Thus far having within her grasp all the constituents of earthly bliss, was bliss her heritage? Listen to her soliloquy when on the eve of marriage: "Do I exact too much from the ideal ever to find happiness? Hope! fair is thy form to the vision of youth and inexperi

ever in the dim distance, is the goal of contentment and joy to which thou dost direct my steps. Thus far with thee I have journeyed, and thou hast ever mocked me. On, deceiver! I will follow thee still!"

CHARACTER, as it is revealed upon the page of his-ence-meet are thy tones of promise. Lovely, but tory, should be made a subject of serious study. Much can be learned from personal observation on men and things, but much more from the chronicles of the past-from the characters of sages and heroes that have stamped their own signature upon the age in which they lived.

Mark the contrast. Miss Susannah Annesly, commanding in appearance, attractive in manners, with talents of a high order, and correspondent opportunities of improvement, moved the admired, the beloved of all hearts, but not in crowded halls, at the gay festival or the soiree. She did not aspire to

"Shine in the box, or sparkle in the ring."

By comparison and contrast, we learn the disparity between objects presented to the senses or to the mind, with their relative value. Things are great and small according to the standard by which they are measured. If our scale of measurement is narrower or less extended than eternity, our estimate will be false. The||She had learned to look upon herself and all her assomaterialist would view a crown as an absolute blessing, and a prison as an absolute curse. But with a line reaching far onward to eternity, who would be slow to prefer the prison of a Paul and Silas to the crown of the mighty Cæsars?

ciations in the unclouded light of eternity. Conversant with the works of uninspired genius, she turned to her Bible as the book of books, and consecrated her acquisitions at the cross of Jesus, convinced that all the world calls good and great cannot satisfy the desires Outward condition does not produce either happiness of a soul formed for immortality. Had she peace of or misery. Beneath the glitter of human greatness is mind? Hear her, in her retirement, conversing without often concealed an arrow that drinks up the spirit. "A disguise with Him who knows the heart: "To know showy exterior frequently covers poverty at heart, while God as a philosopher-to be able to demonstrate his the smile that curves the lip of beauty may be but the being from all or any of the works of nature will avail mockery of joy." Separate from a heart and life con-us nothing unless at the same time we know him exformed to those principles of eternal truth, which form perimentally-unless the heart know him to be its suthe ground of our relationship to God in the economy preme good-unless it acknowledge that there is no reof redemption, under all and any circumstances, hap- pose, no peace, no joy, but in loving and being beloved piness is but a name. by him, and does accordingly rest in him, as the centre of its being, the fountain of its pleasures, its light, its life, its strength, its all. Thus let me ever know thee, O, my God!"

After the interests of Margaret became identified with those of Henry VI., of England, she was doomed to experience many deep and sad reverses. Hers had been a bright and cloudless morning. She was the flattered-the caressed-the admired. Yet happiness came not. She expected to find it in connection with a crown and kingdom; but how deeply was she deceived! In a few years competition for the crown, between Henry VI., and Richard, Duke of York, rendered her life, as the wife of the former, one of inquietude and sorrow. The incapacity of Henry roused this spirited

Corroborative of this, let us glance for a moment at the character of two distinguished females-Margaret of Anjou, daughter of the titular King of Naples, and Duke of Lorraine, and Mrs. Susannah Wesley, daughter of Samuel Annesly, LL. D., and mother of John Wesley. These personages did not occupy the same rank and station, but they stand forth equally pre-eminent in the realm of mind. To each nature had been lavish of her choicest gifts-magnanimous in spirit, patient to suffer, self-possessed and confident in hope. Alike they were tossed and driven upon the billowy tide of adversity, the one without chart, compass, or any port in view, while the other, amidst the gathering clouds beheld a guiding Star, which threw its radiance upon the darkness, and pointed to a haven. Let us fol-woman to avenge his cause, and support, if possible, low them from the commencement of their career to its close, and draw from thence lessons of deep instruction. Margaret of Anjou is said, by historians, to have been a most accomplished and noble spirited woman, comely and graceful in person and in manners, possessed of a highly gifted intellect, with superior advantages for education, useful and ornamental. In the domicil of her royal father the morning of her life passed like a "tranquil stream gliding through sunshine and flowers," until the announcement of her entree into the world of fashion, after which she became the centre of the brilliant circle in which she moved.

the regal authority. With unshaken firmness of mind does she struggle against wayward fortune, determined, at the expense of every thing else, to retain a glittering crown. Time and again does she levy armies, twenty, forty, and sometimes sixty thousand strong, and enter the battle-field, leading the way in person, to victory, or to death, urging her followers never to give up the contest. Again she is vanquished. Again she leads forth her army victorious, amidst the adulation of the crowd. And what is passing in the sanctuary of her own heart? Go to her palace, and learn her real sentiments. Sitting in pensive attitude, gazing with sad

says,

heart upon the beauties of an autumnal evening, she || kingdom passed into the hands of her enemies; and when "Welcome this twilight hour, after the feverish sent a prisoner to the Tower of London, the Prince of anxiety of this eventful day! Would that I could lie | Wales, her noble-hearted boy, stricken and bleeding at down, like a tired child, to sleep! but, no

'She, like the world, her ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles-the wretched she forsakes.'

the feet of his enemies, her husband writhing with the dagger in his breast fresh from the hand of the assassin, that intrepid spirit, steeled to misery amidst the din The world may think that fortune smiled to-day on of battle and the groans of the dying, began to quail me; but in my mingled lot of life I find no verdant and tremble beneath a combination of influences, that spot, no happiness! But, O, omnia mihi tempora sunt | cast the dye of so rigorous a destiny. Succeeding misera!"—all are to me periods of sorrow. years were passed in exile-in solitude-in sorrow! The views and feelings of Miss Annesly, though of And at the termination of her stormy life, when the high birth and parentage, were such that the empty pa- dark angel hovered, with noiseless wing, about the geantry of rank and station never employed her mind as couch of pain, hers would have been comparatively an things to be desired. She entered upon the high re-enviable position, could she have ascended by faith sponsibilities of the conjugal relation, aspiring only to from the "visible to the unseen," and realized for herbe serviceable in her allotted sphere. "What," said || self that life hath its second spring-time, where the skies she, "is the world, with all it esteems great, and good,|| are never clouded. But alas! hope fled, and left her and fair, compared to the favor of Heaven? It is not in shadowless despair! in wealth, honor, or earthly pleasure, to confer lasting good. There is none but Christ who is sufficient for these things."

As Mrs. Wesley descended into the vale of years, her prospects for the present life became much more cheering. The tempestuous noon-day was succeeded After she became the wife of Mr. Samuel Wesley, by a tranquil evening; nor did she forget, in its pleasas a family, for reasons inscrutable to human vision, ant sunlight, where she had found a refuge in the storm. they were called to pass through the water and through|| The family became distinguished, previous to her dethe fire. All, we presume, are familiar with their deep parture; but the world-its smiles as well as frowns, and numerous afflictions; and what woman, of whom she cast beneath her feet. The fervent, continual aswe have any knowledge among the living, ever adorn-piration of her heart was, "Whom have I in heaven ed, like her, the vale of adversity? Mark her triumph || but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire bein the day of trouble. In a letter to her brother, of side thee!" And when at last she came to tread the which her biographer says a more genuine picture of valley of death, she carried within the soul the light of sanctified affliction was never presented to the world, salvation. All was peace and holy triumph; and her she says: "I sometimes think, were it not on account last request was, "Children, as soon as I am released, of Mr. Wesley and the children, it would be perfectly sing a psalm of praise to God." indifferent to my soul whether it ascend to the supreme Origin of being from a jail or a palace; for God is everywhere. No walls, or locks, or bars, nor deepest shade, nor closest solitude, exclude his presence; and in what place soever he vouchsafes to manifest himself, that place is heaven. And they who enjoy the manifestation of God's blissful presence, are happy, let their outward condition be what it may. They are rich, as having nothing, yet possessing all things. This world is but for a time; nor will it signify who personated the prince or the beggar, since, with respect to the exterior, all must stand on the same level after death."

Thus we finish the picture. Much more might be said of each. I might speak of them as mothers, having committed to their guidance and guardianship intellectual being in its state of early pliancy, when the heart is as "wax to be impressed, but like marble to retain." Suffice it to say, while on the one hand the result is seen in an expiring child, the victim of mother's misguided ambition, the pious influence of the other is still "visible-still controlling."

How much one branch of the Church is indebted to her as the mother of its venerable founder, eternity alone will reveal. We might dwell, too, upon her Enumerating one calamity after another, she con- manifest superiority of character, actuated as she was tinues, “But even in this low ebb of fortune, I am not by the noble incentive of obedience to the Divine law; without some lucid intervals. Unspeakable are the and upon the defective nature of human felicity, and blessings of privacy and leisure, when the mind emer- the feebleness of all earthly props in the hour of trouges from the corrupt animality to which she is united, ble-of disconcerted schemes, and baffled expectations. and by a flight peculiar to her nature soars beyond the Suffice to say, doomed as we are to survive the pleasbounds of time and place, in contemplation of the in- ures and splendors of earth and time, we know it is not visible Supreme, whom she perceives to be her only for us to pay our homage here, but rather to bow behappiness-her proper centre-in whom she finds re-neath the hallowed cross, embrace its mysteries, feel its pose inexplicable—such as the world can neither give power, and ascend to heaven.

nor take away!"

Let us again refer to the royal Margaret. Once more she prepared to strike a decisive blow for the crown. She commanded her army in person, leading her son through the ranks. But all was in vain. The VOL. I.-44

"NONE are so fond of secrets, as those who do not intend to keep them: such persons covet secrets, as a spend-thrift covets money, for circulation."

PREROGATIVES OF FEMALES.

Original.

EXCESS.

EXCESS.

347

never needed to occur. And no proportion of damage does occur at all commensurate to the mighty machinery itself. The whole exhibition is doubtless within our planet, and is presented with its partial mischiefs to precisely the eyes that do behold it. Will we not, then, be solemnized? The loss of life that occurs in these accessions of force we are accustomed to consider as

THERE is no greater teaching in the whole of God's providence to man, than may be found in the law of excess. From the simplest process, whether animal, mental, or moral, the bearing of this law is equally salutary as a study, and equally imperative on its object. I might perhaps have taken up my subject in its oppo-"accidental," as "unfortunate," happenings, &c.; and site of moderation, or morally, of discretion. But as in its course it is naturally excursive and widening, so in this way I more easily follow it out in its very largest, both of scope and bearing, in all that it contemplates.

ance.

yet are we not told that "not a sparrow falls to the ground without his knowledge?" Let survivors take the admonition to spiritual preparation, "for we know not in what day and hour he cometh." Let us not view the catastrophe only, but the cause. It was the The idea is one not only of infinite magnitude, but purifying process only which we witnessed, but by a also of great solemnity and reverence, as being an ordi- known law this happening of excess in its issues was nance of God the Creator; and considering its impor- death. Will we not then make the application? We tance as a guard and a beacon, no less awful than as if are not disregardful that the physical elements of man, we could behold the very pillars of earth itself, as ex- being "dust of the dust," are subject to the same laws tending and made fast in the heavens for the assurance of disturbance, commotion, violence and excess, as are and support of its habitant. Physically, and apart from the same elements under other forms of organization, man, the earth itself is fashioned and made firm, or at in other spheres of being. We can also look on and least regular in its rotation, its times and seasons, for know, that whenever and wherever undue action in one man's abode, "with all things richly to enjoy" during agent takes place, producing loss, immediately does some that portion of his existence allotted to him here. The opposing agent array its battery full against the weakearth, I have said, is itself a teaching, to the sufficient ened party; producing wild war, and waste, and havoc, apprehension of its tenant; that is, its "tenant at large," and destruction-destruction in the particular, in the man. A planet revolving in open space, yet poised and large-order. But what in one field of God's creation balanced, and obeying a law as grand as it is precise; is unconscious and irresponsible, except to its own rightso that in tens of millions of years, amidst the myriads ing and accordance, in another order is not innocent, of planetary powers, not one exceeds, or interferes, or but of conscious and self-knowing perversion. And falls short of the mighty influence afforded and receiv- this order is man, possessing along with his physical ed, which the master hand prescribed to each as the elements the incarnated spirit of truth-a soul; renderlaw of its being, and which He for ever holds in bal- ing to him by the alliance, a larger taste of good, and This view is ascertained to the astronomer, and all the possibilities of winning on to higher fruition of assured to the man. Its best use is not of science, but joy, happiness, beatitude, on the one condition of order of gratitude; its best contemplation, not of itself, but preserved. All his volitions, his tendencies, all his deof God. Our planet, at a velocity of millions of miles sirings are for happiness. What hindering power, then, per minute, to suit its external relations amongst the what fearful agency, prevents him of the good which stars in illimitable space, is no less nicely calculated he would choose, and which God awards him? It is and adapted to its specific purpose as a world for us. disobedience to God-it is the violation of reason, the The elements of respiration, of light and heat and mois-outraging of nature in all her humanities—it is all-deture, of known and unknown agencies, all contribute vouring passion-it is excess. He has exhausted his and minister to man. In just proportion they keep means, and squandered his life, before he had achieved him sane and sound; his soul, his heart, his mind, his or was ripe for the harvest. "Behold, the fool shall body, are all cared for-all provided for: all this in the die in the midst of his days"-and this is the univer regular order of providence. But mark-some excess sal law applicable to every stage of our being. Take shall be exhibited amidst the elements of this fabric, the new-born babe, a lump of life, a mere physical enand how it perils man. The volcano, the tornado, the tity, but well shielded by nature; yet is he amenable to over-surging sea which we witness, are no more put this law. Does his nurse over-dose or over-cram him, upon us as engines of destruction, than they are pre- how instant is his suffering-how apparent is the revulsented to us as signs of certain disorder, suited to our sion of nature. The same thing in childhood, in adoterrified apprehensions as admonitions, as shewings lescence, in all the stages of physical life. But let us forth, as judgments in time, as warnings to repent us take a more elevated range-take the youth in his moral and flee from the wrath to come. They are given to being, in his accession of life, his aptitude to passion us as the signs of the times, and also do they afford a and to extremes. We acknowledge that before this, study that we can hardly disregard, upon the law of many mischiefs have accrued from vanities indulged, excess-a law which applies to us in all the phases of and from evil dispositions unregarded, and from all the our being. Amidst the combustion, this uprooting of possible besetments of Satan, even in the heart of childworlds, as it were, doubtless the disorder was not at all hood. But not so signal is the conquest, not so fearful necessary to the agents themselves; and essentially, the reaction, as in the towering, saucy, unrebuked, and

all-desiring hour of coming youth. Take one, perhaps, || Too much indulgence in childhood at home, gives to to whom fortune caters, with opportunity and means the youth and the man abroad, the appalling aspect of and parasites around-but not one friend! Where does that youth with whip and spur and goad, where does he tend for? What's the goal! Pleasure is the lure; he tends for all excess, but the goal-is death! Ah! woe to those who own him. By the law of selfdestroying excess, by immutable necessity he finishes his course in the middle of life—he is old and decrepid at the meridian hour.

hostility in all that he meets. The mere indifference of the world is accounted as unfriendliness; and its accidental collisions as arrayed in direct assault to him, only because he was not especially respected as had been his wont at home. Do we call him weak for this misapprehension of things? Do we blame his overweening selfishness? No; he is the victim of mistake: for the habits of his whole life had made into

We pity him, that at every turn he suffers the re-action of that law of excess which always rights itself, in measure or in mode-which yet a thousand shall behold, but hardly one be wiser for, except by the bitterness of experience-the goading of remorse in the tender sense of a parent's heart.

Man is not a machine of one purpose, like a locomo-him as a rule and a law that all should bend to him. tive or a steam-mill; he is multiform by nature, and each gift is sanative of each, of spirit, body, mind, if neither one shall overgo the other. But the disciple of pleasure in his career, goes on as if he had but one motive and one purpose-the gratification of sensual life. He effects that, perhaps, and all other possibilities are merged in it, By too much tension he snaps the thread of life; and of such an one we can say, "He is dead," and there is no more of him.

on and on, but it is not his own course! for the proud is tending, by the fiat of God, to an eminence of pride; but it is the "pride which goeth before a fall." And so of all the rest.

Should we take the items separately to which our subject applies, we could enlarge ad infinitum. See the self-seeking, the arrogant of heart. His purpose is It is not to immediate and fatal issue alone that ani- the one object of life. His fellows are nothing-he is madversion is demanded for our subject; for in its pro-all in all. But behold—he encroaches too far-he goes gress and career its mischiefs are most extensively felt in man's relation to man. If we go a little more into detail, we shall see that it is not at the hour of crisis and peril alone that nature cries out, Save! save! but for ever and all along may her voice be heard by him Ah, yes-all! Behold a nation in perplexity— who heeds it. The pursuit itself, however innocent, mourning and cast low. The reprobation of God is if inordinately followed, shall incur the penalty of ex-upon her. She hath sinned, again and yet more; in cess. The aspirant for fame and for the sympathies of her pride she hath disregarded of admonition, of longthe refined the poor, self-denying student of sixteen suffering and forbearance. She hath been self-suffihours the day, equally with the obdurated, the extor-cient; she hath departed from her simplicity; she hath tionate, the close-fisted disciple of mammon, ministering" found out many inventions;" but her day hath comein the chamber of justice, shall meet a penal justice in she is humbled. In sackcloth and ashes she mournthe over-much of application. The one and the other eth. Behold, hath she not sinned the sin of all excess. are held in abeyance to the law of human intellect, which says, "So far shalt thou go, and no farther." Its ratiocination should assume proudly to say, "It is of mind; how can mind tire?" But deplorably does it find itself subject to the same law of exhaustion as the over-labored draft-horse, which at night-fall may be seen dragging its reluctant steps, even to the springs of fresh water.

The rapt sculptor, whilst chiseling the form of beauty, in his devotion and his self-forgetfulness, has been throwing dust upon his own head. In his work he has fashioned to himself an apotheosis to fame, unheeding of the grave that yawns beneath. The miser commits the excess of cupidity-he finds he has commuted not only innocence for guilt, but ease for care; and all who "make haste to be rich," shall, by too absorbing attention, have missed the times and seasons of better things, even here, and beyond; for God hath said, "Behold his children that come after him; they shall not enjoy." How know we but what even to his consciousness, these children of his own life shall suffer from his sin of excess-not perhaps in the matter of pelf, but in some accessory which this ill-gotten gain had procured them.

Too much indulgence of children is, I suppose, the most comprehensive sin that a parent can commit.

CAROLINE M. BURROUGH.

CONVERSATION.

CONVERSATION is the music of the mind, an intellectual orchestra where all the instruments should bear a part, but where none should play together. Each of the performers should have a just appreciation of his own powers, otherwise an unskillful novitiate, who might usurp the first fiddle, would infallibly get into a scrape. To prevent these mistakes, a good master of the band will be very particular in the assortment of the performers; if too dissimilar, there will be no harmony; if too few, there will be no variety; and if too numerous, there will be no order; for the presumption of one prater might silence the eloquence of a Burke, or the wit of a Sheridan, as a single kettle-drum would drown the finest solo of a Gioniwich or a Jordini. There are prating coxcombs in the world who would rather talk than listen, although Shakspeare himself were the orator, and human nature the theme!-Lacon,

* Butler compared the tongues of these eternal talkers to race-horses, which go the faster the less weight they carry.