MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
NOV. 15. 
Hafriejsf Ifltt-ffllii). 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE. 
For Moore b Rural New-Yorker. 
SHE DIED TOO SOON TO SAVE. 
BY FRANK FKKEQUILL. 
Inscribed to “ Azile. ” 
I had a sister long ago 
When tender years were mine, 
Ere yet my soul had come to know 
Or even dream of crime. 
She had seen four summers smile 
While I was yet a babe — 
She marked my infant growth the while, 
And watched me as I played. 
And as I blossomed into youth. 
My love unfolded too ; 
I loved my sister, loved the truth 
And loved the right to do. 
Then life was like a covert dream, 
The hours went laughing by— 
Dear guileless hours how far ye seem, 
Tour memory is a sigh. 
She led me with a tender look 
Or checked me with a tear. 
And virtue’s path I ne’er forsook 
While Mary still was near. 
But when my passions running mad 
Would drive me on to ill, * 
Or blind me as to good and bad 
And paralize my will, 
’Twas then I took that sister's hand — 
My heart within me bled, 
As to another, better Land 
Her angel-spirit fled. 
The earth-clods on her bosom piess, 
The grass grows o’er her grave— 
She came my early life to bless, 
But died loo soon to save. 
0 1 had she lived a longer time 
To win me from my ways, 
A brighter fate had then been mine, 
And more of happy days. 
Belleville, Jeff. Co., N. Y., 1866. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MY GRANDMOTHER; 
OR, DUTIES TO THE AGED. 
What tender recollections cluster round thy 
name, cherished friend of our childhood days ! 
WOMAN. 
There is beauty in the helplessness ol wo¬ 
man. The clinging trust which searches for 
extraneous support is graceful and touching.— 
Timidity is the attribute of her sex ; but to 
herself it is not without its dangers, its incon¬ 
veniences, and its sufferings. Her first effort 
at comparative freedom is bitter enough ; for 
the delicate mind shrinks from every unaccus¬ 
tomed contact, and the warm and gushing heart 
closes itself, like the blossom of the sensitive 
plant, at every approach. Man may at once 
determine his position, and assert his place; 
woman has hers to seek, and, alas ! I fear me, 
that however she may appear to turn a calm 
brow and a quiet lip to the crowd through 
which she makes her way, that brow throbs, 
and that lip quivers, to the last; until, like a 
wounded bird, she can once more wing her way 
to the tranquil home where the drooping head 
will be fondly raised, and the fluttering heart 
laid to rest. The dependence of woman in the 
common affairs of life is, nevertheless, rather 
the effect of custom than necessity. We have 
many and brilliant proofs that, where need is, 
she can be sufficient to herself, and play her 
part in the great drama of existence with credit, 
if not with comfort. The yearnings of her sol¬ 
itary spirit, the out-gushings of her shrinking 
sensibility, the cravings of her alienated heart, 
are indulged only in the quiet holiness of her 
solitude. The world sees not, guesses not, the 
conflict; and in the ignorance of others lies her 
strength. The secret of her weakness is hid- 
ilisnllaiiy. 
Written for Moore’B Rural New-Yorker. 
THE QUEEN OF OUDE. 
HOME ! SWEET HOME ! 
SUMMER IS GONE. 
[RS. PIDSLEY. 
Aye, summer is over, its beauty is gone, 
The roses are faded, their bright tints are flown,— 
The lilies are drooping, the violets sigh, 
And breezes of Autumn are sweeping the sky,— 
For Summer is gone. 
No more shall the flowers breathe forth their perfume, 
Their leaves they have folded in sadness and gloom ; 
And the silv’ry brook that glided aloDg, 
Now rushes in tur moil the pebbles among— 
For Summer is gone. 
The tall trees are bending their forms to the blast, 
For Summer, bright Summer is over and past-; 
The sweet birds are silent—their voices are hushed,— 
And the gay sportive insects with sorrow are crushed,— 
For Summer is gone. 
The children no longer shout forth in their glee, 
Whilst chasing the butterfly, hunting the bee ; 
The leaves of the forest sweep by on the gale, 
Bearing onward the tidings (how mournful the tale) 
That Summer is gone. 
Yes, Summer is gone,—all its splendor is o’er,— 
We bask in its sunshine, its glory no more,— 
Yet the bright star of Hope still points to the skies, 
Where flowers are unfading, where beauty ne’er dies, 
Though Summer is gone 1 
East Homer, N. Y. 
The English journals are filled with de- That wide, open, friendly fire-place, with 
scriptions of the arrival and landing of the royal its lively, crackling mirth, or its sweet twilight 
visitors from Oude, who have traveled nearly embers, always appear to me the meet emblem 
ten thousand miles to claim an investigation of a contented, great heart, answering back to 
into their grievances. Lucknow, the capital of your own joy, and lighting up your shadows. 
Oude, is about six hundred miles from Calcut- And sometimes, surrounded by strangers, the 
ta, and it is now six months since the royal object of dull remark, or cold criticism, or ig- 
party left their own country. The suite consists norant condemnation, how have I pictured to 
of princes, princesses, courtiers, aid-de-camp, myself a world of warmth like unto the great 
barbers, secretaries, gold and silver mace-bear- fire-place at home, where every man should be 
ers, musicians, bakers, butchers, cooks, <fcc., in greeted with “ welcome ! welcome, brother!” 
fact every one belonging to an Eastern royal and a comfortable, snug corner of his own ; and 
court and household. Many of the higher where all answer to each other with the sympa- 
castes have very intellectual countenances and thy and cheer of shining faces over the glow- 
heads ; and it is singular to se*, "imt-.? ing hearth. Look kindly on the stranger, 
amongst them whose physiognomy is decidedly gentle friend, thy looks are either so many 
Jewish. The princes, for the landing at South- sweet, sunny beams that betoken the common 
ampton, were most gorgeously dressed, being fellowship of humanity, or so many icy rays 
profusely adorned with jewels and precious that chill him to the heart—that freeze little 
stones. Every caste and every profession has by little the fountains of love—that fill him 
a different costume. The Queen was clothed with distrust of the world and hatred of his 
in a magnificent robe, similar to the princes, species. Ho man knows for how much of other 
with a head-dress aeforned with the bird of wickedness and wretchedness he may be held 
paradise. accountable. A look of thine may breed sor- 
Among the company is a curious looking row in thy brother, though a stranger. A look 
creature of gigantic stature, dressed partly in of thine may do a good deed, may shine from 
male and partly in female attire ; his fingers thy face to his face, and reflected, like a ray of 
are adorned with massive rings, and in his sun, over half the globe. 
hand he holds a large walking stick. 
Live, ye gentle scenes of home 1 Light up, 
solitude. The world sees not, guesses not, the ^aMEBICAN AUTHOR^"' the guardian of the bap em.. wh< > « reputed to ye pleasant fancies of the wood fire 1 Smile 
conflict; and in the ignorance of others lies her _ * be enormously wealthy. There is a Nubian in ever, ye dimpled portraits on the wall of child- 
strength. The secret of her weakness is hid- Although the American Republic can boast lbe su ite, immensely tall, and dressed in blue hood I Come in, ye sweet little breezes that 
en in e c ept s o ler own osom , an s e 0 f ^ut eighty years of National Independence; aud velvet, embroidered with gold. The Queen rustle through the cosy curtains, the blossoms 
moves on, ami t le aea an t le urr y o ex although the recollection of the time when her and princes landed at three in the afternoon.— of youth and the airy old cobwebs of memory 
istence, an wit a sea set upon ler nature, to pregent States were but a few Colonies under splendid carriages, drawn by four horses, are simmering in your light! Place may 
c ro en on y iy on . an ^ 0V1D t> ian 8 ’° r the rule of a foreign monarch still lingers in the were sent b Y the Mayor of Southampton, to change, friends come and go, hearts grow cold 
ci..so vec in t e tears o ieco\eie lome a - m j nc t 0 f her veteran citizens; though the ques- conve Y the Queen to the hotel. Surrounding or wear away beneath the drops of care till 
tion, “ Who reads an American Book,” has been ^ be 8 an 8 wa 7 were the chief officers of State they crumble and molder beneath the clod of 
* ‘ * sneeringly asked by some of our foreign con- belonging to the Court of Oude, dressed in the valley, but a pleasant home, where child- 
the three tra gedies oe friendship. temporaries, we can point to a group of brilliant magnificent robes, and holding the insignia of hood lives and loved, never dies. The memory 
There are in human life three tragedies of sta rs in the literary firmament, whose classic 0 ^ ce * A snow white screen was held up before thereof is a fortune, an indestructable faculty 
friendship. First, the deficiency of it—there minds and K or g eous productions would grace the g<mgway. Presently two figures, dressed of self-renewing joy. 
1 J i i i •. i , lilrp Rfrvnr.ian mnmmujo !irmonvnr] curl mol lmsJ • i_ _ t r n 
head-dress differs from all the others. This is yet brightest of the domestic hearth I Glow, 
the guardian of the harem, who is reputed to ye pleasant fancies of the wood fire! Smile 
dissolved in the tears of recovered home af¬ 
fection. — Selected. 
THE THREE TRAGEDIES OE FRIENDSHIP. 
is so much less than we want. Few are satis- an Y a £ e > wll<) 
fied with their share, or would be if they acknowledge 
thought and felt enough to know the depths of tbe hea 
their own hearts. “The friend is some fair, occupying th 
floating isle of palms, eluding us mariners in full Y entitled. Long before the present gener 
any age, whom any nation would be proud to bbe Egyptian mummies, appeared, and walked What is heaven itself but the renewal of the 
acknowledge. across the plank, their little naked feet in gaudy free hearts and delightful pleasures of ehild- 
At the head, is the mild and genial Irving, ^Uppers, turned up at the toes. These were hood’s home? A happy child looks forward to 
occupying the position to which he is so right- the chosen maids of honor of the Queen. After a happy home, above. The hireling initiated 
they were seated, the screen was thrown down, but too early in guilt and misery, or in misery 
and the palanquin was brought out. It consisted without guilt, he seldom hopes for better ac- 
— - , ,, the Pacific seas” Manv and manv a man ation of writers saw the light, Washington Ir- anatnepaianquinwas mougntout. itconsisted without guilt, he seldom hopes for better ac- 
How quickly the name of grandmother reaches b e rd,cluc 8eas- ^any ana many a man \ . . , , , of a chair enclosed in a slender frame whirh was i n f 
our ears leadinu us far back into the half for mi § ht si S h from his death-bed, “ I have pined b Y bis sublime, though simple and touch- 01 acnair enclosed in a slender Irame which was commodation at the journey s end ; and the 
gotten past when we all liuht-hearted and and P ra J ed a11 m Y life , and never found one ing works, had wrought for himself a world- covered with a splendid blue and silver robe - shadows of his childhood descend with him to 
Z "ob bSEl they J ti satisfy my heartaed the breast- reputatie. ; aad ... as the day of hU ‘ J ™ *>>« ^ persons m the the grave, 
iree, sat at nei ieet. un, dussiui nours tney j A lift, is drawing toa close inhis retreat, of “Sun- world have ever seen. A splendid scarlet urn- -- 
were-all too bright, too gladsome to be lasting! har P 0 millions, tuned to the same experience, Side” near the noble Hudson rendered brella was held over the palanquin. The diffi- JOHN ADAMS. 
Yes, the hours spent at grandma’s home, shed “ »«»“«l>oly epose through V 8 de near he nob e Hudson rendered P q 
„ , ' the halls of the world Secondlv the dpcavor classic and immortal by his genius, he still cul- culty of getting Her Majesty into the carriage 
a bright halo over the present. Her home was tne nans 01 me worm. &econaiy,me decay or J . 6 without bpin? Rppn ™ immpnsp Hip Drp«Qi,pp 
, . ,, loss of it Sometimes it cools from dau tr. Hnv- tivates that literature which was his pride and wiinout Doing seen was immense, tne pressure , ,, , , 
not one to attract a stranger ; there were no ^s ot it. Sometimes it cools Irom day to day d rin£r manhood > 8 trialf} of the crowd being so great. At length a screen cobbler - It was perhaps owing to the very fact 
costly displays of architecture, no vine festoon- warm confidence giving gradual place to chill PI S . , . was placed auainst the bodv of the carriage of his humble parentage that the elder Adams 
, , J i . ■ , „ civilitv civilities swiftlv hecomino’iev Ln«v nf Another, whose name is deservedly popular, ^ as P ia cea against tne Doay 01 tne carnage, , , r T . „ 
ed bowers,—but simply a little farm house that clvluc y> civilities sw nuy Decoming icy husii ol . . , J , and Her Maipstv was in the act nf stormtoo- in became what he was. I have never seen the 
, , ,. r J , . nea’lect and renuffnanre Sometimes ifs relics is N. P. Willis, a genuine poet and a brilliant ana ner majesty waa in tne act ot stepping in, . , , ,, 
ever created emotions of beauty in my young neglect ana repugnance, sometimes its relics & 1 when twn men were rfetecW nn story in print, but it legitimately descended to 
i l I. ,1 *i r •. J 1 r 1 b touch us with a Danu or we stand at its crave and sparkling prose-writer. While a student ' va en two men v ere aetectea on tne coacnman s “ ...... , . . J , \ , 
heart Methinks I see it now as when I last £ c us ^ whose b! sam a ^<- Haven he won a high reputation for box, looking deliberately into the carriage, and bjora!^tradition, having been told my great 
visited it before she was called to her last, long T 7°” one so young, llie author of a series of “Scrip- about to stare the Queen in the face. A shout grandfather by the pious Deacon Adams of the 
the desec.rat.ion and evnlnaton of it. w wi’ ture Sketches.”* In 1830, he became one of the of indignation drove them from their exalted Church in Braintree, himself Ihe Deacon, 
tne nans 01 tne worm, secondly, the decay or ° ° - 0 The elder Adams was the son of a worthv 
loss of it Sometimes it cools from dav to dav tivates that literature which was his pride and without being seen was immense, the pressure ^ 
iossoiit, sometimes it cools irom day today _ _ P of the. crowd hein^ «o m-eat. cobbler. It was perhaps owmg to the very fact 
of the crowd being so great. At length a screen 
was placed against the body of the carriage. 
sleep,—with the old well-sweep that seemed to Devel giew. t hirdly, 
vie with the towering elm at its side, the brook ^ be deseciation and explosion of it by hypo- 
ture Sketches.” In 1830, he became one 
me oeseciauon ana explosion 01 11 Dy nypo- • nosition to the infinite relief of the eonrtiera during a temporary absence, had set John to 
, „ , , , ,,, , , erifes and traitors The harshest dinnoLt in conductors of the New York Mirror, and soon position, 10 me mnniie renei 01 me courtiers. 6 1 J 
that flowed gently o’er its pebbly bed on, on ernes ana traitors. 1 ne narstiest di aught m the , , n , « 0 on after the Drinces escorted bv thp Mavnr cutting out some uppers for some shoes; but, 
down to the rustic old mill whose “ rafters have “fe betrayed affections, sailed for Europe. He traveled over Great like the Chinamen who, in making a plir of 
all tumbled in,” and the orchard that reached When the guiding light of friendship is quench- Britain and the various interesting places on *? P 'Sey ^ e lorTZlfy IZned b -ecbes from a pattern furnished b/ some 
far along the hill-side-even to the silent city ed ia deception, the freezing gloom that sur- the continent and bis “First Impressions, ZZ iTZlte otThef P rudeat captain, had faithfully copied the 
of the dead. Oft had I wandered there alone J ua ® p g 0 s P al P abl ®» aud drooping ° ith remarkable fidelity. Mr Willis “et, and glittering with the lustre of precious P atches ^bich his wife had put m the seat of 
among the mounds, with thoughtful heart;,and ^ altb and J0 P e P eilsb ln lts shade. Let one . , . . , 7.\ ^ \ . , s to ne s The roval uartv was to uroceed to the old ones, John had embellished every up- 
, , , find cold repulse or mockinu treacherv where 18 distinguished for the exquisite finish and siones. me royai party was to proceed to ’ J \ 
now—tread lightly, speak softly, for do ye not n c P cKing treacnery where *nrose and uoetrv London immediately. per he had cut out with the three-cornered hole 
see that “ short and narrow bed.” newlv made. be bas g a ™ered up h 1S dearest treasures, and it me od Y of hls mitlDgS ' both prose and poetry, 7 hv thfi ^ haH h or) a ,, lls . 
. , . „ , ,, . J is not strange if he feels as thmurh the firm and there is a fascination in every sentence ® 
and will ye not ask Heaven sblessing upon the 18 1101 sc ange e ieeis as mougn the firm re- ,. . . ,. ’ . munr dttt t -Nnrsfi nn nnn-im ivrn’-Nr tomed nail. “ I saw, said the Deacon, “ that I 
, , , , , , , ,, , , , , alities of time and sense had heenme shirlnTva that he pens, which give to bis productions an IHE UULLtJLbb Oi GREAT MEN. ’ ’ 
household band that have been made desolate. a ues 1 11 seQse naa oecome shadows, , • i m - couldn t make a shoemaker of him, so I put 
and the solid ulobe brokpn like an emntv Loofi enduring vitality. What more beautiful than , . , , ’ 1 
Ah, well do I remember the beautiful smile f foam _^ \ . P J &d the following, from “Thoughts while making a Descartes, the famous mathematician and him to learning. -Boston Transcript. 
that lighted up my Grandma’s brow, as she _^ ^_ grave for a first child philosopher; La Fountain, celebrated for his -- 
welcomed me. as oft before, to her humble .. „ , .... .. . „ , witty fables; Buffon, the great naturalist, were a comparison. 
welcome ’ , THE BOSES OF EABTH. “ Room, gentle flowers ! my child would pass to Heaven I ' ’ .* 5 .. _’ Nothing so easy as to cross the hands, 
home. I thought the wrinkles had deepened Ye look’d not for her yet with your soft eyes, all singulaily deficient in the powers of con- And wail and wail—to sit in the noonday sun 
upon her brow, the light faded from her eye,— e vj5j the mother of mortals, walked one day °’ watchful ushers at Death ’ 8 narrow door I versation. Marmontel, the novelist, was so dull And let our tears fall heavily, one by one, 
but still reflecting more of Heaven than when „i„„„ onrmwf.il rm e B,lt 101 while y° u dela V t0 let her forth ' in society that his friend said of him, after an As if life’s aim were to bedew bare sands, 
she last gave me a parting blessing. She thi«!infnl rrh SndHenlv Angels beyond, stay for her ! One long kiss interview, “I must go and read his tales, to Rather than to drive plow-furrows in rich lands, 
° , , ° . this sinlul earth. Suddenly she espied a rose- From lips all pale with agony, and tears, ’ And Dlant and wear and lift a hmw 
seemed more thoughtful—as she sat there, in tree laden with expanded blossoms, which, like Wrung after anguish had dried up with fire recompense myse for the weariness of hearing When whirlwinds sweep our autumn’s harvest low. 
the “ old arm chair, with the family Bible up- the blush of dawn> shed a ros light u t he The e >' 6B that we P l them > were the CU P of life him - As to Corneille > the greatest dramatist A harder Ugk is his> who 8trives> withgtand8j 
on the stand by her side—than I had seen her green i eaves ar0U nd them “ Ah !” cried she Held as a weloome to her- Weep ’ °» mother! of France, he was completely lost in society— Hopes still, and on that golden ground of hope 
before, and oftener spoke of Heaven and its joys, with rapture, “ is it a deception, or do I indeed 80 abseut and embarras8ed that be wl 'ote of Builds u p awaU of vantage , that 
oftener wished me to read to her from her most be hold even here the lovelv roses of Fden ? T r w T himself a witty couplet, importing that he was With wilder storms to come-a harder task, 
,,, . „ , Denoid even nere me lovely roses or Eden l — Henry W. Longfellow, the “artist poet,” „„„„ w +l„ _.n <• But how much better, braver, nobler !-Ask 
precious earthly treasure, the Bible. Already do I breathe from afar their paradisia- fi gure8 prominently in the literary field as the f, wa S ^ k 1 gh f , mouth ot aa * What part he furthers in the scheme divine 
Tell me not of “ duties to the aged,” but cal sweetness ! Hail gentle type of innocence popular author of the “Sonu of Hiawatha ” ° tber ‘ Wlt > 011 paper, seems to be something Who only wakes to weep, and lives to whine! 
— .LI_r L,_A.i ... 1 1 ... popuiai aumor 01 me oong 01 niawatna. w ; dfi i v d iff fi re.„t from that nlav nf wmrl. to ___ 
see that “ short and narrow bed,” newly made, . bas g arnere(i ll P bis dearest treasures, andi 
and will ye not ask Heaven’s blessing upon the n0 ^ strange if he feels as ikough the firm re 
household baud that have been made desolate. abt ies of time and sense bad become shadows 
.,, T , luu it i -i and the solid globe broken like an empty beac 
Ah, well do I remember the beautiful smile . , „ . r J 
, , . , of loam.— N. A. Review. 
that lighted up my Grandmas brow, as she 
welcomed me, as oft before, to her humble _ 
home. I thought the wrinkles had deepened _ 
upon her brow, the light faded from her eye, Eve, the mother of mortals, walked one da-v 
mdon immediately. P er be bad cut out with the three-cornered hole 
__ by which the patterns had hung on their accus- 
THE DULLNESS OF GBEAT MEN. tomed nail. “ I saw,” said the Deacon, “ that I 
- couldn’t make a shoemaker of him, so I put 
Descartes, the famous mathematician and bim to learning .”—Boston Transcript. 
Ui iuaui. J-Y. jCL, JLLOUbVOU. ----O'- -D --D 1 •! i T TN 1 • 1 . . J n 1 • 
_^_ grave for a first child philosopher; La Fountain, celebrated for his 
„ , .... _ , witty fables; Buffon, the great naturalist, were 
THE BOSES OF EABTH Room, gentle flowers 1 my child would pass to Heaven 1 „ 
_ Ye look’d not for her yet with your Boft eyes, Singulaily deficient m the powers of con- 
Eve, the mother of mortals, walked one day °’ watchful ushers at Death ’ s narrow do0r 1 versation. Marmontel, the novelist, was so dull 
alone and aor.Wnl, on th, desecrated soil of S'CTST 0.'. tot’u. “ '° C ! ety ^ “ end “ id of 1 h | m ’ aft , er “ 
this sinful earth. Suddenly she espied a rose- From lip. ill pi, .ithagop,, and u,rl. interview. •• I must go and read his tales, to 
tree laden with expanded blossoms, which, like Wrung after anguish had dried up with fire recompense myse or t le tv eanness of hearing 
the blush of dawn, shed a rosy light upou the The eyes that wept them ’ were the cup of life him ‘” As to Corneille < tfa e greatest dramatist 
green leaves around them. “ Ah !” cried she, ^ as , aw f“ me t t ° her ‘ S’ °’ m ° th6r 1 ° f FranC6 ’ he WaS com P lete1 ^ lost in 8 °ciety- 
with rantnrp it a Hoponiinn r r • . , Btlt not that from this cup of bitterness g0 abseri t and embarrassed that he wrote of 
with rapture, is it a deception, or do I indeed a cherub of the sky has turn’d away.” . . 
behold even here the lovely roses of Eden ?- Henry W. Longfellow the «artist noet ” & / imp ° rt ’ Bg that he was 
Already do I breathe from afar their paradisia- figures prominently in the’literary field, as the “umr ^Wit^on mneV se^rns to^ 01 ' 111 
cal sweetness ! Hail eentle tvne of innocence J „ a_ L a. other ’ Wit, on paper, seems to be something 
rather of the peaceful pleasure one receives in and joy ! Art thou a silent pledge that even There is a gracefulness and a vivid beauty - v T V- ”"“ .T~* T 
* amon § l* 16 tBOTns of earth Eden’s lmppi.es, i poem, which at once impreBSM 
speak kindly, lovingly to them, for 
Enough of sorrow this cold world hath, 
Enough of care in its later path. 
Then see that ye add not a furrow to the sil 
vered brow of the feeble and aged one. Yes ! 
“ Speak gently to age, 
A weary way is the rough and toilsome road of life, 
As one by one its joys decay, 
And its hopes go out ’mid its lengthened strife.” 
may bloom ? Surely it is bliss even to inbale tbe mpmorv and wins tbp bpart and which ham 
the pure fragrance of thy flowers!” Even called forth the universal commendations of 011 the EB g bsb throne - was 80 cba ^ed with the “ I must shine and cannot do otherwise, for it is 
while she was speaking, with her joyous gaze the uress hUm ° r ° f “ Hudlbra8 ’ tbat be cau8ed bimself m T Batu re and property ; but this my property, 
bent upon the profusion of roses, there sprang William Cullen Bryant who rendered his t0 b i lntroduced ’ 1B the cbaracter of m a P ri vate and the light I give, is not of myself, and I do 
up a light breeze which stirred the boughs of name immortal by “ Thauatopsis’’ written f entl ® ma ^ f But ^ er ’ lts author ' The wit ty not call it mine.” So likewise it is with God 
the tree; audio! the petals of the full-blown w ben he was only Eighteen years of age may klDg found the author a very dull companion ; and Christ, and aU who are godly and belong 
flowers silently detached themselves, and sank be said to rank among the first of American ? d T 7!^ otbei ' s ’. that 80 UBt ° 4 God ; Ia the “ 18 “° ^Blmg.nor working, 
upon the ground. Eve exclaimed with a sigh, -L s S Upld a f ell ? W ^ never ^ wntten 80 « or de81riDg ’ but has for it8 end, goodness as 
.. a i . i i • v i D . ^ * clever a book. Addison, whose classic elc- goodness, for the sakft of croodnp.ss f.l ipv 
witty fables ; Buffon, the great naturalist, were A comparison. 
i, . , n . r, , • „ Nothing bo easy as to cross the hands, 
all singularly deficient in the powers of con- . . / ...... ’ 
A r And wail and wail—to sit in the noonday sun, 
versation. Marmontel, the novelist, was so dull And i et our tears fall heavily, one by one, 
in society that his friend said of him, after an As if life’s aim were to bedew bare sands, 
interview, “I must go and read his tales, to Rather than to drive plow-furrows in rich lands, 
recompense myself for the weariness of hearing P lant > and wear > and llft a parent brow, 
i. „ A . i, When whirlwinds sweep our autumn’s harvest low. 
him. As to Corneille, the greatest dramatist A harder tegk is his> who strive8) withgtand8j 
of France, he was completely lost in society— Hopes still, and on that golden ground of hope 
so absent and embarrassed that he wrote of Builds up a wall of vantage, that may cope 
himself a witty couplet, importing that he was With wB der storms to come—a harder task, 
• j. ii* -ui , , ., .i - But how much better, braver, nobler !—Ask 
never intelligible but through the mouth of an- what part he {aith ’ eia in Bcheme divine 
other. v» it, on paper, seems to be something Who only wakes to weep, and lives to whine ! 
widely different from that play of words in -#- 
conversation, which, while it sparkles, dies ; for Goodness its own End. —If thou wast to ask 
Charles II., the wittiest monarch that ever sat the sun, “ Why shinest thou ?” he would say; 
stupid a fellow could never have written so nor desiring, but has for its end, goodness as 
-- 0 - „ A1 . i hit j A „ clever a book. Addison, whose classic ele- goodness, for the sake of goodness, and they 
Never have I regretted one kind word spoken Ala8 ' } alsGare childien of death . „ I read William H. Prescott, the brilliant historian, gance hag long been considered tbe model of have no other, therefore, than this. 
to my dear grandmother, but a sigh oft swells f n “nfu! sflence she'^looked ifnafth f tl ^ an ° ther *'** ™ th6 American 8 ^ Stem ° f Ut ‘ style, was shy and absent in society, preserv- . - : -—- 
my bosom, and tears moisten my eye, because . c p e a en erary planets. ine even before a single stranger stiff and die- Home is the residence not mereb 
I so poorly smoothed her rough and toilsome ^ ° f These are but feW ° f tbe brilliant names ’ of nified silence. In conversation, Dante was ta!- but of tbe hearfc 1 il is a P la ce for t 
1 anotBer 8tar ln the Am8ri can system of lit- gtyle> wag shy and absent in gociety> pregery . 
raiy planets. eyen before a single stranger, stiff and dig- 
These are but few of tbe brilliant names, of nified gilence In con ver8ation , Dante was tac- 
Home is the residence not merely of the body 
but of the heart; it is a place for tbe affections 
j -li(rhfpn nn hpv cnmitpnarK'o wliiTn cV, 1 nmeu silence, xn cun versauion, JL/ante was tac- -- > - t ——— 
Death claimed our loved one when the llgtuen “P c °uaienance wnne sue spaRe, w hom America is so justly and significantly iturn and gatir i ca i. Gray or Alfieri seldom fco uafold and develop themselves: for child- 
lamp of life was almost extinguished. She is PnfnldtrT ii/to! VutoTr 8 ’ 7 ° Eg n aS P roud ’ Wlth sucb men am0D g us > we need not talked or smiled. Rosseau was remarkably ren to love and learB > and P la 7 > for husband 
, . , , tney aie enlolded in tne bud. be unto me the J , .< ^ l •, 
now lying under those brown autumn leaves, 
now lying under those brown autumn leaves, “ e Y aie enioiaea m tne dug, De unto me the to depend upon foreign writers for our mental fcrite in C onversation-not a word of fancy or and wife to toil smilingly together, and make 
with the sad winds blowing across her grave, Aop e d°down to eaMimon'thp half T^rfh ^ 6 f °° d ‘ If ye do not cease to import the “ feast eloquence warmed him. Milton was unsocial, life a blessing. The object of all ambition 
and her pure spirit bas gone to that land where , 1 sudd lv g P * f °? e U . S ’ of reason »” we 8a Pp!7 Gtber markets with its &ad eyen Writable when much pressed by talk 8b «uld be to be happy at home : if we are not 
age dims not tbe eye. Death to her was but ... 7 . °ms standard materials. Ellis F. Lamberton. of others_ Selected happy there, we cannot be happy elsewhere.— 
Yr f e T w . . which grew beneath them, and her soul was Vermont Oct 1856 ouners. acicooeu. ■ , , c . ,, . . , ., 
the commencement of Life—a passport to a , „ . . , , vennosi, oct., _ _ H lg |- be beg ^ p roo f 0 f t be virtues of a family 
. . , . i j n r , t 80re troubled. “Ob,” cried she, “ do ye also -- . , * „ ., J 
brighter world where dwell many who have _ , ^ nv nn, T—_Tt» Sensible Reply.-“ To all whom it may con- circle to see a happy fireside. 
Vermont, Oct., 1856. 
Government of our Thoughts. — The right 
6 , , , ., , . f, . . , need some defence? Do ye indeed bear within Government of our Thoughts. — The right 
.gone on before, and await her m their eternal . r . 3 , , . ,, ,. . ° „ rPrn 
the consciousness of sin—and are these thorns government of our thoughts requires no small ceru 
home. May we all be gathered at last, to iom „ „ , , ,. -r, . > . r , , sens( 
, . . . - , tt- i J the symptoms of your shame ? Nevertheless, vigilance and resolution. But it is of such vast 
her m singing praises to Him who sitteth upon 1 , J , . * r “our 
r T v I bid you welcome, beauteous children of the importance to the peace and improvement of our 
tne tnione . Lucy. „ . „, .... . _: i _ lt. l„ i-.- _l_ “T 
government of our thoughts requires no small cern< There is a world of plain common 
vigilance and resolution. But it is of such vast sense i Q tbe following, “if, as Hamlet says^ 
i li , • ■ “our wisdom could but find it out.” 
of others .—Selected. bappy there, we cannot be happy elsewhere.— 
__ It is the best proof of the virtues of a family 
Sensible Reply. —“To all whom it may con- circle to see a happy fireside. 
The sound of your hammer at five in the 
morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor. 
Speech and Silence.—T he ear and the eye }mn 1 ' ' * ' ... and turbulent a family as his own thoughts, 8 P rin S U P in “ the besfc of families,” “ when a J" V 
are the mind s receivers-but the tongue is only which are a t to be at the command of his pas . man and his wife have quarreled, and each con- Z ’ FranUin 
•busy in expending the treasure received. If, Decision and Truth.— Whatever you think sions and appetites, ought not to be long from sider8 tbe otber at fault » which of the two ought 
therefore, the revenues of the mind be uttered proper to grant a child, let it be granted at the bome “Guard well thy thoughts—-thy thoughts to be tbe first to advance toward a reconcilia- Opportunity 
as fast, or faster than they are received, it must first word, without entreaty or prayer ; and are h ' e&l . d in heaven.” tion ?” stalk may rema 
needs be bale, and can never lay up for pur- above all without making any conditions.— -- “The best-natured and wisest of the two,” p[ me m ay with 
l bid you welcome, beauteous children of the importance to tne peace ana improvement oi makes him easy six months longer; but if he 
Spring, as an image of heaven’s bright and rosy tbe mind, that it is worth while to be at some “ Madam ’ 8aid a bu 8 band to his young wife, geeg at the gaining tablGj or he ars your 
dawn upon this thorny earth 1”— From the Ger- pains about it. A man that has so numerous m a little altercation, which will sometime? yoice the tayerQ wh en you should be at 
_i j. __ai _v anriTio* nn in i( r.hft hfisr, nt tnmilips “ tuhen o J 
work, he sends for his money the next day.— 
needs be bale, and can never lay up for pur- 
De me nrst to advance toward a reconciiia- Opportunity is the flower of time; and as the 
311 • stalk may remain when the flower is cut off, so 
“ The best-natured and wisest of the two,” u me may with us when opportunity is gone 
chase. But if the receivers take in still with- Grant with pleasure, but let your refusal be It was amongst the loveliest customs of the said the wife, putting up her rosy mouth for a forever. 
out utterance, the mind may soon grow a bur- irrevocable; let no importunity shake your ancients to bury the young at morning twilight; kiss, which was given with an unction. She 
den to itself, and unprofitable to others. I will resolution—let the positive “no,” when once for, as they strove to give the softest interpre- had conquered!” 
not lay up too much and utter nothing, lest I be pronounced, be a wall of brass, which a child, tation to death, so they imagined that Aurora, -- 
If we would give ourselves only half aa hour’s 
reflection at the close of every day, we would 
covetous ; nor spend much and store up little, after he has tried his strength against it once, who loved the young, had stolen them to her He who masters his passion, subdues a fear- preach to ourselves several of the best sermons 
lest I be prodigal and poor. —Bishop Hall. 
shall never more endeavor to shake. 
embrace. 
ful enemy. 
that could be uttered every week. 
