cast of flesh, to hold the fight against the enemy.  While they thus serve us, to guard us from extinction, we also stand as their ambassadors in heaven, presently to go on our mission,—­first to finish our own preparations, and then to begin those of our offspring, who will follow in our footsteps.  Says Shakspeare:  “The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven’s lieutenants.”  Our experience teaches us that virtue and honesty are in themselves great rewards.  Whether we be virtuous and honest matters little in our estimation of the value of those qualities.  The thief, quaking before the Judge, cannot but compare his own lot with that of the good man who sits above him.  The one has followed every bent of his inclination, which gradually became more and more capricious, more difficult to satisfy.  The other put on a steadying curb in early life, denied himself nine times where he humored himself once, and

FINALLY HAD A CHARACTER

which made few demands upon him, and whose demands were decent and in order.  Thus “some as corrupt in their morals as vice could make them, have yet been solicitous to have their children soberly, virtuously, and piously brought up.”  We therefore, on every ground, must teach our children religion, dignity, and probity.  “Parents,” says Jeremy Taylor, “must give good example and reverent deportment in the presence of their children.  And all those instances of charity which usually endear each other—­sweetness of conversation, affability, frequent admonition—­all significations of love and tenderness, care and watchfulness, must be expressed toward children; that they may look upon their parents as their friends and patrons, their defence and sanctuary, their treasure and their guide.”

FATHER AND SON.

Says Sir R. Steele:  “It is the most beautiful object the eyes of man can behold to see a man of worth and his son live in an entire, unreserved correspondence.  The mutual kindness and affection between them give an inexpressible satisfaction to all who know them.  It is a sublime pleasure which increases by the participation.  It is as sacred as friendship, as pleasurable as love, and as joyful as religion.  This state of mind does not only dissipate sorrow which would be extreme without it, but enlarges pleasures which would otherwise be contemptible.  The most indifferent thing has its force and beauty when it is spoken by a kind father, and an insignificant trifle has its weight when offered by a dutiful child.  I know not how to express it, but I think I may call it a transplanted self-love.”

THE OCCUPATION.