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WHAT a power in the very word Mother! No power can break the spell which a good mother throws around her child. He may wander away from home and for a while may even seem to have forgotten a mother’s prayer and a mother’s kisses, but somewhere and somehow that lovely face and fond caress will flash upon the mind. It is true to nature, although it be expressed in a figurative form, that a mother is both the morning and the evening star of life. Heaven has imprinted in the mother’s face something beyond this world, something which claims kindred with the skies—the angelic smile, the tender look, the waking, watchful eye which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe.

Can a mother’s love be supplanted? No! A thousand times no! There is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother for her child that transcends all other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, daunted by danger, weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every pleasure to his enjoyment; she will glory in his fame and exult in his prosperity; if misfortune overtake him, he will be the dearer to her because of his misfortune; if disgrace settle upon his name, she will still love and cherish him in spite of his disgrace; and if all the world beside cast him off, she will be all the world to him.

The mother can take man’s whole nature under her control. She becomes what she has been called—“The Divinity of Infancy.” Her smile is its sunshine, her word its mildest law, until sin and the world have steeled the heart. She can shed around her the most genial of all influences, and from the time when she first laps her little one in Elysium by clasping him to her bosom, “its first paradise,” to the moment when that child is independent of her aid, or perhaps like Washington, directs the destiny of millions, her smile, her word, her wish is an inspiring force.

Dear reader, I hope you will always love, respect, and obey your mother.