In his old age be still more devoted. Point out to his failing vision the path he would tread. Let him feel that you are striving to solace his declining years, and to requite that love which was shed upon you, the earliest moment of your consciousness. Can you do less for him, now that desire fails and the grasshopper has become a burden and he must soon go to his long home? Of you may it be said,
"Amid the giddy round of prosperous years, The birth of new affections, and the joys That cluster round earth's favorites, there walked Still at her side, the image of her Sire."
But, if all this be due to a father, how shall we describe the claims of a mother? To this parent the daughter owes her very being. These are the arms which never tired of supporting her in infancy. For her the step was light, the voice hushed, the breath almost suppressed. To minister to her wants the social visit was forborne, and home made the one thought, until the cheek grew pale, and the eye dim for sleeplessness. The sickness of her daughter poured new waters into a cup, that seemed already filled with cares. To clothe and adorn her, every personal comfort was cheerfully foregone. That she might enjoy the best mental and moral culture, this mother discharged daily those services, which the domestic walk daily demands.
In sorrow there is no bosom that consoles like a mother's. Into her ear the child pours its every trial. When the world censures, she will soothe. Let injury, degradation, distress come upon us, let us dread the eye of others, or, through guilt, shrink timidly from them, we flee to her for refuge. This affection is bestowed on the daughter with a fulness and a permanence, which she cannot comprehend, and remain still insensible.
In view of her relation, the true daughter will always sympathize with, and aid, this her greatest earthly benefactor. It will be her study, not to throw every burden on her spirit, because she is willing to bear them. No, her point of view will be the opposite of this. "How much," she will ask, "can I do for my mother? Is there nothing in which I can relieve her from her toils? The utmost I can render her is but a meagre compensation for her countless sacrifices for my sake."