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instantly despatched by the servant, and the duke passes ?' But the more my spirit was pained withtook the stranger into his closet. What he told him in me, the more I hurried to this place. And when there is what my readers already know—that Want I was come I saw mighty palaces for the accommodaand Misery stand even within the sunshine of Plenty tion of a few, and I saw also men herding together and Prosperity; that Sickness, Pain and Death are in filth and wretchedness; and those who had not in the daily paths of the rich and powerful; that all where to lay their heads. I have seen warehouses these things are looked upon as necessary evils, and filled with cloths for raiment, and stout men passed not allowed for a moment to interrupt the usual by them with scarce a rag to cover them; yet touchcourse of business and amusement. But he could ed they nothing. I have seen bakeries full of bread, not make it appear to the man out of the Moon as it and storehouse filled with other food; and savage did to himself. The more common it is, the more looking men proved that they were not yet fiends, dreadful it seemed to this wanderer from another for they did not strike dead those who withheld sphere. The more difficult it appeared to find the from them these provisions. Even here I have seen remedy, the more earr
arnestly he thought it should be dogs and horses receive the attention denied to man. sought. It seemed to him that the great fault was You ask me what I want : I want to know if you in the government, and at its head was a lady as have known aught of this; and, if so, why stand you young, as kind, as compassionate as the duke's eldest here idle ?" daughter. He left the castle, and hastened to the " Who are you?” rejoined the astonished courcapitol! He lingered not by the way, but sighs ob- tier. truded themselves upon his notice which gave him " The man out of the Moon." much pain. He sought the palace; he asked audience 6. Aha, aha,-a lunatic! I thought as much. Now of the queen. He brought no references, no intro- let me see if we have not a nice place for you which ductions, and could not be admitted to the young you have not yet espied ;” and calling the servants, sovereign; but his earnestness gained him an inter- he ordered them to take the man to the hospital. view with one of her counsellors. He had so much Eut he slipped from their grasp and was soon out tu say, and knew so little how to say it, his ideas of the way. He strayed to the sea side, for there were all in such confusion, that it was some time be was there less of the misery he could not relieve. fore the minister could gather aught from him. He found a man sitting upon a solitary rock, and
" To the point,” said he at length.—-. Tell me, gazing far out upon the waters. There was that in stranger, what you want.”
his eye which told the Lunarian that there he might "I want rigut !” said the man. "I came a stran- meet with sympathy. So they sat together, while ger to your land, and at first, all appeared to me the sea-winds moaned around them, and talked of very beautiful. But I soon found hunger, destitu- wrong and oppression. tion, and death. I inquired the cause, and asked for
" But why do the people bear all this?” asked the the remedy. I was told there was none; but I found Man. · Why do they not rise in their strength, that if relief could be obtained this was the place to and demand clothing, food and shelter ? Why do look for it. I left for this city. I hurried on my they not stretch out their hands and take it, when way; but unless I shut my eyes, I could not but see almost within their grasp ? Why at least do they wrong. I I have seen huge heaps of grain converted not die as men, rather than live like beasts." into liquid poison, and starving men drunk of it that They are enchanted," was the reply of the phithey might drown all sense of want and misery. I losopher. have seen broad fields lie waste as pleasure ground, Then the Man thought how impossible it would while squalid crowds were faint for food. I saw a be for him to disenchant them, and he sighed; and mighty ship filled with brave men; and their gar- when the philosopher had gone he unrobed himself, ments glittered with beauty, and gushing strains of and spread his wings, and flew across the channel music stirred their noble hearts. I thought it a glo- till he came to another land. rious sight, but I learnt that they were sent to kill We will not follow him, as he strayed through or be killed of their fellow men. I saw a high and various cities, towns, and villages, along the Medinarrow structure spring upward to the sky; and they terranean. But he heard of it everywhere-he had brought out a man and put him to death between the heard of it before he crossed the channel-of a happy heavens and the earth. Crowds of men gazed up- land, far across many wide waters—a new world, ward at the sight, and think ye not that God looked where tyranny, oppression, and corruption, had not down? I went into an old moss grown church, and found time to generate their train of evils. He there I saw the man who prayed at the gallows; and yearned for this better land; and one night, when all the people said with him · Be ye also merciful, the sky was dark with sombre clouds, and no one even as your Father in Heaven is merciful.'For could witness his flight, he left the old for the newer if ye forgive not men their trespasses, how will continent. your Father which is in Heaven, forgive your tres He alighted at the plantation of a wealthy gentle
With manly courtesy he was received, and, were also Wealth and Poverty-here were Misery, entertained with chivalrous generosity which asked Selfishness, and Pride. He saw a wealthy lady roll no questions of the stranger, and knew nothing but along in her carriage, while a feeble woman could that he needed rest. He was truly weary, and spent hardly totter across the streets. “ The carriage some quiet days in the family of his host, for whom would have held more than two,” said he to himself. he formed quite an attachment. But one day as he He followed the faltering footsteps until he came to was walking in the grounds, he heard the voice of a cellar. The woman approached a bed, upon piercing lamentation. He looked around, and saw a which two children were gasping for breath, negro woman, with her young child pressed to her “ Can nothing be done for them ?” asked the bosom, and sobbing as though her heart would Man. break. He inquired the cause of her sorrow, and "I have just called a physician,” replied the heard that her husband had just been taken away to mother. In a few moments he came in. He looked be sold to another master. Her children had been tenderly at his little patients. " They are dying of taken from her long before, all but the babe upon want,” said he. They want every thing they her breast.
should now have; but first of all, is the want of The Man could not understand this at first, but fresh air.” The Man started from the house and after long questioning he learned some of the evils of ran to a street, in which was the residence of an slavery. He returned to his host. He was sitting eminent philanthropist. His questionings had alreawith his wife at his side, and his child upon his dy led him to a knowledge of the good. He came knee. He caressed them both with affection. The to the house. The master was not at home-he had Man looked at him sternly,
gone to his country-seat, and his mansion was vacant, *. How dare you love your child ?" said he. with the exception of one servant who was left to “. How dare you adore your wife ?” when you have open the windows each day, and see the cool air separated mother and child, husband and wife, and breathed through the deserted rooms. And, as he consigned them all to misery.
looked at the lofty, well-ventilated and vacant apart“ Who are you ?” replied the host, “ that you ments, he thought of the children who were dying speak thus in my own house, where as yet unques- in a neighboring cellar for want of air. tioned you have been honored and cherished as a The man was wearied, disappointed and vexed. stranger and a guest.”
• If this is the happiest spot on Earth," said he, "I am the man out of the Moon."
" then let me go back to the Moon." Then the host laughed heartily. « Ah, moon It was a lovely starlight night. The moon, like struck, I see,” said he, carelessly ; and touching his a silver crescent, hung afar in the blue ether, and head he nodded to his wife. After this they would there was one bright solitary cloud in the clear sky. neither of them heed what he said, but treated him The Man spread his wings, and, bidding farewell to good humoredly, as a maniac.
Earth, he turned his face upward to a better home. In the neighborhood, however, he met not with As he passed the bright cloud he thought he saw, this consideration, for he would not hold his peace faintly delineated as though in bright shadow, the while he believed a great wrong was calling for re. outlines of a human form. He approached nearer, dress. They called him an Abolitionist, and pro- and the cloud seemed like a light couch, upon which posed assisting him in his departure from a place an etherealized being reclined.--Lofty intellect and which did not seem to suit him very well. They childlike mildness were blended in his pale spiritual would provide feathers, if not wings, and attach countenance, but there was a glance of sorrow in his them to him with tar, as the best artificial method. deep eyes which told that, if an angel, he had not They would not furnish him with a horse, but they forgotten the trials of earth. found a rail, and this with the aid of their own loco The Man said to him, “I have just left Earth for motive powers, would assist him greatly.
Moon, but I would gladly leave it for any other The Man felt as though he would rather continue world. You seemed to have returned to it from free of all such obligations, and on the very night Heaven.” when all things were preparing for his exit, he spread " It was my home," replied the spirit. * There his wings upon the darkness and flew away. I first received existence; there I first drew the
He had heard the negroes speak of a land to the breath of life. It was my first home; and, though north, where there were 110 slaves, where oppres. I know it is full of sin and sorrow, yet at times I sion, cruelty, and selfishness did not exist; and he leave Heaven that I may view it once again.” thought that must be the better land of which he " And did you know, while there, that it was had so often heard. He came to its far famed city : filled with Guilt, Ignorance, or Pain? or did you that where morals, intelligence, and prosperity are neglect the great interests of Humanity for selfish more nearly connected than in
other. He was pleasure ?" pleased at first, but soon became dissatisfied, because " I did not live for myself alone. I endeavored it fell far short of his ideas of social perfection. Here to live for my kind, and to find my happiness in try
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for Yes or fit for No!
Call me false, or call me free
Vow, whatever light may shine, No man on thy face shall see
Any grief for change on mine.
Yet the sin is on us both
Time to dance is not to wooWooer light makes fickle troth
Scorn of me recoils on you !
Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly, as the thing is high; Bravely, as for life or death
With a loyal gravity.
ing to promote the well being of others. I see now that I might have done more, but I saw it not then. God had given me a feeble frame, and I might not go forth actively among my brethren. But I sent my voice among them. I spoke aloud in behalf of the wronged and down-trodden. I spoke not of one evil, but of that which is the source of all evil. I spoke to the young, knowing that they would soon be the middle-aged, to act, and then the aged to die. I sent my voice among the ignorant, and invited them to come to the tree of knowledge. bliss is now in the assurance I have received, that my words will not be forgotten."
“ But, if you were doing good,” said the Man, sternly, "Why did you go thence ?!!
" I was called,” replied the spirit, gently. « And is there any who may take your place ?"
“ I hope and believe there are many noble spirits, who are as earnest, as able, as faithful and more active, who are laboring for their brother man.
But there is another agent. Would you witness it?” and drawing aside a drapery of cloud, he disclosed a shining volume. The night breeze gently wafted its leaves, and, in letters of brightness, were written upon them such words as these :
" God hath made of one blood all the nations of the earth.” “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” “ The laborer is worthy of his hire.” “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do you even so to them.” “With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."
The Man glanced at them, and then said, " Is this book there?"
" It is there," replied the spirit, « and there it will remain until its words are embroidered upon the hems of their garments, engraved upon the bells of their horses, and bound as frontlets between their eyes. Yea, even until they are impressed upon the hearts of all men.”
The spirit veiled the book again in aerial drapery, and disappeared himself in the bright cloud.
The Man turned away, with a spirit less sad; and ere morning dawned, he looked down again from his “old accustomed place,” 'with his usual placid smile; and none would now know from his benign expression, that we, poor erring mortals, had ever grieved and angered the Man in the Moon.- Lowell Offering
Lead her from the festive boards,
Point her to the starry skies, Guard her, by your truthful words,
Pure from courtship's flatteries. By your truth she shall be true
Ever true, as wives of yoreAnd her Yes, once said to you,
Shall be Yes for evermore."
HOW TO KEEP LENT.
BY ROBERT HERRICK.
(A paraphrase of Isaiah lviii. 3—7.) Is this a Fast, to keep
The larder leane
And clean From fat of neates and sheep ? Is to quit the dish
Of flesh, yet still
Is it to fast an houre,
Or ragg'd to go,
Or show A downcast look and soure ? No:-'Tis a fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat
THE LADY'S YES.
BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BARRETT.
" Yes !" I answered you last night;
« No!" this morning, Sir, I say ! Colors, seen by candle-light,
Will not look the same by day. When the tabors played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below
It is to fast from strife,
From old debate
To starve thy sin,
Not bin; And that's to keep thy Lent !
BY THOMAS CHALMERS.
CHRISTIAN, AND MERE POETIC BENEVO-, have moved at all; and their usefulness to the poor LENCE, CONTRASTED.
would have been reduced to a very humble fraction of what they have actually done for them. What
is this but to say, that it is the business of a reli(Extracted from a discourse before the Edingburgh Society gious instructor to give you, not the elegant, but
for the relief of the Destitute Sick.) The man who considers the poor, instead of slum
the true representation of benevolence—to represent bering over the emotions of a useless sensibility sensibilities of the mind, but according to the sober
it not so much as a luxurious indulgence to the finer among those imaginary beings whom poetry and romance have laid before him in all the elegance of declaration of Scripture, as a work and as a laborfictitious history, will bestow the labour and the at
as a business in which you must encounter vexation tention of actual business among the poor of the real opposition, and fatigue; where you are not always and the living world. Benevolence is the burden of to meet with that elegance which allures the fancy, every romantic tale, and of every poet's song. It is or with that humble and retired adversity, which dressed out in all the fairy enchantments of imagery
interests the more tender propensities of the heart; and eloquence. All is beauty to the eye and music but as a business where reluctance must often be to the ear. Nothing seen but pictures of felicity,
overcome by a sense of duty, and where, though and nothing heard but the soft whispers of gratitude oppressed at every step, by envy, disgust, and disand affection. The reader is carried along by this appointment, you are bound to persevere, in obedisoft and delightful representation of virtue. He ac
ence to the law of God, and the sober instigation of companies his hero through all the fancied varieties
principle. of his history. He goes along with him to the cot
The benevolence of the gospel lies in actions. tage of poverty and disease, surrounded, as we may The benevolence of our fiction writers, in a kind of suppose, with all the charms of rural obscurity, and high-wrought delicacy of feeling and sentiment. where the murmurings of an adjoining rivulet accord The one dissipates all its fervor in sighs and tears, with the finer and more benevolent sensibilities of and idle aspirations—the other reserves its strength the mind. He enters this enchanting retirement, for efforts and execution. The one regards it as a and meets with a picture of distress, adorned in all luxurious enjoyment of the heart—the other, as a the elegance of fiction. Perhaps a father laid on a work and business of the hand. The one sits in inbed of languishing, and supported by the labors of dolence, and broods in visionary rapture, over its an affectionate family, where kindness breathes in schemes of ideal philanthropy, the other steps every word, and anxiety sits upon every countenance abroad, and enlightens by its presence, the dark and
- where the industry of his children struggles in pestilential hovels of disease. The one wastes away vain to supply the cordials which his poverty denies in empty ejaculation--the other gives time and trouhim—where nature sinks every hour, and all feel able to the work of beneficence-gives education to gloomy foreboding, which they strive to conceal, the orphan-provides clothes to the naked, and lays and tremble to express. The hero of the romance food on the table of the hungry. The one is indoenters, and the glance of his benevolent eye enlight. lent and capricious, and often does mischief by the ens the darkest recesses of misery. He turns to the occasional overflowings of a whimsical and ill-dibed of languishing, tells the sick man that there is rected charity-the other is vigilant and discerning, still hope, and smiles comfort on his despairing chil- and takes care lest his distributions be injudicious, dren. Day aster day he repeats his kindness and his and the effort of benevolence be misapplied. The charity. They hail his approach as the footsteps one is soothed with the luxury of feeling, and reof an angel of mercy. The father lives to bless clines with easy and indolent satisfaction—the other his deliverer. The family rewards his benevolence shakes off the deceitful languor of contemplation by the homage of an affcctionate gratitude ; and, and solitude, and delights in a scene of activity. in the piety of their evening prayer, offer up thanks Remember, that virtue, in general, is not to feel, to the God of Heaven, for opening the hearts of the but to do—not merely to conceive a purpose, but to rich to kindly and beneficient attentions. The rea-carry that purpose into execution-not merely to der weeps with delight. The visions of paradise be overpowered by the impression of a sentiment, play before his fancy. His tears flow, and his heart but to practise what it loves, and to imitate what it dissolves in all the luxury of tenderness.
admires. Now, we do not deny that the members of the To be benevolent in speculation, is often to be Destitute Sick Society may at times have met with selfish in action and in reality. The vanity and the some such delightful scene to soothe and encourage indolence of man delude him into a thousand incon. them. But put the question to any of their visitors, sistencies. He professes to love the name and the and he will not fail to tell you, that if they had ne semblance of virtue, but the labor of exertion and ver moved but when they had something like this to of self-denial terrifies him from attempting it. The excite and gratify their hearts, they would seldom emotions of kindness are delightful to his bosom
but then they are little better than a selfish indul-| life and action which he demands of his followers. gence-they terminate in his own enjoyment—they It professes to adore the tremendous Majesty of are a mere refinement of luxury. His eye melts heaven, and to weep in shame and in sorrow over the over the picture of fictitious distress, while not a sinfulness of degraded humanity, while every day it tear is left for the actual starvation and misery with insults heaven by the enormity of its misdeeds, and which he is surrounded. It is easy to indulge the evinces the insincerity of its wilful perseverane in imaginations of a visionary heart in going over a the practice of iniquity. This Antinomianism is gescene of fancied affliction, because here there is no nerally condemned; and none reprobate it more sloth to overcome-no avaricious propensity to con- than the votaries of fine sentiment—your men of taste trol-no offensive or disgusting circumstance to al. and elegant literature--your epicures of feeling, who lay the unmingled impression of sympathy which a riot in all the luxury of theatrical emotion, and who, soft and elegant picture is calculated to awaken. It in their admiration of what is tender, and beautiful, is not so easy to be benevolent in action and in re and cultivated, have always turned with disgust from ality, because here there is fatigue to undergo—there the doctrines of a sour and illiberal theology. We is time and money to give—there is the mortifying may say to such, as Nathan to David, “ Thou art the spectacle of vice, and folly, and ingratitude, to en- man.” Theirs is to all intents and purposes Antino. counter. We like to give you the fair picture of mianism—and an Antinomianism of a far more danlove to man, because to throw over it false and fic- gerous and deceitful kind, than the Antinomianism titious embellishments, is injurious to its cause. of a spurious and pretended orthodoxy. In the AnThese elevate the fancy by romantic visions which tinomianism of religion, there is nothing to fascinate can never be realized. They embitter the heart by or deceive you. It wears an air of repulsive bigotry, the most severe and mortifying disappointments, and more fitted to awaken disgust, than to gain the adoften force us to retire in disgust from what heaven miration of proselytes. There is a glaring deformity has intended to be the theatre of our discipline and in its aspect, which alarms you at the very outset, preparation. Take the representation of the Bible. and is an outrage to that natural morality which, dark Benevolence is a work and a labor. It often calls and corrupted as it is, is still strong enough to lift its for the severest efforts of vigilance and industry, loud remonstrance against it. But in the Antino. a habit of action not to be acquired in the school mianism of high-wrought sentiment, there is a deof fine sentiment, but in the walks of business, in ception far more insinuating. It steals upon you the dark and dismal receptacles of misery—in the under the semblance of virtue. It is supported by hospitals of disease—in the putrid lanes of great the delusive colouring of imagination and poetry. cities, where poverty dwells in lank and ragged It has all the graces and embellishments of literature wretchedness, agonizing with pain, faint with hun- to recommend it. Vanity is soothed, and conscience ger, and shivering in a frail and unsheltered tene- lulls itself to repose in this dream of feeling and of ment.
indolence. You are not to conceive yourself a real lover of Let us dismiss these lying vanities, and regulate your species, and entitled to the praise or the re- our lives by the truth and soberness of the New ward of benevolence because you weep over a fic- Testament. Benevolence is not in word and in titious representation of human misery. A man may tongue, but in deed and in truth. It is a business weep in the indolence of a studious and contempla- with men as they are, and with human life as drawn tive retirement; he may breathe all the tender aspi- by the rough hand of experience. It is a duty which rations of humanity; but what avails all this warm you must perform at the call of principle, though and effusive benevolence, if it is never exerted—if it there be no voice of eloquence to give splendonr to never rise to execution—if it never carry him to the your exertions, and no music or poetry to lead your accomplishment of a single benevoient purpose—it willing footsteps throngh the bowers of enchantit shrinks at activity, and sicken at the pain of fa- ment. It is not the impulse of high and ecstatic tigue? It is easy, indeed, to come forward with the emotion. It is an exertion of principle. You must cant and hypocrisy of fine sentiment—to have a go to the poor man's cottage, though no verdure heart trained to the emotions of benevolence, while flourish around it, and no rivulet be nigh to delight the hand refuses the labor of discharging its offices you by the gentleness of its murmurs. If you look —to weep for amusement, and to have nothing to for the romantic simplicity of fiction, you will be spare for human suffering but the tribute of an in- disappointed; but it is your duty to persevere, in dolent and unmeaning sympathy. Many of you must spite of every discouragement. Benevolence is not be acquainted with that corruption of Christian doc- merely a feeling, but a principle--not a dream of trine which has been termed Antinomianism. It rapture for the fancy to indulge in, but a business professes the highest reverence for the Supreme Be for the hand to execute. ing, while it refuses obedience to the lessons of his It must now be obvious to all of you, that it is not authority. It professes the highest gratitude for the enough that you give money, and add your name to sufferings of Christ, while it refuses that course of the contributors of charity-you must give it with