Maternal Love.

Well, to go back to where ' efore I digressed to explain to you hovv s^b frightful and incurable disease, membranous croup, was ravaging the town and driving all mothers mad with terror, I called Mrs. McWilliams's attention to little Penelope, qnd said, :—' Darling, I wouldn't let that child be chewing that pine stick , if I were you.' . 'Precious, where is the harm in it?' said she, but at the same time preparing to take away the stick—for women cannot receive even the most palpably judicious suggestion without arguing it; that is, married women. ' Love, it is notorious that pine is the least nutritious wood that a child can eat.' My wife's hand paused, in the act of taking the stick, and returned itself to her lap. She bridled perceptibly, and said :— 1 Hubby, you know better than that. You know you do. Doctors all say that turpen tine in pino wood is good for weak back, and the kidneys.' lAh ! 1 was under a misapprehension. I did not know that the the child's kidnpys and spine were affected, and that the family physician had recommended —' ' Who said that the chihTs spine and kid neys were affected ?' ' My love, you intimated it.' • The idea ! I never intimated anything of the kind.' • Why, my dear, it hasn't been two minutes since you said—' ' Bother what I said ! I don'fc care what I did say. There isn't any harm in the child's chewing a bit of pine Btick if she wants to, and you know it, perfectly well. And she SHALL chew it, too ! So there, now !' 1 Say no more, my dear. I now sco the force of your reasoning, and I will go and order two or three cords of the best pine wood to-day. No child of mine shall want while I-' 10, please go along to your office, and let me have some peace. A body can never make the simplest remark but you must take it up and go to arguing, and arguing, and arguing, till you don't know what you are talking about, and you never do.' ' Very well, it shall be a3 you say. But there is a want of logic in your last remark which—' However, she was gone with a flourish before I could finish, and had taken the child with her. That night, at dinner, she con fronted me with a face as white as a sheet. '0, Mortimer, there's another ! Little (leorgie Gordon is taken.' 'Membranous croup?' ' Membranous croup.' 1 Is there any hope for him V 1 None in the wide world. 0, what is to become of us ?" >&By and by our nurse brought in our Pone lope to say good-night, and offer the custom ary prayer at the mother's knee. In the midst of " Now I lay me down to sleep," she gave a slight cough. My wife fell back like one stricken with death. But, the next moment, she was up and running away with the aotiveness which terror inspires. She commanded that the child's crib be removed from the nursory to our bed-room ; and she went along to see the order executed. She took me with her, of course. We got matters arranged with speed. A cot-bed was put up in my wife's dressing-room for the nurse. But now Mrs. Me Williams Baid we were too far away from the other baby, and what if hk were to have the symptoms in the night ?—and bhe blanched again, poor thing. We then restored the crib and the nurse to the nursery, and put up a bed for ourselves in a room adjoining. Presently, however, Mrs. McWilliams said : ' Suppose the baby should catch it from Penelope ?' This thought struck a new panic to her heart, and the tribe of us couid not get the crib out of the nursery again fast enough to satisfy my wife, though she as sisted in her own person, and well-nigh pulled the crib to pieces in her frantic hurry. We moved down stairs, but there was no place to stow the nurse, and Mrs. Me Wil liams Baid the nurse's experience would be an inestimable help. So we returned, bag and baggage, to our own bed-rooms once more, and felt a great gladness, like storm-buffeted birds that have found their nest again. Mrs. Me Williams sped to the nur3ery to see how things were going on there. She was back in a moment with a new dread, She said : ' What can make the baby sleep so?' I Baid : ' Why, my darling, baby always Bleeps like a graven image.' ' 1 know, 1 know ; but there is something peculiar about his sleep now. He seems to — he seems to breathe so regularly. O, this is dreadfui 1' | |'But, my dear, he always breathes regu larly.' '0, I know it, but there's something dreadful about it now. His nurse is too young and inexperienced. Maria shall stay there" with her, and be at hand if anything happens.' ' That is a good idea ; but who will help you V ' You can help me all I want. I wouldn't allow anybody to do anything but myself, aiyhow, at such a time as this.' I said I would feel mean to lie abed and sleep, and leave her to watch and toil over our little patient all the weary night. But she .reconciled me to it. So old Maria de parted and took up her ancient quarters in tie nursery, Penelope coughed twice in her sleep. • Ob, why don't the doctor come ? Morti mer, this room is too warm. Thiß room is certainly too warm. Turn off the register— quick !' I Bhut it off, glancing at the thermometer at the same time, and wondering to myself if 70 wa3 too warm for a Bick child. The coachman arrived from down town, vow, with the news that our physician was ill and confined to his bed. Mrs. Mo Wil liams turned a dead eye npon me, and said in a dead voice : ' There is providence in it. it is foreordained. He never was Bick be fore—never. We have not been living as we ought to live. Mortimer, time and time again I have told you so. Now you

the result. Our child will r get well. Be thankful if you can for yourself. I never can forgive myself.' said, without intent to hart, but with

heedless choice* of words, that I could not 9ee that we had been living such an aban loned life. ' Mortimer ! Do you want to bring the judgement upon baby, too !' Then she began to cry, but suddenly ex claimed : ' The doctor must have sent medicines !'

I said : ' Certainly, they are here. I was only waiting for you to give me a chance.' ' Well, do give them to mo ! Don't you know that every moment is precious now ? But what was the use in sending medicines when he knows that the disease is incurable ?' I said that while there was life there was hope. 1 Hope ! Mortimer, you know no more what you are talking about than the child unborn. If you would As I live, the directions say give one tea-spoonful once an hour ! Once an hour !—as if we had a whole year before us to save the child in ! _ Mortimer, please hurry. Give the poor perishing thing a table-spoonfal, and try to be quick ! 1 What, my dear, a table-spoouful might—'

' Don't drive me frantic 1 There, there, there, my precious, my own ; it's nasty, bitter stuff, but it's good for Nelly —good for mother's precious darling ; and it will make her well. There, there, there, put the little head on mamma's breast and go to sleep,' and pretty soon—'Oh, I know she can't live till morning ! Mortimer, a table spoonful every half-hour will Oh, the child needs belladonna, too ; I know she does—and aconite. Get them, Mortimer. Now do let me have my way. You know nothing about; these things.' We now went to bod, placing tue crib close to my wife's pillow. All this turmoil had worn upon mo, and within two minutes I was something more than half asleep. Mrs Me Williams roused me: 'Darling, is that register turned on ?'

•No.' ' I thought as. much. Ploaso turn it on at once. This room is cold.'

I turned it on, and presently fell asleep again, I was aroused once more. 1 Dearie, would you mind moving the crib to your side of the bed ? It is nearer the register.' I moved it, but had a collision with the ru<^, and woke up the child. I dozed oil' once more, while my wife quieted the suf ferer. But in a little while these words came murmuring remotely through the fog of

my drowsiness : — ' Mortimer, if we only had some goose grease—will you ring ?' I climbed drearily out, and stepped on a cat, which responded with a protest, and would have got a convincing kick for it, if a chair had not got it instead.

' Now, Mortimer, why do you want to turn up the gas and wake up the child again ?' ' Because I want to see how much I am hurt, Caroline.'

' Well, look at the chair, too, —I have no doubt it is ruined. Poor cat, suppose you had '

' Now, I am not going to suppose anything about the cat. It never would have occurred, if Maria had been allowed to remain here and attend to these duties, which are in her line, and are not in mine.'

' Now.. I should think you would be ashamed to make a remark like that. It is a pity if you cannot do the few little thingß that I ask of you at such an awful time as this, when our child ' ' There, there, I will do anything you want. But I can't raise anybody wich thi3 bell. They're all gone to bed. Where is the goose-grease ?' lOn the mantel-piece in the nursery. If you'il step there and speak to Maria ' I fetched the goose-grease, and went to sleep again. Once more I was called. ' Mortimer, 1 so bate to disturb you, but the room is still too cold for me to try to apply this stuff. Would you mind lighting the lire ? It is all ready to touch a match to.' I dragged myself out and lit the lire, and then sat down disconsolate.

1 Mortimer, don't sit there and catch your death of cold. Come to bed.'

As I was stepping in, she sail : ' But wait a moment. Please give the child some more of the medicine.'

Which I did. It was a medicine which made a child more or less lively ; so my wife made use of its waking interval to strip it and grease it all over with the goose-oil. I was soon asleep once more, but once more I had to get up.

' Mortimer, I feel a draft. I feel it distinctly. There is nothing so bad for this disease as a draft. Please move the crib in froat of the lire.

1 did it, and collided with the rug again which I threw into the lire. Mrs Me Wil liams sprang out of bed and rescued it, and we had some words. I had another trifling intervalflof sleep, and then got up, by request, and constructed a ilax-seed poultice. This was placed upon the child's breast, and left there to do its healing work.

A wood lire is no 6 a permanent thing. I got up every twenty minutes and renewed ours, and this gave Mrs Mo Williams an op portunty to shorten the times oE giving the medicines by ten minuces, which was a great satisfaction to her. Now and then, between times, I reorganized the ilax-seed poultices, and applied sinapisms and other blisters where unoccupied places could be found upon the child. Well, towards morning, the wood gave out, and my wife wanted me to go down cellar and get some mots. I said : "My dear, it is a laborious job, and the child must be nearly warm.enough, with her extraclothinq. Now, mightn't we put on another layer of poultices and "

I did not finish, because I was interrupted. I lugged wood up from below for some little time, and then turned in and fell to snoring asjonly a man can whose strength is all gone, and whose soul is worn out.

Last/at broad daylight. I felt a grip on my shoulder that brought me to my senses suddenly. My wife was glaring down on me and gasping. As she could command her tongue she said : ' It is all over ! All ove r ! The child's perspiring ! What Bhall

we do?' 1 Mercy, how you terrify me ! I don't know what we ought to do. May-be if we scraped her and|put her in the draft again—' '0, idiot ! There is not a moment to lobo. Go for the doctor. Go yourself. Tell him he must come, dead or alive.'

I dragged that poor sick man from his bed, and brought him. He looked at the child, and said she was not dying. This was joy unspeakable to me, but it made my wite as mad as if he had offered a personal affront. Then he said the child's cough was only caused by some trifling irritation or other in the throat. At this I thought my wife had a mind to show him the door Now the doctor said he would make the child cough harder and dislodge the trouble. So he gave her something that sent her into a spasm of coughing, and presently up came a little wood splinter or so. •This child has no membranous croup, said he. « She has been chewing a bit af pine shingle or something of the kind, and got some little slivers in her throat. They won't do her any hurt.' «No,' said I. ' I can well believe thai. Indeed, the turpentine that is in them is very good for certain sorts of diseases that are peculiar to children. My wife will tell you so.' But she did not. She turned away in disdain, and left the room ; and since that time there is one episode in our life which we never refer to. Hence the tide of our days flows by in deep and untroubled serenity.— From Mark Twain.

Dying for Work.

A eobust tramp called at a house for something to eat, averring that he had not tasted food this week. ' Why don't you go to work ' asked the lady to whom he preferred his petition. ' Work !' he ejaculated. ' Work ! And what have I been doing ever since the middle of May, but hunting work ? When do I ever refuse work ?'

' Well,' said the woman, ' I guess I can give you some employment. What can you do ?' 4 Anything!' he shouted, in a kind of delirious joy. ' Anything that any man can do. I'm sick for somethings to fly at. Why. only yesterday I worked all day carrying water in an old sieve from Flint liiver and emptying it into the Mississippi, just because I was so tired of having nothing to do, that I had to work at something or I would have gone ravin' crazy. I'll do anything, from cleaning house to building a steamboat. Just give me work, mama, an' you'll never hear me ask for bread again.' The lady was pleaded at the willingness and anxiety of this industrious man to do something, and she led him to the wood pail. 'Here,' she said, 'you can saw and split this wood, and if you arc a good industrious worker, I will find work for you to do nearly all Winter.' ' Well, now,' said the tramp, while a look of disappointment stole over his face, 'that's just my luck. Only three days ago I was pulling a blind cow out of a well for a poor widow woman who had nothin' in the world but that cow to support her, an' I spraint my right wrist till I hain't been able to lift a pound with it sinst. You can juat put your hand on it now and feel it throb, it's so painful and inflamed. I could just cry of disappoint ment, but it's a Bible fact, ma'am, that I couldn't lift that axe above my head ef I died fur it, and I'd jest as lief let you pull my arm out by the roots as to try to pull that saw though a lath. Just set me at something I kin do, though, if you want to see the dust fty.'

' Very well,' said the lady, • then you can take the flour beds, which have been very much neglected, and weed them very carefully for me. You can do chat with your well hand, but I want you to be very particular with them and get them very clean, and not injure any of the plants, for they are all very choice and I am very proud of them.' The look of disappointment that had been chased away from the industrious man's face when he saw a prospect of something else to do came back deeper than ever as the lady described the new job, and when she concluded he had to remain quiet for a moment before he could control his emotion ssilciently to speak. 1 If I ain't the most onfortunit man in Amerky,' he sighed. ' I'm jest dyin; for work, crazy to get sorncthin' to do, and I'm blocked out of work at every turn. I just love to work among flowers and dig in the ground, but I never dassent do it, for I'm jest blue ruin among the poisies. Nobcdy ever cared to teach me anythin' about "flowers, and it's a gospel truth, ma'am, I can't tell a violet from a sun dower, nor a red rose from a dog fennel. Last place 1 tried to get work, woman of i the house set me to work weedin' the | garden, an' I worked about a couple of hours, monstrous glad to get work, now you bet, an' I pulled up every last livin' green thing in that yard. Hope I may die ef 1 didn't. Pulled up all the grass every blade of it. Fact! Pulled up a vine wuth seventy-five dollars, that had roots reachin cl'ar under the cellar, and into the cistern, and I yanked 'em all right up, every fibre of 'em ! Woman was so heart broke when she come out and see the yard just as bare as the floor of a brick yard, that they had to put her to bed. Bible's truth, they did, ma'am; and I had to work for that house three months for nothin' and find my board to pay fur damage I done. Hope to die ef I didn't. Jest gimme suthin' I kin do, I'll show you what work is, but I wouldn't dare to go foolin' around no flowers. You've got a kind heart, ma'am, gimme some work; don't send a desparin' man away hungry for work.'

' Weil,' the lady said, ' you can beat my carpets for me. They have just been taken up, and you can beat them thoroughly, and by the time they are

done I will have something else ready for

The man made a gesture of despair, and sat down on the ground the picture ot abject helplessness and disappointed aspirations. . , 'Look at me now,' he exclaimed. ' What is goin' to become o'me ? Did you ever see a man so down in luck like me ? I tell you, ma'am, you must give me somethin I can do. I wouldn't no more dare for to tech them carpets than nothin in the world. I'd tear'em to pieces. I'm a awful hard hitter, an' the last time I beat any carpets was for a woman out at Creston, and I jest welted them carpets into strings and carpet-rags. I couldn t help it. I can't hold in my strength. I'm too glad to get to work, thai's the trouble with me, ma'am, it's a Bible fact. I'll beat them carpets if you say so, but I won't be responsible for em ; no niakin me work for nothin' for five or six weeks to pay for tearin' 'em into slits, yer know. I'll go at 'em if you'll say the word and take the responsibility, but the^ fact is I'm too hard a worker to go foolin' around carpets, that's just what I am.' The lady excused the energetic worker from going at the carpets, but was puzzled what to set him at. Finally, she asked him what there was he would like to do, and could do with safety to himself and the work. ' Well, now,' he said, ' that s consident in ye. That's real consident, and I'll take a hold and do somethin' that'll give the wuth of yer money, and won't give me no chance to distroy nothin' by workin' too hard at it. If yell jest kindly fetch me out a rockin' chair, I'll set down in the shade and keep the cows from liftin' the latch of the front gate and getting into the yard. An' I'll do it well, and onlj charge you reasonable for it; fur the fact is I'm so dead crazy for work that it isn't big pay I want so much as a steady job.' And when he was rejected and sent forth, jobless and breakfastless, to wander up and down the cold, unfeeling world in search of work, he cast stones at the house, and said, in dejected tones: ' There now, that's just the way. They call us a bad lot, and say we're lazy and thieves, and won't work, when a fellow is jest crazy to work, and nobody won't give him nary job that he kin do. Won't work ! Land alive ! They won'tgive us work ; and when we want to, an' try to, they won't let us work. There ain't a man in Ameriky that 'ud work as hard an' as stiddy as I would if they'd gin me a chance.

Harriet Martineau.

We promised to present to.the readers of Star supplement a sketch of the life and labours of Harriet Martineau, the most remarkable literary woman of the age; who passed her last twenty-five years at her quiet homestead in the roman tic neighborhood of the Lakes, not far from the residence of the poet, Wordsworth and where she died on the 27th day of June, 1576. The notice is abridged from the Times newspaper.]

Harriet Martineatt was born at Norwich, on the ] 2th of June, ISO 2. In her biography of Mrs. Opie she gives us a picture of life in this eastern cathedral city in the early part of the 19th century, when its bishop was the liberal and enlightened Dr. Bathurst; and ahe tells us how the proclivities of the city, alike towards clerical exclusiveness and to intellectual stagnation, were largely corrected by the social gatherings of one or two highly cultivated families, and by a large infusion of French and Flemish manufacturing industry, the result of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. The Martiaeaus were among the families whom that measurs drove to our shores ; and at Norwich they had flourished for trie best part of a century, part of the family devoting itself to silk weaving on a large scale, while other members were in practice as surgeons, enjoying a high reputa tion in the city of their adoption. Not much is known of Harriet's father, who died early, except that he had eight children, of whom she was the youngest. Her education was conducted under the supervision of her uncle, one of the most eminent surgeons in the east of England, and who took every means to give his nephews and nieces the best instruction Norwich could afford. Like most persons of a high order of intellect, how ever young Harriet Martineau, at an early age resolved to walk alone, and not in educational leading-strings, and practially taught herself history and politics while her brothers and sisters were reading their "Goldsmith," and " Mrs Markham." Not that she had any lack of teachers or instructors ; but from a child she resolved to practice the virtue of self-reliance, and to fit herself for life in earnest by such literary exertions as sooner or later, ahe felt, would at least make her independent. Harriet Martincau's first work was "De votional Exercises for the Use of Young Per sons," and was published in 1523. In 1824, and the following year, Miss Martineau came before the public as the authoress of two tales, entitled " Chrismas Day," and a sequel fco it, " The Friend ; " these she fol lowed up with several other stories, all more or less dealing with social subjects, and more especially illustrating by argument and by example the rights and interests of the working classes. The best known of these are "Principle and Practice," ''The Bio ters," " The Turn Out," " Mary Campbell," and "My Servant Rachel." It is needless to add that in these the work of helping the weaker and poorer members of society is not only enforced upon the wealthier classes as a duty, but shown to be no less the common interests of both the one and the other. Her next publication was a charming collection of " The Traditions of Palestine," and her next, her " Five Years of Youth." About the same time, also, she made her name known far more widely than before by gaining three

prizes for as many separate essays on oh propoaed by the Unitarian Associati 11 subjects were independent of t^i f though mutually connected i n f a?. and on opening the sealed envelope, t ing the names of the writers, it\3. that on each of the three subjects ttg ful competitor was a young lady i 3 years of age. named Harriet MartS1' the three subjects were respective],; 'I ' Faith, as unfolded by many p ro l| Evt "Providence, as manifested thtotl- Do dealings of God with Israel; " S dar " Essential Faith of the Universal S.^ you The next subject to which she anill 1 versatile pen was a series of •'U& but of Political Economy," in which t\3 mil ted to popularize, by familiar and W= fac illustrations and examples, the «s'■ ' which, speaking generally, AdaiTc" I*< Jeremy Bantham, and Roomilly, J < •' do, men of original minds, had laid dowA r°b abstract and strtctly philosophical JT ' These "Illustrations" extended w if 3 twenty numbers, they were aft«! nes republished in a collective form and. t, anc since been translated into French aijf my man, have helped, perhaps, more that ml work of modern times to spread abjr car other countries as well as in our own ju sor ledge of that Bcience which till onto^1 had beca so little known and efc ' These she followed up by two aimfliitjf to on cognate subjects—" Illustrations ofp me tion" and "Illustrations of Poor La», ser Paupers.' sh; In the year 1834, Harriet Martinesv tn' a visit to the United States, and m '-. return to Europe she published herf w* ments on the social, political, and relil ■ w* institutions in the United States, ajg, tin title of " Society in America " andhetl tv vations on the natural aspects of tbef tu' tern World and its leading personages, tt\ sti that of " A Retrospect of Western M On returning to England she contribtb 1 ■ ac a most useful little manual to C^jj he Knights series of useful publicatiom ci |j J° " How to Observe," which she follomjl a by others, respectively intended as gnijj/ the housemaid, the maid-of-rll-worll cr' ladies-maid and the dressmaker. ft the object of lightening her ]i& he labours by variety, she next emploj«lfe : pen on a series of tales for children, 8? she gwe to the world under the title of % ki Playfellow." Of these graphic tjlat most popular were " The Ccofton Big fo " The Settlers at Home," " The Peasjitf- 1S the Prince," and " Feats on. the Fiord," ' the same time she addressed to children larger growth two novels of a very mi \ m and distinctive character, called"!)) brook," and " The Hour and the Mu/i m latter of which works passed througttttnj; to editions. ■ Pr Her health began to f ailfunder so i j" work, and she was offered, but refuel- br pension. Her illness lasted several yall but she found means to turn evensioknaH,! so account by writing and publishing her 'fe ac in a Sick-room,' a book suggested byherf m experiences of suffering, and therdtf- sc appealing powerfully to the sympathiaij-i , . many of her readers. , : In 1844, soon after her restoration to Mr I and strength, we find Miss Martineaua-: ° more at work upon her favourite thenfe; ?. social subjects—and publishing three volw . of tales and sketches, illustrative of theft effects of our "Forest and Game Laws, "wife she followed up with a mote fanciful wl "The Billow and the Rock." In 1846$ varied the monotony of her quiet a}' iJ laborious life by a visit to the East; aadr recorded her impressions of the scenes ifp , countries through which she travellediii , book which she published in 1848, andwte •■ is still most justly popular, naii|| " Eastern Life, its Past and Present." | : . In ISSO or 1851 appeared a workbyM, Martineau, of a totally different enKKkf d from all its predecessors, namely, avoln| of " Letters on the Laws of Man's Nsw| j and D svelopment," which had passed betw4 t ] herself and a philosophic friend nanft' Atkinson; and it was this work which JuV n gave the public a hint that when she k| ft reached something more than middle life,& I r was inclined to adopt the teachings of 6 a " Positive" school of philosophy, founded^, Auguste Comte. Two or three years W* she still more thoroughly identified new r with this school of thought and faith, V giving to the world a condensed version' . (Jomte's " Positive Philosophy." Bntwl t thus employed in the study of scientifio ac! -, semi-religious subjects, she found timet davote to her " History of England during*^ • Thirty Years Peace," a book which ism j admired for its singular clearness, and w 1 studied impartiality of its views. | , Miss Martineau also, contributed art*. to the "Daily News," the "Peoples Joan* | ■ and "Once "a Week." She also wrote ot» works than those named. Of these, theW known perhaps are her " Essay on BnW • India" (1S51) ; " The Factory OontroT^j Warning against Meddling Leasl«ii»|. (1855); " Corporate Tradition," and « tional Rights and Local Dues on ShipH] (1557) ;i"Endowed[Schools in Ireland (1»|; " England and her Soldiers," a wwkonw ■ vexed question of army reform (I8a»)if ■>■ "Health, Husbandry, and Handicr&ts,' collection of stray papers contributed toBP of the leading serials of the day. .. At her charming home near AmWesw so long as health and strength remained»; her, Miss Martineau rejoiced to entel*Tj circle of attached literary and po"™ friends, and to recieve the visits ot w 3trangers, both English and foreign, as w» to travel in order to gratify wage W£ interests than those of mere pleasure, wr mere pleasure, apart from thebn«n«"«"J;, and to mere pleasure-seekers and iAiiWJz. triflers, she had an unconquerable aye»i»K but it anyone sought to benefit his m. creatures, high or low, rich or poor, an ( lead a useful life as a social being, «• member of the busy hive of Englun »"' or, indeed, of humanity at I»rgOi,to ™"W J her,^the doors of Miss Martineaushowe of her heart were at once open, i-0 in . in spite of.a painful chronic illness, sne thej greatest interest in every now. which had for its object the social, P^ and moral improvement of the wow which her lot was cast, and she corresp largely with the various leaders oi movements, who seldom sought in J» ; her counsel and advice. If any lady «

EVENING STAR SUPPLEMENT, OCTOBER 21, 18m