MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTU RAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
0, 2j, 
J-jT” The following tribute from one of the New 
World’s purest and sweetest Singers to the Old World's 
most effective living PniUnthropist is worthy of the theme 
and the author:— 
FATHER MATHEW, 
GIVING THE TEMPERANCE PLEDGE AT THE TOMBS, IN NEwj 
It was a place of gloom, and Justice turned 
Her massy key between it and the world 
Of busy men, and the rejoicing sun. 
Suffering was there, and Crime, and dark Remorse, 
And the sear’d Conscience—direr doom than they. 
_Who entereth, with such kindness on his brow 
And pitying tone? 
He cometh not to daunt 
The spirits in prison. He upbraideth not. 
He wringetli not into the cup of shame 
The bitter gall-drop of self-righteous scorn,— 
But with that Master’s gentleness, who sought 
And saved the lost—uplifts and stirs the fall.rn 
To strong resolve. O’er the dead heart he breathes 
A living hope. 
Quick impulsive moves the throng, 
As when a tree before the viewless winds 
Is rent and shaken. Here and there they bow, 
Humbled before him. He, who fiercely set 
H>s face like flint, ’gainst blame or punishment, 
And she, whose bold and bronzed cheek hath lost 
All tint of pure aud tremulous womanhood, 
Feel that strange guest, a tear. Kneeling, they take 
The proffer’d vow, made firm by holy prayer, 
As from parental lips. 
Ohl good oldman! 
Su eh scenes as these, that give the angels joy. 
Have mark'd thy blessed course o’er many lands. 
Farewell! We give thee thanks. God speed thy way 
In safety o’er the main. 
Amid our clime, 
The seal of thine apostleship remains, 
And deep thine image is enshrined in homes 
To which too long the husband and the sire 
Came as a fiend, to desolate or slay, 
But now the infant climeth to his knee, 
Fearless and fond—the wintry hearth is bright, 
And by his side the trustful matron sits, 
A song of praise within her secret soul. 
_These are thy trophies, with the web of life 
Meekly inwoven. And the laurel crown 
O f the blood-shedder, and the clarion blast 
Of loudest fame, were well exchang’d for these 
When the strong angel with his trumpet sound 
Warns to the judgment. 
Hartford, Oct. 20,1851. L - “• s - 
THE RAINY DAY. 
“The day is cold, and dark, and dreary.” 
The wind whistles fitfully around the cor¬ 
ners, and amid the nooks and crannies, and 
upon its wings are borne the gariture of 
tree, shrub, and flower. The gardens 
and fields have become a waste. The chill 
rain falls and everything reminds us 
“ The melancholy days are come, the saddcstof the year.” 
The song-birds have departed for sunnier 
climes, the flovvrets have drooped and died, 
and mother Earth is preparing for her sea¬ 
son of rest, the Winter of the Year. Soon 
will a mantle of virgin whiteness cover the 
face of nature and the purling springs, and 
babbling brooks, be locked in the grasp of 
the icy god. 
But in how small a degree does the war¬ 
ring of the elements, or the inclemency of 
the seasons affect us if we have the sun¬ 
shine of a joyous heart radiating our path¬ 
way, and shedding its kindly influences 
upon all the objects with which we come 
in contact. The falling rain, the chilling, 
blast and driving snow; the desolated fields, 
withered foliage and naked trees, should 
make no part of the scenery which we 
would produce. Our life is like unto the 
falling leaf. It should teach us to fill our 
short space of time with useful employ¬ 
ments, to practice that industry, activity 
and energy, which the seasons and all in 
nature constantly inculcate. 
How the senses are delighted with the 
approach of Spring; the feast that is fur¬ 
nished on every field and hill. IIow the 
eye will rest on every new object upon 
which it turns. It is grateful to perceive how 
nature hath painted her robe, and how she 
hath spread her blossoms, and scattered her 
odors. There is melody in her groves, and 
health in her pure breezes. 
Can v\ e not always be surrounded with 
the spring-time of life? Is it not in our 
power to drive away the winter of adver¬ 
sity which is resting on so many of our 
fellow creatures, and dispel the gloom 
of sorrow and sadness by the effulgent 
light of the sun of happiness and affec¬ 
tion ? And when we count on protracted 
years, and in the sin of procrastination? 
“ put off that which should be done to¬ 
day,” let the spectacle of the “ faded and 
many-colored woods,” and the naked trees 
give us a salutary admonition of the future. 
Let not our evil desires destroy the intel¬ 
lect in the spring of its advancement, nor 
inactivity, nor vice canker the promise of 
the heart in its blossom. Then shall the 
summer of our lives be adorned with beau¬ 
ty, the autumn yield a harvest of wisdom 
and goodness, and the winter of age be 
cheered and enlivened with pleasing re¬ 
membrances of the days that were, and 
; bright hopes for the days that are to come. 
Rochester, Oct. 22, 1851. W. T. K. 
h 
PORTRAITS AND SKETCHES OF THE PRESIDENTS.-- NO. 11. 
JAMES KNOX POLK. 
The Polk family, whose name originally 
was Pollock, emigrated from Ireland in the 
eighteenth century and settled on the east¬ 
ern shore of Maryland, where, being the 
only Democrats of note, they were called 
the Democratic family. The great-uncle 
of the President, Colonel Thomas Polk, 
was one of the signers of the Mecklen¬ 
burg Declaration ot Independence in 1775. 
The father of the President removed in 
1806, with his family of ten children, to 
Tennessee, where he settled in the fertile 
valley of the Duck River, a branch of the 
Cumberland. Here the subject of our 
sketch resided from childhood, until he was 
called to the Presidential chair. He was 
at first intended by his father for the mer¬ 
cantile profession, but being greatly averse 
to it, he at length succeeded in overcoming 
the paternal prejudices, and was sent to 
Murfreesburg Academy, where, in the short 
space of two years and a half, he prepared 
himself for college, and entered the Uni¬ 
versity of North Carolina, in 1815—being- 
then in the twentieth year of his age. He 
graduated in 1818 with the highest honors 
of his class, and with the reputation of be¬ 
ing the first scholar both in mathematics 
and the classics. Prom college he return¬ 
ed to Tennessee, and commenced the study 
of law in the office of the late Felix Grun¬ 
dy, under whose auspices he was admitted 
to the bar at the close of the year 1820. 
His success at the bar was unequivocal 
and distinguished, and in less than a year 
he commanded a large and lucrative prac¬ 
tice. 
In 1823 he left his profession for politics, 
and was elected to the Tennessee legisla¬ 
ture. He was the early political supporter 
and personal friend of General Jackson, 
and was one of those who first suggested 
him for the Presidency. In August, 1825, 
Mr. Polk was elected to Congress, where 
he at once declared himself as a Democrat¬ 
ic Republican of the strictest sect—a State- 
rights man and a strict constructionist, op¬ 
posed to protective tariffs, United States 
banks, internal improvements, restriction of 
slavery, etc., etc. His first speech in Con¬ 
gress was in favor of amending the consti¬ 
tution so as to prevent the election of Pres¬ 
ident and Vice President by the House, in 
any event. He also warmly and ably op¬ 
posed the Panama mission, and introduced 
a series of resolutions embodying the prin¬ 
ciple that it is the duty of the House of 
Representatives when called upon for ap¬ 
propriations for foreign missions, to inquire 
into the expediency and necessity of those 
missions. Through the whole of his Con¬ 
gressional career he warmly opposed the 
administration of Mr. Adams, and as warm¬ 
ly supported that of Gen. Jackson. 
At the session of Congress subsequent 
to the removal of the deposits by General 
Jackson, Mr. Polk, as chairman of the com¬ 
mittee of ways and means, exerted him¬ 
self successfully to push through the reso¬ 
lutions sustaining and approving the Presi¬ 
dent’s course. 
In December, 1835, Mr. Polk was elected 
Speaker of the House of Representatives, 
a post which he filled with dignity and 
ability for five successive sessions—receive 
ing, upon his retirement, the unanimoif? 
thanks of the House. Throughout the 
whole of his political career, Mr. Polk was 
distinguished for his unwavering attach¬ 
ment to his party; and in 1835, when the 
whole Tennessee delegation in the House 
of Representatives determined to support 
Judge White for the Presidency, he re¬ 
mained firm to the Democratic party of 
the Union, and gave his support to Mr. 
Van Buren. 
In 1S39, after serving fourteen years in 
Congress, Mr. Polk declined a re-election, 
and was nominated as the Democratic can¬ 
didate for Governor of Tennessee, and elec¬ 
ted. Two years afterwards he was a can¬ 
didate for re-election, but was defeated, and 
again, in 1843, with a similar result. 
Mr. Polk remained in private life until 
the 29th of May, 1844, when he received 
the nomination of the Democratic National 
Convention for President, to which office 
he was eleeted the following fall. The 
prominent measures of his administration 
were the Mexican war, the settlement of 
the Oregon boundary question, the estab¬ 
lishment of the independent treasury, and 
the reduction of the tariff. 
The Democratic party nominated, in 
1848, General Lewis Cass as successor to 
Mr. Polk, who was defeated by General 
Taylor, the late President. Immediately 
upon the inauguration of General Taylor, 
Mr. Polk and his lady accompanied by a few 
friends, set out for Tennessee, where he in¬ 
tended to pass the remainder of his days 
in retirement—having for that purpose, 
purchased an elegant residence in the beau¬ 
tiful city of Nashville, on the Cumberland 
River. But he did not long remain on 
earth to enjoy the sweets of repose and the 
delights of home, unintruded upon by the 
officious politeness that surrounds great 
ness. Early in the following summer he 
was attacked by a chronic diarrhea, a dis¬ 
ease to which he had been for some time 
liable, which, on the 15th of June, 1S49 
terminated in death, in the 54th year of 
his age. On his death-bed a Methodist 
minister administered to him the ordinance 
of baptism, and he died full of Christian 
hope. He left a widow—an amiable and 
accomplished lady of Tennessee, a devout 
Christian, and well qualified by her educa¬ 
tion and character to grace the high posi¬ 
tion to which she was called. Mr. Polk left 
no children.— Am. Phren. Journal. 
HINTS ON CONVERSATION. 
Conversation ought to be mental music, 
in which diversity of thought in the unity 
of humanity makes the harmony of the soul. 
Amenity and propriety are the essential 
conditions. A march would not be music 
in a church, nor an anthem in a ball-room. 
But schisms like these are often the bane 
of conversation. 
A man to talk well must believe and be 
believed. The cloud of suspicion is like the 
valley of the shadow of death The scowl 
of a doubt is like the sight of a hawk to the 
song of a bird. To be just is to be tolerant, 
and to be tolerant is to be gentle. 
A sharp, captious, unscrupulous intellect 
produces an atmosphere that is poisonous 
to the natural flow of conversation. The 
man of such an intellect is a gladiator, steep¬ 
ed to the eye in fight, cunning of fence, 
master of his weapon, and merciless in its 
jlise. He wields the sword of a spirit, but 
not of a holy one, which is sharp to wound 
and often to pierce the defenceless and un¬ 
offending. — Giles. 
f* .v Vl p £ , ^IT the wish to wander from it, why should she 
^vlIUUv2j not a( j(j f- 0 them permanently, those of her 
- - - ■ - ’ -— early accomplishments? They are not less 
GOOD NIGHT. pleasing to tried friends, than to casual ad- 
Good nigiit, sweet life! Yet, dearest, say, mirers. They may be retained to cheer 
How can that night be good to me, her own solitude, to enliven and calm the 
That drives me from my bliss away, . . . . . 
Whilst taking Off mine eyes from thee! s P lrlts of those composing the home circle 
Good night! the hours so swift are fleeting, — also to gratify her friends. And when 
We find no time to mark their flight! , i n i i , , 1 it • 
And having known such joy in meeting, the y shal1 have departed, and life is wear- 
’Tis hard to say—good night! good night! ing away and the senses beginning to fail, 
Good night, sweet life! ere daylight beams-, the accomplishments of her youth may be 
And sleep gives birth to hopes divine, the so lace of her age. | 
May I be present In thy dreams, ^ » 
And blest as thou shalt be in mine! Men meet in the social circles, to be in- 
Good night’ yet still I fondly l.nger; nocently, agreeably, happily and profitably 1 
I go, but do not leave thy sight: . ° J , rr J r J i 
Though morning shows her rosy finger occupied. llie Stores of each should be S 
i murmur stm—good night: good.mght! contributed for the benefit of all. Each j 
social duties 'of woman. °“ e is under a tacil obli S alion “ d ° some - . | 
- thing for the common improvement, and he j 
These are two fold—the first leading who has not a treasure of wisdom from ex- j 
her to seek the lasting good, the second to perience, observation and study, by which 
promote the present happiness, of those by to enlighten, can at least produce his native } 
whom she is surrounded. Omitting the talent to entertain and delight, 
consideration of the former, I shall oonfine I shall notice a single other social relation ] 
myself to the latter. It is the duty of wo- 0 f woman, which brings its duties and re- > j 
man to use the talents God has given her, quires provision for its fulfilment. It is )j 
to promote the immediate improvement, 0 f teacher. A great part is already, 
happiness and enjoyment of the circle a nd it is to be hoped that a greater part j 
which she is a member. Of the modes by hereafter of the business of instructing lit- I 
which she may do this, I shall consider t] e children in schools, will be performed j 
conv irsation, and what are called accom- by woman. Every thing indicates the nat- ] 
plishments. , urai adaptation of the female character to 
The peculiar facility with which highly perform the arduous duties of this respon- j 
educated females learn to excel in the s ible, though humble vocation. In the ■ 
pleasing art of conversation, has often been present constitution of society, it is almost 
remarked. The hilarity, ready sympathy, the only vocation out of the domestic circle 
and desire of pleasing, which are natural that j s open for woman; for this, then, let 
to woman, are intimations not to be mista- a mple preparation be made, 
ken of her Creator’s intentions. The charm j n the last place, woman has relations to 
of easy, various, cheerful, relined conversa- the D e i n g above, and to the future life of 
tion is too universally felt to need descrip- inestimable importance and of endless du- ' 
tion. "W hatever is excellent or curious may nation. The peculiar relations of the pres- 
naturally be made the subject of conversa- en t existence, all of which constitute a dif- ‘ 
tion. A woman often has it in her power, ference between the sexes, will cease when 
without departing from modesty, which is they are not married nor given in marriage, 
her greatest charm, to direct conversation but are alike the angels in Heaven. Every 
to the most elevated and interesting sub- being who comes into existence with an 
jects. She always has the power among immortal destiny, should be educated for \ 
persons of the slightest civility, of turning immortality. This thought should be kept 
conversation away from what is impure, dis- in view through every stage of progress.— / 
agreeable or unprofitable. When graceful- The happiness of our future being w ill be ( 
ly and skilfully used it is not only the means increased by whatever tends to develop the ? 
of present gratification, but the vehicle of mind, and to prepare it to obey the com- 1 
instruction of the most permanent and en- mands and precepts of our divine Saviour 
nobling kind. Is it unreasonable to say aa d Teacher. Imprimatur. 
that special preparation should be made -—-——- 
for the acquisition and exercise of this de- “ A "WITTY TRUTH.” 
lightful art? • The celebrated Dr. Johnson said that in j 
1 he accomplishments are sometimes re- epigrams truth was generally sacrificed to ] 
garded, as the name intimates, as giving point; but we insert below a case in which 
the last touch and finish, and for which, truth adds point to the sentiment. At a 
almost any thing else in a female’s educa- celebration of the last 4th ot July in I arL, 
/ . c , a ,, by a number ot Americans, the following 
tion may be sacrificed, bometimes on the J ~,, . ’ , , ° 
J was one of the toasts given at the banquet: l 
contrary, they are looked upon as trifling ^ 0artHJ ^ , he BaUot . loXi and : 
and valueless, wholly unworthy of the at- Band - box : The external, the internal, 
tention of an immortal creature. That an d the eternal preservatives of Republi- 
they may be misused is not denied; that canism. 
they may be and are sources of innocent This is the best toast ever drank on the 
and elevating pleasure, both to the posses- Fourth of July, in America or Europe. It 
, , . , . is worthy of being placed at the head of 
sors an 1 to others, is emphatically true. Lord Bacon’s apothegms. The true phi- j 
God has 1 estowed on woman, an ear and losophy, patriotism, and beauty pervade the 
a voice which enable her to utter sounds of whole sentiment, in every word and idea.— 
exquisite music. He has constituted the The cartridge box in the hands of brave 
. ... , j .. men, may be the defence ot republicanism 
ruran elastic medium adapted to wafting from ’ e ’ ternal ., en ’ mics . and the ballot- 
these sounds, softened but unimpaired, to box, kept pure, may preserve republicanism 
a distance, and nicely adapted to the vibra- f r0 m all “ internal” enemies. But “ the \ 
tions of sonorous bodies, which he has band-box” is the “ eternal preservative” of , 
formed, and which he has given man in- republicanism, and, it may be added, of : 
t „• . i • , • • , , every thing else worth preserving. j 
telhgence to shape mto various instruments. J & _ s 
Shall it be considered a perversion of the 
Maker’s purposes, for woman to perfect 
herself in an innocent art, by which she can 
worthily praise God and gladden the heart 
of man? 
LANGUAGE OF YOUNG LADIES. 
Tiie Rev. A. Peabody, in an address be¬ 
fore the the Newburyport Female School, 
which has been published, enlarges upon the 
use of exaggerated, extravagi nt forms of 
So with drawing. The eye may be speech, saying splendid for pretty, magnifi- 
trained to a quicker preception, and the cen ^ ^ or handsome, horrid or horrible for 
. , , . , , „ j unvleasant, immense for large, thousands or 
, . . , . ... , , . myriads for more than two. 
uension oi the beautiful and grand in na- « yy ere } ie says, “ to write down for 
ture, by a course of instruction. The hand one d a y, the conversation of some young 
may be made a fit and ready minister to ladies of my acquaintance, and then to in¬ 
record or execute the conceptions, or the terpret it literally it would imply that with- 
observations of the mind. Shall an art in the compass of twelve or fourteen hours, 
, , , . they had met with more marvelous adven- 
tlwt thus opens to its possessor new sources ^ and hair-breadth escapes, had passed 
of improvement and gratification, and ena- through more distressing experiences, had 
bles her to transmit to an absent friend a seen more imposing spectacles, had endured 
conception of a fine scene, and to enrich more fright, had enjoyed more rapture, than 
her home with the beauties of the moun- ™ uld suffice for a dozen common lives.” 
tains and waters of distant lands, be con- A gEBMra m A QcATKiIN ._ Ther0 is 
demned as frivolous. more of the true teaching of Christianity 
Accomplishments are too apt to be sought j n these four little lines than is contained in 
and acquired for the purpose of rendering many an elaborate sermon preached in a 
their possessor an object of attention for a pulpit: 
brief period; and when they have served *' Ne^r.^ev^u^ chnstovaisaid, 
this purpose, they are too frequently thrown F °Thou^ b ^otU 8 wkk h eVas^!’ < ’ f G ° d 
aside as of no further use. Why should it -■—- 
be so ? When woman has found a home, How beautiful the ornament of a meek 
How beautiful the ornament of a meek 
Age breeds neglect in all. — Denham. ' possessing too many attractions to leave her and quiet spirit 
