varying seasons, -remind many tender hearts of the children of poverty, quickening both liberality to them, and love to the Father of all. The history of despotic governments, of the horrors of war, and the miseries of ignorance and heathenism, should aid in impressing a sense of our own great indebtedness, and in shedding over the face and demeanor the clear sunshine of cheerful gratitude. But, as it is impossible to recount those mercies which are 66 new every morning and fresh every moment," our whole existence should be pervaded by the spirit which moved the pious poet to exclaim

"Almighty Friend, henceforth to Thee

A hymn of praise my life shall be."

The habit of discovering good qualities in others is a source of diffusible happiness. Though a knowledge of human nature teaches that the best characters have a mixture of infirmity, it still admits that in the worst there are some redeeming virtues. The telescope which reveals the brightness of the most opaque and remote planets, is more valuable than the microscope that detects motes in the sunbeam, and deformed insects feeding even upon the heart of the rose. A disposition to dwell upon the bright side of character, is like gold to the possessor. One of the principal ingredients in the happiness of childhood, is freedom from suspicion, and kind and loving thoughts toward all. Why might not that sweet disposition be combined with a more extensive intercourse with mankind? A habit of searching out the faults of others, like that of complaining of the inconveniences of our lot, grows with indulgence, and is calculated both to increase evil, and to perpetuate its remembrance.

MARRIAGE. Marriage is to woman at once the happiest and the saddest event of her life; it is the promise of future bliss, raised on the death of all present enjoyment. She quits her home, her parents, her companions, her occupations, her amusements, every thing on which she has hitherto depended for comfort, for affection, for kindness, for pleasure. The parents by whose advice she has been guided, the sister to whom she has dared impart every embryo thought and feeling, the brother who has played with her, by turns the counsellor and the counselled, and the younger children, to whom she has hitherto been the mother and the playmate; all are to be forsaken at one fell stroke; every former tie is loosened, the spring of every hope and action is to be changed; and yet she flies with joy into the untrodden path before her; buoyed up by the confidence of requited love, she bids a fond and grateful adieu to the life that is past, and turns with excited hopes and joyous anticipation to the happiness to come.

Then wo to the man who can blight such fair hope-who can treacherously lure such a heart from its peaceful enjoyment, and the watchful protection at home who can, cowardlike, break the illusions which have won her, and destroy the confidence which love had inspired. Wo to him who has too early withdrawn the tender plant from the props and stays of moral discipline in which she has been nurtured, and yet makes no effort to supply their place; for on him be the responsibility of her errors on him who has first taught her, by his example, to grow careless of her duty, and then exposed her, with a weakened spirit, and unsatisfied heart, to the wild storms and the wily temptations of a sinful world.

What a beautiful description of that mercy, which is charity, and "doeth good," yet "vaunteth not itself!" It has never been so truly defined by an uninspired writer; yet, after all the grace of poetical expression, we must go to the Bible, if we would find the nature, the office and effect of charity, represented in its most striking and lovely characteristics.

What a cheerful, helpful, and unconquerable spirit of goodness that charity, which "hopeth all things, believeth all things, endureth all things," must communicate! And then the constancy, the selfdenial, the tenderness of the sentiment which "suffereth long and is kind!"

Well may the apostle call charity" the bond of perfectness ;" and though almsgiving be but one, and by no means the most important, manifestation of this divine spirit, yet the graceful performance of this shows the character of woman in a most lovely aspect. But much of the merit depends on the manner. "It droppeth as the gentle rain"-soft, noiseless, refreshing. There is no tumult or terror, as in the storm, and there should be no bustle, no parade, no showing off in almsgiving. The act should seem not only voluntary, but gratifying to the donor. Perhaps an anecdote I heard from my grandmother will illustrate the subject better than any remarks of my own.

The scene occurred in those days when our ancestors had to work hard, and often fare hard-when they had hard hands, but very rarely hard hearts.

It was during the severe winter of 1768;- my grandmother, like

* Under this head will occasionally be given short sketches, scenes and sentiments, intended chiefly to illustrate those principles in morals and conduct which are indispensable to the perfecting of female character. Some of these sketches have before been published, but never with the writer's

name.

C

THE BOOK OF BREVITIES.

47

the people of those old times, was particular in dates; but then they had but few" remarkable occurrences" to remember, as they did not live on the "high pressure principle," as is the fashion_now-adays; and she described the day as intensely cold. Even at noon the sun hardly seemed to diffuse any warmth, though it shone brightly; and Mrs. Wilcox, as she looked on her blazing fire and warm dinner, felt her heart glow with thankfulness that Providence had surrounded her with so many comforts. There was an excellent boiled dish served up; for her husband, though not rich, was an industrious, thriving farmer, and provided well for his family. He was not at home, however, and Mrs. Wilcox, her six children and a hired man, were gathering round the table. Just then a neighbor entered, and said he had come from the house of Mr. Pond, a poor man, sick and confined to his bed with inflammatory rheumatism.

"And how is Mrs. Pond and the children?" eagerly inquired Mrs. Wilcox.

"O, very bad," said the neighbor; "not sick-I don't mean that; but they have only a few sticks of wood, and not so much fire on the hearth as I could put into my hat; and Mrs. Pond told me she had not a mouthful of bread or a spoonful of meal in the house, and she begged me to call here and see if you would sell her a gallon of Indian meal, and she will pay you in knitting, or any

kind of work."

What did Mrs. Wilcox do or say? What would you have done, fair girl? or you, good matron?

"Given the poor woman the meal," says one. "Told her she might have as much as she wanted, and take her own time for payment," says the second. "Sent her children some cold meat and

bread," says the third. "Promised to have gone among my acquaintance and raised a subscription for her," says the fourth. "Pitied her very much, but wondered how she could have been entirely out of meal," says the fifth. "Desired her to send immediately to 'Squire Seaton's; he always helps poor folks," says the sixth. "Determined to visit the poor woman as soon as dinner was over," says the seventh.

You have none of you thought of the expedient adopted by Mrs. Wilcox. She took the warm dinner, prepared for herself and her own children, and sent it all to the hungry family, with an injunction to the hired man to go speedily as possible, so that it might not cool by the way.

I have always loved the memory of that woman.

48

ADVICE TO THE LADIES.

THE PROVINCE OF WOMAN.

BY MRS. HANNAH MORE.

As some fair violet, loveliest of the glade,
Sheds its mild fragrance on the lonely shade,
Withdraws its modest head from public sight,
Nor courts the sun, nor seeks the glare of light:
Should some rude hand profanely dare intrude,
And bear its beauties from its native wood,
Exposed abroad its languid colors fly,
Its form decays, and all its odors die.

So WOMAN: born to dignify retreat,
Unknown, to flourish; and, unseen, be great;
To give domestic life its sweetest charm;
With softness polish, and with virtue warm;
Fearful of fame, unwilling to be known,

Should seek but heaven's applauses, and her own;

Should dread no blame, but that which crimes impart -
The censures of a self-condemning heart.

Heaven's ministering angel, she should seek the cell
Where modest want and silent anguish dwell;
Raise the weak head, sustain the feeble knees,
Cheer the cold heart, and chase the dire disease.
The splendid deeds which only seek a name,
Are paid their just reward in present fame;
But know the woful, all disclosing day,
The long arrear of secret worth shall pay ;
Applauding saints shall hear with fond regard,
And HE, who witnessed here, shall there reward.

ADVICE TO THE LADIES. -If you would be truly valuable, esteem not yourself chiefly according to your money and lands, but on the grace of your mind and person. Read a little more - read morality, history, innocent poetry, and the lives of generous lovers. You dress well, and have the belle air and mind; be as polite in your dress, and learn to write a neat style-I mean so as to write on all occasions, not as scholars but as gentlewomen. As you are ingenious, a little application forms you for good housewives; but to improve the beauties of the mind and carriage, will cost no more. Blend both accomplishments together, and do not, as some, be mutes and statues in company; or, as others, perpetual drums. No longer be won by faces with brainless heads to them; neither mistake a low bow for pure good manners; nor a well-dressed head for quality; nor a fashionable coat for an estate; servile cringing for true love; nor a smooth tongue for sense. Above all, do not mistake wit for wisdom; and cast a tender eye on him who has steady manly virtue and prudence in his conduct, and gives fair hopes of his minding at heart-the main chance.

Occasionally we see a mother and daughter who appear to be entirely united in sympathy and affection. The mother is the bosom friend of the daughter, her most intimate confidant. The first impulse of the daughter is to hasten to her mother with every new emotion, whether of joy or sorrow. And the mother makes the daughter her friend and companion; consults her in all her plans, delights in her society, accompanies her in her pleasures, and all their affections and feelings are most delightfully and inseparably intertwined. Again, we see a mother and daughter residing together as beings almost entirely isolated. There is no confiding affection binding them together; no sympathy of feelings or joys. The mother is perhaps sincerely pious, and the daughter sincerely dutiful. But they are not confiding friends, with hearts and hopes in common. It is very important that every parent should be the confidant of his child; but it is peculiarly important that the mother should secure this hold upon the affections and confidence of her daughter.

1. This is very important, because it affords the most effectual human influence for the conversion of the soul. It is, ordinarily, by a thousand almost imperceptible influences that the heart is led to a knowledge of itself; to appreciate the Savior, and to surrender itself to the Lord. Now let the heart of a daughter be thus brought into intimate and constant contact with the heart of a pious mother; with those susceptible and affectionate feelings which this relation will surely awaken; and it is hardly possible that she shall not, under the promised aids of the Spirit, catch the glow of devotion. She will imbibe her mother's character, and love her mother's Sa