OCT. 16. 
MOOKFS RUBAI NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
337 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
READING-BOOKS AND NEWSPAPERS. 
Books have long been the companions and 
friends of men. In the days when they were rarer 
than now, and better, taken as they come, with how 
warm affection and honest reverence did those re¬ 
markable men, whom we look upon as the literary 
landmarks of their times, cherish a copy of some 
old Greek or Roman author, or the work of some 
great pioneer in English literature. They read 
and re-read a favorite writer—they studied his 
style as well as his meaning—they quoted him— 
and gratefully acknowledged him as the sharpener 
of their wit, the refiner of their taste, and the in- 
spirer of noble sentiments. But times are changed. 
Now-a-days there are many book writers, and each 
seems to think it his duty to write many books — 
Readers are many, and they mast read many books. 
There are few readers of the stamp of Demos¬ 
thenes —who copied a history six times for his 
own intellectual improvement—but many, that, on 
finishing a book, exclaim with the tired foot- 
traveler passing a milestone, “ Well, I’ve got past 
that” One reading is as much as men generally 
give a book, for there are other and perhaps rich¬ 
er mines to explore. 
But a new element—the periodical, the news¬ 
paper— has meanwhile been growing up. Un¬ 
trammeled with the dignity and formality requisite 
in a book, it is better fitted for particular ends.— 
Like a company of French riflemen, it does quick 
8nd “brilliant execution;” while a book, like 
English rank and file, performs the slow and heavy 
work. Periodicals always find work to do. Whether 
employed, as in the last century, in refining the 
popular t8ste, satirizing manners and fashions, 
setting up and pulling down rulers, furnishing fun- 
loving clubs with a daily dish of the latest jests 
and fancies, to relish with their coffee and punch; 
or applied to every possible use, as in our day, they 
display an eminent degree of practical skill and 
power. Newspapers are now, to the mass of the 
people, almost what the blood is to the body—the 
great carriers of aliment and agents of growth — 
They are the dispensers of the political, scientific, 
and, to a great extent, the religious opinions and 
faiths of multitudes. They almost monopolize the 
reading of the present day. 
We have thus carefully noticed these three kinds 
of reading and readers, because they really exist, 
though more or less blended together. Each has 
its advantages and its defects. The third class, or 
newspapers, is our subject, and the other classes 
may give us hints of the value of good reading, 
and the way to secure the full benefits of newspa¬ 
pers. One paper is devoted to politics, another to 
religion. The principles and endless discussions 
of each subject demand full possession of one pa¬ 
per. But we hail as noblest and best the journal 
that, removed from sectional and partisan strife, is. 
with a quiet earnestness, seeking through its influ¬ 
ence in the family circle to bless mankind. To 
such a paper our remarks will especially apply. 
A newspaper is a reservoir of the observations 
and experiences of many men. To its agricultural 
department, the farmer goes to know how and what 
other farmers think and do. This knowledge is 
an addition of capital in his business. In company 
with the treasured truths of other departments it 
banishes his narrow and one-sided views—intro¬ 
duces a generous liberality—leads his thoughts 
from particulars to generals, from facts to princi¬ 
ples, from himself to the great family—teaches 
him that his farm is not the globe, that its soil and 
its products, and its treatment are not identical 
with those of all the world, and that the price he 
gets for his wheat does not take precedence of all 
other human interests—in short, it makes a thinker 
of him, without being which he can be neither a 
farmer, nor anything else. But in the family the 
newspaper holds a sacred office. It enters its 
sacred precincts as the nurse of thought—as the 
guide to experience—as a fireside companion who 
appears sometimes in the garb of a venerable sage 
to counsel, or traveler to narrate—sometimes as a 
man of delicate fancy and delicious humor, mov¬ 
ing to laughter, and melting to tears, winning the 
tediousness from the hours, and making the heart 
lighter and better; and sometimes as a grave 
teacher, to uproot “vain hopes, inordinate de¬ 
sires,” and implant right views of life. A good 
family newspaper, as an educator of children, is 
valuable beyond price. 
“Experience contradicts that assertion,” says 
one,—“we don’t witness such results. Besides, 
newspapers are—by nature—liable to be incorrect, 
and are—by practice—abominally so. Children 
read in them about sea-serpents, quack cures, and 
other marvels, and swallow them whole. If they 
ever look at the sensible portions, they only skim 
them, and what they get ‘ stays like water in a 
sieve.’ ” We reply that this depends upon circum¬ 
stances. Many travelers journey to little advan¬ 
tage, and very many “ take the papers” to no pur¬ 
pose, but yet this does not justify Dr. Johnson’s 
assertion that “ traveling is a dissipation of the 
mind,” nor the drawing of the same general prin¬ 
ciple concerning newspaper reading. 
How, then, are the benefits of a newspaper to be 
secured to children, or to grown people? Simply, 
entirely, through the heads of the family—the 
parents. This is an age of great contracts and 
wholesale business, but most people have yet to 
learn that they cannot contract and hand over the 
education of their offspring to preachers, school¬ 
masters and editors. They will find that sermons, 
books and newspapers do little good of themselves. 
School-books, with an ingenious Yankee school¬ 
master to explain and make them interesting, may 
sometimes make great men of bright lads—and no 
thanks to parents; but sermons never referred to, 
and newspapers never talked about, will not fulfill 
their intended mission. Such neglect of encour¬ 
agement is the bushel that covers the light and 
smothers the genius of very many bright young 
minds. A child, whose parents have carefully 
taught him to walk, and talk, and then left him, 
will seldom get further than to walk and run well, 
and talk and reason badly. Father, if you would 
have your son a manly, intelligent farmer, an honor 
to his vocation and to yourself—if you would have 
your daughter intellectual and refined, accom¬ 
plished, both in manners and in housewifery—if 
you would triple your own mind’s growth and 
stock, and quadruple your happiness, then, use 
your Rural as some of those noble old Puritan 
fathers used their catechism, gather boys and girls 
in a circle daily, question them, discuss with them, 
laugh with them over whims, which all corres¬ 
pondents, even of this paper are not free from, and 
send them away to think, and look about, and see 
“ whether those things be so.” Drawde. 
THE SCHOOL-MASTER—HIS FUTURE. 
Wb look forward with hopes to the time when 
teaching will a distinct professon, requiring the 
same course of studious preparation os law or 
medicine. The importance of the teacher’s labors 
can not be exaggerated. He wields the future 
success and character of the man. The work 
which others perform may be seen and calculated, 
but who can reach so far, even in imagination, as 
to touch the completion of that structure which 
has its foundation in the mind of the child? It 
was the first impulse which gave motion and shape 
and direction to the universe, and sent the earth 
and stars to wheel uninjured through their orbits 
in eternal Bpace. It is the first influence—in the 
beginning it may be only a grain of sand hidden 
in the bosom of the earth, which imparts strength 
and beauty to the hundred years of oak, or fore¬ 
dooms it to a distorted and feeble maturity. It is 
the first impulse, likewise, which shapes and sen¬ 
tences the ever-during mind. “I hold that every 
man is a debtor to his profession,” said Webster; 
and surely no one has so much power to dignify 
his office as the teacher. If the next century wit¬ 
nesses as vast achievements in the arts of impart¬ 
ing knowledge as the last has—if text-books, the 
railways and telegraphs of mental communication 
and wealth, go on improving and extending, per¬ 
haps, the same amount of knowledge may be ac¬ 
cessible in weeks which it now requires months of 
labor to attain. This promise for the future rests 
with the teacher. Whatever is to be the hereafter 
of our country, whatever the calamities which 
party warfare may engender, we can not fail to be 
secure in the homes of our principles and liberty, 
so long as the common school, the peaceful glory 
of New England, is perpetuated, and the work of 
the school-master is honorable and honored.— N. 
A. Reuriew. 
Neatness.—A filthy school-house is an abomi 
nation. And yet who does not know that one of 
the hardest duties of the teacher is to keep the 
school house and its furniture perfectly neat and 
clean? Boys will bring in so much dirt on their 
feet, and then both boys and girls will find it so 
convenient to scatter so many bits of paper, and 
now and then one will want to spit upon the floor, 
that it seems almost as great a task to keep the 
house clean, as it was for Hercules to cleanse the 
Augean Stables. And yet a good school can never 
be kept in any other than in a neat and well order¬ 
ed school room. Let the teacher, and scholars, the 
committee, and visitors, all look to this one matter, 
and in a little time the whole aspect of the room 
will change; and with this change will come a 
change almost of the hearts of the pupils. Clean¬ 
liness will make them alive to beauty, and to duty 
too.— It, I. Schoolmaster. 
Labor was the son of Necessity, the nursling of 
Hope, and the pupil of Art; ho had the strength 
of his mother, the spirit of his nurse, and the dex¬ 
terity of his governess, and came down upon earth 
to oppose the devastations of famine. 
CONNECTICUT RAMBLES. 
The Home of the Yankees — Hong Island Sound — Con¬ 
necticut River—Saybrook —New London Whale Fishe¬ 
ries—Fort Trumbull-‘'Uncle Sam's” Housekeepers — 
Groton—Fort Griswold—Massacre in 1781 by Benedict 
Arnold—Groton Monument — The Atlantic Telegraph, 
(fC., ffC. 
Eds. Rural : — Nearly every week your many 
readers at the East are favored with the privilege 
of perusing interesting letters from your Western 
correspondents, describing not only how they carry 
on farming, but also picturing to us the fine scenery 
presented in various places. Maybe, in turn, our 
Western friends would like to hear from the East— 
the home of the Yankees, of clocks, and (as some 
say) wooden nutmegs. You will see that your 
humble correspondent hails, for the present, from 
Clinton. Your home — the Empire State — has a 
Clinton, besides there are some fifty other towns of 
that name in different parts of the States,— all 
named, I suppose, in honor of him, who, though not 
the projector, was the promoter of the canal sys¬ 
tem in New York, and to whose enterprise and 
perseverance is doubtless owing the fact—the great 
work of uniting the Hudson with the giant lakes of 
the West, and upon whose muddy waters the ex¬ 
periment i3 now being made of propelling canal 
boats by steam. But I am digressing. I spoke of 
the little town of Clinton, from which I hail. ’Tis 
a quiet little village nicely located on Long Island 
Sound, and in my next I will, if you wish, give you 
a sketch of it— its soil, people and productions_ 
and the manner in which farming in its several 
branches is carried on. This time I propose giving 
a brief sketch of places visited yesterday, and of 
which I presume little is known to my Western 
friends. 
Being weary of school duties, and feeling need 
of recreation, I yesterday gave my pupils their 
freedom and took the morning train on the New 
Haven and New London Railroad for New London, 
to visit, more particularly, places of historical inter¬ 
est. The distance from Clinton is 27 miles. The 
route lies along the Sound shore, and nearly the 
entire distance the Sound is visible, affording 
pleasant views to passengers—diminishing in no 
slight degree the monotony of riding on the cars. 
The first town of any importance after leaving 
Clinton is Saybrook, located near the mouth of the 
Connecticut, flowing into the Sound at that place. 
It is the largest river in our State, and from it, the 
State takes its name. The Indian name for the 
river is Qaon-eh-ta-cut—meaning the “long river,” 
or, as some render it, “the river without end.”— 
Saybrook is one of the oldest towns in the State, 
and in its early days the colonists were much an- 
About two hundred years before the birth of 
Christ, Chi-hoang-ti, the “Great Warrior,” came 
to the throne of China. The internal peace of the 
country was, at the time, and for three hundred 
years previous, incessantly disturbed by the wars 
and the quarrels of the petty Kings. Chi-hoang 
ti determined to put an end to this by uniting all 
the small kingdoms into one monarchy, of which 
he intended to be the sole and absolute sovereign. 
There was no difficulty in finding pretexts for in¬ 
vading the several States of the tributary Kings, as 
scarcely a year passed but one or other of them 
rebelled against his authority. By degrees, how¬ 
ever, he conquered them all, and after some years 
of civil warfare, became master of the whole Em¬ 
pire. When he had subdued all the petty provin¬ 
ces, he next turned his arms against the Tartars, 
who had become very troublesome neighbors.— 
They were a much more warlike people than the 
Chinese, and were enemies very greatly dreaded. 
The Emperor, therefore, devised a plan to keep off 
their invasions, by erecting a wall along the whole 
extent of the northern frontier, of such a height, 
thickness, and solidity as to be proof against any 
attempts which might be made either to scale or 
to effect a breach in it. To the completion of this 
great undertaking, means cruel and arbitrary in 
the extreme were called into use, and thousands 
of lives sacrificed. In order to obtain a sufficient 
number of workmen for so vast an enterprise, 
the Emperor ordered that every third laboring man 
throughout the Empire should be compelled to 
enter his service; and they were forced to labor 
like slaves, without receiving any compensation 
beyond a bare supply of food. 
The Great Wall extended fifteen hundred miles, 
from the sea to the most western province of Shen¬ 
si. It was carried over the highest mountains, 
through the deepest valleys, and by means of 
arches across the rivers. Its breadth was suffi¬ 
cient to allow of six horsemen riding abreast on 
its summit, and it was fortified by strong towers, 
noyed by Indians. In the year 1635 a fort was 
built at the mouth of the river, and in March, 1637, 
the commander of the fort, with twelve men, was 
attacked by a body of Pequots and three of the 
number killed. Baybrook is distinguished as being 
the seat of Yale College. But I must not detain 
you here too long. 
We have crossed the river on the ferry boat, and 
taking the cars on the opposite side, are soon whirl¬ 
ing along fast as steam will take us. Passing 
through a section of country interspersed with hill 
and dale, at 10 A. M., I found myself in New Lon¬ 
don,— a city of New London county,— situated on 
the west bank of the Thames river, 50 miles from 
New Haven, and three miles from the ocean. Its 
harbor is one of the best in the United States — 
being three miles long, capacious, deep and not 
liable to be frozen over. The city is built on a de¬ 
clivity facing the South and East Granite rocks 
protrude from the surface in many places, making 
it somewhat difficult to lay out the city with very 
great regularity, though within a few years past the 
enterprise of the citizens has done much to over¬ 
come the irregularities of the surface. A great 
portion of the wealth of New London consists in 
its whale fisheries, which employ some 1,500 men 
and a large amount of capital. The receipts from the 
whale fishery in 1853 amounted to $1,349,872. The 
amount of shipping employed in the same was 
15,960 tuns. Population of the city about 12,000. 
At the mouth of the river stands Fort Trumbull._ 
This is a strong granite fort, having for its founda¬ 
tion granite rock. ’Tis well worth a trip across 
our State; aye, further, to visit this structure. As 
“ Uncle Sam” is at peace with all the world, and 
“the rest of mankind,” there are no troops station¬ 
ed here, but within, and on the outer walls, are 
some fifty cannon mounted, and so placed as to rake 
an enemy’s ship fore and aft, sending death and 
destruction into the ranks of any so venturesome 
as to come within their reach. The “Red Coats” 
would find it more difficult to take that Fort now, 
than wheD, in 1781, they simply found a breast¬ 
work, or water battery, open from behind, and 
defended by 23 men. The Fort is in charge of a 
Sergeant whose duty it is to see that things are 
kept in order, and everything bears testimony to 
the fact that this duty is discharged, for no parlor 
can outshine the neatness and order of things in 
and about the fort, and no young readers of the 
Rural of either sex need ever complain if they can 
succeed in securing for a companion one who 
keeps things as neat within and without as that 
noted old Bach, “Uncle Sam,’’ has his house¬ 
keepers do. 
Crossing the Thames, (which is here half a mile 
in width,) I find myself in Groton, a town opposite 
New London, and containing about 3,700 inhabi¬ 
tants. Historical incidents connected with this 
town render it peculiarly interesting. The village 
is built on the side of the hill facing the river. In 
the early settlement of the country it was the home 
of the Pequots—a tribe of Indians who were very 
unfriendly to the whites, frequently annoying 
them, killing and taking captive many of the inhabi¬ 
tants of the surrounding country. Here, too, on 
Groton Heights, are the ruins of Fort Griswold, of 
Revolutionary fame, which was so bravely defended 
Sept. Cth, 1781, by a garrison of 160 Americans, 
against 800 Bridsh, commanded by the traitor, 
Benedict Arnold. Bravely did the Americans 
struggle against such fearful odds—never wa 3 a 
built at equal distances of about one hundred 
yards, in which guards were stationed. The ex¬ 
terior was formed of stone and brick work of the 
most, solid construction, which was filled in with 
earth, so as to render it impenetrable; and the 
whole was finished in the Bhort period of five 
years. 
CHINESE HUSBANDMAN IN 8UMMER DRESS. 
In connection with the history of this gigantic 
undertaking we present Rural readers with a por¬ 
trait of an ancient Chinese Husbandman in sum¬ 
mer costume. 
The Chinese undoubtedly acquired the arts of 
civilization at an early period. Husbandry and 
silk-weaving were amoDg the earliest of these.— 
Agriculture always was, and still is, held in high 
estimation by the Chinese. They commence the 
agricultural year with a grand festival in honor of 
Spring; on which occasion the Emperor, in imita¬ 
tion of his ancient predecessors, performs the ope¬ 
ration of plowing and sowing seed in a field set 
apart for the purpose. 
fort more bravely defended, nor a garrison more 
barbarously butchered. They fought with all kinds 
of weapons, and many of the enemy were killed 
under the walls simply by throwing shot over upon 
them; but, overpowered by numbers, they were 
obliged to surrender, when followed a scene of 
cold-blooded butchery, such as, probably, had no 
parallel in any other battle of the Revolution. No 
sooner were the British within the fort than they 
began butchering the defenceless ones, till 120 
were weltering in their heart’s blood,—85 were 
killed, 35 mortally and dangerously wounded, and 
40 taken prisoners to New York. I wandered all 
aboutthe ruins—passed through the old gate-way— 
along the bastions now crumbling to ruins— 
through the narrow passage-way (under ground) 
that led from the fort to the hospital—and my mind 
was busy reviewing scenes that had transpired 
there. On the hill, a few rods north of the fort, 
stands a monument of granite erected to the mem¬ 
ory of those who fell in that battle. It is 26 feet 
square at the base, 12 feet square at the top, and 
has 168 steps, being 127 feet high. A marble slab 
on the west side bears the following inscription:— 
“This monument was erected under the patronage 
of the State of Connecticut, A. D., 1830, and in the 
55th year of the Independence of the U. S. A., in 
memory of the patriots who fell in the massacre at 
Fort Griswold, near this spot, on the 6th of Sep¬ 
tember, A. D., 1781, when the British, under com¬ 
mand of the traitor, Benedict Arnold, burnt the 
towns of New London and GrotoD, and spread des¬ 
olation and woe throughout this region.” 
I ascended to the top of the monument, from 
which a fine view of the city and surrounding 
country can be had. While standing there I was 
almost deafened by the ringing of bells, and dis¬ 
charge of cannon in commemoration of the suc¬ 
cessful laying of the Atlantic Telegraph. Striking 
contrast! thought I. Now the hills are echoing 
with the cannon’s roar in view of the recent union 
of England and America, while 77 years ago, the 
same hills echoed with, not only the cannon’s roar, 
but also with the shrieks of dying victims of Eng¬ 
land’s cruelty and oppression. Oh, that this last, 
this great achievement of the age, may hasten on 
the time when wars and rumors of wars shall 
cease from off the face of the whole earth, and 
peace and prosperity reign throughout all its bor¬ 
ders; then may we say from the heart,—“ Glory to 
God in the highest — on earth peace, good will to¬ 
ward men.” e. l. j. 
Water. — Potatoes contain 75 per cent (by 
weight,) and turnips no less than 90 per cent of 
water. A beefsteak, though pressed between blot¬ 
ting paper, yields nearly four-fifths of its weight of 
water. Of the human frame, bones included, only 
about one-fourth is solid matter (chiefly carbon 
and nitrogen,) the rest is water. If a man weigh¬ 
ing 140 pounds was squeezed flat under a hydraulic 
press, 105 pounds of water would run out, and only 
35 pounds of dry residue remain. A man is, there¬ 
fore, chemically speaking, 45 pounds of carbon and 
nitrogen diffused through six buckets of water.— 
Berzelius, indeed, in recording the fact, justly re¬ 
marks that the “living organism is to be regarded 
as a mass diffused in water;” and DaltoD, by a series 
of experiments tried on his own persoD, found that 
of the food with which we daily repair this 
water-built fabric, five-sixths are also water.— 
Scientific American. 
THE LAW AND THE FARM. 
Messrs. Eds.:—I have been much amused at the 
correspondence of Harry Harris and “Junius” 
in the Rural, and thought if I would not be put¬ 
ting valuable ground to an unprofitable use, I 
would like to drop a word or two between these 
fierce combatants. My sympathies were elicited 
very strongly in behalf of Harry, for, poor fellow, 
instead of fighting “ a flock of sheep” a la Don 
Quixote, (which would certainly be little enough 
honor to him,) he has aroused only one. 
I am willing to concede the main argument of 
Junius, and so I presume will all who have read 
his communication, and that, as I understand it, is 
that he has not only read Don Quixote, Lord By¬ 
ron, Mr. Blair, and something about Rich’dCckur 
de Lion, but has also dipped his literary fingers 
into the Latin puddle. Now, if we may argue from 
effect to cause, and then apply the ancient proverb 
“ ex nihil, nihil Jit,'' (I presume I shall be excused if 
I use the language so familiar to our friend,) we 
can come to a very clear estimate of the calibre of 
the “ representative” gun “ of the Rural Districts.” 
Now, Messrs. Editors, I have quite a liking for 
the profession of the law, and may, at some future 
time, make it my business, and if I do so, it will 
not be because I consider manual labor upon a 
farm as beneath my dignity, nor on account of any 
“natural repugnance,” but because my taste is 
stronger for a professional life than for that of a 
farmer. I have ever believed that the farmer’s life 
was one of the most healthy, independent, and en¬ 
nobling occupations in the world, but I believe, by 
a doubtlessly wise dispensation of Providence, we 
have been created with different tastes and pro¬ 
clivities, and much of our success in life depends 
upon our adaptation to our business. If we engage 
in an occupation for which, either by ability or 
taste, we are not adapted, we are continually labor¬ 
ing at a disadvantage. 
But I do not agree with the seemingly unprinci¬ 
pled remark of Harry in reference to the disre¬ 
gard of truth requisite to be an Attorney. If I ever 
enroll under the banner of the law, it will be with 
a firm determination to strictly adhere to the truth, 
and if I find I cannot succeed in that profession 
without a sacrifice of my principles, I shall, most 
assuredly, abandon it. Brutus. 
Grand River Valley, Mich., 1858. 
“ CONSTITUTIONAL WEARINESS.” 
Eds. Rural: —I wish to impart the knowledge 
possessed by me in regard to the above disease, 
Harry Harris having desired information on the 
subject. It is not a hereditary disease, as stated 
by Harry, as we rarely can trace its symptoms to 
our parents or to our ancestors; therefore, we can¬ 
not be said to inherit it, and it is not a hereditary 
disease. As to the origin of the malady there is 
nothing very definite, although it has been known 
to exist in almost every part of the world, for many 
centuries back. It consists in having settled in 
one’s constitution a natural weariness or tired dis¬ 
position, which one is not able to account for, nor 
is it easily overcome. Those affected with it, shirk 
a great deal of labor, by whining forth the cry, “ I 
am so tired.” It would seem that to those willing to 
burden themselves with the distemper, it serves a 
very good purpose, that of avoiding labor. It af¬ 
fects lazy farmer’s boys, when they make up their 
minds to go to the city, and renounce the farm and 
all kinds of work. But, thrown upon their own 
resources, it proves a very unvaluable companion. 
If not possessed of otherwise bright talents or in¬ 
come, it will hurry them to a pauper’s grave. There 
are, alas! too many that throw that disease upon 
themselves in their youth, but in maturity they find 
to their sorrow that they were deluded into a false 
step. In their advanced days, it has worn into 
their very vitals, then nothing can root it out; and 
they are allowed to drag out their miserable exist¬ 
ence without a pitying word. Such are the effects 
of the disease. I know of no better remedy, for 
the cure of the complaint, than to use one’s utmost 
endeavors on the appearance of the first symptoms 
to overcome it. It can be done then, and only then, 
by steady and unceasing attentions directed in the 
proper way. Dr. Quack. 
Monroe Co., N. Y., 1858. 
AUTUMN. 
Every season of the year has its charms, and 
brings its enjoyments and blessings. To some this 
is the most religious season. Nature speaks most 
impressively of the goodness of God. The air seems 
loaded with an influence that breath’s calm delight 
into the soul—the trees are rich in beauty—the 
day invites to healthful exercise, and the night is 
eloquent in praise of Him who made “the heavens 
and all their host” Who could contemplate the 
deep glory of such evenings as some which we 
have had the past month, and be unconscious of 
a religious sentiment? The sun in its rising is 
glorious, and in its going down—when it wraps 
itself in its mantle of crimson and gold—is yet 
more magnificent, but there is a majesty, a spiritu¬ 
ality, a power in the distant stars that surpasses the 
effects of the brighter luminary. We can imagine 
these celestial intelligences offering their silent 
worship to the Creator. How calm, how grand, 
how solemn, how holy! There is beauty every¬ 
where, wisdom everywhere, love everywhere, but 
in no other of the material works of God are his 
perfections so clearly revealed to us as in the gen¬ 
tle brightness of one of these starlight nights. It 
lifts us above the earth—takes us away from world¬ 
ly associations, and enkindles our desires after a 
better life. We feel ourselves to be created for 
something purer than this world, more enduring 
than this life. Mary E. N. 
Rural Dell, N. Y., 1858. 
pridb. 
No man should carry his head so high 
That he cannot downward cast his eye; 
For some misstep he may chance to make, 
And the haughty head, in falling, break. 
Ip you are disquieted at anything, you should 
consider with yourself, is the thing of that worth 
that I should so disturb myself, and lose my peace 
and tranquillity. 
