MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
AUGUST 16. 
, v ♦ * < ,a v* by putting forth effort, then I dishonor Lira by ^vy ♦ ’ YY 
remaining passive and refusing to do so. ©put ittjsmlatty. 
A great deal has been said to you about read- _ 
inq, and the importance of devoting attention 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE. *, . L ,, . b , SONG OF THE SEASONS. 
__ to this means of self-improvement cannot be _ 
music too fully impressed upon you. Few young by chas. mackat. 
_ persons realize the amount of time that they - 
by gko. r. morris. literally throw away in leisure moments. If I heard the language of the trees, 
, , , , , In the noons of the early summer; 
_ . .. . “7“ . thp w Y ou are detained a few moments by the delay As the leaTOa were moved like rippling aeas 
The Wind harp has music m ans > of a meal, you may secure in a few sentences By the wind-a constant comer. 
And so has the shell that complains to the sea, . , , , .. . , „ J . . .„ 
The lark that sings merrily over the lea, from some valuable work a theme for hours of It came and it went at its wanton will ; 
The reed of the rude shepherd boy 1 meditation. And it is thus alone that your And evermore loved to daily, 
We revel in music when day has begun, reading may become profitable to you. Some W ' th t ’ iaricli and flower, fiom the cope of the hill 
When rock-fountains gush into glee as they run, nersons are uerfect gourmands of books vet ot ewaim ep iso tieva ey. 
And stars of the morn sing their hymns to the sun, P erS0BS "® V™™ ^ 0t b ™ kS ’ 7™ The sunlight glow’d ; the waters flow’d ; 
Who brightens the hill-tops with joy ! rea P B0 beneflt fr0m them ’ whllc aEOther Wl11 The music chauted ’ 
read or perhaps hear casually mentioned some And the words of the trees on my senses fell, 
The spirit of melody floats in the air, fact in history or science, and gather for him. By a spirit of Beauty haunted ; 
Her instruments tuning to harmony there, gelf a rich fund of wisdom from it . Y OU must Said each to each, in mystic speech 
Our senses beguiling from sorrow and care, . “ The skies our branches nourish : 
In blessings sent down from above ! learn to generalize, to look for principles, and go The world is good—the world is fair— 
But Nature has music far more to my choice— back of the event or phenomenon for the cause Let us enjoy and flourish I” 
And all in her exquisite changes rejoice- that produced it. Do not, for instance, be satis- Again i heard the steadfast trees ; 
No tones thrill my heart like t e tear uman voice g ed with knowing that at a certain period of The wintry winds were blowing ; 
When breathed by the being I love! . & . 1 mi ,, ° 
f Home Journal time the government of a nation was changed There seem d a roar as ot stormy seas, 
__ from a despotism to an embryo republic. Think And of 8hips t0 * he depths d ® wn ' 80 ^ g ; 
_ _ 7" _| _ _ i • , And ever a moan thro’the woods was blown, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. about that. Go back to the history of all gOV- As the branches snapp’d asunder, 
LETTERS to THE YOUNG FOLKS, ernments, and see how it has always been ob- And the long boughs swung like the frantic arms 
- served that despotism can only be maintained Of a crowd in affright and wonder. 
by auxt mary. so long as the government is made the unit: Heavily rattled the driving hail i 
_ , . , , i • • ,, , . . And storm and flood combining, 
and man considered as deriving all his lmnor- T .,. . . . , . ’ 
My Dear Friends “ Old folks for counsel, tance f rom b i s relations to that, and just in pro- Under the Shingle twining. 7 
young for war, says an ancient maxim, and p 0r ti 0 n as mau begins to rise in the scale of be- Said tree to tree, “ These tempests free 
perhaps you young ones tv ho aie piepaiing to j n g t be considered as an independent unit Our sap and strength shall nourish ; 
act in the great battle of life, may not take just in tbat proportion despotism grows weak, Tho’ the world be hard, tho’ the world be cold, 
amiss a few words of counsel from one who has UHfcilj in a high state of development, it must 6 6 ' 
passed through many of the conflicts and strug- cer tainly fall. Here is your principle: you ' ***' 
gies before you, and can now see her own er- bave geen itg working8 commenced-now look . “h S? BROTHERS 
rors and those you will be likely to fall into. furtherj and - f the reli ion of the peop]e h&g A TALK WI TH MY BROTHERS. 
1 want to say a few words first to the Young been national, you will find dissenters present- « Men are made in the image of God. Gen- 
Men, the farmers sons, who are growing up at i y springing up, from the opposition to central- tlemen are manufactured by barbers, tailors and 
home, amid all the home influences and oppor- Nation that naturally possesses the mind of the boot makers ” 
tunities for improvement. If there ever was a people. We are apt to lose sight of the real T o be sure, a man may “earn his bread by 
time when a faimer or a mechanic might be cause m the prominent actors, and forget that the sweat of his brow.” He may be clad in 
prosperous and respected without the aid of the times produce the men, and not the men coarBe raiment,-his hands may be hard-his 
education, that time has gone by. Every man the times . . . , TT 
, , , „ J complexion darkened by the sun. He may 
is now expected to possess a thorough English B ut I am wandering from my purpose, which b ave five graill8 of common sense, and a soul.- 
education, and he owes it as a duty to himself, was mere ly to suggest the true purpose of read- B ut a gentleman ! it is perfectly absurd to think 
to society, and to God, to use his utmost endeavor ing . Some may perhaps imagine that this habit 0 f his toiling-not a bit of it. He must live on 
to gain such an one. Societyhas a right to de- 0 f reflection necessarily demands much leisure. h is father's bounty, eat the bread purchased by 
maud that everyone shall fit himself for fill- Far from lt . A man may accomplish much his hard earnings. Let him bend over the 
ing intelligently and usefully whatever station physical labor, and yet busy his mind with counter or work-bench, while our gentleman 
h nlTTh be ri P °ff TT. And ^r tbou S bt very slightly connected with his occu- loungeB up and down the street-a gold chain 
, . * , na e ° 1 * en o 1 e pation. I have often wondered if a man could dangling from his pocket — hat on one side 
■ luxury that she looks for the strength of brain become so narrow in capacity as to concentrate 0 f his head - hair oiled and be-curled, or 
and smew that are requisite to keep in motion a ll the energies of Ins soul upon the mere me- perchance cropped close, vide the recent brief 
all the mighty wheels of thought and action, chanical operations of driving a team, sowing Lde, swinging his cane in the most approved 
but to earnest, strong-hearted, strong-handed grain, or hoeing corn for days and weeks at a style—fancying that every lady he chances 
sons of labor, whose blood has been kept in time. True it is that the great rule of doing t o meet is struck with admiration by his impe- 
vigorous motion by action that left it no time to one thing at a time is an excellent one to act by, ri al or moustacke-or, in short, as the conceited 
stagna e. It is the constant mingling of pie- ye t there are many things that from their nature s i mp l et on thinks, she falls deeply in love with 
bian blood that has long kept up vigor in the demand but a small share of thought. I was him,—while the fact is, ten chances to one she 
aristocracy of the old countries, and so it is that once endeavoring to incite a young man to de- utte rly despises the brainless fop, with his con- 
rom e wor ing men mus a ways u timately vote his leisure time to study, and mentioned sequential, self-assured manner. Under such 
spring all pure, thoroughly healthful activity of the example of our blacksmith, Elihu Burritt, circumstances it is impossible for him to have 
ln G 6C ’ wbo was in the habit of placing his book by bis a gou^ 0 r at least one larger than that surface 
lou need an education for your own self-re- anvil, that he might study while at his work, described in geometry, which has length and 
spect. NTo man really respects lnmself, except The young man was quite interested, but his breadth but no thickness, 
just as far as he is entirely truthful— true to father, taking his pipe from his lips, very For 8 b am e ! ye lily-fingered, effeminate Lil- 
himself and to his relations to others,-and no quaintly observed, “How, I’ll be bound that li put iuns ’ How dare ye thus desecrate the 
one who neglects to tram and cultivate, the chap didn’t make very good horse-shoes, those noblest work 0 f God— make it a temple for the 
faculties of mind and body entrusted to him, days.” There was a deal of practical wisdom goddess of Vanity alone ! Arise and proclaim 
can be in any true sense said to live. God has in the remark, but it did not entirely set aside your man hood. Do something, if it be nothing 
given you eyes, yet if you will not use them, the force of the example. but wash dishes for your mother. Resolve to 
you must be held accountable for resulting Above all things you need firm, unwavering, be som ebody in the world. Throw away your 
errors, and you surely are equally responsible Christian principle. A young man is never safe tobacco and cigars—renounce those companions 
for your use of the intellectual endowments. and reliable who has no better standard of right wbo laugh at your sheepishness, as they may 
You may do much for yourselves, let your and wrong than the opinions of others. If you be pleased to term it. Brave the storm—care 
advantages be ever so limited.^In point of fact can honestly say, “ I fear but two myself and ncd f or tbeir sneers—they are not worth notic- 
you must do all for yourselves. We hear peo- my God,” you are safe, and not otherwise. If j ng “Hew to the line, let the chips fly where 
pie frequently say, such and such men are you bring your thoughts and actions to no t b ey will.” Try to do right, regardless of con- 
“ self-made men." Now the truth is, every man higher tribunal than this world’s judgment, you sequences. By so doing, you will acquire that 
who ever accomplishes anything great or good are not living the life God meant you to live. f ear l e ss nobility of spirit and demeanor which 
in the world must be self-made. “ Every man,” “Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel, seems to j^ for you the love and respect of tlie 
says a great poet, “makes his own stature, be written as a curse against many an one. Let t ru ly great and noble. Carrie Covington. 
builds himself," and it is certainly true that, in it be to your aim, by an earnest, persistent, __ 
a far greater measure’than many suppose, a man manly course to work out all your earthly mis- Written for Moore’s Rnrai New-Yorker, 
may become whatever he dare aim to become, sion nobly and well, and thus to offer to the piANO FORTES—MUSIC MAD.” 
Resolution is well nigh omnipotent, and I doubt Father above us the highest worship that human - 
if an instance can be found where a person has soul can render—that of a life whose deeds are In the Rural New-Y'orker of July 19th, that 
devoted his whole energy of purpose to the at- both prayer and praise. very piquant and discursive writer, the “Rag- 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE. 
BY GKO. P. MORRIS. 
The wind-harp has music it moans to the tree. 
And so has the shell that complains to the sea, 
The lark that sings merrily over the lea, 
The reed of the rude shepherd boy 1 
We revel in music when day has begun, 
When rock-fountains gush into glee as they run, 
And stars of the morn sing their hymns to the sun, 
Who brightens the hill-tops with joy ! 
The spirit of melody floats in the air, 
Her instruments tuning to harmony there, 
Our senses beguiling from sorrow and care, 
In blessings sent down from above ! 
But Nature has music far more to my choice— 
And all in her exquisite changes rejoice— 
No tones thrill my heart like the dear human voice 
When breathed by the being I love ! 
[Home Journal. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-YorkeT. 
LETTERS TO THE YOUNG FOLKS. 
BY AUNT MARY. 
SONG OF THE SEASONS. 
BY CHAS. MACKAY. 
I heard the language of the trees, 
In the noons of the early summer ; 
As the leaves were moved like rippling seas 
By the wind—a constant comer. 
It came and it went at its wanton will ; 
And evermore loved to daily, 
With branch and flower, from the cope of the hill 
To the warm depths of the valley. 
The sunlight glow’d ; the waters flow’d ; 
The birds their music chanted, 
And the words of the trees on my senses fell, 
By a spirit of Beauty haunted ; 
Said each to each, in mystic speech:— 
“ The skies our branches nourish : 
The world is good—the world is fair— 
Let us enjoy and flourish I” 
Again I heard the steadfast trees ; 
The wintry winds were blowing ; 
There seem’d a roar as of stormy seas, 
And of ships to the depths down-going ; 
And ever a moan thro’ the woods was blown, 
As the branches snapp’d asunder, 
And the long boughs swung Uke the frantic arms 
Of a crowd in affright and wonder. 
Heavily rattled the driving hail I 
And storm and flood combining, 
Laid bare the roots of mighty oaks 
Under the shingie twining. 
Said tree to tree, “ These tempests free 
Our sap and strength shall nourish ; 
Tho’ the world he hard, tho’ the world be cold, 
We can endure and flourish 1” 
•-■-»*■»- 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A TALK WITH MY BROTHERS. 
“ Men are made in the image of God. Gen 
To be sure, a man may “earn his bread by 
goddess of Vanity alone ! Arise and proclaim 
your manhood. Do something, if it be nothing 
but wash dishes for your mother. Resolve to 
be somebody in the world. Throw away your 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PIANO FORTES-MUSIC MAD.’ 
tainment of an object and has failed of success. 
Choose for yourselves, will you be ground- 
birds or eagles ?—will you creep or soar ?— 
will you be the tool or the sculptor ? 
A WIFE’S FRAYEB. 
Are you poor ? must you earn^by the sweat joined, we have not seen it : 
of your brow whatever of mental culture you „ T i v.t i , , 
fee . ., , ^ “Lord, bless and preserve that dear person 
gain l So much the better for you, and for the ,,,,,,, r 
& ,, / , , , „ whom thou has chosen to be 
world. Men that have climbed the hill of , . , , ,, 
ul can render—that of a life whose deeds are In the Rural New-Y'orker of July 19th, that 
>th prayer and praise. very piquant and discursive writer, the “Rag¬ 
ged Philosopher,” launched forth a very racy 
-- Phiiipic on the above theme. We beg your 
T ,, • ,v- ,, , , „ indulgence while we “ confess” him, and offer 
If there is anything that comes nearer to the „ & , . . , . ,, 
, f T 3 4. AT • ^ , a few thoughts on musical affairs generally, 
imploration of Ruth to Naomi than the sub- 6 ° J 
Hear him :— “God makes painters, and poets, 
and musicians, and it is preposterous for man 
to undertake to make a voice or an ear, where 
b ,, .... , j ,, . „ whom thou has chosen to be my husband—let . , • * j j » m, c 
world. Men that have climbed the hill of , , ,, , none was created or intended. Iherefore if 
. . . . , , his life be long and blessed, comfortable, and , , , „ e . 
knowledge slowly and painfully, hewing out , , , , , , , , .. we are not “created perfect musicians, we 
, ~ , ° holy; and let me also become a great blessing , . , . - • , ,, 
steps for their feet as they went, have always / , . . . ..... 6 must abstain from attempting the science at all. 
, ,, , , , „/ unto him, and a sharer in all his sorrows, a meet 
been those who have blessed the world by liv- . , ,, ., , . . . We beg to say, that God has given to every liv- 
. , , . J , helper m all the accidents and changes in this . . . , , r ... 
ing in it, and whose names have been spoken , . ... , ° , ing soul a talent lor musical science, and it 
T .-I world, and make me amiable and forever dear f , •, • 
with reverence. I would not have you commit . . . , . , , , . ... , should be the duty ot all to see that it is prop- 
, , . . r,. to him ! Unite lus heart to me in all the dear- , , L . , . 
yourselves rashly to any fpurpose. Sit down , . , . ,. . . , . ... -- 
first and count the cost. Look at all the discour- C ^. °' ean o iness, an mine o -eep lm in Moreover, if such is the Philosopher’s the- 
agements that you must encounter frompover- a swee ness, c ian y, c°mp lance eep me ob)g y we dissent entirely from accepting him 
° . J „ r , from all ungentleness, alldiscoDtentedness, and ... ... f ., .. , , f , . v 
ty, from scorn, perhaps from a separation from ,, ^ . , . , as a critic, either of the “old fashioned violin 
„ . , . . , , , unreasonableness of passion and humor, and ,, . „ c , . , e 
friends: think of the hard struggles, the long;- , , ,, , , . . . . tunes or of the “new fangled Cherokee fan- 
continued, persevering study—temptations from , ... tasias. By taking his hue into account, and 
, j , J ... . ^ servant, that we may delight in each other, ... _i 
vrriflY/Mif onrl HAiihfmflpfl nrifViir* 1 JO 3 1. K/: vol 1 ’ir PVP1Y 1 1QITY CT 2 WP.I 1 k'Tl Wn V ftH Kftft taP,] - 
erly cultivated. 
Moreover, if such is the Philosopher’s the- 
without and doubtings within. Think of T ,7” “' v 7 liberallyexercisingaweliknownl'ankeefacul- 
all these, and then make up your mind, calmly, acc01 °. ® es ® s W01 > an 0 1 0 us ty, we think he must be better acquainted with 
fully, resolutely, once and forever. If you are T" oar portroa m the B ’ ch >dmirabl e alre, a.-Old Virgiaay"-Fish- 
„...love and service of God forever !-amen.” . _• t.h«« will, tho 
liberally exercising a well known Yankee facul- 
to have an education, give yourself to that pur¬ 
pose with all your might, mind and strength. The character of the young men of a com- -- „ J 
Work for it, think for it, live for it. The impe- munity depends much on that of the youmr Tbe fact 1S ’ Mr ' Edltpr ’ to a PP’ -eciat ® and lin ’ 
tus of the torrent carries it over a thousand ob- women . If tbe latter are cultivated, intelligent clerstand music the car must be c ^ l ™ ated - 1 ma Y 
structions, and the energy of your determina- and accomplished, the young men will feel the P la ^ the sad) Solemn harmomes o{ Mozart’s 
Lon will sweep many an obstacle from your requirem ent that they themselves should be Requiem, or the majestic strains of John Sebas- 
P ath ’ upright, gentlemanly and refined ; but if their TIA * BaCH ’ and the sit as uninter- 
Do not be misled by sucb maxims as “Let female friends are frivolous and silly, the young ested aDd unC0DCerned as thou S h 1 were ren- 
well enough alone," &c., which you frequently men will be found to be dissipated and worth- derlD g a chlld ’ s fancies ; but strike three notes 
hear quoted. They are good in a partial sense, less. But remember, always, that a sister is of “ Nelly Bly ’” or “ ^ llllkeas aud lus Blnah " 
but are often falsely used. If God bad made the best guardian of a brother’s integrity. She and the hoUSe C ° meS ‘‘ C ° Wn Wlth a rush ' 
me dumb I would be content and praise him is the surest inculcator of a faith in woman’s With your permission, I will wiite more at 
thus in my heart; but when he has gifted me purity. As a daughter, she is the true light of length in some futuie number. 
er’s hornpipe” and “Jordan,” than with the 
despised Italian fantasias. 
The fact is, Mr. Editor, to appreciate and un- 
with speech I can only glorify him by using 
it. In whatever circumstances I am placed by 
his Providence, I am, without a murmur of dis- 
the home. 
St. Johnsville, N. Y., 1856. 
E. G. Btorms. 
Women, however lovely they may be in per- TnosE wbo, without knowing us, think evil 
content, ready to say, “ Thy will be done but s °n> rarely excite true admiration, if they are of us, do us no harm ; it is not us they attack, 
if I may become more wise, or great, or happy, ignorant of tbe art of conversing well. 
it is the phantom of their own imagination. 
STRUGGLES OF THE GREAT. 
There is a milder and serener form of jdov- 
erty, the nurse of manly energy aud heaven- 
climbing thoughts, attended by love and faith 
and hope, around whose steps the mountain 
breezes blow, aud from whose countenance all 
the virtues gather strength. Look around you 
upon the distinguished men that in every de¬ 
partment of life guide aud control the times, 
and what was their origin and early fortunes. 
Were they, as a general rule, rocked and dan¬ 
dled on the lap of wealth ? No. Such men 
emerge from the homes of decent competence 
or struggling poverty. Necessity sharpens 
their faculties, and privations and sacrifices 
brace tbeir moral nature. They learn the great 
art of renunciation, and enjoy the happiness of 
having few wants. They know nothing of in¬ 
difference or satiety. There is notan idle fibre 
in their frames. They put the vigor of a reso¬ 
lute purpose into every act. The edge of their 
minds is always kept sharp. In the shocks of 
life, men like these meet the softly nurtured 
darlings of prosperity as the vessel of iron 
meets the vessel of porcelain. Lift your hearts 
above the region of wild hopes and cowardly 
fears. Put on that even temper of mind which 
shall be a shadow in success and a light in ad¬ 
versity. If wealth and distinction come, re¬ 
ceive them in a thankful and moderate spirit. 
If they do not come, fill their places with bet¬ 
ter guests. Remember that all which truly 
exalts and ennobles a man is bound to him by 
ties as indissoluble as those which link the 
planets to the sun. Plant yourselves upon 
God’s immutable laws, aud fortune and failure 
will be no more than vapors that curl and play 
far beneath your feet.— George S. Hilliard's 
Mercantile Library Address. 
HOW TO BE MISERABLE. 
Sit at the window and look over the way to 
your neighbor’s excellent mansion, which he 
has recently built aud paid for, and sigh out, 
“ O, that I was a rich man 1” Get angry with 
your neighbor, and think you have not got a 
friend in the world. Shed a tear or two, take a 
walk in the burial ground, conHnually saying 
to yourself, “ when shall I be buried here ?”— 
Sign a note for your friend, and never forget 
your kindness; and every hour in the day 
whisper to yourself, “ I wonder if he will pay 
that note.” Think everybody means to cheat 
you. Closely examine everf bill you take, and 
doubt its being genuine, till you have put the 
owner to a great deal of trouble. Believe eve¬ 
ry shilling passed to you is but a sixpence 
crossed, and express your doubts about your 
getting rid of it, if you should take it. Put 
confidence in nobody and believe every man 
you trade with to be a rogue. Never accommo¬ 
date, if you can possibly help it. Never visit 
the sick or afflicted, and never give a farthing 
to the poor. Buy as cheap as you can, and 
screw down to the lowest mill. Grind the faces 
and the hearts of the unfortunate. Brood over 
your misfortune—your lack of talents, and be¬ 
lieve at no distant day you will come to want. 
Let the workhouse be ever in your mind, with 
all the horrors of distress and poverty. Then 
you will be miserable to your heart’s content, 
(if we may so speak,) sick at heart and at 
variance with all the world. Nothing will 
chher or encourage you ; nothing will throw a 
gleam of sunshine or a ray of warmth into 
your heart. All will be as dark and cheerless 
as the grave.— Selected. 
MORAL COURAGE. 
Sidney Smith, in his work on moral philoso¬ 
phy, speaks in this wise, of what men lose for 
want of a little moral courage, or independence 
of mind :—“ A great deal of talent is lost in the 
world for the want of a little courage. Every 
day sends to the grave a number of obscure 
men, who have only remained in obscurity be¬ 
cause their timidity has prevented them from 
making a first effort ; and who if they could 
have been induced to begin, would in all proba¬ 
bility, have gone great lengths in the career of 
fame. The fact is, that to do anything in this 
world worth doing, we must not stand back 
shivering, and thinking of the cold and the 
danger, but jump in and scramble through as 
well as we can. lt will not do to be perpetual¬ 
ly calculating tasks, and adjusting nice chances; 
it did very well before the flood, where a man 
could consult his friends upon an intended pub¬ 
lication for a hundred and fifty years, and then 
live to see its success afterward ; but at present, 
a man waits and doubts and hesitates and con¬ 
sults his brother, and his uncle, and particular 
friends, till one fine day he finds that he is 
sixty years of age; that he has lost so much 
time in consulting his first cousin and particu¬ 
lar friends, that he has no more time to follow 
their advice.” 
Be Careful of Small Things.— Irving, in his 
“ Life of Washington,” dwells on the particu¬ 
larity with which the great hero attended to 
the minutest affairs. The Father of his Coun¬ 
try, as his correspondence and account books 
show, was “ careful of small things,” as well as 
great, not disdaining to scrutinize the most 
petty expenses of his household ; and this even 
while acting as Chief Magistrate of the first 
Republic in tbe world. The example of Wash¬ 
ington, in this respect, might teach an instruc¬ 
tive lesson to those who scorn what they call 
“petty” details. There are thousands of such 
individuals in every community. Weallkuow 
more or less of them. Yet no man ever made a 
fortune, or rose to greatness in any department, 
without being “ careful of small things.” 
He who knows not when to be silent, knows 
not when to speak. 
SATURDAY NIGHT. 
What blessed tilings Saturday nights are, 
and what would the world do without them ? 
Those breathing moments in the trampling 
march of life; those little twilights in the 
broad and garish glare of noon, when pale yes¬ 
terdays look beautiful through the shadows, 
and faces changed long ago smiled sweetly 
again—when one remembers the old folks at 
home, and the old-fashioned fire, and the little 
brother that died, and the little sister “ trans¬ 
planted.” 
Saturday nights make people human ; set 
their hearts to beating slowly, as they used to 
do, before the world turned them into war- 
drums and jarred them to pieces with tattoo. 
The ledger closes with a crash ; the iron door 
of the vault comes too with a bang ; up go the 
shutters with a will; click goes the key in the 
lock. It is Saturday night, and the business 
man breathes free again. Homeward, ho ! The 
door that has been ajar all the week gently 
closes behind him—the world is shut out. Shut 
out ? Shut in, rather. Here are his treasures 
after ail, and not in the vault; in the record in 
the old family Bible, aud not in the bank. 
May be you are a bachelor forty and frosty. 
Then, poor fellow, Saturday night is nothing to 
you, just as you are nothing to anybody. Get 
a wife, blue-eyed or black-eyed, but above all 
get a true-eyed ; get a little home, no matter 
how little, and a little sofa just to hold two and 
a half in it of Saturday night; and then read 
this paragraph by the light of your wife’s eyes, 
and thank God and take courage. 
The dim and dusty shops are swept up, the 
hammer is thrown down, the apron is doffed, 
and the laborer hastens with a light step home¬ 
ward bound. 
“Saturday night," feebly murmurs the lan¬ 
guishing, as she turns wearily upon her couch, 
“ and there is another to come.” 
“ Saturday night at last 1” whispers the weep¬ 
ing above the dying, “audit is Sunday to-mor¬ 
row, and—to-morrow 1”— Selected. 
MUSICAL FISH. 
A writer in the Bombay Times, states that 
whilst sailing in a boat on a stream near Bom¬ 
bay, the party of which he was one were start¬ 
led by the sound of music, which they believ¬ 
ed to proceed from the near shore, but which 
proved subsequently to come from the surface 
of the water all around the vessel. The sound 
was like a musical bell or the strain of an 
HLolian harp. The boatmen at once intimated 
that the sounds were produced by fish abound¬ 
ing in the muddy creeks and shoals around 
Bombay and Salsette, perfectly well known 
and very often heard. Accordingly on inclin¬ 
ing tbe ear towards the surface of the water— 
or by placing it close to the planks of the ves¬ 
sel—the notes appeared loud and distinct, and 
followed each other in constant succession. The 
boatmen next day produced specimens of the 
fish—a creature closely resembling in size and 
shape tbe fresh water perch of the north of 
Europe—and spoke of them as plentiful and 
perfectly well known. It is hoped that they 
may be procured alive, and the means afforded 
of determining how the musical sounds are 
produced and emitted, with other particulars of 
interest supposed new in ichthyology. 
Of the perfect accuracy with which the sin¬ 
gular facts above related have been given, no 
doubt will be entertained, when it is mentioned 
that the writer of the account was one of a 
party of five intelligent persons by all of whom 
they were most carefully observed, and the im¬ 
pressions of all of whom in regard to them 
were uniform. It is supposed that the fish are 
confined to particular localities—shallows, es¬ 
tuaries aud muddy creeks, rarely visited by 
Europeans; and that is the reason why hitherto 
no mention, so far as we know, has been made 
of the peculiarity in any work on natural history. 
SLOW PEOPLE. 
Persons of dull and languid habits trail 
themselves sluggishly through life, as if some 
loathsome and agonizing viscus clogged every 
movement, and prevented all refreshing repose. 
Their substance is nothing but the slime of in¬ 
dolence, and their contracted snail-path is cov¬ 
ered with their own pollution. There is no 
healthly alacrity in them, none of that vivacious 
energy which indicates either a vigorous body 
or a forcible mind. They drag themselves 
tardily to their toil, as if every joint were a 
socket of torture ; and touch the implements of 
industry as timidly as if they expected their 
effeminate flesh to adhere to whatever it hand- 
died. Work affords them no joy, duty no de¬ 
light; they are emasculated of all manly vigor, 
and have buried their conscience in their lazi¬ 
ness. They are a sort of perpetual somnambu¬ 
lists, walking in their sleep; moving in a con¬ 
stant mystery, looking for their faculties, and 
forgetting what they are looking for ; not able 
to find their work, or when they have found 
that, not able to find their hands; doing every¬ 
thing dreaming, and therefore everything con¬ 
fusedly and incompletely; their work is a 
dream, their sleep a dream, not repose, not re¬ 
freshment, but a slumberous vision of rest, a 
dreaming query concerning sleep ; too late for 
everything, taking their passage when the ship 
has sailed, insuring their property when the 
house is burnt, locking the door when the goods 
are stolen—men, whose bodies seem to have 
started in the race of existence before their 
minds were ready, and who are always gazing 
out vacantly as if they expected their wits were 
coming up by the next arrival.— Selected. 
A good word fora bad one is worth much and 
costs little. 
’i.r'.rwo.M.rw’L'Mvno 
