76 "THY WILL BE DONE." the watch upon deck! Then will they talk about the melting story of the cross, tell their Christian experience over, and sing the songs of Zion, until the very waves will be vocal with the praises of God. The history of the most illiterate sailor, if written by a masterly hand, would be filled with the most thrilling incidents-incidents as astonishing as romance, but far more interesting, because they would be clothed with the power of truth. Why, then, may we not hope that when religion and science shall have diffused their influence over the seas, the ocean will become an unceasing fountain of intellectual and of lawful amusement to mankind? Original. bling. She had been asked by one whom she loved "The heathen, in his blindness, "THY WILL BE DONE." Ir was the twilight hour. Within a room, whose heavy satin draperies, and costly furniture, told of wealth and luxury, knelt a fair young girl, in deep and earnest prayer. With hands slightly clasped, and tears glistening on her pale cheek, she seemed more like an inhabitant of some brighter world, than a child of earth; and though time had traced no lines of grief or care upon her brow, yet the expression now was one almost of agony. And why knelt she there—that bright beloved one, in all her dream-like beauty and innocence? Was it to give away her heart to Him No missionary efforts so ravish my soul as those who read its most secret thoughts? No; she had that are made for the salvation of seamen. The be- done it long before, and had often realized a Savior's nevolence of the Church has now put one foot upon love. But he had now called her to a severe trial of the land and one upon the sea, and is crying with a || her faith, from which nature shrunk in fear and tremloud voice, “Fear God, and give glory to him; for the hour of his judgment is come; and worship him who made the heavens and the earth, and the sea and the fountains of water." But the rivers appear to be too much neglected, as though they belonged neither to the land nor to the sea. Who will arise to bless the "fountains of water," who? O, ye daughters of Wesley, here is a work for you to do! You might form socie-She must forsake friends and country-must break all ties, powerful and unique, and as merciful as singular, which would loom forth as the redeeming angel of the waters, until Scriptural holiness should cover all our rivers. Methinks one will say, "What a singular proposal! Have we any thing to do with the rivers?" Yes. Remember that those streams will ever constitute the principal avenues of our trade and enterprise. Look now at the lovely boy in your arms, and reflect She hath gone-she hath left the home of her that his home may be upon the waters, as captain, offi- childhood-the fond parents who had watched over cer, supercargo, or trader. Before that day arrives, if her infancy, and with but one earthly arm to lean you hasten the beneficent work, your bounty will go upon, one noble heart to call her own, she hath wanbefore to prepare the way-to make the rough places dered far from the land of her birth, to the sea-girt smooth-to destroy the snags and sawyers of infidelity isles of paganism, to tell the perishing millions there and intemperance—to raise a highway for our God,|| of a Savior's love, and point them to heaven and imand sanctuaries for your offspring, until the Ohio, the mortality. Years have rolled away, amid sorrow, priMissouri, and the Mississippi, with their tributary vation and suffering, but she has never regretted the streams, in all their vast extent, shall see the salvation step she took in earlier life; and often, when its storms of the Lord. have been gathering in gloom around her-when hope seemed to have fled, and every succeeding wave threatened to overwhelm her frail and shattered bark, she hath heard, in the still small voice of Jehovah, པ་་་་ Original. THE CONSUMPTIVE. THOU'RT hastening to that land of shade, Where sleeps life's restless billow Where low the weary head is laid, Upon a dreamless pillow. Thy sunken form shows, even now, Prepare! for lo, the hour is near- the endearing ties which bound her to a happy home, and it might be, give up her young life, for Christ's sake. It was a bitter struggle; but grace triumphed over nature; and rising from her knees, with high resolve and noble resolution beaming from every line of her beautiful face, she said, in a low musical voice, "I have given up all-thy will be done!" "Fear not, I am with thee. O, be not dismayed, བ་་་་ SABAOTH. THIS word is sometimes confounded with Sabbath. Its meaning is very different. Sabaoth is a Hebrew word, and signifies hosts or armies. The expression, therefore, "Lord God of Sabaoth," is the same as Lord God of hosts. It may refer to hosts of angels, or redeemed saints, or to God's people on earth. It even applies to the stars, marshaled as an army in battle array, to execute the pleasure of the Supreme Being. Original. FEMALE INFLUENCE. 77 evil, actually does commence in every solitary instance, during the periods of infancy and childhood. Then it is that the mind and the heart are "wax to receive and marble to retain" the impressions that are made upon them. The future tree or shrub does not more certainly partake of the nature of the plant from which it springs, than is the future character of the man or woman, decidedly influenced by the education they may have received in the cradle or the nursery. We need not repeat for the twenty-thousandth time, the universally admitted principle, that "just as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined." I know that this maxim, and a multitude of others to the same purpose, have become exceedingly and almost intolerably trite. They are nevertheless true, and, as is usual with all such maxims, they are trite because they are true. And until their importance is more generally felt and acted upon, those who take a becoming interest in subjects of this nature, must continue to repeat and insist upon them, in every ON FEMALE INFLUENCE. DEAR BROTHER HAMLINE,-In my former communication under the above caption, I designed scarcely any thing more, than to offer my hearty congratulations upon your auspicious commencement of the Ladies' Repository, and to indicate the topic upon which I intended to write. And what, with the laborious duties of two entire professorships, which, for the sake of economy to the College, I have voluntarily undertaken to perform, together with other indispensable engagements, I have sometimes been tempted to fear, that what I may furnish for the Repository, will be regarded by its numerous and intelligent readers, as but little better than mere scribbling. For though I am not so vain as to proclaim with one of old, pingo in eternam-I write for immortality; yet I confess that I am, by no means, unsolicitous that what I do write may not be altogether unworthy the attention of those who may honor it with a perusal. In writing, how-variety of form, at the risk of being set down by your ever, (even under the most favorable circumstances,) as in the performance of every other duty, I am under the necessity of throwing myself upon the kind indulgence of those whom I endeavor to serve. And were I so fastidious as not to be willing that any thing I write, should meet the eye of that important character-the public-until it has been brought to such a state as perfectly to satisfy my own mind, I should be in the condition of the man, who is said to have stood on the bank of a river, waiting for it to run by, that he might be able to cross to the opposite shore. But a truce to apologies, which, in general, are none other than indirect and ill-disguised compliments to the very persons who make them. And, especially, must I endeavor to avoid the error into which a member of a certain Legislature is said to have been in the habit of falling; who, in the beginning of his speeches, would always apologize to the House for what he was going to say; and in the conclusion, would repeat and spin out a great many additional apologies for what he had said. A fellow member who felt himself annoyed by this seemingly interminable habit, observed in reply, on one occasion, that the gentleman's speeches reminded him of a kind of houses, that he had frequently seen in Virginia, which were all front-porch and back-porch. I must try to keep clear of falling into the same condemnation. lovers of flash and novelty, as intolerably prosing. Such truths as these, like those of the sacred Scriptures, (with which they are in admirable keeping,) are not to be passed over, or pressed with less frequency or earnestness, because the people may happen to be tired of hearing them. It is the solemn and imperative duty of every friend of humanity, to persevere in the promulgation and enforcement of them, whether the people will hear, or whether they will forbear. We repeat, therefore, that the education which we receive during our infancy and childhood, is of vital importance to our future prosperity and happiness. And it is equally indisputable, that female influence, in almost every conceivable case, greatly predominates in the impartation of that education, of whatever character it may be. And, alas! how injurious, and yet how common is the mistake, that very slender qualifications (of an intellectual and moral kind) will suffice to meet all the wants of our nature, during those interesting and critical portions of our existence. Ladies, who would not permit a bungler to manufacture for them, the most trivial article of wearing apparel, we are sorry to say, are not unfrequently willing to surrender the entire charge of their children, into the hands of those, who are but little else than a compound of ignorance, coarseness, passion and vulgarity. And no marvel, if in the hands of such persons, they acquire a viciousness of mind, of manners and of morals, which the most In pursuing the subject which I have selected to assiduous attentions of their parents, and the most lawrite upon, it may be well, for the sake of something borious efforts of their subsequent instructors, are altolike method, to notice the effects of female influence in the formation and modification of the human character, have been accustomed to the education of youth, know gether insufficient to eradicate. Those who for years, during the several successive periods of infancy, childhood, youth, and mature age; intending in all that I a little of what we are now saying, from woful experimay offer, to produce, if possible, an increasing convic- cles in the transformation of such children, these very And because they do not sometimes work miration of the vast importance of cultivating, to the great-parents, whose indiscretions in the early training of est practicable extent, the intellectual powers, the moral them, have thrown insurmountable obstacles in their faculties, and the religious sensibilities of that interest-way, are ready to charge them with being impudent ing portion of society. Education, in its most enlarged and appropriate sense, not only should commence; but, either for good or for ence. pretenders in their profession. Let parents do their duty to their children at home, and then if teachers do not succeed in improving their minds, and preserving 78 FEMALE INFLUENCE. their morals, let them be held to a rigid responsibility, and let them be banished from the stations, which they so unworthily fill. But of those parents, who do not abandon their children into other and manifestly incompetent hands, it is not every one that has intelligence and wisdom to adopt, and firmness and patience to pursue, such a course as will be most conducive to the happiness of their offspring. Some of the most profound principles appertaining to the philosophy of the human mind, may be, and indeed should be brought to bear, in the performance of this task; whether these principles be acquired in the schools or elsewhere. But in nothing whatever is there more of quackery displayed than in this department of human duty. If it is one of the most prominent and distinguishing traits of empiricism, to contend that all diseases may be cured by the same remedy, and by the same mode of treatment, we may find an abundance of it among parents, in the management of their children. With many of them, the great specific for all diseases, whether of the mind or of the heart, is the rod. And you will generally find, that those who have the least ability to reason with their children, and the least control over their own passions, are the very persons that apply this wonderful remedy, the most frequently, severely, and indiscriminately. And while they are applying it, they show by their infuriated manner, that they are as much in need of this kind of discipline, to say the least of it, as the child is. Their manner is so violent, outrageous and revolting, that the sight it presents to the spectator is as grossly inconsistent, as would be that of Satan reproving sin. In a word, it is obvious to every one who is compelled to witness the unpleasant and humiliating scene, that the child, whatever its fault may have been, "is more sinned against, than sinning." The rod, the rod! this is the potent and magical instrument, which, with such persons, severs the Gordian knot of every difficulty. I do not pretend to say, that there are no occasions on which the rod should ever be used. Such an assertion would be alike contradictory to reason and to Scripture. But a single chastisement suitably timed, and administered with a proper temper, and persevered in until the child's rebellious disposition is subdued, is worth a thousand administered in the manner above mentioned. Worth a thousand such did I say? Nay, the oftener such chastisements are administered, the more valueless, and the more pernicious they become. Every successive flagellation of this sort, only hardens and imbrutes the mind and moral feelings of the child, and makes it the more necessary to increase the dose, when it is resorted to again. The child is soon, and very properly impressed with a conviction that it is chastised as much, or more to gratify the passions of the parent, than to correct its own faults; and the consequence is, that it renders obedience, (if indeed it obeys at all,) not from motives of affection and respect, but from a principle of servile and self-degrading fear. And where this is the case, the child is gone almost beyond the hope of redemption. On the other hand, there are many parents, and especially mothers, who unfortunately err by going to the opposite extreme. Whatever may be the conduct of the child, they are all smiles, indulgence and caresses. They are afraid, forsooth, that they will cramp its budding genius, and break its high and chivalrous spirit, unless they allow it to have its own way. And with shame be it spoken, there are not a few who witness in their children, exhibitions of pride, profanity, insolence and cruelty, not only without any symptoms of regret or disapprobation, but with manifest marks of pleasure, and sometimes even of exultation; believing or affecting to believe, that such things are hopeful indications of superior parts, and of future distinction in the world. And what is worse, there are some, who are so utterly reckless of what is due to themselves and their children, as to tolerate, and, indirectly at least, applaud these things when practiced by their children towards themselves. Of such children it may be truly said, that, while young, "they tread upon their parents' toes, but when they become older they will tread upon their hearts." I have known some of these promising sprouts myself, and I know some now, who, as fast as idleness, dissipation and profanity can do so, are bringing down the gray hairs of their too-indulgent parents, with sorrow to the grave. So certain, and so deplorable is the retribution, by which such mistaken indulgence is followed even in this world, that methinks it ought to be sufficient to induce every mother to forego the exercise of it, whatever temporary sacrifice of feeling it may cost. And conscious I am that every mother, whose own mind and heart have been properly cultivated, and who possesses that moral courage, which becomes every enlightened rational being, and who has the interest and happiness of her child really at heart, will repudiate such a course as I have mentioned, and steadily, temperately, and affectionately pursue such a line of conduct, as will best promote the reputation and permanent welfare of her child, whether, for the time being, it may be most agreeable to its feelings or not. Among the many and powerful motives that should urge mothers to take such a course as this, it is by no means one of the least, that the very children upon whom such wholesome restraints are imposed, in the midst of their waywardness, will never cease to bless them for it in after life. And when the mortal remains of such mothers are reposing beneath the clods of the valley, and their spirits are basking in the beatitudes of another and a better world, these very children will ofttimes moisten their graves with tears of gratitude, at the recollection of those maternal admonitions and restraints, which would not permit them to gratify their childish propensities and passions, at the expense of their present peace, and perhaps their eternal salvation. How many are there in the world, and possibly of those who may read these lines, who, with the deepest emotions of filial regard, can rise up and testify, that, under God, they owe all that they are, and all that they hope to be, both in this world and in that which is to come, to the agency and influence of such mothers as those, LIFE. Original. BY H. J. COX. "Our life, as a stream, Glides swiftly away." 79 Dost thou see the small rivulet, gathered from the drippings of yonder rock, and gliding down the moun whose characters I have feebly attempted to describe! The writer of this article is acquainted with one, at least, who is devoutly thankful for such a mother. One who feels himself constrained to acknowledge, and on all suitable occasions, sincerely delights to acknowledge, that to the instrumentality of her wholesome instructions and timely restraints, he is indebted for having escaped many of the snares and temptations, into which others have unhappily fallen; for any little good that|| tain side—now increasing in its velocity, and bounding he may have been the means of doing to his fellow- over rocks, and plunging down the abyss, and hurrying men; and above all, for the prospect which he is some- along with an impetuosity little characteristic of its times permitted to enjoy, of ere long associating with beginnings? Now it sweeps by with an irresistible her, and with other departed relatives and friends, in force, hastening to join itself to the more gigantic that house not made with hands eternal in the heavens. stream. See! it dashes along as if in haste to be swalFor the want of time, I must beg you to excuse me lowed up. Thus it is with life. It commences with for breaking off at this stage of my subject, by sub-gay, but placid movements. In the bud of existence, scribing myself, as ever, most truly and affectionately, the stream glides softly; but in time the tide of thought your fellow laborer, in the great cause of human improvement and happiness, J. S. TOMLINSON. Augusta College, February, 1841. --་09 ་་་་ Original. LOVE AND HOPE. IN dreams I have gone to a sunnier land, and passion rises, till it takes the excited movement of the rushing cataract. Life in its earlier periods, is like the rivulet already described. Manhood is the majestic river, moving on with a concourse of waters, which keep a steady flow. Now 'tis checked by some obstruction, until, by accumulation, it bursts, and hurries on. Again it meanders silently along the vale, then rushes down a frightful precipice, and forming Where the skies are more blue and the breezes more whirlpools, threatens destruction to all. bland, Where the flowers are emblems of hope and of love, But I found there, of sorrow, an emblem more true, Then trust not in hope-it will shade thee in gloom; Life itself is a weary and desolate way, If Heaven should deny us love's warm sunny ray- Such is human life. Youth gains maturity, and, for awhile, moves among the great mass, "unknowing and unknown,"-his course bright in the prospects of the future. Anon he meets with difficulties, that seem about to ingulf him in ruin, until, by mighty efforts, and by the interposition of Providence, he rises above them, and again his course is smooth and calm. The stream moves on, until it mingles its waters with the ocean. Thus the stream of time bears us along, till the cheek is blanched, the hand palsied, the voice tremulous, the ear heavy, and the evening of life passes away like the beginning, softly and silently, till, like the stream moving on to its final destination, it ceases, and is lost in the ocean of eternity. "Life, like an ever-rolling stream, 1446 Original. ACROSTIC FOR AN ALBUM. MAY the flowers her hand has watered, Near her window yield perfume—in her arbor deck the May the vine her hand has cultured, Never fade ye lovely flowers-languish not thou lovely Rose of Sharon-lovelier Vine, H. THOUGHT is the foundation of all intellectual excellence. What is it that constitutes darkness in the individual or the age? The absence of thought-solid thought. What is it that has handed down innumerable errors from generation to generation? The want of thought. What was it that entombed the world's mind for ages? The world's fearful experiment to dispense with thought. have variety, but that variety must consist of the various phases which the favorite thought assumes in pursuing its endless revolutions. Perhaps most of you may be acquainted with living examples. As it would be manifestly improper for me to allude to such, I will advert to the well authenticated story of an ecclesiastic of a former age, whose mind was so thoroughly pre-occupied with certain doctrines, that he often preached election, reprobation, and foreordination from the text, "Parthians, Medes, and Elamites." It is a beautiful hypothesis of a school of philoso What was it that burst the chains of religious bon-phy, that there is a regular gradation among created dage, and gave to Europe moral freedom? What is it beings, from the tallest archangel to the minutest particle of inanimate matter. As the polypus serves to that has spread before our vision so many natural truths-that has opened so wide the path of discov-connect the world animated with the world inanimate, so this mind may be serviceable as a connecting link ery-has crowded it with so many anxious inquirers, between soul irrational and spirit rational. and is preparing the way for the general education of the human race? Thought. And yet, it may be doubted whether men, even in the most enlightened portions of the world, do not act more from authority than from reason. Man's natural indolence induces him to adopt the opinions of others, rather than form opinions for himself. He would rather read or write, look or hear, talk or laugh, than think. Perhaps no one has ever acquired a habit of reasoning without having tried a variety of expedients to dispense with it; while thousands forego the pleasure of original thought, because they will not pay the price. Like sheep, they follow a leader, and have no other reason for being gregarious, than "ipse dixit-ita est." May I not hope, therefore, gentle readers, that an hour of your time may not be unprofitably spent in pondering a few remarks on close thought? As the theme is a term, and not a proposition, it will || be necessary to prescribe some limits, in order to avoid discursive remarks. I propose, therefore, to inquire, first, what close thought implies; and, second, what are some of the subterfuges of those who avoid it. Such a mind is like the polypus in more than one respect. It is said of that parasite, that, deriving nourishment from the moisture of the atmosphere, it flourishes as well on the sea-washed rock, as on the verdant vale-having no organism-but living by absorption, it may be turned inside out, without suffering injury or inconvenience; and being unique, it may be cut into sections, and each part retain its beauty and perfection. So with such a mind-it is the same in the most barren as in the most fertile region of conception; and all its delicate and complicated machinery being drawn into a simple hollow canal-increasing by no elaborate processes of secretion and digestion-but by simple absorption from the inner and outer surfaces, it might be indefinitely divided, if mind were divisible, and each part possess all the loveliness and perfection of the primordial being. I say not that such a mind must necessarily be weak-it may be strong, but it cannot be healthy-its condition is that of mono-mania. It is as pitiable an anomoly in the moral world, as an animal with one muscle and capable only of flexion and extension, would be in the natural world. By unity of thought I mean that a man should have 1st. It implies unity of thought. I do not suppose that a man should have but one thought, or one favor-but one thought at a time. Unity of effort is essential ite thought, or one particular series of thoughts. There is a man of one idea. He seems fitted to revolve but one thought. In silence and in uproar, in sunshine and in shade-whether he sings or prays, laughs or cries, reads or writes, flies or triumphs-at morn, at noon, at dewy eve, and "even in visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man," his favorite conception occupies all his faculties. He hears it in running brooks, reads it in beauteous vales, sees it in every thing. He treats men, books, and things, as did Lord Peter in the "Tale of a Tub," his father's will, who, determined to find the word "shoulder knots," picked it out letter by letter, and at last substituted C for K in the orthography. His mind, like the touch of the fabled Midas, which turned every thing into gold, transmutes all the thoughts with which it meets, into the one golden idea. Such a mind may to vigorous action. The human mind, in its best estate, is limited. The triumphs of the proudest human soul are few and humble. Physiologists have said that no two general specific diseases can occupy the same system at the same time. If a stronger malady assail the body pre-occupied by a weaker, the besieged may retire from its fortress, and give place to the besieger; the latter having run its course, may retire, and the former may return and finish its career. Upon this principle the dreaded practice of exciting ptyalism, in febrile affections, is founded-the physician expecting that, by inducing the mercurial fever, he will overcome the more dreaded intermittent or remittent. We leave to others the settlement of the physiological principle and the practice founded upon it. Our purpose is to illustrate the physiological law that the mind cannot be occupied with two important |