276 
v 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
(Blmnitioiml Df{mr{mmt 
BY L. WETHERELL. 
COMMON SENSE. 
This is a very common phrase, frequently 
quoted, though not generally well under¬ 
stood. It is a common remark—that such 
a person has good common sense, or that 
another is destitute of it. What is com¬ 
mon sense ? It is described as a faculty ox- 
part of a faculty, possessing a quick and 
universal perception of right and wrong, 
truth and error, of propriety and impropri¬ 
ety in human affairs,—by Cicero, Berkley, 
Shaftsbury, Fenelon, Locke, Iiume, Ilobbs 
and Priestly. 
Dr. Benj. Rush defines it as follows:—“I 
consider it,” says he, “ as the perception of 
things as they appear to the greatest part 
of mankind. It has no relation to their be¬ 
ing true or false, right or wrong, proper or 
improper. For the sake of perspicuity, I 
shall define it to be opinions and feelings in 
unison with the opinions and feelings of 
the bulk of mankind.” 
It is evident from this definition, which 
we think a good one, that common sense 
j must necessarily differ in different ages and 
{ localities. What was good common sense 
I at one time will not be so at another. It 
is not considered good common senso to 
talk of republicanism in England or Tur¬ 
key. Neither is it considered good common 
I sense, now. to talk favorably of monarchies 
or monarchial forms of government in our 
I American Congress. The notions of com- 
j mon senso as entertained by a citizen of 
I Geoi'gia, concerning labor, differ essentially 
j from such as are received by a citizen of N. 
York. “In Turkey, it is contrary to the 
I common sense of delicacy which prevails in 
that country, for a gentleman to danbe with 
! a lady.” No such common sense prevails in 
j any of the western counti'ies of Europe or 
l in the States of America. 
Nearly all the reforms and changes that 
have been effected in society have gone 
counter to the common sense of the age and 
the place. Let us not forget, then, that 
common sense is made up of the “opinions 
and feelings in unison with the opinions and 
feelings” of the majority of those in any 
age or place that give direction to public 
sentiment. What goes contrary to this 
will not generally bo received as good com¬ 
mon sense 
THE BOSTON ENGLISH HIGH SCHOOL. 
We clip tho following extract from a late 
number of the Boston Courici'. It depicts 
an evil which pi'evails in nearly all schools. 
We have frequently called attention to it 
in the columns of the Rural. The evil of 
this state of things must bo shared about 
equally, among parents, teachers, and school 
officers. Parents and teachers can correct 
this vital error in mutual discipline and 
culturo if they will. Let them do so forth¬ 
with : 
The annual examination of candidates for 
admission to the English High School, was 
held last week, (the first week of Aug.,) and 
112 applicants pi-esentcd themselves for ad¬ 
mission, most of them being medal scholars 
from the Grammar Schools. According to 
the rules established for the examination of 
candidates for admission to the High School, 
no one can be admitted who cannot pass a 
satisfactory examination in spelling, reading, 
writing, English grammar, arithmetic, mod¬ 
ern geography, and the History of the Uni¬ 
ted States. Out of tho 112 who were ex¬ 
amined, but 57 were pronounced to be qual¬ 
ified for admission. 
The Traveller states that— 
The examination revealed unaccountable 
ignorance on tho part of many of those 
considered the best scholars in the Gram¬ 
mar Schools. One boy compared the ad¬ 
jective bad, bad. badder, baddest. Another, 
when asked what Mason & Dixon’s lino was, 
replied that it was a line of expresses.— 
Another could not find °f Vs- One boy 
answered seven questions correctly out of 
the forty propounded. From one school 
twenty-three boys, comprising nearly all the 
first class, presented themselves for admiss¬ 
ion, and only two were thought sufficiently 
advanced to bo allowed to enter. 
We have had occasion to notice from year 
to year, of late, that a much less proportion 
of modal scholars in the Grammar Schools 
were found qualified for admission into the 
High and Latin Schools, than in former 
times. The reason is obvious. It is the 
neglect of tho elementary studies, the rudi¬ 
ments of true English education, necessari¬ 
ly consequent on the introduction of multi¬ 
tudinous fanciful studies—many of which 
are well enough in themselves, no doubt, 
but entix-ely out of place in our preliminary 
schools — which committee men, to serve 
their own purposes of real profit or fanciful 
reputation, and masters, to secure the favor 
of their committees, have thrust forward to 
perplex the brains and waste tho time of 
their unfortunate pupils. A little smatter¬ 
ing of knowledge in these extra branches, 
is, at best, all that can be obtained by tho 
scholar, and this, even, is forgotten before a 
twelvemonth is past—while, to obtain for 
the scholar the factitious credit of informa¬ 
tion as to theso things, the true essentials 
of education are neglected. We have heard 
many gentlemen of sound sense and expe¬ 
rience warmly commend the course of the 
chief masters of the High and Latin Schools, 
in requiring, as the thief requisites for ad¬ 
mission, a thorough groundwork in the ele¬ 
mentary branches. We concur heartily in 
this opinion, and hope that good old com¬ 
mon sense will get back again into the busi¬ 
ness of education. If we expect ripe schol- 
arship and sound mental culture in the 
rising generation, we must avoid encumber¬ 
ing the early process of instruction with the 
farrago of isms and asms and dies and otics 
which the mischievous quackery of modern 
chaarlatans and pretenders to science is 
now attempting to thrust into our schools. 
They are the very foppery of learning. 
SCHOOLS AT HOME. 
Few persons realize how much may be 
done in a thousand pleasant ways at home. 
“ Let a parent make a companion of his 
child, converse with him familiarly, put to 
him questions, answer inquiries, communi¬ 
cate facts, tho result of his reading or ob¬ 
servation, to awaken his curiosity, explain 
difficulties, tho meaning of things, and the 
reason of things—and all this in an easy, 
playful manner, without seeming to impose 
a task, and he himself will be astonished at 
the progress which will be made. The ex¬ 
periment is so simple that none need hesi- 
itate about its performance. The first un¬ 
important requisite is, that there be mutual 
confidence between parent and child ; then 
in every season, and at evei-y place, there 
may be such lessons and recitations as shall 
benefit both; imparting new facts and prin¬ 
ciples to one, and elucidating new views and 
giving them new force to the other. If at 
tho barn, the boy may bo required to give 
the principle of raising water by the pump, 
or some other question in hydraulics; if 
teaming or plowing, why the work is per¬ 
formed easier when the team is near the 
load than when farther removed ; if in the 
morning, when the grass is sparkling with 
pearly drops, how dew is deposited : or, if 
in the silent and impressive evening hours, 
why he is chilled in passing the valley and 
finds again the genial warmth on ascending 
the hill ? When around the fireside, daugh¬ 
ters may state the principle upon which the 
smoke ascends the chimney, and why the 
air is warmest at the top of the room. At 
another time, why tho “pitcher sweats” in 
the hot noon, or tho “ dough rises ” in the 
pan. 
By thus observing events as they pass, 
v’e are always at school ; both old and 
young, teachers and pupils in turn. A new 
enthusiasm is daily kindled in the breast of 
each other, while new desires lor improve¬ 
ment are awakened, and new sources for it 
are developed at each recitation. 
Often call tho attention of children to the 
scenes and objects about you. Winter has 
its impressive lessons in the dreary aspect 
which nature assumes, and naturally leads 
into an inquiry of the motions of tho plan¬ 
ets and the causo of cold. Nearly all the 
animals save those dependent on the care 
of man have disappeared. A few tiny birds 
only, cheer the desolate scene. From 
whence did they come, and why linger amid 
these howling winds and driving snows ?— 
Have they escaped from the appalling cold 
of Arctic regions, and find this their tem¬ 
perate zone ? These aro inquiries of deep 
interest to the young, and profitable sub¬ 
jects of research. Then look at the forms of 
snow, examine the flakes with a magnifying 
glass, and find how past all human art are. 
the crystals of which they are formed, and 
how the wisdom of God is manifest in all 
his works. 
The season of Spring is a school crowded 
with questions demanding answers. The 
swelling bud and springing leaf;—what se¬ 
cret power impels them ? How gather 
nourishment; how exhalo, absorb, resprie, 
digest and assume beautiful colors and 
forms ? The friendly birds return. Where 
have they been ? what oceans crossed and 
continents visited ? how travel, by night or 
day, or both, and with only their own kind, 
or associated with others, and why did they 
leave us while their accustomed food was 
still abundant ? 
Summer has its lessons, too; teeming with 
insect life, “each after its kind,” a new 
world of wonder to the intelligent inquirer. 
It has 
-“tongues in trees, 
Sermons in stones, music in running brooks, 
And good in everything.” 
Then Autumn comes, in sober russet clad, 
and perfects the work begun, teaching us to 
perfect ourselves as season after season 
rolls along. Thus, although the winter may 
be a season of peculiar privileges, all times 
afford opportunities for thought and im¬ 
provement. 
In this universal school we are to lay hold 
of all possible helps and take hints from all 
nature both animate and inanimate, around 
us. Dr. Beecher says “that in no other way 
can so much varied, so useful information bo 
imparted, and under circumstances so favor¬ 
able for educating the child’s mind, as thro’ 
a judicious, well conducted newspaper.— 
Once, a liberal education could only be ob¬ 
tained by foi'eign travel. The sons only of 
the wealthy could indulge in this costly 
benefit. But now the poor man’s son can 
learn as much at home as a hundred years 
ago a gentleman could learn by journeying 
tho world over. It is the poor man’s privi¬ 
lege to have the world come to see him. — 
The newspaper is a great Collector, a great 
Traveler, a great Lecturer. It is the com¬ 
mon people’s Encyclopaedia—the Lyceum, 
the College.” It greatly aids conversation¬ 
al powers, gives ease to manner, and sup¬ 
plies a constant stream of useful, general in¬ 
telligence.— JY. E. Farmer. 
Flattery is compounded of the most sor¬ 
did, hateful qualities incident to mankind, 
viz:—lying, servility and treachery. 
One hour gained in early rising is worth 
one month in a year. 
Cljoire 
THE ANGEL’S BRIDGE. 
Whene’er a rainbow slept along the sky. 
The thoughtful child expected Angel bands 
Would glide upon its gorgeous path of light, 
With half furled wings and meekly folded hands: 
For he had dreamed the rainbow was a bridge, 
On which came bright ones from the far-off shore,— 
A strange and pleasant dream — but he believed — 
And his young heart with love’s sweet faith ran o’er. 
How full of dreamy hopefulness his face, 
How many tender welcomes filled his eyes, 
When for celestial visitants he watched. 
In mute and holy converse with the skies 1 
The saintly child grew very wan and weak; 
And as he lay- upon the bed of pain, 
One day of storm, he only gently said, 
“ When will the ‘Angel's Bridge’ reach down again ?” 
In musing trance while gazing on the clouds, 
A flood of sun-light lit the humid air, 
And springing forth, as if from God’s own arms, 
A lustrous rainbow shone divinely there. 
A tender smile played o'er the child’s pale lips— 
“Down the bright arch the white-robed Angels come, 
O, see their shining pinions!—their sweet eyes!”— 
He said — and. mid their soft embraces floated home. 
[TV. Y. Evening Post.] H. N. P. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
DETACHED THOUGHTS. 
Success, in the common, worldly senso of 
the word, is often more disastrous than 
defeat. 
A distinguished contemporary says, “Na¬ 
ture never rhymes her children; never 
makes two men alike: ” true, out of her 
abundance she generously proposes to indi¬ 
vidualize us,—to bestow on each of us a 
stamp of character so distinctive that one 
cannot bo mistaken for another,—but, as if 
fearful of our own echo, like the last line of 
a couplet, we, poor fools, labor to jingle with 
some chosen prototype, and thus, by a ser¬ 
vile imitation, virtually merge our existence 
in that of one more courageously endowed. 
Superficial study, is like superficial farm¬ 
ing; thoughts which lie on tho surface of a 
book may be gained by merely skimming 
it: but in Literature as in Agriculture there 
is need of deep plowing—subsoiling—if wo 
would bring up tho richest treasures. 
Tho most comfortable way of getting on 
in this jealous world, is, whenever one dis¬ 
covers a particular amiability in any person 
to set about admiring it immediately, with¬ 
out waiting to inquire whether that person 
recognizes acorresponding amiability in him. 
The industry which some display in ana¬ 
lyzing and pointing out defects in the char- 
acters of their acquaintances, might, were 
tho motive fully understood, seem to de¬ 
serve commendation rather than reprehen¬ 
sion. Are we not exhorted to charity? and 
how can wo bo charitable unless we seo the 
faults of our neighbors? perfection leaves no 
room for the exercise of that heavenly vir¬ 
tue. Let us not then wince and call our 
friends cruel or merciless when they draw 
out our follies to light; it is a labor of lovo ; 
perhaps love of wrapping them up in the 
warm, sunny mantle of charity. 
Truth is integral; falsehood fractional; 
the life of tho truthful man is an example 
of unity, wholeness; that of the faithless 
presents a constant sceno of discord and 
distraction. 
The practico now so prevalent of making 
public pledges to do or refrain from doing 
certain acts, while it is in a high degree ben- 
ficial to those in general who are deficient 
in ability to keep resolutions made to them¬ 
selves, has, perhaps, tho disadvantage of 
tending to beget a feeling of self-distrust in 
the naturally self-reliant. 
Do wo need a term by which to express a 
degree of likelihood stronger than a possi¬ 
bility, yet weaker than a probabilty? If so, 
would perhapsity answer that necessity? 
The strong necessity of eating, as well as 
that of loving, overcomesa thousand antip¬ 
athies. 
Wealth makes men timid about commit¬ 
ting themselves to important social or po¬ 
litical revolutions. If you would have peo¬ 
ple conservative, invest them with property. 
What the present time especially demands 
of its teachers is not so much increased 
ability, as an intenser earnestness; not so 
much critical disputations upon tho Letter, 
which killeth, as genial, hopeful interpreta- 
tions of tho Spirit, which giveth life. 
South Livonia, N. Y., 1852. A. 
THE OUT DOOR PLANT. 
Wild and shy, somewhat boisterous too, 
was Nella. She never saw her sister Anna, 
for she was not born till after her death ; 
but she would fold over her chubby hands 
with reverenco, and stand with downcast 
eye when her parents would tell her of her 
angel sister who passed away as a snow¬ 
flake dissolves in water; and sometimes she 
would weep to think she was not so good ; 
but the yellow wings of a butterfly would 
dissipate tho regret for tho time, while tho 
insect scarcely flew faster than she through 
tho uneven meadow. Every morning she 
would run of her own accord to the bath, 
and plunge in with shout and laughter, 
ducking her head under the crystal like a 
bird, and screaming to seo the silver show¬ 
ers drip from her hair. If missing at break¬ 
fast, every one knew that she was searching 
in the lanes for flowers, or trundling her 
hoop on a place she called her avenue, and 
the tinkling of a bell brought her bounding 
to the window — her hair blown over her 
face, and through the tangles her bright 
eyes peeping and sparkling with mirth. 
Water was the hardy drink, and coarse 
bread with fruit her invariable diet. To 
look at the portrait of Anna, then at the 
plump form of Neil, one would not ho apt 
to take them for sisters. Anna’s forehead 
was like alabaster, Nell's brown as the berry: 
Anna’s fingers were transparent, Nell’s were 
round and chubby, with spots of mother 
earth sometimes encircling them in place of 
costlier rings. Anna’s waist was small and 
fragile, Nell all of a piece from shoulder 
to thigh—a very dumpling; Anna wore the 
thinnest fabrics, Noll substantial and neces¬ 
sary clothing. Anna’s feet daintily peeped 
forth enclosed in satin slippers; Nell's dim¬ 
pled pedestals clumped about in thick, large, 
but not inelegant shoes, such as would not 
admit tho dew in her morning rambles, or 
allow the water on a rainy day to run in at 
the ankle. 
Anna at four years of ago, could read in 
tho Bible; Nell at six had just mastered her 
alphabet, and shouted with triumph be¬ 
cause she could spell cat. Anna at six 
would move with a set step into her mother’s 
.drawing-room, and entertain company with 
her child-wisdom; Nell at eight would rath¬ 
er take her book and her little dog for a 
ramble and a reverie, than sit still for vis¬ 
itors five minutes. Anna at eight was a 
sylph; Nell at ten was a large substantial 
girl with the slightest shade of awkward¬ 
ness. Anna at ten could recite in four lan¬ 
guages; Nell at twelve could write a plain 
English letter, cat with a keen relish, walk 
four miles and back easily, manage a horse 
with skill, and do plain sewing. Anna at 
fourteen laid a sweet corpse in her coffin, 
while Nell lived to take the place of her 
mother, teach school, be a benefactor to the 
poor, tend the sick, bless the afflicted, and 
become the guardian angel of her neighbor¬ 
hood. Nell is now the wife of a judge, 
bringing up three embryo statesmen to walk 
in their father’s footsteps .—Olive Branch. 
NEWSPAPER CUSTOMS. 
French and German papers have abroad 
line running through them, about three- 
fourths of the way down the page, which 
separates the news and editorial matter 
from tho feuilleton, —comprising criticisms, 
tales, poetry, and other matter, which, in 
our papers, is usually placed on the first 
or last page, under the name of “Miscella¬ 
ny.” In one respect this is an advantage, 
since it allows the journal and the feuilleton 
to be cut apart and bound in separate vol¬ 
umes, neither of them very large or cum¬ 
brous. 
The news in European papers is more 
systematically, though often less conveni¬ 
ently, and always less strikingly arranged 
than with us. It is generally placed under 
the head of the localities or countries from 
which it comes. Here, if arranged at all, 
it is placed according to the subjects, but 
more commonly scattered in isolated para¬ 
graphs. 
English papers adopt a middle course.— 
Everything is systematic — the Foreign 
News; the Colonial News—Literary News 
—Accidents—Courts—each has its separate 
place. 
With us the leading editorial article is al¬ 
most invariably placed under the name of 
the paper, on the second or inside page.— 
In the German, French, and in some of the 
English journals, it is literally the “leader,” 
for it is tho first thing in the paper, on the 
first page, occupying the place assigned in 
the Evening Journal, to “Business Cards.” 
A French editor or contributor always signs 
his name in full to his article ; an English 
one never prints his at all, oven in a busi¬ 
ness notice, and rarely breaks through his 
incognito, even in communicating with cor- 
l’espondents. 
Editorials in France partako more of the 
nature of elaborate criticisms on the topics 
of which they treat, in Germany of philoso¬ 
phical disquisitions, in England of political 
or moral essays, suggested by passing ovents. 
Tho paragraphic treatment of subjects is a 
characteristic feature of American journals. 
In summing in a few linos the facts, causes 
and tendencies of an event; in quoting an 
opinion, controverting it. and disposing of 
it in a brief paragraph, they differ entirely 
from tho European manner. Each is in 
some degree an index of national character. 
—Albany Eve. Journal. 
THE SCHOLAR IN VACATION. 
In term time tho scholar may deal most¬ 
ly with those who lived before the Christian 
era; during vacation lie deals with nine¬ 
teenth century people. In term tirno he 
has one object, one pursuit, one standard of 
excellence. They who daily challenge his 
admiration, are "the excellent within one 
circle. The best Greek scholar, tho best 
mathematician, tho readiest and smoothest 
writer, is neareat tho goal towards which 
he runs. Vacation shows him how con¬ 
tracted this circle is, and how short its di¬ 
ameter. Other circles pay no respect to 
the centre ho covets. The best salesman 
in a trading village, tho most promising 
boat-steeror in a whaling port, tho youth 
who lays tho widest and smoothest swath 
of grass in a farming community, is most 
honored. Tho student’s self-conceit is re¬ 
duced, and his ideas of tho world enlarged. 
During term time he erects his perpendic¬ 
ulars and lays down his angles ; in vacation 
he goes home to correct them by the base 
line of common senso and every day life.— 
Wo cannot get over our youthful fondness 
for vacation. It is a necessary and most 
instructive part of our educational system 
—equally essential for teachers and the 
taught. — JY. Y. Times. 
lobbutli Hkibingi 
THE DEATH OF LITTLE CHILDREN. 
BY JOSHUA WILBER. 
As sweet ns the chiming of soft silver hells, 
So sweet be the strain that in melody tells 
Of souls without guile that from earth take their flight, 
Exchanging its shadows for glorious light. 
As, in the mild spring-time, when Zephyrus breathes 
Through boughs, decked ail gaily with blossoms and 
leaves, 
Tlie white petals fall, in their freshness and bloom; 
So innocence sinks to its rest in the tomb. 
Weep not for the dear Iambs,— safe folded above;— 
The Good Shepherd leads them,—they rest in his love;— 
He giveth them life, that can never decay, 
And joy as unfailing as infinite day. 
[ IVesl. Literary Messenger. 
THE CHILD IS DEAD. 
It is bard to believe it,—that we shall no 
more hear the glad voice, nor meet the mer¬ 
ry laugh, that burst so often from its glad 
heart. 
Child as it was, it was a pleasant child ; 
and to tho partial parent there are traits of \ 
loveliness that no other eye may see. It 
was a wise ordering of Providence that we 
should lovo our own children as no one else 
loves them, and as we lovo the children of 
none beside. And ours was a lovely child. 
But tho child is dead ! You may put 
away its playthings. Put them where they 
will be safe. 1 would not like to have them 
broken or lost; and you need not lend them 
to other children when they come to see us. 
It. would pain mo to seo them in their hands, 
much as 1 lovo to see children happy with 
their toys. 
Its clothes you may lav aside; I shall of¬ 
ten look them over, and each of the colors 
that he wore will remind me of him as he 
looked when ho was here. I shall weep of¬ 
ten when I think of him; but there is a 
luxury in thinking of the one that is gone, 
which I would not part with l'or the world. 
I think of my child now, a child always, 
though an angel among angels. 
The child is dead. The eye has lost its 
lustre. The hand is still and cold. Tho | 
little heart is not beating now. How pale j 
it. looks ! Yet tho very form is dear to me. t 
Every lock of its hair, every feature of the j 
face, is a treasure that 1 shall prize the I 
more, as the months of my sorrow come 
and go. 
Lav tho little one in his coffin. IIo was 
never in so cold and hard a bed, but he will I 
leel it not. IIo would not know it, if ho 
had been laid in tho cradle, or in his moth¬ 
ers arms. Throw a flower or two by his 
side; liko them ho withereth. 
Carry him out to tho grave. Gently.— 
It is a hard road this to tho grave. Every 
jar seems to disturb the infant sleeper — 
Here we aro, at the brink of the sepulchre. 
Oh, how damp, and dark, and cold! But 
the dead do not feel it. There is no pain, I 
no fear, no weeping there. Sleep on now, ■ 
and take your rest ! 
Fill it up ! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust! 
Every clod seems to fall on my heart.— 
Every smothered sound from the grave is 
saying, Gone, gone, gone ! It is full now.— 
Lav the turf gently over tho dear child.— 
Plant a myrtle among tho sods, and let tho 
little one sleep among the trees and flowers. 
Our child is not there. His dust, precious 
dust, indeed, is there, but our child is in 
heaven. He is not here ; he is risen. 
I shall think of the form that is moulder¬ 
ing here among tho dead ; and it will be a 
mournful comfort to come at times, and 
think of tho child that was once tho light 
of our house, and the idol—ah ! that I must 
own tho secret of this sorrow !—tho idol of 
my heart. 
And it is beyond all language to express 
the joy, in the midst of tears, I feel, that my 
sin. in making an idol of the child, has not 
made that infant less dear to Jesus. Nay, 
there is even something that tells mo the 
Savior called tho darling from mo, that I 
might love the Savior more when I had one 
child less to love. lie knoweth our frame; 
he knoweth the way to win and bind us.— 
Dear Savior, as thou hast my lamb, give me. 
too, a place in thy bosom. Set me as a seal 
on thy heart.— Thoughts on the Death of 
Little Children. 
ORATORY IS NOT TEACHING. 
A Sunday school teacher should make it 
a point on all occasions, to prepare himself 
well. It is of moro importance thoroughly 
to in ject one great truth into tho mind than 
to smother it witli a bushel of words—mere 
words. In particular he should guard 
against the habit of haranguing, or discours¬ 
ing continuously to his class" This is an 
error into which many worthy teachers havo 
fallen; but years of this kind of labor may 
bo spent with very little effect. The teach¬ 
er ought not to forget that he is not an or¬ 
ator, but a teacher—a communicator of 
truth. Now, for this purpose tho great in¬ 
strument is interrogation. To "get tho 
young mind to attend to tho truth and to 
understand the truth—to bring that truth 
through the understanding, homo to tho 
conscience and to the heart, and to show 
how it will operate upon the life—this should 
be the great business of the teacher. 
Irresolution. —In matters of great con¬ 
cern, and which must be done, there is no 
surer argument of a weak mind, than irres¬ 
olution ; to be undetermined, where the caso 
is so clear, and the necessity is so urgent. 
To bo always intending to livo a new life, 
but never find timo to set about it: this is as 
if a man should put off eating, drinking, and 
sleeping, from one day and night to> another 
till ho is starved and destroyed.— Tillotson. 
Falsehood is not only one of tho most 
humiliating vices, but sooner or later it is 
most certain to lead to serious crimes. 
