And then, too, the power of example,—of frank, disinterested, beneficent action,—do we ponder this as we ought? The generous sailor, in his homely sea-garb, led nearly a score of men that day in the work of mercy, and the lowliest and poorest are never so low and poor as to be without the opportunity and means of influencing others by efficiency in well-doing. MY STEP-MOTHER. I WAS six years of age when she came to fill the terrible void caused by the death of my mother. I can well remember how we children drew back from the stranger who had come to take her place. There were seven of us; each an idolater at the shrine of our dear mother's memory. The oldest, who possessed a quick, bright intellect, and was somewhat willful withal, quite resented the idea of a second mother. Her strong hostility was contagious, for she was at the head of domestic affairs. Then some sympathizing neighbor would place her hand on my head and say, compassionately, "Poor boy! You'll have a hard time trying to make a mother out of a mother-in-law. She'll never feel toward you as if you were her own child." Well, one day I was measured for a new suit of clothes. Other articles of toilet to correspond came ere long. Indeed, there seemed to be a general refurnishing throughout house and household. What it all meant I could not conjecture, and no one told me. Then one afternoon there came a universal scrubbing of the faces and hands of the children, and we were all dressed in our best clothes. There was something unusual about to take place. What could it be? Not a meeting, for no such preparation, that is, in kind and spirit, ever preceded those staid religious gatherings often witnessed in our large, old-fashioned parlor. Still, a hush and a gravity pervaded the busy household, imparting a sort of half-and-half aspect, somewhat festive and somewhat solemn. At length the important secret was condescendingly communicated to me. "Now," said my eldest sister, as she combed my hair back "a la Maffitt," (for like other sentimentally inclined young ladies of the town, she had been captivated with the Irish preacher's eloquence), "do you behave like a little man this evening, for father's going to be married, and we are all to be at the wedding!" "Wedding! What do they do there?" "Why, you little dunce, there'll be a whole parlor full of folks, and the minister will be there and make a speech and pray, and marry father and his bride, and then cake and wine will be passed around to all the company. You'll get a large slice of the best cake you ever ate, and a sip of the wine, and then—why, then you see, you'll have a step-mother to train you up in the way you should go. How will you like that?"