THE CITY OF NEW YORK ASLEEP. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SONG.-I THINK OF THEE. 
BY MISS C. M. WILLIS. 
I. 
When' stars are fading from the blue, 
And from her rosy wings 
The morning shakes the pearly dew, 
And up the welkin spring : 
The sky-lark, singing, soars away 
Through heaven’s unclouded sea, 
And sadly, ns I strive to pray, 
I sigh, and think of thee! 
II. 
And when the siin has sunk to rest, 
And evening’s dewy palm 
Is laid on Nature’s verdant breast, 
A holy, heavenly calm 
Comes stealing o’er my soul, 
Like moonlight o'er the sea, 
And yielding to irs soft control, 
I think, dear friend, of thee ! 
Russell, Ohio, 1853. 
PRIMITIVE SIMPLICITY. 
It is quite the fashion of old-fogyism to 
aver the degeneracy of the times, and to 
sigh for tho return of tho good old ways 
and customs of our ancestors of by-gone 
generations. Tho momory of past pleasure 
lingers in tho minds of men, and gilds with a 
kind of rainbow glory tho ovening of our 
days; while pain and sorrow, anxiety and 
fear, toil and trouble, poverty and hardships, 
which were cotemporary with those enjoy¬ 
ments, are all forgotten. 
Tho spinning wheel, which was wont to 
hum in the farmer’s kitchen through tho 
live-long days of summer, is banished from 
the land; the loom in the chamber is dis¬ 
placed, and tho measured pulsations of its 
beating lathe are heard no more. Tho 
home-spun rod-flannel, and tho butternut 
colored fullod-cloth aro out of dato; tho 
primitive carding machine is at present no¬ 
where to ho seen, and tho tenter-bars havo 
rotted away from their posts. All these 
things, and a thousand other equally anti¬ 
quated and slow affairs havo passed away, 
to make room for more scientific, more ex¬ 
peditious, and more economical procosse6 of 
manufacture. What senso or propriety is 
there in lamenting over tho disuse of any¬ 
thing which is suporsodod by a better ? If 
tho combined labor of a hundred girls in a 
mill, can manufacture, by machinery, more 
goods and of a better texture, tastier pat¬ 
tern.Anoro beautiful colors, and finer fabric, 
than a thousand could by hand in the dwel¬ 
lings of our fathers, aro not tho other nine 
hundred relieved from tho toil of the dis¬ 
taff and tho shuttle, for other and nobler 
pursuits ? 
If tho self-acting mule will, of Us own 
motion, unaided by the intervention of a 
human hand, draw out and twist, and wind 
upon tho spool, with mathematical precis¬ 
ion, a thousand endless threads, by which 
a thousand females are released from the 
twirling spindle, why should wo sigh for tho 
“good old times” that would bring back 
this drudgery again upon their hands? If 
one sowing machine will do the work of ten 
seamstresses, will not the death-producing 
toil of these seamstresses bo done away ?— 
The innovation may and will produco dis¬ 
tress at .first, as such an invention always 
does, among tho class of persons whose la¬ 
bor it supersodos; but the evil will work its 
own cure, and at tho worst it will only 
bring about absoluto want in the placo of 
lingering starvation.. It is putting to an 
end at onco tho long agony which wrings 
from the heart of the stitcher, tho dolorous 
song of tho shirt: 
“ Oh ! men with sisters dear! 
Oil! men with mothers and wives ! 
It is not linen you’re wearing out, 
Rut human creature's lives I 
Stitch — stitch — stitch ! 
In poverty, hunger and dirt, 
Sewing at once, with a double thread 
A shroud as well as a shirt 1 ’ 
It is one of tho triumphs of modern civi¬ 
lization, that the powors of nature aro made 
to work for man; that tho tenacity of in¬ 
sensible stool shall lift tho burden from tlio 
aching muscle and overtasked tendon ; that 
electricity, and steam, and fire, shall do tho 
duty of the most menial slave; that the 
human mind shall bo tho director of tlioso 
dotnons which preside over the powors of 
the earth and air, and chain to tho tri¬ 
umphal car of humanity, oven tho light¬ 
nings of heaven ! 
The man who sighs for a return to tho 
primitive simplicity of pthor times, and 
would bring back tho spindle and tho loom 
as they existed in days of yoro, would ban¬ 
ish also tho threshing machiuo and tho saw 
mill, tho trip hammer and tho water-wheel, 
tho steam engine and the electric telegraph, 
the rail car and tho steamship; and his 
doctrines, carried to their ultimate and 
legitimate consequoncos, would turn our 
manufacturing cities into desorts, our com¬ 
mercial marts into desolato places, our 
lakes and oceans into wastes of water, and 
civilized man into a savage. 
Tho good old primitive simplicity of oven 
fifty years past, would, if restored to-day, 
destroy by cold, exposure and starvation, 
one-half of tho human race. Tho whole 
producing labor of the old thirteen States, 
would be required to do tho carrying trade 
of half a dozen of our sea-board cities.— 
Our forests would melt away in a year to 
supply as fuel tho placo of anthracite coal. 
Five hundrod wagons would tako the placo 
of one Railroad train, and be twenty days 
at that, in doing tho work of a locomotive 
for a day. Twenty crack vessels of fifty 
years ago would not boar a single burden of 
tho clipper ship Great Republic. Starva¬ 
tion and want^would stare in tho face and 
tread on the heels of “Primitive Simplici¬ 
ty.” It answered for tho days in which 
it existed, but it will not do for those that 
have succeeded ; and tho man who prays 
for its return, unwittingly invokes.upon the 
heads of his fellow men a most direful curse. 
For the Rural Few-Yorker. 
LIFE IN THE COUNTRY. 
We all havo a natural desire for rural 
life. Far from tho noise of cities and the 
factitious enjoyments which their vain and 
tumultuous society can display, with what 
vividly felt pleasure wo go thither to 
breathe tho air of health, liberty and peace. 
A scone, a thousand times moro interest¬ 
ing than those which artinvents to amuse or 
divert you, is hero spread before your view. 
Tho silence of tho night is as yet in¬ 
terrupted only by tho plaintive and tender 
singing of tho nightingale, or by tho light 
zephyr which murmurs in tho foliage, or tho 
confused noise of tho bruok which rolls its 
sparkling waters in the meadow. Do you 
seo yonder hills gradually disrobe them¬ 
selves of tho purple veil which conceals 
them, those gently agitated harvests swing 
to and fro under uncertain shadows, those 
castles, those woods, those cottages fantas¬ 
tically grouped, rise from tho bosom of va¬ 
por, or mark tncmselves out with waving 
strokes in azure swells of tho air ? 
We do not sufficiently remark the aston¬ 
ishing influence by which nature holds us 
subjection, in spite of tho great variety of 
our tastes, and tho low depravity of our in¬ 
clinations. I have no doubt that in the 
country our sensibility becomes less proud 
and moro lively, that we love our friends 
with moro frankness, our wivos with moro 
tenderness, that we feel greater pleasure in 
the gayeties of our children, that wo speak 
with less acrimony of our enemies, with 
moro indifference of fortune. Is it while 
breathing tho balmy air of tho evening, 
while walking in tho sweet and tranquil 
light of the stars, that you can contrive a 
perfidious plot, or meditate upon sad ven¬ 
geance. ? This arbor which your hands havo 
planted, where the honev-sucklo, tho jessa¬ 
mine and the rose interlace their fragrant 
stems, havo you adorned it with so much 
care only to bo subject to painful dreams of 
ambition ? In this rural solitude which 
your fathers have inhabited, in this asylum 
of morals, of confidence, of peace, what sig¬ 
nifies to you tho vain discourses of men, 
their baso intrigues, their impotent hatred, 
their deceitful promises ? What impress¬ 
ion can the tiresome recital of their orroi’8 
01 their crimes still make upon your mind ? 
When a stormy day declines, thus the thun¬ 
der in the cloud floating above tho borders 
of the horizon roars—thus tho torrent, which 
ravages at tho distance a wild and rustic 
earth, resounds. 
LAWS OF HEALTH. 
Children should bo taught to use tho left 
hand as much and as well as the right. 
Coarso bread is much better for children 
than fine. 
Children should sleep in separate beds, 
and should not wear night-caps. 
Children under seven years of ago should 
not bo confined over six or seven hours in 
the houso—and that time should bo broken 
by froquont recesses. 
Children and young people must be made 
to hold their heads up and shoulders back 
while standing, sitting, or walking. The 
best beds for children are of hair, or in win¬ 
ter of hair and cotton. 
Young persons should walk at least two 
hours in tne opon air. 
Young persons should bo prevented from 
bandaging the chest. We have known throe 
cases of insanity, terminating in death, 
which began in this practice. 
Every person, great and small, should 
wash all over in cold water every morning. 
Reading aloud is conducive to health. 
The more clothing we wear, other things 
being equal, tho less food wo need. 
Young people, and others, cannot study 
much by lamp-light with impunity. The 
best remedy for eyes weakened by night use, 
i3 a fine stream of cold water frequently ap¬ 
plied to them .—London Lancet. 
There is no estimating tho good which 
each and every individual may accomplish 
if they will but make a propor use of tho 
talents they possess. “ I can do something 
for good,” should be tho standing, over 
presont rule of our lives. To accomplish 
this good should constitute tho greatest aim 
of our existence. Thus will tho world be 
made somewhat better by our having lived 
in it. 
It is curious to see tho circulation of a 
great city commence in tho morning—the 
great city that had roared itself to sleep.— 
True thero was a foeblo pulse all night; tho 
cars beat to and fro; a carriage now and 
then gave a flutter, but after all there had 
been a quiet hour. About half a million of 
the people had been lying “ on a dead lev¬ 
el,” for four or five hours; somo on pillows 
of down and some on curb-stones ; some be¬ 
neath siffen counterpanes and some bo- 
neath tho groat blue quilt of heaven.— 
Queer figure they make in the mind’s eye, 
to bo sure—400,000 folks, moro or less, 
lying on their backs—lying in tiers or rows 
five or six miles long—lying three or four 
deep. In the cellar that is the “primitive 
formation”—then first Hoor. second, third, 
and so on up to the garret. Three hundred 
thousand people snoring—what a concert ! 
Two hundred thousand people dreaming.— 
Two hundred thousand peoploinred night¬ 
caps; one hundred thousand in white, and 
here and there one trimmed with lace.— 
Fifty thousand curls twisted up in papers, 
giving their owners an appearance of hav¬ 
ing made a pillow of cigar-lighters. Twen¬ 
ty thousand curls hanging over the backs of 
chairs, or tossed upon tables. How gently 
Time touches such people : they never grow 
gray at all ! Ten thousand peoplo weep¬ 
ing, and now and then one dying ; dying in 
his sleep ; dying in a dream. And then the 
getting up is ridiculous enough; though 
going to bed— should we say “ retiring” in 
these refined times ?—is a solemn piece of 
business, whether people think of it or not. 
But tho getting up, and waking up, is funny 
enough for a farce—its process a species of 
gradualism. Here’s one who has slept “like 
a top ” for nine solid hours, and now begins 
to wake; first its a half lurch and a long 
breath and a yawn ; then an arm is thrust 
out, then a foot; the muscles are waking 
up. Next, the rattle of tho early wagons 
strikes his ear; hearing is “coming to.”— 
Then his tongue moves uneasily; taste is 
returning. Last, big eyes open, one after 
tho other—then half close, then open again, 
and tho man’s awake—awake all over— 
awake for all day. There’s another, sound 
asleep this minute, and this ho shakes him¬ 
self like a hugo Newfoundland, springs up 
“ percussion,” and the thing is done; the 
fellow hasn’t a sleepy hair about him.— 
Snowy quilts that have just risen and fallen 
with the soft bosom beneath, begin to grow 
uneasy. Tho sweet sleepers are waking, so 
wo 11 draw the curtains and leavo them to 
their toilette. Bundles of rags in dark, 
damp corners toss and tumblo; there’s 
something alive underneath. Out it comes 
—more rags. Misery makes no toilette, and 
thero aro no curtains to draw. — JY. Y. 
Tribune. 
THE NORTH CAROLINA TWINS. 
The Raleigh Post says:—Those little 
wonders havo been exhibited in this city for 
several days during tho present week to 
many visitors. They are regarded bv all 
who have seen them as the most remarkable 
human curiosity over produced with a pros¬ 
pect of life. 
They aro two little negro girls, about two 
years and three months old, of a brown col¬ 
or, well grown, good looking and very 
sprightly. Their names are Christian and 
Milly, but each applies the latter name to 
tho other. Tho visitor will generally find 
them seated on a table, neatly dressed, ex¬ 
hibiting to tho first view no evidenco of de¬ 
formity; but on examination, the anatomist 
will find them united to each other in a 
most remarkable manner at tho lower ex¬ 
tremity of the spine, the vertebrm of what 
is callod, in anatomical language, the “ os 
sacrum,” being blendod so as to constitute 
apparently one bono. All of the pelvic or¬ 
gans are evidently distinct, with the single 
exception of a common termination of tho 
intestines. 
These interesting little creatures are just 
beginning to learn to walk with the aid of 
an attendant, but their progress in locomo¬ 
tion must necessarily be slow and awkward 
for some time to come. The personal iden¬ 
tity of the two does not seem to bo at all 
confounded by the union. 
There is no community of sonsation, and 
thoy sloop and oat, and laugh and cry, as 
independently as any two individuals who 
are entirely unconnected. It is remarkable 
that tho pulse of tho ono generally beats 
considerably moro to tho minute than that 
of tho other. 
Wo advise all medical men every whero 
to see those rermakablo children, as they 
present a caso of unparallelled interest to 
the anatomist. They are incomparably moro 
wonderful than tho celebrated Siamese 
Twins, or any other living specimen of nat¬ 
ural anatomical union. 
THE AMERICAN CHARACTER. 
Yes, my sweet Agatha, I cannot toll 
whether l rightly know the American char¬ 
acter ; but of this I am certain, that what I 
do know of it is more beautiful and more 
worthy to be loved than any other that I 
am acquainted with in the world. Their 
hospitality and warm-heartedness, when 
their hearts are once warmed, are really 
overflowing, and know no bounds. And as 
some travelers see and make a noise about 
their failings, it is very well that there 
should be somebody who, before anything 
else, becomes acquainted with their virtues. 
And these failings of theirs, as far as I can 
yet. see their national failings, may all ho 
attributed principally to tho youthful lifo of 
the people. In many cases I recognize pre¬ 
cisely the faults of my own youth—the ask¬ 
ing of questions, want of reflection, want of 
observation of themsolves and others, a 
boastful spirit, and so on. — Fredrika Bre¬ 
mer. 
Jfflr % 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE CONSUMPTIVE. 
It was a fair bright evening in the early Spring; 
And nature had put on her glorious attire 
Of bright hued flowers; and gentle zephyrs 
Lightly fanned the placid features of the smiling 
Earth, and softly whispered ’mid the dew-laden 
Leaflets of the shady grove, within whose 
Leafy bowers the Nightingale trilled forth 
His soul subduing vesper anthem, on the 
Stilly night. The purling brook, that 
All day long had leaped, and danced, 
In joyous ecstasy, to meet the glorious sunlight; 
Now flowed calmly on, as though it feared 
To wake the deep and holy hush of even tide : 
All Nature slept. And over all, fair 
Cynthia shed her silvery ray sof 
Beaming light, and the bright stars, 
Peeped out from Heaven; like angels eyes, 
To guard the sleeping world from harm. 
To aid its flight, I caught it, and, as this 
was my first opportunity of examining 
closely one of thoso tiny creatures, I held 
it a few moments for that purpose. After 
satisfying our curiosity, and painod by its 
cries of fear, we concluded to let it go. It 
was raised on the hand, but instead of se¬ 
curing its liberty, tho moment tho fingers 
were unclasped, it lay as if hardly realizing 
it was indeed free to fly. Thero, panting 
from exertion, glittering in all the bright¬ 
ness that could fix tho gaze, it lay on the 
hand resting for flight; then, on wings of 
music, up, up, and away it sped toward 
heaven in tho glad sunlight of that Sabbath 
morning. 
One minute we stood looking and listen¬ 
ing, till tho hum of its wings was gone, and 
its gay colors were lost in the light of the 
sun, toward which it fled. What wonder 
So peaceful, and serene it seemed, 
As Paradise at first, ere sin had 
Introduced its hideous form into man’s 
Eden, withering the bright flowers of 
Truth, and Innocence, and Joy, with 
Its pestiferous breath. Oh 1 ’twas a scene, 
On which an angel might have 
Dwelt for aye. Strange 1 that in such 
A world of untold beauty, sorrow 
Should tread upon the heels of joy; 
And Death commingle with the 
Warm, quick pulse of Life. 
But so it is; Death holds a wide extended 
Empire, and his dread mandates ne'er 
Are disobeyed. He speaks! and sunny 
Hearted childhood quick subdues his 
Ringirg laugh, and joyous shout, and 
Plumes his cherub pinions for an upward 
Flight. Manhood forgets his Dreams 
Of Love, and Fame; and doting A go 
Looks trusting forward through the 
Mists of time, to a far happier and 
A better world. Still it is hard to die: 
And all, from smiling infant, to the 
Gray haired sire, shrink from the chilling 
Wave. And harder still for those who live, 
To give the cherished and the loved ones up, 
And view the insatiate monster seize his prey. 
Within a humble cottage, in the far-off wilds 
Of mighty Oregon, a widowed mother sat 
And watched beside the dying couch of one, 
Who for ten lonely summers had repaid 
Her anxious toil, with childhood’s pure. 
And trusting love. And she had learned 
In his bright look6 to trace the semblance 
Of the early lost, and look with hope • 
Unto the time, when manhood's proud 
Estate he’d gained, that he would be 
Her si lace, and her s’ay, and smooth 
Her onward passage to the grave. B ut 
There he lay, within the shadow of the 
Deepening twilight, waiting the coming 
Of the expected messenger to bear him home. 
His wealth of clustering curls, through 
Which her gentle fingers oft had strayed, 
Now lay iu dark and heavy masses on his 
Parian brow, while the whispering breeze 
That struggled through tiie vine-wreathed 
Casement, in vain essayed to lift them 
From their resting place, or cool the fever tide 
That rushed like molten lava through 
His burning veins. Those loving eves, once 
Beaming with affection’s glance, gave 
Now no token of remembrance to her 
Aching gaze. And scarce the surface 
Of the polished mirror told that yet 
The wheels of life rolled on. Since 
Early morn, in that deep Death-like trance 
Her boy has lain, Oh 1 who can tell 
What painful memories of the unforgotten 
Past, mingle with her thoughts beside 
That dying couch. Blest visions of a 
Happy youth ; a paaceful home, 
And the companionship of faithful friends, 
All 1 all 1 are gone, but the one feeble 
Link in the great chain of Life. 
And this is almost broken; “ Oh God! 
It is too much;" and with an aching 
Heart, and quivering lip, she turns away, 
And falling on her bended knees, 
The Christian and the mother prays. 
Long! long! upon her bended knees 
She holds communion with her Maker; 
And when again she stauds beside the couch, 
And presses hard her burning palms 
Upon those clay cold temples—“ Oh 1 
Might he but wake to consciousness 
Again, tiiat I might hear once more 
Those well loved tones. I then could 
Give him up, my heart's own cherished 
Idol 1” 
Wearily the lagging hours rolled 
On; no sense of weariness oppresses 
Her. Oh 1 what is purer than a mother’s love 1 
Night mergeth into day, and as Apollo’s 
Fiery steeds prepare to mount the azure 
Vault, and the dim fleeting shadows fly 
Away, he opes his languid eyes. And 
On her listening ear those thrilling words, 
“ Mother, I’m going home,” strike faintly. 
Then, again they closed, and upward, 
Mounting with the rising sun, his 
Pure young spirit flics away to the 
Elysian fields. 
They laid him in the 
Grand old forest, there to rest. The sighing 
Winds sang o’er his leafy bier their 
Mournful dirge. And the fond widowed mother 
Was alone with God! Ellixgwood. 
TO A MOURNING MOTHER- 
shall your ear be charmed by the music of 
that infant voice. He was your youngest, 
and boforo he had bocomo familiar with the 
dark ways of the world, in which all is not 
pure as when turned from tho Creator’s 
hand—while yet his voico went forth in 
childish glee, and love to all—while every 
tono was yet sweet to your oar, and before 
by any sinful act his presence brought a 
pang to your heart, his heavenly Father 
called him to como up higher. “ It is well” 
that you should weep on tho grave of your 
youngest. Yet romembor your child is but 
a few steps before, led by the hand of the 
most High, to lure you on to heaven. 
Ono Sunday morning I found a humming 
bird unable to escapo through the open win¬ 
dow by which it had entered my room.— 
wo felt a momentary sadness as it left us ; 
yet could wo wish it back ? 
So is it with your boy. Though clad in 
robes of light, yet you cannot seo him for 
tho brightness of that heaven to which lie 
has been called. Though his voice has now 
a music it never had on earth, it reaches 
not your oar. You weep because he is 
gone ; yet remembering ho is another 
treasure in heaven, can you wish him back? 
Suissac. 
HOW TO AVOID A BAD HUSBAND- 
1. Never marry for wealth. A woman’s 
lifo consisteth not in tho things sho poss¬ 
essed). 
2. Never marry a fop, or one who struts 
about dandy-liko, in his silk gloves and 
ruffles, with silvered cano, and rings on his 
fingers. Beware !—there is a trap. 
2. Never marry a niggard, a close-fisted, 
mean, sorid wretch, who saves every penny, 
or spends it grudgingly. Tako caro lest he 
stint you to death. 
4. Never marry a stranger, or one whoso 
character is not known or tested. Some 
females jump right into tho fire, with their 
eyes wide open. 
5. Never marry a mope or drone, ono 
who drawls and draggles through life, ono 
foot after another, and lets things take their 
own course. 
6 Never marry a man who treats his 
mother or sister unkindly or indifferently. 
Such treatment is a sure indication of a 
mean and wicked man. 
7. Never, on any ^account, marry a gam¬ 
bler, a profane person, ono who in the least 
speaks lightly of God or religion. Such a 
man can never make a good husband. 
8. Never marry a sloven, a man who is 
negligent of his person or his dress, and is 
filthy in his habits. The external appear¬ 
ance is an index to the heart. 
9. Shun the rake as a snake, a viper, a 
very demon. 
10. Finally never marry a man who is 
addicted to tho use of ardent spirits. De¬ 
pend upon it, you are better off alono, than 
you would ho were you tied to a man whose 
breath is polluted, and whose vitals are bo- 
ing gnawed out by alcohol. 
In tho choice of a wife, take the obedient 
daughter of a good mother. 
WOMAN’S RIGHTS. 
One of the most curious documents pre¬ 
served from the olden time, is the following 
petition, signed by sixteen maids, to the 
Governor of South Carolina, praying for 
relief from the charms and captivations of 
widows. It bears date March first, the “day 
of the feast 
To His Excellency, Governor Johnson. 
Tho humble petition of maids whoso 
names are underwritten : 
Whereas, we, tho humble petitioners, are 
at present in a very melancholy disposition 
of mind, considering how all the bachelors 
are blindly captivated by widows, and our 
moro youthful charms thereby neglected; 
the consequence of this our request is, that 
your Excellency will for tho future order 
that no widow shall presume to marry any 
young man till the maids are provided for ; 
or else to pay each of them a fine for satis¬ 
faction, for invading our liberties; and like¬ 
wise a fine to be laid on all such bachelors as 
shall be married to widows. The great dis¬ 
advantage it is to us maids is, that the wid¬ 
ows by their forward carriages, do snap up 
tho young men; and have the vanity to 
think their merits boyond ours, which is a 
great imposition upon us who ought to have 
tho preference. 
This is humbly recommonded to your 
Excellency’s consideration, and hope you 
will prevent any further insults. 
And wo poor maids, as in duty bound, 
will ever pray. 
P. S. I being the oldest maid, and there¬ 
fore most concerned, do think it proper to 
be the messenger to your Excellency in be¬ 
half of my fellow subscribers. 
Queen Victoria an Example to Moth¬ 
ers.— The Archdeacon of London being en¬ 
gaged on one occasion in catechizing tho 
young princes, and being surprised at the 
accuracy of their answers in the Catechism, 
said to the Prince:—“Your governess de¬ 
serves great credit for instructing you so 
thoroughly in the Catechism.” Whereup¬ 
on the royal boy responded, “Oh, but it is 
ma who teaches us the Catechism.” 
How many American mothers, with few¬ 
er cares, and fewer temptations to luxurious 
indulgence, havo to confess to an utter neg¬ 
lect of this important duty! Many boys 
whose parents aro nominally Christian can 
say with truth, Our mothers never taught 
us the Catechism. We hope some of them 
may tako a profitable hint from a Queenly 
practice .—Episcopal Recorder. 
