A SCENE AT HOME-AND AT SEA. had not taken aught from the vigor or elasticity || of his frame, or altered in the slightest degree the ardor with which he pursued the acquisition of knowledge. He sat with a book in his hand, half closed, looking into the fire, though evidently in deep meditation. The mother sat on the opposite side, in a large, elegant easy-chair, silently watching the progress of combustion in the ignited Lehigh, and occasionally glancing her eye over the group around her, which was made up of a married daughter with two children, who were frolicking in all the hilarity of sportive childhood, and two or three younger sons. In the corner sat the eldest of these, who was just entering upon manhood. Though his health was somewhat delicate, there was no want of buoyancy of spirits. The gay smile seemed at home on his countenance as he talked on, enjoying every thing, and communicating enjoyment to all around him. But a shade of sorrow seemed to come over the mother's countenance as often as her eye was turned towards the corner where he sat. That son on the morrow was to leave the paternal roof. The next day was fixed as the time of his embarking on a voyage to South America. It was deemed expedient both for F's health, and for other reasons, that he should accompany the ship in her voyage to Monte Video and Rio Janeiro. The mother could not object to the expediency of the arrangement; but when she thought of the lateness of the season-when she thought of the angry winds and rolling waves that he was to encounter, and of the watery grave that he might find-and then, when she looked upon her child, the tenderness of the mother burst forth, and she could hardly suppress the rising tear. But that ring of the bell of which we spoke-whose entrance did it betoken into the midst of this quiet family circle? It was their pastor, who had called to spend the evening with the family, and who was soon seated in the midst of this group. Conversation soon became enlivened, and the evening passed pleasantly away; the mother participated in the interest that was awakened, and became cheerful and happy. Before the pastor arose to take his departure, he was invited to lead the family devotions. It was a lovely sight to see all that family around the domestic altar. When bowed there, the world seemed shut out of view, and heaven was brought near. The voice of prayer went up and entered the ears of the Lord of Hosts. Every interest connected with the family was remembered, and 178 especially the case of that son who on the morrow was to embark upon the mighty waters. Earnest supplication was made that he might be preserved from the perils of the ocean, and be led by what he saw to love and serve the ocean's Creator. The possibility that it might be the last night that this dear son would ever pass with his parents was contemplated, and petitions were offered that, should this be so, he might be prepared, through the blood of the cross and the sanctification of the Spirit, to meet his parents at the right hand of God. When that family arose from kneeling around the domestic altar, their eyes were suffused with tears, and the mother could not refrain from say. ing, with bursting emotion, "May this prayer be answered, especially to dear F--!" Unusual seriousness sat on that young man's countenance, and the minister could not but hope that his visit had not been altogether useless. Weeks had passed away. F--- was now on the great deep. He began to experience in a fearful manner the perils of the sea. The vessel in which he sailed was, on the 10th of February, in lat. 28 deg. 45 sec, S., and long. 45 deg. W. It became what the sailors term exceedingly squally. After dinner, however, the prospect seemed to be far more encouraging. Heavy clouds had passed over to the leeward, but before them every thing was bright and clear In a short time, however, the second mate announced that a waterspout was close upon them. With great effort they escaped its destructive contact. The waterspout, however, was immediately followed by a whirlwind which, blowing from every quarter, struck the vessel and instantly capsized her, even without breaking a single spar. The sail. ors and passengers escaped to the side of the vessel, where they hung for about an hour, when a calm succeeded. They then attempted to cut away every thing, shrouds, backstays, etc., but the masts held on without breaking. The hold was soon filled with water, and burst open the hatches. In about an hour the masts gave way, and the vessel again righted. F--- and others now found a standing-place on the poop-deck, where they remained in awful incertitude as to what was to be their fate for a long time. the meantime they saw a brigantine, which made several tacks as though making for the wreck. They instantly hung out signals of distress. She seemed to be approaching them, and actually came so near that they could almost see her hull, and then stood off, leaving them in utter hopelessness and despair. In 174 "BRING FLOWERS."' After four days continuing in this state, they succeeded in pumping the water out of the ship, and, to their great joy, found she did not leak. They then contrived to fix up a sail. They had no compass, and were obliged to sail by the sun and stars. At length a Brazilian vessel disco vered them, and towed them into Villa de Cananea, some three hundred miles south of Rio Janeiro. They were thus mercifully rescued from the jaws of death. An incident that occurred during the wreck must not here be omitted. They had on board some two hundred, and fifty volumes of books. The only one saved in good order was a large Bible belonging to one of the passengers. When the water burst in and swept every thing out of the cabin, this Bible, after the vessel had righted, floated back on to the deck, which was covered with water, open at the 107th Psalm, the first verse which would naturally meet the reader's eye, as the page was arranged, being verse 23: "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths; their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them into their desired haven. Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!" This was a very remarkable coïncidence, and deeply affected the mind of F- and others who read these striking verses. The above facts we received at the time from the most authentic source. Does not the whole series of incidents now related clearly show that there is a God above who heareth prayer? Who can doubt that the prayers of that family circle, the last night which F spent at home, were heard in heaven? Who can say that the fervent breathings of that mother's heart, ascending in prayer to heaven, did not instrumentally save that floating wreck and all its crew from a watery grave? How much encouragement have we to pray always, and "with all prayer and supplication to make our requests known unto the Lord," who knows all things before, but "will be inquired of concerning this thing!" "BRING FLOWERS." - BY E. L. E. A LITTLE girl in the infant class of the Five Points Mission School heard a lady who constantly visited the school speak of her love for flowers. The remark was not forgotten, and every day she begged her father to bring her some flowers to give to her kind friend. At length he complied with her wish, and the timid child presented through a larger girl this touching tribute of affection. Flowers-always beautiful, always welcome anywhere, everywhere--had indeed a language as they trembled in the hand of the grateful, expectant child !-The Old Brewery. "BRING flowers !" 'tis an echo the heart to fill, A song of beauty from lips now still: Flowers for the conquerer's hour of pride; Flowers for the locks of the fair young bride; Flowers in a garland for festal cheer, For the captive's cell and the loved one's bier; For the spirit's shrine where in dust ye fall; For the pure and lovely;-but are they all? "Bring flowers!" there are those on whose path of gloom No sunlight falls and no roses bloom; There are young, sad eyes that in vain have sought "Bring flowers," pure flowers from the heart for these; A token more precious than kingly dowers, "Bring flowers!" they may wither and seem to die, FINE CLOTHES.-The person whose clothes are extremely fine I am apt to consider as not being possessed of any superiority of fortune, but resembling those Indians who are found to wear all the gold they have in the world in a bob at the nose.---Goldsmith. "NOW WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY." 175 "NOW WE SEE THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY." BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. METHOUGHT I saw a frail and sorrowing child of earth, seeking, amid the mazes of many paths, the one that leadeth to the skies. But by reason of the darkness that was in him, he often went wrong, and often stumbled; till at length, sigh. ing and discouraged, he sat down in despair. But there came to him a man like himself, in pilgrim garments, and worn with travel; yet was his face exceedingly fair to look upon, and his voice was tender and sweet; and he said to the man, "My brother, wherefore faintest thou in the good way!" Then said the man, "Behold, it is rough and hard-also there are many paths, and I know not the right one." Then said the stranger, "Fear thou not, neither be thou discouraged, for He that is higher than the highest hath regarded thee, even the King whose face thou seekest. Behold, he has sent me, his messenger, to walk with thee, and to guide thee, and to be even as a brother unto thee, until thou come to thy journey's end." Then said the man unto the stranger, "What is thy name?" And the stranger answered, "Behold, it is a mystery, and a secret thing; yet am I a son of man, even as thou; and will walk with thee, even as a brother." Then I saw that the man arose with a cheerful countenance, and took the hand of the stranger, and they walked on together. Now, the way in many places was thorny and rough; and there were hard and high rocks to climb, and burning, sandy deserts to be crossed, where no water was, and there were deep rivers to be forded, and perils and dangers besetting the path on every hand. Nevertheless, what time the man was disheartened, he looked on the face of his friend, and took courage; for the heavenly pilgrim, though sorely worn, was ever full of courage and comfort, and though weary, and hungry, and thirsty, still spoke sweetly, to en: courage the heart of his fellow-pilgrim. And when the way grew smooth, among green pastures, and along by the side of still waters, the travellers sat down together, and the mortal leaned on the immortal, even as on a brother, and the man's heart rejoiced, and grew strong because of his friend. Thus they walked on together until they came near the journey's end-even unto the borders of the shadow of death, to the land of darkness as darknese itself, where the light is as darkness. And the man lifted up his eyes, and looked, and before him there was a cloud of thick darkness; and out of the darkness came strange sighings, and doleful voices, and a heavy sound, as of deep rushing waters, and moanings as of those that were sinking in the waters; and behold, there were gathered around the darkness the friends of the man's heart, his brethren and his sisters, and his wife and his children; and every one looked one on another, but they spake not, far they were full of trouble. Then the man was afraid, and his soul sunk within him, and by reason of his fear he forgot the friend that had come with him; and he said, "Behold, the way is strange unto me. I must go into the darkness, and I know not what shall befall me. Come therefore with me, and comfort my heart by your presence." Then said the brother of his youth, "Behold, my life would I give for thine, but I cannot go with the." Then said the wife of his youth, "Would God I might die for thee, but I cannot go with thee;" and his children held his hands, and wept, and said, "Oh! father, wherefore must thou leave us!" And it came to pass, as they spake, a voice called out of the darkness that the man should not tarry. Then did his knees smite together, and his face grew pale, and he said, "Who shall go with me!" Then said the man who came with him, "Wherefore hast thou forgotten me! Be strong. Behold, I have passed through the darkness, and I will go with thee; therefore fear thou not." Then the man looked upon the face of his friend, and it was glorious, so that he could not steadily look upon it; and he smiled through many tears, and bidding farewell to his friends, went with him into the darkness. And the light passed from his eyes, and there was a rushing sound in his ears, and flesh and heart failed within him, and he sunk in the arms of his friend. And he awoke, and beheld a throne, and One sat thereon who covered himself with light as with a garment. Thousand thousands stood before him, and ten thousand thousands ministered unto him. And one cried unto another, saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory. And when the man saw, he fell at his feet as dead. But He laid his right hand on him, saying, "Fear not. I am He that liveth and was dead; I am the Lord that taught thee to profit, that led thee by the way which thou shouldst go. Have I been so long a time with thee, and yet hast thou not known me?" 176 YOUNG AMERICAN CHARACTERISTICS. YOUNG-AMERICAN CHARACTERISTICS. BY REV. J. T. TUCKER. A PRACTICAL lesson which many learn with much proficiency is, to be not greatly surprised by any thing which happens in life. The ideas of the stability of things which we have in childhood, become strangely confused as we grow older. The ponderous mass which we looked upon in the distance as some immovable bulk of granite, we find, on closer inspection, to be a of "rocking-stone," which moves at the pressure the hand. We begin to ascertain, before long, that it is not easy to tell what is fixed and what is not; and that this question must be determined on a very different ground than mere ap"Order is heaven's first law;" so pearances. the poets say; and we do not dispute it, for there is an instinctive sentiment in us that this is a good law-one quite indispensable, moreover, to all the purposes of useful and pleasant association. But if this be so, how unlike is heaven to this poor world of ours! You have stood at a freight-station on our railroads, and seen boxes of merchandise rolled and tossed about most promiscuously, while the conspicuous marking, "This side up with care," seemed only to present an irresistible temptation to dash that particular surface right into the dust; almost as if to hear the crash within would be an agreeable excitement. Now, society has its markings, here and there, and there, upon this and that object, relation, interest: This side upwritten thus not arbitrarily and capriciously, but in the true proprieties of the case, under guidance of that deep and eternal law of order which should, because it ought to, steady the universe. But how is it, actually? Which side of ten thousand things in the community is up, and which down? And how many delicate and costly structures, how many domestic and public interests of incalculable value, are jeoparded, ruined, by this topsy-turvy disorder, disarrangement? The "Preacher" saw and lamented this evil; and under a very lively, graphic picturing, has sent a wise man's observation down to us: "I have seen servants upon horses, and princes walking as servants upon the earth."* Which may be paraphrased thus: I have seen things very much bottom-side up. The progress of ages has not diminished these exhibitions. But our wonder at the inexplicable overturnings of the world must be discrimi Ecclesiastes x. 7. nating. Changes there are of a most marvellous nature, and that do not immediately justify themselves to our reason, which occur through a providential ́intervention that seems to take them quite out of the range of any obvious human responsibility. Influences and interests come uppermost, which would appear to have small claim to this ascendency. We could hardly forgive our fellows or ourselves for the authorship of any such revolution. We cannot comprehend why God should east down the honorable and honest by the sure blow of his hand, when base, unprincipled ambition stands waiting to vault into the vacant seat. The history of states and lesser communities will supply instances in point. All that we can do, at such junctures, is to be silent in reverent surprise; to accept the dispensation, if not as a judgment for our rebuke, then as a lesson to teach us submission and faith. That, moreover, may be order to the Supreme Wisdom, which is disorder to us; the cause of confusion lying rather in our wrong views and sentiments, than in any considerable displacement of relations around us. Arctic voy. ages give us the most unaccountable descriptions of multiplied, distorted, reversed scenery, along those ice-bound coasts, produced by a refracting atmosphere, and playing the oddest freaks with the observer's senses. So we may be indebted for some of our notions of the wrong-side-up-ness of society to the refraction of our own mental atmosphere, while the shore-line of mountains, and bays, and headlands is, after all, perhaps, quite where it should be. We must guard this point. Nothing is more unwise, unmauly, useless, than a temper of general, wholesale complaint. You cannot persuade any one, nor yourself either, that every thing is out of joint, and needs the surgeon. Some of our social architecture stands shapely and plumb on a good granite base. But then, again, all does not. Hence, neither too much destructionism nor conservatism is just the demand of these or any times; but a prescription compounded skilfully of both these elements; now, with a little stronger infusion of the one, and now, of the other, to meet remedially the special wants of the age which may be passing. Shall I now put the delicate inquiry, What is the tendency, and what the necessity, of our period and place in this progress of revolutions? I will venture it and its auswer: That the decided development of American character and institutions is towards the side of disorganization and disorder. It would not be fair, very likely, to say that "the servant on horseback and the prince YOUNG-AMERICAN CHARACTERISTICS. on foot" is the most appropriate motto or symbol of the day; yet the verisimilitude is tolerably close. But before going farther, the writer must protest against that misconception of his intention which would narrow this essay to any personal application to parties which happen just now to be in the political saddle in the land. Its scope is very much wider, more fundamental. It looks at a principle which underlies several visible processes among us, of more or less conspicuity. Faults which are the excesses of virtues we should look upon with much charity, and censure with much forbearance. The ultra independence of "Young America" is an outgrowth of a legitimate human freedom. Ages could not produce it on an aristocratical or monarchical soil. Its unpruned luxuriance presupposes a stately, deep-rooted growth of the tree of liberty. The single germ of the Hindu Banyan must have a rich mould beneath it, and a tropical sky above it, to multiply itself into a whole grove of verdant foliage "Branching so broad and long, that in the ground We can pardon much to the exuberance of our national spirit, the restlessness, the boldly innovating, the aggressive "manifest destiny" temper, even, of our people; as we know that, but for Bunker Hill and Yorktown, nothing of this could have flourished on these shores. We cannot help eyeing with some leniency our juvenile insubordination, and the overweening selfconceit of not a few of our "sovereigns," who seem possessed with an inveterate conviction that they were born to go in stirrups through life, rather than afoot, when we recall the Declaration of July 4th, 1776, and all that went before and followed after it, to establish us a republic of self-governed citizens. May I suggest that, as the marvel of "Woman's Rights Conventions" could not possibly have been started in any land save ours of the round globe, so these too may find, if not a satisfactory defence, yet a courteous palliation in the traditions of the heroic endurance and achievements of the wives and mothers of the founders of our mighty commonwealth. To know a danger, is a step towards its avoidance. Our danger is, the breaking up of those fundamental laws of moral and social subordination which man did not make, and which man 177 cannot safely violate. There is, in all rightlyorganized structures, an equilibrium of forces which is the true basis of repose, of stability. Disturb it, and you have commotion, perhaps ruin. In the Polar seas immense mountains of ice float along those deep currents with a calm and solemn majesty, when, by the unseen and gradual action of the waters disengaging a portion of the ponderous mass, the centre of rest is suddenly changed, and while the eye is gazing on the seemingly fast-anchored pile, the whole gigantic formation throws itself over with plunge after plunge, whirling the smooth ocean into angry billows, until it slowly settles again to its new equipoise. Material bodies have a great advantage here over immaterial: for while the principle just mentioned is no more real in the one than in the other, the latter do not regain their interrupted equilibrium as easily by much as do the former. An iceberg will float along peacefully in a few hours with its new waterline. But turn a family, a neighborhood, a district bottom-side-up, by some evil rebellion or intrigue, and it may be a work of years, of lifetimes, to restore the right supremacy to its management. We are apt to be unduly influenced by names; and this is particularly unfortunate when, as is often also the case, the name conveys to our minds a very distorted, false significance. Aristocracy and democracy are words, for example, which we are continually using, and not always with as much judgment as zeal. With most, the one is the label of an unmixed human evil; the other, of a good as potent and priceless. But this is too sweeping a sentence. Both are indispensable to the strength, the tranquillity of associated human existence. Both enter necessarily into the equipoising of the community. What are they essentially? Not hostile powers at all, except when thus arrayed conventionally. The one is the right of every individual to all that influence, authority, which is not removed from his hands by the superior right of the other. Democracy is not the liberty of every one to do as he chooses. Aristocracy is not the charter by which the few may rule the remainder as they please. These are the vicious extremes of each. The ideas themselves are these: That self-control is the inherent privilege and responsibility of reasonable beings personally, but that this principle should adjust itself cheerfully to providential arrangements in society for its wise and benevolent development. The one invests me with the intrinsic dignities and prerogatives of humanity |