174 SLEEPING APARTMENTS. nies of that last moment; but now one whispered to another she is dead, and they wept aloud. There was one last hope which we cherished: it was that her husband might at least take one farewell look of her face before the grave hid it from his eye. The steamboat was hourly expected, and we fondly hoped he might come. I left the bed of death and passed out of the house to watch the approaching boat. It was one of the loveliest days of summer. The house was beautifully situated on an elevated slope, with a fine lawn in front, which gradually descended to the water. An amphitheatre of mountains in the rear seemed to hem in the little village, while before the house the broad bay, dotted with countless islands and whitened by canvass, lay like a sheet of silver inlaid with emerald and pearl, its sunny waters hardly ruffled by the summer zephyr that played across its surface. I thought how strange, that, amid so much beauty, death should be the universal lord, and sorrow the common heritage. And as I thought of the loved one, whose spirit had just parted from us, with a most soothing power rushed into my mind the words of another departed saint, "If earth be so beautiful, what must heaven be." The column of smoke, rising above the islands, told the boat's approach, and soon she rounded the point and landed her passengers at the wharf. I saw one leave the shore and pass rapidly toward the house. I was almost ready to exclaim, "It is Mr." His person and gait, to my anxious mind, resembled those of the husband, whose coming I so earnestly desired. I even went down to meet him, as he came upon the lawn in front of the house. But it was a strangerand passing through the stile, he turned toward the village and disappeared. Our last hope was crushed, and with a sad heart we prepared for the last offices to the dead. The corpse was carried to her native village, and, in the absence of her husband and father, we consigned her to the grave. Men were mourners there, and we mourned for the living as well as the dead. Should the traveler, who passes through our village, pause by the old deserted sanctuary at the entrance of the principal street, and enter the rude burying-ground, his eye will fall on a large white marble tablet a few steps beyond the gate. A female figure, representing Hope leaning on an anchor, is carved at the top. Beneath may be read the name and age of her whose history I have thus briefly sketched, with the date of her death; and below, an epitome of her life, in the brief and touching lamentation of the prophet, "Her sun is gone down while it was yet day.”—Mother's Magazine. LIFE. SLEEPING APARTMENTS. "IT must not be forgotten," remarks Hufeland, "that we spend a considerable portion of our lives in the bedchamber, and, consequently, that its healthiness or unhealthiness cannot fail of having a very important influence upon our physical well-being." Every one who is actuated by a due regard for health and real comfort, will consider an equal degree of attention necessary in regard to the size, situation, temperature and cleanliness of the room he occupies during the hours of repose, as his parlor, drawing-room, or any other apartment; and yet, how often do we find families crowded at night into obscure and confined chambers, of dimensions scarcely more ample than those of an old fashioned closet, while, perhaps, in most instances, the best rooms in the house will be set aside for the sole purpose of ostentatious display. It is all important that the largest and most lofty room upon the second floor, be appropriated for the sleeping apartment, and that it be freely ventilated, during the day-time, at all seasons when the weather is not rainy, or otherwise very humid. There are few houses, the rooms of which are so situated as to render the latter impracticable; and the influence of the practice upon the health of inmates is too important to permit its being neglected from any slight cause. A bed-chamber should be divested of all unnecessary furniture, and, unless of considerable size, should never contain more than one bed. There cannot be a more pernicious custom than that pursued in many families, of causing the children, more especially, to sleep in small apartments, with two or three beds crowded into the same room. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that cleanliness, in the most extensive signification of the term, is, if possible, even more necessary, in reference to the bedchamber, than to almost any other apartment. The practice of sleeping in an apartment which is occupied during the day, is extremely improper. Perfect cleanliness and a sufficient free ventilation cannot, under such circumstances, be preserved, especially during cold weather; hence the atmosphere becomes constantly more vitiated, and altogether unfit for respiration. While too great a degree of caution cannot be observed to avoid sleeping in damp rooms, beds, or clothing, the temperature of the bed-chamber should, if possible, never be augmented, under the ordinary circumstance of health, by artificial means. As this apartment is to be reserved solely for repose, a fire is never necessary, except, perhaps, during uncommonly severe weather; and even then the temperature ought not to exceed fifty degrees. A sleeping apartment, in which a large fire has been LIFE is continually ravaged by invaders; one steals kept for several hours previous to the period of retiring away an hour, and another a day; one conceals the to rest, may to many, at first view, present an appearrobbery by hurrying us into business, another by lul-ance of the most perfect comfort; it is, however, at the ling us with amusement: the depredation is continued same time a means of very effectually enervating the through a thousand vicissitudes of tumult and tranquil-system; creating an increased susceptibility to the inity, till having lost all, we can lose no more. fluence of the cold, and thus opening the way to the THE BIRTH-DAY. attack of some serious diseases, especially of the chest. Happy may they esteem themselves whose means forbid an indulgence in this species of luxury. A person accustomed to undress in a room without a fire, and to seek repose in a cold bed, will not experience the least inconvenience, even in the severest weather. The natural heat of his body will very speedily render him even more comfortably warm than the individual who sleeps in a heated apartment, and in a bed thus artificially warmed, and who will be extremely liable to a sensation of chilliness as soon as the artificial heat is dissipated. But this is not all; the constitution of the former will be rendered more robust, and far less susceptible to the influence of atmospherical vicissitudes, than that of the latter.—Journal of Health. Original. THE BIRTH-DAY. THE friends that gathered round, Upon that festal day, Had silently retired, Each one his way; And she-alone-in meditative thought, Learned the sage lessons Retrospection taught. ""Tis come again, and gone! My natal day is past! How swiftly time has fled This side the last? It seems as if each day still shorter grew, And months the years with swifter speed pursue. "What good within the past Have I as yet achieved, Full worthy of the powers I have received? What act upon th' entablature of mind "And now before me spreads In prospects gay And Hope herself the gilded path adorns, And strews with flowers a way beset with thorns. "Yet those who've trod life's path, Declare those flowers will fade Before my hands can reach The sweets displayed Or while I grasp the quick decaying bloom, The treacherous thorns the happiness consume. "But yet there is a way Where life's pure joys increase- A path of peace. The flowers which in that lovely path abound, Immortal bloom-are ever fadeless found. "Within a narrow vale Begins its beauteous course, Ascending all the way Toward heaven its source. "That path henceforth be mine- Where on its beauteous, ever vernal plain, "Be it my future aim, As days life's scenes renew, To do those deeds I may With joy review To live for something worthy of a mind Immortal in its being-unconfined." Upon the battlements Which guard th' imperial dome, I watched the smile of those Returning home; And heard the joyous hail by angels given 175 As each was welcomed to the courts of heav'n. Among that happy throng Was one to me well known; Whose blissful countenance Irradiant shone A seraph in the happy realms above, Where all is holy peace and perfect love. I gazed upon that form, And felt a kindred glowPerfection's charm was there, Though born below; For she who early trod the ways of truth, ARARAT. THE torrents cease, the waves retreat, The trembling dove finds rest; The terrors of the Lord abate, His mercies stand confest. Full on the troubled deep no more And lo! to his astonished view But O! what boon more precious far 176 Original. VOICES OF NATURE. VOICES OF NATURE. BY J. G. BLAIR. "O, Nature! what art thou ?-a mighty lyre, Thrills a chord in each bosom responsive to thine, The glad awakening smile of morning too-there throbs in the wide world no heart which does not feel its influence; from childhood, whose life is all one hymn of joyous thankfulness, to old age, that lifts the covering from his snowy locks, and blesses God that he yet lives, if but to behold the joy of this bright and breathing world. What wonder that the awe-struck fancy of the Greek, as he looked upon the peak of the inaccessible mountain, pictured the dwelling of the thunderer above the cliffs, and gave a genius to each mur Fluck the flowers from thy garland, and speed on their way." muring shade—a guardian dweller to each woodland Miss M. DAVIDSON. fountain! He did but give a local habitation and a name to the deep and varied feelings called forth in every heart by the changing aspects of nature-to that deur of the lovelier earth-to that majestic sweetness in the smile of creation which pencil could never show, though dipped in hues such as tint the sun-set cloud; nor poetry describe, though the poet were a seraph. What human voice can elevate the soul like the silent glory of the eternal hills? What so lull its feverish passions as the dewy breath of eventide? What speak of infinite wisdom and love like the seasons walking their perpetual round in ever-varying beauty? Eloquence! God has not left it to human tongues to declare his glory. His anger speaks in the tempest, purifying while it desolates-his serene and all-embracing love in the bending firmament-his wisdom, his power, his AMID the unnumbered blessings by which a merciful Creator seeks to lure human nature from its wayward folly, none appeals to the heart with more win-indescribable something which speaks from the granning eloquence than the beauty of external nature. Gift of the Beneficent, who maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust, the eloquence of nature, like all the most precious gifts of Heaven, is a fountain of happiness open to all-free to the peasant and the prince. Few seem to be aware how large a portion of enjoyment they owe to the loveliness by which they are surrounded. How often is feverish passion calmed, the spirit beguiled from its ceaseless broodings over sorrows, the iron grasp of despair loosened from the heart! and yet we forget to thank the kindly influence which has fallen like dew upon our spirits, reviving the faded blossoms of peace and hope. The soul is wrought|benevolence in the minutest work of his hand. He upon by that serene, unsorrowing beauty, like a harp has written King of kings in the high places of earth, swept by an invisible power-the music of unconscious the mountains, and the heavens; and Father in the joy is called forth, but no eye beholds the hand which delicate tracery of every leaf-the delicate chalice of sweeps the strings. Yet to those who walk amid its every blossom. Nature! daughter of the Eternal! wonders with hearts open to instruction, the universe whatever may be the jarring of man's evil passions, is a magnificent temple, for ever filled with sweet wan-thou hast no discord!-thy realm for ever resounds dering voices-oracles from nature's holy of holies. with lofty melodies, which come to the heart amid the Every leaf is pervaded with the mysterious principles battle of contending passions like music amid the of life and loveliness-every flower or blade of grass is pauses of the storm. inscribed with eternal truth. Not alone by those things which have a voice amid the melodies of nature-old ocean battling with his rocks-the howling storm, with its terrible clarion, that seems summoning the spirits of darkness to hurl the universe back to its ancient chaos-the anger of the awakening earthquake-the crash of the thunderbolt-no, nor by the softer voice of the wind amid summer leaves-nor the rill nursing the violet and gentian in the dim forest heart-not by these alone is the spirit of man awakened to lofty thought, or soothed to that repose which refreshes it to struggle once more with the ills of life. Who but has looked upon the softened beauty of earth, perhaps when the last golden hue of evening fell on the mountain peaks, till he felt his heart overflowing with some such joy as the dwellers of paradise might have felt when the gleaming wings and glorious brow of some angel visitant lit their glades! Who but has stood beneath the starry dome of midnight, till he could almost fancy that he heard around him the anthems of those millions of spiritual beings "who walk the earth unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep!" Voices of praise in heaven! from mountain streams, To the low welling of a forest spring- THE WIDOW'S GRIEF. Pause in their vain career, and softened give The darksome caves of earth-the earthquake springs, And shakes the eternal mountains to their base, With thunder crash vast cities prostrate fall The mountains groan-dread numbs each human pulse, And from a voice more terrible than this Old ocean flies in fear! When wintry winds Wild sporting laugh through winter's starry vault, And thou, O, ocean! playmate of the storm! That wear thy wreaths and foam, and hears his dirge Walks this fair earth, with music-near her hills, Original. THE WIDOW'S GRIEF. Which o'er his form began to linger I marked his eye, which on my sight So oft had burst with heavenly beaming I saw it change-its gentle light Was lost in agony's wild gleaming! I marked his voice, whose sweetest tone, I could not see him die! but, then, I kneel'd beside him when he slumbered The sleep from which none wake again, 177 'Till earth's mysterious hours are numbered! I scarce could look upon his face- I found not one familiar trace Of all that formed and graced the creature! I could not bear to see him laid I murmured that the God who made Weeks, months, even years, have swiftly past, Are in the cells of memory cherished How oft beside his grave I sat, And wept, when none but God was seeing; Tears, both of grief and joy, befit The shrine such precious dust concealingGrief that his spirit pass'd so soon, And left my heart in sorrow piningJoy that in worlds beyond the tomb With lustre brighter far 'tis shining! SIMPLICITY, the fairest flower That once in Eden grew, But re-implanted now in souls VOL. III.-23 WOULD any at their Lord's command Would any fly to cooling streams, To hide them from the scorching beams In Jesus happily conjoined, A fountain and a rock we find For weary pilgrims' use. 178 MRS. FLETCHER. MRS. FLETCHER. The following testimony to the excellent Christian character of Mrs. Fletcher is from Mrs. Hawkes, a lady who was an honored member of Mr. Cecil's Church, and a bright and shining light amongst the female Christians of her day. It is found in the "Life and Correspondence of Mrs. Hawkes," a book which should be in the hands of all our readers.-ED. MRS. JONES and myself set out for Madeley, Thursday, May 15, 1794. We had a pleasant drive, but lost much time on the road, for which we suffered. We reached the house of that honorable Christian, Mrs. Fletcher, about five o'clock. My spirit was awed and humbled, not only by the noble character of Mrs. F., but by the recollection of the sacred roof under which I was. I would gladly have taken my seat at the threshhold of the door, for I felt unworthy to advance any further. But I was soon made to forget my wretched self, my attention being turned to better subjects. While in converse with Mrs. Fletcher, I felt that sacred influence which I desire ever to feel. Glory be to our adorable Savior, he condescended to be present with us; and my soul found it a refreshing season. Here indeed the Sun of Righteousness has arisen, and seems to shine continually. Here the Lord giveth rain in its season, and the souls of the inhabitants are like a well-watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not. Here is a Christian indeed. Alas! what am I? what have I been doing? Surely no more than slumbering, creeping, dragging on in my heavenly journey. Lord, in mercy speak unto me, that I may go forward; and let me run the race set before me. notwithstanding the opposition he experienced. They had both given themselves up for lost, expecting the next returning billow to have sunk the ship; and they were waiting and looking for death, not only with composure, but in a spirit of rejoicing: a strong evidence of great faith, especially when all the circumstances were considered. "Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness, and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." Mrs. F. remarked, "Then is faith the strongest, when it can lay hold on God at the time every thing seems to go against us; when the way is hedged up with thorns, or, as Habakkuk expresses it, although the fig-tree shall not blossom.' Lord increase my faith!" Speaking of the diseases of my own heart, she replied, "Come to Jesus!" adding, "I feel sometimes as though all I had to say to every body was, Come to Jesus! dont be kept back; if you feel you have done amiss, and have received wounds, where can you go but to Jesus? He has every thing to give that you can want. In every circumstance, in every situation, come freely to your Savior!" But my treacherous memory will not retain the encouraging, inviting, persuasive expressions she here made use of. O, Thou, who alone teachest to profit, write them upon my heart, and bring them to my remembrance when they will be most useful. After our dear Mrs. Fletcher had prayed with us, we parted. Three such hours I have not spent for a long season. I esteem this interview as one of my choicest favors. O that I may be the better for it! Among other things she related a dream which had been made useful to one who had grown negligent and slothful in the ways of God. The first remark Mrs. Fletcher made, was on the shortness of her breath, occasioned by a complaint from which she had long suffered. With an animated countenance she said, "She often thought death could not Went to the Dale to sleep. A most beautiful and be far distant. Sometime since," she added, “I had a enchanting place, abounding with the wonders of dangerous illness, which my friends expected would nature: but no sight in this world can be half so anicarry me off, and I began to rejoice in the belief that it mating and astonishing, or so beautiful, as that of a was my Lord's will I should speedily join my dear true Christian-a new creature-an image of him in friends in heaven. But my disorder taking an unex-whom all the nations of the earth are blessed; a proof pected turn, I perceived my time of release was not to of what Divine grace can do. AFFLICTION. be yet, but that God would have me live a little longer; and blessed be his name, I found I had no choice; I could equally embrace his will either for life or death. I felt the will of my God like unto a soft pillow, upon DEVOTION, like fire in frosty weather, burns hotwhich I could lie down, and find rest and safety in all test in affliction. With the ark of Noah, the higher circumstances. O, it is a blessed thing to sink into the we are tossed with its flood the nearer we mount will of God in all things! Absolute resignation to the toward heaven. When the waters of the flood came Divine will, baffles a thousand temptations; and confi- upon the face of the earth, down went stately turdence in our Savior, carries us sweetly through a thous-rets and towers; but as the waters rose, the ark rose and trials. I find it good to be in the balance, awfully still higher and higher. In like sort, when the waweighed every day, for life or death." She then gave us a wonderful and pleasing account of the Rev. Melville Horne, and read a letter with a history of his voyage to the New Settlement-the storms and dangers he and his wife encountered, and how astonishingly they were preserved from any thing like repining, or questioning the goodness and mercy of God, or his own call of duty in the course he was taking, ters of affliction arise, down goes the pride of life, the lust of the eyes, and the vanities of the world. But the ark of the soul ariseth as these waters arise, and that higher and higher, even nearer and nearer to heaven. O, admirable use of affliction! health from a wound! cure from a disease; out of grief, joy; gain out of loss; out of infirmity, strength; out of sin, holiness; out of death, life. |