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Society her sense, reading her books,

Music her voice, every sweet thing her looks,
Which sometimes seemed, when he sat fixed awhile,
To steal beneath his eyes with upward smile:

And did he stroll into some lonely place,

Under the trees, upon the thick soft

grass,

How charming, would he think, to see her here!" pp. 57,58.

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But she, the gentler frame, the shaken flower,
Plucked up to wither in a foreign bower,-
The struggling, virtue loving, fallen she,
The wife that was, the mother that might be,
What could she do, unable thus to keep
Her strength alive, but sit and think, and weep,
For ever stooping o'er her broidery frame,
Half blind, and longing till the night-time came,
When worn and wearied out with the day's sorrow,
She might be still and senseless till the morrow.

And oh, the morrow how it used to rise!

How would she open her despairing eyes,
And from the sense of the long lingering day,
Rushing upon her, almost turn away,
Loathing the light, and groan to sleep again!
Then sighing once for all, to meet the pain,
She would get up in haste, and try to pass
The time in patience, wretched as it was;
Till patience self, in her distempered sight,
Would seem a charm to which she had no right,
And trembling at the lip, and pale with fears,
She shook her head, and burst into fresh tears.
Old comforts now were not at her command:
The falcon reached in vain from off his stand;
The flowers were not refreshed; the very light,
The sunshine, seemed as if it shone at night;
The least noise smote her like a sudden wound;
And did she hear but the remotest sound
Of song or instrument about the place,

She hid with both her hands her streaming face.
But worse to her than all (and oh! thought she,
That ever, ever such a worse could be!)

The sight of infant was, or child at play;

Then would she turn, and move her lips, and pray,
That heaven would take her, if it pleased, away. pp. 87-89.

Her death must close our extracts.

Her favorite lady then with the old nurse

Returned, and fearing she must now be worse,
Gently withdrew the curtains, and looked in :-
O, who that feels one godlike spark within,
Shall say that earthly suffering cancels nos frail sin !

There lay she praying, upwardly intent,
Like a fair statue on a monument,

With her two trembling hands together prest,
Palm against palm, and pointing from her breast.
She ceased, and turning slowly towards the wall,
They saw her tremble sharply, feet and all,--
Then suddenly be still. Near and more near
They bent with pale inquiry and close ear:—
Her eyes were shut-no motion-not a breath—

The gentle sufferer was at peace in death.' pp. 104, 105. The tenderness, the exquisite pathos of these passages, notwithstanding the affectation of quaintness which occasionally deforms our Author's manner, cannot fail, we think, to touch the heart of the most careless reader, and to awaken emotions very different from those which we described in our last number, to be excited by the perusal of Lord Byron's Parisina. It is impossible for us, however, to close this article, without adverting to the flippant and infidel remark which disfigures the last of the above extracts. Whether Mr. Hunt disbelieves in the authority of Revelation, or is only ignorant of its doctrines, we know not; but on either supposition, this empty sneer at the doctrine of the atonement, is discreditable to his understanding, and does not argue well of his principles. Mr. Hunt's talents might procure him the unqualified thanks of the public.

Art. IX. 1. The Present of a Mistress to a Young Servant: consisting of Friendly Advier and Real Histories. By Mrs Taylor, of Ongar. Author of Maternal Solicitude," &c. fcap 8vo. pp. 168. Price 38. 6d. Taylor and Hessey, 1815.

2. Friendly Hints to Female Servants. By Henry George Watkins, A. M. Rector of St. Swithin, London Stone. 18me. 18me. Price 40. sewed. Hatchard.

3. Hints and Observations seriously addressed to Heads of Families, in reference, chiefly, to Female Domestic Servants. (By the same Author) 12mo. pp. 100. Price 2s. 6d. Hamilton, 1816. 4. Second Report of the London Society for the Improvement and Encouragement of Female Servants, Instituted 1813. Price 6d. 1816. No part of the population has been so generally overlooked,

in schemes for the melioration of society, as Female Do mestie Servants. As a class, either they have been deemed too unimportant to engage specific attention, or their importance has not been recognised; while their very situation has pre sented peculiar obstacles to any general plan for their moral benefit. So long as they retain the station of actual servitude, they are placed above immediate want, and almost out of the reach of benevolent interference; and it is not till they descend from that station, through age or misfortune, and merge again in

the lower classes of society, that they individually present themselves as objects of benevolence.

If, however, during the time of their retaining the character of servants, they are exempted from the pressure of want, and other evils to which the lower classes are exposed, their liability to be thrown out of that situation by accident or by illness, their dependent condition, and the dreary prospect which for the most part the decline of life presents to those who have scarcely any opportunity for making provision for the future, might seem to render them, in many respects, claimants upon public philanthropy. There are, it is true, many excellent establishments, in which meritorious individuals of this description obtain a peaceful asylum; but these can by no means be considered as meeting the wants of the class. The admirable plan of Savings and Provident Banks, which are intended to form the subject of an article in an early Number, is wisely calculated to benefit this description of persons, in common with others in the lower classes of society. But the most efficient way of reaching the pecuniary wants, and of benefiting the temporal interests of any class in the community, is, by operating on their moral character, and making them the agents in the improvement of their own condition.

It is with respect to their moral condition, that female servants become so prominently objects for compassionate regard; and that the neglect with which they have hitherto been treated, is so deeply to be deplored, from its fatal consequences on the individuals themselves, and on society in general. As to themselves, they are more than any other class in the humbler ranks, removed from the opportunities of moral and religious instruction, while their situation exposes them to peculiar temptations. Many of them enter upon a state of servitude, before they have had time to undergo any educational process; their minds remaining uncultured, and their principles unformed. They are then placed in a situation that combines, in some respects, the evils of luxury and those of slavery: they are without the discipline of want, and the stimulus of freedom. Corrupt example in the person of their superiors, is exhibited to them under an aspect which makes it next to impossible to escape from its contagion. And the leisure afforded by many situations for the indulgence of a vitiated imagination, and the incentives which arise from a state of comparative ease, conspire in hundreds of instances to lead the miserable victim of her passions to become, and this while still retaining the situation of a domestic, the seducer and the destroyer of others.

As to religious advantages, how small a proportion, even of those who have any disposition to avail themselves of them, have had cause to

smile when a sabbath appeared!'

The nursery maid, the housemaid, or the cook,--whatever, in fact, be the official situation of the female servant,--is not less in requisition on the day of rest, than on any other day. The probability is, that her services are more called for then than usual. Even in religious families, it is to be apprehended that there exists a considerable, a shameful degree of inattention in this particular; and there are thousands of well-disposed females, who would feel a disinclination from various motives, to scrutinize, if they had opportunity, the religious character of the family in which they engage themselves. Of the welldisposed, those who have imbibed in the cottage or in the Sunday school, some notions of religion, sufficient at least to awaken a general sense of duty, how few can be expected to persevere in seeking for means of religious improvement, when debarred by inconvenience, ridicule, or example!

When all these circumstances are weighed, it needs not be a matter of so much surprise, that the character of servants has for the most part justified their being placed as the climax of the miseries of human life; that they have been condemned as a body, as being improvident, ungrateful, dishonest, and dissolute; that they exhibit the traces of that feudal degradation in which they are held. Yet it is to this class, between whom and their masters and mistresses, there seem to prevail a natural animosity, and an essential separation of interests, it is to persons of this class, that some of the most important duties are consigned, and that means of almost illimitable influence on society, are heedlessly confided. Not only is the future health of the man often staked on the prudence or fidelity of the infant's attendant, but he receives the first rudiments of his intellectual education from the same source: he is very frequently left to imbibe his first moral notions from the maid-servant; and when school has initiated him into some of the mysteries of manliness, the discretion of a female servant is not unfrequently called for, under new circumstances of trial. It is unnecessary to point out the numerous ways in which the peace and welfare of families are made to depend, in an essential degree, on the moral character of female domestics; and yet it is as obvious, that no subject appears to have excited so little serious attention.

We trust that these observations, trite as they may be thought, will have the effect of giving force to our recommendation of the excellent little works at the head of this Article; and that they will lead our readers to appreciate the value of every meritorious exertion to instruct the minds, or benefit the moral condition, of this neglected class of the community. Many admirable little works have indeed been published by different

writers, as materials for the Kitchen Library; in which the Cheap Repository Tracts of Mrs. More deserve to hold a distinguished place, by the side of the Pilgrim's Progress, and Doddridge's Rise and Progress. The Rev. Mr. Cecil's Friendly Advice to Servants, has been distributed with extensive benefit. The present publications, however, are of a nature that claim particular attention.

Mis. Taylor of Ongar, as the "Author of Maternal Solici "tude," and "Hints to Young Females," has already received the meed of our warm approbation for her judicious and affectionate method of conveying simple practical truth. The present work is of the same character; it puts forth the same modest pretensions; and is not less adapted to be importantly beneficial to the class for which it is designed The real his'tories' with which this little volume is enlivened, are, with one exception which we shall notice, well-told, pertinent, and sometimes touching pieces of humble biography. We shall extract the following as a specimen of the Work.

There was a little building in the yard, which was furnished with abed. a table, and a chair; and here, because he took up too much room at the parlour fire, James Marshall placed his father! The chimney smoked, the room was damp, and the walls were mouldy: for neither the father, nor the son, of ny human being, had lived there for many a year. His food generally consisted of the cold scraps, that had been left the preceding day. Of a hot joint he never partook, and there were continual remarks made upon the amazing quantity he devoured.

He soon became so very lame, from the rheumatism, as to be unable to walk to his bed; and an unfeeling apprentice used to assisthim, by running him across the room, and throwing him down violently, leaving him to cover himself as he could. He had enjoyed a warm house, a comfortable fire-side, a soft bed, and nourishing food, at a time when he could have endured hardships much better than at present.

In this way he spent his lonely hours, never hearing his son's, or daughter in-law's voices, but to chide him. He could hear the children playing about the yard; and they would sometimes put their heads in at the door, to abuse and torment him, in imitation of their parents.

"He had a grand-daughter, the child of another son, long since dead. Her visits were always rendered miserable by the forlorn situation of her grandfather. She had no relish for their good din mers, while she knew that he was dining upon cold scraps in an outhouse. She could not notice him as she wished to have done, from fear of offending her uncle; though she sometimes stole in, and consoled him in the best manner she was able. She might have been Been once, standing with her arm around his neck, while his aged bead lay on her bosom; he looked up in her face, with an expression of silent sorrow, her tears fell, and mingling with his, rolled down his

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