MOTHER.

The silvery hairs are weaving
A crown above her brow,
But surely mother never seemed
One-half so sweet as now!

The love-light beams from out her eyes
As clear, as sweet and true,
As when, with youthful beauty crowned,
Life bloomed for her all new.

No thought of self doth ever cast
A cloudlet o'er the light
That shines afar from out her soul,
So steadfast, pure, and bright.

Her love illumes the darkest hour,
Smooths all the rugged way,
Makes lighter every burden,
Cheers through each weary day.

More precious than the rarest gem
In all the world could be;
More sweet than honor, fame, and praise,
Is mother's love to me.

THE RIGHT DECISION.

It was the beginning of vacation when Mr. Davis, a friend of my
father, came to see us, and asked to let me go home with him. I was
much pleased with the thought of going out of town. The journey was
delightful, and when we reached Mr. Davis' house everything looked as
if I were going to have a fine time. Fred Davis, a boy about my own
age, took me cordially by the hand, and all the family soon seemed
like old friends. "This is going to be a vacation worth having," I
said to myself several times during the evening, as we all played
games, told riddles, and laughed and chatted merrily as could be.

At last Mrs. Davis said it was almost bedtime. Then I expected family
prayers, but we were very soon directed to our chambers. How strange
it seemed to me, for I had never before been in a household without
the family altar. "Come," said Fred, "mother says you and I are going
to be bedfellows," and I followed him up two pair of stairs to a nice
little chamber which he called his room; and he opened a drawer and
showed me a box, and boat, and knives, and powder-horn, and all his
treasures, and told me a world of new things about what the boys did
there. He undressed first and jumped into bed. I was much longer about
it, for a new set of thoughts began to rise in my mind.

When my mother put my portmanteau into my hand, just before the coach
started, she said tenderly, in a low tone, "Remember, Robert, that you
are a Christian boy." I knew very well what that meant, and I had now
just come to a point of time when her words were to be minded. At home
I was taught the duties of a Christian child; abroad I must not
neglect them, and one of these was even