304 SCRIPTURAL PORTRAITURES OF WOMAN. her childhood-the playmates of her early years-the on his father, has always been a mystery to my mind. home of her happy youth-the grave of her father--the I cannot believe, as some commentators have suggested, countless associations of her whole life! Often indeed that a divine command directed her conduct. It is not since that hour, has human love renounced the same, likely that a subject of a moral government would be and gone forth in the strength of its own kindling upon ordered to infringe its laws by the Framer of those a new and untrodden pathway. But there was no laws. Rebekah appears to have mistaken the import such emotion stirring in the bosom of Isaac's future of the prophecy concerning her offspring, and referred wife. That overmastering and engrossing sentiment it to her two sons personally, instead of the nations they which holds such lordly and mysterious ascendancy represented. The contempt manifested by Esau for his over the spirit it has once subdued, had yet no actual birth-right, and its transfer to Jacob, favored her opinexistence in the heart of Rebekah. Love was with her ion; and when she saw her husband about to cross, as but a shadowy vision-an impalpable influence, haunt- she imagined, the designs of Providence, her anxiety ing her imagination, but leaving her affections free. to secure the covenant blessing to her favorite child, It may be that her girlish fancy invested the son of dictated the reprehensible course she pursued. The Abraham with the attributes she had hitherto ascribed disapprobation of Heaven may be traced in the varied to the ideal personification of her radiant dreams, but sorrows of Jacob's checkered career. There is a consuch a vague conception could not have influenced her siderable degree of self-determination evident in the decision. The unwavering assurance that God directed character of Rebekah; and her actions were as prompt her course and required her acquiescence with his prov- as her resolves were firm. We perceive this in the idential arrangements, must have been the sole motive very commencement of our acquaintance with her, and that determined her. I have painted her to my vision it distinguishes her throughout her history. Having pursuing her journey to the "south country," and con- devised her plan of dissimulation relative to her husjectured the varied feelings which must have swept her band, she met the objections of her son calmly and spirit's chords, and lent their changeful hues to her steadily, and assumed the entire responsibility of the cheeks. As they approach the well of Lahai-roi, a sol-deed she counseled, and afterward, when informed of itary pedestrian meets her eye. Probably her heart the hostile purpose of Esau toward the brother who divined his identity with the subject of her thoughts, had robbed him of his father's blessing, she quickly and beat more quickly as she preferred the inquiry, decided on the means of preventing the impending evil, "Who is he?" Our interest in her destiny increases admonished her son of the course he must pursue, and up to this moment; we pause anxiously over the brief engaged to obtain the consent of his father. How natannouncement that the steward "told Isaac all that he ural is the appeal she makes to her husband to induce had done,” and with a sense of gratification and delight his concurrence: "I am weary of my life because of read in the sequel that "Isaac loved her." I have pic- the daughters of Heth: if Jacob take a wife of the tured him conducting her to the tent of his mother, daughters of Heth, such as these which are of the pointing out the various articles her hand had fashioned, daughters of the land, what good shall my life do me?" dwelling upon the tokens of her maternal regard, and Esau had espoused two of this heathen race, and this, the loneliness of his life since she had died, while Re- we are told, in the touching language of the Bible, bekah's attention and sensibility evinced her apprecia-"was a grief of mind to Isaac and Rebekah." Yet tion of his emotions. And while they thus communed, truthful as were the words of Rebekah, we feel that although the theme was linked with sadness, their first she was not wholly sincere in urging them as a plea agreeable impressions of each other deepened. She to gain her object. Her principal reason for desiring loved him for his tenderness and filial devotion to the the departure of Jacob to Syria, was her fear of Esau's departed's memory-he loved her because she sympa- vengeance. One step in deception generally leads thized with him. He was comforted from the death he to another. Jacob bids farewell to his father's house had deplored; she resolved to copy the virtues which and journeys to Padan-aram, and from that time we had won his affection. Without the 63d verse the his- have no farther account of his mother, except the tory of Rebekah would have been incomplete. The simple and incidental remark, that she was buried in particular providence which guided her in the circum- the cave of Machpelah, uttered by her son many years stances of her marriage, continued to direct her after after. We have no reason to believe that she ever she became a wife; as the reward, no doubt, of her looked on him again, but we doubt not her imagination piety, for we are informed, in the hour of perplexity often hovered round him in his distant servitude, and she "went to inquire of the Lord." The revelation if she received any intimation of the harsh treatment granted her of the future greatness of her children, and bestowed on him by the brother from whom she had the dominion of the younger over the elder, probably been so long separated, she must frequently have wept influenced her preference of Jacob above his brother; regretful tears over the fraud that caused his banishment but I have also thought that preference might have re-from the home of his infancy. sulted from his domestic habits, associating him more closely with herself. While Esau loved field sports, Jacob dwelt in tents with his mother. The subsequent THE hate which we all bear with the most Christian deception she practiced or caused her son to practice || patience is the hate of those who envy us. NATURE'S WORSHIPER. Original. NATURE'S WORSHIPER. BY WILLIAM BAXTER. SPRING'S early zephyrs wanton'd 'mid the flow'rs, But there was one With heart attun'd to minstrelsy like this, Whose eye of genius told, where now though dim The bright, sublime, the forms which beauty wears Youth's hopes be crush'd, life's flow'rs fade e'er they bloom'd That all he wish'd would vanish. Strange thoughts came o'er him; vision-like they seem'd, Like happy dwellers in a sinless land; Yet they were truthful, shading brightly forth The glowing beings of a lofty mind. Which make the past, the present, all were there. He felt that he must die, yet life seem'd sweet, By the bright lustre which now seem'd to gleam From out the shades of dim futurity. All that he lov'd was there, and all that thought He now could die Earth had no forms like those which lured him on, To earth in all its beauty at his feet. Again I feel the breath of spring I hear the waters murmuring I breathe again the balmy air But death upon my pallid brow Yon rill's faint dying murmur seems Soft even as the voice of dreams It tells me I must die. How can I die? creations bright When mem'ry's scenes for ever new When all hope whisper'd seems in view, Yet O what rapt'rous sounds I hear, The strain is faint, and fainter yet The dying echoes float With death's cold damp my brow is wet And still I hear each note They stir pure thoughts within the deep Recesses of the heart, And in the silent grave to sleep I gladly would depart. 'Tis past, he murmur'd low, 'tis past, And rais'd his dying eye It clos'd-his spirit sought at last TO A YOUNG FRIEND. But soon the hue of health will die On that fair cheek of thine, Soon death will quench in that bright eye The flashing light divine. Fly to the Savior; and his might, Who rear'd and deck'd thy form, Shall rouse again, its slumbering dust, To dwell for ever with the just 305 306 Original. THE AGED. THE AGED. well as to warrant a decision. Let that decision be a mental one-a tacit one; and of all things let it be a It is not simply filial duty, which would imply re- charitable one, lest where we might suggest hints of spect and regard, and the performance of all the com- amelioration and reform, we should only provoke judgmon duties of a child to a parent-it is not this alone ment upon the "impertinence and intermeddling" of which we would bespeak for our subject. Beyond this, the attempt. No personality is here intended or supwe would inculcate the beauty and the holiness of such posed. But we claim the right to dissertate abstracta course of tenderness and respect and untiring vigilance, || edly upon a subject of morals, taking it in the general; toward the aged parent, as would place the affection yet aware that a practical view throws it into particunow returned by the son or the daughter, somewhat on lars. And all that the apology is intended to signify a par with that which was formerly bestowed upon is, that whilst we claim the unalienable right of opinion, themselves, by the now feeble and failing hands of the we disclaim the impertinence of interfering in family aged parent. In the mutual relations of life, as it matters, the cases being not often so flagrant as to regards the social or the family compact, no one per- overrule this punctilio of decency. haps is so little recognized by public censure, or by morality, or by feeling, as is a defalcation in this. But "what," say you, "are the circumstances by which this want of respect is manifested?" Generally It were trite to observe, that reverence to parents is a the instances are minute and trifling in themselves; yet, relation which is sustained by all civilization. It is being of continual recurrence, they swell to an aggreeven, therefore, perhaps, that it is taken for granted. gate both serious and improper, placing the elder in a The sentiment is also known to the rudest forms of subordinated position, which accords not with the revbarbarism; even the absolute savage, with little excep-erence which age and seniority should command from tion, acknowledges a gratitude to the hand which has its juniors. reared and cherished his infancy. The sentiment is of For instance, a widowed mother or father not unfrenature. We do not intend to say that there is often quently resorts to the house of a married child, there to any very gross violation in this matter. We all know reside. And it is mostly from this point of view that the clause of Scripture and the promise which accords we would look at the subject. Will the remark here length of days, and sustenance, and the blessing of be pressed upon us, "Do you intend to say that the Heaven upon him who "honors father and mother." master or the mistress shall give place in their own That there should be any departure from a law so en- house, exalting a parent, themselves being subordinforced and so commended, would seem matter of sur-ate?" We answer, "No, it is no question of honor, prise, if we were not in all things prone to depart from nor of place, nor of subordination, nor of abasement, our duties, and to wander from the "good way," by the for which we contend; but only the observance of that perverseness of an untoward heart. And the surprise law of kindness and evangelical courtesy which gives would seem still greater that there should seem anyplace, preferring others." From the truly pious we fear disposition to violate the bond of affection so sedulously no misapprehension. Very lately, in reading the life of woven year after year, by acts, and words, and deeds of a young man devoted to a foreign mission, we were kindness! Yet, here it is-we must make the abasing struck by a remark. He writes to a friend in whose care confession-here it is, that the aggression originates! he leaves his mother, "Please indulge her in spoon vicThe disregard of the superannuated parent (where it tuals as often as is convenient, for she is old." The exdoes exist) is not so much a deliberate vice, as it is a pression, however homely, is ennobled by the sentiment, thoughtless and wanton neglect. It is in fact that lapse and this passing sketch spoke more than volumes could of virtue which originated in, and has been constantly have done for the kindness and filial piety of the son. abetted by the disproportioned and overweening indulgence of the parent toward the child or the grand-child, in its days of infancy to more mature life. In the latter instance the dotages of time tend greatly to aggravate the evil to both parties. That this is the case, we may infer, from all the varieties of disposition on which similarity of treatment has produced this identical result. Would we go then to assert that most persons mistreat their parents when old? We do not speak of most persons, but only some persons; and they, be they whom they may, make up the precise number spoken of. For our subject itself, we do not like to be specific, or to enforce a censure like this, in words that offend and perhaps hinder of their own intention. We prefer to leave the thing to the contemplation and the candor of the reader. Let each of us then consider the subject, and take in review the cases known to us so Such little observances, not ceremonial, of place and precedence, as are suitable to offer to the aged, are very pleasant to notice. How gracious an act is it to see the grand-son or the grand-daughter sustaining the steps of the grand-parent on the Sabbath, marshaling to the pew; or assisting on the few occasions in which the aged frequent public assemblies. In the parlor, at the table, by deference in conversation, and upon manifold occasions, can the consideration of which we speak be fitly shown. How cheering, even to the beholder is it, to see the juniors of a family delight sometimes to take the aged grand-parent a ride—not a solitary ride, shut up in a carriage and left to the care of a servant, but as being made one of the company, in a social, rational, joyous morning excursion; where the outward elements administer to the happiness of the time and hour. Any thing of this sort is noticeable and commendable, and the families in which these acts of consideration are THE AGED. performed, are altogether better regarded as a family, than those which are remiss. Yet our observation is not intended as a motive; the affection and good feeling which give rise to such a conduct, leave external views at a vast distance behind them. 307 the sexagenarian, or may be the octagenarian presides. At other times it is less public-confined to the inmates of a house; but never forgotten. Some severe or sordid caviller replies that the old "should have other ideas than those of festivity and showing out." But we disInstances there are, where juniors look with eyes of claim this view of the subject. The sentiment which anticipation upon the property of an aged relative. it betokens is a deeply seated one, and one which fosters And where this is the case-and a heinous offense it mutually a pure principle of affection. On the part of is-we should almost say that the individual were more the aged, what axiom of morality, what rule of religion happy in a state of destitution, than living amidst those requires of them to relinquish the sentiments of humanwho harbor such a sentiment. Yet the aged, however ity and of kindred, whilst they abide yet in life? Is a sheltered, are always better served while retaining some course of piety best sustained as emanating from a heart property in their own right, than they ever are, having satisfied and at ease in its sympathies, or by a spirit alienated it. It is an unfeeling requisition to desire rendered callous and moody and depressed by mortifithem, however old, to pass the whole of their property cation and denial? We are instructed in Scripture before they naturally relinquish it. And ill befall the that there is sin and defalcation of duty in "hiding our heir that hankers after it-not by our denunciation-talent." But to the aged who suffer neglect in the way but by the irreversible issue of its own law; for, "Who- signified, this condition is as it were suborned upon so covets," &c. them. For no doubt those who live too much alone (and this sometimes happens amidst a house full of people) suffer, naturally and imperceptibly, a falling away of activity and ability; for the disuse is the abuse of character. For what, was the social instinct so strongly inwoven with all our sentiments, but to evolve and exercise them? But if there is a cutting off of all opportunity for their exercise, they must perish, oppressing the heart they were intended to dilate and to strengthen. This is a sad picture, and by no means so uncommon as a cursory view might lead us to suppose. Yet let us not be mistaken as charging any very gross violation of duty in the case generally. Mostly the aged of our country, if unhappily destitute of property, are made comfortable as regards their physical and personal wants. They are fed, and clothed, and sheltered; yet even in these particulars there may be a vast amount of difference to the recipient in the manner in which they are rendered. We need not explain the etceteras, which a little reflection will readily suggest to the reader. It is often, as we have said, that a want of reflection and a conformity to what is customary, abets this evil, even with many who are good natured enough to wish it oth It is often imputed that age is morose and peevish, too often. The aged are many times so much overlooked, in the multiplicity of interests which engage a numerous family, that they are cut off from almost every source of association, and, excepting that they participate at the table, they are hardly to be seen. In some houses, even fire-side privileges are denied to them; a remote chamber, perhaps, being assigned as a suitable retirement, the idea or the admission acted up-| on that the old are no longer social beings-all the circumstances being calculated to prove the assertion. The depressing influence of neglect, no doubt works much unhappiness to the aged, tending to make them essentially older than needs be. "What have the old to do with company," says the sanctimonious wiseacre, "let them read their Bibles and be comforted; what more would they have?" Certainly, let them read their Bibles, and they will be comforted. Even there it is said that "the face of a friend maketh glad." And whilst they are yet alive they may without impropriety demand some participation for the sympathies of the heart, for conversation, and for the consideration and the humanities of life. Every civilized country, weerwise, if they "had only thought of it." They be are told, surpasses our own in the respect paid to the aged. Of course, therefore, in every other country are the aged more happy than in ours. But why should it be so? Surely to respect and love our own parents requires no superior effort. And where it is not so, the fault originates generally in carelessness and neglect, and an unrecking conformity to a bad, vulgar custom: the foolishness of disregarding persons because they are old, rather, in most cases, than for any deteriorating circumstances of age. The French are esteemed by us as a people of shallow sentiment and factitious sensibilities; yet how pleasing is it to witness the affectionate respect which they pay to their elders, embodied occasionally in observances which serve to impress and to perpetuate the sentiment. Such, for instance, as the noticing the birth-day anniversaries of their parents. Sometimes it is a little fete where all the children, grand-children, and other young persons attend, and lieve that what is acquiesced in is always right. Alas! custom has an iron sway over the oppressed in every form where it exists-a matter to be righted at another audit. We stated in the beginning that it were desirable that the attention and regard bestowed upon us in infancy should now make a corresponding return to our aged parents! "But this," says one, "is not required of us! Nature has dictated the former duty in a way not to be disputed: whereas, she has left the latter more to our own choice and discretion; and the two cases bear no comparison in the argument or the duty!" It is true that nature hath made the fostering of our young a matter of necessity; and that the heart of the mother yearns in fondness over her child. It is true that the impulse of affection is not so irresistible in the other instance as in this. But shall we infer from thence that no duty is violated when we suffer the aged parent, now, perhaps, in second childhood, to move about us unregarded and uncared for? After all it is very much in the way of stating this question, as to what we shall make of it—that is, ostensibly. And the most we can say is, that she who neglects her child commits an unnatural sin; and she that neglects her parent commits comparatively a natural one! Much is sometimes said about the "heart's being in the right place;" but the heart is never in the right place unless it is in keeping of God. It must not only feel, but it must act. And it is from thence that "the rule of discretion" which has been accorded us, is of doubtful authority in the case. We are not to account of our emotions in opposition to principles. Obedience to the laws of God is the rule of our duty; and if our discretion reach not this rule, neither will it cover our responsibility. We are told truly, that we have no merit of our own; for the moment that we attempt it, we blunder upon our humanity. A simpler rule, the rule of obedience, hath been given us; and this places the most arrogant upon a level with the humblest; yet all is safe and right. And so let us "honor our father and our mother; that our days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." Ring through the courts of the bending heaven. Hastes to fulfill the fearful command; "Life to the dead!" And the wave shall bear Original. DEATH AND LIFE. BY MISS DE FOREST. "DEST unto dust." And nature all pale, I hear the moan of her bitter wail- Its sunny beauty hath pass'd away." "Life to the dead!" And the joyous spring Leaps from the thrall where winter had bound her, Clad in the brilliant blossoming, Of the graceful drap'ry glowing round her. "Life to the dead!" A voice from above A PORTRAIT. But strong and elevated was her mind; Could look superior down A wit that temperately bright All pleasing shone, nor ever passed THE WRECKED SOUL. I HAVE seen the dark ship proudly braving, And heard the seaman farewell sighing, His death prayer to the wind! Than proud barque lost, and seamen's woc,Or battle fire, or tempest cloud, Or prey bird's shriek, and ocean's shroud!The shipwreck of the soul. |