settlement lay at a distance of five hundred miles. His spirits drooped under the vivid sense of his desolation and distress. Still, his confidence in the providence of God had not entirely forsaken him; and he recollected that, even in the wilderness, there was the stranger's friend. At this moment, the extraordinary beauty of a small moss, in flower, irresistibly caught the traveller's eye. The whole plant, he says, was not larger than the top of one of his fingers. He gazed with admiration upon the beautiful formation of the leaves. "Can that Being," thought Park, "who planted, watered, and brought to perfection, in this obscure part of the world, a thing which appears of so small importance, look with unconcern upon the situation and sufferings of creatures formed after his own image?" The thought kindled his dying energies, and revived his fainting spirit. He started up, pursued his journey, and in a short time arrived at a small village. What slight circumstance could be more beautiful than this? Let us now take an illustration of the shade. It has been remarked by philosophical writers, that the slightest annoyances in life are often the most painful. Ridicule stings more than injury. The Narrative of Humboldt may supply an illustration. "How comfortable must people be in the moon!" said a Saliva Indian to Father Gumilla; she looks so beautiful and so clear, that she must be free from moschettoes." We frequently hear exclamations of the same character in the walks of life. "Man never is, but always to be blest." Some slight change of situation or of employment would make us happy; and from the want of it we are miserable, and burn in perpetual It Wishing, that constant hectic of a fool. Slight Circumstances are our moschettoes. Christianity remedies this fretfulness of the mind. It cools that tingling irritability of feeling, which urges us into scenes of frivolity for the mere purpose of change. teaches us not only to endure the difficulties and annoyances that surround us, but to endure them with placid resignation. In whatsoever situation we may be placed, we are to be content. That one word carries a sermon within it. Let us, one and all, settle the matter by acknowledging the truth of the Poet's dic tum Whatever is, is right. The Creator never "made" the world with a view to its usurping His power. In wisdom were we created; by wisdom are we sustained; in wisdom is it ordained that our lives shall be extended just so long as shall be needful to accomplish some grand purpose. We are atoms in the scale of society; and form links in a chain which can never be broken till time shall be no more. If this be not "a happy way" of settling the question, we know not what is. VULGAR FESTIVITIES. HOW WE DO WISH THAT OUR PEN could work a reformation in the tastes of the people of England! With few exceptions, they see more delight in the pestilential fumes of tobacco, "qualified" by beer and spirits, than in all the glories of nature unfolding from day to day in the fields and hedge-rows. We speak not exclusively of the lower orders; but of those who, from their position in the world, ought to know better and set a better example. The lovely air of heaven is everywhere poisoned at this season. Gardens are converted into pot-houses-the public highways are polluted our youth are little better than skunks. You may nose them half a mile off. Of course, the lower orders must "imitate " their superiors; and therefore is it that during the holiday season so much debauchery prevails. Mirth is good, and we love dearly to witness country festivities. But, as our contemporary, the Times, justly remarks, "it is indeed a sorry business when the British people has it in mind to be festive! As though bewildered at the very thought of twenty-four hours' absolution from toil, the artisan betakes himself to strongest beer to nerve his frame for the contrast, and inspires fumes of blackest tobacco to dim his perception as to the difficulties of his position; and to this beclouded and frenzied condition of their supporters do the caterers of holiday amusement address themselves. In no country in the world is so little art employed, so little invention exerted, such obstinate attachment to worn-out routine, as among our show people. All is coarse, supremely silly, or simply disgusting. There is no genuine mirth, no healthy expansion of the spirits. Riot and low debauchery are its substitutes."-We hold to our belief that all this arises from the influence of bad example. If "gentlemen" will make chimnies of their noses, volcanoes of their throats, and spirit-vats of their stomachs, it is really no matter for wonder if the lower classes do the same. When will the fashion for smoking, drinking, and (it is no use mincing the word) spitting, go out? These have surely ranked long enough amongst our -" modern accomplishments!" THE FORCE OF EXAMPLE. EXAMPLE is a living law, whose sway Men more than all the written laws obey. only joy, The hope of future happiness, her own,―her darling boy. The days of infancy had pass'd, the years of childhood fled; And oft his merry voice recall'd the memory of the dead. He wore his father's happy smile; his flowing auburn hair Fell richly on his bonny brow, yet innocent and fair; And in the fulness of her heart the widow gazed with pride, And pictured scenes of pleasure with the darling at her side. Yes, truly did she love him; she bless'd him every hour, She press'd him to her bosom, and call'd him Scotland's flower." But now the hapless time arrived when he must quit his home, To seek employment; and perchance, o'er distant lands to roam. And oh what heartfelt sorrow the widow'd mother felt! And tears of bitter anguish fell o'er him as he knelt. But children little know the grief that rends a parent's heart, The sorrow, agony, and care, when fortune bids them part: The anxious thoughts that fill their breast, the hopes, the doubts, the fears; The dreary days, the sleepless nights, the bitter, bitter tears. Ye who have parents! honor them; guard them with tender care, Or God will surely visit you with sorrow and despair! The widow's home was now bereft of every earthly joy, Weeks, months, years pass'd; and still there came no tidings of her boy. Sometimes a sad presentiment of fear would fill her breast, Then Hope again would smile and lull those anxious doubts to rest. At length worn out with watching, with grief and hope deferr'd, And pondering on his silence-the postman's step is heard. She seized the letter with delight; she kissed it o'er and o'er; She press'd it to her bosom, and hop'd to weep no more. But why that start-that frenzied look? why are her cheeks so pale? It is indeed a letter from her son in Newport Jail! Oh God protect the widow, some consolation send; In the sad hour of sorrow, oh be to her a friend! In a close cell unbless'd by light, scarcely admitting air, Sentenced to transportation, on bread and water fare, Pale, fetter'd, and in prison garb,-behold the widow's son; But who is she who meekly cries-"God's holy will be done!" It is his mother, but how changed! exhausted, pale with care, Without a penny in the world, oh, judge her deep despair! Yes she had travell'd, and on foot, without a friend or guide, More than five hundred dreary miles,-forgetting all beside The noble deed she had in view, braving all toil and pain; Alike regardless of fatigue, wind, tempest, hail, or the way, Two or three boil'd potatoes, with a bit of salt a day, Was all she had,—and to procure herself a decent rest, She sold her clothes (poor creature!) it was all that she possess'd With the exception of a dearly valued relic. Yes; Driven by penury and pain, despair and wretchedness, Bow'd down with hardships she endur'd on the rough road she trod, This, this she resolutely kept; it was "the Word of God," For her poor erring child! And though her eyes with tears were dim She read the Sacred Word of Truth, to cheer and DOMESTIC TOPICS. MISTRESSES AND SERVANTS. (Continued from Page 136.) IT CANNOT BE A MATTER FOR SURPRISE that the remarks of our valued correspondent, "FORESTIERA," in connection with our own on this subject, should have brought us an overwhelming number of communications. The evil we attempted to fathom, and for which we could propose no efficient remedy, is acknowledged from one end of the country to the other We live-not for ourselves, but for our servants. We are at least, to a fearful extent, in their power. We took so complete a review of the relative position existing between the mistress and her servants in a former number of our JOURNAL, that we need not go over that ground again. The justness and fairness of our observations has been universally admitted; so that, if we were to give publicity to a tenth part of the letters received, it would burden our columns, without adding one new fact. Yet have we a pleasing duty to perform, and one for which we were not altogether unprepared. Among the mass of letters which have come to hand, are some which speak loudly, eloquently, kindly-aye, and not a few affectionately, of the domestics living in the families whose mistresses have addressed us.* Residing, for the most part, far away from great cities, and buried in the bosom of the country, people cannot understand what is said about the wickedness of servants generally. It appears incredible. This is a happy ignorance which we admire. It is most terrible, to be compelled to believe what daily comes under our eye. Human nature shudders at it; but we record facts as we find them. It is well known that an infected sheep will spread contagion through a whole flock. Equally true is it that evil-disposed servants, by constant contact, make each other as bad as it is possible to be. With rare exceptions, good and virtuous servants are unknown in great cities and their vicinities. As we have before said, there is a menial chain that binds them together; by the aid of which, as by an electric wire, they hold uninterrupted communication, and share largely in "family secrets" which never could become publicly known excepting through such a channel. We all know this but too well; and yet are totally unable to prevent it. But to return. As we have carried out the wishes of the writers, in this article, they will not feel aggrieved by their favors not appearing in print. We have let one speak for the rest.-ED. K. J. The letters we allude to speak of domestics, male and female, who have lived in one and the same family for a period of years, num. bering from five to forty. Their long service has made them (very properly) part and parcel of the household. They are treated not only with respect, but with kindness and consideration. Their morals are cared for, their health and comfort are studied, and their happiness is secured. The natural (let us harp upon this) consequence, is-that duty becomes pleasure. The master, mistress, and family are loved, not feared. There is but one interest in common. If the house were left in charge of domestics so treated, it would be perfectly safe. No anxiety need be occasioned even by a prolonged absence. All this is the necessary consequence of kindness. Her Among our correspondents is a lady, residing some 200 miles from London, who signs herself "a Clergyman's Wife." observations quite charm us; she regards the world as we do, made for the enjoyment of all. She is no advocate for undue freedoms; believing, as we do, that servants properly treated would know well how to behave themselves without requiring to be constantly reminded of it. The heart is what we want to work upon. That gained, every thing else becomes secondary. She We find in this letter of "a Clergyman's Wife" some very sensible remarks. quite agrees with us as to the danger of contact" where a servant is radically bad. She also fairly assumes that " contact," where a servant is good, possesses equal power. "To the influence of our old and faithful servants," she says, "I attribute the comfort we have had in the younger ones. If the example thus set by the heads of the lower house be so far beneficial in its result, how much greater must the effect produced on the younger servants be, by their observation of the manners and example of their master and mistress?" This is sound argument. Again, "Do we not daily see the habits, thoughts, and feelings of the parlor reflected in the kitchen; also the gait, bearing, dress, &c. of the different members of the family? A friend of mine observes, that she can generally tell the reception that awaits her in the drawing-room of any family, by the manner in which she is received by the domestics at the door." There is something about this that pleases us vastly. We know it to be true. We have remarked it often. Our correspondent goes into some detail on these subjects; and the more we follow her in her remarks, the more we admire the moral feeling that actuates all she says. She does not, as is the all-but-universal practice, look down with supreme contempt upon all who are of a rank inferior to her own. As a responsible being, she evidently considers herself answerable for the well-being of her household. Hers is a labor of love as well as duty. She asks, very pertinently, "What qualities are most sought after, by mistresses wanting servants? Do they make any inquiry about their principles, or moral aptitude for the places they are required to fill? Do they not rather ask,-if they have been used to gentility (dreadful word!) nice appearance, and good manners? This generally, is all that is cared for." Our correspondent speaks the simple truth. Our limited space forbids us to follow this amiable" Clergyman's Wife" through all her excellent reasonings. It is evident that her servants (seven in number), love and esteem her. She records many pleasing traits in their respective characters, that interest us greatly, and we are quite willing to believe that in this country there are, as she says, many families equally blessed with good servants. But, we ask, who and what made them good servants? Was it not all brought about by kindness and consideration on the part of the family? The letters now before us confirm the truth of our suspicion. If we would set a good example, most assuredly that example would be followed; and, as a necessary consequence, we should be beloved. "Beloved by a domestic!" we hear some say; "how truly horrible!" Is it indeed? We cannot see it. One thing our country friends must bear in mind and that is, the immeasurable distance which is preserved in London between families and their domestics. With few exceptions, they are not considered as being worthy of notice. Beyond the prescribed duties they are called upon to perform, nothing more is expected from them. If they are ill, there is no sympathy; if they are in trouble, there is no aid. They are recognised as mere machines. They neither care for the family they live with, nor the family for them. Hence, the never-ceasing changes, which the frightfully long list of advertisements in the Times newspaper confirms daily. We frequently encounter some of these wandering adventurers, and wonder how and where they contrive to get places. For ourself, we are quite one of the old school. We delight in being respected by all who are associated with us, either in high or low degree. We could not be happy, and see the latter unhappy. We could not abound, and let them want. We could not see them suffer from illness, and fail to inquire how they fared from day to day (high treason this ); neither could we dare to spurn them as creatures beneath our notice. Oh, no! such disgusting, unjustifiable pride reigns not in our breast. As regards our own observation, we know and visit several families wherein servants have lived happily for nearly thirty years; and there is every prospect of their keeping their situations.* Their good-natured recognition of us is very gratifying.We read their thoughts in their happy, smiling countenances; and we take care to let them read ours. Much do we pity those, whose scorn and contempt trample under foot all these natural feelings. They are a numerous class truly; and no doubt they ridicule our vulgar notions. But the censure of such men is praise. We have now, with all consistent brevity, attempted to do honor to the "exceptions that have been brought before us, with reference to domestic servants. We have received evidence that among the mass there are some excellent specimens of humanity. All honor be to them; and to the kind noble-hearted heads of families who have made them what they are, and who glory in setting their merits forth. We may be severe, but let us ever be accounted just. *Our memory pleasingly supplies instances not a few, when, about twenty-five years since, things were much better ordered than they are now-ex. gr. Well do we remember walking over to breakfast (this we often did, for we were ever a very early riser) with a delightful family, at that time residing some ten miles from town. WHO was the first to anticipate our arrival? Polly." This kind-hearted domestic, when she opened the door to us, greeted us with a smile that we shall never forget. Had this been wanting, we positively should not have felt "happy." Polly had lived in this family many years; and she would most probably pered in her ear (she was a pretty girl), nudged have died in their service, had not Cupid whisher elbow, and suggested that "two heads were better than one." which she would trip off to announce our arrivalThe good-nature, too, with this was refreshing after a long walk. How dif ferent are modern observances! Matrimony, however, changed neither her affection for her dear mistress, sons, and daughters--nor did it abate, one jot, their kind concern for her welfare. On the contrary, she was allowed to visit the house as usual; and was always received with the frank welcome which true honesty and faithful zeal demand. This is one instance out of many which we feel pleased to record. It reflects honor on that "happy family." It affords encouragement for others to follow "Polly's" example. Kindness made her a good servant; nor did she ever take advantage of the position she held in the household. WHAT IS LOGIC? instruments, and many more that are superfluous. LOGIC is a large drawer; containing some useful But a wise man will look into it for two purposesto avail himself of those instruments that are really useful, and to admire the ingenuity with which those that are not so are assorted and arranged. Maiden! by that peerless brow, And the rose-wreaths round it cast- By those dove-like eyes of blue, By each deep and burning line That wooed and won that heart of thine, By those vanished hours of love, By the flow'r'ts that once were mine, THE DRESSMAKERS OF LONDON. THERE ARE but few of us who are unversed in the nature and occupation of this large class of industrious bees, who toil so in their badly ventilated hives to minister to the caprices of women of fashion. Neither are we ignorant of the low rate of remuneration they receive,nor of the indirect means whereby they are compelled to obtain a livelihoodmany of them having sick parents to support, and brothers and sisters looking up to them for bread. Of late this subject has been debated; but we fear little good has resulted from it. People of fashion have no heart, and would consider it infra dig. to lend an ear to cries of distress proceeding from a dressmaker-the vulgar wretch! In our FIRST VOLUME, we quoted some remarks of the Countess of Blessington on the subject, which did honor to her heart and to her pen. But alas! her words, like ours, may be read by the votaries of fashion, and that is all. They can make no impression on iron and stone. Let us, however, again listen to what the Countess has further to say about our dressmakers. OUR readers have hearts-so we'll e'en draw our bow at a venture: What shall I say about our dressmakers and plain work-women? Do they not require some little fresh air to recruit their exhausted frames? Yes, they do; but they are of course denied it! Oh! would the high and noble dames, for the adornment of whose persons these poor creatures toil through the weary day, and not unfrequently through the long night, but reflect at how dear a price the graceful robe that displays the elegance of their forms so well, is obtained! They would then, let us hope, combine together, and resolve to use their all-powerful influence to change a system intro luced through the desire of meeting the unreasonable demands for dresses to be made up at notices too short to admit of their being finished, except by the sacrifice of the sleep of those who work at them. Could they behold the heavy eyes, the pallid cheeks, the attenuated frames, and care-worn brows of the poor workers on the robes to be made in a few hours, their consciences surely would be lightened of the weight of their having, for the gratification of their vanity, exacted that which could only be accomplished at so heavy a penalty to the maker. All Englishwomen are not unfeeling-they are only sometimes forgetful. The fair creature whose delicate throat is encircled by Oriental pearls, thinks not of the risk of those who dive beneath the wave to seize the costly gems. Could she but witness the operation, how would she tremble! nay, we are not sure that even the warmest admirer of pearls would not thenceforth abjure them. So, when ladies see themselves attired in becoming robes, they reflect not on the weary hours of toil the manufacture of them has occasioned. If they did, and we earnestly hope they will, they would soon do all in their power to lighten the labor, and to ameliorate the condition, of the dressmaker. The heart that uttered these sentiments was an amiable one. But it was a heart that knew little of human nature. Not even an angel from Heaven-unless commissioned by the God of angels, could ever work upon the better feelings of a woman of fashion. Why? Simply because they have no heart. They consider the world, and all that is in it, to be theirs by right; and no argument could loosen that idea. EARLY RISING. IF you would be" happy," quit the pillow at day-break. Then, if ever, are the thoughts pure and holy; and the mind is open to soft, amiable impressions. The country is so calmly beautiful in the morning, that it seems rather to belong to the world of dreams which we have just quittedto be some paradise which suffering care cannot enter than to form a portion of a busy and anxious world, in which even the very flowers must share in decay and death. |