MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
MY MOTHER’S VOICE. 
Mv Alothcr'f) voice ! liow often creep.s 
Its cadence on niy lonely hours ! 
Like healing sent on wings of sleep, 
Or dew to the unconscious llower.s. 
I can forget her melting prayer 
While leaping pulses madly fly ; 
lJut in the still, unbroken air 
Her gentle tones come stealing by ; 
And years, and sin, and manhood flee. 
And leave me at my Mother’s knee. 
ARE YOU A PARENT? 
And if so, what lessons are you teaching 
that child who is so fondly looking to you 
for guidance, who is listening to catch the 
first syllable that falls from your lips, and 
who is ready to copy the first example you 
may unconsciously present? Perhaps in 
the arms of a mether there reposes the first 
and only one. It is yet innocent; within its 
little bosom a heart beats gently, but it is a 
heart uncontaminated by sin, undisturbed 
by care. It knows nothing of the conflicting- 
elements of this wicked world, and as the 
mother gazes upon its sinless form, she 
firmly resolves, and the father assents, that 
the lessons of temperance, morality and 
truth, shall early and faithfully be instilled 
into its young heart, and that no effort shall 
be wanting to rear it for usefulness to soci¬ 
ety and the world. 
A few years pass away, but during this 
time the mind of that child has not been 
inactive. It has been allowed to mingle 
with others of its age; its range of observa¬ 
tion has been growing wider and still wider 
since it left the arms of its mother; its busy 
feet have been active to over-step a little the 
limits which have been carefully assigned 
it. A second and a third child has since 
been given, and the care and anxieties of 
the parents consequently increased. There 
are three now, instead of one, over which 
parentiil guardianship is to be exerci.sed, 
and perhaps the business and cares of life 
have increased three fold in other respects. 
Now neglect begins to show itself, and the 
sad effect of this neglect is too apparent in | 
the oldest child; and his influence upon the ! 
younger children is of a depressing, rather 
than an elevating character. Parental neg¬ 
lect opens the way for evil influence from 
another source. The child seeks compan¬ 
ionship, and too frequently finds it, in grown 
up persons, of vicious inclinations and hab- ; 
its, teachers, whose instruction is of the most | 
fatal character. 
To all parents let us say-. — Beware lest 
others corrupt the trusting hearts of your 
children, and lead them away from the path 
of rectitude; lest others sow tares among 
the wheat of innocence and virtue. The 
unoccupied minds of your children are fields 
in which duty calls you to labor, and if you 
omit to teach them the great lessons of self- 
denial ; if you fixil to impress upon their 
minds and hearts a supreme regard for tn/th 
and virtue, you commit them to the boist¬ 
erous ocean of life without a rudder, liable 
to be wrecked at every gale. We urge it 
as a duty incumbent on parents to give 
their children “ line upon line, precept up¬ 
on precept;” not continuing for a month nor 
a year only, but until mature age removes 
them from parental guardianship. Thus 
you will discharge a duty which, if faithful¬ 
ly attended to, will insure you the lasting 
gratitude and re.spectof your offspring, who 
will “rise uj) and call you blessed.”— Ar- 
thur’s Gazelle. 
A DAUGHTER’S LOVE. 
( 
There is no one so slow to note the follies 
or sins of a father, as a daughter. The wife 
of his bosom may lly in horror from his em¬ 
brace, but his fair-haired child cleaves to 
him in boundless charity'. Quickened by 
the visitation of pain to the parenbil dwell¬ 
ing, her prayers are more brief, but more 
earnest—her efforts doubled and untiring; 
and if she can but win a transient smile from 
that sullen and gloomy face, she is paid— 
oh! how richly piiid! for all her sleepless 
cares and unceasing labor. The father 
may sink from deep to deep—from a lower 
to a yet low^er depth. Those who in a hap¬ 
pier hour received largely of his benefac¬ 
tions, may start when they behold his sha¬ 
dow, and accelerate their pace to get beyond 
it—all, all may forsake him—God and the 
world—all but Satan and his daughter!— 
Poor child! if thou canst not save, thy fee¬ 
ble torch, made bright tis thy power canst 
make it, throws, at least, a flickering light 
upon the path, until the object of thy un¬ 
quenchable love has forever left thee, and 
is shrouded in the thick darkness; and when 
undone—when gone from thee, and gone 
forever—thou mayest wed thy early love, 
and know in him all that thy young heart 
pictured, yet, again and again, in the midst 
of thy placid joy, even with thy smiling in¬ 
fant on thy knee, the lost one will not be 
forgotten. Seeing the past, as it were only 
yesterday, forgetful of thy little darling, thou 
wilt exclaim, from the depths of thy ever- 
mindful and affectionate spirit, “ My father! 
0, my father!” Such is a daughter’s love. 
He who giveth his thoughts to charity 
carries the key of Heaven. 
A short" SERMON. 
From a periodical called the “ Semico¬ 
lon,” published at Cincinnati, we extract the 
following short but comprehensive sermon 
on virtuous women. It is very much in the 
style of some of the old divines, who were 
wont to thus cover up censure in mock lau¬ 
dation. We trust that the inferences drawn 
from the texts quoted will not apply to the 
fair readers of the Rural :— 
Text.—W ho can find a virtuous woman? for 
her price is far above rubies.— Solomon. 
As virtuous women have in our days be¬ 
come as plenty as they were rare in the 
days of Solomon, we can easily test the ac¬ 
curacy of his description, detecting his in- 
accuraeies, and observing how they are in¬ 
termingled with correct description, of 
which Avc subjoin the following:— 
“ She seokoth wool and fla.x, and worketh wil¬ 
lingly witli her hands.” 
Hired laborers are technically denomina¬ 
ted “ hands,” and so are the slaves on the 
other side of the river. The inaccuracy in 
the above account consists in the use of 
“ hands,” for servants of both sexes, it be¬ 
ing generally confined to the males. The 
correct portion of the description is, that 
the virtuous woman is willing that her 
“ hands,” or servants, should do her work. 
” She is like the merchant ships—she bringeth 
her food from afar.” 
This simile has generally been consider¬ 
ed very correct. Merchant ships usually 
carry small burdens in proportion as they 
are swift sailing and stylishly rigged; and 
the more expensive and beautiful they are, 
the less profitable are they. “ Her food is 
brought from afar,” that is to say, her 
tea comes from China, her sugar from the 
West Indies, and her other luxuries from 
all parts of the world. 
“ She consideroth a field, and buyeth it; with 
the fruit of her hands she plantelh a vineyard.” 
That is to say, the virtuous woman being- 
occasional ly tired of the town, persuades 
her husband to buy a country seat, and by 
the labor of the hired hands, to ornament 
it with vines and fruit trees. 
“ She girdeth her loins with strength, and 
strengtheiieih her arms.” 
This is strictly correct. The virtuous wo¬ 
man requires a strong- girdle around her 
loins, in order to make her waist as small as 
fashion requires; and she must strengthen 
her arms in order to draw her girdle as 
tight as is necessary. 
“ She percoiveth that her merchandise is good; 
lier candle goeth not out by night.” 
That is, when she goes a shopping, she 
examines an immense quantity of goods, 
for the purpose of being sure that they are 
of the best quality, before she makes a pur¬ 
chase. Her candle, of course, cannot go out by 
night, her give a party or go to one. 
“ She layeth her hands to tho spindle, and her 
hands hold tho di.staff.” 
This is a very obscure passage, <ind it is 
not easy to determine what the terms 
“spindle ” and “ distaff” mean, when used 
in the above connection. It is generally ad¬ 
mitted that they mean something exclusive¬ 
ly used by women; but whether they were 
articles that have gone out of use and are 
forgotten, or are the names of something 
now in use, is a matter of great controver¬ 
sy. Some persons are of the former opin¬ 
ion, while others think they must have been 
musical instruments, like the piano and 
guitar. Others imagine that they were ar¬ 
ticles of household furniture, such as hand¬ 
bell, or a pull-bell, to which the virtuous wo¬ 
man has frequent occasions to lay her hand. 
Upon the whole, the decision of thequecstion 
is so difficult, that we leave it to our reaVlers. 
“ Slie makcib her-sclf coverings of tapestry— 
lier clolbing is of silk and purple.” 
That is to say, the virtuous woman is 
dressed in the most expensive style, and the 
richest materials arc used for her cloth- 
ino-. This test of a virtuous woman beino 
O ... . ® 
easy to the public, it is not extraordinary 
that it should be a favorite one. 
But, without proceeding further, it is evi¬ 
dent that at the present day, virtuous wo¬ 
men, instead of being as scarce as in the 
days of Solomon, arc quite as plenty as is 
necessary and convenient for the supply of 
the wants of the community; and an in¬ 
quiry like that at the head of this chapter 
would not tend to increase man’s reputa¬ 
tion for wisdom. 
Mrs. Fillmore’s Handiwork.— The New 
York Courier A Enquirer remarks that the 
Fair at Castle Garden presents to its visit¬ 
ors one point of attraction of a very re¬ 
markable and unique character. It is noth¬ 
ing less than a large gothic arm-chair, back¬ 
ed and cushioned with beautifully wrought 
needlework in worsted. The needlework is 
from the hands of the lady of one who now 
fills the Ihei^idential Chair— Millard Fill¬ 
more, President of the United States. It is 
probably the first instance on record in 
modern times, where the Industrial Exhi¬ 
bition of a great Nation haS been graced by 
the handicraft-work of the lady of one who 
occupied the position of Chief Magistrate. 
'L’his may it is to be hoped, excite the emu¬ 
lation of the fair daughters of our Republic. 
Much time remains to be redeemed from 
frivolous pursuits; the impress must be 
made strong that its perpetuity requires the 
best efforts of us all. 
.EiiiiullontDiw. 
GLEAMS OF OCTOBER SUNSHINE. 
There ^irc maiiy seasons in Autumn 
which call up far different thoughts from 
his who exclaimed— 
‘‘ 'J'hc melancholy days are come, the saddest of 
the year”— 
when, though we see around us the “ sear 
and yellow leaf,” there yet remains much of 
beauty and happiness. The melancholy of 
Autumn is a mild and soothing melancholy, 
and its sadness a sweet, a serene sadness. 
And then its sunshine —the sun of October 
shines into our hearts as that of no other 
month can. ^ It reminds us of the “ sun¬ 
shine of hind looks,” and we learn to love 
the smiles of our dearest friends. To me, it 
was ever so. Even in childhood, it was my 
wont to wander forth on such a day as this, 
to indulge in reveries of rapt and tranquil 
happiness, and such rambles still bring the 
same blessings—higher prized now, but not 
more fully enjoyed than of yore. 
A feeling akin to that experienced at the 
hour of evening twilight—when sun, moon, 
star, nor cloud appear in the sky — steals 
over us with all its witching quietness. — 
And does not the whole day now become 
only a better kind of twilight? The sun is 
scarcely seen or felt—the air is of a most 
delicious, soothing temperature—and every 
thing around wears a dreamy, shadowy ap¬ 
pearance, almost as hushed and peaceful as 
that meditative hour. 
We look, not so much on Nature and the 
world around us, as on the world within us 
—the world of memory and anticipation— 
the mighty realm of the Past, and the misty 
one of the Future—what has been and 
what shall be, with all their thronging and 
eventful associations. 0, the sweet, sweet 
thoughts that come to my soul, as on the 
“ wings of a dove,” through the hazy air of 
a mild October day! h. 
Maple Hill, Oct. 1850. 
A RELATIVE OF GEN. WASHINGTON 
A foreign correspondent of the New 
York Post, writing from Vienna furnishes 
the following information in relation to the 
family of Gen. Washington: 
“ One circumstance I ought not to omit. 
When dining at. the great table d’hotel, at 
Aug'sburg, I was introduced to a handsome 
young officer, by the name and title of the 
‘ Baron Washington,’ and afterwards to his 
two accomplished brothers. On inquiry, to 
my great surprise, I found they were the 
sons of a very distinguished General (in the 
Bavarian army,) and that he was of Eng¬ 
lish origin, his ancestor having emigrated 
from England to Holland on the death of 
Cromwell; that the late King, ‘ Maxirnillian,’ 
finding Gen. Washington a distinguished 
Major in the service of Holland, had indu¬ 
ced him to accept a command in his array, 
and that afterwards, being distinguished in 
seven campaigns, he gradually rose to the 
highest rank in the Bavarian army. The 
Baron informed me, his father, during the 
lifetime of President Washington, had re¬ 
ceived letters from him, and that no doubt 
existed that the ancestor of our Gen. Wash¬ 
ington was the brother of the grandfather 
of the Bavarian General. The Baron kind¬ 
ly promised to furnish me with a genealogy 
of his family, and copies of the letters re¬ 
ferred to, which I expect to receive before 
L return to the United States.” 
THE DEAD OF 1350. 
The year 1850 has been remarkable 
so for the deaths of notable persons. — 
Among them we may notice those of the 
President of the United States; the Ex- 
King of France; the Emperor of China; 
the President of St. Domingo ; a Royal 
Duke of England, besides the following:— 
Sir Robert Peel, one of the most distin¬ 
guished Prime Ministers England ever had; 
John C. Calhoun, one of the oldest Sena¬ 
tor in the Congress of the United States, 
and Ex-Vice President and Secretary of 
War; Sir Francis Jeffrey, one of the most 
masterly critics in the language; Words¬ 
worth, the famous poet, and Laureate of 
England; Neander, the able defender of 
Christianity Zchokke, the celebrated 
German novelist ; Berzelius, the notable 
Swedish Chemist; Adam Ramage, the 
maker of tho first printing press in this 
country; Rev. Dr. Judson, the venerable 
Baptist Missionary; Balzac, the French feu¬ 
illetonist; S. Margaret Fuller, the essayist; 
Sargent Prentice, the eloquent advocate; 
Com. Jones, of our Navy; Brig. Gen. Ma¬ 
son of our Army; FranklinH. Elmore,the 
successor of Mr. Calhoun in the Senate; 
Daniel P. King, the estimable member of 
Congress from Massachusetts; Jacob Hays, 
High Sheriff of New York, and a “terror 
to evil doers,” for over half a century; M. 
L. Davis, the friend and biographer of 
Aaron Burr—and others of less mark and 
likelihood. 
365 
>S: 
ROMANCE IN REAL LIFE. 
A FEW evenings ago, a scene took place 
in the Champs Elysees, almost unrivaled in 
the annals of romance. The tenor Borsari 
who has had a most magnificent success, 
and in Italy in particular, has taken advan¬ 
tage of a con^e to visit Paris. He was 
walking under the trees of the Champs 
Elysees, near the Seine, when he caught 
the sight of an old man, neatly dressed, 
dragging forth from an old fiddle some 
faint sounds to which no one listened.— 
Borsari started, struck his hand upon his 
forehead to collect his thoughts, and then 
leaving the ladies rushed up to the poor 
musician. “JEcco mi; it’s me,” said he, in 
a ringing voice. The old man raised his 
head in astonishment. “ Don’t you recogr 
nise me, Giacomo ? I am Borsari, your pu¬ 
pil, he to whom you opened the musical 
career, he who owes to you his reputation 
and his fortune.” “Borsari!” said- the vi¬ 
olinist, “ah! now I remember. You have 
fulfilled my predictions—you have collected 
gold and fame. I am pleased at it in the 
midst of my misfortunes.” “My poor 
master, what has reduced you to this ex¬ 
tremity ?” Then the old man told his sto¬ 
ry. He had become an impresario. He 
had, at the head of a troop of singers, gone 
through the isles of* Greece; but misfor¬ 
tune had everywhere been his fate. After 
a miraculous escape from shipwreck, he got 
an attack of the paralysis. Incompetently 
cured, he came to Paris to an old pupil, a 
lady, who was kind to him, but who sud¬ 
denly died. Giacomo then went into the 
orchestra of a little theatre, but at last re¬ 
duced to the last extremity, he came to 
play in the Champs Elysees. While the 
old man spoke, Dorsari was feeling his 
pockets. All he found was a couple of 
pounds. Suddenly he took a bold resolu¬ 
tion.—“ Giacomo, do you recollect the great 
air of ‘La Calunnia?’” “Yes.” “Can 
you execute the accompaniment ?” “Some¬ 
how.” “ Begin.” At once, in a ringing, 
splendid voice, Borsari commenced his 
magnificent piece. A crowd collected, the 
singing cafes were deserted, carriages drew 
up, and a fashinable audience descended 
from them. At the sight of such an audi¬ 
ence, the old man roiLsed himself, his bow, 
directed by a firm hand, drew forth deli¬ 
cious sounds. The audience w'ere struck 
with admiration, and the setting sun seem¬ 
ed to transport every one to Italy. When he 
ended, Borsari took round his hat No one 
refused. Gold poured in as well as silver; 
and when he had emptied his own purse 
amongst the heap of gold, he gave it to tho 
old man exclaiming, “ Giacomo, this is on 
account. I shall see you again.” 
OPENING OF THE ERIE CANAL. 
Mr. Flagg, Ex-Comptroller, in an article \ i 
in Hunt’s Merchant’s Magazine, for Octo- i | 
ber, gives the following reminiscences of (| 
the opening of the Erie Canal—a “ Cele- 't |j 
bration ” in which our “ oldest inhabitants” ^ | 
participated: (I 
On the 26th day of October, 1825, eight 11! 
years and four months from the time of its ^ | 
commencement, the Eric Canal was com- ( 
pie ted. Extensive arrangements had been 
made at New York, Albany, and through 
the entire line of the canal to Buffalo, to 
celebrate this auspicious event. It was be¬ 
fore the present mode of communicating 
information with the rapidity of lightning 
had been made known to the world, and a 
telegraph was arranged for the occasion by 
stationing pieces of ordinance at suitable 
points along the whole line, so that a signal 
gun could be fired when the boats should ^ 
move from the lake into the canal at Buf- * 
falo, to be repeated from station to station. 
The plan was so well executed that in one 
hour an^ thirty minutes from the firing of 
the first gun at Buffalo, the echo was heard 
in New York; and a response was sent 
back through the same process. The ^ 
Canal Boat, Seneca Chief, with Gov. Clin- ^ 
ton, Lieut. Gov. Tallmadge, and various ^ 
committees on board, reached Albany on ( 
the 2d of November, and New York on I 
the 4th. “ Every city and village,” says \ 
Col. Stone in his account of the celcbnition, ^ 
“ had prepared its festival, and throughout ( 
the whole line, from the lake to the ocean, ) 
it was a voyage of triumph.” When the } 
fleet which came down the Hudson, joined '' 
by the reinforcements in new York, reach- 
Sandy Hook, Gov. Clinton proceeded to 
perform the ceremony of commingling the 
waters of the lakes with the ocean, by 
pouring a keg of that of Lake Erie into 
the Atlantic; upon which he'delivered the 
following address: 
“ This solemnity, at this place, on the 
first arrival of vessels from Lake Erie, is in- <! 
tended to indicate and commemorate the 
navigable communication which has been 
accomplished between our Mediterranean 
seas and the Atlantic Ocean, in about eight 
years, to the extent of more than four hun¬ 
dred and twenty-five miles, by the wisdom, 
public spirit, and energy of the people of 
the State of New York; and may the God 
of the heavens and the earth smile most 
propitiously on this work, and rendtjr it sub¬ 
servient to the best interests of the human 
FORTUNE’S WHIMS. 
Quite an interesting and affecting scene 
in the drama of life, occurred in our city 
yesterday. As it is an apt illustration of 
the numerous freaks Dame Fortune so of¬ 
ten plays upon us mortals, we give the facts 
of the occurrence for the information of our 
readers. Some four years since a gentle¬ 
man residing in our city, having a large 
family dependent upon him for support, 
became very much reduced in circumstan¬ 
ces from various unfortunate causes. In a 
moment of despair he enlisted as a soldier 
in Col. Stevenson’s Regiment of California 
Volunteers, leaving an only son, some eigh¬ 
teen years of age, to provide sustenance for 
a mother and seven children. 
For four long, tedious years did that boy 
toil manfully and successfully in support of 
the charge confided so unexpectedly to his 
hands. Not a single word had been heard 
of the absent parent until yesterday, when 
he returned from California, and in the act 
of searching out his (to him) lost family, 
he chanced to see the name of his son on 
a sign over the door of a store in Nassau 
street. We cannot pretend to describe the 
joy, the inexpressible happiness felt by that 
family on meeting with tin; returned father, 
who had brought with him from California 
the nice sum of seventy-five thousand dol¬ 
lars! the result of three years’ labor on the 
a’olden shores of the Pacific!— N. Y. Sun. 
THINGS THAT COST NOTHING. 
Sunrise and sunset cost us nothing, all 
glorious as they are. Colors that are not 
only to be seen in the heavens, and bright¬ 
ness beyond description, are profusely 
spread, and we have sight to behold them, 
pulses to throb, hearts to beat, minds to 
contemplate with wonder, thankfulness and 
joy. Rising and setting suns are common¬ 
place exhibitions, when, were there only one 
such exhibition to be witnessed in a cen¬ 
tury, multiplied millions, nay, almost half 
the population of the globe, would behold 
it with rapture. 
We give money and time and labor for 
many things of little value, but we never 
give either the one or the other for the 
cheerful sunbeam and the greatful shower; 
the gray of the morning, the twilight of 
evening, the broad blaze of noonday, and 
the deep silence and darkness of the mid¬ 
night hour! The poorest of the poor have 
these, and they have them for nothing! 
You, wlio with wives aiKtbabcs are blessed, 
TA}Ok out and see they're fed and dressed,— 
And save, for them, your kisses. 
OUR FATHERS. 
Old fashions, they say, come new every 
seven years; some how or other knee breech¬ 
es don’t come round any more. They say 
when Gov. Bowdoin reviewed the troops of 
Massachusetts, 1785, he was dressed in a 
gray wig, cocked hat, a white broadcloth 
coat and waistcoat, red small clothes, and 
black silk stockings. 
In 1782, Gov. Hancock received his 
guests in a red velvet cap, within which was 
one of fine linen, turned up over the edge 
of the velvet, one two or three inches. He 
wore a blue damask gown, lined with silk, 
and white satin embroidered waistcoat, black 
satin small clothes, white silk stockings and 
red morocco slippers. 
The Judges of the Supreme Court of 
Massachusetts, cis late as 1773, wore robesof 
scarlet, fiiced with black velvet; and in sum¬ 
mer, black silk gowns; gentlemen wore coats 
of every variety of color, generally the cape 
and collar of velvet, of a different color from 
the coat. 
in 1780, Gen. Washington arrived in 
New York from Mt Vernon to assume the 
duties of the Presidency. He was dressed 
in a full suit of Virginia homespun. On his 
arrival in New England, soon after, he wore 
the old continental uniform, except on the 
Sabbath, when he appeared in black. 
John Adams, when Vice President, wore 
a sword, and walked the streets with his 
hat under his arm. At his levees, in Phil¬ 
adelphia, President Washington was clad in 
black velvet, his hair powdered, and gath¬ 
ered behind in a silk bag; yellow gloves; 
knee and shoe buckles; he held in his hand 
a cocked hat, ornamented with a cockade, 
fringed about an inch deep with black feath¬ 
ers ; a long sword in a white scabbard, with 
a polished steel hilt, hung at his hip. 
Punctuality. — A committee of eight 
gentlemen had been appointed to meet at 
twelve o’clock. Seven of them were punc¬ 
tual ; but the eighth came bustling in with 
apologies for being a quarter of an hour be¬ 
hind the time. “ The time,” said he, 
“ passed away without my being aware of 
it. I had no idea of it being so late.” A 
Quaker present said, “PYiend, I am not 
sure that we should admit thy apology. It 
were a matter of regret that thou should’st 
have wasted thine own quarter of an hour, 
but there are seven besides thyself whose 
time thou hast also consumed, amounting 
in the whole to two hours, and one eighth 
of it only was thine own property.*’ 
Perseverance. —The greater the diffi¬ 
culty, the more glory in surmounting it; 
skillful pilots gain their reputation from 
storms and tempests. 
1 
