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to overcome the repugnance they excite. How much more fatal than even folly they are to all domestic felicity, you have probably already seen enough of the matrimonial state to judge.

Many of the qualities, which fit a woman for a companion, also adapt her for the office of a helper; but many additional ones are requisite. The original purpose for which this sex was created is said, you know, to have been, providing man with a help-mate; yet it is, perhaps, that notion of a wife, which least occupies the imagination in the season of courtship. Be assured, however, that, as an office for life, it's importance stands extremely high to one whose situation does not place him above the want of such aid; and fitness for it should make a leading consideration in his choice. Romantic ideas of domestic felicity will infallibly in time give way to that true state of things, which will show that a large part of it must arise from well ordered affairs, and an accumulation of petty comforts and conveniences. A clean and quiet fire side, regular and agreeable meals, decent apparel, a house managed with order and economy, ready for the reception of a friend or the accomodation of a stranger, a skilful as well as affectionate nurse in time of sickness-all these things compose a very considerable part of what the nuptial state was intended to afford us; and, without them, no charms of person or understanding will long continue to bestow delight. The arts of housewifery should be regarded as professional to the woman who intends to become a wife; and to select one for that station, who is destitute of them, or disinclined to exercise them, however otherwise accomplished, is as absurd, as it would be to choose for your lawyer or physician a man who excelled in every thing rather than in law or physic.

Let me remark, too, that knowledge and good will are not the only requisites for the office of a helper. It demands a

certain energy both of body and mind, which is less frequently met with among the females of the present age than might be wished. How much soever infirm and delicate health may interest the feelings, it is certainly an undesirable attendant on a connexion for life. Nothing can be more contrary to the qualification of a help-mate, than a condition, which constantly requires that assistance which it never can impart. DR. AIKIN.

THE COUNTRY FAVOURABLE TO HEALTH.
YE, who amid this fev'rish world would wear
A body free of pain, of cares a mind;
Fly the rank city, shun it's turbid air ;
Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke
And volatile corruption, from the dead,
The dying, sick'ning, and the living world
Exhal'd, to sully Heav'n's transparent dome
With dim mortality. It is not air,

That from a thousand lungs reeks back to thine
Sated with exhalations rank and fell,

The spoil of dunghills, and the putrid thaw
Of nature; when from shape and texture she
Relapses into fighting elements:

It is not air, but floats a nauseous mass
Of all obscene, corrupt, offensive things.

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While yet you breathe, away; the rural wilds
Invite the mountains call you, and the vales ;
The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze,
That fans the ever undulating sky;.

A kindly sky! whose fost'ring pow'r regales
Man, beast, and all the vegetable reign.

ARMSTRONG.

ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

GOD of my life, and Author of my days! Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise; And trembling take upon a mortal tongue That hallow'd name, to harps of seraphs sung: Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more Than veil their faces, tremble, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in ev'ry diff'rent sphere, Are equal all, for all are nothing here. All nature faints beneath the mighty name, Which nature's works, thro' all their parts, proclaim. I feel that name my inmost thoughts control, And breathe an awful stillness through my soul: As by a charm, the waves of grief subside; Impetuous passion stops her headlong tide. At thy felt presence all emotions ce ɑse, And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace; Till ev'ry worldly thought within me dies, And Earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes; Till all my sense is lost in infinite,

And one vast object fills my aching sight.

But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain,
And mingles with the dross of Earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust.
His spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclin'd;
Marks the young dawn of ev'ry virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the softest cry,

His grace descends to meet the lifted eye;

He reads the language of a silent tear,
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I givė;

Accept the vow, and bid the suppliant live?
From each terrestrial bondage set me free;
Still ev'ry wish, that centres not in thee;
Bid my
fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.

If the soft hand of winning Pleasure leads
By living waters, and through flow'ry meads,
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene,
And vernal beauty paints the flatt'ring scene,
O! teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart-Beware!
With caution let me hear the Syren's voice,
And, doubtful, with a trembling heart rejoice.
If, friendless, in a vale of tears I stray,

Where briers wound, and thorns perplex my way,
Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,
And with strong confidence lay hold on thee;
With equal eye my various lot receive,
Resign'd to die, or resolute to live;
Prepar'd to kiss the sceptre or the rod,
While God is seen in all, and all in God.
I read his awful name emblazon'd high
With golden letters on th' illumin'd sky ;
Nor less the mystic characters I see
Wrought in each flow'r, inscrib'd on ev'ry tree
In ev'ry leaf, that trembles to the breeze,
I hear the voice of God among the trees,
With thee in shady solitudes I walk,
With thee in busy, crowded cities talk;
In ev'ry creature own thy forming pow'r;
In each event thy providence adore:

Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control.
Thus shall I rest unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thine arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrours free,
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.

Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And Earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I stand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph, and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.

MRS. BARBAULD.

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