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unchanging friend of riper years, and the solace of their declining age.
No father or mother, I may safely affirm, will ever object to her introduction into their families even in these times of pecuniary embarrassment and difficulty; for she entails no additional expence. She can, literally live upon nothing; and as to wages, she rather remunerates her employers than receives them. She is never found in any one's way, but her services are alike beneficial in the kitchen, and in the attic, in the school. room, and in the drawing-room.
Parents need fear no encroachments upon their rights, for where she dwells they will ever find themselves the most honored; their wishes the most studied, and their commands the most promptly obeyed; while the most tenacious domestic Deed not fear the infringement of any of her privileges. To the governess, also, she will prove an invaluable auxiliary. But her influence is, perhaps, the most decidedly shown by the number of little casualties she prevents, rather than by the positive actions she performs. She strengthens the memory so much, that “I quite forgot,” and “ I never thought of that,” are phrases which are much less frequently heard in the houses where she dwells than in others.
She sees that lessons are learned in good time, and that exercises are not put off till the last possible minute. She takes care that while there is a place for every thing, every thing shall he put in its place, so that when wanted it may be fetched without busile or confusion. She is not only a great mender of old clothes, but she preserves new clothes from becoming old so soon as they otherwise might do, by not carelessly exposing them to dust or rain, and by a timely application of the needle when necessary. She diminishes the consumption of food, or rather, I should say, prevents any waste of it, by not permitting any one to supply his plate with a larger portion than he is likely to eat.
These are all trifles, it is true, but daily life is made up of trifles, and the difference between the comforts of a family where little things are attended to, and where they are not, is no trifling one. She encourages the young to think much of their absent friends - to write frequently, not merely when they happen to be fond of writing, but even when it is distasteful to themselves, on the principle that every one should make it a point of conscience to diffuse as much happiness as he can. Those who are under her influence will, therefore, not put off writing to an absent parent or aunt till the thought suddenly strikes them, that they will be expecting to hear; they will rather anticipate their wishes, and procure them a pleasant surprise by letting them receive an epistle before they expected it. She is careful, too, as to what they write. She is a great enemy to common-places; to letters that might be stereotyped so as to suit a whole circle of correspondents. She teaches them to reflect when they sit down, as to whom they are going to address, and when they last wrote to them, and then to consider what has occurred since they last wrote that is most likely to interest that correspondent.
While speaking of correspondence, there is one point I may mention, to which she has only lately turned her attention, but which she is now anxious to induce all under her influence to comply with. It is this, so to arrange their correspondence, as to have no letters passing through any post office on Sunday. Prizing as she does the weekly return of the hallowed day of rest, and anxious to spare those individuals whom she sees, all unnecessary labor on that day; she remembers that it is equally culpable to take up the time of those whom we do not see--that their souls are equally precious with ours—that to them, as much as to ourselves, was the command given to rest on that day, and that the sin of violating it must be shared by thase who render it compulsory. Though it is little in this way that she can prevent, yet, like the old negro woman, she reminds her young friends that,
“Every body is Somebody, and
Every body can do something.” And this leads me to observe, that great as are the exertions she uses to fit the young for being the comforts and the ornaments of their earthly homes, yet, that her greatest efforts are employed to qualify them for the heavenly mansions, which she earnestly desires they may one day fill; to impress them with a conviction that life is only valuable as a preparation for eternity-an eternity which must come whe her they allow
themselves to contemplate it or not. She sometimes quotes an expression that she once heard, that, “The pendulum of Being, once set in motion, must throb, and throb, and throb, through all eternity.” And her highest wish is, that it should be an eternity of happiness. In fact, there is nothing too minute, nothing too great, for her watchful care; none too young to be placed under her guidance ; and none too old to be benefited by her counsels.
In conclusion, I may mention, that none need be deterred from applying for her services, under a dread that there will be such numerous applications for her attendance, that they must necessarily be too late ; for she has the power of so allotting her time that she can attend to all who need her, without neglect of any, however widely apart their residences may be. I may mention for your own information, in case any inquiries are directed to you as to the name of the individual, that in this country she is called –Consideration.
Having thus, I hope, proved, that in the most enlarged sense of the word, I wish all your young readers a Happy New Year,
I remain, Mr. Editor,
THE THREE WORDS.
A TALE ABOUT TEACHING. It is usual on beginning a story, to give the reader some account of the persons he is about to introduce, or at all events to describe the birth, parentage, and education, the position and circumstances of its chief actor. To this precedent, I shall, in some measure conform, though my young friends must not expect a full disclosure of every point in my history.
My name, then, is Charles Enderby, and I am, in years, nearer fifty than forty, though I still think myself a young man. Of my personnel, it must suffice to say that I am not so good-looking as I was twenty years ago,—that I am hale and hearty, live in a country district, and usually dress in a full suit of black, a little the worse for wear.
Though not in full duty as a minister of the gospel, I frequently officiate in that capacity, in visiting our sick neighbours, in ministering from house to house, and in conducting the services of the sanctuary. Perhaps my opinion upon the qualifications necessary for this high office may differ from those of others, though I sincerely believe they accord with the principles of Scripture, and are such as influenced the grandfathers of the church who lived before patristic superstitions were invented. I do not intend to tell the reader whether I am Churchman or a Dissenter, as these words are interpreted in the present day. He will perhaps find this out in the course of the following narrative, But this is of little consequence, since I am quite content with that common family name which was first given to the disciples at Antioch. Perhaps I may be allowed to say that I am a great stickler for apostolic succession, believing that no man who has not the spirit of the apostles can be a worthy preacher of the gospel. I believe too, that apart from those natural qualifications which give propriety, dignity, and efficiency to the christian ministry, every steward of Christ's mysteries should make Saint Peter his model in, at least, these three things, which he urges as evidences of his authority in the church—he was an elder, a man of high standing, and deep and long religious experience; he was a witness of the sufferings of Christ-constantly looking to, and recognizing the great work of redemption; and he was a partaker of the glory to be revealed, living for, and hasting towards, another and a better kingdom. With these, as the substance of my ordination vows, I have, therefore, ventured to take office in the christian ministry.
In the little tale which follows, the reader must not expect me to describe those scenes or circumstances only, which have come before me when girded, so to speak, with my professional harness. I am going to write more as a man of common sense and everyday experience, than as a minister; telling the reader what I saw, said, thought, and did in my ordinary contact with men of all kinds, at home and abroad, in the high ways and hedges. There will, however, be one general purpose kept in view ; - a purpose which in these days, especially, demands the earnest attention not only of ministers, but of all classes of individuals. I shall attempt an anatomy of the great topic of the day-Education. With this end I shall describe only those incidents in my varied history, which bear upon that important question, attempting to
show that ignorance, like idleness, is “ the gate of all harms," and to illustrate that great scriptural rule—" That the soul be without knowledge, it is not good." I shall then, perhaps, prove that we ought not to forget, in our solicitude for man's better nature, that he is an animal after all, and that the mind cannot be well taught, whilst the body is all at ease, from cold, nakedDess, poverty, hunger or disease; and that when instruction is administered, it ought to be accompanied by deeds of love and sympathy. These considerations will introduce the important enquiry “ What is Education?” and I then hope to demonstrate, that to fear God and keep his commandments, constitute the whole duty of man. In doing this, we shall see if the world generally has yet learned this lesson - whether those, in fact, who rank among the educated classes, are thus taught of God; and the result will probably show, that one reason for the fearful prevalence of error, under the forms of avowed infidelity, Romanism, all kinds of heterodoxy, and especially puseyism, is to be found in the forgetfulness or neglect of that fundamental axiom, —“The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil, is understanding."
My story opens on a bleak, bitter day in January, the ground covered with snow, and the sky dark and lowering, as if predictive of a farther fall before night. A thin cutting east wind is rocking and rattling the branches of the elms beside our litile cottage, and even within doors, the little ones are not very willing to stir from the fire. As for my good wife, she has always so much
to do that she has little time to think about the weather; and • our family reading, after breaktast, being over, she has just told me
that John Curtis, our neighbour a few miles off, is unwell, and that perhaps I might as well walk over and enquire about
The fireside looks cheerful, and I had just made up my mind to a quiet morning with my books; but some how or other, my conscience tells me I must act upon her hint. In walking to the window, though our rooms are any thing but large, my courage and my physical constitution are both chilled, and I stand for a few moments watching the heavy wagon that is just passing, carefully packed to a great height and covered in with a tarpaulin, powdered with the snow of the past night, which