THE HOMES OF NEW ENGLAND.

BY REV.

A. A. LIVERMORE.

WAS it a chance culture, an accidental education, that developed the minds and characters of the last century, and changed one unbroken wilderness into a highly civilized land, and reared the noblest institutions in the world? No. There was a cause. And we ought to learn it and ponder upon it. I say there is a cause for the virtue, and activity, and happiness of our people. And that cause, I hesitate not to say, lies here. The people of this community have, with few exceptions, been trained up in happy, virtuous, holy homes. We sat, in infancy and youth, in heavenly places, and rich influences brooded over our pliant spirits, as dew upon the tender plant.

True, here in New England, and especially here in Wilton, Nature has lavished her fairest scenes, and breathed from the Most High the breath of life into our souls. Yes, blessed be these hills and valleys for the choice, sweet influences they have shed upon the young communities springing up here. Blessed be these granite mountains, that stand like vast citadels of safety around the blue ring of the horizon, and, gilded by the glories of the setting sun, carry up the thoughts to sublimity and God. Blessed be the fair skies which bend over us here with all their sparkling hosts of light and glory. Blessed be the pure breezes which sing from the northwestern hills, and bear health and exhilaration on their wings. But thrice blessed be our homes ; Our homes, where love and happiness wove a charm and a spell for our hearts, never, never to be unloosed. There "heaven

lay about us in our infancy." The blue sky was more dear to us, because it arched proudly over the cherished roof of home. The sun and wind and rain and snow were loved because they brought their treasures and laid them at the feet of our sanctuary. The forests and vales and roaring brooks have been sweet in association from this great central attraction.

And what made our homes in this great wilderness so happy and genial so fitted to tempt forth both heart and mind, and develope the elastic energies of a free people? I will name only two things, not because they are the only two, but because they are the most important. Woman and Religion.

Much has been said of the part woman played, or rather worked, in the grand drama of these settlements. But the theme is an inexhaustible one. What would have been the Pilgrim Fathers without the Pilgrim Mothers? Shaggy barbarians of the woods. But woman came to cheer and refine the rude settlers. She bravely dared the terrors of the wilderness, to plant the pleasant amenities of social life in the log cabin. She forded rivers and penetrated forests to come hither. She came to dwell under the shades of the vast and savage woods. Her employments were humble, but her aims lofty. "She looked well to the ways of her household, and ate not the bread of idleness." Through long days and sleepless nights, she watched over her tender children. And when distant labors, or still worse, the trumpet of war, summoned her husband away from her side, she steadily plied her lonely tasks, watching his return, or learned, dreadful news! that he would return no more for ever. We have often read of the horrors of the wars of that period, and got by heart the story of the labors, dangers and sufferings of our forefathers. It would be unjust to forget that those who staid at home often endured far more than those who braved the flaming lines of battle far more in heartsickness, hope deferred, hope destroyed, and all the nameless, haunting terrors of the deep woods, where the wild

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beast and wilder Indian were their only neighbors for miles and miles. But why need I say more? The subject has already been anticipated. I will only say, let us never forget what heroic, much enduring woman has done for the happy homes of New England.

But there was yet another agent that helped to make us what we are as a people, that consecrated our homes as holy places, and nerved our fathers' and mothers' hearts to do and dare nobly. It was religion. They brought with them the word of God as the ark of their safety, the shechinah of the Divine presence and favor. Morning and evening they offered praise to heaven from their forest dwellings. The house of God gathered them, from near and far, weekly to pay their adorations to the Great Guardian of their exposed lives, and hallow their minds with the influences of the Sabbath and the sanctuary. Every thing around and within them tended to keep alive their sense of dependence on God, and their value of the gospel of Jesus. Endangered, tempted, weary, suffering, alone, they looked to the source of comfort and strength, and found rest and courage and patience unto the end. With them religion was first, religion last, and religion midst. Other lands may boast richer soils, other climates may be more bland, other mountains may yield more precious minerals, other skies may shine with softer hues, but where shall we look for homes as pure and religious, as free and happy, as in our dear New England? These have been the glory of the past century; they are the hope of the new one. Woman and religion have made them what they have been; they alone can make them what they ought to be. Guard well our homes from evil, and our nation is girded round about with a munition of rocks, and a wall of fire.

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WATCH AND PRAY.

BY REV. JOHN G. ADAMS.

In the morning's glowing light,
When the noontide sun is bright,
When the day-beams fade away,
Guard thy spirit, watch and pray.

When with duty's cares perplexed,
Be not overcome nor vexed;
Think not from thyself to stray
In thy labors - watch and pray.

When thy hopes are all fulfilled,
When each anxious thought is stilled,
Clouds of gloom all cleared away,
Then remember- watch and pray.

When in health thy pulses fly,
And the hours pass gaily by,
Then forget not, all the day,
That 't is best to watch and pray.

When temptation lurks around,
Luring to forbidden ground,

Heed not what her voice may say:
Keep thy distance- watch and pray.

When in deep affliction cast,
Deem not all thy sunshine past:
Joy will yet thy spirit sway,
If thou wilt but watch and pray.

And when sickness comes, and pain,
Deem not that their work is vain :
They will make thy darkness day,
If, resigned, thou watch and pray.

When the angel, Death, shall come,
And thy spirit bid go home,
Gladly shall it pass away,

If thou still canst watch and pray.

MY GRANDMOTHER'S ELM.

BY MRS. MARY ANN

SULLIVAN.

Ir ever you visit my native town,

Will you seek out the vale where the mill-stream comes down?
Even the villagers' children will point you the road,
And the very old house where my grandsire abode.

But the pride of the vale which I wish you to see,
Is my grandmother's elm, the old mammoth tree:
How widely its graceful and spherical crown
Flings over the valley a shadow of brown!

When the fierce south-easter* was raging by,
Filling with clamor the gentle blue sky;
Then a lofty branch like a forest oak,

From the noble old tree by its fury was broke.

Oft my grandmother told us, as pondering we stood,

How, three-score years since, from the neighboring wood,
She carried that elm in her little right hand,

And her father planted it firm in the land.

Her grave is grown smooth on the green-hill side,
But the elm lives still in its towering pride,
And the spring's gayest birds have a colony there,
And they gladden with carols the mid-summer air.

And gay as the wild-bird's melody,

Are the sports I have led beneath that tree;
oh, would it were mine
In the shade of that tree even now to recline!

The old elm tree

*The September gale of 1815.

16*

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