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Or in sequestered lanes they build,

Where, till the flitting bird's return, Her eggs within the nest repose,

Like relics in an urn.

But still, where general choice is good,
There is a better and a best;
And, among fairest objects, some
Are fairer than the rest;

This, one of those small builders proved In a green covert, where, from out The forehead of a pollard oak,

The leafy antlers sprout;

For She who planned the mossy lodge,
Mistrusting her evasive skill,
Had to a Primrose looked for aid
Her wishes to fulfil.

High on the trunk's projecting brow,
And fixed an infant's span above
The budding flowers, peeped forth the nest,
The prettiest of the grove!

The treasure proudly did I show

To some whose minds without disdain Can turn to little things; but once Looked up for it in vain :

'Tis gone-a ruthless spoiler's prey,

Who heeds not beauty, love, or song, 'Tis gone! (so seemed it) and we grieved Indignant at the wrong.

Just three days after, passing by

In clearer light, the moss-built cell I saw, espied its shaded mouth,

And felt that all was well.

The Primrose for a veil had spread
The largest of her upright leaves;
And thus, for purposes benign,
A simple flower deceives.

Concealed from friends who might disturb
Thy quiet with no ill intent,
Secure from evil eyes and hands

On barbarous plunder bent,

Rest, Mother-bird! and when thy young Take flight, and thou art free to roam, When withered is the guardian Flower, And empty thy late home,

Think how ye prospered, thou and thine,
Amid the unviolated grove,
Housed near the growing Primrose tuft
In foresight, or in love.

WOMEN'S RIGHTS AND DUTIES.

BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD.

You ask what are my opinions about Women's Rights.' I confess a strong distaste to the subject, as it has been generally treated. On no other theme probably has there been uttered so much of false, mawkish sentiment, shallow philosophy, and sputtering, farthing-candle wit. If the style of its advocates has often been offensive to taste, and unacceptable to reason, assuredly that of its opponents have been still more so. College boys have amused themselves with writing dreams, in which they saw women in hotels, with their feet hoisted, and chairs tilted back, or growling and bickering at each other in legislative halls, or fighting at the polls, with eyes blackened by fisticuffs. But it never seems to have occurred to these facetious writers, that the proceedings which appear so ludicrous and improper in women, are also ridiculous and disgraceful in men. It were well that men should learn not to hoist their feet above their heads, and tilt their chairs backward, not to growl and snap in the halls of legislation, nor give each other black eyes at the polls.

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Maria Edgeworth says, We are disgusted when we see a woman's mind overwhelmed with a torrent of learning; that the tide of literature has passed over it should be betrayed only by its fertility.' This is beautiful and true; but is it not likewise applicable to man? The truly great never seek to display themsevles. If they carry their heads high above the crowd, it is only made manifest to others by accidental revelations of their extended vision. ‹ Human duties and proprieties do not lie so very far apart,' said Harriet Martineau; if they did, there would be two gospels and two teachers, one for man and another for woman.'

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It would seem, indeed, as if men were willing to give women the exclusive benefit of gospel-teaching. Women should be gentle,' say the advocates of subordination; but when Christ said, Blessed are the meek,' did he preach to women only? Girls should be modest,' is the language of common teaching, continually uttered in words and customs. Would it not be an improvement for men also to be scrupulously pure in manners, conversation and life? Books addressed to young married people abound with advice to the wife, to control her temper, and never to utter wearisome complaints, or vexatious words, when the husband comes home fretful or unreasonable, from his out-of-door conflicts with the world. Would not the advice be as excellent and appropriate, if the husband were advised to conquer his fretfulness, and forbear his complaints, in consideration of his wife's ill-health, fatiguing cares, and the thousand disheartening influences of domestic routine? In short, whatsoever can be named as loveliest, best, and most graceful in woman, You would likewise be good and graceful in man.

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will perhaps remind me of courage. If you use the word in its highest signification, I answer, that woman, above others, has abundant need of it in her pilgrimage; and the true woman wears it with a quiet grace. If you mean mere animal courage, that is not mentioned in the Sermon on the Mount, among those qualities which enable us to inherit the earth, or become the children of God. That the feminine ideal approaches much nearer to the gospel standard, than the prevalent idea of manhood, is shown by the universal tendency to represent the Saviour and his most beloved disciple with mild, meek expression, and feminine beauty. None speak of the bravery, the might, or the intellect of Jesus; but the devil is always imagined as a being of acute intellect, political cunning, and the fiercest courage. These universal and instinctive tendencies of the human mind reveal much.

rily cruel. And profligates, who form the lowest and most sensual estimate of women, are the very ones to treat them with an excess of outward deference. There are few books, which I can read through, without feeling insulted as a woman; but this insult is almost universally conveyed through that which was intended for praise. Just imagine, for a moment, what impression it would make on men, if women authors should write about their rosy lips,' and melting eyes, and voluptuous forms, as as they write about us! That women in general do not feel this kind of flattery to be an insult, I readily admit; for, in the first place, they do not perceive the gross chattel-principle, of which it is the utterance; moreover, they have, from long habit, become accustomed to consider themselves as household conveniences, or gilded toys. Hence, they consider it feminine and pretty to abjure all such

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That the present position of women in society is use of their faculties, as would make them cothe result of physical force, is obvious enough; who-workers with man in the advancement of those great soever doubts it, let her reflect why she is afraid to principles, on which the progress of Society depends. go out in the evening without the protection of a There is perhaps no animal,' says Hannah More, man. What constitutes the danger of aggression? so much indebted to subordination, for its good Superior physical strength, uncontrolled by the behaviour, as women.' Alas, for the animal age, in moral sentiments. If physical strength were in which such utterance could be tolerated by public complete subjection to moral influence, there would sentiment! be no need of outward protection. That animal instinct and brute force now govern the world, is painfully apparent in the condition of women every where; from the Morduan Tartars. whose ceremony of marriage consists in placing the bride on a mat, and consigning her to the bridegroom, with the words, Here, wolf, take thy lamb,'-to the German remark, that stiff ale, stinging tobacco, and a girl in her smart dress, are the best things.' The same thing, softened by the refinements of civilization, peeps out in Stephens's remark, that woman never looks so interesting, as when leaning on the arm of a soldier' and in Hazlitt's complaint that it is not I have said enough to show that I consider prevaeasy to keep up a conversation with women in com-lent opinions and customs highly unfavourable to the pany. It is thought a piece of rudeness to differ from them; it is not quite fair to ask them a reason for what they say.'

This sort of politeness to women is what men call gallantry; an odious word to every sensible woman. because she sees that it is merely the flimsy veil which foppery throws over sensuality, to conceal its grossness. So far is it from indicating sincere esteem and affection for women, that the profligacy of a nation may, in general, be fairly measured by its gallantry. This taking away rights, and condescending to grant privileges, is an old trick of the physical-force principle; and with the immense majority, who only look on the surface of things, this mask effectually disguises an ugliness, which would otherwise be abhorred. The most inveterate slaveholders are probably those who take most pride in dressing their household servants handsomely, and who would be most ashamed to have the name of being unnecessa

Martha More, sister of Hannah, describing a very impressive scene at the funeral of one of her Charity School teachers, says: The spirit within seemed struggling to speak, and I was in a sort of agony ; but I recollected that I had heard, somewhere, a woman must not speak in the church. Oh, had she been buried in the church yard, a messenger from Mr. Pitt himself should not have restrained me; for I seemed to have received a message from a higher Master within.'

This application of theological teaching carries its own commentary,

moral and intellectual development of women: and I need not say, that, in proportion to their true cul ture, women will be more useful and happy, and domestic life more perfected. True culture, in them, as in men, consists in the full and free development of individual character, regulated by their own perceptions of what is true, and their own love of what is good.

This individual responsibility is rarely acknowledged, even by the most refined, as necessary to the spiritual progress of women. I once heard a very beautiful lecture from R. W. Emerson, on Being and Seeming. In the course of many remarks, as true as they were graceful, he urged women to be, rather than seem. He told them that all their laboured education of forms, strict observance of genteel etiquette, tasteful arrangement of the toilette, &c., all this seeming would not gain hearts like being truly what God made them; that earnest sim

plicity, the sincerity of nature, would kindle the eye, light up the countenance, and give an inexpres sible charm to the plainest features.

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themselves ennobled and refined by sharing thos duties with them; and will receive, in return operation and sympathy in the discharge of various other duties, now deemed inappropriate to women. The more women become rational companions, part

The advice was excellent, but the motive, by which it was urged, brought a flush of indignation over my face. Men were exhorted to be, ratherners in business and in thought, as well as in affecthan to seem, that they might fulfil the sacred mission for which their souls were embodied; that they might, in God's freedom, grow up into the full stature of spiritual manhood; but women were urged to simplicity and truthfulness, that they might be come more pleasing.

Are we not all immortal beings? Is not each one responsible for himself and herself? There is no measuring the mischief done by the prevailing tendency to teach women to be virtuous as a duty to man rather than to God-for the sake of pleasing the creature, rather than the Creator. God is thy law, thou mine,' said Eve to Adam. May Milton be forgiven for sending that thought out into everlasting time' in such a jewel setting. What weakness, vanity, frivolity, infirmity of moral purpose, sinful flexibility of principle-in a word, what soul-stifling, has been the result of thus putting man in the place of God!

tion and amusement, the more highly will men appreciate home-that blessed word, which opens to the human heart the most perfect glimpse of Heaven, and helps to carry it thither, as on an angel's wings.

Domestic bliss,

That can, the world eluding, be itself
A world enjoyed; that wants no witnesses
But its own sharers and approving heaven;
That, like a flower deep hid in rocky cleft,
Smiles, though 'tis looking only at the sky.'

Alas, for these days of Astor houses, and Tremonts, and Albions! where families exchange comfort for costliness, fireside retirement for flirtation and flaunting, and the simple, healthful, cozy meal, for gravies and gout, dainties and dyspepsia. There is no characteristic of my countrymen, which I regret so deeply, as their slight degree of adhesiveness to home. Closely intertwined with this instinct, is the religion of a nation. The Home and the Church bear a near relation to each other. The French. have no such word as home in their language, and I believe they are the least reverential and religious of all the Christian nations. A Frenchman had been in the habit of visiting a lady constantly for several years, and being alarmed at a report that she was sought in marriage, he was asked why he did not marry her himself. Marry her!' exclaimed he,

The idea of domestic happiness was altogether a foreign idea to his soul, like a word that conveyed no meaning. Religious sentiment in France leads the same roving life as the domestic affections; breakfasting at one restaurateur's and supping at another's. When some wag in Boston reported that Louis Philippe had sent over for Dr. Channing to manufacture a religion for the French people, the witty significance of the joke was generally ap preciated.

But while I see plainly that society is on a false foundation, and that prevailing views concerning women indicate the want of wisdom and purity, which they serve to perpetuate-still, I must acknowledge that much of the talk about Women's Rights offends both my reason and my taste. I am not of those who maintain there is no sex in souls; nor do I like the results deducible from that doctrine. Kinmont, in his admirable book, called the Natural His-Good heavens! where should I spend my evenings ?' tory of Man, speaking of the war-like courage of the ancient German women, and of their being respectfully consulted on important public affairs, says: • You ask me if I consider all this right, and deserving of approbation? or that women were here engaged in their appropriate tasks? I answer, yes; it is just as right that they should take this interest in the honour of their country, as the other sex. Of course, I do not think that women were made for war and battle; neither do I believe that men were. But since the fashion of the times had made it so, and settled it that war was a necessary element of greatness, and that no safety was to be procured without it, I argue that it shows a healthful state of feeling in other respects, that the feelings of both sexes were equally enlisted in the cause: that there was no division in the house, or the state; and that the serious pursuits and objects of the one were also the serious pursuits and objects of the other.'

The nearer society approaches to divine order, the less separation will there be in the characters, duties, and pursuits of men and women. Women will not become less gentle and graceful, but men will become more so. Women will not neglect the care and education of their children, but men will find

There is a deeper spiritual reason why all that relates to the domestic affections should ever be found in close proximity with religious faith. The age of chivalry was likewise one of unquestioning veneration, which led to the crusade for the holy sepulchre. The French revolution, which tore down churches, and voted that there was no God, likewise annulled marriage; and the doctrine, that there is no sex in souls, has usually been urged by those of infidel tendencies. Carlyle says, But what feeling it was in the ancient, devout, deep soul, which of marriage made a sacrament, this, of all things in the world, is what Diderot will think of for æons with out discovering; unless perhaps it were to increase the vestry fees.'

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The conviction that woman's present position in society is a false one, and therefore re-acts disastrously on the happiness and improvement of man, is pressing by slow degrees on the common consciousness, through all the obstacles of bigotry, sensuality, and selfishness. As man approaches to the truest life, he will perceive more and more that there is no separation or discord in their mutual duties. They will be one; but it will be as affection and thought are one: the treble and bass of the same harmonious tune.

THE FORLORN.

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

The night is dark, the stinging sleet,
Swept by the bitter gusts of air,
Drives whistling down the lonely street,
And stiffens on the pavement bare.

The street-lamps flare and struggle dim
Through the white sleet-clouds as they pass,
Or, governed by a boisterous whim,

Drop down and rattle on the glass. One poor, heart-broken, outcast girl Faces the east-wind's searching flaws, And, as about her heart they whirl,

Her tattered cloak more tightly draws. The flat brick walls look cold and bleak, Her bare feet to the sidewalk freeze; Yet dares she not a shelter seek,

Though faint with hunger and disease.

The sharp storm cuts her forehead bare, And, piercing through her garments thin, Beats on her shrunken breast, and there Makes colder the cold heart within.

She lingers where a ruddy glow
Streams outward through an open shutter,
Giving more bitterness to woe,

More loneness to desertion utter.

One half the cold she had not felt,
Until she saw this gush of light

Spread warmly forth, and seem to melt
Its slow way through the deadening night.

She hears a woman's voice within,
Singing sweet words her childhood knew,
And years of misery and sin

Furl off and leave her heaven blue.

Her freezing heart, like one who sinks
Outwearied in the drifting snow,
Drowses to deadly sleep, and thinks
No longer of its hopeless woe :

Old fields, and clear blue summer days,
Old meadows, green with grass and trees,
That shimmer through the trembling haze
And whiten in the western breeze,—
Old faces, all the friendly past

Rises within her heart again,
And sunshine from her childhood cast
Makes summer of the icy rain.
Enhaloed by a mild, warm glow,
From all humanity apart,
She hears old footsteps wandering slow
Through the lone chambers of her heart.
Outside the porch before the door,

Her cheek upon the cold, hard stone,
She lies, no longer foul and poor,
No longer dreary and alone.
Next morning, something heavily

Against the opening door did weigh,
And there, from sin and sorrow free,
A woman on the threshold lay.
A smile upon the wan lips told

That she had found a calm release,
And that, from out the want and cold,

The song had borne her soul in peace. For, whom the heart of man shuts out, Straightway the heart of God takes in, And fences them all round about

With silence mid the world's loud din; And one of his great charities

Is Music, and it doth not scorn To close the lids upon the eyes

Of the polluted and forlorn;

Far was she from her childhood's home,
Farther in guilt had wandered thence,
Yet thither it had bid her come
To die in maiden innocence.

OLD MAIDS.

BY HANS VON SPIRGEL.

I am a lover of all woman kind,

And maidens old are not old maids to me. Though beauty flees, there still remains the mind, And mind is surely better company!

What though the harp be new and trimmed with gold;
Does sweeter music tremble in its tone
Than when the gaudy polish has grown old,
And nought is left but sweet accord alone?
Or is the gem held in less high esteem,

Because the casket is defaced by time?
A woman's mind, a priceless gem I deem ;-
Her heart, a harp that music yields sublime.
So wonder not that years hide not from me
The jewel's glow-the harp's sweet melody.

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