MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: 
AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
FEB. 2. 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE 
THE OLD, OLD HOME. 
Whkn I long for sainted memories, 
Like angel-troops they come, 
If I fold my arms to ponder 
On the old, old home. 
The heart lias many passages, 
Through which the feelings roam, 
But its middle aisle is sacred, 
To the old, old home. 
Where infancy was sheltered, 
Like rosebnds from the blast, 
Where boyhood’s brief elysium 
In joyousness was pass’d ; 
To that sweet spot forever, 
As to some hallowed dome, 
Life's pilgrim bends his vision, 
’Tis his old, old home. 
A father sat, how proudly, 
By that hearth-stone’s rays, 
And told his children stories 
Of his early manhood’s days ; 
And one soft eye was beaming. 
From child to child’t would roam ; 
Thus a mother counts her treasures 
In the old, old home. 
• The birth-day gifts and festivals, 
The blended vesper hymn, 
(One dear one who was swelling it, 
Is with the Seraphim,) 
The fond “good-nights,” at bed timo, 
How quiet sleep would come, 
And hold us all together, 
In the old, old home. 
Like a wreath of scented (lowers, 
Close intertwined each heart, 
But time and change in concert 
Have blown the wreath apart, 
But sainted memories, 
Like angels ever come, 
If I fold my arms and ponder, 
On the old, old home. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
SKETCHES OF A LIFE. 
June Gth. —To-morrow and to-morrow, a sun¬ 
rise and sunset, and then, please God, Mattie 
and I will be married. My heart does not 
throb as I write it — it is full of a quiet joyous¬ 
ness, and only listens to a low, sweet song that 
murmurs through it. I don’t know when I be¬ 
gan to love my Mattie ; — God gave her to me, 
and so I loved her always. She has none on 
earth but me,—but the Father in heaven loveth 
her, and the angels in heaven are all akin to her. 
Once, when the days were long and sunny, 
standing under the still, broad heaven, I looked 
in her eyes and said,—“ Mattie, I have loved 
you always,”—and in that hour the angels called 
her mine. 
And now’tis the midnight — but two hours 
since I stood beside her, loookingyiut upon the 
green earth so rocked in a cradle of moonbeams. 
The good-night words came slowly to my lips, 
and I added hopefully—“to-morrow and to¬ 
morrow, dear heart, and then you will be mine.” 
I thought her voice sounded very sad as she 
said—“Say, please God, dear Walter; the 
morrow is a sealed book in his hand; who 
knows what may be written on its pages for us ?” 
Sweet saint! she will surely lead me nearer 
heaven. 
10 th. —Oh, what a weary morrow, so folded 
in shadows, so dark with clouds. Mattie, my 
beautiful Mattie, is near to death. Death ! — 
can death be nearing her ? Shall the star of my 
night go down in mid-heaven, and leave my 
life so blighted and desolate ? It must not be ; 
I cannot give thee up, beloved. Oh, rightly 
didst thou say, “ the morrow is a sealed book.” 
June 30 lh. —The fever is past now, and my 
darling lies a helpless thing, with the breath just 
trembling on her lips — too weak even to smile 
on me. And now I tremble when I remember 
that consumption has taken from her one and 
another of the household band, till she alone is 
left. They say the sea air will strengthen her, 
and so in a few days, those who have learned to 
love her tenderly, will take her away— away 
from me — for this wilful, passionate heart can¬ 
not beat calmly beside her. 
August 1st. —There is life for all but her, and 
she is fading slowly away from the light. I 
have been beside her; I crushed the sobs back 
upon my heart; I did not even tremble, but in 
my soul awoke a fearful cry, “Isjst, lost, Oh, 
never more." 
15 th. —She is coming back to me again, for a 
little time, and then. Thus she has written me, 
—“ They are taking me home to die. So gently 
has the white-browed messenger drawn near to 
me, that I fear him not; and he is to me but a 
loving angel. I am not afraid to go—I know in 
whom I have believed, and as my life fades into 
its twilight shadows, I can see by the gathering 
darkness how full of stars will be its night.— 
White wings flash about me, and brighten all 
the gloom. Yet is life very sweet, for in my 
heart is folded a perfect love, and for a time it 
was hard to think of death. But when the 
Father called I might not tarry. On earth I 
was wholly yours — in heaven I shall love you 
always.” 
September 25<7t.— She died —and this is all—she, 
my Evangel,— and I prayed God to hide me 
from the light. Then soul and brain grew dark 
and there was a stormy, dreary time, from which 
I awoke nerveless, hopeless, despairing. I stood 
by the grave they had made her. Under my 
feet the grass grew thick and rank, creeping 
quietly to cover all her grave. Over my head 
the stars went singing on their courses, so far off, 
so pitiless. I wanted to blot them from the 
heaven, to shut out light from the earth, and joy 
from every human heart. I could not brook 
that earth should be such a living, glowing 
thing, and bud and blossom over her head. I 
could not brook that violets should spring from 
her dust. I went to the old homestead ; it was 
hushed and alone. On the threshold the moon¬ 
beams lay very still and unbroken. The stars 
looked down upon the dew-drops and brought 
them all to light. The wind lifted the willow 
branches and swung the vines to fro. Nothing 
seemed to miss her ; the grass had sprung up 
where her foot had pressed it down, and just 
as in daysagone, the brook by the garden fence 
went rippling among the pebbles, tinkling over 
the tiny fall, and winding away, half lost, 
through the meadow land. 
Yet I did not weep. I threw myself upon 
the ground and looked upward. I thought of all 
my life. Page after page rose up before me, 
glowing out as it were from the dark back¬ 
ground of my misery. I saw It all strangely 
near, yet I did not then think to wonder at it. 
Afatlie'was dead, and nolhing startled me,—-my 
boyhood, my manhood, and, running through 
all, my one love for her. Sometimes a faint, 
sweet hope of meeting her again would rise up 
before me, but when I strove to grasp it, it would 
float away beyond my reach. 1 folded my arms 
tightly over my heart, and only murmured, 
“ Thou hast taken away my idol, and what have 
I left ?” Suddenly, as if the clouds in tossing 
and shifting had brought the sun to view, came 
the remembrance of Mattie’s Avords, “ Say 
Please God, dear Walter," and the great despair 
that overshadowed me lifted quite away ; tlie 
iron-grasp upon my heart loosened, and 1 could 
feel it beat again, quick, heavy throbs, for it 
swelled with a weight of tears. Kneeling there 
upon the dewy turf I prayed the dear Lord to 
make me moet to love one Avhom He had taken. 
I knew then she was not Wholly lost to me, and 
I felt very glad, very thankful that such a love 
had blessed my life. 
And now I am ready for the strife, the toil, 
the long, earnest endeavor. There are no more 
visions for me ; I have dreamed my life-dream 
and awakened to find myself alone in the des¬ 
ert. Henceforth, Avith a firmer faith, with a 
higher hope, I will press onward, Avalking in 
the shadoAV of the cross that has fallen on my 
pathway,—and Avhen the day is done, and life’s 
sun slowly sinks behind the mountains, wel¬ 
coming gladly the lengthening shadows, I shall 
say, “to-morrow and to-morrow, and then, dear 
heart, I will be with thee in that country where 
they never say good night.” * * * 
Dead, dead 1—moaning th ough the blank, 
desolate night, Availing underneath the sunlit 
skies of day, sobbing a retrain to every carol, 
ansAvering as an echo every voice— dead, dead. 
Ah, nevermore ! 
Nevermore 1 There Avill be sweet spring 
wakings, and mellow reaping times, summer 
roses banding the green earth, and Avliite win¬ 
try robes folded very closely about her beating 
heart; but thou, Oh Sleeper Avilt never part thy 
white lips Avith one low word of joy, or utter 
one sound of complaint. The skies will flush 
with rose-light, and the leaves start trembling 
to the south wind’s call—the grass will freshen 
in the meadow lands, and violets creep out on 
sunny hill-sides,—yet over thy breast the song 
birds Avill come and go, and the cloud-shadows 
float unheeded. The rain will fall in warm, drea¬ 
my days and make starry blossoms on the turf 
above thee, and young children Avithliappy voices 
will press eagerly to gather them, and heed not 
that underneath are eyes bluer than the spring 
violet, and lips of sweeter breath. 
Nevermore 1 They will wake the song and 
miss not the sweetest voice of all. They will 
sing of the heaven-land and remember not that 
thou art of the dwellers there. They will name 
thee for a little time Avith hushed breath, then 
lightly and amid their mirth, as if they spake 
not of an angel glorified. 
Nevermore ! There will be tears, but not for 
thee ; stricken hearts and weary, but thine will 
be at rest; requiems and bitter wailing, but 
thou wilt be’singing hosanna. We shall be 
bearing the cross, thou wearing the crown—we 
walking by faith, thou by sight—Ave in the land 
of the dying, thou with the living evermore. 
Nevermore to press the lip in pain, to doubt 
and fear, and distrust. Thy beloved are faith¬ 
ful noAv, and thy eye reads clearly all their 
hearts. We shall watch Avhite brows groAV fur¬ 
rowed, soft lips faded, bright eyes dimmed and 
sunny hair silvered, yet shall avo remember thee 
and say, “we loved One who ejrcw not old." 
Dead, dead! She sleeps well. There are 
white arms tossing in unquiet slumbers, young 
hearts beating stormily in fitful dreams, but 
thou, with icy fingers clasped so movelessly 
over thy breast, dost neyer start or murmur; no 
dreams are haunting thee. Dead! It is vkU to 
die, no more to weep. H. o. e. 
Home. —How beautifully has it been asked 
by an eminent writer : “ Is there to be found a 
gift of heaven more precious, more worthy our 
most ardent gratitude, than that of possessing a 
family, a home, Avhere virtues, kindness and 
enjoyments are every-day guests, Avhere the 
heart and the eye sun themselves in a world of 
love, where thoughts are lively aud enlighten¬ 
ed, where friends, not only by Avords but by ac¬ 
tions say to each other, * Thy joy, thy sorrow, 
thy hope, thy prayer is mine T ” 
A True Mother. —A writer beautifully re¬ 
marks that a man’s mother is the representative 
of his Maker. Misfortune and mere crime set 
no barriers between her and her son. While 
his mother lives, a man lias one friend on earth 
Avho Avill not desert him when he is needy. Her 
affection flows from a pure fountain, and ceases 
only at the ocean of eternity. 
Well-taught Children. — Parents should 
recollect that children are little belter than pil¬ 
lows—yielding to the heads that recline upon 
them either comfort and rest, or uneasiness and 
sleepless anxiety, according to the way in Avhich 
they have been filled.— Selected. 
!}tisrrUaiuj. 
SNOW AT NIGHT. 
BY THOMAS K. VAN BEEBES. 
AViiat a night ! Siftings white, 
Smooth as down of feathery pillow, 
Noiseless drop o’er oak and willow. 
Soft and slow falls the snow, 
Faraway as eye can follow, 
O’er tall hill and sleepy hollow. 
Old barn roof stands aloof 
Glimmering ever white and whiter, 
Though night has not a star to light her. 
On all streams, like smothered dreams, 
When they come dull cares to banish, 
Ermine (lakelets melt and vanish. 
By capp’d stack, hoofed track, 
Marks the spot, where, cold and colder, 
Cattle drowse with whitened shoulder. 
Round the hearth ruddy mirth 
Calls joy’s snowy wings to waft her, 
Calls qn merriment and laughter. 
Blight and warm ’midst the storm, 
A fairy fire outside the sashes, 
In mimic splendor sparks and flashes. 
Sweet, 0 sweet, for friends to meet, 
To catch the play of shifting graces, 
Charactered on rosy faces. 
0, the night! Virgin white 
Beall thoughts, all hopes, all fancies, 
All pillow’d dreams, all waking trances. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CIVIL LIBERTY. 
Civil liberty may be defined as tbe privilege 
of speaking or doing Avliat is right, and in being 
restrained from speaking or doing what is 
Avrong. True liberty is exhibited in the Sa¬ 
viour’s Golden Rule—“ Therefore whatsoever 
ye Avould that men should do to you, do ye 
even so to them." This is reciprocal liberty. 
Liberty to speak or do anything Avrong, hoAvev- 
cr agreeable to the agent, is despotism as exer¬ 
cised towards its objects. Liberty to think is 
no liberty at all; tyranny may enslave the 
body of its victim, but his “ better being,” to 
use the language of the poet, 
“ Scorns such base control; 
What chains can bind the immortal soul ?” 
That restraint is perfectly compatible with 
true liberty will at once be conceded, when avc 
consider that liberty to speak and act unre¬ 
strainedly would speedily degenerate into abso¬ 
lute anarchy and despotism ; a state of societ.v 
wherein might would constitute right; know¬ 
ledge Avoukl take advantage of ignorance and 
strength would triumph with impunity over 
weakness. To thousands, however, who vicAv 
liberty as consisting in doing just what they 
please, this may appear strange, if not heterodox 
doctrine ; nevertheless, the. liberty which binds 
ttie social compact is not a creature of the brain 
—the dream of poets; or the beau ideal of the 
enthusiast, but a system of checks and restraints 
rather than that of license and impulse. Under 
such an organization o£ society, based on the 
principles of true liberty, every individual, to 
use the beautiful language of Scripture, may 
“sit under his own vine and fig-tree, none 
daring to make him afraid.” 
Such, however, is human nature, that this 
desirable consummation of things is neither to 
be obtained nor retained, in any body politic, 
except by the formation and adoption of a code 
of laAvs founded on llie principles of justice and 
equity just enunciated. Although laws are 
made only for the “ lawless and disobedient,” 
yet, as a standard of appeal betAveen right and 
wrong, they are essential to the Avell-being of 
every civilized community. Indeed, no society 
however barbarous, no nation however savage, 
has yet been found Avithout some forms of juris¬ 
prudence, however crude, which if not engraved 
on .tables of brass, yet find a place amongst 
such unlettered tribes, on the fleshy tablets of 
the heart, and thus transmitted from father to 
son, along the stream of memory, ancient laws 
descend to modern times. 
In the making and jn the administrating of 
law, care ought to be exercised that neither law 
nor “judgment be turned into wormwood ;” 
legislators and judges should remember the 
conclusion of the Roman twelve tables, “ Solus 
populi supremo lex" —“ The safety of tiie people 
is the highest law.” To every enlightened 
and liberal government, not only is the safety, 
but the Avell-being of the community, the chief 
aim of all their legislative endeavors. Private 
interests and aggrandizements will unhesita¬ 
tingly be sacrificed for the public good ; all 
class legislation, all monopolizing, will be es¬ 
chewed as incompatible with the true interests 
of the public, and the principles of genuine civil 
liberty. 
Under arbitrary governments, laws concocted 
by tbe great and Avealthy are made to crush the 
interests of the industrious. Under legal sanc¬ 
tion they grind the faces of the poor, and, like 
their friends the Pharisees of old, load them Avith 
heavy burdens which they Avill not touch with 
one of their fingers. Thus the law becomes 
dishonored and hated, and instead of being ele- 
vative, is depressive of the general masses. It 
is viewed not as the friend but the enemy of 
the people ; a mighty tool in tho hands of the 
aristocracy for their own aggrandizement, and 
for the oppression and subjugation of the mill ions 
It has been predicted that the British Empire 
Avill never be destroyed except through its Par¬ 
liaments. The same may be predicted of every 
State and Empire in the world. When the 
he art’s blood of tbe constitution becomes vitia¬ 
ted,—when the fountain of life becomes cor¬ 
rupt,—then the dissolution of the body politic 
may speedily be expected. 
How important, then, that wise and good men 
be placed in office — men who will so order the 
affairs of the State that “justice and judgment 
will be the stability of the time ;” how incum¬ 
bent on electors to reject all the high-sounding 
professions of place and pension-seekers, and 
vicAv such as political cormorants, whose only I 
wish is to prey on the vitals of 1 He State. 
In our happy land, it is not only the duty but 
the honor of every right-minded citizen to ren¬ 
der a hearty obedience to the laws, and to “ the 
powers that be.” In honoring these he honors 
himself; in dishonoring them, he tramples on 
his own authority. 
It is alike the dictate of Scripture, as of com¬ 
mon sense, that we “render honor to whom 
honor is due,” and those Avhom the people de¬ 
light to honor with situations of power and trust, 
are entitled to that outward respect and esteem 
at once due to their character and their office. 
The speaking “evil of dignities,” ought to be 
deprecated by every honest mind, and the fact 
that an individual is raised to power and office, 
is no reason why he should be set up as a mark 
to be shot at, by the envenomed shafts of malice 
and envy. Hoav many noble minds have fallen 
victims to that 
“ Envy that withers at another’s joys, 
Anri scorns the excellence it cannot reach !” 
Allegan Co., Mich. N. D. R. 
A STRING OF PEARLS. 
’Tis best to place dependence upon Heaven 
alone—a sure anchor. 
One of eminent learning said, that such as 
would excel in arts, must excel in industry. 
To hear the discourse of Avise men delights us, 
and their company inspires us Avith noble and 
generous contemplations. 
The children of those who do not love in 
marriage, seem to bear an hereditary coldness, 
and do not love their parents as other children do. 
One angry word sometimes raisesa storm that 
time itself cannot al day. 
Migth is like a fias of lightning, that breaks 
through a gleam of clouds, and glitters for a 
moment cheerfulness keeps up a kind of day¬ 
light in tli mind,and fills it Avith a steady and 
perpetual soi enity. 
Kindnesses .are stowed aAvay in the heart like 
bags of lavender in a drawer, to sweeten every 
object around them. 
Neither men i ir women can become Avhat 
they Avere intendo u to be by carpeting their 
progress with velvet real strength is tested by 
difficulties. 
It was a saying of a great divine, that lie had 
found more good in people called bad, and more 
bad in people usually considered good, than he 
expected. 
A man must possess fire in himself before he 
can kindle up the electricity that thrills the 
great popular heart. 
A BEAUTIFUL INCIDENT. 
A naval officer being at sea in a dreadful 
storm, his wife Avas sitting in the cabin near him, 
and filled Avith alarm for the safety of the ves¬ 
sel, was so surprised at his serenity and com¬ 
posure that she cried out: 
“My dear, are you not afraid’( How is it 
possible you can be so calm. in such a storm ?” 
He rose from his chair, dashed it to the deck, 
drew his sword, and pointing it at the breast of 
his Avife, exclaimed : 
“Arc you not afraid ?” , . 
She immediately answered, “ No^b.."" ■> ; 
“ Why ?” said the officer. 
“Because,” rejoined the wife, “I know this 
sword is in the hands of my husband, and he 
loves me too avcII to hurt me.” 
“ Then,” said he, “ I know in whom I believe, 
and that lie Avho holds the wind in his fist, and 
the waters in tbe hollow of his hand, is my 
Father.” 
A NOBLE SENTIMENT. 
At a dinner given by the late Duke of Cam¬ 
bridge, Queen Victoria’s uncle, a celebrated 
painter, Gudin, Avas present. The Duke gave 
him a formal Iioav, but presently a knot of poets, 
politicians and others gathered round him.— 
“ What—what is that ? Who—who—who is he ? 
Introduce him again. Painter, is he ? Her 
majesty loves pictures. He must go—he must 
go to court.” An attendant Avhispcrcd that he 
could not go to court as a painter ; but as he had 
formerly been a lieutenant in the French army, 
lie might be presented as an officer. The Duke 
made the proposition to Gudin. The painter, 
drawing himself up to his full height, replied 
proudly, in the hearing of all, “The King of 
France made me a lieutenant, God made me a 
painter. I Avill go to court as a painter, or not 
at all.” 
ADVICE TO TALKERS. 
When we have much to say, the chief diffi¬ 
culty is to hold back some favorite thought, 
Avhich presses to come on before its time, and 
thereby makes a confusion in the rest. If you 
are master of your temper, and conscious of your 
superiority, the Avords and thoughts Avill keep 
their ranks, and Avill come into action with all 
their energy, compactness and weight. Never 
attempt to alter your natural tone of voice ; 
never raise it above its pitch; let it at first 
be sonjeAvhat low and slow. This appears like 
diffidence ; and men are obliged to listen the 
more attentively, that they may hear it. Be¬ 
ginning with attention, they will retain it during 
the whole speech; but attention is, Avith diffi¬ 
culty, caught in the course of one.— Landor. 
-- 
There is an infinity of modes of conduct 
Avhich can be made by the envi< u; and malig¬ 
nant to appear ridiculous and blameworthy, tho 
secret reasons of which are Aviso, sound and 
righteous. t 
VARIOUS VIEWS OF MARRIAGE. 
To pursue the subject a step further, and at. 
tend to the “ lords of creation,” we take from 
Dr. Edward Thompson’s “ Letters from Eng¬ 
land,” the following remarks on the different 
views which exist respecting marriage in differ¬ 
ent countries : 
One says — 
“ I wish to take advice about a serious mat¬ 
ter that weighs heavily on my mind.” 
“ What is it ?” 
“ Getting married. Is it best ?” 
“ Who have you in view ? If she is young, 
handsome and virtuous, the sooner you get her 
the better. Who is she ?” 
“ Oh, nobody in particular; it is marrying in 
tbe abstract that I am thinking about.” That 
is young Germany. 
“ Zounds ! I love her, and I will have her, if 
I have to swim the river for her.” Young 
America. 
“ No -use to deny me or run from me. Where 
you go I will go, where you stop I will stop, 
where you live I will live, Avhere you die I Avill 
die, where you are buried there I will be buried.” 
That is young Ireland. 
“ She is worth three thousand one hundred 
and twenty-seven pounds, six shillings and four- 
pence halfpenny, Avhich, under the circumstan¬ 
ces, is not quite sufficient.” Young England. 
DIFFERENCE IN MEN. 
We often see_ an old and well-beaten man 
who never had a success in his life, who always 
knew more and accomplished less than his asso¬ 
ciates, who took the quartz and dirt of enterprise* 
Avhile they took the gold ; and yet, in old age, 
lie is the happier ifiari. He had a sum of hope, 
and they of desire and greed—and amid all this 
misfortune, and his mysterious providences, he 
had that within him which rose up and carried 
his heart above all troubles, and upon their 
world-wide waters bore him up like the old Ark 
upon the Deluge. It was the Deluge that gave 
out—not the Ark. God has distributed his 
gifts. It takes a score of them to make one 
man. One supplies the swift sagacity ; another 
the cautious logic ; another the impelling force; 
another the hope, another the practical tact— 
one supplies general principles, another the 
working plans. Men seldom unite by the strong 
points. It is men’s weaknesses that bind them 
together. By distributing gifts, God makes one 
man dependent upon another, and welds society 
together by making every man necessitous, in 
some place, as regards other men.— Beecher. 
MUTUAL FORBEARANCE. 
The house Avill be kept in turmoil Avhere 
there is no toleration of each other’s errors, no 
lenity shoAvn to failings, no meek submission to 
injuries, no soft answer to turn away wrath. If 
you lay a single stick of wood in the grate and 
apply fire to it, it will go out; put on another 
stick, and they will burn ; and half a dozen, and 
you will have a blaze. There are other fires 
subject to the same conditions. If one member 
of a family gets into a passion, and is let alone, 
he will cool down, and possibly be ashamed and 
repent. But oppose temper to temper; pile on 
the fuel; draw in others of the group, and let 
one harsh answer be folloAved by another, and 
there will soon be a blaze which will enwrap 
them all in its burning heat.— Selected. 
A. Source of Smiles.—D r. Franklin having 
noticed that a certain mechanic, Avho worked 
near his office, Avas always happy and smiling, 
ventured to ask him for the secret of his constant 
cheerfulness. “ No secret, Doctor,” he replied, 
“I have got one of the best wives, and when I 
go to Avork she always has a kind Avord of en¬ 
couragement for me ; and when I go home she 
meets me with a smile and a kiss, and the tea 
is sure to be ready ; and she has done so many 
little things through the day to please me, that 
I cannot find it in my heart to speak an unkind 
Avord to anybody.” 
-4..^- 
RED JACKET, THE INDIAN CHIEF. 
Try garb, though Austria’s hosom-stars Avould frighten 
That metal pale, as diamonds the dark mine, 
And George the Fourth wore in the dance at Brighton, 
A more becoming evening dress than thine ; 
Yet, ’tis a brave one, scorning wind and weather, 
And fitted for thy couch on field and flood, 
As Rob Roy’s tartan for the Highland heather, 
Or forest green, for England’s Robin Hood. 
Halleck. 
A Seasonable Metaphor. —A fine passage 
from Browning’s poems: 
Dearest, three months ago, 
When the mesmeriscr Snow, 
With his hand's first sweep 
Pul the earth to sleep, 
’Twas a time when the heart could show 
All — how was earth to know 
’Neath the mute hand’s to-and-fro. 
It is often difficult to determine whether an 
apparently open, sincere, and virtuous action is 
the result of probity or artfulness — the actor is 
probably to-day what lie Avas yesterday, or a 
Aveek or a year since ; the quality of a present 
act is to lie very much determined by tbe 
quality of its antecedents. 
-- 
Never let yourself be meanly betrayed into 
an admiration of a person of high rank, or for¬ 
tune, whom you would despise it he avccc your 
equal in station. None but fools and children 
are struck with tinsel. This is admirably 
exemplified by Addison in bis “ Character oi 
Henry Followpecr,” in the Spectator. 
Counsel me ; direct 111 c. Even Averc I as 
sensible as you are, 1 should not be able to dis¬ 
cover my own faults. The clearest eyes do not 
see the cheeks below nor the broAV above them. 
