312 



MOORE'S RURAL XEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AM) FAMILY NEWSPATER. 



SEPT. 25. 



faflfos' 1 nrf-|flli0. 



A MOTBEB'S KISS. 





. t ,.-.M 



I* iilcl'U; t^urtw «ith »iiT«r itmks; 

 I «... ft rull-gro " u mkQ-but Tim* 

 llu dteply mirked mr mothsr't ohetki; 



lo aickatM, aorruir, anil mUtrott, 

 Ami lifi ioj iplril from the dust; 



THE TROE WIFE OF THE FABUER 



Tit", the farmer's trw wife — for what class of 

 ivos Is more worthy the appellation of true? or 

 bat class of men more deserving the warm love 

 and tender affections of a true-hearted companion 

 tliso the faithful agriculturist, who, by honest toil 

 and steady application, supplies not only the wants 

 of his own household, Imt plnc.es the staff of life 

 within the reach of all classes of mankind 

 throughout the worldT But, in speaking of trne 

 wives, we do not wish to be understood that the 

 farmer atone Is capable of giving comfort and 

 happiness to the better half— on the contrary, we 

 heartily congratulate all, in whatever profession or 

 calling they may be laboring, because of their 

 good fortune In obtaining loving and cherishable 

 wives. From the daily vicissitudes of farm labor, 

 and the anxiety and fatigue of the field, there la 

 something within the farmer's bosom that seems 

 to demand a cordial response from the heart of 

 the one who has sworn to love, cherish, and obey. 

 And, as we contemplate her willingness, and the 

 pleasure she experiences as she engages in the 

 routine of household duties, bow genial seems the 

 chord of love that binds two mutual hearts in one. 

 Much depends on the energy and perseverance 

 of the wife. How hallowed the influences she Is 

 wont to diffuse throughout the family circle; and 

 through her Instrumentality how the husband's 

 heart Is cheered as he retires from the toil and 

 heat of the day to taste the bounties of his own 

 table, mode thrice welcome from the fact that they 

 have been prepared by the one In whose society he 

 so much delights to dwell. During the long 

 winter evenings, as he Is permitted to sit by hiB 

 own fireside and peruso the content* of nseful 

 books and read the uowb of the day from his 

 family paper; or as ho playfully indulges the little 

 ones In child like glee, ho looks around him, and, 

 as be beholds the perfect neatness and order that 

 prevails throughout the entire dwelling, be is 

 again tilled with gratitude, and is once more con- 

 strained to revert with pleasureable emotions to 

 her Id whom all his affection* centre. Then it is 

 he is ready with willing hands to render any 

 sistanco or comfort that she needs, for the tr 

 hearted farmer knows how to esteem her en 

 lenco and appreciate her worth. Then why 

 many discontented and unhappy wives? It o 

 not be owing lo their aversion to the toil and pa- 

 tience Incumbent on them as wiveB? It is no less 

 » t'ttamre to the trne wife than a tfefy to dlreot all 

 the affairs of the house, aa well as it is his to 

 preside on the farm and toil on from day to day, 

 i interest, bnt also for hers, 

 wife depends much on 

 nd indulgence of the 

 iow dae respect to her, 

 ' i giving 



t only for hi 

 True, the happiness of 

 the encouragement and 

 husband. He, too, mm 

 and be kind and obllgli 



every possible way. But when each labors with 

 eye single to mutual happiness, nothing is wanting 

 to render a lasting fraternity complete. 



Among the many attributes oharacterUtic of the 

 true wife, we will only atop lo mention the follow- 

 ing. Above all, she loves home and cares for her 

 children. I alike many who are inclined to regard 

 home merely as a drudge, and the theater of dis- 

 quietude and irksome toll, she loves her own tire- 

 side, and delights in educating heraelf for the 

 proper training of the offspring which Goo has 

 given her.and by her mild and temperate example 

 strive* to influence them in paths of rectitude and 

 honor. Thus her heart is ever enlisted in en- 

 deavoring to make the associations of home 

 " ways of pleasantness and paths of poaoe," and aa 

 husband and children cluster around, forming one 

 grand fraternity of love, ihey have not the least 

 toolinsUon oI le «tog tfaelr own roof-tree to seek 

 recreation l n the tavern or atoreaof the village 

 when leisure momenta or long winter evenings 

 come. Of such material is composed the affeo- 

 tionaw mother, th. successful housekeeper, and 

 the trite Kitt of the farmer. / r T 



v la an exact medi ani between too 

 much and 100 Utile, Orace t, the medium of mo- 

 tion; beauty la the medium of form; and genteel 

 neae la the medium of fashion,— Rn mo i^ 



MY GRANDMOTHER 



Boftxt, mournfully proceeded these words from 

 the choir In oar quiet church, while a large 

 circle of sorrowing friendB were gazing, for the 

 last time, upon Ute cold and lifeless form of my 

 Grandmother. Gently those sweet harmonious 

 strains fell upon our ears, but bow heavily came 

 they upon our agonized and gnef-wrung hearts,— 

 filled with anguish too deep for utterance, — when 

 we realized that the waxen lids bad closed forever, 

 and we should behold no more the love light of 

 those mild eyes beaming upon us. Toe gentle 

 hands that bad performed many good deeds in life, 

 were meekly folded over the pulseless heart that 

 had ceased to beat in unison with our own. Death 

 had hushed forever the soft, musical tones of that 

 voice whose gentle admonitions had often stayed 

 childhood's waywsrd footsteps — footsteps that 

 would have strayed from the path of rectitude. The 

 kind cheering words,wbicb, in adversity's darksome 

 hours, like rays of sunshine penetrated oar souls, 

 urging ua on to duty and making smoother the 

 rough and ragged pathway of life, were forever 

 silent Shebadgone; and though earth was bright 

 andjoyour, and life with the songs of merry birds, 

 we participated not in its gayety; for deeply our 

 hearts responded to tbeBolemnstrokesof the tolling 

 bell as they bore her from the church to the quiet 

 graveyard, where Mother Earth opened her bosom 

 tit receive her, and when ahe had wrapped her man- 

 tle about that precious form biding It forever from 

 our view, with sorrowful hearts we turned away 



■ right <i 



i white haired, aged r. 



. whOl 



There 



light of bis household had gone out, — he had lost 

 the companion of his bosom, the participant of hi 

 joys and Borrows, and now he mast tread life' 

 dreary path alone. 0, to think of loved ones gone 



'Tis a sorrowful thought that Btralns the heart' 

 fibres, but the blest assurance of a re union beyond 

 the grave, like a joyous stranger, breaks the et rings; 

 permits ua to gaze on the other side of the picture, 

 and through the misty veil of tears oatch a faint 

 glimpse of that brighter world. Ah! me thinks, 

 that while we wept o'er my grandmother's depar- 

 ture from earth, Angels welcomed her In Heaven, 

 and while the oholr In our church were singing a 

 sad farewell, she, with the heavenly choir, wan 

 chanting the praises of Jbhovah. Then let us 

 cease to mourn, and may her gentle spirit ever be 

 to ub as the polar star to the wanderer, shedding a 

 holy light upon our darkened pathway, guiding to 

 that land where we shall feel no more Bin's galling 

 chain. Minnie. 



Cbaitt fpsttllang. 



RIM FATHERS. 



• KtlUnf'ftbj Flower 



l shorts of Eagtud— 



RECOLLECTIONS. 



Memories of days which have fled come to me 

 a I nit musing in the deepening twilight, like 

 bright-winged messengers richly laden with cher- 

 ished Bcenea from the "dim halls of the shadowy 

 past," and I live over again the sunny days of 

 youth/a gay mora. Again I clamber up yonder 

 precipitous hill, long ere the glittering stars have 

 fled before the refalgent light of day, and watch 

 them aa they disappear one by one from the sky. 

 Then, a* bright, rosy streaks of light began to 

 athwart the heavens, diffusing a flood of 

 glory over the drowsy earth, and crowning the 

 mist enshrouded bills with a coronet of gold, my 

 youthful spirits readily drank in the ideal fancy 

 hat in a world so beautlfal there could be naught 

 ut joy and happiness. 



Ah! how soon my dreamB of perfect bllsB were 



dissolved in the bitter waters of sorrow, when 



Death with icy fingers touched the heart of a loved 



r — the youngest, fairest, dearest of our hoase- 



band. Well do I remember the hour — that 



of untold anguish — when we were summoned 



nd her death-bed. With what breathless 



anxiety we watched as her breathing grew 



shorter and shorter — th' 

 calmly and quietly the pure spirit — too pui 

 i — left its clayey 



itirely. So 

 for 



X pallidness which indicates that the "King of 

 :rora" has done his work, began to creep over 

 ■ once smiling face, the heart-ornshing truth 

 ■l my sinter, my only sister, was dead came home 

 my heart with a weight of sorrow before un- 

 jwn to me. Little did I think how much I 

 loved her, or how closely my affections were intcr- 

 n with her very being, till the waxen lids 

 forever closed over those eyes of heaven's 

 purest, brightest blue— that form, once so 

 active, cold and motionless. 

 After the casket which once contained the 



spirit of my loved 

 disturbed resting-place, ua 

 light drew on I would sit 

 away into the depths of the 

 the spirit of my aogul sist 

 I would listen 



h..:r i 





borne to its long, an- 



for hours gezlng far 

 izure sky, till I fancied 

 it was hovering over 



:o hear the niBtling of 



away again to her borne 

 among the seraphs. 1 have since thought it might 

 it have been all fancy; then I think if angels ore 

 )t Busceptible of sorrow, they would not witness 

 ime of the scenes of earth without shedding 

 ars over the erring one*. Be that as it may, it la 

 pleasant fancy— one to which I readily yield, lor 

 restrains from wrong-doing and from the utter- 

 nce of thoughtless words which would cause 

 many hours of bitter reflection. Mahia. 



Tils-nts no PnoTECTioN.— Were they so, Bacon 

 would never have taken a bribe, nor would Dodd 

 have committed forgery: Voltaire might have 

 been another Lather; David Hume another Mat- 

 thew Hale; and Satan himself might yet be in the 

 canopy of heaven, an orb of the first magnitude. 

 Indeed, high talent, unless early cultivated, as was 

 that of Hoses, and Milton, and Baxter and Ed- 

 wards, and Wesley, and Robert Hal), is the moat 

 restive under moral restraints; is the most fearless 

 in exposing itself to temptation; is the most ready 

 to lay itself oo the lap of Delilah, trusting in the 

 locks of its strength. And, alas! like Sampson, 

 how often Is it found blind and grindi 



right future unroih 



LEAVES FEOM MY PORT- FOLIO- No. IL 



Tuerh are two angels who attend the steps of 

 every mortal, and although closely allied, and 

 often wandering band In hand, yet we view them 

 not in the same light; for we call the one, warm, 

 glowing, beautiful Lift, and with a shudder and a 

 sigh we, name the other, cold, relentless Death. 



When one isseated at our hearthstone, all around 

 are gsy and joyous. Eyea sparkle, lips smile, cheeks 

 blush, and Life irradiates each countenance with 

 happiness. Sweet, silvery voices respond to our 

 own in tones of love, and band olasps hand with 

 the ardor of friendship. 



Heath enters the circle; and eyes, perchance the 



very one3 that beamed most brightly, are closed, 



the lips are cold and motionless, the cheek is pallid, 



the voice Is no longer heard, the band presses ours 



no more. We gaze with anguish apon the loved 



face which seems as tho' chisel'd from marble; in 



an agony of grief we kiBS those silent lips for the 



last time; and then we make the resting-place of 



the dear one among tho trees and flowers, and 



above the hallow'd turf we shed bitter tears. 



Gloom and darkness fall like a pall upon oar 



>me, and not until years have pasB'd away con we 



ter the name of the departed without a sigh and 



ar. Ah! were It not for the tears that dims oar 



es we should know that we have naught to fear 



am that Heavenly Messenger— Death. We see 



it the celestial beauty of her countenance, the 



ily, star-like radiance of her eyes and her loving 



ule, as Bhe beckons with gentle hand to the 



children of earth to follow her to the Paradise 



above. Oh! Death is no grim warrlor.no insati- 



yrant; but a fair and lovely spirit who opens 



the portal of Eternity to the homeward bound 



pilgrim. 



Life and Death! The one leads us through 

 green vales and flowery dells, beneath the azure 

 dome of Heaven, bal hourly do we see those 

 flowers fade, that sky darkened by clouds. She 

 calls fond and trusting friends to onr side, but 

 estrangement often divides their hearts from ours 

 Doubts, and cares, and fears meet us at every step; 

 pathway grows rough ond wearisome; still we 

 cling to Life. We believe her to be onr most 

 faithful guide. 



But Death comes. N'o bright roses garland her 



brow, bat pure, snowy blossoms mingle with her 



38. She takes our hand in hers, and leads us 



We pause not upon the hillside, nor In the 



seek not the sparkling rill, nor gushing 



fount; through the narrow gateway of the grave 



she makes us pass, and into the glorious realms 



beyoud — that land of fadeless beauty, where the 



River of Life flows with a never-failing current 



(stores to as oar " loved and lost," and they 



leave as more. From whom do we receive 



oat precious heritage— Life or Death? 



The Hexbt'9 Disraxs.— The hef 



: of a 





auil 



carce enoagh to 

 give a kite a meal, yet great In capacity— yea, so 

 indefinite in desire, that the round globe of the 

 world cannot fill the three corners of it! Whenit 

 desires more, and cries, "Give— give!" I will set 

 it over to the infinite good, where the more it bath 

 It may desire more, and see more to be desired.— 

 ItalL 



SIGNS OF THE GOING YEAB. 



Howetik heedless man msy be, Nature has taken 

 " note of time," since our last country gossip, two 

 weeks ago. That twittering people, the Swallows, 

 who Sashed in more diamonds lhan all the beauties 

 of the West, held a grand mass meeting nponthe 

 ridge of the old gray barn, the other day, end after 

 much talk and more flutter, went up In a cloud 

 and commenced their southern flight It was as 

 if fifteen or twenty notes »f the tune you are ting- 

 ing, should rise In a flock and fly away just before 

 you get to them; a pleasant chorus has fallen out 

 of the music of summer, and the hamlet of mud- 

 cottages along the rafters, is already that emptiest 

 of all things, -1081 year's birds' nests." Heap, as 

 yon will, the broad " bay '' of the barn, like Fondy 

 In high Ude, with the fragrant drift from the 

 meadow; let it swell above "the big beam" that 

 never blossoms with anything but memories; and 

 yet without swallows enough to make a summer, 

 how desolate and dumb it all seems. The fellows, 

 too, in red epaulettes, that ewung on the reeds In 

 the pasture, and the Bob-o-linka, that r..ng their 

 sweet bells In the morning, are soldiers and sextons 

 "off duty;" they will not leave ub until October, 

 but they are already breaking up housekeeping, 

 and will lead idle, gipsy Uvea for the remainder of 



The Butternuts are amoDg the first trees that 

 render tribute to Autumn; they have begun to 

 pay down through the still air, many a bright 

 doable-eagle of a leaf, and the paths are strewn 

 with the yellow coin. Here and there a flowering 

 shrub baa grown weary of holding up its bright 

 chalice of beauty, and whole families of violets 

 have shut their bloc ejea for the year. But the 

 little ponds are spangled over with lilies; their 

 leafy islands make on Archipelago of beauty.each 

 with its fair white temple of a flower. But what 

 timid things they are, always keeping jaat out of 

 reach from the shore; and in attempts to secure 

 them, lives, before now, have been lost to gain 

 lilies. The Katydids have come, too, and wrangle 

 the night oat with the same old story. 



Let the grain crop be as vulgar a fraction aa 

 you will nobody can say he ever beheld a ranker 

 luxuriance of vegetation; vinesand grasses, weeds 

 and corn have fairly leaped into life; they grow 

 over the old patha; they tangle all the fields; you 

 must work your way through them, like a fly thro' 

 a green veil But you do not feel quite bo merry, 

 though, as you did In "leafy June," when yon 

 were as frisky, if not as innocent as a li 



late. The leaves — many of them — are beginning 

 to close up the season's business; they liberate 

 more carbonic acid, and yield lees of Nature's t 

 "be joyfuL" 



The thoughtful sadness that Autumn inducei 

 not altogether the spiritual effect men like to fancy 

 it; it is rather because their rations of 

 diminished, than that they are listening to 

 preaching. So, a man needs a great Btock of 



Jtotoih busings. 



NQBL LISTENERS, 



-■ thOT lirj jrr nmr ,1 #v*o, 



PRATER. 



"IWtt, 



rRRsoNB," says Rev. H. W. Reedier, 

 "who come to my door for broad, do not descant 

 on the beauty of waving wbeat-flelde, Ihe value of 

 grist mills and bakeries; nor do they preach horn- 

 Hies on the general goodi 

 cellence of Christian bent 

 please, 



Of /,, 



.Hid 1 



ise; laid away like 

 ime of need. Show u 

 " the melancholy days,' 



re caught cold, and the 

 : sprinkled 



cheerful; 



marrow In hia bones, for 



a woman whoisas merry 



when the hoarse winds '. 



withered leaves rustle al 



and the bare grape vine, that shingled the 



with green, looks like on anaconda trying to so 



low a summer house — who is aa merry then, 



when there Is a "sweet south" and a " bank of 



violets" to make love to, and we will show you 



woman that will gracefully bend to misfortune like 



a flower to the wind, and when the blast has gone 



by, will stand as erect and aa lovely 



Nature indeed has a great many pleasant things 

 to say; many " a sentiment" does ahe propose as 

 she bids ua " fill up," but how often ie it that we 

 drain the cup without hearing the toast Lets 

 man who thinks he loves Nature and listens to ite 

 teachings, first take en Inventory of his stomach. 

 Give us a look at hla cash-hook, tell ub which way 

 the wind is blowing, and we can better determli 

 the genuineness of his affection. If the fine go 

 of his grain field has grown dim, and he had lei 

 for breakfast, and a stiff north coster carried aw. 

 his chimney tops, and yet with a quick ear and 

 loving faith, he repal; 





with i 



nay 1 



o sure ho r 

 ! the love of 



STOET OF A WORKING POET 



Ms. J. G. Witts, an English writer, who has j ur>t 

 published a volume of poems marked by refine- 

 and feeling, gives the following account of 

 :lf: — Ten years ago I could scarcely write a 

 half dozen lines correctly, and six years since I 

 a canvass smock, and worked hard, physical- 

 ly hard, as a porter in Billingsgate market True, 

 i not made a fortune, nor have I a tithe of the 

 knowledge which many a man ha?, without one- 

 fourth the aids possessed by the^present geners- 

 i; nevertheless, I have succeeded in shaking 

 porter's knot from my shoulders (not nocessa- 

 a badge of degradation, but terribly Irksome 

 when surmounted by a couple of hundred weight.) 

 and I hope that I have learned to pen my native 

 e, If not elegantly, with something like re- 

 spectability. Instead of toiling from four o'clock 



In 

 aftcmoo: 



i'il as late as foar 





nee my fish-selling— for I have 



a standing of my own in the market— aboat 



>'olock A. M ., aad finish business at ten. Thus 



i in the possession of a comfortable living, 



an amount of lime at my disposal, which, at 



period of my life, I little dreamed of. Need 



I say I am more contented? My leisure moments 



imployed alternately in reading, stringing 



i, writing stories, cultivating my garden — 



Occasionally— twice a week, perhaps — I have a 



gathering of two or three literary working men, 



a well as others of a higher social position, at my 



ouse, when we talk of poetry, politic* and some- 



imes theology, the night often waxing late ere we 



rjourn. 



lesa of j 



if spli 



>ss of God and the ex- 

 kence. 'Bread, if you 

 O, when shall we have 

 of the spirit of prayer; 



of p/'aai.vg In prayer; 



an tho result, showers 



I !j!c!-HI! 



If I 



perBon has a real burden npon hla heart to 

 lay before God, his prayer will almoitt of coarse be 

 short. Any subject exciting strong feelings fills 

 tho attention to the exclusion of all Irrelevant 

 matter. This 1b frequently seen la our intercourse 

 In the world. Who has not seen a person so full 

 of a subject that he will speak of nothlDg else? 

 If the conversation be changed, be will bring it 

 back; If silence happens, he will break it with the 

 same subject. A person in such a state never 

 plays with the subject which occupies him. lie 

 uses no preface, expletives or circumlocution to 

 get at a point, hut goes directly to IL 



0, my reader, let your prayers be the real ex- 

 pression of the desire of your heart — nothing less 

 and nothing more I Be real at the throne of grace, 

 for rcmembor " God is nut mocked." And pray In 

 faith and tho Holy <;uust, and you shall tho very 

 petition you desire of God.— Morning Star. 



FAITH. 



God has marked implicitness and simplicity of 

 faith with peculiar approbation. He has done this 

 through the Scriptures, and he la dolDg It dally in 

 the Christian lite. An unsuspecting, unquestion- 

 ing, unhesitating spirit, he delights lo honor. He 

 does not doligiitio a credulous, weak, and unstable 

 mind. He gives us full evidence, when he calls 

 and leads; bat he expects to find In ub a disposed 

 heart. Though he gives as not the evidence of 

 sense, yet he gives us such evidences as will be 

 heard by an open ear, and followed by a disposed 

 heart. " Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou 

 host believed ; blessed are they that have not seen, 

 and yet believe!" Wo are witnesses what an open 

 ear and a disposed heart will do In men of the 

 world. If wealth is their pursuit; if a placo pre- 

 sent itself before them; if their persons and fami- 

 lies, and affairs are the object; a whisper, a hint, a 

 probability, a mere chance, Is a sufficient ground 

 of action. It is this very state of mind with re- 

 gard to religion, which God delights In and hon- 

 ors. He seems to put forth hands, and to say,— 

 •I'ut tby hand into mine; follow all my leading; 

 keep thyself attentively to every turn." — Cecil. 



Phovidencb- — No inferior hand hath sketched 

 even so much as the most minute parts of Provi- 

 dence. It was all, from Its Alpha to Its Omegs, 

 from its divine preface to its solemn finis, marked 

 out, designed, sketched, and planned by the mind 

 of the all wise, all knowing God. Hence not even 

 Christ's death was exempt from it He that wings 

 an angel and guides a sparrow, he that protects 

 the hairs of our head from fulling prematurely to 

 the ground, was not likely, wheo be took notice of 

 such little things, to omit in his solemn decrees 

 the greatest wonder of earth's miracles, the death 

 of Christ. No; the bloodstained page of that 

 book, the page which makes both past and foture 

 gloriooa with golden wotdf— 'bat blood-stained 

 page, I say, was as much written of Jehovah, as 



ttwlIU 



. the 



Woeps indeed are but the signs and counters of 

 knowledge, and their currency should be strictly 

 igulsted by the capital which they represent. 



As holiness is the sonl's best evidence, bo It 

 [intlnued spring of comfort to it on the way 

 r, The purest snd sweetest pleasures In this 

 sre the remit of holiness. Till we come to 

 live bollly, we never live comfortably. Heaven is 

 epitomized In holiness; and, to say do more, ft '• 

 peculiar mark by which God has visibly distin- 

 guished bis own from other meu— Psalms *■' 3 — 

 The Lord hath set apart him that is godly for 

 himself Ab if he had Bold, This Is the man, and 

 that the woman, to whom I intend to be good for- 

 thls isa man for me. Oh, holiness, howsur- 

 passlngly glorious art thoo!— Ftavet. 



We say of the blfi 

 world is shot out, t 

 world than the mac 

 blind, ye Indeed art 

 world!— Thotmk. 



hem the visible 

 ror by half the 

 », ye spiritually 

 we by a whole 



