14 Original. THE FINER FEELINGS. THE FINER FEELINGS. BY B. H. NADAL. we would at once say that this was a horrible perversion of the sense of sight-that the loveliness of creation ought greatly to augment, instead of diminishing his happiness. So, if we see a man unwilling to look candidly at the excellences of another-if we see him tortured at beholding virtue or wisdom in another-if we think at all, we at once decide that he is violating the law of his nature, and the law of God, and that his punishment is self-inflicted, in the torture which his envious soul endures; for talents and virtues have not less of real beauty and excellency when found in another than when found in ourselves; and surely, wherever they may be found, they ought to yield more pleasure to an intelligent being than all the beauties of inanimate nature. But still, lovely and charming as the amiable qualities of the mind may appear to the eye of disinterested virtue, when they are viewed through the discol ALTHOUGH the mariner may not understand the combination of causes that produced the evening rainbow, and may expend his rude philosophy upon it in vain, yet as soon as it appears he identifies it with as much ease as the philosopher, and hails it as the harbinger of a pleasant breeze and a smiling sky to-morrow. So, notwithstanding the "finer feelings" may not have been subjected to a philosophical investigation by all, and though some who have examined and reflected upon them may differ as to what they are, yet all know them when they appear, and render them acknowledged or secret homage to their charms. By the "finer feelings" we do not mean the feelings of fine, splendid, or pompous people-we do not mean a del-ored media of prejudice and jealousy, their beauty is icate perception in the choice of finery—an exquisite sense of personal beauty, or correct notions of bodily symmetry, graceful bowing, and fashionable grimacethese are things which owe their existence to the pride and folly of our nature, and their shape and coloring to haberdashers and dancing-masters-they are to be reckoned not among the ornaments but the clogs of the mind, fastened upon it under the pretext of embellishment, but becoming the tawdry bonds of intellectual slavery. But by the "finer feelings" we mean, those pure and generous emotions of our nature-those moral and intellectual gems, as valuable as rare, which glitter in the mind and glow in the heart, adorning the chartery from wealth and power, and bestow well earned acter, while they enrich the soul. In speaking of the "finer feelings" we use the word "fine" in its highest sense, viz., dignified, noble; and "feeling" we shall define as an emotion or state of the mind. By the "finer feelings," then, we are to understand, the most noble and most dignified states, or emotions, of which the human mind is susceptible. It will not, perhaps, be expected that all these feelings should be embraced in this article this would detain both you and myself too long. I shall, therefore, select a few, and leave you to number as many more as you can; for the more of these feelings you find, the more you enno-ing-thankfulness is the expression of that feeling. We ble our nature. 1. The first of these feelings which we shall notice, is that which results from a just perception of the virtues and talents of others, and a cheerful readiness to acknowledge them. We readily admit this feeling to be rather intangible, and difficult to define; but even the slightest examination of it will show that it has not been improperly classified. The great Creator intended that we should derive pleasure from every beautiful object in nature, and every amiable quality of the mind. This appears to be a law of our being. Hence we esteem the blind man a great loser-the charms of creation being shut out from his vision. And if any man with his organs of vision complete, were sincerely to tell us that every beautiful object in nature, instead of giving him pleasure, pained and tortured his mind almost to phrenzy, marred, and the sight is painful. How ignoble, how groveling must be that man who cannot look upon the foibles of his fellow without magnifying them into vast moral delinquencies! But how much more contemptible and unhappy is that creature who cannot see true worth in another without having all the worst passions of his heart inflamed and thrown into commotion! On the contrary, how ennobled-how raised above every thing sordid-how versed in the practical philosophy of mind-how true to his own best interest the man who can as easily excuse his neighbor as detect his faults-who can nobly dare to withhold flat applause to true greatness, though unsupported by patronage, and unadorned by pompous titles-who can discern merit wherever it exists, and appreciate it wherever it is discerned! The man who is possessed of such a feeling governs the kingdom of his mind with ease, and is "greater than he that taketh a city;" for this feeling turns ordinary fare into luxury, and the luxuries of men into something far surpassing the fabled nectar and ambrosia of the heathen gods. 2. Another of these feelings is gratitude. Gratitude differs from thankfulness in this gratitude is a feel may see the estimation in which this feeling is generally held, if we reflect how men regard its antagonist, ingratitude. Nothing wounds us more than harsh treatment from those who have been laid under obligation by our kindness. And why? Only because it proves them ungrateful. A son who returns his father's indulgence and affection by prodigality and disobedience, merits and receives the contempt of society. And wherefore? Mainly because ingratitude enters largely into his offense. The traitor Arnold is held in sovereign detestation by every American who is acquainted with the history of his treachery. And why? Chiefly because he was ungrateful to the land which gave him birth, and the government which gave him office and power. Our hatred of ingratitude is the measure of our admiration of gratitude. Just as much as we hate ingratitude, just so much we love gratitude. THE FINER FEELINGS. 15 Again. The forms of society testify in favor of this | Its woods might still resound with the song of the bird, feeling. If the most indifferent question is asked re- and the tuneless melody of the shaking leaf-the specting our welfare, we make large acknowledgments zephyrs might be as gentle, the sky as bright, the sea of gratitude, and the phrase, "I thank you," is kept as as pure, and the earth as fertile as ever-our cities constantly in motion, in the politer circles, as any word might still be filled with wealth, and decked with gayin our vocabulary. And the reason of this is obvious.ety, and our private saloons and places of public enterGratitude is so noble a sentiment, so exalted an impulse, that every one would be thought to possess it. The rogue, the hypocrite, the gamester, the niggard, all lay claim to a share of this feeling, and use the forms of society in reference to it; and although, as worn by them, "it is a mere pretense, in which the devil lurks, who yet betrays his secret by his works," yet their selecting it as the cloak of their dishonesty, or meanness, is a proof of the great value set upon it among men. How widely it differs from the pretended thanks of the inflated Pharisee! and how strikingly is it developed in the spirit and conduct of the grateful Zaccheus It softens the heart of him who feels it, and repays and blesses him who receives it. The following remarkable incident, illustrative of the power and loveliness of this feeling, is recorded in the history of Persia. tainment might continue to echo to the dance, and reverberate with the laugh of the fashionable and polite. But still, without this sympathy, desolation would be reigning over half the globe. The earth would wear its verdure, and the heavens put on their glorious garniture in vain for the millions that be dying unaided and unpitied. The widow, in visiting whom Christ declared pure and undefiled religion to consist, would be abandoned, a prey to unresisted disease. The asylum for the helpless orphan would be blotted from the list of institutions. The aged man of wealth, with his infirmities thickening upon him, forgetting his own feebleness, would dash the tattered hat from the hand of the broken soldier as he held it out to beg, and deride his unsightly limbs, which had been shivered in the defense of his country. The fierceness of war would allow no mitigation. As war is now conducted, In one of the battles of Cyrus with the Babylonians, in which the former was victorious, among the prison-when the warrior strikes the deadly blow, and sees his ers of war there was a lady of exquisite beauty by the enemy fall, he admires his valor and laments his fate. name of Panthea, the wife of Abradates, the king of But in a world destitute of sympathy for human misSusiana. Such was the fame of her charms, that Cyrus ery, war would be nothing better than cold-blooded was requested to see her. He positively refused, and slaughter, and the battle field a mere butchering place. ordered the lady to be protected until she could be given But let us adore the great Exemplar of sympathy, that back to her husband. Panthea wrote to Abradates, her the world is not altogether without this feeling. See a husband, and he immediately repaired to the Persian Howard, spending his whole time and fortune in tracamp with two thousand horse. Cyrus restored his versing his own country, and others, that he may buy wife to his bosom, which treatment so overcame them up the fleeting opportunities of doing good and be perboth with gratitude, that they forsook their kingdom, mitted to weep with those who weep. See a Fletcher and became the faithful subjects of the Persian general. who denied himself the comforts of life that he might Now, my readers, is not gratitude a "feeling""'—a have to give to those who needed. Hear him upon his noble feeling-a powerful feeling—a feeling that never death-bed exclaiming, "O, my poor! what will become can be adequately described, either by the "poet's pen," of the poor of my parish?" the sculptor's chisel, or the painter's pencil? Abradates and Panthea felt this powerful emotion, when at its bidding they laid aside their regal authority, and bowed at the feet of Cyrus as his faithful subjects they felt it when it rose up out of the deep fountains of the soul-when it gushed from their eyes in tears, and fell from their lips in melting confessions of boundless indebtedness. Cyrus understood it, then, for he felt that his own princely benevolence had produced it he understood it, then, for he read it in the faces and conduct of this noble pair. The historian has written an account of this affair, and we have repeated it; but the historian's page is but a shadow of the gratitude of the king and queen of Susiana, and what we have said is but the reflection of that shadow. Behold, how it diffuses its gentle influence in the palace of the king! When Edward VI. was requested to sign the death warrant of an alledged heretic, he at first positively refused; but being pressed by Cranmer, he at length yielded, and with tears in his eyes said to his instigator, "You shall bear the responsibility!" See how it softens the horrors of the battle scene! Sir Philip Sidney being wounded in battle, and being faint from the loss of blood, some one handed him a cordial. As he was in the act of putting it to his lips, he observed near him a wounded soldier looking him wishfully in the face. In his sympathy for his fellow sufferer he forgot himself; and without tasting the cordial, handed it to the soldier, saying, "Drink-your necessities are greater than mine!" 3. Another of these feelings is sympathy with human Behold how this feeling shines in a character greater misery. Our estimate of this feeling will be height- than divine, soldier, or statesman, and in scenes more ened by imagining for a moment what the world would imposing than those of the palace or the battle field! be without it. If this "bird of heavenly plumage For when the Savior of the world looked upon Jerusafair," were to take its flight from the earth, there would lem, moved by her guilt and danger, he wept over her; scarcely be left a relieving object for the eye to light and when he stood at the grave of Lazarus, the evanupon. True, the globe might not change its furniture.gelist, crowding the whole of divine pathos and sym pathy into two words, tells us "Jesus wept." If the institutions which assist the needy and protect the weak are of any value, cherish this feeling, for it is the seed from which they spring, and its tears the showers by which they are watered. If the picture of human misery and corruption is dark, cherish this feeling; for it is that which softens its horrors, and throws light upon its gloom. If the pages of history have been stained with the cruelty of those whose names it records, cherish this holy sympathy; for those tyrants had a few virtuous cotemporaries who let fall upon the record of crime some drops of sorrow with which, in the mournful perusal, we may mingle our tears, and enjoy a feast of delicious grief. But this feeling is not only rich and delightful in itself, but, if its promptings be obeyed, it is immediately followed by reward; for no sooner do we relieve the case of suffering or need which excited our sympathies, than we begin a rich repast on the gratitude we have awakened, and the happiness we have occasioned. This virtue is emphatically its own reward. Sympathy with human misery in a Christian is more pure and powerful-it leads him to look with ineffable concern upon the souls of others, both friends and foes. It causes him to weep over the wandering prodigal, and to be satisfied only with the prodigal's return. And at last it expands into universal Christian benevolence, and at one generous embrace takes in the world, and labors for its salvation. "As the smooth pebble stirs the peaceful lake, The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds Another still, and still another spreads; Friends, neighbors, parents, first it will embrace, Our country next, and next all human race; Wide, and more wide, the o'erflowing of the mind Takes every creature in, of every kind."-POPE. Sympathy with human misery likens its possessor to all the good; and he who possesses most of it most resembles Him who is touched with the feeling of our infirmities-whose pity knew no abatement until he had redeemed the earth with his blood. 4. Another class of these feelings, are those which arise from the domestic relations. Here we are presented with many a touching scene-within the sacred precincts of these relations we are called to contemplate the feelings of parents and children, and brother and sister. Have you never observed a fond father, as he sat in the midst of a group of playful children, looking alternately into the face of each, as if tracing his own features in them? And as he thus sat, have you not seen his feelings, his paternal feelings, compel him to bury his face in his handkerchief? Have you not observed the interest he takes in all that concerns them that he is even pleased with the pictures in their primers, because they afford pleasure to the children— that he listens patiently to their school stories-that he sits and builds castles in the air by the hour, and that he is transported at any indication which they may give of superior intellect? It may be said these are small things-and so they are; but they develop the unfathomed fountain of paternal feeling. Again. Do not most of my readers even now enjoy or at least remember the affection of a mother? Did I say "remember!" Our right hand shall forget her cunning, and our tongue cleave to the roof of our mouth, when we dare forget her whose hands cradled us-whose care guided our feet in their first efforts to walk, and our lips and minds in our first attempts to speak and think-who taught us the holy exercise of prayer-who knelt by our cot-side in childhood, and poured forth devotion so pure and fervent as none but a mother's heart could indite. At that time we could not appreciate the feeling that prompted a mother's prayer; but, O, what unutterable richness and beauty we see in it now! The feeling of which we are speaking gives to home all its attractions, and to the little sonnet of home all its popularity. Why is no place like home? Because those we love are there. And even when the old parental tenement has fallen into decay, or passed into other hands, and there remains to us "Nor man, nor child, nor thing of living birth, Not e'en the dog that watched the household hearth," still the charm lingers when the associations which gave it being are no more. The brook in the meadow is brighter than other streams to me, because my little brother and myself together chased the affrighted mullet through its limpid waters. The shade of the old oak in the yard is more pleasant than the shade of other trees, because the children used to group themselves there on a summer's Saturday for the purpose of getting their tasks; and the old beech that stands by the path leading to the school-house is more precious to my memory than all the trees of the forest, because my little sister held my books while I carved her name and my own upon its bark. When these scenes are mentioned, or in any way called up before our minds, they awaken feelings which may possibly define themselves in the heart, but which never can be made clear by description. (To be concluded.) Original. ON TIME. BY JOHN TODD BRAME. WHAT art thou, Time-a relic of the past- Sits on thy wrinkled cheek and fading eye, And forward gaze, thou ever hurriest by, Like the swift meteor o'er the starry sky? We mark thy progress by the wreck and waste Of man and man's inventions. Dost thou shed No tear of pity for the early dead, Nor grieve that thou hast severed dearest ties, And broken fondest hearts? With heedless tread Thou marchest on, with heart of stone, with eyes That never weep, and ears deaf to the mourner's cries! Original. PEACE IN DEATH. A BRIEF SKETCH OF THE LIFE, SICKNESS AND DEATH OF MRS. JANE B. RUST. BY HER FATHER, BISHOP MORRIS. MRS. RUST, my only daughter, was born at Spicewood Cottage, Cabell county, Va., February 27, 1815, and was baptized the same year by Rev. David Young, of the Ohio conference. Her constitution was naturally feeble, and her health delicate all her life; but that did not materially injure her mild and amiable disposition. Neither her parents or teachers ever had any difficulty in governing her. She was as steady and thoughtful in childhood and youth as most persons are at mature age. The most striking features of her character were meekness and kindness; the former appearing in every thing pertaining to herself, and the latter in whatever respected others. As a member of the family she was always attentive to her duties, and as a student to her studies. When only five years old, she read fluently and gracefully. She learned her lessons with great facility, especially such as were committed to memory, and being always diligent in preparing to recite them, seldom failed to stand first in her class; but was never known to take any credit or praise to herself on that account. On the contrary, kindness to her class-mates frequently led her to extra exertions in learning the dullest and most negligent of them, to keep them out of difficulty with their teachers. When Jane left Science Hill Academy, at Shelbyville, Ky., in the fifteenth year of her age, she had acquired all the essential elements of a sound and useful education, and some of the ornamental branches, and bid fair to excel in literary attainments. The state of her health, however, about that time, rendered it necessary that she should exchange her sedentary habits and mental exertions for an active life in the domestic business of the family, then residing in Lebanon, O. But subsequently, by reviewing and extending her studies, she improved her education, so that when seventeen years old, she read her French Bible nearly as well as the English. Her books were then all the recreation from domestic business that she desired. No place was so pleasant to her as home, however humble its appearance. She strictly regarded the rules of Christian courtesy toward all classes of society, which to her was an easy task, but had no relish whatever for fashionable amusements or gay company. She never wore a particle of jewelry or any superfluous article of dress in her life, but always appeared plain and neat at home and abroad. When she made calls out of the immediate circle of the family, they were generally made at the chamber of affliction, and accompanied with some supplies, or other tokens of kindness towards the distressed. The Sabbaths of her youthful years were taken up with her Bible, attending Church, and Sabbath school, first in the capacity of a scholar, and subsequently that VOL. III.-3 of a teacher, where she was both diligent and useful, till broken off by family engagements. At the age of twenty-one years, she was happily united in marriage to Mr. Joseph G. Rust, of Cincinnati, who was an only child, had been pious from his youth, and whose natural disposition and moral habits were congenial to her own. She became the mother of three children, two of whom are still living. As she had been a most affectionate and dutiful child to her parents, so she proved herself to be a faithful wife, and tender-hearted but judicious mother. Mrs. Rust never abandoned the principles of her early religious education. From the time she was first able to repeat the Lord's Prayer at her mother's side, she never omitted prayer one day during life. But the form of religion did not satisfy her mind. She commenced seeking a change of heart very earnestly, as near as I can recollect, in her ninth year, and for seven years missed no opportunity of going forward to be prayed for when circumstances were such as to allow it. She became a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church in her fourteenth year, but did not obtain a satisfactory evidence of the desired change of heart till about two years after. From the time she made a profession of religion, she attended all the means of grace regularly, but ever spoke of her experience with diffidence and humility, regarding herself as one of the least and most unworthy of God's children. Though her piety was uniform, and her life highly exemplary, she never dealt much in professions of assurance till after the commencement of her last illness; but then her confidence in God seemed to gather strength in proportion to the increase of her affliction and prospect of death. Her health began, perceptibly, to decline last spring. Much sympathy was felt for her on the part of her family and friends generally, and every possible precaution was taken to prevent disease from fixing itself on her lungs, but in vain. Her health continued regularly to decline. The protracted illness and ultimate death of her mother, and the mental anxiety consequent thereon, seemed to lessen her own prospect of recovery; for never did mother and daughter love more ardently and constantly than they did. The language of inspired David, respecting Saul and Jonathan, might well be applied in their case; they "were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided." Another circumstance which tended to weigh down her spirit, and tax her sympathies severely, was the loss of her interesting little son, Joseph Guest, who, after suffering much for four months, died July 31, 1842, aged fifteen months and eight days. When she returned from his funeral, on the first of August, she took a severe chill, and was subsequently confined to her bed most of the time, as she had been partially for months previous. These successive bereavements, which fell so heavily upon the family, were too much for her tender sensibilities in a feeble state of health, and no doubt hastened her own dissolution. The last letter which my daughter ever wrote was || name." As I had to leave next morning in the stage dated August 26, 1842, and addressed to myself at at three o'clock for the Indiana conference, I went to her Delaware, O., and was received during the session room at two o'clock that I might spend an hour with of the North Ohio conference, from which the follow- her. At her request I prayed with her once more; ing is an extract: she was deeply affected, but rejoiced in spirit. In my absence the property of her father-in-law and husband was destroyed by fire; and while the fearful conflagration shed a glare of light on her chamber window, she thanked God that she had a more enduring substance beyond the ravages of the destructive element, "an inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away;" and exhorted those near her to lay up their treasure in heaven. * "My hand shakes so that it is with great difficulty I can hold my pen. I am very glad to hear you are well, and are sustained under your arduous labors. I thank you kindly for all your letters, and especially for the first one. I have read it many times over, and still it always interests me. I have been very deeply afflicted since you left home, as you know. The loss of our dear little babe was a great trial to me, and for several days after, I felt as if I could not give him up; but since that I feel a sweet resignation to the will of the Lord, and would not have him back for asking." When in ordinary health, she wrote an excellent hand; but the trembling debility apparent on the face of that letter fixed a deep and painful impression on the father's already sorrowful heart, because it indicated too clearly that her feeble constitution was giving way under the influence of fatal disease. Returning home September 12th, my worst fears were fully confirmed. I found her prostrated and far gone in pulmonary consumption, but patient and resigned. She said to me, "I have never felt like murmuring during my affliction. The Lord has been good to me all my life. He blessed me wonderfully at the late camp meeting. I there enjoyed the preaching much as I heard it while lying in my chamber. And such singing I never heard before." In a conversation with me a few days after, she remarked, "I neither look back nor forward, but live a day at a time. I am in the hands of the Lord, and am willing that he should dispose of my case. If I get better I shall be thankful on account of my family; but if not, the Lord will support me to the end." On the following Sabbath she was exceedingly happy and rejoiced aloud, and exhorted her brother not to be discouraged seeking religion, for he had a kind, all-sufficient and willing Savior to come to, who was ever ready to hear the cries of the penitent. The next day she told her physician she never expected to be much better, but she was resigned; for the Lord supported her. She said it would be a trial to part with her family, but she trusted the Lord would give her grace to resign them all up cheerfully into his hands, and it would be no misfortune for her to go to heaven at any time. When I returned from the Ohio conference the first week in October, I found her still failing under the wasting influence of cough, chills, fevers and night sweats, and fully apprised of her certain approach toward the point of dissolution, but strong in faith, and joyful through hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. Monday 17th, she said to me, "I am determined to trust in the Lord come what will, not that I feel fully prepared for heaven, but God is able to perfect that which is lacking, and I believe he will-bless his holy When I returned from Indiana on the 27th, I found her disease greatly increased, and her strength so much reduced that she was never after able to sit up any; but she was still patient and resigned, professing to feel assured that the Lord cared for her, and that he could and would sustain her. When her affliction was extremely painful, she was willing to suffer all the will of God, and would not dare to ask her sufferings less, and prayed only for patience to endure, and grace to support her under them; and when they were mitigated, she would express much gratitude to her heavenly Father for a little relief. The first week in November she finished the distribution of some small presents among us, which we will ever regard sacredly as mementos of her affection. In this affair we were struck with the appropriateness of the selection for her children. To her little daughter she presented a small Polyglot Bible, which she had been in the habit of reading from the days of her youth; and to her little son, the younger of the two, she gave the pocket Testament, handsomely bound in morocco, with a tuck, which she had received as a gift from her father when she was a child, still in a good state of preservation. These presents were attended with suitable advice to the children. May they be thereby influenced to follow their mother as she followed Christ! Sabbath afternoon, November 13th, when I returned from Church, she said to me, "Pa, this has been a blessed Sabbath to me, I have enjoyed a sweet foretaste of that Sabbath which never ends. I was in a struggle all night and all morning for a blessing, and got rather discouraged, but it occurred to me, the Lord could bless me here on a sick bed as well as if I was in the church; I prayed earnestly, and he did bless me in a wonderful manner. I never felt so happy in all my life. I felt that I could endure all my sufferings cheerfully, and that I should be a conqueror in death, through the blood of the Lamb. I used to feel so unworthy I scarcely dared to call myself a follower of Christ, but he has forgiven me all, and I think I shall never again be tempted to distrust him. He will support me to the end." Thursday 17th, being just six months from the day her mother died, she made this remark to me in the evening: "Pa, I have been thinking to-day what a happy meeting I should soon have with ma, where we |