THE MOTHER'S INFLUENCE.—The solid rock which turns the edge of the chisel, bears forever the impress of the leaf and the acorn, received long, long since, ere it had become hardened by time and the elements. If we track back to its fountain the mighty torrent which fertilizes the land with its copious streams, or sweeps over it with a devastating flood, we shall find it dripped in crystal drops from some mossy crevice among the distant hills. So, too, the gentle feelings and affections that enrich and adorn the heart, and the mighty passions that sweep away all the barriers of the soul and desolate society, they have sprung up in the infant bosom in the sheltered retirement of home. "I should have been an atheist," said John Randolph 'if it had not been for one recollection, and that was the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my hands in hers, and cause me on my knees to say, "Our Father which art in Heaven."