Dissertation on the Characteristic Differences between the Sexes, and Woman's Position and Influence in Society, No. II [pp. 621-632]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MIESSENGER.
625
understanrdest my thoughts afar off. Thou compasseth
my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with
all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue,
but lo, 0 Lord! thou knowest it altogether." With
this being then, who already knows all her afflictions,
does she commune-to him she pours forth the torrent
of her feelings, and tells the tale of her concentrated
woe, which no vulgar ear shall ever hear. This communion becomes sweet to her in the hour of her afflictions, and she bestows upon him who has promised to
be the friend of the disconsolate and broken-hearted,
that love which perhaps has been slighted and despised
by another. "As the dove (says Irving,) will clasp its
wings to its sides, and cover and conceal the wound that
is preying on its vitals-so is it the nature of woman,
to hide from the world the pangs of wounded affection.
Even when fortunate she scarcely breathes it to herself;
but when otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her
bosom, and there lets it cower and brood among the
ruins of her peace."
It is at such times as these she feels the great want of
religion; and accordingly we find that on tracing the
history of woman, we often see her religious career
commencing after some great disappointment-after
some cruel stroke which has been inflicted on the feelings and affections. In Catholic countries we frequently
see women, after these great disappointments, retiring
from the world and immuring themselves for the remainder of their lives within the walls of a nunnery,
where at a distance from the world and free fromt the
rude gaze of an inquisitive society, they may spend
the remainder of their days in silent and pensive
melancholy, softened and ameliorated by sweet communion with God. You rarely hear of this on the part
of man. If he survives the misfortunes that for a time
have oppressed him, he plunges into the active business
and bustle of the world, and in the midst of his employments he finds new occupation for his mind-he summnons it away from the contemplation of his grief. New
feelings are called into play, and often succeed in
banishing the old. How often do we find ambition becoming the succedaneum of love.
But woman has not this opportunity of withdrawing
herself from the scenes of her misfortunes and griefs.
Every object around her reflects back their images upon
her mind; and, go where she will, she is still like those
unfortunate beings, laboring under the illusions of spectral apparitions;-the phantoms are around her still,
gazing on her with lurid glare whilst awake, haunting
her whilst asleep. Nothing but religion can afford her
solace, under afflictions so oppressive and crushing.
Without it, she may well exclaim in the language of the
"Dirge,"
" Vain is the boasted force of mind,
When hope has ta'en her flight;
Then memory is most unkind And thought is as the dread whirlwind
That works on earth its blight."
In addition to what is said above, it may be observed
that the physical infirmities of woman, are greater than
those of man; she is liable to sudden changes in health,
which endanger her life. Every child which comes into
the world, is an admonition to the mother on the precariousness of human life, and the necessity of living in a
state of constant preparation for another world.
3d. Dependence and Physical Weakness.
Another cause, no doubt, of the more religious character of woman, is her greater feebleness and dependence upon the powers around her, than that felt by
man. When we look to the stupendous mechanism of
the heavens and the earth, and contemplate the mighty
powers that are at work in the universe, the mind naturally turns, in the spirit of devotion and prayer, to that
infinite, incomprehensible, mysterious being, who guides
and directs those powers. When we contemplate, for
example, the globe on which we stand —think of it as
moving at the rate of more than sixty thousand miles
per hour, around that luminous orb, which at the distance of millions of miles, binds it down to its prescribed orbit; when we think again of this mass on
which we stand, vast and grand to us, but an atom to
him who placed it here, rolling on its axis, carrying us
forward with a compound velocity, which if it could be
suddenly arrested by some opposing mass competent to
the resistance, would be sufficient to tear from their
bases all the mountains and hills of the earth, and hurl
their scattered fragments o'er the vallies-a velocity,
whose sudden cessation would prostrate alike the animal and vegetable kingdoms, burying all in one common chaotic ruin, from which no one being would escape
to sing the funeral dirge of a dead world. When we
contemplate all this, and know that there is a hand
competent to the control of these mighty powers; that
under its influence, while thus rapidly hurled along
through the illimitable regions of space, the busy operations of men are going forward; that the grand tower,
the enormous pyramid, the slender reed, and the delicate spire of grass, stand alike unaffected and unshaken
by this velocity; that the slumbers of the infant on its
little couch, and the spider weaving her delicate web in
the "autumnal fields," are alike undisturbed;-when
we look again, and contemplate that thin elastic medium
which we breathe, covering the earth like an invisible
mantle, all quiet and calm at the sunset hour, so that
even the thistle-down lies still and motionless on the
earth's surface; then think ag,ain of that same mediumn,
lashed into the fearful tempest, spreading dismay and
destruction along its desolating track, and scattering the
mariner and his cargoes over the billows of the sea; or
when we contemplate that principle of heat which pervades the universe, constituting the great vis vivica, or
enlivening power of nature,-so placid, so sweet, and it
would scarcely be metaphor to add, so tender, as it exists around us in the mild and bland atmosphere of a
summer's morning, when
"' The lark,
Shrill voiced and loud, the messenger of morn,
Calls up the tuneful nations. And ev'ry copse
Deep tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads
Of the coy quiristers that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony."
And then think again of this same agent confined in
the earth's mass; by its sudden action laying hold on
the globe with the grasp of more than ten thousand
giants, upheaving the dense and mighty stratum which
lies above it, shaking whole continents by its power,
and burying the toppling cities with the accumulated
wealth of ages under its fearful ruins; when we contemplate, I say, all these powers around us, we see our
dependence on them, and again their dependence on