JULY 31. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
219 
Written for Moore’s Knral New-Yorker. 
letters prom the bavarian capital, 
’NtTMB'KTt THREE. 
Munich—Art-Social Habits-Liebig. 
Of ttie Glyptothek and Pinakothek I shall write 
but little, although I visited them often, and 
devoted more time to the inspection of the works 
of art which they contain than to anything else in 
Munich. It is impossible to make a satisfactory 
description of a picture gallery. How shall I 
give any just idea of the thirteen hundred pictures 
which are contained in the Pinakothek —a magnifi¬ 
cent building, constructed by Klenze, and worthy 
of holding its treasures of art. Indeed, it is im¬ 
possible for the tourist even to notice all of the 
pictures in the time which he usually wishes to 
devote to Munich. The best plan is, first to pass 
rapidly through the gallery, and afterwards to 
study the pictures that are the most celebrated, or 
that interest one most I spent the most of my 
time in the largest of the thirteen halls of the 
Pinakothek. This hall and a side cabinet are en¬ 
tirely occupied by pictures of Reubens, and con¬ 
tains about ninety-five. One of the best is “ The 
Fall of the Damned Angels .” The whole canvas is 
covered with figures, all falling downward, through 
smoke and flame, into the lake of fire. At the 
bottom are hideous monsters, twisting about and 
biting those who have fallen among them. This 
picture is remarkable for the number of figures 
drawn in it, in every attitude, and with a variety of 
expression which show the highest skill of the 
master in drawing, and powers of invention 
which belong only to the greatest minds. 
There is an energy in Reubens’ imaginative 
works that is wonderful. In the Ratlihaus of 
Augsbrug hangs a picture—" The Last Judgment ” 
—which is attributed to him. The painting is 
much faded, and there is no brilliancy of color to 
deceive; nothing, indeed, is left but the mere 
sketching of a picture. Christ is represented in 
the middle; on his right are the blessed, and on 
his left the damned. Satan is among the latter, 
seizing and bearing them away to hell. It is im¬ 
possible to give an idea, by description, of the ex¬ 
pression of these two groups, or the effect it pro¬ 
duces on the spectator, but I believe that such a 
picture, if hung in a church would be a more 
effectual preacher than the one in the pulpit 
These works of Reubens form the most valuable 
part of the Munich gallery, though there are many 
fine pictures from the Italian, French and Spanish 
schools. Some of the best are from Murillo. 
They are pictures of life among the lower classes 
of Spain, and are renowned on account of their 
truthfulness to nature. Not far from this gallery 
stands the New Pinakothek, filled with modern 
paintings. Perhaps the most remarkable thing 
about the building is a number of fresco paintings, 
reaching in a band around the outside. 
The Glyptothek contains one of the most 
valuable collections of sculpture in the world. 
The building is of peculiar construction, being 
square, and having an open court in the centre, 
from which, and from the roof, it is lighted; so 
that there are no windows on the exterior. There 
are niches all round the outside for the reception 
of statues, but only those on the front (six in num¬ 
ber) are filled. These contain the statues of 
Pericles, Phidias, Vulcan, Hadrian, Prome¬ 
theus and D.udalus. There are thirteen halls, 
each devoted to the representation of a different 
period of Art, from the time of the Egyptians 
down to the fall of the Roman Empire. One room 
contains pieces of modern sculpture—works by 
Canova, Dannecker, Thorwaldsden. The in¬ 
terior of the Glyptothek exceeds, if possible, the 
effect of the exterior. The floors are composed of 
various colored marble, no two being of like 
patterns. A few of the apartments contain no 
sculpture, but the visitor pauses long in them to 
look at the splendid frescoes of Cornelius. 
My observations on the social habits of the 
people of Munich convinced me that they act on 
the principle, common throughout' Germany, that 
it is quite as human, and, indeed, as profitable in 
the long run, to devote a considerable part of their 
time to innocent amusements and social inter¬ 
course, as to enslave themselves to business and all 
the stern realities of life. I used often to go into 
the court garden of an afternoon, and the gaiety 
I saw there always made the hours fly swiftly. 
Under the trees was a crowd of people seated on 
light iron chairs and seats by tables and stands of 
the same material, engaged in conversation, drink¬ 
ing coffee, and eating ices and other refreshments. 
The walks were full of people promenading in the 
shade, and two or three military bands filled the 
air with melody. I met with various companions 
in this garden, for it seemed to be the resort of 
strangers as well as of citizens. One of these 
happened to be a young American artist, and at 
evening we took a stroll together, qnd by the time 
the lamps were lighted found ourselves on the 
Maximilian's Plalz, a fashionable part of the city. 
While standing there in the street we heard at 
once three different bands of music, playing in as 
many gardens. By paying four cents apiece, we 
entered one of these, which was brilliantly lighted 
with gas, and filled with people who were Beated 
by tables underneath the trees and arbors. Every¬ 
body was drinking beer. The assemblage, con¬ 
sisting of both sexes, was of the middle classes, 
well dressed, orderly and polite. Knots of friends 
and family groups, seated at high tables, laughed 
and talked in the intervals of playing, and ap¬ 
parently enjoyed the evening most capitally. The 
music was of the best kind, indeed, it is not at all 
customary among the Germans to listen to that 
which is bad. These bands also play in the 
churches, and I fear the music tends more to draw 
large congregations than anything else. But it 
looks strange to see a military band, dressed in 
their regimentals and wearing brass helmets, 
furnishing sacred music for worship in a church. 
One day of my sojourn in Munich happened to 
be a holiday, kept by the Catholic Church, and in 
the afternoon the shops were closed, and the 
people went to places of amusement. I went to 
the Court Garden, thinking there would be bands 
of music there, and crowds of people assembled 
in the shade. There were, however, no bands, and 
but few sitting or standing still; but there was so 
great a stream of people pouring through it 
seemed as if the whole population of the city 
might pass in a short time. 
I joined the crowd, and soon found myself in 
the English Garden, which is about four miles long 
and half a mile broad, and so called because it is 
laid out in the manner of English parks. It affords 
the inhabitants of Munich a space for walks and 
drives among beautiful groves and meadows 
which few cities in the world possess. At the 
entrance the streams of people divided, and each 
person followed his inclinations in choosing from 
the many beautiful walks before him. I heard 
music in the distance, and walking towards it 
presently came to a wooden Chinese pagoda, in 
the top of which was a brass band. Children, 
gaily dressed, were running up and down the 
winding stairs, and dancing round the platforms 
on each story. Round about, in the shade of the 
trees, were hundreds of people—men, women and 
children—some seated at rude tables, and engaged 
in drinking beer from quart stone mugs; some 
lying on the grass with their beer mugs beside 
them, and some strolling leisurely about. I left 
this place, and walking on through the park, in a 
few minutes came to another assemblage in an en¬ 
closure, also listening to music and drinking beer 
beneath the trees. A few minutes’ walk brought 
me to a couple more, so that in half an hour I 
found four different bands of music, each playing 
to large assemblages of persons, which were 
dranking beer from quart stone mugs and eating 
brown bread and butter. Some of the gardens 
had attractive names. I heard one little fellow 
sing out, as he entered a gate, “ Here’s the Garden 
of Paradise,” and over the gate of another was 
written, “ Garden of Riches.” 
On the last day which I passed in Munich I went 
to hear the world-renowned chemist, Liebig, lec¬ 
ture. His laboratory and lecture-room are in the 
same house in which he resides. When he entered 
the lecture-room the students all rose to receive 
him, and he acknowledged their attention by a 
polite bow. He wore a black dress coat and white 
pantaloons. Liebig is a fine, intellectual-looking 
man, tall though not broad; has iron grey hair- 
which has fallen-off from his broad and projecting 
forehead; he wears no beard. He lectures in a 
very conversational manner, part of the time 
sitting; makes many gestures, and good ones too. 
His face is expressive. He is indeed a good deal 
of an orator, and perhaps the best popular lecturer 
in Germany. Liebig was fifty-six years old on the 
12th of May, 1857. He was born in Darmstadt, 
and at the age of twenty-one was made Professor 
at Giessen. In 1852 he came to Munich. Between 
the years 1832 and 185G he published one hundred 
and seventy-seven papers, many of which were 
very elaborate. He is said to be proud and 
overbearing; he is, however, on the side of 
Progress, and heads the Reform party in the 
University. I heard an American gentleman, who 
was well acquainted with him, express this 
opinion:—"I don’t know a man whom a little 
judicious damning would do as much good as 
Liebig. He is cross and tyrannical to his assist¬ 
ants, and they do not deserve such treatment.” 
G. f. w. 
THE HOT WINDS AND DUST OF INDIA. 
Campaigning can only be done at an enormous 
cost The hottest day that comes, let some one 
who is sincerely desirous of understanding what 
the dry winds of India are like, repair to an iron- 
foundry in full activity, and let him stand in front 
of the fire when the furnace-door is opened; but 
unless he can add to it the odors procurable by 
standing over the furnace of a Strand cookshop, 
in the dog-days, he will have but a poor idea of the 
nastiness of the blast, which, sweeping over burn¬ 
ing sandy plains, covered with putrefying remains, 
whisks clouds of pulverized animal matter along 
with it, and rushes in dense, yet low volumes, all 
over the city and plains around it 
To the increasing heat there is added length of 
days, greater power to the wind, and if possible, 
more dust Of the latter it is quite beyond the 
powers of writing to give a description. It is so 
fine and subtile that long after the causes which 
raised it have ceased to exert their influence, you 
may see it like a veil of gauze between your eyes 
and every object. The sun, while yet six or seven 
degrees above the horizon, is hid from sight by it 
as though the luminary was enveloped in a thick 
fog, and at early morn and evening this vapor of 
duBt suspended high in air, seems like a rain-cloud 
clinging to a hill side. When the dust is set rapid¬ 
ly in motion by a hot wind, and when the grosser 
sand, composed of minute fragments of tal, scales 
of mica and earth, is impelled in quick, successive 
waves through the heated atmosphere, the effect is 
quite sufficient to make one detest India forever. 
Every article in your tent, your hair, eyes and nose, 
are filled and covered with dust, which deposits a 
coating half an inch thick all over the tent— W 
H Russell, in London Times. 
THE DAILY LIFE OF MILTON. 
In his mode of living, Milton, as might be an¬ 
ticipated, was moderate and temperate. At his 
meats he never took much of wine or any other 
fermented liquor, and he was not fastidious in his 
food; yet his taste seems to have been delicate and 
refined, like his other senses, and he had a prefer¬ 
ence for such viands as were of an agreeable fla¬ 
vor. In his early years he used to sit up late at his 
studies; and perhaps he continued this practice 
while his sight was good; but in his latter years, 
he retired every night at nine o’clock, and lay ’till 
four in summer, ’till five in winter; and, if not dis¬ 
posed then to rise, he had some one to sit at his 
bedside and read to him. When he rose, he had a 
chapter of the Hebrew Bible read for him; and 
then, with, of course, the intervention of breakfast, 
studied ’till twelve. He then dined, took some ex¬ 
ercise for an hour—generally in a chair, in which 
he used to swing himself—and afterwards played 
on the organ, or the bass-viol, and either sang him¬ 
self or made his wife sing, who had a good voice 
but no ear. He then resumed his studies ’till six, 
from which hour ’till eight he conversed with 
those who came to visit him. Ho finally took a 
light supper, smoked a pipe of tobacco, and drank 
a glass of water, after which he retired to rest— 
Knightly's Milton. 
ONE MAN’S MEAT, ANOTHER MAN’S POISON 
The substance which nourishes one animal af¬ 
fords no nourishment for another, nor will any 
table of “ nutritive equivalents,” however precise, 
convinoe us that a substance ought to nourish in 
virtue of its composition, when experience tells 
us that it does not nourish in virtue of some de¬ 
fect relative between it and the organism. — 
That one man’s meat is another man’s poison, is 
a proverb of strict veracity. There are persons, 
even in Europe, to whom a mutton chop would be 
poisonous. 
The celebrated case of Abbe de Villedieu is a 
rare, but not unparalleled example, of animal food 
being poisonous; from his earliest years his re¬ 
pugnance to it w T as so decided that neither the en¬ 
treaties of his parents nor the menaces of his 
tutors could induce him to overcome it After 
reaching the age of thirty, on a regimen of vege¬ 
table food, he was over persuaded, and tried the 
effect of meat soups, which led to his eating both 
mutton and beef; but the change was fatal; ple¬ 
thora and sleepiness intervened, and he died of 
cerebral inflammation. 
In 1844, a French soldier was forced to quit the 
service because he could not overcome his violent 
repugnance and disgust towards animal food. Dr. 
Prout, whose testimony will be more convincing 
to English readers, knew a person on whom mut¬ 
ton acted as poison. “ He could not eat mutton in 
any form. The peculiarity was supposed to be 
owing to caprice, but the mutton was repeatedly 
disguised and given to him unknown; but uni¬ 
formly with the same result of producing violent 
vomiting and diarrhoea. And from the severity 
of the effects, which were, in fact, those of virulent 
poison, there can be little doubt that, if the use of 
mutton had been persisted in, it would have soon 
destroyed the life of the individual.” Dr. Pereira, 
who quotes this passage, adds:—" I know of a gen¬ 
tleman who has repeatedly had an attack of indi¬ 
gestion after the use of roast mutton.” 
Some persons, it is known, cannot take coffee 
without vomiting; others are thrown into a gen¬ 
eral inflammation if they eat cherries or goose¬ 
berries. Hahn relates of himself that seven or 
eight [strawberries would produce convulsion in 
him. Tissot says he could never swallow sugar 
without vomiting. Many persons are unable to 
eat eggs; and cakes or puddings having eggs in 
their composition produce serious disturbances in 
such persons; if they are induced to eat them under 
false assurances of no eggs having been employed, 
they are soon undeceived by the unmistakable 
effects. 
Under less striking forms this difference in the 
assimilating power of different human beings is 
familiar to us all; we see our friends freely indulg¬ 
ing, with benefit instead of harm, in kinds of food 
which, experience too painfully assures, we can 
eat only with certain injury. To this fact the at¬ 
tention of parents and guardians should seriously 
be given, that by it they may learn to avoid the 
petty tyranny and folly of insisting on children 
eating food for which they have a manifest repug¬ 
nance. It is too common to treat the child’s re¬ 
pugnance as a mere caprice, to condemn it as 
“ stuff and nonsense,” when he refuses to eat fat 
or eggs, or certain vegetables, and “wholesome 
puddings.” Now, even caprice in such matters 
should not be altogether Blighted, especially when 
it takes the form of refusal; because the caprice 
is probably nothing less than the expression of a 
particular and temporary state of his organism, 
which we Bhould do wrong to disregard. And 
whenever a refusal is constant, it indicates a posi¬ 
tive unfitness in the food. Only a gross ignorance 
of physiology—an ignorance unhappily too wide¬ 
ly spread—can argue that because a certain article 
is wholesome to many, it must necessarily be 
wholesome to all. Each individual organism is 
specially different from every other.— Jllackwood. 
CURIOSITIES IN CRYSTALS. 
The wind is from the northeast, an ashen gray 
sand sweeps close overhead, the general exclama¬ 
tion, is, “it feels like snow.” Soon the flakes 
begin to descend; at first leisurely and few; then 
swifter; and finally faster, faster. Before an hour 
the earth is covered with a white mantle, composed 
of millions on millions of little crystals, each as 
perfect of its kind as a diamond, and each in 
itself, if you will only look at it, as beautiful. Take 
up one. It melts in your hand; it is gone. See 
that other, on the very top of the snow-drift, 
glistening, gem-like, in the sunshine. A while ago 
it was vapor floating in the sky; before that it 
was a drop of sea water; to-morrow it will be fluid 
again, and mingling with the ocean. Examine its 
shape. It is like a tiny star cut in Carrara marble. 
Yet no sculptor, nor even lapidist, could ever rival 
it No marble is fine enough to fabricate it 
What subtle power in nature has made this snow¬ 
flake so different in appearance from the rain-drop, 
yet substantially the same? The very boys in a 
telegraph office will tell you it was magnetism. 
Yes! it is this, as yet almost unknown agent, the 
motive power by which we send “lightning” 
messages to our friends, which helps to crystallize 
alike the diamond at the bottom of the mine and 
the snow-flake high up in heaven. 
The whole subject of crystals is beautiful beyond 
imagination. It is crystallization, and crystalliza¬ 
tion alone, which draws the line between the 
diamond that flashes on a lady’s finger, and the 
charcoal that smuts a kitchen maid. Sandstone 
and granite, limestone and marble, have their 
essential differences in crystallization. One has 
been formed in the laboratory of nature, by the 
slow deposit of matter held in solution in primeval 
seas, the other by particle on particle, also held in 
solution, arranging itself in the precision of 
soldiers at a review. No architect ever built more 
regularly than nature when constructing even the 
smallest crystaL Plants and animals grow by suc¬ 
cessive developments; increase by assimilation 
through chemical changes; bat crystals are 
equally perfect in their earliest stages, and enlarge 
only by accretion. Yet crystals, like all other 
created things, die in time. Mines abound with 
skeletons of crystals. Crystals differ in shape—as 
the micrescope reveals—almost as much as plants 
themselves. Yet the same substances always crys¬ 
tallize in the same forms, at least under the same 
conditions, so that we may say there are tribes 
and races of crystals, with typical shapes, exactly 
as of men. 
Crystallization is found through all nature. 
There is not a substance which, when allowed the 
free movement of its particles, does not exhibit a 
tendency to crystallize. Water, at a low tempera¬ 
ture, crystallizes into ice. Metals, slowly cooled 
after melting, crystallize. The gases, evanescent 
as they seem, may be made so artificially cold as 
to crystallize. Our children cat crystallized sugar 
under the name of rock candy, and we ourselves 
use it in the loaf, crystallized in another form. 
What is glass but a crystal? The sizes of crystals 
vary infinitely. There are crystals too small to be 
recognized except under a miscroscope; and there 
is one at Milan weighing nearly nine hundred 
pounds. The White Mountains Of New Hamp¬ 
shire are a vast aggregation of crystals. The 
Mammoth Cave in Kentucky is an enormous 
museum of crystals. As yet, however, with all our 
knowledge, we are comparatively ignorant of the 
laws of crystallization. Under them, we see atom 
arrange itself by atom, in mystic, myriad forms; 
we discover, also, that not only magnetism, but 
light and heat, exercise an influence in crystalli¬ 
zation; but there our information substantially 
stops. The science of crystallization is almost a 
sealed book. Its mightiest curiosities still lie, 
like the virgin islands of the Pacific before the 
days of Cook, awaiting the skill and perseverance 
of some fortunate explorer.— Dollar Newspaper. 
A WORD OR TWO ABOUT LIGHTNING. 
What is the cause of lightning? Lightning is 
the result of electrical discharges from the clouds. 
What is thunder? Thunder is the noise which 
succeeds the rush of the electrical fluid through 
the air. 
When does lightning occur? When clouds, charg¬ 
ed with the opposite electricities approach, the 
forces rush to each other, and combine in a state 
of equilibrium. 
Why does lightning attend this movement of the 
forces of electricity? Because the atmosphere, 
being unable to convey the great changes of elec¬ 
tricity as they rush towards each other, acts as an 
insulator, and the lightning is caused by the vio¬ 
lence of the electricity in forcing its passage.— 
When the conducting power is equal to the force 
of the electricity it passes invisibly, noiseless and 
harmlessly whenever it finds a sufficient source of 
conduction. 
Why does lightning sometimes appear forked? 
Because, being resisted in its progress by the air, 
the electricity divides into two or more points, flics 
from point to point, and seeks a passage in differ¬ 
ent directions. 
Does lightning ever pass upward from the earth 
to the clouds? Yes, when the earth is charged 
with a different electricity to that which is in the 
clouds. 
Why is it dangerous to stand near a tree during 
an electric storm? Because the tree is a better 
eonductor than air, and electricity would proba¬ 
bly strike the tree, and pass to the person standing 
near. 
Why is it dangerous to sit near a fire-place?— 
Because the chimney, being a tall object, and the 
smoke a good conductor, would probably attract 
the electricity and convey it to the body of a person 
sitting near the fire. 
Why it is dangerous to be near water during a 
thunder storm? Because water is a good conduc¬ 
tor, and the vapor arising from it might attract the 
electritity. 
Are iron houses dangerous? No; they are very 
safe, because their entire surface is a good conduc¬ 
tor, and would convey the electricity harmlessly 
to the earth. 
Are iron bedsteads dangerous? No; they are 
safe, because the iron frame, completely surround¬ 
ing the body, and having a great capacity for con¬ 
duction, would keep electricity away from the 
body. 
Why is it safe to be iu bed during a thunder 
storm? Because feathers, hair, wool, cotton, &c., 
especially when dry, are good insulators or non¬ 
conductors. 
What is the safest situation to be in daring a 
storm? In the centre of a room, isolated as far 
as possible from surrounding objects; sitting on a 
chair and avoiding handling any of the conduct¬ 
ing substances. The windows and doors should be 
closed to prevent drafts of air. 
In the open air, what is the safest situation? To 
keep aloof as far as possible from elevated struc¬ 
tures; regard the rain as a protection against the 
lightning stroke, for wet clothes would Bupply so 
good a conductor, that a large amount of electri¬ 
city would pasB over a man’s body, through wet 
clothes, and he would be quite unconscious of it. 
— Selected. 
POWER OF SEA BREAKERS. 
From experiments which were made some time 
sinoe, at the Bell Rock and Skerry vore lighthouses, 
on the coast of Scotland, it was found that while 
the force of the breakers on the side of the Ger¬ 
man Ocean may be taken at about a tun and a half 
upon every square footof surface exposed to them, 
the Atlantic breakers fall with double that weight, 
or three tuns to the square foot; and thus a surface 
of only two square yards sustain a blow from a 
heavy Atlantic breaker equal to about 54 tuns. In 
November, 1824, a heavy gale blew, and blocks of 
limestone and granite, from two to five tuns in 
weight, were washed about like pebbles, at the 
Plymouth breakwater. About 300 tuns of such 
blocks were borne a distance of 200 feet, and up 
the inclined plane of the breakwater, carried over 
it, and scattered in various directions. A block of 
limestone, seven tuns in weight, was in one place 
washed a distance of 150 feet. Blocks of three 
tuns weight were torn away by a single blow of a 
breaker, and hurled over into the harbor; and one 
of nearly two tuns, strongly trenailed down upon 
a jetty, was torn away and tossed upwards by an 
overpowering breaker .—Scientific American. 
That is respectable which is honest and sen¬ 
sible. 
A fool will tread upon thy neck, if he seeth 
thee in the dust.— Tapper. 
THE AMERICAN BLUE JAY. 
As many of our young readers take an interest 
in the birds, we purpose to give, from time to time, 
illustrations and descriptions both of those to bo 
found in our own land and the denizens of foreign 
climes. We hope thus to gratify the tastes of such 
of our young friends as love the feathered race, and 
to awaken kindly feelings in the hearts of those 
who now delight to seek out and destroy them. 
The American Blue jlay (Corvus Cristatus, of 
Lin.) is peculiar to North America, and is distin¬ 
guished as a kind of beau among the feathered 
tenants of our woods. Ills dress is very brilliant, 
and, like other coxcombs, he makes himself con¬ 
spicuous by incessant gabbling, and the great 
amount of importance he assumes. Iu spring, 
when every thicket is pouring forth harmony, the 
notes of the jay cannot fail reaching the ear. Ho 
is, among his fellow-musicians, what the trumpeter 
is in a band, and some of his tones bear quite a 
resemblance to that instrument These he can 
change through a great variety of modulations.— 
When disposed to ridicule, there is scarcely a bird 
whose peculiarities of song he cannot turn his 
music to. When engaged in the blandishments of 
love, they resemble the soft chatterings of a duck, 
and can scarcely be heard at a few paces distant; 
but when he discovers the approach of an enemy 
he sets up a sudden and vehement cry, flying off 
and screaming with all his might. 
The jay builds his nest on a cedar or apple tree. 
His favorite food is chestnuts, acorns and Indian 
corn. Bugs, caterpillars, and the products of the 
orchard come not amiss to his stomach. He 
spreads alarm and sorrow around him by robbing 
the nests of other birds, sucking the eggs, and fre¬ 
quently devouring the young. When pressed by 
hunger ho will eat any animal food that comes in 
his way. He is bold, and will, with his fellows, give 
battle to the sparrow-hawk, and he is a most bitter 
enemy of the owl, forcing the latter to seek safety 
in flight 
This bird is about eleven inches in length — his 
head is ornamented with a crest of light blue or 
purple feathers, which he can elevate or depress at 
pleasure. Whole upper part light blue or purple— 
a collar of black passes down each side of the 
neck, and forms a crescent on the upper part of the 
breast The under parts are white. The tail is 
long, light blue, and tipped with black. 
THE OPINIONS OF A MICHIGAN GIRL. 
Messrs. Eds.: —I am an interested reader of the 
Rural. I pluck it fresh from the office once a 
week; tear off the wrapper, and take the first peep 
at its neat pages. The way I happen to be thus 
highly favored with the first reading is this. Father 
generally tells me—“ I will do the churning if you 
will go down to the office and get the Rural.”— 
By the time I get back, (which is not “ over and 
above” quick,) I find the butter “all come” and 
father with his spec’s on ready for the Rural.— 
He goes to reading and I go to drinking buttermilk. 
I keep an eye out over the edge of the bowl, and 
if I see him drop the paper to wait on mother, I 
catch it up instanter and have another feast. I 
hardly know which I like better—the Rural, or 
good, new buttermilk — I am passionately fond of 
both. The Rural I always find to be 
“ Richly set with pearls.” 
Its articles are all choice ones and clothed in beau¬ 
tiful language, such that the “ wayfaring man can” 
understand. In every number I find articles which 
to me look very much like “apples of gold in 
baskets of silver.” 
Just let me mention a few examples in the Ru¬ 
ral of July 10th —“ By-gone Memories”—“ The 
Army of Buckets”—“Good Night”—“The Ten¬ 
dency of Industry” — “Correct Speaking,” the 
last of which I found “ stowed away” in one cor¬ 
ner by itself, as unassuming as could be. I want 
the young men and young women to get the pa¬ 
per and read that piece again, then practice its 
teachings. 
The stories in the Rural, I think, are very pret¬ 
ty. As far as matter and manner are concerned the 
Rural cannot be beat Another good quality of 
the paper is in the stationery, and is appreciated by 
all who have babies to hold (as many do have, this 
way.) These dimpled-cheek, plump-armed little 
fellows are hard on newspapers, unless the paper 
is stiff enough in the back to stand alone, when 
held by the corner. Newspaper reading and baby 
holding are generally “ incompatible;" but in the 
case of the Rural they are perfectly easy. 
Loomisville, Mich., 1858. II. W. 
A WORD TO CLERKS. 
Eds. Rural: —Your paper finds its way to our 
home, every Thursday. I like it very much; so 
much that 1 think I could hardly do without it. I 
am glad to see so many “Young Ruralists” writing 
for your paper. Yet I don’t see as many pieces 
from “ clerks ” as. I wish there were. Clerks, stir 
up! give us a piece, if it is not as well composed 
as you wish it was. Try your luck once. In next 
week’s paper let us see “our column” half or more 
with letters from clerks. Come wake up! 
Monroe Co., N. Y., 1858. Clerk. 
