LETTERS TO MOTHERS.

LETTER I.

PRIVILEGES OF THE MOTHER.

MY FRIEND, if in becoming a mother, you have reached the climax of your happiness, you have also taken a higher place in the scale of being. A most important part is allotted you, in the economy of the great human family. Look at the gradations of your way onward; your doll, your playmates, your lessons; perhaps to decorate a beautiful person; to study the art of pleasing; to exult in your own attractions; to feed on adulation; to wear the garland of love; and then to introduce into existence a being never to die; and to feel your highest, holiest energies enlisted to fit it for this world and the next.

No longer will you now live for self; no longer be noteless and unrecorded, passing away without name or memorial among the people. It can no more be reproachfully said of you, that "you lend all your graces to the grave, and keep no copy."

"My cousin Mary of Scotland hath a fair son born unto her, and I am but a dead tree," said Queen Elizabeth, while the scowl of discontent darkened her brow. In bequeathing your own likeness to the world, you will naturally be anxious to array it in that beauty of virtue, which fades not at the touch of time. What a scope for your exertions, to render your representative, an honour to its parentage, and a blessing to its country.

You have gained an increase of power. The influence which is most truly valuable, is that of mind over mind. How entire and perfect is this dominion, over the unformed character of your infant. Write what you will, upon that printless tablet, with your wand of love. Hitherto, your influence over your dearest friend, your most submissive servant, has known bounds and obstructions. Now, you have over a new-born immortal, almost that degree of power which the mind exercises over the body, and which Aristotle compares to the "sway of a prince over a bond-man." The period of this influence must indeed pass away; but while it lasts, make good use of it.

Wise men have said, and the world begins to believe, that it is the province of woman to teach. You then, as a mother, are advanced to the head of that profession. I congratulate you. You hold that license which authorizes you to teach always. You have attained that degree in the College of Instruc

tion, by which your pupils are continually in your presence, receiving lessons whether you intend it or not, and if the voice of precept be silent, fashioning themselves on the model of your example. You cannot escape their imitation. You cannot prevent them from carrying into another generation, the stamp of those habits which they inherit from you. If you are thoughtless, or supine, an unborn race will be summoned as witnesses of your neglect.

"Meantime, the mighty debt runs on,

The dread account proceeds,

And your not-doing is set down

Among your darkest deeds."

In ancient times, the theory that the mother was designated by nature as an instructor, was sometimes admitted and illustrated. The philosopher Aristippus was the pupil of maternal precepts. Revered for his wisdom, he delighted in the appellation of Metrodidactos, the "taught of his mother."

"We are indebted," says Quintilian, "for the eloquence of the Gracchi, to their mother Cornelia," who, though qualified to give publick lectures in philosophy at Rome, did not forget to be the faithful teacher in private, of those, whom she so justly styled "her jewels." St. Jerome also bears similar testimony. "The eloquence of the Gracchi derived its perfection from the mother's elegance and purity of language."

Should heathen mothers be permitted to be more faithful in their duties, than those who are under bonds to the life-giving Gospel? "A good mother," says the eloquent L'Aime Martin, "will seize upon her child's heart, as her special field of activity. To be capable of this, is the great end of female education. I have shewn that no universal agent of civilization exists, but through mothers. Nature has placed in their hands, our infancy and youth. I have been among the first to declare the necessity of making them, by improved education, capable of fulfilling their natural mission. The love of God and man, is the basis of this system. In proportion as it prevails, national enmities will disappear, prejudices become extinguished, civilization spread itself far and wide, one great people cover the earth, and the reign of God be established. This is to be hastened, by the watchful care of mothers over their offspring, from the cradle upwards."

What an appeal to mothers! What an acknowledgement of the dignity of their office! The aid of the "weaker vessel," is now invoked by legislators and sages. It has been discovered that there are signs of disease in the body politick, which can be best allayed, by the subordination taught in families, and through her agency to whom is committed the moulding of the whole mass of mind in its first formation."

Woman is surely more deeply indebted to the

government that protects her, than man, who bears within his own person the elements of self-defence. But how shall her gratitude be best made an operative principle? Secluded as she wisely is, from any share in the administration of government, how shall her patriotism find legitimate exercise? The admixture of the female mind in the ferment of political ambition, would be neither safe, if it were permitted, nor to be desired, if it were safe. Nations who have encouraged it, have usually found their cabinetcouncils perplexed by intrigue, or turbulent with contention. History has recorded instances, where the gentler sex have usurped the sceptre of the monarch, or invaded the province of the warrior. But we regard them either with amazement, as a planet rushing from its orbit, or with pity, as the lost Pleiad, forsaking its happy and brilliant sisterhood.

Still, patriotism is a virtue in our sex, and there is an office where it may be called into action, a privilege which the proudest peer might envy. It depends not on rank or wealth, the canvassings of party, or the fluctuations of the will of the people. Its throne is the heart, its revenue in Eternity. This office is that of maternal teacher. It is hers by hereditary right. Let her make it an inalienable possession. Nature invested her with it, when giving her the key of the infant soul, she bade her enter it through the affections. Her right to its first love, her intuitive discernment of its desires and impulses,