The two ladies quietly retired from the drawing rooms.  As soon as they were more alone, the last speaker resumed.

“By their fruits ye shall know them.  Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles?  Let me relate what I saw and heard in the families of two ladies during this protracted meeting.  One of these ladies was Mrs. Eldridge.  I was passing in her neighborhood about four o’clock, and as I owed her a call, thought the opportunity a good one for returning it.  On entering, my ears caught the blended music of a piano, and children’s happy voices.  From the front parlor, through the partly opened door, a sight, beautiful to my eyes, was revealed.  Mrs. Eldridge was seated at the instrument, her sweet babe asleep on one arm, while, with a single hand, she was touching the notes of a familiar air, to which four children were dancing.  A more innocent, loving, happy group I have never seen.  For nearly ten minutes I gazed upon them unobserved, so interested that I forgot the questionable propriety of my conduct, and during that time, not an unkind word was uttered by one of the children, nor did anything occur to mar the harmony of the scene.  It was a sight on which angels could have looked, nay, did look with pleasure; for, whenever hearts are tuned to good affections, angels are present.  The music was suspended, and the dancing ceased, as I presented myself.  The mother greeted me with a happy smile, and each of the children spoke to her visitor with an air at once polite and respectful.

“‘I’ve turned nurse for the afternoon, you see,’ said Mrs. Eldridge, cheerfully.  ’It’s Alice’s day to go out, and I never like to trust our little ones with the chambermaid, who is n’t over fond of children.  We generally have a good time on these occasions, for I give myself up to them entirely.  They’ve read, and played, and told stories, until tired, and now I’ve just brightened them up, body and mind, with a dance.’

“And bright and happy they all looked.

“’Now run up into the nursery for a little while, and build block houses,’ said she, ’while I have a little pleasant talk with my friend.  That’s good children.  And I want you to be very quiet, for dear little Eddy is fast asleep, and I’m going to lay him in his crib.’

“Away went the children, and I heard no more of them for the half hour during which I staid.  With the child in her arms, Mrs. Eldridge went up to her chamber, and I went with her.  As she was laying him in the crib, I took from the mantle a small porcelain figure of a kneeling child, and was examining it, when she turned to me.  ’Very beautiful,’ said I.  ‘It is,’ she replied.—­’We call it our Eddy, saying his prayers.  There is a history attached to it.  Very early I teach my little ones to say an evening prayer.  First impressions are never wholly effaced; I therefore seek to implant, in the very dawning of thought, an idea of God, and our dependence on him for life and