1414
Pomponius Atticus, who pronounced a funeral oration on the death of his mother, protested that though he had resided with her sixty-seven years, he was never once reconciled to her; "because," said he, "there never happened the least discord between us, and consequently there was no need of reconciliation."
1415
THE MOTHER'S HOPE.
Is there, when the winds are singing
In the happy summer time—
When the raptured air is ringing
With earth's music heavenward springing,
Forest chirp and village chime—
Is there, of the sounds that float
Unsighingly, a single note
Half so sweet, and clear, and wild,
As the laughter of a child?
—Laman Blanchard.
1416
A True Estimate of a Mother.—To a child, there is no velvet so soft as a mother's lap, no rose so lovely as her smile, no path so flowery as that imprinted with her footsteps.