ty as well as ignorance are occasioned by the
extravagant waste of money and time....

My affection for you, my dear Henry, is still as actively alive as when,
in your infancy, I removed, patiently, every little stone from a certain
space in my garden, lest, when you first ran alone, you might fall and
hurt your face on the pebbles. But the snares now spread beneath your
steps are far more dangerous. They are strengthened by seductive
appearances, and the ardor of youth would hurry you forward to the
allurement; but that my watchful care, and the confidence you repose in
me, serve to counteract the influence of this twofold power. Your bark
is gliding near a rapid current; but your mother stands on the shore,
and with her eyes fixed on her dear navigator, anxiously exclaims, in
the moment of danger, "Reef your sails; mind your helm." Oh! may you
never forget, or cease to be guided by these warnings, which come from
my inmost heart.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 8: From Mrs. Hale's Female Biography, now in the press of
Harper & Brothers.]

PROCRASTINATION.

BY CHARLES MACKAY.

If fortune with a smiling face
Strew roses on our way,
When shall we stoop to pick them up?
_To-day, my love, to-day._
But should she frown with face of care,
And talk of coming sorrow,
When shall we grieve, if grieve we must?
_To-morrow, love, to-morrow._

If those who've wrong'd us own their fault,
And kindly pity pray,
When shall we listen, and forgive?
_To-day, my love, to-day._
But if stern Justice urge rebuke,
And warmth from Memory borrow,
When shall we chide, if chide we dare?
_To-morrow, love, to-morrow._

If those to whom we owe a debt
Are harmed unless we pay,
When shall we struggle to be just?
_To-day, my love, to-day._
But if our debtor fail our hope,
And plead his ruin thorough,
When shall we weigh his breach of faith?
_To-morrow, love, to-morrow._

If love estranged should once again
Her genial smile display,
When shall we kiss her proffered lips?
_To-day, my love, to-day._
But if she would indulge regret,
Or dwell with bygone sorrow,
When shall we weep, if weep we must?
_To-morrow, love, to-morrow._

For virtuous acts and harmless joys
The minutes will not stay;
We've always time to welcome them,
_To-day, my love, to-day._
But care, resentment, angry words,