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his ignorance a little longer. He has had it from his infancy, and must be used to it by this time. Meanwhile, let us make a joint experiment: let us find a person for whom

will clear the path of fortune, and you that of knowledge. When he has attained all they can yield, we will leave him to himself, and draw our conclusions from the operation of the regular influences of human nature and human events upon the object of our respective favour.”

Willingly," said Tir-Aban, “ and I know at Ormus the very person for our project; it is a miserable fishermar.; he is both poor and ignorant, and so weary of his lot, that we have only to lead him on a little, and we shall see him plunge most ardently into the double path we are to open for him."

Ismael was at that moment on the banks of the Persian Gulf; he was occupied in mending his nets. “What!" mournfully exclaimed he, “ am I to pass my whole life in this wretched manner? No food but pastecks, or rice, or half-baked beans. No clothing but a courdi of miserable sackcloth, which leaves the prints of its coarse, hard thread upon my skin. No bed but the cold earth, or mat, which I should think delightful, were it but made of the reeds of the Euphrates, instead of the knotty straw of maize, in braids like rope, which only effaces the impression of my sackcloth courdi to plough yet deeper and more painful furrows. Nay, even to obtain these hard indulgencies, I must launch


terrada in the sea, to seek the sturgeon and the delicate destpich, with which I have these five years supplied the tables of the opulent, without having ever tasted either of them myself. I know not what the great pen above may have writtten down for me on the book of fate ; but I am wretched. The gulph is deep, and it would be only doing myself a kindness to fling the fishes a last bait which they little look for, and end their persecutions and my own together.”

At this moment Mutalhea and her companion appeared before him.

“ Ismael," said the sorceress, “ thy complaints have reached us. Wouldst thou at once be rich and powerfull? The opportunity is offered. The son of the aged Noserat, so noted for his wealth, has just expired suddenly in his bed, and the event is known to none but me. Thy voice and features so thoroughly resemble his, that it is impossible to discern the differ

Follow me; I will direct the removal of the body; thou mayst take his place.”

Ismael was almost out of his wits with surprise and exultation. He jumped up behind the enchantress on the bird Simourg, and was fortb with in the apartment of the deceased. One last instruction remained to he given. The son of Noserat had a slight wink of the eye, which it was easy, but essential, to imitate. Is. mael promised to pay due attention to the peculiarity and his protectress departed, saying she would visit him from time to time in secret. He passed the night in repeating to himself the instructions of Mutaleha, and in winking his eyes to inure himself to the habit.

In the morning, slaves came to attend his toilet. He winked his eyes, and all went on charmingly. They dressed him in a superb robe of zerbafe, surmounted by a courdi of cloth of gold. A girdle of Termay wool, embroidered in pearls, set off his attire still more, and his head was loaded with a magnificent delbend, adorned with turquoises and rubies.

Poor Ismael did not know himself again. He was every moment on the point of betraying himself by his politeness to his slaves. He began almost to feel a respect for himself, and winked his eyes so much, that the master of his wardrobe inquired if he found himself indisposed. He trembled at these words, and was only recovered by the entrance of the governor of the kitchens, who came to take his orders for his first meal. He commanded him to bring him sturgeon and destpich. He was in hopes of seeing part of what he had caught the night before, and was quite delighted at the thought that he was at last to know his old ad. versaries of the gulph otherwise than by sight. They were soon set before him, escorted by a multitude of delicious fruits. He ate of every thing, got the first indigestion he had ever had, and considered himself the most fortunate of men.

He next paid a visit to the barem of his predecessor. The young beauties of Georgia and Circassia made such an impression on him, that, in his extacy, he forgot to wink his eyes; but the congratulations he received on this subject frightened him so much, and so completely occupied his mind, that they entirely withdrew his attention from the caresses of his fair ones, who now began to wonder as much at the change in his susceptibility, as they before did at that in his eyelids.

Old Noserat saw the substitute for his son, and suspected nothing. Ismael passed fifteen days amidst the most splendid enjoyments of luxury and opulence; during which however, his assumed infirmity often put him to harsh trials. At the end of this time, the old man set off upon a journey to court, and left his supposed son to reign absolute in his palace. It was then that Ismael astonished the kingdom of Ormis, by the pomp of his equipages, and the magnificence of his fêtes,

His saloons glittered with gold, and jasper, and porphyry. Their walls decked with translucent marble of Tauris, were inlaid with squares of enamel, and hung with the richest silks, and with velvet embroidered with silver, and with the finest stuffs of Kerman. They were thronged with buffoons, dressed in glittering brocade, and with sprightly, and sylph-like, and fascinating young dancing-girls, the braids of whose long, luxuriant hair ended in bouquets of precious gems, and who executed before him and his chosen friends exquisite dances, varying from the dignified to the burlesque from the austere to the voluptuous. Then came a re. past, served up in gold, comprising every delicacy in fruit, or fish, or game, which the soft climate of Persia can produce. The buffet, which rose in the form of a pyramid, was crowned with numberless flasks of Venetian crystal, cut with points like diamonds, and sparkling with the bright hued wines of Shiraz and Georgia. Perfumed wax-lights, while they reflected numerous lustres upon the prismatic faces of the crystal, drew from them floods of empurpled rays; while their own scent of cinnamon and cloves mingled with the delicious perfumes from the vermillion cassolets suspended from the ceiling

Then a troop of musicians, bearing haut-boys, and futes, and tanıbourines, entered the banqueting-hall, and made it rebound with harmonious airs. Ismael ordered cups of gold, of inestimable workmanship, to be distributed to the guests; and, after they were all intoxi. cated with wine, and bang, and afioun, he made each


a pesent, and the fête terminated with a general mascarri.

Every body was amused but Ismael. He alone took very little part in the entertainment, so occupied was he in regulating the convulsive movements of his eyelids. Dalle-Mutaleha came to him at night. He did not yet venture to complain; but he barely mentioned the inconvenience he suffered from the continual necessity of winking his eyes. She advised him to be patient, and promised to see him again soon.

The days flowed on, and renewed the same pleasures and the same ennui. Old Noserat returned from his journey. Isdael was away on a grand fishing party. The doting father, to give his darling son an agreeable surprise, sought him on the lake of Toranka. He appeared astonished at the youth's skill, and gently reproached him for having taken so much pains to acquire an art which could never be any credit to him. Ismael defended his old trade so warmly, that, in his earnestness, his eyes remained fixed in a steady stare. All of a sudden he thought of this. He at once fancied he saw a thousand swords turned towards him, to punish his imposture. He was seized with such a fright, that he changed colour, stammered, and was silent. Noserat supposing that his silence and embarrassment expressed his submission, availed himself of the opportunity, like a good father, to make him feel that it was more honorable to be surrounded hy the wise and the learned, and to devote himself to study, than to waste his life among libertines, and buffoons, and dancing girls, acquiring no sciences but those of eating and angling.

Our fisherman listened to the old man respectfully, and promised to profit by his advice. In this he foresaw a double advantage. Knowledge is a plant which is easily cultivated in solitude. There he would be quite independent of the looks of the slaves who only seemed to him so many spies set to watch his winking. Besides, from learned men he could be under no apprehension.

They were always too full of their own thoughts to think of his eyes. With astrologers he was equally safe. When their glances were not on the heavens, they were on a takium, and could not trouble his.

His new project almost restored his tranquillity. He put it in execution ; and presently, the Ismael who had sighed so devoutly after the goods of this world, forgot them all in dreaming of the treasures of science and the riches of the mind.

Having one evening retired to his apartment, he took up a manuscript by chance, which opened at these words: A8 many steps as you shall rise upon the ladder of fortune, 80 many will you have to descend. The ladder of knowledge has its support in heaven ; and time, which crumbles the palaces of the wealthy on the heads of their possessors, only adds to the glory of the sage.

“ It is a direct warning from the Prophet!” cried Ismael.

“ Of what use to me is the possession of fragile goods, of vases which break under the hand, of perfumes which evaporate, of wines which intoxicate, of rich dainties which cause indigestion ?

Ab! severe has been my experience! The life of the rich is a continual intoxication: the pleasure passes, the headache remains! Then, to be for ever in a state of ap. prehension ! For ever winking the eyes: No--this is not life. But, to drink of the fountain of knowledge, -- to hear ones name repeated from lip to lip-to secure

the admiration of posterity by noble and lasting works -that, aye that, is the real happiness! When Mos trazem dared to insult the Cojannesir, the rash caliph was hurled from the throne of Bagdad. Wise Alfarsi, prolific Avicenne-Saadi, the nightingale of Iran-Chekat, the eagle of genius-graceful Hasez, sublime Attar! Oh ! that the name of Ismael might pass, like yours, in a blaze of glory to posterity! To secure such a blessing, how willingly would I give half my life!"

“ The offer is accepted,” instantly exclaimed Tir. Ahan, entering at that moment, followed by Mutaleha : Ismael was thunderstruck. " What!” cried the Egyptian sorceress, “ have not my gifts, then, been enough for thee?”“ Alas! that fatal conditionthat everlasting wink of the eye"-"Short-sighted man! thinkest thou that he who foregoes the lot to which he has been destined by Providence, in pursuit of wealth and honours, can attain them without far greater discomforts than any thou hast suffered? But what thou now feelest, thousands have felt before thee. The least restraint poisons the most perfect happiness, as a single pearl misplaced in the dress of a woman, often makes her forget the diamonds with which she is covered.

I now resign thee to my companion, who is alone capable of fulfilling thy present desires. From this moment I take from thee the riches thou hast found so troublesome and useless. I have preserved the body of the son of Noserat : it shall remain in its place, The day of mourning will thus have only been a few months delayed, and the affairs of his father's house will return to their natural course."

“ You are to be the most learned of men," said Tir. Aban.-) !” repeated Ismael in confusion—“I! I who am the most ignorant! I can understand how a poor man can suddenly become rich, but how a blockhead—” “ The rough stone of Badakam, when purified by the rays of the sun, bocomes a ruby,” said the angel. “ Follow me. Science dwells not beneath the gilded roof. You must now be placed in a retreat better suited to the improvement of your condition.” Ismael got up behind him on Borak: and the palace of Noserat, the Persian Gulf, and the kingdom of Ormus, presently disappeared from beneath them.

Wafted with the rapidity of an eagle's flight into Irak-Adjemy, Ismael found himself forthwith close to the city of Teheran, On the banks of a streamlet he saw a little cottage. It was simple, but commodiousunostentatious, but not without elegance. house," said Tir-Aban,“ belongs to thee. Thou wilt here find the most precious of all furniture—books, and mathematical and astronomical instruments. Inceuse and myrrha will no longer burn for thee in golden cassolets; but the elcaya and the mastic tree will afford thee their shade and sweet perfume. Now, receive from me the gift of languages. They are the avenues to the temple of Science. But, before all, if thou wilt enlighten thy reason, learn to doubt. Doubt

the gate of knowledge.

He who doubts of nothing, ex. amines nothing; he who examines nothing discovers nothing; and he who discovers nothing, may, perhaps be a good scholar, but never a true sage.”

The angel then touched Ismael with his hand, reminded him that it was at the expense of one-half of his life that his name was to be made immortal, and, throwing himself on his celestial steed, disappeared.

In a few years, Ismael became famous for his vast

“ This

learning, The most celebrated doctors of Persia confessed themselves incapable of coping with him. His works on medicine, astronomy, theology, mathematics, natural history, poetry, &c. &c. were multiplied so rapidly, and were received so favourably, that the people soon considered him master of the seventy-two sciences necessary to his being proclaimed Monk tehed. This dignified title was decreed to him. It was even enhanced by the added appellation of the " thirdmaster," Aristotle and Alfarabi having always ranked as the two first.

The scientific prodigy of Irak no longer donbted of his immortality, and enjoyed its sweets in advance Princes sought him and repeated his words as they repeat those of the imans or the prophets The people every where threw themselves in his path, to obtain a look from him, or to touch the hem of his robe ; and the greatest sages of Asia traversed the seas to consult him.

In the midst, however, of these universal praises, envy was on the watch, and eager for the opportunity to attack him. It was not long ere it arrived. Continual admiration is an affliction to the multitude. It received with eagerness the most contradictory reports concerning the learned Ismael. He was accused of not being the real author of his works, of having found them in some old and unknown manuscripts. Many questions in them savoured of heresy. He believed in the eternity of matter, and was accused of atheism, al. though every one of his books began with homage to God and to his prophet.

This injustice disgusted the sage. His heart was wounded by it. In his chagrin at some harsh criticisms, he would fajn have been able to extinguish the brilliant lights which he had kindled for this ungrateful people. Almost discouraged, he withdrew to the banks of his streamlet, and left the redress of his wrongs to posterity.

A young girl of Teheran, who, though she had never read his works, was magnanimous enough not to speak ill of them, pleased our philosopher, and he married her. They had children, and his hapipness increased with his family. Living retired, without the least noise or ostentation, he now gave no more attention to study than was necessary to keep up the improvement of his mind, and amuse his leisure.

His children grew and he became their instructor. Cultivating at the same time his books and his garden, and turning knowledge to the use of virtue, he was astonished to find himself more happy than he had been amidst the festivals of Ormus, in the courts of kings, or in the zenith of popular favour.

One day he was suddenly seized with a kind of fainting. His terrified wife and all his children ran to him, with the exception of his eldest son, who was then ab. sent in the city. Whilst they were lavishing their tender attentions on hiin, Ismael perceived that the terrace of his house was suddenly illuminated, and heard the people without, as they passed by, murmer the prayers for the dying. At the very moment, Tir-Aban and Mutaleha appeared. The latter held in hand a flower of gulbad-samour, the fatal plant, which has the power of poisoning the breath that passes over it.

“ Ismael!" said the sorceress, " thou hast made the sacrifice of half thy years to glory. Thy last hour of life is come, and thou art entering immortality. Then,

at the four corners of the couch of Ismael, there apperred the four angels of death, Monkir, Nekir, Mora dad, and Esrael. « Oh, holy Prophet,” cried the phi. losopher, “to die !--to die just as existence was begin. ning to be sweet :—my wife, my children! must I then bid you an eternal adeiu ? Alas ! will the glory of my name console you for my loss? Hold,” exclaimed be to Mutaleha, who was presenting him the gulbad-samour, “oh, hold, one of my children is absent. Mav I not see him ere I die ? Tomorrow_” “Delay is impossible," said Tir-Aban," unless, indeed, thou wilt renounce the future honours of posterity. Do this, and thy death may be deferred three days—no longer !"6. Three days !” said the dying man : “ sacrifice the great name for which I have been sw long toiling for three little days! Weigh three days in the balance ages of glory! But I cannot die without once more be. holding my beloved boy: Heartless, un feeling genius of knowledge, thou hast deceived me like that of for. tune! Take back thy gifts. Let me die unknown, but give me three days more-three days to be enjoyed with my dear family-three days that I may press niy absent son once more to my heart."

“The nobleness of this sentiment disarms us,” said Tir-Aban, “ Ismael, pursue thy course undisturbed in the bosom of study and of nature. Thou hast sacrificed fortune to a trilling restraint. Thou now sacrificest glory to three days of life. Live henceforth for thy family and for happiness, and think no more of obtaining in future ages a delusive triumph, in which the triumpher can take no share.

“Well,” said the Egyptian sorceress, “ which of us has gained the victory in this experiment ?"

“ Both and neither," answered Tir-Aban. Knowledge and fortune are both good for those who know how to make a good use of them; but excess spoils every thing: The base passions of man intrude upon his prosperity', and turn it to poison. He only treats wealth as the means of satisfying his fancies, and his eagerness for momentary gratifications. He does not make it the accomplisher of his highest and noblest impulses. Of science he is equally unworthy. He only employs it to feed his vanity. The example of the fisherman (f Ormus ought to teach us to prize beyond riches an! honours"

“ Tranquility,” interrupted Mutaleha, “ And virtue," added the angel.


Ye field flowers ! the gardens eclipse ye, 'tis true,
Yet, wildlings of nature, I doat upon you,

For ye waft me to stumers of old,
When the earth teemed aronnd me with fairy deliglit,
And when daisies and buttercups gladden'd my sight,

Like the treasures of silver and gold. I love you, for lulling me back into dreams Of the blue highland mountains and echoing streams,

And of broken glades breathing their balm;
While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote,
And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeons's aule,

Made music that sweetened the calm.
Not a pastoral sound has a pleasanter tine,
Than ye speak to my beart, little wildlings of June-

of old ruinous castles ye tell; Where I thought it delightful, your beanties to find, When the magic of nature first breath'd on my mind,

And your blossoms were part of her spell.

E'en now what affections the violet awakes;
What loved little islands, twice seen in their lakes,

Can the wild water lily restore ?
What landscapes I read in the primroses' looks,
And what pictures of pebbled and minnowy brooks,

Io the vetches that tangle their shore. Earth's cultureless buds, to my heart ye were dear, Ere the fever of passion, or agnie of fear

Had scathed my existence's bloom; Once I welcoine you more, in life's passionless stage, With the visions of youth to revisit my age, And I wish you to grow on my tomb.




The farther we look back into the past, the more apparent to the eye of the observer is the inequality which exists in the division of moral and material, advantages between the two sexes. We shall endeavour to prove this fact, and also to explain its causes. The less progress society has made in civilization, the less are men enabled to make up for their want of strength by artificial means; and, consequently, the more indispensable becomes the development of their physical faculties for the attainment of those things which are necessary to life. In the absence of laws and associations amongst men, an individual is exposed to continual dangers; he must defend his prey or his field against his equals, and against ferocious animals, the still more formidable rivals of isolated man. In such a state of thinge, the female, less advantageously endowed by nature as regards physical powers, cannot eoter a list in which strength alone insures triumph. She becomes a mother, and her cares are doubled, precisely when her own existence, as well as that of her children, depends on her repose and release from labour. Every thing obliges her, then, where the law of the strongest is alone legitimate, to seek the support of the most powerful sex; but the contract of association between the two parties is that of a master with a slave; the female, in exchange for the protection which is afforded her, submits to the conditions of an absolute depend

Some portion of these barbarous manners still exists among those classes of society devoted to physical labours ; the employment of strength being the only means of obtaining subsistence, it is the only quality which is held in consideration, and women are generally treated with contempt and severity.

In early stages of society, woman is naturally the soonest reduced to slavery: she is the property of man, who sometimes employs her in the meanest labours, sometimes offers her from politeness to strangers, and sometimes even makes a traffic of her. Amongst these barbarians, combats between the different tribes are of daily occurrence ; and in Greek and Roman antiquity, we also see nations organised entirely for war ; military courage is therefore held in the highest estimation. It is, in these ages of violence, the most useful of all virtues, and women consequently are objects of contempt. Plato questions the fact of woman being a human creature, and yet, by a singular contradiction, he assigns her an important part in his republic. Others make her an inferior being, and even interdict her from entering their temples. Euripides calls her the most pernicious of all creatures. Cato

says, that if the No. XLIX. VOL. V.

world was without women, men would hold converse with the gods.

In one country a female addresses her husband on her knees ; in another she is forbidden to enter her house by the same door ; amongst some nations, she may not eat at the same table, or sit in his presence; and amongst others, the son is even authorised to raise his hand against his mother. One Roman legislator grants to husbands the right of life and death over their wives ; and another condemns the soldier who shall desert his standard, to be led through the public streets in the garb of a female.

From the right of property which man holds over woman, he has been easily led, in countries where the climate invites him to luxury and voluptuousness, to keep as many females as his means admit of. Love, as a moral passion, can only exist between beings who feel themselves equals, and of the same nature ; it is physical love only which reigns among the poets of antiquity and the Orientals.

Christianity, with its doctrine of equality, opened a new era for women. The chivalric manners of the middle ages made their destiny a brilliant one ; their cause was often preferred to that of the country ; they presided over tournaments and courts of love. Nevertheless, we must not be too much deluded with regard to this age of galantry and devotion to the fair sex : it was a time, also, in which jealousy and all the most violent passions frequently tyrannized over them. Besides, all women were not princesses and the inhabitants of castles ; neither were all men barons and knights. The romances of chivalry say nothing of the fate of the poor vassals, the companions, or rather the slaves, of the serfs, dependent, like them, on the pleasure of their lord. It is in feudal institutions that we can most justly appreciate the sum of moral and material adyantages which belonged to them. War was still the principal element of society in the middle ages ; strength and bravery were still, therefore, the most useful and the most highly esteemed virtues ; and women, consequently, notwithstanding the tribute of homage offered to their beauty, could only have held a secondary place in society.

The successive progress of the arts has rendered a great development of physical faculties less and less indispensable ; intellectual ones have taken the precedence, and women, being able to enter the lists in this more peaceful competition, bave from that period occupied the rank which belongs to them in society. Let me be permitted here to make a comparison : a child is ignorant of the cares and attention due to weaknessdoes he feel his superiority over a younger sister? He abuses it, and ill treats her without mercy.

Arrived at the age of passion, a female becomes his idol-he pays her a kind of devotion ; but the very ardour of his love is to her the source of infinite uneasi. ness and distress.

It is only when years have ripened the judgment of childhood, and calmed the transports of youth-it is then only, that, in a being of the other sex, man finds an amiable and sensible companion, whom he esteems and cherishes without passion, and who shares his griefs as well as his pleasures.

In this we see a picture of the fate of women in the different stages of society. Bearing, at first, the misery of their weakness ; afterwards idolized in an age of en



thusiasm, but far from enjoying an unalloyed happi. selves of it. For the present, let it suffice us to prore, ness; and, lastly, by the progress of reason, placed in that, in spite of the ameliorations successively effected that sphere which belongs to them that of an equality in the condition of women by the progress of knowfounded, on one side, on the protection of force ; on ledge, they are still far from performing that part in the other, on gentle and kind attentions.

society which belongs to them, since they have no share Have we reached this ripe age of civilization ? We in the establishments of the institutions by which they can, at least, foresee it. The more moral ideas assume are governed-since the nature of all public functions an empire over material strength, the more will the lot is such, that men alone can fill them, these functions of women be ameliorated; and this amelioration na. having been made only for them ;-this is a remnant of turally begins in those classes which are not compelled the ancient basis of organization, the preponderance to physical labours. As to the others, it appears that of strength. for them the age of iron and the reign of power has Must we, in concluding, anticipate one objection? not yet ceased.

It will be said that a public life frequently demands Our institutions preserve, as regards females, the complete renouncement of all family ties, a renouncestamp of ancient doctrines—of those even which pre- ment, painful to the firmest and most masculine characceded Christianity. Expressions such as the following ters, and of which a female would be totally incapable. one, in right of husband, sufficiently attest this fact. This firmness, this civil courage, since that is the name The French Revolution itself even did not place fe- generally applied to it, can only display itself in resismales in their proper situation ; there is, in fact, in our tance to a social order, which is at variance with the social organization, none assigned to them. The appli- interests of families, that is to say, in the times of recation of the system of unlimited competition, com- volution. But such events are happily only transient. bined with the imperfect education which they receive, Political institutions, re-organised, are so constituted as tends to perpetuate their precarious condition. Left to to be firm, and adapted to the happiness of individuals. themselves, they find they are unable to struggle From that moment the interests of the state, and the against the other sex ; misery awaits them, and fre- interests of families become identified ; these deplorable quently one only resource is left them-prostitution, troubles cease ; and domestic affections become the duty The inevitable state of dependence in which their in. of every good citizen. It is easy to conceive that, in feriority retains them, the scorn which attaches itself to such a state of things, that is to say, in the natural the victims of seduction, without pursuing the seducer, situation of society, that women, prepared by a careful all contribute to precipitate them into the abyss. The education, might with advantage, and that they no laws framed for the protection of weakness, are not doubt will, at some future period, fill public functions directed towards the preservation of innocence against analogous to the peculiar capacities of their sex. the snares of the rich libertine ; and education, still more powerful than laws, tends as little to this end. A young man on his entrance into the world learns

COMFORT. that his part is to attack-the female's to defend herself; so much the worse for her if she falls : it is a triumph which gives glory to her conqueror. It seems that

From Körner. man, not content with treating women as inferiors, as

Now, while we here united stand regards social privileges, desires also to retain them in

With uncorrnpted hearts, an intellectual minority, instead of hastening that state

This sacred hour of festival of moral perfection in them, which would so powerfully

Fresh fortitude imparts ;

It onward sweeps the notes of song, contribute to his own happiness. Accustomed as we are

Wakes the harp's sounding thrill, to esteem as frivolous every thing which regards fe

Heroic thought graves on the soul, males, the instruction which is given to them amongst

And fires the general will. us bears the character of this frivolity. Far be from

The time is bad, the world is poor, me the thought of wishing the two sexes to be brought

The best are swept away, up in the same manner. Their future destinies are dif.

The earth is bilt a wideu'd grave

Of truth and liberty ! ferent; they ought, therefore, to be differently prepared

Yet, courage ! though the despot's foot for them. But why should not the same care and at

Has strode o'er German fields, tention be bestowed on each ? It is equally noble, and

Is there not many a silent heart equally useful, in the present state of our manners, to

The faithful blossom yields ? be a good mother, as to be a courageous soldier. The

Timid before the sound of blood, cultivation of sentiments is as important as that of

And the black frowo of war, understanding; and if it is true, as every thing seems

Back in the soul's last deep recess, to prove, that the superiority is decidedly on the

The arts have fed afar;

Orphan'd are now the peaceful vales side of woman, as regards the faculties of the soul, as

Where slone their holy fanes, it is on that of man, as regards those of the mind, why

Yet to them, in each pati iot heart, should not this portion of public education be confided

An altar still remains. to her ? This is not the place in which to examine

Friendship, and faith, and truth, are left, wbat will in future be the influence of woman—what

High joys and duties still; place she will occupy in a social organization more con

Then let oppression's torrent swell, formable to the wants of the human mind—and what

We'll brave its mightiest ill ! division of labour will be assigned to her. The occa

Spread it before us wide as space,

And pile it to the sky, sion will present itself for the examination of this in

By heaven our faith we'll firmly keep, teresting question, and we shall not fail to avail our

And for our duties die !


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