MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTU RAL ANJ) FAMILY JOURNAL. 
eiltmcoiLS. portuaife <an~Cv Oi ograpl)ics* 3Io, 10 
THE CASCADE.-A PICTURE. 
BY w. a. C. HOSMER. 
In the fair back grounds, hemlocks tall 
Wave dark green crowns, and mantles regal, 
And from their tops, of old, the call 
Was heard of that plumed king, the Ragle. 
A cascade, in the foreground, wakes . 
Wild echo down the ledges pouring, 
And, far below, the water breaks 
Against the Tocks with sullen roaring. 
O’er earth the searching eye of day 
No brighter picture can discover 
When, born of sunshine and of spray, 
The fall a rainbow arches over. 
I love to see the temple rise 
With buttress, tower and fluted column, 
Cut dearer to a poet’s e> es 
Is leaf like this from Nature's volume. 
[Western Literary Messenger. 
AIM TO DO RIGHT. 
Aim to do right, is a golden motto — 
When first a young man begins in life, let 
him bear this before him, and wear it 
brightly on bis breast, and the evil tongues 
of envy and slander affect him not, ihe 
best principles and motives are sometimes 
scorned—but by whom?—by those who 
never have known such virtues in them- | 
selves! 
There are those who would exult over j 
the ruin of a good character, who would j 
strive by their own evil arts, to sink virtue J 
to the same level of degradation which j 
they themselves delight in; but if the j 
young man rise, and with a proud and hon¬ 
est brow, defy such human vultures, and 
with noble daring, set such at bay, there is 
no fear but his course of life ivill be suc¬ 
cessful. Good motives arise from good 
principles, and a man without them is far 
worse than a brute. The man who nurses 
envy, is virtually a fiend; but he who la¬ 
bors to do right, has an any el in his heart! 
Let those who would do wrong, still grovel 
in the -pathway of evil, and thus doing, 
curse themselves; but lie who takes de¬ 
light in doing good, let him still wear a 
wreath of sunbeams on his brow, and hide 
an Eden in his breast. He will not care 
what all the world can do, if from the gold¬ 
en sky an eye of Love beam on his way 
of conscious rectitude. 
It is true, there are men often found, 
who have no aim to become what they 
should, nay, they do not aspire to a single 
virtue; but why is this? Simply because 
they were never taught that virtue has 
beauties that malicious slander, and envious 
tongues can never destroy. So, young man, 
let your course be onward and straightfor¬ 
ward,—turn not to mind the sneers of men 
who are too ignorant and full of vice to be 
respected; look above them,— live them 
down — show them the independence of 
a lofty heart—a heart made pure by right 
principles and just motives, and you need 
not fear that they can harm you. Carry 
your heart in your hand, and let your man¬ 
liness be written on your countenance, place 
your eyes upon a lofty mark, stoop not to 
mean and dastard acts, aim to do right, and 
a just God will save you from all the harm 
that mean and ignorant men can do. Suc¬ 
cess will coin gold in your hand, and virtue 
will build a temple in your bosom, where 
angels will love to pay their visits, and 
peace will make her home. 
Buffalo, Aug., 1851. ' W. H. Bristol. 
MARRIAGE. 
Leigh Hunt concludes an essay on mar¬ 
riage as follows: — There is no one tiling 
more lovely in this life, more full of the di- 
vinest courage, than when a young maiden 
from her past life, from her happy child¬ 
hood, when she rambled over every field 
and moor around her home; when a moth¬ 
er anticipated her wants and soothed her 
little cares; when brothers and sisters grew 
from merry playmates to loving, trustful 
friends; from the Christmas gatherings and 
romps, the summer festivals in bower or 
garden; from the rooms sanctified by the 
death of relatives; from the holy and secure 
backgrounds of her childhood, and girlhood 
and maidenhood, looks out into a dark and 
unillumed future, away from all that, and 
yet unterrified, undaunted, leans her fair 
cheek upon her lover’s breast, and whis¬ 
pers, “Dear heart! I cannot see, but I be¬ 
lieve. The past was beautiful, but the fu¬ 
ture I can trust with theeV ’ 
When we stand at the grave of loved 
ones, it is as if we stood on the boundary 
of time and eternity. The tear is sacred 
to the former—the hymn of devotion to 
the latter; and in no moment of our life 
does our strength seem less, and our exis¬ 
tence more full of importance, than in this. 
PORTRAITS A>D SKETCHFES OF THE I»5SESiI>EN 7 TS—NO. 9. 
WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON. 
Benjamin Harrison, the father of the 
President, was descended from the General 
Harrison whose name finds honorable men¬ 
tion in the history of the army of the com¬ 
monwealth, in England. His ancestors set¬ 
tled in Virginia, of which State he was 
Governor, and for a long period was one of 
its leading men. He was a signer of the 
Declaration of Independence, and was the 
member of the Continental Congress who 
introduced, in June, 1776, the resolution 
declaring the Independence of the Colonies, 
and on the 4th of July following, the De¬ 
claration-of Independence itself. He died 
in 1791, leaving three sons, of whom Wil¬ 
liam Henry, the subject of the present 
sketch, was the youngest. He was born on 
the 9th of February, 1773, at Berkeley, on 
the James River, in Charles City county, 
Virginia. Upon the death of his father he 
was placed under the guardianship of Rob¬ 
ert Morris, the great financier of the Revo¬ 
lution. He entered Hampden Sydney Col¬ 
lege, in Virginia, and after graduating com¬ 
menced the study of medicine. While 
pursuing his studies, however, the Indian 
outrages upon the Western frontier aroused 
the spirit of the whole nation, arid young 
Harrison determined to abandon his pro¬ 
fession and join the forces organizing to go 
against the savages. 
At the age of nineteen he received an 
ensign’s commission from Gen. Washington, 
and joined his regiment (artillery) at Fort 
Washington, on the Ohio, in 1791. In lead¬ 
ing the march of a detachment from this 
point to Fort Hamilton, on the Miami, the 
road to which lay through a forest infested 
by hostile tribes, he displayed so much cool¬ 
ness, skill, and courage, that General St. 
Clair warmly commended him, and he was 
promoted to the rank of colonel. In the 
following year he joined the great expedi¬ 
tion of Gen. Wayne, which reached Fort 
Washington, on the site of the city of Cin¬ 
cinnati, in the autumn of 1793, and passing 
along the south-western branch of the Mi¬ 
ami, went into winter quarters. From here 
a detachment under Lieut. Harrison was 
sent to take possession of the ground where 
Gen. St. Clair had been defeated two years 
before. The Indians fiercely attacked the 
place, but were repulsed with great loss.— 
In the great battle of the Maumee Rapids, 
on the 20th of August following, Lieuten¬ 
ant Harrison acquitted himself with so 
much gallantry that Gen. Wanye makes 
special and flattering mention of him in the 
official report. 
This battle finished the war in that quar¬ 
ter, and Lieut. Harrison, promoted to a cap¬ 
taincy, was intrusted by Gen. Wayne with 
the command of Fort Washington. While 
here, he married the daughter of John 
Cloves Symmes, the founder of the, Miami 
settlements. In 1797 he was appointed Sec¬ 
retary and ex-officio Governor of the whole 
Northwestern Territory, and in 1799 was 
elected the first delegate to Congress from 
the territory—being twenty-six years of age. 
During this session the new territory of In¬ 
diana was erected and Harrison appointed 
Governor. He was also superintendent of 
Indian affairs and Commander-in-chief of 
the militia. In 1803, President Jefferson 
appointed him sole commissioner for treat¬ 
ing with the Indians, and in 1804 he nego¬ 
tiated a favorable treaty with the Sacs and 
Foxes. 
Governor Harrison continued to be re¬ 
appointed by every successive administra¬ 
tion, at the earnest request of the inhabi¬ 
tants, to whom he had completi ly endear¬ 
ed himself, and held the office for thirteen 
years in succession. Ingtole, the Shawnee 
chief, known as the Prophet, and his broth¬ 
er, Tecumseh, set afoot they.' famous plan 
for a combined attack of the Indians of the 
North and South upon the whites, by which 
the latter were to be driven out of the whole 
Mississippi Valley. They daily increased 
in audacity, and committed many of the 
most barbarous outrages. In July, 1811, 
the conduct of the Indians had risen to such 
a height that it became absolutely necessa¬ 
ry to take active measures against them, 
and Gov. Harrison was authorized by the 
government to march forthwith against the 
Prophet’s town, but at the same time di¬ 
rected to use no force except such as was 
absolutely necessary. He accordingly set 
out with a force of about nine hundred 
men, and reached the Prophet’s town after 
a toilsome and dangerous march, on the 8th 
of November 1811, at a place called Tippe¬ 
canoe. In this action Gen. Harrison great¬ 
ly distinguished himself, and its results 
were of the happiest character, as the In¬ 
dians of the Northwest, with the single ex¬ 
ception of the Shawnees, came forward at 
once and proffered friendship and alliance. 
Having been appointed brigadier-general 
and invested with the entire command of 
the army of the Northwest, General Har¬ 
rison at or ce set about accomplishing 
the important objects of the campaign, 
viz., the recapture of Detroit, the reduc¬ 
tion of Fort Malden, and the protection 
of the Northwestern frontier. On the 3d 
of May, 1813, the British and Indians; the 
latter under Tecumseh, attacked Gen. Har¬ 
rison at Fort Meigs, commencing with a 
bombardment which lasted five days; at 
length Harrison made a sortie upon the 
enemy, completely routing them in the 
space of forty-five minutes, although their 
force more than doubled his own. On the 
27th of August the great battle of the 
Thames was fought, in which Harrison 
achieved another brilliant victory, and dur¬ 
ing which Tecumseh was killed and six 
hundred of the enemy were taken pris¬ 
oners. 
This glorious action, which virtually put 
an end to the war on the Northwestern 
frontier, was received by the whole coun¬ 
try with gratitude, and the fortunate gene¬ 
ral hailed with enthusiasm—among other 
testimonials a resolution of praise, and a 
gold medal, being presented to him by 
Congress. 
In 1816, Gen. Harrison was elected to 
Congress from Ohio, and in 1819 to the 
Senate of that State. In 1824 he was 
elected to the Senate of the United States, 
and in 1828 was appointed minister pleni¬ 
potentiary to the republic of Columbia. 
In 1835, Gen. Harrison was nominated 
for the Presidency, and received seventy- 
ty three electoral votes. In 1839 he was 
again nominated by the whig national con¬ 
vention, and elected by a triumphant ma¬ 
jority— 234 to 60. He was inaugurated 
on the 4th of March following, and on the 
17th issued his proclamation calling an extra 
session of Congress to take into considera¬ 
tion the financial condition of the country, 
which was to assemble on the 21st of May. 
But before this period arrived, the Presi¬ 
dent was seized with illness, which increas¬ 
ed in severity under the medical treatment 
to which he was exposed, and on the 4th 
of April—just one month from his inau¬ 
guration-terminated in death. The sud¬ 
den blow was deeply felt by the whole 
country, and deeply deplored by friends as 
well as foes: for none who knew William 
Henry Harrison, or were even tolerably fa¬ 
miliar with the country’s history, could fail 
to respect and venerate him as a man placed 
high above all the petty and selfish objects 
of the politician, and actuated wholly, in all 
his life, both public and private, by the 
purest and noblest sentiments. — Phrenolog¬ 
ical Journal. 
Cables’ LLliisamt. 
LETTER FROM “ LUCY.”-WASTE OF TIME 
Mr. Editor : — As my former missive 
met with favor, I have thought it would not 
be amiss to send you the following letter, 
written to one of our girls, hoping it may 
be as a word fitly spoken to some of the 
farmers’ daughters who read your excellent 
paper. 
Dear Susan :—I have been long think- 
ing of writing to you about making a bet- 
, ter use of your time, and you know me 
I and love me too well, I trust, to consider 
what I may say as meddling or fault find¬ 
ing; then be assured once more that it is 
“ much easier to praise than to blame,” and 
I only say this with a desire to promote 
your happiness. 
Have you read Emma Jane’s letter in 
the Rural of July 31st? and do you re¬ 
member what she said about having your 
work-basket in the corner where you usu¬ 
ally sit down ? Now, if yours was on the 
table, how many stiches you might take 
'in one day when you are just sitting there 
chatting with Mary, and it would be rest¬ 
ing you just as well—and how many good 
books you might make yourself acquaint¬ 
ed with, that you now regret you 1 ave not 
time to read, if you would lay one before 
;our eyes every time you sit there wim 
your head on your hand, dolefully thinking 
of nothing in particular. You would then 
forget your little troubles, and have your 
book read through in a short time, and 
the only danger would be of forgetting the 
other work. It is always best not to sit 
down much until the work is all done, or 
you get very tired, but, when you do sit 
down, do not fold your hands. Let your 
motto be “ never be idle a moment.” Dr. 
BEECHERhas some excellent thoughts in one 
of our late periodicals, which you must 
read the whole of, when you come here, 
but I ca-not forbear quoting a single par¬ 
agraph. 
“ The young abhor the last results of 
idleness, but they do not perceive that the 
first steps lead to the lust. They are in the 
opening of this career, but with them it 
is genteel leisure, not laziness ; it is relax¬ 
ation, not sloth ; amusement, not indolence. 
But leisure, relaxation, and amusement, 
when you ought to be usefully employed, 
are Indolence. A specious industry is the 
worst idleness.” 
I have quoted this, not that I think you 
are lazy, but to show you a good man’s 
opinion of the danger of taking the first 
half step in the wrong direction ; the down¬ 
ward road is so easy, and it is so much 
more difficult to take a step back than for¬ 
ward. 
Another thing, dear Susan —how much 
time you spend running to the window.— 
What if that fine carriage was passing? 
It was no one that you knew, and if it had 
been, why should you run? -There is no 
use of complaining that we have not time, 
when we suffer these moments that the 
long day is made of, to run to waste.— 
Why Susan, I read all our periodicals, be¬ 
sides much other reading, just when I am 
tending baby, and mine does not get more 
tending than any babe should have. The 
little fellow has become so accustomed to 
my paper that he seldom offers to pull it, 
and if he does, I have only to take hold of 
his little hand with one of mine, and if he 
is rebellious I hold fast, thus saving the 
time and quietly teaching him a lesson of 
obedience. 
I do not think of any thing more I wish¬ 
ed to say, and here is perhaps as much as 
you will remember. I shall expect an early 
reply, to know you are not displeased. 
You s, most affectionately, Lucy. 
The influence which woman exerts is si¬ 
lent aid still, felt rather than seen, not 
chaining the hands, but restraining our ac¬ 
tions by tiding into the heart 
For iheRur.'tl New-Yorker. 
STANZAS. < 
_ ( 
We see thj blossoms on life’s tree, < 
Still fading day by day; I 
And friends, the best and loveliest < 
Are passing fast away. ( 
Still we forget that icy bands, < 
Arc closing roiind the heart: 
And shadows there are gathering. 
That never may depart. 
Our treasured idols of the dust, 
Like shadows melt away; 
And mind alone the substance keeps 
That never may decay. 
The buoyant hopes of early years. 
Our young souls ever knew; 
Are garnered with remembered ones, 
The fond, the tried, the true. 
Youth's morning freshness ne’er may bless 
Our longing souls again, 
Nor after years again cement 
Sweet friendship’s broken chain. 
Camillus, Aug. 8, 1851. C. S. Brooks. 
MATERNAL LOVE. 
A mother’s love is a tiling imperishable, 
it cannot die; and though that dear one 
may be mouldering in the lowly tomb, yet, 
in the pensive sadness of midnight dreams, 
she comes from the spirit sky to look and 
smile upon the winning countenance of her 
slumbering child. Those maternal eyes 
look down into the happy soul of the loved 
dreamer, and the divine smiles of those an¬ 
gel lips, breathe silent magic into the vis¬ 
ioning heart. That spirit mother hovers 
over the couch of her loved child; she 
presses her snowy band upon his dewy 
brow, and lays back like waves of gold, his 
silken locks; then bends and kisses it in an 
ecstacy of joy, while the still heart that 
slumbers below gladdens with the same 
bliss. 
No! a mother’s love can never die—it is 
too much like heaven. She watches over 
the cradle of infancy, and pours into the 
young spirit that hides in her bosom, the 
sweet songs of her tender affection. When 
sickness damps the brow and oppresses the 
heart, she is near to comfort and relieve, 
when in sorrow, she is ready to administer 
the healing balm of consolation, and when 
the dark hour of death draws near, behold, 
she stands by the sufferer’s couch, and 
with sweet words assures the dying one 
that Love is waiting in the sky. 
Who knows a mother’s love, knows all, 
for the earth has but one gift, the Universe 
but one — true and holy love. Like the sun, 
it spreads through all space, shines from 
zone to zone, and wafts from pole to pole. 
It kindles with the stars, and sleeps with 
the mild azure of the skies; it smiles in 
the varied flowers, and breathes in the 
breath of summer; it inspires the song of 
angels, and lends a charm to the music of 
earth. W. H. Bristol. 
Buffalo, Aug., 1851. 
A MOTHER’S INFLUENCE. 
For myself I am sure that a different 
mother would have made me a different 
man. W’hen a boy, I was too much like 
the self-willed, excitable Clarence ; but the 
tenderness with which my mother always 
treated me, and the unimpassioned but 
earnest manner in which she reproved and 
corrected my faults, subdued my unruly 
temper. When I became restless or im¬ 
patient, she always had a book to read to 
me, or a story to tell, or had some device to 
save me from myself. My father was nei¬ 
ther harsh nor indulgent towards me ; I 
cherish his memory with respect and love. 
But I have different feelings when I think 
of my mother. I often fee), even now, as 
if she were near me, as if her cheek were 
laid to mine. My father would place his 
hand upon my head, caressingly, but moth¬ 
er would lay her cheek against mine. I 
did not expect my father to do more—I do 
not know that I would have loved him better 
had he done more ; for him it was a natu¬ 
ral expression of affection. But no act is 
too tender for a mother. Her kiss upon 
my cheek, her warm embrace, are all felt 
now, and the older I grow, the more holy 
seem the influences that surrounded me in 
childhood.— T. S. Arthur. 
None of us know what we can live past 
till we have proved it. God sends us 
strange strength to carry us on from one 
great trial to the next that is reserved for us. 
We live through them—and past them.— 
So that to the world they seem over; so 
that strangers cheerfully observe to each 
other, that “ we seem qu : te ourselves.” 
It is pleasant to see a beautiful maiden 
intently engaged in the nurture of some 
fair flowers, training some delicate vines, or 
binding up some fragile stock broken by the 
ruthless wind; for whilst her thoughts are 
resting on their welfare, sorrow and trouble 
tire banished from her heart. 
Those beings only are fit for solitude, who 
like nobody, are like nobody, and are liked 
by nobody.— Zimmerman. 
