The Christian Father's Present to His Children

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The American Congress, soon after the declaration of Independence, passed the following motion: "Whereas, true religion and good morals are the only solid foundation of public liberty and happiness,

"Resolved, that it be, and hereby is, earnestly recommended by the several States, to take the most effectual measures for the encouragement thereof, and for the suppression of theatrical entertainments, horse-racing, gaming, and such other diversions as are productive of idleness, dissipation, and a general depravity of principles and manners."

Now must not this be regarded in the light of very strong presumptive evidence of the immoral tendency of the theater? Does it not approach as near as can be to the general opinion of the whole moral world?

But let us examine the average character of those productions which are represented on the theater. If we go to TRAGEDY, we shall find that pride, ambition, revenge, suicide, the passionate love of fame and glory—all of which Christianity is intended to extirpate from the human bosom—are inculcated by the most popular plays in this department of the drama. It is true, gross cruelty, murder, and that lawless pride, ambition, and revenge, which trample on all the rights and interests of mankind, are denounced—but I would ask, who needs to see vice acted, in order to hate it? or will its being acted for our amusement be likely to increase our hatred of it upon right principles?

As to COMEDY, this is a thousand times more polluting than tragedy. Love and intrigue; prodigality dressed in the garb of generosity; profaneness dignified by the name of fashionable spirit; and even seduction and adultery; these are the usual materials which the comic actor combines and adorns, to please and instruct his votaries. This department of the drama is almost unmixed pollution. How often is some profligate, dissolute person, introduced to the spectators, furnished with a few traits of frankness and generosity, to interest them by his wicked career; and who so far reconciles them all to his crimes, as to tolerate his atrocities—for the sake of his open hearted, good-humored virtues. Who can wonder that young women should be prepared by such stuff, for any intrigue with a bold and wily adventurer; or that young men should be encouraged to play the good-natured heroic profligate, which they have seen such a favorite with the public on the theater?

Besides, how saturated, as I have already observed, are both tragedies and comedies with irreverent appeals to heaven, profane swearing, and all the arts of falsehood and deception! What lascivious allusions are made, what impure passages are repeated! What a fatal influence must this have upon the delicacy of female modesty. Think too of a young man coming at the hour of midnight from such a scene, with his passions inflamed by everything he has seen, and everything he has heard; and then having to pass through ranks of wretched creatures waiting to ensnare him, and rob him of his virtue; does it not require extraordinary strength of principle to resist the attack?

I admit that modern plays are, in some measure, purified from that excessive grossness which polluted the performances of our more ancient dramatists. But who knows not that vice is more mischievous in some circles of society, in proportion as it is more 'refined'. The innuendos and double entendres of modern plays, "are well understood, and applied by a licentious audience; and the buzz of approbation, which is heard through the whole assembly, furnishes abundant proof that the effect is not lost." Little will be popular with the public in the shape of comedy, farce or opera—but what is pretty highly seasoned with indelicate sensual allusions. Hence it is that even the newspaper critics, whose morality is, in general, not of the most saintly character, so often mention the too-barefaced indecencies of new plays. Dramatic writers know very well how to cater for the public taste.

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How many sentiments are continually uttered on the theater, how many indelicate sensual allusions are made which no man who had any regard to the virtue of his sons, or the feelings of his daughters, would allow to be uttered at his table. Are not whole passages repeatedly recited, which no modest man would allow to be read before the family? Nothing but the approval of the public, could induce many females to sit and listen to that which they hear at the theater. Were any man to quote in company some of the expressions which are in constant iteration at the play-house, would he not be regarded as a person most dangerous to the virtue of others? And yet these nauseating exhibitions are heard with pleasure, when they are heard with the multitude.

Can this be friendly to modesty, to virtue, to piety? Must there not be an insensible corrosion going on under such an influence upon the fine polish of female excellence, and upon the moral principle of the other sex? Is this avoiding the appearance of evil? Is it in accordance with that morality which makes an unchaste feeling to be sin—and that injunction which commands us to watch the heart with all diligence?

Then remember all the accompaniments of the theater—the fascinations of music, painting, action, oratory—and say if when these are enlisted in the cause of fiction, they do not raise the passions above their proper tone—and thus induce a dislike to grave and serious subjects, and a distaste for all the milder and more necessary virtues of domestic life.

Add to this the people who are generally attracted to the theater. I do not say that all who frequent the theater are immoral—but I do affirm, that the most polluting and polluted people of the town are sure to be there. Is it not a fact that a person who could not wish to have his eyes and ears shocked with sights and sounds of indecency, must keep at a distance from the avenues of the theater? for these are ever crowded with the vilest characters of both sexes. Sir John Hawkins has a remark which strikingly illustrates and confirms what I have now advanced. "Although it is said of plays, that they teach morality, and of the theater, that it is the mirror of human life, these assertions have no foundation in truth—but are mere rhetoric. On the contrary, a play house, and the region about it, are the hot-beds of vice. How else comes it to pass, that no sooner is a theater opened in any part of the country, than it becomes surrounded by houses of ill-fame? Of this truth, the neighborhood of the place I am now speaking of has had experience. One parish has expended a great sum, for the purpose of removing these vile inhabitants, whom the play-house had drawn there."

The arguments against the theater are strengthened by a reference to the general habits of the performers, and the influence which their employment has in the formation of their character. And here I may assert, that the sentiments of mankind have generally consigned this wretched class of beings to infamy. The story of the unfortunate Laberius exhibits, in a strong point of view, the odium which was attached to the profession of an actor among the Romans. Compelled by Caesar, at an advanced period of life, to appear on the theater to recite some of his own works, he felt his character as a Roman citizen insulted and disgraced; and in some affecting verses, spoken on the occasion, he incensed the audience against the tyrant, by whose mandate he was obliged to appear before them. "After having lived," said he, "sixty years with honor, I left my house this morning a Roman knight, but shall return to it this evening an infamous theater player. Alas! I have lived a day too long!"

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As to the feelings of modern times, is there a family in Britain, of the least moral worth, even among the middling classes of tradesmen, which would not feel itself disgraced, if any one of its members were to embrace this profession? I ask, if the characters of the actors is not in general so vile, as to make it matter of surprise to find one that is truly moral? A performer, whether male or female, who maintains an unspotted reputation, is considered as an exception to the general rule. Their employment, together with the indolent line of life to which it leads, is most contaminating to their morals. The habit of assuming a 'pretend character', and exhibiting 'unreal passions', must have a very injurious effect on their principles of integrity and truth. They are so accustomed to represent the arts of intrigue and gallantry, that it is little to be wondered at, if they should practice them in the most unrestrained manner.

Of the truth of this description of the moral character of actors and actresses, most convincing evidence is afforded by the disgusting disclosures which have been made in a court of law, in reference to two of the most celebrated performers of the day. In speaking of one of them, the Times paper observes, "The conduct of people who appear on the theater has ever been the most wicked; and it may be doubted whether such a mass of living vice as the actors and actresses but too generally present in their private lives, is not more injurious to public morals, than the splendid examples of virtue which they exhibit in their theatrical characters, are useful. It appears, however, that Kean, the defendant in the cause which was tried yesterday, is advanced many steps in profligacy beyond the most profligate of his sisters and brethren of the theater. Some of Kean's letters are of so filthy a description that we cannot insert them. Yet have the managers of Drury Lane Theater the effrontery to present, or to attempt presenting, such a creature to the gaze of a British audience. It is of little consequence to the nation whether the character of King Richard or Othello be well or ill acted—but it is of importance that public feeling be not shocked, and public decency be outraged."—Times Newspaper, Tuesday, Jan. 18th, 1825.

Doubtless our morals and taste as a nation will be wonderfully improved by such lectures and examples as these. These are the characters which young men and young women are sent to the play-houses to admire; which husbands and wives, and sons and daughters are to witness, as teaching not only by theory but by practice—the vices that corrupt the mind and pollute society. An admirable school for morals truly! When will the virtuous part of the community, with unanimous and indignant voice, condemn the play-house as a moral nuisance, which no wise and good man ought to tolerate? When!

I was visited some years ago by an individual who had been for a long time engaged as an actor—but who was then most anxious to be liberated from, what he had at length been brought to confess and to loathe—as a most immoral profession. In considerable distress, he implored me to assist him in endeavoring to flee from a situation, of which he felt it difficult to say whether the vice or the misery was the greater. Never did a captive more detest his fetters, or more covet to be free, than this poor creature did to be liberated from the thraldom in which he groaned.

To send young people therefore to the play-house to form their manners, is to expect they will learn truth from liars, virtue from profligates, and modesty from harlots.

Can it then be right, even on the supposition that we could escape the moral contagion of the theater, to support a set of our fellow-creatures in idleness, and in a profession which leads to immorality, licentiousness, and profligacy?

But, my dear children, I have not only arguments to bring in proof of the immoral tendency of the theater—but I have facts. It is useless to contend against these. I am distressed while I write, to think of the once promising young men, who, to my certain knowledge, have been utterly ruined by resorting to this scene of polluting amusement. I am not allowed to disclose the details, or I could unfold a tale that would shock every right feeling in your hearts.

Take warning then, and have nothing to do with the theater. Avoid it as one of the avenues to the broad road that leads to destruction. Do not run with the multitude to do evil. Do not be thrown off your guard, and enticed to sin, by being directed to some who have never been injured by such amusements. Would it be any inducement to you to venture near a plague-infested house, to be pointed to some person who had breathed an atmosphere tainted with the plague, without receiving the infection? I admit that the danger is not the same in all cases. Individuals, whose connections, habits, characters, are formed, may not receive so much injury as younger people—though the most virtuous and moral cannot, I am sure, escape all harm; even they must have their mental purity injured, and their imagination corrupted; they must acquire a greater and greater distaste for true religion, and irreverence towards God. But to young people, and to young men especially, the danger is greater than I describe—to them the doors of the theater are as the jaws of the devouring lion!

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ON THE PERIOD WHICH ELAPSES BETWEEN THE TIME OF LEAVING SCHOOL AND THE AGE OF MANHOOD

Young people, while at school, generally look forward with much desire, and longing anticipation, to the happy time when they shall terminate their scholastic pursuits, throw off the restraints of the academy, and enter upon the engagements which are to prepare them for their future station in life. They are seldom aware of the immense importance of this period of their existence; and but rarely consider, that it is at this time the character usually assumes its permanent form.

I will suppose, my dear children, that you have now left the schoolroom, for the warehouse, the office, or the shop; exchanged grammars and dictionaries for journals and ledgers; and the researches of learning for the pursuits of business. All is new and all is interesting. Youthful feelings are subsiding into something like a consciousness of approaching manhood; and the comparative insignificance of the schoolboy is giving way to the incipient importance of the man of business. At this very point and period of your history, it behooves you to stop and reflect. Instead of being led on in joyous thoughtlessness, by the new scenes that are opening before and around you, and leaving your habits and your character to be formed by accident or by chance, I beseech you to ponder on the very critical circumstances in which you are now placed.

The period which elapses from fourteen to eighteen years of age, is indeed the crisis of your history and character. It is inconceivably the most eventful and influential term of your whole mortal existence. Comparing the mind to substances which, under the influence of heat, are capable of being molded to any form—it is at this period of its history that it is in the most suitable temperature and consistency to yield to the plastic influence of external causes, and to receive its permanent form and character—before this, it is too fluid and yielding, and afterwards too stiff and unbending. This, this is the very time, when the ever variable emotions, passions, and pursuits of boyhood, begin to exhibit something like the durable and settled forms of manhood.

In reference to the affairs of this life; if a young person ever become a good mechanic, or a good tradesman, he gains the elements of his future excellence about this period. So it is in poetry, painting, learning. Before this, the first decisive and unequivocal traits of genius sometimes appear, and even after this they are sometimes developed—but generally speaking, it is from the age of fourteen to eighteen, that the marks of future eminence are put forth. It is the 'spring season' of mind, and habits, and genius.

The same remarks will apply to the formation of character. Then the passions acquire new vigor, and exert a mighty influence; then the understanding begins to assert its independence, and to think for itself; then there is a declaration of its liberty on the part of the mind, and a casting away of the restraints of education; then there is a self-confidence and a self-reliance, which have received as yet few checks from experience; then the social impulse is felt, and the youth looks round for companions and friends; then the eye of parental vigilance and the voice of parental caution are generally at a distance. Then, in fact, the future character is formed. At this time, generally speaking, true religion is chosen or abandoned; and the heart is given to God or the world. Can anything be more awfully important, than such reflections to those who are yet about this age? You are now deciding for both worlds at once. You are now choosing to become a Christian on earth, and a seraph in heaven—or a worldling here, and a fiend hereafter! You are now setting out on a journey, which is to conduct you to glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life—or to the blackness of darkness forever! Yes, the starting point for the realms of eternal day—or the regions of eternal night—has generally been found to be within the period which I have named.

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These remarks apply more strictly to young men than to young women; inasmuch, as females generally remain at home, under the eye, and voice, and example of parental piety, and are far less exposed than boys to the temptations and sins of youth. All young men, therefore, of this age, should pause and reflect thus—"I am now arrived at that period which must be considered as the most eventful era of my whole existence; when my character, both for time and eternity, will, in all probability, be formed; when I may be said to be commencing the career which is to terminate in heaven or hell; as well as that path which is to lead me to respectability and comfort—or to depression and poverty—in the present world. How critical my age! How important that I should consider wisely my situation, and decide aright!"

Permit me to give you a little ADVICE, in some measure suited to your circumstances.

1. Most sacredly observe the Sabbath, and constantly attend the means of grace.

Let nothing induce you to prostitute the hallowed day to worldly pleasure. Never listen to the enticements of a companion, who would tempt you, even once, to forsake the house of God. Abandon such an acquaintance. He is unfit for you, and will ruin you. Sabbath-breaking is a sin of most hardening tendency. When tempted to commit it, imagine you hear the dreadful voice of divine prohibition, followed with the loud deep groan of a holy father, and the exclamation of a pious mother, "Oh, my son! my son! do not pierce my heart with anguish." Attach yourselves to a sound, evangelical ministry, and listen not to those who subvert the very foundations of the gospel. Avoid those preachers who oppose all that is peculiar to Christianity.

2. Keep up attention to the private duties of true religion.

Never let a day pass without reading the scriptures and private prayer. While these practices are continued, I have hope for you—they show that piety has still some hold upon your heart. Secure some portion of every day, if it be but a quarter of an hour in the morning, and in the evening, for this most important duty. Should you not have a chamber to yourselves, let not the company of others prevent you from keeping up this practice. It would be better, however, in this case, to retire to your room, so you can be alone.

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3. Be very careful in the selection of companions.

All that I have before said on the subject of company, applies with great force to this period of your life. It is now that the mischief of evil associations will be felt in all its devastating influence. One bad companion at this time, when the character is assuming its permanent form, will give a most fatal direction. Your company will probably be courted—but resist every overture which is not made by individuals of well-known, unbending virtue.

4. Strive to excel in the business or profession to which your life is to be devoted.

It is quite a laudable ambition for a man to aspire to eminence in his secular vocation. Be not satisfied with mediocrity in anything that is lawful. Even as a tradesman, you should endeavor to be distinguished. It will give you weight in society, and thus, by increasing your influence, augment the means of your usefulness. A dolt, however pious he may be, possesses but little weight of character. Give your mind, therefore, to business. Penetrate into all its secrets, comprehend all its principles, study all its bearings. Care nothing about pleasure—but find your recreation in your employment. It is astonishing how few rise to eminence in their calling, either in trade or in the professions. The summits are gained by a very small number; the multitude grovel below. Why? Because they did not seek nor begin to ascend, during their apprenticeship. They did not give themselves wholly to these things during this important season. Excellence in any department of human affairs can be looked for only from diligent and early culture. Industry and close application will keep you out of the way of temptation. Let your mind be occupied with business, and there will be neither leisure nor inclination for polluting amusements.

5. If your attention to business leaves any free time, I advise you to carry on a course of reading.

Make companions of useful books, and you will need no other. And as it is every man's chief praise to excel in his own profession, let your reading bear a relation to that in which you are engaged. (The author hopes he shall be pardoned for the frequency with which he urges a taste for reading. He knows the importance of the subject.)

6. If you can find a pious and intelligent associate, embrace the opportunity of innocent and pleasurable companionship. "As iron sharpens iron, a friend sharpens a friend." With such a friend carry on some course of intellectual improvement, and both give and receive the stimulus which fellowship affords.

Again and again, remember the tremendous importance which attaches to the period to which this chapter more particularly refers; and believing, as you must, that it is from fourteen to eighteen, the character, in relation to both worlds, is generally formed, judge what manner of people you ought to be at that time, if you wish to be a good tradesman, and real Christian upon earth, or a glorified and happy spirit in heaven.

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PUBLIC SPIRIT

You are born, my dear children, in no common age of the world. You have entered upon the theater of existence, when some of the most interesting scenes of the great drama are being presented. There are eras, when the moral world seems to stand still, or to retrograde; and there are others, when it is propelled with accelerated movements towards the goal. Ours is of the latter kind. After the dark and stormy epoch, which was terminated by the glorious revolution of 1688, the churches of Christ, blessed with religious liberty, sunk to inglorious repose. Little was done, either to improve the moral condition of our own population at home, or the state of heathen countries abroad. Whitfield and Wesley broke in upon this slumber, when it seemed to be most profound. From that time, the spirit of religious zeal awoke, and increasing its energies, and multiplying its resources until our days, it now exhibits a glorious array of means and instruments, from which in the long run, may be expected the conversion of the world.

Christendom presents at this moment a sublime and interesting spectacle in its Bible Societies, Missionary Societies, Tract Societies, with all the other institutions adapted to the moral needs of every class and condition of mankind. War is not only declared—but prosecuted with vigor, against the powers of darkness; the armies of the Lord are marching forth to the field of conflict; the sound of the trumpet is heard, and the call of warriors floats on the gale. Spiritual patriotism is breathed into the souls of all denominations of Christians. Instruments of the holy warfare are invented and distributed, which suit the hands of people of every rank, condition, stature, and strength; while females are invited to emulate the Spartan women of antiquity, and to assist in this conflict by the side of their fathers, husbands, and brothers.

All young people ought to enlist themselves in this cause. They should rise up into life, determined to do all the good they can, and to leave the world better than they found it. To see them reluctant to come forward, is an indelible disgrace to them. It is a poor, miserable kind of life to live only for ourselves; it is, in fact—but half living. It is an opposition both to reason and Scripture. He who does nothing to bless others, starves his own soul. You must therefore set out in life, my children, with a resolution, by God's help, to act the part of a religious philanthropist. "He who converts a sinner from the error of his ways, shall save a soul from death, and hide a multitude of sins." Aspire to this honor. Think how many things you can already do. You can instruct a class of ignorant children in a Sunday School. You can distribute religious tracts. You can join in the labors of Bible associations, or in the exertions of missionary societies to youth.

It is to the great dishonor of many young people in affluent circumstances, that they are retiring from our Sunday schools, and leaving the work to those who are in humbler life. Well, we must do without them—but let them remember that for their indolence, or pride, or whatever else be the cause of their secession, they must give an account at the bar of Christ.

Here, however, I must suggest a caution or two. Females who are employed in the labor of collecting gratuitous contributions to public societies of any kind, should be very watchful against the least infringement on that delicacy and modesty of character which is the chief ornament of their sex. Their exertions, I know, are the life's blood of some causes; be it so—but let their benevolence flow like the vital fluid through the veins—unseen, unheard. I believe that in general the strictest rules of modesty have been observed by the female collectors of our Missionary Societies—but I have heard of instances very much to the contrary. Happily, such cases are rare. I think it quite questionable whether very young females, whose characters are scarcely formed, should be thus employed.

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[airIam2worship]

It would be a source of mischief and regret, if the present mode of employing females in collecting for public institutions should abate one jot of that retiredness of disposition, and love of home, which are so essential to the beauty and excellence of their character. A gossiping, unsettled, roving temper, that can be better pleased with wandering round the town from door to door, than performing the duties which fall to the lot of a grown-up daughter at home, is no present ornament, and affords but a forlorn hope of future worth. I confess I look with some degree of jealousy upon the efforts of female zeal, for if public spirit is to be maintained at the expense of private usefulness, the world will be no great gainer in the end. Exertions for the public should be regarded not as a substitute for—but a recreation from, the more stated duties of home.

It is more necessary still, perhaps, to caution young men against acquiring, by their activity—a bold, forward, obtrusive, and dictatorial temper. If zeal should render them conceited, vain, and meddling, it would be a heavy deduction from its clear amount of usefulness. There is some little danger lest Satan, perceiving it to be impossible to repress the ardor of youth, should attempt to corrupt it.

Observing these cautions, you cannot be too ardent in the cause of true religion, and the interests of the human race. Those who are likely to occupy the middling classes of society, who are the sons and daughters of people in comparatively affluent circumstances, and are likely, by the blessing of God, to occupy the same rank themselves, should feel most specially bound to consecrate their energies to the public welfare, inasmuch as they possess far more means of usefulness than others, and are likely to have greater influence in society.

But even the poorest can do something. There is no one who is destitute of all the means of doing good. In France, during the reign of the late emperor, the conscription law extended to people of all ranks in society; and in the same regiment, the sons of the rich and of the poor contended, side by side, for the glory of their country—nor did the former think themselves degraded by such an association; they felt that to fight under the imperial and victorious eagle, was an honor sufficient to annihilate every other consideration. How much more justly will this apply to people who are marshaled under the banner of the cross!

It is of the utmost importance that young people should begin life with a considerable portion of public spirit in their character; since it is rarely found that this virtue, if planted late, attains to any considerable magnitude, beauty, or fruitfulness. The seeds of benevolence should be sown, together with those of piety, in the first spring of our youth; then may we expect a rich autumnal crop. The first lesson which a child should learn from his parents is, how to be blessed; and the second, how to be a blessing.

You have been taught this, my children, from the very dawn of reason—now then practice it. Live for some purpose in the world. Act your part well. Fill up the measure of your duty to others. Conduct yourselves so that you shall be missed with sorrow when you are gone. Multitudes of our species are living in such a selfish manner, that they are not likely to be remembered a moment after their disappearance. They leave behind them scarcely any traces of their existence—but are forgotten almost as though they had never been. They are, while they live, like one pebble lying unobserved among millions on the shore; and when they die, they are like that same pebble thrown into the sea, which just ruffles the surface, sinks, and is forgotten, without being missed from the beach. They are neither regretted by the rich, wanted by the poor, nor celebrated by the learned. Who have been the better for their life? Who are the worse for their death? Whose tears have they dried up, whose needs supplied, whose miseries have they healed? Who would unbar the gate of life, to re-admit them to existence; or what face would greet them back again to our world with a smile? Wretched, unproductive mode of existence! Selfishness is its own curse—it is a starving vice. The man that does no good, gets none. He is like the heath in the desert, neither yielding fruit, nor seeing when good comes; a stunted, dwarfish, miserable shrub.

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We are sent into the world to do good; and to be destitute of public spirit, is to forget one half of our errand upon earth. Think what opportunity there is for the increase and operations of this noble disposition. We are in a world which abounds with evil. There are six hundred million immortal souls, yet enslaved in their minds by the chains of Pagan superstition or Mohammedan delusion—without God, and without hope in the world; there are one hundred and twenty million following the Papal Beast, and bearing his image; there are nine million Jews—wandering as vagabonds over the face of the whole earth, with the thick veil of unbelief upon their hearts. In our own country, many towns and villages are yet unblessed with the faithful preaching of the gospel; multitudes of adults are still without Bibles to read, and myriads of uneducated children; and ignorance of the grossest kind, vice of the most abominable forms, are to be found in every street.

And then, as to express misery, what aboundings are to be seen in every collection of human abodes; where can we go and not hear the groans of creation ascending round us, and not see the tears of sorrow flowing in our path? Poverty meets us with its heart-breaking tale of want and woe; disease in a thousand shapes appeals to our compassion; widows, orphans, destitute old men, and fatherless babes, with numbers ready to perish—are almost everywhere to be seen. Shall we live in the center of so much sin, ignorance, and wretchedness, and not feel it our duty to do good? What a wretch must he be, who, in such a world, is destitute of public spirit! For all that selfishness ever hoarded, may you, my children, never be cursed with an unfeeling heart. Here is something for all to do, and all should do what they can.

Consider the FELICITY of doing good. Public spirit is a perennial source of happiness in a man's own bosom. The miser is rightly named; the word signifies 'miserable'—and miserable he is. Benevolence is happiness. Its very tears are more to be desired than the most exulting smiles which avarice ever bestowed upon its accumulating treasures. Who does not covet that exquisite delight which Job must have experienced in the days of his prosperity, and of which he thus speaks—"All who heard of me praised me. All who saw me spoke well of me. For I helped the poor in their need and the orphans who had no one to help them. I helped those who had lost hope, and they blessed me. And I caused the widows' hearts to sing for joy. All I did was just and honest. Righteousness covered me like a robe, and I wore justice like a turban. I served as eyes for the blind and feet for the lame. I was a father to the poor and made sure that even strangers received a fair trial." Job 29:11-16. O tell me, what are all the pleasures of sense or appetite, all the mirthful festivities of worldly amusements, when compared with this? To do good, is to be like God in operation and bliss; for he is the blessed God, because he is the merciful God.

Public spirit is most HONORABLE. Even the heathen accounted a benefactor a most honorable character. Never does humanity appear adorned with so bright a crown of glory, as when distinguished benevolence, united with humble piety, enters into the character. When a young lady, instead of frittering away her time in frivolous pursuits, parties of pleasure, personal decorations, or scenes of vanity, employs her hours in visiting the cottages of the poor, alleviating the sorrows of the wretched, reading Scripture to the sick, how like an angel does she appear; and one can almost imagine that she is watched with exalted delight, on her visits of mercy, by the heavenly messengers who minister to the heirs of salvation, and who hail her as a co-worker in their embassies of love.

What is the most celebrated beauty that ever became the center of attraction, the object of voluptuous gaze, the subject of general envy to one sex, and of admiration to the other; when, amid the blaze of diamonds, and the perfumery of the East, she displayed her charms in the ball-room—compared with that modest and unostentatious young woman, who, in her woolen cloak and miry shoes, is seen on a cold wintry day at the sick bed of the poor expiring mother, first reviving the sinking frame of the sufferer with the cordials she has prepared with her own hands, then dispensing bread to the clamorous hungry babes, then comforting the agitated mind of the departing wife with the consolations of true religion, and, last of all, soothing the troubled bosom of the distressed husband with the prospect of a country, where there shall be no more death!

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Or what is the man of polished manners, affable address, sparkling wit, and endless anecdote, whose society is courted, and who is the life of every company into which he enters; who everywhere receives the incense of praise, and the worship of admiration; I say, what is this man, in real grandeur, utility, and moral beauty of character—compared with the unassuming youth, who though well educated and extensively read, and with a mind that could luxuriate in all the pleasures of literary pursuits, devotes a large portion of his time to the exercises of benevolence—who on a sabbath journeys to some neighboring village on foot, sustaining the storms of winter, and the sultry heats of summer, to teach a school of ignorant children, bound to him by no tie but that of our common nature, to read the word of God—who is often seen in the retired streets and alleys of his own town, checking the torrents of wickedness by the distribution of tracts, or the circulation of the Bible—who, when fatigued with business, would gladly seek the repose of home, or else, thirsting for knowledge, would gladly converse with books—yet instead of this, devotes his evening hours to assist in managing the business of Christian institutions!

Need I ask which of these two is the most honorable character? They admit of no comparison. The wreath of literary fame, the laurel of the warrior, the tribute of praise offered to superior wit—are empty and worthless compared with the pure bright crown of the Christian philanthropist. There is a time coming when the former shall be of no value in the eyes of their professors, or the world—but the distinctions of superior beneficence belong to an order which shall be acknowledged in heaven, and shall be worn with unfading brilliancy through eternity!

I exhort, therefore, my children, that you do all the good you can, both to the souls and bodies of your fellow-creatures—for this end, as I have already said, you were born into the world, and society has claims upon your attention, which you cannot neglect without disregarding the authority of God. Give your property for this purpose. Begin life with a conviction that every one ought to devote a fair portion of his worldly substance for the benefit of others. No man ought to set apart a less proportion of his income for the good of the public than a tenth. Whatever estate yours may be, whether great or small, consider that it comes to you with a reserved claim of one-tenth for the public. Consider yourself as having a right to only nine-tenths. Pay tithes of all you possess to the cause of God and man. Be frugal in your personal expenditure—that you may have the more to do good with. Waste not that upon unnecessary luxuries of dress or living—which thousands and millions need for necessities and religious instruction. The noblest transformation of property is not into personal jewels, or splendid household furniture, or costly equipages—but into clothing for the naked, food for the hungry, medicine for the sick, knowledge for the ignorant, holiness for the wicked, salvation for the lost!

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Give your INFLUENCE, whatever it be, to the cause of the public. We all have a circle of influence, and it is more extensive than we imagine. We are all, and always, doing good or harm. Two people never meet, however short the duration, or whatever be the cause of the meeting, without exerting some influence upon each other. An important transaction, a casual hint, a studied address, each and all may become the means of controlling the mind of those with whom we have to do. Let your influence be all thrown into the scale of the public good. Do your own duty, and endeavor to rouse others to do theirs.

Let your exertions in the public cause be the result of deliberate purpose, not of mere accident. Set yourselves to do good. Pursue a system, and act not from caprice. Let not your zeal be a blaze at one time, and a mere spark at another. Study your situation, circumstances, talents—and let your benevolence flow through that channel which Providence has more especially opened before you. All are not fitted for, nor are they called to, the same work. In the division of the labor of mercy, occupy that station, and be content with that work, to which you are obviously destined. Avoid the disposition which will be first in the front rank, or nowhere. This is selfishness, not benevolence. Be anxious to do good, though, like the ministering angels, your agency should never be seen—but only felt. Do not be discouraged by difficulty, nor disheartened by ingratitude; seek your reward in the approbation of conscience, and the smile of God—not in the acknowledgments of men. Persevere to the end of life; and be not weary in well doing. Be diligent, for the world is dying around you, and you are dying with it. You are young—but you are mortal. Your time of working may be short, and therefore strive to do much in a little time; for a man's life is to be measured not so much by the years that he lives, as by the work he does. You may die—but if you do good, your work lives; lives and multiplies its kind on earth, and then follows you to heaven, to live in your own remembrance, and the happiness of others through everlasting ages.

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FEMALE ACCOMPLISHMENTS, VIRTUES, AND PURSUITS

As the perusal of this volume is intended for those who may be supposed to have finished, or are near the completion of scholastic pursuits, all that can be designed in this chapter, is to follow up the object of a good education, which, most probably, it has been the felicity of many of my female readers to receive; or, in the opposite case, to correct the faults, and point out in what way to supply the defects of a bad one.

"A young lady may excel in speaking French and Italian, may repeat a few passages from a volume of extracts; play like a professor, and sing like a siren; have her dressing-room decorated with her own drawings, tables, stands, screens, and cabinets—more, she may dance like Sempronia herself—and yet may have been very badly educated. I am far from meaning to set no value whatever on any or all of these qualifications; they are all of them elegant, and many of them properly tend to the perfecting of a genteel education. These things in their measure and degree may be done—but there are others which should not be left undone. Many things are becoming—but 'one thing is needful.' Besides, as the world seems to be fully apprized of the value of whatever tends to embellish life, there is less occasion here to insist on its importance.

"But, though a well-bred young lady may lawfully learn most of the fashionable arts, yet it does not seem to be the end of education to make women of fashion, dancers, singers, players, painters, actresses, sculptors, gilders, varnishers, engravers, and embroiderers. Most men are commonly destined to some profession, and their minds are consequently turned each to its respective object. Would it not be strange if they were called out to exercise their profession, or to set up their trade, with only a little general knowledge of the trades of other men, and without any previous definite application to their own peculiar calling?

"The profession of young ladies, to which the bent of their instruction should be turned, is that of daughters, wives, mothers, and managers of families. They should be therefore trained with a view to these several conditions, and be furnished with a stock of ideas and principles, and qualifications and habits, ready to be applied and appropriated, as occasion may demand, to each of these respective situations; for though the arts which merely embellish life, must claim admiration, yet when a man of sense comes to marry, it is a companion whom he wants—and not an artist. It is not merely a creature who can paint, and play, and dress, and dance—it is a being who can comfort and console him; one who can reason and reflect, and feel, and judge, and act and discourse, and discriminate—one who can assist him in his affairs, lighten his cares, soothe his sorrows, purify his joys, strengthen his principles, and educate his children." (Mrs. Hannah More)

This is sound reasoning and unquestionable discretion; it proceeds on the obvious and indisputable principle, that the excellence of means is to be judged of by their adaptation to the end to be produced; and the value of an instrument to be appreciated by its fitness for the work contemplated. That is a perfect female education, which best prepares women for the station in society which Providence has destined them to occupy. And what is that station? To be wives, mothers, and managers of families. Do not think that this is degrading woman below her just rank, or that such a station requires nothing more than an initiation into the mysteries of the kitchen, or a memory well stored with the responses of the "Cook's Oracle."

If to be the suitable companion of a sensible man; the judicious mother of a rising family; the neat and orderly and frugal manager of an extensive household; if to be qualified to counsel her husband in the intricacies of life, to soothe him in his troubles, to lighten his heart of half its load of care, to enliven his solitude with the charm of her conversation, and render his home "the soft green," on which his weary spirit shall love to repose; if to be qualified to train up her children in the paths of true religion, to form them to habits of virtue, to preside over their education, and the formation of their character, so as to multiply in them her own image of female excellence, and raise in each of them her second lovely self; if to be qualified to render her house attractive, both to its stated inhabitants, and the friends who may occasionally resort to it; I say, if this be a low station, and fitness for it be nothing more than base qualifications, where, in all this world, shall we find any one that is high, or noble, or useful?

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For these sacred occupations has Providence destined the female sex, and say, what kind of education fits for such a scene of endearing and important duties? For such a circle of obligations, she should indeed be accomplished—"no term however has been more abused than this. 'Accomplishment' is a word that signifies completeness, perfection. But I may safely appeal to the observation of mankind, whether they do not meet with swarms of youthful females, issuing from our boarding schools, as well as emerging from the more private scenes of domestic education, who are introduced into the world, under the broad and universal title of accomplished ladies, of whom it cannot very truly be pronounced that they illustrate the definition, by a completeness which leaves nothing to be added, and a perfection which leaves nothing to be desired.

"This frenzy of accomplishments, unhappily, is no longer restricted within the usual limits of rank and of fortune; the middle orders have caught the contagion, and it rages downward with increasing violence, from the elegantly dressed but slenderly portioned curate's daughter, to the equally fashionable daughter of the little tradesman, and of the more opulent—but not more judicious farmer. And is it not obvious, that as far as this epidemic mania has spread, this very valuable part of society is declining in usefulness, as it rises in its unlucky pretensions to elegance? And this revolution of the manners of the middle class has so far altered the character of the age, as to be in danger of rendering obsolete the heretofore common saying, 'that most worth and virtue are to be found in the middle station.' For I do not scruple to assert, that in general, as far as my observation has extended, this class of females, in what relates both to religious knowledge, and to practical industry, falls short both of the very high and the very low. Their new course of education, and the habits of life, and elegance of dress, connected with it, peculiarly unfits them for the active duties of their own very important condition; while with frivolous eagerness and second-hand opportunities, they run to snatch a few of those showy acquirements which decorate the great. This is done apparently with one or other of these views; either to make their fortune by marriage, or if that fails to qualify them, to become teachers of others—hence the abundant multiplication of superficial wives, and of incompetent and illiterate governesses." (Mrs. Hannah More)

By accomplishments, I believe, are usually intended, dancing, music, drawing, the languages, etc. etc.

As for DANCING, if it be allowable at all in a system of Christian education, it cannot be permitted to rise to a higher rank than that of a mere physical training, which should be strictly confined to the school, and laid aside forever when the school is left for home. Balls and dances of every kind, public and private, are in my judgment, reprehensible and injurious; and if our Lord's exposition of the seventh commandment be correct, I am perfectly sure that the dance room is no place for Christian morals—the half-naked costume there exhibited has the same effect as Montesquieu ascribed to the dances of the Spartan virgins, which taught them "to strip chastity itself of modesty." Piety looks round in vain, in a ball-room, for one single object congenial with its nature.

MUSIC has not the same objection. The acquisition of this pleasing science requires a vigorous exercise of that faculty of the mind which is the foundation of all knowledge—I mean attentiveness; and therefore, like the mathematics, is valuable, not merely for its own sake—but as a part of mental education. Besides this the ear is tuned by its Maker to harmony, and the concord of sweet sounds is a pleasant and innocent recreation. Music becomes sinful, only when too much time is occupied in acquiring the science, or when it is applied to demoralizing compositions. I am decidedly of opinion, that in general, far more time is occupied in this accomplishment than ought to be thus employed. Many pupils practice three, four, five hours a day. Now suppose four hours a day be thus spent, commencing from six years of age, and continuing until eighteen, then leaving out the Sundays, and allowing thirteen days annually for traveling, there will be 14,400 hours spent at the piano—which, allowing ten hours a day for the time usually devoted to study, will make nearly four years out of twelve given to music.

Can this be justified, my female friends, on any principle of reason or Scripture? What ideas might have been acquired, what a stock of knowledge amassed, what habits of mental application formed in this time! And what renders this the more culpable is, that all this time is spent in acquiring a science which, as soon as its possessor is placed at the head of a family—is generally neglected and forgotten! If it be really true, therefore, that music cannot be acquired without practicing four hours a day, I do not hesitate to say that the sacrifice is far too costly; and females should forego the accomplishment, rather than purchase it at such a rate. If the great design and chief excellence of the female character, were to make a figure for a few years in the drawing-room, to enliven the mirthful scene of fashionable resort, and, by the freshness of her charms, and the fascination of her accomplishments, to charm all hearts, and conquer one—then let females give all their precious hours until they can play like Orpheus, or sing like a siren—but if it be what I have already stated, then indeed it will sound like a meager qualification for a wife, or a mother, to say—She is an exquisite performer on the harp or piano."

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DRAWING, with all the fancy operations of the brush, the pencil, the needle, and the scissors, are innocent and agreeable, provided they are kept in the place of recreations—and are not allowed to rise into occupations. Of late years they have acquired a kind of hallowed connection, and FANCY has been seen carrying her painted and embroidered productions to lay on the altar of MERCY and of ZEAL. These things are sinful only when they consume too much time, and draw the mind from the love and pursuit of more important, or more necessary duties. They are little 'elegant trifles', which will do well enough to fill up the fragments of time—but must not displace the more momentous objects which require and occupy its larger portions.

The LANGUAGES are accomplishments, for which there is a great demand in the system of modern education. I confess plainly at once, that I rate the importance of French at a much lower value than many do. I believe not one in a hundred who pretend to learn it, ever derive the least advantage from it. The object of acquiring a foreign language is to converse with those who speak it, or to be as a key to all the literature which it contains. To be able to hammer out a few sentences, ill pronounced, and worse constructed; to tell what a table, or a house, or door is, or pass the usual compliments in French—is a miserable reward for years of learning the French language. If, then, you have begun French, or Italian, and still retain anything of what you have learned, give a moderate portion of your time to recover what else will soon be utterly lost; for nothing is so soon lost from the mind as a little of a foreign language. Pursue the study until you can, at least, read it with nearly as much ease as your mother tongue. Perhaps the chief advantage from this accomplishment is, that it raises our reputation a little in elegant society, and so far increases our weight of character, and thus enlarges the sphere of our usefulness.

On the subject of accomplishments, then, my views are sufficiently explicit. The greater part of them I by no means condemn. Custom has rendered them necessary, true religion allows them to be innocent, and ingenuity can render them useful. Piety is not in a state of hostility with taste, and would not look more lovely in Gothic barbarity than in Grecian elegance. Provided she maintains all her sanctity, dignity, spirituality, and benevolence—she does not appear less inviting when attired by the MUSES, and attended by the GRACES. Females may play, and draw, and paint, and write Latin, and speak Italian and French, provided the time, the money, and the admiration lavished on these external acquirements, be all within reasonable limits; provided they are regarded as sources of private entertainment, not as arts of public display; are considered as recreations from more severe and necessary pursuits, not as the chief end of education; and are viewed as mere appendages of excellence, not its substitute.

It unfortunately happens, however, that the female who has in reality received the worst education, often makes the best figure in society. There are many schools which (to adopt a simile borrowed from the trades of my own town) instead of resembling the jeweler's workshop, where sterling gold and real diamonds are polished—are nothing more than gilders, varnishers, and platers, whose object is to give the brightest surface in the shortest time, and at the least expense. The paste and the gilt look very well, perhaps better than the gem and the gold, because more of it can be obtained for the same sum—but which will wear best, and last the longest? It requires much self-denial, sturdy attachment to solid excellence and nobleness of mind, for a female of few accomplishments—but many virtues, to go home from a company, where some gilded, varnished mind has received, for her music or singing, the tribute of admiration—and still to prefer the 'unostentatious excellence of character' to all the fascinations of exterior decoration.

But look onward in life. See the future career of both. The siren wins the heart, for which, as a prize, she has sung and played. She marries, and is placed at the head of a rising family. But, alas! the time she should have spent in preparing to be a companion to her husband, a mother to her children, a mistress to her servants, was employed at the piano, in qualifying her to charm the drawing-room circle. She succeeded, and had her reward—but it ended when she became a wife and a mother! She had neither good sense, nor information; neither frugality, order, nor system; neither ability to govern and guide her children. Her husband sees everything going wrong, and is dissatisfied; he caught the 'nightingale' to which he listened with such transport in her native bower—but she is now a miserable-looking, moping, silent bird in her cage! All is discontent and wretchedness, for both at length find out that she was better qualified to be a public singer than a wife, or a mother!

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Far different is the case with the unostentatious woman of real moral worth. She too wins a heart more worth winning than the 'prize' last spoken of. Some congenial mind, looking round for an individual who shall be a help-meet indeed, sees in her good sense and prudence, in her well-stored understanding, in her sobriety of manners, in her sterling piety—the virtues likely to last through life, with foliage ever verdant, fruit ever abundant. They are united in marriage—the hopes of lovers, rational, unromantic, founded on kindred minds, and kindred hearts—are realized in all the fond endearments of wedded life. Although the first bloom and freshness of youthful affection fades away, its mellowness still remains, and mutual esteem still continues and grows. Their family increases, over which she presides in the meekness of wisdom, the order of system, and the economy, not of baseness—but of prudence. To her children, whom her husband trusts with confidence to her care, she is the instructor of their minds, the guide of their youth. Their father sees them rising up to prove the wisdom of his choice, when he selected a wife rather for 'virtues' than 'accomplishments'—their mother delights in a husband who is one with her in all her views, and approves of all her doings. They pass through life together, blessing and being blessed—mutual comforters, and mutual counselors, often saying, if not singing,

"Domestic happiness, you only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the Fall!
You are not known where pleasure is adored–
That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist."

How true and how beautiful are the words of Solomon "Who can find a virtuous and capable wife? She is worth more than precious rubies. Her husband can trust her, and she will greatly enrich his life. She will not hinder him but help him all her life. She extends a helping hand to the poor and opens her arms to the needy. She has no fear of winter for her household because all of them have warm clothes. She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs with no fear of the future. When she speaks, her words are wise, and kindness is the rule when she gives instructions. She carefully watches all that goes on in her household and does not have to bear the consequences of laziness. Her children stand and bless her. Her husband praises her: 'There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you surpass them all!' Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised. Reward her for all she has done. Let her deeds publicly declare her praise." Proverbs 31:10-31.

My young female friends, have you no ambition to answer, in future life, these beautiful patterns of female excellence? Have you no desire, that if Providence should place you at the head of a family, you may shine forth in all the mild radiance of domestic, feminine excellence? Is there not, as you read, some spirit-stirring desires in your soul? Does not all the glitter of mere external accomplishments, fade away into darkness before such effulgent virtue? Does not all the 'painted insignificance of mere drawing-room charms' dwindle into nothing before that solid excellence which is a "perpetual fountain of domestic sweets."

If so, and you would thus bless and be blessed, make up your mind deliberately to this opinion, and abide by it—that what is useful is infinitely to be preferred to what is dazzling—and virtuous excellence to be more ardently coveted than fashionable accomplishments. A right objective is of unspeakable consequence. Whatever we propose as the grand paramount object, will form the character! We shall subordinate everything else to it! May this be this your aim—to excel rather in the solid and useful attainments, than in external showy decorations!

Seek a large portion of what is usually denominated GOOD SENSE. It is very difficult to define what I mean, and perhaps it is not necessary, for every one knows what I intend, by this quality. It is that sobriety of character, that quick perception of all the proprieties of life, that appropriate discernment of what is best to be done in all the ordinary circumstances of human society, which shall enable us to act with nobility to ourselves—and comfort to others. It is a thoughtful, cautious way of judging and acting—and is equally opposed to that rashness which acts with haste—and that ignorance which cannot act at all. It is, in fact, prudence, accommodating itself to all the relations of life, and the ever-varying circumstances of society.

To store your mind with USEFUL INFORMATION. Read much, and let your reading be of a right kind. Reject with disdain, as you ought, the libel which has been circulated by some against your understanding—that poetry and novels are the books most adapted to the understanding and feelings of young ladies. On this topic I refer you to the chapter on Books. I cannot, however—but insert here a few additional hints on the subject.

To assist in the right formation of your character, I very urgently recommend the perusal of Mrs. Hannah More's "The Modern System of Female Education;" for although this work is more particularly intended for mothers, it may be read with immense advantage also by daughters. The views of this incomparable woman are so correct, and also enlarged, so accordant with reason, and what is still more important, so harmonious with Scripture—that you cannot look up to a better guide.

"Serious study serves to harden the mind for more trying conflicts; it lifts the reader from sensation to intellect; it abstracts her from the world and its vanities; it fixes a wandering spirit, and fortifies a weak one; it corrects that spirit of trifling, which she naturally contracts from the frivolous turn of female conversation, and the petty nature of female employments; it concentrates her attention, assists her in a habit of excluding trivial thoughts, and thus even helps to qualify her for religious pursuits."

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