he angry sea was
smoothed; still the depths of her soul were broken up and troubled.

"No," said she; "I will not inflict the trial upon you. What _can_ I do,
to quiet it?" she added, impatiently.

"Perhaps my nerves are calmer than yours," replied the old man, still
extending his hands. "A great deal depends upon that. Babes are very
susceptible to mesmeric influences."

The idea astonished Mrs. Royden. She doubted if there was any truth in
it; but, abandoning the babe to his arms, she saw the thing demonstrated
at once. The child seemed to feel itself in a new atmosphere, and what
the mother failed to do, in her nervous state, a stranger accomplished
by the exercise of a tranquil will.

"I am infinitely obliged to you," said she, as he laid the babe in the
cradle, now perfectly still and quiet. "A great deal must depend upon
the nerves, and I acknowledge mine were in a bad condition."

"I cannot tell how much I grieve to see you so," replied Father
Brighthopes, so kindly that she could not take offence.

"It was wrong; it was very wrong," she murmured. "But I could not help
it. Everything goes wrong to-day."

"Is not such always the case, when you have too much work on hand?"

"Yes, I do believe it. Why is it? I'd like to know. The children are
obstinate and fretful when I have most to do. I cannot understand it."

"My dear sister," said the old man, taking her hand, and speaking in a
voice full of tender and earnest emotion, "do pardon me for my freedom,
when I tell you I think everything depends upon yourself."

"Upon _me_?"

"Your example, dear sister, is all-powerful. You have no conception of
the immense influence you exert over those young and impressive minds.
Oh, do not be offended, if I am plain with you!"

Mrs. Royden told him to go on; she needed his counsel; she would not be
offended.

"Every mother," said he, "makes the moral atmosphere of her household.
She is the sky overhead; they are lambs in the pasture. How they shiver
and shrink beneath the shelter of the fences, and look sullenly at the
ground, when the sky is black with storms, and the wind blows cold and
raw and damp from the dismal northeast! But look when the drizzling rain
is over, when the clouds break away, when the wind shifts around into
the southwest, when the bright sun pours floods of soft, warm light upon
the earth; how the grasses then lift up their beaded stalks, and shake
their heads, heavy with tears; how the stream