MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL, 
while others have sprung from their dust, 
and like their predecessors, rose and fell, and 
yielded to others still. 
We may study the mutability of Human 
and services of General Washington are 
the property of his country and the world. 
At the conclusion of the war he resigned 
his commission, and refused to receive any 
compensation whatever for his military ser- 
s * m ply accepting the reimbursement 
of his actual expenses. 
In 178/, Washington was appointed a 
delegate to the National Convention in 
[For the Rural New-Yorker.J 
PASSING AWAY. 
Save God, the Soul and the Future there 
is nothing eternal, for it is an immutable 
law of the Great Jehovah that all things 
shall “Pass away." Daily, we read this fact 
in Nature's volume. Our eyes rest not 
upon any thing that has permanency of 
duration. The animal, whether its home be 
in the air, on the earth, or in the water, en¬ 
joys its brief existence in filling its space in 
the plan of Creation, and then passes away. 
Spring comes. Vegetation starts into 
beauteous life. The tender leaves appear, 
and perfumed flowers sparkle with match¬ 
less beauty in their midst, whilst the cheer¬ 
ful birds carol their glad songs and build 
their wonderful nests 
of Greece and of Rome. But if unsatisfied, 
we should ask of Time for a spirit from the 
tombs; the owl, the bat, the serpent, or the 
jackal would give the answer, for they are 
lords in those deserted courts. If still want¬ 
ing more evidence, we may excavate the 
lava covered cities of Herculaneum and 
Pompeii—mark the fate of Gomorrah and 
her sisters of the plain—explore the burn¬ 
ing sands of Africa for Ethiopia’s buried 
glory, and if wearied in the search, sit by 
the pyramids of Egypt and muse upon the 
history of their long forgotten authors. 
But the law of “Passin: 
ig away" is one of 
the Great Creator’s laws and is therefore 
unquestionably “very good." It is an 
element of motion, a besom that sweeps 
away error and evil, and one of the funda¬ 
mental doctrines of Progress. And shall 
we reap from its contemplation no lasting 
good? 
It is a truth which will bear repeating, 
that man is possessed of a soul, to the cul¬ 
tivation of which all his efforts should tend. 
Placed by his Maker as the crowning work 
of C reation, the objects that surround him, 
should incite him to a course of unwearied 
improvement The evanescence of earthly 
things should teach him that the mere grati¬ 
fication of his physical wants is not what is 
demanded by his true destiny. He should 
among the boughs. 
Spring goes, and Summer comes. The 
foliage has a deeper, more sober hue. The 
birds sing less frequently. Their nests are 
deserted. Where were found the spring 
flowers, is now seen the growing fruit, whilst 
the grain, golden with beauty, waves in the 
breeze. 
Summer flees before Autumn, and the 
flowers save a few pale or hardy ones are 
gone. The ripened fruits fall to the earth 
The birds wing their way to a more genial 
climate. The wind nestles among the stiff, 
sere leaves and the branches become bare. 
Autumn yields to Winter. A glassy 
surface is on the water. Showers of snow 
mantle the earth in pure whiteness. Won¬ 
derful images start into being as if by magic, 
and like magic melt away in a breath.— 
Cold, bitter winds sweep along the frozen 
earth, or play fantastic tricks with the fairy 
snow flakes. 
Winter has had its reign, but never will 
those flowers bloom again, nor those fruits 
be garnered more, nor shall we hear those 
same birds 
cember, 1 t 99, he was attacked with an in¬ 
flammation in the throat; from which, hav¬ 
ing been bled and leeched, and subjected 
to the medical treatment of those times, he 
rapidly grew worse, and died on Saturday, 
the 14th of the same month, in the sixty- 
eighth year of his age, literally, and in spir¬ 
it, deeply mourned by a nation who re<*ard- 
ed and loved him as a father. Such was 
the purity, integrity, and unconscious self- 
devotion of this great man, that the con¬ 
templation of his character and life, to the 
remotest time, will swell the heart with 
grateful emotions, and overflow the eyes 
with tears. J 
SKETCHES OF THE PRESIDENTS.— NO* L 
GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
course. Ihe greatness of his character, 
and the influence of his personal virtue, 
supplied the adjuncts of hereditary super¬ 
stition and of military force to his newly 
created magistracy, and surrounded the re¬ 
public with an impenetrable aegis, which 
safely preserved its young life in purity and 
vigor. The line of policy which his pro¬ 
phetic mind adopted—strict neutrality in 
European warfares—could alone have saved 
the country then, and good men still believe, 
can alone perpetuate it now. 
We trace back the genealogy of Wash¬ 
ington to ancient times, in Purtfield and 
Warton, Lancashire; thence to Sir William 
VV ashington, of Leicestershire, eldest son of 
— 0 Washington, Esq,, of Sulgrave, 
- — -be youngest 
FUNERAL SEQUIUBL 
Presidents. In preference to attempting a Biogra¬ 
phy of the illustrious Washington, we adopt the 
subjoined excellent sketch from the American Phre¬ 
nological Journal.] 
The memoiy of General Washington, 
going back to a time when faction was not, 
has outlived the factional misrepresentations 
it subsequently encountered, and his fame 
now shines over all the world, with the lus¬ 
trous glory of a star, over the mists and 
storms of common life. The incidents in 
his long and ever successful career, are fa¬ 
miliar as household idioms to the very chil¬ 
dren of the Republic, and he has already 
become a fitting object for our reason as 
well as our reverence to exercise themselves 
upon. By venerating his name, we give 
the heart that holiday of enthusiasm and 
devotion for which it finds so few excuses 
among the living; and in analyzing his char¬ 
acter and motives, we place ourselves more 
nearly in contact with the ideal which ought 
to stimulate our ambition and inspire our 
BY GEO. ?. MORRIS. 
“ Man dieth ‘and wasteth away. 
And where is he?” Hark! from the sk 
I hear a voice answer and say— 
“ Tlie spirit of man never dies.” 
His body, which came from the earth. 
Must mingle again with the sod; 
His soul, which in heaven had birth. 
Returns to the bosom of God. 
No terror has death or the grave. 
To those who believe in the Lord. 
Who know the Redeemer can save. 
And lean on the strength of his word: 
While ashes to ashes, and dust 
We give unto dust, in our gloom. 
The light of salvation we trust , 
Which hangs like a light in the tomb. 
O I.'.rii God Almighty! to thee 
We turn as ounsolace above; 
The waters may fail from the sea. 
But never thy fountains of love; 
O teach us thy will to obey. 
And sing with one heart and accord— 
He gave and be taketh away. 
And praised be the name of the Lord. 
songs. Yet we may look upon 
flowers, and fruits, and frost-works, and listen 
to voices that have their like; for God has 
so ordained it, that like shall come of like 
till Time itself shall pass away. 
The acorn buried in the soil and influenced 
by air, light and moisture, bursts its shell, 
rises above the ground, and slowly, year 
after year, advances upward, till, when cen¬ 
turies have passed, it towers a giant among 
its fellows even as did its parent tree. Years 
yet wear on. Decay now sits gnawing at 
its core. At length it yields, and prostrated, 
slowly mingles again with the dust It was, 
Lawrence 1 
Northamptonshire. ~ Two of the ycur.~cif 
sons of bir William, named John and Law¬ 
rence, emigrated to America, in 1657, and 
settled at Bridge’s Creek, on the Potomac 
river, in the county of Northumberland. - 
John died in 1697, leaving two sons, John 
and Augustine. The latter was married 
twice, and died in 1743, at the age of forty- 
nine, leaving several sons, of whom George 
was the eldest by his second wife, Mary 
Ball. He was born at Bridge’s Creek, Feb¬ 
ruary 22, 1732. 
His father dying when he was ten, 
George Washington, whose disposition 
from childhood had been of a military turn, 
fitted himself and entered the British navy 
as a midshipman, at the age of fifteen. At 
the early age of nineteen, his character had 
already made him so much esteemed, that 
he was appointed one of the adjutant-gen-! 
erals of Virginia, with rank of major. 
In October, 1753, Governor Dinwiddie 
selected Major Washington as a messen¬ 
ger to proceed to the French foi .s on the 
Ohio, to remonstrate with General'St. Pierre 
| against his occupying a portion of territory 
deemed to be within the province of Vir¬ 
ginia. Ibis difficult and dangerous journey 
he performed in so satisfactory a manner, 
as to raise him greatly in public estimation. 
Ihe next year, a detachment of 400 men 
was sent against the French, the command 
of which finally devolved upon Major, now 
Colonel, Washington, who distinguished 
himself in the affair of the Great Meadows, 
for which he received a vote of thanks from 
the legislature. 
ine next year Colonel Washington join¬ 
ed the expedition of General Braddock, 
whose disastrous termination is well known’ 
General Braddock himself was killed in the 
battle of Monongahela, and the command 
devolved on Colonel Washington, whose 
masterly conduct of the retreat of the bro¬ 
ken forces is now celebrated in history. 
Shortly after this event, Colonel Wash¬ 
ington was appointed commander-in-chief 
of the military forces of Virginia, and, in 
1758, led the expedition to Fort Duquesne 
AFFECTION 
PA3SI0N. 
Affection is the Fire, oonfined and 
guarded, yet carefully cherished,—which 
gives its cheerful warmth to the household. 
Through the darkness and gloom of Grief] 
it sheds its rays of brightness and its influ¬ 
ences of cheer over the circle. Amid the 
j intense rigors of Adversity, it still may 
make the life within doors peaceful and ge- 
| niaL It goes into the drawing-room, with 
Us costly furnishings; into the library, with 
Us ranged books and maps; into the pleas¬ 
ant, familiar place of rest and converse * 
and it makes them all cheerful. It goes up 
mto the nursery, and folds the little ones 
in the influence of its power. It makes 
all more glad to come home from the world, 
and to gather in groups round the family 
hearth. It is the cheerer, enlightener, and 
comforter of life; a serviceable friend, as 
well as a brilliant and beautiful companion ■ 
and without it, the world would be desolate’ 
and cold. 
I assion is the same Fire, broken loose 
from restraint and devastating life. The 
choicest powers are swept before it The 
tmest ornaments, of culture and taste, are 
despoiled in its hot grasp. The most de¬ 
lightful circles are broken up and destroyed 
the mouldering remains of animals and of 
vegetables, whose races long ago became 
extinct, reveal to us that they have only 
obeyed that law from which there is no 
escape, and to which the earth itself must 
sooner or later yield. 
To the fervent imagination, the Past 
shrouded as it is in Oblivion’s gloom, pre¬ 
sents a wondrous field for speculation.— 
Could we raise its vail and look upon those 
scenes which have transpired where we now 
build our dwellings, how might we start 
with surprise. 
We know not what mighty revolutions 
have shaken this Western Continent We 
know not but here has been the theatre 
where have been acted scenes in the drama 
of life that would, if possible, exceed our 
boldest conceptions. We know not but 
wisdom held here her sacred retreats and 
that nations more powerful, and far wiser 
than any of historic times, have flourished 
tili they attained the highest altitude of hu¬ 
man power and glory, and then, like the 
unconscious oak, mouldered into forgetful¬ 
ness. That nations have flourished on this 
continent antecedent to those who greeted 
its modern discoveries, we have ample proof 
m the ancient remains that lie scattered 
through the country; and that others still 
more remote have existed is but reasonable 
to infer. But where is their memory— 
their valor their glory ? Like themselves 
passed forever away. 
As with the things of nature so in the 
affairs of men, “All things pass away."_ 
Human history covers but a brief period, 
yet how pregnant with results. Nations 
have risen to greatness, even to honor, but 
have gone back to their original elements, I 
Home, this is not the house, though 
that may have its charms; nor the fields 
carefully tilled, and streaked with your own 
foot-paths;—nor the trees, though their 
shadow be to you like a great rock in a 
weary land;—nor yet is it the fireside with 
its sweet blaze-play; —nor the pictures 
which tell of loved ones; nor the cherished 
books,—but far more than all these—it is 
the Presence. The Lares of your worship 
are there; the altar of your confidence there; 
the end of your wordly faith is there; and 
adorning it all, and sending your blood in 
passionate flow, is the ecstacy of the convic¬ 
tion, that there at least you are beloved; 
that there you are understood; that there 
your errors will meet ever with gentlest 
forgiveness; that there your troubles will be 
smiled away; that there you may unburden 
your soul, fearless of harsh, unsympathizino¬ 
ears; and that there you maybe entirely 
and joyfully — yourself.—“ Ik. Marvel’s” 
Reveries of a Bachelor. 
I he mind is like a glowing spark, which, 
when suffered to rest, is ever in danger of 
being smothered by the dross and Wishes 
which life deposits. It must be kept con¬ 
stantly in motion, lest it perish in its youth. 
I he quiet monotony which is so suitable to 
the body, as it becomes impelled by age, is 
unumy instrumental m iorming. Durino- 
the first eight years of the just born repub¬ 
lic, the world witnessed the 
-- most terrific 
upheaving of public opinion, and the blood¬ 
iest political revolution, that history has yet 
recorded. Both the theories and acts of a 
newly convulsed people, just escaped from 
despotism, and wild with the possession of 
a liberty they knew not how to use, were 
especially contagious in this country at that 
moment, flushed as it was with its own re¬ 
cent triumph, and continually listening to 
appeals the most inflammatory, and argu¬ 
ments the most plausible, to mingle in the 
European fray. Had they been yielded to, 
all men now admit that the consequence 
