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MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
RURAL RHAPSODIES.—NO. 7. 
BY WILL WICKLIFFE. 
WHISTLING WINDS. 
Blow on fierce winds; thou art telling a 
tale that I loveth to hear—a story of days 
gone by. Mighty in thy strength, rush 
madly on, although thy presence is not wel¬ 
comed by all, yet canst tliou teach a lesson 
of profit or entertain with a pleasing song. 
How the great trees bow in humble sub¬ 
mission to thy will, and the lesser ones look 
up to their superiors, and as imitators, 
incline their servile forms. Monarch thou 
art, and recognizing thee as such, thy sub¬ 
jects are ever ready to do thee homage. 
Man, can you not discern your own 
strength; why then, will you fall before the 
breath of fellow man ? Shameful degreda- 
tion!—arise in thy strength, man; be firm, 
and tyranny will drag and hide its attenu¬ 
ated form forever from thy sight. The tall¬ 
est and stoutest tree stands the most firm 
and murmurs not, but the scraggy dwarf 
moans, and writhes and twists about in uni¬ 
son with its own discordant sounds. The 
power of the wind is aimed at the towering- 
oak ; but when it is felled it makes the earth 
quake, while its insignificant fellow stands 
trembling—a voiceless spec:a‘.0”. 
I love to listen to thy thrilling notes, tuned 
beneath the eaves of my valley home. A 
bright spirit appeareth in my day-dreams, 
and its fairy-form glides giddily about; 
the tripping of tiny feet is distinctly audi¬ 
ble, and wild notes strike harmoniously into 
mine ear. It is a vision of the past. Long 
is the scroll that bears a catalogue of the 
pleasures of my youth upon it. Imaginary 
sorrow then, is a real pleasure to contem¬ 
plate now. Gone, gone, forever gone, are 
those careless hours, but still there lingers a 
halo of lustrous beauty that reflects bright¬ 
ly upon the tablet of memory; the sediment 
has settled to the bottom and left the rich 
cream swimming in its purity at the top. 
In no other place is the power of mind 
so beautifullj'^ illustrated as upon the dis¬ 
turbed waters. Wave after wave come 
foaming and tumbling toward the rock-bound 
shore, and dashes with its strength against 
the unyielding barrier that checks its pro¬ 
gress, and sends shooting forth myriads of 
little water spouts, which having their force 
exhausted, come pouring in torrents into 
their native element again. 
Here, reclining in the great arm chair,. 
in this snug retreat of mine, can no damp¬ 
ened breath of wind reach me; but its wild 
whistling sends a tingling sensation through 
ray body, as I instinctively draw my limbs 
in close proximity, and settle the deeper into 
the massive cushions, the gentle pressure of 
which imparts a spirit of comfort that cheers 
the mind and leads one to study and appre¬ 
ciate the worth of a happy home. Think 
of this ye thoughtless ones, shielded from 
the battlings of the fierce elements, and dis¬ 
tinguish the contrast between your condi¬ 
tion and that of the friendless wanderer, 
who hath no shelter at night nor bread by 
day, but patiently endures all of the tortures 
that earth only can inflict, and calmly awaits 
the approach of the eternal night that bi-ing- 
eth sleep to those moistened eyelids—never 
to awake to the stern realities of a cold, cold- 
hearted world. 
Glen Cole, 1850. 
PHYSICAL INFLUENCE OF HABIT. 
Proficiency in all handicrafts is the le¬ 
gitimate result of the physical influence of 
habits. The blacksmith makes a nail, for 
instance, well and quickly only after many 
and often repeated trials. The hand and 
eye must be educated—habituated to the 
work, and then they cannot fail. It is so 
with all mechanical professiona The arti¬ 
san by a long apprenticeship becomes ac¬ 
quainted with the use of the proper tools 
and at last the master of his trade,—and 
the habits then acquired, whatever may be 
his after situation, will influence his whole 
life. _____ 
Carlyle asks, ‘What thing to admire has 
America ever produced ?’ She has pro¬ 
duced a girl deaf, dumb, and blind, who with 
her own hands did sewing enough to send 
a barrel of flour to Ireland’s starving people 
—the victims of a tyranical nation you so 
much admire. 
It is more difficult to conceal the senti¬ 
ments that we have to feign than those that 
\. 0 have not 
“GIVE ME BACK MY HUSBAND!” 
BY ELIHU BURRITT. 
Not many years since, a young married 
couple, from the far “ fast-anchored isle,” 
sought our shores with the most sanguine 
anticipations of prosperity and happiness.— 
They had begun to realize more than they 
had seen in the visions of hope, when in an 
evil hour, the husband was tempted “to 
look upon the wine when it was red,” and 
to taste of it “ when it gives its color in the 
cup.” The charmer fastened upon its vic¬ 
tim all the serpent spells of its sorcery, and 
he fell; and at every step of his degrada¬ 
tion from the man to the brute, and down- 
Avard, a heart-string broke in the bosom of 
his companion. 
h’inally, Avith the last spark of hope flick¬ 
ering on the altar of her heart, she thread¬ 
ed her Avay into one of those shambles 
Avhere man is made such a thing as the 
beasts of the field Avould bellow at. She 
pressed her Avay through the Bacchanalian 
croAvd Avho Avere reveling there in their OAvn 
ruin. With her bosom full of “ that peril¬ 
ous stuff that preys upon the heart,” she 
stood before the plunderer of her husband’s 
destiny, and exclaimed in tones of startling 
anguish, “ Give me back my husband! ” 
“ There’s your husband,” said the man, 
as he pointed toAvard the prostrate Avretch. 
“ That my husband! What have you done 
to him? That my husband! What haA^e 
you done to that noble form4hat once, like 
a giant oak, held its protecting shade OA^er 
the fragile vine that clung to it for support 
and shelter? That my husband! With 
Avhat torpedo chill have you touched the 
sineAvs of that manly arm ? That my hus¬ 
band! What have you done to that once 
noble brow, Avhich he Avore high among his 
felloAA's, as if it bore the superscription of 
the Godhead? That my husband! What 
haA'e you done to that eye, Avith Avhich he 
was Avont to “ look erect on heaven,” and 
see in his mirror the image of his God?— 
What Egyptian drug have you poured into 
his veins, and turned the ambling fountains 
of the heart into black and burning pitch ? 
Give me back my husband! Undo your 
basalisk spells, and give me back the man 
that stood Avith me at the altar! ” 
The ears of the rum-seller, ever since 
the first demijohn of that burning liquid 
was opened upon the shores, have been sa¬ 
luted, at every stage of the traffic, AA'ith just 
such appeals as this. Such AviA’es, such 
widoAVS and mothers, such fiitherless chil¬ 
dren, as never mourned in Israel at the 
massacre ^f Bethlehem, or at the burning 
of the Temple, hai^e cried in his ears, morn¬ 
ing, night, and evening, “ Give me back my 
husband! Give me back my boy! Give 
me back my brother! ” 
But has the rum-seller been confounded 
or speechless at these appeals? No! not 
he. He could show his credentials at a 
moment’s notice, Avitli proud defiance. He 
ahvays carried in his pocket a Avritten abso¬ 
lution for all he had done, and could do, in 
his Avork of destruction. He had bought a 
letter of indulgence! I mean a license! 
a precious instrument, signed and sealed 
by authorisy stronger and more respectable 
than the Pope’s. He confounded! Why, 
the Avhole artilleiy of civil power AA^as ready 
to open in his defence and support. Thus 
shielded by the -^Egis of the laAv, he had 
nothing to fear from the enemies of his 
traffic. He had the image and superscrip¬ 
tion of Caesar on his credentials, and unto 
Caesar he appealed, and unto Caesar too, his 
victims appealed, and appealed in vain. 
MARRIED MEN. 
So good was he, that I noAv take the op¬ 
portunity of making a confession Avffiich I 
have often had upon my lips, but have hes¬ 
itated to make, from the fear of draAving 
upon myself the hatred of every married 
Avoman. But noAV I Avill run the risk—so 
now for it — some time or other, people must 
unburden their hearts. I confess, then, that 
I never find, and never have found a man 
more lovable, more captivating, than Avhen 
he is a married man; that is to say, a good 
married man. A man is never so hand¬ 
some, never so perfect, in my eyes, as Avhen 
he is married, as when he is a husband, and 
the father of a family, supporting in his 
manly arms, Avife and children, and the 
Avhole domestic circle Avhich, in his entrance 
into the married state, closes around him, 
and constitutes a part of his home and his 
world. He is not merely ennobled by this 
position, but he is actually beautified by it. 
Then he appears to me as the crown of cre¬ 
ation ; and it is only such a man as this who 
is dangerous to me, and with whom I am 
inclined to fall in love. And Moses, and all 
European legislators declare it to be sinful, 
and all married women Avould consider it a 
sacred duty to stone me. Nevertheless, I 
cannot prevent the thing. It is so, and it 
cannot be otherwise; and my only hope of 
appeasing those ay ho are excited against me 
is in my further confession, that no love af¬ 
fects me so pleasantly; the contemplation of 
no happiness makes me so happy, as that 
betAveeu married people. It is amazing to 
myself, because it seems to me that I living- 
unmarried or mateless, have Aviththat hap¬ 
piness little to .do. But it is so, and it al¬ 
ways was so.— Miss Bremer. 
NOVEL FORTUNE OF A SCOTCHMAN. 
In the spring of 1826, a stately Indian 
Chief, accompanied by three young men, 
who, from their striking resemblance to him, 
appeared to be his sons, presented a Avritten 
order, regularly signed and sealed, from the 
agent of the British Government at Montreal 
to the Commandant of the store and fort 
on the frontier of the Indian country, for 
some poAvder, Avhich Avas included in the 
subsidies annually granted to the Aborigines. 
The robes Avorn by the Chief and his re¬ 
tinue of sons, Avere of Avhite buffiflo skin. 
umorons mib Imnsing. 
YANKEE PHRASES. 
As sound as a nut o'er the plain, 
I of late whistled chuck full of glee! 
A stranger to sorrow and pain. 
As happy as happy could be. 
As plump as a partridge I grew, 
My heart being lighter than cork; 
My slumbers were calmer than dew. 
My body was fatter than pork. 
Thus happy I hoped I should pass 
Slick as grease down the current of time; 
But pleasures are brittle as glass, 
Although as a fiddle they’re fine. 
richly ornamented Avith Avampum, and fring¬ 
ed Avith long black locks of hair. Tavo horns 
protruded from the head of the old Chief, 
and a stuffed black haAvk was perched be¬ 
tween them as his crest. Over his shoulder 
hung a superb red ponko, and his light blue 
legging-s and broAvn moccasons, Avere pro¬ 
fusely ornamented Avith silver bells. 
The Commandant of the fort surveyed the 
noble looking Indian for some time in pleas¬ 
ed wonder, as he executed the order pre¬ 
sented to him. 
“ Look, brother,” said the Indian to the 
Avhite man who accompanied him to the 
stockade in front of the fort; “these are the 
Chiefs of ten bands of the Athabasco Chip- 
pe, who are Avaiting for the poAvder of their 
great father beyond the salt lake; and woe 
to the Sioux of the South when they have 
it in their pouches ?” 
“ You speak English Avell, sir,” said the 
Commandant, Avith surprise, as he listened 
to the Indian’s voice. 
“I ought,” replied the Chief, Avitha laugh; 
“it is my native tongue—I am a Scotchman.” 
“A Avhat!” cried the Commandant, grasp¬ 
ing his hand, and looking at him Avitli sur¬ 
prise ; “ and from Avhat part did you come ?” 
“From Carruber’s Close, Avhere the hou¬ 
ses are loftier than those magnolias, and the 
brae steeper than the acclivity of that bluff.” 
“I am from Old Assembly Close!” cried 
the Commandant, and if I have not met you 
before, you must have been an extraordina¬ 
rily quiet boy.” 
“Ah!” cried the Chief, forgetting his 
present position in the recollections ot his 
early days; “I Avas Black Mack, the leader 
of the bickers in the Nor Loch; noAv I am 
Black IlaAvk, the head Chief of the Chip- 
pewas.” The smile instantly passed off the 
lips of the- stately warrior as he said so, and 
he became brave and stern. 
“ I recollect you!” cried the Commandant 
striking his hands together; “ John Ken¬ 
ney, the ToAvn Guard, took you prisonei-, 
as he did me. You Avent to sea, and I to 
the army.” 
The Chief burst into a fit of loud laugh- I 
ter at the mention of John Kinney’s name; j 
and, sitting doAAMi while he Avaved his hand 
for his sons to retire, he exchanged recollec¬ 
tions of Edinburgh—its ancient days and 
^yays—bickers and “ toon rats,” Avith his old 
comrade for an hour. At last he took his 
leave after having recounted his story. 
“Yes, comrade,” he said, “ a lovelier girl 
than White Feather never bleached linen in 
Beresord’s park, and a better never wore 
/Silken kirtle. I became a son to her father, 
and she is noAV the mother of these boys.— 
My knowledge of the English fur trader, 
induced the tribe, independent of other cir¬ 
cumstances, to regard me Avith favor, and 
at last they selected me their head Chief. 
Farewell! Little Avould Bailie Beans, aaJio 
tried me, suppose that the ChippeAva Chief, 
Black HaAvk, is his old friend, ragged Black 
Mack.” _ _ 
HOW TO GET TO SLEEP. 
Hoav to get to sleep is, to many persons, 
a matter of high importance. Nervous 
persons, Avho are troubled Avith wakefulness 
and excitability, usually have a strong ten¬ 
dency of blood to the brain, Avith cold ex¬ 
tremities. The pressure of blood on the 
brain keeps it in a stimulated or Avakeful 
state, and the pulsations in the head are 
often painful. Let such rise and chafe the 
body and extremities Avith a crash tOAvel, or 
rub smartly Avith the hands, to promote cir¬ 
culation, and AvithdraAvthe excessive amount 
of blood from the brain, and they Avill fall 
asleep in a fcAV moments. A cold bath, or 
sponge bath, and rubbing, or a good run, 
or rapid Avalk in the open air, or going up 
and doAvn stairs a foAV times, just before re¬ 
tiring, will aid in equalizing circulation and 
promoting sleep. These rules are simple, 
and easy of application in castle or cabin, 
and may minister to the comfort of thou¬ 
sands Avho Avould freely expend money for 
an anodyne to promote “Nature’s sweet re¬ 
storer, balmy sleep.” 
Labor and Good Temper.—T he doom 
of labor is a blessing, not a curse, and it is 
a sound maxim, in time of enlightened phi¬ 
lanthropy, to assume that poverty is the re¬ 
sult of Avant of occupation, for it is idleness 
that begets seven-eighths of the vice, pro- 
fligacy, and crime, that tAvine Avith poverty. 
Let young people remember that industry 
and good temper will gain them more es¬ 
teem and happiness than the genius and 
talents of all the bad men that ever existed. 
Keep at AVork if you would be happy; there 
is more enjoyment in sweating an hour than 
in yawning a century, and in one victory 
over yourself than in a thousand paroxysms 
of anger or gratifications of revengeful 
feelings. 
Jatrc smiled like a basket of chips — 
As tall as a maypole her size — 
-As sweet as molasses her lips — 
As bright as a button her eyes. 
I sought her affections to win, 
In hope of obtaining relief; 
’Till 1, like a hatchet grew thin, 
And she like a haddock, grew deaf. 
I late was as fat as a doe. 
And playful and spry as a rat; 
But now 1 am dull as a hoe. 
And as lean and as weak as a cat. 
Unless the unpitying fates 
With passion as ardent will cram her. 
As certain as death or as rates, 
I soon shall be dead as a hammer. 
POWERFUL REASONING. 
At a young men’s debating society some¬ 
where doAvn in Indiana, the question for dis¬ 
cussion was — “ Which is the greatest evil, 
a scolding Avife or a smoky chimney ?” After 
the appointed disputants had concluded the 
debate, a spectator rbse, and begged the 
privilege of “ making a feAv remarks on the 
occasion.” Permission being granted, he 
delivered himself in this way: “Mr. Presi¬ 
dent, I’ve been almost mad a-listening to 
the debate of these ’ere youngsters. They 
don’t knoAv nothing at all about the subject 
What do they know about the evils of a 
scolding Avife ? Wait till they haA'e had one 
for tAventy years and been hammered, and 
jammed and slammed, all the Avhile — Avait 
till they’ve been scolded because the baby 
cried, because the fire AA'ouldn’t burn, be¬ 
cause the oven Avas too hot., because the coav 
kicked OA'er the milk, because it rained, be¬ 
cause the sun shined, because the hens did 
not lay, because the butter Avouldn’t come, 
because the old cat had kittens, because 
they come too soon to dinner, because they 
Avere one minute too late, because they sung, 
because they tore their troAvsers, because 
they invited a neighbor Avoman to call again, 
because they got sick, or because they did 
anything else, no matter Avhether they could 
n’t help it or not, before they talk about the 
evils of a scolding Avife; Avhy, Mr. President, 
I’d rather hear the clatter of hammers and 
stones, and twenty tin pans, and nine brass 
kettles, than the din, din, din, of the tongue 
of a scolding AAufe. Yes, sir-ee I Avould.— 
To my mind, Mr. President, a smoky chim¬ 
ney is no more to be compared to a scolding 
Avife, than a little negro is to a dark night.” 
The Difference. — “What is the differ¬ 
ence, my lord,” said a pert subaltern, one 
day, to a certain dignified maker of jokes— 
“ Avhat is the difference between an ass and 
an archbishop ?” 
A pause ensued. 
“ Do you give it up ?” 
“ I give it up,” quoth the dignitary. 
“ Well, then,” replied young flippant, “it 
is that the ass’s cross is upon his back, while 
the archbishop’s lies upon his breast.” 
“ Good, indeed; but let me ask, in return,” 
continued hjs grace, “ Avhat is the difference 
betAveen an ass and an officer — say, in the 
army ?” 
A longer pause ensued. The subaltern 
gaA^e it up. 
“ I protest,” quoth the latter, “ I cannot 
make it out. The difference?—the differ¬ 
ence ? No, I cannot see it” 
“ Neither can I,” said the grave arch pre¬ 
late ; and, turning on his heel, left the mala¬ 
pert querist to meditate upon a distinction 
Avithout a difference. 
A Neav Strike. —“I ain’t goin to be 
called a printer’s de\'il any longer—no more 
I ain’t,” exclaimed our imp the other day, 
in a terrible pucker. 
“ Well, Avhat shall avc call you ?” 
“ Call me a typographical spirit of evil, 
if you like, that’s all.” He sloped! 
Wishes.— “ What Avould I like to have ?” 
said Mrs. Wintcrblossom. “ Why, a two- 
bushel basket full of needles, and all of them 
ere needles Avorn clean up to the eyes in 
making bags, and all them ere bags chock 
full of dimuns. You wouldn’t talk about 
(*!allyforny after that!” 
“VoNCE, & long viles ago, I vent intos 
mine abble orchard to clime a bear tree to 
get some beaches to make mine vrow a 
blum budding mit; an ven I gets to de to- 
bermost pranch, I vails from de lowermost 
limb, mit vone leg on both sides of de vence, 
an likes to sthove my outsides in.” 
The Tavo Pedlers. —A pedler overtook 
another of his tribe on the road, and thus 
accosted him: “ Hallo, friend, what do you 
carry ?” “ Rum and whiskey,” Avas the 
prompt reply. “ Good, ” said the other, 
“ you may go a-head, I carry grave stones!” 
A soldier being asked if he met with 
much hospitality in Holland, replied that he 
was in the hospital nearly all the time he 
Avas there. 
dMlUgl]. 
GEOLOGICAL PRESUMPTIONS. 
NUMBER X. 
ERROR IN THE MOON’S MOTIONS. 
There can be no impropriety, or irrever¬ 
ence, in canvassing any subject not palpa¬ 
ble to our senses, or reason. Our minds 
soar to the ethereal regions, or descend to 
the converging centre. We measure the 
heavens, and Aveigh the globes—determine 
the motions, attractions and aberrations of 
the remotest planets. We scan the laws of 
motion and attraction, and acquire the en¬ 
tire and complicated action of their forces, 
and point to a minute, a thousand years 
i hence, Avhen one of Jupiter’s satellites,shall 
eclipse another. If these inquiries are held 
' to be legitimate, may not the inquiry be 
agitated, why our satellite—the moon, which 
was created to give light by night, as the sun 
was by day,—does not perform that duty 
only one moiety of the time ? Why it was 
not made a little more dense, or different in 
bulk; so that its motions should have been 
retarded one hour or nearly, so as to have 
risen when the sun sets. What a glorious 
world would then have existed! Eternal 
light and life. Some of the planets enjoy 
this blessing, whose inhabitants are anthro¬ 
pophagi, for ought we know. 
There exists no natural or philosophical 
objection, except the action of the tides, if 
that luminary has any control, Avhich is still 
a mooted question; the result would simply 
be neap tides—uniformly the same in height 
—the ebb and Aoav at the same hour for¬ 
ever. 
Then a priori, why Avas it so constructed ? 
Was it the result of Eternal Wisdom, or of 
the accidental congregation of refuse and 
superfluous matter, unagglutenated to our 
planet, or heterogeneous particles repelled 
from the great electro-magnet, the earth, 
and noAv held in abeyance by a different 
polarity and attraction? 
It now seems only the occasional agent 
of light and exercises no action, either by 
its solid matter, or by its reflected light It 
has no sensible effect upon the minutest tis¬ 
sue of animal, or vegetable life, —the weath¬ 
er,—sickness, or health. Was it one of na¬ 
ture’s redundances, like the creation of the 
Avhole race of loathsome and pestiferous in¬ 
sects—the noxious and poisonous Aveeds— 
an example of prolific creation, attesting the 
poAver of the great First Cause ? 
It is difficult to conceive hoAV matter — 
quiescent matter, overcomes its natural vis 
inertia, by any knoAvn laws, and takes a ro- 
tai-y motion, as all the globes of our system 
undoubtedly have, unle.ss it commences at 
the fii’st atomic consolidation. Attraction 
and repulsion endures them Avith the ellip¬ 
tic motion round the sun. In their incip¬ 
ient stages, the elongated ellipse of their 
cometary existence as they acquire body and 
become condensed, are less and less eccen¬ 
tric, and approach a circle; as all planets 
are still doing, and the time Avill come, Avhen 
they Avill all revolve in that formed orbit— 
not more than three hundred thousand years 
hence—to-morroAV—a brief space in com¬ 
parison Avith the beginning and the end— 
only one day of time;—and then—yea, and 
then—the second adventists may agitate the 
propriety of preparing their ascension re¬ 
galia ! 
The creative power acts by means—by 
laAvs, nothing compulsory—nothing arbitra¬ 
ry—nothing inharmonious—CA’ery motion 
and combination the result of laAVs; many 
of Avhich are yet unknown to us. 
The earth may have existed, under a 
vastly accelerated motion from its present 
state. A motion creating a centrifugal force, 
equal to the detaching of melted fluid mat¬ 
ter, from the equatorial regions and caused 
it to revolve about the globe, like the rings 
of Saturn, and might, under some un¬ 
known circumstances, have collapsed and 
contracted into the globular form, taking its 
station according to the laAvs of motion, at¬ 
traction and gravitation, and the moon Avas 
the result 
The earth revolves from Avest to east, a 
motion that would give to matter leaving its 
surface, the same motion in its orbit that the 
moon now obeys. If the earth’s diurnal 
motion ceased, the moon would rise in the 
west and set in the east, once in fourteen 
and a half days of our present time. 
The moon may have been a cometary 
body, class, order, and genus, Encke, and 
in passing through the earth’s orbit, have 
impinged so close upon it, as to come with¬ 
in its attraction, and have been arrested in 
its course—lassoed—captured and -domes¬ 
ticated, for its OAvn use,—if any use it is, 
more than to escape the sneer of those “out¬ 
side barbarians,” Jupiter, Saturn and Her- 
schell, for not keeping a domestic, while they 
have so many. k, t. 
