144 THE BEREAVED MOTHER. rapidly away while they wrought assiduously at the little robes; and as they cut, and fitted, and husbanded, and consulted over them, the sunken eye of the widow expressed a woman's interest in the neat garments they fashioned. The night brought something of weariness to her feeble and woe-worn frame, but with it came the blessed stirring in her heart of prayer and thankfulness, and again slumber fell upon her eyes, calm and refreshingly. On the fourth morning her neighbor entered with a somewhat quickened step. She bore in her arms a weeping and suffering looking babe. "See!" she said, with a petitioning smile, "I have brought a new claimant upon your kindness; I have taken it from the scorched breast of a sick mother; I bring it to you that its cry may not reach her ear. It is cold, it is hungry, its little robes are stained and stiff with neglect. I give it to your care for a season, and when health shall restore its wonted nourishment to the viens of its mother, you shall bear it joyfully back to her breast. The widow hastened to prepare the cup of food; she warmed the babe in her bosom; she washed its garments, and bathed the little waxen form with the most anxious tenderness. It grew into loveliness under her hands; it stretched its polished limbs with a sense of enjoyment; it smiled in her face with confidence; its blue eyes laughed with delight; again it was a thing of freshness, and joy, and beauty. The following day, while her tender charge lay hushed in rosy slumber, the widow went forth into her little garden; it was the first time she had voluntarily looked upon the face of nature for many days; the early breath of May was abroad on the earth, and gladness, and the promise of plenty were everywhere around her. Did her heart still turn from the flowers of spring to that which its breath might not revive.* No! the spirit of faith had prevailed over its temporary bondage. The violet that was unfolding its purple glory at her feet, but spoke to her of the resurrection that faith revealed, when corruption should put on incorruption, and mortality immortality. Her affections were no longer in the charnel house, with what was once her child, but clung with convulsive power to the robes of Him who had conquered death, and destroyed the victory of the grave. And as the passion of her soul's triumphant faith gradually subsided, a meek thankfulness settled upon all its depths. Once more she remembered that labor was a call of duty, and she turned calmly to that which the season demanded. She plucked the weeds from the springing plant, and trained the young vine, whose new tendrils asked support. Her neighbors, who had spoken to her so vainly of reconciliation to her loss, beheld her and marveled. And they said to her who had passed so often in and out at her dwelling, "By what art hast thou comforted her? We have spoken to her in the language of reason and of revelation; we appealed to her pres *I turned from all she brought to those she could not bring.Childe Harold. ent duties and her future hopes; we expostulated; we reproved. It was all in vain; we but wasted our strength-our voices pierced not through the sackcloth in which she had vailed her head. Tell us then what is the secret of thy power?" And she answered meekly, "I have no secret gift; I have essayed no words of comfort; I have but striven to draw her once more into the active duties and the toils of life. During long years of affliction, (for I have been the child of much sorrow,) I found that in doing the work of my Father, though I performed it ever so feebly, and even at another's bidding, yet I always found strength. God hath appointed means for all his purposes, and in all his requisitions there is mercy. He hath made action necessary to our soul's health, and the fatigue of the body is as a cradle, to lull to sleep the disquiet spirit. If the mourner has found comfort-if the darkness from her feet has passed away-it is because she hath gone out upon the path of duty, and the light of her Father's countenance went before her." J. D. Original. THE BEREAVED MOTHER. To bear away my falling tear To yonder bright and heavenly sphere. Where, with spring flowers thou used to play, Original. ANNIHILATION. As a passenger on board a fine steamer, I was sitting pensive and alone at one end of its cabin, when an Italian physician, drawing a chair beside me, looked inquiringly into my face, and then cast his eyes on the cheerful fire which was blazing before us. I have often observed that the introduction of a melancholy face into a social circle, would throw a shade of gloom over the most excited merriment. This was the case in the present instance; for my companion's countenance, which seemed at first to beam under the influence of some pleasing reflections, was now, by the laws of human sympathy, rendered equally as pensive as mine. Presently, I asked him if the sky was cloudy? I thought that he was about to reply. He paused a moment, and then said, "What is cloudy?" I told him that when the sun did not shine in the day-time it was cloudy. We were silent again; and very soon I retired to bed. This Italian must have felt, thought I, that the genial beams of pleasure were for a time obscured by the clouds of melancholy, when he reflected that he had once enjoyed the pleasure of speaking in his native language, and had experienced the delight of social communion, without being able to communicate his own desires in a strange land among strangers. I felt that if I were thus situated, the pleasure of my existence would be so much diminished as to chill the energies of life, and to bedew my pillow with tears of fond recollection. To be sensible of the existence of pleasures which we are unable to enjoy, must be equally as painful as to be conscious of the perfection of our senses without the possibility of realizing the pleasure derived from their action. In all nature, the disposition of the mind and the levity of the heart are adapted to our natural corporeal imperfections; and, consequently, the loss of sensation which we once enjoyed afflicts us much more than to have never been conscious of the exercise of the same sense. This same philosophy will hold good with reference to our mental qualifications. How dreadful, then, must be the possibility of utter annihilation! These thoughts had scarcely passed my mind, when I felt that I was swimming upon an ocean of pure ether, and very soon I was unconscious of the existence of any external object. Perhaps I had fallen asleep. It seemed that I had spent a long life in anxious thought and in laborious research. I had informed myself of the causes of the rise and fall of kingdoms and empires-I had studied the motives which prompted men to action-I had surveyed the wide fields of science and literature, and had carefully examined all their untold truths, as well as those which had been made known by the intelligence and industry of my cotemporaries and their forefathers. Last of all, I attempted to study my own heart; but I found it to be such an immense world of confusion, containing such an infinite variety of startling truths, that after having gained a knowledge of only a few of its leading characteristics, I gave up the examination of the rest in despair. VOL. III.-19 Hope suddenly sprang in my bosom, and whispered that the functions of the human body had become deranged, and that, by the laws of sympathy, the heart had become a mass of confusion-that, in process of time the corporeal system would be again regulated by its great Creator, and that when this should occur the heart would spread forth its glittering beams in conscious security, and, by the laws of human sympathy, rejoice in the beauty of its temple, as it basked in the light of heaven. No sooner had my soul felt the rapture of these anticipations, than a breath of darkness passing over me bore them all away. I was left for a time utterly desolate. Methought that I was convinced by a supernatural power that when my three-score years and ten had expired, all my long cherished hopes, and the intelligence which I had labored so long to acquire, should be buried with my body. And is it true, thought I, that the intricacies of the human heart shall never be revealed-that we are doomed to live in a state of continual irregularity—that we shall labor to acquire knowledge only to please the perishing animals by which we are surrounded, and that we shall spend our lives in the acquisition of wealth and influence, only to excite the admiration of a gaping multitude of dependents? Surely our noble feelings were never intended for such a low destiny. But I am to be annihilated. My whole life, methought, has been but a breath of wind, which, passing over a multitude of inanimate objects, produced a momentary impression, but has left no trace of existence. Every object upon which it acted has changed its form according to the laws of nature, or else it presents a chill and barren front, alike insensible to the most vehement blasts, and to the gentlest breeze. If this be life, thought I, where is the honor of its inheritance? I now saw passing before me a long line of human beings, manifesting every variety of suffering to which humanity is heir; and sunken as I was, so far below my former bright anticipations, yet a feeling of inexpressible delight pervaded my bosom, when I perceived that my soul was glowing under the influence of human sympathy. "And have I yet," cried I, "that divine spark which kindles the delight of social communion, which melts the heart at the recital of human suffering, and which thrills every emotion at the bare mention of love and liberty?" I rejoiced in the thought, and hope springing in my heart whispered that such pure feelings, so worthy of immortality, could never have originated from a source destined for annihilation. All my former bright anticipations revived, and during the rise of the rapturous emotions which ensued, I was carried away by an overwhelming current of ecstasy. This mighty current suddenly changed its course, and I was thrown upon a bleak and desolate shore, where no manifestations of life could be seen, but the howling winds were filled with groans and sighs, and with other signs of human woe. O, the horror, deep and inexpressible, which I felt, when I perceived that every feeling of human sympathy was torn from my bosom! I saw, I heard, I felt every thing with cold indifference. || ye gave me drink, naked and ye clothed me, sick and I smiled; but it was only a mechanical movement of in prison and ye ministered unto me." I awoke; and when I found that all my pleasure was but a dream, my hopes withered, my heart sickened, and my cheeks were bathed in a flood of tears. PHILANDER. CECIL'S MOTHER. my cheeks; for my mind was insensible to sympathy, and my cheeks being rebuked by its utter indifference, slowly and reluctantly assumed their former solemnity. I burst into tears, and as the scalding drops trickled over my cheeks, I heard a voice within cry out, "Stop the leak!" I was almost forced to laugh again; but the stern indifference of my mind regarded my tears. as nothing more than impure drops of water running over an inanimate surface, which might perhaps shorten a single moment of mental existence. And is it possible, thought I, that one single moment is of so much value to a thing that must soon exist no long r? I was now wretched, indeed. I was reduced far below the condition of a brute. It seems to be a law of living existence, however, to adapt itself to the na-portance, especially when called from time to time out ture of surrounding circumstances; and presently I began to feel pleasure even in indifference, and I felt thankful that I was not yet annihilated. WHEN I was a child, and a very wicked one, too, one of Dr. Watts' hymns sent me into a corner to weep. The lives in Janeway's "Token" had the same effect. I felt the influence of faith in suffering ChrisThe character of Young Samuel came home to me, when nothing else had any hold on my mind. The implantation of principles is of unspeakable im tians. of the Bible. A man can very seldom get rid of these principles; they stand in his way-he wishes to forget them, perhaps, but it is impossible. Where parental influence does not convert, it hampers; it hangs on the wheels of evil. I had a pious mother, who dropped things in my way; I could never rid myself of them. I was a professed infidel; but then I liked to be an infidel in company, rather than alone. I was wretched when by myself. These principles, maxims, and data, spoiled my jollity. With my companions I could sometimes stifle them: like embers, we kept one another warm. Besides I was here a sort of hero: I had beguiled sev I now looked over the desolate waste which lay before me, and saw a flaming fire advancing in a whirlwind toward where I stood. It instantly encircled my body, and I was unconsciously borne away. There was no more of me-I was annihilated. Every kind word of my life was now hushed in nonentity-every good act was now sunk in perpetual oblivion, and every feeling worthy of humanity was now for ever lost beneath the impetuous tide of eternity. My body was now resolved into its elementary particles of oxygen,||eral of my associates into my own opinions, and I had hydrogen, nitrogen, and carbon, and formed now only a few drops of this rolling deep, and a few particles of the whistling wind. to maintain a character before them. But I could not divest myself of my better principles. I went with one of my companions to see "The Minor," a profane A flood of light suddenly burst forth from heaven, play. He could laugh heartily at Mother Cole-1 and with it my consciousness returned. I felt as if I could not. He saw in her the picture of all who were a flickering shade living in the beams of this talked about religion-I knew better. The ridicule on glorious light. As the beams shone more brightly, I regeneration was high sport to him-to me it was heard the music of heaven rolling along the eternal none: it could not move my features. He knew no pathway, and heavenly sympathy now filled my soul. difference between regeneration and transubstantiaAs the music grew louder, and the notes more clear, I tion-I did. I knew there was such a thing. I was saw a mist hanging all around me, glittering with a afraid and ashamed to laugh at it. Parental influence thousand beautiful rainbows, and dazzling in the light thus cleaves to a man; it harasses him-it throws of heaven. It was the collected elements of my for- itself continually in his way. My mother would talk mer body. A heavenly chorus was now distinctly to me, and weep as she talked. I flung out of the heard, and as my soul was leaping for joy, the glitter- house with an oath; but wept when I got into the ing mist disappeared, and I found myself the compan-street. Sympathy is the powerful engine of a mother; ion of a multitude of the angels of heaven. As we it is of incalculable importance to obtain a hold on the ascended the luminous pathway, I joined in the chorus which said that "we should praise God, and enjoy the light of his countenance for ever;" and very soon the sparkling radiance of the portals of heaven was presented to our enraptured vision. O, what a change, thought I, from the experience of utter annihilation! "Tongue cannot express, nor" can it enter "into the heart of man to conceive" of the unspeakable bliss which I enjoyed, when I heard a voice more sweet than that of the heavenly music say, "Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was an hungered and ye gave me meat, I was thirsty and conscience. Children have a conscience; and it is not seared, though it is evil. With all the infidel poison which they may afterward imbibe, there are few children who at night in the dark, in a storm of thunder, will not fear. They cannot cheat like other men. They recollect that eternity which stands in their way; it rises up before them; it goads them; it thunders in their ears. After all, they are obliged to compound the matter with conscience, if they cannot be prevailed upon to return to God without delay. "I MUST be religious one time or another-that is clear. I cannot get rid of this thing. Well, I will begin at such a time—I will finish such a scheme, and then!”—Cecil. THE DEATH OF SOCRATES. THE DEATH OF SOCRATES. TRANSLATED BY W. G. WILLIAMS, OF WOODWARD COLLEGE. The death of Socrates is one of the most affecting events recorded in ancient history. It ranks next after the crucifixion of the Savior in the turpitude of its detail, and is second to it alone in moral grandeur, and in its beneficent results. The celebrated infidel, Rousseau, adverts to the similarity of their deaths in his beautiful eulogy upon the character of Jesus Christ. While he believed him to be only a man, he thought none but Socrates worthy of comparison with him. He says, "Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God!" Socrates was born at Athens, 471 years B. C., and died in the seventieth year of his age. Cicero says that he could, most emphatically, be called the parent of philosophy. But his philosophy was not based upon the popular dogmas of his day. He was the utilitarian of the ancient world, and nobly did he vindicate the character given him by the Delphic Oracle, as the "wisest of mankind." His life, for more than forty years, was entirely devoted to the service of his country. He trained the young men by his instructions, and incited them to their duty by his winning eloquence. Athens was indebted to him for some of her brightest ornaments; and many, who were renowned in after years, were his disciples. The sublimity of his sentiments, not only in regard to man, but to God, were far beyond any thing we have from any other of the heathen philosophers; and the tenor of his life corresponded with the purity of his doctrines. 147 regard to any thing that we may do in gratitude to you?" "Nothing more, Crito," said he, "than I have always told you. While my friends recollect Socrates, they will not forget his children. But let your obedience to my past instructions be an evidence of your affection to me." "We will endeavor to do so," said Crito; "but in what manner, O Socrates, do you wish to be buried?" "As you wish," said he, "if, indeed, you can catch me, and I do not escape from you;" and laughing pleasantly, and turning to us, he said, "I cannot persuade Crito that Socrates is he who now converses with you, and arranges the different parts of his discourse; but he constantly thinks me to be that which he will in a little time see dead, and accordingly he asks me how I wish to be buried. But I have all along told you that when I drink the poison, I shall no longer remain with you, but depart to the blissful seats of the immortal dead." Having thus spoken, he went into the inner chamber to bathe, and Crito followed him; but he commanded us to remain. Therefore, we stayed, conver fall upon us, we appeared like children bereaved of their long-loved parent. When he had bathed, his children were brought to him, and the domestics of his when he had spoken to them, and commanded what he wished, he desired them to be removed. But however virtuous his conduct, however generous his devo-sing among ourselves, and musing about his sayings; tion to his country, Socrates was not without enemies-provoked for when we reflected upon the calamity so soon to by his reproofs, and envious of his greatness. And, by their intrigues and cunning duplicity, he was brought to trial and condemned to death for denying the gods in whose service his whole life had been spent, and for corrupting the youth whom it had been his great object to instruct in the principles of mor-house came also, to see him for the last time. And ality. But the tragedy was scarcely consummated before justice burst forth upon his murderers, in the vindictive energies of an insulted people. The Athenians, who had so short a time It was now near the setting of the sun when he before sentenced him to death, now, struck with the injustice| of the sentence, bewailed their wickedness, and rescued the returned to us, for he had delayed a long time within; name of Socrates from its unmerited disgrace. The city was and not many things were spoken before the servant of in universal mourning and consternation. The schools were the magistrates entered, and standing near him said, shut up, the Academy and Lyceum were closed, and all busi-I know I will not be blamed by you, O Socrates, as I ness was suspended. The accusers were arraigned for the innoam blamed by others in your circumstances, who are cent blood they had shed. Melitus, the chief instigator, was sentenced to die, and the rest were banished from Attica for enraged at me, and imprecate all manner of evil upon ever. Statues of brass were erected to the memory of Socrates, me when, in the course of my duty, I announce to and a temple was dedicated in his name, and not until this did them the time for taking the poison. In the time you the Athenians think the city freed from the vengeful anger of the gods, which their guilty consciences pictured hanging over it. have been here, I have known you the most noble and An interval of thirty days passed between the condemnation gentle of all that I ever saw; and I am well convinced of Socrates and the drinking of the poison. This time was that you will not reproach me for your injuries, for you spent by him in confirming his friends, who visited him daily know who are the blame-worthy. And now, since you in prison, in the sentiments already instilled, and inculcating useful and virtuous sentiments for their government in life. know for what I have come, bear with courage what is He urged entire obedience to the laws, and strengthened his unavoidable. Farewell!" and bursting into tears, he arguments by his own personal example. When an opportu turned away. And Socrates, looking upon him, bade nity of flight from death was given him by a friend, who had him farewell, and promised to do as directed. Then gained the jailor, he jocosely asked him, "if he knew of any place out of Attica where people did not die?" He taught the addressing us he said, "How courteous is this man! unity of the Godhead, the immortality of the soul, and future For often has he come to me and cheered me in my retributions. But while we are astonished at the great advan-imprisonment; and now how tenderly does he lament ces he made in true knowledge, we must not judge him by the me! But come, Crito, we must obey him. Christian code of morality. He never heard of that better and purer law, and all that he knew he gathered from the dim light one bring the cup, if ready; but if not have it instantly prepared." of nature. The following passage is taken from the conclusion of the "Phædo," a narrative of the last moments of Socrates by his distinguished disciple Plato. Cicero says he could never read this description of his death without tears. "My dear Socrates," said Crito, "have you any commands to give me concerning your children, or in Let some Crito answered, "I am sure, O Socrates, that the sun is still above the mountains, and it is yet lawful to delay; for others in your situation always put off the evil hour till long after the night hath fallen." But Socrates said, "It may be proper for them, Crito, to do as you say, for they think to profit by it; but 148 RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. I will do no such thing, because I well know that by drinking the poison a little later, I shall gain nothing but the derision of my enemies for desiring to live while the law condemns me to die. Go, therefore, obey me." Crito hearing this, nodded to the boy who stood near, and he going out, soon returned, bringing the servant who had the poison. Socrates seeing the man said, "Come on, my friend-tell me, for you understand these things, what is necessary to be done." "Nothing more," said he, "than to walk about after drinking the poison until weary, and then lie down and compose yourself for its effects." Socrates now took the cup without trembling, or even changing his countenance, but looking intently, as was his wont, upon the man, "What say you," said he, "concerning this drink? Is there sufficient to make a libation to the gods from it, and is it lawful to do so?" few minutes Socrates ceased to breathe, and Crito covered him with the funeral pall. Such was the death of Socrates, our friend-a man who was by far the best we ever knew, and in all things the wisest and most just. Original. RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. It was evening, and in the latter end of a New England winter, that a pleasant domestic circle were assembled, as was their wont, in their large, warm, cheerful sitting-room, as the family apartment is there called. The candles and the hickory fire both burned brightly, giving out a benignant effulgence of light and heat. The father of this family was absent, but his return was hourly expected. It was a year or two before the war of 1812, and commerce was then the great source of wealth to the "We have prepared only so much," answered he,|| Atlantic states. And the gentleman in question was 'as we thought enough for you to drink." "Then I am satisfied," said Socrates; "but it is lawful to pray to the Deity, (and it is our duty, too,) that he would make our departure to him a happy one." Thus speaking, he calmly and deliberately drank off the poison. Heretofore we had been scarcely able to restrain ourselves from weeping; but when we saw him drinking the poison, the tears flowed unchecked. In spite of ourselves our lamentations broke forth when we saw the man, who had so long a time been our friend, about to be taken from us. Crito, less able than the rest to repress his wailings, went out to weep in secret. And Apollodorus, who had not ceased crying since he entered the prison, now burst into such uncontrollable grief, as brought tears into the eyes of every one present, except Socrates himself. But he said, "What is it you are doing, O friends? Did I not, for this very purpose, send away the women, that we might have no such exhibition of passion? Pray keep silence, and act like men; for I have heard that it is proper to die an undisturbed death." When we heard this we were ashamed, and refrained as much as possible from weeping. Socrates now continued walking about until he grew fatigued, and then lay down upon his couch as he had been told. The servant, after a short period, informed us that the poison, which was very active in its nature, would gradually make the extremities cold and rigid, and when it reached the heart he would die. But just before his death, Socrates, uncovering himself, for he had drawn his robe around him, said, (and it was the last word he spoke,) "O, Crito, we owe a cock to Esculapius. Pay it for me, and do not neglect it." Crito said he would attend to it, and asked if he had any other commands, but he gave no answer. And in a "By the cock which Socrates, when dying, said was due to Esculapius, the patron and first of physicians, was signified the sacrifice due from a grateful mind to death, the great healer of all evils, who was now laying hands upon him." commander of a merchantman in the East India trade; and his large emolument afforded all those indulgences to his family, which, being dispensed, as in this instance, by the benevolent hand of the mistress of the mansion, constitute that free and liberal house-keeping which renders a house-a parlor-delightful equally to inmates and to visitors. And many such an house, without ostentation, might then be found in the cities and towns of New England. But since then, luxury, with its insatiable demands, has devoured the means of simple cheerfulness; and fashion, with its concomitant restraints, has banished the hilarious good will which accompanied the hearty hospitality of the day. But perhaps there is now more religion than there then was. The circle consisted of six or eight persons. The mother was seated at one of the principal places of the fire-side, engaged with her knitting work, and presiding, as it were, over the conversation, which was occasionally politely referred to her comment. The two eldest daughters, girls of seventeen and nineteen years, were engaged in conversing each with a young gentleman, who subsequently became their husbands. Besides these another gentleman had dropped in, a frequent visitor, and a relative of the family. A couple of urchins, not yet sent to bed, were sporting about the room, with now and then an appeal to their mother of "how much it yet wanted of eight o'clock." And a little retreated from the circle sat a younger sister, aged about thirteen years. She had taken a candle to herself, and, undisturbed by any thing about her, was silently conning her lessons for the morrow's recitation at school. As she mastered one study, she would close the book, and with a little sort of exulting tap put it on the table, and say, "One more, mother," and exchange it for another, and so on until she got through with the pile, consisting generally of about four memory studies. This young girl was diligent, had a good memory, was accustomed to study, and sought her chief pleasure in her school. Frequently, if she got through soon, |