Scarcely, however, is supper ended, before it occurs to him that there is a meeting of such a committee, or such an insurance company, to which he belongs, and the hour is at hand, and he must go.  And he hies away, and in some business on hand he becomes absorbed till the hours of nine, ten, or eleven, possibly twelve o’clock.  He returns again to his home, wearied with the toils of the day,—­his wife possibly, but certainly his children, have retired,—­and he lays his aching head upon his pillow to catch some few hours of rest, and with the morning light to go through essentially the same busy routine, the same absorbing care, the same wearing, weary process.

This is an outline of the life which thousands of fathers are leading in this country at this present time.  We do not pretend that it is true of all,—­but is it not substantially true, as we have said, of thousands?  And not only of thousands in our crowded marts of commerce, but in our principal towns—­nay, even in our rural districts.  It is an age of impulse.  Every thing is proceeding with railroad speed.  Every branch of business is urged forward with all practical earnestness.  Every sail is set—­main-sail, top-sails, star-gazers, heaven-disturbers—­all expanded to catch the breeze, and urge the vessel to her destined port.

This thirst for gain! this panting after fortune! this competition in the race for worldly wealth, or honor, where is it leading the present generation—­where?

To men who have families—­to fathers, who see around them children just emerging from childhood into youth, or verging toward manhood,—­this is and should be a subject of the deepest interest.

Fathers! am I wrong when I say you are neglecting your offspring?  Neglecting them? do I hear you respond with surprise;—­“Am I not daily, hourly stretching every nerve and tasking every power to provide for them, to insure them the means of an honorable appearance in that rank of society in which they were born, and in which they must move?  In these days of competition, who sees not that any relaxation involves and necessarily secures bankruptcy and ruin?”

I hear you, and you urge strongly, powerfully your cause.  You must, indeed, provide for your household.  You must be diligent in business.  You may—­you ought in some good measure, to keep up with the spirit, the progress of the age.  But has it occurred to you that there is danger in doing as you do; that you will neglect some other interests of your children as important, to say the least, as those you have named?  Are not your children immortal?  Have they not souls of priceless value?  Have they not tendencies to evil from the early dawn of their being?  And must not these souls be instructed—­watched over?  Do they not need counsel—­warning—­restraint?  “O yes!” I hear you say, “they must be instructed—­restrained—­guided—­all that, but this is the appropriate business and duty of their mother.  I leave all these to her.  I have no leisure for such cares myself; my business compels me to leave in charge all these matters to her.”