384 



MOORE'S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 



NOV. 27. 



Safes' Sport-, 



Bwntifut the monrngnoulybt 



"HOME, SWEET HOME." 



If there is a spot oil tbe face of this wide world 

 to which we tarn with heart longings and yearn- 

 ings of spirit when mingling with the stranger- 

 hearta of earth, that spot is Home. What soal, 

 however calloused by sin — that destroyer whose 

 breath Is like a poisoned arrow, to leave death and 

 desolation in the midat of onr dearest affeotiona,— 

 however its wealth of love may have diminished 

 by long absence or rough dealing with the world, 

 what heart, we say, over which does not often 

 come dear thoughts of " Home, Sweet Home?" 



The wanderer, the alien from his father's house, 

 with not a friend npoa whom to lean with trust 

 and confidence in those hours which even the 

 stoutest heart has known, when tbe soul, distrust- 

 ing ita own strength and .learning to nestle in tbe 

 arma of affection, instinctively torus to a tried and 

 faithful fneDdforsbelteraad protection; amid the 



A WOMAN'S INFLUENCE. 



" Ho had the rare blessiug to win the love of one 

 f the purest, mildest, and best of women, whose 

 character has ever been present to the writer. He 

 iarried Margaret JJufl'. In the worst days she 

 jver upbruided him by word, look, or gesture, bnt 

 ulways met him as if be was one of the kindest 

 and best of husband* This course on her part 

 humbled bim and made him weep like a child. 



■i the language of Judge Smith to tbe friend 



eady named; and to tboae who knew the stern 



bending public character of tbe character of 



the Judge, it will teach a lesson of how much a 



it woman's love can accomplish. He was at 



last reformed by an instance of her patient love 



1 devotion, as he himself told it: 



The evening before the Return Day of tbe 



Conrt of Common Pleoa for York district a client 



called with fifty notes to be put in suit. Mr. Smith 



■ot in bis office — he was on what is now 



nably called a spree, then a frolic. Mrs. 



Smith received the notes and sat down in the 



f that i 



> Ik- i 





wben mingled wit 



him say:— "I have r, 



»me affords? How aadden- 

 theae is the thought tha 

 i for anch an one to hear 

 1 a friend in the wide, wide 

 world, and at home— they do Dot want me there." 

 The great of earth, whoee brows are wreathed 

 with fame, and whom honora await on every 

 hand — oh, bow vain, how empty those glittering 

 baubles, without the calmer, more quiet joys — the 

 sweets of home. Who would exchange tbe affec- 

 tion he pos-csses in tbe hearts of those who love 

 him there for all tbe greatness and vain praisea 

 of the world? 



Tho student, striving with loneliness and often 

 discouragement in view of the greatness of the 

 task before him, how often, in tbe midst of basy 

 study does the thought of borne and tbe dear ones 

 there come over the mind with an overwhelming 

 force. Perchance, aa we muse in retirement at 

 the twilight honr, we think of a home circle, npon 

 which, if we could but look, ft would be the 

 greatest blessing our lonely hearts would wish. 



But why 1b home so dear? Why does it throw 

 aronnd ns a potent spell, more lasting than that of 

 the charmer, and whose pleasures are greater 

 than aright else this beautiful earth affords? — 

 We are bound to It by little cords of love, and 

 these are not brittle threadB, but twine their deli- 

 oate fibres aronnd and around ua again, until they 

 are stronger than flaxen bands or iron chains. 

 Man is a social being, and affection Is one of tbe 

 noblest attributes of bis nature. Nowhere is it eo 

 opportunely exercised as at borne. Others may 

 engage onr love for a time, but theBO too often 

 prove false and turn coldly Uum as; while in the 

 home circle arc Iong-lrled friends, and we may 

 trust them, for they love ua — a reason in itself 

 sufficient to prove a safeguard for every ill for 

 every emergency In life. If we are sick, where 

 shall we go bat to onr home? What bonds can 

 tend ns bo gently as those we love? Are we in 

 Borrow — who can sympatbizo with ns eo fully? 

 And who bat they will overlook onr faults and 

 bear with onr imperfections? Aronnd that spot 

 cluster nil the recollections of by-gone days, beau- 

 tiful flowers In tbe garland of memory. 



In helpless infanoy, home is the cradle of pro 

 tectlon for the tiny visitor to the stranger-land of 

 earth, In wayward youth, it Is tho safeguard from 

 the templer'a power— tho haven of rest for tl 

 thuriaatio eouL In manhood, wben mingling with 

 the world in busy duly, it is a retreat lor the tired 

 and weary mind; and, basking in the memory of 

 other days, n gain B strength for futore ecei 

 life. In old age, it Uvea In memory, although long 

 ago it may have ceased to live in reality. If 

 earthly homes are so dear, how much dearer will 

 be our Father's home, the home of eternal re 

 heaven, when, WOftry with lhe to „ 8 of eMth 

 work ftacompKAtr], we shall go where partings 

 are no more. Janb e ^ 



Piffdrf, N. V., 1PM. 



How cosily one can ten whether a man is gla 

 from within ; or whether it l 3 only the play of th_ 

 sunbeams that chance to fall npon aim> Hap. 

 pioeaa is not the work of u ebbel Bud mallet- not 

 mortised into the eoal, it Is "put ont" like the arm 

 of a tie?, whose green, unraveled sleeve Butters 

 with tho Ufa It shares.— Taylor. 



VINDICATION OF HOOFS. 



Bi.il does not wear hoops! Is It possible? 

 delightfully disappointed "Truth Skekbr" 



respond to his sentiments! As for us, we went 

 itraightway into wonder-laud to ascertain if It was 

 my Aiisli* that we ever knew. But we are confi- 

 dent they all wear hoops. We wear them, too, and 



ihem not only because they are more oon- 



at to walk in.nud mere comfortable, especially 



rm weatheuj bat because they are f.isl<icmvJ>lt, 

 and we would not set ourselves up for a model for 



'orld to imitate. Wo fear that "Truth- 

 8bbksr" cherishes a vain hope, namely, that these 

 butterflies are in the last stage of their existence, 



rsriety i6 tbe spice of life," iu dress as every- 

 thing else, and very Boon something new will be 

 introduced, equally absurd, to shock the taste of 



lensitive people, 

 we do not consider ourselves, or all others, 



hoose to uphold fashion, as mere butterflies, 

 devoid of sense or intelligence, for we have seen 

 few really sensible women who tolerate the 

 ridiculous fashion. Ab for tbe Antl Hoopologiets 

 who would find spirits congenial, come to Egypt 

 tarry awhile on tbe banks of the Wabash, and 

 here, at least, we will vouchsafe that your sense of 

 propriety will not be shocked by the sight ot 



e who are "greater tbau God made them." 



e spent the night at work — Mr. 

 i in riotous living. At daylight, on his way 

 from his carousals, he saw a light in his 

 . and stepped in, and to his great surprise saw 

 miable wife, who bad just completed what 

 : to have been his work, with her head on tbe 

 and asleep. His entry awoke her, She told 

 wbat she bad done, and showed him her 

 'a work— fifty writs and processes! This 

 bowed tbe strong man; he fell on his knees, im- 

 plored her pardon, and then and there faithfully 

 ir never to drink another drop while 

 This promise,' says my friend, Col. 

 Williams, 'be faithfully kept,' and, said the Judge 

 him, 'from that day everything which I touched 

 turned to gold,' ' His entire success in life,' says 

 CoL Williams, 'he set down to Mb faithful oh- 

 rvance of this noble promise.'" 

 No better eulogy could be pronounced on Mrs. 

 nith than has just been given in tbe words of 

 her distinguished husband. The reformation of 

 William Smith is a cbaplet of glory 

 which few women have been permitted to wear. 

 To the people of South Carolina, and especially of 

 York district, certainly no stronger argument in 

 favor of temperance, total abstinence, need be 



ADVICE TO LADIES. 



Havb the feet wet! protected, then pay the next 

 attention to the chest. The chest is the repository 

 of the vital organs. There abide the heart and 

 longs. It Is from the impression made upon these 

 organs, through the skin, that the shiver comes 

 It is nature's quake— tbe alam bell at the onset of 

 daDger. A woman never shivers from tbe effect 

 of cold npon her limbs, or hands, or head; butlet 

 the cold strike through her clothing on her chest, 

 and off goes her teeth into a. chatter, end the whole 

 organism is in a commotion. One sudden and 

 severe impression of oold upon the cheat has Blain 

 its ten of thousands. Therefore, while the feet are 

 Well looked after, never forget tbe chest. These 

 points attended to, the natural connection of the 

 dress will supply tbe reBt, and the woman is ready 

 for the air. Now lot her visit ber neighbors, go 

 shopping, call uprm tbe poor, and walk for tho 

 good of it, or the fun of it. 



Eeep away from me stove or register. Air that 

 iBdry or burnt, more or less charged with gas< 

 evolved by the fuel, is poison. Go up 



Fly I 



> tbor 



Don' 



tight cam; neither will women. They need air, 

 If the shivor ooroes on during these operations, go 

 directly and put on something more about the 



Again, do not live in dark rooms. Light fades 

 the carpet, but It feeds the flower. No living ani- 

 mal or vegetable cau enjoy health in darkness. 

 Light is also necessary as air, and a brown tan Ib 



Sympathy is muoh more catching than intelll 

 genoe. Anybody can feel, but every body cannot 

 nee pity for a person brought intc 



prodoced by a knowledge of his 



It Is said that the ivy will not cling to a poll 

 oustree or unbalance. What a piry that the I 

 drlls of a woman's heart have not tbe same salutary 

 Instinct. 



$Mn ffftoltag. 



LINGEEERGS WITH NATUBE.-NO. III. 



mjtift/l aa a dream! Varied as the crowd- 

 ing memories of a blissful hour! Calm and rip 

 pling aa tho tide of pleasant thoughts and glad 

 emotions! Bright aa the glittering dew-drop upon 

 the morning flower, — a clear, dark eye in the glow 

 ing face of peerless Nature. Who can revel in 

 its ever fresh beauty and not be inspired with holier 

 thoughts and impelled to loftier action? It is no 

 marvel that the villas of puets and artists throng 

 its banks, and that their labors hetray the ailment 

 upon whloh they feed. Where e!ae could thought 

 be bo clear and strong, action so easy and rapid, 



grouping of rock and river, of cliff and bay, of 

 highland and valley, and such a suggesting of 

 beauty and strength, rapture and power, joy and 

 worship? What wonder that it should have been 

 the burden of song and the theme of many a story? 

 Could Irving eltewbere have found subjects for 

 his fanciful legends and wierd tales, quaint and 

 old? Where else could Willis and Morris have 

 caught their flawing numbers and gentle measures, 

 save from tbe lines of grace and forms of beauty 

 ever visible from tbeir own doorsteps? Where 

 better could the artiste, who linger in their sweet 

 vine-ctad homes, study Nature in her diviner forms? 

 Even the Btolid eye of tha uuobserviog traveler 

 lightens, as each new winding of the river reveals 

 beautiful vistas, changing and picturesque as the 

 visions of an enchantiog day-dream. 



From the broad Tappan Zr_e to the wide stream 

 lluwing placidly hetween the lowland biuka near 

 Albany, the heart is warmed, the imagination kin- 

 dled and the soul fired through Nature's melting 

 and elevating Influence, The Palisades, tho frown- 

 ing rocks, the distant mountai □, the bold hills end 

 the gentle slopaa, suggest the graud castle beyond, 

 towering from a lofty height, surrounded by the 

 smooth lawu and skirted by tho beautiful atrcim. 

 Pleasant vagariea of thought come and go with 

 tbe flitting shadows, and linger Hbout the tiny 

 white-sailed vessels as they gleam iu tho dewy 

 morning. A dawoiug of new mental vision,— a 

 dispersing of inward fogs and rnlsta, — a glfrupso 

 beyond tho regions of doubt and cavils of fear,— o 

 blissful graspiogof thought before sealed, oome 

 with each changing feature of the far-famed 

 Hudson. 



Lot those who are weary of tho world. — those 

 who arc chafed and scourged by disaster and dis- 

 appointment,— middeued by falbO hopes and em- 

 bittered by unexposed perfidy, find the healing 

 balm whioh Nature and Art here offer,— let them 

 drink freely of this holy in-<pira,'ion aud theirstrug- 

 gles with di atlny are over, their wounds are healed. 



West Point!— almost the oreatnre of an encbou 

 tor's wand, yet a Military Soboall—n drill, amid 

 ecene3 only befitting glurluuu dreams and their 

 vivid realizitiou ! No suggestions of bloody war- 

 fare or fiighllul mvsacre linger in the shadowy 

 nooks or upon tbe island — gems which bedeck the 

 shining water. No memories of desperate mid- 

 night attack or silent retreat hannt tho bold iront 

 of Stony Point, or cling to the broad level of 

 White Plains. No mnfflod oars gently etir the 

 calm water, and no sharp report rings over tbe 

 giove-dotted banks. 



Sweet aud soothinp, Inspiriting and nerving, 

 rousing and strengthening, no newer scenes or 

 more earnest pursuits can banish ft* memory or 

 annul its growing iLfiuooco. A day upon the 

 Hudson is embalmed, engrafted in tbe soul. There 



do stagnation is so hopeless, no stupidity so life- 

 leas that it may not be movd by such a mingling 

 of beauty and varle'y. grandeur aud sublimity. 



■eptlle, whose venom is a thousand 

 gerous to society than the most 

 aiof an Asiatic Jungle, 



LESSONS OF THE SEASON. 



T.i.:: 



eotid-" in the year— a season, 

 as wc cow witness, when the sun withdraws hla 

 propitious light, when the winds arise and the 

 [eaves tail, »nd nature around us seems to sink into 

 decay. It is said, In general, to be the season of 

 melancholy; and if by this word be meant that It 

 is tbo time of solemn aud of serious thought, it is 

 undoubtedly tho season of melancholy; yet It is a 

 melancholy eo soothing, so gentle in Its approach, 

 audso prophetic iu us influence, that they who 

 have known it feel, instinctively, that it is the 

 doing of God, aud that the heart oi man is not thus 

 Quely touohea bat to hue issues. 



When we go out iuto the fluids In the evening of 

 the year, a diUeienl voice approaches us. We re- 

 gard, even in spite of ourselves, the still but steady 

 advance of time. A lew days ago, and the summer 

 of the year was grateful, and every element was 

 rilled with lite, and the bud ol Heaven seemed to 

 glory in bia ascendant. He is now enfeebled in 

 his power; the desert no more " blossoms like the 

 rose;" the song of joy is no more beard among 

 the branches; and the earth is strewed with that 

 foliage which once bespoke the magnificence of 

 summer. Whatever may be the passions which 

 sooiery have awakened, we pause affita this appa- 

 rent desolation of nature. Wo sit down in the 

 lodge "of the wayfaring man in the wilderness," 

 and wo feel that all we witness is the emblem of 

 our own fate. Such also In a fan yeara will be onr 

 own condition. The blossoms of onr spring, the 

 pride of our summer, will also fade into decay; 

 and the pulse which now beats high with virtuous 

 or with vicious desire, will gradually fink, and 

 then must stop forever. We rise from our medita- 

 tions with hearts softened and subdued, and we re- 

 turn into Ufa as into a shadowy ecene, where we 

 have "disquieted ourselves in vain," 



Yet a lew >eare, we think, and all that now bless, 

 or all that now convulse humanity, will also have 

 perished. The mightiest pageantry of life will 

 pass — the loudest notes of triumph or of conquest 

 will be silent in the grave; tha wicked, wherever 

 active, '-will cease from troubling," and tbe weary, 

 wherever suffering, " will be at rest." Under an 

 impression so profound we 'eel our own beans 

 better. The cares, the animoBities, the hatreds 

 which society may have engendered, sink unper- 

 oeived from our bosoms. In the general desola- 

 tion of nature we feel the littleness of our own 

 passions— we look forward to that kindred even- 

 ing which time must bring to all — we anticipate 

 tbe graves of those we hate, as of those we love. 

 Every unkind passion falls with the leaves that fall 

 around us; and we return to our homes aud to the 

 society which surrounds us, with the wish only to 

 enlighten or to bless them. 



If there were no other effects, my brethren, of 

 suck appearances of nature upon onr minds, they 

 would Bill! be valuable — they would teach ua 

 humility, and with it they would teach ub charity. 



-Un 



l An.,. 



I't'.'ftt 



i for 



shouldered, deep-chested vigorous November, who 

 leaps with sn elastic bound Into the arena! He 

 has divested himself of all superfluous clothing; 

 every limb is bare, and his brawny trunk stands in 

 glorious majesty, while his head, encircled by a 

 coronet of the purple vine and scarlet berries, pro- 

 claims him the King of the Autumn! Doomed as 

 he is, deserted by his fleeting brethren, pressed by 

 tbo advancing legiona of glonmy Winter, he still 

 looks ' every inch a king !' He has gathered about 

 bim his vassals, who neither trembles with fear nor 

 look pale at the pnrtects arnund them, but every 

 one has thrown down his leafy gauntlet and bent 



H3 



s N,.v 



nkii.g 



"to the mellow cadence of the Indian Sommer, 

 amid the blazonry of the golden maple, tbe gor- 

 geous crimson of the forestc, and tbe bright scarlet 

 of tbe running vines which girt his sturdy guard 

 of oaks," and concludes thna: 



" Who fhen can assent to the poet's idea that 

 with November, 'the melancholy days have come, 

 tho saddest of the year?' Not we! There is no 

 sadne83 in any work of God'a providence; he 

 orders (ill things iu kiudness, and his smile can 

 warm this lust autumnal month and make it gor- 

 geous iu the sunshine which fills the human soul 

 with gratitude, and illuminates it with the full, 

 bright and beatific knowledge of his Eternal 



Wa al.ioi.ld 1 



COUHAGE. 



ave trouble as the New England 

 buy braves winter. Thosohool Is a mile away over 

 the hill, yet he ling ts not by the lire, but with his 

 books slung over his shoulder, snd bis cup tied 

 closely under his chin, be seta tonh to face tbe 

 storm. And when he reaches tbe top mult ridge, 

 wheie the powdered fnow lies in drifce, and tbe 

 north wind come j teen and biting, does he shrink 



lefy t 





osccs the snow wreaths with his foot, aud eo, erect 

 nd lea less, wi'h strong heart and raddy cheek, be 

 ;oes on to bis place at tchool 



Now, when tbo fierce winds of adversity blow 

 iver you, and your life's summer lies bnried be- 



, fr.-! 



i.ud i 





sluk coa-atd'y down by the way, 

 your course for nriHieuUry warmth and shelter, 

 but, with stout hc.irt and firm Step, fio forward iu 

 God's strength u> vanquish trouble, and to bid de- 



auibitinn* it is not when ambition Is easy, bat when 

 it is hard. Fight in d-irUnoss; fight when you aie 

 down; die hard, and jou won't die a'. alL That 

 gelatinous man, whose bones are not even amides, 

 and whoe.C musclea are pulp, that rasa is a coward. 

 — Bmry Ward Beeehir. 



ORBtTNBsa— A great, a goud, and a right mind 

 is a kind of divinity lodged In rle>b, and may be the 

 blessing of u slave as well as of n prince; it came 

 from heaven, and to beaten it must return; — 

 and it is u kind of heavenly felicity, whloh a pur© 

 and virtuous miud enjoys in some degree, even 



Wbatli i|§m.swj|j8. 



FEARING TO GO. 



.ogtb to hdp In n«ci 



THE GOOD WE MIGHT DO. 



Fellow PiLflKina, did you ever thiofc of the 

 amount of good you might do in your journey 

 through this transitory world? Did yon ever re- 

 flect upon the parpose for which existence la 

 given? Lias tbe serious (juestioa of what it is to 

 live, and move, and have your being, ever been tho 

 theme of deep, continued meditation during the 



: BhOl 



Or, 



year after year rolled by, in time's nnconscions 

 flight, without your asking, "from whence did I 



come? whither am I tending? where am I going? 1 ' 

 It may be that your calling has occupied all your 

 hours aavetbose which nature demands for repose. 

 Peradventure the exigencies of worldly affairs 

 have kept all yonr powers engaged In their service, 

 and, eveD when the mind would revert to the prob- 

 lem of life,— the mysteries connected with mnn- 

 dauo existence, — you turned a deaf ear to tho 

 warniDga of e»nsHeoce, aad paused not a moment 

 to beer its hied pleadings in your bebair. 



Man is a rational intelligent being, and in order 

 to know and acknowledge his duty and responsi- 

 bility, he must pause and medicate. Bear with ns, 

 reader, while we offer some suggestions concern- 

 ing our mission here. Let us take for our starring 

 point the simple inquiry found in the nhorter 

 Catechism, so plain that the mere child can com- 

 prehend it: — For what purpose waa man ere 

 ated? .'Ins-. — To glorify Gon aud enjoy him forever. 

 This definite reply gives us the key by whloh we 

 may unlock tbe door of wisdom, and get access to 

 tbe richest stores of koowledge. Now, if we would 

 know how to glorify Him, let us read His Word.— 

 No better portion of tbe Sacred Volume could bo 

 found as a guide for adoption in life, than one of 

 the Ten Commandments, which says, "thou shalt 

 love the Lord tby God with all thy heart, with all 

 thy strength, and all thy mind, and tby neighbor es 

 thyself." Once let the race fully comprehend tho 

 Import of this command, and act upon it— the Mil- 



ts this is 



addressed to each individual of t 



it is strictly applicable to you,— 



great work of regaining what was lost by the fall 



is clearly pointed out If jou obey tho first request 



in tbe passage quoted, viz. — "Love tbe Lord tby 



of these is found ia the last clause, — "Love thy 

 neighbor as thyself." A neighbor may be either 



Tbe good that you might do is now evident If 

 you feel a deep, abiding interest in tbe welfare of 

 those around you, and know in your own soul that 

 many are leading a life entirely opposite to that 

 standard by which we judge the friends and ene- 

 mies of Cod, can you see them journeying on in 

 that road which leads to destruction, without ever 

 warning them of tbe imminent danger which 

 attends their wayward course. Probahly there are 

 'hose in your own family, — living under tbe same 

 root that shelters your head, — and, it may be, some 

 allied to yon by the strongest ties of affeuiion, who 

 are verging upon tbe very brink that separates 

 them from eternity, and to whom you not even 

 broach the subject of religion. Perhaps seasons 

 occur when they feel a strong inclination to con- 

 sider this matter — when conscience rebokesthem 

 for past acta, and the soft pillow affords no rest, — 

 and their proud hearts forbid their telling of the 

 strivings of the Spirit What a relief it would be 

 if so met friend would only come to their aid and 

 direct, advise, and comfort — pointing them to the 

 "Lamb of God that takelb away the sins of tho 



Think not that religion, however grave the 

 aspect may appear to others, ia always unpleasant 

 to them. Think not that your efforts to do all the 

 good you can will he unfclt and treated with oon- 

 tenipt— that your best endeavors will fail to be 

 appreciated or to ultimately benefit the world. 

 " The good we do here Uvea after ns." As instru- 

 ments ia the hands of an Omniscient Rnlcr, we may 





j thoughtlessly p 



Wo are told to "convert Biunera from the error of 

 their ways, and save souls from dealt.." Who does 

 not long for the rlav wben evorj profeSBlng Chris- 

 tian will be active, zealous agenta of God, "going 

 about doing good, " reasoning with their fellows, 

 tellinK thntn of the 'Savior they have found" — 

 defining the plan of salvation, aud the richta of 

 mercy. It la time for that day, — it should he 

 now. "Procrastination is the thief of time;" and 

 ifmaoy who spend a good portion of tbis short 

 pilgrimage in waiting for something to "turn np," 

 would go earnestly to work, with concert aud 

 unity of aotion, iho blessings of Heaveu would 

 ■imile npon them, and earth rejoice at tlu gooithty 



McDtinimgh, Del., 1868. 



Hb that Is good, will Infallibly become bettor, 

 and he that ia bad, will as certainly beoome worse; 

 for vice, virtoe and time are three things that nev- 

 or stand still. — Colton. 



Whbn one sin is admitted, It Is generally found 

 that It haa a companion waiting at the door, aad 

 tha former will work bard to gain admission for 

 the latter. 



