this beautiful and infinitely desirable ideal? It must not precipitate matters; that would prove disastrous. It would be like plucking up the tares before the proper time. As the defects and abuses of society referred to are governmental, to assail them directly would be to bring the kingdom of Christ in direct collision with the kingdom of this world; which would be most pernicious several ways. Humanly speaking, it would exterminate the church of Christ; for men would fight against it without restraint of conscience; looking at it as a mere earthly interest. Aside from this, the effect upon the world itself would be most blinding: Christ's kingdom is not wealth, nor political sagacity, nor military prowess; but righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. Above all, it would set aside those positive precepts which Christ has given in regard to the powers that may be over us. In all this, Christianity is regarding the expedient. Just as divorce was allowed to the Jews, though the true idea, the right, in regard to marriage, was otherwise; so christianity forbears to press things which it hopes to see realized hereafter in the world. In fixing her eye on the right, she maintains a high aim, and makes provision for progress: in regulating the pursuit of that object by the expedient, she has a wise reference to the nature of man and the condition of the world, as fallen; and takes care that the progress shall not be checked. Right gives an onward motion to the car; expediency keeps it from running off the track. Each is indispensable in its place; neither can be omitted: nor can their order and mutual relations be interfered with without consequences which self-love, benevolence and conscience must recoil from. To present the subject properly would require much explanation and expansion; and if I was writing to one who could read what I have written in a captious spirit, I would add many limitations, checks and illustrations." These are words of wisdom. They are like apples of gold in pictures of silver. If they could be incorporated into the creed of the American people, they would explode into air the ultraisms

Politi

in which our land is so fruitful. cal, ecclesiastical and socialistic agitators would learn the folly of attempting to realize in the actual of this "day and generation," the beautiful ideal of the millenial state. The development of humanity cannot be forced as gardener's force plants in a hot-house. Normal develop

ments are more gradual. The application of these principles to the subject is plain. If slavery be an evil it cannot be cured in a generation without inflicting greater evils. Social ameliorations which outrun the internal are mischievous. Let us rather adore that God whose woundrous alchemy "out of evil educes good." Let New Englanders ponder the words of Webster when speaking on this subject he said, "I sometimes contemplate with amazement and adoration events which have occurred through the cupidity and criminality of men, designed nevertheless by their Creator to work out great ends of beneficence." And Virginians should heed the words of Jefferson, when he said "In the disposition of these unfortunate people the first national object to be distinctly kept in view is the establishment of a colony on the coast of Africa which may introduce among the Aborigines the arts of civilization and science and thus render them more good than evil in the long run."

What is to be the destiny of the entire black population in America we cannot tell. The statistics of the census show that they are gravitating towards the tropics in a current as steady as the flow of the Mississippi. Many of them will doubtless long linger in the land of the sugar-cane and cotton-plant. With the Anglo Saxon for their guide, they may pass the Isthmus and spread over the valley of the Amazon, or like the crew of the fabled Phantom ship, they may be

Wandering o'er eternity,

Whose bark rides on and on,
And anchored ne'er shall be.

That the destination of many of them is Africa, we have no doubt. In the mean time we are comforted by the conviction that their bondage here has been a blessing to them and is fraught with blessings

to their fatherland. In the energetic language of H. A. Wise, "however criminal may have been the traders who from lust of gold brought them here, the slaves in the United States are in bodily comfort, civilization, christianity and actual personal freedom, worth all the principalities, powers and people of Africa; and slavery in the United States has been the most efficient missionary to the Heathen in the last two centuries. Not by going to Africa and rearing altars there at first, but by bringing their fathers here and preparing priests to go back to Africa and bear the christian torches through the darkness of her night. The black missionary to black Africa, like to like. And the Colony of

Liberia coming directly out of slavery is another trophy far exceeding that of any similar moral enterprise of the age. These results are worth all the sufferings and burdens of their savage ancestors, who would have expired without bearing fruits meet to repair their country and race for the evil out of which has come good enough to justify the ways of God to the master and to the slave. The destiny of the black population of the United States is towards Africa, my authority is God's providence against futile and impious attempts of human Babel builders upon earth. His servants had better be about their master's work."

66

"Why so melancholy, my dear Susan ?" said Mr. Atwood, as he drew a chair, and seated himself by his wife. 'Surely it is not an affliction to have a daughter well married, especially when the house of her husband is scarcely half a mile from that of her parents!"

"Yet you will acknowledge, George," replied Mrs. Atwood, "that let a daughter's prospects be ever so flattering, there is much to touch a mother's heart when she resigns her child to another. It is, in a degree, severing one of nature's strongest ties, and it could not be done without a pang, even were we able to foresee that her happiness and comfort would not be diminished. But on this point there is always a fearful doubt. The event only can prove, whether or not a man will make a good husband; and even should he do so, in the common acceptation of the term, there is still a doubt whether he and his wife are so matched as to make each other happy."

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Atwood, "for my own part, I feel no misgivings relative to Helen's happiness, and am very sorry you are inclined to anticipate trouble. In Mr. Howard, I have perfect confidence. His character is unblemished, and his principles such as every one must respect and approve. I do not suppose he is perfect; neither is Helen; but I think they truly love each other, and this will enable them to overlook and excuse each other's defects."

"I doubt not the rectitude or firmness of his principles," said Mrs. Atwood; "but must confess I have some fears that his temper may not be suited to Helen's. Some trifling circumstances have led me to apprehend, that he may be self-willed and obstinate."

"Firm, you mean, my dear," said Mr. Atwood; "and I hope he will be so. It will do much to improve Helen; for you know that want of firmness is one of the defects of her character."

"I have ever thought him somewhat too grave for a man of five-and-twenty. Volatility, I should as much dislike, as you would; but Mr. Howard would please me better, had he a little more buoyancy and cheerfulness. I fear he will be stern."

"Here, too," said Mr. Atwood, “I have thought that a kind providence selected the very man for our daughter! His sedateness will temper her vivacity; and her, sometimes, too thoughtless gayety."

"I am sorry you find so many faults in Helen," replied Mrs. Atwood.

"And is marriage like death," said Mr. Atwood, "that you forget them all, as soon as she is separated from you? Have we not always seen these defects?—and labored to correct them? I know her good qualities too. She is affectionate, kind, gentle, and forgiving;-and always willing to confess a fault, though somewhat too apt to repeat it. I know, too, that she has a fund of deep feeling, hid under a somewhat careless exterior,-and that her temper was cast in nature's finest mould. All this I know, and much more; and doubt not that Mr. Howard will see these things as clearly, and appreciate them as highly, as I do. So cheer up, my dear Susan, and instead of spending this weaning time from your child, in sombre forebodings, be grateful to a kind providence for giving her such a husband, and trust her confidingly to his care."

noisy nor mirthful; that it induces seriousness rather than gayety. Her husband was perfect in her eyes. True, he was rather grave for so young a man, and smiled but seldom; but when he did smile, it was like the breaking forth of a sun-beam-imparting light and gladness. But grave or otherwise, he was all that she wished him to be. Her respect for him equalled her love: both were entire. He treated her with a dignified tenderness, that left her nothing to ask.

But time knows no indulgence, not even to the most happy, who would gladly lay a finger on his flight, to lengthen the golden moments. The first months of wedded life soon haste away; fleeting months they are, and rush by to join the past eternity, and in their train come the cares, the duties, the trials, perchance, the miseries of life.

The youthful bride commenced her married life with a determination to please her husband in every thing-her deportment, her apparel and her housekeeping. About the first two, she felt no anxiety; that which had won, would certainly retain him; and she would be careful not to fall into that species of negligence, which but too often follows the marriage ceremony, and which is so well calculated to produce coldness, if not disgust. Her domestic arrangements were a more serious matter. She was but little more than eighteen, and though her education in this particular branch had not been neglected, she yet had lit tle skill in that department where experience is so important. She made many mistakes, and would have made many more, but for the near neighborhood of her mother, whom she frequently consulted, and whom she found better than twenty books on domestic economy. But Helen did her best, and hoped in time that that would become easy which was now so difficult. As before said, she resolved to please her husband in all things, and doubted not for an instant that he would be equally solicitous to please her. On one point, she anticipated a difference. Her parents had so plainly told her of her faults, and had labored so sedulously to correct them, that

she was conscious of being far from what she ought to be; consequently, her husband would have much to overlook and forgive; he, on the contrary, was so correct, so perfect, that she would have little or nothing to excuse. But he had loved her, and sought her for a wife, knowing her to be a very imperfect creature, and would not that love lead him to pardon all errors, the more readily, as they would not be wilful? Unquestionably it would.

With views and feelings and designs like these, Helen Howard began her married life; and she conformed to her plan as nearly, perhaps, as one's action ever conforms to one's resolution-one's practice to one's theory. True, she did not find herself always

"Sailing on a summer's sea,

When not a breadth of wind flies o'er its

surface."

Some of her cares were irksome, some of her self-denials not a little painful. She found Mr. Howard exceedingly particular. This, however, did not surprise her; it was what she had anticipated. How could one so perfect in all things— principles, manners, taste--fail of being particular? But then it made it difficult to please him; and oftentimes, she was in doubt whether the thing she decided to do, or the manner of doing it, would be agreeable to him or not. When possible, she always consulted him on points where she supposed he would have any choice, but frequently she was obliged to act, when to consult him was out of the question; and somehow, it seemed to Helen, that almost everything she did according to her own judgment or taste, was directly adverse to his.

She had not lived with her husband many months, before she learned that by a particular closing of his lips, she could tell when he was displeased. For herself, she was a child in feeling, mild in temper, gentle and fascinating in manner; and after she had become acquainted with the peculiarities of Mr. Howard's disposition, she would, in his moments of displeasure, twine her arms around his neck, ask for an explanation, confess her fault, and beg forgiveness. An affection

ate kiss from him would dissipate all her uneasiness, and lead to fresh efforts to please.

Mr. Howard did not always wait to have his displeasure or disapprobation detected. As time rolled on, and the bride was lost in the wife, he was not slow, very plainly to tell her when he saw aught amiss; but, the same process of reconciliation followed, and all was well again. Though Mr. Howard could blame, he never praised. He was of the opinion that praise is always injurious. He was not alone in that belief. Many persons seem to think, that even the most merited commendation must induce vanity and pride. Pity it is that some who have embraced this view, were not equally afraid of continual censure, or even of slander and detraction!

Let no one think, from the preceding picture, that Helen was an unhappy wife. She was far from it. No one could be unhappy who loved and respected a husband as she loved and respected Mr. Howard, and who doubted not that her affection was reciprocated. There were only occasional clouds that crossed the landscape, making the returning sunbeams seem still brighter.

Years as well as months glide away; and when Helen was four-and-twenty, she was the mother of a son, a daughter, and another son. In the meantime, she had suffered a severe affliction. Her mother had been taken away by death; but she lived long enough to have all her fears allayed as to her daughter's domestic felicity. She saw nothing, heard nothing to lead her to doubt that it was as perfect as could be expected in this imperfect world. Indeed, she knew not, that so far as connubial happiness was concerned, a cloud had ever passed over her daughter's path; and it was long ere Helen was aware, that the clouds were darker and more frequent,-the sunshine rarer, and of shorter continuance. It was by slow degrees she learned, that she must submit to her husband in everything. The spending an evening in a neighbor's house even the most trifling matter of taste, must be as much subjected to his control, as the most important transac

VOL. XXII.-2

tions of life. Helen cheerfully acknowledged her husband's supremacy. Her mother had taught her, and the Bible taught her, that authority belonged to him; that it was her duty, and would be for her happiness, to obey him in all things. Her affectionate heart prompted her to this course; but as she was a human being, she naturally had tastes and inclinations of her own, and these were not always, of course, in exact accordance with those of another. Sometimes, in case of collision, she could not help feeling, that if she yielded on all important points, Mr. Howard might occasionally yield in trifles. "If," she argued with a sigh, "he finds it so hard to conform to the wishes of another sometimes, why cannot he realize how difficult it is for me to do it always?" If the half-formed thought arose in her mind, that her husband was selfish, she instantly banished it. "Oh, no," she would say " he is not selfish! Men are used to authority, and are not aware what it oftentimes costs the subject. I suppose, on this point, they are all much alike." Perfect good nature, and an unwillingness to detract anything from the perfection with which she had invested Mr. Howard, led to this conclusion. Had Helen's own father entered her mind at that moment, she must have acknowledged, that between some men, there was a striking contrast.

With this, however, Helen could have got along very well. She had as little obstinacy as any of her species; and if, in the moment of trial, her heart would sometimes rebel, the feeling was soon gone, and she yielded with grace and cheerfulness. That which was much harder to bear, was, that as Mr. Howard grew older, it was more difficult to appease his displeasure; and sometimes, Helen would have to ask forgiveness, for some, perhaps very trifling, inadvertency, two or three times, before the kiss of cordial reconciliation would be granted. Beside this, she panted for commendation. From her own heart, it flowed spontaneously; and however strong Mr. Howard's objections might be to bestowing praise on another, he never manifes