MOOEE’S EUEAL NEW-YOEKEE: AN AGEICULTUEAL AND FAMILY JOUENAL, 
A aiAUSOLETJM TO THE PEESIDENTS. 
The following is from the address of the 
Rev. Dr. Pyne, delivered at the funeral of 
President Taylor. The suggestion is not 
only a practicable one, but must commend 
itself to every American heart as eminently 
appropriate to the character of our people 
and institutions:— 
“ There is a monument even now in pro¬ 
gress to the memory of the first President 
of this country, but how utterly inadequate 
must that or any other monument be, as 
an expression of the veneration of this 
country or the world itself. I can imagine 
a monument more worthy of the country 
and of him; one that would preach a great 
lesson to generations yet to come. Let the 
spot where the great Father of his country 
reposes, become National soil. Let there 
arise on the bank of his own river, beneath 
the shade of his own trees, a great mauso¬ 
leum—there, around his mortal remains, let 
the bodies of all be gathered who have ev¬ 
er been chosen or shall ever be chosen by 
the American people to bear that office 
which Washington dignified and adorned. 
I believe that such a monument might do 
much to secure the best succession in the 
world, the succession of virtues and patriot¬ 
ism like his own. I am very sure that it 
would be visited like a shrine; that many 
a heart would beat with nobler pulse when 
looking on that assembly of the mighty 
dead. And, if the time must come when the 
fate of the great nations that have gone, 
shall be ours—when strangers of some new¬ 
er race and name shall come hither to vis¬ 
it the relics of a people once mighty and 
free—the very memory of other places, oth¬ 
er names may have vanished, but that will 
remain, and the world will never cease to 
bear record that that must indeed have 
been a great nation which had such honor¬ 
able sons, and so honored them.” 
For tlie Rural New-Yorker. 
THOUGHTS ON PRE.TUDICE. • 
Prejudice, definition and derivation 
aside, amounts to about the same thing as 
previous judgment, or the decision of a case 
on partial or interested testimony, which 
prevents one from properly acting as a ju¬ 
ror—and in all matters of fact or opinion, 
hinders the ready and direct arrival at the 
ti’uth in question. One who has made up 
his mind, or formed his opinion how a thing 
is, or should be, without full and careful ob¬ 
servation, is not only liable to labor under 
mistaken views, but those views are narrow¬ 
ed dow'n—contracted, and confined to the 
one point of that first partial observation.— 
He may not look upon it differently, while 
prejudice tells him he sees it rightly—he 
can come no nearer, he can rise no higher, 
he can seek 
iBENEVOLENCE AND SELFISHNESS. 
We naturally love our own well-being; 
and this principle, the prime and ruling im¬ 
pulse of our nature, is termed self-love. — 
Self-love deserves no more praise or blame 
than do the appetites of hunger and thirst. 
In its excess and perversion, when confined 
to personal gratification, it is denominated 
selfishness, and incurs censure. In its dif¬ 
fusive sympathies to mankind, it has the 
appellation of benevolence, and is entitled 
to commendation. 
When we contemplate the character of 
the Supreme Being, as it is discovered in 
natural and revealed religion, we plainly 
see that he wills the harmonious union of 
the great family of man. No system, there¬ 
fore, of theology, morality, or polity, can be 
pure and efficient which is not in subservi¬ 
ency to humanity and benevolence, to social 
order and happiness. 
A beautiful landscape is presented to 
two individuals. One of them, who has no 
relish for such an’ exhibition, looks on it 
with indifference; the other, whose taste is 
cultivated, gazes on it with delight. Simi¬ 
lar is it with selfishness and benevolence.— 
The selfish regard noble and generous 
deeds, in which they have no interest, with 
. apathy; the benevolent hail them with con¬ 
genial mind, and experience a reflected 
I pleasure in their sympathetic feelings. 
The call to benevolence on religious princi¬ 
ples, is clear and conclusive. All who are 
religious, love their Creator and Preserver; 
those who love him obey his commands, and 
■ his express command is to love one another, 
and to do good to all men. 
A selfish man, like an opaque mineral, 
absorbs every good in himself. A benevo- 
no farther acquaintance, but 
ever, from the loop-hole, where it first loom¬ 
ed upon his sight, must see the same object 
in the light in which he then decided to 
view it 
It is in this way that prejudice is the 
sworn foe of progress. It makes no allow¬ 
ance for farther developments—it denies 
the necessity or validity of farther experi- 
•ence. It cast Gallileo in prison for dar¬ 
ing to overstep its dictum—\t forced Co¬ 
lumbus on a weary pilgrimage from court 
to court, with the splendid offer of a new, 
but undiscovered world.’ It heaped obloquy 
upon Harvey, because he dared to say that 
medical physiology was an imperfect science 
by his theory of the circulation of the blood. 
It has attempted, more or less successfully, 
to bar the progress of every new discovery 
—in morals, in science or the arts—since 
the world began its onward march—since 
the dogma has had a believer that there was 
yet something to be learned. 
The prejudiced man has but a narrow 
intellectual range, and that range, unless 
broken in upon, contracts daily upon him, 
like the iron walls of the inquisitorial dun¬ 
geon—crushing out every spark of manli¬ 
ness of character—every thought and hope 
of the better—and every aspiration for pro¬ 
gress or advancement There can be, he 
verily believes, no better plow than the fork¬ 
ed stick, drawn by ropes fastened to the 
horns of his oxen—no better mill than the 
twirling stones which his women shall feed 
with one hand and push with the other, 
and no better science or higher literature 
than his Shaster, or Koran, or the volumin¬ 
ous tomes of Confucius, can teach him.— 
These are some, of the depths to which 
prejudice drags men down, but in this en¬ 
lightened age and country, we must look at 
its higher forms—at the heights to which 
it elevates some of the favored classes of 
community. 
A standard of merit—of w'orth, and pop¬ 
ular estimation—^^has been set at success in 
acquiring property, and prejudice can see 
small good in any project, which is not im- 
[From a Daguerreotype.] 
BIOGRAPHICAL SBSTCH OF THE LATE PRESIDENT. 
I 5 order that oar readers may possess a correct 
likeness and biography of the late Presideftt, in a 
convenient form for preservation and future refer¬ 
ence, we present the above portrait of Gen. Tay- 
1 . 0 K, together with the annexed sketch of his life. 
The portrait, wbieh wo transfer from Harpers’ 
Magazine for August, is pronounced strikingly 
life-like and accurate — as indeed it must be, hav¬ 
ing been engraved from a daguerreotype. The 
following brief biography is from the Tribune : 
Zachary Taylor, the son of a father honora¬ 
bly distinguished in the Revolutionary war, was 
born in Orange County, Virginia, Nov. 2, 1784. 
Till the age of twenty-one he worked on the farm 
of his father, but early developed a taste for milita¬ 
ry life. He was appointed 1st Lieutenant in the 
Seventh Infantry on May 3, 1808. In 1810 he 
married Miss Margaret Smith, of Maryland. In 
1812 he served as Captain under Gen. Harrison 
in the Indian war of the North-west, where in 
September he gained great credit for bravery and 
coolness in defending Fort Harrison against the 
savages, and received the rank of Brevet-Major in 
consequence. In the course of the war he further 
distinguished himself. When it ended, being re¬ 
duced to the rank of Captain on account of the 
general reduction of the army, he resigned and 
j went back to his farq;i. He wa^ reinstated as 
Major in 1816, and commanded for two years at 
Green Bay on Lake Michigan, 
j Afterward he served mostly in the South, being 
Resaca de la Palma the next day. Matmnoras was 
taken May 18; on the 30th he w'as made Major 
General by brevet, and on June 29 was promoted 
to full rank. The attack oh Monterey began 
Sept. 21, and was closed by the capitulation on the 
24th. His great and final battle of Buena Vista 
was fought on Feb. 22, 1847. In all these affairs 
he manifested great soundness of judgment, read¬ 
iness of mind, fertility of resources, mastery of the 
art of war, power of inspiring his subordinates not 
only with affection for his person, but with confi¬ 
dence in his skill and fortunes, as well as constant 
humanity towards the vanquished, and a frank 
dignity which won the regard of the hostile peo¬ 
ple among whom he was to command an invading 
anny, somewhat incongruous in, its elements and 
difficult to bo controlled. 
In November, 1847, Gen. Taylor returned to 
the United States. He was received with the con¬ 
gratulations and rejoicings of the people wherever 
he appeared. The year before he had been nomi¬ 
nated for the Presidency. In June, 1848, he re¬ 
ceived the nomination of the Whig Convention 
at Philadelphia, and in November was elected, re¬ 
ceiving 163 electoral votes to 127 for Gen. Cass. 
He was inaugurated on March 5,1849, and at his 
death had discharged the duties of President one 
year, four months and four days. Had ho lived 
to the 24th of next November he w’ould have been 
sixty-six years old. 
In person, Gen. Taylor was about five feet eight 
inches high, with a slight tendency to corpulency. 
His complexion was dark, his forehead high, his 
features plain, but full of courage, intelligence, be¬ 
nevolence and good humor. 
POST OFFICE CURIOSITIES, 
It appears that there have been trans¬ 
mitted as ‘‘packets”—from Blackburn in 
Lancashire to Spitafields, London, two ca¬ 
nary birds, delivered by the postman alive 
and well. From Devonport to London, a 
pork pie. To London, a woodcock, also a 
pair of piebald mice, which were kept in 
the post office a month, fed and at last de¬ 
livered to the owner, who called for them. 
From Manchester to Castle street, two rab¬ 
bits and one bird—15 parcels of plumb 
pudding. From Bongnor to Plymouth, a 
lobster. In one day 31 letters containing 
wedding cake. On more than one occa¬ 
sion, without any envelope, a bank note 
(one was for no less than £50,) the two 
ends being merely folded upon each other, 
watered, and the back of the note then di¬ 
rected! Innumerable leeches in bladders, 
several of which having burst, many of the 
poor creatures were found crawling over 
the correspondence of,the country. 
From Plymouth to Ilunmanby, a bottle 
of cream. From a mother to her son, a 
bottle of strawberries, which, being smash¬ 
ed in the bag, completely destroyed a “pack¬ 
et” full of very valuable lace, addressed to 
her late Majesty the Queen of Dow.ager.— 
A ship biscuit, the address being on a very 
small piece of paper pasted thereon. From 
Totness to Dublin, an uncovered bottle full 
of liquor, merely labelled with an address, 
and the words “sample of cyder.” From 
Exmouth to Hastings, half a pound of soft 
soap in a thin paper. From Bishop’s Stort- 
FATHER AND MOTHER. 
Father, is a word with me wondrously 
influential, nor can I think of it, without 
mingled reverence and filial affection. “As 
a father pitieth his children,” says David, 
and we feel the pity he describes. “ Hear, 
ye children the instruction of a father,” says 
Solomon—and we acknowledge the author¬ 
ity with reverence. “I will rise and go un¬ 
to my father,” said a poor prodigal—and 
his words thrill through the heart. “My 
father! my father! the chariots of Israel, and 
the horsemen thereof,” cried Elisha, when 
Elijah went up by the whirlwind into Hea¬ 
ven ; and the exclamation arrests our very 
souls. Few who have felt the kindly, cor¬ 
recting, and fostering influence of a father, 
but must feel, at the name, sornewhat in 
I the way that I have described. And yet 
[ the greatest utility of a father, lies in what 
jyou may call “the preventive service”— 
I not letting the son have his own way, nor 
: his own will 
' Mother, is a word to which every bosom 
responds. It finds its way to our hearts in 
our youth, and retiuns its hold upon us in 
our age. If fathers are looked up to for 
precept, principle, and example, mothers are 
relied on for tenderness and enduring af¬ 
fection. Fathers are strongholds of safety; 
mothers are sources of love and consolation. 
The word, mother, is a soft, balmy breeze 
coming up from the valley, sweet, soothing 
and grateful; cooling the fevered brow, 
calming the ruffled spirit, and tranquilizing 
the agitated heart What voice was ever 
Hi»dress was always 
simple, and his manners made all who approached 
him perfectly at home. 
Mrs. Taylor, the wife of his youth, .still lives; 
though, from taste, she hM not appeared in gener¬ 
al society since her husband's elevation to the 
Presidency. They have had four children, one 
son and three daughters; one of the latter married 
Dr. Wood of the Army, who was in atten¬ 
dance on the President during his last illness; an¬ 
other (now .also deceased) married Senator Davis 
of Miss.; and the third is Mrs. Bliss, who has 
done the honors of the Presidential Mansion. The 
son is still a 3 'oung man. 
In this hour of universal sorrow at this great 
ANECDOTE OF GENERAL TAYLOR. | 
The extrttordinary modesty of General 
Taylor, and the fact that, tifter all, his mind 
did not take pleasure in the recollection of 
the scenes of war, led him to be rather re¬ 
luctant to talk much about his battles, but 
it happened to be my privilege, accqmpanied 
only by one of his military friends, to hear 
from his own lips a minute and graphic 
account of his experiences throughout the 
entire period of the battle of Buena Vista. 
He told me that during the whole of the 
second day he fully e.xpected to die; that 
he bore, each moment, the thought that it 
might be his last—that on no other similar 
occasion of his life, did he carry with him 
such a feeling. 
He showed me where his clothes were 
perforated by balls. The outside edge of 
his coat sleeve, just below the shoulder of 
his right arm, was cut away, as also the 
linen imd the flannel, under garments, and 
the skin was blackened and burnt, but not 
torn, and two bullets perforated each several 
times the folds of his coat, as it flapped 
loose at his right side, within an inch of his 
i person, and about three inches apart, one 
above the other. These statements he 
made in connection xvith an answer in the 
negative to my inquiry whether ho had 
ever been wounded. I then told him that. 
believing in a particular Providence, I had 
sometimes thought that his life had been 
thus remarkably preserved for some great 
purpose of usefulness to his country. 
With the most striking and delightful 
meekness of manner, the color coming to 
his cheek, and his eye moistening as he 
spoke, he said that the preservation of lus 
life had indeed been wonderful, and then 
w'ent on to express a hope that his country¬ 
men would do him the justice to believe 
that it Wiis farthest possible from his own 
wishes or thoughts ever to have been 
brought forward for the Presidency; that all 
he could say was, that he should do his 
utmost to fulfil the obligations of the office 
into which the course of events had brought 
him. He humbly hoped, he said, that he 
might be of service to his country, and that 
my sentnii‘'nt might be justified by the result 
DIVINE WORSHIP. 
There is a softening influence, a kind of 
soothing of our natures, in the flowing 
words of grace, coming from the sacred 
desk, and in the full and mellow tones of 
the organ, that for the time being at least, 
makes us feel better, happier, and more at 
peace with the world, and with our fellow 
men. We forget the cares and strifes of 
every day life, and the mind takes a sort of 
holy siesta—a. spiritual repose, benefitting 
the inward and the outer man. A holy- 
contemplation comes over us, as it were, 
like pleasant dreams, carrying us back to 
the days of our childhood, making us re- 
^ member the early lessons of pious parents, 
our catech.ism, the church-song bell of the 
old meeting-house, and the green fields and 
hills of juvenile sport 
A SWARM OF BEES WORTH HIVING. 
THE LABORER. 
The laborer, the laborer, 
God’s nobieman is he— 
Ilia works are graven in the soil, 
They float on every sea ; 
The keystone in the social arch, 
Utility his crest j 
Hia days are spout in manly toil. 
His nights yield balmy rest. 
B PATIENT, B prayerful, is humble, B mild, 
B wise as a solon, B meek as a child ; 
B studious, B thoughtful, B loving, B kind ; 
B sure you make in itier sultservieni to mind. 
B cautious, B prudent, B trustful, B true, 
B courteous to all men, B friendly witli few. 
B temiieraie in argument, pleasure and wine, 
B careful of condu.-t, of money, of lime. 
B clieerful, li grateful, B hopeful, B firm, 
B [le.tccful, benevolent, willing to learn; 
B courageous, B gentle, B liberal, B just, 
U aspiring, B humble, liecause thou art dust; 
B penitent, circumspect, sound in the faith,— 
E'.aciive, deveted ; t’.iitlifnl till death. 
B dependent, B CbtLt-like, and you’ll B secure! 
That man alone serves well his Maker 
who dares stand firm for the right, unsha¬ 
ken by popular favor. 
