fixed the superstitious gaze of Chaldean shepherds, or entered into the calculations of a horoscope. A few years since, while the writer was residing in one of the beautiful cities which gem our "Stern and rock-bound coast," he was startled in his study one morning, by the apparition of one of the most forlorn-looking objects upon which his eyes had ever rested; a mere boy, if we might judge from the brightness of his locks, and the down upon his cheek; but otherwise so haggard, so weather-beaten, so broken by precocious dissipation, that he might easily have passed for a veteran. He sank into a chair by my side, and poured his confessions into my ear. He had for three years, unknown to his friends, been a rover on the seas; and, during that time, had endured every hardship, and had been initiated into almost every vice. He showed me his side, which had been crushed by a blow, received at the capture of a whale, and if I rightly remember one of his arms was still in a sling, from the effects of the brutality of the greatest monster which either earth or sea produces the drunken master of a vessel. But my sailor boy had come not to complain of his physical sufferings, but to weep over and deplore the debasement of his soul. What was it which awoke that soul to remorse, and caused it thus to "Drop the balmy dews of sweet repentance?" Let me answer in his own words, as nearly as I can remember them. "Last night," he began, "as I was wandering, houseless and friendless, through a certain street of this city, my attention was suddenly arrested by some old familiar notes, which stole like a spell over my spirit. I dared not enter the house from which they issued, much as I wished it, and still I could not go away. It was three years since I had heard those notes of devotion for the last time, and that was in my mother's cottage, the very night I ran away.' About three weeks later, as I was passing along one of the streets of that city, a well-dressed, cheerful-looking young man. stepped briskly over from the opposite side, and, grasping my hand, inquired, "Do you not remember me, the sailor boy?" for he saw I was somewhat at a loss to know who it was. 66 did as you told me, and have been happy ever since." "But your mother?" I began to inquire. 'O, sir, I "Yes, yes, I have already written to enclose to her the first money my work brought me; and, he added with a beaming countenance, the next I receive shall carry me to her feet, for her forgiveness and blessing. Oh then, ye mothers! believe not that the seeds ye sow in the heart of your child with tremulous hand, and tearful but heavenward eye, are to be forever lost. The beloved object of so much tenderness and care, may wander from the home of his infancy, through every clime and over every troubled sea, but Arctic frosts will not fatally chill those first buddings of piety and virtue; torrid suns will not parch them; old ocean will not swallow them up. Only do your duty to your child; hide not from him the path of heaven; teach him to love God and man, and the very word mother will prove a talisman amid all the perils and disasters of life. I would adopt, then, the noble apostrophe to his country-women with which Aime-Martin closes a little volume, that appears like an oasis among the wastes and stagnant waters of French litera ture. "Oh woman! could you only see one of the miracles promised to maternal influence, with what a noble pride would you enter upon that career which has so generously opened future ages to your endeavors. That which it is not in the power of any monarch or nation to accomplish, it is given to your will to execute. When, on the play-ground and the public walks, I see on all sides, the happy crowds of children, my heart trembles with joy at the thought that they yet belong to you. Let each mother, then, devote herself to the happiness of her own children; for in each individual happiness, God has placed the promise of general happiness. Young maidens, young wives, young mothers, you hold the sceptre in your souls in which, more than in the laws of a legislature, now repose the futurity of the nation, the world, and the destinies of the human race." Dansville, N. Y., Oct., 1849. GROWING OLD TOGETHER. You have promised that through life We shall journey heart-united, And I trust the vow thus plighted, Hand in hand, and side by side, 'Through life's storms and sunny weather, What if Time's unsparing wing Lose the many that are left us. Why repine with feeble heart, Shall we not grow old together? Few indeed have been our years, Yet enough our hearts to bind, love; In Life's brightest cup we find, love! We two sported on the heather, That we should grow old together. Written for the Mother's Assistant. THE AFFECTIONATE CHILD. BY SEWALL C. STROUT. I SAUNTERED forth one beautiful afternoon, over the fields and meadows, here stopping to pick a few fine strawberries which tempted my palate, and there plucking an opening lily, which grows wild in almost every meadow, when my attention was aroused by the presence of a beautiful little girl, apparently about six years of age, who, a few steps from me, was busily engaged in gathering the richest clusters of the strawberries at her feet. Her glossy ringlets hung in sweet profusion upon her neck, and her smiling countenance, denoting a heart free from the wither ing blight of actual sin, and animated with the enjoyment of those happy affections which ever impart to it a pleasant glow, resembled in sweetness of expression the songs of those joyful, woodland minstrels, who, early in the morning, and until the sombre shades of evening, utter their musical notes, teaching happiness and contentment to erring man. Finding myself unperceived, I paused to notice her movements. Presently she stooped and plucked one of the richest clusters I ever saw, and with a joyful exclamation, placed it in her bosom, saying, "I will save this for my dear mother; and this," at the same time plucking another, "for my little brother." The incident impressed me, that she had a kind mother, who had, in the training of her children, adopted those means which resulted in securing their good will, a thing so essential in making them faithful and affectionate. I approached the little girl, who till now was unconscious of my presence; and, after a short conversation, requested permission to accompany her to her mother. She modestly replied, "My mother would be glad to see you; I accordingly went. The appearance of her residence struck me forcibly that it was the abode of comfort, taste and contentment. On entering, I found the mother engaged in her domestic duties. Her countenance was the very picture of happiness, reflecting a heart which overflowed with every Christian grace. I congratulated her upon her success, in imparting to the mind of the little girl who had attracted my attention, those principles of obedience and filial love, which seemed to animate her bosom; and inquired what system she had adopted in her training to produce this effect. She replied that it had ever been her practice to award to her children due praise for every virtuous act, and when detected in a fault, instead of severely punishing, she resorted to the efficacy of kind reproof, and thus far she had been successful. 66 My children," said she, "are very obedient, and do every thing in their power to make me happy. Every day, the little girl which you met in the field, brings me some choice strawberries, or a handful of flowers, carefully selected and arranged by herself, which I am forced to accept; and at night when she retires, she invariably comes to kiss me and bid me good-night." I was much impressed with the scene, and the thought forced itself upon my mind, that if parents would generally adopt the course of this amiable lady, and exercise kindness and forbearance toward the faults of their children, rather than resort to harsh words and harsh treatment, they would be much happier themselves, and would secure to themselves more obedient and affectionate children. Portland, Me., Oct., 1849. FOREVER WITH THE LORD. Then we which are alive, and remain, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air; AND SO SHALL WE EVER BE WITH THE LORD. I Thess. iv. 17. FOREVER with the Lord! O, can it be, That this bright promise is for child of earth? That for the sons of frail mortality, Is given this heritage of priceless worth? Forever with the Lord! Then to thy heart, Forever with the Lord! Let this sure word Their Saviour's call to join the Christian strife. Forever with the Lord! Soon shall the light Then let us cast away the works of night, And take God's armor ere that night be gone. Forever with the Lord! Then, at the last, We which remain shall meet Him in the air; Forever with the Lord! Ages shall roll Onward in ceaseless flow, yet still with Him Equal to that of brightest seraphim! Banner of the Cross. |