The Stepmother—A Story for Children [pp. 202-203]

~202 ~LADIES' RE
She had met that face somewhere-it had looked
out scornfully upon her-she was certain of it.
"My child, what is your mother's name?" she
asked, drawing the boy to her, and smoothing the
tangled hair from his forehead.
"Jane Merton, ma'am."
"Jane Merton! And was your father's name
Robert Merton?" She gasped rather than spoke
the words.
"Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Marshall sank down by the bedside, cov ering her face with her hands, and murmuring,
"It is God that raiseth up one and pulleth down
another." No feeling of triumph, no emotion
of petty revenge stirred the deep soul of the
woman- its prayer was, that in true meekness
of spirit she might take the great blessings God's
hand had reached out to her.
Mrs. Merton never knew whose soft fingers
smoothed her dying pillow, or whose sweet voice
stole in like far-off music on the mad fears and
fancies with which fever was filling her heart and
brain. Where the little village church-yard slopes
down into the green hollows they left to her
quiet sleep the woman whose life-day had been a
morning of brightness and luxury, and its after noon one of distress and suffering.
Howard Merton became as another son to Mr.
and Mrs. Marshall, for Newell was the only
child God ever gave them.
O ye who walk through the "dark valleys,"
take these words to your heart and grow strong:
"The end may be better than the beginning; and
the patient in spirit is better than.the proud in
spirit."
THE PRODUCTIONS THAT ENDURE.
T can not be expected that any productions,
except those of a merit at once dazzling and
durable, will descend to posterity. If not dazzling they will never become known; if not durable, they will become known only to be forgotten. A reputation instantaneously kindled, is apt
to be as instantaneously extinguished. There is
a strong temptation to rest satisfied with present
applause; and the mind skims along over the
minds of the immediate generation; but takes
no time to tower toward those regions where the
illustrious-not of the day, but of all time —become immortal. The consequence is, that less
pains is taken to evoke the celestial fire; the composition passes from the study without the labor
of the file; and the object of the day or the year,
being gained, posterity is too shadowy a tribunal
to inspire either hope or fear.
IPOSIT ORY
THE STEPMOTHER-A STORY FOR CHILDREN.
AM going to have a new mother," said little
Jane Norton to one of her school-mates.
"A stepmother!" cried Susan, "it is horrid; she
will treat you awfully." "She won't," said lit tle Jane, "father won't let her." "She will,"
said Susan, "they always do; she'll make your
father think you are one of the naughtiest girls
in the world."
This was sorry news to poor Jane. When her
father took her on his knee, and told her of a
dear, new mother, she felt very glad; but if what
Susan said was true, she had more reason to cry
than to be glad. Some of the other girls thought
as Susan did, though they did not express them selves so strongly; and when Bridget heard the
news, she said, "Poor child!"
Enough had been said to fill Jane with tears, and
even to make her cry after she went to bed, and
nobody heard her. She wished she could die in
her little bed; and she prayed to the Lord Jesus
to fetch her to his home, where she was sure her
own dear mother was. She always thought more
about it after she went to bed, and many a night
she fell asleep sobbing and praying, for she did
not know that any body but God could help her.
The afternoon her mother was expected she
went to Susan's, and would not come home till
her father sent for her, and then she came into
the room trembling. "I thoughlt my little
daughter would be at the door to give a kiss of
welcome," said her father, taking her by the
hand and leading her to the sofa, where a pleas ant-looking lady was sitting. "This is our little
daughter, and there is your new mamma, Jane."
The new mamnma tenderly kissed, and spoke
kindly to the child; but Jane was very cold, she
never answered nor looked up. The lady then
took a blue silk apron from the bag, a present for
the little girl; but Jane never thanked her; and
so she made their first meeting very stiff and
disagreeable. Her father looked disappointed,
and Jane was thankful when it was time to go
to bed. Then she cried again, but it was not so
clear now what she cried for, there was nothing
to find fault with the new mamma. Perhaps she
felt that she had acted like an od(ld, sulky child,
and that her behavior had grieved her father; for
she ought to have trusted him, and have felt that
if any good lady was willing to take a mother's
care of her, how thankfully should she be her
dutiful child. That is the way children should
feel toward a new mother. If she is willing to undertake a mother's responsibility, how ready ought
the children be to give her their obedient love!
I