but it is these extrinsic circumstances which cause the horror of dying scenes, while the simple act of dying might have been performed as easily and silently as the mature fruit drops on the bosom of mother earth, again to bud and blossom in renovated beauty.

reckoning day is not near; whereas, the truly pious | rience will abundantly furnish us with examples to man would be equally religious, were he certain show the fallacy of such reasoning. It is probable of passing from heaven to earth without encounter-that in severe sickness we suffer more in one moing the "king of terrors," as did Enoch and Elisha ment than we shall in dying. With many, no of old. The wicked certainly have cause to dread doubt the associations with which they have althe consequences of death; but if they seek reli-ways heard death connected, and with others, the gion only as a refuge from the "grim monster," hopeless remorse which succeeds misspent time, their apprehensions should remain unmitigated. may make the passage into another world terrific; There are other motives which would seem more efficacious in producing religious sentiment than fear of any description. Love is the divine principle which should regulate all spiritual operations, and is the pivot on which the conduct of the truly pious revolves-love to God and man. The language of inspiration is, God is love:-three small Poetry too has lent its witching influence to words, but embodying an idea the most important, strengthen the spell by which mankind is held in the most significant, the most cheering. Jesus bondage to the fear of death. We read of the said, If ye love me, keep my commandments. The "sable pall" and "doleful knell," until the fasciamount of misery produced by the fear of death is nated and enfeebled mind neglects the healthful incalculable; and were it attended by any co-exten- exercises of religious trust and hope, and sinks sive good, it were the less deplorable. True, if we into profitless and morbid musings. If children listen to imagination, she will create a spectre that heard death spoken of as a kind and beautiful anmay well cause misgivings, if we sit and gaze at gel, coming to take them from a world where they it; but one thrust from the spear of reason, will are sick and do wrong and see much sorrow, to convince us that it is unsubstantial as a fading kind friends and a beautiful world above, where a vision. We gaze on the dying form, and say it is good Father loves all and makes all happy, it would "struck with death," and fancy that the feeble sys- contribute much to the happiness of our species, tem is struggling with an unpitying tyrant-that and could do no injury. As soon as their minds his icy fingers are about the heart-strings, and that are capable, they should certainly be taught the helpless mortality at length becomes his prey. consequences of bad conduct here and hereafter. The ravings of heathenism might find vent in such But their first religious impression should be love language, but it should not be found in a Christian to God, which it is difficult to keep in action, while vocabulary. I would not speak lightly of the rend- they consider this relentless tyrant as his chosen ing of life's affections, apparently forever;-it is a minister. Even the professed Christian often contemplation the most sad-ah, agonizing!—but manifests a despondency on this subject, which it is for this very reason I would that no factitious cannot be pleasing to God. Before the Sun of or unnecessary grief should weigh down the poor Righteousness rose on our world, David could say, sufferer. It is probable that the act of dying is Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of much less painful and horrible than is generally his saints; and though I walk through the valley imagined. Dying is only a cessation of the move- and shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou ments of the machinery of life, and it is contrary art with me, &c. And shall we, who have the to reason and analogy that this simple stopping to teachings and example of the Saviour to cheer us, live, should be attended with the horrors with which fear to step over the narrow isthmus which sepa we sometimes hear it depicted. Where physical rates time from eternity, as if we thought the contortions of the system would lead to the belief mercy and love which had attended us through so of extreme suffering, it is most generally the case many dangers, would then desert us? Were this that a veil of insensibility shrouds the spirit, or tor- passage so awful, would our kind Master have pidity benumbs sensation. We read of falling failed to leave some message of comfort express asleep in Jesus. Sleep is in many respects a type to cheer expiring nature in this last conflict, whist of death, and the dissolution of our being may be He so feelingly sympathizes with us, and strives nothing more than closing our eyes forever on the to strengthen us in the other afflictions to which we scenes of earth. It may be asked, why should are incident? Many are the precepts and examsickness usually precede death, if it be not some- ples to teach us to live well; while death is only thing terrible? Because it leaves time, in most incidentally alluded to, as a great law of our na cases, for the adjustment of worldly matters, with ture, to which all must submit, and for which no other reasons which might be suggested, without extra preparation is necessary. Is it not then to however pretending to be dogmatical on a point so be lamented that, with many, Religion seems to much above our capacity. But because the har-much to consist in a superstitious awe on this subbinger which precedes death is painful, it does ject; while the great commands, to forgive until not follow that death itself is so; for, our expe- seventy times seven, to beware of covetousness,

concealed tear; and unheeded as he may be, his suffering for the moment is intense. Would Unbelief say that the child were ill-used, in forcing on him this necessary discipline? But it causes him much misery, and he cannot see its design. And let him observe that the child does not murmur, though keen his sorrow; but with artless submission, yields to a power he knows to be wiser than himself. He knows, too, that his father loves him; he has seen many indications of that love; and he trusts to it now, and does not seek to know why he thus afflicts him. What a beautiful lesson does nature here teach the doubting heart!

to judge righteous judgment, and to cultivate that charity which shall make us look upon the whole human family as brothers, are seldom thought of or prayed for. Did not our Redeemer show his power over death in his own person and others? And is He not our Leader, our Friend, our Brother, our Saviour? and shall we not be safe "beneath the shadow of his wings?" Why should we so fear to die? Did not Jesus say, He that believeth on me shall never die? We die only in appearance the soul lives on! Does not the New Testament represent the Saviour as having conquered death-as having delivered mankind from the bondage of its fear? Unbelief will say, in its Perhaps it is not wonderful, that we should be erratic musings, that it is strange that through the prone to unbelief on religious subjects; for the oblong course of ages no voice from the spiritual jects of our faith are spiritual, and we are the slaves world has reached us-that, notwithstanding the of corporealisms. From outward things all the longings of quenchless curiosity, and the yearnings apparatus of the mind is borrowed. The great of bereaved affections, all is dark and unknown. Locke thought there were no innate ideas of the Wan grief, since time began, has reclined on the mind, but that all our knowledge came through the urn of buried love, and sought with preternatural medium of the senses. Whether or not this be earnestness, for some intimation from that unseen true, it is evident that strong must be the bias of land, to tell if life's affections still exist. Still all sensualism in the mental idiosyncrasy of our nature, is silent. Not a whisper is heard to soothe the and that he must keep up a perpetual conflict who breaking heart. Where is that world to which the would "live after the spirit." Many strong minds, souls of men go? In what remote corner of the who satisfactorily deduce the being of a God, and universe is it, that no faint echo from the countless the immortality of the soul, by a process of reasonthrong reaches us? See that lone widow, who ing, are often conscious of a latent skepticism, weeps and toils through half the wintry night to when imagination attempts to conceive the nature feed her starving, sickly orphan. The wind whis- of God-the locality of Heaven-the occupations tles through the crevices of her drear abode, while of disembodied spirits. We are told that it has her moaning child pines for those comforts for not entered into the mind of man to conceive of which she would barter her heart's blood. Hear these things, and the privileged Apostle was not her call on him, who was her only earthly hope. permitted to divulge the nature of the revelations She prays but to know if he still exists, and still made to him when he was caught up to the third knows and loves her. To know but this, would heavens; but all this mysteriousness only excites sweeten all the bitter cup of life, and make poverty busy and unholy fancy the more, which, caged in and starvation itself a thing of nought. Would on all sides by the bars of corporealism, vainly this little be withheld, did her husband still exist, strives to soar into the ether of pure spirit. Hence and were there a God who beheld her woe? ex- there is no more difficult task than to cultivate spiclaims Unbelief—unable longer to gaze on the ago- ritual mindedness. For, when we wish to dwell nizing picture which his fancy has sketched. Such on heavenly things, we must have recourse to imais the language of Unbelief-perhaps of many a gination for some semblance, however crude, of poor doubting soul, who, in the beautiful language that upper world, to steady the gaze of the mind's of Schiller, longs to believe, but longs in vain. eye; and strive as we may to divest ourselves of But, it may be replied to Unbelief, Who has entered earthly associations, we find that we are dwelling into the council chamber of the Almighty?-are we on a heaven clothed in the imagery of the matefit judges of the stupendous plans of an infinite rial world. Imagination cannot live on pure abmind? There is a bounding, rosy boy, torn, on a straction: and it is imagination which furnishes bright morning, from the sports which thrill his the material which feeds the flame of devotion. It yielding nature with wild delight; and forced, by is impossible to conceive a heaven formed of maparental love, to learn a loathsome task, whose va-terials, which have never passed beneath the cognilue he cannot now appreciate. As he sees from zance of those senses which are the handmaids of his drear prison-house, the beautiful free sunshine, Imagination. These attempts to rise to that spiblessing the happy birds, and even the very dogs rituality inculcated by Religion, are thus rendered and insects, with whom he would fain exchange so difficult, that Unbelief is ready to say, Reliconditions, and hears without the shouts of his for-gion is but a dream. But again, the imperative tunate companions, the thought of his hard fate decisions of Reason tell us that Christianity must swells his bosom with heaving sorrow, and dims the be true. And who will say that our faith shall be lustre of his bright eye with the frequent and ill- governed by idle fancy or veering conjecture, while

Godlike Reason shall urge her data and irrefraga- bility of the mind may also be inferred from its ea-
ble conclusions in vain? It has been conjectured, pacity for suffering. See the fond mother, whose
that we shall never see the Supreme Being, even every hope and fear are centered in her blooming,
when clothed in immortality-that his presence happy boy. Misfortune can assail her only through
will be around us, but invisible. So great is the him. Possessing him, she has riches, honors and
influence of this tyrannical materialism over our all good. While she presses him to her bosom,
nature, that it may be doubted if there are many and drinks in the liquid lustre of his laughing eyes,
minds that would gladly believe this true. The she feels the streams of fresh gladness cheering
adoring pious heart, that has borne the burden of her spirit, and she asks no more of earth. That
life's trials with patient fortitude, because he be- boy sickens and dies! She has to live without him.
lieved that a Father's everlasting arms were un-Through the live-long day, she wanders up and
derneath him, and that soon he would bow at his down her abode, seeking for some spot where she
feet, and, face to face, bless the mercy and love may find rest. At length she seats herself by a
which sustained when every earthly friend deserted window, and gazes out, with a glassy eye, on va-
him,-oh! tell it not, that there will be a heaven cancy; and were art or nature's cunningest handi-
where that Father will always be shrouded in his work there, she would not see it, for before her
pavilion of darkness, or environed in an insuffera-mind passes a vision of other days. She lives over
ble blaze of light and glory. To rejoice in this, again, a well-remembered evening, when she sat
would require a degree of Platonism but illy suited
to our nature. In this imperfect existence, our
mental acumen can never become so attenuated
and spiritualized as to apprehend things beyond
the scope of sense; while in this earthly taber-
nacle, we love to think of the Divine essence as a
Father, whose "eye is on the righteous."

at that same window and watched the sports of him
for whom her soul longeth. Again she sees the
little busy form, the glowing cheek; she hears the
music of that gushing, merry laugh; the happy
face looks up, well pleased to have her sympathy;
and at length, wearied with playful toils, he comes
bounding to her welcome arms, and, nestling in her
bosom, tells her, with sweet simplicity, every
thought of his guileless bosom. A blissful hour
flies away; she hears his pretty nightly prayers;
presses again and again his healthy, velvet cheek
to hers; marks how beautifully the cherub relaxes
into delicious sleep; lingers, and gazes, and prays
for Heaven to bless the boy. All this, blessed re-
trospection gives her. But some rude jar from the
realities around breaks the spell, and she finds that
it was but a dream. She paces the floor with a
distracted air, exclaiming-Gone, gone forever!
Oh, God! pity me, pity me! Now, if her mind were
destructible, could it live on? Deprive the body of
food, and the finite thing dies: but the soul misses
its bread of life, and it cannot die.
Augusta, Geo.

B. M. S.

But notwithstanding this constitutional bias towards unbelief in some minds, there are fortunately many powerful counteracting influences. All the objects and course of nature tell us, there must be a God; and it were well, if amid the din of worldliness, we sometimes paused to listen to this still small voice, which might swell into tones of the richest eloquence. Though no voice has come from the dead to tell us of immortality, there are innumerable voices around us teaching this cheering doctrine. It is only on the supposition that human life is a part only of a vast scheme of things, hereafter to be developed, that the inconsistences which we witness can be accounted for. How can the whole be understood from a part only? That a being of such noble capacities as man, should be created merely to "fret his brief hour" on the stage of this pitiful life, seems preposterous. Let any one study attentively the workings of his own mind, and he will infer that the soul is immortal. The thirst to know, which increases with what it feeds on-the longings after purity and blessedness, which at some time or other visit the most debased mind-the towering ambition, which buoys us upwards from earth-the restlessness, which characterizes our race--all have a language. Who is satisfied? We build houses, and buy lands, and men-servants, and maid-servants; we marry, and are given in marriage; we study to get wisdom, and we write books to teach others; we take the wings of the morning and go to the uttermost parts of the earth--and lo, the demon of unrest is still at our side! Were this world the ultimatum of our "Good little Lulu," replied Mr. Frazer, kissing being, would there be this constant hankering after her again, and again, "there, good night, good night, the untried and the unknown? The indestructi- my brave boy; nurse, take your darlings to bed."

A MISTAKE IN PHILOSOPHY.

BY L. C. T.

Ships have gone down at sea,

When Heaven was all tranquillity.”

"He is indeed a noble fellow!" exclaimed the proud and happy father, kissing the fair forehead of his beautiful boy.

"One kiss for Lulu too," said a sweet blue-eyed little girl, holding up her rosy lips to the delighted father.

"The little creature is jealous of her brother, I fear," whispered the fond mother, "you must not pet the boy too much."

The fire was glowing brightly in the polished twelve years older than yourself, wife, I had old grate,—Mr. Frazer drew his luxurious arm-chair bachelor notions to overcome, and you had to lay towards it, and took up the last number of the aside the airs of a young belle; (but see, Mary, "Southern Literary Messenger." you are twitching the silk into knots)-I had not then learned to govern myself, and you had not learned TO OBEY."

"You are going to read the Messenger, then, this evening, to me; I am too happy," said Mrs. Frazer, taking out her netting and drawing the centre-table nearer to the fire.

"You had not learned, I suppose, to accommodate yourself to my many foibles;" pettishly re"Home is quite too comfortable to leave, on torted Mrs. Frazer, drawing the tangled skein into such a night as this: So, wife, I shall inflict my read-inextricable confusion; "perhaps you did not then, ing and my society upon you;"—and Mr. Frazer magnify them into glaring faults." looked at his beautiful wife, with that mingled feel- "Those were halcyon days, and of course our ing of pride and affection, which men are apt to faults, whatever they were, did not make their apbestow upon those objects which others admire, as pearance. You had been flattered and caressed well as themselves. too much to learn at once that sweet womanly submission which renders a wife so lovely. But what ails your silk? it is in a complete snarl." And so was the temper of the young wife.

"Come, Alfred, why do you not begin to read?" inquired Mrs. Frazer, raising her eyes from her work, and meeting his expressive gaze.

"I was thinking, Mary, how much happier we are this fifth year of our wedded life, than we were the first year."

"Oh! it is that pretty Lulu, and your petted boy, who have made you so much more happy."

No; lady mine, it is yourself."

"Very complimentary!" exclaimed the happy wife, and a blush, as becoming as that of girlhood, flushed over her fair forehead, and deepened the rose upon her cheek.

"Never mind," said she, "snatching the skein from the hands of the astonished husband, who had not before perceived the gathering storm. It came like a snow squall in June.

"Oh woman, in our hours of case,
Uncertain, coy and hard to please,
And varying as the shade

By the light quiv'ring aspen made," repeated Mr. Frazer. The cloud of sullenness upon the brow of the offended wife, grew more portentous. Mr. Frazer resumed the "Messen"And pray, what association of ideas led to so ger," and read-but not aloud. Once, he looked pleasant a thought?"

"I cannot unwind the whole silken skein of thought, as easily as you may the one in your hand, (by the way, allow me to hold it for you,) but you know, our first year did not pass as harmoniously as our delightful courtship had presaged!"

"Yes, yes, Alfred, I remember well, that I was sadly alarmed at the change, and became suspicious of you, believing that your poor wife was not "the first love, last love, only love;" you know I often urged you then, to confess all the delinquencies of your heart before marriage, which you steadily refused. Now, when you acknowledge that our happiness rests on a firmer basis, will you not tell me what I then so eagerly desired to know?"

over the pamphlet at Mrs. Frazer. She was tightly compressing her lips, and opening them suddenly, for amusement-had she given voice to the motion, it would have sounded very like, "obey! obey!" Mr. Frazer retreated behind his pamphlet, to hide an involuntary smile.

Mr. Frazer, a bachelor of five-and-thirty, "fell in love" with a beautiful belle, and married her, after a short courtship. "Reason and Love keep as little company together now-a-days," as in the days of Will Shakspeare. As the faults of his wife were gradually developed, during the honeyyear, the husband verily suspected that he had been somewhat hasty, and totally blind. In the course of his life, however, he had, in gaining distinction The countenance of Mr. Frazer suddenly chang- among his fellow-men, learned something of the ed; a grave, and almost stern expression, displaced art of self-government, which, of course, was in the joyousness that had a moment before reigned the way of acquiring command over others. He there. His ample, smooth forehead, upon which determined that the being whom he had taken for neither time nor sorrow had hitherto left a single "better or worse" should become "better." He wrinkle, was now contracted, and his lips were administered no flattery to increase vanity; yieldclosed firmly, for a moment; then, lifting his large ed no weak indulgence to her frivolous pursuits, dark eyes and fixing them upon the brightly beam- but taught her more by his own example than by ing face before him, he replied, "No, dearest; 'let continual lecturing, to cultivate self-respect. She by-gones, be by-gones.' You know I never could had wonderfully improved under this discipline; have loved any one as I now love you. It was not yet, alas! five years had not brought the self-willed the remembrance of any former affection that favorite of fashion, to that perfect submission to marred my happiness. The fact is, that during her lord and master, that he, mistaken man! had our first matrimonial year we had not become per- fondly imagined. I know not how many times fectly assimilated: we did not make due allowances she said over the hateful word "obey" to herself; for each other's peculiarities. Being some ten or or how many other words were upon her lips; it is

certain that her voice was not again heard, on that | daughter, she advised her to return immediately, momentous night.

dress herself for dinner, and greet her husband's friend with kindness. To this, Mrs. Frazer would not consent, saying she was really too ill to make such an effort.

The next morning too, silence as profound as that of La Trappe, reigned at the breakfast table, until the children were brought in as usual, to bid papa "good-morning." Mr. Frazer chatted with Mr. Frazer was very proud of his handsome them awhile, and then left the house, carelessly wife, and amused himself with anticipating the humming that old-fashioned Scotch air,-" There's surprise and pleasure his friend would feel, on seebeen no luck about the house-There's been no ing what a prize he had won. Severe then was luck at all." This was construed by Mrs. Frazer into a downright insult. She wept until her eyes were frightfully red and swollen. She imagined herself quite a suffering heroine-the victim of love, wounded sensibility, and-a tyrannical husband. The dinner hour came. Mrs. Frazer appeared at the table in a soiled morning-dress, her hair cupapillote, her mouth drawn into the most contemptuous expression-in short, the really beautiful wife was transformed into a fierce-faced, ugly

woman.

The husband was piqued, disappointed, vexed. Another meal, a la Trappe! As Mr. Frazer left the house, he said to the waiter, with a non-chalant air, "I shan't be home to tea."

his disappointment, to find that she had left the house-the children too-he wanted his bachelor friend to admire the little darlings.

The tetê-a-tetê dinner, in spite of much talk about old college-frolicks, and old college-friends, was a stupid affair. Mr. Frazer made many apologies for the absence of his wife-many more than the occasion called for, because he could not give the true one; the friend shrewdly suspected that something was "rotten in the state of Denmark ;" and congratulated himself upon his bachelor-freedom. He invited himself to stay to tea; not a little curious to spy out "the skeleton" in his friend's house. Poor Mr. Frazer was sadly Another fit of hysterical weeping followed, and annoyed at this, and fairly yawned during the long then, Mrs. Frazer had recourse to a sentimental stories of the college-friend about Tom So-and-Sonovel, which did not allay her nervous sensibility. and Dick Thus-and-Thus-and John Smith. He The second morning came. Poor Mrs. Frazer listened continually for the sound of the carriage, was now really suffering with head-ache, and or- as the evening passed away; but ten o'clock came; dered breakfast in her room. Alas! affairs had the friend took leave, expressing regret and wonder assumed a fearfully belligerent aspect. Mr. Fra- that Mrs. Frazer had not returned. The husband's zer did not enjoy his breakfast-somehow, a soli- chagrin was but too evident. As he afterwards tary breakfast does destroy the appetite. As he sat by the forsaken fireside, looking at the vacant turned over his dry toast, he was thinking if dig- crimson arm-chair opposite, he came to the sage nity would permit him to make acknowledgments conclusion, that he was a fool. to his offended wife, now that she was really suffering. Affection, answered " 'yes; go immediately:"—but Pride, his besetting sin, responded, no, no; I shall then lose my authority forever" and prevailed. He left the house without even seeing the children, and merely told the waiter, he should "bring a friend home to dinner."

66

Early the next morning Mr. Frazer hastened to the house of his wife's mother, to inquire if his wife were seriously ill. Grief and alarm were strongly depicted upon his countenance as he made the inquiry. "Go to her room, and ask her yourself," replied the old lady. Lulu, hearing the voice of her father, ran to him, and springing into his Greatly was Mrs. Frazer grieved and disap-arms said,-"Oh papa, come and see poor sick mampointed at this high-handed measure. She had ma; she cry, cry, all the while, for my own papa." fondly imagined, that the report of her illness would Mr. Frazer carried the little prattler to the at once melt the ice that had been gathering around apartment of his wife, and timidly, yes, bashfully the heart of her husband. She listened for his opened the door. There sat Mrs. Frazer, the very step upon the stairs-she imagined that he would impersonation of sorrow-the beautiful boy asleep bring the idolized boy as his peace-maker. No; on her lap. Mr. Frazer knelt with Lulu in his cruel man! he was gone without a word!-she arms, at her side ;-" Mary !"—" Alfred !"—burst would endure it no longer. He was going to bring simultaneously from their lips. home a friend too, who might enjoy the sight of "Let no man boast of the obedience of his wife, her humiliating, matrimonial slavery. The carriage nor make too close an inquiry into the causes of was ordered. "Nurse, make ready the children. his matrimonial happiness. It is enough, that he I am going to pass the day with my mother." The is happy;" wrote Mr. Frazer, in his private comdelighted little ones were soon fondly greeted by mon-place book. their grandmother. Mary, my child," said the kind old lady, "you are looking very miserably today-what ails you?" The whole story of the cruelty of her husband was soon told. Although the good old lady sincerely sympathized with her

"Obedience, on the part of the wife, is the law of nature and revelation," (wrote Mrs. Frazer, to a young lady who was about to assume that res ponsibility,) "there can be no settled peace and harmony, without an acknowledged head!"