صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

sleeves. Round their waist they roll a long piece of silk, or cloth, which reaches to the feet, and sometimes trails on the ground.

When women of distinction go abroad, they put on a scarf, or shawl, made of silk, which they throw around them with much grace and elegance. Women in full dress stain the palms of their hands and their nails of a red color, and rub their faces with powder of sandal-wood, or of a bark called sunneka. Both men and women tinge the edges of their eyelids and their teeth with black, which in the latter The case gives them a disagreeable appearance. lower class of females often wear only a single garment, in the form of a sheet, which, wrapped round the body and tucked in under the arms, descends to the ankle.

Men of the working classes also wear a very limited quantity of clothing; a mantle or vest is, however, highly prized in the cold season.

Their neighbors, the inhabitants of Siam, wear very little clothing, which may, perhaps, be accounted for by the excessive heat of the climate. People of rank tie a piece of calico round the waist, and allow it to hang down to the knees. The lower classes wear a garment that resembles breeches. All have a muslin shirt without a collar, and open in front, with large loose sleeves, and no wristbands. When the weather is cold they throw a piece of painted linen over their shoulders, like a mantle, and twist it round their arms.

The women's dress is much the same. They wrap a cloth round the waist, and let the ends hang to the ground; they also cover the neck and shoulders, but never wear any ornament on the head. They cover their fingers with rings, and wear numerous bracelets and immense ear-rings. All classes have very pointed shoes, but no stockings.

The king is distinguished by a vest of rich brocaded satin, with tight sleeves to the wrist; and it

is unlawful to wear this dress unless it is presented by the sovereign as a mark of favor to a subject.

The court wear red dresses, and the king a cap shaped like a sugar-loaf, surrounded by a circle of precious stones, and fastened under the chin. Officers of rank have coronets of gold or silver. In travelling, hats are used, but in general no covering is worn on the head: the hair is very thick, and both sexes cut it quite short to the ears; the women make it stand up straight from the head. Beards are never worn in Siam.

REAPING.-TO A. C.

BY CAROLINE CHESEBRO'.

His harvest is not yet, who, long ago,

Went scattering broadcast the small seeds of truth;
And thou, bethink thee! faintest in thy youth,
Complaining that to suffer is to know!
What if thy cup with sorrows overflow,

As His did? What if, in extremest need,
The strong world passes o'er thee for a weed?
Or, if thy feet are set on heights of snow?
For every prayer thou shalt have blessing sure;
For every deed wrought out in humble faith
Sweet answer, in a good that shall endure-
Thou canst not be an idle, fruitless waif:
Build of the snow, if need be, pyramid;

Or-in the mines work there-thy deeds will not be hid!

[graphic]

And, if thy hands be soiled, it is not clay

That will pollute; stains that the eye can see
Are not the proofs which will dishonor thee;

Such broken cisterns yield, to wash away:
But, murmurings of sloth in face of day,

And plaints of pride, and wails of selfishness,
And words (the falsest tokens of distress),
Leave record difficult to wash away-
Give pestilence to the air which circles round
The feeble heart-give sorrow to the weak-
And stumbling-blocks to youth; wouldst thou be found
Reaping such fruitage? Well! thou needst not seek
Harvest of coming Harvest out from Thee;

What fruit thy heart bears now, thy Future's All will be!

SONNET.-THE COUNTRY.

BY WM. ALEXANDER.

DELIGHTFUL is the peasant's peaceful lot,
Permitted o'er the fields to roam at dawn,
When early dew-drops sparkle on the lawn
Around his lowly, ever-happy cot:

For him, Life's vale is ever decked with flowers;
A tuneful choir charms him in every shade;
Birds sporting merrily in every glade
Make pass in love and harmony his hours.
Here let me dwell, from folly far away,

Till old age steal the roses from my cheek:
Here let me calmly live to show "I seek
That upper country" where ne'er comes decay;
Where golden clouds forever deck the sky,
And Heaven's fair flowers bloom everlastingly.

PROVIDENTIAL: OR, THE FIRST WEDDING.

BY MRS. SARAH J. HALE.

"Thou didst not leave them, mighty God! Thou wert with those that bore the truth of old Into the desert from the oppressor's rod, And made the caverns of the rock their fold, And met when stars met, by their beams to hold The free heart's communing with Thee-and Thou Wert in the midst, felt, owned."

"How did you say the young man was named?" inquired Mr. Zechariah Long, gently touching the elbow of Governor Winthrop, and directing him by a glance of the eye to the object of his curiosity.

"His appellation is master Oliver Temple," replied the governor.

"A kinsman of Sir John Temple of Devonshire ?" pursued Zechariah Long, raising his forefinger to

his nose.

"I do not know his family," returned the gover

nor.

"The young man was introduced to me by the worthy Mr. Johnson, who said the youth had letters of recommendation from a pious friend of his, as one who wished to leave all for righteousness' sake. And truly, since he hath been on board, his conduct hath been very seemly."

"I saw he showed the courage of a true soldier of the cross when we were preparing our ship to give battle to the Dunkirkers," observed Zechariah. "I never noticed him before or since except he had a book before his face, or was otherwise leaning on the railing of the vessel as at this moment, and looking as if he was watching the clouds or counting the stars. But when the word was given that the Dunkirkers were at hand, how he bestirred himself! I think he must have been a soldier, governor. I marvel Mr. Johnson does not communicate to you who the young man is."

"It may be such course would not be prudent, Mr. Long," said Governor Winthrop, calmly. "The young man may have reasons for not wishing to have his family known. This is the time when a man's foes are often those of his own household; when great sacrifices must be made for conscience' sake. You know who hath said-'he that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

was mild, it had usually an expression of deep gravity that many mistook for sadness; but now, in spite of his apparent efforts, a smile curled his lip, and the spirit of mirth glistened in his eye, betraying that the infantile comparison of Mr. Zechariah Long was not, even to his accustomed ear, wholly divested of the ludicrous. Zechariah boasted that he was the tallest man in the company's service, being six feet four inches in height-and seldom was the point disputed, as his upright and rigid air gave him the appearance of being even taller than he asserted. He was long-limbed, and large-jointed, with a spare, sinewy frame, that looked as if it would have required a ton of flesh before the sharp angles would havo been rounded into any resemblance to the dimpled beauty of an infant's form. Then his face, it was long, lank, lean, and covered with a skin of the color and apparent toughness of parchment; his features were large, the nose in particular standing out with a curve as bold as Cæsar's-and his eyebrows thick, black, and overhanging, beneath which his small gray eyes gleamed out with a brightness that gave animation, indeed somewhat of interest, to a face otherwise repelling.

The smile of Governor Winthrop seemed checked involuntarily as he met the glance of Zechariah Long's eye, and, with a tone of more deference than even Christian humility would seem to prescribe to one so much inferior in station, he inquired what might be his opinion of the person in question.

"If you ask my opinion, governor, I am bound to answer faithfully," responded Zechariah, drawing himself up to his greatest altitude, and speaking very slowly-"I have observed the youth carefully ever since, as I told you, I noted his bold bearing when we prepared for the battle that by the goodness of God was not to prove unto our hurt, but the rather to our joy, inasmuch as we found friends where we expected enemies; but, had it fell out otherwise, I am persuaded the young man would have been of great assistance, and therefore I would that he was truly as we are."

"Wherefore would you cast suspicions on the stranger?" inquired the governor, regarding Zechariah rather sternly.

"I am not prone to evil-speaking, governor," replied the other in a tone so calm and assured that Mr. Winthrop actually felt rebuked. "I am not one who watches for matters of accusation; but I confess I have watched that young man, and this is my judgment, that his motives for joining us were not all dictated by duty or conscience."

"What then did induce him?-or perhaps your vision does not extend so far," observed the governor, rather dryly.

Zechariah's small quick eye shone with the lustre of a certain triumph as he replied: "His passions, governor, his earthly passions have prompted him to go forth in search of a resting-place; but, verily, unless he does become more heavenly-minded, I fear he will be of little comfort to us, or enjoy little comfort himself."

Zechariah then walked slowly away towards the steerage, and soon the deep peculiar twang of his voice was heard joining in a hymn which some of the passengers were singing. Governor Winthrop was left alone standing on the larboard side of the deck, nearly opposite the young man who had been the object of the colloquy; and who was, by the conclusion thereof, represented as obnoxious to those suspicions which are not the less forcible for being indefinite. The longer he pondered on the circumstances that had hitherto come under his observation respecting the said Oliver Temple, the more mysterious they appeared. And yet the sagacious governor could not believe that the young man would be found a deceiver. There is something in the countenance of an ingenuous youth that so ill accords with the subtlety of the crafty manager intent on stratagems or crimes, that the heart of a good man will be slow to tax such an one with enormous guilt. Folly may be predicated of the young, but vice seems too gross to be harbored in the soul so simple as to receive pleasure from the thought of a flower, or the sight of a bird. And Governor Winthrop had seen young Temple smile, and it was the only time he had seen him smile, while assisting the Lady Arabella in arranging some flower-pots containing specimens she was carefully transporting to the New World, but which had been nearly destroyed in the preparations made to give battle to the Dunkirkers. And he had heard him, too, remonstrating with a passenger who wished to shoot some of the birds that were continually flitting around the vessel.

"He showed a merciful spirit, and such shall obtain mercy," thought the governor. "And yet I wish I knew his history. The Lady Arabella can perchance inform me. She once observed that she thought I would like him, and that she thought he looked like me. He is not a wicked youth. Zechariah Long is a zealous saint, but he is sometimes prone to be suspicious-a fault for which he must be reprimanded. I will seek the Lady Arabella, and endeavor to learn who Oliver Temple may be."

Thus resolving, he descended to the cabin appropriated to the ladies, purposely passing in his way thither near the place where Oliver was leaning on the railing of the deck, his gaze steadily fixed on the setting sun. There was a calmness on his countenance that seemed more like resignation than happiness; yet no one would have called him mise

rable; nor was he, though he had endured, in his short career, more real distresses than a novel-writer would invent, unless his imagination were very prolific of horrors, to prove the fortitude of his hero.

The history of Oliver Temple was briefly this. He was the only son of a gentleman of ancient family, but small fortune. His father was a younger brother, and the title and a large estate were expected to descend to Oliver, as his uncle, a decrepit old bachelor, seemed as unlikely to seek for a partner as the man in the moon. So his nephew was bred with the expectation of becoming in due time Sir Oliver Temple. He was a gay youth, but nevertheless possessing a good deal of that decision of character which is imparted by a consciousness of integrity of purpose. He was also an excellent scholar, fond of poetry, and, as his father often boasted, an adept in history, particularly in what related to ecclesiastical polity. This mood of mind was no doubt fostered, if not engendered by the character of the times, as religious opinions were then, and had been for many years, the grand lever by which the whole Christian world was moved and agitated with a power that shook the foundations of civil society, and threatened to overturn or alter many of the most important forms of the existing govern. ments. Oliver's relations were all loyal and orthodox defenders of the kingly prerogative and priestly habiliment. Yet Oliver sometimes, in his own mind, doubted the expediency of punishing men because they did not wish to wear a square cap, a scholar's gown, a tippet, and a linen surplice. And as Oliver grew in stature and reason, he doubted still more, and all the arguments and invectives he heard urged against non-conformity only confirmed him the more in thinking the Puritans a very unfortunate, if not injured people.

Till he was eighteen, he had never heard them mentioned except with contempt or execration. At eighteen he saw Rebecca Welden. The seeming chance that first introduced them to each other was one of those events which, appearing casual, perhaps trifling, have yet an influence on the fate of the individuals concerned, which in those days was recorded as providential.

The parents of Rebecca Welden were non-conformists, and had died martyrs to their religious belief. They were not literally burnt or beheaded; but fell victims to the thousand tortures which a persecuting spirit, when armed with arbitrary power, has the means of inflicting. Fines, stripes, imprisonment, and the confiscation of their once ample estate they suffered, till finally their hearts were broken, and they both died within a few days of each other, leaving two children, Robert and Rebecca, who had been for some time under the care of an aunt. This lady, though a Puritan, was a very prudent woman, and she managed to compromise the matter between her creed and her conscience by reflecting that if she boldly avowed her principles,

and suffered in consequence, the poor orphans would lose their only stay. So she attended a regular church on the Sabbath, and spent the week in praying that her sin of lip worship might be forgiven her. But, as if to atone still further for her own lax observation of the tenets she believed, she labored to instil them, in their most severe and uncompromising spirit, into the souls of her nephew and niece. She succeeded, and when Oliver Temple first became acquainted with Rebecca Welden, and her brother, they were as strict and stern Puritans as the Rev. John Robinson would have desired.

With a young man of Oliver Temple's feelings and temperament, the persecutions these young people had endured in the persons of their parents would make an impression favorable to their cause; and Robert Welden was, like most of his sect, well versed in the theory of his religious opinions, and above all well acquainted with the history of the corruptions and oppressions of the hierarchy.

It would be impossible, without more speculations than we have time to pursue, even to guess whether Rebecca's virtues and beauty, or Robert's zeal and eloquence, had the most effect on Oliver Temple. Be that as it may, he soon became a thorough convert to the peculiar creed of the non-conformists, and what would of course be foreseen, a suitor for Rebecca's hand. An application to his father for consent to the union revealed to his parents not only the state of his heart, but his faith. The quotation that "the course of true love never did run smooth," would but poorly portray the storm, the tempest, the whiriwind that seemed loosened to work its fury on the devoted heads of these young sufferers. This result is all that can be told. They were separated. Oliver was sent into Northamptonshire, there to abide with a friend of his father's, as was reported. But he was carried to a castle and kept in the close confinement of a prisoner, not being permitted to see or speak with any one except his bigoted jailer, who thought the crime of daring to differ from the established form of church government was the most heinous and impious a subject could commit, except to question the divine right of his king.

Young Temple was confined in his apartment, which might very properly be styled a dungeon, hearly a year, as he could not escape, and would not purchase his freedom by the only alternative offered, which was that of taking a solemn oath to abjure forever the abominable heresy of non-conformity and Puritanism in all their forms. This oath he was resolute in rejecting, although threatened with a worse punishment than imprisonment. at last his father, as if convinced that severe measures were of no avail, wrote to him very kindly, and after telling him of the illness of his uncle, who was not expected to continue long, and hoping that the time he had spent in solitary reflection had convinced him of his errors, &c., informed him that a carriage had been sent, in which he might return to

But

his home and his friends, who were anxious to see him.

He

To the poor youth who had so long been detained from all intercourse with the world, the privilege of returning to his family appeared such a favor that for a time all the resentment he had felt for the wrongs he had endured was nearly obliterated. almost resolved to take the oath his father had prescribed, and probably would have voluntarily offered such a pledge of obedience to his parent-so much more easily is a generous mind subdued by human kindness than by threats of human vengeance-had not the recollection of Rebecca, and the hope that they might meet, and be one day united, operated to make him resolve still to hold fast the faith which was dear to her.

His parents received him with every demonstration of gladness, and no allusion was permitted to be made to the unhappy subject of his banishment. But Oliver was not long in discovering that, though he was ostensibly at liberty, yet a strict watch was kept to prevent him from holding any communication with the obnoxious party he was supposed to favor. His solitude had not been idly or unprofitably spent. He had been furnished with books and writing materials, and then the daring plans he had formed, and once or twice nearly executed, to obtain his freedom, had given him the habit of depending on himself, which his father considered as a very dangerous sentiment for a young gentleman to entertain. So he took him up to London that he might acquire the tone of flattery and obsequiousness so necessary to those who would shine at court.

Oliver had made repeated inquiries concerning Rebecca Welden and her brother; but had never been able to find a person who could give any information respecting them. He learned their aunt was dead, before he left his confinement; but what had become of her heretic nephew and niece, none of the loyal and true believers could be supposed interested to know.

In London, Oliver Temple passed several months, occupied with the usual pursuits and recreations of his age and station, apparently seeking happiness in society, but in reality searching for some clue whereby he might discover the place where Robert Welden and his sister had retreated. He did not dream that retreat was the grave! This truth was at last revealed to him. He saw accidentally, in London, a gentleman whom he knew was acquainted with the Weldens. After several unsuccessful efforts, he at length obtained an interview with the man, who told him that Robert Welden, in a desperate attempt to escape from a prison where he had been thrown for his religion, had wounded his jailer, as it was thought dangerously, and that, to avoid an ingnominious death, which he knew awaited him, he committed suicide.

"And Rebecca, what became of Rebecca?" ex claimed Oliver, clenching his hands and drawing in

his breath with the deep gurgling sound of a drowning man.

"She died the day after her brother." "A self-murderer was she?"

The gentleman looked at Oliver; the veins of his neck and, temples were swelling with the tide of passionate emotions which he could scarcely restrain from bursting into the violent paroxysm of insanity. He went to him, took his hand, and said in a soothing tone," Mr. Temple, this is a sorrowful business; but to the Lord we must resign ourselves and all that we hold dear. Remember, the Lord doth not willingly afflict."

"Then she did not kill herself?"

"No, no-she died of a fever, calmly as an infant falls asleep, and is now an angel in heaven."

Oliver's joints relaxed, his countenance lost its stern expression of passionate grief, his lip quivered, his eyelids drooped-one moment he struggled to suppress the outbreaking of his sorrow--but it might not be; nature triumphed over manly pride, he sank into a chair, and, covering his face, wept and sobbed as audibly as a child.

From that time, Oliver Temple was a changed man. There was a solemn severity in his countenance that announced, without the form of words, the Puritan in spirit. He considered himself as dead to the pleasures and hopes of this life, and the intensity of his thoughts and affections was directed how to secure the heavenly inheritance. To advance the cause for which Robert and Rebecca Welden had suffered was, as he believed, the only motive that induced him to wish to survive them. But in his own family he could hardly hope his efforts would be of any avail. He heard of the expedition to the New World, that was to be undertaken by godly men who went forth in the faith and strength of the Lord of hosts, to found a nation where man should be free to worship according to the commands of Scripture and the dictates of conscience.

In the mood of mind Oliver Temple then cherished, the expedition of the Puritan colony was just the one he would have chosen to join, rather than have been proclaimed ruler of the whole earth. He wrote to Mr. Johnson, of whom he had heard much good, and communicating the most important events of his life, besought his aid to enable him to escape from the temptations by which he was surrounded. In short, he wished to join the expedition unknown to his father or family. Mr. Johnson, though he would not have advised this step, did not think it his duty to oppose it. The young man was, by the civil law, of age to act for himself; and though the parental authority was highly venerated by our ancestors, among themselves, yet, like all who have a particular creed to support, involving what they consider the eternal welfare of its believers, they were sometimes too intent on advancing their Master's kingdom to attend to the minor point of earthly claims. "He that loveth father or mother more than

me, is not worthy of me," was a favorite text with the Puritans.

"Oliver Temple is willing to leave father and mother, yea, and houses and lands and title, for Christ's sake shall I discourage this zeal, or throw obstacles in the way of its immediate accomplishment, which may in the end prove a stumbling-block to this young Christian, even to the peril of his soul?" said Mr. Johnson to his wife.

She agreed with him that such would be sin for those who professed to be willing to endure every cross rather than disobey God.

Oliver Temple was accordingly admitted secretly on board the ship, in which Mr. Johnson and his wife, with Governor Winthrop and others of the most important members of the emigrating company, sailed in the spring of 1630.

There was no point of faith in which our ancestors were more fully established than in the firm belief of an overruling providence, which watched in a particular manner over them. In all their conversation, this belief was apparent. Neither was it, as some may suppose, the language of cant, or mere form of words. The faith that enabled them to endure unrepiningly the terrors and hardships of the wilderness, was that of the soul. The thought that God demanded the sacrifice of every selfish consideration animated them to endure privations; and though now, in these days of peace and plenty, liberty and liberal principles, we may sometimes feel inclined to smile at what we are pleased to term the credulity of those primitive Christians, yet the energy and consistency of their conduct, and the glorious results that have followed those labors they endured for their faith, should awe us from ridicule.

Indeed, if we would but call up the scene when those self-exiled men bade adieu to their homes in that pleasant land where their fathers had dwelt, and severing the ties of soul, which seem the sinews of our life, embarked on a wide and gloomy ocean in search of a resting-place in a new and almost unknown world, we should feel that they needed the high and holy excitement of a "faith that could remove mountains." They were not driven forth by the necessities of temporal want. They moved in obedience to the dictates of what they felt assured was the Spirit of God; and no wonder, therefore, that their language should be imbued with those thoughts which filled their hearts. Hence arose their frequent inference that Providence, in a particular and especial manner, directed their path; a sentiment which, if it cannot be deduced from philosophical principles, was, in their opinion, far more conclusively proved than mere human reason could have established-it was taught in the Bible.

"All things shall work together for good to them that love God!" was pronounced in a triumphant tone by Governor Winthrop when he would animate the ship's crew for the battle which was expected momentarily to begin. The odds were fearfully

« السابقةمتابعة »