180 INFANT CHARACTER. felt how dearly it was earned, and gave way to an involuntary burst of tears and struggling reluctance at the bitterness of a thraldom that seemed to set the buoyancy of my young spirit at naught. I wept strongly and despondingly. And my mother (and how many such conflicts a mother goes through) took back the work and said, "You need not do it; you may go to school and say your lessons, and then fold your hands and do nothing." But this despicable picture suited not me. The representation arrested my sorrow. I dried my tears. I put forth my heroic hand, took again the work, and paced off to school, with a resigned if not a reconciled spirit; for this little tempest had cleared the moral atmosphere, and a renovation of spirit and of purpose took place. How desirable must be that state of being where such things are not! Some reader may think that this is too severe a sort of martyrdom of the infant spirit. But no; I am convinced in my own case that though a suffering at the time, yet was it a necessary discipline to a character so vagrant as mine would have been, in its aspirations and its greediness of novelty and change; besides that, at the age of seven years-then advanced to another school-I had acquired a neat and orderly needlework, never again to be forgotten, though intermitted for many succeeding years of my book education. And the enduring discipline of the time, it seems to me, was an outshadowing and a preparation of spirit for more important performances and heavier burdens of my life as it has been. Ma'am Tenty also taught us a short Bible catechism, which included the decalogue, and every child who could read was diligently and constantly taught in the Bible and New Testament. With the erudite observance of saying "paragraph" whenever we came to the character which designated one, I remember having a great sense of importance when I was first able to call so large a word; and afterwards this changed to a sort of wonder why they need be so particular about a thing which I supposed had no significance; for I had never been told that it had, and I was too young to guess it out myself. I recollect several others of my ideas about this time, which have since explained themselves; and one was, how grown people could be disturbed by noise-say the uproar of children at play; but my primest wonder was how a person could use a book and not make dog's ears! O, infant marvel, how many things a little in advance of this are as yet unexplained to us! book, by Mrs. Barbauld, in a sort of loud, fast recitative. It commences, "Child of mortality, whence comest thou? why is thy countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping?" And I well recollect that the impressive mysteriousness of the words, and also the grandiloquence of the performance, filled all the depth and the aspirations of my infant spirit. Of this school I would not say so much, excepting that I mean, after having described it, with its limitations, and its deficiencies, to say that it was quite as satisfactory to me-and every child has some consciousness of this sort-inasmuch that I felt that I was gaining and progressing-that, according to my age, I was doing enough, and was behaving well. It was the satisfaction of self-approval-not surely at that age argued out, but now recollected and my feelings compared and contrasted whilst attending some other schools in the progress of my education. And let the parent notice that this was effected by an individual comparatively ignorant, or only competent to teach the short course which she did teach. But this good and suitable progress, and propriety, were effected by her positiveness of discipline, and by her faithful and thorough performance of all that she professed to teach them. One of her cast would hardly now be allowed to retain a school. That is the parents' error, and their children's loss. But at her date there was many a family of which two generations had received their initiatory education with her, and this not for the want of other schools, but by preference. I will add, my sister and I, often gave each other our best doll not to tell at home that we had been corrected at school. Yet will I attest that I believe there was no injustice, and that her school would not have been half as effective with a less positive government; for what is government, if it is not positive! I believe her measures were only commensurate to her purposes. At all events I for one acknowledge, through my life, that the most distinct and positive reliance which I have on the infallibility of perseverance, was gained with Ma'am Tenty. MENTORIA. It has been said, that men carry on a kind of coasting trade with religion. In the voyage of life, they profess to be in search of heaven, but take care not to venture so far in their approximations to it, as entirely to lose sight of the earth; and should their frail vessel be in danger of shipwreck, they will gladly throw their darling vices overboard, as other mariners their treasures, only to fish them up again, when the storm is over. To steer a course that shall secure both worlds, Many onerous things we performed with Ma'am Tenty. But her chief merit lay not so much in what she bestowed, or the acquirement of her pupils, as in|| is still, I fear, a desideratum, in ethics, a thing unatour constant occupation and our obedience. She had some little peculiarities of routine. For instance, every Saturday morning-for our recess was of only half that day—she arranged her whole school, large and small, around the room, and those who could not read, could at least make as much noise as others, and all sung out together a piece in the end of our reading tained as yet, either by the divine or the philosopher, for the track is discoverable only by the shipwrecks that have been made in the attempt. John Wesley quaintly observed, that the road to heaven is a narrow path, not intended for wheels, and that to ride in a coach here and to go to heaven hereafter, was a happiness too much for man! A NIGHT IN THE ITINERANCY. Original. A NIGHT IN THE ITINERANCY. On the second Sabbath in August I had rode several miles, and preached twice. On descending from the pulpit, I accepted an invitation to accompany to his home one whose humble but hospitable dwelling is a desirable resting place after the fatigues of the day. From the valley in which the church is located, we followed the meanderings of a small stream, until we were brought to the upland, a distance of a mile, where || dwelt the family with which I was to lodge. The house was what is familiarly known in the country as a "double cabin." On entering, such was the neatness of the apartment to which I was introduced, that I promised myself a refreshing night's repose. It was my first visit, and I had yet to become acquainted with the different members of the household. But this was soon done. The frankness and cheerfulness with which I was welcomed, made me forget that they were strangers, and regard myself as among old acquaintances. It had been one of the most sultry days of the summer; and the sun, which had shone excessively hot, had sunk low towards the horizon. In order to enjoy the light breezes which were beginning to blow from the west, I seated myself in a door that opened northward. Here I was fanned by the breeze, and witnessed in the meantime the rising of a dark cloud, which had just covered the sun, and was careering eastwardly with great sublimity. By the aid of the beautiful language of the prophet, "The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet," the transition was natural from the clouds to Him whose pavilion they are. I was enjoying such meditations as the scene suggested, when my attention was suddenly attracted by a slight noise in the direction of the bed, in which, it seems, I was to sleep for the night. It was like the noise of a kitten playing upon the floor. I turned to see. To my surprise I found it was caused by a large copper-head. It had fallen from the bed, and was gently creeping under it, unconscious of being observed. The poisonous reptile was soon stretched life- || less on the green before the door. The next thing was to determine how he had made his entrance, for none had before been seen about the house. This, however, was a mystery, and opinions were as various as the company was numerous. The day closed. The dark cloud had spread over the whole sky, and for nearly two hours had poured its contents upon the thirsty soil. After offering the evening sacrifice, I prepared for bed. The strange occurrence of the afternoon was nearly forgotten. Other topics had been introduced, as if nothing had happened, and all domestic arrangements went on as usual. Preparatory to my lying down, the lady of the house was arranging the bed, when, stopping suddenly, with looks which cannot be described, she exclaimed, "A snake! another snake!" In an instant all hands were on the spot. It was lying on one of the logs near the head of the bed. We drew the bed from the wall in order 181 to get at the offender; but the serpent made good his retreat through a hole in the floor, leaving us to wonder where the matter would end. The bed and bedding were then carried into the middle of the room, and carefully examined, that there might be no more serpents concealed in or about it. Here, notwithstanding the entreaties of my kind friends to take another bed, I determined to sleep. Accordingly, the family retired, and I extinguished my light, and got in bed, full of many thoughts on the strange incidents I had witnessed, and the probability that there might yet be some of the tribe not far off. I had no sooner laid my head upon the pillow, and quieted myself, than I heard something crawl under me. What could it be? A snake! a venomous copper-head! It could be nothing else! For once my imagination was fruitful. I could hear itsee it feel it. In a moment I was on the floor. But that was poor relief. The house was surely infested with them! I thought at every step to tread on one. Nor was the constant glare of the lightning in the room any relief to my apprehensions-rather, it confirmed them by revealing every thing in the shape of a huge copper-head. Indeed, had I been with Sinbad in his diamond valley, I could not have seen more serpents than now surrounded me. But I soon got a light. Not a snake could now be seen; but the cause of my alarm proved to be in the under bed. As it was raining hard, we concluded to secure whatever it was as a prisoner in the bed, and therefore laid it aside until morning. Such was the reaction of my feelings upon finding so few serpents where I had expected to find so many, that I was determined to sleep in that bed at all hazards. Accordingly, after spreading some heavy quilts upon the cords, and putting the feather bed upon them, I again laid me down, and slept without farther disturbance until morning. In the morning early, the under bed was carried into an open place, and all hands appeared, armed for the battle, fully determined to wage a war of extermination upon the snake that had caused so much alarm. While the bed was carefully opened, there was silence and fear, lest the enemy should escape, or some of us be wounded in the rencontre. To the no small merriment of the belligerents, a "ridiculous mouse" came forth, and the tragedy ended in its death. 444 ITINERANT. THAT politeness which we put on, in order to keep the assuming and the presumptuous at a proper distance, will generally succeed. But it sometimes happens, that these obtrusive characters are on such excellent terms with themselves that they put down this very politeness to the score of their own great merits and high pretentions, meeting the coldness of our reserve with a ridiculous condescension of familiarity, in order to set us at ease with ourselves. To a bystander few things are more amusing than the cross play, underplot, and final eclaircissements which this mistake invariably occasions. |contemporary, Alcaeus, who calls her "the violetcrowned, pure, sweetly smiling Sappho." After the death of her companion, she most probably devoted herself to literary pursuits. She gathered around her a number of young Lesbian females whom she instructed in music and poetry. To these she became exceedingly attached, while they regarded her with the highest veneration and affection. These mutual attachments were of the most lasting as well as intimate and endearing character. Of all the females of antiquity no one holds a more conspicuous situation-and deservedly so-than the Lesbian poetess Sappho. She was a native of Mytilene, in the island of Lesbos, and born about the year 600, B. C. Who her parents were is not certainly known. Heroditus informs us her father's name was By the persuasions of Alcaeus she was induced to Scamandronymus; and it is generally supposed her join him in his opposition to Pittacus. This step inmother's name was Kleis. As was stated in the last volved her in many difficulties; for when Alcaeus and number, Sappho was a contemporary of Pittacus and his adherents were banished from Lesbos, she also was the poet Alcaeus. Of her early history we know but compelled to leave. She aftewards took up her abode little. She seems to have received a liberal education in Sicily. Of her subsequent history we know nothing. in early life, and to have imbibed a taste for literature; As a writer, Sappho was esteemed so highly as to be for at this period female character was not so lightly es-denominated the "Tenth Muse." It is related of Soteemed nor her influence so little appreciated as it after-lon, the great Athenian lawgiver, who was also a conwards became in the more corrupt days of the republic. temporary of our authoress, that on a certain occasion, The social influences of the heroic state of society had having heard his nephew recite one of her poems, he not yet been entirely destroyed. exclaimed that he would not willingly die till he had committed it to memory. Indeed, the whole voice of antiquity has declared that the poetry of Sappho was unrivaled in grace and sweetness. This decision has been confirmed by posterity, though we have only a few verses remaining of her poetic effusions; for these are of a high character, and stamped with the true impress of genius. The Lesbians were so sensible of her merits, and the glory they received from her talents, that after her death they paid her divine honors, and erected temples and altars to her memory. The Ro Sappho was early married to a man of great wealth and influence, whose name was Cercolas. Her husband dying soon after the birth of a daughter-to|| whom the maternal name of Kleis was given-she seems to have devoted her time entirely, or nearly so, to literary pursuits. It is oftentimes extremely difficult, from the mass of fiction which has enveloped the lives of nearly all the writers of antiquity, to select those things which are true from those which are false. This is particularly the case in regard to Sappho. The accounts respect-mans also honored her with a noble statue of porphyry. ing her are various, and oftentimes contradictory. By some she is represented as having, after the death of her husband, had many admirers; but one only gained her affections-the youthful Phaon; that he subsequently treated her attentions with cold indifference, and finally, to avoid her, withdrew to Sicily; that she followed him, and endeavored in vain, by the sweetness of her muse, to soften the obduracy of his heart; and that at last, from grief and disappointment, she retired to the promontory of Leucate, in Acarnania, and thence cast herself into the sea-it being generally believed that whoever survived the "Leucadian leap," became entirely cured of the passion of love. Her works comprised nine books of odes, besides elegies, epigrams, and other pieces of various character. These were all extant in the time of the Roman poet Horace, or about the commencement of the Christian era. They have since nearly all perished, having been destroyed, as some have alledged, together with the works of Mimnermus, by the priests of Constantinople. For the beautiful Hymn to Venus, from which the following extract is made, we are indebted to Dionysius of Halicarnassus, the Roman historian, who quotes it as a model of perfection in poetry of this character. Our readers will be able, from this and the other specimens which follow, to form some tolerably correct idea of the style of our authoress, although ev Many of the difficulties, however, which have hitherto invested this subject have been removed by the la-ery thing of this kind must necessarily lose much of bors of modern philologists, who have pretty satisfacto- its beauty by being translated from one language to anrily proved the existence of a second Sappho, a woman other. We quote from the translation of F. Faulkes, of suspicious character, who was also a native of Les- Esq., as found in the London Classical Family Library. bos, although not of Mytilene. To this latter the al"The radiant car your sparrows drew; ledged errors of Sappho, and the Leucadian leap, ought You gave the word, and swift they flew, most probably to be attributed, and not to the poetess. Through liquid air they winged their way: This second Sappho probably lived about 150 years after the first; and it would be very easy for subsequent historians to confound the actions of the two, especially as they were both natives of the same island. To the good moral character of the poetess, as well as the beauty of her person, we have the testimony of her I saw their quivering pinions play- DISOBEDIENT CHILDREN. 183 "Why didst thou call me to thy cell The ode from which the above extract is taken, together with another of a similar character, are the only compositions of this authoress which time has spared us entire. They are both written in the Sapphic measure-a measure of surpassing sweetness and beauty, of which she was the inventor, and which the poet Horace afterwards introduced with great success in Latin poetry. Besides these, we have two or three epigrams, and several short fragments of her poems, written on various subjects. From these last we shall select but two-the first of which appears to be part of a poem addressed to an illiterate, arrogant female, who was proud of her beauty and riches. The other is on the rose. "Whene'er the Fates resume thy breath, No bright reversion shalt thou gain; Nor e'en thy memory remain; For thy rude hand ne'er pluck'd the roso To Pluto's mansions shalt thou go, The stern inexorable king, Among th' ignoble shades below, A vain, ignoble thing; While honor'd Sappho's muse-embellished name Shall flourish in eternity of fame." ON THE ROSE. "Would Jove appoint some flower to reign In reading these beautiful extracts, the mind experiences mingled emotions of pleasure and sadness. We feel delight in the sweetness and softness which appears so conspicuous. But what produces that undefinable, indescribable feeling, bordering on sadness, yet which can hardly be called such, that gently and almost imperceptibly steals over our minds? We have got beyond the reach of Christianity! We are treading on heathen soil! In vain we look for any allusions whatever to the Christian's God. His handiwork, indeed, is dwelt upon with delight. But he-their great Original-is no where seen. Jupiter and his companions have usurped his throne. The future state of existence is alluded to; but it is only the regions of Pluto, or the fancied Elysium of a sinful mind. Why do we dwell with greater delight upon the writings of Hannah More, or Mrs. Hemans, or our own Mrs. Sigourney, than upon the equally melodious strains of the Lesbian minstrel? Simply because the former breathe through all their writings the spirit of Christianity, while the latter chills us with the cold and gloomy atmosphere of heathenism. Had Sappho been possessed of the Bible, she might have taken her stand beside those just mentioned, the sweetness of whose strains will ever cheer and soothe the Christian heart. But as it is we must part from her with the sad feelings of those who have enjoyed the sweet intercourse of an hour-whose sympathies have been enkindled by her delicate touchbut whose separation must be for eternity. We part to meet no more! She has long since gone to reap the fruits of heathenism in the eternal world, while we, by the light of divine revelation, "seek a better countryeven an heavenly." From the Mother's Magazine. DISOBEDIENT CHILDREN. Two great evils are often found in the nursery; one is a want of proper efforts to provide suitable employment; the other is a neglect to secure strict and prompt obedience. Most children will and must, in some way, be busy. Their little active minds will not suffer their hands or feet to rest while they can keep their eyes open; and so they trudge about from moment to moment, and from place to place, in search of something to do. Love of occupation is almost the only occasion why intelligent and active children are more often upbraided as meddlesome and disobedient. They see all around them busy, and they "would be busy too." The consequence of such restless activity is that the most capable children in very early life are often "spoiled children." They are indiscriminately judged and punished, as if their intentions were always mischievous and ugly: whereas, it may be they are only using those powers and faculties with which they were endowed by an allwise Creator for wise and good purposes. We sometimes hear even a mother, who claims to be indulgent, in an angry tone employ some such harsh, undignified, unwomanly exclamations as the following: "Henry, you little villain! what are you about there?" " You ugly boy, you are always in mischief." "Stop, Henry, I say stop! stop instantly, or I'll tell your father." "Henry, if you dont leave off your ugly tricks, I'll give you to that old beggar-man." "If you meddle with that again I'll take off your skin-I'll take off your ears." No language could seemingly be better calculated to arouse the angry and resentful feelings of a spirited boy, than such rough, frequent, and indiscriminate censures. It serves to blunt their perceptions of right and wrong, and to injure their susceptibilities to pleasure and pain in their intercourse with their parents, brothers and sisters. After such treatment and such examples, who could wonder to see a little urchin, with a shrug of the shoulder and a menacing air, give the quick and tart reply, "I'll take off your ears." It is presumed that inconsiderate parents do often punish such active children in a manner altogether disproportionate to the nature of the offense. But how inconsistent and ruinous to correct a child at one time for some trifling act or indiscretion, because the mother happens to be busy, or was in a fretful mood, when at another period, while all was quiet, some flagrant act || few set lessons. O, the fatal delusion of parents who of disobedience would be passed by in silence. plead that they have not time to teach their children Ah, how much time, trouble, pain and expense would those things which God has commanded to teach dilibe saved if the faults of children were seasonably and gently, and in the very way infinite wisdom directs! properly corrected. It is worthy of serious inquiry,|| Not time to teach their children to read the Bible, and to whether parents do not often correct the faults of their explain its heavenly precepts, such as "he that will not children with the greatest severity, when they have the|| work neither let him eat," or "the eye that mocketh at least time to elicit truth and to investigate facts, and do the work thoroughly and correctly, simply because they allow themselves on trifling occasions to come under the excitement of anger and unholy resentment. his father, and refuseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it, and young eagles shall eat it." Not time to teach their little daughters to read, and knit, and sew-to assist their mother in her domestic Let us suppose such a case. Little Henry, on a toils-to nurse the younger children-to tend upon the Monday morning, (washing-day,) when every hand is table-to keep the house in order, &c., &c. Not time fully employed, spies the lamp-filler on a shelf. His to teach their sons to wait upon their mother and sisdesire is to try his dexterity to fill lamps. Quick as ters-to collect the scattered wood and chips, and build thought he draws a chair near the dresser, mounts on their mother's fire-to clean the yard-feed the chicktiptoe, tries to reach the desired object. He however ens-look after the younger children, &c., &c., when upsets the filler, and the oil is profusely spilled upon probably, if the true reason were assigned for such neghis clean clothes, dresser and carpet, and the child re-lects it would be found to have originated in an indifceives a severe flogging. Had his experiment succeed-ferent, indolent and incredulous belief as to the good ed, the whole house, perhaps, would have been called effects of such training, and an unwillingness to persetogether, and with acclamations of applause, would lit-vere and wait till success should reward their efforts. tle Henry's smartness have been extolled. But, as it Let us consider the probable results of such daily happened, the child's punishment was graduated by the||and habitual efforts to keep children busily employed, trouble he unintentionally occasioned, and not by the nature and extent of the crime. Little Henry was to blame, and deserved censure, but no more in this instance than if he had displaced an article that could not have been injured, and in the doing of which no harm had followed. We repeat it, that probably no one thing ruins so many families as the incessant blame which is heaped upon children for mere trifles-the very way to defeat all good government. and to make them obedient. They will be made to acquire habits of industry-to avoid the company of the idle, the vicious and the profane-to acquire a taste for rural pleasures-to love their home-to respect their parents. They learn to sympathize with their mother in all her labors, perplexities and necessities, and they are Indeed, if this child had never been told not to touch more ready to help her to bear her burdens, and more this utensil, it is easy to suppose, under such circum-careful not to add to her trials. stances, he might have been more benefited if his mother had patiently borne the trial, and appealed to his sympathy for her, than by fretting or fault finding, or by inflicting corporeal punishment. If a child meddles with things that he has been warned not to touch or handle, and he disobeys, then he deserves to be punished severely, whether any disastrous consequences follow his disobedience or not. This one truth ought to be engraven upon the heart and mind of every parent, that no conduct of children, old or young, requires so heavy a hand in the way of correction as disobedience to a parent's command. We believe that many a mother who flatters herself that she does most religiously desire to secure the obcdience of her children, and to teach them "the right| way," deceives herself by overlooking the divine direction to "give them line upon line, line upon line, precept upon precept, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little," injudiciously substituting a plan of her own for that of divine appointment. But how delusive this hope, the result of indolence, imbecility and unbelief, that a mother may safely remit the ten thous and lessons, the care, the watchfulness, the anxiety which the training of immortal beings must ever involve, improving every passing event and turning it to good account, in the belief that by patiently waiting till her children are old enough to comprehend the| reason of things, all their faults may be corrected by a THE FAREWELL. "There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary are at rest." YE flatt'ring scenes of earth, adieu! Thou tempting world, farewell! I go my Savior's face to view, O life! what are thy shadows now- Ye cares that tore my anxious breast, O that I e'er should heave a sigh! J. W. |