laMes’ lEpartmcnt. 
THE HUSBAND’S SONG. 
BV CHARLES SWAIN. 
Rainy and rougli sets the day, 
There’s a heart beating for somebedy ; 
I must be up and away— 
Somebody’s anxious for somebody. 
Thrice has she b'^en to the gate— 
Thrice has she listened for somebody; 
’Midst the night, stormy and late. 
Somebody’s waiting for somebody I 
There’ll be a comforting fire— 
There’ll be a welcome for somebody I 
One, in her neatest attire. 
Will look to the table for somebody. 
Though the star’s fled from the west, 
There is a star yet for somebody ; 
Lighting the home he loves best— 
Warming the bosom of somebody ! 
There’ll be a coat o’er the chair, 
There will be slippers for somebody ; 
There’ll be a wife’s tender care- 
Love’s fond embracement for somebody. 
There’ll be the little one's charms— 
Soon they’ll be wakened for somebody ; 
When I have both in my arms. 
Oh, but how blest will be somebody 1 
Written for the Rural New'-Yorker. 
THE MESSENGER BIRD. 
“ Thou art come from the spirit land, 
sweet bird—thou art come from the spirit 
land.” Right gladly do we welcome thee 
here, for surely thou hast brought some 
message of tenderness unto us poor mortals. 
Thy beautiful form and wide spread wings 
truly indicate that thou art on some errand 
of love; and wdlt thou not tell us of that 
happy land where dwell’st many that we 
have loved? Say, are they as happy now 
as when surrounded by Earthly friends?— 
Have they forgotten those they cherished 
on Earth ? Oft have we called unto them, 
but they answer us not,—can it be that 
they love us yet? Come thou dear little 
stranger, and bo my friend—fold thy wings 
a moment by my side—that I may listen 
to the sweet tones of thy voice, until my 
own catches the accent, and my heart 
grows wiser and better, while thou warblest 
thy songs from those celestial spheres. Yes, 
thou seem’st to have the voice of an angel 
sent on a joyous mission—revealing unto 
jnan, that S 2 nritual forms are furnished 
with full fledged pinions where with we 
may rise and soar through etherial space. 
And.does not this embody a beautiful 
sentiment ? A spirit with wings, free from 
all earthly care and sorrow! What is there 
better adapted to call out the finer feelings 
of the heart-to elevate and chasten the 
affections, and enable a person to look for¬ 
ward with a bright anticipation of the fu¬ 
ture ? Oh tlrat language could express the 
the thrilling emotions that are filling my 
heart. But my pen is inadequate to the 
task. It is not meet that such an one^should 
attempt to unfold the truths of so exalted 
a theme. But it is a favorite fancy of mine, 
that the “footsteps of angels” are often 
falling close beside us, and the songs of ser¬ 
aphs' floating around us;—yes, often in im¬ 
agination has a sister’s voice spoken in tones 
that were like heavenly melody to the ear. 
It has been beautifully said that “music 
is the voice of affection, a universal medium 
•between human hearts”—and at times the 
voice of that dear sister has almost seemed 
united with instrumental music, gliding like 
a pervading soul into the heart—producing 
tones that breathed naught but affection 
and beatitude, and I could but say, “sweet 
Sister, I cannot, would not call thee back, 
for thy form is so beautiful and thy lips 
wear such a sweet smile, that indeed thou 
must be truly happy. I would that I might 
receive frequent visitings from thy spirit, 
and learn from thee the way to happiness.” 
“ Thou art come from the spirit land, sweet 
bird.” Oh tell me, are these all vain imag¬ 
inations ?—but no, they cannot be. Thou 
dost not say they are—for, 
With a alow and noiaeloas footatop 
Comes that measonger divine. 
Takes the vacant chair beside me— 
Lays her gentle hand in mine. 
Unutterod, yet comprehended, 
la the spirit’s voiceless prayer— 
Soft rebukes in blessings ended, 
Breathing from her lips of air. 
Penjield, N. Y., 1850. Laura J. b. k. 
Names. —Emma is from the German, 
and signifies a nurse; Caroline, from the 
Latin, noble-minded; George, from the 
Greek, a farmer; Martha, from Hebrew, 
bitterness; the beautiful and common Ma¬ 
ry is Hebrew, and means a drop of salt 
water, a tear; Sophia, from Greek, wisdom; 
Susan, from Hebrew, a lily; Thomas, from 
the Hebrew, a twin; Robert, from the Ger¬ 
man, famous in council. 
Some confine their view to the present, 
some extend it to futurity. The butterfly 
fluttei’s round the meadows, the eagle 
crosses the seas. 
• MOORE’S RURAL NEIE-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
CHARACTER OF A YOUNG LADY. 
DRAWN FROM LIFE. 
Harriet is not a beauty, but in her pres-, 
ence beauties are content with themselves. 
At first she scarcely appears pretty, but the 
more she is beheld the more agreeable she 
seems. She gains where others lose, and 
what she gains she never loses. She is 
equalled by few in a sweet expression of 
countenance, and, without dazzling behold¬ 
ers, she interests them. She loves dress, 
and is a good judge of it; she despises fine¬ 
ry, but dresses with a peculiar grace, mixing 
simplicity with elegance. She covers her 
beauties so artfully, as to give grace to the 
imagination. She prepares herself to man¬ 
age a family of her own by managing that 
of her father. Cookery is familiar to her, 
and the prices and qualities of provisions; 
and she is a ready accountant. She holds 
cleanliness and neatness to be indispensable 
in a woman, and that a slattern is disgust¬ 
ing, especially if beautiful. The attention 
given to the external, does not make her 
overlook her more material duties. Har¬ 
riet’s undeKtanding is solid, without being 
brilliant Her sensibility is too great for a 
perfect equality of temper; but her sweet¬ 
ness renders that inequality harmless. She 
suffers with patience any wrong done to 
her; biit is impatient to repair any wrong 
that sho has done, and does it so cordially 
as to make it appear meritorious. If she 
happens to disoblige a companion, her joy 
and caresses, when restored to favor, show 
the burden that lay upon her heart. 
The love of virtue is Harriet’s ruling pas¬ 
sion ; she loves it because no other thing is 
so lovely; she loves it because it is the glo¬ 
ry of the female sex; she loves it as the 
only road to happiness—misery being the 
sure attendant of a woman without virtue. 
Of the absent she never talks without cir¬ 
cumspection—her female acquaintances es¬ 
pecially. She has remarked, that what 
renders a woman prone to detraction, is 
talking of her own sex; and that they are 
never equitable in respect to men. Harriet 
never talks of women but to express the 
good she knows of them; of others she says 
nothing. Without much knowledge of the 
world, she is attentive, obliging, and grace¬ 
ful in all she does. A good disposition does 
more for her than art in others. She pos¬ 
sesses a degree of politeness which, void of 
ceremony, proceeds from a desire to please, 
and which never fails to please. 
MRS. BLANNERHASSETT. 
Mr. Mansfield, of the Cincinnati Chron¬ 
icle, in a recent article, gives the following 
sad version of the death of Mrs. Blanner- 
IIASSETT : — 
“The end of all Mrs. Blannerhassett’s 
beauty and elegance was sad enough. She 
died as late as 1843, in the city of New 
York, in absolute poverty, attended and 
laid in the grave by the charity of a society 
of Irish females.” 
While traveling in the neighborhood of 
Blannerhassett’s Islands, a few years since, 
we spent a night at the residence of Judge 
Cutler, father of the Hon. W. P. Cutler, 
late Speaker of the Ohio House. He was 
well acquainted with Blannerhassett and his 
wife, and gave us some particulars respect¬ 
ing them, which, if more widely known, 
would detract greatly from the character 
which history and romance have given to 
the lady:—Judge C. says she was beautiful 
and highly accomplished. She was fond of 
the chase, and rode the wildest hoi’ses. She 
was also a great pedestrian. He says he 
has often known her to walk from her resi¬ 
dence to Marietta and back in a day, a dis¬ 
tance of twenty-four miles. But with all 
her manifold accomplishments, and great 
beauty of person. Judge C. said she was at 
best but an “ accomplished courtezan.”— 
We conversed with several individuals upon 
the subject of Burr’s visit to the island, who 
were familiar with the circumstances, and 
one and «11, they agreed that the story de¬ 
rived most of its interest from the eloquence 
of Wirt. They wi^e united in the opinion 
that Mrs. Blannerhassett was the cause of 
the ruin of her husband, and gave us many 
particulars of the life she led that we for¬ 
bear to mention. 
That Wm. Wirt should have woven the 
subject of her downfall into a strain of the 
finest eloquence in the language, is now 
proof only of the genius of that great man 
— it served its end, but, from all we can 
learn, we fear that Mrs. Blannerhassett is 
indebted to that for much of the romance, 
and all the purity of her character. 
Ladies at the Table. —Females should 
study to promote pleasant conversation es¬ 
pecially at table. Ladies, strive to make 
yourselves agreeable at table, be sociable, 
come prepared to edify; .introduce, as op¬ 
portunity offers, pleasing and profitable con¬ 
versation. No where does a sensible wo¬ 
man appear to so great advantage as at ta¬ 
ble. A woman that graces the table, gra¬ 
ces everything. 
The sweetest flowers are those which 
shed their odors in quiet nooks and dingles; 
and the purest hearts are those whose deeds 
of love are. done in solitude and secret 
The most corrective punishment is kind¬ 
ness. 
Mtisullnnwiis. 
SHORT THINGS IN A SHORT WAY. 
Of course you can. You show it in your 
looks, in your motion, in your speech, in 
your everything. I can! A brave, hear¬ 
ty, substantial, soulful, manly, cheering ex¬ 
pression. ^here is character, force, vigor, 
determination, will in it We like it The 
words have a spirit sparkle, pungency, fla¬ 
vor, geniality, about them that takes one in 
the very right of places. 
I can! There is a world of meaning 
expressed, nailed down, epigrammised, ram¬ 
med into those few letters. Whole sermons 
of stern, solid, grand virtues. How we 
more than admire to hear the young man 
speak it out bravely, boldly, determinedly; 
as though it was an outsearching of his en¬ 
tire nature—a reflection of his inner soul. 
It tells of something that is earnest, sober, 
serious; of something that will battle and 
race and tumble with the world in a way 
that shall open, and brighten, and mellow 
men’s best eyes. 
I can! What spirit, purpose, intensity, 
reality, power in the phrase. It is a strong 
arm, a stout heart, a bold eye, a firm part, 
an indomitable will. We never knew a 
man possessed of its energy, vitality, fire, 
and light that did not attain eminence of 
some good sort. It could n’t be otherwise. 
It is in the nature, constitution, order, ne¬ 
cessity, inevitability of events that it should 
be so. I can, rightly, truly said, and then 
clinched and riveted by the manly, heroic, 
determined deed, is the secret, solution, 
philosophy of all great men’s lives. They 
took I can for a motto, and went forth and 
sturdily made of themselves and the world 
what they pleased. 
Then, young man, if you would-be some¬ 
thing besides a common, dusty, prosy way¬ 
farer in life, just put these magic words on 
your lips, and their musing, hopeful, ex¬ 
panding philosophy into your heart and 
arms. Do it and you are a made man. 
DON’T HURRY. 
No, don't hurry. It’s no sort of use.— 
You won’t get along half as fast We nev¬ 
er knew a fellow who was always hurrying 
that was n’t always behind hand. They 
are proverbial the world over for bringing 
nothing at all to pass. And it’s just what 
must be expected. Hurry, skurry, bluster, 
putter—what does it all amount to ? Not 
a straw—not a shadow. 
Dont be in a hurry, we repeat If you 
want to accomplish anything as it should be 
accomplished—do a thing as it should be 
done, you must go about it coolly, moder¬ 
ately, firmly, faithfully, heartily. Hurrying, 
fretting, fuming, sputtering will do no good 
—not the least 
Are great works or great men made in 
a hurry ? Not at all. They are the pro¬ 
duct of time, patience—the result of slow 
development Nothing of moment is made 
in a hurry. Nothing can be—nothing 
ought to be. It’s contrary to nature, rea¬ 
son, revelation, right, justice, philosophy, 
common sense. 
Your man of hurry is no sort of charac¬ 
ter—or rather a very shiftless one. Al¬ 
ways in confusion; loose at every point, un • 
hinged and unjointed, blowing and puffing 
here and there; racing, ranting, staving, 
but all ending in smoke andjgas. No, my 
dear sir, if you have anything to do, don’t 
in the name of the great Mogul, get at. it 
in a hurry. Be sure if you do you’ll have 
the matter all to go over again. Be quiet, 
calm, reasonable, and plan and act like a 
man. Then you’ll bring something about 
—and in no other way. 
CARRY A THING THROUGH. 
Carry a thing through. That’s it, 
don’t do anything else. If you once fairly 
soundly, wide-awakely begin a thing, let it 
be carried through though it cost your best 
comfort, time, energies, and all that you 
can command. We heartily abominate 
this turning backward, this wearying and 
fainting of soul and purpose. It bespeaks 
imbecility of mind, want of character, cour¬ 
age, true manlinesss. 
Carry a thing ihrough. Don’t begin it 
till you are fully prepared for its accom¬ 
plishment. Think, study, dig till you know 
your ground, see your way. This done, 
launch out with all your soul, heart, life, 
and fire, neither turning to right or loft— 
Push on giantly—push as though you were 
born for the very work you are about be¬ 
ginning ; as though creation had been wait¬ 
ing through all time for your especial hand 
and spirit Then you ’ll do something 
worthy of yourself and kind. 
Carry a thing through. Don’t leap and 
dally from one thing to another. No man 
ever did anything that way. You can’t 
Be strong-minded. Be pluckish, patient 
consistent Be hopeful, stern, manly.— 
When once fairly in a work don’t give it 
up. Don’t disgrace yourself by being on 
this thing to-day, on that to-morrow, and 
on another next day. We don’t care if 
you are the most active mortal living; we 
don’t care if you labor day and night in 
season and out be sure the end of your life 
will show nothing if you perpetually change 
from object to object Fortune, success, 
fame, position, are never gained but by pi¬ 
ously, determinedly, bravely sticking, growl¬ 
ing, living to a thing till it is fairly accom- ■ 
plished. • 
In short you must carry a thing through 
if you would be any body or any thing.— 
No matter if it is hard. No matter if it 
does cost you the pleasure, the society, the 
thousand pearly gratifications of life. No 
matter for these. Stick to the thing and 
carry it through. Believe you were made 
for the matter, and that no one else can do 
it at all. Put forth your whole energies. 
Stir, wake, electrify yourself and go forth 
to the task. Only once learn to carry a 
thing through in all its completeness and 
proportion, and you will become a hero.— 
You will think better of yourself—others 
will think better of you. Of course they 
will. The world in its very heart admires 
the stern, detetermined doer. It sees in 
him its best sight, its highest object, its . 
richest treasure. Drive right along then , 
with whatever you undertake. Consider ^ 
yourself amply sufficient for the deed.— - 
You ’ll be successful, never fear.— Waverly \ 
Mag. 
THE PIN AND THE NEEDLE. 
Lem. Smith, the cute and philosophical 
editor of the “ Madison Record,” tells the : 
following witty fable, which is as good as 
anything we have seen out of JEsop. A 
pin and a needle, says this American Fon- 
taine, being neighbors, in a work-basket, and 
both being idle folks, began to quarrel, as 
idle folks are apt to do:— 
“ I should like to know,” said the pin, 
“ what you are good for, and how you ex¬ 
pect to get through the world without a 
head ?” 
“ What is the use of your head,” replied 
the needle, rather sharply, “ if you have no- 
eye ?” 
“ What is the use of an eye,” said the 
pin, “ if there is always something in it?” 
“ I am more active, and can go through 
more work than you can,” said the needle. 
“ Yes, but you will not live long.” 
“ Why not?” 
“ Because you have always a stitch in 
your side,” said the pin. 
“ You’are a poor, crooked creature,” said 
the needle. 
“ And you are so proud that you can’t 
bend without breaking your back.” 
“ I’ll pull your head off if you insult me 
again.” 
“ I’ll put your eye out if you touch me; 
remember your life hangs on a single 
thread,” said the pin. 
While they were thus conversing, a little 
girl entered, and undertaking to sew, she 
very soon broke off the needle at the eye. 
She then tied the thread around the neck 
of the pin, and attempting to sew with it, 
she soon pulled its head off, and threw it 
into the dirt by the side of the broken 
needle. 
“ Well, here we are,” said the needle. 
“ We have nothing to fight about now,” 
said the pin. “It seems misfortune has 
brought us to our senses.” 
“ A pity we had not come to them soon¬ 
er,” said the needle. “ How much we Te- 
semble human beings, who quarrel about 
their blessings till they lose them, and nev¬ 
er find out they are brothel's till they lay 
down in the dust together, as we do.” 
BEAUTIFUL EXTRACT. 
One fountain there is, whose deep lying 
vein has only just begun to throw up its 
silver drops among mankind—a fountain 
which will allay the thirst of millions, and 
give to those who drink from it, peace and 
joy. It is knowledge; the fountain of in¬ 
tellectual cultivation which gives health to 
mankind — makes clear the vision, brings 
joy to his life, and breathes over his soul’s 
destiny a deep repose. Go and drink there¬ 
from, thou whom fortune has not favored, 
and thou wilt soon feel thyself rich! Thou 
mayest go forth into the world and find thy¬ 
self everywhere at home; thou canst culti¬ 
vate in thy own little chamber; thy friends 
are ever around thee; and can zoxry on 
wise conversations with thee, nature, anti¬ 
quity, heaven are accessible to thee! The 
industrious kingdom of the ant, the works 
of man, and raiiibow, and music records, 
offer to thy soul equal hospitality.— 
rika Bremer. 
Work if you would Rise. —Richard 
Burke being found in a revery, shortly after 
an extraordinary display of powers in the 
House of Commons by his brother Edmund 
and questioned by Mr. Malone as to the 
cause, replied, “ I have been wondering 
how Ned contrived to monopolize all the 
talents of the family; but then, again, I re¬ 
member, when we were at play, he was at 
work." The force of the anecdote is in¬ 
creased by the fact, that Richard Burke 
was considered not inferior, in natural tal¬ 
ents, to his brother. Yet the one rose to 
greatness, while the other died compara¬ 
tively obscure. Don’t trust to your genius, 
young man, if you would rise; but work, 
work!! 
Be not affronted at a jest If one throw 
! salt at thee thou wilt receive no harm, un- 
, less thou hast sore places. 
Sutiiiai] Smiling. 
THE HISTORY OF LIFE. \ 
BY BARRY CORNWALL. ( 
D.ay dawned. Within a curtained room 
Filled to faintness with perfume, 
A lady lay at point of doom. 
Day closed. A child had seen the light, 
But for the lady, fair and bright, 
Sho rested in undreaming night! 
Spring came. The lady’s grave was green, 
And near it oftentimes was seen 
A gentle boy, with thoughtless mien. 
Years fled. He wore a manly face, 
And struggled in the world’s rough race, 
And won at last a lofty place. 
And then he died. Behold before ye 
Humanity’s brief sum and story. 
Life, Death and all there is of—Glory. ' 
SABBATH-BREAKING AND CRIME. 
A distinguished gentleman of the bar, 
who has long been extensively engaged in 
the business of courts,—himself a member 
of no Christian church, but exemplary in 
his deportment, and free from all outward 
vices—remarked that he did not recollect 
a case of a criminal, found guilty in a court 
of justice, who was not a habitual Sabbath- 
breaker, He knew of no one thing in 
which criminals were so universally agreed 
as in their disregard of the Sabbath. And 
he added, “ There is no moral integrity in a 
Sabbath-breaker.” A distinguished police 
officer, of long experience, in determining 
in his own mind whether persons suspected 
of crimes were guilty or not, was accustom¬ 
ed, he says, to inquire, first of all, “ How do 
they spend the Sabbath ?” If he found 
that they spent it in dissipation and amuse¬ 
ment, he prosecuted his inquries with vigor, 
expecting from extensive observation, that 
he should find them guilty. What, then, 
are the men doing who break the Sabbath, 
or induce others to do it? Undermining 
their moral integrity, increasing their liabil¬ 
ity, and warring against the great interests 
of man. 
mSTRUMENTAL MUSIC IN CHURCHES. 
Whence the objection that is sometimes 
raised, against the use of instruments in 
the church ? Men confound the praise in 
which God delights, and which should be 
rendered to him with those vibrations of air 
which are solely for us. The very manner 
in which this objection is stated betrays this 
want of discrimination. We are asked, 
“ Can unconscious instruments praise God ?” 
Unconscious instruments may excite us to 
praise him. Let it be once clearly perceiv¬ 
ed, that the emotions of the soul are, strict¬ 
ly speaking, the praise offered to God, and 
it will matter little as to the sounds that 
may aid in awakening these emotions, 
whether they proceed from human organs 
of speech, or from the wood, the wire, or 
the brass. Who would think of suppress¬ 
ing his feelings of reverence and. gratitude 
to the Supreme Being, because excited by 
the singing of birds, the rippling of brooks, 
or the murmuring of the winds ? Religious 
praise is a gushing forth from the rich, deep 
fountains of the heart; and whateVer may 
help to unseal those fountains, whether it 
be the organ or the horn, may be employed 
as innocently as the human voice. 
DISCRETION. 
What an attainment, what a possession, 
i what a knowledge of ourselves and of man- 
I kind does its exercise indicate ! To know 
when to speak and act—to know how to 
speak and act—to know before whom to 
speak and act—how useful, how important, 
and how necessary its exercise, in all our 
intercourse witB society, with one another, 
and particularly of parents before their chil¬ 
dren. Discretion, if it is a gift, should be 
prized as a treasure, if acquired, the pos¬ 
sessor should be the more envied for his 
attainment. Often, a little indiscretion on 
the part of a parent may lead to unhappy 
reflections. A mishap may wound a child’s 
sensibilities, from which it may never recov¬ 
er. You may reverse the action of the 
most naturally amiable disposition, by sour¬ 
ness and unkindness, and thus induce a 
peevish, petulant, unhappy state of mind 
and unhealthiness of body. A due exer¬ 
cise of discretion would avert so unfortu¬ 
nate a state or condition. The evidence of 
mutual confidence and attachment are often 
manifested without a due exercise of dis¬ 
cretion, and visit upon the confiding and 
unwary the remarks of observers. No class 
should exercise it more or learn to hide 
well, than those who are forming relations 
for life. It should be taught by parents to 
their children, both by example and pre¬ 
cept How many errors and follies it would 
save us from committing. Discretion—it is 
the ultimatum of female charms, and scarce¬ 
ly less in males. It is of priceless value: 
though within the reach of most, yet few 
possess it eminently. 
There is a difference between discretion 
and caution or cunning. The cautious are 
not always discreet, and the cunning are 
not always wise. A nature too confiding is 
not always the most desirable, as it is apt 
to suppose every one as ingenuous as itself. 
The poet had his eye on discretion when 
he said: 
' *‘0 wad some power the giftie gi’us, 
, 1 To see ourselves as others see us, 
! It would from many a folly free us, 
! And foolish notion.” 
