Voyage of life.: A journey from the cradle to the grave

Introduction

" Your defects to know Make use of every friend and every foe.

HE title of this book will suggest something of its scope and aim. Life is a fact, and not a glittering generality. The period bounded by its horizons is bristling with great possibilities. The alchemy of success consists in knowing an opportunity when it is met, and what use to make of it. In some sense that lesson will be taught in the following pages. • Tender infancy, frolicking childhood, and stern manhood, each with the surroundings incidental to its period, will receive careful consideration. The parents or guardians of youth are exhorted to instill right principles in the minds of their children — to train them to become good citizens. Young men and women are told how to carry out these wise maxims.

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4 INTRODUCTION.

Another aim of this book has been to supplant, in some measure, the trashy and pernicious literature of the day, by supplying instead, healthful and inviting food for the mind. It is a compendium of life experience garnered in brief space.

Old age is not always experience. The youth of our land aspire to be greater — all need to be better. We lend a helping hand.

In the preparation of this work, the best thinkers and writers — all available sources of which would add to its merit and acceptation —have been consulted.

It has been most carefully revised, and nearly one hundred pages of original matter and several new engravings have been added.

The cordial welcome with which the precedino- edition has been received, its widespread popularity, induces us to hope that the book in its new and attractive dress will meet with a reception no less flattering.

In the sincere aim to present a volume of solid, instructive and interesting reading matter, especially adapted to the requirements of the home circle, we send " The Voyage of Life " on its mission.

Contents

PAGE

I. The Voyage of Life 7

II. Infancy 18

II. Infancy

BABE in a house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting-place for innocence on earth ; a link between angels and men.

A babe is a mother's anchor, she cannot go far from her moorings. And yet a true mother never lives so little in the present as when by the side of the cradle. Her thoughts follow the imagined future of her child. That babe is the boldest of pilots, and guides her fearless thoughts down through scenes of comin^ years. The old ark never made such a voyage as the cradle daily makes. Maternity is the perfecting, not only of womanhood, but humanity. And to the first baby, has God given the sacred power to complete the circle of human sympathies, to waken the conscious soliditary of human interests. Every mother that

i8 is a mother, pictures the whole troop of loves, joys, and sorrows hovering around " the first baby." She lays every mother's baby in the cradle which held her own first baby, and listens to the songs that gush forth, or as they are softly murmured in the motherheart. To a mother's heart, every mother's baby is the representative of inestimable treasure ; it is an estate held in " fee simple ; " a little sub-soiler that leaves no affections fallow, no sympathies isolated from the claims of a common humanity.

Welcome to the parents the puny struggler, strong in his weakness, his little arms more irresistible than the soldier's, his lips touched with persuasion which Chatham and Pericles in manhood had not. His unaffected lamentations when he lifts up his voice on high ; or, more beautiful, the sobbing child — the face all liquid grief, as he tries to swallow his vexation — soften all hearts to pity, and to mirthful and clamorous compassion. The small despot asks so little that all reason and all nature are on his side. His io;-norance is more charming than all knowledge, and his little sins more be- Htching than any virtue. His flesh is angel's flesh, all alive. " Infancy," said Coleridge, " presents body and spirit in unity ; the body is all animated." All day, between his three or four sleeps, he coos like a pigeon house, sputters and spurs, and puts on his faces of importance, and when he fasts, the little Pharisee fails not to sound his trumpet before him. By lamplight, he delights in shadows on the wall ; by daylight, in yellow and scarlet. Carry him out of doors — he is overpowered by the light and by the extent of natural objects, and is silent.

The first baby ! — why, it brings treasures with it! True, its little hand is empty; but then it brings to light and activity unrevealed capacities, looses the sealed fountains, and assays the unwrought treasure of the human soul. It is not all joy — that baby gift ;— if it were it could not be a joy forever. It is not all sorrow ; if it were, the fountains of the heart it stirs, could not grow pure to reflect the heaven above ; would not flow down the stream of time, bearing rich freight for unknown and unborn posterity. But see, it lays its tiny hand on the heart, and it forgets to beat for self. It pillows its soft cheek on the bosom that, hitherto, had looked - out upon the strueehnpf world — all unlinked to its wants, all unmoved by its destiny — and henceforth that bosom is the asylum of the orphan, the refuge of the oppressed, the sanctuary which invites a world lying" in wretchedness to the banquet of love, to the smiles of a common Father. And why ? — Ah, that baby is the medium through which the helplessness, the wants and the promise of humanity have appealed to the woman. In behalf of the race, it has whispered mother / and looking into its trusting, worshipping eyes, she accepts the consecration, answers the appeal with a deep, an eternity echoed — my child.

No one feels the death of a child as a mother feels it. The father cannot feel it thus. True, there is a vacancy in his home and a heaviness in his heart. There is a chain of association that at set times comes round with a broken link — there are memories of endearment, a keen sense of loss, a weeping over crushed hopes, and a pain of wounded affection. But the mother feels that one has been taken away who was still closer to her heart. Hers has been the office of constant ministration. Every graduation of feature developed before her eyes ; she detected every new gleam of infant intelligence ; she heard the first utterance of every stammering word ; she was the refuge of its fears, the supply of its wants ; and every task of affection wove a new link, and made dear to her its object. And when her child dies, a portion of her own life as it were dies with it. How can she give her darling up, with all these living memories, these fond associations ? The timid hands that have so often taken in trust and love, how can she fold them on its sinless breast, and surrender them to Death ? The feet whose wanderings she watched so narrowly, how can she see them straio^htened to otq down into the dark valley ? The head that she had pressed to her lips and bosom, that she has watched in peaceful slumber and in burning sickness, a hair of which she could not see harmed, oh, Jiozu can she consign it to the dark chamber of the grave? It was a gleam of sunshine and a voice of perpetual gladness in her home ; she had learned from it blessed lessons of simplicity, sincerity, purity, faith ; it had unsealed within her a gushing, never-ebbing tideofaffection ; when suddenly it was taken away, and that home is left dark and silent ; and to the vain and heart-rending aspiration, " Shall that dear child never return again ? " there breaks in response, through the cold gray silence, "Nevermore — oh, nevermore!" The heart is like a forsaken mansion, and that word goes echoing through its desolate chambers. And yet, fond mother! (" Time brings such wonderous easing,") thou wilt in after years look back, with a not unpleasing sadness, even upon this scene of grief :

EMPTY CRADLES.

Mrs. Georgie A. H. McLeod.

Oh, the empty, empty cradles,

That must now be put away, For the little ones will need them

Never more by night or day, For the pure and dreamless sleepers.

Never more they'll rock to rest, Their bright heads upon the pillows,

Shall no more be softly prest !

In the still and solemn nightfall,

Death's pale angel noiseless sped, "^I have gathered only Lilies, For my Lord, to-day," he said ;

Oh, the Lilies, the White LiHes,

That made earthly homes so bright.

How many, many buds are missing, Since the happy morning light !

Waxen hands, with blossoms in them,

Faces very white and fair.

Curtained eyes, like hidden star-light,

Silken rings of sunny hair.

Hushed and still, we gaze upon them

And we scarcely know our loss ; But to-morrow we shall feel it.

Almost crushed beneath the cross.

Little robes, so richly broidered.

Wrought with so much love and pride Dainty laces, pale, pure ribbons.

They must all be laid aside ; For in glorious robes of brightness

Are the little ones arrayed.

All unstained by earth the whiteness.

Such a little while they stayed.

Ah, the busy, busy mornings.

And the nights of anxious care ; Now, there is no need of watching,

There'll be time enough to spare. There's no baby's voice, we'll listen,

Thinking that we hear it oft ; On our face no baby fingers,

Touches like the rose leaves soft.

Never mind the noisy household,

Nor loud foot-falls on the stair, 'Twill not wake the peaceful sleeper,

There's no baby anywhere.

In a casket, white as snow-flakes,

Nestling all among the flowers, Are the pure and stainless Lilies,

That a little while were ours.

In our dreams 'midst dazzling brightness,

And a rapturous burst of song, Through our tears, we saw above us,

Oh ! the radiant spirit throng ! In their arms so softly cradled

Our ov/n little ones we know.

And we hear them whisper gently,

" The White Lilies from below."

Wide the shining gates are opened,

For the children are at home.

Back to us, come the sweet echoes,

" Oh, suffer them to come ! " a

Put away the empty cradles,

Keep we only in our sight That bright glimpse of the fair dwelling

Which the children have to-night.

III. Childhood

And say to parents what a holy charge Is theirs ; with what a kingly power their love Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind. Warn them to wake at early dawn and sow Good seed, before the world has sown its tares.

, .yiP HE child is father of the man. Men ^gf'l are but children of a larger growth. ^ ^ How often do we meet with this array of words! Yet how insensible we are to the profound philosophy they enwrap. See yonder group of children now playing together — like birds among the blossoms of earth, haunting all the green shadowy places, and rejoicing in the bright air ; happy and beautiful faces, and as changeable as happy, with eyes brimful of joy, and with hearts playing upon their little faces like sunshine upon clear waters ; among those who are now idling together on that slope, or hunting butterflies together on the edge of that wood, — you see our future men and women, not only the gifted and the powerful, the wise and the eloquent, the ambitious and the renowned, but the wicked and the treacherous, the abandoned profligate and the faithless husband, the gambler, the drunkard and the robber.

Among them, and that other little troop just appearing, children with yet happier faces and pleasanter eyes, the blossoms of the future — the mothers of nations, the unfaithful wife and the broken-hearted husband, the proud betrayer and his pale victim, the living and breathing portents and prodigies, the embodied virtues and vices, of another age and of another world. If this picture be true, parents, what a responsible charge you have. To you are entrusted these beautiful gems of God, and He will hold you responsible for their proper culture. Upon your training will rest their future destiny and a nation's hope. How important then that parents should remember the words of Archbishop Leighton, who says, " Fill the bushel with good wheat, and there will be no room for chaff and rubbish." This is a good thought for every mother while tending her children, and watching the growth of their power in body and mind.

" As soon as they be born," the Bible says, " children go astray speaking lies." So soon, therefore, will a Christian mother begin to " train her child in the way he should go," thai £-ood habits may be formed, ready to carry out good principles as the child grows old enouQ-h to understand the reason for his conduct.

Not without design has God implanted in the maternal breast that strong love of her children which is felt everywhere. This lays deep and broad the foundation for the child's future education from parental hands. Nor without designs has Christ commanded, "Feed my lambs," — meaning to inculcate upon his Church the duty of caring for the children of the Church and the world at the earliest possible period. Nor can parents and all wellwishers to humanity be too earnest and careful to fulfill the promptings of their very nature and the command of Christ in this matter. Influence is as quiet and imperceptible on the child's mind as the falling of snow flakes on the meadow. One cannot tell the hour when the human mind is not in condition of receivingf impressions from exterior moral forces. In innumerable instances, the most secret and unnoticed influences have been in operation for months and even years to break down the strongest barriers of the human heart, and work out its moral ruin, while yet the fondest parents and friends have been unaware of the working of such unseen aofents of evil. Not all at once does any heart become utterly bad. The error is in this : that parents are not conscious how early the seeds of vice are sown and take root. It is as the Gospel declares, " While men slept, the enemy came and sowed tares, and went his way."

Grown persons are apt to put a lower estimate than is just, on the understanding of children. They rate them by what they know ; and children know very little ; but their comprehension is great. Hence the continual wonder of those who are unaccustomed to them, at the old fashioned ways of some lone little one, who has no play- fellows — and at the odd mixture of the folly and wisdom in its sayings. A continual battle goes on in the child's mind, between what it knows and what it comprehends. Its answers are fooHsh from partial ignorance ; and wise from extreme quickness of apprehension. The great art of education is so to train this last faculty as neither to depress nor over-exert it. The matured mediocrity of many an infant prodigy proves both the degree of expansion in which it is possible to force a child's intellect, and the boundary which nature has set to the success of such false culture.

A majority of character, throughout civilized society, gets its mood and bent from home influences. Education, it has been well said, forms the common mind, and home influences* are the most impressive common educators. Good or bad, their potency is the same.

Do not command children under six years of age to keep anything secret, not even the pleasure you may be preparing as a surprise for a dear friend. The cloudless heaven of youthful openheartedness should not be overcast, not even by the rosy dawn of shyness ; otherwise, children will soon learn to conceal their own secrets as well as yours.

We desire to enter a protest against the fashion among many mothers, of referring their children to " father," in matters that require the exercise of judgment and discretion. Of course it is wrong for parents to discuss such matters before their children. What we mean to say is, that the equal sovereignty of parents should be an unquestioned thing in the minds of children. There should be no such thing as an appeal from the decisions of the one to the other with hope of a reversal of judgment. Mothers who evade such duty, not only depreciate their own value in the eyes of their children, but serve to weaken and render valueless the judgment and wisdom of women in eeneral, in the estimation of both their sons and daughters. Women often feel suspicious of the excellence of their own judgment, and are prone to appeal to men for ultimate decisions. In the " long run" of affairs, the judgment of women is really superior to that of men. The difference lies in the conscience and the decisive qualities. In the management and training of children, a faulty decision now and then, is not so fatal in result, as a continually wavering and negative manner. Do not infer from this, that all matters pertaining to children should be decided at once, and never deviated from. There are many times when a child should be allowed to plead his own cause, and parents can never be too sympathetic with their children. A lack of it constitutes the direct griefs of childhood.

A sagacious observer says : — " When I see children going to their father for comfort, I am sure there is something wrong with their mother."

Do not make too much of their mistakes and faults. How can one be a child and not be full of faults ? Explain their mistakes gently. Be patient ! Wait for them ! Children must have time to grow. Somebody had to wait for you. Never let fear make a gulf between the child and you. Within due bounds liberty is the best thing for a child, as it is for a man. It will lead to irregularities, but out of these will come experience, and, gradually, self-control. The object of all family government Is to teach children to get along without being governed. They must therefore be trusted ; even if they abuse it, they must be trusted. Keep them busy with pleasant work, if possible. Awaken in them curiosity about the

CHILDHOOD. ^^2i

things which lie around them. A very little instruction will make children curious of plants, minerals, natural history, of literary curiosities, autographs, postage-stamp collections, and a thousand things which will inspire pleasure in their reason rather than in their appetites.

Do unto children, always, even as ye, when ye were children, would have been done by. Thus, reader, shall you enlarge and soften many an intellect and heart ; thus prevent many a home being made sad and desolate by domestic bitterness.

Everybody's rights seem to be recognized and talked about but the children's ; and yet we venture to say that those of none are infringed upon more than theirs. We who are not so far removed from childhood, either in accumulation of years or lack of sympathy, can remember how many childish grievances we had — how dreadful they seemed to us then, and of how little importance the rules sometimes have seemed since we looked back with older eyes. It is well to look at these things in our dealings with our children, who are governed and scolded and found fault with far too much. Dr. Hall, in his excellent work of

"Health by Good Living," gives parents a good piece of advice in telling them to let the children alone when they gather around the family table. It is a cruelty to hamper them with manifold rules and regulations about this, and that, and the other. As long as their conduct is harmless as to others, encourage them in their cheeriness. Suppose a child does not sit as straight as a ramrod at the table ; suppose a cup or tumbler slips through his little fingers and deluges the plate of food below, and the oroblet is smashed, and the table-cloth is ruined ; do not look a thousand scowls and thunders, and scare the poor thing to the balance of its death, for it was scared half to death before ; it " did not go to do it." Did you never let a glass slip through your fingerg since you were grown ? Instead of sending the child away from the table in anger, if not even with a threat for this or any other little nothing, be as generous as you would to an equal or superior guest to whom you would,with amore orless obsequious smile, " it is of no possible consequence." That would be the form of expression even to a stranger guest, and yet to your own child you remorselessly, and revengefully, and angrily mete out a swift punishment, which for the time almost breaks its heart, and belittles you amazingly. The proper and more enlightened mode of dealing out reproof to the child, when it seems necessary, is to take no notice of mishaps or bad behavior at the time, or to go further, and divert attention from them at the very instant, if possible, or to make a kind apology for them ; but afterwards, in an hour or two, or better still, next day, draw the child's attention to the fault, if fault it is, in a friendly and loving manner ; point out the impropriety in some kindly way ; show where it was wrong or rude, and appeal to the child's self-respect or manliness. This is the best way to correct all family errors. Sometimes it may not succeed ; sometimes harsh measures may be required ; but try the deprecating or the kindly method with equanimity of mind, and failure will be of rare occurrence. Never mar home life by cross words or peevishness.

This world is full of rough places, and its jagged features are as frequently seen in the faces around us, as in its rocks and caverns. The father, stern and unyielding, drives sunshine from the house, or the mother, full of responsibility, cuffs the children into corners, and has order and neatness at the expense of their liberty and happiness. Perhaps a youth of seventeen presumes to govern, and ma and children must keep still. The novel-reading young lady becomes horribly nervous if the little ones touch the sofa on which she reclines. The girl in the kitchen frowns them out of her presence, or scolds them, without shame. Poor little things ! how much they seem to be in the way. One moment petted and carried in our bosoms, the next cuffed and abused as if the cause of all our trials. A disagreement between parents is frequently revenged upon the children, and every careless act is laid to their charge. A lost spoon, a broken china, a misplaced book, is referred to them, and before they can command language to defend themselves, they take it for granted that pa, ma, big brother and sister must be right and they wrong. Where is the wisdom in saying to a child, be a man ? If the mind be curbed and humbled too much in children — if their spirits be abased and broken by too strict a hand over them — they lose all their vigor and industry.

Make room for children. Room and freedom for them at home, that they may expand and strengthen those faculties and functions which are soon to constitute the man-andwomanhood of a generation. Room for them in the nursery and on the play-ground, with opportunity and freedom to exercise, if you would have them hearty, cheerful, and homeloving. Too much, in the main, are children burrowed and quashed at home, where they should be encouraged to gambol and rejoice — at home, where their voices should rino- out merry as the voices of summer birds. Room for the children at school. At school, where they are too often imprisoned, stifled, and dwarfed in body and mind. Room and free^ dom for the children at school, that they may breathe fresh air and commune with their teachers, not as masters — stern, unbending andunsympathising — but as intellectual guides and social friends. Room for the children at church, too, and see that they are atti^acted — as they can be — thither, and not driven witn the " rod of correction," or the chilling rebuke. More room, greater care for, and a higher common estimate of children, if you would stimulate their ambition to win your regard. Children are generally older, more observing, and more capable than they seem. The less you ignore them, the less will they ignore you. The more you cultivate them, the more will they cultivate you. Give them no room, teach them to think you believe them nobodies, and ten to one they will strive to justify such a belief. Room for the children, God's holiest and tenderest blessing — the light of our homes and the delight of our hearts. Room for them everywhere, and not least in the public place, the public conveyance, at the public table. Tuck them not in a corner, crowd them not to the wall, leave them not forever to the second course and the fragments of the feast, unless you would have them grow up thoughtless of justice and selfish as yourselves, to practice, in turn upon their children as you practice upon them.

IV. The Rights Of Children

BABY has a right, too frequently denied it, to be let alone. It ought to be a rule in the nursery never to disturb the infant when it is happy and quiet. Older children, too, two, three, and four years of age, who are amusing themselves in a peaceful, contented way, ought not to be wantonly interfered with. I have often seen a little creature lying in its crib cooing, laughing, crooning to itself in the sweetest baby fashion, without a care in the world to vex its composure, when in would come mamma or nurse, seize it, cover it with endearments, and effectually break up its tranquility. Then, the next time, when these thoughtless people wanted it to be quiet, they were surprised that it refused to be so. It is habit and training which makes little children restless and fretful, rather than natural disposition, in a multitude of cases. A healthy babe, coolly and loosely dressed, judiciously fed, and frequently bathed, will be good and comfortable if it have not too much attention. But when it is liable a dozen times a day to be caught wildly up, bounced and jumped about, smothered with kisses, poked by facetious fingers, and petted till it is thoroughly out of sorts, what can be expected of it ? How would fathers and mothers endure the martyrdom to which they allow the babies to be subjected ? Another right which every baby has is to its own mother's care and supervision. The mother may not be strong enough to hold her child and carry it about, to go with it on its outings, and to personally attend to all its wants. Very often it is really better for both mother and child that the strong arms of an able-bodied woman should bear it through its months of helplessness. Still, no matter how apparently worthy of trust a nurse or servant may be, unless she have been tried and proved by long and faithful service and friendship, a babe is too precious to be given unreservedly to her care. The mother herself, or an elder sister or auntie, should hover protectingly near the tiny creature, whose Hfe-long happiness may depend on the way its babyhood is passed. Who has not seen in the city parks the beautifully-dressed infants, darlings evidently of homes of wealth and refinement, left to bear the beams of the sun and stings of gnats and flies, while the nurses gossipped together, oblivious of the flight of time ? Mothers are often quick to resent stories of the neglect or cruelty of their employees, and cannot be made to believe that their own children are sufferers. And the children are too young to speak.

The lover of little ones can almost always see the subtle difference which exists between the babies whom mothers care for, and the babies who are left to hirelings. The former have a sweeter, shyer, gladder look than the latter. Perhaps the babies who are born, so to speak, with silver spoons in their mouths, are better off than those who came to the heritage of a gold spoon. The gold-spooners have lovely cradles and vassinets. They wear Valenciennes lace and embroidery, and fashion dictates the cut of their bibs, and the length of their "flowing robes. They are waited upon by bonnes in picturesque aprons and caps, and the doctor is sent for whenever they have the cohc. The Httle silver-spooners, on the other hand, are arrayed in simple slips, which the mother made herself in dear, delicious hours, the sweetest in their mystic joy which happy womanhood knows. They lie on the sofa, or on two chairs with a pillow placed carefully to hold them, while she sings at her work, spreads the snowy linen on the grass, moulds the bread, and shells the peas. The mother's hands wash and dress them, the father rocks them to sleep, the proud brothers and sisters carry them to walk, or wheel their little wagons along the pavement. Fortunate babies of the silver spoon !