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! 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL 
Jffotcllitneotts. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
MENTAL WORTH. 
Deep in tlie bosom of the earth, 
A crystal stream had murmured on 
Unseen; its beauty and its worth 
Were never known, ne’er thought upon, 
Till man, by labor, toil and might, 
Had brought that crystal stream to light 
Beneath the dreary, frowning brow, 
Of yonder rugged Alpine steep. 
Perchance, rich treasures slumber now. 
And ever undisturbed will sleep, 
Till man, by labor, toil and might, 
Shall bring its golden stores to light. 
And thus there is*within each breast, 
A latent source of priceless thought— 
A mine, where sparkling gems attest 
True worth, when it with care is wrought. 
Oh 1 labor then with all thy might, 
To bring thy hidden worth to light. 
Reed's Corners, N. Y., March, 1853. Mac. 
DESCRIPTION OF SAVANNAH. 
BY N. P. WILLIS. 
I must record, for invalids, that it was 
cool at Savannah—cool enough for an in¬ 
valid’s great coat—on the evening of May 
the second. I had hopod better tilings of 
it. An old gentleman, to whom I sat next 
at the tea table, said it was too cool for his 
daughter to leave her room. He was on 
his way with her to sotno more thermal ro- 
sort in Florida, of which 1 have forgotten 
the name. A pale lady, in blanket shawl, 
sat opposite me. A summery and healing 
association comes up usually with the men¬ 
tion of Savannah, the name boing descrip¬ 
tive of a perennial feature of Southern 
scenery; and doubtless the general average 
of its temperature deserves it. Its caprices 
should bo guarded against, however. It has 
long been the first refuge of the alarmed 
consumptive, and its history, truly written, 
would probably bo that of a “Bridge of 
Sighs,” by which many had returned to 
health, and as many had passed on to ro- 
modiless confirmation of disease. 
The bod-room candlo, ottered me by Pru¬ 
dence after tea, was outvoted by a brilliant 
moon out of doors.—(a “ tie-vote,” of course, 
on the republican principle, but the indi¬ 
vidual moon, to my thinking, being a ma¬ 
jority over the individual candle)—and I 
started to got a first view of Savannah whilo 
she was probably looking her best. It was 
indeed a glorious night. And a more singu¬ 
lar scone, than that city first seen by moon¬ 
light, is not likely to fall often in the travel¬ 
ers way. It is laid out curiously, as the 
guide book tells—its plan a chequer board, 
and every other square a park—but the 
streets, besides, being lined with trees, and 
avenues being planted through the centre 
of tiie principal ones, the leaves form a com¬ 
plete ceiling overhead, and no two stars are 
visible at a time, I should say, from any 
side-walk or thoroughfare in the entire 
municipality. 1 have sometimes felt in the 
woods, a desire to climb up some tall tree 
and see out —and the same feeling comes 
over one, after a whilo, in walking along 
miles of a closely-chequered carpet of light 
and shade, with a roof as closely-choquered 
and interminable above. It occurred to me 
whether wo might not leave out tbo sky a 
little too much, occasionally, in our improve¬ 
ments and beautify ings. 
Whether those overshadowing troos act 
on the city like tho outspread hand with 
which a mother says “ hush” to her children 
is open to supposition; but, that some pe¬ 
culiarly quietizing influence is exercised on 
tho habits and character of tho inhabitants, 
must be the stranger’s invariable impassion 
—though he might balance between this ex¬ 
planation of it, and tho town’s growing con¬ 
siderate, even in the shutting of doors, from 
its long use as a Mecca of invalids. So still 
a place, it seemed to me, I had never been 
in before. Constantinople, with no wheels 
in its streets,and Venice, with its silent-glid¬ 
ing gondolas, are noisy to Savannah. It is 
true that the deep sand of ovory thorough¬ 
fare makos carts and carriages unheard, and 
the profusion of leaves may so thicken the 
air as to deaden the common reverberations 
—-but there is a stillness more deep and 
universal than can thus obviously beacount- 
ed for. 1 was there three Sundays—(week¬ 
days behaving themselves like Sundays, that 
is to say)—and the hush of this first evening, 
which I was inclined to attribute partly to 
strict observance of tho Sabbath, was. I af¬ 
terwards found, the perpetual habit of the 
people. In my two hours’ ramblo. I passed 
through whole streets without meeting a 
soul. I scarce saw ten persons altogether, 
in the two hours. Thinking the homes 
should be livelier, for the life not stirring 
abroad, I looked for open windows and light¬ 
ed rooms—but a sign, oven of a single lamp 
in the front apartments of houses, was 
strangely rare. There was everywhere the 
shut up look of families absent. For long 
distances I saw nothing to disturb the idea 
forcibly suggested by tho excessive foliage 
and tho loneliness and stillness—that it was 
a silent city, dosortod but undecayed, which 
tho growth of a luxuriant wilderness had 
overtaken and buried. 
It is curious that it should be but “across 
a ferry,” as it wore, from Havana, the most 
owi-doors-y city in tho world, to Savannah, 
tho most i«-deors-y. It cannot bo altogeth¬ 
er a matter of principle, though Savannah 
is said to bo the most religious of towns, and 
Havana (where I heard the military hand 
play polkas as part of tho Sabbath service.) 
is perhaps as peculiarly irreligious. Nor 
can it be altogether a peculiarity of race— 
though tho Havanoso would seem to play 
tho sun-fish as naturally as tho Savanneso 
play the oyster. There is a fashion —which 
is part of the character of a town, differing 
in different places to a degree which is not 
easily explainable—in the amount of ap¬ 
pearing abroad, (“ gadding,” as the straight- 
laced call it.) which is respectable and prop¬ 
er. Tho subject might profitably bo lectur¬ 
ed upon. Inestimable as the fireside vir¬ 
tues are, domestic bliss requires a certain 
amount of airing, in “ best-regulated fami¬ 
lies,” and tho natural desire “ to see and bo 
seen,” has its use in the composition of hu¬ 
man society. 
With twenty thousand inhabitants, Savan¬ 
nah seems to have no poor people. In va¬ 
rious rambles, during tho few days of my 
stay thoro, I could find no quarter of the 
city whore there were any but comfortable 
dwellings—more than comfortable, indeed, 
for the poorest inhabitant has an avenue of 
shade-trees beforo his door, and must see 
an open square from his window. The lux¬ 
uries of park culture, which the noblemen 
of England spond fortunes in maintaining 
around their dwellings, are here at the 
humblest man’s threshold, free of cost. No 
child can grow up in Savannah without Na- 
turo for a nurso—boautiful trees for tho in¬ 
fant waking-dream to build its nest in—vel¬ 
vet grass, clover and buttercups, to make 
tho world seem like a play-ground, and the 
commonest highway a path of flowers.— 
Does any one think that character is not af¬ 
fected by such influences—that hope and 
imagination, confidence and cheerful habits 
of tempor, (to say nothing of health,) are 
not nurtured by such surroundings in child¬ 
hood? They make impressions too vivid 
and too universal not to havebeon intended 
by an all-wise Providence as a blessing to 
improve. Schools should bo whero there 
aro trees, streams, mountains—teachers for 
tho play-hours as well If I may strength¬ 
en my remark by recalling what made an 
impression on mysolf, I have forgotton ev¬ 
ery circumstance of a year or two that I 
was at school at Concord, New Hampshire 
when a boy, except the natural scenery of 
tho place. Tho faces of my teacher and my 
playmates have long ago faded from my 
memory, while I remember the rocks and 
eddies of tho Merrimac, the forms of the 
trees on the meadow opposite the town, and 
every bend of the river’s current. Wheth¬ 
er Governor Oglethorpe, in laying out tho 
city of Savannah, thought of more than the 
health and luxury in parks and shade-trees, 
it is too late, perhaps to inquire—but. to his 
beautifully rural plan, and energy of fore¬ 
cast in the completion of it. the inhabitants 
are indebted I believe, for a perpetual teach¬ 
ing of moral beauty, no less than for a sani¬ 
tary luxury.— Home Journal. 
CHRISTIANITY AND GOOD TASTE. 
A Christian may bo consistent with his 
duty and profession whilo he consults taste 
in all things, for in regard to most of the 
objects of life, tho Christian character is 
beautified and adorned by judicious atten¬ 
tion to propriety and good taste. There are 
a multitude of cases in which ho may with¬ 
out a penny’s additional expense, or a step 
out ot his way, add to his own enjoyment in 
life, and to that of others also. 
There aro many cases also in which con¬ 
formity to a correct taste becomes an abso¬ 
lute Christian duty. Among these, are pro¬ 
priety ofapparel in tho minister, comfort 
of the person, courtesy of expression, ap¬ 
propriateness of sacroci architecture, clean¬ 
liness, and such a union of decency and 
comfort as a small exertion of contrivance 
can bring about with limited resources.— 
Christian principle requir s the exercise of 
good taste when all that is needed for it is 
tho putting forth of a little care on our part 
to secure fitness. 
Whero tho gospel of God has had most 
influence—there has been the purest and 
simplest display of good taste. Compare 
the gaudy dress and adornments of heathen 
with the modest propriety of Christian peo 
pie. Tho Bible is itself a true standard of 
the tasto.— Ohio Observer. 
NEATNESS IN SPEECH. 
The nose and the roof of the mouth may 
be regarded as tho sound board of the voice. 
The teeth form a bridge or barrier, upon 
which tho lips and tongue are constantly 
playing; and their beauty and regularity 
contribute much to the neatness of speech. 
The action of the tongue is susceptible o: 
high cultivation, and upon its activity de¬ 
pends much of that silvery tone of voice 
which delight us. With many it lies aslug- 
gish lump in tho mouth, as when pronounc¬ 
ing the letter L. it so blocks up tho passage 
that tho voice escapes with difficulty. The 
lips are employed in tho softer tones, and 
aro chargeable with tho samo lassitude of 
expression. Tho chin has an important of¬ 
fice to perform, which is to operate upon 
tho hinge which opens and shuts the mouth, 
for upon its activity we either disclose a 
polite or vulgar pronunciation. Every one 
must have noticed in lazy speakers, how the 
words are drawled out of the mouth, asnae- 
o for no. Others begin to talk before their 
mouths are open, affixing tho mouth-closing 
M to most of their words, as M yes for yes. 
— Gardiner’s Music of JYature. 
True as a Dictionary —Col. Benton says: 
*• Above a century ago.” there was a class of 
gentry, roving the seas, and helping them¬ 
selves to whatever they wanted, and were 
ablo to take from nations or individuals, 
whom tho English called Freebooters, and 
tho French called Filibusters, and the Span¬ 
iards called Flibusteros and which we (tho 
Americans) call Flibvsters ; and whoso nat¬ 
ural and international creed was comprised 
in the answer to two brief questions. First, 
whether any man or nation, has any thing 
that we want ? and secondly, are we able to 
take it ? and these two questions being af¬ 
firmatively answered; “ take it F was the 
word ! 
The idle should not bo classed among the 
living; they aro a sort of dead men who 
can’t be buried. 
THE CHOICE OF ONE’S BUISINESS. 
Some people are cursed with congenital 
laziness. It cannot be called inbred, for it 
seems to be independent of all training, and 
to remain in spite of the stoutest efforts of 
their well-wishers to rid them of the incu¬ 
bus. Others are lazy rather from the force 
of their connections, and for lack of a mo¬ 
tive to action. But fortunately for us, and, 
perhaps it is in vanity that vve always add, 
for tho world, if for us, most of our race 
are by nature disposed to be industrious, 
and prefer to make some stir in the world 
as they sail through it. There are few so 
far given over to indolence that there is not 
some employment which they like—some 
business which they would enjoy. 
If parents would study the natural prefer¬ 
ences of thoir children,—would seek ear¬ 
nestly to discover their proclivity, there 
would bo saved to the world an abundance 
of unnecessary mibery, and to humanity 
many of her pangs. The parent who is at 
all shrewd cannot hut find out what his off¬ 
spring most likes : the choice of his sports, 
the amusements he prefers, the topics which 
most fix his attention, and absorbs his 
thoughts, reappearing in his subsequent 
meditations and inquiries, point with uner¬ 
ring accuracy to the needed information.— 
In lack of any partialities in earlier life, how 
easy it is to plant them there, and to water 
them, and make them grow till they seem 
part of tho mind’s original construction, is 
another subject full of profit in the contem¬ 
plation, but impertinent to our purpose.— 
We speak of that period in the child’s life, 
when the tasto has become apparent, and 
be has begun to think for himself somo- 
what, when incorrect notions and propen¬ 
sities that are disagreeable will down at tho 
bidding of the domestic teacher; of tho time 
when the child must go out from the family 
circle to learn a trade, to fit himself for a 
profession, to earn a living somehow. 
Now the troublo is apt to lio here.— 
There has been no work of preparation go¬ 
ing on. Tho choice of a profession has 
been left till the very eve of entering upon 
it. Some cause, of the most temporary and 
fleeting character, dictates the dicision, and 
the youth is chained for life to an employ¬ 
ment which ho abhors, or only loves “on 
compulsion.” A well-trained man soon 
learns to be content with an imposition 
which he cannot well shake off. Tho axe 
being dull he puts to the more strength.— 
He heats the iron by hammering it. The 
labor being before him he sticks by it until 
habit has made it agreeable. But all are 
not thus gifted. More, finding their work 
disagreeable, do as little at it as the stress 
of circumstances will permit, and seek for 
other engagements to consume the leisure 
hours. Their best efforts are diverted from 
the proper channel. Their force is direct¬ 
ed unavailingly upon two or more objects, 
which if expended on one, would work re¬ 
sults that now seem miraculous. 
Our country is full of this uneconomized, 
unsaved labor. There are men in shops 
and work-yards who thrust the plane lazily 
and strike with the axe forcelessly, because 
they ought to be on farms. And there aro 
dull, melancholy men in pulpits and offices, 
and behind counters, who preach sleepily, 
miserably perforin their official duties, and 
make small profits on their goods, who 
would work right lustily in ship yards and 
enjoy a full flow of spirits if their muscles 
could keep time to the clatter of hammers 
and the strokes of workmen ten hours in 
the day. Wo pity tho man who goes into 
the pulpit from •* a sense of duty” simply. 
Tho Apostle, who felt that a wo was on him 
if he was not a preacher, also heartily loved 
his business. We doubt if many are really 
••called ” to any work which they loathe.— 
Wo pity tho doctor, who i6 such simply, be 
cause his crabbed old undo offers to take him 
into his office without charging tuition.— 
Very fortunate it is that tho departments 
of labor open to us aro so various that wo 
can scarcely fail to bo suited with them.— 
And the parent who in old age looks upon 
a son toiling unwillingly at his daily task, 
may verv properly inquire how far his fail¬ 
ure to discover and direct the tastes of his 
offspring is chargeable for the unfortunate 
issue. Set the generation that is now grow¬ 
ing, on tho track, and we shall find their 
power immensely magnified without any in¬ 
crease of cost. When one’s profession lies 
in the line of his tastes, he does double ser¬ 
vice unawares. The grades are all easy.— 
The track is in order. Loads that look im¬ 
movable, move onward as if they were mere 
makeweights. A word to the wise is suffi¬ 
cient. We have written almost a chapter of 
them—may they provoke the wisdom of 
some who have not furnished the tokens in 
extravagant abundance heretofore.—JV. Y. 
Times. 
NOW, IN THE COUNTRY. 
Now. in the country, are the farmers, 
boys and men, getting ready for spring work. 
Now aro the sap-buckets taken from the 
garret and got ready for the delicious juice 
of the sweet sugar maple; now is the smell 
of red cedar spouts through which the nec- * 
tar is to distil into the bucket, the stone- 
trough, and the potash kettle, when boiling, 
foaming, rising, and sinking, tho compound 
stands at last confessed. Maple Sugar in tho 
Grain. Now the thin blue spiral smoko- 
column rises over the reddening woods, and 
many a night gathering is there before the 
blazing sugar-fires, in comfortable wigwams 
with odorous clean straw upon the ground 
floors. Now red-hot coals are sponked up¬ 
on green maple logs, and the naked forest 
resounds with cannon like reports, and the 
ringing laughter of honest, careless hearts. . 
Now the willow basket of apples stands in >• 
the corner of the great kitchen fire place, 
and a pitcher of sweet cider keeps it com- \ 
pany ;a»d the boys are cracking and munch¬ 
ing the rich brown butternuts, by way of 
variety. Now we will close this reminis¬ 
cence of country life. Now we will stop. 
AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
105 
THE HEART’S MELODIES. 
Listen! listen I full is ever 
This wide world with music true, 
Naught can still it, mar it, never—• 
Naught that hate or wrong can do. 
Gentle, humble, all who tremble 
While fierce passions round them jar, 
Shall hear whispers that resemble, 
Angel voices from afar. 
None so weary, none so lonely, 
But some heart responsive gives 
Beat for beat; and Love needs only 
Touch the chords, and music lives. 
Though the world with darkness blendeth, 
Though the wood be hushed and drear. 
Though the lone flower, trembling, bendeth, 
As the cold wind moanetli near: 
Morn shall come; again from blindness 
All to life and glory start; 
So, like light, one touch of kindness 
Wakes the music of the Heart. 
[ Chambers' Journal. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
PURITY OF LANGUAGE. 
BY A FARMERS WIFE. 
Perhaps thoro is no subject that appears 
of so little consequence at the first glance, 
that in reality forms so important a part in 
the establishment of character among stran¬ 
gers, as tho language employed, and tho 
manner in which the ideas are expressed.— 
Let an individual appear in any community, 
whatever his character may be where he is 
known, if he can and does converse well, a 
favorable impression is made and he finds 
it comparatively easy to acquire a standing, 
whatever purpose he may have to gain.— 
On the contrary if a man is careless and 
awkward in his choice and use of language, 
though ho may be very wise, people will not 
listen to him with any satisfaction, and he 
thus loses the benefit of favorable first im¬ 
pressions. However sensible a person may 
be, it is certain his conversation loses much 
of its effect by being expressed in ill-chosen 
terms. 
No argument is needed to convince any 
one of the truth of these remarks, who has 
ever observed the respectful deference 
that is always accorded to good talkers.— 
By good talkers, I mean those who can 
clothe even a common-place subject in such 
a garb as will render it pleasing. One can 
determine by hearing a very few sentences, 
whether the speaker is in the habit of ut¬ 
tering his thoughts to refined listeners.— 
All have not opportunities, for acquiring an 
easy and graceful style of conversation, but 
there is no possiblo excuse for interlarding 
whatever they have to eommunicato with 
tho slang phrases, and exclamations that 
creep into our language with such facility, 
and are sometimes so ludicrously originated. 
No want of grammatical accuracy is half so 
annoying to a cultivated hearer as these 
vulgarities of speech. If such language is 
scarcely tolerable in man, what shall I sa\ 
of females who indulge in its use. especially 
in tho hearing of children? How careful 
should mothers be that their children maj 
never hear them use a cant phrase or give 
utterance to an indelicate allusion. Children 
are not only imitative beings, but they are ex- 
judges of character. These vrho have never 
cellent heard impure language from their pa 
rents will be instinctively shocked when they 
hear it from others, and none are quicker in 
detecting it. A little girl four or five years 
old was visiting in a very respectable fami¬ 
ly. and heard a young lady use the phrase 
‘plaguy bad;” it instantly caught her ear. 
Plaguy bad” said she “ what does that 
mean?” The young lady replied “ plaguy was 
not a proper word; I only meant the thing 
was very bad.” “Then why do you not say 
very bad?” persisted the child; “ I believe 
plaguy is a vulgar word, 1 know it iB not in 
mother’s dictionary.” The young lady was 
never betrayed into the use of that word 
again, and I have heard her say the criti- 
steam of some polluted sink of vice and 
misery ; but when this corrupt vico is fas¬ 
tened on tho tongue of him who is looked 
up to as an exanple, not only by his children, 
but by tho community, I am at a loss for 
language strong enough for its denuncia¬ 
tion. I onco knew a man on whom this 
habit was so firmly fixed, that he would sit 
down to the table with his family and ask 
God to bless them, and the food prepared 
for their use, and before using he would take 
that holy name in vain! 
Revolting as is the idea, it is nevertheless 
true, if we may believe the newspaper re¬ 
porters, that grave men, chosen to sit in the 
halls of legislation and make laws for tho 
government of their country, too frequent- 
ly indulgo in this debasing and offensive 
practice, without danger of even a call to 
order from the presiding officer. We expect 
at least that men occupying such a position 
should be gentlemen, and that appellation 
is always accorded to them, but if one gives 
but a glance at tho daily proceedings in our 
National and Stato Assemblies, he will see 
how unjustly it is in many cases bestowed. 
Let parents, mothers particularly, assidu- 
ously guard thoir children from the con¬ 
taminating effects of ribald and profane 
language; guard them with caro from the 
effect of low cant which is often gilded with 
witticism that makes it attractive, but none 
the less reprehensiblo. Much of the low 
wit that abounds in the newspapers of the 
clay, is unfit to bo read by children, and 
even editors who intend to excludo every 
thing of tho sort from their columns are 
sometimes tempted to admit an anecdote of 
this character, for the “point of the joke.” 
I believe tho vice of profane swearing is 
so rare among females who lay any claim to 
respectability, that I scarcely need allude to 
it. But it is a fact that many well educated, 
intelligent females, are far too careless of 
their language in their every day intercourse. 
I presume there is scarcely a young man to 
he found who would utter an improper or 
profane word in the presence of that moth¬ 
er or sister from whoso lips he had never 
heard aught but purity of expression—pure 
words swelling up from pure minds. How < 
careful should wo bo in the choice of all our j 
expressions; and if tho habit is early fixed, < 
and grows with the growth, the appropri- j 
ato language will flow as naturally as water 1 
from the fountain. 
I consider good conversational powors, 
among tho highest accomplishments; with 
these, plainness of features is forgotten, and 
we are involuntarily attracted towards the 
individual who exercises them. 
Next to early habit, frequent intercourse 
with strangers is an important aid to ac¬ 
quiring ease and facility in conversation.— 
If females would take hold of this matter in 
earnest, I think a reform in tho character 
of general conversation might bo effected, 
and many of tho strong expletives now em¬ 
ployed would soon cease to offend the re¬ 
fined ear; and instead of the vapid trash 
that passes for conversation at a social 
gathering, these occasions might be made to 
contribute to our improvement and a ra¬ 
tional enjoyment, becoming intelligent and 
tesponsible beings. 
Willow-dell Farm, March 1., 1853. 
STRANGE CUSTOM. 
A most extraordinary custom prevails 
among the Vizroes. a powerful tribe occupy¬ 
ing an extensive district in Caubal. among 
tho mountains between Persia and India.— 
It is, in fact,a female perogative that has no 
parallel among any other people upon the 
earth, and that reverses what we are in the 
habit of considering the natural order of 
things — tho women choose their husbands, 
and not tho husbands their wives. If a wo¬ 
man be pleased with a man, she sends tho 
drummer of the camp to pin a handkerchief 
to his cap, with a pin which she has used to 
lasten her hair. The drummer watches his 
opportunity, and does th s in public, naming 
tlie woman, and the man is obliged to marry 
her, if lie can pay her price to her father. 
oism of that child was worth more to her 
than half a dozen such from older persons. 
She is now a mother and feels the impor¬ 
tance of keeping a double watch over her 
tongue. 
Wo can generally judgo in a measure by 
the speech of a child what kind of people 
his parents are. I have known children to 
be so well guarded from hearing improper 
language, that they did not know the dif¬ 
ference between vulgarity and profanity, 
and only found it out when old enough to 
learn it among the playmates at school. 
What a pity that aught but good, should be 
learned when so many of tho impressions 
that govern the whole life, are received into 
the mind! But the evil exists, and tho most 
that can be done in the present state of af¬ 
fairs is for every individual parent to use 
his best endeavors to counteract the effect. 
We deprecate these evils, but what shall 
I say of the abominable practice of profane 
swearing? It is no more than we may ex¬ 
pect, to hear oaths from the degraded being 
i who reels along tho street reeking with the 
A Wife. —When a man of sense comes to 
marry, it is a companion whom ho wants, 
and not an artist. It is not merely a crea- 
turo who can paint, and play, and sing, and 
dance. It is a being who can comfort and 
Counsel him ; one who can reason and reflect, 
and feci and judge, and discourse and dis¬ 
criminate ; one who can assist him in his af¬ 
fairs, lighten his sorrows, purify his joys, 
strengthen his principles, and educate his 
children. Such is tlie woman who is fit for 
a mother and tho mistress of a family. A 
woman of the former description may occa¬ 
sionally figure in a drawing-room, and ex¬ 
cite the admiration of the company, but ig 
entirely unfit for a helpmate to a man, and 
to train up a child in the way ho should go. 
Small acts of kindness are very pleasant, 
and how desirable do they make life. Ev¬ 
ery dark object is made light by them, and 
every tear of sorrow is brushed away.— 
When tho heart is sad, and despondency 
sits at the entrance of the soul, a trilling 
kindness drives despair away, and makes 
the path cheerful and pleasant. 
A quiet mind, like other blessings, is more 
easily lost than - gained. 
