Whatever may be preached, and even practiced sometimes, satisfactorily, about the advantages of communism, the law of nature is that a family be distinct within itself--should consist of father, mother, and children, and them only.

Any extraneous relationships admitted therein are always difficult and generally impossible.

In this household, long ruled theoretically by Miss Gascoigne, and practically by Phillis, who was the cleverest and most determined woman in it, the elements of strife were always smoldering, and frequently bursting out into a flame.

The one bone of contention was, as might be expected, the children--who should rule them, and whether that rule was to be one of love or fear, Christian, though young, was neither ignorant nor inexperienced; and when, day by day and week by week, she had to sit still and see that saddest of all sights to a tender heart, children slowly ruined, exasperated by injustice, embittered by punishment, made deceitful or cowardly by continual fear, her spirit wakened up to its full dignity of womanhood and motherhood.
"They are my children, and I will not have things thus," was her continual thought.

But how to effect her end safely and unobnoxiously was, as it always is, the great difficulty.
She took quiet methods at first--principally the very simple one of loving the children till they began to love her.