Eistrilann. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
For the Eural New-Yorker. 
“WHAT’S IN A WORD?” 
Life is not without its cares and sorrows; 
nor is man .capable of always being happy 
while exposed to the contingencies of an 
existence here on earth. The beautiful 
dreams of Life’s young days fade in the 
clouds of adversity; and when the sterner 
events of manhood come crowding on the 
heart in clamorous precipitancy — when the 
unwelcome trials of a buffeting world de¬ 
mand the fortitude that bears, through the 
assistance of “ Christian Hope,” all earthly 
suffering — then, how deeply is felt the 
quiet sancity of a gentle word. A word— 
breathing in' the lonely heart a peaceful 
comfort—stirring its slumbering sympathies 
to action again, and limning on the wings 
of time the hues of new-born hopes. 
It is a general truth that mankind are 
greatly dependant upon each other for hap¬ 
piness ; and, were it not for this, generous 
sympathies could not be cultivated, nor en¬ 
nobling pjissions fitted to raise the thoughts 
of man above the wrecks of hope and the 
ruins of decaying life. Who has not felt 
the soothing power of a friendly word ? — 
Who has not thus felt the laboring cares 
and heavy trials of life, made easy through 
the ministry of a word kindly spoken ? In¬ 
deed, it brings to the flagging spirit another 
vision of triumph over the sordid realities 
of mortal existence? and in the mirror of 
Hope man learns to recognize the image of 
his sought-for pleasure. 
There is tenderness in a smile — beauty 
in a sympathetic tone — and pity in the 
glance beaming from a generous soul; but 
if a word be mingled with the whole, what 
an untold, inexpressible heaven of ecstacy 
it creates in the dejected heart! But if 
else, how is it ? Nature may wear her 
most alluring charms — flowers of every 
beauty may bloom and send out fragrance 
everywhere — streams with gushing music 
may flow in the summer’s sun, and caroling 
birds may breathe spontaneous melody from 
the sunny woodland boughs; but if the 
heart dreams not that it is loved by kindred 
heart, then, all that is bright and beautiful, 
is lost in the overshadowing clouds of des¬ 
pondency. We only live to know ourselves 
as we love others, and thus the link were 
firm, to hold all mankind in universal love. 
Each would learn the virtues of himself, 
living and dwelling within him, through 
which God deigns to send the ministrations 
of his spirit that man may know life’s pu¬ 
rest happiness. The spirit of gentleness is 
the true virtue of a pure soul The hap¬ 
py mother breathes it in her song, as over 
her smiling infant she bends in love’s inno¬ 
cent idolatry; for she looks with a tender 
eye upon it, and thanks her God for the 
precious gift The child catches the spirit 
of its mother — learns her smiles, and im¬ 
bibes the sacred harmony of her sweet 
song, till it feels through instinctive thought 
that it is loved. So, through every rank of 
human kind—if kindly acts be the common 
ties of life—might each view in his broth¬ 
er’s countenence the likeness of himself, 
and thus a mutual joy were found 
through the expressive medium of hearts 
attuned to love. Then, words could not be 
else than tenderly spoken; for Heaven, 
mingles with them all that is sweetly pleas¬ 
ant. Could this be so, unlimited — what 
a Paradise were this earth — fit sanctuary 
for Heaven’s devoted worshipers! Life 
were still sweeter, and dreams would be 
\)\\\, realvmo7is of happiness; — time were 
robbed of his stormy wings, and destiny 
were a thing radiated by the golden sun of 
Love. Yet as life is, and as man’s passions 
too often rule him, he loses sight of what 
he OUGHT to know, and thus brings on him¬ 
self regrets and sorrow& These last are 
proofs that he has virtues, and he feels 
through hopes that he is yet worthy of the 
sympathies of his fellow erring man; so, as 
ho seeks reform of self, and turns to find 
encouragement from those who love the 
cause of virtue, he then realizes the bless¬ 
ing of an Affectionate Word. 
W. H. Bhistou 
Roijalton, N. V., Sept., 1850. 
The Hypocrite. —He is the blot of gooil- 
ncss, a rotten stick in a dark night, the pop¬ 
py in a cornfield, an ill-tempered candle 
with a great snutf that in going out smells 
iU; an angel abroad, a devil at home, and 
worse when an angel than when a, devil.— 
Bishop Hall. 
POLITENESS. 
There is no quality more essential to 
complete success in life than true politeness. 
Many a man, not born the favorite of for¬ 
tune, cot gifted with talent, nor possessed 
of personal beauty, has risen to rank, fame 
and wealth, simply by the goodness of his 
manners. It is an erroneous idea to sup¬ 
pose that politeness can be acquired in the 
schools, that good-breeding can be taught 
by the dancing master, like the Polka and 
the Scottish. A man may take off his hat 
to a lady in a most unquestionable manner, 
make a bow like Vestris, and hand a lady 
to her seat with perfect grace, and still bo 
destitute of true politeness. Yet a sort of 
false breeding often passes current in soci¬ 
ety for the true coin. The Oxford scholar 
who, on seeing a fellow-collegian drowning, 
regretted that he had not been introduced 
to him, that he might take the liberty of 
saving him, was a type of this class. True 
politeness cannot be acquired, it is innate, 
identical with goodness of heart The per¬ 
son who has a heart that feels for the wants, 
the tastes and the sentiments of another, 
can never be guilty of a piece of ill-breed¬ 
ing. Many a savage who folds his blanket 
round his painted breast, is more truly po¬ 
lite than the perfumed courtier who treads 
the carpets of the Tuilleries or St James. 
It is not in the drawing-room or the ball¬ 
room that a man’s politeness is to be tested, 
but in his everyday associations, and out¬ 
door intercourse with his fellow-men. Ob¬ 
serve him at a public table, if you would 
have a taste of his true quality. See 
whether he monopolizes the best dishes, 
heaps his own plate without regard to the 
wants of his neighbors; bullies the wait¬ 
ers, and disturbs digestion by his violence. 
Note whether he elbows and pushes people 
in the streets, swaggers in the concert- 
room, b’hoys it in the lobbies of the thea¬ 
tres. Track him on board steamboats, and 
chase him through hotels, if you would 
know him. In the case of the gentler sex. 
See whether they crowd old gentlemen out 
of eligible seats, and assume airs, and assert 
their preference boldly in public places, be¬ 
fore you can decide whether or not they 
are real ladies. 
The conduct of the French people on 
public occasions is worthy of particular note 
and imitation. If a gentleman is compell¬ 
ed to leave his seat at the opera, for a few 
moments, a glove or a handkerchief left in 
his place, is sufficient to secure it for him 
until his return. It was so under the old 
regime, so under the empire, so under the 
restoration, the same under Louis Philippe 
and Louis Napoleon. The crowd assem¬ 
bled at the door of the grand opera, never 
exhibits any act of rudeness or violence.— 
On the contrary, they form a queue, as our 
folks do at the post-office window. The 
first comers take their stand, and are safe 
from molestation, the others file up in order, 
and so on; and when the doors are opened, 
then the column moves, into the house in 
as orderly a manner as a detachment of 
regulars marching in open order. You 
might wear a full ball dress on the Place 
de la Concord during the celebration of a 
national festival, and never have the integ¬ 
rity of your garments invaded. 
We are not fanatical as it regards the 
principles of true politeness, nor do we look 
forward, like some, to the propagation of 
any extreme policy or custom in the prem¬ 
ises ; we do not forsee the period when the 
world will be refined to the acme of polite¬ 
ness, nor do we, to tell the truth, desire to 
see the period when the sea captain shall 
say to the foremost hand, ‘ Sir, will you 
have the goodness to ascend to the foretop ?’ 
or, when the latter will reply, ‘with the 
greatest pleasure imaginable.’ This is not 
the true spirit of politeness; discipline can 
never jar with its principles. Your fanati¬ 
cal ultraist who cannot permit a black man 
to be addressed except as my colored broth¬ 
er, would cheat a neighbor of their own 
complexion, out of a peck of potatoes or a 
thousand dollars. It is true politeness to 
respect the feelings of every one, but it is 
none the less requisite to treat thetn with 
the consideration attendant upon their sta¬ 
tion. A good servant wdio knows his place 
will thank no oile who endeavors to break 
down the necessary and proper relation ex¬ 
isting betweep himself and his master. 
Perhaps real and actual politeness may 
be best defined as the active principles of 
goodness and kindness of heart 
Measure for Measure. —A German 
had made a fortune in Philadelphia, by 
selling milk He started home with two 
bag’s of sovereigns. On shipboard he count¬ 
ed one bag of his treasure. A mischiev¬ 
ous monkey was watching his operations. 
As soon as it was replaced and tied up, 
and the other bag emptied, Jacko snatched 
up the full one, and was soon at the mast¬ 
head. He opened the German’s bag, and 
after eyeing the pretty gold pieces, he pro¬ 
ceeded to drop one piece upon the deck 
and another into the water, until he had 
emptied the bag. When he had finished, 
the German threw up liis hands exclaim¬ 
ing, “ he must be the dyvel, for what came 
from the vater he does give to the vater, 
and what came from the milk he gives to 
me.” 
SIDNEY SMITH ON PROGRESS. 
It is of some importance at what period 
a man is born. A young man, alive at this 
period, hardly knows to what improvements 
of human life he has been introduced; and 
I bring before his notice the following eigh¬ 
teen changes, which have taken place in 
England since I began to breathe the breath 
of life—a period amounting now to nearly 
seventy years. G<i8 was unknown; I grop¬ 
ed my way about the streets of London, in 
all but the utter darkness of a twinkling oil 
lamp, under the protection of watchmen, in 
their climatcric, and exposed to every spe¬ 
cies of insult. I have been nine hours in 
sailing from Dover to Calais, before the in¬ 
vention of steam. It took me nine horn’s 
to go from Taunton to London! In going 
from Tauntomto Bath, 1 suffered between 
10 and 12,000 severe contusions, before 
stone-breaking Macadam was born. I paid 
£15 in a single year for repairs of carriage 
springs on the pavement of London; and 
now I glide, without noise or fracture, on 
w'ooden pavements. I can walk, by the as¬ 
sistance of the police, from one end of Lon¬ 
don to the other, without molestation; or if 
tired, get into a cheap cab, instead of those 
cottages on wheels, which the hackney 
coaches were at the beginning of my life. 
I had no umbrella. They were little us¬ 
ed and very dear. There were no water¬ 
proof hats, arid my hat has often been re¬ 
duced by rains, to its primitive pulp. I 
could not keep my small clothes in their 
proper places, for braces were unknown. If 
I had the gout there was no colchium. If 
I Avas bilious, there was no calomel. If I 
was attacked by ague, there was no qui¬ 
nine. There were filthy coffee-houses in¬ 
stead of elegant clubs. Game could not 
be bought. Quarrels about uncomrauted 
tithes -iv’ere endless. The corruption of 
Parliament before reform, infamous. There 
were no banks to receive the savings of the 
poor. The poor laws were gradually sap¬ 
ping the vitals of the country. Whatever 
miseries I suffered, I had no post, to whist 
my complaints, for a single penny, to the 
remotest corners of the empire. And yet, 
in spite of all these privations, I lived on 
quietly, and am now ashamed that I was 
not discontented, and utterly surprised that 
all these changes and inventions did not oc¬ 
cur two centuries ago. I forgot to add, that 
as the basket of the stage coaches, in which 
luggage was tlien carried, had no springs, 
your clothes were rubhed to pieces, and 
that even in the best society, one-third of 
the genteel at least, were always drunk 
HOME —MUTUAL AEEECTION, 
It is not the imposing majesty of our 
sumptuous mansion, not the hollow glare of 
gaudy furniture, not the obsequious attention 
of servants, nor even of children, that makes 
a home of liome, and keeps alive the sacred 
blessedness of a married life. No, but it is 
the steady exercise of those holy character¬ 
istics that sooth the sorrows and smooth the 
asperities of our nature. 
Those little evidences of sincere esteem, 
those spontaneous expressions of affection j 
and tenderness, those unpremeditated smiles 
and tears at each other’s joy or sorrow, that 
affectionate officiousness which volunteers 
more readily as service becomes more diffi¬ 
cult. These are the things that give to 
home its present and most powerful attrac¬ 
tions;—where these abound, the mind re¬ 
poses in all the confidence of conscious^afe- 
ty, and in the satisfaction of ample enjoy¬ 
ment 
Mutual respect and attention between 
man and ’wife are essential to render them 
respectable in the eyes of their domestics and 
children; and also to maintain that healthy 
flow of soul, that cheerfulness and buoy¬ 
ancy of spirit, so necessary in bearing the 
ills and performing the duties of life. Kind¬ 
ness and respectful treatment are due to 
ourselves as wife and husband—for we can-1 
not love those whom we do not respect, nor 
can they love us in return. j 
Let it then be a principle of established 
authority like the laws of the Medes and 
Persians, that change not, to give each that 
affectionate attention which is mutually due 
between ourselves. 
Washington on Periodicals. —The fol¬ 
lowing sentiment of Washington is worthy 
of being printed in lettej’s of gold: — “ For 
myself, 1 entertain a high opinion of the 
utility of periodical publications. 1 consider 
such easy vehicles of knowledge more hap¬ 
pily calculated than any other to preserve 
the liberty, stimulate the industry, and me¬ 
liorate the morals of an enlightened and 
free people.” 
Rather Severe Criticism. —In a late 
number of an English paper (the Court 
Journal) we find the following notice of a 
poem entitled, “ Sybil —A Soul's History, 
and Other Poems;”, 
“ Misty absurdity, mere puerility— 
Writer deficient in common ability; 
Striving to wrap up nothing in mystery, 
Very ntt'ectedly called *A boul’s History;’ 
Nut a first etVort in scribbling inanity, 
(ISo says the preface, with ill-judged vanity,) 
List to the merciful sentence wo utter, iiiun; 
Peace to your ‘ soul,’ but your book—to the butter 
man.” 
Obedience is the first duty to be learned, 
and the last to be practiced. 
laMes’ lEjiartmuit. 
THE HOUR OE TWILIGHT, 
There is a peculiarly agreeable charm 
in this still and quiet hour, which cannot be 
definitely described, when the soft tranquil¬ 
ity that succeeds the busy, bustling day, 
diffuses through the soul a soothing emo¬ 
tion, and imparts superior beauty to the 
face of nature. The rich and varied scenes 
of a summer landscape are penciled in all 
their loveliness—the glowing splendors of 
day, and the gloom of night are blended, 
clothing all things in magic light 
The soft and serene stillness that reigns 
is well calculated to awaken reflection, and 
is peculiarly congenial to the cultivation 
of Memory. It is when twilight’s gentle 
shadows are stealing around, that the voice 
of by-gone days is clearly heard, and each 
vicissitude of the past is called up in regu¬ 
lar array before the mind. Pleasing and 
painful emotions, strangely blended, rush 
unbidden ov'er the soul, as the mind roams 
unchecked and unguided over past events, 
whether of pleasure or of sorrow. The 
remembrance of loved and cherished friends 
glides through the mind, and bright and 
accurate appear their images on memory’s 
mirror. And often, too, in these moments 
of retrospection, melancholy sensations per¬ 
vade the heart, when thoughts flit o’er it of 
the friends whose presence fling a cheering 
spell arcund us, which we would willingly 
have retained. 
Who would exchange the pleasures mem¬ 
ory brings in this tranquil hour, for all the 
trifling amusements of levity and mirth, 
within the halls of opulence and profusion ? 
Within the peaceful precincts of retirement, 
the weary, exhausted spirits are renovated, 
and the care-worn soul finds a soothincr 
^ O 
balm in the unsullying joys which cluster, 
at twilight’s gentle hour, around the home 
of seclusion. Removed from the conten¬ 
tions and turmoils of the busy world, the 
mind can survey at pleasure the works of 
Nature—observe Ihe operations of its laws, 
and admire the Wisdom that formed them. 
At such a time, and in such a place, where 
no zephyr bears on its wing the discord¬ 
ance and tumults of life’s bustling scenes, 
may be spread the banquet of intellectual 
delight Who would exchange such enjoy¬ 
ments for the morbid pleasures of court 
and palace, or who would prefer the glit¬ 
tering pageantry of wealth and splendor, 
or the showy trappings of the proud and 
gay, to the simple but unsurpassed loveli¬ 
ness of Nature ? None susceptible of en¬ 
nobling thoughts, save perhaps those who 
are corrupted by vice, or whose better feel¬ 
ings are withered by the blighting effect of 
uncongenial associations. 
This peaceful hour brings a charm which 
is enjoyed in every season of life. The 
youth may employ it in rearing golden fab¬ 
rics, “ too bright to know reality on earth,” 
—in sketching scenes of illusive coloring, 
which the soberness of age destroys—or 
breathing deep and fervent aspirations after 
knowledge and fame, which no labor can 
attain. Others may pass it in forming 
schemes to obtain wealth and all its luxuri¬ 
ous aggrandizement—while he who stands 
upon “the declivity of age,” may enjoy in 
it the retrospection of a well-spent life. 
_ _ _Em ily. 
THE NEWSPAPER. 
It is a great mistake in female education 
to keep the young lady’s time and attention 
devoted to the fashionable and polite liter-i 
ature of the day. If you would qualify 
her for conversation, you must give her 
something to talk about—give her an ac¬ 
quaintance with this actual world, and its 
transpiring events. Urge her to read the 
newspapers, and be familiar with the pres¬ 
ent character and movements of our race. 
History is of some importance; but the 
world is dead, and we have nothing to do 
with it. Our thoughts and our concerns 
should be for the present world, to know 
what it is, and to improve its condition.—- 
Let her have an intelligent opinion, and be 
able to sustain intelligent conversation con¬ 
cerning the mental, moral, and political 
movements of our times. Let the gilded 
cuinuals and poems on the centre table be 
kept covered with the weekly and daily 
journals. Or, if they are left in the book¬ 
store, and the table is well supplied with 
newspapers, her mental and moral charac¬ 
ter, and her common sense will not suffer 
on account of their absence. Let the whole 
family, men, women and children read the 
newspapers. And if any body has a thought 
or a fact worth communicating, let him not 
try to make a big, sleepy book, but speak 
to the world through the newspapers.— 
This is the way to make an intelligent, re- 
phblican, and virtuous population. 
|iiniini| Etniiing. 
For th«f Rural New-Yorker. 
GOOD COUNSEL-AN EXTRACT. 
My friend, you are wrong. Even if all 
were as it ajipears to you; if he in whom ' 
you have trusted—to whom you have laid 
open your heart—has betrayed your confi¬ 
dence, and abandoned your love without a 
motive, save the desire to wound you; if ail 
this and more be true, you do not well to 
be angry at your race—’to rail at the world 
and lie down in despair. Remember, He 
who came to save the lost did not offer to 
us a single example of anger or disgust, 
even when those around spit upon him and 
crowned him with thorns. Remember, 
too. His words—“Love your enemies, bless 
them that curse, do good to them that hate 
you, and pray for them that despitefully 
use you.” 
Now there are many, very many, ali 
around you, who, notwithstanding all your 
irritability, are offering a thousand little 
acts of kindness by which to draw you 
from the gloom in which you are plunged, 
into the warm sunshine of social feeling.- 
They see your adaptation to love, and to en¬ 
joy the love of those around you; they see 
that after all your disappointment, you can 
; scarcely refrain from pouring out the warm 
tide of your affections on all around—that 
‘ though you repel with contempt all offers 
to esablish an interchange of kind acts, 
.you have yet at the bottom of your heart, 
well of love for your neighbors, from 
I which the stone must soon be removed, 
that there may bubble up from its very 
depths a warm, sparkling stream to gladden 
, their souls. They know that love is the 
ever acting principle of our nature, to 
which, when the storm has passed, anger 
and hatred must give place; and knowing 
i this, they love you and will love you in 
spite of yourself—and, mark my words, 
they will be loved in return. 
Men must love each other; they cannot 
avoid it. If j’ou look around, you will see 
them continually in little acts of kindness, 
for which they can expect no return, pay¬ 
ing Uicir heart’s tribute to strangers they 
may never see again. 
When you went, a grown boy, to the 
city, how many even wentoutof their way to 
become acquainted with you; what pains 
they took to warn you at the approach of 
danger; and in how many ways they sought 
to win and to retain your love! When you 
were too ill to labor, how many'books they 
lent for your perusal; how many kind let¬ 
ters, filled with the language of the heart, 
their weary fingers wrote to cheer your 
lonely hours; how often they fled from the 
social circle to spend an honr m prayer and 
holy conversation in your room^; and how 
fervently they prayed for your recovery.— 
You had done nothing to deserve all this; 
but they are Christians, and thus obey their 
Master’s command to “ love one another.” 
Yet, because one whom you ought not to 
have trusted has been false, you are ready 
to curse your race. You do not well.— 
Love God first, then your neighbor. He 
will love you if you will only suffer him; ■ 
indeed he does so now. p. c. of t. 
SOUND ARGUMENT. 
Dr. Lathrop, in one of his sermons, 
says:—" If it were true that there is no 
God, what evidence can the atheist have 
that he shall not exist, and be miserable 
after death ? How came he to exist at all ? 
' Whatever was the cause of his existence 
here, may be the cause of hU existence 
hereafter. Or, if there is no cause, he may 
exist without a cause in another state, as 
well as this. And if his corrupt heart and 
abominable works make him so unhappy 
^ here, then he would rather be annihilated 
■ than to run the hazard of a future exist¬ 
ence ; what hinders but he may be unhap¬ 
py forever ? That man is a fool, who wish¬ 
es there was no God, hoping thus to be se- 
' cure from future misery, for admitting there 
' is no God, still he may exist hereafter as 
well as here; if he does exist, his corruption 
and vices may render him miserable eter¬ 
nally as well as for the present” 
Revenge is a momentary triumph, of 
which the satisfaction dies at once, and is 
succeeded by remorse; whereas forgiveness, 
which is the noblest of all revenges, entails 
a perpetual pleasure. 
Persons who are always innocently 
cheerful and good humored are very useful 
in the world; they maintain peace and hap¬ 
piness, and spread a thankful temper among 
all who live around them. 
