« VorigeDoorgaan »
those good principles which her child has ure he supports, has an important bearing received from maternal care and love. on the interests of others as well as his own. If we draw within the circle of our con
dle of our con. It is the inculcation of high and pure mortemplation the mothers of a civilized nation, als, such as these, that, in a free republic, i M w mia so many arwoman performs her sacred duty, and ful
fils her destiny.--Ladies' Companion. . tificers working, not on frail and perishable matter, but on the inimortal mind, moulding and fashioning beings who are to exist forev
HOME AND WOMAN. er. We applaud the artist whose skill and genius present the mimic ran upon the can- If ever there has been a more touching vass ; we admire and celebrate the sculptor and eloquent eulogium upon the charms of who works out that same image in enduring home and its dearest treasure-womanma, ble ; but how insignificant are these a-than is contained in the following extract, it chievements, though the highest and fairest has not been our good fortune to meet it: in all the departments of art, in comparison Our homes—what is their corner stone with the great vocation of human mothers? | but the virtue of woman? And on what They work not upon the canvass that shall does the social well being rest but on our fail, or the marble which shall crumble into
homes? Must we not trace all other blessdust, but upon mind, upon spirit, which is ings of civilized life to the door of our prito last forever, and which is to bear for good
vate dwellings? Are not our hearth-stones or evil, throughout its duration, the impress
guarded by the holy forms of conjugal, of a mother's plastic band.
filial, and parental love, the corner stones of Our security for the duration of the free
| both church and state---more sacred than institutions which bless our country, depends
either-more necessary than both? Let our upon the babits of virtue and the benevo
temples crumble and our academies decay lence of knowledge and of education. |
T1-let every public edifice, our halls of jusKnowledge does not comprise all which is tice, and our capitols of state, be leveled contained in the larger term of education, with the dust--but spare our homes. Man The feelings are to be disciplined; the pas- I did not invent, and he cannot improve or sions are to be restrained ; true and worthy abrogate them. A private shelter to cover motives to be instilled; and pure morality lin two hearts dearer to each other than all inculcated under all circumstances. All this the world: 1
the world; high walls to exclude the profane is comprised in education. Mothers who eyes of every human being-seclusion for are faithful to this great duty will tell their children enough to feel that mother is a pechildren that, neither in political nor in any culiar name—this is home, and here is the other concerns of life, can man withdraw birth place of every sacred thonght. Here himself from the perpetual obligations of the church and state must come for their conscience and of duty; that, in every act, origin and support. O, spare our homes! whether public or private, he incurs a just
The love, we experience there, gives us our responsibility; and that in no condition is
faith in an intimate goodness; the purity he warranted in trifling with important
and disinterested tenderness of bome is our rights and obligations. They will impress
earnest of a better world. In the relations upon their children the truth, that the exer
there established and fostered, do we find cise of the elective franchise is a social duty through life the chief solace and joy of our of as solemn a nature as man can be called
existence. What friends deserve the name, to perform ; that a man may not innocently compared with those whom a birth-right trifle with his vote; and that every free e-l gave us! One mother is worth a thousand lector is a trustee, as well for others as him- friends-one sister dearer and truer than self; and that every man and every meas-twenty intimate companions. We who
God walketh in the storm,
And with a father's care He hides the blackness of its wrath
And paints the rainbow there!
have played on the same bearth, under the light of smiles, who date back to the same season of innocence and hope; in whose veins run the same blood; do we not find that years only make more sacred and important the tie that binds us? Coldness may spring up, distance may separate, different spheres may divide, but those who continue to love at all, must find that the friends whom God himself gave are wholly unlike any we choose for ourselves, and that the yearning for these is the strongest spark in our expiring affection.
God walketh on the stars
With slow and solemn pace, And governs with his mighty hand
The boundless realms of space.
God walketh through the heav'ns,
Where glorious angels dwell; And Hallelujahs of the saints.
Through all their mansions swell.
God walketh everywhere,
And myriad voices blend To bid the universe he formid,
With awe his steps attend!
For the Miscellany. THE OMNIPRESENCE OF GOD.
BY ISAAC MILES CRAVATH.
For the Miscellany. DESPONDENCY.
BY MARVIN MILES.
God walketh o'er the earth,
As erst in Eden's grove; And conscious nature owns his power,
His wisdom, and his love.
Upon its stormy waves,
Through all its secret caves.
And must my heart resign the thought,
That long has cheered its adverse hours? My feet forever leave the path,
That still doth seem a path of flowers?
Ah! I had fondly hoped to shine,
And high that hope my spirit bore. But now a cruel fato is mine;
That bids this bosom hope no more.
God walketh in the field;
And at his passing by The flowers smile, and birds pour forth
Their charining melody.
And thus it is that every dny.
I lay some cherished scheme in death, And pleasure's flight, and joy's decay, Must purchase every fleeting breath.
God walketh in the groves,
And in the forest-woods; And solemn music-anthems swell
Through all their solitudes.
The pang when long loved hope expires
The spirits loss too great for tearsThe deep'ning shadow that invests
The vista of succeeding years.
God walketh o'er the hills
That wait his high command, As they with bare uncover'd heads
In his dread presence stand.
Are all the change that marks my days,
And all this clouded life shall Ering, Till time shall steal the latest hour
Of wretched being on his wing.
God walketh through the vales,
And draws in blessings nigh, . From out his bounteous store to feed
The ravens when they cry.
And let it steal my lates: hour,
And Death this wretched being closo; 'Twill only crush a broken heart,
That long has struggled for repose.
God walketh on the streams;
And at his awful tread The giant rivers in their might
Leap from their rocky bed!
God walketh in the sky,
Throughout its azure fields, And from his chariot of clouds
The lightning's shafts be wields.
Men and women have become extinctthey died about sixty years ago and left no heirs. Ladies and gentlemen have usurped their place.
A LIFE PICTURE.
or my mother; a wife, brother, or sister:
if one suffer thus, may not all? And what BY C. D. STUART.
if one's mother were shivering with cold, or
dying with hunger, or suffering from pain, There are pictures in life, as on canvass,
with no Keart to beat tenderly toward ber, which once seen are never forgotten. I re- and no hand to shield her grey hairs; can a member one such. It was years ago, on a sigut mor
on a sight more touching appear upon earth?— hot afternoon, that I saw an old man lean- Not to me! ing against a lamp-post, which he left in a I watched the old man for an hour, full of few moments, evidently wearied out, for an
reflections like the above, when I ventured iron hydrant, on whose square top he sat out
out to speak a word with him, to inquire inhimself dowu to rest. There was something
to his history, and, if he had them, his sor80 mournful in his look, that I threw open
pen rows and griefs. If youth is reverent, old
on the blinds of the window where I had been age seldom repulses it. There is a child. sitting, and, leaning over the casement, hood at either end of life, and the two min. watched him with an intensity of feeling gle when they meet. So I found it. Freely akin to anguish and tears. Over a brow, on to my question, “Friend, are you in want?" which I should judge not less than seventy be replied that he was way-worn, and tired, vinters had pressed their feet, and as many and nigh starved; an out-cast or cast-out summers their parching hands, and down from his own home; a home which, in other the sides of which struggled a few wbite years, he bad reared to shelter and make hairs, was drawn a faded bat, scarce shading happy those images of himself who now his hollow cheeks, while his body was garb- had so foully turned him forth to beggary ed in a covering which, though cleanly-look- and death. I was poor enough in this ing, bore unmistakable marks of a past age. world's goods, but infinitely rich, I trust, in His feet were cased in a poor apology for the sympathy that divides what it has with shoes; and thus accoutred, with "silvery the suffering, and I gave him
the suffering, and I gave him that which I beard unshorn,” in the very suu's eye, sad, had. It was but little, yet I have a thousyet vacant-looking, as though no bond of and times felt, and now feel, the tearful earth claimed, and no mortal friend cared for gratitude of that old man, for so small a him, he sat silent, immovable as the seat on kindness, sweeter to me than "strained honwhich he rested.
ey.” The memory of it flows into my There is to me no sight more tenderly heart like a rich odor. touching than that of old age. I reverence Could I have done less for him, though I the Chinese, in that they reverence old age. could do no more? Could I have passed by Even though comfort and happiness sur- such sorrow and suffering, without dropping round it, and youth and childbood smile if only one consoling word? The breath of lovingly upon it, it suggests to me more kindness is sometimes both the bread and than the ripest joy of earth. So near the water of life. Nay, I could not have done verge of life, it seems to me only so much less. Within me arose the suggestion, yet nearer to heaven, and the great mysteries of a little while, 0, child, now blest with sufthe grave, and it fills me with solemnly ten- ficiency, and thy head will be silvered, and der thoughts. Stranger though it may be, I may be as poorly sheltered as this old man's. see my kin, my nearest and dearest, and Thou, too, mayst have children who will even my own self imagined in it, and I could turn thee from thy home. It was a reciprono more treat it irreverently than I could city founded on the possibility of events far mock at immediate death. But old age inoff, swelling within me, that would not be want, suffering by the way-side, what so repressed; a sentiment of compassion, not touching as that? It might be my father, I altogether unselfish, which, as with God's
voice, bade me do as I did; a duty, whose and my alms, wherever I see the silvery sigomission would have pained my heart for- net on its brow. On earth, save God, I revme after-vhose fulfillment, broaght its erence nothing more. I never see it, but I grest reward.
I think of the children who mocked at Elisha, I looked not upon that old man as a beg- and against whom God sent a vengeance. gar. No, he had been a happy boy, had felt the spring breezes kiss his spotless cheek ad toss up his glossy bright hair. He had HOPE ON-HOPE EVER. been a light-hearted youth, had touched his
pa to the fountain of life when it was elear Though friends may desert, and fortune ed sheet, and had been happy with high frown upon us, let us not despair.aspirations, and dreams of faithful love. - Who ever gained anything by sitting down Finally, he had grown to manhood, passed and repining over his hard lot? It is true, the Rubicon, and seen in the distance before that some may thus, for a while, excite symEin, transcendently beautiful, the Mecca of pathy--but unless they exert themselves to If. Around him clustered his flock, beam- | rise superior to their misfortunes, that syming their bright eyes upon his sobered face: patby will soon degenerate into contemptBedding a halo over his home. Happy than which no earth-barbed dart were fun! a child, a youth, a man and a father, worse. We detest a drone or a mope-we Based in affections that refined and puri-despise him who is ever repining over the Sed him, and with affluence sufficient for past, nor stretches forth his hand to gather L.:be desires of life, could he ask for more? the blessings and enjoyments of the presCould be say to felicity, "Come nearer ent, and looks into the future with lack-lusBu ay sonl?"
tre eyes. They are their own tormentors But hold! change and blight hang upon no worse punishment is needed. te issue of an hour. The wife of the bap- As for us, God has implanted in our FJ 1220 died, misfortune came upon him, heart, that Angel of earth, Hope, and amid ad before the storm, passed away much the darkest conflicts of life, she whispers Eat was bright. The old oak, shorn of the soothingly, “the future holds for thee, gar- petecting forest, caught the lightning, and lands rich and rare-repine not, but go
od charred and blasted against the sky.- forth with a strong and upright heart to The stout heart palsied and the hand with
led and the hand witho meet thy fate, however dark it seems; it is end at its task.
all for the best. Your reward is sure. I Did the fond, beaming eyes of children will never desert thee.” And she has forismile upon the old man--the father? I kept her word. Dark clouds and angry Sup! bn with bitterness and reproach, his storms ever and anon burst upon us, and sa blood thrust him forth, alone, into the still hang threatening above, yet her pleaswwd! He went forth, he knew not whith-lo.
ant voice still urges us on to triumph and to E, not a beggar, but a venerabile old man,
bear. lurred by the sting that is "sharper than a
| We possess within ourselves, the germs of
We posses pent's tooth." He was Lear, without
t; without present and future happiness or misery, just the memories of a king. And this was not which we choose to nourish and call into exktong savages, but in a Christian land!
ercise. Every new idea, every generous and There are souls rude enough to mock at noble action-every conquest gained over od age like this. Wbo can ridicule even ignorance and vice, possesses charms for a mrey hairs? I cannot. Mendicity nor rational, thinking mind, which gold cannot cine coald stay in my heart the rise of a purchase, nor its myrmidons with tyrannilen der feeling toward ope so clad in livery cal arms take away. What though friends kr the grave. Old age has my sympathy have proved false and deserted us--we care
not. We bless the wind that has blown the with this niiserly miniature Lake. It was chaff away.
| always ready to receive, never to give. The Turt, we then to the converse of the good,
stream which carried the mill whenever its the wise and the gifted of all ages, as they
strength was sufficient for the purpose, came look down upon us from the shelves of our
winding its way through the forests and at
length turned around the base of the hill, well-filled library. In such company, we
which was the barrier of the waters of the can cheerfully forget them, and our sorrows
pond, as though it would sevk acquaintance also. In snch company we will grow wiser
with the waves, which were ever dashing at and better too-can we say as much for the
the top of the hill. Some wise-acre became beau monde?
possessed of the idea, that water could be "Let us then be up and doing,
borrowed from this pond to swell the millWith a heart for any fate,
strearn and make the mill a summer as well Still achieving still pursuing,
as winter laborer. This doubtless might Learn to labor and to wait."
| have been done, had suitable precautions
been taken-and proper locks preparel THE TRUANT POND. But the nature of the soil was unknown, or
little attended to, and some two or three A few years since I was a spectator of a persons undertook to make an outlet for the most novel scene in the Northern part of waters above, and train them for the mill. Maine. I was stopping at the time at the race. This was but the work of an hour. house of Dr. Blake in the village of Phillips, But the hard pin,which was the bazin of the on the banks of the Sandy River, a branch lake, resting as it did upon a light sandy of the Androscoggin. About six miles above soil, was hardly broken through before the .this village, and a few rods from Sandy waters seemed to rush towards the opening, River, there was situated a valuable flouring and in a few moments began to wash away mill on a small stream which emptied itself the light soil which served as a resting into the River, after having expended all its place and support to the sides of the pond, energies upon the mill before named. Quite and were absolutely necessary to sustain the unfortunate for the owners of the mill, the edges of this mighty pan. As soon as this waters of the stream were insufficient for was removed the weight of water would their purpose, for months during the sum- break down the barrier, now made too weak mer season. And it was very desirable that I to bear up against a force, which it had rethey should have more power, than was af- sisted for ages and the power becoming forded by the unassuming and unnamed stronger every moment, it was soon perstream. A half a mile from their mill was aceived that no force could again pen up the very beautiful pond of some sixty or seven- I waters which madly leaped through this ty acres in extent, and in the middle some new channel. The cry was given to those forty or fifty feet deep. This pond was fed occupying the mill and the houses adjacent, by a small stream. But though it swallow- and the operators and occupants had barely ed up this tiny tributary, it did not seem to time to escape when the mighty waves increase its proportions, nor was it disposed reached the buildings, which with all their to yield a tribute itself. How it preserved strength, could not resist for a moment the this unsocial position, it is impossible to onward rush of the waves. It not only show; but such, I am assured was the fact. swept the mill with a dwelling house conWhether its iulet, swollen by rains, or the tiguous, but it cut a deep channel, where melting of the snow, poured into its bosom the mill and house had stood, and not a stone many times its wonted supply of waters, or i of the cellar nor one of the huge boulders diminished to the tiny stream, it yielded its on which had rested the mill were to be feeble but ceaseless tribute, it was the same sound. All were swept away into the chan