MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAAILLY JOURNAL. 
Mmllmi] Ein^t ®i0gra|3[n|. 
) DECEMBER. 
) -- 
J [For the Rural New-Y'orker.] 
. Winter is here—dreary, desolate wm- 
I ter. Hidden are all sights of Nature’s 
! pleasantness—hushed are all sounds of her 
! gushing gladness. The verdancy of spring, 
! the bloom of summer, the golden harvest 
I fields of autumn have disappeared, and we 
' see but barrenness and gloom. The gush¬ 
ing rills that danced to their own glad mu¬ 
sic through green meadows—the blithe 
birds that sung their sweet songs amid the 
flowers—the gentle winds that murmured 
through the forest leaves, and tossed the 
fair curls of childhood are hushed, and are 
heard no more. The rills are frozen, and 
the meadows hidden beneath the snow— 
the birds are gone, and the flowers among 
which they sung have faded; and, instead of 
‘sighing zephyrs, we hear the rude blasts of 
winter shaking the leafless trees, and sting¬ 
ing with cold all who venture within its in¬ 
fluence. 
Yet stern as winter appears at first sight, 
there are gleams of bright beauty amid its 
ruggedness. To nature, after the busier 
seasons, it comes as a period of repose, and 
to Nature’s children it seemeth even so.— 
It has an air of quiet to which the other 
seasons are strangers. The trusting hand 
in spring scatters the seed upon the bosom 
of the earth—summer and autumn are 
spent in gathering the rich bounties re¬ 
turned, but in winter we set down to enjoy 
the rich banquet spread before us. Then, 
too, we gather around the fireside. The 
bonds of brotherhood are strengthened, 
and the pleasures of social life enjoyed and 
appreciated. 
“The lengthened eve is full of fireside joys, 
And deathless linking of warm heart to heart,” 
And if we have the right spirit actuating 
us we feel that even the dreariness of win¬ 
ter ministers to our happiness. 
To one who desires to cultivate every 
faculty of the mind, winter is a genial sea¬ 
son. It is ever difficult so to chain the at- 
teiltion that it be not attracted by passing 
events ; but now, there are comparatively 
few disturbing influences. The rich trea¬ 
sures of thoughtful wisdom hoarded in 
books, c^n be examined and made our owji, 
and the acquisition of such wealth deprives 
no one else of the same enjoyment. 
Let not those who enjoy the comforts of 
life, forget the poor and infirm, who are 
illy prepared for the inclemencies of the 
season. Help them—-their gratitude will 
add a rich ingredient to your own cup of 
blessing. Help them, and you will render 
a small return to Him who has crowned 
your own lot with plenty. Help them—it 
is a duty you owe to yourselves, your 
neighbor, and to yotir common Benefactor. 
j. n. B. 
AFFECTION. 
We sometimes meet with men who seem 
to think that any indulgence in an affection¬ 
ate feeling is a weakness. They will re¬ 
turn from a journey and greet their families 
with a distant dignity, and move among 
their children with the cold and lofty splen¬ 
dor of an iceberg, surrounded by its broken 
fragments. There is hardly a more unnat¬ 
ural sight on earth than one of those fami¬ 
lies without a heart. A father had better 
extinguish a boy’s eyes than take away his 
heart. Who that has experienced the joys 
of friendship, and values sympathy and af¬ 
fection, would not rather lose all that is 
beautiful in nature’s scenery, than be rob¬ 
bed of the hidden treasure of his heart ? 
cherish, then, your heart’s best affections. 
Indulge in the warm and gushing and in¬ 
spiring emotions of filial, parental and fra¬ 
ternal love. Think it not a weakness. God 
is love—love God, everybody, and every¬ 
thing that is lovely. Teach your children 
to love; to love the rose, the robin; to love 
their God. Let it be the studied object of 
their domestic culture to give them warm 
hearts, ardent affections. Bind your whole 
family together by these strong cords.— 
You cannot make them too strong.’ 
A BfeAUTIFULLY EXPRESSED TiIOUGUT.- 
It is difficult to conceive anything more 
beautiful than the reply given by one in af¬ 
fliction, when he was asked how he boro it 
so well. “ It lightens the stroke,” said he, 
“ to draw nearer Him who handles the rod.” 
Every element of success is in its own 
place and degree, equally important, but the 
very starting point is the adjustment of the 
reformer to his work, and the next after 
that is the adjustment .of his work to those 
conditions of the times which he seeks to 
influence. 
NEVER DESPAIR. 
Ma.jor Noah, of the New York Sunday 
Times, remarks: 
“Never despair,” says the millionaire, but¬ 
toning up his coat pockets, and addressing 
a shivering mendicant. “Never despair,” 
says the prosperous banker through his but¬ 
tery cheeks, to a ruined, bankrupt merchant. 
“ Never despair,” says the flourishing man 
to his much less fortunate neighbor. It is a 
, golden battle-cry in the struggle with life; 
but while all appreciate it, very few adopt 
it. “ I will never despair,” is a declaration 
easier made than verified. 
We remember one instance of two unfor¬ 
tunates kicking care and despondency to 
their progenitor, the evil one, and doing so 
with success. 
Two decayed young men of spirit, who 
had been chased into a gallop by want, all 
the way from the Mississippi to the Hudson 
river, arrived in New York one rainy Sun¬ 
day morning in December. They were then 
landing from a boat in which they had been 
working their passage, and they sat down 
upon the end of the wharf 
“ Well, what shall we do for a lodging,” 
inquired one of them. 
“Don’t know—do you?” 
“ No, let’s take a walk.” 
Shabby and dirty, they strolled along 
Broadway, until they reached a mean look¬ 
ing drinking shop—here they entered, im¬ 
bibed their last sixpence in beer and com¬ 
menced reading the papers. 
“ Oh,” exclaimed one, as his eye glanced 
over the advertisements, “ twenty-five dol¬ 
lars are offered for the best New Year’s ad¬ 
dress for the carrier of this paper—all com¬ 
petitors are to hand in their effusions by to¬ 
morrow evening.” 
“Well,” said the other. 
“ I’ll try for the prize.” 
“ You?” 
“ Even 1. Landlord, can you lend me a 
few sheets of paper, pen and ink ?” 
The articles were furnished, and the scriv¬ 
ener worked in silence four long hours, at 
the end of which he shouted— 
“ It’s done.” 
“ Read it,” said his companion. 
The matter was read and approved. It 
was carried to the office. The couple walk¬ 
ed the streets all that night, and a greater 
portion of the next day, until the time of the 
decision aft’ecting the award of the prize. 
The needy man entered the sanctum of 
the great committee, and emerged into the 
street the possessor of twenty-five dollars.— 
Twenty were saved, and five were devoted 
to the payment of a week’s very poor board 
—the balance was invested in a very hum¬ 
ble business, on a^lender scale. It is now. 
seven years since the events we have nar¬ 
rated occurred, and now the firm is as well 
known-as can be. . 
A despairing man is unfit for social inter¬ 
course with the world. He cannot over¬ 
throw the difficulties, nor combat dangers, 
“ which retreat when boldly they are con¬ 
fronted.” 
Y' hen reverse engenders despair, and be¬ 
gets the gnawing of despondency, the vic¬ 
tim is fit for criminal depredations or suicide. 
Every one’s motto should be—if constitu¬ 
tional peculiarities will permit — “ never 
despair.” 
SECRET OF GOOD WRITING, 
The grand secret of good writing seems 
to lie in this simple maxim —Be sure you 
have an idea before you attempt to express 
it. If you clearly comprehend in your own 
mind ^vhat you wish to communicate, na¬ 
ture and reason together, with a little prac¬ 
tice, will most certainly teach you how to 
say it, and how to say it in an appropriate 
manner. 
A single idea is fully sufficient for one 
mind to manage at one time. And it may 
be added that if the idea is one of much 
importance, it would be most dignified by 
being honored with a private carriage. 
Divide and conquer is a valuable rule in. 
literary, as well as in military tactics. The 
more extensive the theme which the writer 
proposes to himself to discuss, the less, usu¬ 
ally, he has to say upon it. Such subjects 
can be mastered with ease only by descend¬ 
ing from generals to particulars, and treat¬ 
ing of the topics in their individual parts. 
There is nothing more popular, especial¬ 
ly with young writers, than brilliancy of 
style. This manner of writing is certainly 
excellent in its proper place, but there are 
many topics which do not require this qual¬ 
ity, and many indeed which are much in¬ 
jured by it. The language of every dis¬ 
sertation should be subservient to the tho’t, 
and should be that which is best calculated 
to express the thought in the happiest man¬ 
ner. 
As the rays of the sun will not enkindle 
a blaze unless brought to a focus, so the 
thoughts of a writer will not set the hearts 
of his readers on fire unless all are made to 
converge to a single point. 
Some writers seem unable ever to ex¬ 
press themselves in a cool, calm, rational 
manner on any subject. With them every 
virtue is god-like, every fault a felony, every 
breeze a tempest, and ever}' molehill a 
mountain. They appear to think their man¬ 
ner of writing, sublimity; but their judi¬ 
cious readers (if they have any such) call 
it turgidity and absurdity. 
LOUIS NAPOLEON. 
PRESIDENT OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC. 
The influence yet exerted by the name 
of Napoleon upon the hearts and feelings 
of the French people was strikingly exem¬ 
plified by the three million majority, over 
all competitors, as President of France, given 
to an obscure individual, whose greatest 
claim to notoriety was that he was a nephew 
of the late Emperor. This -result, however, 
was in part effected by the advocates of a 
restoration, who from his known pretender- 
ship, and hair-brained efforts to advance it, 
thought he could be used as a stepping 
stone to the attainment of their object. 
Louis Napoleon”, born in 1808, is the 
second son of Louis Napoleon, (King of 
Holland, and brother to the Emperor,) by 
Hortense, the daughter of Josephine.— 
The eldest son died in Switzerland, and the 
subject of the present sketch was first heard 
of publicly in 1836, when he made an at¬ 
tempt at Strasburg, to place himself upon 
the throne of Louis Philippe. This con¬ 
spiracy, encouraged by disaffection in the 
army, and their reverence for the name of 
the Emperor, would probably have been 
attended with some p'artial success, if his 
non-resemblance to Napoleon, had not 
caused him to be suspected as an impostor, 
and^hence suffered by the doubting soldiery 
to be arrested by the officers of the Govern¬ 
ment. 
This revolt was thus crushed in the bud, 
and its author leniently permitted to ship to 
America on condition that he should not 
return to Europe. He assured the late 
JOHN ADAMS. 
The following interesting extract is from 
John Adams’ diary, soon to be published 
by Little & Brown, of Boston, giving an ac¬ 
count of his first appearance in Faneuil 
Hall, in 1'7'70: 
“ I had never been at a Boston town 
meeting, and was not at this until messen¬ 
gers were sent to inform me that I was 
chosen. [Representative of Boston.] I 
went down to Faneuil Hall, and in a few 
words expressive of my sense of the diffi¬ 
culty and danger of the times, of the im¬ 
portance of the trust, and of my own insuf¬ 
ficiency to fulfill the expectations of the peo¬ 
ple, I accepted the choice. Many congrat¬ 
ulations were offered, which I received civ¬ 
illy, but they gave no joy to me. I consid¬ 
ered the step as a devotion of my family to 
ruin, and myself to death ; for I could ^ 
scarce perceive a possibility that I should 
ever go through the thorns and leap all the 
precipices before me, and escape with my life. 
“ At this time I had more business at 
the bar than any man in the province. My 
health was feeble; I was throwing away as j 
bright prospects as any man ever had be-1 
fore him, and I had devoted myself to end¬ 
less labor and anxiety, if not to infamy and 
to death, and that for nothing, except what 
indeed was and ought to be in all, a sense i 
of duty. In the evening I expressed to 
Mrs. Adams all my apprehensions. That 
excellent lady, who has always encouraged 
me, burst into a flood of tears, but said she 
w'as very sensible of all the danger to her 
and to our children, as well as to me, but 
she thought I had done as I ought; she 
w'as very willing to share in all that was to 
come, and to place her trust in Providence.” 
king of “his eternal gratitude,” and set 
about conspiring liis overthrow. 
The pretext for the second attempt in 
1840, at Bolougne, was the enthusiasm at¬ 
tending the arrival in France of the remains 
of the Emperor. This generous homage on 
the part of Louis Philippe would have dis¬ 
armed an honorable enemy, and the con¬ 
duct of Louis Napoleon in seeking to 
advance himself by it, shows the character 
of the principles by which he allows himself 
to be actuated. This too, was a failure, and 
resulted in his rigorous imprisonment at 
the fortress of Ham, whence after five 
years of confinement, he effected his escape- 
Yet, notwithstanding all this, there are 
writers who represent him as an educated, 
well-informed man, of originative and re¬ 
flective talent—but the fact that one has 
the title of a Prince, and has made some 
noise in the world, will suffice to magnify 
mediocrity into genius. Yet we cannot 
deny him a certain earnestness of purpose, 
and an enthusiasm of pursuit which has 
given him success, and accounts for the 
divided opinions which are entertained of his 
character and abilities. 
His present position is too well understood 
to need comment By a large majority of 
the people he is more detested than he was 
before idolized. Yet, skillful in all the 
chicanery of diplomacy,he has gained power 
that may yet lead to his taking the throne 
of France—which even now can be con¬ 
sidered a Republic but in name. 
TEMPERANCE. 
Few young ladies seem to appreciate the 
powerful influence they exert, or might ex¬ 
ert, on the young men of our land, in favor 
of observing strictly the rules of sobriety and 
temperance in their habits; on the other 
hand, by frequent and free association with 
young men of this stamp, they countenance 
gross intemperance and appetites, that, ere 
they leave their victim, he finds a di'unk- 
ard’s grave. 
Let every young lady pleasantly, but 
pointedly and firmly, reject the company of 
every young gentleman who indulges in the 
use of any intoxicating liquors. Let it be 
well and fully known throughout the length 
and breadth of the land, that no young 
gentleman is counted worthy of your friend¬ 
ship or esteem, who makes use of alcoholic 
drink, and millions might be saved from 
drunkards’ graves, who may be worthy to 
fill the most important offices in State or 
Nation. For it is by no means an inferior 
portion of our young men who become thus 
addicted to intemperance and its kindred 
lusts. But some of the greatest minds, the 
kindest hearts, the finest and most affection¬ 
ate, are among its foremost victims. Will 
you then encourage them onward by your 
smiles and caresses, or will you give a firm 
and decided “veto” to intemperate habits, 
and thus prove yourselves benefactresses of 
vour race ? 
_ _ I 
Originality.— To mind the inside of a ! 
book is to entertain one’s self with the forced 
product of another man’s brain. Now, I 
think, a man of quality and breeding may 
be much amused by the natural sprouts of 
his own.— The Relapse. 
Laiiits’ lE|iartramt. 
For the Rural New-Yorker.- 
OUR OLD OAK. 
Old oak, you shiver this wintry morn— 
Your foliage gone, your branches torn ; 
King Boreeis was out last night, I ween, 
And robbed our oak of its vesture green. 
Right angry was he-:-my casement shook— 
You groaned and sighed 'neath his mighty stroke. 
While I ne’er once thought, old friend, that he 
Would dare to molest, or trouble thee. 
Yet he Surely did, for here you stand. 
Moaning the might of his heavy hand. 
Which hath- shattered and torn thy limbs away , 
Yet oak, cheer up! lookup! I pray. 
Old oak, thy leaves were of brightest green. 
Majestic thou wert in thy regal sheen— 
I have mused and dreamed, oh ! many a time 
’Neath thy sheltering shade, dear friend of mine. 
Have gazed far up through thy leafy dome 
Through the boundless space of worlds unknown, 
'Till my brain grew wild at the vision fair 
That Hope’s bright finger had penciled there, 
And then I have thought that thou, old tree. 
Partook in part in my revery ;— 
’Twas fancy perhaps, yet I’ll bear in mind 
How friendly thou wert, how good, how kind. 
It may soften thy grief to know there’s one 
Who loves thee, despite all thy foes have done. 
Who will never forget thee. Ah! old tree 
It is more than many will do for me. 
Irondequoit, N. Y., Dec. 1850. r. m. a. 
LETTER TO A YOUNG WIFE, 
My Dear Lizzie.— I have just received 
the pleasing intelligence of your marriage 
with one so worthy of your trust and affec¬ 
tion. Of course, you are very happy; for 
there is no more perfect happiness for a 
young and loving woman than to centre her 
heart’s best feelings upon one being, to feel 
her destiny bound up in his, to become, as 
it were, a very part of his life. Perhaps, at 
such a time, my dear girl, it may seem un¬ 
kind to throw the least shadow over the 
bright sky of your happiness; but I cannot 
refrain from giving you some’ little advice 
now, at the outset of your new life. 
You are looking forward—are you not? 
—with perfect confidence to the future.— 
You think that the sea upon which you are 
launched, will ever remain calm and un¬ 
troubled as now; that you will go on for¬ 
ever thus, joyous and happy—thus, free 
from care and sorrow; but. Oh, remember, 
there is no sunshine that is not clouded over 
sometimes; no stream so smooth as to be 
always undisturbed. Then, make up your 
mind to have cares, perplexities, and trials, 
such as have never troubled you before; 
and be prepared to meet them. 
As yet, you are to your husband the 
same perfect being that you were before 
marriage, free from all that is wrong, your 
follies even regarded as delightful. You 
are now placed upon a pedestal—a very 
goddess; but, believe me, you must soon 
descend to take your place among mortals, 
and well for you if you can do it gracefully. 
Believe me, dearest, I have no wish to sad¬ 
den your spirit, only to prepare it for the 
trials which must come to perplex it 
You must learn to have your faults com¬ 
mented upon, one by one, and yet be meek 
and patient under reproach. You must 
learn to have those saying-s which you have 
heard praised as witticisms, regarded as 
I mere nonsense. You must learn to yield 
even when you seem to be in the right; to 
give up your will even when your husband 
seems obstinate and unreasonable; to be 
chided when you expected praise, and have 
your utmost endeavors to do rightly regard¬ 
ed as mere duties. But, be not cast down 
by this dark side of the picture. You will 
be happier, in spite of all these trials, than 
you have ever been, if you only resolve to 
be firm in the path of duty; tp strive to do 
well always; to return a kind answer for a 
harsh word, and, above all, to control your 
temper. There may be times when this 
may seem impossible; but always remember 
that one angry word provokes another, and 
that thus the beautiful gem of wedded af¬ 
fection is tarnished, until what seemed to be 
the purest gold is found only gilded brass. 
Amiability is the most necessary of all vir¬ 
tues in a wife, and perhaps the most difficult 
of all others to retain. 
Pray frequently for a meek, forbearing 
spirit; cherish your kindly impulses, arid 
leave the rest to your Father in Heaven. 
I shall, if you like, write you again upon 
this subject You know I have beerw wed¬ 
ded long enough to have have had some lit- 
tle^experience, and if it can benefit you, you 
are welcome to it 
Adieu for a while. Ever your friend, 
Carrie Merton. 
Very Good and Very Truk.— At the 
“Woman’s Rights Convention,” Mrs. Rose of 
New York, alluded to our Pilgrim Fathers, 
and the pride and reverence with which 
they were often referred to. But said she 
“Who has heard of the Pilgrim Mothers? 
Did they not endure as many perils, and 
encounter as many hardships, and do as 
much to form and fashion the institutions of 
New-England, as the Pilgrim Fathers?— 
Yet they are hardly remembered.” 
The golden wand of wealth should be 
gilded by the hand of elegance. 
