MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
53 
MimWamm. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
HOME REVISITED. 
BY WH. r.. MOORE. 
And this was once my own dear home. 
In childhood's sunny day. 
But ether children cluster now, 
And round the hearthstone play. 
Here my fond father’s chair did stand, 
And there his cane did lean— 
The. speak in their still vacancy, 
My heart, what Can it mean ? 
Here my gay brother hung his cap, 
And here his top did hum— 
I call, hut yet he cometh not, 
Alas! he cannot come ; 
lie sleepeth countless fathoms down. 
Within old Ocean’s breast, 
He lies upon a pearly bed. 
The billows rock his rest. 
’Twas here my Mother’s table stood, 
Her thimble rested here— 
Anoiher table fills its place, 
To me it is not dear. 
My Mother ! thou art gone from earth, 
Thy home above the sky, 
I am so very, very, sad. 
To thee, I fain would fly. 
Here did my little sister dear 
Play with her dolls and toys, 
Alas, our childhood’s home is filled 
With stranger girls and boys ; 
Each laugh, each shout they joyous give, 
But mocks my bitter moan, 
It seems to my poor pierced’iteart 
They echo forth my own. 
I wander through each dear lov’d room, 
Each nail to me is dear— 
The diamond’s traced upon the pane, 
Soft melts me to a tear; 
It was my sister traced that name, 
Upon my bridal morn— 
My Parents, Brother, Sister, dear— 
All, all, are from me torn. 
My Father’s bihlc rested here, 
And at the close of day, 
We gathered all, as he did retd 
Its sacred page, and pray. 
Here is the spot where oft I’ve knelt, 
Once more I’ll bow me there, 
And here within my early home 
I’ll lift my voice in prayer. 
I’ll ask of Him who to the lamb, 
Doth temper e’en the wind, 
To cheer me in my loneliness 
My broken heart to bind. 
I little dreame I when here I came, 
How many thoughts would rise, 
Of those so loved, who now have gained 
Their better home—the skies. 
OLD FRIENDS. 
What a multiucle of deep and varied 
emotions are called forth from the cells of 
the soul by the utterance of these two words. 
What thronging memories of other days 
crowd the brain when they are spoken; ah, 
there is a magic in the sound and the spell 
which it creates is both sad and pleasing.— 
As we sit by our fireside, while the winds 
are making wild melody without the walls 
of our cottage, and review the scenes of 
by-gone years which Hit before us in swift 
succession, dim and shadowy as the recol¬ 
lections of a dream—how those “old famil¬ 
iar faces,” will rise up and haunt our vision 
with their well remembered features. 
But ah, whore are they ? those friends of 
our youth—those kindred spirits who shared 
our joys and sorrows when first we started 
in the pilgrimage of life. Companions of 
our early days, they are endeared to us by 
many a tie, and wo now look back through 
the vista of years, upon the hours of our 
communion, as upon green oases in a sandy 
waste. Years have passed over us with their 
buds and flowers, their fruits and snows; 
and where now are those “ old familiar fa¬ 
ces ?” They are scattered, and over many 
of their last narrow homes, the thistle waves 
its lonely head; “after life’s fitful fever they 
sleep well.” 
Some are buffeting tho billows of Time’s 
stormy sea in distant lands; though they are 
absent our thoughts are often with them.— 
A few perhaps yet remain, and wo meet 
| them oft as wo pursue our daily vocation. 
To these we cling with a closer grasp as the 
auburn of thoir locks fade into grey. They 
are as a cluster of sere leaves in winter 
which have withstood the chill winds of No¬ 
vember; each one that drops off binds tho 
others yet closer unto us. Time and chang¬ 
es cement our friendship, and when an old 
friend passes off the stage, his absence cre¬ 
ates a blank which new ones can never fill. 
Our life is a devious path and as we pass 
along, our companions drop off one by ono, 
and new faces supply their place, until we 
seem to move in a strange world and amid 
strange people. Tho rocks and the hills, 
the streams and tho trees remain in the 
places which they filled of yore, but tho 
“old familiar faces” with whom we wander¬ 
ed along their banks and beneath their 
shado, have long since departed, and a sen¬ 
sation of loneliness cemcs over us, even 
when mingling in a crowd. 
The thoughts which fill the mind when 
musing upon tho joys of “lang syno” are of 
a chastened character. We are freed for a 
i time from tho shackles of selfishness and 
contemplate the purer and kindlier traits of 
the soul. AVe behold tho footprints of Time 
as marked by the pencilings of decay—in 
the scenes of the past wo behold a type of 
the future—the fate of our friends shad¬ 
ows forth that of ourselves, and dull are we 
if we arise not from fancied communion with 
old friends, both wiser and better men. 
West Dry den, N. Y., Feb., 1852. J. G. K. 
DO IT WELL. 
A noble saying is recorded of a member 
of the British House of Commons, who by 
his own industry and perseverance had won 
his way to that high position. A proud 
scion of the aristocracy one day taunted him 
with his humble origin, saying: “I re¬ 
member when you blacked my fathers boots.” 
AVell sir,” was the noble resposc, “ did I not 
do it well?” 
We indignantly repel tho intimation that 
the laboring man occupies a lower position 
in the scale of society than the wealthy idler. 
He who produces is a nobler man, because 
a more useful member in tho community, 
than he who merely consumes, as the little 
bee who works is a nobler animal than the 
fatter drone that idly cumbers the hive and 
wastes the store. The man who is ashamed 
of honest labor deserves not the reward it 
secures. 
“ Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
Act well your part, there all the honor lies. 
Worih makes the man, the want of it the fellow ; 
And all the rest is leather and prunella.” 
There is no honest calling that can de¬ 
grade a man. Ho is only degraded by an 
unmanly sensitiveness in regard to them, or 
by dissatisfied yearnings after a higher po¬ 
sition, or by indolence in his own sphere.— 
lie who fails to perform faithfully, in an ear- 
nost spirit and careful mind, what are called 
the humbler duties of life, is unfitted to bo 
entrusted with moro responsible offices.— 
Ho who pushes a plane lazily, or handles a 
trowel in a slovenly manner, will never bo 
likely to succeed in any vocation. He may 
whine like an unmanly coward about his 
destiny and poverty, and rail against tho 
distinctions of fortune; but while he cherish¬ 
es an indolent, heartless disposition as a 
workman, the fault of his degradation is in 
his own spirit. No man is likely to rise 
from a comparatively humble position, until 
ho has learned to perform tho labor of that 
position well. He may prate of what he 
would do, if ho could only gain some other 
place, but it would bo better to let the world 
see what he can do where he is. He may 
fancy that he lias great capabilities for suc¬ 
cess in some other sphere, but let it be seen 
how these great capabilities can secure him 
respect and success in his present vocation. 
Wm. Cary was an industrious and good 
shoemaker, and it was the continuance of 
tho energy and assiduity of tho bench that 
made him the most profound scholar of his 
day. John Bunyan was a good tinker, and 
the elements of character exhibited in that 
calling made him a profound and successful 
preacher and writer. Elihu Burritt was a 
laborious blacksmith; he attended to his 
business faithfully; and that same industry 
made him tho ready master of thirty lan¬ 
guages. Joseph and ‘David were faithful 
shepherd hoys, they doubtless guarded their 
Hocks well, folded them carefully, and tho 
qualities there exhibited prepared them to 
become efficient leaders of men. 
“ Becauso thou hast been faithful over a 
fovv things, I will make thee ruler over many 
things,” is a law of Divine Providence, and 
no man lias a right to look for an enlarge¬ 
ment of tho sphere of his duties and re¬ 
sponsibilities for a higher elevation in the 
confidence and regard of men, for the more 
liberal rewards of society, while he sleeps 
fearlessly, or toils sluggishly or murmuring- 
ly over his present duties. “ Whatever, 
then, your hands find to do,” in your ordi¬ 
nary occupations, or in tho useful employ¬ 
ment of your time, “ do it with your might,” 
and do it well. 
“OLD KNICK” AS A BOY. 
There never was a truer picture drawn 
than the following, from the Knickerbocker 
Magazine. Wo used to do so too , and it 
brings back old scenes and sports so feel¬ 
ingly that our eyes moisten and our heart 
softens as wo think of tho times that were. 
It is indeed “a great thing to liavo lived in 
tho country.”— B. 
“JVou? comes hack tho memory of ‘old 
days' in the country ! Wo’vo been engaged 
for half an hour in drawing wood into tho 
old homestead-mansion, on a hand-sled, and 
setting it up end-wise in tho corner of tho 
great generous fire-place, whose wide jambs 
seem to open, oven now, their hospitablo 
arms to welcome us. There is the big two- 
bushel corn-basket of chips, too, that ‘ Olla- 
pod’and ‘Old Knick.,’with twin-faces and 
twin-mittens, have digged from tho vast 
snow-’ placers’ of tho mountainous Ononda¬ 
ga region. That wpod and those chips— 
sweet-maple and sweeter birch, and beech, 
and bass-wood—will furnish melted snow for 
a saccharine ice-cream dessert, when the 
‘ Spitzenberg’ and ‘ Seek-no-furders,’ and 
‘ Greenin’apples are warm in that willow- 
basket, and tho sweet cider is ‘ right,’ in that 
blue pitcher. And after a sound night’s 
sleep, wo shall rise by candle-light, in the 
morning, and then you will soo what that 
wood was brought in for! The ‘ log’ has 
been placed; the ‘ back-log’ has surmount¬ 
ed it; the ‘top-stick’crowns the apex; tho 
‘fore-stick’ rests against the ‘’and-irons;’ 
and tho intermediate ‘ eob-housc’ of timber, 
fired by tho faithful ‘kindling-wood,’ is all 
a-blaze, and roaring up tho chimney. — 
Friends, it is a great thing, at some period 
of your life, to liavo lived in the country.” 
Adversity exaspciatos fools, dejects cow¬ 
ards, draws out tho faculties of tho wise and 
industrious, puts tho modest to the necessity 
of trying their skill, awes tho opulent, and 
makes tho idle industrious. 
He who does his best, however little, is 
always to be distinguished from him who 
does nothing. 
ANECD0T3S OF COLVER AND WHITTIER. 
Many of our rcadors may know Nathaniel 
Colver, as a Baptist preacher, and John 
Greenlcaf Whittier, the Quaker Poet, both 
of New England. 
The former is a largo, wp-standing, bold, 
fearless, and energetic man, with a propor 
tionably small round face, short, stiff, grey 
hair and little, keen black eyes. The latter 
is a thin, spare man, rather tall, a little 
stooping, or slightly bent forward, dark 
complexioned, open, frank countenance, high 
forehead, black hair, dark and heavy eyo - 
brows, with sharp piercing black eyes. 
The ono, a preacher, with language large 
and never wanting in disposition or ability 
to use it. Tho other, a quiet, unassuming, 
Quakerliko personage, never “ moved by tho 
spirit,” or by tho entreaties of friends, to 
“ speak in public, or “ take unto himself a 
wife.” 
Once on a time, some moons ago, our 
preacher found himself of a Saturday night 
in the quiet village of Amesbury, the resi¬ 
dence of the Quaker poet; and being invited, 
spent the Sabbath at this “ Home of the 
Muses.” While at breakfast on Sunday 
morning, the man of poetry said to tho man 
of proso: 
“ Well, friend Colver, art thou going to 
tho Quaker meeting to-day?” 
“ Yes, I think 1 shall,” was tho reply. 
“ Well, thou must bo careful not to say 
anything, for tho ‘ Friends’ liavo recently 
put Beach in prison for disturbing their 
meetings,” said the Quaker. 
“ I will be on my guard,” said the Baptist. 
Thoy wont to tho “ meeting,” and whether 
“ tho angel of the Lord camo down,” or not 
“ silonco reigned around” for the space of 
one hour, when they all arose, shook hands, 
bid “farewell,” and departed. When our 
preacher and poet had returned to their 
room, tho latter says to the former: 
“ Well friend Colver, how did thee liko 
the Quaker meeting?” 
To which the preacher returned the fol¬ 
lowing reply, a Lacones : 
“ Well, John, since thou a Quaker art, 
Go to—I’ll tell thee all my heart: 
Quite plain, hut neat, thy place I found, 
And solemn stillness rei red around ; 
1 took a feat and down I sat, 
And gazed upon a Quaker hat ; 
While all around, in solemn mood, 
I ween «ere thinking something good. 
But 1 still eye that Quaker hat— 
The crown was low, and brim was flat : 
It canopied a noble pate, 
That still in solemn silence sate; 
I thought him thinking of his God, 
When lo! the hat began to nod! 
Then how I longed lo use my speech—• 
I should, but then I thought of * Beach 
I longed his drowsy soul lo waken, 
But thought it host to save my hacon! 
And would you think me such a chap?— 
I O.VVS. IT 171’ AMU TOOK A NAP !” 
MALAGA RAISINS. 
The editor of tho Rochester Advertiser, 
while American Consul at Tangiers, made 
an excursion through tho South of Spain, 
and in the course of his jaunt passed through 
the country in the vicinity ol Malaga, where 
the most delicious raisins are growing. Ho 
thus describes tho very simple manner in 
which tho choicest raisins are prepared : 
You have often partaken of Malaga rai¬ 
sins, that most delicious of all preserved 
fruits, and so have all our countrymen; hut. 
every one may not know how they are pre¬ 
pared. The process is the most simple im¬ 
aginable. As soon as tlio grapes bo«-in to 
ripen, tho vino dressers pass through the 
vineyards and out tho clusters off from the 
vines, and leavo them on the naked ground, 
turning them over daily, until tho heat of 
the sun above, and the warmth of tho earth 
upon which they lie, have baked and dried 
them, when they are gathered up and put 
into boxes, and are ready for use. This is 
all tho wonder and mystery there is in pre¬ 
serving and preparing this delicious fruit. 
To my inquiry why they did not place 
loaves, or some other clean dry substance of 
tho kind upon tho ground for tho fruit to 
lie upon, 1 was told that the naked ground 
was much better, that, in fact, the fine fla¬ 
vor of tho fruit was dependent more on tho 
warmth of tho earth, than tho mere exter¬ 
nal heat of tho sun. Care has to bo taken, 
however, that tho fruit does not get wet 
while undergoing this process. But as it 
seldom rains during tho summer or vintage, 
j in this country, it is very rarely that the 
fruit has to bo taken up before it is fully 
dried. Tho vintago, or season of gathering 
the fruit, commences about the middle of 
August. 
Now, in April, vino dressers are busily 
engaged in hoeing and digging among the 
vines, clearing them of weeds and hilling 
them up, very much as the farmers in the 
states do thoir corn, potatoes, etc. They 
use, for tho purpose, hoes somewhat resem¬ 
bling a pickaxe, excepting that ono side has 
three long prongs, with which they loosen 
the earth very effectively. The soil general¬ 
ly resembles a light and sandy loam, and 
does not appear capable of producing scarco 
any vegetation. But tho grape and olive, 
you know, will flourish where almost any 
other vegetable life would starvo and perish. 
In all parts of tlio south of Spain through 
which I have traveled, from Cadiz to Malaga. 
Grenada, etc., this same barren sterile ap¬ 
pearance of the soil is apparent upon moun¬ 
tains and uplands. The general surface of 
the country is not morely undulating, but 
mountainous to a far greater degree than 1 
had any idea. I do verily believe that these 
arid hills and mountains comprise nine 
tenths of the land in the province of Anda¬ 
lusia, and that the fertilo spots, tho veo-as 
or valleys, only constitute ono tenth But 
these latter are tho gardens of Spain. 
Man secluded, liko nations secluded from 
each other, would ho liko tho silk-worm— 
which, to bo sure, secludes itself in a self- 
woven house, but which cannot remain for 
eternity in that seclusion. It must come 
out. But you know, gentlemen, that when 
the silk-worm leaves its seclusion, it comes 
out only to die.— Kossuth. 
3Cute’ Ifjuirtramt. 
For tiie Rural New-Yorker. 
THE ALPINE HORN. 
The gorgeous gleam of day has rolled 
Far up ihe Alps’ stupenduous height, 
And tinged their tips, like burnished gold, 
In one resplendent blaze of light! 
Each shepherd’s flock is safely penned, 
And now upon the mountain’s crest. 
The crimson smiles of sunset bend. 
Like morn just breaking in the west 1 
But list—what sound breaks on the car ? 
The Alpine Horn hath caught the word, 
Ami rocks, and mountains, fir and near, 
In echoes answer, “Praise the Lo d 1” 
The cavcrncd homes of hoary Time, 
To their primeval gloom restored, 
Give back the words in lengthened chime, 
Replying plainly, “ Praise the Lord !” 
Ah ! w hen tiie cares of day are o’er. 
And evening steals along the sky, 
Whose soft repose shall soon restore 
The sparkle to the languid eye, 
And lift the load which has depressed 
Tiie weary mind, and peace restored. 
Ere mortals seek their couch of rest, 
’Tis meet indeed to “Praise the Lord !” 
Mumford, Jan. 21,1852. Lora Lee. 
FEMALE EDUCATION: 
ITS IMPORTANCE IN A PECUNIARY, AS WEI.I, AS MORAL 
POINT OF VIEW. 
IX A SERIES OF LETTERS.—XO. V. 
! 
; 
i 
i 
i 
My Dear Niece :—The phrase “ Woman’s 
Rights,” is becoming so hackneyed, that I 
take up tho subject with reluctance; yet it 
is one of sufficient importance to demand 
just ideas, I will therefore give my own for 
your consideration. 
The opinion seems to prevail among a 
certain class of our sex, that there ate 
rights of infinite importance that have not 
yet been conceded to us. These agita¬ 
tors certainly possess much earnestness, and 
perhaps I ought to add sincerity, in their 
endeavors to obtain all our rights, and I 
fear, that in their anxiety they grasp at 
some of the prerogatives of man. That 
woman has had all conceded to her, to 
which she is nat urally and justly entitled, 1 
do not admit, but that sho will eventually 
attain all that legitimately belongs to her, I 
think depends on herself-—not through the 
means of “Woman’s Rights Conventions,” 
the ballot box, or hor presence in Legisla¬ 
tive Assemblies, but by a quiet and healthy 
influence on tho minds that will ere long 
guide and control the ramifications of our 
political and social organization. “ Ik Mar¬ 
vel,” in his “ Dream-Lifo,” has asked some 
pertinent questions relative to this subject, 
which I wish every young female would 
justly consider. 
“ Where can the grace of woman’s char¬ 
acter, win a higher and riper effect than up¬ 
on the action of her own household ? What 
mean those noisy declaimers who talk of the 
feeble influence and crushed faculties of 
woman ? What school of moral endeavor, 
depends more on its teacher than the home 
upon tho mother ? What influence of all 
tho world’s professors and teachers, tells so 
strongly on tho habit of a man’s mind, as 
those gentle droppings from a mother’s lips, 
which day by day, and hour by hour, grow 
into the enlarging stature of his soul, and 
livo with it forever? Thoy can hardly be 
mothers, who aim at a broader and noisier 
field; they must have forgotten to bo daugh¬ 
ters ; they must needs have lost the hope of 
being wives!” 
Within a few years past Legislatures in 
some of the States have in many instances 
removed disabilities that bore heavily on fe¬ 
males in regard to the holding of property, 
and there is yet room to do more. I hope 
to sec the legal right (the moral never ex¬ 
isted) every where abolished, that any man 
can have to appropriate the property of his 
wife to his own uso without her consent, 
whether that property is the gil’t of friends 
or tho fruit of her industry. No wife or 
mother, worthy to bear the name, who pos¬ 
sesses property in her own right, will ever 
withold the proper uso of it, for the benefit 
of those she loves. 
That woman is inferior to man in intellect, 
as a general thing, I do not admit; but it is 
evident that lie who know tho end from the 
beginning, lias endowed each sex with attri¬ 
butes peculiar to their physical organization. 
Lot me hero remark, that I am happy to 
bolievo, an increasing knowledge of the 
laws of mind, and health, will in a few gen¬ 
erations, effect a decided improvement in 
tho mental and physical constitution of both 
sexes. 
M. de Tocqueville, a very intelligent 
French writer, who spent considerable time 
in examining tho social and political condi¬ 
tion of our country, has spoken in such 
flattering terms of American women, that I 
cannot forbear making a short extract from 
ins work for the encouragement of those 
who see but the dark aspect of our con¬ 
dition : 
“ American women never manage the out¬ 
ward concerns of tho family, or conduct a 
business, or take a part in political life; nor 
are they on tho other hand, over compelled 
to perform the rough labor of the fields, or 
to make any of those laborious exertions 
which demand tho exertion of physical 
strength. No families are so poor as to 
form an exception to this rulo. 
Hence it is, that the women of America, 
who often exhibit a masculine strength of j 
understanding, and a manly energy, gener¬ 
ally preserve great delicacy of personal ap¬ 
pearance, and always retain the manners of I 
women, although they sometimes show that 
they have the hearts and minds of men. 
* * * * * * V 
In the United Statesmen seldom compli¬ 
ment women, but they daily show how much 
they esteem them. Thoy constantly display 
an entire confidence in the understanding 
of a wife and a profound respect for her free¬ 
dom. They have decided that her mind is 
just as well fitted as that of a man to dis¬ 
cover tho plain truth, and her heart to em- 
braco it, and they have never sought to 
place her virtue, any moro than his under 
the shelter of prejudice, ignorance and fear.” 
After discusssing the subject at consider¬ 
able length, ho closes by saying : “ I havo j 
nowhere seen women occupying a loftier 
position; and if I were asked, to what tlio 
singular prosperity and growing strength of 
this people is mainly to bo attributed, I 
should reply,— to the superiority■ of their 
ivomen.” 
If there are wrongs of women to com¬ 
plain of among us, I believe they are main¬ 
ly attributable to the fact, that her influence 
has been misdirected, from a want of that 
knowledge which constitutes her power.— j 
Any enterprise, energetically sustained by 
a majority of the females, can scarcely fail i 
of success. Tako for instance the cause of | 
temperance. Let every intelligent female, 
fully determine to use her influence for the | 
suppression of intemperance—what moro 
effectual method could sho devise than ope- ! 
rating on tho plastic natures of those chil¬ 
dren, whoso habits and appetites are yet un¬ 
developed ? Think not, young women can 
be excused from their share in effecting re¬ 
forms. Perhaps you will say, we have no 
children, what can we do ? You are sisters, 
and every ono of you are responsible for 
your moral influence on your brothers, and 
the young men in whose society you mingle. 
Should every marriageable young lady in 
our State, who ever hopes to be a wife, adopt 
and abide by a firm resolution to repel tho 
advances of every young man who uses to¬ 
bacco or ardent spirits, I venture to predict 
that in ten years, New York would bo the 
most temperate State in the Union. In 
this way, I think they would do the State a 
greater service than if they were elected 
members of the Legislature, and conducted 
the “hard-pan and quick-sand,” with other 
equally profitable debates, that have eman¬ 
ated from the “ lords of Creation,” convened j 
at Albany. 
We cannot perhaps complain of it as a 
wrong toward us, but there are certain em¬ 
ployments, monopolized by men, that I 
should liko to see delegated to females, as 
they are perfectly adapted to their physical 
powers, and would afford a far better re¬ 
muneration than she can obtain from such 
labors as are within her reach. Drawing, 
engraving, writing, and merchandise in dry 
goods arc among the employments to which 
she is eligiblo, that pay better, and tax her 
energies less, than to ply tho shining steel, 
till the spirit of poor Hood’s “song of tho 
shirt,” is pricked into every fibre of her 
being. 
If a few wealthy merchants, would try i 
the experiment of employing none but fe- ! 
male clerks, it would take but little time to j 
convince all, that such business could be j 
quite as as well done as it now is, and with 
less trouble arising from tho betrayal of I 
trust. If woman is more yielding, she is | 
less exposed to temptations that lead to 
fraud and embezzlement, than young men. 
By such a system, more of our young men 
would bo obliged to seek occupations that 
would be likely to develope better physical 
constitutions, and better moral characters, 
thus procuring a decided advantage to both 
sexes. 
You may ask what this has to do with fe- I 
male education ? I answer, that whatever 
knowledge a female may acquire that will 
assist her in the discharge of her duties, is 
properly a branch of her education—and j 
certainly correct ideas of her “ rights,” and 
of hor “ sphere wil assist her to ward off 
wrongs that may assail her. 
That you may possess the shield of intel¬ 
ligence and virtue, is the wish of 
A Farmer’s Wife. 
Willow-Del! Farm, Feb., 1852. 
Note.— In consequence of the length of No. 4, contain¬ 
ing the promi ed, (and an excellent) true story, we shall 
give it next week in the Rural Sketch Book on last page 
continuing the series this week with Letter V. 
Respect.—N othing sits so gracefully upon 
children, and nothing makes them so lovely 
as habitual respect and dutiful deportment 
toward their parents and superiors; it makes 
tho plainest face beautiful, and gives to 
every common action a nameless but partic¬ 
ular charm. 
