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LP ILA Pl'ISEjISHfifi) WEEKLY, AT noa'OIilJLU, OAESU, HAWAIIAN ISLANDS. J. J. JAUVE3, Editor. SATURDAY, JUNE 1, 1811. NEW SERIES, Vol. l.-No. 8. m f 1 .J. J. jLLd ion I? O IS li iSJ o a ciruncn ov unclaxd p.ai.lad. DV UFA. T. M. NT A I.E. " A cn for the tirnos when the sweet chunh chimrs Called rich an I pour to niy, As tuey ojH'no.l their eves l.y the bright sunrise ; Ami when eveith:? 'Iiod aw ay, The squire ca,)ic out 1'roiu his rich oM hall, And the e;ivints 1'J' two ami l.y llnve, An 1 the wo.vhinn let his hatelieffall, And the shepherd left his tree. Thea a so:i for the times, &c. " Through the ch:irrh)nrl dew, hy the rlmrchyird vow, They went lith old and yonir. An 1 with one consent in grayer they Vent, And with one eonserit tuey sun'. They knelt on tin? ft or till the prayers were o'er, To the iniest they ir:ive ;j od heed : Who would not hless th rood old days When our Chuivh was a Church in'lee I f Then a so.13; for the times, Sec. " Christmas wns n inerry Christmas then, And Ivtster-tide the siune ; An I they welcomed well with merry hell F.ach saint's day as it came. They thought, with love on the saints above, In the pious days of old We toil tin 1 wn slave till we drop in the grave, And all tor the lut of gold. Then a .o ig for the times. &.o. " Jiut little we'll care what wicked men May say, or inay think of ill : They 'kept their .saints' days holy then. We'll Keep them holy Mill. We'll cherish them now, in times of strife. As a holy and peaceful thing. They we'e'hotiglit l y a faithful prc!;;te's life, And tho h!o. I of a mart yred king. Then u song for the times, &c. S E L K C T E D . Wc kno.v not when we havo met with a sweeter thing of its kind, than the following, which is ex tracted from the Nation il Intelligencer. Kverjr mother wiU'feel its truMi, and many a heart respond to the picture of domestic life, so vividly and yet so naturally expressed. 1'cud it, mothers, and tell us candidly if tho selection is not 1o your tastes. El. MATERNAL DUTJ F.S. A gentleman of our acquaintance, who has lately beguiled some tedious hours by the perusal of Balzac's now novel, entitled "JwV moircs da 'Irax Jciiif x Jil tricot," lias favored us with a translation of one of the, many very beautiful letters which that work contains. The subject, though it ntnv he old and hack mod, is one of which a mother (and we have many constant readers who belong to that category) can never become weary; and v.o doubt whether we have a reader of any class who will not readily excuse us for devoting a column or two to its publication. ' L E TT Eli from the Vitcou ntw tie PES TOR A I) E, in ihz country, to the Jiiirones dc MACUMER, at Paris. You complain of my silence; have you, then, forgotten the two little dark-headed ur chins whom 1 govern, and who govern me? Vou know already some of my reasons for remaining at home. Besides the state of our uncle, 1 had no desire to drag with me to Paris a boy of four years old, and a little girl who will soon be three, while 1 am every day looking for a third. I did not wish to embar rass your time or Jill your house w ithach a family, nor in truth did 1 choose to appear so much to my own disadvantage in the brilliant circle over which you reign; and 1 hold in abhorrence the living in hotels or furnished apartments. Our uncle, as soon as he heard that we had called our son alter him, pre sented me with two hundred thousand francs to purchase a house in Paris, and my hus band is now looking out for one in your quar ter of the city. My mother gave mo thirty thousand for the furniture; so that, when I establish myself for the season at Paris, it will be in my own house. In short, I shall endeavor to be worthy of my adopted sister. As to writing long letters now, how can I? This, in which I mean to give you a sketch of tny every day duties, will perhaps remain for a week on my table. It is not improbable that Armand may cut it up into soldiers to recruit his regiment, now drawn up in line on the carpet, or into ships for his (leet, now manoeuvring in his bathing tub. A singlo lay will give you a picture of tho rest ; they are all alke, and comprise but two events: the children stiller, or the children do not Buffer. Here in the country literally speak ing, my minutes arc hours, or my hours min utes, according to the state of the children. I f I have any peaceablo hours, it is when they are in bed, when I am neither rocking th3 cradle of the one, nor telling stories to the other, to put them to sleep. When I have them both asleep near me, I say to my self, now I have nothing more to tear, in fact, my dear, during the day a mother is continually inventing dangers. The moment the children are out of sight why, may be Armand has stolen the razor to play with, perhaps his clothes have caught lire, an in sect has stung him, he has fallen down, in running and hurt his head, or tumbled into a pond where he may be drowned. So you see, maternity is but a series of sweet or te r rible fancies. Not an hour but has its joys and its fears. Hut of an evening, in my chamber, the waking dream comes upon me, when I arrange their destinies. Then 1 can see angels standing around their pillows and smiling upon their cherub lives. Sometimes Armand ealls ma in his sleep; Illy to him; kiss his forehead and his little sister's feet without their knowing it, and then contem plate them in their placid beauty. These are my leasts! Yesterday our guardian angel, I believe, disturbed me at midnight: I jump ed up and Hew first to the cradle of Athenais, whose head 1 found too low, and then to Ar mand, whose feet were uncovered and purple, with cold. "Oh, sweet mamma!" said he, waking and kissing. Xiis is a night scone. J low necessary it is for a mother to have her children at her side! Can a nurse, no matter how good a on;?, take them up, quiet their fears, and put them to .-deep aain, when they have been awakened by some horrible nightmare? For they have their little dreams, and to explain to them one of these terrible visions is the most dillicttlt ta-k imaginable, even to a mother, as the child is then bewildered, half asleep, and listens at one and the same time with intelligence and simplicity. There is certainly some point between sleeping and waking at which the intellect is perfect. My sleep has become so light that I can see and hear my little ones through the fringe of my eyelids. A sigh, the slightest stir awakes me. The monster Convulsions seems to me forever squatting tit the foot of their beds. In the morning thev are awake with the first chirping of the birds. In truth, their chattel ing is hardly distinguishable from that of a sparrow; little plaintive or joyous cries, which reach me rather through the heart than the ear. While Nais is pushing her way. towards me with unsteady steps, Ar mand, with the agility of a monkey, skips up and clasps me round the neck. My bed then becomes the theatre of their plays, and the mother lies completely at their discretion. The little girl pulls my hair, while Armand defends it tu if it were his own property. They continue their tricks without resistance, un til at last their bursts of laughter, like the firing of guns in my ears, drive away the last vestige of bleep, and then we must all play at " mother wolf,'' and mother wolf seizes in her devouring lips that young and fair and delicate llesh, impresses a thousand kisses on those coquctish and mischievous eyes, those rosy shoulders, and little jealousies are exci ted which are delightful. 1 have sometimes been mote than an hour vainly endeavoring to put on one of my stockings. At last, however, we are up! Then begins the lahors of the toilet. I put on my dress ing gown, turn up the sleeves, and tie on my oil silk apron: then, with the assistance of Mary, 1 bathe and wash the two little How ers. I choose to be the sole judge of the proper temperature of the water, for 1 have no doubt that the crying of children when tiiey are washed is half the time caused by the water's being too hot or too cold. Then for the paper ships and the little glass ducks. If we would do our work thoroughly, we must keep children amused while we arc washing them. If you but knew the many pleasures we are called upon to invent for these abso lute sovereigns, in order to draw off their at tention while the sponge is passing over their bodies, you would be frightened nt the ad dress and skill required to fulfil the glorious duties of a mother. We must entreat and scold, and promise; in short, practice a sort of charlatanry, which of course must possess the merit of concealing itself to be success ful. A child is a great politician; and, like all politicians must bo governed by his pas sions. Happily, they laugh ot everything; if a brush falls, or u piece of soap slrps thro' tho lingers, the houso rings with their merry shouts. In short, if our triumphs are dearly purchased, they arc at least triumphs! But God only for tho father knows nothing of all this God: and you and tho angels alono can comprehend the looks that I exchange j with Mary when our work is done, when wc see the little angels standing clean in the midst of soaps, sponges, ilanncls, and the thousand details of a real nursery. 1 have become quite an English woman upon this point, riie women oi that country certainly l . . MM -u l I l. I nave a genius ior nursing, j. uuugii uiey iuuk only to the material and physical well being of the child, still there is much good sense in their nursery arrangements. 1 adopt their custom of putting iianncl on my children's feet, and leaving their legs bare they shall never be swathed or eonlined with tight band ages; this is a French invention to allow more liberty to the nurse that she may leave the children to themselves. A true mother is not for a moment free. You may conceive, then, why I do not write to you as I once did, having now on my shoulders, in addition to my domestic administration, tho care of two children. The science of the mother consists of silent merits without pretension or parade; if it is a virtue in detail, a devotion at all hours. She must watch every little sauce pan befote the tire. And you know 1 am not one to avoid a single trouble; even from the slightest wc may gather something to the stock of our af fections. O, it is so delightful to sec the smile of a child when its little palate is grati fied. A toss of Armand's head, on such oc casions, is worth ti whole life of happiness. How much I give up to any other woman the right, the trouble, the pleasure of blowing upon a spoonful of soup that Nais finds too hot for her! Whenever a nurse has suffered a child to buru his tongue or its lips, the is sure to tell the mother that the child cries be cause it is hungry. Put, independent of this, how can a mother sleep in peace when she knows tjutt her child has been swallowing something blown upon, pei haps, by an im pure breath a mother, to whom nature has given no intermedial contrivance between her own bosom and the lips of her nursling? To cut for Nais, who is just getting her last teeth, a piece of nicely cooked cutlet, and to mix properly with w i II boiled potatoes, is a work of patience: and, atlerull, in certain cases, none but a mother can know how to coax a fretful child to eat its proper allow ance. If 1 had a house full ofdomestics, and t!:e best nuie in England, I w u'.d net be in duced to relinquish my personal attention to the little chagrins and vexations of the chil dren, which are only to be met and combat ted w ith gentleness. We should devote our very soul, my dear Louisa, to the care cf these sweet innocents. Vv'e must believe nothing but cur own eyes, the testimony of our hands, as to their dressings feeding, and lodging. When a child cries, unless its suf fering can be clearly traced to some natural cause, I regard it as an undeniable proof ol" fault in the mother or nurse. Since I have had two a! moat three, indeed to take care of, nothing else has a place in my thoughts; and even you, whom I love so dearly, are be come almost a souvenir! My toilet is not always iinhed even so late as two o'clock; so you sco 1 do not follow the example of mothers w ho have their apartment always ar ranged, their dressing rooms, their robes, and every thing always in order. Yesterday, as the weather was very fine for the beginning of Apiil, I determined to take a last walk before a certain event, w hich is not far of". Well, when a mother deter mines on a w alk, it is a soil of era to be talk ed of tho evening beforehand. A rmand was to wear, lor tho first time, a coat of black velvet, a new collar which 1 had worked, a Scotch cap of the Stuart colors, with feathers in it; Nais was to be in white and rose, with a charming baby bonnet for she is still the baby until my little brggar shall make his ap pearance; I call him so, because he will be the "cadet" of the family; and having al ready seen him in my dreams, 1 know I shall have a boy. Well! bonnet and collar, coat, little socks, tiny boots with rose-colored la cings, mu.din frock embroidered in silk, were all spread out on my bed. When the two gay little birds, who perfectly understood what was going on, had their dark hair, on the one curled, on the other parted over the forehead, so as to j-how under the bonnet; when the boots had been laced, and the tiny feet which they so beautifully adorned, had trotted about the nursery; when the two clean faces, as Mary calls it, and the sparkling eyes said, "let us go!" oh, how my heart throbbed! To look at tho children w hom wo have dressed with our own hinds; to see the fair and delicate skin, with the blue veins showing through it, w hen we have just bath ed, and sponged, and wiped ourselves, the eil'ect heightened by the bright colors of the bilk and velvet ah, is there" in nature any thing equal to it! With what never-satisfied passion we call them back again and again, that wc may kiss, and kiss once more, those dear necks which, in their simple ornament of a collar, arc far more beautiful than that of the prettiest woman on earth. Pictures like this are lithographed in stupid coloring, and exhibited in shop windows, and attract around them crowds of mothers why, I make them for myself every day. Behold us at length on our walk! I enjoy ing the fruits of my labor, admiring the little Armand, who struts with the air of a prince, leading baby along the road which you re member. Suddenly a carriage is seen meet ing us; I spring to lead them out of the road; the little rogues tumble into a mudhole, and there's the end of my grand operations! It becomes necessary to return to the house with them immediately and take off their wet clothes. I catch up the little one in my arms without peeing that I am spoiling my own dress; Mary seizes upon Armand, and thus wc re-enter the house. When a lady cries and a child gets wet, all is said; a mother thinks no longer of herself she is absorbed. The dinner-bell rings very often before a thing is done to these imps; and how am I to w ait upon both put on tlieir napkins, pin up their sleeves, and get them ready for din ner? This is a problem which I solve twice a day. Put in the midst of these perpetual troubles, frolics or disasters, there is nothing in the house forgotten by myself. It often happens w hen the children have been trou blesome, that I am obliged to make my ap pearance ' en papilhtes. " My toilet depends upon their humor. To get a moment to my self to write you this letter, I was obliged to let them cut the pictures out of my romances, build castles with the books, the backgam mon men, or the pearl counters, or suffer Nais to wind my silk and worsted after a fashion of her own, the complicated nature of which, I assure you, shows no little skill, w hile it keeps her as mute as a mouse. After all, I have no right to complain; my two children enjoy good health, and amuse themselves at less expense than one would think. They are happy with everything; a few trifling playthings and good watching are all they require. Little pebbles, of various colors, and shells picked up on the beach, constitute their happiness. The greater num ber of these things they possess, the richer they think themselves. Armand holds con versations with the flowers, the flics, the chickens, and insects excite his deepest ad miration. Whatever is diminutive seems to interest them. Armand is beginning to ask the uliciifore of everything. Ho has this moment come to ask what I was saying to his godmother. You know he looks upon you as a fairy children, you know, are al ways right. The following little incident will show you one of the traits of your godson. The other day a beggar accosted us for beggars know very well that a methcr accompanied by her children never refuses alms. Armand knows nothing yet of the possibility of any body's wanting bre ad, and is quite ignorant of the uses of money; but he hod in his hand a trumpet, which I had just bought for him at his particular desire, and with the air of a king he held this out to the old man, saying, "here, take it!" What is there upon earth to be compared to the joys of such a moment? The ola man asked me if he might he permitted to keep the toy; "for," he added, as he pocketed what I gave him without even looking at it, " I also have children, madam." When I reflect that in a few years this dear child must be sent to college, I feel fits of shivering creep over me. A public school may blight all these beautiful flowers of in fancy, may denaturalize all those graces, that adorable frankness! The beautiful hair, that' I have so often combed, and curled, and kissed, will be cut off. Oh, what will become of beloved Armand? And you, what has become of you? for you tell me nothing of yourself in your last letter Adieu! Najs has just had a fall, and if I continue to write, this letter will be swelled to a volume. ' ' In a bookseller's catalogue, appears the following article "Memoirs of Charles I.; with a head capitally ereevted,' ' f '