Part 6

"All these and many more. She was never weary of relating the changes of his life, and the sorrows of her early widowhood. Deeply did she impress on the mind of her son, and of his offspring, the evils of war, and the blessings of peaceful Christianity. Under his roof she dwelt, cherished and venerated, till the children of the third generation rose up to call her blessed. Never shall I forget with what emotions of grief and reverence he laid his hand upon her dying eyes, and wept at her tomb. The piety and love of peace which she had early instilled into his heart, rendered his home the abode of tranquillity, and domestic happiness. His industry, and correct judgment restored competence to a family, which the desolations of war had impoverished, and almost annihilated. Our paternal residence, even now, seems to rise up before me, visible and distinct, as in a picture. Uniting simplicity with comfort, it stood on a gentle slope of ground. In front, a row of chestnuts reared a canopy of lofty shade. Here the traveller sometimes rested, refreshing himself with the water of a little fountain, which, clear as crystal, oozed into a rustic limestone reservoir. In the rear of our residence, rose a hill where our goats found herbage. There they might sometimes be seen, maintaining so slight a footing on projecting cliffs, that they seemed to hang suspended by the mouth from the slight branch they were cropping. The tall poplars, which were interspersed among the foliage, conveyed to us the pensive murmur of approaching storms, and around their trunks, mossy seats were constructed, where we sometimes sat, watching the chequered rays of the moon, and singing our simple provincial melodies. Stretching at the foot of this hill, was the small domain whence we drew our subsistence. Diligence and economy made it fully equal to our wants, and to the claims of charity. Over the roots of the filbert, fig, and mulberry, crept the prolific melon. The gourd, supporting itself by their trunks, lifted its yellow globes into the air like orbs of gold, while still higher rose the aspiring vine, filling its glowing clusters for the wine-press. Our fields of wheat gave us bread, and the bearded oat rewarded the faithful animal that gathered in our harvest. Bees, hastening with busy hum to their sheltered cells, provided the luxury of our evening repast. The olive yielded us its treasures, and furnished an emblem of the peace that pervaded our abode. A genial soil made our labours light, and correct principles converted those labours into happiness. Our parents early taught their large family of twelve children, that indolence was but another name for vice and disgrace; that he, who for his subsistence rendered no return of usefulness, was unjust to society, and disobedient to God. So our industry commenced in infancy. In our hive there were no drones. We early began to look with pity on those whose parents neglected to teach them that well-directed industry was bliss. Among us there were no servants. With the first beams of morning, the band of brothers were seen cheerfully entering on their allotted employments. Some broke the surface of the earth, others strowed seeds or kernels of fruits, others removed the weeds which threatened to impede the harvest. By the same hands was our vintage tended, and our grain gathered into the garner. Our sisters wrought the flax which we cultivated, and changed the fleece of our flocks into a wardrobe for winter. They refreshed us after our toil with cakes flavoured with honey, and with cheeses, rivalling in delicacy those of Parma. They arranged in tasteful baskets of their own construction, fresh fruits or aromatic herbs, or rich flowers for the market. They delighted sometimes to mingle in our severer labours; and when we saw the unwonted exertion heightening the bloom of their cheeks, or placed in their hair the half-blown wild rose, to us, who had seen nothing more fair, they were perfect in grace and beauty. Sometimes at twilight, or beneath the soft evening air of summer, we mingled in the dance, to the music of our flute and viol. Our parents and our grandmother seated near, enjoyed the pastime, and spoke of their own youth, and of the goodness of the Almighty Sire. Often, assembled in our pleasant parlour, each read in turn to the listening auditory, histories of what man has been, or fictitious representations of what he might be, from the pages of the moral painter or the poet. The younger ones received regular lessons in the rudiments of education, and the elder ones, in succession, devoted a stated portion of each day to the pursuit of higher studies, under the direction of their parents. When the family circle convened in the evening, he was the happiest who could bring the greatest amount of useful and interesting information to the general stock. The acquisition of knowledge, which to indolent minds is so irksome, was to us a delightful recreation from severer labours. The exercise which gave us physical vigour, seemed also to impart intellectual energy. The application to which we were inured gave us the more entire control of our mental powers, while the almost unvaried health that we enjoyed preserved elasticity of spirits, and made all our pleasures more sweet. Such was our mode of life, that we were almost insensible to inconvenience from the slight changes of the seasons. In any temporary indisposition or casualty, our mother was our ministering angel. Her acquaintance with the powers of the medicinal plants, that filled her favourite part of the garden, and still more, her intimate knowledge of the little diversities in our constitutions, usually produced a favourable result. She also perfectly understood the slight shades in our disposition and character, and by thus tracing the springs of action to their minuter sources, advanced with more certainty to the good ends of education. Mingled with her love, was a dignity, a decision that commanded our respect. Without this, the parental relation loses its influence, and sacrifices that attribute of authority with which it was invested by the Eternal. Piety was taught us by the example of our parents. We were early led to consider the morning and evening orison and the Sabbath, as periods in which we were invited to mingle our thoughts with angels; and that he who was negligent or indifferent to them, forfeited one of the highest privileges of his nature.

Thus happy was our domestic government. It mingled the pastoral and patriarchal features. I have never seen any system more favourable to individual improvement, and the order, harmony, and prosperity of the whole.

But I am forgetting, dear child, that you must be wearied with my wandering tale and numerous reflections. It is so pleasant to recall the days of childhood, and the images of my parents and brothers and sisters, that I may have taken an old man's privilege too freely, and talked beyond your patience."

"How much I am indebted to you, my dear grandfather, for your kind evening's entertainment. I hope I shall profit from the moral of your story, as well as from the pleasure of listening to it. I trust I shall learn to love peace, and industry, and piety."

"Strive to do so, my dear boy, and ask God's help, and you will be sure to be happy. Obey your parents, and respect all who are wiser and better than yourself, whether rich or poor. This will lay the foundation of that virtue and subordination to the laws of the land, which make a good citizen.

Should you live to be old, like me, you will view objects differently from what you do now. You will stand upon an isthmus, between the _things that have been, and the things that are_. On one hand, will come up the waves of memory, bold and strong; on the other, the little billows of hope, like such bubbles as children play with. Experience will be there, gathering riches even from rocks and quicksands. Then, when you look back, like me, and find your dear parents gone, you will wish that you might for one moment recall them from the grave, to render them your undying offering of gratitude, not for that indulgence which blinded their eye to your faults, and gave you the weak gratification of an hour, perhaps, at the expense of an eternity, but for that salutary discipline which uprooted error, established good habits, and taught that 'fear of God which maketh wise unto salvation.'"

The Old Watch.

My Father's watch! Thy face is dear, And still thou speak'st to me The self-same words that met my ear, When in old times of joyous cheer I gladly climb'd his knee.

For oft as to his side I clung, Thou wert mine own to hold, Though to my simple mind, thy tongue Uttering "_tick, tick_", to old and young Seem'd mystery untold.

And still thy wondrous movements too Amaz'd my gazing eye, Thy hands that to their purpose true Their undeclining circles drew, Were magic strange and high.

But thou from days of toil and care, That manhood's powers employ, Didst duly point him home to share The garden-walk, the fireside chair, The feast of social joy.

When those whom most he loved were nigh, And with beguiling flight, The downy-pinioned hours swept by, Thou, with a calm, unswerving eye Didst note their numbers right.

And he, who knew so well to test Of time, the fleeting prize, Did on thy meek monitions rest And take their wisdom to his breast, And gird him for the skies.

But now, no more serenely sweet He turns to thee for aid, Yet still thy bloodless heart doth beat. Though summon'd to a lone retreat His own in dust is laid.

My Father's Friend! what memories bless'd Thy lingering accents wake, Here, in my sacred casket rest, Or slumber on my filial breast, Most honour'd for his sake.

Entertaining Books.

The age in which we live abounds with entertaining books. Stories of every description, some of them containing good lessons, are exceedingly numerous. Those of the better class furnish food for fancy and feeling.

Fiction has its peculiar attractions, and so has truth. Imagination can scarcely devise more strange events, more striking characters, or more romantic results, than occur on the pages of history. The entertainment derived from true books is the most valuable, because it is the most worthy of being remembered. The mind rests upon it with satisfaction. It accords with its native tastes. The child as soon as it can speak, says, "Please to tell me a _true_ story." Those who are most familiar with unfolding infancy, agree, that incidents simplified from the Scriptures, delight it, though they may be frequently repeated.

So, from the great storehouse of history, the young may entertain and enrich themselves at the same time. By extending their acquaintance through past ages and distant nations, the powers of thought expand themselves, an acquaintance with illustrious characters is formed, and knowledge gained which will be profitable through life, both for reflection and conversation.

Some have objected, that a wide range of history may give the young mind a premature introduction to the vices and follies that disgrace mankind. Yet thus to study them on the map of man, and to form a correct opinion of good and evil, and to deepen the love of virtue, and the hatred of vice, by the force of selected examples, might prepare the young better to understand character, and resist temptation, in the actual struggle of life. The entertainments of history may be as safe as those of fiction, and more salutary. If they sometimes reveal the whirlpools of ambition or the abysses of cruelty, they change the scene, and present the quiet waters of peace fertilizing the valleys, and the pure rose of virtue blooming in the wilderness. Examples of true greatness, generosity, and piety, if less frequent than those of an opposite nature, borrow force from contrast, and may therefore make a deeper impression, and awaken a stronger desire of imitation.

The entertainments of history aid in acquiring a knowledge of human nature. We there see what man has been from the beginning, and what motives or temptations have moved him to good or to evil. Great care should be taken to form a correct judgment, and to measure by a true standard of excellence those whom the world has called illustrious.

Especially, should opinions be cautiously formed, of those whose fame rests only upon military exploits. Though the pride, cruelty, and revenge, that stain many of those whom the Old World applauded as heroes, are in a measure palliated because they were heathen, still _we_ are bound to judge of right and wrong, as Christians. When we think of the misery, mourning, and death, that marked their course upon the earth, we cannot but wonder by what rule of equity, "_one_ murder should make a _villain_, and _many, a hero_!"

To purchase a single conquest, how many eyes have wept, how many bosoms been pierced, how many hearts broken. If victories, and triumphs, and trophies, dazzle the eye, look at their dark reverse: torrents of blood flowing, widows and orphans plunged in despair, throngs of unprepared souls driven into the presence of their Maker.

The patriotism that dares danger for the preservation of liberty, the firmness that repels the encroachments of tyranny, the courage that protects those whose lives are entrusted to its care, differ from the ambition that is willing to build its glory on contention, suffering, and death. This spirit is at war with His precepts, at whose birth the harps of angels breathed the song of "Peace on earth, and good-will to men."

History may be read by the young with a resolution of transcribing into their own character, whatever it exhibits that is "just, lovely, and of good report." Thus will its pages not only afford rational entertainment, but be subservient to usefulness and piety in this life, and to the happiness of that which is to come.

The New Year.

Who, with smiles, and wishes fair, Through drifted snows and branches bare, Comes, and liberal-handed brings Countless gifts, and pleasant things, Many a cake, and many a kiss, Gilded toys, and sports of bliss, Pictured books, with covers gay: Who thus crowns our holiday? While the sleigh-bells' merry peal Rings, and glides the skater's heel? The glad New Year.

Who, a tablet in his breast Hides, with characters impress'd, Mystic signs, and tints that show Chance, and change of joy and woe, Wreaths of hope in darkness laid Boasted wealth a winged shade, Brows that fade in youthful bloom, Empty cradle, open tomb: Who, alas! such course shall tread Ere his farewell words are said? The sad New Year.

Who, of those that never stray Wilfully, from Duty's way, Seek for knowledge, prize the truth, Wisdom gain in early youth, With a pure, and peaceful mind Live in love with all mankind, And a Saviour's precepts dear, Treasure in His holy fear: Who, of such leaves record high On the pages of the sky? The bless'd New Year.

Cyrus.

Cyrus is among the most interesting characters described in ancient history. He seemed fitted by nature, as well as by education, for the exalted sphere that was allotted him. He is usually considered as the founder of the Persian empire, and was born about 600 years before the Christian era. He was beautiful in person, and still more admirable for the amiable qualities of his mind. His early training inured him to study, the endurance of fatigue, and the control of his appetites and passions. In his first twelve years of life, he was said to surpass all of his own age in knowledge, and a frank, noble dignity of carriage.

At this early period, he was sent to the court of his grandfather, Astyages, the Median king, where he remained for five years. There, the temptations of luxury and self-indulgence, by which he was surrounded, had no power to draw him from temperance and simplicity. He was ever anxious to make peace between those who differed, and to obtain pardon for such as had offended. So gentle, generous, and beneficent was he, as to become the idol of the people among whom he dwelt.

In his expedition into Assyria with his father, though still but a youth, he discovered great judgment, courage, and presence of mind. Military talents and skill, were in those times held essential to every illustrious man, and these he eminently possessed. After his conquest of Babylon and marriage with a Median princess, three kingdoms were united under his sway: Persia, Media, and Assyria. When he was peacefully settled in his great empire, he busied himself with framing laws for its prosperity and repose. "For a king," said he, "should be the shepherd of his people, and exercise vigilance and care over his flock."

This sentiment reminds us of the prophecy of Isaiah, uttered more than a century before the birth of this prince, and 170 years before the fall of Babylon, which it also predicts: "That saith of Cyrus, he is my shepherd, and shall perform all my pleasure."

Prosperity crowned his efforts for the good of his people; and unbroken health, the reward of temperance and tranquillity of spirit, enabled him to persevere in these efforts. Yet he kept in his secret heart, a fear, founded on the changes of this mortal life, and the frailty of man, which restrained all pride, and kept him as humble as he was active and powerful. Of him it might have been said, as it was of our own Washington, that true merit was the foundation of his greatness.

Therefore, he affected no self-importance, but was affable to all, and repaid by cordial attachment. Cicero asserts that during the whole period of his reign, he was never heard to speak a rough or angry word. Xenophon speaks of him, as exhibiting the "model of a perfect government." Herodotus modifies this praise, and charges him with some faults. But the most exalted characters are subject to error, and the purest may be misunderstood or misrepresented. Even patriarchs, prophets, and apostles, have taught us by their own failings, the infirmity of our nature, and we should not require or expect perfection in others, until we are able to give an example of it ourselves.

When Cyrus approached death, he called around him his children and chief officers, gave them solemn and excellent advice by which to regulate their future conduct, and, thanking Heaven for all its blessings, calmly resigned his breath.

Cambyses, his successor, supplied mournful proof of the contrast that may exist between the son and the father. He was barbarous both at home and abroad, and put to death his own brother, from malignant envy, because he was able to shoot with a larger bow than himself. We will turn from the contemplation of such wickedness, to some of the last words of the great Cyrus to his children, which are here presented in a poetical garb:

Behold, I die! Restore my form To dust, to darkness, and the worm: For from the earth it first arose. And there, at last, it finds repose.

Yet when this breath forsakes the clay, Think ye the spirit shall decay? No, no, my sons! Its mystic flight Hath ever mock'd your keenest sight, Even when it deign'd with mortal care This prison of the flesh to share: So, when stern Death my frame shall blot, It lives, though you perceive it not.

Believe you trace through yonder sky Your disembodied father's eye, And be your motives pure and high: But dread the ages yet unborn Who stamp your deeds with praise or scorn: Dread more than all, the Powers who seal That sentence, man can ne'er repeal.

Rome and its Rulers.

The magnificent city of Rome was at first a rude hamlet of ruder people. Its earliest buildings were upon the Palatine Hill, near the Tiber. In process of time, it extended itself over the six adjacent eminences. Hence the name that it sometimes bears of the "seven-hilled city."

Two brothers, Romulus and Remus, were its founders, 752 years before the birth of Christ. They were twins, and trained up in the humble and hardy habits of a shepherd's life. But from feeding their peaceful flocks they aspired to rule men.

Romulus reared a wall around a portion of the new settlement, in which he took pride. Remus, in sport, or contempt, jumped over it, saying that he had given proof it would afford no protection against invaders. Romulus, forgetting the love he should have borne to his twin-brother, in a transport of rage struck him dead upon the spot. Thus, to the first king of Rome, as to the first-born of Eden, might have been said, "The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto thee from the ground." He who gave his own name to the Mistress of the World, left that name stained with the crime of fratricide.

The kings of Rome were the same in number as the hills on which she seated herself. The seventh, and last, was Tarquinius Superbus. After the abolition of the royal sway she had various forms of government. Sometimes her rulers bore the title of Consuls, Dictators, Tribunes, Ediles, and Questors. Then the supreme power was vested in Emperors, of whom there were fifty-five. Some of these were fearful examples of every vice. The excess of luxurious indulgence and pitiless cruelty darken their names in history.

Among this mass of shameless rulers, five appeared in regular succession, who, by their comparatively virtuous course, have obtained the honourable distinction of the "good Emperors." The first of this line was Nerva, who began his reign in the year 96 after the Christian era, when he was himself quite advanced in age. He was a native of Spain, and the first foreigner who had been permitted to wear Rome's imperial purple. He was welcomed with great joy, for the people had just been suffering from the monstrous barbarities of Domitian. Nerva was a man of gentle temper, and like Numa Pompilius, the second king, who had reigned about eight centuries before him, a true lover of peace. With paternal care he used the public money for the public good, instead of wasting it in mad extravagance, like his predecessors. Unfortunately, his sway was short, only about sixteen months, when he fell a victim to a sudden fever, at the age of sixty-six. His memory was gratefully embalmed, for his justice and generosity, and the tranquillity he had given to the empire.

Trajan, his successor, was also born in Spain. In his youth he had been the pupil of Plutarch, the philosopher, who after his elevation thus addressed him in an affectionate speech "Continue the command of your passions. Make virtue the scope of all your actions. You have it in your power to render me the most honoured of men, by continuing your present course of conduct. If you follow my instructions, I shall glory in having given them. If you neglect them, this address shall be my testimony, that you have not erred through the counsel or authority of Plutarch."