EDUCATION IN NEW

HAMPSHIRE.

257

be stable, and her character solid and weighty as the granite of her mountains.

Finally, to give New-Hampshire youth, "that complete and generous education which fits a man to perform justly, skilfully and magnanimously, all the offices both public and private, of peace and war," there is needed a higher seminary or college, in which study and manual labor shall be conjoined. Manual labor, as part of a system of public education, has of late years engaged the attention of literary, scientific and practical men. The opinion has obtained. extensive currency, and is supported by facts, that two or three hours a day spent by students in labor would eminently conduce to the great ends of a public education. Such labor, taken at regular intervals, does not retard progress in study; it creates interest, and gives energy to the mind; promotes industry; gives a knowledge of useful arts; is eminently favorable to morality, and developes and fixes the manlier features of character. Moreover, by greatly lessening the expense, it places the means of education within the reach of all; disparages useless distinctions in society; is most consonant to our republican institutions; preserves health and prolongs life; increases the power and extends the field of personal usefulness, and gives that perfect symmetry to both body and mind, which the Author of nature designed in their conjoined creation, and which, united with love to mankind and love to God, constitutes human perfection.

May it be our happiness to see such an institution reared in New Hampshire a proof that we are not ungrateful for the blessings of education, secured by the wisdom and liberality of our fathers; nor unmindful of the duties which we owe to posterity.

22*

THE MIRACLE.

BY CHARLES J. FOX.

MID-DAY upon Judea's plains. The air
Was hot and parched and motionless. There came
And sate beside a fountain underneath
The shadow of a palm, a Jewish mother,
And in her arms her first-born. He had been
A beautiful boy and laughing, with an eye
Beaming with love and gladness, and fair hair
That clustered round his forehead and fell down
In curly ringlets. On his cheek were sealed
Love's rosiest dimples. Well might she be proud
Of her fair child, and all her soul seemed bound
In his existence. But the rose had faded
From his full cheek, and from his eye the light
Of gladness now was passing. In their stead
The hectic and the glare of fever burned,
Cheating her hopes with seeming, till the moan
Wrung out by anguish, and the quick deep breath,
Told the reality!

And he must die!

Her beautiful and precious! He must fade
Like a torn flower at noon-day, and be laid
In the cold grave to moulder. But she clung
To hope even in despair, for not till death
A mother's hope shall falter. So she pressed

The curls aside that shaded his high brow,

And when the fresh breeze fanned him, he looked up And faintly smiled, and murmured, while she breathed A softened lullaby.

Now lay thee down and sleep!

My beautiful, my first-born! -for the breeze
Is fanning thee, and the fountain's melodies
In lulling music creep.

Sleep on thy mother's breast!

So fair! it cannot be that thou shalt die !
God! who hast given him, bend down thine eye!
Hear thou my fond request !

THE MIRACLE.

How dear art thou, my boy!

How have I watched thy slumbers, seen thee smile,
And heard thee lisp thy father's name the while,
With more than mortal joy!

What! art thou murmuring now?
Dreaming of pleasant fields, and beautiful flowers,
And chasing butterflies in summer hours
With flushed and joyous brow?

Moaning? How hot his cheek!

Would that thy mother could but bear thy pain!
Oh! would that I could see thee smile again!
How pale! Oh! wake thee! speak!

Suddenly there came

Over his face a tremor, and a chill,

And ashy paleness. Could it be indeed

That he was dead!

Morn on the hills!

There was a multitude,

And one within their midst spake to the crowd, "Like one who had authority." At his words,

Of awe and yet of comfort, all were bowed

In wondering silence. Then to his feet there sprang
That mother with her boy upon her breast,

Her own dead boy,· and knelt her down and wept.
"Master! thou canst ;— speak but the word he lives!"
Then he bent down, and raised her quick, and smiled,
And pointed up to heaven, as he would say,
'Tis he, the Father,
Bless his name

"Nay! not to me the praise!
Who giveth and who taketh.
That he hath healed thine anguish!"

"Mother! dear mother!"

Oh! who can tell how deep a gladness filled

Her stricken heart, when the fair child looked up,

259

And whispered, "Mother!" Think ye, did not her soul Swell with thanksgiving to her God, who bowed

And heard her prayers?

Yet the same power that bade

The stilled pulse beat, the glared eye beam again,
Upholds us every moment. Did his hand
Cease to support an instant, what were we,
But clods of earth as lifeless as the dust

We tread beneath us? Shall not we then praise,
Even with that mother's joy, Him who hath made
And kept us, and still keeps us ! - Him whose eye,
Unsleeping, watches o'er each step, each breath,
Whether we wake or slumber?

THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST.

BY REV. HOSEA BALLOU.

ONE of the rulers of the synagogue, Jairus by name, came to Jesus, and falling down at his feet, besought him most earnestly, saying, “my little daughter lies at the point of death. I pray thee come and lay ́thine hands upon her, that she may be healed, and she shall live." The compassionate Saviour was moved at a petition which flowed so directly from a parent's heart, and which indicated such strong faith in his power to heal. Immediately he went with the afflicted father. No sooner was it known that he was going to heal the sick child, than a great crowd of people followed, and pressed hard upon him. In this vast concourse was a woman, who had been afflicted for twelve years with a distressing disorder, "and had suffered many things of many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse."

This afflicted woman had lost all hope of recovery by the assistance of human skill; indeed, she was poor and penniless. Her little estate had already passed into the hands of her physicians, who instead of doing her any good, had caused her many painful sufferings. Destitute, alone, and friendless, a thought came into her mind, and it immediately formed itself into a resolution, accompanied with a perfect confidence, that if she could by any means pass through the crowd so as but to touch the clothes of Jesus, she should be made whole.

It is scarcely possible to imagine a circumstance more calculated to excite exertion than this. She was no doubt

THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST.

261

very feeble. A great multitude of people were crowding and pressing to keep close to Jesus, that they might not miss of seeing the miracle. The difficulty of getting through the crowd was, no doubt, very great; but salvation was so near and so desirable, that it invigorated her feeble system to such a degree that her efforts were availing. We may, perhaps, form some idea of the manner of her exertions upon this occasion. She would naturally direct her eyes. toward Jesus, and would catch a glimpse of him as often as possible. When it so happened that she could by the greatest exertion get before one of the crowd, she never let the opportunity slip by unimproved. Each step gained was cautiously kept. She was careful that no one should crowd her back. She speaks not a word to any one, lest she should miss an opportunity to advance. The nearer she comes to the prize the stronger and more active she grows, till she eagerly reaches forth her hand and touches the garment of the Saviour. She now realizes her faith; her confidence has not deceived her; she is made whole!

Although she did not once think that the Saviour was apprehensive of her approach, yet he who knew the very thoughts of men's hearts, who saw Nathaniel under the fig-tree afar off, already knew her case, her faith, and the efforts which she had made to come to him. Immediately as she touched his garment he turned himself about in the press, and, as if surprised that any one should touch him, said, "who touched my clothes?" The disciples, ignorant of the particular cause, and surprised that their master should ask who touched him, when so pressed with the crowd of people all around him, said to him: Thou seest the multitude thronging thee, and sayest thou, who touched me?" Jesus made them no reply, but cast his eyes around to see who had done this thing, when the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what she had done, came and fell down before him, and told him all the truth. And he said unto her, daughter, thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace, and be whole of thy plague!"