. ........... ...... : . ■ ■■ " .....— t| 
o, MOORE’S RUR.IL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. MARCH 15. j 
fatois’ ftet-ffllifl. 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE. _ 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MEL. 
BY BUNNY GRAVE. 
Where a silver streamlet wandered, 
Where brightly the sunlight fell, 
With a voice as soft as the silver stream 
Ami an eye as bl ight as the sunlight’s gleam, 
Was darling,beautiful Mel. 
Where roses and woodbine clamber’d, 
Her rustic cottage stood ; 
And when the sunset painted the west 
I often lingered there to rest, 
Just by the shadowy wood. 
White water-lilies rested 
In the lap of the silver stream ; . 
And though the waves went hurrying by, 
Yet still we lingered, Mel and I, 
And dreamed a beautiful dream. 
The years have passed like robbers, 
And wrought their ruin well; 
uut ne’er have they stolen so fair a prize 
As the soul that lighted the starry eyes 
Of artless, matchless Mel. 
And still in the summer twilight, 
I watch the golden west, 
And the buried hopes forsake their graves, 
And the years come forth from their robber-caves 
Like spiiits from their rest. 
And still in the solemn midnight 
The loves of old we tell; 
And while a blessed hope she brings, 
She guardeth me with her viewless wings, 
My angel, sainted Mel. 
Fairport, Feb. 15,1856. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EXCITEMENT. 
“I wonder who will be here this evening ! 
exclaimed Flora Acton as she stood before her 
dressing table—and turned herself about to take 
in the general effect of her toilette. “ I wonder 
if all those I likt best will present themselves— 
I feel in a particular mood for entertaining cer¬ 
tain ones—and if they do not chance to call I 
shall surely be most distrait to all others.” The 
beauty’s bright eyes flashed and her fair cheek 
flushed; she was unquestionably fine looking, 
of noble form and carriage, carrying a bead of su¬ 
perb hair, exquisitely arranged, with a queenly 
air. Nothing that external embellishment could 
do toward heighteningher beauty was neglected. 
She moreover bad the reputation of being an 
heiress, — was brilliant and piquant, and so 
fairly deserved the title she had gained of 
« belle of our circle this winter.” 
A most recherche apartment was this dressing 
room of hers, elegant and tasteful in its minu¬ 
test arrangement. Upon a lounge in front of the 
broad French window sat Ellen Carneil, an 
orphan cousin, who had been domesticated 
nearly a year in her uncle’s family, and was 
loved and treated as a daughter. Beside her 
was her cousin, Mary Burton, a visitor from a 
distant village. They were just finishing a 
dress for a poor child in whom they were all 
much interested. 
“What a life of excitement you city belles 
lead,” exclaimed Mary, “dressing, and shop¬ 
ping, and calling day after day. While the 
grand climax, the chief end of a day is the even¬ 
ing, with its parties and pleasures abroad, or 
calls at home. Even you, lively as you generally 
are, Flora, will be on the lounge all day with 
a headache from the excitements and late hours 
of a previous evening j but at the appioach ol 
nightfall brighten up and dress, and then you 
are brilliant till midnight again. The assem¬ 
blers in your drawing room would little dieant 
how philosophically you can lounge out a day, 
living upon anticipation.” 
“ Well, I can’t help it; I might as well own it 
at once. I can’t live without excitement ; I must 
have it. I fancy these headaches only come 
now and then when there is a dull day noth¬ 
ing especially to rouse one. If there could only 
be excitement all the time I should be “ bril¬ 
liant” all the time, as you are pleased to flatter 
me. But if Carlton Metcalf calls to-night 
what music you’ll hear 1 with his flute and my 
piano. Ah ! I must run down and practice till 
tea time; I shall astonish him to-night with 
something decidedly new and difficult ! I 
would advise you both, out of proper regard for 
the lustre of your optics, to put by your sewing. 
Miss Flora Acton only tolerates brilliantcs in 
her drawing room !” . and gaily she chassezd out 
of the room. 
“ Oh what a life to live,” exclaimed Mary— 
“so aimless, or at least, with aims so anything 
but expanding and elevating. If this were only 
an occasional—but such 1 take it is her eveiy- 
day life. I pray you, Ellen, do not bring Flora 
with you to Springdale next summer; Iwouldn t 
have her come for the world j I couldn t cntei- 
tain her. She would find nothing in our quiet 
country home in consonance with her taste ; she 
would feel no sympathy in our pursuits and 
pleasures. It seems to me so dreadful for an 
intellectual, immortal being to exist for these 
petty excitements only. What would Flora be 
in a less moneyed position ; of what use is she ?” 
“Flora gives pleasure to a large circle of 
friends. She does good wherever objects of 
usefulness are presented to her in a way to in¬ 
terest her mind. She has scarcely learned that 
any exist save those brought to her especial no¬ 
tice ; and so doesn’t turn aside to seek them.— 
She is the most unsophisticated creature, as 
regards the world beyond her own coterie, that 
I ever saw; but this is owing to the peculiar 
manner in which, she has been reared and edu¬ 
cated. Flora is loving, kind-hearted and intel¬ 
ligent for one reared to make only agreeable 
efforts. In some things she has decided talent, 
and has cultivated it; and she can be industri¬ 
ous enough, when occasion requires,—even our 
accustomed fingers did not equal hers in celer¬ 
ity when she became interested in poor Amy’s 
dress. 1 think Flora quite a prodigy ; she has 
been reared in indolent luxury by a weak 
mother who, although once obliged to exert her¬ 
self sometimes, hasn’t half the woman in her 
that her daughter has. She inheiits all her 
strength from her father, whose only weakness 
has been the giving up his daughter so e; tirely 
to such a mother’s care. The promptings of 
Flora’s own desires have been her governing 
principle. She takes life just as it has come to 
her—she hasn’t learned to look away from the 
fashion and frivolity around her to aught of 
higher interest or more worthy aspiration. But 
I think a new world is opening to her. She will 
be a different woman bye-and-bye. I would 
vouch for it that she will make a noble woman, 
if a little more of the right influence could be 
brought to bear upon ber while she is yet so 
young ; therefore, depend upon it I shall bring 
her to Springdale and keep her there as long as 
possible ! 
“You croak about excitement, Mary, in the 
old hackneyed tone. I think there is often as 
much to be found in the so-called quiet villages. 
Their young ladies are absorbed in the same 
sort of routine, only, of course, on a more hum¬ 
ble, limited scale. They revolve in a narrower 
circle; hence one would think they would be 
sooner cloyed. If their surrounding influences 
train them to the belief that enjoyment is the 
chief end of life, they follow it with all the earn¬ 
estness of the different grades of ardor and im¬ 
pulsiveness, of individual character, just as their 
city sisters do. If I were disposed to rive a 
butterfly chase after pleasure, fashion and dis¬ 
play, I should say, give me the wider field of 
the city where I might, even though it would 
seem just for fashion’s sake, revel in the works 
of art and beauty ini.be intellectual excitements 
that are gathered there in profusion. 
“The dissipations which you scorn, pertain 
not to city life only. Towns and villages and 
rural districts, in a measure own their sway. 
They but follow in the wake, it is true, and 
their excitements are less brilliant and striking 
to the on-looker, and figure not so largely in the 
annals of oral, report or printed journalisms.— 
But the village or town celebrities go just as 
near the extent of their opportunities. 
“ As for excitement, who lives without it ? 
Who acts day after day from the cool, oalm im¬ 
pulses of duty alone ‘l Duty is ibllowed truly, 
and its claims most nobly acted upon ; but is 
there not excitement in accomplishing its 
promptings ? Is there not excitement in the 
housewife’s spring-time house-cleaning ? in her 
fall arrangements ? in her busy summer duties 
and preparing for the future ? In her active 
efforts to fill her house with good cheer and 
make all about her satisfied and happy ? Ex¬ 
citement in meeting the wants and needs of the 
family promptly ? in having all home arrange¬ 
ments efficiently planned and energetically ful¬ 
filled ? Excitement in man’s out-door business 
life ; in forming great plans and in their execu¬ 
tion ; in being up to time and in season in all 
his undertakings ? Excitement in the scholar’s 
routine of study and deeper searchings after 
knowledge ? There’s excitement wherever 
there’s a something ahead t - be attained, a goal 
to be reached — anything to be accomplished ! 
Can we have ends and aims in view that do not 
excite us to action ? 
“ If excitement is one of the necessities of our 
nature, it will exhibit itself most strongly, 
whether wisely or illy directed, in those pos¬ 
sessed of strongest characteristics, ot some pe¬ 
culiarly large mental development. If their 
childhood rearing and early surrounding influ¬ 
ences are such as to give this bent a right and 
good direction, they will not be excited by sel¬ 
fish gratifications and ephemeral pleasures, but 
by aspirations more worthy of an undying mind. 
“‘Just as the twig is bent the trees incline,’ 
and as the mind and heart are trained will the 
individual be excited to good,—to a daily life of 
right and noble ends in view.” Elsie. 
Waukesha, Wis. 
PATERNAL DUTY. 
The father who plunges into business so 
deeply that he has no leisure for domestic 
duties and pleasures, and whose only intercourse 
with his children consists in a brief word of 
authority, or a surly lamentation over their in¬ 
tolerable expensiveness, is equally to be pitied 
and to be blamed. What right has he to devote 
to other pursuits the time which God has allot¬ 
ted to his children? Nor is it any excuse to 
say that he cannot support his family in their 
present style of living without this effort. I 
I ask, by what right can his family demand to 
live in a manner which requires him to neglect 
his most solemn and important duties ? Nor is 
it an excuse to say that he wishes to leave them 
a competence. Is he under obligation to leave 
them that competence which he desires ? Is it 
an advantage to them to be relieved from the 
necessity of labor ? Besides, is money the only 
desirable bequest that a father can leave to his 
children ? Surely well cultivated intellects, 
hearts sensible to domestic affection ; the love 
of parents, and brethren, and sisters ; a taste for 
home pleasures; habits of order, regularity, and 
industry ; a hatred of vice and vicious men ; 
and a lively sensibility to the' excellence of 
v i r t ue — are as valuable a legacy as an inheri¬ 
tance of property—simple property, purchased 
by the loss of every habit which could render 
that property a blessing.— Wayland. 
Human affections are the leaves, the foliage of 
our being—they catch every breath, and in the 
burden and heat of the day make music and 
motion in a sultry world. Stripped of that fol¬ 
iage, how unsightly is human nature. 
Slj0ice Jpgcrtlainj;. 
mind may think itself independent of God.— KINDNESS TO PARENTS. 
Milton, though possessing vast conceptive pow- „ ~ T v , 
. ’. . b . , J A ,, Tiie following, which we clip from an ex- 
ers of mind, seeks m childlike confidence the f e r . „ m 
, . . „ ’ , . change, is well worthy of a perusal. How 
help of God. Greatness never appears so great, & , J . A , 
t , ...... m t many children there are who, after they go out 
as when an humble suppliant at the Throne of ,, „ , , A fnllra ... 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. as W uen ail jjluiu ui.e; ouuuu»uu .uiuuv v,* , , - ,, i i / li , i .> 
11 . . »■, , into the world, “ forget the old folks at home: 
MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCES. Grace. Genius never appears so beautiful and ■ X a u io t i 
_ . 1 T t “ Mother, how is the flour barrel? ah! getting 
“There is a mysterious feeling that frequently passes gloiious as w ien see 'ing e li e loin crmii , i ow> » a finely-built man, as he paused for 
like a cloud over the spirit. It comes upon the soul in the as with the pen of inspiration he desen res the moment be f ore leaving the house where his 
busy bustle oflife, in the social circle,and in the calm and waT in Heaven raised by lum who durst defy headed parents live d ; “I must send you 
silent retreats of solitude. Its powers are alike supreme Omnipotence. Satan s expulsion from the Heav- b J 1 , , , T 0 , J A 
over and the iron-hearted. Sk.MS , Ms ]aoo ' of torment lo wWdl ‘°™ 1 ° f »"?* 
and who has not felt its influence.” 7 , . , . 0 „„ DVO +l,o FnrfbW Pom. J mt f or V ou to tr V- Upon my word it makes 
From whence those secret, hidden messengers peace an ics aie s k 0 ‘ 7 ‘ the nicest and sweetest biscuits that I have ever 
That come, on »oM„. pinto... to th. ..«l, 4bfc ft. Creation of Man Ills Temptation and (a8ted _ and s0> j 
And touch With viewless hand emotion’s fount, Fall, are made to pass before us in this Toem in AnJ ^ nexl (] came the barrel of flour, 
In festive hour ofgayety and mirth, such vivid coloring and clothed in the drapery , , rpl .. „ ., . r 
When joy’s quick pulse is throbbing wild and free, 0 f language beautifully expressive and sublime, ,u ' no ^ <>n . , “ ,., ? ’ • ' ^ , 
As well as when life’s current calmly flows, , f b t7 j ■ . coffee and tea, and a dozen little niceties, and 
And thought doth sit upon the clouded brow r t seems m01 c 1 e a esC1 ^ 1 n ^ v , n - v a n f or the old folks to try. That man knew the 
anuels who witnessed the scene. In strains ot .. , __ TJ - . 1 ,- 
In palace and in cot, on the free hills . . . . Q!v,r»o iVio I ifo nnfl <3nf- va ^ ue Lnd paients. He vas a son to be 
And in the dungeon’s damp and gloomy vault, touching cloquen ,i . v j < proud of. Were any repairs to be done, he 
With influence resistless, uncontrolled, ferings of Him by whom Paradise may become found i( . out almost intuitively ; and he nevei 
Unseen they come, nor time nor place regard. the abode of man. With such themes, and with tllem with his hands empty.- 
Swift at their bidding doth the tide rush forth, ^ genius we may well look for a massive . 1 
Sweeping away its long-accustomed bounds, , S „ ' J Something that «mother loved or “would 
stern manhood all unnerves, and overflows stiucture av it g< ’ make father think of old times," invariably 
The heart with wave of sadness—sadness sweet ! The time a-iincs wien is usian . oc f oun( j its wav into their pantry. And he act- 
The bosom swells, and teardrops fill the eye, enters, we trust, the regained Paradise Upon ^ seem ed to like nothing so well as to leave 
But who wo-d l Wish them gone! wo’d wish to check none ha3 his mantle fallen. “ For such times ^ . absence some token of his fondness and 
The gushing flow, or change for frenzied mirth firm malrpQ cmrh mpri ” This Great Llffllt Still , , . . . 
Those rapturous feelings clothed in sorrow’s garb. . ’ . . T i ur respect for those who had worn their lives oul 
1 burns in Heaven. His work is immortal. He L. 
Oh! are not these sweet silent messengers, still speaks, and will speak in imperishable ® S ' ,, . , , 
That o’er the heart exert mysterious power, ‘ . 1 ,, t, ,, f But how many leave their parents desolate 
Shades of departed friends? From spirit-land, vcisc, v ue icie isi one o mourn ie a and in need, or give them a place by tbeii 
To guide our wandering, wayward steps, they come Man, or, to seek redemption in mans REAT fireside ^herethey fire expected to delve ant 
To win us back from folly’s dangerous way, Restorer. J. EMORY I1YDE. T • i , ,, 
And in these tender, thrilling moments, show Middlesex N . y. WOrk 0ut lhe ^ligation. Is it any wonder thal 
How vain, how false are all the joys of earth, ’_ 0 t _such, conscious that they are. in the way, grov 
Raising our thoughts to heaven, their blissful home. [Translated frora the German for th c Rural.] querulous and fretful, and die, perhaps, unre. 
West Bloomfield, N J. H. Hall. _ . _ uretted ? Others are ashamed of their hones 
The following, which we clip from an ex¬ 
change, is well worthy of a perusal. How 
Genius never appears so beautiful and 
a moment before leaving the house where his 
grey-headed parents lived ; “I must send you 
umnipoience. oa.au — ‘ some j have lately bought of thc No. 9 brand, 
enly Parad.se, h» place of torment to which * Upon my word it makes 
peaee and rest are strangers, tl,e Earthly Para- J sweetest bisceits that I havecrer 
dise, thc Creation of Man h.s Temptat.on and j tUnt ... 
Fall, are made to pass before us in this Toem in 
such vivid coloring and clothed in the drapery 
And the next day came the barrel of flour, 
but not alone. There was a good supply of 
- . .... OUL noL aiune. uieie wets u. guuu ouppy w 
of language beautifully expressive and sublime, ^ ^ d & ^ mtle niceties , and 
that it seems more like * description given by ^ ^ ^ ^ folkg fo t That man knew the 
angels who witnessed the scene. In strains of Qf kind ^ Ile wa8 a son to be 
touching eloquence,he sings of the Life and Suf- d Qf Wefe a repair8 to be done , ho 
ferings of Him by whom Paradise may become ^ ^ ^ a]most intuitive i y . an d he never 
the abode of man. YV ith such themes, and with cal]ed thcm with his hands empty.- 
suck a genius we may well look for a massive gometbing tbat « mother loved” or “would 
structure a woild of giandem. make father think of old times," invariably 
The time arrives when this Christian Poet found itg into thcir pantr y. And he act- 
enters, we tiust, the regaine aracise. P°n ua py seemed to like nothing so well as to leave 
none has his mant e la en. 01 Sl ‘ c 1 irne ^ in their absence some token of his fondness and 
God makes such men. This Great Light still ^ for tboge who had worn their lives out 
burns in Heaven. His work is immortal. He . f ._,. 
still speaks, and will speak in imperishable 
in serving him. 
But how many leave their parents desolate 
verse, while there is one to mourn the Tall of ^ in m . |vc them a . , ^ 
Man, or, to seek redempfon .» man . .Great flrcside where tLe " are e l0 s „ d 
Restorer. J. Emory Hyde. i _^ 
[Translated from the German for the Rural.] 
A FABLE. 
For Moore s Rural New-Yorker. 
MILTON. 
. work out the obligation. Is it any wonder that 
Middlesex, N. Y. . ® , 
__ such, conscious that they are. in the way, grow 
[Translated from the German for the Rural.] querulous and fretful, and die, perhaps, unre- 
A FABLE gretted ? Others are ashamed of their honest 
__ old parents—shame on them —and keep them in 
A piece of gold lay on a forge by the side of some by-place,, giving them a small pittance 
piece of iron which the blacksmith was dili- upon which they can barely subsist, 
mtly hammering. And the gold turned with Sweeter praise can never be than that of a 
e following question to his neighbor: dying parent, as he blesses the hand that led 
« Whv dost thou wail and scream so loud ?” him from sorrow to sorrow, and is even now 
a piece of iron which the blacksmith was dili- upon which they can barely subsist. 
In the natural world there are many hills, but gently hammering. And the gold turned with Sweeter praise can never be than that of a 
comparatively few mountains. So in the poeti- the following question to his neighbor : dying parent, as he blesses the hand that led 
cal world there are many who have some emi- “ Why dost thou wail and scream so loud ?” him from sorrow to sorrow, and is even now 
nencc but few who stand as the towering “Seest thou not,” replied the iron, “how the smoothing the cold brow, damp with the spray 
monuments of poetical genius. Europe hasher iron hammer of the blacksmith is dealing out of Jordan. And dear the thought as your tears 
hills in almost countless numbers, but one group heavy blows upon me ?” fall upon the sod that covers the grey-headed 
of Alpine mountains is enough for all Europe, if “But I also,” rejoined the bright yellow metal, father, that you were very kind and loving to 
not for the world. Others may be grand, but 
these are the very thrones of grandeur. Every 
“receive as many blows as thou dost from the him ; that you gave cheerfully of your abun- 
huge hammer, and yet I do not groan and dance, and never caused him to feel that you 
age may have its Poets, but not every age is able scream so loud as thou ; but I do patiently en- were doing a charity. 
to generate one of these Sons of Poetry, whose dure them.” 
son“ can never die. Europe has had three or “Ah, yes 
four of this order, and, though years have sepa- 
lure them.” Never can we repay those ministering angels 
“ Ah, yes, replied the sterner metal, “ what we call father and mother. Angels, though 
eason hast thou to moan and wail, since he that earthly have they ever been, from the time that 
the same group. In tnem genius is enmioneo, ^ —, — *“ T 7 , ~ ” . . . . 
_ tbe y were giants whose imagination was on me, and therefore do I sigh and cry aloud, teuous to them. 
peerless. Among this group we'find Milton. Were he a stranger, I should bear his blows _ — 
peerless. Among this group we nna milton. vv ore no <«, 
If not equal to Homer and Shaksreare, he was without a gioan.” 
not far below. 
Living at a period in which English Poetry hlila 
made some of its proudest triumphs, it speaks p 
well for his genius that his work was the crown- ' 
PLEASANT ROOMS. 
There should be a correspondence in the fur¬ 
niture of a room. People who have never 
WASHINGTON’S FLOURISH. 
The only instance we ever met with where 
General Washington deliberately tried to “ cut 
a flourish,” is related by a writer in the N. Y. 
Times, who, in rummaging over an old chest in 
w nil 1 f UHUIU Ui cl 1UU1U. J. v - 
ing glory of the 16th century. 1 hough a rue b ht f tM would be surprised at the beau- the Harper’s establishment, found what he thus 
c _nui i trnnrp thp. nrorrereri => 1 ... 
son of genius, he did not ignore the proffered 
aid of a liberal education, nor did he fail of see- 
tiful effect of harmony in color that can he se- 
describes : 
aid ot a lioeraL euuoauuu,.«» — ^ — cured by proper attention. They are pleased, A rusty sheet of foolscap, of orthodox size and 
ing the necessity of gathering materials with but th do not know wby tbey are pleased. I ragged on the edge, is an autograph letter of 
which to furnishliiscicatitc a.icj. ll i^iea we jj j-ecollect the impression made upon my Washington, addressed to Gov. George Clinton, 
industry he acquired G ese, yet who but - Lilton ycars a „ 0 by a s i nip l e parlor furnished in under date of March 27, 1783. It announces to 
(vtotavinlc P.l’PCt SUCH ZL BOGLl- J ° * / . . 1 . 1 . xi ... a.\ .7...*_^ J7.* 71. mi 
out of such materials, could erect such a poeti 
the most economical style. The wood-work the Governor the conclusion of the Peace. The 
cal structure as the “Paradise Lost. He was ^ painted cream color / Tbe pape r was of a signature stands out from the paper as freshly 
possessed with ambition, but it was not for pre- gma]1 figure> buff and wb ite. There was a sofa as if it were written, not seventy years ago, but 
ferments in the Church, nor for a place in the intberoom The chairs had mahogany-colored yesterday—“ Go. Washington.” The letter is 
State, nor did it lead him in the pursuit of frameg and cane seats _ There were various, only of a dozen lines; it announces the fact that 
wealth. His was another calling. His mind 
was formed for another purpose. His soul 
thirsted for an immortality of literary fame. As 
the dawning light of a summer’s morning fore- 
smaller seats made of soap-boxes and shoe-box¬ 
es, covered with brown and buff striped furni¬ 
ture calico. The effect was exceedingly pleas¬ 
ing. “ What a pretty room this is,” was the 
peace between the United States and Great 
Britain has been concluded—“on which glorious 
event,” Washington writes : 
“ Permit me to congratulate you with the 
NO THMJ3 TO READ. 
Tiie idea about the want of time is a mere 
phantom. Franklin found time in the midst of 
all his labors to dive into the hidden recess of 
all his philosophy, and explore the untrodden 
path of science. The great Frederick, with an 
of his kingdom, found time to revel in the 
charms of philosophy and intellectual pleas¬ 
ures. Bonaparte, with all Europe at his dispo¬ 
sal, with kings in his ante-chamber begging for 
vacant thrones, with thousands of men whose 
destinies were suspended by the brittle thread 
warns us that the sun will soon arise to cheer exclamation of almost every visitor. There greatest sincerity.” 
and beautify Nature, so the first production ol ^ bu( . twQ colors in tbe rooni; although there The subscriptions must not be passed by.— 
Milton’s poetical genius showed that a great yarioug sbades of tbem> brown and buff. In the lower left-hand corner, in Washington’s 
luminary was about to rise upon the Literary These afforded au agreeable contrast, and har- hand-writing, in immense letters, is the word 
world, which would give new life and vigor. monized admirably together. Peace. The General added a flourish of thc 
The child of genius loves Nature. He de- Another room has often pleased me, where quill underneath, which we quite despair of 
lights to hold communion with the spirit of the tkie fuiniture is all bird’s eye maple. Instead representing by any possible arrangement of 
beautiful and grand that reigns in Natuie. lie a s ^ u fp ed g 0 f a , there is a cane-seated one, P inting types. He was overjoyed, the frank 
also loves the fields of classic lore, where he g j m jjar to the chairs. A hair cloth sofa may be reads “ On Public Service, 
comes in contact with thoughts that bieathe com foi-table, but where it affords a violent con- — 
made tangible by the almost divine language ol ^ rast to cba irs and tables, it is not so pretty as N0 aI - I - B TO *“ EAp . 
Greece. That this might be accomplished more somet hing more simple. Damask and plush I The idea about the want of time is a mere 
readily, Milton retires from the University, and do not consider at all desirable in most country pbantom . Pranklin found time in the midst of 
pursues, with increasing ardor, lus favorite task. houges> Where there are curtains, they should all his laborg to dive i nto the hidden recess of 
In this retirement, those Dramas are composed, be of a color which either corresponds with, or all big philosophy, and explore the untrodden 
which, unlike many of these writings, contain contrasts well with the carpet and paper. tb of sc i cn ce. The great Frederick, with an 
beautiful imagery combined with noble senti- Furniture should not be stationed in a row ire at bis direction, in tbe midst of war, on 
ment. As the fires of his genius increase he against the wall as if drawn up in military or- tbe eye of battle8 which were to decide thc fate 
desires to converse with the works of Dalian der> but should be placed where they would of big kingdoin> found time to revel in the 
art. The sunny sky, the balmy air, and the most naturally and sociably be used. No par- cbarms of philosophy and intellectual pleas- 
beautiful scenery of Italy, may act favorably ticular directions can be given about these ures Bonaparte, with all Europe at his dispo- 
upon Poets. At any rate Milton leaves his na- lbing8; f or eac h individual’s taste must preside sal> with kings in his ante-chamber begging for 
tive land that he might visit this favored resort, in ber 0 w n house ; but hints we often find to be yaaant tb roiies, with thousands of men whose 
where other Poets had lived and sung. of value to us .—American Agriculturist. destinies were suspended by the brittle thread 
It is true of really great men, that theirs has -^- of bis arb it ra ry pleasure, had time to converse 
been no easy path to renown. Difficulties have To Different Eyes.— Have you never ob- witb bookg Cscfiar> when he had curbed the 
been in the way, and misfortunes have overta- sei . ved that, among the ignorant in painting, q{ tbg RomaQ people> and was thronged 
ken them. But m meeting these, the giant dark pictures are usually called the finest in the with visitors from the remotest kingdoms, found 
mind displays its greatness. Our Poet was collection, and grey-bearded heads, fit only for time for intellec tual conversation. Every man 
called to struggle with misfortune, that would tbe garret, are preferred to the radiance of light bag timg . if be ig carefal to improV e it as well 
have crushed some minds. and beauty ? Have you, yourself, never thought, ag b(j mi ’ bfc> be can reap a three-fold reward.— 
Blindness fast comes upon him until the before you could well measure and calculate, Let mecbanics make use 0 f the hours at their 
pleasant sunlight, and the glorious world of N a- tbat books and furniture thrown about a room, di ak if tbey want to obtain a proper influ- 
ture are forever concealed from his sight. This appeared to be in much greater quantities than ^ in s ' oc i et . y . They can, if they please, hold 
affliction, severe as it was, did not subdue his when they were arranged? At every step we . q tbair ban(Jg tbe des tinies of our Republic. 
thirst for literary pursuits. Hitherto he had well i 0 g a [ n the approbation of the wise, we lose _ # ^ _ 
improved his time, and now, as the world was somcihing in the estimation of the vidgar. Look men of America. 
no longer visible, his memory unfolded those within : cannot we afford it ?— Landor. 
scenes that had most attracted his attention, and-- The greatest man, “ take him all in all,” of 
which were to form a part of that great work To Imitators.—I esteem all the wise ; but I the last hundred years, was George Y ash in g- 
destined to enroll him high upon the lists of entertain no wish to imitate all of them in every- ton—an American. The greatest Doctor of Di- 
Fame. As he was now without sight, the facul- thing. What was convenient and befitting in vinity was Jonathan Edwards—an American, 
ties of his mind seemed to become more active 0 ne or other of them, might be inconvenient The greatest Philosopher was Benjamin Erank- 
and his imagination was left more free to soar and unbefitting in me. Great names ought to lin—an American. The greatest of living Sculp- 
into a world of its own creation. Bear us up and carry us through, but never to tors is Hiram Powers—an American. 1 he 
The Fall of Man was a subject that had long run away with us. greatest living Historian is W. H Prescott—an 
absorbed his attention, and which opened an -—- , i The greatest Ornithologist was J. J. 
ample field for the display of his admirable To tell our own secrets is generally folly, but Audubon-an American. The greatest Lexi- 
ejenius In the commencement of the Poems, that folly is without guilt. To communicate cographer since the time of Johnson was Noah 
he invokes the aid of that spirit who, from the those with which we are entrusted, is always Webster—an American, t he greatest inven- 
lirst was present, “ That he might to men make treachery, and treachery for the most part com- tors of modern times, were F ulton, Fitch, Whit- 
■* ’ * of his arbitrary pleasure, bad time to converse 
To Different Eyes.— Have you never ob- witb bookg C . csar , when he had curbed the 
ence in society. They can, if they please, hold 
in their hands thc destinies of our Republic. 
MEN OF AMERICA. 
Tiie greatest man, “ take him all in all,” of 
the last hundred years, was George Washing- 
first was present, “ That he might to men make treacnery, anu ue. 
plain the ways of God.” The narrow, groveling ' bined with folly. 
ney and Morse—all Americans. 
1 .............. - ... ■ .....^ 
