Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

tremble amid our happiness, if we took not refuge in Him.

I have seen a young and beautiful mother, herself like a brilliant and graceful flower. Nothing could divide her from her infant. It was to her as a twin-soul. She had loved society, for there she had been as an idol. But what was the fleeting delight of adulation, to the deep love that took possession of her whole being? She had loved her father's house. There, she was ever like a songbird, the first to welcome the day, and the last to bless it. Now, she wreathed the same blossoms of the heart around another home, and lulled her little nursling with the same inborn melodies.

It was sick. She hung over it. She watched it. She comforted it. She sat whole nights with it in her arms. It was to her like the beloved of the King of Israel, "feeding among the lillies." Under the pressure of this care, there was in her eye, a deep and holy beauty, which never gleamed there, when she was radiant in the dance, or in the halls of fashion, the cynosure. She had been taught to love God, and his worship, from her youth up; but when health again glowed in the face of her babe, there came from her lip, such a prayer of flowing praise, as it had never before breathed.

And when in her beautiful infant, there were the first developements of character, and of those pre

ferences and aversions which leave room to doubt whether they are from simplicity or perverseness, and whether they should be repressed or pitied, and how the harp might be so tuned as not to injure its tender and intricate harmony, there burst from her soul a supplication more earnest, more self-abandoning, more prevailing, than she had ever before poured into the ear of the majesty of heaven. So the feeble hand of the babe that she nourished, led her through more profound depths of humility, to higher aspirations of faith. And I felt that the affection, to whose hallowed influence she had so yielded, was guiding her to a higher seat among the "just made perfect."

3

LETTER III.

INFANCY.

INTERCOURSE with infancy is improving, as well as delightful. It subdues pride, and deepens piety. Obdurate natures are softened by its sweet smile, and the picture of its sleeping innocence. Its entire helplessness, its perfect trust, dissolve the soul. The bold wanderer in the world's crooked ways, gazes, and recalls the time when he was himself unstained. Tender remembrances take him captive, and ere he is aware, the tear trickles down his cheeks in fond regret, perhaps in healthful penitence.

The construction of the infant's frame; the little beating heart, sending life-blood through its thousand thread-like channels; the lungs, fastening with delight on the gift of the pure air; the countless absorbents, busied in their invisible work-shops; the net-work of nerves, minute as the filaments of thought, quickening with sensation; the tender brain, beginning its mysterious agency; the silken fringe of the eyes, opening wider as some brilliant colour strikes the dazzled retina; the slender fingers unfolding themselves, as some new sound winds its

way through the ear's untrodden labyrinth, giving its key-tone to the wondering mind; all the mystery and beauty of this miniature temple, where the etherial spirit is a lodger, lead the observer to an Almighty Architect, and constrain him to adore.

But especially is the care of infancy salutary to the character. It inspires the gentle, pitying, and hallowed affections. Mothers, the blessing of this ministry is ours. Let us study night and day, the science that promotes the welfare of our infant.

We cannot but be aware that our duty to it begins before its birth. Every irritable feeling should then be restrained, and the overflowing joy and hope of our religion be our daily aliment. Exercise among the beautiful works of nature, the infusion of social feeling, and contemplation of the most cheering subjects, should be cherished by her who has the glorious hope of introducing into this world a being never to die; who, already a part of herself, adds warmth and frequency to her prayers, and whom, "having not seen, she loves."

To those, who from a depression which they imagine they cannot controul, are inclined too much to seclude themselves, we would address the eloquent words of Milton: "In vernal seasons

of the year, when the air is calm and pleasant, it were both an injury, and a sullenness against nature, not to go forth and see her riches, and par take in her rejoicing with heaven and earth,"

The first three months of infancy should be a season of quietness. The unfolding organs require the nursing of silence and of love. The delicate system, like the mimosa, shrinks from every rude touch. Violent motions are uncongenial to the newborn. Loud, sharp sounds, and even glaring colours, should be excluded from the nursery. The visual and auditory nerves, those princely ambassadors to the mind, are still in embryo. Inure them tenderly and gradually to their respective functions.

The first months of infancy are a spot of brightness to a faithful and affectionate mother; a dream of bliss, from which she wakes to more complicated duties; a payment for past suffering, a preparation for future toil. I heard a lady, who had brought up a large family, say it was the "only period of a mother's perfect enjoyment." At its expiration comes dentition, with a host of physical ills. The character begins to develope, and sometimes to take that tinge which occasional pain of body or fretfulness of temper impart. The alphabet of existence is learned. We can perceive that its combinations are not always in harmony. The little being takes hold upon this life of trial. Soon, its ignorance must be dispelled, its perceptions guided, its waywardness quelled, its passions held in check, by one who often feels herself too infirm for the mighty task.

Yet, were I to define the climax of happiness

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »