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LETTERS
YOUNG LADIE S.
f
MRS. L'HŠIGOURNEY.
A NEW EDITION:
WITH TUO ADDITIONAL LETTERS NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.
" Every sort of useful knowledge should be imparted to the
young, not merely for its own sake, but for the sake of its
subserviency to higher things."--MRS. HANNAH MORE.
LONDON:
JACKSON AND WALFORD.
EDINBURGH: W. INNES.
1841.
Entered at Stationers' Hall.
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE TO THE FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. ...
vii
TY
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE PRESENT EDITION . . . . viii
ADDRESS TO THE GUARDIANS OF FEMALE EDUCATION, .
LETTER I.
VALUE OF TIME
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LETTER II.
RELIGION. . .
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LETTER III.
KNOWLEDGE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
39
277236
1.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
LETTER IV.
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INDUSTRY . . .
57
LETTER V.
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS. · · · · · · · ·
LETTER VI.
HEALTH AND DRESS.
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LETTER VII.
MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS, . . . . .
100
LETTER VIII.
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
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116
LETTER IX.
BOOKS.
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LETTER X.
FRIENDSHIP. .
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149
LETTER XI.
CHEERFULNESS. . . . . . .
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162
LETTER XII.
CONVERSATION. . . . .
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CONTENTS.
LETTER XIII.
PAGE
EVENING THOUGHTS . .
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188
LETTER XIV.
SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS . .
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LETTER XV.
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BENEVOLENCE .
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LETTER XVI.
SELF-CONTROL.
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LETTER XVII.
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS. . . . . . . . . . .
252
LETTER XVIII.
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE. . . . . .
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270
PREFACE
TO THE FIRST AMERICAN EDITION.
7
I have been requested to address a few thoughts
to the youth of my own sex, on subjects of simple
nature, and serious concern. The employment
has been pleasant, for their interests are dear to
me; and several years devoted to their instruction,
have unfolded more fully their claims to regard,
and the influence they might exercise in society.
Should a single heart, in “life's sweet blossoming
season,” derive, from this volume, aid, guidance, or
consolation, tenfold satisfaction will be added to
the pleasure with which it has been composed.
HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT,
March, 1833.
ADVERTISEMENT.
1
The present Edition of " Letters to Young
Ladies," having not only been carefully revised by
the Author, during her visit to England, but
having received the addition of two new Letters,
with other original matter, is thereby rendered
more valuable than the work, which, under the
same title, has already passed through several
editions in America.
LONDON,
March, 1841.
INTRODUCTION.
In preparing these Letters to Young Ladies,
the mind has been often naturally turned to those
who direct their education, either as parents,
instructors, or rulers of popular opinion. The
thoughts thus suggested, though they may com-
prise nothing new, are offered without apology,
since every form of mental culture is now con-
sidered worthy to prompt the studies of the sage,
the plans of the political economist, or the labours
of the patriot. “The mind of the present age
acting on the mind of the next” is an object of
concern to every being endowed with intellect, or
interested, through love or hope, in the welfare of
the human race. Our age admits this sentiment;
and we see not only the practical man and the
theorist, but the divine, the philosopher, and the
poet, devising modes of nurture for the unfolding
B
.
INTRODUCTION.
1
:
mind, and striving to make useful knowledge the
guest of the common people.
In this proposed elevation of the intellectual
standard, the female sex are allowed freely to
participate. No Moslem interdict continues to
exclude them from the temple of knowledge, and
no illusion of chivalry exalts them at once above
life's duties and its joys. Grateful for these
heightened privileges, and believing that an in-
crease of liberality might be profitable both to the
giver and receiver, we solicit it for the daughters
of our country,—the rose-buds, the birds of song,
who make our homes so beautiful.
Is it not desirable that the education of females
should be extended over a wider space of time ?-
that it should be less encumbered by extraneous
objects?—that the solidity of its foundation should
bear more accurate proportion to the ornament of
its superstructure? Is it not important that the
sex to whom Nature has entrusted the moulding
of the whole mass of mind in its first formation,
should be acquainted with the structure and deve-
lopments of mind ?--that they who are to nurture
the future rulers of a prosperous people, should
be able to demonstrate, from the broad annal of
history, the value of just laws, and the duty of
subordination ?-the blessings which they inherit,
and the danger of their abuse? Is it not requisite,
INTRODUCTION.
ti
11
that they on whose bosom the infant heart must
be cherished, should be vigilant to watch its earliest
pulsations of good or evil ?-that they who are
commissioned to light the lamp of the soul, should
know how to feed it with pure oil ?-that they in
whose hand is the welfare of beings never to die,
should be fitted to perform the work, and earn the
plaudit of Heaven?
The natural vocation of females is to teach. In
seminaries, academies, and schools, they possess
peculiar facilities for coming in contact with the
unfolding and unformed mind. It is true that
only a small proportion are engaged in the de-
partments of public and systematic instruction;
yet the hearing of recitations, and the routine of
scholastic discipline, are but parts of education.
It is in the domestic sphere, in her own native
province, that woman is inevitably a teacher.
There she modifies, by her example, her depen-
dants, her companions, every dweller under her
own roof. Is not the infant in its cradle her
pupil? Does not her smile give the earliest lesson
to its soul? Is not her prayer the first messenger
for it in the court of Heaven? Does she not
enshrine her own image in the sanctuary of the
young child's mind, so firmly that no revulsion can
displace, no idolatry supplant it? Does she not
guide the daughter, until placing her hand in
B 2
INTRODUCTION.
that of her husband, she reaches that pedestal
from whence, in her turn, she imparts to others
the stamp and colouring which she has herself
received ? Might she not, even upon her sons,
engrave what they shall take unchanged, through
all the mutations of time, to the bar of the last
judgment? Does not the influence of woman rest
upon every member of her household, like the
dew upon the tender herb? like the sunbeam
educating the young flower? like the gentle shower
and the tireless stream, cheering and invigorating
the proudest tree of the forest?
Admitting then, that whether she wills it or not,
whether she even knows it or not, she is still a
teacher,--and perceiving that the mind in its most
plastic state is yielded to her tutelage,-it becomes
a momentous inquiry what she shall be qualified
to teach. Will she not of necessity impart what
she most prizes, and best understands? Has she
not power to impress her own lineaments on the
next generation? If wisdom and utility have
been the objects of her choice, society will reap
the benefit. If folly and self-indulgence are her
prevailing characteristics, posterity are in danger
of inheriting the likeness.
This influence is most visible and operative in
a republic. There the intelligence and virtue of
every citizen have a heightened relative value.
INTRODUCTION.
D
.
Its safety is interwoven with the destiny of those
whose birthplace is in obscurity. The springs of
its vitality may be touched, or the chords of its
harmony troubled, by the rudest hands.
Under such a form of government, teachers
should be held in the highest honour. They are
the allies of legislators. They have agency in the
prevention of crime. They aid in regulating the
atmosphere whose incessant action and pressure
cause the life-blood to circulate, and return pure
and healthful to the heart of a nation.
Of what unspeakable importance, then, is her
education who gives lessons before any other in-
structor! who preoccupies the unwritten page of
being! who produces impressions which only
death can obliterate, and mingles with the cradle-
dream what shall be read in Eternity! Well
may statesmen and philosophers debate how she
may be best educated who is to educate all
mankind.
The ancient republics strangely overlooked the
value of that sex whose strength is in the heart.
Greece, so susceptible to the principle of beauty,
80 skilled in wielding all the elements of grace,
failed in appreciating their excellence whom these
had most exquisitely adorned. If, in the brief
season of youthful charm, she was constrained to
admire woman as the acanthus-leaf of her own
1
INTRODUCTION.
L
Corinthian capital, she did not discover that, like
that very column, she was capable of adding sta-
bility to the proud temple of freedom. She would
not be convinced that so feeble a hand might have
aided to consolidate the fabric which philosophy
embellished, and luxury overthrew.
Rome, notwithstanding her primeval rudeness,
seems more correctly than polished Greece, to
have estimated the “ weaker vessel.” Here and
there, upon the storm-driven billows of her history,
some solitary form towers upward in majesty ; and
the mother of the Gracchi still stands forth in
strong relief, amid imagery over which time has
no power. But, wherever the brute force of the
warrior is counted godlike, woman is appreciated
only as she approximates to sterner natures; as
in that mysterious image which troubled the sleep
of Assyria's king, the foot of clay derived its sole
consistence from the iron which held it in combi-
nation.
In our own country, man has conceded to her
who was for ages in vassalage-equality of inter-
course, participation in knowledge, dominion over
his dearest and fondest hopes. He is content to
“bear the burden and heat of the day," that she
may dwell in ease and affluence. Yet, from the
very felicity of her lot, dangers are generated.
She is sometimes tempted to be satisfied with
INTRODUCTION.
superficial attainments, or to indulge in that indo-
lence which corrodes intellect, and merges the
high sense of responsibility in its alluring and
fatal slumbers.
· These tendencies should be neutralized by a
thorough and laborious education. Sloth and lux-
ury must have no place in her vocabulary. Her
youth should be surrounded by every motive to
application, and her maturity dignified by the hal-
lowed office of rearing the immortal mind. While
her partner toils for his stormy portion of that
power or glory from which it is her privilege to
be sheltered, let her feel that, in the recesses of
domestic privacy, she renders a noble service to
the government that protects her, by sowing seeds
of purity and peace in the hearts of those who
shall hereafter claim its honours, or control its
destinies.
Her place is amid the quiet shades, to watch the
little fountain ere it has breathed a murmur. But
when the fountain breaks forth into a rill, and the
rivulet rushes toward the sea, who ought to be
better skilled to guide each in right channels, than
she who heard their first ripple--and saw them
emerge like timid strangers from their source
and mingled tears of love with their wanderings
and had kingly power over their infant waters in
the name of Him who caused them to flow?
INTRODUCTION.
And now, Guardians of Education, whether
parents, preceptors, or legislators-you who have
so generously lavished on woman the means of
knowledge--complete your bounty, by urging her
to gather its treasures with a tireless hand. De-
mand of her, as a debt, the highest excellence
which she is capable of attaining. Summon her
to abandon selfish motives and inglorious ease.
Incite her to those virtues which promote the per-
manence and health of nations. Make her ac-
countable for the character of the next generation.
Give her solemn charge, in the presence of men
and of angels. Gird her with the whole armour
of education and of piety,-and see if she be not
faithful to her children, to her country, and to her
God.
LETTERS
TO
YOUNG LADIES.
LETTER I.
VALUE OF TIME.
As nothing truly valuable, my dear young friends,
can be attained without industry, so there can be
no persevering industry without a sense of the
value of time. Youth would be too happy, might
it add to its own beauty and felicity, the wisdom
of riper years. Were it possible for it to realize
the worth of time, as life's receding hours reveal
it, how rapidly would it press on towards perfec-
tion! Too often is the period allotted to education
but imperfectly appreciated till it has actually
departed, and is retraced with regret and re-
pentance. It has been said, that “experience is
a good teacher, but the school-fees are heavy;" and
this we sometimes find, when, having rejected the
11
"
10
VALUE OF TIME.
admonitions of others, we make payment in our
own mistakes and losses.
Still, the young are sometimes found sedulously
regarding the flight of time, and zealously marking
it with mental and moral excellence. Illustrating
in their practice the aspiration of the Psalmist,
they learn "to number their days, that they may
apply their hearts unto wisdom."
Suffer me, then, with the urgency of true friend-
ship, to impress on you the importance of a just
estimate of time. Consider how much is to be
performed, attained, and conquered, ere you are
fitted to discharge the duties which the sphere of
woman comprehends. Think of the brevity of
life. The most aged have compared it to a span
in compass, and to a shuttle in flight. Compute
its bearings upon the bliss or woe of eternity, and
remember, if mispent, it can never be recalled.
Other errors admit of reformation. Lost wealth
may be regained by a course of industry; the
wreck of health repaired by temperance; forgotten
knowledge restored by study; alienated friend-
ship soothed into forgiveness ;-even forfeited re-
putation won back by penitence and virtue. But
who ever again looked upon his vanished hours--
recalled his slighted years, and stamped them with
wisdom—or effaced from Heaven's record the fearful
blot of a wasted life?
The waste of time in youth is a greater evil
than at any other period of existence. “The
VALUE OF TIME.
11
misimprovement of youthful days," says an elegant
writer, “is more than the mere loss of time.
Figure to yourself what the year would sustain
were the spring taken away : such a loss do they
sustain who trifle in youth."
When there is so much to be done for individual
improvement, in the formation of correct habits,
and preparation for untried duty,--so much for
parents and benefactors, to pay even imperfectly
the debt of gratitude, so much for brothers, and
sisters, and friends,—so much for the poor, the un-
educated, the afflicted, --so much in obedience to
Him who hath commanded us to “work out our
own salvation with fear and trembling,"—how
unreasonable is it to do but little, and to do that
little carelessly! how sinful to trifle away our time
in light amusement, or profitless pursuit! It is no
excuse for us, that others devote their days to
desultory pleasures, or pass their youth without
motive and without improvement. Every one
must stand alone to give account at last. The
example of an associate will not be accepted as a
palliation, nor the habit of excuse, however it
might have deceived men, justify us before a Judge
who readeth the intents of the heart.
The successful improvement of time is aided by
order in its distribution. A division of the day
into parts facilitates the successful discharge of its
duties. Many of those who have become eminent
in science and literature have adhered to a syste-
12
VALUE OF TIME.
matic arrangement of time. King Alfred, who so
remedied the defects of early education as to gain
distinction in the field of intellect, as well as in the
annals of royalty, was an example of regularity.
He divided the twenty-four hours into three equal
portions. One of these periods of eight hours was
devoted to the duties of religion; one to repose,
recreation, and literature; and the other to the
cares of his realm. Sir William Jones, who ac-
quired the knowledge of twenty-eight languages,
and whose attainments in all that ennobles man,
were such, that it was pronounced a “happiness
to his race that he was born,” persevered in a
regular allotment of his time to particular occu-
pations, and a scrupulous adherence to the dis-
tribution which he had established. Thus his
great designs went on without confusion; and
so convinced was he of the excellence of daily
system, and so humble in the estimation of his
native endowments, that to the inquiry how his
wonderful attainments had been made, he was
accustomed to reply, only by industry and regular
application.
Though the path of distinction in science and
literature may not be the object of our ambition,
yet in the humblest sphere allotted to our sex,
order and method are of essential importance.
The assigning daily duty to particular hours, helps
to ensure its performance. Our system must often
gield to circumstances, and be subject to inter-
TL
VALUE OF TIME.
S
ruptions; yet, by keeping its features steadily in
view, more will be accomplished, and to better
purpose, than by desultory effort.
Consider every day, my dear young friends, as a
sacred gift from the Author of your being. Divide
it between the duties you owe to Him, to your-
selves, and your fellow-creatures. Remember that
you are held responsible at a higher tribunal than
that of earth, for the manner in which they are
discharged. Keep these three great departments
before the eye of the mind. Proportion the day
between them, as the promised land was divided
among the chosen tribes. Consult those whom it
is your duty to obey or to please, respecting the
appropriation of hours to employments. Use dis-
cretion and kindness in not interfering with the
convenience of those around, and then evince
decision in not yielding to slight obstacles. When
your system is once correctly established, let it be
understood that it is not lightly to be set aside.
When it must unavoidably yield, make the sacri-
fice in the spirit of meekness.
With the first light of the morning, say to your
waking heart, “Behold another day, to be divided
between the Giver, my own improvement, and the
good of those with whom I am associated." Secure
by early rising those hours when the frame is re-
freshed by repose, and the mind clear and vigorous
with consciousness of renovated existence. Com-
mence your day with devotion, the reading of the
14
VALUE OF TIME.
Scriptures, and meditation. As far as possible, let
these sacred duties be in solitude and secrecy, between
yourself and your Maker. Raised by his hand from
the helplessness of slumber, dependent on it for
protection throughout the changes of a day which
may be your last on earth, let the young heart pour
out its gratitude and hope, as living incense on the
breath of the rising morn.
When the celebrated Boerhaave was inquired of,
how he was able to acquire and to perform so much,
he answered, “It is my morning hour of prayer
and meditation that gives me spirit and vigour
during the labours of the day." He enjoined this
practice on his friends, as one of the best rules in
his power to give, conducive both to health of body,
tranquillity of mind, and right conduct under the
various allotments of Providence. Were it neces-
sary to multiply arguments, the example of the
pious in all ages might be adduced to sanction the
practice of hallowing the morning by devotion. The
changes of the day, though it open with the smile
of hope, are unknown. It may lead to unex-
pected trial. It may test the firmness of your soul
by sudden prosperity. It may open the fountain
of tears. It may summon you to that pale assembly
who have no longer any share in the things done
under the sun. It will certainly bring you nearer
to their narrow house. Take, therefore, with you
the solicited guidance of Divine grace; the leadings
of that pure Spirit which can sustain the infirmities
VALUE OF TIME.
15
of our nature, and “what is dark, illumine,--what
is low, raise and support.”.
The second division of the duties of the day
regards yourself. Much is required of the young
to fit themselves for respectability and usefulness
in life. Much is required of our sex, in the pre-
sent state of society, and by the spirit of an age
rapidly advancing in improvement. Be true to every
just expectation. Regard it as a privilege that
much is expected of you. The care of your health,
the advance of your mind in knowledge, dexterity
and diligence in the varied circle of domestic em-
ployment, attention to such accomplishments as your
station may require, the whole field of physical,
mental, and moral culture, which opens before her
who is determined that her husbandry shall not be
faithless, nor her harvest light, is too wide and
diversified to admit of rules being given you by an-
other, except the injunction that, as far as is in your
power, each portion should have its allotted period.
The third department of daily duty regards our
fellow-beings. To be engrossed wholly by our own
pursuits creates selfishness. It is possible for the
intellect to be cultivated at the expense of the heart;
therefore our obligations to those with whom we
travel on " time's brief journey" should be clearly.
defined. The duties which we owe to parents,
benefactors, and teachers, claim a pre-eminent place
in our regard. Though we may not hope to repay
according to what we have received, let us not be
16
VALUE OF TIME.
TTTT
1
deficient in any testimony of gratitude which it is
in our power to render ; for thus, habits of disin-
terested kindness are formed, and our nature pre-
pared for some of its most delightful affections.
There is one virtue which I wish to recommend
to your attention, my young friends, in which the
present age has been pronounced deficient. I mean,
respect to the aged. To“honour the hoary head, and
rise up before the face of the old man," is a com-
mand of Jehovah. Those who have borne the
burdens of life until strength has failed, -in whose
bosoms are treasures of experience to which we are
strangers,—whose virtues are confirmed beyond the
fear of change or fluctuation ----and who, by the short
space that divides their ripened piety from its reward,
may be literally said to be "but a little lower than
the angels," --are surely worthy of the veneration of
youth. Even when age is seen united with in-
firmity of purpose, or decay of those organs through
which the mind has been accustomed to act, it is
entitled to tenderness from those who must them-
selves tread the same path of withered and wearied
energies, unless they go down to an earlier grave.
The aged are soothed by the marked respect of the
young; and the tribute is graceful to those who
render it.
Attention to brothers, sisters, and companions,
culture of social feelings, punctuality in promises,
kindness and courtesy to all, open an important and
interesting sphere of action. Good offices to the
VALUE OF TIME.
17
poor, the uneducated, the afflicted, you will also, as
you have opportunity, comprehend within your
social or relative department of duty.
Close the day by the same sacred services with
which it commenced. Add also the exercise of self-
examination. Compare the performances in each
division of duty, with the requisitions enforced in
the morning. Inquire of the first allotted period,
what hast thou done to render the soul more ac-
ceptable to pure eyes?—of the second, what armour
hast thou given the mind for life's warfare?-of the
third, how hast thou aided the heart to advarice
the happiness of others ? Let the hours bring their
report. Marshalled under their respective leaders,
bid them pass the review of conscience. May it be
found that none have slumbered at their post, none
broken their ranks, none deserted to the enemy!
Something will be gathered from the tablet of the
most faultless day-for regret. Something for en-
couragement. Something for praise to the Giver
of “ every good and perfect gift."
One useful adjunct in this work of self-inspection
is a journal. It seems like the visible presence of
a friend, whose frown makes folly ashamed, and
whose smile gives confidence to virtue. It pre-
serves what else might be forgotten, and plants
way-marks, and scatters mementos, at every foot-
step of our pilgrimage. It gives an artificial length
to life, by clothing the buried past in fresh and
living imagery, and aiding us to retrace,
VALUE OF TIME.
A
"As in a map, the voyager his course,
The winding of our way for many years."
Though in the seclusion of the domestic sphere,
the course of passing events will usually be too
monotonous to justify narration, yet the current of
feeling and sentiment, the authors with whom we
are conversant, and the reflections of a mind in
search of knowledge and truth, will always furnish
something worthy of memorial, so that “no day
need be without its line.” If the habit of writing
a journal is commenced, it should be daily observed,
as its interest declines with any irregularity. Like
a true friend, it cannot bear neglect unmoved.
Those who have tested its utility for years, have
pronounced it a valuable assistant in fixing the eye
of the mind on the never-staying flight of time, and
in keeping vivid in the heart the lessons taught by
the discipline of Heaven. They have also supposed
that they found benefit by copying in its pages,
questions like the following, with their corre-
spondent replies, and adopting them as rules of
conduct:-
1. Will you endeavour to establish a daily syste-
matic division of time, with a view to improvement?
2. Will you ask the concurrence of those whose
wishes and convenience you are bound to consult?
3. Will you not unnecessarily recede from your
system, nor renounce it in despair because it is
often interrupted ?
4. At what hour will you rise ?
0
VALUE OF TIME.
19
5. How much time will you allow to the sacred
duties of the morning ?
6. What part of the day will you devote to the
careful perusal of books for the attainment of useful
knowledge?
7. What period will you allot to the needle, and
the various departments of domestic industry?
8. What part to healthful exercise, accomplish-
ments, and recreation ?
9. What part to the comfort of relatives, friends,
and the family circle ?
10. What period to the relief of poverty, afflic-
tion, and ignorance ?
11. At what hour will you retire to repose ?
12. Will you close the day by religious exercises,
and a careful retrospect of its several hours and
duties?
Attention to such rules will render the passage
of your days delightful, and bring, as their reward,
a crown of wisdom. Do not relinquish your attempts
to realize the value of time, until you have learned
to estimate its smaller portions. An hour faithfully
improved may accomplish much. It was an ex-
cellent rule of Bishop Taylor, at the striking of
every clock, to enter with new vigour upon the
appropriate duty of the new hour, lifting up the
heart in prayer for God's assistance and blessing.
The philosopher was wise who affixed to his study-
door the inscription, " Time is my estate. If I lose
an hour how shall I repay the debt?” In the science
S
c2
20
VALUE OF TIME.
of economy, the sage Franklin enjoined the care
of half-pence. In a system of thorough improvement
of time, the care of half hours is equally essential.
With respect to many of the other gifts of Heaven,
our perception is quick, and our attachment ardent.
We prize beauty because it charms the eye, though
it fades like the summer rose; wealth, because it
purchases the things that we call good, though they
perish in the using; reputation, because the con-
sciousness of it is pleasant, though a breath may
blast it: let us not then forget to value above all
these possessions-time, which may be so improved
as to purchase the bliss of eternity.
“Great God !" says the eloquent Massillon, " for
what purpose dost thou leave us here on earth,
but to render ourselves worthy of thine eternal
inheritance ! Every thing that we do for the world
shall perish with it: whatsoever we do for thee shall
be immortal. And what shall we say to thee on the
bed of death, when thou shalt enter into judgment
with us, and demand an account of the time which
thou didst grant to be employed in glorifying and
serving thee? Shall we say, we have friends to
boast of on earth, but have acquired none to
ourselves in heaven ; we have made every exertion
to please men, and none to please the Almighty?
And shall it be written upon our lives-time lost
for eternity?"
LETTER II.
RELIGION.
In the education of the young, one of our first
inquiries should be, what pursuits are the most in-
dispensable, and what attainments best adapted to
their probable sphere of action. In our estimate
of the sciences, we compute both their present
utility, and their future gain. The most assiduous
attention should be alloted to those which will be
most imperatively demanded. We persevere in
teaching a child to speak, to read, and to write his
native language--because through these mediums
is he to acquire and communicate ideas.
The relative value of attainments is affected by
the different stages and conditions of human life.
Those are held most valuable, which extend their
influence over the greatest space of time. Some
accomplishments are adapted to the season of youth,
and with it pass away. These possess a fugitive
value, when compared with the whole extent of
life. They are like the tint upon the blossom,
which fades that the fruit may ripen.
22
RELIGION.
Some acquisitions depend on the perfection of
the senses. Their standard of value must be also
fluctuating. Where is the exquisite skill of the
engraver-or the delicate touch of the miniature-
painter-when the eye grows dim? Where is the
power of the master of sweet sounds, when the
harp of the ear is broken ?-or of the constructor of
delicate mechanism, when the hand is paralyzed ?
-or of the orator, when the valve of the lungs plays
no more at the bidding of eloquent thought?
It would seem that the purely intellectual sciences
might possess a more inherent value. Partaking
of the nature of the mind, they are less dependent
on the changes of material things. But memory,
the keeper of all knowledge, is subject to accident.
Disease may impair its tenacity, or age destroy it.
· Is there, then, any science which is attainable
at every period of life, and available till its close ?
whose processes are not disturbed though the eye
withdraw its light-or the ear its counselor the
right hand its cunning-or the tongue its music?
whose results are not confused when age gropes in
the mazes of doubt and imbecility?—whose treasures
are not lost, though time, turning as a robber upon
memory, strews the fine gold of its casket on the
winds?
I knew a man, distinguished alike by native
talent and classical acquisition. In his boyhood,
he loved knowledge, and the teachers of knowledge.
He selected that profession which taxes intellect
RELIGION.
23
with the most severity, and became eminent both
in the theory and practice of jurisprudence. While
manhood, and the hopes of ambition, and the joys
of affection, were fresh about him, disease attacked
him, by its fearful minister of paralysis and
blindness. So he lived for years, without the
power of motion, or the blessing of sight. Among
those whom he had served, counselled, and com-
manded, he was but a broken vessel. Yet light
shone inwardly without a cloud. A science which
in youth he had cultivated, continued its active
operations, though the "eye was dim, and the
natural force abated.” Communicating power of
endurance, and opening sources of profitable con-
templation, it brought a cheerful smile to the
brow of that sufferer, who, sightless and motionless
on his bed, was counted by the unreflecting, but as a
wreck of humanity. And this science was religion.
There was a man who had won eminence in the
ranks of fame, and whom his country delighted to
honour. Ennobled both by erudition and inte-
grity, he had walked on the high places of the earth,
“ without spot, and blameless." I saw him, when
almost a hundred winters had passed over him.
Like the aged Gileadite, he was able no longer to
hear the “voice of singing-men, or of singing-
women." The beautiful residence which his taste
had ornamented, spread its charms to an un-
conscious owner. The rose and the vine-flower
breathed their fragrance for others; and the flocks
TO
24
RELIGION.
1
in his green pastures, once his delight, roamed
unheeded.
I bore him a message of love from a friend of
early days, who had stood with him among states-
men, when the nation was in jeopardy, and when
mutual danger draws more closely the bonds of
affection. But the links of friendship, once inter-
woven with the essence of his being, were sun-
dered. Between the recollections that I fain
would have restored, and the speech that clothed
them, there was a “great gulf fixed." Both the
name, and image, of the cherished companion had
fled for ever.
A vase of massy silver was brought forth, on
which his country had caused to be sculptured the
record of his services, and of her gratitude. He
gazed vacantly upon it. No chord of association
vibrated. The love of honorable distinction, so
long burning like a perpetual incense-flame on the
altar of a great mind, had forsaken its temple. I
felt a tear start at the humbling thought, that of
all he had gotten, nothing remained. At parting,
something was mentioned of the Deity, the bene-
ficent Father of us all. Those lips, hitherto so im-
movable, trembled. The cold blue eye sparkled
as through frost. The thin bloodless hand clasped
mine, as he uttered with a startling energy:
“When by the whelming tempest borne,
High o'er the broken wave,
I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save."
RELIGION.
.
And as I slowly passed down the avenue from
that patriarchal mansion, I heard his voice lifted
in prayer, and learned that its spirit might survive
even when the endowments of a mighty intellect,
and the precious consciousness of a pure renown,
were alike effaced from the tablet of remem-
brance.
Among those who serve at God's altar, was one
who had faithfully discharged, through a long life,
the holy duties of his vocation. He lingered, after
his contemporaries had gone to rest. By the
fireside of his only son, he sat in peaceful dignity,
and the children of another generation loved his
silver locks. In that quiet recess, memory was
lulled to sleep. The names of even familiar
things, and the images held most indelible, faded
as a dream. Still he lived on-cheered by that
reverence which is due to the “hoary head when
found in the way of righteousness.” At length
his vigour failed. The staff could no longer
support his tottering steps, and nature tended to
her last repose.
It was attempted, by the repetition of his own
name, to awaken the torpor of memory. But he
replied, “I know not the man." Mention was
made of his only son, the idol of his early years,
whose filial gratitude had taken every form and
office of affection : “ I have no son." The tender
epithet by which he had designated his favourite
grandchild was repeated: “I have no little darling."
26
RELIGION.
Among the group of friends who surrounded his
bed, there was one who spoke of the Redeemer
of man. The aged suddenly raised himself upon
his pillow. His eye kindled as when, from the
pulpit, in the vigour of his days, he had addressed
an audience whom he loved. “I remember that
Saviour. Yes I do remember the Lord Jesus
Christ.”
There seems then to be a science which survives
when the body is powerless - and age sweeps
away the hoarded gems of learning and the em-
blems of fame : which prolongs enjoyment when
memory has departed, and when those affections
which are the first to quicken, and the last to de-
cay, become as cold clay about the heart-strings.
Perceiving that adversity happens to all, the
young would naturally inquire if there is any
science which fortifies against it, or furnishes
armour to resist its shock. For those transitions
from wealth to poverty, which sometimes overtake
the wisest, philosophy proposes an antidote. The
ancient teachers of heathen wisdom offered as a
substitute for the goods of fortune, moderated
desires, and pleasures founded in virtue. - The
Stoics advocated the impracticable theory, that
the soul should be unaffected by all the mutations
of earth. Some of the philosophers of ancient
Greece soared as high as man's wisdom can hope
to reach, without the aid of inspiration. They
counselled man to rise in the majesty of his
RELIGION.
27
nature, above material things. But they took not
into account that latent infirmity, by which, when
“ he would do good, evil was present with him."
Their system was like the cold moonbeam, fading
before the day-star from on high. It was wholly
inadequate to sustain under those severer trials,
the loss of friends, and the darkness that enwraps
the grave. It lay crushed at the tomb, where
the mourner left his fondest affections, or stood
appalled and silent, when the dying passed the
threshold of eternity
It is reserved for a “better covenant" to lead
the desolated heart, not to “sorrow as without
hope.” With what a burst of despair does Quin-
tilian exclaim, after the death of his wife and
children, “All that I now possess, is for aliens,
and no longer mine. Henceforth, my wealth and
my writings, the fruits of a long and painful life,
must be reserved only for strangers !"
The bereaved and eloquent son of the Ame-
rican forests inquires in agony, “Who is there to
mourn for Logan? Not one. There runs not a
drop of my blood in the veins of any living crea-
ture!"
The Idumean, when the destroying angel had
made “ desolate all his company,” acknowledged,
“ The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away:
blessed be the name of the Lord." His grieved
heart bemoaned not his heirless wealth, his un-
transmitted renown, his desolated home; but
28
RELIGION.
turning to the First Unerring Cause, praised the
mercy, which, though concealed in the blackness
of darkness, was mercy still. It is surely a divine
alchemy, which presents, like gold from the refi-
ner's crucible, the spirit purified by the fires that
dissolve it.
A faith, more perfect than the lore which Greek
or Roman taught, is requisite to console the be-
reaved parent, who, taking in his arms his most
cherished idols, bears them, one after the other,
through the dark valley of the shadow of death.
“ Yesterday I saw the brittle broken :-to-day I
see the mortal dead," said Epictetus to the woman,
who one evening regretted her broken vase, and
the next, wept over her lifeless son. But he was
unable to assure her, “Thy dead shall arise again."
"I shall go to him, but he shall not return to
me," said the king of Israel, over the form of his
lifeless infant. “My children are all dead; there
is not one now to stand between me and my God,"
said a christian mother of our own times, as she
turned in sainted meekness to her lonely duties.
But if heathen philosophy failed to soothe the
mourner, to the dying she was still more emphati-
cally “a physician of no value." She might
supply the pride, or excuse the weakness, with
which her votaries rushed upon the dagger's point,
when life was joyless. But to which of them
could she vouchsafe that sweet and holy confidence
with which the departing Hooker exclaimed, “By
RELIGION.
29
God's grace I have loved him in my youth, and
feared him in my age, and laboured to have a
conscience void of offence towards him, and towards
all men."
And now, cherished and lovely beings, just com-
mencing to ascend the hill of life, looking around
you, like timid and beautiful strangers, for the
greenest paths, or the most approved guides on your
devious pilgrimage, if there were a science capable
of imparting unbounded happiness, and of con-
tinuing that happiness when age disqualifies the
mind for other researches-a science which sur-
mounts that grave, where all earthly glory lays down
its laurel, and fixes a firm grasp on heaven when
earth recedes-how must she be pitied who neglects
its acquisition! And there is such a science : and
there is peril in disregarding it. Truly impressive
were the words of Queen Elizabeth's secretary of
state, to the bishops who surrounded his death-bed:
“Ah! how great a pity that we men should not
feel for what end we are born into this world, till
we are just on the point of quitting it.”
If there were a book that astonished both by its
wisdom and its antiquity--that delighted alike by
history, oratory, and poetry--in theory and illus-
tration equally simple and sublime, yielding to the
comprehension of the unlearned, yet revealing to
the critic the finger of Deity--a book which the
wise have pronounced superior to all beside, and
the learned retained for daily study when all others
i
RELIGION.
TIIV
ours of prind, than in all the good
were dismissed-how anxious should we be to
obtain it, how impatient to be made acquainted
with its contents! And there is such a book : and
for want of the knowledge of it, how many regions
of the earth are but the “ habitations of cruelty!"
-"More wisdom, comfort, and pleasure, are to
be found in retiring and turning your heart from
the world, and reading with the good Spirit of God
his sacred word, than in all the courts and all the
favours of princes," said one, who had enjoyed the
pomp and distinction of courts.
If there were a day when it was lawful to turn
from all labour, vanity, and care to take home to
the heart only those images which make it better
-to associate in spirit with the good of all ages,
and with cherubim and seraphim around the throne
-should we not hail its approach amid the weari-
ness of life? And there is such a day. The pious
greet it as a foretaste of heaven's rest. The wise
have pronounceol its influence propitious, even upon
their temporal concerns. “I have found," says
Sir Matthew Hale, “by strict and diligent ob-
servation, that a due observance of the duties of the
Sabbath hath ever brought with it a blessing on
the rest of my time, and the week so begun, hath
been prosperous unto me.”
If there were a friend whose sympathies never
slumbered, whose judgment never erred, whose
power had no limit—a friend acquainted with all our
wants, and able to supply them with our secret
RELIGION.
31
sorrows, and ready to relieve them--should we not
be urgent to gain his favour? And there is such
friend--such a mode of access. “ Eighty-and-six
years have I served him," said the venerable Poly-
carp, “and he hath never done me aught but good.”
-"All things forsake me, except my God, my duty,
and my prayers," said the noble statesman, whose
long life comprehended the reign of five sovereigns
of England, and whose career had been dignified
by the honours most coveted among men.
It would be easy to multiply suffrages in favour
of religion, from those who have been illustrious in
the paths of science, as well as upon the heights of
power. The learned Selden, whose attainments
were so various and profound that he was some-
times called the “living dictionary,” remarks, at the
close of life: “ I have taken pains to know every
thing esteemed worth knowing among men, yet of
all my disquisitions and readings, nothing now re-
mains to comfort me, but this passage of St. Paul:
. It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta-
tion, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save
sinners.'”.„"Our religion," says the clear-minded
Pascal, “awing those whom it justifies, and com-
forting those whom it reproves, so wisely tempereth
hope with fear, that it abases us infinitely more than
unassisted reason could do, yet without driving us
to despair, while it exalts us infinitely more than
the pride of our nature could do, yet without
rendering us vain." We gather collateral testimony
17
3%
RELIGION.
even from heathen lore. Seneca admonishes us,
that “were it not for heavenly centemplations, it
had not been worth our while to have come into
this world."
We cannot but feel that we are beings of a two-
fold nature-that our journey to the tomb is short,
and the existence beyond it immortal. Is there
any attainment that we may reserve when we lay
down the body? We know that of the gold that
perisheth, we may take none with us, when dust
returneth to dust. Of the treasures which the mind
accumulates, may we carry aught with us to that
bourne whence no traveller returns ?
We may have been delighted with the studies of
Nature, and penetrated into those caverns where
she perfects her chemistry in secret. Composing
and decomposing-changing matter into nameless
forms--pursuing the subtilest essences through the
air, and resolving even that air into its original
elements---what will be the gain when we pass
from material to immaterial, and this great museum
and laboratory, the time-worn earth, shall dissolve
in its own central fires ?
We may have become adepts in the physiology
of man-scanning the mechanism of the eye, till
light itself unfolded its invisible laws of the ear,
till its most hidden reticulations confessed their
mysterious agency with sound-of the heart, till
that citadel of life revealed its hermit-policy: but
will these researches be available in a state of being
S
.
RELIGION.
which "eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the
heart of man conceived ?"
Will he who fathoms the waters, and computes
their pressure and power, have need of this skill,
“where there is no more sea?” Will the mathe-
matician exercise the lore by which he measured
the heavens; or the astronomer, the science which
discovered the stars, when called to go beyond
their light?
Those who have penetrated most deeply into the
intellectual structure of man, lifted the curtain from
the birthplace of thought, traced the springs of
action to their fountain, and thrown the veiled and
shrinking motive into the crucible, perceive the
object of their study, taking a new form, entering
disembodied an unknown state of existence, and
receiving powers adapted to its laws and modes of
intercourse.
We have no proof that the sciences, to which
years of labour have been devoted, will survive the
tomb. But the impressions they have made the
dispositions they have nurtured the good or evil
they have helped to stamp upon the soul-will go
with it into eternity. The adoring awe, the deep
humility, inspired by the study of the planets and
their laws--the love of truth, which he cherished,
who pursued the science that demonstrates it--will
find a response among angels and archangels. The
praise that was learned amid the melodies of nature,
or from the lyre of consecrated genius, may pour
TS
34
RELIGION.
.
1
its perfected tones from a seraph's harp. The
goodness taught in the whole frame of creation-
by the flower lifting its honey-cup to the insect, and
the leaf drawing its green curtain round the nursing-
chamber of the smallest bird; by the pure stream,
refreshing the grass and the flocks that feed on it,
the tree, and the master of its fruits; the tender
charity caught from the happiness of the hum-
blest creature—will be at home in His presence,
who hath pronounced himself the “ God of love."
The studies, therefore, which we pursue, as the
means of intellectual delight, or the instruments
of acquiring wealth and honour among men, are
valuable at the close of life, only as they have pro-
moted those dispositions which constitute the bliss
of an unending existence. Tested by its tenden-
cies beyond the grave, Religion, in its bearings and
results, transcends all other sciences. The know-
ledge which it imparts, does not perish with the
stroke which disunites the body from its ethereal
companion. While its precepts lead to the highest
improvement of this state of probation, its spirit is
congenial with that ineffable reward to which we
aspire. It is the preparation for immortality,
which should be daily and hourly wrought out,
amid all the mutations of time.
Viewing it only with reference to the present
life, we perceive its requirements to be privileges.
The day that it hallows--the volume that it gives
as our rule of conduct-the prayerful intercourse
RELIGION.
with heaven that it enjoins the deep penitence-
the fervent trust in a pure and prompting spirit-
the self-denial that it imposes on the wayward and
vengeful passions-its monitions of earth's empti-
ness—its solace under affliction--the chastened
meekness of its lessons in prosperity--the tender
and forbearing love which from a Redeemer's ex-
ample it instils into the heart—tend to renovate,
to fortify, to sublimate the weakness of our nature,
and to make it “meet for the inheritance of the
saints in light.”
Feel it, therefore, my dear young friends, to be
your duty to be religious. If you acknowledge
the sacred obligation to "obey your parents," do
you not owe equal obedience to that Father in
heaven, whose command is, “ Give me thine
heart ?" It is of immense importance that reli-
gion be secured in youth. Those years which so
easily take stamp and colouring from surrounding
objects, impress their own likeness upon a series
of other years. They may determine the cha-
racter through life, and the destinies of eternity.
Suffer me, therefore, to say to those who are in
the fair blossom of their being, that they are un-
safe while they neglect the guidance of religion.
Seek her, sweet friends, with prayer, amid the
hush and holiness of morn, and at eve recall the
day's deeds, and measure them by her standard,
and weigh its words and thoughts in her equal
balance.
D2
36
RELIGION.
Make that religion which regulates the heart
a constant companion. It has been an error to
suppose it should be reserved for the higher and
more trying exigencies of life. Though able to
sustain under the greatest extremity, it is equally
willing to walk in the humblest paths. If it wear
a brighter robe on the sabbath, it is still girded
for the service of every day, and ready to take its
station by their side who invoke its aid. It is
like a thread of gold, to be continually woven into
the web of life. If its clew be laid aside, except
on Sundays, or seasons of prayer, it will be difficult
to resume. It may be either so entangled, or
broken, or tarnished, that the tissue will be unfit
for heaven.
While you are in the pursuit of piety, do not
listen to its teachers in the spirit of criticism, but
reverently and with meekness. Let it not be your
aim to become a sectarian, but a Christian. Avoid
every feature of bigotry-every temptation to
polemical controversy. Never dispute about doc-
trines, or condemn those who may differ from you.
Leave the defence of tenets to those whom Chris-
tendom has appointed the champions of her faith.
It is more fitting for our sex to be the gentle
guardians of the peace and charity of the gospel.
Their piety who were last at the cross, and first at
the sepulchre, should be to cultivate the meekness
of self-denial and the fervour of faith. Receiving
the "truth in love,” remember that every sect has
RELIGION.
produced both good and evil-that all build the
foundation of their belief on the same book, and
place the goal of their hope at the gate of the same
heaven. Praying that through different roads,
every true worshipper may arrive at one glorious
inheritance, occupy yourselves less in scanning the
infirmities of others, than in correcting your own.
Take home to your heart the words of the pious
King Henry, at the death-bed of Cardinal Beau-
fort: "Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.”
Choose not to excel in the knowledge of contro-
verted points, or to convince by pungency of argu-
ment, or to bewilder by fluency of speech ; but
simply to persuade through the “ beauty of holi-
ness."
Endeavour that the distinguishing feature of your
piety should be that love which the Redeemer
marked when on earth, as the test of discipleship,
and in which the primitive Christians wrapped
themselves as a garment, when they went from
persecution to martyrdom, from “ prison unto
death.” Cultivate this spirit in your deportment,
and let it beam from your countenance. There is
no hazard in such emulation. "The desire of
power in excess," says Lord Bacon,“ caused angels
to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess caused
man to fall; but in charity there is no excess
neither man nor angel can be endangered by it."
Religion need not be disjoined from the innocent
pleasures of life. Its province is to heighten
38
RELIGION.
happiness, as well as to sustain toil, or to sanctify
affliction. To confine it to seasons of lonely medi-
tation, or disrobe it of its angel-smile, is a monastic
error. Give it place by the hearth-stone, and in
the walk among the flowers, where heart answers
to heart. Let it have part in the music that cheers
the domestic circle, and in the fond intercourse of
sisterly and fraternal love.
And now, if I have urgently or diffusely incited
the young to the pursuit of the most excellent,
most enduring science, it is because in the book
of divine truth I have seen the pledge of Omni-
potence, that those who“ seek early shall find ;” and
because I have believed, that in the docility of their
happy season, there was an aptitude for its rudi-
ments which time and change might take away.
"
S
LETTER III.
KNOWLEDGE.
L
KNOWLEDGE is valuable for the pleasure it
imparts, for the permanent wealth it secures, and
for its ennobling influence on the mind. Its ex-
cellence is strongly illustrated by contrasting it with
ignorance.
“ The ignorant man,” says an Arabian writer,
“is dead, even while he walketh upon earth :-
numbered with the living, he existeth not.” The
strong prejudices, and restricted trains of thought,
which are common to an unfurnished mind, are
obvious to all who come in contact with it. Rude
manners, and contempt of just laws, distinguish
an uneducated community.—"Learning,” says Lord
Bacon, "doth make the mind gentle, generous, and
pliant to government, while ignorance leaveth it
churlish, thwarting, and mutinous; and the evidence
of history doth clear this assertion, inasmuch as
the most barbarous and unlearned times have been
the most subject to tumults, seditions, and changes."
KNOWLEDGE.
The treasures of knowledge have been pro-
nounced, by the wise of all ages, infinitely superior
to the “gold that perisheth.” They display their
superiority by their power of resisting accident,
and of adhering to their master when other pos-
sessions forsake him. The winds cannot sweep
them away, nor the flames dissolve, nor the floods
devour them.--" All that I have is about me," said
the poet Simonides, with perfect calmness, when
in the midst of tempest and shipwreck, his com-
panions were loading themselves with their most
costly effects, ere they plunged into the deep.-
Treasures over which the elements can have no
power, are surely worth the labour of those who
“dwell in houses of clay."
The error is sometimes committed of valuing
knowledge principally as the instrument of pecu-
niary gain. Those who hold this opinion, degrade
its excellence. They debase its specific gravity.
Such mercenary worshippers are like money-
changers in a sacred and magnificent temple. Its
presiding deity sanctions neither their traffic nor
their currency. Knowledge sought with such
motives will scarcely reveal itself in its depth and
grandeur. When the imperial purple of Rome
was sold for money, its glory had departed. What
ennobles the intellect, confers a distinction which
silver and gold can never purchase. The learned
Erasmus maintained this theory, when he assigned
as a reason for refusing a lucrative office, " I will
KNOWLEDGE.
t
not be hindered from prosecuting my studies by
all the gold in the world."
Considering knowledge, therefore, as an inalien-
able possession, let us trace its effect upon the
intellect that acquires it. We perceive that it
imparts strength and dignity; that while it enriches
the casket, it enlarges its capacity. It gives ability
to weigh, to compare, to decide; and a mind ac-
customed to such labours, expands and consolidates
its powers, as a frame inured to healthful exercise
becomes vigorous and elastic. In cases of doubt
or difficulty, collecting the concentrated experience
of past ages, it comes forth as a monitor and guide.
To use the words of a most competent judge,
“ Those who are illuminated by learning, do find it
whispering ever more in their ears, when other
counsellors stand mute and silent."
This argument peculiarly recommends it to the
attention of the young. A time must come when
the voice of the parent-guide will be silent in the
grave; when the pupil must pass from under the
shelter of tutelage to the toils and responsibilities
of life. Then it will often be necessary to decide
without advice, and to act without precedent.
Judgment laying aside her leading-strings, must
dare the steep and slippery ascent, biding the buffet
and the blast. Then the stores of a well-balanced,
well-furnished mind will be put in requisition, and
the mistakes of ignorance and vanity happily
avoided.
42
KNOWLEDGE.
Knowledge opens sources of delightful contem-
plation for domestic retirement. This renders it
a peculiar protection to the young. In their
fondness for promiscuous society, they are often in
danger of forming indiscreet associations, or rash
attachments. Knowledge makes home pleasant,
and self-communion no solitude. “When I am
alone, it talks with me, so that I have no need to
go abroad, and solicit amusements from others,"
said the philosopher Antisthenes. This lineament
of knowledge strongly recommends it to our own
sex, my dear young friends. For home is our pro-
vince--and it is our imperative duty to strive to
render it agreeable; and if we are never more
disposed to be amiable than when we are happy,
we shall probably best succeed in imparting felicity
when we most enjoy it ourselves.
Knowledge is an antidote to the narrowness of
mind, which grows out of minute details and petty
cares. It makes intelligent companions, by sup-
plying varied and improving subjects of conversa-
tion. It creates a class of independent enjoyments.
From the structure of society, as well as from phy-
sical weakness, our sex are compelled to rely on
the ministry of many agents. By some of these
we may be ill-served, and by others deceived: it
is therefore important to cultivate self-derived and
self-sustained satisfactions. For us, whose strongest
affections are in the keeping of others, it is well to
secure some intellectual solace, as the props on
KNOWLEDGE.
43
which those affections rest may chance to warp,
to pierce us, or to pass away. And next to the
support of that hope which has no rooting in earth,
are the consolations of a well-disciplined, contem-
plative mind!
Knowledge seems requisite to gain and to pre-
serve respect. Adulation is the food of the young
and beautiful, but maturity requires stronger
aliment. Nectar and ambrosia vanish with the
brief goddesship of beauty; and she who feels the
burdens of life, in their dense and uncompromising
reality, will gladly accept more substantial nourish-
ment. In order to be upheld by the respect of
him whose name she bears, and by that of the
household which she is appointed to govern, it is
necessary that she should not disgrace them by
ignorance. There was a period when humble in-
dustry, and virtuous example, were all that society
demanded of woman. That period is past. Edu-
cation, in conferring new privileges, erected a tri-
bunal, where each recipient is summoned to "give
account of her stewardship.” The very children
of the log-cottages throughout our land obey the
injunction of one of its departed politicians, and
“ make a crusade against ignorance.”
More than a century and a half since, when in-
tellectual culture was dealt out with a sparing
hand, the importance of knowledge to the respect-
ability and happiness of our sex, was clearly fore-
seen and stated by a female writer. Miss Ann
O
TT10
YO
KNOWLEDGE.
Baynard, a native of our mother-country, asserted
that it was “ sin to be contented with a little know-
ledge.” Laboriously exemplifying her own precept,
she acquired the ancient languages, astronomy,
mathematics, and philosophy. The motives which
she assigned for perfecting herself in Greek, was
the pleasure of reading Chrysostom in his native
purity. Her Latin compositions were applauded
for their elegance, by the critics of the day. She
made advances in other sciences, particularly in
metaphysics. Yet her life comprised only twenty-
five years. Though such attainments were in those
days far more conspicuous than they would be in
our own, there was about her no pride of science.
In her deportment, she was simple and meek--be-
nevolent to the poor, and of sincere piety. She
evinced the natural alliance between profound
knowledge and humility. On her death-bed, she
requested her clergyman to incite all the youth
of his charge to the pursuit of learning and wis-
dom, as the means of durable happiness. “Would
women," she writes, “ but spend half of that time
in study and thinking, which they do in visiting,
vanity and folly, it would induce composure of mind,
and lay a basis for wisdom and knowledge, by which
they might be far better enabled to serve God,
and to help their neighbours."
A similar testimony was given in still earlier
times, by Margaret, the mother of King Henry
VIIth, who, to the possession of learning, added its
.
KNOWLEDGE.
45
munificent patronage. She was the founder of
two colleges, connected with the University of
Cambridge-read and wrote with facility in the
Latin and French languages—and collected a
library, both valuable and extensive for those times.
But those who have it not in their power to
encourage learning by liberal donations, or to devote
any important portion of their lives to its acquisi-
tion, may still be so convinced of the value of a
good education, as to consider no labour too great
to obtain it. Though our favoured age furnishes
unprecedented opportunities for this result, yet
they will be found insufficient without vigorous
effort. All the aids of affluence, and the incite-
ments of parental love, will be powerless without
persevering study. If the physician pronounces
the voluntary co-operation of his patient essential
to the perfect effect of medicine, how much more
necessary is mental regimen to the great object o
correct education? It will be vain that books,
initiating into the various sciences, have pro-
ceeded from our most powerful pens--that minds
of the highest talent bow to the business of in.
struction-unless those who acquire knowledge are
willing to incur the labour of profound thought.
Elementary principles must be committed by
patient repetition, and trains of thought deepened
by habits of reflection. It is not in the unbroken
surface of sloth, or among the weeds of a roving
intellect, that knowledge deigns to deposit those
46
KNOWLEDGE.
L
seeds, whose well-ripened fruits are for the winter
of life. Severe application is the currency in the
realm of learning ; and memory is the mint
where this coinage receives its impression.
If we believe with Plato, that “all knowledge
is but remembrance,” we cannot take too much
pains to strengthen the retentive power. Without
it, there can be no imperishable mental wealth.
If any young person says with sincerity, “I have
no memory,” she pronounces herself a vassal in
the empire of mind. If she makes this avowal
carelessly, or without compunction, she deserves
to be for ever a “hewer of wood and a drawer of
water” among those whom knowledge ennobles.
But a weak memory, or what is colloquially called
“no memory at all,” will yet reveal a principle of
vitality, sufficient to justify and repay assiduous
nursing-care. For if memory has been philoso-
phically analyzed into the element of “fixed atten-
tion," it would seem to be within the reach of all
who have power over tireir own perceptions. Sa
it undoubtedly is—but not without perseverance.
When you read what it is desirable to retain,
dismiss every extraneous thought. If this cannot
be done in the company of others, become a silent
and separate student. Let your first requisitions
on memory be short, but thorough; repeated daily,
and as far as possible, at the same period of the
day. Every night, review deliberately and clearly
what has been gained. At the close of every week
.
..
4. .
KNOWLEDGE.
...
abridge in writing, the subjects that you deem
most valuable. At the close of every month, re-
capitulate, select and arrange from this record the
most important parts, and write them neatly in a
book kept for that purpose—but not in the lan-
guage of the author; and, if possible, without re-
ference to him at all. Let this be a repository of
condensed knowledge—the pure gold of thought.
Select from it fitting subjects for conversation, and
view knowledge in all its aspects, ere you commit
it irrevocably to the casket of the soul.
Such a process cannot be continued faithfully
for a year, without perceptible benefit to memory.
Command its services freely, as a monarch does
those of a loyal subject. Never allow yourself to
say, without self-reproach, “I have forgotten."
If memory is under your control, why should you
forget ? If it is not, whose is the fault? Even a
child is in danger, who says, " I forgot," and feels
no shame.
In your earliest discipline of memory, be care-
ful not to afford it too many aids. Its journey up
the cliff of knowledge may be painful, and its re-
quisitions among the duties of life will be surely
severe. Make it athletic by exercise, like the son
of a peasant. Bring home the substance of ser-
mons, or lectures on the sciences, without the aid
of pencil and paper If you wish to preserve it
for others, abridge it after you return home, but
never take notes while you listen. It too much
48
KNOWLEDGE.
excuses memory from its trust. In perusing books,
never use marks to denote the stages of your pro-
gress. If the contents are not sufficiently striking
to furnish a clew for recalling the mind, charge
memory with the number of the chapter, or the
page where you discontinued to read. If neither
the spirit, style, or numerical adjuncts of the book,
can be so clearly restored as to designate the point
at which you left it, what benefit do you propose
from proceeding in its perusal? It is much reading
without proper attention-it is miscellaneous aliment
without digestion, that paralyze memory, and in-
duce morbid habits of mind. Hold no rule in
slight esteem that will enable you to invigorate the
retentive power. Persevere in this regimen, until
you are familiar with the intense delight of know-
ledge won by toil. Then you may be assured that the
most formidable stage in the discipline of memory
is surmounted; for as it regards the action of the
mind, knowledge and remembrance are indivisible.
Would that I could convince all my fair young
readers of the value of perseverance. Its im-
portance to our own sex has seldom been more
strikingly exemplified than in the instance of Miss
Elizabeth Carter. She early formed a resolution
of acquiring a learned education. In the efforts
which overcome existing obstacles, she was scarcely
outdone by Demosthenes. Nature opposed her
design. Her infancy and early youth gave no
indication of the eminence that she afterward
SI
KNOWLEDGE.
1
obtained. Her perceptions were unusually slow.
The rudiments of science were acquired with
incredible labour. She had a continual tendency
to fall asleep, whenever she attempted mental ap-
plication. The obtuseness of comprehension, with
which she encountered the impediments that oppose
entrance into the dead languages, exhausted the
patience of even her excellent father. He besought
her to give up all ambition of becoming a scholar.
But nothing could shake her perseverance : and
its victory was complete. What she once gained
she never lost. The severe labour to which she
submitted, earned this recompense, which quickness
of perception seldom attains.
She early acquired the Hebrew, Greek, and
Latin languages. The first, she continued to read
daily, even in extreme old age. Of the second,
her knowledge was critically correct, as her trans-
lation of Epictetus proves. Dr. Johnson, in speak-
ing of a celebrated scholar, said he understood
Greek better than any one whom he had ever
known, except Elizabeth Carter. The French
language she understood thoroughly, and spoke
with fluency. Italian, Spanish, and German, she
taught herself without assistance; from the last,
she received very high enjoyment. Portuguese and
Arabic she also added. For her own use she con-
structed an Arabic dictionary, containing various
explanations and combinations of words, which
she perceived from her own reading to have been
50
KNOWLEDGE.
misconceived or ill-translated. To her uncommon
proficiency in classic and historic lore, she united
a knowledge of astronomy and ancient geography,
poetry and theology. The Holy Scriptures were
her daily and delightful study.
Though her attainments were viewed with wonder,
and gained her the friendship of some of the best
and most illustrious in her native realm, she sought
not to possess learning for the purposes of display.
Her long life of meekness and piety spoke a far
different language.
No stronger example can be adduced of the force
and value of perseverance. Those of our own sex
whose taste would not lead them to the acquisition
of difficult languages, or to a life of science and we
contemplation, will find this excellent virtue equally
prevalent in any other modification of duty or
channel of pursuit.
Want of fixedness of purpose, is but too gene-
rally a fault of the young. Indeed, to so many
employments are the minds of young ladies di-
rected, that it is exceedingly difficult to preserve
unity of design. But of one thing they should
never lose sight - the danger of neglecting to
improve, to the utmost, the priceless privileges of
their season of life. Then the mind comes forth
in freshness and beauty. Cares have not pre-
occupied it, nor contradictory trains of thought
stamped upon it a desultory character. “It turneth
as wax to the seal.” How often, ere we under-
t
KNOWLEDGE.
51
stand the worth of this pliancy, does rigidity steal
over the fibres of thought, and the buddings of
character take a determinate form, and we are
young no more.
It was Cato the censor, wlio having imperfectly
valued this precious season, awoke to a late re-
pentance, and at the age of sixty desired again to
become a scholar and to study Greek. The habit
sometimes formed by young persons, of excusing
their deficiencies on the plea of want of time, is
detrimental to improvement. Time ought to be
found for every important requisition. The same
management that secures it for amusement, will
secure it for study. When any effort involving
labour is proposed, few will allege want of inclina-
tion, but many will shelter themselves under the
broad banner of want of time. “I had no time,”
may be considered as the knell of excellence. The
great and the good, find time for all that appertains
to greatness or goodness. “I will hear thee at a
more convenient season," said the Roman to the
warning apostle, when at his pungent arguments
conscience trembled. The inspired volume does
not inform us, whether that convenient season ever
came. What the “convenient season" was to the
lost soul, is the “no time” to the negligent student.
It is a barrier thrown up, to keep others from the
truth, and herself from wisdom. It is the dialect
which indolence borrows, when she is ashamed of
her own.
E 2
52
KNOWLEDGE.
As our highest privileges are not exempt from
abuse, the very redundancy of benefits which the
present age lavishes upon our sex, involves danger.
The change has been sudden. The flood of light
burst upon the eye, ere it had been gradually led
from surrounding darkness. Our grandmothers
had only the simple training which suffices for
“ household-good.” Our grand-daughters may have
an opportunity of becoming professors. When
we have learned to meet deliberately this influx of
intellectual prosperity, and each fluctuating ele-
ment has subsided to its true level, it will be found
that sufficient time is not allowed to complete the
process. Why should not the period be equal to
that allotted to the other sex?' Is it not important
that a broad foundation be laid by those from whom
so much is expected, and who have the character
of sowing the seeds of most of the good and evil
which exist in the world? To a young lady whose
regular period of study terminates with the first
fifteen or sixteen years of life, there “remaineth
still very much land to be possessed." Yet how is
she to become its possessor, when the novelties of
fashionable amusement, and the cares of woman's
lot, stand in array against her more formidably than
the “ Amorites, and the Hivites, and the Periz-
zites," whom the children of Israel attacked, but
were never able wholly to subdue.
The system pursued in our mother-country is
more rational. The space allotted to education is
KNOWLEDGE.
53
0
broader, and not interrupted by promiscuous visit-
ing, or exciting amusement. It is both reckless and
cruel, for those who guide the young, to expose
them to the fascinations of gay society during the
years allotted to scholastic study. A period origi-
nally too brief for the great work which is to be
achieved, is thus rendered still more insufficient.
The imagination is occupied by extraneous imagery,
and the mind exposed to glittering and profitless
reveries, when it should be girded up for faithful
and patient labour.
The social principle, which throughout life de-
serves and rewards culture, cannot so safely expand
during the season of school-education, as in the
company of those engaged in similar pursuits, or
of those still older and wiser friends, who know
how to blend instruction with delight. Unless that
narrow span which is set apart by the community
as sacred to education, be zealously guarded for the
young by those who love them, how can they escape
an irretrievable loss? They may indeed acquire
the reputation of knowledge without possessing it;
but are they willing to shelter themselves under
false devices, to incur the perpetual labour of wear-
ing a mask, and the hazard of detection ? Igno-
rance is always obvious to the eye of a true scholar,
however it may hide itself in tortuous laby-
rinths. The invention of eking out the lion's skin
with that of the fox, though an ancient and classical
54
KNOWLEDGE.
artifice, is not wise. Least of all, is it fitting in
woman, whose sweetest graces are simplicity and
purity. Let the young be assured, that for what-
ever toil or privation they sustain, knowledge hath
a surpassing payment of present pleasure and of
future gain. When like her who, some three cen-
turies since, preferred at the age of sixteen, solitude
and Plato to the haunts of fashionable gaiety,
they taste the true sweetness of knowledge, they
will pronounce the period appropriated to its
attainment as the most privileged part of their
existence.
The sentiment that education is complete, when
school-days are past, is too plainly erroneous to
require argument. Their office has been well per-
formed, if they have so trained the mind, as to en-
able it to continue its own education-if they have
given it the wisdom to consider itself a learner,
throughout the whole of this earthly probation.
Still viewing itself but as a searcher after know-
ledge and truth, it should bear about with it, and
daily deepen the motto of “not having yet attained
-neither being already perfect.” It was one of
the greatest philosophers who asserted, that the
mind ought ever to consider itself “ susceptible
both of growth and reformation; and that the truly
learned man will always intermix the correction
and amendment of his intellect, with the use and
employment thereof." It is most surely appropriate
11
KNOWLEDGE.
55
for our sex to disclaim all fellowship with pride
and prejudice, and humbly to seek after wisdom
all the days of their lives.
To you, who, just emancipated from the restraints
of " tutors and governors,” stand joyously in your
youth and beauty upon that “isthmus of a middle
state," which divides the sports of childhood from
the responsibilities of womanly duty, suffer me to
say, from the love I bear you, that your education
is but just begun. Every thing around you will
conspire to carry on the work. Associates—friends
-those to whom you entrust your affections, are
instruments to test the basis of your principles,
and complete the development of your character.
The books you read, the companions with whom
you converse, the dispositions that you cherish,
may prove as soft showers to the springing grass,
or as mildews to the buds of virtue.
Those whom you teach, will teach you ; those
who serve you, will influence you in their turn.
The reaction is perpetual.
The opinions and habits of those with whom you
are most conversant, will insensibly, but indelibly,
stamp some impression upon your own; they will
enter into the sanctuary of the soul, and hang up
in its secret shrine their own images.
Be ever docile, my dear friends, to the hallowed
teachings of knowledge and virtue, and see that
the influences which proceed from yourselves are
of the same sacred class; for circumstances, rela-
KNOWLEDGE.
tives, the silent lapse of time, and the sleepless
discipline of your heavenly Father, will continue
your education, until death takes light from the eye,
and motion from the hand, and vitality from the
heart; and, releasing the organs from their obe-
dience to the ruling mind, lays the head where there
is neither knowledge, nor device, nor wisdom.
LETTER IV.
INDUSTRY.
The faithful use of our entrusted powers, is but
a proper acknowledgment for the privilege of pos-
sessing them. Capacities for improvement involve
accountability, and demand diligence. As duty is
connected with enjoyment, industry is the visible
friend of happiness and virtue. It adapts the gifts
of the Creator to the ends which he designed.
We are excited to it by the examples and analo-
gies of nature. The little rill hastens onward to the
broader stream, cheering the flowers on its mar-
gin, and singing to the pebbles in their bed; the
river rushes to the sea, dispensing on a broader
scale fertility and beauty; ocean, receiving his
thousand tribute-streams, and swelling his ceaseless
thunder-hymn, bears to their desired haven those
white-winged messengers which promote the com-
fort and wealth of man, and act as envoys between
remotest climes. In the secret bosom of the earth,
the little heart of the committed seed quickens,
circulation commences, the slender radicles expand,
58
INDUSTRY.
the new-born plant lifts a timid eye to the sunbeam,
the blossoms diffuse odour, the grain whitens for
the reaper, the tree perfects its fruit. Nature is
never idle.
Lessons of industry come also from insect-
teachers--from the winged chemist in the bell of
the hyacinth, and the political economist bearing
the kernel of corn to its subterranean magazine.
The blind pinnæ spins in the cean, and the silk-
worm in its leaf-carpeted chamber; and the spider,
“ taking hold with its hands, is in kings' palaces.".
The bird gathers food for itself, and for its helpless
claimants, with songs of love; or, spreading a
migratory wing, hangs its slight architecture on
the palm-branch of Africa, the wind-swept and
scanty foliage of the Orcades, or the slender, sky-
piercing minaret of the Moslem. The domestic
animals fill their different spheres according to
their gradations of intelligence. Man, whose en-
dowments are so noble, ought not surely to be
surpassed in faithfulness by the inferior creation.
It is obvious disrespect to our bountiful Bene-
factor, to divide his gifts from their appointed des-
tination. When we contemplate the wonderful
mechanism of the hand, and the far more astonish-
ing skill of the mind that guides it—when we
reflect how much labour is required to make our-
selves what we wish to be, and to do for others
what we ought-when we look beyond this life to
the next, and feel that, not only on what we do
INDUSTRY.
59
V
11
Y
w
here, but on what we omit to do, depend conse-
quences which eternity alone can measure --we
are convinced of the truth of the precept, that
indolence is not made for man.
Admitting, therefore, the propriety and necessity
of industry, let us exhibit the principle in its prac-
tical forms. It should be mingled in its most
decided aspects with the period of school education.
That season, when those elements of knowledge
are acquired, which, in some form or other, continue
to blend with the mass of character and duty during
the whole of life, is too precious to be trifled away.
She who is careless in forming habits of applica-
tion, or willing to curtail hours of study, fearfully
defrauds herself. “If you have great talents,"
said Sir Joshua Reynolds, " industry will improve
them; if you have moderate abilities, industry will
supply their deficiency. Nothing is denied to well-
directed labour-nothing is to be obtained with-
out it."
A young lady, during the course of her instruc-
tion in the sciences, came to the conclusion, that
she had no memory for historical dates, or facts
involving numerical statements. In her recitations,
she resorted to the subterfuge of referring to slips
of paper, which she adroitly concealed. When it
became difficult to escape detection, she wrote such
chronological eras as occurred in her lessons, in
the palm of her hand. Half the labour which this
deception required, would have enabled her to com-
C
60
INDUSTRY.
mit them to memory, thoroughly and irrevocably.
The consequence was, that after the completion of
an extensive course of study, she was utterly desti-
tute of that chronology which is to history what
the key-stone is to the arch. The mass which she
had accumulated, having neither arrangement or
relative dependance, was broken into fragments,
and crumbled away. Indolence had deprived it of
those strong tendrils by which it would have ad-
hered to the mind. Of the history of the world,
from its creation to her own times, to which she
had devoted years of study, she might soon have
been able to say with Shakspeare,
11
t
“I remember a dream, but nothing distinctly,
A quarrel, but nothing wherefore."
And the loss was through her own folly. Let
those who now sustain the interesting character of
pupil, see that they incur no similar misfortune.
Were it possible, fully to impress the value of that
period of existence, ere it passes, never to return,
how many who are now impatient of its restraints,
would desire to prolong its duration! Could they
realize that when life has drawn them within its
sphere of labour--though books are always to be
found, there may be no leisure to read them, or
they may be perused without leaving a single
abiding impression on a mind harassed by per-
plexity and care--they would be anxious that
every day of their school-education, should deposit
INDUSTRY.
61
S
T
in the storehouse of intellect, some treasure that
might be safe from the water-floods of time.
Habits of diligence are recommended by the
happiness they impart. Indolence is a foe to en-
joyment. “There is nothing among all the cares
and burdens of a king,” said Lewis XIVth, to the
prince his son, “so laborious as idleness." It is
a dereliction of duty. It is disobedience to the
command of our Creator. While in bondage to it,
we cannot enjoy self-approbation. Rust gathers
over the mind, and corrodes its powers. Melan-
choly weighs down the spirits, and the conscious-
ness of having lived in vain, embitters reflection.
Whatever establishes a habit of regular industry
in early life, is a blessing. Even those reverses
of fortune, which are accounted calamities, some-
times call into action energies with which the
possessor was previously unacquainted; and lead
to higher degrees of respectability and happiness,
than affluence, in its lassitude or luxury, could
ever have attained.
Early rising, seems generally to have been asso-
ciated with the industry of those who have attained
eminence. “I am sorry," said Demosthenes,
“when I hear any workman at his hammer before
me." The elder Pliny assigned as one of the
reasons why he accomplished so much, that he
was an early riser. He was accustomed to go
before daybreak to receive the orders of the em-
peror Vespasian, who himself did not waste the
1
S
62
INDUSTRY.
precious morning hours in slumber. Buffon, the
celebrated naturalist, rose throughout the year
with the sun. In order to do this, he had to
conquer an almost inveterate fondness for morn-
ing sleep. He acknowledged himself indebted for
this victory to his servant, who resolutely awoke
him until a better habit was formed, and said that
to his perseverance, the world owed at least ten or
twelve volumes of his Natural History. The Rev.
Mr. John Wesley was a most conspicuous instance
of unvarying industry, and economy of time. On
his eighty-fifth birthday, he records in his journal,
as among the causes of his continued health and
unimpaired vigour, that he had “ constantly, for
sixty years, risen at four in the morning; and
preached a regular lecture at five in the morning,
for above half a century.".
Those of our sex who have been distinguished
by energy in the domestic department, are usually
exemplary for their improvement of the early
hours of the day. A knowledge of those pursuits
which promote the comfort and order of a house-*]
hold, should be interwoven with classical education.
It may be so mingled as to relieve, rather than
obstruct intellectual labours.
I have never heard any young lady deny in
words the excellence of industry, and have known
many who put forth vigorous efforts for the im-
provement of their most precious season of life.
But I have seen no class of people, among whom
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63
a more efficient system of industry and economy
of time was established, than the agricultural
population of New England. Their possessions
are not sufficiently large to allow waste of any
description. Hence, every article seems to be
carefully estimated, and applied to its best use.
Their mode of life is as favourable to cheerfulness
and health, as it is eminent in industry.
The farmer, rising with the dawn, attends to
those employments which are necessary for the
comfort of the family, and proceeds early with his
sons or assistants to their department of daily
labour. The birds enliven them with their song,
and the lambs gambol, while the patient ox marks
the deep furrow, or the grain is committed to the
* earth, or the tall grass humbled beneath the
pe scythe, or the stately corn freed from the intrusion
of weeds. Fitting tasks are proportioned to the
youngest ones, that no hand may be idle.
In the interior of the house, an equal diligence
prevails. The elder daughters take willing part
with the mother in every domestic toil. No servant
is there to create suspicious feelings, or a divided
interest. No key grates in the lock, for all are as
brethren. The children, who are too young to be
useful, proceed to school, kindly leading the little
one, who can scarcely walk. Perhaps the aged
grandmother, a welcome and honoured inmate,
amuses the ruddy infant, that she may release a
stronger hand for toil.
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64
INDUSTRY.
The sound of the wheel, and the vigorous
strokes of the loom are heard. The fleece of the
sheep is wrought up, amid the cheerful song of
sisters. Remembering that the fabrics which they
produce will guard those whom they love from
the blast of winter, the bloom deepens on their
cheek with the pleasing consciousness of useful
industry.
In the simple and abundant supply of a table
from their own resources, which shall refresh those
who return weary from the field, all are interested.
The boy, who brings his mother the fresh vege-
tables, selects a salad, which his own hand had
cultivated, perchance, with some portion of the
pride of Dioclesian, pointing to the cabbages which
he had reared. The daughter, who gathers trea.
sures from the nests of the poultry that she feeds,
delights to tell their history, and to number her
young ducks as they swim forth boldly on the
pool. The bees, whose hives range near the door,
add a desert to their repast, and the cows feeding
quietly in rich pastures, yield pure nutriment for
the little ones. For their bread they have “sown,
and reaped, and gathered into barns;" the flesh is
from their own flocks--the fruit and nuts from
their own trees. The children know where the
first berries ripen, and when the chestnut will open
its thorny sheath in the forest. The happy farmer
at his independent table, need not envy the luxury
of kings.
INDUSTRY.
65
The active matron strives to lessen the expenses
of her husband, and to increase his gains. She
sends to market the wealth of her dairy, and the
surplus produce of her loom. She instructs her
daughters by their diligence to have a purse of
their own, from which to furnish the more delicate
parts of their wardrobe, and to relieve the poor.
In the long evenings of winter, she plies the needle,
or knits stockings with them, or maintains the
quiet music of the flax-wheel, from whence linen
is prepared for the family. She incites them never
to eat the bread of idleness, and as they have been
trained, so will they train others again; for the
seeds of industry are perennial.
The father and brothers having recess from the
toils of busier seasons, read aloud such books as
are procured from the public library, and knowledge
thus entering in with industry and domestic order,
forms a hallowed alliance. The most sheltered
corner by the ample fireside is resérved for the
hoary grandparents, who in plenty and pious con-
tent, pass the eve of a well-spent life. "
The sacred hymn and prayer rising duly from
such households, is acceptable to Heaven. To
their humble scenery, some of our wisest and
most illustrious men, rulers of the people, sages
and interpreters of the law of God, look back
tenderly, as their birthplace. They love to ac-
knowledge that in the industry and discipline of early
years, was laid the foundation of their greatness.
117
DI
YE
66
INDUSTRY.
Let the children of farmers feel that their dem
scent is from the nobility of our land. In the
homes where they were nurtured, are the strong-
holds of the virtue and independence of their
country. If our teeming manufactories should
send forth an enervated or uninstructed race, and
our cities foster the growth of pomp, or the ele
ments of discord, we hope that from those peaceful
farm-houses will go forth a redeeming spirit, to
guard and renovate the country of their love. .
I trust that no young lady, however elevated her
station, will conceive that a knowledge of what
appertains to the superintendence of a family, can
derogate from her dignity.
If the greater advantages which are accorded
her, create contempt for the duties of her own
womanly sphere, it is a serious and unhappy result.
If that sex, through whose liberality greater pri-
vileges have been extended to ours, are to be
rendered less comfortable in their homes, at their
tables, or by their firesides, it is truly a most
ungrateful return.
Many causes conspire to attach great import-
ance to the stand which is to be taken by the
young ladies of the present generation. Criticism
is awake to discover what effect their more ex-
tended education will have on the welfare of
domestic life. Before them, were a race of accom-
plished housekeepers, perfect in their ranks, whose
families were as regular as clockwork, and whose
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67
children early learned the lesson to obey. Not to
disgrace such an ancestry will require no slight
energy, or brief apprenticeship.
But they on whom the present race of young
men must depend for whatever degree of comfort
their future homes may yield, have had, in the
forming period of life, their attention turned to
sciences, which, to the ears of their excellent grand-
mothers, would have been as strange languages.
It is sometimes exemplified, that the best house-
keepers are not the best teachers of housekeeping.
They find it easier to pursue their own established
system, than to have patience with the errors of a
novice. Hence, their daughters are released from
participation in domestic care during that pliant
period when it might easily have been made con-
genial-perhaps, until they have imbibed a distaste
for it.
Another circumstance, which renders the pre-
sent crisis still more hazardous to those on whom
are soon to devolve the burdens of domestic re-
sponsibility, is the difficulty of obtaining trusty
servants. That this evil increases, is evident to
all whose memories comprise the routine of the
last thirty, or even ten years; yet the exertions
necessary to support the structure of refined so-
ciety have not diminished. Perhaps proof might
be adduced, that they are both heightened and
varied by the progress of luxury. If, therefore, the
amount of labour in families is increased, and the
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INDUSTRY.
number of efficient agents diminished, and the
knowledge of the superintendent impaired, or
taken away, from what quarter can the deficiency
be supplied ? How is the head of the household to
be made comfortable, when he returns from those
toils by which that household is maintained ?
These are serious questions, not only in their
individual, but political consequences. For the
strength of a nation, especially of a republican
nation, is in the intelligent and well-ordered homes
of the people; and in proportion as the discipline
of families is relaxed, will the happy organization
of communities be affected, and national character
become vagrant, turbulent, or ripe for revolution.
The influx of foreign population, renders it
doubly important that some features of our native
character and customs should be preserved for our
descendants. And where can these be guarded
or transmitted, so well as in the sanctity of a well-
ordered home? The habit of breaking up family
establishments, and resorting to boarding-houses,
is becoming prevalent in our larger cities. Should
it be still more general among those whom wealth
and fashion authorize to give tone to society, the
consequences must be baneful. The character of
the next generation must be affected by it. A
less concentrated influence will be brought to bear
upon the uninformed mind. Children, losing the
example of that class of parental virtues which the
organization of a family requires, can no longer
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69
see their mother diffusing a generous hospitality,
or drawing under her shelter the homeless and the
orphan. The father no longer, by the wise order-
ing of his domestics, and by à judicious distribution
of checks and encouragements to all, will teach
his sons how to legislate for the good of others.
The efficiency of the mother must be less called
into exercise; and how can she instruct her
daughters in domestic industry, which she has
herself no opportunity to practise? The dignity
of the man also suffers by this arrangement, and
much of the comfort which he proposes from do-
mestic life must be resigned. Should this dis-
ruption of families become widely prevalent, the
desultory character of a homeless people would
fasten upon us, and the charities that cluster around
the hearth-stone and the domestic altar, which
bless the guest and cheer the babe in its cradle,
must wither like uprooted flowers.
I trust, my dear young friends, that you will
give these subjects an attentive consideration; and
that you will be willing to blend with the pursuits
of an accomplished education, a practical knowledge
of that science, without which woman must be
inert in her own sphere, and faithless to some of
her most sacred obligations. Indebted as you are
for innumerable privileges to the free government
under which you live, you will not surely disre-
gard such forms of patriotism as fall within your
province, Acquaint yourselves, therefore, with
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all the details of a well-ordered family, and make
this department of knowledge both a duty and a
pleasure. For, beset as our country may be with
external dangers, or disordered by internal com-
motions-if from every dwelling there flows forth
a healthful and healing influence, what disease can
be fatal?
The young ladies of the present generation seem
to pass in review before me, with all their privi-
leges, and in all their grace and beauty. Methinks
their hands are upon the ark of their country. Let
them not feel that they have only to seek embel-
lishment, to sip from the honey-cups of life, or to
glitter like the meteor of a summer's eve. For as
sựrely as the safety and prosperity of a nation
depend on the virtue of its people, they who reign
in the retreats where man turns for his comfort,
who have power over the machinery which stamps
on the infant mind its character of good or evil,
are responsible, to a fearful extent, for that safety
and prosperity.
LETTER V.
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
Since industry is the aliment of contentment
and happiness, our sex are privileged in the variety
of employment that solicits their attention. These
are so diversified in their combinations of amuse-
ment with utility, that no room need be left for
the melancholy of a vacant and listless mind.
Needle-work, in all its forms of use, elegance,
and ornament, has ever been the appropriate occu-
pation of woman. From the shades of Eden, when
its humble process was but to unite the fig-leaf, to
the days when the mother of Sisera looked from
her window, in expectation of a “prey of divers
colours of needle-work on both sides, meet for the
necks of those that take the spoil," down to mo-
dern times, when Nature's pencil is rivalled by the
most exquisite tissues of embroidery, it has been
both a duty and a resource. While the more
delicate efforts of the needle rank high among
accomplishments, its necessary departments are not
beneath the notice of the most refined young lady.
.
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
To keep her own wardrobe perfectly in order, to
pay just regard to economy, and to add to the
comfort of the poor, a knowledge of those inven-
tions is requisite, by which the various articles
of apparel are repaired, modified, and renovated.
True satisfaction, and cheerfulness of spirits are
connected with such quiet and congenial pursuits.
Listen, on this subject, to one of the sweetest
poets :--
“ It rains-What lady loves a rainy day?
She loves a rainy day, who sweeps the hearth,
And threads the busy needle, or applies
The scissors to the torn or thread-bare sleeve;
Who blesses God that she has friends and home;
Who, in the pelting of the storm, will think
Of some poor neighbour that she can befriend;
Who trims the lamp at night, and reads aloud
To a young brother, tales he loves to hear :
Such are not sad even on a rainy day."
The queen of Louis XIth, of France, was a pattern
of industry to her sex. Surrounding herself with
the daughters of the nobility, whom she called her
daughters, she was both their teacher and compa-
nion in tasteful works of embroidery and tapestry.
The churches were adorned with these proofs of
their diligence and ingenuity. She considered
industry a remedy for a disordered imagination,
and a shield against the tempations of fashionable
life. Hence prudence and modesty marked the
manners of that court, where their opposites had
once prevailed; and the blooming and elegant train
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
by whom she was attended " bore in their hearts
the honour and virtue which she planted there."
Knitting is a quiet employment, favourable to
reflection, and though somewhat obsolete, not un-
allied to economy. It is well adapted to save those
fragments of time, which might else be lost. It
may also be made readily to bear upon the comfort
of the poor. The timely gift of a pair of substantial
stockings, has mitigated the sufferings, and protected
the health of many an ill-clad and shivering child.
Mrs. Hannah More, whose example imparts dig-
nity, and even sacredness, to common things, was
partial throughout her long life to this simple em-
ployment. One of her most interesting and playful
letters accompanied a sample of this kind of indus-
try, as a present to the child of a friend; and
stockings of her knitting entered into her charities,
and were even sold to aid missionary efforts in
foreign climes.
Since the domestic sphere is entrusted to our sex,
and the proper arrangement and government of a
household are so closely connected with all rational
happiness, nothing that affects the comfort of home
should be deemed of little consequence. The science
of housekeeping affords exercise for all the judg-
ment and energy, ready recollection, and patient
self-possession, which are the characteristics of a
superior mind. Its elements should be acquired in
early life; at least, its correspondent tastes and
habits should never be overlooked in female edu.
.
A
.
.
B
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10
cation. The generous pleasure of relieving a mother
or friend from the pressure of care, ought to induce
young ladies to acquaint themselves with employ-
ments which will enable them, when the more
complex duties of life devolve upon them, to enjoy
and impart the delights of a well-ordered home.
To know how to prepare for, and preside at a table
which shall unite neatness with comfort and ele-
gance; where prodigality is never admitted, nor
health carelessly impaired; is both an accomplish-
ment and a virtue.
That skill in domestic employments is not in-
compatible with mental cultivation, there are many
examples. To adduce only one, from our own
country: Mrs. Child, one of the most indefatigable
labourers in the varied field of literature, is not only
the author of the “Frugal Housewife," but able
practically to illustrate it, with singular energy
and versatility. She says, " a knowledge of do-
mestic duties is beyond all price to a woman.
Every one of our sex ought to know how to sew,
and knit, and mend, and cook, and superintend a
household. In every situation of life, high or low,
this sort of knowledge is of great advantage.
There is no necessity that the gaining of such in-
formation should interfere with intellectual acquire
ment, or even with elegant accomplishment. A
well-regulated mind can find time to attend to all.
When a girl is nine or ten years old, she should
be accustomed to take some regular share in houses
re
.
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DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
75
hold duties, and to feel responsible for the manner
in which her part is performed-such as her own
mending, washing the cups, and putting them in
place, cleaning silver, or dusting and arranging the
parlour. This should not be done occasionally, and
neglected whenever she finds it convenient-she
should consider it her department. When older
than twelve, girls should begin to take turns in
superintending the household, keeping account of
weekly expenses, making puddings, pies, cake, &c.
To learn effectually, they should actually do these
things themselves, not stand by and see others do
them.”
Miss Elizabeth Carter, to whom allusion has
been already made, as an adept in nine languages,
and many sciences, did not neglect those employ-
ments which fall within the immediate province of
her sex. In needlework she early accomplished
herself, and till near the close of her long life of
eighty-nine years continued its practice. During
her youth, while passing a winter in London, a
number of shirts which were needed for her brother
were sent to her, which she completed with dili-
gence and pleasure, during the excitements and
interruptions of a visit in that great metropolis.
When, after the death of her mother, and removal
of the children by marriage, her father was left
alone, she felt it her duty, notwithstanding the
devotion of her life to study, to return and super-
intend his domestic establishment. With the avails
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DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
of her publications, she purchased a house, where
she conveyed her only surviving parent, and for the
last fourteen years of his life made his daily comfort
one of the ruling objects of her existence.
When a literary friend expressed anxiety lest
these domestic cares should interfere with her in-
tellectual pursuits, she replied: “I am much obliged
to you for the kind partiality which induces you to
regret my giving up so much time to domestic
economy. As to any thing of this kind hurting the
dignity of my head, I have no idea of it, even were
the head of more consequence than I feel it to be.
The true post of honour consists in the discharge
of those duties, whatever they happen to be, which
arise from that situation in which Providence has
placed us, and which we may be assured is the
very situation best calculated for our happiness and
virtue."
If this could be said by the translator of Epic-
tetus, whose deep and varied knowledge enabled
her to fit a young nephew for the university, with
how little reason can the lighter studies of modern
female education be brought as an excuse for either
n'eglect or dislike of domestic employments.
It should be remembered, that while this distin-
guished woman acquainted herself with every duty
and detail which could make the house which she
superintended, agreeable to her father and others,
she laid aside none of her literary or scientific
pursuits. The same perseverance by which she
UTA
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
STT
acquired many languages, she kept in action to
retain them. Her daily system was to read before
breakfast two chapters in the Bible, a sermon, and
some Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. After breakfast,
she read a portion in each of the nine languages
with which she was acquainted, so as not to allow
herself to lose what she had once gained, while, in
her department of housekeeping, nothing was neg-
lected.
It has been sometimes urged as an objection
against the modern system of female education,
that the wide range of science which it comprises,
turns the attention of the young from household
duty, and renders them impatient of its details and
labours. This argument seems to address itself to
mothers. It might be in their power to refute it,
and to associate in the minds of their daughters,
with a love of study, a knowledge of the unpre-
tending pursuits of their own future province.
Maternal affection would naturally prompt the wish
to save them from the mistakes and perplexities to
which ignorance must in future expose them.
Though perhaps little native affinity exists between
intellectual pursuits and household cares, they may
doubtless be so united as to relieve each other;
and she will give strong proof of the best education,
and the best regulated mind, who neglects the
fewest duties, and despises none.
Order and punctuality, are indispensable to those
who would well govern a family. The virtues
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have been styled gregarious. Punctuality, in par-
ticular, propagates itself. If the mistress of a
house is punctual, the inmates under her roof
become so. It is the very soul of system. The
spirit of order, also diffuses itself from the head
to the members of a household. One argument for
having every surrounding object neatly arranged,
is that the operations of the mind are thus in-
fluenced. The late President Dwight used to
admonish it upon his students, never to seat them-
selves for intellectual labour, especially for com-
position, until their rooms were in perfect order.
Sterne found himself impeded in his literary pro-
gress unless every surrounding article was in its
place, and himself dressed with neatness. The
musical genius of Haydn, failed to inspire him
unless his person was carefully arrayed. Lord
Bacon, whose mighty mind might be supposed to
rise superior to trifling circumstances, acknow-
ledged that he composed with far greater ease
when flowers were tastefully arranged around him.
If our sex are not often liable to be interrupted
in any great literary enterprise, by the disorder
of materials under their control, they may be
painfully conscious of embarrassed feelings when
surprised by unexpected company in a careless
costume, or a parlour disarranged.
It will be found that in the science of house-
keeping no slight degree of practical knowledge is
required to direct others with propriety and profit.
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DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
79
In a state of society where equality prevails,
and where the desire of living without labour is
but too common, servants, thoroughly trained in
their several departments, are not always to be
found. To instruct those who are ignorant, to
know when they have done well, and when they
have done enough,-when they have reason to be
weary, or a right to complain,-it is necessary to
have had some personal experience of what is re-
quired of them. Complaints of the errors of
domestics are very common, and with none more
so, than with those who are least qualified to direct
them. Perhaps too much is expected of them ;
perhaps we neglect to make due allowance for their
causes of irritation, or to sympathize in the hard-
ships of their lot. Possibly we may sometimes
forget that the distinctions in society are no cer-
tain test of intrinsic merit, and that we wall have
one Master, even Christ."
Yet, admitting that the ranks and stations are
not very clearly defined in a republic, and that the
lower classes sometimes press upon the higher,
yet all should be willing to pay some tax for the
privileges of a government which admits such a
high degree and wide expansion of happiness. If
our domestics revolt at the performance of what
the spirit of feudal times, or aristocratic sway,
might exact, a remedy still remains-to moderate
our wants, and study simplicity in our style of
living. Much time will be rescued for valuable
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pursuits, when the love of show and vanity, with
their countless expenses and competitions, are
stricken from our household lists. She who is
content to live more plainly than her neighbours,
and dress more simply than her associates, when
reason or the wishes of her friends require it, has
gained no slight ascent in true philosophy.
Do you think me an advocate of ungraceful
toils, or a setter forth of strange and obsolete
opinions ? Still bear with me in your courtesy, for
the few remarks that remain. I would not decry
the embellishments of life-I render them due
honour; but I should grieve to see you deficient
in its plain and practical duties. Fashion will take
care of the former, so I have argued for the latter.
Fortunate shall I esteem myself, if the attention
of but one mind shall thus be turned to those occu-
pations which render home delightful.
I have ever thought it desirable, that young
ladies should make themselves the mistresses of
some attainment, either in art or science, by which
they might secure a subsistence, should they be
reduced to poverty. Sudden and entire reverses
are not uncommon in the history of affluence. To
sustain them without the means of lessening the
evils of dependence, when health and intellect are
at our command, is adding helplessness to our own
affliction, and increasing the burden of others.
When the illustrious Henry Laurens, by the for-
tune of our war of revolution, was held a prisoner
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81
.
S
in the Tower of London, he wrote to his two
daughters, who had been nurtured in all the ten-
derness and luxury of Carolinian wealth : “ It is
my duty to warn you to prepare for the trial of
earning your daily bread by your daily labour.
Fear not servitude; encounter it, if it shall be
necessary, with the spirit becoming a woman of an
honest and pious heart; one who has been neither
fashionably nor affectedly religious." The accom-
plished Madame de Genlis pronounced herself to
be in possession of thirty trades, or varieties of
occupation, by which she could, if necessary, ob-
tain a livelihood. It was a wise law of some of
the ancient governments, which compelled every
parent to give his son some trade, or profession,
adequate to his support. Such is now the variety
of departments open to females, as instructors in
schools and seminaries of their own sex, that they
may follow the impulse of their genius in the selec-
tion of a study or accomplishment, and while they
pursue it as a pleasure, be prepared to practise it
as a profession.
Among employments peculiarly congenial to
the taste of our sex, is the culture of flowers.
The general superintendance of a garden has been
repeatedly found favourable to health, by leading
to frequent exercise in the open air, and that com-
munion with nature which is equally refreshing to
the heart. It was labouring with her own hands
in her garden, that the mother of Washington was
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DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
found by the youthful Marquis de Lafayette, when
he sought her blessing, as he was about to commit
himself to the ocean, and return to his native clime.
Milton, who, you recollect, was a great advocate
that woman should " study household good," has
few more eloquent descriptions than those which
represent our first mother at her floral toil, amid
the sinless shades of Paradise.
The tending of flowers, has ever appeared to me
a fitting care for the young and beautiful. They
then dwell, as it were, among their own emblems;
and many a voice of wisdom breathes on their ear
from those brief blossoms, to which they appor-
tion the dew and the sunbeam. While they era-
dicate the weeds that deform, or the excrescences
that endanger them, is there not a perpetual moni-
tion uttered of the work to be done in their own
heart? From the admiration of these ever-vary-
ing charms, how naturally is the tender spirit led
upward in devotion to Him, “ whose hand per-
fumes them, and whose pencil paints.” Connected
with the nurture of flowers is the delightful study
of botany, which imparts new attractions to the
summer, sylvan walk, and prompts both to salu-
brious exercise, and scientific research. A know-
ledge of the physiology of plants, is not only
interesting in itself, but of practical import.
Brilliant colouring matter, or healthful influ-
ences, may impart value to many an unsightly
shrub, or secluded plant, which might otherwise
i
3
.
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
83
have been suffered to blossom and to die without
a thought.
It is cheering, amid our solitary rambles, to
count as friends, the fair objects that surround us,
call to recollection their distinctive lineaments of
character, array them with something of intelli-
gence or utility, and enjoy an intimate companion-
ship with nature. The female aborigines of
America, were distinguished by an extensive ac-
quaintance with the medicinal properties of plants
and roots, which enabled them, both in peace and
war, to be the healers of their tribes. I would
not counsel you to invade the province of the
physician. In our state of society, it would be
preposterous and arrogant; but sometimes, to
alleviate the slight indispositions of those you love,
by a simple infusion of the herbs which you have
reared, or gathered, is a legitimate branch of that
nursing-kindness which seems interwoven with
woman's nature.
And now, to sun up the whole matter. Though,
in the morning of youth, a charm is thrown over
the landscape, until every thorn in the path may
be hidden, every inequality smoothed, yet still,
life is not “one long summer's day of indolence
and mirth.” The sphere of woman is eminently
practical. There is much which she will be ex-
pected to do, and ought therefore to learn, and to
learn early, if she would acquit herself creditably.
Though, to combine the excellences of a house-
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DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
keeper with much eminence in literature or science,
requires an energy seldom possessed, still there is
no need that domestic duties should preclude men-
tal improvement, or extinguish intellectual enjoy-
ment. They may be united by diligence and
perseverance, and the foundation of these qualities
should be laid now, in youth.
If I have annoyed you, by pressing too much on
your attention the detail of humble and homely
employment, I pray you to forgive me. It is
because I have felt the immense importance of
establishing habits of industry, while life is taking
its stamp and colouring. For, “if the spring yield
no blossoms, in summer there will be no beauty,
and in autumn no fruit." The moments of the
young are like particles of gold, washed onward by
the never-staying flood of time. She who neglects
to arrest them, or who exchanges them for trifles,
must stand in poverty before her Judge. « Thou
shalt always have joy in the evening," says the
good Thomas à Kempis, “if thou hast spent the
day well. Wherever thou art, turn every thing to
an occasion of improvement; if thou beholdest
good examples, let them kindle in thee a desire
of imitation ; if thou seest any thing blameable,
beware of doing it thyself.”
The province of our sex, though subordinate, is
one of peculiar privilege ; sheltered from temp-
tation, and in league with those silent and sleepless
charities, which bless, without seeking applause.
DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS.
The duty of submission, imposed both by the
nature of our station, and the ordinance of God,
disposes to that humility, which is the essence of
piety; while our physical weakness prompts that
trust in Heaven, that implicit leaning upon a
Divine arm, which is the most enduring strength,
and the surest protection.
TN
LETTER VI.
HEALTH AND DRESS.
The importance of attention to health, is uni-
versally admitted. Formerly, the intellectual part
of our nature was too exclusively regarded. Its
early and intense action in every form of precocity
was encouraged. Now, physical welfare is also
consulted. That increasing care is bestowed on
the safety of the temple where the mind lodges,
proves that the structure of that mind is better
understood, and the mutual reaction of the ethereal
and clay companion more clearly comprehended.
The great amount of learning and eloquence
embodied in the medical profession, has illustrated
and enforced this subject. It is not presumed that
this simple volume can suggest anything new. Yet
it is always safe to repeat those precepts which
have peculiar affinity with safety and comfort.
The feebleness of females, especially in our large
cities, has long been a source of remark, regret,
and even reproach. It has been supposed in our own
country, that their vigour has deteriorated for two
..
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HEALTH AND DRESS.
87
or three past generations. Habits of refinement
and affluence seem to have produced an enervating
effect. It is important to inquire for the remedy
and to pursue it.
Regularity in the hours of rising and retiring,
perseverance in exercise, adaptation of costume to
the variations of climate, simple and nutritious
aliment, and “temperance in all things” are ne-
cessary branches of a sanitory regimen. Living in
houses which are kept at too high a temperature
during winter, and disregarding the ventilation of
the sleeping-room, are habits of exceedingly per-
nicious tendency. The power of enduring exposure
to our varying climate, is desirable. Yet as there are
constitutions of such susceptibility, and temporary
states of health to which all are subject, when ex-
posure would be both unwise and unsafe, young
ladies should acquaint themselves with some of
those forms of active domestic industry, which offer
a substitute when walking abroad is prohibited.
Every housekeeper can instruct her daughters in a
sufficient variety of these, to prevent her health
from suffering, during those occasional sequestrations
which must unavoidably occur. Though exercise
in the open air should be daily taken by the young
whenever it is possible, yet it is better to cultivate
that pliancy of constitution which can healthfully
exist for a temporary period without it, than to
create such entire dependance on external move-
ment as to induce languor and sickness when it is
88
HEALTH AND DRESS.
necessarily precluded. A judicious mother pro-
posed to her daughters a certain proportion of
morning exercise with the broom, in the parlour
and in their own apartments. “ This sweeping
makes our arms ache," was their objection after the
trial of a few days. “Try it till your arms do not
ache," was the laconic but kind reply. Her own
experience had taught her that muscular, as well as
mental energy required habitual training. Vigo-
rous exercise will often fortify a feeble constitution.
Walking, especially among rural scenery, is highly
salubrious. Riding on horseback and sea-bathing
are powerful tonics for a delicate tissue of nerves.
Since without health both industry and enjoy-
ment languish, and since the physical imbecility
of our sex, operates so banefully upon the whole
structure of domestic welfare, it is desirable to
multiply those modes of exercise which are deci-
dedly feminine. Among them, few are more con-
ducive to vigour than that almost obsolete one, the
use of the great spinning wheel. A writer of other
times, styles it somewhat quaintly “Hygeia's harp."
The universal exercise which it gives the frame,
makes it an efficacious remedy for debility. Its
regular, moderate use has been found salutary even
in pulmonary affections.
It is a source of regret that domestic manufac-
tures are so generally banished from the houses of
our agriculturists. There are undoubtedly some
fabrics which it would still be profitable to con-
HEALTH AND DRESS.
89
TO
struct there. But admitting that they are less
lucrative than before the establishment of incor-
porated manufactories, the gain which they propose
is of a higher order--the gain of contentment,
homefelt happiness, and that increasing interest in
domestic concerns, for want of which, many of our
young females seek objects of a more exciting and
questionable tendency. The busy sound of the
wheel, mingled, as it often is, with the warbled
strains of the young, as they transmute the snowy
fleece into apparel for those whom they love, has
a native association with cheerfulness and com-
fort.
In ancient times, queens and princesses con-
sidered the use of the distaff as no derogation from
their dignity. Neither, in modern times, is it
always despised. Mrs. Hannah More, after a visit
to the Duchess of Gloucester, and the Princess
Sophia, writes : “ The former gave me a quantity
of worsted, of her own spinning, for me to knit into
stockings for the poor.” If the royalty of England,
and the talent which that royalty acknowledged,
and by which not only England, but the world was
benefited, have not felt such employments beneath
them, why should we?
On the subject of dress, I am aware that much
has been said and written to little purpose. The
laws of fashion are often so preposterous, her do-
minion so arbitrary, that reason and philosophy
can have little hope of gaining ground in her
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:
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HEALTH AND DRESS.
empire. Neither is it wise to expect of the young
a superiority to reigning modes. Singularity is
never desirable; still it is possible not to be eccen-
tric, and yet to avoid such a style of dress as opposes
taste, produces deforinity, or leads to unnecessary
expense. There are a few rules which ought never
to be violated by females.
I. Not to permit fashion to impair health. This
is worse than " to spend money for that which is
not bread, and labour for that which satisfieth not."
Strong contrasts between the costume worn at
home and abroad, in the morning and at evening
parties, are exceedingly prejudicial during the
severity of our climate. How often is it the case,
that a comfortable garment, worn throughout the
winter's day, is thrown off at night, and one of the
lightest texture assumed, with a formidable portion
of the chest and shoulders left uncovered, while the
thermometer is below zero. Mothers, who are
surely interested in the life of your daughters, and
whose advice, it is hoped, is never rejected, these
things nught not so to be.
Would that I might persuade my fair young
friends, of the importance of preserving their feet
in a comfortable and regular temperature. A
delicate silk or cotton stocking, with a thin-soled
shoe, in the depth of winter, may exhibit to advan-
tage a foot of exquisite symmetry, but the cost will
be mournfully computed when the “evil days of
disease come, and the years draw nigh," when, as
HEALTH AND DRESS.
far as health is concerned, it must be said, “ There
is no pleasure in them."
Another point of extreme importance in dress,
is to avoid compression. The evils of obstructed
circulation are formidable; stricture in the region
of the lungs and heart is deeply perilous. Those
watchful sentinels who keep the sacred citadel of
life, and never take rest when the other parts of
the body slumber, deserve better treatment. How
unjust and ungrateful to compel them to labour in
fetters, like a galley-slave, and to put those servants
to the torture who turn the wheels of existence
both night and day! I conceive some knowledge
of anatomy to be a requisite part in the education
of females : an acquaintance with the complicated
structure and mysterious mechanism of this clay
temple, would prevent from so thoughtlessly bring-
ing destructive agents to bear upon its frailty. It
might also heighten adoration of that Being by
whom, to borrow the beautiful figure of Watts,
this " harp of thousand strings is made, and kept
in tune so long."
Few circumstances are more injurious to beauty,
than the constrained movement, suffused com-
plexion, and laboured respiration, that betray tight-
lacing. The play of intelligence and varied emotion,
which throw such a charm over the brow of youth,
are impeded by whatever obstructs the flow of
blood, from the heart to its many organs. In
Greece, where the elements of beauty and grace
92
HEALTH AND DRESS.
TE
were earliest comprehended, and most happily
illustrated, the fine symmetry of the forin was left
untortured.
But the influence of this habit on beauty is far
less to be deprecated than its effects upon health.
That pulmonary disease, affections of the heart,
and insanity, are in its train,—and that it leads some
of our fairest and dearest to fashion's shrine to die,
is placed beyond a doubt, by strong medical testi-
mony.
Dr.Mussey, whose “ Lectures on Intemperance"
have so forcibly arrested the attention of the public,
asserts, that “greater numbers annually die among
the female sex, in consequence of tight-lacing, than
are destroyed among the other sex by the use of
spirituous liquors in the same time.” Is it possible
that thousands of our own sex, with their own hand,
lay the foundation of diseases that destroy life, and
are willing, for fashion's sake, to commit suicide?
Dr. Brigham, in his “ Influence of Mental Cul-
tivation upon Health," asserts, that “whatever
tends to diminish the capacity of the chest, tends
also to produce organic disease of the heart and
lungs. Tight-lacing is ever a dangerous practice,
for if the heart does not suffer, the lungs and spine
very frequently do."
Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for
the Insane, in Connecticut, to whom science and
philanthropy are deeply indebted, adduced many
instances of the fearful effects of obstructed circu.
HEALTH AND DRESS.
93
lation on the brain. Being requested by the in-
structress of a large female seminary, to enforce
on her pupils the evils of compression in dress, he
said, with that eloquence of eye and soul, which
none who once felt their influence can ever forget,
“ The whole course of your studies, my dear young
ladies, conspires to impress you with a reverence
for antiquity. Especially do you turn to Greece,
for the purest models in the fine arts and the loftiest
precepts of philosophy. While sitting as disciples
at the feet of her men of august mind, you may
have sometimes doubted how to balance, or where
to bestow your admiration. The acuteness of
Aristotle, the purity of Plato, the calm unrepented
satisfactions of Socrates, the varied lore of Epicurus,
and the lofty teachings of Zeno, have alternately
attracted or absorbed your attention. Permit me
to suppose that the high-toned ethics of the stoics,
and their elevation of mind, which could teach its
frail companion the body, the proud lesson of in-
sensibility to pain, have won your peculiar com-
placence. Yet, while meting out to them the full
measure of your applause, have you ever recollected
that modern times--that your own country came
in competition for a share of this fame? Has it
occurred to you, that your own sex, even the most
delicate and tender part of it, exceeded the ancient
stoics in the voluntary infliction of pain, and ex-
tinction of pity? Yes, some of the timid and
beautiful members of this seminary may enter the
94
HEALTH AND DRESS.
lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysippus; and
cherish no slight hope of victory. I trust to prove
to you, that the ancient and sublime stoics were
mere tyros in comparison of many a lady of our
own times. In degree of suffering, in extent of
endurance, and in perfection of concealment, they
must yield the palm. I do assure you, that its
most illustrious masters, fruitful as they were in
tests to try the body, never invented, imagined, or
would have been able to sustain that torture of
tight-lacing, which the modern belle steadily inflicts
without shrinking, and bears without repining,
sometimes to her very grave. True, they might
sometimes have broken a bone, or plucked out an
eye, and been silent; but they never grappled iron
and whalebone into the very nerves and life-blood
of their system. They might possibly have passed
a dagger too deeply into the heart, and died; but
they never drew a ligature of suffocation around it,
and expected to live. They never tied up the
mouths of the millions of air vessels in the lungs, -
and then taxed them to the full measure of action
and respiration. Even Pharaoh only demanded
brick without straw for a short time: but the
fashionable lady asks to live without breathing, for
many years.
“ The ancient stoics taught, that the nearest
approach to apathy, was the perfection of their
doctrine. They prudently rested in utter indiffer-
ence; they did not attempt to go beyond it. They
HEALTH AND DRESS.
95
did not claim absolute denial of all suffering; still
less did they enjoin to persist and rejoice in it,
even to the ' dividing asunder of soul and spirit.'
In this, too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady
taking a flight beyond the sublime philosopher.
She will not admit that she feels the slightest
inconvenience. Though she has fairly won laurels
to which no stoic dared aspire-yet she studiously
disclaims the distinction which she faced death to
earn, yea, denies that she has either part or lot in
the matter; surpassing in modesty, as well as in
desert, all that antiquity has boasted, or history
can hope to record.”
We may appeal for evidence of the ravages of
extreme stricture in dress, even to the annals of
the king of terrors. Dr. Reese, in speaking of
the dissection of two young females who had been
addicted to tight-lacing, remarks: “the adhesion
of parts, and derangement of structure, were truly
frightful.”
The opinion of other eminent physicians, it
would be easy to adduce. But I have already to
ask your forbearance for a subject on which I have
been diffuse, because there seemed much to say,
and in earnest, because I felt it to be of importance
to the most beautiful and interesting part of the
community. The late lamented Dr. Spurzheim
assumed the proposition, that the “physical edu-
cation of women was of more importance to the
welfare of the world than that of men.” The rude
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HEALTH AND DRESS.
Spartans well understood this principle. The re-
quisitions of their lawgivers, and the public cares
of the nation, were devoted to the physical welfare,
and athletic developments of our sex. They
omitted in their scale of excellence that intellectual
culture and refinement of sensibility, to which we
too often sacrifice health and vigour. They made
the mind a vassal to the body: we too often make
the body a martyr to the mind. I hope, my dear
young friends, you will sanction neither their vas-
salage, nor our martyrdom, but steering wisely
between extremes, so avoid every species of im-
prudence to which your period of life is too prone,
as not to be condemned to mourn at last, when
the flesh and body are consumed, saying: “How
have I hated instruction, and my heart despised
reproof."
II. Dress should never infringe on delicacy.
This point I would prefer not to dilate upon, but
rather recommend to your own reflection and innate
sense of propriety. Unfavourable inferences are
usually drawn of those who go to extent in any
fashion, whose principle is display. Minds of true
refinement will never be in danger of upholding a
style of dress which leads to indecorous exposure;
and those of discernment cannot fail to perceive,
that what may be thus gained in admiration, is
lost in respect.
III. Dress ought not to involve unnecessary
expense. Every individual, in providing her ward-
HEALTH AND DRESS.
97
robe, should call into exercise a correct judgment,
and a thorough understanding of what she can
afford. Thus she will avoid the uncomfortable
habit of pressing on those who supply her purse,
demands which are inconsistent with their finances.
To make superiors in fortune the standard of imi-
tation, betrays a defective judgment; since a proper
expenditure for them, would in others be extra-
vagant and unjust. Having ascertained the point
of expenditure beyond which you ought not to
go, an account-book should be regularly kept, and
the price of every article purchased, with the date
affixed, be accurately and neatly recorded, that
current expenses, with their annual amount, may
be ever subject to your own inspection, and the
revision of those by whom your resources are
furnished. Whatever your allowance or income
may be, never spend the whole upon your own
person. By moderating your wants, and by eco-
nomy in the preservation of your wardrobe, reserve
to yourself the power and the pleasure of gifts to
those whom you love. Let the claims of the poor
come into remembrance. A well-regulated mind
will experience true satisfaction in avoiding the
purchase of an expensive garment, that the sickly
sufferer may be clothed and fed.
It is a beautiful self-denial for the affluent to
set an example of plainness and simplicity. Such
an influence is peculiarly salutary in our state of
society, where the large class of young females who
7.
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98
HEALTII AND DRESS,
earn a subsistence by labour, are so addicted to
the love of finery, as often to omit substantial and
comfortable articles of apparel, and lay up nothing
from the wages of many years of service. The
conscientious will therefore inquire, not merely if
they are able to indulge in expensive decorations,
but what will be the effect of their example on
those who are not.
IV. Dress should not engross too much time,
The duties of the toilette should be confined to
regular periods, and to reasonable bounds. She
who contemplates her own image too constantly,
will be less disposed for higher subjects of thought.
Neatness, comfort, and a becoming costume, are
objects worthy of attention ; but a profusion of
ornament is neither necessary nor graceful to the
young. There is a beauty in their own fair sea-
son of life, and in the sweet and happy tempera-
ment which ought to accompany it, that strikes
more strongly on the heart than “ gold or pearls,
or costly array.” A showy style of dress is pecu-
liarly inappropriate to those who are pursuing their
education. It indicates that something besides
study has taken possession of the mind.
To highly ornamented and striking apparel in
church, there are still stronger objections. A
morning spent in the decoration of the person, is a
poor preparation for the duties of the soul. An
eye, roving about among surrounding costumes,
during solemn services, and a heart disposed to
:
.
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HEALTH AND DRESS.
comment upon them in the family, are little in
unison with the design of the sabbath, and sinfully
subversive of its sacred privileges.
Let us now dismiss the subject of dress, with
the single remark, that simplicity and grace seem
to be the elements of its power to charm, and that
those will be the least in danger of permitting it
to absorb too much of their time, whose hearts are
filled with the love of higher and better things.
..
LETTER VII.
MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
The desire of pleasing, is natural and strong in
youth. If guided to correct channels, it is an in-
centive to improvement and happiness. When it
rejects the motive of selfishness, and seeks only
to “ please others for their edification," it becomes
a christian virtue. This may be easily distin-
guished from that restless pursuit of popularity,
which being the offspring of ambition and pride,
involves elements of envy and disappointment.
In the art of pleasing, the instruments least
dependent on contingencies, are undoubtedly good
manners. They are of far more importance to the
young than the adventitious distinctions of dress
and beauty : more valuable than the latter, because
more permanent, and more certain in their results
than the former, because a style of dress which
attracts one class of admirers, may be repulsive to
another ; but fine manners are intelligible to all
mankind, and a passport in every country.
7.
MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
101
1
Affability, and the smile of cheerfulness, are ex-
pected from the young, as spontaneous expressions
of the felicity of their fair season of life. "Soft-
ness of manner, and complacency of countenance,"
says Dr. Darwin, “ gentle, unhurried motion, and
a voice clear and tender, are charms that enchant
all hearts.” It was the praise of Anne of Austria,
the mother of Louis the Great, that her manners
evinced dignity without pride, more striking than
even youth and extreme beauty; and that there
was in her countenance such a living charm of
benignant expression, as communicated to those
who beheld her, tenderness chastened by respect.
Good manners, to be consistent, must be founded
on a principle of justice. Their tribute of defer-
ence and respect should be first paid where it is
first due-to parents, teachers, ministers of reli-
gion, civil rulers, superiors in knowledge, and
those whose whitened heads bear the crown of
time and of virtue. It seems to be among the
evils of modern times, that such distinctions are too
little acknowledged. Wealth attracts the gaze of
the vulgar, and sometimes wins influence, though
unassociated with talents or piety; but those
grades of rank which are announced by the voice
of nature, and the precept of God, demand our
reverence. They constitute orders of nobility,
even in a republic; and those who pay them due
honour, reflect honour upon themselves. Espe-
cially is it fitting and graceful for the young of our
:..
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:
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:
102
!! MANNERS AND
1
sex, to recognise the claims which a refined and
religious community impose. Would that I might
persuade each one of them to show the most
marked deference to age. It was remarked of a
lady, distinguished both for talents and accomplish-
ments, that, when in company, she always selected
the oldest persons for her first and highest atten-
tions; afterward children, or those who, from
humble fortune, or plain appearance, were liable to
be neglected, shared that regard from her which
made them happy and at ease. Her manners, if
analyzed, seemed a combination of equity and be-
nevolence; first rendering what she considered to
be due, and then pursuing what she felt to be
delightful. Respect to age, and kindness to child-
hood, are among the tests of an amiable disposi-
tion. Undeviating civility to those of inferior
stations, and courtesy to all, are the emanations of
a well-educated mind, and finely-balanced feelings.
There is a certain blending of dignity with sweet-
ness, not often exhibited, but always irresistible.
Without creating reserve, or chilling friendship, it
repels every improper freedom, and couples respect
with love. It combines a correct estimate of the
high destinies of our nature, with a tender sympathy
for all its infirmities.
There was a fine character of dignity, in the
manner of females of the higher classes in the olden
time. We, of modern days, think it was some-
times carried too. far; but we verge to the oppos
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
103
1
1
site extreme. So anxious are we to be entertaining
in society, that we reserve no power by which its
follies can be checked, or its tendencies elevated.
The mother of Washington was pronounced a
model of true dignity in woman. She possessed
the lofty characteristics of a Roman matron, with
a heart of deep and purified affections, and a ma-
jesty that commanded the reverence of all. At the
head of a large household, whose charge, by the
death of her husband, devolved solely upon herself,
the energy and dignity of her character preserved
subordination and harmony. To the inquiry, what
was the course pursued in the early education of
her illustrious son, she replied, “ The lesson to
obey." When the war of the Revolution, termi-
nating so gloriously for his country and for him,
allowed him, after an absence of nearly seven
years, to pay his filial respects to his venerated
parent, the officers of the French and American
armies were anxious to see the mother of their
chief. A splendid festival, given at Fredericks-
burgh, to welcome the conquerors of Cornwallis,
furnished them with an opportunity. “ The fo-
reign officers,” says Mr. Custis, in his Recollec-
tions of Washington," had heard indistinct
rumours of her remarkable life and character, and
forming their judgments from European examples,
were prepared to expect that glare and show, which
would have been attached to the parents of the
great in the countries of the Old World. How
IT
.
V
. 104
MANNERS AND
were they surprised, when the matron, leaning on
the arm of her son, entered the room, dressed in
the very plain, yet becoming garb, worn by the
Virginian lady of the old time of day. Her ad-
dress, always dignified and imposing, was courteous,
though reserved. She received the complimentary
attentions that were paid her, without evincing
the slightest elevation; and, at an early hour,
wishing the brilliant assembly much enjoyment of
their pleasure, retired, as she had entered, resting
upon the arm of her son. Such an effect had her
simplicity of garb, and dignity of bearing, upon the
officers accustomed to the heartless pomp of Euro-
pean courts, that they affirmed it was no wonder
that “ America produced the greatest men, since
she could boast of such mothers."
The style of manners, like the fashion of dress,
changes with different ages, and takes colouring
from the spirit of the times. Ceremonies vary,
but the ornament of courteous and dignified deport-
ment is never obsolete. It will adorn and give
weight to character, wherever refinement is appre-
ciated, or kindness of heart beloved.
With regard to accomplishments, as they are
popularly termed, so much depends upon circum-
stances, the wishes of those who direct education,
and the impulse of taste, that it would be impossible
to give any definite rule, except that they do not
interfere with the attainment of solid learning. The
true order of acquisition seems to be, first, what is
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
105
necessary; second, what is useful; third, what is
ornamental. To reverse this arrangement is like
beginning to build at the top of the edifice. Let
the foundation be laid firm and deep, and the
superstructure may safely admit of ornament,
Stated parts of the day should be alloted as their
province, that they need not entrench on the limits
of more essential, though less alluring pursuits. .
Before entering upon this part of my subject,
permit me to present a solemn passage from that
eminent author, who has given a motto to this
volume, and whose writings, having been celebrated
throughout the world, ought at least to claim the
deference of her own sex. “Is it fair,” she asks,
" that what relates to the body, and the organs of
the body, I mean those accomplishments which
address themselves to the eye and to the ear, should
occupy almost the whole thoughts; while the
intellectual part is robbed of its due proportion,
and the spiritual part has almost no proportion at
all? Is not this preparing the young for an awful
disappointment in the tremendous day, when they
must be stripped of that body, of those senses and
organs which have been made almost the sole
objects of their attention, and shall feel themselves
in possession of nothing but that spiritual part,
which in education was scarcely taken into the
account of their existence ?" :
A taste for drawing, heightens the admiration of
nature by enforcing a closer examination of her
.
ET
LE
"
VI
SA
106
MANNERS AND
exquisite workmanship, both in the hues of the
wild flower, the grandeur of the forest, and the
glowing beauties of the extended landscape. The
construction of maps, often taught to children at
school, is a good preparation for the study of per-
spective; while the vignettes with which they may
be adorned give exercise and expansion to the
young germs of taste. Those who make such
advances in drawing and painting, as to be able to
sketch designs and groups from history, derive high
intellectual pleasure from this elegant attainment.
Music, at present the most popular of all accom-
plishments, is a source of surpassing delight to
many minds. From its power to soothe the feelings
and modify the passions, it seems desirable to un-
derstand it, if it does not require too great expense
of time. Vocal music is an accomplishment within
the reach of most persons. “I have a piano within
myself,” said a little girl," and I can play on that,
if I have no other."
An excellent clergyman, possessing much know-
ledge of human nature, instructed his large family
of daughters in the theory and practice of music.
They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable
and happy. A friend inquired if there was any
secret in his mode of education. He replied,
“ When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to
them, Sing; and if I hear them speaking against
any person, I call them to sing to me; and so they
have sung away all causes of discontent, and every
.
:
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ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
107
disposition to scandal.” Such a use of this accom-
plishment might serve to fit a family for the com-
pany of angels, and the clime of praise. Young
voices around the domestic altar, breathing sacred
music at the hour of morning and evening devotion,
are a sweet and touching accompaniment.
Instrumental music being more expensive in its
attainment, and its indifferent performance giving
pain to those of refined sensibility, seems scarcely
desirable to be cultivated, unless the impulse of
native tastes justifies the labour. The spirited pen
of Miss Martineau, in her “ Five First Years of
Youth,” has sketched a pleasing description of a
young lady possessing a strong predilection for
music: “She sang much and often, not that she
had any particular aim at being very accomplished,
but because she loved it, or, as she said, because she
could not help it. She sang to Nurse Rickham's
children-she sang as she went up and down stairs
she sang when she was glad and when she was
sorry--when her father was at home, because he
liked it, and when he was out, because he could not
be disturbed by it. In the woods at noonday she
sang like a bird, that a bird might answer her; and
if she awoke in the dark night the feeling of solemn
music came over her, with which she dared not
break the silence."
Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt that
opportunities for its iniprovement should be gladly
accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems cause
.
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MANNERS AND
of regret that time, perhaps health, should be sacri-
ficed to the accomplishment. Even where a tolerable
performance of instrumental music might probably
be attained, without the prompting of decided taste,
there may be danger of dividing too much time and
attention from those employments which a female
ought to understand, and will be expected to dis-
charge." I am nothing when away from the piano,”
said an amateur of music. “If one happens to be
in sight, I am always looking at it; and while people
are talking to me of other things, I think only of
that."
Dancing, which from ancient times ranked high
among accomplishments, has occasionally fallen into
disrepute from the late hours and display in dress
with which it is too often associated. It would be
difficult to say why such accompaniments have
been found necessary. It should be entirely divested
of them, and of the excitement of mixed company,
when it is taught to young ladies who are attending
school. Without these restrictions, it has been
known to break in upon a prosperous course of
study, and substitute frivolous thought and vanity
of dress; and surely the period allotted to female
education is sufficiently limited without such
abridgement.
The polished Addison asserted that the principal
use of a lady's being taught dancing was, that she
might “know how to sit still gracefully.” As a
mode of exercise in the domestic circle, it is health,
M
XXX
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
109
ful, and favourable to a cheerful flow of spirits. I
was once accustomed to witness it in a happy
family, where the children at the close of the read-
ing and lessons which diversified the long winter
evenings, rose to the music of the piano, while the
parents, and even grandparents, mingling with the
blooming circle, gave dignity to the innocent hilarity
in which they participated. There was nothing in
this, to war with the spirit of the prayers which
were soon to follow, or to indispose to that hymn
of praise which hallowed their nightly rest. Of
dancing, with its usual combinations of vanity,
waste of time, and exposure of health, this cannot
be said ; and it ought not, when connected with
these, to be mingled with the education of the
young.
Reading aloud, with propriety and grace, is an
accomplishment worthy the acquisition of all. To
enter into the spirit of an author, and convey his
sentiments with a happy adaptation of tone, em-
phasis, and manner, is no common attainment. It
is peculiarly valuable in our sex, because it so often
gives them an opportunity of imparting pleasure
and improvement to an assembled family, during
the winter evening, or the protracted storm. In
the zeal for feminine accomplishments, it would
seem that the graces of elocution had been too little
regarded. Permit me to fortify my opinion by
the authority of the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet. “I can-
not understand why it should be thought, as it
:
.
..
.
.
:
110
- MANNERS AND
sometimes is, a departure from female delicacy to
read in a promiscuous social circle, if called upon
to do so from any peculiar circumstance, and to
read too as well as Garrick himself, if the young
lady possesses the power of doing it. Why may she
not do this with as much genuine modesty, and
with as much of a desire to oblige her friends, and
with as little of ostentation, as to sit down in the
same circle to the piano, and play and sing in the
style of the first masters? If to do the former is
making too much of a display of her talents, why
should not the latter be so ? Nothing but some
strange freak of fashion can have made a difference."
Fine reading is an accomplishment, where the
inherent music both of the voice and of the intel-
lect may be uttered; for the scope and compass of
each is often fully taxed, and happily developed,
in the interpretation of delicate shades of meaning
and gradations of thought. Its first element, to
be clearly understood, is often too much disre-
garded, so that with some who are pronounced
fashionable readers, low, or artificial intonations, so
perplex the listener, as to leave it doubtful whether
the "uncertain sound be piped or harped."
Thus it sometimes happens, that in fashionable
penmanship, the circumstance that it is to be de-
ciphered seems to have been forgotten. “To read
so as not to be understood, and to write so as not
to be read, are among the minor immoralities,"
says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More. Elegant
TV
21-
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
111
chirography, and a clear epistolary style, are ac-
complishments which every educated female should
possess. Their indispensable requisites are, neat-
ness, the power of being easily perused, ortho-
graphical and grammatical correctness. Defects
in either of these particulars are scarcely pardon-
able. You are aware that the handwriting is con-
sidered one of the talismans of character. Whether
this test may be depended on or not, the fact that
letters travel farther than the sound of the voice,
or the sight of the countenance, renders it desir-
able that they should convey no incorrect or
unfavourable impression. The lesser niceties of
folding, sealing, and superscription, are not beneath
the notice of a lady. Mrs. Farrar, in her excellent
little work on letter-writing, remarks, that it is
“well to find out the best way of doing every
thing, since there is a pleasure in doing things in
the best way, which those miss who think any
way will do." Do not indulge in a careless
style of writing, and excuse yourself on the plea
of haste. This nourishes a habit which will be
detrimental to excellence. Our sex have been
complimented as the possessors of a natural taste
for epistolary composition. It is an appropriate
attainment, for it admits the language of the heart,
which we understand, and rejects the elaborate
and profound sciences, in which we are usually
deficient. Ease and truth to nature are its highest
ornaments; and Cicero proved himself to be no
2
.
112
MANNERS AND
less a master of its excellences, than of his more
sublime art of eloquence, when he said: “What-
ever may be the subject of my letters, they still
speak the language of conversation."
To a finished female education, the acquisition
of languages is generally deemed essential. The
patient research which they require is a good dis-
cipline for the mind; and the additional knowledge
they impart of the etymology and use of our own
native tongue, is both valuable and delightful.
Yet they can scarcely be considered desirable
appendages, unless thoroughly understood. To
preserve many in memory, even after they are
carefully attained, requires more leisure than
usually falls to the lot of woman, when life's cares
accumulate around her. The attempt to pass off
before a critic, a smattering of a foreign tongue, is
a vanity easily detected, and always despised.
Those ladies who have the leisure, the intellect,
and the love of severe study, necessary to conquer
the idioms of the dead and living languages, will
doubtless find stores of literature and gems of
thought sufficient to repay the toil. Still, I press
the monition, avoid being superficial. It is the
danger of females of the present age. Expected
to traverse a formidable section of the sciences, and
perhaps, also, of the fine arts, in a few short years,
and those years too often injudiciously curtailed by
the vanities of dress and fashionable amusement, is
it surprising that they should sometimes have the
.
.
.
::
4.
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
113
reputation of possessing, what they really do not
understand ? Thus they even become willing to
appear to others what in reality they are not.
Superficial knowledge induces superficial habits of
thought. It strikes at the root of integrity. The
love of display, is often permitted to enter too much
into the tissue of female education. Almost the
whole routine of domestic duty is opposed to it.
Hence, there springs up a warfare between the
early training and ultimate business of woman,
which her whole life is sometimes too short to
harmonize and settle.
“ Brilliant talents, graces of person, confirmed
intrepidity, and a continual habit of displaying
these advantages, seem all that is aimed at in the
education of girls. The virtues that make domestic
life happy—the sober and useful qualities which
render a moderate fortune and retired situation
comfortable, are never inculcated. The parents'
first error, in the preference of accomplishments to
virtues, naturally leads their miseducated daughters
to prefer sentiment to principle, and make it the
guide of their life.” This is the suffrage of the
late celebrated Mrs. Montague. Surely none could
be better qualified to pronounce the value of
brilliance, grace, and accomplishments, or to lay
them in the balance with that solid knowledge, pure
principle, and domestic virtue, whose aggregate is
but another name for happiness.
Let us then be less anxious to make a display of
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MANNERS AND
accomplishments, than to possess true merit. The
words of Archbishop Tillotson are of weighty
import: “ Sincerity is to speak as we think, to do
as we intend and profess, to perform and make
good what we promise, and really to be what we
would seem and appear to be."
For those whose lot forbids both the acquisition
of accomplishments, and the embellishments of
dress, there remains an attainment less adventitious
and more durable in its impression than either.
True politeness, that charm to which every nature
is susceptible, is within their reach. It is often
seen rendering poverty and the plainest exterior
agreeable, while its absence makes knowledge re-
pulsive, and robs beauty of its power to please.
This was what added the most attractive charm
to the beautiful Lady Jane Grey. The learned
Roger Ascham, after expatiating on her accom-
plishments, the elegance of her compositions, and
her intimate acquaintance with the French, Italian,
Latin, and Greek languages, adds, as the crowning
grace, the “possession of good manners."
True politeness requires humilty, good sense,
and benevolence. To think more “highly of our-
selves than we ought to think," destroys its
quickening principle. Idle and heartless ceremony
may spring up from its decayed root, but the
counterfeit is ever detected. Its first effort is to
subdue and extirpate selfishness; its next to ac-
quire that knowledge of human nature, which will
ACCOMPLISHMENTS.
115
enable it wisely to regulate itself, by the sympathies
of those around. Its last feature reveals alliance
with a higher family than the Graces. Forming a
bright link between the accomplishments and vir-
tues, it claims affinity with that heaven-born spirit
which, on the plains of Bethlehem, breathed in
melody from the harps of angels, "peace on earth,
and good will to men.”
I
LETTER VIII.
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
Duties which rest on the basis of the affections,
it would seem, might easily be performed. Nature,
in pouring the blood from the same fountain, gives
bond for their faithful discharge. Those who were
nurtured on the same breast, and rocked in the
same cradle, who side by side took their first tot-
tering steps, who together shared paternal tender-
ness, admonition, and prayer, ought to form a bond
of the firmest and fondest alliance. Clustered like
pearls upon the same thread, each should live in
the reflected light and beauty of the other. Twined
and woven together in the very elements of their
existence, the cordage should resist every shock save
the stroke of the spoiler. Encompassed and girded
by the holiest sympathies, whatever may be the
pressure or the adverse action of the world, they
should stand as the Macedonian phalanx, or, still
more impenetrable, as that christian brotherhood,
which is to be unbroken and perfected in heaven.
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
117
Yet is it always thus? The Book of Truth makes
answer, a “brother offended is harder to be won
than a strong city: their contentions are like the bars
of a castle.” It admits then that there may exist in
this endeared union possibilities of discord, and
elements of estrangement. History has shown
the ties of blood trampled on by ambition, but it
lias set its strong seal of reprobation on Cambyses
and Caracalla.
Our own observation teaches us that this sacred
concord is sometimes broken, and that it too often
fails of the entire harmony which it might exem-
plify. Sisterly and fraternal affection ought to
imply sympathy, confidence, aid in every momentous
crisis, and an unity which nothing can sever. Why
should those whom nature has enriched with such
friends, shrink from any measure of the world's
unkindness ? Disappointments may well be borne
by spirits thus fortified. And when the novelty
is stripped from life, and its burdens make the
heart serious, what an inspiring cheerfulness enters
into it from the smile of the sister who drank with
us our first cup of joy, the voice of the brother
which mingled in our earliest infant melodies.
Those who are thus blessed, cannot estimate the
loneliness of the beings whose childhood was bereft
of such companionship, who go through life pursuing
coveted sympathies, and grasping shadows-making
to themselves molten images instead of living
and legitimate comforters, perhaps rashly solacing
.
118
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
themselves for the denial of nature, by unfolding
to strangers the sorrowful secrecies of a brotherless
and sisterless heart. This deprivation of one of
the deepest and purest sources of affection, should
be viewed and borne as a bereavement, intended to
lead the spirit to a more intense search after
heavenly consolations.
Those who have the solace of fraternal relation-
ship should endeavour to appreciate its privilege,
and affectionately to discharge its obligations. How
many forms may these obligations take in the varied
intercourse of life! It was through the sisterly
affection of Madame Dacier that her genius was
first brought to light. While employed in child-
hood, at her task of embroidery, her brother ren-
dered his recitations to their father in the same
room. His examinations in the classics were close
and rigid, and when she saw him hesitating or con-
fused, her sympathy was awakened. She therefore
prepared herself to act as his prompter, and while
she seemed quite engaged in assorting her silks, or
arranging their shades in her tapestry, earnestly
watched his progress, and as soon as he was dis-
tressed or at a loss, would suddenly look up from
her needle, and make answer for him. Her father
thus discovering her superior talents, was induced to
give her a learned education. Thus on the amiable
basis of love for a brother rose the fame of the
future translator of Callimachus, who for many
years by her own efforts, and afterward in con-
..
SISTERLY VIRTUES,
119
junction with her husband, transfused the wealth of
the Greek and Roman classics into the language
and literature of France.
Fraternal affection is as graceful in its develop-
ments to the eye of the beholder, as it is cheering
to the heart where it resides. There are some,
who though not deficient in its more important
duties, are but too regardless of those lesser de-
monstrations of attachment, which are so soothing
to the susceptible heart. Every delicate attention
which tenderness prompts, every mark of politeness
which refined society requires, ought to pervade
the intercourse of brothers and sisters. It is a mis-
taken policy to reserve good manners for strangers
or visitors, and allow negligence or coarseness to
prevail in the family circle. The basis of love may
be shaken by a deportment of indifference or un-
kindness, more than by lapses into error and folly.
For the latter, repentance may atone ; while the
former check the flow of the heart's warm fountains,
until they stagnate or become congealed.
I knew a father, himself a model of polished
manners, who required of his large family to treat
each other at all times with the same politeness
that they felt was due to their most distinguished
friends. Rudeness, neglect, or indifference, were
never tolerated in their circle. Respect to each
other's opinion, a disposition to please and be
pleasing, care in dress and courtesy of manner,
were not considered thrown away, if bestowed on
120
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
A
a brother or a sister. Every one of the group
was instructed to bring amiable feelings and
powers of entertainment to their own fireside.
The result was happy. The brothers felt it an
honour to wait upon their sisters, and the sisters
a pleasure to do all in their power for the comfort
and improvement of their brothers. This daily
practice of every decorum imparted to their man-
ners an enduring grace, while the affections which
Heaven implanted seemed to gather strength from
the beauty of their interchange. I would not as-
sert that fraternal or sisterly affection may not be
deep and pervading without such an exterior, yet
it is surely rendered more lovely by it; as the
planets might pursue in darkness the order of their
course, but it is their brilliance which reveals and
adorns it.
Every well-regulated family might be as a per-
petual school. The younger members, witnessing
the example of those whose excellence is more
confirmed, will be led by the principle of imitation
more effectually than by the whole force of foreign
precept. The custom of the older daughters to
assist in the education of their less advanced sis-
ters, I rejoice to see, is becoming more common.
It cannot be too highly applauded. What should
prevent their assuming the systematic office of
instructors when circumstances are favourable to
such an arrangement ?
“I cannot," says the young lady nurtured in
.
.
..
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
121
affluence, “ go forth as a teacher of strangers. My
feelings shrink from such notoriety. There seems
a sort of degradation in it, to which I am not willing
to submit. Still I acknowledge that our sex can
do great good by teaching, and I have a desire to
do good.”
Here then is the opportunity. You need not
leave your home for the abode of strangers. Your
delicacy will not be distressed by exposure, nor
your pride, if you acknowledge such a guest,
wounded by a change of station. Here are your
scholars, bone of your bone, and flesh of your
flesh, gathered under the same shelter, seated
around the same board. Whatever you have to
teach, impart kindly and diligently, in the fear of
the Lord. Doubt not he will give you a reward
in the heightened affection of those whom you
serve-in the deeper root and fairer harvest of that
knowledge whose fruits you thus divide. Shaking
the superflux to them, you increase your own mental
wealth. If you cannot assume the whole charge
of their education, take a part. Labour in a
single department. Hold yourself responsible for
their proficiency in the branch that you under-
take to teach. Whatever advances you have made
in knowledge, you cannot but be most happy to
share their benefits with those so dear. Consider
your own education as quite incomplete, until self-
education is added; and there is no better mode
of facilitating this than the instruction of others.
A
122
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
It furnishes the strongest motive to fashion your
own example on that model of purity and excel-
lence which you urge them to pursue. “ For their
sakes," said the apostle, speaking of those who
had listened to his instructions" For their sakes
I sanctify myself.”
By what method can a daughter more fully
evince her gratitude to her parents, than by aiding
their children in the search of knowledge and of
goodness? How amiable, how praiseworthy, is
that disposition which prompts a young and beau-
tiful creature to come forth as the ally of a mother,
in that most overwhelming of all anxieties, so to
train her little ones as to form at last an unbroken
family in heaven. No better apprenticeship for
future duty could be devised, and no firmer hostage
given to God or man, for its faithful performance.
Permit me to point out a subordinate mode of
doing good, in which the young ladies of a family
might happily co-operate. Fortunately the an-
cient custom of receiving into the household some
child of poverty, and rearing it as an assistant in
domestic toils until qualified to earn a subsistence,
has not yet fallen into entire disuse. A strong
additional reason for receiving and extending it, is
now found in the increasing difficulty of obtaining
servants. Housekeepers, who thus rescue but a
single being from ignorance or vice, to be trained
for usefulness and virtue, confer no trifling benefit
on the community.
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
123
In a service of this nature, mothers might safely
and successfully associate their daughters. Could
they not depute the intellectual culture of their
humble protégé to those young instructors ?-
Would it not be to them a profitable exercise ?
By making them in a measure accountable for the
intelligence and correct deportment of their pupil,
would not kind and generous dispositions be che-
rished on one side, and gratitude take root on the
other?
Might not the young ladies of a family, in the
attentions bestowed on a female of this class, some-
times adopt as an ultimate object, the preparation
of an assistant to mothers in the physical care of
their little children? It must surely be a pleasure
to inculcate the neatness, patience, tenderness,
purity of thought, and piety, which are essential
to that interesting and important station. Beside
these requisites, the young benefactresses should
cultivate in their pupil a taste for useful books
and improving conversation, as well as the accom-
plishment of telling Bible stories, and of singing
soothing and simple melodies. A class of nurses
thus endowed, and possessing the correct deport-
ment which accompanies good sense and good
temper, would be invaluable, and deserve to be
treated with respect, and regard by all whom
they should serve. Let the young ladies of our
land take pains to educate such individuals when-
ever it shall be in their power. They will win
.
124
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
the warm thanks of that multitude of mothers,
who are often so overburdened with the physical
care of their offspring, as to be forced to neglect
their moral training, and who continue to bear
this burden from inability to find those who might
share it, without exposing the opening mind to
the contamination of ignorace, vulgarity, or im-
moral example.
Those young ladies who may be willing to add
to their bright class of sisterly virtues the instruc-
tion of the younger members of their beloved
family circle, should endeavour to teach agreeably.
As far as possible they should secure the affec-
tions of their pupils, and represent knowledge to
them as another name for happiness. A sisterly
instructor must not rest satisfied to teach only by
the hearing of lessons, or the repetition of pre-
cepts; but by gentle deportment, cheering smiles,
tender tones, and the whole armory of love.
Most of our incitements to sisterly effort will
apply with peculiar force to the oldest daughter
of the family. The right of primogeniture, though
not acknowledged under our form of government,
still exists under certain limitations, in almost
every household. It does not, indeed, as in some
other countries, transmit a double portion of the
paternal inheritance, or a lofty title, or a royal
prerogative; but Nature herself gives preemi-
nence to the first-born, who promotes the parent,
at once, to the climax of enjoyment and of duty,
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
125
V
and wakes those springs of unutterable affection,
which nothing but the ice of death can seal. The
voice which first told the young man he was a
father, will never be forgotten-though that voice
was but the wail of the feeblest infant. The little
hand, whose touch first kindled in a mother's
heart an emotion not to be defined by language,
an aspiration of ecstasy never before breathed or
imagined, will be leaned on in adversity or widow.
hood with peculiar trust; and the balm-cup which
it offers, will be taken with complacency, even to
hoary hairs. There will often be found lingering
in the parental bosom, some mixture of that partial
tenderness, with which a dying patriarch styled
his first-born, notwithstanding his prominent faults,
the “excellency of dignity, and the excellency of
power."
Admitting, therefore, that priority of birth im-
plies some degree of precedence, not in power or
wealth, but in influence over the affections of the
domestic circle, it should be the earnest inquiry of
all thus situated, how they may accomplish the
greatest amount of good. The station of eldest
sister has always appeared to me so peculiarly
important, as to assume almost a sacred character.
The natural adjunct and ally of the mother, she
comes forth among the younger children both as a
monitress and an example. She readily wins their
confidence, from a conviction, that more freshly
than even the parent, she is “ touched with the
126
SISTERLY VIRTUES,
feeling of their infirmities." She will sometimes
be empowered to act as an ambassador to the higher
powers, while the indulgence that she obtains, or
the penalty that she mitigates, goes down into the
vale of years, among sweet and cherished re-
membrances. In proportion to her interest in their
affections, will be her power to improve their
characters, and to allure them by the bright ex-
ample of her own more finished excellence. Her
influence upon brothers is often eminently happy.
Of a young man, who evinced high moral principle,
with rich and refined sensibilities, unusually deve-
loped, it was once said by an admiring stranger,
“I will venture to predict that he had a good
sister, and she was older than himself."
It has been my lot to know many elder sisters
of surpassing excellence. I have seen them as-
suming the office of teacher, and faithfully impart-
ing to those whose understandings were but feebly
enlightened, the advantages of their own more
complete education. I have seen them softening
and modifying the character of brothers, breath-
ing until it melted, upon obduracy which no
authority could subdue.
I have seen one in the early bloom of youth,
and amid the temptations of affluence, so aiding,
cheering, and influencing a large circle of brothers
and sisters, that the lisping student came to her to
be helped in its lesson-and the wild one from its
sports brought the torn garment trustingly to her
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
127
needle--and the erring child sought her advice or
mediation--and the delighted infant stretched its
arms to hear her bird-like song and the cheek of
the mother, leaning on so sweet a substitute, for-
got to fade.
I knew another, on whose bosom the head of a
sick brother rested, whose nursing-kindness failed
not night or day, from whom the most bitter
medicine was submissively taken, and who, grasping
the thin cold hand in hers, when death came, saw
the last glance of the sufferer's gratitude divided
between her, and the mother who bare him.
I have seen another, when the last remaining
parent was taken to God, come forth in her place,
the guide and comforter of the orphans. She be-
lieved that to her who was now in heaven, the most
acceptable mourning would be to follow her injunc-
tions, and to fulfil her unfinished designs. Her
motto was the poet's maxim :-
“He mourns the dead, who live as they desire.”
As if the glance of that pure, ascended spirit was
constantly upon her, she entered into her unfinished
labours. To the poor, she was the same messen-
ger of mercy; she bore the same crosses with a
meek and patient mind. But especially to her
younger sisters and brothers, she poured out, as it
were, the very essence of her being. She cheered
their sorrows, she shared and exalted their plea-
sures, she studied their traits of character, that she
.
128
SISTERLY VIRTUES.
might adapt the best methods both to their infir-
mities and virtues. To the germ of every good
disposition she was a faithful florist—to their way-
wardness she opposed a mild firmness, until she
prevailed.
She laid the infant sister on her own pillow,
she bore it in her arms, and rejoiced in its growth,
and health, and beauty. And when it hasted on
its tottering feet to her, as to a mother, for it had
known no other, the smile on that young brow,
and the tear that chastened it, were more radiant
than any semblance of joy which glitters in the
halls of fashion. The little ones grew up around
her, and blessed her, and God gave her the reward
of her labours, in their affection and goodness.
Thus she walked day by day, with her eye to her
sainted mother, and her heart upheld by the hap-
piness which she diffused. And as I looked upon
her, I thought that she was but a “little lower
than the angels.”
LETTER IX.
BOOKS.
A Taste for reading is important to all intel-
lectual beings. To our sex, it may be pronounced
peculiarly necessary. It is important to all, because
it is the way in which aliment is conveyed to the
mind and to our sex peculiarly necessary, because
dwelling much on the contemplation of little things,
they are in danger of losing the intellectual appe-
tite. Their sphere of household employment en-
grossing much attention to its cardinal points,
“ what shall we eat, and wherewithal be clothed ?"
is exposed both to the atrophy of ignorance, and
the puffing up of superficial knowledge. A taste
for reading is therefore to them an armour of
defence. It is a resource when the world exposes
its emptiness, or the things of the world reveal their
inability to satisfy the heart. Men go abroad into
the busy current of life, and bury their chagrins
and disappointments, and lose the narrowness of
personal speculation in its ever-fluctuating tides.
Home, the woman's province, admits of less variety.
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She should, therefore, diversify it by an acquaint-
ance with the world of intellect, and shed over it the
freshness derived from the exhaustless fountains of
knowledge. She should render herself an enter-
taining and instructive fire-side companion, by daily
replenishing her treasury with that gold which the
hand of the robber may not reach, nor the rust of
time corrode. The love of books is also a refuge
in those seasons of indisposition, when active duties
are laid aside, when even conversation is a burden,
and that gaiety of heart which was as sunshine to
life's landscape, vanishes away. In youth and
health, you can scarcely appreciate the truth of
this argument. But confirm now your taste for
reading into a habit, and when the evil days come,
you will be better able to prove its value, than I
am to enforce it.
Devote even the fragments of your leisure to
some useful book. Pliny employed a person to
be always reading to him, as he rode from place
to'place, in his sedan. He made extracts even
from common works, for he said, “ there is no
book so poor as not to afford something valuable."
The great Roman orator, Cicero, read with a pen
in his hand, ever making comments. “Secure
the interstices of your time,” says the celebrated
Robert Hall, “ and you will be astonished to find
how much reading you will get through in a year."
Yet I trust that you will not be contented to leave
a pursuit of such magnitude to casual and inter-
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rupted portions of time. I hope to persuade you
to establish a systematic course of reading. A
statesman of queen Elizabeth, who was well ac-
quainted with her habits, said in the quaint lan-
guage of those times : “ That great princess used,
to the very last year of her life, to appoint set
hours for reading, scarcely any young student of
any university more daily or more duly." Set
apart a stated period of each day for this em-
ployment. Have it understood that it will not be
dispensed with, except from imperative necessity.
Continue your habits of study, when you cease to
attend school. That crisis is often a hazardous
one in the history of a young lady. If she has
gained distinction there, without a radical love of
knowledge, her improvement ceases with the ex-
citement that sustained it. If the allurements of
dress, and the haunts of fashionable amusement,
were secretly coveted during the period of classical
dacation, she will rush into them with an eager-
ness proportioned to her previous restraint. Satis-
fied with past honours, and believing that she has
already attained, and is already perfect," she
slumbets at her post, and in a few years perceives
those outstripping her, whose talents she once
held in contempt. Every young lady who, at
leaving school, entertains a clear and comfortable
conviction that she has finished her education,
should recollect the reproof of the excellent Dr.
Rush to a young physician, who spoke of the
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time when he finished his studies : “When you
finished your studies! Why you must be a happy
man to have finished so young. I do not expect
to finish mine as long as I live." Life is but one
great school ; and we are all pupils, differing indeed
in growth and progress, but all subjects of disci-
pline, all invested with the proud privilege of ac-
quiring knowledge, as long as the mind retains its
powers. There is an affecting lesson in the death
of that philosopher, who, after it was supposed
that breath had forsaken him, faintly raised his
head to listen to some improving conversation that
was conducted in his chamber, and even drew the
curtain, saying, “ I shall be most happy to die,
learning something."
But while a taste for reading is so desirable, the
nature of what we read is unspeakably important.
Books produce the same effect on the mind, that
diet does on the body. They may not merely fail
to impart salutary aliment, but convey that which
is pernicious. Miscellaneous reading has become
so fashionable, its materials are so abundant, and its
supply so boundless, that it is difficult to know
how to select, or where to fix a limit. May we
not say, with my lord Bacon, “ There seemeth to
be a superfluity of books. But shall no more be
made? Yea! make more good books, which, like
the rod of Moses, may devour the serpents of the
enchanters ?"
Works of imagination usually predominate in
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the libraries of young ladies. To condemn them
in a mass, as has been sometimes done, is not just.
Some of them are the productions of gifted minds,
and abound with the noblest sentiments. Yet,
discrimination, with regard to them, is indispens-
able, and such discrimination as a novice cannot
exercise. The young should therefore ask guidance
of an experienced and cultivated mind, and devote
to this class of reading only a moderate portion of
time, as to a recreation. Frequent and long in-
dulgence in it creates dislike for the patient acqui-
sition of solid learning ; as compound and poignant
dishes destroy a relish for plain and healthful food.
It forms habits of desultory thought, and weakens
mental discipline. Its object is not to read and
remember, but to read and be amused. So the
imagination may be pleased and pampered, but, to
borrow a poet's metaphor, the hungering judgment
“looks up, and is not fed."
Among works of this description, those which
are denominated novels of deep and stirring in-
terest, heighten in the young mind those powers
which need no excitement. In the language of
Mrs. Hannah More-
“They add fresh strength to what before was strong."
They encourage those fruitless reveries, and illusive
views of life, which are injurious to those whose
business is to reason and to act; to bear and to
forbear. They have been pronounced sometimes
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2
to exercise a beneficial influence on those over
whose faculties the torpor of age is stealing, whose
slumbering perceptions need to be touched through
the nerve of early and tender association, or where
memory is in danger of becoming lethargic, unless
awakened by the heart. They can no longer mis-
lead the traveller when his journey is accomplished.
He can compare their highly-coloured delineations
with the sober truth of life's “twice told tale,"
and be safely entertained. Yet there is no need
for the young to exhaust the cordials of age. It
is wiser to be busied in furnishing a full store-
house for that approaching winter, when the errors
of seedtime cannot be corrected, nor the sloth of
harvest repaired; when the mind in its weariness
is too feeble to dig, and in its poverty, to “beg
will be ashamed."
History has ever been warmly commended to
the attention of the young. It imparts knowledge
of human nature, and supplies lofty subjects for
contemplation. It should be read with constant
reference to geography and chronology. A fine
writer has called these, “the eyes of history."
They are also the grappling irons by which it
adheres to memory. As some historians are de-
ficient in dates, or not lucid in their arrangement,
a table of chronology, and an atlas, ancient and
modern, should be the inseparable companions of
all books of history, which are to be studied with
profit. It is a good practice to fix in the memory
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some important eras, the subversion of an empire
for instance, and then ascertain what events were
taking place in all other nations, at the same period
of time. A few of these parallels, running through
the history of the world, will collect rich clusters
of knowledge, and arrange them in the conser-
vatory of the mind.
History is replete with moral lessons. The
instability of human power, the tyranny of man
over man, and the painful truth that the great are
not always the good, mark almost every page of
its annals.
Read history with candour and independence of
mind. Examine the opinions of the historian,
and see how slight is the gilding of false glory.
Analyze the admiration which has been so pro-
fusely bestowed on warriors and heroes. And if
conquerors are discovered to have wrought more
evil than good, to have polluted the fountains of
peace and liberty, to have wantonly shed blood,
and caused misery for their own aggrandizement,
let the sentence upon their deeds be given in
equity, though the heathen world may have counted
them as gods, and Christendom blindly sanctioned
the homage.
Next in intellectual interest to history, and su-
perior to it in its influence upon the heart, is the
study of biography. “The mind," said Livy, "in
contemplating antiquity, itself becomes antique."
Thus, the study of pure and elevated characters,
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imparts, if not the power, at least the desire of
imitation. Through this familiar intercourse with
the wise and good, we forget the difference of rank,
and the distance upon earth's surface, that divided
us. We almost listen to their voices, and number
them among our household friends. We see the
methods by which they became distinguished, the
labours by which their eminence was purchased, the
piety that rendered them beloved; and as by our
chosen associates the character is modified, so the
heart exhibits some transcript of the models kept
most constantly in view.
· The poets will naturally be favourites in the
library of an educated young lady. They refine
sensibility, and convey instruction. They are the
friends of nature and knowledge, and quicken in
the heart a taste for both. “ The song of the
muse allureth to the land of learning," says a
quaint, yet shrewd writer. “The poet," saith Sir
Philip Sydney, “ doth at the very first give you a
cluster of grapes, that, full of their taste, you may
long to pass further. This world is a brazen
world; the poets alone deliver a golden one, which
whoever dislikes the fault is in his own judgment,
and not in the sweet food of sweetly uttered
knowledge."
Your course of reading should also comprise the
annals of painting, sculpture, and architecture.
Human genius has seldom displayed itself more
gloriously than in these departments. To throw
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life into inanimate canvas, to make dull marble
breathe, indicate as much of creative power as
may be deputed to man. The efforts of the
Grecian chisel have been the world's admiration
for two thousand years; and though the colours
of the pencil of Helle have faded, yet the names
of her painters survive in the freshness of immor-
tality. Upon the revival of letters, Michael Angelo
seized with unfaltering hand the chisel of Phidias.
Raphael and Titian, Correggio and Guido, suc-
cessively emulated, in their radiant traces and fine
conceptions, the more ancient masters.
· Architecture, in its various orders and grades of
proportion and symmetry, is worthy of attention.
There is much to be reformed among the com-
posite orders which prevail in our western world,
ere models of pure taste can become abundant.
One of our departed statesmen said, that the
“genius of architecture seemed to have shed its
maledictions upon our land." The fine arts are
not indigenous to an infant country; but the
cradle-reachings of our own have been after them,
and she has wielded the pencil with no feeble
hand. The destiny of an educated woman may,
perhaps, lead her to the older continent; or before
the bright eyes that explore these pages are dim
with age, our native artists, or our increasing mu-
nificence, may furnish the means of viewing and
admiring at home, those monuments of taste
which mingle with the glory of Europe.
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Mental philosophy claims a high rank among
the studies of youth. It promotes self-knowledge,
one of the direct avenues to wisdom. If the map
of man be interesting, though darkened with crime,
and stained with blood, how much more the
peaceful map of the mind, that “mind, which is
the standard of the man."-"Ye admire," says an
ancient philosopher, “the Georgics of Virgil ; why
slight ye the georgics of the mind, which treat of
the husbandry and tillage thereof?"
I am persuaded that you would find logic a
subject of sufficient interest to enter into your
course of reading. The art of thinking, so impor-
tant to all who have the power of thought, is
too little studied by our sex. Our inverted
mode of reasoning, and the slight structure of our
arguments, expose us to the criticism even of school.
boys. A science which, according to the concise
definition of Watts, " teaches to use reason well,
in inquiries after truth,” is an important aid in the
acquisition of other sciences.
Ethics and sacred literature will undoubtedly
occupy a prominent place in your system. These
embrace a wide range, and comprehend some of the
most highly endowed minds of which our world can
boast.Books for perusal on the sabbath, should
ever partake of the character of that consecrated
day. The command, to rescue a seventh part of
our time from the vanities of life, and select such
topics of meditation and discourse as serve to
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prepare for a higher and purer state of existence,
is indeed a great privilege. I pray you to regard it
as such, and to improve it faithfully. It will break
in upon the follies of the week, and form link after
link of that golden chain which binds the heart to
heaven.
The author of the excellent lecture on the
“ Temporal benefits of the Sabbath,” remarks :
“Almost every one knows the effect of a journey
on the views that we habitually take of our busi-
ness. We look back from a distance, and find
that to some things we had given far too large a
place in our thoughts and in our hearts. We cor-
rect our false estimates, and return to our posts
with rectified judgment, as well as renovated health.
The sabbath has a similar effect in ſclearing away
the mists that blind our judgment; and we shall
never know in this world from how many foolish
and ruinous plans we have escaped through its in-
fluence. The current of earthly schemes and cares
must be checked, the chain of worldly associations
broken, or as to intellectual benefits, the sabbath
comes and goes in vain. The power to check this
current, to break this chain, belongs chiefly to the
sublime and momentous concerns of eternity. They
disenchant the heart, as nothing else can, of the
spirit of gain and ambition. They drive the strong
man armed' from his castle, and give the imprisoned
mind a temporary respite."
Let the Scriptures form a part of the study of
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every day. Read a stated portion in the morning,
with the aid of some commentary, and let its spirit
go with you, as a guide and a counsellor. Never read
the book of Heaven in haste, or as a task, with a wan-
dering intellect, or without subsequent meditation.
All systematic reading should be with a fixed
purpose to remember and to profit. Cultivate the
retentive power, by daily and persevering exercise.
If any one complains that she has a weak memory,
it is her own fault. She does not take due pains
to give it strength. Does she forget the period
for meals, the season for repose? Does she forget
the appointed hour for the evening party, or to
furnish herself with a fitting dress in which to
appear there? Does she forget the plot of the last.
romance, or the notes of a fashionable piece of
music? Yet some of these involve detail, and
require application.
Why then might not the same mind contain a
few historical facts, with their correlative dates?
Frankly, because it does not feel the same interest,
nor put forth the same effort. Some, who are not
willing entirely to forget what they read, content
themselves with making extracts from the books
that pass through their hands. But this is not a
successful mode of impressing their contents. To
form a written memory is like "making to our-
selves a graven image," and suffering the spiritual
essence to escape. All reliance on memoranda is a
false indulgence to memory. It is keeping her in
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leading-strings, when she should walk erect, like a
labourer to the field. It would seem that she
shared in the indolence of our common nature, and
would willingly accept of any substitute that would
relieve her from responsibility. But so important
are her functions to the welfare of the immortal
mind, that she should feel it her duty to be as
sleepless as the Roman sentinel; and if the idea
committed to her custody escape, be made to
answer for her sin.
I am inclined to think memory capable of inde-
finite improvement, by a judicious and persevering
regimen. Read, therefore, what you desire to re-
member, with concentrated and undivided attention.
Close the book, and reflect. Undigested food throws
the whole frame into a ferment. Were we as well
acquainted with our intellectual, as with our physi-
cal structure, we should see undigested knowledge
producing equal disorder in the mind.
To strengthen the memory, the best course is
not to commit page after page verbatim, but to
give the substance of the author correctly and
clearly in your own language. Thus the under-
standing and memory are exercised at the same
time; and the prosperity of the mind is not so
much advanced by the undue prominence of any
one faculty, as by the true balance and vigorous
action of all. Memory and understanding are also
fast friends, and the light which one gains will be
reflected upon the other.
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Use judgment in selecting from the mass of
what you read, the parts which it will be useful
or desirable to remember. Separate and arrange
them, and give them in charge to Memory. Tell
her it is her duty to keep them, and to bring them
forth when you require. She has the capacities of
a faithful servant, and possibly the dispositions of
an idle one. But you have the power of enforcing
obedience, and of overcoming her infirmities. At
the close of each day, let ber come before
you, like Ruth to Naomi, and “beat out that
which she has gleaned." Let her winnow repeat-
edly what she has brought from the field, and
“gather the wheat into the garner," ere she goes
to repose.
This process, so far from being laborious, is one
of the most delightful that can be imagined. To
compress is perhaps the only difficult part of it;
for the casket of memory, though elastic, has
bounds, and if surcharged with trifles, the weigh-
tier matters will find no fitting place.
While Memory is in this course of training, it
would be desirable to read no books whose con-
tents are not worth her care ; for if she finds her-
self often excused, or seldom called, she may take
airs, like a froward child, and not come when she
is called. Summon her to stand with her tablet
ready whenever you open a book, and then show
her sufficient respect not to summon her to any
book unworthy of her.
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ET
To facilitate the management of Memory, it is
well to keep in view that her office is three-
fold. Her first effort is to receive knowledge; her
second, to retain it; her last, to bring it forth
when it is needed. The first act is solitary, the
silence of fixed attention. The next is also sacred
to herself and her ruling power, and consists in fre-
quent, thorough examination of the state and order
of the things committed to her. The third act is
social, rendering her treasures available to the good
of others. Daily intercourse with a cultivated mind
is the best method to rivet, refine, and polish the
hoarded gems of knowledge. Conversation with
intelligent men is eminently serviceable. For
after all our exultation on the advancing state of
female education, with the other sex will be found
the wealth of classical knowledge and profound
wisdom. If you have a parent, or older friend,
who will at the close of each day kindly listen to
what you have read, and help to fix in your
memory the portions most worthy of regard, count
it a privilege of no common value, and embrace
it with sincere gratitude.
Weekly societies, organized on the plan of re-
capitulation, render very important assistance to
those who are earnestly engaged in a course of
history. They should comprise but few mem-
bers, and those of somewhat congenial taste and
feeling, that no cause of restraint or reserve may
impede the free action of the mind. Three or four
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young ladies, with one or two older ones, will be
found an agreeable and profitable number. Let
the system pursued, and the authors studied, be a
subject of mutual arrangement; and at the stated
meeting let each condense the substance of what
she has read during the week, relate the principal
events, with their chronology, and as far as possible
mention what was taking place at the same period
of time in the annals of other nations. Opinions
dissenting from those of the historian should be
freely given, with the reasons of such variation,
and the discussions which arise will both serve to
fix knowledge firmly in the memory, and aid in
forming a correct judgment of the character and
deeds of those whom history has embalmed. If
to read each of the same era or people produces
monotony, the history of different nations may be
studied; or one can pursue a course of biography,
another of mental philosophy, the natural sciences,
or theology, and thus vary the mental banquet.
From this partnership in knowledge, great increase
of intellectual wealth ensues; and the subjects of
thought and conversation become perceptibly ele-
vated. “ The elevation of the mind,” says Burke,
rought to be the principal end of all our studies :
which if they do not in some measure effect, they
are of very little service to us."
Books, as a species of property, seem to be often
incorrectly estimated. They are borrowed and
injured without compunction, borrowed and not
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returned, and still the conscience is at rest. The
owner may sustain inconvenience by waiting, or
damage by loss, but the depredator is unmoved.
If a young lady borrows a shawl or an umbrella in
a shower, she returns them without injury; if she
takes the loan of a small sum from her friend's
purse, she repays it promptly. But a book from her
library she may be months in reading, or in not
reading ; may abuse and see abused, or perhaps not
restore at all, unless the owner take the trouble to
claim it. Are the treasures of genius less regarded
than the silkworm's web ? and is it dishonest to
steal a dollar, and honest to detain, deface, or
destroy a book worth twice that sum?
I have known a kind-hearted owner of books,
who prized literary property as it ought to be
prized, persist in lending to careless persons, who
continued tenaciously to retain possession, till at
length she would be forced to go and “gather to-
gether her dispersed, that were scattered abroad."
To collect and identify them was no slight labour;
but patiently would she search book-shelf, sofa, and
work-basket, and return loaded with her recovered
treasures, like a shepherd bringing stray sheep
from the wilderness.
I would have books treated with reverence. I
cannot bear to see even a child spoil the spelling-
book from which it has learned the alphabet. It
savours of ingratitude to a benefactor. Were the
books of children composed of better materials,
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.
and executed in a more tasteful style, the habit of
preserving them would doubtless be earlier and
more faithfully inculcated. A sort of sacredness
seems to attach itself even to the page on which
knowledge has impressed its lineaments, and the
cover which protects it from defilement and from
the atmosphere. “Every child," says Dr. Dwight,
in his Theology, "should be taught to pay all his
debts, and to fulfil all his contracts, exactly in the
manner, completely in the value, punctually at
the time. Every thing which he has borrowed,
he should be obliged to return, uninjured, at the
time specified ; and every thing belonging to others
which he has lost, he should be required to re-
place." Would that this excellent principle were
incorporated with the basis of female education!
And now, dear young ladies, let me release you
from this long dissertation upon books, after I have
commended them to your intimacy as friends,
safe, accessible, instructive, never encroaching, and
never offended at the neglect of any point of eti-
quette. Can this be said of all your associates ?
When intercourse with the living becomes irk-
some, or insipid, summon to your side the de-
parted spirits of the mighty dead. Would you think
it an honour to be introduced into the presence of
princes and prelates, or to listen to the voice of
Plato or Socrates ? Close the door of your read-
ing-room, and they congregate around you. Yea,
a Greater than Socrates will be there, if you
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16
ponder his words, with an humble and teachable
soul. If trifles have disturbed you during the day,
sages will admonish you of the serenity and dignity
which ought to characterise the immortal mind.
Has ambition deluded you? the fallen monarch
will show you the vanity of adulation, and the hol-
lowness of all human glory. Are you out of spirits ?
the melody of the poet shall soothe you, and do
for you what the harp of David did for the moodi-
ness of Saul. Has friendship grieved you? They
offer you consolation, on whose virtues Death has
stamped the seal, never to change. Make friend-
ship with the illustrious dead. Your slightest wish,
as a talisman, will gather from distant climes, and
remote ages, those who can satisfy the thirst of
mind from the deepest fountains of knowledge.
One volume there is, whose spirit can heal the
wounded heart. When it sorrows for its own in-
firmities, or for the unsatisfying nature of earth's
vaunted pleasures, the voice of prophets and
apostles, lifted up from its inspired pages, teaches
the way to that world “where is fulness of joy,
and pleasures for evermore."
Let me close in the eloquent words of the author
of “Lectures to Young Men." “ This book, the
eldest surviving offspring of the human intellect,
the chosen companion of patriarcis, prophets,
apostles, and of all the wisest and best men who
have ever lived; this book, that reveals to us the
character and will of our great Creator, and final
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Judge; that opens for us the way of salvation
through a Redeemer; unveils to our view the in-
visible world, and shows us the final destiny of
our race; this book, which God has given, ex-
pressly to teach us our character, our duty, and
our prospects, which has conducted to heaven all
who have reached that happy world, and mus
conduct us thither, if ever we attain to its blessed-
ness; this book ought surely to be held by us in
the highest place of respect and honour, to be made
the guide of our youth, the companion of our age,
our solace and support in all the prosperous or
trying passages of life.”
LETTER X.
FRIENDSHIP.
So sweet is the idea of friendship, that its name
is one of the earliest upon our lips, and the latest
to linger there. The child, in its migration from
nursery to school, selects a favourite playmate, and
in bestowing its simple gifts and caresses, nurses
the latent capacities of friendship. “ This is my
friend,” says the young lady, who, during the
progress of her education, presents ardently and
proudly to her parents what she conceives to be a
kindred spirit. “My friends are gone," mourn-
fully exclaims the hoary man, while the conscious-
ness that he must “finish his journey alone,” deep-
ens the acquiescence with which he lies down in
the grave.
But the name of friendship is more common than
the reality. Many who are familiar with its terms,
have never fathomed its depth, or tasted its purity.
They may have learned to eulogize the “unrusting
gold" without the power to acquire or to retain it.
In this respect, as well as in a far higher sense,
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FRIENDSHIP.
“not every one that saith, Lord, Lord, shall enter
into the kingdom.”
A rare combination of virtues is requisite to
friendship. A generous, disinterested, affectionate
spirit, elevation of character, and firmness of prin-
ciple, are among its essential elements. It is no
wonder that the plant is not of more frequent
growth.
I hope that each one for whom I write, may be
capable of a deep and enduring friendship for one
of her own sex. I do not, of course, refer to that
gregarious principle, which prompts to promis-
cuous associations, or multiplies hasty and change-
ful intimacies. This is sufficiently prominent in
the susceptible season of youth, and sometimes
leads to errors which it is difficult to rectify.
The qualities that constitute a good friend reflect
lustre on human nature. It was numbered among
the excellences of the Rev. Charles Wesley, that
he was formed for friendship. “ His cheerfulness
and vivacity ever refreshed the heart of his friend:
with attentive consideration he would enter into
and settle all his concerns, as far as he was able-
would do any thing for his good, either great or
small-and by a habit of openness and freedom,
leave no room for misunderstanding." Whenever
these lineaments of character are brought into re-
ciprocal action, they produce that high and hallowed
intercourse, which makes mutual dependence a
blessing. The friendship, which I hope each of
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you may be able to attain and exemplify, comprises
sympathy in sorrow, counsel in doubt, encourage-
ment in virtue,—that blending of the strength of
two spirits which nothing but death can part, and
which, cemented by piety, looks to a consummation
in that purer clime, where “ affection's cup hath
lost the taste of tears."
If you seek permanent friendship, look to the
basis on which it is erected. The first native
material for the hand of the architect seems to be
congeniality of taste, pursuit, or principle. That
opinions should always harmonize, is not necessary.
This would fetter originality of thought, and abridge
freedom of intercourse. It would involve too fre-
quent sacrifices of the prerogative of judgment,
and affect independence of sentiment. Still that
degree of similarity in mental structure is desir-
able, which prevents frequent discords, and does
not leave the feelings in opposite zones.
Friendships founded in fondness for fashionable
amusements must be fluctuating. Their texture
is like the wing of the butterfly. They are in-
capable of forming a chain for the heart. Those
intimacies which spring up from community in
prejudice, are perverted at the root, and will
scarcely be more stable than the passions or en-
mities which gave them birth. Partaking of an
unwholesome nutriment, their fruits will be bitter,
and their influence on the heart baleful." The
friendships of youth," said a severe moralist, "are
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FRIENDSHIP.
but too often combinations for vice, or leagues in
pleasure.” We hope the word often is misapplied:
at least, the name of friendship ought not to be
coupled with such definitions.
Reciprocity of intellectual taste gives a genial
soil for friendship. Hence, it so frequently takes
root during the progress of education. The fruits
of knowledge are easily engrafted upon so generous
a stock. The interwoven tendrils and buddings
of genius, communicate a strength and fragrance
peculiar to themselves. “That perfect unity of
feeling," says D’Israeli, “which makes of two
individuals one being, was well displayed in the
memorable friendship of Beaumont and Fletcher,
whose labours were so combined that no critic can
detect the mingled production of either, and
whose lives were so closely united, that no biogra-
pher can compose the memoirs of one, without
running into those of the other.”
Love of literature is an affinity of no common
fervour, and if undisturbed by competition, ripens
into a peculiar and almost ethereal tenderness.
The friendship of Petrarch and Boccacio had this
basis. When the former passed through Florence,
in 1350, he was full of curiosity to see the man,
whose premature powers had excited the astonish-
ment of Italy, and who at seven years old, ere he
was capable of defining poetry, had composed it.
But he found him engaged in trifling and desultory
efforts, unworthy of his genius. Petrarch, then at
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153
the height of his reputation, having received the
crown, and that enthusiastic idolatry with which
his countrymen fostered literary ambition, con-
ceived a friendship, both honourable to himself and
beneficial to its object. Its first effort was like
that of Socrates for Alcibiades. By decided ad-
monitions, he roused him to more severe labours
and exalted pursuits. Boccacio, yielding to this
influence, awoke as to a new being. By applica-
tion, hesought for some portion of that learning,
and classic elegance of style, which distinguished
his disinterested adviser. Starting forth from in-
dolent repose, he became active for the welfare of
his country, he took part in the various embassies,
he laboured to promote the happiness of the people,
to diminish the prevalent errors of the great, and
to advance the diffusion of knowledge.
Petrarch rejoiced in the quickening and almost
transforming power of his friendship. Its first
office had been to elevate character. Its second
was equally ennobling—to sustain under poverty
and obloquy; for both of these came upon Boc-
cacio. In toils for the public good he had
expended his fortune, and the jealousy of little
minds followed him with its scorpion lash. At one
period, every friend forsook him. Petrarch alone
remained immovable. “Come to me,” he said ;
“my purse and my home, like my heart, are
yours." But the delicacy of Boccacio shrank
from dependence, even upon the most generous of
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friends. Retiring to his little cottage in Certaldo;
he wished to bury himself in hermit contempla-
tions. Thither disease followed him, so that to
read, to write, or to think, became a burden. But
the remembrance of the friendship of Petrarch was
a balm, when the essence of life seemed exhaling.
The slow lapse of years brought him health. By
the urgency of the Florentines, he was again in-
duced to assume the duties of a professorship.
There he lectured for a year, with his accustomed
eloquence. Then, tidings of the death of Petrarch
fell like a blight upon him. The only being who
had inspirited him to excellence was gone. The
last link of a most generous friendship was broken.
He had not vigour to sustain the shock. Hence-
forth, the world to him was a desert. Bereaved
sensibilities fed on the springs of life, and he soon
followed to the grave the only friend whose affection
had never swerved.
Similar, though still more tragic was the grief
of the poet and historian, Politiano, for the loss of
his illustrious friend Lorenzo de Medici. After
the decease of his patron his genius drooped and
his literary ambition languished. The image of
him who had fostered his talents and listened with
delight to his verses, seemed present with him but
to deepen his melancholy. The misfortunes that
befel the Medicean family he deplored as his own.
It was in 1494, while fitting some elegiac stanzas
which he had composed on the memory of his
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FRIENDSHIP.
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beloved friend Lorenzo, to the harp, that his eyes,
dim with tears, deceived him, and falling from the
head of a flight of stairs, he expired.
There is a sentiment of friendship for the illus-
trious dead to which refined minds are susceptible.
Towards those whose pages have imparted to us
knowledge and delight, we turn in moments of
solitude with sacred and tender regard. We almost
imagine them to be standing by our side, and
hearkening to our gratitude. They have left us
an inalienable bequest, a “ treasure that waxeth
not old." We commune with them as benefactors,
we rejoice in the “sad but exalting relationship to
the great minds that have passed away, and explore
an unbounded range of noble scenes in the over-
awing company of departed genius and wisdom."
The highest sentiments and noblest pursuits of
our nature should be invoked to give permanence
to friendship. “ It is an error," says an ingenious
philosopher of our times, “to found attachment
on the lower faculties, which are unstable, instead
of building it on those higher sentiments which
afford a foundation for real, lasting, and satisfac-
tory friendships. In complaining of the vanity
and vexation of intimacies springing exclusively
from the lower faculties, we are like men who
should try to build a pyramid on its smaller end,
and lament the hardness of fate and the unkind-
ness of Providence when it fell.”
Reciprocity of religious feeling and principle is
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i
the best groundwork for enduring friendship.
“ There is no true friendship," said St. Augustine,
“ but that which God cements.” Piety and friend-
ship enjoin congenial duties. One enforces the
extirpation of selfishness, the other requires the
exercise of the disinterested virtues. One de-
mands the charity which seeketh not its own,
and thinketh no evil;" the other prompts that
sweet preference of another's good which is allied
alike to benevolence and humility.
The inimitable portrait of friendship given us in
the pages of inspiration, illustrates with great
power the principles of generosity and gratitude.
Jonathan, the heir to the throne of Israel, and
taught to connect all his high hopes and prospects
with so precious a birthright, sees in his friend the
person designated to supplant him in that royal
dignity. The watchful eye and jealous mind of
Saul is ever deepening the suggestion : “As long
as the son of Jesse liveth upon the earth, thou
shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom." But
the friendship which had knit the prince to the
shepherd-boy, “so that he loved him as his own
soul,” resists every temptation. He repels the
vengeful policy of his father, relinquishes his own
aggrandizement, and puts his life in peril for his
friend.
David, precluded by his situation from displaying
equal magnanimity, evinces a gratitude which
dwells only with noble natures, and is the test of
het,
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FRIENDSHIP.
157
what their generosity would have been, had Heaven
given them the power of conferring benefits. His
elegy on his fallen friend breathes the very spirit
of tenderness and sorrow. One of his first in-
quiries after his elevation to the throne, when the
wars and tumults through which) he had long
struggled began to subside into tranquillity, reveals
the cherished warmth of grateful friendship : “Is
there any yet left of the house of Saul, that I may
show him kindness for Jonathan's sake ?"
How affecting is his tenderness to the desolate
and decrepit son of his lost friend, whom he sought
out in obscurity and want! “Fear not, I will surely
show thee kindness for Jonathan thy father's sake."
His imperishable gratitude embraces even the
memory of Saul, his mortal enemy, by whom he
had been “hunted as a partridge on the moun-
tains." He remembered only that he was the
father of his friend. With what reverence does
he speak of that unhappy monarch, and how affec-
tionately does he return thanks to those who ren-
dered him the rites of sepulture: “Blessed be ye,
that ye have showed this kindness unto your lord,
and have buried him, and now the Lord show kind-
ness and truth unto you, and I also will requite
you because ye have done this thing."
It would seem that the simplicity of ancient
times was more favourable than our own, to the
developments of self-devoted friendship. The
history of remote ages records instances which
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have no modern parallel. To hazard fortune,
safety, or even life for a friend, was held con-
sistent with the obligations of that sacred pre-
ference. Now it scarcely evinces sufficient courage
to defend the chosen individual against the asper-
sions of envy, or the shafts of satire. In searching
for the reasons of this difference, we perceive that
the artificial structure of society has changed the
requisitions of friendship, and checked its vitality.
Promiscuous association is adverse to its health-
ful growth. Its essence requires concentration.
If diffused over too wide a surface, its excellence
escapes. Formal and ceremonious visiting, to the
exclusion of that simple intercourse which opens
the heart, is fatal to its welfare. Studied courte-
sies, in which truth has little part, bewilder and
destroy it. She who invites her “dear five hun-
dred friends," and lavishes much time and expense
on the entertainment, probably loves not one of
them in her heart.
Kindness, benevolence, and good manners, are
due to all with whom we associate; but the in-
timacy which leads to entire confidence should be
bestowed on few, or reserved for one alone. Hence
the choice of that single friend, becomes a point of
incalculable importance.
Friendship has been always a favourite theme
with the poets. Among English bards, none have
more minutely analyzed it than Dr. Young. Per-
mit me here to inquire if his “ Night Thoughts"
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159
have not become too entirely and unjustly obsolete,
and if many a young lady might not find in them
some profitable hint for serious contemplation.
Hear him on our chosen theme :
“Deliberate on all things with thy friend ;
But since friends grow not thick on every bough,
First on thy friend deliberate with thyself.
Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice,
Nor jealous of the chosen; fixing, fix :
Judge before friendship, then confide till death."
The tendency of the younger part of our sex to
form friendships has been ridiculed as a weakness
by some severe critics. I consider it rather as a
virtue, as an indication of amiable susceptibility,
and a disposition to acknowledge that mutual de-
pendence which is the law of our nature. Still it
requires more judgment than usually falls to the
lot of youth to guard it from the disappointment
which accompanies hasty preferences, and the
danger which attends promiscuous and inconstant
intimacies. Correct principles, kind feelings, good
sense and incorruptible integrity, are the natural
and safe corner-stones for the temple of friendship.
That there should be no great dissimilarity in
rank, station, or education, seems desirable. Where
striking disparities exist, the union of sentiment
cannot be perfect, and loss of confidence must often
ensue.
If you have been so happy as to find a friend
with whom your pursuits and pleasures may be
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shared, whose sympathy awaits your sorrows, who
gives strength to your good resolutions, and with
whom your secret thoughts are as safe as in your
own bosom, guard the precious treasure by every
demonstration of warm and invariable regard. You
have found what the wise son of Sirach styles the
“medicine of life.” Be grateful to the Giver of
all good, and be faithful to the duties that such a
privilege implies. Since friendship is a blessing
from heaven, consecrate it as the means of mutual
preparation for admission there.
Merit confidence by frankness; guard with fide-
lity whatever secret may be entrusted to you.“ Re-
serve wounds friendship, and distrust destroys."
Point out mutual faults and imperfections, in the
spirit of tenderness, and with a view to improve-
ment and elevation of character. Avoid that
tendency to fickleness and alienation for slight
causes, which has perplexed so many friendships.
Cherish with unvarying regard the friends who
have proved themselves faithful ; and adopting the
precept of Hamlet,
“Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.”
Possess yourselves of the elements of a science
more sublime than love, because less selfish, which
is in grief a comforter, in difficult duty a double
strength; which has power to heighten joy, to en-
noble all good properties, and to fit for the inter-
course with pure spirits in a happier clime.
"
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Remember the fine example of Klopstock, whose
confiding simplicity of character so prepared him
to awaken regard, that, even to the chill atmo-
sphere of fourscore years, he was surrounded by
tender and warmly expressed sympathies; and of
whom it was beautifully said, that “all his life he
clung to friendship, as the child clings to the
breast of its mother.”
LETTER XI.
CHEERFULNESS.
1
Among the ingredients of happiness, few are
more important than the spirit of cheerfulness.
Its lineaments are always beautiful. They have
a tendency to reproduce themselves. The calm
smile often images itself on the brow of another,
and the sweet tone, if it call not forth an answering
one equally sweet, still soothes the ear and lulls the
soul with its melody. A melancholy countenance
and a plaintive voice are contagious. “I have
always," said the good vicar of Wakefield, “been
an admirer of happy human faces.” The sentiment
is universal. The pleasure thus derived compen-
sates for the absence of beauty, and supplies the
deficiency of symmetry and grace.
Cheerfulness is expected from the young. It is
the natural temperament of life's brightest season.
We are disappointed when we see a frown or
gloom upon those features which we persuade
ouiselves should be ever cloudless. It is as if in
gathering spring's early violets, we found them
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CHEERFULNESS.
163
divested of fragrance. The open clear glance, the
unsuspicious aspect, the smile hovering around the
lips of the gentle speaker, and interpreting more
perfectly than words, the harmony that dwells
within, are inexpressibly cheering to those whom
care has depressed, or age furrowed, or suffering
taught distrust.
The young, in cultivating those habits which
promote cheerfulness, should remember that they
are meeting the just demands of the community,
paying an appropriate rent for their lodge among
the flowers. That the happiness of others may
be thus promoted should be a strong motive to
study those rules on which so valuable a science
depends.
A cheerful demeanour is particularly expected
of young ladies. In their case its absence is an
especial fault. For if among woman's household
duties it is numbered that she make others happy,
and if, in order to do this successfully, she must
in some degree be happy herself, cheerfulness
should be early confirmed into habit, and deeply
founded in principle.
A contented and grateful disposition is one of
the elements of cheerfulness. Keeping our more
minute blessings steadily in view, will be found a
salutary exercise. Little kindnesses from those
around us should be reciprocated, and returned in
the spirit of kindness. Forgetfulness of favours
should be guarded against as an inroad upon justice,
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CHEERFULNESS.
and an indication of selfishness and ingratitude.
Recognition of the daily gifts of our unwearied
Benefactor promotes happiness and peace of mind.
It is often difficult correctly to prize what we con-
tinually enjoy. The aid of contrast, or the fear of
loss, seems necessary to teach us the richness of
those blessings which we fancy are our own by
prescriptive right. The pure water, which from
its very abundance we cease to value, would be
fully appreciated by the traveller parching amid
Arabian deserts. The healthful air which invi-
gorates every nerve, and for which we fail to thank
God, would be hailed by the suffering inmates of
some crowded hospital, or the pale prisoner in his
loathsome dungeon.
By remembering those whom disease has im-
movably chained, or whose eye and ear, light and
sound have forsaken, we more strongly feel the
luxury of motion, and the worth of those senses
by which communion is held with nature and with
mind. The mansion that affords us shelter, the
food that sustains us, and with whose reception
the beneficent Creator has connected satisfaction,
the apparel fashioned to the comfort of the ever-
varying seasons, remind many tender hearts of the
children of poverty, quickening liberality to them,
and love to the Father of all. The history of
despotic governments, of the horrors of war, of the
miseries of ignorance and heathenism, should aid
in impressing a sense of our own great indebted-
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CHEERFULNESS.
165
ness, and in shedding over the face and demeanour
the clear sunshine of cheerful gratitude. As it is
impossible to recount but a small portion of those
mercies which are “new every morning and fresh
every moment,” our whole existence should be
pervaded by the spirit which moved the pious poet
to exclaim-
“Almighty Friend, henceforth to Thee
A hymn of praise my life shall be."
The habit of discovering good qualities in others,
is a source of diffusible happiness. Though a
knowledge of human nature teaches that the best
characters have a mixture of infirmity, it still
admits that in the worst there exist some re-
deeming virtues. The telescope that reveals the
brightness of opaque and remote planets, is more
valuable than the microscope that detects motes in
the sunbeam, and insects feeding upon the rose's
heart. A disposition to dwell on the bright side
of character is like gold to its possessor. Among
the principal ingredients in the happiness of child-
hood, are freedom from suspicion, and kind and
loving thoughts toward all. Why might not those
sweet feelings consist with a deeper knowledge of
mankind? A habit of searching out the faults of
others, like that of complaining of the inconve-
niences of our lot, grows with indulgence, and is
calculated both to increase evil, and to perpetuate
its remembrance.
.:
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CHEERFULNESS.
..
A tendency to slander destroys innocent cheer-
fulness, and marks even the countenance with
malevolence. The satisfaction which it brings is
morbid, and betokens internal disease. To imagine
more evil than meets the eye, betrays affinity for
it; and to delight to deepen that which forces itself
on our observation, marks a fearful degree of moral
disease, and contributes to disseminate it. But to
“ distil out that soul of goodness which is contained
in things evil,” is a chemistry worthy of those
guardian spirits who heighten the joy of heaven
when “one sinner repenteth.” Strive, therefore,
as a means of cheerful and happy thought, to pal-
liate rather than to condemn frailty, and so to
make visible the good qualities of those with whom
you associate, that the mind, dwelling in an atmo-
sphere of brightness, may shed on those around a
reflection of its own joy: a faint semblance of that
beam which the prophet bore on his face when he
descended from his mountain-converse with the
All-Perfect.
Cheerfulness is promoted by a consciousness of
being usefully employed. Active industry is fa-
vourable to health and elasticity of spirits. The
assurance that our daily pursuits advance the com-
fort or improvement of others, is a balsam to the
heart. That our time, talents, and influence, are
devoted to their highest and best ends, is an assu-
rance of inestimable value. It would seem that
those engaged in the different departments of edu-
CHEERFULNESS.
167
2
cation should therefore evince a sustaining princi-
ple of cheerfulness. To advance the intellectual
and moral benefit of others is a blessed mission,
and should “wear its precious jewel in its head.”
Instructers of youth, by cultivating a dignified
cheerfulness, will extend and deepen their influ-
ence. If every young lady should make it her
object to impart to all those younger or less fa-
voured than herself, who come in contact with her,
some portion of the accomplishments, the know-
ledge, or the piety, that she possesses, the sweet
consciousness of not living in vain, would irradiate
her countenance and manners with the charm of
benevolence.
Endeavour to preserve cheerfulness of deport-
ment, even under the pressure of disappointment
or calamity. “Keep aloof from sadness," says an
Icelandic writer of the twelfth century, " for sad-
ness is a sickness of the soul.” That principle is
weak at the root, which is unable to resist obsta-
cles. The vessel is but ill-constructed, that cannot
retain its integrity against rough winds or an op-
posing tide. Life has many ills; but the mind that
views every object in its most cheering aspect, and
every doubtful dispensation as replete with latent
good, bears within itself a powerful and perpetual
antidote. The gloomy soul aggravates misfortune,
while a cheerful smile often dispels the cloud, or
brightens the storm. “Our happiness," says a fine
writer, "is a sacred deposit, for which we must
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CHEERFULNESS.
s
give account." A serene and amiable temper is
among its most efficient preservatives. Admiral
Collingwood, in a letter to his daughters, says,
“I never knew your mother to utter a harsh or
hasty thing to any person in my life.” Of Arch-
bishop Leighton, it is related, by one qualified to
judge, that“ during a strict intimacy of many years,
he never saw him for one moment in any other
temper than that in which he would wish to live and
to die." Though some may, with more ease than
others, attain equanimity of character, yet the
cheerfulness that surmounts care, and remains un-
changed, amid adverse circumstances, must be the
result of cultivated principle, of persevering effort,
and the solicited succour of the grace of God.
A good conscience is essential to consistent
cheerfulness. “Were thy conscience pure," says
the excellent Thomas à Kempis, “thou wouldest
be contented in every condition. Thou wouldest be
undisturbed by the opinions and reports of men
concerning thee ;-for their commendations can add
nothing to thy goodness, nor their censures take
away from it;--what thou art, thou art nor can
the praise of the whole world make thee happier
or greater in the sight of God. Thou wilt enjoy
tranquillity, if thy heart condemn thee not. There-
fore, do not hope to rejoice, but when thou hast
done well.” A decided preference of the right,
though the wrong may be rendered more alluring,
and the conviction of having intended to do well,
CHEERFULNESS.
169
are necessary to self-approval. Success, and the
applause of others, may not always bear proportion
to the motives that actuate us. We may be some-
times blamed when our designs are pure, or praised
when we are not conscious of deserving it. Such
results must indeed often happen; since this is a
state of probation, not of reward. The true record
must be kept within. Its appeal is to a tribunal
that cannot err. The waiting, trusting spirit,
should surely be cheerful. It is a weak faith that
cannot look above mistake and misconstruction, up
to the clear shining of the Sun of Righteousness.
It is but a decrepit cheerfulness that can walk
abroad only when the breeze is soft, and the path
verdant.
We are instructed to believe that praise is the
spirit of heaven. Cheerfulness, and giving of thanks,
ought therefore to be cultivated by all who have a
hope of dwelling there. If we were to take up our
residence with distant friends, we would wish to
acquire some knowledge of their tastes, that we
might so accommodate our own, as to become a con-
genial inmate. If we were to sojourn in a foreign
country, we would not neglect the study of its
language, or the means of intercourse with its
inhabitants. If the spirit of a clime, where we hope
to dwell eternally, is revealed to us, shall we be
indifferent to its acquisition? Shall we not fashion
the lineaments of our character after its bright and
glorious pattern ? that if we are so happy as to
f
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CHEERFULNESS.
obtain entrance therein, its blissful inhabitants
may not be to us as strangers, nor their work a
burden; but we, by the lessons of earth, be fitted to
become “fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the
household of God."
LETTER XII.
CONVERSATION.
So great a part of our time is devoted to con-
versation, and so much has it the power to in-
fluence the social feelings and relative duties, that
it is important to consider how it may be rendered
both agreeable and useful. In all countries where
intelligence is prized, a talent for conversation
ranks high among accomplishments. To clothe
the thoughts in clear and elegant language, and to
convey them impressively to the mind of another,
is no common attainment.
Conversation to be interesting, should be sus.
tained with animation. Warmth of heart must
put in motion the wheels of intellect. The finest
sentiments lose their force if uttered with lassi-
tude and indifference. Still the most fluent
speakers are not always the most agreeable.
Rapidity of enunciation should be avoided. It
perplexes minds of slow comprehension, and con-
fuses those which are inured to sedentary habits.
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CONVERSATION.
1
It sometimes proceeds from quickness of percep-
tion, and is sometimes an affectation of spright-
liness, but will usually be found to produce fatigue
rather than afford pleasure.
A proneness to interrupt others, is still more
offensive than excessive volubility. It can scarcely
be atoned for, by any brilliance of sentiment or
language. It is an infraction of the principle of
mutual exchange on which conversation depends.
The word conveys an idea if not of equal rights,
at least of some degree of reciprocity in the privi-
lege of receiving and imparting thought. Even
those who most admire the fluency of an exclusive
speaker will condemn the injustice of the mono-
poly. They will imagine that they themselves
might have uttered a few good things, had they
been allowed an opportunity. Perhaps some ap-
propriate remark arose to their lips, but the proper
time for uttering it was snatched away. It is pos-
sible that regret for one's own lost sayings may
diminish the effect of even a flood of eloquence;
so that piqued self-love will be apt to overpower
admiration, and the elegant and indefatigable
talker be shunned, except by a few who are silent
from dulness, or patient listeners from principle.
The encounter of a number of these earnest and
fierce speakers, the clamour, the tireless competi-
tion, the impossibility of rescuing thought from
the confusion of tongues, the utter frustration of
the legitimate design of discourse, to be understood
CONVERSATION.
173
.
WILL
would be ludicrous, were it not oppressive to the
nerves, and subversive of good taste and decorum.
Fluency in conversation must not be assumed as
a test of talent. Genius and wisdom are often
found deficient in its graces. Adam Smith ever
retained in company the embarrassed manners of
a student. Neither Buffon, nor Rousseau, carried
their eloquence into society. The silence of the poet
Chaucer was held more desirable than his speech.
The conversation of Goldsmith did not evince the
grace and tenderness that characterize his compo-
sitions. Thomson was diffident and often unin-
teresting. Dante was taciturn, and all the brilliance
of Tasso flowed from his pen. Descartes seemed
formed for solitude. Cowley was a quiet observer;
and the spirited Dryden acknowledged that his own
" conversation was slow and dull, and his humour
reserved.” Hogarth and Swift were absent-minded,
and the studious Thomas Baker pronounced him-
self “fit for no communion, save with the dead."
Washington, Hamilton, and Franklin, were deficient
in that fluency which fascinates a promiscuous
circle.
The list might easily be enlarged, but enough
instances have been adduced to console those who
happen not to excel in this accomplishment, and
to assure them, that if sometimes constrained to be
silent, they are at least kept in countenance by a
goodly company.
As Pythagoras imposed on those who would be
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CONVERSATION.
initiated into his philosophy a long term of silence,
so they who would acquire the art of conversation
should first learn to listen. To do this with an
appearance of unwearied attention, and as far as
possible with an expression of interested feeling
on the countenance, is a species of amiable polite-
ness to which all are susceptible. It is peculiarly
soothing to men of eminent attainments or refined
sensibility, and is a kind of delicate deference
which the young are bound to pay to their supe-
riors in age.
Another mode of imparting pleasure in conver-
sation, is to lead others to such subjects as are
most congenial to their taste, or on which they
possess the most extensive information. From
this will arise a double benefit. They will be sa-
tisfied, and you will reap the fruits of their know-
ledge. This was one of the modifications of
benevolence practised by the late Dr. Dwight,
himself one of the most accomplished and eloquent
men in conversation whom our country or any other
country has ever produced. That you may observe
this rule with regularity, do not permit yourself to
look coldly on the attainments of those whom
education has less favoured than yourself. Among
them you will often discover strong common sense,
an acquaintance with practical things, and a sound
judgment of the “plain intent of life,” in which
minds of greater refinement may be deficient.
This meek search after knowledge from the hum-
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blest sources, is graceful in the young; and the
virtuous,' however laborious may be their lot, or
obscure their station, are deserving of such respect,
and made happier by it.
The late Dr. Rush, was pronounced by a gen-
tleman highly endued with cultivated taste and
knowledge of human nature, “one of the most
interesting men in conversation; his art of pleasing
consisted in making others pleased with themselves.
He never descended to flattery. His compliments
came rather from an approving eye and manner,
than from his lips. His ready tact seemed in-
stinctively to discover the subjects on which you
were best qualified to converse. To these sub-
jects he would adroitly and pleasantly lead the
way; then, as if by magic, you would find your-
self at home in his presence, moving freely and
with exhilarated spirits in your own native ele-
ment; and when you left him, you could not fail
to add, to other valuable acquisitions made through
him, an increased fund of self-respect."
Those who would please others, should never
talk for display. The vanity of shining in conver-
sation is usually subversive of its own desires.
However your qualifications may transcend those
of the persons who surround you, it is both unwise
and unkind to obtrude them upon their notice, or
betray disregard of their opinions. It is never
politic to humble those whom you seek to con-
ciliate. It is a good rule not to speak much of
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yourself or your own concerns, unless in the presence
of friends who prompt such subjects, or whose
advice you are anxious to obtain. It was among
the amiable traits in the character of Sir Walter
Scott, never voluntarily to allude to those splendid
productions of his genius which were winning the
wonder and applause of every clime. There is a
politeness, almost allied to piety, in putting out of
view our own claims to distinction, and bringing
forward the excellences of others.
Perhaps the great secret of pleasing in conver-
sation, is to make others pleased with themselves.
Any superiority, therefore, which we may chance
to possess, should be laid aside, as if entirely for-
gotten. “I never allude to my own works," said
Corneille, “but amuse my companions about such
matters as they like to hear. My talent consists
not in making them feel that I have any, but in
showing them that they have." How much more
amiable is such a course than that perpetual effort
to dazzle, which encumbers society with levity,
weariness, and disappointed vanity!
But in studying to render conversation agree-
able, let us not forget that it should have a higher
object than merely the art of pleasing. It was a
noble rule of the celebrated Cotton Mather, “never
to enter any company, where it was proper for him
to speak, without endeavouring to be useful in it."
Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, who eminently possessed the
talent of conversation, and so united it with an
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amiable disposition, that it was said of her she was
never known to have uttered an unkind or ill-
natured remark, made it the means of moral im-
provement to others, by commending in their
presence persons distinguished by the particular
virtue which she felt it desirable to press on their
imitation. Thus she often led to the establish-
ment of good habits, and by her eloquence re-
formed and elevated the characters of those around
her.
Avoid exaggeration in discourse. Those of lively
imaginations are very prone to this fault. When
the addition of a few circumstances, or the colour-
ing of a single speech, would exceedingly embellish
a narrative, their veracity is not proof against the
temptation.
Spare to use the language of flattery. Truth
seems to abandon the guidance of those young
persons, who indulge much in its dialect. Every
habit of hyperbolical expression, impairs con-
fidence. Obtain an accurate knowledge of the
import of words, and of the different shades of
those reputed synonymous. Much carelessnes
and superfluous verbiage, as well as many sad mis:
takorin conversation, would be prevented by a habit
of strict definition of terms, and a precise adaptation
of them to the facts stated, or the sentiments con-
veyed. The study of etymology might not only
be brought into daily practical use by ladies, but
be rendered a moral benefit. Yet in these days of
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17h
high intellectual cultivation, in which females so
liberally partake, the sacrifice of veracity in com-
mon discourse, cannot be resolved into ignorance
of the import of language, so correctly as into the
desire of shining, or making amusement at the ex-
pense of higher things. “It is very difficult," says
the excellent Mrs. Hannah More, " for persons of
great liveliness to restrain themselves within the
sober limits of strict veracity either in their asser-
tions or narrations, especially when a little undue
indulgence of fancy is apt to secure for them the
praise of genius and spirit ; and this restraint is
one of the earliest principles which should be
worked into a youthful mind." Without sincerity
the intercourse of the lips will be but “as sounding
brass or a tinkling cymbal ;" and dear indeed must
be that reputation for wit which is purchased by
the forfeiture of integrity.
You are doubtless aware that our sex have been
accused of a tendency to remark with severity
upon the foibles of character. It has been gravely
asserted that we were prone to evil-speaking. Is
it so? Let us candidly canvass the point. We
may have temptations to this vice, peculiar to our-
selves. We have more leisure for conversation
than men. Our range of subjects is more limited.
The multifarious pursuits of business and politics,
or the labours of scientific and professional studies,
engross their thoughts, and necessarily lead them
to more elevated and expansive channels. Women,
..
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1.
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7
WH
acting in a narrower sphere, examine, with extreme
ardour, whatever falls under their observation, or
enters into competition with them. When em-
ployments weary, or amusements fail, character is
but a too convenient and a favourite field in which
to expatiate. By nature they are gifted with a
facility for reading its idioms. But if they indulge
themselves in searching out only its weaknesses,
if they form a taste for hunting down its deformities,
and feeding like the hyena upon its fleshless, life-
less carcase, are they not in danger of perverting
the tides of benevolent feeling, and of tinging the
fountains of the heart with bitterness ?
It is very difficult to ascertain whether the faults
of others are presented to us without exaggeration.
So little do human beings understand the motives
of their fellows, that actions may be blamed by
men, which the recording angel exults as he writes
in the pure record of Heaven,
Yet, if we are sure that those whom we hear
censured are really as guilty as they are repre.
sented, is not the call on us rather for pity than
for punishment? Is it not to be inferred that the
community will take care to visit the error with
its full penalty, and that it may be safe for us to
withhold our smiting when so many scourges are
uplifted ? Perhaps even the measure of Jewish
infliction, “thirty stripes save one," may be tran-
scended, if we add our stroke.
Surely, no class of our fellow-creatures are
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CONVERSATION.
more in need of pity, than those who have fallen
into error, and are suffering its consequences.
“ Consider," says the excellent Caroline Fry, "the
dangers, the sorrows, that lie in the path of all to
their eternal home--the secret pangs, the untold
agonies, the hidden wrongs. Thus the heart will
grow soft with pity towards our kind. How can
I tell what that censured person suffers ? That
fault will cost dear enough without my aid. So
you will fear, by a harsh word, to add to that
which is too much already, as you would shrink
from putting your finger into a fresh wound.”.
From the danger of evil-speaking, there is for
you, my dear young friends, many sources of pro-
tection. Education has provided you with a shield
against this danger. The wide circle of the
sciences, the whole range of literature, the bound-
less world of books, open for you sources of con-
versation, as innumerable as they are sublime.
You have no need to dissect character. You have
no excuse for confining your attention to the frail-
ties of your associates. What is it to you who
wears an ill-assorted riband, or a tasteless garment,
or who takes the lead in fashion, to you who can
solve at ease the problems of Euclid, and walk
with Newton among the stars? What a paucity
of judgment, what a perversion of intellect does it
discover, to cast away the treasures of education,
and place yourself on a level with the neediest
mind. It is like parting with your birth-right,
CONVERSATION.
181
and not receiving even the poor payment of a
“mess of pottage." If there has ever been just
cause for this serious charge of a love of calumny
upon our whole sex, it behoves the young females
of the present generation to arise and wipe it away.
In those places, where danger has been discovered
to exist, apply the remedy. Avoid as far as pos-
sible all personal conversation. But when charac-
ter is necessarily the subject of discussion, show
yourselves the gentle excusers of error, and the
advocates of all who need defence. It was once
my happiness to associate with some young people
who were in love with goodness, and in fear lest
the habit of evil-speaking might unawares gain
victory over them. They said: “We will form
ourselves into a society against detraction. If we
asperse any person, or if we neglect to defend the
absent when they are defamed, we will pay a fine,
to be appropriated to the relief of the poor.” Truly
the purse for the poor flourished, and so did the
virtues of those lovely and kind-hearted beings.
The mother of one of them inquired--for she had
not heard of the existence of such a society "What
is the reason that C. never joins when any one is
blamed, but tries so constantly to excuse all, or,
when that is impossible, says nothing ?” A sweet
comment upon their institution! It so happened
that it was organized on the shortest day of the
year; and if its effects on all its members were as
happy as on this individual, they will have cause
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TO
U
to remember it with gratitude to the longest day
of their lives.
It is not proposed that you should surrender a
correct judgment, or attempt to applaud the vicious.
Yet do not testify too much complacency in the
condemnation even of those who deserve it. You
cannot compute the strength of their temptations,
or be positive that you would have offered a firmer
resistance. Be tender of the reputation of your
companions. Do not suppose that by detracting
from their merits, you establish your own. Join
cheerfully in their praises, even should they be
called forth by qualities or accomplishments in
which you are deficient. Speak with severity of
none. The office of censor is hardly safe for those
who are themselves “compassed about with in-
firmity."_" Slander," says the excellent Saurin,
“is a vice which strikes a double blow, wounding
both him who commits, and him against whom it
is committed." Those who possess the deepest
knowledge of human nature, are the least violent
in blaming its frailties. Be assured that you tes-
tify your discrimination more by discovering the
good than the evil among your fellow-creatures, so
imperfect are even the best, so much alloy mingles
with earth's finest gold.
We have now inquired, with regard to conversa-
tion in general, how it may be rendered agreeable,
safe, and subservient to utility. Before we dismiss
the subject, let us turn our attention to that modi-
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1
fication of it, which regards the intercourse of
young ladies with those of their own age among
the other sex. This is a point of no minor im-
portance. From your style of conversation and
manners, they are accustomed to gather their most
indelible impressions, not merely of talents, but of
those secret springs which modify feeling, and
character, and happiness. Their courtesy yields
to you the choice of subjects, and induces a general
acquiescence in your sentiments. But are you
aware that all these circumstances are scrutinized
freely in your absence ? that while you are flat-
tering yourself with having dexterously sustained
your part, cool criticism may be resolving your
wisdom into vanity, or associating your wit with
ill-nature?
I would not seek to disguise the degree of in-
fluence, which, in the radiant morning of your days,
you possess over young men. It is exceedingly
great. I beg you to consider it in its full import,
in all its bearings, and to “use it like an angel."
You have it in your power to give vigour to their
pursuit of respectability, to fix their attention on
useful knowledge, to fortify their wavering opi-
nions, and to quicken or retard their progress in the
path of benevolence and piety. You have it also
in your power to interrupt their habits of industry
and application, to encourage foppishness in dress,
to inspire contempt of a just economy and plain
exterior, to lead them to cultirate levity of
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184
CONVERSATION.
deportment, or to seek variety of amusements, at
the expense of money, which perhaps they can ill
afford, and of time, which it is madness to waste.
How important, my dear young friends, that the
influence thus entrusted to you be rationally, and
kindly, and religiously used !
In your conversation with young men, avoid
frivolity. Do not, for the sake of being called
sociable, utter sound without sense. There seems
implanted in some minds a singular dread of silence.
Nothing is, in their opinion, so fearful as a pause.
It must be broken, even if the result is to speak
foolishness. Yet to the judicious the pause would
be less irksome than the levity that succeeds it.
Neither reserve nor pedantry, in mixed society, are
desirable, but a preference of such subjects as do
not discredit the understanding and taste of an
educated young lady. Dress, and the various
claims of the candidates for the palm of beauty
and fashion, with the interminable gossip of re-
puted courtships, or incipient coquetries, are but
too prone to predominate. Perhaps you would
scarcely imagine, that by indulging much in these
topics, you are supposed to furnish a key to your
own prevalent tastes. Still less would you be
disposed to believe the freedom of remark to which
frivolity of deportment exposes you, even among
those young gentlemen who are most willing to
promote it. Listen to the elegant and reproving
pen of Addison. “If,” said he, "we observe the
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CONVERSATION.
185
w
conduct of the fair sex, we find that they choose
rather to associate with persons who resemble
themselves in that light and volatile humour which
is natural to them, than with such as are qualified
to moderate and counterbalance it. When, there-
fore, we see a fellow loud and talkative, full of
insipid life and laughter, we may venture to pro-
nounce him a female favourite."
I trust, my young friends, that nothing in your
deportment will ever authorize a conclusion like
this. Yet, if a young man of good education, re-
fined taste, and elevated morality, chooses in your
company trifling subjects, or descends often to levity,
pause, and inquire of yourself why it is so ?-Does
he suppose this deportment most congenial to you?
And what there is in your conduct to warrant such
an opinion?
. Good sense and knowledge of human nature, are
in the maxims given by a German author to his
daughter:-" Converse always with your female
friends, as if a gentleman were of the party: and
with young men, as if your female companions
were present." Avoid the dangerous license of
conversation both in variety of subject and freedom
of remark. Extreme delicacy on these points is
expected by correct judges, and should always
characterise an educated young lady.
I would not have conversation fettered by re-
straint, or paralyzed by heartless ceremony. But
I would see the dignity of the sex maintained
186
CONVERSATION.
by its fairest and most fascinating representatives.
I grieve that folly should be sanctioned by the
lips of beauty.
Conversation need not be divested of intelli-
gence by the vague fear of preciseness or pedantry.
It ought to be a delightful and improving inter-
course between intellectual and immortal beings.
To attain excellence in it, an assemblage of quali-
fications is requisite : disciplined intellect, to think
clearly, and to clothe thought with propriety and
elegance ; knowledge of human nature to suit
subject to character; true politeness to prevent
giving pain; a deep sense of morality to preserve
the dignity of speech ; and a spirit of benevolence
to neutralize its asperities and sanctify its powers.
It requires good talents, a good education, and a
good heart: the “charity that thinketh no evil,"
and the piety which breathes good will to man,
because it is at peace with its Maker. No wonder
that so few excel in what requires such rare com-
binations. Yet be not discouraged in your
attempts to obtain so valuable an accomplishment,
since it is the medium by which knowledge is
communicated, affection enkindled, sorrow com-
forted, error reclaimed, and piety incited to go on
her way rejoicing.
I beseech you, abuse it not. Every night, in the
silence of your apartment, let the heart question
the lips of their part in the day's doings. Recall
the instances in which they have been trilling,
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CONVERSATION.
187
profitless, or recreant to the law of kindness, and
thus gather deeper contrition for the prayer with
which you resign yourself to sleep. Lest this
work be done lightly or carelessly, make it an
emblem of that tribunal before which we must all
stand at last; and engrave indelibly on your memory
the solemn assurance that for “every idle word we
must give account in the day of judgment."
LETTER XIII.
EVENING THOUGHTS.
TI
The passing away of a day, is a natural period
for reflection. The plans and employments that
occupied it are laid aside; and the mind, which
may have been alternately too much elated or de-
pressed by surrounding objects, now scans them
in their true proportions, and, subsiding, takes note
of them and of itself.
Light withdraws its exciting vehicle, and silent
darkness, the sister of contemplation, resumes her
reign. The solemn regency of stars come forth
on the mighty concave, bearing witness that God
remembereth his great family, around whom he
hath drawn the curtains of repose. Perhaps the
moon, silvering hill, and vale, and stream, glides
on her course of beauty, the hostage of a more
glorious orb, which shall soon revisit the firmament.
Seem they not all to utter the promise of Divine
love-"Seed-time and harvest, and summer and
winter, and day and night, shall not cease?"
Let us look back upon all the changes of the
.
"
.
EVENING THOUGHTS.
189
v. Let
a friend cifts from
parted day. Let us take our leave of it, kindly
and tenderly, as of a friend who must return to us
no more. It brought us gifts from the “ Better
Land,"-opportunities of acquiring knowledge, of
confirming good resolution into habit, of seeking
the happiness of others, and of increasing our own.
May we be enabled to couple the memory of its
gifts with their faithful improvement. May it
have spoken to us of Him who sent them and
itself to us in mercy, and found listening and loving
hearts. And if, as we retrace its lineaments, a
tear of contrition should mingle with them, may it
be accepted by Him,
“who, from his throne of glory hears
Through seraph songs, the sound of tears."
Ere we bid farewell to the day whose mantle has
faded at the gates of the west, let us inquire, if any
event has marked it in the old time that was before
us. Perhaps it was the anniversary of some revo-
lution in the history of nations,—of the birth or
death of some illustrious individual,-or in the do-
mestic annal it may have portrayed some feature
of joy or sorrow, of hope or adversity, which it is
both fitting and salutary to retrace and deepen.
The habit of marking each recurring day by the
peculiar lineaments which appertain to them,
imparts a kind of individuality which heightens
their importance, and might aid us in so arresting
their fleeting course, as to number and apply them
to wisdom. I recommend to you to arrange syste-
190
EVENING THOUGHTS.
.
matically, in a manuscript book for that purpose,
a list of events which have distinguished every day
in the year. It may be gathered from the scroll
of history, from general reading, especially biogra-
phical, and from the heart's treasured legends of
friendship and domestic love. Look at it every
morning, it may suggest useful hints for conversa-
tion; and recapitulate in the evening the events
thus commemorated, among your subjects of medi-
tation. Often will it have a tendency to rekindle
gratitude to an unwearied Benefactor.
At this very moment, during years that are past,
nations may have been agonizing amid the pangs
of revolution, or the horrors of war. Is our own
country at peace, and under the protection of laws,
which give confidence to the weakest, and guard the
rights of those who have no where to lay their head?
How many may have mourned the fate of their
dearest ones slain in battle; or, musing on their
adventurous course upon the deep, shudder at the
thought of the tempest, and the iceberg, and the
shipwreck! Are those whom we love, safe?
How many are now suffering from sickness, or
bending with broken hearts over the couch of the
dying! Are we in health ? Are our dear ones un-
touched by the destroyer ?
Souls are at this moment going forth, some rent
unwillingly from the body, terror-stricken, unpre-
pared. Is our own ready for the summons ?
Let us strive to feel the value of each fleeting
EVENING THOUGHTS.
191
day, which, by lengthening our probation, gives us
opportunity to repair what has been omitted, to
repent of what is amiss, and to take stronger hold
of that only hope, which is as an anchor sure and
stedfast."
The spirit of our grateful prayer should rise
upon the downy pinions of night for the refresh-
ment of sleep. How sweet, yet mysterious is that
balm which, shed on the closing eyelids, soothes the
weary multitude from their pain,-and cheats the
worldly-minded from their “ carking care,”-and
divides the bad, for a while, from their evil practices,
--and renews the christian to"run his way rejoicing."
The sad of heart lays down his burden; and an
act of oblivion passes over all that had distressed
him. The traveller ceases to count the leagues
that divide him from his native land, and the
prisoner to measure the walls of his dungeon. The
galley-slave bows his head upon the oar, and is as
great as a king. The sea-boy forgets alike the
storm that rocks the mast, and the home that he
had too rashly left. The voyager, with the tear of
parting on his cheek, slumbers deeply, notwith-
standing
“the visitation of the winds,
That take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
With deafening clamours in the slippery shrouds.”!
The poor beast of burden, whom no eye pitied,
tastes the compassion of sleep; and the camel in
.
.
ESA
192
EVENING THOUGHTS.
the desert starts no longer at the bells of the
caravan. The wearied school-boy forgets his task;
and perhaps, in some curtained chamber,
“The nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the sick,
Whom, snoring, she disturbs.”
The child, who, in the passing day, took its first
little lesson of sorrow, sobs slightly in its broken
dream, and, turning upon the pillow, seeks plea-
santer visions. The infant, on the arm of its
happy mother, wears a smile, as if it heard the
whisper of angels.
Warmly should our gratitude be expressed to
the Great Father of all, for the favour of uninter-
rupted repose,—and the privilege of those delightful
dreams which sometimes accompany it, varying the
scene as with a magician's power, and peopling it
with bright and beautiful spirits.
What flights does the imagination take during
the hours of sleep! While the body slumbers, she
climbs the cliff, or hangs over the abyss, or poises
her pinion on the storm-cloud, or robes herself
with the rainbow, and listens at thc gate of heaven.
She invites memory to go with her, but often
drags her onward, like a half-wakened companion.
Then distant friends are brought near. The
lost return from the dead. Faded scenes of early
days are retouched, and buried feelings kindled
anew in the heart. When memory performs her
office imperfectly, and, reluctant to be withdrawn
from sleep, relapses into it again, unbridled fancy 9
EVENING THOUGHTS.
193
revels alone, and so bold and bright are her visions,
that the waking eye would fain prolong them, and
turn from the tame realities of life.
Some coldly deem it trifling and full of folly to
speak of dreams. But, because they have been
abused by superstition and ignorance, are they
never to be approached with clear and rational
thought? They occupy a formidable portion of
our little span of life. They are sources of plea-
sure and of pain. They have power, in some
measure, to cast a shadow over our waking moments.
Our feelings through the day may partake of their
colouring. We rise from frightful visions exhausted
as by positive labour or suffering. Is there any
regimen which will modify their character, and
give them the aspect of tranquillity and happiness?
If so,-is it not desirable to know it? Is it of no
consequence whether we are to spend a third part
of our lives in the midst of fancied terrors, or of
delightful imagery?-whether we are to be borne
on airy wings over varied regions, rejoicing in their
beauty, and holding converse with the lovely and
beloved ?-or to shiver among nameless dangers,
harassed by frightful spectres, and startled by fiery
clouds above, and an impassable gulf below?
I would not be willing for you to consider dreams
altogether as idle vagaries of the brain. Respect
them, and they will be your friends. But I hear
you ask, is there really any way of procuring
pleasant dreams? Those who are wiser than
.
.
.
.
194
EVENING THOUGHTS.
myself, have said that there was; and I will give
you some ancient prescriptions, which have been
recommended as the means of insuring them. ...
1. Preserve equanimity of temper. Indulge,
during the day, no angry, envious, or vindictive
feeling. Do not disturb or quicken the current of
blood through the heart, by any violent emotion.
A regular pulse, and a calm, even circulation of
blood and spirits, are favourable both to agreeable
dreams, and to longevity.
2. Avoid compression in dress. Let the lungs,
and heart, and spine, be throughout the day unfet-
tered, and free to perform the functions appointed
by their Creator. The quietness of sleep, and of
course the character of dreams, depend much on
attention to this advice.
3. Be temperate in all things. Permit nothing
to pass into your stomach which is calculated to
disorder it, either in the form of high-seasoned
meats, rich sauces, unripe fruits, or stimulating
liquids. Even of plain and proper food, do not
take an undue quantity, but desist before the
appetite is fully satiated. Judicious physicians
direct that nothing should be taken between the
regular repasts. At all events, remember that the
stomach is the key-stone of the frame, and will not
long sustain abuse with impunity.
4. Have the atmosphere of your sleeping-room
well ventilated, and perform, when possible, an
ablution before retiring, that the pores of the skin
'
"
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EVENING THOUGHTS.
195
may be unchecked in their important office during
sleep. Though the father of poets said, that
“dreams were from the gods :" yet we shall still
find them in their nature subject to the circum-
stances that affect the body; as all who have
had experience of such visions as are connected
with fever, confined air, obstructed circulation, or
even a constrained position, can testify.
5. Be kind, affectionate, and benevolent, to
those with whom you associate. Do all the good
in your power, and promote the happiness of those
whom you meet, by a kind word, or a smile, if you
can do no more. Preserve cheerfulness of spirits,
voice, and manner. Keep a “conscience void of
offence towards God and man." The happiness
of dreams will be a part of your reward.
6. If aught evil has been harboured in your
bosom throughout the day, cast it forth, ere you
sleep, by penitence and prayer. Lay your head
on your pillow, at peace with all the world. Close
your eyes with a smile on your countenance, and
resign yourself to the spirit of sweet dreams, and
to the ministry of angels.
Do not think lightly of these rules, my dear young
friends, though they may seem antiquated, or even
visionary. Test them for one year, before you
decide against them. Then, if you should find
them to fail in producing such dreams as you de-
sire, you will be convinced that they help to confer
the more durable treasure of a good life.
WARM
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EVENING THOUGHTS.
One more thought about dreams. Do they
not help to prove the soul's immortality? Its clay
companion is weary, and lies down to rest. But
with a tireless strength it wakes, it wanders, it
expatiates, it soars. Thus sleep, which has been
called the “brother of death," brings us proof that
we are to live for ever.
Glorious truth! breathed to us in dreams, as
well as written upon the pages of inspiration! We
shall live for ever! Though we seem to be swal-
lowed up in the grave, we shall rise again. May
we so keep God's commandments, that our eternal
abode shall be in those mansions where there is no
more sleep, because there can be no weariness or
woe, and where the brightest dream of earth's
prompting fades in darkness before the full and
fearless certainty of bliss.
LETTER XIV.
SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS.
How often is it asserted that the attainments of
women are superficial. If the fact be admitted,
the reason is obvious, for our system of education
is continually enlarging its circle of sciences and
accomplishments, without extending the time in
which to acquire them.
Yet are there not causes which concur to make
the age in which we live, as well as our own sex,
superficial ? Does early discipline enforce that
fixedness of attention, which was formerly held
essential to the acquisition of profound learning ?
Is not the unfolding mind, especially in our large
cities, made miscellaneous, by the number and
variety of objects presented to its view ? May not
the ease and luxury of fashionable life lull it into
sloth, until its powers are enervated ? Hear we of
any Daniel who, for the sake of wisdom, avoids
the dainties of a princely table, and chooses pulse
and water? Are our own times likely to produce
a Salmasius, who at the age of fourteen published
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a latin work, with critical annotations; or a Theo-
phrastus, who at ninety-nine wrote delineations of
human nature, with the fervent spirit of youth?
We require of those who seek intellectual emi-
nence, a conformity to customs which almost de-
stroys the possibility of such eminence. We expect
a student to sacrifice his time to the routine of call-
ing and visiting ; to be a man of genteel dress and
manners; to acquaint himself with the etiquette of
ceremonious society; to have the power of saying
trifling things elegantly. The day is past when
Demosthenes might retire to his solitude, with his
head half shaven, and escape censure; or Diogenes
take refuge in his tub, and be applauded for wis-
dom.
The multitude of miscellaneous works sweeps
away the power of mental application, and breaks
up consecutive trains of thought. A rapid mode
of reading is thus rendered necessary, which omits
to call into exercise the retentive powers, until
they become inert, and languish, or vengeful from
neglect, and refuse their aid when invoked. The
ancients, with their few books, were like men of
small estate, who cultivated their domain carefully,
and left wealth to others. The moderns, like the
settlers on our new western lands, purchase a pro-
vince, and die ere its forests are felled. When we
read merely the titles of books which have sprung
forth in a single department of literature, it would
scem that our threescore and ten years, frittered
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away as they are by other claims, would not suf-
fice for their perusal.
The state of the sciences, as well as the influence
of modern habits, render profound knowledge a rare
possession.—What wonderful accessions have been
made to the boundaries of some of the sciences,
within the memory of the present generation. And
he, who would grasp their whole circle, how far
may he hope to travel, before the little hour-glass
of life runs out? How have the limits of History
been extended since the time of Herodotus, of
Geography since the dim outline of Strabo, of
Natural Philosophy since the days of Bacon. The
mutability of those sciences which depend on ex-
periment, keeps the minds of their votaries on the
stretch, like Columbus with his spy-glass, amid
the billows of an untried ocean. Others have a
more permanent basis, and promise the student a
surer foothold. Political Economy takes note of
man as of a merchant, the amount of his capital,
and his facilities for transmuting his capacities
into gold :-Mathematics views him by his faculties
of computation and admeasurement:-Law takes
cognizance of him as capable of impeding or being
impeded." The study of the human mind, and of
the Deity, invite him to their magnificent thresholds
by peculiar allurements; the first having received
no new powers by the lapse of centuries, and the last
containing in himself neither possibility of change
nor shadow of turning. He who dives deep into
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the knowledge of himself and of his Maker, has
not the mortification to find the treasure that he
amasses, the continual sport of the passing wave.
In Intellectual Philosophy, we still look back
to the Stagyrite, of whom it has been well said,
that he "surpassed all men in acute distinctions,
in subtle argument, in severe method, in the power
of analyzing what is most compounded, of re-
ducing to simple principles the most various and
unlike appearances ;" but in Theology, the babe
and the sage of hoary hairs are alike learners, from
One Book, of that love to God and man, on which
“hang both the law and the prophets."
To those obstacles to profound erudition which
grow out of the habits of modern times, the vast
extent of ground occupied by the sciences, and the
unsettled and advancing character of some of them,
we add another, peculiarly obvious in our own
country--the universal strife and labour after riches,
Though the desire of wealth may be inherent in
human nature, yet the scope allowed for its ex-
ercise in our republic, is unusually broad. No
ancient aristocracy, by its time-cemented privileges,
distances the untitled competitor, but the son of
the day labourer, in his feverish imagination, may
clutch a purse as long as the heir of thousands.
The false sentiment, that it is necessary to be rich
in order to be respectable, inwrought with the ele-
ments of mind, leads the man of genius to jostla
in the thoroughfare with the crowds who but im-
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perfectly comprehend him, and by whom he will
be sure, in such a race, to be surpassed. In the
realm of learning, it produces the same effect
which the expectation of mines of the precious metals
produced on the colony at Jamestown, where, in
the words of its quaint historian, all other employ-
ments were abandoned for the sake of a vague
hope “ to dig gold, refine gold, wash gold, and load
gold."-Could the man who covets learning make a
sacrifice of his desire to die rich, what lofty
heights might he attain, among what serene con-
templations and elevated pleasures might he revel.-
“But these he must renounce, if lust of wealth
E'er win its way to his corrupted heart;
For ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart,
Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,
The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart,
The troublous day, and long distressful dream.
ER
Return, my roving muse, pursue thy purpos'd theme."
Yet if the tendencies of the present age are
rather to draw men from the heights of contempla-
tive philosophy, or the depths of scientific research,
they reveal here and there a salient point, decidedly
favourable to the intellectual progress of our own
sex. One of these is the cordiality with which
they are welcomed to pursuits from which they
were formerly excluded. Man among his recent
discoveries, bas made one, to which the keen eye
of all antiquity was blind,--that in educating his
- weaker companion, he doubles his own strength.
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“Knowledge was long since pronounced to be
power,"and yet it has remained locked up in
hieroglyphics from one half of the human race.
Had there been no monopoly, on the part of the
stronger sex, when “Learning cowled her head,"
and was cloistered with the monk--no mistake,
when in the madness of chivalry they deified one
moment, what the next they cast awayếno jealousy
of the feeble companion who guarded the hearth-
stone,-with what strides had the world advanced
in civilization and refinement. From time imme-
morial, man has not feared to entrust power to his
allies, or to give honour to his friends, but with
her, who dwelt nearer to his heart than friend or
ally, he hesitated to share the rich fruits of know-
ledge; he divided himself, and walked on alone
in those paths where he might have had, if not
vigorous aid, at least sweet companionship..
The present age, though not absolutely the dis-
coverer of the gain which might arise from educating
her, who is in one form or another to educate all
mankind, has exerted itself, beyond all its prede-
cessors, to atone for long neglect. It has proclaimed
that he, who obstructs in woman the attainment of
fitting knowledge, is his own enemy; that the
guardianship of domestic comfort, the nurture of
the unfolding mind, the regency over home's
hallowed sanctuary, cannot be safely committed to
a soul darkened by ignorance. It has perceived
that in each of these departments, she needs the
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sustaining power of a love and respect, which cannot
well be steadily accorded but to one intellectually
worthy of such distinction.
. It is no slight generosity which voluntarily
throws off ancient prejudices, and hastens to make
restitution. The man who aids the mental progress
of his weaker companion, deserves gratitude from
the community, and from future generations. Pliny
spoke his own praise, though he supposed himself
to be praising only his wife Calphurnia, when he
said, “to her other good qualities she unites a
taste for literature, inspired by her tenderness for
me." Those conjugal attachments, where intel-
lectual improvement is made a mutual object, have
been observed to contain elements of peculiar ten-
derness and constancy. The philanthropist who
promotes female culture on a thorough and ex-
tended scale,—that culture which combines the love
and practice of womanly duties, with the knowledge
which elevates and makes them graceful, --will
confer a benefit on posterity, which shall endure,
when the eloquence of Peter the hermit, and the
exploits of Cour de Lion, or the Saladin, shal
pall on memory like a worn-out tale.
I would say to the young of my own sex, be
grateful for the rich gift which is put into your
hands, and zealous to improve it to the utmosta
Give diligence not to defraud those from whose
generosity you enjoy the blessing of education, by
allowing them to suffer in their domestic comforts.
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ATTAINMENTS.
Rather “let them receive their own with usury"
Neither defraud yourselves by becoming super-
ficial,—a sound without a substance. If as high and
profound acquisitions in science are not expected
of you as of the other sex, it is still indispensable
that all your advances be marked by patient study
and thorough comprehension. Keep the plain
rule for your guide, that “whatever is worth doing,
is worth doing well." A good foundation in lite-
rature, and a familiar acquaintance with the bes!
authors, will fit you for companionship with the
intellectual and refined, and enable you to make
your firesides, altars of wisdom. Whatever may
be your occupation, devote a portion of every day
to the standard writers in your native language,
the historians and poets, the essayists and divines.
Do not consider the more ancient poets as of slight
consequence in a course of reading which consults
improvement; "for poetry," says Coleridge, "that
of the loftiest, and seemingly that of the wildest
kind, hath a logic of its own as severe as that of
the sciences, and even more difficult, because more
subtle, more complex, more dependent on fugitive
causes.'
You will find a well-disciplined literary taste, a
source of great delight. It has a self-sustaining
power, when the tinsel of life tarnishes. We are,
in our radical structure, as well as by the usages of
refined society, far more dependent than the other
sex. Our happiness rests on a few props, formed
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out of the affections. If they fail us, and they
may, we cannot turn to the world for a substitute.
Even were its fame and honour subject to our
control, they could not soothe us if the heart's
sanctuary was invaded, any more than the imagi.
nary music of the spheres might console the
homeless wanderer, who shrinks from the beating
of the tempest. But a well regulated mind, full
of rich resources, is a fortress of no ordinary
strength. Among these resources is a substitute
for friendship, in that fellowship with the great of
every age, which makes the solitary study, a peopled
land of choice spirits. We share a satisfaction
almost like personal intercourse, with these mighty
minds which the world has worshipped. “Literary
characters," says De la Mothe, " are cotemporaries
of all ages, and citizens of every clime." Even
the page that has silently chronicled our thoughts,
becomes to us as a sister. "I part with manu-
scripts as with dear friends, who have cheered me
in hours of sadness," said the sensitive Cowper. ;
The power of calling forth friends, from buried
ages and from distant realms, will naturally be
prized by the sex so prone to friendship, and
whose life is in the affections. They are also
incited to cast off the odium of being superficial
students, by the hope of doing good. Who can
estimate the amount of good which may be done, in
a country like oựrs, by educated women ? Men
may have more knowledge, yet influence others
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SUPERFICIAL ATTAINMENTS.
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less. By the nature of their pursuits, they cannot
often pause to scatter its seeds by the wayside.-
Borne on the current of a restless and excitable
age, multitudes of them struggle for wealth, or
honour, as the swimmer breasts the wave ;-they
rise for a moment on the crested billow, or sink
beneath it, and their wisdom perishes with them.
But the daughter or sister, in the quietness of the
parental home, the faithful teacher in the village
school-house, the mother in her secluded nursery,
are they not all forming others after their own
model-writing deathless words upon that which
is never to die?
Man may have more knowledge, and yet hoard
it up in his cabinet, or embody it in expensive
tomes, or confine it to the professions through
which he receives sustenance or attains distinction.
He lifts himself up, like a mountain in its majesty
-like the sombre forest, at once overshadowing
and awing the traveller. But woman, like earth,
the sweet mother-gives freely what has been en-
trusted to her, the corn ripening for the harvest,
the flower blushing in the sunbeam, the rich grass
which covers the dark, brown mould, with uncon-
scious beauty.
My dear young friends, be studious to prepare
yourselves for every duty that may devolve upon
you, in this age of high intelligence. If it has
been justly said of any of our sex, that they were
superficial, let it not be so said of you. Be grate-
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TO
ful to those who have thrown open to you the
doors of the temple of knowledge, and be just to
yourselves. Do all the good in your power, with
whatever mental wealth you have acquired, for
“ the time is short.” In the strong language of a
great moralist, “ the certainty that life cannot be
long, and the probability that it will be much
shorter than nature allows, ought to awaken every
one to the prosecution of whatever it is desirable
to perform. It is true that no diligence can ensure
success, death may interrupt the swiftest career ;
but whoever is cut off in the midst of persevering
improvement, has at least the honour of falling in
the ranks, and has fought the battle, though he
missed the victory."
LETTER XV.
BENEVOLENCE.
PERMIT me to press upon your attention a science
at once simple and sublime ; of easy attainment,
yet inexhaustible in its resources, and in its results
boundless as eternity. Some sciences require
superior intellect and severe study, yet to their
adepts bring little, save pride and ostentation.
But in this the humblest and the youngest may
become students, and find blessed fruits springing
up, and ripening in their own bosoms. It is
doubtless evident to you, that I speak of the science
of doing good. Yet I would not confine the term
to its common acceptation of alms-giving. This is
but ã single branch of the science, though an
important one. A more extensive and correct
explanation is, to strive to increase the happiness,
and diminish the amount of misery, among our
fellow-creatures, by every means in our power.
This is a powerful antidote to selfishness, that
baneful and adhesive disease of our corrupt nature,
or, to borrow the forcible words of Pascal, that
BENEVOLENCE209
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“ bias towards ourselves, which is the spring of all
disorder." Benevolence multiplies our sources of
pleasure, for in the happiness of all whom we
bless, we are blessed also. It elevates our enjoy-
ments, by calling into exercise, generous motives
and disinterested affections.
Lord Bacon, that star of the first magnitude
among the constellations of mind, says, that he
early “took all knowledge to be his province."
Will you not take all goodness to be your province ?
It is the wiser choice, for “knowledge puffeth up,
but charity edifieth." Knowledge must “ perish
in the using," but goodness, like its Author, is
eternal.
Dear young friend, whose eye, undimmed by
the sorrows of time, is now resting upon this page,
suffer me, from the experience of an older and
earth-worn traveller, to urge you to bind yourself
an apprentice to the trade of doing good. He
will be your Master, whose “mercies are new
every morning, and fresh every moment." He
will give you a tender and sustaining example,
who came to “ seek and to save that which was
lost." They, too, will be your teachers, those
bright-winged ministering spirits, who hold gentle
guardianship over us, their weaker brethren, lest
we “dash our foot against a stone;" whose harps
are tremulous with joy when one sinner repenteth.
The wise and good of all realms and nations, those
who have gone to rest, and those who still labour.
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you may count as your companionsma vast and
glorious assembly,
Resolve, therefore, this day, that you will not
live exclusively for your own gratification, but that
the good of others shall be an incentive to your
studies, your exertions, your prayers. If you will
be persuaded thus to enrol yourselves among the
students of Heaven, consider attentively your own
powers, situation, and opportunities of doing good.
Take a view of the ground which you occupy.
Look around on every member of your own family.
Contemplate all among whom you reside, and
with whom you particularly associate. Are any
ignorant, whom you might instruct; unhappy,
whom you might console; in error, whom you
might reclaim ? Make acquaintance with the poor.
See with your own eyes the deficiency of their
accommodations, and the nature of their sorrows.
The directions given by the father of Louis XVI.
to the tutor of his children, reflect more honour
upon him than the circumstance of his royal birth:
“ Take them to the cottages of the peasantry.
I will have them see and taste the black bread
which they eat. I insist on their handling the
straw that serves the poorest for a bed. Let them
weep; learn them to weep; for the prince who
has never shed tears for the woes of others, can
never make a good king.".
From among the many charitable societies of
the day, select one whose design is most congenial
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BENEVOLENCE.
211
to your feelings, or most approved by your older
friends. Enrol yourself among its members,
study its management, and become familiar with
the detail of its operations. Thus you will preserve
your own interest from languishing, and gather
instruction from the associated wisdom of others.
Whatever income you may possess, or whatever
stipend is allowed you, set apart one tenth for
charitable purposes. This, surely, will not seem
to you a large proportion. Some benevolent
persons have devoted a fifth of their possessions
to the poor. The pious Countess of Warwick
could not be satisfied without distributing one
third of her large income, to the wants of the
distressed. To a young lady, a sweet disciple in
the school of charity, and now, I trust, a participant
in the bliss of angels, who inquired what proportion
of her fortune she should devote to sacred uses,
I suggested a tenth. But she replied, “I like
better the rule of the publican, 'Lord, the half of
my goods I give unto the poor.'” The late ex-
cellent Mrs. Isabella Graham was in the habit of
devoting a tenth part of her possessions to charitable
uses, under every reverse of fortune. On one
occasion, after the sale of some property, 10001.
was brought her. So large a sum was new to
her; and fearing the selfishness which is said to
accompany riches, she exclaimed, “Quick! quick!
let me appropriate my tenth, before my heart
grows hard."
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BENEVOLENCE.
For the division of a tenth of our substance
there seems a kind of warrant in Scripture, by the
tithe which the Almighty commanded his chosen
people to render. “God," says an ancient writer,
" demandeth the seventh part of our time, and the
tenth of our fortune, but man, in his sabbathless
pursuit of the world, is prone to give him neither.”
Whatever proportion you decide to consecrate,
keep in a separate purse, never to be entrenched
on for other purposes. If it be only a few pence
be faithful; God can make it more, if He sees you
are a good steward. Ponder the means of render-
ing it the most widely and permanently useful.
Study the economy of charity. By the exercise
of correct judgment, a small sum may do more
good than ten times that value, without it. As far
as possible, increase your portion for the poor by
your own industry. “Shall we call ourselves bene-
volent,” says the Baron Degerando, “when the gifts
we bestow do not cost us a single privation ?" To
ask your parents or friends for money, and give it
carelessly to the poor, is casting into God's trea-
sury that which costs you nothing . Either deduct
it from your regular allowance, or obtain it by your
own efforts. There are many kinds of elegant
needle-work, and ingenious device, by which young
ladies may furnish the means of charity, and at
the same time confirm industrious habits. I have
known some who, by rising an hour earlier in the
morning than usual, and making some garment
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which was needed in the family, received from
their mother a proportionate price, and thus earned
the delight of making some shivering child more
comfortable for the winter. If your time is much
at your own disposal, statedly employ one hour
out of the twenty-four in working for some chari-
table object. More will be thus accomplished
than you would at first believe. To aid in educat-
ing a child, is one of the most commendable and
profitable designs. Facilities are recently afforded
for doing this for the children of heathen lands, in
the families of Christian teachers. This seems to be,
emphatically, “ saving a soul from death." I have
seen a young lady measuring out by an hour-glass
this consecrated portion of the day, with her hands
busily employed, and the sweetest expression upon
her mind-illumined face. And I remembered
how tuneful, among the fragrant groves of Ceylon,
would rise the hymn of praise from the little
being whom she was helping to the knowledge of
God and the love of a Saviour. I reflected, too,
with gratitude, that at the close of the year, when
she reviewed its scenes, and every day passed be-
fore her with its crown of industry and bounty,
that she would gather more true delight from their
simple record, than from the tinseled recollections
of gaiety and fashion. Do you think that you
are too young to enter on an organized system of
benevolence? I knew a school of fifteen members,
whose ages ranged from six to sixteen years,
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BENEVOLENCE.
though the greatest proportion were between ten
and thirteen. They were smitten with the love of
doing good, and associated themselves into a so-
ciety for that purpose. In a period of little more
than two years they completed for the poor 160
garments, many of them carefully altered or judi-
ciously repaired from their own wardrobe. Among
these were thirty-five pairs of stockings, knit, with-
out sacrifice of time, during the reading and recita-
tion of a course of history, which formed a principal
part of their afternoon study. That they might
render their monthly contributions the fruit of their
own industry, they employed almost incredible
diligence, as lessons in different sciences were
daily required to be studied out of school hours.
By rising an hour earlier in the morning, time was
gained for the various uses of the needle, through
which the pleasure of alms-giving was earned.
Among their contributions, I recollect a consider-
able sum for an asylum for the deaf and dumb,
for the schools newly established among the Che-
rokees, and for the purchase of religious books
for the children of the neighbouring poor. The
afternoon of Saturday, was the only period of
recess from school during the week. This single
interval of leisure they voluntarily devoted to their
chosen occupation of doing good.
When I have found them convened in their
school-room, on this their only afternoon allotted
to recreation, and observed them, instead of being
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engaged, like others of their age, in useless sports,
executing works of charity, planning how some
garment might be best accommodated to its object,
or some little contribution rendered subservient to
the greatest good, their eyes sparkling with the
heart's best gladness, and their sweet voices echoing
its melody, I could not but trust that some pure
spirit of Heaven's prompting hovered over them.
There was an interesting period in the history of
this little institution, when its almoners first com-
menced distributing the “coats and garments,"
which like Dorcas, they had made with their own
hands for the poor. Then they either discovered
instances of suffering which agitated their sensi-
bilities, learned the lesson that gratitude is not
always proportioned to benefits, or returned exulting
in the truth that “it is more blessed to give than
to receive." No more interesting report of these
visits of charity was ever given, than by a lovely girl
of nine years of age, who was deprived of the powers
of hearing and speech. Yet though her lips the pro-
vidence of Almighty God had sealed, her eye, her
gesture, her finely-varied countenance, glowing
with the spirit of benevolence, left nothing for oral
language to utter. At this period, the winter was
peculiarly severe, and she had accompanied another
almoner to the lodging of a family recently re-
moved from a clime where an extreme of penury
exists, which in our favoured state of society is
seldom known. She expressed strong commisera-
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tion that there was so little fire, when the wind
was raging without, and the snow deep upon the
earth, and that a sick babe seemed to have neither
medicine nor food. Her description of the thin
and tattered garments of the mother, and of her
face, marked at once with sorrow and with patience,
evinced that not the slightest circumstance had
escaped her discrimination ; while the tears of ex-
quisite pity trembling in her eye, proved that her
heart was as little accustomed to the woes of her
fellow-creatures as to their vices. I have detained
you longer than I intended with the picture of
this little group, because it furnishes an example
in point, that the mind, in its early stages, is
capable, both of the systematic arrangement, and
the judicious economy of charity. Often, while
gazing with delight on the loved circle, I fondly
believed that the habits which they were then
forming would have a lasting influence over their
future character, and that wherever their lot might
be cast, they would each of them be blessings in
their day and generation.
In this, our highly-privileged age, the modes of
doing good are exceedingly numerous. Be thank-
ful to any one who furnishes you with one of these
opportunities. By a man, who was distinguished
in the science of charity, it was early adopted as a
maxim, that "capacity and opportunity to do good
not only give a right to do it, but make the doing
it a duty." Faithfully did he observe this precept.
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217
He began in the family of his father, by doing all
the good in his power to brothers and sisters, and
domestics. After he became engaged in the duties
of life, and eminent in the labours of a sacred pro-
fession, every day was distinguished by either
devising or executing some design for the benefit of
others. Those who intimately knew him, assert, that
not a day was suffered to pass, without his having
devoted some part of his income to pious purposes.
Undoubtedly, one of the best modes of assisting
the poor is through their own industry. This,
like the voluntary cooperation of the patient,
renders the remedies of the physician doubly
effectual. It elevates character, and prevents that
humiliating consciousness of dependence, which
bows a noble spirit, and renders a tame one abject.
It is peculiarly desirable that children should be
withheld from habits of mendicity. They inter-
fere with principles of integrity, and with a health-
ful self-respect. Aid offered to a mother, in the
form of some employment, in which her children
may be associated so as to increase and share her
earnings, is most efficient benevolence.
· A lady of wealth became the resident of a vil-
lage where there was much poverty. In her
modes of relief she studied how to afford aliment
to industry and to hope, rather than to foster help-
lessness, or call forth supine gratitude. Her
excellent judgment suggested a happy expedient
She offered to supply those females who came to
218
BENEVOLENCE.
her for assistance, with materials for spinning.
The proposition was thankfully accepted. When
the yarn was brought, she paid for it promptly,
adding a trifle more than they had been accustomed
to receive. This caused her to be soon thronged
with applicants. Weavers as well as spinners
presented themselves, and the busy sound of the
wheel and loom rose cheerfully from many an
humble habitation. Domestic fabrics of great
durability, and suited to the varied wants of families,
were thus constructed. Such a proportion of them
as were needed by her manufacturers, she disposed
of to them, at a lower price than they could else-
where be obtained, and thus had the pleasure of
seeing households, once comparatively idle or im-
provident, neatly clothed by the work of their own
hands. The intercourse which was thus promoted,
familiarized her with the situation of families, and
enabled her to make appropriate gifts of books to
children, cordials to the sick, and comforts to the
aged. Aiming still at a more expansive benevolence,
yet avoiding ostentation, she selected from among
the more intelligent matrons a few, with whom
she consulted monthly, on the best means of ren-
dering her plans effectual. She not only derived
advantage from their practical good sense, and
thorough knowledge of common affairs, but com-
municated happiness by her condescension, and by
the feeling that they were found worthy to be as-
sociated with a superior mind, in the science of
1
i.
BENEVOLENCE.
219
doing good. Perceiving that there were in the
village some petty disaffections, arising from secta-
rian jealousies, she arranged that each denomination
should be represented at this humble board of ma-
nagers ; and the pleasant intercourse into which
they were thus drawn, at their monthly visits of
consultation, dissolved prejudices and fostered kind
affections. In process of time she added a school,
for which she provided a competent instructress,
often visiting it herself, and statedly distributing
premiums to the most deserving. By this steady
consecration of her influence to the best objects,
the face of the village was changed, and many
hearts poured blessings upon their benefactress.
Much good has been done in communities, where
schools are infrequent or expensive, by the intro-
duction of sewing classes. The plan is exceedingly
simple and effective. A lady selects from among
the daughters of the neighbouring poor, ten or
twelve of a proper age for the instruction she
intends. She invites their parents to allow them
to come to her house for one afternoon in each
week. She there teaches them, for two or three
hours, those varieties of plain needle-work which
bear on the comfort of families, and an ignorance
of which helps to perpetuate penury, and to make
its wretchedness more visible. While busied in
their useful employments, she either reads to them
from some book,--relates to them some circum-
stance, or impresses on them some precept calculated
LE
220
BENEVOLENCE.
to enforce their relative, moral, and religious duties.
She soon acquires knowledge of their difference in
character and situation, which enables her to adapt
her instructions to individual benefit. Neatness
and industry, domestic order and propriety of
manners, amiable dispositions and habits of piety,
have been known to be thus transplanted into
households where their opposites had prevailed.
The confidence of the pupils is won by the kind
attention of one whom they feel to be their superior
in position as well as in knowledge; and the
parents are usually moved by the same condescen-
sion to yield to her advice, and strengthen that
influence over their children, which they see can
have no other motive than to promote their good.
The pupils of such classes have been known to carry
through future life, proofs of the most tender remem-
brance of their benefactress : and from the rude cot-
tages in the new colonial settlements, the voice of the
mother has been heard, telling her own little ones,
of the kind lady who admitted her weekly to her
nice parlour, and taught her to make and mend the
garments which keep them so comfortable, and
how to do her duty, and to seek the God who
giveth ability for every good word and work.
Classes of this kind are the most valuable where
the deepest poverty prevails; or in manufacturing
districts, where the children of a dense population
are too much occupied to have leisure to attend
regular schools.
BENEVOLENCE.
221
The gift of useful books may also be ranked
among the most unexceptionable forms of charity.
It would be well to choose none for that purpose
which you have not first carefully perused. Thus,
you will not only enrich your own mind from their
treasures, but become qualified to judge of their
adaptation to particular stations, characters, and
states of mind. The Sacred Scriptures, and sim-
ple treatises enforcing its precepts, without any
mixture of sectarian bitterness, will doubtless oc-
cupy a prominent place in your library for distri-
bution. Biographies of persons illustrious for
benevolence and piety, will be found to exercise a
highly beneficial influence. Make these gifts to
such as you have reason to think will put them to
the best use. To the young it will sometimes be
well to lend them, on condition that, at returning
them, they will render you some account of their
contents. This will generally secure an attentive
perusal, and also give you the opportunity of
profitable conversation, either to engrave some pre-
cept on their memory, or recommend some ex-
ample to their imitation. Lay useful volumes in the
way of domestics, who may thus be induced to
read them. Who can tell how much good may
result from a hint, or train of thought thus sug-
gested ? Dr. Franklin, so eminent for public spirit,
and so distinguished in distant lands for his designs
of utility, acknowledges: “If I have ever been a
useful citizen, the public owe the advantage of it
1
222
BENEVOLENCE.
pent
to a small book, which I met with when a boy,
entitled, “Essays to do Good,' written by the Rev.
Dr. Cotton Mather. It had been so little regarded
by its former possessor that several leaves were
torn out, but the remainder gave me such a turn of
thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct
through life; for I have always set a greater value
on the character of the doer of good, than any
other kind of reputation."
The missionary zeal of Henry Martyn, which
left his name as a burning light among the churches,
was enkindled by a perusal of the life of David
Brainerd. Samuel J. Mills, the pioneer of mercy
to long-neglected Africa; and Fisk, who in his
labours of love, followed his Master's footsteps
from despised Nazareth, to the vales of Bethany,
ascended breezy Olivet, and wept among the shades
of Gethsemane, derived their promoting impulse
from the same book. Nor will it be possible to
compute, until the scrutiny of the last account,
how much of the wisdom of the truly great, of the
virtue of those who have been benefactors to man-
kind, or the piety of the saint who hath already
entered into bliss, has been the fruit of some
silent and eloquent page, perlaps accidentally read,
or gratuitously presented. .
When I look back upon the sheltered and
flowery path of childhood, one image is ever there,
vivid and cherished above all others. It is of
hoary temples, and a brow furrowed by more than
.
.
BENEVOLENCE.
223
fourscore winters, yet to me more lovely than the
bloom of beauty, or the freshness of youth, for it
is associated with the benevolence of an angel.
Among the tireless acts of bounty, which rendered
her name a watchword in the cells of poverty, and
her house a beacon-light to the broken in heart,
were the gift of books, and the education of indi-
gent children. On stated days, the children of the
neighbourhood were gathered around her, fed at
her table, made happy by her kindness, instructed
from her lips, and encouraged to read and under-
stand the books with which her library was stored
for their use. Surely, in some of those hearts, the
melody of that voice, speaking of things that
“ pertain unto the kingdom of God," is still trea-
sured; among the eyes that were then raised to
her with affectionate reverence, some must still
restore her image, as well as that which now fills
with the tear of an undying gratitude.
That a desire of goodness may not evaporate in
empty protestations, or lose itself in desultory
paths, let us endeavour to mark out a map to regu-
late its course. A system, adapted like the fol-
lowing, to every day in the week, may help both
to define duty, and to secure perseverance :-
Sunday.--What shall I do to manifest my grati-
tude to my Almighty Benefactor ? Shall I not,
on this hallowed day, abstain from worldly pursuits
and conversation, study his holy word, recount his
mercies with a thankful spirit, and solicit his
224
BENEVOLENCE.
guidance and blessing on all the employments and
changes of the week?
Monday.-What good can I do for my parents,
or friends older than myself, to whom I am in-
debted? Can I perform any office conducive to
their comfort, or signalize, by any increase of re-
spect or tenderness, my obedience and affection?
Tuesday. How can I advance the improvement
of my brothers and sisters, the servants, or any
other member of the family?
Wednesday.-Can I exert any influence over my
companions, neighbours, or intimate friends, to
read some useful book, and make its contents the
subject of conversation, or to perform some good
work?
Thursday.--Are there any poor whom I may
visit--sick, whom I may assist-sorrowful, with
whom I may sympathize? Have I no portion to
carry to the destitute-no message of comfort from
Heaven, to those who are in adversity ?
Friday. --- Are there any who feel unkindly
towards me, and is it in my power to render them
any friendly office ? Let me strive to return good
for evil, if it be only by an increased kindness and
courtesy of deportment.
Saturday.-What can I do for my own spiritual
improvement? Let me in solitude take a review
of my conduct during the week, comparing each
day with the resolutions which were adopted to
guide it. From my omissions may I learn humilitý
.
.:
BENEVOLENCE.
225
and wisdom, and by self-communion and prayer,
gather strength to pass another week more as I
shall wish I had, when the close of life approaches.
As a part of the science which we contemplate,
let us now bestow some attention on the manner of
doing good. In imparting relief to the poor,
always regard their feelings. Let the law of kind-
ness dwell on your lips whenever you address them.
Are we better than they, because a larger propor-
tion of this world's fleeting possessions has fallen
to our share ? He who "maketh us to differ,"
will surely be displeased, if there is pride in our
heart, or unkindness on our lips, towards our poor
brother. Do good without seeking a return, even
of grateful acknowledgment. Disinterestedness
is essential to proficiency in this science. What
reward did Howard expect, when he resigned the
ease of affluence, and encountered hardships and
peril of life, “ to dive into the depth of dungeons
--to plunge into the infection of hospitals--to
survey the mansions of sorrow and pain-to take
the gauge of misery, depression and contempt to
remember the forgotten—to attend to the neglected
to visit the forsaken-and to compare and collate
the distresses of all men in all countries?" Verily,
his reward is in heaven.
Persevere in good offices, without looking for a
return, and even should ingratitude be your portion.
It may sometimes happen that the most laborious
efforts for the good of others are misunderstood,
226
BENEVOLENCE.
misconstrued, or repaid with indifference and dis-
like. Still hold on your course, with an unchanged
mind. Your object is not the applause of men,
neither should their injustice deter you. You have
taken Him for your pattern, who “sendeth rain on
the just and on the unjust, and doeth good unto
the unthankful and evil.”
In your charities avoid ostentation. It is ex-
ceedingly disgusting to make allusions to them,
as if anxious for observation and praise. Never
speak of them at all, unless explanation is necessary.
You may excite your young companions to similar
efforts, without blazoning your own deeds. There
is a sacred secrecy in true charity, which he, who
violates, hath mistaken its nature. Scripture de-
fines it, in the figurative injunction, “not to let the
left hand know what the right hand doeth.” God,
whose eye is upon the soul, and who weigheth its
motives of action, perceiveth, that unless charity
dwell with humility, its deeds are nothing worth.
The most benevolent have ever been the most
humble.
There are certain classes of benevolent deeds,
which fall so peculiarly within the province of
females, as to have obtained the name of feminine
charities. I allude to the relief of the famishing,
and the care of the sick.
Indeed the very etymology of the word lady,
which has been resolved into a Saxon term, com-
posed of loaf, and to serve, signifies that dealing
the proving
I allod obtained the
.
BENEVOLENCE.
227
food to the hungry was deemed so essential a
feature in her character, that the giver of the loaf,
and the lady, became synonymous. In the days
of primitive Christianity, ladies of the highest rank
were often found at the bedsides of the humblest
sufferers, meekly ministering to their necessities.
The example of the sisters of a sect, differing from
our own, deserves the tribute of our respect and
admiration. The nuns, attached to the Romish
faith, have long been eminent for their services to
sick and dying strangers; they have been found
in hospitals, and amid the ravages of pestilence,
fearless of contagion, and unconscious of fatigue,
smoothing the sleepless pillow of disease, and
never deserting the sufferer, though forsaken by
all beside, until death comes to his release. Justly
have they earned the appellation of "sisters of
charity," and let us gladly render praise where it
is due, and be quickened to emulation in the path
of goodness, even by those whose opinions may
differ from our own.
An ancient writer has styled the poor, “the re-
ceivers of Christ's rents." It would seem that he
had constituted them his representatives. In sooth-
ing the grief of his disciples, at their approaching
separation, he said: “Me ye have not always, but
the poor are always with you, and whensoever ye
will, ye may do them good.” An obligation is
thus created, to extend to them the same compas-
sion which we would have shown to our Saviour,
ET
228
BENEVOLENCE.
had we been permitted to hear from his lips the
assertion, that he had not where to lay his head."
If, therefore, we admit the proposition, that the
“poor are the receivers of Christ's rents," there is
no room left for exultation in our acts of bounty.
Is there any merit in the payment of a just debt?
- Verily, boasting is excluded.” The call is for
gratitude, that we are allowed the privilege. “The
poor," said the venerable Bishop Wilson, “receive
at our hands the rights and dues belonging unto
God. We must have a care of defrauding them."
The mother of the Chevalier Bayard, in her advice
to him says: “Be bountiful, of the goods that
God shall give you, to the poor and needy, for to
give for his honour's sake never made any man
poor; and believe me, my son, the alms that you
shall dispense will greatly profit both your body
and soul."
Mankind are like one great family, dividing
among each other the gifts of a common parent.
Those who are permitted to impart, should thank
him with a cheerful and humble spirit. The inter-
change of benefits, the communion of giving and
receiving, create some of the best affections of
which our nature is capable. The generous sym-
pathy--the active benevolence-the mutual de-
pendence, which are thus awakened and confirmed,
are powerful preparatives for heartfelt piety. So
that doing good is one of the legitimate paths to
being good. Therefore, have I so much pressed it
IT
.
BENEVOLENCE,
229
upon your susceptible hearts, dear young friends,
now, in life's sunny morning, while God is waiting
to be gracious. But I must quit this delightful
subject, lest your patience refuse longer to bear
with me.
In the fabulous record of ancient times, it is
stated that when the name of Plutarch was men-
tioned, the echo replied, Philosophy : so when you
shall slumber beneath the clods of the valley, may
your name, uttered by the living, be but another
word for Benevolence.
LETTER XVI. !
SELF-CONTROL.
That self-regulating power, by which the affec-
tions and passions are subjugated to the dictates
of duty, and the precepts of inspiration, should be
assiduously cultivated by woman. Appointed all
her life to be “under tutors and governors,” both
her comfort and safety require that the principle
of discipline should be rooted in her heart, As
authority is best exercised by those who have
themselves learned subordination, so she should
govern herself, that she may be better able to obey.
As the strength of nations is in the unity of in-
dividuals—so the beauty of a well-balanced cha-
racter may be traced back to the element of
self-control.
Other checks are of unequal operation. The
eye of authority cannot always be vigilant. The
heart that we delight to make happy cannot always
be near. The love of popularity may create an
artificial goodness, and stir up hypocrisy to adorn
SELF-CONTROL.
231
a " whited sepulchre.” But that voice which
composes the warring factions of the soul, com-
mands silence when Reason speaks, and enforces
obedience when Virtue lifts her sceptre, must
derive its strength from above. Such a regimen
as promotes this great result, should be steadily
pursued by the young.
Submission to parents, teachers, and superiors,
harmony with brothers, sisters, and friends, pre-
pare the way for those more arduous relative
duties which devolve upon our sex; and all are
rendered comparatively easy to her whose heart is
habitually governed by the understanding. I do
not say that our conduct is ever in so perfect
accordance with our best resolutions, as to leave at
the close of the most faultless day no room for
regret. Measuring deed and motive by a law,
divine, we are led to that deep contrition which
lays its hand on its mouth, and " its mouth in the
dust." Still such painful consciousness is salutary.
It stimulates to new exertion, while it levels the
fabrics of pride. We should be convinced of in-
firmity, not contented with it.
Calmness and equanimity are excellent virtues
in our sex, and the more so, as our sphere of ac-
tion is exposed to those lesser causes of irritation
which, more effectually than great afflictions, try
the temper of the soul. Do we think it hard to
have our wishes opposed, our motives misunder-
stood, our good deeds evil spoken of? Yet these
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SELF-CONTROL.
circumstances must often occur. It is wisest to
meet unkind remark and ridicule with little notice,
or with no reply. Eneas was instructed to pass
in silence, the monstrous shapes, and mocking
chimeras, which his sword had menaced in vain.
Thus the waste of feeling is saved, and the triumph
of unkindness prevented; for malice is more readily
disarmed hy indifference, than by conflict, or re-
taliation.
It is a high attainment in the science of self-
command, to bear trials of temper with an un-
changed cheerfulness of deportment. “In all my
persecutions,” said Count Bouneval, an unfortunate
officer, under Prince Eugene, “I have never lost
either my appetite, or my good humour.” Uncon-
genial companions and employments, for which we
have no taste, must sometimes be our lot. The
sweet and salutary submission with which such
evils may be sustained, was beautifully illustrated
by Winkelman:“While I taught a-b-c, to little
slovenly children, I was aspiring after the know-
ledge of the beautiful, and meditating low to my-
self on the similes of Homer. Then I said, as I
still say, "Peace, my soul, thy strength shall sur-
mount thy necessities.'”.
· A fixed principle of equanimity is required, not
only to discharge duties adverse to the taste, but
to meet without elation the sudden sunbeam of
prosperity. The age in which we live admits
of unexpected changes in the condition of men,
SELF-CONTROL.
233
and reverses for which there could have been little
or no preparation. A true mental balance is re-
quired to hold our way upon a height without
giddiness, as well as to pass through the depths
unmoved. Perhaps no better eulogium has been
pronounced on the wife of Cesar, than the remark
of a historian, that the triumphs of her husband
never inspired her with presumption, nor his re-
verses with dejection. No change of manner
designated to others, when she was the wife of the
senator, or the wife of the master of the world.
Though a participation in Roman triumphs will
never put our philosophy to the proof; yet the
principle of equanimity under every chance of
fortune, is peculiarly noble and consistent in the
daughters of a republic. “Those continual
crossings and traversings which beset us," says a
Christian moralist, “are but so many lessons,
teaching us to conform ourselves to the life of
Him, who pleased not himself."
Self-control is essential to females, because the
duties of their peculiar station so often demand
its exercise. Though they are happily excused
from a part in those political convulsions which
leave traces of blood on the tablet of history, yet
in the routine of domestic life many unforeseen
and distressing emergencies occur, which need the
calm summoning and prompt application of every
power. How often do sudden sickness, or severe
casualty, require the aid of the tenderest hand;
234
SELF-CONTROL.
and how painful is it for the sufferer to be dis-
tressed by the agitation of those whom he loves,
or by their inability to render such services as are
most important to his welfare.
The dangers which occur in travelling, or on
voyages, are often of an appalling nature. Then,
it is the part of our sex, not to embarrass those
who have the superintendence, with the burden of
their own fears; to do with presence of mind all
that is in their power for the aid or consolation of
others, and to bear with resignation their own
share of evil. Confidence in the Supreme Being,
and habitual surrender of ourselves to the care of
that Providence without which “not a sparrow
falleth," are the surest foundations for this fabric
of duty. A serene brow, a calm voice, and a
manner free from perturbation, amid impending
dangers, are high attainments in woman, and often
aid to inspire the stronger sex with courage, amid
their more exposed stations of hazard and of toil.
The Rev. John Wesley, during a voyage to
America, encountered a terrible storm, which
threatened shipwreck. The most hardy seamen
gave up all for lost, and proud minds yielded to
dismay and despair. Amid this scene of confusion
a little band of Moravians were gathered together,
singing, with tranquil voices, a hymn to the Re.
deemer. It was sweet in that hour of tumult and
terror, to hear the tones of the mother and the
child blend untremulous with the deeper intona,
SELF-CONTROL.
235
tions of the father and the pastor. Beyond all
hope, the tempest subsided. Wesley expressed
his surprise to the spiritual teacher of the Mora-
vians, at the self-command of his people, especially
of the more timid sex, and of the little ones. “Our
women and children," he replied, with simplicity,
“ are not afraid to die.”
If timidity in seasons of danger should be re-
sisted, the indulgence of imaginary fears is still
less to be tolerated. Few causes have more con-
spired to perpetuate the opinion of the mental
inferiority of females, than their tendency to yield
to slight alarms. To shriek at a reptile, to be
ready to swoon at every unpleasant sight, to express
exaggerated sentiments of terror on every possible
occasion, though they may be endured or even flat-
tered in the season of youth and beauty, are entirely
beneath that dignity which our sex ought to main-
tain. There is also a yain imagination, nourished
by improper reading, which produces ridiculous
results. To fancy one's self, in this very “ matter-
of-fact age," an object of admiration to chivalrous
knights and disguised heroes, or in danger from
assassins, robbers, or spectral and undefinable be-
ings, is too ludicrous for serious argument.
Scorn all affectation, but consider that of fear
as especially ill-judged and unfortunate. That
structure of character which leads woman to depend
on man as her natural protector, is calculated to
awaken his interest, because it arouses him to
236
SELF-CONTROL.
what his Creator intended him to be, a guard and
covert for the “weaker vessel.” But it is false
policy to make unnecessary appeals. They have
no effect upon the judicious, except to create dis-
gust. If you are really timid, my dear young
friends, set yourselves to reform it as a fault of
character. Summon to uniform and rational ac-
tion the powers with which you are endowed, and
strengthen them by trust in the sleepless watch
of His fatherly care, to whom the lowest sigh of
the feeblest nature is audible.
I have seen in one of our own sex, a presence
of mind so consistent, that no unexpected duty, or
sudden alarm, or distressing emergency, found it
unprepared. The judgment was always clear, the
spirits unhurried, the mind ready for action. It
was united with superior talents, and gained, from
all who witnessed it, perfect respect. It seemed,
in this instance, to have affinity with the principle
of longevity, and to aid life to run clear, and bright,
and dregless, to the last drop. In beholding it
intimately, as it was my privilege to do, I have
often been reminded of the beautiful sentiment of
Plutarch, “one of the rewards of philosophy is
long life." Rational and firm piety was at its
foundation, and as it has been exemplified by
woman, so doubtless it may be again.
To eradicate our passions, to annihilate the
strong perceptions of pleasure and pain, and to
preserve apathy under severe afflictions, would be
WS
SELF-CONTROL.
237
impossible, if it were desired, and not to be desired,
if it were possible. “It is not right," says the
excellent Pascal, “ that we should remain without
pain or grief, under the afflictions which befall us,
like angels, who are above the sentiments of our
nature; neither is it right that we should indulge
grief without consolation, like heathen, who have
no sentiments of grace. But we ought both to
mourn and to be comforted like Christians; the
consolations of grace should rise superior to the
feelings of nature, so that grace may not only
dwell in, but be victorious over us.” To be de-
void of emotion is not required by the Author of
our being. The sympathies of this state of sor-
row would be but faintly exhibited, the duties that
depend upon the affections but feebly performed,
were a system of stoicism established. But so to
temper the discordant principles of our nature,
that they disturb not the harmony of society, so
to rule its stormy elements, that they make not
shipwreck of the soul, is a practicable science.
It has been urged, as a reproach to our sex, that
we were prone to be discomposed by trifles. Our
business is among trifles. Household occupations,
to men engrossed by the sublime sciences, seem a
tissue of trifles. Yet, as “trifles make the sum
of human things," so the comfort of a family is
affected by the touching, or not touching, many
minute springs, which, like “a wheel within a
wheel," are of secret operation, but essential
238
SELF-CONTROL.
importance. Susceptible as we are, by our original
construction, and often rendered more so by deli-
cate health, or nervous temperament, trivial obsta-
cles are sometimes encountered with less calmness
than severe adversities. Our danger from slight
causes of irritation is obvious. So also is the
remedy. Suffer not the heart to be fixed on trifles.
If our sphere of action comprises them, there is
no reason why they should destroy our capacity
for enjoyment. Supply the thoughts with nobler
subjects of contemplation. When the little angry
billows beat against the bark, look aloft. The pole-
star never varies. The pilot is always the same.
Those who are desirous to attain self-control,
must avoid the indulgence of whatever disorders
the equilibrium of the mind. They should never
be in a hurry. This is not only ungraceful, and
uncomfortable to others, but often subversive of
the end in view. It has been long acknowledged,
by observers of human nature, that those who are
most frequently in a hurry perform the least.
They overthrow their own plans, and the mind
which loses its balance, like a planet, forsaking
its sphere, disconcerts the orbit of others, and runs
wild into the realm of disorder.
Because woman is deficient in physical strength,
it does not follow that she need be in moral
courage. Many examples might be cited to prove
that she is not. Passive and patient endurance
has been often so naturalized, as to seem indi-
SELF-CONTROL.
239
genous. Instances of intrepidity might also be
adduced, which has conquered the most formid-
able difficulties and dangers. When Queen Chris-
tina was once visiting some ships of war that
were building at Stockholm, a circumstance oc-
curred which revealed her presence of mind in
danger. While crossing a narrow plank, con-
ducted by the oldest admiral, in consequence of a
false step, he fell, and drew her with him, into
water nearly a hundred feet in depth. Some of
the first nobles of the realm, plunging in, she was
rescued. The moment her head was raised above
the sea, entirely forgetful of herself, she said,
“ Take care of the admiral.” On being brought to
shore, she testified no agitation, but having been
expected to dine in public that day, did so, with
perfect calmness of manner, and her usual degree
of animation.
Another instance shows still more fully her
admirable self-control. An assassin, lurking in
the vicinity of the court, had determined to take
away her life. Disordered in intellect, he laid his
plan both with the cunning and rashness of insanity.
He sought the queen during divine service in the
chapel, and waited for the moment when, according
to the ritual of the Swedish church, the act of
recollection is performed. Then every member of
the congregation, kneeling and covering the face
with the hand, engages in silent and separate de-
votion. Rushing through the crowd, and striking
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SELF-CONTROL.
aside the guards, who crossed their partisans at
his approach, he leaped the barrier that divided
him from the queen, and aimed a deadly blow at
her with a knife. His design was prevented,
and he was seized and borne away. Christina,
fixing her eyes upon him calmly for a moment,
returned to her devotions, and no subsequent
emotion testified that her life had been in danger.
Firmness and magnanimity are not often thus
tested in woman, but history has connected with
her, many illustrations of that moral courage
which rises with opposing circumstances, and turns
even adversity to advantage.
During the troubles that convulsed the reign
of Henry VI. of England, Margaret, his queen,
having adventured her life to rescue her captive
husband, was flying after defeat in battle. She
found herself in the midst of a thick forest in
Scotland, not knowing whither to direct her course.
Amid thick darkness, that would have terrified one
less heroic, and fatigue that must have exhausted
every spirit but that of a mother, she sustained in
her arms her only son, Prince Edward, who had
sunk from weariness and want of food. The almost
impervious wood was infested by bold and relent-
less robbers. A band of them, starting from their
hiding-places, seized the royal fugitive, and plun-
dered her of the jewels, on which alone she
depended for subsistence. Still, preserving her
presence of mind, she meditated the means of
SELF-CONTROL.
241
escape. Perceiving them to be on the verge of a
quarrel about a division of the treasure, she waited
until they were engaged in contention, and then,
with her child, plunged into the pathless forest.
Suddenly from a dark thicket, a gigantic robber
approached her, with a drawn sword. By the con.
cealed light that he bore, she saw a countenance
grim and dead to pity. Raising her spirits to the
fearful occasion, she held towards him the young
prince, and with a serene and commanding voice,
said, “Here, my friend, save the son of your king !"
Awed by her majesty, and subdued by an unwonted
appeal to his generosity, he knelt at her feet, took
in his arms the sacred charge entrusted to him,
and by his aid, Margaret being enabled to reach
the coast, safely embarked for Flanders.
Patience in sickness, and the power of physical
endurance, have been conceded to our sex. They
have also repeatedly exemplified a noble fortitude
under afflictions of the heart. Illustrations might
be gathered from the pages of history, and one
which has been to me peculiarly touching, is that
of Lady Russell. Though, from your acquaintance
with the history of England, you are doubtless
familiar with it, you will allow me the gratification
of recurring to it. When her husband, Lord
William Russell, distinguished for patriotism and
virtue, was arraigned by the turbulence and tyranny
which marked a part of the reign of Charles II.,
and stood on his trial for life, he was inhumanly
R
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7
refused the benefit of counsel. All that he could
obtain was permission for an amanuensis to assist
him in taking notes. Immediately his wife came
to his side with her pen, serene and self-possessed,
to aid him in that last extremity. When the
daughter of the noble Earl of Southampton, the
favourite of the people, was seen performing this
painful service for her lord, a murmur of the
deepest sympathy and indignation arose from that
assembly. After his unjust condemnation, when
she came to take her last farewell in prison,
though her tenderness for him was inexpressible,
she controlled the expression of grief, lest she
might discompose the soul that she loved, while it
stood on the solemn verge of eternity. When
she had departed, the sentenced nobleman said,
“Now the bitterness of death is past;" and pre-
pared himself for the scaffold with Christian
heroism.
There are many instances where the heart rules
its agony, that difficult duty may be firmly dis-
charged, which no splendour of rank renders
illustrious, and no historian's tablet records. The
noble principles which actuated this illustrious
lady may operate in obscurity and poverty, where
the soul, unsustained by sympathy, uncheered by
human applause, depends solely on itself, and on
its God. An incident of recent occurrence exhibits
strong fortitude, though differently illustrated.
One of the small islands in Boston Bay was
S
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13
SELF-CONTROL.
243
inhabited by a single poor family. The father was
taken suddenly sick. There was no physician.
The wife, on whom every labour for the household
devolved, was sleepless in care and tenderness by
the bed of her suffering husband. Every remedy
in her power to procure was administered, but the
disease was acute, and he died. Seven young
children mourned around the lifeless corpse. They
were the sole beings upon that desolate spot. Did
the mother indulge the grief of her spirit, and sit
down in despair? No. She entered upon the
arduous and sacred duties of her station. There
was no hand to aid her in burying her dead. Pro-
viding, as far as possible, for the comfort of her little
ones, she put the babe into the arms of the oldest,
and charging the two next in age to watch the
corpse of their father, unmoored her husband's
fishing boat, which but two days before he had
guided over the sea to obtain food for his family.
She dared not yield to those tender recollections
that might have unnerved her arm. The nearest
island was at the distance of three miles. Strong
winds lashed the waters to foam. Over the loud
billows, that wearied and sorrowful woman rowed,
and was preserved. She reached the next island,
and obtained necessary aid. With such energy
did her duty to her desolate babes inspire her,
that the voyage, which depended on her individual
effort, was performed in a shorter period than the
returning one, when the oars were managed by two
..
&
EDIT
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244
SELF-CONTROL.
men, who went to assist in the last offices for the
dead.
Instances of fortitude might be gathered from
almost every rank and station, at home and abroad.
Still it is not for calamities of great magnitude,
such as fill the public eye with sympathy, that
our sex are frequently summoned to prepare them-
selves: it is rather to bear with serene patience
the lesser ills of life, and to evince the uniform
guidance of correct principles and dispositions, in
the sheltered province of domestic duty.
In our sex, there is a pliancy of mental, as well
as physical organization, which readily adapts
itself to change of situation. Thus it is almost
involuntary for them to perform that important
class of duties, which console and animate those
whom they love under reverses or sorrows.
The most refined minds have sometimes dis-
played this magnanimity in the greatest promi-
nence. “O what a comfort !” exclaimed the
accomplished Elizabeth Smith, when after the
failure of the bank, which had reduced them from
affluence to poverty, she followed the fortunes of
her father, and quitting a beautiful mansion and
endeared society, entered the rude barracks which
had been provided for the family in Ireland.
“ Comfort !” said her mother, " there seems none
left for us."-"O yes," replied she, “sweetest,
dearest mother, see, here is a little cupboard."
The matron acknowledged herself reproved by the
.
SELF-CONTROL.
245
bright smile of that angel-spirit, which would have
called forth verdure and beauty amid the most
parched and dreary pilgrimage of life.
How often amid the wilds of this western world
has the cheering smile of the wife or daughter sus-
tained the desponding emigrant! How often have
they forgotten their own privations, in the labours
which procured comfort for others !
Among the many females who have encountered
the hardships inseparable from the establishment
of a new colony, was one, who half a century since,
removed with her husband, and the young germs of
their household, to the distant and unsettled
American prairies. Their journey led over moun-
tains, and through morasses and entangled thickets,
where the only path was a rude trace, cut by the
axe. A strong vehicle, drawn by oxen, conveyed
their simple furniture and scanty food. The wife and
mother often proceeded on foot. Her first-born, a
boy of ten years old, was sickly, and seemed rather
like a denizen of the grave, than a hardy pioneer
of the unplanted world. She was strengthened to
bear him for a part of the way in her arms, or
elinging to her shoulders, and to comfort his sad
heart with hymns when they halted to rest.
In a solitary spot, they formed their habitation
of rough logs, and covered it with hemlock bark.
Its floor was of earth, and they had no windows
of glass through which to admit the cheering beam
of heaven. The mistress of that poor dwelling
246
SELF-CONTROL.
1
exerted herself, by neatness, order, and unvarying
cheerfulness of manner, to lead its inmates to
forget their many privations. She did not sadly
contrast it with the lighted halls, and carpets, and
sofas, and vases of breathing flowers, among which
she had spent her youth ; nor with the circles of
elegance and refinement which she had loved, and
where she had been beloved in return. She made
herself happy among the hard duties which became
the wife of a lowly emigrant. Reverses of fortune
had made this removal necessary, and she would
not repine.
Through the day she laboured, and the carol of
her frequent song rose up strangely sweet from the
bosom of that deep wilderness. At evening, she
assembled her children, and instructed them. She
could not bear that ignorance should be their por-
tion; and diligently poured into their minds the
knowledge which she had treasured up in her own.
They early learned to love the few books that she
possessed, and to revere that piety which was the
source of their parent's happiness.
Years fled, and the features of the savage
landscape assumed the busy cast of a vigorous
settlement. Children, and children's children,
grew up, and planted themselves around her like
the stems of the banian. More than fourscore
years passed over her, yet she remained firm, use-
ful, contented, and wearing on her countenance
the same smile which had lighted her through the
1
SELF-CONTROL.
247
world. Her descendants of the third generation
became equal in number to the years of her own
life. She loved all, and every one heard from her
lips the teachings of wisdom and the law of peace.
Amid all the sorrows of her pilgrimage, she had
cherished, next to her trust in Heaven, the hope of
once more revisiting the home of her birth. To this
desire, every passing year seemed to bring some
new obstacle, yet she murmured not. Indeed, the
wish seldom escaped her lips, save in tearful prayer,
and mingled with the petition, “ Thy will be done.''
When her head became white, with the snows of
many years, this ardent hope was not cold in her
heart. The green hills of her childhood grew
brighter and dearer to memory, as she approached
the land whence no traveller returns.
At length, death came for her, and age drew a
misty curtain over all surrounding things. The
love of her first, far home, the unfulfilled hope to
visit it, the most deep-set earthly images in her
soul, faded away with all their pictured scenery.
The paternal mansion, its sweet flower-garden, and
music of falling waters--the school-house-the
white spire among the elms-images from child-
hood, so indelible, were no longer remembered.
Her children gathering in tears around her bed,
found themselves also forgotten. Yet they heard
softly murmured from the dying pillow, that petition
which from early years had been the breath of her
soul, “ Thy will be done,” And even when death
248
SELF-CONTROL.
smote her, still burst forth in trembling intona-
tion of trust and tenderness, “ Thy will be done."
The first effectual step towards self-government,
is self-knowledge. The lawgiver who would adapt
his code to the happiness of a people, must inform
himself of their history and habits, their dangers,
and resources. The physician should know some-
thing of the constitution of his patient, as well as
of the symptoms of disease, ere he can safely
assume the responsibility of his cure. And you,
dear young friends, who would be adepts in the
science of self-control, must not only take a general
view of the infirmities of your nature, but of your
individual weaknesses, your prejudices and temp-
tations. Inquire what has been the source of the
prevailing errors, which have hitherto marked your
life. Daily pursue the investigation, until you are
intimate with your own peculiarities and motives
of conduct. Nightly converse with yourself, ere
you retire to rest. Thus will you learn where to
apply the check, the remedy, the encouragement;
and with rational hope of success, mark out the
path in which you are to travel, and the points
where you may indulge repose.
· Too high an opinion of our merits, and the diffi-
culty of inspiring others with a similar opinion,
is a source of continual uneasiness. Pride is the
ancient enemy of self-control. It is disquieted at
seeing others the objects of a deference and regard,
of which it imagines itself to be more worthy.
1
SELF-CONTROL.
249
Grieved and offended, it raises envy and jealousy,
who wait in its train, and a mutiny begins. So
the mind, which ought to settle and subside, that
the powers which have a right to rule within it
may rise to their just degrees of ascendency, be-
comes like the “ troubled sea, which cannot rest."
Humility is the antidote of such evils. As those
who have taken the widest range in knowledge,
perceive untravelled regions beyond them, to which
the “ little hour-glass of man's life" is not adequate;
so those who have gained the highest ascents in
true wisdom, are disposed to take the lowest place
at the footstool of God. Sir Francis Bacon, in a
devout address to the Almighty, preserved among
his manuscripts, says: “Ever when I have ascended
before men, I have descended in humiliation before
Thee." The great Boerhaave, so distinguished
by the attainment of the most serene self-command,
was so profoundly humble, that when he heard of
any criminal condemned to execution, he would
exclaim, “Who can tell, whether this man is not
better than I? Or if I am better, it is not to be
ascribed to myself, but to the goodness of God.”
The celebrated Elizabeth Smith, whom we have
already recently mentioned, --whose short life was
an unvaried scene of virtue, whose industry van-
quished many obstacles to obtain the knowledge
of nine languages, and whose translations from the
Hebrew and German were the wonder of the
learned,-gained such an intimate acquaintance with
A
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250
SELF-CONTROL.
her nature, and so entire a victory over it, that
her distinguishing feature was humility. She was
sweetly characterised, as
“Still unobtrusive, serious, and meek,
The first to listen, and the last to speak.”
Self-government is promoted by correct views
of life. She who considers it a state where ac-
complishments will always ensure admiration, and
merit receive full reward, where it is necessary
only to embark on the “smooth surface of a sum-
mer sea," and gain the port, amid the applauses of
favouring spectators, will discover that fancy and
fiction have deluded her. She who imagines that
its duties may be easily discharged, or their per-
formance always appreciated—that virtue will have
no foes to resist, and unalloyed happiness flourish
in a congenial soil-will find that she has mistaken
a state of trial for a state of reward. She who
expects entire consistency from those around, and
is astonished that they sometimes misunderstand
and grieve her, should look deeper into her own
heart, and inquire, why she exacts from others a
perfection which she has not herself attained. Be
not satisfied, my dear young friends, until you
have gained that equanimity which is not depressed
or elated by slight causes ; that dignity which de-
scends neither to trifle, nor to be trifled with ; and
that perseverance in the pursuit of excellence,
which presses onward and upward, as an eagle
toward the sun.
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SELF-CONTROL.
251
“ The highest and most profitable learning,"
says Thomas à Kempis, " is the knowledge of our-
selves. To have a low opinion of our own merits,
and to think highly of others, is an evidence of
wisdom. Therefore, though thou seest another
openly offend, and commit sin, take thence no oc-
casion to value thyself for superior goodness, since
thou canst not tell how long thou wilt be able to
persevere in the narrow path of virtue. All men
are frail, but thou shouldest reckon none so frail
as thyself.”
No self-government is perfect without religion :
for there are agents within us, whose force we
may fail to estimate, and which springing sud-
denly into action, may destroy the fabric on which
philosophy has laboured for years. Since, therefore,
we have not the gift of prescience, and cannot
measure the future by the past, is it not safest to
rely for aid on the Former of our bodies, the
Father of our spirits, who hath said, “If any lack
wisdom, and ask of him, he giveth liberally, and
upbraideth not ?"
Let us rest our self-control on the belief that He
is able to do all things that He will do all things
well-that even evil shall work for the good of
those who love him that nothing can divide us
from his care-and that death need not terrify
those who have the passport to a happy immor-
tality. sk
LETTER XVII.
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
It was a king of Sparta, who counselled that
the young should learn what they would have
most occasion to practise when they attained
maturity. We praise his wisdom; yet recede from
its guidance. Especially is female education defi-
cient in its adaptation of means to ends. And
yet, our province is so eminently practical, that to
disjoin acquisition from utility, seems a greater
mistake, a more irreparable misfortune, than for
the other sex to adopt a desultory system. I
Man lives in the eye of the world. He seeks
much of his solace from its applause. If unsuc-
cessful in one profession, he enters another. If
his efforts are frustrated in his native land, he
becomes the citizen of a foreign clime. He makes
his home on the tossing wave, or traverses earth
from pole to pole. His varieties of situation give
scope for varieties of knowledge, and call into
action energies and attainments, which might
either have lain dormant, or been considered of
I
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
253
little value. It is not thus with woman. Her
sphere of quiet duty requires a more quiet training.
Its scenery has few changes, and no audience to
applaud. It asks the aid of fixed principles,
patiently drawn out into their natural, unostenta-
tious results.
There was in past times much discussion re-
specting the comparative intellect of the sexes.
It seems to have been useless. To strike the
balance is scarcely practicable, until both shall
have been subjected to the same method of culture.
Man might be initiated into the varieties and mys-
teries of needlework, taught to have patience with
the feebleness and waywardness of infancy, or to
steal, with noiseless step, around the chamber of
the sick; and woman might be instigated to con-
tend for the palm of science, to pour forth elo-
quence in senates, or to “wade through fields of
slaughter, to a throne.” Yet revoltings of the
soul would attend this violence of nature, this
abuse of physical and intellectual energy, while
the beauty of social order would be defaced, and
the fountains of earth's felicity broken up. The
sexes are manifestly intended for different spheres,
and constructed in conformity to their respective
destinations, by Him who bids the Arctic pine
brave the fury of the tempest, and the timid flower
lean its cheek and draw its bloom from the bosom
of Alpine snows. But disparity need not imply
inferiority; and she of the weak hand and the
254
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
strong heart, is as deeply accountable for what she
has received, as clearly within the cognizance of
the "Great Task-Master's eye,” as though the
high places of the earth, with all their pomp and
glory, awaited her ambition, or laid their trophies
at her feet.
Females who turn their existence to no good
account, contradict the intention of their Creator.
They frustrate both his bounty and their felicity.
Public opinion has not been sufficiently distinct, in
its reproofs of their aimless life. It has been held
derogatory to the dignity of those who are in the
possession of wealth, to understand the more
humble departments of domestic industry. Hence,
their exceeding helplessness, when by the fluctua-
tions of fortune, or the common accidents of life,
they are thrown upon their own resources. Their
miserable imbecility, in times of trial, has brought
that odium upon education itself, which only be-
longs to ill-directed education, or to a sentiment of
false shame, which should be early rooted out.
Useful occupations ought not to be discouraged by
the contempt of those who are not obliged to
pursue them for a livelihood. In the ancient re-
publics, the diligence of our sex was honourable.
Franklin had probably in his mind some model,
depicted by the historians and poets of another age,
when he said, " I would much rather see a spinning-
wheel than a piano--a shuttle than a parasol-a
knitting-needle than a visiting-card.” Perhaps
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MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
255
he detected, even in his own times of greater sim-
plicity, a love of indolence, or display, lurking in
the hearts of his fair countrywomen. Perhaps he
reasoned, as a political economist, for the good of
his country. In either case, the opinion of so
shrewd a philosopher is worthy of some regard.
Those employments which tend, evidently, to the
comforts or necessities of existence, are least en-
cumbered with the principle of vanity.
Ladies who have attained eminence as in-
structors, have ever early endeavoured to impress
on the mind of their pupils the excellence of
connecting their attainments with utility. An
experienced teacher, whose persevering aim to
improve her own sex has been blessed with success,
expresses her desire that;“ some plan of education
should be offered to wealth and rank, by which
female youth might be preserved from contempt of
useful labour; and so accustomed to it, in con-
junction with the high objects of literature and the
elegant pursuits of the fine arts, both as from habit
and association to regard it as respectable.”
Would that I might succeed in persuading you,
my young friends, to strive that all your attain-
ments should minister to the happiness of others,
as well as your own. Scrutinize the motives that
prompt you to excel either in the sciences, or
arts of embellishment. Is it that you may take
precedence of your associates ?-or win empty
adulation? The antidote for this malady is to do
256
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
nothing, say nothing, be nothing, merely from the
prompting of vanity, but for the sake of your
own radical improvement, or the mental elevation
and innocent enjoyment of those among whom
your lot is cast.
The principle of display should be, as far as
possible, disjoined from female education. Until
this is attempted, the domestic sphere can scarcely
be rationally or prosperously filled, nor will those
duties be well discharged which a republic im-
periously demands of its daughters. The greatest
danger arises from what we call accomplishments.
At first view, it seems ill-judged to devote so much
time to what must be laid aside when the cares of
maturity assert their dominion; yet if in their
progress they have exerted aught of beneficial
influence on the character, if they have served to
soften, to refine, or sublimate the feelings, it is
a severe philosophy that would condemn them.
Let us bring some of them to the test. When
you sing, or take a seat at the piano, inquire
whether you expect praise, or are chagrined if you
do not obtain it? whether you imposed a fatiguing
quarantine of urgency ere you would expose your
performance ? or whether you were content to
soothe and enliven other spirits as well as your
own, with those strains of melody, whose percep-
tion is a source of bliss both to earth and heaven?
In dancing, is your object to be admired, or do
you seek healthful exercise, or improvement in
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
257
courtesy and grace ? for grace of movement, or as
it has been happily styled, " the poetry of motion,"
is of no slight import in woman. Like fine manners,
it aids in winning that influence, which she should
consecrate to far higher purposes than personal
vanity. For your skill in drawing, do you claim
elaborate praise ? or are you pleased simply to
illustrate nature? to embody historical truth? or
to catch the intelligence of living features? The
taste that appreciates the beautiful in nature or in
art, is a friend to refinement and religion: and often
has the tender soul, by the beauty and glory of
creation, been bowed in adoration of the Creator.
But if the tendency of accomplishments is
sometimes uncertain, if even their process of self-
examination is difficult, from the disguises which
vanity assumes, the solid studies are subject to
no such ambiguity. The patient labours of thought
and demonstration, the wonders of the orb that we
inhabit, the varied annal of man's way from “Eden
to this hour," the mysterious mechanism of the
frame that modifies the ethereal mind, the structure
of that intellect which bears the stamp of im-
mortality, the awful order of the starry heavens,
impart a discipline as obvious as salutary, and
help to prepare for high destinies both human
and divine.
With the wealth of knowledge, combine another
source of profit, the habit of imparting it. This
increases mental wealth, by putting it in circula-
+
258
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
tion. A merchant would be defective in his pro-
fession, who should allow his profits to remain
unemployed. He might merge his own character
in that of a miser, and pine with poverty in the
midst of abundance. I have no hesitation in pro-
nouncing the labour of instruction more beneficial
to the teacher than even to the pupil. If a young
lady, when her term of school-education is com-
pleted, should devote a period to the instruction of
others, she would find the advantage, not only in
the depth, confirmation, and readiness for use,
which would enhance the value of her knowledge,
but in that acquaintance with human nature,
power of self-command, and reaction of moral
training upon herself, which is above all price.
It is peculiarly important that our sex should
have their knowledge deeply rooted in memory
during youth. The absorbing nature of those cares
which fill their province in maturity, are wont to
forbid profound intellectual researches, or wide ex-
cursions into the realms of science. Their attention
will be preoccupied by those duties, which springing
from the affections, overpower the claims of in-
tellect; as the banian, ever striking new roots in
earth, shuts from the sun the plants that once
flourished on the same soil. Necessary knowledge
should therefore be thoroughly acquired in youth.
It should be secured as a capital for life, an annuity
not to be reversed. It should be able to bear the
overshadowing of those germs which, drawing
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MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
259
nutriment from the heart, spring up with the
rapidity of the mushroom, and the height and
vigour of the cedar of Lebanon.
Another argument in favour of making the
instruction of others the crowning point of edu-
cation, is derived from those sentiments of bene-
volence, which, if not inherent in our sex, should
be cultivated until they become an integral part of
character. The more solid and laborious studies,
by their direct discipline on the mind, have a visible
individual utility. Yet we should not be satisfied
with this, or with any other good which centres
solely in self. A selfish woman is more unendurable,
and really more blameable than a selfish man.
She more palpably contradicts the will of her
Maker. She must of necessity be unhappy. For
in proportion to her concentration of enjoyment in
self alone, and her exaction of the efforts of others
to that end, will be her disappointment and weari-
ness of spirit. She is bound to exert herself to
diffuse her knowledge; and to consider its acquisi-
tion as imposing a twofold responsibility, to enjoy
and to impart.
Admit it, therefore, as equally the vocation and
the privilege of our sex to be teachers of good
things. Even where the advantages of regular
classical culture have been denied, the requisites
of a useful instructor may be obtained by a per-
severing regimen. Self-educated people often excel
in the power of imparting knowledge, as those
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MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
who find out their own path, take better note of
its helps and hindrances. Those who have con-
quered obstacles by their own unassisted strength,
are good pioneers in the realm of knowledge.
As they were not borne thither in a chariot, they
will not be apt to foster in others that listless
waiting for a "royal way," which ends where it
began. They are often eminently successful in
awakening energy in their pupils, from having
fully learned its value themselves. They are well
qualified to point out, and to explain difficulties,
and to have fellow-feeling for those who grapple
with them: as the man who acquires a fortune,
better knows its worth than he who simply inherits
a patrimony.
There is a pleasure in teaching--the high plea-
sure of seeing others made better, and of inspiring
their gratitude. There is not a more interesting
circumstance in the life of Madame de Genlis than
her fondness for instructing, when only in her
eighth year, the poor little children who gathered
around the chateau of her father. They came
thither to gather rushes and to play, and she,
leaning from the window of her apartment, as-
siduously taught them the catechism, the principles
of music, and to repeat poetry. “This," she
simply expresses it," was all I then knew myself."
So much engaged did she become in this kind
office, that she was accustomed to let herself down
by a cord, from the open casement of her chamber,
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
261
21
a distance of several feet, to the terrace, that she
might be nearer the ignorant group whom she was
anxious to improve. “My little scholars," she says,
"ranged along the wall below me, amidst reeds
and rushes, looked up and listened to me with the
most profound attention." What a subject for a
painter! This beautiful and zealous teacher, of
eight years of age, indulged also her benevolence,
by distributing among her pupils such rewards of
merit as she could purchase, with her own pocket-
money, passing in this favourite employment all
that part of the day in which her governess, being
engaged in writing, suffered her to follow her own
inclinations. What stronger proof of an amiable
and benevolent nature could be given than this
uninfluenced, unapplauded devotedness, in early
childhood, of its hour of play and the contents of
its purse, to the encouragement of neglected and
miserable villagers ?
If some young lady of education and affluence
could be induced to devote a portion of her time to
the work of teaching, she would help to remove from
it, the odium of being always a mercenary profession.
I knew one who, moving in the highest grade of
society, elevated by genius, and a classic and refined
education, would have consecrated all her powers
and sources of influence, to the work of instruction.
The desire was not hastily imbibed. She had
cherished it from childhood, alleging as a reason,
the belief that "she could in that way be more
Soucation, of in
et
262
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
useful than in any other.” In the bloom of youth,
surrounded with all that could render it delightful,
she writes, “I can think of no pleasanter or more
useful way of spending life, than in teaching. I
have not made this decision suddenly. I have
pondered it in my mind, and determined, as soon
as I shall have learned enough, to fix myself as a
teacher.” But she was suddenly removed, where
there was no need that she should either teach or
be taught, save in the science of angels.
Patriotism requires that every effort in our
power be made for the good of our country. Look
at Prussia, that model for national education, where
a teacher is provided for every ten of her children,
Among the many laws of the late king, making
provision for the instruction of his realm, moral
and religious training take precedence of intellec-
tual; and it is truly delightful to hear the voice of
a monarch enforcing the precept that “the first
vocation of every school is to train up the young
in such a manner as to implant in their minds a
knowledge of the relation of man to God, and at
the same time to excite and foster both the will
and the strength to govern their lives after the
spirit and precepts of Christianity.” The Normal
schools, or those established for the education of
teachers, are nurseries of every virtuous habit. A
brief extract from the regulations of those which
exist in the obscure villages of Lustadie and Pyritz,
evinces a spirit of earnest and unaffected piety:
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MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
263
* This is intended to be a Christian school, founded
in the spirit of the Gospel. It aspires to resemble a
village household of the simplest kind, and to unite
its members into one family. The piety which it
enforces is to be known by purity of manners-by
sincerity in word and deed—by love of God and of
his word-by love of our neighbour-by willing
obedience to superiors and masters-by brotherly
harmony among the pupils. A thorough know-
ledge of the duties of a teacher is acquired by long
study of the principles and elements--by learning
what is necessary and really useful in that vocation
by habits of reflection and voluntary labour-by
constant application to lessons-by incessant repe-
tition and practice-by regular industry, and well
ordered activity, according to the commandment,
'pray and work.""
- Their whole fabric rests on the sacred basis of
Christian love,” says M. Cousin, to whom we are
indebted for a luminous investigation of the system
of instruction in Prussia ; and who, by his zeal
in the cause of education, has won a more il-
lustrious distinction than that of philosopher,
statesman, or peer.
There is still another point in which the schools
of Prussia may be cited as examples. Education
is there imparted, not as the instrument of restless
ambition or worldly advancement, but as the means
of patient usefulness and contentment with the
lot which Heaven has appointed. With us, the
..
*
"
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264
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
maxim that “knowledge is power," seems to have
received the grosser interpretation, that it is money
also. There, to use the words of the accomplished
lady by whom this Report of National Instruction
is translated, "the unfailing ends of a good educa-
tion are the gentle and kindly sympathies--the
sense of self-respect, and of the respect of fellow-
men--the free exercise of the intellectual faculties
the power of regulating the habits and the busi-
ness of life, so as to extract the greatest possible
portion of comfort, out of small means--the re-
fining and tranquillizing enjoyment of the beautiful
in nature and art, and the kindred perception of
the beauty and nobility of virtue-the strengthen-
ing consciousness of duty fulfilled, and to crown the
whole, that 'peace which passeth all understand-
ing.'”
Should any of my readers inquire why I have
indulged in such digressions, I have no apology to
offer. The importance of education, and the
desire to persuade my sex to become almoners of
its blessings, merit more space than I have appro-
priated, and more eloquence than I can command.
If you have a love of the country that gave you
birth, my dear young friends,--and if you have not
your code both of virtues and affections is most im-
perfect, are you not willing for a season to devote
yourself to the culture of her children, as some
remuneration for the privilege of dwelling safely
under her auspices? Will you not at least become
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MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
265
the instructor of all in your own family, who may
be made better by your influence? Will you not
teach through your own example, the happiness
that goodness and piety convey, the gracefulness
they impart, the assimilation they give to angelic
natures, and thus win all hearts to your tutelage ?
Our sex, in point of situation, have facilities as
teachers, which are not possessed by the other.
Political prejudices, and the asperities of religious
controversy, sometimes fetter the operations of
men, and obstruct their access to the mind. On
this debatable ground, woman is not supposed to
stand. A young lady, perhaps more effectually
than any other character, has power to cast the oil
of kindness upon the waters of discord. Her
locality need not be obstructed or circumscribed
by the quickset-hedge of party jealousies. She
may gather the lambs that wander, and no lion will
lay waste her fold. That she will not decline this
hallowed service, is already promised by one who
has for many years consecrated distinguished in-
tellect, acquirements and piety, to the successful
instruction of youth. “Let the statistics of the
wants of our country be sent abroad," she says,
“let the cry go forth, Whom shall we send, and
who will go for us? and from amid the green hills
and white villages of New England, hundreds of
voices would respond, 'Here am I, send me;' while
kindred voices, through the whole length of the
land, would echo the reply.”
by the other the u. That
266
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
A lady of education and refinement was led by
the tide of emigration to a western home. She
determined to keep constantly in view the diffusion
of intelligence and morality, in the community
where her lot was cast. By the rapid growth,
peculiar to this new world, a wilderness suddenly
became a thriving settlement. When she was
released from the absorbing cares connected with
the nurture of an infant family, she resolved to
devote more time to the instruction of others.
Her husband kindly encouraging the noble design,
built her a school-house in their garden. Thither
she gathered the young, and taught them to be
useful and happy. From such as were able,
she received the usual stipend of tuition, and de-
voted it to the purchase of a library for the school,
or to valuable books, intended as parting tokens
for exemplary pupils. Even from the poor, she
took some compensation, that they might not feel
humbled by too much inequality, though it was
more than returned to them, in the form of gifts
adapted to stimulate their progress in improve-
ment. She paid particular attention to the in-
struction of those, who were likely to be employed
as teachers of village-schools. Her daughters, as
they rose around her, caught the same hallowed
zeal, and were anxious to instruct in various
departments; and the good devised and wrought
out by this “ mother in Israel,” will doubtless be
felt by unborn generations.
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MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
267
I venture to propose that some young lady, in
the enjoyment of affluence, should perform the
noble charity of instructing, or causing to be in-
structed, ten of her own sex, until they shall, in
their turn, be qualified to instruct others. No
costly endowment need be connected with an esta-
blishment of this nature. The pupils might pro-
bably be gathered in the immediate vicinity.
If they have received the common rudiments of
education, two or three hours of personal attend-
ance daily, with, perhaps, the care of a substitute
for two or three more, would, with the adoption of
a judicious system, prepare, in the course of three
years, a class of profitable teachers, for elementary
schools, and even for higher departments. Why
need any formidable expense be involved in such
an arrangement? If some of the recipients were
able to pay a small price for tuition, it might aid
in the purchase of books for their use. If they
were not, the bounty of our land is never invoked
in vain. The author of the “ Annals of Educa-
tion" says: “We hope, ere long, to see associations
of females, engaged in supporting and preparing
those of their own sex for the office of teacher.
Recent calculations in a city of England, have led
to the belief, that the efforts of one female in a
benevolent object were equivalent to those of thir-
teen of the other sex."
The preparation of competent teachers for our
village-schools, would be a lasting benefit to the
268
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
country. The evil, in our remote districts, has
been incalculable, from illiterate teachers coming
in contact with the mind in its season of early de-
velopment and indelible impression. Would it
be beneath the notice of a lady to bestow some
systematic instruction on such young females as
are destined to assist in the domestic care of little
children, and in whom moral integrity, correct
language and manners, and a sense of re-
ligious obligation, have a deeper value and wider
influence, than would be readily conceded or
imagined ?
But I would not prescribe the particular forms
in which benevolent young ladies, having the com-
mand of time, knowledge or wealth, may subserve
the cause of happiness and virtue. Their own
ingenuity and the circumstances in which they are
placed, will best define the channels where their
bounty may flow. Still if they would adopt
teaching as their charity, and give to it regularly
and laboriously, some portion of every day, it need
not interfere with other employments and pleasures.
Even if it should curtail some amusement in which
youth delights, their payment will be in the gold
of conscience, in those radiant and priceless memo-
ries, that visit the death-bed. If it prove a self-
denial, it will be a glorious one. And when they
stand before that bar, where all shall be summoned,
if it appear that one fellow-being has been snatched
from vice, or fortified in virtue, or anchored on
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.
MOTIVES TO USEFULNESS.
26
the “ Rock of salvation,” through their instruc-
tions, what can the world which shall be burned
as a scroll, or all the glory thereof, which shall
vanish as a vision, offer in exchange for such a
testimony?
I
LETTER XVIII.
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
We are impelled, my dear young friends, to
higher degrees of intellectual and moral effort, by
the continually advancing character of the age in
which we live. It does not permit the mind to
slumber at its post, with any hope of regaining a
respectable rank in the career of knowledge. Its
literary gymnasium has no dormitories. It stamps
with deficiency, what was considered a good edu-
cation, twenty, or even ten years since. She who
was then held accomplished, if she has remained
content with early attainments, will find herself
painfully surpassed by the spirit of the times.
The usury of our day, does not permit the “ talent
to be long wrapped in a napkin." Those studies
which formerly marked the closing grade of edu-
cation, are now familiar to the infant scholar. So
much has knowledge divested itself of mystery
and of majesty, that “the sucking child plays
upon the hole of the asp, and the weaned child
puts his hand upon the cockatrice den.” Every
thing urges us onward, in the pilgrimage of mind.
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MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
271
The standard is constantly elevating itself, and she
who would not be left behind, must take pains to
maintain a corresponding elevation.
In the department of benevolence also, as well
as in that of intellect, there is an equally percep-
tible progress. Not many years since, the sphere
of missionary labour was first explored. Now
“its field is the world." The vast machinery, by
which the Scriptures are dispensed to heathen
climes, was then undiscovered and unimagined.
Many of those charities, which stoop to every
variety of human wretchedness, were either unborn
or in their infancy. Now the economy of charity
is unfolded to the young. The mightiest minds
simplify wisdom to the comprehension of children.
The bread of eternal life is mingled with the milk
of babes. Those who are newly entering upon
the stage of action stand upon vantage-ground, and
come enriched with the concentrated experience
of many generations.
Our individual privileges, as well as the ener-
getic character of the age, demand persevering
exertions. We are enriched with gifts to which
our ancestors were strangers. Our responsibilities
are proportionably great. The useful arithmetical
position, impressed in our childhood, that “more
requires more, and less requires less," admits of a
moral application. The temple of science has
been thrown open, and its sanctuary, so long
hidden from the eye of woman, unveiled. She is
invited to enter. In the olden time, our grand-
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272
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
.
mothers received instruction, in the uses of the
needle, the varieties of culinary science, and the
naked elements of piety. They were expected to
exhibit the knowledge drawn from these few
sources, in its most patient, persevering, practical
results. It would have been counted an “iniquity
to be punished by the judges," had they spoiled
their tent-stitch tapestry—or failed in the chemistry
of a pudding, or erred in the verbiage of their
catechism. Most faithful were they, in the few
things entrusted to their care. We who, in being
“made rulers over many things," are deeply in-
debted to the liberality of the age, have need of
quickened and zealous industry, to render a cor-
respondent return.
The shelter and protection of a free government
also demand awakened and grateful energies.
Since its welfare is involved in the virtue and
intelligence of its subjects, the character and
habits of every member of its great family are of
importance. I imagine that I hear from the lips
of some of the young and sprightly of my sex,
the inquiry,“ Why need we concern ourselves in
the affairs of politicians ?” “What share can we pos-
sibly have in the destinies of our country?" the same
share that the rill has in the rivulet, and the rivulet in
the sea. Should every little shaded streamlet tarry
at its fountain-head, where would be the river,
dispensing fertility ? the ocean, bearing commerce
and wealth upon its never-resting tide? Woman
possesses an agency which the ancient republic
*
2.
2
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MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
273
never discovered. The young fountains of the
mind are given in charge to her. She can tinge
them with sweetness or bitterness, ere they have
chosen the channels where to flow, or learned to
murmur their story to the time-worn pebbles.
Greece, that disciple and worshipper of wisdom,
neglected to appreciate the value of the feebler
sex, or to believe that they, who had the moulding of
the whole mass of mind in its first formation, might
help to infuse a principle of permanence into
national existence. Rome, in her wolf-nursed
greatness, in her “ fierce democracy," in the cor-
ruption of her imperial purple, despised the moral
strength that lay hidden under physical weakness.
But our country has conceded every thing ; the
blessings of education, the equality of companion-
ship, the luxury of benevolence, the confidence of
a culturer's office to those young buds of being, in
whom is her wealth and her hope. What does she
require of our sex, in return for these benefactions ?
Has she not a right to expect that we give our
hands to every cause of peace and truth-that we
nurse the plants of temperance and purity--that
we frown on every inroad of disorder and vice-
that we labour in all places where our lot may be
cast, as gentle teachers of wisdom and charity--and
that we hold ourselves, in domestic privacy, the
guardians of those principles which the sage defends
in the halls of legislation, and the priest of Jehovah
upon the walls of Zion?
274
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
Gratitude for the religion of Jesus Christ
should inspire an unwavering zeal. Beside the high
hope of salvation, which we share in common with
all who embrace the Gospel, our obligations to it,
as a sex, are peculiar and deep. It has broken
down the vassalage which was enforced even in the
most polished heathen climes. Its humility hath
persuaded men to give honour to the “ weaker
vessel.” The depressed condition of our sex in
classic Greece is familiar to all who read the
pages of history. Though her epic poet pourtrayed
in radiant colours an Andromache and a Penelope,
yet they were but the imagery of fiction, and the
situation of woman in real life was scarcely a
grade above that of a slave. Even in Athens, the
“ eye of Greece,” Thucydides, her most profound
and faithful historian, asserts, that “the best
woman is she of whom the least can be said, either
in the way of good or harm." Her degradation
into a cipher accords with their estimation of her
powers, and the place they intended her to fill in
creation. The brutality with which she is still
treated in pagan lands, and the miseries which
make her life a burden, cause her to deplore the
birth of a female infant, with the same unnatural
grief that the ancient Transi cherished, who, ac-
cording to Herodotus, " assembled to weep when
a child entered the world, on account of the evils
of that existence into which he was ushered; while
they celebrated funerals with joy, because the
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MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE
deceased was released from all human calamities.”
That policy, which, for ages, regarded women as
toys of fancy for a moment, and then slaves for
ever, so vile as to be shut from the consecrated
temple on earth, and so devoid of soul as to be
incapable of an entrance into heaven, is “abolished
by Him, who hath made both one, and broken
down the middle wall of partition between us.”
Double cause, then, hath woman to be faithful to
her Master; to be always longest at his cross and
earliest at his sepulchre. Let us earnestly strive
not to live altogether “to ourselves, but unto Him
who hath called us to glory and virtue."
By the shortness of life, we are also admonished
to perpetual industry. Where are those with
whom we took sweet counsel, who walked hand
in hand with us, beneath the sunbeams of youth's
cloudless morning? The haunts of the summer
ramble, the fireside-seats of winter's communion,
reply, “ They are not with us.” The grave answers
the question, “ They are here !” Doth it not also
add, in a hoarse and hollow murmur, “ Thou also
shalt be with me?" How often, in the registers of
mortality, do we see the date of the early smitten!
How often is the fair hand, that had plucked only
life's opening flowers, withdrawn from the grasp of
love, and stretched out in immoveable coldness!
How often is the unfrosted head laid down on a
mouldering pillow, to await the resurrection! The
firmest hold on time is like the frail rooting of the
276
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
1
WIU
flower of grass. The longest life has been likened,
by those who review it, to a dream, fleeting and
indistinct. The present moment is all of which
we have assurance. Let us mark it with the
diligence of a deeply-felt responsibility. Let us
learn from the tomb its oft-repeated yet too un-
heeded lesson, “ What thine hand findeth to do, do
with thy might;" for with me, to whom thou art
hastening, is “neither wisdom, nor knowledge,
nor device.”
The assurance that this is a state of probation,
should give vigour to virtue, and solemnity to truth.
Every hour assumes a fearful responsibility when
we view it as the culturer of an immortal harvest.
Time is the seed-planter of eternity. Every
winged moment does his work and will have its
wages. Here we are but in the childhood of our
existence. This was deeply realised by that great
philosopher to whom the universe unfolded its
mysterious laws, and light, that most subtile ele-
ment, revealed its mechanism, who held com-
munion with Nature in her majesty, as the prophet
walked on Sinai with his God. In the wisdom
of his heaven-taught humility, he said, that his
whole life seemed but as the play of children,
among the sands and bubbles of the seashore.
The belief that “He who knoweth our frame,"
keepeth us here in his fatherly school, that its
discipline may qualify us to become students with
angels, should incite us not only to discharge
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MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
duty, but to sustain adverse appointments with an
unshrinking spirit. We should ever remember
that this is our trial-state, and that trials, more
powerfully than pleasures, ripen the fruits of
righteousness. “The good things which belong to
prosperity may be wished, but the good things
that belong to adversity are to be admired," said
Seneca; or to use the clearer language of Bacon,
that greater than Seneca, “the virtue of prosperity
is temperance, but the virtue of adversity is for-
titude, and the last is the more sublime attainment."
Let us strive to pass calmly under the storm, or
to tread the miry path without pollution, because
we are travellers to our Father's house, where
nothing can enter that defileth. This world was
evidently not intended for a state, where the im-
mortal mind could receive full gratification. To
resist evil, to fulfil obligation, to partake cheerfully
of finite good, yet to feel its disproportion to our
own boundless desires, to submit to the refiner's
process in the furnace of affliction, and ardently to
seek fitness for an ethereal home, is perceived to
be our principal business and highest wisdom.
Elevated by such contemplations, sufferings and
labours will seem light. Calumny and injustice
will be borne with patience, for the praise or
dishonour of men is an air-bubble to those who
are bound to an unerring tribunal, where "every
thought is made manifest."
The sports and griefs of a child, seem to man-
hood as folly. Yet amid these sports and sorrows,
1
278
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
he is cherishing the tempers which are to go with
him through life, and form its happiness or woe.
So, the pursuits of men, their love of variey,
their eagerness-for wealth, their bloody strife after
honour, their agony when these rainbow-promises
fade, are folly to the eye of angels. Yet by the
agency of such pursuits and disappointments are
those dispositions confirmed, which either fit to
dwell with angels, or exclude from their society
for ever.
The objects that now agitate or delight us, must
soon perish. But the habits of mind which they
generate, the affections which they mature, are
eternal. They go with us over the “swelling of
Jordan," when, of all the riches which we have
gathered, we can carry nothing away. The har-
mony of soul, which prepares for intercourse with
“just men made perfect," the love of holiness, the
spirit of praise, which constitute the temper and
the bliss of heaven, must be commenced below:
so that not the scenes through which we pass, but
the impressions which those scenes make on the
soul, are to be desired, or deprecated. Ah! who
is sufficiently aware of the importance of this brief
existence? Who is that "faithful and wise
steward," whom his Lord, coming even at mid-
night, shall find prepared ?
The consciousness of immortality is both a
prompting and sustaining motive of immense in-
fluence. To do this, or to avoid thatấnot from
considerations of personal interest, but because
MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.
279
WC
.
we are to live for ever—is wofthy bf a being,
marked out by his Creator, for a
“Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning ráce.”
We are too prone to be absorbed, either by the
things of this life, or by gloomy views of its ter-
mination, pressed on us by the departure of some
endeared relative or friend. We busy ourselves
more with the part which dieth, than with that
which is immortal. Sometimes we array Death
with a transforming power, or trust that the dis-
eases which are his heralds, may bring a repent-
ance able to atone for the errors and omissions of
many years. Yet often does he steal unawares
upon his victim, leaving no time for sigh or prayer.
His office is to sunder the spirit from the clay, not
to reform, or prepare it for heaven. He takes the
soul as he finds it. It is life which seals our cre-
dentials for the bliss or woe of eternity. We are
accustomed to anticipate the ministry of death
with fear. I would say to you, rather fear life,
for according to the character of that life will death
be to you either the king of terrors, or the herald
of unspeakable joy:
“Death hath no dread, but what frail life imparts."
We think too much of the dark gate, through
which we pass into the eternal temple, and too
little of the pilgrimage by which our mansion in
that temple is determined. Earthly prosperity
should be estimated by its influence on the soul.
What we here term adversities, may in reality be
that of th Pass
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MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE.*
S
.
blessings. When we cast off these vestments of
clay, perhaps they may come in beautiful garments
to welcome us to everlasting habitations. Here,
we spoke of them as evil messengers; in the court
of heaven, we may perchance recognise them, as
"angels sent on errands full of love."
By the combined influence therefore of intellect-
ual, moral and religious obligation, by the unrest-
ing voice of time, judgment, and eternity, we are
impelled to diligence, perseverance and zeal in
duty, urged to “ forget the things that are behind,
and reach forward toward those that are before,
and press onward to the mark, for the prize of the
high calling of God, in Christ Jesus our Lord."
And now, my daughters, farewell! In pursuing
with you, objects of tender and high concern, my
heart has been drawn towards you, with something
of a mother's love. The hand that traces these
lines, will soon moulder in dust; and the eye that
peruses them, however radiant with hope, or bril-
liant in beauty, must be dim beneath the clods of
the valley.--Though we never meet in the flesh,
yet at that day when the “ dead, small and great,
shall stand before God," may it be found that we
have so communed in spirit, as to aid in the bles-
sed pilgrimage to “glory-honour--immortality-
eternal life.”
APR 15 1915
F.:
2. CLAY, PAR
R. CLAY, PRINTER, EREAD STREET HILL.
.:.
.
…
.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
!!
www
WWW
.
MUTILATE CARD
OR
DO NOT REMOVE
www
Wife
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.
w
piwa
.
A 548736
3 9015 02093 9701
.
t.
P
WA
SAYA
mode
HhWhO
的​。