now, through her instrumentality, I trust I am born to God." "Be kind to thy FATHER-for when thou wert young, Who loved thee more fondly than he? He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue, Be kind to thy father, for now he is old, His locks intermingled with gray, His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold; Thy father is passing away. Be kind to thy MOTHER-for lo! on her brow May traces of sorrow be seen; O well may'st thou comfort and cherish her now; Remember thy mother, for thee she will pray, As long as God giveth her breath; With accents of kindness then cheer her lone way, 8 CHAPTER VII. A TRUE SISTER. THE FRATERNAL TIE-MARY LYON AS A SISTER-HER BROTH- Ir is equally well known that eminent women have usually been true sisters. There appears to be a similar connection between the fraternal tie and future distinction, that exists between the latter and the filial relation. The virtues that are indispensable to a true sister are those which lead to usefulness in the other relations of life. It is almost certain that a sister of this description will make a true friend, wife, or mother. For she has qualities that prepare her for one, or all, of these relations. She has had that regard to personal duty which is of priceless value in every situation. Mary Lyon was the best of sisters. She was ever deeply concerned for the welfare of each member of the family. Their happiness was her happiness. Her sisterly affection was unselfish and whole-hearted. She was willing not only to share good fortune equally with them, but even to take the smaller portion herself. We have seen that after her mother's second marriage she became her brother's house-keeper. Within a year the brother was married, and thereafter his abode was Mary's home until 1819, when he removed to Ohio. His removal was the cause of much grief to her affectionate heart. Just before the family started for their Western home, she slipped the following lines into the hand of her brother's wife: "Not one sigh shall tell my story, Not one tear my cheek shall stain; Grief that stoops not to complain." She had become tenderly attached to his little children, and their departure was like sundering her very heart-strings. "Her friends that remained with her well remember her grief as they were borne away. For months afterwards, whenever that brother was spoken of in her presence, her tears would flow, and her silent and subdued feelings did not hinder her friends from seeing how deeply and tenderly she loved him. Little did she imagine that, in process of time, those daughters were to return, to receive instruction from her lips in a seminary founded by her instrumentality; and, being better fitted to perform the duties of life, were to go forth, some to labor as teachers in our own country, and one to teach the benighted heathen under the shadow of a Chinese pagoda.” The following extract from a letter addressed to one of her sisters gives us a key to her faithful heart: "Although I am pleasantly situated, and have no more cares and little daily trials than I should expect, yet it would be pleasant to spend an hour with one of my dear sisters, to whom I could tell all my heart. The fact that no two of our family, unless it be our brother and our sister Rosina, are spending this summer together, awakens emotions peculiar and rather gloomy. Ever since I heard of brother Moore's death, but more particularly for two days past, I have thought much of my brother and sisters. I have seemed to review twenty years with relation to ourselves. Change and revolution, uncertainty and disappointment, decay and death, are stamped on every object. I see this family, that about twenty years ago were prattling children, united and happy in the arms of their fond parents, now scattered over four different States of the Union, and some of them seven hundred miles apart. "Let me hear not only from yourself, but also from my other friends. Separation does not lessen the interest I take in their welfare. When I think of the older members of the family, I also involuntarily think of their children. I have the same kind of interest in their prosperity that I have ever had for that of their parents. Sometimes I feel that it would be a privilege to live, to render myself useful to the children of my brothers and sisters." To another sister she wrote: "O that I could fly over the hills and pay you a visit. Friends know best the strength of their love when they are separated. If possible, I think more of you now than But should I fill a whole sheet in describing my desire to see you, and the delight which would be derived from an interview with you, it would be saying just nothing at all; therefore I shall leave all to be supplied by your imagination." ever. The following touching epistle was addressed to her brother: : "SOUTH HADLEY, Dec. 3, 1840. "But a few years ago, we seemed an unbroken circle. Though separated from each other, we |