MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
357 
APHORISMS FROM PUNCH. 
in Ural. 
REST! 
BY W. II. C- HOSMER. 
A few rods from the harrier gate of Fort Niagara was 
the burying ground. It was tilled with memorials of the 
mutability and brevity of human life, and over the portals 
of entrance was painted, in large and emphatic characters, 
the word “.Rest.”—Judge De Vkaux. 
Earth, upon her ample face, 
Boasts no sweeter burial place 
Than a small inclosure green, 
Near an ancient fortress seen; 
Mossy head-stones here and there 
Names of fallen warriors bear, 
But no eulogistic phrase, 
Cut on rock, that meets the gaze, 
Can our reverence command, 
Like that brief inscription grand, 
On the portal arch impressed—• 
“ Rest 1” 
River wide, and mighty lake, 
For the dead an anthem wake, 
And with old, forgotten graves, 
Well comports the wash of waves; 
Motto of the hallowed ground 
Murmuring with solemn sound; 
Birds that by like spirits pass, 
Winds that murmur in the grass, 
Seem repeating evermore 
That one word the gateway o’er, 
Word that haunts a troubled breast— 
“ Rest 1” 
Pilgrim, for a moment wait 
Near the narrow entrance gate, 
And one word peruse—no more— 
Boldly traced the portals o'er; 
Mortal heart was never stirred 
By a more omphalic word ; 
One with deeper meaning fraught, 
Or the power to quicken thought, 
Sermon, hymn and funeral lay, 
Eloquence the soul to sway, 
In four letters are compressed— 
“ Rest 1” 
[Rochester Daily Union. 
Clit Hum! iketcli ®onk. 
FANNY MORE, 
THE FEMALE HUNTER OF THE WEST. 
The father of the singular heroine wo are 
about to sketch, was a Kentucky backwoods¬ 
man. Her mother died while she was an 
infant, and when she arrived at the age of 
fifteen her father also died, leaving her a 
poor friendless orphan. It is not surprising, 
then, that at this tender age, she married to 
a Missouri hunter, (an acquaintance of her 
deceased father.) double her years as to age, 
but just her equal in poverty. Her whole 
fortune was composed of one cow, an old 
feather bed, a rusty frying pan, a broken 
set of tea cups and saucers, ditto knives and 
forks with horn handles, two largo pewter 
plates, and a wooden bowl of Indian manu¬ 
facture. Such was tlio legacy bequeathed 
by her surviving parent. Her husband’s 
wealth might mate well enough with such a 
portion brought into matrimonial partner¬ 
ship by his wife. A black, bobtailed pony, 
a large wolf dog, and a long, heavy rifle, 
constituted the sum total of his goods and 
chattels. So far, the nuptial contract might 
seem fair, without extravagant odds on 
either side. There were other considera¬ 
tions, however, which made tlio bargain, one 
might say, fraudulently unequal. She was 
a pretty, rosy-cheeked, ruby-lipped, healthy 
la-;s, with sky-blue eyes, golden, ringlets, and 
a cheery laugh, slender in form but of a 
wiry elasticity, and a constitution of tlio 
most tenacious vitality. Ho, on the contra¬ 
ry, was a pale, lean, hungry-looking hypo¬ 
chondriac, who might bo supposed, from 
the wry faces he displayed when forced to 
an exertion of bis limbs in profitable labor, 
to regard work as an unpardonable sin.— 
The entreaties and example of his young 
wife, it is true, did for a while stimulate 
him to just suiiiciont effort, in the way of 
doer hunting, to keep them from starving. 
The couple then lived in Western Missouri. 
Fanny, with her own delicate hands, cleared 
out, and cultivated a small field, and man¬ 
aged her domestic economy with so much 
thrift, that notwithstanding the laziness of 
Tom, they began to accumulate slowly. 
But an event occurred, in the sixth year 
of their wedlock, that changed the present 
current of affairs, and startled her wild 
schemes. A “ great revival.” under the 
guidance of the “Cumberland Presbyteri¬ 
ans,” swept over the West. 
* * * * * * * 
It seems that on Sunday, the Cumber- 
berlander discussed the passage of Scrip¬ 
ture, “Take no thought for the morrow,” 
&c. Tom swallowed the text, but rejected 
the comment, and misinterpreting the sen¬ 
tence, literally came to the deliberate con¬ 
clusion, that it was sinful to provide for 
wants of the wicked body, and resolved to 
act accordingly. 
It was in vain that tlio industrious wife 
debated with the theological spouse. Her 
tears, arguments and remonstrances all 
ended alike in his usual spasm of jerking; 
but as to any other sort of exertion, ho 
would not budge a peg. 
Fanny’s case was npw critical in the ex¬ 
treme, for, strange to say. sho still loved 
her husband with a love that, in spite of 
every imaginable damper, continued to burn 
on ardently in her affectionate heart till 
death. Hence she could not make up her 
mind to leave him. Besides they had now 
five children, and it was absolutely impossi¬ 
ble to support a family on the produce of 
their paltry, stony farm. In this emergency, 
that weak woman suddenly developed an 
energy and invincibility of lofty purpose 
which the annals of the world cannot sur¬ 
pass. 
With indefatigable patience, sho practised 
and learned to shoot, till no marksman in 
all Missouri was her match, and then, as a 
solitary huntress, took to the forest, and 
soon supplied her husband and babies with 
a choice abundance of meat. It is not re¬ 
corded of More that ho manifested any 
aversion towards the venison feasts which 
his better half provided with so much labor, 
however much ho had been opposed to the 
use of such worldly means himself, as the 
expenditure of one needful thought for the 
morrow. 
Tlio wild region of Missouri at last settled 
up. Sunny fields, waving with golden grain, 
stood in the place of the old green woods 
which had furnished shelter and sustenance 
for the copious game. The buffalo fled 
farther oft', deeper into the grand prairies, 
near the Rocky Mountains. The moon¬ 
beams fell broad and light upon the open 
bottoms, where the brown bears used to 
nestle among the matted canes. The red 
deer had been scared away by the sound of 
Collins’ axes. It becamo necessary that 
Fanny should move. Sho soltl her slender 
“ improvement ” on the banks of the silver 
Osage, for a cart, a yoke of oxen, and a 
small sum of money; and loading the crazy 
vehicle with her six children and “jerkcr” 
behoving Tom, sho started for Arkansas.— 
In this new country, then a territory, sho 
selected a locality fifty miles from any set¬ 
tlement. Hero wild animals roamed in the 
greatest plenty, and her rudo board table 
groaned beneath (to them) heaps of savory 
luxuries. This wonder of a wife now added 
rapidly to their humble property. Her 
care-worn, wasted figure grew rounder; her 
step, as she saddled the black pony, more 
elastic; and the whistle blither by which 
she summoned her wolf dog to the hunting 
foray. Even the laugh sometimes rang 
out as in the merry, thoughtless hours of 
her early youth, loud, long and clear as the 
sweet tones of bell metal. 
One thought of a most gloomy character 
alono disturbed the calm How of her joyous 
reflections. Her children were growing up 
with the rapidity of hasty summer weeds, 
and utterly without education, or even the 
prospect of an opportunity to obtain it.— 
The idea haunted her clay and night. She 
turned it over in her mind in every conceiv¬ 
able way, but 'still could find no solution for 
the torturing problem. She had learned to 
spell, when a child, at an old field school— 
that is to say she had gone as far in I) i I - 
worth as three syllables, which, by the way, 
was nearly the extent of her lame teacher’s 
accurate information in the pedagogical art. 
But her memory had long ago lost in the 
inverse ratio of its acquisitions, till she 
could scarcely be said to know her letters. 
Often did she bitterly repent her idleness 
in the early school house, and exclaim as 
she fondly kissed her children on returning 
at night from tlio toilsomo hunt—“ If I had 
only learned to read, I could now teach you, 
my dears.” And her tears would drop like 
rain. 
At length an incident occurred that bro’t 
with it a suggestion shaping itself into a 
fixed plan, which enabled her, finally, to 
vanquish the perplexing difficulty. The 
author cannot do better than give the anec¬ 
dote in her own artless words, as related to 
him in Texas, some twelve months ago: 
“ I used to cry about it every night,” said 
sho, “ before going to sleep, and then I 
would dream it all over again; for indeed, 
it was sad to think of. I knew that by hard 
work wo could, after a while, bo well enough 
off to move into the settlements, where do¬ 
cent people live; and then I thought how 
shocking it would seem for my young ones 
to have no more learning than the wild In- 
d'ans. The hoys were more than half as tall 
as their father, and Peggy’s pretty head was 
even as high as my shoulders. It was 
enough to mako a fond mother cry. I was 
then in the habit of going every two or three 
months to Little Rock, with a pack of pel¬ 
tries. to buy salt, and other things that we 
could not got along without. One time I 
brought back some bunches of raisins for 
the baby. They were wrapped up in a large 
newspaper, which contained a number of 
curious pictures. The sheet was gazed at 
with wonder by the poor creatures, who 
had never seen such an object in their 
lives. Little Tommy asked me, with spark¬ 
ling eyes, if it were not a bird. I tried to 
explain the.matter to him; I told him what 
it was; that it contained a tale about the 
whole world • and that when persons learned 
to read it, they could know all affairs which 
were going on across the blue mountains, 
and the big rivers, and away over the sea, 
as well as the sights they saw every day, 
before their own doors. 
‘ Oh. ma, won’t you teach us how to read, 
so we can hear from our old play-places in 
Missouri?’ said Peggy,who was then almost 
a woman. 
The question liked to have broken my 
heart. I remembered how lazy I had been 
when a girl, and the idea was a sharp shoot¬ 
ing pain, splitting my side into my very 
soul. I wept like a child, till even my own 
children tried to comfort me. However, 
my tears did me good. Tears always re¬ 
lieve the heart; they commonly clear the 
head also. A sudden thought struck me— 
a great plan—I might say a holy purpose. 
It seemed impossible, hut I resolved to try 
it. That night I hurried the young folks off 
to bed, and having kindled a good pino knot 
light, picked up the newspaper, and sat 
down to seo if I could mako out any thing 
in it. I smiled with unspeakable delight, 
on discovering that I still knew all the let- 
lers, except tlio capitals. But I soon had 
cause to weep again, for, after doing my 
best, and sitting up till daylight, every line 
remained a riddle. I could not spell out 
the meaning of a single sentence. 
About sunrise a now notion entered my 
head. I determined to go again shortly to 
Little Rock, and purchase some primers 
and spelling books, which I afterwards did. 
I then began to learn in earnest. It was 
very hard for a while; hut I sat up late, af 
ter Tom and the children were all asleep 
and took my primer along with mo when I 
went to hunt. I could study it as I rode. 
' especially where the woods were open, and 
before I got within the reach of game; and 
then, when I was resting, after lifting a 
heavy deer upon my pony, or walking up a 
steep hill, I would pull out of a pocket 
which I had prepared on purpose in the 
side of my dress, and run over the pages 
till I at last could almost repeat the whole 
from memory. I then commenced on my 
large spelling-book, and mastered that in 
the same way. All the while I wanted to 
be teaching the children, but was afraid of 
teaching them wrong, intending first to 
make myself perfect, because I thought it 
was no use to know anything at all, unless 
one could know it right. 
While thus engaged, a lost hunter stop¬ 
ped a few days at our cabin, and discovering 
my studies kindly offered to assist me. I 
then found that I had done well in not be¬ 
ginning to instruct the boys and Peggy 
sooner. I had to unlearn the pronuncia- 
tion of a great many of my words, that 
sounded frightfully when compared with 
the correct mode. After I got it straight, I 
bought a primer for each of the children, 
and collecting them all together on Sunday 
morning, told them, “ that I was going to 
teach them how to read.” It would have 
done your heart good to see them. They 
appeared to bo running mad with joy, for 
they still remembered what I had said about 
the newspaper, and had teased me much 
upon tho subject. Night after night they 
would sit up till after twelve, studying their 
primers and spolling-books ; and all day on 
tho Sabbath they tried more industriously 
than ever I had done in tho school-rooin, 
until at last they were through both books. 
But I was still a-head of them—for long bo- 
foro then I had obtained a Testament and 
the Life of Marion, and had gone over both 
several times. In this way I taught my dear 
young ones to read, having first of all taught 
myself.” 
For tho literal historical accuracy of the 
foregoing extraordinary facts, we "refer to 
Mrs. Holley’s Book on Texas, where sho 
refers to Mrs. More, although in her narra¬ 
tive she only sets down the initials of her 
name. 
And may we not well be permitted to 
doubt whether the annals of tho globe, and 
all tho ages of time, present a parallel to 
this almost miraculous case ? The bio¬ 
graphies of the self-educated teem, to bo 
sure, with noble examples among the softer 
as among the stronger sex. But did any 
one ever before, either man or woman, go 
through the patient, painful process of vol¬ 
untary self-culture, with the same definito 
and settled object ? Others have struggled 
with tho terrible problem of unaided men¬ 
tal development from the desire of gain, or 
hope of glory ; but she, that poor huntress 
of the backwoods, from purer, loftier, more 
angelic motives, from an infinite tender, ho¬ 
ly, maternal love, and with the sole view of 
fitting herself to be the teacher of her in¬ 
nocent offspring, cut off as they were by in¬ 
superable circumstances from every other 
means of instruction. It makes one better 
to read of circumstances of exalted devo¬ 
tion to conscious duty, and thus to know 
and feel, although tho race of moral heroes 
appears to be nearly or quite extinct, that 
of domestic heroines never can wholly per¬ 
ish, while one mother shall bo left to linger 
on earth with a bright-eyed babe nestling 
about her bosom. 
THE MAELSTROM. 
The maelstrom is a current, or motion of 
tho sea of Norway, tho effects of which are 
no less singular than dangerous. Between 
the Lofoden and Moskoe, the depth of wa¬ 
ter is between thirty-six and forty fathoms, 
when it is flood; the stream runs up the 
country with fearful rapidity, and the roar 
of its impetuous ebb towards the sea, is 
scarcely equalled by the loudest cataracts, 
the noise being heard several leagues off, 
and tho vortex so powerful as to absorb ev¬ 
ery ship that comes within its attraction.— 
It is then beaten to pieces against tho bot¬ 
tom, and fthen tho water is smoother, its 
fragments are thrown up again. But these 
intervals of tranquility happen only at the 
turn of tho ebb and flow, and last but a 
quarter of an hour. Whales often come 
too near the stream, and are overpowered 
by its violence. It is then impossible to 
describe their bowlings and bellowings in 
their fruitless attempts to disengage them¬ 
selves. A bear once attempting to swim 
from Lofoden to Moskoe, to prey upon the 
sheep in that island, was caught by the 
stream and borne down, when he roared so 
terribly as to ho heard on shore. In the 
year 1645, tho stream roared with such noise 
and impetuosity, that on the island of Mos¬ 
koe, tho very stones of the houses fell to 
tho ground. 
Tiie Race for Riches —It is a short¬ 
sighted policy to shut up religion in church- 
and prayer meetings, or even households. 
Religion is intended for tho world; tho 
world has need of it. Your weary, weary 
clanking machinery—ever going, never rest¬ 
ing —how much will you giro for this, and 
what wages will you work for—tho liard- 
edges of that huge complex, money-making 
machine are sawing into your flesh and bone. 
If tlio name and spirit of Christ were poured 
upon your business would not rack you so 
sore and waste you so soon.— Arnot. 
Galileo, the most profound philosopher 
of his ago, when interrogated by tho Inqui¬ 
sition as to his belief of a Supreme Being, 
replied, pointing to a straw on tho floor of 
his dungeon, that from tho structure of that 
object alone, ho would infer with certainty, 
the existence of an intelligent Creator. 
How to Grow Rich. —A man who is very 
rich now, was very poor when he was a boy. 
When asked how he got his riches, ho re¬ 
plied—“ My father taught mo never to play 
till my work was finished, and never to 
spend my money until I had earned it.” 
XnMtf Jfjmrtmrat. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
I MISS THEE! 
I miss thy smile each passing hour,— 
Atone I sit and think of thee, 
In vain I seek fond beauty’s bower, 
I ask no smiles but thine for me; 
And I will often thinlc of thee! 
I miss thee at the dawn of day, 
I miss thee in the starlit night, 
In vain the sunbeams brightly play; 
Or stars flash out their cloud girt light, 
One smile alone for mo is bright. 
I miss thee in my silent room ; 
I miss thee by the rippling stream ; 
And in the forest's pathless gloom, 
Or where the wavelets softly gleam ; 
In each thy smile comes on my dream. 
I miss thee on the mountnin side, 
I miss thee by the pebbly shore, 
And in the valley deep and wide, 
Or when the waves mid breakers roar,— 
I miss my Lizzie evermore I 
Albany, N. Y.: Oct., 1852. D. H. II. 
For the Rural New Yorker. 
“AUTUMN IS FAST PASSING AWAY.” 
These were the words uttered by a man 
who had lived almost “ three score years 
and ten.” He had passed through many 
scenes of sorrow and affliction—had been a 
prey to many dire diseases, and at the ad¬ 
vanced ago of sixty-eight he looked forth 
upon the faco of nature, and seeing it cov¬ 
ered with sere and yellow leaves, he ex¬ 
claimed, “ Autumn is fast passing away,”— 
and he, no doubt, felt tho assurance that 
with him time was short, and soon he too 
like the passing season, would have an end. 
Though he had enjoyed many seasons like 
tho ono then passing, yet autumn, to him, 
seemed new and beautiful, and with pleased 
emotion, he exclaimed, 
“ Oh 1 Autumn, thou art beautiful; 
For the Frost king in his might, 
Hath robed the earth all fanciful, 
With hues of rosy light.” 
And we too, of light stop and beaming 
eye, feel that autumn is indeed beautiful.— 
True the summer flowers have Aided, and 
the forest leaves have fallen, but how re¬ 
freshing are the cooling breezes after the 
sultry heat of summer, and how cheering 
to him that has toiled long and hard be¬ 
neath the scorching rays of tho sun, to sup¬ 
ply the pressing demands of his family, to 
find at this season of the year, sufficient 
within his own grasp, to provide for 
every want during the long, harsh reign of 
Winter. 
Then is it not indeed beautiful? — but 
surely, it is fast passing away, and soon no 
traces of its loveliness will be seen; but old 
Winter with its biting blasts, and howling 
storms, will bo among us. Then the mur¬ 
muring of tho streams will no more be 
heard until tho gentle rays of spring shall 
unlock them; and the merry songsters will 
tuno their matin songs no more until Spring 
shall appear in all her glory. Then the 
music of birds may be heard, and the gurg¬ 
ling of the rills as they glido gently down 
the vallies may sound joyously in our ears, 
—but tho voices and tho gentle footsteps of 
thoso we loved, we can hear no more, for 
they have gone, never to return. They re¬ 
turn not with the vernal flowers, or the 
warbling songsters, but their spirits soar on 
airy pinions in a world where Winter’s blasts 
never enter, and where songs of praise 
never close. Thon should we not be deeply 
impressed with the necessity of fixing our 
minds upon tho things that are imperish¬ 
able, and seek for the enduring beauties of 
the heavenly world ? There, the leaves of 
the Tree of Life never fade, and the crystal 
stream that flows from beneath tho great 
white Throne, never congeals or fails. 
Rose Leslie. 
THE SINGLE WOMAN. 
The single woman is as important an ele¬ 
ment of private and social happiness as the 
married one. The utilities of each are dif¬ 
ferent, but both are necessary. The single 
lady is, in some points of view, placed in a 
position of advantage. The wife resigns, or 
ought to resign, her claims to general at¬ 
tention, and to concentrate and confine her 
regards, wishes and objects to her chosen 
companion, and to domestic claims and 
scenes. She has quitted the public stage; 
and seeks no more the general gaze; she has 
become part of a distinct and separate pro¬ 
prietary. But the unmarried lady remains 
still the candidate for every honorable no¬ 
tice, and injures no ono by receiving it.— 
Those of the male sex who are in the same 
condition, arc at as full liberty to pay their 
proper attentions as she is to receive them. 
Being in this position as to society at large, 
sho is always interesting wherever she goes, 
if sho preserve good temper and cultivate 
truly feminine qualities— Turner. 
Whatever we think out, whatever we take 
in hand to do, should be perfectly and final¬ 
ly finished, that the world, if it must alter, 
will only have to spoil it; wo have then 
nothing to do but unite the severed — to 
recollect and restore tho remembered. — 
Goethe. 
Avoid all harshness and behaviour; treat 
every one with that courtesy which springs 
from a mild and gentle heart. 
Tiie mon who flatter women do not know 
them sufficiently, and tho men who only 
abuse them do not know them at all. 
Romances generally end with a marriage. 
And many young girls, when they leave 
school, would wish to go through the ro¬ 
mance of life—as they do most romances— 
by beginning- at the end. 
Women should rule but not govern. 
If you wish to learn the worst fault of a 
woman, praise her highly to her friends. 
Woman is a most beautiful hook, that too 
frequently is condemned for its errata. 
You can generally toll how popular you 
are with a lady, by the length of time 'she 
keeps you waiting whilst dressing to receivo 
you. 
A fan is a most handy little instrument 
for thoso who have lost the art of blush¬ 
ing. 
Vows are the bad money—the I 0 U’s 
and post-obits with which tho man pays a 
woman the debts of his heart. 
If a young lady has a purse with two ends 
—silver in one end, and gold in tho other— 
she is sure to open the gold end first. 
The only time when women talk much 
amongst ono another, is when they arc wait- 
ing for the gentlemen after dinner. 
] |T ho oyes ot a pretty woman are tho inter¬ 
preters of tho language of her heart. They 
translate what her tongue has a great diffi¬ 
culty in expressing. 
Few women keep a diary after their first 
love. 
A man who has loved madly will laugh at 
his madness as soon as he has got cured of 
it; but a woman never laughs "upon such a 
subject. § With her love is a madness of 
which sho never sees tho folly. 
I don’t know which is worst, a man who 
marries for money, or a woman who plays 
at cards. 
The signal for conversation amongst wo- J 
men is when a pretty girl begins to sing. 
Women will forgivo everything in a man 
except his being a bore—everything in a wo¬ 
man except her being pretty. 
To paint angels, painters liavo borrowed 
the likeness of woman; to paint devils, tho 
likeness of man. 
LAUY EDITORS. 
Several of our exchanges are edited, in ! 
part, or chiefly, by ladies, and we gladly 
bear testimony to tho fact, that most of j 
them are superior to papers of similar aim, 
which are conducted by men only. They 
are more interesting, and have more literary 1 
merit. They are less devoted to kindling a j 
blind, political fury in their readers, have ! 
moro.spaco to spare for matters of perina- : 
nent interest, and are more bold in tho ex- j 
pression of opinion. Indeed, we are inclin- i 
ed to think, that the editorial profession is 
one in which a considerable number of in¬ 
telligent women might find, and perhaps, in 
time, will find, congenial and profitable em¬ 
ployment ; particularly since, in that pro- 
tession, a lady may act beneficially upon the 
public mind, without the inconvenience of 
personal publicity. Margaret Fuller, it will i 
be remembered, conducted the literary de¬ 
partment of a daily paper, with general ac¬ 
ceptance. Mary Howitt, Eliza Cook, Mrs. 
Hall, aro editors; and, in this country, we 
could give a long list of editorial ladies, 
many of whom aro known in that capacity, 
and more of whom are not. It may not bo I 
advisable, in any case, for a lady to set up a 
paper, and become the principal and respon¬ 
sible editor; that would he too toilsome 
and distracting, and, probably, not advan¬ 
tageous to the public. But, in an editorial 
corps, if it should consist of only three 
members, wo think an accomplished woman 
might bo included, much to the advantage 1 
of tho paper and its readers. —- Home Jour. 
Domestic Endearments.— I hold it in¬ 
deed to be a sure sign of a mind not poised 1 
as it ought to be, if it be insensible to the 
pleasures of home, to the little joys and en¬ 
dearments of a family, to the affection of re¬ 
lations, to the fidelity of domestics. Next 
to being well with his own conscience, the 
friendship and attachment of a man’s family 
and dependants seem to mo one of the most ; 
comfortable cirumstances of his lot. His 
situation, with rogard to either, forms that i 
sort of bosom comfort or disquiet that 
sticks close to him at all times and seasons, 
and which, though he may now and then 
forget it, amidst tho bustle of public or the 
hurry of active life, will resume its place in 
his thoughts and its permanent effects on his 
happiness, at every pause of ambition or of 
happiness. 
Love of tiie Beautiful.— Women have 
a much nicer sense of tho beautiful than 
men. 1 hey aro by far the safer umpires ; 
in matters of propriety and grace. A mere j 
school girl will be thinking and writing about ^ 
tho beauty of birds and flowers, while her 
brother is robbing the nests and destroying; 
the flowers. Herein is a great natural law* 
the sexes havo each their relative excel¬ 
lences, and deficiencies, in the harmonious 
union of which lies all tho wealth of do¬ 
mestic happiness. There is no better test 
of moral excellence, ordinarily, than tho 
keenness of one's sense, and the depth of 
ones lo\e, ot all that is beautilul.— Donohu. 
Rich men may cast large offerings into 
tho treasury without tho slightest personal 
inconvenience of self-denial; but when tho 
poor widow cast in her two mites, which 
is all her living, we aro sure that so exem¬ 
plary an act of self-denial results from a 
profound senso of her obligation to God. 
When we havo seen a poor, broken-heart¬ 
ed wife, teased and tormented by half a dozen 
children, or ill treated by a cross and unfeel¬ 
ing husband, wo havo been tempted to think 
that after all, to be an old maid is not the 
worst ill that can befall woman. 
