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MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN’.AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
OCT. 11. 
Palm#’ Ifltt-falifl* 
I CONDUCTED BY AZILE. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
TWILIGHT. 
BY LUCY H. WALKER. 
Earth is beautiful, ’tis eventide, 
My heart is filled with naught beside, 
Fair loveliness of eve. 
Adieu, yon pale retreating light 
Being welcome less than even night, 
Well takest thou thy leave. 
I And thou great glorious orb of day, 
Through heaven’s arc hath sped thy way, 
Sole parentage of light. 
Thy couch with crimson thou hast drest, 
And seemingly hath sunk to rest, 
■ Thou too, dost welcome night. 
Yon star that loves not brilliant day, 
Comes forth to shed its tiny ray 
As if with thought impressed ; 
It twinkles o’er those towering trees 
Whose foliage whispers to the breeze, 
Hush ! ’tis the hour of rest. 
I list, and hear the gushing rills, 
The cattle on the distant hills 
Are silent in repose. 
With joy they hailed the opening day, 
Which quietly they’ve grazed away, 
With gratitude its close. 
Light fleecy clouds, of mellow hue, 
Sink nearer earth, and gentle dew 
Their grateful offering bring ; 
Each bird is hushed in tree and bower, 
To enjoy the peaceful twilight hour, 
With head beneath its wing. 
How sweetly died its evening song, 
Which echo, anxious to prolong, 
Endeavored to repeat; 
’Twas vain ; she could not sing so well, 
And yet there was a magic spell 
About her music sweet. 
A spell which rapt my sou! in love, 
That raised my thoughts, my heart above, 
In gratitude and prayer. 
If such fair scenes to us are given, 
Such music lent to earth, from heaven, 
What are the glories there ? 
And yet my heart beats not the while, 
With impulse caused by Nature’s smile— 
There’s sadness on her brow ; 
But still, that sadness is so sweet 
I’d fain in my own bosom greet 
Its gentle spirit now. 
Methinks there is an unseen power 
Hov’ring o’er earth at twilight hour, 
That lulls the soul to rest; 
So when the night of life draws near, 
Kind spirit, quell each doubt and fear 
That lingers in my breast. 
<Jlover St, Seminary, Aug., 1856. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LETTER TO A CITY BELLE. 
My Dear Laura :—And so you really wish to 
know “ how we contrive to vegetate in the back- 
beauties of Nature. Remember, it has been well 
and truly said—“ Man made the Town, but God 
made the Country,” and I would not willingly 
■ exchange its simple pleasures for all the “ excite¬ 
ment of morning calls, shopping, evening parties 
" and concerts.” Ever most faithfully yours, 
-, August, 1856. A Country Friesd. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A PAGE PROM LIFE’S LESSONS. 
“ Memory has doubled down 
Full many a varied page for me.” 
In adjusting the scroll of Time, Memory oft 
presents to view the happy days spent as a Teach¬ 
er. I recall with pleasure the merry faces, the 
airy forms, the careless laugh, and artless inno¬ 
cence of childhood. Oh, little ones, ye are the 
beauteous flowers in Earth’s garden! Ye the 
sunshine illuminating the sombre paths experience 
opens to mortals. Ye the golden gleams, gilding 
the dark pages of Life’s lessons. I ever love to 
trace the pathway of my former scholars, noting 
the expanding o( the mental powers, from the 
tiny bud even to the perfect flower. None have 
I watched with more interest than Mary. Re¬ 
membrance restores again her thoughtful brow, 
her sparkling eye at the discovery of intellectual 
truths, her studious attention to all that might 
improve. Indeed, I never witnessed, in so mere 
a child, such quick perception of knowledge, or 
eager zeal in its acquirement. And this trait 
“ grew with her growth and strengthened with 
her strength.” Unmindful of obstacles, she 
pressed forward, aiming only to enter the stu¬ 
dent’s charmed arena. Already she stood, half 
child, half woman, gazing back on the enchanted 
land of childhood — lingering, ere she bade its 
pure joys farewell, to assume the responsibilities 
of mature years. 
High hopes were centered -there—fond parents 
marked the unfolding petals almost to the perfect 
flower. Dreams of future loveliness, vainly cher¬ 
ished—and crushed, alas how sadly! The frost 
I of Death swept o’er the field and “nipped the 
tender hud.” As I stood beside her dying couch, 
“ it was a time for memory and for tears.” Re¬ 
collection led me back through the vista of the 
Past, and again I directed the inquiring miud of 
Mary to the fount of knowledge. Conscience, 
too, was there to sternly question whether I had 
sought to impart spiritual as well as intellectual 
endowments. Had I taught her to raise her as¬ 
pirations to Heaven, and cry, in child-like trust, 
“Our Father?”—that, 
“ When the dark-winged angel, Death, 
Had plumed his arrowy dart, 1 
Life’s journey done, Hope’s garland dead 
And stilled her beating heart,— ; 
That He who watched o’er her on earth { 
Would lead her in His love, 
? 
Eager to gain an angel’s harp 
Attuned to notes above.” f 
Ah, in that hour of grief I read anew the re- t 
Slide ftallamj. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MY FATHER. 
BY IDA FAIRFIELD. 
When but a few more years have fled, 
My Father, o’er thine honored head, 
I know that thou wilt find a jped 
Upon a pillow celd. 
I see the furrows on thy brow, 
I know thy step is weary now, 
Thy dark-brown hair has changed to snow, 
But yet thou seem’st not old. 
I know that many a year hath run, 
With winter’s cold and summer’s sun, 
And grim Decay sad trophies won 
From all things bright and fair. 
Since first I met thy pleasant look, 
(As glancing over memory’s book, 
I sit once more in childhood’s nook, 
Free and untouched by care.) 
I know that sorrow’s venomed dart, 
Hath often slumbered in thy heart, 
I see again the tear-drop start, 
Beside the pillowed bed, 
Pressed by a dying mother’s brow, 
Life’s crimson current ebbing low, 
Until at length it ceased to flow, 
And she was with the dead. 
I know that changes too have come, 
Within our quiet happy home, 
And some of the dear ones now roam 
In other lands away, 
Who gathered round the hearth-stone there 
And joined us in the evening prayer, 
Which listening angels used to bpar 
To Heaven at shut of day. 
I see full many a mournful thing, 
Which tells me that Time’s passing wing, 
Doth everywhere a shadow fling, 
But oh I I dare not see, 
That thou art also growing old, 
That soon the cofiiu, and the mold 
Of church-yard stones, so gray and cold, 
Thy resting place must be. 
God grant, that when the hour draws near, 
Which brings the sable and the bier, 
And wrings from us the parting tear, 
Thy heart may be at rest— 
Thy soul on wings of light may soar, 
Before our Father’s throne to pour 
Its songs of praise, forever more 
All glorious and blessed. 
Independence, N. Y., Sept., 1866. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ANOTHER “REASON.” 
GAIT AN INDICATION OF CHARACTER. 
Eds. Rural :—We have no particular desire to • , , , , , , n , , , 
. „ . , * " girls and black stumps.— Selected. 
prolong the controversy with “Carrie Coving- _ 
ton,” to burden your columns, or weary your ANECDOTE OP AUDUBON. 
readers; but if it was, as we averred, impolite not _ 
to reply to her “ Talk," it would be unjust not to Returning from Philadelphia. 
your efforts to ameliorate the condition of your THE “ BRAVE OLD OAK.” 
sex. Go on in your laudable endeavors till wo- -- 
man is redeemed from the degrading thraldom Suppose yourself in a wood ! Do you see 
which so long has bound her, and shall stand ^ at btlde brown vegetable cup with a braided 
forth “ fair as the sun, clear as the moon, and ter- cover— ^icre, by the dead maple leaf and tuft 
lible as an army with banners.” We did not crims °n-headed moss? Yon robin just 
mean anything by our hint at the “modem cos- l danted bis foot upon and covered it. And 
tume.” We like it, only you don’t seem as near then do ? ou see that towering tree whose head 
to us as you did before. Harry HoMEsrux. seems nearly to touch the white cloud above it ? 
__ . .._ Look ! upon its apex there is a bird seemingly 
gait an indication of character. tbe s | ze °f this wild pigeon on the beech tree, 
- but in reality an eagle. True, many years 
Observing persons move slow—their beads have intervened between the two objects, but 
move alternately from side to side, while they y°u think twice ere realizing that yon seamed, 
occasionally stop and turn round. Careful stern, sturdy oak once nestled in this acorn._ 
persons lift their feet high and place them down And what a tree it is I First piercing the 
flat and firm. Sometimes they stoop down, mould, a tiny needle that the ground squirrel 
pick up some little obstruction, and place it would destroy with a nibble, and then rearing 
quietly by the side of the way. Calculating grandly toward the sun a wreath of green to 
persons generally walk with their hands in endure for ages. Doth the wild winds dash 
their pockets, and their heads slightly inclined, against it ? It shakes its proud head, but no 
Modest persons generally step softly for fear of more bends its whole shape than yon crag._ 
being observed. Timid persons often step off Doth the arrowy sleet strike it ? Its leaves 
from the sidewalk on meeting another, and al- °nly make clicking music ; and as for the early 
ways go round a stone, instead of stepping over snow it bears it up easily as a deer would frag- 
it. Wide awake persons “ toe out,” and have a ments of Kalmia blossoms on his antlers. How 
long swing with their arms, while their hands finely its dark green stands out from the lighter 
shake about miscellaneously. Careless persons hues of the beeches, birches and maples. And 
are forever stubbing their toes. Lazy persons then how it keeps old time at a distance ! The 
scrape about loosely with their heels, aud are child gathers the violet at his foot; as a boy he 
first on one side of the walk and then on the pockets its dropped acorns; a man, he looks at 
other. Very strong-minded persons have their its height towering up, towering up, and makes 
toes directly in front of them, and have a kind it the emblem of his ambition. Years after, 
of stamp movement. Unstable persons walk ^ith white hairs and palsied limbs, he totters 
fast and slow by turns. Venturous persons try at noontide to be within its shade and slumber, 
all the roads, frequently climb the fences, in- “perchance to dream” of that last sleep which 
stead of going through the gate, and never let cannot be far distant aud which “knows no 
down a bar. One-ideapersons and very selfish waking.” Rut has the oak changed ? Mocker 
ones “toe in.” Cross persons are apt to hit Ihe storm, stern darer of the lightning, there 
their knees together. Good-natured persons be stands, the same, and seemingly forever.— 
snap their thumb and finger every few steps. Challenger of Time, defyer of earth's changes, 
Fun-loviDg persons have a kind of jig move- there he stands the pride of the forest, satiriz- 
ment. Absent-minded persons often take the ing > ifl bis mute language, alike the variations 
wrong road, and sometimes find themselves up fortune, and evanescence of man. 
to their knees in a mud-puddle, although the And he does all things in a grand, slow way, 
sidewalks are excellent. Dignified men move lln Hke other trees. In spring time, when the 
slow and erect. Fast persons cut across the aspen has showed for a month its young leaves, 
corner, kick every dog they meet, knock down wb en the beech has thrust forth its beautiful 
tlie little children, run against the ladies, and leathers, when the maple has made a red rain 
hit every twelfth man’s ribs with their elbows. ds glowing blossoms upon the forest floor, 
Very neat men occasionally stop to wipe the oak looks as he did when January was 
dust from their boots—their hands hang by fi' ow ning upon its branches. When the aspen 
their sides. Very polite persons are sometimes has elaborated its small leaves into thick fol- 
seen bowing in their course to black servant ^ a ge, when the beech has spangled itself over 
girls and black stumps.— Selected. with emerald, when the maple has hung upon 
-_ its slender stems its broad pearl-lined verdure, 
ANECDOTE OP AUDUBON. no tint of green upon the oak. He stands yet 
" in dark disdain, as if mourning the perished 
Returning from Philadelphia, after an ah- winter. Rut at last, when the woodland is 
reason with her “ Jlcason." V hat we wrote be- sence of several months, absorbed in the new- smiling in its fully developed glory wlmn the 
fore was with a desire not to oppose, but to ap- ly found delights of home, he failed to inquire tardy blossoms of the locusts and the tulip-tree 
prove what she said, In the outset we “confess- the fate of a certain wooden box, which, before are drenching the air with delicious sweetness 
ed the truth,” but gave, as we think, a sufficient his departure, he had entrusted to the care of then stirs the oak. Little brown things are 
reason for the existing state of things. There is a relative, with the strictest injunctions as to its scattered over his great boughs, which in due 
spoil sibilities of the Teacher. Surely the most ed Ihe tiuth, but gave, as we think, a sufficient his departure, he had entrusted to the care of then stirs the oak. Lit 
powerless who guide the steps of youth, direct reason ^ or the existing state ot things. I here is a relative, with the strictest injunctions as to its scattered over his great 
Rut you are sadly mistaken, dear, if you fancy 
us a dull, moping set; on the contrary, our daily 
associations are cheering aud delightful, surround¬ 
ed as we are by beauty and elegance. At this 
moment our parterre is adorned by the presence 
of my favorites, the Misses Rose, and their nu¬ 
merous admirers—foremost of whom is that gay 
Yet may we feel tlie smile of Heaven is won 
By blessed consciousness of duty done.” Essie. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
MY OLD SPELLING BOOK. 
usage, declares that the negative shall have the rarest jewels ! It was opened, and what was What stands at the corner of yon wood, swath- 
“ closing argument. v Audubon's dismay to perceive the misfortune ed in a mantle of the true imperial! Crimsons 
We differ as to th ecause of .acts-not in regard which had befallen it. A pair of Norway rats and yellows and golden brownsare flashing all 
facts themselves Carrie’s error (if she be m having taken possession and appropriated it, around him, as though there were a carnival 
moment our parterre is adorned by the presence my _ lsuuh. error, as we think,) consists in substituting the had reared there a whole party. A few gnawed | among the trees but no hue is brighter tl a 
of my favorites, the Misses Rose, and their nu- { some papel ,, to-day, placed m for ^ ^-and vie*versa She errs in bits of paper were the only remains of what, that of th? brave old oak in Ins robe of roy'td 
merous admirers—foremost of whom is that gay 1 little i dreamed how dear it would try nig tomake the worse app&r the better “ Rea- few months before had been a thousand mar- purple. And he is in no more haste to let that 
become after the days of my childhood had fold- “ n ; . . ^ at , if Ue “'^briefly-The vellous representations of the curious inhabi- robe of his go than in donning it. When the 
ed themselves away in the great book of the Past. T °“ l '! ^ ^ LUa nuac er o oung en. tants of the air ! The shock of such a calamity shrieking blasts have torn its mantle from every 
Well worn it certainly is, but bright memories 11 iC1 a “ AKUE Ra s a ( ei -coin- was too much e\ en for the fortitude of Aububon. other tree, the oak still clings to his as if he 
lie on every leaf, soiled and torn though it may elS ’ aaon us c01)ce jfo simpletons. Like an elechic stroke it thrilled his whole said to those shrieking blasts, “I defy your 
be, and they lead me back to “by-gone” scenes “ brainless f°P s ’'’ ‘‘ Uy ' fi " e J red ’ effeminate Lil- nervous system, and for some time caused the fury I” When the snow-bird comes twittering 
-to the worn threshold and knife-hacked bench- bputians’’<fcc ; , <tc. “And Zoab said unto Amas- entire prostration of his physical powers. A among the woods to tell them the snow will 
es of our dear “old school house on the hill,” as SA ’ Art ™ U ‘ he “ th ’ brotller ? a,ld w,lile burning beat rusbed tb ™ugh bis brain on the shortly be showering loose pearl all through 
nothing else can. That name on the blank leaf be sabded e scw . im ” Carrie “lakes us discovery, the discovery of the entire wreck of their gaunt domains, the oak yet clings to his 
—how well I remember the plump hand that b Y tbe beard to kiSS us, and, and at the same the result of all his efforts and his patience!— mantle, blanched and tattered though it be._ 
wrote it, and the red lips that said “you must time stabs us undci the fifth rib. The substance 1’or nights he could not sleep, and days were High amid the snow drifts, from amid the blasts, 
never forget me.” I lmve not forgotten vou, 0111 be ply’ was briefly this : Young ladies passed with listless apathy, till at length in- the pale, crackling leaves still cling, with noth- 
Katie, and the hot tears come at thought of a are in a ve, Y S reat degreeuesponsible for the in- vigoration of mind and frame gradually, under ing in the wide, bleak woods to keep their 
mound in our church-yard, under whose sods telleetual and moial character of young men,— kindly influences, returned. He once again company save here and there a shivering linger- 
that hand lies over a pulseless heart—moldering because their will is our pleasure, and obedience to to °b U P bis pencils, his note-book, and his gun, er upon the beech tree. Often it is only when 
to dust. tbeir wisbes a law of our nature. aud went forth to the woods. Then consoling their successors come “to push them from their 
I remember, too, the long talks we used to b>ut to the ‘Reason.” Carrie says:—“We himself with the reflection that he could make stools” that the old leaves quit the gallant oak 
have by the graves of our dead brothers, and our bttle dreamed that the Lords of Creation,’ with much bettei diaviugs than before, he persever- and lie down to perish. So a health to the oak. 
child-wondering if they were “really up above their ‘nobility of nature,’ ‘strength of intellect,' and ed untiringly for three whole years, until his —Alfred B. Street. 
us, in the blue sky with Jesus.” We wondered Acknowledged (by whom ?) superiority,’ would portfolio was replenished l—Audubon, the Mai- -—- 
if we should ever go to them, and if we should be charge the‘weaker sex’(I never called them the _ _ The Shakers—Their Number, Origin and 
iiovering around them the greater pai t of the 
morning, displaying his elegant apparel to his cd themsehes away in the gieatboo^. of the Past. j n h er « Talk,” Carrie calls us all her “ Rroth- 
j ess gaily attired rivals. The Misses Lilly are c v ‘ oin 1 ccr am ) ]S » n 1 memones erg » auc j an0 n terms us “ conceited simpletons” 
e (Wi,. lie on even’leaf, soiled and torn though it may , ’ . . . ^ 
gracefully bending tbeir sylpli-like forms, as if 
acknowledging the compliments of their unpre¬ 
tending companions, the pretty little Misses Dai¬ 
sy, who are setting on the velvet sward by their 
side,—and that saucy, capricious Miss Vine is 
actually trying to surprise me by creeping in at 
the “square-room,”—I beg pardon, parlor win¬ 
dow,—where she has been coquetting for some 
time. I have lately volunteered to take her un¬ 
der my own especial training, but she is so per¬ 
verse that, much against my inclination, I am 
obliged iu a great measure to let her have her 
own way. I should be glad to see her rather less 
lie on every leaf, soiled and torn though it may 
be, and they lead me back to “by-gone” scenes 
—to the worn threshold and knife-hacked bench¬ 
es of our dear “old school house on the hill,” as 
a her “ Talk,” Carrie calls us all her “ Broth- was too much even for the fortitude of Aububon. 
-s,” aud anon terms us “ conceited simpletons,” Like an electric stroke it thrilled his whole 
brainless fops,” “lily-fingered, effeminate Lil- nervous system, and for some time caused the 
, , , v have l)v the oraves of our dead brothers aud our Aitxie cof/icu iiiul tnc J-ioicisoi L/reation, "with 
aspiring and more manageable; but she hates u y ^ giaves oi our ueau oiouius, ana oui , , .. . 
restraint aud loves to follow her own inclinations, child-wondering if they were “ really up above H,v whom It ^ ° f . f’ 
wayward though they be, and in spile of all her us > in the blue sky with Jesus.” We wondered acknowledged (by vhom .) superiority would 
whims and fancies I cannot help admiring her if we should ever go to them, and if we should be chaigethe weaker sex (I never called them the 
natural elegance. Although so far removed from ha PPY there? You haTC g° ne - Katie < aud m Y “ weaker sex ’ > " ltb being the so.e cause of all 
the Court of Dame Fashion, yet, after a way of heart grows weary sometimes, and longs for the tbeir transgressions. It must have been all a 
our own, we are 
re‘somewhat of fashionists, and for rest tbafc yonrs has found. But, I have work to dream. We do not charge them with being the 
alut • The Shakers—Their Number, Origin and 
FORMATION OP CHAKACTEK D°°™K«--The number of Shaker Societies 
_ ‘ now in this country is eighteen, located in 
It is an old saying, and one of fearful and seven different States. There are none in any 
the past season the prevailing color has been a d0 Y et » wnen it is done J. snail come to you. 
bright, cheerful green,—but I have observed late- Aud th ese pencil marks,—I remember that we 
ly, especially among the Pasture family, aud used to make them opposite all the “hard words,” 
do yet; when it is done I shall come to you. sole, but the principal cause. Again: “ Woman fathomless import, that we are forming charac- f° re ig n country. The denomination was found- 
And these pencil marks,—I remember that we has been taught for ages to believe that she has ters for eternity. Forming characters !_whose? ed through the instrumentality of a female, Ann 
used to make them opposite all the “hard words.” ho business with a soul,” <fcc. Ah! and she has our own? or others? both: and in that, mn. ^‘ ee> wbo was born in 1736. She was intro- 
ly, especially among the Pasture family, aud used to make them opposite all the “hard words,” no business with a soul,” <fcc. Ah! and she has our own? or others? both; and in that mo- boe > who was born in 1736. She was intro- 
tliey are of great importance in the neighbor- just before we had a “ spelling school,” and bow conned the lesson well. She wrongs herself by mentous fact lies the peril and responsibility of duced ’ as sbe believed, into the spirit world, 
hood, a preference for a more sober hue. Our so- earnestly we studied them, that our school might obeying such teaching—by tacitly consenting our existence. Who is sufficient for the thought? and received communications from Christ and 
efotv has I regret to say, suffered quite a loss notb e the one “spelled down.” that it is true. Suppose men have taught thus, thousands of my fellow-beings will yearly en- Moses > fr °m whom sbe received instruction in 
foom the absence of the Fruit family. We have Ab me, those days are all “past and gone” now. it is no evidence that it is so; but Carrie seems ter eternity with characters differing from those regard to tbe principles of the dispensations 
generally received a visit from them about this 1 wonder if I shall ever be as happy again as I to favor the adage that “a — well stuck to is as they would have carried thither had I never wb ich they ushered in. The Shakers hold that 
rime, and they were always welcomed as very used to be, when I went home from school at good as the truth.” lived. The sun-light of that world will reveal tbere have been four dispensations of God to 
pleasant additions to our social gatherings,—in- uight, with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and the We know there should be much indulgence for my finger marks in their primary formations, man,—the first beginning with Adam, and ex- 
deed we hardly know how to replace them, but news that I bad “gone above three,” or had been the past. Men have usurped the government,— aud in their successive strata of thought and fcendlDg to Abraham; the second extendinn 
we hope to see them next season. 
Let me, dear Laura, invite you to be present A(d baAe wandeied to 
placed in a higher class. Perhaps not, here, for have made and executed the laws,—yea, have life. And they, too, will form other characters Aom Abraham to Jesus; the third from Jesus 
at one of our Oratorios, with the blue heavens for 
our canopy, and ’mid the perfumery of the most 
lovely flowers, True, we have no midnight ser- 
my feet have wandered to made laws governing woman, regulating her for eternity, until the influence of my existence Ann bee > and the fourth irom Ann Lee on- 
“ Where the brook aud river meet, property, and disposing of her offspring, and this shall be diffused through all future generations ward- dke drs ^ Society was established in 
W omanhood and childhood fleet.” too without giving her any voice in the matter.— of the world, and through all that shall be fu- 1732, near Albany. 
But I have hope and a firm trust that “ by-and- The portals of our higher schools and colleges ture to a certain point in the world to come._ m p "V~*T~u ~ 
Kiveiy nowers, irue, we nave uu umungnu ser- T - . * -r - - --------— Trttjt PnriTvwwsa_T m-H . 
enades, for our amateur performers set their faces b y I shall go above sin, and pain, and sorrow have hitherto been closed against her. Menhave As a little wavery, circular ripple, set in motion « t u p , ipro ; a l ef f > i 7 \ 
very decidedly against fashionable hours, but the ~ tbat tb ® great All-Father will give me a place monopolized all the “ professions”—have secured, by the falling pebble, expands from its inch of , • ,. P , ... , e , . ° >e ' nowu b y 
morning is ushered in with heart-thrilling melody. m tbe “ higher class” of His Kingdom. bylaws of their own, eveiy office of honor or radius to the whole compass of the pool, so • - P 10 t’ tG ^ 1°° J ° 61ng . a e to com .* 
But I must tell you of the excitement which_ t r l len o . emolument—have blocked up nearly every ave- there is not a child—not an infant Moses, «benevolence in trifles ’ or the r f f tl 
prevailed in tins locality early in the summer- Hippr HoME-Hamilto. says that sirr thiags »«•••,«*»• bs * u in » P^ed, however softly, iu his bulrush ark uporr ers to oureelves ia the’little WIvocourreucei 
O voriAyf TTToo in A xnnlof J o oroqf Hnrvroa hlnTYiolocQ Knf nn nco elm ntmo thP GPfl nf limp. whnQP PYicfon/>o rionp nnf J 
But I must tell you of the excitement which 
prevailed in this locality early in the summer.— 
prise it. I would, however, venture to call it 
‘ benevolence in trifles,’ or the preference of oth¬ 
ers to ourselves in the little hourly occurrences 
Somdotv-or-other a report was m circulatron are requisite to make home happy. Integrity JgrecUameless. But unless she »o» nses the sea of time, whose existence does not stir a of life It is a perpetual attention to the little 
winch anticipated the failure of Iters. Maiss, musl bo ttc architect, and Tidiness the nriroi- upm ' B !; ° f , h f r m T ?’ and , br °° kS tbe (TP 1 "’ out ™ oncl “ sM1 want, of those with whom wo are, b T which 
and as almost every family here ,s more or less sterer . It m „ 8t be warmed by Affection and yoW will not be. The pen, the press the have moved across and spanned the whole attention wo either prevent or remove them- 
interested m then success, you may imagine how Indost ^ be tbe ventilator, renewing the atmos- r ° om ’’“ d T" 1° h<!r ' ? n ‘ r . 8 tl f n f e T“ tbe Bowing coromoniesf formal compliments stiff 
the matter was discussed. Wise heads were n v»iTO nnri coi„E»:i-w i i j her throw off “retiring modesty and “natural of life and the fountains at which his angels • tu „ ... r ,, , 
-.1 , , trap paeie and bunging Iresh salubrity day by day; , „ , , , b . J , „ , . , „ ... 6 civilities, will never be politeness; that must 
shaken, and ominous words were spoken, but af- wbile over al ,, as , protecting eanop/and glo- ^' 70 /'and demand jus tce, though he “heay- drmk.-£M» BmrrUt. b3 n atural, unstudied ; and what wi 
Eure have assumed a brighter aspect, and I heheve „ ot hinir will suffice errmnt. the „r «” sM - let her define her “ sphere andffllit -—- this but. . „i.j .. 
the matter was discussed. Wise heads were phere and bringing frcsl, salubrity day by day 
shaken, and ominous words were spoken but af- wbilc OTer al ,_ M a protecli canopy and glo-’ 
Iiqytzi oaonmnH n nvifynrAr noriODt nriH I hDlioTT/s - . _ __ 1 J ° 
fairs have assumed a brighter aspect, and I believe „ n fhin g 
Messrs. Maize have been restored to the confi- qJj 
- deuce of the community. 
I must close this epistle by assuring you that Happines: 
we find it very possible to be happy amid the to the good. 
ry, nothing will suffice except the blessing of w , .. . . ^ . . , „ , - -.^uuve 
God. We believe she is capable of doing both. Never Oonnin, speaking of Madame de Stael, who to exert that amiable disposition in trifles to all 
—-- heed the cries of “strong-minded, but make was by no means handsome, but a splendid you converse and live with ?” 
Happiness is not promised to the learned, but them true. Yes, and we will lend a “helping conversationalist, said that she “had the power _ 
bo easy, natural, unstudied; and what will 
give this but a mind benevolent, and attentive 
hand,” and bid you a hearty “God speed,” in I of talking herself into a beauty.” 
Truth is the only bond of friendship. 
