TO THE GOSSAMER. BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. BEAUTIFUL Gossamer! cheerfully weaving I hear thy soft whisper of joys, yet beguiling I've roam'd through the forest, and welcomed Thy light silv'ry thread as it danced on the breeze; And sought 'midst the leaves for thy wreaths as a treasure, but dignified in the veiled grandeur of their character, as a class. Affliction, whether they feel it or not, elevates them in our eyes, and the unassuming simplicity that distinguishes beings so utterly helpless, presents them to us in an aspect so meek and affecting, that they cannot fail in gaining an immediate passport to the better part of our nature. In their patience they teach us both humility and fortitude. In their cheerfulness we may learn how easy is the task of being satisfied with our own condition. And in their blameless lives, how much depends the secret of controlling our passions, upon the necessity of looking less to the external actions of men, and more into our own hearts. The human face only is theirs; but though breaks not from the eye, it shines in the heart, the light which stamps it with the glory of divinity, otherwise is it that the habitual smile of a blind and emanates from the whole countenance. Why man is so ineffably radiant and serene? and why is it that it is habitual? Because the lustre of heart, communicate at all times to the features a pure mind, and the meekness of an inoffensive the beauty of the most lustrous eye without them, an expression of more touching grace than could THE SPEED OF TIME. W. C. FLY where we will, age will overtake us. Moments, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years,-pass away like a flitting cloud. If man must fade, so must woman. Beauty tarries not very long. Neither rouge, artificial ringlets, nor all the resources of the toilet, can retard the relentless progress of that terrible foe to beauty, Time. But every one must have noticed how lightly his hand rests upon some, how heavily upon others. Whenever you see in an old person a smooth unwrinkled forehead, a clear eye, and a pleasing cheerful expression, be sure her life has been passed in that comparative tranquillity of mind, which depends less upon outward vicissitudes than internal peace of mind. tion,-will confer on the greatest age a dignified beauty, in which youth is deficient. How sweet, how placid, how amiable, is the of beauty. Whenever we see pinched-up features, A good conscience is the greatest preservative disposition of the gentle blind! Though dark to external nature, how obvious are the evidences full of lines, and thin curling lips,we may judge of a serene spirit within them! Who ever knew of petty passions, envy, and ambition, which have their passions to flow in any other current than worn out their owner. High and noble thoughts that which was smooth, and calm, and peaceful? leave behind them noble and beautiful traces. On the countenances of those who have been Meanness of thought, and selfishness of feeling, early blind, or blind from their birth, are depicted league with Time to unite age and ugliness tonone of the deep or startling traces of crime-few gether. Fresh air, pure simple food, and exereven of the haggard furrows of care or suffering.cise, mental and bodily, with an elevated ambiGod seems in pity to have almost removed them from the contagion of human depravity, and if the glories of nature and the thousand inlets to enjoyment which they open are withheld from their hearts, so also are the innumerable temp tations which come in along with them. God, in depriving them of the good, has mercifully removed the corresponding evil; and as those temptations of life which would render sight necessary, are wisely kept back, so will it be found that a querulous perception of their loss, and an impatience under their condition, are not among the number of their afflictions. There is, to a man who can feel the philosophy of a humane heart, much that is not only touching There are many men and women, at sixty, younger in appearanee and feeling than others at and they are good company to the very last. forty. They are neither fidgetty nor fretful; and memory totters, then have we lost all that When once decay has seized upon the brain, renders life supportable, THE POETRY OF YOUTH AND AGE, "WHEN I am a man," is the poetry of Childhood. When I was young," is the poetry of Old Age. ANOTHER CHAPTER ON LITTLE CHILDREN. in dandling it on her arm, and being HE YOUNG of most animals are interesting. But, for interesting both eye and heart, there is NOTHING IN THIS WORLD equal to a rosy, giggling, curly-headed little child, arrived at that age when the mind begins to bud forth in accents of wonder and curiosity. There are people in the world, who "can't bear children." Whenever my reader meets with one of these child-haters, he may "write him down" as "wanting.". His heart is out of tune, as certainly as his eye is covered with the mist of surliness and ill-nature. some The greatest men of antiquity (generally speaking) have been fond of children. Some of the master-spirits of modern times are equally so. OURSELF for instance (!) WE positively doat upon children; and a late particular friend of ours once saw a venerable preacher, whom he pronounced to be the first orator he ever heard-rolling on the carpet of his study, with some of his children performing similar evolutions around him. Should the reader, therefore, happen to be a child hater, he will have the politeness not to read this essay. He will assuredly be unable to sympathise with any of its sentiments, and he will ridicule a picture of infantine scenes. According to the motherly custom which has descended from the days of Methuselah to the present most auspicious period, we are bound to admire every lady's "firstborn" when we have the happiness of beholding it perched on her arm, and incased in a tube of long clothes. "What an exquisite eye! What a sweet little nose! What a darling little chin! What a sweet, -what a beautiful baby!" A Now this is nothing but complimentary mummery. The babe has scarcely the look of actual existence as yet; and we might as well prate about the breathing graces of a clay model. At this age, the "babe" is interesting--but nothing like beautiful. nose, shaped like the knuckle-bone of a finger-pea-sized eyes winking against the light-a chubby head, with a crown like a warming-pan-and a round mouth, resem bling the glass peep-hole to a puppet show have nothing to do with "beauty." No allusion has been made to the complexion, which, as the most accomplished nurse must allow, at this time, very much resembles that of a tallow "dip.' Nevertheless, as before observed, the little creature is interesting; and Mamma is perfectly right * See Volume III., page 49. Vol. IV.-11. delighted to receive the baby-compliments of her friends, who, of course, never fail to find considerable likeness between its chin and that of the sire And as for the eyes, "there is the mother all over in them." Byron has an exquisite passage respecting the mother and her infant: The wife Blest into mother, in the innocent look, The age when a child is both interesting and beautiful, is mostly between three and four. It is now that the miniature of life begins to develop a definite trace of feature and of grace-that the eye is glassed with the young beam of intellect; and that the tongue, like a rapid stream, prattles away in voluble but indistinct utterance. Yonder, on a sunny slope, is a curly-pated urchin, frolicking about in the glittering grass-now chasing a butterfly, and now his own shadow; blowing a 'pussy-cat" in the air, and then lying on the grass, to eye the heavens, and wishing for a pleasant ride on the back of those dolphin-figured clouds! Let us call the chubby rogue to us, and survey his face and form.* 66 may Well, here he is, dressed in a Lilliputian surtout, which is girt with a belt, and looks quite warlike. The collar is open at the neck; and reveals the unconscious swell of a bosom, pure as the "unsunned snow." What juvenile nobleness-what an innocent hardihood there is on that white brow, where the wild ringlets dance about in clusters, like grape-bunches on a windy day! Upon its sleek surface, the veins be traced meandering along their course, and carrying, in their silky tubes, blood, fresh and vigorous as joy. Who shall describe that laughing pair of eyes? There is in them a glitter of pleasure and purity-a soft, confiding expression, rolling across their azure orbs-that no pen can picture. Who shall define their flash of astonishment, when the glories of Nature first open on their view? their timid glance of awe, when the ocean first heaves its myriad hillocks before ther? How truly beautiful are the lips of children! A host of smiles seems nestled there; and when they expand, and disclose the ivory array just peeping up behind themthere is something almost beyond expression playing around them. But if a stranger can find a pleasure in looking on the little por *I am of course treating of children dressed as they ought to be dressed. I speak not of the deformities of modern times-those abortive apologies" for human figures. M traiture of a man, what is the pure and deep delight of the mother when it is tripping along by her side, holding her finger and pouring out its pretty babble! How exquisite, to her eyes, is the dawn of mind, daily emerging, and developing itself in a thousand artless and importunate queries! And those who have not the happiness to be parents may imagine something of the feeling which glows through a father's bosom, when his child is standing between his knees, patting its tiny hands, shaking its ringlets, and lisping out sundry delicious impertinences. At these moments, how fondly he glances from the mother to the child, and then, in prophetic visions, beholds the future career of his darling boy! Alas! those visions are not unclouded. man. Anguish must riot in that guileless breast; many a tear must quiver down that cheek of purity, ere the boy shall ripen into the Still, the same viewless hand that has steered the father onward through life, may extend its guidance to the son. He may one day be a father, and, like himself, be musing on his merry-eyed boy! Hope brightens away the gloom of fancy, and the translated feelings of his heart, at this moment, are Hail to this teeming stage of life; Fountain of hopes, and doubts, and fears; Did my reader ever seat an infant on his knee, and tell to its delighted ear some marvellous tale? It is one of the loveliest sights in the world to mark the fixed attention of its eye, the drooping lip, and the pensive gravity of its manner; while the wondrous deeds of a giant-killer, or of some other tremendous personage that figures away in paint and print, are waking childish fancies into fears. By-the-bye, if mammas will condescend to take counsel in the flagellating department, an engaging story, in stormy or sullen hours, may very beneficially be substituted for that manual process which is so dishonorably affecting-so revolting to humanity! we have any real recollections of what we All The most important day that I can remember of my childhood, is that on which I was breeched. I perfectly recollect, that I thought myself as mighty a personage as the Emperor Fum himself. With what imperial glances I surveyed my little shapeless Tom Thumb body, now for the first time bagged in manly trousers. No lignum · vite peg-top, spun by a clever hand, ever reeled about in such a giddy delirium as I did this day! How magnificent was the middle row of glittering buttons on my waistcoat! What a fine thing it was, that I should be able to climb a knotty tree, and poke myself through a briary hedge without the awful sound of torn petticoats! I remember wellbeing called into the parlour, and turned almost topsy-turvy for the gratification of friends who were anxious to compliment me on my "first appearance" in breeches! I should like to see an able analysis of a baby's mind, if mind it may be called. It is a subject of considerable interest; and one that frequently leads to many absurd speculations about materialism. One thing seems evident that for a month after an infant's birth there is scarcely any mind in it. That which prompts its piping cry is mere instinct; and when the appetite is satisfied, it relapses into a dozing state, a senseless helplessness. It is almost on a level with an automaton. By degrees, however, the visage begins to clothe itself with the light of life. The eye appears capable of distinguishing an object, and betrays a consciousness of terror or delight; while the How indistinct and imperfect are our outstretched hand, together with a plaintive recollections of babyhood! When wail, explain its desire for an object.* At attempt to retrace the incidents of that last, the voice is enabled to vent itself in period, we lose ourselves in a maze of asso-words; the feet begin to walk; the memory ciations and remembrances. 'Tis like look- awakens; and something like a mind is dising from a mountain-top over the misty vale below. There are numberless objects before natural affections in all their purity and intensity, For the occasional development of the us; but they are only to be discovered in at a very early period of life-see an article enparts. We are dazzled with indistinctness; titled "A Child's Heart," in Volume III., and indeed it may almost be doubted whether we page 209. covered in the child. Thus mind and body seem intimately and mysteriously connected with each other. Time is requisite to ripen the former, and to strengthen the latter. Mimicry and curiosity are strongly exhibited in the habits of children. The imitative faculty is developed before articulation is perfect; and it might make a stoic smile to observe the puny but ardent efforts of an infant, to imitate any manual manœuvre it beholds while throned on the nurse's arms. When the infant has grown into the child, mimicry becomes stronger than ever. What presumption does a little rogue display on a rocking-horse! He has seen a picture of Wellington on his charger-and why should he not sit like him, when straddling on a painted piece of wood? Papa plays a popular air, to please his son, on the flute. Just leave that son, who is barely two feet high, in the room; and you will presently hear him sputtering away, and imitating "Pop goes the Weazel" in most laborious squeaks. all this, we may balance the daily improvement it occasions. It is highly interesting to watch a child anatomise a toy, push his pin-fingers into a flower, or examine the inside of a box of bells. How eagerly he scrutinises a stray button! How rapturously he unravels the wiry entrails of a pad, and (barbarous little knave!) dissects the villainous wasp that has just stung him! But, if you wish to feed his curiosity to the utmost if you do not regard a few pounds for enjoying the spectacle-give the child your watch, and tell him to serve it as he pleases. What a cunning spark will dance in his eyes at the sight of it! see with what joy he puts it to his ear-tick !-tick !-tick!-uncommonly strange! Where does that "tick come from? Presently, you will observe him in great trouble to uncover the lid-'tis done! See what rapture plays over the child's countenance, now the inside of the watch is bared to his view! His gaze of surprise would puzzle any painter of the day to represent it on his canvass. But, as I said before, you must not wonder if your watch is presently anatomised! benevolent mind, when he quoted to Dr. Fox gave an exquisite sample of his Parr, who frowned away two children from their innocent gambols 46 'Et puer es; nec te quicquam nisi ludere oportet; If there be any danger in imitating its elders, it generally happens that the child is the more anxious for rivalship. Nothing but the actual endurance of some pain or punishment will vanquish its self-will. What a grand sight it is to see a "GREAT BOY" divide a pop-gun stick into two parts by one cut! The child must mimic him. He obtains the knife and the stick-and chops half a finger off. But ere this, papa has displayed a pistol. What an admirable-engaged, heart and soul, at play. In truth what a delicious trick it will be, if his son (affectionately christened "Sly. boots") can pop one of those "funny things," the pistols! If papa has any brains, he will lock his pistols up, or he may be saluted with a leaden pill in his stomach on some inauspicious morning; or perhaps see his "darling William" meditating over "dear Emily," to whom he has unfortunately paid a similar compliment. Of childish curiosity, what might not be written! And how they puzzle us, too! They cannot see, in their innocence, why certain questions should not be asked; whilst WE, in our craftiness, see every reason why they should not be answered. The child "smells a rat," and soon becomes as cunning" as we are. Children, now-a-days, are tutored in deception from their very cradle; and are industriously taught that "innocence" is a vice. When we were young, we were told that we were "nobody." We believed it. Tell our children this, now! But curiosity, which is so strongly exemplified in children, ought rather to be encouraged than punished. Sometimes, it must be granted, curiosity leads to burnt thumbs, frizzled hair, and wet shoes. But, against it is a pretty spectacle. Indeed, we may get a glimpse of the future man by marking the child when he trundles his hoop, or giggles at a game at puss in the corner. The fearless tone of joy, the giddy laugh which hurries away on the breeze, or the undisguised frown of displeasure, and the clinched hand upraised-all are characteristics by which a spectator may venture to determine how the man would act; what energies he will reveal in pleasure or in woe. The It is a good omen, when a child plays with spirit and venturesome vigor. He will hereafter enter into the game of life with as much earnestness as he engages in a game of marbles. We all remember how a celebrated Grecian, when a boy, threw himself before an approaching wagon rather than have the marbles disturbed in the "pound." same dauntlessness marked his career to the grave. On this account, it is injudicious in parents to birch their children for mishaps which take place in the heat of play. They should not regard a few uncrowned hats, unseated trousers, or rent pin-befores. Children ought not to be brought up as if they were made of plaster-of-Paris, or as if a winter's gust would blow them to pieces. Let them be permitted to climb, ride, swim, 66 un and-fight (and bravely too), when their "honor" is in peril. A boy who will not doff his coat, and marshal his fists on such an occasion, will grow up a milk-livered man. I know that tender mothers will shake their heads at me for patronising infant pugilism; it is so "low"-so "dangerous"-80 genteel "-" teaches such bad habits.' This is all moonshine and vapor-worse than sour caudle. As if two little fellows, with fists about the size of walnuts, could do themselves any serious mischief! As if there were any evil in learning self-defence and the laws of honor! We have omitted an extremely pretty sight among the sports of children-a child at play with a kitten. The latter, I take it, is in itself a most poetical object, when pouncing on a fly, playing leap-frog with a sun-beam, or circling about and snapping at its own tail. But when accompanied by a little child, the unison of simplicity and friskiness is charmingly attractive. The kitten puts itself on an immediate equality with the child; bridges its dotted hack, whisks its tail, and paws and purs, and prances with the coyest playfulness imaginable. The child coops down before it with eyes in a glitter of delight, scratches the board with his finger, flickers a tempting slip of tape around its head, and, like Lesbia with her favorite cock-sparrow, primum digitum dare appetenti, Et acres solet incitare morsus. And this I maintain to be an extremely pretty spectacle. A few more lines touching a subject on which half the world are mad-and the remainder very little better; and this childish chapter shall be concluded. One of the most insensate plans in the rearing of children is that of harnessing them with the trammels of "education" before they can hardly distinguish their nose from their mouth. "Tis enough to make the child sick of the world, and die out of spite. Let this be altered, ye mammas of old England! Don't seek to place "old heads upon young shoulders." It will not do. The brain of a child must not be trifled with. Stuff it with a Babel fabric of modern science, and it will bend, perhaps break, beneath the weight. If your child must be a prodigy of wisdom, be it so. In later years, perhaps, the arena of its showing-off will be a lunatic asylum. Nature cannot be outraged without a high moral offence being committed. The sin will be visited heavily on the parent. Let children be children. Watch the bent of their minds. Treasure up everything that indicates their natural bias. But interfere not with their sports and harmless amusements. There is plenty of time yet for care to be placed upon these innocent brows; nor must those ruddy cheeks and laughing eyes be too soon rendered "thoughtful." Sorrow will come quite early enough; and bring with it its usual train of anxieties indescribable. The day is happily gone by, for children to be brought in after dinner to go through the Dale," &c. Let all other follies and sundry recitals of "Turn, gentle Hermit of Nature requires-nay insists upon it, that in "mistakes" become equally obsolete. infancy and childhood art must be dispensed with, if it be desired that our offspring should be "healthy." Therefore, good people, let C, till curiosity ask for it. Then will all go your bairns be "natural." Lay aside A B smoothly and safely. If we had fifty of these little "bread-andbutter innocents "-which Heaven forefend! all of them should go tumbling about in the bright-haired meads, revelling in gooseberries, currants, elicampane,—and laughing their very hearts out in an overflow of joy. Thus endeth this "Chapter on Little Children." |