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"I want some tea."

"You'll not get any."

"I'll go and ask Jane to give me some."

"Take care, sir; or you'll be sent off without a mouthfal."

With as bad a grace as possible, John sat down upon the corner of a chair, and commenced eating. The moment his mother left the room with Mary in her arms, his hand was in the sugar-bowl; a portion of the contents of which were freely laid upon his bread and butter. "If I don't get tea, I'll have sugar,” he said.

He was in the act of helping himself from the sugarbowl for the third time, when his mother came in. The consequence was, that he got his ears soundly boxed, and was sent off to bed.

Florence continued to nurse the babe, or rock it in the cradle, for an hour, when she became too sleepy to hold up her head. Kissing her mother affectionately, the child said good night, and went off, alone, to her room, where she undressed herself and retired for the night. But no prayer was said her mother had never taught her this best of infantile lessons.

Mrs Archer sat up sewing until nearly eleven o'clock, and then sought her pillow. As usual, her husband had not yet returned. It was past midnight when he came home.

Too many of the evenings that were passed in the family of Mr and Mrs Archer were similar to the one we have described,

In a little while John and Florence came in. Florence was a sweet-faced child, just nine years old. Her disposition was mild, and she was very thoughtful-rendering her mother much service in her attentions to the younger children. Her first act was to go up to her mother and kiss her, and then kiss the babe that lay upon her lap.

"Have you had a pleasant time, dear?" asked Mrs Archer.

"O yes, mother. I have had a nice time.-Grandma baked us a whole basket full of cakes, which I have brought home; and she let me help her. I cut them Where is Willy and Mary?" she added, looking around. "They must have some cakes. Oh, dear! Here's sis' fast asleep on the floor. Shall I wake her up, mother, and give her a cake ?”

all out.

"No, dear, I wouldn't wake her now. The cakes will taste just as good to her in the morning." "Where is Willy ?”

"He's in bed. Jane took him up stairs."

"Shall I hold the baby, while you undress Mary ?" asked Florence, as she took off her bonnet and shawl. "Yes, you may."

"Dear little baby!" murmured Florence, as she took the child from her mother's arms, and sat down with it upon a low stool.

"I want some supper," said John, pouting out his lips, and looking as ugly and ill-natured as possible.

"There's some bread and butter for you. Sit down and eat that, and then take yourself off to bed," replied his mother.

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CHAPTER VIII.-MORE CONTRASTS.

FIVE more years of patience, forbearance, and anxious solicitude passed, and Mrs Hartley began to sce many good results of her labour, especially when she contrasted the habits and manners of her own children with the habits and manners of the children of some of her friends.

One of these friends, a Mrs Fielding, had four children of naturally very good dispositions. They were affectionate to one another, and seemed to have more than usual love of home about them. The mother's fireside circle might have been an earthly paradise, if she had been at all disposed to consult her children's good, instead of her own pleasure. But this she was not disposed to do. She was vain, and fond of company. When she had provided a good nurse for her children, she thought that her duty was done-it never occurred to her that her children needed a companion, such as only she could be to them, as much as they needed a nurse to provide for their bodily comfort.

This woman came in to see Mrs Hartley one day, and found her sitting at the piano.

"What does all this mean?" asked Mrs Fielding, in a gay tone. "You playing the piano! I thought you had enough else to do."

"I'm only practising for the children."

"What good will your practising do the children, I wonder?"

"A good deal, I hope. We have frequently a little

family party among ourselves, when the children dance, and I play for them."

"And you practise for this purpose during the day. I wonder how you find time. You, who are such a

slave to your family!"

"If everything is done according to a regular system, we can easily find time for almost anything."

"I don't know. You beat me out. I do scarcely anything in my family, it seems-and yet I am always hurried to death when I do that little, so that it isn't more than half done. As to practising on the piano, that is out of the question."

Mrs Hartley faintly sighed.

"You have four sweet children," she said, after a pause;" I never saw better dispositions, naturally, in You might do anything with them you

my life. pleased."

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"What you say, a mother's partiality aside, is true," replied Mrs Fielding, with a brightening face. They are all good children. I only wish I was a better mother —that I was like you, Mrs Hartley. I fear I am too

fond of society; but I can't help it."

"Oh, don't say that, Mrs Fielding. Love for our children should be strong enough to make us correct anything in ourselves that stands in the way of their good. A mother's duties ought to take precedence of everything else."

"I don't think a mother ought to be a slave to her children."

How can you use

IIer devo

"Willing servitude is not slavery. such a word in connection with a mother?

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