woman operating on its vital principles, toiling and praying, and sacrificing herself, to save those “little ones” whom Jesus loves?

Let me add, that the Benevolent Enterprizes which mark the train of Christianity, have received much of their support from woman. Previous to the coming of Christ, public charities were nearly unknown. Among the names of the disinterested women of the first century, who were “full of good works, and alms-deeds, which they did,” stands that of Dorcas. Her example was not lost on the ages that followed. And in the Catholic church, the kind, self-denying labors of the “Sisters of Charity,” are worthy of all commendation.

To whom, but to this sex, are we indebted for the sacred and sympathetic services rendered by the multiplied Benevolent Associations and Institutions of our own age? So long as the Orphan has a tongue to tell of her deeds, or the sick-bed of Poverty can show a gleam of gratitude, or the Seaman’s heart shall beat and glow, they will testify, that it is woman, who is God’s high-priest of mercy to the suffering. Legislation may appropriate its thousands for the Blind, the Dumb, and the Insane; but how poor were its consolations, did not she who best knows how to smooth the pillow for the aching head, and cheer the spirit in its heaviness, administer to each sufferer the public bounty? Who can estimate her influence in originating, and directing, in co-operation with man, and in giving its final efficacy to, every blessed charity, that springs from the soil of Christianity?

Such being the influence of woman on all the great interests of humanity, how should she exert it? Is there any peculiar inference to be drawn from the possession of this mighty power? No candid mind can deny that it involves responsibilities, corresponding precisely to its extent. To whom much is given, of them much is required. Were this sex of insignificant moment in the world, then might they plead for an exemption from its duties and obligations. But now the burden presses on them, and no individual can cast it lightly from herself.

In society, woman should ever bear with her a deep conviction of the power she there exercises. Her deportment should never be of that frivolous, or insipid character, which betrays no consciousness of a share in the dignity of our nature. She should carry to the social circle a sense of the value of human life, and a resolution to acquit herself as becomes an intelligent and immortal being. A courteous, yet perfectly natural manner, a cultivated understanding, and pure morals, are the tribute she should lay on this altar.

Why should our approach to a lady be the signal for trifling and nonsense? How long shall there be circles of this sex, from which a man of sense must turn away with the caustic saying of Wallenstein,

When will the civilities of social life become, through her influence, something beside an exchange of heartless forms, or of self-seeking attentions? Precisely so soon, and so fast as woman shall determine to reject the empty adulation of fops and simpletons, to be commended only for what deserves praise, and to be entirely sincere and Christian, in the social interview, no less than by her own fireside. Until this take place, society, in fashionable circles, will be, as an authoress remarks, like “the brilliant assemblies of Paris, a collection of young men who have nothing to do, and young women who have nothing to say.”

The responsibleness of woman extends widely through the world of Intellect. She is called to preside over schools for the nurture of the infant mind. Every child receives thus the impress of her taste and talents. Shall she come to this work, and daily pursue it, without a thoughtful preparation for her task? Is it for the mother to say, “I may read little or much, as I please. Of what consequence is the condition of my mind?” when she can hardly breathe on the germs before her, without either blighting their beauty, and checking their expansion, or shedding life, health, and eternal freshness, upon them?

Let no young lady disclaim for herself any lot or portion in those sober concerns. Hannah More had, at one time, more than a thousand children under her instruction. Others have recently followed in her steps. Every woman is, I maintain, by virtue of her sex, a teacher. There are now, or there sometime may be, minds subjected to her influence, over whose destinies, for weal or for wo, she will exert a fearful sway. Is it certain she will never be school-mistress, or mother, or guide and guardian to another? No, it is certain that, unless her path be strange, secluded, and anomalous, she will be either the architect, or destroyer of, or at least, a more than leaden weight on, some human intellect. Let her reflect on this fact, and conduct herself always in view of it.

At the fireside, what a sum of duties does her power impose? Here she wields a more than regal sceptre. Wisely did Boaz argue the excellence of Ruth, when he said, in reply to her modest question, “why have I found grace in thine eyes?” “It has fully been shewed me, all that thou hast done unto thy mother-in-law, since the death of thy husband.” Such domestic piety, a virtue that could sacrifice home, people, substance, and which tendered even life itself for a parent, was an earnest of the choicest worth. It formed

Of the confessed power of the mother, and the unrivalled claims of her children on her spiritual care, no language can speak too strongly, or even in adequate terms. From the hour when their first cry announces to her their utter helplessness, onward through the trials of childhood, and the crossing elements of youth, till they part from her charge,—no, this they never do,—but until she grasps their hand amid the chill of death, they draw from her, as a well-spring of life. What a question then is there to be asked, “Does she shed upon them an Eden-like fragrance? Is she a true mother?” Worlds of wellbeing hang on the answer.

In every domestic relation, the influence of woman is of transcendent concern. Let her measure the responsibilities that attach to her position. The faithful daughter, the kind sister, the disinterested inmate, no less than the parent, must habitually realize, that around that little spot, her home, she is distilling and must distill, either dews that fertilize the spirit, or night-damps which blast what they touch.

Consider the demands of her country upon woman. Sparta required her women to bear arms in war. Rome called on hers for the austere virtues of heathenism. But America justly anticipates in this sex a union of grace with power, intellectual cultivation sustained by moral and religious attainments. During the French Revolution, we are told that the wives and daughters of the celebrated artists gave their jewels to extinguish the national debt. Would that they had added the fairer gift of the Christian graces.

She who shapes so emphatically the destinies of home, should be aware of the calls of patriotism on her sex. I have read of a family in the West,