Dear Children:—I wish it were in my power to give you a perfect and vivid representation of the manners of your lamented Mother. There was in them a sweetness, a gracefulness, and an attraction truly rare. Wherever she went, they at once gained her friends. I am sure if you had been old enough at her decease to appreciate them; or, if I could now depict them to the life, you would have a deeper impression of the importance of happy manners; of their value to their possessor; of their benign influence on social intercourse, than I can now hope to impart. As it is, I hope you will be willing to take on trust my statement of the fact concerning her, and that you will be stimulated to seek a similar accomplishment.
If it be true, as has been often said, that a good face is an "open letter of recommendation," wherever its possessor appears; we may, with quite as much emphasis, say the same of pleasant engaging manners. Nay, we may go farther. The most beautiful face and form that ever existed, if unaccompanied by agreeable manners, will soon be contemplated with indifference, if not with disgust. While, on the contrary, where there is an entire absence of personal beauty, there may be, and often are found, such manners as captivate and win wherever they are seen, and with a power felt by all, however remote they may be from the possession of such manners themselves.
I shall not tax either your patience or my own, by entering largely into the subject of manners. On this extensive subject I refer you to a volume on "Clerical Manners and Habits" which I published a few years ago, and in which considerable minuteness of detail is indulged. For although that work was intended more particularly for the benefit of clergymen, and especially of candidates for the sacred office; yet a large portion of it is equally applicable to all classes and professions, and to both sexes. I recommend the volume referred to, to your serious attention, and to your careful study. And whatever may be your situation in life, I think you will find much in it worthy of your regard. At any rate, if it be not so, I have failed of gaining my main object in its publication.
I will not, however, content myself with merely referring you to the volume in question. It is my wish, in this little system of affectionate advices, to call your attention to a few particulars on this subject which may be considered as more immediately appropriate at your present tender age, and, perhaps, on that account, more likely to dwell upon your memory than the contents of a volume.
You will, perhaps, ask me, what I mean by those "good manners" which I would recommend? I answer, by such manners I mean that mode of personal address and deportment toward all with whom we converse which is dictated by the meekness, benevolence, and purity of the Gospel. In a word, "true politeness"—the most genuine politeness—that which I would earnestly desire those whom I love to cherish and cultivate—isthe religion of Christ acted out in the whole temper, conversation, and deportment. The simple, unembarrassed, gentle expression of mingled respect and kindness toward all with whom we converse, from the hovel to the palace, is the perfection of manners. These are manners which become all times, places, companies, and circumstances, and which will carry their possessor through the world with acceptance and comfort.
Perhaps, in your inexperience, you may be disposed to ask, what is the great value of such manners as are here recommended? If you have any doubt on this subjectnow, I am persuaded a little more knowledge of the world will satisfy you that their value is unspeakably great. Few people are adequate judges of those solid intellectual and moral qualities which form a character of high excellence. But of personal manners, all are judges; at any rate, all are capable of perceiving, and in some degree estimating, their value. Only a small portion of those with whom you converseare able to discern whether you are wise and well informed; but every child can see whether you have a sweet voice, a pleasant countenance, an amiable, kind and respectful mode of address, or the contrary. Can there be, then, a more obvious dictate, both of policy and duty, than to cultivate that which, to multitudes, is more attractive than real merit; which secures to merit a hearing, and an influence which it would not otherwise obtain; and which will be likely, in many cases, to open a door to usefulness which, without it, would, in all probability, have continued impenetrably closed? In repeated instances have I known persons of weak minds, and of small information, but of remarkably fascinating manners, carry all before them in circles of society into which persons of far higher qualifications, both intellectual and moral, but defective in the attractions of manner, were scarcely able to obtain admittance, and very inadequately esteemed when admitted. A soft, insinuating address has, a thousand times, rendered its possessor every where acceptable and popular, when, on the score of real merit, he ought by no means to have enjoyed so much public favour.
But this is not all. Pleasant attractive manners not only have a paramount influence with the superficial and unthinking; but they have more power even on the minds of the wise and the good than is commonly imagined. To every human being, that which is intrinsically excellent, appearsdoubly attractive when presented in a pleasing manner. Truth, even to those who know it to be truth, finds a more cordial welcome; and duty, even among its most sincere and enlightened friends, commands a more ready obedience, when they are clothed in an attractive garb, and speak in alluring accents. That the very same words, which, when uttered by some, are intolerably offensive; when spoken in the mild, respectful manner of others, are welcome, and even delightful—that the very same action, which, performed by some, is censured; when performed by others, of perhaps less talent or virtue, is lauded to excess; are among the most notorious facts in human life; and that not in the circles of ignorance and dissipation only, but also in those of the most estimable portions of mankind.
To despise or undervalue the cultivation ofmanners, then, argues a great want of practical wisdom. It is a subject worthy of your constant regard. To neglect it, is equally to oppose reason and experience, and to set at naught some of the most precious means of gaining access to the human heart. And when I speak of cultivating good manners, do not imagine that I mean the formal, showy, pompous manners which some commend, and seem to aim at. The truth is, the perfection of manners—the ultimate point which is the result of the very best culture, is to attain that ease, simplicity, modesty, and gentleness of deportment inevery thing, which has nothing of the artificial, nothing of display about it. But to be more particular.
The first characteristic of manners to which I would direct your attention, as lying at the foundation of all excellence, isbenignity. Without the law ofbenevolence, reigning in the heart, and governing the temper and the life, there may be much pomp and courtliness of manner; many a heartless smile, and many a flattering form of address; but there can be no genuine politeness. The essence of this consists in the spirit of cordial good will and kindness shining in the countenance; expressing itself in the language and tones of respect and benevolent regard; and flowing through all the channels of human intercourse, and all the minutiæ of human life. This is the vital principle of good manners. Just in proportion as you really desire to increase the happiness of all around you; to consult their ease; to anticipate their wants; and to promote their welfare—you will spontaneously manifest these feelings in all situations and companies. Your whole deportment will be pleasing, attractive, and graceful, without your having studied artificial rules. This is the foundation and the sum of all; but it may not be improper to trace the radical principle into some of its minute details.
In all social intercourse, letrespectful attentionmark your whole manner. To turn away youreyes from the person who is addressing you; or to manifest in any way that you are thinking, or wish to be thinking, of something else, is a great breach of good manners; cannot fail of giving pain to those with whom you converse; and must deprive you of a large part of the benefit of conversation. When you look your companion gently and respectfully, but firmly in the face, you manifest attention; you enable yourselves to watch his countenance, and mark the impression which you make on his mind; to say nothing of the power of the eye in seconding and enforcing all that is said.
Cultivateaffabilityof manner. By this I mean that style of manners which is distinguished by ease, simplicity, and courteousness; a deportment opposed to haughtiness, reserve, coldness, or taciturnity; in short, to every thing that is adapted to repel, or to prevent freedom and comfort of approach. I am aware that constitutional temperament has much to do with this. But still, it is equally true that affability may and ought to be carefully cultivated; and that there are few things better adapted to conciliate good will, to inspire confidence, to invite freedom of communication, and to place at ease all with whom we converse.
Study to exercisegentlenessandmildnessin all your deportment and conversation. Guard against every thing harsh, severe, rough, abrupt, or in any way repulsive in your language, voice, or manner.Let the meekness and gentleness of wisdom appear in every look, tone, and expression. By a mild, respectful address, you may at once reprove impertinence, disarm violence, and put even brutality to shame. Give all diligence, then, to be "gentle toward all men." Learn the happy art of conversing with gentleness, of giving your commands with gentleness, of arguing with gentleness, of contending with gentleness, and of even reproving with gentleness. Both commands and reproofs, as well as arguments, when dispensed in this manner, have not only more dignity, but also more weight than when invested with an opposite character.
Few things are more opposed to good breeding than aloud, boisterousmanner in social intercourse. Whether this be indulged in laughter, or in conversation, it is equally exceptionable as an offence against both delicacy and dignity. With regard tofemales, an offence against this rule, is peculiarly revolting. It is a sure sign of vulgarity, and ought to be carefully avoided. But, in either sex, it is a blemish which well bred people never fail to notice.
Closely allied to this is the habit ofrude familiaritywhich some affect, and to which they give the name of social pleasantry. This is undignified, and, to all delicate people, offensive. Mutual dignity and respect are indispensable to the continued existence of Christian intercourse, in its most pure,delicate, and profitable form. If you wish to maintain such intercourse, be free and unconstrained; but never indulge in coarse familiarity. Those who are worthy of your love will certainly be repelled rather than attracted by it.
Remember, too, that allinterruptionof any one with whom you are conversing, or bluntcontradictionof his statements, is an offence against delicate manners. However erroneous he may be, hear him out; and however certain you may be that his representations are false, rectify his mistake, not bluntly, but with kindness and respect.
Guard againsttalking too muchin company. He who is very talkative incurs disadvantages of a very serious kind. He cheapens himself; tires his hearers; and must, of course, diminish his usefulness. However rich and instructive any one's talk may be, yet, if there be too much of it, both his dignity and his influence cannot fail of being impaired. "A fool's voice," says Solomon, "is known by the multitude of his words." "In the multitude of words," says the same inspired teacher, "there wanteth not sin; but he that refraineth his lips is wise." And again, "He that hath knowledge, spareth his words."
But another extreme in social intercourse, is that of excessivereserveandtaciturnity. Some from physical temperament; others from abstraction or absence of mind; and a third class, perhaps, from still more exceptionable causes, wrap themselves up in a chilling reserve in company—never speaking but when addressed; and then answering as briefly as possible, and relapsing into silence again. This is surely unhappy in a social being, and ought to be carefully avoided. While you avoid garrulity, then, sink not down into obstinate silence. If you find yourselves, from any cause, prone to this, it is abundantly worth while to take pains to counteract it, and to labour to have something ready to say that shall be at once acceptable and instructive.
In regard touncleanly and vulgar personal habits, I will not suppose you capable of them: and, therefore, shall not dwell upon them. All spitting on floors, lounging in your seats, putting up your feet on chairs or stools, leaning with your elbows on tables—these, and all similar habits, I hope, after the training you have had, you will avoid with instinctive repugnance. But there is one habit which I would earnestly recommend, as favourable not merely to good manners, but also tohealth. Learn tosit erect, not only in company, but even in your most private apartment. Reading or writing in a half-sunken or reclining posture is unfriendly to a graceful carriage; is apt to betray unwarily into similar postures in company; prepares the way for the sinking, half-bent postures which disfigure so many of the feeble and aged;and really tends to bring on premature decrepitude.
Do not affectwitorpunningin conversation. So many of those who try to make themselves acceptable by such attempts, not only fail, but often render themselves a laughing stock by it, that there is little probability of your succeeding as wits or punsters. But even with respect to those whose talents in this way are ever so great, there is so much danger of their indulging those talents unseasonably and imprudently, so as to offend and alienate friends, that such powers ought to be deprecated rather than desired, and their exercise, if possessed, subjected to the severest restriction. I never knew more than one person of wit who was strictly discreet and delicate in its use. But I have known thousands who, by their miserable attempts to display what they possessed either not at all, or in a very small degree, succeeded only in exposing themselves to ridicule. And I have known many real wits, who almost every day wounded feelings, and alienated friends by their reckless effusions.
Do not indulge the habit in conversation oftalking of yourselves. Hardly any quality is more apt to appear in social intercourse than personal vanity. This leads to egotism, so that the idea ofselfappears to be ever present to the imagination. Hence we perpetually find people talking of themselves; what they have done; what they havesaid; what others have said and done to their honour; in short, bringing into view something to their own advantage, or that of their family or relatives. Rely upon it, if you have real worth, the lessyousay about it the better; and if you have it not, every claim of it, direct or indirect, can only sink you lower in the estimation of those with whom you converse.
Carefully form the habit of adverting to all the properties oftime,placeandcircumstancesin conversation. When you are about, in company, to make a remark, or to introduce a new topic of conversation, look round on the circle, and ask yourself, whether there is any one present whose feelings would be likely to be hurt by what you are about to say, or who would be placed by it in embarrassing circumstances. Be very sure for example, when about to make, in company, an unfavourable remark on an absent person, that no relative or special friend of that person is among your hearers. For, although you ought never to make a remark on any one which the Christian spirit cannot justify; yet in certain circumstances, a remark perfectly proper in itself, may be unseasonable, and peculiarly painful to some who hear it. Guard against the possibility of such an occurrence. This is a dictate of sound worldly policy. A departure from it is a gross violation of true politeness. But it may be said, still more emphatically,to be a departure from the principles of Christian benevolence.
Avoid the too frequentuse of superlativesin conversation. The habit of many, when they wish to express either approbation or censure, is to employ the very strongest terms which the English language affords. If they think favourably of the talents or the performance of any one, they are apt to speak of them as "noble, admirable," as of "the first order;" or in some terms expressive of the very highest excellence. And, on the other hand, if they undertake to express disapprobation, the terms "mean," "execrable," "detestable," are the softest that they think of employing. This is a bad habit. It renders both the praise and censure of those who indulge it of less value in the estimation of all sober-minded and discriminating judges. If you wish your judgment to pass for any thing in the view of the wise and reflecting, you must learn to express opinions in that guarded and moderate manner which indicates intellectual discrimination rather than undistinguishing emotion. You know where it is said "Fools admire, where men of sense approve."
Carefully avoid givingunnecessary troublewherever you are. The difference between different persons in this respect is very conspicuous. Some, when in the houses of their friends, have so many little wants, so many errands to perform, and areso absorbed in their own affairs, that, if permitted, they would keep several servants and others constantly employed in waiting upon them. You may rely upon it you can never be, long together, welcome visitants in families which you subject to so much trouble. Make as few demands as possible on the time and attention of those whose hospitality you are enjoying. Never call upon their servants to wait upon you when it is practicable to avoid it. Never allow the occupations or order of any family to be set aside or disarranged on your account, where it is possible to prevent it. In short, act universally on the principle of doing every thing that you can for yourselves, and making as few demands as possible on the time and labour of those around you.
Incalling on friendsconsult their convenience, as well as your own; and in some cases in preference to your own. Many make their calls at such hours, and sit so inordinately long, as to throw a whole family into disorder, and inflict very serious pain. Never sit long in your social calls at any time; but when you make them at times which may, by possibility interfere with domestic meals, let them bevery short; be on the watch for every symptom of engagement or uneasiness on the part of those whom you visit, and on the appearance of any thing of the kind, instantly take your leave.
Constantly maintain the habit ofearly rising. Few things are more conducive to health and activity both of body and mind. A disposition to lie long in bed in the morning, is, at once, a symptom and a cause of feeble digestion, of nervous debility, and of general languor. Go early to bed. Avoid much night study. Quit your beds by dawn of day, and, in winter, before the dawn, and thus secure several hours of unbroken time, for devotion, for study, and for gentle exercise in the open air, before breakfast, and before the interruptions of the earliest visitors commence.
Cultivate habits of moderation indress. You are never likely to be able to indulge in very inordinate expense in bodily adorning; and I will venture to say, this inability, wherever it exists, is a great blessing. Few things evince more weakness of mind, and absence of Christian principle, than extravagance and splendor in dress. In young men it is a sad evidence of "dandyism" and folly; and even in young females, an excessive indulgence in fashion, in finery, and the extreme ofdevotionto bodily adorning, never fails to depress their character in the estimation of the wise and good. Try to set an example of sober, dignifiedmoderationin regard to this whole subject. Always guard against negligence of dress. Conscientiously avoid exposing yourselves to the charge of careless, slatternly habits. But never make dress an idol. Reject every thing dazzling, or what is commonly called "dashing," in outward ornament. Be not seen aping the extremeof fashion; and ever remember how unworthy it is of Christians to be worshippers of external adorning; and how peculiarly disreputable for the children ofclergymento bear such a character.
Thus, dear children, I have endeavoured, with brevity, to give you a few paternal counsels, which, I would fondly hope, may, by the grace of God, be made to promote your benefit, when the hand which penned them shall be sleeping in the dust. You will perceive from theorderin which I have placed my counsels, that I consider real heart religion as the most indispensable and precious of all attainments; that my first and highest wish concerning you is, that you may love your Father's and Mother's God, and make it your daily aim to follow her to that world of bliss and glory to which, as we trust, she has gone before us. Next to seeing you real Christians, my desire is to see you enlightened, polished, benevolent, amiable, attractive members of society, respected and beloved by all who know you.
Remember, I beseech you, that the friends of your Parents will expect much from you. The advantages which you have enjoyed, and are daily enjoying, impose upon you a solemn responsibility in the sight both of God and man. Many prayers have ascended to heaven on your behalf. Pray without ceasing for yourselves, that you may bepreserved from the paths of sin and folly, and led in the ways of heavenly wisdom.
I have no doubt that the counsels I have given you will commend themselves to your judgment, and that you will promptly form the resolution to make them your constant guide. But you cannot rely upon your own wisdom or strength to do this. Such are your own infirmities, and so multiplied the temptations and allurements which surround you, that you will need at every step, guidance and help from above. Happy will it be for you if you habitually bear this in mind, and acknowledge God in all your ways, that he may direct your steps.
And now, dear children, I bid you farewell. When I look forward, and imagine to myself what may be your course in life—when I think of the corruptions and perils with which you are surrounded, and whatmaybe the result of them, I hardly know how to express my anxieties and fears: but when I recollect the love and faithfulness of that God who blessed your Parents, I feel willing to commit you into his hands, and to trust his grace for your temporal and eternal welfare. May he guide you by his counsel! May he guard you amidst all the dangers of youth and of riper years; and finally, "present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding great joy!" O how unutterably precious the thoughtof meeting you all at last—with those of our beloved family who have already gone before us, and those who are yet to follow—around the throne of our covenant God, and rejoicing forever in his presence and glory! Such will be the prayer until his last breath, of your
Affectionate Grandfather,
SAMUEL MILLER.
Princeton, July 10, 1839.
THE END.
FOOTNOTES:[1]The appearance of these servants of God, in any part of the city, seemed to make "iniquity hide its head," and was often the means of dispersing an idle, youthful group, in which profanity and disorder were beginning their destructive career. Through their influence, in a great measure, the Sabbath was, at least externally, a holy day, on which the public ways exhibited no crowd or bustle, but what was of necessity occasioned by a church-going people.[2]Many will probably have reason for everlasting rejoicing in the kind arrangement which placed them under Mr. Jaudon's instruction. He was truly "a man of God," and the effects of his wise and holy instruction and discipline, we have no doubt are felt in the bosom of many families, and in the hearts of many individuals in Philadelphia, to this day, who will, we trust, be prepared to meet him, where, having turned many to righteousness, "he shall shine as a star for ever and ever."[3]The following passages are so graphic, that it would seem as if our day had set for the likeness, though they were written two thousand six hundred years ago:—"Moreover the Lord saith, because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks, wincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet: Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion: The Lord will take away in that day the bravery of their tinkling ornaments Footnote: about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the head-bands, and the ear-rings, the rings, the changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the whimples, and the crisping pins, and the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils."—Isaiah iii. chap. Behold the contrast! 1 Peter iii. 1-6. 1 Timothy ii. chap. 9-10.[4]It is at once a remarkable indication of the nobleness of those Philadelphia friends already named, and of the extent to which her worth and her sacrifices were appreciated, that on being informed of our final purpose to remove to Princeton, they united in the purchase of a commodious dwelling, which was presented to Mrs. Breckinridge and her children. It is true, one object in view was, the accommodation of the Professor (for the time) of Pastoral Theology and Missionary instruction in the Seminary. But the terms of the gift are specific; and when we attempted to alter the direction of this munificent testimonial, so as to make it theproperty of the Institution, it was peremptorily declined; and the deed was drawn in the name of Margaret Breckinridge and her children.[5]There is poetic beauty in the Stanza of Southey's on the portrait of Bishop Heber, written after his decease; and though fanciful it is striking. Blessed be God our Redeemer, we have surer marks of recognition in the heavenly world."They too, will gazeUpon his effigyWith reverential love,Till they shall grow familiar with its linesAnd know him when they see his face in heaven."[6]The following touching stanzas do more real honour to their illustrious author, (Lord Palmerston) than all the distinctions of his high rank and public life.Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish bringsHis dearest earthly treasure to these springs;Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain,Shall court these salutary springs in vain:Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply,To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye—From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death,And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:—If chance should bring him to this humble line,Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine.Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast,Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd;Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove,Her duty friendship, and her friendship love.But yet, remembering that the parting sighAppoints the just to slumber, not to die,The starting tear I check'd—I kissed the rod,And not to earth resigned her, but to God![7]Drs. Chapman and Meigs, to whom with Dr. Nelson of New York, we all owe more for their unwearied and sympathizing care than we have words to express.[8]One of the most affecting scenes ever witnessed, was the death of a little child, who, in the last moments, called on her motherto die with her. This was the voice of nature. To this call the heart would, but cannot respond. "Here our father and mother must forsake us."[9]A lovely example of the power of this sentiment in subduing grief, is given in the narrative of one of our American missionaries. He and his fellow-labourer were alone in a barbarous land, far away from any creature who cared for their Lord or for them. Suddenly his friend was taken from him. In that awful moment of desertion and anguish, after commending the parting soul to God, and closing the eyes of the dead,he kissed his cold lips, and thought, "What glory has already burst upon his view!"In this thought his sorrow was lost.[10]Life of Goldsmith, prefixed to his Miscellaneous Works.
[1]The appearance of these servants of God, in any part of the city, seemed to make "iniquity hide its head," and was often the means of dispersing an idle, youthful group, in which profanity and disorder were beginning their destructive career. Through their influence, in a great measure, the Sabbath was, at least externally, a holy day, on which the public ways exhibited no crowd or bustle, but what was of necessity occasioned by a church-going people.[2]Many will probably have reason for everlasting rejoicing in the kind arrangement which placed them under Mr. Jaudon's instruction. He was truly "a man of God," and the effects of his wise and holy instruction and discipline, we have no doubt are felt in the bosom of many families, and in the hearts of many individuals in Philadelphia, to this day, who will, we trust, be prepared to meet him, where, having turned many to righteousness, "he shall shine as a star for ever and ever."[3]The following passages are so graphic, that it would seem as if our day had set for the likeness, though they were written two thousand six hundred years ago:—"Moreover the Lord saith, because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks, wincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet: Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion: The Lord will take away in that day the bravery of their tinkling ornaments Footnote: about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the head-bands, and the ear-rings, the rings, the changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the whimples, and the crisping pins, and the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils."—Isaiah iii. chap. Behold the contrast! 1 Peter iii. 1-6. 1 Timothy ii. chap. 9-10.[4]It is at once a remarkable indication of the nobleness of those Philadelphia friends already named, and of the extent to which her worth and her sacrifices were appreciated, that on being informed of our final purpose to remove to Princeton, they united in the purchase of a commodious dwelling, which was presented to Mrs. Breckinridge and her children. It is true, one object in view was, the accommodation of the Professor (for the time) of Pastoral Theology and Missionary instruction in the Seminary. But the terms of the gift are specific; and when we attempted to alter the direction of this munificent testimonial, so as to make it theproperty of the Institution, it was peremptorily declined; and the deed was drawn in the name of Margaret Breckinridge and her children.[5]There is poetic beauty in the Stanza of Southey's on the portrait of Bishop Heber, written after his decease; and though fanciful it is striking. Blessed be God our Redeemer, we have surer marks of recognition in the heavenly world."They too, will gazeUpon his effigyWith reverential love,Till they shall grow familiar with its linesAnd know him when they see his face in heaven."[6]The following touching stanzas do more real honour to their illustrious author, (Lord Palmerston) than all the distinctions of his high rank and public life.Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish bringsHis dearest earthly treasure to these springs;Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain,Shall court these salutary springs in vain:Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply,To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye—From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death,And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:—If chance should bring him to this humble line,Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine.Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast,Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd;Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove,Her duty friendship, and her friendship love.But yet, remembering that the parting sighAppoints the just to slumber, not to die,The starting tear I check'd—I kissed the rod,And not to earth resigned her, but to God![7]Drs. Chapman and Meigs, to whom with Dr. Nelson of New York, we all owe more for their unwearied and sympathizing care than we have words to express.[8]One of the most affecting scenes ever witnessed, was the death of a little child, who, in the last moments, called on her motherto die with her. This was the voice of nature. To this call the heart would, but cannot respond. "Here our father and mother must forsake us."[9]A lovely example of the power of this sentiment in subduing grief, is given in the narrative of one of our American missionaries. He and his fellow-labourer were alone in a barbarous land, far away from any creature who cared for their Lord or for them. Suddenly his friend was taken from him. In that awful moment of desertion and anguish, after commending the parting soul to God, and closing the eyes of the dead,he kissed his cold lips, and thought, "What glory has already burst upon his view!"In this thought his sorrow was lost.[10]Life of Goldsmith, prefixed to his Miscellaneous Works.
[1]The appearance of these servants of God, in any part of the city, seemed to make "iniquity hide its head," and was often the means of dispersing an idle, youthful group, in which profanity and disorder were beginning their destructive career. Through their influence, in a great measure, the Sabbath was, at least externally, a holy day, on which the public ways exhibited no crowd or bustle, but what was of necessity occasioned by a church-going people.
[2]Many will probably have reason for everlasting rejoicing in the kind arrangement which placed them under Mr. Jaudon's instruction. He was truly "a man of God," and the effects of his wise and holy instruction and discipline, we have no doubt are felt in the bosom of many families, and in the hearts of many individuals in Philadelphia, to this day, who will, we trust, be prepared to meet him, where, having turned many to righteousness, "he shall shine as a star for ever and ever."
[3]The following passages are so graphic, that it would seem as if our day had set for the likeness, though they were written two thousand six hundred years ago:—"Moreover the Lord saith, because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks, wincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet: Therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion: The Lord will take away in that day the bravery of their tinkling ornaments Footnote: about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the head-bands, and the ear-rings, the rings, the changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the whimples, and the crisping pins, and the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils."—Isaiah iii. chap. Behold the contrast! 1 Peter iii. 1-6. 1 Timothy ii. chap. 9-10.
[4]It is at once a remarkable indication of the nobleness of those Philadelphia friends already named, and of the extent to which her worth and her sacrifices were appreciated, that on being informed of our final purpose to remove to Princeton, they united in the purchase of a commodious dwelling, which was presented to Mrs. Breckinridge and her children. It is true, one object in view was, the accommodation of the Professor (for the time) of Pastoral Theology and Missionary instruction in the Seminary. But the terms of the gift are specific; and when we attempted to alter the direction of this munificent testimonial, so as to make it theproperty of the Institution, it was peremptorily declined; and the deed was drawn in the name of Margaret Breckinridge and her children.
[5]There is poetic beauty in the Stanza of Southey's on the portrait of Bishop Heber, written after his decease; and though fanciful it is striking. Blessed be God our Redeemer, we have surer marks of recognition in the heavenly world.
"They too, will gazeUpon his effigyWith reverential love,Till they shall grow familiar with its linesAnd know him when they see his face in heaven."
"They too, will gazeUpon his effigyWith reverential love,Till they shall grow familiar with its linesAnd know him when they see his face in heaven."
"They too, will gazeUpon his effigyWith reverential love,Till they shall grow familiar with its linesAnd know him when they see his face in heaven."
"They too, will gaze
Upon his effigy
With reverential love,
Till they shall grow familiar with its lines
And know him when they see his face in heaven."
[6]The following touching stanzas do more real honour to their illustrious author, (Lord Palmerston) than all the distinctions of his high rank and public life.
Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish bringsHis dearest earthly treasure to these springs;Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain,Shall court these salutary springs in vain:Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply,To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye—From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death,And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:—If chance should bring him to this humble line,Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine.Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast,Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd;Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove,Her duty friendship, and her friendship love.But yet, remembering that the parting sighAppoints the just to slumber, not to die,The starting tear I check'd—I kissed the rod,And not to earth resigned her, but to God!
Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish bringsHis dearest earthly treasure to these springs;Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain,Shall court these salutary springs in vain:Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply,To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye—From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death,And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:—If chance should bring him to this humble line,Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine.Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast,Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd;Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove,Her duty friendship, and her friendship love.But yet, remembering that the parting sighAppoints the just to slumber, not to die,The starting tear I check'd—I kissed the rod,And not to earth resigned her, but to God!
Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish bringsHis dearest earthly treasure to these springs;Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain,Shall court these salutary springs in vain:Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply,To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye—From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death,And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:—If chance should bring him to this humble line,Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine.Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast,Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd;Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove,Her duty friendship, and her friendship love.But yet, remembering that the parting sighAppoints the just to slumber, not to die,The starting tear I check'd—I kissed the rod,And not to earth resigned her, but to God!
Whoe'er, like me, with trembling anguish brings
His dearest earthly treasure to these springs;
Whoe'er, like me, to soothe distress and pain,
Shall court these salutary springs in vain:
Condemn'd, like me, to hear the faint reply,
To mark the fading cheek, the sinking eye—
From the chill brow to wipe the damps of death,
And watch in dumb despair the short'ning breath:—
If chance should bring him to this humble line,
Let the sad mourner know his pangs were mine.
Ordain'd to lose the partner of my breast,
Whose virtues warm'd me, and whose beauty bless'd;
Fram'd ev'ry tie that binds the heart to prove,
Her duty friendship, and her friendship love.
But yet, remembering that the parting sigh
Appoints the just to slumber, not to die,
The starting tear I check'd—I kissed the rod,
And not to earth resigned her, but to God!
[7]Drs. Chapman and Meigs, to whom with Dr. Nelson of New York, we all owe more for their unwearied and sympathizing care than we have words to express.
[8]One of the most affecting scenes ever witnessed, was the death of a little child, who, in the last moments, called on her motherto die with her. This was the voice of nature. To this call the heart would, but cannot respond. "Here our father and mother must forsake us."
[9]A lovely example of the power of this sentiment in subduing grief, is given in the narrative of one of our American missionaries. He and his fellow-labourer were alone in a barbarous land, far away from any creature who cared for their Lord or for them. Suddenly his friend was taken from him. In that awful moment of desertion and anguish, after commending the parting soul to God, and closing the eyes of the dead,he kissed his cold lips, and thought, "What glory has already burst upon his view!"In this thought his sorrow was lost.
[10]Life of Goldsmith, prefixed to his Miscellaneous Works.