THE COMELINESS OF PIETY. Original. THE COMELINESS OF PIETY. Ir was the morning of the Sabbath. Nature smiling in her richest verdure, was spread out in greater tranquility and beauty on this holy day. The dew had not yet fled from the bosom of the rose, nor the lark ceased his caroling in the heavens, when I rose to inhale the freshness of the dawn. Passing near a copse that was almost concealed by the lofty trees that stood near it, I thought I heard a voice; and listening, my ear caught the broken words and sighs of one who appeared to be in earnest supplication. The stillness of the hour, the beauty of the spot, and the hallowed serenity of the day, combined to render the scene interesting. I was awed, and feared to move or breathe, lest I should intrude upon the devotions of one who, withdrawn from the world, sought communion with Heaven. Presently an exclamation burst from the lip of the worshiper, "My Father, if it be thy will, let this cup pass from me;" and I recognized the voice of one whom I had known from childhood. 309 strength might not fail, nor her faith waver; that in meekness she might bow to the mysterious dispensation of Providence, and that, when done acting and suffering the will of her Father in heaven, she might calmly pass from earth to join the glorified spirit of her sainted son. She rose to depart. I had seen beauty, as I thought, a thousand times-the beauty of the young and fair-the charm of smiling infancy, and the more touching loveliness of riper years; but never had I gazed upon a face so affecting in its expression. A sublimity of thought was seated in her eye as she raised it to heaven, in the confidence of living faith-a feeling of high and holy tranquility, such as nought but a divine influence can bestow. My heart was moved. Whose would not have melted at the sight? Soon after I went to inquire if the widow's son yet lived, hoping, in my unbelief, that the pious mother might still be spared this sacrifice of her soul's treasure. A sympathizing neighbor informed me that recovery was no longer anticipated, that the mother was then supporting him in her arms, and exhorting him to look to the Savior, and to fear no evil-to feel that the valley would be cheerful to him-that the light from the upper world would beam all along its gloomy windings, until he should emerge into holy radiance. And it was so. As he calmly sunk into the arms of the king of terrors, there was a serenity on his brow-a look of unutterable peacefulness, nay, even of triumph in his sunken eye; and all who beheld, gazed solemnly and intensely, as upon the face of an angel. The mother looked, until it seemed that her own spirit was fluttering to wing its flight upward with the spirit of A widow was she, with an only son, who had long been her all of earthly comfort-her stay in the deep afflictions of her bereaved, disconsolate state. That son now lay on the verge of the grave, prostrated by a sudden and fearful disease. The physician had just told her there was no hope; and groaning in spirit, she had retired to pour forth, where no eye, save that of Omniscience could see her, such anguish as the heart of a widowed mother only can know. She prayed long and fervently. Not in studied words and phrases did her burdened soul send up its petitions to the throne of the Almighty-she knew nothing of polished peri-her beloved. ods or graceful expressions-but long had she known This was the triumph of faith-the victory of the the language of prayer-well did she understand the Gospel of the Son of God. O, who would exchange exclamations that would move a Savior's heart. its sublime realities for the vagaries of unbelief-its Now she bowed in the simplicity and fervor of a supporting influence for any system of heartless philosheart that might not be denied-she prayed for her son.ophy-the glowing confidence, the perfect, heart-felt A momentary shade passed over her face as she repeated his name. The heaving of her bosom betrayed deep emotion, and she uttered almost wildly, "O, my son, would that I could die for thee! If thou must die, would that, worn down with sorrow, I might descend with thee to the grave!" trust of the living believer for the feeble hope, the doubt or despair of the formal Christian! Who would not exult in the hope of that Gospel by which life and immortality are brought to light! That widow shall embrace her son-she shall again behold him-but O how changed! When next she gazes, corruption shall have She seemed exhausted by the violence of her feel- put on incorruption—a divine glory will have settled ings, but still her lips moved, when suddenly her coun- on his brow-beatific rapture will beam from his eyetenance changed. The expression of deep grief that the song of the just made perfect will break from a but an instant before rested there, passed away; a sweet tongue never more to be stilled in death; and a mother serenity overspread her care-worn features, and a smile and son, rejoicing together in bliss unutterable, shall calm, though sad, lit up her face. Grace had conquer-swell the chorus of the redeemed, to Him that hath ed-all was resignation in her soul, as she now mur-loved us be glory and praise for ever! mured, "Not my will, but thine, O Lord, be done!" In a subdued but unfaltering voice, she then implored that the everlasting arms might be beneath and around him who was so soon to be taken from her embrace, that the blessed Jesus might smooth his pillow, and make all his bed in his sickness, and that when the last hour should come, the angel of the covenant might stand ready to conduct him through the vale. She prayed for herself, that in this last bitter trial her ནས ཏེ ཐ་་་་- SOPHIA. “OUR preparation for heaven by a holy life and heavenly temper of mind and conduct of life, is the fairest and most uncontested evidence of the truth and life of our faith, and such a proof of it as will stand the test both in life and death in this world, and in the world to come."-Dr. Watts. 310 Original. REV. GEORGE G. COOKMAN. REV. GEORGE G. COOKMAN. The following communication regards a Christian minister of so many and such fair virtues, that we doubt not it will deeply interest our readers. There are not many in the land, in whom vigor of intellect and unaffected piety were so happily blended. It will be recollected that no certain intelligence has yet been received of the steam ship President, in which Mr. eight or nine inches. He had not reached the meridian of life. There was nothing remarkable in his appearance. His countenance gave no strong indication of the power he possessed. His forehead was low, his head not large; and although his eye was expressive, and his mouth showed acuteness, there was little to be seen in his face of the soul that was within him. His Cookman was lost. Probably, however, the scene sketched by dress conformed to the simplicity of Methodism. the writer's fancy at the close of this article is substantially true to facts.-ED. No one could hear Mr. Cookman read his hymn or a chapter in the Bible, at the commencement of his service, without feeling that he was no ordinary man. THERE seems now to be little doubt that Mr. Cook-It is indeed a rare thing to meet with a good reader in man and his fellow passengers, on board the President, the pulpit; and it is matter of astonishment that this have been lost. This is a mysterious Providence. We admirable attainment is not more common. You might cannot comprehend it. But in this regard it is not sin- have read the chapter or the hymn a thousand times, gular. How little do we know of the dealings of Prov- and yet to hear it read by Mr. Cookman would give it idence! We see his footsteps, but they are often in the a freshness, a beauty and power, of which you had deep. That they are taken in wisdom we do not doubt; || never been fully sensible. His prayer was fervid, and and we must wait until he shall become his own inter- characterized by dependence and faith. His language preter in the day of eternity. His dealings with us would sometimes approach to familiarity, but never unwill then be explained and understood. We shall then mingled with the deepest reverence. see that wisdom and mercy have been in all his ways. The Church will feel, deeply feel the loss of this eminent and pious minister. Speaking after the manner of men, his place cannot be supplied. He filled a broad space in the Church and in the public esteem. His talents were so diversified, his manner so peculiar, and his eloquence so extraordinary, that it is not probable his superior will soon appear. Without going out of the Church to which Mr. Cookman belonged, ministers may be found who excelled him in talent and acquirement-men of a stronger grasp and of a more comprehensive judgment; but in the faculty of arresting the attention of his auditors, and giving the deepest interest to his subject, he was unsurpassed. It was said that Mr. Cookman acquired his reputation for eloquence chiefly at Washington City, where he was stationed two years, and at Alexandria, where he labored one year. Two years of this time he acted as Chaplain to Congress. That his reputation was greatly increased by his labors in this important and trying station, may be admitted; but his merits prior to this time may not have been impartially considered. However this may be, at Washington City, and as Chaplain to Congress, he made a stronger impression than had been made by any other man. Whether he preached in the chapel or in the hall of the House of Representatives, it was crowded with hearers, without regard to the inclemency of the weather. He was heard by the learned and the unlearned. The profoundest statesmen, jurists, and orators were found in his congregations-men who could not be carried away by the tricks of oratory, or a superficial view of the subjects he discussed. And they heard him with increasing interest. The hall of the House was as much crowded the last sermon he preached there as it had been at any former time. In person Mr. Cookman was below the middle size. He was slender, and in height did not exceed five feet His text taken, Mr. Cookman was never long in reaching the body of his discourse. Long introductions are seldom interesting or useful. The text might be one with which his hearers were most familiar, and which they had often heard discussed. But not only the reading of it gave it a new aspect, but the mode of its illustration and enforcement was also new. There was nothing hackneyed nor common in his sermons. While method was not neglected, it was not regarded as the chief merit of the discourse. The rein was somewhat slackened, and the inspiration of the moment led the speaker onward and upward; and he never failed to carry his hearers along with him. Mr. Cookman had a fondness for figurative language. But his figures were animated beings full of life and power. At his call they clustered around him, ready to do his bidding. In imagination you could see their forms and hear them breathe. They were the instruments of mercy or of vengeance to the children of men. Who that heard him can ever forget, in one of his last sermons in the Capitol, an apostrophe as eloquent as ever fell from the lips of man? His subject was the mercy of God. He brought before his hearers, in the strongest light, the disorder and crime of a ruined world. Its beauty had been marred by sin. Man sought the life of his fellow. Desolation and death marked the course of ambition and revenge. Rapine and murder prevailed. Disease, suffering and death covered the earth. They were the common inheritance of all. The voice of mourning and sorrow was heard. Despair found a habitation on earth. Many with eyes and hearts uplifted sought consolation from on high. He stopped as though by some sudden impulse, and lifting his eyes to heaven, he saw the angel of mercy, as a comforter, descending from above. She was clothed in white; her form was heavenly, and in her countenance shone forth the godlike attributes of love and compassion. A halo of glory was around her. You saw her descending, and was enraptured REV. GEORGE G. COOKMAN. 311 From the ocean he drew much of his richest imagery. with her loveliness and divinity. Passing by the great and honorable of the earth, she came to the cottages of|| A senator, distinguished for his eloquence, and who was the poor and the afflicted, and bound up the broken hearted. She knocked for entrance at the hearts of the weary and heavy laden, but she was no obtruder. She must be made welcome before she entered, and she remained no longer than she was treated with the respect due to her heavenly origin. I can give not even a faint outline of this beautiful figure. Nor do I believe that any pen can give it. It was the inspiration of the moment, and could only have been produced by such an inspiration. On one occasion I heard him speak of the hand-writing on the wall. You saw before you Belshazzar and his guests, and the luxuries of Babylon; and you heard the voice of mirth and revelry. Of a sudden there was a pause—a pause portentous of some awful event. Full of the subject and of the conception, a feeling of awe came over the preacher and the congregation. There was not one in the assembly, perhaps, || who had not read the story a hundred times, yet all seemed to await the announcement of it, with painful suspense. At length, in slow and tremulous accents, you were pointed to the hand and the writing on the wall. The effect was awful. On another occasion I heard him speak of Paul at Athens. The apostle was on Mars' hill. The philosophers, orators and great men of Athens were before him. Armed with the panoply of the Gospel this bold and unflinching apostle met the dread array. He pointed his weapon against the concentrated prejudices of this learned and great nation with so much skill and effect, that, accompanied by the power of God, like the force of electricity, it produced a terrible shock to his adversaries, and secured a triumph over them. himself fond of illustrations from the same source, after hearing Mr. Cookman, observed, "He has discouraged me in the use of my happiest figures. There is such a richness, beauty, and force in his illustrations from the ocean, so far surpassing my reach, that I know not that I shall ever again attempt to use them." One day, in his sermon he was speaking of death. "It is," said he, "often compared to a vessel that has been long tossed upon the ocean, and at length overtaken by a storm, its sails torn, its seams opening, by the violence of the waves it is at last thrown into port, a perfect wreck. I do not like the figure," said he; "that is not death. No. It is a vessel upon the stocks, newly built, and complete in all its parts, its sails unfurled-the braces being knocked away, it glides majestically and gloriously into the bosom of the ocean. This is death. It is the escape of the soul from the ills of life to its own placid eternity." No one who heard him, can ever forget his address at the conclusion of his sermon to those who had heard him, perhaps, for the last time. Congress was to adjourn the next day. He expressed his gratitude to Heaven for the respect that had been paid to the Gospel by the attendance, at that place, of so many distinguished strangers. He told them that he had endeavored to warn them faithfully, and he was encouraged with the hope that his labor had not been altogether in vain. As the minister of Christ he felt himself authorized to propound to them, for the last time, some serious questions-questions of the last import, and which he hoped they would not readily forget. He would inquire of each, as a traveler to eternity, whither goest thou? Art thou in the pursuit of science? Art Mr. C. was less distinguished by his reasoning powers, thou endeavoring, by labor night and day, to climb her than by his power of combination and description. His rugged steeps? I tell you that an increase of knowlmanner was eminently dramatic, without the smallest edge will give no increase of happiness. Traveler, degree of affectation. He would have made an eminent whither goest thou? Art thou in the pursuit of fame? actor in tragedy, had he chosen the stage for his profes-Art thou endeavoring, by unwearied effort, to inscribe sion. A distinguished gentleman observed to the wri-thy name highest on her column? I tell you that the ter, after hearing him preach, that he would make a tra-foundation of that column is this earth, and that the gedian of the first order, and that he should like to hear time will come when this earth shall reel to and fro, as him act Macbeth. But there was nothing of the actor a drunken man, and pass away for ever. Traveler, about him. He was full of his subject-of the meek-whither goest thou? Art thou in the pursuit of hapness, simplicity, and power of the Gospel, and his man-piness? Dost thou seek it in the painted bowers of ner was the action of nature. It was, I admit, excited pleasure? I tell you there is a serpent there which nature; but it was an excitement the most noble and will sting you to death. elevated of which human nature is susceptible. Hearing of the fate of this distinguished and pious Until roused, Mr. Cookman's mind did not, and indeed man, I was irresistibly led to think of his frequent and could not put forth its energies. But when excited, its awful appeals to the loss of the Lexington, immediaterange seemed to be without limit. He explored the ly after that dreadful catastrophe. It seemed to dwell works of nature, and unfolded their richest beauties. much upon his mind, and reference to it never failed to On the truths of the Gospel and the triumphs of grace, produce a thrilling effect on his hearers. Little did he he showed great power. When his subject required it, think that a catastrophe scarcely less terrible, on the his art of persuasion was as soft and as sweet as the same element, should so soon terminate his own life. music of the spheres. But he could portray with aw-In imagination, I see the fated vessel upon the surges ful grandeur and effect the terrors of Sinai. The storm of the deep, at the hour of midnight. The storm has of his eloquence in burning words fell upon the sinner lasted for many hours-it is now at its height. The and filled him with dismay. blackness of darkness covers the heavens-rendered more horrible by the liquid fire that shoots across the || "sweet influences of Pleiades, and looseth the bands dreadful abyss-the waves in wildest fury dashing over of Orion." It was a little harbinger of the season, the sinking vessel. I see the pious Cookman on his which seemed to say, Lo! the winter is past, the snow knees, in the cabin, with his heart uplifted in mighty is over and gone, the flowers appear on the earth, the prayer, and his fellow passengers prostrate around him, time of the singing of birds is come, the forests have also praying. O, God! who can comprehend the aw- put on their livery of green, and the voice of the turfulness of this hour. Into this narrow space is crowded tle is heard in the land. As I sat gazing upon it I was all that is grand and terrific in nature-all that is im- reminded that God's care for us is more constant and portant in life and in death; and all the realities of eter- || peculiar than ours could be for a favorite plant; that nity. There is no hope but in God. The parting the principles of virtue, which are implanted in the waves open a mighty chasm. The vessel is ingulfed. heart of every individual, are watched by his benevoThe voice of prayer and the pulse of life cease. lent mind with great solicitude, that they may obtain PHILANDER. maturity of growth, and yield wholesome and refreshing fruits. He waters the soul with the dews of divine grace, and directs upon it the vivifying rays of the Sun of righteousness. He nurtures it with his gracious influences, and contemplates with delight every new development of moral excellence. Original. MY HYACINTH. BY MISS RAYMOND. -- WHEN man was first created, he was placed in a garden to "dress and to keep it." The cultivation of plants seems to have been an occupation perfectly adapted to the promotion of his happiness in his primitive state of innocence. God is seen in his providences, the earth, the spacious firmament; but is equally visible in the spire of grass, the tender plant, and the opening flower. He is exhibited in his most beautiful and benign aspect in the vegetable world; and his goodness is no less conspicuous in giving to man a mind to receive impressions from these diversified glories. The requisites for reflection and peace are found in a single plant; and cold and dead must be the susceptibilities of that heart that is not alive to the beauties of nature. In the natural world, some plants are so delicate and tender, that one rude blast would be sufficient to sever them from the stalk, were they not placed in situations to be shielded from the tempest; while the storm may gather and burst on those that are less fragile without harm. They may feel it for a moment, their leaves may be shaken, and petals droop, but from their own elastic vigor, they soon recover themselves, and look as gay and as beautiful as ever. Thus in the spiritual world, to some God has given strong, elastic minds, which no adverse circumstances will long discompose. They may be tossed on life's tempestuous sea, and suffer the shock of adversity; but they soon recover themselves and pursue their course as steadily as ever. The minds of others are of such a delicate texture, that one rude blast crushes them for ever, and they wither and die; but under the fostering hand of God, the most from the wind and the tempest, and be to them as "the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." He will hide them in his pavilion, and be their refuge and strength-their joy and song. Again I was reminded that soon the beauty of the plant would fade-it would droop and die, and nought but the germ would remain, covered by the cold earth. But it would not always remain thus. When the globe performs its annual revolution, and spring again returns, it will shoot forth with new life and beauty. So will it be with these forms of ours. However fair and blooming and valued they may now appear, soon, may be very soon, their beauty will fade, and they will In early spring, I had a plant growing in my win-feeble may retain spiritual life. He will shield them dow-one of Flora's delicate children. I nursed it carefully, and protected it from the frosty nights, chilly winds, and furious tempests. It was my delight to water and supply it with rich earth, from which it might extract its nutriment, and to see that no destructive worm found way to its roots. Under my fostering care it germinated, budded, and unfolded its bright petals, exhibiting its beauty, and yielding its fragrance to the delight of the beholder. Its blossoms were delicately beautiful, with colors finely shaded, suspended on a slender stock, supported by its long lanceolate leaves of a light green. The appearance of every new flower awakened new pleasure, and elicited new interest in its luxuriant growth. Still it was a delicate ex-be cold and silent in the grave. Flowers may bloom otic. It demanded care and attention. It needed to be exposed to the genial rays of the sun, and watered by the dews of heaven. Yet it amply repaid all care by the delight it yielded and the happiness it gave. It taught many a salutary lesson, dissipated many a gloomy cloud, and enlivened many an otherwise lonely hour. It was indeed as a dear and valued associate, in its sweet and peaceful influence. It reminded "And beauty immortal awake from the tomb," us that the dreary and frosty season of winter was and the soul will appear with powers enlarged, expandyielding to balmy spring, when God appointeth the led, and enter a state of complete felicity. over us, but they will delight us not-the seasons will pass in quick succession, but the varied beauties of summer, and frosts of winter will affect us not. Life is extinct, and our bodies are moldering to dust. But the archangel's trump shall sound-"spring will visit the moldering urn"-corruption will put on incorruption Original. A TOUR THROUGH INDIANA. A TOUR THROUGH INDIANA. Sin,-As you have solicited contributions to the Ladies' Repository, and intimated that incidents of travel, descriptions of natural scenery, with moral reflections, &c., will be acceptable, I herewith furnish you a few notes of a journey through the interior of Indiana to Lake Michigan, in the summer of ness. 313 them mechanical and agricultural arts; but these attempts, as in all other cases, must for ever prove unsuccessful unless preceded and followed up by the Gospel of peace. Thursday morning, I left D.'s tavern, where I had put up for the night. The morning was lowering, and the roads exceedingly slippery and uncomfortable, in consequence of a heavy shower of rain that had fallen during the night. For several miles I saw nothing worthy special notice, save the deep and thick forests that lay on either side of my way, with innumer every quarter upon me. But after the day advanced a little the weather became fine, and the whole prospect calm and exhilerating. I soon found myself in the midst of extensive alluvial prairies, interspersed with oak barrens, which truly present to the eye of the traveler, scenery the most unusual and indescribably picturesque. He might suppose himself passing through a country which for ages had been the abode of civilized man, and subject to the highest state of horticultural improvement. Here, for instance, stands before the imagination, as it were, the ancient residence of some English nobleman, with his gardens and foregrounds most beautifully arrayed and decorated with fantastic trees and shrubbery; anon, a beautiful village, or site of some ancient city, like Thadmor of the plain, will spring up before the imagination, through the vista of opening woods. But lo! this is all the enchantment of imagination; for here is naught but the wildness of nature where savages roam. I begin with Logansport. This is a flourishing town, situated just above the junction of the Wabash and Eel rivers, containing an estimated population of from 16 to 1800 inhabitants. Its streets, like most newable swarms of flies and musketoes that poured in from towns of rapid growth, are narrow, rough and dirty; though many of the buildings are neat and substantial, and the whole aspect of the town indicates that it is a place of considerable mechanical and commercial busiSteamboats of the smaller dimensions ascend the Wabash to this place, in the highest stages of water. Logansport, from its commercial advantages, by means of the Wabash river, the Wabash and Erie canal, which passes through it, affording hydraulic power to any desired extent, together with the vastness and fertility of its surrounding country, cannot fail soon to become a city distinguished for wealth and population. Resuming our journey from this place, we entered the Oak Barrens, about four or five miles north of Logansport, which extend mostly over the entire northern part of the state, as well as in many parts of the west and south. Though nature has withholden from these barrens that apparent richness of soil which abounds in many other parts of the state, yet it has amply compensated them in the beauty of their forests, the mag- We passed this day through Rochester, the countynificence of their prairies, and the enchanting prospect seat of Fulton county. At the northern extremity of of their variegated scenery, which spread far and wide this little village stands an old, double log cabin, in like Elysian fields before the eyes of the beholder. which, we were told, the once zealous and indefatigaThese were once the favorite retreats of the aboriginals ble, but now departed Armstrong, preached the Gospel of the country; nor can the lapse of years, nor the of peace in the latter days of his ministry. The sight cruel oppressions of white men, obliterate from their of this house brought to my mind reflections both pleashearts the remembrance of these paradisical scenes. ing and melancholy. There once stood, thought I, the Still they linger here, and love to look on that which is faithful and fearless preacher of righteousness. As a now no longer theirs. While musing this evening upon dying man to dying men he ministered the Gospel of these scenes, my sympathies were not a little touched peace. The listening audience heard, transported and upon meeting an Indian of the Miami tribe. There alarmed, his earnest message. The very spot seemed was a generous frankness and independence in his still to move with the life he usually imparted by his mien, and manly intelligence in his features, that at energetic ministry. But ah! where is he now? Gone once commanded my respect for him, and filled me with from the walls of Zion, his lips silent in the dust; feelings of regret for his unfortunate race. The Mi- and many of those, no doubt, who heard from him the amies were once a noble tribe of Indians, but are now Gospel of the Son of God in this rustic dwelling, have nearly extinct. Professing the Roman Catholic relig- also passed away to that eternal bourne whither we ion, which to them amounts to little more than a sys-all are journeying. May we be watchful, that like tem of frauds and solemn fooleries, without exerting our departed and venerable father in the ministry, we upon their hearts the power of godliness, they have con- may finish our course with joy, and finish the minissequently been the wretched dupes of avarice, and vic-try which we have received of the Lord Jesus to testify tims of drunkenness, disease, and assassination among the Gospel of the grace of God. About noon of this themselves. Their tribe is diminished to about seven day I arrived at Judge P.'s, on the Tippecanoe river, or eight hundred, and is annually becoming less by the where I dined. At table I had the honor to sit in causes above named. They inhabit a reservation of company with Nees-waugh-gee, a chief in the Potawatlands lying between Logansport and Fort Wayne, on omie tribe, a man of remarkably fine personal appearthe eastern side of the Wabash. Frequent attempts ance. From his external equipment I judged him to have been made to civilize them, by introducing among || be a distinguished military officer. He was well clad Vol. I.-40 |