MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL 
THE DOOMED MAK'S WABNING. 
Whatever may be tho\ight of Profes¬ 
sor Webster’s Confession, tliere is one pas¬ 
sage in it, which, coming as it does from a 
convict’s cell, and illustrated as it is in hu¬ 
man blood, should make a profound impres¬ 
sion on every reader’s heart. Webster 
pleads that he killed Parkman by a sudden 
blow, inflicted in a moment of high temper, 
and adds that he was an only child, much 
indulged, and had never learned to govern 
his temper, and acquire the control of his 
passions, which were naturally very quick 
and excitable. From this cause, he says, 
all his terrible difficulties have arisen. 
We presume this is the true version of 
the dreadful aflair; at any rate, the quick, 
high temper, and the shedding of human 
blood, have thousands of times stood in the 
relation of cause and effect, and probably 
did in the present instance. And what a 
lesson is here, and how much it is needed 
by many whose general character for ami¬ 
ability and goodness of heart are unques¬ 
tioned. Webster was a man of mild and 
amiable qualities. There was a degree of 
timidity about him which caused liim to 
shrink from encountering even an unfriend¬ 
ly word or look. There was a feminine soft¬ 
ness in his tastes and habits. And yet, he 
carried in his breast an inflammable princi¬ 
ple, which was like tinder to the spark, and 
which, once fired, raged with unbounded 
and inexpressible fury, and nerved his arm 
to inflict death dealing blows upon the dis¬ 
turber of his peace. 
O! that we could send the warning of 
this sad example home to the hearts and 
consciences of the thousands of quick and 
high-tempered young men who are now 
suspecting no evil from the indulgence of 
their excitability, and who consequently im¬ 
pose no check upon themselves. 
We would entreat all such persons to 
contemplate the intense, the unutterable an¬ 
guish and misery, which in Webster’s case 
have resulted from a moment’s unguarded, 
unchecked passion. See the pale, lifeless 
OCCUPATIONS, 
There is a most radical error pervading 
society at the present day in regard to plain, 
honest, hardy industry. A greater, or more 
foolish mistake, never associated itself with 
the popular prejudices, than it is the nature 
of his avocation that gives character and 
dignity to the man. For our part, we would 
be sadly puzzled to discover the distinction 
between any of the varied occupations which 
employ the industry of man, that would 
raise the operative in the one case above 
the one in the other. One occupation 
is precisely as creditable in itself, and as 
commendable to its industrious pursuer as 
another, provided it be honorable, and in 
perfect harmony with the laws of God and 
man. It is the man that ennobles the oc¬ 
cupation—not the occupation that dignifies 
the man. It is well that we are not all fit¬ 
ted by habit, 'education, and taste, for the 
same avocation. However, these natural 
divisions are by no means distinctions. It 
is this diversity of taste, together with good 
and wholesome laws and regulations, that 
harmonize this vast workshop of intricate 
industry—the world. Without this diversi¬ 
ty, all would be riot and confusion, and 
physical power alone would reap the bene¬ 
fits of labor. As it is, the weak and strong 
have each their several and appropriate al¬ 
lotments. 
The man Avho follows in the wake of the 
ploAvshare, in his striped frock, and with 
bronzed and toughened hand, plants his 
seed—the man with smutty face and leath¬ 
er apron, who, with strong and vigorous 
sinew, swings his clanging sledge from ear¬ 
ly morn till twilight eve—or the man who 
bends over the ringing lapstone the livelong 
day, is not one whit below the smooth-faced, 
keen-eyed merchant, who follows the femi¬ 
nine employment of measuring tape and 
ribbon—the eagle-eyed barrister, who ex¬ 
pounds, or rather mystifies the law, or he 
whose stately tread resounds in our halls of 
legislation. Still, there exists in community 
alow and baneful prejudice in regard to 
this matter of labor. Why, fathers now-a- 
days must keep a sharp eye on their sons, 
lest they stray from “ the learned profes¬ 
sions,” and take up the degrading occupa¬ 
tion of a mechanic, and thus entail a calam¬ 
ity upon the family which never can be 
wiped out. The daughters, too, must have 
a maternal spy upon their every glance and 
footstep, lest she be “ tipping the light o’ 
her ’ee ” upon some poor mechanic! Hor¬ 
rible ! Why, the good lady would as soon 
think of linking her daughter with a Pata- 
ironian heathen as a mechanic! 
Are not the use of the trowel, the anvil, 
the spade, and the hammer, just as lauda¬ 
ble employments wherewith to build up our 
comforts in life, as the yard-stick, the pestle 
and mortar, or the library? Equally as 
honorable and respectable, since they are 
all employed for the same purpose. Labor 
is labor, whether performed by the king or 
peasant, by priest or lajunan; it is just as 
honorable in the one as in the other, and as 
w'orthy the admiration and respect of the 
world.— Waverly Magazine. 
NATURAL HI8T0EY OF THE SABBATH. 
The Creator has given us a natural res¬ 
torative—sleep; and a moral restorative — 
Sabbath keeping; and it is ruin to dispense 
with either. Under the pressure of high 
excitement, individuals have passed weeks 
together with little sleep or none; but when 
the process is long continued, the overdriv¬ 
en powers rebel, and fever,* delirium and 
death comes on; nor can the natural amount 
be systematically curtailed, without corres¬ 
ponding mischief. The Sabbath does not 
arrive like sleep. The day of rest does not 
steal over us like the hour of slumber. It 
does not entrance us almost whether we 
will or not—but addressing us as intelligent 
beings, our Creator assures us that we need 
it, and bids us notice its return, and court 
its renovation. And if, going in the face of 
the Creator’s kindness, we force ourselves 
to work all days alike, it is not long till we 
pay the forfeit. The mental worker—the 
man of business, or the man of letters— 
finds his ideas becoming torpid and slow; 
the equpoise of his faculties is upset, grows 
moody, fitful, and with his mental elasticity 
broken should any disaster occur, he sub¬ 
sides into habitual melancholy, or in self 
destruction speeds his guilty e.xit from a 
gloomy world. And the manual worker; 
the artizan, the engineer; toiling on from 
day to day, and week to week, the bright 
intuition of his eyes gets blunted, and for¬ 
getful of their cunning his hands no longer 
perform the feats of twinkling agility, nor 
by plastic and tuneful touch, mould dead 
matter, or wild mechanic power; but ming¬ 
ling his life’s blood in his daily drudgery, 
his locks are prematurely gray, his genial 
humors sour, and slaving it till he has be¬ 
come a morose or reckless man, for an ex¬ 
tra-effort or any blink of balmy feeling he 
must stand indebted to opium or alcohol. 
WISHES 
BY H. A. BE FRANCE. 
I would I were a beam 
Which glances from the soft and silvery moon. 
And dancea o’er the broad and still lagooa 
Its gentle, modest gleam. 
I would I were a bird — 
To soar aloft with rapid, fleeting wing. 
And with sweet notes a merry tune to sing. 
As mortals never heard. 
I would I were a cloud, 
Which sweeps so stately mid the upper air. 
That I might revel mid the lightning’s glare. 
And echo thunders loud. 
An angel would I were — 
To dwell among those glorious realms of light, 
Where cherubim and hosts of seraphs bright 
Do chant His praise fore’er. 
J thrones, basking in the warm sunshine, and 
J sipping delicious sweets from cups of nectar. 
J Those were happy days of freedom from 
> care and pain — of joy gushing from the 
I crystal fountain of Innocence. And Child- 
I hood is full of such yet; strike from existence 
; the beautiful butterfly and there would be 
; an unfilled void in Creation’s harmony — 
; notwithstanding the anathemas of “N. G.” 
I asrainst the whole bird and insect tribes. 
t O 
( Where is the man, who, when a child, 
^ lived in the God-made country, that does 
I not call up with pleasurable emotions, the 
' memory of his many tumble-down chases 
I had in pursuit of the darlings. How often 
{ in his impetuosity did he run full tilt against 
I some sturdy stump, or, unluckily tripping a 
^ toe, plunge headlong—maybe into a clump 
\ of thistles. To be sure, such accidents were 
^ not pleasurable to the feelings, nor was it 
I consoling to see the object of his desire sail- 
ing gracefully awaj' as if conscious of its 
') easy escape from hands that would have 
S clutched its fragile form, yet this ruffle of 
i the temper would quickly pass, succeeded 
perhaps by a hearty laugh at the ludicrous- 
) ness of his situation. 
I But this propensity of chasing butterflies 
'* is not alone confined to our youthful days. 
/ It pervades every station of society, and is 
; found in all regions and climes. It sticks 
( to men through life and adds a proof to the 
) saying that men are but children of a lar- 
( ger growth. 
' When we have grown too groat in stature 
to be seen snubbing against thistles, knock- 
( ing about among briers or stumbling over 
/ stones, in pursuit of the real living things 
< we rush blindly after phantom ones. Fashion, 
( Wealth and Fame, and a thousand others, 
seduce us on, while we pursue with all the 
ardor we may possess. Fashion is exceed¬ 
ingly fickle, whilst Wealth and Fame are far 
more vigorous and tantalizing in their flight. 
; Though always sure of securing our fibnei- 
I ed prize, seldom or never is it caught. Of- 
^ ten we think it within our grasp, we snatch 
/ at it, a foot slips, and lo we are prostrate.— 
^ Disappointment damps not our ardor, but 
^ acts like oil to the fire. Up we are, again 
I pursuing ■— again we believe it witliin our 
!: reach, and again by some untoward acci- 
^ dent our grasp is eluded. 
> How needful, then, we should learn con- 
\ tentment from every circumstance that 
I governs our life, and tends so strongly to 
( make it a “chequered scene.” t. e. w. 
WRONG ACnONS. 
Remorse does but add to the evil which 
bred it, when it promotes, not penitence but 
despair. To have erred in one branch of 
our duties does not unfit us for the perfor¬ 
mance of all the rest, unless we suffer the 
dark spot to spread over our whole* nature, 
which may happen almost unobserved in 
the torpor of despair. 'This kind of despair 
is chie% grounded on a foolish belief that 
individual words make or constitute the 
whole life of man, whereas they are often 
not fair representatives of portions even of 
that life. The fragments of rock in a moun¬ 
tain stream may tell much of its history, are, 
in fact, results of its doings, but they are 
not the stream. They were brought down 
when it was turbid; it may now be clear; 
they are as much the result of other circum¬ 
stances as of the action of the stream; their 
j history is fitful; they give us no sure intel¬ 
ligence of the future course of the stream, 
or of the nature of its waters; and may 
scarcely show more than that it has not been 
always as it is. The actions of men are but 
little better indications of the men them¬ 
selves. 
THE ART OF THINKING. | 
One of the best modes of improving in 
the art of thinking is to think over some 
subject before you read upon it; and then 
to observe after what manner it has occilr- 
red to the mind of some great master; you 
will then observe whether you have been 
too rash or too timid; what you have omit¬ 
ted, and in what you have exceeded; and 
by this process you will insensibly catch a 
great manner of viewing a question. It is 
right in stud)', not only to think whenever 
any extraordinary incident provokes you 
to think, but from time to time review 
what has passed: to dwell upon it, and to 
see what trains of thought voluntarily pre¬ 
sent themselves to the mind. It is a most 
superior habit of some minds, to refer all 
the particular truths which strike them, to 
other truths more general; so that their 
knowledge is beautifully methodized; and 
the general truth at any time suggests all 
the particular exemplifications, or any par- 
IIVING WITHIN THEIR MEANS. 
What an Influence. —There are at 
least three millions of mothers in the United 
States. These mothers, aside from older 
children, have, it is supposed, between two 
and three thousand infants in their charge. 
No influence, at present, can reach these in¬ 
fant minds but that of a mother. These 
minds may be moulded at the will or dis¬ 
cretion of these mothers. If this army of 
mothers should combine to accomplish any 
given object, what might they not do? if 
every mother should imitate the example of 
Hannah of old, and consecrate her infant 
to the Lord, what could withstand such a 
moral influence ? And yet from these in¬ 
fants are to come our rulers, our judges, 
our ministers, and all the influence, either 
for good or evil, which is to sway the desti¬ 
nies of the nation! — Mother's Magazine. 
Is it not remarkable, that China, with a 
well defined nationality of 4,000 years, and 
a population for 2,000 years denser accord¬ 
ing to its area, than that of France or 
Britain, has never had cause to complain of 
the misery or distress of her people ? Vir¬ 
tually, she hus no paupers—no poor. Her 
infirm or unfortunate have been generally 
mass- 
provided for by the State; while her 
es have been, and are, the happiest and 
most independent people on earth. The 
reason of this lies in the habits of industry 
and love of peace of the Chinese. They 
till the earth in every available spot; they 
drain marshes and earth over waste places; 
they turn all the riches of the earth to the 
most practical account; and, living peace¬ 
fully and simply, they. have comfort and 
plenty. No people on earth live so com¬ 
pletely within their own means. They have 
never sought the trade of any country; nev¬ 
er have interferred with any other country; 
but, minding their own business, have growm 
rich and been wise, w'hen more boasting na¬ 
tions were steeped in poverty and ignorance. 
Surely, the nations and people of Europe 
and the Western hemisphere, have yet to 
learn the art of true living and well gov¬ 
erning, of the very people to whom they 
are sending missionaries. 
Ghizeh. An ancient raonarcliy has crum¬ 
bled into ruins,|repeated conquests have pla¬ 
ced over her many foreign masters, civil 
wars have thinned her population, few of 
her ancient stock are left. In the circum¬ 
stances that must have attended national 
calamities like these, it had not been strange 
had almost every architectural or pictorial 
vestige of the past been lost to the world 
forever. Is it superstitious to suppose that 
there may have been a providence in their 
preservation ? 
Is it a presumptuous interpetation of the 
purpose of God in his providence, to ob¬ 
serve that an inquiring, searching spirit, de¬ 
manding the proof of everything, predomi¬ 
nates in the minds of men at the present 
day: and from thence to infer the import¬ 
ance of this opening of a new and hitherto 
unexplored field of inquiry and the value 
of a powerful array of unanswerable evi¬ 
dence in favor of the Scriptures, which 
doubtless will be obtained from it ? May 
it not be, that the real and true “ philoso¬ 
phy of this age will be the instrument in 
God’s hands wherewith he will oppose its 
infidelity ? ” 
Be Happy. —A little child seven years ^ 
old one day said to her mother, “ Mother, I 
have learned to be happy, and I shall al- ) 
ways be happy.” “My dear,” said her ^ 
mother, “ how can this be done ?” She I 
said, “ It is by not caring anything about ^ 
myself, but trying to make everybody else ) 
happy.” s 
Religious controversy sharpens the un- S 
derstanding by the gubtlety and remoteness ; 
of the topics it discusses, and braces the s 
will by their infinite importance, ’ 
Habitual reflection on the uncertaint;^ of 
time, tends greatly to fortify the mind > 
against the snares, both of prosperity and i 
adversity. ) 
He who dies in the path of duty deserve > 
a nobler name than he who leads a victori- s 
ous army over the ruins of a conquered ^ 
kingdom. < 
That man”alone serves well his Maker > 
who dares stand firm for the right, unsha- j 
ken by popular favor. < 
The wounded patridgehideth in a furrow ^ 
—and a stricken conscience would be left j 
alone. I 
He who giveth hU thoughts to charity \ 
carries the key of Heaven. ^ | 
THE SWORD AND THE PEN. 
The sword of the warrior was taken down 
to brighten; it had not been long out of 
use. The rust was rubbed oflj but there 
were spots that would not go; they were of 
blood. It was on the table near the pen 
of the secretary. The pen took advantage 
of the first breath of air to move a little 
further off. • 
“ Thou art right,” said the sword, “ I am* 
a bad neighbor.” 
“I fear thee not,” replied the pen, “lam 
more powerful than thou art; but I do not 
love thy society.” 
“ I exterminate,” said the sword. 
“ And I perpetuate,” answered the pen; 
“ where are thy victories if I recorded them 
not? Even where thou thyself shalt one 
day be, in the Lake of Oblivion.” 
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, 
The pen is mightier than the sword.” 
The ages of Men. —It is Longfellow 
who thus beautifully illustrates the three 
ages of man:—In ancient times there stood 
in the citadel of Athens, three statutes of 
Minerva. The first was of olive Avood, and, 
according to popular tradition, had fallen 
from Heaven. The second was of bronze, 
commemorating the victory of Marathon; 
and the third of gold and ivory — a great 
miracle of art, in the age of Pericles—and 
thus in the citadel of Time stands Man him¬ 
self. In childhood, shaped of soft and deli¬ 
cate wood just fallen from Heaven, in man¬ 
hood, a statue of bronze, commemorating 
struggle and victory; and lastly, in the ma¬ 
turity of age, perfectly shaped in gold and 
ivory,—a miracle of art 
Praise. —Every gratification a man pre¬ 
pares for his neighbor depends someAvhat for 
its good reception on the state of mind of 
the recipient On the other hand, every 
man’s ear and stomach are always in the 
right trim to swallow a good dish of praise. 
—Jean Paul Richter. 
Heaven’s Bank. —Carlyle says there are 
many millionaires whose note of hand will 
go to any length in the streets of London, 
and to whom in Heaven’s Bank, the stem 
answer is, “No Effects.” 
When to Buy. —The time to buy a thing 
is when you really need it, cannot weU do 
without it can buy to good advantage, make 
it profitable, and have the money to spare 
to pay for it 
Truk quietness of heart is obtained by 
resisting our passions, not by obeymg them. 
