A MOTHER

There is something in sickness that breaks down the pride of manhood – that softens the heart and brings it back to the feelings of infancy. Who that has suffered, even in advanced life, in sickness and despondency – who that has pined in a weary bed, in the neglect and loneliness of a foreign land, but has thought of the mother that looked on his childhood, that smoothed down his pillow and administered to his helplessness? O, there is an endearing tenderness in the love of a mother to her son that transcendeth all other affections of the heart. It is neither to be chilled by selfishness, nor daunted by danger, nor weakened by worthlessness, nor stifled by ingratitude. She will sacrifice every comfort to his convenience; she will surrender every pleasure to his frame and exult in his prosperity; and if adversity overtake him, he will be dear to her by his misfortune; and if disgrace settle upon his name, she will love and cherish him; and if all the world cast him off, she will be all the world to him.