Of heaven and earth! ESSENTIAL PRESENCE, hail!
To THEE I bend the knee; to THEE my thoughts
Continual climb; who, with a master hand,
Hast the great whole into perfection touch’d.
By THEE various vegetative tribes,
Wrapt in a filmy net and clad with leaves,
Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew.
By THEE disposed into cogenial foils,
Stands each attractive plant, and sucks, and swells
The juicy tide; a twining mass of tubes.
At THY command, the vernal sun awakes
The torpid sap, detruded to the root
By wintry winds; which now in fluent dance,
And lively fermentation, mounting spreads
All this inumerous-colour’d scene of things.”
Aided in our observations by this pathetic and pious writer, our hearts
beat responsive to the sentiments of gratitude, which he indirectly, yet
most forcibly inculcates in that devout address to the Supreme Parent:
“——Were every faltering tongue of man,
Almighty Father! silent in thy praise,
Thy works themselves would raise a general voice,
Even in the depth of solitary woods,
By human foot untrod: proclaim the power,
And to the quire celestial Thee resound,
Th’ eternal cause, support, and End of all!”
By this beautiful poem we are allured to the study of nature, and to the
contemplation of nature’s God. Our hearts glow with devotion and love to
the sovereign Lord and benefactor of the universe; and we are drawn, by
the innumerable displays of his goodness, to the practice of virtue and
religion.
You may, possibly call me an enthusiast. Be it so. Yet I contend for the
honor, but especially for the privilege, of being a cheerful one. For I
think we dishonor our heavenly father by attaching any thing gloomy or
forbidding to his character. In this participation of divine blessings,
let us rather exercise a thankful, and contented disposition.
I remain your’s most affectionately.
CAROLINE LITTLETON.
_To Mrs._ WILLIAMS.
BOSTON.
DEAR MADAM,
By her desire in conjunction with my own inclination, I inform you that
Harriot Henly, is no more——Yesterday she gave her hand, and renounced
her name together; threw aside the sprightly girl we have been so long
accustomed to admire, and substituted in her place the dignified and
respectable head of a family, in Mrs. Farmington.
Have I not lost my amiable friend and associate! Will not her change of
situation tend to lessen our intercourse, and alienate our affections?
When I contemplate the social circle, so firmly cemented in the bands of
friendship, at the boarding school, where the most perfect harmony, ease
and satisfaction presided, I recoil at the idea of becoming less dear,
less interesting, and less necessary to each other. It is with the
utmost reluctance that I admit the idea of rivals to that affection and
benevolence which we have, so long, and so sincerely interchanged.
The charm however is broken. Harriot is already married; and my friends
are extremely solicitous that I should follow her example. But in a
connexion which requires so many precautions, before it is formed, and
such uninterrupted circumspection and prudence afterwards; the great
uncertainty of the event inspires me with timidity and apprehension.
Harriot put into my hands, and I read with pleasure, the book which you
recommended to her on the subject. But still we wished for your
instruction and advice. The sentiments of a person so dear and
interesting to us, are particularly calculated to engage our attention,
and influence our conduct. Relying, too, on your judgment and
experience, your forming pen may render us more worthy objects of
attachment.
We, however, unite in assuring you of our gratitude for all past
favours; and in presenting our sincere regards to the young ladies.
I am, with great respect, your affectionate and grateful
LAURA GUILFORD.
_To Miss_ LAURA GUILFORD.
HARMONY-GROVE.
DEAR LAURA,
The obligations under which you lay me, by your generous confidence, and
affectionate expressions of regard, induce me again to assume the
Preceptress towards you, and to gratify your wishes, by imparting my
sentiments on your present situation and prospects.
I am told by my daughter, who had the honor of bearing your letter, that
you are what I always expected you would be, an object of general
admiration. Yet, I trust, your good sense will enable you duly to
distinguish and treat the several candidates for your favor.
It is, indeed, my young friend, a matter of the most serious
consequence, which lies upon your mind, and awakens your anxiety. Your
friends are studious of your welfare, and kindly concerned that the
important die on which the happiness of your life depends, should be
judiciously cast. You doubtless remember, that I discoursed upon this
subject in my concluding lessons to your class.
Disparity of tempers, among other things which were then suggested, and
which you will doubtless recollect, was represented, as tending to
render life uncomfortable. But there are other disparities which may be
equally hostile to your peace.
Disparity of years is very apt to occasion the indulgence of passions
destructive of conjugal felicity. The great difference between the
sprightly vivacity, and enterprise of youth, and the deliberate caution,
phlegmatic coldness, and sententious wisdom of age render them very
unpleasant companions to each other. Marriage between persons of these
opposite descriptions is commonly the result of pecuniary motives, with
one party, at least: the suspicion of this, in the other, must
necessarily produce discontent, uneasiness, and disaffection.
Age is naturally jealous of respect, and apprehensive of being slighted.
The most trifling and unmeaning inattentions will therefore be construed
amiss. For an excessive desire of being objects of supreme regard is
almost invariably accompanied with a strong persuasion of being the
reverse. Hence accusations, reproaches and restraints, on the one side,
produce disgust, resentment and alienation on the other, till mutual and
unceasing wretchedness ensue. Indeed, where interest alone, without this
inequality of years, is the principal inducement, marriage is seldom
happy. Esteem and love are independent of wealth and its appendages.
They are not to be sold or bought. The conjugal relation is so near and
interesting, the mind as well as the person is so intimately concerned
in it, that something more substantial and engaging than gold is
requisite to make it a blessing.
Marriage, being the commencement of a domestic life, beside the many
agreeable circumstances attending it, has its peculiar cares and
troubles which require the solace of a companion actuated by better
principles, and possessed of more amiable endowments than outward
splendor and magnificence can afford. In the hour of sickness and
distress, riches it is true, can bestow bodily comforts and cordials;
but can they be made an equivalent for the tender sympathy, the
endearing kindness, and the alleviating attention of a bosom friend,
kindly assiduous to ease our pains, animate our prospects, and beguile
the languid moments which elude all other consolations? The sorrows as
well as the joys of a family state, are often such as none but a bosom
friend can participate. The heart must be engaged before it can repose
with ease and confidence. To a lady of sensibility, the confinement of
the body, without the consent and union of according minds, must be a
state of inexpressible wretchedness.
Another situation, not less to be deplored, is a connexion with the
immoral and profane.
How shocking must it be, to hear that sacred NAME, which you revere and
love, constantly treated with levity and irreverence! And how painful
the necessity of being constrained, for the sake of peace, to witness in
silence, and without even the appearance of disapprobation, the most
shameful outrages upon religion and virtue! May you never taste the
bitterness of this evil.
Intemperance is a vice, which one would imagine no lady would overlook
in a suitor. But, strange to tell! there are those even among our own
sex, who think and speak of inebriation in the other, at the jovial and
well furnished board, as a mark of conviviality and good fellowship.
How degrading and how dreadful must this enormity appear to an
interested, affectionate and virtuous wife! What agonizing pangs of
mortification and anguish must she endure, when she meets him, in whose
society she delights; whose return she has anticipated with impatience,
and whose happiness and honor are the moving springs of her life,
intoxicated with wine; the powers of his mind suspended by the poisonous
cup, and every faculty absorbed in the deadly draught! What a perpetual
source of dread and apprehension must hence arise; and how often must
the blush of indignant virtue and wounded delicacy be called forth.
The gamester is an equally dangerous companion. His family is robbed,
not only of his company and his talents, but of that property, to the
benefit of which they have an indisputable claim. His earnings are
squandered among worthless and profligate associates abroad; while the
fruitful partner of his life, and perhaps, too, a rising offspring,
languish at home for want of bread!
How fatal is the tendency of such examples! How can that father
inculcate the duties of piety, virtue and decency, who exhibits the
reverse of each in his own conduct? And under what an unspeakable
disadvantage, must that mother labor, in the instruction and education
of her children, whose admonitions, counsels, and directions are
practically counteracted by him who ought to bear an equal share of the
burden! The government and superintendence of a family are objects of
such magnitude and importance, that the union and co-operation of its
heads are indispensably necessary. It is a little commonwealth; and if
internal feuds and dissentions arise, anarchy and confusion must ensue.
Domestic happiness is the foundation of every other species. At times,
indeed, we may enjoy ourselves abroad, among our friends—but a good
heart will return home, as to the seat of felicity.
“——Home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where
Supporting and supported, polish’d friends
And dear relations mingle into bliss.”
Since so much, then, depends upon a judicious choice, how important is
it, that you examine well before you decide; and that you dispense with
no quality in the man to whom you shall give your hand, which is
essential to the virtue and happiness of your life. For this purpose,
consult your judgment rather than your fancy; and suffer not superficial
accomplishments, but solid merit to preponderate.
I have now endeavored to point out the most apparent and threatening
dangers to which you may be exposed. But though these are avoided, many
unforeseen accidents will doubtless occur to cloud your sanguine hopes.
These, when there are no vices to produce them, may arise from follies,
and from the indulgence of erroneous expectations. Little
misunderstandings sometimes occasion disagreements which terminate in
coldness and disaffection, and plant a root of bitterness which can
hardly be eradicated.
Let prudence, therefore, be your pole-star, when you enter the married
state. Watch with the greatest circumspection over yourself; and always
exercise the tenderest affection, the most unwearied patience, and the
most cheerful acquiescence in the treatment of your companion. Guard
especially against being affected by those little inattentions and
foibles, which too often give pain and umbrage without design; and
produce those remonstrances, criminations, and retorts, which are the
great inlets of strife, and bane of love.
You must bear with calmness, every thing that the sincerest desire of
peace can dictate; and studiously avoid every expression, and even look,
which may irritate and offend. Your own happiness, you will consider so
intimately connected with that of your husband, as to be inseparable;
and consequently, that all your hopes of comfort in this life, and
perhaps too, in the next, depend upon your conducting with propriety and
wisdom towards him.
I take the liberty, through you, to convey my congratulations to Mrs.
Farmington. May her change of condition be happy, to the full extent of
our most sanguine expectations, and benevolent wishes. I fully intended
writing her on the subject, but having unwarily bestowed so much time
upon you, that for the present, I must forego the pleasure. Some things
in this letter, which you will doubtless communicate, are applicable to
her case. These she will receive as friendly hints from me; and I am
confident that her known discretion will continue to shed a benign and
engaging influence upon her whole deportment and render her uniformly
respected and beloved.
The bearer is waiting, and I can only add, that I remain your sincere
and affectionate friend.
MARY WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
BOSTON.
DEAR CLEORA,
The pleasing hope with which you inspired me, when we parted last, of
receiving a visit from you in town, has been constantly cherished. I
have anticipated your arrival with the utmost impatience; but have
endeavored, notwithstanding, to beguile the slow-paced hours by a useful
and pleasing occupation; the revision of my geographical studies.
My papa has kindly procured me Doctor Morse’s last and much improved
edition of Universal Geography, which with the assistance of a pair of
globes he possessed, has afforded me the most delightful entertainment.
When at school, I thought this the most agreeable study allotted me;
never deeming it a task, but an amusement.
It affords me, as it must every true American, the sincerest pleasure to
be furnished with the means of acquiring this favorite science, by my
own countryman; and the spirit of Columbian independence exults in my
bosom, at the idea of being able to gain an accurate acquaintance with
my own and other countries, without recourse to the labors of
foreigners.
I think the present generation are under special obligations to the
active industry of Dr. Morse, in providing us with that necessary and
rich fund of information, which his Geography and Gazeteer contain. From
these sources we may derive a sufficient knowledge of the world we
inhabit, without departing from our domestic sphere.
Come then, my dear Cleora, and without fatigue or expense, we will make
the tour of the globe together. After investigating the local situation
of different and distant climes, we will turn to the historic page, and
examine the manners, government, character and improvements of their
inhabitants. We will traverse the frozen wastes of the frigid zones, and
the burning sands of the equatorial region; then return and bless the
temperate and happy medium in which we are placed; and casting an eye
around, exult in our peculiar advantages of soil and situation, peace
and good government, virtue and religion.
The fine mornings of this season afford many delightful hours, before
the heat of the day relaxes the mind and enervates the body. Come, then,
enjoy and improve these, in concert with your faithful and affectionate
friend,
JULIA GREENFIELD.
_To Miss_ MATILDA FIELDING.
HARMONY-GROVE.
DEAR MATILDA,
Last Thursday, after having concluded the usual occupations and
sedentary amusements of the day, I walked out, towards evening, to enjoy
the benefit of a cool and fragrant air, and the serenity and beauty of
those rural scenes which have a powerful tendency to soothe and
tranquillize the mind. When I had rambled in the fields to a
considerable distance, I crossed into the road, to return home free from
the inconvenience of the dew, which had begun to fall.
I had not proceeded far, when I observed a female, who had the
appearance of youth and misfortune, sitting by the wall in a pensive
attitude, with an infant in her lap. When I approached her, she arose,
and in the most humble and pathetic accents, besought me to direct her
to some shelter, where she might repose her weary limbs for the night.
The aspect and language of distress awakened my compassion. To know she
really needed charity, was a sufficient inducement with me to bestow it,
without scrupulously inquiring whether she deserved it or not. I
therefore told her to follow me, and I would conduct her to a lodging.
As we walked on, I questioned her respecting the place of her nativity,
her parentage, and the reason of her being reduced to the situation in
which I had found her. She informed me that she was born in Ireland:
that her parents brought her into this country before her remembrance;
that while she was very young, they both died, and left her to the
protection and mercy of strangers; that she was bandied one from
another, in the village where Providence had cast her lot, till she was
able to earn her own living: “and since that time,” said she, “I believe
the character of an honest and industrious girl will not be refused me.”
How then, said I, came you by this incumbrance? pointing to the child.
“In that,” replied she, “I am very guilty. Brought up in ignorance of
those principles of decency, virtue, and religion, which have kept you
innocent, Madam, I was ruined by a deceitful man, who, under the mask of
love, and with the most solemn promises of marriage, betrayed my
confidence, and left me to reap the bitter fruits of my credulity. The
woman where I lived, when she discovered my situation, ordered me to
leave her house immediately. It was no matter, said she, how much I
suffered, or what became of me. On my own head, she told me, my iniquity
should fall; she would not lighten the burden, if it were in her power.
“Some of the neighbors informed me, that she had reason to be severe
upon my fault, being once in the same condemnation herself.
“Having no friend who could assist me, I applied to the selectmen of the
town, who provided for me till I was able to work, and then told me I
must shift for myself; offering, however, to keep the child, which I
refused, being determined that it should never suffer for want of a
mother’s care, while I had life.
“I am now wandering in pursuit of employment, that the labor of my hands
may support myself and little one. This has been often denied me, either
for fear my child should be troublesome, or because my character was
suspected. I have sometimes suffered so much from fatigue and want, that
I have despaired of relief, and heartily wished both myself and babe in
the grave.”
On examination, I found her knowledge confined entirely to domestic
drudgery; that she had never been taught either to read or write. She
appears, notwithstanding, to have good natural sense; and a quickness of
apprehension, and readiness of expression, seldom equalled in her sphere
of life.
I conducted her into the kitchen, and desired she might have supper and
a bed provided for her. My mamma, whose benevolent heart and liberal
hand are always ready to relieve the necessitous, was pleased to approve
my conduct; and having kept her through the next day, and observed her
disposition and behaviour, hired her as a servant; and we have reason to
believe, from her apparent fidelity and grateful exertions, that our
kindness will be well repaid. I have even extended my charity further,
and undertaken to teach her to read. She is very tractable; and I expect
to be amply rewarded for my labor, by her improvements.
Indeed, Matilda, it is melancholy to see our fellow-creatures reared up,
like the brute creation; neither instructed how to live above their
animal appetites, nor how to die as Christians, when they have finished
their toilsome career!
This girl is only seventeen. Her age, therefore, as well as her docility
and submissiveness, encourage the pleasing hope of restoring her to the
paths of rectitude and peace. I shall endeavor, as opportunity offers,
to instil into her susceptible mind, the principles of virtue and
religion; and, perhaps, I may lead her to the love and practice of both,
and render her a useful member of society. Her fate impresses more
forcibly than ever, on my mind, the importance of a good education, and
the obligations it confers. Had you or I been subjected to the same
ignorance, and the same temptations, who can say that we should have
conducted better? How many fall for want of the directing hand of that
parental love and friendship, with which we are blessed! Contrasting our
situation with hers, how much have we to account for, and how
inexcusable shall we be, if we violate our duty, and forfeit our
dignity, as reasonable creatures.
That extreme bitterness and acrimony, which is sometimes indulged
against persons who are unhappily seduced from the way of virtue, may
operate as a discouragement to all designs and endeavors to regain it;
whereas, the soothing voice of forgiveness, and the consequent prospect
of being restored to reputation and usefulness, might rouse the
attention, and call forth the exertions of some, at least, who through
despair of retrieving their characters, abandon themselves to vice, and
adopt a course, alike disgraceful to their sex, and to human nature.
But though I advocate the principles of philanthropy and Christian
charity, as extending to some very special cases, I am far from
supposing this fault generally capable of the least extenuation.
Whatever allowance may be made for those, whose ignorance occasions
their ruin, no excuse can be offered for others, whose education, and
opportunities for knowing the world and themselves, have taught them a
better lesson.
I need not, however, be at the pains to enforce this truth upon you:
and, as my head is so full of the subject, that I have no disposition to
write upon any thing else, I will put an end to this incoherent scroll,
by annexing the name of your sincere and faithful friend,
MARIA WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ CAROLINE LITTLETON.
BOSTON.
DEAR CAROLINE,
Happening to be in my chamber, this morning, the maid came running up
stairs in such violent haste, as to put herself fairly out of breath.
Will you be so kind, Miss Sophia, said she, as to lend me a quarter of a
dollar? I put my hand into my pocket, and found I had no small change. I
have nothing less than a dollar, Susan, said I; but if it is a matter of
consequence to you, I will go to my mamma, and procure it for you. She
was loath to give me that trouble; but, if I would, it would really
oblige her very much indeed. Her solicitude excited my curiosity. Will
you inform me what you want it for? said I. O yes; she believed it was
no harm—But there was a woman in the wood-house who told fortunes; and
she wished to know hers, but could not without the money. A woman who
tells fortunes! said I. What fortunes? the past or the future? The
future, to be sure, Ma’am, replied she. Ay, how does she know them? said
I. Has she been let into the secret designs of Providence? or can she
divine the mysteries of fate? She tells fortunes by cards, Ma’am, said
she; and I really believe she tells true. Can you imagine, said I, that
a knowledge of your destiny in life, is to be gained from any possible
arrangement of a pack of cards? Why not Ma’am? Many people have been
told exactly what was to happen. You may depend on it, Susan, said I,
you are deceived. The Almighty who disposes all events according to his
sovereign pleasure, does not unveil futurity to mortals, especially to
such mortals, who by an idle, vicious course of life, counteract his
laws, and disregard his authority. I would willingly give you the money,
twice told, if you needed it; but I cannot consent to your being imposed
on by this worthless vagrant, who has no other design than to pick your
pocket.
The girl departed at these words; and though I felt an emotion of regret
at refusing to gratify her, yet my reason and conscience forbad my being
accessary to the fraud.
This curiosity to explore the hidden counsels of the Most High, prevails
not only among servants, but even many from whom better things might be
expected, are under its infatuating influence.
The Supreme Being has, for wise and benevolent reasons, concealed from
us the future incidents of our lives. A humble reliance on his power and
goodness, accompanied with a cheerful submission to the dispensations of
his providence, is what the Lord our God requireth of us.
I have heard my mamma relate an anecdote of a particular friend of hers,
who was imposed on very seriously in this way.