■ 
 
 ;;.„< 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY 
 
 OTHER SKETCHES 
 
 Suites anb (fepenentes m Soaal f ife. 
 
 PARTICULARLY 
 
 ADAPTED FOR EVERY-DAY READING. 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBEKT.MORKIS. 
 
 / 
 
 But happy they, the happiest of their kind, 
 Whom gentle stars unite, and in one fate 
 Thei.r hearts, their fortunes, and their heings blend." 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 
 Noun 
 
 T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 - 1 9 - . 
 

 copyright: 
 
 PETERSON - &c BROTHEP-S. 
 
 1879. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FAOB 
 
 Courtship and Matrimony, 33 
 
 Never Give Up ! An Incident in Keal Life, 60 
 
 Success and Failure. — The "Way of the World, 64 
 
 Self-Possession : Calmness, Composure, and Courage, 68 
 
 A Start in Life : the Choice of a Profession, 72 
 
 The Eomance of Eeal Life. — Portraits from the Crowd,. .. 75 
 
 Temptation ; or, " Pride goeth before a Fall," 82 
 
 Early Training. — Boyhood and Manhood, 86 
 
 Sensibility, - 90 
 
 The Mother and her Sons. An Incident in Real Life,. . . . 93 
 
 A Little too Late ; or, the Error of Procrastination, 99 
 
 Matrimony ; or, A Bachelor in a Dilemma, 103 
 
 Gambling ; or, the Dupes and the Sharpers, 107 
 
 The Rich, and their Opportunities, Ill 
 
 Occupation ; or, the Uses of a Trade or Profession, 114 
 
 Character ; or, Experience and its Teachings, 117 
 
 Envy, Rivalry, and False Pride, 120 
 
 Parents and Children, 124 
 
 Anonymous Letter-Writing — Its Cowardice and Crime,. . . 127 
 
 Life and its Anxieties ; or, Living too Fast, 130 
 
 The Little Jealousies of Life, 135 
 
 (27) 
 
28 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAQB 
 
 The Cheerful and the Gloomy, 138 
 
 Indiscretion ; or, the Errors of Haste, 141 
 
 The Erring ; or, Crime, its Causes and its Cure, 144 
 
 The Poor Inebriate, 148 
 
 Temptation.— The First False Step, 151 
 
 Married Life. — Mutual Forbearance vs. Incompatibility of 
 
 Temper, 156 
 
 The Peevish and the Passionate. — Our Infirmities, 160 
 
 Mischief-makers and Scandal-mongers, 165 
 
 The Folly of Crime, 169 
 
 Success and Failure. — The Cruel Judgment of the World,. 173 
 
 The Self-Deceived ; or, Portraits from the Crowd, 178 
 
 The Bright Side and the Dark, 182 
 
 The Policy of Minding one's own Business, 186 
 
 The Grumbler, 189 
 
 The Overtasked ; or, the Moral Suicide, 193 
 
 The Charm of Manner; or, Ease, Grace, and Courtesy,... 197 
 
 Spring and Youth. — Their Scenes and Associations, 201 
 
 Suicide. — The Broken Merchant, 205 
 
 The Blessings of Home, 209 
 
 The Time to Ketire.— The Philosophy of Contentment, 212 
 
 The Conduct of Life, 215 
 
 The Moral and the Intellectual.— The Head and the Heart, 219 
 
 The Sombre Hours of Life ; or, a Word to the Dejected!. . 222 
 
 The Harsh arid the Hasty ; or, Error and Separation, 225 
 
 Be not Discouraged. 229 
 
 Good and Evil, 233 
 
 Imaginary Evils and Grievances, 237 
 
 Home Festivals, 242 
 
 The Idler, , 246 
 
 The Spring-time of the Year, 249 
 
CONTENTS. 29 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Young Heir ; or, the Perils of Prosperity, 252 
 
 The Invalid. — Sickness and Health, 257 
 
 The Power of Habit ; or, A few "Words of Warning, 261 
 
 The Physician, . 265 
 
 Forethought ; or, Look before you Leap, 269 
 
 Forbearance. — Its Virtue and its Policy, .... 272 
 
 The Criminal and his Cure, 278 
 
 Idlers and Prosers, 281 
 
 Money versus Merit. — Undue Homage to "Wealth, 284 
 
 Enough ; or, the Philosophy of Contentment, 288 
 
 The Passion of Avarice. — A Sketch from Eeal Life, 291 
 
 Ingratitude. — A Yice of Human Nature, 296 
 
 The Indiscreet. — Eash Expressions and Hasty Judgments,. 300 
 
 Physicians and their Responsibilities, 303 
 
 The Prejudiced.— The Fallibility of Human Judgment, 306 
 
 The Temper and the Tongue, 310 
 
 Perils of Falsehood, 314 
 
 The Unsatisfied, 317 
 
 The Rescued from Crime. — Houses of Refuge, 320 
 
 Pretension. — Yanity, Pride, and their Penalty, 324 
 
 The Unforgiving. — Temptation and Mercy, 328 
 
 The Perils of Excitement.— Self-control, 331 
 
 The Sense of Obligation. — Ingratitude, 335 
 
 Early Marriages. — The Hand but not the Heart, 339 
 
 The Living and the Dead. — Life and its Bubbles, 343 
 
 Courtesy. — The Manner and the Heart, 347 
 
 Temper. — The Despots of Domestic Life, 351 
 
 The Philosophy of Kindness, 355 
 
 The Perils of Wit, 360 
 
 Disappointment. — Faith, 365 
 
 The Balances of Life,... 369 
 
30 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Fidelity; or, the False and True, 373 
 
 Tact and Talent, 377 
 
 The Penitent. — Give him another Chance, 380 
 
 The Uses of Adversity, 384 
 
 Style and Dress, 387 
 
 The Close of the Week.— Saturday Night, , 390 
 
 The Habit of Industry. — The Choice of an Occupation,.. . 394 
 
 Forbearance, 398 
 
 Forgery ; or, the Perils of the First False Step, 402 
 
 Eeliability, 41)6 
 
 Moral Suicide ; or, Social Festivals and Late Hours, 409 
 
 Passion and Prejudice, . . 413 
 
 The Happy Medium, 416 
 
 Beginnings of Character, 419 
 
 The Knowledge of Experience,. . . , 423 
 
 Fame and Fortune ; or. Overtasking the Mind, 426 
 
 Home and its Harmonies, 430 
 
 Have you made your Will ? 433 
 
 The Rule of Love and the Rule of Fear, 436 
 
 The Living and the Dead. — Why Postpone the Duties of 
 
 Benevolence ? 440 
 
 The Moral Sense, 443 
 
 The Man of many Promises, 447 
 
 The Heroes and the Martyrs of Real Life, 451 
 
 A Word in Season, 454 
 
 Life and its Excitements ; or, the Philosophy of Retiring,. 457 
 The Gentle and the Harsh ; or, the Philosophy of Reproof, 461 
 
 Getting Rich too Fast, 465 
 
 Exaggeration. — Its Perils and its Penalties, 468 
 
 Character. — The Penalty of its Loss, 471 
 
 Peculiarities ; or, All have Infirmities, 474 
 
CONTENTS. 31 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Overtasked ; or, Toil and its Victims, 478 
 
 False Impressions ; or, the Little Enmities of Life, 482 
 
 The Battle of Life, 486 
 
 Civility. — The Social and the Business "World, 490 
 
 An Object in Life. — The Policy of Sticking to Something, 494 
 
 Unequal Marriages, 497 
 
 A Little Consideration, 501 
 
 The Beauty of Truth,. 505 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY; 
 
 WITH OTHER SKETCHES 
 
 FROM SCENES AND EXPERIENCES IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
 
 fafajiip mfo PaiiTOg, 
 
 ' From that day forth, in peace and joyous Miss, 
 
 They lived together long without debate ; 
 Nor private jars, nor spite of enemies, 
 
 Could shake the safe assurance of their state." — Spenser. 
 
 COURTSHIP is a great privilege in this free 
 country, and one, we fear, which is not adequately 
 appreciated. It permits man and woman not only to 
 become acquainted with the mere forms and features, 
 but with the mental and moral qualifications of each 
 other, before entering upon the most important con- 
 tract of human society. We regard this as a great privi- 
 lege, for it is enjoyed only by an inconsiderable portion 
 of the human family. Thus in Turkey, from the time 
 that a girl reaches the age of ten, she is taught to shun 
 the eye of man. Her marriage is arranged by her 
 friends, and with an individual whom she has never 
 seen. The blissful period of courtship, and all the de- 
 lights of hope and love, are lost to her. Nay, after she 
 becomes a wife, she is excluded from the society of all 
 
 (33) 
 
34: COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 her male relations, with the exception of father, uncles, 
 and brothers, who are permitted to pay a short visit 
 of ceremony, and only on festal days. 
 
 In some parts of Arabia we are told that parents 
 are accustomed to promise their children in marriage 
 when but a few years, or even a few months old. The 
 father of the male child buys the girl. He bargains 
 about the price, and pays down part of it immediately 
 by way of earnest. Thus the wives are all bought — 
 neither party most deeply interested having any say 
 in the matter at the time of entering into the contract. 
 
 Our Indians have a much more rational system. Mr. 
 Murray tells us that among the Pawnees, when the 
 lover wishes to break the ice, he visits the tent of the 
 father of the one beloved, without any invitation. He 
 sits on the corner of a mat for some time, and retires 
 without speaking. A few days after, he pays a second 
 visit — wears his buffalo robe gracefully about him, 
 with the wrong side out, and again sits silently in the 
 corner of the tent. If the father determine to reject 
 him, nothing is placed for him to sit on, and no meat 
 is offered him ; but if he approve of the match, the 
 rights of hospitality are observed. Feasts are then 
 given by the respective parties, in order to obtain the 
 consent of their relatives. If these terminate favorably, 
 the young man presents himself once more before the 
 bride at the door of the tent, and then turns and walks 
 slowly off toward his. She rises and follows him, and 
 the marriage is then complete. All this is done with- 
 out a word passing between the bride and her husband 
 that is to be. 
 
 This is somewhat of an improvement on the Turkish 
 and Arabian system ; but bow miserably defective as 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY, 35 
 
 compared with that practiced among the more refined 
 and civilized nations of the earth — and especially in 
 our own country! Here the period of courtship is 
 recognized, and justly, as the most blissful of human 
 existence — the brightest, greenest, sunniest spot on 
 the wayside of life. Generally speaking, it extends 
 over a space of from one to five years — a time, too, 
 when the mind and the heart are alike peculiarly sus- 
 ceptible to all that is exquisite in sentiment or beauti- 
 ful in nature ! When the future is painted by the 
 imagination, and we see in the distance nothing but 
 brightness and bliss. Before we have been taught the 
 sad lessons of experience — before care, and pain, and 
 vicissitude have robbed the golden dreams of youth 
 of their rich promise and sunny splendor. Before 
 life has caught a shadow from the wings of time. 
 When, bounding forward with high hopes and pant- 
 ing spirits, we pass the silver-headed wayfarers of an 
 earlier generation, as the beings of another world — as 
 those who have finished the joyous career that we are 
 but just beginning. Then it is, that we live in a 
 world of our own imagining. Then it is, that the 
 heart in the spring-time of existence thrills and dilates 
 with many an exquisite emotion — that Death seems 
 afar off and robbed of all his terrors. Then, that the 
 future rises up as a rich landscape, with green fields, 
 pleasant valleys, shadowy retreats, and a golden sunset 
 bending above the whole. Some fairy spirit too 
 mingles in and gives additional zest to the scene — an 
 idol, in whom we see all the elements of peifection — a 
 being of the heart — 
 
 " Fair as the first that fell of woman kind, 
 
 When on that dread, yet lovely serpent smiling, 
 
36 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 Whose image then was stamped upon her mind — 
 
 But once beguiled — and evermore beguiling : 
 Dazzling as that, ah ! too transcendent vision, 
 
 To sorrow's phantom-peopled slumber given, 
 When heart meets heart again in dreams Elysian, 
 
 And paints the lost on earth renewed in Heaven !" 
 
 For a time we have not the possession of all our 
 faculties. The manliness of our nature is softened and 
 subdued. Our world seems concentrated into one 
 slight object; and what in the eyes of others are 
 deemed blemishes and imperfections, are regarded by 
 the mad lover as of little more importance than spots 
 on the sun. In the one fair form we see nothing but 
 " perfect symmetry" — 
 
 " Her swan-like gait, 
 As she glides by us as a lovely dream, 
 Seems not of earth. From her bright eye the soul 
 Looks out ; and like the topmost gem o' the heap 
 Shows the mine's wealth within. Upon her face, 
 As on a lovely landscape, shade and sunlight 
 Play as strong feeling sways ; now her eye flashes 
 A beam of rapture— now lets drop a tear ; 
 And now upon her brow — as when the rainbow 
 Rears its fair arch in heaven — Peace sits and gilds 
 The sweet drops as they fall." 
 
 Such are the portraits of the hours of courtship* 
 such the fair shapes that lend enchantment to those 
 hours. 
 
 Then it is that the heart is touched with the dream 
 of love — triumphant love, which 
 
 " Like Aurora trembles into being, 
 And with faint, flickering and uncertain beams 
 Gives notice of the awakening world within us, 
 Of the full blazing orb that soon shall rise 
 And kindle all its passions. Then begin, 
 Sorrow and j oy— unutterable joy 
 And rapturous sorrow. Then the world is nothing- 
 Pleasure is nothing—suffering is nothing ; 
 Ambition, riches, praise, power, all are nothing ; 
 Love lives and reigns, despotic and alone. 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 37 
 
 With such views, and such feelings, and such a 
 companion, how can the period of courtship be other 
 than highly blissful? Even if deceived, the delusion 
 is delicious while it lasts ; and if we are able to keep 
 it up throughout the whole journey of life, so mucn 
 the better. There is no happier man than the in- 
 dividual who has boundless confidence in his wife — 
 who looks upon her as the model of womankind, fault- 
 less as well in person as in mind — 
 
 " One made up 
 Of loveliness alone." 
 
 What matters it to him that the world does not con- 
 cur in his estimate, or that his neighbor holds a dif- 
 ferent view? He did not consult the world at large in 
 seeking a choice — nor did he hold the view of his 
 neighbor important — 
 
 "What care I how fair she be, 
 If she be not fair to me." 
 
 The correct policy — nay, the duty of the married, is 
 to realize as far as possible, in the subsequent period 
 of existence, the expectations held out by the trial 
 time of courtship. To preserve in after life the same 
 bright picture that won our early idolatry. To keep 
 the flame kindled in youth, constantly fed by gentle- 
 ness of affection, kindliness of manner and depth of 
 regard, and thus to cherish a holy light that will 
 cheer and gladden hearth and home till the latest 
 period of existence. 
 
 To win a man's affections is, comparatively speak- 
 ing, an easy matter — to retain them is the great art, 
 the true secret of domestic felicity. The wife then 
 2 
 
38 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 should at least endeavor to render herself quite as 
 attractive as the maid — and thus to show that she at 
 once understands the obligations assumed at the altar ; 
 appreciates the confidence, and is really anxious to 
 preserve the affections of her husband. But the 
 moment the matrimonial knot is tied, let her tear 
 away the mask — let her become inattentive to the 
 little delicacies of dress and refinements of manner — 
 the many nameless attractions that speak, as it 
 were, from the depths of the soul. Let her exhibit 
 apathy and indifference, and the veil will soon fall 
 from the features of both — and the one stand forth a 
 heartless hypocrite; the other a betrayed and dissi- 
 pated wretch. This is no idle picture— no false theory. 
 It will apply as well to the husband as the wife : nay, 
 with far more force to the former, who must seek to 
 betray — by assuming a mask deep and subtle, and, 
 from his relative position in society, far more culpable 
 than that which sometimes conceals the guile of the 
 gentler portion of creation. Courtship, then, is not 
 only, when animated by purity of motive and sincerity 
 of affection, a blissful but a deeply important period. 
 " How often," as has been eloquently observed of a 
 new acquaintance, "does it change in every respect 
 the current of our days on earth — aye, and affect eternity 
 itself!" It may be said to form the period of time at 
 which two streams meet. There the waters of both 
 are insensibly blended : the clear and the turbid, the 
 rough and the smooth, the rapid and the slow. Each 
 not only modifies the manner, and directs the progress 
 of the other with which it mingles, but the stream, if 
 fully united in an after period, is influenced by mutual 
 hopes and fears, and joys and sorrows. The charac- 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 39 
 
 teristics, the trials, the successes and reverses of life 
 which were before individual and distinct, are now 
 shared alike and in common. Courtship, then, is a 
 period full of responsibility; for it may be said to 
 color and influence all the after period of earthly ex- 
 istence. It is to marriage, what the bud is to the 
 flower — the very soul and centre from which all life, 
 sweetness, and beauty are diffused. It constitutes the 
 halcyon period of mortal existence — 
 
 "When earth is tinted 
 
 With hues more brilliant than the Iris' dyes — 
 When life itself is a fairy legend, printed, 
 
 In golden characters for loving eyes — 
 When poetry is felt the purest, sweetest — 
 
 Unwritten poetry of stars, birds, flowers — 
 When happy moments wing themselves the fleetest, 
 
 And light as gossamer float rosy hours — 
 When as pure spirits on the earth we wandei*, 
 
 And feel it not a cold, delusive sphere, 
 But bright and beautiful on which Ave ponder, 
 
 Deeming no Paradise can be more dear, 
 When to the enchanted soul love's bliss is g-'ven — 
 A dream — a vision of its after heaven." 
 
 But there is a time for all things, and Courtship, 
 however delightful, should have a proper termination. 
 
 Marriage is justly regarded by all true philosophers 
 as one of the best and purest of institutions — an insti- 
 tution that has the approbation of Divinity itself. u Be 
 fruitful and multiply," is the precept of the Almighty. 
 The Hebrews married very early, for a single life was 
 considered .disgraceful in Israel. The engagements 
 of those early days lasted from six to twelve months. 
 The men were frequently not more than eighteen — ■ 
 the females not more than fourteen years of age. Some 
 days after the wedding, the bride was conducted to 
 the home of her husband, and was not called a wife 
 
40 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 until that time. This was done with much ceremony 
 and the singing of a prayer like this: — " Glory to 
 Thee, Lord our God, King of the world, who hast 
 created all things for thy glory. "We praise Thee, 
 Lord, that hast created man in thy image and resem- 
 blance, and hast prepared him a mate of the same 
 nature forever. Glory to Thee, O Lord, that rejoicest 
 Zion in the multitude of her children. Bless this 
 couple with joy, as thou hast blessed the first man and 
 woman in the paradise of Eden. Praised be thy 
 name, Lord, our God, that spreadeth pleasure over 
 the husband and his wife ; and that hast created for 
 them joy, songs, love, friendship, peace, connubial 
 tenderness, &c. &c." 
 
 Marriage was practiced by the earliest sovereigns 
 of the nations ; by Menes, the first king of Egypt ; 
 Eohi, the first sovereign of China, and Cecrops, the 
 first legislator of the Greeks. The earliest laws en- 
 couraged matrimony. Thus by the Jewish law, a 
 married man was for the first year exempted from 
 going to war, and excused from the burden of any 
 public office. Among the Peruvians he was free for 
 a year from the payment of all taxes. Offences against 
 the marriage rites were punished by the ancient nations 
 with the greatest severity ; and it has been well ob- 
 served by an eminent historian, that in reality no 
 single offence is equally pernicious to society. 
 
 A singular practice prevailed among the early Assy- 
 rians. In every village, they collected once in the 
 year, all the young women who were marriageable, and 
 the public crier, beginning with the most beautiful, put 
 them up at auction, one after another. The rich, of 
 course, had the first choice under these circumstances • 
 
COUKTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 41 
 
 but, as a palliative, the money thus realized was assessed 
 as a portion to the less attractive. When their turn 
 came, each woman was bestowed on the man who was 
 willing to accept her with the smallest portion. But no 
 man was allowed to carry off the woman he had pur- 
 chased, Unless be gave security that he would take her to 
 wife. And, if subsequently it happened that the hus- 
 band for any cause put away his wife, he was obliged to 
 pay back the money he recieved with her. It was also 
 stipulated by the laws of Assyria, that the women should 
 be well treated by their husbands : an excellent provision, 
 and one that might be emulated with advantage among 
 some of the modern nations. The condition of woman, it 
 has been well observed; in all ages, has been a criterion 
 of the progress of civilization and refinement of manners. 
 Holding this proposition to be sound, we allude with 
 feelings of laudable pride to the position of our own 
 country. Women in the United States are, if not fully 
 and adequately, very generally respected. This is con- 
 ceded even by one of our most malignant libellers, Cap- 
 tain Marryatt. De Toequeville also observes that : 
 " Long before an American girl arrives at the age of mar- 
 riage, her emancipation from maternal control begins ; 
 she has scarcely ceased to be a child, when she already 
 thinks for herself, speaks with freedom, and acts on her 
 own impulse. The great scene of the world is con- 
 stantly open to her view ; far from seeking concealment, 
 it is every day disclosed to her more completely, and 
 she is taught to survey it with a firm and calm gaze. 
 Thus the vices and dangers of society are early revealed 
 to her ; as she sees them clearly, she views them with- 
 out illusions, and braves them without fear ; for she is 
 
4:2 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 full of reliance on her own strength, and her. reliance 
 seems to be shared by all who are about her." 
 
 These admissions, we are willing to regard as atoning 
 for a multitude of sins. In the language of a celebrated 
 French philosopher, "So long as a nation preserves the 
 purity of character and modesty of deportment, which 
 constitute the most ennobling attributes of the sex, both 
 the morals and the liberties of that nation may be con- 
 sidered measurably safe. The congenial soil of liberty 
 is amidst a virtuous people ; and no people can long 
 continue virtuous, where women in the mass are regard- 
 less of modesty of manner, propriety of deportment, or 
 the tone of whose conversation is not brightened and 
 elevated by the unsullied principles of delicacy and 
 virtue." 
 
 But the practice just alluded to was not confined to 
 the Assyrians. It is stated that in many of the ancient 
 nations the husband was obliged to purchase his wife 
 by presents, and by personal services to her father. 
 When Abraham sent to demand Eebecca for his son 
 Isaac, he charged his messenger with magnificent pres- 
 ents. Jacob served seven years for each of the daugh- 
 ters of Laban who were given to him in marriage. Ho- 
 mer alludes to this custom as existing in Greece. The 
 same system was in use among the andfent inhabitants 
 of India, Spain, Germany, Thrace, and Gaul— and 
 modern travelers state that it prevails at this day in 
 China, Turkey, Africa, and also among some of the 
 savage tribes of America. 
 
 Another practice also exists among portions of the 
 aborigines of the American continent. We allude to 
 the marriage by a cjaief of several sisters. This is 
 common in Upper California, among the Pawnees and 
 
COUKTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 43 
 
 several other tribes. But this is in savage life, in a 
 condition of society where chastity is almost unknown, 
 and where a wife and a slave are synonymous terms. 
 Among the Pawnees, for example, the wife rises an hour 
 before daylight, packs up the baggage, strikes the tent, 
 saddles the horses and mules, and travels on foot from 
 thirty to forty miles a day, carrying on her back either 
 a child or a package of considerable size, while the 
 husband or tyrant rides. A sad illustration this of the 
 practice of polygamy. Its tendency is alike vicious 
 everywhere, among the civilized and the savage. Wit- 
 ness its operation in Turkey, where it is sustained by 
 the Koran. "Women there are in a wretched condition 
 as regards liberty, morals, and mind. Marriage in that 
 country is exclusively a civil contract, which is attested 
 before the Cadi, or magistrate, by friends of the two 
 parties, neither of whom need be present. When a 
 man of rank, says a modern traveler, (and none but 
 such can maintain a number of wives,) marries a wo- 
 man who is his equal, a stipulation is made that she 
 shall be his only spouse. But if, as is more frequently 
 the case, he take a plurality of wives of a rank inferior 
 to his own, each is entitled to a separate establishment, 
 and all can demand equal privileges till one be elevated 
 above the rest by becoming a parent ; and the mother 
 of the eldest son is called the chief spouse. The prin- 
 cipal object or desire with the Moslem, as with the He- 
 brew women, is children ; and those whose wishes are 
 realized, regard with contempt their less fortunate rivals, 
 while in turn they are eyed with burning jealousy. 
 Among the tenants of the Harem who can claim no 
 connubial privileges, the mother of a daughter ranks 
 above one who is childless ; but the mother of a son is 
 
44: COUETSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 immediately raised to the dignity of a wife, unless the 
 father have already four, the conjugal limit prescribed 
 by the Koran. Such an order of things opens the 
 door to ambition, jealousy, hatred, and other evil pas- 
 sions, occasionally giving rise to persecutions and even 
 to murders. The mind is wholly neglected. 
 
 This is the condition of woman in countries where, 
 as among the savages of our own soil, a plurality of 
 wives is tolerated. Affection is weakened, confidence 
 destroyed; and without these two bonds, there can be 
 nothing like unity of purpose, or feeling, or spirit — 
 nothing like connubial felicity. It was beautifully ob- 
 served by an old poet, that when first one woman was 
 joined to one man in the chaste endearments of mutual 
 love, and saw their own offspring rising around them — ■ 
 then only did the ferocious manners of the human race 
 begin to soften. It was only a few months since that 
 we heard a distinguished member of Congress from 
 Pennsylvania make a remark in a similar spirit. He 
 had returned to his family for the purpose of partici- 
 pating in the Christmas holidays, and on being asked 
 how he felt, he replied : " More like a human being 
 during the last twenty-four hours, than for the previous 
 fortnight 1" We gazed upon him with a look of in- 
 quiry mingled with surprise. 
 
 " I mean what I say," he added, with no little ear- 
 nestness. " During the period alluded to, I mingled 
 night and day exclusively with men — with excited 
 politicians — and I felt every hour a furious and savage 
 disposition creeping over me — a disposition common to 
 those who shun the softening, ennobling, and refining 
 influence of virtuous female society." 
 
 The philosophy of the poet and the representative is 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 45 
 
 doubtless correct. Even in the Garden of Eden, that 
 first earthly paradise, Adam felt the spirit of loneliness 
 stealing upon his soul. The Deity 'saw his heart and 
 yielded to the desire of that heart. y He sent a minis- 
 tering angel — a sweet companion ! 
 
 " She, as a veil, down to the slender waist 
 Her unadorned, golden tresses wore 
 Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved, 
 As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied 
 Subjection, but required with gentle sway ; 
 So hand in hand they passed— the loveliest pair 
 That ever since in love's embraces met — 
 Adam, the goodliest man of men since born 
 His sons ; the fairest of her daughters, Eve." 
 
 Among the early Eomans there were three forms of 
 marriage. Thus the marriages of the patricians were 
 celebrated in the presence of ten witnesses, and amidst 
 numerous ceremonies and solemnities, religious arid 
 otherwise. The people married, either by buying or 
 selling, or with an understanding that, after the parties 
 had lived together for a year, they should be con- 
 sidered as married. An odious system, and fraught 
 with every description of licentiousness and wrong. 
 How different — how salutary by contrast the principle 
 of modern times — not only in our own country, but in 
 that of our ancestors. We know of no instance in 
 which the beauty of marriage, as an institution, has 
 been more forcibly illustrated than in the case of Queen 
 Victoria, who, although the sovereign of one of the 
 mightiest empires of the earth — the queen of domin- 
 ions that number millions of souls, and of such extent 
 that.it has been eloquently observed that the sun's 
 rays ever linger on some portion of them, — descend- 
 ing from her high position, and consulting only the 
 dictates of her woman heart, took for her bosom's 
 
46 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 lord, a comparatively obscure lieutenant of GermaD 
 Hussars. 
 
 "We consider the act the noblest in the character of 
 Victoria, and entitled to the approbation of every ele- 
 vated rnind — of all who can appreciate the purity, the 
 depth, and magnanimity of sincere affection — the truth, 
 the fervor, the fidelity of woman's love. 
 
 In this single instance the heart of the gentler sex 
 is seen in all its sincerity, truth and beauty, and the 
 dictates of that heart, as exemplified in the choice of a 
 husband, cannot but have a salutary moral influence 
 upon the age. 
 
 And why should we not attach importance to the 
 character of woman ? Her influence over the destinies 
 of men and of nations has been mighty in all ages of 
 the world. Without her we had never existed — while 
 with her, life has a thousand joys and a thousand rays 
 of sunshine that live only in her presence. Her smiles 
 and her tears are alike potential. 
 
 Even the iron-hearted Coriolanus was ix>t proof 
 against the latter. Banished from Rome, and in arms 
 against his sovereign State, he refused all terms of ac- 
 commodation, until a band of Roman matrons, at the 
 head of which was Veturia, repaired to the camp of the 
 traitor and threw themselves at his feet. The severity 
 of his nature was not proof against this appeal. Corio- 
 lanus — the arrogant and the iron-hearted — laid down 
 his arms — ordered his troops to retire, and thus Rome, 
 the mighty mistress of the world, owed her safety to 
 the tears of a woman. 
 
 But this is only one of many similar instances. His- 
 tory informs us that most of the revolutions of the 
 
COUETSHIP AND MATKIMONY. 47 
 
 Roman state, were measurably, if not altogether, at 
 tributable to women. 
 
 The story of Lucretia, who preferred death by her 
 own hands to a life of dishonor, is familiar to all, and 
 is a case in point. Brutus was a witness of the scene. 
 He drew the dagger from her heart, and swore by the 
 eternal gods to be the avenger of her death. And well 
 he kept the oath. The dead body of Lucretia was 
 taken to the Forum, and there the people were aroused 
 to vengeance and to liberty. The Senate could not 
 resist the popular clamor. Offended virtue cried aloud 
 for justice. Tarquin was banished; the regal office 
 was abolished ; and thus to the fate of a woman, Rome 
 owed the downfall of a tyrant and the establishment 
 of a Republic. 
 
 The case of Virginia is another, dear to virtue and 
 to liberty. It preceded and led to the overthrow of 
 the iniquitous Decemviri, and the restoration of the 
 Consular government. 
 
 We may also instance a third case not long after. 
 Marcus Fabius Ambustus had given one of his daugh- 
 ters in marriage to Lucinius Stocco, a plebeian, and the 
 other to Servius Sulpitius, a patrician, and a military 
 tribune. One day when the wife of the plebeian was at 
 her sister's house, the lictor who walked before Sulpi- 
 tius on his return from the Senate, knocked loudly at 
 the door to apprise those within of the approach of the 
 magistrate. The noise threw the wife of the plebeian 
 into a panic ; her sister laughed at her alarm, and uttered 
 a malicious jest on the inequality of their situations. 
 A very small matter, says Livy, is sufficient to disturb 
 the quiet of a woman's mind. The affront was taken 
 seriously to heart — it became a subject of grave com- 
 
48 CGUKTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 plaint — ike fatker was consulted and petitioned, and 
 tke result was tke admission of tke plebeian order to tke 
 Consular dignity. 
 
 But we migkt cite numerous illustrations in tke kis- 
 tory of other nations, equally conclusive, kadwe time. 
 
 We repeat tken tkat too muck importance cannot 
 be attributed to tke ckaracter of woman, — 
 
 " First at the cross and earliest at the grave." 
 
 In tke hour of adversity her cheering presence is as 
 tke bright light of a purer world — wkile prosperity 
 and human bliss are but hollow and meaningless coun- 
 terfeits, unless ske constitute one of tkeir ckief elements. 
 In kow many dear relations does ske stand to us ! 
 
 Tke motker— -sister — daughter — wife! The Eng- 
 lish language does not contain four words calculated 
 to call forth deeper fountains of emotion, or to kindle 
 associations dearer and fonder to tke human heart. 
 But as it is of tke last and most endearing relation 
 tkat we would speak, we must not pause by tke wayside 
 to touch upon tke otkers, altkougk eack is calculated 
 to call back deligktful recollections and touck every 
 chord of the human soul ! 
 
 A modern writer kas an eloquent passage in one of 
 his works, which we will be excused for referring to 
 here. It is one of tke most beautiful tkings in tke 
 English language, — an apostrophe in tke course of a 
 long story, in wkick tke autkor pauses for a moment 
 to address kis wife. Thus — 
 
 "Beautiful being, whom now, in no boyish vision, I 
 behold, with thy soft eyes, which are as the mirrors of 
 human tenderness, and thy pure brow where never cloud 
 or shade ruffled the abode of all gentle and womanly 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 49 
 
 thought — and thy fairy and fond step, where the vigi- 
 lance and the care of love preside and sleep not, hast 
 thou filled the fountains of my heart with a mighty 
 and deep stream, and shall they not overflow ! Thy 
 cheek is paler than it, was, my love, and thy smile has 
 a fainter play, and the music of thy sweet voice is more 
 low and hushed, and the zephyr that waiteth on thy 
 footsteps flags at times with a weaker wing, so that 
 when I look on thee, my eyes have tears, but they are 
 not the tears of sorrow — for to me there is a brighter 
 lustre in thy later years, than when in the glory of our 
 earlier spring, the cheek of Hebe would have been dim 
 to thine! Has not the bloom of affection a richer 
 damask than the bloom of health? In thy looks I 
 behold the loveliness of comfort and of hope, and thy 
 smile has the beauty of the steps which upon the moun- 
 tain-top are the messengers of glad tidings. Thou hast 
 trusted thine all unto me, and while the vessel yet 
 lives through the stormy tide, thy treasures shall be 
 safe! 
 
 "For thee, my latest and my li via g dream — for thee 
 what blessing shall I invoke ? In the silence I have 
 made a vow ; in the night I have recorded a pledge. 
 Come under the shadow of my soul, and while it yet 
 lives to the things of earth, it is in my vow and my 
 pledge that thy blessing shall be found I" 
 
 These are sentiments worthy a happy union — a 
 generous heart and an elevated mind. They breathe the 
 spirit of true philosophy — of sincere affection — and at 
 once indicate the possession by the author of emotions 
 and sympathies beyond and above the vulgar passions 
 and attachments of coarse and mercenary life. They 
 are in some sense spiritual, and partake more of the 
 
50 - COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 ennobling and refining attributes of the soul, than of 
 the grosser feelings of our earthly nature. They 
 breathe — 
 
 " That love intense which sensual joy survives, 
 
 Founded on duty and the nuptial vow, 
 Which with its partner in affection strives, 
 
 Beams in the eye, and gladdens on the brow, 
 
 When pain and agony themselves eDdow ; 
 That love intense which, pillow 'd in the skies, 
 
 On a next world of brighter bliss relies. 
 That love intense which purer ardors warm, 
 
 On blameless lives and faithful breasts which stands, 
 Which greets the sunshine and defies the storm, 
 
 Which Time but strengthens, and wtrich Death withstands,— 
 First of the social charities which form 
 
 Parental, filial, and fraternal bands ; 
 That love with wedlock's rays alone can shine, 
 Its source, its ends, are deathless and divine." 
 
 Marriage, we contend, is desirable and commendable 
 in every point of view. No nation can exist long and 
 successfully, that does not, in the first place, recognize 
 the institution of marriage ; and, in the second, endeavor 
 to observe and keep pure the principles of that sacred 
 obligation. The founders of Eome, as already shown, 
 were compelled to commit a gross outrage upon a 
 neighboring people, in order to possess themselves of 
 wives. A nation without women was, naturally enough, 
 and even in that early time, looked upon as an ab- 
 surdity. 
 
 "A world without a sun," 
 
 in the strong language of the poet, is a fit illustration 
 of such a condition. Marriage then, in a national point 
 of view, is not only commendable but indispensable. 
 For "it is not good for man to be alone," in any moral 
 or civilized sense ; while woman, dear woman, has been 
 not inaptly, although somewhat inelegantly defined, by 
 
COUKTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 51 
 
 a southern judge, to be a " marrying creature." Strike 
 that sacred and heaven-born institution from the face 
 of the earth, and her condition would indeed be deso- 
 late and wretched. 
 
 Dr. Franklin was an earnest advocate, not only for 
 marriage, but for marriage early in life. True, he had 
 a fond and a frugal wife — one who assisted him in his 
 business, and cheered him in his hours of gloom. Such 
 a wife is indeed a jewel, that brightens with the lapse 
 of time. The world may go wrong, clouds may lower 
 and misfortunes threaten, but in the rainbow smile of 
 that gentle spirit — a light that grows brighter in ad- 
 versity — we have a moral power that, like the rod of 
 the American philosopher, arrests and disperses the 
 lightnings of misfortune. 
 
 We contend that marriage chastens the feelings, ex- 
 cites the ambition, and improves the heart. Man, of 
 himself and with nothing to live for, is too apt to grow 
 reckless of the opinion of the world, and regardless of 
 those acts of propriety so essential to the well-being of 
 society. But when his fame becomes identified with 
 that of another — and when in a family rising up around 
 him he sees not only so many multiplied images of 
 his own person, but reflections of his own character, 
 he must be cold and insensible indeed not to be affected. 
 His manners naturally and imperceptibly assume a 
 greater degree of dignity, while he finds many a spring 
 of affection welling forth in his heart, of whose very 
 existence he had before been unconscious. The respon- 
 sibilities of the husband and the father are now imposed 
 upon him ; and the gentle whisperings of the sharer of 
 his fortunes cannot fail to impart some mildness to a 
 nature, however hardened, to soften the rough points 
 3 
 
52 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 of character, and to instil those lessons of virtue ancl 
 propriety which constitute the elements of an unsullied 
 reputation. 
 
 The future too has added interest — for in that future 
 he sees the figures of his children ; the beings in whom 
 he has a new existence, and in whose joys and sorrows 
 his nature tells him he will so deeply sympathize. He 
 sees their footsteps as they journey on in the pathway 
 of life, and struggle against or fall before the trials and 
 temptations that beset that path. The ambition is thus 
 quickened, and the energies excited in the laudable 
 view of obtaining means to render them assistance in 
 their hour of need ; or, at least, of affording them an 
 honorable starting-place in the fame of their sire, when 
 about to enter the arena of a jealous and tempestuous 
 world. 
 
 A father's duty too has much effect even upon the 
 character of the father. Children are imitative beings. 
 This truth becomes speedily obvious to all parents. 
 Seeing that the}? are called upon to decide whether 
 their example shall be for evil or for good — whether 
 they will assist in brightening or darkening the pros- 
 pect, as well for time as for eternity, of their own flesh 
 and blood — human nature must be depraved indeed 
 when this view of the case — and it is a view that will 
 soon force itself upon the attention of every intelligent 
 parent — will be without a proper effect. The imita- 
 tive faculty is perhaps one of the most important of 
 the gifts of Heaven. AVell directed, it is capable of the 
 noblest efforts of human intellect. It has been well 
 and forcibly observed that a boy without powers of 
 imitation, is destined to remain all his life a one-sided 
 character. " He has no range of sympathies, he has 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 53 
 
 been fused only once in life, and been poured into a 
 mould, and there tie cools and will never be other than 
 you see him. His creed on all matters is already 
 formed, and you no more need hope to see him change 
 beneath the generous and genial sympathies of opinion 
 or of truth, than to find platina melt before an ordi- 
 nary parlor fire. The most promising boys are the 
 most imitative ; in this lies their capacity for education."' 
 
 This is truth strongly expressed. Imitation is a 
 noble faculty, and is to children what genius is to the 
 poet. It is a creative or reproductive power — the da- 
 guerreotype of the budding mind. How important 
 then that it should be well directed ; that principle, 
 truth, and virtue, should animate its models ; that the 
 parent should act for the child, and under a conscious- 
 ness that his thoughts, words, and actions were, in the 
 little circle around him, undergoing the process of 
 transfer — being caught up by the eye and ear, and in- 
 corporated, as it were, into multiplied forms. 
 
 This view, doubtless, has its effect. The love of the 
 parent is a powerful feeling, and has potent influence 
 upon our self-government. We see this daily in our 
 intercourse with society. Even the drunkard, dead- 
 ened and lost as he so frequently is, will hasten from the 
 presence of his children when about to yield to the 
 embraces of the destroyer. This is especially the case 
 in the incipient stages of the infatuation, and before 
 the sense of shame is deadened. So with almost every 
 other vice. 
 
 Marriage, therefore, is calculated to improve, m all, 
 the relations of life ; while, but for the possession of a 
 wife and family — links between the world of sympathy 
 and of virtue and the world of intemperance and guilt, 
 
54 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 voices that constantly invite the erring spirit "back to 
 the ways of well doing, — how many of the repentant 
 and reformed would have plunged headlong into the 
 abyss of darkness and despair. Even Byron, the profli- 
 gate and inconstant Byron, whose whole life was em- 
 bittered by his separation from his wife, and whose 
 premature death, produced by a restless and unsatisfied 
 spirit, was probably hastened by the same cause, makes 
 constancy the redeeming virtue of his favorite hero, 
 and in a poem unequaled for beauty of versification 
 and depth of genius. 
 
 Thus, when speaking of the Corsair, and his love 
 for Medora, he says: — 
 
 " He died, and left bis name to after times 
 Linked with one virtue and a thousand crimes." 
 
 And yet the writer of the sentiment just quoted was 
 doomed to that severest of human trials, an unhappy 
 marriage — possibly, nay probably, rendered so by his 
 own disposition and vices. Miserable indeed is the 
 condition of two beings united together in discord. 
 Life thus drags heavily on from day to day, while the 
 parties live together in the constant practice of hypoc- 
 risy or in perpetual strife. The heart does not light 
 up the smile that plays upon the lips ; the soul does not 
 participate in the feelings that the tongue is compelled 
 to counterfeit. If we continue the deception for any 
 considerable period after the utterance of the false 
 vow at the altar, we live in daily violation of the laws 
 of God, while the adder of conscience continues to eat 
 deeply into our peace of mind. The home that should 
 at once form the source and centre of all true enjoy- 
 ment, becomes hateful, and constantly reminds us of 
 our baseness. Or, if we at once throw off the mask, 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 85 
 
 what a shadowy path will appear in the distance ! Not 
 content with possessing ourselves, under false pretences, 
 of the fortune of another, we consummate the treacher- 
 ous work, acknowledge the baseness of the motive, 
 and thus mingle poison in the cup of the betrayed 
 one's happiness. We thus add to the villainy and ag- 
 gravate the original offence. We thus embitter a life 
 that has ventured its all for us — and destroy an illu- 
 sion, dearer perhaps than life itself. We thus entail 
 a living death upon one whose only error was a too 
 blind ' confidence, a too easy credulity, or a too sus- 
 ceptible heart. How bitter the fate of such a fatally 
 deceived and cruelly betrayed one ! Aggravated too, 
 as is often the case, by an eagle-eyed jealousy. Count- 
 ing over the hours of the long winter nights, lonely 
 and deserted, a heart breaking with disappointment 
 and despair ; a mind racked and tortured with a thou- 
 sand barbed suspicions, and haunted with as many 
 terrible thoughts and suggestions. Heaven avert such 
 a fate from any of the fair beings within the circle of 
 our readers ! And for the fiend who would thus sport 
 with the affections of a woman — a fond and con- 
 fiding creature of the gentler sex — and then tearing 
 the mask from his features, disclose to her the monster 
 upon whom she had bestowed her hand and lavished 
 her heart, if there be a lower deep than the raging and 
 burning abyss of his own conscience, such must be his 
 merited portion. 
 
 Avoid, we pray you, gentle readers, a discordant, a 
 merely ambitious, or a mercenary marriage. Avoid, 
 as you would a serpent, the smooth-tongued villain, 
 with a fair face, a fine form, and subtle tongue — a hol- 
 low smile, and a hand with no heart in it — who prowls 
 
56 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 about seeking to betray. The Italian bravo, who 
 creeps through the shades with a poniard beneath his 
 cloak, is a noble spirit compared with such a wretch. 
 The one dooms his victim to a single blow and a rapid 
 death — the other protracts the dreadful process for 
 years, and snaps the cords of the heart one by one, and 
 each with added anguish. 
 
 But there is a bright contrast to this picture. Matri- 
 mony, rightly understood, is an arrangement between 
 two individuals of different sexes to dwell together in 
 unity, to administer as much as possible to the worldly 
 felicity of each other, to reconcile the disposition, to 
 adapt the temper, to exercise the mind, to regulate the 
 taste, to select the society, to pursue the employment, 
 and to act in every situation of life in the manner 
 best calculated to strengthen the tie entered into vol- 
 untarily, solemnly, and with the motive — for such 
 should ever be the motive — of assisting our own as 
 well as the happiness of our partner, Ko human 
 being should look for unalloyed felicity in any merely 
 mortal or earthly position. "Hope not for perfect 
 happiness," said Madame de Maintenon to the Princess 
 of Savoy, on the eve of her marriage with the Duke of 
 Burgundy; "there is no such thing on earth, and 
 though there were, it does not consist in the posses- 
 sion of riches. Greatness is exposed to afflictions often 
 more severe than those of a private station. Be 
 neither vexed, nor ashamed, to depend on your hus- 
 band. Let him be your dearest friend, your only con- 
 fidant. Hope not for constant harmony in the married 
 state. The best husbands and wives are those who 
 bear occasionally, from each other, sallies of ill-humor 
 with patient mildness. Be obliging, without putting 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 57 
 
 great value on your favors. Hope not for a full re- 
 turn of tenderness. Men are tyrants, who would fye 
 free themselves and have us confined. You need not 
 I e at the pains to examine whether their rights be 
 well founded : it is enough that they are established. 
 Pray Grod to keep you from jealousy. The affections 
 of a husband are never to be gained by complaints, re- 
 proaches, or sullen behavior." 
 
 This is a noble lesson from one of the most distin- 
 guished of her sex. 
 
 As a sort of counterpart, we may refer to an anec- 
 dote related by Cobbett, the celebrated political writer. 
 He states that, although very frequently called from 
 home by business, he never in a solitary instance dis- 
 appointed his wife as to the hour of his return. If the 
 time of return was contingent, he never failed to keep 
 her informed from day to day — if the time was fixed, 
 his arrival at the specified hour was as sure as his life. 
 On one occasion going from London to Botley, with a 
 gentleman named Finnerty, the two stopped at Alton 
 to dine with a friend, who, delighted with Finnerty's 
 conversation, kept them till eleven o'clock, and then 
 was about to call for another bottle of wine. Cobbett 
 protested, and said he must go home, that his wife 
 would be alarmed. 
 
 "'Blood, man," said Finnerty, "you do not mean to 
 go home to-night." 
 
 Cobbett said he did, and sent his son to bring out 
 his vehicle. The distance was twenty-three miles, and 
 on the way the two debated the question whether 
 Mrs. Cobbett would be up to receive them. Cobbett 
 contended for the affirmative and Finnerty for the 
 negative. 
 
58 COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 
 
 She was up, and had a nice fire for them to & -. 
 down before. She had not committed the matter to a 
 servant; her children were all in bed — and she was 
 in readiness to perform the duty of receiving her hus- 
 band and his friend. 
 
 " You did not expect him?" said Finnerty. 
 
 " To be sure I did," said she ; " he never disap- 
 pointed me in his life." 
 
 If all young men knew how much value women at- 
 tach to this species of fidelity, there would be fewer 
 unhappy couples in the world. 
 
 Well regulated marriages, formed upon these prin- 
 ciples, seldom result but in an increase of pros- 
 perity and happiness. We speak of course in a 
 comparative sense, for marriage, while it adds to the 
 sources of enjoyment and to the aggregate of human 
 felicity, also increases the responsibilities of our con- 
 dition, and discloses in most cases new sources of anx- 
 iety and care. But it is the condition intended by 
 the Creator for man from the foundation of the world 
 and must therefore have been designed for good. A 
 happy marriage — a union of feeling, of sentiment and 
 of tastes, is indeed, if not the only, the chief u bliss 
 that survived the fall." " Blessed," says one of the 
 sacred writers, " is the man that hath a virtuous wife, 
 for the number of his days shall be doubled." 
 
 " Ocean and land the globe divide, 
 Summer and winter share the year ; 
 Darkness and light -walk side by side, 
 And earth and heaven are always near. 
 
 " Though each be good and fair alone, 
 And glorious in its time and place ; 
 In all, when fitly pair'd, are shown 
 More of their Maker's power and grace." 
 
COURTSHIP AND MATRIMONY. 59 
 
 " A man happily married," says an old author, u is 
 like the bee that fixes his hive, augments the world, 
 benefits the republic, and by a daily diligence, without 
 wronging any, profits all." 
 
 We can conceive of no more heaven-like circle 
 than is embraced within the limits of a virtuous and a 
 happy family. The father forms the centre of that 
 little world, and by precept and example dispenses 
 blessings and sunshine around him. His smile (like 
 the centre of our Solar system) serves to irradiate the 
 whole scene — to throw beauty upon the features of 
 the chosen one of his youth, and kindle light upon the 
 foreheads of his children. There is nothing beneath 
 the skies more ennobling to human nature than such 
 a household. No example is more salutary for good. 
 Its influence extends beyond that single roof, and has 
 its effect upon society at large. There are few among 
 us who cannot call up from among friends and neigh- 
 bors, examples of the kind referred to. Where Mild- 
 ness and Virtue, Kindness and Love, Industry and 
 Peace, go hand in hand together ! Where a cheerful 
 and contented spirit chases away the gloom of the 
 world, and Keligion, with her sweet lessons of philos- 
 ophy, chastens and purifies the desires of the heart! 
 Where the head of the family is recognized and re- 
 spected as such; and the greatest happiness of all 
 within that circle is derived from his approving smile. 
 Where the low sweet voice of woman is seldom heard 
 but in accents of gentleness and love, and the name 
 of mother is never uttered, unassociated with some en- 
 dearing epithet. 
 
 Such a family — and within its limits may be found 
 all the elements of human bliss this side the grave — 
 
60 NEVER GIVE UP. 
 
 can only be collected together under the influence of 
 a happy marriage. A union of hearts as well as of 
 hands — a tie consecrated by pure and chaste affection — » 
 an engagement formed upon earth but sanctioned and 
 ratified by Heaven. On such a union the angels who 
 dwell in the bright abodes of the blest ; must downward 
 turn their spiritual and starry eyes, and while they 
 gaze with looks of interest and love, delight in and 
 rejoice over the scene. 
 
 lete §ik f jr! %u lirciktt ia $eal fife. 
 
 " Never give up ! It is wiser and better 
 
 Always to hope than once to despair ; 
 Fling off the load of doubt's cankering fetter, 
 
 And break the dark spell of tyrannical care ; 
 Never give np ! or the burthen may sink you — 
 
 Providence kindly has mingled the cup, 
 And in all trials or troubles bethink you, 
 
 The watchward of life must be, Never give up !" 
 
 THEEE is a manly energy in the doctrine, that we 
 should not permit ourselves to be overcome by 
 common-place or even extraordinary reverses of for- 
 tune. " Never say die I" " Never give up !" are capital 
 mottoos with regard to enterprise, business, and the 
 things of this life generally. If we give way to de- 
 pression of spirits, and at the first reverse abandon 
 the chase of fortune as hopeless, we will soon sink 
 into despondency, gloom, idleness, and perhaps vice. 
 But let us determine that come what may, we will 
 etill struggle on ; that while life and health remain, we 
 
NEVER GIVE UP. 61 
 
 will still make an effort to achieve independence; and 
 in a majority of cases, sooner or later, success will come. 
 
 A friend stepped into our office a day or two ago, 
 and in the course of conversation related an incident 
 well calculated to illustrate the force and propriety of 
 energy and perseverance. He had visited Washington 
 a few weeks before; and while standing on Penn- 
 sylvania Avenue, gazing at some object of interest, 
 he was accosted by a stranger, as one he had seen and 
 known in years gone by. 
 
 Ah! inquired the other, when and where? After 
 some conversation, in the course of which a degree 
 of confidence was inspired between the parties, it 
 turned out that the stranger had reference to a period 
 of twenty years before in Philadelphia — that he was 
 then a poor boy about seven years old, and was in the 
 habit of visiting the workshop at which the other was 
 engaged, for the purpose of collecting chips and 
 shavings. The kind manner of the apprentice had 
 made a favorable impression upon the heart and mind 
 of the then bare-footed urchin ; and although a period 
 of nearly a quarter of a century had elapsed, he recog- 
 nized the friend of his early days at a glance, and was 
 anxious in some way to testify his appreciation of the 
 kindness rendered in the hours of his boyhood. 
 
 After some further conversation, he gave a brief out- 
 line of his history. Before he was eight years of age, 
 his father, who was wretchedly poor, died in the Alms 
 House, and the little fellow was compelled to beg cold 
 victuals from door to door, in order to prevent the 
 family from starving. Still he had correct principles, 
 and was anxious to make a respectable figure in the 
 world. He accordingly indentured himself to a house- 
 
62 NEVER GIVE UP. 
 
 carpenter, and while engaged in learning the business, 
 he obtained a copy of the Life of Franklin, which he 
 studied with great attention, in order, as he said, to 
 acquire a knowledge of proper habits of economy, and 
 not with any notion of becoming a philosopher. He 
 persevered, became master of his trade, worked with 
 success as a journeyman, removed to Washington, and 
 in 1836 had accumulated enough to build two or three 
 houses. A balance was still due on them, however ; 
 and the troubles of 1837 coming on, adversity over- 
 took him, his property was sold by the sheriff, and he 
 was again reduced to poverty. But he remembered his 
 boyhood, the destitution of that period of his life, the 
 manner in which he had overcome adversity by perse- 
 verance, and he determined never to give up I 
 
 His worldly wealth consisted of one bed and a little 
 furniture ; and with this niggardly provision for such 
 an undertaking, he consulted his better half, (for, like 
 a wise man, he had married the moment he felt able 
 to take care of a wife,) who was a true and brave- 
 hearted woman, and they determined to make an effort 
 to obtain one or two boarders. Two young friends 
 agreed to assist them in the way proposed, and to 
 these was awarded the only bed in the house, while 
 the husband and wife purchased a few bundles of 
 straw, upon which they slept soundly and happily for 
 many a month. Slowly and gradually fortune bright- 
 ened again, employment was procured, savings were 
 laid by, the journeyman became a master carpenter, 
 he obtained one or two contracts from Government ; 
 and although not yet thirty years of age, he is in easy 
 and independent, if not in affluent circumstances. 
 
 He concluded his brief story by remarking that it 
 
NEVER GIVE UP. 63 
 
 would afford him infinite pleasure, if the old friend to 
 whom he had thus strangely introduced himself after 
 an absence of more than twenty years, would, while 
 he remained in Washington, make his house his home. 
 He said that there were still many recollections of his 
 early years, which he cherished with delight; and that 
 on a recent visit to Philadelphia, he had wandered 
 over the haunts of his childhood, and endeavored to 
 learn something of the history of his youthful com- 
 panions — most of them, like himself, children of dis- 
 tress and poverty. In the majority of cases, the results 
 were melancholy. Poor, friendless, and to some ex- 
 tent, deserted, but- few had wrestled with and risen 
 above the untoward circumstances by which they had 
 been surrounded. There were cases, however, in 
 which patience, perseverance, and constant appeals to 
 and dependence upon Providence, had lifted the 
 orphan, the outcast, and the beggar from a lowly con- 
 dition of penury and trial, and rendered them good 
 citizens, devoted husbands, kind parents, useful and 
 valuable members of society. But, he added, the 
 doctrine of all who are depressed — of the children of 
 toil and misfortune, no matter how dark the present 
 may seem, should be — Persevere, persevere — never 
 give up! For who, he continued, who may read 
 the future, w r ho may foretell the events of a single 
 year ? And he was right. In the language of a deep 
 thinker, "Duties are ours, but events are God's." 
 " Clouds and darkness" may lower to-day, but sunshine 
 and prosperity may brighten and beautify to-morrow. 
 Let us struggle on then, let us never despair. — 
 
 " Never give up ! there are chances and changes 
 Helping the hopeful a hundred to one, 
 
64: SUCCESS AND FAILURE. 
 
 And, through the chaos, high Wisdom arranges 
 Ever success — if you'll only hope on ; 
 
 Never give up ! for the wisest is boldest, 
 Knowing that Providence mingles the cup ; 
 
 And of all maxims the best, as the oldest, 
 Is the true watchword of— Never give up !" 
 
 %>mm aith Jate.— % \t Mm nf \\i W&A 
 
 " A friend in need," &c. 
 
 " The noisy praise of giddy crowds is changeable as winds." 
 
 "Fortune in men has some small difference made.' 
 
 " Let not one look of fortune cast you down." 
 
 IT is sometimes amusing, as well as instructive, to 
 watch the changes in popular opinion and feeling ; to 
 note the rapidity with which revolutions in sentiment 
 take place. We have had some forcible illustrations 
 within a few years in Paris. At one moment Lamar- 
 tine was the idol of the hour ; at another Cavaignac ; 
 at another Louis Napoleon. Whose turn will come 
 next, it is impossible to predict. Within a single 
 week, and the popular enthusiasm shifted from the 
 weak but ambitious pretender, to the modest but ener- 
 getic military chieftain. True, the Parisians are among 
 the most impulsive people on earth, and some allow- 
 ance should therefore be made for their fickleness, their 
 mutability. But mankind everywhere are the same 
 to a certain extent. We are creatures of the hour, 
 and are moved and moulded by circumstances, by ex- 
 citements, and by necessities, which few attempt to 
 
SUCCESS AND FAILURE bb 
 
 analyze or restrain. Ten years ago, and two yonng 
 gentlemen graduated at one of the leading colleges of 
 our country, with equal honors ; and started upon the 
 voyage of commercial and professional life with equal 
 prospects. Their habits were good, their minds were 
 good, they were highly educated, and had many friends. 
 At the moment, both promised to pursue a career of 
 prosperity, if not to obtain positions of eminence. It 
 so happened, however, that at the end of ten years, 
 one of these young men, who may be designated as 
 Howard, had already accumulated a considerable for- 
 tune, was a partner in a leading mercantile house, and 
 was regarded as on the most favorable road to wealth. 
 He had been, happy in the choice of his business, had 
 luckily associated with partners of activity, ability, 
 and means, had experienced few losses, and had thus 
 in a short time, comparatively speaking, won his way 
 to an enviable position. He was courted, flattered and 
 eulogized. The best circles were opened to his society, 
 his talents as a business man were warmly approved, 
 his character stood high, and being a favorite of for- 
 tune, he was also a favorite with the multitude. The 
 companion of his college hours had toiled with like, 
 if not with more zeal and fidelity, but in another path. 
 He had associated himself in a manufacturing establish- 
 ment ; and after having progressed very Well for a year 
 or two, was suddenly overwhelmed by one of those 
 revulsions, to which most commercial and manufactur- 
 ing countries are liable. Thus before he was thirty 
 years of age, he lost not only all the property that was 
 left to him by his father, but found himself twenty 
 thousand behindhand. When they started, be it re- 
 membered, both stood equally well with their fellow- 
 
66 SUCCESS AND FAILUEE. 
 
 citizens. They were equally respected, esteemed, and 
 admired. But at the end of ten years, one was a bank- 
 rupt, and the other was considered rich, and the way 
 to wealth still open before him. 
 
 And did the world make any difference in their 
 estimate of the two ? By the world, we mean the gene- 
 ral multitude — the thoughtless and the reckless, the 
 selfish and the mercenary. We need scarcely answer 
 the question. True, there were some — but they were 
 few and far between — who, when misfortune came 
 upon the house with which Walsingham — a fictitious 
 name, of course — was connected, not only manifested 
 deep sympathy, but exhibited true and generous Men I- 
 ship in various ways. But there were others — alas ! 
 how many — who seemed to think that a change of for- 
 tune had changed the man ; who now avoided where 
 they before courted; who nodded coldly, or became 
 suddenly near-sighted ; and thus indicated, in a manner 
 not to be misunderstood, that while "Walsingham in 
 prosperity was a friend to be coveted and desired, the 
 same individual in adversity was a person to be 
 shunned and contemned. Success or failure made all 
 the difference. And is not this too often the case with 
 the world ? Is it not so in the battle-field — in profes- 
 sional life — among merchants, brokers, and men of 
 business generally ? Is not the question with the many 
 — How much is he worth ? — instead of — Is he worthy? 
 Are not the meritorious, but poor, too often neglecter* 
 and despised? Are not the profligate, if rich, par- 
 doned for their sins, and cherished for their gold ? Does 
 not a sudden downfall frequently drive away dozens 
 of fawners and flatterers, who before professed them- 
 selves earnest friends ? And is not this svstem calcu 
 
SUCCESS AND FAILURE. 67 
 
 lated to make men heartless, to deaden their sensibili- 
 ties, to dull their sympathies, and render them in some 
 degree inhuman ? Gan we wonder at the passion so 
 prevalent for wealth, when we see so many bowing 
 before the golden idol ? The old, too, the feeble and 
 the tottering. With what tenacity do they hug their 
 money-bags! Life to them is unwinding the last 
 thread, and yet they act as if years and years were before 
 them. Poverty and misery are around them in many 
 shapes ; they have the means of relief, but they post- 
 pone, from day to day, in a selfish and mercenary 
 spirit, until at last Death comes, and finds the good 
 work unfinished — nay, not commenced. True, there 
 are exceptions, glorious exceptions, but how rare! 
 How seldom do we hear that an individual who, with 
 an income of thousands, having heard of some case of 
 unexpected disaster, immediately proffered aid in a 
 generous and disinterested spirit, and thus established 
 the bond of humanity between man and man. No! 
 the disposition, when one is on the fiigh road to fame 
 and to fortune, is to join in the general shout ; and 
 when the picture is reversed, when some citizen has 
 been stopped midway in a career that seemed one of 
 promise, is crushed by a blow and overwhelmed in an 
 instant — then, alas ! the multitude discover a thousand 
 errors in the past, and qualify their sympathy with 
 all sorts of innuendoes. Many who before envied, 
 now exult; while those who were loudest in their 
 professions of friendship, disappear like flies in a 
 tempest. 
 
j$#|jrasesaim : Calmness, lipit- attb 
 Crarage. 
 
 " The brave man is not lie who feels no fear, 
 For that were stupid and irrational ; 
 But he whose noble soul its fear subdues, 
 And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from." — Joanna Baillie. 
 
 " Unaw'd by power, and unappall'd by fear." — Goldsmith. 
 
 THE importance of self-possession cannot be too ear- 
 nestly urged. The quality should be inculcated 
 in our children, as essential to the proper guidance and 
 government of their thoughts, feelings and actions dur- 
 ing life. The cool and collected man possesses great ad- 
 vantages over the impatient, the impulsive and excited. 
 Let him have his thoughts about him, let him be 
 able to see things as they are, to discriminate between 
 the true and the false, to distinguish between the ex- 
 aggerated and the real — and his advantage will be im- 
 mense. How often do men betray, nay, destroy them- 
 selves by a rash word, or a thoughtless speech ! How 
 frequently do we act first and think thereafter ! A 
 few days since, a young gentleman of this city nar- 
 rowly escaped with his life, in consequence of the want 
 of self-possession. He was about passing one of our 
 streets, when he discovered a pair of horses in full 
 gallop, evidently goaded on by fright, and a broken 
 vehicle which they drew after them, the driver having 
 a few minute before been dashed to the earth. He 
 would have been perfectly safe had he paused, and 
 (68) 
 
SELF-POSSESSION. 69 
 
 permitted the affrighted animals to dash by him. But 
 he lost his self-possession, became confused, and in- 
 stead of standing still, rushed across the street, and 
 thus threw himself into a position of awful peril. He 
 escaped, but it was as by a miracle. 
 
 Yet the impetuosity of some natures, the rash 
 hasty, and reckless spirit by which many acts of their 
 lives are characterized, are so well known, that the won- 
 der is, not that accidents sometimes happen, but that 
 casualties of the kind are so rare. Not a day goes by 
 that individuals do not risk their lives in springing 
 from steamboats as they near the landing. They be- 
 come excited and impatient, and rather than pause for 
 a few seconds or a few minutes, they take fearful, peril- 
 ous, and sometimes suicidal leaps. Little is gained in 
 any case by this heedless and reckless policy. Its 
 general influence upon life is disastrous. Self-posses- 
 sion exibits a beautiful contrast to impetuosity, and is 
 certain in the end to prove more available. The sub- 
 ject might be illustrated by many forcible anecdotes. 
 We some time since read an exciting sketch of an inci- 
 dent in France, in which a lady proved herself a true 
 wife, a fearless, calm-minded and heroic woman. She 
 lived in a retired village, and her husband had gone 
 to a neighboring city for the purpose of receiving a 
 large sum of money. His absence had been longer 
 than he had anticipated, and she at last became not a 
 little anxious. The day, too, was one of storm; and 
 as the night approached the rain fell in torrents, the 
 wind howled around the tenement, limbs of trees were 
 dashed against the window panes, and the aspect of 
 affairs in the out-door world was cold, raw, and 
 frightful. She expressed her anxiety to her house- 
 4 
 
70 SELF-POSSESSION. 
 
 maid ; and while doing so, the embers in the fireplace, 
 agitated by the wind, cast a lurid light, and she saw in 
 a recess concealed by the curtains, what she at first be- 
 lieved to be the heavy shoes of a man ! Not a little 
 terrified, she turned again, and her first impression was 
 confirmed. For an instant she was unnerved, but only 
 for an instant. She repeatedly supposed that she heard 
 the sound of a horse's hoofs in the distance, and looked 
 out hopefully but in vain. At last, however, her ears 
 did not deceive her. The horse and horseman ap- 
 proached, the door was thrown open, and she sprang 
 to the embrace of her husband ! In the act she con- 
 trived to direct his attention to the recess. He saw, 
 and the truth flashed upon him in an instant. In re- 
 ply to a question, he said that he had been successful 
 in his mission, that the money was in his saddle-bags, 
 and he would immediately obtain and return with it 
 to the house. He disappeared for a few minutes ; but 
 during that brief period loaded his pistols, and thus 
 armed, he confronted, seized and captured the robber! 
 It subsequently transpired that the maid was a confeder- 
 ate. And the villain confessed that if he had thought 
 for a moment that he had been detected, he would 
 have murdered the faithful wife, plundered the house, and 
 effected his escape ! 
 
 On the battle-field, self-possession is one of the most 
 essential of qualities. Many illustrations are given in 
 the career of Napoleon. On one occasion his aids 
 were at a distance, and it was important that a dis- 
 patch should be prepared. A man was called from 
 the ranks who could write. Junot immediately 
 stepped forward, and with a drumhead as a desk, 
 wrote as the great chieftain desired. While thus en • 
 
SELF-POSSESSION. 71 
 
 gaged, a cannon ball fell so near them, that the dust 
 of the earth was dashed in their faces. Junot coolly 
 remarked : " It is in good time — we were just in want of 
 sandr The expression, under the circumstances, was 
 a key to the character of the man. From that mo- 
 ment he rose gradually, step by step, until he became 
 the Duke of Abrantes! 
 
 On the ocean, too, where the incidents are frequently 
 of a nature at once momentous and thrilling, self- 
 possession is all-essential. Many years ago, the cap- 
 tain of an English frigate was overtaken by a terrific 
 storm as he approached the Irish coast. The danger 
 became imminent — so much so, that the helmsman, 
 overwhelmed with apprehension, lost his presence of 
 mind. At this, nearly all on board became terrified, 
 and despair was pictured upon every countenance. 
 The captain, however, was every way suited to the 
 crisis. He was himself a superior navigator, was 
 calm, cool and collected, and saw that his only chance 
 was in firmness, decision, and self-possession. He 
 seized the helm, reassured his dispirited crew, and 
 coolly and cautiously steered the ship over a reef of 
 concealed and dangerous rocks ! The peril was fear- 
 ful, for the keel of the vessel actually grazed as she 
 passed. The hour was indeed one of awful anxiety, 
 and the slightest manifestation of fear or irresolution 
 would doubtless have been fatal to the vessel and all 
 on board. But the cool, the daring, the self-possessed, 
 were combined in the master, " monarch of her peopled 
 deck." The difficulty was surmounted — and the dan- 
 ger passed. And thus it is in the multitude of cases. 
 The calm, the firm, the right and the self-possessed are 
 the true heroes of our race ! 
 
% Start in fife: Sljc €\mt of a profession. 
 
 ' Ho ! ye upon whose fevered cheeks 
 
 The hectic glow is bright, 
 Whose mental toil wears out the day 
 
 And half the weary night, 
 Who labor for the souls of men, 
 
 Champions of truth and right — 
 Although ye feel your toil is hard, 
 
 Even with this glorious view, 
 Remember it is harder still 
 
 To have no work to do." 
 
 AN EMINENT writer remarks that "men who are 
 laborious succeed in life, if to their industry they 
 couple wisdom." In other words, " success in our un- 
 dertakings is the effect, not only of toil, but of proper 
 choice of one's work. la making the great task of 
 life, we should never attempt any thing that we deem 
 impossible or impracticable to be attained." These 
 are valuable hints, and especially to young men 
 who are about starting in life, or who are on the eve 
 of choosing a profession or business. Thousands fail, 
 because they adopt callings for which they are un- 
 suited. Every year hundreds of young men select 
 the medical as a profession for which they are par- 
 ticularly calculated. The ambition to become useful 
 or distinguished in a calling of such responsibility is 
 most laudable ; and a medical education can never be 
 acquired without some advantage. But the chances 
 are, that not -more than five in fifty who practice 
 medicine or surgery are really qualified — qualified by 
 (72) 
 
A START IN LIFE. 73 
 
 strength of judgment, acquaintance with human 
 nature, boldness of hand in the performance of diffi- 
 cult operations, evenness of temper, and knowledge of 
 the human frame and its liability to disease. And it 
 is thus with other callings. The mistake is made at 
 the outset, and more frequently by parents than chil- 
 dren. We are all apt to fancy our own peculiarly 
 endowed, remarkably intelligent, and thus fitted to 
 shine in and adorn any position in life. We are, 
 moreover, naturally vain and ambitious. Each de- 
 sires to see his respective family elevated. This is a 
 laudable desire, but it should not be indulged at the 
 expense of the permanent happiness and prosperity of 
 oar children. We should give them every advantage 
 of education and improvement within our means. But 
 then, we should endeavor to select for them a business 
 ! or profession, in which they may seem suited by habit 
 and mind to prosper. We should not yield to false 
 notions of pride, and thus sacrifice the hopes of beings 
 every way dear to us. We should not make the mis- 
 take of supposing that a man may not attain eminence 
 and position just as rapidly through the agency of 
 some mechanical pursuit or mercantile calling, as by 
 means of either of the more polished professions. 
 Franklin, the great philosopher, was a printer. 
 
 We should remember that our son may be especially 
 suited to flourish as a merchant, an active trading and 
 business man. and yet be wholly disqualified to shine 
 as a clergyman, a physician, or a lawyer. How fear- 
 ful are the errors upon this point ? How many sacri 
 fices are made ? How parents mistake not only the 
 capacity of their children, but mislead them, induce 
 them to attempt enterprises for which they are not 
 
74 A START IN LIFE. 
 
 competent, and thus compel them to a path which is 
 sure to lead to disappointment, and perhaps to ruin 
 and despair. Such conduct is not only short-sighted, 
 but it is cruel, nay, wicked. There is no more re- 
 sponsible task — no more sacred obligation than that 
 confided to us in the care of our offspring. Nature 
 and duty urge us to do all that may be fairly done, 
 to promote their temporal and eternal welfare. We 
 should teach them, in the first place, that the lot of man 
 is to toil, and thus we should inculcate habits of in- 
 dustry. We should strengthen their moral nature 
 and develop their mental — and then exercise a calm 
 and disinterested judgment with reference to their 
 choice of a means of livelihood. Vanity should not 
 blind, pride should not mislead us. The greenness and 
 freshness of youth should not be wasted upon some 
 idle phantom, some absurd delusion, some scheme or 
 plan involved in doubt and uncertainty. 
 
 When an individual is about to obtain, for ornament 
 or for use, some costly work of Art, he is sure to look 
 around, and select from the multitude of pretenders and 
 professors the one best qualified to give satisfaction — 
 the one who by experience, by genius, by tact or by per- 
 severance, has shown himself capable. And thus again, 
 when a sensible parent is about to carve out for his 
 child a path calculated to lead to position and pros- 
 perity, he should be careful to analyze that child's 
 ability, disposition, taste and turn of mind, and thus, as 
 tar as possible, to adapt the calling to the youth, the 
 task to the capacity. For otherwise, he might as readily 
 anticipate success, as to look for a perfect statue from 
 the hands of an ordinary marble mason, or a glowing 
 landscape from those of an inferior sign painter. Ws 
 
THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 75 
 
 are aware of the difficulties in such cases, of the falli- 
 bility of human judgment, of the mistakes to which 
 the best and the wisest are liable. But, to turn again to 
 the author from whose admirable essay we have given 
 a quotation at the commencement of this article, " the 
 chances of failure will be few, if, after having made 
 what we deem a proper choice in life, we bend all our 
 forces to the task, and avail ourselves of all the means 
 that are requisite." 
 
 &jt gflirana of $eal f ife ~-|Mrats farm % 
 
 " A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 
 We bid be quiet when we hear it cry ; 
 But were we burtheu'd with like weight of pain 
 As much or more we should ourselves complain." — Shakspeare. 
 
 " How chang'd since last her speaking eye 
 Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room ; 
 Where high-born men were proud to wait, 
 Where beauty watch'd to imitate." — Byron. 
 
 THE lights and shadows of real life are often in 
 painful contrast. The extremes in a crowded 
 metropolis are indeed widely apart. Wealth, and 
 pomp, and power, and pride, may be seen basking in 
 the sunshine of prosperity in one section of the city, 
 while in another, poverty and want, and weakness and 
 wretchedness may be found dragging on a weary ex- 
 istence, and almost hesitating between life and death. 
 The cases, too, are not rare, in which these contrasts 
 
76 THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 are still more startling, in which the indigent of early 
 youth will be recognized among the affluent of the 
 present time, and the rich man of a former day be dis- 
 covered in the very depths of penury, and some- 
 times of crime. But in no case should we wholly 
 despair. There is an avenue to every heart. There 
 are seasons when the most hardened may be softened. 
 Somewhat more than a year ago, a gentleman of 
 Philadelphia was invited by a friend in New York to 
 visit the notorious " Five Points," under the guidance 
 of a police-officer: the object being two-fold — the 
 gratification of curiosity, and the inculcation of a moral 
 lesson. The invitation was accepted ; and the party, 
 soon after nightfall, proceeded to penetrate into some 
 of the deplorable mysteries of the commercial metrop- 
 olis of the New World. It is unnecessary for us to 
 enter into all the details. They would form only a 
 twice-told tale, and prove any thing but agreeable. 
 Our friend, however, as he passed through one of the 
 most wretched portions of the Points, had his atten- 
 tion arrested by a face that he thought he recognized. 
 He paused — old, familiar memories came back to him, 
 and he mentioned the name of a school-mate, an early 
 friend of his boyish years ! The bloated and disfigured 
 being was roused by the utterance of his name by a 
 stranger, and especially as the tone was of regret, not 
 unmingled with regard. His story may soon be told. 
 He was a gay youth, fond of the delights of convivial 
 companionship ; and even before he attained the years 
 of manhood he was a drunkard. Many expedients 
 were resorted to, to reclaim him, but without success. 
 At last he became a gambler, then a forger — and then 
 a convict ! His poor old father, who had exhausted 
 
THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 77 
 
 all his means to rescue him, descended broken-hearted 
 to the grave. The erring was still a young man, com- 
 paratively speaking, only thirty-five years of age, pos- 
 sessed fine talents, and was highly educated. But, 
 intemperance had become a disease with him. He had 
 attempted more than once to wrestle with and conquer 
 the Kum Fiend, but in vain. He admitted his error, 
 deplored it, spoke feelingly of the past, and asked if 
 his mother still lived. His friend besought him to make 
 yet another effort. He hesitated at first, said that it 
 was idle, that he had lost all self-respect, self-command, 
 and self-reliance, and felt that he would soon sink into 
 a dishonored grave. But his friend urged, persuaded, 
 and at last prevailed. He took him to a mercantile 
 house in New York, where he stated the facts confi- 
 dentially, and obtained for him a situation. The selec- 
 tion was most fortunate. The firm consisted of two 
 brothers, true Christians and philanthropists, and they 
 entered heartily into the benevolent enterprise. Their 
 policy was one of kindness — confidence — generosity. They 
 appealed to the heart — touched the feelings ; and rather 
 by acts than words. They uttered no reproaches — no 
 threats — made no harsh allusions, but addressed them- 
 selves to the better nature within — the loftier and holier 
 qualities that had been embittered, concealed, and hid- 
 den so long. And they were successful. The heart 
 was touched and subdued. The fires of virtue were 
 rekindled — the lamp of mind was replenished — the 
 moral vigor of character was resuscitated. Nearly 
 a year has gone by, and the reclaimed continues to 
 pursue the way of well-doing — to gather strength and 
 courage and determination with every hour of his ex- 
 istence, He is a new man — a soul redeemed — and an 
 
78 THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 honor to the true spirits who rendered him " aid and 
 comfort" in his extremity — who nerved and assisted 
 the rightful impulses of his better nature. 
 
 On another occasion, a gentleman from Baltimore 
 visited the same fearful region of the "Five Points/' 
 and there recognized, among the fallen and degraded, 
 one who five years before had been regarded as a 
 beauty and a belle of the Monumental city. She was won 
 from her father's house by a villain, who soon deserted 
 her ; and then mocked at and denounced by her rela- 
 tives, her fall was awfully rapid. She was, indeed, an 
 outcast, and abandoned creature ; and all attempts to 
 reclaim her were jeered at, and in a tone and with lan- 
 guage that startled and appalled. And yet one so 
 utterly lost might have been saved, at first, by kindness 
 and sympathy ; might have been won back to the paths 
 of well-doing, had not a father's false pride and bitter 
 imprecations thrilled in her ears, and maddened her 
 heart and brain. And such are the vicissitudes — such 
 the sad realities of life. 
 
 " It is my full and firm belief," says an eminent au- 
 thor, " that if, on any given day of any given year, 
 you were, dear reader, to take the accurate history of 
 any five square miles — not exactly a desert — upon the 
 solid surface of the earth, and examine with a micro- 
 scope the acts and deeds, the circumstances, the acci- 
 dents, and the fate of the people upon it, you would 
 find strange romances enough going on to stock a 
 library. Look into a cottage, what will you find? 
 Perhaps a romance of love and tenderness struggling 
 with sorrows, difficulties, and penury — perhaps a broad 
 farce of a quarrelsome wife, and a drunken husband — 
 perhaps a tragedy of sin, crime, and misery. Look 
 
THE EOMANCE OF KEAL LIFE. 79 
 
 into that stately mansion, the house of a great mer- 
 chant, what is there? It may be the comedy of 
 purse-proud affectation; it may be the tale of the 
 tenderest affections and highest qualities; or it may 
 show that agonizing struggle which the falling man 
 makes to sustain himself, upon the edge of the preci- 
 pice, at the foot of which he is soon to lie, dashed to 
 pieces." 
 
 The romance of real life is full of touching interest 
 — of solemn warning. Only yesterday we were called 
 upon by a Son of Temperance — now a plain, honest, 
 and hard-working mechanic, who for years was an 
 utter sot, to the annoyance and pain of his family, and 
 the disgrace of human nature. He told us his story, 
 sketched some of the awful scenes through which he 
 had passed, admitted that he had been, for the greater 
 part of his life, one of the most degraded of human 
 beings, and finally thanked Heaven that he had at last 
 been able to wrestle with and overcome the tempter, 
 and could point to his own case, by way of illustrat- 
 ing the doctrine, that while there is life there is hope. 
 
 The beggars of our streets all have a history. The 
 tenants of our almshouses, the inmates of our jails, 
 have many of them " seen better days," and been top- 
 pled from positions of character and independence by 
 temptations, and trials, and circumstances, well calcu- 
 lated to excite commiseration. A day or two ago we 
 read a poem from, the pen of a prisoner in the Eastern 
 State Penitentiary, admirably calculated to show that, 
 even within the stony walls of that gloomy abode, 
 there are hearts among the convicts not wholly insen- 
 sible. The lines were addressed to " A Bird on the 
 Lattice ;" and among them were these : 
 
80 THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 " Could'st thou impart thy wing to me, 
 Far from this dismal gloom I'd flee, 
 And to the woods along with thee, 
 
 Sweet bird, I'd go ; 
 And there my notes, as joyously, 
 
 Each morn should flow. 
 
 " No ! should I to the woods repair, 
 Not even there thy peace I'd share — 
 Till angels from my breast should tear 
 
 This wretched heart ; 
 And one like thine, as spotless, fair, 
 To me impart." 
 
 A New York journalist thus sketches one of the 
 curiosities of Broadway : — 
 
 " Among the crowd of jaunty and hirsute men, and 
 graceful and elegant women that throng along this 
 great highway, is seen almost every day a lean and 
 haggard beggar woman, who might serve a painter-for 
 an impersonation of Famine. A tall, gaunt, bony 
 form, enveloped in a dirty drapery of rags ; sallow and 
 angular features, out of which glimmer two dark and 
 imploring eyes; long, straight black hair.; thin, bony, 
 and attenuated palms, which are stretched out im- 
 ploringly to every passer, complete a picture of misery 
 which must attract the attention of all who have eyes 
 for what is remarkable or peculiar. Eembrandt 
 would have put such an object upon canvass with a 
 verisimilitude that would have made it a subject of uni- 
 versal admiration; and yet the reality itself, pic- 
 turesque and suggestive as it is, attracts but a passing 
 and unconscious glance from the many who encounter 
 it in their daily walks. 
 
 " One would think that the wretchedness and de- 
 gradation stamped upon every lineament of thia 
 woman, .were a sufficient capital for her beggarly occu- 
 pation. She seems to think so; for we have never 
 
THE ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 81 
 
 heard her speak a word. She supplicates only with 
 her eyes ; and we confess that we never can look upon 
 her without an uneasy sensation, and an irresistible 
 propensity to fumble in our not over well lined pock- 
 ets. We know nothing of her history ; but there is 
 that in her face which we think would reward an 
 inquiry. Like a fragment of ancient sculpture, or 
 the ruins of some antique structure, it suggests a 
 faded and forgotten beauty and usefulness. This, how- 
 ever, may be imagination ; or it may be that this ear- 
 nestness of face is the product of a long life- struggle 
 with the temptations and difficulties of poverty and vice. 
 Sorrows, such as the poor and outcast suffer, deepen 
 the expression of countenance as much as long habits 
 of thought ; as no one who has much intercourse with 
 what are called " the lower orders" can fail to observe. 
 The poor, in the various shifts they are put to, find 
 exercise for their wits ; and those who have most need 
 of sympathy are often the most keenly alive to the 
 kindliest impressions. 
 
 And what may have been the history of this poor 
 beggar? How was her girlhood passed? Who were 
 the protectors of her childhood, and of her early 
 youth ? What were the temptations and trials by 
 which she was surrounded? How were her mind and 
 heart cultivated? Wherefore is it that she is thus 
 miserable? Is she friendless, is she childless? — and if 
 a mother, what has become of her offspring ? Who 
 may detail her history — who imagine her sufferings ! 
 " Human life is a strange thing, consider it in what 
 way we will." The future — who shall read the future, 
 even of this world ? 
 
 Yonder passes the heir to a large fortune — a young 
 
82 TEMPTATION. 
 
 man of twenty -five ! A fortnight since, and he was a 
 dependent upon a rich and rigid father. That father 
 now sleeps his last long sleep, and the son is master 
 of nearly half a million. But will it prove a blessing 
 or a curse? Will it protract or shorten his life? 
 Will it dignify or degrade his character ? Who may 
 draw aside the ve 1 ! and look into the mysteries of the 
 coming time ? 
 
 " Could'st thou boast, oh ! child of weakness, 
 O'er the sons of toil and strife, 
 Were their strong temptations planted, 
 In thy path of life?" 
 
 THE case of the three London bankers, who in 
 1857 were convicted of misappropriating certain 
 funds confided to their care, is well calculated to 
 admonish. It shows two things: in the first place, 
 the infatuation of false pkide ; and in the second, the 
 power of temptation. These wretched men were re- 
 puted to be rich, and their bank was one of the oldest 
 in the British metropolis, having been for more than 
 a century the property or under the control of some 
 of their ancestors. Thus, they were esteemed, respected, 
 and looked up to. They had a deep stake in the 
 establishment, and the idea of bankruptcy was one, no 
 doubt, from which they turned with horror. And 
 thus it was, that the alternative presented itself either 
 to employ the funds sacredly confided to their care, 
 
TEMPTATION. 83 
 
 with the object of extricating themselves from a 
 momentary difficulty, or to call their creditors together 
 and make a clean breast of it. The latter was, of 
 course, the true, the honest, the. straightforward policy. 
 But the former tempted the infatuated men, who per- 
 suaded themselves that all would soon be well again, 
 and whose pride of position induced them to turn with 
 agony from the very idea of a cloud or a stain upon 
 their credit. Hence, as we may infer, the false, th 
 guilty step and its consequences. 
 
 It is almost invariably so, under similar circum 
 stances. The first departure from the right path in- 
 duces an apparent necessity for other errors ; and thus 
 the bewildered and excited hurry on from step to step, 
 until ruin yawns before them. The power of tempta- 
 tion in cases of emergency is almost irresistible. It 
 has led to the ruin of thousands. The Syren whispers 
 in a subtle and seductive voice, and the victim who 
 listens is hurried on until madness rules the hour, and 
 all sense of propriety and justice is lost. How many 
 illustrations might be given. There is scarcely an in- 
 dividual who is not acquainted with some melancholy 
 case. Our own city has presented many, while the 
 monetary world is full of them. 
 
 No one can adequately appreciate his own moral 
 courage or moral weakness until both qualities have 
 been tested and tried. There are certain situations that 
 may be filled with perfect impunity, because they hold 
 out few or no temptations ; and there are others which 
 abound with peril to the yielding, the avaricious, the 
 impulsive, and the gay. Again, life in a great city 
 abounds with shoals and quicksands for the young, the 
 inexperienced, and the unsophisticated. The allure- 
 
84 TEMPTATION. 
 
 ments are so numerous, the pleasures so dazzling and 
 fascinating, the competitions of dress and fashion_so ex- 
 citing, that few can entirely resist them. Parents do not 
 sufficiently consider this view. Many young men have 
 been misled in this way, and overcome by the power 
 of some subtle temptation. Others over-estimate their 
 moral strength. They believe that they cannot be 
 moved or affected ; and under this impression; they 
 submit themselves to scenes and excitements, to society 
 and to allurements, for which they are totally unfitted, 
 and only discover their error when it is too late. 
 
 The delusion with most of those who are induced to 
 misapply funds, to commit forgeries, to obtain goods 
 under false pretences, is to persuade themselves that 
 they will correct the delinquency in time, and before 
 it is discovered. They deceive themselves with the 
 impression that their embarrassment is merely momen- 
 tary, and if they can only postpone the exposure for a 
 few weeks or a few months, all will be well again. 
 If, too, they are apparently successful with the first 
 effort, they become emboldened and blinded, and thus 
 even neglect the ordinary precautions. Nay, the 
 crime becomes familiar to their minds; they invent 
 some plausible apology for its repeated commission, 
 and endeavor to close their eyes to any serious conse- 
 quences. It is painful to dwell upon the frightful 
 denouement, and hence its contemplation is avoided. 
 The power of temptation increases with every false 
 step, until at last, desperation is the controlling spirit, 
 and the victim rushes on, reckless of consequences. 
 "When however, the delusion vanishes, and the in- 
 fatuation is stripped of its delirious excitement — when 
 the veil is withdrawn, and the awful penalty of dis- 
 
TEMPTATION. 85 
 
 grace looms up vividly in the distance, the despair 
 and the agony, the remorse and the madness, are 
 terrible. 
 
 " Lead us not into temptation" is the language of 
 Holy Writ; and it cannot be repeated too frequently, 
 or remembered too constantly. Ambition has its 
 temptations — pkide has its temptations — and so also, 
 beauty, and power, and fashion, and jealousy, 
 and envy. All allure, dazzle, and betray. And 
 when, too, false pride, or the fear of the mocking scorn 
 of the world, induces the sensitive to hesitate between 
 the right path and the wrong — to pause between 
 honesty and dishonesty, rather than brave the cold 
 and heartless looks of former friends and companions 
 ■ — the peril is a fearful one ; and if the wrong path be 
 chosen, 'the consequences in the multitude of cases are 
 disgrace, wretchedness, and ruin. Better, in every 
 emergency, to exercise true moral courage, and face 
 all difficulties, real or imaginary, by a truthful, 
 manly, honest, and upright course. Be not induced 
 to resort to another, even for a moment; for when 
 once involved in the tangled meshes of the deceitful 
 syren of temptation, it will be found almost impossible 
 to retrace the false step, or to effect an honorable 
 escape. 
 5 
 
(Swig COTrang.-~Sog|offb aito Pro|ffot>. 
 
 " "Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, 
 To teach the young idea how to shoot, 
 To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
 To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast !"— Thomson. 
 
 IN the course of an address some time since de- 
 livered at Girard College, by Mr. Job E. Tyson, 
 lie alluded to the subject of early training, and his 
 remarks were characterized by much force and pro- 
 priety. We will not attempt to give the exact words, 
 but the general tenor of his argument was somewhat 
 to this effect : — 
 
 " To make good citizens we must begin with the child. 
 It is the young idea that must be taught how to shoot. 
 We must watch it in the tender germ of infancy, re- 
 move the weeds which would choke or poison it, and 
 so water and invigorate it, as it rises to catch the air 
 and the sun, that, like a healthy and useful plant, it 
 may bring forth fruit as well as leaves and flowers. 
 It has been asserted that the mind and opinions of a 
 nation can be permanently formed by the ballad- 
 monger. The apothegm is false, unless the ballads 
 are taught before the gristle of infancy is hardened 
 into the bone of manhood. What impressions are 
 permanent except the lessons of childhood ? The sen- 
 timents then imbibed, insensibly but certainly mould 
 the heart and form the character. To know the 
 nursery-maid of the child, and the teacher and school 
 (36) 
 
EARLY TRAINING. 67 
 
 books of the boy, is to know the opinions and aspira- 
 tions of the man. We may attempt to rub out these 
 impressions by the attritions of counteracting and even 
 hostile influences, but they cannot be obliterated. 
 They survive the rude shocks of the world. Though 
 they may sink into temporary forgetfulness, they re- 
 appear, as faithful mirrors, to reflect ineffaceable 
 images of the early past. The tree could as soon be 
 divested of the nature of the stalk, which was grafted 
 into the trunk of the delicate sapling, as manhood 
 throw off the lessons and maxims of susceptible child- 
 hood. 
 
 Where is the chief spring of vice and crime in a 
 populous city? Setting aside anomalous cases of 
 what are called natural depravity — where are we to 
 look for the origin of evil, but in neglected youth ? 
 A fatherless child, whose mother is poor, is either idle 
 at home, or engaged in employments where he is an 
 apt learner of the vices of the society to which he is 
 condemned. He grows, up in the example of a cor- 
 rupt and a corrupting class. He can have no higher 
 standard of moral rectitude than the conduct around 
 him inspires. Exposed to every influence which can 
 enfeeble or contaminate virtue, with an imperfect 
 sense of right, a will unchecked, passions unrestrained 
 and unregulated, with no ideas of religion and the 
 Deity but the most vague and shadowy, how can he 
 be a good man ? Ignorant of all that it is discredit 
 able not to know, and irregularly engaged at intervals, 
 perhaps, at many occupations, without an adequate 
 knowledge of any — how can he be a good citizen? 
 A boy thus permitted to grow up, is ready for the 
 uoroetration of any mischief that will give excitement 
 
88 EARLY TRAINING. 
 
 to his spirits, or mark him in the estimation of his 
 comrades. Without a regular calling he cannot earn 
 a subsistence ; without the habit of industry he is too 
 idle to work. He falls from one sink of infamy to 
 another, until he ends his useless and pernicious career 
 in the loathsome degradation of the almshouse or the 
 penitentiary." All this is true, and forcible as true. 
 
 "We cordially endorse every syllable it embodies. 
 The influence and importance of early training — 
 early impressions can scarcely be exaggerated. 
 Children are imitative beings, and their minds and 
 hearts catch up, imbibe, and reflect the morals, the 
 maimers, the tastes and habits of the society in which 
 they " live and move." The vices will thus be imi- 
 tated and perpetuated as well as the virtues. And 
 this may readily be discovered on examining closely 
 into the social history of any large family. The petu- 
 lant father will too often, by example, make a petulant 
 son ; and the flippant and idle mother serve as tHe 
 model for the heartless and indifferent daughter. 
 Precept is much, but example is more. It too often 
 happens that parents declaim for hours against the 
 very failings and infirmities which they themselves are 
 constantly exhibiting. We cannot see in ourselves 
 what we readily dectect in others. Many of us are 
 blind to our own faults, while we have Argus eyes for 
 those of our neighbors. 
 
 The education of the young, the proper education, 
 not only mental and physical, but moral and social, 
 may be classed among the highest and most responsi- 
 ble of human duties. Parents and guardians have not 
 only the charge of minds, but of souls ; they not only 
 influence the present, but future generations. It is 
 
EARLY TRAINING. 89 
 
 therefore that early habits of idleness, of disrespect, of 
 insolence, and of moral recklessness, should be guarded 
 against with the most vigilant caution. The moral 
 and mental training, once fairly and properly com- 
 menced, and the task will be comparatively easy 
 thereafter. But if insolence or disobedience be taught 
 or tolerated in childhood, the result in a majority of 
 cases will be truly deplorable. How few sufficiently 
 appreciate and watch their own example ! How few 
 who are looked up to as the heads of the household, 
 remember that eager eyes are upon them, that young 
 natures are being moulded and characterized, accord- 
 ing to their looks, and words, and deeds ! How often 
 is juvenile audacity mistaken for precocious intellect, 
 and insolence and insult from the young and thought- 
 less applauded as readiness, wit, and genius ! 
 
 The selfishness and the vanity of poor human na- 
 ture are apt in these cases to make a fearful, a fatal 
 mistake. The boy who is thus trained and en- 
 couraged, will soon assume the boldness of a rebel, 
 and mock at and defy the parental authority that 
 in his earlier years applauded his forwardness, and 
 thus encouraged a spirit of disobedience. On the 
 other hand, a judicious course, one calculated to en- 
 courage timidity and rebuke insolence ; one suited to 
 develope the mind and its energies, to mould, soften, 
 and elevate the heart, to strengthen, beautify and 
 adorn the character, is sure to produce good fruit. 
 Early impressions, we repeat, are ever the most last- 
 ing. They live and linger in the mind and memory 
 till the latest period of human existence. How im- 
 portant, then, that they should be of the right kind ; 
 that parents, guardians, teachers, should understand 
 and appreciate their duties and responsibilities. 
 
msiljitg. 
 
 'The heart is like a lonely bird 
 
 That sadly sings, 
 Brooding upon its nest unheard. 
 With folded wings." 
 
 Where glow exalted sense and taste refined, 
 There keener anguish rankles in the mind ; 
 There feeling is diffused through every part, 
 Thrills in each nerve, and lives in all the heart ; 
 And those whose generous souls each tear would keep 
 From other's eyes are born themselves to weep." 
 
 IT is the misfortune of many to be over sensitive, 
 to be affected deeply and keenly by comparative 
 trifles, and thus to be in a constant state of disquiet, 
 anxiety and uneasiness. On the other hand, it may be 
 regarded as a cruelty and a crime in individuals who 
 cannot feel themselves — who are dull, cold and indif- 
 ferent — to sport or trifle with the sensibility of others. 
 Happiness has been destroyed, and even life has been 
 shortened by this harshness. The victims of acute 
 sensibility may be numbered by thousands. Mgny waste 
 away in quiet and in sorrow, unwilling that tne world 
 should see their trials or know of their grievances. 
 Others assume a confidence which they do not feel 
 and thus perish, as it were, with a smile upon their lips. 
 Others again, maddened by thought, resort to suicide, 
 and thus, in a paroxysm of despair, cut short the deli- 
 cate and fragile thread of human existence. Who 
 cannot single out from his circle of friends and as- 
 sociates, some pale, thin, and shadowy victim of sensi- 
 (90) 
 
SENSIBILITY. 91 
 
 bility, some creature of feeling and emotion, whose 
 hopes have been blighted and prospects overshadowed, 
 and to whom the world presents little that is bright, 
 buoyant and cheerful. "Who does not remember cases 
 in which the heart's best affections have been wasted 
 upon worthless objects, truth and fidelity been repaid 
 y falsehood and inconstancy, and the bright dream 
 of youth and hope made a delusion and a mockery ! 
 
 Only a day or two since we passed in the street a 
 wasted and care-worn figure, in which we were merely 
 able to recognize a beauty and a belle of ten years be- 
 fore. She had in an evil hour been sought and won 
 by a dashing young man of irregular habits. Against 
 the wishes of her parents she became his wife, and 
 added to the romance and excitement of the moment 
 by a runaway match. She knew that he was intem- 
 perate, but he promised to reform — promised so 
 solemnly, and with so many protestations, that in her 
 innocence and infatuation she believed him, and con- 
 fided her destiny to his hands. In a few years, he was 
 a bankrupt in character and means, and his household 
 is now the abode of want, shame, and misery, rather 
 than of comfort, honor and happiness. Nevertheless, 
 that first wild dream lingered with, and occasionally 
 brightened her susceptible nature, and she never 
 wholly lost the hope that the day would come, when 
 the chosen of her heart would abandon his evil ways 
 and vicious companions. Ten years have gone by, 
 and he is still a drunkard. His condition is most de- 
 graded. The handsome youth is now disfigured, 
 bloated, and an object of pity and disgust. Dependent 
 upon the bounty of a few relatives, he still drags on 
 a miserable existence, and his wife, the belle of the gay 
 
92 SENSIBILITY. 
 
 and brilliant circle, how fearful too, has been the 
 change in her ! Eyes that were once bright and beau- 
 tiful, are now dim and sunken. Cheeks that were 
 once round and ruddy are now pale and hollow ; a form 
 that was once fairy-like and graceful, seems, and is 
 indeed but a shadow and a wreck. And even now, a 
 kind word, a generous expression, a penitent acknowl- 
 edgment — and that faithful wife is willing to forget 
 and forgive ; and to believe that there are yet bright 
 days in store for her. And mav Heaven in its infinite 
 mercy speedily realize the hope ! 
 
 But sensibility is not confined to the gentler sex, 
 and to mere matters of affection. Years ago, and we 
 knew as. gifted and as pure a spirit as ever was en- 
 shrined in a human form, broken down by the treach- 
 ery of a friend. The two had been schoolboys to- 
 gether. They had grown up to manhood, preserving 
 the confidence and good feeling that had commenced 
 so early, and sharing each other's every thought. 
 Some business engagement at last betrayed a new trait 
 in the character of each, and the one sacrificed his 
 friend for a pecuniary consideration, while that friend 
 was so overwhelmed with the treachery and the false- 
 hood, that he sickened and sank beneath the blow. He 
 did not believe before that such perfidy existed in man. 
 His hopes and his happiness were so fully bound up in 
 the fidelity and truth of his friend, that life itself gave 
 way when the delusion vanished and the error was 
 discovered. The harsh and the heartless should be 
 admonished by these cases. The multitude, perhaps, 
 take the world as they find it, to use an ordinary 
 phrase, and are indifferent either to praise or censure, 
 except under very peculiar circumstances. But there 
 
THE MOTHER AND HER SONS. 93 
 
 are others again, who seem to live only a reflective 
 life, the sunshine of whose mortal existence is gathered 
 from the smile of another, the source of whose earthly 
 happiness may be found in the kindness and love, of 
 parent or husband, brother or friend. Such, therefore, 
 must be dealt with, as the musician deals with the finely 
 strung instrument. Gentle and skilful touches will 
 produce exquisite music, while rude and unpolished, 
 will jar with painful discord upon every gentler feeing 
 and sensibility. 
 
 % Ufatjpr 8Kb \tx Suns. %n inribrai 
 ra |leal fife. 
 
 " Think gently of the erring ! 
 
 Ye know not of the power 
 With which the dark temptation came, 
 
 In some unguarded hour. 
 Ye may not know how earnestly 
 
 They struggled, or how well, 
 Until the hour of darkness came 
 
 And sadly thus they fell." 
 
 IT AFFOKDS us no little pleasure to notice instances 
 in which the erring have been won by kindness 
 and benevolence, from the paths of impropriety and sin. 
 Such examples are not only cheering in the particular 
 cases, but they are well calculated to stimulate and 
 encourage philanthropy — to induce others to make 
 like efforts for the rescue and reform of the misguided 
 —and thus to assist in the restoration of the unfortu- 
 
9<± THE MOTHER AND HER SONS. 
 
 nate and the wretched, who otherwise would be utterly 
 abandoned and hopelessly lost. How few of us, when 
 passing judgment even upon the vicious, turn for a 
 moment to the contemplation of their early lives, the 
 evils and temptations by which they were surrounded 
 or ask what in all probability would have been our 
 own conduct and fate under like circumstances ? How 
 few make the necessary allowances for bad example, 
 ignorance and poverty ! We hear that an individual 
 has been arrested for theft, for fraud, for misdemeanor, 
 or some similar violation of law, and our prejudices are 
 at once excited, and the feeling of mercy is scarcely 
 experienced for a moment. And yet the miserable 
 offender may be, to a certain extent, the victim of cir- 
 cumstances — an evil-doer, not from natural inclination 
 to vice, but through bad associations, intemperate 
 parents, vicious guardians and guides. At all events, 
 when the offence is found to be a first one, and when 
 youth and hope are still on the side of the erring, 
 a chance, an opportunity should be afforded, kind 
 words should be uttered, encouragement for better 
 things should be mingled with gentle admonition; 
 and thus, in many cases, heart-cheering results 
 would ensue. We may give an illustration from 
 real life. 
 
 Not many years ago, an aged female, miserably 
 clad, presented herself at the house of a professional 
 gentleman, one of the most distinguished of our citi- 
 zens. She had with her a basket of tapes, thread, and 
 other trifles of the kind. She asked for the gentle- 
 man of the house ; and on being told that he was 
 absent, inquired for the lady. The latter, on making 
 her appearance, was touched by the miserable aspect 
 
THE MOTHER AND HER SONS. 95 
 
 of the poor woman ; and promptly purchased a few 
 of the articles in her basket. The stranger then begged 
 attention for a moment to a tale of sorrow. She said 
 she had not tasted food since the morning of the pre- 
 ceding day; and worse, she had a helpless son at 
 home, who had been without sustenance of any kind 
 still longer. But she had come, not so much to ask 
 for bread, as to implore mercy. She had another, an 
 erring, but beloved son in prison, and she desired the 
 husband of the lady to exert himself to procure his 
 discharge. She was told that the gentleman would be 
 at home at a particular hour, when, if so disposed, she 
 might call and feel certain of seeing him. She bowed 
 her thanks, promised to return, and did so accordingly 
 at the time designated. 
 
 " Well, my good woman," said the gentleman, " I 
 have heard of your former visit. What do you want 
 me to do for you?" 
 
 " Oh ! sir, I came to supplicate mercy for my son, 
 who is in prison." 
 
 "What is his name?" 
 
 "D ." 
 
 He shook his head, and said that the young man 
 was in for a very grave charge, and named the 
 offence. 
 
 " Oh sir, he is not the one. You have confounded 
 him with another — another son ;" and her voice 
 trembled with the admission. 
 
 " What ! — have you two so sadly circumstanced ?" 
 
 She burst into tears, and exclaimed: "I have — 
 alas ! I have." 
 
 " And which do you wish discharged ?" 
 
 " It is a hard thing for a mother to select between 
 
96 THE MOTHEK AND HEE SONS. 
 
 two children. But Charles, sir, is far less guilty than 
 his brother. He has of late years been my only stay ; 
 and not mine alone, but that of his wretched and in- 
 valid brother, whom the ravages of disease have 
 rendered little better than an idiot. Charles has sus- 
 tained us both ; and I firmly believe that his strong 
 desire to procure sustenance for an aged mother and a 
 feeble brother, induced him to commit the theft for 
 which he is now in prison." 
 
 "You seem," remarked the gentleman, "not always 
 to have been in the situation of life in which you are 
 now placed." 
 
 The Mother. — I once was prosperous, once was 
 happy. But for many years I have drained the cup 
 of sorrow to its very dregs. I received a tolerable 
 education, and possessed a small property. In an evil 
 hour I married the object of my affections. I say an 
 evil hour, for alas ! my husband soon became dissipated, 
 squandered the means that I brought him, and 
 left me to struggle with poverty as best I could, 
 while he pursued his dissolute and vicious courses. 
 His example has been the ruin of his children. Edward 
 followed the footsteps of his profligate father, rather 
 than the counsels of his unfortunate mother, and 
 strayed far, far from the path of rectitude and honor 
 Charles was of gentle, amiable disposition, but pos- 
 sessed less intellect than his bold and desperate 
 brother; while Nicholas has been rendered by dis- 
 ease an helpless object of pity, and incapable of taking 
 care of himself. Such, good sir, is the sad story of my 
 family. Such is a brief picture of my position and 
 misfortunes. And therefore it is, that I implore your 
 clemency and assistance in behalf of my misguided 
 
THE MOTHER AND HER SONS. 97 
 
 child. I believe that he is not naturally vicious, know 
 that he has always treated his mother with affection 
 and for years has generously shared his scanty pittance 
 with her. I do not mean, sir, to attempt any justifi- 
 cation of his conduct, in the matter for which he has 
 been arrested. But it surely admits of some pallia- 
 tion, when all the facts are taken into view. I hope, 
 sir, that you, animated by some consideration for the 
 misguided and the needy, will regard him rather as 
 an object of commiseration than of punishment. The 
 article he took was of small value, and it was the first 
 time that he ever appropriated to his own use what 
 belonged to another. I am old, penniless, and wretched. 
 I have no other dependence than this, my unfortunate 
 child. If he should not be discharged from imprison- 
 ment, I have no alternative but the alms house. 
 Surely, sir, public justice has already been satisfied 
 by the punishment that Charles has endured, and you 
 may interfere in his behalf, and with propriety. Once 
 released, and he may reform ; and oh ! my dear sir, it 
 is that hope alone which renders life an object worth 
 possessing. Could I but see my child restored, could 
 I feel convinced that his feet were once more in the 
 path of rectitude and of virtue, I would thank God for 
 his goodness, and look forward to death and the grave 
 with resignation." 
 
 Some further conversation took place, and the gen- 
 tleman, touched and melted by the appeal of the 
 mother, promised to make due inquiry into all the 
 circumstances of the case ; and if he should find them 
 to correspond with her statement, to exercise all his 
 influence on behalf of her son. The result was favor- 
 able. The story of the poor woman was fully veri- 
 
98 THE MOTHER AND HER SONS. 
 
 fied — Charles was discharged, and was restored to the 
 arms, the heart, and the home of the parent who had 
 clung to him with so much tenacity. The meeting 
 was most affecting. The mother wept with excess of 
 joy ; while tears also streamed profusely down the 
 cheeks of her son. 
 
 Some time after, Mr. Thompson, the gentleman to 
 whom we have referred so repeatedly in the course of 
 this brief sketch, again met the mother in the street 
 She was decently and comfortably clad, her counte- 
 nance was cheerful, and a weight of sorrow had evi 
 dently been taken from her heart and brow. She 
 manifested the liveliest satisfaction at this meeting, 
 was eloquent in her thanks, and in commendation of 
 the conduct of her son. 
 
 " Charles, since his restoration, had been steady, in- 
 dustrious and temperate. He was, she hoped and be- 
 lieved, fully reformed. He was not only able by rigid 
 frugality, to support himself and mother, but to 
 minister to the necessities and comforts of his afflicted 
 brother." And here she again broke forth in thanks. 
 " Mr. Thompson had not only saved her boy from a 
 life of infamy and wretchedness, but he had bright- 
 ened, as with a beam from Heaven, a house that was 
 dark and desolate." 
 
 A tear trembled in the eye of Mr. Thompson, and 
 shaking the hand of the grateful mother, he mentally 
 thanked God for the happy result. 
 
 " Speak kindly to the erring ! 
 
 Thou yei may lead them hack, 
 With holy words and tones of love, 
 
 From misery's thorny track f 
 Forget not thou hast often sinned, 
 
 And sinful yet must he- 
 Deal gently with the erring one 
 
 As God has dealt with thee I" 
 
% little ka fatter, % far of 
 
 "All paused and lingered, but the hour passed by, 
 And yet he came not." 
 
 ACOEEESPONDENT informs us that he holds a 
 public situation in connection with several other 
 gentlemen, and that not a week goes by in which he is 
 not compelled to lose several hours of valuable time, 
 in consequence of the unnecessary delay of his col- 
 leagues. Some of them are invariably too late ; and 
 their reasons therefor are, generally speaking, of the 
 most trifling character. We fear that our corres- 
 pondent is not alone in this matter. The error of 
 negligence and procrastination is one that prevails to 
 a sad extent indeed. We have alluded to it again and 
 again, but it may be feared without producing much 
 good. Nevertheless, it is only by repeated intimations 
 and admonitions that evils of this character can be re- 
 formed. There are moods of the mind, when a word 
 of enlightened counsel will not only be listened to 
 with respect, but will produce the desired result. Any 
 one who is in the habit of attending a steamboat land- 
 ing, will have abundant opportunities of noticing in- 
 dividuals who arrive just as the boat is about to push 
 off, or very frequently after she has gone, and thus a 
 little TOO LATE ! But the system of postponement and 
 delay prevails to some extent in almost every condition 
 6 (99) 
 
100 A LITTLE TOO LATE. 
 
 of life. At this moment there are hundreds of in- 
 dividuals who, with large estates at their disposal, feel 
 that it is altogether essential for the satisfactory dis- 
 tribution of their property, that they should make a 
 "Will. And they intend to. do so. They have thought 
 over the matter, and arranged certain bequests in 
 their minds. Old friends will be remembered, 
 cherished relatives will be provided for, and meri- 
 torious Charities will not be forgotten. At least they 
 so believe. Nevertheless the chances are, ten to one, 
 that they will postpone the solemn duty from day to 
 day and year to year, until at last sickness will strike 
 them down and paralyze, and then they will discover, as 
 death approaches and the intellect wavers and becomes 
 enfeebled, that they have hesitated too long, that they 
 are not fitted for the responsible task- — in other words, 
 that it is too late. The consequences of such an error 
 are often deplorable. The law is appealed to, years 
 are occupied in litigation, while bitterness, feuds, un- 
 kindness and bad blood are the sad results. There are 
 few, however, who do not postpone and procrastinate 
 under certain circumstances. We have known in- 
 dividuals who, conscious that they had committed an 
 injustice, resolved to apologize and make all the 
 reparation in their power. They felt that such a 
 course was due, not not only to themselves, but to the 
 injured party. They were abashed and mortified at 
 their own conduct, and could not feel mentally satis- 
 fied or easy in conscience. Nevertheless, they hesi- 
 tated, excused to themselves the various postpone- 
 ments and delays, and finally, for want of moral 
 courage, neglected the matter entirely, and thus 
 permitted an injustice to accompany them to the 
 
A LITTLE TOO LATE. 101 
 
 grave. Some years since an individual of this city 
 received a highly favorable proposition from a gen 
 tleman of St. Louis, to enter into a promising business. 
 The opportunity was a rare one, and the only diffi- 
 culty that presented, was the necessity of a change of 
 residence. This caused hesitation, and a fortnight 
 was permitted to go by before a letter of reply was 
 forwarded, the excuse being that it would not do to 
 reply in a doubtful tone, until a decision, either of a 
 negative or an affirmative character, had been resolved 
 upon. It so happened, however, that a third party 
 residing in St. Louis, had the refusal, should not a 
 satisfactory reply be received within a reasonable 
 period. When at last, therefore, a letter of accept- 
 ance came, it was at least a week TOO late ! Years 
 elapsed thereafter, before another chance presented, 
 but fortunately, the error exercised a powerful influ- 
 ence upon the character of the delinquent, and he is 
 now one of the most regular and reliable business 
 men in the country. On another occasion, some years 
 since, a citizen of Philadelphia was tendered by the 
 then President of the United States, a truly responsible 
 office, one, however, that he had not applied for. The 
 offer was unexpected, and it somewhat confused and 
 startled. More than a week passed by without a 
 reply, either favorable or otherwise ; when, as in the 
 case above, an applicant who was on the ground, and 
 who was earnest and anxious, made another desperate 
 effort and received the appointment. Twenty-four 
 hours thereafter, a reply came from the Philadelphian, 
 but the writer had hesitated too long. It was too 
 late. And so with every day affairs of life. Only 
 yesterday a gentleman stepped into our office, who 
 
102 A LITTLE TOO LATE. 
 
 had made an engagement of some importance with 
 another, and the two had fixed the hour at ten o'clock 
 precisely. Fifteen minutes elapsed, and one of the 
 parties was still absent. The other'took out his watch, 
 said that he had another engagement, and of course 
 took his departure. Five minutes thereafter, the 
 delinquent hurried in, somewhat excited, especially as 
 his own business was the subject of consideration, but 
 he was TOO late I We subsequently made some in- 
 quiries, and found that he was no less than three 
 hours in hunting up the individual whom he had 
 missed in the morning, and simply by an idle delay 
 of twenty minutes. And what, gentle reader, is your 
 habit in this respect ? Are you prompt and punctual ? 
 Is your word as good as your bond ? Do you keep 
 your engagements rigidly and faithfully? Or are 
 you also always eager, excited, irregular and unre- 
 liable, because from some weakness of character or error 
 of system, you are ever behind time, and thus a little 
 
 TOO LATE? 
 
atrimmtg; or, % ^atljek in a Dilemma. 
 
 'From that day forth in peace and joyous bliss, 
 They lived together long without debate ; 
 
 No private jars, nor spite of enemies, 
 Could shake the safe assurance of their state.' 
 
 ACOEEESPONDENT, who describes himself as 
 "An Old Bachelor," and who appears to be some- 
 what nervous upon the subject of matkimony, asks 
 for a few hints or suggestions in relation to court- 
 ship. He says that he desires to change his condition, 
 but that he has so long lived a life of single blessed- 
 ness, that he feels awkward and uncomfortable in the 
 society of ladies ; and is constantly aj >prehensive lest 
 he should commit some mistake. He has discovered, 
 moreover, that he has made one sad error, in having 
 postponed the most important act of his life till so 
 late a period — for he now perceives that the chances 
 are decidedly against him. In other words, he is 
 puzzled to distinguish the real from the artificial; and 
 is annoyed, lest in his efforts to obtain a wife at his 
 time of life, he shall secure the hand but not the 
 heart ; or that the marriage on the part of the lady 
 shall be one of convenience, and with the object of 
 obtaining an establishment, rather than one of feeling 
 or affection. Our correspondent is evidently in a 
 dilemma. His case, moreover, is by no means rare ; 
 it is one of many of a like character. He describes him- 
 self as in the neighborhood of fifty, and yet not more 
 
 (103) 
 
104 MATRIMONY. 
 
 than forty-five by appearance, or in comparison with 
 men generally of that age. Nevertheless he hopes or 
 expects to get a wife wIid "is twenty or there- 
 abouts" — we quote his own language. This seems to 
 us a very extravagant expectation, and one that is 
 neither sensible nor natural. Let the case be reversed, 
 and our bachelor will at once see his true position. He 
 desires a young lady of twenty to marry a man of 
 fifty, or one who is thirty years her senior! Now let 
 us suppose that he were twenty, and that a lady-love 
 of fifty should present herself. What would be his 
 indignation? True, there may be some disparity, 
 and in favor of the former, but it should not be beyond 
 ten years at the utmost. The laws of nature, as well 
 as of good' taste, revolt at a further difference, and 
 matches that exhibit a greater, are seldom harmonious 
 or happy. 
 
 No wonder that our correspondent finds it difficult 
 to get along with the gentler sex, with such views 
 and expectations to regulate his conduct. No wonder 
 that he occasionally sees younger society preferred 
 to his, although he may possess advantages of position 
 and wealth. There are mercenary parents who are 
 willing to sacrifice their children upon the altar of 
 Mammon, and who regard any match as a good one 
 that secures a flourishing establishment, no matter 
 what the relative ages of the parties ; but alas ! for the 
 victim wife. Alas! for tki young creature who is 
 bound for life to an old man, comparatively speaking, 
 or to one who must soon become old, and who, find- 
 ing no kindred sympathy or association in her liege- 
 lord and legal partner, is induced by the necessities 
 of the case to flutter in the fashionable world, to seek 
 
MATRIMONY. 105 
 
 new excitements for her thoughts and feelings, and 
 to be subjected to the most fearful temptations. Early 
 marriages are advisable in the great multitude of cases, 
 and especially where the husband is of settled character, 
 and actively and prosperously engaged in some regular 
 occupation. This regularity of occupation should be 
 the first object of every sensible young man, of all, 
 indeed, who desire to maintain an independent position. 
 Any other policy is fraught with a thousand vicissi- 
 tudes. Some formal profession or calling, some regular 
 avocation, by which" the time, the thoughts and the 
 energies may be actively and profitably employed, is 
 in a country like this, absolutely essential. It is 
 essential to good character, to correct habits, to social 
 position, and to worldly prosperity. And then — matri- 
 mony, as it seems to us, is the next important step. 
 It gives us a new life, a fresh existence in the partner 
 of our choice, and it also imparts a fresh incentive to 
 industry and ambition. It elevates us in our own 
 esteem, it makes us feel that we are responsible, not 
 only for our own destiny, but for that of another 
 being, who has confided all that is valuable upon 
 earth, to our care and keeping. It is, it is true, the 
 source of new anxieties ; but it is also the fountain of 
 many new blessings. How lonely, how desolate, how 
 petulant in most cases, is the old bachelor ! If poor, 
 he is toe often neglected and deserted — if rich he may 
 be envied, but there is no heart that will look up to 
 and love him — there are no eyes that will watch 
 patiently for his coming — there is no family circle of 
 which he is the soul and the centre — there are no 
 domestic associations in which he can participate and 
 feel happy. It is therefore, we contend, that our cor- 
 
106 MATRIMONY. 
 
 respondent has postponed a sacred duty too long. 
 But "better late than never." There are still chances, 
 many and tempting ; and although at his time of life, 
 he cannot expect to pick and choose among the fairy 
 creatures who are so calculated to dazzle and bewitch ; 
 he can, no doubt, readily discover a fitting partner, 
 one suited to his habits, tastes, and circumstances, by 
 resorting to the proper means. Our advice, then, is, 
 to postpone the consummation so devoutly wished, as 
 little longer as possible. He must moreover, not be 
 rebuffed by the first cold look or the first critical re- 
 mark. Courtesy, kindness and assiduity, will accom- 
 plish much in cases of this kind. He can readily dis- 
 cover a heart that is disengaged, and then h.e must deter- 
 mine to use every honorable effort to achieve its con- 
 quest. The business of courtship may at first seem 
 awkward, but he will soon get used to it ; and then 
 he will find that there is nothing more delightful. 
 Its very anxieties will constitute sources of pleasures ; 
 and when at last he discovers a sympathetic spirit, a 
 soul in harmony with his — when he becomes satisfied 
 that he has touched a tender chord, and that there is 
 another being in the world who is willing to mingle 
 her destiny with his, and who cherishes for him a 
 degree of esteem, respect and affection that she never 
 cherished for another — who, in brief, is willing to 
 dedicate her life to his happiness, he will, for the first 
 time, begin to realize the dream, that matrimony is 
 the only true condition of enlightened, social and 
 domestic existence on this side the grave. 
 
 " There's a bliss beyond all that tbe minstrel has told, 
 When two that are linked in one heavenly tie, 
 With heart never changing, and brow never cold, 
 Love- on through all ills, and love on till they die." 
 
iamMrag; or, % §np% ana % SUfpxyn. 
 
 A polished, snbtle knave, with mellow voice, 
 Bat heart as hard as iron." 
 
 GAMBLING- is not a vice of modern times. It has 
 been a theme of moralists for ages. A century 
 and a half ago, a distinguished writer classed the whole 
 tribe of gamesters under two divisions — dupes and 
 sharpers. The dupe is generally a person of some for- 
 tune and weak intellect. He plays, either because he 
 has become infatuated, or that the system is fashion- 
 able. Thus, if any game of chance be proposed, he 
 will no more refuse to make one at the table, than 
 among a set of hard drinkers, he would object to take 
 his glass in turn, because he is not dry. There is not 
 a more melancholy object than a gentleman of sense 
 thus infatuated. He makes himself and family a prey 
 to a gang of villains, more infamous than highway- 
 men, and, perhaps, when his ruin is completed, he is 
 glad to join the very scoundrels who destroyed him, 
 and live upon the spoil of others, whom he can draw 
 into the same folly that proved so fatal to himself. 
 
 The sharper, on the other hand, is a gamester who 
 makes a decent figure in the world, is endowed with 
 many amiable qualities, which would appear with 
 great lustre, were they not eclipsed by the odious char- 
 acter which is affixed to his trade. In order to carry 
 on the common business of his profession, he must be 
 a man of quick and lively parts, attended with a stoi- 
 
 (107) 
 
108 GAMBLING. 
 
 cal calmness of temper, and a constant presence of 
 mind. He must smile at the loss of thousands, and not 
 be discomposed, though ruin stare him in the face. 
 As he is compelled to mingle among the rich and the 
 educated, in order to secure victims, he must not want 
 politeness and affability, and must be master of an in- 
 genuous and liberal air, and have a seeming openness 
 of behavior. These, be it remembered, are portraits 
 sketched one hundred and fifty years ago. Time has 
 rolled on ever since, with a noiseless, but unceasing 
 movement, and jet gamblers and gambling are the 
 same. The dupes and the sharpers may be found in 
 every leading city of the New World, as well as the 
 Old. The vice is the most exciting, seductive and 
 tempting, to which human nature can be subjected. It 
 wins, dazzles, and betrays. And when, too, its agents 
 and ministers, as is generally the case, are polished, 
 plausible, and agreeable, the credulous and the yield- 
 ing, especially if idle and with abundant means, are 
 readily led astray.* In Philadelphia, we are told that 
 there are dozens of gambling establishments. Some 
 of them abound with a thousand fascinations. They 
 are fitted up with elegance, nay, with splendor — some 
 are located in the leading thoroughfares, and most of 
 them are conducted with an air of such gentility, that 
 the idea of vice or villainy seems altogether out of the 
 question with the young, the eager, the unpracticed, 
 and the uninitiated. Nevertheless, a more certain road 
 to ruin could not be pointed out. The result is inevi- 
 table. Alas! for the infatuated wretches who give 
 themselves up to this mocking delusion. The more 
 they indulge, the more certain will be their fate. The 
 fascination becomes an infatuation, and it at once un- 
 
GAMBLING. 103' 
 
 mans, masters, and controls them. The system through- 
 out is one of deceit, hypocrisy, and fraud. The game- 
 ster by profession soon becomes heartless, and his only 
 object is to win. He cares not whether by fair means 
 or foul. Any advice, any trick, any fraud will be re- 
 sorted to, if it can be concealed, and detection thus be 
 avoided. Nay, the art, to a certain extent, implies 
 subtle fraud, which is only regarded as superior skill. 
 If the means employed in gambling be cards, they can 
 be marked or arranged for the purpose, and thus, while 
 the credulous victim deludes himself with the belief 
 that the chances must surely turn in his favor, he is 
 only regarded as a miserable dupe, is plied with wine, 
 is stimulated with challenges, and thus, his ruin is 
 only made the more certain. It is probable that some 
 of those at the head of the leading and most successful 
 gambling " hells" of the United States, could name 
 dozens of young men, who have rushed on step by 
 step, until robbed of their all — poverty, and want, and 
 shame, and desperation, and despair, characterize and 
 close the last hours of their existence. Nay, at this 
 moment, they may be able to see among their visitors, 
 individuals who are just beginning to feel the powers 
 of the temptation, who do not imagine the extent to 
 which it may influence and madden them, and who are 
 nevertheless cultivated with care, won on gradually, 
 and thus fitted for the ruin that has overtaken so many 
 others. We occasionally hear of honorable gamblers, 
 of men who would not take an undue advantage ; but 
 we confess that we have our doubts. The system is 
 one of iniquity, and the heart must be callous indeed, 
 that can look on calmly, and participate in a contest, 
 that may not only beggar the unguarded, the unsus- 
 
110 GAMBLING. 
 
 pecting, and the rash, but which may carry anxiety 
 and anguish into the family circle, and lead in some 
 cases, to desperation, despair, and suicide. The vice, 
 moreover, is secret to some extent, and thus the vic- 
 tim is often ruined, before his friends and relatives are 
 able to discover that the monomania has seized upon 
 him. Nay, he is prompted, after his first losses, to re- 
 new his efforts and double his stakes, in the hope — 
 vain, mad, and delusive — to recover. Bmt, alas ! he is 
 on the downward path, and the chances are as a thou- 
 sand to one, that the sharpers into whose society he 
 has ventured, and to whose wiles he is subjected, will 
 never release their grasp until his fortune is utterly 
 exhausted. Such, then, is gambling, and such its re- 
 sults in a great majority of cases. It is stated that many 
 years ago, an old print was exhibited at Oxford, in 
 which a Count Gruiscard was represented at first sight 
 as wearing a hat and feather, embroidered clothes, dia- 
 mond buttons, and the full court-dress of those days. 
 By pulling a string, however, the folds of the paper 
 were shifted, and the face only remained, a new body 
 came forward, and the brilliant count appeared only 
 to be a devil. How many polished knaves, similarly 
 arrayed, may be found as the master spirits of the 
 gambling " hells" of this and other cities. 
 
%\i $tttjj, sift ijrar (©prtoratits. 
 
 " Though rich myself v I am the poor man's friend." 
 
 IN the course of a conversation a day or two ago, 
 with an active and enterprising merchant of this 
 city, we expressed satisfaction that he was still able to 
 find a leisure hour to devote to works of benevolence 
 and philanthropy, to measures calculated to promote 
 the greatest good of the greatest number. "We were 
 struck with his reply. He said that " he rejoiced that 
 his position was such as to enable him to mingle some- 
 what in causes which he believed had a tendency to 
 promote the welfare of the oppressed, the needy, and 
 the suffering among*the family of man ; for," he con- 
 tinued, " I am not one of those who believe it right, 
 politic, or conducive to happiness, to live for self exclu- 
 sively, or for this world alone." "Would that this 
 noble sentiment were more generally cherished and 
 acted upon. Would that the great body of the pros- 
 perous and the affluent in pecuniary matters, would 
 turn aside occasionally from the pursuit of Mammon, 
 to mingle with the benevolent and the kind-hearted 
 in their efforts to assist the suffering, to soothe the sor- 
 rowful, and to promote the comforts, mental, moral, 
 and physical, of the unfortunate, the misguided, and 
 the erring classes of society. How high and holy are 
 the consolations to be derived from such conduct, and 
 how superior, when compared with the more merce- 
 nary enjoyments of money-making! It is right and 
 
 (in) 
 
112 THE RICH, AND THEIR OPPORTUNITIES. 
 
 proper that our citizens should pay due attention to 
 their particular pursuits and avocations — should avail 
 themselves of all honest means of accumulating wealth 
 — should provide abundantly for themselves and their 
 families. But this is not the whole object of being. Other 
 responsibilities are imposed upon us, and we have 
 other duties to perform. Exactly in the degree that 
 we prosper in worldly matters, should our benevolent 
 disposition expand, and should we increase the amount 
 of our alms-giving. Life, at best, is but a brief span. 
 And yet to contemplate the hundreds and thousands 
 who in all human probability are nearer the grave in 
 point of years, than, looking back, they are to their 
 advent, upon this busy scene, one would suppose that 
 they anticipated immortality on earth — that they 
 were accumulating, with the expectation of surviving 
 for ages, and that the chief end of man was gold — ■ 
 gold ! There are, in society, hundreds who have in- 
 comes of thousands per annum, and yet who are so 
 careless and indifferent to the responsibilities which 
 such wealth entails, that they seldom give more than 
 a mere trifle to relieve the wants of the poor, or to aid 
 in any work of humanity, however meritorious and 
 praiseworthy. Nay, not a week goes by, that the 
 public journals do not chronicle the decease of some 
 individual who, after a long life of economy, industry 
 and accumulation, was compelled to leave this world 
 and an immense fortune behind him, and who, never- 
 theless, at the hour of death, was unable to turn to any 
 abode of wretchedness and want that he had brighi- 
 ened by his bounty, or to call up any act of generous 
 charity which had characterized his career. His heart 
 had been hardened against the appeals of the poor, 
 
THE RICH, AND THEIR OPPORTUNITIES. 113 
 
 self had been his god, and clutching his gold with the 
 grasp of tenacity, he had seen want and woe in many 
 a sad form, misery and suffering in many a varied 
 shape, but had been deaf and cold to the pleadings of 
 the gentle monitors within. Oh! could he go back 
 again ! Could he live over again a life that had been 
 so misspent — could he embrace the opportunities that 
 he had permitted to pass by neglected and unimproved 
 — how eagerly would he act under the nobler and 
 more generous impulses that he had disregarded! 
 How many a widow's heart would he make to leap 
 for joy ; how many an orphan's tear would he dry ; 
 how many an aged pair would he comfort! And 
 then the recollection of such conduct at his dying 
 hour — the hopes that it would inspire as to the future 
 — the calm with which he would soar into the myste- 
 rious depths of another world — who, who that has the 
 means — that has enough and to spare — that has been 
 blessed by Providence with an abundance of this 
 world's gifts — unless mad, blind, and sold, body and 
 soul, to gold — would neglect the opportunity of acting 
 with generous benevolence while here, and of thus 
 brightening, not only the present, but gilding with the 
 rosy light of hope and of heaven, the rising morning 
 • of the future. The merchant was right. It is neither 
 wise nor virtuous to live for self exclusively, and this 
 world is, after all, but a preparation for another. 
 Wealth is well enough in its way, and may be made 
 the means, not only of contributing to the happiness 
 of its possessor, but of relieving the woes and wants 
 of the unfortunate and the suffering. When so used 
 ■ — when the prosperity of this world not only makes us 
 grateful to the Almighty, but induces us to act out 
 
114 OCCUPATION. 
 
 that gratitude in our intercourse with mankind, suc- 
 cess in trade, in traffic, and in pecuniary matters, is 
 indeed a blessing. But when the richer we become, 
 we also become more heartless, reckless, and careless 
 — when, forgetful of Providence, proud, hard-hearted, 
 grinding, and grasping, we make a god of money — 
 prosperity becomes a curse, and we prove ourselves 
 unworthy recipients of the favors that have been so 
 lavishly bestowed. 
 
 (Dmipaiifltt; or, % Wm of a Cnto or 
 ^rofessom 
 
 " Better than gold — he gave his son a trade." 
 
 IT is said that, according to an ancient usage in 
 Prussia, all the princes of the royal family must 
 leakn A teade. The Prince Frederick William, 
 who was recently married to the Princess Koyal of 
 England, is a compositor, having acquired a knowl- 
 edge of the art in a printing-office at Berlin. An 
 excellent idea, and one that might be endorsed 
 with advantage by thousands of indulgent parents, 
 who have indolent or spoiled sons. There is nothing 
 like A REGULAE occupation". It not only strengthens 
 the morals, but it improves the mind. The habit of 
 industry is, moreover, a constant source of pleasure. 
 It engages and engrosses the faculties, and scares 
 away despondency and despair. And yet, how many 
 parents permit their children to grow up, without any 
 
OCCUPATION. 115 
 
 positive means or mode of earning a living, and thus 
 securing an honest independence ! This error prevails 
 to a fearful extent in the United States. It may be 
 attributed to one of three causes. Over-indulgence, 
 want of reflection, or false pride. But the father who 
 looks on with indifference, and sees a son growing up 
 before his eyes an idler and a drone, not only fits him 
 for a life of misery, but for one of crime. Better be 
 any thing than nothing. No matter how humble the 
 occupation, if it be reputable it constitutes a protection 
 and a safeguard. It is impossible for every lad to 
 become a great man, either in the pulpit, in medicine, 
 or at the bar. The mistake with too many parents is, 
 in supposing that their children are remarkably gifted, 
 and that hence, any ordinary employment would be 
 beneath their talents. The effect is to induce them to 
 "become connected with a profession, for which they 
 are totally unfitted. Far better this, however, than no 
 employment at all. Everybody should learn some- 
 thing. If a youth cannot become an eminent lawyer, 
 he may distinguish himself in some useful art, and 
 thus contribute, not only to his own welfare, but to 
 the general advantage of society. A few days since, a 
 gentleman in a neighboring city died, and left a large 
 estate. He had three sons, to each of whom he be- 
 queathed fifty thousand dollars. Two are to take 
 possession of the principal within a twelvemonth, both 
 being in active business, having, before they attained 
 the years of manhood, acquired a regular occupation. 
 But the third, and the favorite, can only receive the 
 interest of his property during life, inasmuch as he 
 was over-indulged and spoiled when a boy, became an 
 idler, and addicted to habits of dissipation, and is, 
 7 
 
116 OCCUPATION". 
 
 therefore, unable to manage his own estate. How 
 often do we see similar results under the like circum- 
 stances ! Fond mothers are sometimes sadly culpable. 
 They persuade themselves that some one among their 
 offspring is too delicate for the ordinary purposes of 
 life, and thus, if a boy, they prevent him from ming- 
 ling and mixing with the world at large, and becoming 
 subjected to the anxieties and responsibilities of busi- 
 ness. This may do very well in mere childhood, and 
 when surviving parents are able to watch, guard and 
 protect. But, alas ! for the condition of a youth thus 
 educated, when left to his own resources. He finds it 
 impossible to struggle against the chances and changes 
 that constantly take place, and too often yields to in- 
 temperance and despair. There is, we repeat, nothing 
 like a regular occupation. It should be regarded as 
 one of the great essentials. If possible, let it be of a 
 character to suit the mind and the disposition. There 
 are some lads who, full of enthusiasm, activity and 
 energjr, are fitted for almost any undertaking. No 
 matter where they may be placed, they will wrestle, 
 struggle and attain position and character. But there 
 are others, again, who are timid by nature, who are 
 nervous, sensitive and shrinking, and who should be 
 trained and treated accordingly. We know of nothing 
 more refreshing or more instructive than to attend 
 one of the lectures of a leading Medical School of 
 Philadelphia, and glance inquiringly at the faces and 
 features of the students. These candidates for pro- 
 fessional honors are from all parts of the Union, some 
 being the sons of rich fathers, others the hopes of 
 widowed mothers ; and others again, orphans, but full 
 of ardor and ambition, and determined to win for 
 
CHARACTER. 117 
 
 themselves reputation and fortune. The scene is well 
 calculated to touch the heart and interest the mind. 
 "Who may imagine the future destinies, so far as this 
 world is concerned, of the hundreds who every year 
 repair to this city, for the purpose of qualifying them- 
 selves for one of the noblest and most responsible of 
 avocations, A physician, too, is always useful. If 
 he cannot succeed in his profession, he can readily 
 turn his hand to something else. But a trade of some 
 kind, a regular occupation, an acquired mode of ob- 
 taining the means of subsistence, and securing social 
 position and pecuniary independence, cannot be too 
 earnestly urged. The usage in Prussia, to which we 
 have called attention,, is, we repeat, an excellent one, 
 and every way worthy of imitation and emulation. 
 
 Character; m, feperieitte anb its fodjmgs, 
 
 Be firm— be true— be resolute. 
 
 THE changes of a single year are often extraordi- 
 nary. They influence to a certain extent, every 
 event of our future lives. This is especially the case 
 with beginners, with those who are about to enter for 
 the first time upon the arenas of commerce and trade, 
 and to build up not only fortune, but character. 
 The latter is far more important than the former. But 
 this, we are sorry to say, is not the universal sentiment. 
 Too many inculcate the doctrine — "Get money, hon- 
 estly if you can, but by all means get money/" A 
 
118 CHARACTER. 
 
 fearful error, and one that has made thousands of vio 
 tims. Success through the agency of dishonesty, is 
 rarely permanent. It is beset with temptations, and in 
 the end deceives and betrays even itself. Such is the 
 justice of Providence. The guilty rarely escape, even 
 in this world ; and although conscience may become 
 callous and seared, although an effort may be made to 
 resist " the still, small voice," there are few who have 
 not their hours of reflection, and who are not compelled 
 at times, to ponder and shudder over their misdoings. 
 Character, too, is like the down upon a peach. Once 
 defaced or ruffled, it can never be fully restored. By 
 character we mean not only integrity, truth and 
 fair-dealing generally, but a constant exhibition of the 
 kindly feelings, the generous impulses and the high- 
 minded sentiments which are so essential to the honor- 
 able and virtuous man. Let these be once secured, 
 and it will be difficult for any adversity, however se- 
 vere, to prove more than temporary. True, it occa- 
 sionally happens that merit and probity, patience and 
 perseverance, are permitted for a long period to exist 
 and manifest themselves without an adequate reward. 
 But sooner or later a recognition will take place. 
 There are ministering angels abroad, agents and mis- 
 sionaries — if we may so express the idea — who rarely 
 suffer a case of general merit, unsullied truth and un- 
 doubted fidelity, to sink into utter neglect, or to suffer 
 continued privation. But these agents are not always 
 at hand, and hence it is sometimes necessary to exer- 
 cise faith and hope, even for years. In the end how- 
 ever, if the good and the true be adhered to, all will 
 be well. This, at least, is the doctrine, that we should 
 believe and inculcate, for its effect must be salutary. 
 
CHARACTER. 119 
 
 On the opening of a new year, therefore, a cheerful 
 spirit should be indulged. If we have been unfortu- 
 nate, and at the same time deserving, let us cherish the 
 belief that we have suffered merely in the way of trial, 
 with the objects at once of proving us, of affording us 
 some experience of the vicissitudes of life, and in order 
 that when better fortunes attend us, we shall be able 
 properly to appreciate the blessing and control our- 
 selves. No one, however, should give way to foolish 
 fears and idle apprehensions. No one should yield to 
 despondency, and fancy that for him there is no rich 
 future. It seems to be one of the laws of Nature, that 
 human beings should struggle for themselves. They 
 should never give way to despair. To-day may be 
 dark and boisterous; the outdoor world may be char- 
 acterized by wind and storm, but to-morrow may be 
 bright, sunny, and full of cheering influences. So too 
 in the moral world. We know not what is best for us. 
 No man can read the future. Even adversities are 
 often blesmgs in disguise. They check, they restrain, 
 they admonish and they teach. Who, indeed, cannot 
 point to some fearful trial, some sore vexation, and 
 yet with thankfulness at its correcting, controlling and 
 salutary influence. While, therefore, we endeavor to 
 deserve the brightest and the best, let us not suppose 
 that momentary difficulties, or even a year's misfor- 
 tunes, are not without their uses. Experience is a 
 great matter, especially with the eager, the credulous, 
 the impatient and the over sanguine. It is necessary 
 sometimes, that these should be taught that the world 
 is full of trial and tribulation — that life has its clouds 
 as well as its sunshine, and that there is no such thing 
 as unalloyed happiness on this side of the grave. Thus 
 
120 ENVY, RIVALRY, AND FALSE PRIDE. 
 
 then, let us be admonished in a double sense. If we 
 have been unfortunate, let us regard the lesson in a 
 proper spirit, but push on boldly and cheerfully, al- 
 ways striving to merit a happy condition of affairs. 
 And if, on the other hand, we have been eminently 
 prosperous, and are basking in the sunshine of success, 
 let us not forget the fallibility of human nature, but be 
 grateful, and at the same time prudent and calm. And 
 in any event, let us endeavor to improve the opening 
 year so that at its close, we shall feel that we have not 
 lived idly, recklessly, improvidently or viciously — in 
 other words, that we have not lived in vain. 
 
 $1% ptafeg, axib Jak Jjrik 
 
 "Base envy withers at another's j 07." 
 
 THEEE are few persons, however blessed, who do 
 not at times imagine themselves particularly un- 
 fortunate, and envy the apparent contentment and 
 prosperity of their neighbors. They know every thing 
 in relation to themselves, the inner springs, the secret 
 troubles, the private griefs, and they see only the outer 
 surface, the apparent happiness of those around them, 
 and hence they become dissatisfied, discontented, and 
 envious. We are all too apt to misappreciate the bless- 
 ings we possess, and to covet the property and pros- 
 perity of our neighbors. If an individual be in the 
 enjoyment of high health, abundant employment, and 
 
ENVY, RIVALRY, AND FALSE PRIDE. 121 
 
 fair remuneration for his toil, he is sometimes disposed 
 to forget these advantages, and to imagine that others 
 with less merit or less industry, are advancing more 
 rapidly on the road to wealth, while he is utterly un- 
 mindful of thousands who are suffering by sickness, by 
 want, or by misfortune. The feeling of envy is a con- 
 stant source of anxiety and unhappiness. Nay, its 
 fruits are ever bitter. In the effort to attract attention 
 and provoke jealousy, how often do misguided indi- 
 viduals indulge beyond their means, and step by step 
 involve themselves in ruin. How many are at this 
 moment basking in the sunshine of fashion, mingling 
 with the gay, the giddy, and the frivolous, who can 
 neither afford the time nor the money. The error of 
 our modern system is extravagance. Palace-like edi- 
 fices and magnificent furniture are required, not by 
 the rich alone, by individuals who have incomes ex- 
 tending to thousands, but by citizens who are just 
 starting in life, who have a fair and promising busi- 
 ness for the present, but no security for the future. 
 They are tempted to this mad course by a spirit of 
 rivalry and the passion of envy. Some of their friends 
 and neighbors are able to live and shine in the manner 
 described, and they venture to imitate them, but at a 
 truly fearful risk. And when, too, the step has once 
 been taken, how difficult it is to retrace it ! Common 
 sense and better reason may dictate such a course, but 
 false pride advises another, and thus the evil day is 
 postponed, the work of retrenchment and reform is 
 procrastinated, until at last it is too late to attempt it 
 with effect. The hollow game is played out, until 
 bankruptcy and ruin are the sad consequences. There 
 are some individuals so constituted that they are 
 
122 ENVY, RIVALRY, AND FALSE PRIDE. 
 
 always unhappy, not because they are unfortunate or 
 in want, not that they are sick or suffering, but sim- 
 ply that they cannot look with cheerful eyes upon the 
 gay and animated world around them, and are con- 
 stantly sighing after forbidden fruit, or yearning for 
 the fancied enjoyments of others. The success of an 
 acquaintance, instead of being a source of pleasure, is 
 a cause of mortification and pain. Even the laugh of 
 a child grates harshly upon their ears. They have 
 become moody, morbid, and selfish, and hence derive 
 no satisfaction from the happiness of others. Such dis- 
 contented spirits are to be pitied as well as despised. 
 They are their own worst enemies. Their hearts are 
 filled with bitterness and envy, instead of generosity 
 and the milk of human kindness. They are apt, too, 
 to seek every opportunity to underrate, disparage, 
 and villify. The dark side of a story is with them 
 seized with avidity. They are always disposed to be- 
 lieve the worst, and to give the unkindest representa- 
 tion. To a certain extent, they are unconscious of the 
 influence which the habit or infirmity has acquired 
 over them. "Nay, they mistake for stern sincerity and 
 unwavering truth, a disposition to be harsh, unkind, 
 and morose. In what striking contrast is the gentle 
 and generous spirit, the being who delights in doing 
 good, who rejoices at the happiness of others, is ever 
 ready to assist the deserving, and to lend a helping 
 hand to all who are in distress. The doctrine we de- 
 sire to inculcate is, that if favored by Providence with 
 many blessings, we should manifest a sense of grati- 
 tude and of duty, by remembering and assisting the 
 less fortunate, rather than by imitating the folly or 
 coveting the means of those who have accumulated 
 
ENVY, RIVALRY, AND FALSE PRIDE. 123 
 
 large fortunes. We should remember, moreover, that 
 wealth does not always bring happiness — that health 
 is a blessing which is priceless in its character — and 
 that there is scarcely a family or a household in the 
 world that is not darkened by some sorrow, or pained 
 by some misfortune. At all events, let us strive to 
 deserve, and if we cannot assist our fellow-creatures — 
 let us at least avoid all unkindness, all calumny, all 
 envy that may seem calculated to annoy and pain 
 them. There are few indeed, who have the time and 
 the disposition to hunt out, magnify, and give publi- 
 city to the errors and infirmities of their neighbors, 
 who will not discover, sooner or later, that they them- 
 selves are imperfect, and require the exercise toward 
 them, of a liberal and indulgent judgment. There are 
 few again on the other hand, who, with all their facul- 
 ties in full play, and with the means of contentment 
 and comfort in their power, who would not hesitate to 
 exchange places with the hundreds of the needy, the 
 languishing, the unfortunate, and the suffering, to be 
 found in every thickly populated community. The 
 duty of every individual, however, is relative, and the 
 abundantly prosperous should act accordingly. He 
 is indeed false to his position and to his responsibility, 
 who, eminently favored by Providence in any sense, 
 does not manifest his sense of gratitude in a spirit at 
 once of generosity and humanity. 
 
" Lead us not into temptation." 
 
 IT is quite a common thing for honest-minded, frank- 
 hearted, but somewhat ambitious country farmers, 
 to send their young sons to the city to be educated, or 
 to acquire a knowledge of business, but without sub- 
 jecting them at the same time to the kindly and con- 
 stant guardianship of some intelligent relative or 
 friend. This is a sad mistake, and it often leads to the 
 most deplorable consequences. The temptations of 
 city life are many and various. They present them- 
 selves in a thousand forms, some of which are of the 
 most seductive character. The moral restraint neces- 
 sary to resist them must be of no ordinary kind, and 
 it can scarcely be looked for in the inexperienced and 
 the young. And when once the path of error is entered 
 upon, and an evil habit is resorted to, it is difficult in- 
 deed to retrace the footsteps. Perhaps the most pow- 
 erful temptation to the gentler sex is dress. It bewil- 
 ders, intoxicates, fascinates and often leads to ruin. 
 This is especially the case in this country, where 
 the mistress and maid vie with each other in adorning 
 their persons, where the classes are not distinctly 
 marked, and where respectability is often measured by 
 the apparel. Dress, indeed, forms the leading topic 
 in almost every female circle, and may be said to con- 
 stitute the passion of the sex. But with young men 
 there are many more temptations. In the first place 
 (124) ' 
 
PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 125 
 
 they are nearly all taught to live beyond their means. 
 They learn to smoke when they are mere boys, not a 
 few chew the narcotic weed, while drink in its vari- 
 ous forms, is deemed by a great majority as a matter 
 of course. The wonder is, not that a few fall under 
 these circumstances, but that so many escape the 
 shoals and quicksands of city life. The lessons of self 
 restraint cannot be inculcated too early. Moral and 
 religious precepts and principles should be constantly 
 instilled. But more than all, some regular habit or 
 industry, some visible mode of livelihood, should be 
 considered as essential. Idleness is the parent of many 
 vices, and it is especially so in great cities. Another 
 and a fearful evil which prevails, is the existence of 
 clubs or private gaming houses. These are every way 
 fascinating, and while they are managed in compara- 
 tive secrecy, they win away the young, the excitable 
 and the unsuspicious, until ruin stares them in the face. 
 The country is exempt from these subtle dens of in- 
 iquity. At first, the unsophisticated youth is induced 
 to visit one of these resorts from mere curiosity. He 
 is then stimulated, induced to play for a trifle, and 
 whether he win or lose, the excitement seizes upon his 
 mind, and the chances are that he will return again and 
 again. Those who have no passion for gaming, and 
 who have never indulged in it in its many forms, can 
 have no adequate idea of the power of its temptation ! 
 We some days since conversed with a gentleman of this 
 city, who, from the force of habit and in consequence 
 of a peculiar infirmity, is compelled to resort to card- 
 playing occasionally to pass his evening hours. He 
 has outlived all excitement upon the subject, plays 
 mechanically, and never risks a farthing. But he in- 
 
126 PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 forms us that he has seen some terrible cases, — cases 
 in which not only the young, but the old, have been 
 decoyed step by step, until they became infatuated, 
 mad, and, at last, utterly bankrupt. The arts of a 
 finished gambler consist of coolness, caution, courtesy, 
 and a peculiar adaptation to character. And thus it is 
 that the young and credulous, who fall into their 
 hands, have but a narrow chance of escape indeed. 
 In the humbler classes, and among the younger 
 mechanics, associations of various kinds, and all of an 
 apparently useful or benevolent object, are often full 
 of danger. Thousands have been ruined in this way. 
 Evil habits have been formed, ruffianism has been 
 taught, and terrible results have been produced. Nay, 
 it is almost impossible for the most vigilant to watch, 
 guard, restrain and protect youth in a great city. It 
 is difficult to have an eye upon them at all times; 
 while temptations may be said to be in every path. 
 The young, too, are impulsive, reckless and easily de- 
 ceived ; and thus they are readily led astray. Hence 
 every effort should be made to direct their thoughts, 
 tastes, and habits into proper channels. They should 
 be afforded opportunities of proper enjoyment, of a 
 character to interest their minds and touch their hearts, 
 and at the same time to yield rational recreation. The 
 mistake of too many parents is, that they do not min- 
 gle sufficiently with their children. They keep them 
 at a distance, and thus lose and impair their confidence 
 and chill their sympathies. It is indeed a rare thing 
 to find fathers and sons mingling together, and parti- 
 cipating in the same scenes and enjoyments. Some 
 allowance should of course be made for age and habit, 
 but there are times and seasons when friendly com- 
 
ANONYMOUS LETTEK WKITING. 127 
 
 munion would be found mutually advantageous, when 
 the ties of consanguinity would be strengthened, when 
 confidence would be revived and deepened, and the 
 hearts of both parties would be made to kindle and 
 glow toward each other. Youth, we repeat, is beset 
 with a thousand temptations, especially in a great city 
 like this, and while every possible restraint should be 
 imposed, a spirit of forbearance, generosity, kindness 
 and consideration should always be exercised. The 
 father, moreover, who plays the domestic despot ; who 
 avoids, neglects and drives his son from him, assumes 
 a fearful responsibility, and one that will return to 
 him some day in bitterness and sorrow. 
 
 mb €£m> 
 
 " The vile — the base — the treacherous." 
 
 WE are sorry to learn that cases of anonymous 
 letter- writing continue to occur, and with ob- 
 jects of the most malevolent nature. The practice is 
 at once cowardly and criminal, and it cannot be de- 
 nounced with too much severity. An individual who 
 can coolly sit down and prepare a letter, half truth 
 and half falsehood, or wholly the latter, with the ob- 
 ject of disturbing the peace of a family, of exciting 
 suspicion and distrust, and thus causing pain or an- 
 noyance, must be dead to every honorable impulse, 
 and capable, were he assured of escape, of stabbing in 
 
128 ANXMNYMOUS LETTER WHITING. 
 
 the dark and taking even life itself. This may seem 
 strong language, but it is every way applicable. The 
 anonymous letter-writer is among the meanest, the 
 vilest, the most degraded of God's creatures. We 
 have heard of frightful cases — cases where the habit 
 has been persevered in for years, and with a sys- 
 tem and malice almost incredible. The offender has 
 watched his victim with stealthy vigilance, has tracked 
 him from step to step, has pointed out and exagger- 
 ated his trifling errors, and nearly maddened him. 
 Unfortunately, too, innocent persons are apt to be 
 suspected, and a man becomes afraid even of his own 
 friends and associates. We are not aware that any 
 especial law exists upon the subject, inflicting the 
 severest punishment, but a restriction of the kind 
 should certainly be enacted. It sometimes happens 
 that this description of crime, for thus it should be 
 designated, is resorted to in jest. A sad error — and one 
 that is often attended with deplorable consequences. 
 A friend may be thus lost for life, and bitterness and 
 ill-will engendered, for which no satisfactory atone- 
 ment can *be made. A few years since, an individual 
 who occupied a high position as an officer of a rich 
 corporation, gave some unintentional offense to a sub- 
 ordinate, whereupon the latter, in a spirit of revenge, 
 assailed the other in a most fearful manner by anony- 
 mous letters. But, fortunately, the miscreant was dis- 
 covered and adequately punished. Instead of pro- 
 voking the dismissal of the individual assailed, as he 
 had hoped, he was himself discharged, and with such 
 a character that he did not recover from the blow for 
 years. Thus the bitter cup, which he had prepared 
 for the lips of another he was compelled himself to 
 
ANONYMOUS LETTER WRITING. 129 
 
 drink. In England, it is now a crime to write letters 
 threatening legal proceedings, even for a just cause, 
 where it can be inferred that the object is to obtain 
 money. The principle is a correct one. All efforts 
 of the kind should be discountenanced, and by legal 
 enactment. The system of extorting money by threats 
 and false charges, is carried on to a far greater extent 
 than most persons imagine ; and the error is, that the 
 individuals so threatened lack the moral nerve to 
 resist, fearful of exposure. Hence, they submit to the 
 first threat, and then, having committed themselves, 
 they are often preyed upon for years. Against anony- 
 mous letters, however, there is no protection. Their 
 authors are concealed, and they strike in the dark. 
 They venture to mingle just enough truth with the 
 falsehood to give a probability to their slanders, and 
 hence to make the poison effective. Alas ! for the 
 misery that has been caused in this way. How many 
 hearts have been estranged ; how many friendships 
 have been severed; how many hopes have been 
 blighted, and how much bitterness and anguish have 
 been produced ! There is little worth living for in 
 this world, with confidence between man and wife 
 and friend and friend, destroyed. And yet this con- 
 fidence is a sentiment of the utmost delicacy, which 
 the slightest whisper may impair. Nay, the very re- 
 petition of a statement in exaggerated terms, or the 
 insinuation of a doubt or distrust, will, under peculiar 
 circumstances, work infinite mischief. All, moreover, 
 are at times thoughtless and indiscreet. There are 
 few who have a constant watch and guard upon their 
 lips and their looks. If, therefore, a remark be rashly 
 made, and repeated in a malignant spirit, the whole 
 
130 LIFE AND ITS ANXIETIES. 
 
 meaning and motive may be changed, and what wag 
 intended in jest, or without any desire to injure, may 
 be distorted into a treachery, or a violation of friend- 
 ship. If, too, an indiscretion of this kind be seized 
 upon by some anonymous scribbler, the effect is to 
 annoy, perplex and agitate. The habit, we repeat, is 
 a base one, and it should be carefully avoided. We 
 verily believe that many a life has been sacrificed 
 through its agency. There are some persons who are 
 constituted so delicately and nervously, that a barbed 
 arrow of this description, even from an anonymous 
 source, wounds and rankles in the heart for years. 
 If, too, the suspicion be that it came from a pretended 
 friend or a daily associate, the pang is only the more 
 poignant. In brief, the anonymous letter-writer with 
 a vicious motive, is a disgrace to the human family, a 
 serpent-like enemy to whatever social or domestic cir- 
 cle he may belong. He should, when detected, be 
 shunned as a moral pestilence. 
 
 lift anh its %mxtfm ; or, I ftmg tra Jut 
 
 " And life has many deep anxieties." 
 
 IT HAS been contended by high authority, " that 
 few men die of age, and that almost all are victims 
 of disappointment, passional, or mental, or bodily toil, 
 or of accident." This may not be true to the full ex- 
 tent,, but it is measurably so. A large portion of 
 mankind wear themselves out by unnecessary excite- 
 
LIFE AND ITS ANXIETIES. 131 
 
 ment. They fret, fume and vex, and absolutely shorten 
 their days. They strain the human machine, until its 
 cords sna]f*and break. They overtask the intellectual 
 faculties, until at last they falter and fail. And thus 
 it is that moral suicide is committed. 
 
 The study of life, and the best means of prolonging 
 it, are not sufficiently attended to. A large portion 
 of the human family are too impulsive. They are 
 nervous, restless, feverish, and excited. They cannot 
 wait for the ordinary progress of events. They rush 
 on recklessly and impatiently, become anxious and 
 eager, and thus they lose, not only the balance of 
 mind, but the absolute control of the physical man. 
 This is especially the case in this country, and hence, 
 as compared with some portions of the old world, our 
 average duration of life is quite limited. Thousands, 
 we repeat, perish every year, through feverish anxiety 
 and unnecessary excitement. They are not disposed 
 to be calm, patient, and resolute, and to pursue an 
 even and correct course ; but they seek to accomplish 
 a certain end by a sudden movement — by some coup 
 cCetat, so to speak. They are not satisfied with ascend- 
 ing the ladder of fame or fortune, step by step, but 
 bound upward, three or four rounds at a time, and 
 thus they often lose their grasp or foothold, and are 
 dashed to the earth. 
 
 Life, even to the best regulated of disposition and 
 of mental control, is sufficiently full of shoals, quick- 
 sands and anxieties. Sickness, casualty and death lurk 
 in a thousand forms. These often assume the mask 
 of pleasure, and thus tempt to destruction. The fair 
 girl who nightly mingles in a round of fashion, and 
 retires to her couch long after the morning has com- 
 8 
 
132 LIFE AND ITS ANXIETIES. 
 
 menced, absolutely invites consumption and an early- 
 grave. So, too, even the robust man, who trifles with 
 health, mocks at exposure, and fancies that all man- 
 kind are mortal but himself. And so, likewise, the 
 merchant, the trader, the physician, and the attorney, 
 who overtask their powers, who permit their minds to 
 be constantly absorbed by some exciting topic, who 
 test and strain their intellectual faculties, and by living 
 in and laboring under constant anxieties, impair and 
 exhaust the very sources of existence, not only mental 
 but physical. 
 
 The truth simply is, that we are a fast people. We 
 are by far too eager and impulsive, and would accom- 
 plish in a day the work of a year. Our young men 
 are taught to indulge in visionary speculations, to be- 
 lieve in a thousand improbabilities, and thus to pro- 
 voke and encounter bitter, depressing and overwhelm- 
 ing disappointments. This was not the case in the 
 olden time. Our fathers were satisfied with a moderate 
 portion of the good things of this life. They were 
 contented with their lot. But not so their children. 
 Their expectations are unreasonable, and hence their 
 anxieties are keen, deep and restless. Life — physical 
 life — and mental equanimity, are not adequately 
 appreciated. 
 
 It has been well said that " man, of all the animals, 
 is one that seldom comes up to his average. He ought 
 to live a hundred years, according to the natural law, 
 but he rarely reaches eighty. The reason is obvious- 
 Man is not only the most irregular and the most in- 
 temperate, but he is the most laborious and hard 
 worked of all the animals. He is also the most irri- 
 table, and there is reason to believe, though we cannot 
 
LIFE AND ITS ANXIETIES. 133 
 
 tell what an animal secretly feels, that man more than 
 any other animal ; cherishes his wrath to keep it warm, 
 and consumes himself with the fire of his own secret 
 reflection." In brief, we attempt too much — we aim 
 beyond our efforts — we forget our fallibility, and thus 
 we often fall by the wayside, before the race is accom- 
 plished or the goal won. 
 
 A work recently published, entitled, " Dreams and 
 Eealities in the Life of a Pastor and Teacher," gives a 
 picture of the hero, Castlereagh, as that of one who 
 had attempted too much, and finally broke down 
 under the burthen. " And yet," continues the author, 
 " who is he that escapes without burning his fingers 
 badly from fires like these? Castlereagh, while all 
 was increasingly prosperous in outward respects — 
 society, school, and family — was breaking down under 
 
 a burden such as consigned W to an early grave 
 
 — that sapped the vigor of D 's manhood, that 
 
 drove Gr — — , the talented and eloquent, to the verge 
 of madness. A man may be a minister, a teacher, a 
 lawyer, a merchant, a mechanic, an editor, a doctor, a 
 farmer, and succeed; but make him all these, and 
 he will have in the same fire far too many irons. 
 Without knowing it fully, Castlereagh was carrying 
 on his mind too many heavy loads, and his strength 
 was tasked to the highest when others thought he 
 might be at rest. There was for him no rest. Every 
 moment not claimed by his society was claimed by 
 the school; and what was not employed there, was 
 sure to be in the family. Driven on by these great 
 divisions of the army of duty, happiness, health, and 
 even life itself were imperiled. Before fully aware of 
 it, his nervous system became improperly and danger- 
 
134 LIFE AND ITS ANXIETIES. 
 
 ously excited, a cold was followed by a cough. The 
 warm suns of June did not, neither did those of July f 
 relieve. Castlereagh, who had scarcely known a sick 
 day in his life, began to feel unwell, and apprehended 
 that he had gone too far. Yet who can immediately 
 stop in a career of life, involving all one's capital, all 
 one's plans, all relations to the community around 
 him? Nay, who but hopes yet to overcome his 
 present embarrassments and again go forward to the 
 attainment of complete success? So, between hope 
 and distrust, one still struggles, and his bark, strained 
 and quivering from mast-head to keel, is at last 
 
 " cast out on desert shore, 
 ***** there left to rot 
 And moulder in the winds and rains of heaven." 
 
 And this is the case of thousands. We overtask 
 our strength, assume fearful resposibilities, and nurse 
 consuming anxieties. Many fancy that they must be 
 here, there and everywhere, that no work can get on 
 without them, that their counsel, their efforts, and 
 their direct interference, are absolutely essential. And 
 thus they toil on from day to day, and from year to 
 year, until at last the delusion and the error are dis- 
 pelled, by realizing the startling fact, that they too are 
 fallible, and that the physical or mental man has given 
 way, before unnecessarily assumed responsibilities and 
 anxieties. Then comes the hour of self-reproach, of 
 regret and penitence. But, alas ! who shall bring back 
 the rosy hue of health to the cheek of the consumptive, 
 impart fresh strength to the tottering step of premature 
 age, or re- illumine the flickering and fading light of 
 intellect ? 
 
% \t little leateies of fife. 
 
 "The very virtues of his dearest friends 
 "Were doubted or assailed." 
 
 THEBB is scarcely a social circle that is not ocwi- 
 sionally annoyed by miserable little jealousies. 
 The general harmony is thus disturbed, bitterness of 
 feeling is engendered, estrangements take place, and 
 enmities are fomented. The grounds, too, in many 
 cases, are trifling, insignificant, and utterly unworthy 
 of serious consideration. Some slight offence is given, 
 unintentionally, perhaps, in the first place ; this is at- 
 tributed to an assumption of superiority, and a mis- 
 understanding ensues, and thus the breach, so inno- 
 cently caused, is gradually widened, until old friends 
 and early associates look upon each other with indif- 
 ference and dislike. A gentleman informed us, a short 
 time since, that he had committed an unpardonable 
 offence, by accidentally neglecting to invite three or 
 four friends, who are greatly esteemed by him, to a 
 small social party. He meant nothing unkind or dis- 
 courteous, and, in fact, never gave the matter a 
 moment s serious consideration. But he soon discov- 
 ered a change in their manner, and, on learning the 
 cause, endeavored to apologize and explain. But all 
 to no purpose. The slight was regarded as an insult, 
 and it was resented accordingly. Nay, so deeply did 
 it rankle, that soon after one of the offended individ- 
 uals gave a large and brilliant dinner-party, to which 
 
 (135) 
 
136 THE LITTLE JEALOUSIES OF LIFE. 
 
 he invited all his friends and intimate acquaintances 
 with the exception of the individual above referred to, 
 who was overlooked, as we may infer, in retaliation, 
 retribution, and revenge. On another occasion, a 
 citizen of some distinction deemed it expedient to cele- 
 brate an event connected with his business, and in so 
 doing he confined his invitations to such persons as 
 were immediately associated in kindred avocations. 
 But this was not understood by many others, and the 
 effect for a time was to give him infinite pain, for he 
 saw that he had inadvertently offended some of his 
 best friends. He endeavored to correct the error, by 
 giving another festival, and making the invitations as 
 general as possible. But even this expedient failed to 
 satisfy some. They denounced him as an upstart and 
 an adventurer, and treated him accordingly. It must 
 be confessed that the policy which is adopted by some 
 persons of assuming two characters, one cordial and 
 friendly at certain times, and another cold and repul- 
 sive at others, is by no means creditable. We are no 
 surprised, therefore, that indignation should occasion- 
 ally be felt at such pretensions and assumptions in 
 social life, especially when the parties who are slighted 
 are equally reputable. True, the proper plan is to 
 treat all such manifestations with contempt, for they 
 indicate either a narrow spirit or a little mind. The 
 airs which inflated and supercilious people assume, 
 are indeed ridiculous. 
 
 And yet there are weak-minded individuals in the 
 world, who do not hesitate to make many sacrifices — 
 sacrifices of old friends, tried companions, and kindly 
 feelings, with the object of creeping into some fashion- 
 able circle. Others bow down to wealth, without re- 
 
 
THE LITTLE JEALOUSIES OF LIFE. 137 
 
 gard to consistency of character. Not long since, a 
 lady was complaining to her daughter, because she did 
 not call more frequently upon a certain acquaintance. 
 The daughter, who was innocent and guileless, ex- 
 plained by observing that they had never been very 
 intimate. The mother rejoined, that circumstances 
 had altered, for " Mr. D. had not only moved into a 
 splendid mansion at the west end, but he had bought a 
 carriage and horses /" The same principle, so hollow 
 and hypocritical, is inculcated in a thousand forms. 
 Too many live, not for themselves, for truth, for in- 
 tegrity, for sincerity, and the sweet amenities of life, 
 but for the mockeries of fashion, and the petty vanities 
 and rivalries that characterize particular circles of 
 society. The little jealousies of life are manifested in 
 various ways. They produce slander, falsehood, ma- 
 lignity, and bitterness of heart. With some the pros- 
 perity of another is a source of annoyance and pain, 
 And thus character is attacked and virtue is under- 
 rated. Not satisfied with the blessings of Providence, 
 with high health, vigorous faculties, and buoyant for- 
 tune, a disposition is constantly manifested to dete- 
 riorate and villify, and every opportunity is seized 
 with the object of giving utterance to some harsh sen- 
 timent, some mean prejudice, or some vile slander. 
 Alas ! for these narrow envies ! They embitter feel- 
 ings, injure character, inflame passion, and are pro- 
 ductive in every sense, of misery and evil. 
 
%\t CJttrfnl soft % iloomg. 
 
 " Her presence, like a beam of love, 
 Mellowed and brightened all !" 
 
 THEEE are some persons who are always complain- 
 ing. The j are miserable and unhappy through- 
 out the year, or at least they seem to be. The world 
 is constantly at fault with them, and they rarely smile. 
 Address them with the ordinary compliments of the 
 day, and they are sure to find something to grumble 
 at. The weather is never of the right kind. It is too 
 hot or too cold, too wet or too dry ; and thus they 
 move on among their fellow-creatures, as a sort of per- 
 sonified chill. Their very appearance casts a shadow- 
 like gloom over all around and about them. At 
 home their meals are badly cooked, the servants are 
 neglectful, and the children noisy and disobedient. 
 Nothing goes on as it should. Every thing has a 
 drawback. Grayety is denounced as boisterousness, 
 and a laugh is treated as a vulgarity. The poor wife, 
 however obedient, is complained of, while if she should 
 be so unfortunate as to commit an error, it is magni 
 lied into a crime. 
 
 These gloomy persons are never in good health 
 They are always troubled with some ache or pain. 
 They are born to be miserable. At least they so con- 
 tend, and they often make themselves unhappy with- 
 out the slightest cause. Life to them is a curse instead 
 of a blessing. They will not or they cannot appre- 
 (138) 
 
THE CHEERFUL AND THE GLOOMY. 139 
 
 ciate the beneficence of Providence. If in narrow cir- 
 cumstances, the j regard themselves as among the most 
 unfortunate of mankind ; and if in the enjoyment of 
 abundant wealth, they become nervous, restless and 
 anxious lest the golden prize should slip from their 
 hands. Too much property they regard as a care and 
 an incumbrance. And yet they are eager for the ac- 
 cumulation of more. They are not satisfied with 
 themselves, and are at the same time envious and 
 jealous of the rest of mankind. They look through 
 jaundiced eyes, and are the victims of a discontented 
 mind. The curse is within. It is in the temper or 
 heart. Alas! for these wretched grumblers — these 
 miserable monomaniacs. They do not deserve the 
 blessing of God's sunshine, the pure air, and the clear 
 light of heaven, for they are ungrateful, insensible and 
 unappreciating. They have no thought for others. 
 Self is the absorbing idea; and thus the poor may 
 shiver in the shade, or languish on a bed of sickness, 
 without exciting in their bosoms even a momentary 
 sympathy ! 
 
 How beautiful, in contrast, is the cheerful, the buoy- 
 ant, and the bounding spirit. Life is to such all 
 couleur de rose. Every new scene has a charm, every 
 fresh incident an interest. The clouds of to-day are 
 regarded as passing clouds, and sunshine is looked for 
 on the morrow. A kind word is ever on the lips, a 
 gentle thought is ever in the heart, a pleasant smile is 
 ever in the countenance. To say a clever thing, or to 
 do a good turn, is deemed a pleasure. Friendship is 
 treasured as one of the brightest jewels of the human 
 soul, and love, in all its richness and truth, fidelity 
 and warmth, is regarded as an emanation f rom tke 
 
140 THE CHEERFUL AND THE GLOOMY. 
 
 
 "Divine Being himself. Life is full of hope and prom- 
 ise ; and even the mishaps and misfortunes to which 
 all are more or less liable, are viewed in the true 
 spirit of philosophy, as intended to chasten, to res- 
 train, to keep us within moderate bounds, and to 
 remind us of our dependence upon Providence. The 
 presence of the cheerful in spirit acts like a beam of 
 sunshine to the social circle. It warms and brightens. 
 It softens and subdues. The quality is a happy one 
 in every condition of life. But it is especially so 
 among friends and associates, and with those who 
 have pledged themselves for weal or for woe. Imagine 
 the household that is presided over by a spirit of dis- 
 content, disquiet, dissatisfaction and gloom. The effect 
 cannot be but disheartening and chilling. Nay, one 
 result inevitably is to make that home deserted. The 
 cheerfulness that cannot be found there will be sought 
 elsewhere. The complaints that are uttered again 
 and again, at last become painful, and are avoided. 
 Cheerfulness we regard as one of the essentials of 
 domestic life. It should be cultivated with constant 
 assiduity. Without it, fretfulness, peevishness, anx- 
 iety, and collision are almost inevitable. All who 
 have determined, by choice, or who are forced by cir- 
 cumstances, to mingle together freely and frequently, 
 to occupy hours and days in each other's society, 
 should not permit themselves to give way to discon- 
 tent, dissatisfaction, fretfulness, and complaint. A 
 sunny smile of welcome has touched and won many 
 an obdurate heart. A kind word and a genial look, 
 together with a cheerful temper, will, in the end, 
 prove irresistible. At least this is our doctrine, and 
 we bespeak for it a fair trial. 
 
fnbkretioir; or, % (&mai of Haste. 
 
 " The rash of speech, 
 The thoughtless and the harsh." 
 
 THEEB are very few individuals who have not 
 suffered severely at times, in consequence of 
 haste or precipitation. Even the wisest occasionally 
 forget themselves and act rashly. It is impossible to 
 be ever watchful, ever vigilant, ever thoughtful, con- 
 siderate and prudent. A word fitly spoken, has a 
 magic and a charm that at once soothes and conciliates. 
 But a word unfitly spoken, especially if harsh, sharp, 
 or irritating, will sometimes inflict a wound that can- 
 not be wholly healed for years. The errors of 
 haste are countless, and they are committed daily 
 and hourly. All are more or less forgetful in this 
 respect. The impulsive are especially so. They act 
 first and think afterward; and not unfrequently the 
 after thought is full of bitterness, regret, and self-re- 
 pioach. The difficulty, then, is to make amendment 
 or reparation. Duty recommends a frank, manly, and 
 straightforward course — an explanation or an apology. 
 But false pride counsels equi vocation, prevarication, 
 or adherence to the error, and if this advice be taken, 
 as it too often is, the consequences are always painful. 
 It is, moreover, such an easy thing to atone for an un- 
 intentional misstep, a false impression or a hasty re- 
 mark, that the surprise is, that any neglect or avoid 
 the discharge of so solemn a duty. How many friend- 
 
 (141) 
 
142 INDISCRETION. 
 
 ships have been broken, how many fond ties have 
 been severed, how many hearts have been lacerated 
 through errors of haste and indiscretion ! The thought- 
 less and the reckless are constantly committing ■ blun- 
 ders of this description. They talk at random, with- 
 out reflection, consideration or feeling, and are ever 
 and anon surprised, when they discover that they have 
 that they never discover their error. The injury is 
 received in silence, but it is not forgotten. At times, 
 ceived in silence, but it is not forgotten. At times, 
 too, their explanations only make the matter worse, 
 because out of place, or in bad taste. And, again, 
 they persist in a misrepresentation or an insult, and 
 thus they are either treated with contempt, as vile and 
 base, or they are punished in some suitable manner. 
 "With the young and inexperienced, errors of haste 
 are of course natural, and some allowance should be 
 made. They proceed from a want of judgment, igno- 
 rance of the world, and impetuosity of disposition. 
 But even under such circumstances, the true policy 
 of the frank and the manly, is to explain fully and 
 generously at the first opportunity. Accounts of this 
 kind should never be left unsettled. Better arrange 
 them at once, and in the right spirit, than permit an 
 accumulation of interest, and thus an increase of the 
 indebtedness. There are some persons we are aware, 
 who fancy that there is dishonor or indignity in making 
 an apology, even when they have unwittingly done 
 wrong. This, as it strikes us, is a sad mistake, not 
 only of judgment, but of morals. All are mortal, and 
 all are, therefore, liable to commit indiscretions, and 
 indulge in infirmities. But the error should be cor 
 rected as speedily as possible, and thus the sin purged 
 
INDISCRETION. 143 
 
 from the conscience. He is indeed blind, perverse 
 and bigoted, who does wrong, and then persists in it 
 because lie fancies that there would be humiliation in 
 acknowledging and taking back the offence. We 
 fully agree with an ancient philosopher, who contended 
 that, after the man who never had sinned, he should 
 be held in the highest esteem who was the readiest to 
 apologize, on being satisfied that he had committed an 
 offence. If this doctrine were generally received and 
 acted upon, mankind would get along much more 
 smoothly, quietly and happily. The quick in temper, 
 the fiery of blood, and the impatient of spirit, are con- 
 stantly committing errors of haste. Most of these, 
 however, are quite as ready to make an atonement, 
 and it is well that it is so. They are known, their in- 
 firmity is recognized, and thus all allowance is made 
 for their inconsiderate conduct and expressions. They 
 are precipitate by nature, and to some extent they 
 cannot help themselves. But if they are the first to 
 say a harsh thing, they are also the first to recall it ; 
 and thus the error is speedily repaired. And this is 
 the true policy. It should be universally inculcated 
 and practiced. Let us endeavor to do unto others, as 
 we would they should do unto us. And surely, let us 
 not perpetrate the folly, nay the outrage of committing 
 a wrong, and then add insult to injury, by adhering 
 to the act of injustice from obstinacy or false pride. 
 There is, we repeat, scarcely an individual alive, who 
 has attained to years of reflection, who has not com- 
 mitted errors of haste. Nay, there are few who can- 
 not recall many with mortification and regret. We 
 either perpetrate them, or we see them perpetrated 
 every day. Indiscretion to some extent, is an almost 
 
144: THE ERRING. 
 
 universal failing. And while this is conceded, while 
 we feel that we cannot have constant watch and guard 
 over our minds, our passions, and our tongues, let us 
 at least be ready to make amendment, generous and 
 ample, at the very first opportunity. There is nothing 
 mean or unmanly in such a course; but, on the con 
 trary, it is right, high-minded, becoming, and honor- 
 able. The sensible merchant or man of business re- 
 views his pecuniary accounts daily. Why then should 
 we not, in the same spirit of prudence and integrity, 
 and at the first seasonable moment, consider and 
 adjust all violations of taste, courtesy, morals and 
 propriety ! 
 
 Crattg; or, Crime, fa €mm> anb fa 
 
 " We do pray for mercy ! 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy." 
 
 WE notice with pleasure, that of late years a truly 
 enlightened policy has been adopted in most 
 of the leading penal institutions of the land. In the 
 first place, great pains are taken to win the misguided 
 from the error of their ways, and in the second, an ef- 
 fort is made to discover the real cause of crime, and 
 thus, if possible, to provide a remedy. In the olden 
 time, the convict was dealt with harshly. He was re- 
 garded as an outcast from society, as hardened in 
 iniquity, and almost incapable of amendment, or re- 
 
THE ERRING. 145 
 
 form. The voice of kindness was seldom addressed to 
 him; he was often compelled, by the severest punish- 
 ment, to fulfill his daily task, and thus at the expiration 
 of his sentence, he entered the world again, dogged in 
 spirit, revengeful in disposition, and determined to 
 strike back again at society at large. The result was, 
 that he was soon again convicted, and was then dealt 
 with more severely than ever. 
 
 But a better, a milder, a more humane system now 
 prevails. At the latter part of the last century, " the 
 Philadelphia Society for Alleviating the Miseries of 
 Public Prisons," was founded, and ever since, its mem- 
 bers have devoted themselves to the moral and mental 
 improvement of the erring, and often, as we learn from 
 the official records, with the fullest success. The In- 
 spectors of the "Eastern Penitentiary of Pennsyl- 
 vania," state, in their last Eeport, that " no one who 
 has not witnessed the effect of the discipline which 
 rests on kindness toward the convict, and a desire for 
 his reform, can fully appreciate the humanizing ten- 
 dencies of its operation. Thus, during the past year, 
 with four hundred and sixteen inmates in prison, but 
 fifteen cases of punishment occurred." "Nay," con- 
 tinue the Inspectors, " so little need exists for harsh- 
 ness, that it may be said to be unknown in our 
 administration." This is indeed gratifying, and it speaks 
 trumpet -tongued as to the beneficent influence of the 
 kindness. This, too, be it remembered, within the 
 walls of a Penitentiary, and among convicted felons 
 of all varieties. What an admonition is here con- 
 veyed ! 
 
 Surely, in our daily intercourse with our fellow- 
 creatures, a similar policy might be adopted, and with 
 
1 *6 THE ERRING. 
 
 advantage. Another portion of the report alludes to 
 the social relations, and the moral condition of the in- 
 mates. From this we learn, that the temptations to 
 crime were "bad company," "revenge," "intemper 
 ance," "shame," "paternal example," "domestic afflic- 
 tion," "extravagance," and "acquisitiveness." The 
 cases were rare where any settled or fixed determina- 
 tion to commit evil was discovered. Thus, even 
 among these, "the vilest of the vile," the victims were 
 misled, and might, by proper training, have been saved. 
 This condition of affairs should be considered in a 
 thoughtful and forgiving spirit. Wo human being, 
 however elevated his position, can conceive what he 
 would have become, had he been deprived in early 
 life, of parental care, proper training, moral culture, 
 and intellectual improvement. While, therefore, it is 
 essential for the protection of society, that offenders of 
 all grades should be adequately punished, the true 
 duty of the philanthropist is to make generous allow- 
 ances, not only for the temptations, but for the lia- 
 bility to embrace them, and to act accordingly. 
 
 The force and influence of education cannot be too 
 highly estimated. It is stated that "of the one hun- 
 dred and forty-six convicts who were committed to 
 the Eastern Penitentiary last year, only seven could 
 be regarded as having a good English education ; while 
 thirty-eight of the aggregate were minors." These 
 facts are at once telling and impressive, and they show 
 in the most conclusive manner the necessity of mental 
 cultivation. This, in connection with moral training, 
 cannot be too earnestly urged, as the best possible pre- 
 ventive of crime, It will be observed, however, that 
 evil society" is mentioned as one great cause of error 
 
THE ERRING. 147 
 
 and wrong-doing, and that it is so, is beyond all ques- 
 tion. There are many natures that are wonderfully 
 imitative and plastic. They do as others do, and 
 either yield with every impulse, or at the sugges- 
 tion of another. How essential, therefore, that such 
 should be surrounded by good influences! Many a 
 promising youth has been lost, by submission to the 
 fiery ordeal of corrupt society. His nature has been 
 yielding, and the temptation has been strong. This is 
 especially the case in great cities. A thousand snares 
 and allurements are held out, in order to resist which 
 there must be moral as well as mental force. The 
 wonder is, not that a few occasionally fall by the way, 
 but that so many wrestle boldly and manfully, and 
 achieve a victory. 
 
 But the first error should not be regarded as fatal. 
 Another chance should be afforded ; and when, alas I 
 the shame and humiliation of conviction are added, it 
 is indeed difficult, even for the stout of heart, to stand 
 up again in the vigor of manhood, and make an effort 
 to regain the lost position in society. Nevertheless, 
 to this laudable end should all prison discipline and 
 all kindly interference on the part of the philanthropic 
 be directed. Many an erring brother has been won 
 back to the right path, and restored to position, man- 
 liness, and honor. The work is one that commends 
 itself to the attention of ail who wish well to human 
 nature. What greater triumph could be imagined 
 than the rescue of a fallen soul! What nobler 
 achievement than the restoration of an erring friend ! 
 What higher reward than the consciousness of having 
 averted a downward career, and reillumined with 
 hope, and life, and energy, a despairing bosom I 
 9 
 
148 THE POOR INEBRIATE. 
 
 There are, among our fellow-citizens, some who take 
 delight in doing good. They seek out the abodes of 
 the wretched, the abandoned, the outcast, and the 
 criminal, and not only comfort and console, but en- 
 deavor to make them penitent, and to persuade them 
 to a better and brighter course for the future. But 
 for such kindly and friendly sympathy and counsel, 
 the broken in spirit would sink into the deepest abys- 
 ses of despair, never to rise again. But there are 
 angels in human form, ministers of a high and a heav- 
 enly beneficence, and to all such in their holy missions, 
 we bid— God speed ! 
 
 " He is thy brother still." 
 
 THE movement that has just been made in this 
 city,* for the establishment of a Temporary 
 Home for the poor Inebriate, is well calculated to 
 enlist the sympathy of all who can appreciate and feel 
 for the condition of the erring, the misguided and the 
 unfortunate. That intemperance is a vice of the most 
 deplorable kind, and that it is productive of fearful 
 consequences, not only to the victims themselves, but 
 to their friends and families, is a fact that no intelligent 
 individual will deny. The life of the habitual drunkard 
 
 * A public meeting was held in Philadelphia on the 20th of May, 1S58, at which 
 It was resolved to establish a Temporary Home for Inebriates. 
 
 
THE POOR INEBRIATE. 149 
 
 is one of misery, remorse, agony and shame. He is, 
 in some sense, the mere sport of a demon. However 
 kind, gentle and generous he may be in his rational, 
 thoughtful and temperate moments, the chances are as 
 a thousand to one, that when laboring under the influ- 
 ence of the intoxicating draught, he will either become 
 an idiot, a brute or a fiend. All sense of propriety 
 will be forgotten, all dignity of character will be thrown 
 aside, and the wretched sot or madman will play such 
 fantastic tricks, as to make him a buffoon and the 
 sport of the heartless, or grovel so low, as to render it 
 necessary for him to be concealed from the public 
 gaze and the popular scorn. 
 
 How many hearts have been lacerated, how many 
 hearths have been made desolate, how many families 
 have been impoverished, how many beings have been 
 hurried into untimely graves through the agency of 
 intemperance I The catalogue, if it could be obtained, 
 would present a terrible array indeed. Fond and 
 favorite sons have become outcasts, wanderers and 
 vagabonds, and doting parents have wept tears of blood 
 over the prostrate, the fallen, and the degraded. Char- 
 acter has been destroyed, health has been impaired, 
 and even murder has been prompted and perpetrated 
 through the agency of this terrible infirmity. Can we 
 wonder then, that ever and anon the good and the 
 wise throughout the land, seeing the wreck and the 
 havoc that are produced by the wine-cup, should rouse 
 themselves to an intense appreciation of the evils and 
 the terrors of intoxication, and should make an extra- 
 ordinary effort to eradicate, or at least to modify, so 
 desolating and destructive a vice ! And yet the poor 
 drunkard is often to be pitied. He is, himself, the 
 
150 THE POOR INEBRIATE. 
 
 keenest sufferer, and whenever permitted to pause in 
 his downward career, and to contemplate the ignominy 
 of his position, he must feel " all the tortures of the 
 damned." Id many cases too, he would repent, abstain, 
 and retrace his footsteps, if a fitting opportunity were 
 afforded, and he could exercise the moral power. It 
 should be remembered, that some of our most enlight- 
 ened physicians regard intemperance as a disease, and 
 urge that it should be treated accordingly, That it is 
 so in many cases, we have not a doubt. Who indeed, 
 has not known of individuals, with the brightest pros- 
 pect before them, surrounded with every comfort and 
 luxury, accomplished, talented, and powerful, and yet, 
 so wedded to this one infirmity, so overcome and con- 
 quered by this subtle demon, as to have gone on step 
 by step, plunging deeper and more downward into 
 the fatal abyss, until reputation was sullied, fortune 
 was impaired, and life itself was sacrificed. There are 
 again, not a few of the erring, the struggling and the 
 indigent, who are scarcely masters of themselves 
 They give way before the first blow of misfortune, 
 and in the excitement of the moment, they fly to 
 the maddening yet Lethean draught, as to their last 
 and only solace. And when once the fatal step is 
 taken, when once the reason trembles and totters, 
 when the brain becomes inflamed, and the eye il- 
 lumined by an unnatural glare — who may tell the 
 consequences ? And is there no remedy ? Can none 
 of these unfortunates, these guilty, these reckless and 
 despairing victims of a vile habit, be rescued from 
 such a fearful career, and restored to the ways of well- 
 doing ? Is the system that has heretofore been pur- 
 sued the right one? Should the poor drunkard be 
 
TEMPTATION. lt)l 
 
 sent to the prison or the almshouse, and thus at once 
 degraded and punished ; or should an effort be made 
 to admonish, persuade, reform and cure him ? There 
 cannot be a doubt, as to the proper policy under the 
 circumstances, and hence it is, that we sincerely rejoice 
 that preliminary steps have been taken in this city, 
 for the purpose of establishing A temporary home 
 for the inebriate. While we denounce the vice, 
 let us endeavor to do something for the victims. 
 While we regard " inebriety as a great misfortune and 
 a great sin," let us remember that we are all erring, 
 human, finite and fallible beings, and that we owe it 
 to society and humanity, to step aside from the ordi- 
 nary paths of life, to penetrate the hovels, the alleys 
 and the by-ways, if thereby we can rescue and relieve 
 a fallen brother. " None are all evil," and even the 
 poor drunkard, despised, contemned and derided, as 
 he too generally is, may yet have, within his mind 
 and his heart, a lingering spark of generosity and 
 virtue, that only requires to . be fanned by kindness, 
 sympathy and benevolence, to kindle it into a bright 
 and regenerating flame. 
 
 Cemptatm— CJt Jfirst Jak Stop. 
 
 Lead us not into temptation.' 
 
 PERHAPS the highest condition of moral courage 
 is that which is able to resist pressing temptation. 
 There are few men who know themselves thoroughly, 
 
152 TEMPTATION. 
 
 or whose characters are fully developed, until they 
 have been sorely tried. Adversity is sometimes the 
 test and touchstone, and sometimes prosperity. It is 
 an easy thing for an individual to move along smoothly 
 and quietly, who has no wants, no necessities ; whose 
 worldly affairs are prosperous, whose time is suffici- 
 ently occupied, who is moderate in disposition, and 
 whose temper is calm and tranquil. But let the cir- 
 cumstances of that individual change, let him be 
 harassed from day to day and week to week, let ruin 
 threaten on the one hand and beggary on the other, 
 let dishonor and disgrace appear on the one side, and 
 temptation and a brighter prospect on the other, and 
 who may imagine the effects, or predict the conse- 
 quences ? The great Arch-fiend himself, knowing the 
 power of temptation, took the Saviour of mankind to 
 the top of a high mountain, and spread before him, in 
 the most alluring colors, a picture of Principalities and 
 Powers, well calculated to dazzle and bewilder any but 
 an incorruptible Being. And so at the present day, 
 Temptation is seen in a thousand forms. A little while 
 since, and the Emperor of all the Eussias, inflamed by 
 the madness of ambition, and regardless of right and 
 justice, determined upon the spoliation of the Otto- 
 man Empire. But he was unwilling to undertake the 
 task single-handed, and thus he, serpent-like, and with 
 a degree of plausibility that has few parallels in the 
 history of monarchs, tempted Great Britain and 
 France, by an offer of a portion of the spoils. Those 
 Governments resisted, greatly to their honor, and 
 hence the bloody conflict that has since been waged by 
 the Czar against the Sultan and his allies. The fearful 
 moment for the weak and the infirm of purpose, is when 
 
TEMPTATION. 153 
 
 misfortune is at hand, when difficulty threatens, and 
 disaster is apprehended. Then the subtle voice of 
 temptation is heard— the voice it may be of the Evil 
 One, and a thousand means of extrication and recovery 
 are presented. Alas ! for the listener at such a crisis. 
 The first false step, and all conscientious scruples soon 
 vanish. It is then that the struggle takes place be- 
 tween the two principles — the principles of virtue and 
 of vice— of right and of wrong. It is, indeed difficult 
 to resist, especially when ruin is apparent on the one 
 hand, and escape on the other. The escape, in a great 
 majority of cases, amounts to a mockery and delusion ; 
 but the mind is maddened to excitement, the heart is 
 agonized by alarm, the reason is overcome by conflict- 
 ing emotions, and hence, in an evil hour, the first fatal 
 plunge is made — the first great outrage is perpetrated 
 — the first fearful iniquity is committed. If, at such 
 a time, and under such circumstances, sufficient moral 
 courage can be summoned to resist the tempter, if 
 nerve enough can be called into requisition to face the 
 first disaster, the chances are a thousand to one that 
 the storm will blow by, and all will soon be well again. 
 But it is exactly this kind of courage in which so 
 many are deficient. A sense of false pride influences 
 and controls, and rather than acknowledge that their 
 position is one of difficulty or humiliation, they resort 
 to some perilous expedient or fearful wrong. A year 
 before, and when in a condition of high prosperity, had 
 such an idea oeen suggested to them, had such a policy 
 • been proposed, they would have scouted it with scorn. 
 But then they were not in a condition to be tempted 
 with impunity and with success. Then there was no 
 apparent necessity, and they were in full possession of 
 
154 TEMPTATION. 
 
 all their mental and moral faculties. This, in all 
 probability, was the exact condition of the great rail- 
 road defaulter in New York, whose case and whose 
 errors have created such a sensation throughout the 
 Union. He was an honest man, when beyond the 
 reach of temptation, and would then have denounced 
 just as bitterly as he has since been denounced, the 
 perpetrator of a similar fraud. But the storm came, 
 he lacked the nerve to resist it, and rather than show 
 his hand and admit his error, he ventured one false 
 step, and then the others followed in quick succession, 
 until there yawned before him. an abyss of infamy and 
 horror. "The life of that unhappy man, from the mo- 
 ment of the commission of the first fatal error, must 
 have been one of constant anxiety and anguish. His 
 mind must have been haunted by the fear of discovery, 
 
 and then with the accumulated horrors of shame and 
 
 • 
 
 disgrace, abandonment of family, attempted escape, 
 possible arrest and trial, conviction, and a thousand 
 other fearful apprehensions. And such has been the 
 case on many former occasions, and such will be the 
 case again and again. What, then, is the moral of all 
 this ? a Let him that standeth, take heed lest he fall 1" 
 Let us distrust ourselves, admit the fallibility of human 
 nature, watch and guard our weaknesses constantly, 
 and avoid and resist by every possible means, the fas- 
 cinations of temptation. And when, too, we see 
 around us, the erring, the irresolute, and the weak, 
 goaded into some act of imprudence or of crime, 
 either by ignorance, by association, or by want — let us 
 indulge a mercifnl judgment, and conceive that we, 
 too, might have faltered and fallen under precisely 
 similar circumstances. Only a few years since, and a 
 
 
TEMPTATION. 155 
 
 sad case passed immediately under our observation. A 
 young man who occupied one of the highest positions 
 in Philadelphia, was induced to indulge beyond his 
 means in stock operations. He lost again and again, 
 and at last, in the hope of recovering his losses, he 
 ventured to employ in a similar manner, a sum of 
 oney that had been confided to him in trust. The 
 result was most deplorable. The trust fund was also 
 lost, his character was destroyed, and in utter despair, 
 he hastened to another city, where, unable to wrestle 
 against the misfortunes of his position, and the recol- 
 lection of his former reputation and prosperity, he sick- 
 ened and died at the early age of thirty. The first 
 temptation was a sudden fortune through the agency 
 of stock operations, and the second was the recovery 
 of his impaired position, by the misapplication of 
 funds confided to him in the most solemn manner. 
 But we need not multiply illustrations. They may be 
 seen daily and hourly in almost every walk of life. 
 Let us then invoke the moral courage, to resist the 
 first whisperings of the subtle serpent, and constantly 
 repeat the prayer — "Lead us not into tempta- 
 tion.' 1 
 
ilfornth fife.— Ultttaal ^takmmt vs. 
 fttampatiMfitg of Cemper. 
 
 "And to be wroth, with one we love, 
 Doth work like madness in the brain." — Coleridge. 
 
 WITHIN a few years, cases of difficulty, misun- 
 derstanding, and separation in married life 
 have, as it seems to us, greatly increased; and the 
 alleged cause, in the majority of instances, has been 
 " incompatibility of disposition." In other words, the 
 parties have not harmonized together, have not deter- 
 mined to make due allowances for the imperfections 
 and infirmities of each other, have indulged in out- 
 breaks of temper, which, increasing from day to day, 
 have, in the end, been productive the of most deplorable 
 consequences. Either they misunderstood each other 
 at the commencement, or they forgot in married life 
 the rules of forbearance and indulgence which they 
 practiced in the sunny days of courtship. All, it 
 should be remembered, are imperfect. All have their 
 faults and frailties ; and while in early life, in the flush 
 and buoyancy of youth and spring, these little spots 
 on the sun of character and disposition may not be 
 seen, or be disregarded, if seen, we should be careful 
 not to magnify them in after years, or to refer to them 
 as if they had been discovered for the first time. The 
 doctrine of mutual forbearance cannot be too sedu- 
 lously cultivated and practiced, especially in married 
 (156) 
 
MARRIED LIFE. 157 
 
 life. " Trifles light as air" sometimes annoy and irri- 
 tate. A harsh word will excite distrust or produce 
 pain, while an angry look will rouse in the sensitive 
 breast, apprehensions of the keenest kind. How im- 
 portant, too, is the control of temper ! And this lan- 
 guage will apply as well to one sex as the other. It is 
 unreasonable in the husband to suppose that he may 
 indulge in violence of speech and harshness of manner, 
 and yet meet with nothing but kindness and forbear- 
 ance in return. And so also it is absurd in the wife, 
 to fancy that she may fret, fume and scold, hour by 
 hour and day by day, and all with impunity. There 
 must be reciprocity. There must be a disposition to 
 give and to take. There must be a determination to 
 bear and forbear — to conciliate and compromise. It 
 often happens that tastes differ widely with reference 
 to company, social amusements, modes of living, and 
 worldly appearances. The husband, for example, may 
 be a business man, actively and arduously engaged 
 throughout the day, and exhausted in some degree by 
 nightfall. Under such circumstances, it is unreason- 
 able in the wife to expect him to enter into the giddy 
 mazes of fashion, to keep up till midnight at some 
 brilliant party, and to follow this system night after 
 night, or even several times during each week. Either 
 one of three things must give way under such a policy 
 — the health, the business, or the social festival. The 
 two former are among the essentials, and hence they 
 should not be trifled with. A sensible woman will so 
 understand the case, and govern herself accordingly. 
 On the other hand, a gay and dashing belle, one per- 
 haps who has been petted and spoiled, or one who is 
 in the enjoyment of high health, youth and beauty, 
 
158 MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 should, as a wife, not be deprived of all gay and 
 cheerful society. She should not be compelled to 
 sacrifice all her friends and companions, to gratify the 
 disposition or satisfy the selfishness of her husband. 
 Both, we repeat, should yield something. There 
 should be a mutual understanding. The wife should 
 regard and consider the cares of the out-door world, 
 and the anxieties to which all men of business are 
 more or less liable. One of the first duties which a 
 man owes to his wife, is to provide her with the com- 
 forts of social existence, and this can only be done by 
 a prompt and faithful attendance to his business ; and 
 one of the first duties which a wife owes to her hus- 
 band is, to make his home cheerful, sunny, sacred — 
 the happiest spot on earth. Let her surround it with 
 every possible temptation — let her always welcome 
 him with a smile — let his wishes be the predominant 
 thought in her heart and her mind, and she will win 
 him away from a thousand fascinations of the out-door 
 world. 
 
 But, we repeat, there should be a mutual effort to 
 please. There are hours in the life of every one, 
 when a cheering voice, a consoling word, and an en- 
 couraging smile, are absolutely essential. And where 
 should these be sought for if not at home? " Nothing," 
 says a celebrated writer, "could be more touching 
 than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been 
 all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial 
 roughness, while treading the prosperous path of life, 
 suddenly rising in mental force, to be the comforter 
 and supporter of the husband under misfortunes, 
 abiding with unshrinking firmness, the bitterest blast 
 of adversity. As the vine which has long twined its 
 
MARRIED LIFE. ■ 159 
 
 graceful foliage about the oak, and has been lifted by 
 it into sunshine, will, when the hardy plant has been 
 rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its 
 caressing tendrils, and bind up its shattered boughs ; 
 so, too, it is beautifully ordained by Providence that 
 woman, who is the ornament and dependent of man in 
 his happier hours, should be his stay and solace when 
 smitten with dire and sudden calamity, winding her- 
 self into the rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly 
 supporting his drooping head, and binding up his 
 broken heart." 
 
 But is this ever the case, or are there too many ex- 
 ceptions ? Alas ! we fear that with the great multi- 
 tude there are faults on both sides. There are few 
 even of those who have entered the wedded state, who 
 strive from the commencement to soften the ways of 
 life the one to the other, to minister constantly to the 
 comforts and happiness, to remember and discharge 
 all their duties and responsibilities. And when, too, 
 as it often happens, the demon-spirit of an evil temper 
 is constantly manifested, not only in little things but 
 in great, when a shrill, harsh voice of complaint is 
 perpetually ringing in the ears of one or the other — 
 when a disposition to find fault without cause, and 
 thus to annoy and irritate, is constantly apparent; 
 when the husband regards himself as a despot, and 
 treats his wife as a slave ; or when the wife, on the 
 other hand, is constantly exacting and never striving 
 to discharge her part in the harmonious obligation, 
 the effects are bitter, painful, and every way melan- 
 choly. And yet there is no relation on this side of 
 the grave, more sacred, more dignified, or more ele- 
 vated, than that of husband and wife. The parties 
 
160 THE PEEVISH AND THE PASSIONATE. 
 
 might be, and should be, to each other, perpetual sources 
 of consolation and pleasure. There should be no dis- 
 trust, no suspicion, no equivocation between beings so 
 circumstanced. They should live as much as possible 
 as if animated by one soul and aiming at one destiny. 
 Neither should look for perfection in the other, and 
 yet each should endeavor to excel the other in generous 
 efforts of gentleness, kindness, and affection. It has 
 been well said that " in this world there is nothing of 
 such value as affection, and the most trifling expression 
 thereof, even though it be a single word of endearment, 
 is in the ears that are properly attuned, a pleasanter 
 sound than that of gold pieces." Think of these hints, 
 gentle reader, apply them to your daily practice, and 
 forthwith proceed to correct and amend your many 
 errors of omission and commission. 
 
 " The worst of slaves is lie whom passion rules." 
 
 - ' " How terrible is passion ! how our reason 
 
 Falls down before it, while the tortur'd frame, 
 Like a ship dash'd by fierce encountering tides, 
 And of her pilot spoil'd, drives round and round, 
 The sport of wind and wave." 
 
 11 ljWEKY human creature," says an eminent writer, 
 
 JLi "is sensible of the propensity to some infirmity 
 
 of temper, which it should be his care to correct and 
 
 subdue, particularly in the early part of life; else, 
 
THE PEEVISH AND THE PASSIONATE. 161 
 
 when arrived at a state of maturity, he may relapse 
 into those faults which were originally in his nature, 
 and which require to be watched and kept under 
 through the whole course of his life." W^ have sel- 
 dom met with so much real wisdom in so small a com- 
 pass. The doctrine is true, the philosophy is sound. 
 All have their infirmities. Every human creature is 
 liable to some weakness or some vice. There is no 
 such thing as a perfect being under the sun. But, in- 
 asmuch as the mind may be improved by education, 
 and the manners by association, so the heart may be 
 purified, the temper softened, and the disposition con- 
 trolled by the employment of the proper means. We 
 should apply to ourselves the rules that we are so apt 
 to apply to others. "We should " see ourselves as 
 others see us ;" and having ascertained our infirmities, 
 we should not only strive for the day and the hour, 
 but constantly to obtain the mastery over, and thus 
 the means of correcting them. Are we peevish, fret- 
 ful and irritable? Do we permit ourselves to be 
 annoyed unnecessarily by trifles ; and then, in very 
 perverseness, do we annoy and make all around us 
 unhappy? Are we selfish or disinterested in our 
 general conduct? If we have committed an error, 
 and are suffering from the consequences, do we in 
 justice and generosity take the full penalty to our- 
 selves, or do we make an effort to fix the responsibility 
 upon others? Do we exercise self-control, self-re- 
 straint and self-denial, and while paying proper regard 
 to our own interests and those of the beings imme- 
 diately dependent upon us — do we recollect that we 
 owe other duties to society, and especially to the 
 afflicted, the suffering and the indigent? Let us re 
 
162 THE PEEVISH AND THE PASSIONATE. 
 
 view our conduct for a single month. Have we out- 
 raged any law, have we violated any trust, have we, 
 by word or by deed, and without the slightest neces- 
 sity, rendered any one unhappy? Have we been 
 petulant and peevish without reason ; have we yielded 
 to infirmities and errors that it is our duty to com- 
 mand and control ? 
 
 Perhaps we are among the passionate — that un- 
 happy class of human beings who are constantly get- 
 ting excited, and who in their fits of anger inflict 
 wounds that rankle for years. A passionate man is 
 indeed a sad head for a household. He is often a 
 tyrant without knowing it. and gives pain without de- 
 signing or intending to cause at. He may regret his 
 conduct immediately after, and yet the next day or 
 the next week he will indulge in a similar outburst. 
 It is quite as essential in childhood that the temper 
 should be trained and controlled, as the mind, and the 
 task is just as practicable. But some parents are so 
 forgetful of this that they absolutely teach their chil- 
 dren to become torments, not only to themselves, but 
 to all over whom in after life they may exercise in- 
 fluence. A boy with a bad temper, unless it be 
 trained, regulated and controlled, is almost sure to be- 
 come a violent — perhaps a desperate and a criminal 
 man. One half the deeds of wrong and outrage that 
 occur in private life are the fruits of badly-governed 
 passions. The history of our penitentiaries affords a 
 fearful illustration upon this point. It is bad enough 
 to be peevish and complaining, but it is far worse to 
 be passionate. Man, without the controlling power ot 
 reason and religion, is full of vicious propensities, the 
 
THE PEEVISH AND THE PASSIONATE. 163 
 
 indulgence of which will invariably lead him to error, 
 transgression, disgrace and penalty. 
 
 We wonld not have an individual so perfectly calm 
 and yielding as to become a mere instrument in the 
 hands of another. This would indicate a fearful fall 
 from proper independence and just responsibility. But 
 we should examine carefully, reflect duly, and decide 
 calmly. And after having deliberately formed our 
 opinions, we should express them in a frank, decorous 
 and courteous, but at the same time a manly and de- 
 cided spirit. If they differ, however widely, from 
 those of a friend or neighbor, let us not forget the 
 respect that is due as well to him as to ourselves, and 
 become irritable, excited, and denounce him as a fool 
 or a knave. Nothing of the kind is necessary. An 
 honest difference of opinion need not be a cause of 
 quarrel, no matter what the subject, or however great 
 the stake involved. Be courteous, be generous, be * 
 firm. This is the doctrine, this the policy. Only 
 yesterday we saw two gentlemen meet accidentally in 
 the street and commence conversation. We knew the 
 men, knew that they were of opposite politics, knew 
 one to be mild, the other passionate, and we paused 
 for a moment, with the object of gathering a lesson 
 from life. They had not been together five minutes 
 before the argument deepened in warmth, and the par- 
 ties displayed their peculiar traits of disposition. The 
 mild and courteous was calm, persuasive and resolute, 
 while the passionate was excited, insolent and vindic- 
 tive. He perhaps meant nothing, nothing of an im- 
 proper and insulting nature, and yet his manner as 
 well as his language was most offensive. His face 
 flushed, his voice deepened in tone, and at times 
 10 
 
164 THE PEEVISH AND THE PASSIONATE. 
 
 he seemed almost disposed to back his words by 
 blows : 
 
 " Upon his brow the swelling vein 
 Throbb'd, as if back npon his brain 
 The hot blood ebb'd and flow'd again." 
 
 And yet it was his nature, his untaught nature, his 
 unfortunate habit. He could not help himself; he 
 was the slave of his own passions. He could not see 
 his error, or seeing, did not possess the moral force 
 necessary to its correction. With our gentle friend, 
 there was no danger of a personal collision or conflict. 
 He knew his man, and only smiled and blushed at the 
 storm of the other. And yet it might have been other- 
 wise. Another passionate man might have been the 
 opponent, and then, in all likelihood, words would 
 have been succeeded by blows ; and all, too, with no 
 useful object, and to no useful purpose. It is so easy 
 for one who is disposed to quarrel to find a cause. 
 The merest trifle, a very spark, may influence and 
 madden. We repeat — peevishness is bad enough, 
 but passion is worse. The one may merely annoy, 
 but the other may provoke and insult : the one is 
 often the source of unhappiness, the other that of 
 crime. 
 
kjjttf-trate rob Srankkuragm. 
 
 " Curse the tongue 
 Whence slanderous rumor, like the adder's drop, 
 Distills her venom, withering friendship's faith, 
 Turning love's favor." 
 
 " The ignoble mind 
 Loves ever to assail with secret blow 
 The loftier, purer beings of their kind, * 
 
 WE some days since saw an individual, quite ad- 
 vanced in life, who was busily engaged in run- 
 ning round among his friends and acquaintances, for 
 the purpose of pointing out and commenting upon a 
 slight error that had been committed by a citizen of 
 considerable standing in society. The matter was very 
 trifling, and was so considered by all of moderate and 
 generous views. But, not so the veteran mischief- 
 maker and scandal-monger. He, in the first place, 
 seemed quite excited and delighted that an opportu- 
 nity was afforded of indulging in criticism, fretfulness, 
 and complaint ; and in the second, was eager and anx- 
 ious to magnify a " mote into a mountain," and was 
 moreover quite annoyed because all the world would 
 not agree with him. In one instance he met with a 
 kind-hearted friend, who remonstrated at the unchari- 
 table disposition he manifested, expressed surprise 
 that he should take such a prejudiced and unkind 
 view of the case, and remarked that it was " always the 
 liberal and benevolent policy to overlook or apologize 
 for an error so insignificant, especially as it had been 
 committed without any harsh or base motive." But 
 W (165) 
 
166' MISCHIEF-MAKERS AND SCANDAL-MONGERS^ 
 
 the mischief-maker could not or would not be con- 
 vinced. He was determined to put the worst construc- 
 tion upon human motives and movements — insinuated 
 more than he said — intimated that this " was not the 
 first mishap of the kind," — raked up some by-gone 
 follies, and thus seemed resolved upon staining a 
 character that is deservedly regarded as bright and 
 pure as that of any citizen in the community. We 
 notice the incident as one of a thousand that occur from 
 time to time, of a like nature, and founded upon a 
 similar disposition of malevolence. There are among 
 mankind, too many who seem to take delight in 
 making their fellow-creatures miserable; who either 
 from envy, jealousy or an evil disposition, are never 
 so fully in their element as when they are detailing or 
 exaggerating some piece of misrepresentation or scan- 
 dal, some story calculated to wound the feelings, to 
 blacken the reputation, and to excite suspicion and 
 distrust. No matter how unfounded the allegation, it 
 is all the same to them. They adopt the darkest view 
 in every case, and then deliberately proceed to add still 
 more sombre tints. Their first object in the morning 
 appears to be to discover some novelty in the way of 
 defamation and their next to circulate the story as 
 widely as possible. They never think of the conse- 
 quences to family and friends, or if they do, they are 
 utterly heartless upon the subject. Mischief, scandal, 
 the misery of others, appear to be their delight, and 
 they devote not a little of their time and means to the 
 indulgence of a disposition and propensity truly lam- 
 entable and criminal. They seldom have a good word 
 or a bright portrait for any one. They rarely com- 
 pliment or utter any thing suited to excite a pleasurable 
 
MISCHIEF-MAKERS AND SCANDAL-MONGERS. 167 
 
 emotion. They look upon the world with jealous or 
 jaundiced eyes, and turn with ill-concealed irritation 
 from a picutre of unalloyed happiness. Detail to them 
 a calumny of the most startling character, and calcu 
 lated to involve dozens of individuals in mental agony, 
 and their eyes will dance with joy ! 
 
 This is no fancy sketch. There are, alas ! too many 
 originals of the description that we have here hastily 
 ventured to portray. Mischief-makers and scandal- 
 mongers have been the bane of society for ages. They 
 have been the authors of a fearful amount of human 
 suffering. They have broken many a gentle heart, 
 and prostrated, as by some secret and invisible power, 
 many a strong and vigorous frame. Nothing is so 
 subtle, nothing so malignant as cautious and calculat- 
 ing slander. The calumny does its work before the 
 discovery is made that it is calumny. The victim 
 finds himself distrusted, avoided, and he seeks for the 
 cause in vain. The assassin of character is not a whit 
 less culpable in a moral point of view, than the assassin 
 of life. He strikes at and endeavors to destroy, what 
 indeed is dearer than life. And yet how common is 
 this vice, how great is the propensity to scandal ! How 
 reputation is trifled with, and fair fame imperilled ! 
 How uncharitable are mankind generally. A story is 
 told calculated to injure, and without inquiring for a 
 moment as to the real facts, it passes from lip to lip, 
 gathering strength with every new version, until at 
 last the habitual scandal- monger not only asserts the 
 truth of his own knowledge, but is quite indignant 
 when a doubt is expressed, or a word of generous sym- 
 pathy is interposed. The object appears to be, to 
 trample down and destroy, and he cares not who suffers. 
 
168 MISCHIEF-MAKERS AND SCANDAL-MONGERS. 
 
 It often happens, too, that slight misunderstandings 
 occur among neighbors — misunderstandings which, by 
 mutual forbearance and generous conciliation, could 
 and would be readily adjusted. But the parties, some- 
 times one and sometimes both, become embittered, and 
 thus neighbors and friends are soon converted into 
 slandering monomaniacs, implacable and deadly foes. 
 The spirit of hatred seems to grow with their growth 
 and strengthen with their strength, and they revile 
 and defame with such a constancy and determination, 
 that they annoy all with whom they come in contact. 
 A case of this kind was recently pointed out to us. 
 Two gentlemen were engaged together in a heavy 
 speculation, and jointly purchased a large property. 
 In closing the affair a trifling difficulty occurred, and 
 although they resided within a stone's throw of each 
 other, a coolness, a jealousy, a dislike became apparent 
 between their families. One was somewhat impetuous 
 and violent for a time, but the feeling soon subsided. 
 The other, however, seems to have imbibed a deathless 
 and vindictive hatred — which he apparently communi- 
 cated to all his domestic circle — and thus the old friend 
 is assailed "behind his back," on every occasion and in 
 almost every form. His errors and imperfections — and 
 who is without them ? — are canvassed in the most malig- 
 nant spirit, and he is painted in the most revolting 
 colors. The affair has thus gone on for months and 
 will probably end in a suit to obtain legal redress, or 
 at least an exemption from further malicious assaults 
 of the kind. But, we repeat, the vice of scandal is by 
 far too common. It is a heartless, a wicked propensity. 
 If we cannot say a good word of our neighbors and 
 friends, let us at Lsast keep silent. If we cannot assist 
 
 
THE FOLLY OF CRIME. 169 
 
 and brighten the reputation of those with whom we 
 mingle and associate, let us at least avoid exaggerated 
 stories, falsehood and calumny. The mischief-maker, 
 the cool and deliberate plotter of scandal, is indeed a 
 pest to society ; but the mischief-monger — the indi- 
 vidual who catches up and circulates the fabrications 
 of others, is scarcely less excusable. The result no 
 man can foretell. "We believe that not onhr many a 
 character has been destroyed, but many a life has been 
 sacrificed by a malignant, plausible, and carefully con- 
 cocted slander. 
 
 % Jfdlljj of mm, 
 
 " Be not self-deceived." 
 
 " This, above all, to thine own self be true, 
 And it will follow, as the night the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man." 
 
 " hateful error, melancholy's child ! 
 Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 
 The things that are not ! error soon conceived, 
 Thou never cora'st unto a happy birth, 
 But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee." 
 
 WE believe that if the history of all the leading 
 criminals of our day could be obtained, and if 
 the guilty could be induced to make full confession of 
 their whole course of life, it would be ascertained that 
 the majority were self-deceived — that they foolishly 
 and blindly imagined that they were wiser, more cun- 
 ning, more artful than the rest of mankind, and that 
 
170 THE FOLLY OF CRIME. 
 
 thus they would be able to violate the laws of God 
 and man, and yet escape with impunity. Alas ! how 
 often do men discover their folly when too late. They 
 consult the present rather than the future — the a fleet- 
 ing moments" rather than the " lagging years." They 
 are short-sighted in more senses than one. They see 
 only the facts and circumstances immediately around 
 them. TJfiey fancy that they can deceive the world, 
 and thus they deceive and betray themselves. They 
 forget that an Infinite Power controls human events 
 and human destiny, and therefore when they suppose 
 themselves least suspected and most strongly fortified, 
 they discover that they are exposed, detected, and 
 made to suffer an adequate penalty. 
 
 Our doctrine is, that sooner or later, even in this 
 life, a deliberate wrong — " a cold and calculating vil- 
 lainy," will be avenged ! We believe that a fraud or 
 a falsehood carries with it the elements of its own pen- 
 alty. The perpetrator may triumph for an hour, for 
 a day, or for a year — but, sooner or later, the reaction 
 will come. This is but a law of right and of justice. 
 The history of the world and of human nature is full 
 of illustrations. It sometimes happens that a cautious 
 and subtle villain will, in a worldly sense, be success- 
 ful for a series of years — will amass wealth, attain 
 power, and thus apparently mock at and defy all the 
 ordinary principles of virtue and humanity. But even 
 in such cases, the penalty is often a writhing and burn- 
 ing pang of conscience, a fearful and irresistible appre- 
 hension of coming calamity, a shrinking with horror 
 from a contemplation of the past, or some dreadful do- 
 mestic affliction, some sudden, frightful, perhaps incur- 
 able disease. To be a deliberate villain — to commit 
 
 
THE FOLLY OF CRIME. 171 
 
 crime after crime — to wrong the widow and the orphan 
 — to betray friendship and violate honor — and yet to 
 go through the world calmly and quietly, with peace- 
 ful slumbers at night, and happy thoughts by day, is, 
 we contend, an impossibility. We may escape imme- 
 diate and direct accountability, avoid the law and its 
 meshes, and thus apparently go scot-free. But it is 
 not so. The " still small voice" within will whisper 
 and admonish — the dream by night and the haunting 
 apprehension by day will disturb and annoy — the fear 
 of coming ill, of sudden sickness, of early death, will 
 vex and harrow the soul — and thus life, however seem- 
 ingly prosperous to the out-door world, will become a 
 curse instead of a blessing. The very fruits of our 
 wrong-doing, although they may consist of houses, 
 lands, and stocks, will appear constantly before the 
 excited mind and imagination, as unstable and perish- 
 able, and as likely " to take wings to themselves and 
 flee away." This is no idle picture, no fancy sketch. 
 We may stultify the mind and heart for a time, and close 
 our ears and our consciences from reflection and peni- 
 tence. Nevertheless, ever and anon, the recollection 
 will revive — the tears and the imprecations of th* 
 injured will reappear to our mental eyes, and rinp 
 through our thoughtful ears—and thus, we repeat, we 
 will suffer the penalty even in this life. 
 
 The folly of crime is indeed the veriest madness of 
 our nature. We all realize the fact — all at least, who 
 are not utterly dead to every gentle emotion and moral 
 reflection — that an injury, deliberately inflicted upon 
 another, is certain to react. It will return to us in sor- 
 row and in shame, and unless atoned for amply and 
 justly, some misfortune will be sure to wait upon our 
 
172 THE FOLLY OF CKIME. 
 
 footsteps — some cloud to darken our pathway, soma 
 failure to attend our undertakings. This, we contend, 
 is a doctrine which all who have had experience, will 
 recognize as truth. The beggar in the almshouse, and 
 the felon in the cell will, when brought to a condition 
 of calmness, quiet, and reflection, admit that they were 
 fools when they went astray — that they deceived them- 
 selves when they attempted to deceive others, that 
 penalty followed fast on the footsteps of crime, and 
 that when they fancied themselves the most secure, 
 they were on the very verge of discovery. And at 
 this moment, how many are there, even among the 
 fancied wise, who are engaged in the toils of dishonor, 
 who are striving to supplant a friend, who are intrigu- 
 ing to overthrow a companion — who indulge in the 
 false and fatal doctrine that success will sanctify the 
 means — that power and prosperity for a few years will 
 be better than honor, and fidelity, and integrity for 
 time and for eternity ! How many are there, who plot 
 with subtlety, violate the principles of justice and 
 humanity, and persuade themselves that all is right, if 
 they can only avoid the law, if they can only accom- 
 plish their purpose ! 
 
 But some one, who has discovered the folly of guilt, 
 who, having attained an end, turns back with sorrow 
 and with shame upon the means, may inquire — " What 
 can be done now ? The offence has been committed. 
 It is too late to repair it." 
 
 No, far from it. This is another error of weakness 
 and of vice. " Better late than never." While there 
 is life, there is opportunity. It is never too late to re- 
 pent and repair. Now is the time. Hesitate no longer. 
 The guilt— the perversity— the false pride of years 
 
SUCCESS AND FAILUKE. 173 
 
 may be atoned for in a single day. Enter upon the 
 good work of amendment in the true spirit, and all 
 will be well. The darkness of the past years will 
 speedily disappear, and the edges of the future will 
 brighten with beauty, light, and glory. 
 
 But, alas ! for the impenitent — the self-willed — the 
 hard-hearted — the conscience-tortured, and yet the 
 proud, the unbending, the unatoning — 
 
 " So do the dark in soul expire, 
 Or live like scorpions girt by fire ; 
 So writhes the mind remorse hath riven, 
 Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven- 
 Darkness above, despair beneath, 
 Around it flame, within it death !" 
 
 Sutms into Jailmt .-Cjje €xm\ $tt!bpmt of 
 % Worlff. 
 
 " Deserted in his utmost need 
 By those his former bounty fed." 
 , " Affliction is the good man's shining scene, 
 Prosperity conceals his brightest ray ; 
 As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man." 
 
 WE are often, induced to pause, and turn away 
 with sorrow if not indignation, at the cold 
 selfish and cruel spirit which is generally manifested 
 by mankind, at the downfall of a fellow-creature. Let 
 an individual engage in an enterprise, however wild, 
 hazardous, unjust and immoral — and let eminent suc- 
 cess crown his efforts, and he will immediately find 
 thousands of parasites and eulogists. "The end," 
 
174 SUCCESS AND FAILURE. 
 
 with them, " sanctifies the means." The success renders 
 them forgetful of the immorality, and hence, it so fre- 
 quently happens that a rich man, who may have 
 attained his wealth by a system utterly vile and profli- 
 gate, is regarded by the thoughtless many with far 
 more favor and respect, than a poor man who has 
 toiled all his life in an honest and honorable calling, 
 but who has ever been among the unfortunate in a 
 pecuniary sense. Success is thus made to sanctify 
 vice, and the infamous doctrine is endorsed — "Make 
 money, my son, honestly if you can, but by all means 
 make money !" The worship of Mammon is a pre 
 vailing passion in this country. The desire to attain 
 wealth is so strong, that purity and integrity are often 
 disregarded or lost sight of. How frequently, when 
 a young lady is spoken of as possessing all the quali- 
 fications that are calculated to grace and adorn the 
 female sex, do we hear the question put by some 
 anxious and mercenary inquirer — " Is she ricliV And 
 so again with a gentleman under similar circumstances. 
 The anxiety is not as to worth, virtue, probity and in- 
 telligence, but as to worldly means ! A false system 
 is thus inculcated, and our sons and daughters grow 
 up with the impression that money is the great object, 
 the all-powerful lever; and that with money every 
 thing else will follow. The consequences of such a 
 doctrine are truly deplorable. Society is rendered 
 selfish, corrupt and mercenary — the gentler virtues 
 are overlooked or undervalued, while the nobler im- 
 pulses and principles of our nature, command little re- 
 spect, comparatively speaking. Only a few days since, 
 we were shocked and pained by an expression from 
 the lips of a youth, whose education and sense of pro- 
 
SUCCESS AND FAILURE. 175 
 
 priety should have taught him better. Alluding to 
 an individual, he said — "He is quite wealthy, and 
 therefore highly respectable." But this was possibly 
 the creed inculcated by his mental and moral advisers, 
 and he was unconscious, or appeared to be, of having 
 committed an error. Let us not be misunderstood. 
 The man who by a long life of toil, or who by fair, 
 honorable and successful enterprise becomes enriched, 
 even to the extent of hundreds of thousands, should not 
 be less respected on that account. Far from it. The re- 
 wards of industry are every way honorable. Our 
 children should be directed to such as an example ; 
 and the prudence of such a citizen — his integrity, his 
 activity and his success, should be held up as every 
 way worthy of emulation and imitation. But we 
 mean to say, that if the successful merchant, mechanic 
 or manufacturer have a neighbor every way equal in 
 intelligence, in integrity, and in all that is calculated 
 to brighten and ennoble human nature — and who 
 nevertheless is miserably poor — he— the poor, the just, 
 the good, but unfortunate — is not entitled to less re- 
 spect, to less courtesy, to less consideration, than the 
 rich and the prosperous. On the contrary, because of 
 his misfortunes, we should deal with him more kindly, 
 more generously. We should travel out of the ordi- 
 nary way to manifest our regard and respect for him. 
 We should prove that the man, his character and his 
 principles, are the real objects of esteem and consider- 
 ation, without the slightest reference to his pecuniary 
 condition. 
 
 But, alas! the judgment of the world is seldom thus. 
 The unfortunate are too often slighted and contemned, 
 while the successful are courted, flattered, and fawned 
 
176 SUCCESS AND FAILURE. 
 
 upon. Nay, vice in lace is preferred to virtue in rags. 
 T±Lf profligate, if affluent, are too often sought for; 
 while the honorable and virtuous, if poor, are too often 
 avoided and shunned. How forcible is the remark, 
 that " the judgment of mankind on human actions is 
 too prone to wait on the event of success or disaster in 
 human enterprises." A gallant soldier, if successful, 
 becomes a hero — if unsuccessful, a rebel. A striking 
 instance was recently afforded in the case of Lord 
 Gough. When the British Government and the 
 British people supposed that he had -been defeated by 
 the Sikhs, they attributed to him all kinds of impru- 
 dence ; denounced him as rash, unwise, and precipitate, 
 and immediately supplanted him by appointing General 
 Napier to his place. Soon after intelligence was re- 
 ceived that Lord Gough had been completely victorious, 
 whereupon "a change came over the spirit of the 
 dream." The fortunate officer was eulogized to the 
 skies, the press teemed with his praises, a vote of 
 thanks was submitted in parliament, and new honors 
 were heaped upon him. How forcible the language 
 of the poet in this connection : 
 
 "Rebellion, foul dishonoring word, 
 Whose wrongf ul blight so oft has stain'd 
 The holiest cause, that tongue or sword 
 Of mortal ever lost or gained ! 
 How many a spirit, born to bless, 
 Hath sunk beneath that withering name, 
 Whom but a day's, an hour's success 
 Had wafted to eternal fame.' 
 
 The successful find panegyrists every where —the 
 unfortunate nowhere. The breath of popular app ause 
 is often evanescent, while the anathemas of popular 
 indignation are often unjust. There is no more sub- 
 
SUCCESS AND FAILURE. 177 
 
 lime spectacle than a virtuous man struggling against 
 the billows of adversity. There is no object more en- 
 titled to the sympathy of the truly humane, generous 
 and wise. It requires some nerve, some discrimina- 
 tion, some magnanimity to rally to the rescue of such. 
 Deserted by the crowd, and too often by those who, 
 in the day of sunshine, were friends ; the nobler and 
 better qualities of our nature are fully tested at such 
 a time. It is an easy thing to swim with the current 
 — to mingle with the general voice of censure and 
 complaint. But it is manly, it is noble, it is god-like, 
 to step out from the crowd of the selfish and the 
 hypocritical — to stand by and sustain one without 
 spot or blemish in character, and whose only crime is 
 his poverty, his misfortune. Far better and worthier, 
 far holier in the eye of Heaven, a word of kindness, 
 an expression of sympathy, an act of manly and 
 generous assistance rendered under such circumstances, 
 than all the cringing, fawning compliments that the 
 mean, the servile, and the adulatory are so disposed 
 to lavish at the feet of prosperity and power. 
 
jM-jtaifab; m, portraits from % 
 
 " Oh, would some power the gift gie us 
 To see ourselves as others see us." 
 
 THEKE are few members of the human family who 
 are not more or less self-deceived. In many cases 
 it is well that it is so. It is well to imagine the exist- 
 ence of a condition of contentment, comfort, and hap- 
 piness, even if it should not exist. How rarely, in- 
 deed, do individuals who are frightfully plain or 
 homely really recognize the fact. On the contrary, 
 many who are so circumstanced believe that they are 
 quite models of physical beauty, and contemplate 
 themselves with a degree of vanity and self-compla- 
 cency that makes them perfectly happy. " Where 
 ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." This, although 
 not true in the general sense, is assuredly so in certain 
 cases. Fortunately, perhaps, for many of us, we can- 
 not see ourselves as others see us. The spots on the 
 sun of character are not visible to our eyes. Our very 
 defects of person become so familiar that we lose sight 
 of them, so to speak, and thus they give us no unea- 
 siness or annoyance. Others see them, but we do not, 
 and hence the aphorism we have quoted is pithy and 
 applicable. We have more than once in our rambles 
 met with an individual, apparently thirty years of 
 age, who, although one of the most insignificant and 
 (178) 
 
THE SELF-DECEIVED. 179 
 
 common- place of mortals, obviously fancies himself a 
 perfect Adonis ; and thus with a cane in one hand 
 and a pocket-handkerchief in the other, he may be 
 seen wandering slowly throngh our fashionable prom- 
 enades, ever and anon glancing at his person, evi- 
 dently satisfied with himself, and happy in the con- 
 ceit that he is the envy of the one sex and the 
 admiration of the other. It is a harmless delusion, and 
 it would be cruel to destroy it. Nevertheless, the poor 
 simpleton is sadly self-deceived. But the most uni- 
 versal species of self-deception to which poor mortals 
 are liable, is that which induces them to believe that 
 they can play two characters before their fellow- 
 creatures : in other words, that they can seem to be 
 one thing, and in fact be the very reverse, and yet 
 no one discover it. They delude themselves with the 
 notion that they possess a peculiar intelligence, of 
 which others are deprived ; that they can do certain 
 things privately, secretly, and escape observation. 
 The hypocrite is especially a character of this kind. 
 But he goes further than ordinary men, and endeavors 
 to deceive the Almighty, or at least tries to persuade 
 himself into the belief that a deliberate rascality will 
 be overlooked by the Great Judge of the quick and 
 the dead, if perpetrated under the mask of religion, 
 or with the nominal, but not real object of promoting 
 the welfare of society. It is amusing sometimes to 
 hear individuals address others, as if on some public 
 question, but with selfishness so distinct and palpable, 
 that it seems like an insult to attempt a game of de- 
 ception so transparent. In cases of this kind, how- 
 ever, it is the speaker who is deceived, and not the 
 listener. The former fancies that his words conceal 
 11 
 
180 THE SELF-DECEIVED. 
 
 liis thoughts, when, in fact, the mask is so thin that it 
 is seen through at once. But all are more or less de- 
 ceived at times, and perhaps willingly. It is pleasant 
 to indulge in an agreeable delusion, and therefore we 
 would not have the veil withdrawn and the reality 
 made bare. Better, we argue, to live on thus than be 
 made miserable by discovering the truth. How many 
 men deceive themselves in relation to the real nature 
 of their pecuniary circumstances? They persuade 
 themselves that they are quite rich, when in fact they 
 are the very reverse. But worse, they live in con- 
 formity with the delusion, and thus, step by step, in- 
 volve themselves in wretchedness and ruin. Occa- 
 sionally a glimpse of truth will flash across their 
 minds, but they will repel it with a sort of indigna- 
 tion; and by calculating their effects at twice their 
 real value, they will make a balance-sheet just to suit 
 their purposes. And when, too, things can go on no 
 longer, and the avalanche of debt and responsibility 
 comes rushing down upon them, they are, or assume 
 to be, overwhelmed with astonishment, and cannot 
 discover the cause. They had deceived themselves so 
 long, and with such an extraordinary degree of perti- 
 nacity, that they could scarcely recognize the fact, 
 even in the hour of adversity. But there are others 
 again who are in the other extreme. They can count 
 their fortunes by thousands and tens of thousands, 
 have enough and to spare, yet they labor under the 
 constant apprehension of want. Some calamity seems 
 to impend over them, and thus they toil on year after 
 year, ever saving and accumulating, until at last, re- 
 morseless Death, as if impatient for his prey, strikes 
 them into the grave. There are few of us who do not 
 
THE SELF-DECEIVED. 181 
 
 deceive ourselves into the belief that we are much bet- 
 ter, in a moral sense, than we really are. "We are 
 much more liberal and benevolent in theory than in 
 practice. We manifest the liveliest sympathy for the 
 sufferings of our fellow-creatures in words rather than 
 deeds. We are constantly making mental reservations 
 and promises, but, alas! there the matter too often 
 ends. We are indebted to this friend for a courtesy 
 and to that for a kindness, and we determine to recip- 
 rocate at the first opportunity. But the auspicious 
 moment is permitted to pass by, and the affair is for- 
 gotten. We deceive ourselves daily and hourly. We 
 charge upon others faults and errors that exist only 
 in ourselves, and we discover blemishes and defects 
 without making due allowance for education, asso- 
 ciation, example, and the power of circumstances. 
 In too many cases we decide according to passion, 
 prejudice, and self-interest, and then persuade our- 
 selves that the judgment is based on reason, right, 
 and justice. Who, indeed, is not more or less self- 
 deceived ? Look into your own heart, gentle reader ; 
 investigate your motives, analyze your character, and 
 lay bare your thoughts to the searching eye of con- 
 science, and then admit, atone, amend and reform. 
 " Know thyself," is the apothegm of a celebrated an- 
 cient sage ; and it is a knowledge that too few of us 
 acquire, and practically illustrate and exemplify. 
 11 
 
Qe gri# £to anb |{ grit. 
 
 " All's for the best ! be sanguine and cheerful ; 
 
 Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise ; 
 Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful ; 
 
 Courage forever is happy and wise ; 
 All for the best — if a man could but know it ; 
 
 Providence wishes us all to be blest ; 
 This is no dream of the pundit or poet ; 
 
 Heaven is gracious, and— All's for the best !" 
 
 THEEB are some persons in the world who are 
 never satisfied. They are discontented in spirit, 
 perverse by nature, and gloomy of constitution. The 
 dark side of life always presents itself to them, and 
 they can never see the bright. No matter how buoy- 
 ant the present, how full of enjoyment, and hope, and 
 promise, they are sure to discover some shadow, some 
 cloud in the distance, and to speculate in a tone of de- 
 spondency and discouragement. The world to them 
 has no bright spots, no green and sunny glades, no 
 felicitous associations. Every thing is discolored ac- 
 cording to the moody spirit within. They mingle in 
 the crowd, and criticise, grumble, and complain. They 
 are satisfied neither with themselves nor with any body 
 else. They detect, even in a condition of high health, 
 symptoms of apoplexy, while the slightest cough fore- 
 shadows a consumption. Possibly they cannot help 
 themselves. They labor under a sort of mental dis- 
 ease. They have, perhaps, been disappointed in early 
 life, and the bitterness of that hour lingers with them, 
 and darkens all their future. Unhappy themselves. > 
 (182) 
 
THE BRIGHT SIDE AND THE DARK. 183 
 
 they seem anxious to make all others unhappy. 
 Nothing goes well with them. They have always 
 something to complain of. A shadow seems to rest 
 upon their path and their prospects, and they live on, 
 shiver, and complain, amid its coldness and gloom. 
 They have no sympathy with any thing that is not 
 miserable. The laugh, of a child annoys them. The 
 playful remark of a friend irritates. A jest is regarded 
 as an insult ; and thus they wander through the world, 
 wretched themselves, and striving all they can to make 
 others wretched. What an unhappy condition is this 1 
 How unenviable ! How little calculated to soften the 
 sorrows of the desolate and despairing, or to adminis- 
 ter to the wants of the indigent and afflicted ! Fortu- 
 nately these monomaniacs are comparatively few. 
 There are many happy contrasts — many buoyant and 
 bounding spirits, who go forward cheerfully in storm 
 and in sunshine, who pay little attentiou to the re- 
 verses of the hour, and who, if compelled to contem- 
 plate the dark side of life, do so with reluctance, and 
 in any but a desponding spirit. The cheerful-hearted 
 are the jewels of society. They impart courage and 
 confidence wherever they appear. Their sympathy is 
 at once catching and consoling, and thus wherever 
 they move they exercise a salutary influence. It is 
 better at all times, if possible, to look on the bright side 
 of the picture. Let us exert ourselves to the utmost, 
 and we shall have difficulty enough in passing through 
 this working-day world. But if we give way to de- 
 spondency, if we yield our energy and strength before 
 the first whirlwind of misfortune, we shall soon dis- 
 cover that we have made a sad calculation. Life is 
 made up of sunshine and shadow. None can expect 
 
184 THE BRIGHT SIDE AND THE DARK. 
 
 exemption from trial and vicissitude, and when these 
 misfortunes come, they should be encountered with a 
 brave spirit, and a determination to deserve better for 
 the future. We can conceive of no more noble-hearted 
 being, than the individual who goes about encourag- 
 ing and consoling, who has a good word on all occa- 
 sions, and who endeavors not only to render his own 
 pathway as bright and as cheerful as possible, but to 
 inspire confidence, hope, and courage in the minds and 
 hearts of others. However dark the day may be, he 
 sees sunshine in the morrow. Whatever misfortunes 
 may surround the present, he encourages the sufferer 
 to wrestle in a manly spirit, satisfied that a better and 
 brighter season is at hand. He sympathizes with the 
 afflicted, and at the same time whispers words of hope. 
 The calamity is serious, he admits, " but it might have 
 been worse." And then, he argues, " adversity has 
 its uses." He shows how poor a dependence man may 
 have upon himself, and how necessary is the leliance 
 upon Providence. He ever encourages the doctrine 
 of " time, faith, and energy." He cites similar cases, 
 and shows that the gloom is likely to prove but tem- 
 porary, and that change and prosperity will soon come. 
 How much better this than the spirit of the croaker! 
 Who that has experienced misfortune, does not remem- 
 ber with delight, the words of sympathy, the looks of 
 encouragement, and the voice of friendship I There 
 is scarcely an individual, however prosperous his con- 
 dition, who has not his moments of ennui and gloom. 
 Trifles disturb and make him wretched. His mind is 
 haunted by some strange misgiving, some fearful ap- 
 prehension. He cannot describe the why or the where- 
 fore, and yet it is so. Let him at such a moment, 
 
THE BRIGHT SIDE AND THE DARK. 185 
 
 encounter one of a moody and desponding nature, 
 such as we have alluded to, and he will almost be 
 driven mad. His petty grievances will be magnified 
 into* incurable calamities, and his mind will be horri- 
 fied by vague forebodings and monstrous apprehen- 
 sions. On the other hand, let the cheerful of heart 
 and the benevolent of spirit commune and converse 
 with him, and the shadows of his mind will flit away 
 like the morning clouds before the rising sun. Com- 
 mend us, then, on all occasions, to the philanthropist 
 and the philosopher, who seeing life as it is, admits its 
 clouds and darkness, its error and misfortune, but who 
 is always disposed to look at the bright as well as the 
 dark side, and to point out the sunny and smiling fea- 
 tures of the prospect, rather than to dwell moodily 
 upon the sombre and the shadowy, the rocks, shoals, 
 and quicksands! 
 
 " All's for the best ! set this on your standard, 
 
 Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love, 
 Who to the shores of Despair may have wandered, 
 
 A way-wearied swallow, or heart-stricken dove ; 
 All for the best !— be a man bnt confiding, 
 
 Providence tenderly governs the rest, 
 And the frail bark of His creature is guidinf , 
 
 Wisely and warily, all for the best." 
 
f% Splits rf Umbiitg #ntV <©fon $ismts& 
 
 " wad some power the giftie gie us, 
 To see ourselves as others see us." 
 
 IT is curious to observe the disposition that prevails 
 with many people to interfere with the business of 
 their neighbors, and to neglect their own. They are 
 always on the look-out for something new, some fresh 
 piece of scandal, some misrepresentation or calumny, 
 and really glow with delight when they are able to in- 
 dulge their peculiar propensity. There are in every 
 large community, individuals who for years have been 
 busily engaged, day in and day out, in hunting up the 
 shortcomings of their fellow- creatures, and spreading 
 the details before the world in as vivid language as 
 possible. The idea of attending to their own business 
 never seems to strike them. Their own follies and 
 frailties are scarcely noticed at all, and are regarded as 
 of no account whatever. But let another take a false 
 step, or let any member of a neighboring family com- 
 mit an oversight or an error, and the fact is caught up 
 with eagerness, is retailed from door to door, and how- 
 ever trifling, it is magnified into a grave and serious 
 affair. In the great multitude of cases, the successful 
 in life are those who attend to their own business, while 
 the reverse is exactly the case with the intermeddlers, 
 the scandal-mongers, the curiosity-hunters, the mischief- 
 makers, and the Paul Prys generally of the hour. And 
 how can it be otherwise ? How can a man watch his* 
 own affairs thoroughly and properly — how can he at- 
 (186) 
 
MINDING ONE'S OWN BUSINESS. 187 
 
 tend to his own business, fulfil his engagements, and 
 discharge his duties, if he be engaged four- fifths of his 
 time with the affairs of other people ? The idlers to 
 be found at the corners of streets, the loungers of bar- 
 rooms, and all the numerous class of do nothings who 
 constitute such a pest to society, are for the most part 
 to be ranked among the intermeddlers of the time, who 
 are on the qui vive for something new and racy, some- 
 thing calculated to injure this man's credit, or to 
 wound that man's character, something that has merely 
 the shadow of truth by way of foundation, but may be 
 exaggerated by distortion and perversion, into the 
 serious, painful and discreditable. If the good old 
 system of minding one's own business, could only be 
 recognized and practiced universally, the wheels of so- 
 ciety would roll along much more smoothly, there 
 would be less unkindness and ill-will in the world, and 
 far more comfort, courtesy, true social enjoyment, and 
 genuine contentment and happiness. "We are told that 
 this country is peculiarly addicted to the infirmity of 
 idle curiosity. As a people, we seem to be remark- 
 ably meddlesome. The affairs of our neighbors- are 
 watched with singular vigilance, and their modes of 
 dress, their style of living, their revenue, the very food 
 they eat, are constant subjects of comment and criti- 
 cism. This is the case, not only in the large cities, 
 but in the small towns. It thus becomes necessary to 
 live, not as one could wish, not as seems best suited to 
 one's family and circumstances, not in conformity with 
 true economy and self- independence, but so as to har- 
 monize with the views or to escape the animadver- 
 sions of the critics and lookers-on outside. And hence 
 it is that so many live for others and to satisfy the judg- 
 
188 MINDING ONE'S OWN BUSINESS. 
 
 ivn 
 
 ment of others, and not in conformity with their own 
 views, and for the gratification of their own wishes 
 Nay, there are thousands who have gone deliberately 
 to ruin, who have sacrificed themselves in fact, rather 
 than be subjected to the severe remarks of the curious, 
 and prying and intermeddling. In other words, they 
 have lived beyond their means, and simply with the 
 object of satisfying the many who neglect their own 
 business for the purpose of watching over, analyzing 
 and speculating upon the affairs of others. In some 
 cases, this nuisance of prying, retailing and falsifying, 
 becomes intolerable, and the sensitive and diffident are 
 absolutely made miserable thereby. Doubtless some 
 of oui readers could furnish forcible illustrations. 
 Nothing is more annoying than a consciousness that 
 some idle and malicious individual is constantly on the 
 look-out for an opportunity to misrepresent and ca- 
 lumniate — that his disposition is one of animosity and 
 malevolence combined, and that in consequence of 
 some morbid perversion of the moral nature, the anxi- 
 ety and unhappiness of another constitute a source of 
 satisfaction to such a specimen of the intermeddling, 
 the suspicious, and the malignant. How often does it 
 happen that three or four individuals are engaged to- 
 gether in confidential conversation, when another 
 makes his appearance, listens against all rules of pro- 
 priety and gentlemanly breeding, catches up a word 
 here and there, and then hastens elsewhere to repeat 
 and distort. It is the easiest thing in the world to find 
 flaws in the human character. No mortal man is per- 
 fect. There are few individuals without their infirm- 
 ities, and there are few families without some painful 
 associations, some erring member, or some unfortunate 
 
THE GRUMBLER. 189 
 
 connection. But it is a part of duty, of courtesy, and 
 of brotherly good-will, to overlook and avoid all allu- 
 sion to such sad features or circumstances. Or, if com- 
 pelled to advert to them, to do so in a spirit of for- 
 bearance, generosity and magnanimity. Not so, how- 
 ever, the intermeddler. His disposition is to make bad 
 worse, to exaggerate follies into crimes, to carry dis- 
 cord into families that were before tranquil and happy, 
 to hunt out forgotten errors and frailties, and recapitu- 
 late them in Strong- language — in short, to become a 
 pest, a nuisance and a curse to social life. The penalty 
 too is fearful for himself. He is certain to be despised 
 and contemned, to be disliked and avoided. His own 
 affairs will infallibly go behindhand, and his presence 
 be avoided like that of a moral pestilence. 
 
 " The faults of others he could well discern, 
 Bat not his own." 
 
 HAS the reader never been annoyed by the almost 
 perpetual mutterings, fault-findings, forebodings 
 and complaints of a confirmed grumbler — one who 
 appears to have Argus eyes for the errors and imper- 
 fections of others — but who can never discover or ap- 
 preciate any merits or accomplishments? If the 
 answer be in the negative, we beg leave to offer our 
 congratulations. We can conceive of no greater pest 
 of society, no more incorrigible bore, no more abomin- 
 
190 THE GRUMBLER. 
 
 able nuisance, than a constitutional and habitual 
 grumbler — one who goes about picking flaws in char- 
 acter, taking exception to this opinion or to that, 
 always dissatisfied, never comfortable himself, and 
 ever disposed to mar the happiness of others. The 
 weather is either too hot or too cold, the wind too 
 high or too low, business too brisk or too dull, while 
 nothing within the range of human vision is exactly 
 as it should be or as it might be. A gloom seems to 
 have settled upon the mind of the wretched grumbler, 
 and thus he sees and views every thing through a 
 hazy medium. The success of a friend, instead of 
 being a matter of rejoicing, is distorted into some 
 perilous piece of misfortune, while some sad prediction 
 is made as to the deplorable effects in the future. The 
 grumbler, moreover, while ever eager and ready to 
 depreciate the efforts of others, is rarely able to equal 
 those efforts himself. It is this very consciousness in 
 some cases, that induces him to criticize and complain. 
 He cannot attain the same degree of skill and per- 
 fection, and hence he endeavors to underrate the 
 faculty in others. To rind fault is the easiest thing in 
 the world; although the quality is most unamiable. 
 There are many persons, indeed, who can do little 
 else. They go through the world as grumblers. In- 
 doors or out, it is the same. They seem to have no 
 faculty for appreciation. The kindest act will be ex- 
 cepted to. Their best friends will be found fault with. 
 No matter how successful in business, they will still 
 mutter and evince dissatisfaction. They are not only 
 unhappy themselves, but they strive to make all un- 
 happy who are dependent upon or live within their in- 
 fluence. They get up in the morning, and commence 
 
THE GRUMBLER. 191 
 
 grumbling, and they continue the annoyance through- 
 out the day. Serve them however honestly and faith- 
 fully, and they will nevertheless manifest discontent. 
 The infirmity is not only unfortunate, but it is vicious. 
 The true philosophy of life is to render the path be- 
 fore us as smooth and easy as possible, and at the 
 same time, to contribute all in our power to the com- 
 fort, convenience and prosperity of others. Above all 
 things, we should manifest a proper sense of kindness 
 and appreciation. We should do unto others as we 
 would they should do unto us. What can be more 
 ungracious or more ungrateful than coldness or com- 
 plaint, on the part of an individual whose fortunes we 
 have endeavored to promote, or whose position we 
 have exerted our best energies to assist and elevate ? 
 The effect, too, must be chilling and depressing. If, 
 we are apt to argue, our kindness is misunderstood or 
 misap predated, we should, perhaps, be more careful 
 for the future. But, we repeat, the grumbler can 
 never be satisfied. Nay, we could single out a case, 
 in which an individual of this class is so noted for his 
 propensity, that all who know him, expect on his ap- 
 proach to hear him utter some ill-natured remark, to 
 chronicle some misfortune, or to mutter some com- 
 plaint. He is either sour, cross, or bitter by nature, 
 or he has permitted the habit of grumbling so to grow 
 upon him, that he cannot help himself. The disease 
 has become chronic, so to speak. It forms part and 
 parcel of his character. A kind word from his lips 
 would be a novelty — a pleasant smile upon his counte- 
 nance, a rare emanation — a cordial grasp of his hand, 
 something altogether extraordinary. In what broad 
 and happy contrast is the cheerful and contented — 
 
192 THE GRUMBLER. 
 
 the individual whose heart is a perpetual fountain of 
 sunshine and good humor, who is ever ready to say a 
 kind thing, or to do a good turn, and who avoids 
 every thing that is harsh, malevolent, or calculated to 
 wound. The one is a source of constant misery — 
 the other of constant pleasure. The one brightens 
 and cheers the pathway of life, the other darkens and 
 depresses. The one is ever welcome, the other is ex- 
 actly the reverse. The one goes through the world 
 appreciating and appreciated, pouring balm into the 
 wounds of the afflicted, and giving hope and courage 
 to the timid, the unfortunate and the despairing, while 
 the other seems to delight in making bad worse, and 
 in extinguishing by some melancholy foreboding, or, 
 distorted and gloomy view, every thing like hope, im- 
 provement or prosperity. The deathbed of the grumbler 
 must be a scene of misery and apprehension. The 
 shadows that have flitted across", and darkened his 
 footsteps through life, must assume a deeper hue as he 
 is about to shuffle off this mortal coil. The cup of 
 misery that he has prepared for others, cannot but 
 seem about to be applied to his own lips. He can 
 have no joyous recollection of favors rendered, hearts 
 gladdened and homes made happy through his influ- 
 ence, but bitterness and penitence and remorse must 
 surround his dying couch. Life has been to him a 
 protracted grumble, and it will expire in an agonized 
 groan. The cheerful spirit, on the other hand — the 
 benevolent, the generous and the appreciating — will, 
 as the evening of the last day comes on, find many 
 happy visions flitting through his mind — visions of 
 kind things said and good things done; visions of 
 buoyant hearts and joyous voices and happy faces 
 
THE OVERTASKED. 193 
 
 and these will not only take away from the bitterness 
 of death, but they will animate and nerve the soul in 
 its onward flight to the upward regions of eternity. 
 The good that we do here will not only live with us, 
 and accompany us to the portals of the grave, but it 
 will there plume the wings of the spirit, and convey 
 us in hope and in faith to the regions of the blessed. 
 His is the desirable fate who, as the things of this 
 world fade upon his mortal vision, feels the happy 
 consciousness of having contributed to the utmost of 
 his ability to the social, moral, rational, and religious 
 enjoyment of his friends, his family, and his fellow- 
 creatures, — who, in brief, is confident and conscious 
 that he has appreciated the kindness of others, and 
 has never committed the injustice of complaint with- 
 out sufficient cause. 
 
 %\t (Bfortasfetfc; or, % Utoral Sracik 
 
 " Life ill preserved, is worse than basely lost." 
 
 WE have often thought that if a careful and philo- 
 sophical examination could be made of the 
 bills of mortality, it would be found that a large num- 
 ber of those who are chronicled as having died of the 
 ordinary diseases to which human flesh is heir, were, 
 in fact, directly or indirectly, moral suicides. In other 
 words, they knew that they were sinking — they felt 
 that the energy and strength of the physical frame were 
 departing — they were satisfied that they needed re- 
 
194 THE OVEKT ASKED. 
 
 pose, relaxation, and a chance to recuperate ; and yet, 
 so wedded were they to " the things of this world," so 
 yearning and restless was their desire for gain, that 
 they could not take time to pause and rest on the high- 
 way of toil, and only discovered when too late, that 
 the sources of human existence were impoverished, 
 that the cords of life were irreparably broken ! They 
 overtasked their powers, overworked their energies, 
 physical and mental, struggled on day after day, and 
 month after month, even against the appeals of their 
 better reason, and at last were compelled to repair to 
 the couch of sickness, unnerved, unmanned, disabled, 
 never to rise again. This is the case with hundreds 
 who have " enough and to spare," who have been suc- 
 cessful in a worldly sense, but who commit three great 
 mistakes : First, the error of procrastination. They 
 feel the need of rest, repose, and relaxation, but they 
 postpone until to-morrow, and to-morrow, forgetful or 
 unmindful of the constant decay of nature, and of the 
 slow but certain exhaustion of the human powers. In 
 the second place, they cannot realize the idea, that they 
 have " enough." With every fresh accumulation, the 
 desire strengthens for " a little more." Their wishes 
 are not bounded by moderation and contentment, but 
 they become, even unconsciously to themselves, grasp- 
 ing, ambitious, and avaricious. In the third place, 
 they deem " all men mortal but themselves ;" and thus 
 they do not contemplate as they should, " the inevi- 
 table hour," when they will be called upon to pay 
 "Nature's last great debt." Ever and anon, too, they 
 are admonished, either by sickness, or death in their 
 very midst, by a sudden summons given to the strong 
 and apparently long-lived, or by the passing away of 
 
 
THE OVEKTASKED. 195 
 
 those who are stricken in years. But they are so ab- 
 sorbed in the things of this life, so devoted to the one 
 great object of accumulation, that they can scarcely 
 devote a sufficient season to the ordinary observances 
 of grief, when a member of the family circle, a near 
 and dear relative is taken away, but apparently impa- 
 tient at this interference with, and interruption of their 
 ordinary pursuits, they chafe, become fretful, and rush 
 on with more impatience than ever, as if to make up 
 for lost time. Is not this a faithful picture ? Are 
 there not many within the limits of a great city like 
 this, who at the present moment are absolutely hasten- 
 ing their footsteps to the grave, and thus committing 
 -moral suicide, — who either forget the frailty and falli- 
 bility of human nature, or who, so devoted to objects 
 merely pecuniary, lose all proper consideration of 
 every other matter, to the sacrifice of the priceless 
 blessing of health, and to the shortening of human 
 life ? A striking case passed under our observation a 
 few years since. An active and indefatigable young 
 merchant was engaged in a particular line of business, 
 which although highly profitable, tasked his mental 
 and physical energies to the utmost. His health was 
 feeble, and always had been, and of this he was fully 
 aware. He was rapidly accumulating a fortune ; nay, 
 at the age of thirty, had realized a hundred thousand 
 dollars. His business increased and was increasing, 
 his profits were every year becoming larger, and the 
 temptation was indeed strong. But with this increase 
 of wealth came also an increase of effort. The strain 
 upon his mind was immense. At times he repaired 
 to his home, exhausted, weary, and faint. He felt that 
 he needed relaxation, and was so advised by his friends 
 12 
 
196 THE OVERTASKED. 
 
 and physicians. Nevertheless the golden phantom 
 fascinated and bewildered, and the charm of accumu- 
 lating thousands was irresistible. And thus he post- 
 poned the season of repose and the means of remedy 
 from time to time, until at last, and before he had reached 
 his thirty-fifth year, he was seized with an illness that 
 soon attacked his lungs, and after lingering for 
 months, and resorting to every possible remedy, he fell 
 a martyr to his devotion to business ! And there are 
 hundreds such at this moment, in every leading me- 
 tropolis of the Union. The great mistake is, that men 
 either overestimate or overtask their strength. The 
 consequences, in a great majority of cases, are prostra- 
 tion, disease, and death. The human machine is capa- 
 ble of only certain exertions. The human mind and 
 the human body have their limits. Both may be over- 
 worked, both over-excited, both exhausted and pros- 
 trated. Employers should remember these truths, and 
 govern themselves accordingly. There is a season for 
 all things, and the faithful who labor day in and day 
 out, in the workshop, in the factory, in the counting- 
 room, or in any other position or capacity, should be 
 regarded and treated, not like beasts of burden, or 
 with less consideration than the kind-hearted drayman 
 treats his horse, but in a spirit at once kindly, humane, 
 sympathetic, and appreciating. Life has its various 
 positions, duties, and responsibilities, and just in the 
 degree that we manifest liberality, confidence, kind- 
 ness, and respect toward those who look up to and 
 depend upon us, — those who, employed by, serve us 
 faithfully— so may we claim the exercise of the like 
 qualities from others, and anticipate an immortal re 
 muneration in the world to come. 
 

 9f\t <%nn cf Pnmtr; or, fa, §xm, 
 
 " To move with easy though with measured pace, 
 And show no part of study but the grace." 
 
 " So gently blending courtesy and art, 
 That wisdom's lips seem formed of friendship's heart.' 
 
 THEEE is nothing so well calculated to touch and 
 win as a graceful manner. It serves to embellish 
 and beautify the outward man, and in some degree to 
 adorn and dignify not only the social but the intel- 
 lectual character. What polish is to the diamond 
 manner is to the individual. It heightens the value 
 and the charm. One of easy manner, always quiet, 
 graceful and self-possessed — always bland, courteous 
 and captivating, cannot fail to secure friends, and 
 make a favorable impression. "What indeed is more 
 delightful in youth than a manner which at once 
 acknowledges respect for age, indicates modesty and 
 discretion, and at the same time is free from the awk- 
 ward and uncouth air which too often defaces and dis- 
 figures. A polished manner is essential to every true 
 gentleman. He must not only understand and be 
 able to govern himself, but he must appreciate the 
 feelings, the circumstances and the position of others. 
 It is, moreover, quite an easy task to be affable and 
 courteous when once the habit is permitted to grow, 
 and thus become identified with character. In the 
 course of an Address that was recently delivered at 
 !2 (197) 
 
jl98 the charm of manner. 
 
 the Anniversary of the State Normal School at Al- 
 bany, Dr. Horatio Potter contended that manner should 
 be a leading feature in education. He described it as 
 ,he " outward expression of the mind, not merely of 
 its knowledge or strength of reason, but of the degree 
 to which it has been softened and humanized by cul- 
 ture, and of the point which it occupied in the scale 
 between barbarism and perfect civilization." And 
 this is emphatically true. How often are we carried 
 away by the force of first impressions! A single look 
 will sometimes linger in the soul for years. "We may 
 have heard of an individual again and again, have be- 
 come familiar with his heart and character, by letter 
 or through the representations of others, and have 
 thus formed a sort of friendship or attachment, - and 
 yet much of this may be dissipated at a single inter- 
 view, through the influence of an awkward, mal- 
 apropos, uneasy and ungraceful manner. Who cannot 
 point out some young gentleman of his acquaintance 
 who is perpetually blundering into difficulties, dilem- 
 mas, and awkward predicaments, simply in conse- 
 quence of an abrupt, brusque, uncouth and inelegant 
 manner! He can neither stand at ease, walk with 
 grace, nor speak with elegance ; and this, too, despite 
 the fact that his heart may be good, his mind may be 
 well informed, and his acquaintance with the world 
 may be comparatively extensive. It is either his mis- 
 fortune or his fault to be awkward in manner, and 
 this will often prove a stumbling block in life, and 
 especially among the fair daughters of Eve, who, in 
 such matters, are so observing, so critical, and so 
 satirical. These latter qualities are, we are aware, 
 unjust and ungenerous under the circumstances, for 
 
 
THE CHAKM OF MANNEK. 11 J 
 
 some of the noblest hearts that ever animated the 
 human frame are to be found within awkward forms 
 and associated with ungainly figures. Better to have 
 the principle than the manner — better the heart within 
 than the form without. Nevertheless, both are desira- 
 ble, and hence we argue in favor of a manner that 
 combines ease, grace, courtesy and self-possession — one 
 that not only wins respect but that pays it — one that 
 expresses by its every movement a proper apprecia- 
 tion for the taste, the feelings, and even the prejudices 
 and passions of others. Who, for example, that is 
 properly cultivated, can admire the coarse, the rude, 
 and the violent — the blustering, the insolent, the reck- 
 less and the bold ? The manner is in some sense the 
 mirror of the mind. It pictures and represents the 
 thoughts and emotions within. It indicates not only 
 the condition of the intellect, but the spirit of courtesy 
 and propriety. u It is," says Dr. Potter, " through the 
 manner, more than in almost any other way, that we 
 continually impress and influence, favorably or un- 
 favorably, those who are about us. We cannot always 
 be speaking; we cannot always be engaged in ex- 
 pressive action. But even when we are silent, even 
 when we are not in action, there is something in our 
 air and manner which expresses what is elevated or 
 what is low, what is human and benignant, or what is 
 coarse and harsh." Let us not be misunderstood. 
 We would not have society cold, formal or artificial. 
 We would not check or restrain the gushings of a 
 guileless heart, or the overflowings of a joyous spirit. 
 Still there is a wide difference between the boisterous 
 and the frank, between the affected and the genial, 
 between the heart that is cultivated and softened by 
 
200 THE CHAKM OF MANNER. 
 
 education, and the rough nature that exults because it 
 is rough. Affectation moreover should be carefully 
 guarded against. It is an error of little minds. It is 
 a weakness rather than a polish; and yet it is too 
 often mistaken by those who indulge in it for the lat- 
 ter. The charm of manner consists in its simplicity, 
 its ease and its grace. It not only becomes, but it 
 adorns. It not only beautifies, but it subdues and 
 wins. Take two persons, for example, who are equal 
 in other respects. Let them be of similar positions in 
 life — equal in fortune, equal in good looks, and like 
 in disposition. But let them differ broadly and dis- 
 tinctly in manner, and the contrast will strike every 
 beholder. There are, indeed, many who cannot enter 
 a room, where half a dozen individuals, male and 
 female, are assembled — without displaying some awk- 
 wardness, perpetrating some blunder, or uttering some 
 mistimed remark. The difficulty with most of such 
 is, that they cannot command or control themselves 
 They become excited and confused, and this excite- 
 ment of the mind extends to the manner and the 
 tongue, and induces them very often to render them- 
 selves ridiculous. Once in such a dilemma, they go 
 on from bad to worse, and in an effort to escape, they 
 only get themselves the more involved. How im- 
 portant then, the study of manner ! And yet it is 
 neglected, almost universally, while some of our 
 teachers are themselves any thing but models in this 
 respect. The idea of ease and grace in personal de- 
 portment, seems never to have entered their minds. 
 They forget that the first impression is often made 
 through the eye, and hence an awkward boy may be 
 ruined, before he has an opportunity to display his 
 
SPRING AND YOUTH. 201 
 
 mental qualities. According to an old aphorism, 
 11 manner maketh the man." We are not disposed to 
 go so far, but it is quite certain, nevertheless, that an 
 easy, graceful, polished manner, has often been the 
 pioneer to position, power, and fortune. 
 
 Spring anb § 0ui|--Cjrar Bttim aittr 
 %motmfans. 
 
 " Buds are filling, leaves are swelling, 
 Flowers on field and bloom on tree ; 
 O'er the earth, and air, and ocean, 
 Nature holds her jubilee." 
 t 
 
 THE spring-time of the year and the spring-time of 
 life have many resemblances. The one is to a 
 certain extent emblematic of the other. The budding 
 flower and the budding form — how fresh, rosy, and 
 redolent of all that is fragrant and lovely I What is 
 more joyous, careless and beautiful than childhood. 
 How in the morning of life, t^e present alone is recog- 
 nized and appreciated, and the bounding school-boy 
 hurries home, his daily lessons conned and his task of 
 toil completed, utterly regardless of the morrow, and 
 the coming cares of the future ! The world to him is 
 bounded within narrow limits. He has few wishes, 
 few desires, few objects of pursuit, and fewer anxieties. 
 The rosy light of hope kindles in his eye, and adorns 
 and brightens all that that eye rests upon. A well- 
 spring of pleasure gushes from his heart, and thus the 
 
202 SPRING AND YOUTH. 
 
 morning hours of life, like the sunny scenes of spring, 
 glide pleasantly and rapidly away. And so, step by 
 step, until he attains the years of manhood ; and even 
 then it often happens, that the buoyant spirit still lives 
 and lingers, and the world, its chances and its changes, 
 are regarded in a cheerful rather than a desponding 
 spirit ; and pleasure is sought in a thousand fairy but 
 sometimes deceptive retreats. It is well that it is so. 
 The ways of Providence are full of mystery and wis- 
 dom. Better that the future of this world, the many 
 and the varied scenes of life, should be concealed from 
 us by an impenetrable curtain, especially in the golden 
 hours of youth. It is proper, too, that that happy 
 season should be enjoyed. Care, and pain and anxiety 
 will come soon enough, and should not therefore be 
 anticipated. The spring-time of the year has just 
 commenced. The fields are already green, and soon 
 the buds will burst and the flowers will bloom. The 
 woods are vocal with the songs of birds, and the air is 
 balmy with the rich breath of nature. 
 
 " O'er the moisten'd fields 
 A tender green is spread ; the hladed grass 
 Shoots forth exuberant: th' awaking trees, 
 Thaw'd by the delicate atmosphere, put forth 
 Expanding buds ; while with mellifluous throat, 
 The warm ebullience of internal joy, 
 The birds hymn forth a song of gratitude 
 To Him who shelter'd when the storms were deep, 
 And fed them through the winter's cheerless gloom." 
 
 But how many who live in crowded cities, who are 
 penned up, as it were, within brick walls, have no 
 adequate idea of running streams, teeming gardens, 
 grassy valleys, and the many other tempting scenes 
 of this delightful season of the year ! How few wander 
 
SPRING AND YOUTH. 203 
 
 forth to commune with nature, and to direct their 
 thoughts to the Great Architect of the Universe, whose 
 hand bends the gorgeous bow and paints the tiny 
 flower ! And yet it is well to go abroad occasionally, 
 to forget for awhile the busy haunts of men, and to 
 revel in contemplation among the quiet scenes and the 
 touching sights of nature. With man there is but 
 one spring. Childhood and youth, once departed, 
 never return. The flowers of life, once withered, can- 
 not be revived, and made to glow and flush again 
 with their early tints, and give forth their morning 
 sweets. Not at least in this world. But Nature 
 teaches us in the return of the seasons, and in the 
 renovation of all her works, that the apparently dead 
 may be quickened with new life. And so the mortal 
 may become immortal. The perishing here may be- 
 come eternal hereafter. 
 
 The thoughtless are apt to regard the changes in 
 the seasons with apathy and indifference. Nevertheless 
 life has its changes as certain and as unerriug. Man 
 has his spring, his summer, his autumn, and his 
 winter. But these are not so palpable, because the 
 progress is less rapid, and all are so thoroughly de- 
 voted to the pursuits of the world, that few have the 
 time to pause, reflect and contemplate the prospect. 
 Nay, there are some who delude themselves with the 
 belief that the winter of age and of death will never 
 come, or at least they act if such were the impression. 
 Alas ! for the folly, and yet how widely it prevails 
 Year after year glides by, and each record of its de- 
 parture only brings us nearer to the grave. And yet 
 how many shrink from the fact, and not only shrink 
 from it, but avoid its obligations and responsibilities. 
 
204 SPRING AND YOUTH. 
 
 The spring-time of the year and the spring-time of life 
 are, or should be, joyous and happy seasons ! 
 
 All whose eyes rest on these lines may not realize 
 both, but there are few who may wander abroad when 
 "the leaf is in the bud and the bud is on the bough," 
 without feeling the influence of the season in every 
 vein, without enjoying the spirit of Nature, if we may 
 so express it, without reflecting upon the wonderful 
 process, by which the earth is made to yield forth its 
 many fruits for the use of man, — without casting the 
 eye and the mind upward, with a sense of gratitude 
 and of awe, at the inconceivable wisdom, skill and 
 power of Providence. A ramble in the fields, and 
 through the woods, or a clamber up the mountain side 
 at this budding and gushing season of the year, cannot 
 but prove healthful, as well for the mind as the body. 
 " God made the country, but man made the town ;" 
 and if we look only to the workmanship of man, we 
 shall be apt to forget the mighty wonders of the 
 Universe, and the countless mysteries of the great 
 Creator. On the one hand, all is bustle, life, activity, 
 and the pursuit of mammon. Each individual jostles 
 against his neighbor, and seems to have no idea, no 
 object, but the gain, the position, and the power of this 
 earth. On the other, nature is outspread in many a 
 tempting form, and hill, and rock, and tree, and valley 
 enchant the eye, refresh the mind, and lead to thought- 
 ful and salutary reflections. How many who were 
 here last Spring will never see another on this earth ! 
 They have gone like the early flowers ; but may we 
 not hope that they will revive in another sphere, and 
 wander through fields and amid scenes that are not 
 only bright and glorious, but everlasting ! 
 
SUICIDE. 205 
 
 •Look Nature through ; 'tis revolution all, 
 All change— no death. Day follows night, and night 
 The dying day. Stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
 Earth takes the example. See, the Summer, gay 
 With her green chaplets and amhrosial flowers, 
 Droops into pallid Autumn ; Winter gray, 
 Horrid with frost, and turhulent with storm, 
 Blows Autumn with his golden fruits away — 
 Then melts into the Spring ; 6oft Spring, with breath 
 Favonian, from warm chambers of the South, 
 Recalls the first. All, to reflourish, fades ! 
 As in a wheel, all seeks to reascend, 
 Emblems of man, who passes, not expires I " 
 
 
 j$mdk-®Je §nta Uttwjrant 
 
 " Teach me my days to number, and apply 
 My trembling heart to wisdom." — Young. 
 
 THE frequency of suicide is exciting more than or- 
 dinary attention. Scarcely a day goes by that 
 some fatal catastrophe of the kind is not recorded. In 
 some cases love, in others jealousy, in others poverty, 
 and in others intemperance is designated as the cause. 
 A day or two since we noticed a statement in a New 
 York paper, to the effect that a poor girl, a seamstress, 
 had, in a moment of despair, attempted to take her own 
 life, because of poverty and a want of employment. 
 Truly, a hard case. Is it not possible to devise some 
 means of prevention, some benevolent, or other insti- 
 tution calculated to rescue the children of want, and 
 prevent them from plunging rashly into another world ? 
 There are moments in the life of almost every indi- 
 vidual, when the future of this world seems dark and 
 ray less, when Fortune appears to have utterly aban- 
 
206 SUICIDE. 
 
 doned, and Misery chosen us as his unchanging com- 
 panions. At such times, the fiends of despair and 
 crime irritate and madden, and the weak and irreso- 
 lute, in utter folly, shrink from the realities before 
 them, to brave a condition of being of which they can 
 only imagine. The suicide is, in most cases, an ob- 
 ject of the deepest commiseration. He is, of course, 
 mad for the time being, and often too, his excitement 
 and despair are not the fruits of his own conduct, but 
 of the baseness and falsehood of others. If, while la- 
 boring under melancholy forebodings, the unfortunate 
 and moody-minded could only be won for a few hours, 
 or a few days, to some cheerful train of thought, could 
 be induced to turn aside from the demons of the mind, 
 and disregard their terrible promptings, — could be as- 
 sisted by the voice of Hope, by some friendly counsel 
 or more substantial aid, the cloud would soon disap- 
 pear, the mind brighten, and the pathway of life seem 
 again clothed in flowers and bathed in sunshine. 
 
 Persons in good circumstances, who have never ex- 
 perienced the gnawings of want, who have never felt 
 the bitterness of poverty and disease, who have never 
 been pointed at with scorn because of some false step 
 on the part of themselves or their immediate relatives, 
 who know nothing of the taunts and mockings of a 
 heartless world, can form no adequate idea "of the 
 mental misery of the thousands of the children of mis- 
 fortune — of the horrors of those who rise from a 
 sleepless pillow, and know not where they shall obtain 
 bread for the next twenty -four hours. The newspa- 
 pers, day after day, teem with accounts of suicides. 
 To many, the brief record is attached — "Cause un- 
 known." Alas! for the victim, the wretched self- 
 
SUICIDE. 207 
 
 murderer ! "W ho may tell his or her struggle ? Who 
 may describe the tenacity with which life was clung 
 to until hope itself seemed dead, and all was dark and 
 desolate. Who may paint in adequate colors, the 
 breaking heart, the blighted prospect, the desertion, 
 the abandonment, the wrong, the outrage? Poverty 
 may have come suddenly, and with its grim and re- 
 pellant visage, summer friends, as is too often the case, 
 may have first grown cold, then harsh or blind to the 
 unfortunate. Ah ! how bitter to see the companions of 
 our youth pass us by, as if we were strangers, or point 
 to us with looks of derision, contempt or hear tlessn ess! 
 A few years since, and there flourished in the city 
 of Philadelphia, a leading merchant, with a fortune, as 
 the world supposed, of at least one hundred thousand 
 dollars. But suddenly he failed, and under circum- 
 stances not very reputable. He was a weak man and 
 the blow prostrated him utterly. He became intem- 
 perate, and reduced his family, consisting of a wife 
 and three daughters to the very verge of beggary. The 
 latter had been among the most dashing of our belles, 
 nay among the most frivolous, thoughtless and heart- 
 less. In their day of wealth and pride, they made few 
 friends — for then, money was their god, and they looked 
 with contempt upon all who were not at least their 
 equals in fortune. — Thus, when the reverse came, few 
 pitied and many exulted. The change was indeed 
 fearful to them, and its consequences were truly de- 
 plorable. They could not bear up against the sudden 
 reverse, for they had not been taught the sublime 
 philosophy of the Christian, had neglected the means 
 of education that had been so lavishly provided for 
 them, and although fashionable and flippant, were idle 
 
208 SUICIDE. 
 
 and illiterate. One — the elder — fortunately escaped a 
 wretched fate, by becoming the wife of a worthy store- 
 keeper ; but the others fell still lower than their father ; 
 and one, — while still young and beautiful — in a mo- 
 ment of agony and despair, resorted to the fearful 
 crime which is the subject of our article. Only five 
 years intervened from the period at which she was a 
 dashing belle, and that in which she was the tenant of 
 a miserable hovel in the lower part of the city, and 
 then — A suicide ! The other still lives, but she is 
 morally dead. And yet we verily believe that both 
 would have been saved, had some generous spirit 
 stepped forward in the hour of their adversity, assisted, 
 cheered, and advised. But at this moment, doubtless 
 there are many of the children of poverty and misfor 
 tune — the victims of treachery and desertion — the oc- 
 cupants of the narrow alleys and obscure by-ways of 
 our metropolis — pondering over their woes, meditating 
 upon their misery, and hesitating as to the crime of 
 self-murder. Yes, many, who if sought out, consoled, 
 cheered and encouraged, could still be saved ! What 
 a noble work for philanthropy ! What a redeeming 
 employment for those who in early life were among the 
 dissolute and the guilty, and who yet are spared for 
 penitence and reparation 1 
 

 % §terap of Jraie. 
 
 NO subject perhaps is more trite than Home and 
 its enjoyments. People are constantly discussing 
 the blessings of domestic life, and the happiness to be 
 found within the limits of a well-regulated family cir- 
 cle. And yet we fear that the multitude pay little 
 attention to the essential elements of home life, to the 
 thousand apparently unimportant acts of kindness and 
 good-will, the examples of temper, language and pro- 
 priety, which, in the aggregate, constitute the true 
 beauty and real blessings of home. The infirmities of 
 temper are a great drawback upon domestic happiness. 
 We have known a calm and cheerful circle engaged 
 in pleasant and instructive conversation, disturbed and 
 excited in a moment, as it were, by the unhappy in- 
 troduction of some forbidden topic, and the consequent 
 irritation produced in some morbid, prejudiced, and 
 irritable mind. Pleasure has instantly been converted 
 into pain, and however confused or abashed the au- 
 thors of the evil, they have found themselves unable 
 for the time to repair the error. The "domestic 
 demon," as the foul fiend of an unquiet disposition has 
 been forcibly termed, is perhaps the source of a greater 
 amount of infelicity than any other evil. The worst 
 feelings of our nature are called into play by fits of 
 peevishness, perverseness, and anger, which mere 
 trifles will sometimes produce, and the influence of 
 which is felt for weeks and months. The home that 
 
 (209) 
 
210 THE BLESSINGS OF HOME. 
 
 is annexed by this evil spirit, resembles any thing but 
 an earthly paradise. We have a case in our mind at 
 the present time, in which an almost perpetual condi- 
 tion of misery is kept up, by a disposition to domineer 
 and control on the one hand, and to resist on the 
 other. Arguments and quarrels are constant, the pas- 
 sions are frequently inflamed and excited, and under 
 the influence of these things, language is uttered and 
 threats are made of the most revolting kind, as ex- 
 amples for children. The parties, as is usual in such 
 cases, charge each other with originating the trouble, 
 and thus frequently, after burying the hatchet, get up 
 a new feud in their efforts to find out who was really 
 wrong in the first place. How many a man has been 
 driven from his home, and from all the endearments 
 of domestic life, by the Xantippe-like tongue of a per- 
 petual scold I How many a drunkard has been induced 
 to visit the tavern in the first place, in order to escape 
 the troubled atmosphere of his own dwelling, and the 
 constant reproaches, merited perhaps, but not the less 
 galling, of a too irritable and too vindictive partner ! 
 On the other hand, how many a gentle spirit has been 
 crushed and broken by the brutal and ruffian remarks 
 of some tyrant husband ! How gradually, but with a 
 change far too rapid, has the idol object of "Love's 
 first dream," degenerated into a cold, selfish, and in- 
 different husband. In these cases, home soon loses its 
 charm ; and instead of being a haven from the cares 
 and vicissitudes of the out-door world, it becomes the 
 scene of bitter recriminations, painful and deplorable 
 contentions. Well and forcibly has it been observed, 
 by one who has studied human nature thoroughly 
 that " the multitude of our smiles and kindly feelings 
 
THE BLESSINGS OF HOME. 211 
 
 should be kept for the inmates of home ; while the 
 world should receive those only which could be spared 
 without serious loss." " The great end of prudence," 
 observes another, "is to give cheerfulness to those 
 hours which splendor cannot gild, and acclamation 
 cannot exhilarate — those soft intervals of unbended 
 amusement in which a man shrinks to his natural di- 
 mensions, and throws aside the ornaments or disguises 
 which he feels in privacy to be useless incumbrances, 
 and to lose all effect when they become familiar. To 
 be happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambi- 
 tion, the end to which every enterprise and labor 
 tends, and of which every desire prompts prosecution. 
 It is* indeed at home that every man must be known 
 by those who would make a just estimate of his virtue 
 or felicity, for smiles and embroidery are alike occa- 
 sional, and the mind is often dressed for show in 
 painted honor and fictitious benevolence." 
 
 We may be certain, therefore, that there is some- 
 thing wrong in the disposition, the habits and the 
 morals of the man, or the woman either, who does not 
 turn eagerly to home, whose thoughts are not constantly 
 directed thither, when not engrossed by the ordinary 
 avocations of life, who shuns his home as something 
 unpleasant, who is ever eager to find a pretext for 
 hastening away, or who, when away, manifests no de- 
 sire to return. Our civilization and our religion ren- 
 der it a duty for us to make home as much as 
 possible, the sunniest spot on earth. We are bound 
 to exert all our powers for the happiness of the beings 
 confided to our care, and the richest reward for such 
 a course may be found in the approving whispers of 
 the " still small voice" within. Our example, whether 
 13 
 
212 THE TIME TO RETIRE. 
 
 of language, of temper, or of manner, is sure in the 
 sphere in which we move, to produce evil or good re- 
 sults. If, therefore, in our offspring we discover the 
 fruits of virtuous precepts — if we see their thoughts 
 and their footsteps inclining to virtue and rectitude, 
 the reward is indeed a glorious one. 
 
 W$ Wmt to $ktb.~-% Ipjjikopljg of 
 Contentment 
 
 "Inglorious lags the veteran on the stage." 
 
 IT was some time since announced that a distin- 
 guished member of the bar in a neighboring city, 
 had determined to withdraw from professional life, 
 satisfied that he had reached the " turning point of his 
 career," and at the same time conscious that he could 
 not longer labor with safety to his general health. He 
 had, moreover, accumulated enough, and he was dis- 
 posed to move through the world with comparative 
 ease, for the remainder of his days. A wise decision, 
 and one that is rarely made ! Indeed, the many seem 
 to be unconscious of the truth that there is a limit to 
 physical and mental effort, and a bound to human ex- 
 istence ; and hence it is that few can be induced to 
 retire at the proper moment — or withdraw, when they 
 may do so with honor, safety, comfort, and inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 How often, indeed, does it happen that men outlive 
 
THE TIME TO RETIRE. 213 
 
 their influence, their fortune and their reputation, sim- 
 ply because they are too selfish, too vain, too fond of 
 the cheap applause of their fellows ! How few know 
 themselves, or are willing to acknowledge that they 
 are failing, mentally or physically — that they are not 
 looked up to in the same manner as in former times — 
 that they are, in fact, in the decline of life, slowly but 
 inevitably descending in the scale of importance among 
 men. Go into society — mingle with the out-door 
 world — mix with the merchants and brokers at the 
 Exchange — and you will find, it is true, some of the 
 old, shrewd, and cautious, who are able to cope with 
 their younger and more energetic brethren ; but many 
 who have outlived their palmy day, their vigor of 
 thought, activity and manhood — who are part and 
 parcel of another age, but cannot see themselves as 
 they are, or be induced to relinquish their places to 
 the more active footsteps that are treading behind and 
 around them. It is difficult, indeed, for the multitude 
 who are merely worldly, whose wishes, hopes, and as- 
 pirations are too often bound to perishing and temporal 
 things, to release their grasp upon any source of gain, 
 to abandon the hope of any means of wealth. A case 
 in forcible illustration came under our observation a 
 few years since. An old gentleman of this city, who 
 had been in business for nearly half a century, as an 
 extensive hardware merchant, was at last compelled 
 by ill health, to retire. He had but one son in the 
 world, who was in the same business in a neighboring 
 city. His means were limited, and his family con- 
 sisted of a wife and several small children. He knew 
 that his father was rich, and had looked forward for 
 years to the period at which he would resign his busi- 
 
214 THE TIME TO RETIRE. 
 
 ness into his hands, transfer to him his stock, and per- 
 haps a few thousand dollars, by way of giving the 
 trade a new impulse. But imagine his surprise, when 
 he was told by the father, that he had an offer for the 
 stand and the stock, and that he had determined to dis- 
 pose of them, unless his son would give the same terms. 
 This, be it remembered, by a rich man upward of seventy 
 years of age, and with no near relative in the world 
 but the son alluded to. But he had been so long ac- 
 cumulating, had become so devoted to his treasure, 
 that he could not bear to part with even a dollar while 
 alive, although his revenue was more than amply ade- 
 quate to keep a splendid establishment. The son hesi- 
 tated at the proposition, attempted to modify the 
 terms, but at last, as a measure of policy, consented. 
 
 Cases of a like character are by no means rare. The 
 way in which money is clung to by many individuals 
 who are on the verge of the grave is really surprising. 
 They seem to fancy that they will live forever. At 
 fifty they hesitate ; at sixty they do the same thing, 
 and thus they totter on, until Death at last snatches 
 them away, in the midst of their gold and their worldly 
 affairs. It seems to us that after a man accumulates 
 what is considered an independence, or enough where- 
 with to retire to private life, the appetite for further 
 wealth increases rather than diminishes. Avarice is, 
 indeed, the vice of age. Money is regarded as the 
 source of power, and it is too often so employed rather 
 than as the means of happiness. Thus it is, that so 
 few retire from business at the right time. And this 
 remark will apply to almost every kind of pursuit. 
 Only yesterday we passed two old gentlemen in the 
 street, who are now poor and dependent, each of 
 
THE CONDUCT OF LIFE. 215 
 
 whom, at the age of fifty, was worth at least one hun- 
 dred thousand dollars. But they were unwilling to retire, 
 they sought " a little more," a panic came, " they were 
 forced into the whirlpool," and soon after were bank- 
 rupts. And even now, how many are there in Phila- 
 delphia, the possessors of large fortunes, who are 
 grasping and greedy, who are unwilling to recede into 
 retirement and safety, whose golden dreams are wild 
 and extravagant as avarice can possibly make them. 
 At public meetings, too, how rare is the case in which. 
 an orator times his remarks, talks up to the enthusi- 
 asm of his auditors, closes with a climax, and retires 
 with good taste. The many are deceived with a little 
 applause, fancy that their eloquence is most seductive, 
 exhaust the patience of the listener, and finally neu- 
 tralize the very effect which they sought to produce. 
 Talent is a good thing, but tact is better. The one, 
 according to an old adage, beats the bush, while the 
 other catches the bird. 
 
 % Cflnkd of fife. 
 
 " Be calm, be firm, be true, aud then 
 The future will be thine." 
 
 THERE are few individuals who, on a review of 
 their conduct for a few weeks, or even a few days, 
 do not discover that they have committed serious mis- 
 takes. We are all, more or less, the creatures of circum- 
 stances, and even those who fancy that they have be- 
 
216 THE CONDUCT OF LIFE. 
 
 come thoroughly familiar with the policy of self-gov- 
 ernment, and are thus able to command and control 
 themselves, ever and anon discover that they have 
 been guilty of some error of omission or commission. 
 It is difficult, nay, it is impossible, to keep constant 
 watch and guard upon our lips, our impulses, our 
 feelings and our actions. And if we were able to do 
 so, we should become so cold, artificial and mechan- 
 ical, that the more generous features of our heart 
 and disposition would be completely neutralized. 
 Nevertheless, some system of restraint is absolutely 
 essential, and it cannot be inculcated and practiced too 
 soon. There is not an individual in the whole family 
 of man, who can look back upon his past life without 
 discovering many delinquencies, moral, social and do- 
 mestic. These, too, in most cases, were errors of haste 
 or of passion, and yet they embittered the mind and 
 heart, not only for hours but for years. What, then, 
 should be our rule and policy? How should we 
 so deport ourselves as to avoid offence to others and 
 annoyance to ourselves ? These questions cannot be 
 answered very readily ; and yet their importance must 
 be apparent to every intelligent and reflecting mind. 
 One thing at least we may do. "We may institute 
 a course of self-examination, and thus ascertain, if 
 possible, our tendencies, inclinations and infirmities, 
 for all have more or less of these. Let us once dis 
 cover and admit these defects of character — let us, in 
 short, become acquainted with ourselves, and then we 
 may with the more confidence of success, attempt to 
 check, restrain and control. The errors of impulse, of 
 passion, and of prejudice are of almost hourly occurs 
 rence. We not only forget ourselves, but what is due 
 
THE CONDUCT OF LIFE. 217 
 
 to others. If, moreover, every individual would, at the 
 beginning of the year, deeicle upon and keep constantly 
 in view, some particular line of social policy and moral 
 duty, many anxieties and difficulties would be avoided. 
 But the world moves on so rapidly, the hum of trade 
 is so constant, and the objects in pursuit are so numer- 
 ous, that we !ia-ve no time to pause and think, or at 
 least we fancy so. How difficult, indeed, is the task of 
 saying No, even when such a course is enjoined as a 
 duty. And how often do we say Yes, in an hour of ex- 
 citement and temptation, when we should hesitate and 
 keep silent. This is the case more or less with all. 
 How easy, moreover, is it to promise, without having 
 the ability, or even the disposition to perform. — Or, 
 we may be honest and sincere at the time, and yet 
 reflection or circumstances may show that we over- 
 estimated our resources, or deceived ourselves. Sir 
 Edward Bulwer, the celebrated novelist, in the course 
 of an Address which, he delivered some time since, as 
 Lord Director of the University of Glasgow, gave 
 some excellent advice. " Never," said he, " affect to be 
 other than you are, either richer or wiser. Never be 
 ashamed to say; ' I do not know.' Men will then be- 
 lieve you when you say 'I do know.' Never be 
 unwilling to say, whether as applied to time or money, 
 1 1 cannot afford it ; I cannot afford to waste an hour 
 in the idleness to which you invite me ; I cannot afford 
 the guinea you ask me to throw away.' Once establish 
 yourself and your conduct in life, as what they really 
 are, and your foot is on the solid ground, whether for 
 the gradual step onward, or for the sudden spring over a 
 precipice. From these maxims another may be deduced : 
 Learn to say no with decision, and yes with caution — 
 
218 THE CONDUCT OF LIFE. 
 
 no with decision, when it resists temptation, and yes 
 with caution, whenever it implies a promise. A 
 promise once given is a bond inviolable. A man is 
 already of consequence in the world, when it is known 
 that he can be relied upon. How frequently do we 
 see in life, a person preferred to a long list of applicants 
 for some important charge, calculated to lift him at 
 once into station and fortune, merely because he has 
 this reputation — that when he says he knows a thing, he 
 knows it j and when he says he will do a thing, he will do 
 it." . The above is at once brief, comprehensive, forcible 
 and emphatic. We have rarely met with an equal 
 amount of sterling advice within such narrow limits, 
 and if every reader would give the quotation a place in 
 his memory or memorandum-book, with the purpose 
 of referring to it from time to time, as he pursues his 
 way along the devious paths of life, the result could 
 not but be salutary. But in all cases, and under all 
 circumstances, we should remember that we are weak, 
 infirm, and fallible beings, and that our best efforts 
 will prove feeble and inefficient, unless we constantly 
 feel and appreciate our dependence upon Divine Provi- 
 dence. 
 
" Knowledge is not virtue." 
 
 A SAD mistake is committed by some parents in 
 supposing that by giving their children all the 
 advantages of intellectual instruction, they fit them as 
 well for the moral as the mental conflicts of the world. 
 It is quite as important to educate the heart as the head, 
 to imbue the former with noble feelings, generous 
 sensibilities, benevolence, kindness and good-will, as 
 to store the latter with the beauties of poetry — the dis- 
 coveries of science — the apothegms of sages. " Knowl- 
 edge did not teach Bonaparte to sacrifice his own de- 
 sires to the happiness of any living creature ; it neither 
 made Augustus respect the life of Cicero, nor the pupil 
 of Aristotle restrain the fury of his passions. Mirabeau, 
 the genius of the French revolution, was a monster of 
 depravity ; even Eobespierre was a man of education ! 
 Knowledge, on the contrary, when undirected by re- 
 ligion, is made the servant of vice, and has in all ages 
 produced most fearfu consequences." How frequently 
 do we find men of superior acquirements, who, by a 
 course of integrity, could readily win distinction and 
 confer honor on themselves and families, nevertheless, 
 because of their moral obliquity, the error of their 
 early training, become disfigured by falsehood, vice 
 and crime, fall the more signally in consequence of 
 
 (219) 
 
220 THE MOEAL AND THE INTELLECTUAL. 
 
 their intellectual endowments. A celebrated philoso- 
 pher has said that " the mind at our birth is a blank 
 sheet of paper, whereon 'circumstances and external 
 influences trace various characters." This may not 
 be true to the full extent of the expression, but it is 
 nevertheless measurably so. We are in many respects 
 the creatures of circumstances, of habit, association 
 and example. They who mingle in early life in re- 
 fined, educated, pure and moral society, will be corre- 
 spondingly moulded in character, and find interwoven 
 into their nature at least something of the qualities and 
 associations referred to. Their tastes will be chastened, 
 their habits of thought improved, and their hearts 
 purified. The moral as well as the intellectual will 
 be influenced and formed. Conceptions of right and 
 wrong, of vice and of virtue, of the manly and the 
 mean, will be engendered, and these will exercise a 
 potent sway upon every hour of after existence. 
 
 Children are being educated morally as well as in- 
 tellectually every moment that they live; and inas- 
 much as their moral condition is of far more impor- 
 tance for their happiness both here and hereafter, than 
 their intellectual, a due degree of attention should be 
 paid to it. It has been beautifully said that " childhood 
 is like a mirror, catching and reflecting images from 
 all around it, and that an impious or profane thought, 
 uttered by a parent's lips, may operate on the young 
 heart like a careless spray of water thrown upon 
 polished steel, staining it with rust which no after 
 scouring can efface." But how often do parents forget 
 this eloquent and admonitory truth! How frequently 
 do they sacrifice the moral to the intellectual ! How 
 common is it for them to exult at the triumphs of the 
 
 k 
 
THE MOEAL AND THE INTELLECTUAL. 221 
 
 head, even when they involve the viciousness of • the 
 heart! Pertness, impudence, disobedience, are in too 
 many cases petted and encouraged — too often regarded 
 as commendable qualities, when they should be re- 
 buked as exactly the reverse. Compliment on such 
 occasions amounts to false and daugerous education. 
 It serves to misguide and mislead, to darken and mis- 
 direct the moral nature. "Ah!" exclaims a parent, 
 " we must overlook this or that vice in a favorite son, 
 he is so smart." Again we hear the exclamation: 
 " the boy has a restless will of his own, but he will 
 nevertheless make a great man, he is so ready-witted.' , 
 The error is a common one. Truth, purity and virtue 
 are sacrificed, while waywardness, passion and even 
 falsehood are indulged. An insolent answer is mis- 
 taken for aptness and readiness, and in some cases 
 parents, even while they feel the blood mounting to 
 their cheeks at insults from children in the presence 
 of third persons, will endeavor to gloss over and 
 apologize for the outrage by some excuse or affirma- 
 tion as to the possession by the offender of remarkable 
 intellectual powers. Can we wonder, under these cir- 
 cumstances, that so many young men go astray — that 
 we hear so frequently of cases of disobedience, of do- 
 mestic feuds and all their fearful consequences ? The 
 mistake is, that the heart is sacrificed for the head, the 
 moral for the intellectual, the essential virtues for the 
 more dazzling qualities. Is not this true of your case, 
 gentle reader? Have you, fond father or indulgent 
 mother, nothing wherewith to charge yourself on this 
 score? Are you endeavoring so to educate your sons 
 and daughters that they will prefer virtue to power — 
 that they will heed the still, small voice within— that 
 
222 THE SOMBRE HOURS OF LIFE. 
 
 they will recognize their constant dependence upon 
 Providence — and when about to finish their earthly 
 career will look back with hearts glowing with grate- 
 ful recollections, and bless the memory of departed 
 parents, whose precepts and examples of morality and 
 benevolence, honor and rectitude, were to them as 
 lights from within, in every trial and vicissitude of 
 life! 
 
 
 e Bsmkt Hmtrs of fife; or, a Metis 
 to % Jtjttftfo 
 
 WE a few days since met with an old friend, who 
 appeared to be in great trouble. He had ex- 
 perienced a misfortune not of a very serious charac- 
 ter, and yet from causes which he could not explain 
 even to himself, his spirits were utterly broken. He 
 saw nothing but gloom and disaster in the future, and 
 life for the time was without a charm to him. "We 
 talked and reasoned with him, but in vain. A cloud 
 seemed to weigh upon his mind and heart,— a myste- 
 rious something appeared to depress him. He said he 
 had endeavored, but without success, to rally and ap- 
 pear cheerful, and such was his discontent, uneasiness 
 and apprehension, that at times he was afraid of him- 
 self. He knew, he said, that the disaster which seemed 
 the immediate cause of his moodiness of mind, was by 
 no means irreparable, and he knew that he had often 
 experienced more fearful calamities, and recovered 
 
THE SOMBRE HOURS OF LIFE. 223 
 
 from them with comparative ease. Nevertheless, for 
 a few days, he could not shake off the incubus that 
 appeared to be weighing him to the earth. Fortu- 
 nately, however, the condition of mind to which we 
 have referred, lasted but for a short time, and our 
 friend emerged from the gloom as cheerful and buoy- 
 ant as ever. Then he was puzzled to understand how 
 or why he had been so much depressed. All, at times, 
 have their moments of melancholy. Many causes, in- 
 visible to the human eye and intelligence, operate upon 
 and influence us. Some are doubtless more liable to 
 these shadowy influences than others. "With some the 
 gloom is darker and deeper, and continues for a longer 
 time. But if it were possible for an individual to 
 choose at random a hundred citizens from the commu- 
 nity, and to analyze their thoughts and feelings, it 
 would be seen that the great majority, if not all, are 
 sometimes sad without being able to explain why — 
 feel lonely, wretched, and full of dark presentiments, 
 without being able to discover adequate causes for 
 such a state of mind. It is under the influence of such 
 feelings, and at times of such depression, that the 
 wretched victim of despair, — and often measurably 
 causeless — hurries into another world — plunges head- 
 long into an eternal state of existence. He thus in the 
 hour of madness, seeks to escape the passing and mo- 
 mentary shadows of this life. It is not well to gjve 
 way to moody imaginings. We should endeavor to 
 rouse ourselves, and by exercise, effort, and activity, 
 as well of mind as of body, to scare away the fiend of 
 ennui — the dark creations of a morbid or unnaturally 
 excited imagination. The better qualities of our 
 nature, the loftier virtues, the manly energies should 
 
224 THE SOMBRE HOURS OF LIFE. 
 
 be invoked, and these, with activity and mental em- 
 ployment, will soon restore us to a wholesome and 
 cheerful condition of thought and reflection. How 
 rarely do we find the poor, the hard-working, and the 
 toil-worn — even though steeped to the lips in poverty 
 — resorting to the criminal act of self-murder. The 
 truth is — they are constantly employed, they have no 
 idle hours, — they have no leisure for sad reflections ; 
 and thus they escape the phantoms to which we have 
 referred. If, moreover, when a prey to this disposi- 
 tion to despond, we would but visit some of the abodes 
 of ^poverty, penetrate the recesses of our almshouses 
 and hospitals, and contrast the condition of the depend- 
 ent and suffering there collected together, with our 
 own — we would indeed be dead to the impulses of 
 gratitude, not to acknowledge our superior' blessings 
 and enjoyments. The Blind, the Deaf, the Dumb, the 
 Deformed — alas! for these children of misfortune. 
 Why should we, who can see and hear,— who still 
 possess our hands, our arms, and are in good health, 
 comparatively speaking, — why should we utter a word 
 of lamentation, or murmur for a moment at the de- 
 crees of Providence, while so many who are better and 
 worthier, are content and cheerful even in conditions* 
 that to us seem deplorable. Dependent we all are, 
 upon a Superior Being. This dependence should be 
 recognized by us in every act of life. The rich man 
 of to-day may be a beggar a year hence; while the 
 poor and the unfortunate may soon rise into independ- 
 ence and even affluence. But all, we repeat, to be happy, 
 to be cheerful, to feel an inward consciousness of 
 peace, must exercise in the way that seems wises I and 
 best, the various faculties given by the Creator,— and 
 
 
 and 
 
THE HAESH AND THE HASTY. 225 
 
 must prove mindful of their duties as men, as Christ- 
 ians, as human beings whose lives are limited to a 
 span, whose to-morrow will be colored and influenced 
 by the conduct of to-day — whose future, whether in 
 this life or the life to come, will in a certain sense be 
 but the sequel of the present state of existence. If, 
 moreover, we experience misfortune, let us suppose 
 that the visitation is a chastisement designed for our 
 own good, intended to arouse us to a sense of our de- 
 pendent condition, and to induce us by virtuous medi- 
 tations and actions, to deserve exemption from such 
 calamities for the future. If our lives were all sun- 
 shine, — if Yice received no check, — if Death did not 
 occasionally remind us of his presence — how rapid, 
 headlong, and. profligate wo*ld be the career of thou- 
 sands — ay, of thousands who are restrained, reformed, 
 and benefitted, by the very influences to which we 
 have adverted. 
 
 %\t Pro| aifo ijje Ifastn; 01; (Error aitb 
 
 One little word, if softly spoken — 
 One little tear, if kindly shed — 
 
 Can heal the spirit hraised and broken, 
 And cure the heart that long hath bled." 
 
 A FRIEND came to us some days since in evident 
 trouble. He said that a few hours before, he 
 had been conversing and arguing somewhat warmly 
 
\2& THE HARSH AND THE HASTY. 
 
 with an old and respected neighbor, and that in the 
 heat of the controversy, he had touched a delicate sub- 
 ject somewhat harshly, and had thus given pain with- 
 out intending to do so, and he sincerely regretted and 
 deplored the circumstance. The other evidently felt 
 the remark keenly, for the blood mounted to his fore- 
 head, and then he became deadly pale, and for a few 
 seconds was unable to speak. Seeing the error he had 
 committed, and the injury he had inflicted, our friend 
 terminated the conversation abruptly, and, as he con- 
 fessed, awkwardly enough, but the subject had an- 
 noyed him ever*since. What should he do? How 
 should he repair his error? He would not for worlds 
 have been the source of the agony of mind, the torture 
 of feelings, which his unhagpy remark had unwittingly 
 caused — but the words had been uttered, and his anx- 
 iety now was, to make reparation. After some little 
 hesitation, we persuaded him to go immediately to the 
 injured individual and tender a manly and generous 
 apology. This was done in the proper spirit, and the 
 dilemma was at once removed. Cases such as we have 
 hinted at, are constantly occurring. Men get excited 
 while talking even upon ordinary topics, grow warm 
 as they become disputants, say severe things, not in- 
 tending them to wound the feelings, but they frequently 
 and heedlessly introduce personal matters, or topics 
 capable of being construed into insults, and thus anger 
 is provoked, retorts are elicited, and bitter feuds are 
 caused. It is the manly course on such occasions, on 
 reviewing all the facts as calmly as possible, not only 
 to admit to ourselves the points in which we have been 
 wrong, but to embrace the very first opportunity of 
 making a frank, full, and magnanimous atonement: 
 
 Kl,« 
 
THE HARSH AND THE HASTY. 227 
 
 Such a policy is due by justice, honor, and fair deal- 
 ing, and while calculated to relieve our own feelings, 
 it will, in a great majority of cases, adjust the diffi- 
 culty, and prove a source of sincere pleasure to both 
 parties. We are aware that it requires the exercise 
 of high moral nerve, to pursue and act under this 
 policy. Pride and Selfishness are ever at hand to in- 
 terfere, while the demons of mischief and of evil are 
 apt to whisper a thousand excuses in palliation of our 
 own conduct. Again, many persons are prone to re- 
 gard the course alluded to as humiliating; while there 
 is a vicious principle in almost every heart, which en- 
 deavors to prevent the wrong-doer from making 
 atonement,, and indeed in many cases prompts him to 
 consider himself as the aggrieved party, and to act ac- 
 cordingly. Beware! we say, beware of so fatal, so 
 criminal a delusion! Error and crime must be ac- 
 counted and atoned for one day, and the sooner we 
 relieve our minds and our hearts from the dark 
 shadows, the deathless memories which will ever and 
 anon arise and haunt us in relation to past and un- 
 atoned sins, the better for our own repose, for the 
 enjoyment of the present, and the hopes of the future. 
 And yet, how few there are who cannot, on looking 
 back, find some unadjusted account. How few who 
 cannot remember some harsh word, the utterance of 
 which caused a pang at the moment, and the recollec- 
 tion of which has been permitted to rankle and fester 
 ever since. How rare are the instances in which indi- 
 viduals have endeavored to make reparation for all the 
 offences committed against relatives, friends, and 
 society. Who cannot, in the quiet of his own cham- 
 ber, in the silence of his own closet, in confidential 
 14 
 
228 THE HAHSn AXD TITE HASTY 
 
 communication with his own mind and heart, point 
 out some instance in which injustice was done, deceit 
 was practiced, or advantage was taken? The error or 
 crime, we know and admit. We feel that in the record 
 of our years, as written in the great book, the false 
 and vicious conduct alluded to is registered in dark 
 and accusing characters — that still the work of atone- 
 ment, of restitution, of satisfaction, nay, of justice — is 
 unfulfilled. This we confess to ourselves, and occa- 
 sionally, too, we enter into an implied compact with 
 conscience, to commence the good work at an early 
 moment. But month after month — year after year is 
 permitted to pass by, and still the dark record is 
 allowed to remain. The ghosts of our evil deeds con- 
 tinue to haunt us; we feel that we have erred, we 
 know that there is a duty still unperformed, and yet 
 such is the weakness, the folly, the infirmity of 
 human nature, that old age, death, and the grave fre- 
 quently steal on, and the errors and sins of youth and 
 of middle life, are unatoned for. Have you, gentle 
 reader, any sad account of this kind registered against 
 you ? Have you said or done aught which you know 
 to have been wrong, and which you feel in your 
 better moments, should be undone, as far as may be 
 by penitence and reparation. If aye — postpone the act 
 of apology, of reparation — of duty and of justice, no 
 longer. 
 
$t not Jkflnragtfo. 
 
 " A good deed never dies." 
 
 WE sometimes hear individuals complain that the 
 progress of reform is slow — that "the millions" 
 of the human family are still suffering, toiling, and in 
 a great measure oppressed — that the march of civiliza- 
 tion has not in all cases been characterized by happy 
 influences, — and that the day is yet remote, when the 
 hope dearest to the Christian's heart, in relation to the 
 universal regeneration of man, shall be fully realized. 
 There may be something in this complaint, but there 
 is, nevertheless, much to gladden and encourage in the 
 signs of the times, not only in the New world but in 
 the Old. We believe that a more liberal spirit of hu- 
 manity is gaining ascendency — that a more generous 
 sympathy for our kind is becoming a distinguishing 
 feature of the age, — that the mighty minds of our day 
 and generation are beginning to direct their attention 
 more fully to the privations, the wants, the necessities, 
 and comforts of the poor. All this, therefore, is 
 encouraging. It indicates a sympathy with our race 
 among the intellectual and the gifted, which cannot 
 but be productive of the happiest results. When we 
 see many of the master spirits of our time — not only 
 "abroad" but at home — directing the intellectual 
 power given them by the Creator, to the amelioration 
 of the condition of mankind, the philanthropist has 
 great reason to rejoice and " take heart." Of late years 
 14 (229) 
 
230 BE NOT DISCOUKAGED. 
 
 too, much has been accomplished for the relief of the 
 wretched, the neglected, the misguided, and the erring. 
 Throughout the civilized world, a movement of the 
 most gratifying character is in progress at this moment, 
 with reference to the Insane Poor. This is a work of 
 true benevolence, and as one of the bright and distin- 
 guishing features of the age, is well calculated to show 
 that a "lively humanity" is abroad. The efforts made 
 and in progress in Europe, for the relief of the thou- 
 sands engaged in mines and manufactories, may also be 
 referred to in terms of cordial approbation. The com- 
 parative peace of the world — the increasing detestation 
 of war — the disposition to appeal to reason and equity 
 rather than the sword ! These are indications of the 
 right kind. There is, we repeat, much to encourage 
 and animate all genuine philanthropists. It is the duty 
 of all to assist as much as possible in softening and 
 soothing human misery, in mitigating the ills to which 
 " flesh is heir." When great opportunities are afforded, 
 — when by position or mental power, individuals can 
 relieve, assist or aid some comprehensive work of hu- 
 manity, their duty to do so is imperative. On the 
 other hand, no one should be deterred from participat- 
 ing in a good work, from a belief of the feebleness of 
 his powers, or the limited character of his influence. 
 The humblest are sometimes made the instruments of 
 mighty reforms in the hands of Providence. Each 
 should contribute his mite in the spirit of the poor 
 widow. Thus high and low, humble and exalted, act- 
 ing together, and animated by humane motives, would 
 speedily assist the regeneration of man, and not only 
 promote the happiness of others, but contribute to their 
 own enjoyment. 
 
BE NOT DISCOURAGED. 231 
 
 "Be not discouraged" is a good motto in every 
 laudable undertaking. We should not, in all cases, 
 look for immediate results. Human foresight is at 
 best narrow and limited, and what to man may seem 
 untoward and disheartening, may to the eye and the 
 mind of the Supreme Being, be fraught with remote 
 results of the most exalting character. The faith of 
 the Christian teaches him to look forward to a period 
 when the condition of the human race shall be infinitely 
 improved. It is his duty, therefore, to contribute as 
 much as possible, to assist and hasten " a consummation 
 so devoutly wished." Every pure precept that is 
 uttered, every noble act, the exercise of every generous 
 sympathy ; — all that is good in itself, that is prompted 
 by benevolent motives, or that aims at salutary ends, 
 form but the manifestations of the better spirit of man, 
 and may be said to contribute in some degree to the 
 realization of the exalted hope to which we have 
 referred. This is the case even in humble, in every 
 day, in individual life. When, however, men are 
 placed by circumstances, in positions of high trust and 
 responsibility, and are thus enabled to control and 
 direct the masses, their efforts for good may be, nay 
 must be, productive of far more important results. 
 Thus, too, with all benevolent associations, with all 
 patient and untiring efforts — with all charitable insti- 
 tutions, — with every thing that aims at the diffusion 
 of knowledge and " the greatest good of the greatest 
 number." If it were possible for an individual on 
 entering life, to choose the mode of existence best 
 calculated to be productive of happiness here, and to 
 yield the strongest hope of future bliss, the path of 
 true hearted philanthropy would undoubtedly be 
 
232 BE NOT DISCOURAGED. 
 
 selected. What happy visions must throng around 
 the death -bed of the individual who has dedicated a 
 large portion of his life to the comforts, the necessities 
 and the improvement of his race — to the man who has 
 in many cases sacrificed self and selfish interests, to 
 soothe the sorrows, to relieve the distresses and 
 administer to the wants of others. That there are such, 
 philanthropists, and many such, is apparent from the 
 charitable institutions which adorn and beautify the 
 civilized portion of the world — and from the acts of 
 generosity and benevolence which we are so constantly 
 constantly called upon to record. Again, then, we say 
 to every friend of his race — be not discouraged ! There 
 is much of true charity, of real virtue, of single- 
 hearted benevolence in the world, and though the seed 
 planted to-day may not bring forth fruit as speedily 
 as the more sanguine may desire — it is not the less a 
 duty to engage in the work of virtue and reform ; 
 for years hence, when our hands may be still and cold 
 and our voices mute in death, the hopes and aspira- 
 tions now cherished, may be realized to the advan- 
 tage of our offspring — to the benefit of generations 
 yet unborn. 
 
 " Like seeds deep hid in the thankless earth, 
 
 Or buried in dead men's tombs, 
 'Till the spade of the laborer casts them forth, 
 
 Or the traveler's search exhnmes — 
 Revived again ill the upper air, 
 
 Not one of their powers is lost ; 
 Plant them, they root and flourish fair, 
 
 And bring forth a goodly host 
 Of oflfspring, though centimes may have past 
 Since they in tbeir darksome cells were cast. 
 
 So is the word that virtue preaches ; 
 
 The good seed may seem to die, 
 And the fruit of the holy creed it teaches 
 
 Be hidden from human eye : 
 
GOOD AND EVIL. 233 
 
 If the vital germ of truth he there, 
 
 It never can perish wholly, 
 Kich hlossom and fruit it will surely bear, 
 
 Though for long years buried lowly ; 
 Other hands may bring it to light and seDd : 
 But the seed of good thoughts has a fruitful end." 
 
 (Sfafo art> (M. 
 
 THEKE are periods in the existence of almost 
 every individual, when the events of the past 
 rise up before the eyes of memory, and in vivid colors 
 we detect our follies and our errors, discover at a 
 glance at what period false steps were taken, and 
 when, had we but pursued another course, success and 
 prosperity would have crowned our efforts. Rarely 
 does it happen at such moments, that we find a de- 
 parture from the path of integrity has resulted even in 
 worldly success, while, in the great majority of cases, 
 a yielding to temptation, a forgetfulness for the time 
 of the rigid restraints of morality, an indifference to 
 the gentle appeals of conscience, will be recognized as 
 the origin of most of our subsequent vicissitudes. The 
 reflection, too, that a violation of duty preceded our 
 disaster, is full of bitterness and anguish. "We regard 
 ourselves as but justly punished. We feel that the 
 penalty has only followed the crime. If, on the other 
 hand, there is a consciousness within of rectitude and 
 truth, no matter what our present adversity, or how 
 dark the clouds that now overshadow our path, the 
 angel voice of hope will still whisper that brightness 
 
2o4 GOOD AND EVIL. 
 
 and happiness await us in the future, that sooner or 
 later virtue and trnth will triumph, and in this con- 
 sciousness there is great consolation and comfort. 
 This we all know. These are facts within the expe- 
 rience of all who have proper sensibilities, who can 
 reflect and trace effect from cause, and who have a be- 
 lief in the justice of an overruling Providence. There 
 are few, indeed, who cannot look back and discover 
 some darkness, some error, some injustice in the his- 
 tory of their past lives, something that they would if 
 they could, expunge and blot from existence forever. 
 But ever and anon the recollection will revive, and 
 cast a gloom over the present. It is thus with the 
 memory of evil, ever thus when the heart is not wholly • 
 hardened. The good on the other hand, how glorious 
 the contrast ! It not only brightens and blesses for 
 the present, and while we are in the discharge of our 
 duty, but it sweetens and softens every hour of after 
 existence. This philosophy is not only established in 
 one case but in thousands. We believe it — we know 
 it, we see it from day to day. And yet with this 
 knowledge before us, with these results of vice and 
 virtue — how few act as if they appreciated the truth 
 to which we have referred — as if they recognized the 
 doctrine that the conduct of to-day, to-morrow and the 
 next day, would in any degree affect our condition of 
 life, our happiness, our feelings of peace, security and 
 contentment in the time to come. There are few indeed 
 who cannot discriminate between the false and the 
 true, between benevolence and ill-will, between virtue 
 and vice. There are few who will not admit in the 
 closet and in confidential moments, that vice carries 
 vvith it a penalty, and virtue a blessing. Nevertheless— 
 
GOOD AND EVIL. 235 
 
 taking the thousands who constitute a community like 
 this, how few act and live as if this doctrine were ever 
 present to their minds and hearts. Can we wonder 
 then at the unhappiness of so large a portion of man- 
 kind? Are not those who are fretful, peevish and 
 complaining, the victims, in many cases, of former 
 error, or of existing infirmity of disposition? Do 
 they not neglect the true philosophy of life as well as 
 of Christianity ? Do they do unto their neighbors as 
 they would they should do unto them? Are they 
 kindly, affable and generous ? Or are they peevish, 
 harsh and ill-natured ? Do they sympathize with the 
 afflicted, and endeavor to mitigate their sufferings ; or 
 do they rejoice at the distresses of their fellow - 
 creatures ; or at least turn a deaf ear to the appeals 
 that are made for sympathy and relief? Do they, in 
 their domestic relations, endeavor to impart happiness, 
 to reciprocate affection, to render home the chosen 
 spot where all the gentler virtues may cluster and 
 concentrate ? Or do they play the tyrant with wife 
 and children, and then charge the disquiet and anxiety 
 of the household upon the patient and the suffering ? 
 These are questions, which, answered in the true 
 spirit, will tell the whole story of much of the discon- 
 tent and infelicity of human existence. 
 
 We are ourselves the authors of much that annoys 
 us. " If," in the language of an eminent writer, " we 
 would judge others as leniently as we judge our- 
 selves — if we would but mark our own failings as 
 critically and minutely as we mark those of our neigh- 
 bors — should we not then be more charitable ? And 
 what gives us so clear an insight into the defects of 
 others, but that the seeds of the same defects are in 
 
236 GOOD AND EVIL. 
 
 our own bosoms, and we know them from their 
 semblance, though we own it not. And what makes 
 us oppose them, but that they cross our interests, 
 encounter our defects, and shock and thwart us in 
 our onward path." We do not with sufficient vigi- 
 lance watch and control our passions and impulses. 
 We act too thoughtlessly, too heedlessly, and without 
 due reflection. We charge against the world, or the 
 individuals more immediately around us, anxieties 
 and perplexities which in many cases originate with 
 ourselves. The experience of our own conduct is lost 
 upon us. The convictions of our own minds are not 
 sufficiently heeded. We know the right path, but we 
 do not pursue it. We admire and appiaud the gentler 
 humanities, and yet we daily outrage and violate 
 them. Let us then endeavor to remedy this condition 
 of things. Let us strive to do good as well for itself 
 as for the blessings that are sure to follow it. Let us 
 guard and restrain our passions ! Let us admit and 
 remedy our errors and weaknesses ! Let us commence 
 with an effort to impart pleasure, to add to the happi- 
 ness of the beings immediately confided to our charge, 
 or in any degree under our* influence — such as our 
 friends, our relatives, our neighbors, and the com- 
 panions with whom we are in the habit of associating ! 
 They doubtless have discovered and lamented the evil 
 features of our disposition and character. Let us sur- 
 prise them by a change for the better ! Let us show 
 them that we not only understand the true art, the 
 real philosophy of life, but that we endeavor to illus- 
 trate the theory and doctrine by conduct and example! 
 Let us, in short, while striving to bless and brighten 
 the lives of others, create for ourselves a source of 
 true, pure and unfailing happiness. 
 
 re- 
 res 
 
IE - 
 
 Imaginary Qftnls anb dnetaittts. 
 
 " Yield to the phantasy — thou sinnest ; resist it, He will aid thee." 
 
 IT is curious to see how some people annoy them- 
 selves without a cause, and imagine a thousand 
 evils to exist or to threaten them which have being 
 only in a diseased fancy. The truth is, all are more 
 or less affected in the way described. There are 
 moments when the wisest, the best, the most philo- 
 sophic, give way to moodiness of spirit, look at the 
 world through a discolored medium, and conceive that 
 they are the most unfortunate of mankind. The con- 
 dition of the body no doubt affects the mind; and 
 thus physical debility or illness will often induce an 
 individual to suppose that many misfortunes are at 
 hand which are by no means likely to occur. It is 
 through the agency of such depressing and bewilder- 
 ing causes that many an act of madness and despair is 
 committed, and that even self-murder is resorted to, 
 to escape the shadowy demons of the brain. The vic- 
 tims of this phantasm are entitled to our liveliest sym- 
 pathy; but they should, nevertheless, wrestle man- 
 fully, with a resolute and a Christian spirit, against 
 moodiness so depressing and disheartening. Other- 
 wise, they will sooner or later become bankrupts in 
 health and in happiness. A diseased imagination, a 
 clouded mind, are indeed among the most deplorable 
 of calamities ; and every tendency to such depression 
 
 (237) 
 
238 IMAGIN, iY EVILS AND GRIEVANCES. 
 
 and melancholy, should be earnestly and vigorously 
 resisted. 
 
 But there is another feature of this disposition to 
 torture one's self unnecessarily, that deserves to be 
 mentioned. We have an individual in our mind's eye 
 at the present moment, whose case may be quoted by 
 way of illustration. He is " one of the best natured 
 men alive," full of kindness and benevolence, and yet 
 nervous, sensitive and fretful. He is constantly an- 
 noying himself with imaginary evils — applying re- 
 marks to his own case which were never intended for 
 him, and discovering in the looks of neighbors and 
 friends, something suspicious, significant, and calcu- 
 lated to produce uneasiness. Even in free and social 
 conversations he fancies that " such a hint" was in- 
 tended for him; and, coloring up for the moment, 
 he sometimes attempts to explain or reply, and the 
 chances are ten to one that he makes the matter worse. 
 The newspaper essays of the day sometimes put him 
 in a fever ; for he fancies, strangely enough, that the 
 authors have heard of his private history, have been 
 able to glance into his mind and heart, have selected 
 his follies and frailties as the theme of their hasty 
 sketches. Not long since an article appeared in one 
 of the public journals, in which a particular foible of 
 society was commented upon, in terms of no little 
 severity, and the writer, by way of illustration, cited 
 a supposed example. The sketch — as we happen to 
 know — was wholly imaginary ; but some mischievous 
 wag, who was acquainted with the infirmity of our 
 friend, enclosed the article in " black lines" and sent 
 it to the address of the nervous gentleman. He had 
 before glanced over it with little attention, and with 
 
 

 IMAGINARY EVILS AND • GRIEVANCES. 239 
 
 scarcely a thought as to its application to himself. 
 But, another having discovered that he was the 
 original, that his weakness had become so palpable as 
 to make it a fit subject for newspaper portraiture, he 
 was sadly annoyed. The worst of it was — and this 
 may be referred to as another weakness and folly — he 
 could not remain satisfied until he had called on 
 dozens of his friends, pointed their attention to the 
 offending sketch, and argued at length as to its inac- 
 curacy, inapplicability and severity. Some of them 
 laughed at the whole affair, and said that it had no 
 allusion to him, while others, for such is the way of 
 the world, only endeavored to make the matter worse, 
 and to excite still further the diseased imagination of 
 the morbidly sensitive and unnecessarily aggrieved. 
 
 A still more forcible illustration of this disposition 
 to misapply, occurred with our friend a few years 
 since. He attended the church in which he had a 
 pew, and over which the Eev. Dr. B., now no more, 
 presided. The discourse was not only admirable in its 
 general tone and tendency, but in its application, it 
 was what is usually called " searching." Our friend 
 listened for a while with ordinary attention, until a 
 remark fell from the speaker which seemed to arouse 
 him like an electric shock. He instantly turned his 
 eyes in an earnest manner toward the pulpit, opened 
 his ears to their full tension, and became convinced, as 
 the clergyman proceeded, that the sermon was intended 
 expressly for him, that he had been selected out as the 
 theme of the discourse, and that his errors and infirmi- 
 ties were the topics of comment and animadversion. 
 He became so excited before the sermon was over, that 
 he could scarcely keep his seat, and at its close he seized 
 
240 IMAGINARY EVILS AND GRIEVANCES. 
 
 his hat and rushed out of the church. The rest of the 
 day he was in a sad frame of mind, for he felt con- 
 vinced that he had been held up before the whole con 
 gregation in such a way, that every one must have 
 seen that he was particularly alluded to. He argued 
 with himself that he had always had a very high, 
 opinion of Dr. B. ; he had been a regular attendant for 
 years at the church in which he preached, and although 
 it was proper in a clergyman to denounce error and 
 vice in general terms > he had no right to make any 
 particular member of his congregation the subject of 
 emphatic remarks, and in a manner so pointed too, 
 as to hold him up to recognition. He hesitated for 
 some time, and then determined to visit the doctor 
 and ask an explanation. At the interview which en- 
 sued, the clergyman manifested the greatest surprise. 
 The sermon was intended for no individual in parti- 
 cular, was designed to be general, and certainly it was 
 the furthest from his thoughts to single out any mem- 
 ber of his congregation. The complainant stammered, 
 and was evidently confused and abashed, but the cler- 
 gyman relieved him by a kind word or two, and he 
 left the house in a much more agreeable frame of 
 mind. On his way. home he met another member of 
 the same church, and they walked on for several 
 squares together. Soon the sermon of the preceding 
 Sabbath became the topic of conversation. 
 
 " How did you like it ?" said Mr. A. — the hero of 
 our sketch. 
 
 " Pretty well," said Mr. B., hesitating somewhat ; 
 " but didn't you think it was rather personal ?" 
 
 : ' Yes," replied the other, somewhat confused — and 
 the old suspicion immediately coming back — " I did. 
 
IMAGINARY EVILS AND GRIEVANCES. 241 
 
 It was too much so — entirely too much so — clergy- 
 men should be more careful." 
 
 1 ' You are right — very right" — r ej oined Mr. B., 
 warming up — " every member of the congregation 
 was insulted by such a discourse." 
 
 " Yes, yes — but (looking into the other's face with 
 timidity and apprehension) who did you think he 
 meant ?" 
 
 " Meant /" exclaimed Mr. B., " why me to be sure ; 
 who else ?" 
 
 " Ah !" said the other, his tone immediately chang- 
 ing, "you have made a mistake. I have reason to 
 know that your suspicion is wholly unfounded." 
 
 " How can you make such a statement? Who told 
 you that I was not meant ?" inquired Mr. B. 
 
 " The clergyman himself," answered the other. 
 " The truth is, I foolishly supposed that /was alluded 
 to, and have just been to the house of our pastor for 
 an explanation. He assured me that he alluded to no 
 member of the congregation, that the sermon was 
 general in its character, and that however anxious he 
 might be to reform sinners and induce the erring to 
 mend their ways, he nevertheless endeavored to keep 
 within the bounds of strict propriety, and to avoid 
 with scrupulous care, every thing like offensive per- 
 sonality." 
 
 The two friends congratulated each other upon the 
 explanation, at the same time admitted that they had 
 behaved like any but wise men in the affair, and 
 promised to act with more discretion for the future. 
 
 Are there any Mr. A.'s or Mr. B.'s among our read- 
 ers ? Are there any whose real grievances are so few, 
 that they are induced to fancy causes of unhappiness ? 
 
242 HOME FESTIVALS. 
 
 Are there any who are torturing themselves with 
 phantoms — mere creations of a morbid imagination ? 
 There are — there are — and to all such we commend 
 the following passage from a popular author : 
 
 " Come, rouse thee, sad one ! — 'tis not well 
 
 To let the spirit brood 
 Thus darkly o'er the cares that swell 
 
 Life's current to a flood. 
 As brooks, and torrents, rivers, all 
 Increase the gulf in which they fall, 
 Such thoughts, by gathering up the rills 
 Of lesser griefs, spread real ills, 
 And with their gloomy shades conceal 
 The landmarks Hope would else reveal." 
 
 irate Jfestikls. 
 
 "The rose that blooms in Sharon's vale, 
 
 And scents the purple morning's breath, 
 May in the shades of evening fail, 
 
 And bend its crimson head in death ; 
 And fairer ones amid the tomb, 
 
 May like the blushing rose decay, 
 But still the mind — the mind shall bloom, 
 
 When time and nature fade away ; 
 And then, amid a holier sphere, 
 
 Where seraphs bow, with deepest awe, 
 Where sits in majesty severe, 
 
 The author of Eternal law, 
 The ransomed of the earth with joy, 
 
 Shall in their robes of beauty come, 
 And find a rest without alloy, 
 
 Amid the Christian's happy home." — Dow. 
 
 IT is a custom with many of our citizens to celebrate 
 bridal, birthday, or kindred anniversaries, and on 
 such occasions to call around them the members of 
 their families, for the purpose of interchanging acts of 
 
 
HOME FESTIVALS. 243 
 
 kindness, strengthening the ties of consanguinity, and 
 cementing the bonds of friendship and affection. The 
 custom is a good one, and is fraught with happy, 
 social, and moral consequences. Life is greatly sweet- 
 ened by such means, household virtues are encouraged, 
 gentle affections are fostered, and friends, relatives, 
 and home become more and more endeared. Espe- 
 cially is this habit a proper one, with the heads of 
 families whose children are sometimes scattered far 
 and wide, with varying fortunes, some in prosperity, 
 others in adversity, others borne down by affliction, 
 and others again elevated into positions of power and 
 importance. It is a happy thing to see such a family 
 reunite occasionally round the parent hearth, to 
 notice " the return to its bosom of beloved members,'' 
 and see them paying a joint tribute of respect and of 
 regard to the gray-headed parents, who cannot, in the 
 common course of nature, remain much longer among 
 the children of men. The feelings of the heart, the 
 ties of kindred, the associations of home, all the milder 
 humanities of our nature, all that grew with us in our 
 childhood and became part of our character, before we 
 mingled in the pecuniary or ambitious struggles of the 
 world, should be revived, brought back, and kept fresh 
 by every fitting means in our power. Let us become 
 cold and dead to these associations, and we shall also 
 grow torpid and indifferent to the finer and purer ele- 
 ments of our nature. Let the affections of the heart 
 be trodden out — let the recollections of youth fail to 
 excite emotion — let the songs, the sounds and the 
 companions of our earlier days be regarded as idle, 
 worthless, and unimportant, and we shall have changed 
 
 our very nature — and in most cases for the worse. 
 15 
 
244 HOME FESTIVALS. 
 
 It has been beautifully said that " the grand natural 
 feature of northern life, is a conquered winter. And 
 this applies equally to life individually, to family life, 
 and to that of individual persons. It so readily freezes 
 and grows stiff — snow so soon falls upon the "heart ; 
 and Winter makes his power felt as much within as 
 without the house. In order to keep it warm within 
 — in order that life may flourish and grow, it is need- 
 ful to preserve the holy fire ever burning. Love must 
 not turn to ashes or die out. If it do, then all is labor 
 and heaviness, and one may as well do nothing but 
 sleep. But, if fire be borrowed from Heaven, this will 
 not happen , then our house and heart will be warm, 
 and life bloom incessantly, and a thousand cares will 
 become rich sources of joy to all." Ambition, with 
 its giddiest heights and its greenest laurels, cannot 
 compare in its enjoyments with those pure and holier 
 emotions which have their source in {he deeper and 
 warmer wells of the heart. Wealth and its influence 
 may purchase and achieve much, but it cannot bring 
 back truth and sensibility, cannot excite those extatic 
 sensations which live only amid the atmosphere of 
 home joys, and in the exercise of the purer sensibili- 
 ties. The heart is in many cases too much neglected. 
 The world is artificial and hollow, and much of the 
 glitter, and pomp, and parade which excite the envy 
 and dazzle the imagination of the superficial and the 
 idle, is not based upon those true and sublime enjoy- 
 ments which spring from the kindlier feelings properly 
 directed, those gentle amenities, sensibilities and reci- 
 procities, which are to be found only within the pre- 
 cincts of a peaceful, calm, and virtuous home. 
 
 " The heart and its affections," says Tupper, " never 
 
HOME FESTIVALS. 245 
 
 die." They not only influence our destiny here, but 
 hereafter. We may have enjoyments of sense, of 
 sound, and of excitement. But these are empty and 
 hollow, compared with the delicious feelings which 
 spring from the exercise of benevolence, good-will, true 
 humanity, and sincere affection. l( Ah !" says a favorite 
 author of ours, " if we only understood how near to us 
 Providence has placed these fountains of our happi- 
 ness — if we had only understood this from the days 
 of our childhood upward, acted upon it, profited by it, 
 our lives would then seldom lead through dry wilder- 
 nesses. Happy are those children whose eyes are 
 early opened by parents and home, to the rich activity 
 of life. They will then experience what sweetness and 
 joy and peace can flow out of family relations— out 
 of the heartfelt union between brothers and sisters— 
 between parents and children, — and they will experi- 
 ence how these relations, carefully cherished in youth, 
 will become blessings for our maturer years." 
 
 Let us then cultivate these by every means in our 
 power. Let us have our innocent home festivals, 
 and occasionally call together around the generous 
 board or the family fire-side, the beings who have 
 grown up with us, under whose influence and example 
 we have become what we are, as well as the little ones 
 who look up to us with respect and affection, and 
 who, at some future period, will turn back with delight- 
 ful remembrance to the old-fashioned household 
 gatherings. 
 15 
 
%\t jMo. 
 
 "Employment saves from crime." 
 
 A DAY or two ago, while passing along one of 
 our principal streets, we heard a lad, who with 
 a companion was carrying home a piece of furniture, 
 expatiating with quite a burst of youthful eloquence 
 upon the pleasures of idleness. He pictured a con- 
 dition of independent indolence as the only true state 
 of human felicity, and amused his fellow apprentice 
 not a little with speculations as to his plans of frolic 
 and enjoyment should he ever have nothing to do — 
 should the period ever arrive when he could walk the 
 streets or lounge at the corner, according to the bent 
 of his inclination ! Alas ! for the error of the young 
 enthusiast. He had not realized the philosophy of 
 Charles Lamb, who in one of his letters says — "No 
 work is worse than overwork. I bragged formerly that 
 I could not have too much time. I have a surfeit. 
 With few years to come the days are wearisome." We 
 agree with the author of " Elia," that there is not a 
 more wretched being on earth than the mere idler — 
 the individual who has nothing to do — whose very 
 thoughts are torpid, who finds it irksome aud difficult 
 to "kill time"; and who is thus subjected to a thou- 
 sand temptations, and as many fits of nervousness and 
 ennui, who retires to rest at night, scarcely needing 
 repose, whose slumber is fitful and unrefreshing, and 
 (246) 
 
THE IDLER. 247 
 
 who wakes in the morning, and is puzzled to know 
 how to employ the hours of the day. To such, the 
 present is without enjoyment, and the future wrapped 
 in gloom. Shadowy and unhealthy fancies constantly 
 intrude, the body loses its activity, and the mind 
 suffers from the physical debility. 
 
 Some one has said truly and beautifully, that " the 
 choicest favors of Heaven are reserved for those who 
 labor." It is the destiny of man, and if he attempt to 
 war against his destiny, he will find the phantom of 
 happiness, let him seek it however earnestly, fleeting 
 further and further from his grasp. We believe with 
 a celebrated writer, that "there is no existence so con- 
 tent as that whose present is engrossed by employ- 
 ment, and whose future is filled by some strong hope, 
 the truth of which is never proved. Toil and illusion 
 are the only secrets to make life tolerable." The pur- 
 suit is every thing. Let us occupy the mind, let us 
 be engaged in the accomplishment of some cherished 
 object, and let the soul be absorbed in the delightful 
 visions connected with the promised and looked-for 
 result and triumph, and we shall be comparatively 
 happy. This doctrine will apply to almost every con- 
 dition of life. Happiness, we should remember, varies 
 according to circumstances. The man of an educated 
 and refined taste, derives enjoyment from many kinds 
 of intellectual occupation and indulgence, that would 
 seem ta^ne and wearisome to the individual of com- 
 paratively meagre and moderate acquirements. We 
 are born, moreover, with different powers, and tastes, 
 and appetites, and these again, are influenced by cii- 
 cumstances, by education, and by the society in which 
 we have moved and mingled. 
 
 We think it is James, who says, "it is a very great, 
 
248 THE IDLER. 
 
 though a very old mistake, to imagine that there is 
 the same disparity in the enjoyment of existence, as 
 in the distribution of fortune's gifts." And we believe 
 with him that the poor laborer, nine times out of 
 ten, is much happier than the rich idler. "Had 
 you," he continues, " witnessed as I have done, the 
 ennui, the dejection, the misery of the wealthy and 
 the great, you would have thought them much more 
 worthy of compassion than the plowmen who whistle 
 in their fields. And sure it is that you rarely hear 
 of a laborer committing suicide even to avoid starva- 
 tion, while many a grandee has blown out his brains 
 that he may escape from his riches, his luxuries, and 
 the intolerable wretchedness that arises from the want 
 of a want." This is all true — and as forcible as true. 
 If, therefore, we desire to be happy, let us employ 
 ourselves as usefully and profitably as possible. If, 
 in administering to our own fortunes, we can promote 
 the welfare of mankind — so much the better — for thus, 
 we shall create and enjoy a new delight. If we desire 
 to see our children glide along the path of life, in a 
 contented, cheerful and happy spirit — let us, while 
 they are young, inculcate lessons and habits of in- 
 tegrity and industry. Such habits will, in the end, 
 prove far more valuable than gold." They will furnish 
 our offspring with a constant source of independence, 
 a fountain of perpetual happiness, and at the same 
 time, prevent them from becoming idlers, drones, and 
 finally outcasts of society. The best legacy that a 
 father can leave his children, may be briefly summed 
 up thus: principles of rectitude, habits of industry, 
 cheerfulness of disposition, respect for the laws, 
 attachment to country, love of virtue, and faith in 
 Christianity. 
 
M 
 
 Spring-time of % fear. 
 
 " We pass out from the city's feverish hum, 
 
 To find refreshment in the silent woods ; 
 And nature, that is beautiful and dumb, 
 
 Like a cool sleep upon the pulses broods ; 
 Yet even there, a restless thought will steal, 
 To teach the indolent heart that it must feel." 
 
 AN" should go forth into the fields and valleys 
 during the early months of Spring, when all 
 
 " is blooming and benevolent." 
 
 The season when — 
 
 " From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, 
 Led by the breeze the vivid verdure runs, 
 And swells and deepens to the cherish'd eye. 
 The garden glows and fills the liberal air 
 With lavish fragrance ; while the promised fruit 
 Lies yet a little embryo, unperceived, 
 Within its crimson folds. Now from the town 
 Buried in smoke and sleep and noisome damps, 
 Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, 
 Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops 
 From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze 
 Of sweetbriar hedges I pursue my walk." 
 
 We should shake off city associations, the hum and 
 din of the busy multitude with their thousand avoca- 
 tions, and linger for a few hours among pure, calm, 
 quiet, heart-touching and spirit-elevating scenes. The 
 student should throw aside his books, and go forth to 
 inhale the fresh and health-inspiring atmosphere — 
 The toiler in cities should hurry away from the sound 
 of the nammer, the forge and the loom, and, wandering 
 for a few miles into the country, pause, amid the 
 groves, 
 
 "God's first temples," 
 
 (249) 
 
250 THE SPRING-TIME OF THE YEAR 
 
 and there give utterance to thoughts, feelings and as- 
 pirations, that will not harmonize and are not con- 
 genial with brick walls, narrow streets, circumscribed 
 views, and all the turmoil and confusion of the work- 
 ing-day world of a great commercial city. The heart 
 must be cold, dull and torpid that is not melted and 
 subdued, as well as awed and excited into religious 
 admiration by a communion with nature, — by a survey 
 of the outspread and picturesque scenes of rural life, — 
 valley, slope and meadow, cottage and farm, gliding 
 stream and browsing cattle, tall hills and thickly 
 foliaged woods, the bright, blue sky bending above, 
 and not a sound breaking upon the ear, save the carol 
 of a bird, the hum of an insect, or the echo of some 
 distant movement of man or vehicle. It is at such 
 times and amid such scenes, that we not only feel the 
 divinity within us, but that we see the hand of the 
 Creator in many a visible form — from the modest, 
 lowly and beautiful flower that we crush beneath our" 
 feet, to the broad and blazing luminary of day, as he 
 holds his onward course in the heavens. 
 
 While we see and feel these influences, moreover, — 
 while the Maker of Heaven and of Earth is present, as 
 it were, in all his works — while so broad and compre- 
 hensive a view is before us, our own comparative in- 
 significance in the scale of creation is felt and appreci- 
 ated — the perishing things of mere earthly pursuits 
 are recognized and acknowledged — the spirit wanders 
 forth on the wings of Thought, of Hope and of Faith, 
 and the belief steals upon us that if the vital power is 
 regulated year after year, upon the face of the 
 earth, in the grass-blade, in the forest, and in the many 
 teeming forms of nature, — so also will there come 
 
THE SPRING-TIME OF THE YEAR. 251 
 
 another life to man's existence, and the frail dust of his 
 mortality will assume a brighter and a purer shape, 
 and be animated with a new existence by the same 
 master-hand that garnishes so beautifully year after 
 year, the fields, the forests and the flowers. It is 
 good to go forth occasionally, to refresh our minds 
 and hearts by communing with Nature. Amid the 
 noise and bustle of the crowd, our views are apt to 
 become narrow and limited. We are apt to grow 
 worldly and mercenary — to fancy that our life is con- 
 fined to ceitain objects of every- day pursuit and occu- 
 pation, that gain in a monetary sense, is the chief end of 
 man — that fashion is a subject of deep and grave im- 
 portance — that a peculiar kind of dress is essential — 
 in short we become artificial beings, living in an arti- 
 ficial atmosphere, and governed and influenced by the 
 customs, habits, and regulations of the little circle to 
 which we are confined, either by our business or by 
 our position in society. If we discharge our ordinary 
 duties, we are disposed to fancy that we are living up 
 to all our obligations, and are pursuing the course 
 suited as well for this world as the next. And yet, 
 these scenes and circumstances become dull, formal and 
 without proper influence upon us, from their regularity, 
 and the little feeling and reflection they excite. But 
 let us be brought more immediately in connection with 
 the Creator and his works — more directly in the 
 presence of the Deity, let us on the ocean 
 
 " See God in clouds and hear him in the wind," 
 
 — let us wander by the rock-bound shore, and gaze 
 out upon an interminable range of sea and sky — steal 
 away from the crowded city, hold communion with 
 
252 THE YOUNG HEIR. 
 
 Nature in her many aspects in the country, and as we 
 examine the various processes of vegetation, and see 
 the bursting bud, the opening leaf, the blooming flower, 
 trace the hand of Deity in many a delicate, beneficent 
 and godlike work. Thus we shall feel that the same 
 Omnipotent Power that orders and accomplishes a 
 change of seasons, 
 
 '• Wheels the silent spheres, 
 Works in the chambers of the deep," 
 
 and sustains the life of man, is capable of elevating the 
 frailness of humanity to a higher, holier, and happier 
 state of being — a condition where there shall be per- 
 petual Spring — eternal youth — 
 
 " Life undecaying— love without alloy, 
 Pare flowing joy— and happiness sincere." 
 
 %\t foung par; ox, it perils of \ 
 
 «' Plant Virtue, and Content's the Fruit." 
 
 " He that holds fast the golden mean, 
 And lives contentedly between 
 
 The little and the great, 
 Feels not the wants that pinch the poor, 
 Nor plagues that haunt the rich man's door, 
 Embittering all his state." — Covyper's Horace. 
 
 WE recently chanced to be among a circle of 
 friends, when intelligence was announced that 
 an acquaintance had just fallen heir to an immense 
 fortune — a fortune large enough to yield an income of 
 at least twenty thousand dollars per annum. The con- 
 
THE YOUNG HEIR. 253 
 
 versation immediately became quite animated, and 
 almost every one uttered an expression of scarcely 
 concealed envy, at what seemed to be considered as the 
 remarkably good luck of the happy heir. One indi- 
 vidual, however, took a more thoughtful and ad- 
 monitory view of the subject, and said that while " he 
 hoped that the recipient of so large an estate would 
 prove worthy of it— would prove competent to wrestle 
 with and triumph over the temptations of prosperity, such 
 a task, nevertheless, required more than an ordinary 
 effort. Adversity," — he continued, — "is the lot of 
 man. There are none of us who have not experienced 
 it in some degree, — none who have not suffered, — 
 none who have not been disappointed. And hence, as 
 step by step we progress in the journey of life, we be- 
 come fitted for the perils and vicissitudes which 
 surround its path. Not so, however, with the suddenly 
 enriched. They are not only apt to forget themselves, 
 their powers and responsibilities, but their duties and 
 accountability to Providence ; and hence they rush on 
 blindly and madly, until admonished by sickness or 
 calamity, or overwhelmed by profligacy and dissipa- 
 tion. The fortunate individual just alluded to, is yet 
 quite young. He knows little of himself and less of 
 the world. He has experienced few trials, been sub- 
 jected to few temptations. Naturally kind-hearted 
 and well-disposed, he is at the present moment, doubt- 
 less, full of generous and benevolent views, and deter- 
 mined so to expend his surplus income, as shall prove 
 that he understands his position and responsibilities, 
 and has proper sympathies for his fellow-men. Never- 
 theless, even thus early in his career of wealth, visions 
 of vanity, pomp and pride occasionally float before his 
 
254 THE YOUNG HEIR. 
 
 imagination, parasites and false friends whisper adula- 
 tion into his ears, and he finds it difficult to resist 
 advice which seems to be given from motives of a 
 truly and purely disinterested character. And here 1 
 pause," said the thoughtful observer, "lest I should 
 be considered a croaker ; and still it is right that I 
 should add that in this matter, I speak in some degree 
 from experience. I was left a handsome fortune before 
 I was twenty- one years of age. The consequence was, 
 that I became idle, dissolute, prodigal — and before I 
 reached thirty I was a beggar, nay, worse. I had con- 
 tracted habits which I found very difficult to shake off. 
 Still I was young, in tolerable health, rallied, made a 
 vigorous effort, and after a bitter and fearful struggle 
 of one or two years, escaped the' shoals and quicksands 
 by which I was surrounded. Prosperity unmanned 
 me, made me a lounger, an idler, and a drone in 
 society. Adversity gave a new impulse to my nature, 
 called forth all the energies that I possessed, and I 
 gradually recovered respectability and competence. 
 Hence, gentlemen, it is my philosophy, that sudden 
 wealth is often dangerous. It dazzles, bewilders, mis- 
 leads, and sometimes destroys." 
 
 Again. Some days since, in conversation with one 
 of our best citizens, whose history was not entirely un- 
 known to us, we ventured to ask a question as to his 
 past career, present position and prospects. He replied 
 cheerfully and frankly. Soon after having served out 
 his time in one of the most flourishing mercantile es- 
 tablishments in Front street, he received an offer to 
 enter into an active and extensive business with a 
 partner, accepted it, and for a few years was eminently 
 successful. But his partner was somewhat sanguine 
 
THE YOUNG HEIR. 255 
 
 and extravagant in his notions, and not being satisfied 
 with making rnoney in the ordinary way, ventured 
 largely into speculations in stocks, lands, and every 
 other uncertain bubble. The result was a failure, and 
 a deficit in the firm of something like thirty thousand 
 dollars. Our friend, who had not been privy to these 
 speculations, was for a time stunned and overwhelmed. 
 He knew not what to do. But a few friends seeing 
 that he was the innocent victim of another's folly, 
 waited upon him, counselled and assisted him, and he 
 proceeded onward. Ten years have gone by ; he has 
 liquidated a large portion of the indebtedness of the 
 old firm, his business is sound but moderate, his posi- 
 tion as a man of integrity is undoubted, his credit is 
 good, his prospects are fair. But more and better than 
 all, the apparent adversity was, in fact, a blessing in 
 disguise, for the effect was to render him not only cau- 
 tious, prudent, and upright, but also moral and religous, 
 and thus a converted man. He lost a few thousand dol- 
 lars for the time, but he won an imperishable blessing — 
 secured that which will brighten his pathway here, 
 and strengthen his hopes of a glorious hereafter. 
 
 The truth is, trial and temptation, suffering and sor- 
 row are but features and phases of our allotted condi- 
 tion in life. Sudden success is rarely unaccompanied 
 by some snadow in the distance. It is our destiny to 
 toil, and while the rewards of labor are in most cases 
 comfort and contentment, if not independence; wealth, 
 when rapidly or wrongfully acquired, is seldom unac- 
 companied by some disadvantage or drawback. A 
 celebrated writer argues that "if the great fortunes 
 wliich dazzle the misguiding, be analyzed, they will 
 be found, in ninety-nine out of every hundred cases, to 
 
256 THE YOUNG HEIR. 
 
 have sprung and matured from calm, patient, and 
 simple toil, which had an endurance and faith behind, 
 and an object and hope before it. So, too, with suc- 
 cess, in whatever man seeks to accomplish. A clown 
 may stumble upon a splendid discovery in art or sci- 
 ence, but a fixed general law provides that high 
 achievement shall require profound and ceaseless 
 labor. The price of success, in isolated cases, is the 
 devotion of one's life. He is a fool who trusts to any 
 dream for possession or advancement, unless he con- 
 nects with it the prudent exercise of his own energy 
 and judgment. The little spring in the mountain rock 
 becomes a brook, a torrent, a wide rolling river, and 
 a part of the fathomless ocean, simply by pushing 
 steadily and bravely forward." 
 
 Again, there are few in life or society who have not 
 a secret sorrow, who are not troubled with some 
 care, of which the world has no knowledge or suspi- 
 cion. Only yesterday, a friend pointed out to us a 
 citizen, who is eminent by virtue, by talent, and by 
 wealth, and accompanied the act with some remark as 
 to the happy condition of such a man ! He little knew 
 that the object of his envy was then and has for years 
 been laboring under a disease which at times nearly 
 maddens him by its pain — a disease, too, which is in- 
 curable, and is therefore a constant source of anxiety, 
 not to say anguish. No ! there is nothing perfect this 
 side the grave. There is no human being whose life 
 is one long day of sunshine. The true philosophy is 
 contentment — contentment with our condition, what- 
 ever it may be. Let us better it if we can — nay, it is 
 our duty to strive for its improvement, at all times 
 and at all seasons, firmly and honestly, with reliance 
 
THE INVALID. 257 
 
 upon our own resources, and faith in hope, effort, and 
 Providence. And let us, also, when disposed to be 
 moody and dissatisfied, and to envy the well-filled 
 coffers of a neighbor or a friend, remember that money 
 is not happiness — nay, that it often allures to ruin. 
 "Happy are they," in the language of another, "whose 
 middle station and competent means save them from 
 the temptation of want and riches. For it is a curious 
 fact, that either extreme fosters the animal instinct of 
 selfishness. Abject poverty ! Oh, how easy it is to 
 understand that its daily pressing wants and corroding 
 cares must narrow the sympathies to self, and dull the 
 human mind to all those nobler emotions which are 
 its rightful heritage ! And yet experience proves that 
 the other extreme of enervating luxury has an equally 
 demoralizing tendency, creating factitious wants and 
 troubles, which are almost as hard to be borne as real 
 
 (% |ntal&— Sitktss anb jdttjr. 
 
 " I was sick, and ye visited me." 
 
 WE some days since met with an esteemed friend, 
 who had just made his appearance in the out- 
 door world, after a confinement of several weeks to a 
 bed of sickness and of pain. He was pale, thin and 
 languid, and exhibited a striking contrast to his con- 
 dition a short time before; and this not only with 
 reference to the physical man, but to the mental, and 
 
258 THE INVALID. 
 
 in some sense to the moral. He had been seized with 
 a dangerous illness for the first time since he had 
 attained the years of manhood, and thus while he 
 lingered for hours and for days on the verge of the 
 grave, and felt that his strength was gradually wasting 
 away, he was induced as well to ponder deeply and 
 thoughtfully upon the instability of human life — the 
 feeble and uncertain condition of man, as upon the in- 
 estimable value of the blessing of health — a blessing 
 that he had more than once misappreciated and trifled 
 with. His reflections, as he conversed with us, were 
 quite solemn and philosophical. He was grateful, deeply 
 grateful for his recovery, felt that he was unfitted to be 
 called away, and was resolved to re-enter the busy 
 scenes of life, a better and a wiser man. How many 
 have determined in a similar manner, under like cir- 
 cumstances, and how few in their after hours of active 
 life, physical vigor and abounding prosperity, have re- 
 membered the resolutions of the sick bed, and acted 
 them out truthfully and faithfully ! It is only when 
 we are stopped midway in a career of pleasure, of 
 profit or ambition — when we are checked on some 
 lofty ascent as by an unseen hand, that we are induced 
 to pause, look around us, duly consider our position, 
 and ask ourselves a few searching questions. A sick- 
 bed is sometimes fruitful of much good. It at once 
 admonishes and alarms. It induces us to turn inward, 
 as well as to look above and beyond the ordinary 
 movements of every day life, and to glance into th.it 
 dim and mysterious future, " when the curtain shall 
 be lifted," when the soul shall part from the body, 
 "when the mortal shall put on the immortal," and 
 soar or sink, according to its relative purity or im- 
 
THE INVALID. 259 
 
 purity, its virtue or its vice. The multitude, too, 
 when in the almost constant enjoyment of the in- 
 estimable blessing of health, are too apt to consider 
 that " all men are mortal but themselves ;" to believe 
 that they have an extraordinary lease upon life, and 
 to turn from death — although it may be in their very 
 neighborhood, as if they were above and beyond all 
 accountability ; and that while it is natural for others 
 to descend into the " narrow house," they at least have 
 nothing to apprehend, nothing to guard against. This 
 is the disposition when without an ache or a pain, tiiey 
 mingle in gay, in dissolute scenes, and almost invite dis- 
 ease. But, let them be prostrated suddenly, let them be 
 enfeebled by some raging fever, paralyzed by some sud- 
 den shock, agonized by some mysterious inward dis- 
 organization, and then, how striking the change ! The 
 strong man becomes as weak and helpless as a child, 
 the bold spirit is subdued, the firm will and the stout 
 heart are compelled to yield, and the real value of 
 health, its priceless worth, its power and its influence 
 are duly considered. Then it is that all the vanities 
 of the world sink into nothing by comparison. Then 
 it is that the empty pleasures and the heartless dis- 
 sipations are regarded with penitence, if not disgust. 
 Then it is that the accountability of man to God is 
 duly appreciated and considered. Then it is that 
 solemn thoughts crowd upon the mind, broken prom- 
 ises rush back upon the memory, sins of omission and 
 commission appear in vivid array before the excited 
 imagination. Then it is that the subdued, the broken 
 and the contrite spirit turns to the Great Source of 
 consolation, and then is forgiveness asked and amend- 
 ment promised. A better life is resolved upon. The 
 16 
 
260 THE INVALID. 
 
 
 thoughts assume a meditative, a solemn and a religious 
 cast, the chances and changes of fortune are duly esti- 
 mated ; the world, its realities and its accountabilities 
 adequately appreciated ; and the true nature of human 
 things, earthly projects and mortal enterprises, are 
 weighed in the balance, are contrasted and compared 
 with the acts that will not perish, with the things of 
 eternity. It is thus that sickness is made useful, if 
 not essential. It at once persuades and subdues. It 
 shows the imperfection of man, and his dependence 
 upon the Creator. It touches his heart, it stimulates 
 his sensibility, it exhibits his weakness, and it induces 
 him to bound his wishes, his desires and his appetites, 
 and to remember his accountability. At this moment, 
 how many of the meritorious poor, how many of the 
 unfortunate, the misguided and the neglected, are lan- 
 guishing upon beds of anguish, and have been so lan- 
 guishing for weeks or months ! Alas ! for their suffer- 
 ings, especially if they have no friends to pour into 
 their ears the words of hope and of consolation, if they 
 have no loving hands to wipe the sweat of agony from 
 their foreheads, if they have no ministering angels to 
 hover around their pillows, to Watch each changing 
 movement with anxiety and affection. It is sad 
 enough for the affluent to be thus prostrated and thus 
 to suffer ; but when without all the assistance, comfort 
 and attention that money and friends can command, 
 the physical nature is bowed down, and the physical 
 man is made to writhe with agony, the blessing of 
 health may indeed be adequately appreciated. Let 
 all who are in its enjoyment, endeavor to preserve it 
 and be grateful; and when by any chance or circum- 
 stance, the case of an unfortunate invalid is presented, 
 
THE POWER Oj? HABIT. 261 
 
 one who is suffering under the combined ills of sick 
 ness and poverty, let them manifest the noblest im 
 pulses of sympathy, not only by words ; but by deeds, 
 not merely by empty and hollow pretence, but by 
 real, positive and prompt consolation and assistance. 
 Then, indeed, will they realize the advantages of their 
 own position, and manifest a spirit of appreciation, 
 benevolence and gratitude, by acting out the part of 
 the Good Samaritan. 
 
 t f otor of jabit; or, % hk Waxte 
 of 
 
 "At first distasteful, it at last became his master." 
 
 THE power of habit is, in many cases, irresistible. 
 Thousands of individuals are at this moment 
 rapidly hastening to the grave, in consequence of the 
 indulgence of some vile taste, and who, fully aware of 
 the fact, are still unable to control or restrain them- 
 selves. "They resolve, and re-resolve, and die the 
 same." They have their moments of sanity, penitence 
 and determination, and at such times, seeing the fatal 
 course they are pursuing, they reason calmly with 
 themselves, and promise amendment and reform. But 
 the temptation is too powerful, the habit is too fixed, 
 and thus they violate all that they had determined 
 upon, and rush on as blindly as ever. This is espe- 
 cially the case with the victims of intemperance. 
 16 
 
262 THE POWER OF HABIT. 
 
 They feel that they are descending in the scale of 
 humanity day by day— they know that a premature 
 grave is before them — they determine to abate or 
 abandon the intoxicating bowl, but the habit has be- 
 come a master and a tyrant, and they lack the nerve 
 to break the bonds in which they are bound. 
 
 And so ; also, with many other vile habits. That 
 of idleness may be referred to. It creeps upon the 
 mind and the body slowly, until at last it enervates, 
 deteriorates and vitiates. The idler fancies, at first, 
 that he will never come to harm, that his principles 
 are too sound, his integrity too reliable. Nevertheless, 
 as the mind relaxes, and the body is enfeebled, so also 
 does the moral nature lose its firmness, and become 
 liable to temptation and to vice. If the real histories 
 of the inmates of our almshouses and our penitentiaries 
 could be ascertained, idleness would be found as the 
 source of many a downward career, many an evil pro- 
 pensity, and many a fallen fortune. 
 
 The habit of scandal is also base, criminal and 
 dangerous. It increases with the meat it feeds on. It 
 grows from day to day and from year to year, until, 
 at last, it becomes a feature of the moral and social 
 nature, in some sense, a necessity of existence. And 
 yet the wretched calumniator is often unaware of the 
 extent to which he indulges in the propensity. He 
 cannot realize his own bitterness and recklessness of 
 thought and tongue. Scandal is his element. He re- 
 joices in its atmosphere and exults in its victims. His 
 appetite is keen and impatient, he seeks for new sub- 
 jects, and is never at home or happy, unless some 
 mangled or bleeding character is writhing beneath his 
 assaults. The penalty is dreadful in the end, for 
 
THE POWER OF HABIT. 263 
 
 sooner or later, in all such, cases, the retribution is at 
 once certain and fearful. 
 
 But the power of habit is extraordinary and almost 
 incredible. A celebrated writer affirms that " tobacco 
 is used among no less than eight hundred millions 
 of men." Opium and other drugs also have their 
 millions of devotees. The craving for such narcotics, 
 and the habit of gratifying it, are described as little 
 less universal than the desire for and the practice of 
 consuming the necessary material of our common 
 food." "What a commentary upon habit! But the 
 story of Coleridge, the celebrated poet, and that of De 
 Quincy, the far-famed English opium-eater, are still 
 more striking illustrations, and full of admonition. 
 At first, too, the indulgence in tobacco is distasteful. 
 It is used with disgust, and produces nausea. Never- 
 theless, persisted in and adhered to, and an appetite is 
 engendered of the most extraordinary character. So, 
 too, with regard to opium. And so also in relation to 
 ardent spirits. There are few individuals who have a 
 natural taste for either of these ; and yet the acquired 
 taste creates a habit, which masters not only the appe- 
 tite, but the mind, and absolutely overwhelms the 
 moral nature. An individual, moreover, on being 
 told at first the danger of these fascinating soothers and 
 exciters, will ridicule the possibility of their ever 
 becoming a necessity, and treat the idea of over- 
 indulgence with derision and contempt. Neverthe- 
 less, as is well known, the victims may be counted by 
 thousands, nay, by millions. The slaves of excess in 
 one form or another, of tobacco, of opium, of alcohol, 
 not to mention many other tempting narcotics, may 
 be found in all portions of the earth, among the rude 
 
264 THE POWER OF HABIT. 
 
 
 as well as the civilized, among the haughty as well as 
 the humble — ia the palace of the prince and in the 
 hut of the peasant. Such is poor human nature. " "We 
 are indeed feeble creatures, small in bodily strength, 
 and a grain of opium will conquer or a few drops of 
 laudanum lay us prostrate. But how much weaker 
 in mind, when knowing the evils they lead to, we are 
 unable to resist the fascinating temptations of these in- 
 sidious drugs." And so with regard to alcohol. There 
 is scarcely a family in the land that has not suffered 
 or is not suffering. Some of the loftiest intellects have 
 yielded, some of the noblest hearts have fallen before 
 the demon of intemperance. Homes have been made 
 desolate, fortunes have been impaired, reputations 
 have been sullied. This is, perhaps, the most fatal 
 and fearful of all the unfortunate habits of our country. 
 Yet it is but a habit — one that steals upon its victim 
 like a thief in the night, gradually mastering, control- 
 ling, fascinating and destroying. It appeals, too, to all 
 the exciting and intoxicating senses, and while it 
 whispers of heaven and its beatific enjoyments, it 
 hurries on to the darkness, the desolation, the guilt 
 and the anguish of that "lower deep" from which the 
 mind and the soul recoil with horror. 
 
"When pain and anguish wring the brow, 
 A ministering angel thou !" 
 
 THE duties of a physician are always arduous and 
 responsible, but they are especially so in seasons 
 of pestilence. A young man who, in the commence- 
 ment of life, and after due reflection, determines to 
 devote himself to the Medical Profession, must be im- 
 bued in some degree with the genuine spirit of 
 humanity. The calling is a lofty one in an intel- 
 lectual point of view, and it is also a benevolent. It 
 looks to the mitigation of human suffering, to the re- 
 lief of bodily anguish, to the restoration of physical 
 health, and to the many happy associations connected 
 therewith. There are some, it is to be apprehended, 
 who venture into this high profession without due 
 reflection, and indeed without possessing the necessary 
 qualifications. Such persons do not consider that they 
 will be called upon to deal in some sense with the 
 lives of human beings, to wrestle with disease in many 
 forms, and to contend against the approaches of even 
 death itself. But a physician who thoroughly under- 
 stands his art, and devotes himself to it, not only in a 
 spirit of enlightened science, but of generous and 
 sympathetic humanity, is not only one of the most 
 useful members of society, but he often becomes a 
 ministering angel. Nay, he frequently is afforded an 
 
 (265) 
 
266 THE PHYSICIAN 
 
 opportunity of soothing and healing the "wounds of 
 the mind, as well as those of the body, and of thus 
 cheering and reviving the mental and moral as well 
 as the physical nature. 
 
 The profession is, in many respects, one of the most 
 exhausting of all the occupations of man. He who 
 devotes himself to it, is expected to be ready at all hours 
 and all seasons, amid sunshine and storm, at midday and 
 at midnight, as well in the sultry heats of summer, as 
 in the piercing blasts of winter. At times too, be he 
 however skillful, however experienced, however clear 
 of head and firm of hand, the anxieties and responsi- 
 bilities of the post must weigh fearfully, and he must 
 hesitate lest there should be any error in his judgment, 
 an error that might prove fatal to his patient. The 
 regularly educated medical man, one who feels that 
 he is a thorough master of the science, one who under- 
 stands the anatomy of the human frame, and has de- 
 voted himself for years and years to the acquisition 
 of a thorough knowledge of his business, is, of course^ 
 rarely troubled with the hesitation and apprehension 
 to which we have referred. But in this country, ancf 
 in almost every other, there are many who undertake 
 to discharge the duties of a physician, who are not 
 duly qualified — who, in fact, and for the most part, 
 are mere empirics and pretenders, and hence they fre- 
 quently prescribe rashly, injudiciously, nay, some- 
 times fatally. This is indeed a fearful piece of pre- 
 sumption, and may be said to involve indirect murder. 
 The responsibility of the medical office may, therefore, 
 be duly inferred. We can conceive of nothing more 
 solenn. The t:ue physician, when somewhat per- 
 
THE PHYSICIAN. 267 
 
 plexed in relation to the condition of his patient, will 
 seek through every possible avenue of information, 
 will consult not only his hooks, but other practitioners 
 of experience ; and thus in the multitude of counsellor 
 endeavor to discover a safe course of treatment. He 
 will naturally feel that the life of a human being is in 
 his hands, and he will govern his conduct accordingly. 
 The false physician, the empiric and the pretender, 
 must harden his heart, deaden his sensibilities, and 
 blind himself to all the grave responsibilities of his 
 position, for it is only under such circumstances that 
 he will be able to summon courage enough to move 
 straight forward in a path which to him is often one of 
 mystery, and which to the invalid whose case is confided 
 to his keeping, may prove one of premature death. 
 
 It is, however, in the hour of pestilence, and when 
 the members of a whole community are panic-stricken, 
 that the faculties of the medical man are taxed to the 
 utmost, that his moral courage is tested, and his capa- 
 city for the profession is fully put to the trial. It is 
 every way honorable to the profession, that at such 
 times, it rarely occurs that a regularly educated phy- 
 sician fails or falters in his duty. Within a few years 
 we have been called upon to record many laudable 
 instances of fidelity — fidelity which closed in martyr- 
 dom and in death. In the city of Savannah, some 
 of the noblest spirits of the profession were swept 
 away. So also at New Orleans, at Charleston, and at 
 Pittsburg. Nay, we have not heard of a single in- 
 stance of dereliction from the path of duty, of moral 
 cowardice, of disgraceful flight. A profession, there- 
 fore, whose members, one and all, remain firm and 
 true under such circumstances, who take their lives 
 
268 THE PHYSICIAN. 
 
 in their hands, and brave death in its most appalling 
 form, is indeed, an honor to humanity. All pecuniary 
 reward is as nothing at such a critical moment. The 
 sense of duty is the impelling and controlling motive, 
 a sense that is identified with the profession, and a 
 departure from which would be regarded, not only 
 with censure, but with surprise and indignation. It 
 is stated that one of the physicians of Pittsburg made 
 no less than ninety visits during twenty -four hours of 
 a single week, while several others were so exhausted 
 by their labors, as to render it necessary to adopt some 
 artificial means to enable them to remain at their 
 posts. And such, indeed, is the history of the medical 
 profession throughout the country. All honor, there- 
 fore, to an avocation that is distinguished by such 
 true humanity. It is, indeed, an easy thing to rejoice 
 with the prosperous, to sympathize with the affluent, 
 and to associate with the robust. But when sickness 
 and death are abroad, when pestilence and epidemic 
 are striking down victim after victim, when the hearse 
 passes from door to door, and the emblems of mourn- 
 ing are to be seen in every street, it requires more 
 than an ordinary effort of courage and resolution, to 
 contend against the feebleness and the fears of poor 
 human nature, and hence the conduct of the physicians 
 of the land, such as we have described it, is entitled 
 to appreciation, to remark, and to eulogy. Let us at 
 least show the noble profession that we hold it at its 
 true value, that we understand all its responsibilities, 
 and that we can admire as well the moral heroism 
 that is displayed in the city of pestilence, as in the 
 chivalrio exploits of the battle-field. Kay, measured 
 in the scale of humanity, and the former rises im- 
 
FORETHOUGHT. 269 
 
 measurably beyond the most brilliant exploits of even 
 military genius. One seeks to restore — the other to 
 destroy — one to sustain and protract life — the other to 
 trample out that, which no human being can bring 
 back. One is godlike and truly benevolent — the 
 other, alas! is often disfigured by passion, excitement, 
 violence and blood ! 
 
 j0ret|oHg|t; or, f 00k before §011 feajj. 
 
 THEEE is, perhaps, no quality more essential to 
 success in life than forethought. And yet there 
 is no quality which by the masses is so generally dis- 
 regarded. This is especially the case with the people 
 of this country. They misapply the apothegm, that 
 sufficient for the clay is the evil thereof. They live 
 only for the present, and take no heed for the morrow. 
 And hence it is that so many experience disappoint- 
 ment, and faint and fail by the way. In ordinary 
 cases, and when an individual sets out on a journey, 
 calculated to occupy a week or a fortnight, he makes 
 due preparations, and provides himself not only with 
 the means of going, but of returning. With reference 
 to the great journey of life, this prudent system is 
 rarely adopted. The multitude rush on thoughtlessly 
 and seem willing to trust to chance, rather than to 
 provide against dangers and emergencies. The results 
 in too many cases are deplorable. The exercise of 
 forethought is essential daily and hourly. There is 
 
270 FORETHOUGHT. 
 
 scarcely an individual, who at the close of a week, 
 cannot on a review of the past, discover sad errors of 
 omission or commission, forgotten or perpetrated, for 
 want of a little forethought. How many wretched 
 beings are now suffering within the walls of our 
 Penitentiaries, who on cool reflection are able to trace 
 their errors and misdoings to a rash and inconsiderate 
 spirit, or in other words, to a want of due reflection 
 and forethought. And so, indeed, throughout every 
 phase and condition of society. Only a few days since, 
 in a neighboring city, two cousins who had long been 
 on the most intimate terms of friendship and affection, 
 entered into an argument which resulted in blows. 
 The excitement was but momentary, and reason sood 
 resumed her empire. Then both were deeply morti- 
 fied, and while eacfk admitted that he was hot and 
 hasty, each also conceded that a moment's considera- 
 tion and forethought would have prevented an occur- 
 rence, to which they will refer with pain and mortifi- 
 cation for years. But even in our daily interviews 
 and conversations, some degree of forethought should 
 be exercised. There are some individuals who are 
 naturally flippant. They jest and mock, even with 
 Death himself standing by. The misfortunes of a 
 neighbor, or the afflictions of a friend, are made topics 
 of heartless remark or malignant insinuation. This is 
 a sad habit, and one that is calculated to produce 
 infinite mischief. Nothing perhaps is so sensitive 
 as credit and character, and the individual who in- 
 dulges in idle scandal upon such topics, may inflict an 
 injury which a life time of apology and repentance 
 may not wholly retrieve. The familiar but celebrated 
 passage of the Bard of Avon, in which he alludes to 
 
FORETHOUGHT. 271 
 
 reputation as of priceless value, and far more import- 
 ant than gold, is full of force and pith, and should be 
 treasured at once as a truth and an admonition. The 
 miserable beings who delight in fabricating and circu- 
 lating false reports, who, in fact, gloat over the ruin 
 of their fellow- creatures, are a disgrace to humanity. 
 They are criminals of the vilest kind, and yet, in many 
 cases, they cannot be reached and adequately punished, 
 because of their very insignificance. Their thoughts 
 are bent on mischief. A malignant demon seems to 
 have taken possession of their minds and hearts, and 
 they rarely lose an opportunity of fabricating a scandal. 
 There are others again, who are the causes of much 
 injury, because they can not or will not consider. 
 They have no forethought. They talk loosely and 
 rapidly, and they delight in running from point to 
 point, and circulating evil tidings. A terrible infirmity, 
 and one that should be punished, whenever an oppor- 
 tunity presents. How many difficulties would be es- 
 caped, how many disasters would be avoided, how 
 many families would be spared days and nights of 
 anxiety and pain, and how many friendships would be 
 strengthened, by the exercise of a little forethought ! 
 And what, gentle reader, is YOUR case ? What con- 
 trol have you over your tongue, your mind, or your 
 pen ? Are you rash, reckless and imprudent — or are 
 you calm, cool, deliberate and thoughtful? Are you 
 in the habit of thinking before you speak, or of speak- 
 ing first, and then thinking afterward ? These are 
 questions which you can answer for yourself; and 
 whatever the answer may be, we earnestly urge and 
 admonish, that in all future transactions of life, you 
 endeavor to exercise the policy, the prudence, and the 
 
272 FORBEARANCE. 
 
 virtue of a little forethought. Such a course can- 
 not do harm, and it may obviate difficulties. " Look 
 before you leap" — is an old adage, but it is sensible, 
 practical and wise. 
 
 Jiotafitttr-; |ts $ hint aito its Jdajj. 
 
 I was sad, and he comforted me.' 
 
 FORBEARANCE is a virtue that cannot be too 
 constantly practiced. Human nature is frail and 
 infirm, and scarcely a day goes by in which errors 
 and indiscretions are not committed. Some are rash 
 in speech, others are rash in deed. Some are narrow 
 in spirit, and hence are niggardly and parsimonious, 
 while others are so prodigal or so generous that they 
 spend more than they earn, and thus involve them- 
 selves in difficulty and debt. There is nothing perfect 
 on this side the grave. All have vices and weak- 
 nesses, all yield at times to excitement or temptation, 
 all commit errors of omission or commission, and thus 
 all require the exercise of indulgence and forbearance. 
 Such being the condition of affairs in ordinary times, 
 how much more essential is the practice of " the gen- 
 tle virtues" at a crisis like the present, and with so 
 many in embarrassed and suffering circumstances I 
 
 " Tho«mercy I to others show, 
 That mercy show to me." 
 
 This sentiment is at once moral, magnanimous and 
 
FORBEARANCE. 2itf 
 
 humane. On all sides we hear of cases of misfortune. 
 Men who have been for half a century engaged in 
 commercial pursuits, have been prostrated as by a sud- 
 den blow. A storm has come upon them like a thun- 
 derbolt from a summer cloud. ISTo ordinary prudence 
 could have forewarned or protected. The earnings 
 of a lifetime have been swept away in a moment. 
 The agony of mind that has been experienced has 
 been intense. Eeason herself has tottered upon her 
 throne. Nevertheless, honor and integrity have been 
 adhered to, sacrifice after sacrifice has been made, and 
 all that human energy could do has been accomplished. 
 If, after such struggles, trials and exertions, it has 
 been found impossible to maintain a cherished posi- 
 tion, the creditor should at least exercise the most 
 generous forbearance. It is hard enough for the strong 
 man to fall without being thereafter pursued in a 
 selfish, avaricious or persecuting spirit. Eather let 
 sympathy be expressed, and assistance be rendered. 
 These may encourage, relieve and revive, and thus 
 minister in the end as well to the advantage of the 
 creditor as the debtor. A contrary course may induce 
 desperation and despair. It should be remembered, 
 too, that there is no human being who breathes the 
 breath of life, no matter how independent his posi- 
 tion may apparently be, who is not liable to vicissi- 
 tude and calamity of some kind. He may be power- 
 ful to-day and powerless to-morrow. He may in one 
 hour exult in all the pride of wealth, position and in- 
 fluence, and in another he may lie writhing and pros- 
 trate on a bed of sickness, perhaps of death. Even 
 while he pursues his victim debtor, the insatiate archer 
 may be in pursuit of him. We are all fallible and 
 
274 FORBEARANCE. 
 
 mortal ; all feeble and dependent human beings. And 
 such being the case, we should deal with others as we 
 would they should deal with us under like circum- ! 
 stances. We should not exact every thing in a grasp- 
 ing and selfish spirit, for the time may come, either 
 here or hereafter, when more may be exacted of us ; 
 than we can redeem. A few days since we conversed 
 with one of our best and most respected citizens, who, 
 somewhat depressed by the circumstances of the times, 
 confessed that he was anxious for the future, but said 
 he had nothing to fear if two of his heaviest creditors 
 would only deal generously toward him and give him 
 a little time. He had hardly spoken before he re- 
 ceived a note from one, in which the writer said that 
 he had heard of the embarrassment of an old and 
 esteemed friend, and that " he was happy to be able, 
 not only to withhold his own claim for a time, but to 
 offer some assistance, if necessary." The cloud at 
 once passed from the brow of the anxious debtor, a 
 tear of joy trembled in his eye, and for a moment his 
 voice became hoarse with emotion. But, alas! how 
 rarely are these acts of generosity and forbearance 
 practiced! Nevertheless, they cannot be too earnestly 
 encouraged. Forbearance, we repeat, is a virtue that 
 should be constantly cultivated. Not a day goes by 
 in which it may not be displayed with advantage. It 
 is suited as well to the domestic circle and the family 
 fireside, as the out- door world. All, we repeat, have 
 their faults and their infirmities, all their errors of tem- 
 per and habit, and all should bear and forbear. When 
 reflecting upon or censuring others, when taking ex- 
 ception to the manners and morals of a friend or 
 neighbor, when criticising sharply and harshly the 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 275 
 
 folly and extravagance that have led to indebtedness 
 or misfortune, we should not forget the necessity of 
 self-investigation, or overlook our own shortcomings. 
 The mote may be in the eye of another and the beam 
 in our own eye. But above all things, if we have the 
 power, and if, by the exercise of clemency and forbear- 
 ance, we can heal a wounded heart, and soothe a 
 broken spirit, let us show that we are not dead to 
 sympathy, or indifferent to suffering, and pursue the 
 part at once of a philanthropist, a brother, and a man. 
 
 Jjttst&ttratt; 0r Slime, Jai% rah fcgg, 
 
 " Hope on — hope ever." 
 
 WE think that it is Bulwer, who, in one of his 
 most celebrated novels, argues that almost 
 every difficulty to which human beings are liable in 
 the progress of events, may be overcome by time, 
 faith, and ENERGY. The doctrine is certainly en- 
 couraging, and it will in a great majority of cases, be 
 found correct. There may, of course be exceptions, 
 but they will prove few and far between. There is 
 nothing like perseverance in the affairs of this life. 
 By this, we do not mean a blind, bigoted, and dogged 
 disposition, a determination to adhere to one idea, how- 
 ever absurd, and under all circumstances, but a calm, 
 cool, and resolute spirit, which is not intimidated by 
 trifles, which is not overcome by a momentary re 
 verse, which never loses faith in right, justice, and an 
 
 n 
 
276 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 overruling Providence, and which at the same time re- 
 laxes no efforts within human scope and means. It is, 
 we are aware, not a little difficult to wrestle with mis- 
 fortune, and rise again and again from the strong 
 blows of adversity by which men are suddenly de- 
 pressed. But while the mental and physical faculties 
 continue in full vigor, there is hope, and by the exer- 
 cise of faith and energy, the vicissitudes that interrupt 
 our progress and overcloud the mind, will gradually 
 give way, No one can read the future. No one can 
 tell what a day will bring forth ; and it is this very 
 mystery as regards the coming time, that should in- 
 duce us to persevere to the last, to struggle on from 
 day to day, hoping, trusting, believing that a change 
 for the better is at hand. How many can now look 
 back to the past, and trace their thorough recovery 
 from misfortune, to this hopeful and faith-inspiring 
 spirit. How many, indeed, of the saved among the 
 passengers of the Central America struggled on for 
 hours, and at last realized the expectation that kindled 
 a flame of courage in their breasts, by being relieved 
 and succored! Others again, it is quite possible, gave 
 themselves up to despair long before it was necessary, 
 and thus perished amidst the stormy waters. And so 
 with every phase and condition of life. All are liable 
 to chances and changes, — all are surrounded at times 
 by difficulties and dangers, to overcome which requires 
 not only the exercise of moral courage, but of physical 
 effort. It is at such times and seasons that the doc- 
 trine of the celebrated novelist is particularly applic- 
 able. Time, faith, and energy are the great restorers. 
 Only a few days since, we heard of the case of an in- 
 dividual who, depressed in spirits and excited in mind 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 277 
 
 by the then existing monetary excitement, was dis- 
 posed to abandon all further efforts, and to yield to 
 what he regarded as the necessities of the case. For- 
 tunately he called one or two friends to his councils, 
 exhibited his books to them, listened to their advice, 
 determined to make one more courageous effort, and 
 immediately thereafter discovered that he had sur- 
 mounted every difficulty, and that his course for the 
 future would be comparatively easy. The cloud 
 passed from his mind, the depression from his heart, 
 and now that he looks back, he is only surprised that 
 he desponded or hesitated for a moment. There was, 
 indeed, no serious cause for apprehension, and he was 
 unnecessarily alarmed. And thus it often happens. 
 Courage is absolutely essential, as well in the commer- 
 cial world as upon the battle-field, and timidity and 
 despondency are the worst of counsellors in a season 
 of difficulty and danger. Time, faith, and energy are, 
 we repeat, the great essentials, and "hope on — hope 
 ever," forms a motto and a maxim that should be kept 
 steadily and constantly in view by all who are en- 
 gaged in the great struggle for independence, and who 
 are fighting what has been emphatically designated as 
 the battle of life. To-day may be dark, desolate, and 
 cheerless, but to-morrow may be full of cheerfulness 
 and sunshine. It is often so in the material world, as 
 well as in the moral, the social, and the commercial. 
 Above all things, hold fast to the priceless jewels of 
 honor and integrity, and never abandon a good cause, 
 a-great enterprise, or a laudable object, while a soli- 
 tary hope remains. 
 17 
 
anh lis 
 
 " But still he is thy brother." 
 
 OF late years the subject of prison discipline has 
 engaged the attention of many of our most en- 
 lightened statesmen and philanthropists. They have 
 sought three objects : — 
 
 First, the protection of society and the security of 
 life and property. 
 
 Second, the arrest and adequate punishment of the 
 criminal. 
 
 Third, his reform and cure ; and thus his restoration 
 to the ways of well doing. 
 
 These, the reader will perceive, cover the whole 
 ground. They constitute features of a system at once 
 decisive and humane. There are in society at least 
 six kinds of criminals. 
 
 First, those who have become so through the agency 
 of ignorance and bad example. 
 
 Second, the victims of misfortune and despair, who 
 have been unable to summon sufficient moral energy 
 to resist temptation. 
 
 Third, the intemperate, who, in their moments of 
 excitement and delirium, know not what they do. 
 
 Fourth, the idle, who first commence with begging, 
 and then degenerate into stealing. 
 
 Fifth, the viciously inclined, who, from some evil 
 propensity of nature, prefer a dishonest to an honest 
 course. 
 
 (278) 
 
 
THE CRIMINAL AND HIS CURE. 279 
 
 Sixth, the greedy, the grasping, the avaricious, who, 
 in their eagerness to obtain wealth, do not stop to in- 
 quire into the means. 
 
 But there are other phases and features of wrong- 
 doing, which will easily suggest themselves to the 
 minds of the intelligent — there are unfortunates upon 
 whom the brand of the felon and the criminal is in- 
 delibly fixed, but who, nevertheless, should be re- 
 garded as the victims of circumstances. They have 
 been tempted in an evil hour to violate the laws, either 
 from intemperance, passion, or despair ; have then been 
 abandoned by friends, and handed over to the courts 
 of justice, sometimes without consideration, and often 
 without mercy. It is these, therefore, that we would 
 endeavor to assist, encourage, and cure. Their condi- 
 tion is deplorable, view it as we may. and the prospect 
 before them is full of clouds and darkness. Even 
 when they have served out their time, and been sent 
 into the world again, the finger of scorai is too often 
 pointed at them, they find it impossible to obtain the 
 means of livelihood, and are again driven into the 
 ways of indiscretion and crime. Is it not possible to 
 do something for this wretched class ? Are they, for 
 a first offence, to be for ever abandoned and proscribed ? 
 According to the official documents, there were last 
 year confined within fourteen penitentiaries* of the 
 United States, no less than five thousand human 
 beings. Their periods of sentence vary from three 
 months to sixty years, while more than one hundred 
 and fifty are doomed to durance vile for the term nf 
 their natural lives. Many have wives, children, and 
 homes; and while some maybe regarded as hardened, 
 incorrigible, and incurable, a majority, according to 
 
280 THE CRIMINAL AND HIS CURE. 
 
 the testimony of those who have given this subject due 
 attention, are capable of being thoroughly reformed. 
 What a field is here presented for genuine humanity ! 
 Even the forger, the burglar, and the felon, might be 
 taught by sympathy, kindness, and assistance, that 
 honesty is the best policy, and that " virtue alone is 
 happiness below." We are aware that in nearly every 
 great city of the Union, good Samaritans may be 
 found, who travel out of the ordinary paths of life, and 
 penetrate not only the lowest hovels, but the darkest 
 abysses of crime, in the hope of rescuing some fallen 
 brother. So, too, there are visitors to our almshouses 
 and penitentiaries, the object being to fan into fresh 
 life any spark of former integrity that may yet remain, 
 and to win back from their evil courses, the misguided, 
 the despairing, and the penitent. But the field is wide, 
 and the reapers are comparatively few. The work, 
 too, is one that does not commend itself to ordinary 
 minds, and thus it is that hundreds grovel in the depths 
 of despair — sink lower and lower in their own estima- 
 tion, and when at last they are permitted once more to 
 look again into the faces of their fellow-men, they feel 
 like outcasts, imagine phantoms, and, in too many 
 cases, lapse into the old vices, and thus wink to rise no 
 more. We repeat the question, cannot something be 
 done to rescue, reform, and save the multitude of crim- 
 inals, who become so in the first instance from causes 
 which, to a certain extent, are beyond their control ? 
 All are not guilty to a like extent, although they may 
 be doomed to the same punishment. The antecedents, 
 the education, the privations, and the temptations, 
 should all be taken into consideration when we are 
 about to pass judgment upon the misguided, the erring, 
 
IDLERS AND PR0SEE3. '281 
 
 and even the criminal. Let us, while we thank heaven 
 that our lines have been cast in better places, not only 
 feel for those who have been less fortunate, but utter 
 a word of hope, and stretch forth a helping hand ; if in 
 our power. 
 
 $bks irafr jjroatw. 
 
 NOT long since, we had occasion to call upon a 
 friend upon business of a somewhat serious na- 
 ture to the parties concerned. During the interview, 
 an acquaintance stepped in on some trifling affair of 
 his own, in behalf of which he desired to obtain the 
 sympathy and assistance of our friend. These were 
 generously promised. In fact, the matter under dis- 
 cussion at the time, required prompt attention and an 
 early decision, and hence our friend stopped the other 
 before he had proceeded half way with his narrative, 
 for he saw his object at once, and supposed that a 
 ready compliance would induce his prompt withdrawal, 
 especially as it was evident, to one of the slightest pene- 
 tration, that a private matter was in hand. But the 
 intruder could not be disposed of so easily. He talked 
 and talked upon a dozen trifling subjects, the other 
 persons present manifesting as much impatience as 
 politeness would allow, and he was only induced to 
 leave the room by a distinct intimation at last that his 
 absence was absolutely necessary. Strange, that he 
 could not see the dilemma in which he placed himself 
 atid others, or that seeing, he was unwilling to escape 
 
282 • IDLERS AND PROSERS. 
 
 from it ! But this is no unusual mistake with the idle, 
 the prosy, and the weak-minded. Not satisfied with 
 wasting their own time, they annoy others at seasons 
 of business or privacy, and thus not only make them 
 feel unpleasant and irritable, but they absolutely rob 
 them of moments which are often far more valuable 
 than money. There are seasons for all things. There 
 are times when the appearance of a friend, a neighbor, 
 or an acquaintance, is most acceptable, and when life 
 is sweetened and brightened by social and agreeable 
 conversation, by interchange of thought and reci- 
 procity of goodwill. But, again, there are moments 
 when visits are altogether inopportune, when polite- 
 ness and duty dictate that brevity should be the rule 
 of the hour. True, all cannot discriminate as to such 
 seasons, and hence the liability to make mistakes. 
 But when we call upon a neighbor in a friendly way, 
 and discover that if we tarry long we will rather an- 
 noy than gratify, the sooner that a good excuse is 
 found for leave-taking the better. There is tact in 
 every thing — in love, in friendship, in fashion, in dress, 
 and in visiting. But the most provoking kind of an- 
 noyers are the idlers, who, indisposed to active em 
 ployment themselves, are constantly haunting the places 
 of business of others, listening to conversation not in- 
 tended for their ears, and prying into affairs in which 
 they have no concern. If they are determined to be 
 indolent, let them be so. Theirs is the responsibility. 
 But if unwilling themselves to take an active and use- 
 ful part in the business of life, they should at least not 
 interfere with the affairs of others. They should keep 
 away from stores and counting-rooms during business 
 hours. They should retire on the appearance of a 
 
IDLERS AND PROSERS. 283 
 
 customer, and by no means venture to interfere in 
 conversation in which they have not been invited to 
 take part. Doubtless many of our readers are annoyed 
 with characters of the class described. The complaint 
 with many such is that they can get nothing to do ; 
 but the truth is, that in most cases they have no dis- 
 position for industry. 
 
 There is another species of good-natured nuisance 
 entitled to a passing remark. We allude to persons 
 who occupy a long time in describing a very small 
 matter, who will seize you by the button-hole in the 
 street, and detain you for half an hour, in detailing an 
 event of little or no consequence ; and this, too, when 
 you are in great haste, and anxious for the transaction 
 of important business. The temper of the detained 
 must be most angelic to tolerate many repetitions of 
 this annoyance. Good nature is a blessing, and it 
 should be exercised on all possible occasions ; but we 
 are all mortal, all fallible, and should not be tempted 
 beyond endurance. The doctrine of minding one'? 
 business, is not only sound and practical, but idlers 
 should extend it a little further, and when they have 
 no business of their own to attend to, they should be 
 careful not to annoy their neighbors who have. 
 
mttjj tens prat.-- Unke pontage k 
 
 " It lures the pirate, and corrupts the friend." 
 
 " To whom can riches give repute or trust, 
 Content or pleasure, but the good and just." 
 
 THE homage that is so generally paid to wealth, and 
 often without regard to merit, appears to us the 
 consequence of a great weakness, if not worse. The in- 
 quiry with the thousands is not as to the virtue and 
 purity of a man — not as to his integrity, disposition, 
 and principles, but his worldly means I They seem to 
 imagine that money "covers a multitude of sins," and 
 they are quite willing to be on terms of intimacy with 
 individuals who are affluent, no matter what their 
 errors of omission or commission, and utterly regard- 
 less of the mode by which they acquired fortune ; 
 Nay, if these individuals were poor, they would be 
 shunned, contemned, and despised; but being rich, 
 they are courted and flattered. Is not this a sad error ? 
 and is it not calculated to teach the young that money 
 is preferable to merit, that virtue may be sacrificed 
 with impunity, provided thereby a fortune can be 
 acquired ? Is it not calculated to exalt vice and de- 
 press virtue — to corrupt the very sources and springs 
 of integrity and principle ? The evil to which we refer 
 is forcibly illustrated at a certain season of the year, 
 ?nd especially at the many summer resorts and fashion- 
 (284) 
 
MONEY VERSUS MERIT. 281 
 
 able -watering-places. Let a thoughtful observer min 
 gle in the crowd at such " localities," inquire into his 
 tories, analyze character, and review conduct. He wilt 
 discover that, in far too many cases, those who are re- 
 garded as the possessors of the largest fortunes, who 
 expend the most money and make the greatest dis- 
 play, are the flattered, the envied, and courted; and 
 this, too, no matter how soiled they may be in fame, 
 how darkened by misdeeds, how unfeeling or unprin- 
 cipled in the affairs of ordinary life. 
 
 The idea of associating with the rich, appears to 
 delude and fascinate weak minds. They indulge in 
 the absurd error that such association excites the envy 
 of the lookers-on, and that thus " the poor parasites" 
 are elevated in the scale of society. And this, too, 
 although the money- worshipers may be utterly stain- 
 less in character — may have lived lives of integrity 
 and well-doing — may, in fact, possess merit, talent, 
 and "good name," far above and beyond the mere 
 possessor of wealth — and wealth, too, acquired by 
 improper means. The sad delusion prevails to a fear- 
 ful extent. Parents inculcate it by example. They 
 indirectly teach their children to seek out the wealthy 
 for associates, even when the reputation of such asso- 
 ciates will not bear the test of examination, while they 
 turn away with coldness and indifference from the 
 comparatively poor, however meritorious or unsullied. 
 Only a few days since we heard a mother finish a por- 
 trait of a very dissolute young man, with the apolo- 
 getic aflfl. unprincipled remark — "but, he is very rich!" 
 The spirit and meaning of her language and manner 
 were — " true, he is worthless and profligate ; but then 
 he possesses abundant means, and money is the God 
 of our idolatry." 
 
286 MONEY VERSUS MERIT. 
 
 Let us not be misunderstood. It is desirable, very 
 desirable, to acquire a pecuniary independence, to live 
 with comfort, not to say luxury. Nevertheless, char- 
 acter is far better than money, is " above and beyond 
 all price," while principle is deathless, and influences 
 and affects not only the thoughts, feelings, and emo- 
 tions of this life, but the complexion, the lights and 
 shadows of that which is to come. A departure from 
 the path of rectitude in early life, even with the object 
 and the prospect of thereby securing a pecuniary ad- 
 vantage, is sure in the end to lead to fatal conse- 
 quences. Let the young be taught that they may with 
 impunity violate truth, outrage morality, and trample 
 upon virtue, and their downward career will be rapid 
 and ruinous. Success at first — worldly success — will 
 only induce them to venture still further in the wrong 
 path, and thus hasten their fall. Is he upright ? Is 
 he honest ? Is he true ? These are the proper ques- 
 tions. Enterprise, activity, energy, are every way 
 commendable. They are, indeed, essential to success 
 in every pursuit of life. But, with these, integrity and 
 truth should invariably be associated. And thus, after 
 having toiled on for years, and accumulated "enough 
 and to spare," the conscience will be calm and tran- 
 quil, the mind satisfied, and the heart at ease. The 
 past will have no terror, and the future will be con- 
 templated with hope, promise, and confidence. Let 
 another course be pursued, let money be the only 
 object, regardless of truth, integrity, benevolence, and 
 sympathy, and no fortune, however large, wil^soothe 
 and satisfy, will " calm the spirit and tranquillize the 
 soul." The " still, small voice" within will whisper 
 words of admonition, and in quiet hours, when thought 
 
MONEY VERSUS MERIT. 287 
 
 is restless, a thousand painful memories will come 
 back, and with them a thousand pangs of sorrow, of 
 regret, and of remorse. The penalty, too, is sure 
 Even in this world, the punishment in most cases will 
 be fearful. The individual who deliberately wrongs a 
 neighbor, who cunningly darkens a reputation, who 
 stealthily defrauds, or wantonly injures, will find that, 
 sooner or later, retribution, cool, bitter, but just, will 
 be awarded. The only true policy for the erring is, to 
 make prompt and ample atonement. The task may be 
 hard, and hence the urgent necessity for its execution. 
 And yet there are individuals who live on for years in 
 splendor and in affluence, who know and feel their 
 indebtedness to others, (others who, from the force of 
 circumstances, have become needy and in want,) and 
 who yet lack the nerve, the manliness, the justice, 
 and the generosity to requite the obligation. They 
 feel the indebtedness, and they have the means ; but 
 with a spirit utterly unworthy, they shrink away from 
 the subject, strive to forget it, or deceive themselves 
 by some specious argument, into a shameful and atro- 
 cious neglect of their duty. Are there none such 
 among our readers ? Are there none who are now 
 prosperous who were once indigent, and who for years 
 have been forgetful of their early benefactors ? Are 
 there none who worship wealth so thoroughly, as to 
 have their perceptions upon .all other subjects blunted 
 and blinded ? Are there none who neglect friends 
 and neighbors, who are truly meritorious, to run 
 after the profligate, the heartless, but the worldly and 
 the wealthy ? Are there none who labor under the 
 strange delusion, that by moving in the society of the 
 rich, they likewise will be supposed by the unsophisti- 
 
28$ ENOUGH. 
 
 cated to be rich, and will be envied also? Are there 
 none who mistake money for merit, and in this mistake 
 render themselves objects of ridicule and contempt — 
 and " pawn their souls for an empty bauble ?" 
 
 €n0itg|; or, % fjfcpfe rf Contentment 
 
 " O, grant me, Heaven, a middle state, 
 Neither too humble, nor too great ; 
 More than enough for nature's ends, 
 With something left for poor and friends." 
 
 WE, a few days since, met with a worthy citizen 
 about sixty years of age, who had just retired 
 from business. He was in good health and high 
 spirits, but he had been engaged in manufacturing 
 pursuits for something like forty years, had earned a 
 pecuniary independence, and to use his own language, 
 w r as " satisfied." In brief, he had enough, more than 
 sufficient to meet his ordinary wants, and he deemed 
 it the policy of wisdom to retire while he could do so 
 with safety, and be contented with a reasonable for- 
 tune. It would be well for many who are at this 
 moment engaged in the active and perilous pursuits 
 of commerce and trade, if they could profit by this 
 example. The great multitude are not satisfied with 
 a moderate fortune. They become avaricious to a 
 certain extent, and hence they struggle for more, even 
 after they have accumulated a sufficiency, and at the 
 risk very often of health and strength, and even life 
 
ENOUGH. 289 
 
 itself. They are greedy and grasping, and if engaged 
 in a profitable business, they are unwilling to abandon 
 such a source of income to other hands, either forgetful 
 of the short tenure of human life, unmindful of their 
 own increasing infirmities, or so absorbed in accumu- 
 lation, that they have no time to think either of health 
 here, or of destiny hereafter. They thus go on from 
 day to day and from year to year, until at last they 
 are paralyzed by time or disease, and are hurried into 
 another world, before, as they erroneously supposed, 
 they had half finished their work in this. 
 
 This is no fancy sketch. Men are apt to become so 
 engrossed by the pursuit of wealth, the accumulation 
 of property, or the acquisition of power, as to prove 
 unmindful of all higher and more thoughtful consider- 
 ations. They deceive themselves in many respects. 
 They persuade themselves that they are young when 
 they are old, that they are strong when they are weak, 
 that they are advancing physically and mentally when 
 in fact they are declining. How frequently does 
 Death surprise even the affluent, before they have 
 made provision for the distribution of their property ? 
 They cannot bring themselves to part with their earn- 
 ings, even on paper, and thus postpone from time to 
 time, the important duty of apportioning their estates 
 by will, to heirs, friends, and benevolent institutions. 
 Let any one mix and mingle in a thoughtful and in- 
 quiring spirit in the marts of trade, and watch closely 
 and narrowly, the figures and the features of the many 
 who day by day devote all their energies to the vari- 
 ous objects of enterprise, speculation, and of money- 
 getting, and the discovery will then be made, that not 
 a few of those who are straining and striving, are, in 
 
 
 
290 ENOUGH. 
 
 the ordinary course of nature, but a year or two distant 
 from the grave. They cannot be contented. They are 
 not, and never will be satisfied. They can never 
 secure enough. More — a little more — is the great ob- 
 ject of their toil, and as they pile up dollar upon 
 dollar in their coffers, they inwardly promise them- 
 selves that they will soon be in a condition of positi\ e 
 independence, when they will gracefully retire. But 
 year follows year, and they are still as busy as ever, 
 or -their places are vacant, and they have departed to 
 the land of spirits ! It is, indeed, more difficult to b ; 
 contented than the hasty and inconsiderate are apt to 
 imagine. With our means, too, our wants almost invari- 
 ably increase, and thus, what might have suited at one 
 period of life, will not answer at another. It should 
 be remembered, moreover, that almost every business 
 pursuit is chequered with light and shadow, with ad- 
 versity and prosperity ; and that, therefore, all who 
 persist, after they have secured enough, encounter the 
 risk of losing their dearly-prized earnings, and of thus 
 over-leaping the object of their ambition, and perilling 
 the very security and independence which they regard 
 as so desirable. Hence, when age begins to show itself, 
 when the physical man begins to fail, when the mind 
 reels and faints under the ordinary efforts and excite- 
 ments, it is the policy of prudence to be admonished, 
 and if in a condition so to do, to retire quietly from 
 the exciting arenas of commerce and of trade. Better 
 thus to be contented and satisfied than to toil on under 
 the double, risk of losing fortune as well as health, of 
 encountering bankruptcy as well as shortening life. 
 The human machine, it should be remembered, is cer 
 tain to give out after a specified amount of effort, use, 
 
THE PASSION OF AVARICE. 291 
 
 and exhaustion. This is seen every day, and almost 
 every hour. Changes are constantly taking place 
 around and about us. We meet, in our daily walks, 
 friends, neighbors and acquaintances, bent, feeble and 
 failing, who but a year or two ago were apparently 
 firm, vigorous and active. But nature has assumed 
 her right, and the result is distinct and palpable. And 
 so it must be, sooner or later, with all of us. How 
 much wiser then, how much, more philosophic, to 
 measure and judge ourselves according to the history 
 of others, and when we are reminded that we have 
 played out our part, that we are descending the hill 
 of life, to prepare ourselves accordingly, and to relax 
 somewhat of the wear and tear of body and mind that 
 are so apt to weaken, paralyze and destroy. And if, 
 moreover, we have accumulated enough — if we have 
 prospered and attained an independent pecuniary 
 position — why should we not be satisfied, and, in a 
 spirit of gratitude to Providence, and of justice to our 
 fellow man, retire and leave the field to others? 
 
 %\t Iteira of %1wkt—% $kk\ from 
 
 " A little more !" 
 " Oh ! what a difference there lies in the definition of that word enough ! " 
 
 IT is said that there is at least one -passion — avarice 
 — which strengthens with life and is more power- 
 ful in old age and with the grave yawning to receive 
 13 
 
292 THE PASSION OF AVARICE. 
 
 its victim, than at any other period of human existence, 
 •Strange — yet true in many cases. The wise and philo- 
 sophic should be satisfied with enough, especially after 
 they have reached the summit of the mountain of life, 
 and are rapidly descending the other side. But Jook 
 through society and see how few have enough, how few 
 are satisfied, although they may have amassed their 
 thousands and tens of thousands. The desire is still 
 for more — and this desire, as life advances, too ire 
 quently becomes a passion. Yonder, for example, 
 passes an individual who cannot be less than sixty-five 
 years of age. He is a bachelor, has not a near relative 
 in the world, is worth perhaps a hundred thousand 
 dollars, and yet, judging from externals and from his 
 constant presence in the neighborhood of the money- 
 changers, his whole soul is devoted to gain. It has 
 become the passion of his life. He is only happy when 
 he is accumulating. A few years longer and he must, 
 in the course of nature, pass from the scene of busy 
 human existence, must leave his gold behind him. 
 "Why, then, should he be so anxious for more ? Why 
 should he agitate his mind, enfeeble his constitution, 
 and impair his health by such perpetual watchfulness 
 — such regular visits to the money market during all 
 weathers and in all seasons ? It is impossible, even 
 now, for him to spend one-fourth of his income. His 
 habits are economical, his wants are few, his tastes are 
 frugal. The chances are that ten years hence, and he 
 will be no longer among the sons of men. And yet to 
 see him chaffering in the Stock Market, loaning on a 
 promissory note^ and agitated by every change that 
 takes place in National or State Bonds, one would 
 suppose that he was either comparatively poor, or that 
 
THE PASSION OF AVARICE. 293 
 
 ne had a guarantee to live at least another century. 
 But no — his passion, his God is Avarice, and even 
 unconsciously to himself, he sometimes violates the 
 rules of order arid probity, in an effort to add a trifle 
 further to his accumulated thousands. 
 
 How difficult indeed, is it to ascertain when we have 
 enough ! How few know when to retire from the 
 busy scenes of commercial life — or having retired, can 
 resist the demon-promptings for further gain ! A 
 friend at our elbow informs us, that ten years ago, he 
 looked forward with hope and anxiety to the period 
 when he should be worth twenty thousand dollars, de- 
 termined in his own mind that he would then be satis- 
 fied, that thereafter his object would merely be em- 
 ployment, and that, if his gains were still great, he 
 would exercise the most liberal spirit in relation to the 
 suffering and the poor. Time passed on, the twenty 
 thousand have been attained, aye doubled — and he 
 frankly confesses that the desire for more has rather 
 increased than diminished. Instead of being satisfied 
 with his present position, he admits that he is now 
 unwilling to fix a bound to his monetary hopes. True, 
 his family has increased, and his expenses have more 
 than doubled. But so it is with the multitude. What 
 were regarded as luxuries when in moderate circum- 
 stances, are looked upon as necessities when we be- 
 come rich. 
 
 A few years since, an intelligent merchant of 
 Boston was asked to name the sum likely to satisfy a 
 man. His reply was — U A little more/" And this is 
 the history of a large portion of mankind. The 
 philosophy was fully illustrated during the recent 
 fluctuations in the price of breadstuff's. The tempta- 
 
294 THE PASSION OF AVAittCB^ 
 
 tion at first was so great, that hundreds who had ac- 
 cumulated fortunes and retired from business, were 
 again induced to enter the arena, and many, in their 
 efforts to secure " a little more," were hurried on step 
 by step, until crash after crash was produced by the 
 rapid fall in prices, and they, were engulfed, wrecked, 
 ruined. A case of this kind has been mentioned to us 
 in a merchant of Liverpool, who a few years since re- 
 tired with a fortune of £60,000, or about $300,000. 
 The grain excitement came on, prices advanced from 
 day to day, thousands were made in a few hours — 
 until, maddened by the old mania, he could no longer 
 resist the temptation, but plunged again boldly and 
 deeply into the feverish speculations of the day. Only 
 six months passed by, and so overwhelming were the 
 changes, that he was a bankrupt, and comparatively 
 speaking, a beggar. Yes — within a period so brief, 
 had the desire for more converted him from one of the 
 richest in the neighborhood, into one of the poorest. 
 The effect upon his mind was so appalling, the depres- 
 sion of spirits was so severe, that it was with difficulty 
 he could be withheld from resorting to that desperate 
 and cowardly mode of escape from worldly grief and 
 agony of mind — suicide. 
 
 At this moment, how many are there in Philadel- 
 phia who have ''enough and to spare," who have 
 abundance for themselves and families, who can by 
 a moderate and prudent course extend their annual 
 revenue : and who yet are so " greedy of gain," that 
 they constantly peril their peace of mind, and the 
 worldly independence of their families, in the hope 
 and with the desire of obtaining " a little more !" It 
 is indeed a difficult thing to ascertain when one has 
 
THE PASSION OF AVARICE. 295 
 
 enough, and more difficult, if possible, to act in a gener- 
 ous and benevolent spirit after we have been blessed 
 by Providence with abundance, have attained by good 
 luck and good management a position of worldly in- 
 dependence. The case of a gentleman of Brooklyn 
 may be mentioned as a happy illustration of the true 
 policy after an individual has become rich, and still 
 finds it necessary to have active employment. It is 
 said that some years since, an esteemed citizen of the 
 city just named, found, on looking over his affairs, that 
 he had realized a fortune of three hundred thousand 
 dollars. The sum appeared to him enormous, and far 
 more than adequate to his wants and wishes in this 
 life. But he could not be idle, and he was by no 
 means covetous. He therefore reflected upon the matter 
 for some time, and finally determined to invest one 
 half the sum ($150,000) as securely as possible for the 
 benefit of himself and family, and to continue his busi- 
 ness with the other half for the benefit of mankind at 
 large, and the poor and deserving of his own immediate 
 neighborhood in particular. But alas ! ' this case is 
 but one in a thousand. And yet how noble the ex- 
 ample I 
 
 " Wealth," — says a favorite author — " wealth, with 
 the blessing of God — wealth, the result of honest labor, 
 of the unforeseen circumstances of life — wealth to which 
 the soul has never surrendered itself — wealth which 
 man hath never made an idol, falling down and wor 
 shiping it as his fastest security and ultimate good — 
 such wealth, the gift of God, like the other talents 
 given of God, is good to be used and to be accounted 
 for. But wealth, the gift of the devil — wealth, the 
 result of the abandonment of the whole man to the 
 
296 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 object of acquisition — wealth, the first aim, the purpose 
 of the clay, the vision of the night — love of wealth — ■ 
 passionate devotion to gain — covetousncss, which is idol- 
 atry — such wealth proves a cheat and a deception of 
 the father of lies : it is like that gold of the fairy tale, 
 which sooner or later turns out to be but withered 
 leaves ; for the hour will come and must come, when 
 every thing will be tried by a true standard. Sorrow 
 will come, sickness will come ; terrible death, sooner or 
 later must come ; and then what will it profit a man if 
 he hath gained the whole world and lost his own soul !" 
 
 Ingratteer-^ Witt of para fjtatart 
 
 "Ingratitude — thou marble-hearted fiend!" 
 
 HOW delightful the ability as well as the dis- 
 position to confer favors! What pleasure it 
 must afford the rich and the powerful to relieve the 
 wants and soothe the sufferings of the poor! The 
 recollection of such conduct is calculated to sweeten 
 every hour of after existence. What reflections could 
 be more felicitous than those caused by having rescued 
 some erring child of humanity from a downward 
 career — having brightened the hearth of some lonely 
 and impoverished widow — having averted the bank- 
 ruptcy of some friend — having tendered a loan at the 
 moment it was least expected and most desired — 
 having appeared as a messenger of generosity and 
 
INGRATITUDE. 297 
 
 joy ; when to the sufferer, all the world seemed mer- 
 cenary and heartless! The "Pleasures of Philan- 
 thropy" are yet to be described. But volumes might 
 be produced by some competent mind and heart upon 
 such a fruitful subject. A few days since, we hap- 
 pened to enter the sick chamber of an estimable citizen, 
 who had been unable, in consequence of severe illness, 
 to attend to his business affairs for some weeks. We 
 found his wife overcome by some sudden act of kind- 
 ness, and shedding tears of gratitude and joy. We 
 inquired the cause, and ascertained that a neighbor 
 who had called before, had just paid a visit, and ap- 
 prehensive that the pecuniary affairs of the sick man 
 might be in some confusion, he had made a generous 
 tender of his purse, satisfied, he said, that all would 
 be well again in a short time, but anxious to prevent 
 distress under any circumstances. The relief was not 
 needed, but the act was so full of touching and disin- 
 terested kindness, that the wife was quite overcome, 
 and showered blessings upon the head of the worthy 
 individual referred to. This was indeed true benevo- 
 lence, genuine liberality — a golden deed among the 
 many hollow and sounding acts of this working-day 
 world. It is conduct like this that elevates our race 
 — allies the nature of man to that of superior beings. 
 And such cases are by no means rare. They seldom 
 find their way into the public prints, for the truly 
 benevolent are modest and retiring, and shrink from 
 all display and ostentation. When they give, they 
 do so quietly, satisfied with the consciousness of doing 
 good. 
 
 But, alas ! for the weakness and the viciousness of 
 human nature. How often does it happen that favors 
 
298 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 are sources of anxiety rather than of pleasure, because 
 of the ingratitude of mankind. How often do they 
 convert friends into enemies, make individuals hate 
 their benefactors, simply because of that vicious, 
 selfish passion of the human heart, which under a 
 sense of obligation, begets a feeling of rancor even 
 amongst the most intimate friends. Do you not know 
 such cases, gentle reader ? Have you not experienced 
 this strange perversity ? Can you not call to mind some 
 individual, who is indebted to you for a kindness, a 
 favor, a loan — and who has grown colder and colder 
 from day to day and from year to year, until he is 
 now an enemy rather than a friend? Have you not 
 also seen cases in which the obligation, at first re- 
 garded as kindly and generous in an eminent degree, 
 was afterward derided, contemned, and attributed to 
 improper motives? What fiend is more marble- 
 hearted than Ingratitude? How strange it is, that in- 
 dividuals so circumstanced, can revile or assail their 
 benefactors ! How dark and deplorable a feature of 
 the human heart ! And yet its existence how few will 
 deny ! The ungrateful man is indeed a disgrace to 
 humanity. He is neither entitled to sympathy nor 
 respect. He not only injures himself, but he excites 
 distrust as to mankind at large, and checks the hand 
 of generosity when about to act in the most liberal 
 spirit. But all — thank Heaven — are not so. All do 
 not yield to this demon of our evil nature. There 
 are many who are grateful for the smallest favors, who 
 appreciate and remember acts of kindness and good- 
 will till the latest hour of existence. Nothing so de- 
 lights them as an opportunity to reciprocate. They 
 are never so happy as when acknowledging and re- 
 
INGRATITUDE. 299 
 
 paying a kindness. They are true to the best impulses 
 of generosity and justice, and they love their fellow- 
 creatures with a spirit of brotherhood and affection. 
 "We have known individuals who years after some 
 slight favor had been conferred, and when it was for- 
 gotten by the benefactor, return it gladly and eagerly 
 a hundred fold. The cup of water given in the right 
 spirit to the beggar who knocks at our door, the 
 crumb that falls from the table, the alms, however 
 trifling — all have their uses and their reward. Let no 
 one be deterred from the exercise of charity, because 
 in his progress through life he has encountered many 
 an instance of black ingratitude. Let not the inno- 
 cent suffer for the guilty ! We hold to the faith, that 
 no act of humanity, no word of kindness, no smile of 
 benevolence, is altogether valueless or lost. We may 
 not see the effect to-day. It may escape our observa- 
 tion entirely. But it will nevertheless have existence. 
 It is our duty at least, to act in a generous, a benevo- 
 lent and a Christian spirit, satisfied that the All-seeing 
 Mind penetrates far deeper than any human foresight, 
 and notes not only every deed, but every thought of 
 the great human family. The ungrateful, on the other 
 hand, should remember that sooner or later a day of 
 retribution will come. Let them beware — and resist 
 the first insidious approach of Satanic pride — that 
 pride by which the angels fell, and of which Ingrati- 
 tude is the eldest born 
 
ts. 
 
 " But Wisdom, awful Wisdom ! which inspects, 
 Discerns, compares, weighs, separates, infers, 
 Seizes the right, and holds it to the last, 
 How rare!" 
 
 WITH a little reflection, how many errors would 
 be avoided, how many difficulties escaped ! 
 The rash and hasty are constantly getting into trouble. 
 They judge harshly and abruptly, they speak thought- 
 lessly and indiscreetly. They form opinions, in many 
 cases, without having examined all the facts ; they ex- 
 press those opinions to others, and thus do much harm 
 and often unintentionally. Indiscretion is a sad error. 
 It causes mischief, produces unkind feeling, severs 
 many a tie of friendship, and leads to many a path of ruin. 
 And yet all are more or less indiscreet. There are few 
 who think twice before they speak once, who have a con- 
 stant watch upon their passions, their prejudices, their 
 minds, their hearts, and their tongues. A few days since, 
 a gentleman visited a friend, and in the course of con- 
 versation, seized the occasion to contrast the disposi- 
 tions of large and small persons, physically speaking. 
 He was himself of fine proportions, and while advert- 
 ing to some individual who was very diminutive in 
 figure, he proceeded to launch forth in a tirade against 
 small people generally, said they were waspish, spite- 
 ful, proud, mean, conceited, and incapable of cherish- 
 (300) 
 
THE INDISCREET. 301 
 
 ing a generous sentiment or a noble impulse. Nature, 
 he said, had dwarfed them, not only in person, but in 
 mind and in heart, and he cited several instances by 
 way of illustration. But just at that- moment, he 
 chanced to turn in another direction, and observed the 
 flashing eye and glowing cheek of a lady of very small 
 stature who happened to be present ; and seeing his 
 awkward and almost unpardonable blunder, he at- 
 tempted to stammer out an apology, but he was so 
 confused and abashed, that every effort only made the 
 the matter worse. 
 
 On another occasion, not long since, an individual, 
 who by the way has any thing but aristocratic blood 
 in his veins — but who, in consequence of the fortunate 
 speculations of his father, has inherited a large estate, 
 was indulging in a strain of great pomp and pride, as 
 to the high character of his ancestry, and sneering at 
 what he called " the mere mechanics and storekeepers 
 of the present day.'' His language was addressed to a 
 beauty and an heiress ; but one whose position and 
 prospects, nevertheless, have not neutralized her com- 
 mon sense, nor deadened the innate nobility of her 
 heart. She listened, but with evident impatience in 
 her manner, and coolly remarked at the close — "I 
 presume, sir, that you are aware that my father was a 
 mechanic." Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of 
 the miserable pretender, he could not have been more 
 startled. 
 
 But indiscretions of language and remark occur 
 every day. There are some people who seldom get 
 a story right. They are so impatient or excitable, 
 that they do not listen with sufficient attention to gather 
 all the facts ; their imaginations are so vivid, or their 
 
302 THE INDISCREET. 
 
 habit of exaggeration so bad, that the real truth is lost 
 sight of in a world of misrepresentation. There are 
 others again, whose prejudices are so strong, that they 
 color almost every opinion or action of life. Who has 
 not formed a hasty judgment of some subject or in- 
 dividual, and found, in after years, that they had com- 
 mitted a frightful eror? "Who has not drawn a por- 
 trait of character upon the mirror of his mind, added 
 tint upon tint and shade upon shade, and then dis- 
 covered, on becoming really acquainted with the 
 original, that the sketch had been made by Prejudice 
 and Passion, and not by Candor and Truth. 
 
 We hear much of first impressions — but how often 
 are they imperfect and erroneous ! How many men 
 have looked upon individuals of the gentler sex, for 
 mouths, nay, years, with comparative indifference, and 
 at last, on becoming intimate, discovered angelic vir- 
 tues, where before they never dreamed of their exist- 
 ence. Love at first sight is a very romantic affair, es- 
 pecially if it survive the test of time, and of repeated 
 observation ; but how much more reliable is the affec- 
 tion that is founded upon esteem, knowledge of mental 
 and moral worth, acquaintance with the disposition 
 and temper — and a consciousness that the object of re- 
 gard is not only suited to win passing admiration, but 
 to grace and dignify the responsible positions of wife 
 and mother. Does it not sometimes happen, that the 
 individual who imbibes an impression very rapidly, 
 who becomes a lover through the agency of a glance, 
 a friend with a grasp of the hand, alters his judgment 
 quite as readily, and dislikes with just as much haste 
 and rashness? For ourselves, we advocate the calm, 
 the thoughtful, the discreet — we are disposed to thinK 
 
PHYSICIANS AND THEIR RESPONSIBILITIES. 303 
 
 kindly of all men, and to hope for the best ; but we 
 are distrustful of that class of human beings ; who are 
 every thing by turns and nothing long — who one day 
 overflow with eulogies of this distinguished statesman, 
 and the next are monomaniacs concerning that — who 
 act from impulse, and not from reason — who jump at 
 conclusions without examining premises — who to-day 
 are prepared to denounce, and to-morrow to applaud 
 — whose tastes are as variable as the wind — in short, 
 the rash, the indiscreet, the unreflecting, and conse- 
 quently the misjudging. 
 
 HOW solemn are the responsibilities of the Physi- 
 cian! How arduous are his duties! What 
 anxieties must sometimes crowd upon his mind! 
 With the life of some loved and cherished being in 
 the greatest possible peril, anxious friends and rela- 
 tives awaiting his decision, and some fond mother or 
 devoted wife ready to burst into an agony of grief at 
 an unfavorable opinion ! Perhaps, too, he may have 
 a doubt in his own mind as to the exact line of treat- 
 ment! Then it is that his responsibilities seem to 
 accumulate ten-fold! Then does he consult the best 
 authorities, and the ablest among his professional 
 brethren, to fortify his own course, or to discover if, 
 judging from other cases, there can be said to exist a 
 ray of hope for the languishing sufferer. 
 
30 i PHYSICIANS AND THEIR RESPONSIBILITIES. 
 
 Philadelphia is blessed with many eminent physi- 
 cians — men who have devoted their lives to the pro- 
 fession, and who still, with gray heads and large 
 families around them, are as willing as ever to attend 
 the bed-side of the invalid. Our chief Universities 
 have long been regarded as among the ablest in the 
 world, while we have course upon course of medical 
 lectures, accompanied with surgical demonstrations 
 by able hands — so that, so far as medical skill and - 
 science are concerned, our good city may well be 
 selected as the temporary home of the afflicted. 
 
 But the life of a Physician is about the last we 
 should choose, if we desired comfort, occasional quiet, 
 and an escape from the many vexations of the out- 
 door world. Liable to be called up at every hour of 
 the night — compelled to pass from one scene of suffer- 
 ing to another, and reproached finally, as too often 
 occurs, when, after having exhausted his medical skill 
 in vain, the patient dies, and the relatives cruelly 
 assign false treatment as the cause ! These are some 
 of the horrors of the profession. A Surgeon's life, as 
 it seems to us, must be still more exceptionable. 
 There must be a dreadful responsibility in the mind 
 of every man who determines to undertake some criti- 
 cal and important operation. "We remember that 
 eight or ten years ago, we were quite intimate with 
 a young man from the South, who had just graduated 
 with signal honor at the University, and who was re- 
 garded as possessing the finest talents. Soon after 
 our acquaintance fell off in a great measure, in con- 
 sequence of the different nature of our pursuits, but 
 we ever and anon heard his name mingled with some 
 skillful surgical operation, and he now ranks among 
 
PHYSICIANS AND THEIR RESPONSIBILITIES. 305 
 
 the most eminent. Nevertheless, as we met and con- 
 versed with him a few weeks back, we were not a 
 little struck with his altered appearance. Intellectual 
 and hollow-eyed, he had evidently studied with much 
 assiduity, while, as we remembered his gay, free man- 
 ner and rosy looks, some ten years before, the impres- 
 sion rose to our mind, that he was yielding himself a 
 martyr to his profession. 
 
 But we have Physicians of almost every descrip- 
 tion in a metropolis like this — from the man who has 
 devoted half a century to the acquisition of a knowl- 
 edge of the Art, and who still confesses he has yet 
 much to learn, to the miserable charlatan who, too 
 idle to make an honest livelihood by a respectable 
 trade, ventures, as an easier plan, to trifle with the 
 lives of his fellow-beings. We are not among those 
 who condemn all new remedies and systems, because 
 they happen to be new. On the contrary, we believe 
 the science of medicine to be as susceptible of im- 
 provement as any other. But for a miserable adven- 
 turer, without attainments or natural force of mind, 
 suddenly to fancy himself endowed with the power of 
 curing diseases, and without the slightest knowledge 
 of the anatomy of man to set himself up as a Doctor, 
 is, it seems to us, little better than a deliberate determi- 
 nation to assume the risk of committing wholesale 
 murder. And yet the country abounds with such 
 impostors. Heaven only knows the extent to which 
 they increase the bills of mortality ! 
 
 A good Physician is indeed a great blessing to 
 society — a man in whose head and whose heart you 
 can feel confidence — one who will never act rashly 
 and for mere experiment, but who, understanding 
 
806 THE PREJUDICED. 
 
 
 your disease, will arrest its progress as speedily as 
 possible, and who, acquainted with your disposition, 
 will throw in some apt remark at once calculated to 
 soothe, to animate, and to excite hope. We know a 
 lady in this city who says that the very voice of her 
 physician, listened to a few moments, will relieve an 
 ordinary headache ! Eather extravagant, to be sure — 
 but she has faith in the heart as well as the head of 
 her medical adviser, who is indeed a master of his 
 Art. It is quite possible, moreover, that, as many of 
 his patients are of the gentler sex, he frequently ac- 
 complishes as much by kind words and soothing ex- 
 pressions, as by his more formal prescriptions. His 
 example in this respect might be followed with ad- 
 vantage by others. 
 
 %k f ttJHbbb.-®jje Jallffitg of Jura 
 Juflgitrntt 
 
 " Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of men 
 The things that are not?" — Shakspeare. 
 
 BULWEE, in one of the best of his works, con- 
 tends that the human mind differs according to 
 the difference of place, that in our passions we are the 
 mere dependents of geographical situation. " Nay," he 
 adds, "the trifling variation of a single mile will revo- 
 lutionize the whole tides and torrents of our hearts. 
 The man who is meek, generous, benevolent, and 
 
THE PKEJUDICED. 307 
 
 kind, in the country, enters the scene of contest, and 
 becomes forthwith fiery or mean, selfish or stern, 
 just as if the virtues were only for solitude, and the 
 vices for a city." 
 
 This view is forcible, and is no doubt borne out in 
 many cases. Certain it is, that we are all more or less 
 the creatures of habit, taste, education, example, and 
 prejudice. Our judgments, our manners, our thoughts 
 and dispositions are all moulded or modified, to some 
 extent, by the lessons inculcated in youth, by the 
 society in which we have moved and mingled, by the 
 examples more immediately before us. Occasionally 
 a strong-minded man, a powerful genius, will break 
 away from these circumstances and associations, and 
 carve out a path and a character for himself. He 
 will see the error and delusion by which he has been 
 surrounded, distinguish between the false and the true, 
 and act accordingly. But these cases are rare. We 
 are so essentially fashioned and moulded by education, 
 habit and example, that although in after life we may 
 discover that much of the system under which we 
 were trained was erroneous, we find it extremely diffi- 
 cult to divest our minds of its influence. How true 
 is this in religious matters ! The Mohammedan is the 
 victim of the delusions of his race, his nation, and his 
 faith. So with many of the Pagans and barbarians 
 of the world, who have been taught to believe that 
 scenes the most outrageous and sanguinary, are not 
 only excusable, but virtuous and commendable. But 
 even in civilized nations — among the wise, the good, 
 and the benevolent — how fearful sometimes is the 
 reign of prejudice. How often do we see deeds of 
 bigotry and crime committed, and all, too, under an 
 19 
 
308 THE PREJUDICED. 
 
 impression that such a course is acceptable in the eyes 
 of Heaven. The fanatics, the enthusiasts, the madmen 
 of the hour, who, in disseminating their own peculiar 
 doctrines, seldom fail to trample on the rights of . 
 others, and 1 to violate many of the simple, sublime, 
 and godlike precepts of the Christian religion — who 
 forget or disregard the duty of doing unto others as 
 they would they should do unto them, nevertheless, 
 so utterly are they blinded by passion and prejudice, 
 believe themselves models of purity, sacred zeal and 
 benevolent forbearance. They are bewildered for a 
 time, their minds are clouded and darkened by pre- 
 judice, their hearts are excited and infuriate, and 
 thus, even while they deceive themselves into a belief 
 that their conduct is all that it should be, they are 
 violating the simplest duties of humanity. " In form- 
 ing a judgment," says Sir Philip Sidney, "lay your 
 hearts void of foretaken opinions ; else, whatsoever is 
 done or said, will be measured by a wrong rule, like 
 them who have the jaundice, to whom every thing 
 appeareth yellow." 
 
 In the language of another distinguished writer, 
 " the most necessary talent in the man of conversation, 
 is a good judgment. He that has this in perfection, is 
 master of his companion, without letting him see it ; 
 and has the same advantage over men of any other 
 qualifications whatsoever, as one that can see, would 
 have over a blind man of ten times his strength." 
 
 A clear, mental vision, a calm yet enlightened 
 mind, a just and benevolent understanding, these are 
 indeed high characteristics, priceless blessings. How 
 few possess them ! How few are divested of prejudice ! 
 How few can discuss even ordinary topics, without 
 
THE PREJUDICED. 609 
 
 permitting selfish, and one-sided feelings to interfere, 
 without allowing the errors of education, the force of 
 bad example, the power of self-interest, to exercise an 
 unworthy control! "It is with our judgments as our 
 watches," says Pope ; " none go just alike, yet each 
 believes his own." 
 
 Even in small matters, every-day affairs, the little 
 courtesies and civilities of life, the warped and clouded 
 aspect of prejudice is often distinctly visible. Few 
 can converse ten minutes, and upon any subject, with- 
 out indulging to some extent in this weakness and 
 vice. Our likes and dislikes are certain to manifest 
 themselves. Sometimes, too, we imbibe an antipathy 
 against an individual, on grounds wholly untenable. 
 We know nothing of his or her character really and 
 positively, and yet either through an error of our 
 own, or the misrepresentation of another, we form an 
 estimate and paint a portrait in our own mind, any thing 
 but correct. This will sometimes exist for years ; and 
 we will speak and act again and again, under the in- 
 fluence of this prejudice, and in most cases with rank 
 injustice. There are few, indeed, who have not their 
 peculiar prejudices, who have not imbibed a distaste 
 to this or that individual, and without the slightest 
 cause, the least j ustifi able reason. 
 
 "The prejudiced," says Barrow, "are apt to con- 
 verse with but one sort of men, to read but one sort 
 of booKs, to come in hearing of but one sort of 
 notions ; the truth is, they canton out to themselves a 
 little Goshen in the intellectual world, where light 
 shines, and as they conclude, day blesses them ; but 
 the rest of the vast expansum they give up to night 
 
 and darkness, and so avoid coming near it." It often 
 19 
 
310 THE TEMPER AND THE TONGUE, 
 
 happens that there is the broadest contrast in the 
 personal appearance of an individual and his real 
 character. The external may be forbidding and re- 
 pulsive, and yet the heart may teem with the noblest 
 sympathies, the kindliest virtues. Therefore, we should 
 at least endeavor to think well of our fellow-creatures, 
 until we have cause for an unfavorable opinion. We 
 should strive to avoid foolish and unfounded pre- 
 judices, always remembering that in matters of opinion, 
 taste and judgment, we are quite as fallible as the rest 
 of the world, and just as likely to be in error. 
 
 %\t Cemptr atto ijjt Congut. 
 
 "Give me the heart that fain would hide- 
 Would fain another's fault efface ; 
 
 How can it pleasure human pride 
 To prove humanity hut base ? 
 
 No: let us reach a higher mood, 
 A nobler estimate of man ; 
 
 Be earnest in the search for good, 
 And speak of all the best we can." 
 
 WE some time since ventured to offer a word of 
 reproof in relation to the habit of speaking 
 harshly, hastily, or without due reflection. The evil 
 is so common, and is often attended with such painful 
 consequences, that we will be excused for referring to 
 it again. It may be said to form one of the most 
 serious annoyances of social life. And when a family 
 or a circle is troubled with an individual who is 
 afflicted with the infirmity alluded to, who is in the 
 
THE TEMPER AND THE TONGUE. 311 
 
 habit, either from rashness, thoughtlessness, or bitter- 
 ness of disposition, of making unkind, unfeeling, or 
 violent remarks, the vice at times becomes almost in- 
 sufferable. Hearts are wounded, the sensitive are ex- 
 cited and stung, old griefs are revived, frailties are 
 subjected to an improper scrutiny, and thus pain is 
 caused in various ways. Individuals have no right, 
 even under the plea of frankness and candor, to make 
 use of harsh and irritating language, to allude to sub- 
 jects of a delicate or unpleasant nature, to revive the 
 recollection of errors repented, or even to reproach, in 
 a bitter and vindictive spirit, the exhibition of exist- 
 ing frailties. Some persons, too, are in the habit of 
 getting into an undue excitement on public and pri- 
 vate questions, and while in this state, of denouncing 
 the objects of their passion with a degree of malevo- 
 lence and rancor so strong as to be quite painful to 
 the listeners. A friend informs us that a case of this 
 kind occurred a few days since in an omnibus. The 
 vehicle was pretty well crowded with ladies and gen- 
 tlemen, when a somewhat exciting subject became the 
 theme of conversation between two of the latter. They 
 talked coolly enough for a little while, but soon the 
 temper of one of the parties was roused, his language 
 became stronger and stronger, his manner, voice, and 
 the expression of his countenance, changed with his 
 words, and he poured forth a torrent of invective so 
 bitter and burning, that the other passengers were not 
 only astonished but sadly annoyed; and all tuned 
 upon each other looks of congratulation when the 
 hot-tempered individual pulled the string that check«d 
 the vehicle and took his departure. His manner wa3 
 most unpleasant. The same sentiments might havs* 
 
812 THE TEMPER AND THE TONGUE. 
 
 been expressed with far more emphasis and effect, in 
 a calmer, milder, and yet in a sufficiently decided 
 spirit. Bat the impression made was, that the ex- 
 citable one possessed a very unhappy and tyrannical 
 temper, and that the less the lovers of peace, quiet, 
 and courtesy had to do with him the better. 
 
 But there is another description of rashness of 
 speech that deserves to be noticed and rebuked. A 
 gentleman informs us that, a year or two ago, he at- 
 tended quite a brilliant party in a neighboring city. 
 in the course of the evening he was conversing with 
 an estimable friend, when a somewhat flippant ac- 
 quaintance came up, and pointing to a lady on the 
 opposite side of the room, exclaimed, in a half whis- 
 per, but sufficiently loud to be heard by the three, 
 "Who is that frightfully ugly female talking to 
 Mrs. ?" 
 
 "That," replied the interrogated, at once pained, 
 mortified, and confused, "is the wife of my friend 
 Mr. B." — and he immediately bowed to the gentleman 
 with whom he had been conversing. Fortunately 
 Mr. B. was a man of good sense and manageable tem- 
 per, and was thus able to appreciate insolence and 
 puppyism at their true value. The imprudent and 
 impertinent youth stammered out an apology, but he 
 was evidently so abashed and overwhelmed by his 
 blunder, that he scarcely knew what he was saying. 
 The incident afforded him a lesson, however, and for 
 a time, at least, the effect was salutary. The true 
 doctrine, in all matters of conversation, is beautifully 
 expressed by a clever poet of the present day : 
 
 " Nay, speak no ill — a kindly word 
 Can never leave a sting behind, ' 
 
THE TEMPER AND THE TONGUE. 313 
 
 And oh ! to breathe each tale we've heard 
 
 Is far beneath a noble mind. 
 Full oft a better seed is sown 
 
 By choosing thus the kinder plan; 
 For if but little good be known, 
 
 Still let us speak the best we can." 
 
 This rule is plain and simple. If we cannot speak 
 well and favorably of an acquaintance or friend, let us 
 remain silent. If we cannot say something calculated 
 to cheer, gladden, and delight, let us at least not pur- 
 sue a contrary course. Our duty is to afford as much 
 pleasure, and to produce as much good, as we can in 
 the world, and if our means with reference to these 
 subjects be limited, we should at least endeavor to re- 
 strain the evil propensities of our nature, to curb and 
 control the demons of scandal, jealousy, ill-will, and 
 all uncharitableness. We all have infirmities and fail- 
 ings enough. We all require the exercise of generosity 
 and forbearance. Our imperfections, although invisible 
 to ourselves, may be quite glaring to others. When, 
 therefore, we indulge a spirit of generous and charita- 
 ble forbearance in relation to the errors of the rest of 
 the world, we in some degree at least entitle ourselves 
 to a similar judgment with reference to our own. 
 Nothing is ever lost by kindness and charity. No 
 heart is pained, no sensibility is wounded, by words 
 of courtesy, benevolence, and good breeding ; while a 
 rash word, a violent expression, a hasty or an unhappy 
 remark, may inflict a keen pang — may cause a wound 
 that will fester and rankle for years. 
 
 "Then speak no ill, but lenient be 
 
 To others' failings as your own. 
 If you're the first a fault to see, 
 
 Be not the first to make it known ; 
 For life is but a passing day — 
 
 No lip may tell how brief its span. 
 Then oh I the little time we stay, 
 
 Let's speak of all the best we can." 
 
" The candid spirit is lighter than a linnet's heart." 
 
 IN the beautiful language of an eminent writer, 
 " when once a concealment or deceit has been prac- 
 ticed in matters where all should be fair and open as 
 the day — confidence can never be restored, no more 
 than you can restore the white bloom to the grape or 
 to the plum which you have once pressed in your hand." 
 How true is this ; and yet what a neglected truth by a 
 great portion of mankind. Falsehood is not only one 
 of the meanest and most humiliating of vices, but, 
 sooner or later, it is almost certain to lead to many 
 serious crimes. With partners in trade — with part- 
 ners for life — with friends — with lovers, how import- 
 ant is confidence. How essential that all guile and 
 hypocrisy should be guarded against, in the intercourse 
 between such parties. — How much misery would be 
 avoided in the history of many lives, had truth and 
 sincerity been the guiding and controling motives in- 
 stead of prevarication and deceit. " Any vice," said a 
 parent, in our hearing, a few days since, " any vice, at 
 least among the frailties of a milder character, but 
 falsehood. Far better that my child should commit 
 an error or do a wrong and confess it, than escape the 
 penalty, however severe, by falsehood and hypocrisy. 
 Let me know the worst, and a remedy may possibly 
 be applied. But keep me in the dark — let me be mis- 
 led or deceived, and it is impossible to tell at what un 
 (314) 
 
PERILS OF FALSEHOOD. 315 
 
 prepared hour a crushing blow — an overwhelming ex- 
 posure may come." 
 
 Falsehood is the mask by which many other errors 
 may be and are concealed. It may, moreover, make 
 vice for a time appear as virtue, and thus betray the 
 innocent and unsuspecting. Conversing a few days 
 since with a friend, we detailed a statement of a some- 
 what remarkable character, and at the same time men- 
 tioned our author. Upon this our friend burst into a 
 hearty laugh, and treated the whole story as a weak 
 invention, or at least a wild exaggeration. "For," 
 said he, " your informant is a noted falsifier. Every 
 thing he says must be received with considerable al- 
 lowance." And then he went on to cite several cases 
 in which he had been deceived in a like manner. 
 " But," he continued, " having discovered the propen- 
 sity of ' to fib, I govern my actions accordingly 
 
 with regard to his stories." What a lamentable in- 
 stance of the folly and madness of falsehood! And 
 yet this instance is by no means rare, neither is the 
 vice peculiar to the rougher sex. Alas ! it is too pre- 
 valent everywhere. The disposition to boast, exult, 
 and make a display, is one that in many cases induces 
 falsehood. Who cannot single out some male or fe- 
 male friend, with whom the habit has become almost 
 incurable, of describing his or her adventures in a 
 strain of the highest exaggeration, of boasting of friends 
 and associates, the style in which such friends live, the 
 extent of their means, the parties they give, and other 
 similar matters, under a belief that such statements are 
 calculated to add to the importance of the person who 
 makes them ! This is indeed a petty spirit of untruth, 
 and although comparatively harmless, and indulged 
 
SI 6 PERILS OF FALSEHOOD. 
 
 merely for the gratification of a foolish pride or a mor- 
 bid vanity, it is certain to destroy confidence and to sap 
 character. 
 
 How forcible is the contrast between an individual 
 who is noted for candor and truth, and one notorious 
 for qualities exactly the reverse. In the first case, full 
 reliance is placed upon every statement that is made 
 — and in the last, every thing is listened to with doubt 
 and incredulity. In one, the character is brightened 
 by- the lustre of a heaven-born principle — and in the 
 other, it is darkened by a frailty — a vice of the most 
 deplorable description. " Truth," says Locke, " whether 
 in or out of fashion, is the measure of knowledge and 
 the business of the understanding ; whatsoever is be- 
 yond that, however authorized by consent, or recom- 
 mended by rarity, is nothing but ignorance, or some- 
 thing worse." 
 
 Between man and wife, a system of concealment, 
 prevarication and falsehood, is not only culpable and 
 wicked, but it must sooner or later lead to the destruc- 
 tion of every thing like confidence — of all harmony of 
 feeling — of esteem, respect, and affection. Alas ! for 
 that condition of existence which is made up of daily 
 and hourly illustrations of deceit and treachery — alas, 
 for the miserable beings who are bound together for 
 life, and who, nevertheless, cannot bare their hearts to 
 each other, cannot look into each other's faces with 
 frankness and confidence — who, in brief, are in the 
 daily utterance and practice of falsehood. They 
 are in constant bondage to guile, and the galley-slave 
 chained to his oar, must be happy in comparison. 
 Avoid then, gentle reader — avoid as you would some 
 deadly poison, every thing like falsehood or deceit 
 
THE UNSATISFIED. 817 
 
 toward the objects of jour friendship or affection, 
 for although the deception may succeed for months 
 or even years, detection will inevitably come, and the 
 betrayed and indignant victim will turn with jealous 
 horror upon the past, and the fatal policy, even if for- 
 given, will never be forgotten. 
 
 €k WsaMk 
 
 "That man who to the utmost of his power augments the great mass of public 
 or individual happiness, will, under every institution, and in spite of all opposi- 
 tion, be the happiest of all men himself." — Rochefoucault. 
 
 A SOUND sentiment, but how neglected — how 
 disregarded! It is curious to look through 
 society, and see how few, even among the wealthy, 
 believe they have enough and are satisfied. The de- 
 sire is for more — still more. Even many who have 
 incomes of thousands per annum, and are tottering 
 upon the verge of the grave, still take a deep interest 
 in pecuniary matters, and are as eager for gain as when 
 they were first ascending the hill to competence and 
 affluence. They can calculate calmly and coolly 
 every thing but the chances of human existence and 
 future destiny. And yet some of their money specu- 
 lations extend far beyond the grave, all the probabili- 
 ties considered. They toil on as if destined to live 
 forever, and are not a whit more humane and liberal 
 at the age of threescore, and with hundreds of thou- 
 sands at their disposal, than thirty or forty years be- 
 
813 THE UNSATISFIED. 
 
 fore, when they were in comparative want. If they 
 were to sit down and make a fair estimate, they would 
 find it difficult to expend their incomes. And yet 
 they are unwilling to distribute the surplus for the 
 benefit of the wretched and the needy, for the promo- 
 tion of their own happiness here, and the advantage 
 of their hopes of bliss hereafter. And this, too, not- 
 withstanding, in the language of an energetic writer, 
 " every man's absolute obligations and duties increase 
 in proportion to his wisdom, power, and wealth ; and 
 all omissions in expressions of benevolence, are as 
 criminal and injurious to the world as fraud, theft, or 
 any other villainy." 
 
 It appears difficult to ascertain when one has 
 enough. The philosophy of being satisfied is hard to 
 learn and to practice. More — still more! This is 
 the desire of the human heart. The richer we grow, 
 the more avaricious we become. At least, this is the 
 case with too many. We cannot regulate our desires, 
 cannot control our passion for wealth. Every want 
 may be supplied in moderation — we may be perfectly 
 independent, nay, rich — but how difficult is it to ex- 
 ercise the calm and self- restraining virtue of content- 
 ment 1 If in early life we start in the world with 
 narrow means, we fancy that on arriving at a certain 
 point we shall be satisfied. Let us (so we argue) ac- 
 cumulate a few thousands, and we shall be perfectly 
 happy. Nay, we promise that under such circum- 
 stances, the poor shall never need a friend, the beggar 
 shall never be turned away from our doors. But 
 with money how often comes hardness of heart ! How 
 often do we lose the virtue of humility, our sympathy 
 with humanity, and our sense of dependence upon 
 
THE UNSATISFIED. 319 
 
 Providence ! Even if particularly fortunate, how apt 
 are we to attribute success to our own merits and 
 energy — nay, and to turn upon others, who, perhaps, 
 with far more industry and toil, have nevertheless 
 gone behind hand, with looks and words of reproach 
 and contempt ! How rare are the instances of indi- 
 viduals with large means who are satisfied, and seek 
 for no further accumulations — who, grateful for their 
 prosperity, live generously in the true sense of the 
 phrase — and, while they provide with abundance for 
 their own families, also contribute in a liberal spirit 
 to the many charities of the day ! And wealth too — 
 how it is worshiped! How the multitude bow and 
 cringe before it, and turn aside with indifference from 
 the virtuous poor, who by necessity are clothed in 
 rags! How few discriminate on grounds of merit 
 alone — regard the soul, the spirit, the conduct, the 
 character, without reference to externals or mere 
 worldly position ! It is this course that strengthens 
 the general desire to become rich. Our system, our 
 society, the way of the world, induce the young, when 
 setting out in life, to believe that wealth is the great 
 object of existence — that without it life has few charms 
 — and hence, the aim is, to get money, to become 
 possessed of the means of power and position, and the 
 source of adulation. If it were possible for men, even 
 when they accumulate enough and to spare, to be 
 satisfied, to realize the philosophy of moderation, to 
 act in a liberal and benevolent spirit with reference to 
 the unfortunate and needy, how many would be bene- 
 fited — how the drooping would be cheered, the down- 
 cast raised up, and the faltering take hope and cour- 
 age ! If only one-half the citizens of this community 
 
320 THE RESCUED FROM CRIME. 
 
 who have surplus incomes of thousands per annum, 
 and who cannot, in the course of human events and 
 human probabilities, ever be reduced to want, would 
 apply this surplus to the benefit of the really merito- 
 rious though suffering and needy, what happy results 
 would ensue! If we could only be satisfied — if we 
 could only be moderate in our wants and wishes, and 
 act accordingly — how diffusive and widely-spread 
 would be the blessings to society at large ! 
 
 §ta;ateir ixm Crim— lenses of Jkfagt. 
 
 " The saved are there, who would have been the lost." 
 
 WE were never more forcibly reminded of the 
 benevolence of the spirit which prompted the 
 .establishment of Houses of Kefuge, or asylums for 
 the rescue and reformation of youthful offenders, than 
 on a recent occasion, while perusing a glowing and 
 heart-fraught passage in " The Child of the Islands," 
 a charming and truly touching poem, by Mrs. Norton. 
 Throughout the production, a deep and lively sym- 
 pathy for the poor is apparent, and the reader cannot, 
 no matter what opinions he may have previously en- 
 tertained of the author, but be grateful for her stirring 
 appeals in behalf of the wretched, the outcast, and the 
 forsaken. If, in the language of Holy Writ, there be 
 " more joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth, 
 than over ninety and nine just persons," how truly 
 

 THE RESCUED FROM CRIME. 32 1 
 
 felicitous must be the reflections and consolations of 
 those of our fellow-citizens who dedicate a large por- 
 tion of their time and their means to the regeneration 
 of the friendless and the poor — to the withdrawal from 
 the paths of vice and the temptations of guilt, of the 
 young, the inexperienced, the parentless, and even the 
 erring ! In this view, Houses of .Refuge, retreats from 
 the world, where the youthful offender may be taught 
 the error of his ways, the downward and desolating 
 tendency of crime and ruin here, and the fearful con- 
 sequences hereafter, are calculated to prove productive 
 of infinite good. Doubtless, the managers, patrons, 
 and others directly concerned in these works of true 
 charity, have, in the history of cases that pass imme- 
 diately under their observation, much cause to stimu- 
 late them to renewed efforts, much to render them 
 grateful to Divine Providence. Ever and anon they 
 must see in society, or hear from distant points of the 
 Union, of individuals, formerly tenants for a season 
 of the Refuge, fully restored to the paths of virtue, 
 integrity, and well-doing, and discharging their obli- 
 gations with propriety and fidelity, as sons, daughters, 
 husbands, wives, upright and honorable members of 
 society. Cases of this kind are, we have reason to 
 know, by no means rare. Nay, we could point out 
 instances in which lads, who, in their early career, had 
 been abandoned to the most pernicious habits, have, 
 through the agency of the Refuge, and its regenerating 
 influences, not only gone into the world fully restored 
 to correct views of life and its duties, but have sub- 
 sequently attained posts of honor and distinction in 
 the land. 
 
 One instance of this kind is suited to compensate 
 
322 THE RESCUED FROM CRIME. 
 
 for hundreds of disappointments. The restoration of 
 a single human being to integrity and usefulness, who 
 but for such an institution would, in all probability, 
 have degenerated from day to day and }^ear to year, 
 until the Alms House or the Penitentiary became his 
 final place of abode, is a reward well calculated to 
 gladden the heart of every true-minded philanthropist. 
 But we repeat — illustrations of this kind are not rare. 
 Hundreds have been saved who would have been lost, 
 but for the happy operations of these institutions. 
 So, too, with many other charities of a kindred char- 
 acter. Benevolence and Mercy are frequently doomed 
 to disappointment. The heart is sometimes too vicious, 
 the habits too fixed to be moved and influenced by 
 efforts of kindness the most disinterested and perse- 
 vering. But in the aggregate, how many are saved ! 
 What a vast amount of good is accomplished ! The 
 influence, too, of charity is in a certain sense all-per- 
 vading. Others, seeing the happy results in this case 
 or that, are induced also to contribute their mite. 
 Even the narrative of a case of reform, of a vicious 
 child converted into a virtuous man, of a profligate 
 son restored and rendered grateful and filial, will fre- 
 quently touch a heart which had before seemed obdu- 
 rate, and call forth sympathies and humanities that 
 before were cold and torpid. We say, then, to phi- 
 lanthropists of every class, your efforts are not and can- 
 not be lost. Although good fruit may not appear to- 
 day, still persevere and hope on, and cheering results 
 will be realized to-morrow, this year or next, or per- 
 haps when the spirit that prompted the generous work 
 has soared to a brighter and a better world. The 
 very poem by Mrs. Norton, to which we have alluded^ 
 
THE RESCUED FROM CRIME. 323 
 
 is calculated to exercise a salutary influence. It will 
 be read with satisfaction by all who for years have 
 sympathized with the juvenile delinquents of our own 
 or other countries, and have endeavored to render 
 their sympathy active and efficient, by measures of 
 remedy and . reform. It may also touch the heart of 
 some affluent citizen who, turning back to the period 
 of his childhood, remembers the shoals and quick- 
 sands of vice by which he was surrounded, and also 
 remembers the counsel and assistance of some chari- 
 table individual, who warned him from the wrong, 
 and directed his footsteps aright. What, indeed, 
 could be more eloquent or more appropriate than 
 language like this : 
 
 " A mournful memory in my bosom stirs ! 
 
 A recollection of the lovely isle, 
 Where, in the purple shadow of thy firs, 
 
 Parkhurst ! and gloomy in the summer smile. 
 
 Stands the child's prison, (since we must defile 
 So blest a refuge with so curs'd a name,) 
 
 The home of those whose former home was vile, 
 Who, dogged, sullen, scoffing, hither came, 
 Tender in growth and years, but long confirmed in shame. 
 
 The saved are there, who would have been the lost ; 
 
 The checked in crime, who might have been the doomed ; 
 The wild-brier buds, whose tangled path was crost 
 
 By nightshade poison trailing where they bloomed f 
 
 The wrecked, round whom the threatening surges boomed, 
 Borne in this life-boat far from peril's stress ; 
 
 The sheltered, o'er whose heads the thunder loomed; 
 Convicts (convicted of much helplessness) ; * 
 Exiles, whom Mercy guides through Guilt's dark wilderness." 
 
Jrttntsm— § m% |)rik, info ijmr f! enaltg. 
 
 " Of the two classes of people, I hardly know which is to be regarded with the 
 most distaste — the vulgar aping the genteel — or the genteel constantly sneering at 
 and endeavoring to distinguish themselves from the vulgar." — Eazlitt. 
 
 m 
 
 HOW vast a sum is annually sacrificed to vanity, 
 pride, and a desire to attract the eyes and excite „ 
 the jealousy of the world. The great multitude in a 
 city like this, in society constituted as ours, seek not 
 so much to enjoy themselves wisely and in moderation, 
 with the means at their disposal, as to live as others 
 do, to make as imposing a show, as great a display as 
 their neighbors, or if possible, to go beyond them. 
 The question is not — Is this right, proper and be- 
 coming ? Does it correspond with our circumstances 
 and prospects ? — but, What will Mr. this — or Mr. that 
 think? What will be said by our rival on the other 
 side of the way, or by the pompous and conceited 
 person who is in the habit of looking with real or 
 assumed disdain upon all around him ? And thus, 
 daily, and hourly, worldly comforts are squandered, 
 savings are expended, toil is rendered more and more 
 indispensable; and as we descend the hill-side of life, 
 we find we are less and less qualified to struggle and 
 wrestle against the vicissitudes of the world. We 
 sacrifice not onhv present content and real enjoyment, 
 but the means by which we might become inde- 
 pendent, to a certain extent at least, and through 
 which the closing hours of life might be brightened 
 (324) 
 
PRETENSION. 325 
 
 and sweetened. One half of the world live not for 
 themselves, and in conformity with their own tastes 
 and convictions ; but because they suppose that their 
 movements are regarded with unusual scrutiny by 
 their neighbors, and because pride and vanity prompt 
 them to make a better appearance than their circum- 
 stances in reality authorize. Again ; how frequently 
 do we see cases of individuals who have been fortu- 
 nate, who have been elevated from comparative 
 poverty and obscurity, anxious to forget their origin, 
 early fortunes and associations, and by extraordinary 
 display and profuse expenditure, to make it appear 
 to the world, that they are something quite superior 
 in birth, in family, in position and in affluence — that 
 they, in short, are the porcelain of society, while the 
 rest of mankind are merely common crockery. A 
 few may be thus deceived, and may look up to the 
 pretenders with vacant wonder and ignorant admira- 
 tion. But the many who can penetrate through the 
 shallow veil in which vanity and pride attempt to 
 disguise themselves, look on calmly, philosophically, 
 and instead of being dazzled and excited, merely pity 
 and contemn the poor fools who thus waste their sub- 
 stance in idle and unmeaning display. The folly to 
 which we have referred, is confined almost exclusively 
 to the mushrooms of the hour, the creatures of the 
 day, who fancy that money is character, that display 
 is gentility, that notoriety is reputation. In nothing- 
 is a vulgar mind and a low taste more clearly mani- 
 fested than in such demonstrations. The educated, 
 the polished, and the refined, no matter how affluent, 
 are easy, graceful, unpretending and courteous. True 
 elegance they regard as consisting in pure simplicity. 
 20 
 
826 PKETENSIOX. 
 
 They despise affectation as an infallible indication of 
 ignorance. The mere vanity of dress and of ostenta- 
 tion, are viewed with just contempt, and while they 
 are careful to preserve the elements of neatness and 
 taste in all that concerns them, they regard it as one 
 of the essential requisites of true refinement, to be as 
 unaffected, as unpretending, as mild and affable to all 
 within their circle as possible. 
 
 There are hundreds at this moment in Philadelphia, 
 who prefer living in a fine house, and dressing in 
 fashionable style, to the indulgence of even the ordi- 
 nary comforts of life, and the proper education of their 
 children. They expend a considerable sura every 
 year, but they do so with a false judgment ; and in 
 their aim to appear better than they really are — or 
 wealthier, we should rather say — they sow the seeds 
 of their own ruin. How many, too, when they find 
 the world going wrong with them, when they discover 
 that their expenses have been greater than their gains, 
 hesitate to retrench, refuse to remove into smaller 
 apartments, neglect to adopt a system of economy; 
 and all from an apprehension that the world, the cold, 
 heartless, and scandal-loving world, will point the 
 finger of ridicule, or allude to the change with a shrug 
 of mock commiseration. They know their duty, they 
 see the ruin before them ; and yet they lack the moral 
 nerve to act as their judgments dictate, lest such 
 and such an opinion should be uttered by this friend 
 or that neighbor ; lest the world should be able to 
 recognize and speak of the adverse change. Pride 
 and vanity whisper, too, that affairs are not so bad, 
 that the prospect is not so gloomy, that some fortunate 
 turn will soon take place ; and thus the poor victim 
 
PRETENSION. 327 
 
 is led on from day to day, until all is lost, and lie finds 
 it impossible, even by economy, to recover the ground 
 or opportunity that he saw passing from beneath his 
 feet, or eluding his grasp. Alas ! for the victims of 
 vanity and pride. They are to be met in every street 
 and at every corner, in all classes and conditions of 
 society. Some are ruined who worship dress — others 
 who are fond of gay society — others who aim to make 
 a noise in the world — and others again who desire to 
 be looked up to as something superior — something 
 beyond the ranks of the common crowd. The feeling 
 which prompts their conduct is not only selfish, but 
 it is sinful ; and thus when they fall, there are few who 
 sympathize with their fate. Pride induces them to 
 strive to excite the envy of those around them, and in 
 the fancied success of their efforts they are happy. 
 They rejoice and are pleased, because others believe 
 them possessed of superior advantages of position and 
 wealth; and in this selfish feeling is their highest 
 bliss. But, we repeat, the penalty too often is ruin, 
 and the very necessity which induces them to retrace 
 their steps, to throw by the pomp and glitter in which 
 for a time they surrounded themselves, is, perhaps, 
 the bitterest cup of retribution that could be placed to 
 their lips. Moderation is a great virtue, and one that 
 is too little practiced by the inflated of the hour. 
 
 
T"TTB sometimes liear individuals, when in a state 
 H of excitement, and indeed occasionally when 
 calm and cool, avow a determination never to forgive 
 an offence or an insult on the part of another. This 
 disposition, so bitter and relentless, is not only anti- 
 Christian, but it is impolitic and unreasonable. If we 
 were to submit ourselves to the same severe standard 
 — if we were to have treasured up against us, never to 
 be cancelled or blotted from the record, all our errors 
 and misdoings, the future would present a sad and 
 gloomy prospect indeed. We are all more or less 
 liable to temptation — the temptations of feeling, of 
 passion, of prejudice, of ambition, and of interest. 
 And if, having yielded in any one case, the door of 
 penitence and forgiveness should be closed against 
 us, our lot would be embittered through life. Many, 
 very many, says an eminent writer, " fall before some 
 overpowering temptation, not only in youth but in 
 mature years. But God forbid that either the one or 
 the other should shut us out from all return. It is 
 only against the man who willfully and deliberately 
 chooses the wrong course, as that which he is deter- 
 mined to follow, that the door can be said to be closed. 
 For every other there is always an opportunity of re- 
 treading his steps— of abandoning evil, and seeking 
 right." 
 
 This is liberal, benevolent, and humane doctrine. 
 (328) 
 
THE UNFORGIVING. o29 
 
 No one can tell the inducements and vicissitudes by 
 which another has bee* surrounded — the struggle of 
 mind, the conflict of heart, the excitement, the mad- 
 ness and the despair, at the time of having departec 5 
 from vhe right path and followed the wrong. Wc 
 have known instances in which individuals have 
 trembled with dismay after the commission of some 
 act of guilt ; have been perfectly appalled at the enor- 
 mity of the offence, overwhelmed with shame and 
 confusion, and puzzled and confounded as to the in- 
 fatuation that could so have overcome them. Under 
 all such circumstances, the erring should, by gentle 
 and generous means, be won back to well doing. 
 They see the false step they have taken, and they 
 would gladly retrace the path. But the world too 
 often joins in the shout of reproach and indignation, 
 exults over the fall of another human being, and hur- 
 ries on the poor wretch who has committed the error 
 to some more desperate act of darkness and despair. 
 There is no angel voice to whisper consolation, to 
 urge penitence, to utter sympathy and forgiveness. 
 And yet mercy is one of the noblest attributes of our 
 nature. The man who can look with a lenient eye 
 upon the errors of his fellow-creatures ; who, seeing 
 they have done wrong, is willing to make allowances, 
 and to urge them to return again to the paths of recti- 
 tude and of duty, is indeed a Christian in the true, the 
 real, the ennobling sense. Would that this disposition 
 were more general; would that greater efforts were 
 made to win the erring from their first misdeeds, to 
 forgive them for the past, and cheer them on to better 
 conduct for the future. 
 
 When, however, the guilty, by sudden temptation 
 
830 THE UNFOEGIVING. 
 
 by penury, passion, or despair, find themselves not 
 only denounced and abandoned, but hunted and per- 
 secuted, the heart shrinks and changes within them. 
 The better qualities of their nature are embittered, 
 their faith in humanity is weakened or lost, and they 
 rush on wildly and blindly in a dark career of guilt 
 and all its fearful consequences. Who has not com- 
 mitted error? Who has not strayed away from high 
 principle, unwavering rectitude, and the lofty standard 
 of perfection ? And yet who would not revolt at the 
 idea of having the door of forgiveness closed against 
 him — of being doomed to suffer, no matter how deep 
 his contrition, or how severe his penalty of regret, re- 
 morse, and punishment? A penitent should ever be 
 welcomed again to the fold of virtue. If, in the first 
 place, he found himself unable to resist the temptations 
 of his position in the world, if despite his convictions 
 to the contrary, he nevertheless went astray and kept 
 astray for years, the effort by which he at last re- 
 covered himself, and asserted the supremacy of the 
 moral and the right over the immoral and wrong, 
 must have been a vigorous and a noble one. He de- 
 serves credit therefor ; and, if sincere, should not only 
 be taken by the hand freely and willingly, but the 
 darkness of his past character should be blotted for- 
 ever from the memory. We should forget, if possible, 
 and assuredly we should forgive. We should act 
 toward others here, in humble imitation of the spirit 
 that our faith teaches us to hope from the justice and 
 the mercy of the Great Judge hereafter. How beauti- 
 fully is this idea conveyed by Tupper : 
 
 " To forget ? It is hard for a man with a mind, 
 However his heart may forgive, 
 To hlot out all perils and dangers behind, 
 And but for the future to live. 
 
THE PEEILS OF EXCITEMENT. 331 
 
 Then how shall it be ? for at every turn 
 
 Recollection the spirit will fret, 
 And the ashes of injury smolder and burn, 
 
 Though we strive to forgive and forget. 
 
 Oh, hearken ! my tongue shall the riddle unseal, 
 
 And mind shall be partner with heart, 
 While to thyself I bid conscience reveal, 
 
 And show thee how evil thou art. 
 Eemember thy follies, thy sins, and— thy crimes ; 
 
 How vast is that infinite debt ! 
 Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times 
 
 Been swift to forgive and forget ! 
 
 Brood not on insults or injuries old, 
 
 For thou art injurious too — 
 Count not their sum till the total is told, 
 
 For thou art unkind and untrue ; 
 And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven, 
 
 Now Mercy with Justice is met, 
 Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of Heaven, 
 
 And learn to forgive and forget 1 
 
 Tes, yes, let a man, when his enemy weeps, 
 
 Be quick to receive him a friend ; 
 For thus on his head in kindness he heaps 
 
 Hot coals, — to refine and amend ! 
 And hearts that are Christian more eagerly yeara' 
 
 As a nurse on her innocent pet, 
 Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn, 
 
 And whisper, • Forgive and forget.' " 
 
 %\t perils of (ktkwti,-Mi-€wki. 
 
 " For I have often seen the noble, erring spirit 
 Wrecked on the shoals of passion, and numbered of the lost." 
 
 THE people of this country are not, generally speak- 
 ing, so excitable as those of many other sections 
 of the globe ; and yet our history proves that we have 
 a very considerable portion of inflammable material in 
 our composition ; and that reason does not in all cases 
 
332 THE PERILS OF EXCITEMENT. 
 
 
 control our individual movements and popular demon- 
 strations. The perils of excitement are great. Crime 
 chooses the hours of passion for the commission of 
 her darkest, her bloodiest deeds; and thus, on visit- 
 ing our penitentiaries and questioning the wretched 
 inmates there confined, we shall find that four-fifths of 
 them were monomaniacs at the time they violated the 
 laws. They labored under some species of momentary 
 insanity, were mad with the excitement of jealousy, 
 revenge, or some other fearful emotion of the human 
 heart. There are few cool and deliberate villains in 
 the world, or few, at least, who commit great offences 
 when perfectly self-possessed, calm and collected. Cer- 
 tainly, in the early career of most criminals, they be- 
 come guilty, and violate the laws while laboring under 
 temporary mental derangement, as the victims of in- 
 temperance, while mad from passion, or drunk with 
 excitement. Indeed, there are few who do not at times 
 lose the reins of self-control — and yield to the angry 
 and discordant demons within, — who do not forget 
 themselves for a brief season, to the shame and morti- 
 fication of their after hours of quiet and reflection. For 
 ourselves, we plead guilty. How is it with you, 
 gentle reader? As with individuals, so with nations. 
 What a frightful commentary upon the horrors of 
 national excitement, perverted and misdirected, is pre- 
 sented in the sanguinary records of the French Kevo- 
 lution. But history abounds with fearful illustrations 
 in murders, massacres, unholy wars, and in the bloody 
 doings of bigotry and intolerance. Excitement, indeed, 
 is contagious. How little a thing, even in a city like 
 this, will sometimes gather a crowd together, lead to 
 angry contention, ill-will, and even blows ! The form 
 
THE PERILS OF EXCITEMENT. 333 
 
 too — the features, the outward man, how these are in 
 many cases moulded or modified by the nature within ! 
 
 "The like iu frame and feature hath much alike iu spirit ; 
 
 3uch a shape hath such a soul, so that a deep discerner 
 
 From his make will read the mau, and err not far in judgment ; 
 
 Yea, aud it holdeth in the converse, that growing similarity of mind 
 
 Fiudeth or maketh for itself an apposite dwelling in the body ; 
 
 Accident may modify, circumstances may bevil, externals seem to change it, 
 
 But still the primitive crystal is latent in its many variations: 
 
 For the map of the face, and the picture of the eye, are traced by the pen of passion ; 
 
 And the mind fashioneth a tabernacle suitable for itself. 
 
 A mean spirit boweth down the back, and the bowing fostereth meanness ; 
 
 A resolute purpose knitteth the knees, and the firm tread nourisheth decision ; 
 
 Love looketh softly from the eye, and kindleth love by looking ; 
 
 Hate furroweth the brow, and a man may frown till he hateth ; 
 
 For mind and body, spirit and matter, have reciprocities of power, 
 
 And each keepeth up the strife ; a man's works make or mar him." 
 
 Look at the excitable, if any such are within your 
 circle of acquaintance, and find this theory illustrated. 
 The eye — the lip — the manner — the voice — will all 
 tell the story of the unquiet spirit within. 
 
 How essential, then, that in the education of the 
 minds and the hearts of the young, an effort should be 
 made to inculcate the lessons and the principles of 
 self-denial, self-control, and self-constraint! How fear- 
 ful is the picture, when members of the same family 
 give way to petulance, anger and excitement, and con- 
 vert the domestic circle into a scene of mimic war ! 
 When brother is heard contending with brother — father 
 with son — and the lookers-on and the listeners, if any 
 happen to be present, are shocked at scenes so painful 
 and discreditable. To govern one's self is indeed 
 among the first of duties. He is an unworthy head 
 of a household who cannot control his own tem- 
 per, who is constantly breaking out with angry 
 remarks, and is thus not only annoying and rendering 
 unhappy those about him, but affording an example 
 
334 THE PERILS OF EXCITEMENT, 
 
 suited to prove productive of the worst consequences. 
 The excitable, moreover, are constantly getting into 
 difficulties. They say and do things in their moments 
 of passion, which they would give worlds, did they 
 possess them, could they unsay and blot forever from 
 the memory. They wound feelings, inflict pangs, 
 sever friendship, weaken love, and destroy confidence. 
 The}' see the error when the storm has gone by ; but 
 it is much easier to wound than to heal, to sever than 
 to cement a tie. We would not have an individual so 
 calm, indifferent, and dead to the things around him, 
 to the joys and sorrows of life, the sentiments and 
 susceptibilities of existence, as to be little more than 
 an animated statue. Far from it. Nothing is more 
 delightful than the interchange of courtesy and good- 
 will, the sympathy of hearts, the appreciation and 
 response of friendship and affection. To be animated, 
 too, to be spirited and gay to a certain extent, is to be 
 charming. But we need not mingle anger and 
 violence with vivacity, and we would not be so 
 constituted as to be constantly liable to some burst of 
 passion — a burst, too, suited to make us mad for the 
 time. 
 
 An excitable man is, to our taste, not only danger- 
 ous to society, but a most unpleasant companion. 
 While conversing with him we have to be particularly 
 cautious and guarded, lest we touch upon some of his 
 prejudices, and thus unloose the whirlwind within 
 him. We must agree with him in all things, or dis- 
 agreeing, run the risk of a quarrel. He may not be 
 able to help it — it may be his infirmity, the fault of 
 his education, his early training. But, inasmuch as the 
 effects of the infirmity are of the most deplorable kind, 
 
THE SENSE OF OBLIGATION". 335 
 
 and as the disposition and the character are in most 
 cases as capable of being moulded, formed and consti- 
 tuted, as is the mind of being educated and enlarged — 
 parents should not forget their responsibilities in the 
 important matter alluded to. They should inculcate 
 lessons and examples of self-control. If they have 
 children who are naturally prone to excitement, to 
 momentary bursts of passion, they should be particu- 
 larly cautious in interposing all the restraints of train- 
 ing and habit — all the moral checks at their command. 
 Excitement, we repeat, is frequently not only the cause 
 of trouble — the source of unhappiness, but the parent 
 of crime. And this language will apply as well to 
 nations as to individuals. The madness of an hour — 
 alas! how many victims have suffered during such 
 periods of delirium. The stake — the scaffold — the 
 guillotine — how fearful are their histories — how blood- 
 stained their records ! 
 
 Sense of #Wigation~- $npfitak 
 
 " I had a seeming friend ; — I gave him gifts, and he was gone. 
 I had an open enemy ; — I gave him gifts, and won him. 
 Common friendship standeth on equalities, and cannot bear a debt, 
 But the very heart of hate melteth at a good man's love. 
 Go to, then, thou that sayest, — I will give aud rivet the links, 
 For pride shall kick at obligation, and push the giver from him. 
 The covetous spirit may rejoice, reveling in thy largess, 
 But chilling selfishness will mutter, — I must give again.' 
 
 A FRIEND called upon us some days since, who 
 was not a little annoyed at a course of conduct in 
 an individual, which seemed to him a puzzle, and a 
 
336 THE SEXSS OF OBLIGATION. 
 
 reflection -upon all the "higher attributes of human 
 nature. It appears that the individual was merely an 
 acquaintance, who had on a certain occasion been in a 
 situation of much distress, and, after having applied 
 in vain to others who knew him better, sought relief 
 from our friend. Generous, confiding, and keenly 
 alive to the difficulties of the unfortunate, he admitted 
 that his pecuniary circumstances were not very flatter- 
 ing, but at the same time extended the asked-for re- 
 lief in the shape of a loan. The sum was not large, 
 and it was to be returned in the course of a few weeks, 
 inasmuch as our friend could not conveniently spare 
 it but for the time specified. The matter passed on, 
 the time designated elapsed, the money was not re- 
 turned, and no explanation was made. But all this 
 was nothing in the estimation of the individual who 
 had conferred the favor, and he was disposed to over- 
 look the neglect, and to fancy in his own mind a dozen 
 reasons therefor. But he was surprised and pained 
 to learn that the borrower, not satisfied with falsifying 
 his word upon the subject, and neglecting to make 
 any apology or explanation, was busily engaged, at 
 every opportunity, in slandering and vilifying the 
 person who had assisted him ! For a long time our 
 friend was much annoyed at the circumstance. He 
 could not account for it — he could not fathom the 
 motive of the vilifier. He cared nothing for the 
 money, and would have received freely and cheerfully 
 any apology for the delay in the repayment. But to 
 be abused under the circumstances — to imagine that 
 he had made a man an enemy by an act of kindness 
 and generosity — the thought was indeed painful, and 
 the belief in the existence of such ingratitude and de- 
 
THE SENSE OF OBLIGATION. 337 
 
 pravity almost impossible. Nevertheless, on inquir- 
 ing particularly into all the circumstances, we arrived 
 at the conclusion that the slanderer had become so 
 from a sense of obligation, and that most wretched 
 species of jealousy and envy which induces one human 
 being to hate another because of his superiority of 
 mind, heart, or circumstances — or because he feels that 
 he cannot repay in a manly, generous, and frank- 
 hearted manner, favors that have been extended to 
 him in a like spirit. With many, this dark and des • 
 picable feature may be said to exist. They hate to 
 acknowledge their indebtedness to others. Nay, more, 
 they decry and defame, their benefactors. They lack 
 the magnanimity of truth — they are mean and 
 paltry of spirit, are narrow, malignant, and jealous, 
 and hence, as in the case of the individual referred to 
 above, they not only shrink from all proper acknowl- 
 edgment of favors received, but are guilty of the 
 darker vice of injustice and outrage against those to 
 whom they are indebted. Do you know of no such 
 case, gentle reader ? Can you not, in your own brief 
 history, point out an individual whose friendship you 
 have forfeited, by placing him under a* sense of obli- 
 gation ? Can you not remember the conduct of some 
 one, who at a certain time sought your advice, assist- 
 ance, and support, in some critical situation of life, and 
 after you had extended them freely, cheerfully, and 
 with effect, became less and less intimate, until at last 
 the ties of friendship were severed, and the feeling 
 lived but in memory ? 
 
 Alas! for human nature. Too many forget one 
 year the obligations of that which preceded it. It is 
 the weakness and the vice of the multitude to shrink 
 
338 THE SENSE OF OBLIGATION. 
 
 from all generous manifestations for favors received, 
 to withhold all heart warm eulogies of the noble con- 
 duct of others, to underrate and depreciate the good, 
 to speak charily of manly and disinterested acts on 
 the part of friends, neighbors, and fellow-citizens. 
 Self — self — is the prompting motive of too many. 
 The mean and narrow thought forces itself upon the 
 mind, that, by the exaltation of others, we depreciate 
 ourselves. The influences of vanity and pride are 
 brought to bear ; and thus, if we cannot attain to some 
 eminence for virtue and for worth, we are too dis- 
 posed to bring others down to our own unenvied 
 level. But, thank heaven! there are exceptions to 
 this rule. There are redeeming traits in human 
 nature. There are generous, noble, confiding spirits 
 among mankind. There are those who respond to, 
 and are grateful for favors received — who repay them 
 tenfold, and never forget' the circumstances under 
 which they were conferred. An act of common cour- 
 tesy is, by such, treasured up as one of the bright 
 things of life. They are not only happy in doing 
 good unto others, but they rejoice when opportunities 
 occur, when the higher, the purer, the more disinte- 
 rested qualities of our nature may be manifested by 
 others toward themselves. Their delight is in giving 
 more than they receive — in responding more gener- 
 ously than even the generous — and thus they are 
 doubly happy. Would that there were more of these 
 truly frank, free-hearted, and noble-minded spirits! 
 "Would that there were fewer of those who writhe 
 under a sense of obligation, without having the manli- 
 ness to admit their position, the magnanimity to ap- 
 preciate a favor, or the honesty and justice to plac© 
 themselves in an independent attitude ! 
 
(Sklg Pmbtgts.— %\t Hanir kt not % 
 Peart 
 
 " The nations that marry the youngest are the shortest lived." 
 
 WE notice with pleasure a disposition on the part 
 of many journalists, philanthropists, and phi- 
 losophers of this country, to deprecate the system of 
 premature or early marriages — a system which has to 
 some extent become national, and which, we feel satis- 
 fied, leads to many deplorable results. The subject is 
 one of great delicacy ; and yet it is so important that 
 we think it should be discussed with the view of lead- 
 ing to the formation of a wholesome public opinion, — 
 to examples, on the part of parents, of influence and 
 character, and thus to a salutary reform. A statistical 
 #nd physiological investigation would, we feel satis- 
 fied, produce startling results, and induce all thought- 
 ful and well-regulated minds to pause with reference 
 to matrimonial alliances, and seek for their children 
 and those to whom they are about to unite their des- 
 tinies for life, not only an adaptation in disposition, 
 thought, and character, but of qualifications with regard 
 to age, suited to prevent serious physical evils, bodily 
 infirmities, premature decay and all the sad conse- 
 quences. We have indeed a very erroneous system 
 upon this subject, in our country. It is no uncommon 
 occurrence to hear of young ladies becoming brides at 
 an age as early as fifteen ! In many cases, too, parents 
 21 (339) 
 
340 EAELY MAREIAGES. 
 
 look on with delight, as if by wedding thus early, their 
 daughters had, in an especial manner, secured felicity 
 for life. And yet the thought of such a marriage to 
 those who are really well informed, and regard in a 
 proper spirit all the consequences, is quite appalling. 
 In the first place, at an age so early, a female is not 
 fitted by education, either to become a wife or a mother. 
 Her character cannot be formed, her taste must be im- 
 mature, and her understanding any thing but devel- 
 oped, or her judgment ripe. She may discover in a 
 few years thereafter, that the phantom feeling of the 
 hour which induced her to wed, was indeed unreal, 
 unsubstantial — that what she had mistaken for deep 
 affection, was merely the whim of the moment, and 
 the being to whom she had pledged her destiny, for 
 better or worse, was not in reality fitted for her, nor 
 she for him. But the error, when discovered, under 
 such circumstances, cannot be repaired. Any new 
 change, whether with the consent of both parties, or 
 brought about by adverse tastes, quarrels and their 
 bad consequences, excites the suspicion and the scan- 
 dal of the world ; and the separated or divorced are 
 looked upon in any but a generous or forgiving spirit. 
 Such being the facts, the resolution is often taken to 
 live in misery rather than become an object of the 
 world's remark and rebuke. Thus a home that would 
 have been happy, had the inmates been duly, equally 
 mated, is rendered a scene of constant vexation, fret- 
 fulness and torment. The husband, too, is apt to dis- 
 cover traits in the character of his wife, which before 
 he never imagined to exist, — to find a wonderful dif- 
 ference between the girl and the woman, — to learn 
 that he had obtained the hand but not the heart. But 
 
EARLY MARRIAGES. 341 
 
 if patience be practiced — if, shrinking from her own 
 thoughts, feelings and convictions, the young wife be 
 willing to suffer voluntary martyrdom, her cheek will 
 soon lose its bloom, her step its animated movement, 
 and she will be hurried to a premature grave. Thus, 
 then, these early marriages, in some cases, become the 
 tomb of happiness, while in others, they destroy health, 
 and in fact, shorten life. 
 
 Will not parents think of these things, when so eager 
 to usher the young, the tender, and the inexperienced, 
 into the giddy world of what is called society ? Will 
 they not keep their children- back for a few years, af- 
 ford an opportunity for, their mental and physical de- 
 velopment, and thus have an enlightened eye to their 
 permanent happiness in the matrimonial state? Is 
 there no mother among the readers of this article, who is 
 committing the very error to which we have referred 
 — who is eager to see her daughter become a wife, 
 although that daughter may still be in her teens ? If 
 there be any such, we beg her to pause and reflect. 
 Better, far better, that her child should never quit the 
 happy roof of her parents, than bestow the priceless 
 jewel of her affections upon some unworthy object, or 
 commit the frightful error of giving the hand without 
 the heart. If, moreover, there exist any engagement, 
 if any courtship be in progress, let those immediately 
 interested inquire if esteem, respect, intelligence, in- 
 tegrity, and perhaps more than all, manly industry, 
 be characteristics of the suitor ; and whether due cal- 
 culations have been made, not only as to present 
 objects and considerations, but as to the future and 
 regular mode of providing for the wants and comforts 
 
 of the fair being over whom he asks to exercise so im- 
 21 
 
342 EARLY MARRIAGES. 
 
 portant a control. No man can have common sense, 
 proper prudence and deep affection, who is willing to 
 take a gentle one from the protection of her parents, 
 and the happy home of which she has so long formed 
 an element of pleasure, without being able to provide 
 her at least with all the comforts of a reputable mode 
 of living. It should be remembered, moreover, that 
 woman, especially when quite young, cannot duly re- 
 flect and act upon these considerations. Her parents 
 must exercise this duty for her, and indeed, although 
 there are many cases in which the best, the wisest, and 
 most prudent of fathers and mothers exert themselves 
 to the utmost, and in vain, for the happiness of their 
 children, they may, we think, in the great multitude 
 of instances, by a course of prudence, affection, and 
 example, exercise a guarding and controlling influence 
 in the serious question of matrimony. One rule of 
 great importance should be observed as far as possible. 
 Mothers should never permit their daughters to asso- 
 ciate intimately with gentlemen, to whom they would 
 earnestly and reasonably object as suitors and sons-in- 
 law. 
 

 Cjje f ifrhtg anb % Utah— IRfe aitfr its 
 §«bWes. 
 
 " They are the flatterers of the festal hour, 
 The heartless parasites of present cheer." 
 
 " A death-bed's a detector of the heart ; 
 Here tried Dissimulation drops her mask." 
 
 THE majority of mankind are so busy with their 
 worldly affairs, are so eagerly engaged in the pur- 
 suit of some bubble, are so wedded to Mammon, to 
 ambition, to pleasure, or to crime, that they can rarely 
 spare an hour with the holy and admonitory purpose 
 of meditation and reflection. 
 
 The most frightful calamity, if it occur to a neigh- 
 bor or a mere acquaintance, arrests attention but a 
 moment. An earthquake, if it happen a thousand 
 miles away and swallow up a thousand victims, ex- 
 cites but a passing remark. The details of a battle 
 and all its sanguinary horrors, are perused with com- 
 parative indifference, and scarcely a sigh is given to 
 the dead or mangled, the widows and the orphans. 
 Not that " the sons and daughters of Adam" are 
 wholly insensible — not that the fountains of emotion 
 are exhausted and dry within them — not that their 
 sympathies are frozen or their sensibilities chilled — 
 but simply that the bubbles of life and the objects of 
 their immediate pursuit engross all their attention, 
 and they have therefore little time for the sorrows, 
 the vicissitudes and misfortunes of others. Nay, 
 
 (343) 
 
344 THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 
 
 sickness and death may hover hard by, and the dark 
 hearse and the sad-eyed mourner may obtrude upon 
 their " unwilling notice," and remind them painfully, 
 for a moment, that all flesh is mortal. Still the 
 thought will be evanescent and avoided as speedily as 
 possible ; the corpse of the departed one will soon be 
 forgotten ; and in a few days or a few weeks, the 
 memory, the name and the fame of the dead will only 
 be recalled at times and seasons, and then, as is too 
 often the case, without a pang of sorrow, or a thought 
 of the small and narrow house that must, sooner or 
 later, become the final tenement of all — the high and 
 the low, the proud and the humble. This is not only 
 the case with private individuals, but with public 
 men. The lauded and the worshipped of to-day, if 
 living and in power — if the dispensers of official 
 patronage, or the possessors of immense wealth — alas ! 
 how soon are they neglected and avoided in the hour 
 of misfortune, or how speedily are they forgotten after 
 they have passed through the valley of the shadow 
 of death ! The parasites who fawned and nattered, 
 seek out new objects of idolatry, and pour their ful- 
 some adulation into other ears. They worship the 
 rising sun. They live for the present. They are 
 mere cieatures of the hour, who bask in the sunshine 
 of prosperity, and shrink away the moment there is 
 misfortune or shade. Like birds of a tropical clime, 
 they shun a wintry atmosphere ; and when the flowers 
 of one land wither' and fade away, they speedily take 
 their flight to some more sunny region. History is 
 full of sad illustrations of the infidelity of man. Even 
 in the more refined nations of England and France, 
 many and striking cases are recorded — some so glaring 
 
THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 345 
 
 that even the mortal remains of monarchs were quitted 
 by dependents and courtiers the moment the vital 
 spark had departed. They abandoned the dead for 
 the purpose of worshiping the rising sun — the new 
 source of patronage and power. Nay, the remains of 
 royalty were in some cases rifled by servants, and 
 even the ordinary preparations for interment neg- 
 lected for days. To homage and servility in life suc- 
 ceeded instant disregard and contempt in death. 
 
 But even in our own day and time, and among 
 friends and relatives, how soon are the loved and 
 cherished, or at least beings who should be loved and 
 cherished, neglected and forgotten! How the new 
 bubbles of life win and fascinate, even at the expense 
 of all the better and purer feelings of our nature! 
 How self over-masters the nobler impulses, and the 
 death-scene is lost sight of in anxiety as to the pro- 
 visions of the will 1 The past and all its memories 
 vanish like a misty scroll; and the future and its 
 dreams of pomp, and power, and pleasure, absorb and 
 occupy the whole man. This, too, where the heart is 
 not naturally cold, where the gentler virtues still live, 
 and where kindness, benevolence, and generosity yet 
 exist. Still, the all-potent fascinations of the world, 
 the vanities of life and society, the illusions of pride 
 and of wealth, are overwhelming with the many ; and 
 even at the death-bed, by the open coffin, or the fresh 
 grave, these worldly considerations, these heartless 
 and selfish dreams of the time to come, will obtrude, 
 tempt, and mislead. It. is thus not only with the hale 
 and strong, but even with the feeble and frail, whose 
 tenure upon the things of this world cannot be re- 
 garded as durable. " All men think all men mortal 
 
346 THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 
 
 but themselves." All seem disposed to postpone the 
 idea of death, until the signs and indications are too 
 significant to be mistaken. All cherish a lurking 
 hope, that for them life has some peculiar blessing in 
 store, and that their days will be long in the land of 
 their birth or that of their adoption. The world and 
 its vanities engross them wholly. Let " friend after 
 friend depart" — let father or mother, sister or brother, 
 be snatched away — and still, if in the enjoyment of 
 health, the survivors rarely think of their own season 
 of departure. The buried may be remembered occa- 
 sionally, but how rarely ! How seldom do the living 
 seize a quiet hour, to call up the images of the past 
 and commune calmly with the dead ! Nay, how few 
 think of the reunion, which, our faith teaches us to 
 believe, will sooner or later take place in the land 
 beyond the grave! The mortal is forgetful of the 
 immortal. The man of time is unmindful of the being 
 of eternity. The present and its bubbles absorb and 
 occupy ; the future and its " gloom or glory" claim 
 but little attention. This, we say, is the general rule, 
 the common error. Happily there are exceptions. 
 There are many who live not alone for the present, 
 but for the future ; who regard this world as merely 
 preliminary to another and higher condition, and who 
 make their acts harmonize with their belief. They 
 recognize and they discharge their true duties; and 
 while they mingle hopefully, cheerfully, and gener 
 ously among their fellow-creatures, their thoughts oc- 
 casionally wander to the mansions of the dead, and 
 their aspirations ascend to those holy and heavenly 
 scenes, where the just are made perfect, and the pure 
 in heart reunite with the loved, the cherished, and 
 

 COUKTESY. 347 
 
 the un forgotten, who preceded them in the mysterious 
 pilgrimage beyond the grave. 
 
 ' In that high world, which lies beyond 
 
 Our own, surviving love endears ; 
 If there the cherish'd heart be fond, 
 
 The eye the same, except in tears- 
 How welcome those untrodden spheres ! 
 
 How sweet this very hour to die ! 
 To soar from earth, and find all fears 
 
 Lost in thy light — Eterxitt I" 
 
 € 0ratesg.-~% Paimer aito % grad 
 
 " Who will not give 
 Some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, 
 For other's good, is a poor, frozen churl.— Joanna Baillia. 
 
 ' It is in vain that we would coldly gaze 
 On such as smile on us ; the heart must 
 Leap kindly back to kindness, though disgust 
 Hath wean'd us from all worldlings."— Byron's Ohilde Harold. 
 
 IF young people could realize, to the proper extent, 
 the advantages of courtesy of manner, tone and 
 conversation, they would cultivate the quality as one 
 of the gentler virtues — one, too, calculated not only to 
 sweeten and brighten the social circle, but to assist 
 and promote prosperity in the commercial and business 
 world. Many a heart has been won by an act of 
 civility, by a kind word, a generous deed, an expression 
 at once affable and polished. It is so easy, too, to be 
 courteous. Let the system be adopted in early life, 
 and it will soon become habitual, and adorn and 
 beautify the character like a grace. The courteous 
 
348 COURTESY. 
 
 man can be detected at a glance. His voice, his look, 
 his manner — all partake of the gentle and the refined, 
 while his smile is brightened with the sunshine of the 
 heart. There are, moreover, a thousand little civilities 
 in which the courteous disposition is made distinct and 
 palpable. Scarcely a day goes by that we are not in- 
 debted to friends and neighbors for some act of kindness 
 — some unsolicited favor, trifling in itself, perhaps, but 
 which nevertheless indicates the temper and the heart, 
 and should be responded to in a like spirit. It is related 
 of General "Washington, that courtesy was one of the 
 most beautiful attributes of his character. The rich 
 and the poor, the humble and the exalted, were recog- 
 nized by him in the spirit of kindness and good- will, 
 and he would return in the promptest manner the bow 
 of the humblest individual with whom he came in 
 contact. And this indeed is the characteristic of the 
 true gentleman, of all who recognize no distinctions 
 save those produced by virtue in contrast with vice, by 
 kindness in opposition to harshness. It is, however, 
 amusing sometimes, to observe the deference which is 
 paid by narrow minds to the rich, simply because they 
 are rich. They will bow, cringe and flatter before a 
 millionaire, as if he were a superior being, while a 
 poor man, however meritorious, will be regarded by 
 them — not only with indiference and contempt, but 
 sometimes with insolence. They do not understand 
 the true nature of courtesy. They cannot appreciate the 
 milder and gentler virtues. It often happens too, that 
 exactly in proportion as a man accumulates wealth, he 
 becomes imperious, tyrannical, rude and discourteous. 
 He fancies that money gives him a privilege above or- 
 dinary life, and he says in manner, if not in substance 
 
COUKTESY. 349 
 
 11 1 am one of the favored sons of Fortune, and have 
 therefore a right to be rude and overbearing." 
 
 Let us not be misunderstood. "We would not have 
 an individual, no matter what his position in the com- 
 munity, play the parasite, and by affectation or excess 
 of politeness, degrade himself, and become an object 
 of ridicule. There are" limits even to courtesy. Man- 
 ner and compliment may be overdone. A constant 
 reference to the same topics, and a frequent acknowl- 
 edgement of slight favors, is ever in bad taste, while 
 fulsome flattery is not only hypocritical, but offensive 
 and insulting to the cultivated and correct. There is a 
 medium in all things. Courtesy, to be effective, should 
 be easy, graceful and natural. It should, in some sense, 
 be involuntary, spring from the heart, the feelings, and 
 the sensibilities. If the world at large were only cour- 
 teous, life would receive a new charm. Many a circle, 
 now discordant, would be made harmonious and happy, 
 and much irritation, ill-will, and bitterness of feeling 
 would be avoided. We some days since heard a young 
 lady complain because of a supposed slight on the part 
 of an acquaintance. The matter was inquired into, and 
 it was ascertained that the complainant was really the 
 offending party, that she had neglected various acts 
 of courtesy that were due, had treated her friend with 
 indifference, neglect, and marked coldness, until the 
 latter, pained and mortified, had supposed her society 
 was not agreeable or desirable, and had acted accord- 
 ingly. Occurrences of this kind are quite common. 
 The error is, that too many of us are disposed to exact 
 more than we are willing to accord. We see discour- 
 tesy in others, and are not able to recognize it in our- 
 selves We could point out more than one individual 
 
350 COURTESY. 
 
 in this city, who is in the habit of turning aside when 
 he meets a friend or acquaintance, simply to avoid the 
 trouble of an interchange of compliments, while others 
 again will pass on, apparently abstracted in thought, 
 when the real object is to escape notice. Sad errors 
 these, and they lead in many cases to serious conse- 
 quences. Nothing annoys a man so much as suspicion 
 or belief that an acquaintance desires to shun or avoid 
 him. He may care little about the intimacy in a 
 general sense, and may be quite willing to terminate 
 it at once. But self-pride will not permit, with im- 
 punity, a contemptuous termination ; and the imagina- 
 tion, ever vivid on such occasions, is apt to conjure up 
 a thousand causes for the slight, whether willful or ac- 
 cidental, and to stir up feeliogs of indignation, not to 
 say revenge. "It is often," says a forcible writer, 
 " not the great, but the little acts of incivility, that are 
 treasured up and remembered." And this is strictly 
 true. " Trifles, light as air," sometimes color the whole 
 future of a man's life. Harsh things said even in jest, 
 often rankle and fester for years, while kind words and 
 courteous acts are ever recalled and dwelt upon with 
 pleasure. 
 
 " Sweet as refreshing dews, or Summer showers, 
 To the long parching thirst of drooping flowers ; 
 Grateful as fanning gales to fainting swains ; 
 And soft as trickling balm to bleeding pains, 
 Are courteous words." 
 
Ctmpw.-Cjw Depute of §owsfe life. 
 
 " Of all bad things by which mankind are curs'd, 
 Their own bad tempers surely are the worst." — Cumberland's Menander. 
 
 "If the peculiarities of our feelings and faculties be the effect of variety of ex 
 citement through a diversity of organization, it should tend to produce in us 
 mutual forbearance and toleration. We should perceive how nearly impossible 
 it is that persons should feel and think exactly alike upon any subject." 
 
 ACOKEESPONDBNT expresses the opinion that 
 " parents and teachers, even when they bestow 
 adequate attention upon the minds and the morals of 
 the little beings confided to their care, are apt to be 
 very indifferent as to the proper training of the tem- 
 per and disposition." And he is right. It often hap- 
 pens that parents, in mistaken affection or erring 
 judgment, actually foster and encourage a vicious 
 violent, and vindictive temper, and thus sow the seeds 
 of misery, not only for their offspring, but for all with 
 whom they may become associated. What, indeed, 
 can be more unpleasant, more painful, than sharpness 
 and violence, bitterness of manner and of language ? 
 What so disfigures beauty and neutralizes the purer 
 and better elements of our nature ? And yet we be- 
 lieve that the temper may be educated, restrained, and 
 controlled, quite as readily as the mind may be devel- 
 oped and improved. If the disposition be naturally 
 violent and perverse, so much the more necessity for 
 checks and restraints in childhood. In after-life, the 
 evil is incurable. The infirmity becomes a fixed 
 habit, and it is the constant source of irritation, mis 
 
 (351) 
 
352 TEMPER. 
 
 understanding, and feud. The unhappy of temper are 
 to be pitied, while they are also apt to be avoided. 
 'It is dangerous to converse with them, even upon 
 ordinary subjects. Differ with them, and not satisfied 
 with, giving their own views, they will impugn the 
 motives of those who hold opposite sentiments, resort 
 to unbecoming language, and not unfrequently utter 
 insinuations and employ epithets totally unsuited to 
 the lips of the just, the generous, and the gentlemanly. 
 For the moment they are beside themselves. They 
 are the monomaniacs of the hour. Passion takes the 
 place of reason, prejudice that of truth, and excitement 
 that of philosophy. Their violence of temper obtains 
 the entire mastery ; they become excited, lost to all 
 sense of propriety, and thus are objects of commisera- 
 tion rather than of anger. This, when their antago- 
 nist is calm, truthful, and reasonable ; but when, like 
 themselves, he is possessed of an evil temper, the con- 
 sequences are likely to be still more painful. The 
 insipid, the lifeless, and the yielding, should by no 
 means be regarded as the models of mankind. A 
 proper degree of spirit and independence is absolutely 
 essential to self-respect. But we may readily express 
 our views, however eccentric or unreasonable, without 
 manifesting violence, either of manner or of language, 
 and assuredly without impugning the motives or 
 assailing the integrity of those with whom we happen 
 to differ. We know of nothing more commendable 
 or desirable than calmness, evenness, frankness, and 
 courtesy. These qualities, constantly exercised, are 
 admirably calculated to soften the asperities of life, 
 and to impart a charm to the occurrences of every-day 
 intercourse. 
 
TEMPEE. 353 
 
 The "gentler sex," too, should be especially careful 
 in the cultivation of temper. "Woman yields up one 
 of the loveliest attributes of her nature, when she for- 
 gets the quiet, winning way that so endears, and en- 
 deavors to maintain her influence and sway through 
 the agency of harshness and violence. An evil tem- 
 per, a propensity to quarrel, a disposition to be dis- 
 satisfied, a spirit of contradiction, are bad enough in 
 man, but in woman they are terrible. They destroy 
 many of the softer and sweeter illusions which we de- 
 light to associate with the female character ; they dis- 
 sipate one of the most potent of the magic spells which 
 naturally belong to her gentle sphere ; they turn into 
 bitterness and gall, the currents of feeling and of sen- 
 timent, that before were all harmony, devotion, and 
 affection. How many a household is made a scene 
 of perpetual strife, by the curse of an evil temper, 
 possessed and exercised by one of the leading spirits 
 of the family I All such seem determined to be per- 
 verse, and never contented, when others are calm, 
 tranquil, and happy. Thus their Yery presence has 
 the effect of a shadow. It chills and darkens all 
 within its influence. Silence and apprehension take 
 the places of cheerfulness and vivacity. Silence, be- 
 cause it is dangerous to speak ; and apprehension, be- 
 cause a storm may always be expected, when the evil 
 temper is in the ascendant. The greater the effort at 
 conciliation the worse the success. Affection is re- 
 pelled as impertinence, and frankness as impudence 
 Even a look or a smile is denounced and rebuked ; and 
 thus even the children unconsciously exult, or at least 
 feel relieved of their restraint, when the excitable, the 
 petulant, and the perverse, are among the absentees. 
 
354 TEMPER. 
 
 The example of such a temper is most pernicious. It 
 impairs the natural ingenuousness of the young, ren- 
 ders them suspicious, distrustful, and hypocritical, and 
 gives them false views of life. They cannot under- 
 stand the many contradictions and inconsistencies 
 which are constantly presented to them. They are 
 thus taught to doubt and distrust, especially, as is 
 often the case, when the gentler partner, for the sake 
 of harmony, is apt to resort to concealment. The 
 truth is withheld, fearful that its utterance will create 
 difficulty, provoke a storm, and thus falsehood is indi- 
 rectly inculcated. 
 
 The harsh of temper and the hard of manner are 
 rarely companionable. They make- poor friends, un- 
 pleasant associates, and unenviable husbands or wives. 
 The destiny that is united with theirs is subjected to 
 constant anxiety, annoyance, and pain. One of two 
 choices is essential — either passive obedience, and thus 
 a forfeiture of every thing like independence and 
 self-respect; or frank opposition, and thus an open 
 and perpetual war. We believe that many men have 
 been driven to ruin by the irascible spirit of their 
 wives ; while many wives, on the other hand, have 
 been subjected to lives of misery, of slavery, by the 
 iron despotism of their evil-tempered husbands. At 
 this moment, how many families — rich, poor, and in 
 the middle walks of life, are dragging out a wretched 
 existence through the curse of temper, because their 
 domestic circle is influenced and agitated by some 
 virago or some tyrant ? Alas ! for the violent, the 
 passionate, and the perverse, who cannot or will not 
 control themselves, and who are, therefore, perpetually 
 engaged in the selfish, satanic, and unholy work of 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF KINDNESS. 355 
 
 creating strife, contention, and misery. Many a gentle 
 heart has been broken by the tyrant temper of some 
 such domestic despot. Many an honest and toil-worn 
 man has been driven from his home to the resort of 
 the dissolute and intemperate, by the petulant and 
 complaining volubility of his miscalled "better half!" 
 
 % i P^ffpfc? «f f rates, 
 
 " Which seeks again those chords to bind 
 Which human woe hath rent apart ; 
 To heal again the wounded mind, 
 And bind again the broken heart." 
 
 " The greatest attribute of heaven is mercy, 
 And 'tis the crown of justice, and the glory, 
 Where it may kill with right, to save with pity." 
 
 WE recently conversed with an esteemed friend, a 
 gentleman of this city, who for the last twenty 
 years of his life has been connected with several of our 
 leading charitable institutions, and has also for a long 
 period been an inspector of one of our principal peni- 
 tentiaries. In alluding to the causes of crime in the 
 great majority of cases, he expressed his conviction 
 that they might be traced to a weakness or malady of 
 the mind, amounting to a mental imperfection, though 
 not to positive insanity — to misfortune, poverty, ig- 
 norance, — or to intemperance, evil associations and 
 parental neglect. The cases of cool, calm, thoughtful 
 and determined crime, of a disposition to go wrong 
 without regard to the laws of God cr man, are few 
 5s,2 
 
356 THE PHILOSOPHY OF KINDNESS. 
 
 and far between. Occasionally such instances will be 
 found, but they are extremely rare. Almost all, e^ven 
 among the convicted, possess some meritorious traits 
 of character. Many are generous, warm-hearted, and 
 would rather suffer for years than betray a benefactor. 
 Harshness when met by harshness, produces sullen- 
 ness, obstinacy and hate ; while kindness is the key 
 which in a great majority of cases, unlocks the hearts 
 even of the most hardened. The poor wretch who 
 after arrest, trial and conviction, is consigned to the 
 cells of the Penitentiary, is apt to suppose himself 
 loathed, contemned and hated by all mankind. He 
 views himself as an outcast and an alien to society, and 
 looks upon the officers of justice as a species of beings 
 who cannot feel for his condition, who are utterly dead 
 to his misfortunes, and who would not believe him, 
 no matter how truthful the narrative he might detail. 
 When, therefore, this error is dispelled — when he dis- 
 covers that even within the gloomy walls of a prison 
 are to be found kind and forgiving hearts — officers and 
 inspectors who are disposed to forget the past, and to 
 manifest generosity, humanity, and mercy, the better 
 feelings find " vent and way," the stubborn nature is 
 subdued, the confidence of the convict is won, and 
 while he deplores and regrets the errors and vices that 
 have hurried him into a disgraceful position, hope re- 
 vives, forgiveness of God and man is sought, and a 
 resolution is taken to live more correctly for the future. 
 This we say, is often the effect of kindness. And this 
 is the testimony of the gentleman whose opportunities 
 of observation have been so ample. 
 
 But what is the prospect for the felon, who having 
 served out his first term, is sent forth into the world to 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF KINDNESS. 357 
 
 commence anew ? Let us suppose that his fall in the 
 the first case was through the force of circumstances, 
 by adversity, by intemperance, by pressing and fear- 
 ful temptation, rather than by any settled and deter- 
 mined principle of crime. Suppose, also, that on 
 leaving the walls of the prison, his penitence is sincere, 
 his heart is changed, and his desire and determination 
 are, to walk correctly and to act uprightly. Will he 
 be cheered on and sustained by his fellow-man ? Will 
 he be encouraged and assisted in the work of reform ? 
 or, will the world point to him as a convict, whisper 
 words of suspicion and distrust— avoid, shun and 
 anathematize him? Alas! the latter policy is too 
 often pursued. The victims of misfortune or of guilt 
 are too generally the objects of reproach and of scorn, 
 rather than of sympathy and generous pity. The Chris- 
 tian doctrine in this respect is forgotten and neglected. 
 The spirit of forgiveness is outraged. Man turns away 
 from his fellow-man, and mocks at his appeal for as- 
 sistance. " The fallen" are hunted and banned — and 
 their penitence, however sincere, is distrusted and 
 ridiculed. Thus their hearts become soured, their 
 feelings embittered, their necessities urging and press- 
 ing, and they again fall into the ways of temptation 
 and the meshes of crime. Alas! miserable beings, 
 when detected and convicted of a second offence. They 
 are then regarded as among the doomed and the hard- 
 ened, and they are branded as infamous forever. And 
 yet even these second offenders might, in many cases, 
 be saved. 
 
 We know that it is difficult, in our present state of 
 society, and with the eye of suspicion and the tongue 
 
 of scandal so watchful and \igilant, to assist a fallen 
 22 
 
853 THE PHILOSOPHY OF KINDNESS. 
 
 sister or an erring brother, without a liability to cen- 
 sorious remarks. The motive is seldom considered as 
 pure or disinterested. And yet it is the duty of som,e 
 one to step forward on these occasions — the solemn and 
 sacred duty — What nobler incentive than the hope of 
 saving a soul ? What higher inducement than the 
 glorious reward of winning an erring child of humanity 
 from the wrong to the right path ? How happy must 
 be the consolation of the philanthropist, who turning 
 the eye of memory back upon the past, sees a rescued 
 and now respectable member of society, who would 
 have been lost but for his timely assistance and friendly 
 aid ! The occasions, too, are so numerous. 
 
 The poor and the frail are tempted on every side. 
 Not a week, not a day goes by, that hundreds of 
 human beings do not hesitate at the two paths, tempted 
 by poverty and necessity to choose the wrong, and yet 
 urged by the still, small voice within, to adhere to the 
 right. It is at such moments that kindness, sympa- 
 thy and assistance are all powerful. 
 
 Only a few days since, an aged citizen of Philadel- 
 phia was waited upon by a stranger, who asked to 
 have a few moments' conversation with him in private. 
 The opportunity was afforded with great cheerfulness. 
 The Western merchant — for such, in fact, he was — was 
 ushered into the parlor of the Philadelphian, when 
 something like the following conversation took place. 
 
 " You seem to have forgotten me, Mr. H. ?" 
 
 11 I have an indistinct recollection of having seen 
 you before, and the tone of your voice is not unfamil- 
 iar ; and yet beyond this my memory fails." 
 
 u My name is Charles B , and twenty years 
 
 ago I was an inmate of a Philadelphia prison, of which 
 
THE PHILOSOPHY OF KINDNESS. 359 
 
 you were a frequent — a benevolent — a kind-hearted 
 visiter." 
 
 " I remember — I remember, said the other — bright- 
 ening, smiling, and grasping the hand of the stranger 
 — you look so well, have improved so greatly, that I 
 hope, nay, I feel satisfied that all has gone right with 
 you." 
 
 A tear trembled in the eye of the other at so cordial 
 and kindly a recognition ; his voice failed for a mo- 
 ment — but then rallying again, he proceeded to tell his 
 story. At the age of fifteen he was a neglected orphan, 
 and with fine natural talents, a cheerful disposition, 
 and a good heart, he was thrown into the society 
 of the vile and the dissolute, in one of the most 
 wretched sections of Philadelphia. There, in connection 
 with several other lads, equally deserted or misled, he 
 committed, was arrested for, tried and convicted of 
 petty theft. "While in prison he was visited again and 
 again by the Philadelphia philanthropist, who suc- 
 ceeded not only in eradicating the vicious views he had 
 imbibed, but in showing him the folly of vice, and the 
 certainty of its punishment — and inspiring him with a 
 determination to act correctly the moment he should 
 be released. The visiter was satisfied of his sincerity, 
 and gradually took a deep interest in his case. At the 
 expiration of his sentence, he provided him with 
 means, and having stated all the facts in a confidential 
 manner to a friend in the West, obtained him a situa- 
 tion in a flourishing city of that section of the Union. 
 The youth was overwhelmed with gratitude. He had 
 found a friend for the first time in his brief career. His 
 course from that moment was onward. He speedily 
 won the confidence of his employer, on whose death, 
 
360 THE PERILS OF WIT. 
 
 
 ten years thereafter, he succeeded to a large share in 
 his business. 
 
 " I am now," he said, "an equal partner in the rep- 
 utable and prosperous firm of & Co., of St. 
 
 Louis, and I have visited Philadelphia, not only on 
 business, but with the object of seeking out and return- 
 ing my heart warm acknowledgments to my early, my 
 ever-cherished — my often remembered benefactor." 
 
 The old merchant wept with joy at such a reform, 
 and acknowledged that this single incident had fully 
 repaid him for the hours, and days, and weeks he had 
 devoted, always prayerfully and hopefully, to the 
 blessed cause of kindness and prison reform. 
 
 
 8$t $ nils if 884. 
 
 " Satire recoils whenever charged too high." 
 
 A GOOD jest, a humorous remark, should be ap- 
 preciated and responded to by all who can 
 admire the various manifestations of superior mind. 
 It is difficult, however, for even an accomplished wit 
 to indulge the gift or faculty of readiness at all times, 
 without doing so at the expense of the feelings of some 
 friend or associate. Wit must always have an object, 
 a target; and hence the difficulty. A good-natured 
 sally, calculated to produce a laugh without inflicting 
 a wound, is well enough. But there are, in society, 
 individuals who are not only ready but bold of speech. 
 
TEE PERILS OF WIT. 361 
 
 and who abuse the faculty of language and of satire 
 with which they are so peculiarly endowed. Thus 
 they let their shafts of ridicule % right and left, with- 
 out regard to the sensitive or the diffident, and while 
 creating mirth for the gay and convivial circle, they 
 sometimes forget the poor victim who is writhing be- 
 fore them, and who, without the ability or the self- 
 possession to retort, is thus made a butt, jest, and 
 mock for others, and is utterly miserable meanwhile. 
 Is the course to which we have here briefly adverted 
 either magnanimous or manly ? Is it generous, cour- 
 teous, or humane? Would not an individual of great 
 physical strength, who was in the habit of manifesting 
 this strength upon the feeble in frame, and thus the 
 incapable of defence, and this, too, before a circle of 
 spectators — would not the conduct of such an indi- 
 vidual be regarded as any thing but chivalric and 
 justifiable ? Would he not be esteemed rather as a 
 coward than a brave man ? And yet the difference in 
 a struggle of wit and intellect, with the knowledge 
 that our opponent is inferior, with the consciousness 
 that he is diffident and we are bold, is not a whit less 
 unworthy. Let us not be misunderstood. Good-na- 
 tured, benevolent- minded raillery and mirth, are well 
 enough, and one of the most kind-hearted men of our 
 acquaintance is quite celebrated for his jests, gibes, 
 puns, and satirical remarks. But we scarcely know 
 how he manages — and yet he does — never to offend 
 or wound. The soul of good-nature himself, his, desire 
 is to communicate pleasure, to excite a laugh, and at 
 the same time to avoid any thing personal or offensive. 
 There are others again with whose wit a cutting bit- 
 terness is forever associated; and who, rather than 
 
862 THE PERILS OF WIT. 
 
 miss the opportunity of saying a smart thing, do not 
 hesitate to inflict a severe wound, and one that may 
 rankle for years. A fearful faculty — a dangerous pro- 
 pensity. Its exercise has lost many a friend; nay, 
 many a fortune. We have heard more than one apt 
 illustration. A few years since, in England, an afflu- 
 ent old gentleman had a nephew for whom he felt 
 much attachment, and to whom he intended to be- 
 queath a large portion of his property. The young 
 man was a careless, thoughtless, hap-hazard character, 
 who really loved his uncle, but who had a flippant 
 and reckless manner of expressing himself; a manner 
 intended rather to display his facility of language and 
 readiness of wit, than to do injury fco any human 
 being. Nevertheless, on a certain occasion he so far 
 forgot himself and propriety, as to crack a bitter joke 
 at the expense of his uncle, and to intimate that it was 
 little better than madness in the old gentleman to 
 hoard his fortune in such a miserly spirit, when he, 
 the nephew, intended to squander it with such prodi- 
 gality ! The mistake was fatal. The sensitive point 
 in the mind of the uncle was touched. The nephew 
 saw that he had committed a frightful error, and at- 
 tempted to correct it, but all in vain. He rather in- 
 creased than decreased the difficulty. The. old gentle- 
 man never forgave him, but altered his will, and cut 
 him off with a few hundred pounds. 
 
 The gentler sex, too, are often guilty of this error. 
 Some time since a very worthy young merchant of this 
 city, a merchant devoted to business, plain in his man- 
 ners, and with little taste for fashion and its follies, 
 was introduced to the daughter of a friend, and became 
 a suitor. The merchant possessed many noble quali- 
 
THE PEKILS OF WIT. 363 
 
 ties, but he had risen from a very humble position in 
 life, and had been compelled to toil early and late 
 during the first years of his manhood, and was not 
 of such finished manners, and so accomplished in 
 literary tastes and acquirements, as some others whose 
 opportunities had been far superior. But he was now 
 on the top wave of prosperity, his character, standing, 
 and credit, were high in the community, and the 
 match was regarded as particularly desirable for the 
 lady. She also appeared so to consider it, and en- 
 couraged his attentions. But she likewise encouraged 
 those of one or two more dashing beaux, young gen- 
 tlemen who prided themselves more upon their ac- 
 quaintance with the gay and convivial than the real 
 and the substantial, and who taught themselves to 
 believe that " mere business men 11 were quite an inferior 
 race. It so happened that, on a certain evening, the 
 merchant suitor was present with one or two of the 
 gentry we have described, when one of them ventured 
 to single him out as an object of wit and satire, and was 
 encouraged in the unworthy work by the young lady 
 herself. The party became somewhat excited during 
 the scene, and in the course of this excitement the feel- 
 ings of the merchant were so outraged, not seriously 
 or intentionally, perhaps, but still to such an extent, 
 that he writhed in very agony for the time, until, 
 unable to withstand the raillery any longer, he seized 
 his hat, left the room, and never appeared there again. 
 This happened several years since, and the fair offender 
 against proper feeling and good manners, is still among 
 the Misses, her chances not a little impaired by time, 
 and by the unhappy termination of the affair to which 
 we have so briefly alluded. But it is not necessary 
 
364 THE PERILS OF WIT. 
 
 to multiply cases. An offence may be given very 
 readily, a prejudice may be induced, a hatred excited, 
 even by a jest, if therewith a bitter and insulting spirit 
 be associated. Often too, in such cases, the offender is 
 astonished at the result of his remark, and would give 
 any thing in the world to be able to recall it. But it 
 cannot be forgotten very readily, even when forgiven ; 
 or a coolness may thus be caused and a feud com- 
 menced, which may continue for years, and be the 
 source of much anxiety and anguish. Therefore, 
 gentle reader, if disposed to be witty, strive also to be 
 kindly and good-natured, and by all means avoid 
 every species of satire that is calculated to pain, mor- 
 tify, or wound the feelings of the diffident and the 
 sensitive, Remember the language of the poet — 
 
 Curs'd be the wit, how well soe'er it flow, 
 That tends to make one worthy man my foe, 
 Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear, 
 Or from the soft-eyed virgin steal a tear." 
 
§Ka|pflintmtnt-Jfait^ 
 
 11 There is an Eye above, my son, 
 That slumbers not, nor sleeps ; 
 There is a friend in Heaven, love, 
 Who still his vigils keeps. 
 
 And though in trouble's darkest hour 
 His face he seems to shroud, 
 
 Believe, remember— 0, my son, 
 There's light behind the cloud !" 
 
 AFEIEND recently mentioned to us the particu 
 lars of a case, in which, an individual of impul- 
 sive character, sanguine temperament and vaulting am- 
 bition, experienced a bitter disappointment, which so 
 affected his mind and heart, that he sickened, withered, 
 and died. At first the story seemed improbable ; and 
 yet the circumstances were given in such detail, and 
 on such authority, that we, at last, felt satisfied that 
 the narrative was strictly accurate. On reflection, too, 
 we were able to point out several cases in which dis- 
 appointment had directly or indirectly driven its vic- 
 tims to despair, intemperance, and thus in the end 'to 
 utter ruin. One of a more refreshing character not 
 long since passed unHer our observation, in which an 
 individual of great energy of purpose, and who had 
 devoted a large portion of his life to the accomplish- 
 ment of an object, discovered, just as the prize was, to 
 all appearances, within his grasp, that he had been de- 
 ceived and betrayed, and that all his efforts had been 
 worse than wasted. 
 
 (365) 
 
366 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 "He gathered dust, when he had hop'd tu see 
 The richest fruits ; the buds that promis'd fair 
 Were early blasted, or but grew to be 
 A mockery — a harvest of despair." 
 
 The blow was a fearful one, and for a time he was 
 stunned and appalled. His time, his means, his hopes, 
 and his character, had all been devoted to an object 
 every way honorable; and he had every reason to 
 anticipate a satisfactory result. His friends assured 
 him that such would be the case, and thus the disap- 
 pointment was the more unexpected, the more over- 
 whelming. We knew him intimately, had seen him 
 wrestle and triumph over many petty difficulties, had 
 noticed with pleasure the recuperative energies of his 
 manly nature in ordinary trials and vicissitudes, and 
 therefore believed that even in this, he would eventu- 
 ally master the demon of bitterness and despair with 
 which he evidently was struggling. We watched him 
 closely, narrowly. He evidently strove to master his . 
 feelings — to appear gay, thoughtless and light-hearted, 
 and thus to conceal, as well as overcome, the moody 
 disquiet within. The contest nevertheless was a fearful 
 one. His cheek grew pale, his ej^e lost its wonted fire, 
 and his voice its full and melodious tone. But again 
 and again he roused himself, sought new objects, new 
 pursuits, new excitements of a wholesome character, 
 and finally prevailed! The bitterness passed away, 
 the melancholy forsook him, and although the ordeal 
 was a fiery one, he is now able to turn to it calmly, 
 philosophically, and to speak of it coolly as one of the 
 lessons of life's sad experience. Nine men out of ten 
 would have fallen under the blow, four out of five 
 would have sunk never to rise again. The hopes of 
 years had been dashed to the dust by a single act — 
 
 " Those high-built hopes, that crush us by their fall—." 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 367 
 
 and what had long appeared as verdure and promise, 
 was found to be sterile, bubble-like, and hollow. 
 
 But his was the true policy, the manly course 
 With time, faith and energy, almost any difficulty may 
 be f surmounted, any disappointment overcome. This 
 life at best is one of uncertainty. The brightest hopes 
 of to-day may vanish before to-morrow. The past we 
 remember, the present we see, but the future no 
 man may foretell. While striving and struggling to 
 accomplish an honorable purpose, while moving on- 
 ward in the pursuit of fame, fortune, or the means of 
 independence and content, we should be prepared for 
 vicissitudes. Nay, we should fortify * ourselves to 
 wrestle with and overcome them. There are few who 
 have lived beyond the years of manhood, have toiled 
 and contended in the various avenues of the out-door 
 world, who have not been deceived, misled, disap- 
 pointed, and betrayed. There are few who are stand- 
 ing upon the threshold of busy and responsible life, 
 "and straining their eyes into the dim future," who 
 will not experience bitterness of spirit at the failure of 
 fond schemes, the dissipation of bright hopes, the dis- 
 appearance of brilliant prospects. This they should 
 expect. They should strive to deserve success, but at 
 the same time be prepared for failure. 
 
 " In struggling with misfortune, lies the proof 
 Of virtue." 
 
 One disappointment, moreover, should not depress 
 or restrain. Such is the lot of man ; and experience, 
 even when it comes through trial and sorrow, is cal- 
 culated to chasten, soften and instruct. 
 
 We have a friend who cherishes and inculcates the 
 philosophy that every thing is for the best, not only 
 
368 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 as relates to the world beyond the grave, but even in 
 our mortal condition. Thus, when he experiences or 
 hears of a calamity, he is disposed to regard it as a 
 blessing in disguise, as something providential, and 
 calculated in the end to produce good fruit. The dark- 
 ness of to day, he argues, may only be a prelude to a 
 bright and glorious morrow. The misfortunes of the 
 present moment, he contends, are often designed to 
 qualify us for a higher prosperity in years to come. 
 And this, he says, is not merely a matter of faith and 
 theory, but it is based upon his own experience, as 
 well as upon a careful examination of the lives of 
 others. Disappointments are useful — nay, they are 
 often hallowed and intended in the kindliest spirit. 
 They teach us our dependence upon the Deity, show the 
 fallibility of human nature, prove the uncertainty of 
 temporal things, and thus induce us to think less of 
 this world, and more of that beyond the grave. 
 
 "Faith evermore looks upward." 
 
 This is certainly a wise, a hopeful, a truly moral 
 philosophy. If our motives be pure and our objects 
 laudable, we have nothing to fear in the future. Even 
 disappointment in such cases is calculated to bring 
 consolation, for we may hope that we deserve some- 
 thing better, and cherish the belief that that better will 
 still be realized. Few of us know ourselves. Few 
 thoroughly understand their own weaknesses, passions, 
 prejudices and infirmities. We know not what is best for 
 us. There is a Providence that superintends and over- 
 looks ; that comprehends at a glance, not only the past 
 and the present, but also the teeming and mysterious 
 future. Let us have faith in that Providence : and 
 
THE BALANCES OF LIFE. 
 
 while we strive to deserve blessings, let us be prepared 
 for disappointments— prepared not only to meet and 
 encounter, but to wrestle with and overcome them. 
 
 " The sun shines brightly behind every storm." 
 
 t %imm of life. 
 
 WE have often thought, in examining calmly and 
 carefully into the various phases of human 
 existence, in analyzing the bills of mortality, and com- 
 paring the changes and the chances that occur in the 
 fortunes of the rich and the poor, the proud and the 
 humble, that despite the bioad contrasts that appear 
 on the surface of things, despite the fact that the many 
 seem miserable and the few happy, comparatively 
 speaking, the enjoyments of this world are more nicely 
 balanced, more wisely and equitably divided, than the 
 superficial are apt to imagine. We now speak in a 
 general sense, and not with reference to individual 
 cases. The position, too, as it seems to us, is rational. 
 Why should the few be favored at the expense of the 
 many ? Why should a handful of human beings be 
 selected out as the recipients of the high favors of for- 
 tune, of health, and of happiness, to the neglect of the 
 millions? Why should the rich by inheritance, or 
 by some sudden turn of prosperity, be eminently con- 
 tented in mind, and exempt from the ordinary cares 
 to which flesh is heir, and the multitude, equally up- 
 right, intelligent, and virtuous, be subjected to every 
 
370 THE BALANCES OF LIFE. 
 
 species of anxiety and anguish ? Tt is not so. Such 
 a law would conflict with the beneficent principles of 
 the Author of our being and the Kuler of the world. 
 It would chill the heart of philanthropy, and deaden 
 the incentives to virtue. It would discourage the lover 
 of his kind, and retard the onward march of humanity. 
 But, we repeat, it is not so. The enjoyments of life 
 are nicely distributed and wisely balanced. However 
 desirable wealth may be, however power and place 
 may be coveted, it by no means follows that either is 
 inevitably associated with happiness. And assuredly 
 not, when the means of attainment have been tortuous, 
 unfair, unmanly, or dishonest. 
 
 We are among those who believe that, while virtue 
 has its own reward, vice is sure to be accompanied or 
 followed by an adequate punishment. And thus, we 
 hold the doctrine that, however dizzy the elevation, or 
 however Crcesus-like the wealth, there cannot be ease 
 of mind, calm of spirit, and repose of conscience, if 
 fraud and treachery and crime have formed "the 
 rungs of the ladder" through which the elevation has 
 been attained. Nay, in the very supposed hour of 
 enjoyment and of triumph, some unseen, some unex- 
 pected calamity, will be sure to track the footsteps of 
 the ambitious and the avaricious. Sickness will come 
 with its debilitating and paralyzing influence; the 
 loved ones of the soul will be borne away in the arms 
 of death ; a sudden expose will darken and overshadow 
 reputation; and thus life, though apparently golden 
 and glittering, will be hollow, empty, and vain. On 
 the other hand, the moderate in circumstances, but the 
 pure in heart, the individual who is of a cheerful and 
 contented spirit, who is in the full enjoyment of health, 
 
THE BALANCES OF LIFE. 37i 
 
 and of all his faculties, who is regular in his habits, 
 and correct in his social discipline, who has no gnaw- 
 ing adder of remorse eating away at his conscience, 
 whose sleep is deep and tranquil, and whose waking 
 moments are free from self-reproach — surely such a 
 person, and there are thousands and tens of thousands 
 of such in all the walks of humble life, is, compara- 
 tively speaking, a happy and an envied being. He 
 appreciates his position, is grateful for the blessings 
 he enjoys, and while prompted by a laudable desire to 
 attain an independent position, he does not fret his 
 soul away in bitter jealousy at the success of others, 
 and would not, for the mines of Golconda, wrong a 
 friend, malign a neighbor, defraud a fellow-creature, 
 or darken his memory in all time to come, by the per- 
 petration of any base or unworthy act. 
 
 True, he may live for years, and only live. He may 
 find it difficult to save any thing for a rainy day ; and 
 at times, for such is the human lot, he may have his 
 trials, his temptations, his anxieties, and his pangs. 
 But, with a due reliance upon self and upon Provi- 
 dence, with a consciousness that all is right within, 
 with the proud satisfaction that if the grave should 
 claim him to-morrow, he would pass away without a 
 dark spot upon his character, a perpetual sunshine 
 may be said . to play around his heart, to etherealize 
 his mind and spirit, and to rob even care of its frown. 
 It is thus, we contend, that the hopes and the pleasures 
 of life are nicely and wisely balanced. On the other 
 hand, how many temptations is wealth subjected to, 
 f rom which poverty is exempt; temptations in a 
 thousand forms, and which the affluent themselves do 
 not realize until too late. There is no greater curse 
 23 
 
872 THE BALANCES OF LIFE. " 
 
 in this world than idleness ; there is no more miserable 
 man than an idler. He either is often the victim of 
 bad habits, or the prey of morbid fancies. His imagi- 
 nation is quick and active ; he becomes miserable, and 
 he scarcely knows why. The subject is a fruitful one, 
 and capable of many illustrations. The true philoso- 
 phy is to appreciate and enjoy the comforts we possess, 
 the blessings that are vouchsafed to us, and not to 
 wander after forbidden fruits, covet our neighbor's 
 property, or aspire beyond reasonable bounds. If we 
 look around us, we will find that there are others far 
 less favorably circumstanced than ourselves, and who 
 yet are cheerful, contented, and grateful. There are 
 certain laws which govern human society, either of 
 which, if violated Constantly and habitually, will be 
 attended with bitter consequences. This all should 
 remember when examining their own cases, and com- 
 plaining of their own misfortunes. Thus, he who is 
 habitually treacherous or false, cannot look for con- 
 fidence and respect on the part of his friends and asso- 
 ciates. And thus, again, he who is idle and dissolute, 
 will be sure, sooner or later, to pay the adequate 
 penalties. And so too he who is careless and neglect- 
 ful, may look for carelessness and neglect with regard 
 to his family, his friends, his business, and his fortune. 
 Each should act according to his position, his means, 
 and his responsibilities, and with reference not only to 
 self and to time, but to society, and a higher, holier, 
 and happier condition in the life to come. 
 
 " Act well your part, 
 There all the honor lies." 
 
 I 
 
JfikEfg; or, tfr Jfak ana font. 
 
 " A heart as far from fraud as Heaven from Earth." 
 
 WE recently read a brief inscription on a tomb- 
 stone, comprised in these emphatic words — 
 " faithful till death." The sleeper had been a 
 wife, and the tribute, recorded in marble, was by her 
 bereaved husband. The epitaph was simple, and in 
 some degree commonplace, and yet it told the story 
 of a life of truth and fidelity. The memory of such a 
 being must ever be cherished, not only with tender- 
 ness and affection, but with conscientious respect and 
 awe. There are few who are faithful to the last ; few 
 who are true in all things ; few who may be relied 
 upon in every difficulty and under all circumstances ; 
 few who will cling the closer in the hour of adversity. 
 There is, indeed, nothing on this side the grave more 
 truthful, more beautiful, more priceless, than fidelity. 
 And this language will apply to many conditions of 
 life, many phases of feeling, many traits of character, 
 and many understandings between man and man. 
 Fidelity is the true, and treachery is the false. The 
 one has its source in the noblest feelings of our nature, 
 and the highest conceptions of principle, and the other 
 finds its excuse and its apology in sophistry, selfish- 
 ness, and self-deception. The one adorns, dignifies, 
 elevates, and refines; the other darkens, defaces, de- 
 bases, and brutalizes. Who that has ever enjoyed 
 23 (373) 
 
374 FIDELITY. 
 
 the privilege and the blessing of a faithful friend — one 
 who was so in deed as well as in name — one who was 
 so in the hour of vicissitude, in the day of trial, as 
 well as in the summer and sunshine of prosperity and 
 fortune — one who was so through good report and 
 through evil — one who was so, not for a day or a 
 year, but from boyhood up and on, through weal anr" 
 through woe, in manhood and in declining age — whcx 
 indeed, that has experienced all the truth, the sym- 
 pathy, the solicitude, and the generosity of such a 
 friend, can imagine any thing more valuable, more 
 precious, or better calculated to console, to cheer, and 
 to brighten the gloomy paths of the working-day 
 world ? Alas ! for the being who has never realized 
 the genuine sympathy of a kindred spirit — who has 
 gone through the world alone — who has never met 
 with one responsive heart — who has never won the 
 confidence, the friendship, the respect, and the affec- 
 tions of a fellow-creature 1 And still more lamentable, 
 if the isolated, the neglected, and the friendless have 
 been sensitive, susceptible, and capable of appreciating 
 all the finer and gentler emotions of the human breast. 
 And yet there are such unfortunates ; at least there 
 are many who, full of sympathy themselves, can excite 
 little or no sympathy in others. They are kind, gen- 
 erous, and amiable, and yet they lavish their affections 
 in vain, and meet with no response. Is it to be won- 
 dered at, that such beings sometimes become disheart- 
 ened, peevish, and at last cynical ? Can we be sur- 
 prised that they at length seek for some new source 
 of pleasure, and wrapping themselves up in their own 
 unhappiness, so to speak, determine that the world is 
 cold, heartless, and unfeeling. It is regarded as some- 
 
FIDELITY. 375 
 
 what romantic and sentimental, to see two individuals 
 of the same sex warmly attached to each other, living, 
 as it were, the one for the other, always associating, 
 always harmonizing, always defending, if necessary — 
 in brief, knit and united by an indissoluble bond of 
 friendship. Nevertheless, the spectacle is one that is 
 often gazed upon with feelings of envy. The sym- 
 pathy, the confidence, and the fidelity, that unite and 
 bind two such spirits, must be delightful. And if this 
 be the case between man and man, how heavenly must 
 be the union and harmony between the sexes ! " Faith- 
 ful till death!" Who that is about to enter into 
 wedded life, would not hope to have such an epitaph 
 written above his mortal remains by the being of his 
 choice, and at the same time desire to be able to indite 
 a like inscription, should he be the survivor? We 
 can imagine no situation more touching than that of 
 two aged beings bent with years and traveling slowly 
 down the hillside of life, hand in hand and heart to 
 heart — who feel, as they tread upon the threshhold of 
 the grave, that from the moment they stood together 
 before the altar, the sentiment of respect and affection 
 had remained unchanged — that they had gone on from 
 year to year, and from season to season, united in 
 spirit and in soul, relying, confident, satisfied, and 
 faithful. Fidelity is one of the noblest of virtues. It 
 purifies and adorns the human character. It is a twin- 
 sister of truth, and it can never have affinity or sym- 
 pathy with treachery or falsehood. " He is," observed 
 a friend of ours, a few days since, when speaking of 
 another, " he is a true man. There is nothing false, 
 double-dealing, or hypocritical in his composition. 
 He would scorn to speak an untruth, and he could 
 
376 FIDELITY. 
 
 never debase himself by a treachery ." A warm eulo- 
 gium, and a just one, under the circumstances. But 
 fidelity is a virtue that is not sufficiently appreciated. 
 There are few, moreover, who are faithful in all 
 things — who are faithful in business, faithful in 
 friendship, faithful in morals, and faithful in those 
 courtesies and obligations which are so admirably 
 calculated to soften and sweeten the social ameni- 
 ties of society. "We some days since saw a poor 
 fellow earnestly engaged in caressing a dog. The 
 affection that he lavished upon the animal was so 
 extraordinary that we ventured to ask the reason. He 
 hesitated a moment, and then related a story of do- 
 mestic sorrow, and turning to his dog, with tears in 
 his eyes, and a voice broken with emotion, exclaimed, 
 '' This poor beast is all I have left. He at least is 
 faithful." A distinguished statesman, some years 
 since, exclaimed, a One country, one home, and one 
 wife!" He had doubtless garnered his affections 
 within his own hallowed household, and his idea of 
 human happiness was embodied in the sentiment we 
 have quoted. And where, indeed, on this side the 
 grave, should we look for real enjoyment, for earthly 
 happiness, if not within the sacred precincts of home, 
 and in the fidelity of the beings of our friendship and 
 our affections ? 
 
fikt wok ®aW. 
 
 ° One science only will the genius fit, 
 So vast is art — so narrow human wit." 
 
 THE difference between tact and talent is quite 
 remarkable. In some cases the two qualities are 
 combined, but in many it is otherwise. Talent may 
 be regarded as a peculiar quality of mind, by which 
 an individual may be fitted for the accomplishment of 
 some important work, either in literature, in art, in 
 science, or in mechanics. Certain persons seem to be 
 especially qualified for the successful achievement of a 
 particular work, and thus they accomplish it with 
 comparative readiness. To them it is easy, while to 
 others it is difficult, if not impossible. Thus, for ex- 
 ample, we frequently see individuals who are admir- 
 ably adapted to some distinct branch of science or art. 
 Nature seems to have fitted them in an especial man- 
 ner for the task, and they readily secure success and 
 reputation. Others, equally well endowed in all other 
 respects, may struggle and strive for years, and yet be 
 still immeasurably behind. Indeed, there are some pur- 
 suits and callings that can scarcely be acquired, or at 
 least with any degree of perfection, unless in the first 
 place the learner have some decided taste or faculty 
 therefor. Witness, for example, the case of a painter. 
 How few of the multitude who toil up the steeps of 
 fame in this profession, ever become eminent I There 
 must be genius or talent in the first place. The cele» 
 
 (37,7) 
 
378 TACT AND TALENT. 
 
 brated masters of ancient as well as of modern times 
 have their imitators in almost countless numbers, but 
 the j are only imitators. The master-touches of the 
 great originals can no more be reproduced than the • 
 departed glow on the cheek of beauty. And so too in 
 the world of literature. The Homers, the Miltons, the 
 Shakspeares and the Byrons, who flashed like intel- 
 lectual meteors over the world of mind, and left behind 
 them imperishable records of original thought and pow- 
 erful genius, must be regarded as among the master- 
 spirits of their times, and all attempts to follow their 
 footsteps by the multitude of merely ordinary intellect- 
 ual endowments, are only calculated to show the pre- 
 eminence of " the few, the immortal names that were 
 not born to die." Nevertheless, tact is often successful, 
 in a worldly sense, where talent and genius fail. And 
 thus it is that many of the great inventors of the world 
 have gone down to the grave in comparative poverty, 
 while the fruits of their research, their ingenuity and 
 their thought have been seized upon by others, and 
 with the most signal success. In many cases, the indi- 
 vidual who devotes his days and his nights to some 
 arduous intellectual pursuit, who pursues some darling 
 object of his ambition, his taste or his fancy, regardless 
 of the every-day affairs of life, is apt to become so in- 
 terested, so engrossed, as to forget or overlook, to some 
 extent, the absolute means of ordinary subsistence, and 
 thus to find himself constantly engaged in two strug- 
 gles, one for bread and the other for fame. His pas- 
 sion and his genius are for some particular object, and 
 in aiming at its accomplishment, he forgets the chances 
 and changes of every-day life, and to a certain extent 
 oses his identity with mankind. Not so the individ- 
 
TACT AND TALENT. 79 
 
 ual of tact. He rather avails himself of the genius and 
 talent of others. Conscious that he himself is defective, 
 he watches for opportunities, and thus makes service- 
 able in his own case, the advantages of his friends 
 and neighbors. Genius often originates and designs, 
 and tact applies or makes useful. The one may be 
 said to embody the mind, the other the practical 
 application of that mind. The one occupies years of 
 earnest thought and patient investigation in solving 
 some great problem, the other awaits the result and 
 applies it to some useful purpose. Tact, moreover, 
 often succeeds where talent fails. The quality is in- 
 tended for society and the world, and there are few 
 who have not mixed with mankind observingly, who 
 can become tacticians, not only socially, but politically 
 and commercially. They, in fact, watch and catch the 
 living manners as they rise, and adapt themselves to 
 circumstances. They skim over the surface, rather 
 than penetrate into the recesses of the heart, and while 
 they have a smile and a good word for all, it is rarely 
 that they manifest any particular depth of feeling. Tact 
 in oratory is almost as essential as talent. Many an 
 eloquent speaker has not only exhausted his subject^ 
 but worn out the patience of his listeners, merely for 
 the want of a little tact. Had he stopped half way, all 
 would have been well, and he would have retired with 
 signal eclat. But interested himself, and with a flood of 
 ideas constantly rushing upon him, he has hurried on 
 from point to point, until at last, wearied, impatient 
 and excited, the good effect that might have been pro- 
 duced has been lost entirely. There are other orators 
 again, who manifest a sad want of tact, by speaking too 
 frequently. They are ready to display themselves on 
 
380 THE PENITENT. 
 
 all occasions, and hence they soon become flat, stale, and 
 unprofitable. Talent is an enviable, a desirable qual- 
 ity, but tact is almost as essential in many of the walks 
 of life. Not a few of our public men are distinguished 
 as much by tact as by talent. They appear before 
 their fellow-citizens only when necessary, and then 
 they combine and display prudence, judgment, and 
 good sense. They are indisposed to exhaust them- 
 selves, either mentally or in any other sense. They 
 are tacticians by experience and observation, and 
 they have thus discovered that it is quite as essen- 
 tial to occupy a retired position at times, as it is at 
 others to court the eye of the public. But the great 
 desideratum is talent associated with tact. The one 
 thus directs and assists the other; and when united 
 with industry and perseverance, they are, in the great 
 multitude of cases, productive of the happiest results. 
 
 " Deal gently with the erring." 
 
 CASES are constantly occuning, in which, by in- 
 discretion, error, or misfortune, individuals are 
 toppled from a high position in society, and made 
 bankrupt, not only in fortune, but in friendship and 
 in reputation. The world suddenly becomes dark to 
 them, and the future hopeless. They feel as if pros- 
 trated by some overwhelming blow; and unable to 
 
THE PENITENT. 3fci 
 
 rally their energies, they sink step by step, and soon 
 pass into a condition truly deplorable, even the con- 
 templation of which they would have shrunk from 
 with horror in their " better days." Nevertheless, if 
 animated by sympathy, and encouraged by hope, they 
 will readily rally; and, engaging once more in the 
 active scenes of life, soon forget their recent misfor- 
 tune. Adversity, indeed, often truly tests the char- 
 acter. Nay, it not only tests the innate energy of the 
 sufferer, but it tests the sincerity of his friends. All 
 are more or less liable to reverses. There is scarcely 
 an individual in the enjoyment of fortune, who has 
 not passed through more than one fiery struggle. 
 We occasionally hear of cases of " uninterrupted pros- 
 perity," but they are generally exaggerations. Most 
 of us are too apt to look at the present alone, and to 
 be regardless of the past as well as the future. We 
 see but the success or the failure of the present hour, 
 and we make up our judgment accordingly. A lucky 
 speculation often wins for its projector the reputation 
 of great sagacity. But let the same person make a 
 frightful blunder, and he will at once not only be 
 laughed at and derided, but even his integrity will be 
 assailed. It is the fashion of the world to bow be- 
 fore success, and to turn away coldly and indifferently 
 from failure. 
 
 But exactly in the degree that misfortunes await 
 upon integrity and perseverance, should courage and 
 determination increase. The true doctrine is, never to 
 despair. A little longer, and the night that has been 
 so long dark, may brighten with hope and pros- 
 perity. Who has not seen cases, in which individuals 
 have abandoned themselves to inactivity, when, if 
 
382 THE PENITENT. 
 
 they bad beld out a little longer, all would bave been 
 well? Who cannot point out, in bis own history, 
 some incident in which a little more perseverance 
 would have accomplished the object ? It is impossi- 
 ble for a human being to foretell the hour when a 
 change for the better will take place— when the tide 
 of fortune will turn — when the prospect, however 
 dark, will soften into brightness and beauty. " While 
 there is life there is hope;" and no man who has 
 energy and strength, and integrity and character, 
 should idly abandon himself to despair. If, more- 
 over, an individual has, in some hour of temptation, 
 in some moment of weakness, committed an indiscre- 
 tion or an error — one, too, of a truly serious char- 
 acter — and if thereafter he should become penitent 
 and ready to make every reparation in his power, the 
 world should not turn away coldly, tauntingly and 
 mockingly ; but the infirmities of our nature should 
 be duly considered, and he should be afforded another 
 chance. "Let him who is without sin cast the first 
 stone !" Who is without infirmities ? Who is free 
 from weakness and error? And why, because a 
 fellow-creature has gone astray once, has committed 
 some rash act — an act that he now deplores in the 
 very bitterness of anguish — why should he be banned, 
 shunned, and avoided ? If sensitive and unobtrusive, 
 his case is only the worse. The bold and heartless 
 treat such things lightly, and thus readily brave all 
 the consequences. 
 
 But there are others, who, when they have once 
 gone wrong, fancy that the whole world is ringing 
 with their offence, that they are unworthy any longer 
 to mingle with their fellow- creatures, and hence they 
 
THE PENITENT. 883 
 
 shrink into retirement and wither away in shame. 
 They cannot brave the harsh looks and harsher words 
 of the heartless and the cruel. They fancy that the 
 eyes of the whole community are directed toward 
 them, and that they never can recover a position of 
 influence and respectability. Surely, a kindly, a gen- 
 erous, a forgiving spirit, should be manifested toward 
 all such. A distinction should be made between the 
 deliberately guilty, and the misjudging and the indis- 
 creet. A single error — the fruit of circumstances — 
 should not overwhelm at once and forever. But what 
 is the remedy ? In the language of the old adage — " a 
 friend in need is a friend indeed." There are hundreds 
 in every community who have the means, as well as 
 the power, to assist, revive, and restore, such unfor- 
 tunates as we have described. But how few are will- 
 ing to step forward at moments so critical! How 
 few, even with the disposition, can command the 
 energy ! The current is against the erring and mis- 
 guided — and the cases are rare, in which men will 
 attempt to stem the current, especially if self-interest 
 point the other way. Yet the effort is a manly, a 
 noble one. He is indeed a genuine philanthropist, 
 who, in the hour of downfall and misfortune, hastens 
 to the victim, and at once endeavors to soothe and 
 assist. He is superior to his kind, who, even when 
 error, the infirmity of a fatal hour, or the temptation 
 of a critical moment, has been the cause of disaster 
 and dishonor — is still willing to judge kindly and 
 generously, to whisper words of consolation as well 
 as to proffei the means of assistance. 
 
Cjre Ises of Hbksttg. 
 
 " How frail men, things ! how momentary both !" — Toting. 
 
 ACELEBKATED writer has said: "In prosperity 
 prepare for a change — in adversity hope for one." 
 A distinguished orator, also, on a great occasion re- 
 marked: "Kemember, the wheel of Providence is 
 always in motion, and the spoke that is uppermost 
 will be under — therefore, mix trembling with your 
 joy." We have been reminded of these sentiments 
 and admonitions by the recent disaster to the steamer 
 Swallow, in which, in the course of a single hour, 
 many, who were beaming with youth, and hope, and 
 expectation, were hurried into another world ; and by 
 the appalling fire at Pittsburg, in which the rich were 
 suddenly made poor, and the prosperous reduced to a 
 condition of comparative want. But these calamities, 
 however deplorable, and calculated to touch our feel- 
 ings and excite our sympathies, should not be without 
 their uses. The ways of Providence are often myste- 
 rious; and it not unfrequently happens that even 
 frightful adversities or incidents, which so appear at the 
 time, conceal great moral blessings — are fraught with 
 solemn admonitions to the world, and are designed to 
 show how vain, poor, and perishing, are earthly riches, 
 and how " a breath can mar, as a breath has made," 
 even the loftiest and the wealthiest among the sons 
 of men. But for these occasional disasters — but for 
 (384) 
 
THE USES OF ADVERSITY. 385 
 
 solemn and striking admonitions — too many of us 
 would grow careless and indifferent, forgetful of the 
 transitory nature of this life, and of our responsibilities 
 to the Deity. How often do we find the comparatively 
 sordid and hardened, moved, touched, and melted by 
 the death of some friend or relative — by some serious 
 affliction at home — by some frightful calamity that 
 passes immediately under their eyes! Death may 
 stalk around our neighborhood, may strike down ac- 
 quaintance after acquaintance, and we still remain 
 cold and indifferent. But let him enter our own 
 dwelling, victimize a beloved wife, a cherished child, 
 or threaten, through some of his ministers of disease, 
 to shorten our own career, and then we may be in- 
 duced to pause, to look wistfully at the past, the pres- 
 ent, and the future, and to decide that it is wise and 
 well to make some preparation for a catastrophe that 
 is inevitable. So also with great calamities. We 
 may hear of them in foreign countries, in distant cities 
 and remote regions; earthquakes may engulf, and 
 wars may sweep away thousands of human beings — 
 and yet the details will scarcely excite a momentary 
 sensation. A few expressions of horror will be ut- 
 tered, and then the thought will steal over us, that 
 the trouble is remote, that we at least are safe, and the 
 wide-spread ruin will be soon forgotten. 
 
 " All men think all men mortal but themselves." 
 
 But when death and desolation are brought to our 
 own doors, when we can be made to realize by imme- 
 diate proximity, the disaster and all its terrible con- 
 sequences — 
 
 "when some alarming shock of Fate 
 
 Strikes through the wounded heart the sudden dread/' 
 
386 THE USES OF ADVERSITY 
 
 then it is that the mortal quivers — that the soul is 
 awed, and we feel our own insignificance and nothing 
 ness, and our utter dependence upon an overruling 
 Providence. The warnings of the Almighty are thus 
 thundered directly into our ears. His admonitions are 
 breathed from the cold and deathlike object of affec- 
 tion, and from the crumbling and smoking ruins of 
 the conflagrated city. Startled from our torpor, for 
 the moment at least, we look beyond this life and this 
 " ant-hill earth," we remember our position and re- 
 sponsibilities, the eye of mind is quickened with a 
 stronger vision, and we regard the duties of charity 
 and benevolence, and the obligation of Christianity, in 
 a clearer, fuller, and truer view. May we not then, 
 without impropriety, regard the disasters to which we 
 have just adverted, as intended, in some degree, as 
 admonitions ? Is it not well, at least, on the part of 
 those who have escaped, or been spared any direct 
 participation in the affliction, to show their feelings of 
 gratitude, and their appreciation of obligation and 
 duty, by contributing as abundantly as possible to 
 the wants and necessities of the sufferers ? Here is a 
 wide field for philanthropy. Our friends, our neigh- 
 bors, have been prostrated by a sudden and over- 
 whelming visitation. We have escaped. Our homes 
 and our firesides are still protected. We are yet in 
 the enjoyment, not only of the necessaries, but of 
 many of the luxuries of life. But our brethren, citi 
 zens of the same State, are suffering under a frightful 
 misfortune. Now, therefore, is the opportune mo- 
 ment for us to hasten to their assistance. Thus, we 
 shall at once, not only show our sense of thankful- 
 ness for blessings enjoyed, but our appreciation of 
 
STYLE AND DKESS. 387 
 
 duty as members of a Christian community, and as 
 believers in a faith that points to a resting-place, in a 
 region where mortal calamity is unknown, and where 
 life is not only eternal, but of unmingled bliss. 
 
 "Dazzled a moment — failed and was despised." 
 
 CIOME of our citizens are becoming alarmed, and 
 KJ with reason, at the progress of modern extrava- 
 gance. The age is evidently a fast one, and in many 
 respects. The old-fashioned notions of our fathers, 
 their moderate habits and economical principles, are 
 ridiculed and laughed at. The few, moreover, who 
 attempt to imitate them now, are regarded as niggardly, 
 narrow-minded, and behind the time. The puzzle, in- 
 deed, is to discover how a large portion of the would-be 
 fashionables contrive to live. Extravagance is the 
 order of the day. Palace-like residences and elegant 
 furniture are now considered as among the essentials. 
 Twenty or thirty years ago, and the case was widely 
 different. Then a neat dwelling, ueatly furnished, was 
 all that was required by new beginners. Young 
 couples, when entering into the holy state of wedlock, 
 were quite satisfied with the comforts of life, and paid 
 but little attention to the superfluities. The policy 
 pursued by them, was to live within their means, and 
 thus gradually to acquire a pecuniary independence. 
 A house that rented for two or three hundred dollars 
 U 
 
388 STYLE AND DRESS. 
 
 a year was all-sufficient. The furniture, too, was se- 
 lected accordingly. And thus, an income of a thou- 
 sand dollars a year was every way adequate to keep 
 up a genteel and respectable appearance. But what a 
 change has since taken place! The fact simply is. 
 that many of our young men are deterred from matri- 
 mony, because of the extravagant ideas of the gentler 
 portion of creation. Two great objects seem to be 
 aimed at — style and dress. A dashing establish- 
 ment is the first essential, and then silks and satins, 
 bonnets and shawls, at a co^t of hundreds of dollars 
 per annum. Can we wonder at occasional misunder- 
 standings at home, domestic scenes, and even bank- 
 ruptcies, under these circumstances? The fond hus- 
 band is compelled to do one of two things, either to 
 impair his credit or to check his wife's extravagance. 
 If he lack the nerve for the latter, the former will be 
 inevitable. The better plan is to tell the whole truth, 
 and at the earliest opportunity. A sensible woman 
 will then govern herself accordingly. It often happens 
 that husbands mislead and deceive their wives. They 
 pretend, from a sense of false pride, to be worth more 
 than they really are, and thus they induce expendi- 
 tures which otherwise would be avoided. The woman 
 who, after being informed of the real facts, still rushes 
 on recklessly and blindly, proves herself false to her 
 position and her duties. This is especially the case, 
 if her husband be confiding, affectionate, and yet in 
 moderate circumstances. We always regard it as a 
 bad sign, to see a young couple beginning the world 
 as if they had an income of thousands, when in fact 
 they tave a fortune yet to realize. ''Make haste 
 rlowly ! ' is an apothegm that is full of meaning. Not 
 
STYLE AND DRESS. 389 
 
 a few young persons suppose that they should start 
 where their fathers left off. In other words, that they 
 should commence life as if they had been toiling on 
 for years, and had been eminently successful. How 
 much better to extend their operations gradually, to 
 increase their comforts and enjoyments as they increase 
 their resources ; instead of beginning with a dash and 
 a display, only to fall back, in the course of a few 
 years, from the force of a stern necessity. Neverthe- 
 less, too many of both sexes forget this homely phi- 
 losophy, and bewildered with the fascinations of the 
 moment, commence a career of life and a mode of 
 living which must inevitably lead to disaster. The 
 error is one .of the times. It is inculcated by our 
 fashionable system. The almost universal desire is, 
 to live for display, to excite admiration, to foment 
 jealousy and envy. In brief, to dazzle the out-door 
 world, without reference to economy, real comfort, 
 and true integrity. How many are, at this moment, 
 squandering in style and dress, funds that should be 
 reserved for other purposes. Nay, how many, tempted 
 and betrayed by the false system to which we have 
 alluded, sacrifice character itself, in order to obtain the 
 means whereby to adorn the person. The matron is 
 satisfied with nothing less than silks and satins, and 
 the maid follows her example. The mother, either 
 vain herself, or vain of her children, is satisfied with 
 nothing less than the most brilliant apparel, and her 
 daughters, of course, follow in her footsteps. Thus, 
 extravagance is inculcated on all sides. Fathers suffer, 
 and young men are intimidated. If the latter reflect 
 for a moment, they see that matrimony, under such 
 circumstances, is certain ruin. Hence they avoid the 
 
890 THE CLOSE OF THE WEEK. 
 
 perilous step, or they manifest a becoming firmness, 
 by correcting the evil at the outset. This is no idle 
 story, but the sober truth — truth, too, that will be 
 recognized and appreciated by hundreds in our own 
 community. We repeat — extravagance in dress, in 
 furniture ; and in outward display generally, is one of 
 the most serious evils of the present day. It is the 
 curse of many a household, and it drives many an 
 indulgent husband or parent to desperation, despair, 
 and ultimate ruin. Mothers, wives, and daughters — 
 we beg you to ponder upon these solemn facts. An 
 elegant dress is very desirable, but it should never be 
 secured at the cost of honor or of honesty ; at the 
 sacrifice of the finer feelings of the human heart, or 
 even of the humbler comforts of a happy family. 
 
 W €lmt of % Uttk-Satobajj ligljt 
 
 " At length his homely hut appears in view, 
 Beneath the shelter of an aged tree. 
 Th' expectin' wee things, toddlin' stacher through 
 To meet their dad, in flickering noise and glee ; 
 His wee-bit ingle blinkin' bonnilie, 
 His clean hearth-stone — his thriftie wifie's smile, 
 The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 
 Does all his weary kiough and care begnile, 
 And makes him quite forget his labor and his toil." 
 
 WHAT vast multitudes of the human family look 
 forward with agreeable anticipations to the close 
 of each week! The toilers throughout the nations may 
 be counted by millioDs. They are compelled to eat 
 
THE CLOSE OF THE WEEK. 391 
 
 bread by the sweat of the brow. They go forth from 
 day to day to their various avocations, often cheerful, 
 buoyant and elastic in spirits ; but sometimes weary, 
 feeble and depressed. And when, too, age steals on, 
 with its decrepitude and care, — when the hair is whit- 
 ened and the form is bowed — when there are many 
 mouths to feed at home — when food, and raiment, and 
 fire- wood are required — and when, too, as is often the 
 case, sickness and death enter the abodes of the hum- 
 ble and the poor, the fortunes of a mere laboring man, 
 one who is compelled to depend upon the earning of 
 each day for daily bread, may well be imagined as 
 fraught with no little anxiety, solicitude, and appre- 
 hension. To the independent or the affluent the mor- 
 row has few cares, comparatively speaking. They look 
 forward with confidence, and are only solicitous as to 
 the most agreeable mode of passing their time. Every 
 day is to them a holiday, and they are disturbed by 
 few of the anxieties which are connected with the ne- 
 cessities of existence. But not so the multitude who 
 are dependent upon their sinewy arms and their phys- 
 ical strength, and who are compelled to labor on from 
 month to month, and from year to year, in a kind of 
 ceaseless round of toil. Fortunately, the great major- 
 ity of all such take the world lightly, nerve themselves 
 to their various positions, and without pondering too 
 deeply upon the time to come, its chances and changes, 
 they laugh the hours away merrily and cheerfully, and 
 indulge in the blessed philosophy of contentment ! In 
 this country, moreover, and in several others, they 
 have their many social enjoyments, their family 
 festivals, their kindly companionships, and thus are 
 often as happy, nay, more so, with their limited means, 
 
392 THE CLOSE OF THE WEEK. 
 
 than many who are basking in the favors of Fortune 
 and the sunshine of worldly prosperity. It is well 
 that it is so. There must be a great variety of fortunes 
 among the sons of men, and the wise policy is for each 
 to adapt himself to his condition, to enjoy the comforts 
 and the blessings that are within bis reach, and to in- 
 dulge in no unnecessary murmurs because another ap- 
 pears to be more prosperous or more felicitous in his 
 worldly progress. But to all who are compelled to 
 toil, who are doomed, as it were, by the necessities of 
 position, the responsibilities of family, and the require- 
 ments of every-day life, to go forth into the crowd on 
 Monday morning, and to struggle on throughout the 
 week — how reviving, refreshing and consoling must 
 be the return of each Satueday night ! How many 
 gentle associations are connected with that happy 
 period, and the long and soothing repose of the ensuing 
 Sunday ! For one night at least, sleep may be enjoyed, 
 without any anxiety as to the toil of the morrow. The 
 mind and the body may alike experience renovation, 
 and nature, worn and exhausted, recover something 
 of her wonted strength and her former elasticity. The 
 family circle, too — how apt are the mother and the 
 little ones to look for some peculiar mark of kindness 
 and good- will, to seek for indulgence in the out-door 
 world — some place of entertainment and enjoyment, 
 or to mingle together in some innocent festivity at 
 home ! It should be the duty of all who have influ- 
 ence and position, who occupy a responsible station as 
 the head of a household, who are looked up to and re- 
 spected, to beautify and consecrate these delightful 
 periods on the way-side of existence — these pauses and 
 resting-places, on the hillside of life — these green and 
 
THE CLOSE OF THE WEEK. 393 
 
 sunny spots in the journey of the world, by some act 
 of kindness, gentleness, affection, and friendship. The 
 close of each week should be brightened and beautified 
 by some significant manifestation ; and thus it would 
 be looked for longingly and lovingly, and turned to 
 again and again in after- time, as a period touched with 
 more than ordinary brightness, and gladdened and 
 beautified by some peculiar charm. We have often 
 looked with interest at the children of toil, as they 
 have hurried home from their daily tasks, on a Satur- 
 day afternoon or evening. A lighter step than usual, 
 a brighter eye and a more cheerful spirit, are ever apt 
 to characterize them. They feel that they have thrown 
 by the implements of toil, and the anxieties of labor, 
 for at least one day, and they look for a warmer wel- 
 come at home, and a richer smile, for there are few 
 who at such a season, do not bear with them some 
 little tribute of affection, or are not prepared to mani- 
 fest their generous and kindly feelings, by some gen- 
 tle and becoming act. The laugh within the sacred 
 precincts of the household, is ever more joyous on a 
 Saturday night. It is, a period when the heart over- 
 flows, when its natural impulses and instincts have 
 full vent, and when neighborly visits and friendships 
 are indulged and enjoyed, and many little courtesies 
 are exchanged. It is, moreover, a prelude to the hal- 
 lowed day of rest, a day when the working world 
 ceases from its bustle and its din, and Nature — still 
 calm and tranquil, seems to partake of that spirit ot 
 peace and of religion which is so characteristic of most 
 of the civilized nations of the earth. The close of tho 
 week is indeed a period as well of thought as of 
 feeling, a season to forget and forgive-— a moment 
 
394 THE HABIT OF INDUSTRY. 
 
 admirably suited to adjust the harsh asperities and 
 sharp collisions that have taken place — a calm and 
 hallowed time, when families should indulge in inno- 
 cent enjoyments, and all the ties that can unite hearts, 
 hands, and affections, should be renovated, revived, and 
 strengthened. 
 
 #mtptimt 
 
 "Bat parents, to their offspring blind, 
 Consult not parts, nor tarn of mind ; 
 But, even in infancy, decree 
 What this, what th' other son shall be." — Gay's Fables. 
 
 THE most unhappy members of society are the 
 idle — or those who have no regular occupation, 
 and no habit of industry. It has been well said that 
 the " success of individuals in life is greatly owing to 
 their learning early to depend upon their own re- 
 sources. Money, or the expectation of it by inherit- 
 ance, has ruined more men than the want of it ever 
 did. Teach the young to rely upon their own efforts, 
 to be frugal and industrious, and you will furnish 
 them with a productive capital which no man can 
 wrest from them, and one which they themselves will 
 not feel disposed to yield. Inculcate a habit of indus- 
 try in early years, furnish some regular course of em- 
 ployment, either professional, mechanical, or artistical, 
 and you will do two important things : — 
 
 First — you will furnish your son with the means of 
 
THE HABIT OF INDUSTRY. 395 
 
 livelihood, and hence of independence — and second, 
 you will keep him from the ways of idleness, and, 
 hence, from many of the temptations which surround 
 the listless and unemployed. A regular occupation 
 is all important. It is essential, as well for peace of 
 mind as for worldly prosperity. Better, far better, to 
 have a boy familiar with the humblest calling, by 
 which he can at any moment earn an honest liveli- 
 hood, than to have him apt, ready, agreeable, and 
 witty, but at the same time indisposed, or unable, for 
 want of the necessary application and information, to 
 pursue a regular and positive occupation. A good 
 trade, calling, or avocation, is far better for a young 
 man than a small fortune. The former is an indepen- 
 dence for life, or»so long as he enjoys mental and 
 physical health ; while the latter may be squandered 
 in a few years, and the chances are ten to one that it 
 will be, unless habits of economy and industry are 
 inculcated in early youth. The very anticipation of 
 fortune by inheritance is a serious evil in many cases. 
 It relaxes the character, enfeebles the power of self- 
 reliance, induces apathy and indolence, and is too fre- 
 quently the forerunner of vicious habits and all their 
 evil consequences. Let a youth understand that he 
 can get along in the world without a resort to his own 
 powers of mind and of body, and he will take very little 
 pains to qualify himself for the trials and temptations 
 to which all are more or less subjected. But teach 
 him the great lesson of self-reliance and self-depen- 
 dence, and the virtue and energy of his character will 
 very speedily be manifested. " ISTo rich man," says an 
 eloquent divine, " no rich, man is safe who is not a 
 benevolent man." We may add, that no young man 
 
396 THE HABIT OF INDUSTRY. 
 
 is safe who lias not a regular occupation, some visible 
 means of livelihood, which shall engage his head or 
 his hands, interest his thoughts, his feelings, and his 
 heart. 
 
 Do all parents and guardians duly consider these 
 plain, common- sense truths ? Do they remember the 
 high responsibility which devolves upon them, as 
 directors of the minds, purposes, and employments of 
 the young ? Do they, when about to urge them to a 
 particular business, consider the disposition and capac- 
 ity, have reference to the future as well as the present, 
 and endeavor to secure the selection of a path calcu- 
 lated to lead to competence and prosperity, one in- 
 tended for a lifetime and not for the hour, one chosen 
 with a view to all the circumstances of the case, and 
 without reference to vanity and pride? Alas! how 
 many young men have wasted the greenness and 
 flower of their lives upon employments for which 
 they were never suited, which they never would have 
 chosen, had they possessed the slightest knowledge of 
 the world, and which they abandoned at the first 
 favorable opportunity ! How apt are parents to de- 
 sire to see their children merchants and wholesale 
 dealers, who forget that, in order to occupy such po- 
 sitions, they must either, in the first place, be pro- 
 vided with a large amount of capital, or toil on for 
 years, slowly and cautiously, devote themselves night 
 and day to the principles of trade, and be remarkable 
 not only for economy and energy, but for enterprise, 
 tact, and judgment! How many, too, engage their 
 sons as clerks in extensive establishments, forgetful 
 that the chance must be a rare one, which will enable 
 them, on attaining the age of manhood, to start in a 
 
THE HABIT OF INDUSTRY. 397 
 
 like occupation for themselves ! The choice of an 
 occupation is indeed a great, a grave matter. Laud- 
 able ambition is every way desirable and commend- 
 able. But the cases are so frequent in which a false 
 pride induces an erroneous judgment, that we have 
 thrown out these hints for the benefit of the vain, the 
 thoughtless, and the indiscreet. The head of a family 
 who has several sons, may, with propriety, vary their 
 avocations; but it is egregious vanity, to say the 
 least, in a father who has half-a-dozen boys, to sup- 
 pose that they are all calculated to shine in the higher 
 walks of literature, science, intellect, and commerce. 
 That they are all endowed with extraordinary genius, 
 and suited to 
 
 " Climb 
 The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar." 
 
 Such expectations are likely to end in bitterness and 
 disappointment. The son, too, is often made the vic- 
 tim. He imbibes notions of pride which unfit him 
 for the humbler but not less honorable pursuits of 
 life — fancies it a degradation to resort to a plain, sub- 
 stantial, mechanical, or manufacturing occupation — 
 sees a marked distinction between the merchant or 
 professional man, and the mere trader or storekeeper, 
 and drags on a miserable existence of poverty, pride, 
 indolence, and unhappiness. Nay, submit to him 
 some ordinary mode of livelihood, some calling that 
 may be regarded as rather rough and unpolished, and 
 he will turn from it with contempt. And, strange as 
 the inconsistency may seem, he will rather be a de- 
 pendent gentleman, than an independent tradesman or 
 mechanic — rather flutter among the follies and frivoli- 
 
398 FORBEARANCE. 
 
 ties of fashion, than mingle with men in a manly and 
 energetic spirit. And there are many such in society, 
 many pitiful apologies for the sterner sex, who havp 
 been falsely educated — who have been nurtured with 
 hopes and expectations never to be realized — who lack 
 habits of industry — a positive and substantial occupa- 
 tion, and yet fancy that they are genteel, and made 
 of finer and purer material than that which constitutes 
 the bone, sinew, energy, and character of the hardy 
 sons of industry and enterprise ! Alas for the delu- 
 sion ! It carries with it its own penalty. 
 
 "Though justice he thy plea, consider this— 
 That in the course of justice, none of us 
 Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy. ' ' Shakspeare. 
 
 nnHE disposition to pronounce judgment rashly, 
 JL and not only to do this, but to carry out the de- 
 cision by acts, is at once unwise, unfair, and unchris- 
 tian. Human nature is, in its best condition, liable to 
 err. We are all, more or less, the creatures of circum- 
 stances, interests, prejudices, and passions. Fallibility 
 is a portion of our lot and destiny. There is nothing 
 perfect this side the grave. The man who to-day 
 arrogates to himself high claims and merits for his 
 self-denial, self-restraint, and unfaltering integrity, 
 may to-morrow be subjected to some fiery ordeal, 
 
FOEBEAEANCE. 399 
 
 some fearful temptation, and fall, never to rise again. 
 Few of us know ourselves — know all our weaknesses 
 and infirmities. It is only by adversity, by prosperity, 
 or by being subjected to peculiar influences at peculiar 
 times, that we are fully tried and tested. It is an easy 
 thing to pass judgment upon another; to denounce 
 this man because he has wandered from the paths of 
 rectitude, and that because, in a moment of awful suf- 
 fering, privation, and poverty, he faltered from the 
 way of integrity and duty. It is, we contend, an easy 
 thing for us to affirm, nay, to believe, that under similar 
 circumstances we would have wrestled, resisted, and 
 prevailed. But, we repeat, few know themselves; 
 few see themselves as they really are ; few recognize 
 the weaknesses of their own minds and hearts ; few 
 are fully conscious of their infirmities of temper, of 
 prejudice, of avarice, of vanity, of self-will. It is 
 therefore that we earnestly urge the exercise of for- 
 bearance and generosity, when speaking of the conduct 
 of others. Nothing is more fallible than the human 
 mind and the human heart. All are more or less 
 influenced by causes and circumstances which they 
 cannot rightly see, and therefore cannot appreciate. 
 There is scarcely a reader who could not single out 
 from his own immediate circle of acquaintances, some 
 individual of plain personal appearance, awkward and 
 ungainly manner, who nevertheless fancies that he is 
 a perfect Adonis in face and form, and a Chesterfield 
 in taste and refinement. The blindness and folly of 
 such an error is at once amusing and humiliating. 
 But in most cases it is incurable. So again, it often 
 happens that an individual imagines that he is remark- 
 ably apt, ready, and witty, when, in fact, he is pre- 
 
400 FORBEAPwANCE. 
 
 cisely the reverse. Others may see the delusion, but 
 he cannot. He is its victim ; his judgment is preju- 
 diced, blinded, and it is likely to remain so for years, 
 perhaps for life. • Who does not labor under some 
 error of education, of circumstance, of prejudice, or of 
 habit ? 
 
 It is quite a common occurrence with many persons 
 to become excited, when they hear the partial details 
 of a trial for an alleged offence, and to express them- 
 selves in the strongest terms of indignation — nay, to 
 affirm that it is impossible for their views to change. 
 And yet the whole story, both sides, may convince 
 them that they sadly misjudged in the first case. 
 They then are quite as eager to recant as they at first 
 were to condemn. They, at least, are disposed to 
 qualify their former opinions, and to admit that they 
 were rash and hasty. Alas 1 that these cases are so 
 frequent — that so many "jump at conclusions," and 
 pronounce judgment without reference to all the facts 
 and circumstances. The sacred precept of " Do unto 
 others as ye would they should do unto you" is vio 
 lated or forgotten. Few stop to inquire, few address 
 to themselves the query, " Were I so circumstanced, 
 how would I act ? Had / been subjected to the same 
 vicissitudes, trials, and temptations, what would have 
 been my course?" But even supposing that moral 
 training, a fair education, habits of integrity and 
 sobriety, would have enabled us to resist, should we 
 not, before arriving at a decision, ascertain whether 
 the unfortunate, upon whose case we are about to pro 
 nounce judgment, enjoyed equal advantages and priv* 
 ileges — and if not, should we not manifest forbearance 
 and liberality ? Man is too disposed to deal harshly 
 
FORBEARANCE. 401 
 
 with liis fellow-creature. "We are too inclined, by a 
 strange perversity of our nature, to crush the fallen 
 rather than to encourage, sustain, and recall to the 
 ways of well-doing. We affect a sympathy, and yet 
 we fail to act out the generous feeling. We deplore 
 the misfortune, regret the error and the downfall, but 
 we do not step forward and extend the hand of assist- 
 ance. We denounce, pass judgment rashly, and thus 
 fail to make allowance for the infirmities of poor 
 human nature, for poverty, for ignorance, for trial, for 
 temptation, and the many other circumstances calcu- 
 lated to influence the character and the case. Beware, 
 gentle reader — beware of rash judgments. Act a 
 generous part toward the erring and the frail. Thank 
 the Almighty for the blessings you enjoy, the tempta- 
 tions you have resisted, the calamities you have 
 escaped ; and remember that watchfulness is not only 
 necessary, watchfulness against the evil principle of 
 the human heart, but a constant reliance upon the 
 Great Disposer of human events. Let us forget or 
 disregard our dependence upon the Deity — let us 
 mock at and deride the power unseen, but constantly 
 above and around us, and we will soon wander into 
 the wrong path, hesitate, falter, and fall. 
 

 Jrogttj; ra, % jjtrils of % Jfbt Jfak 
 Step. 
 
 " Most dangerous 
 Is that temptation that doth goad us on." 
 
 "T"¥7"E but a short time since had occasion to com- 
 h ment upon the sad case of several London 
 bankers, who misappropriated funds confided to their 
 keeping, were tried, convicted, and sentenced to trans- 
 portation. A still more melancholy case recently oc- 
 curred, in which a member of the British Parliament, 
 John Sadlier, who for many years was identified with 
 several of the leading monetary enterprises of the city 
 of London, committed suicide under circumstances of 
 the most painful character. He was in the vigor of 
 manhood, when, in consequence of an accumulation of 
 forgeries, life became a burden to him, and he de- 
 stroyed himself by taking poison. He was a bold 
 speculator, and dealt largely in continental railways, 
 mining undertakings and stock movements of various 
 kinds. He was a director in a prominent bank, en- 
 joyed great influence, and was much respected. But 
 in the chances and changes of the monetary world, he 
 become a fearful loser, and in an evil hour was tempted 
 to commit forgery. This first false step was followed 
 by others, until at last he was bankrupt, having not 
 only lost his own private property, which at one time 
 amounted to upward of a million dollars, but involved 
 (402) 
 
FORGERY. 403 
 
 in difficulty many of his friends. The error, in this 
 case, was like that of many others — the first FALSJS 
 step. It is probable that Sadlier, when he realized to 
 their full extent the embarrassments by which he was 
 surrounded, fancied that he could retrieve himself by 
 obtaining a few thousand pounds temporarily, and 
 hence he resorted to forgery. From that moment he 
 hurried on with the wildest desperation, until at last 
 the aggregate of his frauds, in this way, amounted to 
 five millions of dollars. Then it was that the wretched 
 man saw the abyss before him, became terrified at the 
 shame and horror which he had provoked, and unable 
 to confront the stern eye of the law, as well as the 
 hundreds of innocent families, whose ruin he had 
 caused, he chose the death of a suicide, and perished 
 accordingly. The frauds of Sir John Strahan and his 
 partners had scarcely been forgotten, when this new 
 mass of tangled iniquity startled the public mind and 
 the public heart, and appalled, not only the great 
 monetary mart of the British metropolis, but thrilled 
 with anxiety and apprehension every leading Bourse 
 on the European continent. 
 
 It has been observed, " that this case is but another 
 of that kind which has abounded within recent years, 
 in which the criminal at first steps barely over the line 
 which divides right from wrong, and with the intention 
 to hasten back as soon as he has saved himself from 
 the loss of property and reputation. But the act at 
 which he shudders does not save him, and still trem- 
 bling and afraid, he repeats it with the same result. He 
 plays a larger stake of crime, and again he loses ; he 
 cannot retrace his steps without confessing to some 
 one an error for which but a short time before he 
 25 
 
404 FORGfERY. 
 
 would have condemned his brother ; and so onward 
 he goes in a course which presently becomes headlong, 
 and reckless of all consequences except those which 
 follow detection, until finally, tempted by his impunity 
 into courses which lead to inevitable detection, he sees 
 moral annihilation before him, and if he be a man of 
 strong nature, dies ; if feeble, hides himself in miserable 
 obscurity." 
 
 The first false step is the fatal one, in almost every 
 species of crime, and in none more so than that of 
 forgery. The very success, or apparent success, induces 
 confidence and hardihood, and the infatuated wretch 
 moves on, involving himself still more deeply, persuad- 
 ing himself that ail is concealed, deluding himself that 
 he will still escape, and yet adding crime upon crime 
 to the heavy burden that must ultimately overwhelm 
 and destroy him. It should be remembered, too, that 
 high position and abundance of means sometimes pro- 
 duce a degree of false pride that becomes a sort of in- 
 sanity, and leads to habits of expenditure and extrav- 
 agance, from which it is impossible to recede without 
 exposure, loss of credit, the suspicion of lookers-on, 
 and all the deplorable consequences. Only a short 
 time has gone by, since a resident of a neighboring 
 city informed us that he had been ruined by accepting 
 a very lucrative public office. He occupied it but a 
 single year ; and at the expiration of his brief term, he 
 found that he had been living beyond his means, even 
 with his increased revenue, and thus, in the end, had 
 lost his old-fashioned habits of economy, as well as the 
 regular occupation which before had provided him 
 with all the comforts of life. It is indeed more diffi- 
 cult to resist temptation than most persons imagine. 
 
FORGERY. 405 
 
 A change of fortune is not always attended with good. 
 Old habits cannot be interfered with but at great risk. 
 And when, too, an individual once gives way to any 
 unhealthy excitement, whether it be of gambling, of 
 drinking, of extravagance, or of false pride, the perils 
 are fearful. There is, moreover, ever at the elbow of 
 the irresolute and the excited, an evil spirit that 
 prompts some dangerous expedient, with the object 
 alike of misleading and betraying. It is this that 
 should be resisted. It is this subtle demon whose 
 counsel should be disregarded. But in the case of the 
 wretched felon and suicide to whose miserable end we 
 have adverted, he listened to the voice of the tempter, 
 he believed the hollow promises, he relied upon the 
 mocking delusion, and he became a victim ! So sad a 
 tragedy should not be without its moral and its admo- 
 nition. There are few who are not tempted at times. 
 The paths of life are full of shoals and quicksands ; the 
 ways of" trade and commerce are beset with pitfalls ; 
 and in moments of emergency, it requires more than 
 ordinary moral courage to resist and turn away. But 
 there is safety in no other course. Nay, he who hesi- 
 tates is lost. There is but one policy and one path 
 for the Merchant, the Banker, the Attorney — nay, for 
 all who wish well to themselves, and who desire t<? 
 live correctly and die respected. That policy involves 
 the strictest integrity, and that path is direct, truth 
 ful, and characterized by unwavering honesty. 
 2o 
 
JtMffiig. 
 
 " No bribe could make him falter— there he was, 
 Firm and reliable." 
 
 
 WE know of nothing that is more important as 
 as an element of character, than keliability — • 
 and this in small matters as well as in great — in the 
 trifles of life, as well as in its more serious concerns. 
 There is scarcely an individual who pays the least at- 
 tention to human nature and its developments, who 
 looks observingly upon the progress of society, who 
 watches the chances and changes that take place in 
 the fortunes of his friends and neighbors, who will 
 not become impressed with this truth. The reliable 
 man, whether young or old, is a moral jewel; while 
 the unreliable, who never can be depended upon, who 
 is ever at fault, and always behind time, soon becomes 
 a comparative nonentity, and is not only disregarded 
 and distrusted, but is absolutely avoided. This policy, 
 moreover, is essential to self-defence. We allude as 
 well to reliability of speech as reliability of conduct. 
 Who, for example, cannot point out some mistaken, 
 misguided, unfortunate or vicious member of society, 
 who rarely speaks the truth. He has contracted a 
 habit of exaggerating or falsifying, and thus, either 
 in jest, or from a vicious propensity, he seems to de- 
 light in misleading, misrepresenting, and often calum- 
 niating. The result is, that he soon becomes known, 
 and his statements, even when correct, are treated 
 (406) 
 
 

 RELIABILITY. mfp 
 
 with indifference or contempt. He cannot be trusted, 
 for he is not reliable. He is void of that invaluable 
 principle — veracity. This, in the ordinary affairs of 
 the day, and in the movements of the social circle. 
 But how much more serious is such a defect in the 
 graver matters of business, and when transactions of 
 the utmost importance are involved ! Among Mer- 
 chants, Bankers, Attorneys, and Journalists, and in- 
 deed in every responsible or elevated calling, relia- 
 bility is one of the great essentials. 
 
 The individual who makes an engagement is ex- 
 pected to fulfill it. If he stipulate to attend at a cer- 
 tain place at a certain time, he, of course, should be 
 there. If he effect a loan, promising to return it on 
 a designated day, he should tax all his energies to re- 
 deem his obligation, and thus to verify his word and 
 maintain his character. A few transactions of this 
 kind are sufficient, with the cautious and experienced, 
 to enable them to decide upon the integrity, the pro- 
 bity, and the principles of the man. A single failure 
 will, perhaps, be overlooked, especially if a sufficient 
 cause be assigned. But, if the offence be repeated, 
 and then prevarication and falsehood, as is almost in- 
 variably the case, be added, he will thereafter, and 
 naturally enough, be distrusted. Some years since, 
 two citizens of Philadelphia, who had long been on 
 intimate terms, entered into a joint speculation. Each 
 contributed the same amount ; but one undertook to 
 manage the operation from the first to the last. The 
 result was profitable; but it so happened that the 
 manager appropriated to himself a larger share of the 
 gains than was strictly his due. He did so, too, 
 stealthily, and without informing his colleague of the 
 
408 RELIABILITY. 
 
 fact, who became acquainted therewith by the merest 
 accident. He said nothing upon the subject at the 
 time ; but he felt surprise as well as regret. A few 
 months after, another opportunity was presented — an 
 opportunity by which, in all probability, thousands 
 of dollars would have been realized at an inconsider- 
 able risk. But the manager in the former case could 
 not raise the means, and hence he applied to his for- 
 mer friend and colleague. The latter hesitated ; and 
 on being pushed for an explanation, frankly stated 
 that he " had been deceived in the former case, and 
 he could not, and would never rely upon the same 
 individual again." The charm of confidence had been 
 broken. In the first case, the sum involved was a 
 comparative trifle; but still it illustrated the charac- 
 ter and indicated the principle. The petty deceit by 
 which a few dollars were realized, showed that the 
 inducement was sufficient to cause a departure from 
 the strict line of integrity and honor, and hence the 
 inference was plain, that a stronger temptation might 
 lead to a still more direct violation of confidence and 
 trust. And thus it is, that the little things of life in- 
 dicate the reliable and the unreliable, and become, in 
 fact, infallible tests of character. A short time since, 
 a young man made application to a merchant in this 
 city, for a situation that, was then vacant, and he re- 
 ferred to two individuals, his teacher, when a boy, 
 and his first employer immediately after he had fin- 
 ished his education. Both agreed upon one fact, viz. : 
 that in all things the youth was reliable ; that he 
 might be depended upon, both in word and in deed ; 
 that this was his great merit, and with him it was 
 not only a habit, but a principle and a mattei of con- 
 
 
MORAL SUICIDE. 409 
 
 science. The merchant had not before tnought very 
 deeply upon the particular quality of reliability ; but 
 he at once became impressed with its importance, and 
 the applicant was not only accepted, but he soon won 
 for himself the esteem and confidence of his em- 
 ployer. But we could cite numerous illustrations. 
 Reliability is not only a virtue and a grace, but it is 
 one of the essentials of reputation and success. A 
 man may be gifted, accomplished, energetic, and able 
 in many points of view, and yet, if not reliable, he is, 
 comparatively speaking, of little or no value, and in 
 moments of emergency he never will be sought for, 
 or depended upon. In fact, he is nothing more than 
 an unstable trifler, who sports not only with his own 
 character, but with the time, the feelings, and the for- 
 tunes of others 
 
 Pool j&ritito; % Stotral JMitals anh 
 fate Smra. 
 
 "The song, the dance, the midnight hour, 
 With pale Consumption hovering hy." 
 
 A SERIOUS evil of the- times may be referred to, 
 in the manner in which many social parties are 
 conducted in all the great cities of the Union. They 
 commence about nine o'clock in the evening, and con- 
 tinue until two or three in the morning. In the olden 
 time, these late hours were adopted pretty much by 
 the exclusives of fashionable life, or those who had 
 
410 MORAL SUICIDE. 
 
 abundant leisure, and no regular occupation. Their 
 great object was to kill time ; by night as well as by 
 day ; and thus, if they returned to their places of 
 abode, even long after daylight, they could sleep with 
 impunity till mid-day, or even later. But more 
 recently, the system has become almost universal ; and 
 a young man, whose fortune is yet to be made, must 
 do one of two things, either abandon all social festivals 
 of the kind referred to, or neglect his business. The 
 effect upon health is also deleterious. Regular sleep 
 is quite as essential as regular meals. Neither can be 
 dispensed with but at great risk to the physical con- 
 stitution. Nevertheless, not only young men, but fair 
 and fragile females, especially during holiday seasons, 
 remain up, time after time, till long after midnight — 
 often become heated and excited, then rush into the 
 cold air, and perhaps encounter the rigors of a wintry 
 storm. Can we wonder at colds, coughs, consumption, 
 and even death under these circumstances ? Many a 
 fair creature has sacrificed her health, nay, even her 
 life, to the absurdities of fashion, and especially to the 
 exhausting system of midnight social festivals. We 
 say midnight, because they rarely get fully under way 
 before twelve o'clock. Parents, too, are sadly at fault. 
 They see the evil, and they recognize its deplorable 
 effects, but they lack the moral courage to attempt a 
 reform. Fashion is the despot which controls and 
 rules them ; and they dare not run counter to either 
 its follies or its demands. We some days since heard 
 a mother complain bitterly, because her only son did 
 not return home from " a dashing party," as he de- 
 scribed it, until two o'clock in the morning, while, in 
 the very next breath, she announced with a glow of 
 

 
 MORAL SUICIDE. 411 
 
 exultation, that her cherished and only daughter had 
 just been invited to participate in a similar entertain- 
 ment the next evening. She knew that the son was 
 compelled to rise early in order to be at his place of 
 business in time, and she felt that he must suffer for 
 the loss of sleep. And yet she could not, or would 
 not see, that her daughter must, of necessity, be 
 escorted and attended by some other young gentleman, 
 and with like effects upon his mind, body, and habits. 
 It is the system that is wrong ; and we earnestly appeal 
 to some of those who have influence in social life and 
 fashionable society, to attempt a change. If the facts 
 could be ascertained, hundreds of victims would be 
 discovered among both sexes. We are aware that 
 Fashion is a tyrant, and that it is almost impossible 
 to effect any modification in a matter of this kind. 
 But the evils produced are so numerous, and the folly 
 of the system is so glaring, that we indulge a hope 
 that some sensible person or circle, will at last be pre- 
 vailed upon to introduce some amendment. Only 
 yesterday, a friend informed us that several members 
 of his family had recently been invited to attend a 
 musical soiree at the house of a neighbor, and an inti- 
 mation was given at the same time, that it would not 
 commence until nine o'clock ! The result was, that 
 they did not return until long after midnight, and 
 then the festival was only at its height. But there is 
 probably not a citizen in the community who does 
 not recognize this condition of things, and deplore it. 
 He feels the evils in his own household, and in the 
 necessity which it sometimes imposes, in order to re- 
 spond to the courtesies of friends, to follow himself in 
 the wake of others ; and thus he occasionally discovers 
 
412 MOBAL SUICIDE. 
 
 
 that at two or three o'clock in the morning, he is a 
 mile or two from home, after having been subjected 
 for hours to the heated atmosphere of a crowded 
 parlor. Nay, such is the keenness of competition, and 
 the folly of false pride, that many persons who assume 
 to be extremely fashionable, linger until the latest 
 hour before they make their appearance, and thus 
 enter the room at midnight, or when, in fact, the com- 
 pany should be about dispersing. Our bills of mor- 
 tality 'announce, every week, a fearful story. We are 
 told, moreover, by one of our most distinguished 
 physicians, that at least one-half of those who are 
 summoned to their last account, die from diseases that 
 might be avoided by the exercise of even ordinary 
 prudence. But with a climate like ours, with our 
 mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters wearing thin 
 shoes and silk stockings, and exposing their heads in 
 bonnets that are such only in name, is it a matter of 
 surprise that we should see pale faces and attenuated 
 forms, hear so much of neuralgia, and gaze upon so 
 many wrecks of youth and beauty ? Nay, theTe are 
 thousands who every year sacrifice themselves upon 
 the altars of fashion and of folly, and thus in fa . com 
 
 wh MOEAL SUICIDE. 
 
|)asaon ai& Jjwpfob. 
 
 "The rash of speech are often rash of hand." 
 
 * * T7"N0W thyself, 1 ' is the apothegm of an ancient 
 XV. sage. Snch knowledge is indeed important, 
 for there are few who are not afflicted with passions 
 and prejudices, and thus at times cannot control their 
 speech and govern their conduct. The great majority 
 of the errors and crimes that are perpetrated through- 
 out the world, are attributable, in some degree, to 
 temporary excitement. " Madness rules the hour," 
 and its consequences are often fearful. There is, in- 
 deed, scarcely an individual, however calm and well 
 poised in a mental point of view, who at times does 
 not find himself giving way to passion and prejudice, 
 and thus in fact becoming temporarily insane. It is 
 at such moments that all sorts of indiscretions are com- 
 mitted. Harsh expressions are employed, friends are 
 insulted, kindly hearts are lacerated, and feuds are 
 fomented that continue on for years. The sober second 
 thought soon returns, and reason resumes her sway — 
 but then how difficult it is for poor human nature, 
 the creature of selfishness and false pride, to make 
 prompt and ample reparation. The tendency rather 
 is, to excuse the error, and to charge the difference 
 upon the individual injured. Who that looks through 
 society with an intelligent eye and inquiring mind, 
 cannot point out dozens of individuals, who are abso- 
 
 (413) 
 
414 PASSION" AND PREJUDICE. 
 
 lutely consuming themselves by unnecessary excite- 
 ment ! Some are so absorbed in political affairs, that 
 they have no thought for their regular avocations or 
 the ordinary duties of life. They persuade themselves 
 that they have suddenly become of extraordinary im- 
 portance and possess paramount influence, and thus 
 they run from door to door, inculcating their peculiar 
 views, denouncing all who happen to differ from them, 
 and often to the neglect of affairs that are essential to 
 their future prosperity. They are to all intents and 
 purposes monomaniacs, and are mad for the time. 
 They have become so identified with a particular 
 course, that they can see no merit in any other, but 
 on the contrary, believe all to be knaves or fools who 
 hold views or sentiments which are adverse to theirs. 
 But there are various kinds of excitement to which 
 the credulous, the eager, and the impulsive are liable. 
 All more or less abound with peril. Ever and anon 
 some enthusiastic individual fancies that he has made 
 a great discovery in morals, in science, in manufactures 
 or in commerce. Soon all his faculties are absorbed 
 in the one great idea. He devotes his whole existence 
 to it. He can neither think nor talk of any thing else. 
 By day and by night, the dream agitates and perplexes. 
 In one case in a thousand the anticipation is realized ; 
 whereas, in the vast majority, disappointment, vexa- 
 tion, anxiety, and ruin, are the deplorable consequences. 
 It is the theory of a distinguished philosopher, who 
 has paid much attention to the human mind, that " one 
 engrossing idea is always dangerous." It is apt tc 
 disturb the mental equilibrium, and thus to unfit and 
 disqualify the zealous and the enthusiastic, no mattei 
 how gifted, for the ordinary pursuits of life. Thus it 
 
PASSION AND PREJUDICE. 415 
 
 is that so many who are admitted to possess a genius 
 for some particular art or profession, are common- 
 place or worse, in every other phase of human knowl- 
 edge or intellectual research. The one idea has ab- 
 sorbed every other. The one devoted and untiring 
 application has taken away all interest for the common 
 things of life, and thus rendered the zealot a child, 
 comparatively speaking, in the ways of trade, com- 
 merce, business, and the world at large. But scarcely 
 a week goes by, in which we do not behold some sad 
 illustration of the perils of excitement. The individual 
 who is ever ready to adopt any new ism or doctrine 
 that is started, whether in politics or religion, whether 
 as relates to the material or spiritual world — who does 
 not reflect quietly and calmly, but jumps at a conclu- 
 sion, so to speak, and at once becomes a monomaniac 
 upon the subject — is ever in danger of having his 
 mind disturbed, if not destroyed, and of thus being re- 
 duced to a truly lamentable condition. We should 
 endeavor not only to know ourselves, but to govern 
 ourselves. All have passions and prejudices, and all 
 are therefore liable to forget themselves in some 
 moment of temporary excitement. Who, indeed, can- 
 not turn to such cases of forgetfulness ? Who, even 
 among the wisest and best, are not compelled occasion- 
 ally to look back with sorrow and regret upon some 
 incident of their lives, when they became suddenly ex- 
 cited, and said or did that which they must deplore to 
 the end of their days. Alas ! for the wretched victims, 
 who have involved themselves still more deeply in 
 error or guilt, and who, in some hour of excitement, 
 have perpetrated acts, perhaps of bloodshed and of 
 death, and would now give worlds if they possessed 
 
416 THE HAPPY MEDIUM. 
 
 them, fully to atone. Again, therefore, we exclaim, 
 gentle reader — Beware! beware! Excitement is the 
 atmosphere of peril and of crime. 
 
 f% gaps llebhrot 
 
 " Each according to his means." 
 
 WE some days since heard an individual censure 
 another very bitterly, for what he described as 
 a frightful piece of extravagance. It consisted in 
 building an elegant private mansion, at a cost of 
 twenty thousand dollars, and furnishing it at an addi- 
 tional cost of five thousand. Some inquiry was made 
 as to the means of the party found fault with, and they 
 were conceded to amount, in the aggregate, to half a 
 million of dollars, or an annual income of thirty 
 thousand, even at the regular rate of interest. His 
 family, too, is quite small, consisting only of a wife 
 and daughter, the latter yet in her teens. The com- 
 plaint, under the circumstances, struck us as captious 
 and unfounded. Extravagance, according to our idea, 
 consists in expending prodigally, foolishly, recklessly, 
 and beyond our means. If, for example, the individual 
 in question were actively engaged in business, with a 
 limited capital employed in his peculiar avocation, and 
 thus realized merely enough to maintain his family in 
 ease and comfort, the erection of such a modest palace 
 should indeed be regarded as an excess, an act of folly 
 
THE HAPPY MEDIUM. 417 
 
 and imprudence. But his position is one of perfect 
 independence, in a pecuniary point of view, nay, of 
 undoubted affluence. He can live in the style pro- 
 posed, and yet within his income. In building, more- 
 over, he assists in improving the particular neighbor- 
 hood of his proposed place of residence. He gives 
 employment to a number of mechanics and day-labor- 
 ers, and he consumes a large amount of the products 
 of industry. His wealth, therefore, in some sense, 
 becomes a public blessing. It is diffused throughout 
 the community. It encourages and rewards tact, 
 talent, and labor, and it is expended and employed 
 wisely. How much better this plan than that of the 
 narrow, the selfish, and the miserly ! The rich, who 
 are perpetually striving to accumulate a little more, 
 who cling to money as a god, and who part from it 
 with reluctance, even on the verge of the grave, are 
 unworthy recipients of the bounties of Providence. 
 They are faithless stewards. They have prospered, 
 and the results are selfishness and ingratitude. None 
 respect them while living, and few mourn for them 
 when dead. Even their heirs-at-law, from whom they 
 withhold the means of generous livelihood, wait with 
 impatience, and feel relieved when the dread messen- 
 ger of death calls away the avaricious and mercenary 
 spirit. No — the rich are bound to be generous. It 
 is their duty. They should expend their surplus 
 means freely. They should assist and encourage, not 
 only the unfortunate, but the meritorious. They 
 should seek out the children of genius who languish 
 in the shade, and by kindness and patronage warm 
 them into life, and stimulate them into fame. They 
 should not only be grateful to Providence for the 
 
418 THE HAfeY MEDIUM. 
 
 i 
 
 blessings poured upon them with so liberal a hand, 
 but they should appreciate the condition of the equally 
 meritorious, though the less successful of their fellow- 
 creatures. This, we contend, is the policy, nay, the 
 bounden duty of all who have been eminently favored 
 ,by fortune, who have not only enough, but to spare. 
 Economy with such, or rather parsimony, would not 
 only be an error, but a crime. There are, indeed, 
 manv branches of art and manufacture, many trades 
 and professions, that depend wholly or nearly so upon 
 the rich. "What would our painters and sculptors, 
 and the builders and jewellers do, but for this class 
 of the community? How would the Fine Arts 
 flourish, but through their agency ? Where would be 
 our Temples of Music, our Halls of Science, and our 
 Galleries of Taste and Fashion? Nay, many of the 
 most extensive of our merchants and manufacturers 
 have become so, either through the importation or the 
 preparation of what are known as fine goods. The 
 season is at hand, for example, when the affluent 
 among our fellow-citizens are expected to exercise an 
 extraordinary spirit of appreciation and generosity. 
 It is right that they should do so. Such a course 
 should be regarded as any thing but extravagant. 
 But let us not be misunderstood. Economy is a 
 virtue of the highest and most practical character; 
 and the individual who indulges in expenditures be- 
 yond his means, especially to the injury of others, not 
 only commits an error, but perpetrates a dishonesty. 
 The happy medium is, to live within one's income, and 
 if possible, to save something at the end of each year, 
 in the hope of thus gradually accumulating a pecu- 
 niary independence. The poor may be extravagant 
 
 
BEGINNINGS OF CHARACTER. 419 
 
 as well as the rich. And so, indeed, individuals in 
 moderate circumstances. With the affluent it is a 
 duty to assist and encourage industry, art, talent, and 
 merit of every description. Fine furniture, elegant 
 mansions, and costly equipages, are all well enough, 
 if they can be afforded/ Nay, they are commendable 
 under such circumstances. The error, however, with 
 too many is, to attempt more than they can accom- 
 plish ; or, in other words, to act and expend as men 
 of fortune, without, in the first place, realizing or be- 
 coming possessed of a substantial estate, or an ade- 
 quate income. Too many commence life by expend- 
 ing more than they earn, and then complain when 
 they find themselves behindhand. " Cut your coat 
 according to your cloth" is a common-place axiom, 
 but it is full of worldly wisdom. 
 
 legtmtwp of Cjjaraxta:, 
 
 IT not unfrequently happens that young men dam- 
 age themselves for life, or at least for many years, 
 by what to them appear as trifling or unimportant 
 errors. They violate the truth, form reckless associa- 
 tions, and neglect positive engagements. Thus, at the 
 very beginning, they impair confluence, excite sus- 
 picion, and create distrust. Character is a jewel of 
 priceless value, and yet it is easily impaired or tarnished. 
 The young, generally speaking, do not appreciate its 
 importance, because they lack experience, and know 
 2G 
 
420 BEGINNINGS OF CHARACTER. 
 
 but kittle of the world and its severity. An individual, 
 for example, who is in the habit of repeating all sorts 
 of wild and improbable stories, who boasts, exults, and 
 magnifies, is at first looked upon with surprise and 
 caution by the intelligent and discerning, and then, 
 detected in some monstrous fabrication, he is distrusted 
 and avoided. Thus, in an effort to appear what he is 
 not, and to occupy a position to which he is not entitled, 
 he destroys his character, and loses friends who other- 
 wise would prove useful to him. 
 
 The young and indiscreet do not appreciate the 
 realities of life, but permit fancy and folly to mislead 
 them ; they do not remember that character is, to a cer- 
 tain extent, like an edifice that is intended not for a 
 day or an hour, but for years, and hence its founda- 
 tions should be of the best material. The advanced in 
 life are, perhaps, too severe and too critical. ' They do 
 not make sufficient allowance for the indiscretion, and 
 the impulses of youth. Hence they are often disposed 
 to consider as vices what are in fact merely foibles — 
 foibles, too, which might readily be modified and 
 amended if not wholly cured. When, however, the 
 habit of exaggeration and falsehood becomes so fixed 
 that it forms a feature of character — when engagements 
 are made, pecuniary or otherwise, without any inten- 
 tion of fulfilling them, the reputation soon becomes 
 damaged to so serious an extent, that it can never be 
 redeemed or re-established. 
 
 Not a few individuals among the young indulge in 
 the error, that by extravagance of speech, recklessness 
 of sentiment, and insolence of manners, they make them- 
 selves important, and excite envy and astonishment. 
 The mistake is a fearful one. The only feelings pro- 
 
 
BEGINNINGS OF CHARACTER 421 
 
 duced among the sensible and observing are those of 
 pity and contempt. If, in brief, a statement cannot be 
 relied upon, because of the known habit of the person 
 who makes it, to falsify and exaggerate — thereafter 
 his career in life and society will be disreputable and 
 downward, and at the most rapid rate. The beginnings 
 of character cannot be too carefully attended to. Temp- 
 tations beset the young on all sides. In the first 
 place, they have to resist their own evil passions and 
 weaknesses, as well as their inexperience ; and in the 
 second, the evil associations with which society 
 abounds, and the many allurements which pleasure and 
 profligacy hold out. This is especially the case in 
 great cities. The chief peril may be said to exist 
 within the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. It is at 
 that period that the character and the reputation are 
 more fully developed than at any other. The habits 
 then become fixed — the tone of the mind settled — the 
 disposition regulated. But if a false step be taken and 
 a false system be adopted, it will be difficult, nay, almost 
 impossible to recover in after life. 
 
 Only a short time since, a young man paid a visit 
 to a neighboring city, as well for relaxation as for 
 pleasure, Before he left the place of his abode, his 
 standing was every way creditable. He had grown 
 up under the eyes of watchful parents, had received 
 a good education, possessed a fine mind, and was 
 addicted to no vice. It so happened, that on the way 
 he formed an acquaintance with a dashing man of 
 the world as he described himself, who, in fact, was 
 nothing more than a polished sharper and gambler. 
 The youth was led on from step to step, until all his 
 funds were exhausted, and he was compelled to write 
 26 
 
422 BEGINNINGS OF CHARACTER. 
 
 home to his parents for a sufficient sum to pay his 
 hotel bill and passage back. Meantime he had been 
 seen in one of the streets of New York partially 
 intoxicated. Fortunately, he was recalled to a sense 
 of propriety in time, but not before his character had 
 received a shock, from the effects of which it took 
 months of good conduct to recover. Naturally kind 
 of heart and correct of deportment, he intended noth- 
 ing of the sort, but was led on gradually by an evil 
 associate. How many are ruined in a similar manner ! 
 How many forget the little proprieties of life, commit 
 some excess, and then discover to their mortification 
 and shame, that they have disgraced themselves. The 
 young cannot be too watchful. They cannot guard 
 too vigilantly against bad habits and evil associations. 
 They cannot be too careful to protect themselves from 
 the vice of falsehood. Character, to many of them, is 
 all they possess ; it is the only inheritance that has 
 been left to them by their parents, and it should be 
 cherished accordingly. No young man, who has a 
 just sense of his own value, will trifle with his rep- 
 utation. It should be as precious to him as the breath 
 of his nostrils. But like the down of the peach, or the 
 fragrance of the rose, when once gone it can never be 
 replaced. According to the poet, " all's well that ends 
 well ;" but there is seldom a good end that has not a 
 good beginning. 
 
%\t Jiitcfclebge of (feperieno. 
 
 1 Experience, joined with, common sense, 
 To mortals is a providence." 
 
 ' He studied from the life, 
 And in the original perused mankind." 
 
 ACCOKDHSTG- to an ancient sage, " man only begins 
 to appreciate the finite nature of his faculties, 
 and the limited extent of his knowledge, when he 
 totters on the verge of the grave." This is not very- 
 flattering to our vanity ; but it is true, nevertheless, 
 in a general and comprehensive sense. The young, 
 especially if quick of thought, vivid of imagination, 
 and ready of speech, are apt to fancy themselves supe- 
 rior beings, and to suppose that they possess a degree 
 of information every way adequate to discharge all the 
 duties of life. Nevertheless, they have little or no 
 knowledge by experience, and are thus, in fact, igno- 
 rant of the springs and motives of human action, and 
 of the thousand chances and changes which influence 
 and control the events of human progress. They have, 
 for the most part, no adequate idea of character and 
 its value, of truth and its importance, and of integrity 
 as a general rule of conduct. Of course there are 
 exceptions, but they are rare. The young jump at 
 conclusions. They do not pause to reflect. They 
 have no antecedents as landmarks and guides, and 
 they depend rather upon the imagination than the 
 judgment. Thus they hasten on in any path that 
 
 (423) 
 
424 THE KNOWLEDGE OF EXPERIENCE. 
 
 has a fair and promising beginning, believe any story 
 however preposterous, suppose that the friendships of 
 the clay are to be perpetual, and only discover their 
 error when they have been taught by the sad lessons 
 of experience. Knowledge thus obtained is seldom 
 forgot 1 ", 3n. It affects the individual, not only for a 
 moment, but for all time to come. It enters into his 
 heart, mind, and memory, and forms part of his char- 
 acter. He soon discovers, after having lived a few 
 years beyond the borders of youth, that his judgment 
 is only beginning to ripen ; that his intellectual facul- 
 ties have heretofore been in the germ, and that instead 
 of being one of the wise ones of the earth, his 
 opinions are crude and imperfect, and his information 
 narrow, circumscribed, and unreliable. It is then 
 that he begins to examine himself, to look round and 
 investigate the various phases of society, to correct the 
 errors in which he has so long indulged, and to realize 
 the knowledge of experience. The world at once 
 assumes a different aspect. The multitudes who con- 
 stitute society are analyzed and measured. The wild, 
 the reckless, and the indiscreet, are distinguished from 
 the calm, the moderate, the prudent, and the reason- 
 able, and causes are at once discovered why the former 
 so often fail, and the latter so generally succeed. 
 Many little incidents in earlier years are turned to 
 and scanned with an inquiring eye, and then the folly, 
 the self-conceit, the presumption, and the mistaken 
 eagerness of that inexperienced period, are recognized 
 and regretted. It is seen that then we acted compara- 
 tively in the dark, that our mental eyes were but 
 imperfectly opened, that fancy, and passion, and im- 
 pulse ruled the hour, and that hence many and terrible 
 
 
 
THE KNOWLEDGE OF EXPERIENCE. 425 
 
 mistakes were committed. Some of these, it may be, 
 cannot be corrected, but others can, and they should 
 be, with as little delay as possible. And thus life 
 glides on, every year adding to our experience, and 
 convincing us that we are finite beings, with limited 
 faculties, and that even the wisest are full of error, 
 passion, prejudice, and imperfection. But alas! for 
 the misguided, self-conceited, and dogmatic, who, 
 despite the lights of experience, persist in error, who 
 will take nothing back, will make no acknowledgment, 
 offer no reconciliation, admit no penitence, and accord 
 no reparation. To live after this fashion, and in this 
 spirit, is indeed to live in vain. There is not an 
 individual of the millions who inhabit the earth at 
 this moment, who is not occasionally guilty of error 
 and indiscretion. It is the lot of human nature. All 
 are imperfect. All are creatures of the dust. But as 
 our minds ripen, and we become experienced in the 
 ways of the world, we should govern ourselves accord- 
 ingly, and not only recognize our own infirmities, but 
 be indulgent to those of others. The young are, of 
 course, passionate and impulsive, and they often speak 
 and act rashly. Let them be adjudged, therefore, in a 
 generous and merciful spirit. Time, the great chas- 
 tener, will subdue and soften, while experience will 
 teach lessons that can never be forgotten. When, too, 
 we cannot depend upon ourselves, and feel that we are 
 novices in any particular sphere, calling, or province, 
 let us appeal to, and rely upon, the knowledge and 
 experience of others. Such, especially, is the duty of 
 the young. They cannot be supposed to understand 
 human nature and the world as well as their seniors, 
 and if they venture to act upon fancy and presump- 
 
426 FAME AND FORTUNE. 
 
 tion, rather than upon mature judgment and the sober 
 realities of life, the chances are a thousand to one that 
 they will repent their conduct in sackcloth and ashes. 
 Experience is often a severe, but it is ever a truthful 
 and reliable teacher. 
 
 Jante anb dorhrae; or, #tefclimg % 
 
 ci* 
 
 ' ' With carious art, the brain too finely wrought, 
 Preys od itself, and is destroy 'd by thought." 
 
 THE case of Hugh Miller, the celebrated geologist, 
 who recently committed suicide, is well calcu- 
 lated to excite feelings of the deepest sorrow. His 
 fate was truly a sad one. He possessed an extraordi- 
 nary mind ; but gifted and capable as it was, he over- 
 strained and over-tasked it, became insane for the 
 moment, and committed the fatal act which hurried 
 him into- eternity. He left behind him a brief letter 
 to his wife, in which he said that u his brain was on 
 fire," and that " a fearful dream was upon him." Fear- 
 ful, indeed, for it maddened and induced him to place 
 a pistol to his own breast. It appears that he had 
 long been engaged on an elaborate work, entitled 
 11 The Testimony of the Eocks." At this he had 
 labored for days and months, and sometimes, indeed, 
 until long after midnight. Thus, at last, his intellect 
 gave evidence of disorder ; he became the prey of 
 
FAME AND FOKTUNE. 427 
 
 strange fears, and fancied that his faculties were fail- 
 ing him. It is stated that a few weeks before his 
 death, the light was seen to glimmer through his 
 window at an early hour in the morning, and that 
 his untiring labor began to tell upon his mental 
 health. "He had always been somewhat moodily 
 apprehensive of being attacked by footpads, and had 
 carried loaded firearms about his person. Latterly, 
 having occasion sometimes to return to Portobello 
 from Edinburgh, at unseasonable hours, he had fur- 
 nished himself with a revolver. But now, to all his 
 old fears as to attacks upon his person, there was 
 added an exciting and overmastering impression that 
 his house, and especially that museum, the fruit of 
 so much care, which was contained in a separate 
 outer building, were exposed to the assaults of burg- 
 lars. He read all the recent stories of house robber- 
 ries. He believed that one night lately, an actual at- 
 tempt to break in upon his museum had been made. 
 Visions of ticket-of-leave men, prowling about his 
 premises, haunted him by day and by night. The 
 revolver, which lay nightly near him, was not enough. 
 A broad-bladed dagger was kept beside it, while be- 
 hind him, at his bed-head, a claymore stood ready at 
 hand. About a week before his fatal end, a new and 
 more aggravated feature of cerebral disorder showed 
 itself in sudden and singular sensations in his head. 
 They came on only after lengthened intervals. They 
 did not last long, but were intensely violent. The 
 terrible idea that his brain was deeply and hopelessly 
 diseased, that his mind was on the verge of ruin, took 
 hold of him, and stood out before his eye in all that 
 appalling magnitude in which such an imagination as 
 
428 FAME AND FORTUNE. 
 
 his alone could picture it." And thus, at last, he 
 corrected some proofs of his last volume, went to his 
 chamber and took a bath, and then, no doubt, tor- 
 tured, bewildered, and agonized by the horrid imagin- 
 ings that had so lately beset him, he seized a loaded 
 revolver, placed it to his breast, and was, in the twink- 
 ling of an eye, as it were, in another world ! 
 
 These facts, while painfully interesting, are well 
 calculated to admonish. The human mind is a won- 
 derful essence or faculty, and capable of extraordinary 
 results, but at the same time it is one of the most 
 delicate organizations, and readily disturbed, un- 
 hinged, and deranged. It must not be trifled with — • 
 it must not be over-tasked. All that is mortal is 
 fallible, and nothing more so than the intellect. " Thus 
 far" are we permitted to wander in our dreams and 
 aspirations, " but no further." Thus much are we 
 permitted to accomplish, and then, or thereafter, we 
 proceed at a fearful peril. There are, moreover, more 
 mental disorders than the thoughtless and superficial 
 are apt to imagine. Not a few bodily diseases depend 
 materially, if not wholly, upon the mind. The one 
 greatly affects and influences the other. Man is a 
 compound being, and the union of body and soul, of 
 the physical and mental, is so singular as to be at 
 once mysterious and incomprehensible. Nevertheless, 
 there are hundreds, nay thousands, even among our 
 own population, who are constantly overtasking them- 
 selves in a mental point of view, and who are thus 
 rushing to the grave. The absorbing idea with the 
 multitude, is fortune. To attain it, they will sacrifice 
 almost any thing. And when this passion becomes a 
 leading and controlling one, it engrosses all the ener- 
 
FAME AND FORTUNE. 429 
 
 gies, all the faculties, all the hopes of this world, and 
 often endangers those of the next. In the case of the 
 fated geologist, fame, or a desire to astonish and ex- 
 cite the admiration of mankind, was, perhaps, the 
 ruling passion. An exalted reputation had been se- 
 cured, and the ambition was to enhance it, and render 
 it still more dazzling. But alas, for the penalty ! It 
 amounted to madness in the first case, and then to 
 suicide. And thus, one of the wise ones of the earth, 
 one who had astonished his fellow-men by the extent 
 of his researches,, the clearness of his reasonings, and 
 the beauty of his scientific illustrations, attempted too 
 much, ventured too far, overtasked his faculties, and 
 died by his own hand ! His, moreover, was an object 
 intended for the common good. He endeavored to 
 elucidate one of the deepest branches of modern 
 science, and for the benefit of mankind at large. But 
 there are many who pursue the same error of over 
 effort, and with a spirit every way selfish and mercen- 
 ary. They are worshipers of Mammon. They dedicate 
 their energies to the god of gold. Life, they seem 
 to think, has but one object — that of accumulation. 
 Thus they toil on by night and by day, and become 
 prematurely old and prematurely gray. They cannot 
 pause to think. They have no time for recreation. They 
 never get enough. Well and forcibly has it been ob- 
 served in relation to all such, that " while the pursuit 
 of wealth is in itself legitimate, it was never intended 
 that we should concentrate to it exclusively all our fac- 
 ulties. A fair portion of our time should be devoted 
 to exercise, relaxation, and intellectual improvement. 
 Without that, man is reduced to the condition of a mere 
 animal drudge, on a level with the brute creation. It is 
 
430 HOME AND ITS HARMONIES. 
 
 only by the proper exercise and cultivation of our in- 
 tellectual and physical faculties, that we can hope to 
 keep them in vigor, and thus fulfill the purposes' for 
 which the Almighty has bestowed them upon us. 
 
 Jomt rah its pmnonfo. 
 
 "Affection, kindness, the sweet offices 
 Of love and duty, are to all as needful 
 As our daily bread." 
 
 IN one of the most popular comedies of the day, an 
 effort is made to depict the horrors of a cold, cheer- 
 less, and heartless home — a home in name only; in 
 brief, one that repels rather than attracts. We fear 
 that there are many such within the limits of every 
 great city — many domestic and family circles in which 
 the demon of discord, or the foul fiend of an evil 
 temper, is the presiding spirit — and thus, scenes of 
 agitation and of anger are of constant occurrence. Is 
 it a matter of surprise that the young and light 
 hearted shrink and turn away ; that they escape when- 
 ever they can — and that even the older members often 
 seek some excuse for absence ? Alas ! for the poor 
 wretch who is compelled to go through his daily round 
 of toil in the out-door world — whether at the desk or 
 in the highway — whether as the president or the run- 
 ner of some leading establishment — who, on returning 
 to bis hearth and household, trembles with apprehen- 
 sion at " a scene," and from a consciousness that an 
 
HOME AND ITS HARMONIES. 431 
 
 evil spirit — a jealous, a harsh, an unreasonable, or an 
 exacting, presides there! That his welcome, instead 
 of being kindly and affectionate, generous and cordial, 
 is likely to prove cold and repulsive — severe and 
 captious I And yet these temples of domestic disquiet 
 are by no means rare. 
 
 Forbearance and appreciation are priceless vir- 
 tues—while CONFIDENCE and GOOD- WILL, COURTESY 
 and kindness cannot be too sedulously cultivated with 
 friends and relatives, and especially among members 
 of the same household. It is, we concede, difficult at 
 all times, and under all circumstances, to be cheerful 
 and good-natured. The business world has its claims 
 and anxieties, and all. are liable to private griefs. We 
 may, moreover, experience some sudden disaster — be 
 attacked by some painful malady — be annoyed by 
 some falsehood or treachery, and hence feel depression 
 of mind and irritation of disposition. And thus, while 
 in a thoughtful and melancholy mood, how chilling is 
 harshness, and how refreshing and soothing are gentle- 
 ness, kindness, courtesy and affection, especially from 
 those with whom we are pledged to associate and 
 mingle from day to day. And if, on the other hand, 
 we enjoy an exemption from the misfortunes and dis- 
 advantages to which we have referred, how bound are 
 we by generosity and by duty, to imagine that such 
 troubles may afflict others who may seem to us less 
 cheerful than they might be ; and how, therefore, in- 
 cumbent upon us is it, to extend to them the same 
 degree of support which would be so well appreciated 
 by us under similar circumstances. There is nothing 
 like kindness in the world. It is the very principle 
 of V r e — an emanation of the heart which softens and 
 
432 HOME AND ITS HARMONIES. 
 
 gladdens, and should be inculcated and encouraged in 
 all our intercourse with our fellow- beings. It is im- 
 possible to resist continued kindness. We may in a 
 moment of petulance or passion, manifest coldness to 
 the exhibition of good- will on the part of a new ac- 
 quaintance. But let him persist — let him continue to 
 prove himself really benevolent of heart, generously 
 and kindly disposed, and we will find our stubborn 
 nature giving way, even unconsciously to ourselves. 
 If this be the result of kindness among comparative 
 strangers, how much more certain and delightful will 
 be the exercise of the feelings at home, within the 
 charmed circle of friends and relatives! Home en- 
 joyments, home affections, home courtesies, cannot be 
 too carefully or steadily cultivated. They form the 
 sunshine of the heart. They bless and sanctify our 
 private circle. They become a source of calm delight 
 to the man of business after a day of toil — they teach 
 the merchant, the trader, the working-man, that there 
 is something purer, more precious, even than the gains 
 of industry. They twine themselves round the heart, 
 call forth its best and purest emotions and resources, 
 enable us to be more virtuous, more upright, more 
 Christian, in all our relations of life. We see in the 
 little beings around us the elements of gentleness, of 
 truth, and the beauty of fidelity and religion. A day 
 of toil is robbed of many of its cares, by the thought 
 that in the evening we may return home, and mingle 
 with the family household. There, at least, our ex- 
 perience teaches us, we may find confiding and loving 
 bosoms, those who look up to and lean upon us, and 
 those also to whom we may look for counsel and en- 
 couragement. We say to our friends, one and all, 
 
HAVE YOU MALE YOUE WILL? 433 
 
 cultivate the home virtues, the household beauties of 
 existence. Endeavor to make the little circle of 
 domestic life, a cheerful, an intelligent, a kindly and 
 a happy one. Whatever may go wrong in the world 
 of trade, however arduous may be the struggle for 
 fortune or fame, let nothing mar the purity of recip- 
 rocal love, or throw into its harmonious existence the 
 apple of discord. The winter evenings afford many 
 hours for reading, for conversation, the communion 
 of heart and spirit, and such hours should be devoted 
 as much as possible not only to mental and moral im- 
 provement, but to the cultivation of what may em- 
 phatically be termed the home virtues! 
 
 flak pa mabe grar Mill? 
 
 "Be wise to-day." 
 
 THERE are hundreds of individuals who, with 
 large fortunes, and advanced in years, neverthe- 
 less hesitate to make, by will, a proper distribution of 
 their estates. They postpone from day to day, and 
 from year to year, until at last sickness prostrates and 
 death paralyzes, and thus the law is compelled to play 
 its part. A few weeks since, a young gentleman from 
 the South arrived in this city, who only a year before 
 had attained his majority, and at that time became 
 possessed of a large property. He was seized with 
 sudden illness, when a physician was called in, who 
 
434 HAVE YOG MADE YOUE WILL? 
 
 . 
 
 announced, to the surprise of the few friends in 
 attendance, that his patient could not live forty-eight 
 hours. The young man was incredulous, but at last, 
 through earnest solicitation, was prevailed upon to 
 make his will, in which he gave a large portion of his 
 property to his mother. A few hours after he died, 
 and but for the will alluded to, his estate would have 
 gone to distant relatives, and his mother would have 
 been left comparatively poor. 
 
 On another occasion, not lorig since, a citizen of 
 Philadelphia, whose fortune amounted to nearly a 
 quarter of a million of dollars, sent for an attorney 
 and desired him to sketch out a will. The request 
 was complied with, and bequests were made to various 
 benevolent societies to the extent of one hundred 
 thousand dollars. The rich man, however, was not 
 quite satisfied, and thus he concluded to postpone the 
 final act of his signature in the presence of witnesses, 
 until some future day. This postponement was ex- 
 tended from time to time, until at last Death became 
 impatient, struck a sudden blow, and the will was left 
 unfinished. Thus, the good intentions and benevolent 
 purposes that the intended testator had cherished for 
 years, failed of being carried into effect, in consequence 
 of hesitation and delay. 
 
 At this moment how many are pursuing a similar 
 course ! How many have resolved to make some 
 provision by will for a particular friend, a cherished 
 relative, or a meritorious charity, but neglect to dis- 
 charge the duty ! They mean to do it, honestly and 
 conscientiously, but they prevaricate with themselves, 
 if we may be allowed the expression; or foolishly 
 fancy that the making of a w'll involves the short 
 
HAVE YOU MADE YOUR WILL? 435 
 
 ening of a life. In brief, they are superstitious, and 
 thus they are weak and irresolute. In other cases, a 
 strange infirmity exists against the distribution of 
 property, even by will. The feeling of avarice is so 
 powerful, that the possessor persuades himself that he 
 can retain his grasp upon his gold, even after the 
 vital spark shall have parted from his frame. There 
 is scarcely one individual in a thousand possessed of 
 large means, or even of any considerable property, 
 who would not rather have his estate, real and per- 
 sonal, divided, on his decease, in a peculiar way. 
 Heavy obligations that have been accumulating for 
 life, may be thus canceled or requited. Old friends 
 may be remembered, .early kindnesses may be recip- 
 rocated, and priceless debts of feeling and affection 
 may be acknowledged. The merest trifle, too, solemnly 
 appropriated under such circumstances, has a meaning 
 and a magic, and the gift that is received after the 
 giver is cold and still in the embrace of Death, speaks 
 with a soul- like, solemn voice, and as if from the 
 depths of the grave itself. "He still remembered 
 me I" is the natural exclamation. " I still held a place 
 in his friendship, his affections, and his heart. He 
 was apparently cold and indifferent when alive ; and 
 yet, when he came to make his will, my image arose 
 to the eye of his mind, and my name was recorded 
 among the beings of his love." This is the language 
 which is apt to be uttered under the circumstances we 
 have described. How important, then, the solemn 
 duty of defining, by will, the manner in which our 
 property shall be distributed, when life shall be no 
 longer. Alas ! for the many whose just expectations 
 have been disappointed, whose fidelity and kindness 
 2T 
 
436 THE RULE OF LOVE. 
 
 have been unrewarded, whose hearts have been crushed 
 by some sad neglect on the part of a parent, a relative, 
 a guardian, or a friend. The courts of law abound 
 with melancholy illustrations. Cruel wrongs have 
 been perpetrated, property has been misappropriated, 
 and life-long friends, whose condition might have been 
 so greatly improved, have been left to languish in 
 privation, want, and beggary. And yet, we repeat, 
 there are thousands at this moment who have ample 
 fortunes at their command, and who still neglect the 
 sacred, the solemn, the imperative duty of making a 
 will. In such a momentous matter, delay is indeed 
 dangerous, for Death is no respecter of persons, but 
 often steals upon his victims like a thief in the night I 
 
 <% JUk of lok anb i\t gjtole rf Jfear. 
 
 "To mould the soul and form the moral man." 
 
 IT is extremely difficult to point out the best man- 
 ner of training up the young. The kindest of pa- 
 rents, the wisest of guardians, are sometimes sadly 
 perplexed. The old adage, " Spare the rod and spoil 
 the child," is voted as obsolete by most persons of the 
 present day and generation. The rule of love is 
 regarded as far more potent, in a general sense, than 
 the rule of fear. This is on the principle that persua- 
 sion is better than harshness, reasoning better than 
 blows. And yet we are told by some of the most 
 experienced teachers, men who are not only clear of 
 
THE RULE OF LOVE. 437 
 
 head but benevolent in heart, that there are excep- 
 tions, and that, in some cases, the most rigid, the most 
 rigorous policy, is necessary. This is perhaps true. 
 There are few rules to which there are not exceptions. 
 There are few systems that must not be varied at 
 times, and although, in the great majority of cases, a 
 gentle reproof, a kindly rebuke, a persuasive appeal, 
 will have far more effect than severe censure or 
 physical punishment — there may be, and there doubt- 
 less are, instances where the latter course is necessary. 
 The modern philosophy, generally speaking, is that of 
 kindness and gentleness. We should win the respect 
 of our children, secure their confidence and deserve 
 their love, and thus obtain an influence and a power 
 over them that are almost invincible. But how shall 
 this best be accomplished? How, if defective our* 
 selves, either in temper or in mind, shall we so impress 
 character, manners, and morals, upon the plastic na- 
 ture of our offspring, as to render them obedient, 
 affectionate, dutiful, and faithful to all their obliga- 
 tions ? How, if we be peevish and fretful, if we give 
 way to the bursts of passion and the madness of preju- 
 dice, can we look for truth, sincerity, and affability in 
 the creatures of our example ? How, if we meet them 
 with reproaches, rebukes, and domestic despotism, can 
 we inspire, frankness, sincerity, confidence, and love? 
 These questions cover the whole ground. They define 
 the relative duties between parent and child. The 
 young are naturally imitative, and therefore, to them, 
 example is every thing. Let us not be misunderstood. 
 Let it not be supposed for a moment that we advocate 
 the doctrine that children are naturally perfect, and 
 that they require no watchfulness,, no vigilance, no 
 27 
 
438 THE RULE OF LOVE. 
 
 restraint. It is exactly otherwise. They must be 
 taught first by example, and then controlled and 
 restrained by the means best suited to their particular 
 dispositions. In the great majority of cases, as already 
 observed, by the gentleness of persuasion, the influence 
 of love, and the power of reason. But when these will 
 not avail, and are wholly disregarded, some more 
 vigorous policy will be found absolutely necessary. 
 It seems to us that the great error and its bitter fruits 
 are to be found in the two extremes — over-indulgence 
 in the one case, and excessive harshness in the other. 
 In the first the child is permitted to grow up, reck- 
 less, vicious, and disobedient, because of the want of 
 proper restraints, and in the last he is rendered hypo- 
 critical, revengeful, and malignant, in consequence of 
 the domestic despotism of home. In the one case he 
 is petted and spoiled, his errors are described as vir- 
 tues, his forwardness as smartness, bis pertness as readi- 
 ness and wit, and thus he is absolutely taught to be 
 insulting, disobedient, and insolent. In the other, he 
 is indirectly encouraged to become distrustful, watch- 
 ful, deceitful, and all through the rule of fear, and to 
 escape severe penalties for trivial errors at home. 
 The proper policy lies between these two extremes. 
 Children should be regarded as children, and treated 
 as such. It is unfair and unnatural to expect in them 
 the care, the gravity, the decorum, and the knowledge 
 that can only be acquired by age, experience, and 
 proper training; and while allowance is made for 
 youth and its indiscretions, while the errors and in- 
 firmities are pointed out and corrected, the other folly 
 should be carefully avoided of commending when a 
 rebuke is necessary, and applauding when a nod of 
 
THE RULE OF LOVE. 439 
 
 dissent or a word of reproof would be far more appro- 
 priate. And jet, after all, it is much easier to incul- 
 cate a doctrine in this connection than to practice it, 
 "We have known instances in which the kindest of 
 parents, the most watchful, the most generous, and yet 
 the most observing, have been sadly unfortunate in 
 their children. They have resorted to every means, 
 and in vain. They have adopted first one policy and 
 then another, and only to be still further perplexed. 
 At this moment, how many families in Philadelphia 
 are pained to the very heart by the reckless and 
 profligate conduct of one of their members, one, too, 
 perhaps, who may possess many generous qualities, 
 who may have had lavished upon him every tender- 
 ness, expense, and care, and who yet, from evil asso- 
 ciates, vicious habits, or an ungovernable temper, may 
 be the constant source of anxiety and anguish ! Still, 
 even with such, kindness is perhaps the best policy, 
 for sooner or later, unless the heart be hard as ada- 
 mant, and the principles base beyond redemption, it 
 will eventually exercise its magic influence. This 
 kindness should not, however, be indiscriminate, im- 
 provident, and unassociated with gentle rebukes, mild 
 appeals, and salutary restraints. It should be remem- 
 bered that none are hopeless, and that there are times, 
 seasons, and circumstances, when conviction flashes 
 upon the mind, and with it a determination to amend, 
 reform, and pursue the better and brighter way. Such 
 a time, such a season, should be constantly sought for. 
 There are prodigals in all ages and countries, and the 
 touching parable of Holy Writ should never be lost 
 sight of, nor its sublime yet gentle lesson of mercy 
 and forgiveness ever be disregarded. 
 
%\t Siting nnir % §raK-41[)2 fflsiptt 
 % duties of §mkka? 
 
 TWO cases have recently been mentioned to us, 
 which deserve to be alluded to by way of example. 
 In one, a LADY was left a very large fortune by her 
 husband, and the will included liberal legacies to 
 various benevolent objects, that were to be paid after 
 the death of the widow. But she, aged, infirm, and 
 with abundant means, desired to participate directly 
 in the kindly spirit of her husband, and thus she paid 
 over the money while alive, and enjoyed the happiness 
 of seeing it expended judiciously and with advantage. 
 In the other, a LADY was left a large fortune by her 
 husband — far more than she could expend — and feel- 
 ing that she might yet live many years, she sought 
 out and undertook the care of several orphans, and is 
 now engaged in the generous work of bringing them 
 up, educating and fitting them for useful positions in 
 life. She thus has created a new source of interest in 
 existence, and the evening of her life is softened and 
 brightened by the discharge of a self-assumed mission, 
 which is at once generous and humane. Conduct of 
 this kind cannot be too warmly commended. 
 
 The policy, too, of distributing surplus means before 
 
 death, and of thus overlooking, to some extent, the 
 
 manner of expenditure, should be more generally 
 
 adopted by the affluent. Why postpone until to-mor- 
 
 (440) 
 
THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 441 
 
 row, that which may be done so much better to day ? 
 Why confide to other hands, a work of duty that 
 might be discharged so much better by our own ? Why 
 tempt the cupidity of heirs, the litigation of lawyers, 
 and the many misapprehensions which almost invari- 
 ably attend the distribution of property among stran- 
 gers ? If, for example, Stephen Girard had, while 
 alive, superintended the erection of his College for 
 Orphans, how much money would have been saved, 
 and what a source of consolation would have been af- 
 forded to him by an occasional visit to the institution, 
 and the gradual but beautiful development of the 
 minds and hearts of the pupils ? Nay, his life would, 
 in all probability, have been lengthened many years 
 by such a course. The old fountains of feeling would 
 have been freshened and replenished. A new interest 
 would have been excited in the affairs of the world, 
 and the mental as well as the physical man would 
 have improved. At least we may so infer from the 
 experience of others. The following passage from the 
 " Diary of the late Amos Lawrence," is apposite in this 
 connection, and embodies a lesson that deserves 
 thoughtful consideration : — 
 
 "I have been extensively engaged in business 
 during the last two years, and have added much to 
 my worldly possessions ; but have come to the same 
 conclusion in regard to them that I did in 1818. I 
 feel distressed in mind that the resolutions then made 
 have not been more effectual in keeping me from this 
 overengagedness in business. * * * Property ac- 
 quired at such sacrifices as I have been obliged to 
 make the past year, costs me more than its worth, 
 and the anxiety of protecting it is the extreme of 
 folly." 
 
442 THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. 
 
 How many are at this moment ovekengaged in 
 business ! flow many are, in fact, committing moral 
 suicide by taxing their energies unnecessarily. How 
 many are acquiring property at more cost than it is 
 worth, deepening and increasing their daily toils and 
 anxieties, with the grave but a few years in advance 
 before them ? Their children, too, are impatient, and 
 almost cherish a hope that Death will hasten his foot- 
 steps, and thus afford them an opportunity of clutching 
 a portion of the treasure that is hoarded with such a 
 grasping and miserly tenacity. But with regard to 
 Amos Lawrence, he distributed thousands and tens of 
 thousands while he was alive ! And yet it will be 
 seen by the language we have quoted, that he could 
 not disengage himself from business, and that while 
 he admitted that the wear and tear of mind incident to 
 the most successful pursuits of trade and manufacture, 
 involved a far greater sacrifice than any amount of 
 profit he should realize, he still kept on ! There are 
 hundreds at this moment pursuing a course equally 
 unwise; but, unlike him, the majority refuse to dis- 
 tribute their surplus means while alive, but have deter- 
 mined to confide the discharge of certain acts of charity 
 to those who may come after them ! An error — a sad 
 error in many points of view ! There is a bound to 
 human life, and it rarely extends beyond three-score- 
 and-ten. Why, therefore, after having accumulated 
 " enough and to spare" — enough for ourselves and our 
 children, should we go on straggling, striving and 
 exhausting the little energy that is left us, if, at the 
 same time, we intend to make various generous and 
 benevolent bequests, in our last will and testament ? 
 Why not discharge the duty now? Why not give 
 
THE MORAL SENSE. 443 
 
 while alive ? Why not distribute among our chii 
 dren, to some extent at least, and at the same time a A 
 minister to the relief of such of the suffering and the 
 needy as are within our reach ? Why, in brief, post- 
 pone until Death shall have paralyzed our hands, the 
 discharge of a duty so- calculated, not only to contri- 
 bute to the happiness of others,. but to sweeten and 
 soften the closing hours of our own mortal existence ? 
 
 "A soft answer turneth. away wrath." 
 
 THE Moral Instructor of the Philadelphia County 
 Prison, in the course of some remarks on the im- 
 portance of proper discipline in Penitentiaries, con- 
 tends that '• the aim of the Inspectors and Keepers 
 should be to recall and revive the moral sense." In 
 other words, to restore the power of conscience, by 
 humanizing the feelings and enlightening the under- 
 standing. This strikes us as a correct view of an 
 important subject. What policy, therefore, should be 
 pursued? — that of severity and harshness, or that of 
 consideration and mercy ? The latter, by all means. 
 It may fail in some cases, but it will succeed in the 
 great majority. Of this there cannot be a doubt. 
 All the evidence upon the subject is conclusive. It 
 is difficult, nevertheless, to obtain the right kind of 
 officers. Men who have to deal with convicts should 
 
444 THE MORAL SENSE. 
 
 be able to exercise a more than ordinary control over 
 themselves, to repel and restrain their feelings, to 
 subdue their passions, and command their temper. 
 Otherwise they will become tyrants, and indulge in 
 various kinds of refined cruelty. It is, too, such an 
 easy thing for poor human nature to incline to selfish- 
 ness, that power is often exercised with a despotic 
 hand, and under circumstances of the greatest possi- 
 ble oppression. It is stated that there is now at 
 Cherry Hill, a convict, who, after having served four 
 years in the Philadelphia County Prison, was sen- 
 tenced to two years further incarceration for the vio- 
 lation of discipline. It appears that he had asked a 
 keeper — who has since been discharged — for an addi- 
 tional piece of bread. This was refused. The man 
 answered improperly. The keeper became excited, 
 and entered the cell in anger, with the object of in- 
 flicting punishment. At this the convict drew a knife, 
 whereupon the keeper retreated, and escaped without 
 injury. The wretched offender, nevertheless, was in 
 consequence of the conduct just referred to, tried, con- 
 victed, and sentenced to a further imprisonment of two 
 years, and is now serving out the time in the Eastern 
 Penitentiary! The question recurs — was not the 
 keeper in some sense at fault ? Did he not provoke 
 the convict to madness ? Might not all that we have 
 recorded, have been avoided by the policy of kind- 
 ness and forbearance? "A soft answer," in the lan- 
 guage of a profound observer of human nature, " turn- 
 eth away wrath." It is so even now, as in the days 
 of King Solomon. When, too, we have to deal with 
 the ignorant, the misguided, the down- trodden, the 
 abandoned, and the profligate, some of whom, who re- 
 
THE MORAL SENSE. 445 
 
 gard themselves as outcasts from society, the wisdom, 
 the policy, and the mercy of this course are still more 
 imperative. We are not disposed to indulge in any 
 morbid sympathy, or to regard a convict as a victim, 
 simply because, after his confinement to the walls of 
 a prison, he assumes an air of penitence, and tells a 
 plausible story. There are few who have had oppor- 
 tunities of visiting the legal abodes of the offenders 
 against society, who have not been sadly deceived by 
 some accomplished yet inveterate villain. Neverthe- 
 less, these few cases should not be regarded as speci- 
 mens of the whole; and a harsh and cruel policy 
 should not be adopted generally, because of the decep- 
 tions practiced by the artful, and the impositions in- 
 geniously contrived and skillfully executed by the 
 cunning or the talented. 
 
 There are, undoubtedly, at least two classes of offen- 
 ders : those who become so by deliberate choice, and 
 who, apparently, indulge and delight in the most 
 heartless descriptions of crime, and those who descend 
 step by step, through ignorance, want, intemperance, 
 and temptation, but who, nevertheless, have not lost 
 all moral sense, and would gladly retrace their steps, 
 and again become useful members of society. These 
 latter, we indulge a hope and belief, constitute the 
 great majority ; and it is this view, long indulged and 
 strengthened by all observation, that induces our ad- 
 vocacy of the policy of forbearance, generosity, and 
 mercy. Let us not only be grateful because we have 
 escaped the temptations and the dangers which have 
 overwhelmed so many of our fellow- creatures, but let 
 us go a step further, and assist by all the means in 
 our power, the many who have fallen. If we can 
 
446 THE MORAL SENSE. 
 
 « 
 
 raise them up morally and socially, as well as physi- 
 cally, the duty is imperative, and it should be prose- 
 cuted cheerfully, and at all fitting times and seasons. 
 There are few who have gone beyond the years of 
 manhood, who cannot remember some companion of 
 their youthful days, some school-fellow or early friend 
 of boyhood, who, at that unsuspecting time, was pure 
 and good, and without a thought of sin or crime. 
 Years passed on, and gradually the infatuated or the 
 misguided wandered from the right path into the 
 wrong. But can nothing be clone for him ? Is he 
 dead to the voice of sympathy ? Would he not listen 
 to the counsels, and be grateful for the assistance of 
 an old and early friend ? At least, let the trial be 
 made. And if no such unfortunate can be singled 
 out, the field is a wide one, and all who desire to do 
 something noble, generous, and high-hearted, may 
 find ample scope for their feelings among the miser- 
 able beings who crowd, as well our penal as our 
 pauper establishments ; and to these we beg leave to 
 direct attention. What nobler or holier object of 
 human benevolence and effort than the rescue of an 
 erring brother ! 
 
Wat Han of Pang jjimnks. 
 
 "What hollow things are heartless promises." 
 
 IT is the easiest thing in the world to make promises. 
 There are, moreover, many persons who promise, 
 never intending to perform, and not a few who believe 
 at the time that they are sincere, and will fulfil all 
 that they undertake to do. They mean well, but do 
 not reflect sufficiently. In other words, they speak 
 without thinking. They are easy, changeable, facile 
 and ready ; and thus, while they lack the courage to 
 say No, they often say Yes unconsciously, or at least 
 not seriously. A promise is a sacred thing, and it 
 should so be considered. It should not be given 
 lightly, and should never, if possible, be violated. 
 Nevertheless, there are multitudes who are in the 
 constant habit of falsifying their pledges and breaking 
 their promises. They make engagements for all times 
 and occasions, and then they treat them with indiffer- 
 ence and contempt. The effect is to cause disappoint- 
 ment, to provoke unkindness and ill-will, to engender 
 enmity. The humblest individual in society dislikes 
 to be trifled with. If truthful himself, he has a right 
 to expect truth in others. His engagements and obli- 
 gations he regards as sacred, and he therefore naturally 
 and reasonably expects the same fidelity and honor 
 on the part of others. 
 
 (447) 
 
448 THE MAN OF MANY OF PROMISES. 
 
 The man of many promises is generally a trifler 
 and a hypocrite, if not worse. If he venture upon a 
 statement that he knows to be false, or if he make an 
 engagement that he cannot fulfil, he is of course dis- 
 honorable and not reliable. He may deceive arid dis- 
 appoint once or twice, but thereafter he will be dis- 
 trusted and avoided. It is better to be frank and 
 truthful upon all occasions. This may be unpleasant 
 at first, in some cases, but it will save many mis- 
 givings, tergiversations, and bitter anxieties thereafter. 
 A first false promise is apt to render another necessary, 
 inasmuch as one untruth is too often followed by a 
 succession, and each deeper and darker than that 
 which preceded it. The man of many promises is no 
 novel character. He may be seen in almost every 
 profession, calling and condition of life. He is anxious 
 to be on the best of terms with everybody ; and thus 
 he assumes to be willing to oblige all who s$ek his 
 aid or counsel. He is thoughtless, heedless, reckless, 
 and in most cases unprincipled. He is either too 
 weak to be firm, or does not mean what he says. 
 Alas ! for the victims of this class of individuals. They 
 are led on by false hopes, and are often induced to 
 make heavy sacrifices. They may have been promised 
 some situation, some influence, or some peculiar aid ; 
 and at the designated hour, they find the whole thing 
 a hollow mockery, if not a base coinage. 
 
 "We have heard of more than one deplorable case. 
 A few years since, an estimable young stranger who 
 was in very needy circumstances, was offered a situa- 
 tion in a western city. He was about accepting it, 
 when a pretended friend advised him. otherwise, and 
 guaranteed some thing "much better within a few 
 
THE MAN OF MANY PKOMISES. 449 
 
 weeks." The opportunity was permitted to pass, and 
 at the expiration of the alloted time, the better situa- 
 tion was found to be a mere bubble — a heartless 
 fiction. Nay, in another case, a man of family was 
 induced, by a public functionary, to throw up an 
 eligible post, under the promise of providing him a 
 much better ; and then, to his consternation, he was 
 coolly told by the individual who had placed him in 
 such a dilemma, that he could not receive the ap- 
 pointment. Such conduct we regard not only as dis- 
 creditable, but as base and unmanly. The system, 
 we repeat, is reckless and heartless. "We have no 
 right to trifle with the feelings and fortunes of others. 
 "We have no right to raise expectations which we can- 
 not realize. The man of many promises is certain to 
 become involved in feuds and misunderstandings. 
 The deceived and betrayed naturally get indignant. 
 They cannot understand a policy so false and so base. 
 Nay, we have known more than one instance in which 
 a bitter disappointment caused by a violated promise, 
 has resulted in sickness and death. 
 
 It sometimes happens that for years the mind is 
 directed to a particular object. It becomes the one 
 great thought, the all-absorbing purpose. All the 
 energies of the character are devoted to its attainment. 
 At such a moment, aid, pecuniary or otherwise, may 
 be absolutely essential. This may be promised, nay, 
 sometimes volunteered, but with no intention of 
 affording it. When, therefore, the truth is ascertained, 
 and the delusion vanishes, the disappointment and 
 the despair are keen and agonizing. Nay, the grave 
 itself is sometimes resorted to, as the only means of 
 escape and relief. How cruel then to promise without 
 
450 THE MAN OF MANY PKOMISES. 
 
 intending to perform — to fan hopes and expectations 
 that can never be realized ! There are other kinds 
 of promises in which the affections are deeply engaged, 
 and which, when violated, life is embittered for years. 
 These obligations are not unfreqnently the result 
 rather of conduct than of words, of manner than of 
 professions. In a neighboring city not long since, a 
 highly accomplished lady was betrothed for a con- 
 siderable period to one of the sterner sex, and the 
 out-door world were in constant expectation of their 
 marriage. But suddenly, and without the slightest 
 cause, the suitor withdrew his attentions, and in the 
 course of a few months married another. The injured 
 woman may forgive, but she can never forget such 
 vile treachery. And yet her slumbers must be far 
 sweeter and deeper than those of the ingrate and the 
 recreant. But to promise without intending to per- 
 form, is always culpable, nay, criminal. In every 
 sense the practice is base and dishonorable, and it 
 should be carefully avoided. 
 
mm anir t\t Utarfp of Jtal 
 fife. 
 
 "There are martyrs that miss the palm, bat not the stake; there are he*oes 
 Without the laurel, and conquerors without the triumph." 
 
 IT is the fashion of mankind to bow down to suc- 
 cess. The powerful and the affluent are, in a gen- 
 eral sense, regarded as idols — as something almost 
 superhuman. The means, too, by which they at- 
 tained eminence, are not always duly scrutinized. 
 The end dazzles and bewilders, and thus the multitude 
 flatter and fawn, while modest merit, unwavering in- 
 tegrity, and untiring perseverance, if unsuccessful, are 
 too often permitted to wither in the shade. And yet 
 there is no spectacle better calculated to command the 
 admiration of the just and the appreciating, than a 
 noble mind struggling with adversity. The few only 
 succeed, the many fail. Nevertheless, there is no 
 condition in life that does not abound in moral he- 
 roes. There is none that has not its martyrs. Thou- 
 sands and tens of thousands toil on from year to year, 
 conscientious, honest, upright, and faithful, and yet 
 unknown, unnoticed, and obscure. Their duties are 
 often arduous, and they discharge them with untiring 
 purpose, and without a murmur. Again, in the 
 higher walks of life, how many are blessed with in- 
 tellect, and adorned by all that is calculated to elevate 
 and dignify human nature but who do not succeed in 
 28 (451) 
 
452 HEROES AND MARTYRS OF REAL LIFE. 
 
 a worldly sense. The recent fearful epidemic in Vir- 
 ginia fanned the flame of moral heroism in many gen- 
 erous and sympathetic breasts; and the volunteers 
 who perished in a cause so holy, deserve to be pointed 
 to with admiration in all time to come. And so 
 in all similar cases. The gentle creatures who re- 
 paired to the hospitals of the Crimea, for the purpose 
 of pouring o/l into the wounds of the sick and the 
 suffering, mir.t be regarded as among the noblest 
 specimens of moral heroism. So, too, the Spanish 
 woman who was killed at Monterey by a chance shot, 
 while she wfes administering alike to the wants of the 
 lingering a^id the languishing of both armies. The 
 idea of worldly fame, or of earthly reward, did not 
 enter into her calculation. The divine spirit of hu- 
 manity glowed in her bosom, and she fell while in 
 the discharge of a sacred duty. But how many are 
 at this moment struggling on in various positions of 
 life, calmly, earnestly, and yet unsuccessfully ! How 
 many, indeed, have gone down to the grave, whitened 
 by time and bent with care, who devoted almost every 
 hour of their existence to some object which they 
 believed was calculated to benefit mankind, and who 
 failed to realize the golden dream ! Only a few days 
 since we heard of the suicide at Washington of an 
 enthusiast, who was convinced that he had discovered 
 a new and extraordinary system of musical educa- 
 tion, but who, failing to secure a sufficient degree of 
 public attention, desponded, despaired, maddened, and 
 rushed into eternity ! It is, we consider, an error to 
 give way under any circumstances, for the true policy 
 is to persevere unto the end. But, alas ! for all who 
 waste their talents and their years with a laudable 
 
HEROES AND MARTYRS OF REAL LIFE. 453 
 
 object, who exert their faculties and their energies, 
 who exhaust all honorable efforts at their command, 
 and jet who fail ! It has been well and touchingly 
 said, that " ill success sometimes arises from a super- 
 abundance of qualities in themselves good, from a 
 conscience too sensitive, a taste too fastidious, a self- 
 forgetfulness too romantic, and a modesty too retir- 
 ing." This is undoubtedly true. It is, moreover, 
 the observation of one who has not only looked upon 
 the world with a thoughtful mind, but a sympathetic 
 heart. Who, that has mingled much with mankind, 
 cannot point out illustrations? Who cannot single 
 out individuals who are possessed of genius, talent, 
 industry, truth, integrity — all the qualities that are 
 calculated to embellish and beautify the human char- 
 acter, but who cannot succeed! Every thing in a 
 worldly way seems to go wrong with them. They 
 are not fitted for the contentions of trade, the compe- 
 titions of commerce, the rivalries of ambition, or even 
 the ordinary chances and changes of the bustling 
 scenes of society. They are kind of heart, generous, 
 just, and self-denying. They fulfill all their obliga- 
 tions, and discharge all their duties; and yet they 
 do not succeed in a business or a pecuniary sense. 
 Year after year goes by, and they still struggle at 
 their posts. And there Death finds them ; the success 
 of this life as unachieved and remote as ever. But 
 may we not hope, as the spirit parts from the body, 
 as the soul wings its flight from this perishing frame 
 of flesh, that a radiant beam of glory will burst upon 
 the immortal vision, and the success, the triumph, 
 the realization, which were denied in this world, will 
 gladden, gratify, and thrill with inconceivable delight, 
 in that which is above and beyond ! 
 
 23 
 
% lEorfr in $mm\i 
 
 ON looking through the history of one's life, sur- 
 prise will frequently be produced at the impor^ 
 tant result of circumstances which, when they tran- 
 spired, seemed trivial and insignificant. A man's 
 energies are something like his life. Both may be 
 nearly exhausted, and both may be recalled into new 
 action, revivified existence, by a breath of fresh air — 
 a word of sympathy and encouragement. We remem- 
 ber a story of a child who had been long ill, and 
 whose frame and faculties had become so exhausted 
 and enfeebled by his disease, that his poor mother 
 hung over him in agony, believing that the spirit had 
 departed. At this point the father, who had been 
 absent from home for some time, and who doated on 
 his boy, arrived, was informed of his son's illness, and 
 passed calmly into the sick chamber. The child was 
 indeed pale and cold, and seemed wholly lifeless. But 
 the father still clung to a faint hope, and, leaning over 
 the apparent corpse, he placed his mouth to the ear 
 of the boy, whispered some old, familiar, and affection- 
 ate word, which seemed as it were to penetrate into 
 the inner depths of the child's emaciated frame and 
 exhausted spirit. He opened his eyes, a faint smile 
 played upon his features, and from that moment his 
 recovery was as if by miracle. The father had spoken 
 the "word in season." Perhaps we should add, he 
 breathed a silent prayer to the Deity, before he whis- 
 (454) 
 
A WOllD IN SEASON: 455 
 
 pered in the ear of his child, and that from the first he 
 felt impressed with a belief that the boy would be 
 spared him. He had faith in the inward appeal, and 
 that faith, thus strengthened by the recovery of one 
 so dear to him, has never departed from his mind and 
 heart. The little incident which we have just detailed 
 is doubtless but an ordinary occurrence. Like results 
 are constantly taking place. Bat in the excitement, 
 bustle, and forgetfulness which characterize the scenes 
 of this life, they arrest attention but for a moment, 
 and pass away, to be recalled only in some hour of 
 calm reflection, or when sickness has prostrated our 
 physical strength, and our thoughts wandered to an- 
 other world. We have alluded to the circumstance 
 with a twofold object. In the first place, for the pur- 
 pose of urging the potent influence of a word in sea- 
 son, and in the second, of encouraging the doctrine of 
 perseverance under any and every difficulty. We 
 should never despair. We should never permit our- 
 selves to abandon all hope with regard to the reform 
 of a friend or relative who has imbibed evil habits 
 and whose footsteps seem tending to ruin and death 
 In sickness, we should still hold on to the last, and 
 resort to every means for the recovery and restoration 
 of the patient. So also with moral diseases and in- 
 firmities — so in our struggles and trials in the out- 
 door world. A word in season may still exercise a 
 most salutary influence. The erring may be recalled 
 from their condition of darkness and danger, and in- 
 duced to put on the garments of reform. How much 
 in this way has been accomplished within the last few 
 years by the Temperance Eeform! How many 
 wretched outcasts have been reclaimed ! How many 
 
456 A WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 desolate hearths have been brightened ! How many 
 sad domestic circles have been made happy ! Perse- 
 vere — persevere — should be the motto of all, not only 
 in trade and in commerce, but in philanthropy and 
 religion. Let us not be misunderstood. We would 
 not have even the best of morals inculcated in an un- 
 kind and offensive spirit. The manner should be 
 benevolent and Christian as well as the matter. We 
 have seen it contended, and not without force, that 
 there " are evils in the life of every man, when all the 
 concurrent circumstances of fortune seem to form, as 
 it were, a dam against the current of his fate, and turn 
 it completely into another direction, where the trifling 
 accident and the great event work together to produce 
 an entirely new combination around him." 
 
 Is not this doctrine strictly true ? Have you not, 
 gentle reader, seen it illustrated in your own history ? 
 And yet, trifles light as air sometimes produce mighty 
 results ; while, on other occasions, events of apparently 
 vast importance pass rapidly on, and leave scarcely a 
 vestige of their progress behind. We are creatures 
 in the hands of a Superior Being. We do not know, 
 we cannot predict, how the events of to-day may affect 
 us years to come. It is impossible for us to say, at 
 what point in our history misfortune may leave us, 
 and the future, however dark at present, assume an 
 aspect of brightness. Still it is our duty to be virtu- 
 ous, to have faith and to persevere. So, also, we are 
 bound to extend sympathy, consolation, and encour- 
 agement to others. Many a suicide has been turned 
 from his dark purpose, by some act of charity and 
 humanity on the part of a stranger. Many a poor 
 beggar, perishing in the streets, has, when he least ex 
 
LIFE AND ITS EXCITEMENTS. 457 
 
 pected it, been warmed in heart, encouraged in hope, 
 induced to thank Providence, and taught to look for- 
 ward to better days, by some unexpected alms thrust 
 into his extended hand by an unknown individual, 
 who at the moment was prompted to the generous act 
 by the invisible Spirit of God. Persevere ! — we repeat, 
 persevere! " Never," says the author of Marston, 
 " think of the failures of yesterday but to avoid them 
 to-morrow; and never speculate on the failures of to- 
 morrow, but to remember that you have outlived the 
 failures of to-day." 
 
 life Httb its feitements; or, % JPJilosflfJi 
 of Retiring, 
 
 " He struggled on another year — and died I" 
 
 THE excitements of life are so absorbing, that it 
 requires great sagacity to discover the proper 
 moment to withdraw from a position of constant 
 activity, while more than ordinary moral courage is 
 necessary to enable one to act upon such a conclusion 
 or determination. This is not only the case in the 
 political but in the commercial world. Nay, it is so 
 in almost every phase and condition of social existence. 
 There are few who can realize the fact that they have 
 seen their best days ; that their faculties, mental and 
 physical, have become enfeebled ; and, in short, that the 
 time has arrived for them to throw off some of the 
 
458 LIFE AND ITS EXCITEMENTS. 
 
 cares and responsibilities of business, of ambition, of 
 power or of position, and retire, to some extent at least, 
 within the calm seclusion of peaceful scenes and asso- 
 ciations. Not a week goes by, that some rich man is 
 not called away in the midst of his struggles for gain. 
 A determination is made from day to day, and from 
 year to year, to withdraw, to wind up the tangled 
 skein of a thousand business engagements, to pause in 
 the struggle for more, and to hoard the little physical 
 strength that remains. But the excitements of the 
 time engross and absorb, new schemes present them- 
 selves, new enterprises hold out their temptations, and 
 thus the wear and tear are kept up, the busy chase 
 goes on, until at last the weary and way-worn toiler, 
 utterly exhausted, falters, fails, and absolutely totters 
 into the grave. The majority of men not only mis- 
 take their strength, but overtask their powers. Nay, 
 they constantly deceive themselves. They lull and 
 delude themselves with the belief that they are stronger 
 than they really are; that any feebleness or illness 
 with which they may be troubled will prove but 
 momentary ; that the world is still wide and inviting 
 before them, and that they have yet much to do with 
 its busy and bewildering scenes. Occasionally they 
 are admonished, as some old friend is snatched away, 
 and for a moment they pause, linger thoughtfully upon 
 the subject, and then avoid it as unpleasant and pain- 
 ful. Business, too, calls with its many voices, power 
 still holds out its fascinations, ambition points to its 
 triumphs, and the sick, the dying, and even the dead, 
 are forgotten ! Such is life and its excitements. Such 
 is man ; such are his pursuits. Such is human infirmity 
 —such human delusion. Every opulent city abounds 
 
LIFE AND ITS EXCITEMENTS. 459 
 
 with illustrations. Shut out to a considerable extent 
 from Nature and her teachings, unmindful of the 
 progress of seed-time and harvest, forgetful of the 
 lessons that are so constantly inculcated by the falling 
 leaf and the fading flower, the denizen of a thronged 
 metropolis sees only the busy multitude around and 
 'about him — each actively engaged, either in the strug- 
 gle for bread or the race for fortune, and the majority, 
 prompted by the heartless spirit of selfishness. The 
 world, within such narrow limits, is full of anxi- 
 eties and excitements. Not a day goes by, that some 
 new bubble is not blown before the eyes of the eager 
 and the credulous ; that some wild" scheme is not con- 
 cocted for the purpose of deluding the thoughtless and 
 the grasping ; that some base imposture is not devised 
 with the purpose of deceiving and defrauding. The 
 young and inexperienced are, in most cases, the vic- 
 tims, but not so always. Avarice often deceives it- 
 self; and in the effort to accumulate and clutch, it 
 sometimes sacrifices the earnings of years. And thus 
 it is that so many, unwilling to retire at the proper 
 time, not contented with a moderate independence, 
 unable to discover when they have secured enough, 
 not only outlive their day, but indulge too long in the 
 hazards of trade, and the perils of enterprise, and find 
 at last that they are on the eve of the grave, when, as 
 they foolishly supposed, some new fortune was about 
 to be showered upon them. It is, indeed, difficult to 
 discover, whether, in many cases, ambition and power 
 do not present stronger temptations to the advanced 
 in years than even the golden fascinations of Mammon. 
 Look for example at some of the Presidential aspirants 
 of our own day and country. Look back, also, at some 
 
i60 LIFE AND ITS EXCITEMENTS, 
 
 of those who have passed from the scene of their mor- 
 tal labors. Again, look into society, penetrate the 
 marts of trade and commerce, and single out from the 
 crowds there busily engaged, the men who, already 
 independent, abundantly so, yet toil on, some of them 
 bent with age and with care, and feverish and hollow- 
 eyed with anxiety ! The result will astonish and be- 
 wilder. It will be impossible to imagine why such 
 anxieties are submitted to, why the failing energies 
 are thus tasked and taxed, why health is thus trifled 
 with, and life itself endangered. Is it because the in- 
 dividuals thus engaged have become so thoroughly 
 absorbed with the things of this world, that they have 
 no thought for any future condition ? Is it that they 
 mistake their strength ? Is it that they deceive them- 
 selves, or has avarice so taken possession of their souls 
 that they cannot find time to reflect that there are 
 other duties than those of accumulation, that humanity 
 has its high and holy obligations, and that there is a 
 world and a destiny beyond the grave ? It is not for 
 us to reply to these questions, but they are neverthe- 
 less pregnant with meaning, and entitled to calm and 
 deliberate consideration. Why should the future be 
 sacrificed to the present — and why should poor human- 
 ity toil, labor, and strive for the hollow things of earth 
 to the neglect as well of the priceless consolations of an 
 unaccusing conscience, as of the blissful inheritance 
 of a bright hereafter ! 
 
%\t (Me aitb % Harsjr; or, €k 
 Pjikoplju of Reproof. 
 
 1 If a soul thou wouldst redeem, 
 
 And lead a lost one back to God — 
 Wouldst thou a guardian angel seem 
 
 To one who long in guilt has trod — 
 Go kindly to him — take his hand 
 
 With gentlest words within thine own, 
 And by his side a brother stand, 
 
 Till all the demons thou dethrone." 
 
 FTMHE time, the mode, and the manner of reproof 01 
 JL rebuke are not sufficiently attended to. Many 
 individuals are disposed to use harsh language when 
 mild would prove far more effective, and to indulge 
 in a burst of violent denunciation when a few well- 
 considered words would answer every purpose. The 
 pangs that have been caused by the rash course, the 
 difficulties and the estrangements that have been pro- 
 duced, the misunderstandings and the fends, have been 
 numerous indeed. There are few who can control and 
 govern themselves at all times. Even in the family 
 circle and the domestic household, the error adverted 
 to prevails to a fearful extent, and wives are rebuked 
 by husbands, children by parents, not in a kindly and 
 considerate spirit, but with bitterness, harshness, and 
 temper. The consequences may be imagined. The 
 head of the household, if he be the erring party, is re- 
 garded with fear and apprehension, and is considered 
 rather in the light of a petty despot than of a parent, 
 
 (461) 
 
462 THE GENTLE AND THE HARSH. 
 
 a counselor, and a friend. His presence is shunned 
 rather than sought for ; and home, instead of being 
 rendered the happiest place upon earth, is made a 
 scene of anxiety and pain, and is avoided as much as 
 possible. And so, too, with reference to the harsh 
 wife and the idle or erring husband. The violence 
 of language and of manner, so frequently resorted to 
 by the former, are regarded with a sort of terror, and 
 thus many a weak but well-meaning man is driven 
 away from his home, and induced to commit shocking 
 excesses, who, by a milder and gentler policy, might 
 readily be won from his dissolute companions and his 
 evil and vicious habits. A year or two ago, a young 
 man arrived in this country from France, in a state of 
 comparative destitution. He was the only nephew 
 of an eminent merchant of Marseilles, to whose care 
 he had been confided by his dying sister, in the last 
 hours of her illness. He (the uncle) gave his pledge 
 to prove a father to the youth, and for several years 
 he kept it. But as the nephew approached the age 
 of manhood, his uncle sought out for him a very ad- 
 vantageous companion for life, as he supposed, in the 
 daughter of a wealthy friend. The youth listened at 
 first, consented to see the lady; and to exert himself, 
 as well to secure her affections as to obey his uncle's 
 request. The trial was unfortunate. The parties 
 were not suited to each other, and so the nephew an- 
 nounced to his relative and guardian, and in as re- 
 spectful language as he could. But the uncle was in- 
 censed in the highest degree. He had set his heart 
 upon the match, and he considered the conduct of- the 
 youth, under the circumstances, as insolent, presump- 
 tuous and rebellious. So, too, he described it, and in 
 
THE GENTLE AND THE HAESH. 463 
 
 language of vehemence and passion. The young man 
 bore all this day after day, and then, in very despera- 
 tion and despair, he gathered together his wardrobe, 
 and the little funds he conld command, and came to 
 this country. For awhile the struggle was as between 
 life and death. A stranger in a strange land, and 
 unable to speak the language, his position at times 
 was melancholy indeed. But he would rather die 
 than return to his' uncle, and his uncle, on the other 
 hand— such is often excited human nature — would 
 rather see him perish than bring him back by a kind 
 word! And this, perhaps, is one of many kindred 
 cases. The harshness of friends and relatives, even 
 although deserved, should rarely be exercised. The 
 fact of error only renders the mind more irritable ; and 
 thus it is that the misguided and the guilty, stung to 
 the quick by some sharp and cutting remark, often 
 rush into the world, and brave all its vicissitudes, re- 
 verses," and terrors, rather than apologize and ask for 
 forgiveness. How often is this the case with the 
 young, the wild, and the improvident ! Mistaking 
 themselves and their own powers, they venture into 
 the great whirlpool of human society, totally uncon- 
 scious of the shoals and the quicksands, the tempta- 
 tions and the trials. And when, too, they fall, as they 
 frequently do, never to rise again, how keen the re- 
 morse of those who drove them away by thoughtless- 
 ness, by harshness, by severity ! Their dreams by 
 night, and their thoughts by day, are haunted by the 
 shadowy ghosts of the reckless and the ruined. They 
 would give worlds* to recall their mistaken policy, and 
 yet they looked on and saw the victims perish, or 
 closed their ears to the voice of nature, conscience, 
 
464: THE GENTLE AND THE HAKSH. 
 
 and humanity. "Deal gently with the erring," and 
 especially with the young. This is the true, the 
 generous, the godlike policy. Why should we mete 
 out to others, and especially to flesh of our own flesh, 
 a measure of harshness that we would not have the 
 great Creator deal out toward us ? Why should we 
 forget our own errors and infirmities, and fancy be- 
 cause we have grown wiser and better, that all man- 
 kind, the young and the unfortunate, the improvident 
 and misguided, the easy and the credulous, should be 
 able to exercise a like spirit of philosophy ? There is, 
 moreover, much more real pleasure in the enjoyment 
 of the kindly than in the indulgence of the harsh. The 
 one is full of benevolence and good-will — the other 
 of bitterness, tyranny, jealousy, and malice. Of course, 
 it is difficult at times, even with the best and purest, 
 so to school and control the passions, the preju- 
 dices, and the lips, as to avoid a harsh rebuke or a 
 bitter remark. But these seasons should be excep- 
 tions to the general rule, a rule that, if closely ad- 
 hered to — of never uttering a harsh word when a 
 mild one would answer as well — is calculated to form 
 a perpetual source of satisfaction and of pleasure. 
 
<@d% 54 to Jasi 
 
 : Before thy hour be ripe ! oh, foolish youth, 
 Thou woulds't be affluent ?" 
 
 THE desire to accumulate wealth may, to a eertaiu. 
 extent, be regarded as natural as well as honor- 
 able. No individual who possesses a proper spirit, is 
 anxious to remain for years in a conditiom of depend- 
 ence and uncertainty. A competency is, indeed, one 
 of the essentials of a comfortable state of human ex- 
 istence, especially in a society constituted as is that of 
 the present day. But the desire to get rich too rapidly, 
 must be considered as an error and an evil, especially 
 with the young and inexperienced, who foolishly 
 fancy that fortunes can be made in a year, and that 
 there is some short road to prosperity and wealth. 
 The effect is to induce them not only to indulge in 
 visionary enterprises and hazardous speculations, but 
 to tempt them, at times, into the commission of dis- 
 honorable, nay, even of criminal acts. They are de- 
 termined to get money " honestly if they can," but 
 " by all means to get money." Their ideas become in- 
 flated and extravagant, they lack the great essentials 
 of patience, perseverance, industry, and energy; and 
 they deluda themselves with a belief that they possess 
 peculiar faculties," and hence are " bound" to secure a 
 fortune by some rapid and irregular mode. Thus, 
 they are constantly on "the look-out," and at the same 
 
 (465) 
 
'166 GETTING KICH TOO FAST. 
 
 time are comparatively idle. The ordinary pursuits 
 of life and industry are alluded to with contempt, and 
 as beneath the dignity and the ability of persons of 
 their remarkable and precocious powers. And they 
 live on from day to day and from year to year, 
 visionary, speculative, theoretical, and often, as already 
 observed, tempted into crime. Some frightful illus- 
 trations have been afforded within a few years. The 
 arsons, the forgeries, the breaches of trust and the de- 
 falcations may, many of them at least, be attributed to 
 the desire to get rich quickly, and without regard to 
 the means. It is a fearful error, and one that, in a 
 great majority of cases, will sooner or later plunge its 
 victims into difficulty, danger, and disgrace. The old 
 and beaten track — that of honesty and integrity — is 
 the only reliable one. The route may be long, and 
 the difficulties may be numerous, but the end will 
 always be honorable, and generally successful. It is 
 true that large fortunes have occasionally been realized 
 in a short time by some bold and dashing enterprise. 
 But the cases are as one in a thousand. And while, 
 moreover, the few successful are pointed out, and 
 made the objects of emulation and jealousy, the many 
 unsuccessful attract little or no attention, and com- 
 mand less sympathy and commiseration. Such is the 
 way of the world. Legitimate enterprise is one thing, 
 but wild and bubble-like speculation is another, and 
 in broad contrast. The individual who is gradually 
 accumulating a pecuniary independence by the pur- 
 suit of a regular business, and who, intoxicated by 
 success, becomes desirous of participating in this 
 scheme and to the neglect of his regular occupation, is 
 fascinated by a fearful temptation, and one to which 
 
GETTING RICH TOO FAST. 467 
 
 hundreds have already fallen victims. It is not in the 
 nature of things that one human being, however active 
 and able, should be capable of managing many call- 
 ings. Let him direct all his energies and efforts to 
 one, /ind the chances will be decidedly in his fa^or. 
 But let him distract his attention and divide his ener- 
 gies, and the reverse will almost inevitably be tbs 
 consequence. Of late years, an extravagant spirit has 
 been abroad everywhere throughout the country. 
 Eeal estate has nearly doubled in price, not only in 
 the hearts of our leading cities, but in the outskirts 
 and suburbs. Farms have been converted into build- 
 ing lots, and railroads have penetrated into wild and' 
 barren recesses. The' effect has been to bewilder and 
 madden. Some of the landholders, taking advantage 
 of the momentary excitement, realized at enormous 
 prices, and thus made themselves comfortable for the 
 rest of their days. Others, however, increased their 
 terms as the fever increased, and are likely to repent 
 their greedy and grasping disposition in sackcloth and 
 ashes. But the effect of all this, and especially of the 
 marvelous stories that have been told of the rapid for- 
 tunes thus realized, has been to deceive and delude 
 the young, the eager, and the inexperienced. " Why," 
 they argue, "cannot we pursue a similar course? 
 Why should we be compelled to toil from day to day, 
 and with so remote a chance of independence and 
 fortune ? Others have speculated boldly and success- 
 fully, and why cannot we do so ?" In the first place, 
 they lack the judgment and experience ; in the second, 
 the steadiness and firmness ; and in the third, most of 
 them have yet to accumulate even the few thousand 
 dollars which are essential as a starting-point. The 
 29 
 
468 EXAGGERATION. 
 
 cases are rare, indeed, in which success is achieved 
 without patience, perseverance, and industry. Those 
 who are about to begin life should understand and 
 appreciate this truth, and act accordingly. The dream 
 of sudden fortunes without labor and perseverance is 
 a delusion. It will mock, deceive tempt, and destroy. 
 
 ratim— |fe |MIs aifo its penalties. 
 
 A habit base and vile. 
 
 ONE of the prevailing evils of the day, is a dispo- 
 sition to exaggerate. It prevails in some degree 
 in almost every circle. No event can take place, 
 either in public or private life, that is not misrepre- 
 sented and exaggerated, and to such an extent, that it 
 is sometimes impossible to ascertain the real truth. 
 The credulous are thus often imposed upon, while the 
 cautious and hesitating rarely believe any thing. In 
 the social world this spirit and disposition exist to a 
 frightful extent. Extravagant phrases are employed 
 in describing trifling events, and the ordinary inci- 
 dents of every-day life are magnified into something 
 important and serious. If a gentleman call twice 
 upon a lady in the same week, they are reported by 
 some prying looker-on as u engaged," and this story 
 travels from lip to lip with such rapidity, that it is 
 almost impossible to contradict it fully and effectually. . 
 The consequences are not only unpleasant, but often 
 
EXAGGEKATION. 469 
 
 painful. And so in cases of disaster. If a fire take 
 place, the amount of damage is generally trebled by 
 the first reports ; and if a failure occur, the liabilities 
 are multiplied : and thus the community are excited 
 and deceived. 
 
 The seat of government at Washington is the focus 
 of invention and exaggeration, not to say of downright 
 falsehood. The most improbable stories are constantly 
 put into circulation from that fertile manufactory. The 
 more startling the better — at least so the authors seem 
 to imagine. They create a sensation, attract attention, 
 and thus the end is answered. The competition, too, 
 is so keen among some of the letter-writers, that when 
 they are deficient in facts they do not hesitate to call 
 upon fancy. The public has been deceived so often, 
 that more than ordinary suspicion now attaches to 
 Washington rumors, and a considerable discount is 
 always made for the spirit of exaggeration. 
 
 But it is the disposition to speak grandiloquently 
 upon trifling affairs, and to magnify the molelike 
 events of human life into momentous and mountainous 
 matters, that we desire more particular!)' to censure. 
 The evil is one that grows from day to day, and thus 
 in the course of a year or two the habit becomes so 
 fixed, that a "plain, unvarnished tale" is altogether 
 out of the question. Nay, all character for veracity is 
 destroyed, and it is impossible for a listener to decide 
 how much of truth and how much of falsehood is 
 embodied in the story that is told or the incident that 
 is described. Many persons become addicted to this 
 practice, without recognizing or appreciating its per- 
 nicious effect, and indeed unconscious that they indulge 
 
 in a habit so vile. They at first intend merely to 
 29 
 
470 EXAGGERATION. 
 
 embellish some ordinary affair, and then they follow 
 up the experiment again and again, until at last they 
 cannot speak the simple truth, because, in brief, it is 
 too plain and unadorned for the excited, extravagant, 
 and exaggerated spirit to which they have accustomed 
 themselves. A sad mistake, and one, we repeat, that 
 is full of evil consequences. 
 
 The beauty of truth cannot be commended too 
 highly, while its influence upon character and happi- 
 ness can only be fully appreciated either by those who 
 have watched in others the general effects of error and 
 exaggeration, or who have experienced them in them- 
 selves. Many and striking illustrations could be 
 given, but there is scarcely an individual who cannot 
 call before his mental vision the image of some invet- 
 erate exaggerater or falsifier — one who either has not 
 a due appreciation of truth, its beauty and its sublimity, 
 or who, having become addicted to extravagance of 
 speech, and exaggeration in detail, can never be relied 
 upon ; but, on the contrary, is always listened to with 
 doubt and distrust. 
 
 There are two classes who indulge in this weakness 
 or vice. One may be regarded as thoughtless, inno- 
 cent, and intending no harm, and the other as jealous, 
 deliberate, and malicious. With the former the prac- 
 tice may be regarded as a weakness, and with the 
 latter as a vice. The former speak idly, rashly, and 
 extravagantly, simply with the object of hearing them- 
 selves talk, and creating a momentary sensation, while 
 the latter delight in hunting up the trifling errors and 
 imperfections of their friends and neighbors, and mag 
 nifying them into serious, if not unpardonable offences. 
 But the habit is a vile one in every point of view It 
 
CHARACTER. 471 
 
 is full of mischief, if not of guilt, and it should be 
 avoided by all who wish well to themselves and to 
 others. Truth is one of the brightest jewels of moral 
 character. It not only adorns and dignifies, but its 
 lustre, like that of the diamond, attracts, embellishes, 
 and beautifies. 
 
 Ckrader~-C|e |]araltg rt fa loss. 
 
 '• Good name, in man or woman, dear my lord, 
 Is the immediate jewel of their souls." 
 
 ATKIAL took place some time since in a neigh 
 boring city, in which an individual was charged 
 with a serious fraud. The testimony against him was 
 strong, but it was not conclusive ; and the fact that he 
 had, up to that time, borne an irreproachable charac- 
 ter, exercised so much influence upon the minds of 
 the jury, that a verdict of acquittal was rendered. The 
 decision, as it seems to us, was right under the cir- 
 cumstances. Unsullied character, in such a case, 
 should exercise due influence. It should protect 
 against unjust suspicion, and constitute a palladium 
 and a safeguard in the hour of difficulty and danger. 
 A few years ago, and during the existence of a mone- 
 tary crisis, a citizen of New York waited upon one of 
 the banks, and asked assistance. The times were " tight," 
 hi the language of the day, and hence hesitation was 
 manifested. But the case was pressing, and in reply 
 to some remark, the applicant said that he " had been 
 forty years engaged in business, had never yet been 
 
472 CHARACTER. 
 
 charged with a dishonorable transaction, and had 
 never failed to make his obligations good." The bank 
 officer paused a moment longer, acknowledged the 
 truth of what had been said, and then conceded that 
 " such a plea was irresistible." The loan was secured, 
 business affairs brightened soon after, and all went 
 merry as a marriage bell. In this case, as in the for- 
 mer, character was depended upon as a last resort, 
 and it did not fail in the hour of emergency. Doubt- 
 less there are many readers who could cite similar 
 instances : and hence, as a general rule, the priceless 
 value of character. 
 
 On the other hand, how numerous are the cases in 
 which the tricky, the mercenary, the plausible, and 
 the unprincipled, find that they have lived but to 
 little purpose ; that the guile and hypocrisy which they 
 supposed had fully concealed their principles from 
 the world, were seen through as a hollow mask, and 
 all the deformity beneath was made distinct and ap- 
 parent! How often, in the hour of adversity, do the 
 base by nature, the selfish in disposition, and the 
 niggardly in spirit, discover that they are without 
 character, and that falsehood and evil will not serve 
 their purpose in the hour of peril. An instance of 
 this kind recently passed under our observation. An 
 individual who had accumulated considerable prop- 
 erty by trick and management, who was regarded as 
 "smart" in business affairs, who cared but little for 
 the means, so that the end was accomplished, and who 
 thus was distrusted as well as despised, suddenly dis- 
 covered that he had ventured too far in the field of 
 speculation, and that unless assisted, he must be des- 
 troyed. He called first upon one acquaintance, and 
 
 \ 
 
CHARACTER. 473 
 
 then upon another, tried one expedient, and then 
 another, resorted to every device in his power, but 
 all in vain. The fact was, he had impaired his char- 
 acter, and no one would trust him. He had been 
 guilty of dishonorable practices, had violated his 
 word repeatedly before, and the penalty was doubt, 
 discredit, and in the end, utter bankruptcy. He, in 
 fact, had overreached himself. His little schemes of 
 villainy had succeeded, and such success only tempted 
 him on from step to step, until at last he found him- 
 self beyond his depth, and then deserted, because no 
 one could or would rely upon him. 
 
 We have somewhere read a story of a young man, 
 who was arrested and tried for murder, and against 
 whom the circumstantial evidence was very strong, 
 but who was saved at last by the testimony of his 
 schoolmaster. He " had been a good boy, every way 
 truthful, trustworthy, and reliable;" and the jury 
 could not believe that one whose early years were so 
 bright and unsullied, could, so soon after attaining 
 the age of manhood, sink into guilt and crime. 
 " Train up a child in the way he should go, and when 
 he is old he will not depart from it," is an adage full 
 of practical wisdom. The importance of character in 
 every relation of life can scarcely be conceived by the 
 hasty and the inconsiderate. Nothing should be 
 guarded with more care, or watched with more un- 
 sleeping vigilance. The young cannot become too 
 earnestly impressed with these truths. Let them 
 start in life with an unsullied name and an irre- 
 proachable character, and the prospect before them 
 will be full of promise. But let them pursue another 
 course, and at the beginning pollute their lips with 
 
474 PECULIARITIES. 
 
 falsehood, and darken their fair fame with dishonor, 
 and they will thereafter toil on with difficulty; for 
 the ghosts of their early misdoings will track them 
 step by step, and whisper bitter and mocking memo- 
 ries of their early career. In the hour of trial, too, 
 there will be few to stand by them ; for he who reck- 
 lessly and wantonly sports with his own character, 
 strikes at and destroys his best friend. 
 
 Jealkities; or, J1I jrafet litfemitk 
 
 " He had strange ways — was odd, and singular." 
 
 AN intelligent friend contends that all men have 
 their peculiarities, and are more or less mono- 
 maniacs. He admits his own infirmities, but expresses 
 a hope that they partake of the amiable and the mild 
 rather than the malignant and the vicious, and he 
 therefore indulges the belief that, to a certain extent, 
 his errors are of a harmless character. Nothing hu- 
 man, indeed, is perfect. All have their frailties, and 
 their short-comings, and it very frequently happens, 
 that the very blemishes we see and complain of in 
 others, are those by which we ourselves are disfig- 
 ured, but to which we nevertheless are unconscious or 
 blind to. But is it true that all are more or less mono- 
 maniacs — that every member of the human family is 
 deluded and deceived to a certain extent, upon some 
 one subject? The position is startling at the first 
 
PECULIAKITIES. 475 
 
 blush, and yet it is not without a semblance of truth. 
 We cannot, in most cases, discover the fact in our- 
 selves, although there are many who know and admit 
 that they have tastes, habits, and prejudices, to which 
 they are in some sense slaves; which control and 
 master them with an irresistible power, and from which 
 they endeavor in vain to escape. At certain periods 
 they will wrestle and battle in the most vigorous 
 manner against their evil genius, and with apparent 
 success; and yet the effect will only be temporary. 
 The old habit will come back at some unexpected mo- 
 ment, and they will yield to it unconsciously. 
 
 But with others, the difficulty of discovering the 
 weakness and the vice is indeed great. It is curious, 
 but it is not the less true, that the faults and follies 
 of our neighbors are the ordinary themes of comment 
 and criticism, that others are ridiculed as monomaniacs 
 upon this subject or upon that, and are denounced 
 accordingly, while we cannot or will not see a simi- 
 larity in ourselves. There is scarcely an individual 
 who cannot single out from amongst his circle of ac- 
 quaintance, some one who is characterized by peculi- 
 arities so marked and strong as to render him eccentric. 
 If the error, habit, or infirmity be of an evil tendency, 
 so much the worse. If it be to defame, to denounce, 
 to abuse, and misrepresent, it is indeed censurable and 
 deplorable, and calculated to do much harm. And 
 that there are such persons with such habits, slanderers 
 by constitution, calumniators by monomania, is beyond 
 all question. 
 
 There are others, again, who run wild upon some 
 peculiar idea. They can think and talk of nothing 
 eise. Their minds and their hearts seem to have be- 
 
476 PECULIARITIES. 
 
 come absorbed in a delusion, a dream, or a prejudice, 
 and in this they indulge in season and out of season, and 
 without reference to discretion, common sense, or of 
 the ordinary rules of social life. They are enthusiasts, 
 zealots, nay, worse — monomaniacs. Every thing — 
 according to their doctrine — should yield to the one 
 great purpose. All other interests or considerations 
 should be forgotten ; and, infatuated for the time by 
 their peculiar idiosyncrasy, they can think of nothing 
 else, and frequently sacrifice themselves to an ignis 
 fatuus of the brain. 
 
 Even among the most illustrious men of ancient 
 and modern times, peculiarities, and often of a most 
 ridiculous kind, have been noticed. If, therefore, great 
 intellectual lights have been thus characterized, we 
 cannot be surprised that the comparatively feeble in 
 intellect should manifest similar infirmities. There 
 are, indeed, not a few individuals who in their ordinary 
 course of life are frank, manly, and generous, but who 
 nevertheless, in certain cases, are narrow, contracted, 
 and niggardly. They will spend thousands in par- 
 ticular kinds of pomp and display, and yet turn the 
 shivering beggar starving from the door. They will 
 invest large sums in public enterprises, and manifest 
 deep interest in patriotic movements, and yet they are 
 insensible to the appeals of real benevolence. They 
 have, by some false mode of reasoning, persuaded 
 themselves that all the unfortunate and the poor are 
 idle and dishonest, and they act upon this bitter and 
 heartless policy. This is, indeed, a deplorable descrip- 
 tion of monomania, for it not only deforms the char- 
 acter of the victim, but it misleads his judgment, 
 hardens his heart, and renders him a curse instead of 
 
 
PECULIAKITIES. 477 
 
 a blessing to society. We are acquainted with an in- 
 telligent and estimable citizen, who is a passionate 
 collector of all kinds of pamphlets, old and new. He 
 must have accumulated thousands and tens of thou- 
 sands — -more than he could read during a long life- 
 time. He is now in the " sere and yellow leaf," and 
 yet the passion is, if possible, more active than ever. 
 It is, of course, perfectly harmless, and we only men- 
 tion it by way of illustrating the general topic. 
 
 The moral of our philosophy is, that while we are 
 blind to, or unconscious of, our own errors in this 
 respect, we should be indulgent to those of others. We 
 should, at least, consider all the circumstances, and 
 not denounce harshly or hastily. And if, moreover, 
 we are exempt from, and have thus escaped any seri- 
 ous infirmity, if we have no particular vice or weak- 
 ness, no inveterate habit or bitter prejudice, if, in brief, 
 we know ourselves, and are capable of governing our 
 tastes, appetites, and passions, we should not only be 
 grateful to Providence, but endeavor to deal gener- 
 ously and forbearingly toward those who are less 
 fortunate in their moral, mental, and social temper, 
 composition, and constitution. Let us believe, more- 
 over, that we have some infirmity of the kind, which, 
 although not seen by our eyes, is visible to those of 
 others, and thus "do unto others as we would they 
 should do unto as." 
 
%\t fciaskh; or, W nnir fte fktans. 
 
 " Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour? 
 What though we wade in wealth or soar in fame ? 
 Earth's highest station ends in ' Here he lies !' 
 And ' dust to dust' concludes the noblest song." 
 
 IF, on looking over the bills of mortality, the real 
 causes of disease and death could be ascertained, 
 how many victims of toil, mental or physical, would 
 be discovered! The multitude seem to regard the 
 human machine, so to speak, as calculated for per- 
 petual motion, and as above and beyond the wear and 
 tear, the chances and changes to which the contriv- 
 ances of man are liable. And yet not a day goes by 
 in which this absurd theory is not exploded, in ,vhich 
 some one, aye, in which thousands are not summoned 
 to their last account ; thus proving that the connection 
 between the body and the soul, has ceased, that the 
 mortal has done its work, and that the life of man is 
 narrowed within a span. 
 
 But a few months have elapsed by since we entered 
 upon a new year. And yet how very brief a period 
 it appears to those who are able to look back and fix 
 their eyes even upon the commencement of the present 
 century! The intervening space seems within the 
 limits of a single glance. Nevertheless, during that 
 period, thousands and tens of thousands of the sons 
 and daughters of Adam have passed from the face of 
 the globe ; and there are but few, comparatively sp^ak 
 (478) • 
 
THE OVERTASKED. 479 
 
 mg, who commenced with the Dew century, who still 
 linger on in their earthly pilgrimage. The philoso- 
 phy of life, so frequently glanced at, the 'theme of so 
 many great minds and keen observers, is disregarded, 
 misunderstood, or too hastily considered. The masses 
 are too busy, too much occupied even to watch over 
 themselves. They rush on wildly, recklessly, im 
 providently, and often hasten their approach to the 
 Valley of the Shadow of Death. The great majority 
 overtask themselves, mentally as well as physically. 
 They toil, and strain, and strive, and find at last that 
 the vital powers are exhausted,* that the mental 
 stamina is gone, that the constitution is broken, and 
 that it is too late to recuperate. This is the case con- 
 stantly and with myriads. It is especially so in great 
 commercial cities, and in a country like ours, with so 
 many hopes, competitions, anxieties, and aspirations. 
 It is an ordinary spectacle to behold individuals who 
 are bowed with care and bent with age, still toiling on 
 as anxiously as ever, and thus exhausting, instead of 
 hoarding their impaired and feeble faculties. They 
 cannot, they will not see the ordinary limits of life, 
 and each imagines that his is ari exception to the gen- 
 eral rule, that he will prove particularly fortunate, 
 that the laws of life and death may not be applied to 
 him, that his mind and his body are superior to those 
 of ordinary men, and hence he will not be influenced 
 by the same liabilities. And thus he goes on from 
 day to day, indulging in this delusion, until at last 
 either the physical or mental machine gives way, 
 and he sinks never to rise again. But the lesson 
 thus inculcated, and the example so constantly pre- 
 sented, only arrest the attention for the moment. The 
 
4.80 THE OVERTASKED. 
 
 multitude hurry on, eager, anxious, and impatient, 
 forgetful that they are upon the same path, and are 
 liable to the same vicissitudes. A common-sense 
 view of the subject would induce the belief that at a 
 certain period of life, knowing the reverses to which 
 all are liable, more than ordinary care would be ex- 
 ercised in watching, strengthening, and protecting the 
 physical as well as the mental man ; that all unneces- 
 sary exposures would be avoided, and all exhausting 
 strains would be carefully guarded against. But such 
 is not the case. For some reason or other, which it 
 is difficult to understand, the powers are almost con- 
 stantly overtasked, and with consequences every way 
 deplorable. Those who have mingled much in pub- 
 lic life, seem never disposed to retire. And so with 
 the active spirits of the commercial and monetary 
 world. They become used to the excitements of the 
 day, and hence unwilling, even when health and com- 
 fort require, to seek a proper degree of repose. They 
 forget that the mind requires quite as much care as 
 the body, and although ethereal, it is delicate, and 
 the least shock or irregularity may disturb its har- 
 mony of motion, and snap its elastic springs. Ever 
 and anon, too, they are admonished, directly or in- 
 directly, by disease, by death, or by change of for- 
 tune ; but all in vain. They still toil on, restless and 
 impatient, eager and grasping. There are, it is true, 
 many who are compelled, by the force of necessity, to 
 labor constantly and incessantly. They cannot do 
 otherwise, even if so disposed. A pause to them is 
 indeed a period of enjoyment and delight. They 
 seize upon it eagerly, and feel refreshed and strength- 
 ened through its influence. But there are others 
 
THE OVERTASKED. 481 
 
 again who will not pause when they could and 
 should, who task their powers beyond their strength, 
 and who thus, if we may so speak, tempt the myste- 
 rious ways of Providence. They do not appreciate 
 the blessing of health, they are not grateful for the 
 advantages of fortune, and they are thus unworthy 
 recipients of the benefactions of the "Giver of all 
 that is good." How many are there at this moment 
 who have passed beyond an advanced condition of 
 life, and have accumulated an abundant independence, 
 but who, nevertheless, go daily into the highways 
 and byways of a thronged metropolis, become excited 
 with this speculation or that, and not only agitate 
 themselves unnecessarily, but risk and encounter ex- 
 posures which the more careful and the more thought- 
 ful, and even the younger, scrupulously avoid ! They 
 have enough, but they have become morbidly anx- 
 ious for a large fortune, and in grasping at the golden 
 bubble, they overtask their energies, and peril even 
 life itself. Ever and anon they determine to pursue 
 a more cautious course, and to withdraw from the 
 anxieties and vexations of the out-door world. But 
 year after year goes by, impairing their faculties, 
 bowing their form3, and still they are found at the 
 money mart, at the stock board, or in some other ex- 
 citing arena, as if some new lease of being had been 
 extended, and forgetful that they compare but as one 
 of a thousand of those who started together in the 
 race of fortune. The others have all been called away, 
 and their turn is surely at hand. Why then postpone 
 the hour of reflection, the season of thought, and the 
 period of repose? A little longer, and all will be 
 over with them. Why not devote that little to a re- 
 
482 FALSE IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 view of the past and a contemplation of the future r 
 Why seek to shorten the brief period that remains, 
 and by unnecessary efforts, overtask their powers, 
 and discover, when too late, that they are indeed old, 
 feeble, mortal, and tottering. In brief, why not, while 
 mind, and health, and vigor remain, indulge in acts 
 of justice, generosity, kindness, and good- will, and 
 thus not only sweeten and soften the closing hours 
 of this life, but brighten with hope, faith, and ex- 
 pectation, the morning of that which is to come ! 
 
 Jfalse Imgrasifltts; m, % little Enmities 
 of life. ■ 
 
 " He judged too harshly and was hence unjust." 
 
 IT frequently happens that individuals discover, after 
 years of estrangement and unkindness, that they 
 have imbibed an unfriendly feeling against another, 
 and have acted it out in various ways, and all because 
 of some gross misrepresentation or false impression. 
 In such cases the parties immediately concerned are 
 at first surprised and annoyed, but they postpone the 
 work of explanation from time to time, until at last 
 they are reluctant to enter upon it ; and thus the bad 
 feeling deepens and rankles, and the difficulty becomes 
 almost irreconcilable. The evil-minded and the foul- 
 tongued are, for the most part, the causes of all this 
 misapprehension and ill-will. They fabricate and 
 malign, and often in so subtle and artful a manner, 
 
FALSE IMPKESSIONS. 483 
 
 that their calumnies are believed, and hence produce 
 distrust, suspicion, coldness, and all their sad conse- 
 quences. It is lamentable for such results to take 
 place under any circumstances ; but when old friends 
 are thus imbittered and separated, when confidence is 
 impaired and hearts are lacerated, the wickedness of 
 the system may be adequately appreciated. How 
 often are the gentle ties that bind families together, 
 thus rudely ruptured, and jealousy and envy made to 
 take the places of disinterestedness and generosity! 
 When once ; too, a separation commences, it is sure 
 to be widened by the intermeddling and the malig- 
 nant ; for then, the parties not being in communion 
 together, may be slandered with comparative impu- 
 nity. It is, moreover, so easy to misrepresent, to ex- 
 aggerate, and to give a false coloring to what may have 
 been meant merely in jest, or uttered in a moment of 
 pique, that the evil-minded who delight in this species 
 of scandal and malignity, are consatntly afforded op- 
 portunities. Indeed, it is impossible to keep watch 
 and guard upon one's conversation at all times and 
 seasons ; and hence the malicious eaves-dropper or 
 curious scandal- monger is readily able to catch a word 
 here and there, and by perversion and misapplication, 
 to distort it into an offence where nothing of the kind 
 was intended. There are few individuals who have 
 not been annoyed for years by some unexplained and 
 incomprehensible estrangement, some coolness on the 
 part of a former friend that has puzzled, perplexed, 
 and annoyed. The error in all such cases consists in 
 not seeking an explanation at first, and thus removing 
 the false impression at the outset. It is an error, 
 however, that all indulge in, more or less. A sense 
 30 
 
484 FALSE IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 of false pride interferes with the discharge of a posi- 
 tive duty, and thus a misunderstanding, that might 
 have been arranged or explained within a few 
 minutes, is permitted to increase from day to day, and 
 from year to year, and with consequences at once 
 painful and deplorable. Little enmities are engen- 
 dered which deepen to serious feuds, and the difficulty 
 is, in after time, to ascertain the real origin of the 
 misunderstanding. Only a short time since we heard 
 a most estimable citizen express chagrin and mortifi- 
 cation that an acquaintance had passed him in the 
 street without speaking. He could not understand 
 the reason, and was unwilling to attribute it to acci- 
 dent ; but, as if to show the infirmity of poor human 
 nature, he at the same time avowed a determination to 
 retaliate! It is by such trifles and the exercise of such 
 a spirit, that the little enmities of social life are 
 created, that intimacies are disturbed, friendships are 
 weakened, and society is imbittered. Many people 
 will stubbornly refuse to make an explanation or an 
 apology, even after being satisfied that they have 
 done wrong. They thus not only commit an injus- 
 tice, but they adhere to and persist in it. False im- 
 pressions are of constant occurrence. They are some- 
 times made by a look, at others by an incident, at 
 others by a misrepresentation ; and unless explained 
 and corrected, they become stronger and stronger, 
 until at last they are fixed ineffaceably in the mind 
 and heart. Nevertheless, the wisest, the most care- 
 ful, and the most thoughtful are liable to be deceived. 
 No one should adopt an opinion hastily or rashly. 
 No one should turn away from a friend without being 
 satisfied of the justice of such a course. No one 
 
FALSE IMPRESSIONS. 485 
 
 should take for granted the representations of anether, 
 especially if calculated to darken the character of an 
 acquaintance, or to give a repulsive coloring to his 
 reputation, disposition, and general conduct. Who, 
 indeed, has not committed serious mistakes through 
 the agency of false impressions ? Who has not for 
 years pictured in the mind some particular individual, 
 and found, on closer acquaintance, that the view was 
 at once mistaken, erroneous, ungenerous, and unjust ? 
 Who has not, because of some strange prejudice, held 
 aloof, and absolutely avoided some member of society, 
 and found at last that his was a congenial spirit, and 
 that the impression that had beeD made, perhaps 
 through the agency of some trifling incident or some 
 heartless calumny, was every way incorrect ? A few 
 years since two gentlemen of this city happened to be 
 opposed to each other politically, and in the course 
 of an exciting canvass, each ventured to denounce the 
 opinons of the other in terms of much warmth and 
 severity. The effect was to annoy and enrage, and 
 thus, when they passed each other in the streets, they 
 either " looked daggers," or avoided the slightest re- 
 cognition. Soon after, by the merest accident, they 
 were' thrown together for days, and compelled, as it 
 were, to be on terms of ordinary civility. The result 
 was that they discovered that they had misunderstood 
 and mistaken each other; and while they frankly 
 confessed the error, the effect was a bond of friend- 
 ship and good- will that is likely to exist to the end 
 of their days. First impressions are generally re- 
 garded as of much importance ; but when based upon 
 misapprehension, misrepresentation, or direct false- 
 hood, and adopted thoughtlessly and hastily, they 
 30 
 
486 THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 
 
 should be considered as of doubtful value, and be 
 submitted to the talismanic influence of truth, knowl- 
 edge, and a more careful examination. The individ- 
 ual who, in the first place, mistakes another, and thus 
 adopts a false view of his character, commits not only 
 an injustice and a wrong ; but constantly acting upon 
 the error, is certain as well to mislead his own mind 
 as to misdirect the judgment of others. Beware, then, 
 gentle reader, beware of false impressions ! 
 
 \t Rattle of fife. 
 
 " The body may give out and so the mind." 
 
 ACELEBKATED writer contends that "serenity 
 of mind, together with mental discipline and 
 self- correction, are absolutely essential for length of 
 days." This is no doubt true in the general sense. 
 The battle OF life is constantly going on. Some- 
 times it is a physical struggle, and all the energies 
 are tasked, with the object of securing the means of 
 livelihood and independence. At others it is a men- 
 tal ; and, absorbed by one idea, we become so excited 
 thereby, and devoted thereto, that the strength of the 
 intellect is weakened, and its springs are snapped and 
 broken to pieces. The wrestles and conflicts which 
 constantly take place in "the working-day world," 
 not only in the walks of labor but in the marts of 
 commerce, task the faculties to the utmost. Not a 
 day goes by in which some one, exhausted pud 
 
THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 487 
 
 broken down, is not summoned to his final account. 
 He fights on manfully, until at last nature gives way, 
 and Death becomes the victor. In the circles of in- 
 dustry, and among the toiling millions, it is wisely 
 ordered that there is comparatively little thought for 
 the morrow. The present alone is cared for, and the 
 future does not annoy. Thus the day-laborer rises to 
 his task cheerfully in the morning, pursues it with a 
 light heart throughout the day, and is happy and con- 
 tented at the approach of nightfall. Let him but have 
 enough to do, and physical strength to do it, and he 
 is satisfied. But it often happens that it is otherwise 
 — that he has neither the employment, nor the ability 
 to discharge his ordinary avocations. And then the 
 battle OF life commences in earnest. The future 
 looms in the distance, anxiety and apprehension be- 
 come the constant guests of the mind, and these pic- 
 ture a thousand vicissitudes and. calamities, which un- 
 nerve, stimulate, intimidate — nay, madden. The 
 responsibilities of a family are then fully realized, and 
 the cares of life assume a sombre and a painful hue. 
 The ills of poverty are magnified a thousand fold, and 
 the languid and fainting spirit not only falters and 
 fails, but is disposed to yield to the gloomiest fancies 
 and forebodings. Often, too, the result is fatal. In- 
 stead of wrestling in a more resolute spirit than ever, 
 and appealing with confidence to Divine Providence, 
 the demons of despair are permitted to have their way, 
 and life itself is given up with scarce a struggle. This 
 is by no means the true policy. On the contrary, it 
 is the false as well as the cowardly. " Hope on — hope 
 ever !" should be the motto and the doctrine under all 
 such circumstances, and the effort should be to strug- 
 
4-S8 THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 
 
 
 gle through the worst, in the expectation of better and 
 "brighter days. Adversity is often but the test of our 
 nature. It tries us sorely, but if we persevere, the 
 triumph is almost certain. And there are mental 
 struggles, which often exhaust and overwhelm, even 
 more speedily than physical. Not a few of the 
 sons of men permit themselves to give way to un- 
 necessary anxieties. They become ambitious, and if 
 they cannot gratify all their desires, they grow dis- 
 contented and miserable. They may be in the en- 
 joyment of a thousand blessings, and yet they lack 
 some one thing, and for this they will sacrifice content- 
 ment, health, comfort, and even life itself. They be- 
 come " seized of and possessed" of some " one idea" — 
 vain, visionary, and absurd — and yet it will master, con- 
 trol, subdue, and finally overwhelm them. There are, 
 indeed, more diseases of the mind than the hasty ob- 
 server is disposed to imagine. There are few, in fact, 
 who are not more or less affected in this way. Only 
 a year or two ago, a gentleman of high character in 
 this city, who was surrounded with almost every com- 
 fort and luxury, became impressed with a notion that 
 he had been maltreated by a certain Corporation. He 
 immediately determined to wage an unceasing war 
 against its members, and in so doing he became deeply 
 excited, so much so as to be thoroughly absorbed in 
 the investigation, and to the neglect of almost every 
 other pursuit. In brief, the matter soon degenerated 
 into a mental malady; and thus he not only annoyed 
 himself but others, and in the end materially shortened 
 his days. He died suddenly, and, as many of his 
 friends believed, a victim to the excitement referred 
 to! But cases of this kind are by no means rare. 
 
THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 489 
 
 The battle of life is a fearful one, and it requires 
 all our vigilance even to wrestle with success 
 against the ordinary vicissitudes to which all are 
 more or less liable. When we undertake too much, 
 the responsibility is great. Many an individual, lack- 
 ing moral courage, has been prostrated by a single 
 blow of misfortune. Others have experienced reverse 
 after reverse, have struggled on again and again, and 
 have finally achieved a signal success. There is 
 scarcely a being, even of middle age, whose earthly 
 career has not been more or less checkered by storm 
 and sunshine, by adversity and prosperity. The true 
 policy is to exercise as much prudence as possible, 
 and yet to be prepared for a reverse. All is not lost 
 while integrity remains ; and although it is too much 
 the disposition of mankind to look coldly upon the 
 unsuccessful and the unfortunate, yet there are many 
 appreciating spirits, many who are truly generous and 
 benevolent, and who may be depended on with confi- 
 dence in the hour of misfortune. The struggle with 
 the world is often disheartening, and requires the ex- 
 ercise of all the energies of our nature — moral, mental, 
 and physical. But to be true to ourselves, we must 
 put forward those energies whenever necessary, and 
 then, with a confident reliance upon Providence, not 
 only anticipate, but deserve a better and brighter future. 
 t 
 
,-ffibt Mai sift % Jitsraess 
 MA 
 
 ' A kindly air, a gentlemanly bow, 
 And all the forms of sweet civility. 
 
 IT is an easy thing to be civil ; and although, in the 
 language of the old proverb, " fine words butter no 
 parsnips," they frequently, nay, almost invariably, 
 have a kindly effect, and influence the mind as well as 
 the heart. Nevertheless, there are certain persons who 
 go through the world as if determined never to utter 
 a civil phrase, never to do a civil turn. They are 
 naturally rough, harsh, peevish, and dissatisfied ; and 
 even when appealed to in matters of business, they 
 will indulge in such a spirit and assume such an air, 
 as to make the intercourse cold, formal, and repulsive. 
 A sad mistake in every point of view. All of us are 
 more or less dependent upon civility. It softens and 
 sweetens the intercourse between man and man, — it 
 breaks down barriers and impediments that would 
 otherwise exist, — it appeals to the higher and more re- 
 fined qualities of our nature, and it bespeaKs not 
 only intelligence and polish, but clearness of head and 
 goodness of heart. A man of the world, one who has 
 traveled, or enjoyed the advantages of a thorough edu- 
 cation, and especially a gentleman, is rarely uncivil. 
 To be so, is to be rude, discourteous, and insulting. 
 Nothing indeed is more agreeable, nothing more fas- 
 1490) 
 
CIVILITY. 491 
 
 cinating, and nothing better calculated to secure an 
 easy path in life or society, whether in the social or the 
 business world, than unwavering civility. It touches 
 many a heart, it impresses ma^y a mind, it removes 
 many an obstacle, and while it is calculated to gratify 
 the thousands it can offend no one. 
 
 The man of finished manners and elegant taste, of 
 cultivated mind and gentlemanly instincts, is civil, not 
 only to the millionaire, the banker, and the merchant, 
 but to the mechanic and day-laborer, and even the 
 beggar who knocks at his door. He respects himself, 
 and hence he respects the feelings of others. He looks 
 for kindness and good- will at the hands of his fellow- 
 creatures, and he manifests these qualities himself. 
 He may have his errors and infirmities, his prejudices 
 and his passions, his follies and his excitements. But, 
 at all times and occasions, his language and his man- 
 ners are civil ; or if having unwittingly committed an 
 offence against propriety, he is the first to apologize, 
 and to make the amende honorable. A notable illus- 
 tration of this fact occurred a short time since. Two 
 gentlemen, intimate friends, who had engaged in an 
 argument, gradually warmed and became excited, and 
 in the heat of the moment both forgot the lessons and 
 practices of propriety by which their conduct was gen- 
 erally governed. A harsh phrase was uttered by one, 
 and Replied to with equal severity by the other, until, 
 for a brief time, they seemed like enemies rather than 
 friends, and were about to proceed to blows. But 
 both apparently recovered themselves at the same in- 
 stant, immediately took back every thing unkind that 
 had been uttered, apologized to each other and to all 
 who were present, in a generous and gentlemanly 
 
492 * CIVILITY. 
 
 strain, and thus all was well again. The system of 
 civility and propriety in which they were educated, and 
 to which, for years, they had been accustomed, was 
 found to be far more potent than any temporary ebul- 
 lition of passion, and thus its manifestation at a criti- 
 cal moment was every way commendable and gratify- 
 ing. The habit of incivility, if it had been indulged 
 and become fixed with either of the individuals alluded 
 to, would no doubt have led to the most unpleasant 
 consequences. It is bad enough to meet with a rough 
 and fretful spirit in the every-day affairs of life. But 
 to have such a direct antagonist in an argument, and 
 upon an exciting subject, is every way painful to one 
 whose feelings are manly and generous, and whose 
 temper is kindly and courteous. A few days since, a 
 western merchant visited Philadelphia, for the purpose 
 of securing a stock of very valuable goods. He had 
 traveled a long distance, had suffered considerably 
 from illness, and was rather rough in his appearance, 
 but not so in his language or manner. He stepped 
 into one of our leading houses, and saw one of the 
 principals, to whom he addressed a few common-place 
 questions connected with business affairs generally. 
 It so happened that the other was engaged with an- 
 other customer, and was, to all appearances, somewhat 
 out of temper. Certain it is, that his replies were 
 abrupt, indecorous, and uncivil ; so much so, that the 
 western merchant, who knew and appreciated his 
 position, felt annoyed and wounded, and promptly 
 withdrew. He immediately crossed over the street to 
 another house in the same line, and before he left, 
 made purchases to the extent of twenty thousand 
 dollars. The fact was soon discovered by the un- 
 
CIVILITY. 493 
 
 civil dealer, that lie had offended one of the most 
 influential customers to Philadelphia! Bat we need 
 not multiply illustrations. They will be found daily 
 and hourly in almost every walk of life. The inexpe- 
 rienced, the inflated, and the pampered are too often 
 among the uncivil. It frequently occurs that a worth- 
 less adventurer is elevated by some extraordinary turn 
 of fortune into a post of profit and honor, when, intoxi- 
 cated by his new position, he forgets all his antecedents, 
 and violates all the proprieties and courtesies of life. 
 He thus renders himself at once an object of contempt 
 and derision, and although he may play the despot 
 and the boor for a short time, he is certain, sooner or 
 later, to be toppled from his unsuited elevation, and 
 to sink, if possible, lower than ever. Civility is not 
 only one of the virtues, but it is one of the essentials 
 of social and refined life. It cannot be cultivated 
 too sedulously. We should, as much as possible, en- 
 deavor to engraft its spirit upon the young, and thus 
 render it a feature and an embellishment of character. 
 The effect cannot but be salutary. If this quality be 
 calculated to adorn and dignify age, what a grace and 
 a polish will it impart to the ingenuousness of youth. 
 It at once softens and refines, elevates and beautifies. 
 Often, too, it opens the road to prosperity, and leads 
 the way to conquest and power. With the sterner sex 
 it has a magic and a charm, and with the gentler it is 
 almost irresistible. 
 
%n dJgett to f ik---% f alics of 
 "jSMmg to fceijjrag." 
 
 " A purpose choose, and then pursue it well." 
 
 IN the course of a conversation held a few days 
 since, an old and experienced merchant alluded in 
 highly complimentary terms to a young friend, and 
 in conclusion remarked — " He possesses many noble 
 qualities, but unfortunately lie will not stick to any 
 thing. In other words, he is fickle, changeable, and 
 unsteady. He has no fixed purpose in life. He is in 
 pursuit of one object to-day and another to-morrow." 
 And this is the case with hundreds. They possess 
 talent, genius, tact, readiness, wit, but they lack the 
 great essentials of steadiness, determination, and per- 
 severance. One year they try one pursuit, and another 
 another. At one time they are enthusiasts in relation 
 to some particular profession or avocation ; and then, 
 lo ! as sudden as thought, they change and devote all 
 their energies to something else. Can it be wondered 
 at, that such fickle and uncertain persons are un- 
 successful? Much of the art of success consists in 
 steadiness and perseverance. There are many men 
 with fine talents, who could have attained eminence 
 in almost any pursuit had they followed it closely, 
 constantly, and earnestly. But having attempted a 
 dozen undertakings, and thus divided their time and 
 attention, failure was inevitable. A regular employ- 
 (494) 
 
AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 495 
 
 ment and steadiness of purpose are especially essential 
 to the young, nay, to all who mingle with mankind. 
 The men of fortune are, for the most part, those who 
 became so through inheritance, or by patience, perse- 
 verance, and an unwavering determination to over- 
 come the ordinary difficulties of life. And hence the 
 necessity of a regular trade or avocation. It, in the 
 first place, induces habits of industry; and in the 
 second, schools the mind and the energies; and in 
 most cases directs them in a proper channel. On 
 looking over the annals of our public institutions, it 
 will be found that the great majority of those who go 
 astray, are young men who never had any regular 
 trade or occupation, and who, therefore, were without 
 a direct means of livelihood and independence. Thus, 
 on reference to the first Eeport of the Trustees of the 
 Maine State Reform School, we perceive that of one 
 hundred and seventeen received during the year, 
 ninety -seven were idle or had no steady employment. 
 The fact is pregnant with admonition. It illustrates 
 the whole subject in the most striking manner. The 
 individual, moreover, who does not acquire habits of 
 industry, patience, and perseverance in early life, will 
 seldom attain them thereafter. The epitaph of many 
 a ruined young man, might with propriety be — " Alas ! 
 he would not stick to any thing." 
 
 Who, indeed, constitute the genteel vagabonds — 
 nay, the great majority of the criminals of the day ? 
 Individuals who commenced wrong, who had bad ex- 
 amples before them ; who were led to believe that to 
 be genteel was to be dissolute ; and who thus went on, 
 step by step, until they found that character was 
 lost with their means, and that they were com- 
 
496 AN OBJECT IN LIFE. 
 
 pelled by necessity to resort to some dangerous expe- 
 dient. It is, indeed, difficult to resist the fascinations 
 of vice in a great city like this. The moral effort re- 
 quired is extraordinary. Hence the danger of idleness, 
 and the necessity of occupation. Hence the policy, 
 the wisdom, nay, the absolute necessity of steadiness 
 of purpose and regularity of employment. All who 
 desire success, should "stick to something." They 
 should have some object in life. If we cannot get a 
 business to suit us exactly, we should decide upon the 
 next best. Almost any occupation is better than none ; 
 arid when we have once determined upon a course, 
 let us pursue it, not only with activity, but with en- 
 ergy and determination. The adage is old and famil- 
 iar, that " a rolling stone gathers no moss," but it is 
 pithy and to the purpose in this connection. The in- 
 constant, the uncertain, the fickle, and the unsteady 
 are seldom true, either to themselves or to others. 
 They trifle with destiny, and destroy their own pros- 
 pects. No one who knows them will enter into an 
 important compact with them, because of the fear of 
 change, and the dangers connected therewith. The 
 illustrations may be seen in every department of 
 life and society. They are of almost daily occurrence. 
 Hundreds are at this moment wasting the most pre- 
 cious hours of their lives in idle speculations, vague 
 pursuits and uncertain employments, simply because 
 they have no determination, no object, no energy or 
 perseverance. There are others again, and not a few, 
 who prefer doing nothing, not only for days, but for 
 weeks, months, and years, rather than venture upon a 
 path that does not seem exactly congenial to their 
 taste. The result is, that by this system they unfit 
 
UNEQUAL MARRIAGES. 497 
 
 tnemselves for all employment. They become inert 
 and indolent, lose every thing like enterprise and ambi- 
 tion, and unconsciously descend, step by step, in the 
 social ranks of life, until at last they find themselves 
 contemned, despised, and even lost to all sense of self- 
 respect. We repeat — occupation, steady and regular, 
 a trade, profession, or avocation, an object in life, to- 
 gether with patience, perseverance, energy and deter- 
 mination, — are not only absolutely essential to success, 
 but rarely fail to secure it. In brief, there must be 
 some purpose, some system, some determination. 
 Otherwise the highest talents, the richest fancy, and 
 the most dazzling intellect, will prove comparatively 
 useless. In the language of the celebrated Dr. Johnson 
 — " Negligence and irregularity long continued, will 
 render knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius 
 contemptible." 
 
 ' By kindness, the wolf and the zebra become docile as the spaniel and the hone ; 
 The kite feedeth with the starling, under the law of kindness : 
 That law shall tame the fieroest, bring down the battlements of pride, 
 Cherish the weak, control the strong, and win the fearful spirit. 
 Be obeyed when thou commandest ; but command not often : 
 Let thy carriage be the gentleness of love, not the stern front of tyranny." 
 
 A BOSTON journalist, in noticing the many com- 
 plaints that are uttered in relation to what are 
 called " unequal marriages," says that " circumstances" 
 frequently " alter cases," and make such marriages de- 
 cidedly right. This is doubtless true. And yet a 
 
498 UNEQUAL MARRIAGES. 
 
 great disparity of age is by no means calculated to 
 assist connubial felicity, or to render home that haven 
 of peace and asylum from the inquietudes of the world, 
 which the ministering spirits at its sacred altars should 
 endeavor to make it. Nevertheless, we can well 
 imagine cases of matrimonial harmony where the 
 wife is several years older than the husband; while 
 within our own immediate circle of acquaintance, we 
 could point out dozens of happy illustrations, in which 
 the disparity is far greater on the other side, the gen- 
 tleman being the senior by ten — sometimes fifteen 
 years, and even more. The Boston journalist is right. 
 " Circumstances alter cases." The health, the disposi- 
 tion, the temper, are matters of the utmost importance. 
 Some one has said that u age is not determined by 
 years — that there are old maids of eighteen, and young 
 maids of forty and fifty ; that there are many men of 
 sixty as young as others of thirty. That spirit is 
 youth, and the want of it is age." This view is, per- 
 haps, rather extravagant ; but it nevertheless conveys 
 the true idea. We have known men who were old — 
 prematurely old — that is to say, broken down in spirit, 
 dissatisfied with the world, morose in disposition, 
 discontented, unhappy and uncompanionable at the 
 age of forty ; while we have known others, again, who 
 were full of vivacity, cheerfulness and good-nature at 
 as advanced an age as sixty. These, then, are some 
 of the facts and circumstances that deserve considera- 
 tion when we speak of unequal marriages, and allude 
 more particularly to a difference of ages. But for a 
 young girl in the blush of beauty, gay of heart, ani- 
 mated in disposition and fond of society, to marry one 
 double her age, and one, too, repulsive by habit, person, 
 
UNEQUAL MARRIAGES. 49 if 
 
 or manner, peevish and fretful, is indeed monstrous. 
 Such violations of the law of nature too often spring 
 from mercenary objects on the one side, delusion and 
 dotage on the other, and seldom result in good. Both 
 parties are compelled to live in a condition of constant 
 falsehood ; to practice deceit from day to day ; or if not, 
 to drag on in a life of discord and strife suited to em- 
 bitter every hour of existence. Such marriages are 
 sinful in the eye of Heaven. 
 
 In many cases, too — and here a terrible responsibility 
 devolves upon parents — young and inexperienced 
 girls, who know little of the world, and less perhaps 
 of the depth and strength of their own affections, are 
 persuaded into marriages as mere matters of conve- 
 nience, pride, or ambition — because the match is a 
 good one — in brief, because the suitor, although 
 greatly the senior, is rich. Alas ! how frightful the 
 reality when, the delusion passed away, the wretched 
 woman finds herself bound for life to a being she can- 
 not, she never did love. When, too, as her character 
 developes, and nature speaks through her affections, 
 how appalling the consciousness that the refined, puri- 
 fying, and elevating emotions of mutual regard cannot 
 be enjoyed by her! What can compensate for so 
 deplorable a mistake ? How can money weigh for a 
 moment in the balance with emotion ? How wearily 
 must time pass on ! And the future — it must seem 
 only the more gloomy, because within its depths are 
 seen the wrecks of hope, of youth, and of affection. 
 But even in such cases, if the husband be true to him- 
 self and to duty — if he be patient, faithful, and devoted 
 — if he understand human nature and the gentle sus- 
 ceptibilities of woman's heart, he may accomplish 
 31 
 
500 UNEQUAL MARRIAGES 
 
 much. If he cannot secure her love, he may at least 
 win her esteem and respect, and soften and brighten 
 the path before her. It is rare, indeed, that the gentle 
 nature of the milder sex cannot be subdued and mel- 
 lowed by kindness, attention, and assiduity. A watch- 
 fulness as to the wants and tastes, and a prompt com- 
 pliance with the wishes of the fair one, will in most 
 cases accomplish much. There are few natures, in- 
 deed, able to resist steady kindness, unremitting atten- 
 tion, persevering manifestations of regard. Thus, 
 then, when two find themselves wedded for better or 
 worse, whose ages differ widely — when they realize 
 the painful truth that their tastes are not congenial — 
 that they took the serious step under a false impression, 
 were misled or deluded — the husband, if the senior, as 
 is generally the case, may still greatly repair the error 
 by a determination to win, even after marriage, what 
 he supposed he had conquered before. The heart 
 must be hard indeed, that will not yield to the un- 
 tiring tenderness and attentions of another, especially 
 when the agency of these qualities is assisted by the 
 requirements of duty. 
 
 Of the thousands of marriages which take place 
 from year to year, there are doubtless a large number 
 which have their origin in other feelings and objects 
 than those connected with reciprocity of tastes and 
 affection. In some cases the courtship is too brief; 
 in others the game of deceit is played so successfully 
 on both sides, that the real characters of the parties 
 are only discovered after the knot is tied. In others 
 again, the gentle and yielding lover is soon converted 
 into a harsh and tyrant husband — or the angel maid 
 into a violent, termagant wife. But these are errors 
 
A LITTLE CONSIDERATION. 50.1 
 
 and disappointments which may be measurably cor 
 rected, if the parties will only take themselves to task 
 calmly and quietly, determined to bear and forbear, 
 and resolved to realize, as far as possible, in the mar- 
 ried state, the beings they personated with success 
 during their days of courtship. Even the in- 
 equalities of age will be forgotten, in some measure at 
 least, before kindness, cheerfulness, and attention ; for 
 as already argued, there are few hearts that will not 
 yield to devotion, to tenderness, good-nature and un- 
 wavering affection. At least the policy is worth the 
 trial ; and therefore we commend it heartily to all who 
 have married in haste, or who have failed to realize in 
 the sober second thought of wedded life, the sunny 
 dream of their halcyon days of courtship. 
 
 " It is not much the world can give, 
 
 With all its subtle art, 
 And gold or gems are not the things 
 
 To satisfy the heart ; 
 But, oh, if those who cluster round 
 
 The altar and the hearth 
 Have gentle words and loving smiles, 
 
 How baautiful is earth." 
 
 % little Consiberatkt. 
 
 "Consideration like an angel came." 
 
 THEEE are few persons, who have had any expe- 
 rience in life, who cannot, on reviewing the past, 
 point to occasions when a little consideration 
 
 would have saved them much anxiety. The difficulty, 
 31 
 
502 A LITTLE CONSIDERATION. 
 
 however, is to keep cool, to avoid mental excitement, 
 and to exercise a generous spirit toward the infirmities 
 of others. All have errors and frailties to some extent, 
 and all are affected more or less by education, by 
 habit, by health, or by circumstances. If, therefore, 
 we make up a hasty judgment without reflection or 
 consideration — if we speak first and then think after- 
 ward, the chances are fifty to one, that we will com- 
 mit serious mistakes, and inflict unneccessary pain. 
 There is scarcely a condition of life, a profession or an 
 occupation, in which a little consideration may not be 
 exhibited with advantage. And this language will 
 apply not only at home, in the domestic circle, but 
 abroad and in the out-door world, — not only with 
 parents, guardians, and teachers, but with employers, 
 and all in authority. 
 
 Man is too apt to play the tyrant, when elevated to 
 a position of power. He is too disposed to forget his 
 antecedents, to lose sight of his own early career and 
 struggles, and to view with a harsh and unjust judg- 
 ment all who either from inability or any other cause, 
 do not immediately respond to his opinions and carry 
 out his wishes. He has no consideration for the er- 
 rors and infirmities of human nature; but hasty, im- 
 petuous, and despotic, he is often rash, ungenerous and 
 cruel. There is a class of individuals who lack con- 
 sideration in an eminent degree. We allude to the 
 bores, the idlers, and the hangers-on, who either un- 
 willing to labor themselves, or unable to obtain em- 
 ployment, have no thought for the condition of others, 
 but intrude upon them at all times and seasons, vol- 
 unteer their opinions unasked, introduce improper 
 subjects of conversation, and absolutely attempt to 
 
A LITTLE CONSJDEKATIOST. 503 
 
 dictate in matters of business. They have no thought, 
 no reflection, and hence no consideration. They thus 
 not only lack common sense, but ordinary propriety. 
 At moments that are critical and important to others, 
 they will offer some light remark, or indulge in some 
 silly speculation, forgetful of courtesy and dignity, 
 and in violation of good breeding. 
 
 How many homes have been made miserable for 
 the want of a little consideration? How many hus- 
 bands and wives, who might have been contented and 
 happy, have been estranged and made wretched? 
 How many fathers have destroyed the confidence, and 
 lost the affections of their children ? Nay, scarcely a 
 day goes by in which a want of consideration is not seen. 
 The would-be gentleman, who fancies that the acme 
 of human felicity is to drive a fast horse, seldom thinks 
 of the condition of the poor beast. So, too, in the 
 humbler ranks, with the drayman and the cabman. 
 There are, it is true, exceptions, but in the great mul- 
 titude of cases, the exertion and suffering of the ani- 
 mal are not for a moment taken into consideration, 
 especially if some mercenary object can be accom- 
 plished. The employer, too, who overtasks his work- 
 men, or the lady-housekeeper who exacts too much 
 from her domestic, the schoolmaster who asks impos- 
 sibilities from his pupil — all lose sight of the great 
 virtue of consideration. Our general idea is, that in 
 seeking the accomplishment of some selfish object, we 
 should not forget or disregard the condition, the ca- 
 pacity, and the circumstances of others. We should 
 appreciate their opportunities and antecedents, and at 
 once exercise a liberal and forbearing judgment 
 All are not endowed with like faculties, and all have 
 
504 A LITTLE CONSUMMATION. 
 
 not enjoyed the same advantages. What, therefore, 
 may be easy to one, may be difficult to another. There 
 are few, moreover, who have not peculiar foibles, in- 
 firmities, and prejudices. These have grown day by 
 day, until they have become features of character, 
 identified as it were, and intermingled with the moral, 
 social, intellectual, and physical nature. Surely then 
 some allowance should be made— some consideration 
 should be exercised. We should at least deal gently 
 with these defects and errors, and manifest a little 
 thought and feeling. There are few who do not re- 
 quire a like forbearance and magnanimity in relation 
 to themselves. We repeat — nothing human is perfect ; 
 and we are wonderfully apt to magnify the vanities, 
 the excesses, the errors and the vices of our neighbors 
 and our friends, while we, at the same time, are blind 
 to our own infirmities. Nay, we fancy that while all 
 is distinct and palpable in others, our own little vices 
 are wholly concealed. A sad mistake, and one that is 
 apt not only to mislead, but to involve us in diffi- 
 culties. The better, the wiser, the more magnanimous 
 policy, is to recognize the truth that we are defective 
 ourselves, that we have weaknesses and frailties — 
 that human nature, even in its highest condition, is full 
 of selfishness, and that hence it is but fair and right 
 to exercise A little consideration with regard to 
 the short-comings of others. 
 
% iesatg of Cnt% 
 
 " Truth, ever lovely since the world began, 
 The foe of tyrants — and the friend of man ; 
 Or high or low, or rich or poor, we call, 
 The good of each rests in the good of all." 
 
 WE fear that a large portion of tlie rising genera- 
 tion do not attach sufficient importance to 
 truth and its influence upon character. They indulge 
 in all sorts of extravagant misrepresentations; and 
 when these are discovered, they endeavor to laugh 
 them off as mere matters of jest, in other words, they 
 mistake falsehood for wit; and thus not only injure 
 others, but mislead themselves. The infirmity is one 
 that has been alluded to again and again, but it can- 
 not be denounced too earnestly or too frequently. 
 Truth is one of the brightest and purest of the moral 
 jewels of our nature. It not only illustrates, but it 
 adorns and dignifies. It is indeed invaluable in almost 
 every aspect in which it may be considered. The true 
 man, one whose word may always be relied upon, is 
 deservedly esteemed and respected by all who know 
 him, and the weight of his opinion cannot but exercise 
 a high moral influence in every intelligent circle. It 
 has been well and wisely contended, that " truth lies 
 at the very foundation of the really virtuous character." 
 It is the keystone of the arch. It inspires confidence ; 
 and in its absence, every other element of purity is de- 
 prived of a portion of its beauty and its strength. No 
 
 (505) 
 
503 THE BEAUTY OF TRUTH. 
 
 truly great or good man ever lived, in whom this trait 
 was not prominent. 
 
 Truth is the brightest jewel in the young man's 
 crown. He that is unwilling to prevaricate, to mis- 
 represent, to garble, to pervert — he that scorns to de- 
 ceive, and with a modest frankness and a manly 
 firmness always speaks the simple truth, commends 
 himself at once to the respect' and admiration of the 
 truly wise and virtuous. An individual may be a 
 perfect novice in business, may not possess brilliant 
 talents, may be awkward in person and unpolished in 
 manners, but let it be known that he is a truthful 
 man, that there is no deception, no falsehood about 
 him, that he comes directly to the mark in all he says, 
 and that his word is never to be doubted, and he will 
 have a sure passport to the confidence of the commu- 
 nity. And he who can command confidence, can also 
 command success. On the other hand, let an individ- 
 ual be attractive in person, accomplished in manners, 
 marked by energy, enterprise, talent, and tact ; but let 
 him, at the same time, be addicted to falsehood, and 
 the effect will be to create distrust, excite suspicion, 
 to destroy hopes, and to impair prospects. The 
 young, who are about to enter into the active pursuits 
 of the world, and thus to carve out for themselves 
 character as well as fortune, should remember these 
 p acts. They should avoid, as something calculated to 
 curse them throughout life, a habit of misrepresenta- 
 tion, exaggeration, and falsehood. Even in jest the truth 
 should be adhered to ; but, alas ! how often is it other- 
 wise ! How many persons indulge, day after day, in 
 the silly practice of uttering falsehood, half in jest and 
 half in earnest, and of thus perplexing, misleading, and 
 
THE BEAUTY OF TRUTH. 507 
 
 confusing individuals who are conscientious and man 
 ly, and who cannot understand the wit of lying. 
 
 It is a sad mistake in the young, as well as the old, 
 to concoct scandal, circulate misrepresentation, and 
 utter untruth, in the silly notion that such a policy is 
 smart. It is, on the contrary, not only weak but 
 vicious. The effect, too, is to excite a general distrust, 
 and thus, even when the truth is uttered, the listener 
 remembers the authority, and seeks for corroboration 
 in some other quarter. The old fable of the Boy and 
 the Wolf is familiar, and is as full of meaning as of 
 moral. The wisest are liable to be deceived once or 
 twice by a plausible falsehood, but thereafter, they are 
 not only apt to manifest caution, but to exhibit incre- 
 dulity and scorn. How priceless is truth in the 
 family circle — among parents and children, relatives 
 and friends ? We could pardon almost any offence 
 in the young, except the habit of deceiving and falsi- 
 fying. With such a habit it is impossible to imagine 
 what has taken place. Unpleasant discoveries are con- 
 stantly occurring, and we are made to live in a state of 
 continual anxiety and apprehension. 
 
 We remember that some years since, a young lady 
 and gentleman of a neighboring city became extremely 
 intimate, and after paying various attentions, the latter 
 made an offer of his hand and heart. He was ques- 
 tioned as to his former history by the guardian of the 
 lady, and especially in relation to a particular cir- 
 cumstance. Instead of stating the facts as they were, 
 and there was nothing particularly serious in the 
 matter, he was prompted by his evil genius of the 
 hour to make a deliberate misrepresentation. Within 
 the same week the falsity of his story was discovered, 
 
508 THE BEAUTY OF TRUTH. 
 
 and the effect was to dismiss him at once from the 
 confidence and esteem as well of the lady as her friends. 
 They could not rely on one who, at such a moment, 
 and under such circumstances, would so strangely at- 
 tempt to deceive ! And still more recently an individ- 
 ual who, in a moment of necessity and temptation, 
 had committed an offence, called upon a gentleman of 
 this city for asistance. The latter had an indistinct- 
 recollection of the facts of the case and in the kindest 
 spirit named the circumstances, and asked if he, the 
 applicant, was the party implicated. The reply was 
 in the negative. He denied the story from first to 
 last, and fixed it upon another. Soon after, however, 
 a sense of conscience and of right prevailed ; he came 
 forward, admitted all the facts, and said that a feeling 
 of shame had induced him for a moment to violate 
 a holy principle. This was the more to be regretted, 
 for had he uttered the truth at first, the effect would 
 not have been injurious to him in the slightest degree, 
 for in fact he was known to be the man. Still his 
 prompt admission and regretful explanation had the 
 effect of restoring the confidence which otherwise must 
 have been materially weakened, if not wholly de- 
 stroyed. But the intelligent and observing reader 
 iloes not require illustrations. He must know that 
 without truth there can be no confidence, no trust, no 
 iidelity, and little happiness. What, too, can be more 
 terrible — what more base — than by a series of false 
 statements, hollow professions, and artful acts, to win 
 the esteem, the respect, and the love of a fellow-being, 
 and then, by tearing the mask away, reveal the mon- 
 sters of Deceit and Falsehood in all their deformity ! 
 
 THE END. 
 

 

 
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