BMSMBSi 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
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(fchmitiflital. 
DECISION OF CHARACTER. 
BY J. CLEMENT. 
Messrs. Ticknor & Co., of Boston, have 
recently published the tenth volume of the 
writings of Thomas de Quincey, the title 
being “ Essays on the Poets, and other Wri¬ 
ters.” All the articles on the poets are 
good ; and the three on “ other writers.”— 
Godwin, IIazlitt and Foster —are the same, 
with the exception of some sentiments with 
reference to tho author of “ Decision of 
Character.” De Quincey objects to that 
essay on the ground that it “ places a very 
exaggerated valuation upon our quality of 
human temperament.” Ho adds that “ob¬ 
stinacy in a gift more extensively sown 
than Foster was willing to admit.” The 
critic hero seoms to make obstinacy a syn¬ 
onym of decision, a license hardly justifiable 
on tho part of “ Mr. Quincey, Senior,” as 
ho styles himself. I have not read or even 
glanced at “ Docision of Character” in ten 
years, but am certain it contains no pane¬ 
gyric or obstinacy ; nor can I think the great 
essayist over-estimates tho value of decis¬ 
ion. In his “Suspiria do Profundis,” tho 
English Opium-Eater thanks God that he is 
a dutiful child of a “ pure, holy, and mag¬ 
nificent church,” [meaning the Establish¬ 
ment ;] and Foster, it is well known, was a 
dissenter, and a mighty one at that. Pos¬ 
sibly tho opium-scented admirer of Church 
and State, felt a little prejudicial nervous¬ 
ness when he sat down to dissect the essays 
of a non-conformist, remembering, no doubt, 
Foster’s declaration that he had acquired 
an “ intensity of detestation of hierarchies 
and secular establishments of religion.” 
Mr. Do Quincey affirms that tho four 
original essays, by which Foster was first 
and best known—including “Decision of 
Character”—have no “ practical character, 
calculated to servo the uses of life.” This 
assertion must bo incorrect. Whatever 
teaches us how to conduct ourselves in or¬ 
der to perform the business of tho world 
successfully and honorably, “ serves the uses 
of life.” I read tho essay on “ Decision of 
Character” many years ago—I read it with 
more than ordinary interest and care, and 
received more than ordinary benefit. As 
much is often acknowledged by others. If, 
as Gilfillan affirms, decision is an intellec¬ 
tual quality rather than a moral power, it is, 
nevertheless, a quality worth improving, and 
the reading of Foster’s essay stimulates the 
ambition in that direction. 
I did not take my pen to dispute with De 
Quincey, whom I regard as, on the Avhole, 
one of the most orthodox critics and splendid 
essayists of the age :—I wish merely to ex¬ 
press my convinctions of the importance of 
early cultivating mental firmness. The re¬ 
sults of an opposite state of mind aro fre¬ 
quently disastrous, sometimes ruinous. A 
young man of flexible purposes, likely to. 
veer with any and every wind that blows, 
will not bo apt to preserve erectness of po¬ 
sition through life; an “ ill wind” will be 
almost certain to prostrate him. 
Some people like to please everybody for 
tho sake of popularity : hence without ex¬ 
traordinary decision, they will resort to 
culpable deeds to avoid giving offence.— 
What is lacking in such people, and some 
others, is the ability to say no, when im¬ 
proper requests are made. This little mon¬ 
osyllable, Timothy Flint calls “a kind of 
Rubicon, or rather tho bow of Achilles,” and 
ho adds that “ whoever knows how to utter 
it with mingled gentleness and firmness, can¬ 
not be said to want the rudiments of a strong 
mind.” 
The ruinous effects of indecision are il¬ 
lustrated in a thousand ways; but a single 
example may suffice. Wo will consider the 
temperance pledge. Many sign it feeling 
the importance of total abstinence, and break 
it, in numerous instances, merely to please 
some kind friend who urges them to drink! 
Simpletons !—they violate their word, and 
take poison into their system, knowing that 
it is poison, because they have not firmness 
enough to say no. It is the same with most 
of the vices. Young men, in particular, are 
led into them because their convictions of 
duty are not backed up by inflexibility of 
purpose. The way to prosper, is to have 
no dalliance with sin. Knowing a practice 
wrong, we should none of it. To drinking, 
gambling and licentiousness, as well as to 
falsehood, theft and the still higher crimes, 
we should say ,—“ Ye are of your father the 
Devil, and we will not shake hands with 
you.” 
The ancients had an adage that “ tho mid¬ 
dle course is safest” [ media tulissimus ibis ] 
—an adage which merits the contempt of 
tho moderns, and of us republicans in es¬ 
pecial. A neutral citizen of a freo country 
is, at best, a milk-and-water man. To va¬ 
cillate, in indifference, between all parties, 
says an American writer previously men¬ 
tioned, “is to incur the distrust and con- I 
tempt of all, and, moreover, strongly to 
manifest the want of principle; as a well 
principled man can hardly fail to have 
opinions and principles in regard to ques¬ 
tions of agitating concernment. Wholly to 
suppress the expression of them, is to want 
tho frank and manly independence of free¬ 
dom, or to act under the restraint of servile 
and mercenary calculations. To choose the 
medium between proposed alternatives, is 
generally to incur the difficulties and dis¬ 
advantages of both, and secure tho advan¬ 
tages of neither,” 
Buffalo, March 15, 1853. 
JUDICIOUS TRAINING OF YOUTH. 
During last summer a select committee 
was appointed by the British House of Com¬ 
mons to investigate the causes and remedies 
of juvenile delinquencies. A vast amount 
of testimony was taken, which is now in 
course of publication. Among the persons 
examined was a Mr. John Ellis, a shoema¬ 
ker, who has been a Ragged-School teacher 
for eight years. A gentleman furnished him 
with means to take in charge fifteen boys 
between the ages of twelve and ninetoen, of 
whom some had committed criminal offences 
and all were extremely vicious. The char¬ 
acter of these boys was very unpromising; 
the course pursued and the result obtained 
may be gathered from tho following ques¬ 
tions and answers.— Episcopal Recorder. 
“Will you proceed to state the way in 
which these boys were treated ? I thought 
that one cause of their crimo was want of 
employment: tlioy had never been used to 
work, and no one had over taken them by 
the hand to train them in the way of work. 
I made the employment of shoemaking as 
amusing to them as 1 possibly could, and 
I found that the boys were verv fond of 
making things themselves, such as shoes.— 
I used to go and sit with them for two or 
three hours a day, and I used to tell them 
that they might, by governing their tongues, 
their tempers, and their appetites, and gov¬ 
erning themselves generally, be much more 
happy if they would put themselves in har¬ 
mony with the laws of their own physical 
nature; and I showed them how wrong it was 
to break the social laws of God, and so 
forth. And I considered that my conversa¬ 
tion with them for two or three hours had 
had a great effect; and I provided them 
with wholesome food, and I gave them 
clothes to wear, and I surrounded them with 
as many comforts as I possibly could. 
“ Will you explain to the committee what 
was the effect which you gradually saw at¬ 
tained upon tho mind of these three boys, 
in consequence of the attention which you 
paid them ? I at once recognized them as 
my children ; they looked upon me as their 
father; and the latent power of their souls 
being brought into existence, there was 
every feeling that 1 could exact from a child 
towards me. 
t “ Had they at first any moral sense ?”•— 
No; when 1 first took them, they did not 
know right from wrong. 
“ Will you explain to tho committee up 
to what point of training you have carried 
those boys in the school, and how gradually 
introduced them into your house ?” My 
principal object always was with these lads 
to put in their power the moans of getting a 
living, by teaching them a bussiness ; with 
regard to their morals, I thought I could 
not do better than set before them a good 
example: I ate with them, and drank with 
them, and slept with them, and I associated 
myself with them in every way; and as far 
as religion goes (I don’t profess to be a re¬ 
ligious teachor.) I showed them the law of 
the Gospel as well as I could. I am not 
much of a scholar myself, and therefore I 
could not cultivate their intellects much. 
“You consider that some person should, 
like yourself, be placed in a position of a 
paront, to give them good moral principle ?” 
That is what we want. I contend that the 
great cause of juvenile crime is the effect 
of a bad mother’s training. 
“ Have you had any boys that you have 
been obliged to give up, whom you positive¬ 
ly could not reclaim ?” I have never 3een 
such a case, and I have confidence that if 
I had any boy who had his right senses 
about him, I could reform him. 
“ How long have these boys been under 
you superintendence ?” I have known 
them these seven years, but it is four years 
since we formed the class. They have been 
in my house above two years and a half; 
the committee gave them up. 1 got places 
for them, and some of tho more expert ones 
in the business are now paying me back 
what they have cost mo, and they have all 
solemnly plegod themselves to pay me back 
by their labor every farthing which they 
have cost mo. 
When moral dignity and Scriptural char¬ 
ity is manifested by human beings a child 
will soo it and adore it. Though I never 
use the rod or anything of that sort, there 
is a feeling in those lads that brings them 
to perfect submission ; they dread my looks, 
or frown, or a word from mo, more than 
they would dread tho lash. 
Finally, says Mr. Ellis “ these lads who 
were once a disgrace, and a curse to society, 
are now as decent and fine young men as ev¬ 
er you saw.” No experiment could have 
been more completely successful. 
The habitual and spontaneous recogni¬ 
tion of a principle in our actions, is the 
mark of a healthy conscience—but all pal- 
terings with our likings, or compromising 
principle with tho expediency, marks an un¬ 
healthy state of the conscience. 
The false appearance of a proud man 
makes his ill-wishers onvious : but could his 
friend behold his heart, ho would have cause 
to weep. 
if or tk IJoung. 
BEING SOMEBODY. 
BY ELIZA A. CHASE. 
“ Come, William, you will go with us this 
afternoon,” said James Grey to his cousin. 
“No, James; and I have already given 
you my reasons for refusing,” was the reply. 
“ A fig for such reasons ! You can’t af¬ 
ford the time ! Why, man—or boy, rather, 
for you will never be a man—what is one 
afternoon, that you are so afraid of spend¬ 
ing it ?” 
•• Much, very much, James. I havo a 
difficult plan almost completed, and wish to 
finish it while the idea is fresh in my mind.” 
“ That everlasting plea again. Some old 
machinery, enough to puzzle tho brain of 
Archimedes himself. Aro you going to in¬ 
vent perpetual motion? I do declare, Wil¬ 
liam Grey, you are enough to provoke the 
pationco of a saint. Forever moping ovor 
plans, diagrams, and models, and heathenish 
machinery, that would make one think your 
room a pagan temple. I expect you will 
apply for a patent for an improvement in 
the car of Juggernaut. But it is of no use 
to talk to you, for you are ‘joined to your 
idols.’ 
“ I would try to be somebody,” ho pet- 
ishly continued, as ho turned toward the 
door. 
“ Would you, James?” was the quiet re¬ 
ply of William, “ Well, I am trying to be 
somebody.” 
“You take a strange way for it, though. 
Hero you are shut up in this dismal room, 
night after night, never enjoying a harmless 
trick with tho rest of us, or giving yourself 
any of the indulgences that make life pleas¬ 
ant. Even a holiday makes no difference 
with you. One would think you loved the 
very sight of the tools and workshop, for 
you have them forever with you.” 
“ Don’t get excited, James,” said William, 
smilling. “ Come, be serious now. Do I 
neglect any of my duties? Do I not per 
form as much labor and succeed as well in 
my trade as any of you? And as for en¬ 
joyment, no one lovos ploasuro better than 
I do. I should enjoy a sail with you this 
afternoon very much, but I cannot indulge 
myself, for my means of improvement are 
limited, and but little of my time can I call 
my own. 
“James, wo are machinists, causing gross, 
material substances to assume shapes of 
beauty and fitness, under the mysterious 
supremacy of our wills. Some call this a 
low, a common business, a mechanical oper¬ 
ation ; but it is not so. There is a mental 
power to which matter must bow, and there 
is nothing higher than to elevate and en¬ 
noble our conceptions, so as to make this 
plastic matter subservient to the best in¬ 
terests of man. It is thus improvements 
are made. First, the ideal, then the cor¬ 
responding outward form. Now, in my 
mind there is shadowed forth, though but 
dimly-” 
“ Save me from such learned inflictions,” 
exclaimed James. “ I have no taste for 
what I cannot understand. Well, William, 
be a dreamer if you please, I am for active 
life and its pleasures. Hurrah for our sail, 
and good-by to the second Fulton!” 
“ Poor James ! A mere hewer of wood 
and drawer of water,” said William, as he 
closed the door and resumed his employ¬ 
ment. 
“ Where’s Will?” cried several voices, as 
James joined his comrades in the street. 
“ Oh, in his room, of course, calculating 
how much beetle power it will take to draw 
an acorn up an ant-hill.” 
“ Couldn’t you prevail on him to come? 
He is one of the best rowers we have.” 
“ Prevail on him? No, you might as well 
try to prevail on an oyster to leave his 
shell! I was really vexed with him, and 
gave a short piece of my mind. I told him, 
at length, I would try to bo somebody,” said 
James, lighting his cigar and twirling his 
cane after the most approved fashion. 
“ Good !” said Harry Gilbert, “ I am glad 
you showed your spirit. William is a good- 
hearted fellow, if he is so full of oddities, 
and it may perhaps start him from his bur¬ 
row. But what did he say?” 
“ Oh, after arguing the matter awhile he 
went off into a learned dissertation, in the 
midst of which I made my escape. His 
‘ conceptions’ and ‘ ideals’ were too much 
for me. He will never bo anybody in the 
world, that’s the long and short of it.” 
James and William Grey were cousins, 
and wore both apprentices in a machine 
shop, where various kinds of machinery 
were made. James, as may be inferred by 
tho foregoing conversation, looked upon his 
employment as a necessary ovil. To him it 
was mere manual labor, a given number of 
blows, a requisite degree of heat, a certain 
expenditure of strength—in a word, it was 
toil in its most literal sense. 
William, on tho contrary, viowod it with 
the eye of an artist. Thero was not merely 
the rough iron to be moulded into some 
uncared-for machine, but, as ho had told 
James, a plastic material, assuming beauty 
by the will of man. Ho studied, therefore, 
not only tho mechanical part of his trade, 
but his inventive genius was excited.— 
Curiosity lod him to examine tho uses and 
peculiar adaptation of the machinery he 
made, till at length his active mind suggest¬ 
ed various improvements. 
All his leisure time was employed in the 
construction of models, and his room might 
have been taken for a miniature patent- 
office. The last year of his apprenticeship 
was nearly at its close, and William had not 
only improved, but had invented several 
really useful designs. 
Looking over a paper one day, he read an 
offer of a prize of a thousand dollars for the 
best model for a peculiar kind of machine¬ 
ry to bo used in a cotton factory. 
“ Why should I not try?” said William. 
Ho understood what was wanted, and day 
after day did he study intensely on the sub¬ 
ject. At length he grasped the idea, and it 
was the model of this upon which he was at 
work when James urged him to join the 
sailing party. 
Late at night his cousin returned, weary 
with pleasure, and found him sitting at the 
table, a sealed package before him, his 
cheeks flushed, an unusual brightness in his 
eye, and a peculiar expression on his coun¬ 
tenance. 
About a week after this a gentleman 
knocked at tho door. It was opened by 
James, who was then alone. 
“ I wish to see Mr. Grey,” said the stran- 
gor, glancing with a smile at the peculiar 
decoration of the room. 
“ My name is Grey,” returned James, 
placing a chair for the guest. 
“Allow mo to congratulate you on your 
success, Mr. Grey,” said tho gentloman 
pointing to a counterpart of the model 
which stood upon the table. 
“ My success ! I do not understand you 
sir,” said James. 
“ Are you not Mr. Grey, the inventor of 
this delicate and important machinery? 
“I am Mr. Grey, but I am not an in¬ 
ventor of any thing,” returned James some¬ 
what bitterly. “ Hero is the fortunate per¬ 
son, my cousin, William Gi'ey,” ho continu¬ 
ed, as William entered. 
“ I rejoice in your success, young man,” 
said the stranger to William. “Your plan 
has met the entire approbation of the com¬ 
mittee, of which I am one. My name is 
Wilson, and 1 am authorized to pay you the 
thousand dollars, and also to advance you 
another thousand on condition that you 
superintend the erection of the works to be 
established.” 
William was astonished, overwhelmed, and 
after expressing his thanks, added, “ I am 
yet an apprentice, and my time will not ex¬ 
pire within some three months. After that 
I will accept your offer, if you will wait till 
then.” 
“An apprentice!” said Mr. Wilson.— 
“ How then, let me ask you, havo you ob¬ 
tained such a knowledge of mechanics?” 
“By saving my leisure moments, joined 
to a love of my business as involving some 
of tho best interests of man.” 
Six months from that time saw William 
in a responsible office, with a high salary, 
and the patentee of several useful inventions 
while James was a journeyman laborer with 
twenty-five dollars a month. 
“ Well, James,” said Harry Gilbert, a short 
time after, “ William is somebody after all.” 
“ Yes,” returned James, “ I think we 
judged him wrongly once. I would give 
all I have in the world to live over my ap¬ 
prentice life. These leisure moments aro 
what make the man after all, Harry !” 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
“ CUBI C MEA SURE.” 
An article undor tho above heading, pub- 
J lished originally, I believe, in tho Worcester 
Spy, has been going the rounds of the pub¬ 
lic press, and has at length found a place in 
tho columns of tho Rural. (Vol. 4, No. 8, 
page 63.) Tho articlo, notwithstanding it3 
popularity, contains an important error '■ 
viz., the “small bureau” was claimed to be 
one-half as large as tho large one, but was 
“ explained and exemplified ” by rule to be 
only one-eighth as largo. Tho truth is, it 
was neither; but, one-fourth as large. The 
largo one was thirty-six inches square in 
front and nine inches deep, and tho small 
one eighteen inches squaro and nine inches 
deep. It was then just one-fourth of the 
size of the largo one. Proof: 36X36X= 
11664, the solid contents of tho large one, 
and 18X18X9=2916, tho solid contents of 
the small ono. The latter number is just 
one-fourth of the former. It may also bo 
demonstrated in several other ways. If a 
squaro box be divided into four parts, each 
part will bo a quarter, not an eighth. 
J. l. h. 
INSTINCT OF THE HONEY-BIRD. 
This extraordinary little bird, which is 
about tho size of a Chaffinch, and of a light 
gray color, will invariably lead a person fol¬ 
lowing it to a wild bees’ nest. Chattering 
and twittering in a state of great excitement, 
it perches on a branch beside the traveler, 
endeavoring by various wiles to attract his 
attention; and, having succeeded in doing 
so, it flies lightly forward in a wavy coui’se 
in tho direction of the bees’ nest, alighting 
every now and then and looking back to as¬ 
certain if tho traveler is following it, all the 
time keeping up an incessant twitter.— 
When at length it arrives at the hollow tree, 
or deserted white ants’ hill, which contains 
tho honey, it for a moment hovers over the 
nest, pointing to it with its bill, and then 
takes up its position on a neighboring 
branch, anxiously awaiting its share of the 
spoil. When the honey is taken, which is 
accomplished by first stupifying the bees by 
burning grass at the entrance of their do¬ 
mestic domicil, tho honey-bird will often 
load to a second and even to a thii'd nest.— 
The person thus following it ought to whis¬ 
tle. The savages in the interior, whilst in 
pursuit, have several charmed sentences 
which they use on the occasion. The wild 
bee of Southern Africa exactly corresponds 
with the domestic garden bee of England. 
They aro very generally diffused through¬ 
out every part of Africa, beeswax forming 
a considerable part of the cargoes of ships 
trading to tho gold and ivory coasts, and 
the deadly districts of Sierra Leone, on the 
western shores of Africa. 
Few boys are barn with talents that ex¬ 
cel ; but all are capable of living well. 
ihmhg pairing. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BE YE READY. 
Be ye ready, for who knoweth 
When the Son of God shall come, 
And with wise, all-seeing purpose, 
Take thee from thy sorrows home : 
He hath known how much of anguish 
Is the lot of all below, 
And has promised that the steadfast, 
All the joys of heaven shall know. 
Earth has many sore afflictions 
Which doth rend the heart with pain,—• 
Friends in whom with faith we’ve trusted, 
Have deceived us o’er again; 
We have tasted Love and Friendship, 
Both have left an aching heart,— 
Trust not earth, but “ be ye ready,” 
For the summons to depart. 
Place not all thy hopes and wishes 
On tins life, which soon must end; 
But let all thy thoughts and actions, 
To a heaven-ward journey tend. 
Then, when earthly objects vanish 
From thy dim uncertain view, 
Thou’lt be ready to inherit 
Heaven, when earth is hade adieu. 
Avon, N. Y., 1853. E. N. 
Translated from the German for the Rural New-Yorker. 
THREE SENTIMENTS. 
Three words of great import I mention 
to you, and though they pass from mouth 
to mouth, they do not spring from without, 
but tho heart alono makes them known. 
And tho man who rofuses to believe in these 
three sentiments, is deprived of all worth. 
Man is f ree-born, though he were born in 
fetters; let not the cry of tho populace 
cause you to err, nor the abuse of raging 
fools; you may woll tremble before the 
slave when he breaks his fetters, but not be¬ 
fore the freeman. 
And virtue is no empty sound, and man 
may practice it during his life; and even if 
he should totter in every cause, ho can nev¬ 
ertheless strive after divino virtue, for what 
tho understanding of tho intelligent does 
perceive, a filial mind practices in simplicity. 
And, there is a God, and, however the 
human will may waver, a Holy Will exists; 
foi;, above time and space tho greatest 
thought moves alive, and though every thing 
circulates in a perpetual change, a quiet 
mind remains unchanged. 
Remember those three sentiments; they 
are of great import:—spread them from 
mouth to mouth, and though they do not 
spring from without, tho heart gives infor¬ 
mation of them. As long as a man believes 
in these thi-eo sontimonts, ho will not be de¬ 
prived of his worth. s. t. 
THEIR DEPARTURE. 
The death of the pure is almost always 
free from suffering. A writer, commenting 
on this fact, gives an instance in which the 
dying one said, “ Do not bo troubled about 
me. I know not how it is, but there is an 
inward power that takes upon itself my suf¬ 
ferings; and these spasms are only an ap¬ 
pearance.” 
The explanation given is alike simple 
and true. When the mind is exalted, the 
infirmitios of tho body fail to control it.— 
It knows then no pain, nor hunger, nor cold. 
It rises abovo the fury of tho flame, and for- 
gots tho agony of the rack. Says tho good 
man,—“Even our natural affections "and 
passions have power, though in a limited 
degree, of suspending our bodily sensations. 
A mother who, a little while ago, was pale 
and drooping undor tho smallest burdens, 
is by and by seen hanging over the bod of 
her striken child; and how changed from 
what sho was ! Her countenance that was 
so pale now beams with life, and the arm 
that hung down is nerved with energy.— 
Tho astronomer in his starry contempla¬ 
tions becomes freo of tho body, and cold, 
hunger, and fatigue, aro alike forgotten.— 
But religious faith, when warm and clear, 
and its eye open on immortality, elevates 
and changes all our affections, and then it 
re-acts upon the whole frame, and sends its 
tranquilizing influence along all its nerves. 
It was this that made tho martyrs almost 
insensible to suffering, and they rose to God 
out of the fires, whilo singing triumphant 
hymns.” Tho poet saw this—felt it. Not 
as an accident, but as a law bonoficent as 
wise. He described it too, and so sweetly, as 
-that blessed mood 
In which the heavy and the weary weight 
Of this unintelligible world 
Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood 
In which the affections gently lead us on, 
Until the breath of this corporeal frame. 
And even the motions of our human blood 
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 
In body, and become a living soul. 
He that loves may bo sure that ho was 
loved first; and ho that chooses God for his 
delight and portion, may conclude confi¬ 
dently, that God hath chosen him to be one 
of those that shall enjoy him, and be happy 
with him for ever; for that our love and 
electing him, is but tho return and reper¬ 
cussion of the beams of his love shining 
among us.— Leighton. 
Charity.— It is an old saying, says Cum¬ 
berland, that charity begins at home ; but 
this is no reason it should not go abroad. A 
man should live with the world as a citizen 
of tho world ; ho may have a preference for 
the particular quarter or squaro, or even al¬ 
ley, in which ho lives, but he should have a 
generous feeling for tho welfare of the 
whole. 
Since wo were born for mutual help, we 
should know the w’orld. 
