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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16802-8.txt b/16802-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..05d50fc --- /dev/null +++ b/16802-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3493 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Ladies' Vase, by An American Lady + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Ladies' Vase + Polite Manual for Young Ladies + + +Author: An American Lady + + + +Release Date: October 4, 2005 [eBook #16802] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES' VASE*** + + +E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Julia Miller, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +Transcriber's Note: Printer's errors from the original book, such as + inconsistent hyphenation and missing punctuation, + have been retained in this version of the text. + A list of these errors is located at the end of + the text. + + + + + +THE LADIES' VASE; + +Or, Polite Manual for Young Ladies. + +Original and Selected + +by + +AN AMERICAN LADY + +Eighth Edition. + +Hartford: +H. S. Parsons and Co. + +Stereotyped by +Richard H. Hobbs. +Hartford, Conn. + +1849 + + + + + + + +PREFACE. + + +So many volumes have already appeared before the public, similar in +character to this little work, that it is with feelings of diffidence we +bring our humble offering, especially when we consider the rich merit +possessed by many of its predecessors. But our apology must be found in +the fact that these publications are, from their size, and consequent +expense, inaccessible to many of the class whose improvement they are so +well adapted to promote. Considering the formation of female character +and manners a matter of inestimable importance, especially at the +present age, swayed as it is by moral rather than by physical force, we +have carefully availed ourselves of the best advice of some of our most +judicious writers on female education; and, by presenting our work in a +cheaper form than any of this class which is now before the public, hope +to render it attainable to all those for whom it is especially designed. + +_April 16, 1847._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +POLITENESS, 7 +TRUE AND FALSE POLITENESS, 9 +IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANNERS, 13 +SELF-POSSESSION, 16 +GOOD COMPANY, 19 +FRIENDSHIP, 21 +KINDRED HEARTS, 28 +CONVERSATION, 30 +EXAGGERATION, 34 +EGOTISM, 37 +GENTLENESS, 44 +SISTERLY VIRTUES, 46 +HOME, 49 +FIRESIDE INFLUENCE, 51 + { THE TEETH, 54 +PERSONAL APPEARANCE, { THE HAIR, 57 + { THE HANDS, 59 +DRESS, 61 +COMPRESSION OF THE LUNGS, 64 +LETTER-WRITING, 68 +MUSIC, 71 +FLOWERS, 73 +TIME, 76 +NOVEL-READING, 85 +FEMALE ROMANCE, 89 +BEHAVIOR TO GENTLEMEN, 95 +MARRIAGE, 101 +MARRIAGE HYMN, 104 +FEMALE INFLUENCE, 105 +A DIFFICULT QUESTION, 109 +EASILY DECIDED, 121 +INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON WOMAN, 132 +IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO WOMAN, 137 + + + + +LADIES' VASE. + + +POLITENESS. + + +Politeness, like every thing else in one's character and conduct, should +be based on Christian principle. "Honor all men," says the apostle. This +is the spring of good manners; it strikes at the very root of +selfishness: it is the principle by which we render to all ranks and +ages their due. A respect for your fellow-beings--a reverence for them +as God's creatures and our brethren--will inspire that delicate regard +for their rights and feelings, of which good manners is the sign. + +If you have truth--not the truth of policy, but religious truth--your +manners will be sincere. They will have earnestness, simplicity, and +frankness--the best qualities of manners. They will be free from +assumption, pretense, affectation, flattery, and obsequiousness, which +are all incompatible with sincerity. If you have sincerity, you will +choose to appear no other, nor better, than you are--to dwell in a true +light. + +We have often insisted, that the Bible contains the only rules necessary +in the study of politeness. Or, in other words, that those who are the +real disciples of Christ, cannot fail to be truly polite. Thus, let the +young woman who would possess genuine politeness, take her lessons, not +in the school of a hollow, heartless world, but in the school of Jesus +Christ. I know this counsel may be despised by the gay and fashionable; +but it will be much easier to despise it, than to prove it to be +incorrect. + +"Always think of the good of the whole, rather than of your own +individual convenience," says Mrs. Farrar, in her _Young Ladies' +Friend_. A most excellent rule; and one to which we solicit your earnest +attention. She who is thoroughly imbued with the Gospel spirit, will not +fail to do so. It was what our Savior did continually; and I have no +doubt that his was the purest specimen of good manners, or genuine +politeness, the world has ever witnessed; the politeness of Abraham +himself not excepted. + + + + +TRUE AND FALSE POLITENESS. + + +Every thing really valuable is sure to be counterfeited. This applies +not only to money, medicine, religion, and virtue, but even to +politeness. We see in society the truly polite and the falsely polite; +and, although all cannot explain, all can feel the difference. While we +respect the one, we despise the other. Men hate to be cheated. An +attempt to deceive us, is an insult to our understandings and an affront +to our morals. The pretender to politeness is a cheat. He tries to palm +off the base for the genuine; and, although he may deceive the vulgar, +he cannot overreach the cultivated. True politeness springs from right +feelings; it is a good heart, manifesting itself in an agreeable life; +it is a just regard for the rights and happiness of others in small +things; it is the expression of true and generous sentiments in a +graceful form of words; it regards neatness and propriety in dress, as +something due to society, and avoids tawdriness in apparel, as offensive +to good taste; it avoids selfishness in conduct and roughness in +manners: hence, a polite person is called a _gentle_ man. True +politeness is the smoothness of a refined mind and the tact of a kind +heart. + +Politeness is a word derived from the Greek word _polis_, which means a +city--the inhabitants of which are supposed, by constant intercourse +with each other, to be more refined in manners than the inhabitants of +the country. From _polis_, comes our English word _polish_, which +signifies an effect produced by rubbing down roughnesses until the +surface is smoothed and brightened: hence, we speak of polished minds +and polished manners. Persons in good society rub against each other +until their sharp points are worn down, and their intercourse becomes +easy. The word _urbanity_ comes from the Latin word _urbs_; that, also, +means a city, and it signifies politeness, gentleness, polish, for a +similar reason. + +In mingling with our fellow-men, there is a constant necessity for +little offices of mutual good will. An observing and generous-minded +person notices what gives him offense, and what pleases him in the +conduct of others; and he seeks at once to correct or cultivate similar +things in himself. He acts upon the wise, Christian principle of doing +to others as he would have them do to him. Hence, in dress and person, +he is clean and neat; in speech, he is courteous; in behavior, +conciliating; in the pursuit of his own interests, unobtrusive. No truly +polite person appears to notice bodily defects or unavoidable +imperfections in others; and, above all, he never sneers at religion, +either in its doctrines, ordinances, or professors. + +False politeness is but a clumsy imitation of all this. It is selfish +in its object, and superficial in its character. It is a slave to +certain forms of speech, certain methods of action, and certain fashions +of dress. It is insincere; praising where it sees no merit, and excusing +sin where it beholds no repentance. It is the offspring of selfishness; +perverting the golden rule by flattering stupidity and winking at vice, +with the hope of being treated in the same way by the community. It is a +bed of flowers, growing over a sepulchre, and drawing its life from the +loathsome putrefaction within. + +Yet, insincere and wrong as are the motives to false politeness, it is, +after all, better than vulgarity. It is the cotton batting, that keeps +the glass vases of society from dashing against each other. +"_Familiarity_," says the proverb, "_breeds contempt_;" and this is +found true, whenever coarse minds with rude manners come in contact. +Careless of the little decencies of society; selfish in selecting the +best seat in the room, or the best dish at the table; unwashed in +person, and slovenly in dress: what is this but an open proclamation of +utter disregard for others? How soon contempt must follow! + +Let the young polish their manners, not by attending to mere artificial +rules, but by the cultivation of right feelings. Let them mingle with +refined society as often as they can; and, by refined society, I do not +mean those whom you find in the ball-room--in the theater--in the +crowded party, or those--however wealthy, or richly dressed--you feel to +be only artificially polite; but I mean those who make you feel at ease +in their society, while, at the same time, they elevate your aims and +polish your manners. What a good style is to noble sentiments, +politeness is to virtue. + + + + +IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANNERS. + + +There is something in the very constitution of human nature which +inclines us to form a judgment of character from manners. It is always +taken for granted, unless there is decisive evidence to the contrary, +that the manners are the genuine expression of the feelings. And even +where such evidence exists--that is, where we have every reason to +believe that the external appearance does injustice to the moral +dispositions; or, on the other hand, where the heart is too favorably +represented by the manners--there is still a delusion practiced upon the +mind, by what passes under the eye, which it is not easy to resist. You +may take two individuals of precisely the same degree of intellectual +and moral worth, and let the manners of the one be bland and attractive, +and those of the other distant or awkward, and you will find that the +former will pass through life with far more ease and comfort than the +latter; for, though good manners will never effectually conceal a bad +heart, and are, in no case, any atonement for it, yet, taken in +connection with amiable and virtuous dispositions, they naturally and +necessarily gain upon the respect and goodwill of mankind. + +You will instantly perceive--if the preceding remarks be correct--that +it is not only your interest to cultivate good manners, as you hereby +recommend yourself to the favorable regards of others, but also your +duty, as it increases, in no small degree, your means of usefulness. It +will give you access to many persons, and give you an influence over +those whom you could otherwise never approach; much less, whose feelings +and purposes you could never hope, in any measure, to control. + +"If I should point you to the finest model of female manners which it +has ever been my privilege to observe," says a late writer, in a letter +to his daughter, "and one which will compare with the most perfect +models of this or any other age, I should repeat a venerated name--that +of Mrs. Hannah More. It was my privilege, a few years ago, to make a +visit to the residence of this distinguished female; a visit which I +have ever since regarded as among the happiest incidents of my life. At +that time, she numbered more than fourscore years, but the vigor of her +intellect was scarcely impaired; and, from what she was, I could easily +conceive what she had been when her sun was at its meridian. In her +person, she was rather small, but was a specimen of admirable symmetry. +In her manners, she united the dignity and refinement of the court, with +the most exquisite urbanity and gentleness which the female character, +in its loveliest forms, ever exhibited. She impressed me continually +with a sense of the high intellectual and moral qualities by which she +was distinguished, but still left me as unconstrained as if I had been +conversing with a beloved child. There was an air of graceful and +unaffected ease; an instinctive regard to the most delicate proprieties +of social intercourse; a readiness to communicate, and yet a desire to +listen; the dignity of conscious merit, united with the humility of the +devoted Christian: in short, there was such an assemblage of +intellectual and moral excellences beaming forth in every expression, +and look, and attitude, that I could scarcely conceive of a more perfect +exhibition of human character. I rejoice that it is the privilege of all +to know Mrs. More through her works; and I can form no better wish for +you than that you may imbibe her spirit, and walk in her footsteps." + + + + +SELF-POSSESSION. + + +Self-possession is the first requisite to good manners; and, where it is +wanting, there is generally a reason for it, in some wrong feeling or +appreciation of things. Vanity, a love of display, an overweening desire +to be admired, are great obstacles to self-possession; whereas, a +well-disciplined and well-balanced character will generally lead to +composure and self-command. In a very elegant assemblage, in a large +drawing-room in a Southern city, I saw a young lady walk quietly and +easily across the apartment to speak to a friend, who said to her: "I +wanted very much to get to you, but I had not the courage to cross the +room. How could you do it?--all alone, too, and with so many persons +looking at you!" "I did not think of any body's looking at me," was the +reply; and in that lay the secret of her self-possession. Very modest +people believe themselves to be of too little consequence to be +observed; but conceited ones, think every body must be looking at them. +Inexperienced girls, who are not wanting in modesty, are apt to dread +going into a crowded room, from an idea that every eye will be turned +upon them; but after a while they find that nobody cares to look at +them, and that the greater the crowd, the less they are observed. + +Your enjoyment of a party depends far less on what you find there, than +on what you carry with you. The vain, the ambitious, the designing, will +be full of anxiety when they go, and of disappointment when they return. +A short triumph will be followed by a deep mortification, and the +selfishness of their aims defeats itself. If you go to see and to hear, +and to make the best of whatever occurs, with a disposition to admire +all that is beautiful, and to sympathize in the pleasures of others, you +can hardly fail to spend the time pleasantly. The less you think of +yourself and your claims to attention, the better. If you are much +attended to, receive it modestly, and consider it as a happy accident; +if you are little noticed, use your leisure in observing others. + +The popular belle, who is the envy of her own sex and the admiration of +the other, has her secret griefs and trials, and thinks she pays very +dearly for her popularity; while the girl who is least attended to in +crowded assemblies, is apt to think her's the only hard lot, and that +there is unmixed happiness in being a reigning belle. She, alone, whose +steady aim is to grow better and wiser every day of her life, can look +with an equal eye on both extremes. If your views are elevated, and your +feelings are ennobled and purified by communion with gifted spirits, and +with the Father of spirits, you will look calmly on the gayest scenes +of life; you will attach very little importance to the transient +popularity of a ball-room; your endeavor will be to bring home from +every visit some new idea, some valuable piece of information, or some +useful experience of life. + + + + +GOOD COMPANY. + + +"Good company," says Duclos, "resembles a dispersed republic: the +members of it are found in all classes. Independent of rank and station, +it exists only among those who think and feel; among those who possess +correct ideas and honorable sentiments." The higher classes, constantly +occupied with the absorbing interests of wealth and ambition, formerly +introduced into their magnificent saloons a grave and almost diplomatic +stiffness of manners, of which the solemnity banished nature and +freedom. The amusements of the lower classes, which rather resembled a +toil than a recreation, present to the spectator a procedure +irreconcilable to good taste. + +There are, moreover, too many points of resemblance between the manners +and education of the higher and lower classes, to admit of our finding +the elements of good society in either of them. The lower orders are +ignorant, from want of means of instruction; the higher, from indolence +and perpetually increasing incapacity. It is besides not a little +curious that, even in the bygone days of ceremonious manners, the higher +classes, by whom they were practiced, were uniformly taught by those +illiterate persons of the lower classes who almost alone practice the +art of dancing-masters. + +It is therefore to the middle class, almost exclusively, that we must +look for good society; to that class which has not its ideas contracted +by laborious occupations, nor its mental powers annihilated by luxury. +In this class, it is truly observed, society is often full of charm: +every one seems, according to the precept of _La Bruyère_, "anxious, +both by words and manners, to make others pleased with him and with +themselves." There are slight differences of character, opinion, and +interest; but there is no prevailing style, no singular or affected +customs. An unperceived interchange of ideas and kind offices produces a +delightful harmony of thoughts and sentiments; and the wish to please +inspires those affectionate manners, those obliging expressions, and +those unrestrained attentions, which alone render social unions pleasant +and desirable. + + + + +FRIENDSHIP. + + +This subject was forcibly presented to my mind by a conversation I +recently heard in a party of young ladies, and which I take as a pattern +and semblance of twenty other conversations I have heard in twenty +similar parties. Friendship was (as it very often is) the subject of the +discussion; and, though the words have escaped my memory, I can well +recall the substance of the remarks. One lady boldly asserted that there +was no such thing as friendship in the world, where all was insincerity +and selfishness. I looked, but saw not in her youthful eye and +unfurrowed cheeks any traces of the sorrow and ill-usage that I thought +should alone have wrung from gentle lips so harsh a sentence, and I +wondered where in twenty brief years she could have learned so hard a +lesson. Have known it, she could not! therefore I concluded she had +taken it upon trust from the poets, who are fain to tell all the ill +they can of human nature, because it makes better poetry than good. + +The remark was taken up, as might have been expected, by a young +champion, who thought, or said without thinking, that friendship was--I +really cannot undertake to say what, but all the things that young +ladies usually put into their themes at school: something interminable, +illimitable, and immutable. From this the discussion grew; and how it +was, and what it was, went on to be discussed. I cannot pursue the +thread of the discourse; but the amount of it was this:--One thought +friendship was the summer portion only of the blessed; a flower for the +brow of the prosperous, that the child of misfortune must never gather. +Another thought that all interest being destructive to its very essence, +it could not be trusted, unless there was an utter destitution of every +thing that might recommend us to favor, or requite affection. This lady +must have been brought to the depth of wretchedness ere she ever could +be sure she had a friend. Some, I found, thought it was made up of a +great deal of sensibility, vulgarly called jealousy; that was, to take +umbrage at every seeming slight, to the indescribable torment of either +party. Some betrayed, if they did not exactly say it, that they thought +friendship such an absolute unity, that it would be a less crime to +worship two gods than to love two friends! Therefore, to bring it to its +perfection, it was necessary that all beside should be despised and +disregarded. + +Others, very young, and of course soon to grow wiser, thought it +consisted in the exact disclosure of your own concerns and those of +every body else with which you might chance to become acquainted; +others, that it required such exact conformity in opinion, thought, and +feeling, as should make it impossible to differ; and others, that it +implied such generous interference, even with the feelings as well as +affairs of its object, that it should spend itself in disinterested +reproaches and unasked advice. But, however differing else, all were +sure that friendship but usurped the name, unless it were purely +disinterested, endlessly durable, and beyond the reach of time and +circumstances to change it; and all were going forth in the full +certainty of finding friends, each one after the pattern of her own +imagination, the first speaker only excepted, who was fully determined +never to find any, or never to trust them, if she did. + +I marked, with pained attention, the warm glow of expectation so soon to +be blighted; and, reflected deeply on the many heart-aches with which +they must unlearn their errors. I saw that each one was likely to pass +over and reject the richest blessing of earth, even in the very pursuing +of it, from having merely sketched, in imagination, an unresembling +portrait of the object of pursuit. "When friendship meets them," I said, +"they will not know her. Can no one draw for them a better likeness?" + +It is the language of books, and the language of society, that friends +are inconstant, and friendship but little to be depended on; and the +belief, where it is really received, goes far to make a truth of that +which else were false, by creating what it suspects. Few of us but have +lived already long enough to know the bitterness of being disappointed +in our affections, and deceived in our calculations by those with whom, +in the various relationships of life, we are brought in contact. Perhaps +the aggregate of pain from this cause is greater than from any other +cause whatever. And yet, it is much to be doubted whether nearly the +whole of this suffering does not arise from our own unreasonable and +mistaken expectations. There are none so unfortunate but they meet with +some kindness in the world; and none, I believe, so fortunate but that +they meet with much less than they might do, were it not their own +fault. + +In the first place, we are mistaken in our expectations that friendship +should be disinterested. It neither is, nor can be. It may be so in +action, but never in the sentiment; there is always an equivalent to be +returned. And if we examine the movements of our own hearts, we must be +sure this is the case; and yet, we are so unreasonable as to expect our +friends should be purely disinterested; and, after having secured their +affections, we neglect to pay the price, and expect they should be +continued to us for nothing. We grow careless of pleasing them; +inconsiderate of their feelings, and heedless of the government of our +own temper towards them; and then we complain of inconstancy, if they +like us not so well as when dressed out in our best for the reception of +their favor. Yet it is, in fact, we that are changed, not they. + +Another fruitful source of disappointment in our attachments is, that +while we are much more quick in detecting the faults of others than our +own, we absurdly require that every one should be faultless but +ourselves. We do not say that we expect this in our friends; but we do +expect it, and our conduct proves that we expect it. We begin also with +believing it. The obscurities of distance; the vail that the proprieties +of society casts over nature's deformities; the dazzling glitter of +exterior qualities baffle, for a time, our most penetrating glances, and +the imperfect vision seems all that we should have it. Our inexperienced +hearts, and some indeed that should be better taught, fondly believe it +to be all it seems, and begin their attachment in full hope to find it +so. What wonder then that the bitterest disappointment should ensue, +when, on more close acquaintance, we find them full of imperfections, +perhaps of most glaring faults; and we begin to express disgust, +sometimes even resentment, that they are not what we took them for. + +But was this their fault, or ours? Did they not present themselves to us +in the garb of mortal flesh?--and do we not know that mortals are +imperfect?--that, however the outside be fair, the interior is corrupt, +and sometimes vile? He who knows all, alone knows how corrupt it is! the +heart itself, enlightened by His grace, is more deeply in the secret +than any without can be; but if the thing we love be mortal, something +of it we must perceive; and more and more of it we must perceive as we +look closer. If this is to disappoint and revolt us, and draw harsh +reproaches and bitter recriminations from our lips, there is but One on +whom we can fix our hearts with safety; and He is one, alas! we show so +little disposition to love, as proves that, with all our complainings +and bewailings of each others' faultiness, our friends are as good as +will, at present, suit us. + +But are we, therefore, to say there is no such thing as friendship, or +that it is not worth seeking? morosely repel it, or suspiciously +distrust it? If we do, we shall pay our folly's price in the forfeiture +of that, without which, however we may pretend, we never are or can be +happy; preferring to go without the very greatest of all earthly good, +because it is not what, perhaps, it may be in heaven. Rather than this, +it would be wise so to moderate our expectation, and adapt our conduct, +as to gain of it a greater measure, or, as far as may be possible, to +gather of its flowers without exposing ourselves to be wounded by the +thorns it bears. This is only to be done by setting out in life with +juster feelings and fairer expectations. + +It is not true, that friends are few and kindness rare. No one ever +needed friends, and deserved them, and found them not; but we do not +know them when we see them, or deal with them justly when we have them. +We must allow others to be as variable, and imperfect, and faulty, as +ourselves. We do not wish our readers to love their friends less, but to +love them as what they are, rather than as what they wish them to be; +and instead of the jealous pertinacity that is wounded by every +appearance of change, and disgusted by every detection of a fault, and +ready to distrust and cast away the kindest friends on every trifling +difference of behavior and feeling, to cultivate a moderation in their +demands; a patient allowance for the effect of time and circumstance; an +indulgence towards peculiarities of temper and character; and, above +all, such a close examination of what passes in their own hearts, as +will teach them better to understand and excuse what they detect in the +hearts of others; ever remembering that all things on earth are earthly; +and therefore changeful, perishable, and uncertain. + + + + +KINDRED HEARTS. + + + Oh! ask not, hope thou not too much + Of sympathy below; + Few are the hearts whence one same touch, + Bids the same fountain flow; + Few, and by still conflicting powers + Forbidden here to meet, + Such ties would make this life of ours + Too fair for aught so fleet. + + It may be that thy brother's eye + Sees not as thine, which turns, + In such deep reverence, to the sky + Where the rich sunset burns; + It may be that the breath of spring, + Born amidst violets lone, + A rapture o'er thy soul can bring, + A dream to his unknown. + + The tune that speaks of other times-- + A sorrowful delight! + The melody of distant chimes; + The sound of waves by night; + The wind that with so many a tone + Some cord within can thrill; + These may have language all thine own, + To _him_ a mystery still. + + Yet scorn thou not for this the true + And steadfast love of years; + The kindly, that from childhood grew, + The faithful to thy tears! + If there be one that o'er the dead + Hath in thy grief borne part, + And watched through sickness by thy bed, + Call _his_ a kindred heart. + + But for those bonds, all perfect made, + Wherein bright spirits blend, + Like sister flowers of one sweet shade, + With the same breeze that bend; + For that full bliss of thought allied, + Never to mortals given,-- + Oh! lay thy lovely dreams aside, + Or lift them unto heaven. + + + + +CONVERSATION. + + +Good conversation is one of the highest attainments of civilized +society. It is the readiest way in which gifted minds exert their +influence, and, as such, is worthy of all consideration and cultivation. +I remember hearing an English traveler say, many years ago, on being +asked how the conversational powers of the Americans compared with those +of the English--"Your fluency rather exceeds that of the old world, but +conversation here is not cultivated as an art." The idea of its being so +considered any where was new to the company; and much discussion +followed the departure of the stranger, as to the desirableness of +making conversation an art. Some thought the more natural and +spontaneous it was, the better; some confounded art with artifice, and +hoped their countrymen would never leave their own plain, honest way of +talking, to become adepts in hypocrisy and affectation. At last one, a +little wiser than the rest, explained the difference between art and +artifice; asked the cavilers if they had never heard of the art of +writing, or the art of thinking? and said he presumed the art of +conversing was of the same nature. And so it is. By this art, persons +are taught to arrange their ideas methodically, and to express them with +clearness and force; thus saving much precious time, and avoiding those +tedious narrations which interest no one but the speaker. It enforces +the necessity of observing the effect of what is said, and leads a +talker to stop when she finds that she has ceased to fix the attention +of her audience. + +Some persons seem to forget that mere talking is not conversing; that it +requires two to make a conversation, and that each must be in turn a +listener; but no one can be an agreeable companion who is not as willing +to listen as to talk. Selfishness shows itself in this, as in a thousand +other ways. One who is always full of herself, and who thinks nothing so +important as what she thinks, and says, and does, will be apt to engross +more than her share of the talk, even when in the company of those she +loves. + +There are situations, however, wherein it is a kindness to be the chief +talker: as when a young lady is the eldest of the party, and has seen +something, or been in some place, the description of which is desired by +all around her. If your mind is alive to the wishes and claims of +others, you will easily perceive when it is a virtue to talk and when to +be silent. It is undue pre-occupation with self which blinds people, and +prevents their seeing what the occasion requires. + +Sometimes the most kind and sympathizing person will not do justice to +her nature, but will appear to be cold and inattentive, because she +does not know that it is necessary to give some sign that she is +attending to what is addressed to her. She averts her eye from the +speaker, and listens in such profound silence, and with a countenance so +immovable, that no one could suppose her to be at all interested by what +she is hearing. This is very discouraging to the speaker and very +impolite. Good manners require that you should look at the person who +speaks to you, and that you should put in a word, or a look, from time +to time, that will indicate your interest in the narrative. A few +interjections, happily thrown in by the hearer, are a great comfort and +stimulus to the speaker; and one who has always been accustomed to this +evidence of sympathy, or comprehension, in their friends, feels, when +listened to without it, as if she were talking to a dead wall. + +For the encouragement of those who feel themselves deficient in +conversational powers, we will subjoin a notice of the lately-deceased +wife of a clergyman in this state: + +"I saw and felt, when with her, as few others have ever made me feel, +the power and uses of conversation. With her it was always promotive of +intellectual and moral life. And here let me inform you, for the +encouragement of those who may be thinking they would gladly do as she +did in society, if they were able, that when I first knew Mrs. B., her +powers of conversation were very small. She was embarrassed whenever she +attempted to convey her thoughts to others. She labored for expression +so much, that it was sometimes painful to hear her. Still, her social, +affectionate nature longed for communion with other minds and hearts, on +all subjects of deepest import. Her persevering efforts at length +prevailed, and her ardent love of truth gave her utterance: yes, an +utterance that often delighted, and sometimes surprised, those who heard +her; a readiness and fluency that are seldom equalled. Learn, then, from +her, my friends, to _exercise_ your faculties, whatever they may be. In +this way only can you improve, or even retain them. If you have but one +talent of any sort, it may not, with impunity to itself--it may not, +without sin to you--be wrapped in a napkin. And sigh not for higher +powers or opportunities, until you have fully and faithfully exercised +and improved such as you have. Nor can you know what you possess until +you have called them into action." + + + + +EXAGGERATION. + + +It is a great mistake to suppose that exaggeration makes a person more +agreeable, or that it adds to the importance of her statements. The +value of a person's words is determined by her habitual use of them. "I +like it much," "It is well done," will mean as much in some mouths, as +"I am infinitely delighted with it," "'Tis the most exquisite thing I +ever saw," will in others. Such large abatements are necessarily made +for the statements of these romancers, that they really gain nothing in +the end, but find it difficult sometimes to gain credence for so much as +is really true; whereas, a person who is habitually sober and +discriminating in his use of language, will not only inspire confidence, +but be able to produce a fine effect by the occasional use of a +superlative. + +Fidelity and exactness are indispensable in a narrative, and the habit +of exaggerating destroys the power of accurate observation and +recollection which would render the story truly interesting. If, instead +of trying to embellish her account with the fruits of her imagination, a +young lady possessed the power of seizing upon the points best worth +describing, and could give an exact account of them, she would be far +more entertaining than any exaggeration could make her; for there is no +romance like that of real life, and no imaginings of an inexperienced +girl can equal in piquancy the scenes and characters that are every day +presented to our view. Extravagant expressions are sometimes resorted to +in order to atone for deficiencies of memory and observation; but they +will never hide such defects; and an habitual use of them lowers the +tone of the mind, and leads to other deviations from the simplicity of +truth and nature. + +Another way of falsifying a narrative, is by taking for granted what you +do not know, and speaking of it as if you did. This jumping at +conclusions is a fruitful source of false reports, and does great +mischief in the world. Let no one imagine that she is walking +conscientiously, who is not in the habit of discriminating nicely +between what she knows to be fact and what she only supposes to be such. + +The frequent use of some favorite word, or phrase, is a common defect in +conversation, and can only be guarded against by asking your friends to +point it out to you, whenever they observe such a habit; for your own +ear, having become accustomed to it, may not detect it. Some persons +apply the epithets _glorious_ or _splendid_ to all sorts of objects +indiscriminately, from a gorgeous sunset to a good dinner. + +A young lady once tried to describe a pic-nic party to me in the +following terms: "There were ten of us--four on horseback and the rest +in carriages. We set off at a _glorious_ rate, and had a _splendid_ time +in getting there; I rode the most _elegant_, perfect creature you ever +beheld, and capered along _gloriously_. When we all got there, we walked +about in the woods, and gathered the most _splendid_ flowers, and dined +under the shade of a _glorious_ old elm-tree. We had our cold provisions +spread out on the grass, and every thing was _elegant_. We had +_glorious_ appetites, too, and the ham and ale were _splendid_, and put +us all in fine spirits. Some of the gentlemen sang funny songs; but one +sang such a dreadfully sentimental one, and to such a horrid doleful +tune, it made us all miserable. So then we broke up, and had a +_splendid_ time packing away the things; such fun! I had almost killed +myself with laughing, and we broke half the things. But the ride home +was the most _splendid_ of all; we arrived at the top of the hill just +in time to see the most _glorious_ sunset I ever beheld!" + +In this short account, the word "glorious" is used five times, and in +all but the last, it is grossly misapplied. The same is the case with +the word "splendid," except that it is not once used properly. +"Elegant," too, is equally inapplicable to horses and cold provisions. +Yet this style of conversing is so common, that it hardly arrests the +attention of many, who nevertheless would condemn it at once, if they +thought at all about it. + + + + +EGOTISM. + + +Has it ever happened to any but myself, to listen to I, I, I, in +conversation, till, wearied with the monotony of the sound, I was fain +to quarrel with the useful little word, and almost wish I could portray +its hydra head, and present it in a mirror to my oracles, that they +might turn away disgusted for ever with its hideous form. + +I took up my abode for some time with a lady, whose habits of +benevolence were extensive, and of whose true philanthropy of heart I +had heard much. I expected to follow her to the alms-house, the +hospital, and the garret, and I was not disappointed. Thither she went, +and for purposes the kindest and most noble. She relieved their pressing +wants; ministered consolation in the kindest tone; and gave religious +instruction wherever needed. But, then, she kept a strict calendar of +all these pious visitings; and that, too, for the entertainment of her +company. All were called upon to hear the history of the appalling +scenes she had witnessed; the tears of gratitude that had fallen on her +hands; the prayers--half articulate--that had been offered for her by +the dying; and to hear her attestations of disregard to the opposition +she had to encounter in these her labors of love. Who, with such an +appeal, could withhold their commendations? I, therefore, of course, as +I listened again and again to the same tale to different auditors, heard +many pretty complimentary speeches about magnanimity, &c.; and, getting +somewhat weary, I drew nearer to the lady's guests, till I actually +thought I heard from one--he was a clergyman, I believe--an inward +whisper that he would like to refer his friend to the four first verses +of the sixth chapter of Matthew, but that it would be impolite. If my +listening powers were too acute when I heard this, let me turn monitor +at once, and assure my young friends, if they would have their +conversation listened to with pleasure, they must be economists with +_self_ as their subject. + +On behalf of the very young, we certainly have it to plead, that they +know very little of any thing but what is, in some sense, their own. If +they talk of persons, it must be their parents, their brothers and +sisters, because they are the only people they know; if they talk of any +body's affairs, it must be their own, because they are acquainted with +no other; if of events, it must be what happens to themselves, for they +hear nothing of what happens to any body else. As soon, therefore, as +children begin to converse, it is most likely to be about themselves, or +something that belongs to them; and to the rapid growing of this +unwatched habit, may probably be attributed the ridiculous and offensive +egotism of many persons in conversation, who, in conduct, prove that +their feelings and affections are by no means self-engrossed. But the +more indigenous this unsightly weed, the more need is there to prevent +its growth. It has many varieties; the leaf is not always of the same +shape, nor the flower of the same color, but they are all of one genus; +and our readers who are botanists will have no difficulty in detecting +them, however much affected by the soil they grow in. The _I's_ and +_my's_ a lady exhibits in conversation, will bear such analogy to her +character, as the wares on the stall of the bazaar bear to the trade of +the vender. Or, if she have a great deal of what is called tact, she +will, perhaps, vary the article according to the demands of the market. +In fashionable life, it will be _my_ cousin Sir Ralph, _my_ father the +Earl, and _my_ great uncle the Duke; the living relatives and the +departed fathers; the halls of her family, their rent-rolls, or their +graves, will afford abundant materials for any conversation she may have +to furnish. + +Among those who, having gotten into the world they know not how, are +determined it shall, at least, be known that they are there, it is _my_ +houses, _my_ servants, _my_ park, _my_ gardens; or, if the lady be too +young to claim in her own behalf, _my_ father's houses, &c., &c., will +answer all the purpose. But, happily for the supply of this kind of +talk, rank and wealth, though very useful, are not necessary to it. +Without any ostentation whatever, but merely from the habit of occupying +themselves with their own individuality, some will let the company +choose the subject; but, be it what it may, all they have to say upon it +is the _I_, or the _my_. Books, travel, sorrow, sickness, nature, art, +no matter, it is _I_ have seen, _I_ have done, _I_ have been, _I_ have +learned, _I_ have suffered, _I_ have known. Whatever it be to others, +the _I_ is the subject for them; for they tell you nothing of the matter +but their own concern with it. For example, let the city of Naples be +spoken of: one will tell you what is seen there--what is done +there--what happens there--and making her reflections on all without +naming herself; you will only perceive, by her knowledge and remarks, +that she has been in Naples. Another will tell you how she came there, +and why she went, and how long she staid, and what she did, and what she +saw; and the things themselves will appear but as incidents to the idea +of self. + +Some ladies I have known, who, not content with the present display of +their powers, are determined to re-sell their wares at second-hand. They +tell you all the witty things they said to somebody yesterday, and the +wise remarks they made to a certain company last night. _I_ said--_I_ +remarked. The commodity should be valuable indeed to be thus brought to +market a second time. Others there are, who, under pretext of +confidence--little complimentary when shown alike to all--pester people +with their own affairs. Before you have been two hours in their company, +you are introduced to all their family, and to all their family's +concerns, pecuniary affairs, domestic secrets, and personal feelings--a +sort of bird's-eye view of every thing that belongs to them--past, +present, and to come; and woe to the secrets of those who may chance to +have been in connection with these egotists; in such a view, you must +needs see ten miles around. + +There is an egotism, of which we must speak more seriously. Faults, that +in the world we laugh at, when they attain the dignity and purity of +sacred things, become matter of serious regret. I speak nothing further +of the ostentatious display of pious and benevolent exertion. We live at +a time when religion, its deepest and dearest interests, have become a +subject of general conversation. We would have it so; but we mark, with +regret, that self has introduced itself here. The heartless +loquacity--we must say heartless, for, in a matter of such deep +interest, facility of speech bespeaks the feelings light--the +unshrinking jabber with which people tell you their soul's +history--their past impressions and present difficulties--their +doctrines and their doubts--their manifestations and their +experiences--not in the ear of confidence, to have those doubts removed +and those doctrines verified; not in the ear of anxious inquiry, to +communicate knowledge and give encouragement, but any where, in any +company, and to any body who will listen, the _I_ felt--_I_ thought--_I_ +experienced. Sorrows that, if real, should blanch the cheek to think +upon; mercies that enwrap all hearers in amazement, they will tell as +unconcernedly as the adventures of the morning. The voice falters not; +the color changes not; the eye moistens not. And to what purpose all +this personality? To get good, or do good? By no means; but that, +whatever subject they look upon, they always see themselves in the +foreground of the picture, with every minute particular swelled into +importance, while all besides is merged in indistinctness. + +We may be assured there is nothing so ill-bred, so annoying, so little +entertaining, so absolutely impertinent, as this habit of talking always +with reference to ourselves; for every body has a self of their own, to +which they attach as much importance as we to ours, and see all others' +matters small in the comparison. The lady of rank has her castles and +her ancestors--they are the foreground of her picture. There they stood +when she came into being; and there they are still, in all the magnitude +of near perspective; and, if her estimate of their real size be not +corrected by experience and good sense, she expects that others will see +them as large as she does. But that will not be so. The lady of wealth +has gotten her houses and lands in the foreground. These are the larger +features in her landscape; titles and the castles are seen at a smaller +angle. Neither lady will admire the proportions of her neighbor's +drawing, should they chance to discover themselves in each other's +conversation. She, again--whether rich or poor--whose world is her own +domesticity, sees nothing so prominent as the affairs of her nursery or +her household; and perceives not that, in the eyes of others, her +children are a set of diminutives, undistinguishable in the mass of +humanity, in which that they ever existed, or that they cease to exist, +is matter of equal indifference. + +It is thus, that each one attributes to the objects around him, not +their true and actual proportion, but a magnitude proportioned to their +nearness to himself. We say not that he draws ill who does so: for, to +each one, things are important, more or less, in proportion to his own +interest in them. But hence is the mischief. We forget that every one +has a self of his own; and that the constant setting forth of ours is, +to others, preposterous, obtrusive, and ridiculous. The painter who +draws a folio in the front of his picture, and a castle in the distance, +properly draws the book the larger of the two: but he must be a fool, if +he therefore thinks the folio is the larger, and expects every body else +to think so too. Yet, nothing wiser are we, when we suffer ourselves to +be perpetually pointing to ourselves, our affairs, and our possessions, +as if they were as interesting to others as they are important to us. + + + + +GENTLENESS. + + +Nothing is so likely to conciliate the affections of the other sex, as a +feeling that woman looks to them for support and guidance. In proportion +as men are themselves superior, they are as accessible to this appeal. +On the contrary, they never feel interested in one who seems disposed +rather to offer than to ask assistance. There is, indeed, something +unfeminine in independence. It is contrary to nature and, therefore, it +offends. We do not like to see a woman affecting tremors, but still less +do we like to see her acting the Amazon. A really sensible woman feels +her dependence; she does what she can, but she is conscious of +inferiority, and, therefore, grateful for support; she knows that she is +the weaker vessel, and that, as such, she should receive honor. + +In every thing, therefore, that women attempt, they should show their +consciousness of dependence. If they are learners, let them evince a +teachable spirit; if they give an opinion, let them do it in an +unassuming manner. There is something so unpleasant in female +self-sufficiency, that it not unfrequently deters, instead of +persuading, and prevents the adoption of advice which the judgment even +approves. Yet this is a fault into which women, of certain pretensions, +are occasionally betrayed. Age, or experience, or superior endowment, +entitles them, they imagine, to assume a higher place and a more +independent tone. But their sex should ever teach them to be +subordinate; and they should remember that influence is obtained, not by +assumption, but by a delicate appeal to affection or principle. Women, +in this respect, are something like children; the more they show their +need of support, the more engaging they are. + +The appropriate expression of dependence is gentleness. However endowed +with superior talents a woman may be, without gentleness she cannot be +agreeable. Gentleness ought to be the characteristic of the sex; and +there is nothing that can compensate for the want of this feminine +attraction. + +Gentleness is, indeed, the talisman of woman. To interest the feelings +is to her much easier than to convince the judgment; the heart is far +more accessible to her influence than the head. She never gains so much +as by concession; and is never so likely to overcome, as when she seems +to yield. + +Gentleness prepossesses at first sight; it insinuates itself into the +vantage ground, and gains the best position by surprise. While a display +of skill and strength calls forth a counter array, gentleness, at once, +disarms opposition, and wins the day before it is contested. + + + + +SISTERLY VIRTUES. + + +Sisterly affection is as graceful in its developments to the eye of the +beholder, as it is cheering to the heart where it resides. There are +some who, though not deficient in its more important duties, are but too +regardless of those lesser demonstrations of attachment, which are so +soothing to the susceptible heart. Every delicate attention which +tenderness prompts; every mark of politeness which refined society +requires, ought to pervade the intercourse of brothers and sisters. It +is a mistake that good manners are to be reserved for visitors, and +that, in the family circle, negligence and coarseness may be indulged +with impunity. Even nature's affections may be undermined or shaken by +perseverance in an improper deportment, more than by lapses into error +and folly. For the latter, repentance may atone, while the former check +the flow of the heart's warm fountains, until they stagnate or become +congealed. + +I knew a father, himself a model of polished manners, who required of +his large family to treat each other, at all times, with the same +politeness that they felt was due to their most distinguished guest. +Rudeness, neglect, or indifference were never tolerated in their circle. +Respect to each other's opinion; a disposition to please and be +pleased; care in dress, and courtesy of manner, were not considered +thrown away, if bestowed on a brother or a sister. Every one of the +group was instructed to bring amiable feelings and powers of +entertainment to their own fire side. The result was happy. The brothers +felt it an honor to wait upon their sisters, and the sisters a pleasure +to do all in their power for the comfort and improvement of their +brothers. This daily practice of every decorum, imparted to their +manners an enduring grace, while the affections, which Heaven implanted, +seemed to gather strength from the beauty of their interchange. I would +not assert that fraternal or sisterly affection may not be deep and +pervading without such an exterior, yet it is surely rendered more +lovely by it; as the planets might pursue in darkness the order of their +course, but it is their brilliance which reveals and embellishes it. + +Every well-regulated family might be as a perpetual school. The younger +members, witnessing the example of those whose excellence is more +confirmed, will be led, by the principle of imitation, more effectually, +than by the whole force of foreign precept. The custom of the older +daughters, to assist in the education of their less advanced sisters, I +rejoice to see, is becoming more common. It cannot be too highly +applauded. What should prevent their assuming the systematic office of +instructors, when circumstances are favorable to such an arrangement. + +By what method can a daughter more fully evince her gratitude to her +parents, than by aiding their children in the search of knowledge and of +goodness. How amiable, how praiseworthy, is that disposition which +prompts a young and beautiful creature to come forth as the ally of a +mother, in that most overwhelming of all anxieties, so to train her +little ones as to form at last an unbroken family in heaven. No better +apprenticeship could be devised, and no firmer hostage given to God or +man for its faithful performance. + + + + +HOME. + + + Where burns the lov'd hearth brightest, + Cheering the social breast? + Where beats the fond heart lightest, + Its humble hopes possess'd? + Where is the smile of sadness, + Of meek-eyed patience born, + Worth more than those of gladness, + Which mirth's bright cheek adorn? + Pleasure is marked by fleetness, + To those who ever roam; + While grief itself has sweetness + At home! dear home! + + There blend the ties that strengthen + Our hearts in hours of grief; + The silver links that lengthen + Joy's visits when most brief; + There eyes, in all their splendor, + Are vocal to the heart, + And glances, gay or tender, + Fresh eloquence impart; + Then, dost thou sigh for pleasure? + O! do not widely roam, + But seek that hidden treasure + At home! dear home! + + Does pure religion charm thee + Far more than aught below? + Would'st thou that she should arm thee + Against the hour of woe? + Think not she dwelleth only + In temples built for prayer; + For home itself is lonely, + Unless her smiles be there; + The devotee may falter, + The bigot blindly roam, + If worshipless her altar + At home! dear home! + + Love over it presideth, + With meek and watchful awe, + Its daily service guideth, + And shows its perfect law? + If there thy faith shall fail thee, + If there no shrine be found, + What can thy prayers avail thee + With kneeling crowds around? + Go! leave thy gift unoffered + Beneath religion's dome, + And be thy first fruits proffered + At home! dear home! + + + + +FIRESIDE INFLUENCE. + + +Is it not true that parents are the lawgivers of their children? Does +not a mother's counsel--does not a father's example--cling to the +memory, and haunt us through life? Do we not often find ourselves +subject to habitual trains of thought? and, if we seek to discover the +origin of these, are we not insensibly led back, by some beaten and +familiar track, to the paternal threshold? Do we not often discover some +home-chiseled grooves in our minds, into which the intellectual +machinery seems to slide, as by a sort of necessity? Is it not, in +short, a proverbial truth, that the controlling lessons of life are +given beneath the parental roof? We know, indeed, that wayward passions +spring up in early life, and, urging us to set authority at defiance, +seek to obtain the mastery of the heart. But, though struggling for +liberty and license, the child is shaped and molded by the parent. The +stream that bursts from the fountain, and seems to rush forward headlong +and self-willed, still turns hither and thither, according to the shape +of its mother-earth over which it flows. If an obstacle is thrown across +its path, it gathers strength, breaks away the barrier, and again bounds +forward. It turns, and winds, and proceeds on its course, till it +reaches its destiny in the sea. But, in all this, it has shaped its +course and followed out its career, from babbling infancy at the +fountain to its termination in the great reservoir of waters, according +to the channel which its parent earth has provided. Such is the +influence of a parent over his child. It has within itself a will, and +at its bidding it goes forward, but the parent marks out its track. He +may not stop its progress, but he may guide its course. He may not throw +a dam across its path, and say to it, hitherto mayest thou go, and no +farther; but he may turn it through safe, and gentle, and useful +courses--or he may leave it to plunge over wild cataracts, or lose +itself in some sandy desert, or collect its strength into a torrent, but +to spread ruin and desolation along its borders. + +The fireside, then, is a seminary of infinite importance: it is +important, because it is universal, and because the education it +bestows, being woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form and color +to the whole texture of life. There are few who can receive the honors +of a college, but all are graduates of the hearth. The learning of the +university may fade from the recollection, its classic lore may molder +in the halls of memory; but the simple lessons of home, enameled upon +the heart of childhood, defy the rust of years, and outlive the more +mature but less vivid pictures of after days. So deep, so lasting, +indeed, are the impressions of early life, that we often see a man, in +the imbecility of age, holding fresh in his recollection the events of +childhood, while all the wide space between that and the present hour is +a blasted and forgotten waste. You have perchance seen an old and +half-obliterated portrait, and, in the attempt to have it cleaned and +restored, may have seen it fade away, while a brighter and more perfect +picture, painted beneath, is revealed to view. This portrait, first +drawn upon the canvas, is no inapt illustration of youth; and, though +it may be concealed by some after-design, still the original traits will +shine through the outward picture, giving it tone while fresh, and +surviving it in decay. Such is the fireside--the great institution +furnished by Providence for the education of man. + + + + +PERSONAL APPEARANCE. + + +THE TEETH. + +The prevalence of defective teeth in this country is the general subject +of remark by foreigners; and whoever has traveled in Spain and Portugal +is struck with the superior soundness and whiteness of teeth in those +countries. Though not a cleanly people in other respects, they wash +their teeth often, and, by means of toothpicks, carefully remove all +substances from between them after meals. A little silver porcupine, +with holes all over its back to insert toothpicks, is a common ornament +on the dining tables of Spain and Portugal. The general use of them +creates so large a demand, that students at Coimbra sometimes support +themselves by whittling toothpicks, which are sold tied in small bunches +like matches. They are made of willow, on account of its toughness and +pliability. Toothpicks of metal are too hard, and are apt to injure the +gums. There is the same objection, in a less degree, to quills. But +willow toothpicks are preferable to all others; and they have the +advantage of being the most cleanly, for they generally break in the +using, and are thrown away. Few sights are more offensive to a person +of any refinement than a toothpick that has been much used; it is, +moreover, uncleanly, and therefore not healthy for the teeth. Food +allowed to remain between the teeth, particularly animal food, is very +destructive: it should be carefully removed after every meal, and the +mouth thoroughly rinsed. This may seem to some like a great talk about a +small matter; but these are simple precautions to take, and very slight +trouble compared with the agony of aching teeth, or a breath so +offensive that your best friend does not wish to sit near you. I can see +no reason why a man's complexion should exclude him from the +dining-table, but I do see a very good reason why he should be banished +for not taking proper care of his teeth. A bad breath is such a +detestable thing, that it might be a sufficient reason for not marrying +a person of otherwise agreeable qualities. It is, moreover, perfectly +inexcusable thus to transform oneself into a walking sepulchre. Nobody +needs to have an offensive breath. A careful removal of substances from +between the teeth, rinsing the mouth after meals, and a bit of charcoal +held in the mouth, will _always_ cure a bad breath. Charcoal, used as a +dentifrice--that is, rubbed on in powder with a brush--is apt to injure +the enamel; but a lump of it, held in the mouth, two or three times in a +week, and slowly chewed, has a wonderful power to preserve the teeth and +purify the breath. The action is purely chemical. It counteracts the +acid arising from a disordered stomach, or food decaying about the +gums; and it is the acid which destroys the teeth. + +Every one knows that charcoal is an antiputrescent, and is used in +boxing up animal or vegetable substances, to keep them from decay. Upon +the same chemical principle, it tends to preserve the teeth and sweeten +the breath. There is no danger from swallowing it; on the contrary, +small quantities have a healthful effect on the inward system, +particularly when the body is suffering from that class of complaints +peculiarly incident to summer. It would not be wise to swallow that or +any other gritty substance, in large quantities, or very frequently; +but, once or twice a week, a little would be salutary, rather than +otherwise. A bit of charcoal, as big as a cherry, merely held in the +mouth a few hours, without chewing, has a good effect. At first, most +persons dislike to chew it, but use soon renders it far from +disagreeable. Those who are troubled with an offensive breath might chew +it very often and swallow it but seldom. It is particularly important to +clean and rinse the mouth thoroughly before going to bed; otherwise a +great deal of the destructive acid will form during the night. + +If these hints induce only _one_ person to take better care of the +teeth, I shall be more than rewarded for the trouble of writing. It is +painful to see young persons losing their teeth merely for want of a few +simple precautions; and one cannot enter stage or steam-car without +finding the atmosphere polluted, and rendered absolutely unhealthy for +the lungs to breathe, when a proper use of water and charcoal might +render it as wholesome and pleasant as a breeze of Eden. + + +THE HAIR. + +No part of the human frame offers a finer subject for the display of +decorative taste and elegance than the hair:--the countenance, the +contour of the head, and even the whole person, may be said to be +greatly affected by its arrangement and dress. As the possession of fine +hair is peculiarly prized, so is its loss proportionally felt. + +Like every other portion of the human frame, the use of _water_ to the +hair is absolutely essential to its health, as it tends to relieve the +secretions and open the pores of the skin. The frequency of the use of +water, however, should be guided by circumstances. It may be set down as +a regulating principle, that the stronger and more healthy the hair may +be, the more water may be used with propriety; by the same rule, when +the hair is weak and thin, it should not be washed more than once +a-week. At such times, _cold water_ alone should be used, when care +should be taken to dry it well immediately after. Washing too often, +dries up the requisite oily fluid that forms the nourishment of the +hair. + +Some judgment is necessary in the choice of brushes. Two are necessary: +a penetrating and a polishing brush; the one composed of strong, and +the other of fine hair. The penetrating brush (especially that used by +ladies) should be made of elastic hairs, rather inclining to irregular +lengths. The other should be made of firm, soft, silken hair, thickly +studded. Unfortunately, however, we cannot but observe that penetrating +brushes are often selected, so harsh and strong, that they fret the skin +of the head, and injure the roots, instead of gently and gradually +effecting the object for which they were intended. + +Combs are merely used for the purpose of giving a form to the hair, and +assisting in its decorative arrangement; to use them too often, is +rather prejudicial than otherwise, as they injure the roots of the hair. +Above all kinds, that of the small-toothed comb is the most injurious in +this respect, as it not only inflames the tender skin, but, from the +fineness of its teeth, splits and crushes the hairs in being passed +through them. Persons must indeed be of very uncleanly habits, whose +heads absolutely require the aid of this comb, as the brush alone +sufficiently possesses the power of effectually cleaning the hair from +scurf, dandriff, and dust, if constantly used. + +To persons whose hair is in a declining state, the frequent and regular +use of oil or bear's grease is often of much service, as it is +calculated to assist in supplying that nourishment which is so +necessary. No oil perhaps has ever acquired a greater celebrity than +Rowland's Macassar; for this reason we cannot but recommend it to the +notice of our readers. + +One of the most pernicious methods of dressing the hair, at the expense +of its health, is by curling. This not only dries up the moisture that +circulates through the hairs, but the heat and compression thus used +completely prevent proper circulation. When, however, the habit is +persisted in, its ill effects may be much obviated by constantly +brushing the hair well, and having it frequently cut, by which means the +necessary circulation is kept up, and the roots invigorated. + + +THE HANDS. + +"Why don't my hands look and feel as it would seem that the perfect +Author of all things would have them?" How many a young man and woman +have asked this question! and are troubled to know why it is that some +persons have such bloodless hands, perfect nails, so free from +hang-nails, as they are called, while their own hands look so much like +duck's feet or bird's claws. + +All sorts of cosmetics, the most penetrating oils, rubbing and scouring +the hands, paring and scraping the nails, and cutting round the roots of +the nails, are resorted to, in hopes of making their hands appear +natural; but all avails nothing, and many a poor hand is made to perform +all its manipulations _incognito_. About the piano, in the social party, +in the house, and in the street, the hand--the most exquisite, or what +should be the most beautiful and useful part of the human frame--is +_gloved_. And why? Because it is not fit to be seen. + +Now, reader, I am about to tell you of a positive cure. In the first +place, never cut or scrape your finger-nails with a knife or scissors, +except in paring them down to the end of the fingers. Secondly, use +nothing but a good stiff nail-brush, fine soap, and water, and rub the +nails and hands briskly with these every morning the _year round_. In +the third place, I would have you know that surfeiting will invariably +produce heavy, burning hands. An impure state of the blood will manifest +itself in the hands sooner than in most other parts of the body. If you +have bad hands, be assured that the quantity or quality, or both, of +your diet is wrong. + +If you try to profit by these suggestions, you will, before one year +expires, be no longer ashamed of your hands. + + + + +DRESS. + + +There are some rules, which, being based on first principles, are of +universal application. And one of these belongs to our present subject, +_viz:_ nothing can be truly beautiful which is not appropriate. Nature +and the fine arts teach us this. All styles of dress, therefore, which +impede the motions of the wearer--which do not sufficiently protect the +person--which add unnecessarily to the heat of summer, or to the cold of +winter--which do not suit the age or occupations of the wearer, or which +indicate an expenditure unsuited to her means, are _inappropriate_, and, +therefore, destitute of one of the essential elements of beauty. +Propriety, or fitness, lies at the foundation of all good taste in +dressing; and to this test should be brought a variety of particulars, +too numerous to be mentioned, but which may be thus illustrated: The +dress that would be very proper on occasion of a morning visit in a +city, would be so out of place, if worn by the same person when making +preserves or pastry, or when scrambling through the bushes in a country +walk, that it would cease to look well. A simple calico gown and white +apron would be so much more convenient and suitable, that the wearer +would actually look better in them. + +Some persons, also, toil early and late, and strain every nerve to +procure an expensive garment, and think that once arrayed in it, they +shall look as well as some richer neighbor, whose style of dress they +wish to imitate. But they forget that, if it does not accord with their +general style of living--if it is out of harmony with other things, it +will so strike every body; and this want of fitness will prevent its +looking well on them. + +Let a true sense of propriety of the fitness of things regulate all your +habits of living and dressing, and it will produce such a beautiful +harmony and consistency of character, as to throw a charm around you +that all may feel, though few may comprehend. Always consider well +whether the articles of dress which you wish to purchase are suited to +your age--your condition--your means--to the climate--to the particular +use to which you mean to put them; and then let the principles of good +taste keep you from the extremes of fashion; and regulate the form so as +to combine utility and beauty, while the known rules of harmony in +colors save you from shocking the eye of the artist by incongruous +mixtures. + +The character is much more shown in the style of dress that is worn +every day, than in that which is designed for great occasions; and when +I see a young girl come down to the family breakfast in an untidy +wrapper, with her hair in papers, her feet slip-shod, and an old silk +handkerchief round her neck, I know that she cannot be the neat, +industrious, and refined person whom I should like for an inmate. I feel +equally certain, too, that her chamber is not kept in neat order, and +that she does not set a proper value upon time. However well a lady has +appeared at a party, I would recommend to a young gentleman--before he +makes up his mind as to her domestic qualities--to observe her +appearance at the breakfast-table, when she expects to see only her own +family; and, if it be such as I have just described, to beware how he +prosecutes the acquaintance. + + + + +COMPRESSION OF THE LUNGS. + + +Few circumstances are more injurious to beauty than the constrained +movement, suffused complexion, and labored respiration that betray +tight-lacing. The play of intelligence, and varied emotion, which throw +such a charm over the brow of youth, are impeded by whatever obstructs +the flow of blood from the heart to its many organs. In Greece, where +the elements of beauty and grace were earliest comprehended, and most +happily illustrated, the fine symmetry of the form was left untortured. + +But the influence of this habit on beauty is far less to be deprecated +than its effects upon health. That pulmonary disease, affections of the +heart, and insanity, are in its train, and that it leads some of our +fairest and dearest to Fashion's shrine to die, is placed beyond a doubt +by strong medical testimony. + +Dr. Mussey, whose "_Lectures on Intemperance_" have so forcibly arrested +the attention of the public, asserts that "greater numbers annually die +among the female sex, in consequence of tight-lacing, than are destroyed +among the other sex by the use of spirituous liquors in the same time." +Is it possible that thousands of our own sex, in our own native land, +lay, with their own hand, the foundation of diseases that destroy +life!--and are willing, for fashion's sake, to commit suicide! + +Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for the Insane, in +Connecticut, to whom science and philanthropy are indebted, adduces many +instances of the fearful effects of obstructed circulation on the brain. +Being requested by the instructress of a large female seminary to +enforce on her pupils the evils of compression in dress, he said, with +that eloquence of eye and soul, which none, who once felt their +influence, can ever forget: "The whole course of your studies, my dear +young ladies, conspires to impress you with reverence for antiquity. +Especially do you turn to Greece for the purest models in the fine arts, +and the loftiest precepts of philosophy. While sitting, as disciples, at +the feet of her men of august minds, you may have sometimes doubted how +to balance, or where to bestow your admiration. The acuteness of +Aristotle--the purity of Plato--the calm, unrepented satisfaction of +Socrates--the varied lore of Epicurus, and the lofty teachings of Zeno, +have alternately attracted or absorbed your attention. Permit me to +suppose, that the high-toned ethics of the Stoics, and their elevation +of mind, which could teach its frail companion, the body, the proud +lesson of insensibility to pain, have won your peculiar complaisance. +Yet, while meting out to them the full measure of your applause, have +you ever recollected that modern times--that your own country came in +competition for a share of fame! Has it occurred to you that your own +sex--even the most delicate and tender part of it--exceeded the ancient +Stoics in the voluntary infliction of pain, and extinction of pity? Yes; +some of the timid and beautiful members of this seminary may enter the +lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysippus, and cherish no slight hope +of victory. I trust to prove to you that the ancient and sublime Stoics +were very tyros in comparison with many a lady of our own times. In +degree of suffering, extent of endurance, and in perfection of +concealment, they must yield the palm. I do assure you, that, its most +illustrious masters--fruitful as they were in tests to try the +body--never invented, imagined, nor would have been able to sustain that +torture of tight-lacing which the modern belle steadily inflicts without +shrinking, and bears without repining sometimes to her very grave. True, +they might sometimes have broken a bone, or plucked out an eye, and been +silent; but they never grappled iron and whalebone into the very nerves +and life-blood of their system. They might possibly have passed a dagger +too deeply info the heart, and died; but they never drew a ligature of +suffocation around it, and _expected to live_! They never tied up the +mouths of the millions of air-vessels in the lungs, and then taxed them +to the full measure of action and respiration. Even Pharaoh only +demanded bricks without straw for a short time; but the fashionable lady +asks to live without breathing for many years! + +"The ancient Stoics taught that the nearest approach to apathy was the +perfection of their doctrine. They prudently rested in utter +indifference; they did not attempt to go beyond it; they did not claim +absolute denial of all suffering; still less did they enjoin to persist +and rejoice in it, even to the 'dividing asunder of soul and body.' In +this, too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady taking a flight beyond +the sublime philosopher. She will not admit that she feels the slightest +inconvenience. Though she has fairly won laurels to which no Stoic dared +aspire, yet she studiously disclaims the distinction which she faced +death to earn--yea, denies that she has either part of lot in the +matter; surpassing in modesty, as well as in desert, all that antiquity +can boast or history record." + +We quote the following from Miss Sedgwick: "One word as to these small +waists: Symmetry is essential to beauty of form. A waist +disproportionately small is a deformity to an instructed eye. Women must +have received their notions of small waists from ignorant dress-makers. +If young ladies could hear the remarks made on these small waists by men +generally, and especially men of taste, they would never again show +themselves till they had loosened their corset-laces and enlarged their +belts." + + + + +LETTER-WRITING. + + +It sometimes happens that, in fashionable penmanship, the circumstance +that it is _to be deciphered_ seems to have been forgotten. "To read so +as not to be understood, and to write so as not to be read, are among +the minor immoralities," says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More. Elegant +chirography, and a clear epistolary style, are accomplishments which +every educated female should possess. Their indispensable requisites +are, neatness, the power of being easily perused, orthographical and +grammatical correctness. Defects in either of these particulars, are +scarcely pardonable. The hand-writing is considered by many, one of the +talismans of character. Whether this test may be depended on or not, the +fact that letters travel farther than the sound of the voice, or the +sight of the countenance can follow, renders it desirable that they +should convey no incorrect or unfavorable impression. The lesser +niceties of folding, sealing, and superscription, are not beneath the +notice of a lady. + +Letter-writing is a subject of so varied and extensive a nature, that it +can scarcely be reduced to rules or taught by precept; but some +instructions respecting it may afford assistance in avoiding error, and +obtaining a degree of excellence in this most important exercise. + +When you write a letter to any person, express the same sentiments and +use the same language as you would do if you were conversing with him. +"Write eloquently," says Mr. Gray, "that is, from your heart, in such +expressions as that will furnish." + +Before you begin a letter, especially when it is on any occasion of +importance, weigh well in your own mind the design and purport of it; +and consider very attentively what sentiments are most proper for you to +express, and your correspondent to read. + +To assist invention and promote order, it may, as some writers on +epistolary composition recommend, occasionally be of use to make, in the +mind, a division of a letter into three parts, the beginning, middle, +and end; or, in other words, the exordium or introduction, the narration +or proposition, and the conclusion. The exordium, or introduction, +should be employed, not indeed with the formality of rhetoric, but with +the ease of genuine politeness and benevolence, in conciliating favor +and attention; the narration or proposition, in stating the business +with clearness and precision; the conclusion, in confirming what has +been premised, in making apologies where any are necessary, and in +cordial expressions of respect, esteem, or affection. + +Scrupulously adhere to the rules of grammar. Select and apply all your +words with a strict regard to their proper signification, and whenever +you have any doubts respecting the correctness or propriety of them, +consult a dictionary or some good living authority. Avoid, with +particular care, all errors in orthography, in punctuation, and in the +arrangement of words and phrases. + +Dashes, underlinings, and interlineations, are much used by unskillful +and careless writers, merely as substitutes for proper punctuation, and +a correct, regular mode of expression. The frequent recurrence of them +greatly defaces a letter, and is equally inconsistent with neatness of +appearance and regularity of composition. All occasion for +interlineations may usually be superseded by a little previous thought +and attention. Dashes are proper only when the sense evidently requires +a greater pause than the common stops designate. And in a +well-constructed sentence, to underline a word is wholly useless, except +on some very particular occasion we wish to attract peculiar attention +to it, or to give it an uncommon degree of importance or emphasis. + +Postscripts have a very awkward appearance, and they generally indicate +thoughtlessness and inattention. To make use of them in order to convey +assurances of respect to the person to whom you write, or to those who +are intimately connected with him, is particularly improper; it seems to +imply that the sentiments you express are so slightly impressed upon +your mind, that you had almost forgotten them or thought them scarcely +worth mentioning. + + + + +MUSIC. + + +This accomplishment, so popular at the present time, is a source of +surpassing delight to many minds. From its power to soothe the feelings +and modify the passions, it seems desirable to understand it, if it does +not involve too great expense of time. Vocal music is an accomplishment +within the reach of most persons. "I have a piano within myself," said a +little girl, "and I can play on that, if I have no other." + +An excellent clergyman, possessing much knowledge of human nature, +instructed his large family of daughters in the theory and practice of +music. They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable and happy. A +friend inquired if there was any secret in his mode of education. He +replied, "When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to them _sing_; +and, if I hear them speaking against any person, I call them to sing to +me, and so they have sung away all causes of discontent, and every +disposition to scandal." Such a use of this accomplishment might serve +to fit a family for the company of angels and the clime of praise. Young +voices around the domestic altar, breathing sacred music at the hour of +morning and evening devotions, are a sweet and touching accompaniment. + +Instrumental music, being more expensive in its attainment, both of +money and time, and its indifferent performance giving pain to those +of refined sensibility, seems scarcely desirable to be cultivated, +unless the impulse of native taste prompts or justifies the labor. The +spirited pen of Miss Martineau, in her "Five First Years of Youth," has +sketched a pleasing description of a young lady, possessing a strong +predilection for music. "She sang much and often, not that she had any +particular aim at being very accomplished, but because she loved it, or, +as she said, because she could not help it. She sang to Nurse Rickham's +children; she sang as she went up and down stairs; she sang when she was +glad, and when she was sorry; when her father was at home, because he +liked it; and when he was out, because he could not be disturbed by it. +In the woods, at noonday, she sang like a bird, that a bird might answer +her; and, if she awoke in the dark night, the feeling of solemn music +came over her, with which she dared not break the silence." + +Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt that opportunities for its +improvement should be gladly accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems +cause of regret, when time, perhaps health, are sacrificed to the +accomplishment. Even where a tolerable performance of instrumental music +might probably be attained, without the prompting of decided taste, +there may be danger of absorbing too much of time and attention from +those employments which a female ought to understand and will be +expected to discharge, and which are in reality of far greater +importance. + + + + +FLOWERS. + + + "Who does not love a flower + Its hues are taken from the light + Which summer's suns fling, pure and bright, + In scatter'd and prismatic hues, + That smile and shine in drooping dews; + Its fragrance from the sweetest air-- + Its form from all that's light and fair-- + Who does not love a flower?" + + +In the two great floral kingdoms of nature, the botanical and the human, +if we must yield the palm to that which is alike transcendent in the +beauty of form and motion, and in the higher attributes of intelligence, +innocence, and rural perfection, yet it can be no derogation to admire, +with a rapture bordering upon enthusiasm, the splendid products of the +garden; and especially when their beauties are combined and arranged +with an exquisite and refined taste. What is the heart made of which can +find no sentiment in flowers! In the dahlia, for example, we see what +can be done by human skill and art, in educating and training a simple +and despised plant, scarcely thought worthy of cultivation, to the +highest rank of gayety and glory in the aristocracy of flowers. We may +learn, from such success, a lesson of encouragement, in the education +and training of flowers, of an infinitely higher value and perfection. + +The vast creation of God--the centre and source of good--is every where +radiant with beauty. From the shell that lies buried in the depths of +the ocean, to the twinkling star that floats in the more profound depths +of the firmament--through all the forms of material and animated +existence, beauty, beauty, beauty prevails! In the floral kingdom, it +appears in an infinite variety--in an unstinted and even a richer +profusion than in other departments of nature. While these contributions +are thrown out so lavishly at our feet, and a taste for flowers seems +almost an instinct of nature, and is one of the most innocent and +refined sentiments which we can cultivate, let us indulge and gratify it +to the utmost extent, whenever leisure, opportunity, and fortune give us +the means. There is no danger of an excess, under those reasonable +restrictions which all our sentiments demand. + +"But," says some cynical objector, "flowers are only to please the eye." +And why should not the eye be pleased? What sense may be more innocently +gratified? They are among the most simple and cheapest luxuries in which +we ever indulge. + +The taste for flowers--every where increasing among us--is an omen of +good. Let us adorn our parlors, door-ways, yards, and road-sides with +trees, and shrubs, and flowers. What a delight do they give to the +passer-by! What favorable impressions do they, at once, excite towards +those who cultivate them for their own gratification, and find, after +all, their chief pleasure in the gratification which they afford to +others! What an affecting charm--associated as it is with some of the +best sentiments of our nature--do they give to the sad dwelling-places +of the departed and beloved! + + + + +TIME. + + + "I saw the leaves gliding down a brook; + Swift the brook ran, and bright the sun burned: + The sere and the verdant, the same course they took-- + And sped gayly and fast--but they never returned. + And I thought how the years of a man pass away-- + Threescore and ten--and then where are they?" + + +"Threescore years and ten," thought I to myself, as I walked, one rainy +morning, as a sailor walks the quarter-deck, up and down a short alcove, +extending before the windows of a modern house. It was one of those days +in June, in which our summer-hopes take umbrage at what we call +unseasonable weather, though no season was ever known to pass without +them. Unlike the rapid and delightful showers of warmer days, suddenly +succeeding to the sunshine, when the parched vegetables and arid earth +seize with avidity, and imbibe the moisture ere it becomes unpleasant to +our feelings, there had fallen a drizzling rain throughout the night; +the saturated soil returned to the atmosphere the humidity it could no +longer absorb; and there it hung, in chilling thickness, between rain +and fog. The birds did not sing, and the flowers did not open, for the +cold drop was on their cheek, and no sunbeam was there to expand them. +Nature itself wore the garb of sadness, and man's too dependent spirits +were ready to assume it--those, at least, that were not so happy as to +find means of forgetting it. Such was the case with my unfortunate self. + +I had descended to the breakfast-room, at the usual hour, but no one +appeared; I looked for a book, but found none but an almanac. The books +were kept in the library--beyond all dispute their proper place, had I +not been in a humor to think otherwise. The house was too hot, and the +external air was too cold; and I was fain to betake myself to that last +resort of the absolutely idle--a mechanical movement of the body up and +down a given space. And, from the alcove where I walked, I heard the +ticking of the timepiece; and, as I passed the window, I saw the hands +advance; every time I had returned, they had gone a little farther. +"Threescore years and ten," said I to myself; "and a third or fourth of +it is nature's claim for indispensable repose--and many a day consumed +on the bed of sickness--and many a year by the infirmities of age--and +some part of all necessarily sacrificed to the recruiting of the health +by exercise. And what do we with the rest?" Nothing answered me but the +ticking of the clock, of which the hands were traversing between eight +and nine. They had nearly met, at the appointed hour, when the party +began to assemble within; and each one commenced, for aught I could +discover, the functions of the day, for neither their appearance nor +their remarks gave any intimation that they had been previously +employed. One, indeed, declared the weather made her so idle she had +scarcely found strength to dress herself; another confessed he had +passed an additional hour in bed, because the day promised him so little +to do up. One by one, as they dropped in, the seats at the +breakfast-table were filled; and, as a single newspaper was all the +apparent means of mental occupation, I anticipated some interesting +conversation. + +I waited and I watched. One ran the point of his fork into the +table-cloth; another balanced her spoon on the tea-cup; a third told +backwards and forwards the rings on her fingers, as duly as a friar +tells his beads. As such actions sometimes are the symptoms of mental +occupation, I began to anticipate the brilliant results of so much +thinking. I cried, hem! in hopes to rouse them to expression--and not +quite unsuccessfully: for one remarked, it was a wretched day; another +wished it was fine; and a third hoped it shortly would be so. Meantime, +the index of the clock went round; it was gaining close upon ten before +all had withdrawn from the table. My eye followed one to the +window-place; where, with her back to the wall, and her eyes fixed +without, she passed a full half hour in gazing at the prospect without, +or wishing, perhaps, the mist did not prevent her seeing it. A very +young lady was so busy in pulling the dead leaves from a geranium, and +crumbling them in her fingers, I could not doubt but some important +purpose was in the task. A third resumed the newspaper he had read for a +whole hour before, and betook himself, at last, to the advertisements. A +fourth repaired to the alcove, gathered some flowers, picked them to +pieces, threw them away again, and returned. "Cease thy prating, thou +never-resting time-piece!" said I to myself, "for no one heeds thy tale. +What is it to us that each one of thy tickings cuts a link from our +brief chain of life? Time is the gift of Heaven, but man has no use for +it!" + +I had scarcely thought out the melancholy reflection, when a young lady +entered with an elegant work-box, red without and blue within, and +filled with manifold conveniences for the pursuance of her art. Glad was +I most truly at the sight. By the use of the needle, the naked may be +clothed; ingenuity may economize her means, and have more to spare for +those who need it; invention may multiply the ways of honest +subsistence, and direct the ignorant to the use of them. Most glad was +I, therefore, that the signal of industry drew more than one wanderer to +the same pursuit, though not till much time had been consumed in going +in and out, and up and down, in search of the materials. All were found +at last; the party worked, and I, as usual, listened. "I think this +trimming," said one, "will repay me for my trouble, though it has cost +me three months' work already, and it will be three months more before +it is finished." "Indeed!" rejoined her friend; "I wish I were half as +industrious; but I have been working six weeks at this handkerchief, and +have not had time to finish it: now the fashion is passed, and I shall +not go on." "How beautifully you are weaving that necklace! Is it not +very tedious?" "Yes, almost endless; but I delight in the work, +otherwise I should not do it, for the beads cost almost as much as I +could buy it for." "I should like to begin one this morning," interposed +a fourth, "but the milliner has sent home my bonnet so ill-trimmed, it +will take me all the day to alter it: the bow is on the wrong side, and +the trimming on the edge is too broad. It is very tiresome to spend all +one's life in altering things we pay so much for." "I wish," said a +little girl at the end of the table, "that I might work some trimmings +for my frock, but I am obliged to do this plain work first. The poor +lame girl in the village, who is almost starving, would do it for me for +a shilling, but I must save my allowance this week to buy a French +trinket I have taken a fancy to." "Poor thing! she is much to be +pitied," said the lady of the trimming; "if I had time, I would make her +some clothes." + +And so they worked, and so they talked, till I and the time-piece had +counted many an hour which they took no account of, when one of them +yawned, and said, "How tedious are these wet days; it is really +impossible to spin out one's time without a walk." "I am surprised you +find it so," rejoined the lady of the beads; "I can rarely take time +for walking, though keeping the house makes me miserably languid." + +And so the morning passed. It was nearly two o'clock, and the company +dispersed to their apartments. I pretend not to know what they did +there; but each one returned between three and four in an altered dress. +And then half an hour elapsed, in which, as I understood from their +impatience, they were waiting for dinner; each in turn complaining of +the waste of time occasioned by its delay, and the little use it would +be to go about any thing when it was so near. And as soon as dinner was +over, they began to wait for tea with exactly the same complainings. And +the tea came, and, cheered by the vivifying draught, one did repair to +the instrument, and began a tune; one did take up a pencil, and prepare +to draw; and one almost opened a book. But, alas! the shades of night +were growing fast:--ten minutes had scarcely elapsed, before each one +resigned her occupation, with a murmur at the darkness of the weather; +and, though some persons suggested that there were such things as lamps +and candles, it was agreed to be a pity to have lights so early in the +midst of summer, and so another half hour escaped. + +The lights, when they came, would have failed to relumine an expectation +in my bosom, had not their beams disclosed the forms of various books, +which one and another had brought in for the evening's amusement. Again +I watched and again I listened. "I wish I had something to do, mamma," +said the little girl. "Why do you not take a book, and read?" rejoined +her mother. "My books are all up stairs," she replied; "and it is so +near bedtime, it is not worth while to bring them down." "This is the +best novel I ever read," said a lady, somewhat older, turning the leaves +over so very fast, that those who are not used to this manner of +reading, might suppose she found nothing in it worthy of attention. "I +dare say it is," said another, whose eyes had been fixed for half an +hour on the same page of Wordsworth's Poems; "but I have no time to read +novels." "I wish I had time to read any thing," said a third, whom I had +observed already to have been perusing attentively the title-page of +every book on the table, publisher's name, date, and all; while a fourth +was too intensely engaged in studying the blue cover of a magazine, to +make any remark whatever. + +And now I was much amused to perceive with what frequency eyes were +turned upon the dial-plate, through all the day so little regarded. +Watches were drawn out, compared, and pronounced too slow. With some +difficulty, one was found that had outrun its fellows, and, determined +to be right, gave permission to the company to disperse, little more +than twelve hours from the time of their assembling, to recover, as I +supposed, during the other twelve, dressing and undressing included, the +effect of their mental and bodily exertions. + +"So!" I exclaimed, as soon as I found myself alone, "twelve times round +yonder dial-plate those little hands have stolen, and twelve times more +they may now go round unheeded. They who are gone to rest, have a day +less to live, and record has been made in heaven of that day's use. Will +He who gave, ask no reckoning for his gifts? The time, the thoughts, the +talents; the improvement we might have made, and made not; the good we +might have done, and did not; the health, and strength, and intellect, +that may not be our's to-morrow, and have not been used to-day; will not +conscience whisper of it ere they sleep to-night? The days of man were +shortened upon earth by reason of the wickedness the Creator saw. +Threescore years and ten are now his portion, and often not half the +number. They pause not; they loiter not: the hours strike on, and they +may even go, for it seems they are all too much." + +The young, with minds as yet unstored, full of error, full of ignorance +in all that it behooves them most to know, unfit alike as yet for earth +or heaven--the old, whose sum of life is almost told, and but a brief +space remaining to repair their mistakes and redeem the time they have +lost--the simple and ungifted, who, having from nature but little, need +the more assiduity to fulfill their measure of usefulness, and make that +little do the most it may--the clever and highly talented, who have an +almost appalling account to render for the much received--they all have +time to waste. But let them remember, time is not their own; not a +moment of it; but is the grant of Heaven; and Heaven gives nothing +without a purpose and an end. Every hour that is wasted, fails of that +purpose; and in so far as it is wasted or ill-spent, the gift of Heaven +is misused, and the misuse is to be answered for. Methinks I would be +allowed to whisper nightly in the ears of my young friends as they lie +down to rest, "How many minutes have you lost to-day, that might have +been employed in your own improvement, in our Maker's service, or for +your fellow-creature's good?" + + + + +NOVEL-READING. + + +Novel-reading produces a morbid appetite for excitement. The object of +the novelist, generally, is to produce the highest possible degree of +excitement, both of the mind and the passions. The object is very +similar to that of intoxicating liquors on the body: hence, the +confirmed novel-reader becomes a kind of _literary inebriate_, to whom +the things of _entity_ have no attractions, and whose thirst cannot be +slaked, even with the water of life. And as intoxication enfeebles the +body, and engenders indolent habits, so this unnatural stimulus +enfeebles the intellectual powers, induces mental indolence, and unfits +the mind for vigorous efforts. Nothing less stimulating than its +accustomed aliment can rouse such a mind to action, or call forth its +energies; and then, being under the influence of mental intoxication, +which dethrones reason and destroys the power of self-control, they are +always misdirected. + +It also promotes a sickly sensibility. Dr. Brigham, speaking of the too +powerful excitement of the female mind, says: "In them the nervous system +naturally predominates. They are endowed with quicker sensibility and +far more active imagination than men. Their emotions are more intense, +and their senses alive to more delicate impressions. They therefore +require great attention, lest this exquisite sensibility--which, when +properly and naturally developed, constitutes the greatest excellence of +woman--should either become excessive by too strong excitement, or +suppressed by misdirected education." Novel-reading produces just the +kind of excitement calculated to develop this excessive and diseased +sensibility; and the effect is, to fill the mind with imaginary fears, +and produce excessive alarm and agitation at the prospect of danger, the +sight of distress, or the presence of unpleasant objects; while no place +is found for the exercise of genuine sympathy for real objects of +compassion. That sensibility which weeps over imaginary woes of imaginary +beings, calls forth but imaginary sympathy. It is too refined to be +excited by the _vulgar_ objects of compassion presented in real life, or +too excitable to be of any avail in the relief of real distress. It may +faint at the sight of blood, but it will shrink back from binding up the +wound. If you wish to become weak-headed, nervous, and good for nothing, +read novels. I have seen an account of a young lady, who had become so +nervous and excitable, in consequence of reading novels, that her head +would be turned by the least appearance of danger, real or imaginary. As +she was riding in a carriage over a bridge, in company with her mother +and sister, she became frightened at some fancied danger, caught hold of +the reins, and backed the carriage off the bridge, down a precipice, +dashing them to pieces. + +This excessive sensibility renders its possessor exquisitely alive to +all those influences which are unfriendly to human happiness, while it +diminishes the power of endurance. Extreme sensibility, especially in a +female, is a great misfortune, rendering the ills of life insupportable. +Great care should therefore be taken that, while genuine sensibility is +cherished, its extremes should be avoided, and the mind fortified by +strengthening the higher powers. + +Novel-reading strengthens the passions, weakens the virtues, and +diminishes the power of self-control. Multitudes may date their ruin +from the commencement of this kind of reading; and many more, who have +been rescued from the snare, will regret, to the end of their days, its +influence in the early formation of their character. + +It is, too, a great waste of time. Few will pretend that they read +novels with any higher end in view than _mere amusement_; while, by the +strong excitement they produce, they impose a heavier tax on both mind +and body than any other species of mental effort. If any thing valuable +is to be derived from them, it can be obtained with far less expense of +time, and with safety to the morals, from other sources. No Christian, +who feels the obligation of "redeeming the time, because the days are +evil," will fail to feel the force of this remark. We have no more right +to squander our time and waste our energies in frivolous pursuits, than +we have to waste our money in extravagant expenditures. We are as much +the stewards of God in respect to the one as the other. + + + + +FEMALE ROMANCE. + + +Most women are inclined to be romantic. This tendency is not confined to +the young or to the beautiful, to the intellectual or to the refined. +Every woman, capable of strong feeling, is susceptible of romance; and, +though its degree may depend on external circumstances, or education, or +station, or excitement, it generally exists, and requires only a +stimulus for its development. + +Romance indeed contributes much to the charm of the female character. +Without some degree of it, no woman can be interesting; and, though its +excess is a weakness, and one which receives but little indulgence, +there is nothing truly generous and disinterested which does not imply +its existence. It is that poetry of sentiment which imparts to character +or incident something of the beautiful or the sublime; which elevates us +to a higher sphere; which gives an ardor to affection, a life to +thought, a glow to imagination; and which lends so warm and sunny a hue +to the portraiture of life, that it ceases to appear the vulgar, and +cold, and dull, and monotonous reality, which common sense alone would +make it. + +But it is this opposition, between romance and sobriety, that excites +so strong a prejudice against the former: it is associated, in the minds +of many, with folly alone. A romantic, silly girl, is the object of +their contempt; and they so recoil from this personification of +sentiment, that their chief object seems to be to divest themselves +altogether of its delusion. Life is to them a mere calculation; +expediency is their maxim; propriety their rule; profit, ease, or +comfort their aim; and they have at least this advantage, that while +minds of higher tone and hearts of superior sensibility are often +harassed and wounded, and even withered, in their passage through life, +they proceed in their less adventurous career, neither chilled by the +coldness, nor sickened by the meanness, nor disappointed by the +selfishness of the world. They virtually admit, though they often +theoretically deny, the baseness of human nature; and, strangers to +disinterestedness themselves, they do not expect to meet with it in +others. They are content with a low degree of enjoyment, and are thus +exempted from much poignant suffering; and it is only when the +casualties of life interfere with their individual ease, that we can +perceive that they are not altogether insensible. + +A good deal of this phlegmatic disposition exists in many who are +capable of higher feeling. Such persons are so afraid of sensibility, +that they repress in themselves every thing that savors of it; and, +though we may occasionally detect it in the mounting flush, or in the +glistening tear, or in the half-stifled sigh, it is in vain that we +endeavor to elicit any more explicit avowal. They are ashamed even of +what they do betray; and one would imagine that the imputation of +sensibility were almost a reflection on their character. They must not +feel, or, at least, they must not allow that they feel; for feeling has +led so many persons wrong, that decorum can be preserved, they think, +only by indifference. And they end in being really as callous as they +wish to appear, and stifle emotion so successfully, that at length it +ceases to give them uneasiness. + +Such is often the case with many who pass through life with great +decorum; and though women have naturally more sensibility than the other +sex, they, too, sometimes consider its indulgence altogether wrong. Yet, +if its excess is foolish, it is surely a mistake to attempt to suppress +it altogether; for such attempt will either produce a dangerous +revulsion, or, if successful, will spoil the character. One would rather +almost that a woman were ever so romantic, than that she always thought, +and felt, and spoke by rule; and should deem it preferable that her +sensibility brought upon her occasional distress, than that she always +calculated the degree of her feeling. + +Life has its romance, and to this it owes much of its charm. It is not +that every woman is a heroine and every individual history a novel; but +there are scenes and incidents in real life so peculiar, and so poetic, +that we need not be indebted to fiction for the development of romance. +Christians will trace such scenes and incidents immediately to +Providence, and they do so with affectionate and confiding hearts; and +the more affecting or remarkable these may be, the more clearly do they +recognize the Divine interference. They regard them as remembrances of +Heaven, to recall to them their connection with it, and remind them that +whatever there may be to interest or excite their feelings here, there +is infinitely more to affect and warm their hearts in the glorious +prospects beyond. + +It is natural that women should be very susceptible to such impressions; +that they should view life with almost a poetic eye; and that they +should be peculiarly sensitive to its vicissitudes. And though a +Quixotic quest after adventures is as silly as it is vain, and to invest +every trifle with importance, or to see something marvelous in every +incident, is equally absurd; there is no reason why the imagination +should not grasp whatever is picturesque, and the mind dwell upon +whatever is impressive, and the heart warm with whatever is affecting, +in the changes and the chances of our pilgrimage. There is indeed a +great deal of what is mean and low in all that is connected with this +world; quite enough to sully the most glowing picture; but let us +sometimes view life with its golden tints; let us sometimes taste its +ambrosial dews; let us sometimes breathe its more ethereal atmosphere; +and let us do so, not as satisfied with any thing it can afford--not as +entranced by any of its illusions--but as those who catch, even in this +dull mirror, a shadowy delineation of a brighter world, and who pant +for what is pure, celestial, and eternal. This is surely better than +clipping the wings of imagination, or restraining the impulses of +feeling, or reducing all our joys and sorrows to mere matters of +calculation or of sense. + +They are indeed to be pitied who are in the opposite extreme--whose +happiness or misery is entirely ideal; but we have within us such a +capacity for both, independent of all outward circumstances, and such a +power of extracting either from every circumstance, that it is surely +more wise to discipline such a faculty, than to disallow its influence. + +Youth is of course the season for romance. Its buoyant spirit must soar +till weighed down by earthly care. It is in youth that the feelings are +warm and the fancy fresh, and that there has been no blight to chill the +one or to wither the other. And it is in youth that hope lends its +cheering ray, and love its genial influence; that our friends smile upon +us, our companions do not cross us, and our parents are still at hand to +cherish us in their bosoms, and sympathize in all our young and ardent +feelings. It is then that the world seems so fair, and our fellow-beings +so kind, that we charge with spleen any who would prepare us for +disappointment, and accuse those of misanthropy who would warn our +too-confiding hearts. And though, in maturer life, we may smile at the +romance of youth, and lament, perhaps, its aberrations, yet we shall not +regret the depth of our young emotions, the disinterestedness of our +young affections, and that enthusiasm of purpose, which, alas! we soon +grow too wise to cherish. + + + + +BEHAVIOR TO GENTLEMEN. + + +What a pity it is that the thousandth chance of a gentleman's becoming +your lover should deprive you of the pleasure of a free, unembarrassed, +intellectual intercourse with all the single men of your acquaintance! +Yet, such is too commonly the case with young ladies who have read a +great many novels and romances, and whose heads are always running on +love and lovers. + +Where, as in this country, there is a fair chance of every woman's being +married who wishes it, the more things are left to their natural course +the better. Where girls are brought up to be good daughters and sisters, +to consider the development of their own intellectual and moral natures +as the great business of life, and to view matrimony as a good, only +when it comes unsought, and marked by such a fitness of things, inward +and outward, as shows it to be one of the appointments of God, they will +fully enjoy their years of single life, free from all anxiety about +being established, and will generally be the first sought in marriage by +the wise and good of the other sex; whereas those who are brought up to +think the great business of life is to get married, and who spend their +lives in plans and manoeuvres to bring it about, are the very ones +who remain single, or, what is worse, make unhappy matches. + +Very young girls are apt to suppose, from what they observe in older +ones, that there is some peculiar manner to be put on in talking to +gentlemen, and not knowing exactly what it is, they are embarrassed and +reserved; others observe certain airs and looks, used by their elders in +this intercourse, and try to imitate them as a necessary part of company +behavior, and so become affected, and lose that first of +charms--simplicity, naturalness. To such I would say, your companions +are in error; it requires no peculiar manner, nothing to be put on, in +order to converse with gentlemen any more than with ladies; and the more +pure and elevated your sentiments are, and the better cultivated your +intellect is, the easier will you find it to converse pleasantly with +all. If, however, you happen to have no facility in expressing yourself, +and you find it very difficult to converse with persons whom you do not +know well, you can still be an intelligent and agreeable listener, and +you can show by your ready smile of sympathy that you would be sociable +if you could. There is no reason in the world why any one, who is not +unhappy, should sit in the midst of gay companions with a face so solemn +and unmoved, that she should seem not to belong to the company; that she +should look so glum and forbidding that strangers should feel repulsed, +and her best friends disappointed. If you cannot look entertained and +pleasant, you had better stay away, for politeness requires some +expression of sympathy in the countenance, as much as a civil answer on +the tongue. + +Never condescend to use any little arts or manoeuvres to secure a +pleasant beau at a party, or during an excursion; remember that a woman +must always wait to be chosen, and "not unsought be won," even for an +hour. When you are so fortunate as to be attended by the most agreeable +gentleman present, do not make any effort to keep him entirely to +yourself; that flatters him too much, and exposes you to be joked about. + +How strange a thing it is, in the constitution of English and American +society, that the subject, of all others the most important and the most +delicate, should be that on which every body is most given to joke and +banter their friends! Much mischief has been done by this coarse +interference of the world, in what ought to be the most private and +sacred of our earthly concerns; and every refined, delicate, and +high-minded girl should set her face against it, and, by scrupulously +refraining from such jokes herself, give no one a right to indulge in +them at her expense. + +As soon as young ladies go into general society, they are liable to +receive attentions that indicate a particular regard, and, long before +they are really old enough to form any such ties, they often receive +matrimonial overtures; it is therefore highly necessary to know how to +treat them. The offer of a man's heart and hand is the greatest +compliment he can pay you, and, however undesirable to you those gifts +may be, they should be courteously and kindly declined; and since a +refusal is, to most men, not only a disappointment, but a mortification, +it should always be prevented, if possible. Men have various ways of +cherishing and declaring their attachment; those who indicate the bias +of their feelings in many intelligible ways, before they make a direct +offer, can generally be spared the pain of a refusal. If you do not mean +to accept a gentleman who is paying you very marked attentions, you +should avoid receiving him whenever you can; you should not allow him to +escort you; you should show your displeasure when joked about him; and, +if sounded by a mutual friend, let your want of reciprocal feelings be +very apparent. + +You may, however, be taken entirely by surprise, because there are men +who are so secret in these matters that they do not let even the object +of their affections suspect their preference, until they suddenly +declare themselves lovers and suitors. In such a case as that, you will +need all your presence of mind, or the hesitation produced by surprise +may give rise to false hopes. If you have any doubt upon the matter, you +may fairly ask time to consider of it, on the grounds of your never +having thought of the gentleman in the light of a lover before; but, if +you are resolved against the suit, endeavor to make your answer so +decided as to finish the affair at once. Inexperienced girls sometimes +feel so much the pain they are inflicting, that they use phrases which +feed a lover's hopes; but this is mistaken tenderness; your answer +should be as decided as it is courteous. + +Whenever an offer is made in writing, you should reply to it as soon as +possible; and, having in this case none of the embarrassment of a +personal interview, you can make such a careful selection of words as +will best convey your meaning. If the person is estimable, you should +express your sense of his merit, and your gratitude for his preference, +in strong terms; and put your refusal of his hand on the score of your +not feeling for him that peculiar preference necessary to the union he +seeks. This makes a refusal as little painful as possible, and soothes +the feelings you are obliged to wound. The gentleman's letter should be +returned in your reply, and your lips should be closed upon the subject +for ever afterwards. It is his secret, and you have no right to tell it +to any one; but, if your parents are your confidential friends on all +other occasions, he will not blame you for telling them. + +Never think the less of a man because he has been refused, even if it be +by a lady whom you do not highly value. It is nothing to his +disadvantage. In exercising their prerogative of making the first +advances, the wisest will occasionally make great mistakes, and the best +will often be drawn into an affair of this sort against their better +judgment, and both are but too happy if they escape with only the pain +of being refused. So far from its being any reason for not accepting a +wise and good man when he offers himself to you, it should only +increase your thankfulness to the overruling providence of God, which +reserved him for you, through whose instrumentality he is still free to +choose. + +There is no sure remedy for disappointed affection but vital religion; +that giving of the heart to God which enables a disciple to say, "Whom +have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none on earth that I desire in +comparison of Thee." The cure for a wounded heart, which piety affords, +is so complete, that it makes it possible for the tenderest and most +constant natures to love again. When a character is thus disciplined and +matured, its sympathies will be called forth only by superior minds; +and, if a kindred spirit presents itself as a partner for life, and is +accepted, the union is likely to be such as to make the lady rejoice +that her former predilection was overruled. + + + + +MARRIAGE. + + +Some young persons indulge a fastidiousness of feeling in relation to +this subject, as though it were indelicate to speak of it. Others make +it the principal subject of their thoughts and conversation; yet they +seem to think it must never be mentioned but in jest. Both these +extremes should be avoided. Marriage is an ordinance of God, and +therefore a proper subject of thought and discussion, with reference to +personal duty. It is a matter of great importance, having a direct +bearing upon the glory of God and the happiness of individuals. It +should, therefore, never be approached with levity. But, as it requires +no more attention than what is necessary in order to understand present +duty, it would be foolish to make it a subject of constant thought, and +silly to make it a common topic of conversation. It is a matter which +should be weighed deliberately and seriously by every young person. It +was ordained by the Lord at the creation, as suited to the state of man +as a social being, and necessary to the design for which he was created. +There is a sweetness and comfort in the bosom of one's own family which +can be enjoyed no where else. In early life this is supplied by our +youthful companions, who feel in unison with us. But as a person who +remains single, advances in life, the friends of his youth form new +attachments, in which he is incapable of participating. Their feelings +undergo a change, of which he knows nothing. He is gradually left alone. +No heart beats in unison with his own. His social feelings wither for +want of an object. As he feels not in unison with those around him, his +habits also become peculiar, and perhaps repulsive, so that his company +is not desired; hence arises the whimsical attachments of such persons +to domestic animals, or to other objects that can be enjoyed in +solitude. As the dreary winter of age advances, the solitude of this +condition becomes still more chilling. Nothing but that sweet +resignation to the will of God, which religion gives, under all +circumstances, can render such a situation tolerable. But religion does +not annihilate the social affections; it only regulates them. It is +evident, then, by a lawful and proper exercise of these affections, both +our happiness and usefulness may be greatly increased. + +On the other hand, do not consider marriage as _absolutely essential_. +Although it is an ordinance of God, yet he has not absolutely enjoined +it upon all. You _may_, therefore, be in the way of duty while +neglecting it. And the apostle Paul intimates that there may be, with +those who enter this state, a greater tendency of heart toward earthly +objects. There is also an increase of care. "The unmarried woman careth +for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy, both in body and +spirit; but she that is married, careth for the things of the world, +how she may please her husband." But much more has been made of this +than the apostle intended. It has been greatly perverted and abused by +the church of Rome. It must be observed that, in the same chapter, he +advises that "every man have his own wife and every woman her own +husband." And, whatever may be our condition in life, if we seek it with +earnestness and perseverance, God will give us grace sufficient for the +day. But, he says, though it is no sin to marry, nevertheless, "such +shall have trouble in the flesh." It is undoubtedly true that the +enjoyments of conjugal life have their corresponding difficulties and +trials; and if these are enhanced by an unhappy connection, the +situation is insufferable. For this reason, I would have you avoid the +conclusion that marriage is indispensable to happiness. Single life is +certainly to be preferred to a connection with a person who will +diminish instead of increase your happiness. However, the remark of the +apostle, "such shall have trouble in the flesh," doubtless had reference +chiefly to the peculiar troubles of the times, when Christians were +exposed to persecutions, the loss of goods, and even of life itself, for +Christ's sake; the trials of which would be much greater in married than +in single life. + + + + +MARRIAGE HYMN. + + + Not for the summer hour alone, + When skies resplendent shine, + And youth and pleasure fill the throne, + Our hearts and hands we join; + + But for those stern and wintry days + Of sorrow, pain, and fear, + When Heaven's wise discipline doth make + Our earthly journey drear. + + Not for this span of life alone, + Which like a blast doth fly, + And, as the transient flower of grass, + Just blossom--droop, and die; + + But for a being without end, + This vow of love we take; + Grant us, O God! one home at last, + For our Redeemer's sake. + + + + +FEMALE INFLUENCE. + + +Writers of fiction have not unfrequently selected this topic as the +theme for poetry and romance; they have extolled woman as the being +whose eloquence was to soften all the asperities of man, and polish the +naturally rugged surface of his character; charming away his sternness +by her grace; refining his coarseness by her elegance and purity; and +offering in her smiles a reward sufficient to compensate for the hazards +of any enterprise. But while the self-complacency and vanity of many of +our sex have been nourished by such idle praise, how few have been +awakened to a just sense of the deep responsibility which rests upon us, +for the faithful improvement of this talent, and our consequent +accountability for its neglect or perversion! + +It were not a little amusing, if it were not so melancholy, to listen to +the reasoning employed by many ladies, in evading any charges of +non-improvement of this trust. She who perhaps but a moment before may +have listened with the utmost self-complacency to the flattering strains +of the poet, who had invested her sex with every charm calculated to +render them ministering angels to ruder and sterner man, no sooner finds +herself addressed as the possessor of a talent, implying +responsibility, and imposing self-exertion and self-denial in its +exercise, than she instantly disclaims, with capricious diffidence, all +pretensions to influence over others. But we cannot avert accountability +by disclaiming its existence; neither will the disavowal of the +possession of a talent alter the constitution of our nature, which God +has so formed and so fitted to produce impressions in, and receive them +from, kindred minds, that it is impossible for us to _exist_ without +exerting a continual and daily influence over others; either of a +pernicious or salutary character. + +"Woman," to use the words of an accomplished living writer, "has been +sent on a higher mission than man; it may be a more arduous, a more +difficult one. It is to manifest and bring to a full development certain +attributes which belong, it is true, to our common nature, but which, +owing to man's peculiar relation to the external world, he could not so +well bring to perfection. Man is sent forth to subdue the earth, to +obtain command over the elements, to form political communities; and to +him, therefore, belong the more hardy and austere virtues; and as they +are made subservient to the relief of our physical wants, and as their +results are more obvious to the senses, it is not surprising that they +have acquired in his eyes an importance which does not in strictness +belong to them. But humility, meekness, gentleness, love, are also +important attributes of our nature, and it would present a sad and +melancholy aspect without them. But let us ask, will man, with his +present characteristic propensities, thrown much more than woman, by his +immediate duties, upon material things; obliged to be conversant with +objects of sense, and exposed to the rude conflicts which this leads to; +will he bring out these virtues in their _full_ beauty and strength? We +think not--even with the assistance which religion promises. These +principles, with many others linked with them, have been placed more +particularly in the keeping of woman; her social condition being +evidently more favorable to their full development." + +Let us ever remember that every aggregate number, however great, is +composed of units; and of course, were _each_ American female but +faithful to her God, to her family, and to her country, then would a +mighty, sanctified influence go forth through the wide extent of our +beloved land, diffusing moral health and vigor through every part, and +strengthening it for the endurance of greater trials than have as yet +menaced its existence. A spirit of insubordination and rebellion to +lawful authority pervades our land; and where are these foes effectually +to be checked, if not at their fountain head--in the nursery? Oh! if +every American mother had but labored faithfully in that sacred +inclosure, from the period of our revolutionary struggle, by teaching +her children the great lesson of practical obedience to parental +authority; then would submission to constituted authority, as well as to +the will of God, have been far more prevalent in our land, and the +whole aspect of her affairs would have been widely different. + +How much more honorable to woman is such a position, than that in which +some modern reformers have endeavored to place her, or rather _force_ +her. Instead of seeking hopelessly, and in direct opposition to the +delicacy of her sex, to obtain for her political privileges; instead of +bringing her forward as the competitor of man in the public arena; we +would mark out for her a sphere of duty that is widely different. In the +domestic circle, "her station should be at man's side, to comfort, to +encourage, to assist;" while, in the Christian temple, we would assign +her an ennobling, but a feminine part,--to be the guardian of the sacred +and spiritual fire, which is ever to be kept alive in its purity and +brilliancy on the altar of God. She should be the vestal virgin in the +Christian temple--the priestess, as it were, of a shrine more hallowed +and honorable than that of Delphos. + + + + +A DIFFICULT QUESTION. + + +I remember, many years ago, to have occupied the corner of a +window-seat, in a small but very elegant house in Montague-square, +during a morning visit--more interesting than such visits usually are, +because there was something to talk about. The ladies who met, had each +a child, I believe an only girl, just of the age when mothers begin to +ask every body, and tell every body, how their children are to be +educated. The daughter of the house, the little Jemima, was sitting by +my side; a delicate little creature, with something very remarkable in +her expression. The broad projecting brow seemed too heavy for its +underwork; and by its depression, gave a look of sadness to the +countenance, till excited animation raised the eye, beaming vivacity and +strength. The sallow paleness of the complexion was so entirely in +unison with the features, and the stiff dark locks which surrounded +them, it was difficult to say whether it was, or was not, improved by +the color that came and went every time she was looked at or spoken of. +I was, on this occasion, a very attentive listener: for, being not yet a +woman, it was very essential to me to learn what sort of a one I had +better be; and many, indeed, were my counter-resolutions, as the +following debate proceeded: + +"You are going to send your daughter to school I hear?" said Mrs. A., +after some discourse of other matters. + +Mrs. W. replied, "Really, I have not quite determined; I scarcely know +what to do for the best. I am only anxious that she should grow up like +other girls; for of all things in the world, I have the greatest horror +of a woman of talent. I had never thought to part from her, and am still +averse to sending her from home; but she is so excessively fond of +books, I can get her to do nothing else but learn; she is as grave and +sensible as a little woman. I think, if she were among other girls, she +would perhaps get fond of play, and be more like a child. I wish her to +grow up a quiet, domestic girl, and not too fond of learning. I mean her +to be accomplished; but, at present, I cannot make her distinguish one +tune from another." + +Mrs. A. answered, "Indeed! we differ much in this respect. I am +determined to make Fanny a superior woman, whatever it may cost me. Her +father is of the same mind; he has a perfect horror of silly, +empty-headed women; all our family are literary; Fanny will have little +fortune, but we can afford to give her every advantage in her education, +the best portion we can leave her. I would rather see her distinguished +for talents, than for birth or riches. We have acted upon this intention +from her birth. She already reads well, but I am sorry to say she hates +it, and never will open a book unless she is obliged; she shows no taste +for any thing but making doll's clothes and spinning a top." + +At this moment a hearty laugh from little Fanny, who had set herself to +play behind the curtain, drew my attention towards her. She was twice as +big as my companion on the window-seat, though but a few months older; +her broad, flat face, showed like the moon in its zenith, set in thin, +silky hair: and with eyes as pretty as they could be, expressing neither +thought nor feeling, but abundance of mirth and good-humor. The coloring +of her cheek was beautiful; but one wished it gone sometimes, were it +only for the pleasure of seeing it come again. The increasing +seriousness of the conversation recalled my attention. + +"I am surprised," Mrs. W. was saying, "at your wishes on the subject. I +am persuaded a woman of great talent is neither so happy, so useful, nor +so much beloved, as one or more ordinary powers." + +"I should like to know why you think this," rejoined her friend; "it +appears to me she should be much more so." + +"My view of it is this," Mrs. W. replied: "a woman's sphere of +usefulness, of happiness, and of affection, is a domestic circle; and +even beyond it, all her task of life is to please and to be useful." + +"In this we are quite agreed," said Mrs. A.; "but, since we are well set +for an argument, let us have a little method in it. You would have your +child useful, happy, and beloved, and so would I; but you think the +means to this end, is to leave her mind uncultivated, narrow, and empty, +and consequently weak." + +"This, is not my meaning," replied Mrs. W.; "there are many steps +between stupidity and talent, ignorance and learning. I will suppose my +child what I wish her to be, about as much taught as women in general, +who are esteemed clever, well-mannered, and well-accomplished. I think +it is all that can contribute to her happiness. If her mind is occupied, +as you will say, with little things, those little things are sufficient +to its enjoyment, and much more likely to be within her reach than the +greater matters that fill greater minds. My less accomplished character +will enjoy herself where your superior woman would go to sleep, or +hopelessly wish she might. In short, she will find fellowship and +reciprocation in every little mind she meets with, while yours is left +to pine in the solitude of her own greatness." + +At the close of this speech, I felt quite determined that I would not be +such a woman. + +Mrs. A. rejoined, "You have left my genius in a doleful condition, +though I question whether you will persuade her to come down. I will +admit, however, for I am afraid I must, that the woman of talent is less +likely to find reciprocation, or to receive enjoyment from ordinary +people and ordinary circumstances; but then she is like the camel that +traverses the desert safely where others perish, because it carries its +sustenance in its own bosom. I never remember to have heard a really +sensible and cultivated woman complain of _ennui_, under any +circumstances--no small balance on the side of enjoyment positive, is +misery escaped. But, to leave jesting, admitting that the woman of more +elevated mind derives less pleasure from the adventitious circumstances +that surround her, from what money can purchase, and a tranquil mind +enjoy, and activity gather, of the passing flowers of life--she has +enjoyments, independent of them, in the treasures of her own intellect. +Where she finds reciprocation, it is a delight of which the measure +compensates the rareness; and where she finds nothing else to enjoy, she +can herself. And when the peopled walks of life become a wilderness; and +the assiduities of friendship rest unclaimed; and sensible +gratifications are withered before the blight of poverty; and the foot +is too weary, and the eye is too dim, to go after what no one remembers +to bring; still are her resources untouched. Poverty cannot diminish her +revenue, or friendlessness leave her unaccompanied, or privation of +every external incitement consign her to the void of unoccupied powers. +She will traverse the desert, for her store is with her; and if, as you +have suggested, she be doomed to supply others what no one pays her +back, there is One who has said, 'It is more blessed to give than to +receive.'" + +At this point of the discussion, I made up my mind to be a very sensible +woman. + +Mrs. W. resumed: "You will allow, of course, that selfish enjoyment is +not the object of existence; and I think, on the score of usefulness, I +shall carry my poor, dependent house-wife, far above yours. And for this +very reason: The duties which Providence has assigned to woman, do not +require extraordinary intellect. She can manage her husband's household, +and economize his substance; and if she cannot entertain his friends +with her talents, she can at least give them a welcome; and be his nurse +in sickness, and his watchful companion in health, if not capable of +sharing his more intellectual occupations. She can be the support and +comfort of her parents in the decline of life, or of her children in +their helplessness, according as her situation may be. And out of her +house she may be the benefactress and example of a whole neighborhood; +she may comfort the afflicted, and clothe and feed the poor, and visit +the sick, and advise the ignorant; while, by the domestic industry, and +peaceful, unaspiring habits, with which she plods, as you may please to +call it, through the duties of her station, whether higher or lower, she +is a perpetual example to those beneath her, to like sober assiduity in +their own, and to her children's children to follow in the path in which +she leads them. She may be superintending the household occupations, or +actually performing them; giving employment by her wealth to others' +ingenuity, or supplying the want of it by her own, according as her +station is, but still she will make many happy. + +"I am not so prejudiced as to say that your woman of talent will refuse +these duties; of course, if she have principle, she will not. But +literary pursuits must at least divide her attention, if not unfit her +altogether for the tasks the order of Providence has assigned her; she +will distaste such duties, if she does not refuse them; while the +distance at which her attainments place her from ordinary minds, forbid +all attempts to imitate or follow her." + +"You have drawn a picture," answered Mrs. A., "which would convert half +the world, if they were not of your mind already, as I believe they are. +It is a picture so beautiful, I would not blot it with the shadow of my +finger. I concede that talent is not necessary to usefulness, and a +woman may fulfill every duty of her station without it. But our question +is of comparative usefulness; and there I have something to say. It is +an axiom that knowledge is power; and, if it is, the greater the +knowledge, the greater should be the power of doing good. To men, +superior intelligence gives power to dispose, control, and govern the +fortunes of others. To women, it gives influence over their minds. The +greater knowledge which she has acquired of the human heart, gives her +access to it in all its subtleties; while her acknowledged superiority +secures that deference to her counsels, which weakness ever pays to +strength. + +"If the circumstances of her condition require it, I believe the greater +will suffice the less, and she will fulfill equally well the duties you +have enumerated; shedding as bright a light upon her household, as if +it bounded her horizon. Nay, more, there may be minds in her household +that need the reciprocation of an equal mind, or the support of a +superior one; there may be spirits in her family that will receive from +the influence of intellect, what they would not from simple and good +intention. There may be other wants in her neighborhood than hunger and +nakedness, and other defaulters than the ignorant and the poor. Whether +she writes, speaks, or acts, the effect is not bounded by time, nor +limited by space. That is worth telling of her, and is repeated from +mouth to mouth, which, in an ordinary person, none would notice. Her +acknowledged superiority gives her a title, as well as a capacity to +speak, where others must be silent, and carry counsel and consolation +where commoner characters might not intrude. + +"The mass of human misery, and human need, and human corruption, is not +confined to the poor, the simple minded, and the child. The husband's +and the parent's cares are not confined to their external commodities, +nor the children's to the well-being of their physical estate. The mind +that could illumine its own solitude, can cheer another's destitution; +the strength that can support itself, can stay another's falling; the +wealth may be unlocked, and supply another's poverty. Those who in +prosperity seek amusement from superior talent, will seek it in +difficulty or advice, and in adversity for support." + +Here I made up my mind to have a great deal of intellect. + +"If I granted your position on the subject of utility," said Mrs. W., "I +am afraid I should prove the world very ungrateful by the remainder of +my argument; which goes, you know, to prove the woman of distinguished +talent less beloved than those who walk the ordinary paths of female +duty. I must take the risk, however; for, of all women in the world, +your women of genius are those I love the least; and I believe, just or +unjust, it is a very common feeling. We are not disposed to love our +superiors in any thing; but least of all, in intellect; one has always +the feeling of playing an equal game, without being sure that no +advantage will be taken of your simplicity. A woman who has the +reputation of talent, is, in this respect, the most unfortunate being on +earth. She stands in society, like a European before a horde of savages, +vainly endeavoring to signify his good intentions. If he approaches +them, they run away; if he recedes, they send their arrows after him. +Every one is afraid to address her, lest they expose to her penetration +their own deficiencies. If she talks, she is supposed to display her +powers; if she holds her tongue, it is attributed to contempt for the +company. I know that talent is often combined with every amiable +quality, and renders the character really the more lovely; but not +therefore the more beloved. It would, if known; but it seldom is known, +because seldom approached near enough to be examined. + +"The simple-minded fear what they do not understand; the double-minded +envy what they cannot reach. For my good, simple housewife, every body +loves her who knows her; and nobody, who does not know her, troubles +themselves about her. But place a woman on an eminence, and every body +thinks they are obliged to like or dislike her; and, being too tenacious +to do the one without good reason, they do the other without any reason +at all. Before we can love each other, there must be sympathy, +assimilation, and, if not equality, at least such an approach to it as +may enable us to understand each other. When any one is much superior to +us, our humility shrinks from the proffers of her love, and our pride +revolts from offering her our own. Real talent is always modest, and +fears often to make advances towards affection, lest it should seem, in +doing so, to presume upon itself; but, having rarely the credit of +timidity, this caution is attributable to pride. Your superior woman, +therefore, will not be generally known or beloved by her own sex, among +whom she may have many admirers, but few equals. + +"I say nothing of marriage, because I am not speculating upon it for my +child, as upon the chances of a well-played game; but it is certain that +the greater number of men are not highly intellectual, and therefore +could not wisely choose a highly intellectual wife, lest they place +themselves in the condition in which a husband should not be--of mental +inferiority." + +"Mrs. W.," answered her friend, "I am aware this is your strongest post; +but I must not give ground without a battle. A great deal I shall yield +you. I shall give up quantity, and stand upon the value of the +remainder. Be it granted, then, that of any twenty people assembled in +society, every one of whom will pronounce your common-place woman to be +very amiable, very good, and very pleasing, ten shall pronounce my +friend too intellectual for their taste, eight shall find her not so +clever as they expected, and, of the other two, one at least shall not +be sure whether they like her or not. Be it granted that, of every five +ladies assembled to gossip freely, and tell out their small cares and +feelings to the sympathizing kindness of your friend, four shall become +silent as wax-work on the entrance of mine. And be it granted that, of +any ten gentlemen to whom yours would be a very proper wife, not more +than one could wisely propose himself to mine. But have I therefore lost +the field? Perhaps she would tell you no; the two in twenty, the one in +five or ten, are of more value, in her estimation, than all the number +else. + +"Things are not apt to be valued by their abundance. On the jeweler's +stall, many a brilliant trinket will disappear, ere the high-priced gem +be asked for; but is it, therefore, the less valued, or the less cared +for? When beloved at all, she is loved permanently; for, in the lapse of +time, that withers the charm of beauty, and blights the simplicity of +youth, her ornaments grow but the brighter for wearing. In proportion +to the depth of the intellect, I believe, is the depth of every thing; +feelings, affections, pleasures, pains, or whatever else the enlarged +capacity conceives. It is difficult perhaps for an inferior mind to +estimate what a superior mind enjoys in the reciprocation of affection. +Attachment, with ordinary persons, is enjoyed to-day, and regretted +to-morrow, and the next day replaced and forgotten; but with these it +never can be forgotten, because it can never be replaced." + +As the argument, thus terminated, converted neither party, it is +needless to say it left me in suspense. Mrs. W. was still determined her +child should not be a superior woman. Mrs. A. was still resolved her +child should be, at all ventures; and I was still undetermined whether I +would endeavor to be a learned woman or not. The little Fanny laughed +aloud, opened her large round eyes, and shouted, "So I will, mamma!" The +little Jemima colored to the ends of her fingers, and lowered still +farther the lashes that veiled her eyes. + + + + +EASILY DECIDED. + + +I was walking with some friends in a retired part of the country. It had +rained for fourteen days before, and I believed it rained then; but +there was a belief among the ladies of that country that it is better to +walk in all weather. The lane was wide enough to pass in file, with +chilly droppings from the boughs above, and rude re-action of the briers +beneath. The clay upon our shoes showed a troublesome affinity to the +clay upon the road. Umbrellas we could not hold up because of the wind. +But it was better to walk than stay at home, so at least my companions +assured me, for exercise and an appetite. After pursuing them, with +hopeless assiduity, for more than a mile, without sight of egress or +sign of termination, finding I had already enough of the one, and +doubting how far the other might be off, I lagged behind, and began to +think how I might amuse myself till their return. + +By one of those fortunate incidents, which they tell me never happen to +any body but a listener, I heard the sound of voices over the hedge. +This was delightful. In this occupation I forgot both mud and rain, +exercise and appetite. The hedge was too thick to see through, and all +that appeared above it was a low chimney, from which I concluded it +concealed a cottage garden. + +"What in the name of wonder, James, can you be doing?" said a voice, +significant of neither youth nor gentleness. + +"I war'nt ye know what I am about," said another, more rudely than +unkindly. + +"I'm not sure of that," rejoined the first; "you've been hacking and +hewing at them trees this four hours, and I do not see, for my part, as +you're like to mend them." + +"Why, mother," said the lad, "you see we have but two trees in all the +garden, and I've been thinking they'd match better if they were alike; +so I've tied up to a pole the boughs of the gooseberry-bush, that used +to spread themselves about the ground, to make it look more like this +thorn; and now I'm going to cut down the thorn to make it look more like +the gooseberry-bush." + +"And what's the good of that?" rejoined the mother; "has not the tree +sheltered us many a stormy night, when the wind would have beaten the +old casement about our ears? and many a scorching noon-tide, hasn't your +father eaten his dinner in its shade? And now, to be sure, because you +are the master, you think you can mend it!" + +"We shall see," said the youth, renewing his strokes. "It's no use as it +is; I dare say you'd like to see it bear gooseberries." + +"No use!" exclaimed the mother; "don't the birds go to roost on the +branches, and the poultry get shelter under it from the rain? and after +all your cutting, I don't see as you're likely to turn a thorn-tree into +a gooseberry-bush!" + +"I don't see why I should not," replied the sage artificer, with a tone +of reflectiveness; "the leaf is near about the same, and there are +thorns on both; if I make that taller and this shorter, and they grow +the same shape, I don't suppose you know why one should bear +gooseberries any more than the other, as wise as you are." + +"Why, to be sure, James," the old woman answered, in a moderate voice, +"I can't say that I do; but I have lived almost through my threescore +years and ten, and I have never heard of gooseberries growing on a +thorn." + +"Haven't you, though?" said James; "but then I have, or something pretty +much like it; for I saw the gardener, over yonder, cutting off the head +of a young pear-tree, and he told me he was going to make it bear +apples." + +"Well," said the mother, seemingly reconciled, "I know nothing of your +new-fangled ways. I only know it was the finest thorn in the parish; +but, to be sure, now they are more match-like and regular." + +I left a story half told. This may seem to be another, but it is in fact +the same. James, in the Sussex-lane, and my friends in Montague-square, +were engaged in the same task, and the result of the one would pretty +fairly measure the successes of the other; both were contravening the +order of nature, and pursuing their own purpose, without consulting the +appointments of Providence. + +Fanny was a girl of common understanding; such indeed as suitable +cultivation might have matured into simple good sense; but from which +her parents' scheme of education could produce nothing but pretension +that could not be supported, and an affectation of what could never be +attained. Conscious of the want of all perceptible talent in her child, +Mrs. A. from the first told the stories of talent opening late, and the +untimely blighting of premature intellect; and, to the last, maintained +the omnipotence of cultivation. + +On every new proof of the smallness of her mind, another science was +added to enlarge it. Languages, dead and living, were to be to her the +keys of knowledge; but they unlocked nothing to Fanny but their own +grammars and vocabularies, which she learned assiduously, without so +much as wondering what they meant. The more dull she proved, the more +earnestly she was plied. She was sent to school to try the spur of +emulation; and brought home again for the advantage of more exclusive +attention. And, as still the progress lagged, all feminine employ and +childlike recreations were prohibited, to gain more time for study. It +cannot be said that Fannny's health was injured by the over action of +her mind; for, having none, it could not be easily acted upon; but, by +perpetual dronish application, and sacrifice of all external things for +the furtherance of this scheme of mental cultivation, her physical +energies were suppressed, and she became heavy, awkward, and inactive. + +Fanny had no pleasure in reading, but she had a pride in having read; +and listened, with no small satisfaction, to her mother's detail of the +authors she was conversant with; beyond her age, and, as some untalented +ventured to suggest, not always suited to her years of innocence. The +arcana of their pages were safe, however, and quite guiltless of her +mind's corruption. Fanny never thought, whatever she might read; what +was in the book, was nothing to her; all her business was to _have_ read +it. Meantime, while the powers he had not were solicited in vain, the +talents she had were neglected and suppressed. Her good-humored +enjoyment of ordinary things, her real taste for domestic arrangement, +and open simplicity of heart, were derided as vulgar and unintellectual. +Her talent for music was thought not worth cultivating; time could not +be spared. Some little capacity she had for drawing, as an imitative +art, was baffled by the determination to teach it her scientifically, +thus rendering it as impossible as every thing else. In short--for why +need I prolong my sketch?--Fanny was prepared by nature to be the _beau +ideal_ of Mrs. W.'s amiable woman. + +Constitutionally active and benevolent, judicious culture might have +made her sensible, and, in common life, intelligent, pleasing, useful, +happy. Nay, I need only refer to the picture of my former paper, to say +what Fanny, well educated, was calculated to become. But this was what +her parents were determined she should not be; and they spent twenty +years, and no small amount of cash, to make her a woman of superior mind +and distinguished literary attainments. + +I saw the result; for I saw Fanny at twenty, the most unlovely, useless, +and unhappy being I ever met with. The very docility of a mind, not +strong enough to choose its own part, and resist the influence of +circumstances, hastened forward the catastrophe. She had learned to +think herself what she could not be, and to despise what in reality she +was; she could not otherwise than do so, for she had been imbued with it +from her cradle. + +She was accustomed from her infancy to intellectual society; kept up to +listen, when she should have been in bed; she counted the spots on the +carpet, heard nothing that was said, and prided herself on being one of +such company. A little later, she was encouraged to talk to every body, +and give her opinion upon every thing, in order to improve and exercise +her mind. Her mind remained unexercised, because she talked without +thinking; but she learned to chatter, to repeat other people's opinions, +and fancy her own were of immense importance. + +She was unlovely, because she sought only to please by means she had +not, and to please those who were quite beyond her reach; others she had +been accustomed to neglect as unfit for her companionship. She was +useless, because what she might have done well, she was unaccustomed to +do at all, and what she attempted, she was incapable of. And she was +unhappy, because all her natural tastes had been thwarted, and her +natural feelings suppressed; and of her acquired habits and +high-sounding pursuits she had no capacity for enjoyment. Her love of +classic and scientific lore, her delight in libraries, and museums, and +choice intellects, and literary circles, was a fiction; they gratified +nothing but her vanity. Her small, narrow, weak, and dependent mind, was +a reality, and placed her within reach of mortification and +disappointment, from the merest and meanest trifles. + +Jemima--my little friend Jemima--I lived to see her a woman too. From +her infancy she had never evinced the tastes and feelings of a child. +Intense reflection, keen and impatient sensibility and an unlimited +desire to know, marked her from the earliest years as a very +extraordinary child; dislike to the plays and exercises of childhood +made her unpleasing to her companions, and, to superficial observers, +melancholy; but this was amply contradicted by the eager vivacity of her +intellect and feeling, when called forth by things beyond the usual +compass of her age. Every thing in Jemima gave promise of extraordinary +talent and distinguished character. This her parents saw, and were +determined to counteract. They had made up their minds what a woman +should be, and were determined Jemima should be nothing else. Every +thing calculated to call forth her powers was kept out of her way, and +childish occupations forced on her in their stead. The favorite maxim +was, to occupy her mind with common things; she was made to romp, and to +dance and to play; to read story books, and make dolls' clothes. Her +physical powers were thus occupied; but where was her mind the while? +Feeding itself with fancies, for want of truths; drawing false +conclusions, forming wrong judgments, and brooding over its own +mistakes, for want of a judicious occupation of its activities. + +Another maxim was, to keep Jemima ignorant of her own capacity, lest she +should set up for a genius, and be undomesticated. She was told she had +none, and was left in ignorance of what she was capable, and for what +she was responsible. Made to believe that her fine feelings were +oddities, her expansive thoughts absurdities, and her love of knowledge +unfeminine and ungraceful, she kept them to herself, and became +reserved, timid, and artificial. + +Nobody could prevent Jemima's acquiring knowledge; she saw every thing, +reflected upon every thing, and learned from every thing; but without +guide, and without discretion, she gathered the honey and the gall +together, and knew not which was which. She was sent to school that she +might learn to play, and fetched home that she might learn to be useful. +In the former place she was shunned as an oddity, because she preferred +to learn; and, finding herself disliked without deserving it, +encouraged herself to independence by disliking every body. In the +latter, she sewed her work awry, while she made a couplet to the moon, +and unpicked it while she made another; and being told she did every +thing ill, believed it, and became indolent and careless to do any +thing. Consumed, meanwhile, by the restless workings of her mind, and +tasked to exercise for which its delicate frame-work was unfit, her +person became faded, worn, and feeble. + +To be brief, her parents succeeded in baffling nature's promise, but +failed of the fulfillment of their own. At twenty, Jemima was a puzzle +to every body, and a weariness to herself. Conscious of her powers, but +not knowing how to spend them, she gave in to every imaginable caprice. +Having made the discovery of her superiority, she despised the opinions +of others, while her own were too ill-formed to be her guide. Proud of +possessing talent, and yet ashamed to show it; unaccustomed to explain +herself; certain of being misunderstood, and least of all understanding +herself; ignorant, in the midst of knowledge, and incapable with +unlimited capacity; tasteless for every thing she did, and ignorant how +to do what she had a taste for, her mind was a luxuriant wilderness, +inaccessible to others, and utterly unproductive to its possessor. +Unpleasing and unfitted in the sphere she was in, and yet unfitted by +habit and timidity for any other, weariness and disgust were her daily +portion; her fine sensibilities, her deep feelings, her expansive +thoughts, remained; but only to be wounded, to irritate, to mislead her. + +Where is the moral of my tale, and what the use of telling it? I have +told it because I see that God has his purposes in every thing that he +has done; and man has his own, and disregards them. And every day I hear +it disputed, with acrimony and much unkindness, what faculties and +characters it is better to have or not to have, without any +consideration of what God has given or withheld; and standards are set +up, by which all must be measured, though, alas! they cannot take from +or add one cubit to their statures. "There is one glory of the sun, and +another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star +differeth from another star in glory." Why do we not censure the sun for +outshining the stars, and the pale moon for having no light but what she +borrows? + +Instead of settling for others what they ought to be, and choosing for +ourselves what we will be, would it not be better to examine the +condition in which we are actually placed, and the faculties actually +committed to us? and consider what was the purpose of Heaven in the +former, and what the demand of Heaven in the occupation of the latter? +If we have much, we are not at liberty to put it aside, and say we +should be better without it; if we have little, we are not at liberty to +be dissatisfied, and aspiring after more. And surely we are not at +liberty to say that another has too much, or too little, of what God has +given! We may have our preferences, but we must not mistake them for +standards of right. + +Every character has beauties peculiar to itself, and dangers to which it +is peculiarly exposed; and there are duties, pertaining to each, apart +from the circumstances in which they may be placed. Nothing, therefore, +can be more contrary to the manifest order and disposition of +Providence, than to endeavor to be, or do, whatever we admire in +another, or to force ourselves to be and do whatever we admire in +ourselves. Which character, of the endless variety that surrounds us, is +the most happy, the most useful, and most deserving to be beloved, it +were impossible, I believe, to decide; and, if we could, we have gained +little by the decision; for we could neither give it to our children, +nor to ourselves. But of this we may be certain: that individual, of +whatever intellectual character, is the happiest, the most useful, and +the most beloved of God, if not of men, who has best subserved the +purposes of Heaven in her creation and endowment; who has most carefully +turned to good the faculties she has; most cautiously guarded against +the evils to which her propensities incline; most justly estimated, and +conscientiously fulfilled, the duties appropriate to her circumstance +and character. + + + + +INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON WOMAN. + + +The abject condition of the female sex, in all, out of Christian +countries, is universally known and admitted. In all savage and pagan +tribes, the severest burdens of physical toil are laid upon their +shoulders; they are chiefly valued for the same reason that men value +their most useful animals, or as objects of their sensual and selfish +desires. Even in the learned and dignified forms of Eastern paganism, +"the wife," says one who has spent seventeen years among them, "is the +slave, rather than the companion of her husband. She is not allowed to +walk with him, she must walk _behind_ him; not to eat with him, she must +eat _after_ him, and eat of what he leaves. She must not sleep until he +is asleep, nor remain asleep after he is awake. If she is sitting, and +he comes in, she should rise up. She should, say their sacred books, +have no other god on earth than her husband. Him she should worship +while he lives, and, when he dies, she should be burnt with him. As the +widow, in case she is not burnt, is not allowed to marry again, is often +considered little better than an outcast, and not unfrequently sinks +into gross vice, her life can scarcely be considered a blessing." + +The same author remarks, that "there is little social intercourse +between the sexes; little or no acquaintance of the parties before +marriage, and consequently little mutual attachment; and as there is an +absolute vacuity and darkness in the minds of the females, who are not +allowed even to learn to read, there is no solid foundation laid for +domestic happiness." + +If we pass into the dominions of the crescent, we find the condition of +females, in some respects, rather worse, it would seem, than better. +For, in pagan India, debased and abused as woman is, she is still +allowed some interest in religion, and some common expectations with the +other sex, concerning the future state. But in Mohammedan countries, +even this is nearly or quite denied her. "It is a popular tradition +among the Mohammedans, which obtains to this day, that woman shall not +enter Paradise;" and it requires some effort of the imagination to +conceive how debased and wretched must be the condition of the female +sex, to originate and sustain such a horrible and blasphemous tradition. + +Even in the refined and shining ages of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, where +the cultivation of letters, the graces of finished style, the charms of +poetry and eloquence, the elegances of architecture, sculpture, +painting, and embroidery, the glory of conquest, and the pride of +national distinction, were unsurpassed by any people before or +since--even then and there, what was the woman but the abject slave of +man? the object of his ambition, or his avarice, or his lust, or his +power? the alternate victim of his pleasures, his disgust, or his +cruelty? the creature of his caprice? and, what is worse, the menial +slave of her own mental darkness, moral debasement, and vicious +indulgences? If history is not false, the answer is decisive. This, and +only this, was she! + +But how entirely has our religion reversed all this, and rendered her +life a blessing to herself and to society. And as Christianity has done +so much for woman, she ought in return to do much for Christianity. +Every thing that can render life desirable, she owes to Christ. Think +for one moment of the hole of the pit from which Christ has taken you! +Think of what would be your present condition, had it not been for the +Christian religion! You might have been with the debased and wretched +victims of pagan oppression, cruelty, and lust; burning alive upon the +funeral pile; or sacrificed by hands of violence or pollution; or cast +out, and neglected, to pine in solitary and hopeless grief. Or, with the +female followers of the false prophet, or, in more refined but +unchristian nations, you might have been little else than the slave or +the convenience of man, and left to doubt whether any inheritance awaits +you beyond the grave. + +From these depths of debasement and wretchedness, Christianity has taken +you, and placed you on high, to move, and shine, and rejoice, in the +sphere for which the Creator designed you. Not only has it made your +condition as good as that of man, but, in a moral view, in some respects +superior to it. How much, then, do you owe to Christ! To turn away from +him with indifference or neglect, what ingratitude is this! How +preposterous, how base, how unlovely, is female impiety! There was much +sense in a remark made by an intelligent gentleman, who, although not +pious himself, said: "I cannot look with any complacency upon a woman +who does not manifest gratitude and love to Jesus Christ. Above all +things, I hate to see so unnatural an object as an irreligious woman." + +Such being the constitution and circumstances of woman, it is the +manifest intention of God that she should be pre-eminent in moral +excellence; and, through the influence of this, take a glorious lead in +the renovation of the world. This she has to some extent ever done. Let +all females of Christian lands consider well their high calling, their +solemn responsibility, and their glorious privilege. While many of their +sex have proved recreant to their trust, and wasted life in vanity and +in vice, others--an illustrious constellation, the holy and the good of +ancient time, the mothers and the sisters in Israel, "the chief women, +not a few," of apostolic times, the bright throng, that have since +continued to come out from the world, and tread in the steps of Jesus, +and lead on their fellow-beings to the kingdom of purity and joy--have +proved to us that, as woman was first to fall, so she is first to rise. + +Yes; though it is not hers to amass wealth; to aspire to secular office +and power; to shine in camps and armies; to hurl the thunders of our +navies, and gather laurels from the ocean, or to receive the vain +incense offered to public and popular eloquence: yet, hers it is, to be +robed with the beauty of Christ; to shine in the honors of goodness; to +shed over the world the sweet and holy influences of peace, virtue, and +religion; to be adorned with those essential and imperishable beauties, +those unearthly stars and diadems, whose lustre will survive, with +ever-increasing brightness, when all earthly glory will fade and be +forgotten. Come, then; come to your high duty, your glorious +privilege--come, and be blessed for ever! + + + + +IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO WOMAN. + + +There is nothing so adapted to the wants of woman as religion. She has +many trials, and she therefore peculiarly needs support; religion is her +asylum, not only in heavy afflictions, but in petty disquietudes. These, +as they are more frequent, are perhaps almost as harassing; at least, +they equally need a sedative influence, and religion is the anodyne. For +it is religion which, by placing before her a better and more enduring +happiness than this world can offer, reconciles her to temporary +privations; and, by acquainting her with the love of God, leads her to +rest securely upon his providence in present disappointment. It inspires +her with that true content, which not only endures distress, but is +cheerful under it. + +Resignation is not, as we are too apt to portray her, beauty bowered in +willows, and bending over a sepulchral urn; neither is she a tragic +queen, pathetic only in her weeds. She is an active, as well as passive +virtue; an habitual, not an occasional sentiment. She should be as +familiar to woman as her daily cross; for acquiescence in the detail of +Providence is as much a duty, as submission to its result; and +equanimity amid domestic irritations equally implies religious +principle, as fortitude under severer trials. It was the remark of one, +who certainly was not disposed to care for trifles, that "it required as +much grace to bear the breaking of a china cup, as any of the graver +distresses of life." + +Minor cares are indeed the province of woman; minor annoyances her +burden. Dullness, bad temper, mal-adroitness, are to her the cause of a +thousand petty rubs, which too often spoil the euphony of a silver +voice, and discompose the symmetry of fair features. But the confidence +which reposes on divine affection, and the charity which covers human +frailty, are the only specifics for impatience. + +And, if religion is such a blessing in the ordinary trials of life, what +a soothing balm it is in graver sorrows! From these, woman is by no +means exempt; on the contrary, as her susceptibility is great, +afflictions press on her with peculiar heaviness. There is sometimes a +stillness in her grief which argues only its intensity, and it is this +rankling wound which piety alone can heal. Nothing, perhaps, is more +affecting than woman's chastened sorrow. Her ties may be severed, her +fond hopes withered, her young affections blighted, yet peace may be in +her breast, and heaven in her eye. If the business and turmoil of life +brush away the tears of manly sorrows, and scarcely leave time even for +the indulgence of sympathy, woman gathers strength in her solitary +chamber, to encounter and subdue her grief. There she learns to look +her sorrow in the face; there she becomes familiar with its features; +there she communes with it, as with a celestial messenger; till at +length she can almost welcome its presence, and hail it as the harbinger +of a brighter world. + +Religion is her only elevating principle. It identifies itself with the +movements of her heart and with the actions of her life, spiritualizing +the one and ennobling the other. Duties, however subordinate, are to the +religious woman never degrading; their principle is their apology. She +does not live amidst the clouds, or abandon herself to mystic +excitement; she is raised above the sordidness, but not above the +concerns, of earth; above its disquietudes, but not above its cares. + +Religion is just what woman needs. Without it, she is ever restless and +unhappy; ever wishing to be relieved from duty or from time. She is +either ambitious of display, or greedy of pleasure, or sinks into a +listless apathy, useless to others and unworthy of herself. But when the +light from heaven shines upon her path, it invests every object with a +reflected radiance. Duties, occupations, nay, even trials, are seen +through a bright medium; and the sunshine which gilds her course on +earth, is but the dawning of a far clearer day. + + + * * * * * * + + +Transcriber's Note: + + The following words were inconsistently hyphenated: + + house-wife / housewife + time-piece / timepiece + + Other errors: + + Original + Page + 11 Missing period after 'other' + ....each other "_Familiarity_," says.... + 72 Missing period after 'it' + ....could not help it She sang to Nurse.... + 124 extra 'n' in the name Fanny + ....cannot be said that Fannny's health.... + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES' VASE*** + + +******* This file should be named 16802-8.txt or 16802-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/8/0/16802 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Ladies' Vase</p> +<p> Polite Manual for Young Ladies</p> +<p>Author: An American Lady</p> +<p>Release Date: October 4, 2005 [eBook #16802]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES' VASE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Julia Miller,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (https://www.pgdp.net/)</h3> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #ccccff;"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Transcriber's Note: + </td> + <td> + Printer's errors from the original book, such as + inconsistent hyphenation and missing punctuation, have been retained in + this version of the text. A <a href="#T_Note">list</a> of these errors is located at + the end of the text. + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 243px;"> +<a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<a href="images/img01-full.jpg"><img src="images/img01.jpg" width="243" height="400" alt="Frontispiece" title="Frontispiece" /></a> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[i]<a name="Page_i" id="Page_i"></a></span></p> + + +<h3>THE</h3> + +<h1>LADIES' VASE;</h1> + +<h3>OR</h3> + +<h2>POLITE MANUAL</h2> + +<h3>FOR</h3> + +<h2>YOUNG LADIES.</h2> + +<hr class="tptop" style="width: 200px;" /> + +<h2 style="font-weight: normal;">Original and Selected.</h2> + +<hr class="tpbot" style="width: 200px;" /> + +<h4>BY AN</h4> + +<p class="center">AMERICAN LADY.</p> + +<hr class="tptop" style="width: 100px;"/> + +<p style="font-size: 80%; text-align: center;">EIGHTH EDITION.</p> + +<hr class="tpbot" style="width: 100px;"/> + +<p> </p> +<p style="font-size: large; text-align: center;">HARTFORD:<br /> +H.S. PARSONS AND CO.<br /> +1849. +</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[ii]<a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii"></a></span></p> +<p> </p> + +<hr class="tptop" style="width: 10em;" /> + +<p class="center">Stereotyped by<br /> +RICHARD H. HOBBS.<br /> +Hartford, Conn.</p> + +<hr class="tpbot" style="width: 10em;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[iii]<a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.</h2> + + +<p>So many volumes have already appeared before the public, similar in +character to this little work, that it is with feelings of diffidence we +bring our humble offering, especially when we consider the rich merit +possessed by many of its predecessors. But our apology must be found in +the fact that these publications are, from their size, and consequent +expense, inaccessible to many of the class whose improvement they are so +well adapted to promote. Considering the formation of female character +and manners a matter of inestimable importance, especially at the +present age, swayed as it is by moral <span class='pagenum'>[iv]<a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv"></a></span>rather than by physical force, we +have carefully availed ourselves of the best advice of some of our most +judicious writers on female education; and, by presenting our work in a +cheaper form than any of this class which is now before the public, hope +to render it attainable to all those for whom it is especially designed.</p> + +<p><i>April 16, 1847.</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[v]<a name="Page_v" id="Page_v"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + + + +<table style="width: 60%" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td style="width: 10em;"><span class="smcap">Politeness</span>,</td> + <td style="width: 1em;"></td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#POLITENESS">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">True and False Politeness</span>,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#TRUE_AND_FALSE_POLITENESS">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Importance of Good Manners</span>,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#IMPORTANCE_OF_GOOD_MANNERS">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Self-Possession</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#SELF-POSSESSION">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Good Company</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#GOOD_COMPANY">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Friendship</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#FRIENDSHIP">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Kindred Hearts</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#KINDRED_HEARTS">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Conversation</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#CONVERSATION">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Exaggeration</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#EXAGGERATION">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Egotism</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#EGOTISM">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Gentleness</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#GENTLENESS">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Sisterly Virtues</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#SISTERLY_VIRTUES">46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Home</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#HOME">49</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Fireside Influence</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#FIRESIDE_INFLUENCE">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Personal Appearance</span>,</td> + <td><span class="triple">{</span></td> + <td><span class="smcap">The Teeth</span>,<br /> + <span class="smcap">The Hair</span>,<br /> + <span class="smcap">The Hands</span>,</td> + <td class="right"> <a href="#PERSONAL_APPEARANCE">54</a><br /> + <a href="#HAIR">57</a><br /> + <a href="#HANDS">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Dress</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#DRESS">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"><span class="pagenum">[vi]<a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi"></a></span><span class="smcap">Compression of the Lungs</span>,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#COMPRESSION_OF_THE_LUNGS">64</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Letter-Writing</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#LETTER-WRITING">68</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Music</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#MUSIC">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Flowers</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#FLOWERS">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Time</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#TIME">76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Novel-Reading</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#NOVEL-READING">85</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Female Romance</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#FEMALE_ROMANCE">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Behavior to Gentlemen</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#BEHAVIOR_TO_GENTLEMEN">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><span class="smcap">Marriage</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#MARRIAGE">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Marriage Hymn</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#MARRIAGE_HYMN">104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Female Influence</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#FEMALE_INFLUENCE">105</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">A Difficult Question</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#A_DIFFICULT_QUESTION">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Easily Decided</span>,</td> + <td></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#EASILY_DECIDED">121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Influence of Christianity on Woman</span>,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#INFLUENCE_OF_CHRISTIANITY_ON_WOMAN">132</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td colspan="3"><span class="smcap">Importance of Religion to Woman</span>,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#IMPORTANCE_OF_RELIGION_TO_WOMAN">137</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[7]<a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 style="margin-top: 4em;"><a name="POLITENESS" id="POLITENESS"></a>LADIES' VASE.</h2> + +<h2 style="margin-top: 2em; font-weight: normal;">POLITENESS.</h2> + + +<p>Politeness, like every thing else in one's character and conduct, should +be based on Christian principle. "Honor all men," says the apostle. This +is the spring of good manners; it strikes at the very root of +selfishness: it is the principle by which we render to all ranks and +ages their due. A respect for your fellow-beings—a reverence for them +as God's creatures and our brethren—will inspire that delicate regard +for their rights and feelings, of which good manners is the sign.</p> + +<p>If you have truth—not the truth of policy, but religious truth—your +manners will be sincere. They will have earnestness, simplicity, and +frankness—the best qualities of manners. They will be free from +assumption, pretense, affectation, flattery, and obsequiousness, which +are all incompatible with sincerity. If you have sincerity, you will +choose to appear no other, nor better, than you are—to dwell in a true +light.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[8]<a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></span></p> + +<p>We have often insisted, that the Bible contains the only rules necessary +in the study of politeness. Or, in other words, that those who are the +real disciples of Christ, cannot fail to be truly polite. Thus, let the +young woman who would possess genuine politeness, take her lessons, not +in the school of a hollow, heartless world, but in the school of Jesus +Christ. I know this counsel may be despised by the gay and fashionable; +but it will be much easier to despise it, than to prove it to be +incorrect.</p> + +<p>"Always think of the good of the whole, rather than of your own +individual convenience," says Mrs. Farrar, in her <i>Young Ladies' +Friend</i>. A most excellent rule; and one to which we solicit your earnest +attention. She who is thoroughly imbued with the Gospel spirit, will not +fail to do so. It was what our Savior did continually; and I have no +doubt that his was the purest specimen of good manners, or genuine +politeness, the world has ever witnessed; the politeness of Abraham +himself not excepted.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 110px;"> +<img src="images/img02.jpg" width="110" height="111" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[9]<a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="TRUE_AND_FALSE_POLITENESS" id="TRUE_AND_FALSE_POLITENESS"></a>TRUE AND FALSE POLITENESS.</h2> + + +<p>Every thing really valuable is sure to be counterfeited. This applies +not only to money, medicine, religion, and virtue, but even to +politeness. We see in society the truly polite and the falsely polite; +and, although all cannot explain, all can feel the difference. While we +respect the one, we despise the other. Men hate to be cheated. An +attempt to deceive us, is an insult to our understandings and an affront +to our morals. The pretender to politeness is a cheat. He tries to palm +off the base for the genuine; and, although he may deceive the vulgar, +he cannot overreach the cultivated. True politeness springs from right +feelings; it is a good heart, manifesting itself in an agreeable life; +it is a just regard for the rights and happiness of others in small +things; it is the expression of true and generous sentiments in a +graceful form of words; it regards neatness and propriety in dress, as +something due to society, and avoids tawdriness in apparel, as offensive +to good taste; it avoids selfishness in conduct and roughness in +manners: hence, a polite person is called a <i>gentle</i> man. True +politeness is the smoothness of a refined mind and the tact of a kind +heart.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[10]<a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a></span></p> + +<p>Politeness is a word derived from the Greek word <i>polis</i>, which means a +city—the inhabitants of which are supposed, by constant intercourse +with each other, to be more refined in manners than the inhabitants of +the country. From <i>polis</i>, comes our English word <i>polish</i>, which +signifies an effect produced by rubbing down roughnesses until the +surface is smoothed and brightened: hence, we speak of polished minds +and polished manners. Persons in good society rub against each other +until their sharp points are worn down, and their intercourse becomes +easy. The word <i>urbanity</i> comes from the Latin word <i>urbs</i>; that, also, +means a city, and it signifies politeness, gentleness, polish, for a +similar reason.</p> + +<p>In mingling with our fellow-men, there is a constant necessity for +little offices of mutual good will. An observing and generous-minded +person notices what gives him offense, and what pleases him in the +conduct of others; and he seeks at once to correct or cultivate similar +things in himself. He acts upon the wise, Christian principle of doing +to others as he would have them do to him. Hence, in dress and person, +he is clean and neat; in speech, he is courteous; in behavior, +conciliating; in the pursuit of his own interests, unobtrusive. No truly +polite person appears to notice bodily defects or unavoidable +imperfections in others; and, above all, he never sneers at religion, +either in its doctrines, ordinances, or professors.</p> + +<p>False politeness is but a clumsy imitation of all <span class='pagenum'>[11]<a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a></span>this. It is selfish +in its object, and superficial in its character. It is a slave to +certain forms of speech, certain methods of action, and certain fashions +of dress. It is insincere; praising where it sees no merit, and excusing +sin where it beholds no repentance. It is the offspring of selfishness; +perverting the golden rule by flattering stupidity and winking at vice, +with the hope of being treated in the same way by the community. It is a +bed of flowers, growing over a sepulchre, and drawing its life from the +loathsome putrefaction within.</p> + +<p>Yet, insincere and wrong as are the motives to false politeness, it is, +after all, better than vulgarity. It is the cotton batting, that keeps +the glass vases of society from dashing against each other +<a name="Familiarity" id="Familiarity"></a>"<i>Familiarity</i>," says the proverb, "<i>breeds contempt</i>;" and this is +found true, whenever coarse minds with rude manners come in contact. +Careless of the little decencies of society; selfish in selecting the +best seat in the room, or the best dish at the table; unwashed in +person, and slovenly in dress: what is this but an open proclamation of +utter disregard for others? How soon contempt must follow!</p> + +<p>Let the young polish their manners, not by attending to mere artificial +rules, but by the cultivation of right feelings. Let them mingle with +refined society as often as they can; and, by refined society, I do not +mean those whom you find in the ball-room—in the theater—in the +crowded party, or those—however wealthy, or richly dressed—you feel to +be only artificially <span class='pagenum'>[12]<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a></span>polite; but I mean those who make you feel at ease +in their society, while, at the same time, they elevate your aims and +polish your manners. What a good style is to noble sentiments, +politeness is to virtue.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/img03.jpg" width="150" height="187" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[13]<a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="IMPORTANCE_OF_GOOD_MANNERS" id="IMPORTANCE_OF_GOOD_MANNERS"></a>IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANNERS.</h2> + + +<p>There is something in the very constitution of human nature which +inclines us to form a judgment of character from manners. It is always +taken for granted, unless there is decisive evidence to the contrary, +that the manners are the genuine expression of the feelings. And even +where such evidence exists—that is, where we have every reason to +believe that the external appearance does injustice to the moral +dispositions; or, on the other hand, where the heart is too favorably +represented by the manners—there is still a delusion practiced upon the +mind, by what passes under the eye, which it is not easy to resist. You +may take two individuals of precisely the same degree of intellectual +and moral worth, and let the manners of the one be bland and attractive, +and those of the other distant or awkward, and you will find that the +former will pass through life with far more ease and comfort than the +latter; for, though good manners will never effectually conceal a bad +heart, and are, in no case, any atonement for it, yet, taken in +connection with amiable and virtuous dispositions, they naturally and +necessarily gain upon the respect and goodwill of mankind.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[14]<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a></span></p> + +<p>You will instantly perceive—if the preceding remarks be correct—that +it is not only your interest to cultivate good manners, as you hereby +recommend yourself to the favorable regards of others, but also your +duty, as it increases, in no small degree, your means of usefulness. It +will give you access to many persons, and give you an influence over +those whom you could otherwise never approach; much less, whose feelings +and purposes you could never hope, in any measure, to control.</p> + +<p>"If I should point you to the finest model of female manners which it +has ever been my privilege to observe," says a late writer, in a letter +to his daughter, "and one which will compare with the most perfect +models of this or any other age, I should repeat a venerated name—that +of Mrs. Hannah More. It was my privilege, a few years ago, to make a +visit to the residence of this distinguished female; a visit which I +have ever since regarded as among the happiest incidents of my life. At +that time, she numbered more than fourscore years, but the vigor of her +intellect was scarcely impaired; and, from what she was, I could easily +conceive what she had been when her sun was at its meridian. In her +person, she was rather small, but was a specimen of admirable symmetry. +In her manners, she united the dignity and refinement of the court, with +the most exquisite urbanity and gentleness which the female character, +in its loveliest forms, ever exhibited. She impressed me continually +with a <span class='pagenum'>[15]<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a></span>sense of the high intellectual and moral qualities by which she +was distinguished, but still left me as unconstrained as if I had been +conversing with a beloved child. There was an air of graceful and +unaffected ease; an instinctive regard to the most delicate proprieties +of social intercourse; a readiness to communicate, and yet a desire to +listen; the dignity of conscious merit, united with the humility of the +devoted Christian: in short, there was such an assemblage of +intellectual and moral excellences beaming forth in every expression, +and look, and attitude, that I could scarcely conceive of a more perfect +exhibition of human character. I rejoice that it is the privilege of all +to know Mrs. More through her works; and I can form no better wish for +you than that you may imbibe her spirit, and walk in her footsteps."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img04.jpg" width="112" height="183" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[16]<a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="SELF-POSSESSION" id="SELF-POSSESSION"></a>SELF-POSSESSION.</h2> + + +<p>Self-possession is the first requisite to good manners; and, where it is +wanting, there is generally a reason for it, in some wrong feeling or +appreciation of things. Vanity, a love of display, an overweening desire +to be admired, are great obstacles to self-possession; whereas, a +well-disciplined and well-balanced character will generally lead to +composure and self-command. In a very elegant assemblage, in a large +drawing-room in a Southern city, I saw a young lady walk quietly and +easily across the apartment to speak to a friend, who said to her: "I +wanted very much to get to you, but I had not the courage to cross the +room. How could you do it?—all alone, too, and with so many persons +looking at you!" "I did not think of any body's looking at me," was the +reply; and in that lay the secret of her self-possession. Very modest +people believe themselves to be of too little consequence to be +observed; but conceited ones, think every body must be looking at them. +Inexperienced girls, who are not wanting in modesty, are apt to dread +going into a crowded room, from an idea that every eye will <span class='pagenum'>[17]<a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a></span>be turned +upon them; but after a while they find that nobody cares to look at +them, and that the greater the crowd, the less they are observed.</p> + +<p>Your enjoyment of a party depends far less on what you find there, than +on what you carry with you. The vain, the ambitious, the designing, will +be full of anxiety when they go, and of disappointment when they return. +A short triumph will be followed by a deep mortification, and the +selfishness of their aims defeats itself. If you go to see and to hear, +and to make the best of whatever occurs, with a disposition to admire +all that is beautiful, and to sympathize in the pleasures of others, you +can hardly fail to spend the time pleasantly. The less you think of +yourself and your claims to attention, the better. If you are much +attended to, receive it modestly, and consider it as a happy accident; +if you are little noticed, use your leisure in observing others.</p> + +<p>The popular belle, who is the envy of her own sex and the admiration of +the other, has her secret griefs and trials, and thinks she pays very +dearly for her popularity; while the girl who is least attended to in +crowded assemblies, is apt to think her's the only hard lot, and that +there is unmixed happiness in being a reigning belle. She, alone, whose +steady aim is to grow better and wiser every day of her life, can look +with an equal eye on both extremes. If your views are elevated, and your +feelings are ennobled and purified by communion with gifted spirits, and +with the Father of spirits, you will look calmly on the <span class='pagenum'>[18]<a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></span>gayest scenes +of life; you will attach very little importance to the transient +popularity of a ball-room; your endeavor will be to bring home from +every visit some new idea, some valuable piece of information, or some +useful experience of life.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/img05.jpg" width="150" height="260" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[19]<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="GOOD_COMPANY" id="GOOD_COMPANY"></a>GOOD COMPANY.</h2> + + +<p>"Good company," says Duclos, "resembles a dispersed republic: the +members of it are found in all classes. Independent of rank and station, +it exists only among those who think and feel; among those who possess +correct ideas and honorable sentiments." The higher classes, constantly +occupied with the absorbing interests of wealth and ambition, formerly +introduced into their magnificent saloons a grave and almost diplomatic +stiffness of manners, of which the solemnity banished nature and +freedom. The amusements of the lower classes, which rather resembled a +toil than a recreation, present to the spectator a procedure +irreconcilable to good taste.</p> + +<p>There are, moreover, too many points of resemblance between the manners +and education of the higher and lower classes, to admit of our finding +the elements of good society in either of them. The lower orders are +ignorant, from want of means of instruction; the higher, from indolence +and perpetually increasing incapacity. It is besides not a little +curious that, even in the bygone days of ceremonious manners, the higher +classes, by whom they were practiced, were uniformly taught <span class='pagenum'>[20]<a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a></span>by those +illiterate persons of the lower classes who almost alone practice the +art of dancing-masters.</p> + +<p>It is therefore to the middle class, almost exclusively, that we must +look for good society; to that class which has not its ideas contracted +by laborious occupations, nor its mental powers annihilated by luxury. +In this class, it is truly observed, society is often full of charm: +every one seems, according to the precept of <i>La Bruyère</i>, "anxious, +both by words and manners, to make others pleased with him and with +themselves." There are slight differences of character, opinion, and +interest; but there is no prevailing style, no singular or affected +customs. An unperceived interchange of ideas and kind offices produces a +delightful harmony of thoughts and sentiments; and the wish to please +inspires those affectionate manners, those obliging expressions, and +those unrestrained attentions, which alone render social unions pleasant +and desirable.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 94px;"> +<img src="images/img06.jpg" width="94" height="142" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[21]<a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="FRIENDSHIP" id="FRIENDSHIP"></a>FRIENDSHIP.</h2> + + +<p>This subject was forcibly presented to my mind by a conversation I +recently heard in a party of young ladies, and which I take as a pattern +and semblance of twenty other conversations I have heard in twenty +similar parties. Friendship was (as it very often is) the subject of the +discussion; and, though the words have escaped my memory, I can well +recall the substance of the remarks. One lady boldly asserted that there +was no such thing as friendship in the world, where all was insincerity +and selfishness. I looked, but saw not in her youthful eye and +unfurrowed cheeks any traces of the sorrow and ill-usage that I thought +should alone have wrung from gentle lips so harsh a sentence, and I +wondered where in twenty brief years she could have learned so hard a +lesson. Have known it, she could not! therefore I concluded she had +taken it upon trust from the poets, who are fain to tell all the ill +they can of human nature, because it makes better poetry than good.</p> + +<p>The remark was taken up, as might have been expected, by a young +champion, who thought, or said without thinking, that friendship was—I +really cannot undertake to say what, but all the <span class='pagenum'>[22]<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a></span>things that young +ladies usually put into their themes at school: something interminable, +illimitable, and immutable. From this the discussion grew; and how it +was, and what it was, went on to be discussed. I cannot pursue the +thread of the discourse; but the amount of it was this:—One thought +friendship was the summer portion only of the blessed; a flower for the +brow of the prosperous, that the child of misfortune must never gather. +Another thought that all interest being destructive to its very essence, +it could not be trusted, unless there was an utter destitution of every +thing that might recommend us to favor, or requite affection. This lady +must have been brought to the depth of wretchedness ere she ever could +be sure she had a friend. Some, I found, thought it was made up of a +great deal of sensibility, vulgarly called jealousy; that was, to take +umbrage at every seeming slight, to the indescribable torment of either +party. Some betrayed, if they did not exactly say it, that they thought +friendship such an absolute unity, that it would be a less crime to +worship two gods than to love two friends! Therefore, to bring it to its +perfection, it was necessary that all beside should be despised and +disregarded.</p> + +<p>Others, very young, and of course soon to grow wiser, thought it +consisted in the exact disclosure of your own concerns and those of +every body else with which you might chance to become acquainted; +others, that it required such exact conformity in opinion, thought, and +feeling, as <span class='pagenum'>[23]<a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a></span>should make it impossible to differ; and others, that it +implied such generous interference, even with the feelings as well as +affairs of its object, that it should spend itself in disinterested +reproaches and unasked advice. But, however differing else, all were +sure that friendship but usurped the name, unless it were purely +disinterested, endlessly durable, and beyond the reach of time and +circumstances to change it; and all were going forth in the full +certainty of finding friends, each one after the pattern of her own +imagination, the first speaker only excepted, who was fully determined +never to find any, or never to trust them, if she did.</p> + +<p>I marked, with pained attention, the warm glow of expectation so soon to +be blighted; and, reflected deeply on the many heart-aches with which +they must unlearn their errors. I saw that each one was likely to pass +over and reject the richest blessing of earth, even in the very pursuing +of it, from having merely sketched, in imagination, an unresembling +portrait of the object of pursuit. "When friendship meets them," I said, +"they will not know her. Can no one draw for them a better likeness?"</p> + +<p>It is the language of books, and the language of society, that friends +are inconstant, and friendship but little to be depended on; and the +belief, where it is really received, goes far to make a truth of that +which else were false, by creating what it suspects. Few of us but have +lived already long enough to know the bitterness of <span class='pagenum'>[24]<a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a></span>being disappointed +in our affections, and deceived in our calculations by those with whom, +in the various relationships of life, we are brought in contact. Perhaps +the aggregate of pain from this cause is greater than from any other +cause whatever. And yet, it is much to be doubted whether nearly the +whole of this suffering does not arise from our own unreasonable and +mistaken expectations. There are none so unfortunate but they meet with +some kindness in the world; and none, I believe, so fortunate but that +they meet with much less than they might do, were it not their own +fault.</p> + +<p>In the first place, we are mistaken in our expectations that friendship +should be disinterested. It neither is, nor can be. It may be so in +action, but never in the sentiment; there is always an equivalent to be +returned. And if we examine the movements of our own hearts, we must be +sure this is the case; and yet, we are so unreasonable as to expect our +friends should be purely disinterested; and, after having secured their +affections, we neglect to pay the price, and expect they should be +continued to us for nothing. We grow careless of pleasing them; +inconsiderate of their feelings, and heedless of the government of our +own temper towards them; and then we complain of inconstancy, if they +like us not so well as when dressed out in our best for the reception of +their favor. Yet it is, in fact, we that are changed, not they.</p> + +<p>Another fruitful source of disappointment in <span class='pagenum'>[25]<a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a></span>our attachments is, that +while we are much more quick in detecting the faults of others than our +own, we absurdly require that every one should be faultless but +ourselves. We do not say that we expect this in our friends; but we do +expect it, and our conduct proves that we expect it. We begin also with +believing it. The obscurities of distance; the vail that the proprieties +of society casts over nature's deformities; the dazzling glitter of +exterior qualities baffle, for a time, our most penetrating glances, and +the imperfect vision seems all that we should have it. Our inexperienced +hearts, and some indeed that should be better taught, fondly believe it +to be all it seems, and begin their attachment in full hope to find it +so. What wonder then that the bitterest disappointment should ensue, +when, on more close acquaintance, we find them full of imperfections, +perhaps of most glaring faults; and we begin to express disgust, +sometimes even resentment, that they are not what we took them for.</p> + +<p>But was this their fault, or ours? Did they not present themselves to us +in the garb of mortal flesh?—and do we not know that mortals are +imperfect?—that, however the outside be fair, the interior is corrupt, +and sometimes vile? He who knows all, alone knows how corrupt it is! the +heart itself, enlightened by His grace, is more deeply in the secret +than any without can be; but if the thing we love be mortal, something +of it we must perceive; and more and more of it we must perceive as we +look closer. If this is to disap<span class='pagenum'>[26]<a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a></span>point and revolt us, and draw harsh +reproaches and bitter recriminations from our lips, there is but One on +whom we can fix our hearts with safety; and He is one, alas! we show so +little disposition to love, as proves that, with all our complainings +and bewailings of each others' faultiness, our friends are as good as +will, at present, suit us.</p> + +<p>But are we, therefore, to say there is no such thing as friendship, or +that it is not worth seeking? morosely repel it, or suspiciously +distrust it? If we do, we shall pay our folly's price in the forfeiture +of that, without which, however we may pretend, we never are or can be +happy; preferring to go without the very greatest of all earthly good, +because it is not what, perhaps, it may be in heaven. Rather than this, +it would be wise so to moderate our expectation, and adapt our conduct, +as to gain of it a greater measure, or, as far as may be possible, to +gather of its flowers without exposing ourselves to be wounded by the +thorns it bears. This is only to be done by setting out in life with +juster feelings and fairer expectations.</p> + +<p>It is not true, that friends are few and kindness rare. No one ever +needed friends, and deserved them, and found them not; but we do not +know them when we see them, or deal with them justly when we have them. +We must allow others to be as variable, and imperfect, and faulty, as +ourselves. We do not wish our readers to love their friends less, but to +love them as what they are, rather than as what they wish them to be; +and instead of the jealous pertinacity that is wounded by <span class='pagenum'>[27]<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a></span>every +appearance of change, and disgusted by every detection of a fault, and +ready to distrust and cast away the kindest friends on every trifling +difference of behavior and feeling, to cultivate a moderation in their +demands; a patient allowance for the effect of time and circumstance; an +indulgence towards peculiarities of temper and character; and, above +all, such a close examination of what passes in their own hearts, as +will teach them better to understand and excuse what they detect in the +hearts of others; ever remembering that all things on earth are earthly; +and therefore changeful, perishable, and uncertain.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img07.jpg" width="112" height="274" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[28]<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="KINDRED_HEARTS" id="KINDRED_HEARTS"></a>KINDRED HEARTS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! ask not, hope thou not too much<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sympathy below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few are the hearts whence one same touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bids the same fountain flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Few, and by still conflicting powers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forbidden here to meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such ties would make this life of ours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too fair for aught so fleet.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It may be that thy brother's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sees not as thine, which turns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such deep reverence, to the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the rich sunset burns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It may be that the breath of spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Born amidst violets lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rapture o'er thy soul can bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dream to his unknown.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tune that speaks of other times—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sorrowful delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The melody of distant chimes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sound of waves by night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind that with so many a tone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some cord within can thrill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These may have language all thine own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To <i>him</i> a mystery still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[29]<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet scorn thou not for this the true<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And steadfast love of years;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kindly, that from childhood grew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The faithful to thy tears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If there be one that o'er the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath in thy grief borne part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watched through sickness by thy bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Call <i>his</i> a kindred heart.<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But for those bonds, all perfect made,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein bright spirits blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sister flowers of one sweet shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the same breeze that bend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that full bliss of thought allied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never to mortals given,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! lay thy lovely dreams aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or lift them unto heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img08.jpg" width="112" height="289" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[30]<a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="CONVERSATION" id="CONVERSATION"></a>CONVERSATION.</h2> + + +<p>Good conversation is one of the highest attainments of civilized +society. It is the readiest way in which gifted minds exert their +influence, and, as such, is worthy of all consideration and cultivation. +I remember hearing an English traveler say, many years ago, on being +asked how the conversational powers of the Americans compared with those +of the English—"Your fluency rather exceeds that of the old world, but +conversation here is not cultivated as an art." The idea of its being so +considered any where was new to the company; and much discussion +followed the departure of the stranger, as to the desirableness of +making conversation an art. Some thought the more natural and +spontaneous it was, the better; some confounded art with artifice, and +hoped their countrymen would never leave their own plain, honest way of +talking, to become adepts in hypocrisy and affectation. At last one, a +little wiser than the rest, explained the difference between art and +artifice; asked the cavilers if they had never heard of the art of +writing, or the art of thinking? and said he presumed the art of +conversing was of the same nature. And so it is. By <span class='pagenum'>[31]<a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a></span>this art, persons +are taught to arrange their ideas methodically, and to express them with +clearness and force; thus saving much precious time, and avoiding those +tedious narrations which interest no one but the speaker. It enforces +the necessity of observing the effect of what is said, and leads a +talker to stop when she finds that she has ceased to fix the attention +of her audience.</p> + +<p>Some persons seem to forget that mere talking is not conversing; that it +requires two to make a conversation, and that each must be in turn a +listener; but no one can be an agreeable companion who is not as willing +to listen as to talk. Selfishness shows itself in this, as in a thousand +other ways. One who is always full of herself, and who thinks nothing so +important as what she thinks, and says, and does, will be apt to engross +more than her share of the talk, even when in the company of those she +loves.</p> + +<p>There are situations, however, wherein it is a kindness to be the chief +talker: as when a young lady is the eldest of the party, and has seen +something, or been in some place, the description of which is desired by +all around her. If your mind is alive to the wishes and claims of +others, you will easily perceive when it is a virtue to talk and when to +be silent. It is undue pre-occupation with self which blinds people, and +prevents their seeing what the occasion requires.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the most kind and sympathizing person will not do justice to +her nature, but will appear to be cold and inattentive, because she +<span class='pagenum'>[32]<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></span>does not know that it is necessary to give some sign that she is +attending to what is addressed to her. She averts her eye from the +speaker, and listens in such profound silence, and with a countenance so +immovable, that no one could suppose her to be at all interested by what +she is hearing. This is very discouraging to the speaker and very +impolite. Good manners require that you should look at the person who +speaks to you, and that you should put in a word, or a look, from time +to time, that will indicate your interest in the narrative. A few +interjections, happily thrown in by the hearer, are a great comfort and +stimulus to the speaker; and one who has always been accustomed to this +evidence of sympathy, or comprehension, in their friends, feels, when +listened to without it, as if she were talking to a dead wall.</p> + +<p>For the encouragement of those who feel themselves deficient in +conversational powers, we will subjoin a notice of the lately-deceased +wife of a clergyman in this state:</p> + +<p>"I saw and felt, when with her, as few others have ever made me feel, +the power and uses of conversation. With her it was always promotive of +intellectual and moral life. And here let me inform you, for the +encouragement of those who may be thinking they would gladly do as she +did in society, if they were able, that when I first knew Mrs. B., her +powers of conversation were very small. She was embarrassed whenever she +attempted to convey her thoughts to others. She labored for expression +so much, that it was some<span class='pagenum'>[33]<a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a></span>times painful to hear her. Still, her social, +affectionate nature longed for communion with other minds and hearts, on +all subjects of deepest import. Her persevering efforts at length +prevailed, and her ardent love of truth gave her utterance: yes, an +utterance that often delighted, and sometimes surprised, those who heard +her; a readiness and fluency that are seldom equalled. Learn, then, from +her, my friends, to <i>exercise</i> your faculties, whatever they may be. In +this way only can you improve, or even retain them. If you have but one +talent of any sort, it may not, with impunity to itself—it may not, +without sin to you—be wrapped in a napkin. And sigh not for higher +powers or opportunities, until you have fully and faithfully exercised +and improved such as you have. Nor can you know what you possess until +you have called them into action."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/img09.jpg" width="75" height="182" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[34]<a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="EXAGGERATION" id="EXAGGERATION"></a>EXAGGERATION.</h2> + + +<p>It is a great mistake to suppose that exaggeration makes a person more +agreeable, or that it adds to the importance of her statements. The +value of a person's words is determined by her habitual use of them. "I +like it much," "It is well done," will mean as much in some mouths, as +"I am infinitely delighted with it," "'Tis the most exquisite thing I +ever saw," will in others. Such large abatements are necessarily made +for the statements of these romancers, that they really gain nothing in +the end, but find it difficult sometimes to gain credence for so much as +is really true; whereas, a person who is habitually sober and +discriminating in his use of language, will not only inspire confidence, +but be able to produce a fine effect by the occasional use of a +superlative.</p> + +<p>Fidelity and exactness are indispensable in a narrative, and the habit +of exaggerating destroys the power of accurate observation and +recollection which would render the story truly interesting. If, instead +of trying to embellish her account with the fruits of her imagination, a +young lady possessed the power of seizing upon the points best worth +describing, and could give an exact <span class='pagenum'>[35]<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a></span>account of them, she would be far +more entertaining than any exaggeration could make her; for there is no +romance like that of real life, and no imaginings of an inexperienced +girl can equal in piquancy the scenes and characters that are every day +presented to our view. Extravagant expressions are sometimes resorted to +in order to atone for deficiencies of memory and observation; but they +will never hide such defects; and an habitual use of them lowers the +tone of the mind, and leads to other deviations from the simplicity of +truth and nature.</p> + +<p>Another way of falsifying a narrative, is by taking for granted what you +do not know, and speaking of it as if you did. This jumping at +conclusions is a fruitful source of false reports, and does great +mischief in the world. Let no one imagine that she is walking +conscientiously, who is not in the habit of discriminating nicely +between what she knows to be fact and what she only supposes to be such.</p> + +<p>The frequent use of some favorite word, or phrase, is a common defect in +conversation, and can only be guarded against by asking your friends to +point it out to you, whenever they observe such a habit; for your own +ear, having become accustomed to it, may not detect it. Some persons +apply the epithets <i>glorious</i> or <i>splendid</i> to all sorts of objects +indiscriminately, from a gorgeous sunset to a good dinner.</p> + +<p>A young lady once tried to describe a pic-nic party to me in the +following terms: "There were <span class='pagenum'>[36]<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a></span>ten of us—four on horseback and the rest +in carriages. We set off at a <i>glorious</i> rate, and had a <i>splendid</i> time +in getting there; I rode the most <i>elegant</i>, perfect creature you ever +beheld, and capered along <i>gloriously</i>. When we all got there, we walked +about in the woods, and gathered the most <i>splendid</i> flowers, and dined +under the shade of a <i>glorious</i> old elm-tree. We had our cold provisions +spread out on the grass, and every thing was <i>elegant</i>. We had +<i>glorious</i> appetites, too, and the ham and ale were <i>splendid</i>, and put +us all in fine spirits. Some of the gentlemen sang funny songs; but one +sang such a dreadfully sentimental one, and to such a horrid doleful +tune, it made us all miserable. So then we broke up, and had a +<i>splendid</i> time packing away the things; such fun! I had almost killed +myself with laughing, and we broke half the things. But the ride home +was the most <i>splendid</i> of all; we arrived at the top of the hill just +in time to see the most <i>glorious</i> sunset I ever beheld!"</p> + +<p>In this short account, the word "glorious" is used five times, and in +all but the last, it is grossly misapplied. The same is the case with +the word "splendid," except that it is not once used properly. +"Elegant," too, is equally inapplicable to horses and cold provisions. +Yet this style of conversing is so common, that it hardly arrests the +attention of many, who nevertheless would condemn it at once, if they +thought at all about it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[37]<a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="EGOTISM" id="EGOTISM"></a>EGOTISM.</h2> + + +<p>Has it ever happened to any but myself, to listen to I, I, I, in +conversation, till, wearied with the monotony of the sound, I was fain +to quarrel with the useful little word, and almost wish I could portray +its hydra head, and present it in a mirror to my oracles, that they +might turn away disgusted for ever with its hideous form.</p> + +<p>I took up my abode for some time with a lady, whose habits of +benevolence were extensive, and of whose true philanthropy of heart I +had heard much. I expected to follow her to the alms-house, the +hospital, and the garret, and I was not disappointed. Thither she went, +and for purposes the kindest and most noble. She relieved their pressing +wants; ministered consolation in the kindest tone; and gave religious +instruction wherever needed. But, then, she kept a strict calendar of +all these pious visitings; and that, too, for the entertainment of her +company. All were called upon to hear the history of the appalling +scenes she had witnessed; the tears of gratitude that had fallen on her +hands; the prayers—half articulate—that had been offered for her by +the dying; and to hear her attestations of disregard to the opposition +she had to encounter in these her labors of <span class='pagenum'>[38]<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a></span>love. Who, with such an +appeal, could withhold their commendations? I, therefore, of course, as +I listened again and again to the same tale to different auditors, heard +many pretty complimentary speeches about magnanimity, &c.; and, getting +somewhat weary, I drew nearer to the lady's guests, till I actually +thought I heard from one—he was a clergyman, I believe—an inward +whisper that he would like to refer his friend to the four first verses +of the sixth chapter of Matthew, but that it would be impolite. If my +listening powers were too acute when I heard this, let me turn monitor +at once, and assure my young friends, if they would have their +conversation listened to with pleasure, they must be economists with +<i>self</i> as their subject.</p> + +<p>On behalf of the very young, we certainly have it to plead, that they +know very little of any thing but what is, in some sense, their own. If +they talk of persons, it must be their parents, their brothers and +sisters, because they are the only people they know; if they talk of any +body's affairs, it must be their own, because they are acquainted with +no other; if of events, it must be what happens to themselves, for they +hear nothing of what happens to any body else. As soon, therefore, as +children begin to converse, it is most likely to be about themselves, or +something that belongs to them; and to the rapid growing of this +unwatched habit, may probably be attributed the ridiculous and offensive +egotism of many persons in conversation, who, in conduct, prove that +<span class='pagenum'>[39]<a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a></span>their feelings and affections are by no means self-engrossed. But the +more indigenous this unsightly weed, the more need is there to prevent +its growth. It has many varieties; the leaf is not always of the same +shape, nor the flower of the same color, but they are all of one genus; +and our readers who are botanists will have no difficulty in detecting +them, however much affected by the soil they grow in. The <i>I's</i> and +<i>my's</i> a lady exhibits in conversation, will bear such analogy to her +character, as the wares on the stall of the bazaar bear to the trade of +the vender. Or, if she have a great deal of what is called tact, she +will, perhaps, vary the article according to the demands of the market. +In fashionable life, it will be <i>my</i> cousin Sir Ralph, <i>my</i> father the +Earl, and <i>my</i> great uncle the Duke; the living relatives and the +departed fathers; the halls of her family, their rent-rolls, or their +graves, will afford abundant materials for any conversation she may have +to furnish.</p> + +<p>Among those who, having gotten into the world they know not how, are +determined it shall, at least, be known that they are there, it is <i>my</i> +houses, <i>my</i> servants, <i>my</i> park, <i>my</i> gardens; or, if the lady be too +young to claim in her own behalf, <i>my</i> father's houses, &c., &c., will +answer all the purpose. But, happily for the supply of this kind of +talk, rank and wealth, though very useful, are not necessary to it. +Without any ostentation whatever, but merely from the habit of occupying +themselves with their own individuality, some <span class='pagenum'>[40]<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a></span>will let the company +choose the subject; but, be it what it may, all they have to say upon it +is the <i>I</i>, or the <i>my</i>. Books, travel, sorrow, sickness, nature, art, +no matter, it is <i>I</i> have seen, <i>I</i> have done, <i>I</i> have been, <i>I</i> have +learned, <i>I</i> have suffered, <i>I</i> have known. Whatever it be to others, +the <i>I</i> is the subject for them; for they tell you nothing of the matter +but their own concern with it. For example, let the city of Naples be +spoken of: one will tell you what is seen there—what is done +there—what happens there—and making her reflections on all without +naming herself; you will only perceive, by her knowledge and remarks, +that she has been in Naples. Another will tell you how she came there, +and why she went, and how long she staid, and what she did, and what she +saw; and the things themselves will appear but as incidents to the idea +of self.</p> + +<p>Some ladies I have known, who, not content with the present display of +their powers, are determined to re-sell their wares at second-hand. They +tell you all the witty things they said to somebody yesterday, and the +wise remarks they made to a certain company last night. <i>I</i> said—<i>I</i> +remarked. The commodity should be valuable indeed to be thus brought to +market a second time. Others there are, who, under pretext of +confidence—little complimentary when shown alike to all—pester people +with their own affairs. Before you have been two hours in their company, +you are introduced to all their family, and to all their family's +concerns, pecuniary affairs, <span class='pagenum'>[41]<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a></span>domestic secrets, and personal feelings—a +sort of bird's-eye view of every thing that belongs to them—past, +present, and to come; and woe to the secrets of those who may chance to +have been in connection with these egotists; in such a view, you must +needs see ten miles around.</p> + +<p>There is an egotism, of which we must speak more seriously. Faults, that +in the world we laugh at, when they attain the dignity and purity of +sacred things, become matter of serious regret. I speak nothing further +of the ostentatious display of pious and benevolent exertion. We live at +a time when religion, its deepest and dearest interests, have become a +subject of general conversation. We would have it so; but we mark, with +regret, that self has introduced itself here. The heartless +loquacity—we must say heartless, for, in a matter of such deep +interest, facility of speech bespeaks the feelings light—the +unshrinking jabber with which people tell you their soul's +history—their past impressions and present difficulties—their +doctrines and their doubts—their manifestations and their +experiences—not in the ear of confidence, to have those doubts removed +and those doctrines verified; not in the ear of anxious inquiry, to +communicate knowledge and give encouragement, but any where, in any +company, and to any body who will listen, the <i>I</i> felt—<i>I</i> thought—<i>I</i> +experienced. Sorrows that, if real, should blanch the cheek to think +upon; mercies that enwrap all hearers in amazement, they will tell as +unconcernedly as the adventures of the <span class='pagenum'>[42]<a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a></span>morning. The voice falters not; +the color changes not; the eye moistens not. And to what purpose all +this personality? To get good, or do good? By no means; but that, +whatever subject they look upon, they always see themselves in the +foreground of the picture, with every minute particular swelled into +importance, while all besides is merged in indistinctness.</p> + +<p>We may be assured there is nothing so ill-bred, so annoying, so little +entertaining, so absolutely impertinent, as this habit of talking always +with reference to ourselves; for every body has a self of their own, to +which they attach as much importance as we to ours, and see all others' +matters small in the comparison. The lady of rank has her castles and +her ancestors—they are the foreground of her picture. There they stood +when she came into being; and there they are still, in all the magnitude +of near perspective; and, if her estimate of their real size be not +corrected by experience and good sense, she expects that others will see +them as large as she does. But that will not be so. The lady of wealth +has gotten her houses and lands in the foreground. These are the larger +features in her landscape; titles and the castles are seen at a smaller +angle. Neither lady will admire the proportions of her neighbor's +drawing, should they chance to discover themselves in each other's +conversation. She, again—whether rich or poor—whose world is her own +domesticity, sees nothing so prominent as the affairs of her nursery or +her household; and per<span class='pagenum'>[43]<a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a></span>ceives not that, in the eyes of others, her +children are a set of diminutives, undistinguishable in the mass of +humanity, in which that they ever existed, or that they cease to exist, +is matter of equal indifference.</p> + +<p>It is thus, that each one attributes to the objects around him, not +their true and actual proportion, but a magnitude proportioned to their +nearness to himself. We say not that he draws ill who does so: for, to +each one, things are important, more or less, in proportion to his own +interest in them. But hence is the mischief. We forget that every one +has a self of his own; and that the constant setting forth of ours is, +to others, preposterous, obtrusive, and ridiculous. The painter who +draws a folio in the front of his picture, and a castle in the distance, +properly draws the book the larger of the two: but he must be a fool, if +he therefore thinks the folio is the larger, and expects every body else +to think so too. Yet, nothing wiser are we, when we suffer ourselves to +be perpetually pointing to ourselves, our affairs, and our possessions, +as if they were as interesting to others as they are important to us.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/img10.jpg" width="225" height="41" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[44]<a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="GENTLENESS" id="GENTLENESS"></a>GENTLENESS.</h2> + + +<p>Nothing is so likely to conciliate the affections of the other sex, as a +feeling that woman looks to them for support and guidance. In proportion +as men are themselves superior, they are as accessible to this appeal. +On the contrary, they never feel interested in one who seems disposed +rather to offer than to ask assistance. There is, indeed, something +unfeminine in independence. It is contrary to nature and, therefore, it +offends. We do not like to see a woman affecting tremors, but still less +do we like to see her acting the Amazon. A really sensible woman feels +her dependence; she does what she can, but she is conscious of +inferiority, and, therefore, grateful for support; she knows that she is +the weaker vessel, and that, as such, she should receive honor.</p> + +<p>In every thing, therefore, that women attempt, they should show their +consciousness of dependence. If they are learners, let them evince a +teachable spirit; if they give an opinion, let them do it in an +unassuming manner. There is something so unpleasant in female +self-sufficiency, that it not unfrequently deters, instead of +persuading, and prevents the adoption of advice which the <span class='pagenum'>[45]<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a></span>judgment even +approves. Yet this is a fault into which women, of certain pretensions, +are occasionally betrayed. Age, or experience, or superior endowment, +entitles them, they imagine, to assume a higher place and a more +independent tone. But their sex should ever teach them to be +subordinate; and they should remember that influence is obtained, not by +assumption, but by a delicate appeal to affection or principle. Women, +in this respect, are something like children; the more they show their +need of support, the more engaging they are.</p> + +<p>The appropriate expression of dependence is gentleness. However endowed +with superior talents a woman may be, without gentleness she cannot be +agreeable. Gentleness ought to be the characteristic of the sex; and +there is nothing that can compensate for the want of this feminine +attraction.</p> + +<p>Gentleness is, indeed, the talisman of woman. To interest the feelings +is to her much easier than to convince the judgment; the heart is far +more accessible to her influence than the head. She never gains so much +as by concession; and is never so likely to overcome, as when she seems +to yield.</p> + +<p>Gentleness prepossesses at first sight; it insinuates itself into the +vantage ground, and gains the best position by surprise. While a display +of skill and strength calls forth a counter array, gentleness, at once, +disarms opposition, and wins the day before it is contested.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[46]<a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="SISTERLY_VIRTUES" id="SISTERLY_VIRTUES"></a>SISTERLY VIRTUES.</h2> + + +<p>Sisterly affection is as graceful in its developments to the eye of the +beholder, as it is cheering to the heart where it resides. There are +some who, though not deficient in its more important duties, are but too +regardless of those lesser demonstrations of attachment, which are so +soothing to the susceptible heart. Every delicate attention which +tenderness prompts; every mark of politeness which refined society +requires, ought to pervade the intercourse of brothers and sisters. It +is a mistake that good manners are to be reserved for visitors, and +that, in the family circle, negligence and coarseness may be indulged +with impunity. Even nature's affections may be undermined or shaken by +perseverance in an improper deportment, more than by lapses into error +and folly. For the latter, repentance may atone, while the former check +the flow of the heart's warm fountains, until they stagnate or become +congealed.</p> + +<p>I knew a father, himself a model of polished manners, who required of +his large family to treat each other, at all times, with the same +politeness that they felt was due to their most distinguished guest. +Rudeness, neglect, or indifference were never tolerated in their circle. +Respect to <span class='pagenum'>[47]<a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a></span>each other's opinion; a disposition to please and be +pleased; care in dress, and courtesy of manner, were not considered +thrown away, if bestowed on a brother or a sister. Every one of the +group was instructed to bring amiable feelings and powers of +entertainment to their own fire side. The result was happy. The brothers +felt it an honor to wait upon their sisters, and the sisters a pleasure +to do all in their power for the comfort and improvement of their +brothers. This daily practice of every decorum, imparted to their +manners an enduring grace, while the affections, which Heaven implanted, +seemed to gather strength from the beauty of their interchange. I would +not assert that fraternal or sisterly affection may not be deep and +pervading without such an exterior, yet it is surely rendered more +lovely by it; as the planets might pursue in darkness the order of their +course, but it is their brilliance which reveals and embellishes it.</p> + +<p>Every well-regulated family might be as a perpetual school. The younger +members, witnessing the example of those whose excellence is more +confirmed, will be led, by the principle of imitation, more effectually, +than by the whole force of foreign precept. The custom of the older +daughters, to assist in the education of their less advanced sisters, I +rejoice to see, is becoming more common. It cannot be too highly +applauded. What should prevent their assuming the systematic office of +instructors, when circumstances are favorable to such an arrangement.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[48]<a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a></span></p> + +<p>By what method can a daughter more fully evince her gratitude to her +parents, than by aiding their children in the search of knowledge and of +goodness. How amiable, how praiseworthy, is that disposition which +prompts a young and beautiful creature to come forth as the ally of a +mother, in that most overwhelming of all anxieties, so to train her +little ones as to form at last an unbroken family in heaven. No better +apprenticeship could be devised, and no firmer hostage given to God or +man for its faithful performance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 72px;"> +<img src="images/img11.jpg" width="72" height="225" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[49]<a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="HOME" id="HOME"></a>HOME.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where burns the lov'd hearth brightest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cheering the social breast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where beats the fond heart lightest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its humble hopes possess'd?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the smile of sadness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of meek-eyed patience born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worth more than those of gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which mirth's bright cheek adorn?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pleasure is marked by fleetness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To those who ever roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While grief itself has sweetness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At home! dear home!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There blend the ties that strengthen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hearts in hours of grief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silver links that lengthen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joy's visits when most brief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There eyes, in all their splendor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are vocal to the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glances, gay or tender,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh eloquence impart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, dost thou sigh for pleasure?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O! do not widely roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But seek that hidden treasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At home! dear home!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[50]<a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Does pure religion charm thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far more than aught below?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would'st thou that she should arm thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against the hour of woe?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think not she dwelleth only<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In temples built for prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For home itself is lonely,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unless her smiles be there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The devotee may falter,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bigot blindly roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If worshipless her altar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At home! dear home!<br /></span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love over it presideth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With meek and watchful awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its daily service guideth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shows its perfect law?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If there thy faith shall fail thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If there no shrine be found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What can thy prayers avail thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With kneeling crowds around?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go! leave thy gift unoffered<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath religion's dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be thy first fruits proffered<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At home! dear home!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/img12.jpg" width="225" height="40" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[51]<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="FIRESIDE_INFLUENCE" id="FIRESIDE_INFLUENCE"></a>FIRESIDE INFLUENCE.</h2> + + +<p>Is it not true that parents are the lawgivers of their children? Does +not a mother's counsel—does not a father's example—cling to the +memory, and haunt us through life? Do we not often find ourselves +subject to habitual trains of thought? and, if we seek to discover the +origin of these, are we not insensibly led back, by some beaten and +familiar track, to the paternal threshold? Do we not often discover some +home-chiseled grooves in our minds, into which the intellectual +machinery seems to slide, as by a sort of necessity? Is it not, in +short, a proverbial truth, that the controlling lessons of life are +given beneath the parental roof? We know, indeed, that wayward passions +spring up in early life, and, urging us to set authority at defiance, +seek to obtain the mastery of the heart. But, though struggling for +liberty and license, the child is shaped and molded by the parent. The +stream that bursts from the fountain, and seems to rush forward headlong +and self-willed, still turns hither and thither, according to the shape +of its mother-earth over which it flows. If an obstacle is thrown across +its path, it gathers strength, breaks away the barrier, and again bounds +for<span class='pagenum'>[52]<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a></span>ward. It turns, and winds, and proceeds on its course, till it +reaches its destiny in the sea. But, in all this, it has shaped its +course and followed out its career, from babbling infancy at the +fountain to its termination in the great reservoir of waters, according +to the channel which its parent earth has provided. Such is the +influence of a parent over his child. It has within itself a will, and +at its bidding it goes forward, but the parent marks out its track. He +may not stop its progress, but he may guide its course. He may not throw +a dam across its path, and say to it, hitherto mayest thou go, and no +farther; but he may turn it through safe, and gentle, and useful +courses—or he may leave it to plunge over wild cataracts, or lose +itself in some sandy desert, or collect its strength into a torrent, but +to spread ruin and desolation along its borders.</p> + +<p>The fireside, then, is a seminary of infinite importance: it is +important, because it is universal, and because the education it +bestows, being woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form and color +to the whole texture of life. There are few who can receive the honors +of a college, but all are graduates of the hearth. The learning of the +university may fade from the recollection, its classic lore may molder +in the halls of memory; but the simple lessons of home, enameled upon +the heart of childhood, defy the rust of years, and outlive the more +mature but less vivid pictures of after days. So deep, so lasting, +indeed, are the impressions of early life, that we often see a man, <span class='pagenum'>[53]<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a></span>in +the imbecility of age, holding fresh in his recollection the events of +childhood, while all the wide space between that and the present hour is +a blasted and forgotten waste. You have perchance seen an old and +half-obliterated portrait, and, in the attempt to have it cleaned and +restored, may have seen it fade away, while a brighter and more perfect +picture, painted beneath, is revealed to view. This portrait, first +drawn upon the canvas, is no inapt illustration of youth; and, though +it may be concealed by some after-design, still the original traits will +shine through the outward picture, giving it tone while fresh, and +surviving it in decay. Such is the fireside—the great institution +furnished by Providence for the education of man.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/img13.jpg" width="75" height="98" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[54]<a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="PERSONAL_APPEARANCE" id="PERSONAL_APPEARANCE"></a>PERSONAL APPEARANCE.</h2> + + +<h3 style="font-weight: normal;">THE TEETH.</h3> + +<p>The prevalence of defective teeth in this country is the general subject +of remark by foreigners; and whoever has traveled in Spain and Portugal +is struck with the superior soundness and whiteness of teeth in those +countries. Though not a cleanly people in other respects, they wash +their teeth often, and, by means of toothpicks, carefully remove all +substances from between them after meals. A little silver porcupine, +with holes all over its back to insert toothpicks, is a common ornament +on the dining tables of Spain and Portugal. The general use of them +creates so large a demand, that students at Coimbra sometimes support +themselves by whittling toothpicks, which are sold tied in small bunches +like matches. They are made of willow, on account of its toughness and +pliability. Toothpicks of metal are too hard, and are apt to injure the +gums. There is the same objection, in a less degree, to quills. But +willow toothpicks are preferable to all others; and they have the +advantage of being the most cleanly, for they generally break in the +using, and are <span class='pagenum'>[55]<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></span>thrown away. Few sights are more offensive to a person +of any refinement than a toothpick that has been much used; it is, +moreover, uncleanly, and therefore not healthy for the teeth. Food +allowed to remain between the teeth, particularly animal food, is very +destructive: it should be carefully removed after every meal, and the +mouth thoroughly rinsed. This may seem to some like a great talk about a +small matter; but these are simple precautions to take, and very slight +trouble compared with the agony of aching teeth, or a breath so +offensive that your best friend does not wish to sit near you. I can see +no reason why a man's complexion should exclude him from the +dining-table, but I do see a very good reason why he should be banished +for not taking proper care of his teeth. A bad breath is such a +detestable thing, that it might be a sufficient reason for not marrying +a person of otherwise agreeable qualities. It is, moreover, perfectly +inexcusable thus to transform oneself into a walking sepulchre. Nobody +needs to have an offensive breath. A careful removal of substances from +between the teeth, rinsing the mouth after meals, and a bit of charcoal +held in the mouth, will <i>always</i> cure a bad breath. Charcoal, used as a +dentifrice—that is, rubbed on in powder with a brush—is apt to injure +the enamel; but a lump of it, held in the mouth, two or three times in a +week, and slowly chewed, has a wonderful power to preserve the teeth and +purify the breath. The action is purely chemical. It counteracts the +acid arising from a disordered <span class='pagenum'>[56]<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></span>stomach, or food decaying about the +gums; and it is the acid which destroys the teeth.</p> + +<p>Every one knows that charcoal is an antiputrescent, and is used in +boxing up animal or vegetable substances, to keep them from decay. Upon +the same chemical principle, it tends to preserve the teeth and sweeten +the breath. There is no danger from swallowing it; on the contrary, +small quantities have a healthful effect on the inward system, +particularly when the body is suffering from that class of complaints +peculiarly incident to summer. It would not be wise to swallow that or +any other gritty substance, in large quantities, or very frequently; +but, once or twice a week, a little would be salutary, rather than +otherwise. A bit of charcoal, as big as a cherry, merely held in the +mouth a few hours, without chewing, has a good effect. At first, most +persons dislike to chew it, but use soon renders it far from +disagreeable. Those who are troubled with an offensive breath might chew +it very often and swallow it but seldom. It is particularly important to +clean and rinse the mouth thoroughly before going to bed; otherwise a +great deal of the destructive acid will form during the night.</p> + +<p>If these hints induce only <i>one</i> person to take better care of the +teeth, I shall be more than rewarded for the trouble of writing. It is +painful to see young persons losing their teeth merely for want of a few +simple precautions; and one cannot enter stage or steam-car without +finding the atmosphere polluted, and rendered absolutely unhealthy <span class='pagenum'>[57]<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></span>for +the lungs to breathe, when a proper use of water and charcoal might +render it as wholesome and pleasant as a breeze of Eden.</p> + +<hr style="width: 5em;" /> + +<h3 style="font-weight: normal;"><a name="HAIR" id="HAIR"></a>THE HAIR.</h3> + +<p>No part of the human frame offers a finer subject for the display of +decorative taste and elegance than the hair:—the countenance, the +contour of the head, and even the whole person, may be said to be +greatly affected by its arrangement and dress. As the possession of fine +hair is peculiarly prized, so is its loss proportionally felt.</p> + +<p>Like every other portion of the human frame, the use of <i>water</i> to the +hair is absolutely essential to its health, as it tends to relieve the +secretions and open the pores of the skin. The frequency of the use of +water, however, should be guided by circumstances. It may be set down as +a regulating principle, that the stronger and more healthy the hair may +be, the more water may be used with propriety; by the same rule, when +the hair is weak and thin, it should not be washed more than once +a-week. At such times, <i>cold water</i> alone should be used, when care +should be taken to dry it well immediately after. Washing too often, +dries up the requisite oily fluid that forms the nourishment of the +hair.</p> + +<p>Some judgment is necessary in the choice of brushes. Two are necessary: +a penetrating and a polishing brush; the one composed of strong, <span class='pagenum'>[58]<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></span>and +the other of fine hair. The penetrating brush (especially that used by +ladies) should be made of elastic hairs, rather inclining to irregular +lengths. The other should be made of firm, soft, silken hair, thickly +studded. Unfortunately, however, we cannot but observe that penetrating +brushes are often selected, so harsh and strong, that they fret the skin +of the head, and injure the roots, instead of gently and gradually +effecting the object for which they were intended.</p> + +<p>Combs are merely used for the purpose of giving a form to the hair, and +assisting in its decorative arrangement; to use them too often, is +rather prejudicial than otherwise, as they injure the roots of the hair. +Above all kinds, that of the small-toothed comb is the most injurious in +this respect, as it not only inflames the tender skin, but, from the +fineness of its teeth, splits and crushes the hairs in being passed +through them. Persons must indeed be of very uncleanly habits, whose +heads absolutely require the aid of this comb, as the brush alone +sufficiently possesses the power of effectually cleaning the hair from +scurf, dandriff, and dust, if constantly used.</p> + +<p>To persons whose hair is in a declining state, the frequent and regular +use of oil or bear's grease is often of much service, as it is +calculated to assist in supplying that nourishment which is so +necessary. No oil perhaps has ever acquired a greater celebrity than +Rowland's Macassar; for this reason we cannot but recommend it to the +notice of our readers.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[59]<a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a></span></p> + +<p>One of the most pernicious methods of dressing the hair, at the expense +of its health, is by curling. This not only dries up the moisture that +circulates through the hairs, but the heat and compression thus used +completely prevent proper circulation. When, however, the habit is +persisted in, its ill effects may be much obviated by constantly +brushing the hair well, and having it frequently cut, by which means the +necessary circulation is kept up, and the roots invigorated.</p> + +<hr style="width: 5em;" /> + +<h3 style="font-weight: normal;"><a name="HANDS" id="HANDS"></a>THE HANDS.</h3> + +<p>"Why don't my hands look and feel as it would seem that the perfect +Author of all things would have them?" How many a young man and woman +have asked this question! and are troubled to know why it is that some +persons have such bloodless hands, perfect nails, so free from +hang-nails, as they are called, while their own hands look so much like +duck's feet or bird's claws.</p> + +<p>All sorts of cosmetics, the most penetrating oils, rubbing and scouring +the hands, paring and scraping the nails, and cutting round the roots of +the nails, are resorted to, in hopes of making their hands appear +natural; but all avails nothing, and many a poor hand is made to perform +all its manipulations <i>incognito</i>. About the piano, in the social party, +in the house, and in the street, the hand—the most exquisite, or what +should be the <span class='pagenum'>[60]<a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a></span>most beautiful and useful part of the human frame—is +<i>gloved</i>. And why? Because it is not fit to be seen.</p> + +<p>Now, reader, I am about to tell you of a positive cure. In the first +place, never cut or scrape your finger-nails with a knife or scissors, +except in paring them down to the end of the fingers. Secondly, use +nothing but a good stiff nail-brush, fine soap, and water, and rub the +nails and hands briskly with these every morning the <i>year round</i>. In +the third place, I would have you know that surfeiting will invariably +produce heavy, burning hands. An impure state of the blood will manifest +itself in the hands sooner than in most other parts of the body. If you +have bad hands, be assured that the quantity or quality, or both, of +your diet is wrong.</p> + +<p>If you try to profit by these suggestions, you will, before one year +expires, be no longer ashamed of your hands.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 188px;"> +<img src="images/img14.jpg" width="188" height="180" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[61]<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="DRESS" id="DRESS"></a>DRESS.</h2> + + +<p>There are some rules, which, being based on first principles, are of +universal application. And one of these belongs to our present subject, +<i>viz:</i> nothing can be truly beautiful which is not appropriate. Nature +and the fine arts teach us this. All styles of dress, therefore, which +impede the motions of the wearer—which do not sufficiently protect the +person—which add unnecessarily to the heat of summer, or to the cold of +winter—which do not suit the age or occupations of the wearer, or which +indicate an expenditure unsuited to her means, are <i>inappropriate</i>, and, +therefore, destitute of one of the essential elements of beauty. +Propriety, or fitness, lies at the foundation of all good taste in +dressing; and to this test should be brought a variety of particulars, +too numerous to be mentioned, but which may be thus illustrated: The +dress that would be very proper on occasion of a morning visit in a +city, would be so out of place, if worn by the same person when making +preserves or pastry, or when scrambling through the bushes in a country +walk, that it would cease to look well. A simple calico gown and white +apron would be so much <span class='pagenum'>[62]<a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></span>more convenient and suitable, that the wearer +would actually look better in them.</p> + +<p>Some persons, also, toil early and late, and strain every nerve to +procure an expensive garment, and think that once arrayed in it, they +shall look as well as some richer neighbor, whose style of dress they +wish to imitate. But they forget that, if it does not accord with their +general style of living—if it is out of harmony with other things, it +will so strike every body; and this want of fitness will prevent its +looking well on them.</p> + +<p>Let a true sense of propriety of the fitness of things regulate all your +habits of living and dressing, and it will produce such a beautiful +harmony and consistency of character, as to throw a charm around you +that all may feel, though few may comprehend. Always consider well +whether the articles of dress which you wish to purchase are suited to +your age—your condition—your means—to the climate—to the particular +use to which you mean to put them; and then let the principles of good +taste keep you from the extremes of fashion; and regulate the form so as +to combine utility and beauty, while the known rules of harmony in +colors save you from shocking the eye of the artist by incongruous +mixtures.</p> + +<p>The character is much more shown in the style of dress that is worn +every day, than in that which is designed for great occasions; and when +I see a young girl come down to the family breakfast in an untidy +wrapper, with her hair in papers, her feet slip-shod, and an old silk +hand<span class='pagenum'>[63]<a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a></span>kerchief round her neck, I know that she cannot be the neat, +industrious, and refined person whom I should like for an inmate. I feel +equally certain, too, that her chamber is not kept in neat order, and +that she does not set a proper value upon time. However well a lady has +appeared at a party, I would recommend to a young gentleman—before he +makes up his mind as to her domestic qualities—to observe her +appearance at the breakfast-table, when she expects to see only her own +family; and, if it be such as I have just described, to beware how he +prosecutes the acquaintance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img15.jpg" width="112" height="295" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[64]<a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="COMPRESSION_OF_THE_LUNGS" id="COMPRESSION_OF_THE_LUNGS"></a>COMPRESSION OF THE LUNGS.</h2> + + +<p>Few circumstances are more injurious to beauty than the constrained +movement, suffused complexion, and labored respiration that betray +tight-lacing. The play of intelligence, and varied emotion, which throw +such a charm over the brow of youth, are impeded by whatever obstructs +the flow of blood from the heart to its many organs. In Greece, where +the elements of beauty and grace were earliest comprehended, and most +happily illustrated, the fine symmetry of the form was left untortured.</p> + +<p>But the influence of this habit on beauty is far less to be deprecated +than its effects upon health. That pulmonary disease, affections of the +heart, and insanity, are in its train, and that it leads some of our +fairest and dearest to Fashion's shrine to die, is placed beyond a doubt +by strong medical testimony.</p> + +<p>Dr. Mussey, whose "<i>Lectures on Intemperance</i>" have so forcibly arrested +the attention of the public, asserts that "greater numbers annually die +among the female sex, in consequence of tight-lacing, than are destroyed +among the other sex by the use of spirituous liquors in the same time." +Is it possible that thousands of our own sex, in <span class='pagenum'>[65]<a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a></span>our own native land, +lay, with their own hand, the foundation of diseases that destroy +life!—and are willing, for fashion's sake, to commit suicide!</p> + +<p>Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for the Insane, in +Connecticut, to whom science and philanthropy are indebted, adduces many +instances of the fearful effects of obstructed circulation on the brain. +Being requested by the instructress of a large female seminary to +enforce on her pupils the evils of compression in dress, he said, with +that eloquence of eye and soul, which none, who once felt their +influence, can ever forget: "The whole course of your studies, my dear +young ladies, conspires to impress you with reverence for antiquity. +Especially do you turn to Greece for the purest models in the fine arts, +and the loftiest precepts of philosophy. While sitting, as disciples, at +the feet of her men of august minds, you may have sometimes doubted how +to balance, or where to bestow your admiration. The acuteness of +Aristotle—the purity of Plato—the calm, unrepented satisfaction of +Socrates—the varied lore of Epicurus, and the lofty teachings of Zeno, +have alternately attracted or absorbed your attention. Permit me to +suppose, that the high-toned ethics of the Stoics, and their elevation +of mind, which could teach its frail companion, the body, the proud +lesson of insensibility to pain, have won your peculiar complaisance. +Yet, while meting out to them the full measure of your applause, have +you ever recollected that modern times—that your own country came in +compe<span class='pagenum'>[66]<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></span>tition for a share of fame! Has it occurred to you that your own +sex—even the most delicate and tender part of it—exceeded the ancient +Stoics in the voluntary infliction of pain, and extinction of pity? Yes; +some of the timid and beautiful members of this seminary may enter the +lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysippus, and cherish no slight hope +of victory. I trust to prove to you that the ancient and sublime Stoics +were very tyros in comparison with many a lady of our own times. In +degree of suffering, extent of endurance, and in perfection of +concealment, they must yield the palm. I do assure you, that, its most +illustrious masters—fruitful as they were in tests to try the +body—never invented, imagined, nor would have been able to sustain that +torture of tight-lacing which the modern belle steadily inflicts without +shrinking, and bears without repining sometimes to her very grave. True, +they might sometimes have broken a bone, or plucked out an eye, and been +silent; but they never grappled iron and whalebone into the very nerves +and life-blood of their system. They might possibly have passed a dagger +too deeply info the heart, and died; but they never drew a ligature of +suffocation around it, and <i>expected to live</i>! They never tied up the +mouths of the millions of air-vessels in the lungs, and then taxed them +to the full measure of action and respiration. Even Pharaoh only +demanded bricks without straw for a short time; but the fashionable lady +asks to live without breathing for many years!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[67]<a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a></span></p> + +<p>"The ancient Stoics taught that the nearest approach to apathy was the +perfection of their doctrine. They prudently rested in utter +indifference; they did not attempt to go beyond it; they did not claim +absolute denial of all suffering; still less did they enjoin to persist +and rejoice in it, even to the 'dividing asunder of soul and body.' In +this, too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady taking a flight beyond +the sublime philosopher. She will not admit that she feels the slightest +inconvenience. Though she has fairly won laurels to which no Stoic dared +aspire, yet she studiously disclaims the distinction which she faced +death to earn—yea, denies that she has either part of lot in the +matter; surpassing in modesty, as well as in desert, all that antiquity +can boast or history record."</p> + +<p>We quote the following from Miss Sedgwick: "One word as to these small +waists: Symmetry is essential to beauty of form. A waist +disproportionately small is a deformity to an instructed eye. Women must +have received their notions of small waists from ignorant dress-makers. +If young ladies could hear the remarks made on these small waists by men +generally, and especially men of taste, they would never again show +themselves till they had loosened their corset-laces and enlarged their +belts."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/img16.jpg" width="225" height="30" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[68]<a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="LETTER-WRITING" id="LETTER-WRITING"></a>LETTER-WRITING.</h2> + + +<p>It sometimes happens that, in fashionable penmanship, the circumstance +that it is <i>to be deciphered</i> seems to have been forgotten. "To read so +as not to be understood, and to write so as not to be read, are among +the minor immoralities," says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More. Elegant +chirography, and a clear epistolary style, are accomplishments which +every educated female should possess. Their indispensable requisites +are, neatness, the power of being easily perused, orthographical and +grammatical correctness. Defects in either of these particulars, are +scarcely pardonable. The hand-writing is considered by many, one of the +talismans of character. Whether this test may be depended on or not, the +fact that letters travel farther than the sound of the voice, or the +sight of the countenance can follow, renders it desirable that they +should convey no incorrect or unfavorable impression. The lesser +niceties of folding, sealing, and superscription, are not beneath the +notice of a lady.</p> + +<p>Letter-writing is a subject of so varied and extensive a nature, that it +can scarcely be reduced to rules or taught by precept; but some +instructions respecting it may afford assistance in avoiding error, and +obtaining a degree of excellence in this most important exercise.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[69]<a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a></span></p> + +<p>When you write a letter to any person, express the same sentiments and +use the same language as you would do if you were conversing with him. +"Write eloquently," says Mr. Gray, "that is, from your heart, in such +expressions as that will furnish."</p> + +<p>Before you begin a letter, especially when it is on any occasion of +importance, weigh well in your own mind the design and purport of it; +and consider very attentively what sentiments are most proper for you to +express, and your correspondent to read.</p> + +<p>To assist invention and promote order, it may, as some writers on +epistolary composition recommend, occasionally be of use to make, in the +mind, a division of a letter into three parts, the beginning, middle, +and end; or, in other words, the exordium or introduction, the narration +or proposition, and the conclusion. The exordium, or introduction, +should be employed, not indeed with the formality of rhetoric, but with +the ease of genuine politeness and benevolence, in conciliating favor +and attention; the narration or proposition, in stating the business +with clearness and precision; the conclusion, in confirming what has +been premised, in making apologies where any are necessary, and in +cordial expressions of respect, esteem, or affection.</p> + +<p>Scrupulously adhere to the rules of grammar. Select and apply all your +words with a strict regard to their proper signification, and whenever +you have any doubts respecting the correctness or <span class='pagenum'>[70]<a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a></span>propriety of them, +consult a dictionary or some good living authority. Avoid, with +particular care, all errors in orthography, in punctuation, and in the +arrangement of words and phrases.</p> + +<p>Dashes, underlinings, and interlineations, are much used by unskillful +and careless writers, merely as substitutes for proper punctuation, and +a correct, regular mode of expression. The frequent recurrence of them +greatly defaces a letter, and is equally inconsistent with neatness of +appearance and regularity of composition. All occasion for +interlineations may usually be superseded by a little previous thought +and attention. Dashes are proper only when the sense evidently requires +a greater pause than the common stops designate. And in a +well-constructed sentence, to underline a word is wholly useless, except +on some very particular occasion we wish to attract peculiar attention +to it, or to give it an uncommon degree of importance or emphasis.</p> + +<p>Postscripts have a very awkward appearance, and they generally indicate +thoughtlessness and inattention. To make use of them in order to convey +assurances of respect to the person to whom you write, or to those who +are intimately connected with him, is particularly improper; it seems to +imply that the sentiments you express are so slightly impressed upon +your mind, that you had almost forgotten them or thought them scarcely +worth mentioning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[71]<a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="MUSIC" id="MUSIC"></a>MUSIC.</h2> + + +<p>This accomplishment, so popular at the present time, is a source of +surpassing delight to many minds. From its power to soothe the feelings +and modify the passions, it seems desirable to understand it, if it does +not involve too great expense of time. Vocal music is an accomplishment +within the reach of most persons. "I have a piano within myself," said a +little girl, "and I can play on that, if I have no other."</p> + +<p>An excellent clergyman, possessing much knowledge of human nature, +instructed his large family of daughters in the theory and practice of +music. They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable and happy. A +friend inquired if there was any secret in his mode of education. He +replied, "When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to them <i>sing</i>; +and, if I hear them speaking against any person, I call them to sing to +me, and so they have sung away all causes of discontent, and every +disposition to scandal." Such a use of this accomplishment might serve +to fit a family for the company of angels and the clime of praise. Young +voices around the domestic altar, breathing sacred music at the hour of +morning and evening devotions, are a sweet and touching accompaniment.</p> + +<p>Instrumental music, being more expensive in its attainment, both of +money and time, and its <span class='pagenum'>[72]<a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a></span>indifferent performance giving pain to those +of refined sensibility, seems scarcely desirable to be cultivated, +unless the impulse of native taste prompts or justifies the labor. The +spirited pen of Miss Martineau, in her "Five First Years of Youth," has +sketched a pleasing description of a young lady, possessing a strong +predilection for music. "She sang much and often, not that she had any +particular aim at being very accomplished, but because she loved it, or, +as she said, because <a name="she_could_not_help_it_She_sang_to" id="she_could_not_help_it_She_sang_to"></a>she could not help it She sang to Nurse Rickham's +children; she sang as she went up and down stairs; she sang when she was +glad, and when she was sorry; when her father was at home, because he +liked it; and when he was out, because he could not be disturbed by it. +In the woods, at noonday, she sang like a bird, that a bird might answer +her; and, if she awoke in the dark night, the feeling of solemn music +came over her, with which she dared not break the silence."</p> + +<p>Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt that opportunities for its +improvement should be gladly accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems +cause of regret, when time, perhaps health, are sacrificed to the +accomplishment. Even where a tolerable performance of instrumental music +might probably be attained, without the prompting of decided taste, +there may be danger of absorbing too much of time and attention from +those employments which a female ought to understand and will be +expected to discharge, and which are in reality of far greater +importance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[73]<a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="FLOWERS" id="FLOWERS"></a>FLOWERS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who does not love a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hues are taken from the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which summer's suns fling, pure and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In scatter'd and prismatic hues,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That smile and shine in drooping dews;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its fragrance from the sweetest air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its form from all that's light and fair—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who does not love a flower?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>In the two great floral kingdoms of nature, the botanical and the human, +if we must yield the palm to that which is alike transcendent in the +beauty of form and motion, and in the higher attributes of intelligence, +innocence, and rural perfection, yet it can be no derogation to admire, +with a rapture bordering upon enthusiasm, the splendid products of the +garden; and especially when their beauties are combined and arranged +with an exquisite and refined taste. What is the heart made of which can +find no sentiment in flowers! In the dahlia, for example, we see what +can be done by human skill and art, in educating and training a simple +and despised plant, scarcely thought worthy of cultivation, to the +highest rank <span class='pagenum'>[74]<a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a></span>of gayety and glory in the aristocracy of flowers. We may +learn, from such success, a lesson of encouragement, in the education +and training of flowers, of an infinitely higher value and perfection.</p> + +<p>The vast creation of God—the centre and source of good—is every where +radiant with beauty. From the shell that lies buried in the depths of +the ocean, to the twinkling star that floats in the more profound depths +of the firmament—through all the forms of material and animated +existence, beauty, beauty, beauty prevails! In the floral kingdom, it +appears in an infinite variety—in an unstinted and even a richer +profusion than in other departments of nature. While these contributions +are thrown out so lavishly at our feet, and a taste for flowers seems +almost an instinct of nature, and is one of the most innocent and +refined sentiments which we can cultivate, let us indulge and gratify it +to the utmost extent, whenever leisure, opportunity, and fortune give us +the means. There is no danger of an excess, under those reasonable +restrictions which all our sentiments demand.</p> + +<p>"But," says some cynical objector, "flowers are only to please the eye." +And why should not the eye be pleased? What sense may be more innocently +gratified? They are among the most simple and cheapest luxuries in which +we ever indulge.</p> + +<p>The taste for flowers—every where increasing among us—is an omen of +good. Let us adorn our <span class='pagenum'>[75]<a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></span>parlors, door-ways, yards, and road-sides with +trees, and shrubs, and flowers. What a delight do they give to the +passer-by! What favorable impressions do they, at once, excite towards +those who cultivate them for their own gratification, and find, after +all, their chief pleasure in the gratification which they afford to +others! What an affecting charm—associated as it is with some of the +best sentiments of our nature—do they give to the sad dwelling-places +of the departed and beloved!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/img17.jpg" width="225" height="182" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[76]<a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="TIME" id="TIME"></a>TIME.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"I saw the leaves gliding down a brook;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Swift the brook ran, and bright the sun burned:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sere and the verdant, the same course they took—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And sped gayly and fast—but they never returned.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I thought how the years of a man pass away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threescore and ten—and then where are they?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>"Threescore years and ten," thought I to myself, as I walked, one rainy +morning, as a sailor walks the quarter-deck, up and down a short alcove, +extending before the windows of a modern house. It was one of those days +in June, in which our summer-hopes take umbrage at what we call +unseasonable weather, though no season was ever known to pass without +them. Unlike the rapid and delightful showers of warmer days, suddenly +succeeding to the sunshine, when the parched vegetables and arid earth +seize with avidity, and imbibe the moisture ere it becomes unpleasant to +our feelings, there had fallen a drizzling rain throughout the night; +the saturated soil returned to the atmosphere the humidity it could no +longer absorb; and there it hung, in chilling thickness, between rain +and fog. The birds did not sing, and <span class='pagenum'>[77]<a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a></span>the flowers did not open, for the +cold drop was on their cheek, and no sunbeam was there to expand them. +Nature itself wore the garb of sadness, and man's too dependent spirits +were ready to assume it—those, at least, that were not so happy as to +find means of forgetting it. Such was the case with my unfortunate self.</p> + +<p>I had descended to the breakfast-room, at the usual hour, but no one +appeared; I looked for a book, but found none but an almanac. The books +were kept in the library—beyond all dispute their proper place, had I +not been in a humor to think otherwise. The house was too hot, and the +external air was too cold; and I was fain to betake myself to that last +resort of the absolutely idle—a mechanical movement of the body up and +down a given space. And, from the alcove where I walked, I heard the +ticking of the timepiece; and, as I passed the window, I saw the hands +advance; every time I had returned, they had gone a little farther. +"Threescore years and ten," said I to myself; "and a third or fourth of +it is nature's claim for indispensable repose—and many a day consumed +on the bed of sickness—and many a year by the infirmities of age—and +some part of all necessarily sacrificed to the recruiting of the health +by exercise. And what do we with the rest?" Nothing answered me but the +ticking of the clock, of which the hands were traversing between eight +and nine. They had nearly met, at the appointed hour, when the party +began to assemble within; and each one commenced, for <span class='pagenum'>[78]<a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a></span>aught I could +discover, the functions of the day, for neither their appearance nor +their remarks gave any intimation that they had been previously +employed. One, indeed, declared the weather made her so idle she had +scarcely found strength to dress herself; another confessed he had +passed an additional hour in bed, because the day promised him so little +to do up. One by one, as they dropped in, the seats at the +breakfast-table were filled; and, as a single newspaper was all the +apparent means of mental occupation, I anticipated some interesting +conversation.</p> + +<p>I waited and I watched. One ran the point of his fork into the +table-cloth; another balanced her spoon on the tea-cup; a third told +backwards and forwards the rings on her fingers, as duly as a friar +tells his beads. As such actions sometimes are the symptoms of mental +occupation, I began to anticipate the brilliant results of so much +thinking. I cried, hem! in hopes to rouse them to expression—and not +quite unsuccessfully: for one remarked, it was a wretched day; another +wished it was fine; and a third hoped it shortly would be so. Meantime, +the index of the clock went round; it was gaining close upon ten before +all had withdrawn from the table. My eye followed one to the +window-place; where, with her back to the wall, and her eyes fixed +without, she passed a full half hour in gazing at the prospect without, +or wishing, perhaps, the mist did not prevent her seeing it. A very +young lady was so busy in pulling the dead leaves from a geranium, <span class='pagenum'>[79]<a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a></span>and +crumbling them in her fingers, I could not doubt but some important +purpose was in the task. A third resumed the newspaper he had read for a +whole hour before, and betook himself, at last, to the advertisements. A +fourth repaired to the alcove, gathered some flowers, picked them to +pieces, threw them away again, and returned. "Cease thy prating, thou +never-resting time-piece!" said I to myself, "for no one heeds thy tale. +What is it to us that each one of thy tickings cuts a link from our +brief chain of life? Time is the gift of Heaven, but man has no use for +it!"</p> + +<p>I had scarcely thought out the melancholy reflection, when a young lady +entered with an elegant work-box, red without and blue within, and +filled with manifold conveniences for the pursuance of her art. Glad was +I most truly at the sight. By the use of the needle, the naked may be +clothed; ingenuity may economize her means, and have more to spare for +those who need it; invention may multiply the ways of honest +subsistence, and direct the ignorant to the use of them. Most glad was +I, therefore, that the signal of industry drew more than one wanderer to +the same pursuit, though not till much time had been consumed in going +in and out, and up and down, in search of the materials. All were found +at last; the party worked, and I, as usual, listened. "I think this +trimming," said one, "will repay me for my trouble, though it has cost +me three months' work already, and it will be three months more before +<span class='pagenum'>[80]<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></span>it is finished." "Indeed!" rejoined her friend; "I wish I were half as +industrious; but I have been working six weeks at this handkerchief, and +have not had time to finish it: now the fashion is passed, and I shall +not go on." "How beautifully you are weaving that necklace! Is it not +very tedious?" "Yes, almost endless; but I delight in the work, +otherwise I should not do it, for the beads cost almost as much as I +could buy it for." "I should like to begin one this morning," interposed +a fourth, "but the milliner has sent home my bonnet so ill-trimmed, it +will take me all the day to alter it: the bow is on the wrong side, and +the trimming on the edge is too broad. It is very tiresome to spend all +one's life in altering things we pay so much for." "I wish," said a +little girl at the end of the table, "that I might work some trimmings +for my frock, but I am obliged to do this plain work first. The poor +lame girl in the village, who is almost starving, would do it for me for +a shilling, but I must save my allowance this week to buy a French +trinket I have taken a fancy to." "Poor thing! she is much to be +pitied," said the lady of the trimming; "if I had time, I would make her +some clothes."</p> + +<p>And so they worked, and so they talked, till I and the time-piece had +counted many an hour which they took no account of, when one of them +yawned, and said, "How tedious are these wet days; it is really +impossible to spin out one's time without a walk." "I am surprised you +find it so," rejoined the lady of the beads; "I can rarely take <span class='pagenum'>[81]<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a></span>time +for walking, though keeping the house makes me miserably languid."</p> + +<p>And so the morning passed. It was nearly two o'clock, and the company +dispersed to their apartments. I pretend not to know what they did +there; but each one returned between three and four in an altered dress. +And then half an hour elapsed, in which, as I understood from their +impatience, they were waiting for dinner; each in turn complaining of +the waste of time occasioned by its delay, and the little use it would +be to go about any thing when it was so near. And as soon as dinner was +over, they began to wait for tea with exactly the same complainings. And +the tea came, and, cheered by the vivifying draught, one did repair to +the instrument, and began a tune; one did take up a pencil, and prepare +to draw; and one almost opened a book. But, alas! the shades of night +were growing fast:—ten minutes had scarcely elapsed, before each one +resigned her occupation, with a murmur at the darkness of the weather; +and, though some persons suggested that there were such things as lamps +and candles, it was agreed to be a pity to have lights so early in the +midst of summer, and so another half hour escaped.</p> + +<p>The lights, when they came, would have failed to relumine an expectation +in my bosom, had not their beams disclosed the forms of various books, +which one and another had brought in for the evening's amusement. Again +I watched and again I listened. "I wish I had something to do, mam<span class='pagenum'>[82]<a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a></span>ma," +said the little girl. "Why do you not take a book, and read?" rejoined +her mother. "My books are all up stairs," she replied; "and it is so +near bedtime, it is not worth while to bring them down." "This is the +best novel I ever read," said a lady, somewhat older, turning the leaves +over so very fast, that those who are not used to this manner of +reading, might suppose she found nothing in it worthy of attention. "I +dare say it is," said another, whose eyes had been fixed for half an +hour on the same page of Wordsworth's Poems; "but I have no time to read +novels." "I wish I had time to read any thing," said a third, whom I had +observed already to have been perusing attentively the title-page of +every book on the table, publisher's name, date, and all; while a fourth +was too intensely engaged in studying the blue cover of a magazine, to +make any remark whatever.</p> + +<p>And now I was much amused to perceive with what frequency eyes were +turned upon the dial-plate, through all the day so little regarded. +Watches were drawn out, compared, and pronounced too slow. With some +difficulty, one was found that had outrun its fellows, and, determined +to be right, gave permission to the company to disperse, little more +than twelve hours from the time of their assembling, to recover, as I +supposed, during the other twelve, dressing and undressing included, the +effect of their mental and bodily exertions.</p> + +<p>"So!" I exclaimed, as soon as I found myself <span class='pagenum'>[83]<a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a></span>alone, "twelve times round +yonder dial-plate those little hands have stolen, and twelve times more +they may now go round unheeded. They who are gone to rest, have a day +less to live, and record has been made in heaven of that day's use. Will +He who gave, ask no reckoning for his gifts? The time, the thoughts, the +talents; the improvement we might have made, and made not; the good we +might have done, and did not; the health, and strength, and intellect, +that may not be our's to-morrow, and have not been used to-day; will not +conscience whisper of it ere they sleep to-night? The days of man were +shortened upon earth by reason of the wickedness the Creator saw. +Threescore years and ten are now his portion, and often not half the +number. They pause not; they loiter not: the hours strike on, and they +may even go, for it seems they are all too much."</p> + +<p>The young, with minds as yet unstored, full of error, full of ignorance +in all that it behooves them most to know, unfit alike as yet for earth +or heaven—the old, whose sum of life is almost told, and but a brief +space remaining to repair their mistakes and redeem the time they have +lost—the simple and ungifted, who, having from nature but little, need +the more assiduity to fulfill their measure of usefulness, and make that +little do the most it may—the clever and highly talented, who have an +almost appalling account to render for the much received—they all have +time to waste. But let them remember, time is not their own; not a +moment of it; but is the grant of Heaven; and<span class='pagenum'>[84]<a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a></span> Heaven gives nothing +without a purpose and an end. Every hour that is wasted, fails of that +purpose; and in so far as it is wasted or ill-spent, the gift of Heaven +is misused, and the misuse is to be answered for. Methinks I would be +allowed to whisper nightly in the ears of my young friends as they lie +down to rest, "How many minutes have you lost to-day, that might have +been employed in your own improvement, in our Maker's service, or for +your fellow-creature's good?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img18.jpg" width="112" height="278" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[85]<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="NOVEL-READING" id="NOVEL-READING"></a>NOVEL-READING.</h2> + + +<p>Novel-reading produces a morbid appetite for excitement. The object of +the novelist, generally, is to produce the highest possible degree of +excitement, both of the mind and the passions. The object is very +similar to that of intoxicating liquors on the body: hence, the +confirmed novel-reader becomes a kind of <i>literary inebriate</i>, to whom +the things of <i>entity</i> have no attractions, and whose thirst cannot be +slaked, even with the water of life. And as intoxication enfeebles the +body, and engenders indolent habits, so this unnatural stimulus +enfeebles the intellectual powers, induces mental indolence, and unfits +the mind for vigorous efforts. Nothing less stimulating than its +accustomed aliment can rouse such a mind to action, or call forth its +energies; and then, being under the influence of mental intoxication, +which dethrones reason and destroys the power of self-control, they are +always misdirected.</p> + +<p>It also promotes a sickly sensibility. Dr. Brigham, speaking of the too +powerful excitement of the female mind, says: "In them the nervous +system naturally predominates. They are endowed <span class='pagenum'>[86]<a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a></span>with quicker +sensibility and far more active imagination than men. Their emotions are +more intense, and their senses alive to more delicate impressions. They +therefore require great attention, lest this exquisite +sensibility—which, when properly and naturally developed, constitutes +the greatest excellence of woman—should either become excessive by too +strong excitement, or suppressed by misdirected education." +Novel-reading produces just the kind of excitement calculated to develop +this excessive and diseased sensibility; and the effect is, to fill the +mind with imaginary fears, and produce excessive alarm and agitation at +the prospect of danger, the sight of distress, or the presence of +unpleasant objects; while no place is found for the exercise of genuine +sympathy for real objects of compassion. That sensibility which weeps +over imaginary woes of imaginary beings, calls forth but imaginary +sympathy. It is too refined to be excited by the <i>vulgar</i> objects of +compassion presented in real life, or too excitable to be of any avail +in the relief of real distress. It may faint at the sight of blood, but +it will shrink back from binding up the wound. If you wish to become +weak-headed, nervous, and good for nothing, read novels. I have seen an +account of a young lady, who had become so nervous and excitable, in +consequence of reading novels, that her head would be turned by the +least appearance of danger, real or imaginary. As she was riding in a +carriage over a bridge, in company with her mother and sister, she +became frightened at some <span class='pagenum'>[87]<a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a></span>fancied danger, caught hold of the reins, and +backed the carriage off the bridge, down a precipice, dashing them to +pieces.</p> + +<p>This excessive sensibility renders its possessor exquisitely alive to +all those influences which are unfriendly to human happiness, while it +diminishes the power of endurance. Extreme sensibility, especially in a +female, is a great misfortune, rendering the ills of life insupportable. +Great care should therefore be taken that, while genuine sensibility is +cherished, its extremes should be avoided, and the mind fortified by +strengthening the higher powers.</p> + +<p>Novel-reading strengthens the passions, weakens the virtues, and +diminishes the power of self-control. Multitudes may date their ruin +from the commencement of this kind of reading; and many more, who have +been rescued from the snare, will regret, to the end of their days, its +influence in the early formation of their character.</p> + +<p>It is, too, a great waste of time. Few will pretend that they read +novels with any higher end in view than <i>mere amusement</i>; while, by the +strong excitement they produce, they impose a heavier tax on both mind +and body than any other species of mental effort. If any thing valuable +is to be derived from them, it can be obtained with far less expense of +time, and with safety to the morals, from other sources. No Christian, +who feels the obligation of "redeeming the time, because the days are +evil," will fail to feel the force of this remark. We have no more right +to squander our <span class='pagenum'>[88]<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a></span>time and waste our energies in frivolous pursuits, than +we have to waste our money in extravagant expenditures. We are as much +the stewards of God in respect to the one as the other.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/img19.jpg" width="150" height="272" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[89]<a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="FEMALE_ROMANCE" id="FEMALE_ROMANCE"></a>FEMALE ROMANCE.</h2> + + +<p>Most women are inclined to be romantic. This tendency is not confined to +the young or to the beautiful, to the intellectual or to the refined. +Every woman, capable of strong feeling, is susceptible of romance; and, +though its degree may depend on external circumstances, or education, or +station, or excitement, it generally exists, and requires only a +stimulus for its development.</p> + +<p>Romance indeed contributes much to the charm of the female character. +Without some degree of it, no woman can be interesting; and, though its +excess is a weakness, and one which receives but little indulgence, +there is nothing truly generous and disinterested which does not imply +its existence. It is that poetry of sentiment which imparts to character +or incident something of the beautiful or the sublime; which elevates us +to a higher sphere; which gives an ardor to affection, a life to +thought, a glow to imagination; and which lends so warm and sunny a hue +to the portraiture of life, that it ceases to appear the vulgar, and +cold, and dull, and monotonous reality, which common sense alone would +make it.</p> + +<p>But it is this opposition, between romance and <span class='pagenum'>[90]<a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a></span>sobriety, that excites +so strong a prejudice against the former: it is associated, in the minds +of many, with folly alone. A romantic, silly girl, is the object of +their contempt; and they so recoil from this personification of +sentiment, that their chief object seems to be to divest themselves +altogether of its delusion. Life is to them a mere calculation; +expediency is their maxim; propriety their rule; profit, ease, or +comfort their aim; and they have at least this advantage, that while +minds of higher tone and hearts of superior sensibility are often +harassed and wounded, and even withered, in their passage through life, +they proceed in their less adventurous career, neither chilled by the +coldness, nor sickened by the meanness, nor disappointed by the +selfishness of the world. They virtually admit, though they often +theoretically deny, the baseness of human nature; and, strangers to +disinterestedness themselves, they do not expect to meet with it in +others. They are content with a low degree of enjoyment, and are thus +exempted from much poignant suffering; and it is only when the +casualties of life interfere with their individual ease, that we can +perceive that they are not altogether insensible.</p> + +<p>A good deal of this phlegmatic disposition exists in many who are +capable of higher feeling. Such persons are so afraid of sensibility, +that they repress in themselves every thing that savors of it; and, +though we may occasionally detect it in the mounting flush, or in the +glistening tear, or in the half-stifled sigh, it is in vain that we +endeavor to <span class='pagenum'>[91]<a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></span>elicit any more explicit avowal. They are ashamed even of +what they do betray; and one would imagine that the imputation of +sensibility were almost a reflection on their character. They must not +feel, or, at least, they must not allow that they feel; for feeling has +led so many persons wrong, that decorum can be preserved, they think, +only by indifference. And they end in being really as callous as they +wish to appear, and stifle emotion so successfully, that at length it +ceases to give them uneasiness.</p> + +<p>Such is often the case with many who pass through life with great +decorum; and though women have naturally more sensibility than the other +sex, they, too, sometimes consider its indulgence altogether wrong. Yet, +if its excess is foolish, it is surely a mistake to attempt to suppress +it altogether; for such attempt will either produce a dangerous +revulsion, or, if successful, will spoil the character. One would rather +almost that a woman were ever so romantic, than that she always thought, +and felt, and spoke by rule; and should deem it preferable that her +sensibility brought upon her occasional distress, than that she always +calculated the degree of her feeling.</p> + +<p>Life has its romance, and to this it owes much of its charm. It is not +that every woman is a heroine and every individual history a novel; but +there are scenes and incidents in real life so peculiar, and so poetic, +that we need not be indebted to fiction for the development of romance. +Christians will trace such scenes and incidents immediately <span class='pagenum'>[92]<a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a></span>to +Providence, and they do so with affectionate and confiding hearts; and +the more affecting or remarkable these may be, the more clearly do they +recognize the Divine interference. They regard them as remembrances of +Heaven, to recall to them their connection with it, and remind them that +whatever there may be to interest or excite their feelings here, there +is infinitely more to affect and warm their hearts in the glorious +prospects beyond.</p> + +<p>It is natural that women should be very susceptible to such impressions; +that they should view life with almost a poetic eye; and that they +should be peculiarly sensitive to its vicissitudes. And though a +Quixotic quest after adventures is as silly as it is vain, and to invest +every trifle with importance, or to see something marvelous in every +incident, is equally absurd; there is no reason why the imagination +should not grasp whatever is picturesque, and the mind dwell upon +whatever is impressive, and the heart warm with whatever is affecting, +in the changes and the chances of our pilgrimage. There is indeed a +great deal of what is mean and low in all that is connected with this +world; quite enough to sully the most glowing picture; but let us +sometimes view life with its golden tints; let us sometimes taste its +ambrosial dews; let us sometimes breathe its more ethereal atmosphere; +and let us do so, not as satisfied with any thing it can afford—not as +entranced by any of its illusions—but as those who catch, even in this +dull mirror, a shadowy <span class='pagenum'>[93]<a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a></span>delineation of a brighter world, and who pant +for what is pure, celestial, and eternal. This is surely better than +clipping the wings of imagination, or restraining the impulses of +feeling, or reducing all our joys and sorrows to mere matters of +calculation or of sense.</p> + +<p>They are indeed to be pitied who are in the opposite extreme—whose +happiness or misery is entirely ideal; but we have within us such a +capacity for both, independent of all outward circumstances, and such a +power of extracting either from every circumstance, that it is surely +more wise to discipline such a faculty, than to disallow its influence.</p> + +<p>Youth is of course the season for romance. Its buoyant spirit must soar +till weighed down by earthly care. It is in youth that the feelings are +warm and the fancy fresh, and that there has been no blight to chill the +one or to wither the other. And it is in youth that hope lends its +cheering ray, and love its genial influence; that our friends smile upon +us, our companions do not cross us, and our parents are still at hand to +cherish us in their bosoms, and sympathize in all our young and ardent +feelings. It is then that the world seems so fair, and our fellow-beings +so kind, that we charge with spleen any who would prepare us for +disappointment, and accuse those of misanthropy who would warn our +too-confiding hearts. And though, in maturer life, we may smile at the +romance of youth, and lament, perhaps, its aberrations, yet we shall not +regret the <span class='pagenum'>[94]<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></span>depth of our young emotions, the disinterestedness of our +young affections, and that enthusiasm of purpose, which, alas! we soon +grow too wise to cherish.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/img20.jpg" width="300" height="309" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[95]<a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="BEHAVIOR_TO_GENTLEMEN" id="BEHAVIOR_TO_GENTLEMEN"></a>BEHAVIOR TO GENTLEMEN.</h2> + + +<p>What a pity it is that the thousandth chance of a gentleman's becoming +your lover should deprive you of the pleasure of a free, unembarrassed, +intellectual intercourse with all the single men of your acquaintance! +Yet, such is too commonly the case with young ladies who have read a +great many novels and romances, and whose heads are always running on +love and lovers.</p> + +<p>Where, as in this country, there is a fair chance of every woman's being +married who wishes it, the more things are left to their natural course +the better. Where girls are brought up to be good daughters and sisters, +to consider the development of their own intellectual and moral natures +as the great business of life, and to view matrimony as a good, only +when it comes unsought, and marked by such a fitness of things, inward +and outward, as shows it to be one of the appointments of God, they will +fully enjoy their years of single life, free from all anxiety about +being established, and will generally be the first sought in marriage by +the wise and good of the other sex; whereas those who are brought up to +think the great business of life is to get married, and who spend their +lives in plans and manœuvres to bring <span class='pagenum'>[96]<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a></span>it about, are the very ones +who remain single, or, what is worse, make unhappy matches.</p> + +<p>Very young girls are apt to suppose, from what they observe in older +ones, that there is some peculiar manner to be put on in talking to +gentlemen, and not knowing exactly what it is, they are embarrassed and +reserved; others observe certain airs and looks, used by their elders in +this intercourse, and try to imitate them as a necessary part of company +behavior, and so become affected, and lose that first of +charms—simplicity, naturalness. To such I would say, your companions +are in error; it requires no peculiar manner, nothing to be put on, in +order to converse with gentlemen any more than with ladies; and the more +pure and elevated your sentiments are, and the better cultivated your +intellect is, the easier will you find it to converse pleasantly with +all. If, however, you happen to have no facility in expressing yourself, +and you find it very difficult to converse with persons whom you do not +know well, you can still be an intelligent and agreeable listener, and +you can show by your ready smile of sympathy that you would be sociable +if you could. There is no reason in the world why any one, who is not +unhappy, should sit in the midst of gay companions with a face so solemn +and unmoved, that she should seem not to belong to the company; that she +should look so glum and forbidding that strangers should feel repulsed, +and her best friends disappointed. If you cannot look entertained and +pleasant, you <span class='pagenum'>[97]<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a></span>had better stay away, for politeness requires some +expression of sympathy in the countenance, as much as a civil answer on +the tongue.</p> + +<p>Never condescend to use any little arts or manœuvres to secure a +pleasant beau at a party, or during an excursion; remember that a woman +must always wait to be chosen, and "not unsought be won," even for an +hour. When you are so fortunate as to be attended by the most agreeable +gentleman present, do not make any effort to keep him entirely to +yourself; that flatters him too much, and exposes you to be joked about.</p> + +<p>How strange a thing it is, in the constitution of English and American +society, that the subject, of all others the most important and the most +delicate, should be that on which every body is most given to joke and +banter their friends! Much mischief has been done by this coarse +interference of the world, in what ought to be the most private and +sacred of our earthly concerns; and every refined, delicate, and +high-minded girl should set her face against it, and, by scrupulously +refraining from such jokes herself, give no one a right to indulge in +them at her expense.</p> + +<p>As soon as young ladies go into general society, they are liable to +receive attentions that indicate a particular regard, and, long before +they are really old enough to form any such ties, they often receive +matrimonial overtures; it is therefore highly necessary to know how to +treat them. The offer of a man's heart and hand is the greatest +compliment he can pay you, and, however undesirable <span class='pagenum'>[98]<a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a></span>to you those gifts +may be, they should be courteously and kindly declined; and since a +refusal is, to most men, not only a disappointment, but a mortification, +it should always be prevented, if possible. Men have various ways of +cherishing and declaring their attachment; those who indicate the bias +of their feelings in many intelligible ways, before they make a direct +offer, can generally be spared the pain of a refusal. If you do not mean +to accept a gentleman who is paying you very marked attentions, you +should avoid receiving him whenever you can; you should not allow him to +escort you; you should show your displeasure when joked about him; and, +if sounded by a mutual friend, let your want of reciprocal feelings be +very apparent.</p> + +<p>You may, however, be taken entirely by surprise, because there are men +who are so secret in these matters that they do not let even the object +of their affections suspect their preference, until they suddenly +declare themselves lovers and suitors. In such a case as that, you will +need all your presence of mind, or the hesitation produced by surprise +may give rise to false hopes. If you have any doubt upon the matter, you +may fairly ask time to consider of it, on the grounds of your never +having thought of the gentleman in the light of a lover before; but, if +you are resolved against the suit, endeavor to make your answer so +decided as to finish the affair at once. Inexperienced girls sometimes +feel so much the pain they are inflicting, that they use phrases which +feed <span class='pagenum'>[99]<a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></span>a lover's hopes; but this is mistaken tenderness; your answer +should be as decided as it is courteous.</p> + +<p>Whenever an offer is made in writing, you should reply to it as soon as +possible; and, having in this case none of the embarrassment of a +personal interview, you can make such a careful selection of words as +will best convey your meaning. If the person is estimable, you should +express your sense of his merit, and your gratitude for his preference, +in strong terms; and put your refusal of his hand on the score of your +not feeling for him that peculiar preference necessary to the union he +seeks. This makes a refusal as little painful as possible, and soothes +the feelings you are obliged to wound. The gentleman's letter should be +returned in your reply, and your lips should be closed upon the subject +for ever afterwards. It is his secret, and you have no right to tell it +to any one; but, if your parents are your confidential friends on all +other occasions, he will not blame you for telling them.</p> + +<p>Never think the less of a man because he has been refused, even if it be +by a lady whom you do not highly value. It is nothing to his +disadvantage. In exercising their prerogative of making the first +advances, the wisest will occasionally make great mistakes, and the best +will often be drawn into an affair of this sort against their better +judgment, and both are but too happy if they escape with only the pain +of being refused. So far from its being any reason for not accepting a +wise and <span class='pagenum'>[100]<a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a></span>good man when he offers himself to you, it should only +increase your thankfulness to the overruling providence of God, which +reserved him for you, through whose instrumentality he is still free to +choose.</p> + +<p>There is no sure remedy for disappointed affection but vital religion; +that giving of the heart to God which enables a disciple to say, "Whom +have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none on earth that I desire in +comparison of Thee." The cure for a wounded heart, which piety affords, +is so complete, that it makes it possible for the tenderest and most +constant natures to love again. When a character is thus disciplined and +matured, its sympathies will be called forth only by superior minds; +and, if a kindred spirit presents itself as a partner for life, and is +accepted, the union is likely to be such as to make the lady rejoice +that her former predilection was overruled.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img21.jpg" width="112" height="243" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[101]<a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="MARRIAGE" id="MARRIAGE"></a>MARRIAGE.</h2> + + +<p>Some young persons indulge a fastidiousness of feeling in relation to +this subject, as though it were indelicate to speak of it. Others make +it the principal subject of their thoughts and conversation; yet they +seem to think it must never be mentioned but in jest. Both these +extremes should be avoided. Marriage is an ordinance of God, and +therefore a proper subject of thought and discussion, with reference to +personal duty. It is a matter of great importance, having a direct +bearing upon the glory of God and the happiness of individuals. It +should, therefore, never be approached with levity. But, as it requires +no more attention than what is necessary in order to understand present +duty, it would be foolish to make it a subject of constant thought, and +silly to make it a common topic of conversation. It is a matter which +should be weighed deliberately and seriously by every young person. It +was ordained by the Lord at the creation, as suited to the state of man +as a social being, and necessary to the design for which he was created. +There is a sweetness and comfort in the bosom of one's own family which +can be enjoyed no where else. In early life this is supplied by our +youthful companions, who feel in <span class='pagenum'>[102]<a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a></span>unison with us. But as a person who +remains single, advances in life, the friends of his youth form new +attachments, in which he is incapable of participating. Their feelings +undergo a change, of which he knows nothing. He is gradually left alone. +No heart beats in unison with his own. His social feelings wither for +want of an object. As he feels not in unison with those around him, his +habits also become peculiar, and perhaps repulsive, so that his company +is not desired; hence arises the whimsical attachments of such persons +to domestic animals, or to other objects that can be enjoyed in +solitude. As the dreary winter of age advances, the solitude of this +condition becomes still more chilling. Nothing but that sweet +resignation to the will of God, which religion gives, under all +circumstances, can render such a situation tolerable. But religion does +not annihilate the social affections; it only regulates them. It is +evident, then, by a lawful and proper exercise of these affections, both +our happiness and usefulness may be greatly increased.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, do not consider marriage as <i>absolutely essential</i>. +Although it is an ordinance of God, yet he has not absolutely enjoined +it upon all. You <i>may</i>, therefore, be in the way of duty while +neglecting it. And the apostle Paul intimates that there may be, with +those who enter this state, a greater tendency of heart toward earthly +objects. There is also an increase of care. "The unmarried woman careth +for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy, both in body and +<span class='pagenum'>[103]<a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a></span>spirit; but she that is married, careth for the things of the world, +how she may please her husband." But much more has been made of this +than the apostle intended. It has been greatly perverted and abused by +the church of Rome. It must be observed that, in the same chapter, he +advises that "every man have his own wife and every woman her own +husband." And, whatever may be our condition in life, if we seek it with +earnestness and perseverance, God will give us grace sufficient for the +day. But, he says, though it is no sin to marry, nevertheless, "such +shall have trouble in the flesh." It is undoubtedly true that the +enjoyments of conjugal life have their corresponding difficulties and +trials; and if these are enhanced by an unhappy connection, the +situation is insufferable. For this reason, I would have you avoid the +conclusion that marriage is indispensable to happiness. Single life is +certainly to be preferred to a connection with a person who will +diminish instead of increase your happiness. However, the remark of the +apostle, "such shall have trouble in the flesh," doubtless had reference +chiefly to the peculiar troubles of the times, when Christians were +exposed to persecutions, the loss of goods, and even of life itself, for +Christ's sake; the trials of which would be much greater in married than +in single life.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/img22.jpg" width="225" height="48" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[104]<a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="MARRIAGE_HYMN" id="MARRIAGE_HYMN"></a>MARRIAGE HYMN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for the summer hour alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When skies resplendent shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And youth and pleasure fill the throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hearts and hands we join;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But for those stern and wintry days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sorrow, pain, and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Heaven's wise discipline doth make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our earthly journey drear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for this span of life alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which like a blast doth fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as the transient flower of grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just blossom—droop, and die;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But for a being without end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This vow of love we take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grant us, O God! one home at last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For our Redeemer's sake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 225px;"> +<img src="images/img23.jpg" width="225" height="30" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[105]<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="FEMALE_INFLUENCE" id="FEMALE_INFLUENCE"></a>FEMALE INFLUENCE.</h2> + + +<p>Writers of fiction have not unfrequently selected this topic as the +theme for poetry and romance; they have extolled woman as the being +whose eloquence was to soften all the asperities of man, and polish the +naturally rugged surface of his character; charming away his sternness +by her grace; refining his coarseness by her elegance and purity; and +offering in her smiles a reward sufficient to compensate for the hazards +of any enterprise. But while the self-complacency and vanity of many of +our sex have been nourished by such idle praise, how few have been +awakened to a just sense of the deep responsibility which rests upon us, +for the faithful improvement of this talent, and our consequent +accountability for its neglect or perversion!</p> + +<p>It were not a little amusing, if it were not so melancholy, to listen to +the reasoning employed by many ladies, in evading any charges of +non-improvement of this trust. She who perhaps but a moment before may +have listened with the utmost self-complacency to the flattering strains +of the poet, who had invested her sex with every charm calculated to +render them ministering angels to ruder and sterner man, no sooner finds +herself <span class='pagenum'>[106]<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a></span>addressed as the possessor of a talent, implying +responsibility, and imposing self-exertion and self-denial in its +exercise, than she instantly disclaims, with capricious diffidence, all +pretensions to influence over others. But we cannot avert accountability +by disclaiming its existence; neither will the disavowal of the +possession of a talent alter the constitution of our nature, which God +has so formed and so fitted to produce impressions in, and receive them +from, kindred minds, that it is impossible for us to <i>exist</i> without +exerting a continual and daily influence over others; either of a +pernicious or salutary character.</p> + +<p>"Woman," to use the words of an accomplished living writer, "has been +sent on a higher mission than man; it may be a more arduous, a more +difficult one. It is to manifest and bring to a full development certain +attributes which belong, it is true, to our common nature, but which, +owing to man's peculiar relation to the external world, he could not so +well bring to perfection. Man is sent forth to subdue the earth, to +obtain command over the elements, to form political communities; and to +him, therefore, belong the more hardy and austere virtues; and as they +are made subservient to the relief of our physical wants, and as their +results are more obvious to the senses, it is not surprising that they +have acquired in his eyes an importance which does not in strictness +belong to them. But humility, meekness, gentleness, love, are also +important attributes of our nature, and it would present a sad and +melancholy aspect with<span class='pagenum'>[107]<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></span>out them. But let us ask, will man, with his +present characteristic propensities, thrown much more than woman, by his +immediate duties, upon material things; obliged to be conversant with +objects of sense, and exposed to the rude conflicts which this leads to; +will he bring out these virtues in their <i>full</i> beauty and strength? We +think not—even with the assistance which religion promises. These +principles, with many others linked with them, have been placed more +particularly in the keeping of woman; her social condition being +evidently more favorable to their full development."</p> + +<p>Let us ever remember that every aggregate number, however great, is +composed of units; and of course, were <i>each</i> American female but +faithful to her God, to her family, and to her country, then would a +mighty, sanctified influence go forth through the wide extent of our +beloved land, diffusing moral health and vigor through every part, and +strengthening it for the endurance of greater trials than have as yet +menaced its existence. A spirit of insubordination and rebellion to +lawful authority pervades our land; and where are these foes effectually +to be checked, if not at their fountain head—in the nursery? Oh! if +every American mother had but labored faithfully in that sacred +inclosure, from the period of our revolutionary struggle, by teaching +her children the great lesson of practical obedience to parental +authority; then would submission to constituted authority, as well as to +the will of God, have been far more prevalent in our land, and the +<span class='pagenum'>[108]<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a></span>whole aspect of her affairs would have been widely different.</p> + +<p>How much more honorable to woman is such a position, than that in which +some modern reformers have endeavored to place her, or rather <i>force</i> +her. Instead of seeking hopelessly, and in direct opposition to the +delicacy of her sex, to obtain for her political privileges; instead of +bringing her forward as the competitor of man in the public arena; we +would mark out for her a sphere of duty that is widely different. In the +domestic circle, "her station should be at man's side, to comfort, to +encourage, to assist;" while, in the Christian temple, we would assign +her an ennobling, but a feminine part,—to be the guardian of the sacred +and spiritual fire, which is ever to be kept alive in its purity and +brilliancy on the altar of God. She should be the vestal virgin in the +Christian temple—the priestess, as it were, of a shrine more hallowed +and honorable than that of Delphos.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img24.jpg" width="112" height="153" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[109]<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="A_DIFFICULT_QUESTION" id="A_DIFFICULT_QUESTION"></a>A DIFFICULT QUESTION.</h2> + + +<p>I remember, many years ago, to have occupied the corner of a +window-seat, in a small but very elegant house in Montague-square, +during a morning visit—more interesting than such visits usually are, +because there was something to talk about. The ladies who met, had each +a child, I believe an only girl, just of the age when mothers begin to +ask every body, and tell every body, how their children are to be +educated. The daughter of the house, the little Jemima, was sitting by +my side; a delicate little creature, with something very remarkable in +her expression. The broad projecting brow seemed too heavy for its +underwork; and by its depression, gave a look of sadness to the +countenance, till excited animation raised the eye, beaming vivacity and +strength. The sallow paleness of the complexion was so entirely in +unison with the features, and the stiff dark locks which surrounded +them, it was difficult to say whether it was, or was not, improved by +the color that came and went every time she was looked at or spoken of. +I was, on this occasion, a very attentive listener: for, being not yet a +woman, it was very essential to me to learn what sort of a one I had +better be; and many, indeed, were <span class='pagenum'>[110]<a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a></span>my counter-resolutions, as the +following debate proceeded:</p> + +<p>"You are going to send your daughter to school I hear?" said Mrs. A., +after some discourse of other matters.</p> + +<p>Mrs. W. replied, "Really, I have not quite determined; I scarcely know +what to do for the best. I am only anxious that she should grow up like +other girls; for of all things in the world, I have the greatest horror +of a woman of talent. I had never thought to part from her, and am still +averse to sending her from home; but she is so excessively fond of +books, I can get her to do nothing else but learn; she is as grave and +sensible as a little woman. I think, if she were among other girls, she +would perhaps get fond of play, and be more like a child. I wish her to +grow up a quiet, domestic girl, and not too fond of learning. I mean her +to be accomplished; but, at present, I cannot make her distinguish one +tune from another."</p> + +<p>Mrs. A. answered, "Indeed! we differ much in this respect. I am +determined to make Fanny a superior woman, whatever it may cost me. Her +father is of the same mind; he has a perfect horror of silly, +empty-headed women; all our family are literary; Fanny will have little +fortune, but we can afford to give her every advantage in her education, +the best portion we can leave her. I would rather see her distinguished +for talents, than for birth or riches. We have acted upon this intention +from her birth. She already reads <span class='pagenum'>[111]<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a></span>well, but I am sorry to say she hates +it, and never will open a book unless she is obliged; she shows no taste +for any thing but making doll's clothes and spinning a top."</p> + +<p>At this moment a hearty laugh from little Fanny, who had set herself to +play behind the curtain, drew my attention towards her. She was twice as +big as my companion on the window-seat, though but a few months older; +her broad, flat face, showed like the moon in its zenith, set in thin, +silky hair: and with eyes as pretty as they could be, expressing neither +thought nor feeling, but abundance of mirth and good-humor. The coloring +of her cheek was beautiful; but one wished it gone sometimes, were it +only for the pleasure of seeing it come again. The increasing +seriousness of the conversation recalled my attention.</p> + +<p>"I am surprised," Mrs. W. was saying, "at your wishes on the subject. I +am persuaded a woman of great talent is neither so happy, so useful, nor +so much beloved, as one or more ordinary powers."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know why you think this," rejoined her friend; "it +appears to me she should be much more so."</p> + +<p>"My view of it is this," Mrs. W. replied: "a woman's sphere of +usefulness, of happiness, and of affection, is a domestic circle; and +even beyond it, all her task of life is to please and to be useful."</p> + +<p>"In this we are quite agreed," said Mrs. A.; "but, since we are well set +for an argument, let us <span class='pagenum'>[112]<a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a></span>have a little method in it. You would have your +child useful, happy, and beloved, and so would I; but you think the +means to this end, is to leave her mind uncultivated, narrow, and empty, +and consequently weak."</p> + +<p>"This, is not my meaning," replied Mrs. W.; "there are many steps +between stupidity and talent, ignorance and learning. I will suppose my +child what I wish her to be, about as much taught as women in general, +who are esteemed clever, well-mannered, and well-accomplished. I think +it is all that can contribute to her happiness. If her mind is occupied, +as you will say, with little things, those little things are sufficient +to its enjoyment, and much more likely to be within her reach than the +greater matters that fill greater minds. My less accomplished character +will enjoy herself where your superior woman would go to sleep, or +hopelessly wish she might. In short, she will find fellowship and +reciprocation in every little mind she meets with, while yours is left +to pine in the solitude of her own greatness."</p> + +<p>At the close of this speech, I felt quite determined that I would not be +such a woman.</p> + +<p>Mrs. A. rejoined, "You have left my genius in a doleful condition, +though I question whether you will persuade her to come down. I will +admit, however, for I am afraid I must, that the woman of talent is less +likely to find reciprocation, or to receive enjoyment from ordinary +people and ordinary circumstances; but then she is like the camel that +traverses the desert safely where others <span class='pagenum'>[113]<a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a></span>perish, because it carries its +sustenance in its own bosom. I never remember to have heard a really +sensible and cultivated woman complain of <i>ennui</i>, under any +circumstances—no small balance on the side of enjoyment positive, is +misery escaped. But, to leave jesting, admitting that the woman of more +elevated mind derives less pleasure from the adventitious circumstances +that surround her, from what money can purchase, and a tranquil mind +enjoy, and activity gather, of the passing flowers of life—she has +enjoyments, independent of them, in the treasures of her own intellect. +Where she finds reciprocation, it is a delight of which the measure +compensates the rareness; and where she finds nothing else to enjoy, she +can herself. And when the peopled walks of life become a wilderness; and +the assiduities of friendship rest unclaimed; and sensible +gratifications are withered before the blight of poverty; and the foot +is too weary, and the eye is too dim, to go after what no one remembers +to bring; still are her resources untouched. Poverty cannot diminish her +revenue, or friendlessness leave her unaccompanied, or privation of +every external incitement consign her to the void of unoccupied powers. +She will traverse the desert, for her store is with her; and if, as you +have suggested, she be doomed to supply others what no one pays her +back, there is One who has said, 'It is more blessed to give than to +receive.'"</p> + +<p>At this point of the discussion, I made up my mind to be a very sensible +woman.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[114]<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. W. resumed: "You will allow, of course, that selfish enjoyment is +not the object of existence; and I think, on the score of usefulness, I +shall carry my poor, dependent house-wife, far above yours. And for this +very reason: The duties which Providence has assigned to woman, do not +require extraordinary intellect. She can manage her husband's household, +and economize his substance; and if she cannot entertain his friends +with her talents, she can at least give them a welcome; and be his nurse +in sickness, and his watchful companion in health, if not capable of +sharing his more intellectual occupations. She can be the support and +comfort of her parents in the decline of life, or of her children in +their helplessness, according as her situation may be. And out of her +house she may be the benefactress and example of a whole neighborhood; +she may comfort the afflicted, and clothe and feed the poor, and visit +the sick, and advise the ignorant; while, by the domestic industry, and +peaceful, unaspiring habits, with which she plods, as you may please to +call it, through the duties of her station, whether higher or lower, she +is a perpetual example to those beneath her, to like sober assiduity in +their own, and to her children's children to follow in the path in which +she leads them. She may be superintending the household occupations, or +actually performing them; giving employment by her wealth to others' +ingenuity, or supplying the want of it by her own, according as her +station is, but still she will make many happy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[115]<a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a></span></p> + +<p>"I am not so prejudiced as to say that your woman of talent will refuse +these duties; of course, if she have principle, she will not. But +literary pursuits must at least divide her attention, if not unfit her +altogether for the tasks the order of Providence has assigned her; she +will distaste such duties, if she does not refuse them; while the +distance at which her attainments place her from ordinary minds, forbid +all attempts to imitate or follow her."</p> + +<p>"You have drawn a picture," answered Mrs. A., "which would convert half +the world, if they were not of your mind already, as I believe they are. +It is a picture so beautiful, I would not blot it with the shadow of my +finger. I concede that talent is not necessary to usefulness, and a +woman may fulfill every duty of her station without it. But our question +is of comparative usefulness; and there I have something to say. It is +an axiom that knowledge is power; and, if it is, the greater the +knowledge, the greater should be the power of doing good. To men, +superior intelligence gives power to dispose, control, and govern the +fortunes of others. To women, it gives influence over their minds. The +greater knowledge which she has acquired of the human heart, gives her +access to it in all its subtleties; while her acknowledged superiority +secures that deference to her counsels, which weakness ever pays to +strength.</p> + +<p>"If the circumstances of her condition require it, I believe the greater +will suffice the less, and she will fulfill equally well the duties you +have <span class='pagenum'>[116]<a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a></span>enumerated; shedding as bright a light upon her household, as if +it bounded her horizon. Nay, more, there may be minds in her household +that need the reciprocation of an equal mind, or the support of a +superior one; there may be spirits in her family that will receive from +the influence of intellect, what they would not from simple and good +intention. There may be other wants in her neighborhood than hunger and +nakedness, and other defaulters than the ignorant and the poor. Whether +she writes, speaks, or acts, the effect is not bounded by time, nor +limited by space. That is worth telling of her, and is repeated from +mouth to mouth, which, in an ordinary person, none would notice. Her +acknowledged superiority gives her a title, as well as a capacity to +speak, where others must be silent, and carry counsel and consolation +where commoner characters might not intrude.</p> + +<p>"The mass of human misery, and human need, and human corruption, is not +confined to the poor, the simple minded, and the child. The husband's +and the parent's cares are not confined to their external commodities, +nor the children's to the well-being of their physical estate. The mind +that could illumine its own solitude, can cheer another's destitution; +the strength that can support itself, can stay another's falling; the +wealth may be unlocked, and supply another's poverty. Those who in +prosperity seek amusement from superior talent, will seek it in +difficulty or advice, and in adversity for support."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[117]<a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a></span></p> + +<p>Here I made up my mind to have a great deal of intellect.</p> + +<p>"If I granted your position on the subject of utility," said Mrs. W., "I +am afraid I should prove the world very ungrateful by the remainder of +my argument; which goes, you know, to prove the woman of distinguished +talent less beloved than those who walk the ordinary paths of female +duty. I must take the risk, however; for, of all women in the world, +your women of genius are those I love the least; and I believe, just or +unjust, it is a very common feeling. We are not disposed to love our +superiors in any thing; but least of all, in intellect; one has always +the feeling of playing an equal game, without being sure that no +advantage will be taken of your simplicity. A woman who has the +reputation of talent, is, in this respect, the most unfortunate being on +earth. She stands in society, like a European before a horde of savages, +vainly endeavoring to signify his good intentions. If he approaches +them, they run away; if he recedes, they send their arrows after him. +Every one is afraid to address her, lest they expose to her penetration +their own deficiencies. If she talks, she is supposed to display her +powers; if she holds her tongue, it is attributed to contempt for the +company. I know that talent is often combined with every amiable +quality, and renders the character really the more lovely; but not +therefore the more beloved. It would, if known; but it seldom is known, +because seldom approached near enough to be examined.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[118]<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a></span></p> + +<p>"The simple-minded fear what they do not understand; the double-minded +envy what they cannot reach. For my good, simple housewife, every body +loves her who knows her; and nobody, who does not know her, troubles +themselves about her. But place a woman on an eminence, and every body +thinks they are obliged to like or dislike her; and, being too tenacious +to do the one without good reason, they do the other without any reason +at all. Before we can love each other, there must be sympathy, +assimilation, and, if not equality, at least such an approach to it as +may enable us to understand each other. When any one is much superior to +us, our humility shrinks from the proffers of her love, and our pride +revolts from offering her our own. Real talent is always modest, and +fears often to make advances towards affection, lest it should seem, in +doing so, to presume upon itself; but, having rarely the credit of +timidity, this caution is attributable to pride. Your superior woman, +therefore, will not be generally known or beloved by her own sex, among +whom she may have many admirers, but few equals.</p> + +<p>"I say nothing of marriage, because I am not speculating upon it for my +child, as upon the chances of a well-played game; but it is certain that +the greater number of men are not highly intellectual, and therefore +could not wisely choose a highly intellectual wife, lest they place +themselves in the condition in which a husband should not be—of mental +inferiority."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[119]<a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a></span></p> + +<p>"Mrs. W.," answered her friend, "I am aware this is your strongest post; +but I must not give ground without a battle. A great deal I shall yield +you. I shall give up quantity, and stand upon the value of the +remainder. Be it granted, then, that of any twenty people assembled in +society, every one of whom will pronounce your common-place woman to be +very amiable, very good, and very pleasing, ten shall pronounce my +friend too intellectual for their taste, eight shall find her not so +clever as they expected, and, of the other two, one at least shall not +be sure whether they like her or not. Be it granted that, of every five +ladies assembled to gossip freely, and tell out their small cares and +feelings to the sympathizing kindness of your friend, four shall become +silent as wax-work on the entrance of mine. And be it granted that, of +any ten gentlemen to whom yours would be a very proper wife, not more +than one could wisely propose himself to mine. But have I therefore lost +the field? Perhaps she would tell you no; the two in twenty, the one in +five or ten, are of more value, in her estimation, than all the number +else.</p> + +<p>"Things are not apt to be valued by their abundance. On the jeweler's +stall, many a brilliant trinket will disappear, ere the high-priced gem +be asked for; but is it, therefore, the less valued, or the less cared +for? When beloved at all, she is loved permanently; for, in the lapse of +time, that withers the charm of beauty, and blights the simplicity of +youth, her ornaments grow but the <span class='pagenum'>[120]<a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a></span>brighter for wearing. In proportion +to the depth of the intellect, I believe, is the depth of every thing; +feelings, affections, pleasures, pains, or whatever else the enlarged +capacity conceives. It is difficult perhaps for an inferior mind to +estimate what a superior mind enjoys in the reciprocation of affection. +Attachment, with ordinary persons, is enjoyed to-day, and regretted +to-morrow, and the next day replaced and forgotten; but with these it +never can be forgotten, because it can never be replaced."</p> + +<p>As the argument, thus terminated, converted neither party, it is +needless to say it left me in suspense. Mrs. W. was still determined her +child should not be a superior woman. Mrs. A. was still resolved her +child should be, at all ventures; and I was still undetermined whether I +would endeavor to be a learned woman or not. The little Fanny laughed +aloud, opened her large round eyes, and shouted, "So I will, mamma!" The +little Jemima colored to the ends of her fingers, and lowered still +farther the lashes that veiled her eyes.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;"> +<img src="images/img25.jpg" width="262" height="71" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[121]<a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="EASILY_DECIDED" id="EASILY_DECIDED"></a>EASILY DECIDED.</h2> + + +<p>I was walking with some friends in a retired part of the country. It had +rained for fourteen days before, and I believed it rained then; but +there was a belief among the ladies of that country that it is better to +walk in all weather. The lane was wide enough to pass in file, with +chilly droppings from the boughs above, and rude re-action of the briers +beneath. The clay upon our shoes showed a troublesome affinity to the +clay upon the road. Umbrellas we could not hold up because of the wind. +But it was better to walk than stay at home, so at least my companions +assured me, for exercise and an appetite. After pursuing them, with +hopeless assiduity, for more than a mile, without sight of egress or +sign of termination, finding I had already enough of the one, and +doubting how far the other might be off, I lagged behind, and began to +think how I might amuse myself till their return.</p> + +<p>By one of those fortunate incidents, which they tell me never happen to +any body but a listener, I heard the sound of voices over the hedge. +This was delightful. In this occupation I forgot both mud and rain, +exercise and appetite. The hedge was too thick to see through, and all +that appeared <span class='pagenum'>[122]<a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a></span>above it was a low chimney, from which I concluded it +concealed a cottage garden.</p> + +<p>"What in the name of wonder, James, can you be doing?" said a voice, +significant of neither youth nor gentleness.</p> + +<p>"I war'nt ye know what I am about," said another, more rudely than +unkindly.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure of that," rejoined the first; "you've been hacking and +hewing at them trees this four hours, and I do not see, for my part, as +you're like to mend them."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother," said the lad, "you see we have but two trees in all the +garden, and I've been thinking they'd match better if they were alike; +so I've tied up to a pole the boughs of the gooseberry-bush, that used +to spread themselves about the ground, to make it look more like this +thorn; and now I'm going to cut down the thorn to make it look more like +the gooseberry-bush."</p> + +<p>"And what's the good of that?" rejoined the mother; "has not the tree +sheltered us many a stormy night, when the wind would have beaten the +old casement about our ears? and many a scorching noon-tide, hasn't your +father eaten his dinner in its shade? And now, to be sure, because you +are the master, you think you can mend it!"</p> + +<p>"We shall see," said the youth, renewing his strokes. "It's no use as it +is; I dare say you'd like to see it bear gooseberries."</p> + +<p>"No use!" exclaimed the mother; "don't the birds go to roost on the +branches, and the poultry <span class='pagenum'>[123]<a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a></span>get shelter under it from the rain? and after +all your cutting, I don't see as you're likely to turn a thorn-tree into +a gooseberry-bush!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see why I should not," replied the sage artificer, with a tone +of reflectiveness; "the leaf is near about the same, and there are +thorns on both; if I make that taller and this shorter, and they grow +the same shape, I don't suppose you know why one should bear +gooseberries any more than the other, as wise as you are."</p> + +<p>"Why, to be sure, James," the old woman answered, in a moderate voice, +"I can't say that I do; but I have lived almost through my threescore +years and ten, and I have never heard of gooseberries growing on a +thorn."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you, though?" said James; "but then I have, or something pretty +much like it; for I saw the gardener, over yonder, cutting off the head +of a young pear-tree, and he told me he was going to make it bear +apples."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the mother, seemingly reconciled, "I know nothing of your +new-fangled ways. I only know it was the finest thorn in the parish; +but, to be sure, now they are more match-like and regular."</p> + +<p>I left a story half told. This may seem to be another, but it is in fact +the same. James, in the Sussex-lane, and my friends in Montague-square, +were engaged in the same task, and the result of the one would pretty +fairly measure the successes of the other; both were contravening the +order of nature, and pursuing their own purpose, <span class='pagenum'>[124]<a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a></span>without consulting the +appointments of Providence.</p> + +<p>Fanny was a girl of common understanding; such indeed as suitable +cultivation might have matured into simple good sense; but from which +her parents' scheme of education could produce nothing but pretension +that could not be supported, and an affectation of what could never be +attained. Conscious of the want of all perceptible talent in her child, +Mrs. A. from the first told the stories of talent opening late, and the +untimely blighting of premature intellect; and, to the last, maintained +the omnipotence of cultivation.</p> + +<p>On every new proof of the smallness of her mind, another science was +added to enlarge it. Languages, dead and living, were to be to her the +keys of knowledge; but they unlocked nothing to Fanny but their own +grammars and vocabularies, which she learned assiduously, without so +much as wondering what they meant. The more dull she proved, the more +earnestly she was plied. She was sent to school to try the spur of +emulation; and brought home again for the advantage of more exclusive +attention. And, as still the progress lagged, all feminine employ and +childlike recreations were prohibited, to gain more time for study. It +cannot be said that<a name="Fannnys" id="Fannnys"></a> Fannny's health was injured by the over action of +her mind; for, having none, it could not be easily acted upon; but, by +perpetual dronish application, and sacrifice of all external things for +the furtherance of this scheme of mental cultivation, her physical +ener<span class='pagenum'>[125]<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a></span>gies were suppressed, and she became heavy, awkward, and inactive.</p> + +<p>Fanny had no pleasure in reading, but she had a pride in having read; +and listened, with no small satisfaction, to her mother's detail of the +authors she was conversant with; beyond her age, and, as some untalented +ventured to suggest, not always suited to her years of innocence. The +arcana of their pages were safe, however, and quite guiltless of her +mind's corruption. Fanny never thought, whatever she might read; what +was in the book, was nothing to her; all her business was to <i>have</i> read +it. Meantime, while the powers he had not were solicited in vain, the +talents she had were neglected and suppressed. Her good-humored +enjoyment of ordinary things, her real taste for domestic arrangement, +and open simplicity of heart, were derided as vulgar and unintellectual. +Her talent for music was thought not worth cultivating; time could not +be spared. Some little capacity she had for drawing, as an imitative +art, was baffled by the determination to teach it her scientifically, +thus rendering it as impossible as every thing else. In short—for why +need I prolong my sketch?—Fanny was prepared by nature to be the <i>beau +ideal</i> of Mrs. W.'s amiable woman.</p> + +<p>Constitutionally active and benevolent, judicious culture might have +made her sensible, and, in common life, intelligent, pleasing, useful, +happy. Nay, I need only refer to the picture of my former paper, to say +what Fanny, well educated, was <span class='pagenum'>[126]<a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a></span>calculated to become. But this was what +her parents were determined she should not be; and they spent twenty +years, and no small amount of cash, to make her a woman of superior mind +and distinguished literary attainments.</p> + +<p>I saw the result; for I saw Fanny at twenty, the most unlovely, useless, +and unhappy being I ever met with. The very docility of a mind, not +strong enough to choose its own part, and resist the influence of +circumstances, hastened forward the catastrophe. She had learned to +think herself what she could not be, and to despise what in reality she +was; she could not otherwise than do so, for she had been imbued with it +from her cradle.</p> + +<p>She was accustomed from her infancy to intellectual society; kept up to +listen, when she should have been in bed; she counted the spots on the +carpet, heard nothing that was said, and prided herself on being one of +such company. A little later, she was encouraged to talk to every body, +and give her opinion upon every thing, in order to improve and exercise +her mind. Her mind remained unexercised, because she talked without +thinking; but she learned to chatter, to repeat other people's opinions, +and fancy her own were of immense importance.</p> + +<p>She was unlovely, because she sought only to please by means she had +not, and to please those who were quite beyond her reach; others she had +been accustomed to neglect as unfit for her companionship. She was +useless, because <span class='pagenum'>[127]<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a></span>what she might have done well, she was unaccustomed to +do at all, and what she attempted, she was incapable of. And she was +unhappy, because all her natural tastes had been thwarted, and her +natural feelings suppressed; and of her acquired habits and +high-sounding pursuits she had no capacity for enjoyment. Her love of +classic and scientific lore, her delight in libraries, and museums, and +choice intellects, and literary circles, was a fiction; they gratified +nothing but her vanity. Her small, narrow, weak, and dependent mind, was +a reality, and placed her within reach of mortification and +disappointment, from the merest and meanest trifles.</p> + +<p>Jemima—my little friend Jemima—I lived to see her a woman too. From +her infancy she had never evinced the tastes and feelings of a child. +Intense reflection, keen and impatient sensibility and an unlimited +desire to know, marked her from the earliest years as a very +extraordinary child; dislike to the plays and exercises of childhood +made her unpleasing to her companions, and, to superficial observers, +melancholy; but this was amply contradicted by the eager vivacity of her +intellect and feeling, when called forth by things beyond the usual +compass of her age. Every thing in Jemima gave promise of extraordinary +talent and distinguished character. This her parents saw, and were +determined to counteract. They had made up their minds what a woman +should be, and were determined Jemima should be nothing else. Every +thing calculated to <span class='pagenum'>[128]<a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a></span>call forth her powers was kept out of her way, and +childish occupations forced on her in their stead. The favorite maxim +was, to occupy her mind with common things; she was made to romp, and to +dance and to play; to read story books, and make dolls' clothes. Her +physical powers were thus occupied; but where was her mind the while? +Feeding itself with fancies, for want of truths; drawing false +conclusions, forming wrong judgments, and brooding over its own +mistakes, for want of a judicious occupation of its activities.</p> + +<p>Another maxim was, to keep Jemima ignorant of her own capacity, lest she +should set up for a genius, and be undomesticated. She was told she had +none, and was left in ignorance of what she was capable, and for what +she was responsible. Made to believe that her fine feelings were +oddities, her expansive thoughts absurdities, and her love of knowledge +unfeminine and ungraceful, she kept them to herself, and became +reserved, timid, and artificial.</p> + +<p>Nobody could prevent Jemima's acquiring knowledge; she saw every thing, +reflected upon every thing, and learned from every thing; but without +guide, and without discretion, she gathered the honey and the gall +together, and knew not which was which. She was sent to school that she +might learn to play, and fetched home that she might learn to be useful. +In the former place she was shunned as an oddity, because she preferred +to learn; and, finding herself disliked with<span class='pagenum'>[129]<a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></span>out deserving it, +encouraged herself to independence by disliking every body. In the +latter, she sewed her work awry, while she made a couplet to the moon, +and unpicked it while she made another; and being told she did every +thing ill, believed it, and became indolent and careless to do any +thing. Consumed, meanwhile, by the restless workings of her mind, and +tasked to exercise for which its delicate frame-work was unfit, her +person became faded, worn, and feeble.</p> + +<p>To be brief, her parents succeeded in baffling nature's promise, but +failed of the fulfillment of their own. At twenty, Jemima was a puzzle +to every body, and a weariness to herself. Conscious of her powers, but +not knowing how to spend them, she gave in to every imaginable caprice. +Having made the discovery of her superiority, she despised the opinions +of others, while her own were too ill-formed to be her guide. Proud of +possessing talent, and yet ashamed to show it; unaccustomed to explain +herself; certain of being misunderstood, and least of all understanding +herself; ignorant, in the midst of knowledge, and incapable with +unlimited capacity; tasteless for every thing she did, and ignorant how +to do what she had a taste for, her mind was a luxuriant wilderness, +inaccessible to others, and utterly unproductive to its possessor. +Unpleasing and unfitted in the sphere she was in, and yet unfitted by +habit and timidity for any other, weariness and disgust were her daily +portion; her fine sensibilities, her deep feelings, her expan<span class='pagenum'>[130]<a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a></span>sive +thoughts, remained; but only to be wounded, to irritate, to mislead her.</p> + +<p>Where is the moral of my tale, and what the use of telling it? I have +told it because I see that God has his purposes in every thing that he +has done; and man has his own, and disregards them. And every day I hear +it disputed, with acrimony and much unkindness, what faculties and +characters it is better to have or not to have, without any +consideration of what God has given or withheld; and standards are set +up, by which all must be measured, though, alas! they cannot take from +or add one cubit to their statures. "There is one glory of the sun, and +another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star +differeth from another star in glory." Why do we not censure the sun for +outshining the stars, and the pale moon for having no light but what she +borrows?</p> + +<p>Instead of settling for others what they ought to be, and choosing for +ourselves what we will be, would it not be better to examine the +condition in which we are actually placed, and the faculties actually +committed to us? and consider what was the purpose of Heaven in the +former, and what the demand of Heaven in the occupation of the latter? +If we have much, we are not at liberty to put it aside, and say we +should be better without it; if we have little, we are not at liberty to +be dissatisfied, and aspiring after more. And surely we are not at +liberty to say that another has too much, or too little, of what God has +given! We <span class='pagenum'>[131]<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></span>may have our preferences, but we must not mistake them for +standards of right.</p> + +<p>Every character has beauties peculiar to itself, and dangers to which it +is peculiarly exposed; and there are duties, pertaining to each, apart +from the circumstances in which they may be placed. Nothing, therefore, +can be more contrary to the manifest order and disposition of +Providence, than to endeavor to be, or do, whatever we admire in +another, or to force ourselves to be and do whatever we admire in +ourselves. Which character, of the endless variety that surrounds us, is +the most happy, the most useful, and most deserving to be beloved, it +were impossible, I believe, to decide; and, if we could, we have gained +little by the decision; for we could neither give it to our children, +nor to ourselves. But of this we may be certain: that individual, of +whatever intellectual character, is the happiest, the most useful, and +the most beloved of God, if not of men, who has best subserved the +purposes of Heaven in her creation and endowment; who has most carefully +turned to good the faculties she has; most cautiously guarded against +the evils to which her propensities incline; most justly estimated, and +conscientiously fulfilled, the duties appropriate to her circumstance +and character.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 112px;"> +<img src="images/img26.jpg" width="112" height="35" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[132]<a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="INFLUENCE_OF_CHRISTIANITY_ON_WOMAN" id="INFLUENCE_OF_CHRISTIANITY_ON_WOMAN"></a>INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON WOMAN.</h2> + + +<p>The abject condition of the female sex, in all, out of Christian +countries, is universally known and admitted. In all savage and pagan +tribes, the severest burdens of physical toil are laid upon their +shoulders; they are chiefly valued for the same reason that men value +their most useful animals, or as objects of their sensual and selfish +desires. Even in the learned and dignified forms of Eastern paganism, +"the wife," says one who has spent seventeen years among them, "is the +slave, rather than the companion of her husband. She is not allowed to +walk with him, she must walk <i>behind</i> him; not to eat with him, she must +eat <i>after</i> him, and eat of what he leaves. She must not sleep until he +is asleep, nor remain asleep after he is awake. If she is sitting, and +he comes in, she should rise up. She should, say their sacred books, +have no other god on earth than her husband. Him she should worship +while he lives, and, when he dies, she should be burnt with him. As the +widow, in case she is not burnt, is not allowed to marry again, is often +con<span class='pagenum'>[133]<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a></span>sidered little better than an outcast, and not unfrequently sinks +into gross vice, her life can scarcely be considered a blessing."</p> + +<p>The same author remarks, that "there is little social intercourse +between the sexes; little or no acquaintance of the parties before +marriage, and consequently little mutual attachment; and as there is an +absolute vacuity and darkness in the minds of the females, who are not +allowed even to learn to read, there is no solid foundation laid for +domestic happiness."</p> + +<p>If we pass into the dominions of the crescent, we find the condition of +females, in some respects, rather worse, it would seem, than better. +For, in pagan India, debased and abused as woman is, she is still +allowed some interest in religion, and some common expectations with the +other sex, concerning the future state. But in Mohammedan countries, +even this is nearly or quite denied her. "It is a popular tradition +among the Mohammedans, which obtains to this day, that woman shall not +enter Paradise;" and it requires some effort of the imagination to +conceive how debased and wretched must be the condition of the female +sex, to originate and sustain such a horrible and blasphemous tradition.</p> + +<p>Even in the refined and shining ages of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, where +the cultivation of letters, the graces of finished style, the charms of +poetry and eloquence, the elegances of architecture, sculpture, +painting, and embroidery, the glory of conquest, and the pride of +national dis<span class='pagenum'>[134]<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a></span>tinction, were unsurpassed by any people before or +since—even then and there, what was the woman but the abject slave of +man? the object of his ambition, or his avarice, or his lust, or his +power? the alternate victim of his pleasures, his disgust, or his +cruelty? the creature of his caprice? and, what is worse, the menial +slave of her own mental darkness, moral debasement, and vicious +indulgences? If history is not false, the answer is decisive. This, and +only this, was she!</p> + +<p>But how entirely has our religion reversed all this, and rendered her +life a blessing to herself and to society. And as Christianity has done +so much for woman, she ought in return to do much for Christianity. +Every thing that can render life desirable, she owes to Christ. Think +for one moment of the hole of the pit from which Christ has taken you! +Think of what would be your present condition, had it not been for the +Christian religion! You might have been with the debased and wretched +victims of pagan oppression, cruelty, and lust; burning alive upon the +funeral pile; or sacrificed by hands of violence or pollution; or cast +out, and neglected, to pine in solitary and hopeless grief. Or, with the +female followers of the false prophet, or, in more refined but +unchristian nations, you might have been little else than the slave or +the convenience of man, and left to doubt whether any inheritance awaits +you beyond the grave.</p> + +<p>From these depths of debasement and wretchedness, Christianity has taken +you, and placed you <span class='pagenum'>[135]<a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></span>on high, to move, and shine, and rejoice, in the +sphere for which the Creator designed you. Not only has it made your +condition as good as that of man, but, in a moral view, in some respects +superior to it. How much, then, do you owe to Christ! To turn away from +him with indifference or neglect, what ingratitude is this! How +preposterous, how base, how unlovely, is female impiety! There was much +sense in a remark made by an intelligent gentleman, who, although not +pious himself, said: "I cannot look with any complacency upon a woman +who does not manifest gratitude and love to Jesus Christ. Above all +things, I hate to see so unnatural an object as an irreligious woman."</p> + +<p>Such being the constitution and circumstances of woman, it is the +manifest intention of God that she should be pre-eminent in moral +excellence; and, through the influence of this, take a glorious lead in +the renovation of the world. This she has to some extent ever done. Let +all females of Christian lands consider well their high calling, their +solemn responsibility, and their glorious privilege. While many of their +sex have proved recreant to their trust, and wasted life in vanity and +in vice, others—an illustrious constellation, the holy and the good of +ancient time, the mothers and the sisters in Israel, "the chief women, +not a few," of apostolic times, the bright throng, that have since +continued to come out from the world, and tread in the steps of Jesus, +and lead on their fellow-beings to the kingdom of purity and joy—<span class='pagenum'>[136]<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></span>have +proved to us that, as woman was first to fall, so she is first to rise.</p> + +<p>Yes; though it is not hers to amass wealth; to aspire to secular office +and power; to shine in camps and armies; to hurl the thunders of our +navies, and gather laurels from the ocean, or to receive the vain +incense offered to public and popular eloquence: yet, hers it is, to be +robed with the beauty of Christ; to shine in the honors of goodness; to +shed over the world the sweet and holy influences of peace, virtue, and +religion; to be adorned with those essential and imperishable beauties, +those unearthly stars and diadems, whose lustre will survive, with +ever-increasing brightness, when all earthly glory will fade and be +forgotten. Come, then; come to your high duty, your glorious +privilege—come, and be blessed for ever!</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;"> +<img src="images/img27.jpg" width="150" height="150" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'>[137]<a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2 class="chapterhead"><a name="IMPORTANCE_OF_RELIGION_TO_WOMAN" id="IMPORTANCE_OF_RELIGION_TO_WOMAN"></a>IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO WOMAN.</h2> + + +<p>There is nothing so adapted to the wants of woman as religion. She has +many trials, and she therefore peculiarly needs support; religion is her +asylum, not only in heavy afflictions, but in petty disquietudes. These, +as they are more frequent, are perhaps almost as harassing; at least, +they equally need a sedative influence, and religion is the anodyne. For +it is religion which, by placing before her a better and more enduring +happiness than this world can offer, reconciles her to temporary +privations; and, by acquainting her with the love of God, leads her to +rest securely upon his providence in present disappointment. It inspires +her with that true content, which not only endures distress, but is +cheerful under it.</p> + +<p>Resignation is not, as we are too apt to portray her, beauty bowered in +willows, and bending over a sepulchral urn; neither is she a tragic +queen, pathetic only in her weeds. She is an active, as well as passive +virtue; an habitual, not an occasional sentiment. She should be as +familiar to woman as her daily cross; for acquiescence in the detail of +Providence is as much a duty, as submission to its result; and +equanimity amid domes<span class='pagenum'>[138]<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a></span>tic irritations equally implies religious +principle, as fortitude under severer trials. It was the remark of one, +who certainly was not disposed to care for trifles, that "it required as +much grace to bear the breaking of a china cup, as any of the graver +distresses of life."</p> + +<p>Minor cares are indeed the province of woman; minor annoyances her +burden. Dullness, bad temper, mal-adroitness, are to her the cause of a +thousand petty rubs, which too often spoil the euphony of a silver +voice, and discompose the symmetry of fair features. But the confidence +which reposes on divine affection, and the charity which covers human +frailty, are the only specifics for impatience.</p> + +<p>And, if religion is such a blessing in the ordinary trials of life, what +a soothing balm it is in graver sorrows! From these, woman is by no +means exempt; on the contrary, as her susceptibility is great, +afflictions press on her with peculiar heaviness. There is sometimes a +stillness in her grief which argues only its intensity, and it is this +rankling wound which piety alone can heal. Nothing, perhaps, is more +affecting than woman's chastened sorrow. Her ties may be severed, her +fond hopes withered, her young affections blighted, yet peace may be in +her breast, and heaven in her eye. If the business and turmoil of life +brush away the tears of manly sorrows, and scarcely leave time even for +the indulgence of sympathy, woman gathers strength in her solitary +chamber, to encounter and subdue her grief. There she learns <span class='pagenum'>[139]<a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a></span>to look +her sorrow in the face; there she becomes familiar with its features; +there she communes with it, as with a celestial messenger; till at +length she can almost welcome its presence, and hail it as the harbinger +of a brighter world.</p> + +<p>Religion is her only elevating principle. It identifies itself with the +movements of her heart and with the actions of her life, spiritualizing +the one and ennobling the other. Duties, however subordinate, are to the +religious woman never degrading; their principle is their apology. She +does not live amidst the clouds, or abandon herself to mystic +excitement; she is raised above the sordidness, but not above the +concerns, of earth; above its disquietudes, but not above its cares.</p> + +<p>Religion is just what woman needs. Without it, she is ever restless and +unhappy; ever wishing to be relieved from duty or from time. She is +either ambitious of display, or greedy of pleasure, or sinks into a +listless apathy, useless to others and unworthy of herself. But when the +light from heaven shines upon her path, it invests every object with a +reflected radiance. Duties, occupations, nay, even trials, are seen +through a bright medium; and the sunshine which gilds her course on +earth, is but the dawning of a far clearer day.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/img28.jpg" width="75" height="109" alt="Chapter end illustration" title="Chapter end illustration" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<p><a name="T_Note" id="T_Note"></a>Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p>The following words were inconsistently hyphenated:</p> + +<p>house-wife / housewife<br /> +time-piece / timepiece</p> + +<p>Other errors:</p> + +<table style="margin-left: 0;"> +<tr> +<td>Original<br /> +Page</td><td></td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Familiarity">11</a></td> <td>Missing period after 'other'</td></tr> +<tr><td></td> <td>....each other "<i>Familiarity</i>," says....</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#she_could_not_help_it_She_sang_to">72</a></td> <td>Missing period after 'it'</td></tr> +<tr><td></td> <td>....could not help it She sang to Nurse....</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#Fannnys">124</a></td> <td>Extra 'n' in the name Fanny</td></tr> +<tr><td></td> <td>....cannot be said that Fannny's health....</td></tr> +</table> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES' VASE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16802-h.txt or 16802-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/8/0/16802">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/8/0/16802</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bed6507 --- /dev/null +++ b/16802-h/images/img26.jpg diff --git a/16802-h/images/img27.jpg b/16802-h/images/img27.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1cfc82e --- /dev/null +++ b/16802-h/images/img27.jpg diff --git a/16802-h/images/img28.jpg b/16802-h/images/img28.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e18a32 --- /dev/null +++ b/16802-h/images/img28.jpg diff --git a/16802.txt b/16802.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8846c50 --- /dev/null +++ b/16802.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3493 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Ladies' Vase, by An American Lady + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Ladies' Vase + Polite Manual for Young Ladies + + +Author: An American Lady + + + +Release Date: October 4, 2005 [eBook #16802] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES' VASE*** + + +E-text prepared by Barbara Tozier, Julia Miller, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +Transcriber's Note: Printer's errors from the original book, such as + inconsistent hyphenation and missing punctuation, + have been retained in this version of the text. + A list of these errors is located at the end of + the text. + + + + + +THE LADIES' VASE; + +Or, Polite Manual for Young Ladies. + +Original and Selected + +by + +AN AMERICAN LADY + +Eighth Edition. + +Hartford: +H. S. Parsons and Co. + +Stereotyped by +Richard H. Hobbs. +Hartford, Conn. + +1849 + + + + + + + +PREFACE. + + +So many volumes have already appeared before the public, similar in +character to this little work, that it is with feelings of diffidence we +bring our humble offering, especially when we consider the rich merit +possessed by many of its predecessors. But our apology must be found in +the fact that these publications are, from their size, and consequent +expense, inaccessible to many of the class whose improvement they are so +well adapted to promote. Considering the formation of female character +and manners a matter of inestimable importance, especially at the +present age, swayed as it is by moral rather than by physical force, we +have carefully availed ourselves of the best advice of some of our most +judicious writers on female education; and, by presenting our work in a +cheaper form than any of this class which is now before the public, hope +to render it attainable to all those for whom it is especially designed. + +_April 16, 1847._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +POLITENESS, 7 +TRUE AND FALSE POLITENESS, 9 +IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANNERS, 13 +SELF-POSSESSION, 16 +GOOD COMPANY, 19 +FRIENDSHIP, 21 +KINDRED HEARTS, 28 +CONVERSATION, 30 +EXAGGERATION, 34 +EGOTISM, 37 +GENTLENESS, 44 +SISTERLY VIRTUES, 46 +HOME, 49 +FIRESIDE INFLUENCE, 51 + { THE TEETH, 54 +PERSONAL APPEARANCE, { THE HAIR, 57 + { THE HANDS, 59 +DRESS, 61 +COMPRESSION OF THE LUNGS, 64 +LETTER-WRITING, 68 +MUSIC, 71 +FLOWERS, 73 +TIME, 76 +NOVEL-READING, 85 +FEMALE ROMANCE, 89 +BEHAVIOR TO GENTLEMEN, 95 +MARRIAGE, 101 +MARRIAGE HYMN, 104 +FEMALE INFLUENCE, 105 +A DIFFICULT QUESTION, 109 +EASILY DECIDED, 121 +INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON WOMAN, 132 +IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO WOMAN, 137 + + + + +LADIES' VASE. + + +POLITENESS. + + +Politeness, like every thing else in one's character and conduct, should +be based on Christian principle. "Honor all men," says the apostle. This +is the spring of good manners; it strikes at the very root of +selfishness: it is the principle by which we render to all ranks and +ages their due. A respect for your fellow-beings--a reverence for them +as God's creatures and our brethren--will inspire that delicate regard +for their rights and feelings, of which good manners is the sign. + +If you have truth--not the truth of policy, but religious truth--your +manners will be sincere. They will have earnestness, simplicity, and +frankness--the best qualities of manners. They will be free from +assumption, pretense, affectation, flattery, and obsequiousness, which +are all incompatible with sincerity. If you have sincerity, you will +choose to appear no other, nor better, than you are--to dwell in a true +light. + +We have often insisted, that the Bible contains the only rules necessary +in the study of politeness. Or, in other words, that those who are the +real disciples of Christ, cannot fail to be truly polite. Thus, let the +young woman who would possess genuine politeness, take her lessons, not +in the school of a hollow, heartless world, but in the school of Jesus +Christ. I know this counsel may be despised by the gay and fashionable; +but it will be much easier to despise it, than to prove it to be +incorrect. + +"Always think of the good of the whole, rather than of your own +individual convenience," says Mrs. Farrar, in her _Young Ladies' +Friend_. A most excellent rule; and one to which we solicit your earnest +attention. She who is thoroughly imbued with the Gospel spirit, will not +fail to do so. It was what our Savior did continually; and I have no +doubt that his was the purest specimen of good manners, or genuine +politeness, the world has ever witnessed; the politeness of Abraham +himself not excepted. + + + + +TRUE AND FALSE POLITENESS. + + +Every thing really valuable is sure to be counterfeited. This applies +not only to money, medicine, religion, and virtue, but even to +politeness. We see in society the truly polite and the falsely polite; +and, although all cannot explain, all can feel the difference. While we +respect the one, we despise the other. Men hate to be cheated. An +attempt to deceive us, is an insult to our understandings and an affront +to our morals. The pretender to politeness is a cheat. He tries to palm +off the base for the genuine; and, although he may deceive the vulgar, +he cannot overreach the cultivated. True politeness springs from right +feelings; it is a good heart, manifesting itself in an agreeable life; +it is a just regard for the rights and happiness of others in small +things; it is the expression of true and generous sentiments in a +graceful form of words; it regards neatness and propriety in dress, as +something due to society, and avoids tawdriness in apparel, as offensive +to good taste; it avoids selfishness in conduct and roughness in +manners: hence, a polite person is called a _gentle_ man. True +politeness is the smoothness of a refined mind and the tact of a kind +heart. + +Politeness is a word derived from the Greek word _polis_, which means a +city--the inhabitants of which are supposed, by constant intercourse +with each other, to be more refined in manners than the inhabitants of +the country. From _polis_, comes our English word _polish_, which +signifies an effect produced by rubbing down roughnesses until the +surface is smoothed and brightened: hence, we speak of polished minds +and polished manners. Persons in good society rub against each other +until their sharp points are worn down, and their intercourse becomes +easy. The word _urbanity_ comes from the Latin word _urbs_; that, also, +means a city, and it signifies politeness, gentleness, polish, for a +similar reason. + +In mingling with our fellow-men, there is a constant necessity for +little offices of mutual good will. An observing and generous-minded +person notices what gives him offense, and what pleases him in the +conduct of others; and he seeks at once to correct or cultivate similar +things in himself. He acts upon the wise, Christian principle of doing +to others as he would have them do to him. Hence, in dress and person, +he is clean and neat; in speech, he is courteous; in behavior, +conciliating; in the pursuit of his own interests, unobtrusive. No truly +polite person appears to notice bodily defects or unavoidable +imperfections in others; and, above all, he never sneers at religion, +either in its doctrines, ordinances, or professors. + +False politeness is but a clumsy imitation of all this. It is selfish +in its object, and superficial in its character. It is a slave to +certain forms of speech, certain methods of action, and certain fashions +of dress. It is insincere; praising where it sees no merit, and excusing +sin where it beholds no repentance. It is the offspring of selfishness; +perverting the golden rule by flattering stupidity and winking at vice, +with the hope of being treated in the same way by the community. It is a +bed of flowers, growing over a sepulchre, and drawing its life from the +loathsome putrefaction within. + +Yet, insincere and wrong as are the motives to false politeness, it is, +after all, better than vulgarity. It is the cotton batting, that keeps +the glass vases of society from dashing against each other. +"_Familiarity_," says the proverb, "_breeds contempt_;" and this is +found true, whenever coarse minds with rude manners come in contact. +Careless of the little decencies of society; selfish in selecting the +best seat in the room, or the best dish at the table; unwashed in +person, and slovenly in dress: what is this but an open proclamation of +utter disregard for others? How soon contempt must follow! + +Let the young polish their manners, not by attending to mere artificial +rules, but by the cultivation of right feelings. Let them mingle with +refined society as often as they can; and, by refined society, I do not +mean those whom you find in the ball-room--in the theater--in the +crowded party, or those--however wealthy, or richly dressed--you feel to +be only artificially polite; but I mean those who make you feel at ease +in their society, while, at the same time, they elevate your aims and +polish your manners. What a good style is to noble sentiments, +politeness is to virtue. + + + + +IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANNERS. + + +There is something in the very constitution of human nature which +inclines us to form a judgment of character from manners. It is always +taken for granted, unless there is decisive evidence to the contrary, +that the manners are the genuine expression of the feelings. And even +where such evidence exists--that is, where we have every reason to +believe that the external appearance does injustice to the moral +dispositions; or, on the other hand, where the heart is too favorably +represented by the manners--there is still a delusion practiced upon the +mind, by what passes under the eye, which it is not easy to resist. You +may take two individuals of precisely the same degree of intellectual +and moral worth, and let the manners of the one be bland and attractive, +and those of the other distant or awkward, and you will find that the +former will pass through life with far more ease and comfort than the +latter; for, though good manners will never effectually conceal a bad +heart, and are, in no case, any atonement for it, yet, taken in +connection with amiable and virtuous dispositions, they naturally and +necessarily gain upon the respect and goodwill of mankind. + +You will instantly perceive--if the preceding remarks be correct--that +it is not only your interest to cultivate good manners, as you hereby +recommend yourself to the favorable regards of others, but also your +duty, as it increases, in no small degree, your means of usefulness. It +will give you access to many persons, and give you an influence over +those whom you could otherwise never approach; much less, whose feelings +and purposes you could never hope, in any measure, to control. + +"If I should point you to the finest model of female manners which it +has ever been my privilege to observe," says a late writer, in a letter +to his daughter, "and one which will compare with the most perfect +models of this or any other age, I should repeat a venerated name--that +of Mrs. Hannah More. It was my privilege, a few years ago, to make a +visit to the residence of this distinguished female; a visit which I +have ever since regarded as among the happiest incidents of my life. At +that time, she numbered more than fourscore years, but the vigor of her +intellect was scarcely impaired; and, from what she was, I could easily +conceive what she had been when her sun was at its meridian. In her +person, she was rather small, but was a specimen of admirable symmetry. +In her manners, she united the dignity and refinement of the court, with +the most exquisite urbanity and gentleness which the female character, +in its loveliest forms, ever exhibited. She impressed me continually +with a sense of the high intellectual and moral qualities by which she +was distinguished, but still left me as unconstrained as if I had been +conversing with a beloved child. There was an air of graceful and +unaffected ease; an instinctive regard to the most delicate proprieties +of social intercourse; a readiness to communicate, and yet a desire to +listen; the dignity of conscious merit, united with the humility of the +devoted Christian: in short, there was such an assemblage of +intellectual and moral excellences beaming forth in every expression, +and look, and attitude, that I could scarcely conceive of a more perfect +exhibition of human character. I rejoice that it is the privilege of all +to know Mrs. More through her works; and I can form no better wish for +you than that you may imbibe her spirit, and walk in her footsteps." + + + + +SELF-POSSESSION. + + +Self-possession is the first requisite to good manners; and, where it is +wanting, there is generally a reason for it, in some wrong feeling or +appreciation of things. Vanity, a love of display, an overweening desire +to be admired, are great obstacles to self-possession; whereas, a +well-disciplined and well-balanced character will generally lead to +composure and self-command. In a very elegant assemblage, in a large +drawing-room in a Southern city, I saw a young lady walk quietly and +easily across the apartment to speak to a friend, who said to her: "I +wanted very much to get to you, but I had not the courage to cross the +room. How could you do it?--all alone, too, and with so many persons +looking at you!" "I did not think of any body's looking at me," was the +reply; and in that lay the secret of her self-possession. Very modest +people believe themselves to be of too little consequence to be +observed; but conceited ones, think every body must be looking at them. +Inexperienced girls, who are not wanting in modesty, are apt to dread +going into a crowded room, from an idea that every eye will be turned +upon them; but after a while they find that nobody cares to look at +them, and that the greater the crowd, the less they are observed. + +Your enjoyment of a party depends far less on what you find there, than +on what you carry with you. The vain, the ambitious, the designing, will +be full of anxiety when they go, and of disappointment when they return. +A short triumph will be followed by a deep mortification, and the +selfishness of their aims defeats itself. If you go to see and to hear, +and to make the best of whatever occurs, with a disposition to admire +all that is beautiful, and to sympathize in the pleasures of others, you +can hardly fail to spend the time pleasantly. The less you think of +yourself and your claims to attention, the better. If you are much +attended to, receive it modestly, and consider it as a happy accident; +if you are little noticed, use your leisure in observing others. + +The popular belle, who is the envy of her own sex and the admiration of +the other, has her secret griefs and trials, and thinks she pays very +dearly for her popularity; while the girl who is least attended to in +crowded assemblies, is apt to think her's the only hard lot, and that +there is unmixed happiness in being a reigning belle. She, alone, whose +steady aim is to grow better and wiser every day of her life, can look +with an equal eye on both extremes. If your views are elevated, and your +feelings are ennobled and purified by communion with gifted spirits, and +with the Father of spirits, you will look calmly on the gayest scenes +of life; you will attach very little importance to the transient +popularity of a ball-room; your endeavor will be to bring home from +every visit some new idea, some valuable piece of information, or some +useful experience of life. + + + + +GOOD COMPANY. + + +"Good company," says Duclos, "resembles a dispersed republic: the +members of it are found in all classes. Independent of rank and station, +it exists only among those who think and feel; among those who possess +correct ideas and honorable sentiments." The higher classes, constantly +occupied with the absorbing interests of wealth and ambition, formerly +introduced into their magnificent saloons a grave and almost diplomatic +stiffness of manners, of which the solemnity banished nature and +freedom. The amusements of the lower classes, which rather resembled a +toil than a recreation, present to the spectator a procedure +irreconcilable to good taste. + +There are, moreover, too many points of resemblance between the manners +and education of the higher and lower classes, to admit of our finding +the elements of good society in either of them. The lower orders are +ignorant, from want of means of instruction; the higher, from indolence +and perpetually increasing incapacity. It is besides not a little +curious that, even in the bygone days of ceremonious manners, the higher +classes, by whom they were practiced, were uniformly taught by those +illiterate persons of the lower classes who almost alone practice the +art of dancing-masters. + +It is therefore to the middle class, almost exclusively, that we must +look for good society; to that class which has not its ideas contracted +by laborious occupations, nor its mental powers annihilated by luxury. +In this class, it is truly observed, society is often full of charm: +every one seems, according to the precept of _La Bruyere_, "anxious, +both by words and manners, to make others pleased with him and with +themselves." There are slight differences of character, opinion, and +interest; but there is no prevailing style, no singular or affected +customs. An unperceived interchange of ideas and kind offices produces a +delightful harmony of thoughts and sentiments; and the wish to please +inspires those affectionate manners, those obliging expressions, and +those unrestrained attentions, which alone render social unions pleasant +and desirable. + + + + +FRIENDSHIP. + + +This subject was forcibly presented to my mind by a conversation I +recently heard in a party of young ladies, and which I take as a pattern +and semblance of twenty other conversations I have heard in twenty +similar parties. Friendship was (as it very often is) the subject of the +discussion; and, though the words have escaped my memory, I can well +recall the substance of the remarks. One lady boldly asserted that there +was no such thing as friendship in the world, where all was insincerity +and selfishness. I looked, but saw not in her youthful eye and +unfurrowed cheeks any traces of the sorrow and ill-usage that I thought +should alone have wrung from gentle lips so harsh a sentence, and I +wondered where in twenty brief years she could have learned so hard a +lesson. Have known it, she could not! therefore I concluded she had +taken it upon trust from the poets, who are fain to tell all the ill +they can of human nature, because it makes better poetry than good. + +The remark was taken up, as might have been expected, by a young +champion, who thought, or said without thinking, that friendship was--I +really cannot undertake to say what, but all the things that young +ladies usually put into their themes at school: something interminable, +illimitable, and immutable. From this the discussion grew; and how it +was, and what it was, went on to be discussed. I cannot pursue the +thread of the discourse; but the amount of it was this:--One thought +friendship was the summer portion only of the blessed; a flower for the +brow of the prosperous, that the child of misfortune must never gather. +Another thought that all interest being destructive to its very essence, +it could not be trusted, unless there was an utter destitution of every +thing that might recommend us to favor, or requite affection. This lady +must have been brought to the depth of wretchedness ere she ever could +be sure she had a friend. Some, I found, thought it was made up of a +great deal of sensibility, vulgarly called jealousy; that was, to take +umbrage at every seeming slight, to the indescribable torment of either +party. Some betrayed, if they did not exactly say it, that they thought +friendship such an absolute unity, that it would be a less crime to +worship two gods than to love two friends! Therefore, to bring it to its +perfection, it was necessary that all beside should be despised and +disregarded. + +Others, very young, and of course soon to grow wiser, thought it +consisted in the exact disclosure of your own concerns and those of +every body else with which you might chance to become acquainted; +others, that it required such exact conformity in opinion, thought, and +feeling, as should make it impossible to differ; and others, that it +implied such generous interference, even with the feelings as well as +affairs of its object, that it should spend itself in disinterested +reproaches and unasked advice. But, however differing else, all were +sure that friendship but usurped the name, unless it were purely +disinterested, endlessly durable, and beyond the reach of time and +circumstances to change it; and all were going forth in the full +certainty of finding friends, each one after the pattern of her own +imagination, the first speaker only excepted, who was fully determined +never to find any, or never to trust them, if she did. + +I marked, with pained attention, the warm glow of expectation so soon to +be blighted; and, reflected deeply on the many heart-aches with which +they must unlearn their errors. I saw that each one was likely to pass +over and reject the richest blessing of earth, even in the very pursuing +of it, from having merely sketched, in imagination, an unresembling +portrait of the object of pursuit. "When friendship meets them," I said, +"they will not know her. Can no one draw for them a better likeness?" + +It is the language of books, and the language of society, that friends +are inconstant, and friendship but little to be depended on; and the +belief, where it is really received, goes far to make a truth of that +which else were false, by creating what it suspects. Few of us but have +lived already long enough to know the bitterness of being disappointed +in our affections, and deceived in our calculations by those with whom, +in the various relationships of life, we are brought in contact. Perhaps +the aggregate of pain from this cause is greater than from any other +cause whatever. And yet, it is much to be doubted whether nearly the +whole of this suffering does not arise from our own unreasonable and +mistaken expectations. There are none so unfortunate but they meet with +some kindness in the world; and none, I believe, so fortunate but that +they meet with much less than they might do, were it not their own +fault. + +In the first place, we are mistaken in our expectations that friendship +should be disinterested. It neither is, nor can be. It may be so in +action, but never in the sentiment; there is always an equivalent to be +returned. And if we examine the movements of our own hearts, we must be +sure this is the case; and yet, we are so unreasonable as to expect our +friends should be purely disinterested; and, after having secured their +affections, we neglect to pay the price, and expect they should be +continued to us for nothing. We grow careless of pleasing them; +inconsiderate of their feelings, and heedless of the government of our +own temper towards them; and then we complain of inconstancy, if they +like us not so well as when dressed out in our best for the reception of +their favor. Yet it is, in fact, we that are changed, not they. + +Another fruitful source of disappointment in our attachments is, that +while we are much more quick in detecting the faults of others than our +own, we absurdly require that every one should be faultless but +ourselves. We do not say that we expect this in our friends; but we do +expect it, and our conduct proves that we expect it. We begin also with +believing it. The obscurities of distance; the vail that the proprieties +of society casts over nature's deformities; the dazzling glitter of +exterior qualities baffle, for a time, our most penetrating glances, and +the imperfect vision seems all that we should have it. Our inexperienced +hearts, and some indeed that should be better taught, fondly believe it +to be all it seems, and begin their attachment in full hope to find it +so. What wonder then that the bitterest disappointment should ensue, +when, on more close acquaintance, we find them full of imperfections, +perhaps of most glaring faults; and we begin to express disgust, +sometimes even resentment, that they are not what we took them for. + +But was this their fault, or ours? Did they not present themselves to us +in the garb of mortal flesh?--and do we not know that mortals are +imperfect?--that, however the outside be fair, the interior is corrupt, +and sometimes vile? He who knows all, alone knows how corrupt it is! the +heart itself, enlightened by His grace, is more deeply in the secret +than any without can be; but if the thing we love be mortal, something +of it we must perceive; and more and more of it we must perceive as we +look closer. If this is to disappoint and revolt us, and draw harsh +reproaches and bitter recriminations from our lips, there is but One on +whom we can fix our hearts with safety; and He is one, alas! we show so +little disposition to love, as proves that, with all our complainings +and bewailings of each others' faultiness, our friends are as good as +will, at present, suit us. + +But are we, therefore, to say there is no such thing as friendship, or +that it is not worth seeking? morosely repel it, or suspiciously +distrust it? If we do, we shall pay our folly's price in the forfeiture +of that, without which, however we may pretend, we never are or can be +happy; preferring to go without the very greatest of all earthly good, +because it is not what, perhaps, it may be in heaven. Rather than this, +it would be wise so to moderate our expectation, and adapt our conduct, +as to gain of it a greater measure, or, as far as may be possible, to +gather of its flowers without exposing ourselves to be wounded by the +thorns it bears. This is only to be done by setting out in life with +juster feelings and fairer expectations. + +It is not true, that friends are few and kindness rare. No one ever +needed friends, and deserved them, and found them not; but we do not +know them when we see them, or deal with them justly when we have them. +We must allow others to be as variable, and imperfect, and faulty, as +ourselves. We do not wish our readers to love their friends less, but to +love them as what they are, rather than as what they wish them to be; +and instead of the jealous pertinacity that is wounded by every +appearance of change, and disgusted by every detection of a fault, and +ready to distrust and cast away the kindest friends on every trifling +difference of behavior and feeling, to cultivate a moderation in their +demands; a patient allowance for the effect of time and circumstance; an +indulgence towards peculiarities of temper and character; and, above +all, such a close examination of what passes in their own hearts, as +will teach them better to understand and excuse what they detect in the +hearts of others; ever remembering that all things on earth are earthly; +and therefore changeful, perishable, and uncertain. + + + + +KINDRED HEARTS. + + + Oh! ask not, hope thou not too much + Of sympathy below; + Few are the hearts whence one same touch, + Bids the same fountain flow; + Few, and by still conflicting powers + Forbidden here to meet, + Such ties would make this life of ours + Too fair for aught so fleet. + + It may be that thy brother's eye + Sees not as thine, which turns, + In such deep reverence, to the sky + Where the rich sunset burns; + It may be that the breath of spring, + Born amidst violets lone, + A rapture o'er thy soul can bring, + A dream to his unknown. + + The tune that speaks of other times-- + A sorrowful delight! + The melody of distant chimes; + The sound of waves by night; + The wind that with so many a tone + Some cord within can thrill; + These may have language all thine own, + To _him_ a mystery still. + + Yet scorn thou not for this the true + And steadfast love of years; + The kindly, that from childhood grew, + The faithful to thy tears! + If there be one that o'er the dead + Hath in thy grief borne part, + And watched through sickness by thy bed, + Call _his_ a kindred heart. + + But for those bonds, all perfect made, + Wherein bright spirits blend, + Like sister flowers of one sweet shade, + With the same breeze that bend; + For that full bliss of thought allied, + Never to mortals given,-- + Oh! lay thy lovely dreams aside, + Or lift them unto heaven. + + + + +CONVERSATION. + + +Good conversation is one of the highest attainments of civilized +society. It is the readiest way in which gifted minds exert their +influence, and, as such, is worthy of all consideration and cultivation. +I remember hearing an English traveler say, many years ago, on being +asked how the conversational powers of the Americans compared with those +of the English--"Your fluency rather exceeds that of the old world, but +conversation here is not cultivated as an art." The idea of its being so +considered any where was new to the company; and much discussion +followed the departure of the stranger, as to the desirableness of +making conversation an art. Some thought the more natural and +spontaneous it was, the better; some confounded art with artifice, and +hoped their countrymen would never leave their own plain, honest way of +talking, to become adepts in hypocrisy and affectation. At last one, a +little wiser than the rest, explained the difference between art and +artifice; asked the cavilers if they had never heard of the art of +writing, or the art of thinking? and said he presumed the art of +conversing was of the same nature. And so it is. By this art, persons +are taught to arrange their ideas methodically, and to express them with +clearness and force; thus saving much precious time, and avoiding those +tedious narrations which interest no one but the speaker. It enforces +the necessity of observing the effect of what is said, and leads a +talker to stop when she finds that she has ceased to fix the attention +of her audience. + +Some persons seem to forget that mere talking is not conversing; that it +requires two to make a conversation, and that each must be in turn a +listener; but no one can be an agreeable companion who is not as willing +to listen as to talk. Selfishness shows itself in this, as in a thousand +other ways. One who is always full of herself, and who thinks nothing so +important as what she thinks, and says, and does, will be apt to engross +more than her share of the talk, even when in the company of those she +loves. + +There are situations, however, wherein it is a kindness to be the chief +talker: as when a young lady is the eldest of the party, and has seen +something, or been in some place, the description of which is desired by +all around her. If your mind is alive to the wishes and claims of +others, you will easily perceive when it is a virtue to talk and when to +be silent. It is undue pre-occupation with self which blinds people, and +prevents their seeing what the occasion requires. + +Sometimes the most kind and sympathizing person will not do justice to +her nature, but will appear to be cold and inattentive, because she +does not know that it is necessary to give some sign that she is +attending to what is addressed to her. She averts her eye from the +speaker, and listens in such profound silence, and with a countenance so +immovable, that no one could suppose her to be at all interested by what +she is hearing. This is very discouraging to the speaker and very +impolite. Good manners require that you should look at the person who +speaks to you, and that you should put in a word, or a look, from time +to time, that will indicate your interest in the narrative. A few +interjections, happily thrown in by the hearer, are a great comfort and +stimulus to the speaker; and one who has always been accustomed to this +evidence of sympathy, or comprehension, in their friends, feels, when +listened to without it, as if she were talking to a dead wall. + +For the encouragement of those who feel themselves deficient in +conversational powers, we will subjoin a notice of the lately-deceased +wife of a clergyman in this state: + +"I saw and felt, when with her, as few others have ever made me feel, +the power and uses of conversation. With her it was always promotive of +intellectual and moral life. And here let me inform you, for the +encouragement of those who may be thinking they would gladly do as she +did in society, if they were able, that when I first knew Mrs. B., her +powers of conversation were very small. She was embarrassed whenever she +attempted to convey her thoughts to others. She labored for expression +so much, that it was sometimes painful to hear her. Still, her social, +affectionate nature longed for communion with other minds and hearts, on +all subjects of deepest import. Her persevering efforts at length +prevailed, and her ardent love of truth gave her utterance: yes, an +utterance that often delighted, and sometimes surprised, those who heard +her; a readiness and fluency that are seldom equalled. Learn, then, from +her, my friends, to _exercise_ your faculties, whatever they may be. In +this way only can you improve, or even retain them. If you have but one +talent of any sort, it may not, with impunity to itself--it may not, +without sin to you--be wrapped in a napkin. And sigh not for higher +powers or opportunities, until you have fully and faithfully exercised +and improved such as you have. Nor can you know what you possess until +you have called them into action." + + + + +EXAGGERATION. + + +It is a great mistake to suppose that exaggeration makes a person more +agreeable, or that it adds to the importance of her statements. The +value of a person's words is determined by her habitual use of them. "I +like it much," "It is well done," will mean as much in some mouths, as +"I am infinitely delighted with it," "'Tis the most exquisite thing I +ever saw," will in others. Such large abatements are necessarily made +for the statements of these romancers, that they really gain nothing in +the end, but find it difficult sometimes to gain credence for so much as +is really true; whereas, a person who is habitually sober and +discriminating in his use of language, will not only inspire confidence, +but be able to produce a fine effect by the occasional use of a +superlative. + +Fidelity and exactness are indispensable in a narrative, and the habit +of exaggerating destroys the power of accurate observation and +recollection which would render the story truly interesting. If, instead +of trying to embellish her account with the fruits of her imagination, a +young lady possessed the power of seizing upon the points best worth +describing, and could give an exact account of them, she would be far +more entertaining than any exaggeration could make her; for there is no +romance like that of real life, and no imaginings of an inexperienced +girl can equal in piquancy the scenes and characters that are every day +presented to our view. Extravagant expressions are sometimes resorted to +in order to atone for deficiencies of memory and observation; but they +will never hide such defects; and an habitual use of them lowers the +tone of the mind, and leads to other deviations from the simplicity of +truth and nature. + +Another way of falsifying a narrative, is by taking for granted what you +do not know, and speaking of it as if you did. This jumping at +conclusions is a fruitful source of false reports, and does great +mischief in the world. Let no one imagine that she is walking +conscientiously, who is not in the habit of discriminating nicely +between what she knows to be fact and what she only supposes to be such. + +The frequent use of some favorite word, or phrase, is a common defect in +conversation, and can only be guarded against by asking your friends to +point it out to you, whenever they observe such a habit; for your own +ear, having become accustomed to it, may not detect it. Some persons +apply the epithets _glorious_ or _splendid_ to all sorts of objects +indiscriminately, from a gorgeous sunset to a good dinner. + +A young lady once tried to describe a pic-nic party to me in the +following terms: "There were ten of us--four on horseback and the rest +in carriages. We set off at a _glorious_ rate, and had a _splendid_ time +in getting there; I rode the most _elegant_, perfect creature you ever +beheld, and capered along _gloriously_. When we all got there, we walked +about in the woods, and gathered the most _splendid_ flowers, and dined +under the shade of a _glorious_ old elm-tree. We had our cold provisions +spread out on the grass, and every thing was _elegant_. We had +_glorious_ appetites, too, and the ham and ale were _splendid_, and put +us all in fine spirits. Some of the gentlemen sang funny songs; but one +sang such a dreadfully sentimental one, and to such a horrid doleful +tune, it made us all miserable. So then we broke up, and had a +_splendid_ time packing away the things; such fun! I had almost killed +myself with laughing, and we broke half the things. But the ride home +was the most _splendid_ of all; we arrived at the top of the hill just +in time to see the most _glorious_ sunset I ever beheld!" + +In this short account, the word "glorious" is used five times, and in +all but the last, it is grossly misapplied. The same is the case with +the word "splendid," except that it is not once used properly. +"Elegant," too, is equally inapplicable to horses and cold provisions. +Yet this style of conversing is so common, that it hardly arrests the +attention of many, who nevertheless would condemn it at once, if they +thought at all about it. + + + + +EGOTISM. + + +Has it ever happened to any but myself, to listen to I, I, I, in +conversation, till, wearied with the monotony of the sound, I was fain +to quarrel with the useful little word, and almost wish I could portray +its hydra head, and present it in a mirror to my oracles, that they +might turn away disgusted for ever with its hideous form. + +I took up my abode for some time with a lady, whose habits of +benevolence were extensive, and of whose true philanthropy of heart I +had heard much. I expected to follow her to the alms-house, the +hospital, and the garret, and I was not disappointed. Thither she went, +and for purposes the kindest and most noble. She relieved their pressing +wants; ministered consolation in the kindest tone; and gave religious +instruction wherever needed. But, then, she kept a strict calendar of +all these pious visitings; and that, too, for the entertainment of her +company. All were called upon to hear the history of the appalling +scenes she had witnessed; the tears of gratitude that had fallen on her +hands; the prayers--half articulate--that had been offered for her by +the dying; and to hear her attestations of disregard to the opposition +she had to encounter in these her labors of love. Who, with such an +appeal, could withhold their commendations? I, therefore, of course, as +I listened again and again to the same tale to different auditors, heard +many pretty complimentary speeches about magnanimity, &c.; and, getting +somewhat weary, I drew nearer to the lady's guests, till I actually +thought I heard from one--he was a clergyman, I believe--an inward +whisper that he would like to refer his friend to the four first verses +of the sixth chapter of Matthew, but that it would be impolite. If my +listening powers were too acute when I heard this, let me turn monitor +at once, and assure my young friends, if they would have their +conversation listened to with pleasure, they must be economists with +_self_ as their subject. + +On behalf of the very young, we certainly have it to plead, that they +know very little of any thing but what is, in some sense, their own. If +they talk of persons, it must be their parents, their brothers and +sisters, because they are the only people they know; if they talk of any +body's affairs, it must be their own, because they are acquainted with +no other; if of events, it must be what happens to themselves, for they +hear nothing of what happens to any body else. As soon, therefore, as +children begin to converse, it is most likely to be about themselves, or +something that belongs to them; and to the rapid growing of this +unwatched habit, may probably be attributed the ridiculous and offensive +egotism of many persons in conversation, who, in conduct, prove that +their feelings and affections are by no means self-engrossed. But the +more indigenous this unsightly weed, the more need is there to prevent +its growth. It has many varieties; the leaf is not always of the same +shape, nor the flower of the same color, but they are all of one genus; +and our readers who are botanists will have no difficulty in detecting +them, however much affected by the soil they grow in. The _I's_ and +_my's_ a lady exhibits in conversation, will bear such analogy to her +character, as the wares on the stall of the bazaar bear to the trade of +the vender. Or, if she have a great deal of what is called tact, she +will, perhaps, vary the article according to the demands of the market. +In fashionable life, it will be _my_ cousin Sir Ralph, _my_ father the +Earl, and _my_ great uncle the Duke; the living relatives and the +departed fathers; the halls of her family, their rent-rolls, or their +graves, will afford abundant materials for any conversation she may have +to furnish. + +Among those who, having gotten into the world they know not how, are +determined it shall, at least, be known that they are there, it is _my_ +houses, _my_ servants, _my_ park, _my_ gardens; or, if the lady be too +young to claim in her own behalf, _my_ father's houses, &c., &c., will +answer all the purpose. But, happily for the supply of this kind of +talk, rank and wealth, though very useful, are not necessary to it. +Without any ostentation whatever, but merely from the habit of occupying +themselves with their own individuality, some will let the company +choose the subject; but, be it what it may, all they have to say upon it +is the _I_, or the _my_. Books, travel, sorrow, sickness, nature, art, +no matter, it is _I_ have seen, _I_ have done, _I_ have been, _I_ have +learned, _I_ have suffered, _I_ have known. Whatever it be to others, +the _I_ is the subject for them; for they tell you nothing of the matter +but their own concern with it. For example, let the city of Naples be +spoken of: one will tell you what is seen there--what is done +there--what happens there--and making her reflections on all without +naming herself; you will only perceive, by her knowledge and remarks, +that she has been in Naples. Another will tell you how she came there, +and why she went, and how long she staid, and what she did, and what she +saw; and the things themselves will appear but as incidents to the idea +of self. + +Some ladies I have known, who, not content with the present display of +their powers, are determined to re-sell their wares at second-hand. They +tell you all the witty things they said to somebody yesterday, and the +wise remarks they made to a certain company last night. _I_ said--_I_ +remarked. The commodity should be valuable indeed to be thus brought to +market a second time. Others there are, who, under pretext of +confidence--little complimentary when shown alike to all--pester people +with their own affairs. Before you have been two hours in their company, +you are introduced to all their family, and to all their family's +concerns, pecuniary affairs, domestic secrets, and personal feelings--a +sort of bird's-eye view of every thing that belongs to them--past, +present, and to come; and woe to the secrets of those who may chance to +have been in connection with these egotists; in such a view, you must +needs see ten miles around. + +There is an egotism, of which we must speak more seriously. Faults, that +in the world we laugh at, when they attain the dignity and purity of +sacred things, become matter of serious regret. I speak nothing further +of the ostentatious display of pious and benevolent exertion. We live at +a time when religion, its deepest and dearest interests, have become a +subject of general conversation. We would have it so; but we mark, with +regret, that self has introduced itself here. The heartless +loquacity--we must say heartless, for, in a matter of such deep +interest, facility of speech bespeaks the feelings light--the +unshrinking jabber with which people tell you their soul's +history--their past impressions and present difficulties--their +doctrines and their doubts--their manifestations and their +experiences--not in the ear of confidence, to have those doubts removed +and those doctrines verified; not in the ear of anxious inquiry, to +communicate knowledge and give encouragement, but any where, in any +company, and to any body who will listen, the _I_ felt--_I_ thought--_I_ +experienced. Sorrows that, if real, should blanch the cheek to think +upon; mercies that enwrap all hearers in amazement, they will tell as +unconcernedly as the adventures of the morning. The voice falters not; +the color changes not; the eye moistens not. And to what purpose all +this personality? To get good, or do good? By no means; but that, +whatever subject they look upon, they always see themselves in the +foreground of the picture, with every minute particular swelled into +importance, while all besides is merged in indistinctness. + +We may be assured there is nothing so ill-bred, so annoying, so little +entertaining, so absolutely impertinent, as this habit of talking always +with reference to ourselves; for every body has a self of their own, to +which they attach as much importance as we to ours, and see all others' +matters small in the comparison. The lady of rank has her castles and +her ancestors--they are the foreground of her picture. There they stood +when she came into being; and there they are still, in all the magnitude +of near perspective; and, if her estimate of their real size be not +corrected by experience and good sense, she expects that others will see +them as large as she does. But that will not be so. The lady of wealth +has gotten her houses and lands in the foreground. These are the larger +features in her landscape; titles and the castles are seen at a smaller +angle. Neither lady will admire the proportions of her neighbor's +drawing, should they chance to discover themselves in each other's +conversation. She, again--whether rich or poor--whose world is her own +domesticity, sees nothing so prominent as the affairs of her nursery or +her household; and perceives not that, in the eyes of others, her +children are a set of diminutives, undistinguishable in the mass of +humanity, in which that they ever existed, or that they cease to exist, +is matter of equal indifference. + +It is thus, that each one attributes to the objects around him, not +their true and actual proportion, but a magnitude proportioned to their +nearness to himself. We say not that he draws ill who does so: for, to +each one, things are important, more or less, in proportion to his own +interest in them. But hence is the mischief. We forget that every one +has a self of his own; and that the constant setting forth of ours is, +to others, preposterous, obtrusive, and ridiculous. The painter who +draws a folio in the front of his picture, and a castle in the distance, +properly draws the book the larger of the two: but he must be a fool, if +he therefore thinks the folio is the larger, and expects every body else +to think so too. Yet, nothing wiser are we, when we suffer ourselves to +be perpetually pointing to ourselves, our affairs, and our possessions, +as if they were as interesting to others as they are important to us. + + + + +GENTLENESS. + + +Nothing is so likely to conciliate the affections of the other sex, as a +feeling that woman looks to them for support and guidance. In proportion +as men are themselves superior, they are as accessible to this appeal. +On the contrary, they never feel interested in one who seems disposed +rather to offer than to ask assistance. There is, indeed, something +unfeminine in independence. It is contrary to nature and, therefore, it +offends. We do not like to see a woman affecting tremors, but still less +do we like to see her acting the Amazon. A really sensible woman feels +her dependence; she does what she can, but she is conscious of +inferiority, and, therefore, grateful for support; she knows that she is +the weaker vessel, and that, as such, she should receive honor. + +In every thing, therefore, that women attempt, they should show their +consciousness of dependence. If they are learners, let them evince a +teachable spirit; if they give an opinion, let them do it in an +unassuming manner. There is something so unpleasant in female +self-sufficiency, that it not unfrequently deters, instead of +persuading, and prevents the adoption of advice which the judgment even +approves. Yet this is a fault into which women, of certain pretensions, +are occasionally betrayed. Age, or experience, or superior endowment, +entitles them, they imagine, to assume a higher place and a more +independent tone. But their sex should ever teach them to be +subordinate; and they should remember that influence is obtained, not by +assumption, but by a delicate appeal to affection or principle. Women, +in this respect, are something like children; the more they show their +need of support, the more engaging they are. + +The appropriate expression of dependence is gentleness. However endowed +with superior talents a woman may be, without gentleness she cannot be +agreeable. Gentleness ought to be the characteristic of the sex; and +there is nothing that can compensate for the want of this feminine +attraction. + +Gentleness is, indeed, the talisman of woman. To interest the feelings +is to her much easier than to convince the judgment; the heart is far +more accessible to her influence than the head. She never gains so much +as by concession; and is never so likely to overcome, as when she seems +to yield. + +Gentleness prepossesses at first sight; it insinuates itself into the +vantage ground, and gains the best position by surprise. While a display +of skill and strength calls forth a counter array, gentleness, at once, +disarms opposition, and wins the day before it is contested. + + + + +SISTERLY VIRTUES. + + +Sisterly affection is as graceful in its developments to the eye of the +beholder, as it is cheering to the heart where it resides. There are +some who, though not deficient in its more important duties, are but too +regardless of those lesser demonstrations of attachment, which are so +soothing to the susceptible heart. Every delicate attention which +tenderness prompts; every mark of politeness which refined society +requires, ought to pervade the intercourse of brothers and sisters. It +is a mistake that good manners are to be reserved for visitors, and +that, in the family circle, negligence and coarseness may be indulged +with impunity. Even nature's affections may be undermined or shaken by +perseverance in an improper deportment, more than by lapses into error +and folly. For the latter, repentance may atone, while the former check +the flow of the heart's warm fountains, until they stagnate or become +congealed. + +I knew a father, himself a model of polished manners, who required of +his large family to treat each other, at all times, with the same +politeness that they felt was due to their most distinguished guest. +Rudeness, neglect, or indifference were never tolerated in their circle. +Respect to each other's opinion; a disposition to please and be +pleased; care in dress, and courtesy of manner, were not considered +thrown away, if bestowed on a brother or a sister. Every one of the +group was instructed to bring amiable feelings and powers of +entertainment to their own fire side. The result was happy. The brothers +felt it an honor to wait upon their sisters, and the sisters a pleasure +to do all in their power for the comfort and improvement of their +brothers. This daily practice of every decorum, imparted to their +manners an enduring grace, while the affections, which Heaven implanted, +seemed to gather strength from the beauty of their interchange. I would +not assert that fraternal or sisterly affection may not be deep and +pervading without such an exterior, yet it is surely rendered more +lovely by it; as the planets might pursue in darkness the order of their +course, but it is their brilliance which reveals and embellishes it. + +Every well-regulated family might be as a perpetual school. The younger +members, witnessing the example of those whose excellence is more +confirmed, will be led, by the principle of imitation, more effectually, +than by the whole force of foreign precept. The custom of the older +daughters, to assist in the education of their less advanced sisters, I +rejoice to see, is becoming more common. It cannot be too highly +applauded. What should prevent their assuming the systematic office of +instructors, when circumstances are favorable to such an arrangement. + +By what method can a daughter more fully evince her gratitude to her +parents, than by aiding their children in the search of knowledge and of +goodness. How amiable, how praiseworthy, is that disposition which +prompts a young and beautiful creature to come forth as the ally of a +mother, in that most overwhelming of all anxieties, so to train her +little ones as to form at last an unbroken family in heaven. No better +apprenticeship could be devised, and no firmer hostage given to God or +man for its faithful performance. + + + + +HOME. + + + Where burns the lov'd hearth brightest, + Cheering the social breast? + Where beats the fond heart lightest, + Its humble hopes possess'd? + Where is the smile of sadness, + Of meek-eyed patience born, + Worth more than those of gladness, + Which mirth's bright cheek adorn? + Pleasure is marked by fleetness, + To those who ever roam; + While grief itself has sweetness + At home! dear home! + + There blend the ties that strengthen + Our hearts in hours of grief; + The silver links that lengthen + Joy's visits when most brief; + There eyes, in all their splendor, + Are vocal to the heart, + And glances, gay or tender, + Fresh eloquence impart; + Then, dost thou sigh for pleasure? + O! do not widely roam, + But seek that hidden treasure + At home! dear home! + + Does pure religion charm thee + Far more than aught below? + Would'st thou that she should arm thee + Against the hour of woe? + Think not she dwelleth only + In temples built for prayer; + For home itself is lonely, + Unless her smiles be there; + The devotee may falter, + The bigot blindly roam, + If worshipless her altar + At home! dear home! + + Love over it presideth, + With meek and watchful awe, + Its daily service guideth, + And shows its perfect law? + If there thy faith shall fail thee, + If there no shrine be found, + What can thy prayers avail thee + With kneeling crowds around? + Go! leave thy gift unoffered + Beneath religion's dome, + And be thy first fruits proffered + At home! dear home! + + + + +FIRESIDE INFLUENCE. + + +Is it not true that parents are the lawgivers of their children? Does +not a mother's counsel--does not a father's example--cling to the +memory, and haunt us through life? Do we not often find ourselves +subject to habitual trains of thought? and, if we seek to discover the +origin of these, are we not insensibly led back, by some beaten and +familiar track, to the paternal threshold? Do we not often discover some +home-chiseled grooves in our minds, into which the intellectual +machinery seems to slide, as by a sort of necessity? Is it not, in +short, a proverbial truth, that the controlling lessons of life are +given beneath the parental roof? We know, indeed, that wayward passions +spring up in early life, and, urging us to set authority at defiance, +seek to obtain the mastery of the heart. But, though struggling for +liberty and license, the child is shaped and molded by the parent. The +stream that bursts from the fountain, and seems to rush forward headlong +and self-willed, still turns hither and thither, according to the shape +of its mother-earth over which it flows. If an obstacle is thrown across +its path, it gathers strength, breaks away the barrier, and again bounds +forward. It turns, and winds, and proceeds on its course, till it +reaches its destiny in the sea. But, in all this, it has shaped its +course and followed out its career, from babbling infancy at the +fountain to its termination in the great reservoir of waters, according +to the channel which its parent earth has provided. Such is the +influence of a parent over his child. It has within itself a will, and +at its bidding it goes forward, but the parent marks out its track. He +may not stop its progress, but he may guide its course. He may not throw +a dam across its path, and say to it, hitherto mayest thou go, and no +farther; but he may turn it through safe, and gentle, and useful +courses--or he may leave it to plunge over wild cataracts, or lose +itself in some sandy desert, or collect its strength into a torrent, but +to spread ruin and desolation along its borders. + +The fireside, then, is a seminary of infinite importance: it is +important, because it is universal, and because the education it +bestows, being woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form and color +to the whole texture of life. There are few who can receive the honors +of a college, but all are graduates of the hearth. The learning of the +university may fade from the recollection, its classic lore may molder +in the halls of memory; but the simple lessons of home, enameled upon +the heart of childhood, defy the rust of years, and outlive the more +mature but less vivid pictures of after days. So deep, so lasting, +indeed, are the impressions of early life, that we often see a man, in +the imbecility of age, holding fresh in his recollection the events of +childhood, while all the wide space between that and the present hour is +a blasted and forgotten waste. You have perchance seen an old and +half-obliterated portrait, and, in the attempt to have it cleaned and +restored, may have seen it fade away, while a brighter and more perfect +picture, painted beneath, is revealed to view. This portrait, first +drawn upon the canvas, is no inapt illustration of youth; and, though +it may be concealed by some after-design, still the original traits will +shine through the outward picture, giving it tone while fresh, and +surviving it in decay. Such is the fireside--the great institution +furnished by Providence for the education of man. + + + + +PERSONAL APPEARANCE. + + +THE TEETH. + +The prevalence of defective teeth in this country is the general subject +of remark by foreigners; and whoever has traveled in Spain and Portugal +is struck with the superior soundness and whiteness of teeth in those +countries. Though not a cleanly people in other respects, they wash +their teeth often, and, by means of toothpicks, carefully remove all +substances from between them after meals. A little silver porcupine, +with holes all over its back to insert toothpicks, is a common ornament +on the dining tables of Spain and Portugal. The general use of them +creates so large a demand, that students at Coimbra sometimes support +themselves by whittling toothpicks, which are sold tied in small bunches +like matches. They are made of willow, on account of its toughness and +pliability. Toothpicks of metal are too hard, and are apt to injure the +gums. There is the same objection, in a less degree, to quills. But +willow toothpicks are preferable to all others; and they have the +advantage of being the most cleanly, for they generally break in the +using, and are thrown away. Few sights are more offensive to a person +of any refinement than a toothpick that has been much used; it is, +moreover, uncleanly, and therefore not healthy for the teeth. Food +allowed to remain between the teeth, particularly animal food, is very +destructive: it should be carefully removed after every meal, and the +mouth thoroughly rinsed. This may seem to some like a great talk about a +small matter; but these are simple precautions to take, and very slight +trouble compared with the agony of aching teeth, or a breath so +offensive that your best friend does not wish to sit near you. I can see +no reason why a man's complexion should exclude him from the +dining-table, but I do see a very good reason why he should be banished +for not taking proper care of his teeth. A bad breath is such a +detestable thing, that it might be a sufficient reason for not marrying +a person of otherwise agreeable qualities. It is, moreover, perfectly +inexcusable thus to transform oneself into a walking sepulchre. Nobody +needs to have an offensive breath. A careful removal of substances from +between the teeth, rinsing the mouth after meals, and a bit of charcoal +held in the mouth, will _always_ cure a bad breath. Charcoal, used as a +dentifrice--that is, rubbed on in powder with a brush--is apt to injure +the enamel; but a lump of it, held in the mouth, two or three times in a +week, and slowly chewed, has a wonderful power to preserve the teeth and +purify the breath. The action is purely chemical. It counteracts the +acid arising from a disordered stomach, or food decaying about the +gums; and it is the acid which destroys the teeth. + +Every one knows that charcoal is an antiputrescent, and is used in +boxing up animal or vegetable substances, to keep them from decay. Upon +the same chemical principle, it tends to preserve the teeth and sweeten +the breath. There is no danger from swallowing it; on the contrary, +small quantities have a healthful effect on the inward system, +particularly when the body is suffering from that class of complaints +peculiarly incident to summer. It would not be wise to swallow that or +any other gritty substance, in large quantities, or very frequently; +but, once or twice a week, a little would be salutary, rather than +otherwise. A bit of charcoal, as big as a cherry, merely held in the +mouth a few hours, without chewing, has a good effect. At first, most +persons dislike to chew it, but use soon renders it far from +disagreeable. Those who are troubled with an offensive breath might chew +it very often and swallow it but seldom. It is particularly important to +clean and rinse the mouth thoroughly before going to bed; otherwise a +great deal of the destructive acid will form during the night. + +If these hints induce only _one_ person to take better care of the +teeth, I shall be more than rewarded for the trouble of writing. It is +painful to see young persons losing their teeth merely for want of a few +simple precautions; and one cannot enter stage or steam-car without +finding the atmosphere polluted, and rendered absolutely unhealthy for +the lungs to breathe, when a proper use of water and charcoal might +render it as wholesome and pleasant as a breeze of Eden. + + +THE HAIR. + +No part of the human frame offers a finer subject for the display of +decorative taste and elegance than the hair:--the countenance, the +contour of the head, and even the whole person, may be said to be +greatly affected by its arrangement and dress. As the possession of fine +hair is peculiarly prized, so is its loss proportionally felt. + +Like every other portion of the human frame, the use of _water_ to the +hair is absolutely essential to its health, as it tends to relieve the +secretions and open the pores of the skin. The frequency of the use of +water, however, should be guided by circumstances. It may be set down as +a regulating principle, that the stronger and more healthy the hair may +be, the more water may be used with propriety; by the same rule, when +the hair is weak and thin, it should not be washed more than once +a-week. At such times, _cold water_ alone should be used, when care +should be taken to dry it well immediately after. Washing too often, +dries up the requisite oily fluid that forms the nourishment of the +hair. + +Some judgment is necessary in the choice of brushes. Two are necessary: +a penetrating and a polishing brush; the one composed of strong, and +the other of fine hair. The penetrating brush (especially that used by +ladies) should be made of elastic hairs, rather inclining to irregular +lengths. The other should be made of firm, soft, silken hair, thickly +studded. Unfortunately, however, we cannot but observe that penetrating +brushes are often selected, so harsh and strong, that they fret the skin +of the head, and injure the roots, instead of gently and gradually +effecting the object for which they were intended. + +Combs are merely used for the purpose of giving a form to the hair, and +assisting in its decorative arrangement; to use them too often, is +rather prejudicial than otherwise, as they injure the roots of the hair. +Above all kinds, that of the small-toothed comb is the most injurious in +this respect, as it not only inflames the tender skin, but, from the +fineness of its teeth, splits and crushes the hairs in being passed +through them. Persons must indeed be of very uncleanly habits, whose +heads absolutely require the aid of this comb, as the brush alone +sufficiently possesses the power of effectually cleaning the hair from +scurf, dandriff, and dust, if constantly used. + +To persons whose hair is in a declining state, the frequent and regular +use of oil or bear's grease is often of much service, as it is +calculated to assist in supplying that nourishment which is so +necessary. No oil perhaps has ever acquired a greater celebrity than +Rowland's Macassar; for this reason we cannot but recommend it to the +notice of our readers. + +One of the most pernicious methods of dressing the hair, at the expense +of its health, is by curling. This not only dries up the moisture that +circulates through the hairs, but the heat and compression thus used +completely prevent proper circulation. When, however, the habit is +persisted in, its ill effects may be much obviated by constantly +brushing the hair well, and having it frequently cut, by which means the +necessary circulation is kept up, and the roots invigorated. + + +THE HANDS. + +"Why don't my hands look and feel as it would seem that the perfect +Author of all things would have them?" How many a young man and woman +have asked this question! and are troubled to know why it is that some +persons have such bloodless hands, perfect nails, so free from +hang-nails, as they are called, while their own hands look so much like +duck's feet or bird's claws. + +All sorts of cosmetics, the most penetrating oils, rubbing and scouring +the hands, paring and scraping the nails, and cutting round the roots of +the nails, are resorted to, in hopes of making their hands appear +natural; but all avails nothing, and many a poor hand is made to perform +all its manipulations _incognito_. About the piano, in the social party, +in the house, and in the street, the hand--the most exquisite, or what +should be the most beautiful and useful part of the human frame--is +_gloved_. And why? Because it is not fit to be seen. + +Now, reader, I am about to tell you of a positive cure. In the first +place, never cut or scrape your finger-nails with a knife or scissors, +except in paring them down to the end of the fingers. Secondly, use +nothing but a good stiff nail-brush, fine soap, and water, and rub the +nails and hands briskly with these every morning the _year round_. In +the third place, I would have you know that surfeiting will invariably +produce heavy, burning hands. An impure state of the blood will manifest +itself in the hands sooner than in most other parts of the body. If you +have bad hands, be assured that the quantity or quality, or both, of +your diet is wrong. + +If you try to profit by these suggestions, you will, before one year +expires, be no longer ashamed of your hands. + + + + +DRESS. + + +There are some rules, which, being based on first principles, are of +universal application. And one of these belongs to our present subject, +_viz:_ nothing can be truly beautiful which is not appropriate. Nature +and the fine arts teach us this. All styles of dress, therefore, which +impede the motions of the wearer--which do not sufficiently protect the +person--which add unnecessarily to the heat of summer, or to the cold of +winter--which do not suit the age or occupations of the wearer, or which +indicate an expenditure unsuited to her means, are _inappropriate_, and, +therefore, destitute of one of the essential elements of beauty. +Propriety, or fitness, lies at the foundation of all good taste in +dressing; and to this test should be brought a variety of particulars, +too numerous to be mentioned, but which may be thus illustrated: The +dress that would be very proper on occasion of a morning visit in a +city, would be so out of place, if worn by the same person when making +preserves or pastry, or when scrambling through the bushes in a country +walk, that it would cease to look well. A simple calico gown and white +apron would be so much more convenient and suitable, that the wearer +would actually look better in them. + +Some persons, also, toil early and late, and strain every nerve to +procure an expensive garment, and think that once arrayed in it, they +shall look as well as some richer neighbor, whose style of dress they +wish to imitate. But they forget that, if it does not accord with their +general style of living--if it is out of harmony with other things, it +will so strike every body; and this want of fitness will prevent its +looking well on them. + +Let a true sense of propriety of the fitness of things regulate all your +habits of living and dressing, and it will produce such a beautiful +harmony and consistency of character, as to throw a charm around you +that all may feel, though few may comprehend. Always consider well +whether the articles of dress which you wish to purchase are suited to +your age--your condition--your means--to the climate--to the particular +use to which you mean to put them; and then let the principles of good +taste keep you from the extremes of fashion; and regulate the form so as +to combine utility and beauty, while the known rules of harmony in +colors save you from shocking the eye of the artist by incongruous +mixtures. + +The character is much more shown in the style of dress that is worn +every day, than in that which is designed for great occasions; and when +I see a young girl come down to the family breakfast in an untidy +wrapper, with her hair in papers, her feet slip-shod, and an old silk +handkerchief round her neck, I know that she cannot be the neat, +industrious, and refined person whom I should like for an inmate. I feel +equally certain, too, that her chamber is not kept in neat order, and +that she does not set a proper value upon time. However well a lady has +appeared at a party, I would recommend to a young gentleman--before he +makes up his mind as to her domestic qualities--to observe her +appearance at the breakfast-table, when she expects to see only her own +family; and, if it be such as I have just described, to beware how he +prosecutes the acquaintance. + + + + +COMPRESSION OF THE LUNGS. + + +Few circumstances are more injurious to beauty than the constrained +movement, suffused complexion, and labored respiration that betray +tight-lacing. The play of intelligence, and varied emotion, which throw +such a charm over the brow of youth, are impeded by whatever obstructs +the flow of blood from the heart to its many organs. In Greece, where +the elements of beauty and grace were earliest comprehended, and most +happily illustrated, the fine symmetry of the form was left untortured. + +But the influence of this habit on beauty is far less to be deprecated +than its effects upon health. That pulmonary disease, affections of the +heart, and insanity, are in its train, and that it leads some of our +fairest and dearest to Fashion's shrine to die, is placed beyond a doubt +by strong medical testimony. + +Dr. Mussey, whose "_Lectures on Intemperance_" have so forcibly arrested +the attention of the public, asserts that "greater numbers annually die +among the female sex, in consequence of tight-lacing, than are destroyed +among the other sex by the use of spirituous liquors in the same time." +Is it possible that thousands of our own sex, in our own native land, +lay, with their own hand, the foundation of diseases that destroy +life!--and are willing, for fashion's sake, to commit suicide! + +Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for the Insane, in +Connecticut, to whom science and philanthropy are indebted, adduces many +instances of the fearful effects of obstructed circulation on the brain. +Being requested by the instructress of a large female seminary to +enforce on her pupils the evils of compression in dress, he said, with +that eloquence of eye and soul, which none, who once felt their +influence, can ever forget: "The whole course of your studies, my dear +young ladies, conspires to impress you with reverence for antiquity. +Especially do you turn to Greece for the purest models in the fine arts, +and the loftiest precepts of philosophy. While sitting, as disciples, at +the feet of her men of august minds, you may have sometimes doubted how +to balance, or where to bestow your admiration. The acuteness of +Aristotle--the purity of Plato--the calm, unrepented satisfaction of +Socrates--the varied lore of Epicurus, and the lofty teachings of Zeno, +have alternately attracted or absorbed your attention. Permit me to +suppose, that the high-toned ethics of the Stoics, and their elevation +of mind, which could teach its frail companion, the body, the proud +lesson of insensibility to pain, have won your peculiar complaisance. +Yet, while meting out to them the full measure of your applause, have +you ever recollected that modern times--that your own country came in +competition for a share of fame! Has it occurred to you that your own +sex--even the most delicate and tender part of it--exceeded the ancient +Stoics in the voluntary infliction of pain, and extinction of pity? Yes; +some of the timid and beautiful members of this seminary may enter the +lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysippus, and cherish no slight hope +of victory. I trust to prove to you that the ancient and sublime Stoics +were very tyros in comparison with many a lady of our own times. In +degree of suffering, extent of endurance, and in perfection of +concealment, they must yield the palm. I do assure you, that, its most +illustrious masters--fruitful as they were in tests to try the +body--never invented, imagined, nor would have been able to sustain that +torture of tight-lacing which the modern belle steadily inflicts without +shrinking, and bears without repining sometimes to her very grave. True, +they might sometimes have broken a bone, or plucked out an eye, and been +silent; but they never grappled iron and whalebone into the very nerves +and life-blood of their system. They might possibly have passed a dagger +too deeply info the heart, and died; but they never drew a ligature of +suffocation around it, and _expected to live_! They never tied up the +mouths of the millions of air-vessels in the lungs, and then taxed them +to the full measure of action and respiration. Even Pharaoh only +demanded bricks without straw for a short time; but the fashionable lady +asks to live without breathing for many years! + +"The ancient Stoics taught that the nearest approach to apathy was the +perfection of their doctrine. They prudently rested in utter +indifference; they did not attempt to go beyond it; they did not claim +absolute denial of all suffering; still less did they enjoin to persist +and rejoice in it, even to the 'dividing asunder of soul and body.' In +this, too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady taking a flight beyond +the sublime philosopher. She will not admit that she feels the slightest +inconvenience. Though she has fairly won laurels to which no Stoic dared +aspire, yet she studiously disclaims the distinction which she faced +death to earn--yea, denies that she has either part of lot in the +matter; surpassing in modesty, as well as in desert, all that antiquity +can boast or history record." + +We quote the following from Miss Sedgwick: "One word as to these small +waists: Symmetry is essential to beauty of form. A waist +disproportionately small is a deformity to an instructed eye. Women must +have received their notions of small waists from ignorant dress-makers. +If young ladies could hear the remarks made on these small waists by men +generally, and especially men of taste, they would never again show +themselves till they had loosened their corset-laces and enlarged their +belts." + + + + +LETTER-WRITING. + + +It sometimes happens that, in fashionable penmanship, the circumstance +that it is _to be deciphered_ seems to have been forgotten. "To read so +as not to be understood, and to write so as not to be read, are among +the minor immoralities," says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More. Elegant +chirography, and a clear epistolary style, are accomplishments which +every educated female should possess. Their indispensable requisites +are, neatness, the power of being easily perused, orthographical and +grammatical correctness. Defects in either of these particulars, are +scarcely pardonable. The hand-writing is considered by many, one of the +talismans of character. Whether this test may be depended on or not, the +fact that letters travel farther than the sound of the voice, or the +sight of the countenance can follow, renders it desirable that they +should convey no incorrect or unfavorable impression. The lesser +niceties of folding, sealing, and superscription, are not beneath the +notice of a lady. + +Letter-writing is a subject of so varied and extensive a nature, that it +can scarcely be reduced to rules or taught by precept; but some +instructions respecting it may afford assistance in avoiding error, and +obtaining a degree of excellence in this most important exercise. + +When you write a letter to any person, express the same sentiments and +use the same language as you would do if you were conversing with him. +"Write eloquently," says Mr. Gray, "that is, from your heart, in such +expressions as that will furnish." + +Before you begin a letter, especially when it is on any occasion of +importance, weigh well in your own mind the design and purport of it; +and consider very attentively what sentiments are most proper for you to +express, and your correspondent to read. + +To assist invention and promote order, it may, as some writers on +epistolary composition recommend, occasionally be of use to make, in the +mind, a division of a letter into three parts, the beginning, middle, +and end; or, in other words, the exordium or introduction, the narration +or proposition, and the conclusion. The exordium, or introduction, +should be employed, not indeed with the formality of rhetoric, but with +the ease of genuine politeness and benevolence, in conciliating favor +and attention; the narration or proposition, in stating the business +with clearness and precision; the conclusion, in confirming what has +been premised, in making apologies where any are necessary, and in +cordial expressions of respect, esteem, or affection. + +Scrupulously adhere to the rules of grammar. Select and apply all your +words with a strict regard to their proper signification, and whenever +you have any doubts respecting the correctness or propriety of them, +consult a dictionary or some good living authority. Avoid, with +particular care, all errors in orthography, in punctuation, and in the +arrangement of words and phrases. + +Dashes, underlinings, and interlineations, are much used by unskillful +and careless writers, merely as substitutes for proper punctuation, and +a correct, regular mode of expression. The frequent recurrence of them +greatly defaces a letter, and is equally inconsistent with neatness of +appearance and regularity of composition. All occasion for +interlineations may usually be superseded by a little previous thought +and attention. Dashes are proper only when the sense evidently requires +a greater pause than the common stops designate. And in a +well-constructed sentence, to underline a word is wholly useless, except +on some very particular occasion we wish to attract peculiar attention +to it, or to give it an uncommon degree of importance or emphasis. + +Postscripts have a very awkward appearance, and they generally indicate +thoughtlessness and inattention. To make use of them in order to convey +assurances of respect to the person to whom you write, or to those who +are intimately connected with him, is particularly improper; it seems to +imply that the sentiments you express are so slightly impressed upon +your mind, that you had almost forgotten them or thought them scarcely +worth mentioning. + + + + +MUSIC. + + +This accomplishment, so popular at the present time, is a source of +surpassing delight to many minds. From its power to soothe the feelings +and modify the passions, it seems desirable to understand it, if it does +not involve too great expense of time. Vocal music is an accomplishment +within the reach of most persons. "I have a piano within myself," said a +little girl, "and I can play on that, if I have no other." + +An excellent clergyman, possessing much knowledge of human nature, +instructed his large family of daughters in the theory and practice of +music. They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable and happy. A +friend inquired if there was any secret in his mode of education. He +replied, "When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to them _sing_; +and, if I hear them speaking against any person, I call them to sing to +me, and so they have sung away all causes of discontent, and every +disposition to scandal." Such a use of this accomplishment might serve +to fit a family for the company of angels and the clime of praise. Young +voices around the domestic altar, breathing sacred music at the hour of +morning and evening devotions, are a sweet and touching accompaniment. + +Instrumental music, being more expensive in its attainment, both of +money and time, and its indifferent performance giving pain to those +of refined sensibility, seems scarcely desirable to be cultivated, +unless the impulse of native taste prompts or justifies the labor. The +spirited pen of Miss Martineau, in her "Five First Years of Youth," has +sketched a pleasing description of a young lady, possessing a strong +predilection for music. "She sang much and often, not that she had any +particular aim at being very accomplished, but because she loved it, or, +as she said, because she could not help it. She sang to Nurse Rickham's +children; she sang as she went up and down stairs; she sang when she was +glad, and when she was sorry; when her father was at home, because he +liked it; and when he was out, because he could not be disturbed by it. +In the woods, at noonday, she sang like a bird, that a bird might answer +her; and, if she awoke in the dark night, the feeling of solemn music +came over her, with which she dared not break the silence." + +Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt that opportunities for its +improvement should be gladly accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems +cause of regret, when time, perhaps health, are sacrificed to the +accomplishment. Even where a tolerable performance of instrumental music +might probably be attained, without the prompting of decided taste, +there may be danger of absorbing too much of time and attention from +those employments which a female ought to understand and will be +expected to discharge, and which are in reality of far greater +importance. + + + + +FLOWERS. + + + "Who does not love a flower + Its hues are taken from the light + Which summer's suns fling, pure and bright, + In scatter'd and prismatic hues, + That smile and shine in drooping dews; + Its fragrance from the sweetest air-- + Its form from all that's light and fair-- + Who does not love a flower?" + + +In the two great floral kingdoms of nature, the botanical and the human, +if we must yield the palm to that which is alike transcendent in the +beauty of form and motion, and in the higher attributes of intelligence, +innocence, and rural perfection, yet it can be no derogation to admire, +with a rapture bordering upon enthusiasm, the splendid products of the +garden; and especially when their beauties are combined and arranged +with an exquisite and refined taste. What is the heart made of which can +find no sentiment in flowers! In the dahlia, for example, we see what +can be done by human skill and art, in educating and training a simple +and despised plant, scarcely thought worthy of cultivation, to the +highest rank of gayety and glory in the aristocracy of flowers. We may +learn, from such success, a lesson of encouragement, in the education +and training of flowers, of an infinitely higher value and perfection. + +The vast creation of God--the centre and source of good--is every where +radiant with beauty. From the shell that lies buried in the depths of +the ocean, to the twinkling star that floats in the more profound depths +of the firmament--through all the forms of material and animated +existence, beauty, beauty, beauty prevails! In the floral kingdom, it +appears in an infinite variety--in an unstinted and even a richer +profusion than in other departments of nature. While these contributions +are thrown out so lavishly at our feet, and a taste for flowers seems +almost an instinct of nature, and is one of the most innocent and +refined sentiments which we can cultivate, let us indulge and gratify it +to the utmost extent, whenever leisure, opportunity, and fortune give us +the means. There is no danger of an excess, under those reasonable +restrictions which all our sentiments demand. + +"But," says some cynical objector, "flowers are only to please the eye." +And why should not the eye be pleased? What sense may be more innocently +gratified? They are among the most simple and cheapest luxuries in which +we ever indulge. + +The taste for flowers--every where increasing among us--is an omen of +good. Let us adorn our parlors, door-ways, yards, and road-sides with +trees, and shrubs, and flowers. What a delight do they give to the +passer-by! What favorable impressions do they, at once, excite towards +those who cultivate them for their own gratification, and find, after +all, their chief pleasure in the gratification which they afford to +others! What an affecting charm--associated as it is with some of the +best sentiments of our nature--do they give to the sad dwelling-places +of the departed and beloved! + + + + +TIME. + + + "I saw the leaves gliding down a brook; + Swift the brook ran, and bright the sun burned: + The sere and the verdant, the same course they took-- + And sped gayly and fast--but they never returned. + And I thought how the years of a man pass away-- + Threescore and ten--and then where are they?" + + +"Threescore years and ten," thought I to myself, as I walked, one rainy +morning, as a sailor walks the quarter-deck, up and down a short alcove, +extending before the windows of a modern house. It was one of those days +in June, in which our summer-hopes take umbrage at what we call +unseasonable weather, though no season was ever known to pass without +them. Unlike the rapid and delightful showers of warmer days, suddenly +succeeding to the sunshine, when the parched vegetables and arid earth +seize with avidity, and imbibe the moisture ere it becomes unpleasant to +our feelings, there had fallen a drizzling rain throughout the night; +the saturated soil returned to the atmosphere the humidity it could no +longer absorb; and there it hung, in chilling thickness, between rain +and fog. The birds did not sing, and the flowers did not open, for the +cold drop was on their cheek, and no sunbeam was there to expand them. +Nature itself wore the garb of sadness, and man's too dependent spirits +were ready to assume it--those, at least, that were not so happy as to +find means of forgetting it. Such was the case with my unfortunate self. + +I had descended to the breakfast-room, at the usual hour, but no one +appeared; I looked for a book, but found none but an almanac. The books +were kept in the library--beyond all dispute their proper place, had I +not been in a humor to think otherwise. The house was too hot, and the +external air was too cold; and I was fain to betake myself to that last +resort of the absolutely idle--a mechanical movement of the body up and +down a given space. And, from the alcove where I walked, I heard the +ticking of the timepiece; and, as I passed the window, I saw the hands +advance; every time I had returned, they had gone a little farther. +"Threescore years and ten," said I to myself; "and a third or fourth of +it is nature's claim for indispensable repose--and many a day consumed +on the bed of sickness--and many a year by the infirmities of age--and +some part of all necessarily sacrificed to the recruiting of the health +by exercise. And what do we with the rest?" Nothing answered me but the +ticking of the clock, of which the hands were traversing between eight +and nine. They had nearly met, at the appointed hour, when the party +began to assemble within; and each one commenced, for aught I could +discover, the functions of the day, for neither their appearance nor +their remarks gave any intimation that they had been previously +employed. One, indeed, declared the weather made her so idle she had +scarcely found strength to dress herself; another confessed he had +passed an additional hour in bed, because the day promised him so little +to do up. One by one, as they dropped in, the seats at the +breakfast-table were filled; and, as a single newspaper was all the +apparent means of mental occupation, I anticipated some interesting +conversation. + +I waited and I watched. One ran the point of his fork into the +table-cloth; another balanced her spoon on the tea-cup; a third told +backwards and forwards the rings on her fingers, as duly as a friar +tells his beads. As such actions sometimes are the symptoms of mental +occupation, I began to anticipate the brilliant results of so much +thinking. I cried, hem! in hopes to rouse them to expression--and not +quite unsuccessfully: for one remarked, it was a wretched day; another +wished it was fine; and a third hoped it shortly would be so. Meantime, +the index of the clock went round; it was gaining close upon ten before +all had withdrawn from the table. My eye followed one to the +window-place; where, with her back to the wall, and her eyes fixed +without, she passed a full half hour in gazing at the prospect without, +or wishing, perhaps, the mist did not prevent her seeing it. A very +young lady was so busy in pulling the dead leaves from a geranium, and +crumbling them in her fingers, I could not doubt but some important +purpose was in the task. A third resumed the newspaper he had read for a +whole hour before, and betook himself, at last, to the advertisements. A +fourth repaired to the alcove, gathered some flowers, picked them to +pieces, threw them away again, and returned. "Cease thy prating, thou +never-resting time-piece!" said I to myself, "for no one heeds thy tale. +What is it to us that each one of thy tickings cuts a link from our +brief chain of life? Time is the gift of Heaven, but man has no use for +it!" + +I had scarcely thought out the melancholy reflection, when a young lady +entered with an elegant work-box, red without and blue within, and +filled with manifold conveniences for the pursuance of her art. Glad was +I most truly at the sight. By the use of the needle, the naked may be +clothed; ingenuity may economize her means, and have more to spare for +those who need it; invention may multiply the ways of honest +subsistence, and direct the ignorant to the use of them. Most glad was +I, therefore, that the signal of industry drew more than one wanderer to +the same pursuit, though not till much time had been consumed in going +in and out, and up and down, in search of the materials. All were found +at last; the party worked, and I, as usual, listened. "I think this +trimming," said one, "will repay me for my trouble, though it has cost +me three months' work already, and it will be three months more before +it is finished." "Indeed!" rejoined her friend; "I wish I were half as +industrious; but I have been working six weeks at this handkerchief, and +have not had time to finish it: now the fashion is passed, and I shall +not go on." "How beautifully you are weaving that necklace! Is it not +very tedious?" "Yes, almost endless; but I delight in the work, +otherwise I should not do it, for the beads cost almost as much as I +could buy it for." "I should like to begin one this morning," interposed +a fourth, "but the milliner has sent home my bonnet so ill-trimmed, it +will take me all the day to alter it: the bow is on the wrong side, and +the trimming on the edge is too broad. It is very tiresome to spend all +one's life in altering things we pay so much for." "I wish," said a +little girl at the end of the table, "that I might work some trimmings +for my frock, but I am obliged to do this plain work first. The poor +lame girl in the village, who is almost starving, would do it for me for +a shilling, but I must save my allowance this week to buy a French +trinket I have taken a fancy to." "Poor thing! she is much to be +pitied," said the lady of the trimming; "if I had time, I would make her +some clothes." + +And so they worked, and so they talked, till I and the time-piece had +counted many an hour which they took no account of, when one of them +yawned, and said, "How tedious are these wet days; it is really +impossible to spin out one's time without a walk." "I am surprised you +find it so," rejoined the lady of the beads; "I can rarely take time +for walking, though keeping the house makes me miserably languid." + +And so the morning passed. It was nearly two o'clock, and the company +dispersed to their apartments. I pretend not to know what they did +there; but each one returned between three and four in an altered dress. +And then half an hour elapsed, in which, as I understood from their +impatience, they were waiting for dinner; each in turn complaining of +the waste of time occasioned by its delay, and the little use it would +be to go about any thing when it was so near. And as soon as dinner was +over, they began to wait for tea with exactly the same complainings. And +the tea came, and, cheered by the vivifying draught, one did repair to +the instrument, and began a tune; one did take up a pencil, and prepare +to draw; and one almost opened a book. But, alas! the shades of night +were growing fast:--ten minutes had scarcely elapsed, before each one +resigned her occupation, with a murmur at the darkness of the weather; +and, though some persons suggested that there were such things as lamps +and candles, it was agreed to be a pity to have lights so early in the +midst of summer, and so another half hour escaped. + +The lights, when they came, would have failed to relumine an expectation +in my bosom, had not their beams disclosed the forms of various books, +which one and another had brought in for the evening's amusement. Again +I watched and again I listened. "I wish I had something to do, mamma," +said the little girl. "Why do you not take a book, and read?" rejoined +her mother. "My books are all up stairs," she replied; "and it is so +near bedtime, it is not worth while to bring them down." "This is the +best novel I ever read," said a lady, somewhat older, turning the leaves +over so very fast, that those who are not used to this manner of +reading, might suppose she found nothing in it worthy of attention. "I +dare say it is," said another, whose eyes had been fixed for half an +hour on the same page of Wordsworth's Poems; "but I have no time to read +novels." "I wish I had time to read any thing," said a third, whom I had +observed already to have been perusing attentively the title-page of +every book on the table, publisher's name, date, and all; while a fourth +was too intensely engaged in studying the blue cover of a magazine, to +make any remark whatever. + +And now I was much amused to perceive with what frequency eyes were +turned upon the dial-plate, through all the day so little regarded. +Watches were drawn out, compared, and pronounced too slow. With some +difficulty, one was found that had outrun its fellows, and, determined +to be right, gave permission to the company to disperse, little more +than twelve hours from the time of their assembling, to recover, as I +supposed, during the other twelve, dressing and undressing included, the +effect of their mental and bodily exertions. + +"So!" I exclaimed, as soon as I found myself alone, "twelve times round +yonder dial-plate those little hands have stolen, and twelve times more +they may now go round unheeded. They who are gone to rest, have a day +less to live, and record has been made in heaven of that day's use. Will +He who gave, ask no reckoning for his gifts? The time, the thoughts, the +talents; the improvement we might have made, and made not; the good we +might have done, and did not; the health, and strength, and intellect, +that may not be our's to-morrow, and have not been used to-day; will not +conscience whisper of it ere they sleep to-night? The days of man were +shortened upon earth by reason of the wickedness the Creator saw. +Threescore years and ten are now his portion, and often not half the +number. They pause not; they loiter not: the hours strike on, and they +may even go, for it seems they are all too much." + +The young, with minds as yet unstored, full of error, full of ignorance +in all that it behooves them most to know, unfit alike as yet for earth +or heaven--the old, whose sum of life is almost told, and but a brief +space remaining to repair their mistakes and redeem the time they have +lost--the simple and ungifted, who, having from nature but little, need +the more assiduity to fulfill their measure of usefulness, and make that +little do the most it may--the clever and highly talented, who have an +almost appalling account to render for the much received--they all have +time to waste. But let them remember, time is not their own; not a +moment of it; but is the grant of Heaven; and Heaven gives nothing +without a purpose and an end. Every hour that is wasted, fails of that +purpose; and in so far as it is wasted or ill-spent, the gift of Heaven +is misused, and the misuse is to be answered for. Methinks I would be +allowed to whisper nightly in the ears of my young friends as they lie +down to rest, "How many minutes have you lost to-day, that might have +been employed in your own improvement, in our Maker's service, or for +your fellow-creature's good?" + + + + +NOVEL-READING. + + +Novel-reading produces a morbid appetite for excitement. The object of +the novelist, generally, is to produce the highest possible degree of +excitement, both of the mind and the passions. The object is very +similar to that of intoxicating liquors on the body: hence, the +confirmed novel-reader becomes a kind of _literary inebriate_, to whom +the things of _entity_ have no attractions, and whose thirst cannot be +slaked, even with the water of life. And as intoxication enfeebles the +body, and engenders indolent habits, so this unnatural stimulus +enfeebles the intellectual powers, induces mental indolence, and unfits +the mind for vigorous efforts. Nothing less stimulating than its +accustomed aliment can rouse such a mind to action, or call forth its +energies; and then, being under the influence of mental intoxication, +which dethrones reason and destroys the power of self-control, they are +always misdirected. + +It also promotes a sickly sensibility. Dr. Brigham, speaking of the too +powerful excitement of the female mind, says: "In them the nervous system +naturally predominates. They are endowed with quicker sensibility and +far more active imagination than men. Their emotions are more intense, +and their senses alive to more delicate impressions. They therefore +require great attention, lest this exquisite sensibility--which, when +properly and naturally developed, constitutes the greatest excellence of +woman--should either become excessive by too strong excitement, or +suppressed by misdirected education." Novel-reading produces just the +kind of excitement calculated to develop this excessive and diseased +sensibility; and the effect is, to fill the mind with imaginary fears, +and produce excessive alarm and agitation at the prospect of danger, the +sight of distress, or the presence of unpleasant objects; while no place +is found for the exercise of genuine sympathy for real objects of +compassion. That sensibility which weeps over imaginary woes of imaginary +beings, calls forth but imaginary sympathy. It is too refined to be +excited by the _vulgar_ objects of compassion presented in real life, or +too excitable to be of any avail in the relief of real distress. It may +faint at the sight of blood, but it will shrink back from binding up the +wound. If you wish to become weak-headed, nervous, and good for nothing, +read novels. I have seen an account of a young lady, who had become so +nervous and excitable, in consequence of reading novels, that her head +would be turned by the least appearance of danger, real or imaginary. As +she was riding in a carriage over a bridge, in company with her mother +and sister, she became frightened at some fancied danger, caught hold of +the reins, and backed the carriage off the bridge, down a precipice, +dashing them to pieces. + +This excessive sensibility renders its possessor exquisitely alive to +all those influences which are unfriendly to human happiness, while it +diminishes the power of endurance. Extreme sensibility, especially in a +female, is a great misfortune, rendering the ills of life insupportable. +Great care should therefore be taken that, while genuine sensibility is +cherished, its extremes should be avoided, and the mind fortified by +strengthening the higher powers. + +Novel-reading strengthens the passions, weakens the virtues, and +diminishes the power of self-control. Multitudes may date their ruin +from the commencement of this kind of reading; and many more, who have +been rescued from the snare, will regret, to the end of their days, its +influence in the early formation of their character. + +It is, too, a great waste of time. Few will pretend that they read +novels with any higher end in view than _mere amusement_; while, by the +strong excitement they produce, they impose a heavier tax on both mind +and body than any other species of mental effort. If any thing valuable +is to be derived from them, it can be obtained with far less expense of +time, and with safety to the morals, from other sources. No Christian, +who feels the obligation of "redeeming the time, because the days are +evil," will fail to feel the force of this remark. We have no more right +to squander our time and waste our energies in frivolous pursuits, than +we have to waste our money in extravagant expenditures. We are as much +the stewards of God in respect to the one as the other. + + + + +FEMALE ROMANCE. + + +Most women are inclined to be romantic. This tendency is not confined to +the young or to the beautiful, to the intellectual or to the refined. +Every woman, capable of strong feeling, is susceptible of romance; and, +though its degree may depend on external circumstances, or education, or +station, or excitement, it generally exists, and requires only a +stimulus for its development. + +Romance indeed contributes much to the charm of the female character. +Without some degree of it, no woman can be interesting; and, though its +excess is a weakness, and one which receives but little indulgence, +there is nothing truly generous and disinterested which does not imply +its existence. It is that poetry of sentiment which imparts to character +or incident something of the beautiful or the sublime; which elevates us +to a higher sphere; which gives an ardor to affection, a life to +thought, a glow to imagination; and which lends so warm and sunny a hue +to the portraiture of life, that it ceases to appear the vulgar, and +cold, and dull, and monotonous reality, which common sense alone would +make it. + +But it is this opposition, between romance and sobriety, that excites +so strong a prejudice against the former: it is associated, in the minds +of many, with folly alone. A romantic, silly girl, is the object of +their contempt; and they so recoil from this personification of +sentiment, that their chief object seems to be to divest themselves +altogether of its delusion. Life is to them a mere calculation; +expediency is their maxim; propriety their rule; profit, ease, or +comfort their aim; and they have at least this advantage, that while +minds of higher tone and hearts of superior sensibility are often +harassed and wounded, and even withered, in their passage through life, +they proceed in their less adventurous career, neither chilled by the +coldness, nor sickened by the meanness, nor disappointed by the +selfishness of the world. They virtually admit, though they often +theoretically deny, the baseness of human nature; and, strangers to +disinterestedness themselves, they do not expect to meet with it in +others. They are content with a low degree of enjoyment, and are thus +exempted from much poignant suffering; and it is only when the +casualties of life interfere with their individual ease, that we can +perceive that they are not altogether insensible. + +A good deal of this phlegmatic disposition exists in many who are +capable of higher feeling. Such persons are so afraid of sensibility, +that they repress in themselves every thing that savors of it; and, +though we may occasionally detect it in the mounting flush, or in the +glistening tear, or in the half-stifled sigh, it is in vain that we +endeavor to elicit any more explicit avowal. They are ashamed even of +what they do betray; and one would imagine that the imputation of +sensibility were almost a reflection on their character. They must not +feel, or, at least, they must not allow that they feel; for feeling has +led so many persons wrong, that decorum can be preserved, they think, +only by indifference. And they end in being really as callous as they +wish to appear, and stifle emotion so successfully, that at length it +ceases to give them uneasiness. + +Such is often the case with many who pass through life with great +decorum; and though women have naturally more sensibility than the other +sex, they, too, sometimes consider its indulgence altogether wrong. Yet, +if its excess is foolish, it is surely a mistake to attempt to suppress +it altogether; for such attempt will either produce a dangerous +revulsion, or, if successful, will spoil the character. One would rather +almost that a woman were ever so romantic, than that she always thought, +and felt, and spoke by rule; and should deem it preferable that her +sensibility brought upon her occasional distress, than that she always +calculated the degree of her feeling. + +Life has its romance, and to this it owes much of its charm. It is not +that every woman is a heroine and every individual history a novel; but +there are scenes and incidents in real life so peculiar, and so poetic, +that we need not be indebted to fiction for the development of romance. +Christians will trace such scenes and incidents immediately to +Providence, and they do so with affectionate and confiding hearts; and +the more affecting or remarkable these may be, the more clearly do they +recognize the Divine interference. They regard them as remembrances of +Heaven, to recall to them their connection with it, and remind them that +whatever there may be to interest or excite their feelings here, there +is infinitely more to affect and warm their hearts in the glorious +prospects beyond. + +It is natural that women should be very susceptible to such impressions; +that they should view life with almost a poetic eye; and that they +should be peculiarly sensitive to its vicissitudes. And though a +Quixotic quest after adventures is as silly as it is vain, and to invest +every trifle with importance, or to see something marvelous in every +incident, is equally absurd; there is no reason why the imagination +should not grasp whatever is picturesque, and the mind dwell upon +whatever is impressive, and the heart warm with whatever is affecting, +in the changes and the chances of our pilgrimage. There is indeed a +great deal of what is mean and low in all that is connected with this +world; quite enough to sully the most glowing picture; but let us +sometimes view life with its golden tints; let us sometimes taste its +ambrosial dews; let us sometimes breathe its more ethereal atmosphere; +and let us do so, not as satisfied with any thing it can afford--not as +entranced by any of its illusions--but as those who catch, even in this +dull mirror, a shadowy delineation of a brighter world, and who pant +for what is pure, celestial, and eternal. This is surely better than +clipping the wings of imagination, or restraining the impulses of +feeling, or reducing all our joys and sorrows to mere matters of +calculation or of sense. + +They are indeed to be pitied who are in the opposite extreme--whose +happiness or misery is entirely ideal; but we have within us such a +capacity for both, independent of all outward circumstances, and such a +power of extracting either from every circumstance, that it is surely +more wise to discipline such a faculty, than to disallow its influence. + +Youth is of course the season for romance. Its buoyant spirit must soar +till weighed down by earthly care. It is in youth that the feelings are +warm and the fancy fresh, and that there has been no blight to chill the +one or to wither the other. And it is in youth that hope lends its +cheering ray, and love its genial influence; that our friends smile upon +us, our companions do not cross us, and our parents are still at hand to +cherish us in their bosoms, and sympathize in all our young and ardent +feelings. It is then that the world seems so fair, and our fellow-beings +so kind, that we charge with spleen any who would prepare us for +disappointment, and accuse those of misanthropy who would warn our +too-confiding hearts. And though, in maturer life, we may smile at the +romance of youth, and lament, perhaps, its aberrations, yet we shall not +regret the depth of our young emotions, the disinterestedness of our +young affections, and that enthusiasm of purpose, which, alas! we soon +grow too wise to cherish. + + + + +BEHAVIOR TO GENTLEMEN. + + +What a pity it is that the thousandth chance of a gentleman's becoming +your lover should deprive you of the pleasure of a free, unembarrassed, +intellectual intercourse with all the single men of your acquaintance! +Yet, such is too commonly the case with young ladies who have read a +great many novels and romances, and whose heads are always running on +love and lovers. + +Where, as in this country, there is a fair chance of every woman's being +married who wishes it, the more things are left to their natural course +the better. Where girls are brought up to be good daughters and sisters, +to consider the development of their own intellectual and moral natures +as the great business of life, and to view matrimony as a good, only +when it comes unsought, and marked by such a fitness of things, inward +and outward, as shows it to be one of the appointments of God, they will +fully enjoy their years of single life, free from all anxiety about +being established, and will generally be the first sought in marriage by +the wise and good of the other sex; whereas those who are brought up to +think the great business of life is to get married, and who spend their +lives in plans and manoeuvres to bring it about, are the very ones +who remain single, or, what is worse, make unhappy matches. + +Very young girls are apt to suppose, from what they observe in older +ones, that there is some peculiar manner to be put on in talking to +gentlemen, and not knowing exactly what it is, they are embarrassed and +reserved; others observe certain airs and looks, used by their elders in +this intercourse, and try to imitate them as a necessary part of company +behavior, and so become affected, and lose that first of +charms--simplicity, naturalness. To such I would say, your companions +are in error; it requires no peculiar manner, nothing to be put on, in +order to converse with gentlemen any more than with ladies; and the more +pure and elevated your sentiments are, and the better cultivated your +intellect is, the easier will you find it to converse pleasantly with +all. If, however, you happen to have no facility in expressing yourself, +and you find it very difficult to converse with persons whom you do not +know well, you can still be an intelligent and agreeable listener, and +you can show by your ready smile of sympathy that you would be sociable +if you could. There is no reason in the world why any one, who is not +unhappy, should sit in the midst of gay companions with a face so solemn +and unmoved, that she should seem not to belong to the company; that she +should look so glum and forbidding that strangers should feel repulsed, +and her best friends disappointed. If you cannot look entertained and +pleasant, you had better stay away, for politeness requires some +expression of sympathy in the countenance, as much as a civil answer on +the tongue. + +Never condescend to use any little arts or manoeuvres to secure a +pleasant beau at a party, or during an excursion; remember that a woman +must always wait to be chosen, and "not unsought be won," even for an +hour. When you are so fortunate as to be attended by the most agreeable +gentleman present, do not make any effort to keep him entirely to +yourself; that flatters him too much, and exposes you to be joked about. + +How strange a thing it is, in the constitution of English and American +society, that the subject, of all others the most important and the most +delicate, should be that on which every body is most given to joke and +banter their friends! Much mischief has been done by this coarse +interference of the world, in what ought to be the most private and +sacred of our earthly concerns; and every refined, delicate, and +high-minded girl should set her face against it, and, by scrupulously +refraining from such jokes herself, give no one a right to indulge in +them at her expense. + +As soon as young ladies go into general society, they are liable to +receive attentions that indicate a particular regard, and, long before +they are really old enough to form any such ties, they often receive +matrimonial overtures; it is therefore highly necessary to know how to +treat them. The offer of a man's heart and hand is the greatest +compliment he can pay you, and, however undesirable to you those gifts +may be, they should be courteously and kindly declined; and since a +refusal is, to most men, not only a disappointment, but a mortification, +it should always be prevented, if possible. Men have various ways of +cherishing and declaring their attachment; those who indicate the bias +of their feelings in many intelligible ways, before they make a direct +offer, can generally be spared the pain of a refusal. If you do not mean +to accept a gentleman who is paying you very marked attentions, you +should avoid receiving him whenever you can; you should not allow him to +escort you; you should show your displeasure when joked about him; and, +if sounded by a mutual friend, let your want of reciprocal feelings be +very apparent. + +You may, however, be taken entirely by surprise, because there are men +who are so secret in these matters that they do not let even the object +of their affections suspect their preference, until they suddenly +declare themselves lovers and suitors. In such a case as that, you will +need all your presence of mind, or the hesitation produced by surprise +may give rise to false hopes. If you have any doubt upon the matter, you +may fairly ask time to consider of it, on the grounds of your never +having thought of the gentleman in the light of a lover before; but, if +you are resolved against the suit, endeavor to make your answer so +decided as to finish the affair at once. Inexperienced girls sometimes +feel so much the pain they are inflicting, that they use phrases which +feed a lover's hopes; but this is mistaken tenderness; your answer +should be as decided as it is courteous. + +Whenever an offer is made in writing, you should reply to it as soon as +possible; and, having in this case none of the embarrassment of a +personal interview, you can make such a careful selection of words as +will best convey your meaning. If the person is estimable, you should +express your sense of his merit, and your gratitude for his preference, +in strong terms; and put your refusal of his hand on the score of your +not feeling for him that peculiar preference necessary to the union he +seeks. This makes a refusal as little painful as possible, and soothes +the feelings you are obliged to wound. The gentleman's letter should be +returned in your reply, and your lips should be closed upon the subject +for ever afterwards. It is his secret, and you have no right to tell it +to any one; but, if your parents are your confidential friends on all +other occasions, he will not blame you for telling them. + +Never think the less of a man because he has been refused, even if it be +by a lady whom you do not highly value. It is nothing to his +disadvantage. In exercising their prerogative of making the first +advances, the wisest will occasionally make great mistakes, and the best +will often be drawn into an affair of this sort against their better +judgment, and both are but too happy if they escape with only the pain +of being refused. So far from its being any reason for not accepting a +wise and good man when he offers himself to you, it should only +increase your thankfulness to the overruling providence of God, which +reserved him for you, through whose instrumentality he is still free to +choose. + +There is no sure remedy for disappointed affection but vital religion; +that giving of the heart to God which enables a disciple to say, "Whom +have I in heaven but Thee, and there is none on earth that I desire in +comparison of Thee." The cure for a wounded heart, which piety affords, +is so complete, that it makes it possible for the tenderest and most +constant natures to love again. When a character is thus disciplined and +matured, its sympathies will be called forth only by superior minds; +and, if a kindred spirit presents itself as a partner for life, and is +accepted, the union is likely to be such as to make the lady rejoice +that her former predilection was overruled. + + + + +MARRIAGE. + + +Some young persons indulge a fastidiousness of feeling in relation to +this subject, as though it were indelicate to speak of it. Others make +it the principal subject of their thoughts and conversation; yet they +seem to think it must never be mentioned but in jest. Both these +extremes should be avoided. Marriage is an ordinance of God, and +therefore a proper subject of thought and discussion, with reference to +personal duty. It is a matter of great importance, having a direct +bearing upon the glory of God and the happiness of individuals. It +should, therefore, never be approached with levity. But, as it requires +no more attention than what is necessary in order to understand present +duty, it would be foolish to make it a subject of constant thought, and +silly to make it a common topic of conversation. It is a matter which +should be weighed deliberately and seriously by every young person. It +was ordained by the Lord at the creation, as suited to the state of man +as a social being, and necessary to the design for which he was created. +There is a sweetness and comfort in the bosom of one's own family which +can be enjoyed no where else. In early life this is supplied by our +youthful companions, who feel in unison with us. But as a person who +remains single, advances in life, the friends of his youth form new +attachments, in which he is incapable of participating. Their feelings +undergo a change, of which he knows nothing. He is gradually left alone. +No heart beats in unison with his own. His social feelings wither for +want of an object. As he feels not in unison with those around him, his +habits also become peculiar, and perhaps repulsive, so that his company +is not desired; hence arises the whimsical attachments of such persons +to domestic animals, or to other objects that can be enjoyed in +solitude. As the dreary winter of age advances, the solitude of this +condition becomes still more chilling. Nothing but that sweet +resignation to the will of God, which religion gives, under all +circumstances, can render such a situation tolerable. But religion does +not annihilate the social affections; it only regulates them. It is +evident, then, by a lawful and proper exercise of these affections, both +our happiness and usefulness may be greatly increased. + +On the other hand, do not consider marriage as _absolutely essential_. +Although it is an ordinance of God, yet he has not absolutely enjoined +it upon all. You _may_, therefore, be in the way of duty while +neglecting it. And the apostle Paul intimates that there may be, with +those who enter this state, a greater tendency of heart toward earthly +objects. There is also an increase of care. "The unmarried woman careth +for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy, both in body and +spirit; but she that is married, careth for the things of the world, +how she may please her husband." But much more has been made of this +than the apostle intended. It has been greatly perverted and abused by +the church of Rome. It must be observed that, in the same chapter, he +advises that "every man have his own wife and every woman her own +husband." And, whatever may be our condition in life, if we seek it with +earnestness and perseverance, God will give us grace sufficient for the +day. But, he says, though it is no sin to marry, nevertheless, "such +shall have trouble in the flesh." It is undoubtedly true that the +enjoyments of conjugal life have their corresponding difficulties and +trials; and if these are enhanced by an unhappy connection, the +situation is insufferable. For this reason, I would have you avoid the +conclusion that marriage is indispensable to happiness. Single life is +certainly to be preferred to a connection with a person who will +diminish instead of increase your happiness. However, the remark of the +apostle, "such shall have trouble in the flesh," doubtless had reference +chiefly to the peculiar troubles of the times, when Christians were +exposed to persecutions, the loss of goods, and even of life itself, for +Christ's sake; the trials of which would be much greater in married than +in single life. + + + + +MARRIAGE HYMN. + + + Not for the summer hour alone, + When skies resplendent shine, + And youth and pleasure fill the throne, + Our hearts and hands we join; + + But for those stern and wintry days + Of sorrow, pain, and fear, + When Heaven's wise discipline doth make + Our earthly journey drear. + + Not for this span of life alone, + Which like a blast doth fly, + And, as the transient flower of grass, + Just blossom--droop, and die; + + But for a being without end, + This vow of love we take; + Grant us, O God! one home at last, + For our Redeemer's sake. + + + + +FEMALE INFLUENCE. + + +Writers of fiction have not unfrequently selected this topic as the +theme for poetry and romance; they have extolled woman as the being +whose eloquence was to soften all the asperities of man, and polish the +naturally rugged surface of his character; charming away his sternness +by her grace; refining his coarseness by her elegance and purity; and +offering in her smiles a reward sufficient to compensate for the hazards +of any enterprise. But while the self-complacency and vanity of many of +our sex have been nourished by such idle praise, how few have been +awakened to a just sense of the deep responsibility which rests upon us, +for the faithful improvement of this talent, and our consequent +accountability for its neglect or perversion! + +It were not a little amusing, if it were not so melancholy, to listen to +the reasoning employed by many ladies, in evading any charges of +non-improvement of this trust. She who perhaps but a moment before may +have listened with the utmost self-complacency to the flattering strains +of the poet, who had invested her sex with every charm calculated to +render them ministering angels to ruder and sterner man, no sooner finds +herself addressed as the possessor of a talent, implying +responsibility, and imposing self-exertion and self-denial in its +exercise, than she instantly disclaims, with capricious diffidence, all +pretensions to influence over others. But we cannot avert accountability +by disclaiming its existence; neither will the disavowal of the +possession of a talent alter the constitution of our nature, which God +has so formed and so fitted to produce impressions in, and receive them +from, kindred minds, that it is impossible for us to _exist_ without +exerting a continual and daily influence over others; either of a +pernicious or salutary character. + +"Woman," to use the words of an accomplished living writer, "has been +sent on a higher mission than man; it may be a more arduous, a more +difficult one. It is to manifest and bring to a full development certain +attributes which belong, it is true, to our common nature, but which, +owing to man's peculiar relation to the external world, he could not so +well bring to perfection. Man is sent forth to subdue the earth, to +obtain command over the elements, to form political communities; and to +him, therefore, belong the more hardy and austere virtues; and as they +are made subservient to the relief of our physical wants, and as their +results are more obvious to the senses, it is not surprising that they +have acquired in his eyes an importance which does not in strictness +belong to them. But humility, meekness, gentleness, love, are also +important attributes of our nature, and it would present a sad and +melancholy aspect without them. But let us ask, will man, with his +present characteristic propensities, thrown much more than woman, by his +immediate duties, upon material things; obliged to be conversant with +objects of sense, and exposed to the rude conflicts which this leads to; +will he bring out these virtues in their _full_ beauty and strength? We +think not--even with the assistance which religion promises. These +principles, with many others linked with them, have been placed more +particularly in the keeping of woman; her social condition being +evidently more favorable to their full development." + +Let us ever remember that every aggregate number, however great, is +composed of units; and of course, were _each_ American female but +faithful to her God, to her family, and to her country, then would a +mighty, sanctified influence go forth through the wide extent of our +beloved land, diffusing moral health and vigor through every part, and +strengthening it for the endurance of greater trials than have as yet +menaced its existence. A spirit of insubordination and rebellion to +lawful authority pervades our land; and where are these foes effectually +to be checked, if not at their fountain head--in the nursery? Oh! if +every American mother had but labored faithfully in that sacred +inclosure, from the period of our revolutionary struggle, by teaching +her children the great lesson of practical obedience to parental +authority; then would submission to constituted authority, as well as to +the will of God, have been far more prevalent in our land, and the +whole aspect of her affairs would have been widely different. + +How much more honorable to woman is such a position, than that in which +some modern reformers have endeavored to place her, or rather _force_ +her. Instead of seeking hopelessly, and in direct opposition to the +delicacy of her sex, to obtain for her political privileges; instead of +bringing her forward as the competitor of man in the public arena; we +would mark out for her a sphere of duty that is widely different. In the +domestic circle, "her station should be at man's side, to comfort, to +encourage, to assist;" while, in the Christian temple, we would assign +her an ennobling, but a feminine part,--to be the guardian of the sacred +and spiritual fire, which is ever to be kept alive in its purity and +brilliancy on the altar of God. She should be the vestal virgin in the +Christian temple--the priestess, as it were, of a shrine more hallowed +and honorable than that of Delphos. + + + + +A DIFFICULT QUESTION. + + +I remember, many years ago, to have occupied the corner of a +window-seat, in a small but very elegant house in Montague-square, +during a morning visit--more interesting than such visits usually are, +because there was something to talk about. The ladies who met, had each +a child, I believe an only girl, just of the age when mothers begin to +ask every body, and tell every body, how their children are to be +educated. The daughter of the house, the little Jemima, was sitting by +my side; a delicate little creature, with something very remarkable in +her expression. The broad projecting brow seemed too heavy for its +underwork; and by its depression, gave a look of sadness to the +countenance, till excited animation raised the eye, beaming vivacity and +strength. The sallow paleness of the complexion was so entirely in +unison with the features, and the stiff dark locks which surrounded +them, it was difficult to say whether it was, or was not, improved by +the color that came and went every time she was looked at or spoken of. +I was, on this occasion, a very attentive listener: for, being not yet a +woman, it was very essential to me to learn what sort of a one I had +better be; and many, indeed, were my counter-resolutions, as the +following debate proceeded: + +"You are going to send your daughter to school I hear?" said Mrs. A., +after some discourse of other matters. + +Mrs. W. replied, "Really, I have not quite determined; I scarcely know +what to do for the best. I am only anxious that she should grow up like +other girls; for of all things in the world, I have the greatest horror +of a woman of talent. I had never thought to part from her, and am still +averse to sending her from home; but she is so excessively fond of +books, I can get her to do nothing else but learn; she is as grave and +sensible as a little woman. I think, if she were among other girls, she +would perhaps get fond of play, and be more like a child. I wish her to +grow up a quiet, domestic girl, and not too fond of learning. I mean her +to be accomplished; but, at present, I cannot make her distinguish one +tune from another." + +Mrs. A. answered, "Indeed! we differ much in this respect. I am +determined to make Fanny a superior woman, whatever it may cost me. Her +father is of the same mind; he has a perfect horror of silly, +empty-headed women; all our family are literary; Fanny will have little +fortune, but we can afford to give her every advantage in her education, +the best portion we can leave her. I would rather see her distinguished +for talents, than for birth or riches. We have acted upon this intention +from her birth. She already reads well, but I am sorry to say she hates +it, and never will open a book unless she is obliged; she shows no taste +for any thing but making doll's clothes and spinning a top." + +At this moment a hearty laugh from little Fanny, who had set herself to +play behind the curtain, drew my attention towards her. She was twice as +big as my companion on the window-seat, though but a few months older; +her broad, flat face, showed like the moon in its zenith, set in thin, +silky hair: and with eyes as pretty as they could be, expressing neither +thought nor feeling, but abundance of mirth and good-humor. The coloring +of her cheek was beautiful; but one wished it gone sometimes, were it +only for the pleasure of seeing it come again. The increasing +seriousness of the conversation recalled my attention. + +"I am surprised," Mrs. W. was saying, "at your wishes on the subject. I +am persuaded a woman of great talent is neither so happy, so useful, nor +so much beloved, as one or more ordinary powers." + +"I should like to know why you think this," rejoined her friend; "it +appears to me she should be much more so." + +"My view of it is this," Mrs. W. replied: "a woman's sphere of +usefulness, of happiness, and of affection, is a domestic circle; and +even beyond it, all her task of life is to please and to be useful." + +"In this we are quite agreed," said Mrs. A.; "but, since we are well set +for an argument, let us have a little method in it. You would have your +child useful, happy, and beloved, and so would I; but you think the +means to this end, is to leave her mind uncultivated, narrow, and empty, +and consequently weak." + +"This, is not my meaning," replied Mrs. W.; "there are many steps +between stupidity and talent, ignorance and learning. I will suppose my +child what I wish her to be, about as much taught as women in general, +who are esteemed clever, well-mannered, and well-accomplished. I think +it is all that can contribute to her happiness. If her mind is occupied, +as you will say, with little things, those little things are sufficient +to its enjoyment, and much more likely to be within her reach than the +greater matters that fill greater minds. My less accomplished character +will enjoy herself where your superior woman would go to sleep, or +hopelessly wish she might. In short, she will find fellowship and +reciprocation in every little mind she meets with, while yours is left +to pine in the solitude of her own greatness." + +At the close of this speech, I felt quite determined that I would not be +such a woman. + +Mrs. A. rejoined, "You have left my genius in a doleful condition, +though I question whether you will persuade her to come down. I will +admit, however, for I am afraid I must, that the woman of talent is less +likely to find reciprocation, or to receive enjoyment from ordinary +people and ordinary circumstances; but then she is like the camel that +traverses the desert safely where others perish, because it carries its +sustenance in its own bosom. I never remember to have heard a really +sensible and cultivated woman complain of _ennui_, under any +circumstances--no small balance on the side of enjoyment positive, is +misery escaped. But, to leave jesting, admitting that the woman of more +elevated mind derives less pleasure from the adventitious circumstances +that surround her, from what money can purchase, and a tranquil mind +enjoy, and activity gather, of the passing flowers of life--she has +enjoyments, independent of them, in the treasures of her own intellect. +Where she finds reciprocation, it is a delight of which the measure +compensates the rareness; and where she finds nothing else to enjoy, she +can herself. And when the peopled walks of life become a wilderness; and +the assiduities of friendship rest unclaimed; and sensible +gratifications are withered before the blight of poverty; and the foot +is too weary, and the eye is too dim, to go after what no one remembers +to bring; still are her resources untouched. Poverty cannot diminish her +revenue, or friendlessness leave her unaccompanied, or privation of +every external incitement consign her to the void of unoccupied powers. +She will traverse the desert, for her store is with her; and if, as you +have suggested, she be doomed to supply others what no one pays her +back, there is One who has said, 'It is more blessed to give than to +receive.'" + +At this point of the discussion, I made up my mind to be a very sensible +woman. + +Mrs. W. resumed: "You will allow, of course, that selfish enjoyment is +not the object of existence; and I think, on the score of usefulness, I +shall carry my poor, dependent house-wife, far above yours. And for this +very reason: The duties which Providence has assigned to woman, do not +require extraordinary intellect. She can manage her husband's household, +and economize his substance; and if she cannot entertain his friends +with her talents, she can at least give them a welcome; and be his nurse +in sickness, and his watchful companion in health, if not capable of +sharing his more intellectual occupations. She can be the support and +comfort of her parents in the decline of life, or of her children in +their helplessness, according as her situation may be. And out of her +house she may be the benefactress and example of a whole neighborhood; +she may comfort the afflicted, and clothe and feed the poor, and visit +the sick, and advise the ignorant; while, by the domestic industry, and +peaceful, unaspiring habits, with which she plods, as you may please to +call it, through the duties of her station, whether higher or lower, she +is a perpetual example to those beneath her, to like sober assiduity in +their own, and to her children's children to follow in the path in which +she leads them. She may be superintending the household occupations, or +actually performing them; giving employment by her wealth to others' +ingenuity, or supplying the want of it by her own, according as her +station is, but still she will make many happy. + +"I am not so prejudiced as to say that your woman of talent will refuse +these duties; of course, if she have principle, she will not. But +literary pursuits must at least divide her attention, if not unfit her +altogether for the tasks the order of Providence has assigned her; she +will distaste such duties, if she does not refuse them; while the +distance at which her attainments place her from ordinary minds, forbid +all attempts to imitate or follow her." + +"You have drawn a picture," answered Mrs. A., "which would convert half +the world, if they were not of your mind already, as I believe they are. +It is a picture so beautiful, I would not blot it with the shadow of my +finger. I concede that talent is not necessary to usefulness, and a +woman may fulfill every duty of her station without it. But our question +is of comparative usefulness; and there I have something to say. It is +an axiom that knowledge is power; and, if it is, the greater the +knowledge, the greater should be the power of doing good. To men, +superior intelligence gives power to dispose, control, and govern the +fortunes of others. To women, it gives influence over their minds. The +greater knowledge which she has acquired of the human heart, gives her +access to it in all its subtleties; while her acknowledged superiority +secures that deference to her counsels, which weakness ever pays to +strength. + +"If the circumstances of her condition require it, I believe the greater +will suffice the less, and she will fulfill equally well the duties you +have enumerated; shedding as bright a light upon her household, as if +it bounded her horizon. Nay, more, there may be minds in her household +that need the reciprocation of an equal mind, or the support of a +superior one; there may be spirits in her family that will receive from +the influence of intellect, what they would not from simple and good +intention. There may be other wants in her neighborhood than hunger and +nakedness, and other defaulters than the ignorant and the poor. Whether +she writes, speaks, or acts, the effect is not bounded by time, nor +limited by space. That is worth telling of her, and is repeated from +mouth to mouth, which, in an ordinary person, none would notice. Her +acknowledged superiority gives her a title, as well as a capacity to +speak, where others must be silent, and carry counsel and consolation +where commoner characters might not intrude. + +"The mass of human misery, and human need, and human corruption, is not +confined to the poor, the simple minded, and the child. The husband's +and the parent's cares are not confined to their external commodities, +nor the children's to the well-being of their physical estate. The mind +that could illumine its own solitude, can cheer another's destitution; +the strength that can support itself, can stay another's falling; the +wealth may be unlocked, and supply another's poverty. Those who in +prosperity seek amusement from superior talent, will seek it in +difficulty or advice, and in adversity for support." + +Here I made up my mind to have a great deal of intellect. + +"If I granted your position on the subject of utility," said Mrs. W., "I +am afraid I should prove the world very ungrateful by the remainder of +my argument; which goes, you know, to prove the woman of distinguished +talent less beloved than those who walk the ordinary paths of female +duty. I must take the risk, however; for, of all women in the world, +your women of genius are those I love the least; and I believe, just or +unjust, it is a very common feeling. We are not disposed to love our +superiors in any thing; but least of all, in intellect; one has always +the feeling of playing an equal game, without being sure that no +advantage will be taken of your simplicity. A woman who has the +reputation of talent, is, in this respect, the most unfortunate being on +earth. She stands in society, like a European before a horde of savages, +vainly endeavoring to signify his good intentions. If he approaches +them, they run away; if he recedes, they send their arrows after him. +Every one is afraid to address her, lest they expose to her penetration +their own deficiencies. If she talks, she is supposed to display her +powers; if she holds her tongue, it is attributed to contempt for the +company. I know that talent is often combined with every amiable +quality, and renders the character really the more lovely; but not +therefore the more beloved. It would, if known; but it seldom is known, +because seldom approached near enough to be examined. + +"The simple-minded fear what they do not understand; the double-minded +envy what they cannot reach. For my good, simple housewife, every body +loves her who knows her; and nobody, who does not know her, troubles +themselves about her. But place a woman on an eminence, and every body +thinks they are obliged to like or dislike her; and, being too tenacious +to do the one without good reason, they do the other without any reason +at all. Before we can love each other, there must be sympathy, +assimilation, and, if not equality, at least such an approach to it as +may enable us to understand each other. When any one is much superior to +us, our humility shrinks from the proffers of her love, and our pride +revolts from offering her our own. Real talent is always modest, and +fears often to make advances towards affection, lest it should seem, in +doing so, to presume upon itself; but, having rarely the credit of +timidity, this caution is attributable to pride. Your superior woman, +therefore, will not be generally known or beloved by her own sex, among +whom she may have many admirers, but few equals. + +"I say nothing of marriage, because I am not speculating upon it for my +child, as upon the chances of a well-played game; but it is certain that +the greater number of men are not highly intellectual, and therefore +could not wisely choose a highly intellectual wife, lest they place +themselves in the condition in which a husband should not be--of mental +inferiority." + +"Mrs. W.," answered her friend, "I am aware this is your strongest post; +but I must not give ground without a battle. A great deal I shall yield +you. I shall give up quantity, and stand upon the value of the +remainder. Be it granted, then, that of any twenty people assembled in +society, every one of whom will pronounce your common-place woman to be +very amiable, very good, and very pleasing, ten shall pronounce my +friend too intellectual for their taste, eight shall find her not so +clever as they expected, and, of the other two, one at least shall not +be sure whether they like her or not. Be it granted that, of every five +ladies assembled to gossip freely, and tell out their small cares and +feelings to the sympathizing kindness of your friend, four shall become +silent as wax-work on the entrance of mine. And be it granted that, of +any ten gentlemen to whom yours would be a very proper wife, not more +than one could wisely propose himself to mine. But have I therefore lost +the field? Perhaps she would tell you no; the two in twenty, the one in +five or ten, are of more value, in her estimation, than all the number +else. + +"Things are not apt to be valued by their abundance. On the jeweler's +stall, many a brilliant trinket will disappear, ere the high-priced gem +be asked for; but is it, therefore, the less valued, or the less cared +for? When beloved at all, she is loved permanently; for, in the lapse of +time, that withers the charm of beauty, and blights the simplicity of +youth, her ornaments grow but the brighter for wearing. In proportion +to the depth of the intellect, I believe, is the depth of every thing; +feelings, affections, pleasures, pains, or whatever else the enlarged +capacity conceives. It is difficult perhaps for an inferior mind to +estimate what a superior mind enjoys in the reciprocation of affection. +Attachment, with ordinary persons, is enjoyed to-day, and regretted +to-morrow, and the next day replaced and forgotten; but with these it +never can be forgotten, because it can never be replaced." + +As the argument, thus terminated, converted neither party, it is +needless to say it left me in suspense. Mrs. W. was still determined her +child should not be a superior woman. Mrs. A. was still resolved her +child should be, at all ventures; and I was still undetermined whether I +would endeavor to be a learned woman or not. The little Fanny laughed +aloud, opened her large round eyes, and shouted, "So I will, mamma!" The +little Jemima colored to the ends of her fingers, and lowered still +farther the lashes that veiled her eyes. + + + + +EASILY DECIDED. + + +I was walking with some friends in a retired part of the country. It had +rained for fourteen days before, and I believed it rained then; but +there was a belief among the ladies of that country that it is better to +walk in all weather. The lane was wide enough to pass in file, with +chilly droppings from the boughs above, and rude re-action of the briers +beneath. The clay upon our shoes showed a troublesome affinity to the +clay upon the road. Umbrellas we could not hold up because of the wind. +But it was better to walk than stay at home, so at least my companions +assured me, for exercise and an appetite. After pursuing them, with +hopeless assiduity, for more than a mile, without sight of egress or +sign of termination, finding I had already enough of the one, and +doubting how far the other might be off, I lagged behind, and began to +think how I might amuse myself till their return. + +By one of those fortunate incidents, which they tell me never happen to +any body but a listener, I heard the sound of voices over the hedge. +This was delightful. In this occupation I forgot both mud and rain, +exercise and appetite. The hedge was too thick to see through, and all +that appeared above it was a low chimney, from which I concluded it +concealed a cottage garden. + +"What in the name of wonder, James, can you be doing?" said a voice, +significant of neither youth nor gentleness. + +"I war'nt ye know what I am about," said another, more rudely than +unkindly. + +"I'm not sure of that," rejoined the first; "you've been hacking and +hewing at them trees this four hours, and I do not see, for my part, as +you're like to mend them." + +"Why, mother," said the lad, "you see we have but two trees in all the +garden, and I've been thinking they'd match better if they were alike; +so I've tied up to a pole the boughs of the gooseberry-bush, that used +to spread themselves about the ground, to make it look more like this +thorn; and now I'm going to cut down the thorn to make it look more like +the gooseberry-bush." + +"And what's the good of that?" rejoined the mother; "has not the tree +sheltered us many a stormy night, when the wind would have beaten the +old casement about our ears? and many a scorching noon-tide, hasn't your +father eaten his dinner in its shade? And now, to be sure, because you +are the master, you think you can mend it!" + +"We shall see," said the youth, renewing his strokes. "It's no use as it +is; I dare say you'd like to see it bear gooseberries." + +"No use!" exclaimed the mother; "don't the birds go to roost on the +branches, and the poultry get shelter under it from the rain? and after +all your cutting, I don't see as you're likely to turn a thorn-tree into +a gooseberry-bush!" + +"I don't see why I should not," replied the sage artificer, with a tone +of reflectiveness; "the leaf is near about the same, and there are +thorns on both; if I make that taller and this shorter, and they grow +the same shape, I don't suppose you know why one should bear +gooseberries any more than the other, as wise as you are." + +"Why, to be sure, James," the old woman answered, in a moderate voice, +"I can't say that I do; but I have lived almost through my threescore +years and ten, and I have never heard of gooseberries growing on a +thorn." + +"Haven't you, though?" said James; "but then I have, or something pretty +much like it; for I saw the gardener, over yonder, cutting off the head +of a young pear-tree, and he told me he was going to make it bear +apples." + +"Well," said the mother, seemingly reconciled, "I know nothing of your +new-fangled ways. I only know it was the finest thorn in the parish; +but, to be sure, now they are more match-like and regular." + +I left a story half told. This may seem to be another, but it is in fact +the same. James, in the Sussex-lane, and my friends in Montague-square, +were engaged in the same task, and the result of the one would pretty +fairly measure the successes of the other; both were contravening the +order of nature, and pursuing their own purpose, without consulting the +appointments of Providence. + +Fanny was a girl of common understanding; such indeed as suitable +cultivation might have matured into simple good sense; but from which +her parents' scheme of education could produce nothing but pretension +that could not be supported, and an affectation of what could never be +attained. Conscious of the want of all perceptible talent in her child, +Mrs. A. from the first told the stories of talent opening late, and the +untimely blighting of premature intellect; and, to the last, maintained +the omnipotence of cultivation. + +On every new proof of the smallness of her mind, another science was +added to enlarge it. Languages, dead and living, were to be to her the +keys of knowledge; but they unlocked nothing to Fanny but their own +grammars and vocabularies, which she learned assiduously, without so +much as wondering what they meant. The more dull she proved, the more +earnestly she was plied. She was sent to school to try the spur of +emulation; and brought home again for the advantage of more exclusive +attention. And, as still the progress lagged, all feminine employ and +childlike recreations were prohibited, to gain more time for study. It +cannot be said that Fannny's health was injured by the over action of +her mind; for, having none, it could not be easily acted upon; but, by +perpetual dronish application, and sacrifice of all external things for +the furtherance of this scheme of mental cultivation, her physical +energies were suppressed, and she became heavy, awkward, and inactive. + +Fanny had no pleasure in reading, but she had a pride in having read; +and listened, with no small satisfaction, to her mother's detail of the +authors she was conversant with; beyond her age, and, as some untalented +ventured to suggest, not always suited to her years of innocence. The +arcana of their pages were safe, however, and quite guiltless of her +mind's corruption. Fanny never thought, whatever she might read; what +was in the book, was nothing to her; all her business was to _have_ read +it. Meantime, while the powers he had not were solicited in vain, the +talents she had were neglected and suppressed. Her good-humored +enjoyment of ordinary things, her real taste for domestic arrangement, +and open simplicity of heart, were derided as vulgar and unintellectual. +Her talent for music was thought not worth cultivating; time could not +be spared. Some little capacity she had for drawing, as an imitative +art, was baffled by the determination to teach it her scientifically, +thus rendering it as impossible as every thing else. In short--for why +need I prolong my sketch?--Fanny was prepared by nature to be the _beau +ideal_ of Mrs. W.'s amiable woman. + +Constitutionally active and benevolent, judicious culture might have +made her sensible, and, in common life, intelligent, pleasing, useful, +happy. Nay, I need only refer to the picture of my former paper, to say +what Fanny, well educated, was calculated to become. But this was what +her parents were determined she should not be; and they spent twenty +years, and no small amount of cash, to make her a woman of superior mind +and distinguished literary attainments. + +I saw the result; for I saw Fanny at twenty, the most unlovely, useless, +and unhappy being I ever met with. The very docility of a mind, not +strong enough to choose its own part, and resist the influence of +circumstances, hastened forward the catastrophe. She had learned to +think herself what she could not be, and to despise what in reality she +was; she could not otherwise than do so, for she had been imbued with it +from her cradle. + +She was accustomed from her infancy to intellectual society; kept up to +listen, when she should have been in bed; she counted the spots on the +carpet, heard nothing that was said, and prided herself on being one of +such company. A little later, she was encouraged to talk to every body, +and give her opinion upon every thing, in order to improve and exercise +her mind. Her mind remained unexercised, because she talked without +thinking; but she learned to chatter, to repeat other people's opinions, +and fancy her own were of immense importance. + +She was unlovely, because she sought only to please by means she had +not, and to please those who were quite beyond her reach; others she had +been accustomed to neglect as unfit for her companionship. She was +useless, because what she might have done well, she was unaccustomed to +do at all, and what she attempted, she was incapable of. And she was +unhappy, because all her natural tastes had been thwarted, and her +natural feelings suppressed; and of her acquired habits and +high-sounding pursuits she had no capacity for enjoyment. Her love of +classic and scientific lore, her delight in libraries, and museums, and +choice intellects, and literary circles, was a fiction; they gratified +nothing but her vanity. Her small, narrow, weak, and dependent mind, was +a reality, and placed her within reach of mortification and +disappointment, from the merest and meanest trifles. + +Jemima--my little friend Jemima--I lived to see her a woman too. From +her infancy she had never evinced the tastes and feelings of a child. +Intense reflection, keen and impatient sensibility and an unlimited +desire to know, marked her from the earliest years as a very +extraordinary child; dislike to the plays and exercises of childhood +made her unpleasing to her companions, and, to superficial observers, +melancholy; but this was amply contradicted by the eager vivacity of her +intellect and feeling, when called forth by things beyond the usual +compass of her age. Every thing in Jemima gave promise of extraordinary +talent and distinguished character. This her parents saw, and were +determined to counteract. They had made up their minds what a woman +should be, and were determined Jemima should be nothing else. Every +thing calculated to call forth her powers was kept out of her way, and +childish occupations forced on her in their stead. The favorite maxim +was, to occupy her mind with common things; she was made to romp, and to +dance and to play; to read story books, and make dolls' clothes. Her +physical powers were thus occupied; but where was her mind the while? +Feeding itself with fancies, for want of truths; drawing false +conclusions, forming wrong judgments, and brooding over its own +mistakes, for want of a judicious occupation of its activities. + +Another maxim was, to keep Jemima ignorant of her own capacity, lest she +should set up for a genius, and be undomesticated. She was told she had +none, and was left in ignorance of what she was capable, and for what +she was responsible. Made to believe that her fine feelings were +oddities, her expansive thoughts absurdities, and her love of knowledge +unfeminine and ungraceful, she kept them to herself, and became +reserved, timid, and artificial. + +Nobody could prevent Jemima's acquiring knowledge; she saw every thing, +reflected upon every thing, and learned from every thing; but without +guide, and without discretion, she gathered the honey and the gall +together, and knew not which was which. She was sent to school that she +might learn to play, and fetched home that she might learn to be useful. +In the former place she was shunned as an oddity, because she preferred +to learn; and, finding herself disliked without deserving it, +encouraged herself to independence by disliking every body. In the +latter, she sewed her work awry, while she made a couplet to the moon, +and unpicked it while she made another; and being told she did every +thing ill, believed it, and became indolent and careless to do any +thing. Consumed, meanwhile, by the restless workings of her mind, and +tasked to exercise for which its delicate frame-work was unfit, her +person became faded, worn, and feeble. + +To be brief, her parents succeeded in baffling nature's promise, but +failed of the fulfillment of their own. At twenty, Jemima was a puzzle +to every body, and a weariness to herself. Conscious of her powers, but +not knowing how to spend them, she gave in to every imaginable caprice. +Having made the discovery of her superiority, she despised the opinions +of others, while her own were too ill-formed to be her guide. Proud of +possessing talent, and yet ashamed to show it; unaccustomed to explain +herself; certain of being misunderstood, and least of all understanding +herself; ignorant, in the midst of knowledge, and incapable with +unlimited capacity; tasteless for every thing she did, and ignorant how +to do what she had a taste for, her mind was a luxuriant wilderness, +inaccessible to others, and utterly unproductive to its possessor. +Unpleasing and unfitted in the sphere she was in, and yet unfitted by +habit and timidity for any other, weariness and disgust were her daily +portion; her fine sensibilities, her deep feelings, her expansive +thoughts, remained; but only to be wounded, to irritate, to mislead her. + +Where is the moral of my tale, and what the use of telling it? I have +told it because I see that God has his purposes in every thing that he +has done; and man has his own, and disregards them. And every day I hear +it disputed, with acrimony and much unkindness, what faculties and +characters it is better to have or not to have, without any +consideration of what God has given or withheld; and standards are set +up, by which all must be measured, though, alas! they cannot take from +or add one cubit to their statures. "There is one glory of the sun, and +another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star +differeth from another star in glory." Why do we not censure the sun for +outshining the stars, and the pale moon for having no light but what she +borrows? + +Instead of settling for others what they ought to be, and choosing for +ourselves what we will be, would it not be better to examine the +condition in which we are actually placed, and the faculties actually +committed to us? and consider what was the purpose of Heaven in the +former, and what the demand of Heaven in the occupation of the latter? +If we have much, we are not at liberty to put it aside, and say we +should be better without it; if we have little, we are not at liberty to +be dissatisfied, and aspiring after more. And surely we are not at +liberty to say that another has too much, or too little, of what God has +given! We may have our preferences, but we must not mistake them for +standards of right. + +Every character has beauties peculiar to itself, and dangers to which it +is peculiarly exposed; and there are duties, pertaining to each, apart +from the circumstances in which they may be placed. Nothing, therefore, +can be more contrary to the manifest order and disposition of +Providence, than to endeavor to be, or do, whatever we admire in +another, or to force ourselves to be and do whatever we admire in +ourselves. Which character, of the endless variety that surrounds us, is +the most happy, the most useful, and most deserving to be beloved, it +were impossible, I believe, to decide; and, if we could, we have gained +little by the decision; for we could neither give it to our children, +nor to ourselves. But of this we may be certain: that individual, of +whatever intellectual character, is the happiest, the most useful, and +the most beloved of God, if not of men, who has best subserved the +purposes of Heaven in her creation and endowment; who has most carefully +turned to good the faculties she has; most cautiously guarded against +the evils to which her propensities incline; most justly estimated, and +conscientiously fulfilled, the duties appropriate to her circumstance +and character. + + + + +INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON WOMAN. + + +The abject condition of the female sex, in all, out of Christian +countries, is universally known and admitted. In all savage and pagan +tribes, the severest burdens of physical toil are laid upon their +shoulders; they are chiefly valued for the same reason that men value +their most useful animals, or as objects of their sensual and selfish +desires. Even in the learned and dignified forms of Eastern paganism, +"the wife," says one who has spent seventeen years among them, "is the +slave, rather than the companion of her husband. She is not allowed to +walk with him, she must walk _behind_ him; not to eat with him, she must +eat _after_ him, and eat of what he leaves. She must not sleep until he +is asleep, nor remain asleep after he is awake. If she is sitting, and +he comes in, she should rise up. She should, say their sacred books, +have no other god on earth than her husband. Him she should worship +while he lives, and, when he dies, she should be burnt with him. As the +widow, in case she is not burnt, is not allowed to marry again, is often +considered little better than an outcast, and not unfrequently sinks +into gross vice, her life can scarcely be considered a blessing." + +The same author remarks, that "there is little social intercourse +between the sexes; little or no acquaintance of the parties before +marriage, and consequently little mutual attachment; and as there is an +absolute vacuity and darkness in the minds of the females, who are not +allowed even to learn to read, there is no solid foundation laid for +domestic happiness." + +If we pass into the dominions of the crescent, we find the condition of +females, in some respects, rather worse, it would seem, than better. +For, in pagan India, debased and abused as woman is, she is still +allowed some interest in religion, and some common expectations with the +other sex, concerning the future state. But in Mohammedan countries, +even this is nearly or quite denied her. "It is a popular tradition +among the Mohammedans, which obtains to this day, that woman shall not +enter Paradise;" and it requires some effort of the imagination to +conceive how debased and wretched must be the condition of the female +sex, to originate and sustain such a horrible and blasphemous tradition. + +Even in the refined and shining ages of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, where +the cultivation of letters, the graces of finished style, the charms of +poetry and eloquence, the elegances of architecture, sculpture, +painting, and embroidery, the glory of conquest, and the pride of +national distinction, were unsurpassed by any people before or +since--even then and there, what was the woman but the abject slave of +man? the object of his ambition, or his avarice, or his lust, or his +power? the alternate victim of his pleasures, his disgust, or his +cruelty? the creature of his caprice? and, what is worse, the menial +slave of her own mental darkness, moral debasement, and vicious +indulgences? If history is not false, the answer is decisive. This, and +only this, was she! + +But how entirely has our religion reversed all this, and rendered her +life a blessing to herself and to society. And as Christianity has done +so much for woman, she ought in return to do much for Christianity. +Every thing that can render life desirable, she owes to Christ. Think +for one moment of the hole of the pit from which Christ has taken you! +Think of what would be your present condition, had it not been for the +Christian religion! You might have been with the debased and wretched +victims of pagan oppression, cruelty, and lust; burning alive upon the +funeral pile; or sacrificed by hands of violence or pollution; or cast +out, and neglected, to pine in solitary and hopeless grief. Or, with the +female followers of the false prophet, or, in more refined but +unchristian nations, you might have been little else than the slave or +the convenience of man, and left to doubt whether any inheritance awaits +you beyond the grave. + +From these depths of debasement and wretchedness, Christianity has taken +you, and placed you on high, to move, and shine, and rejoice, in the +sphere for which the Creator designed you. Not only has it made your +condition as good as that of man, but, in a moral view, in some respects +superior to it. How much, then, do you owe to Christ! To turn away from +him with indifference or neglect, what ingratitude is this! How +preposterous, how base, how unlovely, is female impiety! There was much +sense in a remark made by an intelligent gentleman, who, although not +pious himself, said: "I cannot look with any complacency upon a woman +who does not manifest gratitude and love to Jesus Christ. Above all +things, I hate to see so unnatural an object as an irreligious woman." + +Such being the constitution and circumstances of woman, it is the +manifest intention of God that she should be pre-eminent in moral +excellence; and, through the influence of this, take a glorious lead in +the renovation of the world. This she has to some extent ever done. Let +all females of Christian lands consider well their high calling, their +solemn responsibility, and their glorious privilege. While many of their +sex have proved recreant to their trust, and wasted life in vanity and +in vice, others--an illustrious constellation, the holy and the good of +ancient time, the mothers and the sisters in Israel, "the chief women, +not a few," of apostolic times, the bright throng, that have since +continued to come out from the world, and tread in the steps of Jesus, +and lead on their fellow-beings to the kingdom of purity and joy--have +proved to us that, as woman was first to fall, so she is first to rise. + +Yes; though it is not hers to amass wealth; to aspire to secular office +and power; to shine in camps and armies; to hurl the thunders of our +navies, and gather laurels from the ocean, or to receive the vain +incense offered to public and popular eloquence: yet, hers it is, to be +robed with the beauty of Christ; to shine in the honors of goodness; to +shed over the world the sweet and holy influences of peace, virtue, and +religion; to be adorned with those essential and imperishable beauties, +those unearthly stars and diadems, whose lustre will survive, with +ever-increasing brightness, when all earthly glory will fade and be +forgotten. Come, then; come to your high duty, your glorious +privilege--come, and be blessed for ever! + + + + +IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO WOMAN. + + +There is nothing so adapted to the wants of woman as religion. She has +many trials, and she therefore peculiarly needs support; religion is her +asylum, not only in heavy afflictions, but in petty disquietudes. These, +as they are more frequent, are perhaps almost as harassing; at least, +they equally need a sedative influence, and religion is the anodyne. For +it is religion which, by placing before her a better and more enduring +happiness than this world can offer, reconciles her to temporary +privations; and, by acquainting her with the love of God, leads her to +rest securely upon his providence in present disappointment. It inspires +her with that true content, which not only endures distress, but is +cheerful under it. + +Resignation is not, as we are too apt to portray her, beauty bowered in +willows, and bending over a sepulchral urn; neither is she a tragic +queen, pathetic only in her weeds. She is an active, as well as passive +virtue; an habitual, not an occasional sentiment. She should be as +familiar to woman as her daily cross; for acquiescence in the detail of +Providence is as much a duty, as submission to its result; and +equanimity amid domestic irritations equally implies religious +principle, as fortitude under severer trials. It was the remark of one, +who certainly was not disposed to care for trifles, that "it required as +much grace to bear the breaking of a china cup, as any of the graver +distresses of life." + +Minor cares are indeed the province of woman; minor annoyances her +burden. Dullness, bad temper, mal-adroitness, are to her the cause of a +thousand petty rubs, which too often spoil the euphony of a silver +voice, and discompose the symmetry of fair features. But the confidence +which reposes on divine affection, and the charity which covers human +frailty, are the only specifics for impatience. + +And, if religion is such a blessing in the ordinary trials of life, what +a soothing balm it is in graver sorrows! From these, woman is by no +means exempt; on the contrary, as her susceptibility is great, +afflictions press on her with peculiar heaviness. There is sometimes a +stillness in her grief which argues only its intensity, and it is this +rankling wound which piety alone can heal. Nothing, perhaps, is more +affecting than woman's chastened sorrow. Her ties may be severed, her +fond hopes withered, her young affections blighted, yet peace may be in +her breast, and heaven in her eye. If the business and turmoil of life +brush away the tears of manly sorrows, and scarcely leave time even for +the indulgence of sympathy, woman gathers strength in her solitary +chamber, to encounter and subdue her grief. There she learns to look +her sorrow in the face; there she becomes familiar with its features; +there she communes with it, as with a celestial messenger; till at +length she can almost welcome its presence, and hail it as the harbinger +of a brighter world. + +Religion is her only elevating principle. It identifies itself with the +movements of her heart and with the actions of her life, spiritualizing +the one and ennobling the other. Duties, however subordinate, are to the +religious woman never degrading; their principle is their apology. She +does not live amidst the clouds, or abandon herself to mystic +excitement; she is raised above the sordidness, but not above the +concerns, of earth; above its disquietudes, but not above its cares. + +Religion is just what woman needs. Without it, she is ever restless and +unhappy; ever wishing to be relieved from duty or from time. She is +either ambitious of display, or greedy of pleasure, or sinks into a +listless apathy, useless to others and unworthy of herself. But when the +light from heaven shines upon her path, it invests every object with a +reflected radiance. Duties, occupations, nay, even trials, are seen +through a bright medium; and the sunshine which gilds her course on +earth, is but the dawning of a far clearer day. + + + * * * * * * + + +Transcriber's Note: + + The following words were inconsistently hyphenated: + + house-wife / housewife + time-piece / timepiece + + Other errors: + + Original + Page + 11 Missing period after 'other' + ....each other "_Familiarity_," says.... + 72 Missing period after 'it' + ....could not help it She sang to Nurse.... + 124 extra 'n' in the name Fanny + ....cannot be said that Fannny's health.... + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LADIES' VASE*** + + +******* This file should be named 16802.txt or 16802.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/8/0/16802 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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