Did you ever see a cat play with its kitten? How full of love and joy she looks; how she will fondle and caress it; how she will suffer it to tease, and tire, and worry her in its wild sports, and yet not harm it in the least! Have you not seen her take it up in her mouth, and carry it gently away, that it should not be injured? and with what trembling caution would she take it up, in fear that she might hurt it! Did you ever see a bird building its nest? Day by day, and hour by hour, they labor at their work, and all so merrily, then they line it with soft feathers, and will even pluck their own down, rather than their young should suffer. A sheep is the meekest, the most timid and gentle of animals--the least sound will startle it, the least noise will make it flee; but, when it has a little lamb by its side, it will turn upon the fiercest dog, and dare the combat with him: it will run between its lamb and danger, and rather die than its young one should be harmed. The bird will battle with the serpent; the timid deer will turn and meet the wolf; the ant will turn on the worm; and the little bee will sheath its sting in any intruder that dares to molest its young. Many beasts are fierce and wild, and prowl about for blood; but the fiercest of beasts--the tiger, the hyæna, the lion, the bear--all love their young: yes, the most cruel natures are not utterly cruel. The snake opens her mouth, and suffers her young to enter into her bosom when they are in danger:--this is maternal love. If, then, the beasts and reptiles of the earth, who are so full of love for their offspring,--if they will care for them, provide for them, live for them, die for them,--how great do you suppose must be the love of a mother for her child? Greater than these, be assured; ay, far greater, for the mother looks forward for the time when the child shall become like a flower in full blossom. A mother’s love is the most powerful thing on earth! All other things are subject to change, all other hearts may grow cold, all other things may be lost or forgotten--but a mother’s love lasts forever! It is akin to that love with which God himself loves his creatures, and never faileth. Love thy mother, then, my little child. When she is gone, there is no eye can brighten upon thee, no heart can melt for thee, like hers; then wilt thou find a void, a vacancy, a loss, that all the wealth or grandeur of the world can never fill up. Thy mother may grow old, but her love decays not; she may grow sear at heart, and gray upon the brow, but her love for thee will be green. Think, then, in the time of her decline, of what she has suffered, felt, and known for thee; think of her devotion, her cares, her anxiety, her hopes, her fears--think, and do not aught that may bring down her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.