MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
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HEART SHADOWS. | 
The rack that weaves the vapory pall 
Between the sun and earth, 
Soon passes, and the birds again 
Make melody and mirth; 
But ah! there is a darker cloud, 
That will not thus depart, 
But flings, though roll away the years, 
A shadow on the heart. 
The dim and misty veil that drapes 
A soinhrc April sky. 
Is kindled, now and then, by gleams 
Of Day’s bright golden eye; 
But through a denser, darker cloud 
The sunbeam cannot dart— 
It coldly (lings forevermore 
A shadow on the heart. 
It may be Study that has brought 
This deep, abiding gloom— 
Blind, erring Love, whose roses frail 
Catch odors from the tomb; 
Or pleasure wild, that beckons us 
To sail without a chart, 
May fling, till o’er the stormy cruise, 
A shallow on the heart. 
Lot music wake her sweetest note, 
And Joy his loudest strain— 
The light that cheered and warmed of old 
Comes never hack again. 
The mantle of a night that morn 
In twain will never part. 
Flings heavily for evermore 
Chill shadows on the heart. 
THE IMPORTANCE OF READING. 
AN INTERESTING INCIDENT. 
It is of the greatest importance that 
young persons should seek the companion¬ 
ship of books—should rest at times irons tin¬ 
bustling affairs of business, and hold sweet 
converse with those great minds which have 
flourished in all ages and transmitted their 
researches for the benefit of posterity. 
Books are never-failing sources of knowl¬ 
edge. We gaze upon nature and turn to 
books as our instructors; upon the starry 
heavens and see there the streaming comet, 
the flashing meteor, the lurid lightning, 
and hear the deep toned thunder pealing 
out its wildest notes,—and then turn to the 
pages of science to learn why they are thus, 
and what great end they serve. And if we 
dive beneath the surface of the earth, i 
new field for contemplation is presented tt 
the view', and this too is treated of on the 
printed page, for the Geologist has done his 
part that no avenue may be closed against 
the young aspirant for knowledge. 
To seek for instruction is the impera¬ 
tive duty of the young, and there can be 
no better way to employ the leisure mo¬ 
ments. Not in sauntering idly about or 
frequenting the halls of pleasure and folly, 
but in poring over the pages of the poet, 
historian and philosopher, and gleaning 
gems of thought to enrich and beautify the 
mind. 
There can be no higher eulogy upon a 
young man, than that his evenings are pass¬ 
ed at home; where, gathered around the 
cheerful fireside, books, conversation and 
the society of loved ones, render it an altar, 
a paradise, and a sure defence against the 
snares of vice and dissipation. We predict 
for such a one, honor, distinction and a life 
of usefulness. And what can be more 
lovely,or fascinating, than a highly cultivated 
mind in a young woman. If but half the 
time which is expended in gaining a few 
trivial accomplishments was devoted to the 
right search for knowledge there would not 
be such a meagre number of learned and 
' talented women. Besides, the high estima- 
i tion in which those few are held is sufficient 
! stimulus on one would suppose, to urge, 
) others to do likewise. 
Be a reader then,—a careful reader, if 
> you would be powerful, if you would be- 
1 come wfise and honored, if you would be 
\ worthy the names and station, of men and 
; women. R. M. Allen. 
) Bristol Centre, N. V., 1851. 
Books before Printing. —The labor at¬ 
tendant upon propagating manuscript copies 
; of volumes prior to the invention of printing, 
- has been thus very 7 feelingly described by 
William Caxton:—“Thus end I this book; 
and for as moche as in wry ting the same 
! my penne is worn, myn hande wery, and 
; myn eyne dimmed with over moche loolt- 
> ing on the whit paper, and that age creep- 
> eth on me dayly.” * * * Accordingly 
•1 50 years were sometimes employed in pro- 
) ducing a single volume. At the sale of 
' Sir W. Burrell’s books, May 7 , 179G, there 
; was displayed a MS. bible on vellum, beau- 
' tifully written with a pen, and illuminated, 
; which had taken upwards of half a century 
\ to perform; the writer, Guido de Jars, be- 
\ gan it in his fortieth year, and yet did not 
) finish it till he was upwards of ninety. 
Franklin, the Philosopher, when quite 
a young man after an absence of some time 
from home, thought he would try the ex¬ 
tent to which instinct in a parent would 
discover the child. The result was that his 
mother was loth to give him a shelter over 
night, though a severe snow storm was 
raging, and would only allow him the use 
of an arm chair to sleep in—having the 
colored boy stay in the same room, after the 
precaution of locking up all her silver .—. 
Her instinct was more than overcome by 
her prudence, and she, with bitter tears to 
the last of her life, regretted that her son 
had thus been treated in his mother’s house 
as a felon. . 
One of our townsmen on a recent visit to 
New England, after thirteen years absence, 
thought lie would try Franklin’s experi¬ 
ment. He rapped at his father’s door, men¬ 
tioning that he was weary, and asked if he 
could have a lunch, as it was some distance 
to an inn. It was his father who met him 
at the door, and asked him in, after telling 
him he could be supplied with food. The 
mother was not in the room, but as the fath¬ 
er asked her to bring the refreshments, she 
came in. 
With the feelings and emotions of a child, 
unknown under a parent’s roof, our hero 
had turned his back, that on opening the 
door his face mffht not at first be seen —he 
proceeded to partake of what they hospita¬ 
bly set before him. Mentioning that he 
came from Rochester, N. Y., our friend was 
at once questioned if he knew one there 
whose name was R-. “Oh, yes, I know 
him well,” was the reply. “He is a hatter 
in the city, and made my hat,”—showing it 
witli the maker’s name inside. 
“Well,” says the mother, “you must 
give me the lining, at any rate, for it is a 
long time since we have seen our son.” 
At this our friend could not further hes¬ 
itate to make himself known—and what 
followed all can well imagine. j. ii. w. 
Rochester, N. Y. 
AN APOLOGY. 
Of all the wares and commodities in ex¬ 
change and barter, wherein so mainly con¬ 
sists the civilization of our modern world, 
there is not one which is so carefully weigh¬ 
ed—so accurately measured—so plumbed 
and guaged—so doled and scraped—so 
poured out in minima and balanced with 
scruples—as that necessary of social com¬ 
merce called au“apology!” If the chem¬ 
ists were half so careful in vending their 
poisons, there would be a notable diminu¬ 
tion in the yearly average of victims lo ar¬ 
senic and oxalic acid. But, alas, in the mat¬ 
ter of apology, it is not from the excess ot 
the dose, but the timid, niggardly, miserly 
manner in which it is dispensed, that poor 
Humanity is hurried off to the Styx! llow 
many times does a life depend on the exact 
proportions of an apology! Is it ahairbreadth 
too short to cover the scratch for which you 
want it? Make your will—you are a dead 
man! 
A life do you say!—a hecatomb of ives! 
How many wars would have been prevent¬ 
ed, how many thrones would be standing, 
dynasties flourishing, commonwealths braw¬ 
ling round a bema, or fitting out galleys for 
corn and cotton—if an inch or two more 
of apology had been added to the proffered 
ell! But then that plaguy, jealous, suspi¬ 
cious old vinegar-faced Honor, and her part 
ncr, Pride—as penny-wise and pound-fool¬ 
ish a she skinflint as herself—have the 
monopoly of the article. And what with 
the time they lose in adjusting their specta 
cles, hunting in the precise shelf for the 
precise quantity demanded, then (quality 
found) the haggling as to quantum—con¬ 
sidering whether it should be Apothecary’s 
weight or Avordupois, or English measure 
or Flemish—and, finally, the hullaboloo 
they make if the customer is not perfectly 
satisfied with the monstrous little he gets 
for his money,—1 don’t wonder, for my part, 
how one loses temper and patience, and 
sends Pride, Honor, and Apology, all to the 
spirit of evil. 
Aristophanes,in his “Comedyof Peace," 
insinurtes a beautiful allegory by only suf¬ 
fering that goddess, though in fact she is 
his heroine, to appear as a mute. She takes 
care never to open her lips. The shrewd 
Greek knew very well that she would cease 
to be Peace, if she once began to chatter. 
Wherefore, 0 reader, if ever you find your 
pump under the iron heel of another man’s 
boot, heaven grant that you may hold your 
tongue, and not make things past all en¬ 
durance and forgiveness by brawling out 
for any apology!— JBulwer. 
Beauty, as the flowering blossom, soon 
fades; but the divine excellency of the mind, 
like the medicinal virtues of the plant, re 
main in it when all those charms are with¬ 
ered. 
That is not always excellent which lies 
away from us. What is remote and diffi¬ 
cult of access we iu’c apt to over-rate; wliat 
is really best for us lies always within our 
reach, though often overlooked.— Longfel¬ 
low. 
JOURNEY FROM CAIRO TO BQULAK. 
To our eyes every thing was a picture. 
Vainly the broad road was crowded with 
Muslim artizans, home-returning from their 
work. To the mere Muslim observers they 
were carpenters, masons, laborers and trades¬ 
men of all kinds. We passed many a med¬ 
itating Cairene, to whom there was nothing 
but the monotony of an old story in that 
evening and on that road. But we saw all 
the pageantry of oriental romance quietly 
donkeying into Cairo. Camels, too, sway¬ 
ing and waving like huge phantoms of the 
twilight, horses with strange gay trappings, 
curbed by tawny turbaned equestrians, the 
peaked toe of the red slipper resting in the 
shovel stirrup. It was a fair festal evening. 
The whole world was masquerading, and 
so weli that it seemed reality. 
I saw Fadladeen with a gorgeous turban 
and a gay sash. His chibouque, wound with 
colored silk and gold threads, was borne 
behind him by a slave. Fat and funny was 
Fadladeen as of old; and though Fermorz 
was not by, it was clear to see in the lan¬ 
guid droop of his eyes, that choice Arabian 
verses were sung by the twilight in his 
mind. 
Yet was Venus still the evening star; for 
behind him,, closely veiled, came Lalla 
Rookh. She was wrapped in a vast silken 
bao-, that buff ed like a balloon over her 
donkey. But a star suffused evening cloud 
was that bulky blackness, as her twin eyes 
shone forth liquidly lustrous. 
Abou Hassan sat at the city gate, and I 
saw Haroun Alrashid quietly coming up 
in the disguise of a Moussoul merchant. 
I could not but wink at Abou, for I knew 
him so long ago in the Arabian Nights. 
But he rather stared than saluted, as friends 
may, in a masquerade. There was Sinbad 
the porter, too, hurrying to Sinbad the sai¬ 
lor. I turned and watched his form fade 
in twilight, yet I doubt if he reached Bag¬ 
dad in time for the eighth history. 
Scarce had he passed when a long string 
of donkeys ambled by bearing each one of 
the inflated balloons. It was a harem ta¬ 
king the evening air. A huge eunuch was 
the captain, and rode before. They are 
bloated, dead-eyed creatures, the eunuchs— 
but there be no eyes of greater import¬ 
ance to martial minds. The ladies came 
gaily after, in single file, chatting together, 
and although Araby’s daughters are still 
born to blush unseen, they looked earnestly 
upon the staring strangers. Did those stran • 
gers long to behold that hidden beauty! 
Could they help it if all the softness and 
sweetness of hidden faces radiated from 
melting eyes? 
Then came Sakkas—men with hog skins 
slung over their backs, full of water. I re¬ 
membered the land and the time of putting 
wine into old bottles, and was shoved back 
beyond glass. Pedlers—swarthy fatalists 
in lovely lengths of robe and turban, cried 
their wares. To our Frank’s ears it-was 
mere Babel jargon. Yet had erudite Mr. 
Lane, accompanied us, Mr. Lane the eastern 
Englishman, who has given us so many gol¬ 
den glimpses into the silence and mystery of 
oriental life, like a good genius revealing to 
ardent lovers the ever hallowed heart of the 
harem, we should have understood those 
cries. 
We should have heard “ Sycamore figs 
—0 Grapes”—meaning that said ligs were 
offered, and the sweetness of sense and 
sound that“ grapes hath was only bait for the 
attention :”or, “ Odors of Paradise, O flow¬ 
ers of the henna,” causing Muslim maidens 
to tinge to their very nails’ends; or, indeed, 
these Pedler Poets, vending water melons, 
sang, “ Consoler of the embarrassed, 0 Pips,” 
Were they not poets, these pedlers, and 
full of all oriental extravagance? For the 
sweet association of poetic names shed sil¬ 
very sheen over the actual article offered. 
The unwary philosopher might fancy that 
he was buying comfort in a green water 
melon, and the pietist dream of mementos of 
heaven, in the mere earthly vanity of henna. 
These are masquerade manners, and 
they are pleasant The maiden buys not 
henna only, but a thought of heaven. The 
poet not water melons only, but a dream of 
consolation, which truly he will need. When 
shall we hear in Broadway, “Spring blush 
of the hillside, 0 Strawberries,” or “ Breast 
buds of Venus, 0 milk.”'Never, never, until 
milkmen are turbaned, and berry women 
ballooned. 
A pair of Persians wound among these 
pedlers, clad in the strange costume. They 
wore high, shaggy hats, and undressed skins, 
and in their girdles shone silver mounted 
pistols and daggers. They had come into 
the West, and were loitering along, amazed 
at what was extremely East to us. They 
had been famous in Gotham, no Muscat 
envoy more admired. But nobody stared 
at them here except us. We were the odd 
and observed. We had strayed into the 
universal revel, and had forgotten to don 
turbans at the gate. 0 Pyramids! thought 
I, to be where Persians are commonplace. 
In this brilliant bewilderment we played 
only the part of Howadjii, which is the uni¬ 
versal name for traveler—the “ Forestiero” 
of Italy. It signifies merchant or shopkeep¬ 
er, and truly the Egyptians must agree 
with the bilious Frenchman, that the Eng¬ 
lish aro a nation of shopkeepers, seeing 
them swarm forever through the land. For 
those who dwell at Karnak and in the shadow 
of Memnon, who build their mud huts upon 
the Edfoo Temple, and break up Colossa 
for lime, can not imagine any travel but 
that for direct golden gain. Belzoni was 
held in the wiser native mind to be a mere 
Donsterswivel of a treasure-hunter. Did 
not Ilamed Aga come rushing two days’ 
journey w’th two hundred men, and de¬ 
mand of him the large golden cock full of 
diamonds and pearls? Think how easily 
the Arabian Nights must have come to such 
men! Sublime stupidity! 0 Egyptians! 
—Notes of a Howadjii. 
MAXIMS TO GUIDE A YOUNG MAN. 
your 
Keep good company or none. 
Never be idle. If your hands cannot be 
usefully employed, attend to the cultivation 
of your mind. 
Always speak the truth. 
Make few promises. 
Live up to all your engagements. 
Have no very intimate friends. 
Keep your own secrets, if you have any. 
When you speak to a person, look him 
in the face. 
Good company and good conversation are 
(he very sinews of virtue. 
Good character is above all things else. 
Never listen to loose or infidel conversa¬ 
tion. 
You had better be poisoned in 
blood than in your principles. 
Your character cannot be essentially in¬ 
jured except by your own acts. 
If any one speaks evil of you, let your 
life be so virtuous that none will believe him. 
Always speak and act as in the presence 
of God. 
Drink no kind of intoxicating liquors. 
Ever live, misfortune excepted, within 
your income. 
When you retire to bed, think over what 
you have been doing during tlie day. 
Never speak lightly of religion. 
Make no haste to be rich if you would 
prosper. 
Small and steady gains give competency 
with tranquillity of mind. 
Never play at any kind game of chance. 
Avoid temptation, through fear that you 
may not withstand it. 
Earn money before you spend it. 
Never run in debt, unless you see a way 
to get out again. 
Never borrow if you can possibly avoid it. 
Do not marry till you are able to support 
a wife. 
Never speak evil of any one. 
Be just before you are generous. 
Keep yourself innocent, if you would be 
happy. 
Save when you are young, to spend when 
you are old. 
Never think that which you do for re¬ 
ligion is time oi money misspent. 
Always go to meeting when you can. 
. Read some portion of the Bible every day. 
Often think of death, and your account¬ 
ability to God. 
Read over the above maxims at least 
once a week, (Saturday night.) — S. P., in 
Gazette and Courier. 
Cab its’ fttuaami. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE ANGEL AND CHILD, 
’Twas almost sunset! and the dirge-like moan 
Of wintry winds was now to silence hushed, 
While tlte soft clouds more swiftly winged their flight, 
As if to fan Day’s King to rest, or else 
To gilrl his nightly couch with drapery rich, 
While Eve’s bright star doth stand as sentinel. 
His lingering beam, this holy, hallowed hour 
Fell on a lowly cottage, where was seen 
A mother bending o’er the cradle couch 
Of a sweet-sleeping infant. 
Ere it waked 
An angel whispered from the skies above, 
Such words as did inspire its infant dream 
With heavenly rapture. “ I am come ” said he 
“ To bear thy spirit through the ether dim, 
To that bright world in which the Savior dwells, 
And where a little band—a heavenly choir 
Are twining a bright wreath to deck thy brow, 
Who will with thee exalt the name of Him 
Thine infant lips have not yet learned to speak. 
Peaceful and silent passed its soul away, 
And while the mother thought Iter loved one slept, 
Its spirit freed was borne on angel wings 
From sleep on earth to purest rest above. 
West Gaines, N. Y. f. j. f. 
WHAT THE GIRLS ARE DOING. 
A WORD ON DEBT. 
Debt is a perfect bore. How it haunts 
a man from pillar to post—lurking in his 
breakfast cup—poisoning his d.nner —em¬ 
bittering his tea!—how it stalks before him 
like a living, moving skeleton, seeming to 
announce his presence by recounting the 
amount of liabilities. How it poisons his 
domestic joys, by introducing its infernal 
“ balance” into the calculation of Madam 
respecting the price of a new carpet, or a 
new dress! How it hinders dreamy plans 
for speculations and accumulations. Both¬ 
eration ! How it hampers useless energies, 
cripples resoultions too good to be fulfilled. 
At bed and board, by night or by day, 
in joy or grief, in health or sickness, at 
home or abroad—debt—grim, gaunt and 
shadowy, falls as an incubus. As no pres¬ 
ence is too sacred, no ground is too holy to 
deter the memory of “ bills and notes paya¬ 
ble” from taking immediate possession — so 
no record is so enlivening, no reminiscences 
more delicious than the consciousness that 
debt has fallen like a January morning, 
twenty-nine degrees below zero! 
Character.— The character of the young- 
men of a community depend much on that 
of the young women. If the latter are cul¬ 
tivated, intelligent and accomplished, the 
young men will feel the requirement that 
they themselves should be upright, and 
gentlemanly, and refined; but if their fe¬ 
male friends are trifling, fri\olous and silly, 
tue young men will be found to be diss : pa- 
ted and worthless. But remember, always, 
that a sister is the best guardian of a brother’s 
integrity. She is the surest inculcator of a 
faith in female purity and worth. As a 
daughter, she is the true light of the home. 
The pride of the father is often centered in 
his sons, but his affection is expended on 
his daughters. She should therefore be 
the sun and centre of all. 
That which appears to us as particles of 
dust on the wings of a butterfly, are beau¬ 
tiful and well arranged little feathers. 
We doubt if it be generally known to 
what an extent the manufacture of straw 
bonnets is carried on in Massachusetts.— 
Some of the choicest work produced in 
America, in this line, is said to come from 
the hands of the girls in Farmington, Iiol- 
liston, and Foxborough, in this State. A 
very extensive trade is being carried on al¬ 
so, in this line, in Medfield, Franklin, and 
other towns, in that vicinity. 
The value of straw bonnets made in 
Medfield, for instance, in a single twelve- 
month, was over $ 130,000. This year, up¬ 
wards of an hundred young ladies are em¬ 
ployed there, at braiding this material, and 
the average -wages earned in the business 
is from live to seven dollars a week. This 
is large pay, for the services ot young wo¬ 
men, and we rejoice that they are able to 
earn such handsome compensation for their 
labor. 
In the town of Foxborough, 133,654 
straw bonnets were made in one year, val¬ 
ued at $220,000. The value of the same 
article made in Franklin in one year was 
$160,000. These bonnets find their prin¬ 
cipal market in New York. The business 
is very profitable; it is a very nice employ¬ 
ment for females, and the article thus pro¬ 
duced, compares successfully with those of 
a similar character which are imported. 
We often wonder, says the Mail, that fe¬ 
males in the city, who sew for a song a day, 
do not go into this business, and make $1 a 
day. It should, however, be said, that straw 
bonnet making only lasts about half the 
year, say from November until June. But 
it is better to work half the year, and get 
paid for it, and then rest and enjoy life, than 
to work the whole of the year with half 
pay, and get no rest or enjoyment 
Everybody loves the industrious working 
girls, with their rosy cheeks, bright eyes, 
and elastic footsteps! Such girls make 
good wives—and happy indeed will those 
men be who secure such prizes. Contrast 
them with those who do nothing but sigh 
all day, and live to follow all the fashions, 
who never earn the bread they eat or the 
shoes they wear, who are languid and lazy 
from one week’s end to another. Who but 
a simpleton and a popinjay would prefer 
one of the latter if he were looking for a 
companion? Give us the working girls.— 
They are worth their weight in gold. You 
never see them mincing along or jump a 
dozen feet to steer clear of a spider or a fly. 
They have no affectations, no squeamy airs 
about them. When they greet you they 
speak without putting on a dozen silly airs, 
or trying to show off to better advantage 
“you feel as if you were speaking to a hu¬ 
man being, and not to a painted fallen angel. 
—American Union. 
THE GENIUS OF WOMAN. 
Women are fortunate in a turn for 
those occupations which can be performed 
while sitting still, or which require move¬ 
ment in a limited circle only. Their Cla- 
rissq-like genius for weaving page after page 
of letter writing, or, in other words, for that 
interminable piece of chequer work, dark 
and formidable, the crossed letter—ever ex¬ 
tending it unsparingly to the corner where 
the white surface of the paper still shows 
itself, down to the last crossed line of the 
last page—is quite an immediate blessing 
of Heaven; while their talents for forming 
friendships with birds and goldfish — their 
craze for administering slop and flattery to 
the young of animals, as if they were young 
children—their incredible patience under 
any affliction of plants and flowers, which 
they will sometimes meditate and regard 
as if they were endeavoring to pass the 
bounds of human knowledge, and to enter 
the mysteries of vegetable life—and their 
great instinct for making themselves end¬ 
lessly happy with the vast subject of dress 
—are endowments which must be referred 
to the same category. These resources are 
their salvation in many strange situations, 
in which it would go hard, we suspect, with 
male faculties. 
