MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
341 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
A MORNING SCENE. 
’Twas morning, and the glittering dew 
Like diamonds on the meadows lay; 
Her sable curtains night withdrew, 
As onward came the king of day.— 
I walked abroad : the morning breeze 
Was gently playing with the leaves 
Which quivered for a while, and then, 
Unruffled, all was still again. 
The sky above was pure and clear, 
The din of business came from far ; 
And sounded from a railway near, 
The rattle of the flying car. 
The merry songsters on the w ing, 
Sweetly their notes of joy did sing, 
And e'en the bee from home had come; 
I saw her pass and heard her hum. 
I leaned against a sycamore, 
That like a mighty cliieftan stood 
Near where a brook did swiftly pour, 
Just at the margin of a wood; 
Anil as the stream went babbling on 
Where it for centuries had gone, 
Its rippling and increasing swells 
Played like a thousand muffled bells. 
Now poured a flood of liquid light 
From Sol's exhaustless golden fount. 
Dazzling the keen and piercing sight— 
More brilliant far than words recount. 
The trees seemed dressed in shining gold 
With gleaming lace to trim each fold,— 
And gold it was, and such I ween, 
As ne'er a miser's vault can screen. 
The morning scene soon passed away, 
Slowly the cool night air grew warm, 
The dew which on the meadows lay, 
Again assumed ethereal form. 
My wand’ring eye no mis’rv caught, 
With life and joy all things seemed fraught. 
And earth to weary mortals given. 
Seemed basking in the smiles of heaven. 
Perinton, N. Y., Oct., 1S52. Altra. 
Cjje -dural $krtr|r 9cook. 
A WIFE’S DEVOTION; 
OR, THE CHIVALRY OF LOVE. 
BY GEORGE S. RAYMOND. 
For several years, during the early part 
of my life-campaign, I had always argued 
stoutly, that woman’s proper sphere was the 
kitchen, nursery, or drawing-room; and 
that she had no business whatever in the 
out-door world, unless it was to look after 
clothes-lines, young chickens and flower 
pots. Like a world, full of other fools in 
pantaloons, I had considered ivotnan only as 
a sort of pretty toy created for tho especial 
amusement of us "lords of creation;” to be 
potted and caressed while the gloss and gild¬ 
ing remained, but flung coldly aside when 
care, old age, and our own hearthless neg¬ 
lect should have dimmed their pristine lus¬ 
tre. 
I am wiser now—indeed I could not well 
be otherwise with rnv experience, and hence¬ 
forth while I live, I will stoutly maintain 
against all comers, that woman is capable of 
being all that man can be; ay, and more 
too; fora woman may bo an angel. Man 
—never, at least in this world. 
I have told you months since, in tho 
Courier, how I became convicted, and now 
if you will listen only a few moments, I will 
tell you how 1 became fully converted to 
the doctrine that the sphere of woman’s 
usefulness is not, nor even can be, circum¬ 
scribed within tho narrow limits of any Pu¬ 
ritanical. or modern conventional bounds. 
Tho long and desperate struggle which 
had for years been carried on between tho 
Imperial Government of Brazil, and the re¬ 
volted southern provinces, was drawing to a 
close; and I, who for nearly five years had 
been almost constantly on the wing, or what 
amounted to about the sumo thing, on horse¬ 
back, in the patriot service, was on my way 
to join my little Brazilian wife to whom I 
had boon united some five months previous¬ 
ly, and from whose side I had been sum¬ 
moned within three hours after our mar¬ 
riage, to load my command against a body 
of Don Pedro Segundo’s lanceiros, who wore 
committing depredations in tho neighbor¬ 
hood. 
I had been severely wounded in the side 
and shoulder, and what with the exposure 
in our wild, uncomfortable camp, the entire 
lack of proper medical and surgical skill, 
and tho slow fever which had for three 
weeks been consuming me—my iron con¬ 
stitution had given way at last, and I was as 
near dead as a man could well be, and main¬ 
tain his seat in the saddle. 
My homo, or rather that of my wife, was 
on the banks of tho beautiful Uraguay, on 
the extreme western limits of tho Brazilian 
Empire, and my way thither led across tho 
serried peaks, and through the wild passes 
of the Southern Brazilian Andes, a region 
swarming with every species of wild beasts, 
fierce savages', murderous banditti who kil¬ 
led for mere pastime, and bands of Imperial 
troops more savage than brutes, Indians or 
robbers. 
Pleasant, very — don’t you think it was, 
for an invalid scarce able to koep his seat 
in the saddle, and accompanied by only two 
negro slaves possessing hut little more sense 
or reason than tho horses they guided ? 
But I heeded not these things. I had but 
one thought, one hope or wish. I believed 
I must die, and all I wished for was to gain 
the home of my angel wife, sho who had 
snatched me once from the very jaws of 
death. 1 would look into her dark soulful 
eves, listen to the low flute-like tone of her 
loved voice, fed her soft balmy breath upon 
my fevered cheek, press her Hebe-like form 
once more to my throbbing heart, and I 
should die content. 
Seven long tedious days went by, and I 
had struggled on. thus far without coining 
in contact with wild beasts, savages, robbers 
< 
or Imperial soldiers, to within fifteen leagues 
of my journey’s end; when my overtasked 
energies could bear me up no longer, and 
despatching tho most intelligent of my ser¬ 
vants to apprise my wife and her family of 
my situation, I lay down under the shelter 
of a shelving rock in one of tho most rug¬ 
ged, desolate mountain passes I had ever 
seen, with but slight hopes of surviving till 
aid should arrive from my friends on the 
Uraguay. 
It was near r.oon when tho negro depart¬ 
ed on his mission, and as I had promised 
him freedom and ten ounces in gold if he 
reached iny wife’s home that night. I knew 
he would not lose a moment, and I might 
expect relief before night next day, provided 
I lived till that time; which did not seem 
very probable, as within two hours I was 
half delirious—the hot blood driven to the 
extremities by tho raging fever seemed like 
leaping luquid currents of fire; while my 
very vitals appeared to scorch and crisp 
with the subtle heat, and my whole frame 
was racked with the most exquisite torture. 
Twenty times during* tho afternoon, I had 
sent the remaining slave to tho stream 
which wound along the bottom of the ra¬ 
vine. for water to slake my burning thirst. 
Tho sun was perhaps an hour above tho 
horizon, when 1 was suddenly surrounded 
by a band of somo twenty ferocious-looking 
brigands, who were traversing the mountain 
pass to tho westward in pursuit of a train 
of mules loaded with merchandise that had 
preceded them but the day previous. 
I had nothing about me to tempt tho rob¬ 
ber’s cupidity, and as they were rather par¬ 
tial to tho revolutionary party whose uni¬ 
form I wore, they offered me no violence, 
and one of them even brought mo a gourd 
of water; for my slave had tied at the ap¬ 
proach of tho brigands, and I never saw him 
afterwards. 
But all my entreaties, prayers and prom¬ 
ises of reward, were unheeded. I could not 
prevail on them to assist mo forward, nor 
upon any one of them to remain with me 
till my friends shoultl arrive. They were 
intent only upon the capture and plunder 
of tlie mules, and so they departed, leaving 
mo there alone, sick and dying, in that wild, 
desolate mountain pass. 
Tongue nor pen can never picture a thou¬ 
sandth part of tho dreadful agony I suffered 
that long—to me, almost interminable night. 
My scanty supply of water was soon ex¬ 
hausted. and I was raving mad with intoler¬ 
able thirst. In mv frenzy, I tore the ban¬ 
dages from my half-closed wounds, beat my 
head against the rocky fragments that form¬ 
ed my bed, and O ! how 1 prayed for death. 
All throughout tho night, ! heard the 
hoarse roar of tho huge pumas, the fierce 
growls of lions and tigers. and tho quick 
sharp yelp of prowling wolves, all around 
me; and a thousand times I cursed them, 
yelled and screamed at them in maniac 
madness, and dared them to como and 
eat mo. But they did not heed mo. and 
there I lay all that long, horrid night, till it 
was daylight again ; and then I sank into a 
death like torpor, from which I was aroused 
by a heavy weight pressing on my breast, 
and my first glance as I opened my eyes, fell 
upon tho well-remembered features of the 
most deadly enemy 1 had on earth—Col. 
Martinus Areola, of the Imperial army of 
Brazil. 
“ By the Cross ! we are well met Senor 
Raymondo,” spoke the brutal ruflian, with 
his hooted heel crashing into my throat till 
my eyes seemed bursting from their sockets, 
and my black, swollen tongue protruded 
from my mouth, and the wretch laughed in 
derision of my terriblo agony as ho contin¬ 
ued : 
“ We are well met, I say, Senor Raymon¬ 
do. and I doubt not your beautilul bride— 
tho Lady Inez of whom you robbed mo, will 
he very grateful when I tell her how faith¬ 
fully I watched over you in your last mo¬ 
ments. Come, my men ! this gallant officer 
must needs bo somewhat chilly ; gather a 
good supply of dry brush-wood, and we will 
try what effect firo will have on tho disease 
that seems to be wasting him.” 
Fifty bronze - faced ruffians set about 
obeying their commander’s orders, and then 
after five minutes had elapsed, and I was 
placed, all helpless as I was, on a huge pile 
of dry branches, I understood it all. The 
infernal fiend was about to burn ino there 
alive ! 
I would notask my life of the demon, for 
well I knew that it would be unavailing.— 
But O God ! may I never again suffer such 
mental torture as I did while lying there 
surrounded by those devils in human shape, 
as I thought of all the heart-agony that my 
wife must suffer when tho revolting detail's 
of my dreadful death should become known 
to her. 
Once I turned my head towards tho west 
to catch a last glimpse of the setting sun, 
and the next moment I was insensible. 
It was not long that I remained thus; for 
I was aroused again by tho quick rattle of 
pistol shots, the clash of steel, the wild bat¬ 
tle shouts, and dying screams of strong men 
in their last horrid death agony. 
All around mo I beheld a vision of gallant 
men, led on by a slight girlish figure in the 
light blue frock, gold embroidered vest, and 
plumed cap of the southern Gauchas , who, 
mounted upon a superb horse, black as 
night, sped hero and there, shouting our 
battle cry of “Macron lus Imperialistos” in 
which she was joined by her hundred fol¬ 
lowers, who hurled themselves upon the 
doomed ruffians in a whirlwind of gleaming 
steel. 
Tho last wretch was slain, and tho lovely 
woman knelt beside mo; her arms woro 
about my neck, her warm kiss was upon my 
cheek, as sho breathed in a gentle tono the 
words, “My Husband! 
It was my wife—my own angel Inez. She 
had ridden on in advance of more than four 
hundred men, with only a hundred who 
could keep pace with her—and I was saved. 
—American Courier. 
HOW TO GET A WIFE IN INDIA. 
The following mode of obtaining a help¬ 
mate. appears wonderfully convenient and 
satisfactory. All the delay and ceremony 
which precede matrimony among&i us are 
avoided by this system : 
When a man in a decent rank of life 
wishes to marry, and can prove that he pos¬ 
sesses the means of maintaining a wife, it is 
customary for him to apply to the mistress 
of the Byculla school, stato his wishes and 
qualifications, and inquires into the number 
and character of tho marriageable girls. — 
An investigation immediately follows as to 
his eligibility, and if all promises satisfac¬ 
torily. he is forthwith invited to drink tea 
with the school mistress, upon an appointed 
evening, to give him an opportunity of mak¬ 
ing his selection. Tho elder girls are then 
informed of this intended visit, and its pur¬ 
port ; and those who desire to enter the 
matrimonial lists como forward and signify 
their wish to join the party. Frequently 
four or five competitors make their appear¬ 
ance on these occasions in tho mistress’ 
room. The gentleman, while doing his 
best to make himself universally agreeable, 
yet contrives, in the course of the evening, 
to make his preference to one particular 
lady. Should those symptoms of budding 
affection be favorably received, he tenders 
his proposals in due form on the following 
morning. But it often occurs that the se¬ 
lected lady does not participate in the ina¬ 
moratas sudden flame, in which case she is 
at perfect liberty to decline the honor of his 
alliance, and reserve herself for the next 
tea party exhibition. 
We have known instances where an enor¬ 
mous old gentleman from an out-station 
presented himself three successive times at 
these soirees, in the hope of obtaining a wife 
to cheer the solitude of his up-country res¬ 
idence; but all in vain; the young ladies 
unanimously rejected him with the highest 
disdain, wondering how “such an ugly old 
fellow could have the impudence to think of 
a wife.” But a very different reception is 
given to a dashing young serjeant, or a smart 
looking conductor; their attentions are nev¬ 
er repulsed, and the announcement of the 
‘ chosen intendeds,” as Miss Squeers would 
say, is anticipated with the utmost impa¬ 
tience by many an anxious heart. The 
wedding speedily follows, tho bride’s mod¬ 
est “ trouesseau ” being provided from the 
funds of tho establishment, and every girl 
in the school cheerfully contributing her aid 
in the manufacture of dresses. — Life in 
Bombay. 
A MILE A MINUTE. 
Piiilosovhers tell us that the motion of 
the earth is equal to seventeen miles in a 
second ; so that if you take off your hat to a 
friend in Broadway, you go seventeen miles 
bare-headed without catching cold ! Curi¬ 
ous isn’t it ? Some how or other, this odd 
thought came into our mind, while riding 
bare-headed on the locomotive with engineer 
Bolles between Binghampton and Owego; 
good gracious ! how we did “z ip!” Seven 
miles at one timo, in less than seven min¬ 
utes ; and as the hackman told one of tho 
Tuggs at Ramsgate, “ surrounding objects 
rendered inwisible by the hextreme weloci- 
ty.” We know what it is, now, to be killed 
on a railroad, to all necessary “ intents and 
purposes ;” for look you, when we wero go¬ 
ing as on tho very wings of the wind, some 
twenty Irishmen, working on the track, a 
mile or so ahead, seeing us corning like 
lightning, scrambled down the bank, leav¬ 
ing a big stick of wood lying directly across 
tho rail ! We beheld it with gradually-dis¬ 
tending eyes, knowing full well that if it 
were not removed, our “ time had come !” 
The backward thoughts of a life-time were 
crowded into that moment! But a finger 
was providentially pointed to the timber; a 
hand was stretched out toward it; and as 
we thundered by our preserver stood alone 
by the track, holding tho stick of wood by 
his side.— Knickerbocker. 
CURIOUS HISTORICAL FACT. 
During tho troubles in tho reign of 
Charles I., a country girl came to London 
in search of a place as a servant maid; but 
not succeeding, sho hired herself to carry 
out beer from a warehouse, and was one of 
those called tub women. The brewer ob¬ 
serving a good looking girl in this low occu¬ 
pation. took her into his family as servant, 
and after a short timo married her. lie 
died while sho was yet a young woman, and 
left her the bulk of his fortune. The busi¬ 
ness of brewiug was dropped, and Mr. Hyde 
was reccommended to the young woman as 
a skilful lawyer, to arrange her husband’s 
affairs. Hyde, who was afterwards Earl of 
Clarendon, finding the widow’s fortune con¬ 
siderable, married her. By this marriage 
thero was no other issue than a daughter, 
who was afterwards tho wifo of James II.. 
and mother of Mary and Anne, (iueens of 
England. 
A Noble Thought. —Whon we contem¬ 
plate tho fall of empires, and tho extinction 
ot tho nations of tho ancient world, wo see 
but little more to excite our regret than the 
mouldering ruins of pompous palaces, mag¬ 
nificent monuments, lofty pyramids, and 
walls and towers of tho most costly work¬ 
manship. But when the empiro of Ameri¬ 
ca shall fall, the subject for contemplative 
sorrow will be infinitely greater than crumb¬ 
ling brass or marble can inspire. It will 
not then be said, “ Here stood a temple of 
vast antiquity—here rosea Babel of invisi¬ 
ble height, or thero a place of sumptuous 
extravagance;” but here—a painful tho’t! 
—tho noblest work of human wisdom, the 
grandest scene of human glory, the fair 
cause of Freedom rose and fell 1* 
Praise, when judiciously bestowed, tends 
to encourage every one in tho pursuit of ex¬ 
cellence. 
lubtta’ Jtpartnwrt. 
COELEBS IN SEARCH OF A WIFE. 
Mr. Editor: —I am a constant reader of | 
your valuable journal, and confess myself 
highly pleased with the productions that ap¬ 
pear from time to timo in tho Rural Sketch 
Book. It was with no little degree of in¬ 
terest that I perused the autobiography of 
the youth who wanted to “seo tho.world,’ 
—published a week or two since. May the 
sketch prove salutary to more thui one far¬ 
mer's son. who is now discontented with his 
lot, and is desirous of abandoning that no¬ 
ble calling, to become a lawyer, doctor, min¬ 
ister. merchant, or as your correspondent 
aptly expresses it. “any thing but a farmer.” 
But. while 1 acknowledge myself highly en¬ 
tertained with your correspondent’s adven¬ 
tures, I feel called upon to read him a se¬ 
vere lecture for permitting that “applica¬ 
tion of another sort ” to appear in tho con¬ 
cluding paragraphs of his sketch. 
So, Mr Ned Rover, (for I shall take the 
liberty of giving you this cognomen, wheth¬ 
er you like it or not,) you are a “ Coelebs in 
search of a wife.” Now. Sir, while I do not 
disapprove of your object, 1 can but ques¬ 
tion the course you have seen fit to adopt 
for its accomplishment. I, sir, am a far¬ 
mers daughter, have received as good an 
education as—Seminary afforded, am called 
a good house-keeper,—can make butterand 
cheese, bake, iron, and scold on washing 
days. I am moreover possessed of a good 
farm and farm-house in my own right, and 
would have no objection to change my con¬ 
dition, provided tho applicant for my hand 
was good looking, talented, and has “seen 
the world,” and possessed of all other car¬ 
dinal virtues. But I can assure Mr. Rover, 
that he must bo a more adroit “fisher” of 
women than I take him to be, if ho thinks 
that I, or indeed any other farmer’s daugh¬ 
ter. can be caught by a mere dandy, or oth¬ 
er artificial Uy. I am a great admirer of 
education and talent, provided the person 
also possesses a good disposition, and habits 
of industry. The idea of “love in a cot¬ 
tage” may be a very romantic one; but 
when the romance is gone, I opine that 
your correspondent would agree with me 
that something more is necessary to happi¬ 
ness. 1 wish Mr. T. K H. all tho success 
he is entitled to, but must decline sending 
any letter to the address he has given, nor 
shall I give him my own. Why, Mr. Rover, 
is there no other way that you can get a 
“companion for life?” What a pity the 
days of chivalry are over! You might 
then win the hand of some fair one with the 
sword. 
In conclusion let me quote a word of ad¬ 
vice from that clever British poet, Byron, 
which may prove of service to your corres¬ 
pondent in tho pursuit in which he is en¬ 
gaged : 
“ Like Diun’s kiss, unasked, unsought. 
Love gives itself, but is not bought; 
Nor voice, nor sound betrays 
Its deep, impassioned gaze. 
It comes—the beautiful, the free. 
The crown of all humanity— 
In silence and alone 
To seek the elected one 1 
Trumansburg, N. Y., Oct., 1252. SALLY JANE. 
THE DEAD DOVE. 
“It is only a bird, Aua,” said the young 
lover of a gentle girl; “why should you 
grieve over its death ?” 
“ If tho song sparrow had died, or the 
little wren, or even the robin,” replied Ada, 
sadly, “ my heart would not have felt the 
pain that now oppresses it; but to look upon 
a dead dove, touches my feelings deeply.” 
“But why should you feel more pain be¬ 
cause a dove has died ? Its life is the same 
as the life of a robin, a sparrow, or a wren.” 
“ No, not the same, Henry.” 
“ Wherein lies the difference T 
“Are not their bodies different T 
“ Oh, yes.” 
“ It is because their lives aro different that 
their bodies vary in appearance; each is a 
form of affection ; the sparrow of one affec¬ 
tion, and the dove of another. And this is 
the reason why, in looking upon one, we 
are affected differently from what we are 
when we look at another.” 
“ A strange doctrine, Ada, is it not T 
“Oh, no. What makes tho wolf differ 
from the lamb ? Is it not his affection, of 
which his body is the repulsive form ? The 
wolf is embodied cruelty, and the lamb is 
embodied innocence. And how good is our 
all-wise and merciful Creator in thus placing 
bofore our eyes, in this world, embodied af¬ 
fections, that we may the more fully under¬ 
stand their evil or good qualities! When 
wo look upon a cruel beast, wo have a more 
perfect idea of the direful nature of those 
affections in our hearts which originate in 
in self-love; and when we look at an inno¬ 
cent lamb, a gentle dove, wo perceive tho 
beauty of good affections.” 
“Yours is a beautiful theory, Ada; and if 
true, how full of life! With what new 
eyes would I look around me on the visible 
forms of nature, if I could believe as you 
believe.” 
“ I cannot believe otherwise,” said Ada, as 
she lifted her eyes from the bird in her 
hand, and looked tenderly at her lover. 
“ And this dove—to what affection does 
it correspond, and why are you so deeply 
touched by its death ? 
“Need you ask, Henry? Is it not tho 
embodied form of a pure, confiding love— 
such love as only a woman’s heart can feel ? 
And do you wonder that I am pained to see 
the death of such a love ? Can I help 
thinking of woman’s trusting heart betray¬ 
ed ?—of affection trampled out undor the 
foot of neglect and wrong ?” And tears 
came into tho eyes of tho pure-minded girl. 
“Dear Ada !” said tho young man, earn¬ 
estly, “ why will you let such painful tho’ts 
come into your mind ? They have no busi¬ 
ness there; your heart will never know be¬ 
trayal ; your affections will never be tram¬ 
pled out under the crushing foot of neg¬ 
lect.” 
“ I did not think of myself,” returned 
Ada, quickly, “I thought only of others.” 
The young man pressed his lips to hers, 
and then their eyes dropped from each oth¬ 
er’s, and rested upon tho form of tho dead 
dove. 
“Never shall her heart feel tho pangs of 
neglect; never, no never!” said the lover, in 
earnest self-communion. 
May his words prove a true prophecy; 
and if, in after life, his heart swerve, even 
for an instant, from its affection, may the 
form of the dead dove present itself, and 
warn him of tho ruin his infidelity would 
occasion !— Lady's Book. 
MARRIED BY CHANCE. 
The Count do M-lived in a stato of 
single and independent blessedness. Ho 
was yet young, very rich, and surrounded 
by every thing that could give enjoyment 
to life—except a wife. Ho had frequently 
thought of becoming a husband, but had 
always declared off before tho knot was tied. 
Oneo, however, he found himself very near 
committing the folly of matrimony. A 
young person, tho daughter of ono of his 
friends, passed him ; her fortune pleased 
him, not less, perhaps, than her person and 
accomplishments, and there were other 
reasons of convenience, etc., to justify the 
union. 
Tho count, who had frequently made tho 
fii’st step towards matrimony, but as fre¬ 
quently drew back, had not yet decided 
upon the course to bo adopted in this case; 
he had promised tho friends of the lady 
repeatedly, but had made no outward sign 
of preformance. His future mother, how¬ 
ever, knowing his weakness in this respect, 
resolved to bring matters to a termination, 
and therefore, demanded <jf the Count 
whether ho would not marry her daughter, 
and requested an immediate reply. The 
Count found himself in a great embarrass¬ 
ment. At this moment his fears and hesi¬ 
tation returned with more force than ever 
—ho trembled at the consequences. To 
give up his cherished habits of bachelor¬ 
hood, he found was hard—it was almost im¬ 
possible. In this emergency ho resolved to 
appeal to chance. IIo wrote two letters— 
in tho one he accepted the hand of tho lady, 
in the other refused it. He then put them 
in a hat and called his servant. 
“ Take one of these letters,” said ho, “ and 
carry it to the chateau de-.” 
“ Which, sir ?” 
“ Which you please.” 
The servant chose a letter. Tho Count 
burnt tho other without opening it. 
A distance of ten leagues separated tho 
two chateaus. The domestic must be ab¬ 
sent twenty-four hours ; twenty-four hours 
must elapse before the Count could know 
his fate. His situation is anything but agree¬ 
able; he knows not during twenty-four 
hours, whether he is a married man or a 
single one—whether he has still tho power 
to dispose of himself, or whether he is al¬ 
ready disposed of. The domestic returned. 
He had carried the letter of acceptance, and 
M. de M-is even at this time, tho hap¬ 
piest husband in that part of the country. 
— Albion. 
Matrimonial. —The following modest ad¬ 
vertisement appears in the Pensacola (Fa.) 
Gazette of tho 29th ult. To any eligiblo and 
devoted woman this is a chance. 
“ A wife wanted by a respectable young 
man ot sober and industrious habits, freo 
from all thoso vices so common to young 
men of the present age, inclined to be rr- 
ligious and attends church regular, means 
limited but good prospects. 
Specifications. —Age to be from seventeen 
to thirty five, with good teeth, black hair and 
eyes, small feet and hands, medium height, 
slight curve in the neck, even temper, good 
voice for singing, talk very little, to under¬ 
stand tho use of the aerd/e perfectly as there 
will bo a good deal of mending to do. a mod¬ 
erate fortune, say from ten to twenty thous¬ 
and. no relatives. In fact she is to be a de¬ 
voted woman to her husband and nothin** 
shorter. Add ess Yoke, Warrington, Fa. ° 
Power of Music. —A clergyman, says 
Mrs. Sigourney, possessing much knowl¬ 
edge of human nature, instructed his daugh¬ 
ters in tho theory and practice of music.— 
They were all observed to bo exceedingly 
amiable and happy. A friend inquired if 
there was any secret in his mode of educa¬ 
tion. He replied, “ When anything disturbs 
their temper, I say to them, ‘ sing,’ and if I 
hear them speaking against any person, I 
call them to sing to me; and so they have 
sung away all causes of discontent, and every 
disposition to scandal.” Such a use of tiffs 
accomplishment might serve to fit a family 
for the company of angels. Young voices 
around the domestic altar, breathing sacred 
music, at the hour of morning and evening 
devotion, aro a sweet and touching accom¬ 
paniment. 
Affection, like spring flowers, breaks 
through tho most frozen ground at last; and 
the heart which seeks but for another heart 
to make it happy will never seek in vain. 
Pride destroys all symmetry and grace, 
and affectation is a more terriblo enemy to 
fine laces than the small-pox. 
i 
: 
