One valuable form of putting down thoughts—next to letter-writing— consists in keeping a journal. I often wonder why our families and schools should encourage almost every thing else, rather than letter- writing and journalizing. Our familiar letters to familiar friends, might often consist of extracts from our daily journals.

But here, again, there has been great error. Journals have usually consisted of the driest details, or exteriors of events. The young should be encouraged to record their feelings in them; their hopes and fears—their anticipations and their regrets—their joys and their sorrows—their repentances and their resolutions. Such journals, with old and young, could not fail to advance the intellect, even if they should not improve the heart.

IV. Music.—Attention to music-vocal music, especially-should always form a part of female education. The day is gone by, as I trust, when it was customary to say that none but the gifted could acquire this accomplishment. It is now, I believe, pretty well understood, that all persons may learn to sing, as well as to read. Not, of course, equally well, in either case; but all can make a degree of progress.

I have called singing an accomplishment; but it seems to me to be much more. Its bearing upon the health, and even upon the intellect, is very great. Even its moral tendency is by no means to be overlooked.

The value of music, to soothe the feelings and cast out the evil spirits which haunt the path of human life, has never yet received that measure of attention which it deserves. Even in those parts of continental Europe, where all the peasants sing, and are accustomed to fill the air with their cheerful and harmonious voices as they go forth to prosecute their daily tasks, no less than in their families—even there, I say, the full power and value of music are not understood. They make it, by far too much, a sort of sensual gratification. Let it be redeemed, for a better and a nobler purpose. Let it become a companion of science and literature, as well as of industry and of virtue—and of religion, still more than all.

V. Lectures and Concerts.—Lectures are often useful, even when they do no more than afford an agreeable means of passing an hour's time. They are not indispensable to those young women who love study; but are more useful as a means of exciting inquiry in those who have very little fondness for it. Besides, there are lectures, at times, on subjects which cannot be found in books; and in such cases they may be specially useful to all.

As for concerts, and parties of all sorts, attended as they usually are in the evening, there are many objections to them—though, as society is now regulated, it may not be best to denounce them altogether. Home is the proper place for young women, as well as for other honest people, after dark; at least this ought to be the general rule.

If lectures, concerts, &c., could be attended in the afternoon, there would be fewer objections to them. Even then, however, there would probably be more or less of intellectual dissipation connected with their attendance. It is to be regretted that time, which is so valuable, cannot be better employed, than in mere running abroad, because others are going.

VI. Studies.—If the young woman could have some judicious friend, male or female, to advise her what books to read, and what studies to pursue—and if the non-essentials in dress, &c., were discarded—I cannot help thinking that life is long enough, to give her an opportunity to become mistress of every thing which is usually thought to belong to a good English education. I will venture to say, that there is hardly a girl of twelve years of age, whose circumstances are so unfavorable, as to prevent her from thus acquiring the keys of knowledge by the time she is twenty-five years of age, could she be directed in a proper manner.

I have spoken of acquiring the keys of knowledge, as if this were the first object of a course of studies. And such I regard it. I know, indeed, that we reap some of the fruits of almost all our acquired knowledge, immediately: still, the greater part remains for years to come.

No young woman should fail to be thoroughly versed in spelling, reading, writing, composition, grammar, geography and arithmetic—and as much as possible, in anatomy, physiology, hygiene, chemistry, botany, natural history, philosophy, domestic and political economy, civil and ecclesiastical history, biography, and the philosophy of the Bible—to say nothing of geology, and the higher branches of mathematics.

One word more in regard to your handwriting. Nothing is more common, in these days, than to write in a most illegible manner—a mere scribble. Now, whatever young men may do in this respect, I beseech every young woman to avoid this wretched, slovenly habit. Hardly any thing appears more interesting to me, in a young woman, than a neat, delicate, and at the same time plain style of hand-writing.

Do not pursue too many studies at once: it is the most useless thing that can be done. Your knowledge, should you get any, would in that way be confused and indefinite, instead of being clear, and practical, and useful to you. I would never pursue more than one or two leading sciences at one time; and in general, I think that one is better than more. If you pursue more than one, let them be such as are related; as geography and history.

Let me say, in closing this chapter, that the great end of all intellectual culture, is to teach the art of _thinking, and of _thinking right_. To learn to think, merely, is to rise only one degree above the brute creation. To learn to think _well_, however, is noble; worthy of the dignity of human nature, and of the Author of that nature.



CHAPTER XXXI. SOCIAL IMPROVEMENT.

Improvement in a solitary state. The social relations. Mother and daughter. Father and daughter. Brother and sister. The elder sister. Brethren and sisters of the great human family. The family constitution. Character of Fidelia. Her resolutions of celibacy. In what cases the latter is a duty. A new and interesting relation. Selection with reference to it. Principles by which to be governed in making a selection. Evils of a hasty or ill-judged selection. Counsellors. Anecdote of an unwise one. Great caution to be observed. Direction to be sought at the throne of grace.

Were there but a single individual in the wide world, that individual, with the laws that woman now has to guide her—laws internal and external, natural and revealed—would be susceptible of endless and illimitable improvement. She might make advances every day—and it would he her duty to do so—upward toward the throne of God, and towards the perfection of him who occupies it.

But if much might be done by an individual in a solitary state, how much more may be accomplished in the social state in which it has pleased our Heavenly Father to place us? It is difficult to turn our eyes in any direction, without being met by numerous and striking proofs of divine wisdom and benevolence; but if there be any one thing in the whole moral world, short of the redemption by Jesus Christ, which overwhelms me with wonder, and leads me to adore more than any thing else, it is the divine wisdom and benevolence, as manifested in the social state allotted to man.

How interesting—how exceedingly so—the relation between a mother and a daughter? And how many blessings—deficient as many mothers are in knowledge and love—are showered upon the head of a young woman, through maternal instrumentality! In no case; however, is this relation more interesting, than when the young woman is just beginning to act for herself. Then, if ever, should she avail herself of them. She knows little of the world before her—either of the dangers on the one hand, or the advantages on the other. Of these, however, the mother knows much. Let the daughter value her society and good counsel above all else human, and lay hold of it as for her life.

How interesting, too, the relation between a wise and good father, and a virtuous and affectionate daughter! I am most struck, however, with this relation—and most reminded of the divine goodness in its institution—when I see a daughter ministering to the wants, moral and physical, of a very aged relative, parent or grandparent; one who is superannuated or sick.

There are, in civilized society—and above all, where the rays of the blessed gospel of the Son of God have been let in—scenes on which angels themselves might delight to gaze, and on which I have no doubt they do gaze with the most intense delight. Would that such scenes were still more frequent! Would that filial love was always what it should be, instead of degenerating into cold formalities.

"How have I been charmed;" says Addison, "to see one of the most beauteous women the age has produced, kneeling to put on an old man's slipper." And so have I. It is a sight which revives one's hopes of fallen nature. No matter if the infirmities of the parent are the consequences of his own folly, vice and crime, the same soft hand is still employed, day after day—and the same countenance is lighted up with a smile, at being able thus to employ it.

But when to the tenderest love on the part of a young woman in this relation, and to the kindest efforts to promote the temporal happiness and comfort of those whom she holds dear is joined a love for the mind and soul; when every opportunity, is laid hold of with eagerness, to inform, and improve, and elevate—and this, too, though the subject of her labor is the most miserable wreck of humanity of which we can conceive; when to works of love are added the warmest prayers, at the bedside and elsewhere, for Almighty aid and favor; the interest of the scene is indescribable. It needs a more than mortal pen or pencil to portray it.

There are other relations of society—relations of the young woman, I mean, in particular—which are of great importance and interest. Among these, are the relations of brother and sister.

Perhaps I am inclined to make too much of the passage of Scripture— already noticed in another chapter—where Cain is said to have been set over Abel, in the very language which is used to signify the superiority of Adam over Eve. And yet it must mean something. There is a mutual dependence between brothers and sisters of every age, which should result in continual improvement—intellectual, moral and religious. The duties involved in this relation, however, will be more especially binding on elder brothers and sisters; and as it appears to me, above all, on elder sisters. Indeed, in this respect, it is impossible for me to be mistaken. An elder sister is a sort of second mother; and she often fulfils the place of a mother. Oh, how important- how sacred—the trust committed to her keeping.

I have seen the care of a large family devolve, by the death of the mother, upon the elder daughter. Instead of her being disheartened at all, I have known her to go forward in the pathway of duty—sensible, at the same time, of her dependence on her Heavenly Father—and not only instruct the other children, but "train them up," in same good degree, "in the way they should go."

Do you think I respected or loved this young woman the less, because she was thus early a house—keeper, a matron, and a mother? Do you think I esteemed her the less, because—exclusive of the common school —she had no seminary of instruction? Her education was a thousand times more valuable than that of the fashionable routine of the schools, without the kind of discipline she had. A world whose females were all educated in the family schools—and especially in the school of affliction, and poverty, and hardship—would be incomparably a better world than one whose young women should "wear soft clothing," and live in "kings' courts"—who should be educated by merely fashionable mothers, amid ease and abundance, and "finished" at the institute or the boarding school.

Let me not be understood, in all this, as undervaluing kind mothers, and boarding schools, and comforts—and luxuries, even—in themselves considered. All I mean to discourage, is, a reliance on them, to the exclusion of other things of more importance. If we could have the latter in the first place—difficulties, hard-ships, hard labor, and adversity—and upon these engraft the former, I should like it exceedingly well. What I dislike is, not ornament, in itself, but ornament on that which is not worth ornamenting; and above all, nothing but ornament.

Let every young woman whose eye meets these paragraphs, rejoice, if she has younger brothers or sisters—or even if she has brothers or sisters at all. The younger may do something for the older, as well as the older much for the younger. And if she is without either, there are probably other and remoter relatives for whom something may be done.

I have alluded, elsewhere, to grand-parents There are usually uncles, aunts and cousin's—sometimes in great numbers. There is much due to these. I know, very well, that out over-refinement, in an over-refined and diseased society, says otherwise, of late; and that our time is expended more and more—especially that of females—on our own dear selves to the exclusion of remoter relatives. But this should not be the case. Whether we have brethren or sisters, properly so called, together with other more distant relatives, or not, we have brethren and sisters. The world is but a great family; and all are brethren, or ought to be so. We should love all—even our enemies—as brethren; but we should love, with the deepest and most enduring affection, those who love God most ardently. "My mother and brethren are they that hear the word of God and do it," said the Saviour; and it is only in proportion as we possess his spirit, that we shall be found to belong, in the truest sense, to his family.

The ties of which I have been speaking, in the preceding paragraphs, will have but poorly answered their purpose, if they have not had the effect to raise us to this universal love referred to by the Saviour. For this they were chiefly instituted; and to this, in the best state of human society, do they tend. They do not lead us to love relations, usually so called, any less: neither did they have this effect on Jesus. But they lead us to love the world at large, more.

If young women would have the spirit of our Lord and Saviour—or if they would be instruments in his hands of hastening the glad day of his more complete reign on the earth and in the hearts of his intelligent family—they must strive to come up to this love of the human family. It is to elevate them to this love, I again say, that the family institution, with all the interesting relations which grow out of it, was instituted. When it has accomplished this work, though it will not cease to be valuable, in the abstract, it will be less valuable relatively—because it will absorb a smaller proportion of our thoughts and affections, and leave a larger proportion for the world in general, and its Creator.

I have quoted, elsewhere, the sentiments of Addison, in regard to the filial affection of daughters. In the same paper, this interesting writer embodies his views on this subject, in the character of a young woman by the name of Fidelia, whose devotion to her father he describes as follows:

"Fidelia is now in the twenty-third year of her age; but the application of many admirers, and her quick sense of all that is truly elegant and noble in the enjoyment of a plentiful fortune, are not able to draw her from the side of her good old father. When she was asked by a friend of her deceased mother to admit the courtship of her son, she answered that she had a great respect and gratitude to her for the overture in behalf of one so near to her; but that during her father's life, she would admit into her heart no value for any thing which should interfere with her endeavors to make his remains of life as happy and easy as could be expected in his circumstances. The happy father has her declaration that she will not marry during his life, and the pleasure of seeing that resolution not uneasy to her."

Now, though I am not quite satisfied with the selfishness of the father, in this case—nor with the notion of Fidelia, that the particular friendship of another would interfere materially with her filial duties—yet I do not undertake to say that there are no cases in which a young woman has the right—the moral right—to make resolutions not unlike that made by Fidelia. It does not seem that her resolution to neglect the society of others for the sake of discharging an important filial duty, was for a longer period, than during the short life of a very decrepid old father.

I have introduced this subject in this place, as the preface to a series of remarks on that particular relation which every young woman— except, perhaps, a few who are situated like Fidelia—ought to be prepared to sustain, and to sustain well. Indeed, I consider this to be paramount, at a suitable age, to every other; and that no duty can, as a general rule, be more obligatory.

He who instituted the law of marriage, has not, indeed, condescended to say how early or in what circumstances this command must be yielded to, or obeyed; but, as a general rule, he requires it to be obeyed, in some form or other, and at some time or other. Or, to express the views I entertain more correctly, I should say, that no young woman, in ordinary circumstances, has a right to resolve to neglect the subject forever—or to say she never will marry. She is to consider the command of the Creator as obligatory, as a general fact, on the whole human race. She must remember, moreover, that if it is binding on the whole, it must be so on the individuals composing that whole.

On these principles the education of every young woman should, as I think, be conducted; and if, by the neglect of parents, masters or guardians, it has not been so, then it should be the aim of the young woman herself, in her efforts at self-education, to supply what has been by others omitted. Some of the items in this work of education have been alluded to—not only in the chapter on "Domestic Concerns;" and in that on "Economy," but elsewhere. My purpose at the present time, is merely to speak of the selection of her society with reference to her future state of life.

This is a subject of the highest importance to the happiness—present and future—of every young woman. The marriage relation, considered only as a means of completing the education of the parties, is one of immense importance. But it is of still greater importance, in reference to other duties which it involves. Hence it requires much forethought and reflection. Let me prevail with you, therefore, when I urge upon you the following considerations:

1. Never think for one moment of the society of any other than a good man. Whatever may be his extrinsic endowments—wit, beauty, talent, rank, property or prospects—all should be as nothing to you, unless his character is what it should be. Of course, I am not encouraging you to look for angelic perfection or purity on this earth; but do not make too many allowances, on the other hand, for frailty. A close examination, as with the microscope, will disclose irregularity and roughness on the most polished or smooth surface: how then will that surface appear which is uneven without the microscope? If it were possible for your associate for life to come apparently near celestial purity and excellence, a closer acquaintance would, most undoubtedly, convince you that he was of terrestrial origin. Do the best you can, therefore, and you will do ill enough.

2. It is not sufficient, however, that the friend you seek should be good—that is, negatively so: he must do good. Multitudes, in these days, pass for good men because they do no harm; or because, at most, they maintain a good standing, and are benevolent in the eye of the world. I know of more than one person in the world, who gives his property by thousands, annually—and whose praise is in all the churches—who never yet gave any thing worth naming, in his life, if the gospel rule on this subject is the correct one—that the widow who of her penury cast into the treasury two mites, in reality cast in more than all they who of their abundance bestowed large and liberal sums.

Let your associate, therefore, be a doer of good, in deed and in truth. This is said, however, with the supposition that you are so yourself; for if I have not already convinced you that the great end for which you were sent into the world is to do good, I shall not expect to do so by any remarks which could be thrown in here. If you are still out of the way, it is to be feared you will remain so: nor shall I expect you —for reasons to be seen presently—to seek the society of those who do not possess the same turn of mind.

3. It is highly desirable that the individual with whom you associate for life, should be something more than merely a good man. This, however, does not explain my meaning. For are there not many of the most excellent persons in the world, whom you would not willingly take for a daily companion? Do you not desire likeness in opinion, taste, purpose, &c.? Might not the two very best persons in the world be unhappy in each other's constant society, if they were exceedingly unlike each other?

In the establishment, then, of this interesting relation, seek by all means an individual who appears to entertain views of social life, as much as possible, like your own. Does he find his happiness in going abroad, or in lounging? Is he impatient in the society of children? Is he a great friend of parade and excitement? And are you the reverse of all this? Do you love most the quiet and retirement of home—and to be surrounded by infancy and childhood? Do you dread, above almost all things in the world, excitement and parade?

Does your friend hate nothing so much as his own thoughts and reflections? Does he dread, also, like the cholera or the plague, all efforts at mental or moral improvement? Does he hate improving conversation—and above all, those books and associates which have the improvement and elevation of the body and spirit, for their great and leading object? And have you a different taste—entirely so? Do you live—do you eat, drink, sleep, wake, exercise, dress, labor, play, converse, read, and think, and pray that you may become wiser, and better, and holier?

In short, is the ultimate object of the one, the gratification of self; and does all, with him, terminate in the external; while the other seeks primarily, in all things, the improvement, the holiness and the happiness of herself and others? How can such persons be suitable companions for each other? Can two walk together, says the Scripture, unless they are agreed—that is, agreed as to the main points and purposes of life?

I know of no being whom I so much pity, as a young woman who, believing, perhaps, that a "reformed rake," once handsome, or it may be, a wit, makes the best companion, becomes chained for life to a stupid, shiftless creature—one whose energies of body and soul are exhausted, and seem unsusceptible of being renovated or restored—one, too, with whom, in that more intimate acquaintance which time and circumstances afford her, proves to be totally unworthy of her hand or her heart!

I have said that I know of no being so pitiable, as a young woman thus situated. I know of none, I mean to say, except a young man in similar circumstances. Did the effects of these unhappy companionships terminate on themselves, the misfortune would not be so great. Woman, at any rate, with her fortitude, might endure it. But it is not usually so; and here is the great evil. Misery is inflicted on a new generation; one that has done nothing to deserve it.

Let me entreat my readers, therefore, while I urge them to regard the companionship of which I am now speaking as a matter of duty, to be exceedingly careful in their selection of a companion. Choose; but do not be in haste. On the wisdom of your choice, much more depends than you can now possibly imagine:—it is for your life. Would you could realize this truth: for though so old and so often repeated that it may appear rather stale, it is not the less true for its age.

Have nothing to do, above all, with those who despise your sex. There is a large number of young men—much larger, indeed, than you may be aware, who have caught the spirit, not to say sentiments, of Byron, in regard to woman.

They have caught them, I say; but this, perhaps, is not so. I will only say they have them. I know not how, as a general fact, they came by them. I can only say that they are often very early imbibed; and that they grow with their growth, and strengthen with their strength. Would to Heaven this utter skepticism in regard to female worth and purity could be removed; or rather prevented. It is the bane of social life—as I could show, were I disposed to do so, by a thousand illustrations.

As a general rule—to which, perhaps, there are some exceptions—it is according to human nature to suspect others to be wanting in those virtues which we are conscious we are wanting in ourselves. Find a person wanting in sterling integrity, and he is the very person to be found complaining of the want of it in others. I will not say that his complaints are not sometimes—indeed, quite too often—just; I only say, that whether just or not, neither his suspicions nor complaints prove them to be so.

Beware, then—I beseech you, beware—of the young man who is ever prating about the innate worthlessness, not to say vice, of your sex. I do not say, reject him forever, simply on suspicion; for that would be to go to the other extreme. But though I have admitted that there may possibly be exceptions in regard to the general rule I have laid down, I also insist that they are rare. Therefore, I again say, be wary in forming your friendships—and especially so, in suffering them to become more and more intimate.

Precisely in these circumstances is it, that you may derive immense benefit from a discreet female friend. But in this, too, you must be deliberate, and use great judgment; for there are many whose views on this subject are such as entirely to disqualify them for the office of an adviser. I remember hearing a lady of great gravity—though of much good sense in all other respects—say, that she thought the friends of a young woman were much more competent to select a companion for her, than she was to make the selection for herself. I was so struck with the remark, that not knowing but I misapprehended her meaning, I ventured to inquire whether she really meant to say, that other people could judge better in regard to selecting a companion for life, than the parties most concerned in the choice. To which she answered, Yes, without hesitation; and immediately went upon a defence of her opinion. I was as little pleased, however, with the defence, as with the assertion; for the whole thing carried absurdity on the very face of it. It cannot, surely, be so; it is contrary to the very nature of things.

I cannot help counselling you to be as wary of such an adviser, as of the friend to whom she would direct your attention. The choice—the final choice—be it never forgotten, rests on you: because on you rests the responsibilities. While, therefore, you seek, with great earnestness, for advice, seek it as advice only. Neither seek, nor admit, in any case, a dictator.

Be it also ever remembered, that it is your duty to sift, with great care, the opinions and views of one in whom you are daily becoming more and more deeply interested. If it be even true, that woman is not distinguished for perseverance, let this fact only stimulate you to use what powers of perseverance you possess. Though you are not to be held responsible for the exercise of talents which you have not, you are to account for what talents you have; and fearful may be the reward of the individual who is found delinquent in the matter before us; fearful in this life, even were it possible to escape punishment in the life to come. Let a comparison, then, be faithfully made of your views on all important subjects:—as female superiority or inferiority; selfishness and benevolence; dress and equipage; education of ourselves and others; discipline—its means, instruments and ends; household management; amassing property; the chief end of human existence; particular duties, &c.

While I would encourage every young woman to look forward to married life as a matter of duty, I am very far from desiring to encourage that indiscriminate conversation, which, among young women, is rather common. Let it be discussed by the young, chiefly in the company of their parents. Above all, let not females be found talking with great interest on this subject in the presence of the other sex. Such conversation, in such circumstances, is evil, and only evil, in its tendency.

Parents may prevent this mistake in young women, if they will. The mother, at least, can prevent it. Where mothers manage the matter as it ought to be managed, you will not find daughters, on going into company, so deeply interested in these matters that nothing seems so to loosen the tongue, light up the countenance, and brighten the eye, as conversation about the latest engagements and marriages, and nothing so much or so quickly interest them in a newspaper, even a religious one, and that, too, on the Sabbath, as the list of marriages. Alas! do mothers or daughters know what are the practical common sense inferences from this conduct, where it greatly abounds.

Remember, moreover, in this matter, as well as in all other matters which concern your own happiness and the happiness of others—in this matter, I might say, which concerns your happiness more than almost all others—to seek the direction of that Being who has said, "If any lack wisdom, let him ask of God." You cannot, surely, obey this first injunction on the human race, without first and always, at every step of your course, seeking for his approbation. You cannot, in one word, be concerned in a duty which may involve the destinies—present and eternal—of millions and millions of human beings, without looking upward toward the throne of God, and soliciting, with all the humility, as well as confidence, of the most devoted child of an earthly parent, that wisdom and guidance which are to be found in all fulness in the Father of lights, and which, when properly apprehended, can never mislead you.



CHAPTER XXXII. MORAL PROGRESS.

Importance of progress. Physical improvement a means rather than an end. The same true of intellectual improvement. The general homage which is paid to inoffensiveness. Picture of a modern Christian family. Measuring ourselves by others. Our Saviour the only true standard of comparison. Importance of self-denial and self-sacrifice. Blessedness of communicating. Young women urged to emancipate themselves from the bondage of fashion, and custom, and selfishness.

After all I have said of the importance of physical, intellectual and social improvement and progress, it is moral progress for which we were, pre-eminently, created. The great end of Christianity itself— to use the words of a learned and eloquent divine—is, to make men better than they were before: but whether or not this expresses the entire truth, one thing is certain—that wherever Christianity fails to make man better, it fails of accomplishing its whole intention respecting him. Perhaps the apostle expressed the idea I would inculcate, in the fewest words and in the clearest manner, when he required his converts to "grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

Mere physical improvement—or even physical perfection, were it attainable—would hardly be worth the pains, if it were any thing more than a means to an end. We might study the subject of health, and practice its excellent rules with the utmost zeal and faithful conscientiousness; and yet it would hardly prove a blessing to us, if it only gave us the more efficiency in the service of the world, the flesh and the devil. And the same, or nearly the same, may be said of intellectual improvement and progress. Though the general tendency of both—when conscience is properly trained and the heart set right—is beneficial, yet it is not necessarily so, without a right heart and correct conscience. Satan is not wanting—so to speak—in intelligence or physical energy.

Physical and intellectual development and progress, therefore, are little more than means to secure an end. If they prove to be what it was the original intention of the Creator they should be, they are eminently conducive to our highest interests, both as respects this world and the world which is to come. If otherwise, they do but accelerate, and in the end aggravate, our doom. They tend but to make our condemnation the more sure, and the more dreadful.

I have urged, elsewhere, the importance of conscientiousness in every thing we do: let me especially recommend you to make continual progress in excellence or holiness, a matter of conscience. Do not be continually measuring yourself—above all, your spiritual self—by your neighbors. If you are the true disciple of Christ, and if you are what a Christian should be in this land of Christianity, you will not indulge yourself in comparisons with any but the Saviour himself. You will be daily and hourly striving to possess more and more of his spirit; in the belief that without the spirit of Christ, you neither are nor can be his.

It is painful to think of the great number of individuals who go through life—often through a long life—and yet accomplish so little for themselves and others. That they are free from outward immorality or blame—as much so at least as their neighbors—seems to satisfy them. Some of the best families I know, are trained in this way. They are excellent people; they are disciples of Christ, if there are any such in the world: we cannot say aught against them, if we would. They seem to discharge all the external duties of our holy religion with a most scrupulous exactness; and they seem—the whole family—to bear the image of Christ. Whatever is true or lovely, is theirs; or appears to be so.

And yet, if you examine closely the matter, you will find that much of all this is the result of circumstances. They possess, by inheritance, a happy temper—or they are in circumstances which make virtue easy to them.

But the spirit and genius of Christianity require a great deal more than mere inoffensiveness—though that is, of itself, certainly, a great deal. They require continual progress from glory to glory. But this progress can only be made amid self-denial and cross-taking. "Whoso taketh not up his cross," daily and hourly, is not a true disciple of the great Teacher. It is even through "much tribulation" only, that we can enter into the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour.

Now, to what self-denials, what tribulations, what taking up of the cross, do these easy, lovely families of which I am speaking, ever subject themselves? Trained happily, they are generally healthy—and therefore they have few trials from sickness. They live in the midst of abundance, and always have done so—abundance of food, clothing, &c., and of what they regard as of the best quality. They have more than heart can wish: their eyes, as it were, stand out with fatness. They know nothing of want: they know nothing even of inconvenience—except for some hapless moment, when a neighbor gets a little ahead of them in the fashion of their dress, their equipage, or their tables. Then a feeling of envy—peradventure a half expressed feeling of detraction— appears to mar, for a short time, their peace.

I have said that these inoffensive people—these do-no-harm Christians —know nothing of want. When and where have they cut themselves short of any thing to which they were lawfully entitled, for the sake of doing good to others? They have, indeed, performed works of charity and mercy, as much as other people of their own property and standing in society. But they have given, always, of their abundance. They have never so given as to impoverish the giver—so as to make themselves feel the least privation. They have visited the sick: but when has the time they have given, seriously incommoded them? Have they not had time enough left for their own purposes? Have they not, in this respect, given of their abundance? Perhaps they have clothed the poor, to some extent; but have they denied themselves to do it? Have not their closets, and houses, and the neighboring livery stable, been well furnished and supplied, notwithstanding? Have they not given, in this respect, wholly of their abundance—and not, like the good woman mentioned in the gospel, of their penury?

It is exceedingly painful, I say again, to find professedly good people among us living, as Watts calls it, at such a poor, dying rate; the professed disciples of a Master who became poor for their sakes, by giving up, not only the luxuries of life, but even many of its necessaries—and yet not giving up or denying themselves a single thing all their lives long.

Can such people expect to make advances in holiness—to grow in grace and in the knowledge of Christ—and yet not act like him, or follow him? For be it always remembered—the benefits of doing good are to those who do it, more than to those to whom it is done. This is the ordination and arrangement of Providence. "It is more blessed to give than to receive." How sad a mistake, then, is made by those who seem—from their conduct—to think there is little happiness in giving; and that their charities abridge, by so much, their happiness, instead of adding to it.

Young woman, should it be your lot to belong to one of these happy and excellent families—for I do not deny that they are among our best people, after all, though they are very far from having, as yet, come up to the self-denying, self-sacrificing spirit of the Lord that bought them, and become willing to be poor, and to suffer not a little want of time, money, &c. for even their own apparent necessities, temporal or spiritual—I say, if in the providence of God, you have been accustomed to see almost the whole time and labor of a family, with the avails of a handsome, or at least respectable property, used up year after year by that family, in eating, and drinking, and sleeping, and dressing comfortably—in mere passive enjoyment, in one word—while the blessedness of active enjoyment, in the doing of good to others, has been hardly known—be it yours to break the chain that binds this circle of selfishness, and go forth to the work of impoverishing yourself, as did your Lord and Master. Think not to make any considerable moral progress, otherwise! The soul must have food, as well as the body. This continual indulgence of the body, while the soul is unfed, or only fed just enough to keep it from starving, will never do for you. If you yield to the influence of this fashionable kind of excellence, and strive not to rise higher, I will not say that you will live to little purpose; but I will say, that you will have but very little of real, valuable, immortal life, till you pass beyond the bounds of time and space. Whereas, you ought to begin your heaven here. For "this is the will of God, even your sanctification;" and it was the prayer of Paul concerning some to whom he wrote—"The God of peace sanctify you wholly."

Will you not, then, O young woman! in view of these considerations, seek for deliverance from the spell that binds thousands and millions of otherwise good people to a narrow, selfish circle, in which they continually wander—coming round and round again, every night, to the same spot, or nearly the same, but making no considerable progress? Will you not study, and labor, and pray, for more and more of the spirit of Him, who not only stripped himself of every glory to which he, had been accustomed, but, instead of retaining that which was his divine right, deprived himself of every thing which is calculated to make life comfortable in the common sense of the term, and only sought his happiness in perfecting holiness in the fear of God, by living and dying for his brethren—the whole human family? Will you not henceforth study to be more and more conformed to the Divine image—and to act less and less in conformity with a world whose predominating motive to action, is selfishness?

THE END