MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTITIAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
dBburational lE}iartrarat. 
BY’ L. WETHERELL. 
“WHAT SHALL I READ?" 
. The answer to be given to this question 
now is very different from that which might 
have been given in the days of Methuselah, 
whose age at his death lacked only about 
as many tens of a thousand years, as the 
age of man now does of a hundred. One- 
seventh of the period allotted to man’s ex¬ 
istence now, is gone before he can hardly 
begin to read—another seventh is passed 
In educating and disciplining the mind in 
order to prepare it for mental labor, as well 
as to fit it to discern between truth and 
falsehood—between what is only calculated 
to feed, nourish and strengthen the passions, 
and what is suited to strengthen, invigorate 
and purify the mind and make it. the mas¬ 
ter of the Appetites. Thus when man comes 
to be of full age to act for himself, more 
than two-sevenths of his “three-scorc-and- 
ten-years” are lived out, leaving only five- 
sevenths for all tltG remaining work of this 
life. And as far the greater majority have, 
during this brief period which now remains 
for them to live, to provide for all the wants 
of the body, any one can readily see, that 
time for reading will be exceedingly limited. 
Hence the great importance which attaches 
to the question What shall I read ?” 
From this brief survey of man’s existence 
all can see a good reason why such books 
as were enumerated in a former article 
should not be read even if there was no 
other objection than the want of time. But * 
when we have this reason coupled with the 
immoral tendencies which arc the legitimate 
fruits of such books, we have a most con¬ 
clusive and satisfactory answer concerning 
what should not be read. 
Tl may not be so easy to direct the inqui¬ 
rer to what should be read, or to what may 
be read with moral and menffil advancement 
and improvement. History, sacred and 
profane, biography, voyages and travels, a 
good family newspaper, with such books as 
treat of the trades or vocations in which 
those of manual employments are engaged, 
will furnish as extended a course of reading 
as the great majority of such readers will 
■ find time for. 
The history of our own country should 
be read and studied—and so should that 
also of England, our father-land. There 
are very few of those who engage in man¬ 
ual labor for life that can do more than this 
in the department of history; and there are 
none that should be satisfied with doing 
less. We say to the young, for whose im¬ 
provement we make these suggestions, that 
if you have not yet begun to read history, 
begin now before these long winter evenings 
shall have passed, with the history of Eng¬ 
land Procure and read Hume’s England, 
or Lingard’s, or the Pictorial. The latter 
contains a history of the people as well as 
of the kingdom; and is consequently a very 
interesting work. After an introductory 
sketch of the early history of the British 
Islands the work is divided into successive 
periode—the history of each forming a book. 
The books are sxibdivided into chapters, each 
being devoted to a distinct department of 
the entire period. 
The first contains a narrative of the Civil 
and Military transactions; the second a his¬ 
tory Of Heligion; the third is devoted to the 
history of the Constitution, Government and 
Laws.; the fourth a history of National In¬ 
dustry ; the fifth of Literature, Science and 
the Fine Arts; the sixth, of the Manners 
and Customs; and the seventh of the Social 
position and condition of the People. Af¬ 
ter having read some one of these works 
with care, the reader is then prepared to 
understa-nd our own Colonial history much 
better than he can before acquainting him¬ 
self with that pf the mother countr}^ 
The Library q( American Biography ed¬ 
ited by Jared Sparks, President of Hair 
■ yard UhiverBity/is a very x’aluable, entertain-; 
jpg and ’ instructive, series of books. It is. 
vdivideci mio two series—the first contains 
ten volumes—the second fifteen. No young 
^man with health, is too poor'to own these 
two series—nor can he reasonably say that^ 
he has not time to read - every volume of 
■'them—'hor can he read these volumes withM 
out being made a bettpr ;mah, whatever 
may be his vocation. 
' In the suggestions liOre 'made we' Would. 
..'hot be..padeirstQ6(]l .tip li,mi.t^ any one to, the 
course .of reading here pi'escribed.i ^ Some' 
who read this article may have read or 
heard of Thomas Dowse, the leather dres¬ 
ser of Cambridgeport, Mass. He has one 
of the choicest, as well as one of the most 
beautiful private libraries in this country. 
During the day, Thomas Dowse the me¬ 
chanic, may be seen “ with arms bare, hard 
at work”—or chatting with his neighbors. 
At night instead of running from house to 
house, from shop to shop, or from tavern to 
tavern, to pass the time in useless conversa¬ 
tion if nothing worse, he finds employment 
for his leisure hours in his library,,sutTOund- 
as it were, by the most extraordinary men 
that ever lived. Reading, with such a man 
as Mr. Dowse, becomes a pleasure which 
ceases only with his life. 
Let every parent aid and encourage his 
children to procure and read good books— 
strive to occupy the mind with what is good, 
and if successful, there will be no room for 
what is bad; for the truth of the philo¬ 
sophical maxim, that two bodies cannot 
occupy the same space at the same time, 
will apply to the mind. 
THE DESIRE OF KNOWLEDGE INNATE. 
The desire of knowledge—to know what 
is known—it may be for ifo higher purpose 
than simply to gratify a vain curiosity, is as 
universal in man as the capacity to make 
mental acquisitions. This desire like all 
the others which have their origin in man’s 
nature, may become a fruitful source of 
either happiness or misery. When rightly 
directed and properly restrained it tends to 
the storing of the mind with that kind of 
knowledge which will fit a man for what¬ 
ever station in life, he may be called to fill 
—and not only so—he will also be fitted to 
be a benefactor to bis race. 
On the right direction of this desire with¬ 
in us to know, depends our fortune for this 
life. If the child at the beginning of bis 
career, is instructed and trained by wise 
and judicious parents,—aided if need be, by 
teachers of like qualities—there is no doubt 
of bis future success. For, having been 
taught from infancy to manhood, that his 
highest happiness consisted not in having 
his own way, nor in doing his own will, but 
in doing that of his parents or guardians, 
whose duty it was to guide his footsteps into 
right paths—he is now disposed to obey 
Him whose laws guided, as well as gave au¬ 
thority to his parents. Such a man lives 
for a nobler purpose than the mere gratifi¬ 
cation. of his appetites and passions. 
POPULAR EDUCATION IN MICHIGAN. 
It is probable that no State in the .Union 
has in so short a time done so much for the 
cause of education as Michigan. She alone 
can boast of having established a system 
that will eventually meet all the intellectual 
and moral wants of her people. The free 
system is there carried out to its legitimate 
length. A child may start in the primary 
school, and go up through all the grades to 
the State University, which is as free as the 
school itself. Knowledge can be had for 
the mere asking. When the system, which 
is continually undergoing improvement, 
shall have been perfected, the Peninsular 
State will be without a peer in all that per¬ 
tains to popular education. 
Michigan entered the Union with a con¬ 
stitution making common school instruction 
a binding obligation on all future legisla¬ 
tures. The first legislation on this subject, 
that originating the present system, is there¬ 
fore coincident with the State’s admission. 
A Superintendent of Public Instruction is | 
now, and has been, the head of the system, j 
To him all school officers, and the Regents | 
of the University, make their reports, and 
he reports annually to the legislature all the 
information thus collected, and suggests 
such matters regarding his office and the 
institutions of education as may be deemed 
important. Formerly, that high officer was 
appointed by the legislature on the Govern¬ 
or’s nomination; now, he is elected by the- 
people. There have been, we think, five 
superintendents. The Rev. John D. Pierce- 
held the office five years, and made five an¬ 
nual reports. F. Sawyer, Jr., Esq., suc¬ 
ceeded him, .and held the office two years, 
making two annual reports. The Rev. Dr. 
Comstock was appointed in 1846, and after 
him came Mr. Mayhew, the author of this 
treatise on, Pppular Education. The Su- 
periQteudent, for the past year, and we be- 
,lieYe for the present, .is Mr. Shearman. The 
,^nn,u£d repqi:ts of these Educators embrace 
a, valuable aggregate of information on the 
I subject , of eomnaou sqhool instruction.— 
: They haye all, we. believe, been vigilant 
;inen in their .responsible department 
Mayhew was requested by the Leg-^ 
ielature.pf( iJ848-7;9, ,to.,pr,epare, for publica¬ 
tion, in book form, the various matters set 
iforthiin:his,public lectures, and such other 
/■matter os:heimight tliink necessary for the 
.further. improvement of/ the State, system. 
The result is a volume of 460 pages, in 
which the author tells us lie has endeavor¬ 
ed so to present the subject of popular ed¬ 
ucation, which should have reference to the 
whole man —the body, the mind, and the 
heart—and so to unfold its nature, advan¬ 
tages, and claims, as to make it every where 
acceptable. The book, we regret to say, is 
not got up by the publishers with their 
usual care, presenting only on the outside, 
in point of execution, a favorable impression 
to the reader. There are typographical 
faults in it scarcely excusable. It seems to 
have been hurriedly thrown off without 
time for careful revision. Nor does the 
work itself come up to our expectations.— 
The author, in drawing so freely from oth¬ 
ers, has made too much a book of quota¬ 
tions, many of them needlessly long, to do 
himself justice. If he had relied more up¬ 
on his own thoughts, and given his research¬ 
es more the brevity and compactness of 
original deduction, he would have accom¬ 
plished more in less space. 
This book, in truth, appears to have been 
prepared, rather to comply with a very 
complimentary, but troublesome request of 
the legislature, than to advance the great 
cause of education by thoroughly matured 
and well arranged views. We regret this, 
and feel disappointed, because we know 
that Mr. Mayhew is capable of giving the 
world something better. Yet, even with 
these faults, the book is a valuable acquisi¬ 
tion to the Educator’s library. It embod¬ 
ies a large amount of fact, and will be, 
wdthout doubt, a very acceptable compend 
for those who seek necessary information on 
educational matters.— Watchman d' Ref. 
PUNCTUATION, &c. 
We find the following pertinent hints, 
particulary important to all who would write 
for the newspapers, in the Massachusetts 
Ploughman: 
Long and fatiguing rules have been laid 
down in spelling books to teach the art of 
punctuation—a Science we believe some 
of the writers call it. Well, they have 
made so much of this science that there is 
a doubt in many minds whether their nu¬ 
merous and complicated rules have not done 
more harm than good—as many of their 
English grammar rules evidently have. 
We dwell particularly on this point be¬ 
cause we find many writers who in despair 
of understanding the rules of pointing, neg¬ 
lect them wholly. They begin* at the top 
of a sheet and write to the bottom without 
coming to a single stop, or giving a reader 
any hint when he may pause to take a lit¬ 
tle breath. 
Plain good sense is sufliciant to reach any 
one who can make a mark with a pen that 
stops ought to be made in all discourses of 
considerable length. Skillful writers make 
frequent pauses—the principal of these are 
commas and periods. A comma (,) is used 
when the pause is a slight one. A period 
(.) is used at the end of a sentence to mark 
that the writer has come to a full stop. 
It is not prudent for an inexperienced 
writer to make very long sentences. Young 
writers frequently commit this error, and 
the sense of what they write is often ob¬ 
scure. Short sentenced are more easily read 
and understood. We often imagine that 
writers wholly neglect to make stops, lest 
they may be thought guilty of violating cer¬ 
tain technical rules concerning them. Let 
all such recollect that every writer has a 
right to make stops or pauses just where 
he pleases—and that he will always oblige 
his readers by making them frequently. 
There is another rule* that printers al¬ 
ways require to be observed if you wish to 
have your communication divided off into sec¬ 
tions. You should not only make a-period (.) 
you should commence the first line of a new 
section at a little distance from the left hand 
margin of the paper. When you do this 
the printer will do the same, and the read¬ 
er will find relief in seeing distinct para¬ 
graphs containing perhaps a dozen or twenty 
lines. It is exceedingly tiresome to read a 
whole page, even when there are periods or 
full stops made, if there is no division into 
sections—that is,, if there is a mass of lines 
of equal length and no vacancy left to rest 
on or to start from on a distinct part of the 
subject. 
Now these rules ought to be learned in 
our common schools, but they will not be 
learned to any profit unless the scholar is 
made to apply them in practice. They are 
like the rules of grammar—of no kind of 
use unless they are understood—and they 
are seldom understood unless they are im¬ 
mediately. put in practice under the eye of 
the teacher. 
' Roval Saying. —Alphonsus, surnamed 
the Wise, king of Aragon, used to say, 
“ That among so many things as are by 
men possessed or pursued in the course of 
their lives, all the rest are baubles, besides 
old wood to burn, old wine to drink, old 
friends to converse with, and old books to 
read.” 
Moderation —Fuller beautifully says of 
moderation, that “it is the silken string run¬ 
ning through the pearl chain of all virtues.” 
There is a subduing power in kindness. 
3Carif0' IffiartniEirt. 
For the Rural Nevv-Y’orker. 
THE SOUVENIR. 
rv£ looked again tJiis morn. 
Upon the treasured relic of our love, 
One Uiat in happy girlhood’s fondest hours 
I gave thee for a talisman, a key 
Ky which to look into our hearts and read 
Tlicir liiddeii tiioughts. 
And, thou hast fondly kept 
This emblem, spotless as our love has been. 
Its fair white leaves have not a stain to mar 
Their perfect purity — the golden tress 
Reposing in its silken folds, is bright 
As when with beating heart I bound it here. 
Its azure words breatlie music just as fond 
Upon my heart, as when I ’broidered them 
One atitumn eve — my first love-gift for thee. 
My heart was light then — light aiid full of joy. 
Now it is calmer but it still flows on. 
And like the stream grows deeper as it flows. 
As thou hast kept this girlish gift of mine 
'J’hus free from stain, so keep our wedded love. 
Nor let distrust breathe on its snow-white leaves 
And blot tlicir sacred purity — for doubts 
Are like corroding poison to the heart. 
That feeds on love alone, and will not rest. 
Till every vestige of its former truth. 
And trustfulness are gone. 
Rovalto.n, N. Y"., lidO. S\lvia. 
SHAKSPEARE’S MIRROR FOR WOMEN. 
BY MARY COWDEN CLARKE. 
As in the tall glass called a Pysche, a 
lady gains a full-length view of herself, so 
that no point of person or dress may be left 
disregarded, so, in Shakspeare’s mirror, a 
woman may obtain a psychological reflex of 
her nature that may aid her to its spotless 
array, and to the utmost perfection in adorn¬ 
ment of which it is susceptible. She may. 
learn how to preserve its intrinsic graces of 
purity and innocence, at the same time that 
she is instructed how to deck it with be¬ 
coming ornament of accomplishment and 
refining culture. She may be taught to 
perceive how native charms are heightened 
by suavity ,of demeanor; how a fine under¬ 
standing and a capacious mind are set off 
by modest bearing; how external beauty is 
enhanced by sweet manners and cheerful 
ease; how intellect and good sense consort 
with placability, forbearance, and affection¬ 
ate submission; how gaiety of heart and the 
gift of wit are tempered with gentleness; 
how highest dignity shows itself most truly 
in courtesy, generosity, charity, kindliness. 
From the lady of the highest rank, to the 
humblest among women—from her who is 
“ crowned the most imperial monarch” to 
her who “ does the meanest chores,” we all 
may read in his respective delineations our 
feminine resemblance. 
From the virtuous majesty of a Hermione 
or a Katherine of Arragon, down to the 
homely coarseness of au Audrey or a Mopsa, 
each essentially bears the generic stamp of 
woman. His sceptred queens, bis princes¬ 
ses, his duchesses, his gentlewomen, his 
yeomen’s wives, his young maidens, his serv¬ 
ing-damsels, his country wenches, his host¬ 
esses ; his most delicate lady, his most blush¬ 
ing girl, his most reserved vestal, his arrant- 
est coquette, his wildest-spirited sparkler, 
his sedatest thinker, his’ most loving and 
loveable female impersonation, or his vilest 
and most odious one, however infinitely they 
may vary, have all one feature in common 
—they are pre-ernin#ntly womanly in all 
they do and say. The wit of Rosalind and 
Beatrice, the ambition of Lady Macbeth, the 
conjugal faith of Imogen, the wickedness of 
Goneril and Regan, the constancy of Hele¬ 
na, the reticence of Cordelia, the intellect 
of Portia, the wiles of Cleopatra, the inno¬ 
cence of Miranda, the charm of Viola, the 
gentleness of Desdemona, the sanctity and 
moral purity of Isabella, the anguish of 
Constance, the maternity of Volumnia, the 
shrewishness of Katharine, the affectionate 
Celia, the flippancy of Lucetta, tho passion¬ 
ate love of Juliet, the sprightliness of Neris- 
sa, the insanity of Ophelia, are all as mark¬ 
edly contrasted as day and night; but they 
are all in themselves and in their action and 
circumstance true to the spirit of woman¬ 
kind. 
The Company of Women.— He cannot 
be an unhappy man who has the love and 
smiles of a woman to accompany him in 
every department of life. The world may 
look sad and cheerless without, enemies may 
gather in his path, but when he returns to 
the fire-side and sees the tender love of 
woman, he forgets his cares and troubles, 
and is a comparatively happy man. He is 
not prepared for the journey of life who is 
without a companion, who will forsake him 
in no emergency—who will divide his sor¬ 
rows—increase his joys—lift the veil from 
his heart, and throw sunshine amid the 
darkest scenes. No man can be miserable 
who has such a companion, be he ever so 
poor, despised, and trodden upon by the 
world. 
Domestic Happiness. —Nothing hinders 
the constant agreement of people who live 
together, but mere vanity; a secret insist¬ 
ing upon what they think their dignity or 
merit, and inward expectation of such an 
over-measure of deference and regard, as 
answers to their own extravagant false scale, 
and which nobody Can ^ay, because none 
but themselves can tell readily to what pitch 
it amounts.—Pope. 
luiiiiai} jReaMng. 
“JESUS WEPT.” 
BY ANNIE JOn.NSON. 
O, NOT the memory of His wondrous deed 
?/Vithin its holiest aiirine my heart hatii kept. 
For me no dearer record lies within 
This sacred books of books, than “Jesus wept! " 
He « ept for liuman grief. He wept with her, 
The desolate mourner at tlie sepulciire! 
O, how my soul, in love and sorrow, cried 
To Him, eartli’s humblest and its holiest One! 
^ How would it otTer for a sacrifice 
A broken heart those blessed words have won! 
How dotli it long of all its love to tell 
For Him whose tears for eartlily sorrow fell! 
And most it blessetli Him whene’er are shed 
Grief’s bitterest tears — eor He wept o’er the dead! 
[Boston Rambler.] 
IGNORANCE BLISS, 
Were the time of our death foreseen, 
what a -melancholy character would it im¬ 
part to the pursuits and occupations of the 
human race! If every man saw the mo¬ 
ment of his death continually before him, 
how would his thoughts be fixed to the fatal 
spot,' and, upon its near approach, the con¬ 
sideration of it would probably absorb eve¬ 
ry other. With respect to our fellow-crea¬ 
tures, how would it poison the springs of 
enjoyment, were parents and children, bus-' 
bands and wives, brothers and sisters, able 
to calculate with certainty the period of 
each other’s lives! We should seem to be 
walking among the victims of death—the 
scenes, of human existence would lose all 
cheerfulness, animation, and beauty. 
The interests of society would also sus¬ 
tain more serious injury. Many great and 
noble enterprises would never have been 
begun, could persons who, in the hope of 
life, engaged in them, have foreseen that, 
before they could be concluded, they them¬ 
selves would be snatched away by the baud 
of death. Many discoveries, by which 
great benefit has been conferred on the 
world, would not have been elicited. Few 
efforts probably would be made to attain 
any object, the consequences of which ter¬ 
minate with the life of the party, if he fore¬ 
saw that they would be intercepted by death. 
Who would venture to engage in any lu¬ 
crative employment, if he certainly knew 
that the benefit would not be even partially 
‘realized during the term of bis mortal ex¬ 
istence ? But happily for mankind, events 
are concealed—duties only are made known, 
—R. Hall. 
DUTIES TO THE DEPARTED, 
A FALSE, sad notion has injured many, 
that we owe it to departed friends to die to 
those who remain, to die to our race, to feed 
on dark pictures of life, to reject the bles¬ 
sings which our kind Father has strewed in 
our path, because some have been taken 
from us. It ought to be the influence of 
bereavement—of the banishing loved ones 
from our sight, to give us more reverent and 
quickening conception of the spiritual nature 
of the undying soul, of that futurity through 
which our faculties and affections are to ex¬ 
pand into diviner life and felicity, and un¬ 
der this hope we should desire to enter a 
nobler field of action now the departed have 
gone,, to see, to love and serve the infinite 
Father with a new fervor and elevation of 
spirit—and we should strive to sympathize 
with them, to be joined with them by par¬ 
ticipation in their progress. 
We are apt to feel as if nothing we could 
do on earth bears a relation to what the 
good are doing in a higher world; but it is 
not so. Heaven and earth are not so far 
apart. Every disinterested act, every sac¬ 
rifice to duty, every exertion for “one of the. 
least of Christ’s brethren,” every new in¬ 
sight into God’s works, every new impulse 
given to the love of truth and goodness, as¬ 
sociates us with the departed, bring-s us 
nearer to them, and is as truly heavenly as 
if we were acting not on earth but in hea¬ 
ven. These are common truths, but we do 
not feel them. The spiritual tie between 
us and the departed is not felt as it should 
be. Our union with them daily grows 
stronger, if we daily make progress in what 
they are growing in.— Channing. 
SOLITUDE. 
An hour of solitude passed in sincere 'and 
earnest prayer, or the conflict with, and con¬ 
quest over, a single passion, or “subtle bo¬ 
som sin,” Avill teach us more of thought, 
will more effectually awaken the faculty^ 
and form the habit of reflection than a 
year’s study in the schools without them. 
A reflecting mind is not a flower that 
grows wild, or comes up of its own accord. 
The difficulty is indeed greater than many, 
who mistake quick recollection for thought, 
are disposed to admit; but how much less 
than it would be, had we not been born 
and bred in a Christian and Protestant land, 
very few of us are sufficiently aware. Truly 
^ may we, and thankfully ought we, to ex¬ 
claim with the Psalmist: “ The entrance of 
' thy words giveth light; giveth understand¬ 
ing even to the simple.”— Coleridge's Aids 
to Reflection, 
Men are always murmuring at the hard¬ 
ships of this world, yet how they dread to 
' leave it. 
