mother sleeps. He scarcely waits for the breath  of spring to unbind the soil, ere he marks out his furrow. If he neglected to prepare the ground, he might as well sow his seed by the way-side, or upon the rock. If he deferred the vernal toil, till the suns of summer were high, what right would he have to expect the autumn-harvest, or the winter-store? The florist mingles his compost, he proportions warmth and moisture, he is patient and watchful, observant of the atmosphere and of the seasons, else he knows that his richest bulbs would be cast away. Should the teacher of the infant heart, be less diligent than the corn-planter, or the culturer of a tulip?
The industry displayed in the various trades and occupations, should be a stimulant to the mother, who modifies a material more costly than all others, more liable to destruction by brief neglect. The hammer of the early workman, admonishes her not to wait "till the burden and heat of the day." Is the manufacturer of delicate fabricks inattentive to the nature of the fleece which be purchases, or to the lineage of the flock that produced it? Are not the most refined processes of the loom affected by the character of the leaf on which the silk-worm fed, or the fibre of the flax that is broken like a malefactor upon the wheel? The artizan who is ambitious to spread the most snowy and perfect