Addresses to young children : second series
Illliili V • ' t <*fM« Vf f < ( < C ********•**, **?*.**r.»^*r ( ADDRESSES TO } CHILDREN SECOND SERIES. ADDRESSES YOUNG CHILDREN. LONDON : PRINTED BY WERTHEIMER, LEA AND CO., FINSBUBY CIBCUS. 1867. PREFACE. THE first series of Addresses having found favor with the children for whom they were origin- ally prepared, and having also been indulgently received by many parents and teachers, the writer feels encouraged to lay a second series before the youthful readers and before those kind friends who take an interest in their studies. Like its predecessor, the little book is not in- tended for publication, but as many copies as may be desired will be ready for distribution on application to the printers. These simple Addresses set forth the principles which, in the writer's belief, conduce to happiness through the zealous fulfilment of duty ; and it is earnestly hoped that they may find an echo in some minds, and help to foster the germs of true and active benevolence. 2093017 CONTENTS. I. PACE 1 MODERATION UNSELFISHNESS. COVETOUSNESS. II. 16 III. 26 IV. . 37 FillLY WORSHIP. V. . 47 CONCEIT VI. . 57 OUB MOST PRECIOUS VII. POSSESSIONS . 65 DEVOTED SERVICE VIII. 74 IX. 85 X. HONOUR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER . 90 REOI'EATION XI. 100 XII. THE RICH AND THE POOR MUST MEET TOGETHER, THE LORD IS THE MAKER OF THEM ALL. . . .111 xin. HEALTH 124 Vlll CONTENTS. PAGE XIV. SICKNESS 133 XV. JACOB'S DREAM 140 xvi. TIME PLIES 147 XVII. TOLERATION 159 XVIII. CLEANLINESS 171 XIX. PRIDE AND VANITY ....... 177 XX. ON DUTY 185 XXL THE QUALITIES OF OTHERS AND OUR OWN . . . 194 XXII. MORNING AND EVENING 205 xxm. IHE BOUNDLESS GENEROSITY OF NATURE . . .213 XXIV. DEATH AND IMMORTALITY ...... 226 IN MEMORIAM 23(5 I. SELF-KNOWLEDGE. MY DEAR CHILDREN. Among all the lessons carefully and con- stantly in stilled into your minds at home and abroad, there is one rule upon which peculiar stress is always laid — one precept incessantly brought under your notice, and not only vividly recommended by the experience of a watchful father, solicitous for your welfare, or of a tender mother, ever hoping for your prosperity, and desirous of showing you the best means of securing it, or by the devoted teachers, who, in the discharge of their duties, deem it a paramount obligation to point out the transcendant necessity of knowledge ; but a precept ardently taught and uniformly handed down by the greatest sages of all centuries. It comes to you with the solemn authority of Holy Scripture ; it sounds through ages, dropping, like sweet honey, from the eloquent lips of inspired philosophers and kings ; it travels to you surrounded by a halo of unfading glory; it says, with the combined strength and influence of past eras, " Learn, for knowledge is power;" it repeats, with the wisdom of modern B 2 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. times, and its myriads of busy tongues, " Learn, for knowledge is light and warmth :" nor do those words ever echo, like the wind, through desert air, or often fall on deaf ears. Far from it ; they are prized like celestial manna, raining down for the nourishment of exhausted multitudes. It is pleasant to feel assured, as we do, that information is now eagerly sought; and that, in every country, millions of children, and even men and women, flock to the purest fountains — to the most invigorating streams of human lore. Yet, strange to say, there is one kind of knowledge, and that by far the most precious, which we often wofully neglect ; and this is the more surprising, as it is knowledge the most easily acquired, provided we are truthful and persevering in its pursuit. Such negligence is, therefore, not only the most guilty and the most extraordinary, be- cause the ignorance, in which we remain plunged, is entirely voluntary, and completely independent of outward circumstances and opportunities, but also and chiefly as the knowledge here alluded to is far more interesting than the highest branches of art, the most alluring mysteries of science, and the most ambitious flights of philosophy. I mean self-knowledge. My dear children, you are always able to gain it, whether in wealth or in poverty — whether in solitude, or while mixing with the world — whether SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 3 surrounded by your loved ones, or eking out your subsistence among strangers — at all periods of your life, at every hour of the day, while floods of sunshine are brightening the time of labour for you, or while lengthening shadows in- dicate the approach of night. You need no lamp in darkness to pursue those important studies within your soul, nor do any mists by day ever veil the light of the skies sufficiently to prevent your seeing clearly into the labyrinths of the heart; and you require no thread to lead you through them. Divine goodness provided you with a guide when it gave you conscience — that faithful com- panion, inseparable from your inner self, whose gentle voice is, indeed, so soft and so low, that the sister, who flings her loving arms around you, or the mother, who clasps you to her breast, cannot hear its whispering; yet whose faintest sound the crash of cannon, the fearful artillery of heaven, the roaring waves thundering against basalt rocks, and the whirlwinds howling through the branches of gigantic trees, are not powerful enough to drown. Nor is time ever wanting for a rigorous self- examination. On opening our eyelids in the morning, when we awake to the beauties of nature, and to a renewed enjoyment of the gifts of Providence, before we shape our feelings and our hopes into thanksgiving and prayer, let us 4 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. turn our delighted looks away for awhile from the splendours of the rising sun, and from the dew that sparkles in its earliest rays, and anxiously endeavour to ascertain whether we are worthy of the new day that has just dawned upon us ; and whether the blessings of life, and the energies of body and mind vouchsafed to us, have hitherto been employed for the advantage of those nearest and dearest to our affections, as well as for the good of wider circles — whether we have fulfilled every duty, developed every gift, exerted every power, endeavoured boldly to face every fault, and tried, with all our might, to banish every foe dangerous to our inward peace. And we may well be encouraged in the work of daily intro- spection, when we reflect that it really involves no egotism, which can lead to baneful results, but that, on the contrary, it is, perhaps, the only species of selfishness which we need not fear ; for the more closely we search, the more abundantly we shall find blemishes that ought to be quickly removed, failings that should be remedied by the force of indefatigable perseverance, or good germs, that have been permitted to lay dormant, instead of being quickened into useful life, qualities rusting from inaction, whereas they should have been fostered and stimulated to lead to the possession and exercise of every virtue. And remember, also, that by acquiring self-knowledge SELF-KNOWLEDGlf. 5 we shall be able to keep our failings in the back- ground, so that they may not become obtrusive and offensive ; while a more intimate acquaintance with our powers will encourage us with hopes of success, and, under God's blessing, enable us to attempt the fulfilment of our most important obligations. Depend upon it, my dear children, the craving for every fruit of human lore, the thirsting after the clear waters of truth, the anxiety of exploring heaven and earth for inform- ation, are, no doubt, very legitimate emotions, but they should remain subordinate to the feeling that makes us dive for self-knowledge into the deepest recesses of our own hearts. An eloquent writer has made this important subject unmistakeably evident by many striking illustrations; he has compared our indifference to self-knowledge with the lack of curiosity in one who might for many years have vouchsafed hos- pitality and the constant shelter of his house to a visitor, without evincing the slightest wish to make his acquaintance, or even to see his features — with the incomprehensible apathy or indolence of a man, who, in possession of the most beautiful collection of pictures, of the finest library of rare books, of the most admirable works of art, has, nevertheless, completely disregarded his own treasures, and never even taken the trouble of looking at them ; allowing his choicest volumes to 6 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. become mouldy or moth-eaten ; and the spider to hang his obscuring webs over the most glowing paintings of ancient or modern art — or with the restless longing of those, who hasten eagerly to dis- tant lands before they have ever thought of becom- ing acquainted with their own country. And yet, the writer truly observes, how trifling appears such a passion for novelty and recreation at a distance from the domestic hearth, when compared with the anxious desire of surveying all departments of knowledge lying far and wide apart, while we are guilty of the unaccountable folly of neglecting entirely the regions within our own breast. And here let me remind you, my dear children, that long voyages and travels, that studies and scientific researches are not within every one's reach ; but that bodily or intellectual organisation, outward circumstances, the want or insufficiency of pecuniary means, or of remarkable mental faculties, render the pursuit of art or science often difficult or impossible ; whereas the light of con- sciousness unfailingly dawns upon us; even the blind, the deaf, the maimed, the lame, the pa- ralyzed, can see, hear, walk, and feel in that often unknown and unvisited land of the heart; and we want no outward help, not even the assistance of our senses, nor the activity of our limbs, to guide us successfully through its mazes. We require for it much less the aid of costly apparatus, of SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 7 telescopes, or observatories ; for the power of reflection is a faculty more wondrous by far than any mechanical contrivance ; it is unlimited in its action ; it is the possession alike of the poor and the rich ; and though it may be more completely deve- loped in the highly cultivated, and rendered more penetrating and subtle by practice, yet it is suffi- ciently strong even in the uneducated and the ignorant, who, though not always able to account for their conclusions, can still view accurately their own thoughts, motives, and impressions, provided they look steadfastly into the workings of their soul. How strange it appears, that even among those who would feel ashamed of being considered ignorant with regard to general information, and who perhaps eagerly peruse every new work which has any claim to the attention of the public, there are yet to be found many who never pay the slightest regard to self-knowledge, and especially neglect that peculiar root of it, from which the other branches and leaves seem to spring. It is of real value and importance that every person should be acquainted with the organisation and the laws of his physical nature ; the effect of cold and heat upon his system, the inevitable result of sufficient, excessive, or dangerous nourish- ment; the influence of inhaling pure air, or of breathing a vitiated atmosphere. 8 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. With regard to intellectual teaching, whenever it is not simply mechanical, but aims at unfolding all the mental gifts and innate talents, then surely the information should not be given in an empirical way, but should be adapted to the natural ten- dencies of the mind, so that wit and humour have fair play, that fancy and imagination be guided, enriched, or corrected; that memory be copiously stored; the organs of form, of colour, and lan- guage, of time and tune, be duly exercised. But if mere intellectual training ought to repose on an intimate knowledge of the inborn -faculties and cravings, how infinitely more momentous is that true and complete acquaintance with our moral nature, upon which depends our temporal as well as our spiritual happiness. The unremitting attention required by our state of health, may, in the years of our infancy or early youth, devolve upon our parents and guardians ; later in life, the loving sister, the devoted daughter, may watch over us with fond affection, or the physician may advise us, or prescribe successfully for our ail- ments ; but it is far more difficult for even our most clear-sighted and energetic friends to place a safeguard round our intellectual nature, the defects of which, if overlooked or disregarded by ourselves, may lead us astray into inordinate con- ceit, or may confirm us in the most obdurate and presumptuous confidence in our ovm foolish SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 9 notions and ideas, all drawing us eventually into disappointments and failures. But when our defi- ciency of self-knowledge regards not our bodily frame, nor our mental qualifications, but relates to the faults of the heart, then, indeed, the peril is great, and there are not words vivid enough to paint it. It is very true, that we may be so fortunate as to meet with sincere advisers to give us good counsel; but even the most indefatigable guide along the road of life, cannot remove from our path all lacerating thorns, all cutting stones, nor free us from the heavy burden of responsibility. Errors of the soul, far more dangerous than those of the understanding, if unnoticed by ourselves, not merely affect our name or position, but they may make us entirely miserable, hopelessly wretched; while many persons, however unsuccess- ful in the great world of strife and struggle, may, if all is calm and peaceful within their bo- som, find consolation when in communion with themselves. It has been said, that hypocrisy is the homage almost unwittingly paid by vice to virtue; and there appears to be, not only some peculiar or natural mystery about sin, but also a soft deluding cha- racter in its manifestation, as even by the most rigorous examination, moral defects are not 8C' easily ascertained as mental acquirements or short- Bfi 10 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. comings ; for secret faults, singularly enough, often put on the bright garb of virtue. Thus we are able to mistake silly vanity and sense- less self-worship for love of approbation, that is to say, for the constant aim to win good opinions ; the egregious folly of pride for self-respect and dignity; sore-eyed envy for the appreciation of all that is valuable; mean greed and covetous- ness for a laudable wish to improve our worldly circumstances; avarice for thrift and praise- worthy prudence; anger, and even hatred and revengeful sentiments, for a high spirit of independ- ence, for a discriminating knowledge of right and wrong, for fine and delicate feeling as contrasted with indifference and negligence. Most justly does the Psalmist say, " Who can understand his errors ; cleanse Thou me from secret faults !" The ugliness of sin may, probably, explain its self- concealing tendency ; one of its features, how- ever, that has been frequently pointed out, is undeniable, namely, that it becomes en- tirely evident only when strongly repulsed; — quietly and passively it is never given up. It seems like the turbulent stream, whose rapidity is not noticed, until the boat, on its wildly -dashing waters, strives to withstand the mad current that would sweep it along; or similar to the billows, whose height and strength remain unknown, until broken by hard SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 11 or towering reefs ; or, it may be compared to the blast, which, almost noiseless when flying over broad wastes or moors, becomes alarming when it howls round lofty masts, or wails and moans at doors and windows, closed and barred against its fury. Sin often makes us feel ashamed of knowing our- selves. Some of us may, perhaps, have suspected, or seen, one little frightful corner, and then shrunk from the pain of unveiling to their mind's eye, the whole humiliating picture of their faults and failings. Yet such willing blindness relates chiefly to our inward being. With regard to outward circumstances, we should consider our apathy unpardonable, and almost amounting to insanity, if, when threatened with danger to life or fortune, with the horrors of shipwreck or fire, with death from the fang of serpents, or the rage of savage animals, or with ruin from the effects of reckless speculation, we did not endeavour to escape from peril; or if, when sickness is ap- proaching, we awaited death, either without calling in a physician, or without heeding his advice and prescriptions. Yet, rare and startling, and almost incredible, as such utter indifference and neglect may seem to be in the general affairs and incidents of life; in matters of spiritual interest, there are, I am afraid, too many persons, who but seldom en- 12 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. deavour to penetrate into the chambers of their breast. It is, however, impossible to pass through life, without experiencing sickness and sorrow; and, under such painful visitations, conscience, long dumb or silenced, speaks reproachfully to the most careless ear ; harassing anxiety tortures the soul, and remorseful pangs trouble even the most heedless and the most obdurate. During many years, perhaps under the broad disc of trifling annoyances, fleeting amusements, and frivolous pleasures, our true nature lies dormant and torpid ; but death, which carries off our most dearly-loved friends and companions, or threatens their existence as well as our own brief tenure of life, awakens, with dread and suffering, the somnolent soul, and leaves it trembling in its helplessness, to face the unknown power. Again : self-ignorance is explained by the often slow and imperceptible steps by which sinful habits are contracted. The changes which thus take place in us, have, therefore, been justly com- pared to those that occur in the outward world, when one season merges by degrees into the other; and we are led, by the gentlest transitions from blooming spring, with its myriads of sweetly- scented flowers, to glowing summer and its golden harvests, to fruitful autumn and its generous gifts, imperceptibly on to dreary winter, so cold and so bare, so leafless and so colourless. Thus SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 13 childhood, with its sunny looks and ruby lips, its laughter-loving voice, that knows no care, gives way to blushing girlhood, with its bright dreams and fond hopes; while that again disappears before womanhood, with its load of duties and responsibilities, until hoary old age, often with frowns and furrows, and surrounded by regrets and self-reproaches, brings us, unawares, to life's decline. Similar alterations take place, unobserved or unheeded, in our character. Frequently, as in our external form, the gradual growth and deve- lopment of faults in our inward nature, while becoming disagreeably apparent to others, remain unnoticed by us ; we omit to question conscience, that mirror of the soul ; we close our eyes and ears, and let the work of internal havoc go on silently and invisibly : for, alas ! as the character decays and becomes defaced, there is a parallel decline of the principle by which we judge of it ; the power which perceives sin, partakes of the general injury, and does not remain stationary. You will understand me better, if I illustrate my meaning by reminding you that when palsy becomes confirmed, the unfortunate sufferers lose, not merely the faculty of directing their movements, but also the bodily power of sensation and per- ception; for instance, they do not feel the difference between ice and glowing coals, between 14 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. the most rugged stone and the softest swan's down, between the touch of a rose-leaf or the impression of burning caustic. The morally indifferent appear like patients in a deep magnetic trance, who are said to bear the infliction of pins and needles, thrust into their flesh, without shrinking or even murmuring. But they do wake and shudder at the injury inflicted during their sleep. So does our moral nature wake, when sorrows and calamities rouse us; it wakes and trembles at the slow fever, which, like a painless cancer, deadened by powerful opiates, has devoured our best qualities, and burnt and drunk our purest life- blood away. Nor must you suppose, my dear children, that self-ignorance can be an excuse for wrong-doing ; in such a case, guilt and danger walk hand-in- hand ; having destroyed the torch that would have guided us, we are, of course, liable to fall in the dark, having willingly closed our ears to the powerfully warning voice within, we are bereft of our most precious treasures of thought and feeling. Well-defined dangers may be avoided or overcome; but who can wage war against unseen traps and snares ? Therefore, my dear children, look stedfastly, carefully and perseveringly into the depths of your hearts; hearken attentively and eagerly to the admonitions of conscience; think that you SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 15 have to maintain the purity of your souls before God, and thank Him humbly and lovingly for all His favours and blessings. But do not, for a single moment, forget, that self-knowledge was never intended by the Divine Creator to lead you to egotism; that it is, on the contrary, intended as the best and surest means of guiding you to the fulfilment of all your duties towards your fellow- men. For had you been designed to live quite alone, on the airy heights of mountain-crests, or, below, in the most fruitful valley of any desert island, self-revelation would scarcely be requisite; you would certainly have the sacred obligation of gratitude to your Almighty Maker and Preserver, and of devout appreciation of all the gifts of His goodness; but, in your total isolation, your breast could harbour neither covetousness nor pride, neither anger, nor malice, nor hatred, nor resent- ment, nor violence ; nor would you have any scope for generosity and charity; for faithful devotion and unrepining self-sacrifice; for the exercise of the noblest virtue, or of the gentlest kindliness; for the award of mercy, and of pardon ; for the oblivion of wounding offences : in fact, for the development of that true and deep love, which does not shrink from a whole life of meek ser- vitude. [This address was written after the perusal of an excellent sermon on the same subject.] n. MODEEATION. MY DEAR CHILDREN. In the whole circle of human failings there are scarcely any against which you have not been anxiously cautioned; there are none of which you have not been told how easily they may lead to vices whose entanglements become, indeed, heavy chains, and render the enjoyment of happi- ness impossible ; there are none of which you have not heard how rapidly they may deepen into sin, and thus foreshadow a whole life of suffering and sorrow. On the other hand, there is surely no quality which has not been placed before you as a lamp of brilliancy to throw light upon the most rugged, the most difficult path, to help you in the fulfilment of duty, and guide you to the goal of bright contentment. Let us hope, my dear chil- dren, that no lessons have been lost; that all have sunk deeply into well-disposed minds, and induced you to shrink from evil ; that they have been la ODER ATI ON. 17 treasured by warm and generous hearts, and have kindled enthusiasm and admiration for every great aim, for every good deed. And yet, strange and contradictory as it may seem, it is of the utmost importance to warn you, my dear children, lest you should, even in the exercise of the best feel- ings, drift unconsciously into exaggeration. Sin- gular as it probably appears, it is, nevertheless, perfectly true, that our noblest qualities, if de- veloped to excess, may lead us astray, and plunge into difficulties and disappointments, not merely ourselves, but what is perhaps far worse, those whom we should strive to delight and to benefit. It has most truly been said that " Moderation is the silken thread running through the pearl chain of all virtues." Moderation connects the qualities which, in- stead of being scattered and lost, thus adorn a whole life. Among them, and especially in con- nection with the best attributes of women and young maidens, patience occupies, if not the highest, the foremost rank, as nothing can be more quietly useful than the unpretending submission which bows without a murmur to the daily and inevitable trials and troubles of life; nothing can be more softening than the gentleness which, in the home circle, overcomes all difficulties of temper and disposition, and causes cheerfulness to smile round the domestic hearth ; for surely, even those who are 18 MODERATION. habitually harsh and stubborn in word and action, become unwittingly vanquished by the mild sway of calm serenity. It is, indeed, like the warm sunshine of the fable that caused the chilly way- farer to relinquish his protecting cloak, which the most violent efforts of the raging wind had been unable to tear off. Yet patience may be carried too far, and degenerate into weakness. It may disable us for the duty of withstanding injustice and tyranny; it may cause us to endure an existence of suffering, while calm yet firm opposition might secure for us a life of enjoyment; it may transform our active powers for good into the mere passive habit of endurance and into the dull capacity of bearing rebukes and affronts ; it may encourage and develop the faults of others. If patience deserves praise among the pearl chaplet of virtues, persever- ance receives even a larger share of approbation, because it appears to shine in alliance with constant and well-sustained exertion ; and, at first sight, it would seem almost impossible to tear the silken thread which binds it to the sister qualities — for who can hope to succeed, or who deserves to win any prize without constant industry, without indefatigable assiduity, without the eagerness that lends wings to the homely painstaking, without persistent activity, without unflagging readiness to go on — to move forward, whether the object MODERATION. 19 be to acquire knowledge, to win applause and fame, or to serve individuals or large commu- nities. And yet perseverance may overstep the boundaries of utility. It ceases to merit admira- tion when it is blunted into drudgery; it ceases to be praiseworthy when the animating spirit droops and vanishes, when it becomes purely mechanical, moving automaton-like through the day, losing sight, in its methodical round of occupations, of other duties, other obligations; or when it is over- excited into restlessness, when it assumes the form of perpetual agitation, of feverish haste, which cannot know that repose during which the highest thoughts are matured, and the noblest resolves take root and are warmly cherished. And does firmness require the guard of modera- tion? Is not its own immobility a rare advan- tage ? When vacillation is swayed by every passing breath, like the flame of a candle; when hesitation may mar the success of a whole life; when un- steadiness counteracts innumerable excellent pur- poses; when ever-changing mobility annihilates all prospects of advancement ; when inconstancy deals blows and inflicts wounds which regret and remorse are often unable to heal ; when fickleness of taste and disposition renders natural talents and good in- tentions nugatory: can firmness be a virtue which requires moderation ? Yes, my dear children, for it is possible to carry even firmness too far. Not, 20 MODERATION. however, if by it is meant that uncompromising tenacity of will, which adheres to every rule of conduct, that has been well considered and care- fully weighed in the balance of right and wrong; nor that self-control which resists all temptations and all blandishments, however enchanting they may be ; nor unswerving fidelity to friends, what- ever their position; nor that self-reliance which abides by its own conscientious opinions, heedless of worldly consequences; nor the determination ever to render complete justice to others, and to remain unshaken in the fulfilment of duty. Yet firmness may degenerate into obstinacy, and thus check improvement ; it may oppose a dead wall to advancement, a sterile adamantine rock to the precious seeds, which, in a better soil, would pro- duce flowers of beauty and fruits of sweetness. In the world of politics it has sometimes been observed with regret and censure that statesmen have not remained true to their creed and their principles, and that a long life has often been unfavourably marked by great changes of opinion. Yet it would scarcely be possible, without obstinacy and narrow- mindedness, to maintain a perpetual and complete immutability of ideas. The development of civili- sation, and, indeed, the progress of every passing year must bring forth alterations in the condition of human affairs : such changes and strides cannot but modify the convictions of legislators, and cause MODERATION. 21 them to amend or abrogate old laws, and frame new ones, suited to different times and altered circumstances. Indeed, whatever our place in the world, the waves of life will carry us gently, or rapidly, or perhaps imperceptibly, along; the obstinate alone, self-willed and inflexible, who are morally blind and deaf, who see not, and hear not, and heed not, are left behind. And justice! can that overstep the boundaries of moderation? Surely not, if by it we mean perfect equity — fairness that must win all well- balanced minds, admirable fitness in all things, and complete impartiality. But even justice with- out the companion pearl linked to it by the silken chain of moderation, justice without mercy, which signifies pity, forbearance, sympathy, indulgence, and oblivion, may be nought but a sharp and relentless sword. Let us not, however, forget that we may be too merciful, and, by indiscriminately granting abso- lution, render amendment impossible. And energy, which is almost synonymous with ability, with force and might, with the power of con- trolling our fellow-men, and, to a certain degree, of ruling events, of swaying and holding in sub- jection whatever we wish to master, whatever we are desirous of accomplishing, does not the exer- cise of it require moderation ? For is it not too easily tempted to resort to harshness and to arbi- 22 MODERATION. trary means ? And prudence, which seems as if it could never be carried beyond the verge of good feelings and useful actions ; prudence, which for our children and our friends, for those en- trusted to our care and for ourselves, causes us to guard against every possible danger; which makes us discreet in word and deed ; cautious lest we should divulge secrets, evince curiosity or anxiety, defeat pending negotiations, mar important ar- rangements, and prove perhaps that silver is, indeed, the inferior metal, whereas silence is gold : can prudence require moderation ? Yes ; for reserve may become excessive, and check or destroy open-heartedness ; it may act as a bar to candour, to frankness, to sincerity, not merely with regard to the wary and cautious themselves, but it may have the same influence upon those with whom they are brought into contact. Ever- calculating prudence repels confidence, and stifles the effusion of much harmless joy, and mirth, and happiness. And watchfulness in health and in sickness, at home and abroad, in your own households, near the cradle of the infant, while following with loving eye the frolicsome games of childhood, or superintending the studies and endeavours of youth — can that stand in need of moderation ? It seems so ; for the ever-vigilant, the Argus-eyed may become suspicious, and suspicion poisons the MODERATION. 23 very life-blood, and fills every hour \vith tor- turing pangs. Can the dictates of conscience ever be carried too far ? Is it possible to do wrong by listening to that soft, clear, unerring voice, which never leaves us from the time when our reason first dawns to the last wakeful moment of our existence? It is grievous to think that its twin virtue — zeal — may cause it to overstep the line of duty. Vehe- ment emotion, uncontrollable eagerness, glowing fervour, are known to have frequently led, especially in matters of religion — those most sacred interests of life — to interference, and even to intolerance. Those who feel thus impelled to question the creed and faith of others, are apt to forget that such points of belief and of reverence are matters between man and his Maker, not to be searched into by human eyes. Even enthusiasm, which makes the heart beat and glow for all that is great and noble, and often lifts it above the vicissitudes of daily life into bright spheres of hope and joyful expectation, may be so completely dazzled as to lose itself in shifting cloudland, and overlooking stern realities, to rush headlong into wild, impracticable, and even dan- gerous schemes. Liberality, which is free and large-hearted, and generosity, another name for the most chivalrous spirit, for heroism and magnanimity, for the feeling 24 MODERATION. that acknowledges and admires greatness and noble elevation of character in others, and is ever striv- ing to give praise, time, labour, and wealth, may be perverted into extravagance, into lavish expendi- ture of treasure and of unmerited rewards. Charity, which represents human excellence in its highest essence, with its overflowing streams of milk of kindness, with benevolence ever hastening to do good, and never weary of works of beneficence and of self-denial, may be productive of harm, if misled by pleading compassion into indiscriminate alms- giving, which destroys independence, fosters careless habits and indolence; it may countenance artfulness, and call into existence unblushing imposition. Even devotion and piety, holiness of life, supplications and prayers, which strengthen and purify us, and surround our earthly career with a halo of the peace and serenity of heaven, may exceed their limits by completely withdrawing our thoughts and sympathies from the cares and duties of this world. Courage, the entire absence of fear, dauntless bravery, lion-hearted valour, may be exaggerated into bold presumption and offensive audacity. And modesty, the gentlest of all virtues, com- pared from times immemorial to the sweet violet which nestles under sheltering leaves that screen it from the gaze of the world, may not even that be hidden too far from the appreciation of man MODERATION. 25 — may not timorous bashfulness conceal good and great qualities completely ? It is well to be un- pretending and unostentatious, but does not an excess of modesty curtail its own merits and its powers of usefulness? Those who are uncon- scious of their own value — though no doubt the case is rare — or who do not prize it sufficiently, lose innumerable opportunities of developing their abilities, and of rendering true service to others. And humility, when an equivalent for unrepining submission to the will of the Most High, for tranquil obedience to inevitable and impene- trable decrees, is surely a pearl beyond price : yet humility among our fellow-beings should be held in check by moderation. For it may look like the absence of self-esteem, and wear the garb of humble resignation, while in reality it covers the sufferings of a wounded heart; it may thus be quite misunderstood, and perhaps encourage the proud, the wayward, or heedless, in their utter disregard of our feelings. My dear children, it would indeed be delightful if we oould hope to tread the paths of life adorned with the pearl-chain of all virtues ; but be these brightly gleaming gems few or many, they are in peril of becoming scattered, or even irretrievably lost, without the silken and protecting string of Moderation. m. UNSELFISHNESS. MY DEAR CHILDREN. There are some faults, whether inherent in us or acquired, upon which we are apt to look, if not with complacency, as being less sinful and danger- ous than those of our neighbours, or than many failings that might stain and deface our moral character, at least with indulgence, because we do not believe them to be likely to injure others, or to deprive them of even an hour's happiness or enjoyment. Among them, there is a most insidious and deluding fault, which we do not sufficiently repel, because there is, alas! nothing new or startling in its nature, because the germ is born with our birth, and, being frequently fostered by outward circumstances, often grows with our growth. It is the fault, perhaps it ought to be called the sin, of selfishness. In its origin, its sphere of 'action appears so circumscribed, so completely confined to ourselves, our own wants and wishes, tastes and habits, occupations and pastimes, that it does not in any way appear to aflFect others, but, on the contrary, seems to leave them entirely unharmed UNSELFISHNESS. 27 and unmolested, without causing any interruption in their best and favourite pursuits, without throw- ing a cloud over their horizon, and without casting a shadow upon the sunlight of their happiness. For it is not like envy, which tortures those who harbour it, and those who feel themselves the objects of its bitterness; it is not relentless jealousy, with its sharp fangs dealing double wounds ; not malice, with its poisoned shafts and seldom-erring missiles ; nor blind and undying hatred ; nor fierce revenge, more implacable still in its aim; it is not double-faced treachery ; not debasing fraud ; not falsehood, tale-bearing, or evil-speaking. Yet the sin of selfishness to which I allude is not the less baneful because it bears a harmless appearance; for it isolates us in feeling, mind, and action from the circle of our friends, and must lead us to sacrifice the interests of others to the gratification of our own wishes. But you will ask, my dear children, how can we most successfully wage war against our faults, and especially remove the blot of selfish- ness? The best weapon, believe me, is the faith- ful and vivid remembrance of our duties. It is impossible to fulfil them without great efforts or great privations ; and by persevering in such en- deavours of self-denial, by battling against inter- vening obstacles and difficulties, we cannot fail to do some good ; for we shall constantly have noble 28 UNSELFISHNESS. aims in view, and thus develop our best qualities and powers, while we hold our faults in subjection. The devotion to some excellent object — the most unwavering devotion — will be the best safeguard against the growth of selfishness. In the whole range of our duties, there are none more ennobling and more blissful than those obligations of true ser- vice, of regard and affection; and do not forget, that the sacred volume declares, " A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity." Yes, a friend is unalterable and unswerving in his sympathy; his faithful attachment, so far from languishing, seems to increase, when called into action by the trials and sufferingsof those whom he has learnt to cherish, be they near and dear relatives, or merely valued and beloved fellow-pil- grims on the road of life. The Holy Bible, which abounds in admirable lessons to guide all genera- tions in the path of duty and righteousness, offers a most touching example of complete self-denial and boundless devotion in the story of Ruth, who, when repeatedly asked, nay, implored by the poor and aged, the childless and sorrow-stricken Naomi, to stay in her own country and with her own people, to dwell under the protecting roof of her mother's house, and seek solace in the endear- ments of a fond mother's love, instead of sharing the poverty and hardships of the afflicted, instead of wandering forth into a strange, unknown land, UNSELFISHNESS. 29 vowed to cling to Naomi in her loneliness, and met the most earnest supplications by the follow- ing beautiful words — " Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God ; where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried." My dear children, Ruth was certainly rewarded in the end for her self-denying devotion, for having preferred the fulfilment of duty to the enjoyment of a tran- quil home in her own land, in the circle of her own family; but that reward she could not have foreseen, or even hoped for. It is in accordance with God's beautiful and immutable laws, which so beneficently rule the Universe, that we should prefer light to darkness, day to night, sunshine to clouds, smiles to tears, and the sight of mirthful happiness to gloomy scenes of sorrow. It is natural we should seek our 30 UNSELFISHNESS. friends on all glad and festive occasions, and that every auspicious event which increases their hap- piness and prosperity, should claim our sympathy, and cause us to rejoice with the joyous. It is owing to a genial impulse of our nature, that the bright days and happy occurrences graciously vouchsafed by the goodness of the Almighty, and marking with gladness the flight of time, should find us ready and eager to partici- pate in the satisfaction and delight of our friends; that the heavenly gift of every child born unto those we love and esteem, be thought an additional blessing, and hailed with pleasure — that the confir- mation of that child, changing the fond but vague hopes of anxious parents into fair promises of excellence, Le a theme of congratulation — that the marriage rite, that most binding interchange of sacred vows of unselfishness, be celebrated by affec- tionate relatives and friends, as a great and solemn event — indeed that all festivals and festivities should find us happy and thankful partakers. All this is but natural; for it is surely delightful to behold human happiness, and to share it by the power of sympathy; and God, whose Divine hand has made this world so enchantingly beautiful, and whose Providence showers such innumerable blessings upon us, has graciously willed and permitted that light and warmth, and the flowers of brightness and sweetness, shall far exceed the cold shadows, the UNSELFISHNESS. 31 threatening clouds and fierce tempests that occasion- ally overcast the horizon. Still, the dark shadows exist, and their gloom often falls on the best and kindest, and most dearly beloved of our friends : but that darkness cannot conceal them from our own view; it should not separate them from us, nor build up a wall between their sorrows and anxieties, and our affection. 