Furthermore, keep them babies so long as you can without making yourself and them ridiculous, and interfering with the graver duty of preparing them for their place in the working-world. The dew-drop must exhale by and by, but it lingers longest in the bosom of the flower that folds its petals most jealously and fondly above it. The virgin purity of the snow must change, with dust and melting, into the hue of the earth beneath; but it is a woeful sight. We would fain delay the process by every means in our power. Above all, let us make it our prayer that we may never forget that we were once children, and how we felt, reasoned, and acted then. Who of us does not treasure in her casket of remembrance certain golden days or hours that we would not lose for the wealth of a kingdom? Your daughter leans against your knee, as my little five-year-old does on mine, with “Mamma, please tell me a story about when you were a little girl; how glad you were when your Papa brought you home a new doll, with blue eyes and curling hair, in place of the one the dogs tore up; or about the grand holidays you used to have in the woods; or how your Papa once took you to slide on the ice-pond--and O, Mamma! do tell me about all the Christmases you ever had!” All the Christmases I ever had! I wish I could remember them, every one--for those I do recall are strung upon my memory like pearls upon a silken cord, and each is a joy forever. There is but one against which I have set a black cross--the dreadful morning when the first thing I drew from my stocking was a switch! I seem to see the lithe, keen, wicked-looking rod now, and hear the shout of laughter that greeted its appearance--mirth, that quickly subsided before my torrent of grief and shame. I was soon told that the obnoxious article was placed there “in fun,” by a visitor in the family. I should like to see the visitor who should dare to practice such a piece of “fun” upon one of _my_ children!