MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
%Mm’ icrt-ffllifl. 
CONDUCTED BY AZIDE. 
DOES HE LOVE ME? 
BY iNNK CHAMBERS BRADFORD. 
Pretty robin at my window, 
Welcoming tbe day 
With thy loud and liquid piping, 
Read my riddle, pray ! 
I have conned it, waking, sleeping, 
Vexed tbe more, for aye— 
Thou’rt a wizard, pretty robin, 
Does he love me, say ? 
Little violet, blooming meekly 
By the brooklet free, 
Bending low thy gentle forehead 
All its grace to see, 
Turn thee from the listening water, 
Whisper soft, I pray, 
For the winds might hear my secret— 
Does he love me, say ? 
Star, that through the silent night-time 
Watchest over him, 
Write it with thy golden pencil 
On my casement dim. 
Thou art skilled in love’s cabala, 
Tell me, then, I pray, 
Now, so none but I may read it, 
Does he love me, sav ? 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
THE LOST FOUND; 
OR, A RESPONSE TO “WHERE ARE THEY 1 ?” 
I guess if our friends (for we cannot refrain 
from calling them so,) take the trouble to inves¬ 
tigate they will ascertain that there were in old 
©fruit* 
times fashions as foolish as at present. And if 
there are any ladies in our land that cannot re¬ 
ceive calls without a flurry, or apologies, or 
blushes, I hope their friends will call oftener, 
so that they may become accustomed to wait¬ 
ing upon company—and I presume in a short 
time they would do it systematically, for you 
know “practice makes perfect.” 
I am astonished that any one would admit, 
or even think, that the young men now-a-days 
are so narrow-minded as to be captivated by 
flounces and puff combs and flowing sleeves.— 
And I never heard before that the highest ob¬ 
ject for which a young lady should live is to 
attract some “ unexceptionable” young man.— 
Have they no other mission than this ? This, 
I declare, must be a noble mission. It is asked> 
“ Do we ever think about destiny—for what 
purpose we were created ?” Yes, we have 
thought seriously upon the subject, and we did 
not conclude that our most holy oflice on earth 
was to labor to attract the attention of some 
“unexceptionable” young man. We had sup¬ 
posed that we had a much higher and holier 
mission, and which would bring to us far great¬ 
er honor—that of doing good. And we are en¬ 
deavoring, as far as our means will allow, to 
educate and enlighten our minds, so that we 
may be better prepared to perform our mission. 
For we approve of girls having an education, 
__ although if one makes the attempt, it is said, 
In glancing over the Rural a few weeks “What is the use of your studying so much? 
since, my eye rested upon an article entitled —you know enough now. Do you suppose 
“Where are they ?" Having read a few lines, that you can wash dishes any better after you 
I knew very well that it was one of those have learned all the theories concerning our 
charming pieces that are indeed so interesting earth, how each strata is placed, or all that can 
to the girls now-a-days—always and forever be learned with respect tp the solar system— 
telling what girls once lived. Why, you would or can translate Latin with ease—or have stud- 
think from the description that the generation ied Geometry so that you can tell a triangle 
of girls that existed in ages past, must have from a parallelopcpcdon?" Is not this consoling? 
been allied to angels, while those of the present I must say it is exceedingly so to a poor girl 
day were even worse than Eve herself, for she, who is trying to gain some knowledge of the 
they would admit, had some good qualities, world. As far as I have had experience, 
while the poor girls have not one. (though it is little, to be sure, for I am not a 
Here it is “What has become of all the vei 7 oWwoman yet,) I should presume that a 
modest, quiet, home-loving young ladies we b *-tle education would not make her any the 
used to see, and read of now occasionally ?”— ^ ess particular about washing her dishes, espe- 
Really, I suppose that those young ladies must c ‘ ad N ^ sbe bas 8tucbed Physiology, for then 
be either dead or old women by this time. But she would know that su P erfluous matter re ' 
we think there are very many to be found, maining upon her dishes was not conducive to 
throughout all parts of the Union, that will an- beadth ’ 
swer to the description given in the article It is also asked, “ How many of us have heard 
mentioned. And the greatest wonder to me is, of the advice of a sensible old bachelor?”— 
where that person can reside who does not’ev- man y» I presume, lor I hope there are 
ery day meet with a sweet, kind sister, a re- none 80 ig u01 ' ant (as much as is said against 
spectful daughter, ever ready to lend a helping girls k,10win S an Y thiD g>) b «t that they have 
hand, and desiring to make herself useful in heard and read repeatedly the excellent advice 
some way, by ministering to the necessities of < l uoted ‘ But 1 would like b) ask Ike writer of 
the poor or cheering the aged by her constant Said al ' tic „ le ^ 1S 1 COn ? de “ t that Peter was a 
diligence to do all in her power for their com- bacb<dor ? Methinks the Scriptures say that 
fort and relief Christ healed Peter’s wife’s mother, who was 
Again, the idea is conveyed that mostof girls 8 * ck <d a <ever " Aud ^ caa assure him that 
would like to have it understood that “ Ma there are many g.rls to be found in all parts of 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
WINTER. 
BY W M . G. MKACHKM. 
Winter’s the year’s dull, dismal night, 
When all things wear a common hue, 
When Sol withholds his genial light, 
When falls the feath’ry, snowy dew, 
When stillness wraps the earth around— 
A mantle without rent of sound. 
Winter is Nature’s soft repose 
From toils and heats of summer day, 
Her nightly vesture, spotless snows, 
Her counterpane, the season’s gray, 
Her canopy, the vaulted sky, 
The north-west wind, her lullahy. 
Upon her couch, the spacious earth, 
O’er-curtained by the leaden clouds, 
Her wearied limbs she stretches forth, 
And Morpheus soon her fair form shrouds: 
She slumbers till the spring’s dawn-ray 
Drives from her lids dull sleep away. 
From soft, refreshing rest she wakes 
To light of roseate, vernal morn, 
Her pillowy fantasies forsakes 
Of wild imagination born. 
Renewed in strength, she rears again 
The leaf, the flow’r, the tender grain. 
Winter is Nature’s lethargy. 
Insensate, motionless she lies ; 
She breathes, ’tis true, but passively ; 
Her ears are stopped and sealed her eyes; 
Her mind now bathes in Lethe's stream ; 
Her past luxuriance, a dream. 
Winter is Nature's hideous trance 
Enveloping her in its folds ; 
How like her death, at casual glance I 
With equal grasp its victim holds. 
But spring shall loose that dread embrace, 
Re-animate her limbs, her face. 
Winter is Nature’s annual death 
Succeeding autumn’s hoary head ; 
Chilled by the monster’s frosty breath, 
Vitality fore'er has fled. 
Her cold and stiffened form lies still, 
The meadow, forest, valley ^ hill. 
How deathly pale, her snowy face 1 
The rose-blush from her cheek has gone, 
And vanished all her b auty, grace ; 
Her lake-eyes lustreless and wan ; 
Her summer smiles of matchless bloom 
Exchanged tor blankness of cold gloom. 
The sun and moon their features veil. 
And starry host, with sable cloud, 
The doleful winds sad requie wail, 
O'er Nature wrapped iu Nature’s shroud. 
Unto her grave at last she’s borne 
’Till breaks her resurrection’s morn. 
At op’ning dawn of vernal day 
Kind Nature’s slumb’ring dusts all rise, 
Revivified her lifeless clay 
By light and warmth of genial skies. 
Her vigor, bloom again she’ll share. 
The tender leaf and blade uprear. 
Warsaw, October, I860. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Vorker. 
THE POWER OP FASHION. 
would like to have it understood that “Ma there are man y & r] * to bo ful,nd iu a11 P arte of . F f 8DKMr “ a ^ ru ' e * with a re * 
keeps a hired ghl, and we take music lessons » ouv couutry who have and weai ' coa t>nually the lenlless sway. She seeks not her subjects 
1 • it wmiLi i i ornament of “ a meek and quiet spirit.” among the low, but the proud, the rich, aud 
1 r uk>p,.w<m 
nearer the truth if it had said they would like 
to have it known that they did all the woik 
and take music lessons beside. It appears t hat 
our friends who have such a dislike to our tak- 
DROPS OP COMPOST. 
maud. At her beck, comfort and convenience 
are laid aside, modesty is overstepped, economy 
, . T , , , „ , and frugality give place to lavishness and pro- 
our friends who have such a dislike to our tak- If we can exercise the confidence of that fusion- of the rich she make8 bankrupts-of 
ing music lessons must have forgotten entirely little child on the sea, who, while the ship was the sbe makes spen dthrifts-of the wise 
what charms music possesses-how sacred,how rocked with wild fury by the winds, said se- sbe makeg fooR Fashion ia a tyrant. She 
solemn. What more delightful than, as fami- renely, with a smile on its Ups, but no tear in ruleg , H er kingdom is the world. Men, 
lies gather round the altar, morn and eve, to his eye “My father is at the helm I we shall d> 8 t r0 ng-mtoded men, bow to her. Wo- 
listen to the music. Then no father, brother or never be disturbed by the clouds and storms ^ kneel at her shrine. Young men and 
listener would regret that the daughter had which gather around us. Even the bitterest maideD8 are her captives . S he has a thousand 
been allowed the privilege of cultivating her afflictions are recognized as blessings when we ^ ^ which to entrap-a’thousand cords 
musical talent. Or what adds more to the sane- know they are from a Father s hand. They are witWlich to bind them. The gilt bands and 
titv of woiship in our own churches than good medicines necessary to our health. They are ,, , , , , .? . „ 
J r , ,, . J „ the golden shreds—how strong they are 1 See 
music? clouds to shelter us from the dangerous sun of . , ,, .. F ., ... 
. . . . . , . , how willingly the captive submits—without a 
We have borne patiently all the “blazing prosperity, showers to refresh us in a summer s . , T . • ... 
.. . . * J . , b 11 ’ . . . , 0 struggle. It is like caging a lion with wire, 
away at city girls, because we consoled our- noon. What is a picture without shades?— ,, . , . , , , .. 
* i• ii iv . . i j i f i jl on liolct him by ho.bit. 
selves that they did nt mean us. But as they (Jlouds enrich and adorn a landscape. Perpet- , , , 
B J J , .. w ,.1 V 1 . , , V hat foolishness, and nonsense, and absur- 
give the farmers daughters throughout our ual sunlight weather, and the freshness aud fra- ... . . e , . , . , , ,, 
g ° . ,. 6 f . . .... ... dity there is in fashion when carried to the 
country such a false representation, we thought grance of a dewy evening are hailed with glad- , r. ■ n i ... 
, ... , , N . „ ,,, 6 f , extreme. It is all proper and commendable 
we would like to have them informed that there ness after the “long sunny lapse of a summer s ^ ^ ghouW wear coat8 when coats „ are in 
are still existing modest, quiet home-loving daylight. Afflictions are W to the Christian fashion „ 0 f this we do not complain. But 
young ladies. I should real y like to know even when the heart is almost bursting with the foU lie8 in the “ cut of the coat.” In the 
what our friends want the girls now-a-days to grief for he is assured ha the pain is inflicted the waiste are short , the skirt8 are 1m 
do? As I see they have some antipathy to by a kind Father and for the profit of his child. tl * e sleeves are large, and the collar is high.- 
music, I presume the very prompt reply would In the darkest hour he hears the precious asser- Du - tbo Summer the change is 8light . But 
W +I.O.V 1 fn -ronvlr ” Tl.if .-I/. rr,n firm_“Whom thfi T.orri lovptll lip p.hncfonof.K ” . ° 
be, “We want them to work.” But do we not tion—“Whom the Lord lovetli he ckasteneth,” 
work, and are we not willing to w T ork ? Cer- and the entreaty “ Let not your heart be 
tainly we are 
troubled.” When we are in the depths of pov- 
But it is sung out, “ Fou don't work as girls can we not remember Him who feeds the * must have a Iiew coat in ' the ne , 
used to." I wonder if any one does as people raveus ^ hen C U> and clothes the lilies t t . And he who has nofc mo must 
« T-v v . i , .i>wl oVi o 11 Tiro , Aiihf Ilia tin linrvnDoa to rv-» i J J 
in the Fall the waist is long, the skirts are 
short, the sleeves are small, and the collar is 
low. Every man who thinks he has money to 
spare, must have a new coat in the newest 
used to in ’76 ? Do the men and bojs of our a “d « ba11 we doubt his willingness to minister ^ caQ be done credit . ' No mat(er 
land do as they used to ? Methinks if they do, to our necessit.es ? When we are homeless, we what . g the man - 8 build or shape> his coal must 
this cannot be styled an age of improvement. cau hear a v0ice w 118 P enB &- “ Jn ra )' Father 8 b e in the latest fashion. Form and figure are 
Have they no kind of machinery by which la- house are many mansions. I go to prepare a Qut of the question—fashion must be followed. 
what can be done upon credit. No matter 
what is the man’s build or shape, his coat must 
Have they no kind of machinery by which la- house are ma f/ maB810a8 - - 1 go to prepare a 
bor can be accomplished with great facility ?— place for you. 
But what improvements are there to facilitate ^ we are friendless, without an earthly friend, 
the labor of women ? What would be the use of do we Dot read ’ “ there is a friend lhafc 8tickelh 
T£ 9 „ . ,, ... . If the fashion is long, his must be long—if 
II we are friendless, without an earthly friend, , ... , , , , .... , , 
, i short, his must be short—if small, his must be 
small. 
Take one example for all. See the tall, slim 
man in his short-waisted coat. The skirts are 
having a sewing machine in every house?— doser than a brother. “Hove them that love Talie one example for all. See the tall, slim 
Why, the girls that owc« lived did their own me W hen we are assailed b Y enemies— maQ in }ds 8 h ort - wa isted coat. The skirts are 
sewing 1 But if a man wants a mowing ma- when our characters are aspersed—our motives sefc oq . gt bel()W hig armS) and hang i oose ly 
chine, “ Oh, yes, get one every year or two, for maligned—our conduct vilified our best efforts about him> If tbe coat were an old onej worn 
they are an improvement—the men will not condemned, may we not, in a Christian spirit, fcbread . bare kow bad it would appear; but it 
have to work so hard.” say, “Shall not God avenge his own elect? , g new> and in the late8t 8ty]e . ^ neverthe . 
This is all perfectly nght-we don’t com- “ ihe beart knoweth its own bitterness, and . g there Bymmetry anJ fitness, and beauty 
plain. But, as I said, what do you want the there are sorrows which must be endured with- ^ , fc ? N ^ of the8e . it is all fasllion Z 
girls to do ? Would you like to have them spin out sympathy and m solitude ; but is there a nothing more nor less . You wouldn’t say, upon 
and weave? Yes, perhaps you would say, you g nef 111 whlch our 1<atber wfil not sympathize? hoB that the coat was made for the man—he 
would much rather they would do this than to ? 8 a sorrow which cannot be whispered hag foUBd ifc somew bere,and got into it, or hung 
be “traipsing” in tbe street, or poring over 18 ear 8 18 ear H,lv > t at it cannot upon his shoulders—aud it hangs upon him 
their books, or playing on the piano. Well, I \ “ l8 , Hl8arm shortened, that He Uk / a coaf on a bean pole _ as ^ as a 
presume if you were a farmer, and had a plenty cannot save . No. There is no sonow that poUtician - 8 priliciples> Imlac. 
of nice wool, and if a daughter should ask for H e cannot cure, no wound that He cannot heal. __ 
it upon his shoulders—aud it hangs upon him 
like a coat upon a bean pole—as “loose ” as a 
politician’s principles. Imlac. 
Experience teaches us indulgence ; the wisest 
some of it to spin and weave into cloth, not a Let us then repair to our heavenly Father in Experience teaches us indulgence ; the wisest 
particle could she get—for the cry would be, every dark, distressful hour, and remember that man is he who doubts his own judgment with 
“ It would be no profit; I want to sell my Wool he said, “ I will never leave thee nor forsake regard to the motives which actuate liis fellow 
for some 60 or 70 cts. a pound.” This may not thee.” And shall we not respond—“whom men. 
always be the case, but I know of some girls have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none -•#--#■- 
that find it difficult to keep wool enough for upon earth I desire besides thee.” No one should ever make a promise unless 
stocking yarn. - 1 ~~ 1 11 
No one should ever make a promise unless 
he looks well into the circumstances before- 
I wonder if, in old times, the girls never pat- The greatest misfortune of life is old age hand, and has every reason to believe that it 
ronized any foolish fashion, such as hoops, <fcc.? without the remembrance of virtue. 
will be in his power to fulfill his promise. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE FOREST IN AUTUMN. 
I have viewed many scenes that were preg¬ 
nant with material for thought, but none that 
have impressed me with greater force than 
have the forest trees in Autumn. The seasons, 
in their annual round, bring forth the blossoms 
and foliage that beautify and adorn the mon- 
archs of the wilderness ; but the closing sea¬ 
son divests the trees of their clothed beauty.— 
When viewing the perishing beauty of the for¬ 
est, how appropriate the lines of Bryant seem ; 
“ The melancholy days have come, the saddest of the 
year.” 
What seems more sad than the process of di¬ 
vesting the forest of its garniture ? The varie¬ 
gated colors of the dying leaves can but remind 
us of the death that awaits all mortals ; this 
earthly temple will change. It is a saddening 
sight. Mournfully the north wind bears the 
fluttering leaf afar from its native tree. Aud 
mournfully the wind of death wafts ihe spirit 
afar from its earthly friends. 
Withering Autumn, with its changing hues, 
marks the closing year. How solemn the 
warning. An annual warning that should not 
be without its influence. The dying year fur¬ 
nishes food for serious thought. It is a lesson 
for the mind, that deserves a just consideration. 
The influence is of a chastening character.— 
Let us improve upon the teachings of nature, 
as her lessons are displayed to our view in the 
autumnal forest scenes. c. 
Bark River, Wis., October, 1856. 
BUSINESS A DISCIPLINE. 
The life of a man of business gives his char¬ 
acter a pretty hard trial. Not only does it 
exercise his sagacity and prudence, but it puls 
his integrity to the severest test. He is sur¬ 
rounded by the selfishness of trade ; he sees 
men profit by cunning and fraud, and he is 
tempted to try his skill in artifice and decep¬ 
tion. Every day his honesty is tried in some 
way. He is thrown back upon his inward 
principles, and if his heart is hollow and de¬ 
ceitful, he will be sure to show it. And that 
man has reason to thank God, who has gone 
through a long course of business, through times 
of wild speculation and general bankruptcy, 
and goes down to the grave, with the never- 
shaken confidence of being an honest man. He 
who can see another making money by false 
representations, and never stoop to those tricks 
of trade, is fitting his own pure mind for a 
world that is more worthy of him. 
And yet a man cannot wholly escape these 
temptations. To do that he must needs go out 
of the wo: Id, or retire into solitude. He might 
indeed avoid all danger by shutting himself up 
within the walls of a convent, and so pass a life 
of outwatd sanctity, or lazy contemplation.— 
But the piety that is nursed iu cloisters is of a 
sickly gr >wth, compared with that which main¬ 
tains its integrity aud strong inducements to 
evil. It is not the will of God that we should 
retire apart to keep from contamination. Not 
in the deserts, but in the cities ; not in the her¬ 
mit’s cell, but among men, sharing the common 
lot, meeting temptation as it comes, are we to 
to form our character for eternity. 
Men ought to rejoice in a rigid discipline.— 
Whenever assailed by temptation, an opportu¬ 
nity is given them to conquer themselves, and 
so become nobler beiDgs. The most heroic vir¬ 
tues of the human character are brought out in 
this struggle with inborn selfishness, and with 
the cowardly examples of the world. Men of 
brave hearts ought to welcome the conflicts and 
buffetings of life. Every victory they gain 
will make them stronger, as the tempest which 
rocks and tears the mountain oak, causes it to 
strike down deeper into the earth, and to lift 
higher its majestic arms towards heaven.— New 
York Evangelist. 
THE YOUNG PRINTER. 
When quite a youth, Franklin went to Lon¬ 
don, entered a printing office, and inquired if 
he could get employment as a printer ? 
“Where are you from?” inquired the fore¬ 
man of him. 
“ America,” was the reply. 
“Ah 1” said the foreman, “from America? A 
lad from America seeking employment as a 
printer 1 Well, do you really understand the 
art of printing ? Can you set type ?” 
Franklin stepped to one of the cases, and in 
a very brief space, set up the following passage 
from the first Chapter of the Gospel by St. 
John : 
“Nathaniel saith unto him, can any good 
thing come out of Nazareth ? Philip saith unto 
him, come and see.” 
It was done so quickly, so accurately, and 
contained a delicate reproof, so appropriate and 
powerful, that it at once gave him character and 
standing with all in the office. 
Smiles and Frowns. — Which will you do — 
smile, aud make your household happy, or be 
crabbed, and make all those young ones gloomy, 
and the elder ones miserable 1 The amount of 
happiness you produce is incalculable, if you 
show a smiling face, a kind heart, and speak’ 
pleasant words. Wear a pleasant countenance ; 
let joy beam in your eyes, and love glow on 
your forehead. There is no joy like that 
which springs from a kind act or a pleasant 
deed ; and you will feel it at night when you 
rest, in the morning when you rise, and through 
the day when you are about your business.— 
Home Journal. 
There are many vices which do not deprive 
us of friends; there are many virtues which 
prevent our haviug any. 
NOV. 1. 
INDIRECT SUICIDE. 
1. Wearing of thin shoes and cotton stock¬ 
ings on damp nights, and in cool, rainy weather. 
Wearing insufficient clothing, and especially 
upon the limbs and extremities. 
2. Leading a life of enfeebling, stupid lazi¬ 
ness, and keeping the mind in an unnatural 
state of excitement by reading trashy novels. 
Going to theatres, parties and balls in all sorts 
of weather, in the thinnest possible dress.— 
Dancing till in a complete perspiration, and 
then going home, without sufficient over-gar¬ 
ments, through the cool, damp air. 
3. Sleeping on feather beds in seven-by- 
nine bedrooms, without ventilation at the top 
of the windows, and especially with two or 
more persons in the same small unventilated 
bedroom. 
4. Surfeiting on hot and very stimulating 
dinners. Eating in a hurry, without half mas¬ 
ticating the food, and eating heartily before 
going to bed every night, when the mind and 
body are exhausted by the toils of the day and 
the excitement of the evening. 
5. Beginning in childhood on tea and coffee, 
and going from one step to another, through 
chewing and smoking tobacco, and drinking 
intoxicating liquors. By personal abuse, and 
physical and mental excesses of every descrip¬ 
tion. 
6. Marrying in haste and getting an uncon¬ 
genial companion, and living the remainder of 
life to mental dissatisfaction. Cultivating jeal¬ 
ousies and domestic broils, and being always 
in a mental ferment. 
7. Keeping children quiet by giving pare¬ 
goric and cordials, by teaching them to suck 
candy, and by supplying them with raisins, 
nuts, and rich cake. When they are sick, by 
giving them mercury, tartar emetic and arsenic, 
under the mistaken notion that they are medi¬ 
cines and not irritant poisons. 
8. Allowing the love of gain to absorb our 
minds, so as to leave no time to attend to our 
health. Following an unhealthy occupation 
because money cau be made by it. 
9. Tempting the appetite with bitters and 
niceties when the stomach says No, and by 
forcing food into it when nature does not de¬ 
mand, and even rejects it. Gormandizing be¬ 
tween meals. 
10. Contriving to keep to a continual worry 
about something or nothing. Giving way to 
fits of anger. 
11. Being irregular in all our habits of sleep¬ 
ing aud eating. Going to bed at midnight aud 
getting up at noon. Eating too much, loo 
many kinds of food, and that which is too 
highly seasoned. 
12. Neglecting to take proper care of our¬ 
selves, and not apply early for medical advice 
when disease first appears. Taking celebrated 
quack medicines to a degree of making a drug 
shop of the body. 
13. The above causes produce more sickness, 
suffering, and death, than all epidemics, mala¬ 
ria, and contagion, combined with war, pesti¬ 
lence and famine. Nearly all who have at¬ 
tained to old age have been remarkable for 
equanimity of temper, correct habits of diet, 
drink, and rest—for temperance, cheerfulness, 
and morality. Physical punishment is sure 
to visit the trausgressor of nature’s laws. All 
commit suicide, and cut off many years of their 
natural life, who do not observe the means of 
preventing disease and of preserving health.— 
Selected. 
THE FRUIT TREE AND ITS ROOTS. 
PoLvnoRUS, a heathen youth, had left the 
errors of Idolatry, and received the Word of 
Truth with a believing heart. As he con¬ 
demned his former wanderings amidst the lust 
of heathenism, he took refuge iu solitude, and 
closed his heart to every enjoyment of nature, 
and of life. For he said, “The flesh lusteth 
against the spirit, therefore I will destroy the 
power of the senses, and close the entrance to 
all outward temptations.” Then came Justus, 
his master, who had converted him, and lead¬ 
ing him to a tree which, planted by a rippling 
stream, bore blossoms and fruit, spake to him 
thus;—“Behold this tree, Polydorus I God has 
set it before us as an example, that we should 
be rich in good fruits.” And the youth beheld 
the tree, and said, “ Happy is the tree ! With¬ 
out any struggles with the flesh, it silently ful¬ 
fils its important mission, and brings forth in its 
time blossoms and fruit.” The old man smiled, 
and replied, “Would it not have been more 
perfect without the humble roots ? They creep 
in the dark earth, and drink their muddy food 
from the brook.” “ But,” answered the youth, 
“they support the trunk of the tree, and provide 
it with sap for the blossoms and fruit.” Then 
the sage lifted up his voice and spake, “So do 
thou the same 1 Despise not the senses, the 
humble roots of life, but let them continue 
humble. Transform what they convey to thee 
into the blossoms and fruits of the Spirit. As 
the branches and twigs of the tree, so will thy 
thoughts and endeavors all turn towards Heav¬ 
en, and thou wilt be perfect with the Light of 
Truth.” Thus spake the aged Justus, and Poly¬ 
dorus forsook his hermitage, and wandered 
amidst nature, aud amongst men, instructing 
many by his word, and his example.— Krum- 
macher. 
Gentility is neither in birth, wealth, manner 
nor fashion—but iu mind. A high sense of 
honor, a determination never to take advantage 
of another, an adherence to truth, delicacy and 
politeness towards those with whom we have 
dealings, are its essential characteristics. 
Beauty, devoid of grace, is a mere hook with¬ 
out the bait. 
