disturbed the government of her children by interfering with it, and attempting to make the little ones do as she thought best.  Her interference was borne about as well as it could be by her sister, who now and then gave her a “piece of her mind,” and in plain, straight forward terms.  Mrs. Fleetwood’s usual remark, when Martha talked about what she would do, if she had children, was a good humoured one, and generally something after this fashion—­

“Old maids’ children are the best in the world, I know.  They never cry, are never disobedient, and never act disorderly.”

Martha hardly relished this mode of “stopping her off,” but it was generally effective, though sometimes it produced a slight ebullition.

At last, though the chances in favour of matrimony had become alarmingly few, Martha was wooed, won, and married to a gentleman named Laurie, who removed with her to the West.

“There is some prospect at last,” Mrs. Fleetwood said to her husband, with a smile, on the occasion of Martha’s wedding, “of sister’s being able to bring into practice her theories in regard to family government.  I only hope the mother’s children may be as good as the old maid’s.”

“I doubt if they will,” remarked the husband, smiling in turn.

“We shall see.”

Years passed, and Martha, now Mrs. Laurie, remained in the West.  Her sister frequently heard from her by letter, and every now and then received the announcement of a fine babe born to the proud mother; who as often spoke of her resolution to do her duty towards her children, and especially in the matter of enforcing obedience.  She still talked eloquently of the right modes of domestic government, and the high and holy duties of parents.

“Let me be blamable in what I may,” said she, in one of these letters, “it shall not be a disregard to the best interests of my children.”

“I hope not, indeed,” said Mrs. Fleetwood, after reading the passage to her husband.  “But those who really understand the true character of children, and are sensible of the fact that they inherit from their parents all the evil and disorderly tendencies not fully overcome in themselves, feel too deeply the almost hopeless task they assume, to boast much of what they will do with their children.  A humble, reserved, even trembling consciousness of the difficulties in the way of the parent, is the most promising state in which a parent can assume his or her responsibilities.  To look for perfect order and obedience is to look for what never comes.  Our duty is to sow good seed in the minds of our children, and to see that the ground be kept as free from evil weeds as possible.  The time of fruit is not until reason is developed; and we err in expecting fruit at an early period.  There will come the tender blade, green and pleasant to the eye, and the firm, upright stalk, with its leaves and its branches; and flowers, too, after a while, beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers; but the fruit of all our labour, of all our careful culture, appears not until reason takes the place of mere obedience, and the child becomes the man.  This view saves me from many discouragements; and leads me, in calm and patient hope, to persevere, even though through months, and, I might almost say, years, little prospect of ultimate fruit becomes apparent.  But, good seed must bring forth good fruit.”