this room alone, but in its furniture and general aspect, that she reads the cheering truth of a superintending care having been exercised over all it contains, in strict reference to herself, not merely as an honored guest, but as a lover of this or that small article of comfort or convenience, which in the world of comparative strangers among whom she has been living, she has seldom thought it worth her while to stipulate for, and still less frequently has had referred to her choice. Now, it is evident that the mistress of the house herself must have been here. With her own hand she must have placed upon the table the favorite toilet-cushion, worked by a friend who was alike dear to herself and her guest. With her own hand she must have selected the snow-white linen, and laid out, not in conspicuous obtrusiveness, a few volumes calculated for the hours of silent meditation, when her friend shall be alone. It is impossible that the services of the most faithful domestic should be able to convey half the heartfelt meaning indicated by these few familiar acts, so richly worth their cost. It is not from the circumstance of having all our wants supplied, that the most lively satisfaction is derived; it is from the cheering fact that we ourselves, in our individual capacity, have been the object of so much faithful recollection and untiring love. Instead therefore of regarding it as a subject for murmuring and complaint, that her means of personal indulgence do not supply her with a greater number of domestics, the true English woman ought rather to esteem it a privilege that her station in life is such as to place her in the way of imparting this rational and refined enjoyment. We cannot imagine the first day of hospitable welcome complete without our visitor being introduced to that concatenation of comforts an early tea. On descending from her chamber, then, she finds all things in readiness for this grateful and refreshing meal. Her attention is not distracted by apologies for what is not there, but what, on such occasions, frequently might have been, at the cost of half the effort required for an elaborate excuse. As if the fairy order had been at work, the table is spread with all things most agreeable after weary travel; and the guest, instead of being pressed to eat with such assiduity that she begins to think her visit has no other object, is only interrupted by kind inquiries relating to home associations, and is beguiled into a prolongation of her meal, by being drawn out into a detail of the events of her journey. As the evening passes on, their conversation becomes more intimate, and while it deepens in interest, that full expansion of the soul takes place, under which, whatever English women may be in the superficial intercourse of polished life, I have no scruple in saying, that as fireside companions, they are the most delightful upon earth. There are such vivid imaginings, and such touches of native humor, such deep well-springs of feeling, beyond their placid exterior; that when they dare to come forth, and throw themselves upon the charity or affection of their hearers, one is beguiled into a fascination the more intense, because it combines originality of thought with gentle manners, and in a peculiar and forcible way invests the cherished recollections of the past, with the fresh warm coloring of the present hour. It is not amidst congregated masses of society, that the true English woman can exhibit her native powers of conversation. It It is when two are met together, with perhaps a husband or a brother for a third, and the midnight hour steals on, and yet they take no note of time, for they are opening out their separate store of treasures from the deep of memory, sharing them with each other, and blending all with such bright anticipations of the future, as none but a woman's imagination can enjoy, with faith in their reality. Or, perhaps, they are consulting upon some difficult point of duty, or sympathizing with each other in affliction; and then, where shall we look but to the English woman for the patient listener, the faithful counsellor, the stanch supporter of each virtuous purpose, the keen discerner in points of doubtful merit, and the untiring comforter in every is not sufficiently indicated by saying she is hour of need. It would be too tedious, and might to some appear too trifling, were I to trace out the conduct of the being here described, through | more of the familiar scenes presented by domestic life. It may also be thought by some who know little of women in this capacity, that I am drawing merely from imagination; others will know that my coloring is truethat human life, in some of its obscurest passages, has secrets of moral excellence in the female character, presenting objects as lovely as ever were revealed to the poet's faney. Alas! for those whose memory alone supplies them with the materials for this picture who now can only feel that "such things were." The charge of trifling is one I should be sorry to incur in writing on a subject so serious as the domestic morals of women; yet how to enter into a detail sufficiently minnte without, I confess I do not clearly see. I must, therefore, again pause, and ask the reader, in my own defence, of what the ordinary life of a woman of the middle class of society is composed, but a mass of trifles, out of which arises the happiness or the misery of a numerous and important portion of the human race? I would also ask, What is a woman who despises trifles? She may possibly enjoy, with undisputed dignity, a niche in the temple of fame, but she ought never to descend from her marble pedestal, to mingle with the social circle around the living blaze of the domestic hearth. Those quiet, unobtrusive virtues, which are ever the most lovely in the female character, must necessarily be the most difficult to define. They are so much more felt than seen-so much better understood than described-that to give them a name would be impossible, and even to portray them in an ideal picture might not perhaps convey to the mind of the beholder any adequate idea of their importance. But, as in painting a finished picture, the skill of the artist is not only required in the general outline, but is equally requisite in the fillingup, so the perfection of the female character possessed of every virtue, unless we point out the individual instances upon which those virtues are brought to bear; and the more minute and delicate their aspect, if they are but frequently presented to our notice, the stronger is our conviction that virtuous principle is the ground-work of the whole. With regard to the particular instance already described, the case may perhaps be more clearly illustrated by adding a picture of an opposite description, in order to ascertain in what particular points the two cases differ. For this purpose, we will imagine a woman distinguished by no extreme of character, receiving her guest under precisely the same circumstances as the one already described. In this case, the visitor is permitted to see that her hostess has reluctantly laid down her book at the latest possible period of time which politeness would allow; or, after her guest has remained twenty minutes in a vacant, and by no means inviting parlor, she comes toiling up from the kitchen, with a countenance that makes it dreadful to be adding to her daily fatigues by placing one's self at her table; and she answers the usual inquiries of her friend, as to her state of health, with a minute detail of the various phenomena of a headache with which she has that morning been attacked. The one domestic is then called up-and wo betide that family, whose daily services, unpractised by its individual members towards each other, all emanate from one domestic. The one domestic then is ordered, in the hearing of the guest, to take all the luggage up stairs, to bring hot water, towels, soapto turn the carpets-run for the best lookingglass-and see that tea is ready by the time the friend comes down. The party then ascend, accompanied by the panting servant, into a room, upon which no kind of care has been bestowed. It may possibly be neat-so neat that the guest supposes it never has been, and is not yet intended to be, used. Yes, every thing is in its place; but a general blank pervades the whole, and it is not the least of the disappointments experienced by our guest, that she finds no water to refresh her aching temples. The mistress of the house is angry at this neglect, and rings the bell. The servant ascends from the kitchen to the highest room, to learn that she must go down again, and return, before half the catalogue of her faults has been told. On such errands as this, she is employed until the party descend to the parlor, where the bell is again rung more imperatively, and the tea is ordered to be brought instanter. In the mean time, the fire has dwindled to the lowest bar. The mistress looks for coals, but the usual receptacle is empty. She feels as if there were a conspiracy against her. There is there can be no one to blame but the servant; and thus her chagrin is alleviated by complaints against servants in general, and her own in particular. With these complaints, and often-repeated apologies, the time is occupied until the appearance of the long-expected meal, when the guest is pressed to partake of a repast not sweetened by the comments of her hostess, or the harassed and forlorn appearance of an over-worked domestic. The mistress of this house may all the while be glad to see her guest, and may really regard her as an intimate and valued friend; but never having made it an object to practise the domestic virtue of making others happy, she knows not how to convey any better idea of a welcome than by words. She, therefore, sets deliberately to work to describe how happy she esteems herself in receiving so dear a friend-wishes some third party were at home-hopes to be able to amuse her tells of the parties she has engaged for each successive evening-brings out a pile of engravings-fears her guest is weary-and lastly, at a very early hour, rings for the chamber-candlesticks, presuming that her visitor would like to retire. It is needless to observe that the generality of visitors do retire upon this hint; and it is equally needless to add, that the individual here described fails to exhibit the character of the true English woman, whose peculiar charm is that of diffusing happiness, without appearing conspicuously as the agent in its diffusion. It is from the unseen, but active principle of disinterested love, ever working at her heart, that she enters, with a perception as delicate as might be supposed to belong to a ministering angel, into the peculiar feelings and tones of character influencing those around her, applying the magical key of sympathy to all they suffer or enjoy, to all they fear or hope, until she becomes identified as it were with their very being, blends her own existence with theirs, and makes her society essential to their highest earthly enjoyment. If a heightened degree of earthly enjoyment were all we could expect to obtain, by this line of conduct, I should still be disposed to think the effect produced would be richly worth our pains. But I must again repeat, that the great aim of a Christian woman will always be, so to make others happy, that their feelings shall be attuned to the reception of better thoughts than those which relate to mere personal enjoyment-so to make others happy, as to win them over to a full perception of the loveliness of those Christian virtues, which her own life and conduct consistently show forth. CHAPTER VIII. DOMESTIC HABITS-CONSIDERATON AND KINDNESS. THE Subject of consideration might be continued to almost any extent, since it seems either to comprehend, or to be closely connected with, all that is morally excellent in woman. We shall, however, confine our attention to only a few more of those important branches in which this fertile theme demands our serious thought-towards those who are beneath us in pecuniary circumstances, and towards those with whom we are associated in the nearest domestic relations. The young and inexperienced having never themselves tasted the cup of adversity, are, in a great measure, excusable for not knowing how to treat the morbid and susceptible feelings, which the fact of having drank deeply of that cup often produces; nor is it easy to communicate to their minds any idea of the extreme of suffering to which this tone of feeling may extend. Much may be done, however, by cultivating habits of consideration, by endeavoring sometimes to identify themselves with those who suffer, by asking how it would be with them if their parents had fallen below what, by the world, is called respectability—if they were obliged to seek the means of maintaining themselves if they were admitted into families by sufferance, and only on condition that they should remain until another home could be found, in which their own hands might minister to their necessities. There is no class of beings whose circumstances altogether are more calculated to call forth our tenderest sympathies, than those delicate females whose fireside comforts are broken up by the adverse turn of their pecuniary affairs, and who are consequently sent forth to share the lot of families unknown to them, and to throw themselves upon the kindness and consideration of strangers. It is in cases of this kind, especially, that we see the importance of having cultivated the moral faculties, of having instilled into the mind those sound principles of integrity, usefulness, and moral responsibility, which, in proportion as they become the foundation of our familiar and daily conduct, necessarily invest every act of duty with a cheerfulness which cannot fail to be acceptable in the sight of that merciful Creator, who alone is capable of transforming what is irksome or repulsive to the natural feelings, into sources of gratitude and delight. society, should be counteracted by the strenuous efforts of the well-wishers of their country; and high time it is, that all our energies should be roused, not by any means to retard the progress of intellect, but to force along with it the growth of sound principles, and the increase of moral power. Persons who are reduced in their pecuniary circumstances are generally judged of as we judge our servants, and those who are born to humble means; they are required to have no faults, and the public cry is especially directed against them, if they evince the least symptom of pride. Indeed, so great is our abhorrence of this particular fault, that we often make even a slight evidence of its existence a plea for the discontinuance of our bounty and our favor. We forget that the pride of the individuals in question has perhaps been ministered to throughout the whole of their former lives, and that they, no more than we, can renounce their soul-besetting sins, as they give up the luxuries they are no longer able to procure. We forget, also, that their circumstances are calculated, in an especial manner, to rouse the lurking evil, even had it never been conspicuous in their characters before. The man who floats safely upon the stream of worldly prosperity, with his early companions a little lower than himself, can afford to be gracious and conciliating; but when he begins to sink, and feels the same companions struggling to float past him, and finally leaving him to contend with his difficulties, his feelings towards them undergo a total change: he accounts himself an injured man, and becomes a prey to envy, disappointment, and wounded pride. The world's contumely, more grievous than his actual privations, assails his peace of mind; he learns to look for unkindness, and to expect The frequent occurrence of such changes it, even where it does not exist. In the in the pecuniary affairs of English families, stranger's eye he reads contempt and negas render it necessary for the female mem- lect; he lives, as it were, surrounded by bers to be thus circumstanced is, therefore, daggers-bleeding at every pore, and woundone among the many reasons, why the effects ed by every thing with which he comes in of that false refinement which is gradually contact. "How absurd!" is the exclamaincreasing among the female part of English tion we hear from the prosperous and incon siderate-"how worse than absurd for a man to be feeling in this manner, because he has lost a few hundreds!" And yet men do feel to such a degree, that nothing but religion can enable them to bear such vicissitudes with calmness and resignation. And even when supported by religion, it has pleased our heavenly Father to accompany these dispensations of his providence, with a degree of suffering to which no human mind is insensible. culties appear on every hand to vanish as soon as they appear; we even persuade ourselves that a sort of merit attaches to our doing all in our power to accommodate the son of so distinguished a person. The poor widow, perhaps our relative, sends her son to town to seek a situation, and we hear of his coming. We knew his mother in more prosperous days. She was a worthy woman then, but her husband died insolvent, and the family necessarily fell away from what they had been. It cannot be at all incumbent upon us to ask such young men as these to our houses. They might come in shoals. Our domestic comfort would be sacrificed, and it is the duty of every one to maintain the peace and order of their own household. Thus the widow's son is allowed to wander up and down the streets, to resort to expensive lodging-houses, and to purchase, with the pittance provided by his mother from her slender means, that accommodation which a little Christian hospitality might have spared him. It is generally regarded as the extreme of benevolence, if, in our intercourse with such persons, we treat them exactly as we did in more prosperous days; and few there are who can at all times withhold expressions equivalent to these: "How unreasonable it is to expect so much attention now! It is not likely we can ask that family to meet our friends; we should be willing still to notice them in a private way, if they would but be more grateful-more considerate." And thus they are allowed to pass away from our social gatherings, to be called upon perhaps occasionally at their own humble abodes, but by no means to be invited in return, lest some of our wealthier friends should detect us in the act of performing the offices of hospitality to a person in a threadbare coat. And yet this family may have done nothing worse than thousands are doing every day-prentices, and than even our richest and dearest friends are doing-and we may know it all the while. It sickens the heart to think of these things, and to reflect how far-how very far, even the good and the kind, fall short of that beautiful and heart-touching injunction of our blessed Saviour, "When thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind." The wealthy and distinguished man, with whom we have but a slight acquaintance, sends his son into our neighborhood on business or pleasure. We hear of his coming, and persuade ourselves it is but respectful to invite him to be our guest. It is at the expense of our domestic comfort that we entertain him-but that is nothing. Diffi We complain that our streets are thronged on the Sabbath-day with troops of idle young men and women, who afford a painful spectacle to those who pass them on their way to public worship. How many of these—apassistants in business-are actually driven into the streets from very want of any thing like a hospitable or social home! I am by no means prepared to say, how far true Christian benevolence, acted out towards this class of the community, would lead us to give up our domestic comfort for their sakes, and for the sake of preserving them from harm; but I do know it would lead us to adopt a very different treatment of them, from that which generally prevails; and I consider also, that these duties rest especially with women. It is not easy for a man who has to fill the office of master to a number of apprentices and assistants during the hours of business, to unbend before them at his own fireside. But a considerate and high-principled wo |