"Nothing lovelier can be found

In woman, than to study household good,

And good works in her husband to promote."

In an age in which the “rights of woman” have been insisted upon more earnestly, discussed more loudly, and pressed more fervently than at any former period, this delineation of the homely and humble duties of the sex may be justly supposed to be received with little favor.

The ladies who contend for the pulpit and the platform in their native land, and who cross the Atlantic to urge before an assembled world their right to mingle in the stormy debate, and to make the spacious hall re-echo with their shrill yeas and nays, cannot be thought to have much more reverence for the great epic poet than they have already expressed for the apostle to the Gentiles; and if the one was misled by his "Jewish prejudices," the other may well be imagined to have been fettered by the contracted spirit of the age in which he lived. While we select the above for our motto, we must ourselves confess that we not altogether either admire or approve of the character of the first mother, as drawn by the immortal poet. And we will dare to avow, that in our minds there has ever been a lurking suspicion, that a very consciousness of the strong dissimilarity between her own character and that of Milton's heroine must have been present to the mind of Hannah More, even while writing her beautiful eulogy upon it; not that we would accuse Miss More of insincerity, but because we know it to be one of the traits of human nature to be unwilling to be thought to be blind to a kind of excellence which we may yet be very conscious of not professing.

And Hannah More-the single lady, naturally firm, energetic and independent, caressed by bishops, lords, and statesmen, might find it easy to commend and to recommend the quiet submission, the humble deference, the lowly obedience of the wife

But after having said thus much, we will say that we do most sincerely subscribe to the truth of this doctrine taught by our poet. It is woman's highest praise,

"To study household good,

And good works in her husband to promote." And we would reiterate the often repeated assertion-home is the sphere of woman-the domestic circle the place where her influence is most naturally, most properly, and most efficiently exerted. Nor do we view the region as too contracted to forbid either the expansion or the cultivation of the highest powers of mind or of heart with which she may have been endowed. The influence of woman is silent and quiet, yet pervading and affecting every interest of society. It is like the dews of night, unseen, but not unfelteither pure and healthful, reviving, refreshing and invigorating all nature, or a noxious miasma diffusing around contagion and death.

The mother moulds the character of the future divine, legislator, or statesman. The wife inspires, encourages, and supports her husband; and the sister, the refined, intelligent, virtuous sister, is the best safeguard for the purity and the happiness of the brother, and the friend. Let woman look at the mighty power intrusted to her; the power of moving all the secret springs of human action; of moulding all the elements of society; let her realize her responsibilities, and feel all the weight of the obligations already resting upon her, and she will not ask a wider field, she will not seek a more commanding station.

The influence of the mother is a more common theme, but it is not probably greater than that of the wife. It is different, it is more direct and apparent; it has more the aspect of authority; it is often avowed and acknowledged, yet it is not, as we think, so subtle, so all pervading. Shrouded by the privacy of domestic life, the influence of woman upon public affairs can seldom be directly traced; yet while our national history bears upon its pages the name of him who sold, betrayed, and well nigh ruined his country, those more conversant with the annals of the day will remember that he was probably impelled to these deeds of infamy and ruin, by a wish the more readily to meet the demands which the pride, fully and extravagance of his wife made upon his purse.

In what a bright contrast to this modern Tar

peia, stands the venerable matron whose letters have been laid before the world. We rejoice in the publication of these letters. We feel that the family have thus added to the many obligations of respect and gratitude already imposed upon their country. They give us the portrait of an American matron, during the most interesting period of our national existence; and present a picture well worthy of being copied by the countrywomen of Mrs. Adams in the present day. We consider the work the more valuable, that the character there developed, although superior, is not uncommon. All the excellences of Mrs. Adams are attainable, and that too, by women in the ordinary ranks of life. The times in which she lived were such as tried the soul; but the sphere in which she moved during most of her life, was that in which the ordinary duties of women are to be found. She made it her great business "To study household good,

And good works in her husband to promote." "The heart of the husband did safely trust in her, so that he had no fear of spoil;" and by her prudent and judicious management of their family, she left him at liberty to devote himself to the service of his country. While the wife evidently felt the absence of the husband and companion, yet she cheerfully submitted to all the cares and trials consequent upon their separation. She never yielded to murmuring, fretfulness, or discontent. She found her happiness in the performance of her duty; and although living in a period of great apprehension and alarm, and knowing that all the interests dear to her were at stake, she yet indulged in no feminine weakness, no gloomy forebodings, no dark anticipations. She maintained a spirit of cheerfulness, hope, and confidence, admirably calculated to sustain both herself and her husband during the trying scenes through which they were called to pass.

These letters are the more interesting from commencing at an early age, and thus enabling us to mark the early development, the maturing and the ripening of the character. From the gay girl, who, in the exuberance of her youthful spirits, delighted to tease, while she yet sympathised with her sedate, and, as we fancy, somewhat stern lover, to the young wife and mother, thinking an absence of a few days too long; then the matron of middle life, yielding her husband at the call of her country, sustaining all the multiplied cares which thus devolved upon her, and diligently promoting all the interests of her family during his absence; then the wife of the American representative, standing in the presence of royalty, neither dismayed by the power, nor dazzled by the pomp which surrounded her; her returning

to her native land, and taking the highest station in it, gracefully dispensing the hospitalities required from her station, yet not forgetting the domestic habits of her early life; again quietly returning to private life, and cheerfully resuming her early habits and employments, with her skimming-dish in her hand, visiting the dairy at five in the morning. We delighted to follow her through all the changes of her eventful life. We love to contemplate her as a woman, fulfilling all the duties of her sex, and more, we wish to consider her as a fair representative of the women of her country. We love to think of her as an American woman; as one of the many who contributed largely to the prosperity of their country, not by haranguing her senate, or leading her armies; but by the quiet, unostentatious performance of the humble and laborious duties which devolved upon them, during the absence of their husbands from their lonely and often scattered homes.

We would hold the domestic character of Mrs. Adams before the countrywomen of the present day, and would be allowed to ask those who are now preparing to enter upon the busy scenes of life, if they are cultivating the tastes, the habits, the principles which will make them thus useful, thus honored. The station in which Mrs. Adams was placed, made her virtues the more conspicuous; but it did not endow her with them. They were the product of a secluded, domestic, religious education-an education which regulated the temper, cultivated the affections, and disciplined the mind.

She enjoyed no uncommon advantages. She was not able even to avail herself of those presented by the fashionable (we wonder if there were such a word in the vocabulary of our pilgrim ancestors?) schools of the day. Her education was wholly domestic. To a mind constituted like hers, this could be no disadvantageshe had too much natural activity to suffer her mental powers to stagnate; and she learned to study, not from a spirit of vanity or emulation, but from a love of knowledge, and a desire to in|| form herself. Reading probably became the amusement of her leisure hours: and this habit, early formed, continued through life. Her letters certainly show that she had a thorough acquaintance with the English poets, and with many of the best English writers-a knowledge more common formerly than now, when women depended more upon their private application to study, and a judicious course of reading, as to the means of education, than upon the modern aids, which are so abundantly supplied. The New England habits of domestic industry; the

lengthened evening devoted to reading; the cheerful fireside, and even the old-fashioned accessory of the ever-present knitting work, were all admirably calculated to form women of reflecting minds, industrious habits, and religious principle; and the work of education, the education of the whole woman, the fitting her to sustain all the responsibilities, and to discharge all the duties of wife and mother, daughter and sister, was commenced, and at an early period daily and imperceptibly continued and carried on, even while the subject was never discussed, the word not used, and perhaps while the parents were regretting their inability to bestow it. Many families being well brought up, who were yet never supposed to have been educated, parents not realizing that to bring up a child in the way he should go, to fit it to discharge well the duties of this life, and more, so to inculcate the great principles of truth as to lead to the establishment of a well grounded hope for the life to come, was the best education which could be given. We think it no small evil attendant upon the modern system of female education, so generally pursued in our country, that the constant excitement of a public school unfits a young lady to return to the quiet, sober duties of domestic life, or to enjoy the seclusion of the family circle. A young lady, after having passed through the course of one of our modern establishments for female education, either leaves it, if she be a girl of active, inquisitive, and aspiring mind, with her constitution enfeebled, and her nervous system shattered, from too great mental stimulus; or after having passed through the round of modern accomplishments, she considers her education completed when the last term closes, and throws aside her books, and her studies, as she does the restraints of the school room and governess; while she who, with fewer means of instruction at command, fewer of the oppliances of education, as Miss More calls them, if the desire for knowledge be awakened, and the pleasure to be derived from the exercise of the mental powers once enjoyed, becomes in a great measure self-taught, will make self-improvement the business of her life.

Her progress may be comparatively slow, but it will be sure. She will not be a prodigy at sixteen, but she will be a judicious, well-informed woman at thirty-five. It was this domestic education, this self-culture, this thorough discipline of the whole character, which fitted Mrs. Adams to discharge the various duties which at the different periods of her life devolved upon her, with

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so much honor to herself, and with so much benefit to her family. In all the relations of life she appears in a light which commands our respect and admiration. As a wife, while all the letters to her husband are marked by the independent thought, and good sense, which distinguished her, they yet breathe a delightful spirit of conjugal deference and respect, not always manifested by women of superior minds towards those whom they may yet have promised to "honor and obey." Mrs. Adams certainly obeyed the apostolic precept, and reverenced her husband; and happy the wife where the character of the husband renders a cheerful obedience so easy. Her letters to her sons are always admirable, and show how anxiously she desired, and how unwearying and self-denying were her endeavors, to promote their best interests. We find her watching over her aged parents with tender affection; kindly communicative to her sisters, amusing and instructing her nieces, and prudently advising after she had ceased to direct her daughter, and delighting her last days with her grandson.

The letter to Mr. Adams, dated February 8th, 1797, upon his election to the Presidential chair, we consider as a most admirable production. It breathes a spirit worthy of a daughter of the Puritans-a spirit which we could wish had more entirely animated every epistle which she wrote. While we regret to feel obliged to say, that these letters contain some expressions which we consider as objectionable-some sentiments which we cannot approve-yet we would desire to be allowed to recommend both the letters and the character of the venerable authoress to the consideration of her fair countrywomen.

They may there learn what qualities are most necessary to render the women of our own land useful, happy, and respected.

In conclusion, let us say, that while there is attached to the name of Mrs. Adams the high honor of being the wife of one President, and the mother of another, we trust that her name is destined to descend to future ages, with yet brighter radiance, as the mother of one of the earliest American philanthropists, who had caused his indignant voice to be heard in the hall of Con gress, and of one who stood, in his old age,* before the judicial tribunal of his country, there to plead the cause of injured and outraged humanity, for those who had nothing to commend them but their woes and their wrongs-and the woes and wrongs of their bleeding and oppressed race. *After having filled the highest office in his land.

A shepherd sang on the mountain-top, as he sat by a cool spring and guarded his flock. Tall cedars waved above him, and vines festooned the trees. Annin was the name of this shepherd; and he was fair and noble of form. Wild daring sparkled in his proud eye, and sometimes wreathed his lip as roses wreath a bower; his motions were full of grace, and his dark curls floated on the breeze. His forehead was like that of a young prince-lofty, with somewhat of haughtiness; and there was a regal grace in his expression that was beautiful.

Annin loved a dear young shepherdess with all that was left of his passionate heart after what he had given to ambition For in the wilds of the hills, beneath the eternal stars, hopes that surely seemed a mockery, they were so bright, thrilled his pulses to fire, and haunted his sleep with visions of enduring fame. Brooding over this ambition, and mingling it with charms of his Edre, Annin lost himself in reverie, and when he started to his feet at last, the sun had nearly set, and his flock were lost from sight. Bounding over the hills, he struck into a craggy defile, and far below him, leaping and scrambling from rock to jagged rock, he beheld the sheep of his master. The way looked fearful-looked impassible yet nothing could daunt the bravery of the young shepherd. Apparently a dark ravine, filled perhaps by a hidden river, lay before him. Down, after the flying flock, he sprang; rugged rocks were clambered over, chasms leaped, precipices slid; down, down, down the dangerous way he bounded like a torrent!

The air grew dim, he had descended so far. Looking up, he could see the red glow of sunset upon the overhanging trees. Down a few more leaps, and he stood on a broad plain, walled in on every side by pathless rocks and hills. A stream flowed through the centre with undulating curves, and the ground was level and fair. This was all he could see in the faint light falling from the sky far overhead; it was too dark to give a hope of his reaching the hill-top that night, and it was doubtful if he ever could scale those awful cliffs;-hunger might waste him,

lions might devour him! And was this the end of his ambition?-to perish in this fearful solitude? He flung himself with a despairing heart by the river side; where, overcome with weariness, he fell asleep and dreamed of Edre.

The bright sun of morning dimly illuminated the lonely valley, and awoke the young shepherd from his long sleep. The beams that fell on his face fell also on the clear river flowing by him. A gleam-a sparkle-a gleam! Why did Annis start and quiver? Why did his eye flash with that strange delight? His hand is buried in the clear stream, and withdrawn-behold! it is full of precious jewels-jewels flashing and quivering in his clasp, mixed with golden sand.

He started to his feet and sent up from his beautiful lips a shout of joy, and wonder, and triumph. With excited steps he paced to and fro the soft green bank of the river. Pale flowers drooped upon its brim, and pale fishes swam in its glittering waves. He pressed his flushed forehead with his hands, and tried to still the loud beating of his bosom, as thought after thought of wealth, and power, and grandeur, rushed over him.

The flock he came to serve grazed quietly a little distance away; they were nothing now to him. With lumps of shining gold and splendid stones he filled his humble garments, and slowly, retarded by their weight, he retraced his dangerous pathway.

No ravenous hearts were in the dim valley of magnificence; but while the shepherd had slept, the glittering eyes of the serpent had guarded him; and when he awoke, they had watched him with their intense and terrible smile of exultation.

In safety Annis stood again upon the mountaintop. A darker fire was in his eye, a richer flush upon his lip, a more imperial pride upon his brow. He looked the personification of inspired ambition. Like his might have been the form of Lucifer, before he was cast from heaven. Again the shout burst from his eager heart, ringing like wild music over the luxuriant hills,"Ho! a God and a King! Ho! a God and a

King!" And the tall mountains took up the echo and repeated, "Ho! a God and a King."

Not long after this, a band of men were led by the shepherd into his secret kingdom, and this band were sworn to be faithful to the young aspirant. He had them in his power, for he alone could lead them through the mountain pass; and when once in the hidden vale, he might have left them to perish for want of food, if they had dared to rebel against his authority.

Strange rumors flew over the surrounding nations of a beautiful God who had come down from heaven into a valley amid the mountains, and that he had filled it with riches and splendor; and that whoever worshipped and obeyed him were made wealthier and grander than King Solomon. Soon the retinue of the self-constituted God and King swelled to ten thousand, and his new country was filled with people.

Suddenly, as the moon rises in the midnight sky, a magnificent city arose in the centre of the valley. And because the sun never shone fully upon it, for the air was dim forever there, it was called the City of Night. Marble, and granite, and emerald, was hewn from the mountain caverns-silver, and gold, and precious stones, gathered from the river-bed. Temples, and towers, and palaces, reared their gorgeous forms, glittering in the twilight atmosphere. Indescribable splendor filled the vale. Many thousands from other lands came to the mountain-top to behold the magnificent pinnacle of the chief temple dedicated to the King, rising like a fountain of gems even above the hills themselves, yet upapproachable to all but the inhabitants dwelling below. With its beautiful turret, sparkling and beaming in the rays of the sun, whose glory it seemed to mock, this temple rose up to tell to other nations the splendor of this wonderful peo. ple, whose God lived and dwelt with them, and brought riches from the skies to reward his worshippers for their faith and devotion.

Truly this City of Night was like a dream in its gorgeousness. Hundreds of thousands of lamps burnt every night within its walls, for with its inhabitants night was turned into day, and the day into hours of repose. Arches of pure emerald spanned the marble paved streets; fountains of unique shape sent rainbow sprays to glitter in the rich lamp light. Hundreds of beautiful little temples richly decorated stood here and there; and upon the silver shrines within, pale blossoms and clusters of food were offered by fair devotees to Annin. Entranci g music floated upon the air, and voluptuously beautiful young creatures wreathed their shining arms in dances of enchanting grace, circling, and singing, and

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gliding through the illuminated streets, their white feet glancing over the smooth pavements, and their fa.r limbs waving and undulating to the sound of the ravishing melody. The fairest of earth were these young daughters of the mystic city. The courts, the palaces, the streets, the temples, were radiant with their lovely forms. Bright eyes flashed everywhere, and soft cheeks burned, and sweet lips smiled, and loose hair floated. The garments of these young maidens were embroidered with gems; their delicate ankles and round arms were circled with shining gems; their long tresses glittered with costly ornaments. Flashing girdles bound their silken robes.

Wo! to the young shepherdess on the hills round about if the eye of a son of the valley rested upon her beauty. Wo to her then, if she loved her parents and her home, for from that time the city of glory was her abiding-place, and her will was the will of the king. Yet many were intoxicated with the splendor of their fate, and loved the proud and fascinating young Annin. Wo to the vineyards and the flocks upon the mountains, for the children of the valley ravished them, till the jeweled goblets of the palaces overflowed with wine, and the golden dishes with dainty meats.

Edre, the first love of the ruler, was queen over all the beautiful maidens of her people. She walked in purple apparel, and a circlet burning with rare diamonds bound her fair brows. Edre was fit to be a queen. A simple nobleness graced every movement, and a calm majesty sat on her graceful form. She had large, slow-moving eyes, passionless, and deep, and pure, like an angel's eyes. She would have seemed angelic more than womanly, had it not been for the sweet witchery that played round her mouth.

It was not strange that the passionate and gifted shepherd should have loved just such a maiden before his ambition had been polluted by prosperity. All his poetic dreams seemed embodied in the purity of her calm radiance, and the power of his ardent nature never reached to the bottom of the deep fountains of her almost sinless soul.

The more that luxury and revelry abounded in the valley, the more did the fair queen seem to grow in majesty and beauty. A melancholy lustre shone through her loveliness like the effulgence of a star. She drank no wine at the banquet, and looked not upon the bewildering dances, nor offered incense upon the shrine of their God, even though she were his bride. The love that was once only hers was divided amid a thousand unholy women, and she withdrew her affections,