« ForrigeFortsett »
THE FAULTY MISTRESS.
been led to think it was a want of reflection-ignor- || mies, and say, “Of all places on earth deliver me from ance of the effect of your manner on those around you. the kitchen of a pious woman. I tried Mrs. G., a Do you not perceive that ill-humor is contagious—that Universalist, Mrs. F., a Deist, and Mrs. S., a real Owif you angrily demand labor it will be impatiently per- enite-Fanny Wright woman, but Mrs. Fretful can outformed? A woman's philosophy is deep enough to scold them all.” It would be particularly mortifying to comprehend this. You go to the kitchen with a cloud | you, should such a representation be made abroad. If on your brow, and on entering it let out lightning and your girl keeps on in the good way, she may not say thunder. Under this guise of intemperate rage, can it for the sake of the Church. If she backslides, she the domestics meet you with smiles? It would be will be apt to take this method to excuse her apostasy. folly to expect it. You must be a good natured wife If she should keep silent under the provocation which if
you would have a good natured husband. It is not I know you have given her, it proves that the maid is less true that you must be a smiling mistress if you more discreet than her mistress. would have your maidens smile. If you were a ser Now, cousin, I write thus plainly, not to provoke in vant, could you make up your temper to meet a petu- you greater errors, but to cure existing faults. Let me lant shirew with soft cadences and honeyed words? Not be heard, and don't get angry. You know I am an you. Now you must reflect, that the maid, as well as old friend, as well as a tolerably old man. Should the mistress, is a woman. She has in her all your sus- you take this kindly, I may write again; and believe ceptibilities and humors, and they are liable to the same me, that although I am a little rough in this episprovocations in her as in you.
tle, I have for you the kindest feelings in the world. I would have you pay particular attention to your|| And if I have arrayed your vices before you in a bold countenance. The phiz is talismanic. You say I don't and withering light, I have not forgotten your virtues. believe in Mesmerism. That's right. But you believe Those I inscribe, as you here behold, on paper; these I that one's tears or smiles may set sympathy to work in have written on my heart. those around. One sneeze in a company of twenty Your affectionate friend and cousin, will provoke ten sneezes. I must tell you, cousin,
Paul Cexson. that your face is particularly ugly under a cloud. It may be because it is so especially otherwise in sunshine. They told me when I was young that gravity Praying unto God without communion, is like didn't become me. I looked in the glass and found it talking to a man who neither gives an answer, nor a was a fact. I then tried to smile; but I couldn't keep smile, nor yet a look. No persons find a heart to pray it up. My nature was to look sour, and I had just to who feel no fellowship with God. Fain would we give up to it. Yet it has destroyed all my popularity, grow notable by doing; it suits our legal spirit; but we and for ever will. But you are made on another scale. can only grow valiant and successful by believing. You can smile, and if you will just turn to the glass a Believing is the Christian's trade and maintenance. few times, in the same fix as when you are saying to By it he obtains pardon and holiness. Naked faith, Sally, “There it is, as usual—the victuals all spoiled,” or a whole and simple trust in Jesus, is the Gospel inI believe you will not assume another frown or scold strument which brings salvation. But though faith another lesson till dooms-day. It will frighten you to alone, apart from its fruit, is the saving instrument, yet see yourself.
it cannot be alone, or without its fruit, where it is saNow let me say a word on another subject. You ving faith, as St. James declares. Saving faith brings are a professor. For sixteen years you have been a heavenly peace, purifies the heart, overcomes the world. member of the Church. Sally joined the Church six If you are not a real subject of Jesus Christ, you must months ago, and is now warm in her first love. She be a stranger to the blessings of his kingdom. The went to live with you in preference to others, because riches are not bestowed upon the outward court worshe expected you to help her in religion. To her shipers. You must come within the vail, which is there was a charm in family prayer, and the devotional | now rent open for access, before you a reconciled Fathassociations of a pious household. I ask you, now, er, and feast upon his grace. If Jesus Christ kept his whether your manners are such as will tend to confirm court in your bosom, he would make peace there, for her faith, and lead her close to the Savior. You said he is the prince of peace. Where he reigns, he comthe other day that you would rather have any sort of a mands peace. How can Jesus be your King, if he girl than a Church member. I have heard others speak does not rule in your breast? How can you call in the same rash manner. When things come to this Christ a Savior, if he does not save you from your point, there is great wrong somewhere. Either the sins? I must watch against sin, and pray against it mistress should accuse the maid, or the maid the mis- too; yet not rely upon my own strength to conquer it, tress, and one or the other should be churched forth- but wholly trust in Jesus, as my king, to subdue my with. I advise you never to say this again. It is an will, my tempers, my affections, by his Spirit. I must imputation on Christ and his religion. Indeed, I would wholly trust in Jesus, as my priest, to wash my guilty suggest whether your conscience does not convict you conscience in his purple fountain, and clothe my naked of this fact, namely, that Sally might with show of soul in his righteousness.—Berridge's Christian World reason, go to Mrs. D., or Mrs. M., your greatest ene- || Unmasked.
From the London Imperial Magazine.
delight! The simple elegance and innate beauty of the DIVINE PHILANTHROPY. pink, the carnation, the tulip, the rose, the lily, the hyaThe philanthropy of God is displayed in the exten-cinth, the ranunculus, and a thousand other of nature's sive range through the fair fields of science in which beauties, give a secret charm that is irresistibly pleasthe human mind may rove.
ing! The delicacy of their forms and tints vibrates Here intelligence wanders from flower to flower, from on the fine, the attenuated, though unknown springs of tree to tree, from plant to plant, from grove to grove, our intellectual powers. In fact, whatever branch of from sea to sea, from shore to shore. Every vegetable, nature's productions strikes the eye, whether the stateand mineral, and fossil, and atom, is fraught with won-ly oak of the forest, or the spire of grass on earth's ders. Every particle of atmospheric air, every drop of flowery carpet, all, all declare the goodness of God. water, in the ocean's bed, every hill and mountain, ev. If we turn our attention to those classes of animated ery spire of grass, and leaf of the trees, is full of the beings which soar in the air, their fine forms, and beauwonder-working hand of God. Every animal, insect, tiful plumage, diversified with the richest colors, from and quadruped, all animated existence, is full of God. the small humming-bird of the grove, to the golden Or, shall we leave the vernal scenery, pass the silver eagle which soars towards the resplendent orb of day; cloud, and soar beyond, where “ Aurora sprinkles with from the charmingly formed pheasant of the wood, to rosy fingers the eastern sky;" and quitting this earthly the spangled peacock, that struts with conscious pride ball, “shoot across the spheres beyond the comet's path-through the farm-yard, cannot fail to arrest our attenless track;" or visit our neighboring planets, whether tion, and command our admiration. The violet, red, near the source of central fire, or on the utmost verge yellow, and golden dresses, with which nature has decof sol's wide domain; or leaving our system, and dart, orated their elegant bodies, both to temper the sumon lightning's wing, from star to star, from system to mer's blaze and winter's storms, must inspire the most system, from nebula to nebula, until poor Terra has savage breast with pleasurable sensations! Nature sunk to an obscure spot, and at last our sun entirely here, as everywhere, abounds with an endless variety. disappears? Here the human mind may wander among Asia, Africa, Europe, and America, have their peculiar lost star-beams, or plunge into unfathomable space; and, birds, endued with a melody of voice, and clothed with wrapped in silent astonishment, adore that supremely an elegance of plumage, and an exuberance of glowglorious Being, who is God over all, blessed for ever! |ing color, that bespeak the existence of a Being su
But let us confine our observations to those things premely wise, great, and good; but the pleasing sensathat come more immediately under our observations. tions they excite in man, can only be fully known by How is the philanthropy of God manifested in the for- a sight of their beauties, or by the hearing of their mation of the human body; in its preservation, and in notes. The innate characteristics of beauty and perall the wonders of sensation! How well designed is fection are so strongly interwoven in the works of naevery object around us to give pleasure to a rational | ture, that man is fond of tracing her inimitable forms, mind! The senses of man connect him with the and penciling her rarest flowers. The highest perfecwhole visible creation. The eye, finished internally tion of art is that which gives the strongest imitation and externally by the finger of God, in pleasing seren of her fair productions, delicate tints, and pure expresity surveys the distant landscape. Millions of rays of sion. Man has only to copy her, to arrive at perfeclight fall every moment upon its minute retina, and tion. She has been his surest guide in all works of paint earth's various scenes. But these are transcend-taste. ed in wonder by the phenomena of the human mind, Her “rows of reverend elms,” cedars, and poplars, which, being sensible of the existence of material ob- suggested the first idea of the pure taste of Grecian arjects, holds an incomprehensible connection with the chitecture; and hence arose the fine orders of the Dorwhole visible creation.
ic, Ionic, and Corinthian columns. Hence the triumOur perception and conception of objects are alikephal arches, vast colonnades, exuberant foliage, profuse mysterious and wonderful. The most plausible theo- beauties and sublimities, of the ancients, that have justries of the greatest geniuses that have adorned ourly astonished succeeding generations, and that will reworld, leave us in the dark. But although we cannot main monuments of perfection while sun and moon account philosophically for the manner of our percep. endure. tions, the mere savage must feel penetrated with pleas The embryo shell of the feathered choir, the globose urable sensations, when the grand spectacle of nature drops of water, and the bells of flowers, are the standfalls on the organ of vision.
ards of our most elegant porcelain forms, and other Every prospect is beautiful, sublime, and infinitely works of art; and we have only to modify and diversidiversified. The towering mountain, the majestic pre- fy ad infinitum, to perpetuate the beautiful. cipice, the meandering river, the placid sky, the ruffled Had the benevolent God given to man only the sense or unruffled elements; whether frowning in tremen-of seeing, the objects of perception would have furdous grandeur, or smiling in silent sunshine; all are nished inexhaustible sources of delight. But he has blended with beauty and sublimity, and furnish occa-l increased his sensations by an addition of diversified orsions for so many sensations either of joy or pain. gans. The ear, although internally situated, commuThe chaste and softer forms of nature impart unmixed l nicates with external objects. The air serves the triple
purpose of purifying the blood by the lungs, feeding the expiring flame of life, and of strangely communicating with the mind. By vibrating on the tympanum of the ear, millions of multiplied effects strike the soul, as an instrument ever tuned to catch its varied tones; whether occasioned by the gentle zephyr that steals softly on its trembling strings, the reverberating echo that rushes back from the winding caves, or the murmuring waters that whisper their soft soothing accents on the weary traveler's ear!
The trembling motion of the air, that gently brushes over a thousand fragrant sweets in nature's garden, regales our sense of smelling with an exhilerating effect, that beggars human language! O, how charming art thou, most bountiful nature! Shall I ever forget the smell of the cowslip, the primrose, the honeysuckle, or the wild rose-of the pink, the carnation, or the intoxicating pleasure of the night-violet? Shall I ever forget the paradisiacal effect produced on me by the combined fragrance of sweetbriar, of thyme, of jessamine, of a thousand mingled odoriferous perfumes drunk in from the pure source of nature's garden!
Shall I cease to remember the murmuring of distant waters, the falling cascade, the cooing of the turtle, the soft note of the cuckoo, the wild carol of the woodlark, the mellifluous pipe of the blackbird, or the thrilling ecstasy of the nightingale ? No, I shall not forget the artless concert of nature's full choir. The ecstatic swell of harmony poured from a thousand throats, the fragrant perfumes of a thousand sweets, must charm inevitably the most savage breast!
“These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Thus wondrous fair, thyself how wondrous then!" How full the concert, how complete, how charming! every performer plays its part. Each pretty little songster is pleased with its own existence, with its mate, with surrounding nature, and praises the benevolent Author of all its blessings. And shall man, ungrateful man, refuse to render praise to that God who gave him life, and being, and immortality ?
TO A BRIDE.
Can yield, without some base alloy-
One single gleam of real joy? Did e'er the city yield delight,
Or give the anxious soul repose, Except religion shed its light,
And pour'd its balm, to heal our woes? Or rural scenes e'er fill the heart,
Or give the troubled conscience rest, Without religion to impart
The consciousness of being blest? No, 'tis religion only can
Assure the heart of sins forgiven, And show to dark bewildered man
The path that leads from earth to heaven.
The more divinely beautiful thou art,
Fresh from the bosom of an Alpine hill,
BY BISHOP MORRIS.
It leads families to discuss their private business in the LOQU A CITY.
presence of strangers, which is improper. It betrays many individuals into the very impertinent and annoy. ing practice of catechising civil travelers as to their
residence, destination, name, and business. This is an LOQUACITY, which, according to Walker, means extremely rude practice. Loquacity interrupts the har“ too much talk,” is a fault as disagreeable as it is com- mony of conversation; for a talkative individual will
It is not restricted to either sex. The reader often break in upon another while speaking, which is must not infer, because this brief article appears in the embarrassing and uncourteous. It makes people apLadies' Repository, that I judge women to be more pear self-important and unteachable. For example, faulty in this respect than men. In either it is unlove when a minister of the Gospel calls on a talkative famly, and when indulged to excess, becomes reprehensi-ily, instead of being heard as their religious teacher, ble in the estimation of all judicious people.
he is compelled to keep silence, and listen to their desLoquacity is objectionable, because it savors of van- ultory harangues, perhaps all speaking at once, till his ity. It indicates that the speaker wishes to bring him-| time and patience are exhausted, or retire abruptly. self into notice by a display of words; and, conse- To visit such a family, except for the purpose of teachquently, that be presumes much upon his own intelli- ing them better manners, is a waste of time. gence, and upon the ignorance of others, as if they In some instances, loquacity is an infirmity of old knew nothing until he enlightened them. The talka. | age, and in others, of partial insanity, and in all such tive individual seems, also, to take it for granted, that cases should be endured with patience. But in young his neighbors have leisure and patience to be lectured and sane persons it is usually a defect of education, or by the hour, on any subject which fancy, inclination, of natural judgment, or both together. It leads some or accident may lead him to introduce. This is a great very young persons, like saucy children, to monop mistake in most cases. Such a character would do olize the time in conversation, to the exclusion of the well to study the import of Solomon's maxim, “Aaged and experienced. This is very indiscreet. Few fool's voice is known by multitude of words."
things are more disgusting than the frivolous conversaAgain-loquacity is troublesome. It breaks in on tion of young people to each other in the presence of the regular calling of all who have the misfortune to seniors. Well educated and sensible young people, of be assailed by it. Few things are more annoying to both sexes, always pay respect to strangers and seniors, a man of business or a man of study, than to be fre- however inferior their accomplishments may be; but quently interrupted by the idle and loquacious. It the ignorant and talkative respect no one, and of course embarrasses him in his necessary avocation, and of || no person respects them. They are radically defective course chafes his feelings; and, unless he possesses un- in sound understanding, and in civility, and therefore common forbearance, lays him under temptation to rude- | introduce their uncalled for questions and topics, withness of manner. There are individuals in every exten- out regard to circumstances. sive community who seem to have no employment but A few individuals, of loquacious habits, are sufficient to talk. They are generally very willing souls to give to cause general confusion in a large social company; direction concerning the business of others, while they || because no one of them is willing to be a hearer—they neglect their own; for, as Solomon said, “every fool all speak at once, which produces sound without sense, will be meddling.” But they are as poor counselors as very much resembling the gabble of a large flock of they are unpleasant companions. Let it not be sup- geese. Hence it is that social parties seldom afford any posed that talkative characters are peculiar to this age instructive or profitable conversation, on subjects of or country. Paul said, “There are many unruly and general interest. vain talkers, and deceivers, especially they of the cir I have not the vanity to suppose that this short essay cumcision, * whose mouths must be stopped;" || on loquacity will reform any confirmed talker; but it and he instructed Titus to “rebuke them sharply." may possibly be the means of preventing some individ
It is frequently observed, that they who talk most do uals from becoming such; and with that result I should it to least purpose. Public speakers, of a loquacious not only be content, but feel amply rewarded for the ladisposition, are generally diffusive; they often lack bor of writing. point, and obscure their arguments by a superabun. It is admitted that there is an opposite extreme to dance of words. If they be members of deliberative loquacity; that is, taciturnity, or habitual silence. This bodies, they are apt to become troublesome, lose their is also a fault to be guarded against. Very diffident influence, and sometimes secure to themselves an un- and reserved persons, are most liable to fall into this erenviable notoriety. Such orators might profit by the ror. Often, when a few words might be spoken to the advice of St. James, “Let every man be swift to hear,|| edification of some individual, or company, they keep slow to speak, slow to wrath."
silence, from timidity, or disinclination to talk, and A loquacious disposition leads to many indiscretions, thereby lose an opportunity of doing good. Man is a of which some examples may here be furnished. It | social being. It is wisdum in all to cultivate social influences confidentials to divulge secrets, betray confi- habits and feelings; and one of the best means of dodence, and produce open ruptures between neighbors. lling so, is a familiar, friendly conversation. When we
engage in social converse, it should be to instruct, im- || preservative from temptation; for however severe may be press, amuse, or gain information; and as some one of the toil of our chosen vocation, it cannot be so irksome these objects may be effected with any civil companion, as resistance to pressing temptation, nor so painful as there is no necessity of confining our conversation to a the consequences of yielding to its power. We should few select friends. Extreme taciturnity is not profitable, never forget that industry is a great help to virtue, and or commendable. Still, I am of the opinion, that to say that its opposite is the patron of all vice. too little is a less fault than to say too much, and, in Indolence drives us into evil company. The indusdeed, that it is better to say nothing than to speak un- trious will not assort with the idle. They cannot, advisedly.
without a change of habits; for they have not leisure. There is, between the two extremes of loquacity and An idle person chooses not to be alone. He lothes his taciturnity, a happy medium-that of speaking on a own company. And not being able to command the atsuitable subject, at the right time, and in a proper man- tentions of the diligent and the virtuous, he forms alliner, so as to accomplish some good purpose. If all ances with such, as like himself, have no business to would endeavor to speak thus, much idle and unprofit-employ them, and find time a heavy and intolerable able talk would be dispensed with. Fine colloquial burden. powers are among the choicest accomplishments of hu Idleness brings want; not that every one must labor man life. If properly employed, they may be rendered with the hands to procure the comforts of life, but he exceedingly entertaining and instructive. They afford must employ himself some way. Even if born to a their possessor ready and easy access to society, and fortune, some degree of diligence will be requisite to great facilities in accomplishing any object for which preserve it. And he whom indolence renders poor is he is dependent on the co-operation of others; provi- generally ripe for any wickedness. “I cannot dig,” is ded, always, that they be not used too freely. To be his first resolve—“to beg I am ashamed,” will be his able to say enough on all occasions, without saying too second; next comes petty larceny, after that larger much, is a rare attainment. It is the perfection of hu- | transgressions, and finally robbery, murder, and their man converse, which every individual should aim to sequences. approximate as far as practicable.
Laziness in woman is generally, if no worse, a guileful disposition. Not one time in a thousand will an
indolent female be found a sincere, an honest woman. Original.
Amidst the dash and slop of a filthy kitchen, and a disON DILIGENCE.
ordered drawing-room, you will find deceit and falseIr is natural to abhor a lazy being. Even the indo-hood constant guests. Excuses as false as they are lent detest in others what they indulge in themselves. foolish will be attempted as soon as you enter her premWe cannot tolerate a lazy brute. There are reasons ises. And in efforts to blind you to her domestic faults, for this spontaneous and almost universal hatred of the idle woman often contracts the habit of deceiving, idleness. What are they?
till it enters into all her conversation and behavior. Idleness is the parent of ignorance. We know that Industry rescues from many causes of uneasiness, knowledge is not acquired without labor. We are di- saves from many hours of irksome reflection, hushes rected, therefore, to seek for wisdom as for hid treasure. | many turbulent passions, and guards against many deThe indolent, averse as they are from study, grow up structive temptations. It tends to render us happy in with unfurnished minds, and when they come to years, ourselves, and useful to others, by relieving the necesare children in understanding. The imagination is al- | sitous, teaching the ignorant, and assuaging the sorways more or less active; for the soul, in some of its rows of the afflicted. The industry here spoken of faculties, must exert its immortal energies. It must regards our worldly avocations. Christian diligence is busy itself, whether we will or no. It cannot cease another thing. It is more noble in its aims, and is from efforts of some sort, either useful or injurious, pressed upon us by higher and more solemn consideragood or evil. Not being directed to that which is prof- tions. Its reward is supremely excellent and desirable, itable, it becomes a deformed spirit, destitute of the and to neglect it will bring upon us the greatest possigraces and accomplishments of science.
ble evil. If it be not unreasonable to labor for tempoIdleness is the parent of wickedness. Virtue re- ral good, how much more should we employ our enerquires that we pursue some innocent end, as our own gies to secure the approbation and smiles of God, the support, or that of a family, if circumstances require society of saints and angels, and an inheritance incorit; if not, then the good and happiness of our fel- | ruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away! In this low men. The diligent are tempted by one, the in-high and holy calling we are especially warned to be dolent by a legion of devils. Temptations will gener- diligent. “Work out your own salvation with fear ally multiply in proportion to the leisure which we in- and trembling; for it is God that worketh in you to dulge in. This is inevitable; for as the mind cannot will and to do of his good pleasure.” be unoccupied, unless we employ it in the pursuits of Happy are they who trust in God, not with a pasvirtue, it will set itself on plotting evil. Let us be al- sive but with an active faith-a faith which rouses ways busy, then, in devising or executing some scheme to humble effort, and induces the soul to use all diliof benevolence. Let us accustom ourselves to toil as a l gence to make its calling and election sure. H.