MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTU UAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
iltb cell an cotta. 
THOUGHTS ON WRITING, 
Few young people are aware of the ad¬ 
vantages derived from writing. It gives a 
refinement and polish to the mind, an ac¬ 
curacy and form to thought, in which the 
manners and character of the individual 
can but participate. The mind of every 
person is pregnant with ideas. These, un¬ 
cultivated, are but a jumbled and confused 
mass, of little benefit to the possessor, and 
certainly none to others. But give them 
shape, culture and expression, and a soul 
gleams through them to influence all with¬ 
in its radiance. 
Ideas produce ideas, and their cultiva¬ 
tion gives nobleness to mind. When we 
commit our thoughts to paper, even in let¬ 
ters to our most intimate friends, we al¬ 
ways endeavor to express them in as clear, 
concise, and elegant a manner as possible. 
Much as we may use absurd and unrefined 
terms in our conversation, we dislike to see 
them in writing. To write well, we must 
think well; and thinking well naturally en¬ 
genders acting well. The more we write, 
the more natural, easy, and impressive will 
be our language. The more we think, the 
more truthfulness and wisdom will our 
thoughts contain. 
But these are not all of the advantages 
of writing. It will be a pleasure and a 
pastime which will fill up admirably many 
a vacant hour. It diverts and relaxes the 
mind from the more engrossing cares and 
concerns of life; enabling it to regain its 
natural tone and vigor without engender¬ 
ing a distaste for the usefulnes of labor, or 
debasing the moral principles. It turns the 
mind in upon itself, strengthening and for¬ 
tifying it against the vicissitudes of fortune. 
It enables us to read with a deeper inter¬ 
est the writings of others; and as we draw 
comparisons between their ideas and our 
own, diverging from the original track, they 
assume a new embodiment from which we 
are enabled to draw correct and decisive 
conclusions. We look around us with a 
feeling of new life and buoyancy of spirit, 
as if each part of inanimate creation had 
suddenly been endowed with a language of 
its own. As if by the touch of magic, it 
gives a beauty, and a sublimity to the most 
common-place events. b. a. m’n. 
Royalton, N. Y., 1851. 
ARAB HOSPITALITY. 
A well-known Arabian horse-stealer 
once related as follows, what had befallen 
him in the desert: 
“ I once, as I was astray in the desert, 
came to a tribe of Bedouins. They receiv- 
me with great hospitality, and killed a cam¬ 
el every day on my account. I prayed 
them not to put themselves to such incon¬ 
venience, but to let me depart. Still they 
would not suffer me to go, and every day 
they killed a camel. At length, one day I 
got an opportunity, drove off a fleet came), 
mounted it and went away with all speed. 
The owner, who saw me going off with his 
camel, mounted and pursued me. When 
he had brought me back, he pointed to a 
snake that was lying in the sand. 
‘ Seest thou,’ said he, ‘ the tail of that 
snake there? I will hit it with this arrow.’ 
He shot and the arrow pierced the tail. 
* And with this arrow,’ said he as he 
drew forth a second, 1 I will hit his head.’ 
He shot the snake’s head in two. 
‘ Thou seest now,’ said he, ‘ with the third 
arrow I should not miss thy breast, and 
thou dost deserve it for rewarding our hos¬ 
pitality with flight and robbery—but since 
thou art our guest, go hence in God’s name, i 
and choose twenty camels more to take 
with thee.’ ” 
EAD TEMPER. 
It is martyrdom to be obliged to live 
with one of a complaining temper. To hear 
the eternal round of complaint and mourn¬ 
ing, to have every pleasant thought scared 
away by this evil spirit, is in time a sore 
trial. It seems nothing, but it is a perpet¬ 
ual nettle, always rubbing against you, and 
irritating and annoying you more than the 
severest injuries. Worst of all is a bad 
temper in the home. Its influence is irre¬ 
sistibly diffused through all its members. 
The sunniest temper is by degrees soured 
by the presence of such a person. 
You may say that one ought not to feel 
the bad temper of another, but it would be 
equally reasonable to lay a plaster of Span¬ 
ish flies upon the skin, and not expect it to 
draw. One string out of tune will destroy 
the music of an instrument otherwise per¬ 
fect. One uncomfortable temper in a fam¬ 
ily will, like a raw north east wind, chill the 
whole family circle, and seems to have pow¬ 
er to penetrate into every room of the house. 
ton 
H)n,^ 
A SCOTTISH BALLAD. 
BY ROBERT BURNS. 
John Anderson, my jo, Jolin, 
When Nature first began 
To try her canny hand, John, 
Her master work was man: 
And you, ainang them a’ John, 
So trig from top to toe. 
You proved to be no journey-work. 
Joint Anderson, my jo. 
John Anderson, my jo, John, 
Ye were my first conceit; 
I think nae shame to own, John, 
I lo’ed ye ear’ and late; 
They say ye're turning auld, John, 
And what though it be so, 
Ye’er aye the same kind man to me, 
John Anderson, my jo. 
John Anderson, my jo, John, 
When first we were acquaint, 
Your locks were like the raven, 
Your honny brow was brent; 
But now your brow is bald, John, 
Your locks are like the snow, 
But blessings on your frosty pow, 
John Anderson, my jo, 
John Anderson, my jo, John, 
We clamb the hill thegither, 
And many a canty day, John, 
We’ve had wi’ ane anither; 
TRUE COURTESY. 
We have forgotten (or never knew) who 
it is that speaks of the “ small sweet court¬ 
esies of life,”* but the term is as true as it 
is felicitous. There are such courtesies, and 
the habitual employment of them is the 
surest evidence of a good heart as well as 
refined manners. 
“ I never look,” said a benevolent lady to 
a friend walking down Broadway one morn¬ 
ing, “ at a deformed person in the street, 
except directly in the face. How many a 
pang has been caused to the physically un¬ 
fortunate by a lingering glance at a de¬ 
formed limb, a ‘ marked’ face, or other 
physical defect, to a scrutiny of which the 
afflicted are so painfully sensitive!” There 
was a tenderness, a humanity in this remark, 
and therefore it was recorded at the time, 
as being worthy, not only of remembrance, 
but of heedful regard and emulation. Yes; 
and that woman would leave the arm of 
her husband in the street, and push from 
off the sidewalk with her little foot a piece 
of orange-peel, peach-skin, or other the like 
slippery obstruction, lest somebody should 
step upon it, slide, fall, and break or dislo¬ 
cate a limb. 
“ These are little things to speak of,” the 
reader may say, and they are; but still, 
they are “ close devotements, working/rom 
the heart ” that with such an one, a too com¬ 
mon selfishness, or indifference to the good 
of others, “ does not rule ."— Harpers' 
Magazine. 
* Wa, Wirt, in a letter to his daughter.— Ed. Rural. 
TALK ABOUT TALKERS. 
Good talkers are about as rare as the 
black swan of the Roman proverb. Great 
talkers are as abundant—common as lying 
among lawyers, perjury among smugglers, 
or extortion among cabmen. But a good 
talker is a different thing. In the first 
place grammar must be unexceptionable— 
though too much nicety of phrase is worse 
than occasional carelessness. Secondly, he 
talks on proper subjects, at suitable times 
and places. Thirdly, he talks in alow tone, 
and only raises his voice with the spirit of 
his topic. 
Wit is not important to a good talker, 
though a spice of humor is, and good sense 
is indespensable. Adaptation to persons 
and occasions is a great point, and the want 
of it a glaring defect in many otherwise 
good talkers. They discuss very eloquent¬ 
ly of books to ignoramuses, of balls to 
devotees, of philosophy to women, and of 
science to sailors. They talk politics at the 
opera, describe a funeral at a pic nic, and 
crack jokes on hemp before people who 
have lost relations by hanging. To editors 
they offer improvements in the art of con¬ 
ducting a newspaper—to ministers (unsus¬ 
pectingly) diatrabes on the immorrality of 
the clergy, and to lawyers (but that is not 
much amiss) excellent homilies on the kna¬ 
very of the bar. To think well needs more 
than a ready wit and a nimble tongue.— 
Boston Post. 
Now we maun totter down, John, 
But hand in hand we’ll go, 
And sleep thegither at the foot, 
John Anderson, my jo. 
JOHN ANDERSON TO HIS JEAN. 
BY MRS. J. WEEB. 
Air, — John Anderson my jo. 
Oh, Jean! it seems but yesterday, 
Since light as any fawn. 
Ye tripprd in virgin bashfulness 
Across the flowery lawn; 
And bright your golden hair waved, 
That Time hath strewn wi’ snaw; 
Yet still ye wear youth’s winning smile. 
Though youth’s bright morn’s awa. 
Though your eye l>e no sac clear, Jean, 
As when in youthful prime, 
Sae sweetly, sae confidingly, 
Its melting glance met mine; 
Though passion’s hour has fled, Jean, 
And cauld our pulses be; 
Your mellowed look o’ kindly love, 
Still gently beams on me. 
And though the grave’s white blossoms, Jean, 
Are scattered on your brow, 
And in life’s glass the ebbing sands 
Are wasted thin and low; 
No change our hearts can knew, Jean, 
But, lang as life shall last, 
We’ll gild our hopes o’ future bliss 
Wi’ memories o’ the past. 
THE NORMAN RACE. 
The beauty of the Normans is a proverb 
over the world. Nor has the universal ad¬ 
miration which has been bestowed upon it, 
in the slightest degree exaggerated its lofty 
and exquisite character. The men, in their 
way, are as handsome, as the women. They 
have the fine oval, sedate, bright eyes, and 
clear complexion of the old race. You look 
in vain for evidence of their Teutonic de¬ 
scent in their sculptured features; the skin 
and hair suggesting a reminiscence of their 
Saxon ancestry. The women are remark¬ 
able for the natural dignity of their carriage, 
which harmonizes strikingly with their tall 
and commanding figures, and the grave re¬ 
serve of their expressions. Like the men. 
the faces are oval, with the slightly aqui¬ 
line nose, large flashing eyes, and curved 
lips. 
Their complexions are peculiarly trans¬ 
parent, the cheeks mantling over with a 
blush, rich in color, but delicate in its dif¬ 
fusion. A smile sits in their eyes, but the 
most inquisitive observer cannot detect in 
their looks or manners, the remotest indi¬ 
cation of levity. A sweet seriousness is 
their predominant characteristic. It is 
strange enough to an Englishman to meet 
groups of these people, men and women, 
re-producing before our eyes that famous 
Norman head with whitk-Nve are all so fa¬ 
miliar. It carries us back at once to the 
eleventh century. Wherever we turn, we 
see, as in a magic glass, William the Con¬ 
queror moving up the streets and high¬ 
ways.— Bentley's Miscellany. 
A PHILADELPHIA QUAKER. 
A certain “Friend,” says the New York 
Gazette, whom we very well know, was re¬ 
cently at a distant place of summer resort. 
He stepped into the post-office one morning, 
and while there the post-master iisked him 
if he knew any English people staying at 
the hotel? 
“Why does thee ask?” said the Quaker. 
“ Because,” said the postmaster, “ here 
are half a dozen letters directed to England 
by the next steamer, and as the postage to 
Boston is not paid, I cannot send theml If 
I cannot find the writers of them, they will 
be forwarded to the dead letter office at 
Washington.” 
Our “Friend” looked at the letters.— 
They were all double, and he remarked: 
“ They appear to be family letters, and 
no doubt will be most welcome if received, 
or may cause great anxiety if they should 
not be.” 
“ I cannot help it,” said the post-master. 
“Well, lean, if thee cannot; what is the 
postage ?” 
“ For six double letters, three dollars.” 
“ Well, here is the money; thee will please 
mark the letters ‘ paid,’ and send them to 
Boston.” 
And with the injunction the Philadelphia 
Quaker left the post-office, his pockets not 
quite so heavy as when he entered, but bis 
heart we are sure, a great deal lighter. 
TO PARENTS. 
How to Spoil a Boy. — Dress him in 
fine broadcloth, give him a watch, let his 
boots be superfine, and buy him a horse, 
and a pistol. Tell him to stay at home from 
school a day if the teacher has reproved 
him, and suffer him to change his school 
every quarter. Give him segar money 
twice a week, and let him contradict you as 
often as he pleases, and say “I wont” to 
his mother, as often as she commands him. 
Be sure to let him attend all shows and cir¬ 
cuses, and permit him to go where men are 
gambling; let him stay out at night till 12 
o’clock, and leave the door unlocked, and 
the candle burning for his accommodation. 
If you are rich, be sure to explain the mat¬ 
ter often, and tell hi in he is “ above” sueh 
and such boys. Encourage him in wrest¬ 
ling and turning somersets; send him to all 
“ turkey shoots,” and let him keep a cock 
and a dog for fighting. And, above all 
things, do not forget to say before him of¬ 
ten, that “ all things are good in their places, 
and moderate drinking is respectable;” and, 
if after all your training, he should not grow’ 
up a coarse, disagreeable, purse proud, over¬ 
bearing boob}’, give him up—there is no 
help for him. 
RULES FOR LIVING, 
Communicate your principles only to 
those who are animated by similar views. 
Do not assail the prevailing doctrines of re¬ 
ligion. You will convince no one who does 
not convince himself. The reformation of 
the world advances at a slow pace; let time 
perform her work. All projects of sudden 
enlightenment have proved abortive. 
Never engage in so-ca)led religious dis¬ 
putes, break off such a conversation as soon 
as an opportunity of doing so is presented. 
Neglect not the body, on which your 
whole earthly existence depends. Inform 
yourself of what is beneficial, and what is 
pernicious to it. Despise it not; but on the 
other hand also consider what an inert, use¬ 
less and mouldering mass it is, as soon as 
it lacks life, its animating principle. 
Let the object of your life be improve¬ 
ment in what is good. All is good which 
contributes to the health of your own body 
and mind, and that of others. 
The good man contributes to the welfare 
of others not alone by positive act and in¬ 
struction ; but his life resembles a fruit bear¬ 
ing shade tree, by which each passer by 
finds shelter and refreshment, which disin¬ 
terestedly and even involuntarily scatters 
happy germs upon the surrounding soil— 
whereby it produces what is like and sim¬ 
ilar to itself. 
GOV. BRIGGS ON BACHELORS. 
Gov. Briggs delivered an address recent¬ 
ly before the State Normal School, at Al¬ 
bany, which is described as being “ full of 
humor, anecdote, happy illustrations, and a 
sound argument in favor of free education. 
It was mainly an unwritten and unprepared 
effort, but well stored with good sense, and 
moral instructions.” Towards the close, 
he gave the-“old bachelors” a scoring, par¬ 
ticularly that class of them who grumble at 
being taxed for educating other people’s 
children. We quote his language—“Ami 
to be. taxed to support children not my 
j own?” grumbles the old bachelor. “ Cer- 
i tainly.” “ But I have no children of my 
j own.” “ So much the worse, you ought to 
I have them.” “ But I have no wife.” “ Bad 
j again; you ought to have a wife, and chil- 
| dren, which are also necessary ; you deserve 
to be doubly taxed. Go and present your 
case to some good lady, as one fit for her 
sympathy, and if you are tieserving of it, 
you will certainly find it.” 
American Gentlemen, says Lady Stuart, 
in her Travels, look like gentlemen, not be¬ 
cause they have lemon colored kid gloves, 
or Parisian boots, but from thefr whole air 
and manner. As to being merely well 
dressed in the cost-and-quality-csf-material 
sense of tiie word, that almost every body 
is. A mob in the United States, is a mob 
of broadcloth. If we talk of a rabble in a 
Republic, it is a rabble in black silk waist¬ 
coats, (the favorite wear among certain clas¬ 
ses in America,) and well brushed hats.— 
Therefore, to look really like a gentleman 
in the United States, depends in nowise on 
the clothes, but entirely upon the wearer; 
and the tailor has less to do with manufac¬ 
turing a gentleman here, than in perhaps 
any other part of the world. For in all 
other countries you are a little assisted to 
the conclusion, unwittingly, by the dress; 
but here, not in the least, and you must 
judge wholly by I'air noble et distingue, or 
the reverse, of the individual. 
Origin of the word Dollar. — In 1516 
a silver mine was discovered in St. Joachim’s 
Thai (or dale,) in Bohemia, the proprietor 
of which issued a great number of silver 
pieces which were called Joachim’s thaler, 
afterwards corrupted into dollar. 
General, abstract truth is the most pre¬ 
cious of all blessings; without it man is 
blind; it is the eye of reason.— Rousseau. 
Some reserve is a debt to prudence, as 
freedom and simplicity of conversation is a 
debt of good-nature. — Shenstone. 
PHOEBE PHILLIPS. 
The secret pleasure of a generous net 
Is the gieat mind's great bribe.— Dryder. 
Piioere Foxcroft, afterwards the wife < 
of Samuel Phillips, the joint founder, with I 
his uncle, of the academy at Andover, [ 
Massachusetts, was a native of Cambridge, < 
in the same State. Reared beneath the 5 
shades of “ Old Harvard” and being the ! 
daughter of a man of wealth and high re- < 
spectability.it is almost needless to say that < 
she was well educated and highly refined. \ 
To mental attainments she added the finish- 1 
ing charm of female character, glowing i 
piety. The last forty years or more of her ! 
life were passed at Andover, where, after 1 
the deatli of her husband, she assisted in ' 
founding the celebrated Theological Semi¬ 
nary. She died in 1818. 
It is said that she was accustomed, for 
years, to make the health of every pupil in 
the academey a subject of personal interest. 
Her attentions to their wants were impar¬ 
tial and incalculably beneficial. To those 
that came from remote towns, and were 
thus deprived of parental oversight, she 
acted the part of a faithful mother. 
Affectionate, kind, generous, watchful, as 
a Christian guardian; she was unbending, 
self-sacrificing and “zealous, yet modest,” 
as a patriot. During the seven years’strug¬ 
gle for freedom, she frequently sat up till 
midnight or past, preparing bandages and 
scraping lint for the hospitals and making 
garments for the ragged soldiers. 
An offender of justice was once passing 
her house on his way to the whipping-post, 
when a boy, who observed him from her 
window, could not withhold a tear. He 
tried to conceal his emotion, but Mrs. Phil¬ 
lips saw the pearl drop of pity, and while a 
kindred drop fell from her own eyes, she 
said to him, with much emphasis and as 
though laying down some golden maxim — 
“ W hen you become a law maker, examine 
the subject ot corporeal punishment, and 
see if it is not unnatural, vindictive and pro¬ 
ductive of much evil.” She was very dis¬ 
criminating, and could detect talent as well 
as tears; and addressed the lad with a pre¬ 
monition that he was destined to become a 
legislator—which was indeed the case.— 
Elected to the Assembly of the State, with 
the sacred command of his early and re¬ 
vered mentor impressed on his memory, he 
early called the attention of that body to 
the subject of corporeal punishment; had 
the statue book revised a^d the odious law, 
save in capital offences, expunged, and the 
pleasure of announcing the fact to the ori¬ 
ginal suggestor of the movement. — Noble 
Deeds of American Women. 
THE WIVES. 
It is astonishing to see how well a man 
may live on a small income, who has a han¬ 
dy and industrious wife. Some men live 
and make a far better appearance on ten or 
twelve dollars a week, than others do on 
sixteen or eighteen dollars. The man does 
his part well; but. the woman is good for 
nothing. She will ever upbraid her hus¬ 
band for not living in as good style as her 
neighbor, while the fault is entirely her own. 
His neighbor has a neat, capable and indus¬ 
trious wife, and that makes the difference. 
Hi8 wife, on the other hand, is a whirlpool, 
into which a great many silver cups might 
be thrown, and the appearance of the wa¬ 
ter remain unchanged. No Nicholas, the 
diver, is there to restore the wasted treas¬ 
ure. It it is only an insult for such a wo¬ 
man to talk to her husband about her love 
and devotion; it is all gammon. 
7 O 
THB MAID OF ATHENS. 
A recent traveler describes the “ Maid 
of Athens,” immortalized in Byron’s verse, 
as “still retaining no inconsiderable share 
of beauty, which is the more remarkable 
in a country where good looks vanish, and 
age arrives so speedily. Indeed, good looks 
at all are rare among the continental Greek 
women; the celebrated beauties being 
islanders, and chiefly Hydriotes.” She 
married an Englishman, and bears the un- 
poetical name of Mrs. Black. She was at¬ 
tired in her coquettish native costume, con¬ 
sisting of a red fez, profusely ornamented 
with gold embroidery, placed on one side 
of the head; a long flowing silk petticoat, 
and a close dark velvet jacket. She is said 
to be of a rather retiring disposition, and 
not at all disposed to vaunt herself as the 
object of Byron’s transient admiration. 
How to Spoil a Girl.— Tell her she is 
a “ little lady,” and must not run, and make 
her a sun bonnet a yard deep to keep her 
from tanning. Do not let her play with her 
boy cousins, “ they are so rude.” Tell her 
not to speak loud it is so masculine; and 
that loud laughing is quite ungenteel.— 
Teach her music, but never mind her spel¬ 
ling. Give her ear rings, and finger-rings, 
at six years of age; and teach her to “ set 
her cap” for the beaux at 11. And, if af¬ 
ter your pains-taking, she does no grow up 
a silly, simpering, unreflecting nobody, that 
cannot answer a love-letter without some 
smart old aunt to help her, give her up— 
she is past all remedy.— III. True Dem. 
