Oldalképek
PDF

Dees, care and circumspection. By his knowledge, the skilful physician has in the treatment of diseases a decided superiority over the bungling quack, who has never made medicine nor the human frame, so wonderfully contrived and so skilfully formed, his study. Those who go to work aright in the training of children, must, of necessity, pay a supreme regard to first principles. These are, of course,simple; but are they,on this account, less efficient? No, verily—the experience of the past amply attests their efficacy. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it," says Solomon; and reason and common sense say, if you mean to raise a solid superstructure, take heed how you lay the foundation thereof. Man in the present state, is a pilgrim to eternity; and that system of education which gives him the highest elevation, physically, morally, and mentally, deserves the supreme regard of all rational creatures. To ask then for the good way and to walk therein, by throwing defective systems to the moles and bats, is therefore the incumbent duty of all who righly appreciate the present and future welfare ofi their offspring. As Pope says—"Just as the tree is bent the twig's inclined." God and nature have assigned mothers an important share in the education of our race. In order, however, to fill this sphere properly, it is necessary that the fair sex should receive a proper education.

Nannie Gordon had received a decent share of her mother's attention with regard to the formation of her mind, when she was but a tiny girl. Early impressions take deep root, and are never entirely eradicated. Nannie's early lessons were all on the side of piety and virtue, and these were enforced by a blameless walk and behavior, on the part of her preceptress. Such conduct could not fail in producing beneficial results on the sweet innocent creature, who is now the affectionate wife of the hero of the foregoing story. As such, she has given pleasing evidence of the soundness of Mrs. Heatherton's judgment in the high estimation she formed of her virtues on their first acquaintance. Mrs. Kirkland is now the blooming queen of a happy domestic circle, every member ofj which yields her the willing homage of the' heart's best affections. While the widow sojourned in the low vale, she was an occasional visitor at Frank's, in order to see how her "braw chield" and his bonnie wife, and a' the bits o' blithe bairns were getting on, but she has now lain down where the weary find rest. Her memory is embalmed in the recollection of many a survivor; but in none so vividly as in the heart of Frank, who now delights in telling over the leading incidents

of his life, and the deep and undeserved interest she took in his welfare, watching over him when he was an alien and a wanderer in a strange land, till he rose to notice and importance in society. "Look there," (he will say on such an occasion,) pointing to his lovely wife, and no less lovely children, "to the native goodness of her heart 1 am indebted for these, and all the other blessings which under Providence I possess. Verily, True Friendship is known by its fruits—in contradistinction to all else that goes under that name!"

Peuns' Oroce, Del. Co., Pa.

Written for the Ladies' Garland.

S^T A N Z A S

Inscribed to miss I. M. R., an affectionate friend and relative of the xDriler's. I sigh not for an honor'd name,

Or monarch's star-gemm'd crown;
I pant not after worldly fame,

Or badge of high renown.
But friendship's boon I fondly crave,

That I may share with thee,
And ne'er forget the joy it gave

When lavish'd first on me.

V

The look of love that from thine eye

Its winning glances threw,
Told me thy heart was beating high

With friendship, pure and true.
And cold the heart that ere could brook

A smile or tear of thine,
When from an eye that seemed to look

Inspired with love divine.

Forbid that I should e'er forget

In joy, in weal, or wo,
The happy hour when first we met

In friendship here below;
Where many a smile so bland and fair,

In worldly pomp arrayed,
Is but the courtier's subtle snare

In flattery displayed.

But, lady, who that knows thee well,

Can doubt thy trusting heart?
Where love and pure affection dwell,

That death can never part.
O! if but blest with such a friend,

When sorrows cross my way,
They soon in joy would have an end,

And cares should flee away.

But still a richer boon than this

I fain could wish for thee,—
That thou at last, in endless bliss

From sorrows may'st be free.
Then seek for joys which ne'er decay,

E'er life's last pulses beat,
So when thy days shall pass away

We may in glory meet. J. R. L.

Harmony, JV. J., Srft. 1842.

No. 5. « 7% fTi7/ be Done."—A Summer Evening Walk. 159

"THY WILL BE DONE."

A mother was kneeling in the soft light of the dying day, by the side of her suffering babe; the deep and low-breathed accents of the father went up in supplication, as if to the very ear of the Eternal. "O! Thou who didst weep at the grave of Lazarus, and dost note every pulsation of the human heart, look down in thy compassion on our helpless child. O! save him, for thy mercy's sake! Whatever else thou withholdest, give us the life of our sweet babe."

"Amen," responded the trembling voice of the heart-stricken mother, as she wiped away the cold sweat from his pale forehead. "O! William, I cannot give him up," she added, "he is so lovely, and then he is our only one; surely your petition will be granted."

The unconscious infant lay motionless in its cradle; its little bosom heaved with the faint breath of life; its tiny fingers were half hid beneath its golden hair, while the sweet smile that played around its fevered lips seemed to respond to the whisperings of angels, as if they were already welcoming the freed spirit to the land of light. The father and mother gazed upon it with an intensity that none but a parent's heart can feel. Gradually the smile relaxed—the hand fell down upon its bosom—the throbbing of the heart became more tranquil—a moisture diffused itself over the skin, and a sweet sleep fell upon it, clothing it as with a mantle.

Long and quietly it slumbered; and when the eye opened, and the lip moved, its cherub face seemed irradiated with unearthly intelligence and purity. Day after day, and night tffter night, the father and mother watched ■heir boy, as he was slowy restored to health End activity, God spared him, and he grew up to loveliness, the pride of his parents. Pestilence stalked abroad. Death laid low the young and beautiful. Still their child, as if by some talismanic spell, was preserved, and the fond mother thanked God in her heart, that he had lived to comfort her.

*****

Time passed on. Again the mother bent over him, a blighted, blasted being. The cherub smile of infantile innocence had given place to the intensity of remorse, and the sternness of despiir. The fair boy had grown to manhood. He had gone forth into the world. Ho had mingled with the giddy throng thai pursue the syren pleasure, till they find too late that, with her, joy is but a name, and hope but a phantom; that she leads to sorrow and to death. Her contaminating and withering influence over-mastered him, and he went onward until the poisonous

mildew of his guilt settled on his soul, and wasted his existence.

"Let me die!" exclaimed the wretched sufferer.

"O! that thou had'st died in the calmness oflhy childhood," murmured the self-accusing mother.

Again the father knelt by the bedside of his son, and his voice once more went up in prayer. "Whatsoever thou givest or withholdest, enable us to say, sincerely, Thy will be done,"

"Amen," clearly articulated the mother, and the angel of death took the spirit of the hopeless to the bar of God.

Written for the Ladies' Garland. A SUMMER EVENING WALK.

BY THOMAS L. HARRIS.

Alone, I wandered forth at eventime;
The day had passed in all its loveliness;
The sun, encircled with a drapery
Of crimson, gold, and purple-tinted clouds,
Behind the towering hills had gone to rest.
The busy hum of active life was hushed;
The strong-armed artizan, his labors done.
Enjoyed at home his sweet, well-earned, repose:
The play-ground was deserted, and the laugh—
The merry shout of happy infancy,
In its wild cadences, so musical
Pell on the ear no more.

My footsteps strayed
To where, amid the trees, flows quietly
The placid Mohawk, on its winding way.
The sapphire skies above the gentle stream,
Were dnrken'd not by clouds; their arch'd expanse
Were mirror'd in its quiet depths serene.
And from their homes afar the stars shone out,
As from a draperied couch a child's glad eyes.
The full-orbed, queenly moon, cast forth a flood
Of heaven-born radiance on the sleeping wave,
Until it gleamed like some bright, silvery cloud.
Unruffled by a ripple lay the stream,
Reposing 'neath the stars nnd soft moonbeams,
Save when the breathing of the western wind,
With perfume from the folded flow'rets laden,
Woke on its placid breast a sudden thrill,
Like that which moves the wanderer's beating heart
When some delicious melody of yore,
First heard in childhood's verdant vales afar.
Falls on his ear.

And as I wandered on,
A trembling vale of foliage hid from sight
The streams translucent bosom. But I knew
The windings of its path by the long grass
That grows in wild luxuriance near its brim,
And |>y the verdant carpet spread around.
Where spring the golden lilies, lightly waving,
And shrinking modestly from the embrace
Of the balmy air.

Methonght 'twould be sweet,
If. like this quiet stream, far from the strife
And enoyinps of the busy crowd of men.
And from the mart and city's ceaseless whirl,
For evermore aloof, in quietude,
I could in pleasant pathways journey on
The time of my allotted pilgrimage;
My course, aye marked by gentle, kindly deeds.
As this stream is by flowers; and all my words
As soft and full of healing as the breeze
That plays upon its surface.

And then, when
Passing down the still and dreamless grave.
As this fair stream goes to the dark, blue deep,
My memory would linger in the hearts
Of those who love me, like the flowers' perfume,
When its brief life hath gone!

Utica, JV. I'., July, 1842.

[graphic]

DAMASCUS.

"I wi .1 break also the bar of Damascus."—Amos, i. 5.

Damascus ranks as a city of high antiquity; if, indeed, it be not the oldest city on the globe: it is first mentioned in Gen. xiv. 15. It stands on the river Barrady (the Chrysorrhoas or Golden Stream of the ancient geographers,) in a beautiful and most fertile plain, about 160 miles northeast of Jerusalem, and 50 miles from the sea, on the east and southeast of Anti-Libanus, open to the south and east, and bounded on the other sides by the mountains. The region around it, including probably the valley between the ridges of Libanus and Anti-Libanus, is in the Old Testament called Syria of Damascus or Demesk, and by Strabo Ccelesyria. This city, which originally had its own kings, was taken by David (1 Sam. viii. 5, 6,) and subsequently by Jeroboam II. king of Israel. (2 Kings, xiv. 28.) Afterwards it was subject to the Assyrians. Babylonians, Persians, the Seleucidte, and the Romans. In the time of Saint Paul it appears to have been held by Aretas, king of Arabia Petrsea, the father-inlaw of Herod Antipas. (2 Cor. xi. 32, 33.) At this period it was so much thronged by Jews, that according to Josephus (War, book ii. ch. xx. \ 2.) ten thousand of them, by command of Nero, were put to death at once.

It may be accounted one of the most venerable places in the world for its antiquity. It is supposed to have been founded by Ux, the son of Aram; and is, at least, known to have existed in the time of Abraham, Gen. xv, 2. It was the residence of the Syrian kings, during the space of three centuries, and experienced a number of vicissitudes in every Beriod of its history. Its sovereign, Hadad, %hotn Josephus calls the first of its kings, was conquered by David, king of Israel. In the reign of Ahaz, it was taken by Tiglath Pileser, who slew its last king, Rezin, and added its provinces to the Assyrian empire. It was taken and plundered, also, by Sennacherib, Nebuchadnezzar, the generals of Alexander the Great, Judas Maccabeeus, and at length by the Romans in the war conducted by Pompey againBt Tigranes, in the year before Christ 65. During the time of the emperors, it was one of their principal arsenals in Asia, and is celebrated by the emperor Julian, even in his day, as "the eye of the whole East." About the year 634, it was taken by the Saracen princes, who made it the place of their residence, till Bagdad was prepared for their reception; and after suffering a variety of revolutions, it was taken and destroyed by Tamerlane, A. D. 1400. It was repaired by the Mamelukes, when they gained possession of Syria, but was wrested from them by the Turks, in 1506 ; and since

that period has formed the capital of one of their pachalics.

Modern Damascus, by the natives called El Sham (an appellation of uncertain meaning,) though often captured and several times demolished; has always risen again to splendor and dignity, and has in all ages been mentioned as one of the finest and most delightful situations in the world: it may be called the Florence of Turkey, and the flower of the Levant. Surrounded with orchards planted on the beautiful and fertile plain of the Barrady, its situation has been celebrated with enthusiasm by oriental writers, who rank the Valley of Damascus first of the four terrestrial paradises. It is two miles in length from north-east to south-west; but its breadth is not in proportion, being extremely narrow, and it is divided into twenty-three districts. It appears formerly to have been enclosed within three strong walls, the destruction of which is announced by the prophets Jeremiah (xlix. 27,) and Amos (i. 4, 5.) The first or innermost was the greatest in point of elevation, between which and the second was a ditch, and the third or exterior wall was the lowest. These walls had towers, some in a circular form, and others square. Mr. Rae Wilson considers the present wall, which is low and does not inclose it more than twothirds round, as standing on the site of the ancient inner wall; the others being broken down, and the ditches full of rubbish. During the crusades, the eastern part was accounted impregnable. For a short time, under the Ommiade dynasty, Damascus was the capital of the Saracen empire or khalifate: it is now the capital of a pashalik of the Ottoman empire. Its streets are narrow, in order to shade the inhabitants from the heat of the sun. The houses, and especially those which front the streets, are very indifferently built, chiefly of mud formed into the shape of bricks, and dried in the sun; but those towards the gardens, and in the squares, present a more handsome appearance, and many of them are spacious and elegant. The gates and doors are often adorned with marble portals, carved and inlaid with great beauty and variety; and the inside of the habitation, which is generally a large square, well-paved court, is ornamented with fragrant trees and marble fountains, and surrounded with splendid apartments, furnished and painted in the highest style of luxury. During great heats a kind of awning or veil is spread over the top of these courts. The market places are well constructed, and adorned with a rich colonnade of variegated marble. The principal public buildings are, the castle, which is about three hundred and forty paces in length; the hospital, a charitable establishment for strangers, composing a large quadrangle, lined with a colonnade, and roofed in small domes covered with lead; and the mosque, the entrance of which is supported by four large columns of red granite; the apartments in it are numerous and magnificent, and the top is covered with a cupola ornamented with two minarets.

Damascus is surrounded by a fruitful and delightful country, forming a plain nearly eighty miles in circumference; and the lands most adjacent to the city are formed into gardens of great extent, which are stored with fruit trees of every description. "No place in the world," says Mr. Maundrell, "can promise to the beholder at a distance a greater voluptuousness;" and he mentions a tradition of the Turks, that their prophet, when approaching Damascus, took his station upon a certain precipice, in order to view the city; and after considering its ravishing beauty and delightful aspect, was unwilling to tempt his frailty by going farther, but instantly took his departure with this remark, that there was but one paradise designed for man, and thai, for his part, he was resolved not to take his in this world. The air or water of Damascus, or both, are supposed to have a powerful effect in curmg the leprosy, or at least, in arresting its progress, while the patient remains in the place.

The total population of Damascus is estimated at 150,000 souls, of whom a small proportion only is composed of Jews; there are about 12,000 Christians of different sects and denominations. The remainder are Mohammedans. The Franciscan monks have a convent which bears the name of Saint Paul, the scene of whose miraculous conversion (related in the ninth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles) is pointed out to the Christian traveller, about a quarter of a mile from the eastern gate of the city: it is marked out by heaps of gravel and earth, and on the 25th day of January, annually, in commemoration of this event, the Christians in Damascus walk in procession, and read the history of the apostle's conversion, under the protection of a guard furnished to them by the pacha. Not far from this spot, the part in the wall is also shown from which Paul was let down by night in a basket (after the manner of Rahab in the case of the spies, Josh. ii. 15,) in order to avoid the fury of the persecuting Jews who watched at the gate to kill him on account of his change of principles. (Acts, ix. 25.) At a small distance is exhibited the place where he rested, till some of his friends joined him in his flight.

The house of Judas, in which Ananias restored sight to the apostle (Acts, ix. 17,) is a small grotto or cellar, containing a Christian altar and a Turkish praying place. The street in which this house stands, and which

is called " Straight" in Acts,ix. 11, forms the principal thoroughfare in this city: it is about half a mile in length, running from east to west; but as it is narrow, and the houses project into it in several places on both sides, it is difficult to form a clear idea of its length and straightness.

The zeal of the early Christians founded churches at Damascus; and a magnificent cathedral, which was dedicated to St. John the Baptist (whose head is said to be deposited here,) is now converted into a mosque. It is a noble edifice, six hundred and fifty feet in length, and one hundred and fifty in breadth, and has a large and beautiful marble court with a tank of water, and granite columns of the Corinthian order, supporting arches, the upper ones being half the height of the lower, and forming a double cloister. No Christian is permitted to enter this building. The other mosques are numerous, but in point of splendor are not to be compared with those of Constantinople.

Many of the Damascus Jews carry on an extensive commerce in foreign merchandise. They trade with Great Britain, and with the ports of France and Italy. Among them are some of the richest men in Syria—possessing from one to two millions of piasters, of which one hundred make a pound sterling, or four dollars forty-four cents of American money. They deal largely with the caravans which arrive from Mesopotamia, Persia, and all the regions of the East.

There is no city in the Holy Land, with the exception of Jerusalem, so interesting as this. It is the oldest one on the face of the earth, and stands a solitary, stately monument in the midst of decay. Babylon and Thebes were its contemporaries; but the former has passed away without leaving a trace of its magnificence, and the latter is re-1 presented only by its startling ruins. Still Damascus remains, and is now, with the exception of Constantinople, the largest city of the East.

Damascus has a peculiar importance in connexion with the progress of Christianity in these parts. It has already been visited by the agents of the Bible and Missionary Society. Being the great mart where eastern and western merchandise is exchanged, the general rendezvous of Islam caravans from the north and east in their progress to Mecca, and rendered comparatively a safe residence by the efficiency of Mehemet Ali, it opens one of the most important and extensive fields of missionary labor.

Another Paul may yet preach Christ in Damascus, and the moral aspect of this delightful country may present as cheering an appearance as the rich displays of its natural scenery.

[graphic]
« ElőzőTovább »