MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTU HAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
SPARE MY FLOWERS 
Stranger hand, O lie not rude 
To my little flowering brood, 
I have nurtured them with care, 
Still you may their riches share ; 
But contented you should he. 
Thus to share their bloom with me, 
I would give you half my store, 
If you’d never ask for more. 
Thou mayest all their beauties know, 
Whi’e upon their stems they grow -, 
And with slow and cautious tread 
Circling round my flower-bed, 
Thou mayest learn each name to tell 
Of the flowers we love so well. 
Leave them then to bloom awhile 
On their own dear native soil •, 
Soon at least they’ll fade away— 
Little flowers so bright and gay, 
And no more our hearts illume 
With their variegated bloom. 
Stranger hand then let them live, 
Incense to the Giver give, 
Speechless praise, a priceless boon. 
To the great Eternal One. 
Clayrnout.t Farm, 1951 
THE LENT PAPER. 
“ John, what has become of last week’s 
paper ?” inquired Mrs. C-, ot her hus¬ 
band. 
“Surely, wife, I cannot tell; it was 
brought from the office I think.” 
“ Yes; James brought it home on Sat¬ 
urday evening; but neighbor N- and 
that he would have to do without a paper 
soon. 
“ No you won’t,” said James C-, in a 
loud tone of voice, “ for mother sent on 
two dollars more for you last week.” 
“Well done, Jim!” shouted a dozen 
voices, while a simultaneous roar of laugh¬ 
ter ran along the line of teamsters. 
N-, who had, previous to this an- 
wite being here, he laid it on the parlor nouncemen t > been remarkably cheerful and 
lfl ble. talkative, became suddenly silent, while a 
“Oh, N has got the paper; Ire- de ret i C 0 l 0 r, the emblem of shame, man - 
member now of lending it to him.” ded bis brow. This was a good lesson for 
“1 am very sorry for that; I think you __ 
do very wrong, husband in lending the pa- g, the next morning he went and 
pers before we have read their. He who - d Mrs. q -the four dollars, acknowl- 
takes a paper and pays for it, is certainly edo . ed bis error, and was never known 
entitled to the first perusal of it. after to take less than two weekly papers. 
» Y es; but N-- asked me to lend it _ Maine Farmer ^ 
to him, and how could I refuse so kind and _ 
obliging a neigi bor ? I am sure he would 
; lend me his, if lie took one, and I should 
want to borrow.” Some dcc 
ant to borrow.” Some people seem to worry out exis- 
“ Don’t N- take a paper?” inquired tence. They have external means of en- 
rs. 0-with surprise. joyment, yet they are never at ease. A 
EgfZSZTZ .. Mrs C— with surprise. joyment, yet they are never at ease. A 
Speechless praise, a priceless boon, “.No.” lady of this character, whose ability to pro- 
To the great Eternal One. “Why not? He is, as he says, always cure every outward enjoyment was fully 
ciaymount Farm, 1851 s - L - very fond of reading.” within her reach, was lately congratulated 
tvtfmor v ~ “Yes; bul he seems t0 think upon her freedom from all vexations and 
__ ‘ unable to pay for one.” annoying trials. “ Why,” said she, “ I am 
T . . f ,-<• • _ “Unable! He is certainly as able as we full of trouble—I am always in a worry 
In everv vicissitude ot life tliere is a . , J ,, J r r 
J i • • i are - He pays a much larger tax, and he about Sam; when he returns from sea, I 
power—a deathless power that inspires the j g a i most always bragging of bis superior can enjoy nothing, because I know he is 
human mind with a strange clairvoyance, as calt | e and—” going again; when he is at sea, I am always 
it were; so to its every fancy clings a brillian- “Hush, wife! It is wrong to speak of expecting to hear he is dead, or cast away 
cy and warmth of energy that never can our neighbors’faults behind their backs.— on some desolate island.” Yet “ Sam” was 
bo dissiDated. We are often called upon to He promised to return the paper to-day.” „ ot | ier husband, but an adopted nephew, 
.... u j “J hope he will. It contains an excel- ulK)n whom so much sympathy was lavish- 
part with dear and loving friends, are called j ent artic | c t b at I desire much to read.” e d. Another friend I could name, is always 
to mingle in the .eventful scenes that cum- Mrg c - was an excellent lady, and “tried” or “worried” with her domestic 
berlife; but as time flits by and shadowy p ro bably possessed as liberal feelings as troubles. “ Bridget got up late,” or “ Sal- 
hours hang pall like over the sun of exist- her peace-loving husband; but she could not ly goes out too often,” or “ Ned is beco:n- 
ence it is not ours to be forgetful of such believe it to be their duty to furnish a free >ng a careless driver.” And between seek- 
friends,-such incidents in the grand drama pap"* 0 ^ir more wealthy, yet covetous mg comfort and finding it, lde becomes a 
neighbor. very wearisome affair, and is entirely tret- 
of active, comp lcate i e. eais wi la ^-had formerly taken a paper; but ted away in relating troubles tbat have 
their leagued events, cannot dull the mem- linking jj, too expensive, to the no small been lived over. 
ory that one holds of a friend departed. discomfiture of his wife and little ones, he What a pity it is that we are so forget- 
THE SPIRIT OF MEMORY. 
In every vicissitude of life there is a 
) power—a deathless power that inspires the 
human mind with a strange clairvoyance, as 
it were; so to its every fancy clings a brillian¬ 
cy and warmth of energy that never can 
be dissioated. We are often called upon to 
) hours hang pall like over the sun of exist- 
> ence, it is not ours to be forgetful of such 
\ friends,—such incidents in the grand drama 
\ of active, complicated life. Years with all 
their leagued events, cannot dull the mem¬ 
ory that one holds of a friend departed. 
There is a silent voice within us, that had ordered its discontinuance. He how- 
speaks of friends, of hope and of heaven, ever, dearly loved to read, and had, fur a 
.. T • „ j__„ „„ year or mure, been in the habit ot sending 
Wearily as time may wear .way-deep as J dW«™bl« errand <3 
What a pity it is that we are so forget¬ 
ful of the great laws of inward peace, as to 
brood over the past, talk about its evils, 
and thus make them ever present to our 
thoughts. There was much in the philoso- 
vvearuy a* u.uo may *< jj tt i e Jue » 0 n the disagreeable errand of thoughts. There was much m the pbiloso- 
may be the solitude of life, however charm- borrowing 0 ]j papers of bis neighbors. phy of a divine, who said, “ When I have 
less the fancies of the soul—yet there is, j^ rg q_ _waited patiently during the lived over a trouble, I try to use it aright, 
actual and active, a spirit within us that day, expecting soon to see little Joe com- and then to forget it. When my domes- 
) cannot be controlled. Too much of the past ing with the paper; but the day passed, as l ' cs P' a o lie m y ' v '^ e » , a ? s P at le . r on 
, . . . , . . . liL-,.wiua did the evening and no naner the shoulder, and turn the conversation; 
combines with the visions ot the heai t- likewise did the evening, and no paper ^ g the M of enduring was enough 
visions not confined to the sense of sight - ^ next morni after breakfast, she at the time, I want no omnipresent troubles.” 
alone, but to every sense that unites the wag lu . artl tQ _° Then there is another class who are al- 
spirit with the world: — A dear and faithful “ Well, John, the paper has not been re- ways “worried about what no human 
alone, but to every sense that unites the 
spirit with the world: — A dear and faithful 
about what no human 
^ friend lias died. We have seen the last turned yet.” 
death-struggle,— we have gazed upon the “ Ah, indc 
pallid lips, the cold and lifeless brow hung 
turned yet.” * foresight can prevent. An eaiterly wind 
“ Ah, indeed; I guess neighbor N- a hot day, a sudden shower, a dene fog, or 
has either forgotten his promise or is absent a heavy dew, All alike vex them. . Al ow ing 
r . , . . , T , , i from home,” replied C-. -— o . - » 
/ with its panan drapery. It may have been „ j think „ ghe continU ed, “ we had better us very disagreeable companions 
ours to have received the dying farewell— gen( j j ames a f ler j t- ” would select such an one tor a t 
to have wmn by our tears the last hallowed « Would it not be best, wife, to wait un- friend! —who would take such an 
smile of friendship, as if it were the golden til afternoon ? N-may return it before life? When a man considers hov 
l , . . . , • , . . . , f L a t time ” his' comfort is concerned with hi 
} chain that unites angels with spirit-mortals, mat, time. i.. af u him throu 
, 1T , . . & , i i • i l “As you think best, was the mild reply, temper, how she leans mm mt u 
I We have taken the snowy hand palsied by . , , , , . „ ' ' r0UL rh places with violent or gentl 
such things to prey upon the spirits makes 
send James after it.” 
“ Would it not be best, wife, to wait un- 
vvould select such an one for a traveling 
friend! — who would take such an one for 
,ve nave ta.ven u.e ^ wa ited until nearly dark, but no 
decay, yet we have felt it tremble in ours p a p er ma de its appearance. James, a smart 
its almost forbidden adieu; and, as death | a d of ten years, was now instructed to pro¬ 
caine, we have watched the calm, mild eye ceed to neighbor N-’s, and get the pa- 
close its rayless lid, and, gently as a beau- P er - He soon arrived and made known his 
teous llower folds m its sunset dream, so did «™lf »f JJ"7 politely '..formed 
that it was lent to U-, the blacksmith, 
it sink to its holy lepose. w j lo jj ve( j half a mile further on. James, 
Another scene—We have heard the unwilling to return home without it, not- corne tbe agreeable gentleman. Yet upon 
muffled bell breathe from its quivering withstanding the lateness of the hour, con- 
tongue the solemn knell, and the breathless tinued on to the blacksmith’s. 
air has borne it like sighs from the bosom , U d “f k wh<:n , he arrived ,- t > ut 
vi i . , , . he soen made his business known, and was 
ot sorrow, I he sweet light has faded in informed by Mrs . R.-, lh at “little sis 
the shades of melancholy,. and nature’s got hold of the paper and tore it all up.” 
THE HEROINE OF SHELL’S BUSH. 
BY J. CLEMENT. 
k 
k 
I or the Rural New-Yorker. [ dare do all that may become a man. 
THE BIRD OF THE WAY. Who dare do more, is none.—S hakspeark. 
Bird of the soaring wing, sportive and bright, For three-fourths of a century, there has 
Where is ihy resting place—whither thy flight ? been a wealthy settlement of Germans four 
Poised on the airy wing through the long day, Qr live mi | es norlh of the village of Herki- 
Soaring on, soaring on, soaring away. . . , -S- , • i 
up to the golden orb, star-lighted dome, mer > ln the u PP er P art ot the Mohawk val- 
Bird of the wild wing, where is thy home ? lc} 7 ’ called Shell’s Bush. Among* the early 
Say, hast thou e’er, in thy wanderings long, s ^ rs > was Johl1 Christian Shell, who had 
Found the dream of the Poet, the heaven of his song ? a family oi .six brave sons and a no less 
The mountain of glory, where the seeker of fame brave wife. Wlien, on the SlXtll of August, 
Inscribes on its summit, his high-sounding name? 1781, a Scotch refugee namedDonald Mc- 
Or a valley where mortals roam careless and free ? , . ,, . , , c ■ . • , ■ _ 1 
... . Dona d, at the head of sixty-six tones and 
Bird of the soaring wing tell it to me. ’ . J . 
Indians, attacked that settlement, Mrs. obeli 
Bird of the free wing, sportive and pure, acted the part of an heroic dame. The 
Some flowering vale where the lone and oppressed, house was built loi border emergencies, 
Can pause from their wanderings at peace and at rest, and when the enemy approached, the llUS- 
o tell, for thou joumeyest oft through the skies, band and older boys* tied from the iields, 
Is there such rest in yon bright Paradise ? entered their castle, and strongly barricad- 
Lightly and freely the bird of the way, e( l the doors. From tWO o’clock in the 
Trilled from its heart forth a wild joyous lay. afternoon until twilight, the besieged kept 
Of the pleasures of life, of contentment and love , . ° .. . ,1 
if the heart was but true, and still looking above- U P an almost incessant bring, Mrs. bhell 
Of lands more enchanting, than to poet dreams given loading the guns lor her husblllld clTld older 
And a haven of rest for the weary in Heaven. SOUS to discharge. During the siege, Mc- 
_ . _ A - Donald attempted to force the door with a 
KNOWLEDGE vs. ACCOMPLISHMENT. urow bar > antl was s * lot | n , tbe ^ e o> 
. - I by Shell and drawn within doors. Ex- 
Why is found so great a lack of general asperated at this bold feat, the enemy soon 
and thorough education among a portion of a ttempted to carry the fortress by assault, 
the women of community? Is it because fi , ve of *■»” j'W >>P™ ,‘ h f walls and 
, . . . . ...... . thrusting their guns through the loopholes. 
they are deficient in natural abilities and Afc that 1 moment the cool and courageous 
powers of reasoning, that all most useful woman seized an axe, smote the barrels 
and important in the culture of the mind and bent and spoiled them. Her husband 
should be neglected, and the ornamental then resorted to stratagem to drive the 
only thought worth the seeking? No; it besiegers away: running up stairs and cal- 
. . . ° , . . , , ling to Mrs. Shell in a very loud voice, he 
is notthis, for womans nature is richly en- Mi § tha$ Captain Small was approaching 
dowed, and she may become a rational, in- wil h help from Fort Dayton. Then raising 
telligent and reasoning being; but these his voice to its highest pitch, he exclaimed, 
powers are perverted—the noblest energies “Captain Small, march your company 
of the mind prostrated, and submissive to r0lll td upon this side of the house. Captain 
1 fruhniin van Karl hpttpr whvial vmir mvn 
KNOWLEDGE vs. ACCOMPLISHMENT. 
the all powerful ruler—fashion. 
Getman, you had better wheel your men 
off to the left, and come up upon that side.” 
The first lessons the young girl receives Fearing the phantom troops whom Mr. 
on entering the school room, relates to her Shell’s imagination had conjured, the ene- 
inanners and appearance—these are duly 
canvassed and corrected as needs be. And, 
my shouldered their guns—crooked bar¬ 
reled and all—and quickly buried them¬ 
selves in the dense forest. —Noble Deeds 
as years roll on, and she advances into 0 y American Women. 
womanhood, she discovers that the pre- * Thet oyoungeBt bo 
* The t o youngest hoys, who were twins and 
dominant qualification With community IS a about eight years old, were captured, and when the 
_ , . . enemy fled, they were carried away as prisoners. 
graceful appearance, a glittering exterior, _ _ _ 
and no wonder if she devote all her energy COURAGE OF WOMAN, 
to polishing the casket, while the mind, the 
’ ... . ,, , , • . , There is a branch ot general education 
gem within, remains all rough, uncultivated .. . . . , . . °,, 
° ’ ° which is not thought at all necessary for 
and obscure. If the young women would women —as regards which, indeed, it is well 
til afternoon? N-may return it before Ife? When a man considers how much 
that time.” bis' comfort is concerned with his wife s 
“As you think best,” was the mild reply, temper, how she leads him through life 8 
They waited until nearly dark, but no rough,places with violent or gentle ham, 
paper made its appearance. James, asmart before he chooses his tuture destiny, et 
lad of ten years, was now instructed to pro- him consider. Ihe embryo of a woman 
ceed to neighbor N-’s, and get the pa- is often seen in the child; petulant un- 
per. He soon arrived and made known his governable indulged child en do not always 
errand. He was very politely informed I- i se above the natural pi opensity o eat y 
that it was lent to R-, the blacksmith, years when they arrive at womanhood; 
who lived half a mile further on. James, neither does the surly, rough lad o ten be- 
exert themselves to throw off the chains of if tb ey are not brought up to cultivate the 
fashion, (more galling far than those of opposite. Women are not taught to be 
which certain reformists complain,) andde- courageous. Indeed, to some persons cour- 
, • , • , i • asze may seem as unnecessary tor women as 
vote the time which is now expended in . J . ^ J .. . ■ 
, . . . . . _ _ Latin and Greek. Yet there are few things 
adorning the person and the pursuit of a few thjU would tend t0 make woman happier in 
flimsy accomplishments, to the search after themselves, and more acceptable to others 
knowledge, truth and information, they with whom they live, than courage. So far 
would not be considered as mere parlor from courage being unfeminine, there is a 
ornaments, and butterflies of fashion’s sum- Peculiar grace and dignity in those beings, 
. who have little active powers ot attack or 
mer promenade. - 
defence, passing through danger with a 
the disposition to meet the every day dis¬ 
cipline of life depends all our enjoyments. 
THE SMILES OF INFANCY. 
Infants only a few months old are of¬ 
ten seen to smile in their sleep. The beau¬ 
ty of the superstition entertained by the 
Irish peasantry respecting this is unsur¬ 
passed in poetical conception — they believe 
melody seems to have softened to doleful- “ i’ll take the fragments,” said James, of the superstition entertained by the 
ness, when to the sunless tomb we have who was lor having nothing lost. ] ris h peasantry respecting this is unsur- 
bore our friend away. We have mingled “ H' e ', exck ‘|j ne ^ ^ ,s ‘ passed in poetical conception —they believe 
n the lone- and mournful procession —we ^ j , a ° 1 1 r i i < ir > came dia t the child is in communion with angels, 
n ivn 0 u P along here to-day, andl sold ’em with the L h as decked this idea with glorious 
have followed the night-hung hearse, and nanerraos” muvei & 
, . . t 1 U , 1 1 • I P P r 8 1 * r ••.it. , • pathos and sparkling gems of poetic fancy 
have shed our tears and breathed our sighs James, somewhat dispirited by his unsuc- [ n b is ballad of “ The Angel’s Whisper.” 
with the weeping mourners. We have cessful mission, and not being very cour- ^he mother anxiously awaiting the return 
The importance of a knowledge, of the mor . d courage which is equal to that of the 
practical branches of education was shown strongest. We see this in great things.— 
me most impressively a short time since. We pertectly appreciate the sweet and no- 
Being present at a small party where also b ^ e an Holeyn, a Maty, 
& r , , . . 7 , c Queen of Scots, or a Marie Antoinette.— 
was a young ady lust returned Irom one 77 , . ^ . .• ,. 
J \ . . We see that it is grand lor those delicately 
of the first Female Seminaries of Western hred, high-nurtured, he'pless personages to 
New York, the conversation turned upon meet death with silence and confidence.— 
some European event, which one of the But there would be a singular dignity in 
company remarked happened in France; woman’s bearing small terrors with fortitude. 
when the young student lispingly said, she There is no beauty in fear. It is a mean, 
, . , , , 1 ■ Tj. .1 ufflv, dishevelled creature. No statue can 
supposed it had transpired in Europe. And “o'Y’ ^ 
, . r _ . , f , be made ot it that a woman would wish to 
this is but one instance of hundieds whose herself like. Women are pre-eminent 
years are passed in school and study, amid j n steady endurance of tiresome suffering; 
the higher branches of learning, whilst in they need not be far behind men in becom- 
the common branches the roots of all ing courageous to meet that which is sud- 
knowledge, the young urchin of a common deu and sharp. 1 he dangei sand the troubles 
.. . , , - f u ,T too, which we may venture to say they now 
district school is far better versed, lam ’ J , , J <• .. ^ 
T start at unreasonably, are many ot them 
not an advocateof “W oman sRights, as the mere creatures of imagination—such as, in 
, ' , , . ’. , , ao-eous in the dark silently beat a hasty re- ih e mother anxiously awaiting tun term j s use d, or a disciple of Lucretia Mott, their way, disturb high-mettled animals, 
pressed around the clouded bier, and have ageous m me uartt, suemiy ueai a uabiy re Q f her husband from the sea—her deep . . r 1 t u 1 . . iihL ..j J 
^ 1 1 • .1 treat for home, where m due season, he ar- r v- u r f P . ir o hpirur an( l others of the same stamp, nor do I brought up to see too littk, and thtreiore 
seen the treasured coffin lowered m the . , , . 1.1 n ri- 1 concern tor his safety, ner lears peing ... , • . , • , .u, no( i R laaf hlnwrfacmw thp road 
rived, and reported the result of his errand. , , , . heavenlv smiles nlavinff over particularly admire the new costume which frightened at any leaf blown across tne roaa. 
irrave. ...... 11 I I -.r nusneu vy tuc y 1 . . -t Wu man hp nnitp sure that, without losino’ 
certain ladies have adopted; but I do wish 
< grave. 
\ Then came the heavy, soul-breaking 
l knells of the cold earth falling upon its 
c sounding lid, and we have felt that we 
s would be there too. With heavy hearts 
“Ah,” very composedly remarked Mr. the infant’s countenance and then her ex- 
C-, “ I suppose R-asked neighbor c i ama tion, 
brought up to see too little, and therefore 
frightened at any leaf blown^across the road. 
We may be quite sure that, without losing 
<J have we heard the solemn benediction, 
( andJiave turned from the fresh, new grave 
) to seek our joyless homes. But can we 
Lh falling upon its -to lend him the paper, and he did 
have felt that we not like to deny him. We cannot, I think, 
With heavy hearts justly accuse either of doing intentional 
solemn benediction. llnd P a P er ” 00ntinues he '“ is 
. _ , of little value.” 
he fresh, new gta\e « You may argue N.-’s case as you 
mes. But can we please,” replied Mrs. C-, “but be assur- 
forget all this? Ah, no! Too much has ed of one thing. 
mingled in our hearts —has warmed the 
founts of feeling, to thus be subject to for¬ 
getfulness. A spirit sweetly sad, awakes 
“ What is that?” said Mr. C 
evident fear. 
“Nothing, only neighbor N 
per, ana ne aiu << Ohl blessed be that warning, 
cannot, I think, My child, thy sleep adorning; 
ling intentional For l know that the angels 
intinues he, “ is Are whispering to thee!” 
has made it one of the most popular bal- 
-’s case as you j ads of the day. 
•, “but be assur- Dr. Beatte says, “ I have heard a good 
woman remark, that the innocent babe is 
Ir. C-, with favored with some glorious vision. But 
that a babe should have visions or dreams, 
N-will not before it has ideas, can hardly be imagined. 
' ‘ any of the most delicate and refined of fem- 
the young women of the age would awake jr / ne graceSj woman may be taught not to 
from their apathy and strive to become give way to unreasonable fears, which should 
what they were created for, —true, noble- belong no more to the fragile than to the 
minded women,—the highest title and rich- robust. 
est boon I dare to crave. r. m. a. \V H at we Love a Woman For. — Some 
Bristol Centre, N. Y.. June, 1851. , ... 
One Friend. — How pleasant a thing it 
is to have one friend to whom we can go 
and unbosom our feelings when the world 
is harsh with us, and darkness has settled 
What we Love a Woman For. — Some 
one speaking of a beautiful girl with great 
enthusiasm, said he almost fell in love with 
her, though her understanding was by no 
means brilliant “Pooh!” said the poet 
Goethe, laughing, “ as if love had anything 
deep dreams of thought, and we return to p CO j>i e f or 0 ld papers.” 
long be at the inconvenience of troubling This is probably the effect not of thought 
) that green grave (perchance now 
but of some bodily feeling or of some tran- 
ln about three weeks after this conver- s jent contraction or expansion of the mus- 
on the fair face of nature. At such a time to do w.th understaudiug! We love a 
a heart to advise and council with us-tlmt g"? very different things than under- 
will manifest, feelina and svmnathv. is above standmg. We love her lor her beauty, her 
old,) to weep and mourn for the departed; sation, N- was informed by the post- c i es . Certain it is, that no smiles are more 
and thus it is till we are called, and death’s master tha t he had a paper in the office.- captivating. And Providence no doubt in- 
... , . . . . ,, , He was highly pleased at this announce- tended them as a sort of silent language to 
cold hand is laid on us; then, as our souls . , . P J .. 1:1 1 , ■ -. R- ® 
/ ment, but he could not think who was so enoao-e our love; even as, by its cries, the 
shall be freed, the spirit of Love and Mem- very kind as to send him a paper. After infant is enabled to awaken our pity, and 
will manifest feeling and sympathy, is above 
all price. The out-gushings of love and 
tenderness revive and cheer us —drive away 
youth, her mirth, her confidingness, her 
character, with its faults,caprices; and God 
tenderness revive ana cneer us—anve away 7 .. . A, » . . 
sadness from the bosom, and brighten the knows whatother inexpressible charms; but 
ft 1 , who has one ,0 whom we do not love her understanding. Her 
ory, will lead us up to heaven where we many conjectures, however, he came to the command our protection.” 
shall meet our any el-friends in an unend- conclusion that it was some friend whom he --—---- 
ing blissfulness. W. H. Bristol. ass i ste( l i n former years. In England, Scotland and Wales, there 
Buffalo, May, iP5i. O ne )' ear ba< ^ P asse( l; the paper contin- j s but one voter to every 17 inhabitants; in 
-- ucd to come, and N-was still ignorant Ireland only one in eighty. 
Our evil genius, like the junior member from whence they came; bul one day at a -■ 7 _J 
of a deliberative body, always gives its “hauling,” he informed his neighbors of There are two millions of persons in Ire- 
views first. his good fortune, and expressed some fear land whose vernacular is the Irish language. 
heavens again. He who has one to whom 
he can go in the hour of adversity, can 
never be wholly cast down, earth,—dark as 
it may sometimes be, will always contain 
one bright beautiful spot; it will grow 
brighter and brighter, till the stricken deso¬ 
late heart partakes of the fullness of joy 
and is cast down no more forever. 
The hand of the diligent maketh rich. 
mind we esteem, (if it is brilliant,) and it 
may enchain us when we are already in 
love. But her understanding is not that 
which awakens and influences our passions.” 
What will the strong minded, plain woman 
say to such a heresy ? 
Avarice is always poor, but poor by her 
own fault. 
