MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
(Eimmtioiml 
PARENTAL DUTIES, 
BY I,. WETHER ELL. 
“ To develop in each individual all the perfec¬ 
tion of which he is susceptible, is the object of 
education.”— Kant. 
__ 
• •• 
DO YOUR CHILDREN READ 1 ? I have often thought, that if parents 
" would study the particular organization of 
This inquiry is addressed to parents, their children—the natural inclinalion of j 
whose duty it is to know, whether their their mi nds-and let them select their own ! 
children read-and if so what they read.— profession 0 , trade, and let all their early ! 
It is important that every child should be train5ng be in accordance with the choice 1 
taught, not only the art of reading, but the they make> therc wou]d be greA ter success i 
habit of applying his leisure time, be it more and advancement than is. generally witness- 
or less, to the reading of “ useful books.’ - ed Talleyrakd once 8aid that “the art of ! 
Let this habit be thoroughly formed in child- putting men in tbcir propor placcs was per- ! 
i A 1: 
and advancement than is, generally witness¬ 
ed. Talleyrakd once said that “the art of 
hood and it will seldom be departed from in 
subsequent life. Many a young person, 
when absent from home, whether on busi¬ 
ness or for recreation, has been kept from 
without knowing the contents thereof.— 
Many a promising youth has thus been ru¬ 
ined. 
It was the reading of good books combin¬ 
ed with study, observation and thinking, onward tiU at len S th the capabilities of 
that made a Bacon, a Newton, a Watt, a 
Franklin, a Fulton, and a Bowihtcii. The 
reading of good hooks gives mental power 
the mind and corrupts the heart. 
To enforce the foregoing remarks we copy 
Sir Walter Scott’s advice to his son. He 
says : 
“ I cannot too much impress upon your 
mind, that labor is the condition which God remains like the unpolished diamond in the 
has imposed on us, in every station of life, rock—or perhaps worse than useless, an in- 
Thore is nothing worth having, that can be j U rv and a curse to the world. i>. 1*. n 
had without it, from the bread which the Rochester, n. y., Feb., 1852. 
peasant wins with the sweat of his brow, to _ 1 ’ ’ _ 
the sports with which the rich man gets rid . „ TTTTrTJ 
of his ennui. The only difference betwixt __ 
them is that the poor man labors to get a There are two methods of enumeration 
dinner to appease his appetite—the rich man . 
to get an appetite for Ids dinner. now 111 use ’. tho * rcncb and En S hsh ; rho 
As for knowledge, it can no more be plant- former divides a number into periods of 
cd in the human mind, without labor, than threo figures each, and gives a distinct name 
a field of wheat can bo produced without to each period, beginning at the right hand; 
the previous use of tho plow. There is, in- i„ + x „ ", ,, 
, } 1 .1 x Y ’ the latter divides tho number m tlie same 
deed, this great difference, that chance or 
circumstances may so cause it, that another manncr > gnes the same names to tne first 
shall reap what tho farmer sows; but no throe periods, after which it gives but one 
man can bo deprived, whether by accident name to every two periods. Thus: 
or misfortune, of the fruits of his own studies; Q Q T B M T v 
and the liberal and extended acquisitions of 1 , 000 , 006 , 01 ) 6 , 006 , 000 , 000 , French. 
knowledge which he makes are all for his b o»o, 000 , 000 , 000 , m,m, English 
own use. Labor, my dear boy, therefore, . 
and improve the time. In youth our steps ^ 1IS ’ acc ordmg to the I rench would be 
Q. <i. T. B. M. T. U. 
1,000,000,0110,000,000,000, French. 
T. B. M. T. U. 
1,000,000,000,000,000,000, English. 
This, according to the French would be 
are light and our minds are ductile, and “ One Quintillion.” According to tho Eng- 
knowledge is easily laid up. But if we neg- lish, it would be “ One Trillion.” The for- 
lect our spring our summer will be useless mer is the more convenient and the more 
and contemptibio, our harvest will bo chaff, • , , , . ~ t 
and the winter of our old age, unrespected c ° nsistent ’ an<1 IS sufficiently extensive for 
and desolate. practical purposes, as the names in coin- 
Again: Read, my dear son, read and read nion use (twenty-two in all,) will enable us 
that which is useful. Man differs from birds to read a number consisting of sixty-six fie- 
and beasts, becauso ho has the means of 
availing himself of the knowledge acquired 
by his predecessors. The swallow builds 
tho same nest which its father and mother 
ures. By the English method we can enu¬ 
merate one hundred and twenty-three fig¬ 
ures by the use of the same names. Mr. 
built; and tho sparrow does not improve by Webster defines a “Billion,” according to 
tho experience of its parents. The son of j tho English. According to tho French it 
tho learned pig if it had one, would be a 
, n . would be “One Thousand Millions, 
mere brute, fit only to make bacon ot. It is . , „, r , 
x -xi xi 1 . J ^ , Down East, Jan., 1&52. n. 
not so with the human race. Our ancestors ___ 
lodgod in caves and wigwams, where we con- NEW PUBLICATIONS 
struct palaces for the rich, and comfortable _ A 
dwellings for the poor; and why is this, but Harpers’ Magazine for February.— Tho 
because our eye is enabled to look back up- 
on tho past, to improve upon our ancestors’ lllustrated hves ot Dr ’ FliANKLm and * A ' 
improvemonts, and to avoid their errors ? r0IjE0N Bonaparte, are continued by the 
This can only bo done, by studying history, Abbott’s. Tho other contents of this num- 
and comparing it with passing events.’ her are various and entertaining. Dewey 
" has it for sale. 
Boys, Read this.— Tho late Prof. Stuart - 
was a farmor’s son, and until the ago of four- Classical Series.— Eclogae cx. 2. Horatii Flacci 
teen intended to load a farmer’s life. His ! —^atibus. Philadelphia : Blanchard dr. Lea. 
. . <1 bo2. 
early education was agricultural. At the j 
NEW PUBLICATIONS. * 
Harpers’ Magazine for February. —Tho 
ago of four, it is said that ho road a book of ,„ T ™ odilion of H°™ 0 , oditod by Ur. A. 
ballads, which derelopod in him a life-long f?“ T ’ c ‘ mtams nearl y al1 h ‘» P oems 
n ., ,. ... . 0 suitable tor educational purposes. For sale 
passion for tho creations of imaginative gen- d EW fy’ 1 1 
ius ; at the age of twelve I10 read with groat 1 * ' _ 
and absorbing interest “Edwards 011 the The Common School Journal, and Edu- 
Will; and at the age of fourteen commenc- cation al Reformer. New Series. This we 
ed fitting for College. In one evening, ho believe is the oldest Educational Journal in 
learned tho four conjugations of the Latin our country. It is edited by W. B. Fowle, 
verbs, in another the sixty rules of syntax, Esq , a teacher of experience, and a man of 
and in three days was master of the gram- observation—and has just entered upon its 
mar. lie graduated in 1799—a favorite pu- fourteenth volume. Tho best recommen- 
pil of President Dwight. His printed vol¬ 
umes are not less than 20 —and his reviews 
and essays fill more than 2,000 octavo pages. 
The Universe of God is tho Library of 
tho Student of Nature. All others are but 
miserable translations of the groat original, 
which is road and studied only by here and 
there a solitary philosopher. 
dation we can give it, is that we have taken 
it and read it with profit from its first num¬ 
ber until now. Published semi-monthly, in 
Boston. Terms, $1 a year, in advance. We 
shall bo glad to forward a dollar for any of 
our brethren who may desire the Journal. 
j mil 
haps the first in tho science of government.’ 
Tillotson has wisely remarked, “that it re¬ 
quires wisdom and art to raise a great and 
regular building; but the greatest and no- 
bad company —from making unprofitable b i est work in the world, is to rear and build 
acquaintances, by a love of books. up a man .” j t is nofc iny objVct to point 
It is quite as important to know what out a new system of parentai instnl(;tion , 
your children read, as it is to know that but rnerely to call up tbis mome ntous 8ub _ 
thoyread. Most libraries are replenished ject for thought an d reflection, 
with that class of books comprehended under 
tho familiar titles of “ fiction,” “ lighn-ead- M Parunts > 1,0 " e cons, ' lor tn0 P ositI °” 
ing,” “ trashy works,” “epliomoral ” or “bob- ,,lot "O occopy-that to educate, instruct 
J „ a _: .r* 1 j • 
which 10 xoau auu numeu omy oy acre ana Knowledge is not mental power. The 
there a solitary philosopher. mind is not formed in schools, but in free 
-—~—■— - social action with affairs, interests and tempt- 
It is only necessary to grow old to become ations, which call forth tho exercise of judg- 
moro indulgent. I sco no fault committed, mont, prudence, reflection, moral restraints, 
that I have not committed myself.— Goethe, and right principles. 
THE SYRIAN OX. 
Miitoal Bistort]. 
hie literature,” which most children, if left and dlscl P ll » e thc minds of chiIdr en is 
to themselves, will bo likely to select for the hl S hest and noblost offico conferred U P' 
their reading. There are many persons of 011 >™n-that upon us heaven has laid the 
whom it might be truly said it would have responsibility of fashioning and giving di- 
been better for them had they never learned rectl01 ' to those progressive minds commit- 
the art of reading. tcd to our care ? “ How fa5r a f ^ld is here, 
We believe it to be the duty of every pa- to ^ uido tll0S0 souls to God ’ and multi Pb’ 
rent to select the books which his children th ^ elf for honor! ’ ? “ A curioas , eager 
are to read. No judicious father or mother liock of minds ’ to bo severally tamed and 
will permit a beloved child to go to a public tutorod ’ tl]1 the coll go» ial sun and dews of 
library and select books week after week a judicious system of instruction shall have 
matured their tender and plastic minds, 
which at first would have been so readily 
destroyed hut for the watchful care of tho 
parent; wisely directing and leading them 
their minds are so far developed as to enable 
them to resist, with a fixed purpose of soul, 
those deadly influences to which youth is so 
while thc reading of bad books enfeebles mucb exposed, ilius the slender twig be 
comes tho strong oak, proudly standing a 
monument of such parental administration. 
On tho other hand, if the parent is unmind¬ 
ful of the moral and physical education of 
his child, that unfortunate germ of intellect 
SYRIAN OX. 
The breed of oxen, throughout the dif¬ 
ferent regions of the world differs in all 
external appearances according to tho na¬ 
ture of the climate or other circumstances. 
But the most remarkable difference is that 
which divides them into two classes; viz., 
! the aurochs, or ox without a hunch on his 
back, and tho bison or hunched ox. This 
latter breed is found in most hot countries, 
and seldom in the colder ones, save perhaps, 
in the case of the American bison. 
The hunched ox of Syria, is represented 
in the above engraving. He has very long, 
large horns, curved in a peculiar manner. 
The hair is shorter, but softer and more 
glossy than that of our common ox. They 
are said also, to be swifter and more tracta¬ 
ble answering some of the uses of tho horse. 
There are many other species of hunched 
oxen in Asia and Africa, having marked and 
widely different peculiarities. 
SNOW BIRDS. 
BY I). W. BALLOU, JR. 
With me, snow birds—those playful com¬ 
panions of the storm—are cherished favor¬ 
ites. After most of tho other members of 
the winged family have lied to more genial 
climes, they come and make their transient 
visits to us, and that too when the face of 
nature is overspread with tho chilling gloom 
of winter skies—sporting amid falling snow 
instead of blooming flowers. They seem to 
delight as much in cold blasts from tho north 
as tho others do in gentle winds from tho 
south. 
For years they have cheered me with 
their frequent presence, in my daily walks 
forward to tho toilsome theatro of business 
in the morning, and backward to tho calm¬ 
er enjoyments of home in the evening, after 
tho labors of the day are finished. As I 
passed along they would often bo in my 
path. When I drew near towards them, a 
little further onward they would fly, and 
again stop to pick up what morsels of food 
they could find. Approaching ^them once 
more, they would now take a small circuit 
around, alight a. short distance behind, and 
busily engage in gathering their frugal meal, 
as if they had never been disturbed. There 
is a rather secluded place, by which I gen¬ 
erally go, that has great attractions for 
them, and they cling to it with something of 
thc filial tenderness that children do to tho 
old paternal estate their fathers cultivated 
and adorned, and which is endeared to them 
by a thousand fond recollections. Season 
after season have those birds lingered 
around this spot, and really seemed to think, 
like some other less scrupulous trespassers, 
that long possession has given them pre¬ 
emptive rights. 
Snow birds are tho most numerous and 
common of all tho varieties on our conti¬ 
nent. Sometimes they go in large Hocks, 
at others in small ones, or in pairs. They 
live within tho vast domain of territory sur¬ 
rounded by tho Arctic Circle, the Atlantic 
Ocean, the Gulf of Mexico, and the Rocky 
mountains. They aro simple though pecu¬ 
liar in their habits, and are chiefly distin¬ 
guished for preferring cold regions in tlioso 
months of the year which are severest, and 
on that account deserted by most other 
birds. They are activo and graceful in their 
movements, symmetrical in form, plain in 
plumage, and have no brilliant reputation 
for the sweotness of their musical strains, 
though something of singers. When the 
weather is worst, they will hover around the 
door-yards and barns of our cities, villages, 
and farms, becoming quite tame and famil¬ 
iar, fearlessly trusting to tho kindness of 
man for safety from violence. And who 
would harm so innocent and confiding a 
creature, when it so feelingly appoals to our 
nobler sentiments for protection ? 
There are threo kinds of snowbirds, 
known as tho common, Lapland, and white, 
of which the first named is by far tho most 
1 plenty, while the two others arc compara- 
1 tively raro. There is no truth in the cur- 
j rent opinion that in spring, thc snow bird 
changes its color and notes, and becomes the 
little restlesss chipping sparrow, so common 
at that time. 
They have been quite frequent in this 
neighborhood this season. Large flocks 
might bo seen hopping about from spot to 
spot, when winds blew hardest and snow¬ 
flakes fell thickest. We know little of tho 
instincts of tlioso “mysterious spirits of tho 
air,” but wo have noticed that just before a 
sudden change from warm to cold, they 
would fly about in their happiest moods, as 
if to herald tho coming tempest, in the fitful 
gusts of which they love to mingle and play. 
They appear to bo constant attendants of 
the “ storm-king ” in all his wanderings from 
clime to clime; and when the other feathery 
tribes have gone to sunnier lands, they re¬ 
main to enliven with something of life, fields 
buried beneath winter’s snowy covering. At 
the opening of spring they journey away to 
northern realms, or the recesses of the dark¬ 
ling woods, or the most inaccessible parts of 
the mountain groves. In those safe retreats 
they build their nests, rear their young, 
and with the premonitory blasts of autumn 
are with us again, warning us to be ready 
for the wintry change that is near at hand. 
They come when we could least spare them, 
and for that reason are doubly welcome, 
just as a single blossom in December is more 
highly prized than a thousand in June. 
Nathaniel Hawthorne, in his charming 
description of a Now England snow-storm, 
has not omitted to give these companions of 
it, tho place they deserve in all such truth¬ 
ful sketches. He thus concludes one of the 
most beautiful of his singularly attractive 
essays :—“ But, taking a farewell glance at 
dead nature in her shroud, I perceive a flock 
of snow-birds skimming lightsomely through 
tho tempest, and flitting from drift to drift, 
as sportively as swallows in tho delightful 
prime of summer. Whence come they ?— 
Where do they build their nests and seek 
their food ? Why, having airy wings, do 
they not follow summer around the earth, 
instead of making themselves the playmates 
of tho storm, and fluttering on the dreary 
verge of winter’s evo. I know not whence 
they come, nor why; yet my spirit has boon 
cheered by that wandering flock of snow 
birds.” 
Soon they will leave us. We shall not so 
much neod them in tho midst of vernal 
bloom and balmy breezes. Yet let us hope 
they will wait till the robin, the blue-bird, 
tho sparrow, and tho other gay dwellers ot 
tho green field and leafy dell, shall come to 
make morning vocal with their awakening 
hymns—when the early flowers shall have 
given new attractions to garden and forest 
—and all naturo becomes moro beautiful 
and pleasant in tho presonco of the loveli¬ 
est and happiost objects that meet our sight. 
THE CANADIAN OR WILD GOOSE. 
This interesting bird, though easily do¬ 
mesticated to such a degree that it will breed 
in its captive state, yet always, or at least 
for many generations, possesses something 
of tho migrating instinct inhereut in the 
species. They are frequently restless, and 
disposed to ily at those seasons when the 
wild geese make their semi-annual journeys. 
They call to their brethren which happen to 
pass within sight or hearing; and if the tame 
ones are disabled from flight, (as is dono by 
amputating 0110 wing at the outer joint,) the 
wild 0110 s not unfrequently alight to recon¬ 
noitre. If a wild flock is bewildered by 
having lost their loader, as is sometimes the 
case, they have been known to be so attract¬ 
ed by domesticated ones of the same spe¬ 
cies, that they have been easily shot, or even 
taken alive. Col. Jaquos, who keeps this 
bird in his collection, near Boston, states 
that flocks of wild geose have several times 
alighted near his poultry-yard, and although 
near a highway which is constantly traveled, 
they have sometimes remained for a whole 
day, no molestation of them being permit¬ 
ted.— Albany Cultivator. 
Large Leaves. —The leaf of tho Tali¬ 
pot-tree, which grows on the island of Cey¬ 
lon, is four foot in diameter, and is a very 
good substitute for an umbrella. 
lobhattj JvfiiMngH. 
TRUST IN GOD. 
To thee I turn. 
When sorrow droops the wing, 
And winter has no spring, 
And every stream is dry 
Thai ran in gladness by: 
To thee I turn. 
To thee I turn, 
When friends I love forsake, 
And bends the heart to break, 
And on each face I sea 
The smile of treachery: 
To thee t turn. 
To lhee I turn, 
In every hour of pain. 
When help from man is vain, 
And find a sweet relief, 
While joy gives place to grief: 
To thee I turn. 
To thee I turn. 
My Father, turn to thee, 
And love and kindness i-ee, 
When glory fills the skies— 
When every pleasure dies— 
To thee I turn. 
GLEANINGS IN THE GRAVEYARD. 
To a man of contemplative habits, tho 
grave-yard is a favorite place for meditation. 
At all times of day, and at every season of 
tho year, he may wander there, and enjoy 
his thoughts alone. The children of care— 
the men of business, and tho votaries of am¬ 
bition and fashion, will not interrupt him. 
Oh no ! they come not there; the “valley 
of pcaco” has no charms for them. They 
are of tho rushing world to-day, and those 
who lay down yesterday are already forgot¬ 
ten. But for us, gentle reader, the grave¬ 
yard hath a blessed lesson. Shall wo read 
it aright. 
Wo knew hut few, perhaps, of those whoso 
remains are hero deposited, yet how dear 
wero they to us ! Nothing could reconcile 
us to the parting, hut the hope of meeting 
them again beneath a brighter sky. The 
poet has well said— 
-When our friends we lose. 
Our altered feelings alter too our views ; 
Virlues neglected, then adored uecome ; 
And graces slighted, blossom on thc tomb. 
It is a few of these blossoms on the tomb 
we propose to gather, they constitute the 
Poetry of Death. 
Time is winging us away 
To our eternal home; 
Life is hut a winter’s day, 
A journey to the tomb 
A little farther on we find these lines :— 
Had prayers of love the power to save, 
He had not filled this early grave ; 
We only hope that God has given 
An answer to those prayers in heaven. 
The former inscription seemed all gloomy, 
but this contains a reference to the serener 
sphere where death comes not. In the next 
epitaph, emotions of sorrow are altogether 
overcome, and it impresses one like a strain 
of triumphal music. 
Shed not for him the Litter tear, 
Nor give the heart to vain regret; 
’Tis hui the casket that lies here ; 
The gem that filled it sparkles yet. 
We first read these lines some summers 
gone, in the beautiful cemetery of Laurel 
Hill, near Philadelphia, and often since they 
have affected our hearts. “ Sparkles yet” 
suggests a pleasant thought, and we picture 
tho soul—a beautiful being among the shin¬ 
ing ones of heaven. 
Wo crush the faded loaves benesth our 
feet, push away the long withered grass, and 
read upon a dark brown stone these mourn¬ 
ful lines: 
Like crowded forest trees we stand, 
And some arc marked io fall ; 
The axe «iil smite atGod’s command, 
And soon shall smite us all. 
The evening shadows arc gathering around 
us and we can scarcely trace thc stony pile 
longer. One more “ blossom,” and we havo 
done: 
Sleep, loved and lost one, sleep 
Beneath the quiet sod ; 
With faith and hope, and prayer, 
We give thee up to God. 
There is a fragrance in this epitaph, a 
sweetness in its resignation, which could only 
emanate from the Christian heart. 
A HAN, A WOMAN, AND A CHILD. 
A few Christian friends were recently ad¬ 
miring the character of one of their acquain¬ 
tances, and descanting upon his virtues and 
graces. One of them remarked : “ I admire 
him for his manly firmness and inde¬ 
pendence in sustaining the cause of truth 
and righteousness in the community.” 
A second friend, who acquiesced in tho 
correctness of this estimate, added: “But I 
particularly admire him for his gentle courte¬ 
sy of demeanor. He puts me in mind of a 
kind, true-hearted woman.” 
“ Yes,” immediately replied a third friend, 
“and 1 admire him, because ho is guileless 
as a child.” 
“Well,’ exclaimed a lady, who overheard 
the conversation, “ you have made him out 
a remarkable character, lie is a man, a 
woman, and a child.” 
And so he was, in each of the characteris¬ 
tics named. The best form of Christianity 
is that which presents the loveliest combi¬ 
nation of its graces. 
The Family Altar. —“Family prayer,” 
says Cecil, “may be made a vast engine of 
power to the whole domestic circle. It says 
there is a God, and inspires a reverence for 
his character. It proclaims a life to come, 
and points to tho spirit land. It fixes tho 
idea of responsibility in the mind, while it 
diffuses sympathy through the soul. It fur¬ 
nishes a judicious parent with an opportuni¬ 
ty of glancing at faults, where direct admo¬ 
nition might be inexpedient. It greatly con¬ 
duces to the maintenance of family govern¬ 
ment and order, while its spiritual advanta¬ 
ges aro invaluable.” 
