Full many a heart will list the lay, That through the wakeful night has cried, THE NEGRO BOY. (A true Story.**) Ah, where are they whose sympathizing hearts d'erflow Whose thought is love, whose love, an ever kindling flame Of human shame and sorrow? To their list'ning ear, I turn to tell a tale of slav'ry and of fear; A tale, which tho' it raise the son of Mammon's scorn, Will deeply sink in hearts of Britons freely born; In that dark land, where freedom's voice is scarcely known, With not one heart to love him, or one voice to cheer Of light and cheering beams o'er his desponding soul, That chased the gloom, and made the wounded spirit whole: * We insert this on the credit of our unknown correspondent, but hope, for humanity's sake, it is not a true story. His Saviour's worship, and the study of his word But him to whom his most devoted thoughts are giv'n, Whose slightest word's his law, whose faintest smile his heav'n. in tears; The tumult of his spirits; well the suff'rer knows But who shall teach the furious tiger to be tame? He paused, and on his murd'rer cast his languid gaze, Then turned to heav'n his eye, that spoke of love and praise; As trust corrupted guides, must even go astray; Malice, Satanic vice, put forth its utmost power, And silenced baffled conscience in this guilty hour. O'er his pale face there was a radiant smile diffused, M. MADAM, To the Assistant of Education. The reading of your Listener's observations on the uses of musick, brought to my mind a circumstance that occurred to me many years agone, but of which the impression is fresh upon my memory. It happened to me to be present at a large dinner party, to which, for the sake of their musick, a number of professional singers had been invited. Braham was there, and Storace, and Mrs. Dickinson, and many others, whose names I do not remember. I had dined at that table many times before, without hearing any words of acknowledgment to the Deity, or any mention of his name, except in oaths. But now as all was to be musick, a grace was sung. I suppose this may be a common thing at publick festivals, but as these are places ladies do not much frequent, this ་ was the only time I ever heard it. Beautiful beyond description appears to me this burst of sacred harmony, uttered as it was by lips profane, but in such stile as might be expected from the powers of the performers. Of the forty persons present, I perhaps might be the only one who thought of God at all on the occasion: but I did think, and did deeply feel; and though not very seriously disposed at the time, could not easily get rid of the impression, or reconcile myself to the unhallowed conversation that ensued upon this divine commencement. I have often thought since, that if from lips not true, and from hearts not grateful, a mere ceremony could be so impressive; how beautiful it might be, breathed in simplicity by voices tuned to sing the praises of their God. I have thought that were I at the head of an establishment it should be tried. The doors should be shut, the servants should be in waiting, and before the covers were taken off, and when the cloth was removed, a strain of music should be heard, very brief, very simple, and yet solemn, expressive of harmony in the hearts of those assembled to be partakers together of God's bounty, and a pledge that his gifts should not be misused, nor his presence forgotten, nor any unkindly feelings manifested during the time of the repast. In our manner of saying grace before meals in general, it is impossible for a thinking person not to perceive that it is not often what it is meant to be. I do not speak of those parties where no one acknowledges the Giver or the gift. Where no feeling is, one form may be as good as another-perhaps the omission as good as any-for I have heard grace said where it could be little else than a breach of the third commandment. Neither do I speak of those set parties of religious people, in which I have generally heard it said with much reverence and attention. What is in my mind is the blessing usually asked in the domestic circle, where the members of it are really not unmindful of their God. It seems to me it is not so solemn and effectual a ceremony as it might be. Half the party are not assembled when grace is said they come in the middle of it-or they say, or leave unsaid, their solitary benedicite, after the dinner has commenced. Those who are present do not seem to listen-some sit, some stand, some bow hastily with au air of distraction. It may be answered, "What signifies a form? The heart is grateful, and asks a secret blessing on every thing we enjoy. The aspiration of a moment is as good as the prepared utterance of words." This is true-and we have only to carry the argument through, to get rid of every form and manifestation of religion whatever. Rather let me say, it would be true, if man were the saint he is not. But in fact we are forgetful, insensible, and ungrateful, even in our best estate; and with the bounties of God perpetually before us, and his grace in action upon our hearts, we do still need to be reminded by external signs and ceremonies of devotion. They who venture to despise all outward signs and seemings of religion, should know their own hearts well. There may be some who have got beyond the influence of external things, and want no helps to keep their God in mind. I do not know who they are-but I am sure they are not the young, the healthful, and the happy, usually assembled at our domestic tables. MADAM, ON SUNDAY DINNERS. It is at the request of the friend who is the subject of the present sheet, that I trouble you with it-merely remarking, that she hopes you will employ her experience or not, as you think proper. I am, Madam, Your humble Servant, I. |