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THE 

YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR 

OB, 

©ttilitus  snlr  lllttstntimts 

OP 

THE  SPHERE,  THE  DUTIES,  AND  THE  DANGERS 

OP 

YOUNG  WOMEN. 


DESIGNED  TO  BE  A  GUIDE  TO  TRUE  HAPPINESS  IN  THIS 
LIFE,  AND  TO  GLOEY  IN  THE  LIFE  WHICH  IS  TO  COME. 


BY  REV.  DANIEL  WISE,  A.  M., 

AUTHOR  OF  "TIIE  YOUNG  MAN'8  COUNSELLOR,"  "  BRIDAL  GREETINGS," 
"PATH  OP  LIFE,"  "GUIDE  TO  TUB  SAVIOUR,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


FORTY-SECOND   THOUSAND. 

PUBLISHED   BY   CARLTON    &    PORTER, 

200   MULBERRY-STREET. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1851, 
BY  DAXIEL  WISE, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of 
Massachusetts. 


Insmjtuorn. 


TO 

THE  YOUNG  WOMEN  OF  AMERICA, 

IS  INSCRIBED  WITH  FRATERNAL  AFFECTION  BY  THEIR 
SINCERE  FRIEND  AND  WELL-WISHER, 

DANIEL  WISE 


PREFACE. 


The  importance  of  female  culture  cannot  be  too 
highly  estimated,  especially  in  this  country,  where 
our  institutions  depend  on  the  virtue  of  the  people. 
A  self-governed  nation  must  be  both  intelligent  and 
religious  ;  for  if  a  principle  of  moral  restraint  dwells 
not  in  the  breast  of  a  man,  he  cannot  live  peacefully 
in  society,  without  the  terror  of  some  external,  con- 
straining force.  Society  must  sink  into  a  state  of 
anarchy,  from  which  a  relentless  despotism  will  be 
evolved,  unless  it  feels  the  moral  force  of  the  senti- 
ment of  duty.  And  on  what  agency  are  we  to  de- 
pend for  the  creation  and  cultivation  of  this  mighty 
conservative  idea  of  duty,  in  the  teeming  millions  of 
our  future  population  ?  Are  our  pulpits  and  our 
educational  appliances  sufficient  to  accomplish  this 
great  work  ?  Nay !  That  they  are  indispensable 
and  potent  instrumentalities,  that  they  cannot  be 
too  highly  appreciated  or  earnestly  supported,  is 
freely  admitted ;  but  there  is  a  power  behind  the 
school-room  and  the  church,  which  is  capable  of 
neutralizing  the  efforts  of  both.     Maternal  influence, 


VI  PREFACE. 

acting  on  the  infant  mind  in  its  first  stage  of  impress- 
ibility, stamps  an  almost  ineffaceable  image  of  good 
or  evil  upon  it,  long  before  it  can  be  made  to  feel  the 
power  of  the  teacher  or  the  minister.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  multiplied,  earnest  endeavors  to  promote 
the  growth  of  the  loftiest  and  holiest  traits  of  mind 
and  heart,  in  the  young  women  who  are  destined  to 
be  the  mothers  of  a  succeeding  generation,  and,  con- 
sequently, to  exert  that  fearful  influence,  which, 
more  than  all  others,  will  determine  its  character. 
This  book  is  an  humble  but  earnest  effort  to  stimu- 
late and  direct  the  growth  of  female  mind,  and  there- 
by to  fit  it  for  the  fulfilment  of  its  high  earthly  mis- 
sion, and  for  felicity  in  the  world  of  spirits.  If  God 
will  be  pleased  to  make  it  a  dew-drop  of  love,  beauty, 
and  fertility  in  the  spirits  of  some  of  the  daughters 
of  our  land,  the  highest  ambition  of  the  author  will 
be  satisfied. 

D.  W. 
Elm  Street  Parsonage,        ) 
New  Bedford,  Aug.  1851  ) 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE  MISTAKE  OP  A  LIFETIME. 

The  death-bed  of  a  royal  lady  —  A  spectacle  of  sadness  —The  mistake 
of  her  lifetime  —  A  fear  expressed  —  An  appeal  to  the  reader's  views 
of  life— Her  mistake  — The  alchemist  —  His  home  described— His 
theory  and  labors  —  His  fate — Contempt  for  his  folly  —  A  similar 
folly  described — Voices  of  revelation  and  experience  —  Poetical 
extract  —  A  vital  question  proposed — A  poet's  answer  — The  answer 
of  inspiration  —  Relation  of  the  visible  world  to  the  mind  — Quota- 
tion from  Schiller — Bees  and  flowers  —  The  laboratory  of  bliss  —  A 
poet  on  the  Alps  —  Beautiful  description  of  an  Alpine  storm  —  Power 
of  the  mind  over  nature  —  The  mind  independent  of  social  evils  —  The 
sick  maiden  —  Her  poverty,  sufferings  and  bliss  —  The  masquerade  — 
Miserable  minds  in  places  of  pleasure  —  The  mind  its  own  heaven  or 
hell  —  Unpalatable  truth  —  The  despised  herb  —  The  lock  of  hair  — 
Danger  of  scorning  truth  —  A  happy  escape, 13 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  FOUNTAIN   OF  LIFE  UNSEALED. 

Tho  Alpine  fir-tree  —  Happiness  must  be  brought  into  the  heart  —  Pic- 
ture of  a  soul  trusting  to  its  own  resources  —  Lessons  from  the  lips  of 
Jesus  —  The  fountain  of  living  bliss  —  Goddess  of  Grecian  mythology 

—  A  famine  described  —  A  national  enigma  —  Its  solution — The 
evils  of  life  —  How  to  view  them  calmly  —  Picture  by  a  German  artist 

—  Loneliness  of  woman's  lot  renders  religion  necessary  —  Opinion  of 
the  Duchess  of  Newcastle  —  The  rich  joy  of  a  religious  mind  —  The 
subterranean  homes  of  the  polar  regions  —  Religion  renders  woman 


CONTENTS. 


independent  of  outward  circumstances  —  The  ancient  Christian,  with 
his  arms  of  faith  and  love  —  Quotation  from  Vaughn—  The  piano  — 
Its  wires  —  The  tuner  —  The  mind  out  of  tune  —  Religion  necessary 
to  impart  high  womanly  qualities  —  Schiller's  Queen  of  Spain — Falre 
jewels  —  Life  like  a  natural  flower, 33 


CHAPTER    III. 

INFLUENCE. 

The  vain  request  —  Influence  eternal  — What  influence  is  —  We  must 
exert  influence  —  The  cathedral  and  its  mystic  organ  — The  choice  — 
The  dread  alternative  —  An  old  English  castle  —  Queen  Judith  and 
her  influence  —  Incredulity  of  the  reader  removed  —  Woman's  influ- 
ence peculiar — Mothers  of  Augustine,  Washington,  Oberlin  and  Wes- 
ley—  Their  influence  on  the  characters  of  their  sons  —  The  broken 
dyke  —  The  heroic  boy — His  motive  —  Responsibility  of  a  young 
lady's  position  —  The  weed  on  the  farm  —  Effect  of  consecrated  influ- 
ence —  Adhesion  of  plate-glass  -  Invisibility  of  influence  —  The 
punctured  eye  —  Unconscious  influence  of  a  sister  —  Distance  be- 
tween an  act  and  its  final  consequences  —  The  lost  arrow  found  —  Re- 
membered music  —  The  praying  mother  —  Her  death  —  Apparent 
death  of  her  influence  —  Its  harvest  —  Buchanan  —  Judson  —  Scott  — 
Legh  Richmond  —  Rev.  J.  Newton  —  Louisa  of  Savoy  an  example 
of  evil  influence  —  A  fancy  —  Influence  not  the  result  of  wealth  and 
station  —  The  Syrian  damsel  —  The  evening  party  —  Idle  wishes  — 
Fruit  of  a  careless  word — An  appeal  in  favor  of  religion, 55 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  TRUE  SPHERE  OP  WOMAN. 

J  Dan  of  Arc  and  Hannah  More — Their  deeds  —  Repugnance  to  former 
—  Love  for  the  latter  —  These  feelings  instinctive  and  universal  — 
Queen  Elizabeth  —  Martha  Glar  — Jael  — Volumnia  and  Virgilia — 
Lady  Jane  Grey  —  Queen  Victoria  —  A  law  of  the  mind  —  Claims  set 
up  for  women  —  Protest  of  woman's  nature  —  Sustained  by  the  Gos- 
pel —  Christ's  truth  made  a  Mary,  a  Dorcas,  a  Lydia—  Martyrs  —  Did 
not  change  the  sphere  of  women  —  The  lady's  surprise  —  The  pas- 
tor's answer  —  A  great  truth — Diversity  of  sphere  not  inferiority 
of  employment  —  Woman's  sphere  described  —  Ship  at  sea  —  The 


CONTENTS. 


stormy  petrel  —  The  land  bird  —  Fatal  consequences  of  wandering 
from  an  appointed  sphere — John  Adams  and  Gen.  Howe  — J.  Q. 
Adams'  tribute  to  his  mother  —  Kant  —  Pascal — Martyn —  "Woman's 
mission  gratifying  to  ambition  —  Pleasure  of  her  mission — Washing- 
ton and  his  mother  at  a  festal  scene— Eeligion  needed  to  fit  a  young 
lady  for  her  work.  ; SO 


CHAPTER  V. 

LOVELINESS  OP   SPIRIT. 

Character  of  Lucy — A  lovely  spirit  the  central  star  in  female  character 

—  Woman's  sceptre  and  sword  —  Its  strength  —  Ossian's  maid  of 
Luth  a  — Loveliness  the  offspring  of  high  qualities  —  The  maniac  — 
The  little  girl  —  The  proffered  gift— Victory  of  love  over  madness  — 
The  market-woman  and  her  idiot  boy  —  The  death  chamber  — Love 
and  idiocy  —  The  abbey  —  Cazotte  and  his  daughter  —  A  thrilling 
scene  —  Love  subduing  the  spirit  of  assassins  — An  inference  —  The 
argument  applied — Cornelia  and  the  Gracchi  —  The  Eomans  and 
their  marble  statues  —  A  great  truth  — How  loveliness  wins  its  tri- 
umphs—William Wirt  to  his  daughter— Annette  and  Frederick  — 
The  happy  discovery  —  Cains  Marius  and  the  Gallic  soldier  —  Mental 
impressions  —  Mind  must  possess  the  qualities  it  imprints  on  others 

—  Effects  of  seeking  lovely  spirit  —  The  twin  children  —  Sympathy 

—  Extract  from  Schiller  —  Posa's  question  to  Philip  — Loveliness 
not  natural  in  woman,  not  attainable  by  human  strength — Job's  con- 
fession—  Paul's  experience — Divine  help  necessary  to  genuine  love- 
liness  102 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SELF-EELIANCE. 

The  Swiss  huntsman — The  discovered  treasure — The  enchantment  of 
gold  — The  fatal  rock— The  hunter's  death  — Pity  for  his  fate— A 
kindred  folly  — The  future  sacrificed  to  the  present— A  first  duty— 
Fitness  for  the  emergencies  of  life  — The  ivy  and  the  oak  — A  dis- 
credited saying  —  Madame  Letitia— Pictures  of  Marie  Antoinette  — 
Mournful  illustration  of  the  uncertainty  of  hope  — The  illustration 
applied — Independence  on  the  question  of  marriage  secured  by  self- 
reliance— Marrying  for  a  settlement  — Superior  position  of  a  self- 


10  CONTENTS. 


dependent  woman  —  Morvale's  firmness  —  Advance  into  life  bring* 
changes  —  Creates  necessity  for  self-reliance  —  A  great  fact  —  Fallen 
women  —  Influence  of  poverty  on  their  fall —  Self-reliance  might  have 
saved  them  —  Effect  of  self-reliance  in  women  on  observers  —  The  two 
queens  —  Marie  Antoinette's  failure  in  a  crisis  —  Queen  Esther's  suc- 
cess in  a  great  exigency  —  Causes  of  Marie's  failure — Of  Esther's 
success  —  Elements  of  self-reliance, 128 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  SECRET  SPRINGS   OF   SELF-RELIANCE. 

The  emir's  daughter  —  Her  love  —  Her  pursuit  and  its  success  —  Her 
folly  —  Rash  self-reliance  described — True  self-reliance  —  A  decided 
mind  one  of  its  springs  —  Example  of  Pizarro  —  Consecration  to  the 
idea  of  duty  —  Effect  on  the  feelings  in  view  of  danger  —  Illustrated 
by  Empress  Josephine's  affection  for  Napoleon  —  Extract  from  Joanna 
Eaillie  —  Courage  a  spring  of  self-reliance  —  The  mother  of  Jonathan 
Harrington — Necessity  of  courage — Use  of  in  woman  —  Count 
Alberti  and  his  noble  wife—  Ayxa  the  sultana  —  Poetic  extract  — 
Learning  how  to  support  self — Henry  Laurens  to  his  daughters  — 
Madame  de  Genlis  —  Education  a  means  of  support  —  Skill  in  needle- 
work—  Life  in  a  factory  considered —  Labor  not  degrading— Madame 
Roland — Mary  Dwight  —  Trust  in  God  —  Paul  at  the  Roman  tri- 
bunal,    152 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

OF  SELF-CULTURE. 

Ethwald's  character  —  Sameness  of  human  hearts  —  Seed  of  good  and 
ill  —  Culture  a  condition  of  growth  —  Sculptures  in  museums  —  Rela- 
tion of  skill  and  beauty  —  Diversity  of  female  character  —  Vain  women 
--Artful,  selfish,  malicious  women  —  Slanderers  —  Model  women  — 
The  difference  explained  —  Self-culture  urged  —  Encouraged  —  Extract 
from  De  Montfort  —  The  embroidery  pattern  —  Correct  aim  necessary 
—  Mutual  relations  of  mind  and  body  —  Health  must  be  cared  for  — 
Intellectual  culture  —  Reading  for  pleasure —  Novels  —  Their  relation 
to  pleasure  and  to  character  —  Their  irreligious  tendency  —  Object  of 
reading — How  to  find  pleasure  in  reading  —  The  Bible  —  How  to  read 
it  —  Moral  culture  — A  secret  —  Jeanie  Deans  —  Princess  Elizabeth  — 
A  comparison  —  Constantino  to  Victoria — Impulses  — The  sinking 


CONTENTS.  11 


boat  —  The  runaway  horses  —  Ascendency  of  the  will  —  How  main- 
tained—  Dress  and  amusements  in  their  relation  to  self-culture — The 
lady  and  her  lost  pearls  —  A  lesson  on  improving  opportunities  — 
Self-reproach  —  Divine  aids  —  Present  moment  precious,  .  .  .         177 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOMF 

Tullia  —  Her  unwomanly  and  unfilial  character — Resemblances  to  her 
character  —  Beauty  of  filial  love  —  A  scene  of  suffering  —  A  daugh- 
ter's sacrifice —  Her  reward  —  De  Sombreuil's  daughter  and  the  glass 
of  blood  —  How  to  manifest  filial  affection — God's  approval  of  filial 
love  —  Sisterly  affection — Its  influence  on  the  pleasure  of  home  — 
How  to  be  exhibited  —  Influence  on  a  brother  —  Jane  de  Montfort's 
love  —  The  horticulturist  and  his  young  trees  —  Home  a  social 
nursery  —  Beauty  of  home— Its  adaptations  to  fit  for  future  life  — 
Golden  seeds — Golden  harvests  —  Sheaves  —  Pleasant  recollections  — 
A  brightening  home, 200 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME. 

First  lessons  of  life  inaccurate  —  Moonlit  landscape  —  Lessons  of  expe- 
rience—  The  school — Siebenk&s  and  his  wife  — The  end  of  school 
education  —  Its  seriousness  —  Should  be  seriously  treated  —  Effect  of 
appreciating  its  aims  —  The  dull  scholar  encouraged  —  Jenny  Lind's 
perseverance  and  triumph — School  manners  —  111  manners  at  schoo, 

—  Source  of  good  manners — Benevolence  a  duty  —  The  orienta» 
ascetic  —  The  glass  of  water — The  well  —  Private  and  associated 
benevolence  —  The  Sabbath  school — Tracts — Visiting  the  sick  — 
Pseudo  reformers  to  be  avoided  —  Travelling  alone  dangerous  —  Alien 

—  A  caution, 215 


CHAPTER    XI. 

COURTSHIP   AND  MARRIAGE. 

The  two  trees  — The  divided  heights  —  Images  of  marriage  —  Falso 
notions  of  marriage  —  Magic  castles  —  Marriage  important— Desira- 


12  CONTENTS. 


ble  —  Hasty  marriages  improper  —  Single  life  better  than  a  bad  mar- 
riage—  Picture  of  a  miserable  wife — What  is  marriage  —  Relation  of 
affection  to  genuine  marriage  —  Injurious  ideas —  Nonsensical  views 
of  love  — The  affections  controlled  by  reason  —  Courtship —  Its  object 
—  A  lover's  character  to  be  studied  —  A  vital  test —  Passion  leads  the 
young  astray  —  The  military  chieftain  enthralled  by  it — Passion's 
dreamland  —  A  young  lady's  love  her  greatest  treasure  —  Poetical 
extract  —  A  reason  for  caution  in  courtship — Strangers  —  How  to 
regard  them  —  Villains  maybe  detected  —  Extract  from  Coleridge  — 
From  Eliza  Cook  —  Mental  and  moral  purity  a  woman's  armor  —  A 
chaste  woman  described  —  The  characteristics  requisite  in  a  suitor  — 
Self-denial  —  Energy  —  Cultivation  —  Industry  —  Economy  —  Benev- 
olence —  Must  not  be  a  proud  man  — Nor  a  clown  —  Nor  a  fop  —  Nor 
deformed  —  Should  be  religious — On  consulting  parents — Female 
monsters  —  Myra's  elopement  —  Her  subsequent  misery — Caution  in 
the  intimacies  of  courtship — No  haste  to  wed —  Premature  marriage 
inadvisable  —  Concluding  remarks, 231 


THE 


FOUNG  LAM'S  COUNSELLOR, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  MISTAKE   OF  A  LIFETIME. 

ILL  the  light-hearted  maiden, 
whose  laughing  eyes  glance  at 
these  lines,  permit  her  attention 
to  rest  a  moment  or  two  upon  the 
'  sketch  I  am  about  to  pencil  ?  albeit, 
it  may  be  of  a  more  sad  and  som- 
bre hue  than  the  bright  images  usually 
<^  floating  before  her  imagination.  Be- 
hold, then,  a  once  puissant  lady  strug- 
gling with  the  agonies  of  life's  last  hours  ' 
She  is  rich  in  gold  and  diamonds,  in 
palaces  and  lands.  The  blast  of  her  war- trumpets 
can  summon  squadrons  of  armed  men  to  the  field. 
Her  word  of  command  can  cover  the  seas  with  the 


14        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

white  sails  of  one  of  the  proudest  navies  of  the 
globe.  Her  red-cross  banner  floats  in  pride  from 
many  a  "  castled  crag,"  and  over 

M  A  land  of  beauty 
Fondled  by  the  circling  sea." 

Yet  is  the  face  of  this  queenly  sufferer  deadly 
pale ;  her  eyes  are  wandering  and  restless ;  and  her 
expressive  features  indicate  extreme  mental  distress. 
Legions  of  sad  remembrances  are  marching  through 
her  mind,  terrible  as  a  phantom  army  to  her  fears 
A  mitred  prelate  stands  beside  her  royal  couch, 
vainly  endeavoring,  by  his  devotions,  to  soothe  her 
ruffled  spirit,  and  fit  it  for  its  passage  to  the  veiled 
world  beyond.  Vain  attempt !  Every  look  of  Eng- 
land's royal  mistress,  the  great  Elizabeth,  that  once 
haughty  daughter  of  the  Tudors,  seems  to  say  : 
44  Gladly  would  I  surrender  pomp,  power,  and  empire, 
for  the  sweet  innocency  of  childhood ;  for 

*  A  conscience  free  from  sin ! '  " 

And  thus,  with  her  spirit  tossed  upon  a  sea  of 
doubt,  restless  and  shuddering,  she  surrenders  hei 


THE    MISTAKE   OF   A   LIFETIME.  15 

earthly  throne,  and  stands  undistinguished  amidst  a 
crowd  of  spirits,  a  trembling  subject  at  the  bar  of  the 
King  of  kings ! 

This  is  a  spectacle  of  sadness.  Such  sorrow,  in 
such  a  mind,  at  such  an  hour,  was  very  painful  to 
endure.  Nevertheless,  it  was  only  the  necessary 
sequence  of  a  great  and  fatal  mistake  which  had 
ruled  the  life  of  the  queen.  What  was  that  mis- 
take ?  She  had  relied  upon  things  external  to  her- 
self'for  enjoyment  and  content !  She  had  looked  to 
her  crown,  her  kingdom,  her  friends,  as  springs  from 
which  streams  of  pleasure  were  to  flow  into  her  soul. 
She  had  dreamed  of  attaining  happiness  by  levying 
contributions  upon  the  vast  array  of  outward  and 
visible  objects  which  the  Providence  of  God  had 
placed  within  her  reach.  Vain  expectation !  Illusive 
dream  !  It  made  her  life  turbulent  and  uneasy,  and 
her  death  painful  and  unsatisfactory.  She  had  obvi- 
ously mistaken  the  false  for  the  true,  —  the  evil  for 
the  good.  Failing  to  discern  the  true  "fountain  of 
living  water"  she  lived  and  died  in  the  vain  attempt 
to  quench  the  mighty  thirst  of  her  undying  spirit 


16       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

at  "cisterns,"  which,  though  of  imposing  magnifi- 
cence and  peerless  splendor,  nevertheless  "  hold  no 
water  /" 

I  am  seriously  inclined  to  fear  that  the  young 
lady  to  whom  I  now  write  is  entering  the  great 
temple  of  life  under  the  guidance  of  this  same  fatal 
mistake.  Is  it  not  so,  my  reader  ?  Are  you  not  look 
ing  out  upon  the  thousand  gay  things  of  life  with  the 
expectation  of  deriving  your  choicest  pleasure  from 
their  possession  ?  Is  not  life  vocal  to  your  ears  with 
alluring  sounds  of  invitation  to  partake  of  its  delights 
and  be  happy?  And  do  you  not  listen  to  those 
voices  with  pleasing  rapture,  and  fancy  how  com- 
pletely blessed  you  should  be,  if  wealth  to  purchase 
admission  to  the  halls  of  gayety  and  fashion  were 
yours?  If  you  were  the  "belle"  of  the  ball-room, 
the  fascination  of  the  soiree,  the  "admired  of  all 
admirers"  at  Newport  or  Saratoga,  the  betrothed  of 
some  noble-minded  lover,  or  the  wife  of  some  doting 
husband,  then,  you  imagine,  your  heart  would  throb 
with  genuine  and  substantial  bliss.  The  desire 
which,  by  its  restlessness,  now  keeps  you  from  true 


THE    MISTAKE    OF   A   LIFETIME.  17 

mental  repose,  would  then,  you  fancy,  be  satisfied : 
that  sense  of  soul-emptiness  of  which  you  are  so 
painfully  conscious  woukl  be  removed,  and  you  be 
the  delighted  possessor  of  genuine  bliss  on  earth. 
These  things  being  so,  are  you  not  self-convicted 
of  the  same  error  whose  disastrous  consequences  you 
just  now  beheld  in  my  picture  of  the  royal  Eliza- 
beth? That  fatal  mistake,  of  looking  wholly  to 
things  external  to  herself  for  happiness,  which  embit- 
tered her  life  and  robbed  her  death-bed  of  all  true 
comfort,  is  already  beguiling  you.  That  mistake 
must  be  corrected,  or  you  will  also  live  unblessed, 
and  die  uncomforted. 

Let  us  enter,  at  least  in  fancy,  yon  ancient 
house,  whose  high-peaked  roofs  and  gable  ends 
proclaim  it  a  relic  of  the  "  days  that  are  no  more." 
Within,  it  is  desolate  and  lonely.  A  venerable  lady 
of  the  olden  time  is  housekeeper ;  and  a  girl  of  rude 
manners,  but  robust  frame,  is  her  servant.  Let  us 
ascend  these  rickety  stairs,  and  introduce  ourselves 
to  the  owner  of  this  antiquated  pile.  Here  is  his 
room.    It  is  a  laboratory,  containing,  as  you  may  see, 


IS  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

a  vast  array  of  bottles  filled  with  chemicals,  and 
piles  of  musty  folios.  Bending  over  his  alembic 
with  fixed  attention,  behold  the  philosopher  himself, 
wrapped  in  the  folds  of  a  huge  dressing-gown,  and  a 
high  study-cap  upon  his  head.  Gray  ringlets  steal 
down  upon  his  shoulders.  His  studious  face  is 
covered  with  deep  wrinkles ;  for  sixty  years  he  has 
steadily  experimented  by  day  and  dreamed  at  night, 
in  the  vain  hope  of  wringing  from  nature  a  mighty 
secret.  Profoundly,  and  with  unwearied  patience,  he 
has  interrogated  nature,  and  bent  over  that  alembic 
and  its  mysterious  mixtures,  until  the  manly  vigor 
of  previous  years  has  given  way  to  the  decrepitude 
of  trembling  age.  Still  he  toils  and  will  toil  on, 
until  he  falls,  a  martyr  to  his  theory,  into  the  dreary 
grave.  And  for  what?  you  inquire.  Lady!  he 
is  an  alchemist.  He  seeks  the  philosopher's  stone 
by  which  all  baser  metals  are  to  be  transmuted  into 
gold ;  and  the  elixir  of  life,  by  which  all  diseases  are 
to  be  cured,  and  our  race  endowed  with  eternal 
youth  ! 

Philosopher's    stone,   indeed!      Elixir  of  life! 


THE   MISTAKE    OF   A    LIFETIME.  ]9 

What  nonsense !  That  old  alchemist,  with  all  his 
philosophical  learning,  must  be  sadly  lacking  in  'com- 
mon sense ! "  you  vehemently  exclaim,  your  pursed 
brow  and  flashing  eyes  expressing  also  the  earnest- 
ness of  your  indignation  at  his  folly. 

But  why  should  you,  young  madam,  be  so  incensed 
against  that  harmless  old  alchemist,  while  you  are 
guilty  of  a  folly  equally  obvious,  but  infinitely  more 
serious  in  its  consequences  ?  Why  is  that  theorist 
a  fool  ?  Simply  because  he  seeks  an  obvious  impossi- 
bility :  he  pursues  a  dream,  —  he  grasps  a  shadow ! 
You  do  the  same ;  for  have  I  not  convicted  you,  on 
the  testimony  of  your  own  consciousness,  of  seeking 
to  extract  true  happiness  from  the  external  world 
alone  ?  With  equal  discretion  might  you  search 
after  the  elixir  of  life,  or  the  philosopher's  stone.  For 
how  can  perishing  matter  satisfy  imperishable  mind  ? 
Can  a  mind  like  yours,  endowed  with  cravings  after 
the  Divine,  the  infinite,  and  the  immortal,  be  satisfied 
with  the  finite,  the  created,  the  ever-changing  visible 
world?  Never!  It  is  impossible,  in  the  nature  of 
things.     And  a  mind  unsatisfied  is  a  mind  unhappy. 


20        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Listen  to  the  sad  song  of  a  poet,  who  dipped  his  pen 
in  an  inkhorn  filled  with  tears  of  bitter  disappoint- 
ment, and,  writing  from  his  own  history,  said : 

"  As  charm  on  charm  unwinds 
Which  robed  our  idols,  and  we  see  too  sure 
Nor  worth  nor  beauty  dwells  from  out  the  mind's 
Ideal  shape  of  such :  yet  still  it  binds 
The  fatal  spell,  and  still  it  draws  us  on, 
Reaping  the  whirlwind  from  the  oft-sown  winds  ; 
The  stubborn  heart,  its  alchemy  begun, 
Seems  ever  near  the  prize  —  wealthiest  when  most  undone.' 

There  never  was  a  mind,  since  the  world  began, 
which  would  not  have  sadly  responded  to  the  truth 
of  these  lines,  after  a  thorough  trial  of  the  power  of 
the  external  world  to  bless  the  heart.  And  to  uni- 
versal experience  is  superadded  the  emphatic  declar* 
ation  of  Jehovah,  who  has  written,  with  his  owl 
fingers,  on  the  arch  which  spans  the  great  entrance 
to  real  life,  this  significant  inquiry,  "  Wherefore  do 
you  spend  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread  ?  and 
your  labor  for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ?  " 

Pause,  young  lady,  in  presence  of  this  Divine  ques- 
tion, and  this  universal   experience!     Permit  your 


THE    MISTAKE    OF   A   LIFETIME.  21 

mind  to  reflect  gravely  on  the  imminent  risk,  not  to 
say  daring  recklessness,  of  venturing  into  a  sea  where 
every  previous  voyager  has  wrecked  his  bark,  and 
where  so  many  have  perished.  Let  the  combined 
voices  of  God  and  man  settle  the  question  for  you, 
without  making  the  dangerous  trial  yourself.  Keceive 
it  as  a  mental  conviction,  that,  although  external 
objects  may  please  for  a  moment,  as  toys  amuse 
children,  —  although,  in  their  appropriate  uses,  they 
may  swell  the  fountain  of  the  mind's  joy,  —  yet  they 
are  necessarily  and  immutably  unfitted  to  be  its 
portion. 

Should  you,  my  dear  reader,  concur  with  me  in 
this  opinion,  you  will  have  taken  the  first  step 
toward  escaping  from  the  fatal  mistake  which  spoiled 
the  life  of  the  royal  Elizabeth. 

"From  whence,  then,  am  I  to  derive  true  hap- 
piness ?  If  it  is  so  fatal  to  look  for  it  to  things 
without  myself,  whither  shall  I  look?"  you  very 
.  properly  and  eagerly  inquire. 

I  will  permit  a  human  and  a  Divine  teacher  to 
solve  your  problem.    The  former  is  a  poet-    He  says : 


22  THE   YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

"  There  are,  in  this  loud  stormy  tide 
Of  human  care  and  crime, 
With  wnom  the  melodies  abide 
Of  the  everlasting  chime  ; 
Who  carry  music  in  their  hearts. 
Through  dusky  lane  and  wrangling  mart 
Plying  their  daily  task  with  busier  feet, 
Because  their  secret  souls  a  holy  strain  repeat." 

The  latter,  speaking  under  heavenly  inspiration, 
writes  that  "a  good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from 
himself"  Both  passages  teach  that  the  sources  of 
genuine  pleasure  are  to  be  sought  within  the  mind 
itself:  that  the  rich  repose  enjoyed  by  a  happy  mind 
originates  from  something  dwelling  within  itself: 
that  happiness  does  not  flow  in  from  the  outer  world, 
but  springs  up,  unseen  by  others,  within  the  mysteri- 
ous sanctuary  of  the  soul :  and  that  the  power  of  visi- 
ble things  to  swell  the  tide  of  harmony  in  the  mind 
depends  upon  the  mind  itsel£  The  everlasting 
chime  of  melody,  which  may  charm  the  ear  of  her 
who  listens  aright  to  the  voices  of  the  visible  world, 
originates  in  the  soul  of  the  listener.  Whoso  would 
draw  a  "  concord  of  sweet  sounds  "  from  the  world 
without,  must  carry  music  in  her  heart;  just  as  the 


THE   MISTAKE   OF   A   LIFETIME.  23 

maiden,  who  sits  before  the  richly-toned  instrument, 
must  first  have  the  musical  idea  in  herself,  before  she 
can  call  forth  floods  of  melody  from  its  obedient 
keys. 

As  Schiller  justly  inquires, 

"  Doth  the  harmony 
In  the  sweet  lute-strings  belong 
To  the  purchaser,  who,  dull  of  ear,  doth  keep 
The  instrument  ?     True  she  hath  bought  the  right 
To  strike  it  into  fragments  —  yet  no  art 
To  wake  its  silvery  tones,  and  melt  with  bliss 
Of  thrilling  song  !     Truth  for  the  wise  exists, 
And  beauty  for  the  feeling  heart." 

The  flower  blooms  brightly,  and  exhales  odorifer- 
ous perfume  to  myriads  of  insects  ;  but  the  industri- 
ous bee,  taught  by  its  curious  instinct,  alone  extracts 
and  stores  away  its  delicious  sweets.  So,  though 
the  earth  contains  ten  thousand  flowers,  whose  bloom 
may  delight  the  soul,  and  whose  odor  may  ravish 
the  heart,  yet  those  alone  whose  minds  are  fitly  dis- 
posed can  enjoy  the  luxury.  Outward  things  are 
to  the  mind  just  what  the  mind  is  to  itself.  If  the 
mind  be  its  own  heaven,  then  is  earth  its  Eden  ;  but 


24        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

if  it  be  its  own  hell,  then  the  things  and  objects  ol 
life  are  instruments  of  vexation  and  of  torture. 

Within  the  mind  itself,  therefore,  the  elixir  of  _ife 
must  be  produced.  The  human  bosom  is  the  little 
chamber  in  which,  as  in  a  laboratory,  bliss  or  woe 
is  created.  There  we  must  study  the  occult  art  of 
extracting  honey  from  the  world's  flowers,  music 
from  its  motions,  and  enjoyment  from  its  relations. 
There  we  must  obtain  strength  to  subdue  it  to  our 
service.  There  we  must  acquire  the  alchemy  of 
transmuting  its  poisons  into  nutritious  sweets.  There 
must  we  look,  and  there  find,  if  we  find  it  at  all, 
the  fountain  of  a  joyous  life  —  of  all  true  pleasure. 
"  The  kingdom  of  God  zs  within  you,"  said  the  Lord 
Jesus ;  and  so  of  a  happy  life, — its  springs  are  within 
you. 

A  lordly  poet  once  stood  amidst  a  fearful  storm, 
at  night,  on  the  Alps.  Nature,  in  one  of  her  most 
savage  aspects,  in  one  of  her  most  appalling  mo- 
ments, stood  before  him.  The  scene  was  sufficiently 
dreadful  to  send  the  blood  back  to  the  stoutest  heart, 
and  to  hush  even  a  courageous  mind  to  trembling 


THE   MISTAKE   OF   A   LIFETIME.  25 

reverence.     But  there  stood  the  poet,  in  a  rapture  of 
delight,  which  he  expressed  in  these  beautiful  lines : 

"O  night 

And  storm  and  darkness,  ye  are  wondrous  strong,  — 

Yet  lovely  in  your  strength,  as  is  the  light 

Of  a  dark  eye  in  woman !  —  far  along, 

From  peak  to  peak,  the  rattling  crags  among, 

Leaps  the  live  thunder !  —  not  from  one  lone  cloud, 

But  every  mountain  now  hath  found  a  tongue, 

And  Jura  answers,  through  her  misty  shroud, 

Back  to  the  joyous  Alps,  who  call  to  her  aloud! 
****** 

How  the  lit  lake  shines  a  phosphoric  sea, 

And  the  big  rain  comes  dancing  to  the  earth! 

And  now  again  'tis  black,  and  now  the  glee 

Of  the  loud  hills  shakes  with  its  mountain  mirth, 

As  if  they  did  rejoice  o'er  a  young  earthquake's  birth." 

Whence  the  enthusiastic  pleasure,  worthy  of  the 
jpirits  of  the  storm,  which  inspired  these  verses  ? 
Why  should  this  poet  revel,  as  in  a  fairy-land  of 
beauty,  over  a  scene  which  caused  his  companions 
to  tremble  ?  Why  should  the  same  occurrence  pro- 
duce precisely  opposite  effects  on  the  different  spec- 
tators? Whence  the  difference?  Plainly  in  the 
minds  of  the  spectators  only.  The  poet,  nurtured 
among  the  most  rugged  scenes  of  nature,  and  reck- 


26        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

less  of  all  danger,  had  a  soul  in  harmony  with  the 
storm,  and  could  enjoy  its  terrors ;  while  others 
unable  to  perceive  the  sublime  and  beautiful,  through 
fear  of  the  terrible  which  surrounded  it,  beheld  and 
trembled.  A  striking  illustration  this,  you  now  per- 
ceive, of  the  truth,  that  things  without  the  mind  bless 
or  curse  it  only  as  that  mind  is  predisposed.  If 
fearful,  and  alive  only  to  the  terrible,  it  will  tremble; 
if  bold,  and  sensitive  to  what  is  sublime  and  beauti- 
ful, it  will  be  delighted. 

The  mind  has  a  similar  power  to  determine  the 
influence  which  its  condition  in  social  life  shall  exert 
upon  it.  The  most  abject  poverty  cannot  compel  it 
to  be  unhappy ;  the  most  favorable  state  in  life  can- 
not insure  its  pleasure.  Upon  itself  alone  depends 
the  power  of  circumstance  to  embitter  or  to  charm. 
Let  it  be  at  peace  with  itself,  loving  the  pure  and 
lovely,  living  on  rational  and  cheerful  hopes,  and,  as 
the  poet  said  of  a  mind  animated  by  hope, 

"  Hope,  —  the  sweet  bird,  —  while  that  the  air  can  fill, 
Let  earth  be  ice  —  the  soul  has  summer  still." 

Are  you  in  doubt  concerning  the  possibility  of 


THE  MISTAKE   OF  A  LIFETIME.  27 

maintaining  a  summer  of  warmth  and  beauty  in  the 
soul,  while  the  desolation  of  a  Greenland  winter 
reigns  around?  Let  me  remove  your  scepticism  by 
portraying  an  illustrative  fact.  Enter  with  me  the 
chamber  of  a  sick  and  suffering  maiden.  Observe, 
as  you  cross  the  threshold,  its  utter  barrenness  of  all 
that  ministers  to  taste  or  comfort.  How  bare  its 
cracked  and  smoky  walls !  No  carpet  covers  the 
uneven  floor, — no  couches  or  easy-chairs  invite  to 
repose.  A  chair  or  two,  a  rude  bed,  whose  well- 
patched  covering  eloquently  proclaims  the  dominion 
of  poverty,  compose  its  entire  furniture.  But  see! 
How  pale  is  the  face  of  that  young  sufferer !  Listen 
to  her  suppressed  groans — to  her  piercing  shriek ! 
Her  convulsive  starts,  her  distorted  features,  alarm 
you.  "  Poor  creature !  How  she  suffers  !"  is  your 
involuntary  exclamation.  But  she  grows  more  calm, 
for  the  paroxysm  is  over.  Now,  mark  the  lovely 
serenity  which  steals  over  and  settles  upon  her 
countenance  !  With  what  a  radiant  smile  of  welcome 
she  greets  you !  How  heavenly  is  the  expression  of 
her  now  lustrous  eyes !     How  rich  in  sublime*  senti- 


28        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

merit  are  the  words  which  flow  from  her  thin  lips ! 
What  ardent  love,  what  holy  submission,  what  lofty 
spiritual  ecstasy,  she  professes !  As  you  listen  you 
are  astonished,  and  in  an  inward  whisper  exclaim, 
1  What  a  happy  creature  !  " 

Yes,  she  is  happy;  for  this  is  no  ideal  picture,  but 
a  faithful  likeness  of  an  actual  sufferer.  For  a 
series  of  years,  this  dear  girl  was  tormented  by  vio- 
lent convulsions,  which,  occurring  every  few  hours, 
dislocated  her  joints,  and  caused  an  unimaginable 
amount  of  physical  agony.  Yet,  through  it  all,  her 
unrepining  spirit  triumphed  in  God.  With  heroic 
constancy  she  endured  her  unexampled  sufferings ; 
and  maintained  an  intercourse  with  God  so  elevated 
and  sublime,  that  her  joys  were  more  unspeakable 
than  her  sufferings.  If  her  physical  life  was  liter- 
ally full  of  anguish,  her  spiritual  life  was  full  of 
glory !  Her  "  earth  was  ice,"  but  her  "  soul  had 
summer  still." 

In  contrast  with  this  painting  of  strong  light  and 
deep  shadow,  permit  me  to  place  another,  as  sketched 

M 

by  the  brilliant  pen  of  a  poet.     It  is  that  of  minds 


THE   MISTAKE    OF   A   LIFETIME.  29 


s<  irrounded  by  gayety  and  music,  yet  miserable   in 
the  last  degree : 


"  But  midst  the  throng,  in  merry  masquerade, 
Lurk  there  no  hearts  that  throb  with  secret  pain, 
E'en  through  the  closest  cerement  half  betrayed  ? 

****** 
To  such  the  gladness  of  the  gamesome  crowd 
Is  source  of  wayward  thought  and  stern  disdain; 
How  do  they  loathe  the  laughter  idly  loud, 
And  long  to  change  the  robe  of  revel  for  the  shroud !  M 

Here  you  behold  persons  not  only  rejecting  what 
is  pleasurable  and  joyous  in  a  scene  of  revelry,  but 
actually  busy  at  extracting  torture  from  them.  They 
stand  in  a  circle  whose  splendid  gayety  is  adapted  to 
bewitch  the  senses,  while  jocund  laughter  and  mirth- 
inspiring  music  ring  in  their  ears,  with  their  hearts 
throbbing  with  keenest  anguish,  loathing  the  spec- 
tacle, and  blindly  longing  for  the  solitude  of  the 
grave. 

Pray,  tell  me,  lady,  why  the  maiden  was  happy 
under  circumstances  so  adverse  and  painful,  while 
these  inmates  of  the  hall  of  pleasure  were  the  victims 
of  exquisite  misery  ?     The  former,  though  in  physi- 


30  THE  YOUNG    LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

cal  torture  and  poverty,  enjoyed  a  mental  heaven 
the  latter,  though  in  an  external  Eden,  suffered  a 
mental  hell.  Why  this  difference?  Plainly  because, 
as  we  have  before  affirmed,  the  mind  is  its  own 
heaven  or  its  own  hell ;  and  because,  if  pleasure 
reigns  not  within  the  breast,  it  cannot  come  from 
without :  while,  if  it  is  queen  within,  outward  things 
may  disturb,  but  cannot  destroy  its  reign.  How 
consummate,  therefore,  is  the  folly  of  looking  out  of 
the  mind  for  your  enjoyment !  How  wise  and  pru- 
dent to  look  within  yourself  for  that  happiness  which 
is  at  once  your  aspiration  and  your  privilege ! 

The  truth  unfolded  and  amplified  in  this  chapter 
may  seem  so  trivial  to  my  reader,  that  she  may  be 
disposed  to  toss  her  little  head,  and  throw  down  my 
book  in  proud  disdain.  She  can  hardly  persuade 
herself  that  the  difference  between  looking  within  or 
without  herself  for  happiness  is  so  great  tha>  to  do 
the  latter  would  be  a  fatal  mistake.  But  let  me 
assure  her  that 

"  Things  are  not  what  they  seem  f 

That  little  seeming  differences  often  involve  almost 


THE    MISTAKE    OF   A   LIFETIME.  31 

infinite  consequences ;  that  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  look  well  at  those  truths  which  the  heart  despises 
remembering  that 

"  The  poor  herb,  when  all  that  pomp  could  bring 
Were  vain  to  charm,  admits  to  Oberon's  ring ; " 

and  that  a  little  scorn  at  little  things  may  blast  your 
brightest  hopes,  and  tumble  your  most  magnificent 
expectations  to  the  dust.  It  was  thus  that  an  ancient 
prince  of  Sardinia  lost  his  own  liberty  and  his 
friend's  life.  He  had  fallen,  by  the  chance  of  war, 
into  the  prison  of  Bologna.  Asinelli,  his  friend, 
contrived  a  plan  for  his  escape.  He  had  him  en- 
closed in  an  empty  tun  which  had  contained  wine. 
Trusty  friends  were  waiting,  with  swift  horses,  out- 
side the  city.  The  tun  was  being  borne  along  the 
passages  of  the  prison.  It  reached  the  gates  unsus- 
pected, when  a  soldier  observed  a  lock  of  hair  pro- 
truding from  the  barrel;  it  was  opened,  and  the 
unhappy  prince  remanded  to  his  dungeon.  Asinelli 
was  banished,  and  another  friend  was  put  to  death. 
Thus  the  trifling  neglect  to  conceal  a  lock  of  hair 
cost  years  of  sorrow  to  many  hearts.     Perhaps  the 


32        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

men  who  closed  the  barrel  saw  that  lock  of  hair,  as 
you  see  this  truth ;  and  perhaps  they  thought,  in 
their  haste,  it  was  hardly  worth  while  to  h  in  del 
themselves  by  stopping  to  enclose  it.  If  so,  how 
fatal  their  haste  !  It  undid  their  labors,  and  ruined 
their  plan.  Even  so,  my  dear  young  friend,  a  hasty 
contempt  for  the  counsel  which  teaches  you  tha' 
"  earth's  real  wealth  is  in  the  heart,"  and  assures 
you  that  to  rely  on  outward  things  for  happiness  is 
a  fatal  mistake,  may  be  ruinous  to  all  that  is  really 
precious  in  your  life  and  destiny.  Receive  it,  there- 
fore, with  reflection;  follow  it  with  resolution;  adhere 
to  it  with  determination.  Then  shall  you  escape 
the  experience  of  an  earthly  mind,  who  wrote,  in 
the  bitterness  of  his  disappointment,  that 

11  Dark  to  manhood  grows  the  heaven  that  smiled 
On  the  clear  vision  nature  gare  the  child." 


CHAPTEK  II. 

THE  FOUNTAIN   OF   LIFE   UNSEALED. 

PON  the  loftiest  and  most  rug- 
ged peaks  of  the  Alps,  a  species 
of   fir-tree   is   said    to    flourish 
-^  among  rocks  whose  almost  utter 
destitution  of  soil  refuses  support 
to  plant  or  flower.     Yet  there  this 
pine-tree  grows,  defying  the  barren 
soil  and  the  "  howling  tempests," 

11  Till  its  height  and  frame 
Are  worthy  of  the  mountains  from  whose  blocks 
Of  bleak  gray  granite  into  life  it  came, 
And  grew  a  giant  tree." 

Whence  is  the  life  of  this  gigantic  tree  supported  ? 
The  scanty  soil,  in  which  its  straggling  roots  scarcely 
find  a  covering,  is  obviously  insufficient.  Is  it,  then, 
self-supported  ?  Does  its  nutriment  arise  from  itself 
alone?     Nay,  for  we  can  hardly   conceive  how  a 


34        THE  YOUNG  LADY  S  COUNSELLOR. 

stripling  fir  could  wax  into  a  "  giant  tree,"  without 
obtaining  the  materials  of  its  growth  from  some 
source  besides  itself.  Hence  we  infer,  that,  while  its 
roots  exhaust  the  little  nutriment  contained  in  the  soil, 
its  branches  embrace  and  absorb  the  atmosphere ;  and, 
by  an  invisible  process  of  almost  infinite  skill,  the 
tree  elaborates  the  elements  of  life  from  its  particles. 
Thus,  while  its  growth  and  greatness  may  be  said  to 
be  from  within  itself,  yet  are  they  not  wholly  of  itself. 

"  The  mind  may  do  the  same."  It  may  enjoy  its 
healthiest  and  highest  life  amidst  the  most  rugged 
features  of  external  existence ;  for,  like  the  Alpine 
fir,  it  may  find  invisible  elements  of  support,  which, 
though  not  originating  in  itself,  nevertheless  spring 
up  within  it  as  from  a  fountain  of  living  rapture.  If 
left  wholly  dependent  upon  itself,  it  could  not  find 
real  enjoyment  in  an  Edon  of  beauty ;  for,  in  fallen 
human  nature,  happiness  is  not  an  inborn  spring;  it 
is  a  living  fountain,  brought  into  the  heart  by  a  power 
which,  though  dwelling  in  the  temple  of  the  soul,  is 
not  of  it,  but  infinitely  above  it. 

Nor  is  it  possible  to  attain  real  enjoyment  without 


THE   FOUNTAIN   OF   LIFE   UNSEALED.  35 

/ 

the  presence  of  this  power.  In  the  preceding  chapter 
I  have  shown  that  no  height  of  intellectual  greatness, 
no  elevation  of  social  condition,  no  amount  of  terres- 
trial wealth,  no  softness  of  climate,  no  beauty  of 
landscape,  —  nay,  nor  all  human  things  combined,  — 
can,  of  themselves,  enable  the  unassisted  heart  to  dis- 
course sweet  music,  or  attain  to  blissful  tranquillity. 
Yet  I  cannot  forbear  to  fortify  this  vital  point  by 
another  striking  example.  Hear  the  confessions  of  a 
wealthy  peer  of  England,  —  a  scholar,  a  poet,  a 
traveller,  a  man  in  whom  every  visible  condition  of 
human  happiness  met,  —  and  learn  the  total  insuffi- 
ciency of  all  to  cheer  the  spirit ;  yea,  learn  how  des- 
olate a  thing  is  the  human  heart,  when  it  proudly 
leans  upon  itself  alone,  in  the  following  melancholy 
language,  which  this  "  poor  rich  man  "  addressed  to 
his  sister : 

"I  was  disposed  to  be  pleased.  I  am  a  lover  of 
nature  and  an  admirer  of  beauty.  I  can  bear  fatigue 
and  welcome  privation,  and  have  seen  some  of  the 
noblest  views  in  the  world.  But  in  all  this,  the 
recollection  of  bitterness,   and  more   especially   of    . 


3G        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

recent  and  home  desolation,  which  must  accompany 
me  through  life,  has  preyed  upon  me  here ;  and 
neither  the  music  of  the  shepherds,  the  crashing  of 
the  avalanche,  nor  the  torrent,  the  mountain,  the 
glacier,  the  forest,  nor  the  cloud,  have  for  one 
moment  lightened  the  weight  upon  my  heart,  nor 
enabled  me  to  lose  my  own  wretched  identity  in  the 
majesty  and  the  power  and  glory  around,  above  and 
beneath  me." 

If  this  sad  lament  of  a  weary  heart  were  a  solitary 
fact  in  human  history,  it  would  not  be  admissible  to 
infer  a  general  principle  from  it.  But  it  is  not. 
Every  soul  that  has  trusted  to  itself  alone,  since  the 
world  began,  has  uttered  a  corresponding  wail  of 
agony ;  and  it  is  therefore  a  fair  example  of  what  the 
human  mind  is,  when  left  to  its  own  resources,  —  a 
miserable,  empty,  wretched  thing.  Miss  Landon's 
harp  gave  forth  a  note  of  truth  when  it  sang 

"  The  heart  is  made  too  sensitive 

Life's  daily  pain  to  bear  ; 

It  beats  in  music,  but  it  beats 

Beneath  a  deep  despair." 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF    LIFE    UNSEALED.  37 

What,  then,  is  the  sacred  source  of  true  and  lasting 
bliss  ?  What  is  that  which  must  be  brought  into  the 
mind  to  give  genuine  enjoyment  ?  If  my  young 
friend  will  humbly  take  her  seat  where  the  beautiful 
Mary  sat,  she  shall  be  taught  the  mighty  secret,  in 
words  of  authority,  from  the  lips  of  Jesus.  He  says  : 
^  Whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give 
him  shall  never  thirst ;  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give 
him  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water,  springing  up 
into  eternal  life" 

"If  a  man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words;  and  my 
Father  will  love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him  and 
make  our  abode  with  him" 

"  I  will  see  you  again,  and  your  heart  shall  rejoice  ; 
and  your  joy  no  man  taketh  from  you" 

"My  peace  give  I  unto  you." 

Here,  then,  my  beloved  reader,  the  great  truth 
stands  out  before  you.  God  received  into  the  soul, 
by  simple  faith,  is  the  grand  and  only  source  of  true 
happiness.  He  is  that  fountain  of  living  water, 
whose  streams  refresh  the  weary  spirit,  and  satisfy  its 
immortal  thirst.     Where  he  dwells  there  abide  peace, 


38        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

love,  joy  and  hope,  in  all  their  beauty :  the  storma 
of  passion  arise  not  in  His  presence.  The  visible 
world,  gilded  by  the  rays  of  His  glory,  can  be  really 
and  innocently  enjoyed,  because  he  brings  the  inter- 
nal faculties  into  harmony  with  external  things. 
The  relations  of  social  life  can  be  enjoyed ;  their 
duties  performed  with  efficiency  and  pleasure.  The 
future  is  invested  with  grandeur  and  glory.  All  the 
interests  of  life  are  felt  to  be  safe,  for  they  are  in  the 
keeping  of  God,  —  of  God  not  afar  off  in  clouds  and 
darkness,  but  of  God  abiding  in  perpetual  spiritual 
manifestation  within  the  breast.  The  beautiful 
ideal  of  the  Grecian  mythology,  concerning  the  god- 
dess whose  soft  and  delicate  tread  caused  the  green 
herb  and  lovely  flower  to  spring  up  on  the  island  of 
Cyprus,  becomes  a  literal  fact  in  the  experience  of  a 
christian  lady ;  for,  in  whatever  soul  God  enters  a 
welcomed  guest,  every  lovely  plant  springs  up,  and 
every  beauteous  flower  grows  with  divine  fertility. 
He  is  "a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  eternal 
life:' 

Can  you  conceive  of  any  calamity  more  appalling 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF    LIFE    UNSEALED.  39 

than  a  widely-spread  famine  ?  How  terrible  the 
idea,  even  to  the  fancy,  of  a  whole  nation  cut  off 
f-om  its  resources  by  universal  sterility  !  But  how 
much  more  so  must  be  the  fact  itself!  With  what 
fearful  eagerness  the  people  watch  for  signs  of  rain ! 
Yet  weeks,  months  and  years  pass,  and  the  sky  is 
clear  and  cloudless ;  the  sun  glows  fiercely  in  the 
heavens;  the  air  is  hot  and  sultry;  the  earth  is 
parched  and  cracked  ;  every  blade  of  grass,  every 
herb  and  every  tree,  dries  up,  until  all  is  arid  ana 
barren  as  the  desert.  -Nature  languishes,  and  in  her 
feebleness  oppresses  her  children,  until  disease  and 
groaning  fill  the  land,  and  hecatombs  of  dead  cover 
its  surface  with  graves. 

Yet,  in  the  certain  prospect  of  such  an  event,  behold 
the  sublime  serenity  of  the  Egyptian  nation  in  the  age 
of  Joseph.  The  face  of  the  people  is  gay  and  cheer- 
ful. The  voice  of  song  resounds  all  over  the  land, 
from  the  hundred  gates  of  Thebes  to  the  mouths  of 
the  Nile.  Though  the  nation  was  assured  that  for 
seven  years  the  sway  of  this  terrible  evil  would  be 
maintained,  yet  a  most  absolute  fearlessness  of  death 


40        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

kept  every  heart  strong,  and  excluded  all  apprehen- 
sion of  serious  suffering,  alike  from  the  proud  palaces 
of  Pharaoh  and  the  mud  hovel  of  the  peasant. 
Famine  reigned  in  the  land,  yet  peace  dwelt  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people. 

Whence  arose  this  astonishing  national  repose  in 
the  midst  of  so  menacing  an  evil?  Behold  the 
immense  stores  of  food  with  which  the  vast  granaries 
of  the  land  are  groaning !  And,  at  the  head  of  the 
government,  behold  the  inspired  man  whose  prophetic 
wisdom  foretold  the  event,  —  whose  forecast  prepared 
these  almost  boundless  supplies,  and  whose  wisdom 
presides  over  their  distribution !  These  facts  explain 
the  great  enigma  of  so  much  calmness  amid  so 
much  that  was  formidable  !  The  people  knew  their 
inability  to  cope  with  the  sterility  of  nature,  but 
their  reliance  on  the  predictions  and  ability  of  Joseph 
was  so  strong  they  could  not  fear.  Famine  might 
rage, — they  were  helpless  to  resist  it;  but  Joseph  had 
provided  an.  ample  supply  for  their  wants,  and  they 
rejoiced  in  a  happy  consciousness  of  security  from 
starvation  and  death. 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF    LIFE    UNSEALED.  41 

You  have  no  difficulty,  my  young  reader,  in 
understanding  the  action  of  this  confidence  in  the 
minds  of  the  Egyptians,  and  that  without  it  they 
would  have  been  absolutely  wretched.  It  will  there- 
fore be  easy  for  you  to  transfer  the  idea  to  your  own 
necessities  and  resources.  Viewing  yourself  in  your 
relations  to  human  society,  you  cannot  fail  to  per- 
ceive much  of  evil,  of  danger,  and  of  suffering,  before 
you.  You  everywhere  behold  women  whose  early 
career  was  as  gay,  as  secure,  as  promising,  as  your 
own,  the  victims  of  heart  desolation,  of  acute  suffer- 
ing, of  neglect,  of  poverty,  —  to  whom  life  is  as  a 
desert  waste,  where  suffocating  winds  sweep  rudely 
past  them,  and  stifling  sands  threaten  to  bury  them 
in  death.  In  one  direction,  you  see  a  daughter 
thrown  upon  her  own  resources  by  the  premature 
death  of  her  parents  ;  in  another,  a  wife,  but  yester- 
day a  happy  bride,  left  to  indescribable  sorrow  by  the 
neglect  of  an  unfaithful  husband,  or  plunged  into  a 
mournful  widowhood  by  the  visitation  of  death. 
What  multitudes  of  women,  who,  a  little  while  ago, 
rejoiced  as  gayly  as  the  joyous  lark  in  the  thought- 


42        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

lessness  of  a  happy  girlhood,  are  living  in  weakness, 
toil  and  sadness,  weary  of  life,  yet  unwilling  and  unfit 
to  die !  True,  much  of  this  vast  amount  of  female 
misery  might  have  been  avoided ;  yet,  in  the  full 
knowledge  of  its  existence  and  of  your  own  weakness, 
you  cannot  avoid  the  conviction  that  you  are  liable 
to  similar  experiences.  With  the  Egyptians  you  can 
see  dark  forms  of  evil  thronging  your  path.  You 
dare  not  face  them  alone !  They  are  calculated  to 
affright  your  spirit.  What,  then,  is  necessary  to  give 
you  an  intelligent  and  stable  peace  of  mind  ?  What 
to  save  you  from  these  sufferings  and  sorrows  of  your 
sex  ?  Plainly,  you  need  a  confidence  like  that  of  the 
Egyptians.  Your  heart  must  rely  upon  some  power 
able  and  willing  to  preserve  you  from  such  manifest 
evils.  A  friend,  who  will  guide  your  steps,  watch 
over  and  secure  your  interests,  support  you  in  your 
trials,  and  deliver  you  in  trouble,  is  a  necessity  of 
your  nature.  Could  you  be  sure  of  such  a  friend, 
you  could  gaze  upon  the  ills  of  life  with  as  fearless  a 
smile  as  that  with  which  the  people  of  Pharaoh 
looked  upon  the  sterility  of  their  country. 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF   LIFE    UNSEALED.  43 

But  where  is  the  human  friend  whose  qualities  are 
such  as  to  inspire  you  with  this  essential  confidence  ? 
Alas!  he  is  not  to  be  found;  for  every  other  mortal  is 
like  yourself  exposed  to  trouble  and  danger.  If  it 
were  otherwise,  —  if  that  venerable  parent  who  has 
watched  your  infancy  and  youth  with  so  much  solici- 
tude, and  in  whose  love  you  feel  so  secure,  possessed 
the  power  to  protect  you  through  life, — you  know  that 
the  thread  on  which  his  existence  hangs  is  more  frail 
than  a  lute-string.  How,  then,  can  you  calmly  face 
your  destiny  with  such  a  trust  ?  You  cannot  do  it ! 
You  need  power,  wisdom,  love,  sympathy,  duration, 
in  the  Being  on  whom  your  spirit  can  repose  in  per- 
fect serenity.  And  who  is  such  a  friend  but  Jeho- 
vah ?  Whose  friendship  can  calm  your  soul  but  his  ? 
What  but  religious  faith  can  inspire  so  delightful  a 
trust  ?  What  is  there  in  the  human  soul  to  create 
this  sense  of  safety,  amidst  the  unquestionable  dan- 
gers by  which  it  is  surrounded?  Nothing!  positively 
nothing !  Self-reliance  is  presumptuous  arrogance. 
To  trust  in  man  is  to  pluck  the  fruit  that  grows  on 
"  folly's  topmost  twig."     To  be  without  confidence  is 


44        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

to  be  wretched,  whether  your  home  be  the  palace  of  a 
merchant  prince,  or  the  cottage  of  a  toiling  peasant 
To  a  religious  faith,  therefore,  are  you  shut  up.  Tn< 
point  before  you  is  as  plain  as  a  self-evident  truth  * 
you  must  be  wretched  or  religious.  Embrace  the 
faith  of  Christ,  and  forthwith  a  confidence  will  spring 
up  in  your  soul  which  will  disarm  life  of  its  terrors, 
enable  you  to  defy  its  emergencies,  assure  you  that  all 
chance  is  excluded  from  the  government  of  the  world, 
that  your  interests  are  all  safe  in  the  hands  of  the 
infinite  God,  whose  attributes  are  pledged  to  promote 
your  safety.  You  will  then  see  Omnipotence  as  the 
wall  built  around  you  ;  infinite  resources  ready  to  be 
employed  in  your  behalf,  and  boundless  love  dis- 
tributing the  mercies  requisite  to  supply  your  neces- 
sities. 

Blessed  with  this  sublime  trust,  you  will  walk  the 
ways  of  life  as  calmly  as  the  ideal  pilgrim,  in  the 
picture  of  a  German  artist,  whose  beautiful  painting 
contained  a  lovely  child  walking  slowly  along  a  nar- 
row path,  bounded  on  each  side  by  a  terrific  preci- 
pice, the  edges  of  which  were  concealed  from  him  by 


THE    FOUNTAIN   OF   LIFE   UNSEALED.  45 

a  luxuriant  border  of  fruits  and  flowers.  Behind  this 
infant  pilgrim  there  stood  an  angel,  his  white  wings 
spreading  upward  into  the  evening  sky,  his  hands 
placed  lightly  on  the  shoulders  of  the  little  traveller, 
as  if  to  guide  him  safely  along  the  dangerous  path. 
The  child's  eyes  were  closed,  that  the  beautiful  flow- 
ers and  luscious  fruit  might  not  tempt  him  to  pause 
or  step  aside ;  and  he  walked  calmly  forward,  smil- 
ing ineffable  content,  as  if  perfectly  satisfied,  so  long 
as  he  felt  the  gentle  pressure  of  those  angelic  hands. 
With  religious  faith  you  may  walk  through  the  evils 
of  life  equally  fearless,  safe  and  happy. 

Nor  is  the  influence  of  a  religious  faith  on  the 
fears  of  the  heart  its  only  relation  to  your  present 
enjoyment.  It  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  that  compara- 
tive isolation  from  active  life  which  falls  to  the  lot 
of  your  sex.  Home  is  woman's  world,  as  well  as  her 
empire.  Man  lives  more  in  society.  The  busy 
marts  of  trade,  the  bustling  exchange,  the  activity  of 
artisan  life,  are  his  spheres.  They  call  forth  his 
energies,  and  occupy  his  thoughts.  But  woman's 
life  is  spent  in  comparative  solitude.     She  is,  there- 


46  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

fore,  if  possible,  more  dependent  upon  her  inward 
resources  than  her  more  stirring  companion.  And 
how  is  she  to  feel  contented  with  the  loneliness  of 
her  lot,  in  spite  of  that  "  longing  for  sympathy  that 
belongs  to  her  nature  "  ?  She  cannot  be,  unless  she 
enjoys  the  supports  of  religion.  But,  with  thu 
divine  life  within  her,  she  becomes,  to  use  the  Ian 
guage  of  the  Duchess  of  Newcastle,  "a  beautiful 
creature,  tremblingly  alive  to  the  influences  of  this 
beautiful  world,  tremblingly  conscious  that  but  a  thin 
veil  separates  this  actual  daily  life  from  the  world  of 
spirits.  A  being  with  whom  the  sense  of  immortal- 
ity is  an  actual  presence,  lingering  about  her  bed 
and  about  her  path,  and  whose  heart  is  cheered  as 
by  the  breathings  of  the  air  of  paradise.  Such  a 
being  as  this,  finding  herself  unguided  and  alone 
among  those  of  her  sex  whose  talk  is  of  Paris  fash 
ions,  bonnets  and  balls,  —  whose  lives  are  worthy  of 
their  conversation,  —  such  a  being  can  lean  on  no 
earthly  arm  for  support,  nor  look  to  any  earthly 
sympathy  for  comfort.  Over  her  heart  God  must 
breathe  the  holy  calm  of  his  peace." 


THE    FOUNTAIN    OF   LIFE    UNSEALED.  47 

And  sweet  is  the  calm  he  breathes,  —  rich  and 
exuberant  the  joy  he  inspires.  While  "worldly 
women  are  poor,  suffering  ones,  who  wander  in  the 
thorny  paths  of  life,  pining  for  happiness  and  going 
astray  after  its  very  shadow,"  religious  women  find 
an  "  unspeakable  joy "  in  religion,  which  enriches 
every  inferior  and  earthly  pleasure.  To  them  "there 
is  joy  in  feeling  the  first  breath  of  the  morning  fan- 
ning the  cheek ;  joy  in  the  balm  of  April  sunshine 
and  showers,  and  in  the  flowers  of  beautiful  May. 
There  is  joy  in  the  joyous  laugh  and  the  silvery 
voice  of  childhood, —  in  the  romance  of  youth  ere  care 
shades  her  heart ;  there  is  joy  in  the  breast  of  the 
bride  as  she  gives  '  her  hand,  with  her  heart  in  it,' 
to  her  lover;  joy  in  a  mother's  bosom  as  she  presses 
her  first-born  to  her  breast.  Yes,  even  earth  has  its 
joys  ;  but,  alas  !  they  are  as  fleeting  as  sunshine,  as 
perishable  as  flowers ;  but  they  have  also  a  joy 
deeper,  fuller,  richer,  sweeter,  imperishable  as  the 
undying  spirit,  —  it  is  the  joy  of  religious  love." 
How  desirable  is  this  joy  to  you,  my  dear  young 
lady,  whose  life,  in  common  with  that  of  most  of 


48        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

your  sex,  must  necessarily  be  spent  in  comparative 
isolation ! 

In  some  portions  of  the  frigid  zones  the  inhabit- 
ants provide  themselves  with  habitations  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  ground.  During  their  brief  summer, 
they  convey  large  stores  of  food  and  fuel  to  these 
subterranean  abodes.  When  winter  comes,  they 
enter  them  and  live  peacefully  there,  indifferent  te 
the  desolating  storms  and  dreary  snows  which  fall 
and  rage  above  their  heads.  Their  home  is  their 
winter  world,  and  it  contains  all  their  little  wants 
demand.  Hence,  they  live  in  secure  plenty,  smiling 
at  the  howling  storm  which  leaves  their  abode 
untouched  and  safe. 

Very  similar  is  the  influence  of  religion  in  human 
life.  It  makes  its  possessor  independent  of  outward 
circumstances ;  it  enables  her  to  defy  the  changes  of 
life.  What  if  friends  are  false,  health  decays,  for- 
tune fails,  wasting  storms  drive  furiously  around  her 
head?  Is  her  happiness  lost?  Nay!  for  she  has 
not  depended  upon  friends,  health  or  fortune,  for  her 
highest  pleasure.     As  superior  streams  of  comfort 


THE   FOUNTAIN    OF   LIFE   UNSEALED.  49 

she  has  welcomed  and  enjoyed  them,  but  not  as  the 
fountain  of  her  delight.  Their  removal,  therefore, 
leaves  her  in  full  possession  of  her  chief  good.  A 
sterile,  snowy  winter  may  rage  without,  but  she  has 
her  God  within  herself,  and  is  satisfied.  He  is 
her  world.  His  presence  and  favor  constitute  her 
heaven,  though  her  visible  life  is  filled  with  discom- 
foit  and  woe.  Very  strongly,  yet  very  beautifully, 
did  an  ancient  Christian,  according  to  Taulerius, 
once  express  this  divine  bliss,  when  a  doubting  friend 
inquired,  "  What  would  you  do,  if  God  should  cast 
you  into  hell  ?  " 

"  Cast  me  into  hell !  God  will  not  do  that.  But 
if  he  were  to  cast  me  into  hell,  I  have  two  arms,  — 
an  arm  of  faith  and  an  arm  of  love ;  with  these  I 
would  lay  hold  on  God,  and  cling  to  him  so  firmly 
that  I  would  take  him  with  me !  And  surely  no  evil 
could  befall  me  there ;  for,  I  would  rather  be  with 
God  m  hell,  than  to  be  in  'heaven  without  him !  " 

This  is  very  strong  —  perhaps  too  strong  —  lan- 
guage ;  yet  it  nobly  expresses  the  superiority  of  the 
Christian  to  adverse  circumstances,  —  his  independ- 


50        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

ence  of  human  events  and  troubles.  The  old  poet, 
Vaughn,  has  a  stanza  which  is  so  instinct  with  this 
spirit  of  heroic  triumph  over  outward  vicissitudes,  1 
cannot  forbear  quoting  it.  Viewing  the  Christian  in 
an  era  of  persecution  and  martyrdom,  he  puts  these 
burning  words  into  his  lips  : 

"  Bum  me  alive  with  curious  skilful  pain, 
Cut  up  and  search  each  warm  and  breathing  vein ; 
When  all  is  done,  death  brings  a  quick  release, 
And  the  poor  mangled  body  sleeps  in  peace. 
Hale  me  to  prisons,  shut  me  up  in  brass, 
My  still  free  soul  from  thence  to  God  shall  pass , 
Banish  or  bind  me,  I  can  be  nowhere 
A  stranger  or  alone,  —  my  God  is  there. 
I  fear  not  famine.     How  can  he  be  said 
To  starve,  who  feeds  upon  the  living  bread  ? 
And  yet  this  courage  springs  not  from  my  store,  ~ 
Christ  gave  it  me,  who  can  give  much  more." 

How  desirable,  in  a  world  so  changeful  as  this, 
that  a  young  lady,  so  feeble  and  so  exposed,  should 
possess  this  hidden  peace  from  Christ,  which  neither 
creature  nor  circumstance  can  take  from  her ! 

Perhaps,  lady,  you  are  a  lover  of  music.  The 
piano  is  your  favorite  instrument,  from  whose  keys 


THE    FOUNTAIN   OF    LIFE    UNSEALED.  51 

you  draw  many  pleasant  sounds.  Permit  me  to  give 
you  a  lesson  upon  it.  You  know  it  contains  many 
wires,  all  of  which  are  called  into  use  at  times,  and 
are  necessary  to  its  perfection.  Each  of  these  wTires 
has  its  own  peculiar  sound,  which  it  must  render 
precisely,  else  a  discord  jars  on  your  ear,  and  destroys 
the  harmony  of  the  music.  To  create  and  to  pre- 
serve this  harmony,  it  has  to  be  submitted  to  the 
skilful  hand  and  ear  of  the  tuner ;  otherwise,  as  a 
musical  instrument,  it  would  fail  to  afford  you  pleas- 
ure. However  costly  in  its  materials  and  magnifi- 
cent in  its  external  finish,  you  would  only  be  pained 
by  its  presence,  so  long  as  its  tuneless  state  forbade 
you  to  touch  a  key.  But,  once  in  perfect  tune,  you 
enjoy  exquisite  delight,  as  its  delicious  melody  fills 
your  enraptured  ear. 

It  is  thus  with  your  mind.  It  has  various  func- 
tions and  qualities,  intellectual  and  moral,  each  of 
which  is  designed  to  act  in  a  specific  manner ;  and 
which  must  so  act,  to  constitute  you  happy  in  your- 
self, and  an  instrument  of  good  to  society.  But,  like 
the  piano,  the  mind  is  out  of  tune.     Though  in- 


52  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

tensely  pained  by  the  discords  it  utters,  it  neverthe- 
less continually  produces  them.  It  requires  tuning 
therefore,  or  it  must  be  a  self- tormenting  thing  of 
discords  forever — magnificent  in  its  construction,  glo- 
rious in  its  powers,  yet  failing  to  attain  the  sublime 
end  of  its  creation.  To  drop  my  comparison,  the 
mind  is  unable  of  itself  to  develop  those  qualities 
which  are  necessary  to  its  own  enjoyment,  and  to  its 
right  influence  over  others.  And  nothing  less  than 
the  power  of  religion  can  repress  its  evil  tendencies, 
and  develop  its  superior  qualities.  As  the  tuner  of 
instruments  may  justly  say  of  the  piano,  "  without 
me  it  is  nothing,"  so  does  Christ  actually  say  to 
you,  lady,  "without  me  ye  can  do  nothing."  Christ, 
and  Christ  alone,  is  sufficient  to  clothe  you  with  that 
loveliness  of  moral  character  which  will  cause  your 
life  to  pass  happily  to  yourself  and  to  be  beneficial  to 
others.     How  else  can  your  life  be 

"A  sacred  stream, 
In  whose  calm  depths  the  beautiful  and  pure 
Alone  are  mirrored  "  ? 

How  else  can  you  acquire  that  guileless  ingenu- 


THE    FOUNTAIN   OF   LIFE    UNSEALED  £3 

ousness,  that  dignity  combined  with  tenderness,  that 
prudent  reserve  unmixed  with  haughtiness,  that  calm 
patriotism  so  modest  and  yet  so  heroic,  that  courage 
without  fierceness,  that  energy  without  rashness,  that 
purity  without  a  spot,  that  earnest  self-denying 
industry,  that  wise  forecast,  that  prudent  economy, 
that  constellation  of  high  moral  qualities,  whose  mild 
light  sweetly  gilds  the  gloom  of  external  circum- 
stances, and  makes  woman  a  "  spotless  form  of 
beauty,"  —  arms  her  with  power  to  move  the  soul,  to 
win  the  affections,  to  attain  the  ideal  excellence  of 
^chiller's  Queen  Elizabeth  of  Spain,  who  moved 

11  With  inborn  and  unboastful  majesty, 
Alike  from  careless  levity  remote 
And  a  behavior  schooled  by  selfish  rules, 
Alike  removed  from  rashness  and  from  fear. 
With  firm  and  fearless  step  she  ever  walked 
The  narrow  path  of  duty  —  all  unconscious 
That  she  won  worship,  where  she  never  dreamed 
Of  approbation"? 

Qualities  like  these  can  grow  to  harmonious  per- 
fection by  nothing  less  than  God  in  your  soul. 
Their  semblances  may  be  produced  by  simple  self- 


54  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

culture ;  but  they  will  be  only  as  jewels  of  paste 
compared  with  genuine  stones.  His  presence  will 
adorn  you  with  genuine  excellence,  render  you  inde- 
pendent of  life's  changing  joys,  satisfy  you,  and 
enable  you  to  extract  what  of  pure  pleasure  exists  in 
earthly  things.     Thus  may  your  life  pass, 

'{  That  every  hour 
Shall  die  as  dies  a  natural  flower  — 
A  self-reviving  thing  of  power ; 
That  every  thought  and  every  deed 
May  hold  within  itself  the  seed 
Of  future  good  and  future  need." 


CHAPTER  III. 

INFLUENCE. 
ATHER    UP     MY    INFLUENCE,   AND 

bury  it  with  me  ! "  exclaimed  a 
youth,  whose  unforgiven  spirit  was 
sinking  into  the  invisible  world. 
Idle  request !  Had  he  begged  his 
friends  to  bind  the  free  winds,  to 
chain  the  wild  waves,  to  grasp  the  fierce 
•  lightning,  or  make  a  path  for  the  sand- 
blast, his  wish  would  have  been  more 
feasible ;  for  past  influence  is  unchangeable. 
The  sceptical  thought  that  fell  as  a  seed  of 
evil  from  the  lip  and  grew  in  the  heart  of  the 
listener  into  defiant  infidelity,  the  light  word  that 
pierced  the  'spirit  like  a  poisoned  dart,  the  angry 
glance  which  stirred  the  soul  to  anguish  and  made 
tears  flow  at  the  midnight  hour,  are  alike  beyond 


56        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

our  reach.  The  mind  thus  wounded  sighs  on,  and 
after  we  are  dead  the  chords  vibrate  which  our  fin- 
gers touched.  The  measure  of  that  influence,  for 
weal  or  woe,  will  lie  hidden,  a  terrible  secret,  until 
the  day  when  the  spirit,  blindly  driven  to  despair 
and  guilt,  or  blasted  by  sceptical  thought,  shall  stand 
writhing  and  wretched  to  confront  those  by  whom 
the  offence  came,  and  to  teach  that  influence  is  im- 
mutable and  eternal! 

Such  are  the  fearful  sentiments  contained  in  a 
fugitive  poem  which  once  met  my  eye.  They  are 
thoughts  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  consideration  of  a 
young  lady ;  for,  whatever  may  be  her  grade  in 
society,  her  talents  or  opportunities,  it  is  a  necessary 
condition  of  her  existence  that  she  must  exert  this 
potential  thing  we  call  influence.  It  is  not  a  matter 
of  choice.  She  cannot  say  she  will  not  exercise  it, 
for  she  must.  From  every  glance  of  her  eye,  every 
word  of  her  lips,  every  act  of  her  life,  there  goes 
forth,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  an  invisible  power, 
which  produces  an  effect  upon  the  minds  around  her. 
This  power  to  affect  others  is  influence.     It  is  a  gift 


INFLUENCE.  57 

of  Heaven  to  every  human  being.  Whether  it  shall 
be  productive  of  evil  or  good,  is  for  each  possessor  to 
determine.  It  is  like  the  rod  of  Moses,  which  was 
either  the  prolific  instrument  of  plague  and  woe,  or 
the  means  of  driving  evil  and  destruction  from  the 
land,  as  the  inspired  will  of  its  great  owner  deter- 
mined. Thus  with  this  precious  gift.  It  may  scat- 
ter pestilence,  desolation  and  death,  or  it  may  bring 
forth  life  and  beauty ;  it  may  be  a  harp  of  sweetest 
melody,  making  glad  the  heart  of  the  world,  or  it 
may  be  a  discordant  trumpet,  rousing  the  passions 
of  mankind  to  angry  and  tempestuous  strife,  as  its 
possessor  may  decide. 

Will  you  imagine  yourself  in  one  of  the  vast 
cathedrals  of  Europe  ?  Behold  its  spacious  aisles 
and  lofty  galleries,  crowded  with  masses  of  specta- 
tors of  all  ranks  and  of  every  age,  from  the  gray- 
bearded  patriarch  of  eighty  to  the  fawn-like  girl  of 
five  or  six.  Suppose  yourself  placed  before  the  keys 
of  its  magnificent  organ,  and  required  to  execute  a 
piece  of  music,  with  the  information  that  certain 
keys,  bearing  particular  marks,  have  the  power,  if 


58  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

improperly  touched,  of  producing  violent  pains  in  the 
audience,  which  no  medical  science  could  assuage  or 
cure ;  while,  if  they  are  skilfully  touched,  their 
delightful  melody  will  create  the  most  exquisite 
sensations  of  enduring  pleasure.  In  such  a  position, 
would  you  not  exert  your  utmost  powers  to  avoid 
those  movements  which  would  thrill  your  auditory 
with  anguish  ?  Would  you  not  enter,  with  grave 
earnestness,  upon  those  which  would  be  followed 
with  bursts  of  joy  ?  Your  ardent  response  is  in 
your  heart  and  eye  ;  and  you  almost  wish  for  the 
opportunity  of  choosing  between  such  alternatives. 

If  my  previous  remarks  are  true,  you  have  not 
only  such  an  opportunity,  but  one  of  far  higher  and 
nobler  character.  By  a  proper  use  of  this  more  than 
fairy  gift  of  influence,  you  can  call  into  existence 
emotions  of  pure  delight,  capable  of  infinite  self-mul- 
tiplication in  the  multitude  of  human  spirits  which 
will  come  within  your  sphere  during  your  lifetime. 
By  neglecting  the  proper  use  of  your  gift,  you  will 
create  agonies  of  equal  duration  and  intensity.  Can 
you,  therefore,  refuse  a  few  moments  of  grave  thought 


INFLUENCE.  59 

fulness  to  so  weighty  a  point?  What  if  life  is  young, 
and  its  paths  are  strewed  with  flowers  ?  What  if 
the  current  of  your  ordinary  ideas  runs  in  a  contrary 
direction  ?  What  if  a  due  sense  of  the  true  respons- 
ibilities of  life  should  restrain,  in  some  degree,  the 
gayety  of  your  spirits  ?  Are  you,  therefore,  to 
trample  upon  the  happiness  of  others  ?  Are  you  to 
peril  your  own  best  interests  ?  Remember,  as  is 
your  influence,  so  is  your  destiny.  There  is  a  woe 
for  those  who  suffer  from  evil  influence ;  but  a 
heavier,  direr  woe  for  her  "by  whom  the  offence 
cometh.,,  Consider,  therefore,  my  dear  young  lady, 
with  a  seriousness  worthy  of  your  immortal  nature, 
and  a  gravity  beyond  your  years,  the  bearings  of  this 
momentous  question.  Resolve,  in  the  silent  depths 
of  your  reflecting  spirit,  "I  will  take  care  of  my 
influence!" 

Transport  your  mind  back,  through  departed  time, 
some  thousand  years,  and  enter  with  me  one  of  the 
royal  castles  of  England.  Within  one  of  its  turret 
chambers  behold  a  youthful  bride,  the  daughter  of  an 
emperor,  the  wife  of  a  king.     Why  is  she  secluded 


60  THE   YOUNG   LADY  s   COUNSELLOR. 

here,  while  the  old  halls  of  the  castle  are  resounding 
with  the  merry  voices  of  high-born  youths  and  noble 
ladies  ?  What  is  her  occupation  ?  Let  that  antique 
volume  of  illuminated  manuscripts,  containing  the 
gems  of  Saxon  poetry,  be  your  answer  !  She  finds 
her  pleasure  not  in  the  idle  pastimes  of  an  ignorant 
court,  but  in  the  study  of  polite  literature.  She  is 
devoted  to  the  duty  of  self-culture  to  the  full  extent 
of  her  means  and  opportunities.  Now,  as  we  gaze 
on  this  enthusiastic  young  woman,  it  would  appear 
romantically  improbable,  if  I  were  to  predict  that  her 
influence  would  lead  to  the  elevation  of  England 
from  a  state  of  semi-barbarism,  obscurity  and  impo- 
tency,  to  a  position  so  potential  and  commanding  as 
to  make  her  feared,  envied  and  admired,  by  all  the 
other  nations  of  earth.  Yet  what  would  have  then 
seemed  romantic  as  a  prediction,  is  now  an  historical 
fact.  For  this  lady's  name  is  Judith,  the  step- 
mother of  that  great  prince,  Alfred,  whose  talents 
and  genius  laid  the  foundations  of  England's  legal, 
commercial  and  intellectual  superiority.  And  it  was 
to  Judith  he  was  indebted  for  the  first  awakening  of 


INFLUENCE.  61 

his  intellectual  life,  the  development  of  his  noble 
qualities,  and  the  formation  of  his  splendid  character 
Hence,  but  for  the  influence  of  this  superior  princess, 
Alfred  would  never  have  been  what  he  was ;  and  his 
country  would  never,  perhaps,  have  achieved  the 
stupendous  greatness  which  it  now  possesses,  by 
which  it  does,  and  will,  perhaps  to  the  end  of  time, 
affect  the  destinies  of  the  world. 

The  design  of  this  illustration  is  to  remove  from 
your  mind  that  incredulity  which  arose  in  it  as  you 
read  my  remarks  concerning  the  immense  extent  and 
duration  of  individual  influence.  You  thought  it 
impossible  that  you,  a  young  lady,  could  possess 
such  a  fearful  power  for  good  or  ill.  Had  the 
youthful  Judith  been  told  the  precise  results  of  her 
influence  on  the  world,  she  would  have  ridiculed  the 
statement,  and  have  pronounced  its  author  insane. 
Yet  there  stands  its  living  record,  in  the  history  and 
condition  of  the  British  nation.  And,  since  a  cor- 
responding power  resides  in  your  soul,  who  can 
imagine  the  fathomless  depths  of  the  consequences 
which  are  yet  to  proceed  from  its  exercise  ?     Your 


62  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

sex,  instead  of  shielding"  you  from  the  necessity  of 
exerting  such  power,  exposes  you  to  it  in  the  strong- 
est manner ;  for  it  brings  you  in  contact  with  mind 
when  in  its  most  impressible  state,  and  when  your 
influence  over  it  is  abounding,  and  almost  absolute. 
You  think,  perhaps,  if  you  were  of  the  other  sex,  and 
your  sphere  was  with  warriors,  statesmen  and  magis- 
trates, on  the  public  arena  of  life,  there  might  be  at 
least  a  possibility  of  your  casting  a  stone  into  the 
sea  of  humanity,  whose  ever  enlarging  influence 
would  be  seen  circling  immeasurably  far  into  the 
misty  future.  But  your  sphere  is  private,  limited 
and  feminine,  and  cannot  afford  scope  for  such 
results,  you  think.  Vain  thought !  You  are  a  sis- 
ter, and  may  mould  a  brother's  mind  to  virtue  and  to 
usefulness.  You  are  a  daughter,  and  for  your  sake 
your  father  may  put  forth  efforts  of  unbounded 
might.  You  may  hereafter  bear  the  honored  name 
of  wife,  and  the  more  sacred  one  of  mother.  Your 
influence  may  then  determine  the  character  of  your 
husband,  and  fix  the  destiny  of  your  children.  It 
may  make  your  son  an  Augustine,  a  Washington, 


INFLUENCE.  63 

an  Oberlin,  a  Wesley;  or  it  may  leave  him  to  curse 
his  race,  with  pestiferous  teachings,  like  Socinus  or 
Murray,  with  wars  of  ambition,  like  Napoleon,  or 
with  a  baleful  legacy  of  infidelity  and  vice,  like 
Hume  or  Carlyle.  For  who  can  imagine  that  if 
Monica  had  been  an  irreligious  woman,  Augustine 
would  have  been  a  holy  bishop  ?  If  Washington's 
mother  had  not  inspired  him  with  the  principles  of 
self-denying  patriotism,  his  country  might  have 
found  him  a  tyrant,  instead  of  a  father.  And  but  for 
the  sterling  qualities  found  in  the  mothers  of  Oberlin 
and  Wesley,  the  name  of  the  former  would  never 
have  adorned  the  annals  of  benevolence  with  such 
enchanting  beauty  ;  nor  would  the  latter  have  erect- 
ed that  vast  ecclesiastical  fabric,  whose  strong  and 
rapid  growth  is  the  greatest  moral  wonder  of  the  last 
century.  Say  not,  therefore,  that  because  you  are  a 
woman  your  influence  must  be  limited,  but  remem- 
ber that  your  sex  places  you  at  the  head- waters  of 
the  great  river  of  humanity,  where  a  pebble  may 
change  the  direction  of  the  streamlet. 

It  is  said  that  a  little  boy  in  Holland  was  return- 


64  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

ing  one  night  from  a  village,  to  which  he  had  been 
sent  by  his  father  on  an  errand,  when  he  observed 
the  water  trickling  through  a  narrow  opening  in  the 
dyke.  He  paused,  reflected  on  the  consequence? 
that  might  follow  if  that  aperture  was  not  closed. 
He  knew,  for  he  had  often  heard  his  father  relate  the 
sad  disasters  proceeding  from  such  small  beginnings, 
that  in  a  few  hours  that  opening  would  enlarge,  and 
let  in  the  mighty  mass  of  waters  pressing  on  the 
dyke,  until,  the  whole  defence  being  washed  away, 
the  adjacent  village  would  be  destroyed.  Should  he 
hasten  home  and  alarm  the  villagers,  it  would  be 
dark  before  they  could  arrive,  and  the  orifice  might 
even  then,  be  so  large  as  to  defy  attempts  to  close  it. 
Prompted  by  these  thoughts,  he  seated  himself  on 
the  bank  of  the  canal,  stopped  the  opening  with  his 
hand,  and  patiently  awaited  the  approach  of  some 
villager.  But  no  one  came.  Hour  after  hour  rolled 
slowly  past  in  cold  and  darkness,  yet  there  sat  the 
heroic  boy,  shivering,  wet  and  weary,  but  stoutly 
pressing  his  hand  against  the  dangerous  breach.  At 
last  the  morning  broke.     A  clergyman,  walking  up 


INFLUENCE.  65 

the  canal,  heard  a  groan  and  sought  for  its  author. 
"  Why  are  you  here,  my  child  ?  "  he  asked,  surprised 
at  the  boy's  position. 

"  I  am  keeping  back  the  water,  sir,  and  saving  the 
village  from  being  drowned,"  responded  the  child, 
with  lips  so  benumbed  with  cold  they  could  scarcely 
articulate  the  words. 

The  astonished  minister  relieved  the  boy.  The 
dyke  was  closed,  and  the  danger  which  had  threat- 
ened hundreds  of  lives  averted.  "  Heroic  boy!  what 
a  noble  spirit  of  self-devotedness  he  displayed  !  "  you 
exclaim.  True  ;  but  what  was  it  that  sustained  him 
in  his  mission  through  that  lonesome  night  ?  Why, 
when  his  lips  chattered,  his  limbs  trembled  and  his 
heart  palpitated,  did  he  not  fly  to  the  warmth  and 
safety  of  home?  What  thought  bound  him  to  his 
seat?  Was  it  not  the  responsibility  of  his  position  9 
Did  he  not  restrain  every  desire  to  leave  it,  by  the 
thought  of  what  would  follow,  if  he  should  ?  His 
mind  pictured  the  quiet  homes  and  beautiful  farms 
of  the  people  inundated  by  the  flood  of  waters,  and 
he  determined  to  maintain  his  position  or  to  die. 


66        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

And  ought  not  the  higher  and  more  weighty  respons- 
ibility of  your  position  —  possessing,  as  you  do,  the 
power  to  turn  a  tide  of  endless  death,  or  a  stream  of 
perennial  life,  upon  the  pathway  of  mankind  —  to 
beget  in  you  a  purpose,  stern,  resolute,  inflexible,  to 
be  true  to  your  position,  and  to  use  your  influence 
for  good,  and  not  for  evil  ?  Say  not  of  yourself,  in 
careless,  self-abandonment  to  circumstances, 

{f  I  am  as  a  weed 
Flung  from  the  rock,  on  ocean's  foam  to  sail 
Where'er  the  surge  may  sweep,  the  tempest's  breath  prevail." 

But  take  your  stand  before  the  world,  with  an  in- 
vincible determination  —  with 

11  An  earnest  purpose  for  a  generous  end." 

Consecrate  your  influence  to  virtue,  to  humanity 
to  God.  Thus,  in  your  life,  you  shall  be  "  like  a 
star  glittering  in  its  own  mild  lustre,  undimmed  by 
the  radiance  of  another,  and  uneclipsed  by  the  deep 
shades  of  the  midnight  heavens." 

In  that  remarkable  work,  entitled  the  "  Connection 
of  the  Physical  Sciences,"  by  Mary  Somerville  1 


INFLUENCE.  67 

find  this  interesting  example  of  the  cohesive  power 
by  which  the  atoms  of  material  substances  are  held 
together.  The  manufacturers  of  plate  glass,  after 
polishing  the  large  plates  of  which  mirrors  are  to  be 
made,  carefully  wipe  them  and  lay  them  on  their 
edges,  with  their  surfaces  resting  on  one  another.  It 
not  unfrequently  happens,  that,  in  a  short  time,  the 
cohesion  is  so  powerful  they  cannot  be  separated 
without  breaking.  Instances  have  occurred  where 
two  or  three  have  been  so  perfectly  united,  that  they 
have  been  cut  and  their  edges  polished,  as  if  they 
had  been  fused  together ;  and  so  great  was  the  force 
required  to  make  their  surfaces  slide,  that  one  tore 
off  a  portion  of  the  surface  of  the  other ! 

How  mighty  must  be  that  force,  which,  acting  on 
these  plates,  binds  them  in  inseparable  unity  !  The 
same  cohesion  unites  the  particles  of  our  globe,  and  is 
the  force  that  prevents  it  from  crumbling  into  atoms. 
But,  mighty  as  it  is,  it  is  invisible.  How  it  acts,  no 
mind  has  yet  discovered.  We  see  its  effects,  but  we 
cannot  perceive  its  operations.  Yet  who  is  so  fool- 
hardy as  to  deny  its  existence,  because  it  refuses  to 


68        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

reveal  its  presence,  or  unfold  the  mystery  of  its 
action  ?  Nay,  we  concede  it  as  a  fact  demonstrated 
by  every  material  substance  that  meets  our  eyes. 

By  similar  evidence  —  that  of  facts — we  are  com 
pelled  to  admit  that  powerful  influences  are  exerted 
by  one  mind  upon  another.  These  facts  are  over- 
whelming, both  in  number  and  in  weight.  Yet  who 
can  perceive  the  transmission  of  influence  ?  Often- 
when  we  are  utterly  unconscious  of  what  we  do,  oth- 
ers are  receiving  indelible  impressions  from  oui 
words,  looks  or  actions,  —  impressions  which  will 
affect  their  destiny,  and  that  of  the  world,  forever. 
We  forget  this,  and  act  without  respect  to  others,  in 
a  great  degree,  because  we  do  not  see  the  power  we 
exert.  A  young  lady,  who  would  shrink  appalled  at 
the  idea  of  daily  puncturing  her  brother's  eye  with  a 
needle,  to  the  destruction  of  his  sight,  will  breathe  a 
spirit  of  discontent,  pride  and  folly,  into  his  mind ; 
and  thus,  by  disturbing  his  happiness  at  home  drive 
him  to  seek  congenial  society  abroad,  where  his  mor- 
als grow  depraved,  his  character  is  lost,  and  his  soul 
ruined.     This  fearful  xesult  she  brings  about,  without 


INFLUENCE.  69 

o  sigh  of  regret  or  a  pang  of  sorrow.  When  the  evil 
work  is  done,  she  weeps  over  the  wreck,  and  would 
give  the  gold  of  the  world  to  restore  the  fallen  one. 
Yet  for  her  share  in  causing  this  destruction  she  sheds 
not  a  tear ;  indeed,  she  is  unconscious  that  any  por- 
tion of  the  blame  lies  at  her  door.  Her  influence 
was  silent  and  invisible  when  in  exercise,  and  yet  it 
drove  her  brother  to  ruin. 

Another  peculiarity  of  influence  is  the  distance  of 
the  effect  from  the  cause.  Years  will  often  elapse 
between  the  sowing  of  the  seed  and  the  ripening  of 
the  fruit  —  between  the  uttered  thought,  the  angry 
glance,  or  the  decisive  act,  and  its  result.  Longfel- 
low has  a  beautiful  illustration  of  this,  in  one  of  his 
poems.  He  bids  you  stand  on  the  bright  green- 
sward !  Shoot  an  arrow  into  the  air  !  You  watch 
its  upward  flight,  as  it  cleaves  the  sky;  but  its  fall  is 
so  swift  that  your  eye  fails  to  detect  its  resting-place. 
You  search  in  vain  to  find  it,  and  pronounce  it  lost. 
Long,  long  afterward,  while  wandering  over  the  field, 
you  perceive  the  lost  shaft  entire,  sticking  in  an 
aged  oak ! 


70        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Again  :  you  breathe  a  sweet  song  into  the  air.  ft 
falls,  you  know  not,  think  not,  where ;  but  long,  long 
afterwards,  you  may  find  it  in  the  heart  of  a  friend  ! 
It  is  thus  with  influence,  for  good  or  evil.  Its  con- 
sequences are  often  hidden  from  the  eye  for  many 
years.  Many  of  them  —  perhaps  the  most  —  will  re- 
main thus  secret  until  the  day  which  will  discover 
to  a  universe  the  things  that  were  done  in  public  or 
m  private  life. 

Picture  to  your  mind  a  young  mother,  with  her  little 
boy  scarce  seven  years  old.  She  lifts  him  from  his 
couch  in  the  morning,  and  with  mild  words  bids  him 
kneel  and  say  his  infant  prayers.  Obediently  he 
drops  upon  his  knees.  With  upraised  hands,  closed 
eyes,  and  gentle  voice,  he  sends  up  his  oft-repeated 
petition.  Presently  he  is  silent.  Then,  with  her 
hands  softly  resting  upon  his  head,  a  voice  of  touch- 
ing melody,  and  a  heart  overflowing  with  true  mater- 
nal love,  she  breathes  a  holy  prayer  for  her  child. 
Sweet  is  the  air  of  that  chamber;  delightful  the 
emotions  of  that  little  bosom ;  and  pure  is  the  love 
with  which  he  embraces  his  devoted  mother,  when 


INFLUENCE.  71 

their  matin  prayers  are  ended.  At  the  vesper  hour 
this  scene  is  repeated  ;  and  thus,  day  by  day,  this 
pious  woman  strives  to  bring  down  holy  influences 
upon  her  child's  heart.  Before  her  boy  has  well 
passed  his  seventh  year,  however,  she  is  called  by 
the  angel  of  death  to  the  spirit  land,  little  dreaming 
of  the  immense  power  and  duration  of  her  influence, 
hereafter  to  be  exercised  over  the  world  through  that 
boy.  Yet,  in  after  years,  her  pure  image  haunted 
his  memory,  rebuking  his  vices  and  beckoning 
him  to  the  ways  of  virtue  and  religion,  until  he 
kneeled  at  the  cross  of  Christ.  He  became  an  elo- 
quent and  successful  minister,  an  author  and  a 
sacred  poet.  Through  his  labors,  Claudius  Buchan- 
an, one  of  the  apostles  of  missionary  effort  in  India, 
and  the  instrument  of  awakening  the  attention  of 
that  great  Burmese  missionary,  Judson,  to  the  wants 
of  India,  was  converted.  Through  him,  also,  Scott, 
the  commentator,  was  led  to  Christ,  and  to  the 
consequent  production  of  his  valuable  commentary. 
Another  of  his  converts  was  Wilberforce,  the 
champion  of  African  freedom,  and  the  author  of  that 


72  THE    YOtTNO   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

"  Practical  View  of  Christianity"  which,  among 
other  great  results,  brought  Legh  Richmond  into  the 
ranks  of  Christian  discipleship,  and  inspired  him 
with  that  heavenly  spirit  which  fitted  him  to  write 
that  most  useful  of  tracts,  "  The  Dairyman's  Daugh- 
ter." That  boy  was  the  Rev.  John  Newton,  and 
that  woman  was  his  mother.  How  immeasurable 
was  the  influence  she  exerted  in  that  solitary  cham- 
ber, so  silently,  and  through  the  heart  of  a  child ! 
Yet  it  was  long  before  it  began  to  yield  its  fruit. 
For  nearly  twenty  years  it  was  apparently  dead  in 
his  heart ;  but  it  sprung  forth  at  last,  and  was,  as  we 
have  shown,  superabundantly  fruitful. 

An  example  of  evil  influence,  working  through 
centuries  of  time,  and  upheaving  like  a  volcano,  long 
after  its  author  slept  in  death,  is  found  in  the  case  of 
Louisa  of  Savoy,  the  mother  of  Francis  the  First, 
King  of  France.  She  lived  when  the  Reformation 
began  to  unfold  its  energies  on  the  soil  of  France. 
For  a  moment  it  commanded  her  attention  ;  it  seized 
on  her  convictions,  but  obtained  no  hold  upon  her 
depraved  affections.     The  Princess  Margaret,  her 


INFLUENCE.  73 

daughter,  with  other  noble  ladies,  the  aristocratic 
Bishop  of  Meaux,  and  several  eminent  scholars,  em- 
braced it  with  fervor,  and  labored  for  it  with  zeal. 
It  needed  only  the  friendship  of  Louisa  to  secure  its 
triumph.  For  a  time  she  permitted  it  to  spread 
unchecked ;  but  when  her  son  Francis  had  endan- 
gered the  stability  of  his  throne,  and  lay  a  prisoner 
of  war  in  Spain,  political  considerations  decided  this 
dissolute  queen-mother  to  assume  an  attitude  of  per- 
secuting hostility  towards  it.  She  invoked  the  spirit 
of  persecution,  set  the  unhallowed  machinery  of  the 
inquisition  in  motion,  and  thus  began  that  terrible 
process  of  cruelty,  which,  after  centuries  of  conflict 
and  bloodshed,  succeeded  in  extirpating  it  from  the 
soil.  Sad  have  been  the  consequences  to  France. 
The  Eeformation  expelled,  infidelity  sprung  up,  rank 
and  poisonous  ;  it  became  the  animating  spirit  of  the 
people,  until,  mad  with  its  excitement,  they  waded 
through  pools  of  blood  to  the  altar  of  reason,  and 
daringly  defied  the  God  of  heaven.  It  is  by  no 
means  difficult  to  see  the  connection  between  the 
aaarchical  proceedings  of  modern  France  and  the 


74  THE   YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOl 

conduct  of  Louisa  of  Savoy.  It  was  in  her  power 
to  confirm  and  establish  the  Reformation,  and  thus 
give  blessing,  honor  and  prosperity,  to  her  country  : 
she  chose  to  persecute  it.  Her  spirit  was  transmit- 
ted to  posterity,  and  lives,  in  its  most  baleful  effects, 
at  the  present  hour.  How  truly  has  influence  been 
compared  to  the  bubbling,  spring,  which  dances  up 
from  a  little  crevice  in  a  mountain  recess,  and  sends 
forth  a  tinkling  stream,  so  small  that  a  "  single  ox, 
on  a  summer's  day,  could  drink  it  dry."  Yet  it 
speeds  unnoticed  on  its  way,  levying  contributions 
upon  its  sister  springs,  and  mingling  with  other 
streams,  until  it  acquires  force  sufficient  to  cut  itself 
a  broad,  deep  pathway  between  the  hills ;  and  lo ! 
hundreds  of  miles  from  its  source,  it  flows  in  impos- 
ing magnificence,  bearing  proud  navies  on  itfi  ample 
bosom,  until,  with  resistless  impetuosity,  it  rushes 
into  the  vast  waters  of  the  "  boundless  sea." 

I  fancy — perhaps  I  am  mistaken  —  that  your  mind 
refuses  to  feel  the  full  impression  concerning  the 
importance  of  individual  influence .  which  the  facts 
herein  described  are  calculated  to  produce,  because 


INFLUENCE.  75 

of  the  comparative  obscurity  of  your  sphere.  You 
say  to  yourself,  "  Were  I  a  princess  or  a  queen,  I 
might,  like  Judith  or  Louisa,  set  in  motion  immuta- 
ble, potent  and  immortal  influences ;  but  I  move  in  a 
narrower  sphere,  and  such  things  are  impossible  for 
me." 

Reason  not  thus,  young  lady,  I  pray  you,  lest  you 
throw  off  a  sense  of  responsibility  that  it  were  better 
to  retain.  It  is  influence  that  is  thus  powerful,  not 
the  influence  of  those  in  high  stations.  The  effect 
of  their  conduct  is  more  easily  traced,  because  it 
works  through  public  affairs.  But  the  influence  of  a 
beggar  girl  is  as  potential  in  her  sphere  as  is  that  of 
a  queen  in  her  more  enlarged  circle.  Wealth,  sta- 
tion, talent,  may  add  to  the  force  and  extent  of  influ- 
ence, but  they  cannot  create  it.  It  is  an  attribute  of 
your  nature,  inseparable  from  it,  inherent  in  it 
Obscurity  cannot  prevent  its  exercise.  The  possible 
consequences  of  your  actions  upon  others  are  as 
measureless  as  those  that  proceed  from  the  acts  of 
that  puissant  lady,  Queen  Victoria.  They  may  be 
equally,   nay,   transcendently  more  precious,   even 


76  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

though  you  are  a  lonely  orphan  girl,  dependent  upon 
others  for  your  support.  That  timely  word  of  affec- 
tionate interest  for  her  lord,  dropped  by  the  Syrian 
damsel  in  the  ear  of  her  mistress,  is  an  example.  It 
brought  health  to  a  great  warrior,  —  it  led  him  to  a 
knowledge  of  the  true  God ;  to  the  spread  of  the 
Divine  name;  and  it  has  lived  through  centuries, 
stimulating  untold  thousands  to  speak  words  of  love 
and  to  do  deeds  of  benevolence.  Obscurity  has  no 
power,  therefore,  to  neutralize  this  gift.  If  you  exist, 
you  must  exert  power  over  others,  for  weal  or  woe. 

At  the  close  of  a  summer's  day,  a  group  of  laugh- 
ing girls  sat  on  the  steps  of  a  pavilion  which  stood,  a 
summer  residence,  in  the  midst  of  beautiful  grounds. 
The  air  rung  with  their  merry  voices,  and  the  groves 
echoed  back  their  laughter.  "What,"  said  one  of 
them,  "  should  we  choose  for  our  lot,  if  some  good 
fairy  should  stand  before  us,  and  grant  us  each  a 
wish  ?  " 

"  I  would  choose  to  be  a  countess,  with  my  hawks 
and  hounds  to  hunt  withal,"  cried  one,  her  dark  eye 
gleaming  with  the  pride  which  inspired  the  wish. 


INFLUENCE.  77 

"  I  would  found  a  college,"  said  another,  whose 
ample  brow  and  intelligent  features  proclaimed  her 
own  love  of  literature. 

"  I  would  build  a  hospital  that  should  be  a  house 
of  refuge  for  the  poor,  and  a  home  for  the  sick,  — 
where  love  might  soothe  their  pains  and  lighten  their 
burden  of  sorrow,"  replied  a  third,  while  a  tear  of 
benevolence,  sparkling  in  her  eye,  declared  the  ten- 
derness of  the  heart  that  prompted  this  wish. 

"  And  if  I  were  married,  I  would  —  " 

A  loud  laugh  interrupted  this  fourth  speaker.  It 
came  from  the  father  of  the  girls,  who,  unperceived, 
had  approached  the  party,  and  overheard  their 
wishes.  After  some  exclamations  of  surprise  had 
died  away,  the  father,  who  was  no  less  a  personage 
than  the  famous  Sir  Thomas  More,  announced  his 
purpose  to  grant  the  wish  of  his  daughter  Mercy, 
and  build  a  hospital.  The  hospital  was  erected,  and 
many  a  disconsolate  heart  found  shelter  and  comfort 
within  its  walls.  So  potent  was  that  wish,  idly 
uttered  in  a  moment  of  girlish  gayety. 

The  lesson  inscribed  on  this  fact  is  the  uncer- 


78       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

tainty  which  attaches  to  the  particular  acts  of  life, 
It  shows  a  careless  word  prolific  of  highly  beneficial 
results,  bringing  joy  to  many  hearts.  In  like  man- 
ner, a  careless  word  may  do  evil.  Hence,  we  never 
know  the  real  importance  of  our  own  acts.  We  can- 
not judge  which  of  them  will  be  most  influential.  A 
truth  that  invests  every  detail  of  life  with  moral 
grandeur,  and  demands  the  liveliest  attention  to  our 
minutest  actions. 

Permit  me,  young  lady,  to  ask  you  how  you  are 
to  wield  this  tremendous  element  of  power,  with  ben- 
efit to  others,  unless  you  do  it  by  the  aid  of  Divine 
grace  ?  How  can  you  consecrate  it  to  goodness,  un- 
less the  Almighty  Spirit  of  goodness  imparts  the 
power?  How  can  you  attain  the  wise  thoughtful- 
ness,  the  lofty  aim,  the  unselfish  motive,  the  resolute 
will,  so  essential  to  right  influence,  unless  from  the 
indwelling  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  love,  wisdom  and 
purity  ?  How  can  you,  so  weak,  so  thoughtless,  so 
inexperienced,  safely  guard  and  rightly  expend,  this 
priceless  treasure,  in  your  own  unassisted  strength  ? 
It  is  impossible  !     You  could   as   easily  create  an 


INFLUENCE.  79 

archangel  with  a  word,  as  to  rightly  exert  your  influ- 
ence without  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  Reject 
him,  and  retributive  justice  will  write  anathema  on 
your  influence.  You  shall  feed  on  its  terrible  fruit 
forever,  As  a  spectre,  with  your  name  written  in 
distortion  on  its  face,  it  shall  stand  before  you.  It 
shall  draw  the  curtain  of  your  couch  when  you  sleep, 
and  extend  you  an  ice-cold  hand.  It  will  stand 
before  you  at  the  hour  of  death,  and  thrust  aside  your 
last  prayer.  It  will  stand  upon  your  grave  in  the 
resurrection,  and  at  your  side  when  God  shall  judge 
you.^  But,  by  embracing  Christ,  the  will,  the  mo- 
tive, the  power  to  consecrate  your  influence  to  benefi- 
cent ends,  will  be  given  you.  You  will  move  as  an 
angel  of  goodness  on  earth.  Your  influence,  living 
after  your  death,  will  remain 

11  A  rill,  a  river,  and  a  boundless  sea," 

upon  whose  waters  numberless  trophies  shall  be 
borne,  to  adorn  your  triumph  when  you  take  youi 
place  among  the  victors  in  the  kingdom  of  God. 

*  See  Schiller. 


CHAPTEK  IV. 

THE  TRUE   SPHERE  OF   WOMAN. 

HE  heroic  achievements  of  the 
shepherdess  of  Domremi,  Joa:*  of 
Arc,  are  no  doubt  familiar  to  my 
young  reader.  Her  imaginary  in- 
spiration; her  enthusiastic  persist- 
,  ence  in  the  execution  of  her  supposed 
mission  ;  her  daring  courage,  as,  armed 
cap-a-pie  and  mounted  on  a  fiery  war- 
horse,  she  led  the  embattled  hosts  of 
France  to  victory ;  her  success,  her  sincer- 
ity, her  melancholy  fate,  —  have  awakened" 
your  wonder,  your  admiration,  and  your  .pity.  Her 
romantic  elevation  from  the  peasant's  hut  to  the  pal- 
aces of  kings,  her  brilliant  but  brief  career,  her  as- 
tounding influence  over  proud  ecclesiastics,  haughty 
nobles  and  great  princes,  her  unquestionable  and  sue- 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  81 

cessful  patriotism,  are  written  indelibly  upon  your 
imagination.  But  I  am  bold  to  presume  that,  with 
all  your  surprise  at  her  deeds,  you  have  never  really 
loved  her  character  Not  that  there  is  nothing  lovely 
in  it;  but  her  masculine  attitude  casts  so  deep  a 
shadow  upon  her  more  womanly  qualities,  you  feel 
constrained  to  withhold  your  love.  You  cannot  sym- 
pathize with  a  woman  warrior.  Her  position,  as  a 
military  leader  and  combatant,  unsexes  her  before 
your  feelings,  and  you  rank  her  with  the  anomalies 
of  your  sex. 

On  the  contrary,  you  can  contemplate  the  charac- 
ter of  Hannah  More  with  a  truly  affectionate  regard 
—  albeit  she  too  was  a  patriotic  defender  and  savior 
of  her  nation.  You  can  contemplate  her  amiable 
spirit,  heaving  with  anxious  concern  at  the  dangers 
which  hung  over  her  country,  at  a  period  when  revo- 
lution and  Anarchy  threatened  its  institutions.  You 
can  study  her  mind  laboring  to  discern  a  method  by 
which  she  could  aid  in  warding  off  the  impending 
danger.  You  can  witness  her  studious  labors  with 
the  pen,  and  read  her  earnest  appeals  to  the  loyalty 


82  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

and  good  sense  of  the  English  people,  through  hei 
popular  tracts.  You  can  trace  the  success  of  these 
appeals  in  the  altered  feelings  of  thousands  toward 
the  government,  and  in  the  constitutional  and  peace- 
ful reforms  subsequently  brought  to  pass  in  that 
country.  You  can  hear  her  named,  by  the  voice  of 
Fame,  as  having  been  one  of  the  principal  instru- 
ments of  saving  the  nation,  —  but  no  repugnant  feel- 
ing rises  in  your  breast  toward  her.  You  can 
admire  her  talents,  her  patriotism,  wonder  at  her 
success,  and,  withal,  you  can  ardently  love  her  char- 
acter. While  Joan  of  Arc  lives  in  your  imagination, 
Hannah  More  occupies  a  place  in  your  affections. 

For  this  difference  in  your  feelings,  you  are  not 
responsible.  Your  repugnance  to  the  character  of 
Joan  of  Arc,  and  your  affectionate  regard  for  that  of 
Miss  More,  are  alike  instinctive.  They  both  flow 
from  the  constitution  of  your  nature.  They  are  not 
peculiar  to  your  own  mind,  nor  to  your  own  sex. 
There  are  few,  if  any,  minds  uninfluenced  by  pecu- 
liar opinions,  that  would  not  be  similarly  affected  at 
once,  by  an  impartial  view  of  these  two  characters. 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  83 

The  same  remarks  are  applicable  to  all  other  women 
of  corresponding  qualities.  Who,  for  example,  can 
love  the  masculine  energy  of  that  really  strong- 
minded  woman,  Queen  Elizabeth  ?  Her  qualities, 
great  and  high  as  they  were,  cannot  command  our 
affections,  even  though  she  stands  before  us  as  the 
"  good  Queen  Bess."  So  with  Martha  Glar,  the 
Swiss  heroine,  who  led  over  two  hundred  women  to 
the  field  of  Frauenbrun  and  to  death,  in  defence  of 
liberty ;  with  Jael,  the  destroyer  of  Sisera ;  and  with 
every  other  woman  who  has  stepped  over  the  sphere 
which  nature,  with  unerring  wisdom,  has  assigned  to 
her  sex.  While  Volumnia  and  Virgilia,  the  mother 
and  wife  of  Coriolanus,  who  saved  their  country  by 
affectionate  appeals  to  the  love  and  patriotism  of  that 
indignant  warrior,  —  Lady  Jane  Grey,  who  chose 
imprisonment  and  death  rather  than  to  shed  English 
blood  in  defence  of  her  claims, — and  even  Queen  Vic- 
toria, in  whom  the  woman  is  more  prominent  than 
the  queen,  with  hosts  of  others,  who  have  blended  true 
womanly  qualities  with  great  and  heroic  deeds,  live  in 
the  affections  of  both  sexes.     How  clear,  therefore,  is 


84        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

the  truth,  that  women  in  their  proper  sphere  can  man- 
ifest noble  qualities,  and  be  appreciated ;  but  women 
out  of  their  sphere,  while  their  deeds  may  command 
partial  admiration,  cannot  be  beloved  or  appreciated 
like  the  former.  And  this  is  not  the  result  of  cori 
ventional  habits  or  opinions.  It  is  a  law  of  the 
human  mind,  from  which  there  •  can  be  no  successful 
appeal.  If  nature  designed  men  and  women  to  move 
in  one  and  the  same  sphere,  this  intuitive  repug- 
nance toward  masculine  ladies  would  be  unknown. 
They  would  rather  be  hailed  with  acclamation  and 
viewed  with  pleasure,  as  models  for  their  sex. 

I  should  not  have  intruded  the  question  of  wo- 
man's sphere  upon  your  attention,  young  lady,  but 
for  the  claims  so  notoriously  set  up  by  a  certain  class 
of  modern  agitators  in  favor  of  what  is  technically 
called  "  woman's  rights."  These  invaders  of  ancient 
ideas,  who  appear  to  regard  everything  as  error 
which  has  the  sanction  of  antiquity,  and  everything  • 
as  truth  which  is  novel,  would  lead  you  on  a  vain 
crusade,  for  political,  governmental  and  ecclesiastical 
parity,   with   the    other  sex.     The    ballot-box,  the 


THE   TRUE    SPHERE    OF    WOMAN.  85 

hustings,  the  bar,  the  halls  of  legislation,  the  offices 
of  state,  the  pulpit,  are  demanded  as  fitting  arenas 
for  the  exercise  of  your  talents.  There  ought  to  be 
no  barrier  in  your  way  to  any  position  in  society 
whatever,  merely  because  you  are  a  woman.  Am 
you  are  wronged,  injured  and  proscribed,  so  long  ao 
you  are  debarred,  either  by  law  or  prejudice,  from 
entering  any  sphere  you  may  prefer.  Such  are  the 
claims  set  up  and  advocated  for  your  sex,  by  those 
who  would  have  you  not  a  woman,  but  an  Amazon. 

Against  these  views  I  know  that  your  woman's 
nature  utters  its  indignant  protest,  which  is  endorsed 
with  equal  emphasis  by  your  physical  constitution. 
And  the  voice  of  that  sacred  charter  of  woman's 
rights,  —  her  great  emancipator,  —  the  Gospel  of  Je- 
sus Christ,  supports  this  protest  of  your  nature,  and 
rebukes  the  audacity  of  these  modern  innovators. 
The  Saviour,  while  he  invited  woman  to  listen  to  his 
voice,  permitted  her  to  minister  to  his  comfort,  and 
to  hover,  like  an  angel  of  love,  about  his  path  of  sor- 
row, never  called  her  to  his  side  as  an  apostle,  nor 
sent  her  forth  as  a  public  teacher  of  mankind.     His 


86        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

truth,  entering  her  gentle  spirit,  added  lustre  to  her 
virtues,  and  consecrated  her  skill  to  deeds  of  mercy. 
It  produced  a  Mary,  with  her  meek  loveliness;  a 
Dorcas,  with  her  benevolent  care  for  the  poor;  a 
Lydia  and  an  "  elect  lady,"  with  their  noble  hospi- 
tality. It  made  delicate  and  trembling  girls  heroic 
martyrs ;  but  it  never  produced  a  bold  declaimer,  an 
Amazonian  disputant,  nor  a  shameless  contender  for 
political  and  ecclesiastical  rights.  R  elevated  her, 
but  left  her  in  her  own  sphere.  It  increased  her 
influence,  but  it  never  changed  her  mission.  Neither 
does  the  Gospel  intimate  that  at  the  climax  of  its 
triumph  it  will  remove  her  from  her  distinct  and 
appropriate  sphere. 

Permit  me,  by  way  of  illustrating  another  feature 
of  this  question,  to  lead  you  into  the  sitting-room  of 
a  respectable  and  pious  lady.  She  is  neatly  but 
plainly  attired,  and  is  busy,  with  the  aid  of  a  servant, 
dusting  and  cleaning  the  room.  The  door-bell  rings, 
and  the  girl  hastens  to  see  who  is  the  visitor.  She 
finds  the  lady's  pastor  at  the  door,  and,  without  cere- 
mony, ushers  him  into  the  sitting-room.     The  lady's 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  87 

face  is  suffused  with  blushes,  as  she  confusedly  lays 
aside  her  dusting-brush,  and  offers  her  hand  to  the 
minister,  saying,  "  Sir,  I  am  ashamed  you  should 
find  me  thus." 

"  Let  Christ,  when  he  cometh,  find  me  so  doing," 
replies  her  pastor. 

"  What,  sir !  do  you  wish  to  be  found  in  this  em- 
ployment?" earnestly  inquires  the  astonished  lady. 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  wish  to  be  found  faithfully  per- 
forming the  duties  of  my  mission,  as  I  have  found 
you  fulfilling  yours." 

And  was  not  the  minister  right  ?  He  recognized 
a  great,  but  a  despised  truth.  '  He  saw  as  high  a 
moral  importance  in  the  humble  task  of  the  lady  as  in 
the  missions  of  Gabriel  to  the  ancient  prophets  :  for 
both  did  the  will  of  God  in  their  respective  spheres  , 
and  diversity  of  sphere  does  not  necessarily  involve 
real  inferiority  in  the  employment.  The  lady  in  her 
home  could  exhibit  an  affection  as  true,  and  an  obe- 
dience as  sincere,  as  the  angel  in  his  sphere.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  show  wherein  her  employment 
was  morally  and  necessarily  inferior  to  his,  inasmuch 


68  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

as  the  character  of  an  act  derives  all  its  moral  great- 
ness, not  from  the  sphere  of  the  actor,  but  from  its 
conformity  to  the  will  of  God. 

Do  you  perceive  the  bearing  of  my  illustration 
upon  the  question  of  woman's  sphere  ?  It  shows  you 
that  your  sex  is  not  necessarily  inferior  to  the  other, 
because  it  is  called,  by  God  and  nature,  to  act  in  a 
different  sphere.  Your  exclusion  from  the  stage  of 
public  life  does  not  imply  your  inferiority,  —  only  the 
diversity  of  your  powers,  functions  and  duties.  In- 
deed, it  would  defy  the  loftiest  powers  to  show 
wherein  the  work,  the  mission  or  the  sphere  of 
woman,  is  a  whit  beneath  that  of  her  more  bustling 
and  prominent  companion  —  man*. 

What  is  the  sphere  of  woman  ?  Home.  The 
social  circle.  What  is  her  mission  ?  To  mould 
character,  —  to  fashion  herself  and  others  after  the 
model  character  of  Christ.  What  are  her  chief 
instruments  for  the  accomplishment  of  her  great 
work?  The  affections.  Love  is  the  wand  by  which 
she  is  to  work  moral  transformations  within  her  fairy 
circle.     Gentleness,  sweetness,  loveliness  and  purity 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  89 

are  the  elements  of  her  power.  Her  place  is  not  on 
life's  great  battle-fields.  Man  belongs  there.  It  is 
for  him  to  go  forth  armed  for  its  conflicts  and  strug- 
gles, to  do  fierce  battle  with  the  hosts  of  evils  that 
throng  our  earth  and  trample  upon  its  blessings. 
But  woman  must  abide  in  the  peaceful  sanctuaries 
of  home,  and  walk  in  the  noiseless  vales  of  private 
life.  There  she  must  dwell,  beside  the  secret  springs 
of  public  virtue.  There  she  must  smile  upon  the 
father,  the  brother,  the  husband,  when,  returning  like 
warriors  from  the  fight,  exhausted  and  covered  with 
the  dust  of  strife,  they  need  to  be  refreshed  by  sweet 
waters  drawn  "  from  affection's  spring,"  and  cheered 
to  renewed  struggles  by  the  music  of  her  voice, 
There  she  must  rear  the  Christian  patriot  and  states- 
man, the  self-denying  philanthropist  and  the  obedient 
citizen.  There,  in  a  word,  she  must  form  the  char- 
acter of  the  world,  and  determine  the  destiny  of  her 
race.  How  awful  is  her  mission  !  What  dread  re- 
sponsibility attaches  to  her  work !  Surely  she  is  not 
degraded  by  filling  such  a  sphere.  Nor  would  she 
be  elevated,  if,  forsaking  it,  she  should  go  forth  into 


90        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

the  highways  of  society,  and  jostle  with  her  brothers 
for  the  offices  and  honors  of  public  life.  Fame  she 
might  occasionally  gain,  but  it  would  be  at  the  price 
of  her  wTomanly  influence. 

Fancy  yourself  far  out  at  sea,  in  a  noble  ship,  con- 
tending with  a  furious  storm.  A  "war  of  moun- 
tains "  rages  on  the  surface  of  the  great  deep,* — they 
seem  "  to  swallow  each  other,"  and  to  "  reproduce 
new  Alps  and  Andes  from  their  monstrous  depths," 
to  keep  up  the  strife. 

"  Beneath  is  one  wild  whirl  of  foaming  surges  ; 
Above,  the  array  of  lightnings,  like  the  swords 
Of  Cherubim,  wide  brandished,  to  repel 
Aggression  from  heaven's  gates." 

Behold,  amidst  this  scene  of  grandeur,  the  stormy 
petrel  gliding  up  the  face  of  a  huge  wave,  darting 
above  the  foam  of  a  breaker,  or  sweeping  along  the 
watery  valleys,  as  composedly  and  as  naturally  as  it 
ever  swept  over  the  same  sea  in  an  hour  of  calm. 
Behold,  too,  another  bird,  whirling  and  darting  above 
the  spray,  with  a  cry  of  seeming  despair ;  now  flying 
before  a  monster  sea,  and  anon  struggling  to  keep  its 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF  WOMAN.  91 

wet  and  weary  wings  from  folding  into  helpless 
inaction.  But  see !  it  descries  your  ship,  and, 
prompted  by  an  instinct  of  self-preservation,  flies 
toward  it  for  shelter.  Alighting,  it  hides  under  the 
lee  of  your  bulwarks,  in  a  coil  of  cable.  Mark  its 
exhaustion !  See  how  its  wet  breast  heaves  with  the 
violent  beating  of  its  little  heart !  Its  fright  is  ex- 
cessive, and  it  is  questionable  if  it  will  recover  itself 
or  live. 

Tell  me,  lady,  why  this  little  trembler  is  in  so 
pitiful  a  plight,  while  the  stormy  petrel  gambols 
freely  among  the  waves !  You  cannot  answer. 
Then  listen !  The  petrel  is  in  its  appropriate  sphere. 
The  little  trembler  is  a  land-bird,  tempted,  at  first,  by 
sunny  weather,  to  wander  among  the  islands,  and 
driven,  at  last,  by  a  strong  wind  to  sea.  He  is  out  of 
his  sphere;  and  hence  his  quiet  has  fled,  his  song  is 
silenced  and  his  life  endangered.  God  made  him 
for  the  land ;  the  grove  is  his  home,  and  his  sphere 
is  among  the  flowers. 

It  is  thus  with  the  entire  creation.  Everything 
has  its  appointed  sphere,  within  which  alone  it  can 


92        THE  YOUNG  LADY  *S  COUNSELLOR. 

flourish.  Men  and  women  have  theirs.  They  are 
not  exceptions  to  this  truth,  but  examples  of  it.  To 
be  happy  and  prosperous,  they  must  abide  in  them. 
Man  is  fitted  for  the  storms  of  public  life,  and,  .Lee 
the  petrel,  can  be  happy  amidst  their  rudest  surges. 
Woman  is  formed  for  the  calm  of  home.  She  may 
venture,  like  the  land-bird,  to  invade  the  sphere  of 
man,  but  she  will  encounter  storms  which  she  is 
utterly  unfitted  to  meet ;  happiness  will  forsake  her 
breast,  her  own  sex  will  despise  her,  men  will  be  un- 
able to  love  her,  and  when  she  dies  she  will  fill  an 
unhonored  grave. 

That  great  patriot,  John  Adams,  paid  a  high  com- 
pliment to  the  power  of  your  sex,  when,  in  an  hour 
of  deep  political  gloom,  he  wrote  the  following  lines 
to  his  wife.  Alluding  to  the  attack  of  the  British 
on  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  he  says  :  "  I  believe  the 
two  Howes  have  not  very  great  women  for  their 
wives  ;  if  they  had,  we  should  suffer  more  from  their 
exertions  than  we  do.  A  smart  wife  would  have 
put  Howe  in  possession  of  Philadelphia  a  long  time 
ago." 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  93 

This  remark  of  the  statesman,  playfully  as  it  is 
expressed,  was,  nevertheless,  the  offspring  of  an 
opinion  which  he  seriously  maintained  concerning 
the  influence  of  women.  He  contended  that  much 
of  the  merit  of  the  great  men,  whose  names  are  on 
the  roll  of  fame,  belonged  to  their  sisters,  wives  and 
mothers.  Hence  he  attributed  the  faults  of  Howe  to 
the  lack  of  high  merit  in  his  wife. 

John  Quincy  Adams,  the  "old  man  eloquent," 
once  paid  the  following  precious  tribute  to  his 
mother.  "It  is  due  to  gratitude  and  nature,  that  1 
should  acknowledge  and  avow  that,  such  as  I  have 
been,  whatever  it  was,  such  as  I  am,  whatever  it  is, 
and  such  as  I  hope  to  be  in  all  futurity,  must  be 
ascribed,  under  Providence,  to  the  precepts  and  ex- 
ample of  my  mother." 

Very  similar  is  the  confession  of  the  celebrated 
German  philosopher,  Kant,  who  says,  "  I  shall  never 
forget  that  it  was  my  mother  who  caused  the  good 
which  is  in  my  soul  to  fructify  * 

It  was  to  his  devoted  sister  that  the  pious  Pascal 
was  indebted  for  preservation  from  a  worldly  spirit, 


94        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSEILOR. 

which  at  one  time  threatened  to  drag  him  down  from 
the  heights  of  a  holy  experience  to  the  depths  of  sin 
But  for  her,  his  light  might  have  been  quenched  for- 
ever. 

The  martyr  missionary,  Martyn,  was  also  led  to 
Christ  by  the  gentle  hand  of  his  sister,  who  thus 
called  into  action  those  mighty  energies  in  his  soul 
which  made  his  life  an  example  of  self-denying 
labor. 

I  quote  these  honorable  acknowledgments  from 
these  great  minds  to  confirm  the  opinion  of  John 
Adams,  and  to  impress  it  forcibly  upon  your  heart. 
You  must  consider  them  as  specimen  facts.  Could 
every  great  and  good  man  arise  from  the  dead,  to 
make  known  from  whence  the  power  came  which 
called  his  noblest  qualities  into  action,  each  would 
point  to  a  sister,  wife  or  mother.  What  can  ambi- 
tion in  a  woman's  heart  ask  more  ?  What  if  she  is 
forbidden  to  stand  in  the  forum,  to  mount  the  ros- 
trum, to  enact  the  part  of  a  Cicero,  a  Washington,  a 
Wesley?  Has  she  therefore  nothing  great  in  her  des- 
tiny ?    Is  it  nothing  to  sit  beside  young,  unformed 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  95 

intellect,  and,  by  the  skilful  strokes  of  her  chisel,  give 
it  such  shape  and  beauty  as  shall  command  the 
admiration  of  a  world  ?  Is  that  gift  to  be  despised 
which  enables  a  woman,  with  almost  unerring  cer- 
tainty, to  determine  the  character  of  her  brother,  hus- 
band or  son  ?  Nay !  She  who  trains  a  soul  to 
right  and  noble  deeds  "  stands  higher  in  the  scale 
of  benefactors  than  he  who  unshackles  a  continent 
from  thraldom ;  for  she  adds  more  to  the  sum  of 
human  happiness,  if  we  estimate  the  effects  by  their 
duration."  ^ 

Nor  are  the  pleasures  of  success  less  delightful  in 
a  woman's  breast,  because  she  attains  it  through  an- 
other. If  a  rich  tide  of  joy  flows  through  the  breast 
of  an  applauJed  hero,  a  triumphant  statesman  or  a 
useful  philanthropist,  there  is  another  equally  de- 
lightful in  the  bosom  of  the  woman  who  is  conscious 
that,  but  for  her,  the  great  man  would  never  have 
mounted  the  pedestal  of  his  greatness. 

Behold,  for  an  example,  a  splendid  scene  enacted 
at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  war.     CoRNWAixig 

*See  Chalmers1  Memoirs,  v  I.  i.,  p,  246. 


96        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

and  his  army  had  been  captured.  The  Revolution 
was  successful.  The  great  chiefs  and  officers  of  the 
victorious  armies  were  assembled  at  a  festival  in 
honor  of  their  victory.  The  spacious  saloon  was 
crowded.  There  were  those  chivalrous  Frenchmen, 
in  their  gorgeous  uniforms,  who,  at  the  cry  of  liberty, 
had  bravely  rushed  to  arms,  and  wliose  valor  had 
been  proved  in  many  a  hard-fought  field.  There 
were  those  sturdy  continentals,  whose  daring  cour- 
age and  unconquerable  spirit  had  triumphed  over 
the  disciplined  bravery  of  their  English  opponents. 
There,  also,  were  the  women,  the  matrons  of  that 
heroic  age,  with  their  blushing  daughters,  all  radiant 
with  the  sunny  spirit  of  joy  which  reigned  through- 
out that  brilliant  assembly. 

Presently  the  doors  of  the  saloon  open  to  admit  a 
personage,  whose  entrance  awakens  universal  atten- 
tion. His  figure  is  noble  and  commanding;  his  bear- 
ing dignified,  without  haughtiness ;  his  expression 
lofty,  but  mild.  He  treads  the  floor  with  unaffected, 
yet  unsurpassed  majesty.  His  presence  kindles  every 
eye  and  heart  with  the  ardor  of  rapturous  enthusiasm 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF    WOMAN.  .    97 

He  is  regarded  with  reverence,  yet  with  affection,  — 
as  a  superior,  and  yet  as  a  friend.  He  presents  to 
their  gaze  the  rare  sight  of  a  Christian  soldier  and 
an  unambitious  statesman.  He  combines  in  himself 
the  daring  of  a  Csesar  with  the  caution  of  a  Fabius, 
—  the  patriotism  of  a  Eegulus  and  the  virtue  of  a 
Cincinnatus.  He  is  the  man  whose  enduring  forti- 
tude, military  prowess,  and  overawing  influence,  had 
sustained  the  spirit  of  the  Revolution,  crowned  it  with 
success,  and  earned  for  himself  the  glorious  preemi- 
nence of  being  the  "  first  in  war,  first  in  peace,  and 
first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen,"  —  for  that  per- 
sonage was  George  Washington  ! 

Never,  perhaps,  was  homage  more  sincerely  or 
heartily  rendered  to  a  man  than  by  the  brave  and 
beautiful  in  that  hall;  and  never  was  it  more  de- 
served. Nor  is  it  possible  to  conceive  of  a  purer, 
sweeter  human  joy,  than  that  which  swelled  his 
bosom. 

There  was  another  heart,  however,  that  shared  in 
the  homage  and  the  joy  of  that  occasion.  Leaning 
.on  the  arm  of  the  hero,  in  simple  stateliness  of  mien, 


98        THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

there  walked  Mary,  the  Mother  of  Washington. 
She  had  trained  him  in  his  boyhood,  —  taught  him 
the  principles  and  developed  the  qualities  which  lay 
at  the  foundation  of  his  greatness.  It  was  her  hands 
which  had  moulded  his  character  to  symmetry  and 
moral  beauty.  Her  prayers,  her  influence,  and 
her  instructions,  had  repressed  and  restrained  the 
growth  of  evil  qualities,  and  cultivated  that  divine 
life  in  his  soul,  which  led  him  to  take  counsel  of  the 
God  of  battles  —  the  Governor  of  nations.  Her 
early  influence  over  her  glorious  son  was  well  under- 
stood, and  silently  acknowledged,  in  that  gay  assem- 
bly. Yea,  her  son  had  owned  it,  —  was  proud  of  it. 
He  laid  his  lofty  honors  at  her  feet,  and  prized  her 
smile  above  the  noisy  voices  of  fame.  Did  she  then 
experience  a  pleasure  aught  inferior  to  his  ?  Who 
shall  decide  which  bosom  was  the  happiest  on  that 
triumphant  day  ?  The  joy  of  Washington  was 
great ;  the  joy  of  his  mother  was,  at  least,  equal. 
Would  she  have  accomplished  more,  or  tasted  a 
sweeter  pleasure,  if,  forsaking  her  sphere,  she  had 
mingled  directly  in  the  councils  of  the  states  and  the 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  99 

movements  of  the  camp  ?  Impossible  !  She  helped 
to  achieve  the  Revolution,  —  she  shared  the  richest 
enjoyments  of  its  success  ;  but  she  did  it  through  her 
heroic  son,  —  just  as  God  would  have  every  woman 
win  her  honors  and  rewards,  through  her  brother, 
husband  or  child. 

Away,  then,  from  your  heart,  young  lady,  with  all 
the  vagaries  of  these  pseudo  reformers !  Treat  their 
crude  opinions  with  the  contempt  they  deserve. 
Glory  in  the  true  greatness  and  real  sublimity  of  the 
sphere  you  are  called  to  fill.  Labor  to  qualify  your- 
self to  fulfil  your  mission  with  distinguished  success. 
Obtain,  by  persevering  self-culture,  those  high  quali- 
ties which  lift  one  mind  above  another.  For  you 
must  not  fail  to  remember,  that  you  cannot  commu- 
nicate high  qualities  and  noble  sentiments  to  other 
minds,  unless  they  first  exist  in  your  own.  Culti- 
vate, therefore,  the  loftiest  virtues,  the  highest  ele- 
ments of  great  character.  Let  them  be  chastened  in 
yourself  by  that  sweet  sunniness  of  spirit,  and  that 
affectionate  gentleness,  which  command  the  avenues 
of  the  human  heart.     Thus  will   you   secure  both 


lOO       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

respect  and  love.  You  will  impress  your  image  ort 
some  precious  masculine  mind  in  whom  it  shall  go 
forth  upon  the  great  theatre  of  life,  to  act  with  bless- 
ing and  power  upon  future  generations. 

Such  being  your  sphere,  with  its  weighty  respons- 
ibility, you  require  the  aids  of  religion  to  fill  it  with 
propriety  and  effect.  High  qualities  are  not  the  off- 
spring of  an  ungracious  nature.  There  is  too  much 
of  the  moral  weakness  of  depravity  in  the  human 
soul,  to  permit  its  harmonious  and  useful  develop- 
ment, without  the  restraints  and  aids  of  grace 
Where  the  spirit  of  revealed  religion  does  not  reign, 
there  will  be  moral  deformity.  Selfishness  with  its 
forbidding  aspect,  pride,  envy,  hate,  discontent,  fret- 
fulness,  ill- temper,  and  troops  of  kindred  vices,  will 
wound  and  sear  your  character,  diminish  your  influ- 
ence, and  disturb  your  peace.  But,  by  surrendering 
yourself  to  the  claims  and  influences  of  the  Saviour, 
your  life  will  be  as  a  fruitful  branch  in  a  beautiful 
vine.  The  fruits  of  the  Spirit  will  adorn  it.  Clus- 
ters of  graces,  such  as  love,  joy,  peace,  gentleness, 
goodness  and  meekness,  will  give  it  attractiveness. 


THE    TRUE    SPHERE    OF   WOMAN.  101 

its  beauty  will  impress  the  minds  around  you,  and 
ict  as  a  mighty  restraint  from  sin  upon  them,  as 
they  wander  over  the  earth.  Your  image  will  stand 
before  a  brother,  a  husband  or  a  father,  as  a  good 
genius  in  his  hour  of  temptation,  and  forbid  the  tri- 
umph of  the  tempter.  For,  calling  up  your  charac- 
ter, his  full  heart  will  exclaim  of  you, 

,{ She  looks  as  whole  as  some  serene 
Creation  minted  in  the  golden  moods 
Of  sovereign  artists  ;  not  a  thought,  a  touch, 
But  pure  as  lines  of  green  that  streak  the  white 
Of  the  first  snow-drop's  inner  leaves." 

To  impress  such  an  image  of  yourself  upon  some 
loved  mind  within  your  circle,  is  worth  a  lifetime  of 
effort.  And  you  have  no  effectual  means  of  accom- 
plishing so  noble  a  task,  but  by  communing  deeply 
with  the  spirit  of  Jesus.  Resolve,  therefore,  to  live  at 
his  footstool,  and  he  will  inspire  you  with  every  high 
and  holy  quality  necessary  to  enable  you  to  fulfil 
your  earthly  mission. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

LOVELINESS  OF  SPIRIT. 


HE  author  of  "  The  New  Timon," 
describing  the  character  of  a  young 
heroine,  who  won  all  hearts  to 
herself,  thus  explains  the  philoso- 
phy of  her  influence : 


It  was  not  mirth,  for  mirth  she  was  too  still ; 

It  was  not  wit,  wit  leaves  the  heart  more 
chill ; 

But  that  continuous  sweetness,  which,  with 
ease, 

Pleases  all  round  it,  from  the  wish  to  please. 

This  was  the  charm  that  Lucy's  smile  be- 
stowed ; 

The  wave's  fresh  ripple  from  deep  fountains 
flowed ; 

Below,  exhaustless  gratitude,  —  above, 

Woman's  meek  temper  childhood's  ready 
love." 


LOVELINESS   OF   SPIRIT.  103 

Here  the  poet  places  an  abiding  sweetness  of 
spirit,  a  meek  loveliness  of  temper,  as  the  central 
star  in  a  constellation  of  virtues  which  adorn  his 
ideal  woman.  The  inspired  writer  expressed  the 
same  high  estimate  of  a  kind  and  loving  spirit,  when 
he  drew  his  admirable  picture  of  a  "virtuous  wo- 
man" whose  "price  is  far  above  rubies."  Of  her  he 
says,  "  She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom ,  and  in 
her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness." 

This  loveliness  of  spirit  is  woman's  sceptre  and 
sword,  for  it  is  both  the  emblem  and  the  instrument 
of  her  conquests.  Her  influence  flows  from  her  sens- 
ibilities, her  gentleness,  her  tenderness.  It  is  this 
which  disarms  prejudice,  and  awakens  confidence 
and  affection  in  all  who  come  within  her  sphere; 
which  makes  her  more  powerful  to  accomplish  what 
her  will  resolves  than  if  nature  had  endowed  her 
with  the  strength  of  a  giant.  For,  while  the  will  of 
a  pigmy  may  resist,  to  his  destruction,  the  commands 
of  a  Cyclops, 

"  The  heart  must 
Leap  kindly  back  to  kindness." 


104       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Speaking  of  this  power,  an  elegant  writer  says . 
"  If  there  is  such  a  native  loveliness  in  the  sex  as  to 
make  a  woman  victorious  when  in  the  wrong,  how 
resistless  her  pewer  when  she  is  on  the  side  of 
truth!"  And  even  the  ancient  bard  of  Erin,  Ossian, 
sung  the  same  idea,  in  the  days  of  old.  Describing 
a  maiden  heroine,  he  says  :  "  Loveliness,  with  a  robe 
of  beams,  clothed  the  maid  of  Lutha,  the  daughter 
of  many  isles." 

I  would  not  have  you  imagine,  young  lady,  that 
loveliness  of  spirit  alone  is  a  source  of  high  and 
abiding  influence,  nor  that  other  great  qualities 
may  be  dispensed  with,  if  this  one  is  obtained.  So 
far  is  this  from  the  truth,  that  this  quality  is  depend- 
ent upon  the  existence  of  the  most  exalted  moral 
excellences.  Nature  may  have  endowed  you  with 
exquisite  sensibility,  with  a  highly  refined  and  deli- 
cate physical  organization,  which  may  give  you  the 
appearance  of  being  lovely,  and  enable  you  to  make 
a  favorable  impression,  and  to  exert  an  irresistible 
power  over  the  mind  you  aim  to  fascinate.  But,  if 
your  heart  is  lacking  in  high-minded  self-devotion,  in 


LOVELINESS    OF   SPIRIT.  105 

self-control,  in  sincerity,  in  genuine  meekness,  your 
loveliness,  like  a  coating  of  gold  upon  a  counterfeit 
coin,  will  disappear  before  all  who  behold  you  in 
contact  with  the  realities  of  life.  Genuine  loveliness 
is  the  effulgence  of  sublime  virtue ;  it  is  a  soft  and 
mellow  light,  diffusing  a  delicious  radiance  over  the 
entire  character,  and  investing  its  possessor  with  a 
halo  of  indefinable  beauty.  It  is  the  "  fresh  ripple 
from  deep  fountains  "  of  inborn  love.  It  is  the  gentle 
dew  descending  from  the  clear  heaven  of  a  pure 
and  lofty  mind  —  the  mystic  charm  that  "  pleases  all 
around,  from  the  wish  to  please." 

Permit  me  to  lead  you  to  what  may  appear  an 
unlikely  spot  to  learn  much  of  the  power  of  loveli- 
ness —  to  the  cell  of  a  maniac.  Behold  his  furious 
ravings  at  our  approach  !  Mark  his  wild  and  terri- 
fying expression  !  How  fearful  a  thing  is  madness  ! 
But  see  !  Here  is  a  beautiful  child,  just  able  to  talk. 
She  holds  a  rosy  apple  in  her  tiny  fingers,  and  with 
timid  steps  is  approaching  the  grating  of  the  cell. 
Placing  the  apple  between  two  bars,  she  addresses 
the  maniac  in  the  soft  and  musical  voice  of  child- 


106       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

hood,   saying,    "  Sir,   will  you    please   to*  take   an 
apple?" 

He  gazes  at  the  child  a  moment  in  stupid  wonder, 
and  then  retires  raving  to  the  corner  of  his  cell.  Let 
a  day  pass,  in  your  imagination.  Again  the  little 
girl  comes  toddling  towards  the  cell,  and  repeats  her 
offer  of  love.  In  vain,  as  yet,  is  her  appeal.  An- 
other and  another  day  passes,  with  the  same  offer 
and  the  same  result.  Unwearied  the  little  one 
stands,  an  angel  of  love,  in  the  madman's  presence, 
warbling  forth  her  offer  of  "  Sir,  will  you  take  an 
apple  ? "  The  eyes  of  the  maniac  rest  a  moment 
upon  those  of  the  child  ;  they  are  full  of  the  expres- 
sion of  love.  He  is  attracted.  Her  sweet  voice 
renews  the  request,  "  Will  you  take  an  apple,  sir  ? " 
He  is  fascinated.  She  smiles.  He  is  subdued. 
He  accepts  the  fruit,  and  eats  it.  The  keeper  now 
opens  the  door  of  his  cell.  The  little  girl  takes  him 
by  the  hand,  leads  him  forth  docile  as  a  lamb,  and 
presents  us  with  a  lovely  picture  of  madness  con- 
quered by  the  persevering  kindness  and  loveliness  of 
a  gentle  girl. 


LOVELINESS    OF    SPIRIT.  107 

From  this  life-painting  let  us  turn  to  another 
equally  affecting  and  instructive.  It  contains  a  ven- 
erable old  English  market,  with  its  busy  crowds  of 
buyers  and  sellers.  Beneath  its  shadow,  and  near 
one  of  its  corners,  is  a  humble  stall,  in  which  stands 
.  a  poor  woman,  rough  in  her  exterior,  but  very  benev- 
olent in  her  looks.  Her  mind  seems  divided  be- 
tween the  care  of  her  stall  and  of  an  idiot  boy,  who 
sits  on  the  ground  near  by,  swinging  backwards  and 
forwards,  and  singing,  in  a  low,  pathetic  voice,  an 
unmeaning  strain.  The  poor  creature  is  thoroughly 
demented.  He  knows  nothing,  and  he  spends  all  his 
time  seated  as  we  behold  him.  His  mother's  love  is 
the  only  ray  that  penetrates  the  chambers  of  his 
darkened  mind. 

One  day  the  neighbors  missed  this  old  market- 
woman  and  her  idiot  son  from  their  accustomed 
places.  Seeking  her  humble  hovel,  they  found  her 
lying  dead  upon  her  comfortless  couch,  with  the  boy 
seated  beside  the  corpse,  holding  her  cold  hand  in 
his,  and  mournfully  singing  his  accustomed  strain. 
They  spoke  kindly  to  him.     He  looked  at  then  witn 


108       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

a  tear  standing  in  his  eye,  and  then,  clasping  the 
dead  hand  with  increased  tenderness,  resumed  his 
unmeaning  song,  but  in  a  softer  and  sadder  key. 

"  Poor  wretch  !  what  shall  we  do  with  him  ? "  in- 
quired the  visiters.  As  they  stood  gazing  on  the 
melancholy  spectacle,  the  boy  gathered  the  dust  from 
the  floor  in  his  two  hands,  sprinkled  it  upon  his  head 
and  broke  forth,  with  a  wild,  clear,  heart-searching 
pathos,  into  his  monotonous  song.  Thus  afTectingly 
did  this  idiot  lad  proclaim  the  depth  of  the  impres- 
sion made  upon  his  spirit  by  the  continuous  kindness 
of  his  mother,  years  of  whose  life  had  been  wearily 
spent  in  self-devoted  care  for  her  child.  The  loveli- 
ness of  a  mother's  devotedness  had  penetrated  the 
soul  of  an  idiot. 

I  have  yet  another  illustrative  sketch,  by  which  to 
impress  your  heart  with  a  conviction  that  the  power 
of  a  kind  and  lovely  spirit  is  almost  irresistible. 
The  scene  is  from  one  of  those  sad  and  dreary 
events  so  plentiful  in  the  French  Revolution. 
Among  the  prisoners  in  the  Abbey  was  the  venera- 
ble  Cazotte  and  his  lovely  daughter   Elizabeth, 


LOVELINESS    OF    SPIRIT.  109 

Finding  no  proofs  of  royalism  against  the  daughter, 
the  revolutionary  leaders  sent  an  order  for  her  dis- 
missal from  the  prison.  Her  filial  heart  refused  the 
gift  of  liberty,  and,  at  the  cost  of  much  personal  suf- 
fering, she  clung  to  her  noble  father's  side  in  prison. 
Her  generous  self-devotion,  her  virtuous  deportment, 
and  the  entire  loveliness  of  her  spirit,  wrought  won- 
derfully on  all  within  the  prison.  Even  those  mur- 
derous Marseillois,  whose  hearts  were  harder  than 
the  steel  of  their  swords,  acknowledged  her  power, 
and  protected  the  person  of  her  father  for  her  sake. 
But,  on  the  terrible  second  of  September,  1792,  after 
a  carnage  of  thirty  hours  in  the  court  of  the  Abbey, 
Cazotte  was  summoned  to  meet  death.  "  Why 
vvere  you  imprisoned  ? "  demanded  one  of  these  mur- 
derers. 

"  You  will  find  the  answer  in  the  jailer's  book  !  " 
was  the  old  man's  stern  reply. 

An  axe  was  already  uplifted.  The  blood-stained 
hands  vvere  outstretched  to  pierce  his  aged  breast. 
His  daughter  rushed  wildly  through  the  crowd, 
threw  herself  on  the  old  man's  neck,  and  presenting 


110  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

her  bosom  to  the  swords  of  the  assassins,  exclaimed, 
"  Strike,  barbarians  !  You  shall  not  get  at  my 
father  until  you  have  pierced  my  heart !  " 

The  effect  of  this  act  was  irresistible.  The  pikes 
were  checked.  The  hands  of  the  murderers  were 
paralyzed.  The  mob  was  overawed.  A  voice 
shouted  "  Pardon !  "  "  Pardon  !  pardon !  "  replied  a 
thousand  voices,  and  the  beautiful  Elizabeth,  ren- 
dered doubly  beautiful  by  her  agitation,  and  de- 
fended by  a  band  of  Marseillois,  led  her  father  forth 
from  that  scene  of  blood,  amidst  the  thunders  of  their 
applause,  to  liberty  and  home.  An  example  of  the 
power  of  self-devoted  loveliness  of  character  over  the 
fiercest  minds. 

These  illustrations  of  the  power  of  a  kind  and 
lovely  spirit  are,  I  admit,  extreme  cases.  I  have 
chosen  such  examples  in  preference  to  others,  be- 
cause they  best  subserve  my  purpose.  For  if  kind- 
ness has  power  over  a  maniac,  an  idiot,  an  assassin, 
it  must  be  sufficient  to  subdue  minds  that  are  more 
accessible  to  influence.  If  love  in  the  heart  and 
sweetness  in  the  manner  of  the  gentle  girl  could  sub- 


LOVELINESS   OF    SPIRIT.  Ill 

due  a  raving  maniac,  —  if  in  the  market-woman  it 
could  awaken  affection  in  an  idiot's  breast,  —  if  in 
Elizabeth  it  could  charm  the  minds  and  change  the 
purpose  of  murderers,  —  surely,  in  your  hands,  it  is 
capable  of  doing  much  with  the  almost  infinitely 
more  susceptible  minds  that  move  within  your 
sphere.  Possess  it,  and  you  may  bind  the  soul  of 
your  brother,  in  bonds  softer  than  velvet  and  stronger 
than  gyves  of  brass,  to  religion  and  virtue.  You 
may  awaken  the  mind  of  your  scholars  to  noble  aspi- 
rations after  excellency  on  earth  and  glory  in  heaven. 
You  may  sustain  the  spirit  of  your  father,  and  save 
him  from  yielding  to  despair  in  an  hour  of  tempta- 
tion. You  may  mould  the  destiny  of  your  husband, 
and  breathe  the  air  of  Paradise  around  his  tried 
spirit,  until  he  shall  acknowledge  you  to  be  the  good 
genius  of  his  existence.  You  may  train  your  chil- 
dren, if  you  ever  become  a  mother,  so  that,  as  Cor- 
nelia found  her  highest  honor  in  being  the  Mother 
of  the  Gracchi,  it  may  be  the  richest  thought  of 
your  life  that  you  are  the  mother  of  patriot,  philan- 
thropic and  Christian  children,  and  that  through  the 


112       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

deeds  of  brother,  father,  husband  or  son,  your  name 
is  to  be  writ  in  the  affections  of  posterity.  Seek, 
therefore,  and  seek  earnestly,  after  a  lovely  spirit ! 
fFind  it,  and  you  will  be  enthroned  queen  of  the 
sphere  in  which  you  move. 

The  citizens  of  ancient  Home  were  accustomed  to 
place  the  images  of  their  great  ancestors  in  the  vesti- 
bules of  their  houses.  These  venerable  busts  con- 
stantly met  their  eyes,  and  reminded  them  of  the 
glorious  actions  of  the  dead.  They  were  thus 
prompted  to  imitate  the  heroic  examples  of  their 
illustrious  fathers,  and  to  transmit  a  worthy  name  to 
posterity.  The  idea  was  certainly  a  noble  one,  and 
was,  to  some  extent,  successful.  It  created  a  pride 
of  character,  which  led  to  noble  deeds,  in  a  long  line 
of  glorious  Romans,  through  many  ages  of  that 
gigantic  commonwealth. 

This  fact  recognizes  a  great  truth,  which  has  an 
important  bearing  on  the  subject  of  power  over  other 
minds.  It  teaches  the  depth  and  practical  results  of 
oft-repeated  impressions.  Those  marble  busts,  cold 
and  lifeless  as  they  were,  repeated  their  silent  ies- 


LOVELINESS    OF    SPIRIT.  113 

sons  of  virtuous  heroism  every  day.  They  con- 
stantly reminded  the  young  Roman  of  the  glory  that 
gathers  round  the  name  of  him  who  forms  a  high 
character,  and  lives  for  noble  aims.  The  idea 
entered  his  heart.  He  mused  upon  it  until  he  did 
reverence  to  the  virtues  of  the  ancients,  and  resolved 
to  tread  in  their  consecrated  steps. 

It  is  by  a  corresponding  process  that  a  spirit  of 
meek  loveliness  in  a  woman  achieves  its  ends.  Its 
abiding  presence,  its  constant  exhibition  in  the  thou- 
sand daily  acts  of  her  life,  in  the  tones  of  her  voice, 
and  in  the  spiritual  atmosphere  which  she  creates 
around  her,  gradually  wins  the  affections  of  the  most 
wilful  minds.  It  is  not  by  one  striking  act  of  kindness 
she  gains  her  influence,  but  from  the  impression  which 
her  daily  deportment  makes  on  her  associates.  Her 
presence  is  a  beam  of  light,  gladdening  the  family 
circle,  and  its  members  soon  learn  to  rejoice  at  her 
presence,  to  feel  charmed  by  her  character.  She 
breathes  words  of  kindness  in  every  ear,  her  eyes 
beam  with  the  light  of  love  upon  all,  her  feet  hasten 
to  assist  all.  There  is  a  noble  unselfishness  in  her 
8 


114  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

actions,  a  benevolent  devotion  to  the  interests  and 
pleasure  of  others,  which  throws  a  spell  of  enchant- 
ment over  them.  In  her  the  song  of  the  poet  is 
realized : 

r<  Love  took  up  the  harp«of  life,  and  smote  on  all  the  chords 

with  might, 
Smote  the  chord  of  self,  that,  trembling,  passed  in  music  out 

of  sight." 

The  celebrated  William  Wirt,  in  a  letter  to  his 
daughter,  discourses  on  the  power  of  this  unselfish 
loveliness  in  woman,  in  the  following  sensible  man- 
ner. He  says,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  a  secret.  The 
whole  world  is  like  the  miller  at  Mansfield ;  he 
cared  for  nobody,  —  no,  not  he,  —  because  nobody 
cared  for  him.  And  the  whole  world  will  serve  you 
so,  if  you  give  them  the  same  cause.  Let  every  one, 
therefore,  see  that  you  do  care  for  them,  by  showing 
them  what  Sterne  so  happily  calls  '  the  small  sweet 
courtesies  of  life,'  in  which  there  is  no  parade ; 
whose  voice  is  too  still  to  tease,  and  which  manifest 
themselves  by  tender  and  affectionate  looks  and  little 
acts  of  attention  —  giving  others  the  preference  in 


LOVELINESS    OF    SPIRIT.  115 

every  little  enjoyment  at  the  table,  in  the  field,  walk- 
ing, sitting  or  standing.  This  is  the  spirit  that  gives 
your  sex  its  sweetest  charm.  It  constitutes  the  sum 
total  of  the  witchcraft  of  woman.  Let  the  world  see 
that  your  first  care  is  for  yourself,  and  you  will 
spread  the  solitude  of  the  upas-tree  around  you,  in 
the  same  way,  by  the  emanation  of  a  poison  which 
kills  all  the  juices  of  .affection  in  its  neighborhood. 
Such  a  girl  may  be  admired  for  her  understanding 
and  accomplishments,  but  she  will  never  be  beloved. 

"  The  seeds  of  love  can  never  grow  but  under  the 
warm  and  genial  influence  of  kind  feelings  and  affec- 
tionate manners.  Vivacity  goes  a  great  way  in 
young  persons.  It  calls  attention  to  her  who  dis- 
plays it.  If  it  then  be  found  associated  with  a  gen- 
erous sensibility,  its  execution  is  irresistible.  On 
the  contrary,  if  it  be  found  in  alliance  with  a  cold, 
haughty,  selfish  heart,  it  produces  no  other  effect 
than  an  adverse  one." 

I  remember  a  young  lady,  Annette  by  name,  who 
was  remarkably  beautiful  and  extremely  vivacious. 
These   qualities   attracted  a  splendid   young  man, 


116  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

named  Frederick,  to  her  side.  Annette  seemed  so 
cheerful,  so  pleasant  and  so  agreeable,  that  the  youth 
was  fascinated.  He  became  first  her  daily  compan- 
ion, and,  shortly  after,  her  accepted  lover.  They 
appeared  as  if  nature  designed  them  for  each  other ; 
and,  in  the  beautiful  language  of  Tennyson,  it 

{c  Nor  stranger  seemed  that  hearts 
So  gentle,  so  employed,  should  close  in  love, 
Than  when  two  dew-drops  on  the  petal  shake 
To  the  same  sweet  air,  and  tremble  deeper  down, 
And  slip  at  once  all  fragrant  into  one." 

But,  alas  !  the  sweetness  of  Annette's  manners 
was  not  the  beaming  of  a  lovely  spirit.  It  was  a 
mask  worn  only  in  the  court  of  pleasure,  and  in  the 
gala  hours  of  love.  At  home,  when  unwatched  by 
all  but  the  eyes  of  her  family,  the  true  features  of 
her  really  unlovely  spirit  displayed  themselves  in  all 
their  hatefulness.  Selfish  and  proud,  she  tyrannized 
over  her  mother,  and  spread  the  infection  of  a  way- 
ward temper  over  the  entire  household.  If  she  was 
the  idol  of  the  party,  she  was  the  affliction  of  her 
home.     Alas  for  her  betrothed !  —  he  was  in  danger 


LOVELINESS    OF   SPIRIT.  117 

of  finding  tinsel,  where  he  sought  gold.  Happily  he 
one  day  made  a  call  at  an  unexpected  hour.  The 
door  was  open,  and  with  a  justifiable  familiarity  he 
entered  the  parlor.  A  shrill  voice  reached  his  ear ; 
it  was  speaking  in  angry  tones.  Could  it  be  An- 
nette's voice  ?  He  listened  with  painful  attention, 
and  heard  her,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  the  mirror 
of  all  gentleness,  scolding  her  mother  in  most  unfilial 
language,  and  in  all  the  vehemence  of  unwomanly 
passion.  He  quietly  retired,  and  from  that  hour 
Annette  had  no  lover.  She  had  deceived  him,  and 
he  felt  justified  in  shrinking  from  an  alliance  which 
would  be  sure  to  embitter  his  life. 

You  may  pronounce  this  an  unfortunate  discovery 
for  Annette.  But  would  she  have  gained  aught  for 
herself,  if,  by  blinding  Frederick,  she  had  become  his 
bride  ?  Would  not  that  unlovely  spirit  have  accom- 
panied her  to  her  bridal  home  ?  Would  it  not  have 
become  a  grim  destroyer  of  its  peace  ?  Kevealing 
itself  to  her  husband,  it  would  have  dashed  his  cup 
of  bliss  to  the  dust,  and  have  uncovered  the  decep- 
tion when  too  late  for  a  remedy.     Then  his  love 


118  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

would  have  turned  to  loathing  and  to  scorn,  and  the 
miserable  pair  would  have  spent  their  lives  in  mutual 
disgust  and  sorrow.  Annette,  though  she  had  the 
power  to  appear  lovely,  lacked  true  loveliness  of 
mind,  and  could  not  create  an  empire  of  pleasure 
without  first  remedying  so  essential  a  defect.  Re- 
member, therefore,  young  lady,  that  loveliness  must 
exist  in  the  spirit.  Outward  gentleness,  like  odor 
from  a  flower  or  music  from  a  harp,  must  proceed 
from  a  soul  made  lovely  in  itself. 

When  that  iron-minded  warrior,  Caius  Marius, 
was  taken  prisoner  in  the  marshes  of  the  Liris,  his 
captors  sent  a  Gallic  soldier  to  his  prison,  with  orders 
to  put  him  to  death.  The  captive  sat  in  the  darkest 
corner  of  his  chamber.  His  eyes  gleamed  fiercely 
on  his  executioner,  and  in  a  voice  of  thunder  he 
exclaimed,  "  Man  !  durst  thou  kill  Caius  Marius  ? " 

The  looks,  the  language,  the  voice,  the  energy  of 
Marius,  produced  so  powerful  an  impression  upon  the 
Gaul,  that  he  threw  down  his  sword  and  fled,  declar 
ing  it  was  impossible  to  kill  the  prisoner. 

Now,  of  ten  thousand  other  men,  probably  not  one  in 


LOVELINESS   OF   SPIRIT.  Ii9 

similar  circumstances  would  have  so  moved  this  fierce 
Gallic  barbarian,  even  had  he  used  the  same  words. 
Why,  then,'  did  Marius  affect  him  so  powerfully  ? 
There  was  uncommon  might  and  power  in  his  great 
spirit.  He  possessed  extraordinary  energy  of  mind, 
which,  from  a  habit  of  commanding  others,  he  had 
learned  to  throw  into  his  words  and  looks.  Thus 
his  mind  acted,  beyond  the  power  of  the  mere  words 
he  uttered,  upon  the  mind  of  the  soldier,  and  com- 
pletely paralyzed  his  action.  All  minds  possess  this 
attribute  of  expressing  their  qualities  through  words 
and  looks,  and  are  constantly  making  impressions 
upon  other  minds  thereby,  according  to  the  kind  and 
measure  of  their  power. 

This  power  of  the  mind  to  act  on  others  by  spirit- 
ual impressions  is  one  of  its  most  surprising  quali- 
tiss,  and  perhaps,  from  the  constancy  of  its  operation, 
its  chief  source  of  influence.  And  as  is  the  mind,  so 
is  the  impression  it  makes.  As  the  image  must  first 
be  in  the  die  before  it  can  impress  the  coin,  so  must 
the  impression  made  upon  other  minds  exist  first  in 
the  spirit  of  her  who  makes  it.     Hence  the  impossi- 


120       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

bility  of  simulating  a  lovely  spirit.  The  manners 
of  a  lady  may  be  polished,  her  air  soft  and  graceful, 
and  the  countenance  wreathed  in  smiles;  but  unless 
the  soul  itself  is  lovely,  the  impression  made  by  the 
character  will  be  unfavorable,  at  least,  on  those  with 
whom  she  constantly  associates.  The  mental  habit 
will  betray  itself.  If  unloving  and  unlovely,  it  will 
display  its  features,  in  spite  of  the  most  artful  precau- 
tions. If  really  lovely  in  itself,  its  beams  will  cast 
their  lustre  on  the  outward  manners,  and  thereby 
attract  other  minds,  as  surely  as  the  fierce  mental 
energy  of  Marius  conquered  the  spirit  of  the  Gallic 
soldier. 

Seek,  therefore,  young  lady,  to  adorn  yourself 
with  this  most  charming  of  all  ornaments.  Shrink 
from  every  secret  moral  deformity,  more  than  you  do 
from  physical  disfigurement.  Repress  every  inward 
movement  of  unlovely  emotions.  Regard  envy, 
pride,  hate,  revenge,  selfishness,  rage  and  kindred 
passions,  as  serpents  which  must  have  no  abode  in 
your  heart ;  or  as  poisons,  which,  if  admitted  into 
your  mental  life,  will  produce  loathsome  eruptions, 


LOVELINESS    OF    SPIRIT.  121 

disgusting  deformities  and  deadly  results  Keep  the 
chambers  of  your  soul  clean  and  unpolluted.  But 
every  pure  emotion  and  generous  sentiment  you 
must  sedulously  cultivate  and  foster,  with  persever- 
ing care.  Breathe  a  kindly  feeling  for  all.  Desire 
to  impart  a  pleasure  to  all  with  whom  you  meet. 
Live  to  scatter  flowers  of  joy  in  every  path  you 
tread,  —  to  be  a  golden  beam  of  soft  and  mellow 
light  in  every  home  you  visit.  Aim  to  move  as  a 
loving  seraph  in  every  circle.  Thus  animated  by 
inward  emotions  and  purposes,  your  outward  life  and 
actions  will  shine  with  softened  lustre  upon  all. 
You  will  sway  a  sceptre  of  hallowed  .  power  over 
many  hearts ;  and,  while  you  "  draw  to  yourself  the 
love  of  others,  as  the  diamond  drinks  up  the  sun's 
rays,  only  to  return  them  in  tenfold  strength  and 
beauty,"  you  will  put  on  charms  which  "  no  beauty 
of  known  things,  nor  imagination  of  the  unknown, 
can  aspire  to  emulate.  You  will  shine  in  colors 
purer  and  brighter  than  pearl  or  diamond  or  prism 
can  reflect.  Arabian  gardens,  in  their  bloom,  can 
exhale  no  such  sweetness  as  a  lovely  spirit  diffuses." 


122  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

A  faithful  mother  was  accustomed  to  interrogate 
her  children,  at  night,  concerning  the  good  they  had 
tried  to  do  during  the  day.  One  night  her  twin 
daughters  were  silent,  yet  seemed,  by  their  manners 
to  wish  to  say  somewhat.  By  kind  solicitation 
from  their  judicious  mother,  they  were  induced  to 
tell  their  little  tale  of  love.     One  of  them  said  : 

"  I  remember  nothing  good :  only,  when  one  of  my 
school-mates  was  happy  because  she  had  gained  the 
head  of  the  class,  I  smiled  on  her  and  ran  to  kiss 
her.     And  she  said  1  was  good." 

Her  sister  then  said :  "  A  little  girl  who  sat  next  to 
me  at  school  had  lost  her  baby  brother ;  I  saw  that 
while  she  studied  her  lesson  she  hid  her  face  in  her 
Dook  and  cried.  I  felt  sorry,  and  laid  my  face  on  the 
same  book,  and  cried  with  her.  Then  she  looked  up, 
and  was  comforted,  and  put  her  arms  round  my 
neck.  But  I  do  not  know  why  she  said  I  had  done 
her  good." 

This  is  a  picture  of  beauty  which  appeals  to  the 
heart.  I  love  those  sweet  children  though  1  never 
saw  them      Their  young  spirits  appear  to  me  as  vir- 


LOVELINESS    OF   SPIRIT.  123 

gin  founts  of  unselfish  sensibility  With  what  art- 
Jess  simplicity  they  unveil  their  souls  to  our  eyes  ! 
Their  actions  were  not  for  effect.  It  was  not  to  be 
beloved  or  praised,  that  the  one  mingled  her  tears, 
\nd  the  other  her  smiles,  with  the  tears  and  smiles 
of  their  respective  companions.  No.  The  weeping 
one  shed  tears  because  she  "  felt  sorry ; "  the  other 
smiled  because  she  felt  glad  at  her  companion's  joy. 
This  was  genuine  loveliness,  bringing  forth  one  of  its 
most  delightful  fruits,  in  that  pure  sympathy  which 
their  conduct  so  finely  exemplified. 

Let  the  rare  sympathy  of  these  lovely  children, 
also,  adorn  your  life,  young  lady.  It  is  the  natural 
and  certain  growth  of  the  sweet,  unselfish  spirit 
already  urged  upon  you.  To  "  rejoice  with  them 
that  rejoice,  and  weep  with  them  that  iceep"  is  the 
delicious  pleasure  of  a  mind  rightly  disposed  towards 
others  ;  it  is  also  the  surest  method  of  imparting  joy. 
We  are  netrer  so  precious,  in  the  eyes  of  mankind,  as 
when  we  enter  into  their  feelings.  As  saith  Schil- 
ler. 


124       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

"  How  lovely, 
How  sweet  it  is,  in  a  fair  soul,  to  feel 
Ourselves  as  holy  things  enshrined :  to  know 
Our  happiness  another  cheek  doth  kindle, 
Our  trouble  doth  another  bosom  swell, 
Our  sorrow  fill  with  tears  another's  eyes." 

On  the  contrary,  a  selfish,  unsympathetic  nature  „ 
however  it  may  triumph  over  others  by  superioi 
mental  power,  neither  imparts  nor  gains  a  pleasure. 
It  must  stand  dumb  forever  before  the  question  oi 
the  indomitable  Posa  to  the  Spanish  Philip,  whoso 
towering  spirit  aimed  to  stand  in  isolated  triumph 
above  the  rest  of  mankind : 

"  When  you  've  sunk  mankind 
To  be  your  harp-strings,  who  will  share  with  you 
The  harmony  struck  from  them?" 

I  have  now  described  and  illustrated  the  nature, 
power  and  necessity,  of  loveliness  of  spirit.  You 
clearly  see  the  nature  of  that  charm  which  consti- 
tutes the  "witchcraft  of  woman."  Suffer  me,  in  all 
the  frankness  of  friendship,  to  say,  that  this  essential 
and  wonder-working  quality  is  not  natural  to  your 
sex,  notwithstanding  the   delicacy  of  your  physical 


LOVELINESS    OF   SPIRIT.  125 

organization  and  the  sensibility  with  which  you  are 
endowed.  To  say  that  women  are  all  kind,  self- 
devoted,  sympathetic  and  lovely,  is  to  contradict  ex- 
perience. Pride,  jealousy,  discontent,  envy,  malice, 
and  other  baleful  fruits  of  a  sinful  nature,  however 
modified  in  their  manifestation,  are  as  common  in 
women  as  in  men.  As  far  as  they  exist,  they  make 
her  character  unlovely,  they  weaken  her  power  of 
attraction,  they  reduce  her  measure  of  influence  for 
good.  How  are  they  to  be  expelled  ?  Can  it  be 
done  by  self-culture  —  by  vigorous  resistance  of  will 
—  by  the  mind  itself?  Without  doubt,  much  of  the 
outward  manifestation  of  such  qualities  may  be  thus 
hindered  ;  but  their  growth  cannot  be  prevented,  nor 
their  existence  terminated,  by  human  strength  alone. 
Job  has  strongly  expressed  human  imbecility,  in  its 
conflict  with  these  evils  of  the  heart.     Hear  him. 

"  If  I  wash  myself  with  snow  water,  and  make  my 
hands  never  so  clean,  yet  shalt  thou  plunge  me  in  the 
ditch,  and  mine  own  clothes  shall  abhor  me.1 

By  this  striking  language,  we  are  taught  that 
when  man  has  done  his  best  to  purge  himself,  God 


126      THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR, 

has  but  to  let  light  shine  upon  his  heart,  to  make 
him  as  moraily  loathsome  in  his  own  eyes,  as  he 
would  be  physically  if  he  were  to  fall  into  a  ditch. 

Saint  Paul  also  made  this  experiment  of  self- 
purification,  with  all  the  might  of  his  great  soul. 
What  was  the  result  ?  Behold  it  in  his  pathetic  cry 
of  despair : 

"  0,  wretched  man  that  I  am !  who  shall  deliver 
me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ?  " 

By  whom,  therefore,  is  deliverance  to  be  won  ? 
Whose  hand  can  break  the  yoke  of  evil  passions  ? 
Whose  wand  can  bring  forth  beauty  in  the  spirit  ? 
Let  the  apostle  answer.     Hear  his  "  Io  triumphe  !  " 

"  The  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath 
made  me  free  ! "  That  is,  the  Holy  Spirit,  received 
into  the  heart  by  faith  in  Christ,  was  the  means  of 
delivering  him  from  his  evil  propensities,  and  of  en- 
abling him  to  produce  those  fruits  of  the  Spirit 
which  were  the  ornament  of  his  life.  Go,  then,  dear 
young  lady,  and  imitate  the  holy  apostle.  Lay  the 
foundations  of  a  lovely  character  in  a  converted 
heart.     Let  the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  create  you 


LOVELINESS   OF   SPIRIT.  127 

anew  in  his  image,  which  is  the  perfection  of  all 
loveliness.  Thus  will  you  be  put  in  possession  of 
genuine  virtue,  whose  lustre,  shining  in  all  your 
actions,  will  invest  your  character  with  real  glory 
Living  to  bless  others,  you  will  yourself  be  blessed; 
because, 

"  All  worldly  joys  are  less 
Than  that  one  joy  of  doing  kindnesses." 

And  when,  in  the  dying  hour,  you  are  feeling  that 

"Power,  will,  sensation,  memory,  fail  in  turn, 
Your  very  essence  seems  to  pass  away, 
Like  a  thin  cloud  that  melts  across  the  moon, 
Lost  in  the  blue  immensity  of  heaven." 

Then  those  you  have  loved,  and  blessed  in  loving 
them,  shall  watch  your  departing  soul,  and  breathe 
after  it  the  prayer  of 

"  Heaven's  peace  upon  thee,  even  as  thou  hast 
Over  this  soul  a  calm  of  sunshine  cast." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SELF-RELIANCE 

^  SWISS  hunter,  who  support- 
ed his  family,  for  many  years, 
by  hunting  the  wild  chamois  in 
the  mountains  around  his  humble 
^)  chalet,  was  induced  to  give  up  his 
abode,  and  remove  to  a  cottage, 
which  stood  beside  a  pass  in  the  lower 
Alps.  Here,  he  was  often  required  to 
act  as  guide  or  host  to  lost  or  weary 
travellers.  For  these  services  he  frequently 
received  liberal  rewards ;  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  became  the  possessor  of 
gold.  It  fascinated  him,  and  he  learned  to  taste  a 
strange  pleasure  in  hoarding  it  up,  and  in  listening  to 
its  chink,  as  he  counted  it  unnumbered  times. 

It  happened,  on  a  certain  day,  while  he  was  en- 


SELF-RELIANCE.  129 

gaged  in  hunting,  that  he  found  a  cavern  in  a  lone 
mountain  nook.  He  removed  a  stone  which  filled 
the  entrance,  that  he  might  eat  his  noontide  meal 
beneath  its  roof.  Judge  of  his  surprise,  on  entering, 
to  perceive#a  vase  filled  with  golden  coins  and  glit- 
tering ore !  The  sight  enchanted  him.  He  han- 
dled the  precious  treasure,  gazed  at  it,  counted  the 
coins,  and  was  half  frantic  with  insane  joy.  Nor  did 
he  stir  from  the  spot  until  the  day  had  waned. 
Then  he  securely  closed  the  cave,  for  he  was  afraid 
to  reveal  the  secret  even  to  his  wife,  and  returned  tc 
his  cottage  to  dream  of  his  magnificent  discovery. 

Day  after  day,  h  •  visited  his  treasure.  From 
"early  morn  to  dusky  eve,"  he  lay  beside  it,  feasting 
his  eyes  upon  the  dazzling  wealth.  All  his  interest 
in  his  home,  his  wife  and  children,  seemed  extin- 
guished. He  no  longer  bounded  over  the  hills  in 
search  of  the  wild  chamois,  nor  cared  to  lend  his 
services  to  the  mountain  traveller.  His  family  pined 
for  want  of  food.  His  own  person  grew  gaunt  and 
poor.     His  spirit  waxed  sullen  and  gloomy.     That 

cave  became  his  world.     To  watch  the  vase,  and 
9 


130       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

gloat  upon  its  contents,  was  his  life.  The  gold 
demon  had  enslaved  him ;  he  was  dead  to  every 
other  passion,  save  that  terrible  idolatry  of  gold. 

One  day,  as  he  lay  upon  the  ground,  absorbed  in 
counting  th?  money,  a  portion  of  the.  rock  that 
formed  the  cave  fell  from  above  upon  his  waist,  and 
pinned  him  to  the  earth.  Vainly  he  struggled  and 
writhed,  to  escape  from  his  strange  imprisonment. 
Vain  were  his  cries  for  aid.  The  cave  was  in  a  spot 
so  wild,  that  even  the  hunters  of  the  Alps  rarely 
passed  it  in  their  wanderings.  There,  then,  in  fear- 
ful agony,  he  perished.  And  when,  after  searching 
vainly  for  a  week,  his  friends  discovered  his  body 
the  fatal  gold  was  found  firmly  clutched  in  his  dead 
fingers. 

The  folly  of  this  foolish  huntsman  is  so  apparent, 
that  pity  for  his  fate  is  almost  lost  in  indignation  at 
his  insane  sacrifice  of  all  the  interests  of  life  to  a 
destructive  passion.  My  reader  shrinks  from  such 
an  example,  with  disdainful  pity.  Yet  many  of  her 
sex  are  the  victims  of  a  folly  equally  egregious,  and 
no  less  dangerous.     Possibly  my  reader  may  herself 


SELF-RELIANCE.  131 

be  guilty  of  spending  these  golden  years  of  her  life 
in  devotion  to  the  frivolous  and  transitory  joy  of  the 
passing  hour,  paying  no  regard  to  those  qualifications 
which  are  absolutely  necessary  for  her  subsequent 
conflict  with  real  life.  Her  daily,  hourly  devotion, 
is  paid  at  the  shrine  of  some  idle  pleasure,  which, 
like  the  hunter's  gold,  sways  her  as  with  the  en- 
chantment of  some  great  magician.  Amused,  infat- 
uated, thoughtless,  she  lives  on  the  plenty  of  her 
paternal  home,  an  absolute  dependant  upon  its  boun 
ty.  The  future,  with  its  thousand  possibilities  and 
probabilities  of  affliction,  stands  before  her,  claiming 
her  attention  and  demanding  preparation  for  its 
duties.  It  whispers  her  need  of  mental  and  moral 
qualifications,  as  strong  foundations  within  her  heart 
for  self-reliance,  in  the  day  of  desolation.  It  bids 
her  imitate  the  high  example  of  the  poet,  who 
said : 

"  I  from  that  secret  store 
Wrought  linked  armor  for  my  soul,  before 
It  might  walk  forth  to  war  among  mankind." 


132       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

To  this  whisper  she  is  deaf;  or,  hearing  it,  she 
turns,  like  Ginevra, 

M  Laughing  and  looking  back,  and  flying  still." 

She  will  live  in  and  for  the  present  only;  —  for  the 
present,  which  will  not  stay  with  her,  but  which 
glides  past  and  leaves  her  to  the  mercy  of  that  future 
which,  in  spite  of  her  neglect  to  prepare  for  it,  will 
come,  with  its  harsh  realities.  Will  it  be  wonderful 
if  its  coming  should  be  as  the  falling  of  the  stone 
upon  the  unhappy  Swiss,  —  a  cause  of  suffering,  of 
ruin,  of  sorrow  unto  death?  —  if  she  should  erewhile 
sit  amid  the  desolations  of  a  life-storm, 

"  Like  a  scorched  and  mildewed  bough, 
Leafless  'mid  the  blooms  of  May?  " 

I  hope,  therefore,  young  lady,  you  will  pluck  the 
fruit  of  wisdom  from  my  illustration,  and  learn  that 
one  of  your  first  duties  is  to  acquire  those  qualifica- 
tions which  are  necessary  to  fit  you  for  the  emer- 
gencies of  life,  and  to  enable  you  to  rely  upon  your- 
self, if,  at  any  time,  your  natural  protectors  should 
be   removed  Sr  death,  or  forsake  you  through  the 


SELF-RELIANCE.  133 

want  of  affection.  Young  ladies  whose  parents  are 
in  liberal  circumstances,  whose  wants  are  antici- 
pated by  loving  friends,  are  in  great  danger  of  grow- 
ing into  a  habit  of  depending  wholly  upon  others. 
They  insensibly  learn  to  lean  upon  the  arm  of  pa- 
rental strength.  They  fail  to  acquire  the  power  of 
depending  upon  themselves.  Nay,  they  dare  not 
contemplate  the  possibility  of  being  compelled  to  do 
so.  They  transfer  their  sense  of  dependence  from 
the  father  to  the  husband,  and  vainly  hope  that  one 
or  the  other  may  always  be  at  hand  with  the  means 
and  disposition  to  sustain  them.  They  look  upon 
themselves  as  on  the  ivy  whose  tendrils  cling  for 
support  to  the  majestic  oak  or  lofty  crag ;  forgetting 
that  the  lightning  may  rend  the  crag  or  smite  the 
oak  :  then,  what  is  left  to  the  ivy  but  to  trail  in  the 
dust,  to  be 

"  Soiled  beneath  the  common  tread  "  ? 

Now,  though  dependence  upon  others  is  more 
natural  and  more  fitting  to  woman  than  to  man,  — 
though,  in  the  providence  of  God,  she  generally  finds 


134       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

a  male  protector,  —  yet  since  she  may  be,  by  adverse 
events,  thrown  wholly  upon  her  own  resources,  — 
and  since,  in  the  actual  conflicts  of  life,  with  the  best 
of  parents,  brothers  or  husbands,  she  will  need  to 
lean  much  upon  herself,  —  I  earnestly  counsel  you, 
my  dear  young  reader,  to  assiduously  cultivate  a 
habit  of  self-reliance.  Seek  such  attainments  as  will 
enable  you  to  confide  in  yourself,  —  to  rise  equal  to 
your  exigencies.  Acquire  an  inward  principle  of 
self-support.  Then,  if  the  rock  of  your  early 
strength  be  smitten,  and  the  proud  oak  on  which  you 
lean,  with  the  fondness  of  a  first  affection,  be  blasted, 
you  may,  nevertheless,  stand  erect,  in  mournful  but 
triumphant  superiority,  amid  the  hapless  wreck. 

"  Hopes  are  fallacies.  Disappointment  is  the  only 
certainty  of  life."  This  is  a  saying  you  can  scarcely 
credit.  You  are  yet  too  young  to  readily  believe 
that  life  is  anything  worse  than  a  sea, 

M  Calm  as  a  cradled  child  in  dreamless  slumber  bound." 

A  few  years  more  of  life,  however,  will  write  that 
saying  in  deep  lines  upon  your  heart.     You  will 


SELF-RELIANCE.  135 

then  understand  the  wisdom  of  Napoleon  s  mother, 
Madame  Letitia,  who,  in  the  palmiest  days  of  her 
son,  when  he  was  giving  away  crowns,  dividing 
kingdoms,  and  standing  on  his  splendid  throne  as 
the  arbiter  of  European  destiny,  diligently  saved  her 
income. 

"  Why  do  you,  the  mother  of  a  great  emperor,  so 
carefully  labor  to  amass  money  ?  "  asked  one  of  her 
friends. 

"Who  knows  but  that  one  day  I  may  have  to 
give  bread  to  all  these  kings  ? "  was  her  sensible  and 
prophetic  reply.  She  had  learned  that  "  hopes  are 
fallacies ;  "  and,  when  the  wrecks  of  her  children's 
thrones  lay  in  melancholy  magnificence  around  her, 
it  could  hardly  be  said  that  she  was  disappointed. 

Picture  to  yourself  a  lady  in  the  flower  of  her* 
youth,  and  at  the  height  of  her  beauty.  She  is  tall, 
and  exquisitely  formed.  Her  head  is  erect  in  natu- 
ral majesty,  her  gait  is  graceful.  Her  features  are 
cast  in  a  mould  of  beauty.  Her  blue  eyes,  her  bril- 
liant complexion,  her  loveliness  of  expression,  give  a 
power   of  absolute   fascination   to    her   face.      Her 


136       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

conversation  is  as  charming  as  her  countenance. 
Hence,  she  is  not  only  the  queen,  but  the  star,  of  the 
magnificent  court  over  which  she  presides.  Her 
husband  idolizes  her.  Her  people  welcome  her  pres- 
ence with  enthusiastic  plaudits,  that  proclaim  the 
intensity  of  their  admiration. 

Turn  now  to  another  and  sadder  portrait.  See, 
standing  before  a  legal  tribunal,  a  woman  clad  in 
coarse  rags.  Her  tall  form  is  slightly  bowed,  yet 
it  betrays  an  air  of  dignity.  Her  eyes  are  dim  with 
sorrow,  but  at  times  are  lighted  with  a  few  brilliant 
rays.  Beneath  the  eyelids  is  a  black  circle,  graved 
by  grief  and  woe.  Her  face  is  pallid,  and  her  long 
hair,  flowing  down  upon  her  neck,  is  white  with 
anguish.  All  eyes  are  turned  upon  her,  not  in  love 
or  pity,  but  in  curiosity,  in  hate,  or  in  triumph. 

Do  you  demand  the  name  of  these  ladies  ?  Alas ! 
both  these  pictures  represent  one  celebrated  woman, 
Marie  Antoinette  !  In  the  first,  she  is  newly 
arrived  from  Austria,  and  recently  wedded  to  King 
Louis ;  in  the  second,  she  is  deposed  from  her 
throne,  and  placed  at  the  bar  of  a  remorseless  revolu- 


SELF-RELIANCE.  137 

tion,  to  receive  sentence  of  death.  A  few  hours 
after  its  pronouncement,  her  once  beautiful  head  fell 
into  the  blood-stained  basket  of  the  guillotine,  and 
her  fair  form  was  buried  amid  heaps  of  common 
dead  in  La  Madeleine.  On  the  register  is  this 
record :  "  For  the  coffin  of  the  loidow  Capet,  seve% 
francs.11 

Such  was  the  descent  from  the  pinnacle  of  human 
splendor,  greatness  and  glory,  to  the  profoundest 
deep  of  earthly  gloom  and  nothingness,  experienced 
)y  that  once  proud  and  haughty  queen.  I  urge  it 
upon  you  as  an  example  of  the  uncertainties  attached 
to  human  condition,  as  a  warning  not  to  place  too 
much  dependence  upon  those  props  which  support 
your  hopes,  and  as  a  reason  for  cultivating  those 
qualities  which  lie  at  the  basis  of  a  reasonable  and 
Christian  self-reliance.  What  if  fortune  has  a  home 
in  your  father's  halls,  and  the  ease  and  elegances  of 
fashionable  life  are  at  your  command  ?  What  if  you 
are  the  bride  of  a  scholar,  a  genius,  a  statesman, 
merchant  ?  What  if  you  are  so  surrounded  by 
strong  friends  and  loving  hearts,  that,  to  human  eyes 


138       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

it  seems  impossible  you  could  ever  fail  of  either 
friends  or  external  resources  ?  What  security  have 
you  for  the  permanency  of  all  these  friends  ?  May 
not  death  smite  your  father  and  mother  to  the  dust  ? 
May  not  adversity  dissolve  the  fabric  of  your  for- 
tunes ?  Yea,  may  not  some  terrible  passion  enter 
the  heart  of  your  beloved,  blight  all  his  virtues,  and 
transform  him  into  an  incarnate  fiend  ?  May  you 
not,  in  consequence,  find  yourself  friendless,  helpless 
and  unpitied  ?  May  you  not  thus  be  called  upon  to 
draw  from  your  own  inward  resources?  To  stand 
alone  in  society,  amid  cold  hearts  and  unsympathiz- 
ing  spirits  ?  Ask  the  shade  of  the  unfortunate 
Marie  Antoinette  for  an  answer.  Inquire  of  ten 
thousand  living  daughters  of  misfortune,  who,  on 
life's  "  unsheltered  walk,"  are  like  myrtle-leaves. 

"  Flung  to  fade,  to  rot  and  die." 

Yes,  my  young  friend,  you  may  believe  me,  when 
1  affirm  that  all  life's  wealth  and  friendships  are  so 
fickle  and  fading  that  even  the  most  favored  young 
lady  owes  it  to  herself  and  to  society  to  learn  the  art 


SELF-RILIANCE.  139 

and  to  acquire  the  power  of  relying  upon  her  own 
energies  and  attainments. 

A  consciousness  of  power  to  grapple  with  actual 
life  is  indispensable  to  a  woman,  in  deciding  the 
greatest  question  of  her  earthly  life,  —  marriage. 
Nothing  else  can  enable  her  to  act  independently,  if 
she  is  poor,  or  likely  to  be  so.  Dependent  poverty  is 
one  of  the  saddest  and  most  tyrannical  of  human 
ills.  Life  is  a  dreary  waste,  its  storms  are  heralds 
of  certain  destruction,  to  a  helpless,  friendless  woman, 
who  is  conscious  of  an  utter  impotency  to  conquer  its 
difficulties.  There  is  no  heart  so  brave  as  not  to 
quail  and  tremble  in  such  a  hapless  condition.  Hear 
a  poet,  speaking  of  the  helpless  poor,  Under  the  press- 
ure of  heavy  trials  : 

11  Their  labor  all  their  wealth  : 
Let  the  wheel  rest  from  toil  a  single  sun, 
And  all  the  humble  clock-work  is  undone  ; 
The  custom  lost,  the  drain  upon  the  hoard, 
The  debt  that  sweeps  the  fragment  from  the  board. 
How  mark  the  hunger  round  thee  and  be  brave,  — 
Foresee  thy  orphan,  and  not  fear  the  grave  f 


140      THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Ay,  who  can  be  brave  that  gazes  upon  an  ap- 
proaching evil,  which  she  is  utterly  impctent  to  sub- 
due ?  None.  Hence  it  is  that  many  a  young  lady, 
bereft  of  her  parents,  or  anticipating  such  a  bereave- 
ment, gives  her  hand,  without  her  heart,  to  a  hus- 
band, for  the  sake  of  a  settlement.  She  does  not 
love  him.  She  is  clearly  aware  of  his  unfitness  to 
make  her  happy.  She  even  shrinks,  at  first,  with 
ill-concealed,  inward  loathing,  from  the  idea  of  sur- 
rendering herself  to  a  man  her  heart  has  not  chosen. 
She  tries  to  summon  courage  sufficient  to  refuse  him. 
But  the  consciousness  of  her  entire  inability  to  de- 
pend upon  herself  prompts  the  inquiry,  "  What  shall 
I  do  ?  I  need  a  home.  He  will  at  least  keep  me  in 
a  respectable  condition  in  life.  I  must  marry  him.'* 
And,  forthwith,  she  stands  at  the  altar,  and  plights  a 
love  she  does  not  feel.  She  becomes  a  wife,  not 
from  a  sense  of  love  and  duty,  but  from  the  merce- 
nary desire  to  obtain  a  shelter  from  the  fierce  storms 
whose  violence  she  is  unable  to  resist  by  her  own 
powers. 

How  exalted  and  superior  is  the  position  of  that 


SELF-RELIANCE.  Ml 

voung  lady,  who,  by  a  careful  process  ot  self-culture, 
xias  acquired  a  noble  consciousness  of  power  to  sus- 
tain herself  in  womanly  independence,  should  death 
deprive  her  of  her  natural  protectors  and  supporters  ! 
True,  she  may  shrink  from  the  conflict,  as  the  bravest 
soldiers  may  tremble  in  the  terrible  silence  that  pre- 
cedes the  hour  of  battle.  But  she  makes  no  sacri- 
fice to  her  fears.  A  sense  of  power  to  cope  with 
circumstances  inspires  her  with  confidence  and  cour- 
age. She  exhibits  the  firmness  of  Morvale,  of 
whom  the  poet  sings,  in  his  romance,  that, 

(l  Life  glowed  vigorous  in  his  deep  set-eye, 
With  a  calm  force  that  dared  you  to  defy  ; 
And  the  small  foot  was  planted  on  the  stone, 
Firm  as  a  gnome's  upon  his  mountain  throne.  'J 

Thus  firmly  she  views  the  lonely  struggle  with 
.ife.  She  is  prepared  for  it,  and  can  stand  self-sup- 
ported amid  the  selfish  throngs  that  crowd  its  motley 
stage.  She  is  therefore  at  liberty  to  consult  her 
heart,  whenever  a  candidate  for  her  hand  appears. 
The  mercenary  idea  is  excluded.  She  withholds 
her  hand,  until  she  can  give  it  "  with  her  heart  in 


142       THE  YOUNG  LAD  'S  COUNSELLOR. 

it."     How  precious  a  talisman  of  safety,  therefore, 
is  this  invaluable  po  ver  of  relying  upon  yourself  I 

But,  laying  aside  the  arguments  already  adduced, 
— admitting  that  God  may  vouchsafe  you  friends  and 
protectors  throughout  the  period  of  your  mortal  life> 
and  that  you  are  in  circumstances  to  exclude  the 
mercenary  idea  from  the  question  of  marriage,— still, 
self-reliance  is  indispensable  to  your  happiness.  As 
your  youth  changes  into  womanhood,  whether  yo<: 
marry  or  remain  single,  new  duties,  new  respons 
ibilities,  will  devolve  upon  you,  and  new  circum 
stances  will  grow  up  around  you.  Instead  of  having 
others  to  think  and  plan  for  you,  you  will  have  to 
think  and  plan  for  yourself.  Instead  of  being  led, 
you  will  have  to  lead  others.  You  will,  in  many 
things,  be  thrown  upon  your  own  resources.  You 
will  be  called  to  act  new  parts  in  society,  and  to 
meet  new  expectations.  Should  you  become  a  wife, 
your  husband's  interests  may  demand  the  exercise 
of  the  highest  attributes  of  character  in  you,  tc 
enable  you  to  sustain,  with  becoming  dignity,  the 
difficulties  or   honors   of  his  position.     You   must, 


SELF-RELIANCE.  143 

then,  be  either  as  weakness  and  disease  to  his  pin- 
ions, or  as  beauty  and  vigor  to  the  wings  by  which 
he  ascends  to  honor  and  fortune.  And  it  may  be 
that  your  character  will  determine  the  question  of 
his  success  or  defeat,  in  the  mighty  battle  of  life,  — 
for  many  a  man  of  high  promise  and  golden  gifts  has 
been  dragged  deep  into  despair,  by  a  weak-minded, 
inefficient  wife  or  daughter?  while,  as  already  shown, 
in  others,  the  secret  springs  of  great  achievement 
have  been  set  in  motion  by  female  power.  By  all 
your  hopes  of  a  happy  and  prosperous  life,  you  are 
bound  to  rely  upon  yourself. 

There  is  a  great  fact  written  with  the  tears  - 
woman's  remorse,  which,  but  for  its  immense  import- 
ance, I  would  not  name  in  these  pages.  Yet,  if  1 
forbore  to  do  so,  I  might  be  deemed  unfaithful  to  the 
task  I  have  undertaken.  Know,  then,  young  lady, 
that  of  the  thousands  of  your  sex  who  have  fallen 
from  the  serene  heights  of  virtue  to  the  deep  infamy 
of  an  impure  life,  by  far  the  largest  number  have 
been  driven  to  their  degradation  by  the  iron  rod  of 
destitution.     Their  virtue  was  subdued  by  the   fear 


144  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

of  beggary.  Trained  in  the  lap  of  plenty,  untaught 
in  the  art  of  self-dependence,  they  leaned  upon  oth- 
ers for  support.  Death  or  abandonment  left  them 
without  guardian  or  protector,  — 

"Like  the  wreck  left  to  drift  amidst  the  roar 
Of  the  great  ocean  with  the  rocky  shore." 

They  knew  not  whither  to  fly,  nor  what  to  do  for 
the  means  of  subsistence.  Clothed  in  rags,  the  pale 
and  emaciated  spectre  of  utter  destitution  stood  be- 
fore them,  and  filled  their  hearts  with  forebodings  of 
a  pauper's  death.  Then  appeared  the  vile  seducer 
with  his  eyes  of  fire,  his  smiles  of  deceit,  his  whis- 
pers of  falsehood,  and  his  promises  of  gold.  Affright- 
ed by  poverty,  and  lured  by  insinuating  voices  of 
hypocritical  pretensions,  they  took  the  fatal  leap 
which  plunged  them  into  fathomless  caverns  of  unut- 
terable despair.  Had  they,  in  earlier  and  happier 
years,  acquired  the  power  of  supporting  themselves, 
and  of  relying  upon  their  own  mental  resources,  they 
would,  in  all  probability  have  stood  pure  and  beauti- 
ful in  the  ranks  of  virtue.     Self-reliance,  that  strong 


SELF-RELIANCE.  145 

bulwark  of  female  virtue,  would  have  saved  them; 
for  by  it  a  woman  defies  the  terrors  of  poverty,  and 
maintains  such  an  attitude  of  strength  and  dignified 
self-respect  as  keeps  even  the  boldest  tempters  afar 
off.  Her  very  independence  of  character  is  as  an 
armor  of  proof,  invulnerable  to  the  arrows  of  the 
destroyer.  Instead  of  attracting  the  eye  as  a  suita- 
ble victim  for  the  temples  of  sin,  such  a  woman 
awakens  only  sentiments  of  respect  and  admiration ; 
and  all  are  ready  to  exclaim,  as  they  behold  her, 

"  Honor  to  her,  who,  self-complete  and  brave, 
In  strength,  can  carve  her  pathway  to  the  grave, 
And,  heeding  naught  what  others  think  or  say, 
Make  her  own  heart  her  world  upon  the  way." 

Let  me  draw  your  attention  to  two  queens,  and  to 
the  diverse  effect  of  their  efforts,  in  two  appalling 
exigencies.  The  one  is  Marie  Antoinette,  whose 
sad  fall  from  a  magnificent  throne  to  a  seven-franc 
coffin,  in  La  Madeleine,  I  just  now  described.  The 
other  is  Esther,  once  queen  of  the  Persian  Ahasu- 
erus.  The  former  saw  her  throne  menaced  by  a 
terrible  revolution.  It  hung  like  huge  masses  of 
10 


146       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

black  cloud  over  her  palace ;  it  rose  formidable  and 
furious  as  the  dashing  wave  around  her  husband's 
throne.  She  was  his  idol,  and  had  obtained  irresisti- 
ble as  :endency  over  his  mind.  Alarmed  at  the  dan- 
ger, anxious  for  her  husband's  honor,  eager  to  main- 
tain the  ancient  monarchy,  she  undertook  the  peril- 
ous task  of  governing  and  subduing  the  revolution. 
But,  alas  !  every  step  she  took  only  increased  its 
fury,  and  added  to  its  power.  Instead  of  appealing 
to  the  confidence  of  the  people,  rnd  thus  fanning  the 
latent  sparks  of  loyalty  to  a  fla.ne  by  manifestations 
of  real  regard  for  their  interests,  she  contrived  to 
appear  as  the  personal  enemy  of  the  revolution,  and 
thereby  brought  down  defeat  and  death  upon  herself 
and  family,  as  the  reader  very  well  knows. 

Queen  Esther,  also,  was  called  to  behold  a  terrible 
destruction  menacing  herself  and  her  entire  nation. 
The  uplifted  axe,  in  the  irresistible  hand  of  potent 
despotism,  gleamed  horribly  as  it  swept  the  air  with 
intent  to  fall  on  the  neck  of  a  doomed  nation.  The 
dark  decree  for  Jewish  extermination,  signed  by  the 
unalterable  seal  of  Persian  majesty,  and  committed 


SELF-RELIANCE.  147 

for  execution  to  the  malicious  Haman,  seemed  fated 
to  inevitable  consummation.  To  human  wisdom 
there  appeared  no  possible  door  of  escape.  Then  it 
was  that  the  sage  Mordecai  appealed  to  Esther,  and 
summoned  her  to  the  mission  of  saving  her  people. 
At  first,  her  womanly  spirit  shrank  from  the  trial. 
Eoused  by  another  appeal  from  Mordecai,  she  at 
length  undertook  the  task.  Most  sublimely  did  she 
devote  herself  and  crown  to  the  heroic  work.  First, 
she  consecrated  her  life  to  the  national  cause.  Then, 
by  fervent  devotion  and  pure  communion  with  her 
Creator,  she  wrought  her  spirit  up  to  glorious  enthu- 
siasm. A  fire  like  that  of  inspiration  flashed  in  her 
dark,  expressive  eyes.  All  the  majesty  of  high 
resolve,  softened  by  the  mild  rlow  of  womanly  affec- 
tions, irradiated  her  features,  and  made  her  the  love- 
liest of  "  Judah's  lovely  daughters."  Thus  prepared, 
.she  entered  upon  her  work.  She  appealed  to  the 
affections  of  her  husband,  and  to  the  pride  of  the  na- 
tion's enemy.  While  she  inflamed  the  love  of  her 
lord,  the  king,  until  he  panted  with  desire  to  bestow 
upon  her  the  costliest  proofs  of  his  attachment,  she 


148       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

also,  with  wondrous  skill,  drew  around  her  foe  the 
meshes  of  that  net  which  was  to  entangle  and 
destroy  him.  Thus  holding  the  prey  in  her  grasp, 
she  seized  the  fitting  moment,  and  then,  with  all  of 
woman's  wit  and  witchcraft,  she  converted  the  rushing 
torrent  of  love,  that  bounded  through  her  husband's 
heart  towards  her,  into  a  fierce  tide  of  terrible  rage 
against  Haman.  The  effect  was  instantaneous  and 
complete.  Her  foe  perished,  her  people  lived.  The 
power  that  sought  their  death  defended  them.  A 
woman's  love,  guided  by  exalted  wisdom  and  self- 
sacrificing  heroism,  had  rescued  a  nation  from  de- 
struction. 

Whence  proceeded  the  melancholy  failure  of  the 
French  queen,  and  the  complete  success  of  Esther  ? 
Both  acted  in  a  great  crisis,  —  both  aimed  at  a  na- 
tional result,  —  both  exerted  their  utmost  powers. 
Marie  failed,  and  perished ;  Esther  succeeded,  and 
lived  to  enjoy  her  triumph.  That  there  were  many 
and  important  differences  in  their  circumstances,  is 
admitted ;  and  yet,  it  is  difficult  to  escape  the  con- 
clusion, that  the  strong,  shrewd  wisdom  which  saved 


SELF-RELIANCE.  149 

the  Jewish  nation,  would  have  gone  far  toward 
achieving  a  victory  over  the  French  revolution,  had 
it  been  directed  to  that  object ;  and  that  the  disquali* 
fication  of  Marie  Antoinette  would  have  been  as  fatal 
to  Mordecai  and  the  Jews,  as  it  was  to  Louis  and 
the  French  monarchy.  The  reason  of  the  failure  of 
the  beautiful  Austrian  princess  is  patent  to  all.  Her 
youth  had  been  misimproved.  Hear  the  testimony 
of  the  historian  Alison.  He  says :  "  She  had  little 
education ;  read  hardly  anything  but  novels  and 
romances ;  and  had  a  fixed  aversion,  during  her  pros- 
perous days,  to  every  species  of  business,  or  serious 
employment." 

Here  is  the  secret  of  that  vacillation  and  contra- 
dictory action  which  ruled  in  the  court  of  Louis,  at 
the  outset  of  the  revolution.  His  queen,  who 
attempted  to  steer  the  ship  of  state  in  that  tempestu- 
ous sea,  was  not  competent  to  the  task.  She  knew 
this,  and  hence  dared  not  rely  upon  her  own  judg- 
ment. And  her  unfitness  is  to  be  traced  to  the  ab- 
sence of  those  lofty  qualities  of  mind,  which  are  the 


150  THE   YOUNG    LADY'S    COUNSELLOR. 

offspring  of  that  early  self-culture  which  she  not 
only  carelessly  neglected,  but  heartily  despised. 
.  Esther,  on  the  contrary,  spent  her  youth  in  the 
company  of  Mordecai,  listening  to  the  wise  counsels 
of  his  powerful  and  comprehensive  intellect.  By 
this  means,  she  acquired  a  vigorous,  reflecting  and 
commanding  mind;  a  consciousness  of  power,  a  confi- 
dence in  herself,  by  which  she  rose  equal  to  hei 
duties,  in  a  terrible  crisis.  Had  she  resembled  the 
French  queen  in  her  youth,  her  illustrious  name 
would  not  have  stood,  as  it  now  does,  at  the  head  of 
the  list  of  great,  good  and  patriotic  women. 

Let  Esther  stimulate  you,  young  lady,  to  the 
patient  cultivation  of  the  sources  of  self-reliance. 
Mental  strength,  firmness,  courage,  industry,  perse- 
verance, and  skill,  in  some  art  or  profession,  lie  at 
the  foundation  of  this  essential  spirit.  Seek  these 
qualifications,  and  exercise  them,  that  they  may 
grow  in  you  like  thrifty  plants.  Prepare  yourself 
for  any  crisis  or  position  to  which  you  may  be  called. 
Then,  if  fortunate  and  prosperous,  your  character 
will   glow  with  resplendent  beauty  in  your   happv 


SELF-EELIANCE.  151 

sphere.      If  unfortunate,  and   summoned   to   battle 
with  adversity, 

"  Your  spirit,  long  inured  to  pain, 
May  smile  at  fate,  in  calm  disdain  • 
Survive  its  darkest  hour,  and  rise 
In  more  majestic  energies." 

While,  if  you  despise  the  wisdom  which  distils 
irom  these  examples,  —  if  you  live  in  slothful,  idle 
self-neglect  during  the  sunny  hours  of  youth,  and 
trouble  suddenly  bursts  on  your  defenceless  head,  — 

"Your  mind  shall  sink,  a  blighted  flower, 
Dead  to  the  sunbeam  and  the  shower ; 
A  broken  gem,  whose  inborn  light 
Is  scattered,  ne'er  to  reunite." 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

THE   SECRET   SPRINGS   OF  SELF-RELIANCE. 

URING  the  crusades,  a  British 
knight,  named  Gilbert,  was  taken 
prisoner,  and  made  the  slave  of  a 
Saracen  emir.  His  misfortunes  ex- 
cited the  pity,  and  his  manly  beauty 
awakened  the  love,  of  the  emir's  daugh- 
ter. By  her  assistance,  he  escaped  from 
his  ignoble  bondage,  and  returned  to 
England.  Shortly  after,  the  lady  left 
her  father's  home,  and  followed  him,  not- 
withstanding she  knew  nothing  of  his 
address,  nor  of  his  language,  except  two  English 
words,  London  and  Gilbert.  By  repeating  the  first, 
she  found  a  vessel,  and  reached  that  city.  Arrived 
in  London,  she  traversed   the  streets,  crying  "Gil- 


THE    SECRET    SPRINGS   OF   SELF-RELIANCE.         153 

bert !  Gilbert ! "  Curious  crowds  gathered  round 
her,  asking  a  thousand  questions,  none  of  which  she 
understood,  and  to  which  she  responded  by  the 
watchword  of  her  love  —  "Gilbert!"  At  last,  a 
servant  of  the  knight  recognized  her,  and  informed 
his  master.  Admiring  the  strength  and  romantic 
heroism  of  her  affection,  and  bound  hy  a  sense  of 
knightly  honor,  the  brave  crusader  led  her  to  the 
altar,  and  made  her  his  rejoicing  bride.  That  lady 
afterwards  hecame  the  mother  of  the  celebrated 
Thomas  a  Becket,  —  a  prelate,  whose  power  was 
feared  even  by  his  royal  master,  the  King  of  Eng- 
land. 

Now,  however  we  may  admire  the  simplicity  and 
the  love  of  this  maiden,  we  cannot  fail  to  perceive 
her  imprudence.  That  she  was  successful,  does  not 
diminish  the  actual  folly  of  her  enterprise ;  for  she 
was  far  more  likely  to  perish  than  to  succeed.  She 
cast  herself  upon  a  sea  of  dangerous  adventure, 
relying  upon  the  resources  of  her  affection ;  which, 
viewed  apart  from  the  casualty  which  saved  her, 
were  utterly  insufficient  for  her  purpose.     She  relied 


154       THE  YOUNG  LADY 's  COUNSELLOR. 

upon  herself  only  because  she  was  too  ignorant  to 
understand  her  own  insufficiency.  Her  self-reliance, 
therefore,  was  more  culpable  than  praiseworthy,  — 
more  likely  to  plunge  her  into  ruin  than  to  lead  hei 
to  success.  It  lacked  proper  foundations.  The 
qualifications  necessary  to  make  her  advent  into 
society  in  search  of  her  knight  successful  were 
wanting ;  and,  but  for  its  favorable  results,  would  be 
viewed  as  the  rash  enterprise  of  a  love-sick  girl. 

A  self-reliance  equally  rash  is  possible  in  my 
reader.  She  may  rely  upon  herself,  without  reflect- 
ing on  the  real  difficulties  of  life,  or  the  inadequacy 
of  her  powers  to  combat  them.  With  the  weakness 
of  the  lamb,  she  may  falsely  deem  herself  able  to 
contend  against  the  strength  of  the  lion.  Confident 
in  her  abilities,  she  may  go  forth,  like  the  emir's 
daughter;  but  no  similar  fortunate  intervention  of 
Providence  may  snatch  her  from  danger,  or  hinder 
an  army  of  difficulties  from  trampling  her  in  the 
mire  of  misfortune  and  ruin.  True  self-reliance  is 
cognizant  of  all  the  ills  of  earthly  existence,  and  it 
rests  on  a  rational  consciousness  of  power  to  contend 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS   OF    SELF-RELIANCE.         155 

with  them  It  counts  the  cost  of  the  conflict  with 
real  life,  and  calmly  concludes  that  it  is  able  to  meet 
the  foes  which  stand,  in  frowning  array,  on  the 
world's  great  battle-field.  Such  is  the  self-reliance 
whose  necessity  I  urged  in  the  preceding  chapter, 
and  whose  secret  springs  I  intend  to  describe  in  this. 

One  of  these  springs  is  a  decided  mind  —  an 
established  purpose  of  the  heart  not  to  be  turned 
aside  from  the  path  of  duty  by  any  consideration  of 
pleasure,  pain  or  profit. 

A  notable  illustration  of  decision  of  character  is 
found  in  the  conduct  of  the  rough  but  brave  Pi- 
zarro,  in  his  celebrated  conquest  of  Peru.  He  and 
his  warriors  had  already  endured  the  most  fearful 
sufferings  and  extreme  privations.  They  had  warred 
with  nature  in  the  vast  solitudes  of  the  Andes,  — 
they  had  contended  with  the  undisciplined  but 
fierce  bravery  of  the  Indian  native.  Worn  out  by 
fatigue,  prostrated  through  want  of  nourishment, 
condemned  and  recalled  by  their  superiors  at  Pan- 
ama, they  stood,  forlorn  and  discouraged,  on  the  Isle 
'  of  Gallo,  resolved  to  return,  and  to  abandon  their 


156       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

enterprise.  Then  Pizarro  stood  forth  in  the  great- 
ness of  his  character.  Tracing  a  line  in  the  sand 
east  and  west,  with  the  point  of  his  sword,  he  turned 
towards  the  south  and  said,  "  Friends  and  comrades, 
on  that  side  are  toil,  hunger,  nakedness,  the  drench 
ing  rain,  desertion  and  death  ;  on  this  side,  ease  and 
pleasure.  There  lies  Peru,  with  its  riches;  here, 
Panama,  and  its  poverty.  Choose  each  man  what 
best  becomes  a  brave  Castilian  !  For  my  part,  I  go 
to  the  south !  " 

With  these  words,  he  crossed  the  line,  followed  by 
as  many  spirits  as  had  caught  the  infectious  energy 
of  his  speech.  That  act,  so  timely  and  characteris- 
tic, made  him  the  conqueror  of  Peru. 

The  point  I  wish  you  to  notice,  in  this  incident,  is, 
the  consecration  of  life  and  fortune  to  a  favorite 
idea  which  it  manifests  in  Pizarro.  He  had  delib- 
erately weighed  the  dangers  and  the  glory  of  his 
ideal  conquest.  He  had  devoted  his  life  to  its  real- 
ization. Hence,  the  prospect  of  danger  and  death 
could  not  intimidate  him,  nor  move  him  from  his 
purpose.     He  preferred  to  die  aspiring  and  contend- 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS   OF   SELF-RELIANCE.         157 

mg  for  an  empire,  rather  than  to  live  an  easy,  inglo 
nous  life.     This  spirit  made  him  invincible. 

To  enter  life  with  safety,  you  require  a  corre- 
sponding consecration  of  life  and  fortune  to  the  idea 
of  duty.  You  must  deliberately  dedicate  yourself  to 
the  claims  of  right.  You  must  habituate  yourself  to 
resist  every  motive  to  wrong,  whether  it  appeals  to 
hope  or  fear,  pain  or  profit ;  and  to  decide  instantly, 
and  finally,  in  all  cases,  great  and  small,  in  favor  of 
right  and  truth.  By  such  self-training,  your  moral 
instinct  will  acquire  such  quickness  and  strength, 
that  it  will  be  difficult  to  resist  it,  and  easy  to  follow 
it.  Right  will  become  your  guiding  star.  You  will 
grow  conscious  of  an  adhesion  to  it  so  strong,  that 
any  measure  of  physical  agony,  or  even  death  itself, 
will  be  preferable  to  a  departure  from  its  dictates. 

With  a  mind  conscious  of  such  noble  decision,  — 
sure  of  itself  in  moments  of  temptation,  —  how  justly 
may  a  young  lady  rely  upon  herself,,  when  called  by 
the  providence  of  God  to  stand  bereft  of  earthly  sup- 
porters, on  the  bustling  stage  of  life  !  Poverty,  sor- 
row, toil,  scorn,  she  may  suffer ;    but  shame,  guilt 


158       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

and  remorse,  never.  Her  decision  of  charactei 
shields  her  from  guilt,  which  is  the  worst  of  ills. 
With  this  security,  she  can  afford  to  hurl  defiance  at 
all  the  rest.  She  may  walk  through  fire,  but  she 
cannot  be  burned.  Floods  may  roll  around  her,  but 
she  cannot  be  overwhelmed.  She  carries  an  amulet 
of  mysterious  power  in  her  heart,  and  is  safe. 

I  have  often  admired  the  decision  of  Josephine's 
affection  for  the  emperor  Napoleon.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  infamous  cruelty  in  divorcing  her  for  nothing 
but  reasons  of  cold-hearted  state  policy,  she  never 
swerved  for  a  moment  from  her  attachment  Though 
separated  from  him,  she  cherished  his  image  in  her 
heart;  brooded  over  the  past  with  melancholy  fond- 
ness ;  rejoiced  in  his  success,  and  grieved  over  his 
fall.  Though  no  one  had  been  so  greatly  wronged, 
no  one  continued  to  love  him  with  so  pu^e  a  regard. 
No  evil  passion  was  permitted  to  break  forth  against 
him,  —  but  he  remained  the  idol  of  her  heart,  until 
it  broke  with  the  swellings  of  anguish  and  sorrow. 

It  is  from  such  a  decided  and  incorruptible  affec- 
tion for  the  idea  of  duty,  I  would  have  the  sentiment 


THE    SECRET    SPRINGS    OF   SELF-RELIANCE.        159 

of  sevf-reliance  flow  in  my  young  reader's  soul. 
Thus  supported,  she  may  gaze  on  the  armed  troops 
of  temptations  which  frown  upon  her,  and  say,  in 
the  language  of  a  bold  general  to  his  mutinous 
legions : 

"  Put  up  your  paltry  weapons  ! 
They  edgeless  are  to  him  who  fears  them  not. 
Rocks  have  been  shaken  from  their  solid  base,  — 
But  what  shall  move  a  firm  and  dauntless  mind?  " 

Courage  that  shrinks  not  from  the  coming  of  dan- 
ger, but  bravely  girds  itself  for  assault  and  victory,  is 
another  secret  spring  of  self-reliance  in  a  young  lady. 
A  weak  and  timid  spirit  cowers  and  weeps,  in  imbe- 
cile fear,  when  evil  rises  frowning  in  her  presence. 
But  a  courageous  woman  resembles-  that  noble 
matron  at  Lexington,  —  Mrs.  Harrington,  —  who, 
when  the  tramp  of  the  British  soldiers  startled  the 
ears  of  the  patriots,  and  proclaimed  the  coming  of 
wrar  and  death,  instead  of  sitting  down  to  tremble 
and  shed  useless  tears,  hurried  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairway,  and  shouted  to  her  sleeping  son  of  sixteen  : 


160       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

'Jonathan,  you  must  get  up;  the  regulars  are 
coining.     Something  must  be  done  !  " 

This  is  an  example  of  genuine  courage.  It  looked 
the  danger  in  the  face,  and  conceived  a  bold  and  set- 
tled purpose  to  assail  it.  Fear  was  subdued  by  the 
stern  resolve  to  confront  its  object.  The  "  regulars  " 
were  viewed  not  merely  as  messengers  of  death,  but  as 
the  minions  of  royalty,  to  be  driven  back  to  Bos- 
ton by  patriotic  valor.  "  Something  "  was  to  "  be 
done." 

The  young  lady  may  imagine  that  in  these  days 
of  peace  courage  is  unnecessary  in  a  woman.  This 
is  a  mistake.  Courage  is  as  necessary  to-day  as  in 
times  of  war  or  martyrdom.  It  is  not  battle-fields  or 
scaffolds,  alone,  that  try  the  soul  and  demand  cour- 
age. Every-day  life  calls  loudly  for  its  exercise. 
Does  it  require  no  courage  for  that  young  lady,  long 
nursed  in  the  lap  of  indulgent  kindness,  who  has  just 
returned  from  her  father's  grave,  to  go  forth  into  the 
world  a  penniless  orphan  ?  Can  that  mother,  reared 
by  kind  parents  in  her  girlhood,  but  left  to  support 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS    OF    SELF-RELIANCE.        161 

herse.f  and  little  ones  by  a  brutal  husband,  who 
nobly  fulfilled  all  the  early  promise  of  his  youth, 

M  Till  cursed  passion 
Came  like  a  sun-stroke  on  his  mid-day  toil, 
And  cut  the  strong  man  down," 

and  taught  him  to  forget  his  vows,  waste  his  means 
in  profligate  dens,  and  carry  unmitigated  abuse  to 
his  home,  —  can  she  dispense  with  courage  ?  Can 
that  widow,  bereaved  of  her  husband,  and  suddenly 
left  in  poverty,  with  helpless  children  to  maintain 
struggle  with  her  lot  without  courage  ?  Can  woman 
minister  to  the  sick,  or  endure  her  own  heritage  of 
sorrow,  without  it  ?  Nay,  young  lady ;  courage  is  as 
necessary  to  you  as  to  a  warrior,  —  and  without  it 
you  never  can  possess  genuine  self-reliance. 

One  important  use  of  courage  in  woman  is  to  in- 
spire the  spirit  of  her  father,  brother,  husband  or  son, 
in  the  hour  of  trial.  Some  women  sink,  and  drag 
their  friends  with  them,  in  the  hour  of  trouble.  A 
father's  difficulties  are  greeted  with  the  tears  of  his 
wife  and  the  lamentations  of  his  daughters.  They 
even  reflect  upon  him,  and  charge  his  conduct  with 
11 


162       THE  YOUNG  LADY 's  COUNSELLOR. 

folly.  Shame  on  such  women !  They  pour  the 
overflowing  drop  into  a  full  cup.  They  tread  upon 
the  fallen  one.  They  plunge  the  drowning  victim 
beneath  the  wave.  Such  women  are  unworthy  of 
their  sex.  Their  spiritless  conduct  plucks  down  ruin 
upon  themselves  and  on  their  households.  When 
too  late,  they  survey  their  wretched  work,  and  gazing 
on  the  ruin  they  helped  to  create,  they  are  forced  to 
cry,  with  the  Victoria  of  the  tragic  poet, 

"  What  have  I  done  ?     I  've  fooled  a  noble  heart  ~ 
I  've  wrecked  a  brave  man's  honor !  " 

It  is  a  woman's  duty  to  cheer,  not  to  depress ;  to 
encourage,  not  to  alarm ;  to  inspire  with  fresh  spirit 
for  renewed  struggles  against  misfortune,  not  to 
plunge  into  despair  and  inactivity.  How  beautifully 
is  this  noble  trait  exemplified  in  the  Countess  Al- 
bert, the  wife  of  an  Austrian  nobleman !  Bpfore 
his  marriage,  he  was  guilty  of  righting  a  duel  with  a 
general  of  the  imperial  army,  in  opposition  to  the 
express  commands  of  the  emperor.  His  shot  took 
effect  upon  his  opponent.     He  fled  for  his  life,  and 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS   OF    SELF-RELIANCE.         163 

was  captured  by  a  band  of  banditti  which  infested 
the  Istrian  forests.  He  was  afterwards  arrested,  and 
sentenced  to  be  broken  alive  upon  the  wheel  at 
Vienna.  But,  upon  his  person  and  rank  being  dis- 
covered, his  sentence  was  modified  into  one  of  per- 
petual banishment  to  the  quicksilver  mines  of  Idria. 

The  count  was  betrothed  to  a  German  lady,  who 
belonged  to  one  of  the  noblest  families  in  the  coun- 
try. She  was  beautiful,  educated  and  opulent,  and 
had,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  count,  reasons  suffi- 
cient to  satisfy  an  ordinary  mind  for  dissolving 
their  engagement.  But  her  attachment  was  one  of 
the  highest  and  most  exalted  character.  Instead  of 
joining  in  the  voices  of  censure  that  fell  so  freely 
and  deservedly  on  the  count,  she  exerted  herself,  to 
the  utmost  of  her  influence,  to  procure  his  liberation. 
Failing  in  this,  she  formed  the  extraordinary  pur- 
pose of  sharing  his  sufferings,  and  of  cheering  him 
by  her  presence  in  his  toils.  Thither  she  went,  and 
in  those  dark,  dismal  mines,  so  unhealthy  and  so 
destructive  of  life,  became  his  wife.  There  her 
cheerfulness  sustained  his  spirit ;   her  constant  love 


164       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

calmed  his  soul ;  her  voice  animated  him  with  hope. 
Magnanimous  woman  !  What  courageous  love  was 
hers,  to  brave  the  sentiment  of  the  world,  to  face  the 
horrors  of  an  abode  more  gloomy  than  a  prison,  and 
to  incur  the  certainty  of  a  speedy  death,  that  she 
might,  by  the  lustres  of  her  affection,  irradiate  the 
dreary  heart  of  her  husband  ! 

In  contrast  with  this  unchiding  devotion  to  a  hus- 
band in  misfortune,  behold  Ayxa,  the  mother  of  Abo 
Abdeli,  the  Moorish  monarch,  as  she  stood  by  his 
side,  on  the  hill  of  Padul,  which  overlooks  Granada. 
The  brave  Ferdinand,  with  his  chivalric  Castilians, 
had  just  expelled  him  and  his  defeated  troops  from 
the  city.  He  had  lost  his  throne  and  his  palaces, 
and  could  not  avoid  a  flood  of  tears,  as  he  gazed,  for 
the  last  time,  on  the  beautiful  city  which  was  no 
more  to  own  him  as  its  lord.  The  sultana  beheld 
his  sorrow,  and  addressed  him  in  taunting  words, 
saying : 

"  Thou  dost  well  to  weep,  like  a  woman,  over  the 
loss  of  that  kingdom  which  thou  knewest  not  how  to 
defend  and  die  for,  like  a  man ! " 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS   OF   SELF-RELIANCE.         165 

This  bicter  reproof  was  merited,  for  the  king 
lacked  the  enthusiastic  bravery  which  had  character- 
ized his  ancestors ;  but  it  was  not  fitting  to  a  moth- 
er's lips  to  utter  it  at  that  time.  Doubtless  it  stung 
him  deeply,  increased  his  wretchedness,  and  added 
to  his  burdens,  already  too  heavy  to  be  borne.  It 
was  his  mother's  duty  to  stimulate  his  courage,  by 
soothing  his  subdued  spirit,  —  to  awaken  new  hopes 
in  his  breast,  and  rouse  his  slumbering  energies. 
This  hitter  vexation  of  the  sultana  places  her  at 
an  immeasurable  distance  from  the  exalted,  unrepin- 
ing  wife  of  the  Austrian  count. 

Learn,  then,  young  lady,  to  become  the  good, 
guardian  genius  of  the  opposite  sex.  Breathe  hope, 
vigor,  encouragement,  into  all  hearts  that  live  around 
you.  But,  to  do  this,  you  must  be  brave  yourself. 
You.  require  a  strong,  trustful,  courageous  spirit  in 
your  own  breast.  You  need  to  carefully  cultivate  it, 
by  subduing  fear,  and  laboring  to  rise  equal  to  your 
present  emergencies.  It  is  not  fear  alone,  but  fear 
unrestrained,  that  makes  a  coward ;  nor  is  bravery 
the  absence  of  fear. 


166       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR 

"  The  brave  man  is  not  he  who  feels  no  fear, 
For  that  were  stupid  and  irrational ; 
But  he  whose  noble  soul  his  fear  subdues, 
And  bravely  dares  the  danger  nature  shrinks  from.'* 

Nor  is  it  necessary  for  you  to  be  led  into  extraor- 
dinary circumstances,  to  learn  or  to  practise  courage™ 
If  it  were,  you  might  despair  of  acquiring  it,  since 

"  Small  occasions  in  the  path  of  life 
Lie  thickly  sown,  while  great  are  rarely  scattered." 

Therefore,  seek  to  be  brave  in  the  affairs  of  your 
girlhood.  Overcome  the  timidity  of  your  sex,  by 
undaunted  resolution  to  meet  and  conquer  all  diffi- 
culties that  may  arise,  and  you  will  be  the  possessor 
of  a  second  element  of  self-reliance. 

A  third  spring  of  this  essential  quality  is  a  con- 
sciousness of  ability  to  support  yourself  by  the  fruit 
of  your  own  labor. 

Listen  to  the  advice  of  a  noble  Carolinian,  Henry 
Laurens,  who  had  nursed  his  daughters  in  the  lap 
of  luxury  and  refinement,  but  who,  by  the  reverses 
of  fortune,  found  himself  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower  of 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS    OF    SELF-RELIANCE.         167 

London,  during  our  Revolutionary  war.  Writing  to 
his  children,  he  said  : 

"  It  is  my  duty  to  warn  you  to  prepare  for  the  trial 
of  earning  your  daily  bread  by  your  daily  labor. 
Fear  not  servitude.  Encounter  it,  if  it  shall  be 
necessary,  with  the  spirit  becoming  a  woman  of  an 
honest  and  pious  heart !  " 

I  have  said  it  before,  but  feel  justified  in  saying 
again,  that  the  experience  of  vast  numbers  of  tried 
and  suffering  women  justifies  this  judicious  advice, 
and  bids  every  young  woman,  whatever  her  condi- 
tion may  be,  acquire  some  trade  or  skill  by  which 
she  may  be  confident  of  earning  her  own  bread. 
Nay,  young  lady,  curl  not  that  beautiful  lip  in  proud 
contempt,  though  you  are  clad  in  silk  and  live  in  the 
halls  of  wealth  ;  for  in  many  a  dark  cellar  and  com- 
fortless garret  there  toil,  with  weary  fingers,  the 
wrecks  of  women,  who,  in  their  youth,  were  proud 
and  rich  as  you.  The  wheel  of  fortune  has  revolved, 
and,  for  plenty  and  ease,  they  have  poverty  and  pain. 
You  may  suffer  similar  reverses.  Courage  to  face  a 
descent  in  the  social  scale  you  cannot  have,  unless 


168       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

you  become  mistress  of  some  means  of  self-support 
any  more  than  a  really  brave  man  could  be  courage- 
ous amid  armed  bands,  without  a  weapon  of  defence. 
As  arms  are  necessary  for  the  display  of  courage  in 
a  soldier,  so  is  the  consciousness  of  ability  to  live  on 
the  fruits  of  her  personal  industry  essential  to  a 
woman  of  self-reliance. 

But  what  can  I  do  ?  you  inquire.  Anything  you 
attempt.  But  what  should  I  attempt  ?  Everything 
within  your  reach.  The  intellectual  Madame  De 
Genlis  could  boast  the  possession  of  thirty  various 
employments,  by  which,  if  necessary,  she  could  earn 
her  own  living.  You  do  not  need  so  many  modes 
as  this  ;  but  you  may  require,  and  can  acquire,  sev- 
eral, if  you  please.  You  can  be  very  thorough  in  the 
acquisition  of  the  elementary  studies  which  are  em- 
braced in  your  educational  course  ;  and  thus,  while 
fitting  yourself  to  act  well  your  part  in  society,  you 
may  also  be  gaining  the  power  to  live  by  teaching 
othirs  Do  you  pursue  music,  drawing,  the  lan- 
guages, as  accomplishments  ?  Be  as  perfect  in  them 
as   possible ;   use   your  knowledge   by  gratuitously 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS    OF    SELF-RELIANCE.         169 

instructing  some  humble  friend  or  neighbor,  and  it 
will  repay  your  toil  with  compound  interest,  in  the 
day  of  your  necessity ;  for  a  lady  who  is  fully  com- 
petent to  teach,  especially  the  ornamental  branches 
of  study,  is  almost  sure  to  find  profitable  employ- 
ment. 

Your  skill  in  needle-work  may  be  turned  to  simi- 
lar account.  Learn  to  use  your  needle  in  the  manu- 
facture of  every  article  that  female  fingers  can  con- 
struct. Do  not  be  dependent  on  a  milliner  for  your 
bonnet,  nor  upon  a  mantua-maker  for  your  dress. 
Acquire  their  arts  yourself.  A  few  dollars  will  pur- 
chase all  the  instruction  necessary.  It  is  a  shame 
for  any  young  lady  of  ordinary  abilities  and  good 
opportunities  not  to  learn  these  simple  arts.  Even 
if  she  is  pecuniarily  above  the  need  of  using  them, 
she  should  acquire  them,  and  put  them  to  charitable 
uses, —  like  that  ancient  matron,  who  made  coats 
and  dresses  for  the  poor.  Then,  if  the  fiery  hour  of 
calamity  overtake  her,  she  is  prepared  to  defy  its 
flames.     She  has  a  fortune  in  her  skill. 

The  factory  is  resorted  to,  by  many  young  ladies, 


170  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

as  a  suitable  place  to  maintain  themselves.  Many 
of  these  possess  superior  abilities,  and  earn  consider- 
able sums  of  money ;  respectability,  intellect,  beauty, 
and  high  moral  excellency,  characterize  them ;  nev- 
ertheless, my  honest  conviction  is,  that  life  in  a  cot- 
ton-mill is  unfavorable  to  their  best  interests.  The 
factory  has  not  given  them  their  superior  qualities. 
These  were  acquired  in  the  more  congenial  atmo- 
sphere of  a  happy  home,  and  are  nurtured,  not  by  the 
influences  of  the  cotton-mill,  but  in  spite  of  them. 
The  factory  is  unfavorable  to  a  healthful,  happy  life. 
How  can  a  young  woman  enjoy  perfect  health,  for 
any  length  of  time,  who  is  confined  in  the  hot,  im- 
pure air  of  a  spinning  or  weaving  room,  for  nearly 
fourteen  hours  of  every  day  ?  —  who  is  allowed  from 
twenty  minutes  to  half  an  hour  only  to  her  meals, 
half  of  which  has  to  be  spent  in  going  and  return- 
ing ?  How  can  she  cultivate  either  mind  or  heart, 
who  is  roused  from  her  morning  slumbers  at  half- 
past  four  or  five  o'clock,  by  the  iron-mouthed  bell, 
and  who  hurries,  half  awake,  to  her  task,  —  at  which 
she  toils   wearily  enough,  until  half-past  seven   at 


THE  SECRET   SPRINGS    OF   SELF-RELIANCE.         171 

night  ?  Even  then,  she  has  to  take  her  supper ;  for, 
during  the  last  six  hours  and  a  half  of  her  toil,  she 
tastes  no  food  !  What  time,  disposition  or  strength, 
has  such  a  girl  left  for  mental  or  religious  culture  ? 
What  opportunity  to  enjoy  social  pleasure  ?  Is  it 
surprising  that  the  wheels  of  life  drag  heavily,  under 
such  circumstances  ?  —  that  hundreds  go,  with 
broken  constitutions,  to  their  mountain  homes,  to  die 
of  lingering  consumption  ?  Nay,  it  is  not  wonderful. 
The  wonder  is,  that  the  victims  are  not  more  numer- 
ous. I  counsel  you,  therefore,  young  lady,  to  avoid 
the  factory,  if  not  in  it ;  if  already  in  it,  leave  it  and 
become  independent  of  it,  by  acquiring  some  more 
congenial  means  of  self-support,  before  you  resume 
your  post.  The  time  may  arrive  when  the  hours  of 
factory  toil  will  be  abridged  to  some  ten  hours  a  day, 
and  the  compensation  remain  adequate  to  a  respecta- 
ble support.  In  that  case,  I  might  slightly  vary  my 
counsels.  But,  even  then,  I  would  urgently  insist 
on  the  necessity  of  your  having  more  than  one 
means  of  living,  so  that  you  might  be  prepared  for 
the  emergencies  of  trying  hours. 


172       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Do  not  think,  from  these  hints,  that  I  indulge  or 
encourage  any  acrimonious  sentiments  towards  mill- 
owners.  Nay,  I  believe  many  of  them  to  be  hu- 
mane, benevolent,  godly  men,  who  would  willingly 
do  for  their  help  all  that  ought  to  be  done.  But 
such  men  do  not  control  the  system.  Greedy  capi- 
talists, who  care  more  for  a  rise  in  stocks  than  for 
human  happiness  or  divine  approval,  —  men,  whose 
creed,  learned  in  the  temples  of  Mammon,  teaches 
that 

"  He  best  the  doctrines  Christ  bequeathed  fulfils, 
Who  slays  most  hirelings  and  employs  most  mills," 

are  the  most  guilty  and  responsible  parties  for  the 
abuses  of  the  factory  system.  They  force  many, 
against  their  wishes,  to  accept  the  system  as  it  is,  or 
to  abandon  it  altogether.  These  are  the  men  whose 
inhuman  policy,  of  getting  the  largest  amount  of 
labor  for  the  smallest  amount  of  money,  renders  my 
advice  necessary, — and  they,  too,  are  the  men  whom 
God  will  judge. 

I  need  not  add  to  these  hints  on  self-support  the 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS    OF    SELF-RELIANCE.         173 

necessity  of  a  thorough  knowledge  of  domestic  and 
household  labor.  Your  own  common  sense  teaches 
you  how  sadly  embarrassed  a  dependent  woman 
must  be,  who  is  unskilful  in  the  arts  of  the  kitchen 
and  the  laundry.  Even  at  the  head  of  a  household 
with  abundant  means,  such  skill  is  indispensable  to 
quietude  and  happiness.  Your  good  sense  also 
teaches  you  to  despise  the  notion  that  such  labors 
degrade  a  woman.  She  is  degraded  who  cannot 
perform  them ;  and  even  a  poor  ignorant  Irish  girl 
will  despise  a  mistress  whose  household  skill  is  be- 
neath her  own.  Neither  can  you  imagine  that  such 
duties  are  inconsistent  with  high  intellectual  culture 
and  usefulness ;  for  the  lives  of  such  gentlewomen 
as  Madame  Roland,  who  could  prepare  her  hus- 
band's dinner  with  her  own  hands  in  the  daytime, 
and  in  the  evening  attract  the  admiration  of  the 
greatest  minds  in  France  by  her  learned  and  bril- 
liant wit ;  Mrs.  Mary  Dwight,  the  daughter  of 
Jonathan  Edwards,  who,  while  she  performed  her 
household  duties  with  industry  and  propriety,  also, 
by  her  great  mental  vigor,  awakened  the  souls  of  her 


174  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSEILOR. 

children  to  a  love  of  letters  and  virtue,  with  a  suc- 
cess which  made  her  worthy  to  be  the  mother  of 
such  a  son  as  Timothy  Dwight,  —  these,  and  scores 
besides,  prove,  beyond  dispute,  that  devotion  to  house- 
hold duties  is  not  at  variance  with  the  cultivation 
of  refined  and  liberal  learning-. 

Seek,  therefore,  young  lady,  for  skill  in  household 
labors ;  acquire  some  means  of  living  by  your  own 
labor ;  cultivate  a  courageous  spirit ;  learn  to  be  de- 
cided in  your  adhesion  to  the  voices  of  duty,  —  and 
you  will  be  fitted  to  confront,  with  a  consciousness 
of  strength  to  overcome  them,  the  most  trying  or- 
deals of  life.  Resting  on  these  qualities',  you  will 
feel  strong,  your  heart  will  be  bold,  you  will  not  sink, 
with  a  crushed  and  broken  spirit,  under  the  pressure 
of  difficulty,  —  but,  erect  and  mighty,  you  will  be 
mistress  of  your  circumstances,  and  victor  over  your 
trials.  Provided,  however,  you  trust  for  the  divine 
blessing  on  your  personal  attainments  and  efforts. 

Behold  an  ancient  Roman  tribunal,  with  its  ven- 
erable judges,  its  lictors,  its  councillors  and  its 
crowds  of  spectators.     A  man  of  benevolent  counte* 


THE    SECRET   SPRINGS    OF    SELF-RELIANCE.         175 

nance  and  lofty  dignity  stands  at  the  bar.  He  casts 
his  expressive  eyes  over  the  assembly,  as  if  looking 
for  some  sympathetic  face.  An  air  of  sadness  sud- 
denly darkening  his  features,  proclaims  his  disap- 
pointment. Not  one  familiar  friendly  face  is  there 
All  have  left  him  in  his  extremity.  The  sentence 
of  that  court  may  be  the  highest  penalty  of  law,  and 
his  admirers  and  adherents  are  unwilling  to  risk 
their  own  liberties,  by  being  present  to  encourage 
their  friend.  But  see !  the  shadow  departs.  Light 
streams  from  his  enraptured  eyes,  a  lovely  smile 
plays  upon  his  lips,  a  rich  glow  irradiates  his  counte- 
nance. His  bearing  becomes  more  fitting  to  a  tri- 
umphant conqueror  than  to  a  prisoner  liable  to  a 
violent  death.  Who  is  he?  What  is  he?  Whence 
his  power  ? 

Reader,  that  man  is  Paul  the  Apostle,  at  the 
bar  of  imperial  Rome,  to  answer  for  the  offence  of 
the  cross.  His  converts  had  forsaken  him,  and  for  a 
moment  he  felt  sad.  That  sudden  change  shall  be 
explained  by  his  own  words  to  a  beloved  friend,  to 
whom  he  wrote : 


176       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

1  At  my  first  answer,  no  man  stood  ivith  me ;  but 
all  men  forsook  mi.      Notwithstanding,  the    Lord 

STOOD  WITH  ME  AND  STRENGTHENED  ME." 

Here  is  the  glorious  secret.  All  his  eloquence,  his 
learning,  his  logical  skill,  were  insufficient  in  that 
hour.  He  looked  for  further  aid.  He  dared  not 
rely  wholly  upon  his  gifts.  But  when  his  faith  dis- 
cerned the  presence  of  God,  to  bless  his  gifts  and 
control  events,  he  felt  sure.  The  ground  became  as 
solid  rock  beneath  him.  Learn,  therefore,  young 
lady,  in  addition  to  all  other  trusts,  to  lean  on  the 
aid  of  God.  Look  for  his  energy  to  operate  through 
your  gifts  and  attainments,  and  to  give  them  their 
chief  efficiency.  Rest  not,  until  you  are  able  to  say, 
"  The  Lord  stands  with  me  !  "  Then,  though  you 
are  of  all  women  most  delicate,  weak  and  exposed, 
you  shall  stand  a  pillar  of  invincible  strength,  defy- 
ing alike  the  roaring  of  the  waves  and  the  howling 
of  the  wind.  The  springs  of  self-reliance  will  be  in 
you  indeed. 


CHAPTER  Yin. 

OF    SELF-CULTURE. 

OANNA  BAILLIE  has  a  trag- 
edy named  Ethwald,  whose 
hero  is  described  as  having,  in 
his  "  fair  opening  youth," 

11  A  heart  inclined 
To  truth  and  kindly  deeds, 
Though   somewhat  dashed  with   shades   of 

darker  hue. 
But  from  this  mixed  sea  of  good  and  ill, 
One  baleful  plant  in  dark  strength  raised  its 

head, 
O'ertopping   all  the   rest  ;    which    favoring 

circumstance 
Did  foster  up  into  a  growth  so  monstrous, 
That  underneath  its  wide  and  noxious  shade 
Died  all  the  native  plants  of  feebler  stem." 

This  passage  unveils  the  heart  of  the  readei,  as 

fully  as  it  does  that  of  the  poet's  ideal  hero.     For, 
12 


178  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

"  as  face  answers  to  face  in  a  glass,"  so  does  one 
human  heart  to  all  others.  In  all  there  is  a  living 
seed  of  good  deposited  by  that  Almighty  quickener, 
the  Holy  Ghost.  In  all,  imperious  passion,  latent 
but  potential,  dwells  like  a  torpid  worm,  awaiting 
the  warmth  of  opportunity  to  awake  and  sting  the 
soul,  and  to  corrupt  the  budding  fruits  of  virtue. 

Out  of  this  fact  springs  the  duty  and  the  necessity 
of  self-culture.  The  soil  of  the  human  heart,  and 
the  aliment  on  which  it  is  fed,  are  not  only  not  favor- 
able to  the  growth  of  the  divine  seed,  but  absolutely 
adverse  to  it,  —  while  to  the  development  of  the 
destructive  worm  they  are  precisely  adapted.  Left 
to  its  own  workings,  the  heart  is  as  sure  to  warm  its 
passions  into  a  controlling  life,  and  to  hinder  the 
vegetation  of  virtuous  fruit,  as  a  worm,  lodged  in  a 
rose-bud,  is  to  prevent  its  blooming  to  perfection. 
The  holy  seed,  it  is  true,  possesses  an  infinite  ener- 
gy, and  a  mysterious  vigor.  Nevertheless,  it  de- 
mands, as  a  condition  of  its  growth,  that,  with  careful 
and  r^siduous  diligence,  the  passions  should  be 
trai  *ed,  subdued  and  ruled,  by  the  intellect  and  con- 


SELF-CULTURE.  179 

science  of  her  who  desires  it  to  bear  the  unpurchase- 
able fruit  of  happiness  and  moral  beauty.  Nor  is 
this  a  light  task ;  for,  as  Flavel  remarks,  "  It  is 
much  easier  to  pull  many  weeds  out  of  a  garden, 
than  one  corruption  out  of  the  heart,  and  to  procure 
a  hundred  flowers  to  adorn  a  plot,  than  one  grace  to 
beautify  a  soul." 

In  extensive  museums  there  are  usually  collected 
various  specimens  of  marble  statuary.  The  rudely- 
sculptured,  grotesque  figures  of  half-civilized  art  are 
there,  looking  like  caricatures,  rather  than  resem- 
blances of  any  living  thing.  Ranging  from  these 
unseemly  offsprings  of  an  untutored  genius,  there 
are  images  in  every  stage  of  perfection  and  imper- 
fection, up  to  the  loveliest  and  highest  creations  of 
the  artist,  inspired  by  the  purest  conceptions  of 
beauty.  But  all  these  varied  forms  were  once  un- 
hewn and  shapeless  portions  of  the  quarry.  They 
owe  their  several  differences  of  form  and  figure  to 
the  diversity  of  skill  employed  in  giving  them  their 
respective  shapes.  Had  the  chisel  of  Canova  or 
Chantrey  wrought  on  the  block  of  stone  which  ruder 


180       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

artists  converted  into  a  resemblance  so  obscure  that 
the  spectator  can  hardly  decide  whether  it  represents 
a  monkey  or  a  man,  it  had  become  a  form  so  lifelike 
and  beautiful  as  to  awaken  emotions  of  admiration 
and  sentiments  of  heroism,  pity  or  love. 

Society  presents  similar  varieties  of  human  char- 
acter, and  for  reasons  somewhat  corresponding. 
One  woman  is  vain,  and  answers  the  poet's  de- 
scription : 

"  She  who  only  finds  her  self-esteem 
In  others'  admiration  begs  an  alms, 
Depends  on  others  for  her  daily  food, 
And  is  the  very  servant  of  her  slaves." 

Another  is  artful,  capricious  and  unprincipled.  Sel- 
fish and  unlovely,  she  courts  the  love  of  others  for 
her  own  advantage  or  pleasure.  Finding  herself 
despised  a  stream  of  bitter  hate  flows  through  her 
heart,  —  a  pitiless  tide  of  sorrow,  which  compels  the 
cry, 

"But  now  the  wave  of  life  comes  darkly  on, 
And  hideous  passion  tears  my  aching  heart.'* 

Others  are  given  tc  slander ;  serpents  who 


SELF -CULTURE.  181 

"  In  the  path  of  social  life 
Do  bask  their  spotted  skins  in  Fortune's  sun, 
And  sting  the  soul !    Ay,  till  its  healthful  frame 
Is  changed  to  secret,  festering,  sore  disease, 
So  deadly  is  the  wound." 

Others,  again,  lack  modesty,  or  sincerity,  or  purity 
of  spirit.  They  are  bold,  false,  ignorant  and  dis- 
gusting. On  the  other  hand,  there  stand  those 
women  who  are  the  models  of  their  sex.  Refined  in 
feeling,  pure  in  heart,  gentle  in  manner,  of  noble  and 
exalted  minds,  they  command  the  admiration  and 
secure  the  love  of  all  beholders.  They  are  lovely 
images  of  the  divine  ideal  of  woman ;  their  character 
is  the  offspring  of  that  sacred  seed  whose  ripened 
fruit  is  a  complete  resemblance  to  Him  who  is  the 
model  of  all  human  perfection. 

All  these  women  were  substantially  the  same 
when  as  yet  they  lay  cradled  in  maternal  arms. 
Whence  the  difference  in  the  years  of  their  matur- 
ity ?  It  lies  in  the  diversity  of  their  culture.  While 
one  class  carefully  repelled  every  evil  motion  of  their 
spirits,  and  studiously  cherished  every  desire  for 
good,  the  other  left  the  seed  of  good  neglected,  per- 


182       THE  YOUNG  LADY  's  COUNSELLOR. 

mitted  their  evil  passions  to  gain  strength  by  indul 
gence,  until,  like  tares  m  a  field  of  grain,  they  over- 
run her  soul.  The  lovely  and  the  good  are  what 
they  are  through  a  faithful  improvement  of  heavenly 
grace  deposited  within  them ;  the  evil  are  evil 
because  they  neglected  such  self-cultivating  efforts. 

Would  my  young  reader  belong  to  the  model  class 
of  women  ?  Does  she  desire  to  rank  with  those 
females  whom  God  and  man  delight  to  honor  ? 
Then  she  must  turn  the  eyes  of  her  mind  upon  her 
self,  as  the  sculptor  gazes  on  a  choice  block  of  mar- 
ble, and  resolves  to  shape  it  into  the  beauteous  ideal 
which  is  dimly  floating  in  his  mind.  So,  also,  she 
must  resolve,  by  the  aid  of  grace,  to  make  for  herself 
a  character  in  purity  like  the  cherubim,  and  in  love- 
liness like  the  seraphim. 

But  what  if  you  have  hitherto  neglected  this 
duty  ?  If  the  seed  of  pride,  of  ambition,  of  unholy 
love  or  of  bitter  hate,  has  already  germinated,  and 
covered  your  soul  with  its  dark  and  poisonous 
shadows  ?  Is  your  case  hopeless,  therefore  ?  Nay ! 
Though  by  early  culture  the  soul   is  most  easily 


SELF-CDLTURE.  183 

moulded  to  virtue,  still  it  is  never  too  late  to  improve 
it,  so  long  as  the  mind  retains  strength  to  form  a 
noble  purpose.  However  conscious  of  unloveliness 
you  may  be,  1  summon  you,  nevertheless,  to  the 
sacred  task  of  self-cultivation,  in  the  language  of 
Jane  de  Montfort  to  her  brother,  who  had  yielded 
himself  a  slave  to  the  passion  of  hatred  : 

"  Call  up  thy  noble  spirit, 
Rouse  all  the  generous  energy  of  virtue, 
And  with  the  strength  of  Heaven-endued  man 
Repel  the  hideous  foe  !     Be  great,  he  valiant ! 
O,  if  thou  couldst,  e'en  shrouded  as  thou  art 
In  all  the  sad  infirmities  of  nature, 
What  a  most  noble  creature  wouldst  thou  be  !  " 

If  a  young  lady  is  about  to  work  a  piece  of  em- 
broidery, she  is  at  great  pains  to  procure  the  best  of 
patterns.  This  she  carefully  studies,  until  she  ob- 
tains a  clear  conception  of  the  figures  she  is  to  pro- 
duce by  the  magic  of  her  own  needle.  Without  this 
idea  of  her  task,  her  production  would  probably  be 
inferior  and  worthless. 

Self-oulture  implies  a  similar  apprehension  of  its 
end.     A  distinct  vision  of  the  work  to  be  done,  and 


184       THE  YOUNG  LADY'o  COUNSELLOR.  , 

how  it  is  to  be  accomplished,  must  be  before  the 
mind,  or  every  effort  will  be  like  an  arrow  aimlessly 
shot  into  the  air.  What,  then,  is  the  appropriate  aim 
of  all  attempts  at  self-cultivation  ?  Is  it  not  the 
highest  and  most  harmonious  development  of  your 
entire  being,  physical,  intellectual  and  moral  ?  It 
comprehends  the  health  of  the  body,  the  expansion 
of  the  intellect,  the  purification  of  the  heart.  It 
guards  the  health,  because  a  feeble  body  acts  power- 
fully on  the  mind,  and  is  a  clog  to  its  progress.  It 
cherishes  the  intellect,  because  it  is  the  glory  of  a 
human  being.  It  trains  the  moral  nature,  because,  if 
that  is  weak  or  misdirected,  a  blight  falls  on  the  soul, 
and  a  curse  rests  upon  the  body.  As  each  faculty 
reacts  favorably  or  unfavorably  upon  all  the  others, 
true  self-culture  attends  with  a  due  proportion  of 
care  to  each.  It  strives  to  restrain  one  power  whose 
action  is  too  intense,  and  to  stimulate  another  which 
is  torpid.  Thus  by  degrees  the  several  faculties  are 
balanced,  —  they  act  in  delightful  harmony  with 
each  other,  and  the  result  is  the  healthful  progress 


SELF-CULTURE.  185 

of  the  pei son  toward  the  highest  point  of  attainable 
perfection. 

Self-culture  includes,  as  just  stated,  a  proper  caie 
for  the  health  of  the  body.  So  much  has  been  writ- 
ten on  this  subject,  that  I  forbear  enlarging  upon  it, 
except  to  say,  that  a  resolution  to  be  careless  of  your 
health  is  a  purpose  to  be  both  stunted  in  intellect 
and  miserable  in  feeling.  You  might  as  wisely  ex- 
pect to  enjoy  life  in  a  dilapidated  and  ruined  habita- 
tion, which  affords  free  admission  to  the  freezing 
blast  and  the  pitiless  rain,  as  to  be  happy  in  a  body 
ruined  by  self-indulgence.  Is  not  the  body  the 
house  of  the  soul  ?  Can  its  mysterious  tenant  find 
rest  and  unmixed  joy  within  its  chambers,  if  daily 
exposed  to  sharp  and  shivering  shocks  through  its 
aching  joints  or  quivering  nerves  ?  Impossible  ! 
absolutely  impossible !  Attend,  therefore,  young 
lady,  to  your  health,  as  a  condition  of  happiness ; 
and  that  you  may  do  so  successfully,  consult  your 
common  sense  in  relation  to  many  popular  injurious 
habits,  and  some  simple  work  on  physiology,  that 
you  may  learn  those  laws  of  your  physical  organiza* 


186       THE  YOUNG  LADY  S  COUNSELLOR. 

tion,  upon  whose  observance  so  much  of  the  true 
pleasure  of  life  depends. 

Self-culture  also  implies  suitable  efforts  tc 
strengthen  and  expand  the  intellect,  by  reading,  by 
reflection,  and  by  writing  down  your  thoughts. 
Reading  suitable  books  stores  the  mind  with  facts 
and  principles ;  reflection  converts  those  facts  and 
principles  into  a  real  mental  aliment,  and  thus  quick- 
ens the  soul  into  growth  ;  while  writing  tends  to 
precision  of  thought  and  beauty  of  expression. 
Every  young  lady  should,  therefore,  read  much, 
reflect  more,  and  write  as  frequently  and  carefully 
as  she  has  opportunity. 

The  principal  object  of  reading,  with  most  young 
persons,  is  pleasure.  They  seek  for  excited  sensi- 
bilities and  a  charmed  imagination.  Hence,  novels 
and  poetry  form  the  staple  of  their  reading.  Grave 
history,  graver  science,  and  dull  philosophy,  they 
eschew,  while  they  actually  abhor  the  sober  pages 
of  theology.  The  novel  is  well  thumbed  ;  the  poem, 
if  it  is  not  too  Miltonic,  is  well  turned  down  at  the 
corrers;  but  poor  Gibbon,  Mosheim,  Newton,  Buf- 


SELF-CULTURE.  187 

fon  Butler,  Blair  and  Wesley,  lie  quietly  in  some 
snug  corner,  robed  in  cobwebs,  beside  the  dust-cov- 
ered and  despised  Bible.  What  is  the  consequence  ? 
Obscured,  feeble  intellect,  a  weakened  memory,  an 
extravagant  and  fanciful  imagination,  benumbed  sens- 
ibilities, a  demoralized  conscience,  and  a  corrupted 
heart !  A  troop  of  evils  more  to  be  dreaded  by  a 
young  lady  than  the  advance  of  an  invading  army 
—  for  soldiers  only  kill  the  body,  but  these  strangle 
the  immortal  mind. 

Would  you  admit  a  thief  to  your  cabinet  of  jew- 
els ?  Would  you  invite  a  base  profligate  to  your 
society  ?  Nay.  The  question  itself  pains  you. 
Pardon  me,  lady,  —  I  would  not  willingly  inflict  the 
slightest  wound  on  your  spirit,  —  but  I  must  deal 
frankly  with  you,  or  forfeit  my  claims  of  friendship. 
Hearken,  therefore,  to  my  statement.  If  you  are  an 
indiscriminating  novel  reader,  you  admit  both  thieves 
and  profligates,  not  merely  to  your  society,  but  to 
your  most  intimate  companionship,  —  yea,  into  the 
palace  of  your  soul.  Novels  rob  you  of  a  higher 
pleasure  than  they  afford,  since  the  same  attention  to 


188  THE    5T0UNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

solid  reading  would  procure  you  a  loftier,  purer  pleas- 
ure. Hence,  they  are  thieves  who  rob  you  of  real 
delight.  Then,  what  are  their  heroes,  chiefly,  but 
villains,  robbers,  profligates  and  murderers  ?  These 
you  take  to  your  fellowship,  listen  to  their  language, 
grow  interested  in  their  adventures,  and  imbibe  a 
portion  of  their  spirit;  for  all  this  is  necessarily 
implied  in  the  devotion  with  which  your  tossed  and 
excited  mind  follows  them  in  the  windings  of  their 
history.  Can  your  soul  be  a  bright  mirror,  in  which 
none  but  pure  images  are  reflected,  after  such  read- 
ing ?  Can  they  leave  you  wholly  free  from  sympa- 
thy with  impure  thought  ?  Can  you  escape  contam- 
ination ?  Nay.  As  soon  might  the  mirror  be  un- 
dimmed  in  the  densest  fog,  or  a  person  walk  unde- 
filed  through  an  overflowing  ditch. 

Novels  are  also  injurious  to  your  religious  inter- 
ests. They  create  a  loathing  at  the  bare  idea  of  a 
spiritual  life,  and  bind  you  in  chains  to  a  life  of  sin. 
They  fit  you  to  resist  the  awakenings  of  the  Holy 
Spirit'.  A  love  for  them  often  becomes  the  rallying- 
point  of  conflict  between  Christ  and  sin.     As,  in  a 


SELF-CULTURE.  189 

certain  revival,  two  persons  were  awakened  who 
were  inveterate  novel  readers.  Their  favorite  books 
stood  in  the  way  of  their  conversion.  They  were 
willing  to  be  Christians,  if  their  idol  could  remain 
undestroyed.  This,  of  course,  was  impossible,  and 
they  saw  it.  One  of  them  yielded,  gave  up  her 
novels,  and  became  a  joyful  convert.  The  other 
determined  to  cleave  to  her  favorite  books,  whether 
she  obtained  religion  or  not,  and  was  soon  freed  from 
serious  feelings.  She  preferred  novels  to  Christ,  and 
Christ  forsook  her  !  Nor  is  she  alone.  Thousands 
have  made  the  same  choice,  and  have  experienced  a 
similar  fate.  Reader,  will  you  abandon  novels  ? 
By  all  your  'desire  for  intellectual  and  moral  im- 
provement, I  beg  you  to  forsake  them  at  once,  wholly, 
and  forever. 

When  you  read,  you  should  do  so  for  the  purpose 
of  gaining  knowledge,  or  to  invigorate  your  intellect, 
or  to  stimulate  your  moral  faculties,  according  to  the 
character  of  the  book  before  you.  In  either  case,  do 
not  hasten  over  the  paragraphs  as  the  high-mettled 
racer  rushes  along  the  course.     After  every  sentence, 


190      THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

pause,  close  your  eyes,  or  lift  them  from  the  book, 
and  repeat  your  author's  thought  in  your  mind.  In- 
quire if  you  understand  his  meaning,  if  he  states  the 
truth,  or  if  he  reasons  correctly.  Then  proceed  to 
the  next  sentence,  and  repeat  this  mental  process. 
In  this  way,  you  will  taste  a  hitherto  unknown  pleas- 
ure, and  derive  vast  profit  from  the  books  you  read. 
As  to  the  best  books  for  your  use,  you  had  better 
consult  some  judicious  friends.  Your  parents,  your 
pastor,  or  your  teacher,  will  give  you  all  necessary 
advice  on  this  point. 

There  is  no  book  so  well  adapted  to  improve  both 
the  head  and  the  heart  as  the  Bible.  It  is  a  tried 
book :  its  utility  is  demonstrated  by  experience ;  its 
necessity  is  confessed  by  all  who  have  studied  the 
wants  of  human  nature ;  it  has  wrung  reluctant 
praises  from  the  lips  of  its  foes.  Adopt  it  for  ycur 
daily  companion.  Read  it  thoroughly,  patiently, 
carefully.  Read  a  portion  of  it  daily,  on  your  knees, 
pausing  at  each  sentence,  and  asking  its  great 
Author  to  teach  you  its  import,  to  stamp  it  on  your 
heart,  and  to  make   it  a  means  of  life  and  health  to 


SELF-CULTURE.  191 

your  soul.  Do  this,  and  you  will  shortly  learn  to 
set  a  price  upon  its  worth  far  above  the  costliest 
rubies. 

Your  moral  faculties  also  demand  the  most  careful 
attention.  Indeed,  your  first  and  principal  care  must 
be  in  this  direction,  since  your  happiness  depends 
more  upon  their  healthful  condition  than  upon  the 
state  of  your  body  and  intellect.  With  disordered 
moral  faculties,  you  will  be  as  a  ship  without  a 
helm,  dashed  on  bars  and  rocks,  at  the  will  of  winds 
and  waves. 

The  secret  of  moral  self-culture  lies  in  training  the 
will  to  decide  according  to  the  fiat  of  an  enlightened 
conscience.  When  a  question  of  good  or  ill  is 
brought  before  the  mind  for  its  action,  its  several  fac- 
ulties are  appealed  to.  The  intellect  perceives,  com- 
pares, and  reflects  on  the  suggestions.  The  emo- 
tions, desires  and  passions,  are  addressed,  and  solic- 
ited to  indulgence.  The  conscience  pronounces  its 
verdict  of  right  or  wrong,  on  the  proposed  act. 
Then  comes  the  self-determining  will,  coinciding 
either  with  the  conscience  or   the  emotions.     The 


192       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

end  of  right  moral  culture  is  to  habituate  it  to  decide 
against  the  passions,  desires  and  emotions,  whenever 
they  oppose  the  conscience,  —  thus  establishing  the 
supremacy  of  divine  claims  over  the  soul. 

The  "  magician  of  the  north,"  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
has  made  tne  name  of  Jeanie  Deans  a  household 
word.  The  real  name  of  this  noble  girl  was  Helen 
Walker,  the  orphan  daughter  of  a  Scottish  farmer. 
Her  younger  sister,  Isabella,  whom  in  childhood  she 
had  supported  by  her  own  industry,  and  whom  she 
tenderly  loved,  was  arrested  for  the  murder  of  her 
babe,  born  out  of  wedlock.  When  the  day  of  trial 
arrived,  Helen  was  told  that  her  sister's  life  was  in 
her  power.  If  she  would  testify  that  she  had  known 
Isabella  to  make  even  the  slightest  preparations  for 
its  birth,  the  scale  would  turn  in  her  favor,  and  her 
life  be  saved  from  the  gallows.  All  her  sisterly  affec- 
tion, all  her  family  pride,  all  her  fear  of  the  pros- 
pective ignominy  growing  from  a  connection  with  an 
executed  felon,  were  thus  appealed  to.  But  her 
sense  of  duty  triumphed.  Without  a  moment's  hes- 
itation, she  gave  this  lofty  answer : 


SELF-CULTURE.  193 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  swear  to  a  falsehood  ; 
and,  whatever  may  be  the  consequence,  I  will  give 
my  oath  according  to  my  conscience." 

Noble  woman  !  •  How  supreme  was  the  authority 
of  duty  in  her  soul !  Between  a  temptation  and  a 
wrong  volition  in  her  mind,  there  stood  a  stern 
impossibility  !  That  her  decision  sprang  from  any 
lack  of  strong  sisterly  affection,  cannot  be  imagined. 
Her  heroic  journey  on  foot  from  Scotland  to  Lon- 
don, her  plea  for  her  sister's  life,  when,  clad  in  her 
simple  plaid,  she  gained  an  audience  before  the  Duke 
of  Argyle,  and  her  pure  joy  at  her  sister's  pardon, 
combine  to  place  this  question  beyond  dispute,  and 
to  prove  that  her  decision  was  the  offspring  of  a 
will  trained  to  acknowledge  the  supremacy  of  con- 
science. 

Let  us  place  Helen  in  contrast  with  another  wo- 
man, whose  character,  in  many  respects,  deserves 
much  praise.  I  mean  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  sister 
tc  the  unfortunate  King  Louis  of  France.  When 
the  Parisian  mob  broke  into  the  royal  palace,  they 

demanded  the  head  of  the  queen,  whom  they  hated 
13 


194       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

most  sincerely.  "  Where,  where  is  she  ?  We  will 
have  her  head  !  "  was  their  terrible  question,  as  they 
met  the  princess  in  one  of  the  chambers. 

"I  am  the  queen,"  replied  Elizabeth. 

"  She  is  not  the  queen,"  cried  her  attendants,  as 
they  rushed  forward  to  rescue  her  from  their  mur- 
derous hands. 

*  For  the  love  of  God,"  exclaimed  the  princess, 
14  do  not  undeceive  these  men !  Is  it  not  better  that 
they  should  shed  my  blood  than  that  of  my  sister  ?  " 

The  self-devotion  of  this  act  is  certainly  admira- 
ble ;  but  its  morality  sinks  far  into  the  shade,  beside 
the  resplendent  truthfulness  of  Jeanie  Deans.  It 
was  noble  to  offer  her  life  to  save  a  sister,  but  not 
right  to  violate  the  law  of  truth  for  that  purpose. 
The  answer  of  the  lost  Constantine,  in  Joanna 
Baillie's  tragedy,  to  Valeria,  when  she  hinted  her 
purpose  not  to  survive  his  death,  is  in  point  here. 
To  her  he  said, 

"  It  is  not  well,  it  is  not  holy.     No ! 
O  no,  my  noble  love,  mine  honored  love  ! 
Give  to  thy  fallen  lord  all  that  the  soul 
To  widowed  love  may  give.     But  oh,  stop  there  I  " 


SELF-CULTURE.  195 

The  deceit  of  the  princess  merits  the  same  reply, 
and  proves  that  her  will  was  not  completely  sub- 
jected to  the  control  of  an  enlightened  conscience. 

Here,  then,  you  discover  the  nature  of  your  great 
and  difficult  work.  And  is  it  not  a  high  and  worthy 
task  to  place  God  and  right  on  the  throne  of  the 
soul  ?  Will  you  not  engage  in  it  with  all  the  vigor 
of  your  spirit  —  with  all  the  might  of  your  nature? 
If  you  say  "  I  will,"  then  suffer  me  to  add,  that  you 
must  diligently  enlighten  your  conscience  by  the 
study  of  God's  law,  and  strengthen  your  will  by  con- 
stant efforts,  in  the  daily  aUs  of  life,  to  subordinate 
the  feelings  to  its  decisions.  You  must  never  permit 
a  feeling,  even  if  harmless,  to  grow  into  a  controlling 
impulse  ;  for  just  in  proportion  as  impulses  strength- 
en, the  will  is  weakened  and  overborne.  Hence  the 
impulses  must  be  habitually  restrained  by  the  com- 
mands of  the  will. 

To  illustrate  my  meaning ;  suppose  yourself  sail- 
ing in  a  boat.  A  sudden  flaw  of  the  wind  causes 
her  to  lurch,  so  that  the  gunwale  is  almost  sub- 
merged.    You  feel  an  impulse  arising  from  your 


196       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

fears  to  spring  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  boat.  By- 
doing  so,  you  increase  the  danger,  and  probably  cap- 
size the  boat.  Or,  you  are  riding  in  a  carriage. 
The  driver  leaves  his  seat.  The  reins  are  beyond 
your  reach.  The  horses  move  on  without  a  driver. 
You  are  alarmed.  An  impulse  moves  you  to  scream, 
and  hold  out  your  arms  for  aid.  Your  screams  set 
the  horses  into  a  run,  and  what  might  have  been 
remedied,  had  you  been  silent,  becomes  a  sad,  ruin- 
ous disaster.  In  either  case,  you  should  resist  your 
impulse ;  restrain  it  by  a  resolute  refusal  to  submit 
to  it.  You  can  do  this,  for  there  is  not  a  faculty  of 
mmd  or  body  which  the  will  is  not  capable  of  con- 
trolling. But  it  is  only  by  habituating  the  mind  to 
reflect,  and  the  will  to  command,  on  right  principles, 
in  all  things  great  and  small,  that  its  power  can  be 
established.  And,  in  moral  self-culture,  this  is  the 
grand  point  to  which  your  mightiest  efforts  must  be 
directed. 

One  condition  of  success,  in  all  endeavors  after 
self-improvement,  is  the  avoidance  of  everything 
which  tends  to  strengthen  evil  dispositions  or  desires. 


SELF-CULTURE.  197 

Dress,  for  example,  by  being  ornamental  and  fash- 
ionable fosters  pride  and  vanity,  is  unfavorable  to 
economy,  occupies  too  much  time,  and  leads  to  many 
other  ills.  Dancing,  cards,  and  other  fashionable 
amusements,  awaken  the  various  passions,  weaken 
the  power  of  conscience,  and  create  a  positive  disrel- 
ish for  the  sober  pursuits  and  graver  ends  of  human 
life.  What,  then,  will  self-culture  avail,  if  these 
things  are  not  given  up  ?  You  might  as  easily 
extinguish  a  fire,  which  is  fed  by  streams  of  oil,  with 
tiny  cups  of  water,  as  to  restrain  the  growth  of  your 
propensities,  while  indulging  in  sinful  amusements 
and  silly  fashions.  To  gain  moral  distinction  and 
serene  joy,  you  must  wholly  abandon  the  former ; 
and  in  regard  to  the  latter,  simplicity  and  neatness 
are  more  tasteful  and  beautiful  than  ornament  and 
show.  She  who  would  acquire  the  highest  and  most 
attractive  loveliness  must  walk  by  the  rule  of  those 
ancient  women  "who  trusted  in  God,"  and  after  tte 
counsels  of  Peter,  who  said  to  the  women  of  his  age: 
"  Whose  adorning  let  it  not  he  that  outward  adorn- 
ing of  plaiting  the  hair,  and  of  wearing  of  gold,  or 


198  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

of  putting  on  of  apparel;  hut  let  it  be  in  the  orna- 
ment OF  A  MEEK  AND  QUIET  SPIRIT." 

Imagine  the  spectacle  of  a  light  boat  floating  gayly 
over  a  wide  sunlit  sea.  Its  sole  passenger  is  a  lovely 
lady  who  appears  to  be  suddenly  wakening  from 
sleep.  Her  hand  is  stretched  out  to  grasp  the  string 
of  a  magnificent  pearl  necklace,  which,  during  her 
sleep,  became  unfastened.  One  end  is  still  hanging 
about  her  neck,  the  other  is  loosely  dangling  over 
the  water.  Pearl  after  pearl  has  slipped  off  into  the 
deep  abyss,  until  there  are  but  few  remaining.  The 
expression  on  the  lady's  brow  is  sad  and  self 
reproachful.  Each  lost  pearl  reproves  her;  each 
remaining  one  reminds  her  of  those  which  are  gone  ; 
while  several  more  must  fall,  before  her  hand  can 
reach  the  string  to  save  the  small  remainder. 

Do  you  perceive  the  idea  embodied  in  this  beauti- 
ful spectacle  ?  It  is,  that  if  the  opportunities  of 
early  life  for  self-improvement  are  wasted  in  idle 
day-dreams,  the  loss  can  never  be  repaired.  Lost 
opportunities  are  sunken  pearls.     Young  life  spent 


SELF-CULTURE.  199 

in  self-neglect  will  bring  self-reproach  in  later  years. 
Then  you  will  cry, 

"  Untaught  in  youth  my  heart  to  tame, 
My  springs  of  life  were  poisoned." 

opend  your  early  years  in  frivolous  pleasures,  and  at 
your  tomb  it  shall  be  said  of  you, 

"Her  life  had  been  quaffed  too  quickly,  and  she  found 
The  dregs  were  wormwood  !  " 

Begin,  therefore,  young  lady,  to  labor  upon  your- 
self with  a  diligence  worthy  of  so  great  an  end. 
Aim  to  develop  yourself  physically,  intellectually, 
and  morally,  to  the  extent  of  your  ability.  Do  it, 
depending  on  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ,  —  or,  as  St. 
Paul  says,  "looking  unto  Jesus;"  for,  without 
Christ,  you.  "can  do  nothing."  Begin  to-day,  for 
this  is  your  only  certain  opportunity. 

"This  moment 
Is  precious  as  the  life  of  man !     Who  knows 
If  from  the  Judge's  hand  a^eady  fall  not 
The  last  scant  drops  for  thee  ?  " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME. 

HERE  is  not  a  female  name  in 
history  that  reflects  so  much  dis- 
honor on  your  sex  as  the  Roman 
Tullia,  the  wife  of  Lucius  Tar- 
y  quinius.  She  left  no  natural  tie 
'unviolated,  that  she  might  accomplish 
her  ambitious  purposes.  A  sister,  a 
husband  and  a  father,  were  sacrificed  to 
her  passion.  But  the  crowning  act  of 
her  vileness  was  the  shameful  indignity 
with  which  she  treated  her  father's  dead 
body.  It  lay  across  the  street,  weltering  in  blood. 
Her  charioteer  reined  up  his  horses,  lest  he  should 
drive  them  over  the  royal  corpse.  "  Drive  on ! " 
cried  the  incensed  Tullia,  in  a  voice  which  made  the 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME.         201 

horrified  driver  tremble.  He  obeyed ;  and,  as  the 
wheels  of  her  chariot  bounded  over  the  corpse,  the 
father's  blood  spirted  upon  the  daughter's  dress. 
The  Eomans  expressed  their  horror  of  this  inhuman, 
unfilial  act,  by  naming  the  street  Vicus  Sceleratus,  or 
Wicked  Street.  Her  name  is  synonymous  with) 
infamy,  in  the  mind  of  every  reader  of  ancient  his- 
tory. 

I  know  you  shrink  disgusted  from  her  character 
Every  humane  and  filial  feeling  in  your  breast 
revolts  at  her  image.  This  is  well.  But  it  does  not 
prove  you  wholly  free  from  some  participation  in  a 
crime  like  hers.  Not  that  I  surmise  you  to  bear  the 
smallest  degree  of  resemblance  to  her  in  cruelty  or 
inhumanity.  No.  You  have  too  much  refinement 
of  feeling,  tenderness,  and  self-respect,  for  such  a 
supposition.  But  Tullia's  crimes  are  crimsoned  by 
the  fact  of  their  being  committed  against  a  sister,  a 
husband,  a  father.  She  stifled  the  sweetest  voices 
of  her  nature.  She  crushed  the  dearest  affections 
of  the  heart.  She  trampled  upon  the  strongest  ties 
that  bind  human  beings  together.     She  immolated 


202  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

within  herself,  every  beauty  of  the  soul,  that  she 
might  gratify  the  insatiate  demands  of  her  ambition. 
And  may  not  these  things  be  done  by  young  ladies 
who  shiver  at  the  bare  recital  of  the  mode  through 
which  she  displayed  the  workings  of  her  unfilial  and 
unsisterly  heart  ?  What  shall  be  said  of  that 
daughter  who  treats  a  mother  with  contempt,  and  a 
father  with  disregard  ?  What  of  her,  who  idly 
wastes  her  time,  and  leaves  an  aged  or  a  feeble 
mother  to  toil  unaided  in  domestic  duties  ?  What  of 
her,  whose  insufferable  temper  destroys  the  happi- 
ness of  the  family  circle,  who  tyrannizes  over  her 
brothers  and  sisters,  whose  wastefulness  and  vanity 
exhaust  a  father's  means,  and  burden  him  with  care 
that  crushes  his  soul  ?  Or  of  her,  who,  despising  all 
parental  counsel  and  authority,  wilfully  and  blindly 
rushes  into  forbidden  and  dangerous  society,  thereby 
inflicting  pangs  more  painful  than  the  dagger's 
stroke  upon  the  anguished  spirits  of  her  father  and 
mother  ?  Are  such  young  ladies  wholly  free  from 
the  sin  of  Tullia  ?  Nay !  She  violated  filial  and  sis- 
terly ties  ;  they  do  the  same.     Thus  far  they  resem- 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME.         203 

ble  each  other.  And  there  are  some,  whose  secret 
conduct  so  poisons  the  springs  of  life  in  their  parents, 
as  to  hurry  them  prematurely  and  sorrowfully  to  the 
grave.  Such  girls  certainly  partake  largely  of  Tul- 
lia's  spirit,  and  justly  merit  the  severest  reprobation. 
Earth  has  no  more  hateful  object  than  an  unfilial 
child ;  nor  is  there  anything  which  the  sentiment  of 
mankind  so  severely  censures  and  despises  as  in- 
gratitude in  a  daughter.     When  known,  she  is 

"  Scorned,  hooted,  mocked ! 
Scorned  by  the  very  fools  who  most  admired 
Her  worthless  heart." 

On  the  other  hand,  how  beautiful  is  filial  love ! 
How  admirable  is  a  daughter's  gratitude !  Behold 
an  affecting  example,  in  a  scene  that  occurred  some 
.seventy  years  ago.  See,  in  a  scantily  furnished 
chamber,  a  patriarchal  man,  with  his  wife,  an  aged 
and  feeble  dame.  On  both,  time  has  set  deep  seals. 
Their  faces  are  wrinkled,  their  hair  is  gray,  the 
palsy  of  feebleness  is  on  their  limbs,  and  they  sit 
upon  their  straight- backed  chairs,  dependent  on  the 
attentions  of  an  only  daughter. 


204       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

And  there  she  sits  in  gloomy  silence,  gazing  on 
the  cheerless  grate.  She  is  young,  but  grave  be- 
yond her  years.  Why  is  she  so  sad  ?  Alas  !  she 
has  ample  reason  for  sorrow.  Her  hands  have  been 
+he  support  of  her  parents;  but  it  is  a  season  of 
public  distress,  and  work  has  failed.  The  last  crust 
has  been  eaten,  the  last  stick  of  wood  burned,  the 
last  penny  expended.  Dread  starvation  stares  he- 
and  her  parents  in  the  face.  But  see !  A  ray  of 
sunshine  darts  from  her  tearful  eyes.  Her  face 
lights  up,  for  a  thought  of  We  has  suddenly  found 
birth  in  her  heart.  "With  silent  haste  she  robes  her- 
self in  her  well-worn  shawl,  and  leaves  the  chamber. 
Let  us  follow  her. 

Her  steps  are  rapid,  and  directed  toward  the  prin- 
cipal street  of  the  city.  She  pauses  before  a  den- 
tist's office.  She  had  heard  that  he  had  offered 
three  guineas  for  every  sound  front  tooth  that  the 
owner  would  permit  him  to  extract.  Her  loving 
heart  had  determined  to  sacrifice  tier  teeth  to  save 
ner  aged  parents  from  death,  and  she  *  here  to  bear 


THE  YOTJNG  LADY  AT  HOME.         205 

the  pain.  Entering  the  office,  she  offers  the  dentist 
all  her  front  teeth,  at  three  guineas  for  each  tooth. 

"  But  why  do  you  sacrifice  all  your  front  teeth, 
young  lady  ? "  the  dentist  inquires,  astonished  that 
so  young*  and  pretty  a  girl,  should  make  such  a  pro- 
posal. 

With  a  fluttering  heart,  she  tells  her  simple  story, 
fearful  lest  the  dentist  should  refuse  to  make  the 
purchase.  Fortunately,  he  is  a  man  of  feeling.  His 
heart  is  touched, —  tears  fill  his  eyes  ;  he  opens  his 
purse,  gives  her  ten  guineas,  and  refuses  to  touch  a 
single  tooth.  Filial  love  has  conquered,  and  the 
happy  daughter  hastens  to  comfort  the  desponding 
spirits  of  her  aged  parents. 

Behold  yet  one  more  example.  An  aged  man 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  revolutionary  murderers  at 
Paris,  and  the  sword  was  already  uplifted  to  destroy 
him.  Hushing  through  the  mob,  his  daughter, 
Mademoiselle  de  Sombreuil,  threw  herself  upon 
his  neck,  and  cried, 

"  Hold  your  hands,  barbarous  wretches  !  He  is 
my  father  !  "     And  then  she  pleaded,  with  floods  of 


206       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

tears,  and  with  all  the  eloquence  of  love,  for  his  life. 
A  monster  in  the  besotted  crowd  cried  out, 

"  Drink  the  blood  of  the  aristocrats,  and  save 
your  father ! " 

The  girl  shuddered  at  this  revolting  proposal,  and 
instinctively  retreated  a  few  paces.  But  the  savage 
glances  of  the  mob  assured  her  that  her  venerable 
father  must  pQrish,  unless  she  accepted  the  loath- 
some conditions.  The  test  was  terrible,  but  love 
triumphed.  She  took  the  proffered  glass,  and  swal- 
lowed its  contents.     Her  father  was  saved. 

Such  heroic  love  as  this  commands  your  highest 
admiration.  It  should  stimulate  you  to  its  imitation. 
Not  that  you  will  ever  have  opportunity  for  such 
extraordinary  proofs  as  these  two  ladies  gave  of  their 
affection ;  but  you  are  bound  to  manifest  the  same 
spirit,  in  all  your  deportment  toward  your  parents. 
You  should  study  to  anticipate  and  obey  their  slight- 
est wishes ;  address  them  in  tones  and  words  of 
respectful  affection;  never  disgrace  yourself  by 
uttering  an  unkind  word  to  either  of  them ;  make 
them  your  confidants ;  keep  nothing  secret,  especial- 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME.         207 

ly  from  your  mother ;  consult  them  concerning  your 
plans,  studies,  amusements,  and  friends ;  relieve 
your  mother  as  much  as  possible,  by  rendering  her 
assistance  in  household  labors  to  the  very  limit  of 
your  ability ;  never  permit  yourself  to  be  disagree- 
able or  resentful  to  your  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
study  to  find  your  own  pleasure  in  promoting  the 
happiness  of  the  family  circle.  Thus  will  filial 
affection  grow  strong  and  beautiful  in  your  soul. 
¥our  home  will  be  sweet  and  delightful.  Your 
parents  will  rejoice  over  you,  as  an  olive  plant  of 
valued  loveliness,  and  you  will  be  fitted  to  make 
those  heroic  sacrifices,  if  the  exigency  should  ever 
occur,  which  have  immortalized  the  names  of  Kuth, 
of  Elizabeth  the  exile's  daughter,  of  Sombreuil's 
child,  and  of  other  illustrious  women.  Your  Creator 
will  also  hold  you  in  remembrance  for  your  fidelity 
to  filial  obligations.  God  loves  a  faithful  child,  and 
has  condescended  to  incorporate  his  high  regard  for 
such  in  the  "  commandment  with  promise  :  "  "  Hon- 
or thy  father  and  mother,  that  thy  days  may  be  long 
in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth  thee" 


208  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 


Another  duty  that  claims  your  attention,  with 
imperial  authority,  is  the  cultivation  of  proper  affec- 
tions for  your  brothers  and  sisters.  The  tie  that 
binds  you  to  them  is  a  precious,  golden  link  in  the 
chain  of  life,  and  should  be  preserved  unbroken. 
Discord  between  childen  of  the  same  parents  is  the 
perfection  of  youthful  misery.  Envy,  jealousy, 
bickering,  are  horrible  monsters  in  any  home;  for 
their  devastating  appetites  will  devour  every  fruit  of 
household  bliss.  On  the  contrary,  fraternal  and 
sisterly  love  is  a  soft,  gentle  star  of  beauty,  in  the 
domestic  heavens.  The  voices  of  such  affections  are 
bewitching  melodies,  enchanting  the  soul  by  their 
bird-like  tones.  It  is  impossible  to  measure  the 
amount  of  pleasure  or  misery,  in  a  family,  procured 
by  the  lovingness  or  hatefulness  of  its  sons  and 
daughters. 

Be  kind,  therefore,  young  lady,  to  your  brothers 
and  sisters ;  and  especially  so,  if  you  are  an  eldest 
daughter.     Be  unselfish  and  attentive.     Exert  your- 
self to  please  them,  so  that  you  may  strike  a  chord  ' 
of  delight  whenever  they  approach  you.     Encourage 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME.        ,209 

them  in  their  studies  and  amusemen  ,s.  Gently 
check  any  wrong  manifestation  of  character,  both  in 
them  and  in  yourself.  By  these  means,  you  will 
wind  cords  of  enduring  affection  round  their  hearts* 
They  will  love  you,  and  they  will  also  love  home  for 
your  sake.  And,  if  your  brother  should  be  lured 
into  the  tempestuous  seas  of  passion,  your  image, 
gleaming  through  the  surrounding  mists  and  vapors, 
will  revive  the  strength  of  his  virtue,  and  inspire  him 
with  the  energy  to  escape  from  those  foaming  break- 
ers where  so  many  strong  men  have'  perished. 
Many  a  brother  has  fallen  for  lack  of  such  a  vision. 
A  distasteful  home  has  driven  him  into  sinful 
society. 

"  His  father's  house 
Has  unto  him  become  a  cheerless  den. 
His  pleasant  tales,  and  sprightly,  playful  talk, 
Which  once  their  social  meals  were  wont  to  charm, 
Now  visit  them  but  like  a  hasty  beam 
Between  the  showery  clouds." 

Parents  and  sisters  lament  this  sad  alienation.     Had 
they,  by  mutual  affection,  made  their  home  a  minia- 
ture paradise,  —  had  his  sister  clothed  heiself  in  the 
14 


210       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

angelic  loveliness  of  sisterly  affection,  —  he  might 
still  have  been  the  household  joy.  But  if  not,  how 
ennobling  to  her  charactar  wt>uld  have  been  the 
consciousness  of  entire  blamelessness  for  his  fall ! 

Therefore,  I  say  again,  be  as  an  angel  of  goodness 
to  your  brother.  Treat  him  with  forbearing  kind- 
ness, resembling  De  Montfort's  sister,  who,  having 
followed  his  restless  steps  to  his  retreat,  and  finding 
him  amused  at  a  mixed  assembly,  refused  to  be 
announced,  saying, 

"I  am  his  sister,  — 
The  eldest  daughter  of  his  father's  house,  — 
Calm  and  unwearied  is  my  love  for  him  ; 
And,  having  found  him,  patiently  I  '11  wait, 
Nor  greet  him  in  the  hour  of  social  joy, 
To  dash  his  mirth  with  tears." 

The  skilful  horticulturist,  in  preparing  young 
trees  to  enrich  his  orchard  or  beautify  his  grounds, 
keeps  them,  at  first,  in  some  congenial  nook,  where 
they  are  sheltered  from  the  winds  and  frosts.  When 
at  a  proper  degree  of  maturity,  they  are  transplanted 
to  some  other  spot,  to  brave  the  winds  and  to  bear 
fruit.     And   it  pleases  the  Divine  Husbandman  to 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME.         211 

treat  his  creatures  with  an  analogous  but  more  loving 
consideration.  He  does  not  expose  them  suddenly 
to  the  bleak  winds  and  sharp  frosts  of  life,  but  places 
them  in  a  downy  nest,  called  home,  where,  duly 
sheltered,  they  may  acquire  power,  experience,  and 
wisdom,  to  go  forth  and  boldly  dare  the  severer 
responsibilities  of  life. 

Therefore,  home  should  be  viewed  as  a  social 
nursery,  within  whose  protecting  walls  a  young  lady 
must  fit  herself  for  a  higher  and  more  difficult  sphere 
It  is  the  place  of  opportunity ;  the  dressing-room  of 
life ;  the  antechamber  leading  into  the  great  hall  of 
assembly,  in  which  she  is  bound  to  enact  some  more 
or  less  important  part. 

How  beautifully  fitted  is  this  blessed  arrangement 
to  the  contemplated  end!  Home,  " sweet,  sweet 
home  !  "  we  may  indeed  call  it ;  for  there  never  wa3 
nor  will  be  any  other  "  place  like  home." 

"  The  parted  bosom  clings  to  wonted  home, 
If  aught  that's  kindred  cheer  the  welcome  hearth." 

Home  frees  you  from  all  care  for  present  self-suste* 


212       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

nance,  and  thus  leaves  your  mind  free  for  study  and 
self-improvement.  Home  has  voices  of  experience 
and  hearts  of  genuine  holy  love,  to  instruct  you  in  the 
ways  of  life,  and  to  save  you  from  a  sense  of  loneliness, 
as  you  gradually  discover  the  selfishness  of  mankind. 
Home  has  its  trials,  in-which  are  imaged  the  sternei 
struggles  of  your  after  years,  that  your  character  may 
gain  strength  and  manifestation ;  "for  which  purpose 
they  are  necessary.  They  "  open  the  portals  of  the 
heart,  that  its  jewels,  otherwise  concealed  in  its  hid- 
den depths,  may  shine  forth  and  shed  their  lustre  on 
the  world."  Home  has  its  duties,  to  teach  you  how 
to  act  on  your  own  responsibility.  Home  gradually 
and  gently  increases  its  burdens,  so  that  you  may 
acquire  strength  to  endure  without  being  overtasked. 
Home  is  a  little  world,  in  which  the  duties  of  the 
great  world  are  daily  rehearsed.  And  so  perfect  is 
the  adaptation  of  home,  that  if  a  young  lady  learna 
its  lessons  well  and  truly,  she  cannot  well  fail  of  fit- 
ness for  any  subsequent  station  which  God  may  ca\a 
her  to  fill.  A  dutiful  daughter,  a  loving  sister,  an 
industrious   girl,  will   make  a   happy  wife,  a  good 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  AT  HOME.         213 

mother,  and  a  valuable  woman.  Fidelity  to  the 
duties  of  her  girlhood  fits  her  for  a  glorious  and  bliss- 
ful womanhood;  while  the  undutiful  daughter,  the 
ill-tempered  sister,  the  idle  girl,  whose  pride  is  in  the 
whiteness  of  her  hands  and  the  ornaments  of  her 
apparel,  will  as  certainly  grow  into  an  odious  wife,  a 
foolish  mother,  or  a  lazy,  disgusting  woman. 

Be  faithful,  therefore,  young  lady,  to  the  calm  and 
priceless  opportunities  afforded  you  in  the  pleasant 
home  of  your  youth.  They  are  golden  seeds  of 
golden  fruit.  Sow  them  assiduously,  and  sow  them 
carefully.  The  harvest-time  will  surely  come  with 
smiles  and  gladness.  Among  the  sheaves  will  be  a 
husband's  admiring  love,  a  brother's  gratitude,  per- 
haps a  child's  affection.  There,  too,  will  be  sheaves 
of  rich  reflections.  As  you  gaze  upon  the  past,  the 
venerable  faces  of  your  departed  parents  will  rise, 
distinct  and  smiling,  among  the  dim  and  cloudy 
images  of  the  mind.  How  delightful  it  will  be  to 
gaze,  and  to  remember  a  loving,  faithful  past ;  to  re- 
call no  unkind  word,  act,  or  look ;  but  to  feast  on  the 
thought  of  those  affectionate  interchanges  of  mutual 


214  TILE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

kindness,  which  caused  those  well-remembered  faces 
to  look  with  ineffable  love  upon  you !  How  delicious, 
how  real,  are  such  remembrances!  Hear  the  poet 
describing  a  lady  musing  thus  upon  her  early  life; 
He  says  : 

"  As  some  fair  lake  reflects,  when  day  is  o'er, 
With  stiller  deeps  and  clearer  tide  the  shore, 
So  night  and  calm  the  lengthening  memory  glassed 
And  from  the  silence  rose  distinct  the  past : 
Again  she  sees  her  mother's  gentle  face  ; 
Again  she  feels  the  mother's  soft  embrace  ; 
Again  the  mother's  sigh  of  pain  she  hears, 
And  starts  —  and  lo !  the  spell  dissolves  in  tears !  " 

Blessed  tears!  provided  they  are  tears  that  come 
swelling  from  a  precious  tide  of  love,  and  not  from 
the  overflowing  of  a  remorseful  spirit.  Dear  lady, 
be  faithful  to  the  present  hour !  And,  that  you  may 
have  the  power  to  be  so,  give  Christ  your  heart. 
Let  him  purify  your  affections,  and  guide  your  spirit. 
Then  will  your  experience  justify  the  poet's  exclama- 
tion of 

"  How  the  home  brightens  where  the  heart  presides  ! " 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME. 

OTWITHSTANDING    all    the 

voices  of  wisdom  which  fall 
on  childish  ears,  in  the  sweet 
little  home-world,  where  the 
young  heart  so  fearlessly  nestles, 
our  first  lessons  of  life  are  usually 
.  inaccurate ;  our  first  impressions  of 
its  character  and  duties  obscure  and 
false.  Peeping  out  at  the  windows  of 
our  early  home,  we  see  the  big  world,  as  a 
traveller  sees  a  landscape  by  the  light  of  a 
waning  moon,  through  pale,  midnight 
vapors,  and  it  appears  to  us  a  romantic  scene  of 
beauty  only,  fitted  solely  for  our  pleasure.  But,  as 
the  rising  sun  wears  the  fog  into  "  shreds  and  rifted 
masses,"  whose  openings  give  "  glimpse  after  glimpse 
of  slow  revealed "  reality  to  the  wanderer,  so  does 


216  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

an  actual  entrance  into  life  gradually  unfold,  to  a 
reflective  young  lady,  the  great  truth,  that  the  im« 
mutable  law  which  forces  her  into  the  theatre  of 
social  life,  aims  to  constitute  her  an  actor  on  its 
stage,  and  not  a  mere  pleased  spectator  of  its  shifting 
scenes.  She  learns,  at  least  she  may,  if  she  is  true 
to  her  opportunities,  that  she  has  a  useful  part  to 
perform  in  the  great  drama  of  existence.  That  a 
constant,  personal  approximation  towards  the  all-per- 
fect, and  a  ceaseless  endeavor  to  communicate  good 
to  others,  are  the  sublime  aims  and  duties  proper  to 
every  human  being!  Happy  is  that  young  lady 
whose  perception  of  this  truth  is  clear,  and  whose 
adherence  to  it  is  firm  and  immovable !  Let  her 
follow  it,  as  seamen  the  beaming  of  the  northern  star, 
or  as  the  ancient  magi  the  mystic  star  of  the  Sav- 
iour, and  it  shall  guide  her  to  the  throne  of  Messiah, 
—  to  Him  "  who  is  over  all,  God  blessed  forever  " ! 

As  the  academy  is  often  the  first  sphere  in  which 
a  young  lady  is  called  to  lean  somewhat  upon  her- 
self, a  few  counsels,  to  regulate  her  life  at  school, 
may  not  be  improper.     I  will,  therefore,  first  present 


THE    YOUNG   LADY   FROM   HOME  217 

one  important  end  of  school  education,  by  giving  a 
somewhat  humorous  extract  from  the  imaginative 
Jean  Paul.  Describing  the  griefs  of  one  of  his 
characters,  he  says : 

"  Siebenkas  pored  over  a  fatal  iron  mould, — a  mark 
or  wart  in  his  wife's  heart.  He  could  never  raise 
her  to  a  lyrical  enthusiasm,  in  which  she  might  for- 
get heaven,  and  earth,  and  all  things.  She  could 
count  the  strokes  of  the  clock  between  his  kisses,  and 
listen  to  the  pot  boiling  over,  with  the  big  tears, 
which  he  had  drawn  forth  by  a  beautiful  story,  or 
a  discourse  from  the  outpourings  of  his  heart,  yet 
standing  in  her  eyes.  She  sat  in  the  adjoining  room, 
and  sang  to  herself  quavering  psalms,  and  in  the 
middle  of  a  verse  she  interpolated  the  prosaic  ques- 
tion, 'What  shall  I  cook  this  evening?'  And  he 
could  never  forget,  that  once,  in  the  midst  of  a  most 
moved  attention  to  a  closet-sermon  of  his,  on  death 
and  eternity,  she  looked  thoughtfully  downwards, 
and  at  length  said, 

" '  Don't  put  on  your  left  stocking,  to-morrow 
morning.     I  must  first  mend  a  hole  in  it ! ' " 


218       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Poor  Siebenkas !  With  what  pain  must  he  have 
cast  away  his  manuscripts,  when  called  from  the 
height  of  sublime  reflection  to  the  ridiculous  depth 
of  a  darned  stocking !  His  wife  was  not  blameworthy 
for  her  domesticity,  but  for  the  want  of  that  high  ap. 
preciation  of  the  wealth  of  thought,  —  that  literary 
sensibility  and  mental  culture,  —  by  which,  in  a 
leisure  hour,  she  might  have  soared  with  her  hus- 
band into  the  glowing  regions  of  an  elevated,  ideal 
world,  untrammelled,  for  the  time,  by  thoughts  of 
cooking  and  darning.  For,  to  quote  Jean  Paul  again, 
every  woman  should  be  capable  of  soaring  to  a  certain 
height.  She  should  be  a  woman  on  whose  opened 
eyes  and  heart  the  flowery  earth  and  beaming  heavens 
strike,  not  in  infinitesimals,  but  in  large  and  towering 
masses ;  for  whom  the  great  whole  is  something 
more  than  a  nursery-room  or  a  ball-room.  Her 
feelings  should  be  at  once  tender  and  discriminating, 
and  her  heart  at  once  pious  and  large. 

To  impart  this  discrimination,  —  this  intellectu- 
ality, —  this  largeness  of  soul,  —  this  noble  sympathy 
with  the  great  and  beautiful,  —  is  the  work  of  edu- 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME.        219 

cation ;  the  aim  of  your  literary  instructors.  They 
would  save  you  from  the  ridiculous  littleness  of  the 
lady  whose  mind  had  closer  sympathy  with  the 
darning-needle  and  the  scullery  than  with  those 
great  thoughts  that  stir  the  truly  elevated  mind. 
They  would  not  create  any  distaste  for  domestic  life, 
-  that  were  both  sinful  and  foolish ;  but  they  would 
so  expand  your  intellect,  that  in  the  spare,  lonely,  or 
social  hours  of  after-life,  you  may  live  in  a  world  of 
pure  and  blessed  thought,  —  be  fit  for  the  com- 
panionship of  superior  minds ;  and  escape  that  awful 
ennui,  t—  that  loathsome  sense  of  soul-weariness,  — 
which  is  the  torment  of  uncultivated  women. 

This  is  a  serious  aim,  and  you  must  seriously 
entertain  it,  and  enter  thoroughly  into  it,  or  it  can- 
not be  accomplished.  You  must  view  the  laborious 
struggle  with  crooked  conjugations,  difficult  defini- 
tions, and  perplexing  theories,  as  having  a  positive 
relation  to  it.  You  must  regard  every  fully  digested 
lesson  as  a  certain  step  toward  a  larger  mental  wTorld. 
The  grandeur  of  this  idea  will  stimulate  you  when 
wearied,  restrain  yc*  when  attracted   to  improper 


220  THE    YOUNG   LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

objects,  and  sustain  you  in  the  little  trials  and  self- 
denials  of  school-life.  It  will  spur  you  to  ascend 
every  hill  of  difficulty,  and  cheer  your  struggles  in 
every  valley  of  confusion.  It  will  make  you  the 
pride  of  your  preceptors,  and  the  model  of  your  fel- 
low-scholars. Your  parents  will  feel  repaid  for  the 
expenses  of  your  education,  and  you  will  reap  a  rich 
harvest  of  enjoyment  all  the  way  through  life. 

Perhaps,  my  reader,  you  are  one  of  those  who  find 
the  acquisition  of  learning  to  be  very  difficult.  You 
pursue  it  reluctantly,  indolently,  and  almost  hope- 
lessly. This  is  wrong ;  for  no  young  lady  should 
ever  be  discouraged  with  herself,  or  despair  of 
making  indefinite  improvement.  You  have  elements 
of  unknown  power  in  your  soul,  and  persevering, 
hopeful  effort  will  draw  them  forth.  Never  despair 
of  acquiring  any  study  you  earnestly  enter  upon,  for 
you  can  acquire  it  if  you  will.  Study,  therefore, 
with  cheerful  diligence,  —  with  faith  in  yourself,  — 
and  you  shall,  at  length,  rejoice  in  the  consciousness 
of  victory.  Where  would  have  been  the  unequalled 
triumphs  of  the  peerless  Jenny  Lind,  but  for  h« 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME.        221 

persevering  energy  ?  Deprived  of  the  control  of  her 
voice,  just  as  it  was  winning  green  laurels  for  her  child- 
ish brow ;  discouraged  by  the  predictions  of  Garcia,  her 
musical  instructor,  who  dismissed  her  with  the  remark, 
that  "  she  had  made  great  progress  under  his  tuition, 
and  should  her  voice  fully  return,  he  would  prophesy 
her  success ;  but  of  this  he  could  see  no  prospect ;" 
triumphed  over  by  Mademoiselle  Nissen,  her  rival 
at  Berlin,  this  amiable  songstress  had  difficulties 
enough  to  crush  an  ordinary  mind.  But  she  had 
the  indomitable  energy  of  true  genius,  and  persisted 
in  the  severest  endeavors  to  recover  her  voice,  and  to 
attain  the  highest  artistical  power  to  direct  it.  She 
had  her  reward.  Her  voice  came,  at  last,  as  sud- 
denly as  it  had  left  her.  She  felt  conscious  of  her 
victory,  and  appeared  before  the  audience  with  a 
radiant  countenance.  They  had  heard  her  often, 
and  expected  no  surprise ;  but  when  she  struck  her 
first  note,  on  that  eventful  night,  every  ear  was 
ravished ;  and  as  she  poured  forth  the  gushing  flood 
of  music,  they  were  enraptured,  and,  writh  bursts  of 
admiration,  they   proclaimed   her   the   "  Queen  of 


222       THE  VOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Song."  She  deserved  her  triumph,  because  she  had 
earned  it  by  the  self-denying  discipline  of  years. 
Therefore,  I  say,  young  lady,  persevere  !  You  may 
not  be  formed  for  such  transcendent  excellence  as 
some  of  the  more  highly  gifted  of  your  sex,  but  you 
are  capable  of  unlimited  improvement. 

As  to  school  manners,  they  are,  or  should  be,  the 
same  as  in  any  other  circle  of  society.  Ill  manners 
in  an  academy  or  among  its  associations,  are  as  dis- 
gusting and  blameworthy  as  in  any  other  place. 
They  do  their  possessor  much  harm,  for  the  evil 
character  thus  acquired  at  school  often  cleaves  to  a 
lady  through  life.  Cultivate  good  manners,  there- 
fore, with  as  much  assiduity  as  if  you  moved  in  a 
court  circle.  Only  feel  kind  toward  all,  —  have  a 
sincere  wish  to  impart  pleasure  to  all  you  meet ;  be 
modest,  be  unassuming,  be  humble,  and  you  cannot 
fail  being  well-mannered  ;  for  the  most  refined  cour- 
tesies are  those  which  proceed  from  a  sincere  and 
gentle  spirit.  Such  a  spirit,  animating  your  inter- 
course  with  others,  will  color  all  your  conduct  with 
propriety,   and    prepare    you    for   association   with 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME.        223 

teachers  or  scholars,  rich  »or  poor,  village  coteries  or 
city  assemblies.  Be  careful,  therefore,  of  your  dis- 
positions, and  they,  with  a  little  common  sense,  will 
regulate  your  manners  far  better  than  all  the  foppish 
dancing-masters  in  existence. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  that  necessity  of  exerting 
good  or  evil  influence  which  is  immutably  linked  to 
your  existence,  and  of  your  duty  to  exert  only  a  good 
influence  over  others.  A  benevolent  spirit  toward 
society,  manifested  in  habitual  acts  of  kind  endeavor 
to  benefit  its  members,  is,  therefore,  not  merely  a 
question  of  choice,  but  a  fearful  obligation  resting 
upon  you.  You  form  a  part  of  the  human  family, 
that  you  may  diminish  its  miseries  and  add  to  its 
pleasures.  By  a  smile,  a  tear,  a  word,  or  a  gift,  you 
may  daily  send  a  beam  of  gladness  into  the  sad 
spirit  of  some  forsaken  child  of  sorrow.  By  making 
this  a  principal  object  of  your  daily  life,  you  will 
answer  the  grand  end  of  social  life,  and  your  efforts 
will  flow  back  upon  your  own  soul  in  swelling  seas 
of  perennial  joy. 

An  oriental  ascetic,  who  had  taken  up  his  lonely 


224       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

abode  in  the  desert,  was  accustomed  to  carry  water, 
in  a  glass,  from  a  spring  in  his  hermitage,  to  the 
weary  travellers  who  passed  his  door.  For  this 
they  blessed  his  habitation,  as  an  oasis  in  the  sandy 
waste.  At  last  he  bethought  himself  that  it  would 
be  better  to  dig  a  well  in  front  of  his  house,  that  the 
travellers  of  the  desert  might,  even  for  ages  after  his 
death,  freely  slake  their  thirst.  He  obeyed  the  sug- 
gestion of  his  heart;  and  for  generations  the  caravans 
paused  at  his  well,  and  rejoiced  in  his  far-reaching 
benevolence. 

Even  thus  it  should  be,  young  lady,  with  you  and 
your  deeds  of  kindness.  While,  by  private  acts  of  love, 
you  resemble  the  hermit  bringing  the  single  glass  of 
water  from  his  bubbling  spring,  you  should,  by  lend- 
ing your  influence  to  the  church  of  Christ  and  its 
various  institutions,  aid  to  perpetuate  living  foun- 
tains of  public  beneficence,  to  the  latest  ages  of  time. 

There  is  no  mode  of  benevolent  action  more  suited 
to  a  young  lady,  than  to  labor  as  a  teacher  in  a 
Sabbath-school.  The  beauty,  the  greatness,  and  the 
blessedness  of  this  delightful  work,  are  well  expressed 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME.        225 

in  the  following  lines,  which  I  quote  for  your  careful 

study. 

"  5T  is  a  fond,  yet  a  fearful  thing  to  rule 
O'er  the  opening  min  1  in  a  Sabbath-school. 
Like  wax,  ye  can  mould  it  in  the  form  ye  will ; 
What  ye  write  on  the  tablet  remains  there  still : 
And  an  angel's  work  is  not  more  high 
Than  aiding  to  form  one's  destiny." 

The  distribution  of  tracts,  visiting  the  sick  poor, 
aiding  to  sustain  seamen's  bethels  and  homes,  and 
all  kindred  tasks,  are  also  admirable  spheres  of 
benevolent  action.  Only  be  careful  of  associations 
of  ultra  reformers,  —  of  men  and  women  who  decry 
all  existing  good,  in  their  blind  devotion  to  a  particu- 
lar idea.  Such  persons  are  like  hunters,  who,  to 
capture  a  wicked  fox,  will  trample  down  a  field  of 
valuable  wheat,  —  and  these  pseudo  reformers,  in 
like  manner,  while  aiming  at  a  good  end,  do  im- 
mense mischief  in  the  attempt ;  and  the  amount  of 
good  they  accomplish  is  very  insignificant.  Beware 
of  such  spirits !  Cleave  to  those  institutions  which 
are  sanctioned  by  the  church  of  the  living  God. 
Nor  must  you  suffer  your  zeal  for  society  to  lead 
15 


226       THE  YOUNG  LADIES  COUNSELLOR. 

you  to  neglect  the  duties  of  self-cultivation,  and  of 
making  the  companions  of  your  domestic  hearth 
happy.  These  are  first  duties.  Fulfil  their  claims, 
and  then  do  your  utmost  for  the  world  without. 

You  may  be  called,  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 
to  travel  from  home,  without  the  protection  of  a 
friend,  to  places  in  which  you  are  totally  unac- 
quainted. There  is  danger  in  this,  because  of  the 
numerous  villains  who  lurk  around  large  cities  in 
search  of  prey ;  yet,  with  proper  precautions,  you 
may  do  so  safely.  You  should  always  ascertain 
before  going  to  a  strange  place  where  you  are  to 
stop.  Nothing  should  induce  you  to  go  into  a  large 
city,  utterly  ignorant  of  the  person  or  place  you  are 
to  inquire  for.  To  do  so,  is  to  throw  yourself  in  the 
way  of  danger;  for  in  all  such  places  there  are 
creatures  whose  souls  are  steeped  in  the  deepest 
dyes  of  wickedness,  ready  to  beguile  the  unwary 
into  places  of  shame;  as  was  the  sad  fate  of  a  young 
lady  I  will  name  Alice.  Her  connections  were 
quite  respectable,  but,  with  a  praiseworthy  spirit  of 
independence,  she   resolved   to   support   herself  by 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME.       227 

entering  a  cotton  mill.  Unfortunately  for  her  hap- 
piness, she  hastened  to  a  certain  city,  without  any 
previous  knowledge  of  the  place,  or  acquaintance 
with  any  of  its  inhabitants.  She  began  to  make  in- 
quiries of  the  persons  who  stood  around  the  depot, 
when  a  well-dressed  man  stepped  up  and  told  her  he 
was  an  agent  for  a  corporation  in  a  neighboring  city, 
where  her  opportunities  for  self-support  would  be 
much  superior.  Pleased  with  his  apparently  disin- 
terested manner,  and  scarcely  knowing  what  else  to 
do,  she  accepted  his  proposal  to  conduct  her  thither. 
He  accompanied  her  to  the  place,  and  led  her,  — 
poor,  deceived  girl,  —  to  a  haunt  of  sorrow  and  sin, 
whf-re,  by  dint  of  cruelty,  threats  and  confinement, 
she  became  lost  to  virtue,  to  society,  and  to  heaven  ! 
Beware,  therefore,  young  lady,  of  placing  confi- 
dence in  strangers  !  But  beware  still  more  of  put- 
ting yourself  in  a  situation  where  that  confidence  is 
necessary.  A  woman's  helplessness  is  her  danger, 
and  she  is  never  more  helpless  than  when  she  enters 
a  strange  city,  unknowing  upon  whom  to  call,  or 
where  to  make  it  her  home.     Her  sense  of  helpless- 


228       THE  YOUNG  LADY*S  COUNSELLOR. 

ness  embarrasses  her  action,  and  points  her  out  as  a 
suitable  person  to  be  beguiled.  On  the  contrary,  if 
she  knows  her  destination,  she  moves  with  confi. 
dence  and  ease ;  the  vile  dare  not  molest  her  if  she- 
acts  with  common  prudence,  and  she  is  comparative 
ly  safe ;  though  it  is  my  opinion  that  unless  she 
has  gained  experience  by  first  travelling  in  company 
with  others,  a  young  lady  ought  not  to  travel  alone, 
unless  circumstances  make  it  her  absolute  duty.  In 
such  a  case,  her  safety  must  be  secured  by  proper 
precaution  and  demeanor,  and  by  a  fitting  trust  in 
GJod,  as  her  almighty  protector  and  guardian. 

Did  you  ever  study  that  picture  of  the  royal  He- 
brew melodist,  which,  with  seeming  unconsciousness, 
he  drew  of  himself,  in  the  third  psalm  ?  Absalom, 
his  ingrate  son,  had  driven  him  from  his  throne,  and 
compelled  him  to  maintain  his  kingly  and  paternal 
rights  by  an  appeal  to  the  sword.  By  various  acts 
he  had  also  succeeded  in  winning  thousands  of  the 
bravest  sons  of  Judah  to  join  the  standard  of  revolt. 
The  weary  old  warrior  was  thereby  placed  in  ex- 
tremely perilous  circumstances.     He  was  a  fugitive 


THE  YOUNG  LADY  FROM  HOME.        229 

king,  an  injured  and  abused  father,  a  strongly-tried 
sufferer.  But,  in  the  midst  of  this  fierce  storm  of 
woes,  behold  him,  at  eventide,  quietly  reposing  on 
his  couch,  and  sleeping  as  calmly  and  sweetly  as  a 
babe  slumbers  on  its  mother's  breast.  With  amiable 
simplicity  he  sung,  "  I  laid  me  down  and  slept ! " 

Yes,  he  slept  with  the  voices  of  unnatural  war 
ringing  in  his  ears !  But  how  could  he  sleep  amidst 
such  sounds  ?  Was  he  insensitive  and  stupidly  re- 
signed to  his  fate  ?  Nay,  he  was  keenly  alive  to  his 
condition  ;  but  let  him  reveal  the  hidden  philosophy 
of  his  slumbers,  in  his  mournfully  pleasant  psalm. 
Hear  him  singing,  "  I  cried  unto  the  Lord  with  my 
voice,  and  he  heard  me  out  of  his  holy  hill !  " 

Faith  in  God,  you  see,  supported  him.  But  for 
that,  his  strong  soul  would  have  sunk  in  deep  waves 
of  despairing  sorrow.  And  what  but  such  a  trust 
in  God,  my  dear  young  friend,  can  sustain  you, 
when,  leaving  the  home-world  of  your  youth,  you  go 
out  into  society,  to  meet  troops  of  dangers,  and  to 
combat  with  powerful  enemies  to  your  peace  and 
safety  ?    Poor,  friendless,  and  desolate  of  heart,  you 


230  THE    YOUNG    LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

will  be  without  faith  in  Jesus.  Turn  your  heart, 
then,  to  him,  with  tears  of  penitential  love ;  and  you 
may  go  out  into  the  great  world,  singing, 

"What  though  a  thousand  hosts  engage, 
A  thousand  worlds,  my  soul  to  shake  ; 

I  have  a  shield  shall  quell  their  rage, 
And  drive  their  alien  armies  back. 

Portrayed,  it  bears  a  bleeding  Lamb  5 

I  dare  believe  in  Jesus'  name." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

COURTSHIP   AND  MARRIAGE. 

ADY,  I  wish  you  to  study  the 
beautiful  image  of  mutual  aifec- 
tion  contained  in  the  following 
lines  : 

"  Side  by  side  we  stood, 
Like  two  young  trees,  whose  boughs  in  early 

strength 
Screen  the  weak  saplings  of  the  rising  grove, 
And  brave  the  storm  together." 

And  now,  behold  yonder  two  heights,  be- 
tween which   rolls  a  furious  river !     They 
are  parted,  and  the  "  mining  depths  "  so  in- 
tervene that  they  can  meet  no  more. 

Can  you  believe  that  those  loving  trees  with 
their  infolded  branches,  and  these  jagged  rocks  with 
their  dark  torrents,  are  images  of  the  same  thing  ? 


232       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

Widely  as  they  contrast,  they  are,  nevertheless,  both 
equally  fitting  figures  of  the  marriage  state  :  the 
former  of  a  happy,  the  latter  of  an  unhappy  mar- 
riage. In  the  first,  kindred  spirits,  governing  their 
hearts  by  mutual  wisdom,  are  united  in  blissful  and 
pleasing  affection ;  in  the  second,  two  unmatched 
souls  are  held  in  hateful  contiguity  by  a  legal  bond, 
but  divided  in  heart  by  a  torrent  of  passionate  aver- 
sion. 

If  you  are  among  the  multitude  who  form  their 
notions  of  love  and  marriage  from  sickly  novels, 
from  theatrical  performances,  and  from  flippant  con- 
versation, you  probably  question  the  correctness  of 
my  second  figure.  Marriage,  to  your  uninstructed 
fancy,  is  a  "  seed  of  ineffable  joy  only.  Its  future  is 
spread  as  a  bright  May  day,  and  before  your  eyes 
golden  years  dance  in  bridal  hours." 

"Thus,  in  the  desert's  dreary  waste, 
By  magic  power  produced  in  haste, 

As  old  romances  say, 
Castles  and  groves,  and  music  sweet, 
The  senses  of  the  trav'ler  cheat, 

And  stop  him  in  his  way. 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  233 

But,  while  he  gazes  with  surprise, 
The  charm  dissolves,  the  vision  dies ; 
'T  was  but  enchanted  ground." 

Thus  will  your  ideal  of  married  life  be  changed  into 
a  wilderness  by  experience,  unless  it  be  entered  upon 
with  wisdom  and  precaution. 

Marriage  is  a  high  and  holy  state,  designed  by  its 
almighty  Author  to  promote  the  health,  happiness, 
purity  and  real  greatness  of  our  species.  It  is 
proper,  therefore,  for  you  to  desire  it,  to  prepare 
yourself  for  it,  and  to  accept  it,  under  fitting  circum- 
stances. It  is  equally  improper  for  you  to  fancy  that 
you  cannot  be  truly  happy  in  a  single  state,  or  to 
hastily  accept  the  first  offer  that  you  may  receive, 
lest  you  should  never  have  a  second.  Better,  far 
better,  will  it  be  for  you  to  live  and  die  un wedded, 
than  to  give  your  hand  and  person  to  one  who  is 
unsuited  to  your  disposition,  or  unfitted,  by  bad  hab- 
its, to  make  you  a  happy  wife  ;  or  than  to  enter  so 
responsible  a  relation  without  those  mental  and 
moral  qualifications  which  are  essential  to  its  enjoy- 
ment.    A  single  life  is  not  without  its  advantages ; 


234       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

while  a  married  one  which  fails  of  accomplishing 
its  true  end  is  the  acme  of  earthly  wretchedness. 
There  is  many  a  wife,  who,  having  married  incau- 
tiously and  hastily,  has  buried  even  her  hopes  of 
happiness  deep  in  a  grave  of  despair;  who  sees 
nothing  to  cheer  her  in  the  future ;  whose  silent 
sighings,  had  they  a  voice,  would  cry, 

"Mine  after-life  !     What  is  mine  after-life? 
My  day  is  closed!  the  gloom  of  night  is  come! 
A  hopeless  darkness  settles  o'er  my  fate : 
My  doom  is  closed  !  " 

"  How  terrible  !  "  you  exclaim.  Yes,  it  is  terrible, 
indeed ;  but  it  is  truth,  —  and  it  may  be  your  expe- 
rience, if  you  are  not  careful  concerning  the  charac- 
ter of  him  you  accept  for  your  husband. 

Marriage,  properly  viewed,  is  a  union  of  kindred 
minds,  —  a  blending  of  two  souls  in  mutual,  holy 
affection, — and  not  merely  or  chiefly  a  union  of  per- 
sons. Its  physical  aspects,  pure  and  necessary  as 
they  are,  are  its  lowest  and  least  to  be  desired  ones ; 
indeed,  they  derive  all  their  sanctity  from  the  spirit- 
ual affinity  existing  between  the  parties.     So  em- 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  235 

piratically  is  this  the  fact,  that  marriage  without 
mutual  affection  is  defilement  and  sin.  Virtuous 
love  alone  can  give  dignity  and  innocency  to  the  re- 
lation. Hence,  the  holy  Scriptures  enjoin  husbands 
to  "  love  their  wives,"  and  wives  to  "  reverence  their 
husbands,"  with  the  same  authoritative  voice  as  that 
with  which  they  enjoin  marriage  itself. 

These  are  the  only  views  of  this  subject,  young 
lady,  that  you  can  innocently  entertain ;  and,  in  this 
light,  it  will  not  harm  you  in  the  least  to  reflect 
upon  it.  There  are  ideas,  romantic,  impassioned, 
immodest,  derived  from  impure  novels  and  impurer 
fancies,  which  you  must  prayerfully  exclude  from 
the  chambers  of  your  soul,  or  they  will  prepare  you 
for  the  tempter,  and  lead  you  captive  into  an  un- 
timely marriage,  if  not  into  still  deeper  wretched- 
ness. But  those  loftier  conceptions  of  it  will  only 
stimulate  you  to  cultivate  those  mental  and  moral 
qua_ities  which  will  fit  you  to  enjoy  the  state,  and 
to  the  exercise  of  a  calm  judgment  in  the  disposal  of 
your  affections. 

Many  young  ladies  indulge  in  very  nonsensical 


236  THE    YOUNG  LADY'S   COUNSELLOR. 

opinions,  or,  I  should  rather  say,  notions,  concerning 
love.  They  foolishly  fancy  themselves  bound  to  be 
"  smitten,"  to  "  fall  in  love,"  to  be  "  love-sick,"  with 
almost  every  silly  idler  who  wears  a  fashionable 
coat,  is  tolerably  good-looking,  and  pays  them  par- 
ticular attention.  Reason,  judgment,  deliberation, 
according  to  their  fancies,  have  nothing  to  do  with 
love.  Hence,  they  yield  to  their  feelings,  and  give 
their  company  to  young  men,  regardless  of  warning 
advice  or  entreaty.  A  father's  sadness,  a  mother's 
tears,  are  treated  with  contempt,  and  often  with  bit- 
ter retorts.  Their  lovers  use  flattering  words,  and, 
like  silly  moths  fluttering  round  the  fatal  lamp,  they 
allow  themselves  to  be  charmed  into  certain  misery. 
Reader,  beware  of  such  examples ;  eschew  such 
false  notions !  Learn  that  your  affections  are  under 
your  own  control ;  that  pure  affection  is  founded 
.  upon  esteem  ;  that  estimable  qualities  in  a  man  can 
alone  secure  the  continuance  of  connubial  love  ;  that 
if  these  are  not  in  him,  your  love  has  no  foundation, 
it  is  unreal,  and  will  fall,  a  wilted  flower,  as  soon  as 
the  excitement  of  youthful  passion  is  overpast.     Re- 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  23T 

strain  your  affections,  therefore,  with  vigor ;  it  will 
cost  you  far  less  pam  to  stifle  them  in  their  birth, 
than  to  languish  through  the  years  of  woe  which  are 
inseparable  from  an  unsuitable  marriage. 

If  I  am  correct  in  my  statements  concerning  love 
and  marriage,  the  true  idea  of  courtship  is  already 
obvious.  What  is  it  in  its  beginning,  but  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  parties  to  ascertain  their  fitness  for 
each  other  ?  What,  in  its  progress,  but  a  means  of 
forming  and  strengthening  that  genuine  affection, 
which  is  the  true  basis  of  marriage  ?  With  every 
young  lady  the  paramount  question  concerning  him 
who  offers  her  particular  attentions,  ought  to  be,  "  Is 
he  worthy  of  my  love  ?  "  Her  first  aim  should  be 
to  decide  it.  She  should  observe  him  well  and 
thoughtfully,  —  study  his  character  as  it  may  be 
expressed  in  his  countenance,  his  words,  spirit,  and 
actions.  Through  her  parents  she  should  inquire 
into  his  previous  history,  and  learn  especially  if  he 

HAS  BEEN  A  DUTIFUL  SON  AND  AN  AFFECTIONATE 

brother.  This  last  is  a  vital  test,  though  it  is  gen- 
erally overlooked  ;  but  very  sure  I  am,  that  a  young 


238       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

man  devoid  of  filial  and  fraternal  love,  will  not,  can- 
not make  a  good  husband, 

Now  all  this  advice  is  perhaps  lost  upon  my  al* 
most  scornful  reader.  She  thinks  me  a  cold,  calcu- 
lating adviser,  and  perhaps  pronounces  me  heartless. 
Be  it  so.  Yet  if  she  despises  my  counsel  and  mar- 
ries an  unworthy  man,  she  will  often  turn  back  to  i* 
with  remorseful  reflections.  Lady,  mine  is  not  a 
cold  heart.  I  understand  the  ardor  of  youthful  feel 
ing,  and  comprehend  all  your  difficulty  in  yielding 
to  my  instructions.  Passion  is  strong  in  a  young 
breast ;  it  is  often  delirious  —  mad  !  It  blinds  the 
judgment,  steels  the  conscience,  bewilders  the  imagi- 
nation, captivates  the  reason.  Study  its  wild  work- 
ings, as  before  a  mirror,  in  the  following  words  of 
Basil,  a  military  chieftain,  w7ho,  enthralled  by  a  sud- 
den affection  for  a  beautiful  woman,  allowed  himself 
to  be  detained  with  his  troops  from  the  field  of  bat- 
tle, and  thereby  placed  the  fate  of  an  empire  in  jeop- 
ardy. Hear  him  debating  the  opposing  claims  of 
duty  and  affection : 

"  Well,  there  is  yet  one  day  of  life  before  me, 
And,  whatsoe'er  betide,  I  will  enjov  it. 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  239 

Though  but  a  partial  sunshine  in  my  lot, 
I  will  converse  with  her,  gaze  on  her  still, 
If  all  behind  were  pain  and  misery. 
Pain  !  were  it  not  the  easing  of  all  pain, 
E'en  in  the  dismal  gloom  of  after  years, 
Such  dear  remembrance  on  the  mind  to  wear, 
Like  silvery  moonbeams  on  the  nighted  deep, 
When  heaven's  blest  sun  is  gone  ?  " 

Poor  Basil !  All  his  rhapsodical  heroism  evapo- 
rated a  few  hours  afterwards,  when  he  learned  that 
he  was  disgraced  by  his  commander-in-chief,  for  his 
absence  from  .the  battle-field,  and,  in  a  fit  of  furious 
despair,  he  rushed  uncalled  into  eternity  ! 

And  it  is  ever  thus.  Passion  leads  us  into  a 
dream-land  of  folly.  Time  dissolves  the  airy  fabric 
of  the  fancy,  and  the  soul  awakes  to  mourn,  discon- 
solate, amid  the  ruins  which  surround  it.  Listen 
not,  therefore,  lady,  to  the  voices  of  passion.  Heed 
your  reason.  Keep  the  precious  love  of  your  young 
heart,  until  you  find  a  man  every  way  wTorthy  of  it. 
You  have  no  treasure  like  that  love.  Bestow  it  un- 
worthily, and  you  are  hopelessly  ruined.  Give  it  to 
some  manly  heart,  full  of  noble  qualities,  and  you 
will  drink  joy  from  a  pure    fountain.     If  no  such 


240       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

heart  seeks  it,  then  let  it  remain  in  your  own  breast, 
reserved  for  heaven  alone.     Say  of  your  love, 

"It  is 
The  invaluable  diamond,  which  I  give 
Freely  away,  or  else,  forever  hid, 
Must  bury  —  like  the  noble-hearted  merchant, 
Who,  all  unmoved  by  the  Rialto's  gold 
Or  king's  displeasure,  to  the  mighty  sea 
Gave  back  his  pearl  —  too  proud  to  part  with  it 
Below  its  price." 

The  human  "  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things," 
says  Hs  great  Creator.  Perhaps  it  is  never  more  in- 
clined to  conceal  itself  than  in  the  intercourse  of 
the  sexes.  Duplicity,  to  some  extent,  is  almost  uni- 
versal in  courtship.  Hence  follows  the  necessity  of 
the  utmost  caution  on  the  part  of  a  young  lady,  in 
admitting  a  lover  to  her  confidence.  The  value  she 
places  on  her  purity  must  be  very  trifling,  if  she  ad- 
mits a  stranger,  however  plausible  his  manners,  or 
however  specious  his  pretences,  to  the  sacred  inti 
macy  of  courtship,  without  some  unquestionable  as- 
surances of  his  morality  and  respectability.  He 
may  wear  the  garb  of  a  gentleman,  he  may  use  the 


COURTSHIP    AND  MARRIAGE.  24* 

most  courteous  language,  he  may  profess  the  utmost 
regard  for  virtue,  and  yet  be  a  villain !  Be  wary, 
therefore,  of  an  entire  stranger,  who  professes  to  ad- 
mire you.  Demand  references,  ascertain  his  princi- 
ples, study  watchfully  his  spirit.  A  man  soon  ex- 
hibits his  real  self  in  the  interchange  of  thought; 
and  the  chief  reason  why  so  many  women  are  cheat- 
ed by  seducers,  is  because  they  are  not  sufficiently 
anxious  to  know  the  true  characters  of  the  men  who 
flatter  them.  -If  they  were,  the  hollow  hypocrisy  of 
passion  would  betray  itself  to  their  cautious  minds, 
as  shown  by  Coleridge  : 

(t  Soft  the  glances  of  the  youth, 

Soft  his  speech  and  soft  his  sigh  ; 
But  no  sound  like  simple  truth, 
But  no  true  love  in  his  eye." 

So,  also,  a  man  filled  with  generous  and  honorable 
love  will  make  his  soul  most  visible  when  most 
unguarded.  He  is  like  young  Tracy  de  Vere,  in 
Eliza  Cook's  poem : 

11  There's  a  halcyon  smile  spread  o'er  his  face, 
Shedding  a  calm  and  radiant  grace  ; 
16 


242       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

There  's  a  sweetness  of  sound  in  his  talking  tones, 
Betraying  the  gentle  spirit  he  owns." 

But  if,  instead  of  watching  to  detect  character,  a 
young  woman  tolerates  the  utterance  of  sentiments 
and  the  manifestation  of  a  spirit  from  which  her 
moral  sense  secretly  recoils,  —  if  she  permits  the 
unholy  word,  the  passionate  glance,  to  pass  unre- 
buked  and  unresented,  —  if  she  persuades  herself 
that  these  displays  of  a  wicked  mind  are  foibles  she 
must  consent  to  endure  in  order  to  become  a  wife, — 
she  rushes  blindfold  into  the  wolf's  den,  and  becomes 
a  willing  partner  in  effecting  her  own  ruin.  But  if 
she  herself  wears  the  impenetrable  armor  of  mental 
and  moral  purity,  —  if  she  is  resolved  to  wed  only 
with  a  good  and  virtuous  man,  —  if  her  heart  be  un- 
spotted, and  if  it  shines  with  the  dazzling  splendor 
of  holy  affection,  —  a  false-hearted  man,  a  hypocriti- 
cal pretender  to  her  affection,  will  soon  flee  from  her 
society,  convinced  that  his  case  is  absolutely  hope- 
less. This  thought  is  most  beautifully  presented  in 
the  following  description  of  a  pure-minded  girl,  —  a 
model  for  all  her  sex  : 


COURTSHIP  AND   MARRIAGE.  243 

"  Impure  desire 
Round  that  chaste  light  but  hovered  to  expire  ; 
Her  angel  nature  found  its  own  defence 
E'en  in  the  instincts  of  its  innocence  ; 
As  that  sweet  flower  which  opens  every  hue 
Of  its  frank  heart  to  eyes  content  to  view, 
But  folds  its  leaves  and  shrinks  in  sweet  disdain 
From  the  least  touch  that  would  the  bloom  profane. 
O'er  all  the  woman  did  the  virgin  reign, 
And  love  the  heart  might  break  —  it  could  not  stain." 

The  man  whom  you  accept  as  your  suitor  should, 
therefore,  be  pure-minded,  sincere,  and  spotless  in 
his  moral  character.  He  should  be  a  self-denying 
man ;  rejecting  the  wine-cup,  tobacco,  and  all  other 
forms  of  intemperance ;  if  any  single  vice  acts  the 
tyrant  over  him,  it  is  not  safe  to  intrust  your  happi- 
ness to  his  keeping.  He  should  be  an  energetic 
man,  or  he  will  sink  in  seas  of  difficulty,  and  drag 
you  down  to  cavernous  depths  of  sorrow.  He 
should  possess  a  cultivated  intellect,  otherwise  he 
will  either  keep  you  in  obscurity,  or  subject  you  to 
incessant  mortification  by  his  ignorance.  He  should 
be  industrious;  if  he  is  a  drone,  he  will  pluck  down 
ruin  on  your  habitation.     He  must  be  economical ;  a 


244       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

spendthrift  husband  will  sow  the  field  of  your  after- 
life with  the  seed  of  unknown  struggles  and  trials,  — 
with  thorns  and  briars.  He  must  be  benevolent,  since 
a  covetous  man,  who  sacrifices  his  own  soul  at  the 
shrine  of  the  gold  demon,  will  not  hesitate  to  immo- 
late your  happiness  on  the  same  accursed  altar.  He 
must  not  be  a  proud  man  ;  for  pride  is  always  cruel, 
selfish,  remorseless.  He  should  not  be  clownish  oh 
the  one  hand,  nor  foppish  on  the  other,  because  a 
stupid  clown  and  a  conceited  fop  are  alike  mortify- 
ing to  the  sensibilities  of  every  woman  of  good  sense 
He  should  not  be  deformed  or  badly  defeatured ;  1 
do  not  say  he  must  needs  be  handsome,  for  beauty  is 
far  from  being  necessary  to  goodness,  yet  he  should 
not  be  repulsive ;  if  he  is  so,  your  heart  will  recoil 
from  him.  Above  all  things,  he  ought  to  be  reli- 
gious. No  man's  character  is  reliable,  if  his  virtues 
are  not  founded  on  reverence  and  love  for  his  Cre- 
ator. How  can  he  be  depended  upon  to  be  faith- 
ful to  wife  or  children,  who  despises  the  loftier 
claims  of  his  God  ?  It  is  true  that  many  irreligious 
men  are  kind,  indulgent,  and  affectionate  to  their 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  245 

families;  nevertheless,  they  are  in  constant  danger  of 
falling  away 'from  the  conventional  virtue  which  is 
their  only  adornment.  The  pure  gold  of  real  good- 
ness is  not  in  the  hearts  of  men  who  fear  not  God. 
A  young  lady  ought  to  be  afraid  to  unite  her  destiny 
with  a  man  who  makes  daring  but  fatal  war  on  Je 
hovah  !  She  who  does  so  risks  all  that  is  precious 
to  a  woman  in  both  worlds.  Therefore  I  exhort  my 
reader  to  "  marry  only  in  the  Lord." 

Should  you  be  addressed  by  a  young  man  who 
combines  these  excellences,  you  may  rightly  encour- 
age his  attentions,  after  consulting  your  parents, 
especially  your  mother.  The  habit  of  concealing 
matters  of  affection  from  a  parent  is  not>  only  dan- 
gerous, but  wicked.  There  may  be  exceptions  to 
this  statement,  I  know,  for  there  are  women,  —  no, 
female  monsters  !  they  are  not  true  women,  —  who 
hold  their  daughters  for  sale  to  the  highest  bidder. 
They  wish  them  to  marry  fortunes,  not  husbands  ; 
they  would  wed  them  to  rank  and  station,  not  to 
worthy,  loving  hearts.  They  wTould  send  them  to 
unsanctified  bridal  chambers,  where  the  absence  of 


246       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

pure  spiritual  affection  insures  their  defilement,  by  ex- 
cluding the  true  spirit  and  higher  ends-  of  marriage. 
Shame  !  shame  !  on  such  unwomanly  mothers.  My 
reader,  thank  God,  is  not  cursed  with  such  an  one. 
They  are  found  chiefly  among  the  heartless  worship- 
pers of  fashion.  Your  mother  is,  most  likely,  a  true 
woman.  She  has  a  mother's  heart.  She  seeks  to 
secure  your  best  interests.  Consult  her,  then,  in 
these  matters  of  the  heart.  She  will  advise  you 
wisely,  prudently,  safely.  Even  if  she  has  impru- 
dently indulged  you,  her  maternal  instinct  will  judge 
acutely  of  the  man  who  asks  her  daughter's  love. 
Beware  how  you  slight  her  opinions  !  Should  you 
be  already  listening  to  the  bewitching  whispers  of  a 
youth  from  whose  presence  your  mother  shrinks  with 
fear,  gaze  a  moment  on  the  etching  I  will  now  lay 
before  you. 

There  was  a  lady  who  had  two  graceful,  accom- 
plished daughters.  The  eldest,  —  call  her  Myra,  — 
was  addressed  by  a  very  prepossessing  young  man. 
He  had  talents,  opportunities,  and  connections,  but  he 
bad  vices  also.     He  was  a  lover  of  wine.     With 


COURTSHIP   AND    MARRIAGE.  247 

many  a  word  of  entreaty,  with  tears,  the  mother  of 
Myra  besought  her  to  refuse  his  attentions.  Myra 
met  her  affectionate  labors  by  exclaiming,  in  the 
most  unfilial  spirit,  "  I  am  determined  to  receive  hi3 
visits." 

Finding  persuasion  to  be  vain,  her  mother  exer- 
cised her  authority,  and  forbade  the  young  man  to 
enter  her  house.  Myra  was  obstinate  and  wicked  ; 
deprived  of  his  visits,  she  corresponded  with  him, 
eloped  with  him,  married  him.  Trampling  on  her 
mother's  wisdom,  she  followed  the  bent  of  her  incli- 
nations, and  scornfully  triumphed  over  all  restraints, 
as  she  walked  proudly  by  her  husband's  side. 

Alas,  her  triumph  was  very  short !  A  few  days 
after  their  marriage,  her  husband  came  home  intoxi- 
cated. From  that  hour  her  doom  of  misery  was 
sealed.  Abuse,  poverty,  degradation,  rags,  wretch- 
edness, became  her  heritage.  Her  hopes  were  all 
quenched  in  bitter  tears ;  her  unfilial  conduct  was 
terribly  rewarded  by  years  of  unspeakable  remorse. 
May  her  example  excite  you  to  record  a  solemn  pur- 
pose to  be  guided  by  a  parent's  wisdom,  and  to  be 


24S       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

married,  if  possible,  with  a  parent's  smile.  Sweet  is 
a  parent's  kiss,  when  it  approvingly  touches  the  lips 
of  a  daughter  in  the  bridal  hour.  On  the  contrary, 
that  bridal  day  is  dark  which  has  its  sun  obscured 
by  the  shadow  of  a  parent's  frown. 

Having  a  parent's  approval,  and  a  kindred  spirit 
for  a  suitor,  you  still  need  to  cultivate  caution  in  the 
intimacies  of  courtship.  While  you  avoid  all  co- 
quettishness  of  spirit,  you  must  also  guard  against 
too  much  freedom.  Be  frank,  simple,  trustful  in 
your  intercourse,  but  avoid  all  boldness  on  your  own 
part,  and  shrink  from  the  least  approach  to  impro- 
priety on  his.  Do  not  permit  your  lover  to  remain 
in  your  company  later  than  ten  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing ;  it  ought  to  make  a  young  lady  blush  even  to 
listen  to  a  proposal  to  sit  up  all,  or  nearly  all,  night, 
—  an  ancient  practice,  which,  I  am  pleased  to  know, 
is  becoming  unfashionable.  I  condemn  it,  because 
it  is  wrong,  and  disgraces  the  parties  in  their  own 
estimation,  as  well  as  in  the  opinion  of  all  virtuous 
persons.  Your  conversation  ought  also  to  be  sea- 
soned with  common  sense.     All  mere  soft,  silly  talk 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  249 

about  love  should  be  discarded  by  sensible  young 
persons.  You  and  your  suitor  are  not  silly  children, 
but  intelligent  and  immortal  minds.  You  do  not 
meet  to  sigh  and  look  foolish  at  each  other,  but  to 
grow  into  a  high  and  holy  unity  of  mind  and  heart ; 
and  your  intercourse  should  be  governed  by  this 
exalted  purpose. 

Do  not  be  in  haste  to  marry.  I  favor  early,  but 
not  premature  marriages.  A  girl  of  sixteen  or 
eighteen  is  unfitted  m  every  respect  to  enter  on 
this  state.  Her  physical  organization,  her  mind, 
her  moral  character,  are  alike  unripe  for  it,  and 
will  involve  her  in  a  net-work  of  pains,  trials, 
and  griefs,  of  which  she  has  little  conception.  No 
young  lady,  except  under  very  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances, should  wed  before  she  is  twenty,  and 
twenty-two  is  a  still  better  age.  Wait,  then, 
my  young  friend,  however  solicitous  your  be- 
trothed may  be  to  consummate  your  engagements. 
Bid  him  improve  his  circumstances,  cultivate  his 
intellect,  and  lay  sure  and  broad  foundations  for 
your  future  happiness.     Thus,  doing  all  that  human 


250       THE  YOUNG  LADY'S  COUNSELLOR. 

prudence  dictates,  diligently  studying  the  will  of 
God,  you  may  rationally  expect  the  divine  blessing 
to  fall  upon  you,  and  to  abide  with  you  through  the 
tangled^paths  of  your  earthly  life.^ 

And  now,  my  young  friend,  I  bid  you  an  affec- 
tionate farewell.  I  have  given  you  such  hints  and 
counsels  as  my  experience  in  the  ways  of  mankind 
suggested.  I  have  the  fullest  confidence  in  the  fit- 
ness of  my  advice.  I  lay  down  my  pen,  delightfully 
conscious  that  if  you  give  due  heed  to  these  pages, 
they  will  add  to  your  enjoyment,  and  improve  your 
character.  Fail  not,  therefore,  to  attempt  the  paths 
of  duty.  Achieve  the  victories  of  virtue !  Seize  the 
crown  of  a  holy  life,  and  remember  that  all  true 
strength  of  character  has  its  foundation  in  faith.  It 
is  by  believing  the  truth  that  human  hearts  are  puri- 
fied from  sin,  fitted  for  the  struggles  of  life,  and 
raised  to  fellowship  with  God.  When  the  woman, 
whose  wasting  disease  had  reduced  her  to  poverty, 
to  melancholy,  and  to  weariness,  moved  by  a  divine 

*For  counsels  to  the  married,  see  the  author's  book  entitled 
"Bbipal  Gbeetinos,"  &c. 


COURTSHIP   AND   MARRIAGE.  251 

confidence  in  her  heart,  which  assured  her  that  if 
she  could  only  touch  the  hem  of  the  Saviour's  gar- 
ment her  disorder  would  disappear,  put  forth  her 
hand,  in  that  instant  a  healing  virtue  went  forth 
from  Christ,  and  renewed  her  trembling  body.  Di- 
vine power  followed  human  trust.  It  is  ever  thus 
with  those  who  seek  the  gifts  of  God.  No  sooner 
does  a  human  being  bring  a  scriptural  promise,  and, 
with  humility  and  contrition,  ask  God  to  fulfil  it,  — 
not  doubting  but  that  it  is  then  and  there  fulfilled,  — 
than  God  immediately  imparts  his  grace,  and  contin- 
ues to  do  so  as  long  as  the  soul  believes.  To  believe 
God,  and  to  believe  in  God,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances of  life,  are  the  steps  that  lead  infallibly  to  a 
pure  life  on  earth  and  to  a  blissful  eternity  after 
death ;  and  there,  dangers,  trials,  fears,  and  sorrows 
will  never  intrude  their  shadows  to  disturb  the 
happy  inmates,  but  "God  shall  wipe  away  all 
tears  from  their  eyes  ;  and  there  shall  be  no 
more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying  ;  neither 
shall  there  be  any  more  pain,  for  the  former 
things  are  passed  away  !  n 


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