Lift the heart and bend the knee.Mrs. Hemans.
The superior influence of the mother in forming the character of the child, is generally conceded. Biographical literature abounds with illustrations of this fact, and renders it incontrovertible. As examples, in Great Britain, we are often, with propriety, pointed to the mothers of Isaac and John Newton, Doddridge, the Wesleys, Richard Cecil, Legh Richmond and many others; but it is needless for any people to search in foreign lands for such examples.
In the notices of the mothers of Washington, Jackson, Randolph, Dwight and some others, on preceding pages of this volume, the truth of the same proposition is endeavored to be substantiated: and, as facts most forcibly illustrate argument, and wholesome hints are often easiest given by example, we will add two or three more anecdotes having a bearing on this point.
The mother of Jonathan Edwards, it is well known, began to pray for him as soon as he was born; and probably no mother ever strove harder than she torear a child "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." The result of her efforts is known to the world.
The late Professor Knowles, of the Newton theological institution, received much pious instruction from his mother in his infant years; and, as he lost his father at the age of twelve, at that period she assumed wholly the guidance of his steps and his studies. She early discovered his love of books and his promising talents; and while she admonished him, and led him to the Saviour, she also sympathized with him in his literary taste and encouraged him in his scientific pursuits. The zealous minister, the learned biblical instructor, the polished writer and biographer of the first Mrs. Judson, owed very much to the moral training and the literary encouragement of his faithful mother.
Nearly half a century ago, the mother of the celebrated Beecher family, made the following record: "This morning I rose very early to pray for my children; and especially that my sons may be ministers and missionaries of Jesus Christ." The "fervent" prayers of the good woman were "effectual:" her five sons became "ministers and missionaries of Jesus Christ," and all her children—eight in number—are connected with the "household of God"—several on earth and one,[73]at least, in heaven.
——MuteThe camel labors with the heaviest load,And the wolf dies in silence; not bestowedIn vain should such examples be; if they,Things of ignoble or of savage mood,Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay,May temper it to bear—it is but for a day.Byron.
Mrs. Scott, a resident of Washington county, Virginia, was taken captive by Indians on the night of the twenty-ninth of June, 1785. Her husband and all her children were slain; and before morning she was forced to commence her march through the wilderness.
On the eleventh day of her captivity, while in charge of four Indians, provision becoming scarce, a halt was made, and three of the number went on a hunting excursion. Being left in the care of an old man, she made him believe she was reconciled to her condition, and thus threw him off his guard. Anxious to escape, and having matured her plans, she asked him, in the most disinterested manner possible, to let her go to a small stream, near by,and wash her apron, which was besmeared with the blood of one of her children. He gave her leave, and while he was busy in "graining a deer-skin," she started off. Arriving at the stream, without a moment's hesitation, she pushed on in the direction of a mountain. Traveling till late at night, she came into a valley where she hoped to find the track along which she had been taken by her captors, and thereby be able to retrace her steps. Hurrying across the valley to the margin of a river, which she supposed must be the eastern branch of the Kentucky, she discovered in the sand the tracks of two men who had followed the stream upwards and returned. Thinking them to be the prints of pursuers, and that they had returned from the search, she took courage, thanked God, and was prepared to continue her flight.
On the third day she came very near falling into the hands of savages, a company whom she supposed had been sent to Clinch river on a pilfering excursion. Hearing their approach before they came in sight, she concealed herself, and they passed without noticing her. She now became greatly alarmed, and was so bewildered as to lose her way and to wander at random for several days.
At length, coming to a stream that seemed to flow from the east, she concluded it must be Sandy river; and resolving to trace it to its source, which was near a settlement where she was acquainted, she pushed on for several days, till she came into mountainous regions and to craggy steeps. There, in the vicinityof a "prodigious waterfall," she was forced to leap from a precipice, upon some rocks, and was so stunned as to be obliged to make a short delay in her journey.
Soon after passing through the mountain,[74]she was bitten by a snake which she supposed was venomous. She killed it, and expected her turn to die would come next; but the only injury she received was some pain and the slight swelling of one foot. A writer, whose narration we follow and whose facts are more reliable than his philosophy, thinks that, being "reduced to a mere skeleton, with fatigue, hunger and grief," she was probably, on that account, "saved from the effects of the poisonous fangs."
Leaving the river, Mrs. Scott came to a forked valley, and watching the flight of birds, took the branch they did, and in two days came in sight of New Garden, the settlement on Clinch river, before referred to. Thus, after wandering in the wilderness for six long weeks, almost destitute of clothing, without a weapon of defence or instrument for obtaining provision; exposed to wild beasts and merciless savages; subsisting a full month on the juice of young cane stalks, sassafras leaves and similar food; looking to God in prayer for guidance by day, and for protection by night; shielded from serious harm, and led by an unseen Hand, on the eleventh of August, the wanderings of the widowed and childless captive were brought to a close.
"Courage, prove thy chance once more."
While Colonel Tarleton was marching through North Carolina, near the close of the Revolution, he passed two nights in Halifax county. From malice or because of a scarcity of provision, he caused his troops to catch all the horses, cattle, hogs, fowls, etc., that could be found, most of which were destroyed. The inhabitants generally fled and concealed themselves in the neighboring swamps and thickets. One young lady, however, in the upper part of the county, where they spent the second night, refused to retire. Remaining on the premises alone, when the marauders came for the horses and cattle thereon, Miss Bishop[75]ordered them off; but they did not obey. Among the animals they drove to camp, was a favorite pony of hers, which she resolved to recover. When night come on, she went unarmed to the camp, about a mile distant, and boldly made known her errand to Tarleton. "Your roguish men in red coats," she said to him, "came to my father's house about sundown and stole my pony, and I have walked herealone and unprotected, to claim and demand him; and, sir, I must and I will have him. I fear not your men. They are base and unprincipled enough to dare to offer insult to an unprotected female; but their cowardly hearts will prevent them from doing her any bodily injury." While thus speaking, her eye happened to fall on her favorite animal, upon which the camp fire flung its light, and she added, "There, sir, is my horse. I shall mount him and ride peacefully home; and if you have any gentlemanly feeling within you, of which your men are totally destitute, or, if you have any regard for their safety, you will see, sir, that I am not interrupted. But, before I go, I wish to say to you that he who can, and will not, prevent this base and cowardly stealing from henroosts, stables and barn-yards, is no better, in my estimation, than the mean, good-for-nothing, guilty wretches who do the dirty work with their own hands! Good night, sir."
Tarleton took the hint; ordered his soldiers not to molest her; and she was suffered to take the pony and gallop peacefully home.
——The officeBecomes a woman best; I'll take it upon me.Shakspeare.
The subject of this brief notice was a sister of General Isaac Worrell. She died two or three years since, in Philadelphia. The following tribute to her patriotism and humanity, was paid by a New Jersey newspaper, in July, 1849:
"The deceased was one of those devoted women who aided to relieve the horrible sufferings of Washington's army at Valley Forge—cooking and carrying provisions to them alone, through the depth of winter, even passing through the outposts of the British army in the disguise of a market woman. And when Washington was compelled to retreat before a superior force, she concealed her brother, General Worrell,—when the British set a price on his head—in a cider hogshead in the cellar for three days, and fed him through the bunghole; the house being ransacked four different times by the troops in search of him, without success. She was over ninety years of age at the time of her death."
——Our livesIn acts exemplary, not only winOurselves good names, but do to others giveMatter for virtuous deeds, by which we live.Chapman.
Elizabeth Chipman was born in Essex county, Massachusetts, in May, 1756. She was the daughter of a talented and eminent lawyer of Marblehead, and inherited a highly respectable share of his mental endowments. Her intellectual faculties and moral feelings were early and highly developed; and when, in 1782, she was married to William Gray, the celebrated millionaire, of Salem, in her native county, she was prepared, in all respects, to command the highest influence in society. But, although the wife of the richest man in Massachusetts and probably in New England, she never rose above her duties as a housekeeper, a mother and a Christian. She managed her domestic affairs personally and economically; and inculcated in the minds of her six children, by example as well as precept, the best habits and the noblest principles. "She divided her time between reading, household affairs, and duties to society, insuch a manner as never for a moment to be in a hurry."[76]She was as well known by the poor as the rich: her virtues irradiated every sphere. She was anxious to exalt as much as possible the Christian profession; hence she rode in a plain carriage, and avoided all unnecessary display, "that no evil precedents of expense could arise from her example."
The latter years of this excellent woman were passed in Boston, whither the family had removed, and where she died on the twenty-fourth of September, 1823. In her benevolent acts and cheerful life, is beautifully exemplified the truth of the poet's assertion:
On piety humanity is built,And on humanity, much happiness.
Earthly power doth then show likest gods,When mercy seasons justice.Shakspeare.
Susan Mansfield was the daughter of the Rev. Achilles Mansfield, of Killingworth, Connecticut, and was born on the twenty-seventh of January, 1791. At the age of eighteen or nineteen, she was married to Joshua Huntington, pastor of the Old South church, Boston. She died in 1823. Her memoirs, written by her husband's pastoral successor, B. B. Wisner, was, at one time, a very popular work. It passed through five editions in Scotland, in a very few years.
Her husband preceded her to the grave four years. While a widow, she was robbed of several articles of jewelry by a young woman; and the articles were recovered, and the thief arrested and tried. During the examination, Mrs. Huntington was called into court to identify the property; and having done this, she was asked their value. Knowing that the degree of punishment depended somewhat on the apprisal of the property, and pitying the poor girl, she hinted thatshe never used much jewelry, and was not a good judge of its value. A person was then called upon to prize the several articles; and she told him to bear in mind that they had been used for many years, were consequently damaged, and out of fashion. In this way she secured a low and, to herself, a satisfactory valuation. She then addressed the judge, stating that she had herself taken the jewelry from a trunk; had carelessly left it exposed on a table; had thus thrown temptation in the way of the girl, and suggested that her own heedlessness might possibly have been the cause of the offence. She did not, she assured the judge, wish to interfere with his duties, or wrongly bias his decisions, but she would, nevertheless, esteem it a favor, if the punishment inflicted on the unfortunate transgressor, could be the lightest that would not dishonor the law. Hoping the ignorant girl would repent and reform, she left the stand with tears in her eyes, which greatly affected the judge. In his sentence he reminded the culprit, that the person whom she had most offended, was the first to plead for a mitigation of her punishment, and had saved her from the extreme rigors of a broken law.
——All were welcome and feasted.Longfellow.
In the summer of 1777, while Washington was encamped near Brandywine, a large party of foragers came into the neighborhood, and the General gave orders to a company of his troops, to go in pursuit of them early the next morning, and, if possible, cut off their retreat. As an engagement might ensue, he also gave orders that the women should leave the camp. Receiving intelligence of the latter order, and unwilling to be included in it, the wife of Colonel Clement Biddle, an intimate associate of Mrs. Washington in the camp, went to the General and told him that the officers, who had gone on the expedition, would be likely to return hungry, and she would consider it a favor to be allowed to remain and prepare some refreshment for them. Washington complied with her request, and her servant was immediately posted off in search of provision.
Receiving information that a band of "rebels" was in pursuit of them, the foragers took a quick step out of the neighborhood. The pursuers returnedat a late dinner hour exceedingly fatigued and ripe for attacking the "good things" prepared by Mrs. Biddle. Notified of her generosity, the officers forthwith repaired to her quarters, each saying, on his entrance, "Madam, we hear that you feed the army to-day." It is said that at least a hundred officers enjoyed her hospitalities on that occasion.
They ate like Famine, fast and well,Piling their plates with turkeys slain;They conquered—bones alone could tellOf fowls late bled at every vein.
——When your head did but ache,I knit my handkerchief about your brows,* * * * *And with my hand at midnight held your head;And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,Still and anon cheered up the heavy time.Shakspeare.
When the yellow fever broke out in Philadelphia, several years ago, it was extremely difficult to obtain help at the hospital; application was consequently made to the female convicts in the prison. Braving the danger of becoming nurses for the sick under such circumstances, as many as were needed readily profered their aid, and remained as long as desired. There was a scarcity of bedsteads, and these females were asked for theirs. Willing to sacrifice the meagre comforts of a convict for the sake of alleviating the condition of the sick and the dying, they not only gave up their bedsteads, but bedding also. Such humane conduct, coming from whom it may, is deserving of praise and worthy of record.
——If a soul thou wouldst redeem,And lead a lost one back to God;Wouldst thou a guardian angel seemTo one who long in guilt hath trod;Go kindly to him—take his hand,With gentlest words, within thine own,And by his side a brother stand,Till all the demon thou dethrone.Mrs. C. M. Sawyer.
The subject of this notice was a native of Fredericksburg, Virginia. She was born in 1773. Her maiden name was Barrett. She was married to William Allen, a merchant of Baltimore, at the age of sixteen; resided in that city for several years, and became the mother of seven children. All but one of them died in infancy. Her husband was lost at sea, in 1808, when her only surviving child was about eighteen months old.
Soon after becoming a widow she removed to the city of New York. There, in 1814, she was united in marriage with William Prior, a benevolent and public-spirited member of the Society of Friends. She was herself at that time in communion with the Baptists, she having united with them beforethe death of her first husband. In 1819 she joined the Methodists, with whom she remained in church-fellowship the residue of her life.
When the New York Orphan Asylum was instituted, she was appointed one of the managers and was, thenceforward, incessantly engaged in benevolent operations. We first find her in the more conspicuous "walks of usefulness," in the severe winter of 1818 and '19. There being, at that time, no public fund for meeting the wants of the poor, she made arrangements with her nearest neighbor—herself a kind-hearted, humane woman—to prepare soup three times a week for the destitute in the ninth ward. She had previously visited that part of the city and made herself acquainted with many suffering individuals. All who applied for soup, if not known, she accompanied to their homes, and presented them with tickets entitling them to further supplies, if found to be true objects of charity. Many, it is thought, were saved from starvation by her humane exertions. "These, and similar deeds of mercy, tended to enlarge her heart: while she watered others, she was watered also herself, and felt continually the truth of the assertion, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"[77]
Notwithstanding her arduous, public duties, Mrs. Prior managed her household affairs with care, neatness and regularity. It has been appropriately said of her that she had "a place for every thing andevery thing in its place." The time that some spend in fashionable and heartless calls, she devoted to industry and humanity. By rising early, working late, observing the strictest rules of economy, and subjecting herself, at times, to self-denial, she was able to visit the suffering, and to make daily appropriations from her own table for their relief.
Numerous instances of her self-denial have been related, and one of them we will repeat. She usually obtained assistance to do her washing, and limited herself to a dollar a week to meet that expense. Sometimes the amount she wished to devote to some particular object fell short, and in such instances she would do the washing herself, and thereby save the dollar. She felt, in such cases, as has been remarked, that "the personal effort was made a blessing to herself of greater value than the sum saved."
In the year 1822, Mrs. Prior visited the families on Bowery hill, where she had resided the three previous years; thoroughly acquainted herself with their moral condition and necessities; established a school for poor children; commenced her long-continued weekly visits for conversation and prayer with the pupils, and secured the sympathies and pecuniary assistance of several Christians to aid in supporting the school from year to year. She herself contributed one hundred dollars annually for its maintenance.
On the fourteenth of September, 1829, this good woman again became a widow. Previous to this date she had lost her seventh child, and an adopted one. She had also taken a second motherless childinto her family. About the year her second husband died, Bowery hill was dug away, and she changed her residence.
When, in the early part of 1833, the Moral Reform society was organized, she became a prominent member of its board of managers, and, four years afterwards, commenced, under its patronage, her memorable labors as a city missionary. These she continued till 1842, in which year, on the seventh of April, her earthly work was finished.
Two or three incidents connected with her labors as a missionary, will show, in part, at least, the character of her work and the philanthropic spirit by which she was ever actuated.
As she was once passing through the streets, she was accosted by a lady who inquired her name, and wished to know if she did not belong to the society which had opened a register of direction for the accommodation of respectable females. Ascertaining that she was not mistaken in the person, the stranger told Mrs. Prior that two female acquaintances of hers were out of work, had become reduced to want, and were so wretched as to threaten to drown themselves, unless they soon found a situation. They had been working for houses connected with the southern trade which had failed, and thus thrown them out of employment. Learning their residence, Mrs. Prior visited them immediately; told them of the enormity of the crime they had threatened to commit; that she would try to secure work for them, and that it was their duty to seek the grace of God to sustainthem in such trying seasons. The next day she found situations for them in pious families, and thus, while she probably saved them from committing suicide, she was, perhaps, the instrument, in the hands of God, of saving them from infamy and eternal ruin.
Passing through the suburbs of the city one day, her attention was arrested by the chime of youthful voices. Seeing that the music proceeded from some little beggar-girls, who were sitting in the sun beside the fence and singing a Sabbath school hymn, she inquired of them what they were doing, when the following dialogue occurred: "We were cold, ma'am, and are getting warm in the sun." "Where do you live?" "In Twentieth street, ma'am." "Why have you come so far away from your homes?" "To get some food and some things to make a fire." "Why were you singing?" "To praise God: we go to the Sunday school, and our teacher says if we are good children God will never let us want." Pleased with the modest and artless answers to her questions, the good woman took them across the street, procured each of them a loaf of bread, gave them some pious counsel, and left them with smiles on their faces and gratitude in their hearts.
Mrs. Prior frequently visited the city prison, and on occasion[78]went to Sing Sing. She made a record of her visit to the latter place, from which we make an extract: "In visiting the female convicts at theircells on Sabbath morning, after Sabbath school, which, under the customary regulations, we were permitted to do, we found nearly all employed in reading their Bibles. We conversed with them respecting the welfare of their souls, and as we knelt with them at the throne of grace, they on one side of the grated door and we on the other, we felt that He who healed a Mary Magdalene, is still the same compassionate Saviour, and our faith, we trust, apprehended him as the atoning sacrifice, who bore our sins in his own body on the tree, and opened a way for the salvation of even the chief of sinners."
Being on an errand of mercy in G—— street one day, she stepped into a house of infamy to leave a certain tract. As soon as she had entered and made known her mission, the door was closed and locked by one of the female inmates, who told her that she was their prisoner. "For a moment," writes Mrs. Prior, in her journal, "my heart was tremulous; I said nothing till the risings of fear were quelled, and then replied pleasantly, 'Well, if I'm a prisoner, I shall pray here, and would sing praises to God if I were not so hoarse. Yes, bless the Lord! his presence can make me happy here or any where, and you can have no power to harm me unless he gives it. This is a dreadful place, to be sure, but it is not so bad as hell; for there, there is no hope. The smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever! What a mercy that we are not all there! what compassion in the blessed Jesus that he spares us, when our sins are every day so great.' I talked to them inthis manner till they were glad to open the door as a signal for my release."
Such were the doings, such was the character, of Margaret Prior. We see her organizing week-day and Sabbath schools, industrial associations and temperance societies; establishing soup houses and orphan asylums; visiting the sick, the poor, the idle, the culprit, the outcast; pointing the dying to a risen Saviour, leading the destitute by the hand to the place of relief, the idle to houses of industry, and warning the outlaw and the corrupt of the certain and terrible doom that would attend persistency in their downward course. With the sweetness, gentleness, simplicity, and delicacy, so becoming in woman under all circumstances, were blended in her character, energy that was unconquerable, courage that danger could not blench, and firmness that human power could not bend. The contemplation of such a character is superficial, if it does not prompt benevolent feelings, re-affirm virtuous resolutions, and revive and strengthen drooping piety.
We are to relieve the distressed, to put the wanderer in the way, and divide our bread with the hungry.—Seneca.
We are to relieve the distressed, to put the wanderer in the way, and divide our bread with the hungry.—Seneca.
The Rev. Thomas Andros, of Berkley, Massachusetts, was a firm patriot and a keen sufferer in the strife for freedom. He was captured whilst on board a privateer, and transferred to the Jersey prison ship. In the autumn of 1781, he escaped; and, skulking through the east end of Long Island, received at the hands of females such marks of pity and kindness as were thought worthy of noting in his journal. The following are extracts:
"I came to a respectable dwelling-house and entered it. Among the inmates were a decent woman and a tailor. To the woman I expressed my want of something to nourish my feeble frame, telling her if she would give me a morsel, it would be a mere act of charity. She made no objection, asked no questions, but promptly furnished me with the dish of light food I desired. Expressing my obligations to her, I rose to depart. But going round through another room, she met me in the front entry, placed a hat on my head, put an apple pie in my hand, andsaid, 'you will want this before you get through the woods.' I opened my mouth to give vent to the grateful feelings with which my heart was filled. But she would not tarry to hear a word, and instantly vanished. The mystery of her conduct I suppose was this: she was satisfied that I had escaped from prison, and if she granted me any succor, knowing me to be such, it might cost her family the confiscation of their estate. She did not therefore wish to ask me any questions or hear me explain who I was in the hearing of the tailor, who might turn informer. This mark of kindness was more than I could well bear, and as I went on the tears flowed copiously! The recollection of her humanity and pity revives in my breast even now the same feeling of gratitude.
"Some time after, in Suffolk county, being repulsed from one dwelling, I entered another, and informed the mistress of the house of my wants. By the cheerfulness and good-nature depicted in her countenance and first movements, I knew my suit was granted, and I had nothing more to say than to apprise her I was penniless. In a few moments she placed on the table a bowl of bread and milk, a dried bluefish roasted, and a mug of cider, and said, 'sit down and eat.'
"It was now growing dark, so I went but a short distance further, entered a house, and begged the privilege of lodging by the fire. My request was granted. There was no one in the house but the man and his wife. They appeared to be cordial friends to each other—it was indeed one of the fewhappy matches. Before it became late in the evening the man took his Bible and read a chapter. He then arose and offered up his grateful acknowledgments and supplications to God through the Mediator. I now began to think I had got into a safe and hospitable retreat. They had before made many inquiries such as indicated that they felt tenderly and took an interest in my welfare. I now confessed my situation to them. All was silence. It took some time to recover themselves from a flood of tears. At last the kind woman said, 'Let us go and bake his clothes.' No sooner said than the man seized a brand of fire and threw it into the oven. The woman provided a clean suit of clothes to supply the place of mine till they had purified them by fire. The work done, a clean bed was laid down on which I was to rest, and rest I did as in a new world; for I had got rid of a swarm of cannibals who were eating me up alive! In the morning I took my leave of this dear family with a gratitude that for fifty years has suffered no abatement."[79]
Unrivalled as thy merit, be thy fame.Tickell.
Few women of modern times have more charmingly exhibited "the beauties of holiness" than Martha Laurens Ramsay, the wife of the historian of South Carolina. In his interesting series of lectures on the Christian graces, the Rev. Dr. Williams very happily refers to her habit of prayer, to illustrate the spirit of brotherly kindness as shown in the mutual intercession of brethren in the same church. "It is animating," he writes, "and yet, as contrasted with our present remissness, humiliating, to read how Baxter and his people held days of fasting and prayer for each other; or to turn to the pages which describe a Christian matron of the South, the wife of Ramsay and the daughter of Henry Laurens, President of the Continental Congress, praying over a list of her fellow-members, name by name, and remembering, to the best of her knowledge, the cares and wants of each before the throne of grace."[80]
Prior to her marriage, and whilst residing in France with her father, she received from him the handsome present of five hundred guineas. Appropriating a very small portion of this sum to her own use, with the bulk she purchased one hundred French Testaments—all to be found in the market—and distributed them amongst the destitute in Vigan and its vicinity, and organized a school there for the instruction of youth, constituting a fund sufficient to oblite rate its annual charges.
Mrs. Ramsay was remarkably economical of time, rising early and devoting every hour to some useful service; and of money, never indulging herself in any needless expenditure. This principle of economy was observed even at her funeral. She directed that it should be at her own private house; and that her coffin should be plain and without a plate. She died on the tenth of June, 1811.
—Courage mounteth with occasion.Shakspeare.
In August, 1781, when the abduction of General Schuyler from his house in the suburbs of Albany, was projected, and John Waltermeyer, the bold partizan of Joseph Bettys, led a motley and blood-thirsty band—tories, Canadians and Indians—in the daring undertaking, a daughter of the General acted so courageous and wise a part as to justify us in giving on outline sketch of the unsuccessful enterprise.
As the family sat in an open door, in the evening of a very sultry day, receiving information that a stranger was waiting at the back gate to see him, General Schuyler mistrusted, at once, that something was wrong; and, instead of repairing to the gate, he instantly closed and fastened the doors, and ran to his bed chamber for his arms. He then hurried his family into the third story, where he immediately discharged a pistol to arouse the careless guards, and afterwards others, to alarm, if possible, the inhabitants of the city. In hurrying up stairs, his wifeoverlooked her infant, which was asleep in the cradle; and she was about to descend, when the General warned her of the danger, and held her back. Seeing her mother's agony, a daughter named Margaret, rushed down stairs into the nursery, caught the child, and was about ascending, when a tomahawk flew past her, simply grazing her dress and slightly injuring it. Hurrying up a private stairway, she was met by Waltermeyer, who roughly exclaimed, "Wench! where is your master?" With remarkable presence of mind, she answered, "Gone to alarm the town." Fearing that such might be the case, Waltermeyer called his pilfering men, who were bagging plate in the dining hall, and began a consultation. Meanwhile the General was also thinking, and devising a stratagem by which to frighten away the kidnappers. He soon threw up a window, and, in the voice of an experienced commander, cried out, "Come on, my brave fellows; surround the house and secure the villains who are plundering." As he anticipated, the gang, hearing these words, snapped the thread of their consultation, and tested the nimbleness of their feet. The reports of the General's arms had alarmed the people of the city, and they came to the rescue just in season to be unneeded.
——True religionIs always mild, propitious and humble,Plays not the tyrant, plants no faith in blood;Nor bears destruction on her chariot wheels;But stoops to polish, succor, and redress,And builds her grandeur on the public good.Miller's Mahomet.
Among the early converts to Christianity in the Cherokee tribe, were a few women, who formed themselves into a society for propagating the Gospel. They felt its expanding power, and, though poor, were anxious to do something for those who were not sharing in the same blessing. The proceeds of their first year's efforts, were about ten dollars; and while deliberating on the manner of its appropriation, one of the members suggested that it be devoted to the promotion of religion among the Osages, giving as a reason that they were the greatest enemies of the Cherokees, and that the Bible teaches Christians to do good to such.
——I should some kindness show them.Shakspeare.
Among the early settlements of New Hampshire, were several on the Piscataqua river, in the neighborhood of the present town of Dover. For awhile the aborigines and whites were on amicable terms, and the former not unfrequently paid the latter a friendly visit. On one of those occasions, a pappoos was suddenly seized with illness, and its mother was obliged to remain several days. She found shelter and accommodations with a widow, who received her cordially, and nursed the feeble infant as her own. Such kindness would not be forgotten, even by savages; and when, after the lapse of years, the bow was bent and the hatchet raised against the settlement where the widow resided, the Indians placed a strong guard around her house; and, though the butchery was terrible, she and her family were unharmed.
——When meet nowSuch pairs, in love and honor joined?Milton.
Governor Winthrop, the father of the Massachusetts' colony, married Margaret, the daughter of Sir John Tindal, in April, 1618. She was his third wife, and a woman of rare qualities both of mind and heart. Previous to their emigration to New England, it was not an uncommon occurrence for them to be separated, and their correspondence on such occasions savors of the purest affection. Who does not see the image of a devoted wife and an exalted spirit in the following letter, written about the year 1627:
"My Most Sweet Husband,—How dearly welcome thy kind letter was to me, I am not able to express. The sweetness of it did much refresh me. What can be more pleasing to a wife, than to hear of the welfare of her best beloved, and how he is pleased with her poor endeavors! I blush to hear myself commended, knowing my own wants. But it is your love that conceives the best, and makes all things seem better than they are. I wish that I may be always pleasing to thee, and that those comforts we have ineach other may be daily increased, as far as they may be pleasing to God. I will use that speech to thee, that Abigail did to David: 'I will be a servant to wash the feet of my lord.' I will do any service wherein I may please my good husband. I confess I cannot do enough for thee; but thou art pleased to accept the will for the deed, and rest contented.
"I have many reasons to make me love thee, whereof I will name two: first, because thou lovest God; and secondly, because thou lovest me. If these two were wanting, all the rest would be eclipsed. But I must leave this discourse, and go about my household affairs. I am a bad housewife to be so long from them; but I must needs borrow a little time to talk with thee, my sweet heart. I hope thy business draws to an end. It will be but two or three weeks before I see thee, though they be long ones. God will bring us together in his good time; for which I shall pray.
Farewell, my good husband; the Lord keep thee.
Your obedient wife,
Margaret Winthrop."
Below is another letter from the pen of this good woman, written after her husband had decided to come to Massachusetts, and just before his embarkation:
"My Most Dear Husband,—I should not now omit any opportunity of writing to thee, considering I shall not long have thee to write unto. But, by reason of my unfitness at this time, I must entreat thee to accept of a few lines from me, and not impute it toany want of love, or neglect of duty to thee, to whom I owe more than I ever shall be able to express.
"My request now shall be to the Lord to prosper thee in thy voyage, and enable thee and fit thee for it, and give all graces and gifts for such employments as he shall call thee to. I trust God will once more bring us together before you go, that we may see each other with gladness, and take a solemn leave, till we, through the goodness of our God, shall meet in New England, which will be a joyful day to us. With my best wishes to God for thy health and welfare, I take my leave and rest, thy faithful, obedient wife,
Margaret Winthrop."[81]
Governor Winthrop landed on these shores in June, 1630, and his wife followed him in about a year. She lived till June, 1647, and was perhaps asuseful in her more private, as her husband in his public and highly honorable, sphere. "A woman of singular virtue, prudence, modesty and piety;" though dignified, she was condescending; and knowing her place, she kept, and filled, and honored it. With undimmed and steady lustre, she shone for sixteen years amid the shadows of night that overhung and threatened the infant colony.
Old and young ladies