The Young Maiden. A. B. Muzzey

never be school-mistress, or mother, or guide and guardian to another? No, it is certain that, unless her path be strange, secluded, and anomalous, she will be either the architect, or destroyer of, or at least, a more than leaden weight on, some human intellect. Let her reflect on this fact, and conduct herself always in view of it.

      At the fireside, what a sum of duties does her power impose? Here she wields a more than regal sceptre. Wisely did Boaz argue the excellence of Ruth, when he said, in reply to her modest question, “why have I found grace in thine eyes?” “It has fully been shewed me, all that thou hast done unto thy mother-in-law, since the death of thy husband.” Such domestic piety, a virtue that could sacrifice home, people, substance, and which tendered even life itself for a parent, was an earnest of the choicest worth. It formed

“A wreath that cannot fade, of flowers that bloom With most success, when all beside decay.”

      Of the confessed power of the mother, and the unrivalled claims of her children on her spiritual care, no language can speak too strongly, or even in adequate terms. From the hour when their first cry announces to her their utter helplessness, onward through the trials of childhood, and the crossing elements of youth, till they part from her charge—no, this they never do—but until she grasps their hand amid the chill of death, they draw from her, as a well-spring of life. What a question then is there to be asked, “Does she shed upon them an Eden-like fragrance? Is she a true mother?” Worlds of wellbeing hang on the answer.

      In every domestic relation, the influence of woman is of transcendent concern. Let her measure the responsibilities that attach to her position. The faithful daughter, the kind sister, the disinterested inmate, no less than the parent, must habitually realize, that around that little spot, her home, she is distilling and must distill, either dews that fertilize the spirit, or night-damps which blast what they touch.

      Consider the demands of her country upon woman. Sparta required her women to bear arms in war. Rome called on hers for the austere virtues of heathenism. But America justly anticipates in this sex a union of grace with power, intellectual cultivation sustained by moral and religious attainments. During the French Revolution, we are told that the wives and daughters of the celebrated artists gave their jewels to extinguish the national debt. Would that they had added the fairer gift of the Christian graces.

      She who shapes so emphatically the destinies of home, should be aware of the calls of patriotism on her sex. I have read of a family in the West, in which the daily conversation of both sexes is, “What can I do for my country?” Rare as this example may be, I earnestly hope that, through a sense of her high obligations to her country, woman will everywhere emulate its spirit.

      Is it not due for the rank she is allowed to hold in our republic? Released from the servitude of her sex, which prevails in so many foreign lands, and recognized as a partaker in the divinity of our nature, why should she sink into inaction? How, as if an angel spoke to her soul, should she rise and gird herself in the meek robes of righteousness, standing fast by the young, and inciting them to a lofty patriotism, quickening brother, husband and son, to public integrity, and calming the fierce spirit of political contention.

      But how shall I describe the paramount necessity of woman’s devotion to the interests of religion? Christianity regards her as a human being, equal in moral power to man, and accountable to the same God and Judge with him. Our religion has elevated her sex from Pagan degradation, and expects a commensurate return, in her superior virtue. Let her then first give her own soul to God, and then shew forth in her works the spirit of her Savior. By the study of the Scriptures; by establishing herself in a rational faith; by an humble profession of her belief in Jesus; by diligence in the Sunday instruction of the young, and by a series of benevolent and charitable offices, among the sick and the needy, let her requite the love of God, as manifested in the Gospel of his Son.

      How can one of this sex, constitutionally gifted with strong and enduring affections, sequestered from man’s peculiar temptations, and summoned by unnumbered considerations, to meditate on heaven, be other than pious, other than a beacon-light on the rock-begirt coast of human life? What can she offer at the judgment-seat of Christ, if she have denied him on earth? To every young woman, I would say, shew

“That thou, in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labor up the hill of heavenly truth.” * * * * * * “That Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light.”