nexion she had no objection; and it is what her friends entirely approved. 2. His standing in life is respectable; and they both pass along without scandal, but without much approbation of their own consciences, and without any loud applause from others; for the love of the world is the principle which predominates in their bosoms; and the world never highly praises its own votaries. 3. She is not absolutely destitute of the external appearance of religion; for she constantly attends church in the afternoon, unless she is detained by her guests; and in the morning, unless she is kept at home by a slight indisposition, or unfavourable weather, which she supposes happens more frequently on Sundays than other days, and which, it must be confessed, are several degrees less inconvenient and less unpleasant than similar causes, which prevent her from going to a party of pleasure. 4. This, however, is the end of her religion, such as it is; for, when she is at church, she does not think herself under obligations to attend to what is passing there, and to join in the worship of her Maker. She cannot, with propriety, be called a woman professing godliness; for she makes no publick profession of love to her Saviour: she does only what is customary; and she would do still less if the omission were decorous. 5. Of domestick religion there is not even a semblance. As her husband does not think proper to pray with his family, so she does not think proper to pray with her children, or to instruct them in the doctrines and duties of Christianity. On the Gospel, however, no ridicule nor contempt is cast; and twice or thrice in a year, thanks are given to God at her table; that is, when a minister of religion is one of her guests. 6. No time being consumed in devotion, much is left for the care of her house, to which she attends with worldly discretion. Her husband is industrious in acquiring wealth, and she is equally industrious in spending it in such a manner as to keep up a genteel appearance. She is prudent in managing her affairs, and suffers nothing to be wasted through thoughtlessness. In a word, she is a reasonable economist; and there is a loud call, though she is affluent, that she should be so, as her expenses are necessarily great. 7. But she is an economist, not for the indigent, but for herself; not that she may increase her means of doing good, but that she may adorn her person, and the persons of her children, with gold, and pearls, and costly array; not that she may make a feast for the poor, the mained, the lame, and the blind, but that she may make a dinner or a supper for her rich neighbours, who will bid her again. 8. Though the preparations for these expensive dining and evening parties are more irksome than the toils of the common labourer, yet she submits to them with readiness; for she loves the world, and she loves the approbation which she hopes the world will bestow on the brilliancy of her decorations, and the exquisite taste of her high-seasoned viands and delicious wines. For this reputation she foregoes the pleasure which she would feel in giving bread to the fatherless, and in kindling the cheerful fire on the hearth of the aged widow. Thus, though she has many guests at her board, yet she is not hospitable; and, though she gives much away, yet she is not charitable; for she gives to those who stand in no need of her gifts. 9. I call not this woman completely selfish; for she loves her family. She is sedulous in conferring on her daughters a polite education, and in settling them in the world as reputably as she is established herself. For her sons she is still more anxious; because the sons of the rich are too much addicted to extravagance; and she is desirous to preserve them from dissipations, which would tarnish the good name that she would have them enjoy in the world, and which, above all, would impair their fortunes. 10. But here her affection terminates. She loves nothing out of the bosom of her own family: for the poor and the wretched she has no regard. It is not strictly accurate to say, that she bestows nothing on them; because she sometimes gives in publick charities, when it would not be decent to withhold her donations; and she sometimes gives more privately, when she is warmly solicited, and when all her friends and neighbours give: but, in both cases, she concedes her alms with a cold and unwilling mind. She considers it in the same light as her husband views the taxes which he pays to the government, as a debt which must be discharged, but from which she would be glad to escape. 11. As a rational woman, however, must not be supposed to conduct herself without reason, she endeavours to find excuses for her omissions. Her first and great apology is, that she has poor relations to provide for. In this apology there is truth. Mortifying as she feels it to be, it must be confessed that she is clogged with indigent connexions, who are allowed to come to her house when she has no apprehension that they will be seen by her wealthy visitants. 12. As it would be a gross violation of decency, and what every one would condemn as monstrous, for her to permit them to famish when she is so able to relieve them, she does, indeed, bestow something on them; but she gives it sparingly, reluctantly, and haughtily. She flatters herself, however, that she has now done every thing which can with justice be demanded of her, and that other indigent persons have not a claim on her bounty. 13. Another apology is, that the poor are vicious, and do not deserve her beneficence. By their idleness and intemperance they have brought themselves to poverty. They have little regard to truth; and, though it must be allowed that their distress is not altogether imaginary, yet they are ever disposed to exaggerate their sufferings. While they are ready to devour one another, they are envious toward the rich, and the kindness of their benefactors they commonly repay with ingratitude. 14. To justify these charges she can produce many examples; and she deems that they are sufficient excuses for her want of humanity. But she forgets, in the mean while, that the Christian woman, who sincerely loves God and her neigh bour, in imitation of her heavenly Father, is kind to the evil as well as the good, to the unthankful as well as the grateful. FREEMAN. LESSON LXXXII. Elegy to Pity. 1. HAIL, lovely power! whose bosom heaves the sigh, 2. Not all the sweets Arabia's gales convey 3. Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play; 4. Come, lovely nymph, and range the mead with me, From secret snares the struggling bird to free; 6. And when the air with heat meridian glows, And nature droops beneath the conqu❜ring gleam, 6. Or turn to nobler, greater tasks thy care, 7. Teach me to sooth the helpless orphan's grief; And be the sure resource of drooping age. 8. So when the genial spring of life shall fade, LESSON LXXXIIL Lines on the Death of my much loved Infant. 1. I LAID my hands upon her brow and it was damp and cold, Her deep blue eye was glazed and fixed, the fearful tale was told; I gently pressed her little lips, I felt her parting breath, 2. I laid her little body down, the vital spark had fled; 3. Ah, could I mourn, her little heart no longer heaved with pain; That sickness could no more distress, nor fever parch again; That she now drank from that pure stream whence living fountains flow, Escaped from life's dread buffeting, its sorrows and its wo ? 4. No: though a bud of promise, thou, my bright my precious one; And though my heart had well nigh burst, when death his work had done; And though full many a weary hour thy infant smiles beguiled, I would not wish thee back again, my child, my lovely child! 5. No: to thy mother's fostering arms thou wast but lent, not given; And thou hast early found thy way into thy native heaven; LESSON LXXXIV. The Land of our Birth. 1. THERE is not a spot in this wide peopled earth, May the blessing of God Ever hallow the sod, And its valleys and hills by our children be trod. 2. Can the language of strangers, in accent unknown, Like the land of our birth, Where heroes keep guard o'er the altar and hearth! 3. How sweet is the language which taught us to blend Ever hallow the sod, And its valleys and hills by our children be trod. SOUTHERN CLARION. |