ONE of the improvements of this matter-of-fact age exhibits itself in a contempt of those things which have won the respect and admiration of preceding ages. We might be startled to find the world already arrived at a sublimation above the poetic, could any thing surprise in this day of great things. An aversion to poetry has become quite a fashionable mania—and we should deem it unprofitable to say any thing on the subject, did we not wish to call the attention of the young, who echo a watchword without reflecting on its import, to the subject in question;—by asking if they know what it implies to acknowledge a dislike to poetry. It is nothing less than acknowledging a want of sympathy for the refined and beautiful; and no powers of appreciation for the high and daring. This they have no idea of acknowledging. Question them more closely,-Milton they like-portions of Shakspeare-and some few of the exquisite fugitive pieces in circulation. Still-they do not like poetry! Putting these facts together, we infer that they do not like doggrel verse nor insipid rhyme; and who, with any pretensions to a cultivated taste and enlightened understanding, does. Criticism is so far useful here that it establishes a standard, and makes the necessary distinction between the mass of imitation, and the true gems of literature. But criticism itself is so abused, and its decisions so strongly tinctured with injustice, and prejudice that we have often turned from its unfeeling severity, to say with Sterne that we could "go fifty miles on foot, to honor the man who would be pleased he knows not why, and cares not wherefore."

We like to hear things called by their right names—and when speaking of poetry, we do not mean mere jingling rhyme, or 'prose with ragged ends :'— but, in the view of those high conceptions dimly seen afar, that enthusiasm or rapture of the mind, which, borrowing as it were in its haste and ardor the fabled Pegasus of the Muses, springs into a gallop, because it cannot be confined to the sober gait of grave pedestrians.

But there are treasures of poetry in the human soul which have never found utterance through the medium of language. There is poetry in our circumstances and in our destinies-it is scattered throughout our path, in the moral, social and natural world. There is poetry in Heaven!-though it is poetry which needs the harp of Gabriel to tell in numbers.

No where upon earth is there more than in the little world of home. We have ever contended for the poetry which dwells in the Temple of Home; or would dwell there if not wilfully shut out, and driven away by the spirit of discord. And the care necessary for preserving the poetry of life, is equally worthy of the attention with severer duties. The thousand little magic influences which shed a serenity and cheer over the hearts of those under their sway, are not trifling when viewed in the aggregate amount of happiness thereby produced. The opportune ministration to comfort and entertainment, which seemed accidental; the reasonable gratification of taste and fancy; the beguiling of fatigue and irritation ;-tell positively in their effects upon the life and character. And the wife who desires to find the true road to happiness and power, need seek it only in the flowery path of these appropriate duties.

"A woman, taking her station at the responsible post of mistress of a family, should consider her character and occupations as elevated far above the atmosphere of petty personal and family jealousies and difficulties. She is to become a model of forbearance, kindness and peace to her household and her friends. She must establish respect among others; without it she will not long respect herself. Respect cannot be obtained, if paltry feelings are to be given way to but is to be obtained by a regular, uniform exhibition of such sentiments and actions, such language and feelings as tend to form and elevate the character of a good mistress of a family, and a good neighborhood. A meddlesome disposition, a suspicious spirit toward others, and an undue regard to their hasty, thoughtless or well-meaning expressions, aims at the root of her daily equanimity, and of course that of the comfort of others and her own happiness."

Self Inspection.

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For the Microcosm.

SELF INSPECTION.

"O, wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!

It wad frae monie a blunder free us
And foolish notion:

What airs in dress an gait wad lea'e us
And ev'n devotion!"

AFTER reflecting an hour this morning on some errors in theory and practice, prevalent among mothers of the present day, I seated myself at the desk with the intention of making the "Microcosm" the medium of communicating a few strictures on the evils which result from one very manifest abuse of parental influence. But, as I took up my pen,-" thinks I to myself,—what's the use ;"—who reads, in these days, for personal edification; what mother especially, receives any benefit from hints on education from one who is not experienced? "Old maid's and old bachelors' children are always well governed !" And then," thinks I to myself"-since the reformation of this abuse would be attended with no eclat; how, in these days of noise and bustle and display, can I expect a hearing. No-"it's no use!" He who would be heard must say something interesting. He must be careful not to waken the sleeping conscience; not to rouse the dormant energies of the intellect. The correction of one "bosom-sin," seen and known only to the Omniscient, would not show to the world so forcibly the power of religion, as the exercise of some self-denying" duty. With an air of boldness and self-righteous confidence, to warn the impenitent of impending danger, or to reprove the inactive christian, evinces such a desire for the welfare of others as is not easily mistaken. And furthermore,-" thinks I to myself"—though every person will acknowledge that " to err is human," yet let that truth be illustrated, by a bold exposure of any error in practice; and you will hear" Oh!"-" Ah!"-" Yes, it is to be hoped that Mr. 'what's his name,' Mrs. ‘so and so,' or Miss 'what d'ye call her,' will not fail to be benefitted by the perusal." But it is so very difficult to identify those personages, that there is little encouragement to attempt their reformation.

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And now honestly, gentle reader, has any thing you have read in the "Microcosm," not especially commendatory-seemed particularly applicable to your case? Have you ever suspected that that misconduct of which you were guilty ;-that conversation which evinced an entire disregard of the duty inculcated in the ninth commandment of the Decalogue;-that transaction, in which you disobeyed the tenth ;-have you suspected, that these were included in the things which were specified as evils to be corrected, in several pieces you have read? Bear with me, fair reader, while I question you a little farther. Do you habitually read for amusement, or for instruction? If you are a mother, does reference made to the high dignity and honor conferred by the maternal relation, make far sweeter melody to your ear, than the knell-like sound of maternal responsibility? Do you turn a deaf ear to comments on the abuse of natural affection, strikingly seen in the "spoiled child" and the sensitive mother, when any wonted gratification is denied; while you listen with delighted attention to eloquent

praise of the untold, untellable depth of that undying love which is found only in the tender mother's heart? And it is, indeed, high honor to be the mother of a being who is to live forever; the mother of one who is capable of aspirations after moral perfection; and of performing deeds which prove him allied to the All-perfect! And has not God increased your responsibility by adding to your benevolence, and knowledge of right, the strong instinct of natural affection? You ought to know, surely, better than another, whether, in view of the use you have made of this distinguishing gift, self-gratulation or the beautiful grace of humility, most becomes you.

"God made man after his own image." But, alas! the "crown has fallen from his head." Will you, fond mother, co-operate with the Creator of your child, by doing all that is in your power to restore that lost image? Will you exercise more than usual self-vigilance for one week, in order to discover your preferences?—that is, what you most desire for your child. I know what the decision of your understanding is. But will you observe the language of your feelings, as they flow spontaneously when you are unrestrained by the presence of a third person? Be assured, dear madam, that however wisely you may counsel and instruct your child, if the spontaneous exercises of your heart do not in some measure accord with your instructions, your child's heart will remain untouched by the lessons of wisdom which flow from your tongue. So many temptations beset us, from within and without, to live for the pleasure of the present moment, that you will fail of impressing your child with the true end of this life, if your habitual feelings are not the result of a life of faith. No faint efforts made at intervals, will accomplish the great work God has given you to do. It is no easy task to mould an immortal mind to the principles of rectitude established by the great Legislator of the Universe. Do not, then, let that little immortal so dear to your heart, and dear to the heart of Him who "breathed into it the breath of life"-get the impression from you, that it is all of life to live!' He will inevitably get this impression, if your habitual feelings and actions do not teach him the important lesson, that

"There is a life above,

Unmeasured by the flight of years,
And all that life is love."

Within your child, there is a "still small voice" which cries after God, and it will never cease to do so. But if it is not listened to in time, it will make its loud tones heard, and its shrill echo felt through eternity. If you have, in any way, deprived that voice of its melody, will you not make any sacrifice that may be necessary, to rectify the evil? Train up your child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.' "Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom."

Jan. 28, 1836.

N.

Letter from Lady Russell.

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[Lady Rachel Russell has ever possessed the love and admiration of all who knew her. Great strength of character, combined with true feminine delicacy and tenderness, and humble reliance upon God, are exhibited in her conduct, under the pressure of the most severe trials and sufferings. Some years after the execution of her husband, Lord John Russell, she watched over the death-bed of her only son, the Duke of Bedford,-who died of small pox in the thirty first year of his age. Subsequent to this event, she visited alternately the houses of her two married daughters who were both dangerously sick at the same time; and after seeing one laid in her coffin, she hurried to the bed-side of the other, to whom the physician had pronounced the slightest agitation as probably fatal; and to the anxious inquiries of her only surviving child, replied with composed serenity, "I have seen your sister out of bed to.day."

The following letter was written soon after the death of her husband, who was executed, or rather murdered July 21st, 1683.]

LETTER FROM LADY RUSSELL TO DR. FITZWILLIAM.

Woborne Abbey, 30th Sept. 1683.

I NEED not tell you, good doctor, how little capable I have been of such an exercise as this. You will soon find how unfit I am still for it, since my yet disordered thoughts can offer me no other than such words as express the deepest sorrows, and confused as my yet amazed mind is. But such men as you, and particularly one so much my friend, will, I know, bear with my weakness, and compassionate my distress, as you have already done by your good letter and excellent prayer. I endeavor to make the best use I can of both, but I am so evil and unworthy a creature, that though I have desires, yet I have no dispositions or worthiness towards receiving comfort. You that knew us both, and how we lived, must allow I have just cause to bewail my loss. I know it is common with others to lose a friend; but to have lived with such a one, it may be questioned how few can glory in the like happiness, so consequently lament the like loss. Who can but shrink at such blow, till by the mighty aids of his Holy Spirit, we will let the gift of God, which he hath put into our hearts, interpose? That reason which sets a measure to our souls in prosperity, will then suggest many things which we have seen and heard to moderate us in such sad circumstances as mine: but, alas! my understanding is clouded, my faith weak, sense strong, and the devil busy to fill my thoughts with false notions, difficulties, and doubts as of a future condition

-* of prayer: but this I hope to make matter of humiliation, not sin. Lord, let me understand the reason of these dark and wounding providences, that I sink not under the discouragements of my own thoughts! I know I have deserved my punishment, and will be silent under it; but yet secretly my heart mourns too sadly, I fear, and cannot be comforted, because I have not the dear companion and sharer of all my joys and sorrows. I want him to talk with, to walk with, to eat, and sleep with: all these things are irksome to me now: the day unwelcome, and the night so too: all company and meals I would avoid if it might be; yet all this is, that I enjoy not the world in my own way, and this sure hinders my comfort. When I see my children before me, I remember the pleasure he took in them; this makes my heart shrink. Can I regret *Two or three words torn out.