MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
MARRIAGE AND STOCKINGS. 
UPS AND DOWNS OF WINTER. 
Still their position was far from being en- 
viablo; sixty persons crowded into one room, 
sleeping on straw and receiving the insults 
of an ungenerous foe, were not likely to 
prefer such accommodations and such treat¬ 
ment boforo liberty, even in camp at Valley 
Forgo. 
The prison where they were confined was 
built of stone, tho foundations of which were 
sunk six or seven feet below tho surface of 
tho ground. It had a ground floor, and 
communicated with a large yard, which was 
constantly guarded with soldiors. Tho out¬ 
side of tho prison was also guarded, so that 
an escapo was a difficult matter to effect. 
Upon examining tho ground, however, it was 
resolved to attempt digging a passago under 
their prison walls. They had nothing to 
work with but a broken spade; with this 
thoy commenced operations on tho south 
sido of tho prison. Thoy could work but 
at short intervals, for tho guard passed the 
door at every round, and tho room was visi¬ 
ted at every relief guard ; bosides this, there 
wero other difficulties, tho earth thrown out 
must bo hidden, and tho cavity itself con¬ 
cealed. Thoy pursued tho work faithfully, 
however, digging with their hands, and 
changing frequently, so that in tho course 
of about two months they had a passage 
completed, except tho opening on tho out- 
We find the following revised copy of this 
well-turned letter in tho Troy Budget. 
Troy Female Seminary, Dec. 10, 1829. 
To JoitnD. Willard, Esq —Dear Cousin: 
Herewith you will receive a present of a pair 
of woolen stockings, knit by my own hands; 
and’be assured, dear coz.,thatmy friendship 
for you is warm as tho material, active as 
the fingenvork, and generous as the dona¬ 
tion. 
But I consider this present, as peculiarly 
appropriate ou the occasion of your mar¬ 
riage. You will mark firstly, that hero 
are two individuals joined in ono pair, who 
are to walk sido by side, guarding against 
coldness, and giving comfort, as long as they 
last. The thread of their texture is mixed, 
and so, alas ! is tho thread of life. In these 
threads, however, the white is made to pre¬ 
dominate,—expressing my desire and con¬ 
fidence that thus it will be with the color of 
your lives. No black is used, for I believe 
that your lives will bo wholly free from tho 
black passions of wrath and jealousy. Tho 
darkest color hero is blue, which is excellent, 
when we do not make it too blue. 
Other appropriate thoughts rise to my 
mind in regarding thoso stockings. Tho 
most indifferent subjects, when viewod by 
the mind in a suitablo frame, may furnish 
instructive inferences, as saitli tho poet, 
“ The iron (logs, the peel and tongs, 
The bellows that have leathern lungs. 
The fire, wood, ashes, and the smoke, 
Do all to righteousness provoke.” 
But to the subject—you will perceive that 
the tops of these stockings, (by which I sup¬ 
pose courtship to be represented,) are seamed, 
and by means of seeming are drawn into a 
pucker; but afterwards comes a time when 
the whole is made plain, and so continues to 
the end and final toeing off. By this I wish 
you to tako occasion to congratulate your¬ 
self. that you are now through with seeming 
and are come to plain sailing. 
Again as tho whole of these comely stock¬ 
ings was not made at once, but by the ad¬ 
dition of one little stitch after another, put 
in with skill and discretion until the whole 
presents the fair and equal place of work 
which you see; so life does not consist of 
one great action, but millions of little ones 
combined ; and so may it be with your lives 
—no stitch dropped when duties are to bo 
done, no widonings made, when bad princi¬ 
ples aro to be reproved, or economy is to be 
preserved—neither seeming nor narrowing 
when truth and generosity are in question ; 
but every stitch of life made right aud set in 
the right place, nono either too large or too 
small, too tight or too loose—thus may you 
keep on your smooth and even course, ma- 
• king existence one fair and consistent piece, 
until havin; 
Wiiat a bland, courteous old gentleman 
is the winter of 1852—3 ! Mark with what 
a serene look he sends tho floods of sunshine 
up and down the valley and over the hills 
and through the shaggy pines along their 
tops till tho wholo universe soems all aglow. 
It seems quite as though next summer had 
come, but had forgotten to bring the birds 
and bees with it. Tho air drifts along as 
softly as in June. Far off to the south, just 
whero tho blue of tho hills and the blue 
of the sky are mingling together, there 
spreads an autumn-like haze that reminds 
us of corn-huskings and orchards loaded 
down with fruit. Along the hill-sides, hero 
and there, lie a few patches of snow under 
tho lee of the fences and hay-stacks, like 
straggling soldiers of an army on the retreat. 
Tho warm airs have proved too much for 
the sturdy drifts that the storms of a few 
days ago wero piling so heroically along tho 
streets, and they have slipped away in si¬ 
lence. Nobody took note of thoir depart¬ 
ure save tho boy who was lucky enough to 
own a sled and had leisure to use it. Ilow 
many a boyish hoart thero is lamenting the 
loss of tho snow ! 
And, as if to suit tho fancies of that samo 
sad-hearted boy, lo ! what a change tho 
next twenty-four hours bring. Tho cold 
blue sky seems to look suddenly as chill as 
if an iceberg wero hanging its sparkling 
peaks over your head. The wind, that has 
been breathing through the valley all day 
long, 
—“from the land of the orange and vine, 
Where the flowers ever blossom, tho beams ever shine," 
all at once hauls round to the north, and 
begins to pipe through the skies like a squall 
in the Bay of Fundy. You go to bed shiv¬ 
ering, and while the storm keeps up its antics 
out of doors, whisking around corners and 
shouting like a demon down the chimney, 
you dream of a ride in the cars, and the 
elittor-clatter of tho wheels and tho infernal 
screech of tho whistlo aro racing through 
your brain all night. In the morning you 
get up and find tho water in the pail a clump 
of polar ice. Tho windows arc fantastically 
pictured over with castles and forests and 
tropic-looking grasses which frost-fingers 
have been busy in sketching while you have 
slept. Tho front door is banked with snow. 
Snow-drifts hide the fences, and curl all 
over tho yard in wreaths as funnily shaped 
as a Turkish turban. Tho old cow at tho 
barn peeps curiously out of the narrow win¬ 
dow and wonders what all this sudden flurry 
means. The shade trees seem to sweat un¬ 
der the labors of the night, and all over the 
valley and up on the hills and away off in 
tho gorges, where tho waters were roaring 
like mad a short day ago, it is all one wide 
uniform sea of whiteness. 
This is really an affable and most conde¬ 
scending winter.— Warsaw JY ’ew Yorker. 
REVERIE 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
Dear Mr. Moore :—The following lines were written 
by one of my school mates, who is so very timid she dared 
not even make an attempt at having them published. I 
am bolder, however, nnd have dared to address you, whom 
I have come to consider as a friend, from perusing the 
Rural New-Yorker, which I have actually learned to 
love. I trust you will pardon the seeming rudeness in thus 
addressing you. M. F. 
Lisbon, N. Y., Feb., 1853. 
BY GEORGE T. RYDER. 
Calm lakelet of the quiet wood 
Asleep in thy deep solitude, 
Under the old trees, grand and hoary, 
Tiiat stand and link their limbs above tliee 
A place the heart loves, far away 
From the glare of busy day, 
‘Where the restless tide of life— 
Where its turbulence and strife 
Scarcely stir the still repose : 
Here the stream of being flows 
Gently on, in sweetest measure, 
Bearing many a precious treasure, 
With a soothing, lulling motion, 
To its resting in the ocean. 
Sue is sleeping in the grave yard, 
Where the willow branches twine 
Their drooping houghs around lier- 
That sister dear of mine. 
The tall grass waving o’er her, 
The willow branches meet, 
And blend their mingled fragrance 
With the violets at her feet. 
Calm lakelet, fed from crystal fountain 
In tiie bosom of the mountain, 
Here all day, disconsolate, 
The dove sings sadly for her mate, 
And many a.fritteriug bird fiit§ by, 
And loses her song in the still deep sky. 
Calm lakelet, where the blue of heaven 
Unruffled lies from morn to even, 
And clouds of many a heavenly dye 
I,ike. heavenly thoughts, float tranquilly 
Adown thy dreamy slumberous sky; 
By night, away in thy caverns deep 
The lustrous stars their vigils keep— 
Pure lakelet, for thy purity, 
' Gives back again tlie sinless sky, 
Gives back the living fires of Heaven, 
The glories of the morn and even. 
AFTER THOUGHT. 
Calm as thy lakelet ever he 
Aud life shall ilow on peacefully, 
Thy trauquil hours shall come and go 
As careless wavelets ebb and flow, 
By day within thy happy breast 
Smiles from the unseen world shall rest, 
By night, pale stars of hope and love 
Shall mildly burn there from above, 
More'beautiful than more or even. 
For earth shall wear the glow of Heaven. 
She was a cherished treasure— 
Too good, too pure for earth 
And she left us in her beauty, 
Her innocence aud mirth. 
So we laid her in the grave yard, 
Where the willow brandies wave, 
With the cold earth for her pillow, 
In the dark and silent grave. 
With her white hands folded gently, 
Upon her pulseless breast, 
And a snowy shroud around her, 
We laid her there to rest. 
We have reared no polished marble 
Above her cherished head, 
To tell to careless strangers 
Where our treasured ono is laid. 
But the hearts of those who loved her, 
Their faithful vigils keep; 
They know without the marble, 
The spot where Mary sleeps: 
With the tall grass waving o'er her, 
And the bending willow nigh,— 
With the bright stars smiling sweetly, 
From the overhanging sky. 
Bessy. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. ] 
[ Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. ] 
MY THREE FRIENDS. 
AN INCIDENT OF. THE REVOLUTION. 
Catt. Oliver Clarke served under Gen. 
Greene during tho early part of the Revo¬ 
lution. The company under his command 
wero, with himself, taken prisoners by the 
British and taken to Philadelphia, and there 
thrown into prison. They were surprised 
while on a foraging expedition, by a superior 
force of tho British, and taken after a des¬ 
perate resistance. Tho sufferings of the 
American soldiers at Valley Forgo, during 
777 were, as is well known 
ig together passed the heel, you 
come to the very too of life; and here in the 
final narrowing off and dropping tho coil of 
this emblematical pair of warm companions, 
of comforting associates, nothing appears 
but white, the token of innocence and peace, 
of purity and light; and may you like these 
stockings, the final stitch being dropped, 
and the work completed, go together from 
the place where you were formed, to a hap¬ 
pier state of existence, a present from earth 
to heaven. 
Hoping that these stockings and admoni¬ 
tions may meet a cordial reception, 
I remain in true blue friendship, 
seemly yet without seeming, 
Yours from top to toe, 
Emma Willard. 
the wintor of 1 
to all American readers, extremely severe, 
from sickness, cold and famine. Poorly 
clad and nearly starved, it is almost incredi¬ 
ble to believe that an army of raw, undis¬ 
ciplined troops, should liavo held firm to 
thoir purpose and endured tho additional 
miseries of exposure to the rigors of a severe 
winter. But our brave soldiers wero men 
and Americans, and persevered. 
But to our story. The prisoners were all 
placed in a large room together, officers and 
privates, and forced to subsist on irregular, 
scanty allowances, whiio their conquerors 
were rioting in tho luxuries afl’orded by an 
opulent city, and the plunder of tho farming 
districts adjacent. Our prisoners saw that 
thoy must perish with hunger unless they 
obtained relief, and remonstrances were 
addressed to their captors, which woro re¬ 
ceived with abuse and ropaid with new in¬ 
dignities. 
At last Captain Clarke formed a plan by 
which to make known his situation to his 
Commander-in-Chiof, General Washington. 
There was a fire kept in tho prison, and a 
little negro boy attended to briging in wood, 
etc. Capt. Clarke gained tho services of 
this boy by persuasion and bribe, to supply 
him with paper and pencil, which the boy 
brought to him in the sleeve of his coat. 
Tho Captain then wrote a letter to General 
Washington, giving an account of thoir suf¬ 
ferings, and asking relief in some manner. 
The lettor was folded, and tho little negro 
brought in an armful of wood and sot down 
by tho fire. Tho plan was, to placo the 
letter in tho boy’s stocking, when ho was to 
proceed to tho house of a widow lady in tho 
city, and placo tho letter in her care. Just 
as tho negro was taking off his stocking, an 
officer of the guard camo in and ordered 
him out of the room. Captain Clarko, with 
ceeded back to his company. They all 
anxiously gathered around him, and he 
stated tho circumstances which existed, and 
which thoy must observe in their proceed¬ 
ings. Ho cautioned them not to bo in a 
hurry—thero could but one escapo at a 
time, and that haste would ruin all. They 
promised to obey his directions, and he 
again aroso to tho outside, and made good 
his way to the house of his friond, the samo 
lady who conveyed tho letter to Washing¬ 
ton. Hero ho was secreted in a pilo of flax 
in tho garret, whero ho romained for three 
days, until the hue and cry was over, and 
then mado his way to tho American camp. 
Meanwhile the prisoners wero making 
their escapo one at a timo. About twenty- 
five soldiers mado their escapo in this man¬ 
ner, and tho moments began to seem ages 
and tho anxiety 
THACKERAY ON DICKENS. 
In his last lccturo in Now York, Mr. 
Thackeray said : 
As to the characteristics of Dickens’ fer¬ 
vid pen, I think we all have reasons to be 
thankful to him for bringing such pleasures 
into our homes, and awakening in our hearts 
such kindly sympathies. There are many 
personages in Dickens’ writings which make 
us feel better for their acquaintance.— 
You come away better for your contact 
with them. Was thero ever a bettor charity 
sermon preached in the world than Dickens’ 
Christmas Carol? It was the means of 
lighting up hundreds of Christmas-fires, 
awakening numberless social sympathies.— 
As for this man’s love for children, that 
particular bump at the back part of head 
must be monstrous. I know two children, 
at least, who peruso his books ten times 
more assiduously than they do those of their 
father. 
I know ono girl who reads Nicholas Nick - 
elby when she is tired and when she is rest¬ 
ed ; when she is sad and when she is happy 
she reads Nicholas Nickleby; when sho is 
up and when sho is in bed sho roads Nich¬ 
olas Nickelby; and when she has read the 
book through—sho reads Nicholas Nickelby 
again. When ten years of age, sho said to 
me, * Pa, I like Mr. Dickens’ books better 
than yours ! ’ and sho expressed a desire that 
I should write such a book. But who can? 
What humor, and what genial sympathy 
plays around that book ! and who does not 
sympathize with Oliver Twist ? Who does 
not delight to contemplate Mr. Micawber, 
amid his various fortunes ? I recognizo in 
this genial author a beneficent mossenger of 
good ; and thankfully I take my share of 
that happiness which ho has so bountifully 
given to tho world. 
ART OF ARRANGING THE HATE. 
How often do we see a really good face 
made quite ugly by total inattention to lines. 
Sometimes the hair is pushed into the 
cheeks, and squared at tho forehead, so as 
to give a most extraordinary pinched shape. 
Let the oval, where it exists, be always pro- 
served ; where it is not, let the hair be so 
humored that the deficiency shall not be 
perceived. Nothing is more common than 
to see a face, which is somewhat too large 
below, made to look grossly large and coarse, 
the hair on the forehead and 
to those who wero waitin 
and suspense becamo so groat, that they 
could no longer proceed in tho slow manner 
in which they had been doing, and thoy at¬ 
tempted to escape two at a timo. The open¬ 
ing was too small for this, and thoy wore 
delayed in rising to tho surface until the 
guard turned, when he discovered them, and 
giving tho alarm, rushed up and was about 
to bayonet one of tho prisoners, a little,Cor- 
poral, who had just succeeded in gaining the 
surface. Tho Corporal avoided tho bayonot 
by a spring, and then catching hold of tho 
bayonet, wrenched it from tho musket and 
ran with it in his hand. Tho other prison¬ 
ers woro secured in irons, and fresh rigors 
added to their treatment. Tho little Cor¬ 
poral got to tho American camp, and pre¬ 
sented his bayonet as a trophy. Thero 
wero several who escaped who did not fare 
as well as did tho Corporal and Captain 
Clarke,—for thoy wero retaken, and ironed 
by contracting 
cheeks, and Thero bringing it to an abrupt 
check; whereas such a face should enlarge 
the forehead and the cheek, and let the hair 
fall partially over, so as to shade and soften 
off the lower exuberance. 
A good treatise, with examples in outline 
of the defects, would be of some value upon 
a lady’s toilet, who would wish to preserve 
her great privilege—the supremacy of beau¬ 
ty. Some dress the hair down close to the 
face, which is to lose the very characteristic 
of hair—ease and freedom. Let her locks, 
says Anacreon, lie as they like; tho Greek 
gives them life, and a will. Some ladies 
wear the hair like blinkers; you always sus¬ 
pect they will shy if you approach them.— 
A lady’s head-dress, whether in a portrait or 
for her daily wear, should, as in old por¬ 
traits by Rembrant and Titian, go off into 
shade, not to bo seen too clearly, and hard 
all around ; should not, in fact, be isolated, 
as if out of sympathy with all surrounding 
nature. Tho wigs of men of Charles 11.’s 
time had at least that one merit of floating 
into the back-ground, and in their fall soft¬ 
ening tho sharpness of the lines of the dress 
about them.— Blackivood. 
AN ERECT POSITION. 
A writer on health very justly condemns 
the habit of lounging, in which a large num¬ 
ber of persons indulge, as injurious to health. 
Ho says—“ An orect bodily attitude is of 
vastly more importance to health than is 
easily imagined. Crooked bodily positions, 
maintained for any length of time, aro al¬ 
ways injurious, whether in tho sitting, stand¬ 
ing, or lying posturo, whether sleeping or 
walking. To sit with tho body leaning for¬ 
ward on tho stomach or to one sido, witli 
tho heel elevated to a level with the head, 
is not only in bad taste, but exceedingly 
detrimental to health. It cramps tho stom¬ 
ach, pressos tho vital organs, interrupts tho 
free motion of tho chest, and enfeebles tho 
functions of tho abdominal and thoracic or¬ 
gans, and, in fact, unbalances tho whole 
muscular system. Many childron becamo 
humpbacked, or severely round-shouldered 
by sleeping with the head raised on a high 
pillow. "When a person finds it easier to sit 
or stand, or walk or sleep, in a crooked po¬ 
sition than a straight ono, such a person 
may be sure his muscular system is badly 
deranged; and tho more carol'ul he is to pre¬ 
serve a straight or upright position, and get 
back to nature again, the better.” 
Albion, N. Y., Feb., 1853. 
MUTUAL FORBEARANCE. 
That house will be kept in turmoil where 
there is no tolerance of each other’s errors, 
no lenity shown to failings, no meek sub¬ 
mission to injuries, no soft answer to turn 
away wrath. If you lay a single stick of 
wood upon tho andirons and apply fire to it, 
it will go out; put on another stick, and 
they will burn ; add half a dozen, and you 
will have a grand conflagration. There are 
other fires subject to tho same conditions.— 
If one member of a family get into a pas¬ 
sion. and is let alone, he will cool down, and 
possibly bo ashamed and repent. But op¬ 
pose temper to temper, pilo on the fuel; 
draw in tho others of tho group, and lot one 
harsh answer bo followed by anothor, and 
there will soon bo a blazo which will enwrap 
them in all its lurid splendor. 
The great moral want of the people.— 
What is the quality in which tho masses are 
so deficient :— self-restraint, the ability to 
sacrifice a small present gratification for a 
prospective great ono. A laborer, endowed 
with duo self-restraint, would never spend 
his Saturday-night’s wages at tho public 
house. Had he enough self-restraint, the 
artisan would not live up to his income 
during tho prosperous times, and leave the 
future unprovided for. Were there no 
drunkenoss, no extravagance, no reckless 
multiplication, social miseries would be trivi¬ 
al.— Social Tactics. 
From social intercourse are derived some 
of the highest enjoyments of lifo; where 
thero is a free interchange of sentiments, 
the mind acquires new ideas, and by a fre- 
quont exercise of its powers, the undersign¬ 
ed gains fresh vigor.— Addison. 
There are many doublings in tho human 
hoart; do not think you can find out tho 
whole of a man’s real character at once un¬ 
less he is a fool. 
M. Arago has estimated that about seven 
millions of comets frequont tho solar sys¬ 
tem, which, says a writer in Frazer, fully ac¬ 
counts for tho numbers annually discovered. 
A poor spirit is poorer than a poor purse. 
A very few pounds a year would ease a man 
of the scandal of avarice. 
Nothing is humbler than ambition when 
it is about to climb. 
