JUNE 21. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
'initatar* 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE BOY’S COMPLAINT. 
[Spoken at an Exhibition by Master Johnny Lloyd ] 
“ Oh, never mind ! they’re only boys ;” 
’Tis thus the people say, 
And they hustle us, and jostle us, 
And drive us out the way. 
They never give us half our rights, 
I know that this is so ; 
Aint I a boy ? and cant 1 see 
The way that these things go : 
The little girls are petted all, 
Called “ honey,” “ dear” and “ sweet;” 
But boys are cuffed at home and school 
And knocked about the street. 
My sister has her rags and dolls 
Strewn all about the floor, 
While old dog Growler dare not put 
His nose inside the door. 
And if I go upon the porch 
In hopes to have a play, 
Some one calls out, “ Hallo, young chap 1 
Take that noisy dog away ! 
My hoop is used to build a fire, 
My ball is thrown aside ; 
And mother let the baby have 
My top, because it cried. 
If company should come at night, 
The boys cant sit up late ; 
And if they come to dinner then, 
’Tis the boys that have to wait. 
If anything is raw or burned 
It falls to us no doubt; 
And if the cake or pudding's short 
We have to go without. 
If there are fireworks, we cant get 
A place to see at all; 
And when the soldiers come along 
We’re crowded to the wall. 
And when we spend our only dime 
For a show or other sight, 
We're driven to a corner where 
We cannot see a mite. 
Whoever wants an errand done 
We always have to scud ; 
Whoever wants the sidewalk, we 
Are crowded in the mud. 
’Tis hurry-scurry, here and there, 
Without a moment’s rest, 
And we never get a “ Thank ye,” if 
We do our very best. 
But never mind, boys—we will be 
The grown men by-and-by ; 
Then I suppose ’twill be our turn 
To snub the smaller fry. 
Petersburg, Ky. s. w. l. 
NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
VISIT YOUR SCHOOLS. 
YYe hear much talk these days, among parents 
of every school district, relative to a decline of 
interest in our Common Schools ; and all seem 
inclined to censure and blame teachers, school 
laws, ifec., without appearing to think that a 
little effort on their own part, would perhaps 
do as much towards renewing an interest in 
schools, as any change of law or system that 
can be mentioned. 
I refer to frequent visiting of schools by 
parents. In many districts, parents judge 
entirely of the nature of their school by the 
reports brought home to them by their children. 
A teacher may inflict a necessary chastisement 
upon a vicious scholar, and by so doing offend 
him so as to produce an effort on his part to in¬ 
jure the reputation of the teacher and his school. 
The parent, having never visited the school, 
and being ignorant of its character, falls in with 
the scholar, perhaps without attempting to in¬ 
vestigate the affair, and uses his influence 
among his neighbors in trying to break up the 
school. The neighbors have none of them been 
into it themselves, and really know nothing 
about it. Therefore they are ready to listen to 
almost anything that may be said against the 
teacher. Each time the story is told it is 
slightly exaggerated, and goes the rounds until 
the whole district becomes dissatisfied with the 
school, when in fact the teacher has only done 
his duty. 
If two or three of those who send to school 
had been in each week, they would have been 
prepared to judge for themselves, whether to 
criminate the teacher or the scholar. I know 
nothing better calculated to stimulate the 
scholar and encourage the teacher, than the 
frequent presence of those who send to school. 
Let scholars expect a parent,' or any other 
member of the district, and a good effect is at 
once visible, as they are convinced that their 
welfare and improvement is regarded by their 
parents in, as well as out of, school; and that 
they are not sent merely for the purpose of 
being kept out of the way. 
I know of many districts that have schools 
eight or ten months in the year, and not one of 
those interested in them, will see the inside of 
the school house, except at school meeting, 
which perhaps many of them will not attend 
oftener than once in four or five years. Yet 
they all complain of a want of interest in then- 
schools. Why will we not wake up to this 
matter a little, and try to effect a reform our¬ 
selves, rather than to be continually harping 
upon the insufficiency of the school laws, the 
incompetency of teachers, and a thousand other 
things ? 
Let the teacher have a list of the names in 
the district, and give notice in school that such 
and such ones are expected to visit the school 
during the week, and let those whose names 
are mentioned never fail of making^ their ap¬ 
pearance; except in cases of absolute necessity, 
(it will require but little time on the part of 
each one,) and my candid opinion is, we shall 
have more interest manifested in our schools, 
both on the part of teacher and scholar; and 
consequently our children will be benefited by 
it, with but very little extra expense. 
Darien, N. Y. H. F. C. 
The School Committee of Gracetown appoint 
Mr. Septimus Clinker to the principalship of 
their High School. The school is liberally fur¬ 
nished with philosophical apparatus, which Mr. 
Clinker, being a graduate and a fine scholar, is 
supposed to know how to use to the best possi¬ 
ble advantage. Indeed, so he himself supposes, 
although he has never had the first hour’s expe¬ 
rience in practical mechanics or philosophical 
manipulation. 
He attempts to illustrate, before his class in 
philosophy, the mechanical properties of air; 
but vents too freely his upward pressure cylin¬ 
der, which causes the suspended fifty-six to de¬ 
scend violently on the table, upsetting and 
breaking a tall bell glass on one side, and caus¬ 
ing the brass plate attached to the connecting 
hose to make, at the same time, a ruinous fall 
among the glass ware upon the other. The 
equal descent of light and heavy bodies in a 
vacuum, is illustrated by screwing a tall “Guinea 
and Feather” tube to the center hole of the 
pump plate, with such force as to wrench off the 
screw of the stop-cock. The expansive force 
of air is shown by bursting a thin and tightly 
sealed glass bottle beneath an exhausted re¬ 
ceiver, and then leaving the plate of the ^ir 
pump imperfectly wiped, and ready for receiv¬ 
ing serious scratches from the small fragments 
of glass, whenever the next receiver shall be 
placed upon it. All the various experiments 
requiring the use of mercury and acids are at¬ 
tempted, and result in the air pumps being 
thoroughly drugged by mercury within, and 
spotted by acids without. The operation of the 
lifting and force pumps is beautifully shown 
by a solution of blue vitriol happening to be at 
hand. And the result is, that the instruments, 
after one or two exhibitions, are packed away 
in some dark corner to complete a speedy and 
premature ruin. 
The illustrations in Electricity are next at¬ 
tempted. Here Mr. Clinker hopes to win some 
laurels. He places a smart boy at the crank of 
the electric machine, requests the class to 'join 
hands, charges a Leyden jar, and places it in 
the grasp of a timid juvenile. The result is, 
that the class receive a shock, and the jar is up¬ 
set and broken. Mr. C. next attempts to illus¬ 
trate, by means of his thunder house, the utility 
of the lightning rod ; and for want of a proper 
communication between the inner and outer 
coatings of the jar, fails in the experiment, and 
receives himself a painful yet ridiculous shock. 
Thus he proceeds with a series of expensive 
blunders, until the electric apparatus is con¬ 
signed to similar quarters and in a similar con¬ 
dition with the pneumatic set. Galvanism and 
Electro-Magnetism are passed, Mr. C.’s experi¬ 
ence in illustrating previous subjects deterring 
him from further, attempts at experimenting, 
especially where water and acids are requisite. 
How with such an experience as we have de¬ 
scribed, Mr. Clinker comes to feel a dislike for 
experimental philosophy, bordering even on 
disgust; and the science is “ so hard and so 
dry,” that every member of the class votes it a 
nuisance. The instruments, too, are pronounced 
defective in construction, and the manufacturer 
roundly censured for not making them of such 
materials as to resist the action of mercury and 
acids .—Massachusetts Teacher. 
THE 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
LIVING AND THE DEAD. 
The last Census of the United States has been 
the means of gathering a large amount of val¬ 
uable information, which should not be allowed 
to get smothered in Congressional documents. 
Hot the least instructing may be found the 
statistics of Mortality which have been thus 
gathered. It is no slight thing to contemplate 
the total yearly deaths of a nation embracing 
nearly or quite twenty-seven millions of human 
beings, as ours does now. It would indeed be 
a sad sight could we stand at such a point, were 
it possible, as to see the vast funeral procession 
pass along. 
The whole number of deaths during the year 
1850 was 323,023, with a population of a trifle 
over twenty-three millions. This would be 885 
daily. Probably during the last year the daily 
average did not vary much from one thousand. 
One thousand human beings consigned daily to 
the silent grave, during the entire year ! When 
thus viewed in the aggregate, how small a thing 
is human life,—of how little consequence is 
man ! In less than two months, a population 
equal that of the entire city of Rochester ceases 
to exist,—is blotted out forever from life ! Well 
might it be said, “ What is man that thou art 
mindful of him, or the son of man, that thou re- 
gardest him ?” 
The following table of the ages and sexes of 
those who died, will be found peculiarly inter¬ 
esting, and worthy of careful consideration : 
The ratio of deaths to the living is much less 
in the United States than in England, and is 
certainly a very strong argument in favor of the 
superior comforts which are within the reach of 
the mass of our population. From tables com¬ 
piled in England in 1847, it appears that the 
ratio in the several countries mentioned, being 
an average for four years, except in Russia, 
which was for the year 1842, was, in 
Population. 
Annual Mortality, 
Living to 
per cent. 
deaths. 
England.. 
...15,927,867 
2.207 
45 
France ... 
..34,230,178 
2.397 
42 
Prussia.. 
...14,928,501 
2.658 
38 
Austria.. 
...21,571,594 
2.995 
33 
Russia .. 
.. .49,525,420 
3.590 
28 
AddU.States 23,191,876 
1.035 
72 
Too little attention 
has heretofore 
been paid 
in this country to the statistics of Mortality.— 
There is no branch of the statistics of 
a country 
Ages. 
Males. 
Females. 
Under 1 year. 
. 29,569 
24,696 
1 
and 5 . 
. 36,349 
32,364 
5 
“ 10 . 
_11,549 
10,172 
10 
“ 20 . 
.13,760 
14,485 
20 
“ 50 . 
. 48,773 
41,734 
50 
“ 80 . 
.... 26,511 
20,840 
80 
“100 . 
. 5,152 
5,020 
100 
“ over . 
. 173 
190 
Total. 
... 172,800 
150,178 
more important, and it is to be hoped that the 
present Census will lay the foundation for a 
thorough system, not only for the Union, but for 
the different States. 
As the foreign population has formed a sub¬ 
ject of much discussion for the past year, the 
following table may not be without instruction. 
In the Census report the Union is divided into 
sections: 
Section. 
Free native pop- 
Foreign. 
proportion 
ulation and un- 
of foreign to 
known. 
native. 
Eastern. 
...2,421,867 
306,249 
12.65 
Middle. 
.5,447,733 
1,080,674 
19,84 
Southern. 
.2,342,255 
48,580 
1.86 
Southwestern .. 
.1,973,531 
105,585 
5.34 
N. W. and Territories 5,557,526 
708,860 
12.75 
Total.. 
. 17,742,915 
2,244,648 
12.65 
We have not thought it necessary to distin¬ 
guish the white from the colored population in 
the above table, deeming it of no material con¬ 
sequence at this time. As a general thing, 
however, the deaths among the latter class, 
whether slave or free, are more numerous in 
proportion to their number, than among the 
whites. Thus the deaths to the living of each 
color and condition are in the following ratio 
per cent.:— Whites, 1.35 ; Blacks, (slaves) 1.64; 
Mulattoes, (slaves) 1.33; Free Blacks, 1.71; 
Free Mulattoes, 1.09 ; — which, considering that 
the number of the colored population was less 
than one-fifth of the whole, shows a much 
greater ratio of deaths. 
It may not be out of place here to notice the 
ages of the whole population of the Union in 
that year, with the proportion or ratio which 
each bears to the hole : 
We cannot close this article without offering 
a tribute of praise to Prof. J. D. B. De Bow, 
Superintendent of the Seventh Census. It is 
to his untiring energy, and intimate acquain¬ 
tance with statistical investigation, more than 
to any one man, that the country is indebted for 
the most elaborate and complete census of its 
population and resources, that has ever yet been 
published in the United States. Hone but 
those who have been engaged in statistical la¬ 
bors, can have the faintest idea of the vast 
labor which he has performed. He may well 
be proud of the monument which he has reared 
to his name, and the glory of our country.—P. 
THE PHILOSOPHY OE BAIN. 
FOUNDING OF DARTMOUTH COLLEGE. 
Age. 
N umber. 
Ratio. 
Under 1 year. 
. 629,446 
2 71 
1 and 5 .. 
...2,868,327 
12.37 
6 “ 20 . 
. .8,661,689 
37.35 
20 “ 50 . 
....8,949,797 
38.59 
50 “ 80 . 
.1,976,700 
8.52 
80 “100 . 
. 89,077 
.39 
100 “ over . 
. ... 2,555 
.01 
Unknown 
. 14,285 
.06 
The diseases whereof these persons 
died, are 
It is now a hundred years since Moor’s school, 
founded by Eleazer Wheelock, took its name 
from the benevolent farmer in Lebanon, Con¬ 
necticut, who gave it a house and two acres of 
land. It was instituted for the education of 
Indian youth, in order that they might after¬ 
ward carry back to their own people the seeds, 
both of civilization and Christianity. The his¬ 
tory of that preliminary effort, its motives, its 
natural growth out of the spirit of the times, is 
yet to be written. A few years witnessed an 
enlargement, to some extent, of the school, and 
a still greater expansion of the ideas and pur¬ 
poses of its founders. They were no longer 
satisfied with a simple Indian school, but wish¬ 
ed for a college, with a sufficiently ample char¬ 
ter, and larger immunities and privileges.— 
They sought for it a situation where they might 
neither interfere with others, nor be overshad¬ 
owed and hindered by others. One plan, not 
very seriously entertained, perhaps, was to re¬ 
move it to lands on the Mississippi, given to 
officers engaged in the old French war ; another, 
to establish it in Berkshire Co., Massachusetts, 
where liberal subscriptions were raised; still 
another, to fix it at the city of Albany. Nor 
was it till after much travel, and the inspection 
of many places, that it was decided to rest upon 
these pine-clad plains, beneath the shadows of 
the granite mountains. 
Why this particular ground was selected— 
why in preference especially to the spot four 
miles south, the junction of streams, marking 
the courses of traffic, and offering the most fa¬ 
vorable sites, I do not know ; but this region 
was fixed upon through the liberal offers of 
Gov. Wentworth, both of land for its funds, and 
of his aid in securing a charter ; and still fur¬ 
ther, in order that here, on the boundaries of 
two States, and far away under the northern 
skies, beyond any other college, it might be 
near the tribes whose welfare was a prominent 
design of its benefactors, and still be within 
reach of “ English youth,” as the charter terms 
them, to which it was freely open .—Address of 
Prof. Samuel Oilman Brown. 
To tell our own secrets is generally folly, but 
that folly is without guilt. To communicate 
those with which we are entrusted, is always 
treachery, and treachery for the most part com¬ 
bined with folly. 
classed under two general heads. Zymotic 
and Sporadic, and embrace one hundred 
and five causes of death, besides still - born 
and unknown. Nearly forty-five per cent, of 
the deaths is embraced under the head of Zy¬ 
motic diseases, which include cholera, dysente¬ 
ry, and the fever generally. 31,506 died of 
of cholera, 10,706 of croup, 20,556 of dysentery, 
18,108 of fever, 13,099 of typhoid fever. Of the 
other classes, 54,800 died of diseases of the re¬ 
spiratory organs, 23,787 of the brain and ner¬ 
vous system, and over 15,000 from diseases of 
the digestive organs. 
For the purpose of designating the seasons, 
and classifying the deaths occurring thereiu, it 
became necessary to assume rather an arbitrary 
division. November, December and January 
are assumed as the Winter months, February, 
March and April the Spring, etc. The deaths 
in the different seasons were : 
Spring.75,5S8 23.39 per cent. 
Summer.89,283 27.64 “ 
Autumn ...._96,790 29.96 “ 
Winter.56,283 17.41 “ 
It may be interesting to the profession to 
know about how much time they may calculate 
upon being employed in each case. It is cer¬ 
tainly so to the living to know, when they em¬ 
ploy the physician, about how long they must 
make up their minds to take medicine before 
they “ shuffle off the mortal coil.” The ratio of 
those who were sick, 
Under one week, was...32 94 per cent. 
One week and under one month-30.38 “ 
One month and under three-8.18 “ 
Three months and over.---15.72 “ 
The profession are, therefore, to be considered 
as very merciful or very unlucky, as nearly two- 
thirds of the cases are disposed of in less than 
a month, and the patient handed over to the 
undertaker. 
Speaking of undertakers, reminds us of a little 
incident which, though not exactly pertinent, 
is not without its signification. We were uot 
long since in the shop of one of those itinerent 
grave-stone makers, who, having done up one 
locality, go on to another. He was a stranger 
in the region, and we suggested that it would 
not be a bad idea to make the acquaintance of 
the doctor at an early day. “I intend to,” 
quoth he, “ We always make it a point to be on 
good terms with the doctors, for they are sure 
to know before any body else, whether the pa¬ 
tient’s going to die or not.’ We came away 
impressed with the lesson. 
To understand the philosophy of this beauti¬ 
ful and sublime phenomenon, so often witnessed 
since the creation of the world, and so essential 
to the very existence of plants and animals, a 
few facts derived from observation and a long 
train of experiments must be remembered : 
Were the atmosphere everywhere at all times 
of a uniform temperature, we should never have 
rain, hail or snow. The water absorbed by it 
in evaporation from the sea and the earth’s sur¬ 
face would descend in an imperceptible vapor, 
or cease to be absorbed by the air when it was 
once fully saturated. 
The absorbing power of the atmosphere, and 
consequently its capacity to retain humidity, is 
proportionately greater in warm than in cold air. 
The air near the surface of the earth is warm¬ 
er than it is in the region of the clouds. The 
higher we ascend from the earth the colder we 
find the atmosphere. Hence the perpetual 
snow on very high mountains in the hottest 
climate. 
How, when from continued evaporation the 
air is highly saturated, with vapor, though it be 
invisible and the sky appear cloudless, yet if its 
temperature is suddenly reduced by cold cur¬ 
rents of air descending from a higher to a lower 
latitude, its capacity to retain moisture is di¬ 
minished, clouds are formed, and the result is 
rain. It condenses, it cools, and like a sponge 
filled with water and compressed, pours out the 
water its diminished capacity cannot hold.— 
How singular, but how simple the philosophy 
of rain. What but omniscience could have de¬ 
vised such an admirable arrangement for wa¬ 
tering the earth ?— Selected. 
SINGULAR PHYSIOLOGICAL PACT. 
M USINGS OF A BEREAVED MOTHER. 
And I am left I There is a strange delight 
In counting o’er one’s bitterness, to cull 
A flower of comfort from it. I am left 
To hear the gathering storms of life. My child! 
Still tempest tossed upon its dangerous seas, 
Whilst thou art safely moored. Thy little barque 
Is anchored in the haven, where the winds 
Of sorrow never blow ; thy star has risen 
In climes of peace and love, to set no more 
Forever and forever. All thy life 
Was like a rosebud—like the gentle breath 
Of purest fragrance, wafted on the wiDg 
Of early zephyr, like the opening ray 
Of morning’s softest blush. Thy little heart 
Had never tasted woe. Thy infant breast 
Was Heaven’s own dwelling-place—it never knew 
The touch of aught save innocence and love. 
Blessed child t 
Thy lot on earth wa3 bright, and now thou art 
With holy angels I will cease to mourn ! 
Oh had I loved thee less, my foolish heart 
Had sighed to keep thee in this changing world : 
Had fastened thee to life ’till thou had’st drained 
Its very dregs of woe. Never, oh ! never 
Would I have knelt and kissed the chastening rod 
With such unfeigned submission—never, never 
Could I have looked so calmly on the smile 
Thy parting spirit left, had my fond soul 
Less doatingly hung o’er thee in thy life— 
Less proudly treasured up thy darling name 
In the deep recess of my heart. But now 
Our very lives were one. There could not be 
A deeper, purer tenderness than heaved 
This trembling breast for thee. How could I then 
Ask aught for thee but happiness ? In life 
When thou wast closely folded in these arms 
And I did feel thy warm breath on my cheek 
Thy smilling eyes fixed tenderly on mine, 
My prayers were full of pleadings, agonies 
Almost, of earnestness that Heaven would bless 
Thy opening day with joy and every good 
That might be deemed most proper. Oh ! are not 
These prayers most full}- answered Could toy soul, 
In all its deepest gush of tenderness 
Have asked a holier boon, a blessedness 
More durable, more infinite and pure, 
More like the nature of a God to give, 
Than Heaven’s own self with all its blessed ones, 
Its high society, its holy love, 
Its rapturous songs of gratitude and praise, 
Its pure celestial streams, and fruits and flowers, 
And glorious light reflected from the face 
Of God’s Eternal Son. Could I have claimed 
A higher boon my precious babe for thee ? 
And then again, to be exempt from woe 
And human suffering, forever free 
From all the toils and pains and nameless cares 
That gather with our years, and oh ! perchance, 
At last a hopeless death ! Oh, I could weep 
With very gratitude that thou art saved ; 
Thy soul forever saved! What though my heart 
Should bleed at.every pore ? Still thou art blcssed- 
There is an hour, my precious innocent, 
• When we shall meet again. Oh ! may we meet 
To separate no more ! 
GOD BE WITH YOU. 
A not uncommon sense, observes Dr. James 
Copeland, of depressed vital power is the young 
sleeping with the aged. This fact, however 
explained, has been long remarked, and is well 
known to every unprejudiced observer. I have 
on several occasions met with the counterpart 
of the following case : I was a few years ago 
consulted about a poor, sickly, and thin boy, of 
about four or five years of age. He appeared 
to have no. specific ailment, but there was a 
slow and remarkable decline of flesh and 
strength, and of the energy of the- functions— 
what his mother very aptly termed a gradual 
blight. 
After inquiry into the history of the case, it 
came out that he had been a very robust and 
plethoric child up to his third year, when his 
grand-mother, a very aged person, took him to 
sleep with her; that he soon afterwards lost his 
good looks ; and that he continued to decline 
progressively ever since, notwithstanding med¬ 
ical treatment. I directed him to sleep apart 
from the aged parent, and prescribed gentle 
tonics, change of air, <fcc. The recovery was 
rapid. Young females married to very old 
men suffer in a similar manner, although seldom 
to so great an extent; and instances have come 
to my knowledge where they have suspected 
the cause of a debilitated state. These facts 
are often well known to the aged themselves, 
who consider the indulgence favorable to lon¬ 
gevity, and thereby iliustr- .e selfishness 
which in some persons increases with their 
years. Every medical pra lioner well 
aware of the fact, and par s are generally 
advised not to allow their i units to sleep -with 
aged persons. 
How long the sweet sound thrills your ear, 
and subdues almost to tears. You scarce think 
it a shame to your manhood for the warm drops 
to gush forth from the fountain of sadness, for 
it was your mother’s voice that uttered the fare¬ 
well. You see through the tears that fill her 
eyes as she fondly gazes after the retreating 
carriage, and you throw yourself back upon the 
cushions, and dream waking dreams, yet full of 
the sober realities of life. 
You have turned from the light of home and 
are going forth into the world — you have left 
boyhood’s joys and sorrows, and alas ! much of 
its light-heartedness, in the old homestead 
where they will miss you so much—for you are 
a man now, and must work your own way 
through the world. Hot even the restraint of a 
mother’s glance will be upon you, and for a 
moment you smile a little triumphantly and 
draw up your collar with new dignity, but it is 
only for a moment. True, you will be free from 
restraint, yet who in that vast multitude with 
whom you must mingle will there be to care for 
you ? You feel for the first time that you will 
be alone, and your heart grows heavier, and 
vou almost wish you had claimed the shelter of 
home a little longer, and been content with its 
humble pleasures. 
But shall you be alone ? Not so ! How can 
you so soon forget the parting blessing. “ God 
be with you.” And so He will, if you carry 
with you the teachings of your childhood, fol¬ 
low the pure precepts that dear mother gave— 
you will be in the world, but not of it—and yet 
you will not be alone ; for He who promises to 
be a father to the fatherless, will go with you 
always. 
Should the way seem dark. Himself will be 
your light — should you grow weary of life’s 
battles. His own arm will strengthen and sup¬ 
port—should your heart faint through manifold 
temptations, be not dismayed, for He who is 
stronger than the tempter will be your deliver¬ 
er ; through life He will guide you, and when 
your feet are near the shores of Jordan, “ His 
rod and His staff shall comfort.” “ God be with 
you,” to the end !—Baltimore Dispatch. 
Bright Hours and Gloomy. —Ah, this beauti¬ 
ful world ! I know not what to think of it.— 
Sometimes it is all sunshine and gladness, and 
heaven itself lies not far off, and then it sud¬ 
denly changes and is dark and sorrowful, and 
the clouds shut out the day. In the lives of 
the saddest of us there are bright days like 
this, when we feel as if we could take the great 
world in our arms. Then come gloomy hours 
when the fire will not burn on our hearths and 
all without and within is dismal, cold and dark. 
Believe me, every heart has its secret sorrows, 
which the world knows not, and oftentimes we 
call a man cold when he is only sad.— Long¬ 
fellow. 
He enjoys much who is thankful for little. 
If the mercies of God be not load-stones to 
draw us to heaven, they will be mill-stones to 
sink us to perdition. 
