MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
Sketches from the Alps to the Adriatic. 
Wesskb. Eps.: — In the last Rural a Young 
Buralist of Madison Co., inquires how to break 
his yearling steers. Permit me to suggest, first, 
not quite so much timber in our “ox gads" as our 
fathers used, for lumber is becoming scarce, and 
brains are increasing, (scalps at least,) for which 
reason we had better use more of the latter and 
less of the former. 
Next, we deserve no sympathy when we split 
our thoata in trying to make our cattle hear, when 
nature gave ears quite,as acute, and nearly as long 
as our own. In other words let us retain our natu¬ 
ral voice and natural actions—that is, actions in 
harmony with that principal in nature which 
Christ taught—“overcome evil with good” — and 
the few who have experimented on this precept, 
have found it aa often verified when applied to 
four legB as two. 
Now, if the law of kindness will overcome evil, 
certainly no harsher agent is required to over¬ 
come ignorance, the only fault of the unbroken 
steer,—ignorant not of the act we wish him to per¬ 
form, for he can do that— hut, ignorant of onr i 
desire —and since we are as awkward in communi¬ 
cating onr will, as the Bteer in comprehending it, 
therefore, we merit as harsh a chastisement as we 
inflict on him. 
To illustrate my theory, I give my practice:—I 
raised a pair of Devon grade calves, which I fed, 
handled and made jmyself familiar with until one 
year old. By this time continued kindness had 
secured a sort of mutual confidence between all 
three of ns; they seeming to consider me as good 
a calf as any in the yard. I now considered their 
moral and social faculties in a healthy and thriv¬ 
ing condition, which should be the first step in the 
education of man or brute. 
As the mild weather of spring approached, bring¬ 
ing with it a corresponding mildness in the dispo¬ 
sition of cattle, manifested by their being more 
sociable in a yard, and not so given to hooking 
each other as in the more severe weather, I com¬ 
menced their education, one at a time, — short 
lessons, each once a day,— and was surprised at 
their rapid progress, never having driven oxen or 
broken steers before. I did not attempt to cram 
the whole alphabet down them at once, which I 
believe is too frequently practiced. For twenty 
successive times the child may attempt, to speak a 
hard word and fail every time,—when if you give 
him the elementary sounds composing the word, 
he will utter each distinctly,—then combine .them 
by adding one each time, and he can pronounce it 
with ease. Parents, try it. If yonr child says 
tkixpense, it, is because he don’t know where to 
place hia tongue to produce the sound of s, not 
because he cannot do it. Let him see how you do 
it, &c. On this principle my calves acquired great 
accomplishments, and graduated shortly after one 
year of age. 
When I had made myself intelligible to each I 
then let them recite in concert, changing sides 
and positions in all manner of ways I could think,— 
f in short, acting on the principle of the cautious old 
• lady, who said, “ Johnny, you must not go into the 
s water till after you have learned to swim.” They 
■ were thoroughly broken before being yoked, 
i If I want the steer to come to me, I tap, tap, tap 
i him, like the gentle rain drop, with my short lash 
i on the off or opposite side of the neck. At first he 
- cares nothing about it, till at last it becomes disa- 
- greeable to him, as the stroke from a straw on a 
man’s nose or arm would at length be unbearable. 
1 Well, he makes a move to avoid his uncomfortable 
t position, but naturally enough moves from me, 
knowing I am the cause, and my desire to the con- 
t trary being High Dutch to him. But the taps con- 
a tinue to fall just as fast as ever on just the same 
a spot, till by mere accident or experiment he turns 
e towards me. That instant the blows stop; so he at 
3 length finds that he must approach me to avoid the 
. disagreeable sensation on the off-side of the neck, 
t and must move to the right when on the left side; 
i but always strike on the same place to produce the 
,1 same result, and not touch him promiscuously or 
i- j ust where it happens to produce a motion forward, 
a backward, right or left Be sure yon always stop 
t whipping the instant lie begins to obey; this en- 
(. courages him. To make them hold up their heads 
J when yoked, tap them gently with the butt of the 
e whip on the top of the shoulder just back of the 
yoke. To make them back, strike them on their 
i- breast or throat, as it saves their eyes and a down¬ 
ward tendency of the head. 
To conclude, I took these steers to our County 
Fair at Watertown, in the fall, and although they 
had seen bat one winter, were kind as kittens and 
j. handy as oxen, and took the first premium. I sold 
>f them on the ground for one hundred and twenty- 
n five dollars, without the yoke, took the money and 
ie went home with a sad heart. Their weight was 
jf twenty-one hundred. Color deep red. j. d. 
,. Stowell’s Corners, Jeff. Co., N. Y., 1858. 
rows of mulberry and fruit trees, irom which hung 
festoons of grape vines. The marshes of Arcole,— 
where, in three days of desperate battle, Napoleon 
once destroyed an Austrian army—were passed, we 
went through th8 cities of Vicenza and Padua, 
end yet ran on over the level plains. Now and 
then a few tall Lombardy poplars rose upon the 
right or left, shot by, and sunk backward in the 
distance, and we passed low country houses, half 
hidden among foliage. The soil began to grow 
less fertile, and seemed full of water. I leaned 
out of the window and gazed forward to the edge 
of the horizon, where lay piles of picturesque 
thunder clouds, and wondered where the train 
would go, for, at a short distance, neither plain 
nor sea was visible. Suddenly I saw domes and 
towers, and tall masts with waving flags, rising 
like a vision between me and the clouds; their 
rich palaces and churches, sitting on the water, 
and hulls of ships, and innumerable gondolas, all 
floating, as it were, on the surface of the Lagoon. 
It was Venice. 
I had approached the fairy city of the earth—a 
city which once boasted to be mistress of the sea, 
and sent her ships over the blue waves of the 
Adriatic and the Mediterranean to the shores of 
the Turk and the Arab, to the Isles of Greece and 
the Holy Land — a city, founded on piles and 
stone, sunk in the mud of seventy-two small is¬ 
lands, where there are smooth canals and silent 
gondolas, instead of stony streets and noisy car¬ 
riages. 
The traveler formerly approached Venice in a 
gondola, but, at present, the Lagoon is traversed 
by a stone bridge, two miles and a quarter long, 
and supported on two hundred and twenty-two 
arches. The cars pause in the small station, and 
yon descend, not to a street, but to a canal, and 
enter a gondola. It is rowed to your hotel, and 
yon ascend from the boat by stone steps, that are 
constantly wet by the salt sea. You are struck 
with the stillness of the city. There is no noise 
bat the ham of the voices of men, for in all Venice 
there is not one carriage. 
At first you are disappointed with Venice. As 
you float along the Grand Canal in a gondola, yon 
look in vain for those gorgeous marble palaces, 
which, you imagined, rose up along the greathigh¬ 
way of the City of the Sea. You can scarcely 
believe the gondolier, when he points out baildings 
with which you are familiar by description, and 
which you had imagined were impressive as any 
in Europe. They are so small and so dilapidated, 
standing close to the water’s edge, with the salt 
sea washing their foundation stones, and seaweed 
clinging to their steps and walls, that it seems in 
the lapse of a little more time they will tnmble to 
final rnin and be swallowed by the waters. Yet 
when you look closer you see traces of former 
splendor, when they were the dwellings of mer¬ 
chant princes, who drew their wealth from the 
East, and boasted that their city was Mistress of 
the Sea. Groups of marble, windows that are 
miracles of Art in proportion and design, enriched 
by the most elaborate and thoughtful carving, are 
set in crumbling brick walls, from which the pre¬ 
cious marbles of the East, or frescoes designed by 
great masters, in which they were once encased, 
have fallen by slow decay, or been tom away by 
the unsparing hand of a conqueror. In these same 
walls modern windows, or rather square holes 
have been made, breaking all unity of design, and 
making the Art look as if it had been plundered 
from some demolished edifice, and set as a gem in 
a meaner building. Often in front of these win¬ 
dows are marble balconies, having railings of 
white marble, exquisitely carved and shaped, with 
figures of fat, good-natured looking puppies sit 
ting on the corners—a fantastic ornament, truly. 
These windows and balconies—which are unequal¬ 
ed by the finest Fifth Avenue house in New York 
—are scattered all over Venice, often being placed 
in buildings, which, whatever they might have 
been formerly, from decay and alteration, have 
other claims to architectural beauty. 
VIEW OF ST. JOHNS, NEWFOUNDLAND 
termed, to an elevation above the level of the 
water, of over six hundred feet. 
The city is built on the side of a hill, which 
ascends gradually to a height, of about, a hundred 
and fifty feet, and presents an exceedingly pictur¬ 
esque appearance. It overlooks the harbor, which 
is a little over a mile in length, and a quarter of a 
mile in width; and which is one of the best harbors 
in the world, affording at all times a safe anchor¬ 
age for ships of the largest dimensions. The first 
thing that strikes the visitor is its peculiar forma¬ 
tion. After you have passed the entrance, it has 
th8 appearance of a lake, so completely is it shut 
in from the ocean. Gigantic hills tower above 
you on every side, except, that on which the city 
stands, and on their rough and rugged declivities 
little patches of gardens have been made by the 
St. Johns, the capital of Newfoundland, is the 
most eastern seaport of North America. Being 
directly in the track of steamers plying between 
Great Britain and the United States, it is eminently 
adapted as a coal depot, or half-way house for 
these vessels. Tbe harbor is excellent, although 
narrow at the entrance; the channel, or “Nar¬ 
rows,” from point to point, being only 3G0 fathoms 
wide. The entrance to the harbor is so concealed 
from view at sea, that it is almost impossible to 
perceive it until after a very near approach. On 
the right rises Signal Hill, to a height of at least 
600 feet, overlooking the town, and commanding 
a fine view of the country, which extends behind 
it like a gigantic panorama. Opposite Signal Hill, 
on the other side of the Narrows, rises another 
hill, or mountain as it should more properly be 
are erected the stages, or “flakes,” as they are 
termed, on which the codfish are cured. 
A very extensive business is done in St Johns, 
it, being the chief commercial centre of the island. 
Large numbers of vessels are constantly in port 
discharging or taking in cargoes of fish or oil, and 
in the months of August or September some fifty 
to eighty Spanish vessels load with fish for the 
various ports in the Mediteranean. Seal oil usually 
finds its market in the various ports of Great 
Britain, while the codfish is sent to the West 
Indies, Spain, Naples, and Brazil. In 1850 the 
population of St. Johns amounted to 19,000; in 
1852, 21,000 (resident,) 6,000 fishermen. 
ceases. You observe the police walking about, for 
the crowd is thin, yet at eleven o’clock, and even 
an honr later, there will be many persons walking 
in the Square. The next morning you go to ob¬ 
serve the scene by daylight. It is far less brilliant. 
You are beset by half-a-dozen boot blacks, and to 
rid yourself of their annoyance let one earn a few 
coppers, by making your boots mirrors in which 
he sees his face. Most of the chairs which were 
occupied by hundreds of people on the previous 
evening, are now piled up in great heaps before 
the cajes. Yon enter a cafe, and read “Galiguard's 
Messenger ” over a cup of coffee, and are only dis¬ 
turbed by a flower girl, wearing a broad brimmed 
straw hat, underneath which are the masses of dark 
hair, and the sparkling eyes. She lays a sweet 
pink by your cup, and disappears without a word. 
Such is the scene which takes place every day 
in St Mark’s Square, only on Sunday evening’s the 
crowd is greater and military bands furnish music. 
The people promenade to and fro in regular order, 
and the scone bears much resemblance to r. great 
balL 0 . F. w. 
AUTHORS A3 CONVERSATIONISTS. 
Great writers are not necessarily great talkers. 
You hear that a man has written a popular book, 
and that you are to meet him at dinner. You hope 
that, your own inferiority in conversation will not 
be very apparent, and, to be on the sure side, 
resolve to play the part of listener. You meet the 
great man, and vainly expect wit or wisdom from 
his lips. He turns out to be a very ordinary mor¬ 
tal. Ho may be shy and silent, or garrulous and 
bold, but, he does not realize the expectations you 
had formed of him from his writings. A subject 
pie as they pass and repass. There is lively in¬ 
strumental music made by a company of young 
women and men in the Bquare, and perhaps it is 
accompanied by singing and declamation. Often 
there are two or three companies. Presently one 
of the prettiest girls in the company, well dressed 
and wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat—under¬ 
neath which you see masses of dark hair and a 
pair of sparkling, passionate eyes — approaches 
and pauses before you, silently extending a small 
plate. You add a copper to the pile already on it, 
and she tarns as silently to another group. She 
has but just gone when a little boy comes up with 
matches to sell He has some of an excellent 
quality for cigars. After they are once lit, no 
amount of wind can extinguish them, till they 
burn close to your fingers, when they go out of 
themselves, ne proves this by lighting some, and 
blowing vigorously on them, his cheeks puffed out 
by the wind, but the matches not. Of course you 
take some, for they are very convenient. You 
don’t exactly understand how much he demands, 
but, selecting a quantity from hia basket, you lay 
what appears to be a sufficient amount of money 
in the boy’s outstretched, open hand. He leans 
for ward in curious attitude, and his dark, piercing 
eyes glance scrntinizingly into your face and he 
demands more, and yet more, until you have 
doubled and quadrupled the first amount Then 
yon begin to think the valuable matches are get¬ 
ting rather too dear, and you offer to exchange, 
i The open palm closes quickly over the silver and 
the boy vanishes, chuckling over the amount that 
These are scarcely 
The fertility of the soil of Cuba is well known. 
The labor of cultivation is small and the profits 
well nigh fabulous. It is said that some planters, 
who have several estates, have an income of eight 
hundred thousand or a million of dollars annually. 
On new ground, sugar, which in Louisiana re¬ 
quires to be planted once in three years, will pro¬ 
duce its annual crop for nine or ten years, so that 
the planter has nothing to do but reap the harvest 
every year. But, notwithstanding these extraordi¬ 
nary inducements to cultivate the soil, by far the 
larger portion of the island is yet a wilderness. A 
published statement gives only one-twentieth part 
of it as under cultivation. Some part of the resi¬ 
due is mountainous and untillable, but a very con¬ 
siderable portion is as fertile as that which yields 
so enormous a revenue. 
In addition to the sources of agricultural wealth, 
there are rich copper and coal mines, and the for¬ 
ests abound with mahogany, cedar, and other 
choice woods. There are some serious drawbacks 
to a residence on the island, however, the princi¬ 
pal of which are the enervating climate and yel¬ 
low fever. A minor but by no means despicable 
evil is the mosquitoes, whose sting is very poison¬ 
ous to strangers, producing a high degree of in¬ 
flammation. The hands, wrists and ankles swell 
up and suppurate, making great sores, which leave 
pits almost as deep as those of the small pox, and 
much larger. After a residence of two years, 
however, the sting is scarcely felt, and the poison 
produces little or no effect. This has been ac¬ 
counted for by the idea that the enervating cli¬ 
mate renders the blood so thin and poor that it is 
no longer capable of the same degree of inflam¬ 
mation. 
is six times his regular price, 
in your pocket before a man brings you a large 
basket, heaped with all kinds of fruit, which has 
been stuck on to small, sharp sticks, and dipped 
into melted sugar. It is novel and cheap, only a 
piece of copper for each stick, and yon take some 
from every variety for the sake of trying the qual¬ 
ity. You are a good customer, which is observed, 
and, as soon a 3 the man takes his basket of fruit 
off your table, another seta in its place one filled 
with curious glassware, beads, bracelets, caskets 
gondolas, &c., all delicately made and peculiar to 
Venice. Then follows a vender of Blippers, and 
after him comes a sailor-looking man, having a 
white, wooden box, with two small holes in the 
cover, and something black projecting through 
them. Tbe black thiogs have motion and you 
wonder what they are. The man takes off the 
cover, and displays two small, live turtles which 
move about very actively on the green leaves in 
the bottom, and you perceive that the black things 
above the cover, were the turtles’ heads. The ani¬ 
mals are perfectly harmless, as the man proves by 
holding them between his fingers, pressing them 
to his face, and placing them in his bo -om. They 
will live with little care, and would be novel me¬ 
mentos of Venice, but it is not convenient to take 
them, and with much difficulty you dismiss the 
turtle vender. His place is instantly filled by an¬ 
other who slily and quickly unfolds a packet, and 
exhibits a bunch of the best Havana cigars, which 
be offers to sell very cheap. They are first-rate, 
he says, the like of them caa’t be bought in Venice, 
andhe hints thathe imported them himself and can 
afford them so cheap, because he was not obliged 
to buy them the second time at the custom house. 
The cigar-man vanishes, and you begin to wonder 
what will come next. Your wonder does not last 
long, for the music girl, with the masses of dark 
hair, ard the sparkling, passionate eyes, under¬ 
neath the straw hat, i 8 before yon again silently 
extending the money plate. Your copper is all 
gone, and you put on a piece of silver. Ah! the 
sparkling eyes flash brighter, she makes a little 
bow and says, “grazie Signor ,” and moves with a 
more elastic step to another table. What a power 
there was in that Bilver piece to draw forth smiles 
and thanks. 
Yon rise now and promenade. It is growing 
late and the people begin to depart, and the music 
BUSINESS HABITS OF AARON BURR. 
now no 
Most of the buildings, indeed, have bad their 
frescoes obliterated by repainting, and the old and 
magnificent Venetian red is fast becoming daubed 
over with modern whitewash. 
The chief point of interest in Venice is the 
Square of St. Mark, in tbe vicinity of which are 
the finest specimens of architecture, as the Doge’s 
Palace—the Campanile, or bell-tower—the clock- 
tower, and the Cathedral of St. Mark. Tbe square 
contains over three acres of ground, and is beau¬ 
tifully paved with large flag stone3. The Campa¬ 
nile stands in the corner, and the clock tower on 
one side. There is a colonnade round three sides 
of the square, back of which are brilliant stores 
and cafes. Along the fourth side ef the Square, 
runs a street, and j ust across the street is the gor¬ 
geous front of the Cathedral To the light of the 
Cathedral is the Doge’s Palace. It is in this equate 
that the visitor will linger longest, charmed by 
the historical associations of the spot and the 
wonderful beauty and richness of its structures, 
and pleased by its life and gayety, its variety of 
amusements, and the opportunity of observing 
the people, who come here in crowds in the morn¬ 
ing to drink coffee, and in multitudes on pleasant 
evenings to eat ices and sweetmeats, hear music, 
and promenade. I doubt if there be another spot 
of equal size in the whole world where there is so 
much life and gayety concentrated as in the Square 
of St Mark. In the evening the rows of lamps all 
round the collonades are lighted, and the agree¬ 
able southern air, and the dark blue sky, spangled 
with stars, combine to add fascination to the 
scene. The cafes, under the colonnades, are full 
of people, eating ices, and hundreds are sitting in 
chairs on the outside. Up and down, before the 
THE WONDERS OF LIGHT. 
Not only does light fly from the grand “ ruler 
of the day,” with a velocity which is a million and 
a half times greater than the speed of a cannon 
ball, but it darts from every reflecting surface with 
a like velocity, and reaches the tender structure 
of the eye so gently that, as it falls upon the little 
curtain of nerves which is there spread to receive 
it, it imparts the most pleasing sensations, and 
tells its story of the outer world with a minute¬ 
ness of detail, and a holiness of truth. Philoso¬ 
phers once sought to weigh the sunbeam. They 
constructed a most delicate balance, and suddenly 
let it in upon a beam of light: the lever of the 
balance was so delicately hung that the flattering 
of a fly would have disturbed it. Everything pre¬ 
pared, the grave men took their places, and with 
keen eyes watched the result. The Bunbeam that 
was to decide the experiment had left the sun 
eight minutes before, to pass the ordeal. It had 
flown through ninety-five millions of miles of 
space in that short measure of time, and it shot 
upon the balance with unabated velocity. Bat the 
lever moved not, and the philosophers were mate. 
—Scientific American. 
Singular Chinese Custom.— In China, coffins 
are made of very thick timber, and the joints are 
all carefully closed by pasting layers of paper over 
them, so as to make them perfectly air-tight. For 
greater security, a little lime is generally put in 
with the corpse. In this way it is possible to keep 
the coffined corpse in the house for years, without 
any unpleasant consequences. The practice, in¬ 
deed, is not uncommon. Borne have not the 
means at hand for burying in such style as they 
would wish. They must wait for better days.— 
Some do not find a place to suit them. Thus it 
sometimes happens that on entering a Chinese 
gentleman’s house, a coffin is one of the most 
prominent objects seen among the articles of fur¬ 
niture. 
When vice is united to fortune, she changes her 
name. 
Refrain from bitter words; there is only the 
difference of a letter between words and swords. 
