suspected and marked for punishment, when they should again appear abroad. CHAPTER XI. “Vital spark of heavenly flame! Quit, O quit this mortal frame! Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, O the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond nature! cease thy strife, And let me languish into life.” Perhaps the nearest and dearest, as well as the most interesting tie of consanguity, is that existing between mother and son. Who has not witnessed the unfailing and unconquerable strength of a mother's love for the son of her heart and her vows, cleaving to its object through prosperity and through adversity, through honor and through shame, with a constancy which never wavers? And what son, especially after the thoughtlessness of youth has given place to the reflection of maturer years, and experience has taught him the insincerity and selfishness of the world--what son has not turned back and lingered, with the most grateful emotions, over the pleasing memories of a mother's care; pondered with the most heart-felt admiration over the deep, pure, and undying nature of a mother's love; realized more and more the priceless value of a sentiment so fraught with moral beauty, so exalted, so proof against all those considerations of self, those temptations of interest, before which all other ties are seen to give way, and, while thus realizing, found his yearning bosom oftener and oftener prompting him to exclaim with the poet,-- “Where'er I roam, whatever realms I see, My heart, untravelled, fondly turns to thee.”