It was for woman that Dawn labored, for through her elevation she saw that the whole race must ascend. All should know that men will be great if women are; and it is a truth that is daily becoming more evident, that he must be reached through her. In a Hindoo fable, Vishna is represented as following Maga through a series of transformations. When she is an insect, he becomes an insect; she changes to an elephant, and he becomes one of the same species; till at last she becomes a woman, and he a man; she a goddess, and he a god. So, outside the regions of fable, if woman is ignorant and frivolous, man will be ignorant and frivolous; if woman rises she will take man up with her.
Two years passed away, and the current of life grew stronger, as each wave inflowed to the shore where Dawn sat, waiting for shattered barks. This was her life-mission, and well she knew, to help the lowly and down-trodden in every station of life, was but fulfilling the divine command.
They were not all outcasts who laid claim to her love and sympathy; for, sanctioned by the marriage law, the soul's chastity was daily being sacrificed to lust, shame, and dishonor. She saw many living together in wedlock, under the most debasing influences, void of every grace and feeling which makes life holy and refined; bringing into the world children, gross, dull, and inharmonious, like themselves.
The question will force itself upon every thoughtful mind, Why is all this?
Even to destroy life, heinous as that sin is, cannot be deemed more sinful than to bring it into being, under such circumstances, to suffer.
But we are passing through the refining process. Much will be questioned, much remain unanswered. Let us look well to ourselves, and learn that there are many ways in which we may err, before we condemn others.
The light of to-day is insufficient for to-morrow; let us, therefore, be not too assertive, and bold, but follow quietly the indications of life, not closing down our opinion upon any of its agitations. To-day is ours, no more; sufficient unto the day is the evil. We burden ourselves each hour with too many questions which retard our progress.
A wise man takes no more weight than his horses can draw. Our journey would be swifter, if we started with less each morning. We can not hasten God's purposes. Growth is slow; feverish action is disease. The throbbing pulse is beating away our vital forces, not adding to life, and yet how many do we behold, who, working in this unhealthy manner, look on those more calm and collected, as lacking force.
The cataract expends itself in spray and foam; the deep river, more slow, bears its tribute of wealth to the ocean.
Let us work calmly, and not mistake mists for mountains. Depth is height.