If feebleness and timidity claim from him support and protection, what is due in return but love and obedience? The Germans have very orthodox notions on this subject. The famous Jean Paul Richter thus writes to his friend some time after his marriage:— "How happy I am, you should see rather than read. My Caroline, who wins the love of all-of the men by her beauty, of the women by her captivating, cordial kindness— subdues me by happiness to contentment. We have the the whole town for friends. Her almost too great indifference to going out, her sinking into quiet industry, her strong, maidenly love, her unconditional resignation to my will-all this makes our love even younger than at first, when it was merely young. That thou wilt be in love with her is most certain." About the same time this submissive wife writes to her father. Does she complain of her bondage, and assert her rights? She says:— "My husband is perfectly contented with everything as it is, and I am so happy that he is so, and conform so willingly to his wishes, which to one of more pretensions would seem too limited, that I enjoy the sweet satisfaction of being to him what he requires. Let me ever repeat, that we grow happier every day. Nothing without or within disturbs us. Lady reader, the well-spring of the affections is in your own heart; let it not be a sealed fountain; let your love cheer your father, mother, brothers, sisters, friends; and let your gentle, docile submission to lawful authority prove that it has been well for you "to bear the yoke in your youth." CHAPTER XV. A DAUGHTER'S DUTY. "With sympathies that have their birth ANON. How few daughters are fully aware of the sacrifices made for them by their parents! Your father, it may be, year after year has toiled for that wealth which enables him to give you the luxuries and elegancies of life. Day and night has his anxious mind been exercised for your welfare. He has spared you from home and its duties, and given up the pleasure of your society and your assistance, to fit you for life. Or, if you have been so happy as to remain beneath the parental roof, you have probably been so occupied with your intellectual education, as to have had little time to devote to him. Now that you have more leisure, inquire how you shall contribute to your father's comfort and enjoyment. Have you acquired accomplishments? Consider it the highest gratification they can afford you, to exercise them for his amusement. Let the voice which he has been the means of cultivating, yield its sweetest notes for his pleasure; let his praise be more welcome to your ear than the applause of thousands. Is he fond of reading? Select your favourite passages, and read them to him when he has leisure to listen. Madame de Staël's strong attachment to her father, M. Necker, was one of the most striking and pleasing traits in her character. In her "Ten Years' Exile," she thus mentions him: "His mind had so much vivacity and penetration, that one was excited to think by the pleasure of talking to him; I made observations to report to him, I listened to repeat to him. Ever since I have lost him, I see and feel only half what I did, when I had the object in view of giving him pleasure by the picture of my impressions." How elevating, how ennobling, is such a confiding friendship between father and daughter! Where it is possible, cultivate most carefully such confidential intercourse. Seek that advice which a father's superior knowledge of the world renders invaluable to the timid novice, ever needing a guiding hand. Yield to your father that ready obedience which the sacred relationship demands. Increasing years and knowledge on your part, will not free you from this obligation. One of the wisest and best men of recent times, the late President Dwight, remarked, that in the course of a long experience he had observed, "there were two sins which were almost invariably punished in this life-disobedience to parents, and falsity in love." The melancholy lives of many offending daughters bear witness to the truth of this remark. How can it be expected that they who practise habitual dereliction of duty in one relation, would do honour to any other? The respect due to a father is often violated by those who have received a better mental education than their parents. And have you been thus elevated in mind for no better purpose than to despise him who has toiled for you, and sacrificed his own pleasure to give you this very elevation? If so, your intellect has been cultivated at the expense of your heart-an odious defect in a woman. With what agony of grief might your father exclaim, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child!" À delicate sensibility will lead to the greatest caution where this mental disparity exists, and the most assiduous efforts to repay, by respectful attention and kindness, the immense obligation thus incurred. The noble sentiment of the Theban general, Epaminondas, has been universally admired. After his famous victory at Leuctra, while the thrilling applause of Greece was sounding in his ears, he exclaimed, "My joy arises from my sense of that which the news of my victory will give my father and my mother." However high the elevation to which you, in the providence of God, may be raised above your parents, they, by an immutable law of the same providence, must remain in some respects your superiors. Can you not find some way of making yourself useful to your father? In a large manufactory, not many leagues from Paris, the daughters of the wealthy owner are the only clerks for the large establishment. They keep the books, and, with very little assistance from their father, write all the letters of a most extensive foreign correspondence. In the evening they have leisure, and elegant leisure; but until three o'clock in the afternoon they are entirely devoted to their employment. In this country such a thing would generally be regarded with disfavour, as though such an honourable occupation of time and talents would be a degradation. The delicate daughters of England shrink from the idea of industrious occupation, as if it were disgrace. Better would it be for them if they were prepared for the vicissitudes which they may encounter, by some knowledge of business, and habits of industry. True, custom does not sanction their sitting at the high desks of the counting-room, nor should we even desire such to be regarded as woman's fitting sphere; yet some knowledge such as is there employed, is calculated to prove invaluable to every wife and mother, and indeed to every woman. They may receive from their fathers that insight into the mysteries of book-keeping, which may qualify them to keep family accounts, or manage their affairs if left alone in life. All knowledge is useful, and the most unlikely kind may prove available for its possessor when least expected. If your father is a professional man, my young friend, perhaps you hold the " pen of a ready writer," and can lighten his labours. You, who have scarcely known weariness except by name, cannot imagine the wearing, distracting nature of his employment. Study to be useful to him, so far as your ability will permit; when his brow is contracted with thought, and the multiplicity of his cares and duties almost drive him mad, aid him, if he will permit you to do so, and soothe him by your kind attentions. Has a change come over his prosperous days? Has the F wealth that patient industry or daring enterprise had gained, or that had been inherited from honoured ancestors, passed away, like the dew of the morning? What will you do to comfort him, during the heat and burden of this day of trials? It may have gratified his pride in the day of his prosperity to see you making a splendid appearance. Lessen the pain that he will feel in denying himself this gratification, by indifference on your own part. Put far away false shame, and a mistaken desire to "keep up appearances." Demonstrate to him that your heart was not fixed on splendid apparel; at the same time, show a scrupulous attention to neatness and good taste. Whatever changes may come, maintain that dignified self-respect which will secure you from contempt. You will not be lessened in the estimation of one single wise or noble-minded being, by accommodating yourself to an altered worldly condition. And here I am tempted to digress, to tell a short story: The tall elms, that ornament the parks and gardens, which form the lungs of the great metropolis, had burst their wintry buds, and the light and graceful branches gently waved in the breath of early spring. The grass, starting fresh from its long rest beneath its snowy covering, now wore its softest verdure. The far-reaching vista presented in the distance a perfect Gothic arch, formed by the limbs of the lofty elms which intersect each other, through the whole length of a beautiful avenue. Two strangers, arm in arm, were slowly sauntering along, apparently deeply engaged in conversation; stopping occasionally, however, to admire a scene so new and delightful. The taller of these strangers was a splendid girl of eighteen or twenty, with large, dark eyes, of dazzling brilliancy, and a person and gait that might have belonged to the "widow Dido." Her dress and manner proclaimed her an ultrafashionable. Her companion was a pale and exceedingly delicate girl, of nearly the same age. If the comparison of a rose and a lily had not been worn out a thousand years ago, it would |