Tenderly Dawn looked upon her little group each day, and all the maternal instincts of her nature sprang to the surface, as she thought of their lives coming without their asking, forced upon them to be battled out through storm and fire. Would that all parents might feel the responsibility of maternity, as that pure being did, who gave the richest, warmest current of her life to bear those children on. “He who has most of heart, knows most of sorrow,” and many were the moments of sadness that came to Dawn, as she saw beings who were recklessly brought into life to suffer for the want of love and care. But, though sorrowed, she never became morbid. She lived and worked by the light that was given her, earnestly, which is all a mortal can do.

No season was complete to her which did not bring to her side Miss Bernard, who seemed the complement of her very self. One warm summer evening when the air was sweet with the breath of roses, they sat together; earnest words flowing from soul to soul, and their natures blending like the parts of a sweet melody; Dawn's high hope floating above the rich undertone of the deep life-tide on which the soul of her friend was borne.

“I have often wondered,” said Dawn, as she clasped the friendly palm more tenderly, “if my life will be as firmly rooted as your own; if the same rich calm will pervade my being.”

“If it be once full of agitation, it will surely be calm at last,” said Miss Bernard, in that firm tone which indicates that the storms of life are over, “for we are like the molten silver, which continues in a state of agitation until all impurities are thrown off, and then becomes still. We know no rest until the dross is burned away, and our Saviour's face is seen reflected in our own.”

The moonlight fell on her features just then, almost transfiguring the still, pale countenance. That holy moment brought them nearer than years of common-place emotions, or any of the external excitements of life. A tenderer revealing of their relation to each other flashed through their hearts-a relation which the silvery moon, and still summer night typified, as all our states find their analogies in the external world.

“I often query,” said Dawn, breaking the silence, “what portion of your being I respond to?”

“I have often asked myself the same question. Dawn, of those whom I loved, and in my earlier years felt ambitious to become the counterpart of friends dear to my life. I have grown more humble now, and feel content to fill, as I know I only can, a portion of any soul. I can truly say, you touch and thrill every part of my being, if you do not fill it, and that just now you answer to every part. With some, my being stands still, I forget the past, and know no future. There is one who thus acts upon me now, though many others have stirred me to greater depths, and excited profounder sentiments,—this one calls forth the tenderest emotions of my heart and stimulates me to kindlier deeds. Thus do all in turn act and re-act upon each other, and what we need is to know just how to define this relation, for the emotions it calls forth are so often mistaken for those of love between the sexes, which marriage seals, and in few years reveals the painful fact, that what was supposed to be soul blending with soul, was only the union of a single thought and feeling, while the remainder of their nature was wholly unresponded to, its deepest and holiest aspirations unmated.”

“Do we not answer to each other now, because we are aglow with life, and each susceptible to the others emotion?” asked Dawn.

“Something deeper,” said her friend. “It is because we are both illumined by the divine essence which pervades all space and matter, as the air surrounds this globe. We are both full, and reflect each other's repletion. The theme is grand, and one which I would like to enlarge upon to-night, before our states are changed to those harsher ones, in which diviner truths are ever refracted.”

“I feel the force of your last assertion most thrillingly,” said Dawn, “for I know that a purely mental condition is antagonistic to spiritual light. How beautiful life becomes as we grow into the recognition of its laws, and learn of Him, who is law itself, and whose daily revealings, are the protecting arms around us.”

“Fully realizing this fractional mating of which we have spoken, I am led to question if we ever find one soul who meets every want, or whether we wander, gathering from this one, and that one, until the soul has all its emotions sounded, all its sentiments aroused and responded to. In my deepest, most earnest questioning for truth, this answer seems to be the only one, which gives me rest. How is it with you, whose vision is clearer than my own?”

“I feel that no one soul can meet all the wants of another. Yet seeing this principle, sufficient light does not dawn on the method of its application.”

“The light will come with the labor, as the fire flashes from the flint by strokes of the steel.”

“True,” said Dawn, gathering inspiration from the words, “And I have often felt that the world would be better to-day, if people agreed to live together while life and harmony inflowed to each, and no longer. I think the whole moral atmosphere would be toned and uplifted, the physical and spiritual beauty of children increased, and purer, nobler beings take the place of the angular productions of the day, if our unions were founded on this principle. And yet no one mind can point out the defects of our present system, and apply the remedy. The united voices of all, and the efforts of every individual must be combined, to accomplish a change so urgently demanded. All men and women should fortify themselves, and see that no being comes through their life, unless they have health and harmony to transmit. Maternity should never be forced; woman's highest and most sacred mission should never be prostituted, and yet this sin is every where. When every woman feels this truth, she will purify man, for he rises through her ascension. He needs her thought, her inspiration, her influence, to keep him every hour; and when the world has risen to that point, where minds can mingle; when society grants to man the right, to pass an hour in communion with any one who inspires him, we shall have made an advance towards a purer state. To-day mankind are suffering for mental and spiritual association. Give to men and women their right to meet on high, intellectual, and sympathetic grounds, and each will become better. We should then have no clandestine interviews, and few, if any of the passional evils which now burden every community, for the restraints which the jealousies and selfishness of the married have established, in a great measure create these.”

She paused: and the tall trees waved their branches as though in benediction on her head. Beauty was every where. There, in that summer night, who could utter aught but truth. The soft and gentle light of the hour, silvering with heavenly charms every rock, and tree and singing brook, excited no sophistries, but rather inspired the soul with divinest truths. Their words died away, but the spirit, the influence of their thoughts, will live through ages, and bring, perhaps, to those who read them, states peaceful and calm. That the relation between men and women needs some new revelation, we all know, but the light comes very slowly to us. We must work with such as is vouchsafed to us. Revelation comes to but few, and such can only work and wait, for the multitude. He who has toiled up the mount of vision, cannot reveal to the pilgrim in the vale, the things his eyes behold. The landscape view cannot be handed down, nor the emotions of the beholder, imparted to another.

The day is coming for true and earnest communion between the sexes, and the day is rapidly passing by when the glorious life which has been given us is misdirected and misapplied.