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c3 to grovel tells to an amazing and incalcu- all our coveted possessions, so miserably lable extent.

poor.

It is difficult to speak strongly on these subjects, yet with that kindness and respect which I feel that my country women deserve, and deserve especially from me. But when I assert again that it is not intention which is in fault, so much as a certain set of mistaken views which more or less affect us all, I would fondly hope I might obtain their for

It is far from my wish to write on this subject as one who has neither knowledge nor feeling of what wives in general have to struggle with, in the way of depressing or degrading circumstances. I know that the occupations of a household, by reminding us perpetually of what is material, have a strong tendency to occupy the mind with that alone. I know that under wasted health, or weari-giveness for being more than commonly earnness, or disappointment, to be urged to struggle after what is high, sounds like a mockery to the human heart. And I know too that there are trials in the lot of woman, almost sufficient of themselves to quench the very life within her soul, and to extinguish there the power to hope for any thing before the grave. I know that the spirit may be harassed-wounded-broken; but I am yet to learn, that under any circumstances we are justified in giving all things up.

I should rather reason thus-that having striven after excellence in every department, we have so multiplied our resources, that something always must be left; so that if nothing in the shape of positive happiness could ever reach us more, we should still be capable of adding to the happiness of others.

But the most powerful and widely prevailing cause of that moral and intellectual degradation—that downward tendency of the mind, and that grovelling of the spirit among material things, which is so much to be lamented over in the wives of the present day, arises clearly and unquestionably out of the false estimate so universally formed of what is most to be desired-nay, of what is absolutely essential to existence. It is this vain and fruitless ambition with regard to worldly things, in which we are all more or less engaged, that wears down our energies, and wearies out our hopes. It is the disappointment, the perplexity, the harass of this long struggle, which leaves us so spiritless and worn. It is the emptiness of our success when the highest worldly wish has been attained, which makes us, in the midst of

est in so important a cause. In this hope I appeal to their own hearts, whether the daily conflict they are many of them enduring is not in reality after that which "perisheth in the using;" whether it ever brings them a reward at all commensurate with what it costs; and whether it is not in itself a weariness to the very soul. I appeal to society at large, whether the importance we many of us attach to appearing well before the world, in other words, to dressing and living in a certain style, has not irritated more tempers, destroyed more peace, occasioned more disputes, broken more spirits, crossed more love, hindered more improvement, and caused more spiritual declension, than any other single cause which could be named. And what has it done to throw into the opposite scale? Encouraged one kind of manufactory to the disadvantage of another, changed our fashions, excited our vanity, furnished our houses, decked our persons-and what then? Sent us forth into society envied and envying one another, and disseminating wherever we might go, low thoughts, disparaging allusions, and uncharitable feelings, all arising out of the very rivalry and competition of which this fruitless ambition was the source.

Let us look at one channel only among the many thousands through which it operates to the destruction of human happiness, and the disunion of natural ties. It is no poet's fable, and I speak it reverently, believing what I speak, when I say, that the love which grows up between two young people who expect to spend their lives together, is of every earthly feeling that which most endears to us all which is most excellent in itself, most beauti

ful in the creation, and most beneficent in the dispensations of an all-wise and eternal God. Who then would quench this feeling, or lower its exercise, or make it a mere slave to wait upon the customs of the world? The voice of humanity exclaims against so base, so foolish a perversion of our nature. Youth exclaims against it, as well it may. Society -the world exclaims. The world? No, that can never be. It is the world whose unrelenting voice demands this sacrificethe world before whose artificial glare the star of love must hide its purer ray.

It is because the world is the great altar upon which the hearts of multitudes are laid, that the shrine of domestic happiness so often is profaned by broken vows-vows broken in the spirit, and therefore the mere symbols of a love, without its sweetness or its life. It is because the spirit of the world demands that we should love and serve the mammon of unrighteousness, that hearts are bought and sold, and youth is wedded to old age, and every mockery of feeling which imagination can conceive, is perpetrated under the grave name of prudence. I have myself advocated prudence, and I have urged the necessity of waiting for what are popularly considered as sufficient means. Yet this has been chiefly in conformity with the universal system we acknowledge, of "regarding lower things." I did not, and I never shall, believe the system is a right one in itself; but until our views are more enlightened, and our principles are strong enough to support us in the effort, it would be worse than folly to advise that individuals here and there should overstep the bounds of prudence as they are now laid down, not knowing what they did.

The new order of things which I would advocate must be a general one, brought about by simultaneous views, and feelings, and determinations. There will then be no world to fear, for we shall constitute ourselves a world, in which lower things will no longer be regarded, except as such-a world in which the warmest feelings of the heart will no longer be considered as bearing any com

parison, in value, with the cold formalities of artificial life-a world in which what we wear, and what we use, shall no longer be esteemed as more important than what we do—a world in which people shall be judged of by what they are, and not by what they possess a world in which what is costly and brilliant in ornament, shall give place to that which is excellent in character, and sterling in value.

And when shall this bright epoch arrive?— this dawning of better hopes-this day of promise for our country, and our homes? It will arrive when the wives of England shall hold themselves above their circumstances; and, estimating that most highly which is really high, shall understand how principle is the basis of all good; and having subjected these principles to the word of God, and tried them by the only test which is safe and true, they may then adorn the superstructure by all which the purest taste and the most chastened feeling can suggest.

In adopting the motto of one of the most amiable and accomplished of female sovereigns, we must not forget that hers was the pursuit of excellence of almost every kind; in her studies, her attainments, and in all those graces of mind and person which adorn a court. Nor do I see why the raising of our highest admiration to that which is highest in itself, should in any respect interfere with our desire after excellence in general.

It is a melancholy thought, when marriage has united the destiny of two human beings for this life at least, that one of them should grow indifferent to those qualities of mind and person which formed the chief attraction to the other. It is a melancholy thought, that when a wife has taken upon herself the duties which belong to the mistress of a family, she should be willing to lose those charms which constitute the loveliness of woman. It is a melancholy thought, that because she has become a useful, she must cease to be an intellectual, being. But it cannot-it must not be. The very thought is one of treason against the love and the happiness of married life; for what is there among all the em

bellishments of female character, which this love cannot legitimately appropriate, and this happiness enhance and improve?

In no other situation in life can woman find so appropriate a sphere for the exercise of every grace, and the display of every charm, as in the centre of her home-enjoyments; yet here, how often do we find that she permits all the poetry of her mind to be extinguished, and after that the beautiful too often fades away. Life may remain the same to her in all its tangible realities; but as the sunshine passes from the landscape, so the light which gives freshness and vividness to every object, is gone forever.

gence become the bane of man's existence, and her own?

And is it well that men, whose daily avocations necessarily call into service, as one of their great principles of action, a worldly and a selfish spirit—is it right that they should be urged, nay, goaded on, in the perpetual race of personal and family aggrandizement, by those who profess to love them, and who, consequently, ought to seek their ultimate and real good? May we not rather leave to them the whole adjustment of these worldly matters? It is their business, and their duty, to find a place among their fellow-men, to establish a footing in society, and to maintain it by all just and honorable means. This is no care of woman's. Her appropriate part is to adorn that station wherever it may be, by a contented mind, an enlightened intellect, a chastened spirit, and an exemplary life.

I have dwelt much upon the influence of woman in social and domestic life, and in her married state she will find that influence extending almost on every hand. What, then, will be her situation, without the aid of personal religion, to give a right direction to its operations upon other minds? But what will be her situation altogether without this aid?

The thought is too appalling.

"A boat sent out to sail alone

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It is said she has actual and pressing cares, which absorb her attention, to the exclusion of other, and especially of higher, thoughts. But here again is her mistake. It is not in woman's nature to be degraded or brought down by care, provided only the objects of her solicitude are worthy in themselves, or such as call forth feelings worthy of being indulged. The care-the love-the brooding tenderness of a fond mother or a faithful wife-when, I would ask, was woman found the worse for these? No. It is the element in which she lives, to care for those she loves. It is in this element that all her virtues rise and shine; while her whole character assumes a higher and more spiritual excellence. We talk of altered circumstances, and personal privations, but we libel the true heart of woman when we think it cannot stand the shock of such extremes as these. No, these are not the foes she fears; and it is an insult to her understanding, when society persuades | her that she does fear them. Within her heart of hearts she has a nobler conviction, that her husband's happiness, and her own integrity and truth, are more to her than all the riches in the world. Why then, with these convictions, and with that strong capabilities of married life, without religion to dibility which constitutes her dower, of rising above the tide of circumstance, and living apart from worldly things in the higher world of her affections-why will woman stoop to be the slave of habit, of custom, and most of all, of fashion, until her vanity and self-indul

At midnight on the moonless sea,' might bear some comparison to the situation of a solitary being trusting herself upon the world's great ocean without this guide; but a richly-freighted vessel, crowded with human beings, and bearing in its bosom the interests of as many souls, yet venturing out to sea without a pilot, without a compass, without any hope or means of safety, might with more justice be compared to the woman who should dare to engage in the deep responsi

rect her course. Whatever difficulties may be thus encountered, she cannot meet them alone. Whatever dangers, others are drawn in to share them with her. Whatever storms, she braves them only at the peril of the precious lives committed to her trust Whatever

rock she strikes upon, it wrecks not her alone, but all—all the rich treasury of hopes and interests which she bore along with her in that presumptuous course, and for all these she is accountable. I repeat, the thought is too appalling. Let us turn to scenes of more familiar occurrence, where there is more satisfaction, because there is more hope.

very heart of domestic life; and it works the more deceitfully by mixing itself up with all that is most reputable and most approved in society in general, and not less than others, in the society of the good.

Persons of this description, in all probability, seek the acquaintance of the well-meaning young wife, or she seeks theirs; and being a sincere and somewhat hopeful character, not having much foundation of her own, but easily led on by others, she is induced by their companionship to take a higher stand

fore. Encouraged by their kindness, she advances step by step, progressing outwardly, and gaining confidence as she goes on. All this perhaps might be well, for she is still sincere so far as her self-knowledge extends; but here again the spirit of the world creeps in. Indeed the question is, whether she has not all the while been actuated by the spirit of the world, for it is now so reputable to be religious, that temptation can assume this form as well as any other.

There is a large class of persons, who without having given up their hearts entirely to the influence of personal religion, are wishing that they could do so, and intending some time or other that they will. On all solemning in religious matters than she ever did beoccasions they feel as if they actually would; and never more so perhaps than when they enter upon the duties of married life. To woman this is so great and important a change, that it naturally produces, if any thing can, trains of reflection highly favorable to an altered and improved state of mind altogether; and if she has ever seriously thought of religion, she does so then. Those who rest satisfied with good intentions, and especially in religious matters, are glad of any alteration in their circumstances which they think will make it easier to begin; and they hail the opening of a new life, as the entrance upon one which will be more exemplary than the past. Thus it is often with perfect sincerity, that the young religious professor believes she will set out upon a new career when engaging in the duties of a wife. Her feelings are much softened, too, by separation from her former friends; she fears the difficulties of her untried path; and thus is altogether more disposed than ever in her life before to do, and to be, what she sees clearly to be right. If, under these circumstances, she has married a good man, her first temptation will be to think, for that reason, that she must be good herself; if a man who has little or no religion, her first trial will be to find that instead of being helped, as she had expected, so smoothly on her way, she has, in addition to her own difficulties, to help him and all his household.

But a more familiar temptation, and a more frequent trial than either of these, is one which steals by its insidious nature into the

With this advance in an outward, and, perhaps, too visible profession, the cares of the young wife increase. The circle of her acquaintance widens. Visits und morningcalls are not to be neglected; and well if they are not devoted to that most objectionable of all kinds of gossip, which chooses the minister and the observances of a religious life, for its theme. But in addition to this, the young wife listens to the popular and common talk about low worldly things. She learns to think much of her furniture, much of her dress, and much of the manner in which she entertains her friends. Nay, she is even glad to see that all this competition does not appear to be discarded from the fashionable world. As time passes on, she becomes more and more absorbed by the growing cares and thickening perplexities of every day; until at last it might become a matter of doubt to those around her, which in reality occupied her thoughts the most, the preparation for a party, or the preparation for eternity.

Need we wonder that such a woman has little religious influence? That she fails to

adorn the doctrine of our Saviour, or to commend the faith which she professes? Need we wonder that her husband, her servants, society at large, are not made better by her conversation and her example? Yet strange to say, it is sometimes wondered at that the religious conversation of such persons does not do good, and they themselves, when they have leisure for it, will labor diligently for the conversion of the poor. But they forget that those around them, and especially the poor, are quick-sighted to their inconsistencies, and that they know by other evidence than words, when the world is really in the heart.

By this slight picture, far be it from me to convey an idea that I could represent the really changed in heart; for I know that theirs is a foundation which none of these things move. I speak of those who have been only almost persuaded, and who, on the solemn occasion of their marriage, have set out in life with serious views and good intentions; yet whatever may be the clearness of these views, or the strength of these intentions, I believe that a great number of hopeful beginnings have been frustrated by this single root of evil, this spirit of the world. I believe also, that more spiritual declension among women

may be traced to the same cause, than to all the vice and all the infidelity to be met with among the openly profane.

It is then against this single enemy, above all others, that married women have to sustain each other in waging constant and determined war. I repeat, it is hard, too hard, for any single individual to struggle against the tide of popular feeling, more especially when religion numbers in her ranks so many who divide her claims with those of the world. But if the happiness of home be precious, we have that at stake. If our intellectual and moral good be worth preserving, we have that to cherish. If our religious influence be the most important treasure committed to our trust, we have that to hold secure. All to which the best feelings of the heart attach themselves as lovely and enduring is ours, if we maintain this conflict as we ought; and sink under it we never need, for we know to whom to go for help.

Let us then remember that a worldly spirit is the very opposite of that which finds its home in Heaven; and if our interests are sufficiently engaged in what is spiritual and eternal, we shall not easily be turned away to fix them upon "lower things."

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