tion should be from a love that never wearies-never grows cold."

"I don't know how that may be; mine wearies often enough."

"I feel discouraged sometimes," replied Mrs Hartley. "But my love never abates. It grows stronger with every new difficulty that is presented."

"You are one in a thousand, then; that is all I can say. I know a good many mothers, and I know that they all complain bitterly about the trouble they have with their children."

แ

"They would have less trouble, if they loved them more." "How can you make that appear ?"

"Love ever strives to benefit its object. A true love for children prompts the mother to seek with the most self-sacrificing assiduity for the means of doing her offspring good."

"Oh dear! I'm sadly afraid I am not a true mother then. It's no use to disguise it-I cannot give up every comfort for my children; and I don't think we are required to do it."

"True love, Mrs Fielding, sacrifices nothing when it is in pursuit of its object; for it desires nothing so ardently as the attainment of that object. I am not aware that I give up every comfort. I sometimes, it is true, deny myself a gratification, because, in seeking it, I must neglect my children, or interfere with their pleasures; but I have never done this that I have not been more than repaid for all I thought I had lost."

"Well, that is a comfort. I only wish I could say as much."

"You would soon be able to say so, if you were to make sacrifices for your children from love to them." "I think I do love them."

"I am sure of that, Mrs Fielding. But, to speak plainly, as one friend may venture to speak to another, perhaps you love yourself more.

"Perhaps I do. But how is that to be determined?" "Very easily. We love those most who occupy most of our thoughts, and for whose comfort and happiness we are most careful, whether it be ourselves or our children."

Mrs Fielding did not reply. Mentally she applied the rule, and was forced to acknowledge that she loved herself more than she did her children.

The oldest boy of Mrs Fielding was about the same age as Clarence. Having completed all their preparatorý studies, the two boys were sent the same year to college. At the age of sixteen, they left their homes for the first time, to be absent, except at short intervals, for three years. James Fielding left home with reluctance. "I don't want to go, mother," he said the day before he was to start.

Why not, James ?" she asked.

"I would rather go to school here. I can learn just as much."

"Yes, but think of the honour, my son, of passing through college. It isn't every boy that has this privilege. It will make a man of you. I hope you will do credit to yourself and your parents. You must strive for the first honours. Your father took them before you." Very different was the parting counsel of Mrs Hartley to her son. The question whether it would be best in

the end to send their son to college, was long and anxiously debated between the father and mother. Many reasons, for and against, were presented, and these were scanned minutely. The strongest objection felt by them was the fact that, from the congregating together of a large number of young men at college, among whom would be many with loose principles and bad habits, there would be danger of moral contamination. For a time they inclined to the belief that it would be better not to send their son from home; but their anxiety to secure for him the very best education the country afforded, at last determined them.

Long and earnestly did Mrs Hartley commune with her boy on the evening before his departure.

"Never forget, my son," she said, "the end for which you should strive after knowledge. It is, that you may be better able, by your efforts as a man, to benefit society. A learned man can always perform higher uses than an ignorant man. And remember, that one so young and so little acquainted with the world as yourself, will be subjected to many severe temptations. But resist evil with a determined spirit. Beware of the first deviation from right. Suffer not the smallest stain to come upon your garments. Let your mother receive you back as pure as when you went forth, my son.

"You will discover, soon after you enter college, a spirit of insubordination-a disposition in many of the students to violate the laws of the institution; but do not join with them. It is just as wrong for a student to violate the laws of a college, as it is for a citizen to violate the laws of his country. They are wholesome regulations,

made for the good of the whole; and he who weakens their force does a wrong to the whole. Guard yourself here, my son, for here you will be tempted. But stand firm. If you break, wilfully, a college law, your honour is stained, and no subsequent obedience can efface it. Guard your honour, my dear boy! It is a precious and holy thing.

"I will write to you often, and you must write often to me. Talk to me, in your letters, as freely as you would talk if we were face to face. Consider me your best friend; and he who would weaken my influence over you, as your worst enemy. You cannot tell, my son, how anxious I feel about you. I know, far better than you can know, how intimately danger will surround you. But,

if

you will make God's holy law, as written in his Ten Commandments, the guide of your life, you will be safe. Christian, in his journey to the land of Canaan, had not a path to travel in more beset with evil than will be yours, but you will be safe from all harm, if, like him, you steadily resist and fight against every thing that would turn you from the straight and narrow way of truth and integrity. You go with your mother's blessing upon your head, and your mother's prayers following you."

The earnestness with which his mother spoke, affected the heart of Clarence. He did not reply, but he made a firm resolution to do nothing that would give her a moment's pain. He loved her tenderly; for she had ever been to him the best of mothers, and this love was his prompter.

"I will never pain the heart of so good a mother," he said, as he laid his head upon his pillow that night. How

different might have been his feelings, if he had been brought up under different maternal influences.

CHAPTER IX.-FRUIT.

ABOUT the same time that Clarence Hartley was sent to college, the eldest son of Mr Archer was sent to sea as the last hope of reclaiming him. He had been suffered to run into all kinds of bad company until he was so degraded that his mother lost all control over him. And yet this boy had naturally a more obedient temper than Clarence, and could have been managed far more easily. It is true that the two mothers were placed under different circumstances-nevertheless, even the unhappy external condition of Florence Archer was no cxcuse. If she had truly loved her child, she could have brought an influence to bear upon him that would have saved him.

At college, Clarence found himself in a new world. At first, the reckless bearing and free conversation of some of the students surprised and shocked him. Soon, familiarity with such things made them seem less reprehensible. He could not only listen to them, but often join heartily in the laugh awakened by some sally of ribald wit. When alone, however, and the remembrance of home arose in his mind, he felt grieved to think that he could have taken pleasure in any thing that would so have shocked his mother's ears.

He wrote home every week, and wrote with all the frankness of a mind that had nothing to conceal. Every