Her love illumes the darkest hour,
Smooths all the rugged way,
Makes lighter every burden,
Cheers through each weary day.

More precious than the rarest gem
In all the world could be;
More sweet than honor, fame, and praise,
Is mother's love to me.




THE RIGHT DECISION.


It was the beginning of vacation when Mr. Davis, a friend of my
father, came to see us, and asked to let me go home with him. I was
much pleased with the thought of going out of town. The journey was
delightful, and when we reached Mr. Davis' house everything looked as
if I were going to have a fine time. Fred Davis, a boy about my own
age, took me cordially by the hand, and all the family soon seemed
like old friends. "This is going to be a vacation worth having," I
said to myself several times during the evening, as we all played
games, told riddles, and laughed and chatted merrily as could be.

At last Mrs. Davis said it was almost bedtime. Then I expected family
prayers, but we were very soon directed to our chambers. How strange
it seemed to me, for I had never before been in a household without