The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1859-03-03
For the National Era.
MEN AND WOMEN.
No. Q.
Heroism in the Private Walks of Life
BY GAIL HAMILTON.

Waterman What Of the night? The morn
ing cometh.
1t Is not for the generation among whom Eliz-
abeth browning has sung, and Charlotte Bronte
spoken, and Harriet Hosmer chiselled and
Rosa Bonheur painted, and Mary Lyon taught,
and Florence Nightingale lived, to despair of
woman's achievement of her highest destiny.
In whatever direction you choose to walk, you
will find that firm football has preceded yours
that a strong hand has hewed down the giant
trees, and cleared away the tangled underground,
SO that the forest which once required all a
mans strength and a woman's fortitude, a child
may thread unframed. Thus do the strong
bear the burdens of the weak. Thus have no.
BILE women made straight, in the desert, high
way for our God. " Inasmuch as We have done it
unto one of the least of these my brethren, We
have done it unto me- 1t is the first step
which costs and the first step has been taken
But let us not suppose that generous ends
can be attained only on the mountain-top. To
but few is strength given to climb its ragged
sides, and clearness and breadth Of vision to
take in the broad sweep of its low.lyine land
scape. Down in the valley, there is work to be
done-humble, yet Divine small in the germ,
yet great in the unfolding. However simple
or however difficult, however obscure or how
ever prominent the work may be, matters not
provided it be Gods appointed work. 1t is
better to rule household well, than king
dom ILL.,
He that sweeps floor 10 Gods law
Makes that and tie action hne"
The ring on child's finger is as perfect a
circle as the zone Of this round world. The
Dairyman's Daughter ''just knew, and knew
no more, her Bible true" lived ont her brief
and simple life, and was not, for God took
her. But from her humble island home her
voice still speaks comfort and hope to the ends
Of the earth.
Here and there, both in the beaten paths and
the untrodden ways, on the iowlands and the
uplands of life, meet an angel--nOt in white
robes, garlanded with roses, and winged for
Heaven, but plain in calico, it may be, or
grand in velvet. | recall now the face of one
whose life is to me a constant gospel. A slight,
pale girl, orphaned homeless; neglected by
those who should have watched her young years
tendery, she vet seems to have drawn to her
self, by some magnetic power, all the good of
all the persons by whom she has been sur
rounded, and to have fed her own soul thereon
She went to school, bearing in her mean and
scanty dress, her thin cheeks, and hard hands,
the marks ofpoverty and toll; and Wild thought
less, elegantly -dressed, and carefully nurtured
girls, hushed their needless sarcasm, softened
their merry voices, and spoke to her with love,
and of her with tears. Shrinkingly sensitive to
their opinions, tremblingly alive to her own
disadvantages, conscious as she must have
been that she served hard taskmaster, no
word of complaint ever passed her lips. Always
cheerful, modest, happy, willing to be pleased,
grateful for kindness, and patient of any chance
neglect, you might have supposed her entirely
insensibe to the motives and feelings that
influence ordinary girls, were it not for the &C.
casional culver of the lip, the quick, nervous,
gesture, the moistened eye, and faltering tone.
She left school with disease lurking in her sys-
tenn, slowly and surely undermining the cita-
del of life but she kept up her courage. She
had no idea of dying till her hour should come,
and, as long as she should live she determined
that her living should bring forth fruit. She
earned money enough to transport herself to a
climate which was pronounced favorable to her
health there, in wild backwoods, among q