ear be deafened to the little wail that echoes
pitiful within the chambers of her heart! When we remember the great
passion of motherhood, the intensity of the drama, the prolongation into
years of its deep interplots, we cannot marvel longer at the perennial,
lasting character of the mother's love. Given, the marvel, there is no
further marvel. Given life, the scientists say, there is no other
problem on this narrow world. And thus the marvel and the mystery never
grow less.

MAN ENTERS THE WORLD,

of all animals the most pitiable and weakly. Left to himself he would
immediately perish. Extinguish the mother's love and he would at once
perish. His growth is by far the slowest of that of all animals,
therefore the wisdom of God in so lengthening the tenure of the mother's
solicitude. The mighty man who wields the iron halberd which no two
people can lift was still a helpless infant, unable to put his own
chubby fist into his own mouth! The autocrat who sweeps whole
communities into Siberia with a stroke of his pen was ill when his
mother was alarmed, was in agony when she was indiscreet with her food!
She cannot forget this. It is but yesterday she dried his flesh to keep
it sound. It is but yesterday she let him bite his aching gum upon her
finger, wishing the ache might go from him to her--hoping that if he
gave her pain he would have less. One can well pardon the vanity that
would lead a son to insist that his mother should accompany him to

THE EXECUTIVE MANSION OF THE GREAT REPUBLIC,

that she might behold him enter upon the Chief Magistracy of fifty
millions of freemen, gained by the first choice of a majority of those
freemen, yea, by the unanimous first and second choice, for none so
ready to fight for his right to rule as he who yesterday voted for an
honored opponent--the very summit of true political ambition--the apex
of the mother's boldest hope! "The mother's love is indeed the golden
link that binds youth to old age," says Bovee; "and he is still but a
child, however time may have furrowed his cheek, or silvered his brow,
who can yet recall, with a softened heart, the fond devotion, or the
gentle chidings, of

THE BEST FRIEND

that God ever gives us!" I knew an aged woman, who interested me very
greatly in tales of "her boy"--that good son who had so often proven his
gratitude for her long love. One day, chancing to consider her great
number of years, I inquired how old "her boy" was, and fou