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earth, will arouse him to a serious contemplation of the results of licentiousness.

The Christian reader will rejoice that she gave some evidence of being justified by faith, and hope that thousands now in the situation she was in in 1830, may die with prospects as fair for heaven. Nay, he will seriously inquire, Lord, can I be instrumental in plucking one of these sinners from hell? And he will seriously awake to the performance of his duty.

The widow, particularly if she is one who keeps boarders, will feel many an anxious thought pressing heavily on her heart, when she remembers the orphan, and looks at her beloved daughters, destitute of a father's protecting care. And then she will look to Him whose eye never slumbers or sleeps, for divine assistance, relying on his promise to be a husband to the widow, and a father to the fatherless, of all those confiding in the truth of his word.

Should the female orphan honor this tale with a reading, it will teach her that chastity is a jewel of which froward and false men may despoil her, under the hypocritical profession of ardent attachment. Let her learn, therefore, that it is not safe to tempt men to exceed the bounds of decorum. She may be sociable, yet modest and retiring. Ever distrustful of her native strength, let her continually cherish a flaming love of purity in her affections, and a burning hatred of vicious thoughts and actions. As on earth, so in the invisible world, purity is inseparably connected with pleasure, and impurity with misery. This is a fixed principle in morals, and is supported by observation and fact.

Moreover, let her be cautious in admitting to her friendship females whose character she does not know to be honorable, no matter what their apparent or real rank in society may be, lest some imp of a procuress, robed as an angel of light, spread an enchanting net, that will secure to her, in the end, the fate of the Newburgh orphan.

No. 10.

From the Boston Education Reporter.


We have intimated that people resident in the country have an interest in knowing what is done in the city. This is true not only of those young persons who are coming to seek their fortune among us, or those who are sending their children hither, but of those who abide at home. The danger may come to their own door; the snares of the wicked may be spread for them at their own fireside.


Some years ago, there were two gentlemen of Boston who lived in the frequent indulgence of illicit pleasures. Being able to command a choice of places and companions, they took whatever their hearts desired. One of them by some means had cast his eyeseyes full of adultery, which could not cease from sin❞—on a young and handsome girl, belonging to a quiet village within twenty miles of town; and he formed in his heart the base purpose of making her his prey. She was the daughter of poor parents, who, as well as herNo. I. JAN. 1832.


self, knew not how desperately wicked they can be who are sold to sin. The discovery which one had made was communicated to the other, and "hand joined in hand," to accomplish a deed of villany, the relation of which will make every ear to tingle.

They procured the assistance of the keeper of a certain house-a woman with the heart of a fiend-and gave her their commission. Elegantly dressed, and assuming every appearance of a lady of fortune, she rode to the quiet village, sought the poor man's house, and ingratiated herself with the family. She was in search of some female as a companion. She was rich, lived rather retired and solitary, and should take great satisfaction in the company of some pleasant and trusty girl, as an inmate of her family. She was pleased with the appearance of their daughter; and if she could obtain her, would cheerfully give her clothing and board, merely for the sake of her society. She wanted neither cook nor chambermaid, nor waiter -but a friend, to sit with herself in the parlor, and ride with her when she went abroad. The artless girl was captivated with the proposal, and wished to go; the mother thought it a rare chance indeed for her daughter; and the matter was soon arranged, that the child should go with the lady. The vulture returned to its haunt, bearing off its prey, and exulting in its victory.

For some days, nothing occurred to alarm the fears of unsuspecting innocence. At length, gentlemen visit at the house, and become acquainted with the young and beautiful stranger. They are very condescending and agreeable, and pay great attention to the lady's new associate. Ere long, one gentleman is left alone with her, and a regular assault is made upon her virtue, by all the hellish arts which such gentlemen know how to employ. He could not succeed in his purpose, and gave over in despair for that time. He retired; and immediately his partner in mischief entered the room, to renew the assault! He also was baffled, and went away.

They then advised that a young gentleman should be introduced, who possibly might succeed better. It was done. The girl still resisted, remonstrated, and pleaded with her destroyer. She begged him to have pity upon her, and rescue her from that dreadful place. She could welcome poverty, but intreated that her virtue might be spared. The heart of the young transgressor was not all marble, and the seducer was overcome. The spoiler relented before his trembling victim, begged pardon for his wickedness, and solemnly promised to procure her release, and convey her home.

It now became necessary to deceive the old sorceress in whose house they were imprisoned. The young man pretended to her that things were going on well, and that he wished to take a short ride with her friend, to which she readily assented. They did not return; he fulfilled his promise, and carried home the heroine to her parents. O with what emphasis and rapture must she have sung, "Blessed be the Lord, who hath not given me as a prey to their teeth. My soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and I have escaped. My help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth."

The subsequent history of this rescued lamb is unknown to the writer. He is equally unapprised of that of the young man, who became her protector and deliverer. The keeper of that house of abomination has gone to her final account. The two instigators of the plot still live, through the infinite forbearance of God. But though their heads are now whitening for the grave, there is too much reason to fear that they have not turned from their evil ways, to save their souls alive. What their present situation in society is, I shall not now divulge. Suffice it to say, that as the world goes they are gentlemen to this hour; but the utmost stretch of Christian charity can not regard them as any thing better than moral nuisances in the world.

Let none imagine that the escape of this destined victim divests our narration of its power as a salutary warning. Where one is rescued from machinations like these, doubtless ten, if not a hundred, eventually fall and perish. Escape in these circumstances is next to impossible, and should be considered as a miracle of divine favor. Can it be supposed that those who thus lie in wait to deceive, and are hungry for their prey, can easily be baffled by artless innocence and youthful inexperience. The only safety lies in keeping far away from the enchanted ground. No young female should go as a stranger into a city, without the protection of some friend on whose tried fidelity she can rely-or take up her residence in a family, without knowing that it sustains a fair moral reputation. There are multitudes of such families, where domestics and boarders and visitors are as safe as in any in the country. There are others, where no intended temptations to sin are presented, but where little caution is exercised, and the intrusion of tempters would not be impracticable. There are some, where temptation is the business and the object of the household, and whither the innocent are inveigled and drawn in as sheep for the slaughter.


No. 11.


The author of the subjoined letter, once a pupil of Mrs. Willard, possesses a mind of the first order. I found her in the winter of 1830, in the city Penitentiary. At present she resides with her parents, and will, I hope, favor me with an occasional communication. She has connected herself with the Baptist church.

SIR-I was born in a retired little village about one hundred miles from New York. My parents were rich. Two sons and one daughter were given them, and they were happy. My mother was a very pious woman; but my father, unfortunately, was a Deist. In childhood I seldom saw an unhappy hour; indulged in every little foolish extravagance my vain heart could wish. Idolized by my parents, they saw nothing in my gayety to censure-my wish was their law. I re


mained at home until my twelfth year had passed, and then was sent to a female seminary, where I continued six months, and then returned to my father's. Too careless to study, I made but little improvement; and under the plea of ill usage, I did not return to school again-and from that time to my twenty-third year was one continual round of pleasure, the repetition of which would be needless. Near that time my eldest brother left college, and with him introduced a young collegian, a bosom friend of his, to the family-a man possessed of manners at once polished and insinuating. He soon wove a spell around my heart, impossible to break. For months I nourished that passion, unknown to any mortal but myself. In vain my parents intreated me to tell them the cause of my unhappiness. Oh! that I had told them all. Never can a child place too much confidence in a parent-they should know every secret of their heart. But to return. Summer came; he again visited us, and confessed he loved me, and asked me to be his wife. I referred him to my parents. He then told me his family was involved in difficulty, and, until all was settled, wished it not to be known that he paid his addresses to me; and in an evil hour, I at once promised to be his wife, and to keep the secret from my unsuspecting parents. He soon returned to his home, but not until he had ruined and undone me. soon perceived I should bring a living witness of my guilt and shame into the worid. I then wrote to him. He came, and in the dead hour of night I left my home-my fond, my doating parents-my brother too, that tenderly loved me. I left all for him. He came with me to New York, where he furnished me a room, and I was contented. In about three months after my arrival in the city, my child first opened its little eyes to light. He grew, and was a lovely boy, and his father kind and affectionate. I was perfectly happy, and thought it would always last. All my affection and love was centred in those two dear beings. Often I sat and listened in rapture (as he hung over our little one,) to his protestations, and that he ne'er would forsake us-and never for one moment did I doubt it. Soon after my darling boy was four months old, his health visibly declined. With what agony I watched the little sufferer! It was out of the power of human art to save him. None but a mother can tell the agony, amounting almost to despair, on parting with a beloved child. Then I thought of my parents, that I had forgotten for some time. What must have been their feelings! He knew that I was miserable, and paid me every attention until I regained my happiness. His visits now became less frequent, and I fancied there was a coldness in his manner I had not observed before. A new and indescribable feeling took possession of me, and with it a train of miseries suffice it to say, he cruelly deserted me; and when convinced of the truth, I awakened from my dream of happiness.

What a cheerless futurity then presented itself! Deserted by him I only loved, where should I look for one to trust? I felt myself alone in the wide world, without one friend-a wanderer in a dark and dreary night, without one ray of light to guide me. Then came the thought of self-destruction-that it would be better to lie in the cold grave, than to bear the scorn of an unfeeling world. Then came the dreadful thought of an hereafter-that it would not be an eternal

sleep. And dare I rush headlong before my Maker, unprepared. No. I then flew to dissipation, and in it I drowned all thoughts of the past and future, and continued in this career until I was imprisoned. Then came reflection, and I made a resolution to live a better lifeand may God in his infinite mercy enable me to live a virtuous and religious life, and learn to seek him before it is too late.

Yours &c.

1st. In reviewing the occasions of her misfortunes and sins, at the head of the list appears the pernicious indulgence that her parents gave to her every idle, vain, and proud desire. It is to be hoped that parents will learn a lesson by it, and regard the subjoined remarks of the managers of the Philadelphia Magdalen Society, who say—" It is apparent that fruitful sources of error and crime may be traced to the want of family discipline--to the absence of that deep-felt responsibility, which teaches parents, and masters, and mistresses, the necessity of knowing how each hour is passed by those under their care, and with what companions they associate. Parents and guardians appear to have been too much occupied to remember that the paths of youth are slippery, and thus unprotected, neglected or forgotten, a cruel destroyer has been suffered to enter among them, and to blight many a fair, a promising flower. But if, of such watchmen as these, the inquiry is made, What has become of the lambs that I gave thee? will it be a justification for any to say, While thy servant was busy here and there, the damsel was undone? Is there not cause to fear that these neglectful parents and guardians will learn that their lives shall go for the lives of those who have thus perished from their families? Of one fact the managers are fully persuaded, that if, in every house, a vigilant and Christian care was steadily maintained to keep from harm every member of the family, the number of unchaste females would be very much lessened."

2d. The history of this female illustrates the tremendous demoralizing influence of dances, parties of pleasure, novels, theatres, and similar places—of which the author was passionately enamored, and to which she assigned, as incentives of her levity, vanity, pride, love of dress and loose morals, a large share in the causes of her degradation. The annexed extract from the report of the Philadelphia Magdalen Society alludes to these causes of licentiousness :-"During the last year, (1824) the applications for admission have been numerous, and, as heretofore noted, by females who are very young. So many of these have stated that their first aberrations from chastity were the consequence of their attending places of amusement and of exhibitions, that

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