noble attributes of our immortal Maker, to regard the proper appreciation of woman as a part of our religion; as a charm against the overwhelming and soul-destroying absence of any real worship of the Deity-any knowledge of heaven -any hope of enjoying, either here or hereafter, that lifecontinuing peace of God, which passeth man's pious and better understanding.

"GOD of our Fathers! who, in this our land,

When his sworn foes, with fury drunk and blind,
To work the ruin of thy Church design'd,

Didst blast their counsels, and thy outstretch'd hand,
Where her high towers in beauteous order stand,
Was as a shield of flame, again combin'd

Men of all creeds with men whose ulcerous mind'
Frets at all creeds alike, a recreant band,

Again they rage; and those who should be ours,
With more than wishes, more than loud applause,
Abet their purpose; still though danger lours,
Strong in thy strength we will not shrink or pause,

But on to meet it! Nerve, oh! nerve our 'powers,'
God of our Fathers! we maintain thy cause."

"Let it be deeply, and incessantly impressed, upon the minds of all, that the people of God are members of his immutable church, which consists not merely of present and visible worshippers, but of the good men of all ages: and little is it to be supposed, that they who have completed their course, who have fully proved the might of the heavenly Spirit, and the worth of the Redeemer's intercession; that they who form the most glorious portion of the Protestant Christian Church, should be now passing the first ages of their glory in unconscious rest. In the same manner, the redeemed are members of that mystical body of which Christ is himself the head; for the church is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.' And this is of itself almost sufficient to prove that no soul which hath been converted, can ever cease to be conscious; for how should any member of that body lose its quickening, which hath the fountain of eternal life to replenish it? Would Christ be fittingly clothed with glory on his throne in the heavens, did the living stream stop short, leaving the forms with which he has surrounded himself slumbering for want of its revivifying power? No! the life and energy which Christ derives from his Almighty Father, descend in undiminished currents to the humblest members of his body: the life-the inconceivable, essential life, which, finding the frame even of glorified humanity too narrow a vessel for its fulness, beams forth, and mingling with the celestial light around him, mantles his form with all the splendour of Deity; that life, thus glorious in Christ, envelops

the sin-emancipated and renewed souls of his people, diffuses itself with inexhaustible plenteousness through all the issues of rational being, and keeps the whole kingdom of heaven,— both of saints still fighting the good fight, and of saints who have gone to their reward."

Let me adjure then, in the name of all that is good and profitable for the sex, and the living-in the name of religion, virtue, beauty-and what else may be deemed fitting the occasion, and aptly proper-the BRITISH WOMEN Who become brides, wives, mothers, governesses of families-to strenuously and unceasingly inculcate the doctrines and principles of our divine Christian faith to all that are under their domestic authority, and, above all, the practice of morning and evening prayers. Soon shall we perceive the yet boundless results of a nearer approach to practical Christianity, and that abode of light and loveliness-gracious and pitying heaven. ED.

WOMAN.

As we glance o'er the scenes in life's prospect appearing,
How few do we find that are lovely and bright!
But if aught in that view sheds a ray that is cheering,
From woman, dear woman, it borrowes its light.

When our cheeks, with our wine, are in harmony glowing,
The joys of the revel her triumph proclaim;

For the charm that sets goblets and hearts overflowing,
Is woman, that dear irresistible name!

Does the Warrior exult in his terrible duty?

Yet deem not his heart by ambition possess'd :-
His wreath must be wove by the soft hand of beauty,
And woman's the star he would win to his breast.

The Mariner roams through the deserts of ocean,
The youth of the Worldling in labour is past,—
But Love is the impulse that sets them in motion,
And woman's the magnet that draws them at last.

There is not a path in this life but is thorny,-
There is not a scene but is gloomy as night;

Till the roses of Love are bestrewed through the journey,
And woman, dear woman! diffuses her light.

**

RETROSPECTIVE ESSAY.

We cannot take a survey of countries and ages, without remarking that women have been uniformly adored and oppressed-loved and despised.

Man, who has never missed an opportunity of abusing his power, has everywhere availed himself of their weakness, while he paid homage to their beauty, and has been at once their tyrant and their slave:

Nature herself, in forming beings with so much sensibility, and so much softness, seems to be much more interested in their charms than their happiness. For ever encompassed with afflictions, and with fears, they partake all our evils, and are, besides, subject to others peculiar to their sex.

In giving life to their infants, they hazard the loss of their own every change which they experience, impairs their health: cruel disorders despoil their beauty, and threaten them with death; or at best, the slower, but certain hand of time, by daily stealing from them a part of themselves, destroys their charms. They can then only expect protection from the humiliating sentiment of compassion, or the feeble bond of gratitude.

Society still adds to the evils which nature has provided for them. More than half the globe is covered with savages, amongst all which people the women are extremely miserable. Man, in his savage state, is at the same time fierce and indolent; active only from necessity, but carried by an invincible inclination to repose, he knows scarcely any thing of love but appetite; and, having none of those moral ideas, which alone can soften the tyranny of that strength which his untutored mind accustoms him to regard as the only law of nature, he commands despotically those beings who are his equals in reason, but his subjects from weakness. Women, amongst the Indians, are what the Ilotes were amongst the Spartans; a conquered people, obliged to labour for their

conquerors.

On the banks of the river Oronoque, mothers have been seen to murder their girls out of tenderness, and strangle

them in their birth; which barbarous pity they regard as a duty. Can there be a stronger proof of misery?

If we look amongst the Orientals, we shall find another species of despotism and tyranny: amongst them, confinement, and the domestic servitude of women, is authorized by the manners, and consecrated by the laws. In Turkey, in Persia, in Hindostan, in Japan, and in the vast empire of China, one half of the human species is oppressed by the other. These excesses of oppression take their rise from the excess of love itself: all Asia is covered with domestic prisons, where beauty in slavery attends the caprices of a master.

There, multitudes of women have beauty, senses, and will but for one man. The triumphs of these are momentary; but their rivalships, their hatred, and their fury, perpetual. In these countries, women are obliged to repay even their servitude with the most tender love, or, what is more frightful, with the resemblance of love which they do not feel; and the most humiliating despotism subjects them to the authority of masters incapable of aught approaching sentiment. All their education tends to moral debasement; each virtue is constrained, even their pleasures are melancholy and involuntary; and, after an existence of a few years, their old age is long and frightful.

In more temperate countries, where the climate gives less ardour to desires, and places more confidence in virtue, the women are not deprived of their liberty; but the severity of legislation has every where placed them in a state of dependence.

In one place they are condemned to retirement, and excluded from pleasures as from business; in another, a long tutelage seems to insult their reason. Injured in one climate by polygamy, which gives them their rivals for their constant companions: subjected in another to indissoluble bands, which often join, for ever, sweetness to ferocity, and sensibility to hatred constrained in their desires, constrained in the distribution of their fortunes, the laws deprive them even of their will.

They are, besides, slaves to the public opinion, which exerts its empire over them, and makes a crime even of appearances; encompassed on every side with judges, who are at the same time their seducers, and their tyrants; and who, after having prepared their faults, punish them by dishonour, or usurp the right of defaming them upon suspicion. Such is pretty nearly the fate of women throughout the world.

According to climate and age, man, in regard to the sex, is either indifferent, or an oppressor. It is thus they some

times experience the cold and calm oppression which is inspired by pride, sometimes the violent and terrible oppression prompted by jealousy. When they are not beloved, they are nothing; when they are adored, they are tormented; love or indifference are almost equally their enemies. Upon three quarters of the globe, nature has placed them between contempt and unhappiness.

Even amongst the very people by whom their power was most acknowledged, we find men who have endeavoured to deprive them of every species of glory.

A celebrated Greek has said *, that the woman the most virtuous, is her who is least spoken of. Thus this severe man, whilst he imposed duties, took from them the reward of public esteem; and whilst he exalted virtues, made it a crime to aspire to honour.

If one of the Grecian women had undertaken to defend the cause of her sex, she might have said to him, how great is your injustice! If we have a right to virtues like you, why should we not have a right to praise? "Public esteem" is the property of those who know how to merit it. Our duties, it is true, are different to yours; but when they are fulfilled, they contribute to your felicity and the delights of life. We are wives and mothers; it is we who form the tender ties of kindred. It is we who soften that almost savage rudeness which belongs perhaps to strength, and which every moment might make man the enemy of man. We cultivate in you that sensibility which softens the manners; and our tears remind you that there are unhappy beings.

In fine, you are not ignorant, that, like you, we have need of courage. More weak, we have also more to struggle with. Nature proves us by sorrow, the laws by constraint; and our virtue is tempted by trials. Sometimes, also, our country demands sacrifices of us. When you shed your blood in the service of the state, you ought to know that it is ours. In giving to it our husbands and our sons, we give it more than ourselves; for in the field of battle you can but die, but we have the unhappiness to survive those who are most dear to us. Ah! wherefore, whilst your arrogant vanity is unceasingly employed in covering the earth with statues, mausoleums, and inscriptions, endeavouring, were it possible, to immortalize your names, and to live again when you shall be no more, do you condemn us to remain unknown, and desire oblivion and eternal silence should be our lot?

* Thucydides.