MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOUR NAL. 
165 
e.eUcmt' 0115 , 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE CAPTIVE. 
BY O. H. CONGAR. 
- all the varied ra-.ge of human woe, 
S ) of cruelties that wring the tender heart 
■ ( And draw hot tears from sympathetic eyes, 
? ] There’s none so sickening to the noble mind 
! As tpe dark doom of him who lies debarred 
i ; Fr0 ,n Heaven’s free .air, deep in the dungeons gloom. 
S ) F( r birfi remains there what of hope or jo> 1 
fi 1 Ausht that can assuage one touch of misery, 
i j <)r tear one horror from his heart away? 
| ) No> att ia angu.sh, bitter, still and deep; 
-phe spell of agony—the ever burning throb 
\ Of ceaseless, gnawing pain—the dire suspense 
\ \ Of crushing desolation, and the sense 
G ) of long protracted, solitary woe. 
’ > Tlie . ;0 , )T e s upon his fevered brain-each hour 
i! ( But shoots a sharper pang thro’ all his soul, 
•’ > with life a curse-a blasting, withering curse. 
I { Great God! can man thus deal towards man? is there 
[ \ s,;ci, cold malignity, Such fiendish hate? 
1 f He who exulting breathes the mountain gale, 
i { v- Or hounds rejoicing o’er the breezy hids, 
»' [ | ns .,ircd and strengthened with the glorious thought 
-can he in wanton pride 
That lie is frer. 
Rivet the shackles on his fellow man. 
And with strong fetters and with holts and bars 
Sh it out from him the light of day? Alas! 
And such is man; thus ever will he tear 
From out his heart the feelings of a man, 
And like the savage tiger or the wolf, 
Sei/.c with rapacious and insatiate fangs 
The victim that his thirsty eye has marked, 
To triumph o’er the throes his wounds inflict. 
. Utica, N. Y., May, 18il. 
E> 
I 
BAY BREAMING. 
There are dreams of the night, and there 
are dreams of the day; sleeping dreams 
and waking dreams — between the two, 
much of the life of mankind is spent.— 
Manhood is the vision ground of youth, and 
youth the dream-land of age 
The mind 
of youth wanders free qn;l unfettered in the 
mazes of the future, ever anticipating hap¬ 
piness, and at the same time overlooking 
the means of obtaining it;—neglecting the, 
present it sports with fanciful chimeras 
which are evanescent as a dream of the 
morning. Age, wearied with the afflictions 
and trials of life, turns from its tangled net 
and seeks refuge in fond visions conjured up 
by the magic wand of memory,—visions 
which revel in the sunlight of departed 
youth, whose brightness was caused by the 
borrowed light of anticipated bliss. 
Thus in dreamy reveries the mind revels 
either in the shades of the Past or the vistas 
of the Future,-while the Present, which 
only is. ours and which alone we may en¬ 
joy” is neglected. Pile’s little things which 
make up in number what they lack in 
weight, and upon which depends our hap¬ 
piness in this sphere of existence, are look¬ 
ed upon as unworthy of a thought, and we 
are ever grasping at something distant and 
unattainable, which from its very distance 
and impossibility, receives most of the en¬ 
chantment which allures us in its pursuit. 
Little do we think how large a quota of 
life is occupied by these same day dreams, 
ij$ -these fruitless reveries. Many an hour, 
avo, many a year is filled up by these fits 
of mental abstraction - these revels of the 
fancy, whose wild and devious wanderings 
must ever be unproductive of good. J hey 
>1J engender a dislike for the real, whose beau- 
ties and sublimities become insipid and 
tasteless, to the morbid appetite, and 
\ | <; n0 ught will satisfy the abnormal cravings ol 
the imagination, but the vain creations of 
\\ 1 fancy, the moonstone palace ot the gor- 
s realms of the ideal, ihe multitude of 
,-els, romances, and works of fiction by 
which the world is deluged, foster and feed 
) this morbid and unhealthy appetite, impair 
\ the energies and destroy the activity ot the 
} m ind; steal away the time of mankind, 
| aitd consequently in ah their beatings and 
| tendencies are a curse to the human racix 
) WcstDryden, N. Y., l&ol. G - K - 
! PEARLS. 
HOME FLOWERS. 
hiow is the time to cultivate flowers 
about and in the house. There ought to 
be one in every spare spot of earth, and 
where trellises can be placed there ought 
to be running roses. What is more pleas¬ 
ant on a warm day than to take a stioll in 
one’s garden ? The bees and the humming¬ 
bird gather their nectar from the flowers, 
the air is periumed and exhilarating, tne 
sun throws down its laughing sunshine, 
while every beautiful petal seems to return 
a jo ous smile. r ihe birds, too, add their 
heavenly songs to the harmony of nature. 
The human heart joins the flowers and the 
birds, in one great anthem of praise to Him 
who has made all things so beautiful. 
; There are no abortions in the produc¬ 
tions of nature. Everything is perfect in 
its kind. Take the most insignificant flower, 
examine it with the keenest microscope, and 
you discover beauty—beauty only. The 
accomplishments of earth’s most renowned 
masters fail in the sublime competition with 
the Eternal Artists. W oiks that have 
been world-renowned for centuries become 
worthless compared with the violet of the 
garden. “ Behold the lilies of the field 1 
they toil not, neither do they spin. Yet Solo¬ 
mon, in all his glory, was notmiayed l>ke 
one of these.” 
The influence of flowers upon the home 
affections is pleasant and healthful, -they 
teach, incessantly, lessons of love and de- 
pendance. They instruct us that we may 
make a garden of the heart, redolent with 
fragrance and adorned with beauty, ihere 
is no flower in nature so exquisitely beauti¬ 
ful as that of goodness. It may sometimes 
be watered in tears, but the heavenly sun¬ 
shine of the great source of heat and light 
will warm it into gladness, and open its 
glowing leaves to the sun. 
We never saw an intrinsically had man 
or bad woman, who was passionately fond 
of flowers. We have seen the passions 
stimulated, and introduced into what is 
called polite life as a fashion; but like all 
other mere fashions it passes away for some 
fresher novelty. Flowers are the type of 
the gentler sentiments. This is pleasantly 
illustrated by Hawthorne, in his late work, 
the “ House of Seven Gables.’' Those who 
have read the volume will at once cast their 
thoughts upon Clifford Pyncheon, one of 
thq prominent characters in that singulaily 
interesting tale. He returns to the 1 ynch- 
eon mansion, old, partially deranged, and 
nervously sensitive. But he has always pos¬ 
sessed an innate love of the beautiful; and 
Ills delicate perception of a flower that was 
handed him on the day after his arrival is 
exquisite'?/ -drawn. Harrassed by his in¬ 
ti, -oitiesTthe sight of a rose would soothe 
WRITING GOOD ENGLU-TI. 
We are glad to see that the attention of 
critics, both here and in England, is direct¬ 
ed, more than ever before, to the writing 
of good English; and by this we mean a pref¬ 
erence for words of Anglo-Saxon origin, 
over those derived from the T renen, Latin, 
or Greek. In the seventeenth century, vast 
injury was done to our language by the in¬ 
troduction of numerous unnecessary words 
from the French. Addison, in part, reme¬ 
died this affectation, and restored the En¬ 
glish tongue to something of its old purity. 
But with Johnson arose a new school of 
innovators, who almost drowned the oiigi- 
nal lauTiurn'e out by the introduction of 
words of Latin origin, and by constructing- 
sentences after Ciceronian models. Burke 
and Cowper, and subsequently Byron and 
Wordsworth, checked this innovation, how¬ 
ever; and the taste is now for our good old 
mother English, in all its Anglo-Saxon 
strength. No language is more copious 
than our own. There is no necessity to 
go abroad for words to express any terms 
but scientific ones. It would be better, 
perhaps, if even these were constructed 
from Anglo-Saxon roots, as at Athens such 
terms were made out of Greek roots; for 
then popular readers could ur.deistand t>< a- 
tises on science, which now they cannot, at 
least without the aid of a dictionary. L 
language was intended, not as Talleyrand 
had it, 10 conceal thought, but to convey 
ideas, then that choice of words is the best 
which can be comprehended with the least 
LACONIC SERMON 
BY A LAYMAN. 
Ins spirit like the soft notes of the eeolian 
The "'arden was his paradise. Unfortunate¬ 
ly, he was too infirm of purpose, too spirit¬ 
ual, to be of any service to the world; yet 
he was gentle and kind as a child, feuch 
a man would never do a great deliberate 
wrong—never. 
Cultivate flowers! We tender this ad¬ 
vice to the wife, the husband, tne child. 
Let the house be scented with their aroma. 
Let them spring up everywhere-in the 
j yard, on the eaves, round the windows. Let 
them nod to vou, who arc within, fiom ev¬ 
ery nook and corner. 
But above all, cultivate well the flower 
of the heart. Keep the soil rich— pluck oft 
the dead leaves— pull up the weeds as soon 
they appear. Make of yourself a living- 
flower; and then, when the “ harvest home ” 
shall be sung, you will be transplanted into 
immortal life and unfading beauty. Port¬ 
land Eclectic. 
geousi 
nov< 
study. , 
The damage done to our language by 
various writers, in introducing foreign words, 
is almost incalculable; and was, even in the 
day sof Johnson, the subject of a witty farce, 
in which an oilman and a student from 
Oxford dispute whether the following is 
English or not:—“ You lucid orb, in ether 
pensile, irradiates the expanse. Refulgent 
scintillations, in th’ ambient void opaque 
emit humid splendor, <fcc. &c.” bays the 
Oxonian “I am enwrapt in astonishment! 
You are imposed on, Sir! instead of Latin 
and Greqk, you have heard arantin English. 
m English!” replies the old man, “ D’ye take 
me for a fool?—D’ye think I don’t know 
my own mother tongue? I was no more 
like English than I am like Whittington’s 
cat.” “It was every syllable English,” 
answer the Oxonian. “ There’s impudence! 
—There wasn’t no word of it English," 
rejoins the old man. “ Oh, the torture o 
ionorance,” replies the Oxonian, vvitn up¬ 
lifted hands. * “Ignorant! Come, come, 
none of your tricks upon travelers!” angrily 
retorts the old man. “ 1 know you mean 
all this as a skit upon my education, hut iff 
read the hardest chapter in Nehemiah with 
you for your ears.” Lut the Oxonian wa 
right, at least in one sense, for every wor ■ 
of this nonsensical rant may be found i ■ 
Johnson’s Dictionary. 
No man can be a forcible newspape 
writer—whatever else he may be-unky 
he uses chiefly words of Anglo-Saxon origii 
It was this that made Cobbett so powertu 
The Bible, as translated under King Jarm-i 
is a “ well of English undefiled;” and shoul 
be constantly studied by every one expec 
ing to write our language forcibly, or evi 
elegantly. The Prayer Book is also a goo 
model, though containing occasional obje< 
tinonable words. The earlier works of Burk 
Steele’s, writings, to a certain extent Swiit 
and Bunyan’s, Addison’s essays; and amor 
the poets, Shakspetvre, Cowper, Words won 
and Byron ape'the authors who should l 
the text-books for those studying the Ei 
olish tongue in its purity. 
Rkmembf.r The Poor.— Gal. 2, 10. 
In briefly treating this subject, I shall 
consider, 1st, The duty enjoined, and 2nd, 
The method of fully meeting the require¬ 
ments of tire command. 
There is no plainer precept of religion, no 
stricter injunction of the Gospel, than that 
mankind should regard the interests of the 
poor. When Judas murmured because 
Mary took a pound of ointment of spike¬ 
nard. very 'precious , and anointed her Sa¬ 
vior’s feet instead of converting the article 
into current funds and giving it to the poor, 
Jesus reproved the black-hearted traitor by 
telling him that while he himself would not 
be with the apostles always, the poor would 
he; and he adds, “ whensoever ye will, ye 
j may do them good,” (Mark 14, /.) Here 
is a hint that is equivalent to a command ; 
for, inasmuch as we are born to do benefits, 
and the needy are always at hand, there¬ 
fore we should be always striving to bless 
them. 
The injunction in our text has, no doubt 
express reference to the poor Christians in | 
Judea, as they, in the days of the apostle 
Paul, wore suffering the ills of poverty, 
arising, as Barnes suggests, “ either from 
some public persecution, or from the fact 
that they were subject to the displeasure 
of their countrymen.” The principle that 
would bind Christians, in those early times 
of the new dispensation, to help their suf¬ 
fering brethren, has equal force now, what¬ 
ever difference there may be in the causes 
of the suffering. Every man is command¬ 
ed to love his fellow man; and, hence, the 
obligation that rests upon us to love God 
equally binds us to bless our poor neighbors 
If further citations of Scripture are ne¬ 
cessary to show the sacredness and binning 
The welfare of the nation, if no other || 
motive, would seem to urge upon us the <J 
importance of educating the poor. When (j 
Isaiah (38, 6,) speaks of the future pros- ( J 
porky of the Jewish empire, writes Sidney < j 
Smith, “ he rests the stability of its fortunes j 
not upon wealth, nor extensive dominions, I 
but directly upon knowledge.” Wisdom < j 
and knowledge shall be the stability of thy j I 
times. As a republican government, in es- J 
pecial, rests on the intelligence of the mass- \ 
es, universal education must be the stabil- '■. 
itv of our times. “ The true prop of good j| 
government,” Robert Hall thinks, “ is the j 
opinion, the perception, on the part of the j! 
subject, of benefits resulting- from it; a set- } 
tied conviction in other words, of its being a 
public good. Now nothing, he acids, can 
produce or maintain that opinion, but knowl¬ 
edge, since opinion is a form of knowl¬ 
edge.” The same writer lias also ele¬ 
gantly and truthfully remarked that u 
there be any truth in the figure in which 
society is compared to a pyramid, it is on 
JENNY LIND AND THE WEAVER- 
Be calm and steady; nothing will grow 
under a moving harrow. 
It is more difficult to conceal the sensa¬ 
tion we have, than to feign those we have not. 
Vain glory is a stimulus that pleasingly 
titillates our hearts, and finally tears it. 
Virtue forgives injury, even as the sandal 
tree perfumes the hatchet that fells it. 
Talent without tact has been said to be 
like a fiddle without a fiddlestick. 
Be grateful for small benefits; it shows 
that you esteem men’s minds—not their 
trash. 
Prosperity is no just scale; adversity is 
the only true balance to weigh a friend. 
Deal gently with those who stray. 
Draw them back by love and persuasion. 
A kiss is worth a thousand kicks. A. kind 
word is more valuable to the lost than a 
mine of gold. Think of this and be on your 
guard, ye who would chase to the grave an 
erring brother. 
The “ London Farmer’s Magazine,” has 
the following anecdote in an article upon 
“Labor and the Poor.” It is in harmony 
with all the actions of this incomparable 
woman. The writer, describing his visit to 
Norwich, to examine the condition of the 
weavers in that city, observes 
“ I was directed to a person who was 
selected to weave one of their shawls as a 
present to Jenny Lind, at the time of her 
late visit to Norwich. He stated to me as 
follows;—“ Miss Lind was very kind to me 
as she was to every one who made any 
thing for her. She sent Miss-round to 
all that she could find, and gave ’em all 
that they wanted. When she came to me, 
[ said, l didn’t want anything; I thought 
it would be imposing like upon her; but 
Miss-said, “ You must have something ” 
nature of this duty to the poor, we wi’^ 
quote tlie opening verse ol the 45th Psalm ; 
Proverbs 14-21, and the 29th chapter and 
7th verse of the same book. “Blessed is 
he that considereth the poor; the Lord 
will deliver him in time of trouble.” “ He 
that hath mercy on the poor, happy is he. ’ 
“ The righteous considereth the cause of the 
poor; but the wicked regardeth not to know* 
it.” We see from this last quotation that 
one of the works of righteousness, one of 
the evidences of personal grace, is a disposi¬ 
tion to remember the poor. 
2J. We come now to the second branch 
of the subject—tlie extent of our obliga¬ 
tions to the poor. Every one will say at 
once, that a part of this duty consists in 
feeding and clothing those who are unable 
to do as much for themselves. But is this 
its full extent? We answer, No. “Man 
loth not live by bread only,” (Deut. 8, 3,) 
!“] I them [the poor] its stability chiefly depends 
the elaborate ornament at the top will be 
a wretched compensation, .for the want of 
solidity ia the lower parts of the structure.” 
Touching our obligation to regard tlie 
moral welfare of the indigent, it seems 
needless to expatiate; most persons ol <-'U- 
dimmed reason and unseared conscience, 
feel its force. Since the Scriptures are tne 
only revelation, of the will of God and the 
way of Salvation, and since they embody 
in their divine precepts the only sale and in¬ 
fallible “ rule of life,” it is all-important that 
the poor in this world’s goods, as well as 
the opulent, should have access to their 
riches. If our neighbors are not able to 
hire slips in splendid churches—as is often 
the case, in cities especially—let free seats 
be provided and reserved for them; let it 
be understood that the Gospel is n*ee and , | 
that all are invited to listen to its sou no, and ( jj 
to share in its blessings. Let raiment be <| 
provided for those who cannot decently (I 
clothe themselves, that they may not be d I 
ashamed to appear in the house of God, ( j 
and that there may be hopes of their event- 
ually becoming clad in the beautiful gar- , j 
meets of Christian humility. Let all the s j 
teachers in our Sabbath Schools—as some j 
devoted ones now do—take especia. pains 
to gather in the children of the poverty- 
stricken votaries oi dissoluteness, that thej 
may be seasonably taught to remember 
their Creator, and become the children of 
a better Parent,—one that is able to sax e. 
In short, let every agent now employed to 
ameliorate the moral condition of the poor, 
be enlarged in its scope and permitted 
to exert its full power, and tnen they will 
not cry in vain for the bread of eternal ]\‘t. 
Buffalo, May 7U), 1651. 
CHRISTIAN PEACE. 
THE LOVE OF PLEASING. 
- 
It may safely be taken for granted, th 
every one likes to please; there are hard 
exceptions to prove the rule. Whatev* 
subtle disguises this love of pleasing m: 
put on—however it may borrow roughnet 
or carelessness, or egotism, or sarcasm, ■ 
its mask—there it is, snug in tlie bottom 
each human heart, from St. Simeon Sty - 
lites shivering under the night-dews, 
Jenny Lind flying liom adoring- lion-humei 
he possesses a trinity of natures, and the 
mental and moral plead for nourishment as 
well as the physical. That is a narrow view 
of the subject, which sees no obligation to j istence. 
the needy save what appertains to their 
bodily necessities. Yet there are multitudes 
in an enlightened and Christian community 
who have no broader notions of the matter. 
The friends of parochial schools, for in¬ 
stance come partially, at least, under this 
head. To a sense of the intellectual needs 
of the poor, under certain circumstances, 
they seem to be dead, totally and irrevoca¬ 
bly. They would see that a child is educated 
if its parents are of like faith witn them¬ 
selves; but if the case is different, and the 
t.V 
Let me praise God for having turned me 
from a life of wo to the enjoyment of peace 
and hope. The work is real. I can no 
more doubt it than I can doubt my own ex- n ; 
The whole current of my desires ||> 
is altered. I am walking quite another 
way, thougn 1 am mcessantlv stumbling in )1-; 
that way. ° I had a most blessed view of T 
God and of divine things. 0 how great is 
his excellence! I find my heart pained for 
want of words to praise Him according to 
his excellent greatness. I looked loiwaid 
to complete conformity to Him as the great 
end of my existence, and my assurance was 
full. 1 said, almost in tears, “ Who shall 
separate me from the love of God ? . Shall 
tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or 
famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” 
— Henry Martyn. 
snuffboi, h » ?e »”° pa f u, “ r 
as committed his pie; beliei, and go nowhere to church, the ntfl~ 
Then my daughter said, “ Father, I think 
you want a good great-coat.” So Miss 
sent a tailor to measure me for one, and she 
paid for it, and I hadn’t had one for many 
a year before that. Miss Lind did a world 
of o-ood for the poor weavers when she was 
here, and all adore her lor it.” 
This weaver of Jenny Lind’s shawl, earned 
at making it, 11s 4d or §2,85 a week, to 
sustain himself and family. Is it any wonder 
we cannot manufacture Norwich shawls in 
the United States? 
The little boy who has committed his pie; 
with much labor ot brain, much screwii , 
of body, and anxious gesticular tuition, utte 
ly refuses to say it when the time come . 
Why? Not because he does not wish > 
please, but because his intense -desire to c > 
so has suddenly assumed a new form, th 
of fear; which, like all other passions, i 
very unreasonable. The same cause w 
make a young lady who has bestowed mu; 
thought on a new ball dress, declare at ti 
last moment, that she does not want to g' 
A doubt has suddenly assailed her as to ll 
success of her costume. The dress is sur 
ly beautiful, but will it make her so ? I’ 
vi<>-or of personal vanity preserves us fro 
these swoons of self esteem; and they a 
terrible while they last What wond* 
then that the thought of a perpetual sy 
cope ot that kind snould make us beha 
unwiselv sometimes?— Mrs. Kirkland 
Be always frank and true; spurn every 
sort of affection and disguise. Have the 
courage to confess your ignorance and awk¬ 
wardness. Confide your faults and follies 
to but few. 
If parents would render their childr; 
happy and wealthy, they should early i 
culcate in them a desire for, and a know 
edge of, labor, both manual and raent 
brats should be left to seek knowledge at 
random. The gutters will answer for their 
“ Pierian spring.” They may learn the al¬ 
phabet by reading the large letters on shop¬ 
keepers’ signs, and progress by reading the 
fine type of stolen newspapers, and the 
comic anecdotes of antiquated and cast¬ 
away almanacs. In short, they may have 
the liberty of the great thoroughfares and 
the by-ways of the world; may pick up or 
pilfer the hard joints of knowledge as dogs 
do bones in the street, or here and there a 
rich bite at a lucky moment, from a butch¬ 
er’s stall; but not a crumb that falls from the 
parochial table shall these little Lazaruses 
be suffered to touch. Thus the benevolent 
friends of parochial schools would humane¬ 
ly break the trundles off our 1! little cradles 
of democracy”—the free schools—and fat¬ 
ten the mental sucklings of the community 
by the nourishing qualities of sectarian pap. 
An ardent sensibility to the impressions 
of great virtues and abilities, accompanied 
with generous oblivion of the little imper¬ 
fections with which they are joined, is one 
of the surest indications of a superior char¬ 
acter. 
In all things study moderation, a virtue 
more difficult than it appears, but more 
necessary than any other. Think not how¬ 
ever that anything base can be ennobled by 
moderation. 
Let your watch words be constant ac¬ 
tivity and daily contemplation of yourself 
and the ways of God. T hese will guard 
you against every false step. 
Weigh every step that you are about 
to take, whenever passions become involv¬ 
ed. How often do things assume a dif¬ 
ferent aspect, when they are fairly con¬ 
sidered. _ 
Let our repentance be a lively will, a 
firm resolution. Complaints and mourning | 
over past errors avail nothing. • 
