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THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

PRESENTED BY

PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND
MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID



THE MIRROR OF LIFE,




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THE



MIRROR OF LITE,



EDITED BY



MKS. L. C. TUTHILL.



"Trust no future, howe er pleasant ;
Let the dead past "bury its dead
Act act in the living present,
Heart -within, and God o erhead."

LONGFELLOW.



PHILADELPHIA:
LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON.



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847,
BY LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON,

In the Clerk s Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of
Pennsylvania.



C. SHERMAN, PRINTER,
19 St. James Street.



PREFACE.



INTENDED as this volume is, to present to the view of its
readers the various stages of life s progress, from the first
dawnings of infancy to old age, no more appropriate title
could be selected than " The Mirror of Life" to indicate its
contents. The matter is all original, and from the pens of
favourite Authors of our own country. The plates are from
pictures or designs by American Artists, never before en-
graveo^^ymvith one exception, were prepared expressly for
this \\^r^^Presenting thus an array of talent, in the letter
press and the embellishments, rarely to be met, the publishers
trust that the public will find this purely American book well
deserving of patronage.



ILLUSTRATIONS,



ENGRAVED BY



JOHN SARTAIN, PHILADELPHIA,



BOYHOOD OSGOOD Frontispiece.

INFANCY SCHMITZ Vignette Title.

CHILDHOOD EICHHOLTZ 31

GIRLHOOD ROSSITER 55

MAIDENHOOD ROTHERMEL 87

THE BRIDE ROSSITER 119

THE MOTHER ROSSITER 145

THE WIDOW ROSSITER 165

MANHOOD ROTHERMEL 185

OLD AGE ROTHERMEL 236

THE SHROUDED MIRROR REV. DR. MORTON 240



CONTENTS.



THE MIRROR OF LIFE 13

THE INFANT AND THE

SUNBEAM REV. G. W. BETHUNE, D. D 15

THE CHILDREN OF THE

POOR REV. CLEMENT M. BUTLER 17

LE PETIT SOURD-MUET..MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY 23

THE PETITION MRS. L. C. TUTHILL 26

GOOD NIGHT ANONYMOUS 29

CHILDHOOD MISS CAROLINE E. ROBERTS 30

BOYHOOD MRS. FRANCES S. OSGOOD 34

MY SCHOLARS BUSHROD BARTLETT, ESQ 36

DREAMLAND MELODY ....WILLIAM S. HARTWELL 51

BESSIE NEWTON ALICE G. LEE 55

THE FROZEN STAR ARIA.. . 57



X CONTENTS.

COLLEGE HONOURS THE EDITOR 58

THE INSANE GIRL FANNIE OF FARLEIGH 81

THE WHITE HAND ANONYMOUS 86

THE WIDOWER S DAUGH
TER MRS. L. C. TUTHILL 87

THE ORPHAN HOPE HESSELTINE 108

A FEMALE PURSUIT IN

ANCIENT TIMES REV. GEORGE E. ELLIS 113

HYMN OF THE BLIND

GIRL ANONYMOUS 118

THE BRIDE W 119

THE LATHROPS REV. H. HASTINGS WELD 122

THE INSPIRATION MRS. SARAH J. HALE 146

THE MOTHER S DREAM. .MRS. L. C. TUTHILL 148

THE DISMAL YEAR H 153

EARLY INFLUENCE MISS ANNE W. MAYLIN 157

WIDOWHOOD MISS CATHARINE M. SEDGWICK.165

MANHOOD REV. M. A. DE WOLFE HOWE 178

HUMAN POWER THOMAS BUCHANAN READ 185

SCENE IN A STUDIO AUTHOR OF "WREATHS AND

BRANCHES" 187

THE MERIDIAN OF LIFE.. REV. WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D.D.191

THE ANCIENT MAIDEN.. .ARIA 198

THE MOTHER S GRAVE. ..MRS. E. F. ELLETT 201

A STRONG MAN NEVER
CHANGES HIS MENTAL

CHARACTERISTICS J. T. HEADLEY 205

THE CHILDLESS WIDOW. .ELIZABETH 214

THE AGED PENITENT ....S. S. T 217



CONTENTS. xi

HAPPINESS IN A HOVEL. .N 219

THE GREAT ENIGMA REV. JOHN WILLIAMS 222

RETROSPECTION O. E. D 226

OLD AGE THE EDITOR 236

" THERE REMAINETH A REST TO THE PEOPLE OF GOD.". 240



THE MIRKOK OF LIFE.



" Now, \ve see through a glass, darkly ; then, face to face."

1 COR. xiii. 12.

I.

FROM Mercy unending

A light is descending,
Which falls on the Mirror of Life,

To aid us in seeing

The end of our being,
Mid changes, and sorrow, and strife.

II.

The spirit undying,

While childhood is flying,
The joys of the moment engage ;

A bird, it is singing,

Contentedly swinging,
Unconscious as yet of its cage.



]4 THE MIRROR OF LIFE.

III.

While manhood is fleeting,
Impatient tis beating,

The strength of its prison to prove ;
In age it is waiting,
Till slowly the grating

The hand of decay shall remove.

IV.

When poverty, scorning,
And sickness, and mourning,

In darkness the spirit enshroud,
The heavenly lightning
The shadow is brightening,

And purity follows the cloud.

V.

Temptations receiving,
And conquests achieving,

Its virtue is strengthened each hour,
Till victory gaining,
And glory obtaining,

It triumphs in perfected power.



THE INFANT AND THE SUNBEAM.

BY THE REV. G. W. BETHUNE, D.D.
" Of such is the kingdom of Heaven."

I.

I HEARD a gentle murmuring,

Twixt laughter and a tune,
Or like a full brook gurgling

Through the long grass in June.

II.

I traced the sound an infant lay

There in his cradle bed,
And through the curtains shone a ray

Of sunshine on his head ;

III.

It flashed from off each golden tress,

Like the glory painters see,
Round young John in the wilderness,

Or Christ on Mary s knee.



16 THE INFANT AND THE SUNBEAM.

IV.

The child put up his little hand,

He waved it to and fro,
And words, I could not understand,

Seem d from his lips to flow ;

V.

Words in which joy and love would blend,
As though he thought the while,

The light to be a pleasant friend,
A friend with a pleasant smile.

VI.

Thus, till the sunny ray grew dim,
As it passed the window-pane,

He murmured on his happy hymn,
Then fell asleep again.

VII.

O God, I thought, that I could be
Like that meek, little child,

To greet thy Truth which shines on me,
With brow as undefiled.

VIII.

And then with lips as innocent,
And heart as free from guile,

Sing of thy love in glad content,
Look up, and see Thee smile.



THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR.



BY THE REV. CLEMENT M. BUTLER.



THERE is no class of our fellow-beings that ought to awaken
a deeper interest in our hearts, than the children of the poor.

Is there anything so touchingly helpless as a poor child de
prived by crime or misfortune or death of its natural pro
tector ? It seems as it stands, sad, frightened, and wondering
in its helplessness, to ask, " What am I sent here for?"

The young of animals soon learn by instinct to find their food
spread upon nature s table. But a parent s care is to the child
in the place of instinct, and a parent s hand the source of its
supply. When through poverty or crime or death, a child is
deprived of such guardianship, what is so pitiful, what so help
less ? What can it do but stand up in its rags and say, in the
inarticulate but expressive eloquence of tears, " Here I am,
God s creature, left alone to perish. Will any man take me
that I die not ?" And if none come, what can the poor child
do but lay its head upon its dead mother s breast, and wail
itself into the sleep which has no waking ?

Sad as their case is, yet in the present disjointed state of
things, they subserve a high moral purpose. We owe much
to the children of the poor. They keep soft and tender the
hearts of humanity. They are sent into the world poor and
suffering, not that they may remain so, but that they may be
released by the prosperous and happy, and thus impart a bless-

2*



18 THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR.

ing as large as they receive. What would a human heart be
which never had its sympathy awakened ! What an unlovely
thing would that heart be which had never felt another s pain !
Without pity, the hearts of all would stiffen into cold and rigid
selfishness. It is pity which

" Softens human rock- work into men."

Mercy could not live in the human heart without an object.
Suffering has furnished occasion for the most glorious mani
festations of God, and given birth to, and strengthened, the
holiest sympathies of man. Instead of fruitlessly endeavouring
to form anew a world whence suffering shall be excluded, let
us rather endeavour to evolve the designed blessing out of the
permitted evil. Well does the wise and eloquent proverbialist
declare :

" Sin is an awful shadow, but it addeth new glories to the light ;
Sin is a black foil, but it setteth off the jewelry of heaven ;
Sin is the traitor which hath dragged the majesty of mercy into action."

Let us remember, then, the children of the poor have their
mission to the world, and as they come to us, let not their
heavenly message be all unheeded and unheard. As we think
of them with reference to the duty which we owe to them, let
us not forget that they are entrusted with a divine blessing, to
be imparted in return to us.

What is that little neglected thing that is playing on the
floor, while its mother toils with sinking heart for bare bread ;
while the father is off on riot, or comes home only to rob those
for whom he should provide ? What is it ? What will it be
if left there and thus ? What might it be if taken elsewhere
and placed under other influences? It is a jewel of more
worth than the world upon which it lives. It is an immortal



THECHILDREN OFTHEPOOR. jg

endowed with eternal capabilities. It is capable of purity and
advancement under right environment; but it has an inner
aptitude to evil which outer occasions call forth and strengthen.
Yet even with this aptitude to sin, if from the earliest years it
be the object of constant kindness to call forth its affections ;
if it be subjected to discipline and self-control ; if it be early
taught filial fear, reverence and love of God; if it be instructed
in God s word and will; if it allow the spirit of God to work
penitence towards God and faith in Jesus ; if it have before it
constraining and winning examples of holiness ; and if it be
under the descending dews of promised grace given in answer
to believing prayer; then shall the soul of that little one which,
neglected, might have become a burning brand in the world of
wo, be a glad and eternal light in its father s home in heaven.
For the soul of that child, open to evil, is not inaccessible to
good.

Childhood has tender conscience, teachableness of spirit,
grateful feeling. Recently from the Creator s hand, his im
press upon it seems less effaced than it does on elder hearts.
Heaven, which has been said to lie about us in our infancy,
has left some of its odour and its radiance lingering about
childhood s heart. I know not why it is, but all of us have at
times felt in the presence of amiable and docile children as if
a sweet sacredness invested them ; as if they had just taken
their little heads from the breast of Jesus, when he took them
in his arms and blessed them. And when we feel this charm
of childhood in the case of those who are destitute and forlorn,
it is just that attraction towards them which we should obey,
that according to the design of the blessed Saviour of the
world, " we may do them good."

We would that we might cast on " the Mirror of Life" such



20 THECHILDRENOFTHEPOOR.

a faithful and distinct picture of the children of the poor, that
some readers would be touched with the spectacle, and con
secrate their love and their activities to their welfare. It is
among the most blessed if it be humble of all methods of
doing good. One of its richest rewards is the luxury of the
act itself. If you wish to see a person thoroughly happy, go
and look on him who is making children happy.

It has been said, that if a man has no pleasure in children, and
children none in him if his face never brightens when he sees
them, and his voice does not soften into the tones of affection
when he speaks to them, that there is something wrong about
him, and that he is not to be relied upon for anything good and
disinterested. However that may be, it w r ill be confessed that he
who cordially loves little children, is made a happier and better
man by converse with them. Often, indeed, when we see little
children win to them and make to labour for their amusement,
alike the amiable and the harsh, the strong-minded and the
weak, we seem to have the prophecy fulfilled : " The wolf
also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down
with the kid and the calf, and the young lion and the fatling
together, and a little child shall lead them."

All persons of kindly feelings love to give even momentary
pleasure to a child. But to entitle ourselves to their .lasting gra
titude to be the subject of their daily grateful remembrances
and of their prayers to be conscious that we have been the
honoured instruments of saving them from many sins and sor
rows, there are few pleasures so elevated so sweet as this !

Reader, to whom the bounty of Providence gave a happy
childhood, and who art now surrounded by the comforts and
blessings of a happy home, remember the children of the
poor ! Take the hungry, timid, weeping little one by the



THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR. gl

hand. Provide for it, if you can, a comfortable home. The
crushed and down-pressed heart of childhood will rise and
expand again into life, as the flower beaten down by the
storm lifts its bright head again smilingly in the sunshine, and
thank you with its sweets.

Do you know much, you, who peruse these pages, do
you know much of the poor ? I do not ask if you know of
them as they are depicted in the gilded annual or the illustrated
tale which lies upon your centre-table ? I mean the real poor
those who live in that narrow lane and that neglected hovel,
which you must soil your shoe to reach, where you will find
squalor, dirt, and the dissonance of children in short, deep
poverty, \vith all its real and revolting accompaniments.

In one of those damp and dismal holes, which it is a trial for
you even to enter, sits a father, cursing the day that he was
born, murmuring at the unequal allotments of Providence, im
precating vengeance for the wrongs of the powerful, the
wealthy, and the cruel! His spirit is fierce and vindictive, and
his inner pollution is more frightful than his outward squalor.
When he was a poor child, he might have been taken by the
hand and trained up to a life of usefulness and happiness.

There is another, who has struggled bravely against the
waves of poverty, but sickness has unnerved his arm, and he is
borne down; he is endeavouring to silence in his heart the com
plainings of discontent and the denunciations of bitterness, and
to lift to the Chastener an eye of gratitude and submission,
though it be suffused with tears.

There again is the mother, who, pausing from the toil that
has killed her, to die, fixes her eye on her wondering and
weeping little one, and, as she consigns it to God,

" Gives the sad presage of its future years,
The child of misery, baptized with teajrs."



22 THE CHILDREN OFTHE POOR.

And again, in the silence of the night, a voice of complain
ing children is heard, waking to weep, crying from cold or
hunger, or moaning in their sleep living over again in dreams
the sad life of their waking hours. It is an awful thing, that
such things should be in the midst of those who have bread
enough and to spare !

Reader ! repay to the children of the poor something for the
happiness which they have imparted to you. Remember, that
when God maketh inquisition for blood, he remembereth them.
And remember also that the Saviour will say, at the last great
day, to those who have loved and blessed his poor, " Inasmuch
as ye have done it unto the least of these, my brethren, ye
have done it unto me !"



LE PETIT SOURD-MUET.

BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.
I.

CHILD of the speaking eye,
Child of the voiceless tongue,

Around whose unresponsive ear
No harp of earth is rung,

II.

There s one, whose nursing care
Relax d not, night or day,

Yet ne er hath heard thy lisping word
Her tenderness repay,

III.

Though anxiously she strove
Each uncouth tone to frame,

Still vainly listening through her tears,
To catch a Mother s name.



24 LE PETIT SOUR D-MUET.

IV.

Child of the fetter d ear,

Whose hermit mind must dwell

Mid all the harmonies of earth,
Lone, in its silent cell,

V.

Fair, budding thoughts are thine,
With sweet affection s wave,

And whispering angels bless thy dreams
With minstrelsy of love ;

VI.

I knew it, by the smile

That o er thy peaceful sleep,

Glides, like the rosy beam of morn,
To tint the misty deep.

VII.

Child of the pensive brow,
Search for those jewels rare,

That glow in Heaven s withholding hand,
To cheer thy lot of care.

VIII.

Hermetically seal d

To sounds of wo and crime,

That vex, and stain the pilgrim soul
Amid the toils of time,



LE PETIT SOUR D-MUET. 35

IX.

By discipline made wise,

Pass patient on thy way,
And when rich music loads the air,

Bow down thy head, and pray.



Child of immortal hope,

Still many a gift is thine,
The untold treasures of the heart,

The gems from learning s mine,

XL

And what ecstatic joy,

The thrilling lip shall prove,

That first its life-long chain shall burst
In a pure realm of love ;

XII.

What rapture for the ear,
When its stern seal is riven,

To drink its first, baptismal sound
From the full choir of heaven.



THE PETITION.

BY MRS. L. C. TUTHILL.

" I am unworthy, yet, for their dear sake,

I ask, whose roots planted in me are found;

For precious vines are propp d by rudest stake,

And heavenly roses fed in darkest ground.

" Beneath my leaves, though early fallen and faded,

Young plants are wanned, they drink my branches dew :
Let them not, Lord, by me be upas-shaded :
Make me, for their sake, firm, and pure, and true."

J. F. CLARKE.

" THERE comes father ! What shall we do ?" exclaimed
Lucy Norrie, a bright, fair-haired girl, to her little brother and
sister. " Do you not hear him ? He is almost on the last
stair. Walter, dear, hide under that sofa in the corner ;
Maggie, come with me behind this curtain."

The boy had scarcely crept into his hiding-place, and the
rich folds of the drapery of the window were still rustling,
when the father walked into the parlour, which had just been
brilliantly lighted for the evening.

And why should those little ones conceal themselves from
that handsome young father ? The elegance of his dress, and
his air, proclaim him a man of fashion ; the splendid apart
ment, into which his entrance has caused such commotion,
bespeaks the wealth of the owner.



THE PETITION. 27

He is a married roue ! A dissipated father !

He walks up to the magnificent pier-glass, and after looking
at himself for a moment, exclaims, with an oath, " Sober !"

A strange thing, indeed, for Walter Norrie to return home
from a dinner party sober. The fact could be accounted for
only in one way : he had dined with a friend who, for the first
time, had banished wine and strong drinks from his dinner-
table.

Poor little Walter sobbed aloud in his corner under the sofa.
The father heard the noise and, perceiving the shaking of one
of the curtains, w r cnt softly towards the window and gently
lifted the drapery.

There knelt his two little girls, with their faces to the wall,
their hands clasped, and their eyes closed.

" O God, pity my poor father, and make him a good man,"
earnestly whispered the elder girl, little Lucy.

Walter Norrie, that arrow, from the quiver of the Almighty,
has found a crevice in the armour \vith which vice has guarded
thy soul.

The curtain was noiselessly dropped; the sobbing increased.
The astonished father stooped, and under the sofa saw his only
boy his little namesake.

" Why, Wattie, what is the matter ? Come out here, my
boy ; are you playing hide and seek ?"

The little fellow cautiously crept from his hiding-place, re
garding his father with a terrified air.

" Do not be frightened, boy. Why did you hide under the
sofa ?"

" Because we heard you coming ;" lisped the boy.

" And why was my son afraid of his dear papa ?"

" I am not afraid of dear papa," said the boy, smiling



28 THE PETITION.

joyously through his tears, " but I thought it was that naughty
papa, who strikes Wattie sometimes."

Lucy and Maggie now stole cautiously from their retreat,
and, as if to protect their little brother, placed themselves one
on either side of him, taking his plump, dimpled hands in
theirs.

"Mamma has gone to church with Aunt. Mary," said Lucy,
in a deprecating tone. " She told us we might play an hour
in the parlour before we went to bed."

" Well, I will not interrupt you. What were you playing,
Lucy?" inquired the father, with a pleasant smile upon his
handsome features.

Lucy made no answer.

The father seated himself, and appeared a little impatient.

" I will tell you, papa," said Maggie : " Lucy was the
mother, and Wattie was her little boy ; she was sick and very
sorrowful, and cried a great deal ; I played I was the doctor,
who had come to see her. I just put on Wattie s little coat
and cap, as you see, papa. I hope it don t displease you ; we
were only in fun, you know."

The father smiled at the droll appearance of his little girl,
and said, encouragingly,

" And why was Lucy so sick and sorrowful ?"

" Because, she played, she had a very bad, wicked husband,
who drank naughty, hateful brandy, that made him crazy."

Here Lucy burst into an agony of tears.

" Well, children, you may go to bed now," said Walter
Norrie ; " come and kiss your poor father."

Little Wattie sprang to his father s arms and gave him a
hearty kiss. Maggie followed his example, but Lucy stood
abashed and irresolute.



THE PETITION. 39

" And Lucy, have you not a kiss, too, for your father ?"

Years had passed since these children had received the
sweet goodnight-kiss from their father.

Lucy threw her arms around his neck and sobbed aloud
upon his bosom. Tears dropped from the eyes of Walter
Norrie upon the fair forehead of his child, as he whispered in
her ear,

" Yes, Lucy, pray for your sinful father. Good night."

Long after the children were sleeping, the wretched father
paced that splendid apartment. Conscience was wrestling
with his heart. The man had begun, through the grace of
God, " to work out his salvation with fear and trembling."

He knelt in the place hallowed by the holy breathings of his
child, and there vowed a solemn vow, over which angels in
Heaven rejoiced.

That vow was faithfully kept, and Walter Norrie is now a
Christian father.



GOOD-NIGHT.

A NOISY band from " nursey V hand,

They come to bid good-night ;
No painter bold, on canvass old,

Has sketched a fairer sight.
Their bath has shed the roses red

Upon their dimpled cheeks,
But on their tops the limpid drops

Have played the strangest freaks ;
The stiflest hair has changed its air,

To order now reclaimed,
And silken curls, like naughty girls,

Look sheepish and ashamed.
Their simple slips with graceful dips

Have left their shoulders bare,
And plainly show, from knee to toe,

How round and white they are.
Then lowly stoop the little group,

And fold their hands with care ;
With lifted eyes and earnest guise,

They lisp their evening prayer.
The kiss goes round good-nights resound-

They flit, like things of air.




1L 10) IHl CO) (U) [D) .



CHILDHOOD.

BY MISS CAROLINE E. ROBERTS.
I.

THE smiles of blessed childhood,

How much of joy they tell,
Gushing unbidden, warm and free,

From out the heart s glad well.
Telling of fountains filPd with joy,

Of pleasures new and fair
Scattering their cheerful influence

Like sunbeams, everywhere.

II.

The tears of April childhood,

Which glisten as they rise,
Reflecting back, in rainbow hues,

Bright colours from the skies.
For clouds pass lightly o er the heart,

Like shadows o er a lake,
So grief upon the guileless soul

Can no sad impress make.



32 CHILDHOOD.

III.

The sports of merry childhood

The joyous laugh and bound,
The gladsome shout that fills the air,

And echoes round and round.
The healthful sport the quiet games,

The rambles far and wide,
For flowers in summer, or the tale

By winter s blithe fireside.

IV.

The sleep of sunny childhood-
How kindly doth it come,

Rest for the child, as for the flowers,

. When summer day is done.

In fairy land of pleasant dreams,
Roameth the sleeper dear,

And smiles light up the silent face
As angels whisper near.

V.

The prayer of trusting childhood,

That simple, earnest faith,
Which yieldeth to a Father s love

The care of all it hath.
Which asketh and receiveth,

Because no doubts arise,
But what its simple wishes reach

" Our Father" in the skies.



CHILDHOOD. 33

VI.

The death of happy childhood,

While day has but begun,
To see the glorious rising

Of another brighter sun.
To pass away, ere sorrow comes

With her chill, with ring hand
Fresh as from God to pass away

Into the better land.


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