m 
! 80 
> 
I (Lhuatiral. 
\ Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE TWO SCHOOL BOYS; 
) OR, IDLENESS AND INDUSTRY CONTRASTED, 
f BY L. D. WHITING. 
> “Well, George, are you going to school 
| to-day,” asked Henry Barnard of George 
> Brown, on the morning of the commence- 
, ment of a new term of school. 
> “ No,” replied George, “ I am not going 
) till next week. I want to wait till they are 
J regulated before I go. One can’t learn much 
the first week. Henry aro you going to at¬ 
tend Bill Idleman’s party next Wednesday?’’ 
“No, I would not stay from school for 
anybody’s party. I wish to commence 
school at the beginning, so as to get tvcll 
regulated. My chores and my lessons are 
enough to take my whole attention, and I 
think they aro of more consequence than 
mere pleasure. Besides, I think this is one 
of Bill Idleman’s tricks to draw away the 
boys from school, and for one, I don’t mean 
to be caught in his trap. Como, George, 
let us give up vanities, when they interfere 
with education.” 
“ Oh fie. Henry,—what is one day or one 
week’s schooling ? I sometimes go to school 
a whole term without learning anything, 
and I reckon I shan’t miss this week much, 
if I do stay out. Besides, Tom Loafer says 
that a knowledge of the world, is worth 
more than a knowledge of books; and that 
ho learned more at one ball, than ho ever 
learned at school in his life. Manners, 
Henry, are of more consequence than ‘ Jog- 
ra fy’ ” 
“ I think, George, we shall learn full as 
good manners at school, as wo should by as¬ 
sociating with either Bill Idleman or Tom 
Loafer. They both swear, smoke cigars, 
drink whiskey, use vulgar language, chew 
tobacco, and fight; and these aro not the 
kind of manners I want to learn.” 
“Well, Henry, you may go to school, and 
I will go to the party. I’ll go to school 
when I’ve nothing else to do. It’s a stupid 
place, anyhow.” 
This brief conversation between theso two 
village boys, is quite an index to their pres¬ 
ent character, and their future destiny.— 
Henry Barnard was the son of a laboring ! 
man, possessed of but littlo of this world’s j 
goods, but that little was freely expended in 
tho proper education of his family. Long 
winter evenings were devoted to home in¬ 
struction. Teachers, schools and education 
were always spoken of in terms of rospect. 
Their minds were thus prepared for receiv¬ 
ing instruction at school. Tho teacher’s 
admonitions and warnings were duly heed¬ 
ed ; his advico and directions wore faith¬ 
fully followed. Under the genial and har¬ 
monious influence of school and home, Hen¬ 
ry Barnard gradually developed some of the 
noblest qualities of the human mind. 
lie was habitually respectful to his teach¬ 
ers and superiors, courteous to his compan¬ 
ions, and kind to those in distress. Ho nev¬ 
er disgraced himself by telling a falsehood, 
or using profane or vulgar words. By steady 
application, he stood among tho foremost 
in his classes, and his early and constant 
taste for reading, had stored his mind with 
a great variety of useful information. Ho 
was not wholly indifferent to the sports of 
youth, but he always endeavored to manage 
so as not to let them interfere with the im- 
provement of his mind. Saturdays and 
other vacation days were chosen to do his 
necessary labors, that ho might attend 
school uninterrupted. By this systematic 
and orderly arrangement of his time, he not 
only enjoyed all the benefits of school, but 
also found abundant time for recreation 
and amusoment. 
George Brown was tho youngest son of a 
hard-working mechanic. His older broth¬ 
ers were brought up in habits of industry 
and economy, but somehow George always 
wore tho best clothes, and did tho least 
work. Sometimes when George had near¬ 
ly run out of pocket change, his father 
would hire him to do some small jobs ; but 
even then, the sight of a crowd of men or 
boys in the street, would be such a tempta¬ 
tion, that George would throw aside his 
work, and be among them in half a twink¬ 
ling. 
But George should not be called lazy. He 
would walk miles to a “ chevarie,” or curry 
and clean any gentleman’s horse for the 
sake of riding it to drink. George was some¬ 
what peculiar in the manifestation of his so¬ 
cial qualities. His associates were eithor ig¬ 
norant and low-minded men, or boys some¬ 
what younger than himself. What slan¬ 
ders, tricks and vulgarities, ho could pick 
up among the former, were always faithful¬ 
ly taught to the boys. 
When there was no crowd or excitement 
around, he would generally be found listless¬ 
ly sunning himself on tho boxes around the 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
store doors, or lounging on the counters.— 
If there was no raffle, horse-race or turkey 
shoot to attend, he would sometimes ven¬ 
ture to a public lecture,—provided it was 
not so crowded but that he could slink away 
into some distant corner, where he could 
have a seat wholly to himself to lounge 
upon, and plenty of room to whittle, and so 
far from the orderly portion of the congre¬ 
gation, that ho could whisper and laugh un¬ 
observed. 
Mr. Brown very much desired his son 
George to go to school, but ho did not like 
to drive him off. He said, “ constraint in¬ 
jures the mind.” So he waited with all pa¬ 
tience, term after term, indulging the hope 
that the spirit of improvement would soon 
move George to go to school of his own ac¬ 
cord. At one time, by granting him some 
especial indulgences, and buying him a new 
suit of clothes and a whole sett of new 
books, he succeeded in starting him to 
school, and it l’eally seemed for a few days 
that George was going to learn. The teach¬ 
er paid him extra attention, hoping to per¬ 
manently change his taste, and implant a 
desire for knowledge. 
But it was all lost labor. Tho discipline 
of school was so different from that free and 
easy life in the street,—sitting or standing 
so much harder than lounging—and the 
taste and sentiments of tho teacher so dif¬ 
ferent from what ho had boen in the habit of 
hearing, that our hero really felt out of his 
element. Tho atmosphere of books op¬ 
pressed him, and without waiting to get ac¬ 
climated to this, ho sought relief among his 
former associates. They greeted him with 
a hearty welcome, and listened with appro¬ 
bation to his complaints against the teacher. 
Ho accused the teacher of partiality, be¬ 
cause Henry Barnard and some others 
learned faster than himself. After a few 
woeks attendance off and on, he concluded 
not to go any more till after the holidays; 
and when those festive days had passed, he 
gave up coming till the next term, as ho 
said, “ ho could not learn much during tho 
piece of the term that was left.” 
About this time, one of the village physi¬ 
cians, who by his skill had acquired an ex¬ 
tensive practice, was looking about him for 
a worthy lad to enter his office and study 
his profession. Henry Barnard was the 
chosen one. His manners, habits, princi¬ 
ples, industry and attainments, recommend¬ 
ed him for the station;—and finally so en¬ 
deared him to his worthy patron, that ho 
gave him superior advantages, and when he 
had completed his studies, took him as a 
partner in his practice. The good habits 
and correct principles implanted in youth, 
in manhood yielded their appropriate and 
abundant fruits. Wo take our leave of Hen¬ 
ry Barnard, a distinguished member of the 
medical profession, an honored citizen, en¬ 
deared to all by his good qualities and faith¬ 
ful services. 
A fow more words will trace the history 
of Gcorgo Brown, Henry’s early compan¬ 
ion, up to tho same period. We left him 
dissatisfied with school. His teachers nev¬ 
er seemed to learn him anything. Younger 
girls and boys would get ahead of him, and 
ho would then rail at the teacher’s partiali¬ 
ty. He finally became a sworn enemy to 
books, teachers and schools. He avoided 
all company, where useful information was 
sought or dispensed; and continued to as¬ 
sociate with men low in the scale of intelli¬ 
gence and morals, or with boys so much 
younger than himself that ho could easily 
assume a leadership. 
But his favorite companions were a horse 
and a gun. True, he was never able to be¬ 
come absolute owner of a horse, but then 
he was abundantly compensated for this 
lack, by the kindness of others. Lawyer 
Brooks and Dr. Barnard often allowed him 
to ride their horses, fully equipped, through 
the streets, in consideration of his services 
as groom. But somehow he became the 
owner of a gun. Without a gun, George’s 
chief talents would have remained dormant. 
Not that he was a very sure shot, but then, 
ho was always on hand and always ready to 
shoot. He was one of the main pillars of 
all the “turkey shoots,” far and near. He 
never was backward about shooting because 
the chances were against him. What were 
a few dimes in his pocket ? HeTiever found 
any uso for money, only to pay for his 
chance to shoot, and to buy his tobacco; 
and he could at any time replenish his 
purse to tho amount of fifty cents or a dol¬ 
lar, by doing small jobs of work for his fath¬ 
er. At turkey shoots, he always perse¬ 
vered till ho got a turkey, but generally paid 
enough for his chances to have purchased 
two. As soon as this was accomplished, he 
made tracks straight for home, and made a 
free gift of his game to his mother, as ho 
said, “ his father was getting old, and it was 
no more than right he should support tho 
family!” 
George still continued to associate with 
boys. As one sett grew up to years of un¬ 
derstanding, ho would gradually withdraw 
EUGENIE, EMPRE233 OF FRANCE. 
As much is said, written and published 
concerning the recently-installed Empress 
Eugenie —Mrs. Napoleon III.—wo give her 
portrait and genealogy. The- above is a 
copy of the only portrait wo have seen— 
that given in the “London Illustrated 
News.” If it is correct, the original is not 
over-beautiful, according to our standard of 
female beauty—but that is a matter of taste, 
about which people differ materially. 
Tiie Duchess of Montijo’s grandfather, 
(great-grandfather of tho Empress.) Mr. 
Kirkpatrick, of Conheath, Dumfrieshire. 
Scotland, was a gentleman of large landed 
property. Her father, Mr. Wm. Kirkpat¬ 
rick, was British Consul at Malaga, for 
many years, and there married the only 
daughter of Baron Grevenee. Ho had 
three daughters; and tho eldest, Maria, 
married Count Montijo, father of the Em¬ 
press, who belonged to one of tho most 
ancient of the noble houses of Spain. He 
was a grandee of the first class, and fought 
bravely under the standard of France, in 
tho Peninsular wai\ The Count died in 
1839, when Md’ilo. Eugenie was twelve years 
of age. The true sangre azul of the great 
I)e Guzman, who defended Tarifa, in 1282, 
flows in her veins. The first Count de Teba 
was created about 1492, by Ferdinand and 
Isabella, for his gallant conduct before 
Granada. 
Md’lle. Montijo was born in Grenada, in 
the year 1827. She possesses considerable 
personal attractions, but more in tho style 
of English than Spanish beauty. Her com¬ 
plexion is extremely fair—her features are 
regular, and yet full'of expression, and her 
manners winning in the extreme. Her ed¬ 
ucation is superior to that of Spanish ladies 
in general, and she is said to bo what the 
French call spirituelle. 
from their company, and choose a younger. 
Thus several generations of the village boys 
had enjoyed tho benefit of his instruction. 
By common consent, George still continued 
to live with his father, who was as industri¬ 
ous and indulgent as ever. Although Georgo 
has voted tho regular ticket at the annual 
elections for more than twenty times, yet 
neither he nor his father appear to be con¬ 
scious that ho has yet attained his twenty 
first year. 
HIGHWAY OF TIIE OCEAN. 
An article in Chambers Journal, entitled 
“Steam around the Cape,” contains the fol¬ 
lowing explanatory remarks: 
Persons who do not pay special attention 
to nautical matters, are likely enough to 
suppose, that considering tho large number 
of vessels at sea, the surface of tho great 
ocean must be dotted ovor, almost in every 
part, with the sails of tho countless fleet.— 
This, however, is not tho case ; tho ocean, 
like the land, has its frequented highways 
and its wide regions of loneliness. If an ; 
observer, furnished with a forty-Herschell- 
telescope power of vision, could be elevated 
to a height great enough to give him a view 
of the w’holo Atlantic, lie would bo struck 
by beholding hundreds of vessels following 
one another upon certain lines along a very 
irregular course, while over a large portion 
of the surface not a sail would be visible.— | 
Thus he would see tho ships which leave 
this country for tho Cape or India, pursue 
at the first a south-westerly courso until 
they reached the neighborhood of Maderia, 
then keep more directly to the south, at a 
safe distance from the African coast, until 
they crossed the lino; then stretch away 
again to the southwest, in tho direction of 
South America, till they gain tho zono of 
westerly winds; and finally, making a rath¬ 
er sharp turn into these winds, go bowling 
along before them to the eastward till they 
arrive at the Capo, or else, if so directed, 
pass to tho southward of it. On the return 
voyage a similar circuitous route is pursued, 
although the courses aro in some extent re¬ 
versed, tho widest circuit, or deviation from 
the direct line being made in tho northern, 
instead of tho southern hemisphere. In 
the extensive spaces on eithor side of theso 
froquented routes, few vessels will bo seen. 
Here and there an African trader might oc¬ 
casionally bo perceived, dodging from port 
to port; or a slaver scudding swiftly across 
tho ocean,—perhaps with a royal cruiser 
following steadily upon her track, like a 
fiorco blood-hound in pursuit. 
THE STRENGTH OF INSECTS. 
In a volume published by Van Voorst, on 
the Natural History of Animals, several il¬ 
lustrations are given of the super-herculean 
strength with which the commonest insects 
are endowed. 
The common flea, as every one knows, 
will, without much apparent effort, jump 
two hundred times its own length, and sev¬ 
eral grasshoppers and locusts aro said to be 
ablo to perform leaps quite as wonderful.— 
In the case of the insect they scarcely ex¬ 
cite our notice ; but if a man were coolly to 
take a standing leap of three hundred and 
eighty odd yards, which would be an equiv¬ 
alent exertion of muscular power, perhaps 
our admirers of athletic sports might be 
rather startled at such a performance. 
Again, for a man to run ten miles within 
the hour would be admitted to bo a tolera¬ 
bly good display of pedestrianism ; but what 
are we to say to the little fly observed by 
Mr. DeTKTo, “so minute as almost to be in¬ 
visible,” which ran nearly six inches in a 
second, and in that space was calculated to 
have made one thousand and eighty steps? 
This, according to the calculation of Kirby 
and Spence, is as if a man whoso steps 
measured only two feet, should run at the 
incredible rate of twenty miles in a miunte. 
Equally surprising are the instances of in¬ 
sect strength given by Mr. Newport. 
Tho great stag beetle, which tears off’ the 
bark from the roots and branches of trees, 
has been known to gnaw a hole, an inch in 
diameter, through tiie side of an iron can- 
nistor in which it was confined, and on which 
tho marks of its jaws were distinctly visible. 
The common beetle can, without injury, 
support and even raiso great weights, and 
make its way beneath almost any amount 
of pressure. In order to put the strength 
of this insect-Atlas to tho test, experiments 
have been made which prove that it is able 
to sustain and escape from beneath a load of 
from twenty to thirty ounces, a prodigious 
burden when it is remembered that the in¬ 
sect itself does not weigh as many grains ; 
in fact, once more taking man as a standard 
of comparison, it is as though a person ol 
ordinary size should raise and get from un¬ 
der a weight of botween forty and fifty tons. 
To know a man, observe how he wins his 
object rather than how ho loses it; for when 
we fail, our pride supports; when we succeed, 
it betrays us. 
SONNET.-A FEAYER FOR PEACE. 
Tnou who of old upon the waves up-piled 
Wert wildly with thy trembling followers tossed, 
And unto mortal eyes when all seemed lost, 
A word didst speak and they were calm and mild— 
Oh! look in pity on thy erring child! 
Speak thou once more, and let thy soothing voice 
Give peace and rest, and bid his soul rejoice— 
Calming the tumult of the tempest wild. 
His little bark so frail, in mercy guide 
Through every stornvo’er Life’s tempestuous sea, 
Be thou his all, and may no earthly strife 
His spirit ever from the God divine. 
That when ’tis over he at last may be 
Moored in the heaven of eternal life.— b. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
NOT LOST. 
Tired of viewing the many highly wrought 
productions of art and uncommon develop¬ 
ments of nature, I turned my back upon 
one of our annual State Fairs to seek my 
lodgings. My pathway led me through a 
city in tho immediate neighborhood of that 
where the festival was held, of which I had 
heard very little, but which I found even 
more interesting to visit than that I had 
just left, where was congregated such a 
mass of living, moving humanity. ’Twas 
the city of tho dead ! Tho burial ground, 
where all, sooner or later, aro destined to 
rest. As I entered its shaded walks a feel¬ 
ing camo over me, not of superstitious fear 
but of reverence, of respect for that God 
who sustains mo and who has given and 
taken tho lives of so many human beings.— 
To me it seemed impossible that any other 
feeling could hero find place in the heart, 
save that of reverential and adoring love 
for our Father in Heaven. 
I wandered amid this forest of monu¬ 
ments to the departed, somo of which, in 
proud granduor seemed to mark tho spot 
where slept the once wealthy or great, un¬ 
til I stood before a plain marble slab, on tho 
top of which was represented a half-rolled 
manuscript on which was engraved tho sim¬ 
ple words, “Not Lost.” Like an electric 
shock to my very soul, was tho reading of 
theso words. It seemed as if I wero stand¬ 
ing on consecrated ground, almost within 
the gates of paradiso. The shrubbery about 
me was beautiful, not a cloud obscured tho 
sky, not a sound broke the stillnoss, and for 
the moment I could almost have imagined 
that I had suddenly exchanged this earth 
for a homo among tho immortals. Not 
Last ! what would not I give, for tho blest 
assurance those little words contain. And 
yet how easily obtained. It is bat to follow 
and obey tho precious Saviour. How small 
the price, how great tho boon ! w. ii. G. 
Hornby, Steuben Co., N. Y., 1853. 
THE WISDOM OF THE IGNORANT. 
Some short time ago I spent a very pleas¬ 
ant evening in tho study of a brother in the 
ministry. Some facts we had both been 
reading in tho Watchman and Reflector, led 
us into a conversation on tho striking re¬ 
marks of a religious kind, which are often 
made by tho most ignorant persons who 
“ como to the knowledge of tho truth.” He 
told me that a few years since he traveled 
in the south, and on one evening preached 
to a congregation where ho was a perfect 
stranger. When he came out of tho pulpit, 
among others who seemed greatly interested 
in the sermon, was an old man, a slave, who 
was not a little eulogistic relative to tho 
new minister and his sermon ; my friend 
checked him somewhat by saying, that he 
should bless the great Master for tho mes¬ 
sage, rather than tho messenger, for that, 
after all, unassisted by the Holy Spirit, ho 
was a poor creature. “ Ah, massa,” said tho 
poor old slave; “ ah, massa, never mind 
about being poor, so long as you have got 
such a rich father.” Noble sentiment! 
What doctor of divinity could have uttered 
a better ? 
Another fact ho heard about this old man. 
It seems that he was much respected whore 
ho lived, and was always permitted to talk 
about his religion to whom he pleased.— 
Ilis one subject was the love of Jesus Christ. 
Ono day some person said to him, “ Well, 
you are always talking about Jesus Christ. 
Which would you rather do, go to heaven 
and never see Christ, or go to hell to bo 
with him forever.” The old man for a mo¬ 
ment seemed astonished at the impiety of 
the inquirer, but thinking a little, ho replied, 
“Ah, massa, there can bo no hell where Jesus 
Christ is.’’— Watchman and Rejlector. 
The Dream of Life. —Dow few of us at 
tho close of life car. say, “ I have filled and 
occupied the position to which I looked for¬ 
ward when a boy !” In the onward pro¬ 
gress of life, how often, in somo stray mo¬ 
ment of thought and reflection, do wo not 
find ourselves inquiring, “ Is this as I hoped 
—have I enacted my dream?” And the 
answer is. invariably—no! We look for¬ 
ward in childood—and only look forward— 
without reflection. We build up gorgeous 
palaces, w'e sketch a career of life all gold 
and sunshine—what are they, ami where aro 
they, when years sober us? 
The most valuable .part of every man’s 
education is that which ho receives from 
himself; especially when tho active energy 
of his character makes ample amends for 
tho want of a inoro finished courso of study. 
< 
( 
< 
< 
< 
< 
< 
< 
< 
< 
