Mrs. Whittelsey's Magazine for Mothers and Daughters

Having thus seen the general and ultimate design of woman's creation is to glorify God, our next inquiry is, Is there any particular mode by which she is to fulfill this duty? How can she most glorify God and enjoy him in this life? In order to answer these inquiries it becomes necessary for us to examine her peculiar nature. That woman differs from man in her very nature is obvious, and the peculiarities of her organization clearly intimate that her Maker has assigned to her peculiar duties—that she has her allotted sphere for which infinite wisdom has fitted her. To enter upon all these peculiarities would require a volume. I must therefore be content with a brief notice of some of the more prominent and acknowledged ones.

Her physical organization is more delicate than that of man. She possesses not the muscular power which belongs to him, and is therefore not designed to undergo the outward toil and hard labor of life. The same toil and physical exertion which will strengthen and increase the power of the man, will often weaken and destroy her more delicate organism. And when, in addition to this, you consider that to her alone is committed the entire maternal care, you have not only the difference between the two sexes distinctly marked, but you have also an intimation of where her peculiar sphere is to be found, and in accordance with this physical difference you will find a corresponding difference in her true spiritual and moral nature. No one who has had around him a youthful family circle has failed to notice that even from the cradle there is a difference in the very nature of sons and daughters. Every little girl knows that she is different from boys of her own age, though she may not be able just now to point out that difference; she knows that there are many things which boys like, and which they do, which she does not like and will not do, and this difference only widens as we advance in life.

There is generally a delicacy of feeling, of thought, and of action, corresponding with the delicacy of her physical organism. God hath made her gentle by nature, and kind. She likes and longs to be loved and to love, must have some object on which she can center her affections. She admires flowers, and everything which is beautiful and delicate like herself. She has a finer imagination and more curiosity than men. She is more conscientious and truthful, and though a fallen, sinful creature, and by nature like us all, a hater of God, yet there is not so decided an opposition to religious things in her heart, in her loving nature; there is not, indeed, a predisposition towards a God of love, but a peculiar adaptation which assimilates more easily to religious things when her heart is touched by the Holy Spirit. The beauty, the harmony, the adaptation of the Gospel to the wants of our fallen nature, are more apparent to her, more quickly perceived. This may also, perhaps, be traced to another peculiarity which I must not forget to mention—her disposition to lean on others. Unlike man, she loves to be dependent—place her in danger and she naturally flies to her brother, her father, or her husband. I am aware that to all these things there are exceptions—there are unwomanly women as there are effeminate men, but the fewness of the exceptions only proves the general truth. England had her masculine Elizabeth, but she had only one.

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CHILDREN AND THEIR TRAINING

What wonderful provision has God made for the happiness, safety, and well-being of infants. He has implanted in the human breast a natural love of offspring, and has provided for each child parents, who should be of mature age, and who should have been so trained by their parents, that by combined wisdom, sagacity and experience, it may be duly watched over and cared for, and so trained as to answer life's great end, viz., "To glorify God and enjoy him forever."

Then how wisely is the body framed, and most wonderfully adapted to answer all the purposes of life, and especially during the period of infancy and childhood, when the body must be more or less exposed to accidents; while therefore it is destitute of experience, and cannot take care of itself, its bones are all soft and yielding, and more particularly of the skull which incloses and protects the brain, and those of the limbs are made flexible, so that if it falls they may bend and not break.

We see daily some new development of wonderful powers and faculties in every new-born infant. An infant has a natural and instinctive desire to exercise its limbs, its voice, and indeed all its bodily functions. How soon it begins to laugh and coo like a little dove, to show you that it is social in its disposition, asking for your sympathy in return.

It is curious and interesting to watch a young child when it first opens its eyes upon the light of day or the light of a candle. With what evident satisfaction does it slowly open and close its eyelids, so adapted—to say nothing of the wonderful mechanism of the eye itself—to let in sufficient light to gratify desire, or to shut out every ray that would prove injurious to the untried organs.

What incipient efforts are first made to feel and examine different objects, and how very soon even infants become possessed of some of the elementary principles of the most abstruse sciences, and that without a teacher. How many thousands of times will you see it endeavor to put up its little hands before its face, before it is able to control its movements so as to be able to examine them critically.

We propose to dwell, hereafter, somewhat minutely upon the all-important subject of infant training, and in a way to show the care and attention which both parents should bestow upon each child, so as to provide proper food, clothing, and the means of self-culture and amusement, and absolute control over it at the earliest possible period—the earlier the better, so as to secure "a sound mind in a sound body."

It is really pitiable to find so large a proportion of young parents who seem to think that but little instruction can be imparted, and in fact that but little is needed in the care and management of infants, whereas their education commences, in very many respects, and in a very important sense, as soon as they are born.

Man is a complex being, composed of mind, soul and body, mysteriously united as to their functions, in beautiful harmony with each other, yet so distinct as absolutely to require widely different methods of training, that each shall do its office without encroaching upon the others, and in a way to secure a symmetrical character.

No wonder the proper training of children should become painfully interesting to Christian parents, when they consider the pains-taking, the watchfulness, the restraints, the self-denial, and the encouragement which may be requisite for this. The faith and prayers which may be necessary to bring their children into the fold of the Good Shepherd, who in his last commission to his disciples did not forget to remind them, saying, "Feed my lambs," and whose promise and prediction, before his coming into the world, was, "Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings I have ordained praise." The Scriptures inform us that it was the purpose of God when he "set the solitary in families," to "seek a goodly seed."

How delightful and consoling then is the thought, in this world of sin and temptation, where there are three mighty obstacles to the final salvation of our children—the world, the flesh and the devil, that angels, ministering spirits, are appointed to "keep their watchful stations" around the families of the just. "Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of salvation?"

When parents cheerfully fall in with the great designs of God, and in dependence upon him in the use of the divinely appointed means, in his preparing a people to himself, what a glorious combination there is in all this to fulfill his gracious purposes. Not only God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, but the angelic hosts, and all good people by their prayers and labors, help forward this grand and glorious design.

When beyond this sublunary sphere, and the vail is removed which now hides from our view the realities of the unseen world, with what different emotions may we suppose parents will look upon their mission on earth. It will indeed seem wonderful that they should have been thus intrusted with the care and guardianship of children, which in a peculiar sense is their own, and in this respect widely differing from the angelic band, whose happiness, though they are permitted to minister to the saints, in such efforts and experience, must be inferior to that which parents will feel in training their own offspring—even emulating the all-wise Creator in his preparing a people for himself. It is certainly but natural to suppose that the happiest souls in Heaven will be those parents who are the spiritual parents of their own children.

The benefits which must result to parents in the careful training of infants—children who are, by means of parental faith and fidelity, converted in early life, can scarcely be apprehended, certainly not fully, in this world, even by the most judicious Christian parents.

Considering the instinctive love of offspring which God has implanted in the parental bosom, it is most painful to see the utter dislike which so many persons at the present day, who have entered the marriage relation, evince to the care and responsibility which the guardianship of children must ever involve.

There is something in all this manifestly wrong. It is unnatural. It is even monstrous—even below the brute creation. It interferes with the whole economy of nature, and frustrates the wise and benevolent designs of the Creator, when he set the solitary in families. No person who takes into view eternal realities and prospects, can, while so doing, indulge in such selfish, carnal and sordid views. Those who are without natural affection are classed by Paul with the enemies of all righteousness. We cannot therefore but look suspiciously upon all such as deny the marriage relation, cause of abuses (this is not the way to cure them), or, for any pretext, profess to plead the superior advantages of those who, for reasons best known to themselves, may choose a state of "single blessedness," however plausible or cogent their arguments may appear in favor of such a choice. We may not do evil that good may come, or in other words, "root up the tares, lest we also root up the wheat."

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THE ORPHAN SON AND PRAYING MOTHER

Some years since a small volume was sent to me by a friend, containing an account of the labors of a pious missionary along the line of the Erie canal. I read it with great interest, and I trust, with profit. God honors his word; he honors his faithful servants; and when the Great Day shall reveal the secrets of this world, it will be seen to the glory of divine grace, that many a humble missionary was made the instrument of eternal consolation to the poor neglected orphan—in answer to a pious mother's prayers.

I beg leave to ask the insertion in the Magazine of a touching scene, which occurred during a missionary tour of the above friend of the outcast and neglected. I shall give the narrative chiefly in his own words.

"I called at a horse station one morning very early. The station keeper had just got up, and stood in the door. I told him my business, and that I desired to see his boys a few moments. He said his boys were in bed, and as I was an old man, he did not wish to have me abused. 'You had better go on and let my boys alone,' said he; 'they will most assuredly abuse you if they get up, for I have got a very wicked set of boys.' I told him the very reasons that he assigned why I should not see his boys, were the reasons why I wished to see them, for if they were very wicked boys, there was the greater necessity for their reformation; and as to the abuse, that was the least of my troubles, for my Master had been abused before me.

"'Well, sir,' said he, 'don't blame me, if you are abused.' He then awoke his boys, and as they came out, I talked to them. Instead of abusing, they listened attentively to me, and some of them were much affected. They took my tracts, and I presume, read them.

"On leaving them, I remarked, that I supposed the most of them were orphans, that I was the orphan's friend, and though I might never see them again, they might be assured they had my prayers daily, that they might be converted. There was one little fellow who, as I had observed, looked very sober, and who at the last remark cried right out. As I wished to take the same boat again, I stepped out of the station house, but found it had left, and I was walking along, looking for another boat, when I heard some one crying behind me, and turning round, saw that it was the little fellow who wept so much in the station house.

"He said, 'Sir, you told me you was the orphan's friend; will you stop? I want to ask you a question.'

"I asked him if it was because he had now discovered that he was a sinner, that he cried, and wished me to talk with him.

"'No, sir,' said he, 'I knew that three years ago.'

"I perceived, from his answer, he was an interesting boy, and said to him, 'Sit down here, my son. How old are you?'

"'Thirteen,' he replied.

"'Where did you come from?'

"He said, three years ago his father moved from Massachusetts to Wayne county; he was a very poor man, and when they got to their journey's end they had nothing left. His father obtained the privilege of building a small log house to live in, on another man's land, but just as he had got the house finished, he was taken sick and died. I asked him if his father was a Christian, but afterwards regretted that I asked him the question, for it was a long time before he could answer it.

"At length he said, 'No, sir, if he had been a Christian, we could have given him up willingly. We had no hope for him; but my mother was a Christian. My mother, a sister seven years old, and myself, were all the family after my father died. I had no hope that I was a Christian when my father died; but my mother used to come up the ladder every night and kneel down, and put her hand upon my head, and pray that I might be converted. Often, when I was asleep, she would come, and her tears running into my face, would wake me. I knew that I was a sinner, but I hope God forgave my sins one night, while my dear mother was praying for me, and I still hope I was converted then.

"'About a year after my father died, my sister was taken sick and died in about two months. My mother was naturally feeble, and her sorrow for the loss of my father and sister wore upon her until she was confined to her bed. She lay there seven months, and last fall she died.'

"By this time the little fellow was so choked with grief that he could hardly speak. 'Then,' said he, 'I was taken sick, and lay all winter, not expecting to get well.' I shall never forget the appearance of that boy, and the expression of his countenance, when he said, 'I am a poor orphan, sir; I have nothing in this world except the clothes I have on.'

"All the clothes he had on would not have sold for twenty-five cents.

"What an example is here to induce mothers to be faithful to their children. I wish to ask mothers if they have ever gone at the midnight hour and awoke their children by a mother's tears while pleading with God for the salvation of their souls?"

Many mothers—thousands of mothers—have done no such thing. They have neglected their own souls, and the souls of their dear children—and both have gone to the bar of God, unprepared for the solemn interview.

But some mothers have been more faithful, and what a rich and divine reward have they received! Many a son, now in glory, or on his way thither, owes his religious impressions to the prayers of a tender, faithful mother.

Nor should mothers be soon or easily discouraged! True, they may not live to see their prayers answered—but a covenant-keeping God will remember them, and in his own good time and chosen way give them an answer.

Though seed lie buried long in dust,It shan't deceive our hope;The precious grain can ne'er be lost,For grace insures the crop.

The writer, perhaps, cannot better conclude this article than by another extract from the work alluded to, much to the same purpose as the one already cited.

"In conversing with the captain of a certain boat, I found him a very amiable and companionable man, although he acknowledged, that he had no reason to hope that he was a Christian. Said he, 'I ought to have been a Christian, long ago,' without giving his reasons for such an assertion. When the hour for prayer arrived, (I staid on his boat all night,) I asked him for a Bible. He seemed to be affected, and I did not know but he was destitute of a Bible. I told him I had one in my trunk, on the deck, and that if he had none, I would go up and get it. 'I have one,' said he, and unlocking his trunk, he took out a very nice Bible, and as he reached it out to me, the tears dropped on its cover. 'There, sir,' said he, 'is the last gift of a dying mother. My dear mother gave me that Bible about two hours before she died; and her dying admonition I shall never forget. O, sir, I had one of the best of mothers. She would never go to bed without coming to my bed-side, and if I was asleep, she would awaken me, and pray for me before she retired. Twelve years have elapsed since she died, and five years of that time I have been on the ocean, five years on this canal; and the other two years traveling. I do not know that I have laid my head on my pillow and gone to sleep, during that time, without thinking of the prayers of my mother: yet I am not a Christian; but the prayers of my mother are ended. I have put off the subject too long, but from this time I will attend to it. I will begin now and do all that I can to be a Christian.'

"I hope those dear mothers, who may have an opportunity of reading these sketches, will inquire of their own hearts, 'Will my own dear children, those little pledges of God's love, remember my prayers twelve years after my head is laid in the narrow house appointed for all the living?' Oh, could we place that estimate on the soul which we should do, in the light of eternity, how much anxiety would be manifested on the part of parents for their children, and for the whole families of the earth. The midnight slumber would more often be disturbed by cries to God, and tears for this fallen, apostate, rebellious world."

Mothers! what do you think of such facts? And what are they designed to teach you? Every one of them, as you meet them in the pilgrimage of life, is a voice of encouragement from above. Has God been kind towards other mothers? he can be kind towards you. Has he blessed their efforts? he can bless yours. Has he heard their prayers? he can hear and answer yours.

Say not that you have prayed, labored, watched, and all in vain! How long have you thus toiled? thus wrestled? Years? Well, and may be you will have to toil and strive years to come. What then! Your Heavenly Father knows precisely when it is best to answer you, and how! Suppose you pray and labor ten, twenty, thirty years—and then you succeed—won't the salvation of your children be a sufficient reward? How do worldly parents do? Take an example from them. They spend life in laying up this world's goods for their children—treasures which perish in the using. Surely, then, you may, with great propriety, devote a few years to secure an imperishable crown of glory for your sons and daughters. For what is the present world—its gold of California or its gems of Golconda—what are its honors—its stars, coronets, crowns—to an inheritance in the kingdom of God!

The time has not yet come when parents appreciate this subject as they will do. Oh, no! and until they realize their duty, their privileges, the purchase which they have on the throne of God by means of faith, and their covenant interest in the blood of Jesus, there is reason to fear that many children will perish, but who need not perish—who would not perish were their parents as faithful and energetic as parents will be in some more distant age of the world.

But why postpone what may be realized now? Why relinquish blessings of vast and incomparable magnitude to others which you may enjoy, and which it is no benevolence to forego for others, because when they come upon the stage, there will be blessings for them in abundance and to spare? Let the sentiment fall upon your hearts, and make its appropriate impression there—"While God invites, how blest the day!"

If the candle of your earthly comfort be blown out, remember it is but a little while to the break of day, when there will be no more need of candles.

Christian, wouldst thou have an easy death? then get a mortified heart; the surgeon's knife is scarcely felt when it cuts off a mortified member.

FROST

BY MRS. JULIA NORTONThe beams of morn were glittering in the east,The hoary frost had gathered like a mistOn every blade of grass, on plant and flower,And sparkling with a clear, reflected light—Shot forth its radiant beams that, dazzling bright,Proclaimed the ruling charm in beauty's power.The god of day came forth with conquering glow,When shrinking from his gaze the glittering showIn vapor fled, with steady, noiseless flight—But left its blasting mark where'er it pressedThe tender plant that on earth's peaceful breast,Still slept, unmindful of the fatal blight.Thus sin oft gilds the onward path of youth,Till straying far from virtue and from truth,Heaven's bright, pure rays, in fearful distance gleam;While on the mind the blasting, clinging shade,With deathless power, refuses still to fade—Till life's dark close unfolds the fearful dream.

The Fireside, is a seminary of infinite importance. It is important because it is universal, and because the education it bestows, being woven in with the woof of childhood, gives form and color to the whole texture of life. There are few who can receive the honors of a college, but all are graduates of the hearth. The learning of the university may fade from the recollection; its classic lore may moulder in the halls of memory. But the simple lessons of home, enameled upon the heart of childhood, defy the rust of years, and outlive the more mature but less vivid pictures of after days.

1

2 Cor. 5:21.

2

The construction put upon this passage is taken from Bush's Commentary on Exodus, which see.

3

1 John iv:16.

4

We are glad to see that Mr. Abbott has recently revised and enlarged this useful book. We recommend it to the careful perusal of all young people, as well as parents.