Imágenes de páginas



Charles was at Chinon, a village distant only a few miles from Orleans, surrounded with what remained of his gay court, and endeavoring to collect his scattered resources for his last hopeless struggle, when, on the 24th of February, 1429, an`attendant announced that a maiden of extraordinary appearance and pretensions

ble, and attendance upon all the means of grace. If
you will do this, rest assured, that you will find God.
He will "bring you out of darkness into his own mar-
velous light," and you will have a blissful experience
of the truth of the words of Christ, "this is life eter-
nal, to know the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom
he hath sent." And now, Christian, do you want eter-waited an interview.
nal life enough to seek it with all your heart? Will
you now enter into a solemn covenant with your own
soul, that you will never rest, until you have a full and
rich experience of that knowledge of God, which is
eternal life? Say, will you?




In the early part of the fifteenth century, that vigorous and able monarch, Henry V, of England, having conquered the greater part of France, and married Catharine, daughter of Charles VI, was received at Paris as the future master of that kingdom. Death, however, cut short his schemes of ambition. But as his infant son, by Catharine, was heir to both kingdoms, he left his brother, the Duke of Bedford, regent|| of France during the minority of the prince, with directions that he should prosecute the war. Charles VI, of France, died about two months after, leaving what remained of his distracted kingdom to his son, Charles VII, a prince of no great capacity, but who possessed many amiable qualities. He was gay, profligate, and generous; sincere, affable, and condescending. His followers, therefore, seem to have been attached to his person and cause, though they had no great confidence in his abilities.

At this time, Rheims, the usual place of the coronal ceremonies, was in the hands of the English, and hence Charles had been crowned at Poictiers, in a remote part of the kingdom-a circumstance which was by no means agreeable to his people. Bedford, in the mean time, prosecuted his conquests with vigor; and having reduced almost every fortress on the north side of the Loire, and defeated the French at Verneuil, he next laid siege to Orleans, an important post, still in the hands of Charles, and the key to the whole country which acknowledged his authority.

The French king saw the necessity of resolutely maintaining this fortress, and threw into it all the strength that he could command. But Bedford, with his powerful resources, pushed the siege with so much vigor, that the King gave over the city for lost, and seriously meditated retiring, with what forces he could collect, into Languedoc and Dauphiny, and maintaining himself as long as possible in these distant provinces. On breaking the matter to his queen, however, and to his fair friend, the beautiful Agnes Soreille, they dissuaded him from his purpose, and induced him to make another effort for the salvation of his kingdom.

"Is she a mendicant?" quoth the King.

"Nay, sire, but a maiden of comely face, of fair proportions and gentle manners, though she bears herself somewhat loftily."

"Is she alone?" again inquired the King.

"She comes," replied the nobleman in waiting, "with a few acquaintances, and hath made her way through the enemy's posts, from Lorraine, one hundred and fifty leagues. She hath, beside, a word of commendation from Baudricourt, governor of Vaucouleurs, and declines to declare her mission to any but the King."

"The proud huzzy!" mused Charles, his curiosity evidently excited to the utmost: "we must humble these arrogant pretensions of our fair subjects. Inform her that we are employed on business of state, and cannot give her audience."

The attendant knew the humor of his master, and proceeded: "Nay, your majesty must not treat her so rudely. She is the beautiful Joan d'Arc, the prophetess who communes with saints and angels, and comes to your majesty with a message from heaven."

"Ha!" exclaimed the King, starting from his seat, "bid her enter! We will hear her heavenly tidings." In another moment the maiden stood before the King; and if he had felt aught of carelessness or levity at her novel pretensions, the feeling was soon dispelled. She was not decked in the ordinary adornings of her sex, but was clad in an armor of linked mail, from which the helmet was alone removed, disclosing a face of extraordinary beauty, glowing with health, and beaming with inspiration. She was apparently about nineteen years of age-her dark locks hung carelessly around her steel-clad shoulders-her eye was large and soft, and fell at once upon the manly proportions of the King; and as she advanced without hesitation or fear, or even the usual bow to recognize the royal presence, she seemed, to the astonished monarch, like a being from another world. For some moments no word was uttered. The maiden at length broke silence.

"I come," said she, "not in the strength of steel, or of mere earthly wisdom, but mailed in the panoply of righteousness and truth. My credentials are from heaven-my commission from the Lord God omnipotent. The arm of a woman, though in itself as feeble as the trembling reed, is, in the strength of Jehovah, mighty to deliver, and strong to save. Know, then, thou anointed of the Lord, that if thou wilt trust thine armies to my guidance, and wilt follow the counsel of the poor and friendless Joan, she will assuredly raise the seige of Orleans, and thence conduct thee to Rheims, to be crowned like thy fathers, and acknowledged by this whole nation King of France."



The monarch, astonished beyond measure by the ap- aloft her consecrated banner, continued to be the chief pearance, the boldness, and the apparent sincerity of attraction for every eye. She was received as a celesthe girl, and probably half inclined to credit her celestial deliverer by the governor and his half famished peotial mission, listened to her whole story with the most respectful attention. He afterwards convoked an assembly of learned divines, who, on a full examination, indorsed her sacred pretensions, and declared that she had been raised up to deliver the French nation from her foreign invaders; and with this sanction, the King and court, soldiers and people, gave themselves up to this strange infatuation.

The pretensions of the fair Joan, having been thus recognized by the court, and her services accepted, she was furnished with a new and splendid suit of armor, mounted on a white steed, and having been provided with a particular sword, which she had desired, from the church of St. Catharine, she presented herself before the army bearing in her hand a banner of snowy whiteness, and was hailed with enthusiastic acclamations as the chosen deliverer of her country.

The fair Maid of Orleans, as she was afterwards called, was now in the full blush of her youth and beauty.* She was the daughter of a peasant, without advantages or education; but having served as a menial at a public tavern, and, unlike the majority of her sex, fond of active sports and manly exercises, she had acquired a skillful use of the rein, and managed her noble steed with a grace and dexterity which seemed altogether incompatible with her sex and years. She had imbibed a strong passion for sacred things in her youth, and was often found wandering in the forest, where she retired to commune in secret with her own spirit, and where, according to her own statement, she held communion with the archangel Michael, the angel Gabriel, St. Catharine, and St. Margaret. She was, doubtless, a full believer in the divine character of her mission, and hence undertook it with confidence, and conducted it with spirit.

ple, and a rapid succession of brilliant exploits, approaching the character of miracle, followed. Nothing could withstand the impetuosity of the gallant maid and her enthusiastic troops, who, in following her standard, were infatuated with the belief that they were aided by the invincible might of Heaven. She completely overcame the English in several desperate attacks, and on the 8th of May they raised the siege, and retired in terror and confusion.

Thus was fulfilled one part of her strange promisethe remainder was comparatively easy. The people now flocked to her standard from every quarter, and she pressed the monarch to follow her immediately to Rheims. This city was in a distant part of the country, was in the hand of the enemy, and the road to it garrisoned by strong bodies of British troops. To undertake a journey thither would, therefore, a few weeks before, have appeared like madness. But as things had now turned, the King did not hesitate, but prepared to follow his adventurous leader. He accordingly set out at the head of twelve thousand men, and met the enemy at Patay, where the army, still under the command of the Maid of Orleans, won a decided victory. Two thousand five hundred of the English were left dead on the field, and twelve hundred taken prisoners, among whom was the English commander, the brave and able Talbot. From this time town after town opened their gates to the invincible and warlike maiden; and the King, as he progressed, scarcely perceived that he was passing through an enemy's country, till, on the 16th of July, about two months after her success at Orleans, and nearly five months after her first appearance before Charles, at Chinon, she planted her standard on the battlements of Rheims.

The following day was devoted to festivity and joy. Having thus inspired all classes with the certainty A vast assemblage of people was convened-the bells of her success, she seized upon the moment of enthu-were rung-banners floated in the air on every side— siasm, and placing herself at the head of a convoy of triumphal arches were reared, and long processions troops, bearing provisions to the famished garrison, she swept through the streets, accompanied by strains of dashed forward to the beleaguered city. But rapid as martial music, and bursts of enthusiastic rapture. In were her movements, the strange story of her life had these joyous exhibitions the Maid of Orleans bore a gone before her, and in an age of superstition had pro-conspicuous part. She is represented as having manduced its natural effects. The English who at first af-aged her milk-white steed with even more than her acfected to speak in derision of Joan's heavenly commission, were really confounded, if not terrified, by the strong persuasion which everywhere prevailed of its truth, and thus half vanquished by their own fears, were the more ready to give way before her impetuous charge.

She entered the city with a pomp becoming her assumed character. Before her was borne the standard of the King, and around her were the nobles whose enthusiasm she had most inspired; but her own person, as she gracefully sat on her noble war horse, and held

customed grace and to have borne herself with a dignity suited to the important place she occupied in the eyes of the people. By her direction the King was conducted with great pomp and circumstance to the Cathedral, where the coronation of a long line of his predecessors had been celebrated, and there crowned in all due form, with the solemn ceremonies of the church, and anointed with holy oil, brought, according to one author, by a pigeon from heaven to Clovis, the first King of France.

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'Having now," says one of our authorities, “fulfilled her mission, she petitioned her royal master for lib* Our authorities differ as to her age. One account repre-erty to leave his court, and return to the quiet and obsents her as born in 1401, another in 1410, and a third in 1412. | scurity of her native village, and her former condition.



Charles' entreaties and commands unfortunately pre- "On this, Noah addressed the Supreme Being, and vailed upon her to forego this resolution. Honors were was enjoined to close with their proposal, and rest satlavishly bestowed upon her-a medal was struck in isfied; which he instantly obeyed. When the ark was celebration of her achievements, and letters of nobility finished, they called on Noah to fulfill his part of the were granted to herself and every member of her family. agreement, when he again called upon God, petitioning Many gallant and successful exploits illustrate her sub-for his direction, and was ordered to procure the young sequent history; but these we cannot stop to enumerate. of the four following animals, one of each kind, a feHer end was lamentable, indelibly disgraceful to Eng-male, and make them fast in the four corners of the land, and scarcely less so to France.

ark; a dog, a cat, an ass, and a monkey, and in the
centre of them to seat his daughter on the book of the
word of God, and that in the course of one night the
four animals should be changed into form, feature, and
in all respects the exact resemblance of his daughter.
"These metamorphoses having taken place accord-

"On the 24th of May, 1430, while heroically fighting against the army of the Duke of Burgundy, under the walls of Compeigne, she was shamefully shut out from the city which she was defending, through the contrivance of the governor; and being left alone, was, after performing prodigies of valor, compelled to sur-ingly, Noah presented them instead of his daughter, to render to the enemy. John, of Luxemburg, into whose hands she fell, sometime after sold her for a sum of ten thousand livres to the Duke of Bedford. She was then brought to Rouen and tried on an accusation of sorcery. The contrivances which were resorted to in order to procure evidence of her guilt, exhibit a course of proceedings as cruel and infamous as any recorded in the annals of judicial iniquity; and on the 30th of May, 1431, she was sentenced to be burnt at the stake.

“During all this time no attempt had been made by the ungrateful and worthless prince, whom she had restored to a throne, to effect her liberation. In the midst of her calamities, the feminine softness of her nature resumed its sway, and she pleaded hard that she might be allowed to live. But her protestations and entreaties were alike in vain. On the following day the horrid sentence was carried into execution in the market place of Rouen, and the poor, unhappy victim died courageously and nobly as she had lived, a martyr to her delusions."

ད ྂ 3ར་

the builders of the vessel. By some untoward circumstance or other, however, these deluded workmen began to be suspicious, and accusing Noah of witchcraft, went in a body, and by way of revenge, in a manner too vile to be named, defiled the goodly work of their hands.

"Noah again had recourse to divine assistance, which causing a pestilential wind to blow, all who had been instrumental in the beastly deed, were instantly afflicted, some with blindness, others with deafness, others with lameness; in short, among them were liberally dispensed all the ills of the famed box of Pandora.

"At length, a leper, but not of those so punished for defiling the ark, accidentally fell into the midst of the gulf, when (wonderful to relate) he came out again perfectly cured of every symptom of his lothsome disease. The consequence of this was, that every diseased person to whose knowledge this surprising system of cure of bodily ills had come, thronged to the polluted ark; so that in a short time not only all the filth was cleanly licked up, but even the beams and planks were scraped, to the loss of three or four inches of their original subINDIAN ACCOUNT OF THE DELUGE. stance; their labor was not lost, one and all were healed. THE following account of the general deluge, was "Noah then heard the voice from heaven, crying, taken from the mouth of the chief Faquir, at the sup-Behold now the ark is purified, assemble forthwith, of posed tomb of Noah, in the vicinity of the ancient city of Oude, in the province of Hindostan, Dec. 14, 1797. The translator observes, that the fidelity of the translation may be depended upon, except in one or two instances, where a regard to delicacy compelled his departure from the exact letter: in one of them, where he has borrowed his expression from the heathen mythology, he is conscious that he has subjected himself to critical animadversion; but for this inaccuracy, his motive will, he trusts, form a sufficient apology.

"In the days of Noah, men were become so wicked, as totally to neglect the worship of the true God-when an almond shell fell from heaven, accompanied with a voice, directing Noah to form an ark after its shape, the length of which should be 11,000 yards; this model, Noah carried to four workmen, a worker in iron, a hewer, fashioner, and carrier of wood, and desired them to make the ark; they gave him in answer, that on no other terms than his giving them his daughter, on the completion of the job, would they undertake it.

all the animals which I have made, of each kind one pair, and shut them up in the ark; choose also of men the most upright which the world affords, forty of each sex, and with them and thy wives and thy children ascend the ark; for I will send water upon the earth, and every living thing thereon shall perish.'

"As the voice predicted, so it fell out-the water rose first from an old woman's oven, which, with that from above, lasting in all six months, destroyed every living creature upon the earth, except one old woman, who believing in God, had begged of Noah to take her also into his boat; but in the hurry he it seems forgot and left her, but not to destruction; for the Almighty loving her for her faith, placed her upon an aggregation of foam caused by the gurgitation of the water, and defending by his power, saved her from the universal wreck.

"The ark landed first at Carbelah, from whence Noah floated on a part of it to this place, about 6,500 years ago. "The tomb is 17 yards in length.”—Imperial Magazine.

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derness she feels is exercised with prudence or not. It OF A PASTOR AT THE ANNUAL MEETING OF THE MATERNAL may be the same if manifested by overweening, culpa


"And her children arise up and call her blessed," Proverbs xxxi, 29.

ble indulgence.

But simple maternal fondness is not all that attaches a blessedness to the name of mother-that blessedness of which Solomon speaks. It is a small part of a mothIn this chapter the portrait of female perfection is er's duty simply to love her children, or to excite in penciled by a master-hand. Solomon here sketched their hearts simple filial affection. Much else has she the outline of an ensample, addressing itself to the to do to make her name and memory truly blessed. heart and taste of all-inviting imitation. He de- Neither is that common protection which maternal scribes "the wife," and gives a single touch, that we || love instinctively extends to the child-to feed and may look upon her as a mother to the children of her clothe, and supply its physical wants, to cherish when husband. It is but a word; yet brief as his language well, to nurse when sick-this is not all; although this is, it implies volumes. No additional language can is sufficient to enstamp a mother's image indelibly upon strengthen or give greater force to it. "Her children the heart, yet it is not her whole duty. These things arise up and call her blessed." To say this, to say ought she to do, but not leave the others undone. the most that words can express of the virtues of a mother. That cluster of graces that throws a sacredness around the memory of one that nurtured us, is more to be envied than the crown of Victoria. For it is a token that she has faithfully discharged her duty in her appropriate sphere.

In setting the "solitary in families," God appointed the mother to the most arduous and responsible station: and in faithfully fulfilling the charge, she is the centre from which radiates all that renders home the loved spot of earth. While she lives, she gladdens many hearts; and when she is gone, blessed is her memory. She is followed to the tomb by the saddest procession of mourners. Yes, when she carefully walks in the paths of her allotment, "her husband praiseth her, and her children arise up and call her blessed."

What panegyric more noble than that? far better than to say of her that she sat upon thrones and ruled


Again. I ask, what is the duty to which a mother should devote her energies, that her name may be blessed?

I. It is to prepare her child, by careful training in early life, for the trials, the cares, hardships, realities of subsequent life. Childhood is a period of probation, not only for eternity, but for after years of earthly existence; and such is the relation that childhood holds to maturer life, that not only the usefulness and the respectability of manhood eminently depends upon early culture and discipline, but personal happiness and content depends much upon the molding of the disposi tions, inclinations and prejudices, by a mother's hand.

We are all destined to live in a world of wants, where the laws of the land or of common life can guaranty no provision for our necessities but what results from daily industry. We must live by the "sweat of the brow." Liable to a thousand daily accidents, the time hastens on when fathers and mothers molder in the dust; the paternal roof crumbles, or strangers come

how many leave no legacy but their memory; and those now helpless in childhood, ignorant of want or toil, will be called to meet face to face with the harsh realities of life wholly unprepared. The mother's hand may prepare the child for any event or contingency of this kind; and on the other hand, her remissness or illdirected tenderness may throw them in contact with strangers and the world, as the petted nestling meets the winter's blast.

But, I address myself to the mother. Most present are happy in being addressed by this significant title-in to occupy-patrimony is scattered and gone. And are rejoicing that God's providence has called them to discharge the duties of the relation, however unqualified in their own estimation, for the station. Notwithstanding the consciousness of incompetency a mother may desire to rear her offspring in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; still she too often feels pride as well as fondness when she looks upon her childrenwhen she meets so many eyes turned to her for protection, and comfort, and counsel, in all the unwavering confidence of childhood; and if she be a Christian mother, the burden of her daily prayer is for wisdom and discretion in the duties of her sphere. To give just occasion for her children to rise up and call her blessed, is the praiseworthy object of her toil, her study, her self-denial, and her prayers.

A mother's duty is to train her child for real life— to prepare it for reality, without subjecting it to certain disappointment. If rightly instructed, and subjected to proper discipline-to self-denial-to hardships adapted to its years-and taught what is to be encountered in future life; then will children grow up to manhoodto woman's estate, and as they traverse this world of cares "they will call their mothers blessed."

How many have I seen made to themselves misera

What is it that attaches blessedness to the memory and name of mother? There is much. Every thing conspires to make a mother dear to those she has nurtured and trained. Maternal fondness ever manifest-ble, and unpleasant to all around, solely on account of ing itself-caresses, and those thousand kindnesses that none but a mother knows how to evince-these together entwine a strong chord, binding the whole family to its maternal head; and this whether the love and ten

neglect in childhood, chargeable to a mother's overweening, culpable fondness. It is the greatest unkindness to a child to neglect in this respect its early culture.

With this as preliminary, I present the following


points of attention, and leave them for you to expand, and carry them out in their application to the subject: In training children as probationers for temporal existence,

1. Exercise over the child absolute authority, and the power of absolute restraint. It was not without reason that Jeremiah said, "It is well for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth."

2. Inculcate the virtue of self-restraint.

3. Accustom a child to labor and privation adapted to its years.

4. Suppress pride, and all the various passions. The earthly curse of thousands is a pride fostered by a mother's hands in childhood.

5. Excite a laudable ambition for usefulness and independence.

If a mother desire to throw a blessedness around her memory, let her,

II. Train her children as probationers for the world which is to come.

This the ultimate end in view, when God commits precious souls to a mother's charge. For this he clothes a mother with influence unbounded, and creates the child docile and tender. But here I need not dwell, for these thoughts have been made familiar to you all by frequent repetition.

The father is the protector. He tills the land, fights the battles, and gives himself up to the rougher con. cerns of life; while the mother sits at the cradle, rules in the nursery: and upon her it especially devolves to prepare the little son to take its father's place-to rear the daughters to fill the place vacated by a mother's death-to prepare the next generation to enter upon the stage when this shall have been swept away and forgotten. When this is faithfully done, then shall each generation rise up and call the mothers of the past


But as the Christian instructor, the mother acts for eternity. She preaches the Gospel where even an apostle cannot enter. When faithful here, saints in glory, redeemed by her prayers and her instructions, "shall rise up and call her blessed."-Mother's Magazine.





CONNECTICUT! thy rolling shore

Is fading fast away,

And thou shalt greet my sight no more, For many a weary day.

The glistening waves are dashing high,
Our gallant boat beside,

But calm and pure the azure sky,
And softly on we glide.
Connecticut! thy name hath power
To call my thoughts all home,

When in an over anxious hour,
They o'er the future roam;
Then forth steps busy memory,

From dreamy past upspringing,
And visions light of days gone by
She evermore is bringing.

The voices of the friends I loved
Are ringing in my ear-

The faithful ones whom time has proved,
In seeming now are near;
The hills around my youthful home

Upon my fancy seize;

But tones of woe and wailing come,
Borne on the fitful breeze.

Pale death hath taken one by one,

And time a change hath wrought,
Till those who wept, must weep alone,
And those who smiled, smile not:
The lonely grave hath claimed a boon
From many a sorrowing one;
And such will joy to know that soon
Their work on earth is done.

Connecticut! one long farewell
Unto thy sunny shore;

But soon above where angels dwell,

Thy lost ones part no more: As thy fair hills are fading fast,

A brighter land appears; So may it be with us at last, Beyond this vale of tears.

THE STRUGGLE. Mock not with proffered sympathy

Such agony as this;

Seek not to soothe with love's kind words,
Affection's tear or kiss:

Thou might'st assuage a common grief-
A lighter sorrow share;
But, O! such bitterness of heart

One, only one must bear;
"Twere almost bliss to grieve, and feel
That love might bear a part;

Alas, such bliss ne'er mingles with

Such bitterness of heart!

Then leave, O leave the stricken heart

To agony and tears

To sorrow o'er its baffled hopes,

And battle with its fears:

For such a heart earth hath no balm-
For such it hath no cure-

Leave it to wonder at the past,

To live, and yet endure!
Leave it! perchance it yet may turn,
When every tie is riven,

And hap❜ly find repose at last
In faith, and hope, and heaven!


M. R. K.

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