u hear me, Mother, crying and calling for
you? How sweet it must be to have a mother!"

* * * * *

One might suppose that a childless woman suddenly presented by Fate with
an exacting husband and a brood of nine would soon be a candidate for
nervous prostration; Sarah Porter Beecher, however, rose to the level of
events, and looked after her household with diligence and a
conscientious heart. Little Henry Ward was four years old and wore a
red-flannel dress, outgrown by one of the girls. He was chubby, with a
full-moon face and yellow curls, which were so much trouble to take care
of that they were soon cut off, after he had set the example of cutting
off two himself. He talked as though his mouth were full of hot mush. If
sent to a neighbor's on an errand, he usually forgot what he was sent
for, or else explained matters in such a way that he brought back the
wrong thing. His mother meant to be kind; her patience was splendid; and
one's heart goes out to her in sympathy when we think of her faithful
efforts to teach the lesser catechism to this baby savage who much
preferred to make mud-pies.

Little Henry Ward had a third mother who did him much gentle benefit,
and that was his sister Harriet, two years his senior. These little
child-mothers who take care of the younger members of the family deserve
special seats in Paradise. Harriet taught little Henry Ward to talk
plainly, to add four and four, and to look solemn when he did not feel
so--and thus escape the strap behind the kitchen-door. His bringing-up
was of the uncaressing, let-alone kind.

Lyman Beecher was a deal better than his religion; for his religion,
like that of most people, was an inheritance, not an evolution. Piety
settled down upon the household like a pall every Saturday at sundown;
and the lessons taught were largely from the Old Testament.

These big, bustling, strenuous households are pretty good life-drill for
the members. The children are taught self-reliance, to do without each
other, to do for others, and the older members educate the younger ones.
It is a great thing to leave children alone. Henry Ward Beecher has
intimated in various places in his books how the whole Beecher brood
loved their father, yet as precaution against misunderstanding they made
the sudden sneak and the quick side-step whenever they saw him coming.

Village life with a fair degree of prosperity, but not too much, is an
education i