MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
DEC. 27. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
KRISS KBINGLE‘3 MISSION. 
Hark, hark, around the joyous sound, 
The merry bells all jingle ; 
'Tis Christinas Eve ! I do believe, 
There comes our friend Kriss Kringle. 
Yes, yes, I see, ’tis he, ’tis he, 
All laden down with^toys, too ; 
And boobs, and things, quite fit for kings, 
He brings for girls and boys too. 
I’d like, X know, with him to go; 
And share his evening ramble ; 
What say you, Kriss ? may I do this, 
And’see the Christmas scramble ? 
“ Yes, come,” says he, “ and go with me, 
For eager groups are flockiDg ; 
’Twill take all night, and all our might, 
To fill each little^stocking. 
,l So we’ll begin : now you'll put in 
According to directions, 
Such things as these, (for they will please,) 
Books* playthings, and confections. 
But, spop ; one word—you have not heard 
How, just as I intended. 
My gifts to bring, on snowy wing 
'Mid glittering stars descended, 
A cherub bright, in silvery light, 
Who, smiling said, ‘ Kriss Kringle, 
I wish with toys for girls and boys, 
’ Some gifts of mine you’d mingle. 
“ ‘ You’re very kind’to bear in mind 
These anxious little folk, sir ; 
But lend your ear a word to hear, 
Indeed it is no joke, sir. 
Not all your store, nor thousands more, 
Can make a happy child, sir, 
Unless he’s true, obedient too, 
His temper sweet and mild, sir. 
“ ‘ A single sin spoils all withiD, 
Turns all without to sadness ; 
All hopes and joys it soon destroys, 
And takes away all gladness. 
Now I have here, true Christmas cheer ; 
See, these are angel vases ; 
They hold within a cure for sin, 
Distilled from Christian graces. 
“ ‘ If you will try, these to apply, 
Each little vase unclosing ; 
They’ll shed perfume through every room 
Where childhood is reposing. 
Good humor’s sweet, the lip shall meet 
Of every little pouter ; 
Hope’s fragrance here, shall breathe to cheer 
Each timid little doubter. 
The forward child, so bold and wild, 
Sweet modesty inhaling ; 
By morn, shall speak in accents meek, 
The blush and smile prevailing. 
That little elf, so fond of self, 
Love’s fragrant odor’s breathing. 
By morning light, shall chaplets bright 
For other brows be wreathing.’ 
Thus having said, the cherub'fled : 
“ And now,” says Kriss, “with pleasure, 
Our gifts we’ll place, and bid each base 
Breathe out its richer treasure.” 
So he aud I, with full supply, 
Work cheerily till dawniDg, 
With rosy light, breaks on the night, 
Then Kriss bids me “good morning.” 
And now through hall, and chambers all, 
Are rapid footsteps bounding ; 
WithiD, without the joyous shout, 
Of Merry Christmas sounding. 
Bright smiles declare, the balmy air 
Inhaled, from angel vase**, 
Give girls and boys, wi h Christmas toys, 
Glad hearts and happy faces. I. ff. P. 
Rochester, Dec. 2ftb, 1856. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
DECEMBER MEMORIES. 
BY CHARLES TYLER CLOTHIER. 
Cold, bleak December I Wbat an important 
part hast thou played in the great drama of life. 
How unwelcome is thy coming to the child of 
want, who awaits thy icy winds and drifting 
snows with a shuddering imagination. 
It was a December night; and the merriest 
night in December too, for it was Christmas 
eve, when Eva Botler entered a hall of life and 
gaiety, where wealth and beauty were gathered 
around the festive board. Eya was young; she 
had seen eighteen Decembers, and a fairer Eva 
could not be found. That memorable Decem¬ 
ber night, she plighted her faith to George 
Horton. Before the gay company, the clergy¬ 
man pronounced the cererroDy, and George 
took his fair bride to preside over his bachelor 
mansion. Eva was a good and dutiful wife, 
and her husband loved her with an idolatrous 
love. 
“ He seemed 
To bear with beiDg, but because she loved him ; 
She was the sheath wherein his soul had rest, 
As hath a sword from war: and he at night 
Would s le irmly and singularly curse 
Each minute he had not thought of her." 
The years flew fast, and the wedding anni¬ 
versary had been celebrated four times, with 
all the magnificence wealth could command, 
but while preparations were making for the 
fifth, Geobge Horton became a bankrupt. Con¬ 
tinued heavy losses in business forced him to 
suspend and compromise with his creditors. 
He had not one dollar left, and his fifth Christ¬ 
mas weddiDg anniversary found him upon his 
death bed. He was taken violently ill, and 
the old family physician was called in. 
“ Do you think he is dangerous ?” asked Eva 
of the physician as he completed an examina¬ 
tion of the sick man. 
“ He can live but a few hours at the utmost," 
was the reply. 
This was a death blow to the hopes of poor 
Eva. With her husband alive and in health, 
she could have bravely borne up under their 
pecuniary misfortune. “ God be merciful to 
me and my child,” she would often repeat, as 
she watched her dyin husband. George 
Horton died, and was buried, “ unhonored and 
unwept.” Eva was laboring under a violent 
brain fever, and no friend, out of the many who 
fawned upon him in prosperity, followed him 
to his last resting place. 
At length Eva recovered, and devoted her 
energies to the support of herself and child, a 
bright boy, not quite two years old. She open¬ 
ed a day school, in a basement room of a dingy 
building on-street, where she taught a few 
hoydenish girls, and managed to earn enough 
to purchase the bare necessaries of life. But 
this poor employment gave out, and as the De¬ 
cember anniversary again approached it found 
her in want. She had neither food or fuel, or 
money—not even one farthing to buy more. 
“ Mamma, give me some bread,” said little 
George. 
The mother burst into a paroxysm of grief, 
as her son so pitifully asked for food. She had 
not tasted a morsel herself for twenty-four 
hours, and the job of sewing for which she was 
to receive money, was not half done. But her 
troubles soon ended ; in the violence of her 
grief, she burst a blood vessel. This was the 
evening of the sixth anniversary. The child 
George perished of cold, and the next day the 
bodies of Eva Butler and her son were con¬ 
signed to pauper’s graves. 
Old December! continue on with thy chill 
winds, driving snows, and thy “ Merry Christ¬ 
mas.” When the pages of thy record shall be 
opened, there will be found many a sad tale of 
woe, and want, and death. 
Bark River, Wis., Dee., 1856. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorkor 
TO A FRIEND. 
My humble muse has never sought 
For greater meed of praise, 
Than friendship ever gives to him 
Who sings her happy lays. 
Then let these lines fulfill such end ; 
Prophetic may they be, 
Of all that’s dear, and good, and blest 
That heaven can give to thee. 
And should some sorrow, now unseen, 
O’ertake thee on thy way, 
May “ He that keepeth Israel" 
Sustain thee in that day. 
Life’s race all run—its burdens borne, 
It’s pains and griefs all o’er, 
May Christ conduct tbee o’er death’s stream 
To heaven’s blissful shore. 
Rochester, Nov., 1866. S. A. E. 
SPICE PARAGRAPHS. 
Zealously strive to do good for the sake of 
good. 
Traits of character which you seek to con¬ 
ceal you had better seek to reform. 
We ought as much to pray for a blessing upon 
our daily rod as upon our daily bread.— Dr. 
Owen. 
It is a noble species of revenge to have the 
power of a severe retaliation, and not to exer¬ 
cise it. 
Flowers are the alphabets of aDgels, where¬ 
with they write on hills and plains mysterious 
truths. 
The purest joy that we can experience in one 
we love, is to see that person a source of hap- 
hiness to others. 
Men want restraining as well as propelling 
power. The good ship is provided with anchors 
as well as sails. 
Many who have escaped from the rocks of 
gross sin have been cast away on the sands of 
self-righteousness.— Dyer. 
Guests should be neither loquacious nor si¬ 
lent ; because eloquence is for the forum, and 
silence for the bed-chamber. 
Conscience and covetousness are never to be 
reconciled; like fire and water, they always 
destroy each other, according to which predom¬ 
inates. 
A smile is ever the most bright and beauti¬ 
ful with a tear upon it. What is the dawn 
•without its dew ? The tear is rendered by the 
smile precious above the smile itself. 
The Breton Woman. — Among the many 
strange customs which mark the Breton peas¬ 
ants, there is none more remarkable than that of 
wealing the hair; for, while the men cultivate 
long tresses hanging down to their waists of 
which they were very proud, the woman do not 
show a single look, and the girl who might be 
tempted by the beauty, of her cheveture to al¬ 
low a ringlet to escape from beneath her closely 
fitting cap, would not only lose all chance of 
obtaining a lover, but would be regarded by the 
young men as fille perdu, that is, a coquettish 
girl unworthy of their affectionf. To this 
strange custom many London and Paris ladies 
are indebted for the magnificent hair which 
adorns their heads, but which was grown in the 
wilds of Brittany. 
“ Wanted.” —There are many genuine wants 
in this lower life. The babe is wanted to make 
glad the folds of human love. The young man 
is wanted ; a sweet girl with blooming cheeks 
and pouting lips wants him. She does not ad¬ 
vertise her wants in the public prints, but in 
her looks, her sigh, and her manner. Tne old 
man too, is wanted, to dance at the christening 
of his children’s children, to dandle them on 
his knee ; to rear them in the fear and admoni¬ 
tion of our God ; and this over, he is wanted in 
the circle of the angels, within the jewelled 
porch of Heaven. Every man, indeed, is want¬ 
ed for some purpose, and everything, however, 
small it may be,.is in its place adapted to a use¬ 
ful end.— Selected. 
The attention of a beautiful little girl being 
called to a rose-bush, on whose topmost stem 
the eldest rose was fading, but below and 
around which three beautiful crimson buds 
were just unfolding their charms, she artlessly 
exclaimed to her brother, “ See, Willie, these 
little buds have just awakened to kiss their 
mother before she dies.” 
S>ju 'fiutaiut. 
5fful flic. 
THE PEDANT. 
This harmless, but unconscionable bore is to 
be found in nearly every social circle. Stiff, 
harsh and dull,' he makes nonsense of what 
little sense he does speak, by using the deadest 
language be has in his silly pate at the most 
interi sting parts of his uninteresting discourse. 
Our own language is sufficiently rich and for¬ 
cible to express, not^nly such ideas as bewilder 
the heads of these kind of persons, but the 
thoughts of original thinkers, great thinkers.— 
But this silly display of a little learning is not 
onl v tiresome, but absolutely rude. In a mixed 
company, no scholar of good sense and correct 
manners will ever use any but the language of 
the country in which he lives. The use of 
proverbs, aphorisms, maxims and poetical quo¬ 
tations, in a dead tongue, forces a non-classic 
person either to a mortifying avowal of his ig¬ 
norance of the Latin, Greek or Hebrew, or to a 
hypocritical silence. Since those tongues are 
dead, they are necessarily of no use, save as 
. keys or means’by which we can reach the litera¬ 
ture and wisdom of those nations to whom they 
belong. The affectation of French, Spanish 
and German scholars is not so bad, since these 
languages are not only living, but fashionable 
and common; nevertheless, it is somewhat con¬ 
temptible to interlard our conversation with 
phrases in a foreign language, when our own is 
all we need to make ourselves perfectly under¬ 
stood. 
A smattering of knowledge is always the 
most clamorous, as a shallow stream is always 
more noisy than a deep river. The reader of 
nothing but reviews is always talking about 
books, whose covers he has probably never seen. 
The honest, real reader of books themselves 
finds it impossible to read everything which is 
issued from the press, and, in consequence, does 
not propound questions to you concerning this, 
that and the other, of the innumerable, trashy, 
wishy-washy works continually being pub¬ 
lished. The pedant is, most generally, a cipher 
in the world of action. He is nothing but a 
bad re-hash of obsolete or useless knowledge. 
• A genuine scholar, who uses his knowledge, 
but does not make a museum show of it, is quite 
a different individual from the conceited, tire¬ 
some, garrulous, stiff, harsh, hard, unsmiling 
pedant.— Selected. 
FREE SCHOOLS. 
There must ever be danger in a monopoly of 
learning. An equal distribution of the benefits 
of the schools can alone preserve the masses 
from becoming the prey of designing men. A 
thoroughly educated democracy is the only safe 
democracy. We may admit the fact that 
“On every soil 
The men who think must govern those who toil" 
But elevate the toilers with the blessings of 
education, and the toilers become thinkers, who, 
in their turn, govern their governors, till gov¬ 
ernment becomes a, common boon, mutually 
held and mutually relinquished. Throw open 
the doors of the high school, the academy, and 
the college, to the boy who has thumbed all the 
books of the grammar school, and yet feels him¬ 
self far below the standard to which he aspires, 
and you fill the land with educated men, such 
as no country on earth can ever boast. The 
aristocracy of wealth defies all statute restric¬ 
tions on its powers and privileges. Wealth 
cannot, in our land, be legislated down to aD 
inferior station, but poverty may be legislated 
up,by throwing open the same avenues of learn¬ 
ing to rich and poor alike. Let legislation gi^e 
to the child of the poor man the same facilities 
for acquiring a superior education which wealth 
now gives to the son of the millionaire, and the 
artificial distinction between the two extremes 
will be destroyed by their equalization on a 
common educational platform. Poverty, with 
talent and industry, need not fear a tilt, in our 
land, with wealth accompanied with mediocrity. 
It is onl - when poverty and wealth are both 
attended with limited educational culture that 
the former may give up the contest. 
HOW SHOLARS ARE MADE. 
Costly apparatus and splendid cabinets have 
no magical power to make scholars. In allcir¬ 
cumstances a man is, under God, the master of 
his own mind. The Creator has so constituted 
the human intellect, that it can grow only by 
its own action hnd by its own action it must 
certainly and necessarily grow.' Every man 
must, therefore, in an important sense, educate 
himself. His hooks and teacher are but help; 
the work is his. A man is not educated until 
be has the ability to summon in an act of emer¬ 
gency, all his mental powers in vigorous exer¬ 
cise to effect his proposed object. It is not the 
man who has seen most, or has read most; who 
ca i do this ; such an one is in danger of being 
borne down, like a beast of burden by an over¬ 
loaded mass of other men’s thoughts. Nor is 
it the man who can boast merely of native 
vigor and capacity ; the greatest of all the 
warriors that went to the siege of Troy, had 
given him strength, and he carried the largest 
bow ; but because self-discipline had taught 
him how to bend it.— D. Webster. 
The best teachers are those who can seem to 
forget what they know full well; who work 
out results which have become axioms in their 
minds, with all the interests of a beginner, and 
footsteps no longer than his. 
Aim at Perfection.— It is better to accom¬ 
plish perfectly a very small of work, than to 
half-do ten times as as much. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
"EATING BEFORE SLEEPING.” 
When I was young I was taught, and since 
I have become older, experience has instructed 
me, that I must “ settle my supper” before re¬ 
tiring, if 1 presumed upon refreshing sleep. I 
early learned, and learned to put confidence in 
the old nursery rhyme : 
“ To be easy all night, 
Let your supper be light, 
Or else you’ll complain 
Of a stomach in pain.” 
I have also learned an old English proverb, 
which says. 
After dinner sit awhile, 
After supper walk a mile. 
My experience has seemed to me to demon¬ 
strate the truth of this also for reasons which 
shall be hereinafter given. These sentiments 
are taught by physiologists, and the fact that 
they have become familiarly proverbialized 
indicates a conscientious conviction of the pub¬ 
lic mind, and at least a supposed agreement 
with the experience of the public generally, 
else how could such a conviction obtain geDeral 
credence, since it clashes somewhat with the 
gratification of the appetite ? 
Probably my surprise was that of many oth¬ 
ers at the vigorous onslaught on this sentiment 
made by P. B. S. in the Rural of September 
27th. He says :—“ I have yet to learn that the 
habit of eating even a hearty meal just before 
retiring for the night is any worse than that of 
earing the same quantity at any other hour of the 
day." We must join issue on this point after 
reviewing briefly a few of his statements. 
We believe, and we think the public will 
generally concede, that “ digestion goes on 
more rapidly and perfectly while the body is 
resting than while in action, and also that that 
rest is most perfect” (or, more correctly speak¬ 
ing, most refreshing) “and invigorating which 
is obtained when the appetite is satisfied.” A 
natural appetite certainly should be gratified at 
the proper time that the system may be adapted 
to rest, and an unnatural appetite cannot be sat¬ 
isfied. But does it therefore follow that sleep is 
an aid to digestion, or the action of the diges¬ 
tive organs an aid to sleep ? Sleep and rest are 
not quite synonymous. 
P. B. S. refers to the animal race as “ eating 
to satiety and then going to sleep.” Cattle and 
sheep, and probably all ruminating animals, eat 
heartily and then recline, but is it to sleep or to 
chew the cud? And this chewing the cud in a 
reclining posture with the brute, compares well 
with the partial rest and cessation from vigor¬ 
ous exercise which man requires. Digestion is 
doubtless more perfect during rest than labor, 
and we can well agree with P. B. S., that se¬ 
vere toil, either physical or mental, should be 
avoided immediately after eating a hearty meal. 
But dinner is usually the heartiest meal, and 
therefore demands more attention to this rule, 
than supper, because much heartier, and more 
than breakfast, because the system is more fa¬ 
tigued than in the morning. But the rest re¬ 
quired is not sleep; it is only cessation from 
vigorous exercise. 
P. B. S. says :—“ It is doubtless with an over¬ 
loaded and opnressed stomach as with the 
toothache,” «fcc.,more annoying at bed time than 
at any other hour. Very true. And why ? Is 
it not because the functions of the body natural¬ 
ly incline to rest, and the stomach rebels be¬ 
cause of its unfitness ? Can we have perfect 
rest of the whole system when the stomach is 
hard at work ? Does not our reason teach us 
that if we would have perfect rest we must put 
aside all labor ? Surely the stomach needs a 
modicum of rest. We suppose the brain to be 
partially dormant during sleep, consequently 
digestion becomes painful because that amount 
of nervous stimulus which the stomach needs, is 
lacking. Then when the stomach exacts of the 
brain more than its wont to supply, re-action en¬ 
sues—hence come exciiing, troublesome dreams. 
And now to recapitulate. A hearty meal is 
more injurious just before bed time, because* 
first: — No more exercise is required, the 
system does not need a re-inforcement of food. 
Second :—The digestive organs are less vigor¬ 
ous than in the former part of the day, and 
therefore are less capacitated to act. Third :— 
If we seek rest for our bodies, we must cease 
from labor of brain, muscle or stomach. 
P. B. S. cites the example of our hardy an¬ 
cestors as proof of his positions. He must be 
aware that of all the human family but very 
few become stout old men. The fact that they 
have imbibed certain habits, and in spite ot 
them lived to good age, is by no means conclu¬ 
sive proof that the present nervous and sickly 
generation may follow their example with im¬ 
punity. Could P. B. S. prove his positions I 
think more harm than good would accrue from 
the disseminatiou of them. w. B. 
West Bloomfield, N. Y., Nov., 1856. 
Rats on the Stige.— A Swede of genius, 
who deplores the present death of dramatic 
talent, has discovered that rats — Swedish rats 
at least— possess wonderful histrionic powers 
and after a careful search among the sewers 
and barns in his native land, he has obtained a 
company of rat Kembles, rat Keans and rat 
Siddonses, who (or which, for really a neutei 
can scarcely be applied to such geniuses) move 
the Swedes to laughter or to tears, as ihe “cue” 
requires. Among his company there is a sable 
skinned, bright-eyed rat, who plays Hamlet to 
perfection (arranged as a pantomime, of course) 
and all of them play Punch and Judy with 
genius. The Swedish impressario is about to 
make his rats appear before the Parisian public, 
and it will not be long before they appear 
among us. 
THE OLD CHURCH BELLS. 
Ring out merrily, 
Loudly, cheerily. 
Blithe old hells from the steeple tower, 
Hopefully, fearfully, 
Joyfully, tearfully, 
Moreth the bride from her maiden bower. 
Cloud there is none in the fair summer sky ; 
Sunshine flings henison down from on high ; 
Children sing loud as the train moves along, 
“ Happy the bride that the sun shineth on.” 
Knell out drearily, 
Measured and wearily, 
Sad old bells from the steeple gray. 
Priests chanting lowly; 
Solemnly, slowly 
Passeth the corpse from the portal to-day. 
Drops from the leaden clouds heavily fall 
Drippingly over the plume and the pall; 
Murmur, old folks, as the train moves along, 
“ Happy the dead that the rain raineth on.” 
Toll -t the hour of prime, 
Matin, and vesper chime, 
Loveth old bells from the steeple high— 
Rolling like holy waves, 
Over the lowly graves, 
Floating up, prayer-traught, into the sky. 
Solemn the lesson your lightest notes teach ; 
Stern is the preaching your iron tongues preach ; 
Ringing in life from the hud to the bloom, 
Kinging the dead to their rest in the tomb. 
Peal out evermore— 
Peal as ye pealed of yore. 
Brave old bells, on each Sabbath day, 
In sunshine and gladness, 
Through clouds and through sadness, 
Bridal and burial have passed away. 
Tell us life’s pleasures with death are still rife ; 
Tell us that Death ever leadeth t.» Life, 
Life is our labor, and Death is our rest, 
If happy the Living, the Dead are the blest. 
[Dublin University Magazine. 
« • * 
ALL IN CHRIST. 
Man, woman, or cbild ! do you want any¬ 
thing ? Are you anxious about the matters of 
your soul ? Are you disturbed ? Are you ig¬ 
norant? Do you feel, “It is wisdom I want ?” 
Well it is all in Christ. In the knowledge of 
him is eternal life. And do you understand it 
is all with Christ? “He that hath the Son 
hath life.” There is no salvation out of Him. 
We become bound with Him by faith, and then 
all that belongs to Him is ours—as it is all with 
Him. Once more, it is all for Christ. Did you 
understand everything we receive is to go back 
to Him ?—it is given to us that we might glorify 
his holy name. Are you justified ? Are you 
sanctified ? Are we temples of the Holy Ghost, 
heirs with Christ ? It is that we may have lib¬ 
erty to serve God, and glorify the name of the 
Redeemer. Thus, all that salvation implies is 
with Him, and all that salvation implies is for 
Him in time and eternity. My brethren, Christ 
is a rock. He is a root, out of which flows the 
sap of grace, through the branches, and the soul 
that is united to Him, as a branch, receiveth it. 
He is the Rock of Ages ; and the soul that is 
based on Him, the gates of hell cannot prevail 
against; it shall rise up a mighty tower unto 
tl»o clxioo —q lliut i>bcill manifest, thfi 
wisdom, the grace and the glory of God through¬ 
out eternity.— Dev. C. Molyneux. 
CHRISTIAN CHEERFULNESS. 
Christian cheerfulness is honorable to God 
and of happy influence on man. Let the cheer- * 
ing and tranquilizing power of the gospel 
break forth and shine from your character.— 
Jeremiah sung psalms in the dungeon ; Luther 
translated the Bible in prison ; John beheld 
the brightest visions of the New Jerusalem, iu 
Patmos; Bunyan, in later days, composed his 
Pilgrim in confinement. There is very im¬ 
pressive power in Christian happiness,on those 
who see it from without. It is a sunshine amid 
dripping clouds—a Sabbath heart in a week¬ 
day body, and Sabbath speech, amid the dia¬ 
lects of Babel. It is brightest, when all around 
it is the blackest. When our natural affections 
cease their music, we then hear, sung out of the 
sky, unutterable melodies, which ear hath not 
heard ; when the world is all gloom, a regene¬ 
rated soul treads glories out of every pebble, 
and sees the stars as arteries aloDg which pul¬ 
sations of felicity reach him. He can say with 
Habakkuk, “Although the fig tree shall not 
blossom, neither shall fruit be on the vines ; the 
labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall 
yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from 
the field, and there shall be no herd in the 
stalls ; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy 
in the God of my salvation.” 
ILL-GOTTIN WEALTH. 
There is a curse goes along with ill-gotten 
estate, and he that leaves such a one to his child 
doth but cheat and deceive him ; makes him 
believe he has left him wealth, but has withal 
put such a canker in the bowels of it that it is 
sure to eat it out. Would to God it were as 
generally laid to heart as it seems to be gene¬ 
rally taken notice of I Then surely parents 
would not accouut it a reasonable motive for 
unjust dealing, that they may provide for their 
children, for this is not a way of providing for 
them. Nay. it is the way to spoil them of 
whatever they have lav fully provided for them : 
the least mite of unlawful gain being the leaven 
which sours the whole lump, bilging down 
curses upon all that man possesses. 
Watch two foes with all diligencd y- the 
enemy that stands without and the traitor wnu» . 
opens the gate within. ri I 
Death pays respect neither to youth nor use¬ 
fulness, but mows down together the tender *. 
herb, the fragrant flower and the noxious weed. I 
. .. /’W'.M./.;, wwww ..... ..*.. 
