candour--tell you that for your single soul and free spirits, she
would barter all her riches. The opera, where night after night the
wealth of glorious voices is flung upon the air till its every
vibration is melody, and the spirit drinks it in as it would the
incense of rare flowers, is to her not so exquisite a luxury as the
choice songs, warbled in a concert room, to which you may listen but
few times in the year; such pleasure palls in repetition, on the
common mind, for nature's favourites are among the poor, and gold,
with all its magical power, can never attune the ear to music, nor
the taste to an appreciation of that which is truly beautiful in
nature or art. Keep then your integrity, and you never need envy the
wife of your employer. A round of heartless dissipation has sickened
her of humanity; and if it were not for the excitement of outshining
her compeers in the ranks of fashion, she would lay down her useless
life to-morrow.

Mothers, worn out and enfeebled with work, labouring for those who,
however good they may be, are at the best unable to pay you for you
unceasing toil, unable to realize your great sacrifices, do you look
upon your neighbour who has more means and a few petted children,
and wish that your lot was like hers? You pause often over your
task, and think it greater than you can bear.

"Tell mothers," said a lady to us a short time since, "who have
their little ones around them, that they are living their happiest
days; and the time will come when they will realize it. Tell them to
bend in thankfulness over the midnight lamp, to smile at their
ceaseless work and call it pleasure. I can but kneel in fancy by the
distant graves of my children; they are all gone. Could I but have
them beside me now, I would delve like a slave for them; I would