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dingly trusted. We had an interest in him, too, of an || over the disregarded boundary with a step that brought earlier date. These were the young emigrants whom him as it were with a single stride to his dwelling. Did we brought before our readers in another number, and his wife meet him at the door? or at the bed-side of his the fears we then expressed for them had been all too children? No! She was lying in the same room; but truly realized. Nor had the angel of the pestilence she was unconscious of their state, or of her husband's now passed their dwelling by. That wife's hurried presence. She was raving in the wildest delirium of step, so at variance with the languor of her countenance, the fever-she was unconscious even of the existence had its meaning. She would come herself to meet her of her own new born babe that lay, a thing of scarce husband; but she might not linger from the bed-side of perceptible life, beside her. her suffering children!

But why linger over a single scene? Suffering and death were all around us. Within view of the window where we are penning this most inadequate sketch, is a building that was then our village hotel. In every chamber of that building, through the long watches of the night, burnt the flickering taper that betokened the sufferer within. How fearful-how sad was the passing of some of those spirits. Many of them were young men whom the wide arena of western enterprise had lured from the parental home; and no familiar voice, no kindred face now met their wistful gaze or ear when dying. Among them we recollect a young man of that abiding interest of character which genius and talent in youth especially create. He was a member of the bar, and had just entered a career of singular promise and high distinction. He was betrothed to a lovely girl of congenial mind and station, and envy might have looked with a baleful eye upon the morning of brightness that seemed opening before them. But death had marked him for other than the bridal cham ber. He was ill but two days. Even she "who was all the world to him" had not been called to his pillow when the summons came. At the hour of midnight he sprung suddenly from his bed, and stood strong and erect upon the floor, calling upon his Maker in a loud voice of unimaginable agony. His watcher took him by the arm-a change came over his features. He was laid back upon his bed without resistance—the conflict was over-the form of youth and beauty and pride was a thing of dust.

Ah! how fully had our predictions been verified of that once light heart. How greatly had a few years changed her appearance. It was not merely that present affliction had touched it with sadness-a deeper work had been wrought upon it than that of the mere anguish of the hour. The whole character of the countenance was changed. The whole aspect was sunken and heavy and toil-worn. The play of hope and feeling seemed to have passed from it-not by sudden woe, from which the elastic spirit might hereafter spring to its former bias, but from the long and surely effacing wear of bitter discipline. That joyous face! so full of freshness-of hope-of rich expectancy-of glad enthusiasm-of ardent thought! There is no trace left there of the existence of aught of these. Alas for life! how do its rugged influences mold and warp the early character. Yet are they, doubtless, necessary to fit the heart for the operation of that sublime and holy influence, whose breathings upon the soul are of eternal peace-as the fire which seems to scathe the fresh green soil, and the plough-share that tears up its bosom, prepares it for precious seed, and must prelude the blessed dew and sunshine that call forth the germ and ripen the fruit to maturity. Happy, most happy was it for her of whom we speak, if the extinction of her earthly dreams-the utter falling out of the bright visions-the gorgeous hallucinations of her early years, left her heart in its deep desolateness at last accessible to the hopes that are of another world. But we might not at that time withhold from her our In the same row of buildings there was one that, compassion, for the "iron that had entered her soul" though a private dwelling, had always been open (for pierced it harshly. She was passing an ordeal of no at that time we had no public sanctuary) to the worcommon endurance. Even the husband, whose usually shipers of our faith. There was a small people among unaltered countenance and changeless manner had evi-us professing Christ, and here had their meetings been denced the truth of our early impression of his stronger nature, asked for his children, as morning and evening the poor mother came to tell him of their state, in a voice that had lost something of its firmness; and when his wife, with a step faltering with weakness, at last turned back to their home of suffering, he looked after her with an expression (though not a muscle moved) that bespoke anguish. But these interviews of sorrow were interrupted.

There was a morning when the wife came not, and the husband paced that spot of ground with a look he had never before worn. But another messenger at last came. His children were thought to be dying, and something further was yet added. What was that line of legal restriction now? The trammels of the law were broken asunder as flax and the father strode

most generally held; for it was the dwelling of one, of whom we have formerly spoken-him whose first inquiry as he touched our shore had been, “Hath the Lord a people here?" How often had we knelt under that roof as that devoted follower of our Lord poured forth his earnest soul in prayer for the extension of that small and most humble Church. But whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth-his hour of earthly trial had come. He had been eminently prospered-he had acquired wealth, and his large and interesting family had grown up around him amid the comforts and privileges of abundance. But of all he possessed, nothing now availed him, but his trust in God. Day after day a small funeral group emerges from that door. Three lovely daughters in the prime of womanhood, and these followed by a brother in the flush and spring-time

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of youth, are borne, one after another, to our silent the first time, went forth from their chambers of suffercity.

ing. One was borne to his grave by bearers who stagBut who was there to take note of the mourner? gered-not under the weight of their burden, but with The horrors of the pestilence were hourly deepening. the unholy draught they had swallowed ere they "took The mourners themselves had to fulfill the rites of the up their mortal load." Nor did they finish their task! dead. Mothers laid out their children, and children Upon the verge of the yet unfilled grave, into whichtheir parents. The wife wrought her husband's shroud, not without many an awkward effort-they had at last and the husband himself laid the form that had slept lowered the unchiding dead, they poured off the reupon his bosom in her coffin. Yet were there woes mainder of the flask they had brought with them to bitterer, perhaps, in the endurance, than even these; cheer their labors. And then, unable to fling their kinthough, except by those who have felt the might of dred dust upon the poor remains, they left them to the need, its agonies may not be understood. In our devo-dews of night that were already falling, and returned to ted village there were some dying of want! Many a the village in all the revolting merriment of inebriate family among us were dependent for the supply of their carousal. immediate necessities upon the daily labor of their head, and the blow which deprived them of this re-ture, to which a season so calculated to destroy convensource left them utterly destitute. There were children who lifted up their little hands, at the bed-side of their parents, vainly for bread; and parents who watched over their families, night after night, without the sustenance necessary to support them under their painful vigils. In many instances, too, where the disease itself yielded to medical skill, or the mastery of nature, (I should rather, perhaps, have said, where a mightier than death staid his power,) the convalescent sufferer awoke from the torpor or madness of fever, to experience the consciousness of the keen gnawings of protracted and terrible want.

But let me be just. If, amid the revealings of na

tional restraints necessarily led, there was many a trait from which memory recoils, there were also those upon which it dwells with delight. Many an instance was there of active benevolence-of unguerdoned vigils— of generous self-abandonment-and of the faithfulness of friendship unto death. Though the common offices of neighborly kindness, as has been remarked, were for a season suspended, yet it was but for a season. The deep sufferings of want and destitution that followed it, were only unheeded where, for the time, they were unknown. There were those who testified their faith in our Lord, by ministering to the needy, and those who But amid these scenes of heart-rending trial, we be- were a hungered. Then, too, did we witness the fulfillcame yet more sadly schooled in the appalling philoso- ment of the promise of Him who has said, “Leave thy phy of human depravity. We had read that in those fatherless children to me." From several large families fearful visitations of the plague, which almost depopu-in circumstances of absolute penury, both parents were lated the thronged cities of the older world, at a season | swept as by a single stroke. Yet were not these orphans when it would seem that madness itself must have in a single instance left unprovided for. A way was paused before the dreadful chastisements of Him who opened out for them. Does the unbeliever regard it as had "loosed the seals of the pestilence," there were a circumstance of chance?-those numerous little ones those who abandoned themselves to every excess of whose helplessness drew heavily, even upon the now licentiousness and mirth. Yet had our utmost credulity sealed fountain of paternal love-without claims of accorded but slow belief to the proof such fact afforded kindred-without those attractions which, in the home of the possible grossness of that nature which in its of wealth, childhood derives from the fostering hand of better attributes is "allied to angels." But even in our care and culture, in a world essentially cold and selfish small and simple village, and amid scenes that, however and full of cares; yet was a way opened for their supdeeply and darkly colored, necessarily afforded but slight port-not the stinted and humbling allowance of county parallel to the horrors of those cities of the plague; charity, but for their being reared with kindness, with yet were we taught, from what we did witness, a most watchfulness, and with respectability. To the feeling fearful lore. We learned how revoltingly callous the reader, who, from an interest in all the children of sorhuman soul might become to the deep rebukings of an row, may wish to hear something further of those we offended God, and amid the most terrible manifestations have individualized, we would add, that the little girls of his chastening power. In the later stages of the of the ravine, (if that be not a term too much savoring disease, the awful sense of the calamitous visitation, the phraseology of fiction,) were among these doubly which had for a time prevailed, gave gradual place to a bereaved orphans. The tender father who had seemed spirit of strange and even profane recklessness. They so illy spared from his motherless little ones, for the who ministered to the sick-not from kindred claims, labor necessary to procure them bread, was in a few or those of duty, but from the hope of reward, indulged weeks after the scene alluded to, called to leave them, in frequent and unhallowed excesses, and the light jest to return no more. His labor and his paternal cares and the heartless remark were heard in the very cham-alike ceased, and he slept by her side, whom he had so bers of death. "Are you seeking some one to lay you deeply deplored. The stricken flock was scattered, out?"-"Are you going to bespeak your coffin?" Such yet were they all provided with homes of comfort and were the remarks which, in allusion to the ghastliness decency. That of the elder of the little girls was more. of their appearance, were addressed to those, who, for It was a home of affluence of careful instruction-of

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estimable example-of sheltering tenderness, and endu- their mightiest intellect, their strongest laborers are sumring and steadfast affection. But we may individualize moned. They come to assist in the harvest. Our no further. Our village history has been insensibly very temple seems shaken with their power. The drawn out far beyond our purpose. Yet have we aisle no longer affords a foot of space. It is filled with later scenes still to depict. We may not pass over those who make haste to the altar. They are of the them, though it is here we feel how all-inadequate is old or the middle-aged-of the poor, the humble, the our pencil. stricken, and the sorrowful-yes! yes! and of the low, the ignorant, the contemned, the vile, and the debased; for all these have been bought with a price, and they are now called that their names may be enrolled on the book of ransom; but with these are the young, the gay, the distinguished, the wealthy, the talented, and the proud. All are alike thronging to the foot of the altar, and prostrating themselves in the dust, as mourners for the sins that have crucified their Lord.

Within the precincts of the village, there is a small settlement of foreigners, from the land of the Alps and the vine. They brought with them the customs, the gayeties, and the religion of their forefathers. They have been strangers to the peculiar doctrines of our fervid and simple faith. National preferences and hab

from those around them. But they, too, are among the crowd. In more than one foreign accent, we hear the inquiry, "Which is the way to Jesus." Their way is led by one whom we mark with peculiar interest. It is one whom we have long known. She has been the daughter of sorrow. United after a long betrothal, to one worthy of all her woman's trust-a native of her own still beloved country, young, gifted, amiable, and chivalric-she was early widowed by a stroke of terrible bereavement. Mid a festal hour, the discharge of a field-piece at an unguarded moment, closed for ever the career that had opened so brightly, and left the young and thrice happy wife, a blighted and stricken being.

If there are any among our readers, to whom the cup of suffering has been sanctified to the healing of their soul's deepest malady, they will, perchance, have mentally inquired ere this, whether this season of unwonted calamity were followed by no general awakening to the interests of that world, where sorrow and death are not. And truly, to the dim eye of reason, the obduracy of the nature that could resist the deep rebuke of the commissioned pestilence, would seem unfathomable. But we recognize in this, the overruling delay of that mysterious, but questionless wisdom, which still deadened the ear of the oppressor of Israel, to the deep cry that went up from his smitten land. Not through the ministry of gloom and terror, though sent upon us as tokens of his chastening power-notitudes have kept them measurably isolated and apart in the season of dread excitement and fainting dismay, was it the will of Jehovah to make himself clearly revealed to us. In the season of subsequent prosperity, in the protracted hour of calm and sunshine, in the supineness of gay security, but in the possession of all its functions, was the secret soul at last shaken by the small still voice, that bespoke the awful presence of Him, who can alone behold its depths. And then might the stranger in our village, have stood still and beheld the salvation of the Lord. Incomprehensible and unutterable power of redeeming love! how was it manifested in its utmost fullness, to the needy dwellers of our at last awakened village! There, where instead of prayer, the frequent strain of pleasure came upon | But upon that face, where the seal of hopeless sorrow the ear-where the things of time seemed the sole ob- has been so long set, there is a new expression. A ject of general desire, and the deep poison of infidelity deeper than earthly interest has been stirred in her soul. was infused through many a heart-there at last were Holier and stronger affections than those subject to heard the loud wrestlings of the men of God, agonizing death, are awakening in her heart a peace that shall for a people suddenly aghast with the sense of sin, and give a new coloring to the whole sad world around her, moved like waves in a tempest, by the power of the and is already settling on her pale brow. More than one Spirit. For many days, the stranger among us would of her own country are kneeling beside her-the fetters have vainly sought for a public door open to his en- of early prejudice are dissolved. The witness in their trance, save those of the sanctuary, which had been hearts attests the simplicity and lowliness of the rebut recently erected. The stores and shops were all ligion of Jesus. The triumph of the little church, shut. Not a stroke of the anvil or hammer was heard. whose corner-stone was so many years since laid in our Not a sound from the haunts of traffic or of pleasure. wilderness village, is at last arrived. The prayers that Not a voice even in the street, save at those hours when went up for it in that lowly cabin, where its first conits eager throngs were pressing to the house of the vert knelt, have been finally heard. Why do they cease Lord. It was a long continuous Sabbath. Day after to press to the altar? Why is the call of invitation at day came and went, and still that protracted assembling last disregarded? The fold is gathered in—the warfare for worship was prolonged. On the early air of morn- is accomplished. In all our village, there is scarcely ing, at the hour of noon, amid the stillness of evening, one who has not named the name of Jesus. Peace, be the sound of prayer and praise, the cry of the suppliant, still, to all! and the steadfast faith that brightens to the and the strong and assured voice of faith and trust went perfect day. Within our view, and beautiful in the up from that temple. And yet the interest deepens! quiet moonlight that is now flooding through our winThey who have expostulated from the pulpit, and min- dow, rises the simple, but neat church where, but a few istered at the altar, have become exhausted. They cry seasons since, we beheld them rejoicing with that exfor help. From the Churches of a neighboring cityceeding joy for which earth has no language. We

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thirst after a wearisome journey through the dusty re

SCRIPTURAL PORTRAITURES OF WOMAN.* gions of that sultry clime. Little could she conjecture

BY MRS. L. F. MORGAN.

REBEKAH.

that the exhausted traveler was the embassador of a "mighty prince," seeking a bride for the heir of his wealthy lord: but with ready politeness she grants the request, and proffers her services to water his tired camels also. Charmed by the high breeding and kindness of her demeanor, he ventures to tax her courtesy yet farther, and inquires if he and his suit can find the accommodation of lodgment in her father's house. Her willing hospitality promises more than is solicited: "We have both straw and provender enough, and room to lodge in." And as if in confirmation of the readiness of her family to entertain strangers, she prefaces the assurance with the announcement of her father's name. Doubtless the old man was proverbial for his generosity, and many a way-faring pilgrim had rested beneath his roof. Rebekah then hastens home to prepare her friends for his coming; but the faithful steward of Abraham suffered her not to depart until he had informed her by whom he was employed, and presented a pledge of the truth of his declaration. Perhaps that pledge was needed to insure him a gracious reception from Rebekah's elder brother, Laban, who appears to

In the patriarchal ages, a particular providence was rather a demonstration than a belief. From the moment when our first progenitors went forth in exile from their forfeited Eden, darkness and the shadow of death overspread the land. But amidst the general gloom which encircled its thickening population, one track of light was visible, and continued uninvaded and unobscured, although but few individuals of each succeeding generation seem to have walked therein. This light was kindled from that brief, but significant denunciation of our Creator against the tempter of earth's first proprietors, "The seed of the woman shall bruise thy head," and beamed through the portals of Eden to gild their lonely way. We may call it the light of a particular providence, by which I mean, the controlling and superintending guardianship of God, directing, appointing, permitting or overruling individual destiny. Noah's steps were illumined by it. It was shed upon Abraham's, and continued along the line of his posterity down to the institution of the Jew-have been at that period, the head of the family, as we ish economy, when it received additional brightness and fullness from law, system and embodiment. That a particular providence still determines the bounds of our habitation, and rules the lot of every living being, is as much a reality at this period of time as it was five thousand years ago, but it is less palpably apparent to our senses. In perusing the inspired history of those who figure in Scriptural annals, I have often paused thoughtfully, and almost envyingly, over the biography of Rebekah. She was indeed peculiarly favored in the clearness and explicitness of the revelation she received || relative to her own especial course. Behold her in the performance of her daily avocation, according to the simplicity of that primitive age, approaching the well to draw water at the evening hour. We would fain inquire of the thoughts which swayed her bosom at the moment, and whether a shadow from the brilliant destiny that awaited her, flitted across her fancy as she stood upon its verge. I have frequently desired to know something of the musings of the human soul Just before some important transition had passed upon its emotions, or some never to be forgotten era had been attained in its existence. Who has not vainly sought to recall his own vanished imaginings on the eve of an event which has given a new coloring to his fate? Such knowledge would be an invaluable acquisition in the philosophy of mind. But the few broken figments of disjointed thought our memories can furnish, are but questionable prophecies, and probably the Syrian maiden's retrospective glance could have detected no heralding promise of any unusual incident in the meditations that beguiled her walk. A stranger advances and respectfully asks the favor of her pitcher to satisfy his

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infer from the mention of her "mother's house," verse 28th of 24th chapter of Genesis, in connection with the 55th verse, and the silence of the historian respecting her father. The latter must have been gathered to his ancestors, and the Bethuel of the 50th verse, spoken of after Laban, must have been his younger son. We learn from the 30th verse that the jewels with which the stranger had decorated his sister, influenced the deportment of Laban toward his guest, so that our suspicion is plausible. And had Abraham's judicious messenger been a modern diplomatist he could not have plied Rebekah's covetous brother with more appropriate motives than those he afterward used to induce a compliance with his wishes: "The Lord hath blessed my master greatly, and he has become great: and he hath given him flocks, and herds, and silver, and gold, and men-servants, and maid-servants, and camels, and asses. And Sarah, my master's wife, bare a son to my master when she was old; and unto him hath he given all that he hath." With this imposing detail of the affluence of the young heir, he introduced the purport of his mission, and described the circumstances of his meeting with Rebekah. The interposition of Providence was so evident that we fully concur with the comment of the brothers: "The thing proceedeth from the Lord;" and we do not hesitate to approve the decision of Rebekah, when in the contest of their several opinions the ultimate appeal was made to her judgment. Brief and few were the words that told that decision: "I will go;" yet they contained her destiny! Perchance the feelings struggling at her heart forbade an added syllable. And surely such a positive conviction as was granted her of her Maker's will concerning her was requisite to sustain her in that delicate and trying resolve. She was to leave the mother who had watched over