their chastity and conjugal fidelity; and these traits among others especially predisposed them for the gospel. Yet these become most firm and sacred only by being referred to the holiest of all conceivable relations. Christianity does not, indeed, take woman out of her natural sphere of subordination and domestic life, and throw her into the whirl of public activity, from which she instinctively shrinks; but places her in a religious and moral point of view by the side of man, as a joint-heir of the same heavenly inheritance; 1 Pet. iii, 7; and by doctrine and illustrious example, as in the ever-blessed Virgin, in Salome, Martha and Mary, and Mary Magdalene, it has opened the way for the development of the noblest and loveliest female virtues in all their forms. Finally, from that fruitful analogy may be derived all the duties of husband and wife to one another and to their children, as Paul himself presents them in a few but comprehensive words in the passage cited above. The relation of the husband to the wife is the same as that of Christ to the church. In other words, the husband is even by virtue of his whole physical and intellectual constitution the head of the wife, her lord and ruler. Eph. v, 22. He is not, however, to lord it over her ambitiously and arbitrarily, as a despot, but with the power of love, surrendering himself to her, as a part of his own being, as his other self, making her partaker of all his joys and possessions, patiently and meekly bearing her weaknesses, promoting in every way her temporal and above all her spiritual welfare, and sacrificing himself for her, even to his last breath, as Christ has given His life for the church, is continually purifying and sanctifying her with his blood, and raising her, as a spotless, richly adorned bride, to full participation in his glory and blessedness. Eph. v, 25-31; Col. iii, 19; 1 Pet. iii, 7. This, then, makes the sanctification and moral perfection of the character the highest end of conjugal life, to which the physical object, the propagation of the race, must be subordinate and subservient-a view of which heathendom never dreamed. Of course, however, the devotion of the husband and wife to each other, as well as to the children, ought never to be absolute, or it would degenerate into idolatry. It should not interfere in the least either with the moral duties of public life and occupation, by neglect of which the most ardent conjugal love must only shrink morbidly into itself and wither, or with the demands of love to God, who alone can claim our undivided heart and life. On the contrary it should favor both. When there is any danger of a conflict here, then the command is of force: "Let them that have wives, be as though they had none." 1 Cor. vii, 29. The wife stands related to the husband, as the church to the Lord that is, she is to be subject to him, and to show him all due reverence. Eph. v, 21—33; 1 Cor. xi, 7 sqq.; 1 Tim. ii, 11 sqq.; 1 Pet. iii, 1 sqq. But this obedience does not exclude equality of personal and moral dignity. Gal. iii, 28; 1 Pet. iii, 7. It should have nothing slavish or bitter about it, no fear nor trembling. It should be free and joyful, in, and for the sake of the Lord. Comp. Col. iii, 18. So the church finds her highest honor, delight, and freedom, in everywhere following her heavenly bridegroom in the most trustful self-resignation. Pride is contrary to the nature of woman, except so far as it relates to her husband and children, in whom she forgets herself. In this subordinate position, as well as in the maternal care of her children and the whole field of private, domestic life, she has occasion to exhibit her silent moral elevation, to unfold the noble virtues of modesty, meekness, patience, fidelity, and self-denial, and thereby to adorn her Christian profession, and to integrate the masculine character. Here too, howeve., the analogy is not perfect. For while the wife often converts her husband, and always ought at least to exert upon him a softening, refining, elevating, and sanctifying influence, such an influence of the church on Christ, the Perfect, is of course unnecessary and impossible. LITTLE CHILDREN LOVE ONE ANOTHER. A LITTLE girl with a happy look, Set slowly reading a ponderous book, All bound with velvet, and edged with gold; And its weight was more than the child could hold; Yet dearly she loved to ponder it o'er, And every day se prized it more; For it said and she looked at her smiling mother It said, "Little children love one another." She thought it was beautiful in the book, So mamma, I'll be kind to my darling brother, SOLOMON GESNER, THE POET. SOLOMON GESNER, the celebrated author of the Death of Abel, and many of the other productions, written in a similar style, that rank high in the literature of his native country, carried on the business of a bookseller at Zurich, in Switzerland. It was amid the drudgery of the shop that almost all his earliest studies were carried on, and his literary taste nourished. We are told that Gesner was accounted a dunce by his first schoolmaster, who predicted that he never would get beyond reading and writing; and yet the person who was thus unsuccessful in developing, or even discerning, the talents of the future poet, was no other than the celebrated Bodmer, one of the distinguished names of German literature, and who afterward became a great poet himself. This anecdote shows that even genius will not always discover genius in another; although possibly some may think that Bodmer must have been but an indifferent teacher, whatever he was in another capacity. Young Gesner was afterward sent by his father, who, like himself, was a bookseller in Zurich, to the house of a clergyman in the neighborhood, who, having probably no poetical powers of his own, had more leisure to attend to the intellectual character of his pupil, and soon drew forth from the condemned dunce no doubtful indications of the light that was hidden within. But the young poet was after some time removed from the care of this congenial or judicious instructor, and despatched to Berlin, to take up his abode with a bookseller of that city, in quality of his apprentice or shopboy. Here he was, of course, surrounded with books; but, either disliking the business, or not finding that it left him sufficient leisure to derive much advantage from the treasures of knowledge that were within his reach, he soon abandoned it, and took lodgings under the idea of supporting himself by poetry and painting, for he had already, without having any one to give him lessons, begun to apply himself also to the latter art. In this scheme he encountered at the outset the difficulties which naturally beset one in his situation. There was no deficiency of talent, but a sad lack of experience, and ignorance of many things that a person more regularly instructed could not have failed to know. Having shown his verses to some of his literary acquaintances, he was told that they were so awkwardly constructed that he certainly never would be a poet, and advised him to turn his attention forthwith to some less difficult species of composition. His paintings were still more literally the efforts of his own unaided genius than even his poetry. Here he had neither any model to imitate, nor was he even acquainted with the elementary rules and most common methods and processes of the art. He had cov ered the walls of his humble lodging with landscapes, and he one day prevailed upon a painter of some reputation and talent, who resided in the city, to come to see what he had done. His visitor had taste enough to discern the genius that animated many parts of his strange and lawless performances; but was not at all surprised, when he was told that he had no models, and that the whole was merely the inspiration of his own invention. He was somewhat amused, however, when Gesner, in his ignorance of the way of managing his oil colors, complained to him that his pictures never dried. The end of all this was, as might have been anticipated, that the runaway was soon forced to throw himself once more upon the protection of his friends, when he was again placed by his father at his own business. He did not, however, relinquish literature; and although his first productions were not very flatteringly received, he persevered in writing and publishing until he had established for himself a distinguished reputation. He began, too, after some years, to add to his other employments that of an engraver, having already matured his taste and skill in painting by the study of the great masters of the Flemish school. The father of his wife possessed a valuable collection, the inspection of which had the effect of strongly exciting his early ardor. The remainder of Gesner's life was divided between his business, his duties as a public man, (for he had now become a member of the legislative council of his native city), and those different intellectual Occupations and elegant arts, in each of which he had attained so honorable a celebrity. His works were not only in general published by himself, but often embellished with engravings by his own hand from his own designs. Many of them were still more popular in other parts of Europe, especially in France, than even in Germany; and among the testimonies of affection and respect which he received from his foreign admirers, he was presented with a gold medal by the Empress Catharine of Russia. He died of an attack of apoplexy in 1788, in the fifty-eighth year of his age. HOME. LOVE watches over the cradle of the infant; over the couch of the aged; over the welfare of each and all: to be happy, man retires from the out-door world to his home. In the household circle the troubled heart finds consolation, the disturbed finds rest, the joyous finds itself in its true element. Pious souls, when they speak of death, say that they go home. Their longing for heaven is to them a home-sickness. Jesus also represents the abodes of eternal happiness under the picture of a home-a father's house. Does not this tell us that the earthly home is appointed to be a picture of heaven and a foretaste of that higher home. CHRISTIAN SOCIABILITY.* CHRISTIAN Courtesy cannot be successfully cultivated without the aid of Christian intercourse. It is only in the society of the brethren that the milder and more amiable virtues of the renewed man are made to unfold the highest charms, and to exert the most benign influence. Those professors who neglect the social prayer circle and brotherly call, only meeting one another on the Sabbath, do not in general acquire that gentleness and affability of manners which adorn the character of the more sociable Christian. It is a matter of common regret that a more symmetrical development of the graces is not furnished by the generality of religious people. Each one stands, it may be, unrivalled in some one excellence, but is very defective in other required qualities. This disproportion among the virtues is mostly discoverably among the solitary, the retiring, and all who, from inclination or necessity, live without the refining contact of pious acquaintance. Some remedy for the evil might be found in a more intimate and frequent intercourse among the members of churches, each of whom, by the exhibition of his good qualities, would mend the opposite defects in others, and by occasionally betraying his bad qualities would lead others to shun them. So that while no one perfect model could be found, a combination of the most beautiful features in each could produce a pattern of Christian conduct to which all would gradually and almost insensibly conform. Is not this the method by which the members of some churches have attained such eminence in the gentler virtues? And is it not by reason of their so frequent and sociable intercourse among themselves, that the highest classes in the society of the world have always been so distinguished for their gentility? Unsociableness always leads to ignorance, rudeness and vice. This is true not only of churches, but of villages, cities, and even of whole countries. It sufficiently accounts for the anarchy and barbarism of the inhabitants of Laish, that "they had no business with any man." And we can easily imagine how Homer's giants could be lawless cannibals and one-eyed dullards, when we are informed that they lived apart in caves on the tops of the loftiest mountains, and held no friendly intercourse with one another. The secluded Christian is liable to grow self-ignorant and selfrighteous. Neglecting to compare his moral character with that of others, as he might usefully do by keeping up a friendly commerce with them, he comes at length to fancy that he is better than they. Were he to go into the assemblies of the pious, he might see some of his fellow-disciples of whose piety he had been accus * From Hervy's Principles of Courtesy. |