MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
(thuatioiuiL 
LANGUAGE NO. 3. 
In this communication, I design to intro 
duce a few of the attributes, characters, or 
qualities of language, that may prove in¬ 
structive. 
1st. General Principles. —These are not 
only found in all languages, but are the 
saino in all. Among these are the agree¬ 
ment of subject and predicate; (Nomina¬ 
tive and Verb;) of the attribute; (adject 
tivo,) and the thing described or limited, 
adjuncts, (modifiers of all kinds, adverbs 
phrases. &c., consisting of a preposition and 
its object, &c..) used to explain, limit, or de¬ 
fine the word, phrase, or sentiment to \vh ch 
they belong. So far, therefore, as general 
principles are concerned, all Treatises < n 
Grammar should be constructed alike; and 
the Rules of Syntax, that relate to this par; 
of grammor, should be essentially the same 
for every language. 
2d. Peculiarities. — These are those par 
ticular forms of expression, (exceptions to 
general principles.) that belong only to a 
particular language, or at most, to few, and 
are not the same in all. They are, first 
Idioms , or idiomatic forms of expression; 
i. o, such as occur in our language to tin 
exclusion of others ; as the impersonal use 
of the pronoun “ it." in such phrases as. “it 
rains,” “it snows,” &c. Also that puzzling 
form of the imperative mode, which Mr 
Murray very classically denominated the 
imperative of the first or second person ; as. 
“ Lot mo love,” “ let him love,” &c. The 
Idioms of each language being peculiar to 
itself, require peculiar, or particular rules 
of syntax; i. o. rules limited to the lan 
guage to which the Idiom belongs. 2d. 
Anomalies. These consist of those uncouth 
terms, “ mothinks,” “ methought,” “me 
seem 3 ,” &c., which, as their name imports 
being “out-laws,” form no part of gram¬ 
mar, and neither are, nor were over intend¬ 
ed to be, subject to any rules of syntax.— 
The business of the grammarian, therefore, 
is not to parse them, (they were never in¬ 
tended to be parsed,) but simply to explain 
and leave them. n. 
Down East, Feb., 1853. 
THE FORCING SYSTEM. 
The Educational Committee of Boston, 
offer a prize of $250 to the teacher who vvib 
present at least two children, averaging less 
than seven years of age, and who will read 
and spell the best. 
We had thought the forcing, hot-house 
system was pretty well exploded in the minds 
of all sensibe men ; and lo. here it starts up 
in Boston, the place of all others where we 
should least have expected it. The com 
petition produced by the public school sys¬ 
tem in largo cities, requires repression rather 
than stimulation. The struggle in tin- 
schools in this city, to produce the most 
pupils fit for the High School, is rather pro 
ductive of evil than goood. The mental 
powers of the pupils—especially of the ablest 
among them, those who should be rather 
held in than spurred forward—are tasked 
to their utmost extent; the hours between 
school, and the evenings, are employed in 
study ; the grain is prematurely exhausted, 
the physical constitution is enfeebled, and 
obstructed in its proper development; and 
the smart child grows at length into a p< - 
dantic, feeble and not overly intellectual 
man. 
The great fault of the public schools in 
this city, and doutless also in Boston, is thi- 
undue forcing of the mental powers of the 
more studious and intelligent children.— 
And for parents, or their representatives, to 
offer a premium to induce further forcing, 
more active stimulation on the part of teach¬ 
ers, shows a degreo of folly little short ol 
madness. 
Why is it. that intelligent children so often 
fail to realize in manhood the promise ol 
their youth? Because they are not only 
allowed, but encouraged, to task their intel¬ 
lects boyond their strength, and to mope in 
the houso over their books during play- 
hours, when they ought to be out in the 
fresh air, romping, playing ball, sliding 
skating, riding, &e. 
Take two men of naturally equal mental 
power. Give one a fine, well-developed 
physical frame, and the other a weak, puny 
body, and the result will be, that the former 
will far outshine the latter in all the pur¬ 
suits of life. For the brain connected with 
a vigorous body, partakes of the general 
vigor of the system, and fed by warm and 
generous blood, acts with a vividness and an 
enduranco which the brain of a woak, un¬ 
healthy man cannot realize. 
Therefore, if you would have your chil¬ 
dren exhibit the full degreo of mental power 
of which their natures are capable, see to it 
that they have full timo and opportunity for 
active, vigorous sports. Discourage the per¬ 
petual round of lessons to bo loarnnd out of 
school, which are the curse of childhood.— 
Look at your pale, loan, cadaverous children: 
and rest not till a different course of treat¬ 
ment has restored the color to their cheeks, 
the roundness and vigor to their limbs.— 
Even if they do not succeed in getting so 
much book learning—what of it? They will 
have something infinitely better—yes, in¬ 
finitely bettor—“ a sound mind in a sound 
body; which makes able, resolute, high- 
minded, wise men and women—something 
far better than mere loarned, hopeless fools. 
And even as to mere book learning, we 
are not certain but that they will have more 
even of this at the age of twenty-five, than 
ir an opposite course had been pursued.— 
For tlic mind of a young person, whose phys¬ 
ical constitution has been properly devel¬ 
oped, acquires all kinds of knowledge very 
rapidly, and retains it too. YVo question, 
lor that matter, whether a country boy, who 
only goes to school i'or three or four months 
in the winter, does not learn as much in that 
time as a city boy docs in the whole year. 
But in cases where considerable book 
learning is necessay, as in preparing for a 
profession, let a good groundwork first be 
aid in ear y yesrs, by the development of 
the physical powers. Let not the weight of 
study be laid upon the frame until it has 
been tolerably well developed. And. even 
then, let tiio student learn that haste is not 
always speed. Let him continue to devote 
several hours each day to the long walk—or. 
vlncli is much In tter, (for thinking too often 
accompanies even rapid walking.) let him 
ride ^not drive.) play quoits or ball, or ex¬ 
orcise moderately in a gymnasium. So far 
rom his studies being retarded by such a 
course, they will be accelerated. 
Man is a three-fold being, of body, mind 
and soul, and vainly do we attempt to culti¬ 
vate one of bis elements to the exclusion ol 
-be others. Bodily and spiritual develop¬ 
ment—health and goodness—are necessary 
to the proper development of the intellect. 
If we could build up either body, mind, or 
soul to the exclusion of its companions, we 
should build up something more or less a 
monster, not a true, harmonious, well-de¬ 
veloped man. Let every wise parent then 
see to it that his child receives a proper ed¬ 
ucation in all the three great departments 
of his nature, and not allow him to be manu¬ 
factured (as far as possible) into either a 
mere animal, a mere pedant, or a ntoro de¬ 
votee. But strive to make him. by a proper 
and harmonious cultivation of body, mind 
a id spirit, something more than an animal, 
•is to the physical, something more than a 
pedant in the intellectual, and something 
more devout than a devotee in the spiritual 
—in other words, a perfect, full-proportion¬ 
ed Mall. 
THE BEAUTIFUL. 
There is more true poetry in the follow¬ 
ing than some writers get into a hundred 
stanzas of faultless rhymes : 
Who loves not a little child’s appreciation 
of the beautiful ? Its innocent eyes see 
what ours, long trained, always fall to notice, 
the loveliim-s and perfectness of humble 
things. We, grown, full of learning and 
tricked out with fashion, think that to see 
arand sights wo must go to Europe, gaze on 
Alps towering over Alps, ambitious for the 
nearer smile of Heaven. Muse in the midst 
of the sombre splendor that haunts dim 
cloisters in old cathedrals. Watch the sun¬ 
beams braiding their light into wreaths of 
gorgeous dyes, and hanging them over the 
grand brow of some ocean iceberg. 
Pity we could not borrow the spirit of tho 
little child, and feel that everything made 
by the Father, whether it kiss the ground, 
or gem the sky, is well worth seeing, and 
beautiful of its kind. Pity we had not the 
faith of “one of these little ones,” to read 
a miracle in the changing dew-drop. 
Go where ye will, the broad earth bears 
the beautiful; it springs like hope from sor¬ 
row over the ashes of the dead. It lies nest¬ 
ling upon the b >som of the mother. It is 
with us when we open our eyes to the morn¬ 
ing. and the curtain of night shuts its vis- 
dons in our hearts. It springs like the 
llower from the hud,out of a happy thought. 
It floats down like Elijah’s mantle, and an¬ 
gels fold it about us when we kneel at tho 
(he shrine of prayer. 
Oh ! toll us whore the beautiful is not? 
N-iy! we recall the aspiration. We would 
have the beautiful forever in our sight, as 
was the pillar of fire by night and cloud by 
day. to the heaven-led Israelites. 
And when we come to the last hour, we 
would have ho gloomy fears about our dy¬ 
ing bed but beams, many and bright, falling 
from Eternity upon us. making at the last 
oven death beautiful. — O. Branch. 
DON’T BE MELANCHOLY. 
If wo would habituate ourselves to look 
upon the pleasant side of things, to rejoice 
over what we have, and grieve not for what 
is not, we should find ourselves much more 
pleasantly handled than wo usually are.— 
We conceive it. to be a sharne, and, when re¬ 
garded in its connections, a sin, to bo mop¬ 
ing about under such bright skies and over 
such pleasant fields with “ the blues” on.— 
Boys should bo taught to cover up their 
melancholy thoughts as they would bury 
out of sight their dead canaries. Girls 
should be educated to tho notion that “ the 
demps” are not genteel, and that to bo sad 
when there is no good grounds for it is vul¬ 
gar. Just as tho tree is bent. &c. A genera¬ 
tion we lmpo for, who will hold it a religious 
duty to reflect the happy faco of nature from 
their happy faces. Everything so universal¬ 
ly wheels into tho right lino at last and 
proves that “it is all for the best,” that we 
verily believe a very long faco ought to be 
put down as a nuisanco in tho street, and a 
boro within doors ; and if that were not suf¬ 
ficient to abate it let it bo authoritatively 
announced that it will be considered the 
black Hag thrown out as a token of an evil 
conscience. Sorrow is sacred, and grief is 
not always to bo avoided. But melancholy 
is a humbug, a sham, and a—, a—, an im¬ 
proper thing generally, and.—mind, wo 
speak with a reservation to avoid tho anathe¬ 
mas of young iadies and poets.—in our opin¬ 
ion a very unpleasant mental habit.—A*. ¥. 
Times. 
The way to gain a good reputation, is to 
endeavor to bo what you desire to appear. 
Hr 
BLACK GAFFED TITMOUSE OR CHICKADEE. 
This little fellow is a great favorite with 
all. being among tho few birds that remain 
with us during tho whole year, in winter 
ipproaching tho house to pick up crumbs of 
bread and the refuse of the pantry. At 
such times, he becomes very tame. You 
may see him almost any day. at this season 
of the year, whether you iivo in town or 
country, as lie seldom fails of visiting the 
wood-pile, apple-tree, currant or rose bushes, 
and sometimes resting upon the window sill, 
and if a few crumbs of bread are thrown out 
to him, ho is sure to renew his visit, bringing 
some of his companions with him, when it 
is very curious and amusing, to see how 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
INSTINCT OF THE LOWER ANIMALS. 
Among the many amusements which natu¬ 
ral history affords, is the study of the in¬ 
stinct of the lower animals. This endow¬ 
ment seems, in some of its manifestations, 
to partake of the character of reason; and 
here and there a writer has confounded it 
therewith. But I am inclined to think that 
it is wholly an innate principle, bestowed by 
infinite wisdom, as a substitute for judgment 
and other capacities of mind. The fact that 
the beaver accommodates his habitation to 
tho peculiarities in situation of tho spot se¬ 
lected and the circumstances of the ad ja¬ 
cent country, I cannot regard, as Smellie 
doos, as an evidence of rationality on the 
part of this amphibious architect. The 
same instinct which taught the first beaver 
to build his structure with the samo degree 
of skill that is now exhibited, would, it is 
reasonable to suppose, teach him to adopt 
his house to the position of things about 
him, and to emigrate when tho necessities 
of tho case required it. 
There is a vast difference between the 
understanding of man, and any manifesta¬ 
tion of tho lower animals. Addison, in No. 
120 of The Spectator, says : “ One would 
wonder to hear skeptical men disputing for 
the reason of animals, and telling us it is 
only our pride and prejudices that will not 
allow them the use of that faculty. Reason 
shows itself in all occurrences of man’s life; 
whereas the bruto makes no discovery of 
such a talent, but in what immediately re¬ 
gards his preservation, or the continuance 
of his species. Animals in their generations 
are wiser than the sons of men ; but their 
wisdom is confined to a few particulars, and 
lios in a very narrow compass. Take a 
bruto out of his instinct, and you find him 
wholly doprived of understanding.” 
Some writers speak of two kinds of in¬ 
stinct, pure and improved. As an example 
of pure instinct, Smellie cites tho young bird 
opening its mouth when tho parent bird 
comes fluttering to tho riost, or when any 
noise is mado in its vicinity—just as we once 
saw a young crow open its mouth, when a 
naughty playmate of ours whistled in its 
face and then Hung a quid of tobacco down 
its throat! Tho samo author gives as an 
oxamplo of educated instinct, or instinct 
taught by observation, a honey boo deepen¬ 
ing its cells when cramped for room. But 
this doos not strike us as a happy illustra¬ 
tion, for wherein is the greater display of 
instinct in tho geometrical beauty of the 
cell as originally constructed, or in tho sim¬ 
ple process of its augmentation ? Would 
not tho samo instinct which guidod it in 
building a cell without a model, hint a meth¬ 
od of removing the difficulty when that cell 
became too small. 
However, there are examples, numerous 
and striking, of instincts which seem to bo 
improvable by experience and observation ; 
and in a paper under contemplation, on 
the power of cultivation in tho lower ani¬ 
mals, I may revert to this branch of tho 
subject. 
Before concluding, I wish to say a few 
words on the great losson taught by the 
instinct of animals—the lesson that there 
is a God. In Addison’s essay, from which 
I have already quoted, tho author gives it 
as his opinion that “ tho arguments for 
Providence drawn from the natural history 
of animals,” are demonstrative; and after 
referring to tho peculiar fitness of every 
turn and twist of muscle and fibre in each 
animal, to promote the comfort or conve¬ 
nience of that particular animal’s mode of 
| cheerful and happy they are, while, with 
their little naked feet, they hop about on 
the snow, and among tho frozen branches, 
often repeating their few lively notes, which 
sound very much like jfoonouncing the word 
chick-ti-de-dc. 
This bird is found as far north as the re 
gion of Hudson’s Bay, where they are seen 
in great numbers about tho habitations of 
the traders in winter, in search of food. 
About the middle of Ap i! they bu 11 their 
nest, choosing tho deserted hole of a squirrel 
or woodpecker. The female lays from six 
to eight eggs, and raises two broods in a 
year.— Youth’s Casket. 
living, as an evidence of Omniscent design, 
he launches into the subject of instinct, and 
makes it very,plain that its origin is divine. 
The principle which teachos insoets and 
sorno kinds of fishes to cast their eggs at 
hap-hazard, and to immediately forsake 
them; tho serpent, the crocodile and some 
other animals to make nests, thorein de¬ 
posit their eggs, and then leave them; and 
most birds to sit upon and hatch their eggs 
and tend the helpless offspring, must he an 
emanation from infinite intelligence. The 
same must be the case, Addison thinks, with 
that instinct in the hen, which prompts her 
—an animal too stupid to know the differ¬ 
ence between an egg and a piece of chalk 
—to turn her eggs, that no part may suffer 
from lack of vital heat; to leave them but 
a short time in cold weather, when in pur¬ 
suit of food, and longer in warm weather 
when on the samo errand ; and to assist the 
chick in breaking the shell when the po 
riod for its egress arrives. But it seems 
needless to pursuo this subject farther; for 
instinct, in all its diversified manifestations, 
is pregnant with divinity. “ I look upon it 
as upon tho principle of gravitation in 
bodies, which is not to bo explained by any 
known qualities inherent in bodies them¬ 
selves, nor from tho laws of mechanism, but 
according to the best notions of tho great¬ 
est philosophers, is an immediate impres¬ 
sion from the first Mover, and tho divine 
energy acting in tho creatures.” j. c. 
Buffalo, Feb. 4th, 1853. 
WONDERFUL TREES. 
Among the remarkable trees in tho world, 
the following, of which wo have compiled 
brief descriptions, are some of tho most 
curious : 
The Dwarf Tree. —Captains King and 
Fitzroy state that they saw a tree on the 
mountains near Capo Horn, which was only 
one or two inches high, yet had branches 
spreading out four or five feet along the 
ground. 
The Sack Tree. —There is said to ho a 
tree in Bombay called sack tree, because 
f.tom it may be stripped very singular natu¬ 
ral sacks, which resemble ‘felt’ in appear¬ 
ance. 
The Tallow Tree. —This treo is found 
in China. It is called tho tallow tree, bo 
cause a substance is obtained from it resem¬ 
bling tallow, and is used for that purpose. 
It grows from twenty to forty feet in height. 
The Great Chestnut Tree. —On the one 
side of Mount yEcna. there is a famous chest¬ 
nut treo, which is said to bo one hundred 
and ninety-six feet in circumference, just 
above the surface of the ground. Its enor¬ 
mous trunk is seporated into fivo divisions, 
which gives it the appearance of several 
trees growing together. In a circular space 
formed by these large branches, a but has 
been erected for the accommodation of those 
who collect the chestnuts. 
The Sorrowful Tree. —At Goa, near 
Bombay, there is a singular vegetable—the 
sorrowful tree—so called because it only 
flourishes in the night. At sunset no flow¬ 
ers are to bo seen; anil yet, half an hour af¬ 
ter, it is quite full of thorn. They yield a 
sweet smell, but tho sun no sooner begins 
to shine upon them than some of them fall 
off, and others close up; and thus it con¬ 
tinues flowering in tho night all tho year. 
Lace Bark Tree. — In the West Indiesis 
found a tree, the inner bark of which re¬ 
sembles lace or net work. This bark is very 
beautiful, consisting of layers which may bo 
pulled out into a fine wiiito web, three or 
four feet wide. It is sometimos used for 
ladies’ dresses.— Journal of Education. 
Locke was asked how ho had contrived to 
accumulate a mine of knowledge so rich, 
yet so extensive and deep. Ho replied that 
ho attributed what little he know, to not 
having been ashamed to ask for information, 
and to the rule he had laid down of convers¬ 
ing with all descriptions of men. on those 
topics chiefly that formed their own peculiar 
professions and pursuits. 
PRAYER FOR THE ILL AT EASE. 
Whes sickly thoughts or jarring nerves invade 
My morning sunshine or my evening shade; 
When the dark mood careers without control, 
And fear and faintness gather on my soul, 
O Lord, whose word is power, whose gift is peace, 
Bid my spent bosom’s tides and temples cease: 
Bid thy blest Jesus walk a stormier sea 
Thau ever chafed the azure Galilee; 
Or, if too soon my spirit craves for ease, 
Hallow the suttering llmt iliy love decrees; 
Work my soul's faith from out my body’s fears, 
And let me count my triumph in my tears 
Lord Carlisle, 1851. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE GOOD MAN. 
Our estimate of tho good man, is not that 
expressed in the loose thoughts and careless 
judgment which many persons entertain. A 
real, hearty, jovial fellow, exuberant with 
the spirit of fun and joke, whose eyes are 
wet with tears when ho hears a tale of suf¬ 
fering, whose hands are ready to give when 
ho sees an object of distress, whose honesty 
in business is unquestionable, yet who will 
drop a rude oath, engage in a gambling 
scrape once in a while, and when with boon 
companions, occasionally got tipsy, with the 
same laughing, easy nature that he would 
assist a friend or discharge a business trans¬ 
action ; how often such a person passes in 
certain circles for tho good man. But ho is 
far from being either the ideal or tho fact of 
tlio character of tho really good man. lie 
may have excellent traits, worthy of admi¬ 
ration. but when mingled with tho evils ho 
commits, he forms, as a whole, no ( xamplo 
for children to copy nor for adults to imi¬ 
tate. An individual holds up an apple be¬ 
fore mo, and bids mo observe how perfectly 
sound it appears. And so it does, on the 
side that meets my vision. But on the oth¬ 
er side, there is the rot of decay. Is it a 
good, sound apple ? Sound it is in one part, 
but while it is corrupt in another, is it, as a 
whole, a sound apple ? Certainly not. One 
thing you aro sure of, that if tho knife bo 
not applied to tho corrupt portion, the cor¬ 
ruption will spread through its whole sub¬ 
s’taneo, leaving nothing sound save the germs 
of goodness within. So with tho porsoi.s to 
whom we have referred. They can not be 
called good men, so long as they aro com¬ 
pounds of vice and virtue. They do not 
stand where the good man safely stands.— 
The ground they tread is treacherous. For 
how many of these easy, jovial men; men 
of impulse, but not of principle; men of 
fooling, but not of judgment; havo floated 
carelessly along, until evil lias predominated 
over all their habits, and they have gone 
down to a grave of ruined reputations, of 
blighted hopes, of suffering bodies, of troub¬ 
led minds, and of distressed friends. There 
are many such manly wrecks stranded on 
tho shores ot human life, whose memorial 
is not that which sacred history has given to 
Joseph of Arimathea, “he was a good mun 
and just.” 
By the good man, I refer to tho genuino 
Christian; to the man whoso conscience is 
as sensitive to wrong, as tho eye is to light; 
whoso actions spring from unwavering prin¬ 
ciple alone; who loves virtue and walks in 
it, becauso it is right to do so, and refuses 
to obey evil, becauso it is wrong to do so; 
whose word is a sacred obligation with him, 
always fulfilled so long us ho has power to 
fulfil; whoso sympathy is largo, ever flow¬ 
ing in active and refreshing streams to re¬ 
fresh and encourage the fainting ones about 
him; who loves to- see others happy, and 
doos what ho can to increase their enjoy¬ 
ment; who, in all tho relations of husband, 
parent, brother, sistor, child, friend, neigh¬ 
bor, citizen, is kind, gentlo, obliging, just 
and true ; whoso culture is so great, that ho 
is careful not to utter a word that will ex¬ 
cite unnecessary pain; who loves to be a 
peace-maker among his friends, stilling tho 
storm of passion by the voice of reason and 
kindness; whose reveronco for God is a deep 
sentiment of his soul; whose fellowship 
with tho Savior is ardent and sincere; 
whoso worship is to him a spring of clear, 
cool water, to which ho joyfully comes to 
refresh himself with new vigor; such an in¬ 
dividual is tho good man, the Christian man, 
tho glory of humanity, whose outspoken 
words and divine life form a divine argu¬ 
ment for virtue, for liberty, for the rights of 
man. IIo may err at times ; for who is en¬ 
tirely freo from infirmity ? but, his erring 
will be of tho judgment, not of will and in¬ 
tention. Yet he is tho good man, acknowl¬ 
edged as such in tho Court of Iloaven and 
so recognizod by every truo instinct of hu¬ 
manity. For of him will be written on tho 
page of each conscience and of all moral 
influence, he. is a “ good man and a just.” 
To presorvo tho entire liberty of < 
judgement, without being prepossessed 
false reasons, or protended authority, 
strength of mind whereof few are capal 
