The morning dawned on that lonely spot, Came with the accents of prayer and praise On the Indian's lips that lay. The first, the first who had called on God In those regions of Satan's care, The first who had breathed in his native tongue The language of secret prayer. And he who that hallowed music heard, The missionary lone Oh! the joy that thrilled through his yearning heart But he knelt, and blessed the hand that sent, Comfort and strength to his fainting soul With the voice of that secret prayer! GENEVRE. THE CODICIL. Ir all that has been said and written, on the uncertainty of human life, had produced even a small portion of the benefit which might have been expected to result from labors so well directed, we should see much less of the imprudence we all have had reason to deplore— not only in the conduct of those in whom we are interested, but frequently upon a retrospect of our own. The little incident, which I am about to commit to paper, occurred precisely as I shall relate it—and if any one who reads it be disposed to think it too unimportant for such commemoration, I have only to remark, that it produced on me, when I heard it, a strong and lasting impression; and to add, that those who are in the habit of daily observation upon what passes around them, may frequently derive a useful practical lesson from events which escape the notice of the inadvertent; or, in other words, those who look without seeing. It is now more than half a century since a gentleman, practicing the law in London, where he was rising rapidly in his profession, and where his residence was, for many reasons, peculiarly agreeable to himself— relinquished at once his well-founded hopes of eminence, and the society he had formed there, congenial to his tastes and habits, to retire to a small town in a remote county. He made this sacrifice, in compliance with the earnest wish of his father, who had long been a widower, and now in advanced years desired that his son should be near him during the remainder of his life. Mr. Freeland the younger, continued to administer the law in the small community which now became his abode, where his scrupulous integrity reflected honor on a profession to which disgrace and chicanery are commonly, and often unjustly, attributed. In the neighborhood of Mr. Freeland's residence lived old Mrs. Sandford, who had been for many years previously to the time of which we write, so far an invalid as to be unable to leave her bed, except for about one hour during the twenty-four. Diminutive by nature, she had become so wasted and pallid, and was often so oppressed with weakness and infirmity, that her kind and attentive visitors were surprised by her continued existence from day to day; whilst she herself, although patiently awaiting her release from suffering, always seemed to have comfort in believing that it could be at no very distant period. She had one domestic attendant, a young woman between twenty and thirty years of age, of stout conformation, florid countenance, and robust health. When Mary Robinson first went to live with Mrs. Sandford, she was too young to perform the duties of an active servant; and she waited upon the person of her mistress, whose increasing feebleness and indisposition soon required her constant attendance. In the course of her unremitted assiduity and watching, as well as in administering to Mrs. Sandford all her food and medicine, she became so deeply attached to her, as amply to repay, by zeal and affection, both the entire confidence of the invalid, and the pains she bestowed on the improvement of her nurse in mind and manners, whenever her situation permitted it. Mary did improve, partly from the instruction which Mrs. Sandford was well qualified to give her, and perhaps, in part, from the constant exercise of benevolent and disinterested feelings, which have a refining influence upon the mind, much more certain and extended than those, whose attention has not been directed to causes and effects, would be willing to believe. |