MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
fMical. 
For the New-Yorker. 
LINES: SHE IS DEAD!* 
She is dead. 
Breathe it softly, mournfully— 
Gently close the beaming eye— 
Smoothly lay the raven hair 
From the brow all pure and fair ; 
Draw the white robe o’er her breast, 
Fold her hands thereon to rest. 
Kiss with love and fondness now, 
Smiling lip, and cheek, and brow, 
Look once more on that sweet face, 
Gaze the last, long, lingering gaze, 
There, now bear her to her rest; 
Lay the green turf on her breast, 
For she is dead. 
She is dead. 
Withered in the joyous spring 
Of her young life’s blossoming; 
Faded when her dreams were bright, 
Wearied while her steps were light, 
Drooped she when Hope brightly beamed. 
Died, when life all joyous seemed. 
Spring birds spread their wings on high, 
When she folded hers to die; 
Zephyrs bore glad strains along 
When she hushed her spirit song; 
Flowers bloomed and earth was fair, 
When we left her resting there, 
And she was dead. 
No, not dead. 
Only “ for a season gone,” 
Ye who loved her, one by one, 
May, if only just in this, 
Meet her in the land of bliss. 
Oh! ye grieve, and wonder why 
She, the loved so soon must die : 
But above are spirits twain, 
Folding to their hearts again 
Her they fondly cherished here, 
With a parent’s hope and fear. 
Ye mourn for your blossoms gone— 
They rejoice o’er theirs come home. 
For she’s not dead. 
She is not dead. 
She hath closed the last great strife 
'Twixt her and eternal life; 
Her long struggling soul is free, 
Bright with immortality. 
Soars she on untiring wings 1 
Never ending songs she sings; 
Wearies not for aye to roam 
’Mid celestial balm and bloom. 
Oh! the tomb is lone and drear, 
When we think our loved ones there : 
But whene’er our spirit’s eye 
Follows them from earth to sky, 
Then the grave’s the gate of flowers, , 
Where they entered heavenly bowers; 
For they ’re not dead. 
Kate Woodland. 
* On the death of Almira R. Fuller, who died in Carl¬ 
ton, May 4th, 1852, aged 16 years. 
compact between man and man; in fact a wore none of the soundest. Joseph, who calls the selling of the “ twin steers, 
greater mischief sometimes accrues from a was something of,a “sleep-walker,” arose lovo to talk with him, and listen to 1 
broken engagement with a child than with that night and had opened the door, when advice, for lie is one of those to wli 
an adult,—as will bo obvious from the fol- his mother awoke and asked him where ho and adversity has brought wisdom a 
lowing, and numerous other facts. was going. He said ho “was going to kill dcrncss. Whenever he sees two broi 
From tho time the boys called the calves Star and Bute, so Ben Field should not the ages that his boys were whe 
their own, they commenced with them a have them.” She awoke him and sent him “ hauled ” oven-wood for their moth- 
course of training that made them tracta- again to bed. Star and Beauty, he will pass hist 
ble and obedient to their littlo masters: yet Another and another tempting offer was hand across his eyes and sigh,—“ Su< 
an angry word was never spoken to them, made, till Undo Jacob yielded, reluctantly, my poor boys, Edward and Joseph.” 
nor did they ever feel the lash of the whip, 
or the cruol stab of the goad-stick, that ex¬ 
it is true, but he did yield, in spite of tho 
entreaties and tears of the boys, and the 
ecrable instrument of torture, too often put remonstrances of Aunt Mary, who was ox- 
into the hands of passionate boys, and hard- cited to an unprecedented degree, for she _z: 
ened men. Edward, who was mild and was heard to say very emphatically, “Jacob 
thoughtful, would never suffer the impotu- Morgan, if you sell the steers, you will nov- r[ 
ous and passionate Joseph to wreak the of- ©r prosper, and you will repent the act till for 
fects of his fiery temper on their pets.— the day of your death.” She knew the 
When autumn arrived tho farm work allow- boys better than he did. But Uncle Jacob 
ed them no spare timo, excepting evenings, vvas never guilty of such a weakness as 
which wore generally devoted to reading, yielding to his wife or children when money 
and Edward was particularly happy when, was tho object to be gained by opposition. 
his evenings could bo so spent. He had not Y et learned the wisdom of the 
maxim, “Begin nothing of which thou hast 
The question arose how thoy could pro- b » 
cure a yoke and sled for their miniature not well considered the end 
oxen. In a short timo tho snows would bo- notattempt to record the mutterings 
gin to fall, and 'they would have timo to <“ d «®»l»es of those injured boys. In vain 
work their team. After consulting Aunt dld th<3 ' r «*ther offer them Ins note for tho 
Mary, as was the custom on all perplexing 
occasions, they ventured to ask Uncle Ja- 
money he received. They indignantly re¬ 
fused any overtures, when he began to feel 
cob if he would make a suitable sled for secret misgivings as to the policy of his pro- 
them, if they would buy a yoke; this ho f ed “S’ From that time all interest m the 
agreed to do. Now 1 will tell you, my farm ceased, with Edward and Joseph; their 
young friends, how these boys earned one work was performed mechanically; a dead- 
, 1 L li- L- T, 1 lyhato was engrafted on personal dislike 
dollar and a halt, which doubtless appears J . & 1 , ■ „ 
’ , , a • , i towards bquire Field and his son; a host of 
to you a very small sum, but which to them . n . . 
J ,1 * unkind teehngs and passions were excited 
was of great importance. At that time the , ° . \. , . . 
. v * and fostered, in brooding over tho iniury 
braiding of straw tor bonnets, constituted ’ .% , , ■* 
° - 1 inflicted on them by their father, who, to do 
the almost universal employment of women 
, .... . , w T „ him justice, believed the money was of more 
and children. Aunt Mary prepared the . J J 
„ ,, . , .. , . , importance to them than the possession of 
straw for them, and they plaited sixty yards 1 r 
. , , . ’ . „ , ., v r. the steers, ihe next summer when they 
cfiftnnrwl firKTAVR hv tV\0. IlOrht OI J 
straw for them, and they plaited sixty yards 
with their stiffened fingors, by the light ot 
tho fire in the long evenings. I cannot say 
that the braid did not increase a yard or 
two, occasionally, in their absence, if their 
mother was not too busy about other mat¬ 
ters. The braid was disposed of to a neigh- 
rejoiced that Beauty was struck by light¬ 
ning, that rejoicing was only the legitimate 
consequence of their first trial. Tho fath¬ 
er’s mistako in tho premises, was in part 
owing to his having forgotten that he was 
„ r ... ,, , once a child, and consequently being unable 
boring “ storo-keepor, with tho amount ’ 1 J . , 6 . 
men me grave s me gate oi nuwers, . , . . , ■> • to sympathize with, and appreciate the dis- 
TVliew they entered heavenly bowers; Of wh.ch they pa.d a man for makmg a ^ of 
. HOW did their hearts leap at the first fall In ( an0 ‘ her Aunt ““7 ™ kld ® » 
— . . u , quiet nook m the corner ot tho farm, and 
‘ 0,1 the death of A ™‘ R ; r ‘ Futxkk ’ wh0 dicd in Carl - of snow ’ n t T hat j at0 autu ™ n , and how proud henceforth that six feot of earth constituted 
a, May 4 th, 1852 , aged 16 years. was Uncle Jacob to see his twin boys, as „ . 
, ,, . . , .. , jy the only attraction, to the two boys, of that 
- --: he called them, yoking their docile calves ot / ’ , . 
A< i j/ a i i v; . A. x. i j, TOi, „ extensive farm. Uncle Jacob mourned sin- 
Jlliral Ikrftj! 3500 k. ””™ d B^aut) LcaLLLcustomed to Corel, for his better half,'■-which he man- 
____ , . , ", , , i , ■■ nested, by filling her place at his fire-side 
their now yoke, tho boys would tako excur- J , . u . , 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. gions j nt() the W00< J S , and load their sled aS S °° n 0C6nC y Permitted . 
UNCLE JACOB’S MISTAKE. with dry and broken limbs of trees for As timo passed, Edward became more ful- 
Aunt Mary to heat her oven. Good, kind l 7 determined to leave the farm ; and his 
BY a farmer’s wife. raot h e r that she was, her boys thought noth- fathei ' finalI J consented, and procured him 
T , • yr 17 i i r i ing thoy could do, would ever repay her for the situat i° n °f cIerk to a store-keeper in a 
In a country town in New-Englaud, lived “8 . , ’ _,_LA..,.. ... neighboring town, when he had arrived at 
In another year Aunt Mary was laid in a 
quiet nook in the corner of tho farm, and 
henceforth that six feot of earth constituted 
Jiiiml $btrl] 9kok. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
calls the selling of the “twin steers.” Boys mentally; consequently her acquirements 
lovo to talk with him, and listen to his kind must not equal theirs, and her knowledge 
advice, for he is one of those to whom age must bo suited to her more limited capacity, 
and adversity has brought wisdom and ten- It is said that her acquisitions in learning, 
dcrncss. Whenever he sees two brothers of her progress in the sciences, and her ad- 
tho ages that his boys were when thoy vancement in literature, do not, and never 
“ hauled ” oven-wood for their mother, with have kept pace with man’s. What wonder ? 
Star and Beauty, he will pass his bronzed Can you expect her to know all about 
hand across his eyes and sigh,—“ Such were books and sciences which she has never read 
my poor boys, Edward and Joseph.” or heard of. But throw open your colleges; 
i. - - . m i -. .— . ■ break down the bars that close your univer- 
ut' Au.rt sitios against her; give her tho samo privi- 
jLllUi r J 4J f jp Mini! lit. leges, and I venture to say, man will quickly 
- - --- --- find her mind is equal to his own. 
LOVE. * Even under all those disadvantages, tho 
sex has produced sufficient to convince any 
The following fragment from the pen of Frederick Halm, * . ■. 
for beauty and delicacy, is almost inimitable : reasonable peiSOn, that S110 pOSSGSSGS a 
Tell me, my heart, what love is ! hcai ’ fc that Can beautify with angel thoughts 
it givetii but to rob— tliG barren spots ot literature 5 and a mind 
Two souls and one idea, that can grasp with giant power, the most 
rw<> hearts and but one throb. intricate subjects. In the doparment of fic 
And toll me how love cometh ! tion, she has shown most conclusively “ what 
And whither, pray, it fleeth ? possibilities there are, —and it she does not 
’Twas not—’twas fancy mere. with man shine like the sun, she may beam 
And when is love the purest ? like the man, that blights no buds, and 
When its own seif it shuns. withers no flowers with her burning breath. 
And when is love the deepest? MlSS SEDGWICK, BURNEY, EDGEWORTH and 
When love the stillest runs. , 
Austin, are examples. And the writings ot 
And when is love the richest ? T t i . i i ■ i 
T , . .. . .. . Hannah More, are known, read, and admired 
It hoardeth when it gives. y ’ ’ 
And tell me how love speaketh ! all over the civilized world, 
it speaketh not—it lives ! Tho sweet spirit of song has folded her 
downy pinions on America’s soil. Mrs. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. J 1 
MY EARLY HOME, AND ITS FLOWERS. ^gourney has [written her name h,gh upon 
_ tho records of fame. The memory of 
Dear Rural :—Were you blest with a Hannah F. Gould will be cherished, when 
mother who was fond of flowers ? I was, years with silent, solemn footsteps shall have 
and she allowed me to devote a part of my passed over her grave. Lucretia M. and 
timo to the cultivation of them, and the Margaret M. Davidson, will live and be 
hours spent in that way I reckon as among remembered, while poetry has a lover, or 
tho happiest of my life. Often in imagina- science a votary. Mrs. Osgood, Hale, El- 
tion, I can sec plainly each nook, with tho let, Elizabeth Townsend, and many others, 
particular flower which occupied it. Tho too numerous to mention, of our own coun¬ 
yard was of middling size, surrounded with try, occur to my mind, and hundreds of 
lilac, rose, and mulberry,—near the centre others, from every nation, in every land, 
was an old stump, (we do not have such some of whom, have ontcrod the portal of 
stumps, now-a-days,) covered with boxes of the tomb, but like the setting sun, have 
plants; between that and tho road was a flung a golden radiance on the darkening 
large eglantine, which hid it from the pass- world, whilo others still linger with us, and 
br-by. I loved to stand there and spe tho lend their melody to cheer life’s lonely hours, 
flowers in blossom—on either side of the Yet these are women, and are all samples of 
walk leading to tho door was a pteony, and what every woman might be, to a greater or 
in front of tho house, covering the window, less extent, had her mind an opportunity 
thero were creepers—(they are out of fash- of unfolding, 
ion now-a-days, but they looked very boauti- Yates, N. Y., 1852 ,_ 
ful to me then.) . » VICTORIA AND HER MOTHER. 
• Then, there was the little flower bed in - 
one corner of tho garden, which we used to One of the pleasantest churchyards I 
cultivate with great care and each morning know of, is in the Isle of Wight; and many 
v/uxxx. o ° nn-nlnral! ooiinlnvmd nmmior ita ofravoo 
The following fragment from the pen of Frederick Halm, 
for beauty and delicacy, is almost inimitable : 
Tell me, my heart, what love is! 
It giveth but to rob— 
Two souls and one idea, 
Two hearts and but one throb. 
And tell me liow love cometh! 
It comes—and ah, 'tis here. 
And whither, pray, it fleeth ? 
’Twas not—’twas fancy mere. 
And when is love the purest ? 
When its own self it shuns. 
And when is love the deepest ? 
When love the stillest runs. 
And when is love the richest ? 
It hoardeth when it gives. 
And tell me how love speaketh! 
It speaketh not—it lives ! 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MY EARLY HOME, AND ITS FLOWERS. 
BY A FARMERS WIFE. 
Uncle Jacob, as he was called, who was as uinuc 
good a specimen of tho honst, rigid, and ^ eu loas 
unyielding farmers of his day, as could be dac °k did 
found in a week’s journey. He was a hard- was an 1 
working, industrious map, who thought all econom y 
knowledge, particularly of farming, do- a 
tho innocent stratagems she employed for neighboring town, when he had arrived at 
their reasonable indulgence; besides, Uncle the age of sixteen years. Joseph grew more 
Jacob did not alwavs consider that dry wood and m oro restless after Edward loft home, 
was an indispensable article in household but bis father could not consent tohis.go- 
* in S ’ be could not spare him,—besides, he 
scended to him from his father, with the holiday, and I was invited to take my first, 
broad acres, that ho would have thought it long-promised ride. I was accordingly pro- 
As a special favor, New-Years was to bo a was to ° y° un g to leav0 home ’ 
•liday, and I was invited to take my first, Uncle Jacob awoko one morning to find 
ng-promised ride. I was accordingly pro- Joseph’s room empty, its inmate gono, none 
led with mittens and a home-spun blanket, knew whither. The father, in his stornness, 
... ’ _ , . , , f vided with mittens and a home-spun blanket, knew whither. 1 he hither, in his stornness, their spirits dwell where flowers immortal 
^good'oW way,” anc/ho would 'have thought and was seated on tho slod by Joseph, who refused to seek him-saying "in_, few Moom . and while we scatter blossoms upon 
it equally sinful to have swerved from the P erformed tho ‘*“ e * b ' e > walk '"« ‘ h , e 8 “"to homo. But thoir graves, may our hearts bo drawn from 
\ Y. , , , , , . side of the sled, while the more bashful Ed- that time nevei came. About five years af- things created, to adore the Croator of all 
v , . ,, ward led and drove Star and Beauty. Nov- tei ho left, some ot the neighbors saw a man the blessings, both spiritual and temporal, 
agemont ot h,s boys. Yet oeoastonally, a J dressed in sailors' clothes, standing in the which we enjoy. Elm«.v. 
gleam of tend« would shme m the eyes « J* « ; ^ Ugh* of the moon, near tho spot whore Aunt wL.' mw, 1 st* 
ot Uncle Jacob, though any express,on of ,t , m » MarJ wa3 buried> whom th thought might --—- 
would havo made hun ashamed to hold.up J™ _L r>„ „ , For the New-Yorker. 
his head among his neighbors. school-mates as we passed the houses on the be Joseph. Be that as ,t may, he was nev- W0MM S ebdCATIOS. 
“turnpike,” between Uncle Jacobs and the er seen there afterward; and whether he is -_ 
Edward and Joseph, the only ch.ldren oi storo „ yet alive, or sleeping in “ocean’s bod,” is by el,sa woonwoBrn. 
Undo Jacob, were fine, intelligent lads, with That was a memorablo day t0 those boya . alike unknown. - 
so little difference in size, that they were wo j n t ^ 0 innocence of our Edward gainod tho confidence of his em- “ Wiiat does France need to establish her 
ion now-a-days, but they looked very beauti- Yates, N. Y., 1852,_ 
ful to me then.) . « VICTORIA AND HER MOTHER. 
• Then, there was the little flower bed in - 
one corner of tho garden, which we used to One of the pleasantest churchyards I 
cultivate with great care and each morning know of, is in the Isle of Wight; and many 
. n i u j- years ago I was sauntering among its graves, 
we visited our little flower garden, before ^ f saw a lady in deep mourning, with 
commencing the labors ot the day, to soo if a little girl, sitting on a tombstone. Tho 
any new bud had opened since our last call former was reading a book to the latter, who 
at evening. Thero was a large rock in the was looking with tearful eyes into her moth- 
garden-on the centre of it was chamomile, *«»• When they turned away from tho 
° \ ,, , x -x spot, I saw that they had been looking on 
and about the edge we used to sit on a sum- (. om d Q f “Dairyman’s Daughter,” 
mer's evening and talk of present enjoy- w hose simple epitaph was engraved on the 
ments anil future hopes. The corners of headstone. That lady was the Duchess of 
fence which were devoted to the three Kent, and tho little child was the Princess 
younger members of tho family, are not for- “ queen »n whoso dominions 
J ° , x Al , , the sun never sets. Perhaps the book the 
gotton though two of those children have i ad y wa s reading, was the delightful ahid 
passed away. Their bodies, with that of our affecting narrative of Leigh Richmond, 
dear father, lie mouldering in the grave, but Striking was tho contrast in the condition 
their spirits dwell where flowers immortal °f the sleeper and her who watched by her 
bloom; and while we scatter blossoms upon 
way in which he was brought up, in the man¬ 
agement of his boys. Yet, occasionally, a 
gleam of tenderness would shine in tho eyes 
of Uncle Jacob, though any expression of it 
his head among his neighbors. 
Edward and Joseph, the only children of 
Uncle Jacob, were fine, intelligent lads, with 
so little difference in size, that they were 
generally taken for twins, though that was 
not tho fact. Thoir father took no lit¬ 
tle pride in tho achievements of these boys 
in the hoeing and haying fields; and, as 
some reward for their faithfulness, and an 
incentive to renewed efforts, when his favor¬ 
ite cow produced male twin calves, he gave 
them to the boys to train up as their own. 
Had they received a deed of gift, of half 
the township, it would not havo been an af¬ 
fair of any more importance in their minds. 
Being something of a pet with Aunt Ma¬ 
ry, I often spent weeks together with her, 
and felt almost as much interested in the 
affair, as did tho boys themselves; and nev¬ 
er shall I forget the whispered conference 
bloom; and while we scatter blossoms upon grave-tho one a peasant’s daughter in her 
’ _ , , ‘ dreamless slumbers, the ether a child who, 
their graves, may our hearts be drawn trom ere ma ny years had passed over her head, 
things created, to adore the Croator of all was to take her place among the rulers of 
the blessings, both spiritual and temporal, the nations ! The humbler of the twO had 
which we enjoy. Elmina. won her palm, and was wearing her crown, 
Waukesha, wis., May, 1852 whilst the “ daughter of a royal line was 
_ . . _ fated to endure the perilous splendor oi 
For the New-Yorker. dominion, and become tho mother of more 
WOMAN 1 S EDUCATION kings ere she should lie down in the vaults 
_ ' of Windsor. —Local Loiterings, 
For the New-Yorker. 
WOMAN’S EDUCATION. 
BY ELIZA WOODWORTH. 
- Simplicity in Dress.—T hose, who think 
Wiiat does France need to establish her that in order to dress well, it is necessary to 
ployere, and gave premise use*,, and xe- greatness ?” asked ~. “ Mothers ” 
neighbor’s goods, though we had all learned spectable manhood. But, alas ! accustomed replied Madam Lamp an. L hero is a world inine beauty as simplicity. Wo have seei 
the commandment forbidding that feeling. to n0 confidences with his elders, and natu- of wisdom in this answer. As I have be- many a rema rkably fine person robbed of iti 
tho commandment forbidding that feeling. to n0 confidences with his elders, and natu- 
From the day “ Squire Field ” saw us pass, ra dy shy, ho asked counsel of none. At 
he determined to buy those steers for his ago of nineteen he contracted an im- 
only son, Benjamin—who, for boyish reasons prudent marriage, (what marriage at that 
of their own, was the special detestation of a S e could be otherwise ?) with an orphan 
Edward and Joseph. Squire Field was one sixteen. With no habits ot economy, 
of those characters ofton found in country a sma d salary, and fast increasing family, 
placos, years ago, who united the occupa- the wife s property was soon spent, and they 
tions of lawyer and farmer, and was conse- we re reduced, to poverty. Lrue, his father 
quently considered a great man. helped him occasionally, but his own affairs 
Spring camo, and on the occasion of one were becoming so embarrassed, ho could 
of Squire Field’s customary evening visits, 
he cautiously broached tho subject of pur¬ 
chasing the twin steers. As soon as he had 
we held m the corner that night in regard , rT , T , A r i 
, „ , , g-one and Uncle Jacob was out of hearing— 
to tho “breaking ot the steers, |ind the „ . . , .. ,, T , ... 
,, , . , “Well, exclaimed the excitable Joseph, “i 
s scarcely help himself; Edward was there- 
r _ fore left to struggle on as best he might. At 
d the early age of forty years ho was borne to 
_ to his grave, having survived his wife and 
if five children. After his death there was 
. , . , vv eu, exciamieu uue oadiuiluo ouseuu, ”ii -- - — - 
rides I was to havo on the sled to be drawn father dQog geU gtar and But0j j know what found in his pocket-book, the following lines 
by them, the next winter Then the story- j wiU do I’ll run away, I won’t stay here!” in P enci, i havin g b «on written but a few 
books were to bo consulted to find names davs • 
“ I won’t say that,” rejoined the quiet * 
for the calves; and this duty was delegated 
— Edward “ In tho first olace I don’t holinve Fain would i rest my weary head, l ,l “ w v .... 7”.”“ like men, is denominated Dy Jtum who 
to mo, as the boys had not much time. But * ^ ’ , , ... . Beneath the verdant sod ; government, and hold the septro of political wore it_“ The bond of perfectness.” 
our story-books gave us no names at all ap- father wdl sel1 our property, but it I tho t My spirit longs to join the throng, power • I leave all such, to tho consolation ‘___ 
prepriate. excepting Valentine and Orson ; t^Fieldlonjd^ta™ ItL. o.i, of being sneered a. by those whom they Dn. Mato, to hi, recent pnblished “Phi- 
these wo did not like, — so wo decided on the t ’ That binds us down to griet atiri toil. attempt to displace, and tho comfort of hav- losophy of Life, says thero is but one dis- 
namos of Star and Beauty, in which ap- seem to mo con cm t at. j n the decline of life, misfortunes clus- ing won tho contempt of every true woman, ease to which female childi en are liablo, an 
pellations the white steers were henceforth “ Well, boys, don’t worry about it now, tered around Unc i e Jacob . His farm was Y ct, I believe it will bo conceded that we do ag^dtep^ue sports of increasing exer- 
to rejoice. but go to bod, said Aunt Mary. “Idont sold to pay the debts of a brother-in-law for not have our rights in the matter of educa- tion, their sisters are to be artificially train- 
I mention tho circumstances thus minute- tbink b © will sell them; if I can got a w h 0 m he became surety to a large amount, tion, while colleges and universities are ed to feminineness of mind and manners, 
ly to show what importance is attached in chance, I will talk with him about it, tho Tho old man’s race is nearly run; fourscore closed against us. and noalth endangered, 
tho minds of children, to matters that ap- ain t a P t to think that women folks know w j n ters have shed their snows on his brow, “ One tongue is enough for a woman,” Serpents hiss, and scorpions sting, when 
pear trifling to mature persons. A bargain, much about such matters.” and d i mmed his eye, which will yet kindle said the blind poet, great in his littleness, they are crushed, but the grape pours forth 
condition, or promise, made with, or to a Late was it that night when those boys as he earnestly talks to fathers about the and littlo in his greatness. Here it is: many the generous wine, and tho flowers send up 
child should bo considered as sacred as a slept, and when they did so their slumbers “great mistako of his life,” as he always men suppose woman to be their inferiors, their perfume.— Grace Greenwood. 
... ati l mine beauty as simplicity, wo nave seen 
of wisdom in this answer. As I have be- man y a remarkably tine person robbed of its 
fore said, it is the mother that makes the true effect by being over dressed. Nothing 
man, and moulds the nation. If her influ- is more unbecoming than overloading bcau- 
enco then, is so extensive, how important ty- 1 be stern simplicity of the classic tastes 
, . . , ’ , , ...... . , ,T is seen in the old statues and m the pictures 
that it should be rightly inected. How a inted by men of superior artistic genius, 
necessary that her mind should be cultivated | n Athens, the ladies wero not gaudily, but 
—her heart educated—and her soul become simply arrayed, and we doubt whether any 
the receptacle of all that is pure, elevating, ladies havo ever excited moro admiration. 
...wi yytyty/-.L iInrr So also the nobio old Roman matrons, whose 
. . , , , superb forms wero gazed on delightedly by 
lo every impartial observer, tho present men worthy of them, were always very plain- 
system of education must appear wholly } y dr cssod. Fashion often presents tho hues 
inadequate to tho wants of the female mind, of the butterfly, but fashion is not a classic 
While I acknowledge this to be the “ age of goddess.— Geo. D. Prentice. 
improvement;” and while the most aston- _ . . ’T A L 
. r , . , . If it was a happy fancy of the Grecians 
ishing progress has been made by man, m tka t the goddess of beauty charmed by 
the arts and sciences, still, I ask, what steps mea ns of her girdle of grace, it is a practi- 
have been taken to educate woman, as sho cal truth, that the Christian charms by the 
should bo ? I am not defending tho bab- holp of his girdle of charity—that girdle 
bling blockheads, Who contend that it is her wb ich, imparting to the soul it encompass- 
, & . . A , ., - . es, the power to please God and all God- 
place to raZe-to ascend tho throne of civil ^ ig de F ominated by Him who 
government, and hold tho septro of political woro fa —« The bond of perfectness.” 
power ; I leave all such, to tho consolation--—---- 
of being sneered at by those whom thoy Dr. Mayo, in his recent published “Phi- 
attempt to displace, and tho comfort of hav- losophy of Life,” says there is but one dis¬ 
ing won the contempt of every true woman. iJeToyTareonco'ur- 
j.et-51 beliovo it will bo conceded that we do p UrsU e sports of increasing exor- 
but go to bod, said Aunt Mary. “ I don t go i d p ay t he debts of a brother-in-law for not have our rights in the matter of educa- t j ori5 their sisters are to bo artificially train- 
think ho will sell them; if I can got a w honi he became surety to a large amount, tion, while colleges and universities are ed to feminineness of mind and manners, 
chance, I will talk with him about it, tho Tho old man’s race is nearlv run: fourscore closed against us. and noalth endangered. 
