MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
MiTOllimraus. 
THE CONTENTED WIPE, 
-— 
I would not change this happy scene 
For all the earth calls proudly great; 
I would not change my humble home 
For kingly rank or queenly state. 
I would not change my husband’s love 
For all that earth can give of fame; 
Nor barter his approving smile 
To wreath a halo round my name 1 
I would not change my child’s sweet glance 
For all the love earth’s wealth could gain ; 
Nor change the certain bliss I feel, 
For all ambition might obtain. 
\|'hat blessings, great and numberless, 
My God with sweetest hopes hath blent— 
A happy home, endearing friends, 
With health, and love, and true content. 
CIVILIZING AND REFINING INFLUENCE 
OF POETRY. 
Strange as it may soom, in every com- 
| munity may bo found civilized people who 
can discover no use for poetry, and who re¬ 
gard its manufacturers of about as much 
real service in the world as they do the 
garrulous and mischievous minstrels of tho 
field and forest. It is needless to say that 
such a notion is harbored by those minds 
only which are undisturbed by philosophical 
inquisitiveness. 
Poetry is tho earliest species of a nation’s 
literature. Ballads havo been sung by a 
people before they had learned to read. As 
Dr. Blair remarks, “poets and songs are 
the first objects that make their appearance 
in all nations. Apollo, Orpheus and Am- 
piiion were tho first tamers of mankind 
among tho Greeks. Tho Gothic nations had 
their scalders. Tho Celtic tribes had their 
bards. Poems and songs were among the 
antiquities of all countries.” 
When Homer sang his rude numbers to 
tho throngs that gathered about him, Gre¬ 
cian literature was in its forming state; and 
when tho sober sire and tho laughing youth 
repeated his measures, they were practising 
the first lessons in literature, and were under 
its mightiest influence. The historical truths 
and lofty sentiments embodied in his mu¬ 
sical language, had an enlightening, eleva¬ 
ting and softening tendency upon the Greek 
mind; and to the cultivation of poetry 
may bo traced almost all its early refine¬ 
ment. 
What Homer was to Greece, Virgil was 
to Rome; Petrarch, with two or three broth¬ 
er minstrels to Italy in later times ; Ciiaucer 
x to England; Gessneii to Switzerland, and 
several other poets to as many other na¬ 
tions. Some writer has very justly affirm¬ 
ed that it is Milton and other poetic spirits, 
“ w ho have made earth what it is—who have 
diffused the elements of thought and scat¬ 
tered imporishablo images of beauty tliro’- 
out tho universe.” 
To persons who aro blind to the virtues 
of verso, I would, in conclusion, commend 
tho following remarks of tho late Dr. Chan- 
ning. He is speaking of poetry: “It lifts 
tho mind above ordinary life; gives it a res¬ 
pite from distressing cares, and awakens its 
consciousness of affinity with what is pure 
and noble. In its legitimate and highest 
efforts, it has tho same tendency and aim 
with Christianity; that is, to spiritualize our 
nature. Poetry has a natural alliance with 
our best affections. Its great tendency and 
purpose is, to carry tho mind beyond and 
above tho beaten, dusty, weary walks of or¬ 
dinary life, to lift it into a purer element, 
and to breathe into it more profound and 
generous emotions. It reveals to us tho 
loveliness of nature; brings back the fresh¬ 
ness of early feelings ; revives the relish of 
simple pleasures; keeps unquonched tho 
enthusiasm which warmed tho spring time 
of our being; refines youthful love; strength¬ 
ens our interest in human nature, by vivid 
delineations of its tenderest and loftiest 
feelings; spreads our sympathies over all 
classes of society; knits us by new ties with 
universal being; and through the bright¬ 
ness of it prophetic visions, helps faith to 
lay hold on the future life.” j. c. 
Buffalo, Jan. 30, 1852. 
THE RAIN. 
“ Call it not accursed, my son. Oh no! 
Remember that every drop that falls bears 
into the bosom of the earth a quality of 
beautiful fertility. Remember that each 
glorious tree and herb, and shrub, and flower, 
owes to those drops its. life, its freshness’ 
and its beauty. Remember that half the 
loveliness of the green world is all their gift; 
and that without them wo should wander 
through a dull desert, as dusty as the grave. 
Take but a single drop of rain, cloistered in 
tho green fold of a blade of grass, and pour 
upon it ono ray of tho morning sun, where 
will you get lapidary, with his utmost skill, 
to cut a diamond that shall shino like that? 
Oh no! blessed forever bo tho beautiful 
drops of the sky, tho refreshing soothers of 
the seared earth, tho nourishers of the flow¬ 
ers, that calm race of beings which are all 
loveliness and tranquility, without passion, 
or pain, or desire, or disappointment, whoso 
life is beauty, and whose breath is .perfume.” 
— G. P. JR. James. 
CIVILITY IS NEVER LOST. 
One little act of politeness will sometimes 
: pave the way to fortune and preferment.— 
The following sketch illustrates this fact. 
A sailor, roughly garbed, was sauntering 
through the streets of New Orleans, then 
in a rather damp condition, from recent 
rain and tho rise of the tide. Turning the 
corner of a much frequented and narrow 
alley, he observed a young lady standing in 
perplexity, apparently measuring the depth 
of the muddy water between her and the 
opposite sidewalk, with no very satisfied 
countenance. 
The sailor paused, for he was a great 
admirer of beauty, and certainly the face 
that peeped out from under the little chip 
hat, and the auburn curls hanging glossy 
and unconfined over her muslin dress, might 
tempt a curious, or an admiring glance.— 
Perplexed, the lady put forth one littlofoot, 
when the gallant sailor, with characteristic 
impulsiveness, exclaimed, “ That pretty foot, 
lady, should not bo soiled with the filth of 
this lane; wait for a moment only, and I 
• will make you a path.” 
» So springing past her into a carpenter’s 
. shop opposite, ho bargained for a plank 
board that stood in tho doorway, and com- 
| ing back to tho smiling girl who was just 
1 coquettish enough to accept the services of 
1 the handsome young sailor, lie bridged the 
narrow black-stream, and she tripped across 
with a merry “ thank you,” and a roguish 
smile, making her eyes as dazzling as they 
could be. 
Alas! our young sailor was perfectly 
charmed. What else would make him catch 
up and shoulder the plank, and follow tho 
little witch through tho streets to her homo, 
sho twice performing the ceremony of “ walk¬ 
ing tho plank,” and each time thanking him 
with one of her eloquent smiles. Presently 
our hero saw tho young lady trip up tho 
marble steps of a palaco of a house, and 
disappear within its rosewood entrance; for 
a full minute he stood looking at tho door, 
and then with a wonderfully big sigh turned 
away disposed of his drawbridge, and wend¬ 
ed his path back to his ship. 
Tho next day ho was astonished with an 
order of promotion from the captain. Poor 
Jack was speechless with amazement; he 
had not dreamed of being exalted to the 
dignity of a second mate’s office on board 
one of the most splendid ships that sailed 
out of the port of New Orleans. Ho knew 
ho was competent, for instead of spending 
his money for amusements, visiting theatres 
and bowling-alleys, on his return from sea, 
he purchased books and had become quite 
a student; but ho expected years to inter¬ 
vene before his ambitious hopes would bo- 
realized. 
His superior officers scorned to look upon 
him with considerable leniency, and gave 
him many a fair opportunity to gather mari¬ 
time knowledge; and in a year, tho hand¬ 
some, gentlemanly young mate had acquir¬ 
ed unusual favor in tho eyes of Captain 
Hume, who had first taken tho smart little 
black-eyed fellow with his neat tarpaulin, 
and tidy bundle, as his cabin boy. 
One night tho young man with all tho 
other officers, was invited to an entertain¬ 
ment at the captain’s house. He went, and 
to his astonishment, mounted tho identical 
steps that, two years beforo, the brightest 
vision he had ever seen, passed over; a vis¬ 
ion he had never forgotten. Thump, thump, 
wont his brave heart, as ho was ushered into 
the great parlor; and like a sledge-hammer 
it beat again when Captain Ilumo brought 
forward his blue-oyed daughter, and with a 
pleasant smile, said, “ Tho young lady once 
indebted to your politeness for a safe and 
dry walk homo.” His eyes weroall a-blaze, 
and his brown cheeks flushed hotly, as tho 
noblo captain sauntered away, leaving fair 
Grace Hume at his side. And in all that 
assembly was not so handsome a couple as 
the gallant sailor and tho “pretty ladie.” 
It was only a year from that time that 
the second mate trod tho quarter deck, 
second only in command, and part owner 
with the captain, not only in his vessel, but 
in tho affections of his daughter, gentle 
Grace Ilumo, who had always cherished re¬ 
spect, to say nothing of love, for tho bright 
eyed sailor. 
His homely, but earnest act of politeness 
toward his child, had pleased tho captain, 
and, though tho youth knew it not, was tho 
cause of his first promotion. So that now 
the old man has retired from business, Hen¬ 
ry Wells is Captain Wells, and Grace Ilumo 
is, according to polite parlance, “Mrs. Cap¬ 
tain Wells.” In fact, our honest sailor is 
one of tho richest men in tho Crescent City, 
and ho owes perhaps, the greater part of 
his prosperity to his tact and politeness in 
crossing the street.— Olive Branch. 
BUSINESS NECESSARY. 
The experience of all demonstrates that a 
regular systematic business is essential to tho 
health, happiness, contentment, and useful¬ 
ness of man. Without it ho is uneasy, un¬ 
settled, miserable and wretched. His de¬ 
sires havo no fixed aim, his ambition no high 
and noble ends. He is tho sport of vision¬ 
ary dreams and idle fancies—a looker-on 
where all are busy, a drone in the hive of 
industry; a moper in the field of industry 
and labor. If such wero tho lot of the 
feeble and helpless only, it wore less to bo 
deplored; but it is oftencr tho doom and 
curse of those who have tho nower to do, 
without tho will to act, and wno need that 
quality which makes so many others, but tho 
want of which unmakes them—the quality 
of vigor and resolution. Business is tho 
grand -regulator of life. 
Industry is not only the instrument of 
improvement, but the foundation of pleas¬ 
ure. die who is a stranger to it may pos¬ 
sess, but cannot enjoy; for it is labor only 
that gives relish to pleasure. It is tho ap¬ 
pointed vehicle to every good to man. 
STOTHARD, THE FAINTER. 
A work recently published in England— 
“ The Life of Thomas Stothard, R. A., by 
Mrs. Bray”—gives the following among other 
reminiscences of the artist : 
Few things in nature were considered be¬ 
low the attention of his most observant 
mind. If ho wanted to make himself ac¬ 
quainted with any natural object, he always 
drew it. It any of his children asked him 
a question relating to a bird or animal, ho 
instantly took up the pencil and sketched, 
by way of illustrating the explanation lie 
gave in reply. As to himself, in order more 
fully to understand what might be required 
if he had occasion to introduce an animal 
in a picture, he would often draw even the 
skeleton of it. One, of the entire elephant, 
where every bone is most carefully distin¬ 
guished, is still in the possession of his son 
Alfred. It is in pen and ink. Several of 
his fine studies from living creatures, such 
iis the lion, tiger, tho leopard, etc., are to be 
found in the collections of tho admirers of 
his works. In sketching animals, he was as 
remarkable for observing the grace of form 
and action as in drawing the human figure. 
He was beginning to paint the figure of a 
reclining sylph, when a difficulty arose in 
his own mind, how best to represent such a 
being of fancy. A friend who was present 
said, “ Give tho sylph a butterfly’s wing, and 
there you havo it.” “ That I will.” exclaim¬ 
ed Stothard; “and to be correct, I will paint 
the wing from the butterfly itself.” He im¬ 
mediately sallied forth, extended his walk 
to tho fields some miles distant, and caught 
one of those beautiful insects; it was of the 
class called the peacock. Our artist brought 
it carefully home, and commenced sketching 
it. but not in tho painting-room; and leav¬ 
ing it on tho table, a servant—[ know not¬ 
h' it were the Irish damsel—swept the pret¬ 
ty little creature away, before its portrait 
was finished. 
On learning his loss, away went Stothard 
once more to the fields to seek another but¬ 
terfly. But at this time ono of the tortoise 
shell tribe crossed his path, and was secured. 
Ho was astonished at the combination of 
color that presentod itself to him in this 
small but exquisite work of the Creator; and 
from that moment determined to enter on 
a new and delightful field—the study of the 
insect department of natural history. He 
bc.came a hunter of butterflies; the more he 
caught, the greater beauty did he trace in 
their infinite variety; and he would often 
say that no one knew what ho owed to these 
insects—they had taught him the finest 
combinations in that difficult branch of art, 
coloring. 
Not, however, in butterflies only, but in 
evory thing, Stothard was an indefatigable 
student of nature. He went no where with¬ 
out a sketch book, and nothing struck his 
eye or his fancy but it was transferred to it; 
he recommended this practice to others, 
with tho injunction nover to alter any thing 
when absent from tho object drawn; he said 
that, unless this rule was observed, all tho 
spirit of the sketch would be lost. In his 
walks to Ivor—about eighteen miles from 
London—whither he ofter went accompani¬ 
ed by his son Alfred, to visit his aunt, Mrs. 
Hales, after they had passed Acton, ho would 
say, “Now, let us leave the high road and 
away to the fields and the hedges; wo shall 
find there some beautiful plants, well worth 
seeking.” No sooner had they done so than ’ 
the sketch book and color box were brought 
forth from his pocket, and many a wild plant, 
with its delicate formation of leaf and flower, 
was carefully copied on the spot. This was 
dono with a fine pen filled with the tints 
required; the springing of tho tendrils from 
the stem, and every elegant bend and turn 
of the leaves, or tho drooping of a bell, was 
observed and depicted with tho utmost 
beauty, 
EXPANDING THE CHEST. 
Those in easy circumstances, or who pur¬ 
sue sedentary employment within doors, use 
their lungs but little, breathe but little air 
in tho chest, and thus, independently of 
positions, contract a wretchedly small chest, 
and lay the foundation of the loss of health 
and beauty. All this can bo perfectly ob¬ 
viated by h, little attention to the manner of 
breathing. Recollect, the lungs are like a 
bladder in their structure, and can be 
stretched open to doublo tho size with per¬ 
fect safety, giving a noble chest and perfect- 
immunity from consumption. 
The agent, and onlyjagent required, is the 
common air we breathe, supposing, however, 
that no obstacle oxists, external to the chest, 
such as tying it around with stays, or hav¬ 
ing tho shoulders lie upon it. On rising 
from tho bed, in tho morning, place yourself 
in an orect posture, with your chest thrown 
back, and shoulders entirely off from the 
chest; now inhale all the air you can, so as 
to fill your chest to tho very bottom of it. 
so that no more air can bo got in; now hold 
your breath and throw your arms off be¬ 
hind—hold your breath as long as possible. 
Repeat those long breaths as many times as 
you please. Done in a cold room it is much 
better, because the air is much,denser, and 
will act much more powerfully in expand¬ 
ing tho chest. Exercising the chest in this 
manner, it will become flexible and expansi¬ 
ble, and will enlarge the capacity and size 
of the lungs.— Scientific American. 
There is no need of wandering widely to 
catch incident or adventure: they are every 
where about us; each day is a succession of 
escapes and joys; not perhaps clear to the 
world, but brooding in our thought, and liv¬ 
ing in our brain. From the first, Angels 
and Devils aro busy with us, and wo are 
struggling against them, and for them.— Ik. 
Marvel. 
He is a good friend who supplies our 
wants, but he is a bettor one who anticipates 
them. Showors that are prayed for always 
come too late. 
lute’ Drjnirtnmit. 
FEMALE EDUCATION: 
ITS IMPORTANCE IN A PECUNIARY, AS WRLL AS MORAL 
POINT OF VIEW. 
IN A SERIES OF LETTERS.—NO. VI. 
My Dear Niece :—Allow me to enforce 
on you, tho obligation all tire under, to la¬ 
bor for the great household of mankind in 
whatever manner their abilities may be ren¬ 
dered most efficient—and because females 
are obliged by the present constitution ot' 
society to labor in a more circumscribed 
sphere, let them not suppose they are in 
the least exempted from that obligation. I 
would not throw the whole responsibility of 
forming tho characters of children on the 
mother, for I believe there exists in many 
natures, inherent tendencies, that even the 
wisest mothers cannot control or subdue.— 
Tho effort is one of her appropriate labors, 
and who can calculate the extent of her in¬ 
fluence !—it does not cease even with her 
life, but oxtends to future generations.— 
Should it not then bo considered a mat¬ 
ter of flrst importance, that tho laborers 
shall bo so prepared for their work that 
they may bo of the greatest possible bene¬ 
fit to mankind. Since I entered this de¬ 
partment of labor, it has caused much 
regret, that of little of my tiino in 
youth was spent in preparation for tho 
task. The courso of reading pursued by 
many young ladies is not at all calculated 
to advance this preparation—I mean that 
I kind, which too often sweeps from the mind 
' every thing not painted in the glowing tints 
of fiction and romance. I am happy to say 
there are many more exceptions in favor of 
tho modern school of fiction, than among 
works of that class previous to the days of 
Sir Walter Scott. 
I, think there aro many hard working 
women who perhaps do not dovote any por¬ 
tion of their time to household employ¬ 
ments. Who will say that such women as 
Mrs. Sigourney, Miss Sedgwick, Mrs. 
Childs, Miss Beecher and many others do 
not work ?—and the labor of tho brain is not 
the easiest kind of work. 
Tho celebrated George Combe says: 
“ The natural law appears to bo, that every 
one who desires to enjoy the pleasures of 
health, must expend in labor tho energy 
which the Creator has infused into his limbs. 
A wido choice is left to man, as to the mode 
in which he shall exercise his nervous and 
muscular systems. The laborer for exam¬ 
ple, digs tho ground, and tho squire engages 
in the chase; both pursuits exerciso the 
body. The penalty for neglecting this law, 
is imperfect digestion and disturbed sleep, 
debility, bodily and mental lassitude, and, if 
carried to a certain length, confirmed bad 
health, and early death. The penalty for 
over exerting these systems is exhaustion, 
mental incapacity, the desire for strong ar¬ 
tificial stimulants, general insensibility, 
grossness of feeling and preception, with 
diseased and shortened life. 
“ Society has not recognised this law; and 
in consequence, the higher orders despise 
labor, and suffer the first penalty, while the 
lower orders aro oppressed with toil, and 
undergo the second. The penalties sc/ve 
to provido motives for obedience to the law; 
and wherever it is recognized, and the con¬ 
sequences are considered to be inevitably 
men will no longer shun labor as ignomini¬ 
ous, but resort to it as a source of pleasure 
and advantage.” 
The time is fast approaching, and would 
I could say, “even now is,” when a femalo 
may take her appropriate place in society, 
without tho questions being asked, what 
does her husband or father do ? How does 
she dress ? What style do they live in ? 
What church does sho attend ? Do they 
keep servants ? &c., &c. I verily behove 
there is a spirit abroad, which is hastening 
the time, when a cultivated intellect, and 
real moral excellence, whether they exist in 
the school-toaeher, the seamstress, or the 
domestic, will be the “sesame” that will 
open evory circle. 
In whatever station in life your lot may bo 
cast, be careful always to maintain a proper 
respect for yourself ; unless you do, no ono 
will respect you. Ono great reason that 
girls who labor as domestics in families, are 
so often thought beneath the standard of 
respectability is because they are deficient 
in self-respect, and that principle of right 
that would raise them above petty annoyan¬ 
ces, and teach them the relative duties of the 
employer and the employed. 
I am thoroughly convinced that every 
girl - who faithfully understands, and per¬ 
forms her duties, in our republican country, 
cannot fail to become the valued friend, in¬ 
stead of tho menial, in every intelligent and 
well-regulated family. But alas ! the rela¬ 
tion of mistress and servant, is too often a 
series of unjust exactions and oppression on 
ono side, and unfaithfulness and peculations 
on the other, without a thought on either 
side, that there should exist mutual con¬ 
cessions, or any community of interest. 
In regard to dress I would have you always 
neatly, but never gaily dressod; and be par¬ 
ticularly careful to have your dress appropri¬ 
ate to the occasion. An old clergyman wri¬ 
ting on this subject to a young lady says of 
“ Emilia,” “I do not know a person who dress¬ 
es better ; sho is happy in her choice of col¬ 
ors ; liko her virtues they are of the soft and 
shaded kind, not tho brilliant or the gaudy. 
Sho is seldom splendid, but neatness is all 
her own.” 
However people may affect to disregard 
dress, it is not to be denied that it is no in¬ 
inconsiderable feature from which first im¬ 
pressions aro formed. Truo, wo may not 
be in a situation to indulge or display much 
taste, but dress can always be simple and 
neat. Thus, if wo see a lady at church, 
who attracts attention by her dazzling ex¬ 
terior, wo strongly suspect her of paying 
that attention to adorning her person, which 
bolongs to tho f^'scipline of tho mind.— 
Neatness, not finery, is the natural'garb of a 
well ordered mind, and is closely allied to 
purity of heart. On tho whole, my dear 
girl, as a reasonable creature, and a Christian, 
never suffer yourself to bo led away by .a 
love of dress. How very poor and low is 
the ambition to outshino others in apparel. 
Yet it is a rock on which thousands of fe¬ 
males havo wrecked their all of happiness, 
and usefulness in life. 
Upon tho subject of your deportment 
toward tho other sex, I might perhaps fill a 
volume with good advice, and yet you would 
be no better prepared to act wisely, than if 
left to follow tho dictates of your own pure 
heart, and well-grounded principles of moral 
rectitude and virtue. 
It is a melancholy truth that man too 
often prostitutes his boasted faculties to tho 
destruction of femalo happiness. How 
necessary then to fortify your minds against 
the attacks of such vile seducers! Blem¬ 
ishes in femalo character aro seldom ef¬ 
faced. Not so with man; ho tarnishes his 
name and brightens it again. But if wo¬ 
man chanco to swervo from the strictest 
rules of virtue, 
“ Ruin ensues, repronch and endless shame, 
And one false step forever blasts her fame. 
Ill vain With tears, the loss she may deplore, 
In vain, look back to what she was before, 
She sets, like stars that fall to rise no more.” 
Thero aro other subjects to which your 
attention might be properly drawn, but I 
will take leave of you for tho present by 
recommending to your careful attention 
the following “Advice to Youthful Females,” 
which is to be found in a very proper place 
—a common school Spelling Book, not yet 
obsolete in some localities. I could never 
peruse its beautiful language without feel¬ 
ing a thrill liko that produced by sweet 
chords of music. Would, that every future 
matron of the State could read and profit 
by its precepts: 
“Listen fair daughter of innocence, to 
the instructions of prudence, and let the 
precepts of truth, sink deep into thy 
heart, so shall the charms of thy mind add 
lustre to the eleganco of thy form, and thy 
beauty, like the rose it resembles, shall re¬ 
tain its sweetness when its bloom is with¬ 
ered. 
Rcmembor thou art made man’s reason¬ 
able companion. Tho end of thy being, is 
to> assist him in tho toils of life, to soothe 
him with thy tenderness, and to recompense 
his cares with soft endearments. 
Who is she that wins the heart of man, 
that subdues him to love, and reigns in his 
breast ? Lo ! yonder sho walks in maiden 
sweetness, with innocence in her mind, and 
modesty on her cheek. Her hands seek 
employment; her feet delight not in gad¬ 
ding abroad. 
She is clothed with neatness; she is fed 
with temperance; humility and meekness 
are as a crown of glory encircling her head. 
When virtue and modesty enlighten her 
charms, sho is beautiful as the stars of 
Heaven. 
The innocence of her eye is like that of 
the turtle; simplicity and truth dwell in 
her heart. 
Sho presides in tho house and thero is 
peace; sho commands with judgment, and 
is obeyed. 
She rises in the morning, considers her 
affairs, and appoints to hor maidens their 
proper business. 
Tho care of her family is her delight, and 
elegance with frugality is seen in her man¬ 
sion. 
Tho prudence of her management is an 
honor to her husband, and he hears her 
praise with a secret delight. 
She informs the minds of her children 
with wisdom, and fashions their manners 
with the example of her own goodness. 
The word of hor mouth is tho law of 
their youth; the motion of her eye com¬ 
mands obedience. 
In prosperity she is not puffed up; and in 
adversity she heals the wounds of fortuno 
with patienco. 
Happy is the man whose life is blessed 
with such a partner; happy is tho child that 
calls her mother. 
That such may be thy happy state fair 
daughter of America, listen to the direction 
of wisdom, and regulate thy heart and life 
by the principles of piety and virtue.” 
Believe mo my dear niece, with truo af¬ 
fection, Ever Yours, 
A Farmer’s Wife. 
Willow-Dell Farm, Feb., 1852. 
Every day brings forth something for 
tho mind to be exercised on, either of a 
mental or external nature; and to be faith¬ 
ful in it and acquit ourselves with the ad¬ 
vantage designed thereby, is both wisdom 
I and duty. 
