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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Olive Leaves, by Lydia Howard Sigourney
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Olive Leaves
+       Or, Sketches of Character
+
+Author: Lydia Howard Sigourney
+
+Release Date: June 23, 2011 [EBook #36501]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLIVE LEAVES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Julio Reis and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:
+
+   This work has no errata. The following typos were corrected:
+
+   * p. 82: chesnuts -> chestnuts
+
+   In this text-only version, italic was marked with _, and text in
+   small capitals was converted to uppercase.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Cover]
+
+
+
+
+Olive Leaves
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Indian Chief.--_P._ 229.]
+
+
+
+
+    OLIVE LEAVES.
+
+    OR,
+
+    SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.
+
+    BY
+
+    MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
+
+    GALL & INGLIS.
+
+    London:
+    25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
+
+    Edinburgh:
+    20 BERNARD TERRACE.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+An Olive Leaf was the first gift of the Earth after the Flood, to the
+sole survivors of a buried race. It was borne by the Dove, spreading a
+timid wing over the surging waters, so lately without a shore.
+
+The plant thus honoured, as the love-token of a World, rising in
+freshness from the wrecks of the Deluge, has long been a consecrated
+emblem of peace. It then brought the joyful tidings to the voyagers in
+the lonely Ark, of a home once more upon the green earth; and has since
+cheered many a Christian heart, with the assurance that the bitter
+waters of strife had abated.
+
+These, my simple "Olive Leaves," would fain be love-tokens to you, sweet
+young friends, who may chance to take them in your hand. Buds of the
+olive and of the rose, are ye: pour forth the spirit of peace and love,
+as ye unfold and ripen on the pilgrimage of life, that you may be
+gathered at its close, where their bloom is eternal.
+
+    L. H. S.
+
+    _Hartford, Connecticut._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                              Page
+
+    PREFACE,                                     3
+
+    THE LOST AND FOUND,                          9
+
+    CHILDHOOD'S PIETY,                          18
+
+    FRANK LUDLOW,                               19
+
+    VICTORY,                                    35
+
+    SILENT PEOPLE,                              37
+
+    LAURA BRIDGMAN,                             53
+
+    HUMBLE FRIENDS,                             55
+
+    BUTTERFLY IN A SCHOOL-ROOM,                 61
+
+    A BRAVE BOY,                                63
+
+    MAY MORNING,                                66
+
+    THE HUGUENOT GRANDFATHER'S TALE,            67
+
+    THE OLD WATCH,                              86
+
+    ENTERTAINING BOOKS,                         88
+
+    THE NEW YEAR,                               91
+
+    CYRUS,                                      93
+
+    ROME AND ITS RULERS,                        97
+
+    THE PLOUGHING OF THE SWORD,                105
+
+    THE GOOD AND BAD EMPEROR,                  108
+
+    BONAPARTE AT ST. HELENA,                   120
+
+    POLYCARP,                                  124
+
+    CHRISTMAS HYMN,                            127
+
+    THE FRIVOLOUS KING,                        128
+
+    TO A PUPIL LEAVING SCHOOL,                 131
+
+    PIOUS PRINCES,                             132
+
+    EVILS OF WAR,                              138
+
+    THE LIBERATED FLY,                         143
+
+    THE GOOD BROTHER AND SISTER,               146
+
+    THE WAITING CHILD,                         155
+
+    THE ADOPTED NIECE,                         156
+
+    THE ORPHAN,                                160
+
+    THE ONLY SON,                              163
+
+    LIFE,                                      175
+
+    A REMARKABLE CHILD,                        177
+
+    THE DYING SUNDAY SCHOOL BOY,               187
+
+    THE PRECOCIOUS INFANT,                     189
+
+    THE LAST ROSE BUD,                         195
+
+    THE CHERUB'S WELCOME,                      197
+
+    THE BABE, AND THE FORGET-ME-NOT,           199
+
+    TREATMENT OF ANIMALS,                      201
+
+    THE TREMBLING EYELID,                      207
+
+    PEACEFUL DISPOSITIONS,                     213
+
+    JOHN AND JAMES WILLIAMS,                   220
+
+    THE INDIAN KING,                           227
+
+    THE DOVES,                                 232
+
+    THE WAR-SPIRIT,                            236
+
+    EARLY RECOLLECTIONS,                       238
+
+    HUGUENOT FORT,                             243
+
+    I HAVE SEEN AN END OF ALL PERFECTION,      252
+
+
+
+
+OLIVE LEAVES.
+
+
+
+
+The Lost and Found.
+
+
+I have something to say to the young, about the advantage, as well as
+duty of obeying their parents. My story will be of an interesting boy,
+by the name of Charles Morton. He had a pleasant temper, and almost
+always wore a smile. He ardently loved his sister Caroline, who was
+several years younger than himself; and whenever he came from school,
+would ask for her, and take her in his arms, or guide her tottering
+footsteps.
+
+But Charles, with all his kindness of heart, had a sad fault. He would
+sometimes disobey his parents, when he was out of their sight. He did
+not remember that the Eye of God always saw him, both in darkness and in
+light, and would take note of the sin that he committed, though his
+parents knew it not. At a short distance from his home, was a beautiful
+river, broad and deep. His parents had strictly charged him never to
+venture in, and had explained to him the danger which a boy of eight
+years old would incur, in a tide so strong. Notwithstanding this, he
+would sometimes seek a spot where the banks, or the trees upon the
+shore, concealed him, and take off his shoes, and step into the water.
+He grew fond of wading, and would occasionally stay in the water a long
+time. Then, he greatly desired to swim. He frequently saw larger boys
+amusing themselves in this way, and longed to join them. But he feared
+lest they might mention it to his father, and determined to go alone.
+
+Here was the sin of the little boy, not only in continuing to disobey,
+but in studying how to deceive his kind parents. One fine afternoon in
+summer, school was dismissed at an earlier hour than usual. Now, thought
+Charles, I can make a trial at swimming, and get home, before my mother
+misses me. He sought a retired spot, where he had never seen his
+companions go, and hastened to throw off his clothes, and plunge into
+the water. He did not imagine that it was so deep there, and that the
+current was so exceedingly swift. He struggled with all his might, but
+was borne farther and farther from the shore. The sea was not a great
+distance from the mouth of the river, and the tide was driving on
+violently, and what could he do? Nothing, but to exhaust his feeble
+strength, and then give up, and be carried onwards. He became weary of
+beating the water with his feet and hands to no purpose, and his throat
+was dry with crying, and so he floated along, like a poor, uprooted
+weed. It was fearful to him to be hurried away so, with the waters
+roaring in his ears. He gave up all hope of seeing his dear home again,
+and dreaded the thought of being drowned, and devoured by monstrous
+fishes. How he wished that he had not disobeyed his good parents; and he
+earnestly prayed God to forgive him, and have mercy upon his soul.
+
+At Charles Morton's home, his mother had prepared a bowl of bread and
+milk for him, because he usually was hungry when he came from school.
+
+At length she began to look from the window, and to feel uneasy. Little
+Caroline crept to the door, and continually called "Tarle, Tarle!" But
+when the sun disappeared, and Mr. Morton returned, and nothing had been
+seen of the dear boy, they were greatly alarmed. They searched the
+places where he had been accustomed to play, and questioned his
+companions, but in vain. The neighbours collected, and attended the
+father in pursuit of his lost son. What was their distress, at finding
+his clothes in a remote recess, near the river's brink! They immediately
+gave him up as drowned, and commenced the search for his body. There was
+bitter mourning in his once happy home, that night. Many weeks elapsed,
+ere little Caroline ceased calling for her "_dear Tarle_," or the sad
+parents could be comforted. And it was remembered amid their affliction,
+that the beloved child whom they had endeavoured to teach the fear of
+God, had forgotten that All-seeing Eye, when he disobeyed his parents.
+
+But while they were lamenting their lost son, he was not dead. While
+faintly struggling on the river, he had been discovered, and taken up by
+an Indian canoe. He had been borne by the swift current far from the
+place where he first went into the water. And it was very long after he
+was rescued, before he came to his senses, so as to give any connected
+account of himself. Then, he was greatly shocked at finding himself in a
+boat, with two huge Indians. He shrieked, and begged to be taken to his
+father's house; but they paid no attention to his cries, and silently
+proceeded on their voyage. They wrapped a blanket around him, because he
+had no clothes, and offered him some parched corn, but he had no heart
+to eat. By the rough tossing of the boat, he discovered that they were
+upon the deep sea, and the broad moon rose high, and shone long, ere
+they drew near to land. Stupefied with terror, one of the Indians
+carried him in his arms to a rude hut, and gave him to his wife.
+
+"What have you brought?" said she, as she loosened the blanket, and
+discovered the dripping locks and shivering form of the affrighted
+child.
+
+"A white pappoose," answered the hoarse voice of the husband. Poor
+Charles looked up with a cry of horror and despair. The woman regarded
+him earnestly for a moment.
+
+"He is like my son that I buried," said she, and she folded her dark
+arms around him, and wept. She kindled a fire to warm him, and pressed
+food upon him, but he was sick at heart. She laid him in the rude bed of
+her dead child, and he sobbed himself into a deep, long sleep. It was
+late in the morning when he opened his eyes. Who can describe his
+distress! No kind parent to speak to him, no little sister to twine her
+arms around his neck. Nothing but a dark hovel, and strange Indian
+faces. The woman, with her husband and father, were the sole inhabitants
+of the hut, and of this lone, sea-girt island. A dreadful feeling of
+desolation came over him, and he laid down his head, and mourned
+bitterly. The red-browed woman pitied him, and adopted him into her
+heart, in place of the child she had lost. She brought him the coarse
+garments of her dead son, and he was obliged to put them on, for he had
+no other.
+
+His heart sunk within him, when on going out of the door, he could see
+no roof save the one where he had lodged. Some little rocky islands were
+in sight, but none of them inhabited. He felt as if he was alone in the
+world, and said, "This is the punishment of my disobedience."
+Continually he was begging with tears, to be taken to his home, and the
+men promised "when we go so far again in the boat, we will carry you."
+But their manners were so stern, that he began to fear to urge them as
+much as he wished. So every night, when he had retired to sleep, the
+woman said to her husband, "We will keep him. He will be contented. His
+beautiful blue eye is not so wild and strained, as when you brought him.
+My heart yearns towards him, as it did over the one that shall wake no
+more."
+
+She took him with her to gather the rushes, with which she platted mats
+and baskets, and showed him where the solitary bittern made her nest,
+and how to trace the swift steps of the heron, as with whirring wing
+half spread it hasted through the marshes to the sea. And she taught him
+to dig roots, which contain the spirit of health, and to know the herbs
+that bring sleep to the sick, and staunch the flowing blood: for she
+trusted that in industry, and the simple knowledge of nature, he would
+find content. At first, she brought him wild flowers, but she perceived
+that they always made him weep, for he had been accustomed to gather
+them for his little Caroline. So she passed them by, blooming in their
+wild recesses, and instructed him how to climb the trees where the
+grape-vine hung its airy clusters. And she gave him a choice bow and
+arrow, ornamented with brilliant feathers, and encouraged him to take
+aim at the birds that sang among the low branches. But he shrank back at
+the thought of hurting the warbler, and she said silently,
+
+"Surely, the babe of the white woman is not in spirit like his red
+brother. He who sleeps in the grave was happy when he bent the bow and
+followed his father to the chase."
+
+Little Charles spent a part of each day in watching the sails, as they
+glided along on the broad sea. For a long time, he would stand as near
+the shore as possible, and make signs, and shout, hoping they might be
+induced to come and take him to his home. But an object so diminutive,
+attracted no attention, and the small island, with its neighbouring
+group of rocks, looked so desolate, and the channel so obstructed and
+dangerous, that vessels had no motive to approach it.
+
+When the chill of early autumn was in the air, the Indian woman invited
+him to assist her in gathering the golden ears of the maize, and in
+separating them from their investing sheath. But he worked sorrowfully,
+for he was ever thinking of his own dear home. Once the men permitted
+him to accompany them, when they went on a short fishing excursion; but
+he wept and implored so violently to be taken to his parents, that they
+frowned, and forbade him to go any more in the boat. They told him, that
+twice or thrice in the year they performed a long voyage, and went up
+the river, to dispose of the articles of their manufacture and purchase
+some necessary stores. They should go when spring returned, and would
+then carry him to his parents. So the poor little boy perceived that he
+must try to be patient and quiet, through the long, dreary winter, in an
+Indian hut. The red-browed woman ever looked smilingly upon him, and
+spoke to him with a sweet, fond tone. She wished him to call her mother,
+and was always trying to promote his comfort. After Charles had obtained
+the promise of her husband and father, to take him home in the spring,
+his mind was more at rest. He worked diligently as his strength and
+skill would permit, on the baskets, mats, and brooms, with which the
+boat was to be freighted. He took pleasure in painting with the bright
+colours which they obtained from plants, two baskets, which were
+intended as presents for his mother and Caroline.
+
+The Indian woman often entertained him with stories of her ancestors.
+She spoke of their dexterity in the chase, of their valour in battle.
+She described their war-dances, and the feathery lightness of their
+canoes upon the wave. She told of the gravity of their chiefs, the
+eloquence of their orators, the respect of the young men for those of
+hoary hairs. She related instances of the firmness of their friendship,
+and the terror of their revenge.
+
+"Once the whole land was theirs, said she, and no white man dwelt in it,
+or had discovered it. Now, our race are few and feeble, they are driven
+away and perish. They leave their fathers' graves, and hide among the
+forests. The forests fall before the axe of the white man, and they are
+again driven out, we know not where. No voice asks after them. They fade
+away like a mist, and are forgotten."
+
+The little boy wept at the plaintive tone in which she spoke of the
+sorrows of her people, and said, "_I_ will pity and love the Indians, as
+long as I live." Sometimes, during the long storms of winter, he would
+tell them of the Bible, in which he had loved to read, and would repeat
+the hymns and chapters which he had learned at the Sabbath school. And
+then he regretted that he had not exerted himself to learn more when it
+was in his power, and that he had ever grieved his teachers. He found
+that these Indians were not able to read, and said, "Oh that I had now
+but _one_ of those books, which I used to prize so little when I was at
+home, and had so many." They listened attentively to all that he said.
+Sometimes he told them what he had learned of God, and added,
+
+"He is a good God, and a God of truth, but I displeased him when I was
+disobedient to my parents."
+
+At length, Spring appeared. The heart of little Charles leaped for joy,
+when he heard the sweet song of the earliest bird. Every morning he rose
+early, and went forth to see if the grass had not become greener during
+the night. Every hour, he desired to remind them of the long-treasured
+promise. But he saw that the men looked grave if he was impatient, and
+the brow of his Indian mother became each day more sad.
+
+The appointed period arrived. The boat was laden with the products of
+their industry. All was ready for departure. Charles wept when he was
+about to take leave of his kind Indian nurse.
+
+"I will go also," said she; and they made room for her in the boat. The
+bright sun was rising gloriously in the east, as they left the desolate
+island. Through the whole voyage she held the boy near her, or in her
+arms, but spoke not. Birds were winging their way over the blue sea,
+and, after they entered the river, poured forth the clearest melodies
+from shore and tree, but still she spoke not. There seemed a sorrow at
+her breast, which made her lip tremble, yet her eye was tearless.
+Charles refrained to utter the joy which swelled in his bosom, for he
+saw she was unhappy. He put his arm round her neck, and leaned his head
+on her shoulder. As evening approached, they drew near the spot, where
+she understood she must part from him. Then Charles said eagerly to her,
+
+"Oh, go home with me to my father's house. Yes, yes, come all of you
+with me, my dear, good people, that all of us may thank you together for
+having saved my life."
+
+"No," she answered sorrowfully: "I could not bear to see thy mother fold
+thee in her arms, and to know that thou wert mine no more. Since thou
+hast told me of thy God, and that he listened to prayer, my prayer has
+been lifted up to Him night and day, that thy heart might find rest in
+an Indian home. But this is over. Henceforth, my path and my soul are
+desolate. Yet go thy way, to thy mother, that she may have joy when she
+rises up in the morning, and at night goes to rest."
+
+Her tears fell down like rain, as she embraced him, and they lifted him
+upon the bank. And eager as he was to meet his parents, and his beloved
+sister, he lingered to watch the boat as it glided away. He saw that she
+raised not her head, nor uncovered her face. He remembered her long and
+true kindness, and asked God to bless and reward her, as he hastened
+over the well known space that divided him from his native village.
+
+His heart beat so thick as almost to suffocate him, when he saw his
+father's roof. It was twilight, and the trees where he used to gather
+apples, were in full and fragrant bloom. Half breathless, he rushed in
+at the door. His father was reading in the parlour, and rose coldly to
+meet him. So changed was his person, and dress, that he did not know his
+son. But the mother shrieked. She knew the blue eye, that no misery of
+garb could change. She sprang to embrace him, and fainted. It was a keen
+anguish to him, that his mother thus should suffer. Little Caroline
+clung around his neck, and as he kissed her, he whispered "Remember, God
+sees, and punishes the disobedient." His pale mother lifted up her head,
+and drew him from his father's arms, upon the bed, beside her. "Father,
+Mother," said the delighted boy, "forgive me." They both assured him of
+their love, and his father looking upward said, "My God, I thank thee!
+for this my son was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is
+found."
+
+
+
+
+Childhood's Piety.
+
+
+    If the meek faith that Jesus taught,
+      Admission fail to gain
+    Neath domes with wealth and splendour fraught,
+      Where dwell a haughty train,
+
+    Turn to the humble hearth and see
+      The Mother's tender care,
+    Luring the nursling on her knee
+      To link the words of prayer:
+
+    Or to the little bed, where kneels
+      The child with heaven-raised eye,
+    And all its guileless soul reveals
+      To Him who rules the sky;
+
+    Where the young babe's first lispings keep
+      So bright the parents tear,
+    The "_Now, I lay me down to sleep_,"
+      That angels love to hear.
+
+
+
+
+Frank Ludlow.
+
+
+"It is time Frank and Edward were at home," said Mrs. Ludlow. So she
+stirred and replenished the fire, for it was a cold winter's evening.
+
+"Mother, you gave them liberty to stay and play after school," said
+little Eliza.
+
+"Yes, my daughter, but the time is expired. I wish my children to come
+home at the appointed time, as well as to obey me in all other things.
+The stars are already shining, and they are not allowed to stay out so
+late."
+
+"Dear mother, I think I hear their voices now." Little Eliza climbed
+into a chair, and drawing aside the window-curtain, said joyfully, "O
+yes, they are just coming into the piazza."
+
+Mrs. Ludlow told her to go to the kitchen, and see that the bread was
+toasted nice and warm, for their bowls of milk which had been some time
+ready.
+
+Frank and Edward Ludlow were fine boys, of eleven and nine years old.
+They returned in high spirits, from their sport on the frozen pond. They
+hung up their skates in the proper place, and then hastened to kiss
+their mother.
+
+"We have stayed longer at play than we ought, my dear mother," said
+Edward.
+
+"You are nearly an hour beyond the time," said Mrs. Ludlow.
+
+"Edward reminded me twice," said Frank, "that we ought to go home. But
+O, it was such excellent skating, that I could not help going round the
+pond a few times more. We left all the boys there when we came away. The
+next time, we will try to be as true as the town-clock. And it is not
+Edward's fault now, mother."
+
+"My sons, I always expect you to leave your sports, at the time that I
+appoint. I know that you do not intend to disobey, or to give me
+anxiety. But you must take pains to be punctual. When you become men, it
+will be of great importance that you observe your engagements. Unless
+you perform what is expected of you, at the proper time, people will
+cease to have confidence in you."
+
+The boys promised to be punctual and obedient, and their mother assured
+them, that they were not often forgetful of these important duties.
+
+Eliza came in with the bread nicely toasted, for their supper.
+
+"What a good little one, to be thinking of her brothers, when they are
+away. Come, sweet sister, sit between us."
+
+Eliza felt very happy, when her brothers each gave her a kiss, and she
+looked up in their faces, with a sweet smile.
+
+The evening meal was a pleasant one. The mother and her children talked
+cheerfully together. Each had some little agreeable circumstance to
+relate, and they felt how happy it is for a family to live in love.
+
+After supper, books and maps were laid on the table, and Mrs. Ludlow
+said,
+
+"Come boys, you go to school every day, and your sister does not. It is
+but fair that you should teach her something. First examine her in the
+lessons she has learned with me, and then you may add some gift of
+knowledge from your own store."
+
+So Frank overlooked her geography, and asked her a few questions on the
+map; and Edward explained to her a little arithmetic, and told a story
+from the history of England, with which she was much pleased. Soon she
+grew sleepy, and kissing her brothers, wished them an affectionate
+good-night. Her mother went with her, to see her laid comfortably in
+bed, and to hear her repeat her evening hymns, and thank her Father in
+heaven, for his care of her through the day.
+
+When Mrs. Ludlow returned to the parlour, she found her sons busily
+employed in studying their lessons for the following day. She sat down
+beside them with her work, and when they now and then looked up from
+their books, they saw that their diligence was rewarded by her approving
+eye.
+
+When they had completed their studies, they replaced the books which
+they had used, in the bookcase, and drew their chairs nearer to the
+fire. The kind mother joined them, with a basket of fruit, and while
+they partook of it, they had the following conversation.
+
+_Mrs. Ludlow._ "I should like to hear, my dear boys, more of what you
+have learned to-day."
+
+_Frank._ "I have been much pleased with a book that I borrowed of one of
+the boys. Indeed, I have hardly thought of any thing else. I must
+confess that I put it inside of my geography, and read it while the
+master thought I was studying."
+
+_Mrs. Ludlow._ "I am truly sorry, Frank, that you should be willing to
+deceive. What are called _boy's tricks_, too often lead to falsehood,
+and end in disgrace. On this occasion you cheated yourself also. You
+lost the knowledge which you might have gained, for the sake of what, I
+suppose, was only some book of amusement."
+
+_Frank._ "Mother, it was the life of Charles the XII. of Sweden. You
+know that he was the bravest soldier of his times. He beat the king of
+Denmark, when he was only eighteen years old. Then he defeated the
+Russians, at the battle of Narva, though they had 80,000 soldiers, and
+he had not a quarter of that number."
+
+_Mrs. Ludlow._ "How did he die?"
+
+_Frank._ "He went to make war in Norway. It was a terribly severe
+winter, but he feared no hardship. The cold was so great, that his
+sentinels were often found frozen to death at their posts. He was
+besieging a town called Frederickshall. It was about the middle of
+December. He gave orders that they should continue to work on the
+trenches, though the feet of the soldiers were benumbed, and their hands
+froze to the tools. He got up very early one morning, to see if they
+were at their work. The stars shone clear and bright on the snow that
+covered every thing. Sometimes a firing was heard from the enemy. But he
+was too courageous to mind that. Suddenly, a cannon-shot struck him, and
+he fell. When they took him up, his forehead was beat in, but his right
+hand still strongly grasped the sword. Mother, was not that dying like a
+brave man?"
+
+_Mrs. Ludlow._ "I should think there was more of rashness than bravery
+in thus exposing himself, for no better reason. Do you not feel that it
+was cruel to force his soldiers to such labours in that dreadful
+climate, and to make war when it was not necessary? The historians say
+that he undertook it, only to fill up an interval of time, until he
+could be prepared for his great campaign in Poland. So, to amuse his
+restless mind, he was willing to destroy his own soldiers, willing to
+see even his most faithful friends frozen every morning into statues.
+Edward, tell me what you remember."
+
+_Edward._ "My lesson in the history of Rome, was the character of
+Antoninus Pius. He was one of the best of the Roman Emperors. While he
+was young, he paid great respect to the aged, and when he grew rich he
+gave liberally to the poor. He greatly disliked war. He said he had
+'rather save the life of one subject, than destroy a thousand enemies.'
+Rome was prosperous and happy, under his government. He reigned 22
+years, and died, with many friends surrounding his bed, at the age of
+74."
+
+_Mrs. Ludlow._ "Was he not beloved by the people whom he ruled? I have
+read that they all mourned at his death, as if they had lost a father.
+Was it not better to be thus lamented, than to be remembered only by the
+numbers he had slain, and the miseries he had caused?"
+
+_Frank._ "But mother, the glory of Charles the XII. of Sweden, was
+certainly greater than that of a quiet old man, who, I dare say, was
+afraid to fight. Antoninus Pius was clever enough, but you cannot deny
+that Alexander, and Caesar, and Bonaparte, had far greater talents. They
+will be called heroes and praised, as long as the world stands."
+
+_Mrs. Ludlow._ "My dear children, those talents should be most admired,
+which produce the greatest good. That fame is the highest, which best
+agrees with our duty to God and man. Do not be dazzled by the false
+glory that surrounds the hero. Consider it your glory to live in peace,
+and to make others happy. Believe me, when you come to your death-beds,
+and oh, how soon will that be, for the longest life is short, it will
+give you more comfort to reflect that you have healed one broken heart,
+given one poor child the means of education, or sent to one heathen the
+book of salvation, than that you lifted your hand to destroy your
+fellow-creatures, and wrung forth the tears of widows and of orphans."
+
+The hour of rest had come, and the mother opened the large family Bible,
+that they might together remember and thank Him, who had preserved them
+through the day. When Frank and Edward took leave of her for the night,
+they were grieved to see that there were tears in her eyes. They
+lingered by her side, hoping she would tell them if any thing had
+troubled her. But she only said, "My sons, my dear sons, before you
+sleep, pray to God for a heart to love peace."
+
+After they had retired, Frank said to his brother,
+
+"I cannot feel that it is wrong to be a soldier. Was not our father one?
+I shall never forget the fine stories he used to tell me about battles,
+when I was almost a baby. I remember that I used to climb up on his
+knee, and put my face close to his. Then I used to dream of prancing
+horses, and glittering swords, and sounding trumpets, and wake up and
+wish I was a soldier. Indeed, Edward, I wish so now. But I cannot tell
+dear mother what is in my heart, for it would grieve her."
+
+"No, no, don't tell her so, dear Frank, and pray, never be a soldier. I
+have heard her say, that father's ill health, and most of his troubles,
+came from the life that he led in camps. He said on his death-bed, that
+if he could live his youth over again, he would be a meek follower of
+the Saviour, and not a man of blood."
+
+"Edward, our father was engaged in the war of the Revolution, without
+which we should all have been slaves. Do you pretend to say that it was
+not a holy war?"
+
+"I pretend to say nothing, brother, only what the Bible says, Render to
+no man evil for evil, but follow after the things that make for peace."
+
+The boys had frequent conversations on the subject of war and peace.
+Their opinions still continued to differ. Their love for their mother,
+prevented their holding these discourses often in her presence; for they
+perceived that Frank's admiration of martial renown gave her increased
+pain. She devoted her life to the education and happiness of her
+children. She secured for them every opportunity in her power, for the
+acquisition of useful knowledge, and both by precept and example urged
+them to add to their "knowledge, temperance, and to temperance,
+brotherly kindness, and to brotherly kindness, charity."
+
+This little family were models of kindness and affection among
+themselves. Each strove to make the others happy. Their fire-side was
+always cheerful, and the summer evening walks which the mother took with
+her children were sources both of delight and improvement.
+
+Thus years passed away. The young saplings which they had cherished grew
+up to be trees, and the boys became men. The health of the kind and
+faithful mother became feeble. At length, she visibly declined. But she
+wore on her brow the same sweet smile which had cheered their childhood.
+
+Eliza watched over her, night and day, with the tenderest care. She was
+not willing that any other hand should give the medicine, or smooth the
+pillow of the sufferer. She remembered the love that had nurtured her
+own childhood, and wished to perform every office that grateful
+affection could dictate.
+
+Edward had completed his collegiate course, and was studying at a
+distant seminary, to prepare himself for the ministry. He had sustained
+a high character as a scholar, and had early chosen his place among the
+followers of the Redeemer. As often as was in his power, he visited his
+beloved parent, during her long sickness, and his letters full of fond
+regard, and pious confidence, continually cheered her.
+
+Frank resided at home. He had chosen to pursue the business of
+agriculture, and superintended their small family estate. He had an
+affectionate heart, and his attentions to his declining mother, were
+unceasing. In her last moments he stood by her side. His spirit was
+deeply smitten, as he supported his weeping sister, at the bed of the
+dying. Pain had departed, and the meek Christian patiently awaited the
+coming of her Lord. She had given much council to her children, and sent
+tender messages to the absent one. She seemed to have done speaking. But
+while they were uncertain whether she yet breathed, she raised her eyes
+once more to her first-born, and said faintly, "My son, follow peace
+with all men."
+
+These were her last words. They listened attentively, but her voice was
+heard no more.
+
+Edward Ludlow was summoned to the funeral of his beloved mother. After
+she was committed to the dust, he remained a few days to mingle his
+sympathies with his brother and sister. He knew how to comfort them, out
+of the Scriptures, for therein was his hope, in all time of his
+tribulation.
+
+Frank listened to all his admonitions, with a serious countenance, and a
+sorrowful heart. He loved his brother with great ardour, and to the
+mother for whom they mourned, he had always been dutiful. Yet she had
+felt painfully anxious for him to the last, because he had not made
+choice of religion for his guide, and secretly coveted the glory of the
+warrior.
+
+After he became the head of the household, he continued to take the
+kindest care of his sister, who prudently managed all his affairs, until
+his marriage. The companion whom he chose was a most amiable young
+woman, whose society and friendship greatly cheered the heart of Eliza.
+There seemed to be not a shadow over the happiness of that small and
+loving family.
+
+But in little more than a year after Frank's marriage, the second war
+between this country and Great Britain commenced. Eliza trembled as she
+saw him possessing himself of all its details, and neglecting his
+business to gather and relate every rumour of war. Still she relied on
+his affection for his wife, to retain him at home. She could not
+understand the depth and force of the passion that prompted him to be a
+soldier.
+
+At length he rashly enlisted. It was a sad night for that affectionate
+family, when he informed them that he must leave them and join the army.
+His young wife felt it the more deeply, because she had but recently
+buried a new-born babe. He comforted her as well as he could. He assured
+her that his regiment would not probably be stationed at any great
+distance, that he would come home as often as possible, and that she
+should constantly receive letters from him. He told her that she could
+not imagine how restless and miserable he had been in his mind, ever
+since war was declared. He could not bear to have his country insulted,
+and take no part in her defence. Now, he said, he should again feel a
+quiet conscience, because he had done his duty, that the war would
+undoubtedly soon be terminated, and then he should return home, and they
+would all be happy together. He hinted at the promotion which courage
+might win, but such ambition had no part in his wife's gentler nature.
+He begged her not to distress him by her lamentations, but to let him
+go away with a strong heart, like a hero.
+
+When his wife and sister found that there was no alternative, they
+endeavoured to comply with his request, and to part with him as calmly
+as possible. So Frank Ludlow went to be a soldier. He was twenty-five
+years old, a tall, handsome, and healthful young man. At the regimental
+trainings in his native town, he had often been told how well he looked
+in a military dress. This had flattered his vanity. He loved martial
+music, and thought he should never be tired of serving his country.
+
+But a life in camps has many evils, of which those who dwell at home are
+entirely ignorant. Frank Ludlow scorned to complain of hardships, and
+bore fatigue and privation, as well as the best. He was undoubtedly a
+brave man, and never seemed in higher spirits, than when preparing for
+battle.
+
+When a few months had past, the novelty of his situation wore off. There
+were many times in which he thought of his quiet home, and his dear wife
+and sister, until his heart was heavy in his bosom. He longed to see
+them, but leave of absence could not be obtained. He felt so unhappy,
+that he thought he could not endure it, and, always moved more by
+impulse than principle, absconded to visit them.
+
+When he returned to the regiment, it was to be disgraced for
+disobedience. Thus humbled before his comrades, he felt indignant and
+disgusted. He knew it was according to the rules of war, but he hoped
+that _he_ might have been excused.
+
+Some time after, a letter from home informed him of the birth of an
+infant. His feelings as a father were strong, and he yearned to see it.
+He attempted to obtain a furlough, but in vain. He was determined to
+go, and so departed without leave. On the second day of his journey,
+when at no great distance from the house, he was taken, and brought back
+as a deserter.
+
+The punishment that followed, made him loathe war, in all its forms. He
+had seen it at a distance, in its garb of glory, and worshipped the
+splendour that encircles the hero. But he had not taken into view the
+miseries of the private soldier, nor believed that the cup of glory was
+for others, and the dregs of bitterness for him. The patriotism of which
+he had boasted, vanished like a shadow, in the hour of trial; for
+ambition, and not principle, had induced him to become a soldier.
+
+His state of mind rendered him an object of compassion. The strains of
+martial music, which he once admired, were discordant to his ear. His
+daily duties became irksome to him. He shunned conversation, and thought
+continually of his sweet, forsaken home, of the admonitions of his
+departed mother, and the disappointment of all his gilded hopes.
+
+The regiment to which he was attached, was ordered to a distant part of
+the country. It was an additional affliction to be so widely separated
+from the objects of his love. In utter desperation he again deserted.
+
+He was greatly fatigued, when he came in sight of his home. Its green
+trees, and the fair fields which he so oft had tilled, smiled as an Eden
+upon him. But he entered, as a lost spirit. His wife and sister wept
+with joy, as they embraced him, and put his infant son into his arms.
+Its smiles and caresses woke him to agony, for he knew he must soon take
+his leave of it, perhaps for ever.
+
+He mentioned that his furlough would expire in a few days, and that he
+had some hopes when winter came of obtaining a substitute, and then they
+would be parted no more. He strove to appear cheerful, but his wife and
+sister saw that there was a weight upon his spirit, and a cloud on his
+brow, which they had never perceived before. He started at every sudden
+sound, for he feared that he should be sought for in his own house, and
+taken back to the army.
+
+When he dared no longer remain, he tore himself away, but not, as his
+family supposed, to return to his duty. Disguising himself, he travelled
+rapidly in a different direction, resolving to conceal himself in the
+far west, or if necessary, to fly his country, rather than rejoin the
+army.
+
+But in spite of every precaution, he was recognized by a party of
+soldiers, who carried him back to his regiment, having been three times
+a deserter. He was bound, and taken to the guard-house, where a
+court-martial convened, to try his offence.
+
+It was now the summer of 1814. The morning sun shone forth brightly upon
+rock, and hill, and stream. But the quiet beauty of the rural landscape
+was vexed by the bustle and glare of a military encampment. Tent and
+barrack rose up among the verdure, and the shrill, spirit-stirring bugle
+echoed through the deep valley.
+
+On the day of which we speak, the music seemed strangely subdued and
+solemn. Muffled drums, and wind instruments mournfully playing,
+announced the slow march of a procession. A pinioned prisoner came forth
+from his confinement. A coffin of rough boards was borne before him. By
+his side walked the chaplain, who had laboured to prepare his soul for
+its extremity, and went with him as a pitying and sustaining spirit, to
+the last verge of life.
+
+The sentenced man wore a long white mantle, like a winding-sheet. On his
+head was a cap of the same colour, bordered with black. Behind him,
+several prisoners walked, two and two. They had been confined for
+various offences, and a part of their punishment was to stand by, and
+witness the fate of their comrade. A strong guard of soldiers, marched
+in order, with loaded muskets, and fixed bayonets.
+
+Such was the sad spectacle on that cloudless morning: a man in full
+strength and beauty, clad in burial garments, and walking onward to his
+grave. The procession halted at a broad open field. A mound of earth
+freshly thrown up in its centre, marked the yawning and untimely grave.
+Beyond it, many hundred men, drawn up in the form of a hollow square,
+stood in solemn silence.
+
+The voice of the officer of the day, now and then heard, giving brief
+orders, or marshalling the soldiers, was low, and varied by feeling. In
+the line, but not yet called forth, were eight men, drawn by lot as
+executioners. They stood motionless, revolting from their office, but
+not daring to disobey.
+
+Between the coffin and the pit, he whose moments were numbered, was
+directed to stand. His noble forehead, and quivering lips were alike
+pale. Yet in his deportment there was a struggle for fortitude, like one
+who had resolved to meet death unmoved.
+
+"May I speak to the soldiers?" he said. It was the voice of Frank
+Ludlow. Permission was given, and he spoke something of warning against
+desertion, and something, in deep bitterness, against the spirit of war.
+But his tones were so hurried and agitated, that their import could
+scarcely be gathered.
+
+The eye of the commanding officer was fixed on the watch which he held
+in his hand. "The time has come," he said, "Kneel upon your coffin."
+
+The cap was drawn over the eyes of the miserable man. He murmured, with
+a stifled sob, "God, I thank thee, that my dear ones cannot see this."
+Then from the bottom of his soul, burst forth a cry,
+
+"O mother! mother! had I but believed"--
+
+Ere the sentence was finished, a sword glittered in the sunbeam. It was
+the death-signal. Eight soldiers advanced from the ranks. There was a
+sharp report of arms. A shriek of piercing anguish. One convulsive leap.
+And then a dead man lay between his coffin and his grave.
+
+There was a shuddering silence. Afterwards, the whole line was directed
+to march by the lifeless body, that every one might for himself see the
+punishment of a deserter.
+
+Suddenly, there was some confusion; and all eyes turned towards a
+horseman, approaching at breathless speed. Alighting, he attempted to
+raise the dead man, who had fallen with his face downward. Gazing
+earnestly upon the rigid features, he clasped the mangled and bleeding
+bosom to his own. Even the sternest veteran was moved, at the
+heart-rending cry of "_Brother! O my brother!_"
+
+No one disturbed the bitter grief which the living poured forth in
+broken sentences over the dead.
+
+"Gone to thine account! Gone to thine everlasting account! Is it indeed
+thy heart's blood, that trickles warmly upon me? My brother, would that
+I might have been with thee in thy dreary prison. Would that we might
+have breathed together one more prayer, that I might have seen thee look
+unto Jesus of Nazareth."
+
+Rising up from the corpse, and turning to the commanding officer, he
+spoke through his tears, with a tremulous, yet sweet-toned voice.
+
+"And what was the crime, for which my brother was condemned to this
+death? There beats no more loyal heart in the bosom of any of these
+men, who do the bidding of their country. His greatest fault, the source
+of all his misery, was the love of war. In the bright days of his
+boyhood, he said he would be content to die on the field of battle. See,
+you have taken away his life, in cold blood, among his own people, and
+no eye hath pitied him."
+
+The commandant stated briefly and calmly, that desertion thrice repeated
+was death, that the trial of his brother had been impartial, and the
+sentence just. Something too, he added, about the necessity of enforcing
+military discipline, and the exceeding danger of remissness in a point
+like this.
+
+"If he must die, why was it hidden from those whose life was bound up in
+his? Why were they left to learn from the idle voice of rumour, this
+death-blow to their happiness? If they might not have gained his pardon
+from an earthly tribunal, they would have been comforted by knowing that
+he sought that mercy from above, which hath no limit. Fearful power have
+ye, indeed, to kill the body, but why need you put the never-dying soul
+in jeopardy? There are those, to whom the moving of the lips that you
+have silenced, would have been most dear, though their only word had
+been to say farewell. There are those, to whom the glance of that eye,
+which you have sealed in blood, was like the clear shining of the sun
+after rain. The wife of his bosom would have thanked you, might she but
+have sat with him on the floor of his prison, and his infant son would
+have played with his fettered hands, and lighted up his dark soul with
+one more smile of innocence. The sister, to whom he has been as a
+father, would have soothed his despairing spirit, with the hymn which in
+infancy, she sang nightly with him, at their blessed mother's knee. Nor
+would his only brother thus have mourned, might he but have poured the
+consolations of the Gospel, once more upon that stricken wanderer, and
+treasured up one tear of penitence."
+
+A burst of grief overpowered him. The officer with kindness assured him,
+that it was no fault of theirs, that the family of his brother was not
+apprized of his situation. That he strenuously desired no tidings might
+be conveyed to them, saying that the sight of their sorrow would be more
+dreadful to him than his doom. During the brief interval between his
+sentence and execution, he had the devoted services of a holy man, to
+prepare him for the final hour.
+
+Edward Ludlow composed himself to listen to every word. The shock of
+surprise, with its tempest of tears, had past. As he stood with
+uncovered brow, the bright locks clustering around his noble forehead,
+it was seen how strongly he resembled his fallen brother, ere care and
+sorrow had clouded his manly beauty. For a moment, his eyes were raised
+upward, and his lips moved. Pious hearts felt that he was asking
+strength from above, to rule his emotions, and to attain that
+submission, which as a teacher of religion he enforced on others.
+
+Turning meekly towards the commanding officer, he asked for the body of
+the dead, that it might be borne once more to the desolate home of his
+birth, and buried by the side of his father and his mother. The request
+was granted with sympathy.
+
+He addressed himself to the services connected with the removal of the
+body, as one who bows himself down to bear the will of the Almighty. And
+as he raised the bleeding corpse of his beloved brother in his arms, he
+said, "O war! war! whose tender mercies are cruel, what _enmity_ is so
+fearful to the soul, as _friendship_ with thee."
+
+
+
+
+Victory.
+
+
+    Waft not to me the blast of fame,
+      That swells the trump of victory,
+    For to my ear it gives the name
+      Of slaughter, and of misery.
+
+    Boast not so much of honour's sword,
+      Wave not so high the victor's plume,
+    They point me to the bosom gor'd,
+      They point me to the blood-stained tomb.
+
+    The boastful shout, the revel loud,
+      That strive to drown the voice of pain,
+    What are they but the fickle crowd
+      Rejoicing o'er their brethren slain?
+
+    And, ah! through glory's fading blaze,
+      I see the cottage taper, pale,
+    Which sheds its faint and feeble rays,
+      Where unprotected orphans wail:
+
+    Where the sad widow weeping stands,
+      As if her day of hope was done;
+    Where the wild mother clasps her hands
+      And asks the victor for her son:
+
+    Where the lone maid in secret sighs
+      O'er the lost solace of her heart,
+    As prostrate in despair she lies,
+      And feels her tortur'd life depart:
+
+    Where midst that desolated land,
+      The sire, lamenting o'er his son,
+    Extends his pale and powerless hand,
+      And finds its only prop is gone.
+
+    See, how the bands of war and woe
+      Have rifled sweet domestic bliss;
+    And tell me if your laurels grow
+      And flourish in a soil like this?
+
+
+
+
+Silent People.
+
+
+It was supposed in ancient times, that those who were deprived of
+hearing and speech, were shut out from knowledge. The ear was considered
+as the only avenue to the mind. One of the early classic poets has said.
+
+    "To instruct the deaf, no art could ever reach,
+    No care improve them, and no wisdom teach."
+
+But the benevolence of our own days has achieved this difficult work.
+Asylums for the education of mute children are multiplying among us, and
+men of talents and learning labour to discover the best modes of adding
+to their dialect of pantomime the power of written language. The
+neighbourhood of one of these Institutions has furnished the opportunity
+of knowing the progress of many interesting pupils of that class. Their
+ideas, especially on religious subjects, are generally very confused at
+their arrival there, even when much care has been bestowed upon them at
+home.
+
+A little deaf and dumb boy, who had the misfortune early to lose his
+father, received tender care and love from his mother and a younger
+sister, with whom it was his chief delight to play, from morning till
+night. After a few years, the village where they resided was visited
+with a dangerous fever, and this family all lay sick at the same time.
+The mother and daughter died, but the poor little deaf and dumb orphan
+recovered. He had an aged grandmother who took him to her home, and
+seemed to love him better for his infirmities. She fed him carefully,
+and laid him in his bed with tenderness; and in her lonely situation, he
+was all the world to her. Every day she laboured to understand his
+signs, and to communicate some new idea to his imprisoned mind. She
+endeavoured to instruct him that there was a Great Being, who caused the
+sun to shine, and the grass to grow; who sent forth the lightning and
+the rain, and was the Maker of man and beast. She taught him the three
+letters G O and D; and when he saw in a book this name of the Almighty,
+he was accustomed to bow down his head with the deepest reverence. But
+when she sought to inform him that he had a soul, accountable, and
+immortal when the body died, she was grieved that he seemed not to
+comprehend her. The little silent boy loved his kind grandmother, and
+would sit for hours looking earnestly in her wrinkled face, smiling, and
+endeavouring to sustain the conversation. He was anxious to perform any
+service for her that might testify his affection; he would fly to pick
+up her knitting-bag or her snuff-box when they fell, and traverse the
+neighbouring meadows and woods, to gather such flowers and plants as
+pleased her. Yet he was sometimes pensive and wept; she knew not why.
+She supposed he might be grieving for the relatives he had lost, and
+redoubled her marks of tenderness. She often perused with great
+interest, accounts of the intelligence and happiness of the deaf and
+dumb, who enjoy a system of education, adapted to their necessities, and
+thought if any thing could separate her from her beloved charge, it
+would be that he might share such an inestimable privilege.
+
+At length, the eyes of this benevolent lady grew dim through age, and
+when the little suppliant, by his dialect of gestures, besought her
+attention, she was unable to distinguish the movements of his hands, or
+scarcely the form of his features. It was then her earnest request that
+he might be placed at the American Asylum in Hartford, for the education
+of the deaf and dumb. There, when his first regrets at separation had
+subsided, he began to make rapid improvement. He became attached to his
+companions and teachers, and both in his studies and sports, was happy.
+When he had nearly completed the period allotted for a full course of
+instruction, a conversation like the following took place one evening,
+between him and a preceptor whom he loved:
+
+"I have frequently desired to ask what were some of your opinions,
+before you became a pupil in this Institution. What, for instance, were
+your ideas of the sun and moon?"
+
+"I supposed that the sun was a king and a warrior, who ruled over, and
+slew the people, as he pleased. When I saw brightness in the west, at
+closing day, I thought it was the flame and smoke of cities which he had
+destroyed in his wrath. The moon, I much disliked. I considered her
+prying and officious, because she looked into my chamber when I wished
+to sleep. One evening, I walked in the garden, and the half-moon seemed
+to follow me. I sought the shade of some large trees, but found she was
+there before me. I turned to go into the house, and advised her not to
+come, because I hated her. But when I lay down in my bed, she was there.
+I arose and closed the blinds. Still there were crevices through which
+she peeped. I bade her _go away_, and wept with passion, because she
+disregarded my wishes. I suspected that she gazed at me, more than at
+others, because I was deaf and dumb, and that she would tell strangers
+of it, for I felt ashamed of being different from other children."
+
+"What did you think of the stars?"
+
+"They were more agreeable to me. I imagined that they were fair and
+well-dressed ladies, who gave brilliant parties in the sky; and that
+they sometimes rode for amusement, on beautiful horses, carrying large
+candles in their hands."
+
+"Had you any conception of death?"
+
+"When my little sister died, I wondered why she lay still so long. I
+thought she was lazy to be sleeping when the sun had arisen. I gathered
+violets, and threw them in her face, and said in my dialect of signs,
+"Wake up; wake up!" And I was displeased at her, and went so far as to
+say, "What a fool you are!" when she permitted them to put her in a box,
+and carry her away, instead of getting up to play with me.
+
+"Afterwards, when my mother died, they told me repeatedly, that she was
+_dead, dead_; and tried to explain to me what death meant. But I was
+distressed when I asked her for bread, that she did not give it to me;
+and when she was buried, I went every day where they had laid her,
+waiting, and expecting that she would rise. Sometimes I grew impatient,
+and rolled upon the turf that covered her, striking my forehead against
+it, weeping and saying, "Mother, get up! get up! why do you sleep there
+so long with the child? I am sick, and hungry, and alone. Oh, Mother!
+mother! get up!" When I was taken to my grandmother's house, I could no
+longer visit the grave, and it grieved me; for I believed if I continued
+to go and cry there, she would at length hear me and come up."
+
+"I know that more pains were taken to instil religious principles into
+your mind, than are commonly bestowed upon the deaf and dumb. Will you
+tell me what was your opinion of the Supreme Being?"
+
+"My kind grandmother laboured without ceasing, to impress me with
+reverence for the Almighty. Through her efforts I obtained some idea of
+the power and goodness which are visible in creation; but of HIM, who
+wrought in the storm and in the sunshine, I was doubtful whether it were
+a strong man, a huge animal, or a vast machine. I was in all the
+ignorance of heathen sin, until by patient attendance on your judicious
+course of instruction, knowledge entered into my soul."
+
+He then expressed to his teacher, the gratitude he felt for the
+blessings of education, and affectionately wishing him a good night,
+retired to repose.
+
+Instances of the development of kind affections and religious hopes, are
+often touchingly displayed among the children who share in the privation
+of hearing and speech. This was peculiarly the case with two little
+silent sisters, beautiful in person and of gentle dispositions. Their
+names were Phebe and Frances Hammond. The eldest was a very fair,
+interesting child. She was deaf and dumb from her birth, but from
+infancy showed quick perceptions and a lively attention to every object
+that passed before the eye. She seemed perfectly happy, when the little
+sister, two and a half years younger, and like herself mute, was old
+enough to play with her. She would lead her with the greatest
+gentleness, keeping watch lest she should get hurt, with a tender,
+continual care. When they were permitted to amuse themselves out of
+doors, if she saw any thing approaching which she feared, she thought
+not of herself, but encircled the little one in her arms, and by cries
+sought for her relief and protection. If they wished to climb a fence,
+she would proceed at first, alone, trying every part, to be sure of its
+safety, ere she returned to aid her darling sister, keeping a firm hold
+on her as she ascended, and jumping over on the other side, to extend
+her little arm and lift her tenderly down. It was a touching sight, to
+view these silent children, at their healthful sports upon the smooth
+green lawn, or beneath the shade of spreading trees, supplying as it
+were, the deficiency of Nature, by an increased exercise of the
+sweetest, most sustaining affections.
+
+Ere long, they expressed their desire to attend school, that they might
+"learn to do, like other children." Here they were very diligent, and by
+great attention from the instructress were taught to sew, to write, and
+to spell many words. Visitants of the school expressed surprise at the
+neatness of their needle-work, and chirography.
+
+When they were brought by their father, from their home in
+Massachusetts, to the Asylum for the deaf and dumb, in Hartford, Phebe
+was ten, and Frances seven and a half years old. There was at that time
+a regulation in force, that no pupil under the age of ten years, could
+be received, being supposed unable to derive full benefit from their
+system of instruction.
+
+Yet these little silent sisters, who had been together night and day,
+whose features and garb were the same, the smile or the sadness of one
+face being suddenly reflected on the other, as if but one soul animated
+two bodies, how could they be parted? The idea of a separate existence,
+a divided pleasure, had never entered their minds. Now, they gazed on
+each other with an expression of the deepest anguish. They folded each
+other in their arms. No power of speech was so eloquent as their
+imploring looks. The law relaxed its prohibition in their case. They
+were permitted to remain together.
+
+Phebe took her seat immediately among the one hundred and forty pupils,
+forgetting in her desire to learn, the embarrassment of a stranger.
+Little Frances was more diffident, and clung to her as to a mother,
+never for a moment disappointed in finding the tenderest sympathy and
+love. Soon they became cheerful and happy. Their affectionate hearts
+were open to every innocent pleasure. Though the youngest in school,
+they were so docile and industrious as to obtain a rank among the best
+scholars; and when the lessons of each day were over, they comforted
+themselves with their sweet, sisterly love. If one received the simplest
+gift, it was instantly shared; if it could not be divided it was
+considered as the property of both.
+
+Phebe taught the little one to keep her clothes without spot or stain,
+and to put every article in its proper place. She led her by the hand
+wherever she went, and if there was a tear on her cheek she kissed it
+away. Little Frances looked up to her, with the most endearing and
+perfect confidence. When they went home, at the vacations in spring and
+autumn, the affectionate deportment of these beautiful mute children,
+and their progress in the dialect of signs, as well as in written
+speech, was admired by all. After they had enjoyed the benefit of
+instruction somewhat more than two years, Phebe was observed to have a
+slight cough, and being taken ill, was obliged to return to her parents.
+Symptoms of consumption were too plainly revealed to be mistaken. As she
+became more emaciated and feeble, she desired to be carried every day at
+a certain hour, into an unoccupied room, and left for a while, by
+herself. On being asked why she wished this, she answered that she might
+better lift up her thoughts to Him who heareth prayer.
+
+"In heaven," she said, "there are babes, and children, and persons of
+every age. I think I have seen this in my mind, in a bright dream. I am
+so weak, I shall die. I pray that I may go to heaven. Oh! I wish Frances
+to love God. She is my good sister."
+
+She was asked if it was her wish to live and be restored to health. She
+replied,
+
+"No, I would see Jesus."
+
+So, in quietness and peace, the voiceless spirit of the loving child
+departed, to rejoice, we trust, amid the melodies of heaven. Sweet,
+sisterly affection seemed to have been her principal solace, here below.
+And if it was capable of imparting such happiness to these deaf mutes,
+surely the children who are blessed with hearing and speech, might still
+more fully enjoy, and exemplify it. All who have brothers and sisters
+should perform their duty tenderly towards them, with constant gratitude
+to Him who has vouchsafed them the comfort of such relations.
+
+Any little departure from kindness, will cause painful remembrances in a
+time of bereavement. A boy was seen often at the grave of a brother,
+younger than himself. He hid his face upon the grassy mound and wept
+bitterly. A friend who once saw him there, said, "How much you loved
+your brother." But he replied through his tears, "My grief is because I
+did not love him more."
+
+We have spoken of silent people. I can tell you of one who suffers a
+still heavier calamity. At the same Institution for the deaf and dumb,
+is a girl, to whom noonday and midnight are the same, who takes no
+pleasure in the summer landscape or the fair changes of nature, hears
+not the sound of brooks bursting loose in spring, nor the song of birds,
+nor the laughter of the young child, neither looks upon the face of
+mother or of friend. She is not only deaf and dumb, but blind. Her name
+is Julia Brace. Her earliest years were spent in the home of her
+parents, who were poor, and had several younger children. Of all their
+movements she was observant, as far as her state would allow; and when
+the weather was cold, would sometimes kneel on the floor of their humble
+dwelling, to feel if their little feet were naked as well as her own. If
+she ascertained that others, and not herself, were furnished with shoes
+and stockings, she would express uneasiness at the contrast. Her
+perception, with regard to articles of dress, was more accurate than
+could have been expected, and when any gifts were presented her, soon
+ascertained and preferred those which were of the most delicate texture.
+Seated on her little block, weaving thin strips of bark with bits of
+leather, which her father who was a shoemaker threw away, she
+constructed for her cat, strange bonnets, or other ornaments, equally
+rude, and yet not wholly discordant with the principles of taste.
+
+Sometimes, when the mother went out to a day's work of washing, she left
+Julia, notwithstanding her peculiar helplessness, with the care of the
+younger children. On such occasions, she evinced more of maternal
+solicitude, and even of skill in domestic legislation than could have
+been rationally expected.
+
+Once, when a dish had been broken, she imitated what she supposed might
+be her mother's discipline, and shook the little careless offender with
+some force. Then placing her hand upon its eyes, and discovering that it
+wept, and considering the act of discipline complete, she hastened to
+take it in her arms and press it to her bosom, and by preserving
+tenderness, soothe it into good-humour and confidence.
+
+While yet a child, her parents were relieved from the expense of her
+maintenance, by some charitable ladies, who placed her in the family of
+an elderly matron who kept a small day-school. Her curiosity was now
+called forth into great activity, to search out the employments of the
+scholars, and try to imitate them. She observed that much of their time
+was occupied with books. So she held a book long before her own
+sightless eyes. But no knowledge visited her imprisoned mind. Then, she
+held an open book before the face of her favourite kitten, feeling its
+mouth at the same time, and perceiving that its lips did not move, shook
+its shoulder and rapped its ear, to quicken its imitation of the
+studious children.
+
+Trifling as these circumstances are in themselves, they show perception,
+and perseverance, struggling against the barriers that Nature had
+interposed. Needle-work and knitting had been taught her, and from these
+employments she drew her principal solace. With these she would busy
+herself for hours, until it became necessary to prompt her to the
+exercise that health required. Counterpanes, patiently constructed by
+her, of small pieces of calico, were sold to aid in supplying her
+wardrobe, and specimens of her work were distributed by her patrons, to
+prove of what nicety and industry the poor, blind, and silent girl was
+capable.
+
+It was sometimes an amusement to her visitants to give into her hand
+their watches, and test a peculiar sagacity which she possessed, in
+restoring each to its owner. Though their position with regard to her,
+or to each other, was frequently and studiously varied, and though she
+might hold at the same time, two or three watches, neither stratagem nor
+persuasion could induce her to yield either, except to the person from
+whom she received it. This tenacity of principle, to give every one his
+own, might be resolved into that moral honesty which has ever formed a
+conspicuous part of her character. Though nurtured in poverty, and
+after her removal from the parental roof, in the constant habit of being
+in contact with articles of dress or food which strongly tempted her
+desires, she has never been known to appropriate to herself, without
+permission, the most trifling object. In a well-educated child, this
+might be no remarkable virtue; but in one, whose sealed ear can receive
+no explanation of the rights of property, and whose perfect blindness
+must often render it difficult even to define them, the incorruptible
+firmness of this innate principle is truly laudable. There is also
+connected with it a delicacy of feeling, or scrupulousness of
+conscience, which renders it necessary, in presenting her any gift, to
+assure her repeatedly, by a sign which she understands, that it is _for
+her_, ere she will consent to accept it.
+
+After her admission into the Asylum for the deaf and dumb, in Hartford,
+her native place, efforts were made by one of the benevolent instructors
+in that Institution to teach her the alphabet. For this purpose raised
+letters, as well as those indented beneath a smooth surface, were put in
+requisition. Punctually she repaired to the school-room, with the seeing
+pupils, and spent hour after hour in imitating with pins upon a cushion,
+the forms of each separate letter. But all in vain. However accurate her
+delineations might sometimes be, they conveyed no idea to the mind,
+sitting in thick darkness. It was therefore deemed best that it should
+pursue those occupations which more immediately ministered to its
+comfort and satisfaction.
+
+It has been observed that persons who are deprived any one sense, have
+additional vigour infused into those that remain. Thus blind persons are
+distinguished by exquisite delicacy of touch, and the deaf and dumb
+concentrate their whole souls in the eye, their only avenue to
+knowledge. But with her, whose ear, eye, and tongue, are alike dead to
+action, the power of the olfactory organs is so heightened, as almost to
+form a new and peculiar sense. It almost transcends the sagacity of the
+spaniel.
+
+As the abodes which from her earliest recollection she had inhabited,
+were circumscribed and humble, it was supposed that at her first
+reception into the Asylum, she might testify surprise. But she
+immediately busied herself in quietly exploring the size of the
+apartments, and smelled at the thresholds, and then, as if by the union
+of a mysterious geometry with a powerful memory, never made a false step
+upon a flight of stairs, or entered a wrong door, or mistook her seat at
+the table. At the tea-table with the whole family, on sending her cup to
+be replenished, if one is accidentally returned to her, which has been
+used by another person, she perceives it in a moment, and pushes it from
+her with some slight appearance of disgust, as if her sense of propriety
+had been invaded. There is not the slightest difference in the cups, and
+in this instance she seems endowed by a sense of penetration not
+possessed by those in the full enjoyment of sight.
+
+Among her various excellencies, neatness and love of order are
+conspicuous. Her simple wardrobe is systematically arranged, and it is
+impossible to displace a single article in her drawers, without her
+perceiving and reinstating it. When the large baskets of clean linen are
+weekly brought from the laundress, she selects her own garments without
+hesitation, however widely they may be dispersed among the mass. If any
+part of her dress requires mending, she is prompt and skilful in
+repairing it, and her perseverance in this branch of economy greatly
+diminishes the expense of her clothing.
+
+The donations of charitable visitants are deposited in a box with an
+inscription, and she has been made to understand that the contents are
+devoted to her benefit. This box she frequently poises in her hand, and
+expresses pleasure when it testifies an increase of weight, for she has
+long since ascertained that money is the medium for the supply of her
+wants, and attaches to it a proportionable value.
+
+Though her habits are perfectly regular and consistent, yet
+occasionally, some action occurs which it is difficult to explain. One
+summer morning, while employed with her needle, she found herself
+incommoded by the warmth of the sun. She arose, opened the window,
+closed the blinds, and again resumed her work. This movement, though
+perfectly simple in a young child, who had seen it performed by others,
+must in her case have required a more complex train of reasoning. How
+did she know that the heat which she felt was caused by the sun, or that
+by interposing an opaque body she might exclude his rays?
+
+Persons most intimately acquainted with her habits assert, that she
+constantly regards the recurrence of the Sabbath, and composes herself
+to a deeper quietness of meditation. Her needle-work, from which she
+will not consent to be debarred on other days, she never attempts to
+resort to, and this wholly without influence from those around her. Who
+can have impressed upon her benighted mind the sacredness of that day?
+and by what art does she, who is ignorant of all numerical calculation,
+compute without error the period of its rotation? A philosopher who
+should make this mysterious being his study, might find much to astonish
+him, and perhaps something to throw light upon the structure of the
+human mind.
+
+Before her entrance at the Asylum, it was one of her sources of
+satisfaction to be permitted to lay her hand upon the persons who
+visited her, and thus to scrutinize with some minuteness, their
+features, or the nature of their apparel. It seemed to constitute one
+mode of intercourse with her fellow-beings, which was soothing to her
+lonely heart, and sometimes gave rise to degrees of admiration or
+dislike, not always to be accounted for by those whose judgment rested
+upon the combined evidence of all their senses. But since her removal to
+this noble institution, where the visits of strangers are so numerous as
+to cease to be a novelty, she has discontinued this species of
+attention, and is not pleased with any long interruption to her
+established system of industry.
+
+The genial influences of spring wake her lone heart to gladness, and she
+gathers the first flowers, and even the young blades of grass, and
+inhales their freshness with a delight bordering on transport.
+Sometimes, when apparently in deep thought, she is observed to burst
+into laughter, as if her associations of ideas were favourable, not only
+to cheerfulness, but to mirth. The society of the female pupils at the
+Asylum is soothing to her feelings, and their habitual kind offices,
+their guiding arm in her walks, or the affectionate pressure of their
+hands, awaken in her demonstrations of gratitude and friendship. One of
+them was sick, but it was not supposed that amid the multitude that
+surrounded her, the blind girl would be conscious of her absence. A
+physician was called, and she was made to understand his profession by
+placing a finger upon her pulse. She immediately arose, and led him with
+the earnest solicitude of friendship to the bedside of the invalid,
+placing her hand in his with an affecting confidence in the power of
+healing. As she has herself never been sick, it is the more surprising
+that she should so readily comprehend the efficacy and benevolence of
+the medical profession.
+
+Julia Brace is still an inmate of the Asylum at Hartford. She leads a
+life of quiet industry, and apparent contentment. Some slight services
+in the domestic department supply the exercise that health requires, and
+the remainder of the time she chooses to be employed in sewing or
+knitting. Visitants often linger by her side, to witness the mystical
+process of threading her needle, which is accomplished rapidly by the
+aid of her tongue. So, the tongue that hath never spoken is still in
+continual use.
+
+Her youth is now past, and she seems to make few, if any, new mental
+acquisitions. Her sister in calamity, Laura Bridgman, of the Institution
+for the Blind in Boston, has far surpassed her in intellectual
+attainments, and excites the wondering admiration of every beholder. The
+felicity of her position, the untiring philanthropy of her patron, Dr.
+Howe, and the constant devotion of an accomplished teacher, have
+probably produced this difference of result, more than any original
+disparity of talents or capacity.
+
+Julia, in her life of patient regularity, affords as strong a lesson as
+can be given of the power of industry to soothe privation and to confer
+content. While employed she is satisfied, but if at any time unprovided
+with work, her mind preys upon itself, not being able to gather ideas
+from surrounding objects, and having but a limited stock of knowledge to
+furnish material for meditation. If this poor heart which is never to
+thrill at the sound of a human voice, or be lifted up with joy at the
+fair scenery of earth, and sky and waters, finds in willing diligence a
+source of happiness, with how much more gladness should we turn to the
+pursuits of industry, who are impelled by motives and repaid by results
+which she must never enjoy!
+
+Dear young friends, who can see the smile on the faces of those whom you
+love, who can hear their approving voices, who can utter the words of
+knowledge, and rejoice in the glorious charms of nature, who know also
+that life is short, and that you must give strict account of it to God,
+how faithfully and earnestly should you improve your time! You who have
+the great, blessed gift of speech, be careful to make a right use of it.
+Yes: speak kind, and sweet, and true words, and so help your own souls
+on their way to Heaven.
+
+
+
+
+Laura Bridgman.
+
+THE DEAF, DUMB, AND BLIND GIRL, AT THE INSTITUTION FOR THE BLIND, IN
+BOSTON
+
+
+    Where is the light that to the eye
+      Heaven's holy message gave,
+    Tinging the retina with rays
+      From sky, and earth, and wave?
+
+    Where is the sound that to the soul
+      Mysterious passage wrought,
+    And strangely made the moving lip
+      A harp-string for the thought?
+
+    All fled! all lost! Not even the rose[1]
+      An odour leaves behind,
+    That, like a broken reed, might trace
+      The tablet of the mind.
+
+    That mind! It struggles with its fate,
+      The anxious conflict, see!
+    As if through Bastile-bars it sought
+      Communion with the free.
+
+    Yet still its prison-robe it wears
+      Without a prisoner's pain;
+    For happy childhood's beaming sun
+      Glows in each bounding vein.
+
+    And bless'd Philosophy is near,
+      In Christian armour bright,
+    To scan the subtlest clew that leads
+      To intellectual light.
+
+    Say, lurks there not some ray of heaven
+      Amid thy bosom's night,
+    Some echo from a better land,
+      To make the smile so bright?
+
+    The lonely lamp in Greenland cell,
+      Deep 'neath a world of snow,
+    Doth cheer the loving household group
+      Though none around may know;
+
+    And, sweet one, hath our Father's hand
+      Plac'd in thy casket dim
+    Some radiant and peculiar lamp,
+      To guide thy steps to Him?
+
+[Footnote 1: Laura is deprived of the sense of smell, which in Julia's
+case is so acute.]
+
+
+
+
+Humble Friends.
+
+
+Kindness to animals shows an amiable disposition, and correct
+principles. The inferior creation were given for our use, but not for
+our abuse or cruelty. Many of them add greatly to the comfort of
+domestic life, and also display qualities deserving of regard. The noble
+properties of the dog, the horse, and the "half-reasoning elephant,"
+have long been known and praised. But among the lower grades of animals,
+especially if they receive kind treatment, traits of character are often
+discovered that surprise or delight us.
+
+Cats, so frequently the objects of neglect or barbarity, are more
+sagacious than is generally supposed. The mother of four young kittens
+missed one of her nurslings, and diligently searched the house to find
+it. Then she commenced calling upon the neighbours, gliding from room to
+room, and looking under sofas and beds with a troubled air. At length
+she found it in a family in the vicinity, where it had been given by her
+mistress. Taking it in her mouth, she brought it home and bestowed on it
+her nursing cares and maternal caresses for a few weeks, then carried it
+back to the same neighbour, and left it in the same spot where she found
+it. It would seem as if she wished to testify her approbation of the
+home selected for her child, and desired only to nurture it until it
+should be old enough to fill it properly.
+
+A cat who had repeatedly had her kittens taken from her and drowned
+immediately after their birth, went to a barn belonging to the family,
+quite at a long distance from the house. She so judiciously divided her
+time, as to obtain her meals at home and attend to her nursery abroad.
+At length she entered the kitchen, followed by four of her offspring,
+well-grown, all mewing in chorus. Had she foresight enough to conclude,
+that if she could protect them until they reached a more mature age,
+they would escape the fate of their unfortunate kindred?
+
+A little girl once sat reading, with a large favourite cat in her lap.
+She was gently stroking it, while it purred loudly, to express its joy.
+She invited a person who was near, to feel its velvet softness.
+Reluctant to be interrupted in an industrious occupation that required
+the use of both hands, the person did not immediately comply, but at
+length touched the head so abruptly that the cat supposed itself to have
+been struck. Resenting the indignity, it ceased its song, and continued
+alternately rolling and closing its eyes, yet secretly watching, until
+both the busy hands had resumed their employment. Then, stretching forth
+a broad, black velvet paw, it inflicted on the back of one of them a
+quick stroke, and jumping down, concealed itself beneath the chair of
+its patron. There seemed in this simple action a nice adaptation of
+means to ends: a prudent waiting, until the retaliation that was
+meditated could be conveniently indulged, and a prompt flight from the
+evil that might ensue.
+
+The race of rats are usually considered remarkable only for
+voraciousness, or for ingenious and mischievous inventions to obtain the
+gratification of appetite. A vessel that had been much infested by
+them, was when in port fumigated with brimstone, to expel them. Escaping
+in great numbers, they were dispatched by people stationed for that
+purpose. Amid the flying victims a group was observed to approach
+slowly, upon the board placed between the vessel and the shore. One of
+those animals held in his mouth a stick, the extremities of which were
+held by two others, who carefully led him. It was discovered that he was
+entirely blind. The executioners making way for them, suffered them to
+live. It was not in the heart of man to scorn such an example.
+
+Another of our ships, while in a foreign port, took similar measures to
+free itself from those troublesome inmates. Amid the throngs that fled
+from suffocating smoke to slaughtering foes, one was seen moving
+laboriously as if overburdened. Climbing over the bodies of his dead
+companions, he bore upon his back another, so old as to be unable to
+walk. Like Eneas, escaping from the flames of Troy, perhaps it was an
+aged father that he thus carried upon his shoulders. Whether it were
+filial piety or respect for age, his noble conduct, as in the previous
+instance, saved his life and that of his venerable friend.
+
+Sheep are admired for their innocence and meekness, more than for strong
+demonstrations of character. Yet the owner of a flock was once surprised
+by seeing one of his fleecy people rushing to and fro beneath his
+window, in great agitation and alarm. Following her to the pasture,
+where she eagerly led the way, he found a fierce dog tearing the sheep.
+Having put him to flight, he turned in search of the messenger, and
+found her in a close thicket, where she had carefully hidden her own
+little lamb, ere she fled to apprize the master of their danger. This
+strangely intelligent animal was permitted to live to the utmost limit
+of longevity allotted to her race.
+
+The instinct of the beaver approaches the bounds of reason. Their
+dexterity in constructing habitations and rearing mounds to repel the
+watery element, surpasses that of all other animals. A gentleman who
+resided where they abound, wished to ascertain whether this was
+inherent, or the effect of imitation. He took therefore, to his house,
+an infant beaver, ere its eyes were opened. It was an inmate of his
+kitchen, where one day, from a leaky pail, a small stream of water oozed
+out upon the floor. Out ran the little beaver, and collected sticks and
+clay, with which it built a dam to stop the passage of the tiny brook.
+
+An Indian, going out to shoot beaver, saw a large one felling a lofty
+tree. Ere he gave the finishing strokes, he ascended a neighbouring
+hill, throwing his head about, and taking deep draughts of air. The
+Indian, who stedfastly regarded him, supposed that he was taking an
+observation of which way the wind blew: as when he made his last effort
+on the tree, he made use of this knowledge to shelter himself from
+injury at its fall. He then measured the trunk into equal lengths for
+the height of the house he was to build, and loading his broad tail with
+wet clay, made a mark at each division. Uttering a peculiar cry, three
+little beavers appeared at their father's call, and began to knaw
+asunder the wood at the places which he had designated.
+
+"When I saw this," said the Indian, "I turned away. Could I harm such a
+creature? No. He was to me as a brother."
+
+Among the insect tribes, the ant sustains a good character for foresight
+and industry, having been cited by the wise monarch of Israel as an
+example and reproof to the sluggard. Their almost resistless force in
+the tropical countries, where they move in bodies, shows the power that
+the feeble may acquire through unity of effort and design.
+
+When Dr. Franklin was on his embassy in France, soon after our
+Revolution, he one morning sat musing over his solitary breakfast, and
+perceived a legion of large black ants taking possession of the
+sugar-bowl. His philosophic mind being ever ready for experiments, he
+caused it to be suspended from the ceiling by a string. They returned.
+The sweet food was above their reach. It was worth an effort to regain
+it. One placed himself in a perpendicular position, and another mounted
+upon his shoulders. Others ascended the same scaffolding, each
+stretching to his utmost altitude. Down fell the line. Yet it was again
+and again renewed. Then the Babel-builders disappeared. Had they given
+up the siege? No. They had only changed their mode of attack. Soon they
+were seen traversing the ceiling, and precipitating themselves upon the
+coveted spoil, by the string that sustained it. Here was somewhat of the
+same boldness and perseverance that led Hannibal across the Alps, to
+pour his soldiers down upon astonished Italy.
+
+Thus the spider that sought so many times to fasten its frail thread,
+and at length succeeded, gave a profitable lesson to King Robert the
+Bruce, when he ruminated in discouragement and despair on his failing
+enterprises.
+
+Parrots are generally considered as senseless repeaters of sounds and
+words, that convey neither sentiment nor feeling. Now and then, there
+seems some variation from this rule. A parrot who had been reared with
+kindness, selected as his prime favourite the youngest child in the
+family. By every means in his power he expressed this preference. The
+little girl was seized with a severe sickness. He missed her in her
+accustomed haunts, and turning his head quickly from side to side,
+called loudly for her.
+
+At length, the fair form, stretched in its coffin, met his view. In wild
+and mournful tones, he continued to utter her name. He was removed far
+from the room, but the shrill echo of his voice was still heard amid the
+funeral obsequies, pronouncing with frantic grief the name of his lost
+Mary. Ever afterwards, when the sound of the tolling bell met his ear,
+the fountains of memory were troubled, and the cry of "Mary! Mary!"
+mingled with the mournful knell, till it ceased.
+
+Since so many interesting properties are discovered in the inferior
+creation, where, perhaps, we least expected them, it is well to search
+for such traits of character as deserve our regard, and consider them as
+humble friends, that we may better do our duty to them, and please Him
+who has entrusted them to our protection.
+
+
+
+
+Butterfly in a School-Room.
+
+
+    Gay inmate of our studious room.
+      Adorn'd with nature's brightest dyes,
+    Whose gadding wing, and tissued plume,
+      Allure so many wandering eyes.
+
+    The breath of eve is gathering bleak,
+      And thou dost shrink beneath its power,
+    And faint, or famish'd, seem'st to seek
+      The essence from yon withering flower
+
+    Haste to thine own secluded cell,
+      And shield thee from the chilling blast,
+    And let the honied casket well
+      Supply a fresh and free repast.
+
+    Hast thou no home? Didst thou provide
+      No shelter from autumnal rain?
+    Hast thou no cheering board supplied
+      From all the treasures of the plain?
+
+    What wilt thou do 'neath wintry skies?
+      Behold! the charms of summer fade,
+    Thy friend, the labouring bee, was wise
+      Ere on their stalks the plants decay'd,
+
+    Frail insect! shivering 'mid the storm,
+      Thy season of delight is past,
+    And soon that gaudy, graceful form,
+      Shall stiffen on the whelming blast.
+
+    Companions dear! whose frequent glance
+      Marks yon fair creature's brilliant hue,
+    Methinks, its wing in frolic dance,
+      Doth speak in wisdom's lore to you:
+
+    Seek not to flutter, and to flaunt,
+      While a few years their courses roll,
+    But heed approaching winter's want,
+      And store the sweetness of the soul.
+
+
+
+
+A Brave Boy.
+
+
+There are ways in which boys may show true courage, without being
+forward and bold in contention. It often requires more to avoid it. To
+show forbearance when they are provoked, or to tell the whole truth when
+they have committed faults, are proofs of more lofty and high principle
+than to imitate the fighting animals, and repel force by force, or the
+fox-like ones, and practise cunning. To live at peace, may need more
+firmness than to quarrel; because one is to control our passions, and
+the other to indulge them.
+
+The bravest boy is he who rules himself, and does his duty without
+boasting. I have known some beautiful instances of this class of
+virtues, and will mention one that is now in my mind.
+
+A widow, who was the mother of several children, resided in a pleasant
+part of New England. She faithfully nurtured and instructed them, and
+one of her precepts was, that when they had any difficult duty to
+perform, they should ask strength from above. Her youngest was a boy of
+eight years old, active and intelligent. He was not only obedient to
+her, but attentive to his studies, and beloved by his instructors.
+
+One fine summer afternoon, when there was no school, he was walking on
+the banks of a river that beautified the scenery of his native place. He
+admired the silver stream as it sparkled in the sunbeams, and the rich
+verdure that clothed its banks. Suddenly, a large boy plunged in, as if
+for the purpose of bathing, though he did not divest himself of any part
+of his clothing. Soon, he struggled in distress, as if ready to sink.
+
+Ralph Edward, the son of the widow, had been taught to swim. Throwing
+off his boots and his little coat, he hastened to the relief of the
+drowning stranger. He found him nearly senseless, and though much larger
+than himself, and nearly twice his age, succeeded by great exertions in
+bringing him to the shore. There, he supported him against a bank, until
+he had thrown from his mouth a quantity of water, and was able to thank
+his benefactor. He confessed that he was ignorant of the art of
+swimming, but had a great desire to learn, and had no idea that the
+river was so deep and swift. When he was able to proceed on his way,
+Ralph Edward returned home. His head was giddy, and his breast throbbed
+with the efforts he had made He went to his little chamber, and throwing
+himself upon the bed, wept bitterly. His mother heard him moaning, and
+inquired the cause of his grief. He told her he could not forget the
+convulsed features of a half-drowned boy, and the pain he seemed to feel
+when he gasped for breath upon the bank. Then, in compliance with her
+request, he related all the circumstances.
+
+"My son, do you know that you have been in great danger? Have you never
+heard that the grasp of drowning persons is fatal?"
+
+"Oh, yes. But mother, what could I do? Should I stand still, and see him
+die? Had I waited for other help, he must have sunk to rise no more."
+
+"Was he your friend?"
+
+"I do not even know his name. I think he is a servant in some family not
+far off. I have seen him driving a cow to pasture, but never spoke to
+him until to-day."
+
+"How were you able to swim, and support a boy so much larger than
+yourself?"
+
+"Mother, I cannot say. I only know that I remember what you told us to
+do when we had any difficult duty to perform, and I begged for strength
+of our Father who is in Heaven."
+
+The mother comforted her child, and soothed his agitated nerves, and
+gave him her blessing. After that he slept sweetly and awoke refreshed.
+Trembling at the risk he had run, she still was thankful for the spirit
+that had moved him to do good to a stranger, and the piety that had made
+him mindful of the great Giver of strength and Hearer of prayer.
+
+She reflected with gratitude also, upon his humility. He did not say
+boastfully, "I have rescued a boy from the river, when he was ready to
+sink. He was larger than I, but I did it all alone. He is almost twice
+as old too, and does not even know how to keep himself up in the water,
+while I can swim as well and boldly as a man."
+
+No. He came home without alluding to the occurrence, as if it were a
+matter of course, to help those who were in need. He complained not of
+fatigue, though every nerve was strained and tremulous. He went silently
+to his own secluded room, and shed tears of pity at the remembrance of
+the struggles of the sufferer. The true greatness that prompted this
+forgetfulness of self, was as remarkable as the courage that snatched a
+fellow-creature from danger.
+
+
+
+
+May Morning.
+
+
+    May is here, with skies of blue,
+    Tuneful birds of varied hue,
+    Blossoms bright on plant and tree:
+    Ye, who love her smile of glee,
+    Leave the city's thronging streets,
+    Meet her in her green retreats,
+    And, with thrilling heart inhale
+    Perfumes from her balmy gale.
+
+    Come! for countless gifts she bears;
+    Take her cordial for your cares:
+    Cull the charms that never cloy,
+    Twine the wreaths of social joy,
+    And with liberal hand dispense
+    Blessings of benevolence:
+    For when Spring shall fade away,
+    And the year grow dim and gray,
+    These, with changeless warmth shall glow
+    Mid the hills of wintry snow,
+    And undying fragrance cast,
+    When the _Spring of life_ is past.
+
+
+
+
+The Huguenot Grandfather's Tale.
+
+
+It is doubtless known to my readers, that the Huguenots were French
+Protestants, who on account of religious persecution fled from their
+country. The Edict of Nantz was a law made by Henry IV. of France,
+allowing liberty of conscience, and safety to those who dissented from
+the faith of the Church of Rome, the established religion of the realm.
+This edict was repealed by Louis XIV. in 1685; and the Protestants, or
+Huguenots, as they were generally called, left their country in great
+numbers and sought refuge in foreign lands. Thousands found a peaceful
+home in this western world, and their descendants are among the most
+respected and honoured inhabitants of our happy country.
+
+Once, on a cold wintry evening, somewhat more than a century since, a
+bright light was seen streaming from the casement of a pleasant abode in
+Boston, casting cheerful radiance upon the snow-covered pavement.
+Within, by a blazing hearth, a group of children gathered around their
+mother, and the white-haired grandsire, singing with sweet voices, their
+evening hymn. Then, as the mother led away the little ones to their
+rest, the eldest, a boy of about twelve years old, drew his seat near
+the arm-chair of the aged man, and gazing affectionately on his mild,
+venerable countenance, said,
+
+"Please, dear grandfather, tell me another of your good stories about
+our ancestors."
+
+"So, I asked, in my boyhood, of our blessed grandmother, tales of olden
+times, sitting close at her feet, when the lamps were just lighted. Even
+now, I think I see her before me, with her silver locks, her brow but
+slightly wrinkled, and her eye beaming with a brilliance like youth, as
+she granted my request. My brothers and sisters loved and respected her,
+as a being of a superior order. Her memory of early scenes was clear and
+vivid, even in extreme age, when passing events made but a slight
+impression. I perceive that my own memory is assuming somewhat of the
+same character, and dwells with peculiar delight among the people and
+events of ancient times."
+
+"Those are exactly what I delight to hear. I love the conversation of
+those who can tell what happened long before I was born. I will listen
+most attentively to whatever you shall be pleased to relate."
+
+"I shall tell you of my grandfather's first visit to Paris. He was then
+about two years older than yourself, and was taken thither by his
+father, who held a military command under Lord Teligny, who, you
+remember to have seen in history, was son-in-law to the great Admiral
+Coligny. They were summoned to attend and take part in the public
+demonstrations of joy which marked the nuptials of young Henry of
+Navarre, and the princess Margaret. This was in the spring of 1572. The
+Queen of Navarre, with her son and suite, had just arrived, and were
+received with great pomp and festivity. Charles IX. was at that time
+king of France. He was a treacherous, vacillating character, and ruled
+by his mother, Catharine de Medicis, who was far more wicked than
+himself. To further her own plots, she induced him to treat the
+Protestant noblemen with marked attention. He complimented the manly
+beauty of De Teligny, the dignified deportment of the Baron de Rosny,
+and the philosophy of the Count de la Rochefaucault. He was fond of
+being seen walking arm in arm with the great Admiral Coligny, whom he
+often addressed by the title of "_Mon Pere_." Among the gallant,
+high-spirited Huguenots of rank, who dared and did so much for
+conscience' sake, Coligny was at that period the most distinguished.
+
+His whole life was marked by decided and habitual piety. Prayers, and
+the chanted praise of psalms, arose up twice a day from his household.
+The officers both of France and Germany, who often surrounded his
+hospitable table, were the witnesses of his humble devotion. For as soon
+as the cloth was removed, he rose up, with all who were present, and if
+there was no minister there, rendered himself, earnest thanks to
+Almighty God. The sacred worship which he enjoyed in the quiet of his
+family, he endeavoured as far as possible to establish in the camp and
+in the army.
+
+Many of the French nobles followed under their own roofs the religious
+example of Coligny. For he was ever exhorting and impressing on them the
+importance of daily, practical piety, saying that it was not enough that
+the father of a family should himself lead a holy life, unless he led
+and induced his household to follow his footsteps and imitate his
+example."
+
+"Was Jane, Queen of Navarre, a Protestant?"
+
+"Yes, and distinguished by the most devoted piety. She had not been long
+in Paris, ere she was seized with mortal sickness. Some suspected it to
+be the effect of poison, administered by Catharine, that this formidable
+protector of the Protestants might be out of the way, ere her plot to
+destroy them was hazarded. When the Queen of Navarre saw that her end
+drew nigh, she called her son to her bedside, and charged him solemnly
+to maintain the true religion, to take a tender care of the education of
+his sister, to avoid the society of vicious persons, and not to suffer
+his soul to be diverted from duty, by the empty pleasures of the world.
+With patience and even cheerful serenity of countenance, she endured the
+pains of her disease, and to her mourning friends said, "I pray you not
+to weep for me. God by this sickness calleth me to the enjoyment of a
+better life." It was on the 9th of June, 1572, that she departed, with
+the prayer of faith on her lips, and the benignity of an angel."
+
+"Was your grandfather in Paris at the time of the marriage of Henry and
+Margaret?"
+
+"He was, and attentively observed the splendid scene. The 18th of August
+was appointed for the nuptial ceremony. An ample pavilion was erected
+opposite to the great church of Notre Dame. It was magnificently covered
+with cloth of gold. The concourse of spectators was immense, and their
+shouts seemed to rend the sky, as the youthful pair appeared in their
+royal garments. When Henry, bowing almost to the feet of his beautiful
+bride, took from his brow the coronet of Navarre, the ladies admired his
+gracefulness, and the freshness of his auburn hair, which inclining to
+red, curled richly around his noble forehead. The princess had a highly
+brilliant complexion, and was decorated with a profusion of splendid
+jewels.
+
+The Cardinal of Bourbon received their vows. There seemed some degree of
+displeasure to curl his haughty lip. Probably he was dissatisfied that
+all the ceremonies of the Romish church were not observed. For as the
+prince was a Protestant, and the princess Catholic, the solemnities were
+of a mixed nature, accommodated to both. It had been settled in the
+marriage contract, that neither party should interfere with the other,
+in the exercise of their different religions. To give public proof of
+this, as soon as the nuptial ceremony was performed, the bride left the
+pavilion to attend mass, and the bridegroom to hear the sermon of a
+Protestant divine. Acclamations and music from countless instruments
+loudly resounded, when the royal couple again appeared, and proceeded
+together to the magnificent bridal banquet. Charles presented his sister
+with 100,000 crowns for her dower, and in the festivities which
+succeeded the marriage, who could have foreseen the dreadful massacre of
+St. Bartholomew?"
+
+"I have read in my history of that frightful scene. Dear Grandfather,
+how soon did it follow the nuptials which you have described?"
+
+"Less than a week intervened. The ringing of the bells for morning
+prayers, at three o'clock, on Sunday, August 24th, was the signal for
+the Catholics to rush forth and murder the Protestants. The holy Sabbath
+dawned in peace. The matin-bell, calling the devout to worship a God of
+mercy, was heard. Man came forth to shed the blood of his unsuspecting
+brother. The work of destruction began in many parts of the city, at the
+same moment. Tumult and shrieks and uproar increased, until they
+deepened into a terrible and universal groan. The streets were filled
+with infuriated soldiers, and almost every habitation of the Huguenots
+became a slaughter-house. Infants were transfixed on pikes, and women
+precipitated themselves from high windows and battlements, that they
+might die without outrage. Thirty thousand fell victims in this horrible
+massacre, which extending itself from Paris to the provinces, was not
+satiated until more than twice that number had been sacrificed."
+
+"What became of your grandfather during this scene of horror?"
+
+"At the commencement of the tumult, his father hastily armed himself,
+and supposing it some temporary disturbance, went forth to aid in
+quelling it, commanding him to remain in the house. He obeyed until he
+was no longer able to endure the tortures of suspense, and then rushed
+out in search of a father whom he was never more to behold. Hasting to
+the quarters of Lord Teligny, his friend and benefactor, he found him
+mortally wounded, and faintly repeating the names of his wife and
+children. He then flew to the Hotel de St. Pierre, where Admiral Coligny
+lodged. But his headless trunk was precipitated from the window, and
+dragged onward by blood-smeared men, with faces scarcely human.
+
+He had been wounded previous to the massacre. On Friday, the 22nd, he
+was coming from the Louvre, with a group of noblemen. He walked slowly,
+reading a petition which had been presented him. As he passed the
+cloister of St. Germain, he was shot by an arquebus loaded with three
+balls. His left arm was deeply wounded, and the fore-finger of his right
+hand carried away. No trace of the assassin, who had been employed by
+the Duke of Guise, could be found, though the friends of the Admiral
+made persevering search.
+
+As the surgeon on examination feared that the copper balls were
+poisoned, this illustrious man supposed that his hour had come, and
+turning to his lamenting friends, said,
+
+"Why do you weep? For myself, I am honoured to receive these wounds, for
+the holy cause of my God. Pray him to strengthen me."
+
+The massacre commenced while it was yet dark, on Sunday morning, and the
+Duke of Guise, dreading lest Coligny, notwithstanding his injuries,
+should escape, and by his courage and influence reanimate the
+Protestants, hastened to his lodgings with three hundred soldiers.
+Knocking at the outer gate, they demanded admission in the name of the
+king. The gentleman who opened it, fell, stabbed to the heart.
+
+The wounded Admiral, in his apartment, was engaged in prayer with a
+minister who attended him. A terrified servant rushed in, exclaiming,
+
+"My Lord, the inner gate is forced. We have no means of resisting."
+
+"It is long since," replied Coligny, calmly, "that I prepared myself to
+die. Save yourselves all who can. Me, you cannot defend. I commend my
+soul to the mercy of God."
+
+He arose from his bed, and being unable to stand upright, on account of
+his wounds, supported himself with his back against the wall. The first
+who burst into his chamber was a grim German, servant to the Duke of
+Guise.
+
+"Are you the Admiral?"
+
+"Yes. I am he."
+
+And the illustrious man, fixing his eyes without emotion on the naked
+sword of his murderer, said, with the dignity of a Christian,
+
+"Young man! you ought to respect my age and infirmities."
+
+The answer of the assassin was to plunge his weapon deep in that noble
+bosom. The Duke of Guise traversed the court below, with breathless
+impatience. To his fierce spirit, every moment seemed an age.
+
+"Is the work done?" he asked.
+
+"It is finished, my Lord!"
+
+He demanded to see it, with his own eyes. They raised the body of the
+Admiral to cast it down to him. Still faintly respiring, it seemed to
+cling to the casement.
+
+At length, the ruthless murderers precipitated it into the court-yard.
+Guise wiped with his handkerchief the face suffused with blood, and
+gazing intensely upon it by the flaring lamps, exclaimed,
+
+"It is the man."
+
+Rushing into the streets, he bade, with hoarse cries, the work of death
+to proceed, in the name of the king.
+
+While our ancestor was hurrying in amazement and terror from place to
+place, he met a boy of nearly his own age, whose placid countenance and
+unmoved deportment strongly contrasted with the surrounding horrors. Two
+soldiers apparently had him in charge, shouting "_To mass! to mass!_"
+while he, neither in compliance nor opposition, calmly continued his
+course, until they found some more conspicuous object of barbarity, and
+released him from their grasp. This proved to be Maximilian Bethune,
+afterwards the great Duke of Sully, prime minister of Henry IV., who by
+a wonderful mixture of prudence and firmness, preserved a life which was
+to be of such value to the realm. He was at this time making his way
+through the infuriated mob, to the College of Burgundy, where in the
+friendship of its principal, La Faye, he found protection and safety."
+
+"Please not to forget what befell our relative."
+
+It was in vain that he attempted to imitate this example of
+self-command. Distracted with fear for his father, he searched for him
+in scenes of the utmost danger, wildly repeating his name. A soldier
+raised over his head a sword dripping with blood. Ere it fell, a man in
+a black habit took his arm through his, and with some exertion of
+strength led him onward. They entered less populous streets, where
+carnage seemed not to have extended, before he perfectly recovered his
+recollection. Then he would have disengaged himself, but his arm was
+detained, as strongly as if it were pinioned. "Let me seek my father!"
+he exclaimed. "Be silent!" said his conductor, with a voice of power
+that made him tremble. At length he knocked at the massive gate of a
+monastery. The porter admitted them, and they passed to an inner cell.
+Affected by his passionate bursts of grief, and exclamations of 'Father,
+dear father!' his protector said, 'Thank God, my son, that thy own life
+is saved. I ventured forth amid scenes of horror, hoping to bring to
+this refuge a brother, whom I loved as my own soul. I found him lifeless
+and mangled. Thou wert near, and methought thou didst resemble him. Thy
+voice had his very tone, as it cried, 'Father, father!' My heart yearned
+to be as a father to thee. And I have led thee hither through blood and
+death. Poor child, be comforted, and lift up thy soul to God.'"
+
+"Was it not very strange, that a Catholic should be so good?"
+
+"There are good men among every sect of Christians, my child. We should
+never condemn those who differ from us in opinion, if their lives are
+according to the Gospel. This ecclesiastic was a man of true
+benevolence. Nothing could exceed his kindness to him whose life he had
+saved. It was ascertained that he was not only fatherless but an orphan,
+for the work of destruction, extending itself into many parts of the
+kingdom, involved his family in its wreck. The greatest attention was
+paid to his education, and his patron instructed him in the sciences,
+and particularly from the study of history he taught him the emptiness
+of glory without virtue, and the changeful nature of earthly good. He
+made him the companion of his walks, and by the innocent and beautiful
+things of nature, sought to win him from that melancholy which is so
+corrosive to intellect, and so fatal to peace. He permitted him to take
+part in his works of charity, and to stand with him by the beds of the
+sick and dying, that he might witness the power of that piety which
+upholds when flesh and heart fainteth.
+
+During his residence here, the death of Charles IX. took place. He was a
+king in whom his people and even his nearest friends had no confidence.
+After the savage massacre of St. Bartholomew, which was conducted under
+his auspices, he had neither satisfaction nor repose. He had always a
+flush and fierceness upon his countenance, which it had never before
+worn. Conscience haunted him with a sense of guilt, and he could obtain
+no quiet sleep. He seemed to be surrounded by vague and nameless
+terrors. He fancied that he heard groans in the air, and suffered a
+strange sickness which forced blood from all the pores of his body.
+
+He was attended in his illness by a faithful old nurse, to whom,
+notwithstanding she was a Huguenot, he affectionately trusted. One who
+has described the close of his life, says, that two nights before his
+death, she was sitting near him on a chest, almost overcome with the
+drowsiness of fatigue. She was aroused by hearing the king bitterly moan
+and weep. As she softly approached his bed, he exclaimed, through sighs
+and sobs, so interrupting his voice that it was difficult to understand
+him,
+
+"Ah! my nurse, my dear nurse, what blood! what murders! Alas! what evil
+counsels have I followed! Oh my God! pardon me! and have mercy on me, if
+thou canst. What shall I do? I am lost! I see it but too well."
+
+The pitying nurse answered with tears.
+
+"Sire! let the guilt rest on those who counselled you to it. For if you
+consented not in your heart to those murders, and are repentant, trust
+that God will not charge them to you, but will cover them with the
+mantle of his Son's great love, to whom alone you should turn."
+
+He listened mournfully to her words, and taking from her hand a
+handkerchief, his own being saturated with tears, gave a sign that she
+should retire, and take a little rest.
+
+His attachment to this pious nurse was strongly contrasted with his
+shrinking aversion whenever his mother approached him. He viewed her as
+the instigator to that horrible massacre which troubled his conscience,
+and her presence greatly distressed him. This miserable monarch died on
+the 30th of May, 1574, at the age of 23, having sinned much and suffered
+much, though his years were few.
+
+He was succeeded by his brother Henry III., against whom, and Catharine,
+the Queen-mother, three powerful armies were opposed, one led by the
+King of Navarre, one by the Prince of Conde, and the other by the Duke
+of Anjou. The tidings of these civil wars penetrated into the seclusion
+of the religious house where my grandfather had already passed three
+years in quiet study. They kept alive the martial spirit which he
+inherited, and quickened his desire to partake in their tumultuous
+scenes. At length he communicated to his patron his discontentment with
+a life of inaction, and his irrepressible wish to mingle again with the
+world. Unusual paleness settled on the brow of the venerable man, as he
+replied,
+
+"I have long seen that thy heart was not in these quiet shades, and I
+have lamented it. Yet thus it is with the young: they will not be wise
+from the experience of others. They must feel with their own feet, the
+thorns in the path of pleasure. They must grasp with their own hand, the
+sharp briers that cling around the objects of their ambition. They must
+come trusting to the world's broken cisterns, find the dregs from her
+cup cleaving in bitterness to their lip, and feel her in their bosom,
+ere they will believe."
+
+The youth enlarged with emotion on his gratitude to his benefactor. He
+mentioned the efforts he had made to comply with his desires, and lead a
+life of contemplative piety, but that these efforts were overpowered by
+an impulse to mingle in more active pursuits, and to visit the home of
+his ancestors.
+
+"Go, then, my son, and still the wild throbbings of thy heart over the
+silent beds of those who wake no more till the resurrection morn. Think
+not that I have read thy nature slightly, or with a careless glance. The
+spirit of a warrior slumbers there. Thou dost long to mix in the battle.
+I have marked, in thy musings, the lightning of thine eye shoot forth,
+as if thou hadst forgotten Him who said: 'Vengeance is mine.' Would that
+thou hadst loved peace. Go; yet remember, that 'he who taketh the sword
+shall perish by the sword.' As for me, my path on earth is short, or I
+should more deeply mourn thy departure. Thou hast been but too dear to
+me; and when thou art gone, my spirit shall cast from its wings the last
+cumbrance of earthly love."
+
+He gave him his benediction with great tenderness and solemnity, and the
+parting was tearful and affectionate. But the young traveller soon
+dismissed his sorrow, for the cheering influence of the charms of
+nature, and the gladness of liberty.
+
+The genial season of spring diffused universal beauty. The vales spread
+out their green mantles to catch the showers of blossoms, with which
+every breeze covered them. Luxuriant vines lifted up their fragrant
+coronets. Young lambs playfully cropped the tender leaves. Quiet kids
+stood ruminating by the clear streams. Music was in all the branches.
+The father-bird cheered his companion, who, patient on her nest, brooded
+their future hopes.
+
+"Surely," thought he, "the peasant is the most happy of men, dwelling in
+the midst of the innocence and beauty of creation."
+
+Then, with the inconsistency natural to youth, he would extol the life
+of the soldier, its energy, hardihood, and contempt of danger;
+forgetting that, in this preference of war, he was applauding the
+science of all others the most hostile to nature and to man.
+
+In the midst of such reflections he reached the spot of his nativity.
+The home of his ancestors was in the possession of others, a new and
+lordly race. Strange eyes looked upon him, where the voice of his
+parents was wont to welcome his returning steps with delight. He could
+not endure the grief in which none participated, and this solitude among
+scenes which his childhood loved. He sought to shake off at once his
+sorrow and his loneliness, and enlisted as a volunteer in the Protestant
+army. He flattered himself that religion dictated the measure: yet
+sometimes, in a sleepless hour, the monition of his distant benefactor
+would come mournfully, "He that taketh the sword shall perish by the
+sword." His first exploit in arms was at the siege of Ville-Franche, in
+Perigord, in the year 1576. He continued to follow the fortunes of the
+King of Navarre, and to endure without shrinking the dangers and
+privations of a soldier, with scarcely any intervals of peaceful life,
+until the battle of Coutras, where he fell, covered with wounds. This
+severe combat took place on the morning of October 20th, 1587. There,
+the King of Navarre, who, you remember, was afterwards Henry the Great,
+of France, distinguished himself by a daring courage. He first forced
+the ranks of the enemy. He seized several prisoners with his own hand.
+Conspicuous by the plume of white feathers in his lofty helmet, he was
+continually singled out as a mark, and yet escaped uninjured. Perceiving
+the Prince of Conde and the Count de Soissons, in the most exposed parts
+of the field, he exclaimed, 'All that I shall say to you, is, that you
+are of the house of Bourbon, and please God, I will show you that I am
+your elder brother.' The victory of the Protestants was complete. The
+contest lasted scarcely an hour, yet 5000 of their opponents were left
+dead upon the field. They were led on by the Duke de Joyeuse, who with
+his haughty brother, St. Sauveur, were drawn lifeless from among heaps
+of slain, their brows still fierce and frowning, as if they hated that
+death which could thus level all distinctions. I have mentioned that our
+ancestor fell in this engagement. He was not thirty years old, and left
+a wife and infant son, to mourn his untimely departure."
+
+"Is it then from our grandmother that you learned all the circumstances
+of his story?"
+
+"All these and many more. She was never weary of relating the changes of
+his life, and the sorrows of her early widowhood. Deeply did she impress
+on the mind of her son, and of his offspring, the evils of war, and the
+blessings of peaceful Christianity. Under his roof she dwelt, cherished
+and venerated, till the children of the third generation rose up to call
+her blessed. Never shall I forget with what emotions of grief and
+reverence he laid his hand upon her dying eyes, and wept at her tomb.
+The piety and love of peace which she had early instilled into his
+heart, rendered his home the abode of tranquillity, and domestic
+happiness. His industry, and correct judgment restored competence to a
+family, which the desolations of war had impoverished, and almost
+annihilated. Our paternal residence, even now, seems to rise up before
+me, visible and distinct, as in a picture. Uniting simplicity with
+comfort, it stood on a gentle slope of ground. In front, a row of
+chestnuts reared a canopy of lofty shade. Here the traveller sometimes
+rested, refreshing himself with the water of a little fountain, which,
+clear as crystal, oozed into a rustic limestone reservoir. In the rear
+of our residence, rose a hill where our goats found herbage. There they
+might sometimes be seen, maintaining so slight a footing on projecting
+cliffs, that they seemed to hang suspended by the mouth from the slight
+branch they were cropping. The tall poplars, which were interspersed
+among the foliage, conveyed to us the pensive murmur of approaching
+storms, and around their trunks, mossy seats were constructed, where we
+sometimes sat, watching the chequered rays of the moon, and singing our
+simple provincial melodies. Stretching at the foot of this hill, was the
+small domain whence we drew our subsistence. Diligence and economy made
+it fully equal to our wants, and to the claims of charity. Over the
+roots of the filbert, fig, and mulberry, crept the prolific melon. The
+gourd, supporting itself by their trunks, lifted its yellow globes into
+the air like orbs of gold, while still higher rose the aspiring vine,
+filling its glowing clusters for the wine-press. Our fields of wheat
+gave us bread, and the bearded oat rewarded the faithful animal that
+gathered in our harvest. Bees, hastening with busy hum to their
+sheltered cells, provided the luxury of our evening repast. The olive
+yielded us its treasures, and furnished an emblem of the peace that
+pervaded our abode. A genial soil made our labours light, and correct
+principles converted those labours into happiness. Our parents early
+taught their large family of twelve children, that indolence was but
+another name for vice and disgrace; that he, who for his subsistence
+rendered no return of usefulness, was unjust to society, and disobedient
+to God. So our industry commenced in infancy. In our hive there were no
+drones. We early began to look with pity on those whose parents
+neglected to teach them that well-directed industry was bliss. Among us
+there were no servants. With the first beams of morning, the band of
+brothers were seen cheerfully entering on their allotted employments.
+Some broke the surface of the earth, others strowed seeds or kernels of
+fruits, others removed the weeds which threatened to impede the harvest.
+By the same hands was our vintage tended, and our grain gathered into
+the garner. Our sisters wrought the flax which we cultivated, and
+changed the fleece of our flocks into a wardrobe for winter. They
+refreshed us after our toil with cakes flavoured with honey, and with
+cheeses, rivalling in delicacy those of Parma. They arranged in tasteful
+baskets of their own construction, fresh fruits or aromatic herbs, or
+rich flowers for the market. They delighted sometimes to mingle in our
+severer labours; and when we saw the unwonted exertion heightening the
+bloom of their cheeks, or placed in their hair the half-blown wild rose,
+to us, who had seen nothing more fair, they were perfect in grace and
+beauty. Sometimes at twilight, or beneath the soft evening air of
+summer, we mingled in the dance, to the music of our flute and viol. Our
+parents and our grandmother seated near, enjoyed the pastime, and spoke
+of their own youth, and of the goodness of the Almighty Sire. Often,
+assembled in our pleasant parlour, each read in turn to the listening
+auditory, histories of what man has been, or fictitious representations
+of what he might be, from the pages of the moral painter or the poet.
+The younger ones received regular lessons in the rudiments of education,
+and the elder ones, in succession, devoted a stated portion of each day
+to the pursuit of higher studies, under the direction of their parents.
+When the family circle convened in the evening, he was the happiest who
+could bring the greatest amount of useful and interesting information to
+the general stock. The acquisition of knowledge, which to indolent minds
+is so irksome, was to us a delightful recreation from severer labours.
+The exercise which gave us physical vigour, seemed also to impart
+intellectual energy. The application to which we were inured gave us the
+more entire control of our mental powers, while the almost unvaried
+health that we enjoyed preserved elasticity of spirits, and made all our
+pleasures more sweet. Such was our mode of life, that we were almost
+insensible to inconvenience from the slight changes of the seasons. In
+any temporary indisposition or casualty, our mother was our ministering
+angel. Her acquaintance with the powers of the medicinal plants, that
+filled her favourite part of the garden, and still more, her intimate
+knowledge of the little diversities in our constitutions, usually
+produced a favourable result. She also perfectly understood the slight
+shades in our disposition and character, and by thus tracing the springs
+of action to their minuter sources, advanced with more certainty to the
+good ends of education. Mingled with her love, was a dignity, a decision
+that commanded our respect. Without this, the parental relation loses
+its influence, and sacrifices that attribute of authority with which it
+was invested by the Eternal. Piety was taught us by the example of our
+parents. We were early led to consider the morning and evening orison
+and the Sabbath, as periods in which we were invited to mingle our
+thoughts with angels; and that he who was negligent or indifferent to
+them, forfeited one of the highest privileges of his nature.
+
+Thus happy was our domestic government. It mingled the pastoral and
+patriarchal features. I have never seen any system more favourable to
+individual improvement, and the order, harmony, and prosperity of the
+whole.
+
+But I am forgetting, dear child, that you must be wearied with my
+wandering tale and numerous reflections. It is so pleasant to recall the
+days of childhood, and the images of my parents and brothers and
+sisters, that I may have taken an old man's privilege too freely, and
+talked beyond your patience."
+
+"How much I am indebted to you, my dear grandfather, for your kind
+evening's entertainment. I hope I shall profit from the moral of your
+story, as well as from the pleasure of listening to it. I trust I shall
+learn to love peace, and industry, and piety."
+
+"Strive to do so, my dear boy, and ask God's help, and you will be sure
+to be happy. Obey your parents, and respect all who are wiser and better
+than yourself, whether rich or poor. This will lay the foundation of
+that virtue and subordination to the laws of the land, which make a good
+citizen.
+
+Should you live to be old, like me, you will view objects differently
+from what you do now. You will stand upon an isthmus, between the
+_things that have been, and the things that are_. On one hand, will come
+up the waves of memory, bold and strong; on the other, the little
+billows of hope, like such bubbles as children play with. Experience
+will be there, gathering riches even from rocks and quicksands. Then,
+when you look back, like me, and find your dear parents gone, you will
+wish that you might for one moment recall them from the grave, to render
+them your undying offering of gratitude, not for that indulgence which
+blinded their eye to your faults, and gave you the weak gratification of
+an hour, perhaps, at the expense of an eternity, but for that salutary
+discipline which uprooted error, established good habits, and taught
+that 'fear of God which maketh wise unto salvation.'"
+
+
+
+
+The Old Watch.
+
+
+    My Father's watch! Thy face is dear,
+      And still thou speak'st to me
+    The self-same words that met my ear,
+    When in old times of joyous cheer
+      I gladly climb'd his knee.
+
+    For oft as to his side I clung,
+      Thou wert mine own to hold,
+    Though to my simple mind, thy tongue
+    Uttering "_tick, tick_", to old and young
+      Seem'd mystery untold.
+
+    And still thy wondrous movements too
+      Amaz'd my gazing eye,
+    Thy hands that to their purpose true
+    Their undeclining circles drew,
+      Were magic strange and high.
+
+    But thou from days of toil and care,
+      That manhood's powers employ,
+    Didst duly point him home to share
+    The garden-walk, the fireside chair,
+      The feast of social joy.
+
+    When those whom most he loved were nigh,
+      And with beguiling flight,
+    The downy-pinioned hours swept by,
+    Thou, with a calm, unswerving eye
+      Didst note their numbers right.
+
+    And he, who knew so well to test
+      Of time, the fleeting prize,
+    Did on thy meek monitions rest
+    And take their wisdom to his breast,
+      And gird him for the skies.
+
+    But now, no more serenely sweet
+      He turns to thee for aid,
+    Yet still thy bloodless heart doth beat.
+    Though summon'd to a lone retreat
+      His own in dust is laid.
+
+    My Father's Friend! what memories bless'd
+      Thy lingering accents wake,
+    Here, in my sacred casket rest,
+    Or slumber on my filial breast,
+      Most honour'd for his sake.
+
+
+
+
+Entertaining Books.
+
+
+The age in which we live abounds with entertaining books. Stories of
+every description, some of them containing good lessons, are exceedingly
+numerous. Those of the better class furnish food for fancy and feeling.
+
+Fiction has its peculiar attractions, and so has truth. Imagination can
+scarcely devise more strange events, more striking characters, or more
+romantic results, than occur on the pages of history. The entertainment
+derived from true books is the most valuable, because it is the most
+worthy of being remembered. The mind rests upon it with satisfaction. It
+accords with its native tastes. The child as soon as it can speak, says,
+"Please to tell me a _true_ story." Those who are most familiar with
+unfolding infancy, agree, that incidents simplified from the Scriptures,
+delight it, though they may be frequently repeated.
+
+So, from the great storehouse of history, the young may entertain and
+enrich themselves at the same time. By extending their acquaintance
+through past ages and distant nations, the powers of thought expand
+themselves, an acquaintance with illustrious characters is formed, and
+knowledge gained which will be profitable through life, both for
+reflection and conversation.
+
+Some have objected, that a wide range of history may give the young
+mind a premature introduction to the vices and follies that disgrace
+mankind. Yet thus to study them on the map of man, and to form a correct
+opinion of good and evil, and to deepen the love of virtue, and the
+hatred of vice, by the force of selected examples, might prepare the
+young better to understand character, and resist temptation, in the
+actual struggle of life. The entertainments of history may be as safe as
+those of fiction, and more salutary. If they sometimes reveal the
+whirlpools of ambition or the abysses of cruelty, they change the scene,
+and present the quiet waters of peace fertilizing the valleys, and the
+pure rose of virtue blooming in the wilderness. Examples of true
+greatness, generosity, and piety, if less frequent than those of an
+opposite nature, borrow force from contrast, and may therefore make a
+deeper impression, and awaken a stronger desire of imitation.
+
+The entertainments of history aid in acquiring a knowledge of human
+nature. We there see what man has been from the beginning, and what
+motives or temptations have moved him to good or to evil. Great care
+should be taken to form a correct judgment, and to measure by a true
+standard of excellence those whom the world has called illustrious.
+
+Especially, should opinions be cautiously formed, of those whose fame
+rests only upon military exploits. Though the pride, cruelty, and
+revenge, that stain many of those whom the Old World applauded as
+heroes, are in a measure palliated because they were heathen, still _we_
+are bound to judge of right and wrong, as Christians. When we think of
+the misery, mourning, and death, that marked their course upon the
+earth, we cannot but wonder by what rule of equity, "_one_ murder should
+make a _villain_, and _many, a hero_!"
+
+To purchase a single conquest, how many eyes have wept, how many bosoms
+been pierced, how many hearts broken. If victories, and triumphs, and
+trophies, dazzle the eye, look at their dark reverse: torrents of blood
+flowing, widows and orphans plunged in despair, throngs of unprepared
+souls driven into the presence of their Maker.
+
+The patriotism that dares danger for the preservation of liberty, the
+firmness that repels the encroachments of tyranny, the courage that
+protects those whose lives are entrusted to its care, differ from the
+ambition that is willing to build its glory on contention, suffering,
+and death. This spirit is at war with His precepts, at whose birth the
+harps of angels breathed the song of "Peace on earth, and good-will to
+men."
+
+History may be read by the young with a resolution of transcribing into
+their own character, whatever it exhibits that is "just, lovely, and of
+good report." Thus will its pages not only afford rational
+entertainment, but be subservient to usefulness and piety in this life,
+and to the happiness of that which is to come.
+
+
+
+
+The New Year.
+
+
+    Who, with smiles, and wishes fair,
+    Through drifted snows and branches bare,
+    Comes, and liberal-handed brings
+    Countless gifts, and pleasant things,
+    Many a cake, and many a kiss,
+    Gilded toys, and sports of bliss,
+    Pictured books, with covers gay:
+    Who thus crowns our holiday?
+    While the sleigh-bells' merry peal
+    Rings, and glides the skater's heel?
+              The glad New Year.
+
+    Who, a tablet in his breast
+    Hides, with characters impress'd,
+    Mystic signs, and tints that show
+    Chance, and change of joy and woe,
+    Wreaths of hope in darkness laid
+    Boasted wealth a winged shade,
+    Brows that fade in youthful bloom,
+    Empty cradle, open tomb:
+    Who, alas! such course shall tread
+    Ere his farewell words are said?
+              The sad New Year.
+
+    Who, of those that never stray
+    Wilfully, from Duty's way,
+    Seek for knowledge, prize the truth,
+    Wisdom gain in early youth,
+    With a pure, and peaceful mind
+    Live in love with all mankind,
+    And a Saviour's precepts dear,
+    Treasure in His holy fear:
+    Who, of such leaves record high
+    On the pages of the sky?
+              The bless'd New Year.
+
+
+
+
+Cyrus.
+
+
+Cyrus is among the most interesting characters described in ancient
+history. He seemed fitted by nature, as well as by education, for the
+exalted sphere that was allotted him. He is usually considered as the
+founder of the Persian empire, and was born about 600 years before the
+Christian era. He was beautiful in person, and still more admirable for
+the amiable qualities of his mind. His early training inured him to
+study, the endurance of fatigue, and the control of his appetites and
+passions. In his first twelve years of life, he was said to surpass all
+of his own age in knowledge, and a frank, noble dignity of carriage.
+
+At this early period, he was sent to the court of his grandfather,
+Astyages, the Median king, where he remained for five years. There, the
+temptations of luxury and self-indulgence, by which he was surrounded,
+had no power to draw him from temperance and simplicity. He was ever
+anxious to make peace between those who differed, and to obtain pardon
+for such as had offended. So gentle, generous, and beneficent was he, as
+to become the idol of the people among whom he dwelt.
+
+In his expedition into Assyria with his father, though still but a
+youth, he discovered great judgment, courage, and presence of mind.
+Military talents and skill, were in those times held essential to every
+illustrious man, and these he eminently possessed. After his conquest of
+Babylon and marriage with a Median princess, three kingdoms were united
+under his sway: Persia, Media, and Assyria. When he was peacefully
+settled in his great empire, he busied himself with framing laws for its
+prosperity and repose. "For a king," said he, "should be the shepherd of
+his people, and exercise vigilance and care over his flock."
+
+This sentiment reminds us of the prophecy of Isaiah, uttered more than a
+century before the birth of this prince, and 170 years before the fall
+of Babylon, which it also predicts: "That saith of Cyrus, he is my
+shepherd, and shall perform all my pleasure."
+
+Prosperity crowned his efforts for the good of his people; and unbroken
+health, the reward of temperance and tranquillity of spirit, enabled him
+to persevere in these efforts. Yet he kept in his secret heart, a fear,
+founded on the changes of this mortal life, and the frailty of man,
+which restrained all pride, and kept him as humble as he was active and
+powerful. Of him it might have been said, as it was of our own
+Washington, that true merit was the foundation of his greatness.
+
+Therefore, he affected no self-importance, but was affable to all, and
+repaid by cordial attachment. Cicero asserts that during the whole
+period of his reign, he was never heard to speak a rough or angry word.
+Xenophon speaks of him, as exhibiting the "model of a perfect
+government." Herodotus modifies this praise, and charges him with some
+faults. But the most exalted characters are subject to error, and the
+purest may be misunderstood or misrepresented. Even patriarchs,
+prophets, and apostles, have taught us by their own failings, the
+infirmity of our nature, and we should not require or expect perfection
+in others, until we are able to give an example of it ourselves.
+
+When Cyrus approached death, he called around him his children and chief
+officers, gave them solemn and excellent advice by which to regulate
+their future conduct, and, thanking Heaven for all its blessings, calmly
+resigned his breath.
+
+Cambyses, his successor, supplied mournful proof of the contrast that
+may exist between the son and the father. He was barbarous both at home
+and abroad, and put to death his own brother, from malignant envy,
+because he was able to shoot with a larger bow than himself. We will
+turn from the contemplation of such wickedness, to some of the last
+words of the great Cyrus to his children, which are here presented in a
+poetical garb:
+
+    Behold, I die! Restore my form
+    To dust, to darkness, and the worm:
+    For from the earth it first arose.
+    And there, at last, it finds repose.
+
+          Yet when this breath forsakes the clay,
+    Think ye the spirit shall decay?
+    No, no, my sons! Its mystic flight
+    Hath ever mock'd your keenest sight,
+    Even when it deign'd with mortal care
+    This prison of the flesh to share:
+    So, when stern Death my frame shall blot,
+    It lives, though you perceive it not.
+
+        Believe you trace through yonder sky
+    Your disembodied father's eye,
+    And be your motives pure and high:
+    But dread the ages yet unborn
+    Who stamp your deeds with praise or scorn:
+    Dread more than all, the Powers who seal
+    That sentence, man can ne'er repeal.
+
+
+
+
+Rome and its Rulers.
+
+
+The magnificent city of Rome was at first a rude hamlet of ruder people.
+Its earliest buildings were upon the Palatine Hill, near the Tiber. In
+process of time, it extended itself over the six adjacent eminences.
+Hence the name that it sometimes bears of the "seven-hilled city."
+
+Two brothers, Romulus and Remus, were its founders, 752 years before the
+birth of Christ. They were twins, and trained up in the humble and hardy
+habits of a shepherd's life. But from feeding their peaceful flocks they
+aspired to rule men.
+
+Romulus reared a wall around a portion of the new settlement, in which
+he took pride. Remus, in sport, or contempt, jumped over it, saying that
+he had given proof it would afford no protection against invaders.
+Romulus, forgetting the love he should have borne to his twin-brother,
+in a transport of rage struck him dead upon the spot. Thus, to the first
+king of Rome, as to the first-born of Eden, might have been said, "The
+voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto thee from the ground." He who
+gave his own name to the Mistress of the World, left that name stained
+with the crime of fratricide.
+
+The kings of Rome were the same in number as the hills on which she
+seated herself. The seventh, and last, was Tarquinius Superbus. After
+the abolition of the royal sway she had various forms of government.
+Sometimes her rulers bore the title of Consuls, Dictators, Tribunes,
+Ediles, and Questors. Then the supreme power was vested in Emperors, of
+whom there were fifty-five. Some of these were fearful examples of every
+vice. The excess of luxurious indulgence and pitiless cruelty darken
+their names in history.
+
+Among this mass of shameless rulers, five appeared in regular
+succession, who, by their comparatively virtuous course, have obtained
+the honourable distinction of the "good Emperors." The first of this
+line was Nerva, who began his reign in the year 96 after the Christian
+era, when he was himself quite advanced in age. He was a native of
+Spain, and the first foreigner who had been permitted to wear Rome's
+imperial purple. He was welcomed with great joy, for the people had just
+been suffering from the monstrous barbarities of Domitian. Nerva was a
+man of gentle temper, and like Numa Pompilius, the second king, who had
+reigned about eight centuries before him, a true lover of peace. With
+paternal care he used the public money for the public good, instead of
+wasting it in mad extravagance, like his predecessors. Unfortunately,
+his sway was short, only about sixteen months, when he fell a victim to
+a sudden fever, at the age of sixty-six. His memory was gratefully
+embalmed, for his justice and generosity, and the tranquillity he had
+given to the empire.
+
+[Illustration: "Continue the command of your passions; make virtue the
+scope of all your actions."--p. 98]
+
+Trajan, his successor, was also born in Spain. In his youth he had been
+the pupil of Plutarch, the philosopher, who after his elevation thus
+addressed him in an affectionate speech "Continue the command of your
+passions. Make virtue the scope of all your actions. You have it in
+your power to render me the most honoured of men, by continuing your
+present course of conduct. If you follow my instructions, I shall glory
+in having given them. If you neglect them, this address shall be my
+testimony, that you have not erred through the counsel or authority of
+Plutarch."
+
+The Emperor did not disregard the motives set before him by his revered
+teacher. The principles that had been impressed on his boyhood, were as
+a guiding helm amid the cares of state. He carefully improved his time,
+was moderate in expense, and modest amid pomp and power. Among his
+public works was a noble bridge over the Danube, whose massy ruins are
+still seen by the traveller. He adorned the city of Rome with splendid
+and substantial buildings, and delighted to draw men of merit from
+obscurity. His faults were, great fondness for war, and persecuting the
+Christians, which his strong attachment to the heathen ritual in which
+he had been educated made him consider as a duty, or a proof of
+sincerity. He died, during an absence from home, of apoplexy, at the age
+of sixty-three, having reigned nineteen years.
+
+Adrian, the fifteenth Roman Emperor, began his reign in 117. He had
+received an excellent education. He was an eloquent speaker, and wrote
+well, both in prose and poetry. One of his greatest virtues was, that he
+truly loved peace. He treated those who were in humble stations with
+kindness. He said that the chief ruler of a nation should be "like the
+sun, giving warmth to the lowly vales as well as to the mountains." He
+travelled to France, to Germany, and to Holland; not to make war, but to
+show himself friendly to their inhabitants. From thence he went to
+England, and built a wall from Cumberland to Northumberland, to assist
+in protecting that part of the island from the natives of the north,
+who were unfriendly and barbarous. He visited Spain and Athens, showing
+kindness to the people, and went also to many parts of Asia and Africa.
+He made just laws, and favoured men of learning. He had so remarkable a
+memory, that he could repeat the substance of a book after once reading
+it, and he knew the name of every soldier in the Roman army. Though he
+had so many virtues, he had also great faults. He committed some acts of
+cruelty, and was very unkind to the Jews. He banished them from their
+beloved city Jerusalem, and forbade them to come even in sight of it, or
+to enter it, except one day in the year. In his last sickness he became
+impatient of pain, and even entreated those around him to take away his
+life. He cried out, "How miserable a thing it is to seek death and not
+to find it!" Being a heathen, he had not the comfort of hope in another
+life. Just before he expired, he composed some verses addressed to his
+soul, expressing uncertainty with regard to its immortality. He died at
+the age of sixty-two, having reigned twenty-two years.
+
+Titus Antoninus Pius was one of the most faultless of the good emperors.
+As his father died in his childhood, his mother and grandfather
+conducted his education. To them, as well as to all aged persons, he
+habitually paid great respect. In his youth, his temper was so mild and
+affectionate, that he gained the love of all with whom he associated.
+After he became Emperor, he distributed among the poor the greater part
+of the revenue from his own estates. He completed a magnificent tomb for
+his predecessor Adrian, repaired many of the edifices of ancient Greece,
+and built a wall in Britain, between the rivers Esk and Tweed. He
+laboured to prevent wars, and uttered the noble sentiment,
+
+"I had rather save the life of one citizen than to destroy a thousand
+enemies."
+
+He was friendly to the Christians, and showed them favour. He sought to
+be a peace-maker between all contending persons, and to set a consistent
+example of moral excellence. In these respects he has been compared both
+to Nerva and to Numa, the latter of whom preserved the blessings of
+peace to the people during his whole reign of forty-three years. Marcus
+Antoninus reigned somewhat more than half as long, namely, twenty-two
+years. During a residence at one of his country-seats, he was attacked
+by a fever which proved fatal to him at the age of seventy-four. He was
+loved and lamented by the whole empire, over which he had ruled as a
+father, seeking the welfare of his children.
+
+Marcus Aurelius is a favourite with historians, and has been ranked
+among the greatest of the good emperors. He made his predecessor, who
+was his father-in-law, his model in the affairs of government. He took
+pleasure in praising his virtues, and thus affectionately mentions some
+of them, in a work of which he was the author:
+
+"I have much observed his meekness, and his constancy without wavering,
+in those things which after due deliberation he had determined. I
+remember his freedom from all vanity, his patient industry, his
+readiness to hear any man that had aught to say tending to the common
+good. How readily and impartially would he give every man his due. How
+modestly would he condescend to other men, as though he was an ordinary
+man himself. How accurately would he examine and consult, and how
+patiently would he hear others. Neither would he hastily give over the
+search of difficult matters, or be easily satisfied with sudden notions
+and opinions. How carefully would he preserve his friends, never
+treating them with neglect, or growing weary of them.
+
+I love to remember his contented mind, his cheerful countenance, his
+care to foresee things afar off, and to give orders without noise or
+clamour. How was all flattery repressed by him, and how carefully did he
+observe all things necessary to the government, and keep an account of
+all the common expenses. And when he was reproached by some for this
+very strictness, how patiently did he bear it. He was neither studious
+to please men, nor ambitious of popular applause, but sober in all
+things, every where observant of that which was fitting. In those things
+which conduce to ease and convenience, of which his great fortune
+allowed him a plentiful supply, he was without pride or boasting. He
+freely enjoyed them when they were present, and when they were absent,
+was never uneasy for the want of them. He was commended as a man that
+could not endure to be flattered, but was able to govern both himself
+and others. He honoured all true philosophers, without upbraiding those
+who were not so. In his conversation he was sociable and delightful. How
+gently would he yield to those who had any peculiar talent, such as
+eloquence, or knowledge of the laws, or ancient customs, and how
+heartily he endeavoured that everyone might, according to their
+excellence, be regarded and esteemed. How constant was he in his
+attention to business; and after his great fits of headache, how fresh
+and vigorous would he return to his wonted affairs. In all things having
+respect unto men, only as men, and to the equity of things, and not unto
+the glory that might follow."
+
+Marcus Aurelius still further evinced his gratitude and reverence for
+Antoninus Pius, by erecting to his memory a beautifully sculptured
+marble column, more than a hundred feet in height, and surmounted by
+his statue, which may still be seen at Rome, though more than 1700 years
+old.
+
+He was a lover of knowledge. Through his whole life he laboured to
+obtain it. After he became an emperor, he used to go, and sometimes on
+foot, to the house of a man of wisdom, named Apollonius, that he might
+take lessons of him. He valued intellectual riches more than gold or
+power. Among all the cares of state, he found time for it, saying that
+it was his desire to learn as long as he lived.
+
+He was particularly attached to the study of philosophy, and used to
+call it his mother, to prove his affection. He established schools for
+it, both at Rome and Athens. He often gave lectures in that science to
+the people, deeming it no derogation from imperial dignity to instruct
+and elevate the public mind. Especially, when about to be absent from
+the city, for any length of time, he thus addressed his people, that if
+he never returned, their last remembrance of him might be connected with
+precepts of virtue.
+
+His principal faults were allowing the Christians to be persecuted, and
+being often engaged in war, though his principles revolted against it,
+and he considered it a calamity. He died at Vindobona, where the city of
+Vienna, in Austria, now stands, after the sickness of a week, on March
+17th, 180; having lived fifty-nine years, and reigned nineteen. He was
+so much beloved, that many kept his image or statue in their houses,
+offering it flowers and incense, as one of their heathen gods.
+
+The two last of these Emperors were called Antonines. Their united
+periods of sway amounted to forty-one years, and Rome never enjoyed
+greater happiness than during their sovereignty. Afterwards, it declined
+both in prosperity and virtue.
+
+The reigns of the five good Emperors extended over a period of
+eighty-four years, just the length of one of the revolutions of the
+planet Herschel around the sun. With a single one of his years he
+measured out the earthly span of all these mighty monarchs. Ere he
+returned to his annual goal, they had risen, and flourished, and fallen.
+
+A hoary-headed man might have seen the whole of their imperial sway. An
+aged English statesman, Sir John Mason, outlived five of his own
+sovereigns. In looking back upon so long a life, he said that he had
+received favours from them all, and been promoted to many honours, but
+that religion and hope in heaven were the truest riches, and all things
+else forsook him, but his God, his duty, and his prayers.
+
+The study of history is salutary to the young mind. To know what has
+been done in all countries, since man was placed upon the earth, is a
+laudable curiosity, and an ennobling pursuit. To form a correct opinion
+of the characters thus presented us, affords useful exercise to the
+judgment. Those who have delighted only to shed blood, and to build
+their fame on the misery of mankind, should not be admired though the
+world may pronounce them heroes.
+
+In reading of the truly wise and good, we should strive to imbibe their
+spirit and tread in their steps. The highest end of knowledge is to
+advance in goodness and piety, and to make the heart and life more
+acceptable to God.
+
+
+
+
+The Ploughing of the Sword.
+
+    "They shall beat their swords into Plough-shares." Isaiah, II,
+    4.
+
+
+    The ploughing of the Sword
+      Breaks up the greensward deep,
+    And stirs the old foundations
+      Where the baleful passions sleep;
+    The quiet beauty of the vales
+      It rudely rends away,
+    And turns the roots of the riven flowers
+      To the scorching eye of day.
+
+    And then, they madly sow
+      The seeds of bitter strife,
+    Ambition, wrath, revenge,
+      And stern contempt of life.
+    They wildly scatter o'er the land
+      Dissension, pain, and care,
+    And fright away the birds of peace
+      That fain would carol there.
+
+    Now call the reapers forth,
+      With the thundering cannon's roar,
+    Hark! to the rush of an armed host
+      Like the surge on a rocky shore,
+    With tramp and clang, the warrior's heel
+      Doth the red wine-press tread,
+    And heavily roll the loaded wains
+      With their burdens of the dead.
+
+    They reap with murderous sickle,
+      Mid the shrill trumpet's cry,
+    Till the mightiest and the lowest,
+      In equal ruin lie.
+    Till the screaming vulture whets his beak,
+      Where the blood-pools blot the green,
+    And the gaunt hyena prowls at night
+      His dire repast to glean.
+
+    They store their carnage spoil
+      In History's garner wide,
+    A reeking overflowing crop
+      Of crime, and woe, and pride,
+    The widow's pang, the orphan's tear
+      The exulting tyrant's might,
+    And the cry of souls for ever lost,
+      As they take their fearful flight.
+
+    Oh! mourning Mother Earth,
+      Lift up thy heart and pray
+    That the ploughing of the sword
+      Be for ever done away,
+    And thine own meekly-cultur'd fields
+      With nodding corn be dress'd,
+    To feed thy children, ere they take
+      Their slumber in thy breast.
+
+    And thou, terrific Sword!
+      Whose ministry accurs'd
+    Doth waste the span of mortal life
+      That was so brief at first,
+    God speed the day when promis'd Peace
+      Shall reign from shore to shore,
+    And thou, into a plough-share beat,
+      Convulse the world no more.
+
+
+
+
+The Good and Bad Emperor.
+
+
+Marcus Aurelius Antoninus was the seventeenth Emperor of Rome, and began
+his reign on the 2nd of March, 161 years before the Christian era.
+Besides these three names, he had several others, _Annius Verus_, after
+his grandfather; _Elius_, which was given him by the Emperor Adrian;
+_Verissimus_, from his constant regard to truth; and _Philosophos_, from
+his love of wisdom.
+
+In early childhood he was instructed by his mother, who took great pains
+to teach him not to do wrong, or to think unkindly of any person. She
+would not permit him to be dainty in his food, or to partake in luxuries
+that might be hurtful to his health; and though he saw much to tempt his
+taste, he regarded the restrictions of his mother. She also counselled
+him not to be proud, but to relieve the poor whenever he had
+opportunity. By his respect and obedience to her, he began life with the
+elements of virtue and happiness.
+
+His grandfather also conducted a part of his education, in childhood. He
+listened reverently to his words, and followed all his directions. Thus,
+he began to honour and love the aged, and to bow down before them. In
+one of the wise books which he wrote in manhood, the very first
+sentences are expressive of gratitude to these his earliest teachers.
+
+"Of my grandfather, I learned to be gentle and meek, and to refrain from
+all anger and passion. Of my mother, I learned to be religious and
+bountiful, to forbear not only to do, but to intend any evil; to content
+myself with a spare diet, and to fly all the excesses that come from
+great wealth."
+
+Not content with the high moral training of his immediate instructors,
+he was careful to imitate whatever he saw that was praiseworthy in the
+conduct of others. "Of my brother," he writes, "I have learned to be
+kind and loving to all of my house and family, bountiful and liberal in
+the largest measure, always to hope for the best, and to believe that my
+friends love me."
+
+As he grew older, masters were called in to direct his studies. Two of
+these were from Greece, and he acquired the language of that classic
+clime with great accuracy. Junius Rusticus, his instructor in
+philosophy, he says, "taught me to write letters simply, and without
+affectation, to be easily reconciled to those who had offended me, as
+soon as any of them would be content to seek unto me again; also, to
+read with diligence, and never to be content with light and superficial
+knowledge."
+
+He was particularly partial to that department of philosophy which
+teaches the regulation of the temper and conduct. Such excellence did he
+attain in its principles and their exemplification, that he was
+permitted to assume, at the age of twelve, the philosophical gown. His
+rapid progress in knowledge, and preeminence for truth and integrity,
+gained him the favour of the Emperor Adrian, who was a patron of
+learning and virtue. Among other distinctions, he appointed him prefect
+of the city, when only fifteen years old. It was an office of power and
+importance, comprising the superintendence of buildings, and navigation,
+and the judging of causes, as a chief magistrate, if the Emperor should
+be absent from the city. In this responsible station, he acquitted
+himself with justice and dignity, not at all vain of his elevation, but
+improving every opportunity to advance in knowledge.
+
+Amid the pressure of his public offices and private studies, he did not
+overlook the domestic affections. To his sister Annia Corneficia, he
+showed the utmost tenderness. He liked to impart his knowledge to her,
+and to have her enjoy the new ideas that he gathered. After the death of
+their father, he became her watchful protector, and the paternal estate
+having been left to him, he presented it to her, rejoicing at having it
+in his power to make her so valuable a gift. His generosity was equalled
+by his gratitude. When he became Emperor of Rome, he remembered all who
+had done him services, and recompensed them. Especially to his teachers,
+his regard was unbounded. His obligations to them he frequently
+mentioned, and said the knowledge with which they had stored his mind
+was more precious than the wealth of an empire. While they lived, he
+loaded them with benefits. When they died, he paid to their memories the
+tribute of affectionate respect. He laid chaplets of flowers on their
+tombs, and caused their statues to be made of gold, which he kept in his
+domestic chapel.
+
+In this feature of attachment to his instructors he resembled Alexander
+the Great, who was never weary of testifying gratitude to his master,
+Aristotle. Comparing it to the affection for his father, he said, "I am
+indebted to Philip for _living_, and to Aristotle for _living well_." He
+rebuilt and beautified Stagyra, after it had been destroyed, because it
+was the native place of Aristotle, and enclosed a copy of Homer's poems,
+to which this beloved preceptor had written notes, in a gold box,
+carrying it wherever he went with his armies, and laying it under his
+head every night, when he retired to rest. In a letter to his teacher,
+he says, "I had rather surpass the rest of men in the knowledge of
+sublime and excellent things, than in greatness and extent of power."
+
+More truly great was Alexander in this sentiment, than in his renown as
+a warrior. And surely, in the beautiful sentiment of gratitude to our
+instructors in knowledge and virtue, we, who are Christians, ought not
+to suffer ourselves to be surpassed by the followers of false gods.
+
+When Marcus Aurelius was raised to the highest office in the Empire, he
+felt it incumbent on him to be the father of his people. He strove to do
+good to all. He laboured to frame just laws. He directed the courts to
+take a longer time for the transaction of business, that they might not
+be tempted, through haste, to neglect the causes of the poor. So great
+was his own industry and patience, that he not unfrequently gave ten
+days to the study of a case whose decision was important or difficult.
+
+He showed great respect for the opinion of the Senate, and never took
+any portion of the revenue for public expenses without their permission.
+He evinced much prudence in the use of what they entrusted to him. Once,
+when the claims of the nation were peculiarly pressing, he said to his
+wife, the Empress Faustina,
+
+"I will sell the furniture of my palace, and you can dispose of your
+richest clothing, rather than burden our people to part with more than
+they can spare."
+
+He was anxious for the improvement of the young, and appointed a
+magistrate to whom minors might apply, who needed protection or
+assistance. He was careful to add an example of morality to the
+precepts that he impressed on others. Though he had power to punish, it
+was his practice to forgive those who had done him personal injuries. He
+had a foe, named Avidius, whose slanders he generously pardoned.
+Afterwards, hearing that Avidius had destroyed his own life, he said,
+"Ah! I have now lost the opportunity of changing an enemy into a
+friend."
+
+He also cultivated the virtue of patience with the infirmities of
+others. "If we cannot make them in all things as we wish them to be," he
+used to say, "we must take them as they are, and do the best with them
+that lies in our power." This principle of forbearance was strongly put
+to the test by Lucius Verus, his colleague during the earlier part of
+his reign. This person rendered little aid in the cares of the
+government, whose authority he partook. He led an idle life, and
+selfishly regarded only his own wishes. He possessed much vanity, and
+coveted popular applause, though he did nothing to deserve it. He liked
+the pomp and pageantry of war, but not its hardships. Though he was
+forward to promote it, yet he threw its toils upon others, and when in
+distant countries with the Roman armies, spent his time in indolence or
+unmanly sports. He was addicted to indulgence in wine, and a luxurious
+table. Hence he injured his health, and probably shortened his days,
+dying suddenly in a fit, ere he was forty years old.
+
+The efforts that Marcus Aurelius made for his improvement and
+reformation, were like those of a kind father, anxious for his erring
+son. He mildly reasoned with him, and faithfully advised him, and
+laboured to excuse his faults, even when the whole nation was
+exasperated.
+
+The command over his passions, which was so conspicuous in Marcus
+Aurelius, he derived from long study and practice of that Philosophy to
+which he was so much attached, as to call it his "mother." He made
+choice of the sect of the Stoics, who were sometimes called scholars of
+the Portico, because their master gave his lectures in a portico adorned
+with pictures, at Athens, in Greece. Zeno, the founder of this school of
+philosophers, discouraged luxury, and the pride of wealth. He set an
+example of great simplicity of life, dressing plainly, and being frugal
+in all his expenses. Bread, figs, and honey, were his principal diet,
+and when the most distinguished men sat at his table, he made no change
+in its provisions. He was modest in the estimation of himself, and amid
+any concourse of people, sought the humblest and lowest place. To poor
+men of merit, he paid the same respect as if they had been rich. He had
+many opposers, but never lost his temper through their provocations. He
+taught that virtue was the true good, that happiness existed in the mind
+and not in outward circumstances, and that men should be unmoved either
+by pleasure or pain. His temperance and tranquil spirit were probably
+favourable to longevity, as he died on the verge of ninety-nine, two
+hundred and sixty-four years before the Christian era.
+
+Marcus Aurelius embodied some of the precepts of his philosophy in a
+book which has been praised by wise and learned men. As a specimen of
+its style, I will extract some of his sentiments on the diligent
+improvement of time.
+
+"In the morning, if thou feelest reluctant to rise, consider how much
+work thou hast to do. Say to thy heart, Am I unwilling to go about that
+for which I was born, and brought into this world? Was I made to please
+myself idly, in a warm bed?
+
+"Wert thou born only to enjoy pleasure? Was it not rather that thou
+mightest be always busy, and in action? Seest thou not how every tree
+and plant, how sparrows and ants, spiders and bees, are industrious and
+intent to perform what belongs unto them? And wilt not thou hasten to do
+that which thy nobler nature doth require?"
+
+In his Meditations he thus reasons on the firmness with which this
+mortal existence should be resigned; and his argument is as strong as
+any that philosophy, unenlightened by the Gospel, could furnish.
+
+"Thou hast taken ship. Thou hast sailed. Thou hast come to land. Get out
+of the ship into another life. The Gods are there."
+
+Yet this good Emperor, who seemed as perfect as it was possible for
+pagan morality and belief to make any human being, still had faults. One
+of the most prominent of these was persecuting the Christians. That a
+man so habitually mild should have been thus severe, can only be
+explained on the principle that he believed himself to be doing right.
+Thus the Apostle Paul, when he imprisoned and punished the followers of
+Christ, and consented to the stoning of Stephen, "calling upon God,"
+persuaded himself that he was discharging a sacred duty.
+
+Marcus Aurelius was much influenced by the priests of the heathen
+temples, who were jealous of whatever interfered with their own
+idol-worship, and also by the philosophers, who despised the Christians.
+Much of the barbarity to which they were subjected was hidden from him,
+as the governors of the distant provinces put many to death without his
+knowledge. Still, he ought to have more thoroughly investigated the
+truth with regard to them, and had he been acquainted with the New
+Testament, would doubtless have admired its pure and sublime morality.
+
+Another of his faults was, that he so often engaged in war when he did
+not approve of it, but considered it both a calamity and disgrace. It
+has been already mentioned that his colleague, Lucius Verus, was proud
+of military parade, and encouraged bloodshed. The Romans, also, were an
+iron-hearted people, placing their glory in foreign conquest. Any
+disorder in the countries that they had subjected, they were prompt to
+punish by the sword.
+
+On one such occasion, when Marcus Aurelius led an army into Germany, to
+chastise the Quadi, a tribe who had rebelled against the sway of Rome,
+some remarkable circumstances occurred. It was a wild region which he
+traversed, where it was difficult to obtain sustenance. The troops were
+in danger of famine. The heat was intense, and no rain had fallen for a
+long time, so that the grass was withered, and many of their horses
+perished. The brooks and fountains wasted away, and they endured
+distressing thirst. The enemy shut them up between the mountains and
+themselves, preventing as far as possible their approach to the rivers.
+Then in this weak condition they forced them to give battle or be cut
+off.
+
+It was pitiful to see the Roman soldiers standing in their ranks, with
+enfeebled limbs and parched lips, almost suffocated with heat. For four
+days they had scarcely tasted water. As their barbarous enemies pressed
+closely and fiercely upon them, the Emperor advanced to the head of his
+forces, and, oppressed with anxiety, raised his eyes to heaven, and
+said,
+
+"By this hand, which hath taken no life away, I desire to appease Thee.
+Giver of life! I pray unto Thee."
+
+Poor and empty, indeed, was this form of heathen devotion, contrasted
+with the triumphant trust of the king of Judah, who, when the mighty
+host of the Ethiopians stood ready to swallow him up, exclaimed,
+
+"It is nothing for God to help, whether by many or by them that have no
+power."
+
+Then it was told the Emperor, that there was in the camp an Egyptian,
+who boasted that the gods of his country could give rain.
+
+"Call him forth!" was the imperial command, "bid him pray for water to
+relieve our thirst, and make to his gods any offerings that spirit
+propitiate them."
+
+The dark-browed man came forward and with many ceremonies invoked Isis,
+the goddess who presided over the waters. He implored her with the most
+piercing earnestness to be gracious, and give rain. Thus the
+idol-priests, during the long drought in Israel, under Ahab, when the
+grass and brooks dried up, and the cattle died, cried in their frantic
+sacrifices, "from morning until noon, Oh Baal! hear us. But there was no
+voice, neither any that regarded."
+
+In the pause of despair that ensued, some Christian soldiers, who had
+been constrained to join the army, were led forward. Kneeling on the
+glowing sands, they besought the Great Maker of heaven and earth, for
+the sake of their dear crucified Saviour, to pity, and to save. Solemnly
+arose their voices in that time of trouble.
+
+But the interval allotted to this supplication of faith was brief. The
+conflict might no longer be deferred. As they approached to join in
+battle, the enemy exulted to see the Roman soldiers perishing with
+thirst, and worn almost to skeletons, through famine and hardship.
+
+Suddenly the skies grew black. At first a few large drops fell, Heaven's
+sweet promise of mercy. Then came a plentiful shower, then rain in
+torrents. The sufferers, with shouts of joy, caught it in their helmets,
+and in the hollow of their shields. The blessed draught gave them new
+strength and courage.
+
+While they were yet drinking, their foes rushed upon them, and blood was
+mingled with the water that quenched their thirst. But the storm grew
+more terrible, with keen flashes of lightning, and thunder heavily
+reverberating from rock to rock. The barbarians, smitten with sudden
+panic, exclaimed that the gods fought against them with the fires of
+heaven, and fled from the field. Thus the fortune of the day was turned,
+and the vanquished left victors.
+
+Marcus Aurelius received this deliverance with deep gratitude. In his
+heart he connected it with the prayer of the Christians, and caused
+their persecutions to cease. An ancient historian mentions that the
+soldiers who had thus supplicated for relief, received the name of the
+"thundering legion," and were permitted to have a thunderbolt graven on
+their shields, as a memorial of the tempest that had discomfited their
+enemies, and saved the Roman forces, when ready to perish. The Emperor,
+in his letter to the Senate, recorded the events of that wonderful
+occasion, which, among others connected with the war he then conducted,
+were sculptured on the Antonine column, still standing in the city of
+Rome.
+
+When the career of Marcus Aurelius terminated, and his time came to die,
+he gave parting advice to his son and successor, Commodus, solemnly
+charging his chief officers and the friends who loved him, to aid him in
+the discharge of his duties. Though he uttered so many precepts of
+wisdom and fatherly tenderness, it still seemed as if much was left
+unspoken, which he would fain have said. Anxious care sat upon his brow
+after his pale lips breathed no sound. It was supposed that this trouble
+was for his son, in whose right dispositions and habits he could have
+little confidence.
+
+Commodus was the only son of Marcus Aurelius, his twin brother having
+died during infancy. The utmost pains had been taken with his education.
+But he had no love of knowledge, preferring sports or idleness, having
+no correct value of the preciousness of time.
+
+When he was but fourteen years of age, his father permitted him to have
+a share in the government, hoping thus to elevate him above trifling
+pursuits, and implant in his young heart an interest for the people over
+whom he was appointed to rule. But no sooner was he in possession of
+power, than he began to abuse it. He grew haughty, and despised the
+rights of others, studying only his own selfish gratification.
+
+He was nineteen, when, by the death of his father, he assumed the
+supreme authority. For a time his course was more judicious than could
+have been expected, as he consented to take the advice of aged
+counsellors, who were experienced in the cares of state. Afterwards, he
+rejected their guidance, and would listen only to the suggestions of
+young and rash advisers. Ere long he became unjust and cruel, taking
+away life as his own caprices dictated.
+
+Among some of his most illustrious victims were the Quintillian
+brothers, Maximin and Cardianus. They were distinguished for wealth and
+liberality, and a zealous kindness in relieving the poor. They were also
+remarkable for their mutual affection, their studies and pleasures being
+the same. They read the same books, and so uniform was their flow of
+thought, that they could pursue together the composition of the same
+treatise. Such delight had they in each other's company, that they were
+seldom seen separate, and had no idea of divided or opposing interests.
+Rome admired this beautiful example of fraternal love, pointing them
+out as two forms animated by one soul. Without just cause, Commodus put
+to death these two brothers, who, having lived in each other's life,
+were executed at the same time.
+
+In the midst of such barbarities, this bad Emperor was amusing himself
+with the hunting of wild beasts, and the company of vain and vicious
+people. His excesses were at length terminated by violence, being
+strangled after a reign of twelve years, December 31st, 192. His memory
+was execrated by those over whom he had ruled. Indolence and hatred of
+knowledge in his boyhood, and love of wicked associates in youth,
+brought the vices of a bad heart to early ripeness, so that he was at
+once dreaded and despised.
+
+In analyzing his character, it will be found in two respects similar to
+that of Rehoboam, king of Israel, in his rejection of the advice of aged
+counsellors, to follow the guidance of the young, and in being the
+unwise son of a wise father.
+
+We see that the honours won by illustrious ancestors will avail us
+nothing, unless by our own virtues we sustain their reputation. Indeed,
+if we take a different course, our disgrace will be deeper, as the
+career of the bad Emperor, which we have briefly traced, seems darker
+when contrasted with the lustre and glory of his predecessor.
+
+Therefore, let every child of a good and distinguished parent, give
+added diligence, that he may not blemish the memory of those whom he
+loves, or stain the brightness of a transmitted name.
+
+
+
+
+Bonaparte at St. Helena.
+
+
+    The drama sinks, the tragic scene is o'er,
+    And he who rul'd their springs, returns no more;
+    He, who with mystery cloth'd, pale wonder chain'd,
+    And all mankind his auditors detain'd,
+    Whose plot unfolding agoniz'd the world,
+    Resigns his mask, and from the stage is hurl'd.
+      When from the wilds of Corsica he broke,
+    To snatch the sceptre and to bind the yoke,
+    He rais'd the curtain with his dagger's blade,
+    And pour'd red carnage o'er the slumbering shade.
+      His fearful plan, terrific, strange, and new,
+    Nor Fancy prompted, nor Experience drew,
+    It sprang inventive from a daring mind
+    Where dauntless nerve and intellect combined;
+    Thence bursting wildly, like the lightning's flame,
+    Gave birth to deeds that language fails to name.
+      With battle-clouds the shrinking sun he veil'd,
+    With flashing fires astonish'd Night assail'd,
+    By ravag'd fields, and streams with carnage red,
+    Trac'd o'er the earth his desolating tread:
+
+    Without a signal to the conflict rush'd
+    O'er friends enslav'd, foes wounded, allies crush'd;
+    High from the Alps, amid eternal snow,
+    Pour'd his fierce legions on the vale below,
+    With tramp of hurrying steed and armour's clang
+    War followed war; from conquest, conquest sprang.
+    In Scythian caves he fought; on Afric's sands,
+    Chas'd the wild Arab and his roving bands;
+    Perch'd on the pyramids in dizzy height.
+    Look'd scornful down on Alexander's might;
+    O'er Europe's realm like Attila he rush'd,
+    Snatch'd, rent, divided, subjugated, crush'd;
+    _Here_, planted minions in his smile to reign,
+    _There_, loaded monarchs with his vassal chain.
+    Rome's haughty pontiff trembled at the nod
+    That dar'd to threat the altar of his God;
+    While Albion's ships, whose bristled lightnings glow,
+    Were seen like Argus watching for their foe,
+    And her white cliffs in close array were lin'd
+    With sleepless soldiers, on their arms reclin'd.
+
+    Far distant realms beheld his glories tower,
+    And France forgot her wrongs, to boast his power;
+    The pale-brow'd conscript left, without a sigh,
+    Home, love, and liberty, for him to die.
+    Even heaven-taught Genius proffer'd venal lays,
+    The servile arts enlisted in his praise,
+    And the rich spoils of old Italia's shore
+    As trophies proud, his pirate legions bore.
+    In that gay city where his lofty throne
+    On run rear'd, in sudden brilliance shone,
+    The Old World met the New, and sons of fame
+    Who fill'd with awe, in long procession came,
+    Rais'd the imploring eye, to ask sublime
+    A milder sentence on the tyrant's crime.
+      But how can Europe grant their warm appeal,
+    Reft of her sons, and mangled by his steel?
+    Hath she a couch so dark, a cell so deep,
+    That burning Moscow's memory there may sleep?
+    What can the scenes of purple Jaffa blot?
+    And when shall Lodi's slaughter be forgot?
+    Who from a race unborn shall hide the view
+    Of Jena, Austerlitz, and Waterloo?
+    Earth, clad in sable, never can forego
+    The deep-grav'd trace, nor man forget the woe.
+
+    Yet, _let him live_, if life can yet be borne,
+    Disrob'd of glory, and depress'd with scorn;
+    Yes, _let him live_, if he to life can bend,
+    Without a flatterer, and without a friend;
+    If from the hand he hated, he can bear
+    To take the gift, his stain'd existence spare.
+      But who from yon lone islet shall exclude
+    The fearful step of Conscience, foul with blood?
+    What diamond shield repel the impetuous force
+    Or break the shafts of pitiless remorse?
+      Oh! in his sea-girt cell of guilt and fear,
+    Stretch the red map that marks his dire career,
+    Light the funereal torch, in terror spread
+    His reeking hecatombs of slaughter'd dead,
+    And if to hearts like his, Contrition comes,
+    There let him seek her 'mid impending glooms;
+    _There_ let him live, and to mankind display
+    The mighty miseries of Ambition's sway;
+    There let him sink, to teach them by his fate,
+    The dread requital of the falsely great.
+    Great, in the stores of an ambitious mind;
+    Great, in the deeds that desolate mankind;
+    Great, like the pestilence in mystic shroud
+    That darts its arrow from the midnight cloud;
+    Great, like the whirlwind in its wrecking path,
+    To sow in evil, and to reap in wrath.
+
+
+
+
+Polycarp.
+
+
+There have been in all ages some firm and consistent Christians, who,
+rather than deny the true faith, have chosen martyrdom. Polycarp, the
+Bishop of Smyrna, in Asia, was one of the earliest of these. He had
+become very old and venerable, when, during one of the persecutions
+under the Roman Emperors, his life was taken away. No accusation was
+ever made against him, except that he was a follower of Christ.
+
+Suddenly there was a great noise in the streets, and multitudes shouted,
+"Let Polycarp be brought!" Not dismayed at the tumult, he retired to
+pray, as was his custom at that hour. Then his enemies rushed forcibly
+into his house, and foreseeing their purpose, he said,
+
+"The will of the Lord be done."
+
+Calmly he talked with them, and as some seemed weary and exhausted, he
+commanded food to be set before them, remembering the words of the
+forgiving and compassionate Redeemer, "If thine enemy hunger, feed him;
+if he thirst, give him drink."
+
+He requested that he might have one hour for his devotions, ere they
+took him from his home, to which he felt persuaded that he should return
+no more. This they granted, and when the hour was passed, placed him on
+an ass, to carry him to the city. Two Romans of wealth and power,
+passing by, took him up into their chariot. There they endeavoured to
+persuade him to sacrifice to the heathen gods. He replied, "I shall
+never do what you advise." Then they threw him out of the chariot so
+roughly, that he was bruised and hurt. But rising, he walked on
+cheerfully, notwithstanding his great age. When he was brought before
+the tribunal, the Governor urged him to deny the Saviour. "Reverence
+thine age," said he. "Repent. Swear by the fortunes of Caesar. Reproach
+Christ, and I will set thee at liberty."
+
+But Polycarp replied, "Fourscore and six years have I served him, and he
+hath never done me an injury. How then can I blaspheme my King and
+Saviour?"
+
+"I have wild beasts," said the furious governor. "I will cast you unto
+them, unless you change your mind."
+
+"Call for them," answered Polycarp.
+
+"Nay, if you dread not the lions," said the Roman, "I will order you to
+be consumed by fire, except you repent."
+
+"Threatenest thou me," said the gray-haired Christian, "with the fire
+that burns for an hour, and then is extinguished? And art thou ignorant
+of the fire of the future judgment, and of the everlasting punishment
+reserved for the wicked?"
+
+Then the whole multitude, both of Jews and Gentiles that inhabited
+Smyrna, cried out furiously, "This is the father of the Christians, who
+teaches all Asia not to worship our gods. Let a lion loose upon him, or
+let him be cast into the flame."
+
+They hastened to raise a pile of wood and dry branches. He unclothed
+himself at their command, and endeavoured to stoop down and take off his
+shoes, which he had long been unable to do, because of his age and
+infirmity. When all things were ready, they were going to nail him to
+the stake. But he said, "He who gives me strength to bear this fire,
+will enable me to stand unmoved without being fastened with nails." Then
+he thus prayed:
+
+"Oh Father of the beloved and blessed Son, Jesus Christ, through whom we
+have obtained the knowledge of Thee, Oh God of angels and
+principalities, of all creation, and of all the just who live in thy
+sight, I bless Thee that Thou hast counted me worthy of this day, and at
+this hour, to receive my portion in the number of martyrs, in the cup of
+Christ, for the resurrection of eternal life, both of soul and body, in
+the incorruption of the Holy Ghost, among whom may I be received before
+Thee, as an acceptable sacrifice, which Thou, the faithful and true God,
+hast prepared, promised, and fulfilled accordingly. Wherefore, I praise
+Thee for all these things, I bless Thee, I glorify Thee, by the eternal
+High Priest, Jesus Christ, thy well-beloved Son, through whom and with
+whom, in the Holy Spirit, be glory to Thee, both now and for ever."
+
+Scarcely had the hoary-headed saint uttered his last earnest _Amen_, ere
+the impatient officers kindled the pile. Flame and smoke enwrapped the
+blackening body of the martyr. It was long in consuming, and so they ran
+it through with a sword. Thus died the faithful and venerable Polycarp
+in the year 168, at the age of eighty-six.
+
+
+
+
+Christmas Hymn.
+
+    "Peace on earth, and good-will to men."
+
+
+    Lift up the grateful heart to Him,
+      The Friend of want and pain,
+    Whose birth the joyous angels sang,
+      On green Judea's plain;
+
+    "Good-will and peace!" how sweet the sound
+      Upon the midnight air,
+    While sleep the fleecy flocks around,
+      Watched by their shepherd's care.
+
+    So we, within this Christian fold,
+      Lambs of our teacher's love,
+    Who hear that melody divine,
+      Still echoing from above,
+
+    Would fain, through all of life, obey
+      The spirit of the strain,
+    That so the bliss by angels sung
+      Might not to us be vain.
+
+
+
+
+The Frivolous King.
+
+
+Richard the Second was grandson of Edward the Third, and the only son of
+the celebrated Black Prince. He ascended the throne at the age of
+eleven, with every advantage that could be derived from the partiality
+of the people for his illustrious ancestors. Especially the firmness and
+magnanimity of his father, and his union of goodness with greatness, won
+the favour of the historians of his times, who assert that he left a
+stainless honour and an unblemished name.
+
+The young king, during an insurrection, gave some proofs of courage and
+presence of mind that impressed the nation favourably: and as he
+approached maturity, his graceful, majestic person awakened their
+admiration and pride. Had he by wise conduct and deportment confirmed
+these impressions, he might have swayed their affections, and firmly
+established himself in their love. But his demeanour was so light and
+frivolous, that he commanded no respect, while his self-confidence and
+contempt of wise counsel plunged him into misfortune. And as the mind
+that indulges itself in error is never stationary, he passed from
+indolence to acts of injustice, and even of cruelty.
+
+He banished for life the Duke of Norfolk, against whom no crime had been
+proved, and condemned to a ten years' exile the young Duke of
+Bolingbroke, against whom no offence had been alleged. The last named
+nobleman was his own cousin, the son of John of Gaunt, Duke of
+Lancaster, brother of the Black Prince. The aged father deeply mourned
+this disgrace and unjust punishment inflicted on his only son. Had not
+Richard been destitute of true sympathy, it would have grieved him to
+see his white-haired relative sinking in despondence, and mourning night
+and day for the absence of his son. Borne down by sorrow, and the
+infirmities of declining years, he died, and his large estates were
+immediately taken for the use of the crown.
+
+The banished Bolingbroke, exasperated at the seizure of his paternal
+inheritance, returned before the term of his exile had expired. When he
+entered his native land, some followers joined him, and as he passed
+onward, they increased to a formidable force. Richard was dilatory in
+his preparations to oppose them, and unfortunate in his encounters. He
+was defeated, and made prisoner by him who had once been the victim of
+his own tyranny.
+
+The weather was cold and cheerless, when, on almost the last day of
+December, 1399, a strange and sad scene was exhibited in the streets of
+London. There, Bolingbroke, with the title of Henry Fourth, appeared
+riding in great pomp, with a vast retinue, who filled the air with
+acclamations, followed by the drooping and degraded Richard, exposed to
+the insults of those who flattered or feared him in his day of power,
+and now spared not to cast dust and rubbish upon him. Shakspeare has
+given a most striking description of this entrance into the city, which
+seems to bring it before the eye like a picture.
+
+Though the fickle throng showered their praises upon the fortunate
+monarch, there were some left to pity the fallen. He was kept a close
+prisoner in Pomfret Castle, and subjected to many sufferings and
+indignities. There he died, some historians say by the stroke of an axe,
+and others, by the slow torture of starvation.
+
+From his untimely grave, a voice seems to rise, warning the young
+against the folly and rashness that were his ruin. Let them avoid this
+thoughtlessness and waste of time, and if they are ever tempted to
+frivolity, or contempt of the rights of others, remember what this
+prince might have been, and what he became, nor pass by this melancholy
+monument of blasted hope without learning a lesson of wisdom.
+
+
+
+
+To a Pupil Leaving School.
+
+
+    Farewell! Farewell! Once more regain
+    Your happy home, your native plain;
+    Yet here, in Learning's classic fane,
+    None have discharg'd the allotted part
+    With firmer zeal or fonder heart.
+    And true affection still shall hold
+    Your image, set in Memory's gold.
+      Yet think, sweet friend, where'er you rove,
+    That He who strews your path with love,
+    Accords no boon of which to say,
+    "'Tis light, go trifle it away."
+      No. Every fleeting hour survives;
+    It seems to vanish, yet it lives;
+    Though buried, it shall burst the tomb,
+    And meet you at the bar of doom.
+      But _how_ it rises, _how_ appears,
+    With smiles or frowns, with joys or fears.
+    And ah! what verdict then it bears,
+    Rests on your labours, and your prayers.
+
+
+
+
+Pious Princes.
+
+
+The pomp with which royalty is surrounded must be unfavourable to a
+right education. Its proud expectations are often destructive to
+humility, and its flatteries blind the mind to a knowledge of itself.
+
+Yet History records a few instances, where the young heart has escaped
+these dangers, and chosen truth for its guide, and wisdom as its
+portion. Here and there, we find one, whom the possession of an earthly
+crown did not deter from the pursuit of that which is incorruptible and
+eternal.
+
+Josiah, the king of Judah, was one of these rare examples. He was born
+about the year six hundred and thirty-three, before the Christian era,
+and at the early age of eight was called to succeed his father on the
+throne. The temptations of kingly power, which are so often a hindrance
+to piety, seemed rather to dispose his heart to its influence, for the
+sacred historian records that in the eighth year of his reign, while he
+was yet young, "he began to seek after the God of David his father."
+
+The religion of this young prince of sixteen soon unfolded itself in
+earnest deeds; the overthrow of idolatry, the repair of the Holy Temple,
+and the establishment of laws for the welfare of his people and realm.
+
+Modern history, also, describes some young heirs of royalty, whom it is
+pleasant to contemplate. Conspicuous among these is Edward VI. of
+England, who began his reign in 1547, at the age of nine years. His
+mother died almost immediately after his birth, and until he was nearly
+seven he was under the care of females, whose virtues and
+accomplishments were calculated to make the happiest impression on his
+character. Thus, by the grace of God, was laid the foundation of that
+deep, tender, and consistent piety, that marked his conduct through
+life, and left him, at death, an unblemished fame.
+
+In early childhood he discovered strong powers of mind, and a
+conscientious heart. His reverence for the Scriptures was remarkable.
+Once, while playing with some infantine companions, he desired to reach
+an article that was considerably above their heads. So they moved a
+large book for him to stand upon. Scarcely had he placed his foot upon
+the covers when he saw it was the Bible. Instantly drawing back, he
+folded his arms around it and said seriously to his play-fellows, "Shall
+I trample under my feet that which God hath commanded me to treasure up
+in my heart?"
+
+On his seventh birth-day he was placed under the tuition of learned men,
+to study such branches of knowledge as they considered best for him,
+among which were the Latin and French languages. He was docile to all
+their directions, and frequently expressed his gratitude for their
+instructions. Letters elegantly written in Latin, at the age of eight,
+to his father, Henry Eighth, Queen Catharine Parr, his mother-in-law,
+and the Earl of Hertford, his uncle, are preserved as curiosities in the
+annals of those times.
+
+At his coronation, being then nine years old, three swords were laid
+before him to signify that he was the monarch of three separate
+kingdoms.
+
+"There is another sword yet wanting," said the child-prince, "one more,
+the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. Without that we are
+nothing, we can do nothing; we have no power. Through that, we are what
+we are, at this day. From that Book alone, we obtain all virtue and
+salvation, and whatever we have of divine strength."
+
+Constancy and regularity in prayer was among his early traits of
+character. After he became a king, and was subject to the interruptions
+and temptations of a court, nothing could induce him to neglect his
+daily seasons of private devotion. One day, he was told, that Sir John
+Cheeke, who had given him lessons in Latin, when quite a young child,
+was dangerously sick. With deep solemnity on his countenance, he went to
+his stated retirement, and afterwards hearing that the physician had
+said there was little hope of his recovery, replied in the simple
+fervour of faith,
+
+"Ah! but I think there is. For I have most earnestly begged of God, in
+my prayers, this morning, to spare him."
+
+When the sufferer was restored to health, and informed of this
+circumstance, he was deeply touched by the grateful affection and
+confiding piety of his royal pupil.
+
+Edward Sixth kept an exact diary of all the memorable events that passed
+under his observation. The conferring of every office, civil or
+ecclesiastical, the receipts and expenditure of the revenue, the repairs
+or erection of forts, the sending forth or reception of ambassadors, and
+indeed, all matters of business that occurred during his reign, were
+legibly recorded by his own hand, with their appropriate dates. This
+diary, which evinces industry and uprightness of purpose, is often
+quoted by historians.
+
+But pulmonary consumption early made fatal inroads on his health, and he
+prepared for a higher and happier state with the benignity of one whose
+heart was already there. The following prayer, which is among those
+which he used as the close of life drew nigh, will show how much the
+progress of true religion among his people dwelt on his mind, when about
+to be taken from them:
+
+"My Lord God! if thou wilt deliver me from this miserable and wretched
+life, take me among thy chosen. Yet, not _my_ will, but _Thy_ will be
+done. Lord I commit my spirit unto Thee. Thou knowest how happy it were
+for me to be with Thee. But if Thou dost send me life and health, grant
+that I may more truly serve Thee.
+
+"Oh my God! save thy people, and bless thine inheritance. Preserve thy
+chosen realm of England, and maintain Thy true religion, that both king
+and people may praise Thy holy name, for the sake of our Lord Jesus
+Christ."
+
+Edward Sixth died at the age of sixteen, July 6th, 1553, beloved and
+lamented by all over whom he had reigned.
+
+The historians of France record, with high encomium, the virtues of one
+of their princes, a son of Louis Fifteenth, who died before his father.
+He possessed a noble spirit, amiable manners, and in all the duties and
+sympathies of private life was so exemplary, that he was pronounced by
+national enthusiasm, "too perfect to continue on earth." He was
+exceedingly attentive to the education of his children, and vigilant in
+guarding them against the pride and arrogance of royalty. He continually
+endeavoured to impress upon their minds, that though they had been
+placed by Heaven in an elevated station, yet virtue and religion were
+the only true and enduring distinctions. His death, which was deeply
+mourned by the nation over which he had expected one day to rule, took
+place on the 20th of December, 1765, when he had just attained the age
+of thirty-seven years.
+
+He directed the preceptor of his children to take them to the abodes of
+the poor, and let them taste the coarsest bread, and lie down upon the
+hardest pallet, that they might know how the needy live, and learn to
+pity them.
+
+"Ah! suffer them also to weep," he would say, "for a prince who has
+never shed tears for the woes of others can never make a good king."
+
+    Yes, take them to the peasant's cot,
+      Where penury shrinks in pain and care,
+    Spread to their view the humblest lot,
+      And let them taste the coarsest fare,
+
+    And bid their tender limbs recline
+      Upon the hard and husky bed,
+    Where want and weary labour pine,
+      Diseased, unpitied, and unfed;
+
+    And let them weep; for if their eyes
+      With tender Pity ne'er o'erflow,
+    How will they heed their subjects' signs,
+      Or learn to feel a nation's woe?
+
+    Oh children! though your Maker's hand,
+      Hath mark'd for you a lofty sphere,
+    And though your welfare and command
+      Are now to partial Gallia dear;
+
+    Yet many a child from lowliest shed,
+      Whose peasant father turns the sod,
+    May in the righteous day of dread
+      Be counted _greater_ by his God.
+
+
+
+
+Evils of War.
+
+    "From whence come wars and fightings?" James, iv. 1.
+
+
+You will perhaps say they have been from the beginning. The history of
+every nation tells of the shedding of blood. In the Bible and other
+ancient records of man, we read of "wars and fightings," ever since he
+was placed upon the earth.
+
+Yet there have been always some to lament that the creatures whom God
+has made should thus destroy each other. They have felt that human life
+was short enough, without its being made still shorter by violence.
+Among the most warlike nations there have been wise and reflecting
+minds, who felt that war was an evil, and deplored it as a judgment.
+
+Rome was one of the most warlike nations of the ancient world. Yet three
+of her best Emperors gave their testimony against war, and were most
+reluctant to engage in it. Adrian truly loved peace, and endeavoured to
+promote it. He saw that war was a foe to those arts and sciences which
+cause nations to prosper. Titus Antoninus Pius tried to live in peace
+with every one. He did all in his power to prevent war, and said he
+would "rather save the life of one citizen, than destroy a thousand
+enemies." Marcus Aurelius considered war both as a disgrace and a
+calamity. When he was forced into it, his heart revolted.
+
+Yet these were heathen emperors. They had never received the Gospel,
+which breathes "peace and good-will to man." The law of Moses did not
+forbid war "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," was the maxim
+of the Jewish people. But the law of Jesus Christ is a law of peace. "I
+say unto you, that ye resist not evil," were the words not only of his
+lips, but of his example. His command to his disciples was, "See that ye
+love one another."
+
+The spirit of war, therefore, was not condemned by the Jewish law, or by
+the creeds of the heathen. But it is contrary to the spirit of the
+Gospel.
+
+Have you ever seriously considered the evil and sorrow of war? how it
+destroys the lives of multitudes, and makes bitter mourning in families
+and nations? You are sorry when you see a friend suffering pain, or a
+lame man with a broken bone, or even a child with a cut finger. But
+after a battle, what gashes and gaping wounds are seen, while the ground
+is red with the flowing blood, and the dying in their agony are trampled
+under the feet of horses, or covered with heaps of dead bodies.
+
+Think too of the poverty and distress that come upon many families, who
+have lost the friend whose labour provided them with bread, upon the
+mourning of gray-headed parents from whose feeble limbs the prop is
+taken away; upon the anguish of wives for their slaughtered husbands;
+and the weeping of children, because their dear fathers must return to
+them no more.
+
+All these evils, and many which there is not room to mention, come from
+a single battle. But in one war there are often many battles. Towns are
+sometimes burned, and the aged and helpless destroyed. The mother and
+her innocent babes perish in the flames of their own beloved homes.
+
+It is very sad to think of the cruelty and bad passions which war
+produces. Men, who have no cause to dislike each other, meet as deadly
+foes. They raise weapons of destruction, and exult to hear the groans of
+death. Rulers who make war, should remember the suffering and sin which
+it occasions, and how much more noble it is to save life than to destroy
+it.
+
+Howard visited the prisons of Europe, and relieved the miseries of those
+who had no helper, and died with their blessings on his head. Bonaparte
+caused multitudes to be slain, and multitudes to mourn, and died like a
+chained lion upon a desolate island. Is not the fame of Howard better
+than that of Bonaparte?
+
+The religious sect of Friends, or Quakers, as they are sometimes called,
+never go to war. The beautiful State of Pennsylvania was originally
+settled by them. William Penn, its founder, would not permit any discord
+with the Indians, its original inhabitants. He obtained the land of them
+by fair purchase, and set the example of treating them with justice and
+courtesy.
+
+In most of the other colonies there had been fearful wars with the
+savages. In ambush and massacre, the blood of the new-comers had been
+shed; and they had retaliated on the sons of the forest with terrible
+vengeance. Older States looked upon this proffer of peace as a dangerous
+experiment. They said, "These Quakers have put their heads under the
+tomahawk." But on the contrary, no drop of their blood was ever shed by
+the Indians in Pennsylvania. They gathered around William Penn with
+reverence and love. Rude warriors as they were, they admired his
+peaceful spirit. He explained his views to them with cordiality, and
+they listened to his words.
+
+"We will not fight with you," he said, "nor shed your blood. If a
+quarrel arise, six of our people and six of your own, shall meet
+together and judge what is right, and settle the matter accordingly."
+
+Subdued by his spirit of kindness and truth, they promised to live in
+peace with him and his posterity "so long as the sun and moon shall
+endure."
+
+On his return to England, among the friends who gathered around the ship
+to bid him farewell, were groups of Indians with mournful brows, the
+women holding up their little ones, that they might have one more sight
+of the great and good man, whom they called their Father. Was not this
+more acceptable to Heaven than the din of strife, and the false glory of
+the conqueror?
+
+So earnest was William Penn to convince his fellowmen that it was both
+their duty and privilege to live in peace, that he travelled into
+foreign countries for that purpose, using his eloquence, and knowledge
+of various languages with considerable success. Peter the Great, when
+studying the arts of civilization in England, was much interested by
+visits from this teacher of Peace, who conversed fluently with him in
+German. The young Czar listened with great attention and courtesy, while
+he unfolded his system. He then earnestly requested that it might be
+expressed for him in a few words, and William Penn wrote,
+
+"Men must be holy, or they cannot be happy; they should be few in words,
+peaceable in life, suffer wrongs, love enemies, and deny themselves:
+without which, faith is false; worship, formality, and religion,
+hypocrisy."
+
+The future Emperor of the Russians, though not a convert to the doctrine
+of the Quakers, regarded it with so much respect, that he repeatedly
+attended their meetings, evincing deep and interested attention. To his
+mind, the theory of peace seemed beautiful, yet he considered it
+impossible that wars should be prevented. He did not believe that
+contending nations could be made to settle their differences without an
+appeal to arms, or that their anger might be soothed by the mediation of
+a friendly people, as a good man makes peace between offended
+neighbours. It did not occur to him that a Christian ruler might mediate
+with the soothing policy of the patriarch Abraham to his wrathful
+kinsman:
+
+"Let there be no strife, I pray thee, between me and thee, or between my
+herdsmen and thy herdsmen, for we be brethren."
+
+
+
+
+The Liberated Fly.
+
+
+    A Fly was struggling in a vase of ink,
+    Which with my feathery quill-top I releas'd,
+    As the rope saves the drowning mariner.
+    I thought at first the luckless wight was dead,
+    But mark'd a quivering of the slender limbs,
+    And laid him on a paper in the sun,
+    To renovate himself.
+                          With sudden spasm
+    Convulsion shook him sore, and on his back
+    Discomfited he lay. Then, by his side
+    I strew'd some sugar, and upon his breast
+    Arrang'd a particle, thinking, perchance,
+    The odour of his favourite aliment
+    Might stimulate the palate, and uncoil
+    The folded trunk.
+                       But, straight, a troop of friends
+    Gather'd around him, and I deem'd it kind
+    To express their sympathy, in such dark hour
+    Of adverse fortune. Yet, behold! they came
+    To forage on his stores, and rudely turn'd
+    And toss'd him o'er and o'er, to help themselves
+    With more convenience. Quite incens'd to see
+    Their utter want of pitying courtesy,
+    I drove these venal people all away,
+    And shut a wine-glass o'er him, to exclude
+    Their coarse intrusion.
+                             Forthwith, they return'd,
+    And through his palace peer'd, and, round and round
+    Gadding, admission sought: yet all in vain.
+    And so, a wondrous buzzing they set up,
+    As if with envy mov'd to see him there,
+    The untasted luxury at his very lips,
+    For which they long'd so much.
+                                    Then suddenly,
+    The prisoner mov'd his head, and rose with pain,
+    And dragg'd his palsied body slow along,
+    Marking out sinuous lines, as on a map,
+    Coast, islet, creek, and lithe promontory,
+    Blank as the Stygian ink-pool, where he plung'd
+    So foolishly. But a nice bath was made
+    In a small silver spoon, from which he rose
+    Most marvellously chang'd, stretching outright
+    All his six legs uncramp'd, and, opening wide
+    And shutting with delight his gauzy wings,
+    Seem'd to applaud the cleansing properties
+    Of pure cold water. Then with appetite,
+    He took the food that he had loath'd before;
+    And in this renovation of the life
+    Of a poor noteless insect, was a joy,
+    And sweet content, I never could have felt
+    From taking it away.
+                          Still let us guard,
+    For every harmless creature, God's good gifts
+    Of breath and being; since each beating heart
+    Doth hide some secret sense of happiness
+    Which he who treadeth out can ne'er restore.
+
+
+
+
+The Good Brother and Sister.
+
+
+Jacob Bicks was a native of Leyden, in Holland, and born in the year
+1657. His parents were religious, and gave strict attention to his early
+education, and their efforts were rewarded. He became tenderly
+conscientious, and in all his conduct sought to obey them and please
+God.
+
+When the plague raged in Holland, in 1664, he was seized with the fatal
+infection. At first he seemed drowsy and lethargic, but during his
+waking intervals, was observed to be engaged in prayer.
+
+"This," said he, "gives me comfort in my distress."
+
+Perceiving that he suffered pain, he was asked if he would like again to
+see the physician.
+
+"No," he earnestly answered, "I wish to have him no more. The Lord will
+help me, for I well know that He is about to take me to himself."
+
+"Dear child," said his father, "this grieves us to the heart."
+
+"Father," answered the meek sufferer, "let us pray. The Lord will be
+near for my helper."
+
+After prayer, he spoke with a stronger and more joyful voice, his
+parting words,
+
+"Come now, father and mother, come and kiss me, I feel that I am to die.
+Farewell, dear parents, farewell, dear sister, farewell all. Now shall I
+go to heaven, and to the holy angels. Remember ye not what is said by
+Jeremiah, 'Blessed is he who trusteth in the Lord.' I trust in Him, and
+lo! he blesseth me. 'Little children, love not the world, for it passeth
+away.' Away then with the pleasant things of the world, away with my
+toys, away with my books, in heaven I shall have a sufficiency of the
+true wisdom without them."
+
+"God will be near thee," said the father. "He shall uphold thee."
+
+"It is written," answered the child, "that He giveth grace unto the
+humble. I shall humble myself under His mighty hand, and He will lift me
+up."
+
+"Hast thou indeed, so strong a faith, my dear son?" asked the afflicted
+father.
+
+"Yes," said the dying boy, "He hath given me this strong faith in Jesus
+Christ. He that believeth on Him hath everlasting life, and shall
+overcome the wicked one. I believe in Jesus Christ, my Redeemer. He will
+never leave nor forsake me. He will give me eternal life. He will let me
+sing, 'Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth.'"
+
+Then, with his failing breath, they heard upon his lips the softly
+murmured prayer, "Lord, be merciful to me a poor sinner," as with a
+trusting smile his spirit passed away, just as he had completed his
+seventh year.
+
+His sister, Susanna, seven years older than himself, was smitten by the
+same terrible pestilence, a few weeks after his death. She had been from
+the beginning a child of great sweetness of disposition, attentive to
+her studies, and so faithful in her religious duties as to be considered
+an example for other young persons, and even for older Christians.
+
+Bending beneath the anguish of her disease, like a crushed and beautiful
+flower she sustained herself and comforted others with the words of
+that Blessed Book, in which was her hope.
+
+"If Thy law were not my delight, I should perish in this my affliction.
+Be merciful to me, oh Father! be merciful to me a sinner, according unto
+thy word."
+
+Fixing her eyes tenderly upon her mourning parents, she said,
+
+"Cast your burden upon the Lord. He shall sustain you. He will never
+suffer the righteous to be moved. Therefore, dearest mother, be
+comforted. He will cause all things to go well that concern you."
+
+Her mother answered with tears,
+
+"O, our dear child, God, by his grace, hath given me great comfort in
+thee, in thy religious temper, and thy great attention to reading the
+Scriptures, prayer, and pious discourse, edifying us as well as thyself.
+He, even He Himself, who gave thee to us, make up this loss, if it be
+His pleasure to take thee away."
+
+"Dear mother, though I must leave you, and you me, God will never leave
+either of us. Is it not written, Can a woman forget her child? Yea, she
+may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon
+the palms of my hands. Oh! most comfortable words, both for parents and
+child."
+
+Fatigued with speaking, she fell into a deep slumber, and on awaking,
+asked what day it was. She was told it was Sabbath morning.
+
+"Father, have you commended me to be remembered in the prayers of the
+Church?"
+
+"Yes, my daughter."
+
+"This comforts me. For I have learned to believe that the effectual
+fervent prayer of the righteous availeth much."
+
+She had a peculiarly warm and grateful love for her teachers and pastor,
+and a veneration for all ministers of the Gospel. She delighted to
+listen to their conversation wherever she met them, and counted any
+attention from them as an honour. But now, she would not consent that
+they should approach her, lest they might take the fearful disease that
+was hurrying her to the tomb.
+
+"I will not expose their valuable lives," she said. "I cast myself
+wholly upon the mercies of God. His word is my comforter."
+
+Her knowledge of the Scriptures was uncommon. She had committed large
+portions of it to memory, which gave hallowed themes to her meditation,
+and naturally mingled with her discourse in these solemn, parting
+moments.
+
+She felt a deep desire for the progress of true religion, whose worth
+she was now able more fully to appreciate than in the days of health.
+One morning, she was found bathed in tears, and when the cause was
+inquired, exclaimed,
+
+"Have I not cause to weep? Our dear minister was taken ill in his pulpit
+this morning, and went home very sick. Is it not a sign of God's
+displeasure against our country, when such a faithful pastor is
+smitten?"
+
+She had shed no tear for her own severe pains, but she bemoaned the
+sufferings of others, and the afflictions that threatened the Church. Of
+her own merits she entertained a most humble opinion, and would often
+repeat with deep feeling,
+
+"The sacrifices of God are a contrite heart. A broken and a contrite
+spirit He will not despise. I desire that brokenness of heart which
+flows from faith, and that faith which is built upon Christ, the only
+sacrifice for sin."
+
+Waking from a troubled sleep, she said in a faint voice,
+
+"O dear father, dear mother, how very weak I am."
+
+"God in his tender mercy," said the sorrowing parents, "strengthen your
+weakness."
+
+"Yea, this is my confidence. A bruised reed will He not break, and the
+smoking flax will He not quench."
+
+Her parents, surprised and moved at a piety so far beyond her years,
+could not refrain from a strong burst of tears at the affliction that
+awaited them in her loss. Greatly grieved at their sorrow, she soothed
+them and argued with them against its indulgence.
+
+"Oh! why should you so weep over me? Is it not the good Lord that takes
+me out of this miserable world? Shall it not be well with me, through
+all eternity? Ought you not to be satisfied, seeing God is in heaven,
+and doeth whatsoever he pleaseth? Do you not pray every day, that His
+will may be done? Should we not be content when our prayers are
+answered? Is not extreme sorrow murmuring against Him? Although I am
+struck with this sad disease, yet because it is His will, let that
+silence us. For as long as I live, shall I pray, that _His will, and not
+mine_, be done."
+
+She then spoke of the plague that was raging throughout the country with
+violence, and said she chose to consider it as the especial allotment of
+the Almighty, and not, as some supposed, the result of disorder in the
+elements. After a pause, she added,
+
+"This is the day appointed for explaining the first question in the
+Catechism. Were I able to meet with the class, I should hear, that
+whether in life or death, a true believer is the Lord's. Then be
+comforted, for whether I live or die, I am his. Oh! why do you afflict
+yourselves so? Yet, with weeping came I into this world, and with
+weeping must I go out. But, dear parents, better is the day of my death,
+than the day of my birth."
+
+She requested her father to go to those who had instructed her in
+religion, and catechized her, and thank them in the name of a dying
+child, and tell them how precious was the memory of their words, now in
+the time of her extreme distress. She desired, also, that her gratitude
+might be expressed to those who had taught her, when very young, to read
+and work, and to all who had at any time shown her kindness and
+attention. When he told her of the satisfaction he had enjoyed in her
+proficiency in the various branches she had pursued, especially in her
+study of the Bible, her readiness to express her thoughts in writing,
+her constant filial obedience, and reverence for the ordinances of
+religion, she replied with a touching humility and sweetness,
+
+"I bless God for granting me the means of education, and the example of
+such parents and ministers. This is a far better portion than gold, for
+thus have I been enabled to comfort myself from His Holy Book, with a
+comfort that the world could never have afforded."
+
+"My child," said her mournful father, "I perceive that you are very
+weak."
+
+"It is true, Sir, and my weakness increases. I see that your affliction
+also, increases, and this is a part of my affliction. Yet be content, I
+pray you, and let us both say with David, 'Let me now fall into the hand
+of the Lord, for his mercies are great.'"
+
+She besought her parents not to indulge in immoderate grief, when she
+should be taken away. She adduced the example of the King of Israel, who
+after the death of his child, arose, and took refreshment, saying, "He
+is dead. Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not
+return to me." So ought you to say, when I am no longer here, 'Our
+child is well.' Dear mother, who has done so much for me, promise me
+this one thing before I die, not to sorrow too much for me. I am afraid
+of your great affliction. Consider other losses. Remember Job. Forget
+not what Christ foretold: 'In the world ye shall have tribulation, but
+be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.'"
+
+While thus comforting those whom she loved out of the Scriptures, it
+seemed as if she herself attained greater confidence of faith, for she
+exclaimed with a joyful voice:
+
+"Who shall separate me from the love of Christ? I am persuaded, neither
+life, nor death, nor angels, principalities, nor powers, nor things
+present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other
+creature. Behold, Death is swallowed up in victory."
+
+Afterwards, she spoke of the shortness of human life, quoting passages
+from the Bible, and of the necessary law of our nature, appointing that
+all who are born must die. Wisdom far beyond her years, flowed from her
+lips, for she had early sat at the feet of Jesus, and learned his holy
+word.
+
+"And now, what shall I say? I cannot continue long, for I feel much
+weakness. O Lord, look upon me graciously, have pity upon me. I know
+that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon
+the earth. Dearest parents, we must shortly part. My speech faileth me.
+Pray for a quiet close to my combat."
+
+She expressed, at various times during her sickness, the most earnest
+solicitude for the souls of many of her relatives, solemnly requesting
+and enforcing that her young sister should be religiously educated.
+Throwing her emaciated arms around her, she embraced her with great
+affection, and desired that the babe of six months old might be brought
+her once more. With many kisses she took her last farewell, and those
+who stood around the bed were greatly affected at the tender parting of
+these affectionate children.
+
+"I go," said the dying one, "to heaven, where we shall find each other
+again. I go to Jesus Christ. I go to my dear brother, who did so much
+cry and call upon God, to the last moment of his breath. I go to my
+little sister, who was but three years old when she died. Yet when we
+asked her if she would die, she answered, 'Yes, if it be the Lord's
+will: or I will stay with my mother, if it be His will; but yet, I know
+that I shall die and go to heaven and to God.' Oh! see how so small a
+babe could behave itself so submissively to the will of God, as if it
+had no will of its own. Therefore, dear father and mother, give the Lord
+thanks for this his free and rich grace: and then I shall the more
+gladly be gone. Be gracious, then, O Lord, unto me, also: be gracious
+unto me. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my
+sin."
+
+Prayer was offered for her, and her spirit seemed anew refreshed with a
+sense of pardon and reconciliation to her Father in heaven. She
+conversed with pleasure of the last sermon that she had been permitted
+to hear in the house of God, little supposing at that time, her mortal
+sickness was so near. With surprising accuracy, she quoted several texts
+that had been used in the different parts of that discourse, proving
+with what profound attention she had listened, and how perfectly her
+retentive powers were preserved to the last.
+
+She lay some time, absorbed in mental devotion, and then raising her
+head from her feverish pillow, besought her parents to forgive the
+errors of her childhood, and every occasion throughout her whole life,
+wherein she had grieved them or given them trouble. Then, with a clear
+judgment, she addressed herself to the only unfinished business of
+earth, the distribution of her books and other articles that she had
+considered her own. To her little brother she made an earnest request,
+that he would never part with the copy of 'Lectures on the Catechism,'
+that she gave him, but study it faithfully for her sake, and in
+remembrance of her. Being seized with a sharp and severe pain in her
+breast, she said that she felt assured her last hour drew nigh. Her
+parents, suppressing their grief, repeated their hope and trust, that
+God would support her in the last dread extremity.
+
+In a dying voice, yet clear and animated by unswerving faith, she
+replied,
+
+"He is my shepherd. Though I walk through the dark valley of the shadow
+of death, shall I fear when _He_ comforteth me? The sufferings of this
+present life are not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be
+revealed.
+
+My end approacheth. Now shall I put on white raiment, and be clothed
+before the Lamb with a spotless righteousness. Angels are ready to carry
+me to the throne of God." Her last words were,
+
+"Lord God, into thy hands, I commend my spirit. Oh Lord! be gracious, be
+merciful to me a poor sinner."
+
+Thus fell asleep, on the evening of the first of September, 1664, at the
+early age of fourteen, one, who for profound knowledge of the pages of
+Inspiration, judgment in applying them, love of their spirit, and faith
+in their promises, might serve as an example not only to those of her
+own age, but to Christians of hoary hairs. This good brother and sister
+teach, both in life and death, the priceless value of religious nurture,
+and of the fear and love of God, infused into the tender truthful
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+The Waiting Child.
+
+
+    She lay, in childhood's sunny hour,
+      The loving and the fair,
+    A smitten bud, a drooping flower,
+      For death was with her there.
+
+    One only unfulfilled desire
+      Oppress'd her heart with care:
+    "Make smooth the ocean waves, dear Lord,
+      And home my mother bear."
+
+    Up rose that prayer, both night and day,
+      Heaven heard the tender claim,
+    The favour'd ship its haven found,
+      The absent mother came;
+
+    So then, like dove with folded wing.
+      Enwrapp'd in calm content,
+    A mother's kiss upon her lips,
+      She to her Saviour went.
+
+
+
+
+The Adopted Niece.
+
+
+Those who have extended to lonely orphan hearts the protection of home,
+and a fostering kindness, are often repaid by the most tender and
+grateful affections. A peculiarly striking instance of this kind
+occurred in the case of an adopted niece of the Rev. John Newton, of
+London, England. Suddenly bereaved of her parents and an only brother,
+she found the arms of sympathizing relatives open to receive her, as a
+trust and a treasure. She had just entered her twelfth year when she
+came to them, and was possessed of an agreeable person, a lively
+disposition, with a quick and inventive genius. Her judgment and sense
+of propriety were advanced beyond her years, but her most endearing
+qualities were sweetness of temper and a heart formed for the exercise
+of gratitude and friendship. No cloud was seen upon her countenance, and
+when it was necessary to overrule her wishes, she acquiesced with a
+smile.
+
+To her uncle and aunt, her returns of affection were ardent and
+touching. She was watchful not to offend, or interfere with their
+convenience in the slightest degree, and often said, with her peculiarly
+sweet tones, "I should be very ungrateful if I thought any pleasure
+equal to that of pleasing you."
+
+Her health, which had been for some time frail, began, in a year or
+two, sensibly to decline, with marked hectic symptoms. Whenever she was
+able, she patiently employed herself with her needle or book, her guitar
+or harpsichord. Though she knew no hour of perfect ease, she was
+remarkably placid and cheerful, and attentive to the wishes and comfort
+of others. If at any time the severity of pain caused a silent tear to
+steal down her cheek, and she saw that her uncle or aunt observed it,
+she would instantly turn to them with a smile or kiss, and say,
+
+"Do not be uneasy. I am not so very ill. I can bear it. I shall be
+better presently."
+
+Her religious education had been early attended to by her parents; and
+the excellent relatives who supplied their place, saw with the deepest
+gratitude the strengthening of her faith, for support in the season of
+trial. She said to her aunt,
+
+"I have long and earnestly sought the Lord, with reference to the change
+that is now approaching. I trust He will fit me for himself, and then,
+whether sooner or later, it signifies but little."
+
+Sufferings the most acute were appointed her, which medical skill was
+unwearied in its attempts to mitigate. To her attentive physician who
+expressed his regret one morning, at finding her more feeble than on the
+previous day, she replied,
+
+"I trust all will be well soon."
+
+Her spirit was uniformly peaceful, and her chief attention of an earthly
+nature seemed directed to the consolation of those who were distressed
+at her sufferings. The servants, who waited on her from love, both night
+and day, she repeatedly thanked in the most fervent manner, adding her
+prayer that God would reward them. To her most constant attendant, she
+said,
+
+"Be sure to call upon the Lord. If you think He does not hear you now,
+He will at last. So it has been with me."
+
+As the last hours of life drew nigh, she had many paroxysms of agony.
+But her heart rested on the Redeemer. To one who inquired how she was,
+she sweetly answered,
+
+"Truly happy. And if this is dying, it is a pleasant thing to die."
+
+In the course of her illness, to the question of her friends if she
+desired to be restored and to live long, she would reply, "Not for the
+world," and sometimes, "Not for a thousand worlds." But as she
+approached the verge of heaven, her own will seemed wholly absorbed in
+the Divine Will, and to this inquiry she meekly answered,
+
+"I desire to have no choice."
+
+For the text of her funeral sermon, she chose, "Blessed are the dead who
+die in the Lord," and also selected an appropriate hymn to be sung on
+that occasion. "Do not weep for me, dear aunt," she tenderly said, "but
+rather rejoice, and give praise on my account."
+
+As the close of her last day on earth approached, she desired to hear
+once more the voice of prayer. Her affectionate uncle, who cherished for
+her the love of a father, poured out his soul fervently at the Throne of
+Grace. Her lips, already white in death, clearly pronounced "Amen," and
+soon after added, "Why are his chariot-wheels so long in coming? Yet I
+hope he will enable me to wait His hour with patience."
+
+Fixing her eyes on her mourning aunt, it seemed as if the last trace of
+earthly anxiety that she was destined to feel, was on her account. To
+one near her pillow, she said in a gentle whisper.
+
+"Try to persuade my aunt to leave the room. I think I shall soon sleep.
+I shall not remain with you until the morning."
+
+No. Her morning was to be where there is no sunset. All pain was for her
+ended. So quiet was the transition, that those whose eyes were fixed
+earnestly upon her, could not tell when she drew her last breath. She
+lay as if in childlike slumber, her cheek reclining upon her hand, and
+on her brow a smile.
+
+She died on the 6th of October, 1785, at the age of fourteen years.
+During her short span, she communicated a great amount of happiness to
+those who adopted her as a child into their hearts and homes. The sweet
+intercourse and interchange of love more than repaid their cares.
+
+They were permitted to aid in her growth of true religion, and to see
+its calm and glorious triumph over the last great enemy. That a child,
+under fifteen, should have been enabled thus to rejoice amid the wasting
+agony of sickness, and thus willingly leave those whom she loved, and
+whose love for her moved them to do all in their power to make life
+pleasant to her young heart, proves the power of a Christian's faith.
+
+She desired to be absent from the body, that she might be present with
+the Lord. Now, before his Throne, whom not having seen, she loved, and
+raised above the clouds that break in tears, and all shafts of pain and
+sorrow, she drinks of the rivers of pleasure that flow at his right
+hand, and shall thirst no more.
+
+
+
+
+The Orphan.
+
+
+    I love 'mid those green mounds to stray
+      Where purple violets creep,
+    For there the village children say
+      That both my parents sleep.
+
+    Bright garlands there I often make
+      Of thyme and daisies fair,
+    And when my throbbing temples ache,
+      I go and rest me there.
+
+    If angry voices harshly chide,
+      Or threatening words are said,
+    I love to lay me by their side
+      Close in that silent bed.
+
+    I wish'd a sportive lamb to bide
+      My coming o'er the lea.
+    It broke away and bleating cried,
+      "My mother waits for me."
+
+    "Stay, stay, sweet bird!" On pinion strong
+      It fled with dazzling breast,
+    And soon I heard its matron song
+      Amid its chirping nest.
+
+    "Why dost thou fade, young bud of morn,
+      And hide thy drooping gem?"
+    And the bud answered, "They have torn
+      Me from my parent stem."
+
+    Go happy warbler to thy bower,
+      White lambkin, gambol free,
+    I'll save this lone and wither'd flower,
+      It seems to pity me.
+
+    "Come mother, come! and soothe thy child!"
+      Methinks I hear her sigh,
+    "Cold clods are on my bosom pil'd,
+      And darkness seals my eye."
+
+    She cannot burst the chain of fate
+      By which her limbs are pressed.
+    "Dear father rise! and lift the weight
+      That loads my mother's breast."
+
+    In vain I speak, in vain the tear
+      Bedews the mouldering clay,
+    My deep complaint they do not hear,
+      I may not longer stay.
+
+    Yet ere I go, I'll kneel and say
+      The humble prayer they taught,
+    When by their side at closing day
+      I breath'd my infant thought.
+
+    God will not leave my heart to break,
+      The Orphan He'll defend,
+    Father and mother may forsake,
+      But He's the Unchanging Friend.
+
+
+
+
+The Only Son.
+
+
+How deep and full of anxiety is the love that centres upon an only
+child, none but parents who have watched over such an one can realise.
+"We trusted our all to _one_ frail bark," says a touching epitaph, "and
+the wreck was total."
+
+Those who have neither brother nor sister, and feel the whole tenderness
+of parental affection centring in themselves, should strive to render in
+proportion to what they receive. The care and solicitude that might have
+been divided among other claimants is reserved for them alone. No common
+measure of obedience and gratitude, and love, seems to be required of
+them. Any failure in filial duty is, in them, an aggravated offence. It
+should be the study of their whole life to appreciate, if they cannot
+repay, the wealth of love of which they are the sole heirs.
+
+Perhaps there has never been an instance, where this sweet indebtedness
+of the heart was more beautifully and perfectly reciprocated, than in
+the life of Joshua Rowley Gilpin. He was the only son of the Rev. J.
+Gilpin, of Wrockwardine, in the county of Salop, England, and born
+January 30th, 1788. During infancy, when the texture of character
+slowly, yet surely discovers itself, he displayed a mild, loving
+disposition, with no propensity to anger when what he desired was
+withheld. The sole care of his education was assumed by his parents, who
+found it a source of perpetually increasing delight.
+
+His first infantine taste was for drawing. To imitate the forms of
+animals, and other objects with which he was daily conversant, gave him
+much pleasure. His friends discovered in these rude attempts, accuracy
+of execution, and progressive improvement. A dissected alphabet was
+among his toys, and a desire to furnish his little drawings with
+appropriate letters induced him to make himself master of it. Now a new
+field of pleasure opened to his mind, and from the amusements of the
+pencil he turned to the powers and combination of the letters; and at
+the age when many children are unacquainted with their names, he was
+forming them into phrases and short sentences. These were sometimes
+playful, and sometimes of such a devotional cast, that his watchful and
+affectionate parents cheered themselves with the hope that his tender
+spirit was even then forming an acquaintance with things divine. So
+docile, so industrious, so gentle was the young pupil, that they had
+never occasion to resort to punishment, or even to address to him an
+expression of displeasure.
+
+As the higher branches of knowledge unfolded themselves, he devoted to
+them a studious and willing attention. He was ever cheerfully ready for
+any necessary exercise, and inclined rather to exceed than to fall short
+of his allotted task. He complained of no difficulty, he solicited no
+aid: the stated labours of each day he considered a reasonable service,
+and constantly and sweetly submitted his own will to that of his
+parents.
+
+In the prosecution of the different sciences, his lovely and placid
+disposition was continually displaying itself. The rudiments of the
+Latin tongue, with which he very early became familiar, he wished to
+teach to the young servant woman who attended him from his infancy. By
+many fair words he persuaded her to become his scholar. He told her of
+the great pleasure there was in knowledge, and left no method untried to
+gain and fix her attention. If he thought her not sufficiently engaged
+in the pursuit, he would set before her the honourable distinction of
+surpassing in intellectual attainments, all the other young women of her
+acquaintance. He made for her use an abridgment of his Latin grammar, to
+which he added a brief vocabulary, and was never without a few slips of
+paper in his pocket, on which was some noun regularly declined, or some
+verb conjugated, for his humble friend and pupil. If the services of the
+day had failed to afford her sufficient time for his lessons, he
+redoubled his assiduity when she conducted him to his chamber at night,
+and was never contented without hearing her repeat the Lord's Prayer in
+Greek. This perseverance showed not only the kindness of his heart, but
+his love for those parts of learning which childish students are prone
+to think tedious, or are desirous to curtail and escape.
+
+While busily pursuing classic studies, he saw one day a treatise on
+arithmetic, and immediately went to work on that untried ground. Such
+satisfaction did he find in it, that he begged to be allowed the same
+exercise whenever he should be at a loss for amusement. For three weeks
+it formed a part of his evening employment, or as he expressed it, his
+"entertainment," and during that brief period, he proceeded to the
+extraction of the square and cube root, with ease and pleasure. His
+father thought it best to withdraw him at that time from the science of
+numbers, lest it should interfere with his progress in the languages.
+Still, he would occasionally surprise him with abstruse numerical
+calculation, and, when permitted regularly to pursue mathematics, found
+in the difficult problems of Euclid an intense delight. He would
+willingly have devoted days and nights to them, and no youth was ever
+more intent on the perusal of a fairy tale or romance, than he to solve
+and demonstrate those propositions in their regular order.
+
+Under the tuition of his father, he went through the text-books and
+authors used in the established seminaries, and probably with a less
+interrupted attention than if he had been a member of their classes. His
+memory was durably retentive, and whatever passage he could not
+perfectly repeat, he could readily turn to, whether in the writings of
+the poets, the historians, or the divines. His accuracy was admirable;
+he would never pass over a sentence till he had obtained a satisfactory
+view of its meaning, or lay aside a book without forming a critical
+acquaintance with its style and scope of sentiment. Earnest and untiring
+industry was one of the essential elements of his great proficiency;
+employment was to him the life of life, and whatsoever his hand found to
+do, was done with a whole-souled energy. His love of order was equal to
+his diligence. From early childhood, he discovered in all his little
+undertakings an attention to method, and a desire to finish what he
+began. These dispositions gathered strength as he became more fully
+acquainted with the importance of time. To each employment or recreation
+he assigned its proper place and season, filling each day with an
+agreeable and salutary variety, so as to be free on one side from
+listlessness and apathy, and on the other, from perplexity and haste.
+Highly gratifying was his improvement to his faithful parental teachers,
+and this species of intercourse heightened and gave a peculiar feature
+to their mutual love. Still, their attention was not confined to his
+intellectual attainments. It was their constant prayer and endeavour,
+that he might be enabled to blend with these the "wisdom that cometh
+from above." Anxious that he should not be unprepared for the honourable
+discharge of duty in the present life, they were far more solicitous to
+train him up as a candidate for glory in that which is to come.
+
+Avoiding the danger of over-pressing or satiating him with theological
+doctrines which transcend the comprehension of childhood, they commenced
+their religious instructions with the greatest simplicity and caution.
+They put on no appearance of formality or austerity.
+
+"We will show you, my dear son," said the father, with a smiling
+countenance, "a way that will lead you from earth to heaven."
+
+The gentle pupil listened with an earnest attention. His tender mind was
+solemnized, yet filled with joyful and grateful hope. At his first
+introduction to the house of God, he was filled with reverential awe,
+and ever afterwards, when attending its sacred services, his deportment
+evinced the most unaffected decorum, humility, and piety. The greatest
+care was taken that the observance of the Sabbath at home, as well as in
+church, should be accounted a sweet and holy privilege.
+
+"On that day," says his father, "we gave a more unlimited indulgence to
+our affectionate and devotional feelings. We conversed together as parts
+of the same Christian family, we rejoiced over each other as heirs of
+the same glorious promises. Some interesting passage of Scripture, or
+some choice piece of divinity, generally furnished the matter of our
+discourse, and while we endeavoured to obtain a clear, comprehensive
+view of the subject before us, it seemed as if a blessed light
+sometimes broke in upon us, removing our doubts, exalting our
+conceptions, and cheering our hearts. Then, with one consent, we have
+laid aside the book, that we might uninterruptedly admire the beauties
+of the opening prospect. Thus solacing ourselves with a view of our
+future enjoyments, and the place of our final destination, we have
+solemnly renewed our vows, resolving for the joy that was set before us,
+to endure the Cross, despising the shame, in humble imitation of our
+adorable Master. In such a frame of mind we found it possible to speak
+of probable sufferings, or painful separations, with the utmost
+composure. With such a termination of our course in sight, we could
+cheerfully leave all the casualties of that course to the Divine
+disposal; fully persuaded that whatever evil might befall us on the way,
+an abundant compensation for all awaited us on our arrival at home."
+
+As he advanced in boyhood, his love of study and sedentary habits became
+so strong that it was feared he might not take sufficient exercise for
+the preservation of health. The friends of the family, therefore,
+urgently advised that he might be placed in a public school, hoping that
+the influence of companions of his own age would allure him to athletic
+sports.
+
+In this counsel his parents acquiesced, but finding the idea of
+separation insupportably painful, they removed, and took a temporary
+residence near the Seminary of which he became a member. Here, every
+thing was novel, and his enthusiastic mental picture of what a school
+must be, was considerably darkened by discovering so much indolence and
+irregularity, where he supposed all would be order, intelligence, and
+progress. His academic exercises were performed with entire ease, so
+thorough and extensive had been his home culture; and though there were
+many in the different classes who were his seniors in age, he rapidly
+rose to the first and highest place. Of this post he had not been
+ambitious, and he occupied it with such modesty and affability, so as to
+conciliate his school-fellows, between whom and himself there was still
+such diversity of habit and feeling, as to repress all familiarity of
+intercourse. But with his instructors, a true and reciprocal friendship
+was established. Especially did the head master distinguish the talents
+of the young student with the strongest marks of esteem, designating him
+as the "pride of his school, and the pride of his heart."
+
+The return of this excellent family to their beloved village, formed a
+delightful scene. An affectionate flock thronged to welcome their
+Pastor, while the youth on whose account they had for a time left their
+endeared habitation, gazed with unutterable joy on the trees, the
+cottages, the cliffs that varied the spot of his nativity, on every room
+in the parsonage, every plant in the garden, every vine that clasped the
+walls, and on the far blue hills, behind which he had watched from
+infancy the glories of the setting sun. To the congratulations of his
+friends, some of which alluded to the brilliancy of his prospects as a
+distinguished scholar, he replied with ineffable sweetness,
+
+"No possible change in my situation can make any addition to my present
+happiness."
+
+The love of home was one of the strongest features in his character. The
+vanities and gayeties of London had no power to diminish or modify it.
+After passing two months there, at the age of sixteen, he came to his
+retired abode with the same delight, the same unassuming manners and
+simplicity of taste. On entering the secluded vale where their humble
+rural habitation was situated, he expressed his feelings in a few
+extempore Latin verses, which at the request of his mother, were thus
+translated,
+
+    "Lives there a youth, who far from home,
+    Through novel scenes exults to roam?
+    Then let the restless vagrant go,
+    And idly pass from show to show;
+    While in my native village bless'd,
+    Delighted still, and still at rest,
+    Without disturbance or alloy,
+    Life's purest pleasures I enjoy."
+
+While thus bearing in his bosom the elements of happiness, true piety,
+active goodness, and love to all creatures, and while diligently
+preparing for the sacred profession to which he was destined, a sudden
+attack of pulmonary disease, attended with hemorrhage, alarmed those to
+whom he was dear. But the consequent debility readily yielded to medical
+treatment, and a journey and residence of several weeks amid the pure
+atmosphere and rural scenery of Wales, combining with uncommon salubrity
+of weather, seemed to restore the gentle invalid to his usual state of
+health.
+
+He was able again to resume his course of academic studies, and after
+the midsummer vacation, which he spent in a pleasant journey with his
+beloved parents, was summoned to sustain an examination as a candidate
+for two vacant exhibitions. When he took his seat before the collegiate
+tutors, clergy, magistrates, and a concourse of assembled visitors, a
+degree of that diffidence was observable, which is so often the
+concomitant of genius. But in every exercise and test of knowledge, he
+was so self-possessed, so prompt, so perfect, that there was an
+unanimous burst of approbation and applause. His parents were loaded
+with congratulations for possessing the treasure of such a son, and a
+paper signed by all present was addressed to the manager of the Funds,
+requesting that the sum allotted to a successful candidate might be
+doubled on account of his extraordinary attainments. With entire
+meekness he bore this full tide of honour, manifesting no satisfaction
+in hearing his own praises, and after his return home, never made the
+most distant allusion to this flattering event in the life of a young
+student. He was now entered a fellow-commoner at Christ Church College,
+Oxford, with the intention of not taking his residence there till the
+commencement of the ensuing term.
+
+He most assiduously devoted himself to his studies, rising early and
+finding the day too short for his active mind. Knowledge was dear to him
+for its own sake, and not for the flattering distinctions accorded to it
+among men: for while advancing in scholastic acquirements, he was
+evidently an humble peaceful student in the school of Christ. His
+parents were comforted amid the painful prospect of separation, with the
+hope that from his early and growing piety, his temperance and modesty,
+his untiring diligence, and a certain firmness of mind, of which he had
+given indisputable evidence, he would in time of temptation choose the
+good, and refuse the evil.
+
+In the meantime, his birth-day arrived, the last that he was to spend on
+earth. It had ever been their household custom to mark it, not by
+sumptuous entertainments or the invitation of guests, but by expressions
+of affection among themselves, and the most fervent ascriptions of
+praise to God, for the gift he had accorded and preserved. But it seems
+that their sacred anniversary had been discovered and was cherished by
+others. While interchanging their sweet and secluded memorials of love,
+a letter arrived addressed to the young student, containing a large
+number of banknotes, "as a joint token of the affection of a few
+friends, who desired permission to repeat the same expression of their
+regard on each return of his natal day, until he should have taken his
+first degree at the University."
+
+This unexpected mark of the high esteem in which he was held, was
+received by him with strong indications of astonishment and gratitude.
+As the time drew near for his departure to Oxford, his parents could
+scarcely be restrained from uttering the impassioned words, "Entreat me
+not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee, for where
+thou goest I will go, where thou lodgest I will lodge;" not knowing that
+it was the appointment of God, that only the cold hand of death should
+divide them.
+
+Spring approached, and the wound in his lungs, which it had been hoped
+was permanently healed, burst forth afresh. Aggravated by the influenza,
+then an epidemic, it soon took the form of an incurable malady. With
+entire submission he met this sudden change in his state and prospects.
+No murmuring word was uttered, no trace of anxiety visible on his
+countenance. Neither loss of appetite nor decay of strength could impair
+his settled composure of mind. So admirable was the mixture of meekness
+and manliness in his deportment, that it was difficult to say whether
+patience or fortitude most predominated.
+
+Constantly advancing in the knowledge of divine things, he withdrew
+himself from every pursuit that might divert his thoughts from the great
+end of his being, the entrance to a higher state of existence. The poets
+and orators of Greece and Rome, in which his proficiency had been so
+great, were meekly exchanged for works of experimental religion; and he
+sat daily at the feet of some master in Israel, from whose teachings he
+hoped to gain heavenly wisdom. By the advice of physicians, the scene
+was changed for a short time; but wherever they journeyed he was still
+making his solitary passage through the valley of the shadow of death.
+As the last hope of success, the waters of Bristol were proposed; and
+though he at first mildly resisted it, from an inward conviction that
+the trouble would be in vain, yet unwilling to crush the expectations of
+his beloved parents, he yielded to their wishes. On all similar
+occasions he had required quite a package of books; now he requested
+only an English Bible and a Greek Testament.
+
+Notwithstanding every precaution of medical skill and care, consumption
+was accomplishing its fatal work. The parents and their only child,
+though convinced of what the result must be, still shrank back from
+harrowing up each other's feelings, by full conversation on the subject
+that most occupied their thoughts.
+
+"As it was with Elijah and his attached successor," writes the sorrowing
+father, "at their approaching separation, so it was with us. They
+maintained towards each other a delicate reserve, as they proceeded from
+Bethel to Jericho, and from Jericho to Jordan; the one not daring to
+glory in his expected ascension, nor the other to express his mournful
+forebodings, lest they might mutually agitate the other, or disturb the
+order of the holy solemnity. But as the awful moment drew near and he
+was about to be gone, Elijah rose above the weakness of humanity, and
+openly asserted the purpose of Heaven. Thus the dear invalid, when made
+certain by some invisible token that his hour was at hand, thought it
+unsuitable to our common character to leave this world without giving
+glory to God."
+
+With entire tranquillity and the utmost tenderness, he introduced the
+subject of his departure, spoke of his trust in his Redeemer, his
+gratitude for the goodness and mercy that had followed him throughout
+the whole of his earthly pilgrimage, and the joy he felt in having his
+own will perfectly bowed to the will of God. Even then, the last
+messenger was waiting for him. He accepted the anxious attentions of his
+agonized parents with ineffable sweetness, regarding them with a
+thoughtful benignity, not wholly restraining his feelings, nor yet
+allowing them a free indulgence.
+
+It was in the autumn of 1806, at the age of eighteen, that his last day
+on earth closed. He lay as in calm and beautiful repose, seeming to have
+opened a communication with the celestial world, and fully resigned
+himself to intercourse with its unseen inhabitants. Kneeling around his
+couch in trembling expectation, were those whose sole earthly hopes had
+been bound up in him. There was a short and solemn pause, a few soft
+moans, and then, without the slightest change of posture, he peacefully
+breathed out his soul into the bosom of his Father and his God.
+
+
+
+
+Life.
+
+
+    Life is beautiful! its duties
+      Cluster round each passing day,
+    While their sweet and solemn voices spot
+      Warn to work, to watch, to pray;
+    They alone its blessings forfeit
+      Who by sin their spirits cheat,
+    Or to slothful stupor yielding,
+      Let the rust their armour eat.
+
+    Life is beautiful! affections
+      Round its roots with ardour cling,
+    'Mid its opening blossoms nestle,
+      Bird-like, in its branches sing,
+    Smiling lull its cradle slumbers,
+      Guard with pride its youthful bloom,
+    Fondly kiss its snow-white temples,
+      Dew the turf-mound o'er its tomb.
+
+    Life is beautiful with promise
+      Of a joy that cannot fade,
+    Life is fearful, with the threatening
+      Of an everlasting shade.
+    May no thoughtless wanderer scorn it,
+      Blindly lost in folly's maze,
+    Duty, love, and hope adorn it:
+      Let its latest breath be praise.
+
+
+
+
+A Remarkable Child.
+
+
+The child of whose virtues and attainments the following pages give but
+an imperfect sketch, was the son of the late Dr. J. Smyth Rogers, and
+born in the city of New York, on the 28th of January, 1825. The beauty
+of his infancy struck every observer, and this continued to increase as
+added intelligence lighted up his noble features. As his brilliant mind
+expanded, amiable and generous dispositions were revealed, clothed with
+peculiarly winning manners. It would seem also that these graces and
+virtues, like wreaths of bright buds, and clusters of rich fruit, sprang
+from the best of all roots: a truthful and pious heart.
+
+At the early age of three years, his excellent mother was suddenly taken
+away. That mournful event made a deep impression upon his unfolding
+character. For three years she had been permitted to watch over this
+fair opening flower; in three more it was to be laid on her bosom in
+heaven.
+
+The night after the death of this beloved parent, his deportment was
+remarked as evincing a degree of reflection and sensibility to the
+magnitude of his loss, surpassing what is usually seen in infancy. It
+was Sabbath evening, the period in which she had been accustomed to
+gather her little ones around her, and impart religious instruction.
+Now, at the fireside, the happy circle was broken: the blessed mother's
+seat vacant. He yearned for her sweet smile, the sound of her tuneful
+voice. Turning from the other children, he walked long by himself with a
+slow and noiseless step; often fixing his eyes on his bereaved father
+with an expression of the deepest commiseration. No attitude of grief
+escaped his mournful notice, and it seemed as if he restrained his own
+sorrow that he might offer consolation to his afflicted parent. That
+mingling of perfect sympathy with the exceeding beauty of his infant
+countenance, neither pen nor pencil could adequately describe.
+
+But the early maturity of his heart was fully equalled by the
+development of his intellect. Before acquiring the elements of reading,
+he listened so attentively to the recitations of an elder brother and
+sister, as to become master of much correct information. His desire for
+knowledge was insatiable. He was sensible of no fatigue while employed
+in attaining it. Though fond of amusements, he was always happy to quit
+them when the allotted hours for study arrived. The rudiments of science
+he acquired with astonishing rapidity. Before the completion of his
+fourth year he could read any English book with ease, and also with a
+propriety and understanding of the varieties of style, not often
+discovered by students at twice his age. At this period he was expert in
+the simple rules of arithmetical calculation. With the geography of his
+own country, and with the outlines of that of the world, he was
+intimately acquainted. At five years old he was well versed both in
+ancient and modern geography. In mental arithmetic, many problems
+requiring thought even in mature and long disciplined minds, he solved
+readily, and as if with intuitive perception. Of the history of his own
+country, his knowledge was well digested and chronologically arranged.
+At the age of six years, he could with the greatest fluency give a
+judicious abstract of it, placing in due order the events connected with
+its discovery and settlement, the period of its several wars, their
+causes, results, and the circumstances by which they were modified. From
+the characters who were conspicuous in its annals, he evinced
+discrimination in selecting those most worthy of admiration. The
+biography of the celebrated John Smith he related with animation, often
+mentioning their similarity of name. In repeating his feats of heroism
+and endurance, he seemed to identify himself with the actor and to
+partake of his spirit. But he regarded with still higher enthusiasm the
+illustrious Pitt. When rehearsing his speech in favour of America, he
+would involuntarily add the most bold and graceful gestures. These lofty
+and noble sentiments seemed to awaken a warm response in his bosom, and
+to rule, as if with congenial force, the associations of thought and
+feeling.
+
+In the science of geometry he displayed a vigorous and highly
+disciplined mind, by the ready demonstration of some of its most
+difficult propositions. But in no attainment was the superiority of his
+intellect more clearly defined than in his acquisition of the Hebrew
+language. He commenced this pursuit when four years of age, at the
+suggestion of a cousin older than himself, to whose recitations he had
+attentively listened. Having been restrained by modesty for several days
+from mentioning his wishes, he at length ventured to ask his preceptor
+if he might be permitted to study Hebrew. Happy to gratify such a
+desire, he called him to his side, intending to teach him two or three
+letters, when he discovered, to his surprise, that he already knew the
+whole alphabet. From that time he continued to study the language with
+perseverance, and constantly increasing fondness. Soon, without aid,
+except from the grammar and lexicon, he could read, translate, and parse
+the Hebrew, with an elegance that might have done honour to an adept in
+that sacred language. Before his death he had read more than fifty
+chapters; and so great was his ardour and delight in prosecuting this
+study, that after having received two exercises daily, throughout the
+week, he would often be found on Sabbath with his Hebrew Bible,
+earnestly engaged in reviewing passages by himself. On one occasion,
+when his tutor was to be absent for a few days, he inquired, "How will
+you spend your time?" The prompt reply was, "In studying Hebrew." In
+Greek, also, he made such proficiency as to read the original of the New
+Testament with accuracy and ease. On every attainment, however difficult
+or abstruse, his genius seized, and almost without effort rendered it
+his own; so that this infant student seemed to adopt the sentiment of
+the great Bacon, and to "take all knowledge to be his province."
+
+Yet with these astonishing acquisitions there mingled no vanity, no
+consciousness of superior talent, nor distaste for the simplest
+pleasures of childhood. He had all the docility and playfulness that
+belong to the first years of life. In the delightful country residence
+where the family were accustomed to pass the summer months, those who
+saw him only at the period allotted to sport and exercise, would have
+remarked him as an exceedingly beautiful, vigorous, light-hearted boy,
+without imagining him possessed of accomplishments that might have put
+manhood to the blush. Amid a flow of animal spirits that were sometimes
+deemed excessive, he was never regardless of the feelings of others.
+During the active sports of childhood, if he received unintentional
+injury from his companions, he was anxious to assure them, by an
+affectionate kiss, of his recovery and reconciliation. He possessed the
+most lively and amiable sensibility. This was fully depicted upon his
+countenance, so that the most careless observer could scarcely have
+mistaken its lineaments. He ardently participated in the joys and
+sorrows of those around him. His love for his friends was testified by
+the most tender care for their accommodation and comfort. He was found
+one evening in a flood of tears, because he feared his teacher had gone
+out in the rain without great-coat or umbrella. So great was his
+generosity, that whatever was given him he desired to share with
+another. He seemed incapable of selfish gratification. When from
+delicacy of health his appetite had been long subjected to restraint, if
+a small portion of cake or fruit was allowed him, he was never satisfied
+until he had imparted it. He would even urge the domestics to
+participate in his gifts. On one occasion, after a period of abstinence
+from fruit, four grapes were given him. Two of these he ate, and saved
+the remaining two to give to his nurse. The merit of this self-denial
+was enhanced by the circumstance often remarked by the servants, that
+the nurse was far less fond of him than of his elder brother, who, from
+being more immediately under her care, was the object of her partiality.
+But there was nothing of vindictiveness in his nature. His generosity
+was as disinterested as it was unbounded.
+
+One morning his father testified approbation of his conduct by saying,
+"You may go into the garden and gather twelve strawberries." "And may I
+divide them equally?" he inquired with great animation. Amid a profusion
+of the finest fruits, for which he had an extreme fondness, and which
+he was accustomed to see hospitably dispensed to numerous guests, he
+would never transgress a prohibition to partake, or a limitation with
+regard to quantity. Obedience had been taught him from the beginning,
+and his fidelity in keeping the law of those who directed him, whether
+they were present or absent, was one of his prominent virtues. In the
+indispositions to which he was occasionally subject, he would cheerfully
+take the most unpleasant medicines, and submit to the most irksome
+regulations, if simply told that his father had desired it.
+
+Openness and integrity of character were conspicuous in him. He seemed
+to have nothing to conceal. He had no disposition to practise mischief,
+or to devise means that any thing which he had done should be kept
+secret from those who had the charge of his education. As his course of
+instruction was pursued entirely at home, he was preserved from the
+contagion of bad example, and from many temptations to deceit. The
+little faults which he committed he confessed with the utmost
+ingenuousness, and complied with the precept which had been early
+impressed upon him by parental care, to solicit the forgiveness of his
+Father in heaven, if he hoped to obtain that of his best friends on
+earth. When he received any punishment, he made immediate returns of
+penitence and affection. He considered it as the appointed way in which
+he was to be made better, and so far from indulging in complaint or
+sullenness, was inclined to think it lighter than he deserved.
+
+A tender and true piety pervaded his heart, and breathed its fragrance
+over a life as beautiful and transient as the flower of the grass.
+Accustomed from infancy never to neglect his prayers, morning or
+evening, and to keep the day of God sacred, he delighted in these
+exercises. To lay aside all implements of light amusement, and to read
+or hear only books adapted to that consecrated day, had been required of
+him from his earliest recollection. He was grieved if he saw any violate
+these injunctions. There seemed to have been laid in his heart a firm
+basis of Christian principle, on which he was beginning to rear a noble
+superstructure. He never discovered more ardent delight than while
+listening to the inspired pages, or greater brilliancy of intellect than
+when conversing on their doctrines and practical illustrations. The life
+and sufferings of the Redeemer, and the hopes held out to sinners
+through his mercy, were his treasured and favourite subjects. He often
+with great earnestness solicited instruction respecting them, and his
+absorbed and delighted attention would survive the endurance of his
+physical strength. Of religious books he was particularly fond. He
+conceived the strongest attachment for 'Doddridge's Family Expositor.'
+He would voluntarily resort to its perusal with the greatest apparent
+satisfaction. Observing that his cousin and sister received weekly
+lessons from that excellent volume, in the explanation of difficult
+passages, he said to his instructor with a mournful air, "You give the
+elder children a lesson in Doddridge, but you don't let me recite with
+them." He was told that it was probably too difficult an exercise for
+him, and that therefore he had not been permitted to join them. On being
+asked what he understood as the meaning of the expression, where John is
+said to come in the "spirit and power of Elias," and to "turn the hearts
+of the fathers to the children," he gave without mistake the two
+interpretations to which he had listened some time before. Thus, while
+this infant disciple was pursuing religious knowledge as a delightful
+and congenial study, he was also cherishing a lively sense of the
+obligations that it imposed. He received the truth in its love and in
+its power. It began to be within him a prompting and regulating
+principle. Whenever the full flow of childish spirits became excessive
+or ill-timed, they were restrained by suggesting a precept drawn from
+the Scriptures.
+
+Among his modes of recreation, riding on horseback in the freshness of
+the morning was highly enjoyed and prized. One morning, when the usual
+period for this exercise had been somewhat delayed, his tutor asked,
+"Would you like to take your ride?" and he replied, "I am afraid we
+shall not be back in time for prayers. So I would rather not go."
+
+Of his departed mother his recollections were tender and vivid. He
+delighted to speak of her as the habitant of a world of joy. His
+affectionate spirit seemed content to resign her that she might be with
+Christ. To a beloved relative, whose efforts for his religious
+instruction were unceasing, he said, soon after the death of his mother,
+"Aunt, do you not wish that the judgment day was come?" "Why, my son?"
+she enquired. "Because then I should see my _dear mamma_ and my blessed
+Saviour."
+
+The religious exercises of Sabbath evening were to him a season of high
+enjoyment. After the catechism and other appropriate duties, some book
+of piety was read, and the children indulged in such discourse as its
+contents naturally elicited. Piety, disrobed of gloom, was presented to
+them as an object of love, and by his heart was most fondly welcomed.
+
+On Sabbath evening preceding the Christmas of 1831, he was observed to
+enter with extreme ardour into the conversation that flowed from the
+perusal of 'Parlour Lectures,' an analysis of Sacred History adapted to
+juvenile minds. His father, whose labours in the pious nurture of his
+children had been as untiring as successful, being absent from the city,
+he drew his chair as near as possible to his aunt, listened eagerly to
+every remark, poured forth the rapturous pleasure that filled his
+breast, and desired to protract the enjoyment beyond its usual period.
+It was to be his last Sabbath on earth. In the course of the ensuing
+week he became a victim to the scarlet fever, and on Friday, December
+24th, 1831, went to his Father in heaven.
+
+Thus passed away, at the age of nearly seven years, a being formed to
+excel in all that was beautiful, intellectual, and heavenly. Precocity
+in him was divested of the evils that are wont to attend it. All his
+associations of thought were healthful and happy. There was no undue
+predominance of one power at the expense of the rest. No one department
+of character eclipsed the other. The mind and the heart pressed on
+together with equal steps, in a vigorous and holy brotherhood. The soul,
+like a lily, fed with dews of Hermon, breathed its first freshest
+incense in piety to God.
+
+That he was highly gifted by nature none can doubt. That he owed much to
+education is equally certain. It would be difficult to define the
+precise point where the influence of the one ceased and that of the
+other began; so finely did their hues and pencillings blend in the
+flower thus early offered to its Maker.
+
+Strict obedience to his superiors, and the duty of stated prayer, were
+so early impressed as to be incorporated with the elements of his
+character. Simple habits, rural tastes, control of the animal appetites,
+and correct deportment to all around him, were carefully inculcated,
+while a thorough course of classical instruction under his father's
+roof protected him from the dangers of promiscuous association and
+sinful example. The most favourable results might reasonably be
+anticipated from a system of culture so vigilant that temptation could
+not assail from without, nor spring up within, without being detected;
+so judicious that wealth had no power to enervate either the body or the
+mind; so affectionate that the tendrils of the heart were free to expand
+in innocent happiness; so faithful in its ministrations to the soul,
+that the Divine blessing seemed visibly to descend upon it. This wise
+discipline combining with the Creator's exceeding bounty, rendered him
+what he was: a being to be loved by all who looked upon him, and to be
+held in lasting remembrance by all who knew him.
+
+To borrow the expressive language of one who had long superintended his
+education, and was intimately acquainted with his mental and moral
+structure, "So insensible was he to all those passions which prompt to
+self-defence and self-protection, and so entirely under the influence of
+that forgiving spirit which being smitten on the one cheek would turn
+the other also, and that overflowing generosity, which, after the cloak
+is taken, would give the coat likewise, as utterly to unfit him for the
+society of selfish, avaricious, overbearing men, whence I have fondly
+thought, that he was thus early invited to a mansion where he might
+enjoy the communion of more congenial spirits."
+
+
+
+
+The Dying Sunday School Boy.
+
+
+    His hands were clasp'd, his eyelids clos'd,
+      As on his couch he lay,
+    While slumber seem'd to wrap the form
+      That pain had worn away:
+
+    But still the watching mother marked
+      His pallid lips to part,
+    As if some all-absorbing thought
+      Lay on his dreaming heart;
+
+    For yet he slept not. Silent prayer
+      Commun'd with God alone,
+    And then his glazing eyes he rais'd,
+      And spoke with tender tone:
+
+    "Oh mother! often in my class,
+      I've heard the teacher say,
+    That those who to the Saviour turn
+      He would not cast away;
+
+    And so, beside my bed I knelt
+      While early morn was dim,
+    Imploring Heaven to teach my soul
+      The way to turn to Him;
+
+    And now, behold! through golden clouds,
+      A pierced hand I see,
+    And listen to a glorious Voice,
+      Arise! and come to Me."
+
+    His breath grew faint, but soft and low
+      The parting whisper sigh'd,
+    "I come, dear Lord, I come!" and so,
+      Without a pang he died.
+
+    Oh blessed child! with whom the strife
+      Of fear and care are o'er,
+    Methinks thine angel smile we see
+      From yon celestial shore,
+
+    And hear thee singing to His praise
+      Whose boundless mercy gave
+    Unto thy meek and trusting soul,
+      The victory o'er the Grave.
+
+
+
+
+The Precocious Infant.
+
+
+The infant of whom the following traits will be remembered by many, was
+the son of the Rev. Dr. H. N. Brinsmade, and born in Hartford,
+Connecticut, February 28th, 1827. At an age when babes are considered
+little more than attractive objects to the loving eye, or toys to amuse
+a leisure hour, he was acquiring new ideas, and a subject of discipline;
+for his parents became convinced, through his example, that the mind in
+its earliest developments is susceptible of culture.
+
+From the age of four months, he was observed to regard surrounding
+objects with a fixed attention. During those periods of inspection, the
+name of the article thus regarded was slowly repeated to him, until he
+associated it with the sound, and afterwards, would earnestly turn his
+eyes to any prominent piece of furniture, or particular portions of his
+own dress, or parts of his body, when designated by their respective
+names. At ten months he commenced learning the alphabet, from small
+wooden cubes, on which each letter was separately painted. This process
+was soon completed: not that he was able to utter the corresponding
+sounds, but would point out any letter that was inquired for, without
+mistake; and if he saw one in an inverted position, was never easy until
+he had restored it to its true attitude.
+
+By the aid of prints pasted on cards, he readily acquired the names of
+animals and birds, arranged according to a judicious system of Natural
+History. He was encouraged to become thoroughly familiar with one print
+ere he was permitted to take another. Thus a basis was laid for habits
+of application, and the idle curiosity restrained, with which children
+are wont to wander from picture to picture. His parents in showing him a
+landscape or historical painting, accustomed him to regard every object,
+however minute, with an accurate eye, and so retentive was his memory,
+that what had been thoroughly impressed he seldom forgot. There were few
+toys from which he derived satisfaction, but seemed to find in pictures
+and books, with the explanations which they elicited, his principal
+delight. His careful treatment of books was remarkable, and this was
+undoubtedly in a measure produced by a little circumstance which
+occurred when he was quite young. He had torn the paper cover of a small
+volume. His mother remarked upon it with a serious countenance, and as
+the members of the family entered, mentioned what had been done, in a
+tone of sadness.
+
+Presently his lip quivered, and a tear glistened in his eye. The lesson
+had been sufficiently strong, and it was necessary to comfort him.
+Afterwards, expensive volumes were fearlessly submitted to him, and the
+most splendid English annuals sustained no injury from his repeated
+examinations.
+
+Geography, as exhibited on maps, became a favourite study, and ere he
+had numbered his second birthday, I saw him with surprise and admiration
+point out upon an atlas, seas, rivers, lakes, and countries, without
+hesitation or error.
+
+A short time after, I found that he had made acquaintance with the
+rudiments of geometry, and was continually increasing his knowledge of
+printed words, which, with their definitions and combinations in simple
+phrases, were rapidly initiating him into his native language. It may
+possibly be imagined that he was made a mere book-worm, or might have
+been naturally deficient in animal spirits. On the contrary, nothing was
+taught him by compulsion, and no child could be more full of happiness.
+His sports, his rambles in the garden, and the demonstrations of
+infantine pleasure, were sweet to him. His mother was his companion, his
+playmate, and his instructress. Deeming her child's mind of more value
+than any other feminine pursuit or enjoyment, she devoted her time to
+its cultivation; and to her perseverance and the entire concurrence of
+his father in the intellectual system devised for him, his uncommon
+attainments may be imputed, more than to any peculiar gift of nature.
+Still, I am not prepared to say, that there was not something originally
+extraordinary in his capacity; at least I have never seen his docility,
+application, and retentive power, equalled in the early stages of
+existence. Portions of every day, suited in their length to his infancy,
+were regularly devoted to the business of instruction. But these were
+often unconsciously extended in their limits, by his eager desire to
+learn something more; and the winning and repeated entreaty of "Pray,
+_dear mother_, teach me," was wont to secure him an additional
+indulgence of "line upon line, and precept upon precept." His love of
+knowledge was becoming a passion, still there seemed no undue prominence
+of one department of intellect to the injury of another. Perception,
+understanding, and memory, advanced together, and seemed equally
+healthful.
+
+He was destined for a learned education; a great part of which it was
+deemed preferable that he should receive under the parental roof; and
+his mother was preparing herself to become an assistant to his father in
+teaching him different languages. So indefatigable were her attentions
+to him, that she never left him to the care of a servant; and thus
+correct habits and purity of feeling, were preserved from contamination.
+
+Among the pleasing traits of character which revealed themselves in him,
+his love of home was conspicuous. Though fond of seeing new objects, yet
+home was the spot most desirable to him. During a journey to New York,
+after the completion of his second year, where museums, and every
+alluring curiosity were inspected by him with delighted attention, the
+prospect of returning to his own flowers, shells, and books, gave him
+inexpressible joy.
+
+He also manifested great ardour of affection for his parents. He could
+form no idea of happiness independent of their presence and
+participation. Though exceedingly fond of seeing collections of animals,
+which his knowledge of Natural History led him to regard with peculiar
+interest, he insisted that his father should take him from the first
+exhibition of the kind which he had ever witnessed, and when he was
+highly entertained by an elephant, ostrich, and some monkeys, because he
+discovered that his mother had withdrawn. The attachment usually felt by
+children for the tender guides of their infant hours, seemed in his case
+heightened by the consciousness that they were the dispensers of that
+knowledge with whose love he was smitten. When heaven was represented to
+him as a delightful abode, and rendered still more alluring by the image
+of a beloved and departed relative, whom he was taught to consider as
+among its inhabitants, he would express his unwillingness to be removed
+there unless "dear father and mother would go too."
+
+A grateful spirit seemed to mingle with his filial affection, and moved
+him to an expression of thanks for every little favour. When given only
+a piece of bread, if a few moments happened to intervene between its
+reception and the customary acknowledgment, he would inquire as if
+troubled at the omission, "Did I forget to thank mother?" He was often
+told that to his Father in heaven, he was indebted for what he most
+loved, and with an affecting earnestness and graceful gesture of his
+little head, would say, "_Thank God_." At the period of family devotion
+he was early taught a quiet and reverent deportment, and after books
+became so interesting to him, preferred to look over when his father
+read the Scriptures, and to have it spread before him when he knelt
+during the prayer.
+
+It might possibly have been feared that the mind, by starting into such
+sudden expansion, would have left the heart at a distance, but the germs
+of gentleness and virtue kept pace with the growth of intellect. There
+was also preserved a fine and fortunate balance between mind and body,
+for his physical education had been considered an important department
+of parental care and responsibility. His erect form, and expanded chest,
+revealed the rudiments of a good constitution, while his fair brow,
+bright black eye, and playful smile, bespoke that union of health,
+beauty, and cheerfulness, which never failed of attracting attention.
+There was less of light and boisterous mirth about him than is common to
+children of his age. His features expressed rather a mild and rational
+happiness than any exuberance of joy. This might have arisen partly from
+the circumstance of his having no young companion to encourage wild or
+extravagant sports; but principally, that the pleasures of thought were
+so continually resorted to, as to modify and elevate the countenance.
+His whole appearance was that of a healthful, happy, and beautiful
+infant, in the possession of a degree of learning and intelligence, to
+which infancy usually has no pretensions.
+
+But it was forbidden us to witness the result of this interesting
+experiment upon mind; or to trace the full development of a bud whose
+unfolding was so wonderful. An acute dysentery which prevailed in the
+neighbourhood, numbered him among its victims, and after a fortnight's
+painful languishing, he died on the 11th of August, 1829, at the age of
+two years and five months.
+
+After the breath had forsaken him he was still lovely, though emaciated.
+Fresh roses and orange flowers were around his head and on his bosom,
+and a bud clasped in his snowy hand. He seemed like one who had suffered
+and fallen asleep, and there lingered a peaceful and patient spirit
+around his silent wasted lips. His mother was seated by her dead son,
+pale, but resigned. She had never been separated from him since his
+birth, and she wished to continue near him till the grave should claim
+its own. The parents were strengthened as true Christians, to yield
+their only one to the will of his Father in heaven. And the anguish of
+their affliction was undoubtedly mitigated by the recollection, that
+nothing in their power had been omitted to promote his improvement and
+heighten his felicity, and that his dwelling was now to be where
+knowledge is no longer gained by slow laborious efforts, but where light
+is without cloud, and the soaring soul freed from its encumbrances of
+clay.
+
+
+
+
+The Last Rose-bud.
+
+
+    The child was radiant with delight,
+      As from the garden's shade,
+    With golden ringlets clustering bright,
+    She burst upon the mother's sight,
+    And in her hand, like fairy sprite,
+      A blooming rose-bud laid.
+
+    'Twas the last wreath by summer wove
+      That thus the darling brought,
+    For Autumn's breath had chill'd the grove;
+    Oh mother! was that gift of love
+      With aught of sadness fraught?
+
+    Say, didst thou think how soon that head
+      In silent earth would rest?
+    A solemn curtain o'er it spread,
+    And the green turf she joy'd to tread,
+      A covering for her breast?
+
+    But, for the buds that fade no more,
+      Look thou in faith above,
+    Look, mother! where the seraphs soar,
+    Where countless harps their music pour,
+    And raptur'd cherubim adore
+      The God of boundless love.
+
+
+
+
+The Cherub's Welcome.
+
+
+Among the bright-robed host of heaven, two cherubs were filled with new
+rapture. Gladness that mortal eye hath never seen beamed from their
+brows, as with tuneful voices they exclaimed,
+
+"Joy! joy! He cometh! Welcome, welcome, dear brother!" And they clasped
+in their arms a new immortal.
+
+Then to their golden harps they chanted, "Thou shalt weep no more, our
+brother, neither shall sickness smite thee. For here is no death,
+neither sorrow, nor sighing."
+
+At the Saviour's feet they knelt together with their warbled strain,
+"Praise be unto Thee, who didst say, 'Suffer little children to come
+unto Me.'
+
+"Thou didst take them to Thy bosom upon earth, and through Thy love they
+enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. Endless praise and glory be Thine, Oh
+Lord most High!"
+
+They led the little one to amaranthine bowers, and wreathed around his
+temples the flowers that never fade. They gave him of the fruit of the
+Tree of Life, and of the water that gusheth forth clear as crystal from
+before the Throne of God and of the Lamb.
+
+And they said, "Beautiful one! who wert too young to lisp the dialect of
+earth, sweet to thee will be the pure language of heaven. Bringest thou
+to us no token from the world that was once our home?"
+
+Then answered the babe-cherub, "Here is our mother's last kiss with a
+tear upon it, and the prayer with which our father gave me back to God."
+
+And they said, "Their gifts are sweet to us. We remember _her_ smile who
+lulled us on her breast, whose eye was open through the long night, when
+sickness smote us; and _his_ voice who taught us the name of Jesus.
+
+Oft-times do we hover about them. We are near them though they see us
+not. While they mourn we drop into their hearts a balm drop and a
+thought of heaven, and fly back hither, swifter than the wing of
+morning.
+
+We keep watch at the shining gates for them, and for the white-haired
+parents whom they honour, and for our fair sister, that we may be the
+first to welcome them. Lo! when all are here, our joy shall be full."
+
+Long they talked together, folding their rainbow wings. They talked long
+with their music tones, yet the darkness came not. For there is no night
+there.
+
+Then there burst forth a great song, choirs of angels saying, "Holy,
+holy, holy Lord God Almighty: Just and true are thy ways, thou King of
+Saints." And the lyres of the cherub brothers joined the chorus,
+swelling the melody of heaven.
+
+
+
+
+The Babe, and the Forget-Me-Not.
+
+
+    A babe, who like the opening bud
+      Grew fairer day by day,
+    Made friendship with the loving flowers
+      Amid his infant play;
+
+    And though full many a gorgeous plant
+      Display'd its colours bright,
+    Yet with the meek Forget-me-not
+      He took his chief delight.
+
+    From mantel-vase, or rich bouquet,
+      He cull'd his favourite gem,
+    Well pleas'd its lowly lips to kiss,
+      And gently clasp its stem.
+
+    So, when to dreamless rest he sank,
+      For soon he was to fade,
+    That darling friend, Forget-me-not,
+      Was on his bosom laid;
+
+    And when, beside the mother's couch,
+      Who weepeth for his sake,
+    Some vision of his heavenly joy
+      Doth midnight darkness break,
+
+    He cometh with a cherub smile
+      In garments of the bless'd,
+    And weareth a Forget-me-not
+      Upon his sinless breast.
+
+
+
+
+Treatment of Animals.
+
+
+A grateful disposition, should teach us to be kind to the domestic
+animals. They add much to our comfort. How should we bear the winter's
+cold, were it not for the coat of wool, which the sheep shares with us?
+How would journeys be performed, or the mail be carried, or the affairs
+of government be conducted, without the aid of the horse?
+
+Did you ever think how much the comfort of families depends upon the
+cow? Make a list of articles for the table, or for the sick, to which
+milk is indispensable. Perhaps you will be surprised to find how
+numerous they are.
+
+When the first settlers of New England, came to Plymouth, in the winter
+of 1620, four years elapsed, before any cows were brought them. During
+all this time, their bread was made of pounded corn, and they had not a
+drop of milk for the weaned infant, or the sickly child, or to make any
+little delicacy for the invalid.
+
+There was great rejoicing in the colony, when a ship arrived, bringing a
+few small heifers. Remember how patiently our good ancestors endured
+their many hardships; and when you freely use the milk of which they
+were so long deprived, be kind to the peaceable, orderly quadruped, from
+whom it is obtained.
+
+Domestic animals, are sensible of kindness, and improved by it. They are
+made happier and more gentle, by being caressed and spoken to with a
+pleasant voice. Food, shelter, needful rest, and good treatment, are
+surely due to them, for their many services to man.
+
+The Arab treats his horse like his child, and the noble animal loves
+him, and strains every nerve to do his bidding. I have seen a horse,
+when wearied with heat and travel, erect his head, and show evident
+signs of pleasure, and renew his labours with fresh zeal, if his master
+patted his neck, and whispered with a kind voice into his ear.
+
+It is delightful to see the young show a protecting kindness to such
+harmless creatures as are often harshly treated. It seems difficult to
+say why the toad is so generally singled out for strong dislike. Is it
+only because Nature has not given it beauty? Surely its habits are
+innocent, and its temper gentle.
+
+The scientific gardeners of Europe encourage toads to live in their
+gardens, and about their green-houses. They find them useful assistants
+in guarding their precious plants from insects. So, they wisely make
+them allies, instead of torturing and destroying them.
+
+A benevolent English gentleman, once took pains to reclaim a toad from
+its timid habits. It improved by his attentions. It grew to a very large
+size, and at his approach, came regularly from its hole, to meet him,
+and receive its food.
+
+Ladies, who visited the garden, sometimes desired to see this singular
+favourite. It was even brought to the table, and permitted to have a
+dessert of insects, which it partook, without being embarrassed by the
+presence of company.
+
+It lived to be forty years old. What age it might have attained, had it
+met with no accident, it would be difficult to say. For it was in
+perfect health when wounded by a fierce raven, as it one day was coming
+from its house, under the steps of the door, which fronted the garden.
+
+The poor creature languished a while, and then died; and the benevolent
+man who had so long protected it, took pleasure in relating its history,
+and in remembering that he had made its life happy.
+
+Cruelty to animals is disgraceful and sinful. If I see even a young
+child pull off the wings of an insect, or take pains to set his foot
+upon a worm, I know that he has not been well instructed, or else that
+there is something wrong and wicked in his heart.
+
+The Emperor Domitian loved to kill flies, and at last became a monster
+of cruelty. Benedict Arnold, the traitor, when he was a boy, liked to
+give pain to every thing, over which he could get power.
+
+He destroyed birds' nests, and cut the little unfledged ones in pieces,
+before the eyes of their agonised parents. Cats and dogs, the quiet cow,
+and the faithful horse, he delighted to hurt and distress.
+
+I do not like to repeat his cruel deeds. He was told that they were
+wrong. An excellent lady with whom he lived, use to warn and reprove
+him. But he did not reform. For his heart was hard, and he did not heed
+the commands of God.
+
+He grew up without good principles. He became a soldier, and had command
+in the army. But he laid a plan to betray his country, and sell it into
+the hands of the enemy.
+
+His wickedness was discovered, and he fled. He never dared to return to
+his native land, but lived despised, and died in misery. We know not how
+much of the sin which disgraced his character, sprang out of his
+hardness of heart, and cruelty to animals.
+
+Many of the inferior creation display virtues which are deserving of
+respect. How many remarkable instances have we heard of the sagacity of
+the elephant, and the grateful attachment and fidelity of the dog.
+
+A shepherd, who lived at the foot of the Grampian mountains, one day, in
+going to look after his flock, took with him his little boy of four
+years old. Some of his sheep had strayed. In pursuing them, he was
+obliged to climb rocks, so steep, that the child could not follow.
+
+The shepherd charged the child to remain where he left him, until he
+should return. But while he was gone, one of those thick fogs arose,
+which in that part of Scotland are not uncommon. With difficulty he
+groped his way back again. But the child was gone.
+
+All his search was vain. There was sorrow that night in the lowly
+cottage of his parents. The next day, the neighbours joined, and
+continued their pursuit for several days and nights. But in vain.
+
+"Is my dog lost too?" said the father, as he one day entered his
+dwelling, and sat down in weariness and despair. "He has come here
+daily," said his little daughter, "while you and mother, have been
+searching for poor Donald. I have given him a piece of cake, which he
+has taken, and ran hastily away."
+
+The household bread of the poor, in Scotland, is made of oatmeal, and
+being not baked in loaves, but rolled out thin, is often called cake.
+While they were speaking, the dog rushed in, and leaped upon his master,
+whining earnestly.
+
+An oatmeal cake was given him. He appeared hungry but ate only a small
+portion of it. The remainder he took in his mouth, and ran away. The
+shepherd followed him. It was with difficulty, that he kept his track,
+fording a swift streamlet, and descending into a terrible ravine.
+
+Then he entered a cave. And what was his joy to see there his little,
+lost son. He was eating heartily the bread which the dog had brought
+him, while he, standing by, and wagging his tail, looked up in his face
+with delight, as he took the food, which he nobly denied himself.
+
+It seems that the dog was with the child, when, in the dimness of the
+mist, he wandered away. He must have aided him to pass the deep waters
+that crossed his path. And when he found shelter in that rude cavern,
+and mourned for his parents, the faithful dog guarded him like a father,
+and fed him with a mother's tenderness.
+
+How can we fail to treat with kindness, a race of animals, that are
+capable of such virtues. Others, that are less celebrated, often show
+traits of character, which are worthy of imitation. Let us hear the
+opinion of the poet Cowper, on this interesting subject.
+
+    "We too might learn, if not too proud to stoop
+    To animal instructors, many a good
+    And useful quality, and virtue too,
+    Rarely exemplified among ourselves.
+    Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat
+    Can move, or warp, and gratitude for small
+    And trivial favours, lasting as the life,
+    And glistening even from the dying eye."
+
+Birds give us an example of tender affection. There is no warfare in
+their nests. The little brothers and sisters dwell together in harmony,
+till they are able to stretch out the newly-plumed wing, and quit the
+care of the parent. Say they not to us, as they sing among the branches,
+"_Live in love!_"
+
+The innocent dove, is cited as a model in the Book of God. "Be ye
+harmless as doves," said our Saviour, to his disciples. The stork
+spreads out its broad pinions, and bears its aged parents, on their
+journey through the air. It feeds and cherishes them with the same care,
+that it received in its own helpless infancy. Shall we not learn from it
+a lesson of filial piety?
+
+Once, a robin, in returning to her nest, was shot dead. The mate mourned
+bitterly for her loss, but took her place upon the nest. There he
+brooded, until the young came forth from the egg, and then he sought
+food, and fed them like a mother, until they were able to fly away.
+
+Often while he was performing her duties, and always at the close of
+day, his plaintive note was heard, lamenting his lost love. Ah! who
+could be so wicked as to destroy the nest, or the eggs, or the young, of
+those affectionate creatures. Our Father in Heaven, "taketh care of
+sparrows, and feedeth the young ravens that cry."
+
+
+
+
+The Trembling Eyelid.
+
+
+It was the day before Christmas, in the year 1778, during our war of
+revolution, that an armed vessel sailed out of Boston. She was strongly
+built, and carried twenty guns, and a crew of one hundred and five
+persons; with provisions for a cruise of six months.
+
+She made a fine appearance, as she spread her broad sails, and steered
+out of the harbour. Many hearts wished her success. And she bore as
+goodly a company of bold and skilful seamen, as ever braved the perils
+of the deep.
+
+Soon the north wind blew, and brought a heavy sea into the bay. The
+night proved dark, and they came to anchor with difficulty, near the
+harbour of Plymouth. The strong gale that buffeted them became a storm,
+and the storm a hurricane.
+
+Snow fell, and the cold was terribly severe. The vessel was driven from
+her moorings, and struck on a reef of rocks. She began to fill with
+water, and they were obliged to cut away her masts. The sea rose above
+her main deck, sweeping over it with its dark surges.
+
+They made every exertion that courage could prompt, or hardihood endure.
+But so fearful were the wind and cold, that the stoutest man was not
+able to strike more than two or three blows, in cutting away the masts,
+without being relieved by another.
+
+The wretched people thronged together upon the quarter-deck, which was
+crowded almost to suffocation. They were exhausted with toil and
+suffering, but could obtain neither provisions, nor fresh water. These
+were all covered by the deep sea, when the vessel became a wreck.
+
+But, unfortunately, the crew got access to ardent spirits, and many of
+them drank, and became intoxicated. Insubordination, mutiny, and madness
+ensued. The officers, remained clear-minded, but lost all authority over
+the crew, who raved around them.
+
+A more frightful scene, can scarcely be imagined: the dark sky, the
+raging storm, the waves breaking wildly over the rocks, and threatening
+every moment to swallow up the broken vessel; and the half-frozen beings
+who maintained their icy hold on life, lost to reason, and to duty, or
+fighting fiercely with each other.
+
+Some lay in disgusting stupidity; others, with fiery faces, blasphemed
+God. Some, in temporary delirium, fancied themselves in palaces,
+surrounded by luxury, and brutally abused the servants, who, they
+supposed, refused to do their bidding.
+
+Others there were, who, amid the beating of that pitiless tempest,
+believed themselves in the homes that they never more must see, and with
+hollow, reproachful voices, besought bread, and wondered why water was
+withheld from them by the hands that were most dear.
+
+A few, whose worst passions were quickened by alcohol to a fiend-like
+fury, assaulted or wounded those who came in their way, making their
+shrieks of defiance, and their curses heard above the roar of the
+storm. Intemperance never displayed itself in more distressing
+attitudes.
+
+At length, Death began to do his work. The miserable creatures fell
+every hour upon the deck, frozen, stiff, and hard. Each corpse, as it
+became breathless, was laid upon a heap of dead, that more space might
+be left for the survivors. Those who drank most freely, were the first
+to perish.
+
+On the third day of these horrors, the inhabitants of Plymouth, after
+making many ineffectual attempts, reached the wreck, not without danger.
+What a melancholy spectacle! Lifeless bodies, hardened into every form
+that suffering could devise.
+
+Many lay in a vast pile. Others sat, with their heads reclining on their
+knees; others, grasping the ice-covered ropes; some in a posture of
+defence like the dying gladiator: and others, with hands held up to
+heaven, as if deprecating their awful fate.
+
+Orders were given to search earnestly for every mark or sign of life.
+One boy was distinguished amid a mass of dead, only by the trembling of
+one of his eyelids. The poor survivors were kindly received into the
+houses of the people of Plymouth, and every effort used for their
+restoration.
+
+The captain and lieutenant, and a few others, who had abstained from the
+use of ardent spirits, survived. The remainder were buried, some in
+separate graves, and others in a large pit, whose hollow is still to be
+seen, on the south-west side of the burial ground in Plymouth.
+
+The funeral obsequies were most solemn. When the clergyman, who was to
+perform the last services, first entered the church, and saw more than
+seventy dead bodies; some fixing upon him their stony eyes, and others,
+with faces, stiffened into the horrible expression of their last mortal
+agony, he was so affected as to faint.
+
+Some, were brought on shore alive, and received every attention, but
+survived only a short time. Others, were restored after long sickness,
+but with limbs so injured by frost, as to become cripples for life.
+
+In a village, at some distance from Plymouth, a widowed mother, with her
+daughter, were seen constantly attending a couch, on which lay a
+sufferer. It was the boy, whose trembling eyelid attracted the notice of
+pity, as he lay among the dead.
+
+"Mother," he said in a feeble tone, "God bless you for having taught me
+to avoid ardent spirits. It was this that saved me. After those around
+me grew intoxicated, I had enough to do to protect myself from them.
+
+"Some attacked, and dared me to fight; others pressed the poisonous
+draught to my lips, and bade me drink. My lips and throat were parched
+with thirst. But I knew if I drank with them, I must lose my reason as
+they did, and perhaps, blaspheme my Maker.
+
+"One by one they died, those poor infuriated wretches. Their shrieks and
+groans, still seem to ring in my ears. It was in vain that the captain
+and their officers, and a few good men, warned them of what would ensue,
+if they thus continued to drink, and tried every method in their power,
+to restore them to order.
+
+"They still fed upon the fiery liquor. They grew delirious. They died in
+heaps. Dear mother, our sufferings from hunger and cold, you cannot
+imagine. After my feet were frozen, but before I lost the use of my
+hands, I discovered a box, among fragments of the wreck, far under
+water.
+
+"I toiled with a rope to drag it up. But my strength was not sufficient.
+A comrade, who was still able to move a little, assisted me. At length,
+it came within our reach. We hoped that it might contain bread, and took
+courage.
+
+"Uniting our strength we burst it open. It contained only a few bottles
+of olive oil. Yet we gave God thanks. For we found that by occasionally
+moistening our lips with it, and swallowing a little, it allayed the
+gnawing, burning pain in the stomach.
+
+"Then my comrade died. And I lay beside him, like a corpse, surrounded
+by corpses. Presently, the violence of the tempest, that had so long
+raged, subsided, and I heard quick footsteps, and strange voices amid
+the wreck, where we lay.
+
+"They were the blessed people of Plymouth, who had dared every danger,
+to save us. They lifted in their arms, and wrapped in blankets, all who
+could speak. Then they earnestly sought all who could move. But every
+drunkard, was among the dead.
+
+"And I was so exhausted with toil, and suffering, and cold, that I could
+not stretch a hand to my deliverers. They passed me again and again.
+They carried the living to the boat. I feared that I was left behind.
+
+"Then I prayed earnestly, in my heart, 'Oh, Lord, for the sake of my
+widowed mother, for the sake of my dear sister, save me.' I believed
+that the last man had gone, and besought the Redeemer to receive my
+spirit.
+
+"But I felt a warm breath on my face. I strained every nerve. My whole
+soul strove and shuddered within me. Still my body was immovable as
+marble. Then a loud voice said, 'Come back and help me out with this
+poor lad. One of his eyelids trembles. He lives!'
+
+"Oh, the music of that voice to me! The trembling eyelid, and the prayer
+to God, and your lessons of temperance, my mother, saved me." Then the
+loving sister embraced him with tears, and the mother said, "Praise be
+to Him who hath spared my son, to be the comfort of my old age."
+
+
+
+
+Peaceful Dispositions.
+
+
+The history of every nation tells of the shedding of blood. The most
+ancient annals record "wars and fightings," ever since man was placed
+upon the earth. Both savage and civilized nations have prized the
+trappings of the warrior, and coveted the glory of victory.
+
+Yet have there always been some reflecting minds, to lament that the
+beings whom God had so nobly endowed, should delight to destroy each
+other. They have felt that there was suffering enough in the world,
+without man's inflicting it on his brother; and that life was short
+enough, without being made still shorter by violence.
+
+Among the most warlike nations, there have been a few calm and
+philanthropic spirits, to perceive that war was an evil, or to deplore
+it as a judgment, even before the Gospel breathed "good-will and peace,"
+in an angel's song. Though Rome grew up by bloodshed, and gained her
+dominion by the sword, yet some of her best emperors deplored the evils
+of war.
+
+Adrian loved peace, and endeavoured to promote it. He saw that war was a
+foe to those arts and sciences, through which nations become prosperous
+and refined. He felt that the cultivation of the earth, the pursuits of
+commerce, and the progress of intellect, must alike be obstructed and
+languish, while the business of men was in the field of battle.
+
+Titus Antoninus Pius desired to live in peace with every one. "I had
+rather save the life of one citizen," he nobly said, "than destroy a
+thousand enemies." His successor, Marcus Aurelius, considered war both
+as a disgrace and calamity. Though the necessity of the times sometimes
+forced him into it, his heart revolted, for he was inspired with the
+love of learning and philosophy.
+
+Yet these were heathen emperors. They had never imbibed the spirit of
+the Gospel. They were not followers of Him, whose last accents was a
+prayer for his murderers. The maxim of the ancient Jews was, "an eye for
+an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." But the precept of Jesus Christ is,
+"see that ye love one another." The contentious spirit was not therefore
+condemned by the law of Moses, nor by the mythology of the heathen.
+
+Have you ever thought much, my dear young friends, of the miseries of
+war? of the waste of human life which it causes? of the bitter mourning
+which it makes in families? You pity a friend who suffers pain, a poor
+cripple upon crutches, or even a child with a cut finger.
+
+But, after a battle, what gashes and gaping wounds are seen, what
+multitudes of mangled carcases. How red is the earth with flowing blood,
+how terrible are the groans of the dying, trampled beneath the feet of
+horses, or suffocated under heaps of dead. How fearful to see strong men
+convulsed with agony, and imploring help in vain.
+
+Think too, of the sorrow in their distant homes. Grey-headed parents,
+from whom the last prop is taken away, lamenting their sons fallen in
+battle. Wives mourning for their husbands, little children weeping
+because their fathers must return no more. Neighbourhoods, once happy
+and prosperous, plunged into poverty, by the loss of those who provided
+them with bread.
+
+All these evils, and many more, which we have neither room nor time to
+mention, may come from a single battle. Towns and cities are sometimes
+burned, and the aged and helpless destroyed. Mothers, and their innocent
+babes, perish in the ruins of their own beloved abodes.
+
+War produces cruelty, and bad passions. Men, who have no cause to
+dislike each other, meet as deadly foes. They raise weapons of
+destruction, and exult in the misery they inflict. Rulers, should take a
+solemn view of the sufferings and sins of war, ere they plunge the
+people into it, for differences which might have been amicably settled.
+
+War is expensive. The political economist should therefore oppose it.
+Great Britain, in her last war with France, is said to have spent more
+than seven hundred millions of pounds. But the immediate cost of armies,
+is but a part of the expense of war.
+
+Who can compute the amount of losses by the obstruction of tillage and
+commerce, and the waste of life; for every full-grown, able-bodied man,
+is of value to the country that reared him. We may say with the poet,
+
+    "War is a game, that, were their subjects wise,
+    Kings would not play at."
+
+Howard, who felt that it was more noble to save life than to destroy it,
+visited the prisons of distant lands, to relieve such as have no helper;
+and blessings, in foreign languages, were poured upon his head.
+Bonaparte caused multitudes to be slain and multitudes to mourn, and
+died in exile, on a desolate island. When death approached, to strip the
+pomp from titles, whose bosom must have been the most peaceful, when
+about to pass into the presence of God?
+
+The religious sect, who are called Friends, never engage in warfare. The
+State of Pennsylvania, was settled by them. William Penn, its founder,
+purchased it of the natives, and lived with them in amity. They gathered
+around him, with their dark, red brows, and, gazing earnestly in his
+face, said, "You are our father. We love you."
+
+When he purchased the land of them, he appeared unarmed, under the
+spreading branches of a lofty oak, and conferred with their chiefs. He
+paid them to their satisfaction, gave them gifts, and entered into
+articles of friendship with them and their descendants. "This is the
+only treaty which was confirmed without an oath," said an historian,
+"and the only one that was never broken."
+
+These men of peace, treated the sons of the forest as brethren. But in
+other colonies, there were distressing wars. The settlers carried their
+guns to the corn-field, and laboured in fear, for the safety of their
+households. The tomahawk and scalping-knife were sometimes secretly
+raised, so that when they returned home, there was no wife or children
+there, only dead bodies. A savage foe had chosen this terrible form of
+vengeance, for real or supposed wrongs.
+
+If true glory belongs to those who do great good to mankind, is not the
+glory of the warrior a false glory? Does not History sometimes confer on
+her heroes, a fame which religion condemns? But we ask how are wars to
+be prevented? Might not one nation act as mediator between others, as a
+good man makes peace between contending neighbours?
+
+Why should not one Christian ruler address another, as the patriarch
+Abraham did his kinsman? "Let there be no strife, betwixt us, I pray
+thee; _for we are brethren_." If there have been always wars from the
+beginning, is this any reason why there should be unto the end? Do not
+the Scriptures of Truth foretell a happy period on earth, when there
+shall be war no more? How beautifully has a poet versified the cheering
+prediction:
+
+    "No more shall nation against nation rise,
+    Nor ardent warriors meet, with hateful eyes,
+    Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er,
+    But brazen trumpet kindle rage no more,
+    The useless lances into scythes shall bend,
+    And the broad faulchion in a ploughshare end.
+    For wars shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail,
+    Returning Justice lift aloft her scale.
+    Peace o'er the earth her olive wand extend,
+    And white-rob'd righteousness from Heaven descend."
+
+War proceeds from the unbridled passions, or restless ambition of men.
+Unkind and quarrelsome dispositions in children are the germs of such
+evil fruit. Ought not then, the remedy to be early applied to the heart,
+from whence they spring? For if the love of peace, was planted, and
+cherished carefully in the breast of every little child, would there not
+grow up a generation, who would help to banish war from the earth?
+
+Avoid contention with your companions. Use no offensive words, and when
+you see others disagree, strive to reconcile them. Repress every
+revengeful feeling. If any one has injured you, do not injure them. Try
+to set them a better example. If any speak unfavourably of you, it is
+well to do them some good office. Perhaps you can lend them an
+interesting, instructive book, whose perusal would lead them to kinder
+dispositions.
+
+To render evil for evil, would make perpetual discord in society. Try,
+therefore, to be gentle and patient to those who seem to dislike you.
+Their cold treatment may often proceed from some trifle, which your
+pleasant manners may reconcile. And it is a pity, to lose for any
+trifle, the benefits of friendly intercourse.
+
+When in company with your associates, do not insist always on having
+your own way. If you are in the habit of cheerfully consulting their
+wishes, they will seek your society, and enjoy it. Thus you will acquire
+influence over them, and this influence should be exerted for their
+good.
+
+You know that he who does good to another, uniformly, and from a right
+principle, promotes his own happiness. It is indeed, easy to love those
+who love us, but to be kind to those who are unkind to us is not so
+easy, though it is a nobler virtue.
+
+"Do not suffer yourself to hate even your enemies," said Plutarch, "for
+in doing so, you contract a vicious habit of mind, which will by degrees
+break out, even upon your friends, or those who are indifferent to you."
+This is the advice of a heathen philosopher. But more definite and
+sublime are the words of our Redeemer, "Love your enemies, that ye may
+be the children of your Father in Heaven, who doeth good unto the evil
+and unthankful."
+
+By preserving peaceful dispositions, and persuading those who are at
+variance, to be reconciled, you will be serene and happy. You will be
+pursuing an education which will fit you for the society of angels.
+Have we not read of a country, where there is no war? where peace and
+love reign in the bosom of all its inhabitants?
+
+That country is Heaven. We hope to dwell there when we die. We would
+strive to cultivate its spirit while on earth. How else can we be
+permitted to remain there? The scorpion cannot abide in the nest of the
+turtle-dove, nor the leopard slumber in the lamb's fold. Neither can the
+haters of peace find a home in those blissful regions.
+
+That holy Book, which is the rule of our conduct, the basis of our hope,
+has promised no reward to those who delight in the shedding of blood.
+But our Saviour, when his dwelling was in tents of clay, when he taught
+the listening multitude what they must do, to inherit eternal life,
+said, "Blessed are the peace makers, for they shall be called the
+children of God."
+
+
+
+
+John and James Williams.
+
+
+John and James Williams, were the sons of a New England farmer. In
+summer, they took an active part in his labours, and during the winter
+attended to their school-education. Both were fond of books, but their
+tastes and dispositions were different.
+
+One cold evening in winter, they were sitting beside a bright fire of
+wood. Their lamp cast a cheerful ray over the snow-covered landscape.
+Several books lay on the table, from which they had been studying their
+lessons for the following day.
+
+"John," said the youngest, who was about thirteen years old, "John, I
+mean to be a soldier. I have lately been reading the life of Alexander
+of Macedon, and a good deal about Bonaparte. I think there is nothing in
+this world like the glory of the warrior."
+
+"It does not strike me so, James. To destroy life, and to cause mourning
+in such a multitude of families, and to bring so much poverty and misery
+into the world, seems to me, more cruel than glorious."
+
+"But John, to be so praised and honoured, to have hosts of soldiers
+under your command, and to have the pages of history filled with the
+fame of your victories, how can you be blind to such glory as that?
+
+"Brother, the minister said last Sunday, that the _end of life was the
+test of its goodness_. Now, Alexander the Great got intoxicated, and
+died like a madman; and Bonaparte was shut up to pine away on a desolate
+island, as if he was a wild beast, chained in a cage."
+
+"John, your ideas are very limited. I am sorry to see that you are not
+capable of admiring heroes. You are just fit to be a farmer. I dare say
+that to break a pair of steers, is your highest ambition, and to spend
+your days in ploughing and reaping, is all the glory that you would
+covet."
+
+Their father's voice was now heard, calling, "Boys, go to bed." Thus
+ended their conversation for that night. These brothers loved each
+other, and seldom disagreed on any subject, except on trying to settle
+the point, in what the true glory of the warrior consisted.
+
+Fifteen years glided away, and the season of winter again returned. From
+the same window, a bright lamp gleamed, and on the same hearth glowed a
+cheerful fire. The farm-house seemed unaltered, but among its inmates,
+there had been changes.
+
+The parents, who had then retired to rest, were now mouldering in the
+grave. They were good and pious, and among the little circle of their
+native village, their memory was still held in sweet remembrance.
+
+In the corner, which they used to occupy, their eldest son, and his
+wife, were seated. A babe lay in the cradle, and two other little ones,
+breathed quietly from their trundle-bed, in the sweet sleep of
+childhood. A strong blast, with snow, shook the casement.
+
+"I always think," said John Williams, "about my poor brother, in stormy
+nights, especially in winter. So many years have past, since we have
+heard from him, and his way of life is so full of danger, that I fear he
+must be numbered with the dead."
+
+"Husband, did I hear a faint knock! or was it the wind among the
+trees?" said his wife. The farmer opened the door, and a traveller
+entered, leaning heavily on a crutch. His garments were old and thin,
+and his countenance haggard.
+
+He sank into a chair, and gazed earnestly around on every article of
+furniture, as on some recollected friend. Then, extending a withered
+hand, he uttered in a tone scarcely audible, "Brother! brother!"
+
+That word, opened the tender memories of other years. They hastened to
+welcome the wanderer, and to mingle their tears with his. "Sister,
+brother, I have come home to _die_." They found him too much exhausted
+to converse, and after giving him comfortable food, induced him to
+retire to rest.
+
+The next morning, he was unable to rise. They sat by his bedside, and
+soothed his worn heart with kindness, and told him the simple narrative
+of the changes in the neighbourhood, and what had befallen them, in
+their quiet abode.
+
+"I have had many troubles," said he, "but none have bowed me down, like
+the sin of leaving home to be a soldier, without the knowledge of my
+parents, and against their will. I have felt the pain of wounds, but
+there is nothing like the sting of conscience.
+
+"I have endured hunger, and thirst, and imprisonment, and the misery of
+sickness in an enemy's land; and then the image of my home, and my
+disobedience and ingratitude, were with me when I lay down, and when I
+rose up, and when I was sleepless and sick in the neglected hospitals.
+
+"In broken visions, I would see my dear mother bending tenderly over me,
+as she used to do, when I had only a headache; and my father with the
+great Bible in his hand, reading as he used to do before prayer; but
+when I cried out in agony. 'I am no more worthy to be called thy son,'
+I awoke, and it was all a dream."
+
+His brother assured him of the perfect forgivenness of his parents, and
+that duly, at morn and eve, he was borne upon their supplications at the
+family altar, as the son, erring, yet beloved. "Ah, yes, and those
+prayers followed me. But for them I should have been a reprobate,
+forsaken both of God and man."
+
+As strength permitted, he told them the story of his wanderings. He had
+been in battles, on land and sea. He had heard the deep ocean echo to
+the cannon's thunder, and seen earth drink the red shower from the
+bosoms of her slaughtered sons.
+
+He had stood in the martial lists of Europe, and hazarded his life for a
+foreign power, and had pursued, in his native land, the hunted Indian,
+flying at midnight from the flames of his own hut. He had ventured with
+the bravest, into the deepest danger, seeking every where for the glory
+which had dazzled his boyhood, but in vain.
+
+He found that it was the lot of the soldier to endure hardship, that
+others might reap the fame. He saw what fractures and mutilations, what
+misery, and mourning, and death, were necessary to purchase the reward
+of victory. He felt how light was even the renown of the conqueror,
+compared with the good that he forfeits, and the sorrow that he inflicts
+to obtain it.
+
+"Sometimes," he said, "just before rushing into battle, I felt a
+shuddering, and inexpressible horror, at the thought of butchering my
+fellow-creatures. But in the heat of contest, all such sympathies
+vanished, and madness and desperation possessed me, so that I cared
+neither for this life nor the next.
+
+"I have been left wounded on the field, unable to move from among the
+feet of trampling horses, my open gashes stiffening in the chilly night
+air, and death staring me in the face, while no man cared for my soul.
+Yet I will not distress your kind hearts, by describing my varieties of
+pain.
+
+"You, who have always lived amid the influences of mercy; who shrink to
+give unnecessary suffering, even to an animal, cannot realize what
+hardness of heart, comes with the life of a soldier, familiar as he must
+be with groans, and violence, and cruelty.
+
+"His moral and religious feelings, are in still greater danger. Oaths,
+imprecations, and contempt of sacred things, are mingled with the
+elements of his trade. The sweet and holy influences of the Sabbath, and
+the precepts of the Gospel, impressed upon his childhood, are too often
+swept away.
+
+"Yet though I exerted myself to appear bold and courageous, and even
+hardened, my heart reproached me. Oh, that it might be purified by
+repentance, and at peace with God, before I am summoned to the dread bar
+of judgment, to answer for my deeds of blood."
+
+His friends flattered themselves, that, by medical skill, and careful
+nursing, he might be restored to health. But he answered, "No, it can
+never be. My vital energies are wasted. Even now, is Death standing at
+my right hand."
+
+"When I entered this peaceful valley, my swollen limbs tottered, and
+began to fail. Then I prayed to the Almighty, whom I had so often
+forgotten, 'Oh, give me strength but a little longer, that I may reach
+the home where I was born, and die there, and be buried by the side of
+my father and my mother.'"
+
+The sick and penitent soldier, sought earnestly for the hope of
+salvation. He felt that a great change was needed in his soul, ere it
+could be fitted for the holy employments of a realm of purity and
+peace. He prayed, and wept, and studied the Scriptures, and listened to
+the counsel of pious men.
+
+"Brother, dear brother," he would say, "you have obeyed the precepts of
+our parents. You have chosen the path of peace. You have been merciful
+even to the inferior creatures. You have shorn the fleece, but not
+wantonly destroyed the lamb. You have taken the honey, and spared the
+labouring bee.
+
+"But I have destroyed man, and his habitation; the hive and the honey;
+the fleece and the flock. I have defaced the image of God, and crushed
+out that breath, which I can never restore. You know not how bitter is
+the warfare of my soul with the 'Prince of the power of the air, the
+spirit that ruleth in the children of disobedience.'"
+
+As the last hour approached, he laid his cold hand on the head of his
+brother's eldest child, who had been named for him, and said faintly,
+"Little James, obey your parents, and never be a soldier. Sister,
+brother, you have been angels of mercy to me. The blessing of God be
+upon you, and your household."
+
+The venerable minister who instructed his childhood, and laid his
+parents in the grave, had daily visited him in his sickness. He stood by
+his side, as he went down into the valley of the shadow of death. "My
+son, look unto the Lamb of God." "Yes, father, there is a fullness in
+Him for the chief of sinners."
+
+The aged man lifted up his fervent prayer for the departing soul. He
+commended it to the boundless compassions of Him who receiveth the
+penitent; and besought for it, a gentle passage to that world, where
+there is no more sin, neither sorrow, nor crying.
+
+He ceased. The eyes of the dying were closed. There was no more heaving
+of the breast, or gasping. They thought the breath had quitted the clay.
+They spoke of him as having passed where all tears are wiped from the
+eyes for ever.
+
+But again there was a faint sigh. The white lips slowly moved. His
+brother bending over him caught the last, low whisper,--"Jesus! Saviour!
+take a repentant sinner to the world of peace."
+
+
+
+
+The Indian King.
+
+
+Among the early settlers of these United States, were some pious people,
+called Hugenots, who fled from the persecutions in France, under Louis
+the Fourteenth. It has been said, that wherever the elements of their
+character mingled with the New World, the infusion was salutary.
+
+Industry, patience, sweet social affections, and piety, firm, but not
+austere, were the distinctive features of this interesting race. A
+considerable number of them, chose their abode in a part of the State of
+Massachusetts, about the year 1686, and commenced the labours
+inseparable from the formation of a new colony.
+
+In their vicinity, was a powerful tribe of Indians, whom they strove to
+conciliate. They extended to them the simple rites of hospitality, and
+their kind and gentle manners, wrought happily upon the proud, yet
+susceptible nature of the aborigines.
+
+But their settlement had not long assumed the marks of regularity and
+beauty, ere they observed in their savage neighbours, a reserved
+deportment. This increased, until the son of the forest, utterly avoided
+the dwellings of the new comers, where he had been pleased to accept a
+shelter for the night, or a covert for the storm.
+
+Occasionally, some lingering one might be seen near the cultivated
+grounds, regarding the more skilful agriculture of the white
+inhabitants with a dejected and lowering brow. It was rumoured that
+these symptoms of disaffection arose from the influence of an aged
+chief, whom they considered a prophet, who denounced the "pale
+intruders;" and they grieved that they should not have been more
+successful in conciliating their red brethren.
+
+Three years had elapsed since the establishment of their little colony.
+Autumn was now advancing towards its close, and copse and forest
+exhibited those varied and opposing hues, which clothe in beauty and
+brilliance, the foliage of New England. The harvest was gathered in, and
+every family made preparation for the approach of winter.
+
+Here and there groups of children might be seen, bearing homeward
+baskets of nuts, which they had gathered in the thicket, or forest. It
+was pleasant to hear their joyous voices, and see their ruddy faces,
+like bright flowers, amid wilds so lately tenanted by the prowling wolf,
+the fierce panther, and the sable bear.
+
+In one of these nut-gatherings, a little boy and girl, of eight and four
+years old, the only children of a settler, whose wife had died on the
+voyage hither, accidentally separated from their companions. They had
+discovered on their way home, profuse clusters of the purple
+frost-grape, and entering a rocky recess to gain the new treasure, did
+not perceive that the last rays of the setting sun were fading away.
+
+Suddenly they were seized by two Indians. The boy struggled violently,
+and his little sister cried to him for protection, but in vain. The long
+strides of their captors, soon bore them far beyond the bounds of the
+settlement. Night was far advanced, ere they halted. Then they kindled a
+fire, and offered the children some food.
+
+The heart of the boy swelled high with grief and anger, and he refused
+to partake. But the poor little girl took some parched corn from the
+hand of the Indian, who held her on his knee. He smiled as he saw her
+eat the kernels, and look up in his face with a wondering, yet
+reproachless eye. Then they lay down to sleep, in the dark forest, each
+with an arm over his captive.
+
+Great was the alarm in the colony, when those children returned not.
+Every spot was searched, where it was thought possible they might have
+lost their way. But, when at length their little baskets were found,
+overturned in a tangled thicket, one terrible conclusion burst upon
+every mind, that they must have been captured by Indians.
+
+It was decided, that ere any warlike measures were adopted, the father
+should go peacefully to the Indian king, and demand his children. At the
+earliest dawn of morning, he departed with his companions. They met a
+friendly Indian, pursuing the chase, who had occasionally shared their
+hospitality and consented to be their guide.
+
+They travelled through rude paths, until the day drew near a close.
+Then, approaching a circle of native dwellings, in the midst of which
+was a tent, they saw a man of lofty form, with a cornet of feathers upon
+his brow, and surrounded by warriors. The guide saluted him as his
+monarch, and the bereaved father, bowing down, addressed him:
+
+"King of the red men, thou seest a father in pursuit of his lost babes.
+He has heard that your people will not harm the stranger in distress. So
+he trusts himself fearlessly among you. The king of our own native land,
+who should have protected us, became our foe. We fled from our dear
+homes, from the graves of our fathers.
+
+"The ocean-wave brought us to this New World. We are a peaceful race,
+pure from the blood of all men. We seek to take the hand of our red
+brethren. Of my own kindred, none inhabit this wilderness save two
+little buds from a broken, buried stem.
+
+"Last night, sorrow entered into my soul, because I found them not.
+Knowest thou, O king, if thy people have taken my babes? Knowest thou
+where they have concealed them? Cause them, I pray thee, to be restored
+to my arms. So shall the Great Spirit bless thine own tender plants, and
+lift up thy heart when it weigheth heavily in thy bosom."
+
+The Indian monarch, bending on him a piercing glance, said, "Knowest
+thou me? Look in my eyes! Look! Answer me! Are they those of a
+stranger?" The Hugenot replied that he had no recollection of having
+ever before seen his countenance.
+
+"Thus it is with the white man. He is dim-eyed. He looketh on the
+garments, more than on the soul. Where your ploughs wound the earth, oft
+have I stood, watching your toil. There was no coronet on my brow. But I
+was a king. And you knew it not.
+
+"I looked upon your people. I saw neither pride nor violence. I went an
+enemy, but returned a friend. I said to my warriors, do these men no
+harm. They do not hate Indians. Then our white-haired Prophet of the
+Great Spirit rebuked me. He bade me make no league with the pale faces,
+lest angry words should be spoken of me among the shades of our buried
+kings.
+
+"Yet again I went where thy brethren have reared their dwellings. Yes, I
+entered thy house. _And thou knowest not this brow!_ I could tell thine
+at midnight, if but a single star trembled through the clouds. My ear
+would know thy voice, though the storm were abroad with all its
+thunders.
+
+"I have said that I was a king. Yet I came to thee an hungered. And thou
+gavest me bread. My head was wet with the tempest. Thou badest me to lie
+down on thy hearth, and thy son for whom thou mournest, covered me.
+
+"I was sad in spirit. And thy little daughter whom thou seekest with
+tears, sat on my knee. She smiled when I told her how the beaver
+buildeth his house in the forest. My heart was comforted, for I saw that
+she did not hate Indians.
+
+"Turn not on me such a terrible eye. I am no stealer of babes. I have
+reproved the people who took the children. I have sheltered them for
+thee. Not a hair of their heads is hurt. Thinkest thou that the red man
+can forget kindness? They are sleeping in my tent. Had I but a single
+blanket, it should have been their bed. Take them, and return unto thy
+people."
+
+He waved his hand to an attendant, and in a moment the two children were
+in the arms of their father. The white men were hospitably sheltered for
+that night, and the twilight of the next day, bore upward from the
+rejoicing colony, a prayer for the heathen of the forest, and that pure
+praise which mingles with the music around the throne.
+
+
+
+
+The Doves.
+
+
+    A Sea-king on the Danish shore,
+      When the old time went by,
+    Launch'd his rude ship for reckless deeds,
+      Beneath a foreign sky.
+
+    And oft on Albion's richer coast,
+      Where Saxon Harold reign'd,
+    With a fierce foe's marauding hate,
+      Wild warfare he maintained.
+
+    From hamlet-nook, and humble vale,
+      Their wealth he reft away,
+    And shamed not with his blood-red steel,
+      To wake the deadly fray.
+
+    But once within an islet's bay,
+      While summer-twilight spread
+    A curtain o'er the glorious sun,
+      Who sank to ocean's bed,
+
+    He paus'd amid his savage trade,
+      And gaz'd on earth and sea,
+    While o'er his head a nest of doves,
+      Hung in a linden tree.
+
+    They coo'd and murmur'd o'er their young,
+      A loving, mournful strain.
+    And still the chirping brood essay'd,
+      The same soft tones again.
+
+    The sea-king on the rocky beach;
+      Bow'd down his head to hear,
+    Yet started on his iron brow,
+      To feel a trickling tear.
+
+    He mus'd upon his lonely home,
+      Beyond the foaming main;
+    For nature kindled in his breast,
+      At that fond dovelet's strain.
+
+    He listen'd till the lay declin'd,
+      As slumber o'er them stole:
+    "_Home, home, sweet home!_" methought they sang;
+      It enter'd to his soul.
+
+    He linger'd till the moon came forth,
+      With radiance pure and pale,
+    And then his hardy crew he rous'd,
+      "Up! up! and spread the sail."
+
+    "Now, whither goest thou, master bold?"
+      No word the sea-king spake,
+    But at the helm all night he stood,
+      Till ruddy morn did break.
+
+    "See, captain, yon unguarded isle!
+      Those cattle are our prey;"
+    Dark grew their brows, and fierce their speech:
+      No word he deign'd to say.
+
+    Right onward, o'er the swelling wave,
+      With steady prow he bore,
+    Nor stay'd until he anchor'd fast,
+      By Denmark's wave-wash'd shore.
+
+    "Farewell, farewell, brave men and true,
+      Well have you serv'd my need;
+    Divide the spoils as best ye may,
+      Rich boon for daring deed."
+
+    He shook them by the harden'd hand,
+      And on his journey sped,
+    Nor linger'd till through shades he saw,
+      His long-forsaken shed.
+
+    Forth came the babe, that when he left,
+      Lay on its mother's knee;
+    She rais'd a stranger's wondering cry:
+      A fair-hair'd girl was she!
+
+    His far-off voice that mother knew,
+      And shriek'd in speechless joy,
+    While, proudly, toward his arms she drew
+      His bashful, stripling boy.
+
+    They bade the fire of pine burn bright,
+      The simple board they spread;
+    And bless'd and welcom'd him, as one
+      Returning from the dead.
+
+    He cleans'd him of the pirate's sin,
+      He donn'd the peasant's stole,
+    And nightly from his labours came,
+      With music in his soul.
+
+    "Father! what mean those words you speak
+      Oft in your broken sleep?
+    _The doves! the doves!_ you murmuring cry,
+      And then in dreams you weep:
+
+    "Father, you've told us many a tale,
+      Of storm, and battle wild;
+    Tell us the story of the doves,"
+      The peasant-father smil'd:
+
+    "Go, daughter, lure a dove to build
+      Her nest in yonder tree,
+    And thou shalt hear the tender tone,
+      That lured me back to thee."
+
+
+
+
+The War-Spirit.
+
+
+    War-spirit! War-spirit! how gorgeous thy path
+    Pale earth shrinks with fear from thy chariot of wrath,
+    The king at thy beckoning comes down from his throne,
+    To the conflict of fate the armed nations rush on,
+    With the trampling of steeds, and the trumpets' wild cry,
+    While the folds of their banners gleam bright o'er the sky.
+
+    Thy glories are sought, till the life-throb is o'er,
+    Thy laurels pursued, though they blossom in gore,
+    Mid the ruins of columns and temples sublime,
+    The arch of the hero doth grapple with time;
+    The muse o'er thy form throws her tissue divine,
+    And history her annal emblazons with thine.
+
+    War-spirit! War-spirit! thy secrets are known;
+    I have look'd on the field when the battle was done,
+    The mangled and slain in their misery lay,
+    And the vulture was shrieking and watching his prey,
+    And the heart's gush of sorrow, how hopeless and sore,
+    In those homes that the lov'd ones revisit no more.
+
+    I have trac'd out thy march, by its features of pain,
+    While famine and pestilence stalk'd in thy train,
+    And the trophies of sin did thy victory swell,
+    And thy breath on the soul, was the plague-spot of hell;
+    Death laudeth thy deeds, and in letters of flame,
+    The realm of perdition engraveth thy name.
+
+    War-spirit! War-spirit! go down to thy place,
+    With the demons that thrive on the woe of our race;
+    Call back thy strong legions of madness and pride,
+    Bid the rivers of blood thou hast open'd be dried,
+    Let thy league with the grave and Aceldama cease,
+    And yield the torn world to the Angel of Peace.
+
+
+
+
+Early Recollections.
+
+
+The years of my childhood passed away in contentment and peace. My lot
+was in humble and simple industry; yet my heart was full of gladness,
+though I scarcely knew why. I loved to sit under the shadow of the
+rugged rocks, and to hear the murmured song of the falling brook.
+
+I made to myself a companionship among the things of nature, and was
+happy all the day. But when evening darkened the landscape, I sat down
+pensively; for I was alone, and had neither brother nor sister.
+
+I was ever wishing for a brother who should be older than myself, into
+whose hand I might put my own, and say, "Lead me forth to look at the
+solemn stars, and tell me of their names." Sometimes, too, I wept in my
+bed, because there was no sister to lay her head upon the same pillow.
+
+At twilight, before the lamps were lighted, there came up out of my
+bosom, what seemed to be a friend. I did not then understand that its
+name was Thought. But I talked with it, and it comforted me. I waited
+for its coming, and whatsoever it asked of me, I answered.
+
+When it questioned me of my knowledge, I said, "I know where the first
+fresh violets of spring grow, and where the lily of the vale hides in
+its broad green sheath, and where the vine climbs to hang its purple
+clusters, and where the forest nuts ripen, when autumn comes with its
+sparkling frost.
+
+"I have seen how the bee nourishes itself in winter with the essence of
+flowers, which its own industry embalmed; and I have learned to draw
+forth the kindness of domestic animals, and to tell the names of the
+birds which build dwellings in my father's trees."
+
+Then Thought enquired, "What knowest thou of those who reason, and to
+whom God has given dominion over the beasts of the field, and over the
+fowls of the air?" I confessed, that of my own race I knew nothing, save
+of the parents who nurtured me, and the few children with whom I had
+played on the summer turf.
+
+I was ashamed, for I felt that I was ignorant. So I determined to turn
+away from the wild herbs of the field, and the old trees where I had
+helped the gray squirrel to gather acorns, and to look attentively upon
+what passed among men.
+
+I walked abroad when the morning dews were lingering upon the grass, and
+the white lilies drooping their beautiful heads to shed tears of joy,
+and the young rose blushing, as if it listened to its own praise. Nature
+smiled upon those sweet children, that were so soon to fade.
+
+But I turned toward those whose souls have the gift of reason, and are
+not born to die. I said, "If there is joy in the plant that flourishes
+for a day, and in the bird bearing to its nest but a broken cherry, and
+in the lamb that has no friend but its mother, how much happier must
+they be, who are surrounded with good things, as by a flowing river, and
+who know that, though they seem to die, it is but to live for ever."
+
+I looked upon a group of children. They were untaught and unfed, and
+clamoured loudly with wayward tongues. I asked them why they walked not
+in the pleasant paths of knowledge. And they mocked at me. I heard two
+who were called friends, speak harsh words to each other, and was
+affrighted at the blows they dealt.
+
+I saw a man with a fiery and a bloated face. He was built strongly, like
+the oak among trees; yet his steps were weak and unsteady as those of
+the tottering babe. He fell heavily, and lay as one dead. I marvelled
+that no hand was stretched out to raise him up.
+
+I saw an open grave. A widow stood near it, with her little ones. They
+looked downcast, and sad at heart. Yet, methought it was famine and
+misery, more than sorrow for the dead, which had set on them such a
+yellow and shrivelled seal.
+
+I said, "What can have made the parents not pity their children when
+they hungered, nor call them home when they were in wickedness? What
+made the friends forget their early love, and the strong man fall down
+senseless, and the young die before his time?" I heard a voice say,
+"Intemperance. And there is mourning in the land, because of this."
+
+So I returned to my home, sorrowing; and had God given me a brother or a
+sister, I would have thrown my arms around their neck, and entreated,
+"Touch not your lips to the poison cup, and let us drink the pure water
+which God hath blessed, all the days of our lives."
+
+Again I went forth. I met a beautiful boy weeping, and I asked him why
+he wept. He answered, "Because my father went to the wars and is slain;
+he will return no more." I saw a mournful woman. The sun shone upon her
+dwelling. The honeysuckle climbed to its windows, and sent in its sweet
+blossoms to do their loving message. But she was a widow. Her husband
+had fallen in battle. There was joy for her no more.
+
+I saw a hoary man, sitting by the wayside. Grief had made furrows upon
+his forehead, and his garments were thin and tattered. Yet he asked not
+for charity. And when I besought him to tell me why his heart was heavy,
+he replied faintly, "I had a son, an only one. From his cradle, I
+toiled, that he might have food and clothing, and be taught wisdom.
+
+"He grew up to bless me. So all my labour and weariness were forgotten.
+When he became a man, I knew no want; for he cherished me, as I had
+cherished him. Yet he left me to be a soldier. He was slaughtered in the
+field of battle. Therefore mine eye runneth down with water, because the
+comforter that should relieve my soul returns no more."
+
+I said, "Show me, I pray thee, a field of battle, that I may know what
+war means." But he answered, "Thou art not able to bear the sight."
+"Tell me, then," I entreated, "what thou hast seen, when the battle was
+done."
+
+"I came," he said, "at the close of day, when the cannon ceased their
+thunder, and the victor and vanquished had withdrawn. The rising moon
+looked down on the pale faces of the dead. Scattered over the broad
+plain were many who still struggled with the pangs of death.
+
+"They stretched out the shattered limb, yet there was no healing hand.
+They strove to raise their heads, but sank deeper in the blood which
+flowed from their own bosoms. They begged in God's name that we would
+put them out of their misery, and their piercing shrieks entered into my
+soul.
+
+"Here and there horses, mad with pain, rolled and plunged, mangling with
+their hoofs the dying, or defacing the dead. And I remember the mourning
+for those who lay there; of the parents who had reared them, or of the
+young children who used to sit at home upon their knee."
+
+Then I said, "Tell me no more of battle or of war, for my heart is sad."
+The silver-haired man raised his eyes upward, and I kneeled down by his
+side.
+
+And he prayed, "Lord, keep this child from anger, and hatred, and
+ambition, which are the seeds of war. Grant to all that own the name of
+Jesus, hearts of peace, that they may shun every deed of strife, and
+dwell at last in the country of peace, even in heaven."
+
+Hastening home, I besought my mother, "Shelter me, as I have been
+sheltered, in solitude, and in love. Bid me turn the wheel of industry,
+or bring water from the fountain, or tend the plants of the garden, or
+feed a young bird and listen to its song, but let me go no more forth
+among the vices and miseries of man."
+
+
+
+
+Huguenot Fort,
+
+AT OXFORD, MASSACHUSETTS.
+
+
+      I stood upon a breezy height, and marked
+    The rural landscape's charms: fields thick with corn,
+    And new-mown grass that bathed the ruthless scythe
+    With a forgiving fragrance, even in death
+    Blessing its enemies; and broad-armed trees
+    Fruitful, or dense with shade, and crystal streams
+    That cheered their sedgy banks.
+
+                                     But at my feet
+    Were vestiges, that turned the thoughts away
+    From all this summer-beauty. Moss-clad stones
+    That formed their fortress, who in earlier days,
+    Sought refuge here, from their own troubled clime,
+    And from the madness of a tyrant king,
+    Were strewed around.
+
+                          Methinks, yon wreck stands forth
+    In rugged strength once more, and firmly guards
+    From the red Indian's shaft, those sons of France,
+    Who for her genial flower-decked vales, and flush
+    Of purple vintage, found but welcome cold
+    From thee, my native land! the wintry moan
+    Of wind-swept forests, and the appalling frown
+    Of icy floods. Yet didst thou leave them free
+    To strike the sweet harp of the secret soul,
+    And this was all their wealth. For this they blest
+    Thy trackless wilds, and 'neath their lowly roof
+    At morn and night, or with the murmuring swell
+    Of stranger waters, blent their hymn of praise.
+    Green Vine! that mantlest in thy fresh embrace
+    Yon old, grey rock, I hear that thou with them
+    Didst brave the ocean surge.
+
+                                  Say, drank thy germ
+    The dews of Languedoc? or slow uncoiled
+    An infant fibre, mid the fruitful mould
+    Of smiling Roussillon? or didst thou shrink
+    From the fierce footsteps of a warlike train
+    Brother with brother fighting unto death,
+    At fair Rochelle?
+
+                      Hast thou no tale for me?
+    Methought its broad leaves shivered in the gale,
+    With whispered words.
+
+                           There was a gentle form,
+    A fair, young creature, who at twilight hour
+    Oft brought me water, and would kindly raise
+    My drooping head. Her eyes were dark and soft
+    As the gazelle's, and well I knew her sigh
+    Was tremulous with love. For she had left
+    One in her own fair land, with whom her heart
+    From childhood had been twined.
+
+                                     Oft by her side,
+    What time the youngling moon went up the sky,
+    Chequering with silvery beam their woven bower;
+    He strove to win her to the faith he held,
+    Speaking of heresy with flashing eye,
+    Yet with such blandishment of tenderness,
+    As more than argument dissolveth doubt
+    With a young pupil, in the school of love.
+    Even then, sharp lightning quivered thro' the gloom
+    Of persecution's cloud, and soon its storm
+    Burst on the Huguenots.
+
+                             Their churches fell,
+    Their pastors fed the dungeon, or the rack;
+    And mid each household-group, grim soldiers sat,
+    In frowning espionage, troubling the sleep
+    Of infant innocence.
+
+                          Stern war burst forth,
+    And civil conflict on the soil of France
+    Wrought fearful things.
+
+                             The peasant's blood was ploughed
+    In with the wheat he planted, while from cliffs
+    That overhung the sea, from caves and dens,
+    The hunted worshippers were madly driven
+    Out 'neath the smiling sabbath skies, and slain,
+    The anthem on their tongues.
+
+                                  The coast was thronged
+    With hapless exiles, and that dark-haired maid,
+    Leading her little sister, in the steps
+    Of their afflicted parents, hasting left
+    The meal uneaten, and the table spread
+    In their sweet cottage, to return no more.
+    The lover held her to his heart, and prayed
+    That from her erring people she would turn
+    To the true fold of Christ, for so he deemed
+    That ancient Church, for which his breast was clad
+    In soldier's panoply.
+
+                           But she, with tears
+    Like Niobe, a never-ceasing flood,
+    Drew her soft hand from his, and dared the deep.
+    And so, as years sped on with patient brow
+    She bare the burdens of the wilderness,
+    His image, and an everlasting prayer,
+    Within her soul.
+
+                      And when she sank away,
+    As fades the lily when its day is done,
+    There was a deep-drawn sigh, and up-raised glance
+    Of earnest supplication, that the hearts
+    Severed so long, might join, where bigot zeal
+    Should find no place.
+
+                           She hath a quiet bed
+    Beneath yon turf, and an unwritten name
+    On earth, which sister angels speak in heaven.
+
+When Louis Fourteenth, by the revocation of the Edict of Nantz,
+scattered the rich treasure of the hearts of more than half a million of
+subjects to foreign climes, this Western World profited by his mad
+prodigality. Among the wheat with which its newly broken surface was
+sown, none was more purely sifted than that which France thus cast away.
+Industry, integrity, moderated desires, piety without austerity, and the
+sweetest domestic charities, were among the prominent characteristics of
+the exiled people.
+
+Among the various settlements made by the Huguenots, at different
+periods upon our shores, that at Oxford, in Massachusetts, has the
+priority in point of time. In 1686, thirty families with their
+clergyman, landed at Fort Hill, in Boston. There they found kind
+reception and entertainment, until ready to proceed to their destined
+abode. This was at Oxford, in Worcester county, where an area of 12,000
+acres was secured by them, from the township of eight miles square which
+had been laid out by Governor Dudley. The appearance of the country,
+though uncleared, was pleasant to those who counted as their chief
+wealth, "freedom to worship God." They gave the name of French River to
+a stream, which, after diffusing fertility around their new home,
+becomes a tributary of the Quinabaug, in Connecticut, and finally merged
+in the Thames, passes on to Long Island Sound.
+
+Being surrounded by the territory of the Nipmug Indians, their first
+care was to build a fort, as a refuge from savage aggression. Gardens
+were laid out in its vicinity, and stocked with the seeds of vegetables
+and fruits, brought from their own native soil. Mills were also erected,
+and ten or twelve years of persevering industry, secured many comforts
+to the colonists, who were much respected in the neighbouring
+settlements, and acquired the right of representation in the provincial
+legislature.
+
+But the tribe of Indians by whom they were encompassed, had, from the
+beginning, met with a morose and intractable spirit, their proffered
+kindness. A sudden, and wholly unexpected incursion, with the massacre
+of one of the emigrants and his children, caused the breaking up of the
+little peaceful settlement, and the return of its inmates to Boston.
+Friendships formed there on their first arrival, and the hospitality
+that has ever distinguished that beautiful city, turned the hearts of
+the Huguenots towards it as a refuge, in this, their second exile.
+Their reception, and the continuance of their names among the most
+honoured of its inhabitants, proved that the spot was neither
+ill-chosen, nor uncongenial. Here, their excellent pastor, Pierre
+Daille, died, in 1715. His epitaph, and that of his wife, are still
+legible in the "Granary Burying Ground." He was succeeded by Mr. Andrew
+Le Mercier, author of a History of Geneva. Their place of worship was in
+School Street, and known by the name of the French Protestant Church.
+
+About the year 1713, Oxford was resettled by a stronger body of
+colonists, able to command more military aid; and thither, in process of
+time, a few of the Huguenot families resorted, and made their abode in
+those lovely and retired vales.
+
+A visit to this fair scenery many years since, was rendered doubly
+interesting, by the conversation of an ancient lady of Huguenot
+extraction. Though she had numbered more than fourscore winters, her
+memory was particularly retentive, while her clear, black eye, dark
+complexion, and serenely expressive countenance, displayed some of the
+striking characteristics of her ancestral clime, mingled with that
+beauty of the soul which is confined to no nation, and which age cannot
+destroy. This was the same Mrs. Butler, formerly Mary Sigourney, whose
+reminiscences, the late Rev. Dr. Holmes, the learned and persevering
+annalist, has quoted in his "Memoir of the French Protestants."
+
+With her family, and some other relatives, she had removed from Boston
+to Oxford, after the revolutionary war, and supposed that her brother,
+Mr. Andrew Sigourney, then occupied very nearly, if not the same precise
+locality, which had been purchased by their ancestor, nearly 150 years
+before. During the voyage to this foreign clime, her grandmother was
+deprived by death of an affectionate mother, while an infant only six
+months old. From this grandmother, who lived to be more than eighty, and
+from a sister six years older, who attained the unusual age of
+ninety-six, Mrs. Butler had derived many legends which she treasured
+with fidelity, and related with simple eloquence. Truly, the voice of
+buried ages, spake through her venerated lips. The building of the fort;
+the naturalization of French vines and fruit-trees in a stranger soil;
+the consecrated spot where their dead were buried, now without the
+remaining vestige of a stone; the hopes of the rising settlement; the
+massacre that dispersed it; the hearth-stone, empurpled with the blood
+of the beautiful babes of Jeanson; the frantic wife and mother snatched
+from the scene of slaughter by her brother, and borne through the waters
+of French River, to the garrison at Woodstock; all these traces seemed
+as vivid in her mind, as if her eye had witnessed them. The traditions
+connected with the massacre, were doubtless more strongly deepened in
+her memory, from the circumstance that the champion who rescued his
+desolated sister from the merciless barbarians, was her own ancestor,
+Mr. Andrew Sigourney, and the original settler of Oxford.
+
+Other narrations she had also preserved, of the troubles that preceded
+the flight of the exiles from France, and of the obstacles to be
+surmounted, ere that flight could be accomplished. The interruptions
+from the soldiery to which they were subject, after having been shut out
+from their own churches, induced them to meet for Divine worship in the
+most remote places, and to use books of psalms and devotion, printed in
+so minute a form, that they might be concealed in their bosoms, or in
+their head-dresses. One of these antique volumes, is still in the
+possession of the descendants of Gabriel Bernon, a most excellent and
+influential man, who made his permanent residence at Providence, though
+he was originally in the settlement at Oxford.
+
+Mrs. Butler mentioned the haste and discomfort in which the flight of
+their own family was made. Her grandfather told them imperatively, that
+they must go, and without delay. The whole family gathered together, and
+with such preparation as might be made in a few moments, took their
+departure from the house of their birth, "leaving the pot boiling over
+the fire!" This last simple item reminds of one, with which the poet
+Southey deepens the description of the flight of a household, and a
+village, at the approach of the foe.
+
+    "The chestnut loaf lay broken on the shelf."
+
+Another Huguenot, Henry Francisco, who lived to the age of more than one
+hundred, relates a somewhat similar trait of his own departure from his
+native land. He was a boy of five years old, and his father led him by
+the hand from their pleasant door. It was winter, and the snow fell,
+with a bleak, cold wind. They descended the hill in silence. With the
+intuition of childhood, he knew there was trouble, without being able to
+comprehend the full cause. At length, fixing his eyes on his father, he
+begged, in a tremulous voice, to be permitted "just to go back, and get
+his little sled," his favourite, and most valued possession.
+
+A letter from the young wife of Gabriel Manigault, one of the many
+refugees who settled in the Carolinas, is singularly graphic. "During
+eight months we had suffered from the quartering of the soldiers among
+us, with many other inconveniences. We therefore resolved on quitting
+France by Night. We left the soldiers in their beds, and abandoned our
+house with its furniture. We contrived to hide ourselves in Dauphiny
+for ten days, search being continually made for us; but our hostess,
+though much questioned, was faithful and did not betray us."
+
+These simple delineations, more forcibly than the dignified style of the
+historian, seem to bring to our ears the haughty voice of Ludovico
+Magno, in his instrument revoking the edict of Henry IV.: "We do most
+strictly repeat our prohibition, unto all our subjects of the pretended
+reformed religion, that neither they, nor their wives, nor children, do
+depart our kingdom, countries, or lands of our dominion, nor transport
+their goods and effects, on pain, for men so offending, of their being
+sent to the gallies, and of confiscation of bodies and goods, for the
+women."
+
+The information derived from this ancient lady, who, in all the virtues
+of domestic life, was a worthy descendant of the Huguenots, added new
+interest to their relics, still visible, among the rural scenery of
+Oxford. On the summit of a high hill, commanding an extensive prospect,
+are the ruins of the Fort. It was regularly constructed with bastions,
+though most of the stones have been removed for the purposes of
+agriculture. Within its enclosure are the vestiges of a well. There the
+grape vine still lifts its purple clusters, the currant its crimson
+berries, the rose its rich blossoms, the asparagus its bulbous head and
+feathery banner.
+
+To these simple tokens which Nature has preserved, it might be fitting
+and well, were some more enduring memorial added of that pious, patient,
+and high-hearted race, from whom some of the most illustrious names in
+different sections of our country, trace their descent with pleasure and
+with pride.
+
+
+
+
+"I have seen an end of all Perfection."
+
+
+I have seen a man in the glory of his days, in the pride of his
+strength. He was built like the strong oak, that strikes its root deep
+in the earth; like the tall cedar, that lifts its head above the trees
+of the forest.
+
+He feared no danger, he felt no sickness; he wondered why any should
+groan or sigh at pain. His mind was vigorous like his body. He was
+perplexed at no intricacy, he was daunted at no obstacle. Into hidden
+things he searched, and what was crooked he made plain.
+
+He went forth boldly upon the face of the mighty deep. He surveyed the
+nations of the earth. He measured the distances of the stars, and called
+them by their names. He gloried in the extent of his knowledge, in the
+vigour of his understanding, and strove to search even into what the
+Almighty had concealed.
+
+And when I looked upon him, I said with the poet, "What a piece of work
+is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and
+moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in
+apprehension, how like a god!"
+
+I returned, but his look was no more lofty, nor his step proud. His
+broken frame was like some ruined tower. His hairs were white and
+scattered, and his eye gazed vacantly upon the passers by. The vigour of
+his intellect was wasted, and of all that he had gained by study,
+nothing remained.
+
+He feared when there was no danger, and when there was no sorrow, he
+wept. His decaying memory had become treacherous. It showed him only
+broken images of the glory that was departed.
+
+His house was to him like a strange land, and his friends were counted
+as enemies. He thought himself strong and healthful, while his feet
+tottered on the verge of the grave.
+
+He said of his son, "he is my brother;" of his daughter, "I know her
+not." He even inquired what was his own name. And as I gazed mournfully
+upon him, one who supported his feeble frame and ministered to his many
+wants, said to me, "Let thine heart receive instruction, for thou hast
+seen an end of all perfection."
+
+I have seen a beautiful female, treading the first stages of youth, and
+entering joyfully into the pleasures of life. The glance of her eye was
+variable and sweet, and on her cheek trembled something like the first
+blush of morning; her lips moved, and there was melody; and when she
+floated in the dance, her light form, like the aspen, seemed to move
+with every breeze.
+
+I returned; she was not in the dance. I sought her among her gay
+companions, but I found her not. Her eye sparkled not there, the music
+of her voice was silent. She rejoiced on earth no more.
+
+I saw a train, sable, and slow paced. Sadly they bore toward an open
+grave what once was animated and beautiful. As they drew near, they
+paused, and a voice broke the solemn silence.
+
+"Man, that is born of a woman, is of few days, and full of trouble. He
+cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow,
+and never continueth in one stay."
+
+Then they let down into the deep, dark pit, that maiden whose lips, but
+a few days since, were like the half-blown rosebud. I shuddered at the
+sound of clods falling upon the hollow coffin.
+
+Then I heard a voice saying, "earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to
+dust." They covered her with the damp soil, and the uprooted turf of the
+valley, and turned again to their own homes.
+
+But one mourner lingered to cast himself upon the tomb. And as he wept,
+he said, "There is no beauty, nor grace, nor loveliness, but what
+vanisheth like the morning dew. I have seen an end of all perfection."
+
+I saw a fair white dwelling, behind shady trees. Flowers were cultivated
+around it. The clustering vine wreathed above its door, and the woodbine
+looked in at its windows. A mother was there fondling her young babe.
+Another, who had just learned to lisp its first wishes, sat on the
+father's knee. He looked on them all with a loving smile, and a heart
+full of happiness.
+
+I returned, the flowers had perished, the vine was dead at the root.
+Weeds towered where the woodbine blossomed, and tangled grass sprung up
+by the threshold where many feet used to tread. There was no sound of
+sporting children, or of the mother singing to her babe.
+
+I turned my steps to the church-yard. Three new mounds were added there.
+That mother slept between her sons. A lonely man was bowing down there,
+whose face I did not see. But I knew his voice, when he said in his low
+prayer of sorrow, "Thou hast made desolate all my company." The tall
+grass rustled and sighed in the cold east wind. Methought it said,
+"See, an end of all perfection."
+
+I saw an infant with a ruddy brow, and a form like polished ivory. Its
+motions were graceful, and its merry laughter made other hearts glad.
+Sometimes it wept, and again it rejoiced, when none knew why. But
+whether its cheeks dimpled with smiles, or its blue eye shone more
+brilliant through tears, it was beautiful.
+
+It was beautiful, because it was innocent. And careworn and sinful men
+admired, when they beheld it. It was like the first blossom which some
+cherished plant has put forth, whose cup sparkles with a dew-drop, and
+whose head reclines upon the parent stem.
+
+Again I looked. It had become a child. The lamp of reason had beamed
+into his mind. It was simple, and single-hearted, and a follower of the
+truth. It loved every little bird that sang in the trees, and every
+fresh blossom. Its heart danced with joy, as it looked around on this
+good and pleasant world.
+
+It stood like a lamb before its teachers, it bowed its ear to
+instruction, it walked in the way of knowledge. It was not proud, or
+stubborn, or envious; and it had never heard of the vices and vanities
+of the world. And when I looked upon it, I remembered our Saviour's
+words, "Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter into the
+kingdom of heaven."
+
+I saw a man whom the world calls honourable. Many waited for his smile.
+They pointed to the fields that were his, and talked of the silver and
+gold which he had gathered. They praised the stateliness of his domes,
+and extolled the honour of his family.
+
+But the secret language of his heart was, "By my wisdom have I gotten
+all this." So he returned no thanks to God, neither did he fear or serve
+him. As I passed along, I heard the complaints of the labourers who had
+reaped his fields, and the cries of the poor, whose covering he had
+taken away.
+
+The sound of feasting and revelry was in his mansion, and the unfed
+beggar came tottering from his door. But he considered not that the
+cries of the oppressed were continually entering into the ears of the
+Most High.
+
+And when I knew that this man was the docile child whom I had loved, the
+beautiful infant on whom I had gazed with delight, I said in my
+bitterness, "_I have seen an end of all perfection_." So I laid my mouth
+in the dust.
+
+    THE END.
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Gall & Inglis logo]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Olive Leaves, by Lydia Howard Sigourney
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