196 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
(Ihumtumal Dfjjatlmmt. j 
BY L. WETHERELL. | 
THE ART OF TEACHING. 
Of all the Arts which engage the atten¬ 
tion of men and women, that of teaching, 
training, and bringing up children aright is 
the most difficult. There is no other voca¬ 
tion that requires so much knowledge, skill 
and aptness—so much patience—such a 
ready tact of adapting aid which is needed 
and is to be imparted to the young learner 
—to know just what to do, wlrnn to do, and 
how to do—not for one, two or three pupils, 
but for all and every one of the forty, sixty, 
eighty or a hundred that may be placed un¬ 
der the care of a single instructor—or, as in 
the case of parents of the one, two, six. 
twelve, twenty, or twenty-three that may be 
entrusted to them for their training and 
nurturing up, both for the life that now is, 
and for that which is to come; for the work 
that is to be done for the child needs to be 
about the same whether done by the parent 
or the one standing in loco parentis, as does 
the teacher. 
Yet, notwithstanding the great difficulty 
attending this art of arts, thero aro multi¬ 
tudes employed in exercising it that know 
as little of the human mind and its various 
functions, as they do of the inhabitants of 
the moon. How strange it is in view of the 
fact, that education and nurture make the 
chief difference between persons as they 
are seen and conversed with in society, that 
parents do not take more interest in the 
great and important work of educating 
their children. What multitudes of parents 
thero are, that would not allow any but an 
artist to make and fit the raiment of the 
child—'SO of preparing the food—but, alas ! 
any body that sets up for a teacher will do 
—no matter whether ho ever read a work 
on mental philosophy, or reflected an hour 
upon the subject or not—or any other phi¬ 
losophy—for of such, the less they have 
read and know, the more difficult it will be 
to tell them any thing. It was said recent¬ 
ly of one of this class in an eastern city, 
by a school officer, after dismissing the 
savan, that he knew too much—for said he, 
“ you could never tell him any thing.” He 
was unfortunately afflicted with that kind 
of illusive blindness which leads one to be¬ 
lieve that he sees every thing, when he re¬ 
ally sees nothing as it is. 
Perhaps there is no other profession, un¬ 
less it be that of preaching, where thero is 
so great a proportion affected by the afore¬ 
said blindness as that of teaching. It has 
been said that, if a man fails of success 
in every other kind of business, he will 
make a minister or a teacher. This is 
assuming the truth of the old adage, that 
“ nothing was made in vain.” How many 
have studied law, and abandoned the pro¬ 
fession and gone to teaching, rather than 
go hungry and be clad in rags. How many 
have tried commercial business and aban¬ 
doned it for the same reason, and gone to 
preaching or teaching, with no bettor suc¬ 
cess probably in either case, a9 a general 
thing—tho only difference being, that the 
failure is more directly manifest to the ob¬ 
server and tho operator in one case, than in 
the other. It is time for parents to see to it, 
and know whether those they employ to 
teach their children aro as well skilled for 
their work, as those are whom they employ 
to make their shoes and clothes; for if it be 
important that tho child bo well clad, is it 
not quite as important that the child him¬ 
self be well made ?—for we read, just as the 
twig is bent, so is the tree inclined. 
The indifference of parents on the im¬ 
portance of a right education of their chil¬ 
dren is most extraordinary. Thoy either 
do not know, or else they do not believe, 
that education makes both the fortune and 
happiness of their children. It was a favor¬ 
ite opinion of Sir William Jones, that “all 
men are born with equal capacity for im¬ 
provement.” Without endorsing the opin¬ 
ion to the fullest extent, we believe the chief 
difference in characters of different persons 
is owing to their education. 
M. Helvetius says that if you take men 
who bring into the world with them the 
original constituents of their nature, their 
mental and bodily frame, in that ordinary 
state of goodness which is common to the 
great body of mankind—-leaving out of the 
account the comparatively small number of 
individuals who come into tho Avorld imper¬ 
fect, and comparatively below the ordinary 
standard—you may regard the whole of this 
great mass of mankind as equally suscepti¬ 
ble of mental excellence, and may trace the 
causes which make them to differ. If this 
be so, the power of education embraces ev¬ 
ery thing between the lowest stage of intel¬ 
lectual and moral rudeness, and the highest 
state, not only of actual, but of possible 
perfection. And if the power of education 
be so immense, the motive for perfecting it 
is great beyond expression. 
Few, perhaps, will embrace without some 
modifications the opinion or conclusion to 
which Helvetius comes; but it will be found 
much easier to reject than to disprove his 
view of the power of education in forming 
human character. Education, in its com¬ 
prehensive sense, includes every influence 
that acts upon the being subject to impres¬ 
sions made by exterior agencies. People 
generally hold very inadequate ideas upon 
this most important of subjects, tho right 
training and educating of the young. 
How can a parent who suitably reflects 
upon this subject, commit his child to one 
in the office of teacher, who does not know 
the first elements of that most wonderful 
power, the human mind ? It is a power— 
and whether it shall bo felt for good or evil 
depends almost entirely upon the kind of 
education, including both domestic and 
scholastic. Tho tailor, if he takes your 
cloth and makes it into garments for your 
children, and if they do not fit the bodies 
for which they wore made, the least ho can 
expect to do is to pay you for the cloth.— 
Not so if you send your children to one who 
fills tho office of teacher—if he through ig¬ 
norance, or want of skill in his profession, 
or unfaithfulness, or any other cause, fails 
to make as good characters as the condition 
of the capacities furnished will allow, lie is 
not in the condition of the tailor Avho could 
pay for the material. Would, alas ! that he 
was—then there Avould be a remedy for an 
evil Avhich has perpetuated itself, and bids 
fair still to do so. The remedy is, however, 
with tho parents; and if they Avill refuse to 
send their children to incompetent teachers, 
and patronise none but the competent, a 
Aviso step will be taken—one that Avill lead to 
reform. 
The art of teaching, then, should be re¬ 
garded as it really is, the highest art known 
to man—tho art of arts—tho very last place 
Avhere any one should think of employing 
an incompetent person. Let all who aspire 
for the office of teacher, then, see that they 
possess the ability, tho knoAvledge, the skill, 
tho aptness to teach, and a love for the of¬ 
fice stronger than the love of its emolu¬ 
ments. 
State Supervision of Schools in Maine. 
The Journal of Education, published in 
Bath, Maine, contains the following para¬ 
graph : 
“ Tho Legislature in its wisdom has abol¬ 
ished tho Board of Education and the 
Teachers’ Institutes—and in lieu thereof, a 
School Commissioner is to be appointed in 
every county, by tho Governor, Avhose duty 
it will be to visit every town Avithin the 
county once a year, and shall receive for his 
services a compensation not exceeding $200 
per yeai\” 
State Supervision, here, avg should judge, 
is pretty effectually laid aside for the pres¬ 
ent. Public supervision of schools, whether 
by State, county, or tOAvn, when it nullifies 
the democratic element, is of doubtful utility 
—aye, more, we consider it positively inju¬ 
rious to the highest success of public schools. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MANAGEMENT OF SCHOOLS. 
I have road the remarks of J. G. Iv. on 
this subject, contained in the Rural, No. 21, 
in answer to mine on tho same subject, (see 
Rural, No. 19,) and am wholly at a loss to 
comprehend the reason of his extreme sen¬ 
sitiveness. How is it possible 'that he has 
so failed to comprehend my meaning ? I 
did not even wish “ to sIioav forth tho erro¬ 
neousness of his A-iews, &c.” It is true, I 
did not commend his article—that was not 
necessary—it commends itself; but as he 
made no exception to a general proposition, 
I wished to shoAv that I had found excep¬ 
tions: and Avnile I stated these, my whole 
communication goes to show the general 
correctness of his vieAvs. Even my refer¬ 
ence to Socialism Avas intended only as an 
illustration. I shall therefore pass over 
several things, that, under other circum¬ 
stances, might require comment, and con¬ 
tent myself Avith one or two brief remarks. 
“ Uniting example Avith precept—pointing 
out the Avrongs (faults) which need correc¬ 
tion, &c., will cause an abandonment of 
them. To this general rule there may be 
exceptions, but patience and a few private 
appeals, &c., will frequently work a refor¬ 
mation.” I once had four boys, nine to 
fourteen years of age, and “ hard cases ” 
they were. Thoy Avould listen to private 
appeals, and oven shed tears under them, 
but when they met together again, they 
would appear to be ashamed of their weak¬ 
ness, and Avould strengthen and encourage 
each other in their former rebellious course. 
I have had others, who, Avhile the rest of 
the school were listening Avith interest to 
some general remarks on politeness, social 
and moral duties and responsibilities, &c., 
would do all in their power to avoid hearing 
what was said, and even look sneoringly 
upon any appeals to their better natures.— 
Would J. G. K. exclude all these from 
school ? But suppose he had tho charge of 
a school under circumstances that did not 
allow him that discretion. 
J. G. K. infers that I am an “advocate 
for the birch,” and adds,—“ I have noticed 
that wherever a birch rod has been located 
in the immediate vjcinity of the “ Masters ” 
desk, &c.” I am no advocate for tho birch, 
or for any other rod, or instrument of tor¬ 
ture, or punishment, except in extreme 
cases, and when all other reasonable means 
fail; nor am I knoAvn by my pupils, either 
in or out of my school, as the “ Master ,” but 
simply as Mr. H. I reckon among my pu¬ 
pils many of my best friends, and never 
fail to secure the good will of all, except 
those whose object in attending school is 
not to learn, but to get rid of learning. 
Down East, June, 1852. H. 
EDUCATION OF THE HEART. 
It is the vice of the ago to substitute 
learning for wisdom; to educate the head and 
forget there is a more important education 
necessary for the heart. The reason is cul¬ 
tivated at an age when nature does not fur¬ 
nish tho elements necessary to a successful 
cultivation of it; and the child is solicited 
to reflection, when it is only capable of sen¬ 
sation and emotion. In infancy tho atten¬ 
tion and the memory are only excited 
strongly by the senses, and move the heart; 
and the father may instil more solid and 
available instructions in an hour spent in 
the fields, where the wisdom and goodness 
are exemplified, seen and felt, than in a 
month spent in the study, where they aro 
expounded in stereotyped aphorism. 
No physician doubts that precocious chil¬ 
dren, fifty cases for one, are much the worse 
for the discipline they have undergone. The 
mind seems to have been strained, and the 
foundation for insanity is laid. 
When the studies of mature years are 
stuffed into the head of a child, people do not 
reflect on the anatomical fact, that the brain 
of an infant is not tho brain of a man; that 
the one is confirmed, and can bear exer¬ 
tions ; and the other is growing, and requires 
repose; that to force the'attention to ab¬ 
stract facts; to load the memory with chron¬ 
ological and historical or scientific detail; 
in short, to expect a child’s brain to bear 
Avith impunity the exertions of a man’s, is as 
irrational as Avould be to hazard the same 
sort of experiment on its muscles. 
The first eight or ten years of life should 
be devoted to the education of the heart— 
to the formation of principles, rather than 
to the acquirement of what is usually term¬ 
ed knowledge. Nature herself points out 
this course, for the emotions are the liveliest 
and most easily moulded; being as yet un¬ 
alloyed by passion. It is from this source 
the mass of men aro hereafter to sIioav their 
sum of happiness or misery. The actions 
of the immense majority are under all cir¬ 
cumstances determined much more by feel¬ 
ing than reflection; in truth, life presents 
an happiness that avo should feel rightly ; 
A-ery few instances occur where it is neces¬ 
sary that we should think profoundly. 
Up to the seventh year of life, very great 
changes are going on in the structure of the 
brain, and demand, therefore, the utmost 
attention, not to interrupt them by improp¬ 
er or over-excitement. Just that degree of 
exercise should bo given to the brain at this 
period that is necessary to its health; and 
the best is moral instruction exemplified by 
objects which strike the senses. 
It is perhaps necessary to add that at this 
period of life special attention, should be 
given, both by parents and teachers to the 
physical deA r elopement of the child. Pure 
air and exercise are indispensable; and, where 
over they aro withheld, tho consequences 
will bo certain to extend themselves over 
tho Avhole future life. The seeds of pro¬ 
tracted and hopeless sufferings have, in 
innumerable instances, been sown in the 
constitution of the child; simply through 
ignorance of this great fundamental physical 
laAv: and the time has come when tho united 
voices of those innocent victims should as¬ 
cend, “ trumpet tongued,” to the ears of 
every parent and every teacher in the land. 
Give us fresh air and wholesome exercise; 
leave our expanding energies to be develop¬ 
ed in accordance to the laws of our being, 
and full of scope for the elastic and bound¬ 
ing impulses of our young blood.— Quar¬ 
terly Review. 
Have a Substantial Mind.— It contrib¬ 
utes mightily to one’s comfort and useful¬ 
ness, to be fully peruaded in his own mind. 
Fulness fortifies and makes fruitful. The 
happy impart thegreatest delight Avhen they 
distribute tho excess of their joy. The se¬ 
cret of moving peoplo consists iiYpersuad- 
ing them, a process in Avhich “ Mr. Great- 
heart” is most successfully employed. The 
giant oak loses none of its vigor in bowing 
to the breeze, nor is the force of the majes¬ 
tic billoAv depreciated by the beauty that 
sparkles on its crest to tho shore. It is not 
absolutely necessary that one should be a 
clown, in order to become the more com¬ 
pletely a saint. 
Something Worthy of Consideration.— 
We commend the sentiment contained in 
the following paragraph to those for whom 
it is written: 
“ Collecting is Avasteful business. When 
a man subscribes for a paper, or buys mer¬ 
chandise, he expects to pay for the article, 
and not for tho privilege of being called up¬ 
on for the money. The collector’s labor 
brings expense upon one party Avithout ben¬ 
efiting the other. Thus it is lost labor. If 
men would volunteer to pay their debts, the 
persons now employed in collecting might 
be producers.” 
We aro not merely working intellectual 
machines, but social puzzles whose solution 
is the work of a life.— Ik Marvel. 
labbatl} Jlcahings. 
SONNET: THE EVENING CLOUD. 
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun; 
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow. 
Long had I watched the glory moving on 
O’er the soft radiance of the lake below, 
Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow; 
E’en in its very motion there was rest 1 
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow, 
Wafted the traveler to the beauteous west, 
Emblem, methought of the departing soul, 
To whose white robe the gleam of light is given; 
And by the breath of mercy, made to roll 
Right onward to the golden gates of heaven, 
Where to the eye of Faith it peaceful lies. 
And tells to Man his gloriouss destinies. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
“WILL YOU JOIN THE DRAGONS, OR THE 
GODS?’ 
BY J. CLEMENT. 
This solemn and startling question, which 
the reader may receive as from the lips of 
a Greek mythologist, I wish to repeat to 
every lad Avhose eye may light upon this 
article. 
As yet, dear youth, the road lies bofore 
you as one track; but you will soon come 
to its forks, if you do not now stand there; 
and the question ■is, which branch will you 
take ? Dragons trail their slime in the one; 
the gods, golden-shod, wave their “ambro¬ 
sial curls” and shower perfume, in tho other. 
The one leads down the thorny defiles of 
transgression, and through tho exorbitant 
toll-gate of infamy to endless ruin; the 
other, up tho flowery slope of obedience, 
across the table-lands of Christian rectitude 
and honor, and on to glory. One is lined 
with pestiferous restauraunts, race-grounds, 
booths, boAvling-alleys and other gambling 
establishments, dram shops, with ball-rooms 
over head, theatres and brothels, all inter¬ 
spersed with poor houses, farms with high 
and metalic picket fences, for petty offend¬ 
ers to cultivate, and stone houses Avith cross¬ 
bars before the AvindoAvs, together Avith a 
galloAvs and smoking pit at the farther end: 
the other is lined with the princely demes¬ 
nes of agriculturists, neat and comfortable 
mechanic shops, magnificent commercial 
AA’are-houses, &c., interspersed with benevo¬ 
lent and literary instiutions, with their spa¬ 
cious library buildings, and Thesperian club 
rooms, and tho senatorial halls of wisdom, 
Avhile at the extreme and highest point 
stands the temple of immortal fame with its 
single door of unmerited grace. Along the 
one route are heard the heartless laugh, the 
horrid oath, the scream of distress, and the 
moan of tho despairing; along the other, 
the voice of innocent cheer, tho musical 
hum of industry, the sapient prattle of soc- 
ond childhood, and the glorious shouts of 
the reapers whose earthly task is ended. 
Young reader, again I ask, which road 
will you take ? Will you craAvl with tho 
dragons or mount Avith the gods ? Tho next 
step you take may decide the question, for¬ 
ever ! A single volition, and that your next, 
may determine the direction of that step. 
Where do you intend to pass the leisuro 
hours of week-day life ? In useful reading 
at home, and in literary, refined and reli¬ 
gious circles abroad; or in the streets, bab¬ 
bling Avith the illiterate and profane, and in 
gambling-house recreations and kindred 
amusements ? In either of tho first two 
places divinities, may Avhisper in your ear; 
in either of the latter, devils ! Where do 
you propose to spend your Sabbaths ? In 
the house of God, or remote from its influ¬ 
ences ? You may form perpetual compan¬ 
ionship with the deities in the sanctuary; 
aAvay from it, you will bo sure, eventually, to 
be introduced to the slimy brood of the old 
serpent. Which have you laid avvay in your 
trunk for the journey of life, the Bible or a 
pack of cards ? Remember, the gods dic¬ 
tated the one ; dragons invented the other, 
and either class will surround him who 
choose their handiwork. 
Your portion is in your hands, young man, 
and you can waste it in riotous living and 
become an eternal companion of the father 
of dragons; or you may devote it to the 
purchase of Truth, Avhich will servo as a 
passport to celestial halls, to go no more out 
forever. “ Will you join the dragons, or the. 
gods T 
Touching Incident.— Shortly after Mrs. 
Judson left Calcutta, on her return home, 
she found herself almost overcome by a 
sense of her loneliness and the recollections 
of those painful trials through which she 
had passed. On one occasion “ while in her 
cabin weeping, a soft little hand touched her 
arm, and a very sweet voice said, ‘ Mamma, 
though I take the wings of the morning and 
dAvell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even 
there shalt thy hand lead me, and thy right 
hand shall hold me.’ ‘Is that true, mamma?’ 
The bearer of this timely and and precious 
Avord of hope Avas her little son, a boy of six 
years, avIio had crept into the cabin unob¬ 
served.” 
You think too much of me as a man. No 
author can be as moral as his works, as no 
preacher is as pious as his sermons.— J. P. 
Ritcher. 
WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
In Arvine’s Cyclopaedia of Anecdotes, re¬ 
cently published, the following is related re¬ 
specting this distinguished American artist: 
The strong devotional feelings of this late 
distinguished artist formed one of the most 
prominent traits of his beautiful character. 
Connected with this characteristic is a re¬ 
markable incident in his early life, which 
has been related to us by one of his few in¬ 
timate friends. Mr. Allston was a member 
of the Episcopal church. Although in early 
life he was ever a constant attendant, he 
was not strongly attached to roligion, nor 
eminent for his piety. It Avould be too much 
to say that he was an unbeliever, or even a 
sceptic, in his view’s, but ho Avas wont to 
speak lightly of religious things, and even 
to enjoy jests at the expense of holy sub¬ 
jects. His feelings, hoAvever, underwent a 
remarkable change, in consequence of a sin¬ 
gular event in his life, which made a very 
strong impression, and was even regarded 
by him as a direct divine interposition in his 
behalf. 
Not long after his marriage with his first 
wife, the sister of the late Dr. Channing, he 
made his second visit to Europe. After a 
residence there of a little more than a year, 
his pecuniary wants became very pressing 
and urgent—more so than at any other pe¬ 
riod of his life. He was even at times at a 
loss for the means of purchasing the neces¬ 
saries of life. 
On one of these occasions, as he himself 
used to narrate the event, he was in his 
studio, reflecting, almost with a feeling of 
desperation, upon his condition. His con¬ 
science seemed to tell him that he had de¬ 
served his afflictions and drawn them upon 
himself, by his neglect of religion, and his 
want of due gratitude for past favors from 
Heaven. His heart, all at once, seemed fill¬ 
ed Avith the hope that God would listen to 
his prayers, if he would offer up his direct 
expressions of penitence, and ask for divine 
aid. Ho accordingly locked his door, with¬ 
drew to a corner of tho room, throw him¬ 
self upon his knees, and prayed for a loaf 
of bread for himself and wife. 
While thus employed a knock was heard 
at the door. A feeling of momentary 
shame at being detected in this position, 
and of fear lest he might have been observ- 
ed, induced him to hasten and open tho 
door. A stranger inquired for Mr. Allston. 
Ho Avas anxious to learn who avus tho for¬ 
tunate purchaser of the painting of the An¬ 
gel Uriel, regarded by tho artist as one of 
his master-pieces, and which had won tho 
prize at the exhibition of the Academy.— 
He Avas told that it had not been sold. 
“ Can it bo possible ? Not sold ? Where 
is it to be had ?” 
“ In this very room. Here it is,” produc¬ 
ing tho painting from a cornor, and wiping j 
off the dust. 
“ Is it for sale ? Can it be bought T Avas ! 
tho eager interrogatory. 
“ It is for sale ; but its value has nover yet, j 
to my idea of its worth, been adequately ap¬ 
preciated, and I Avould not part with it.” 
“ What is its price ?” 
“ I have done affixing any nominal sum. 
I have always so Jar exceeded my offers, I 
leave it for you to name the price.” 
“ Will four hundred pounds bo an ade¬ 
quate recompense ?” 
“ It is more than I have ever asked for it.” | 
“ Then tho painting is mine.” 
Tho stranger introduced hiinsolf as the 
Marquis of Stafford, and ho became, from 
that moment, one of the warmest friends of 
Mr. Allston. By him Mr. Allston was in¬ 
troduced to the society of the nobility and 
gentry, and ho became one of the most fa¬ 
vored among the many gifted minds that 
adorned the circles to which ho AA-as thus in¬ 
troduced, but in Avhich he was never fond of 
appearing often. 
The instantaneous relief thus offered by 
the liberality of this noble visitor, Avas al¬ 
ways regardod by Allston as a direct answer 
to his prayer, and it made a deep impres¬ 
sion upon his mind. To this event he ■was 
ever after wont to attribute the increase of 
devotional feelings which became a promi¬ 
nent trait in his character. 
WOMAN’S GRAVE. 
I can pass by the tomb of a man with 
someAvhat of calm indifference ? but A\ r hen I 
survey the grave of a female, a sigh involun¬ 
tarily escapes me. With the holy namo of 
woman, I associate every soft, tender, and 
delicate affection. I think of her'as tho 
young and bashful virgin, with eyes spark¬ 
ling, and cheeks crimsoned with each im¬ 
passioned feeling of the heart; as the chaste 
and virtuous matron, tried with the follies 
of the avo rid, and preparing for the grave 
to which she must soon descend. Oh ! thero 
is something in contemplating tho character 
of a woman, that raises the soul far above 
the level of society. She is formed to adorn 
and humanize mankind, to soothe his cares 
and streAv his path Avith floAvers. In the 
hour of distress, she is the rock on which 
he leans for support, and when fate calls 
him from existence, hor tears bedeAv his 
grave. Can you look upon her tomb Avith¬ 
out emotion ? Man has always justice done 
to his memory; Avoman nover. The pages 
of history lie open to the one; but the meek 
and unobtrusive excellencies of tho other 
sleep with her unnoticed in the grave. In 
her may have shone the genius of a poet 
Avith the A’irtues of a saint. She, too, may 
have passed along the sterile path of exist¬ 
ence, and feTt for others as I now feel for hor. 
Happiness is in our breasts; avo would not 
have a greater share of it if we Avere to ex¬ 
tend the limits of our meadows and our 
vineyards. Happiness is not measured like 
land by the acre; it is measured by tho con¬ 
tentment of the heart, for it is God’s will 
that the poor shall have as much of it as the 
rich, in order that neither the rich or poor, 
should think of importing it from any but 
Him.— Lamartine. 
