MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
A CITY RHYME. 
I saw two children in the streets, 
Two little maidens, yester’ eve, 
And one was pale, and both were fair, 
And both did make me grieve. 
Nestling in robes of silk and down, 
On velvet cushions, one rolled by; 
One went a wan and ragged thing— 
A tear-drop freezing in each eye. 
One sped to Fashion’s princely seat, 
To learn the guile that jewels sin; 
The other groped through dismal doors, 
And found her mother dead within.—II. N. P. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MUSIC. 
BY GF.O. R. BOULTON. 
Music ! beautiful music ! Gift of a boun¬ 
tiful Creator to make us better — it lends 
the soul a holier influence and softens every 
harsh feeling. Music is the language of 
love—a glorious intoxication—an enchant¬ 
ment of the senses—it is an intellectuality, 
an embodied idealisation of sentiment.— 
Music is but just beginning to bo thought of 
in tho right manner—as a power which is to 
move tho masses — to sway tho world.— 
There are comparatively few who appreci¬ 
ate its high and proper aim. Tho majority 
of people look upon it as a means of pleas- 
urable sensation only, a mere pastime of the 
moment. They either do not think of its 
spiritual influence, or they deny its having- 
such. But this stato of opinion is rapidly 
passing away before tho advancing studies 
of tho art. Music is the Art, and as such 
will live when sculpture, painting, and all 
others shall have expired in tho intellectual 
socket of tho brains’ chamber. Not that I 
would undervalue these beautiful pursuits 
—no, they all claim a place in our hearts. 
But music can move the very deepest springs 
of feeling—can make the tears course down 
the rugged cheek of age, and speed a thrill 
of joy to tho heart of bounding youth 
while it sends the blood moro rapidly thro’ 
tho veins of every living being. A strain of 
sweet sounds witchos us ever —who can with¬ 
stand it ? Music ! oh, welcomo tho time 
when it shall be widely diffused among tho 
millions of earth. It will draw men nearer 
together, and nearer to God. Actual dem¬ 
onstration proves how much it is capable of 
doing—its purity, beauty, and refining influ¬ 
ence. Gladly shall tho time be welcomed 
when every household shall have within its 
limits the elements of this beautiful art in 
some form. 
The musician’s throne is high in the 
hearts of men—his text-book is creation’s 
varied form, and his harp is hung with the 
heart strings of men, tied by sensibility and 
tempered in the casket of lovely doings.— 
He is a High Priest, whose work it is to in¬ 
dividualize Nature’s varied sounds, her 
sweet whisperings, and her louder notes, and 
to give them an expression, to study tho 
sounding harmonies, tho fundamental bass 
of the groat Organ of tho Deity. To see 
tho goodness, the harmony of construction 
that everywhere lives and shines forth direct 
from Him who rules all, and holds tho world 
in “ tho hollow' of his hand.” Oh! it is 
painful to look upon the world as it is now 
—all seems to bo contention and discord, 
and wrong feeling chains and rules the im¬ 
pulses of men. Como, thou bright spirit of 
religion, poetry — Music — come now- in all 
thy purity of character, thy lovoliness and 
goodness, and assort thy prerogative. Tell 
earth’s multitudes what you will do for them, 
and await the reply. Believe me, it will 
ring through all coming generations, and 
“ wo shall bo changed.” 
Men speak of Poetry, of tho poetic prin¬ 
ciple within us, that grasping for the super¬ 
nal loveliness as expressed in words, that 
inward perception of beauty here, and reali¬ 
zation of fancy, which assures us that there 
is a Heaven, where all is most perfect as 
partaking of the attributes of a just and 
holy Gob. But is not Music tho very es¬ 
sence of all Poetry, an immortal instinct, 
purely spiritual in nature, and an embodi¬ 
ment of that longing, and earnest yearning 
which man ever finds within him, and which 
urges him on to high deeds and daring 
things ? Does not Music picture to us a 
future bright as tho wings of hope ? Does 
it not bring tho realms of tho Past boforo 
us, and make tho Present more endurable ? 
If there is any dissatisfaction connectod 
with its pursuit, it is as Poe tells us—“Be¬ 
cause, that when wo are melted in tears, or 
transported with joy, and catch glimpses of 
holier, diviner, and more rapturous feeling 
through the instrumentality of the music, wo 
cannot grasp the perfect reality, to have and 
to hold, forever.” And again—“We are of¬ 
ten made to feel, with a shivering, trembling 
delight, that from an earthly harp are 
stricken notes which cannot have been unfa¬ 
miliar to the angels.” 
Music is God’s primitive idea, (if indeed 
such an one can bo assigned Him,) as exem¬ 
plified in the harmony of His laws, moral, 
religious, creative, intellectual and physical. 
An ablo author justly says, “ that Music is 
the finest and highest of tho fine Arts, and 
the life and soul of all the rest. Eloquence 
is the music of speech. Painting tho music 
of colors — and Architecture tho music of 
proportion. And ho who has musical taste 
is in a manner fitted for thorn all.” Often 
on hearing a beautiful strain of sweet music, 
have I thought “ would I were the soul of 
that siveet sound.” To be a musical thought. 
Who can wish higher than this ? To be 
wafted on gossamer pinions to the throne of I 
infinite love. Every note of pure music 
wings its way direct to courts of bliss, and 
there receives the sanction of a Deity, who 
will not permit a shadow of worldliness to 
fall on anything within his presence. 
Jonesville, Mich., Jan. 21, 1853. 
THE MONARCH OF GEMS, THE DIAMOND. 
In all its characters and relations tho dia¬ 
mond occupies a peculiar and lofty placo.— 
It is the monarch of the subterranean world; 
the material divinity, which the Pagan, the 
Jew, and tho Christian worship with equal 
idolatry. The sacra fames auri, the accurs¬ 
ed thirst for gold, is an inferior and loss excit¬ 
ing passion than that with which wo would 
struggle for the gigantic brilliant, or scram¬ 
blin'! for its glittering fragments. Over 
this globo of ours, there rules many a mighty 
sovereign On its surface are many rich 
and powerful empires — many a cloud capt 
tower and gorgeous palace rises above its 
plains — many a mass of gold and of silver 
has been wrenched from its bowels, and 
many a gem of art has arrested the intel¬ 
lectual eye; but moro loved than sovereigns 
—more prized than empires—more coveted 
than gold—more admired than the creations 
of Raphael, is tho sparkling diamond which 
flashes in tho imperial crown or adorns the 
royal sceptre, or adds to beauty its only 
“ foreign aid.” 
Nor is this an idle appreciation of its 
rarity and worth. It is in truth tho very 
essence of property. It is riches condens¬ 
ed and wealth secured; too small to be seen 
by the midnight burglar — too easily hid to 
bo seized by the tyrant, and too quickly car¬ 
ried away to bo wrested from the patriotic 
exile or torn from the hunted outlaw. In 
vain would tho vanquished monarch strive 
to remove his bags of gold, or transport his 
territorial domains; but a diamond is an 
empire made portable, with which he might 
purchase a better kingdom and mount a 
prouder throne. Had tho treasury of Croe¬ 
sus been invosted in brilliants he might have 
founded a nobler Lydia beyond tho l’oach of 
his Persian invaders. It is difficult to ex¬ 
press in words or in numbers the commer¬ 
cial value of the diamond ; but we may tru¬ 
ly say that a string of Koh-i-noors, a fur¬ 
long in length, would purchase the fee-sim¬ 
ple of the globe, while a ring engirdling the 
Arctic Zono would buy the whole planetary 
system. 
mSS O'CONNELL UPON THE IRISH. 
This lady is a niece of the great Agitator. 
She has written a book lately, in which she 
thus plainly alludes to tho faults of her 
countrymen: 
“Yes! they like leaving their business; 
they fail lamentably in persevering indus¬ 
try ; and so it is that in several of tho larger 
towns in Ireland, tho principal houses of 
business aro conducted by Scotchmen.— 
Tho Irish are tho creatures of impulse— 
thinking of the present, forgetting the fu¬ 
ture. Of courso 1 heard many examples of 
tho contrary ; and I know that, away from 
their country, they seem to need neither the 
plodding perseverence of the English, nor 
the thrifty forethought of tho Scotch. And 
tho tears of many a mother saddened by 
bitter poverty have been dried up by a 
handsomo remittance from America, from 
tho son tiiat had barely scraped together 
tho ‘ passage money ’ of tho cheap winter’s 
season, and had landed, poor follow, on a 
strange shoro. with but a few shillings in 
his pocket. How diligently ho must have 
labored, for a few months brought money 
enough to give comfort in his cabin-homo, 
and enabled another brother to join. I could 
multiply such instances—I need not; yet I 
will express my regret that, in Ireland, the 
poorer classes are deficient in hearty indus¬ 
try; theirs is a passive endurance of their 
lot, a carelessness of improving their condi¬ 
tion ; their wants aro few, and they barely 
seek to supply them.” 
THE GERMANS. 
An American student at a German Uni¬ 
versity, writes home:—“ A German bed is 
always a single bed—in tho cases where 
Providence has blessed a man with a wife, 
the same custom is adhered to, and the sin- 
glo beds are drawn lovingly side by sido.” 
Tho same writer says,—“ I verily believe 
that half the people in Germany think that 
the Americans are black. Only yesterday, I 
was soberly asked by a theological student, 
‘how many heathens aro there in Massa¬ 
chusetts,’ and if the ‘Americans aro not 
generally blacks, or copper colored ?’ And, 
last evening, at a concert, we were asked 
by an intelligent lady, if it was safe travel¬ 
ing in the part of our country from which 
we came, on account of tho Indians. An 
American friend, who is sojourning in a 
country town, at some distanco from hero, 
writes that the country people exclaimed, 
on seeing him,‘Why, is he an American? 
he is as white as any of us.’ Speaking of 
music, ho adds, ‘for three cents you can at 
any time hear a hotter concert than you 
can hear in America, except on tho rarest 
occasions.’” 
THE FURLOUGH. 
ax ntrsii anecdote. 
“ Time was called.”—R oxiaxa. 
In tho autumn of 1820, some private af¬ 
fairs called me into tho sister Kingdom, and 
as I did not travel like Polyphemus, with 
my eyes shut, I gathered a few samples of 
tho Irish character, among which was tho 
following incident: 
I was standing one day at tho window of 
“mine inn,” when my attention was attract¬ 
ed by a scene which took placo beneath.— 
Tho Belfast coach was standing at the door, 
and on tho roof in front, sat a solitary pas¬ 
senger, a fine young fellow in tho uniform 
of the Connaught Rangers. Below, by the 
front wheel, stood an old woman, seemingly 
his mother, a young man, and a young wo¬ 
man, sister or sweet-heart, and they were 
all earnestly entreating the young soldier 
to descend from his seat on the coach. 
“ Como down wid ye, Thady,”—the speak¬ 
er was the old woman, — “come down now 
to your old mother. Suro its flog you they 
will, and strip tho ilesh off your bones I give 
ye. Come down, Thady, darlint!” 
“ It’s honor, mother !” was tho short re¬ 
ply of tho soldier; and with clenched hands 
and sot tooth, ho took a stiffer seat on the 
coach. 
“ Thady, come down—come down ye fool 
of tho world—como along down wid yo ! ’— 
The tone of tho present appeal was more 
impatient and peremptory than tho last; 
and the answer was moro promptly and 
sternly pronounced: 
“Its honor, brother!” and tho body of 
tho speaker rose moro rigidly erect than 
ever on the roof. 
“ O Thady, como down ! sure its mo, your 
own Kathleen, that bids ye! Come down 
or yo will break the heart of me, Thady, 
jewel; como down, then !” The poor girl 
wrung her hands as she said it, and cast a 
look upward, that had a visible effect on the 
muscles of the soldier’s countenance. There 
was moro tenderness in his tone, but it con¬ 
voyed the same resolution as before. 
“ It’s honor, honor bright, Kathleen !” and 
as if to defend himself from another glanco 
he fixed his look steadfastly in front, while 
the renewed entreaties burst from all three 
in chorus, with the same answer. 
“ Como down, Thady, honey ! Thady, yo 
fool ! como down, como down ? O Thady, 
come down to me !” 
‘ It’s honor, mother! It’s honor, broth¬ 
er ! Honor bright, my own Kathleen !” 
Although the poor fellow was a private, 
this appeal was so public that I did not hes¬ 
itate to go down and inquire into the par¬ 
ticulars of tho distress. It appeared that 
ho had been homo on furlough, to visit his 
family, and having exceeded as he thought 
tho term of his leave, ho was going to rejoin 
his regiment and to undergo the penalty of 
his neglect. I asked him whon his furlough 
expired. 
“Tho first of March, your honor — bad 
luck to it of all tho lack days in tho world 
—and hero it is. come on me liko a shot!” 
“ Tho first of March ! Why my good fel¬ 
low, you have a day to spare then — the 
first of March will not be hero till to-mor¬ 
row ! It is leap year, and February lias 29 
days.” 
Tho soldier was thunderstruck. “ Twen- 
ty-nino days it is! You’re sartin of that 
same ? Oh, mother, mother—tho Divil fly 
away wid your ould almanack—a base era- 
tur of a book, to be deccaven one after liv¬ 
ing so long in tho family of us.” 
His first impulse was to cut a capor on 
tho roof of tho coach, and he threw up his 
cap with a loud huzza ! Ilis second was to 
throw himself into tho arms of Kathleen— 
and the third was to wring my hand oft' in 
ack n o w ledgmen t. 
“ It’s a happy man I am yer honor, for my 
word’s saved, and all by yer honor’s means. 
Long life to yer honor for tho same ! May 
yo li vo a long hundred years—and lape years 
ivery one of ’em !” 
A MINE OF WEALTH, 
Dr. J. Y. C. Smith, in an address recent¬ 
ly delivered in Boston, on Palestine, alluded 
to tho following circumstance : 
Tho Shieks or Arab Chiefs, are in tho 
habit of burying their treasures in tho sand 
of tho desert; no matter what it is, an 
American half-eagle, or a tin box, any thing 
they wish to preserve secure, they at once 
repair to the desert and deposit it, where 
none but themselves can hope to find it. 
Whon the doctor visitod tho Dead Sea. 
he hired Shieks to accompany him as guidos 
and protectors; ho gave five dollars to each, 
besides the present always necessary at the 
close of a bargain; the Shieks went immedi¬ 
ately out into a desert place to deposit 
their money. 
Some of these Arabs live to bo 125 years 
old; they continue to bury their wealth as 
long as they live; they are reputed to be 
wealthy, because they have much wealth 
buried ; increase of riches make scarce any 
difference in their indulgence, or mode of 
life. In their old age, they forget where 
the articles are deposited, and die without 
ever leaving anything for thoir children. 
It is supposed that not less than a million 
dollars in value is thus buried annually! 
and tho time will como when tho searching 
for. and recovering of this hidden wealth, 
will bo an extensive and profitable business. 
The failings of good men are commonly 
more published in the world than their good 
deeds; and one fault of a well-deserving 
man shall meet with moro reproaches than 
all his virtues praise: such is the force of ill- 
will and ill-nature. 
Hopes and cares, anxieties and fears, di¬ 
vide our life. Would you bo free from these 
anxieties ? think every day will be your last, 
and then the succeeding will be the more 
wclcomo, because unexpected. 
SIBERIAN COLD. 
A traveler in Siberia, during the winter, 
is so enveloped in furs, that he can scarcely 
move ; and under the thick fur hood, which 
is fastened to tho bear skin collar, and covers 
the whole face, ono can only draw in, as it 
wore, by stealth, a little of the external air, 
which is so keen that it causes a very pecu¬ 
liar and painful feeling in tho throat and 
lungs. The distance from ono halting place 
to another takes about ten hours, during 
which time the traveler must always con¬ 
tinue on horseback, as the cumbrous dress 
makes it insupportable to wade through the 
snow. The poor horses suffer at least as 
much as their riders, for besides the general 
effect of the cold, they are tormented by 
ice forming in their nostrils, and stopping 
their breathing. When they intimate this, 
by a distressed snort and a convulsive shak¬ 
ing of the head, the driver relieves them by 
taking out tho piece of ice, to save them 
from being suffocated. When the icy ground 
is not covered by snow thoir hoofs often 
burst from the effects of the cold. 
Tho caravan is always surrounded by a 
thick cloud of vapor; it is not only living 
bodies which produco this effect, but even 
the snow smokes. These evaporations are 
instantly changed into millions of needles 
of ice, which fill tho air. and cause a con¬ 
stant slight noise, resembling the sound of 
torn satin or thick silk. Even tho reindeer 
seeks the forest to protect himself from tho 
intensity of tho cold. In tho Tundras, 
where there is no shelter to be found, the 
whole herd crowd together as close as pos¬ 
sible to gain a little warmth from each oth¬ 
er. and may bo seen standing in this way 
quite motionless Only tho dark bird of 
winter, the raven, still cleaves tho icy air 
with slow and heavy wing, leaving behind 
him a long line of thin vapor, marking the 
track of his solitary flight. 
SOCIETY IN MINNESOTA. 
A correspondent of tho Tribune, writing 
from St. Pauls, gives us an insight into so¬ 
ciety at that remote city : 
The society is a peculiar conglomeration 
of attractive and repelling elements, reach- 
i ing through all shades of colour, from tho 
! bronzed savage to the smoothly-polished 
j Circassian ; and that confusion of tongues, 
, which distracted the builders of the Tower 
I of Babel, was no comparison to the St. 
Paulian jargon. The Sioux, the French, 
the Patois, Dutch, German, Norwegian, 
Irish, English and American, alternately 
salute you in the street. Tho prevailing 
fashion for dress is just what we can get. 
The old Dutch woman sports a short gown 
and petticoat, and such ot tho upper crust 
as brought a good stock of clothing from be¬ 
low, swell along a. la Oriental. There is a 
i circle ot ladies here—and one who should 
ever bo mentioned with great respect and 
honor, as everybody esteems her, not more 
for her liberality than for her personal kind¬ 
ness and affability, is Mrs. Gov. Ramsey; 
—a circle that would be an ornament 
j to any city. Intelligent, accomplished, 
j and entirely free from vulgar affectation. 
There are but very few drones here,—every¬ 
body is busy, with no idle monied aristo¬ 
crats to tyrannise over tho industrious poor. 
The governor is a whig in politics, but a 
social democrat in feeling, and indeed socia¬ 
bility characterizes the town. All here are 
strangers from different parts; all adven¬ 
turers ; all industrious, generally very or¬ 
derly, and, consequently, very prosperous 
and happy.” 
CHEMICAL EXPERIMENT. 
Not many days ago a very interesting ex¬ 
periment was tried in this city to ascertain 
the amount of oxygen necessary to support 
life. Six hundred persons were placed in a 
hall in one of the hotels, all the doors and 
windows were closed, and tho experiment 
began. During tho first half hour nothing 
special was observed except an universal 
I drowsiness, which was warded off as long as 
i possible by an ingenious device of tho ex- 
j perimenter. in the shape of an eloquent lec¬ 
ture. During tho second half hour several 
sank into a deep sleep, from which it was 
impossible to rouse them, and a few fainted. 
At the end of the third half hour it was 
deemed unsafe to continue the experiment 
longer, and tho fact was considered estab¬ 
lished that, under these circumstances life 
would not become extinct within the space 
of ninety-five minutes.— Chicago Tribune. 
This experiment was doubtless chemically 
satisfactory, but very imprudent neverthe¬ 
less. Human lifo was imminently endan¬ 
gered and foolishly tampered with. Sup¬ 
pose one of the number had diod ? 
An American, now travelling in Europe, 
says that “Dutch babies are the most 
phlegmatic, contented, independent looking 
creatures on the face of tho globe. They 
never cry. In order to test this, I pinched 
several of them as I passed in tho crowd.— 
Ono of them slightly yawned; tho others 
merely gazed placidly at me, but made no 
sign.” Model babies those. 
No man who improves his leisure hours 
in useful reading and study, can fail of be¬ 
coming distinguished and useful in his pro¬ 
fession— while ho who sponds his time in 
idleness or solf-indulgence, is sure to occupy 
an inferior position in life. 
To attempt to enchain a husband’s affec¬ 
tions, whether of body or mind, without the 
sense and the heart, which alone can pre¬ 
serve them, is about as wise as to try to 
form a garland of flowers only, without tho 
stalks. 
In tho mouth of tho foolish is a rod of 
pride; but tho lips of the wise shall preserve 
them. 
% inhits. 
LITTLE NELL. j 
She was not wise, but she was fair, / 
Bright as the rosebuds in her hair; ( 
I never saw her soft eyes look ' 
Upon the pages of a book; j 
Oh no]! bright little Nell, no 1 ^ 
’Twould make them dull, I told her so. < 
She was not learned, hut she to me j 
Was Nature’s sweetest poetry; , 
Those golden curls, I see them now < 
Sweep liko a sunbeam on her brow; ( 
No great thoughts puzzled that bright head, ( 
They made it ache, so Nellie said. 
i 
She was not wise, but, oh her eye 1 
Melted with gentlest sympathy; 
When clouds lay heavy on my way 
Bright Nellie chased them ail away; i 
Sweet, simple child—she did not know 1 
What in her heart made sunshine so. 
She was not learned —but oh her face 
Had such a pure, a loving grace, 
The angels loved it. and they bore 
Our Nellie to a brighter shore; 
I saw the laughing iips grow still, 
Sweet Nellie sleeps beneath the hill. 
N. Y. Magazine fur Feb. 
MATCH-MAKING. 
Of all the evils which civilization has en¬ 
tailed on us, few are more worthy of hearty 
condemnation than tho inveterate spirit of 
match-making, that pervades evory atom of 
society. The importance of securing a hus¬ 
band and avoiding tho stigma attached to 
old maidism, is inculcated on the tender 
mind of the young woman as tho first and 
most urgent duty. She, her parents, friends 
and acquaintances, join in admiring the good 
sense and good fortune of such of her com¬ 
panions as marry early or make wealthy 
matches, while the romantic creature who 
has the hardihood to refuse a “ good offer” 
is held up as an object of reprobation, and 
her conduct is condemned as the height of 
folly. No matter what the mental, moral 
or personal qualities of the aspirant may be, 
if he is able and likely to make a “ good 
provider,” a woman is bound to accept him, 
and consider herself very fortunate. I once 
heard it seriously said, while discussing the 
merits of a rumored match, that a “ swind¬ 
ler might make a very good husband—de¬ 
cidedly better than no husband at ail.” 
It is painfully ludicrous to observe tho 
various manifestations of this spirit—to see 
with what unwearied politeness fathers and 
mothers play the agreeable to unremark¬ 
able young men whose chief merit consists 
in their being bachelors—to see young 
widows eagerly inviting their young friends 
to come often and visit them socially and 
bring their beaux ; and, above all, to see the 
total indifference with which most young 
ladies treat those who are not marrying 
men. They seem to consider it perfect 
waste of time to talk to an old bachelor or 
married man, and prefer listening to the 
most vapid nonsense from the lips of one 
whom thoir imagination can convert into a 
lover, to joining in a rational conversation 
which can have no effect upon their hymo- 
nial prospects. Some persons from a sense 
of propriety, endeavor to conceal their 
match-making plans under the veil of hos¬ 
pitality ; but others como out boldly. For 
instance, an old lady with a daughter-full 
house, not long since asked a friend of mine, 
Mr. A. to introduce some bachelors to her 
family, informing him that her eldest daugh¬ 
ters were marriageable, and that each at 
wedding would be made mistress of a small 
house and a couple of negroes. 
Mr. A. accordingly introduced Mr. B. who 
on his first visit spent the evening and was 
very much pleased with the young ladies. 
Being no Romeo, but a cool, moderate man, 
he let several days elapse without repeating 
his visit, whereupon the old lady, getting 
uneasy, went to the office of Mr. A. to in¬ 
quire why his friend had not called again, 
and if he was displeased. What is to be 
expected of a woman educated in such a 
school ? They are almost certain to culti¬ 
vate only those accomplishments which are 
convertible only into matrimonial capital. 
They play on the piano forte, sing, dance, 
and talk small talk, while mere domestic ac¬ 
quirements are generally neglected. 
Some parents, however, belonging to the 
new school, whose motto is that the way 
“ to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” 
have their daughters initiated into the mys¬ 
teries of the kitchen, in which case young 
men are generally invited to dinner, and 
always informed, accidentally, of course, 
that certain dishes were prepared—or, if at 
all aristocratic, superintended—by “ my or 
our daughter.” This over anxiety to secure 
husbands, and especially rich ones, besides 
its injurious effects on female character, is 
the cause of nine-tenths of tho unhappy 
marriages we see—now hurrying its posses¬ 
sors into inferior matches from a dread of 
never getting other chances, and again in¬ 
ducing them to refuse those whom they 
really prefer, and who are perfectly unex¬ 
ceptionable, from a false ambition. Tho 
remedy for all this lies in cultivating their 
minds and hearts; in-teaching them that 
wedlock is not always a blessing; that if 
entered upon from unworthy motives, it is 
likely to become a curse, and that it is far 
beftet to remain single than to marry for 
the purpose of bettering onos condition.— 
Mrs. Jl. S. J\“ichols. 
Hope is the last thing that dies in man ; 
and, though it bo exceeding deceitful, jot 
it is of this good use to us, that whiio we are 
travelling through this life it conducts us 
through an easier and moro pleasant path 
to our journey’s end. 
Great poots are liko great mountains— 
they havo many echoes.— Victor Hugo. 
Slw.j': j v a ■ 
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