DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. BY MRS. C. L. BALFOUR. THE great secret is to learn to bear with each other's failings: not to be blind to them, that is either an impossibility or a folly; we must see and feel them; if we do neither they are not evils to us, and there is obviously no need of forbearance but to throw the mantle of affection round them concealing them from all other eyes; to determine not to let them chill the affections; to resolve to cultivate good-tempered forbearance because it is the only way of mitigating the present evil, always with a view to ultimate amendment. Surely it is not the perfection but the imperfection of human character that makes the strongest claim on love. All the world must approve, even enemies must admire the good and the estimable in human nature. If husband and wife estimate only that in each which all must be constrained to value, what do they more than others? It is infirmities of character, imperfections of nature, that call for the pitying sympathy, the tender compassion, that make each the comforter-the monitor of the other. Forbearance helps each to attain command over themselves. Few are the creatures so utterly evil as to abuse a generous confidence, a calm forbearance. Married persons should be pre-eminently friends, and fidelity is the great privilege of friendship. The forbearance here contended for is not a weak and wicked indulgence of each other's faults, but such a calm, tender observance of them as excludes all harshness and anger, and takes the best and gentlest methods of pointing them out in the full confidence of affection. If people are to be help-mates, this must arise by being in each other's full confidence both as to the strength and weakness of the character; to have such a method of promoting the good and checking the evil of the heart as shall least wound the self-esteem of the husband, and the love of approbation of the wife. "Speaking the truth in love," should be the motto of every married pair. Oh, what a world would ours be if the apostle's injunction were carried out! The truth, pure, perfect; but often most hard, most painful. Spoken in love, -the good of the object, the motive of the speech: the tenderness as unmistakeable as the truth, where is the heart that could resist it? Not thine, O thoughtful husband, feeling thy manhood the more ennobled in that thou hast a wise, as well as sweet companion, who honours thee too much to doubt thy ability to bear the truth, who loves thee too well to utter it painfully. Who can resist the might of gentleness? Not thou, O wife, rightly feeling that withholding a wholesome truth because it may be unpalatable, is treating thee not as a rational being, but as a spoiled child—a pet, a plaything; not a friend, not even a companion; the sweet drops of love in the draught shall neutralize the bitter; it is a tonic to strengthen thee for the future. In all cases there must be the truth and the love; the two must go together; separate they create only confusion. Their union was indeed made in heaven, and is the truest emblem of the heavenly. One of the strongest prudential arguments in favour of good temper is because of this necessity of each being monitor to each. How much has manner to do with every sentiment! How many a phase of charity may be so harshly uttered as to convey only bitterness; how many a pungent rebuke so gaily aud affectionately spoken as to strike home to the conviction without wounding the heart! Our dispositions, our intentions, who can know them? Our manners, all can judge of them. Cheerfulness of countenance, gaiety of manner, who shall tell their worth? Happy are those of whom it may be said in the language of one of the most spiritual of our female poets : "In her utmost lightness there is truth-and often she speaks lightly, For the root of some grave earnest thought is understruck so rightly, Another prudential argument on the government of the temper and generous forbearance, is, that it insures respectful consideration and deference. Ă violent man, a petulant woman, may selfishly and foolishly yield to the promptings of an evil will, the ebullition of an unbridled spirit; but such manifestation is sure ultimately to recoil on themselves. The peace they have violated they must woo back by bitter or mean compliances, humiliating apologies, petty excuses, all alike repugnant to a really noble nature, but the well-merited, though inadequate punishment of despotism or caprice. A common mistake prevails in reference to certain exhibitions of character. Some people suppose that great mildness in man or woman is an evidence of tameness, not to say weakness; while an hasty, exuberant, impetuous spirit is by some theorists thought to be an evidence of strength. Power, whether of mind, or matter, is calm, and often silent. The light that throws its robe of beauty over all is quiet; the shallow stream that a child can wade goes brawling on its way, while the river rolls its vast volume calmly along. A quiet nature that can reflect where others rebuke, is the strong nature, and by the very force of its innate power must rule, because it has no impetuosity to atone for, no rashness to deplore. It inspires confidence by its self-control, enforces esteem by its discretion, wins or retains affection by its gentleness. If a married pair both possessed such a well-poised, equable temper, few and far between would be misunderstanding and dispute. If they differed, as they might, they would agree to differ. Each would render a reason which would be respected, if not adopted by the other, (I speak not of important matters, where authority decides, but of daily trifles); peace to such a pair would be paramount. "Are not our interests one, our loves one, our joys one, our sorrows one? Shall a trifle break this unity?" Reason, to say nothing of affection, answers a decided "No," to such a query. But it is hoping too much, in this strangely assorted world of ours, to suppose that two mild tempers should meet. The law of contrast, of which mention has been made, forbids; the violent and the gentle, the self-controlled and the capricious, are often mated: with these the duty of forbearance requires that the strong should bear the burden of the weak. Hear silently, O gentle wife! thy husband's gusty words. Opposition would and increase the storm. Let it pass; a time will come when his but pro heart will tell him, though his lips say it not, that it was ungenerous thus to have spoken, not so much because he was in the wrong, as because thou wert so gentle; thy mild brow will rise to his recollection, and rebuke him far more than words. Each fit of passion shall grow weaker under thy voiceless censure, till he become in some measure like the gentle being he loves. Yes, "bear and forbear" while the tempest rages, but take an opportunity, in justice to thyself and him, at some calm, holy time, when his heart is open to right influences, to expostulate, to admonish. Let him not think thee insensible: be not so misunderstood; but let him know the wrong was felt though not resented. It requires tact and delicacy to do this, but it can be done to mutual advantage. Be not severe to mark, or rigorous to condemn, O calm, thoughtful husband! the caprices of thy petulant wife. Prevent steadily and mildly the folly, if thou canst; if not, wait till haste is over, till you are alone, aud then appeal to reason, if she have a brain; to love, if she have a heart; to interest, if she have neither. Assert thy power, but so mildly that she must respect, so justly that she must repent. In time the petulance, the vanity shall cease, and she shall reflect thine image. The wise and the good-tempered are not guiltless concerning their less favoured fellow-creatures. Strong in their own superior calmness, they think it sufficient to parade their own excellence, forgetting that good temper is a talent to be employed in cultivating the same grace in others. Much ill-temper subsists through the bad methods taken by the good-tempered to subdue it. Irritation, not healing is the consequence of injudicious interference. It is strange that people who are apt to be ruffled on every slight occasion do not perceive how completely their tranquillity and happiness are at the mercy of trivial accidents. The comfort of such persons is the sport of circumstances, a look, a word, a mischance, matters which no foresight could prevent, and which may happen continually, and must happen often to all, and their serenity is destroyed, and peace exiled. How miserable the pair whose domestic happiness can be thus disturbed; who, instead of having peace as an inward principle, look for it in external matters, and become the victims of every little disappointment, every perverse accident! They are the slaves of servants, the tool of guests, the impatient drudges in a house of bondage, who can be tormented and fretted by the meanest person and the most trivial chance, nay, whose ill humour actually provides the implements of torture to be used against them by others. Yet, what, after all, O married pair! are human rules except based on divine precepts? What are earthly plans if they do not embody heavenly principles ? Yours should be "the perfect love that casteth out fear;" the love that is "without dissimulation;" the love that "suffereth long and is kind;" the love that "vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up;" the love that "is not easily provoked, that thinketh no evil;" the love that "beareth all things, endureth all things." This is the love that shall irradiate earth and rekindle in heaven. This is "the story without an end that angels throng to hear." Happy human pair who are the depository of this love. Ye have been taught of Him who renders all other teaching superfluous; for you, the word forbearance has a wide significance, an individual as well as relative application. It means to you, "forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath for 90 FATE OF AN INFIDEL'S SON. given you." Ye need no human benediction as ye walk together in the calm light of your tranquil joy; yet those who take note of you as hand in hand ye go, relieve their full hearts by saying,—“ God bless you!” THE LAST WILL. AN Irish boy, going one day to a Bible school, met a popish priest who was not so averse to the scriptures as most of his brethren are. boy what book it was which he carried under his arm! "It is a will, sir," said the boy. “What will,” rejoined the priest. The priest asked the "The last will and testament that Jesus Christ left to me, and to all who desire to claim a title to the property therein bequeathed,” replied the boy. “What did Christ leave you in that will?” “A kingdom, sir.” "Where does that kingdom lie?" "It is the kingdom of heaven, sir.” "And do you expect to reign as a king there ?” "Yes, as joint-heir with Christ.” "And will not every person get there as well as you ?" 66 'No, sir: none can get there but those that claim their title to that kingdom on the ground of this will." 66 You The priest asked several other questions, to which the boy gave such satisfactory answers as quite astonished him. Indeed," said he, "you are a good little boy; take care of the book wherein God gives you such precious promises, believe what he has said, and you will be happy here and hereafter. But when you read the word of God, remember that you cannot understand the wondrous things in it of God's law until your eyes are opened by the Spirit of God. must pray to God for his Spirit to enlighten you in the knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ. You remember that when Hagar and her son Ishmael were cast out from the house of Abraham, the child was ready to perish for thirst, and that although there was a well of water near at hand, she knew not of it until the Lord sent his angel to point it out to her. Therefore, you must wait upon God for his Spirit." FATE OF AN INFIDEL'S SON. A REMARKABLE shrewd boy was introduced to the school, who quickly outstripped us all in the facility with which he achieved any task set before him; for, in fact, he learned everything offered as a lesson without the slightest appearance of effort. This boy was visibly a source of deep pain to our teacher, for his great intellectual superiority was counterpoised by moral baseness quite as marked. He was, indeed, a thorough grief and trouble to our master. Though private admonitions and conversations were anxiously combined with punishments and encouragements, they never produced anything more than a verbal promise of improvement, and the lad continued as remarkable for his crafty falsehoods as for his mental ability. Mr. Byrth, no doubt, felt a presentiment of what would be the terrible results if this boy's habits were not corrected, and therefore he laboured most patiently to improve them, but in vain. Some evidence of the injurious effects of his influence on others beginning to appear, he was expelled, and this gave occasion for an impressive lecture on the necessity of discipline and docility, which I remember well from the circumstance of being struck with the sorrow of our teacher. I saw his tears then, albeit he was not given to the melting mood. That boy became an abandoned young man and was hung at Newgate. I mention the circumstance with an awful feeling, and with a conviction that Mr. Byrth grieved over that poor boy, with a consciousness that his early childhood had been neglected, and that the consequences would be dreadful. His father was, I think, a freethinker; and I know that the boy's memory was stored with scraps of French plays and Voltaire's tales. -Moncrieff's Remains of Dr. Byrth. MILTON. POETRY. Wrapped in the radiance of Thy sinless Which eye hath never seen. Visions come and go; Shapes of resplendent beauty round me From angel lips I seem to hear the flow It is nothing now, In a purer clime Roll in upon my spirit-strains sublime Give me now my lyre! RETROSPECT. WHEN in this vale of years I backward look, And miss such numbers,-numbers, too, Firmer in health, and greener in their age, YOUNG. |