....... M’t.M.C, M’t.’M ................. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
FEB. 9. 
fCato’ '|J ml-folio. 
MAIDEN’S FIRST LOVE. 
CONDUCTED BY AZIDE. 
THE FIRESIDE. 
When’ the snow-flakes softly rattle 
On the darkened window-pane. 
And the night winds moan and murmur 
In a wild and fitful strain— 
0, how welcome is the cheerful, 
Brightly burning, ruddy light, 
Glowing from the evening fireside, 
Glowing, sparkling, warm and bright! 
How the mellow beams are dancing 
On the ceiling, in the hall, 
E’en within the heart’s dark corners, 
With a gentle glance they fall. 
And in the clear and pleasant radiance, 
As in the waves of gold it plays, 
Melts the soul that’s filled with sadness, 
Lights the eye with radiant rays. 
Loved ones meet around the fireside, 
Through the dreary winter eve, 
Whilst the storm without is wildest, 
Tales of other days to weave. 
Songs that to the heart are dearest, 
Breathe upon the hallowed air, . 
Voices gay in mirth are mingled, 
“ Household words” are sweetest there. 
How the aged and*the weary 
Look back to the happy hearth, 
By whose merry light they sported, 
Ere they tasted aught but mirth. 
Though the glow has long been faded, 
Brighter than of yore it burns, 
When the spirit, worn with wandering, 
To that cherished vision turns. 
Human nature has no essence more pure—the 
world knows nothing more chaste,—heaven has 
endowed the mortal heart with no feeling more 
holy, than the nascent affection of a young vir¬ 
gin’s soul. The warmest language of the sunny 
South is too cold to shadow forth even a faint 
outline of that enthusiastic sentiment. And 
God has made the richest language poor in that 
same respect, because the depths of hearts that 
thrill with Love’s emotions, are too sacred for 
the common contemplation. The musical voice 
of Love stirs the source of the sweetest thought 
within the human breast, and steals into the 
most profound recesses of the soul, touching 
chords which never vibrated before, and calling 
into gentle companionship delicious hopes till 
then unknown. 
Yes—the light of a young maiden’s first love 
breaks dimly but beautifully upon her as the 
silver lustre of a star glimmers through a thickly 
woven bower; and the first blush that mantles 
her cheek, as she feels the primal influence, is 
faint and pure as that which a rose leaf might 
cast upon marble. But how rapidly does that 
light grow stronger, and that flush deeper— 
until the powerful effulgence of the one irradi¬ 
ates every corner of her heart, and the crimson 
glow of the other suffuses every feature of her 
countenance .—Mysteries of London. 
THE LOVE OF BEAUTY. 
CONTEMPT OF POPULARITY. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MY CHILDHOOD’S HOME. 
Ah ! well I recollect the spot 
Where the old house did stand, 
The garden filled with shrubs and flowers, 
Nursed by my mother’s hsnd. 
Every one who passes through the upper part I T has been said by a noble lord on my left 
of our city must have noticed the large, isolated hand, that I likewise am running the race of 
house at the corner of Ninetieth street and popularity. If the noble lord means by popu- 
Broadway. There is a large space of vacant larity that applause bestowed by aftertimes on 
ground around it, covered with a rich sward, good and virtuous actions, I have long been 
and here are always more or less beautiful do- struggling in that race, to what purpose all 
mesticated birds — peacocks, both white and of trying time can alone determine; but if the 
And there too was the babbling brook, 
That ever onward sped ; 
The old tree stump, around which bloomed, 
The roses white and red. 
the ordinary color, and birds of new and strange no ble lord means that mushroom popularity 
kinds to us. We have often stopped to admire that is raised without merit, and lost without a 
them, and never without a feeling of gratitude crime, he is much mistaken in his opinion. I 
and respect to the unknown dwellers there, defy the noble lord to point out a single action 
_— ± - ] . __i. j: _ i _ . .... 1 & 
The mossy banks where violets grew 
Beneath the tall pine tree, 
The forest where the sweet flowers bloomed 
And birds sang merrily. 
The old house there no longer stands, 
A new one fills its place— 
Among the household can be seen 
Not one familiar face. 
which we never felt towards those who display i„ my life, where the popularity of the times 
any extent of wealth on their houses and ever had the smallest influence on my determi- 
eqmpage. Useless, in an economical point of nations. I thank God I have a more permanent 
view, as these birds were, they testified to a and steady rule for my conduct —the dictates 
genuine love of beauty in those who —owned of m y own breast. Those that have foregone 
They are gone, all gone, we sigh in vain 
For friends we loved of yore, 
The voces so familiar then 
Alas, we hear no more. 
Livonia, N. Y. M. A. D. 
genuine love of beauty in those who — owned 
them, we were going to say, but ownership 
comes harshly into connection with beauty — 
placed them there, and cherish and maintain 
that pleasing adviser, and given up their minds 
to be the slaves of every popular impulse, I sin¬ 
cerely pity. I pity them still more, if their 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
MUSINGS IN MY WRITING-CHAIR. 
BY ONE OF THE SENIORS. 
No. 1. — Periodicals — Their Advantage*, «fcc., Ac. 
them for that value alone, a testimony which vanity leads them to mistake the shout of a mob 
produced an involuntary feeling of reverence for the trumpet of fame. Experience might in- 
for the occupants of the house. The yard is f orra them, that many, who have been saluted 
worth, to every living soul, all the marble and w ifL t,} ie huzzas of a crowd one day, have re¬ 
freestone house-fronts in New York city.— ceived their execrations the next; and many who 
Passing by there, a few days since, we were by the popularity of their times, have been held 
delighted to see a large number of common up as spo tless patriots, have, nevertheless ap- 
quails, which are generally supposed to be be- peare d upon the historian’s page, when truth 
yond the power of domestication ; but there has triumphed over delusion, the assassins of 
they were, running about in the grass like so liberty. Why, then, can the noble lord think 
many chickens, as beautiful as it is possible for that lam ambitious of present popularity,' that 
Then, while falling snow-flakes rattle 
On the darkened window-pane, 
Let us gather round the fireside, 
Heedless of the night-wind’s reign. 
And when life’s cold winter cometh, 
’Mid the darkness and the storm 
We’ll again in memory’s chamber 
Meet around the fireside warm. 
A SISTER’S LOVE ' ^HE ^ory of a nation/’ says Johnson * is its many chickens, as beautiful as it is possible for that I am ambitious of present popularity,' that 
_ ' authors. It is the diffusion of literature in birds to be, as naive and fearless as children.— relic of folly and shadow of renown I am at a 
There is something inexpressibly touching in S0Clet Y tliat ' estranges us from barbarism. If We wanted to climb the fence, and lie down in loss to determine .—Lord Mansfield. 
a sister’s love. Her heart is a realm of pure and WG Cann0t be wholly onglna1 ’ we s P rcad what the grass to pet them. . 
unearthly affections, and happy should that is . useful and entertaining ; and gather some They suggested some ideas with regard to the THE CRADLE AND ARM CHAIR, 
brother be to whom she clings through the or iginali 1 y. ^ ought ever to be considered by i n fl uence 0 f | ie auty on the human mind, which ,- 
THE CRADLE AND ARM CHAIR. 
changing scenes of the blighting world. She 
lias been his companion in childhood, she 
watched the development of his mind and per¬ 
son, she has admonished him when wrong, and 
those who have any literary spirit, a duty to we would like to see fully explained and illus- lvu “ OU8e 18 complete witnout two pieces of 
encourage every publication, the principles of trated by experience. Does not the love of ful Uiture-the cradle and the o’d arm chair.— 
which are not incompatible with the laws of beauty, suc]l as is raan if es ted by the dwellers No house is fuU tbat batb not in it a babe and a 
morality, but promotive of beneficial instruction i r . that house, give a power over even the ani- g randfafcber or a grandmother. Life becomes 
No house is complete without two pieces of 
smiled upon his triumphs-she has peopled his a » d innocent amusement. Would parents and ma i creation, which, in this case, lured and m °re radiant and perfect when its two extremes 
• _ w r ‘ fnfnro Vua /»ayu>fnl in nnfa -urn'll /wro/Jnstf/wl . . . . . IrP.P/n fl.lnno* Tenth if Tim f1___i_r 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GONE TO REST. 
mind with the beautiful treasures of her own Ultore bc careful to put a well conducted period- lulled the quails into tameness and domesticity? keep along Vlth lb Tlie two ^ves which 
she has taught him those virtues which will mai m the way of ingenuous youth, they would Is there not some influence emanating from ^ atcb the cradle and serve the chair are one. 
render him a useful member of society prepare find lfc lead to g , eat a « d ra P ld improvements in m inds that love the beautiful purely, which But how difterent m all their openings and ac- 
him for death and embalm his memory when the SG1GnCG ° f hfe and manners ’ witb tbe silences even the natural and instinctive timor- tl 0 n f‘ T ° tbe chlld the heart turns ™th more 
he has passed away. Sooner can you bind the P 0SSlble trouble to themselves. Novelty has ousness of wild birds and beasts ? Wc hope so tenderness of love. To the aged parent, love is 
free wind than seal up the springs of such mys- sufficient attractions for the young ; and such a _ nay , wc Mieve so. How much better were it b °™ e lipoa a3e / ies of ^verence. Through the 
BY E. FRANCES R. 
I KNOW she has gone to rest, and my heart free wind than seal up tlie springs of such mys- " -TA- i ---- — nay, we oeneve so. no _ _ 
should not murmur, yet in my loneliness I sigh terious affections. They will flow on and the llterary desert might bc made a matter of favor, tliat we c0lll(t draw li v i ng beauty around us, child you look forward—through the parent you 
for communion with the loved and lost one, not desert and cave cannot resist their progress._ which would give a higher relish to its enjoy- than to empanoply ourselves with the ori.aments ,°° iac wvau . In the child you see hopes, 
the lost, but the waiting one—the one gone be- And as sorrow and misfortune strip from life its mc,d ‘ of pride and mere money display ! We hope ■ 1 l °^ S ] *° C °™ e ’ ,laTe ambition, and a life yet to 
fore. And at twilight,’mid the flitting shadows charms and dreams, there is one recollection Amon S tbe various causes that have contrib- that those who placed th— . ba drawn forth in all its many-sided exneri- 
of that sad, sweet hour, I watch half expectant that will come like music to a brother’s heart_ lded t0 tbG £ C!1CKd delusion knowledge in the sightof them as much 
for her form—and list for the songs she used to that will thrill upon its darkened and troubled the P resent age ’ nolhlng seems to have becn of Crayon. 
child you look forward—through the parent you 
Then, as Longfellow says— 
“ With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes the messenger divine— 
Takes the vacant chair beside me ; 
Lays her gentle hand in mine.” 
“ And she sits and gazes at me 
With those deep and tender eyes”— 
more importance than the circulation of so many 
different periodical papers. A superficial ob¬ 
server will wonder at this opinion, when he 
considers what slender abilities are employed 
of pride and mere money display ! We hope UU 8con ’ e ’ iaTe ambition, and a life yet to 
that those who placed those birds there enjoy e ra wn oit m all its many-sided experi- 
the sightof them as much as we did .—New York G11GC3 ’ uoug i t ie sihei-bailed parent you 
Crayon behold the past, life done, its scenes enacted, 
LEAP YEAR-THE LADIES. 
till I forget that I’m alone— forget that the songs 
depths with a strange yet sweet melody and m0re im P ortance than tbe ci ™lation of so many ' —-^- its histories registered. If God calls you to fol- 
bring up scenes of home and childhood Ion o- d ^rent periodical papers. A superficial ob- LEAP YEAR-THE LADIES. low your child to the grave ere it has ceased to 
uaremembered. It is the recollections of a sis- serv ?’ this opinion, when he - b. a child, you Mn d it to Wen that God 
tor’s love considers what slender abilities are employed Leap year has come again, when, by long- rear it for you, saying, Take it, O, Father, too 
__ 4 0 _ in the compilation of some, what prejudice is established customs, ladies are privileged to soon snatched away, and keep it; and keep me 
DICKENS’ PICTURE OF WOMAN. displayed in the conduct of others, what factious “pop the question.” Crusty old bachelors go till the weariness of life is ended, and I go 
and despotic principles are disseminated thro’ about in terror, giving a wide birth to every too. 
The true woman, for whose ambition a bus- this medium, he will, probably, be surprised pretty girl they meet, and blessing Heaven for But when the parent goes, ripe in years, his 
DICKENS’ PICTURE OF WOMAN. 
which my older a ar fail to catch, but which echo hand’s love and her children’s adoration are sufii- that periodical papers should come in for such ike invention of hoops, which prevents the fair 
ever round the desolate chambers of my heart, . „ ~ „ - 0 - 
are but wails from a broken lyre. ’Tis sad to discipline of her household, and whose legisla- But where is the good that may not be per- creatures , for vteom coy swains have long tude, God be thanked that he hath so long lived, 
remember— but oh hoiv sweet. tlves exerclse themselves in making laws for her vert) . ( l to evil ? the ^blessing that may not be si g bed in vain, pluck up courage, and, by a few and so well ; and God be thanked that he hath 
Three years tear-dimmed and blotted, have nUrSC ’ ^hose intellect has field enough for heT abused ? Too great an indulgence in the pleas- S ontle hints, which are no longer unlady-like, now departed. Go, my mother, to thy rest, and 
circled away since they laid her to rest • I say ln conirm mion with her husband, and whose ures 0 f tlie table, ma\ prove as fatal as swal- bring the modest youths to the point. Manceu- he sure that I will follow hard after thee, and 
tlcv for I was away from the « homestead roof” beart a8ks n ° ° ther honors than llis lov e and lowing the most deleterious poison. vering mammas, thanking their stars that leap soon overtake thee.—//. Ward Beecher. 
Jl when I returned and greeted me note I'" , do “ «*«** » 11 A work eondueied on proper principle,, i, corae “ °" c ° t f "" r bu ‘ s “'f- 
when I gazc<l on tiro broken eirclo. and the not f “ d /° ' 0,lc • and **• calculated to do infinite servree, among those "““V , Cai , M ,°! e , r { W 1 ” k *» » AUTOGBAFHS OF GREAT MEN. 
, N , , , , - ,, j. i • no1 Qisclain to be beautiful, who believes in • u i • , , „ . , . fine harvest out of tlie bashful lovers, and hurrv - 
there—I dared not ask, for the vacant chair, n „ more especially who are incapable of thinking , . , , . , . •> tn n „„_ „ , . ,. . „ 
, , . . , . . the virtue of glossy hair and well fitting gowns r 1 , , , , , , their daughter “into society, that they may 1 here have been sales at auction in Boston 
silent harp, neglected flowers, and vine trailing , . J . , , , w s gowns, f or themselves, and who by habit acquire the , , ° “ ’ . . J •/ y ow y m .i. t 
, , i , & .. r .„ ,, . . and who eschews rents and raveled edges, slip- +• , , n , ,, . , take advantage of the blessed time. Even and iNew Yoik, within a few days, of autographs 
low, told but too well. Then the remaining , , , , , . , g ' sentiments that perpetually meet their eyes and . . . ° . . . . , nf nn • , , . s , , 
, ’ , , shod shoes and audacious make-ups; a woman • , , T ,, J papas, rubbing their hands m glee, reioice over ot distinguished men. 1 he jinces obtained did 
«loved ones told, m low, broken accents how one , , . , , i 1 ’ amuse their vacant hours. In the country, in \ 1 . & f , , nnt „v, nw TTin ,. Vo u o ... „ 
,, . . , who speaks low, and does not speak much- , ■ , ,, , the privileges of leap year, as they calculate the not btlow any marked appreciation ot these 
golden eve in “waning autumn” she fell asleep , . .. , , .. . . D ’ particular, how many thousands receive what 1 . f „ , . J , J T 1} . . , , 
° , , , J? , ,. . , who is patient and gentle, and intellectual and ,i i • n • ,. . annual cost of their daughters, and the cent, per memorlals ot greatness. In Boston a letter of 
cient, who applies her military instincts to the distinguished applause. 
But when the parent goes, ripe in years, his 
life bkfmeless, his fru't gathered and garnered. 
creatures seizing them vi et armis. Sweet little we give his form to earth, saying with grati- 
But where is the good that may not be per¬ 
verted to evil ? the blessing that may not be 
abused ? Too great indulgence in the pleas¬ 
ures of tlie table, may prove as fatal as swal- 
1 that may not be per- C 1 ' ea tures, for whom coy swains have long tude, God be thanked that lie hath so long lived, 
ssing that may not bc si S bed in yail D pluck up courage, and, by a few and so well ; and God be thanked that he hath 
gentle hints, which are no longer unlady-like, now departed. Go, my mother, to thy rest, and 
bring the modest youths to the point. Manceu- he sure that I will follow hard after thee, and 
soon overtake thee.— 11. Ward Beecher. 
A work conducted on proper principles, is 
calculated to do infinite service, among those 
vering mammas, thanking their stars that leap 
year comes once every four years, but secretly 
wishing also that it. came every year, look for a 
• i, i • ,, , * ‘ fine harvest out of the bashful lovers, and hurrv 
more especially who are incapable of thinking . ’ J 
r ,-i , i , i i , their daughter “ into society,’ that thev mav 
for themselves, and who bv habit acomre the ° _ . - J •? 
AUTOGRAPHS OF GREAT MEN. 
their daughter “ into society,” that they may d here have been sales at auction in Boston 
take advantage of the blessed time. Even and New York, within a few (l^ys, of autographs 
papas, rubbing their hands in glee, rejoice over distinguished men. The prices obtained did 
in sainted beauty. 0 , my bursting heart, be • , | iiixvy iuau in a> puixvjuiucii as uracuiar 
still, be still —I will not tell your anguish ; no, '\ US1 ,? 8 ’ ^ G o' moi e than she reasons, decisions, and to whom a knowledge of social or 
no, as if words, weak, human words could tell.— GS n ° °' G ln 7 ’ ^ 10 never scolds m0 ral duty could not otherwise be coramuni- 
Only gone to rest—gone from the clasp of loving n , ,1G ' cr aigucs, m at justs wn a smile ; C ated, as they too often neglect other means of 
arms-gone, gone, all save her memory. The 8 ^ b a is the wife we have all dreamed instruction . Hence the importance of papers 
W f ’ , ,, J , . of once m our lives, and is the mother we still n *. r , 
violet sod sinks lower each year,—the rank vine mn , . . ,, , . , .. T/, that preserve these grand objects in view — to 
. , woi snip in the backward distance of the nast M1 • , , „ . , r 
clambers the falling head-stone, — summer’s _ 1 illuminate and reform. And from the same 
who is patient and gentle, and intellectual and 
they read in a periodical publication as oracular 
still, be still —I will not tell your anguish ; no, , , , , , r , 
, 7 . J , 7 7 +11 and yet. does not love blindly; who never scolds 
no, as if words, weak, human words could tell.— ■ , . , , . . 
annual cost of their daughters, and the cent, per 
cent, they could make outof the money if saved. 
Andrew Jackson sold for $3,37; Gov. Simon 
Lucky leap year ! Propitious leap year ! Tlie Bradstreet’s signature to a deed, $11,25; the 
such a woman is the wife we have all dreamed 
of once in our lives, and is the mother we still 
worship in the backward distance of the past. 
instruction. Hence the importance of papers 
that preserve these grand objects in view — to 
illuminate and reform. And from the same 
means of ' nTeid:or tbe happy custom ought to have a 
,. ‘ ’ statue raised to him by the ladies. Or, if the 
>f papers . J ’ 
. , inventor was a woman — tor we doubt our sex 
autograph of Governor Hutchinson, $2 , Samuel 
Adams, $4,25; Elbridge Gerry, $1 ; letter of 
General Warren, written a month before liis 
sweetest songsters there carol, and autumn’s de¬ 
caying leaves fall in golden beauty over her of those, who poison the public mind by adula- 
quiet resting place. There lies the fragile and The love that survives the tomb, says Irving, tion and fl attery, slander and calumny, palliat- 
broken casket, falling to formless dust; but Acre is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If big the despotism of tyrants, and aggravating the 
deep, deep in my heart her memory—the one it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and Cldmes anarchists. Such scribblers endeavor 
dewed o’er liy the tear of heaven —the other by when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed ' x) lllddn S e the ties of moral order, and dissemi- 
LOVE FOB. THE DEAD. 
consideration may be seen the infamy and guilt C ° Up de “ “ ^ sbould honor her b ^ a lea I 
of those, who poison the public mind by adula- ^ ar festival, as the ancients honored Ceres !- 
tirvn n.nH flaltfirv. aland or and mlnmnv nalliiit- PhU elp id ccger. 
having sagacity enough for such a splendid de ath at Bunker Hill, $7,50 ; two letters of John 
coup de main — they should honor her by a leap Hancock, $3,12 each; a letter of John Jacob 
year festival, as the ancients honored Ceres !— Astor, $2,75. Autographs of the early Gover- 
Philadelphia Ledger. nors of Massachusetts brought from $1 to $3 
_ , # _ eoch. At the sale in New York, a letter of 
She has gone to rest, and loneliness 
Is creeping over all ; 
While the way seems lost in darkness 
Which fell from sorrow’s pall. 
STYLE IN WRITING. Washington on the affairs of South Carolina ins 
- 1790, sold for $11,25; a certificate of member- 
It is noticeable that poetic or musical prose is sb ^P °f the society of Cincinnati, signed by 
t a good augury for the poetry of the same Washington, $ 6 ; a signature of John C. Cal- 
mto tlie gentle tear of recollection, then the na ® °P uuons su ’'® 1S1VG G 1G Wc> icing o no t a g 00 d augury for the poetry of the same Washington, $ 6 ; a signature of John C. Cal- 
sudden anguish and convulsed agony over the CU1 lzCb society. ou t ic <iut ioi s ot sue i ail ^ bors Burns and Byron, Southey and Words- houn, $3,12; of Henry Clay, G 2 cents ; of Daniel 
present ruins of all that we most loved are soft- ’ 1C ’ <1 ians ’ y IU ' 1C1 lssmn b u o 11 a ' y <u occa- wortbj wr ote admirable prose ; but it was not Webster G 2 cents, and another for 25 cents ; a 
The gay throng round, and noble ones 
Who passed me on life’s way, 
Lend to song its richest tones, 
Breathing of beauty passed away. 
The way seems long, and dark, and lone, 
For tear-drops dim my sight; 
And the star that on my pathway shone 
Went out through the gates of light. 
Gone to rest; and the angel band 
That clusters round the throne, 
Have borne away to that fair land 
My beautiful—my own. 
ened away into pensive meditation on all that bu,n the piess, sit down and considei a j. a p rhythmic in its flow; while Wilson and hst, by Benjamin Franklin, of tbe directors of 
was in the day of its loveliness. Who would a calm attention, w at possible ill-effects Bulwer> the modern writers of distinction, who the Philadelphia Library, in 1732, $3,25 ; a 
toot sorrow from the heart, though it may some- ,Ha ^ iesu 10m t t U nc b cc ^ 0 01 aim most at music in their prose,—Dickens has history of steam engines and boats, signed by 
times throw a passing cloud over the bright hour t u J as men an ci lzeus, ley vou c snutei j lar( jj y attempted verse,—are but indifferent Robert Fulton and Robert R. Livingston, $ 7 ; 
of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the a,J tbe reflection - 
rhymers. Tlie poetic prose-writers—those who autographs of Madison $2,37, Van Buren 
hour of gloom ; yet who would exchange it for It is to be hoped, however, that much more have al i the element of poetry in their style Tyler $1,62, Polk 44 cents, Jackson $ 2 , Jeffer- 
e\ enthe song ol pleasure or the burst of rev- service is done by tlie aggiegate mass of period- except its measure — are a class by themselves. son $4,75, Aaron Burr $4, Benedict Arnold 
_o wr.. _ ■ _ • * __ i-i..;i _:_ j i r J _ 
I cry aloud in my agony, 
And ask the viewless air 
To render hack one gentle tone, 
To still my wild despair. 
In vain—in vain ; sad echo 
Comes hack unheard—alone ; 
While my heart in its night of sorrow 
Gropes blindly for its own. 
Gone to rest. I’ll not repine, 
But closer hold the hand 
Whose shadowy clasp is drawing mine 
Towards the “ Better Land.” 
elij ? No, there is a voice from the tomb icai publications, than evil is occasioned by They are not good prose-writers; we do not 
sweetei than song ; there is a remembrance of particular paits. Fliey commonly tend to con- read Taylor and Wilson for their style, as we do 
the dead to which we turn even from the charm vey instruction and generalize knowledge.— Barrow and Goldsmith. But they are admirable 
of the living. 1 hey communicate beneficial discoveries which writers, whose style is exquisitely adapted to 
v wi T n -v # xr would otherwise be lost; they record transac- their own ideas and genius. True prose must 
Faith— When lhilip Henry, father of the tions which engage admiration, or rivet disgust; no t want measure, and balance, and sweetness 
commentator on the Bible, sought the hand of they warn by example, and instruct by censure. f ort heear. But it ought not to have the cadence 
t ie on \ aug ter o is. Intthcw in mariiage, Ihey diffuse taste; they correct prevailing and regular pauses of verse, and the moment its 
an objection was made by her father, who ad- absurdities. They awe the proudest into con- ryt hm begins to give conscious pleasures, it is 
mitted that he was a gentleman, a scholar, and viction of keeping some terms of morality and running into excess, and will soon give con- 
an excellent preacher, but he was a stranger.— public good. They deter the most flagitious sc ious pain.- Rev. Dr. Bellows. 
“ True, said the daughter, who had well weigh- from crime, lest they should be held up to pub- _^ ^_ 
ed the excellent qualities aud graces of the lie detestation; and, in fine, they watch ever , Tr , , „ . , . „ 
stranger, “but I know where he is going, and individual and public liberty, which can never . E al ’ G ap ' t0 anCy WG j ave drank of ex P e - 
t _i 1 J rip.np.p. fliin n*rown wisp thp.rphv — wisp nvnn 
They are not good prose-writers ; we do not $4^5, George Brancroft 31 cents, Noah Webster 
read Taylor and Wilson for their style, as we do $1»87, Professor Silliman 17 cents, Br ntz Mayer 
Barrow and Goldsmith. But they are admirable 3 cents, John Van Buren 12 cents, Barnum 25 
writers, whose style is exquisitely adapted to cents, Robert Schuyler 12 cents. Neither Pierce 
their own ideas and genius. True prose must nor Caleb Cushing were in market. 
DANIEL WEBSTER’S COURTSHIP. 
rythm begins to give conscious pleasures, it is While on the subject of Mr. Webster’s his- 
running into excess, and will soon give con- ^ oiy ’} cannot forbear mentioning an incident 
scious pain.— Rev. Dr. Bellows. relating to his courtship, which I do not remem- 
__ber to have seen recorded. He was then a 
_ r , , ~ young lawyer in Portsmouth, N. H. At one of 
We are apt to fancy we have drank of expe- his visits to Mis s Grace Fletcher, he had, prob- 
O-o’ 111 U 1 V iUUlU C4.1AVI. UL KJ A Iv J.A. MVA UJ J HLIOU 11^ 1 H ^ • J • il, , l • - -- j - ^ - j ‘ w ^ 
I would like to go with him,”—and they walk- be violated with impunity while the press ’^ enco anc ^ Avlst c\en a bly with a view of combining utility and en¬ 
ed life’s pilgrimage together. remains pure and free. “ aboV f oar neighbors—when we have, instead, j oymen t, been holding skeins of silk thread for 
Jenny Lind.—“I will sing for the benefit of 
* ’ * Thus, to the philosophic eye, the periodical baie ^ pasted the cup,whidi is, thereafter, often her, when suddenly he stopped,saying, “ Grace, 
e may enjoy the present, while we are in- l a bors of characters undignified by literature, , G 1GtnG ec P Y U'a u ^ecauseo sun fancy. we ) iave thus been engaged in untying knots ; 
the poor here,” said Mad. Jenny Lind Gold- sensible of infirmity and decay; but the pres- appear callable of more beneficial consequences’ tinmbwe have acquired wisdom when m- 
smidt when in Vevay, a smalltown in Switzer- ent, like a note in music, is nothing but as it than the abilities of a Plato, a Socrates or a StGad WG have but learned that wlsdom 1S ne ‘ 
land. But before the day appointed for the appertains to what is past and what is to come. Johnson. May such feel the value of the rank cessai T capital an important outfit m life’s 
concert arrived, the nightingale became hoarse, There are no fields of amaranth on this side of they hold ; and never more disgrace it by pro- voyage 0 ventuie - D^narde. 
and could not sing. “ The poor cannot wait a the grave; there are no voices that are not soon paga ti n g vice or willful error, by giving a sane- -- 
day,” said the singer, and she sent them 2,000 mute, however tuneful; there is no name, with tion to the worthless,or by weakening the bands I should entertain a mean opinion of myself, 
francs. _ whatever emphasis of passionate love repeated, t hat keep mankind in peace and happiness. if a11 men ’ or the inost P art > praised and ad- 
. of which the echo is not faint at last.— Landor. Staten Island, 1856. c. n. b. mired me ; it would prove me to be somewhat 
tv t; uima wc rnivu uncu wisuu u, wjieil in- „„„ ;c _„ .• , , „ t • t 
1 ’ let us see it we can tie a knot, one whicli will 
stead we have but learned that wisdom is ne- not untie ior a lifetime.” He then took a piece 
cessary capital-an important outfit in life’s of tape, and after beginning a knot of a peculiar 
voyage of venture.-^. Bernarde. ^ kin d, gave it to her to complete. This was the 
' ceremony and ratification of their engagement. 
I snouLD entertain a mean opinion of myself. And now in a little box marked by him with 
if all men, or tlie most part, praised and ad- the words “ Precious Documents,” containing 
” j 4 '* • _ °f which the echo is not faint at last.— Landor. Staten Island, 1856. c. n. n. mired me ; it would prove me to be somewhat the letters of his early courtship, this unique 
Nobility and gent eness go hand in hand ; -- like them. Sad and sorrowful is it to stand memorial is to be found. The knot has never 
aud tvhen I see a young gentleman kind to his “The mother’s breath is a blessing to a What we truly and earnestly aspire to he, tliat near enough to people for them to see us wholly; been untied. 
motliei, and gentle and foibeaiing to his broth- house,” is said to be an Irish proverb. It is in some sense we are. The mere aspiration, by for them to come up to us and walk around us -- 
cis and sisters, I think he lias a noble heart. certainly a beautiful mode of expressing filial changing the frame of the mind, for tlie moment leisurely and idly, and pat us when they are A great man will neither trample on a wo- 
Selected. affection. Selected. realizes itself. tired and going off.— Landon. man, nor cringe before a king. 
