’ f w 
392 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
DEC. 4. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A RHYMING “RURAL” EPISTLE. 
Dear Rural :—Tho’ a stranger friend, 
I sometimes read the thought’s you send, 
And always with extreme delight— 
’Tis for this reason that I write. 
A question, now, I’d ask of you, 
Please answer candidly and true 
Pray, should a stray thought now and then, 
Perchance escape from off my pen, 
Should it take wings and ily away, 
And visit you, what would you say ? 
Would you but turn an anxious eye 
Where manuscripts rejected lie, 
To see if space would e’er permit 
Such wanderers to inhabit it ? 
Or, would you let it rest awhile, 
Upon a far Moorb Rural soil ? 
I'd like to know its future fate 
Before it flies at such a rate. 
I do not wish to compliment 
Your face, or form, to great extent, 
Not e’en the pure and precious gems 
With which you’re graced—Truth’s diadems. 
Methinks such speech had best recline 
Within the depths of thought’s vast mine— 
So I’ll but send a gentle hint, 
From out the walls of that great mint. 
While Wisdom’s dewdrops find a place 
Upon your ever beaming face, 
The Sun of Truth pours forth its light 
Upon each pearly drop so bright, 
Its beams e’er shining through them there, 
From Beauty’s rainbow, gay and fair— 
To sum it up in one brief line, 
Truth, Beauty, AVisdom, all are thine. 
A friend, indeed, to high and low, 
A welcome greets where’er you go. 
Don’t think, because I’ve told what’s true, 
That I am merely flattering you— 
Not half of that which has been told, 
Not half the joys thy leaves unfold, 
I could praise much, but old Time flies, 
And leaves no space to eulogize, 
Content thee, then, with my poor rhyme, 
And learn the rest some future time, 
From lips and pens more skilled to please 
Than lip or pen which guided these— 
From rules of taste I will not swerve 
To praise you all that you deserve. 
Methinks ere this you’ve tired full well 
Of rhyming so nonsensical, 
So pardon this intrusion, please, 
And I your patience will release. 
Lima, N. Y. f 1858. « Hattie.” 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
AUNT MILLY. 
“Oh, dear, dear! what shall I do?” exclaimed 
Mrs. Pettengill. “Uere it is Saturday, and not a 
stitch of my week’s mending done. Bridget sick, 
and consequently all the baking, sweeping, dust¬ 
ing, dish-washiDg, and every other thing falls on 
my shoulders, besides the children will soon be 
home from school, and then there’ll be dinner to 
get and clear away, and then supper. Oh, I’m 
weary of this endless routine of work. Ob, I wish 
I was at home again, as young and light-hearted 
as when Mr. Pettengill first met me. Then 
wouldn’t I stay so? Do you suppose I’d sacrifice 
my youth, beauty, and happiness for his sake? or 
any other man’s? Not I. Or I wish I a good, 
genial, sociable, dear ‘ old maid ’ that everyone 
loved and respected as they do Aunt Milly; but I 
ain’t I’m here, and Mrs. Josiaii Pettengill, wife 
of a cross husband, and mother of four cross 
children. Oh, dear, I’m tired of living.” 
“Why? why? what’s the matter?” said a cheer¬ 
ful voice just beside her, and Aunt Milly's round, 
rosy face peeped through the half-opened door. 
“What, tears? Why, what in the world is the 
matter?” and a clear, ringing laugh broke upon the 
silence of the kitchen. 
“Matter enough, Aunt Milly, only see these 
unwashed dishes, this unswept floor, Bridget 
sick up stairs, the clothes still on the horse, fire 
all out, dinner to get, baking to do, baby crying, 
and I not able to hold my hands up.” 
“ Poor, dear soul!” said Aunt Milly, “ you look 
sick. Now, I’ve come to help you, and you just 
go straight into your room and go to bed, and 
stay there till I tell you you can get up, and I’ll 
see to the baby and the work. No objections now, 
just go straight along,” and thus urged, Mrs. P. 
proceeded towards the bed-room. 
Aunt Milly was one of those dear, good old 
maids that one would always like to have around 
them, and although repeatedly urged to share the 
heart and home of many of the noble and good 
among the “ Lords of Creation,” yet she always 
remained unmarried, because, she said, her sisters 
and neices needed some one to take care of them, 
and accordingly her life was devoted to doing 
good, and she went around a messenger of joy and 
love, and wherever Aunt Milly was, there was light 
and sunshine. 
“Where is Mrs. P?” said Mr. Pbttengill, an 
hour after, as he entered the house. “Where’s 
mother?” screamed three children, stumbling one 
over another, seemingly endeavoring to see which 
would make the most noise. “0, good, Aunt 
Milly, you are here; did you bring us any candy?” 
“ Yes, dears, every one of you a big stick. Now, 
you go out and play, and eat your candy, because 
your mother is asleep.” 
“I’d like to know what she’s a bed for?” fretful¬ 
ly exclaimed Mr. P. 
“ Now, Mr. Pettengill, you just sit down here, 
and take a little good advice from Aunt Milly. 
You see you have not been as careful of Susan as 
you might. You’ve let her bear a little more than 
her share of the burden, haven’t you?” 
“ Well, Aunt MrLLY, I don’t know but I have 
although nobody but you could have made me be-’ 
lieve it.” 
“ Well, I thought you’d think so. Now, eat your 
dinner, and then go and tell her, and make her 
happy.” 
“ Oh, Aunt Milly, how can I ever thank you 
enough for the rest I have had? You have saved 
me from a fit of sickness,” exclaimed Mrs. Pet¬ 
tengill, an hour afterwards, as she entered the 
sitting-room, where was Aunt Milly just folding 
the last piece of mending. The baby was sitting 
on the floor, playing quietly with the rest of the 
children. “But, Aunt Milly, I’m sorry I said 
what I did about Mr. P. and the children. They 
were not cross. The fault was all in myself.” 
“ Now, don’t you go to talking anything more 
about it—you were both to blame, but now you 
both see your fault and will be happy again. But 
I must leave you now, for I’m going to watch with 
old Mrs. Hill to-night So, good-bye,” and Aunt 
Milly was gone. A fervent “ God bless you,” fol¬ 
lowed her, and as Mrs. P. entered the house, Bhe 
exclaimed, from the depths of heart “ Blessed be 
old maids." Kitty Keabn. 
Olivet, Eaton Co., Mich., 1858. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
WEARY. 
“ Like is dark—the world seems dreary, 
And I am tired, heart-worn and weary.” 
These were the words which fell from the lips 
of a young and innocent girl who had early felt 
life’s deepest woes, and whose heart was like a 
blighted flower. As I heard such exclamations 
from one just in the spring-time of life, and saw 
the look of sorrow which accompanied them, 
thought there must be some secret pang wearing 
that yeung life away. Ah, reader mine, down deep 
in many a heart, hid from the world’s rude gaze, 
the destroyer is at work drinking, drop by drop 
the life-blood. Thus many a one passes away, and 
the world knows not the true cause that called 
them hence. Weary ones, you who toil and strug¬ 
gle on amid each rolling conflict, “be firm and 
unbending as the rugged oak”—the world may 
not offer you much sympathy, but look to Him 
“ Who plants His footsteps on the sea, 
And rides upon the storm." 
There you will receive consolation sufficient to 
bear you above every tide of sorrow and enable 
you to go forth and meet life’s trying realities with 
stronger hearts, and more resolute wills. Though 
this earth, with all its glowing beauties, looks dark, 
yet know there is rest for the weary ones far be¬ 
yond this vale of tears, where all sighs will be sup¬ 
pressed, all tears be dried. When sinking beneath 
the heavy burden of woe, remember the words, 
“Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth.” 
Onondaga Hill, N. Y., 1858. Rosa Baker. 
FEMALE EDUCATION. 
Let the education of the young woman be com¬ 
mensurate with her influence. Is it true that, in 
the completion of social life, she is the mistress of 
that which decides its hues? Then let her be 
trained to wield this fearful power with skill, with 
principle, and for the salvation of social man.— 
Does she sometimes bear the sceptre of a nation’s 
well-being in her hand? Cato said of his country¬ 
men, “The Romans govern the world, but it is the 
women that govern the Romans.” 
The discovery of this very Continent testifies to 
the political influence of women. Who favored 
the bold genius of Columbus? Do you say Fer¬ 
dinand of Spain? I answer Isabella prompting 
her partner to the patronage he so reluctantly be¬ 
stowed. Her influence unexerted, the Genoese 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HOPE FOR THE FUTURE. 
They say that Friendship is but a name, 
That Truth dwelleth not below, 
They say that Pride soon yieldeth to shame, 
And joy but presedeth woe. 
Let them croak if they will, but what care I, 
While the heavens o'er me are bright! 
Let them look for clouds in their own dark sky, 
While my path is beaming with light! 
There may be sorrow—there may be tears, 
There may be aDguish and gloom ; 
But why should we hasten, by boding fears, 
The cares that will come too soon. 
Enough 'tis for me, to know that now 
The sun o’er my pathway beams bright, 
That care has yet left no trace on my brow, 
And my heart is happy and light— 
Enough to believe there are friends whose love 
Is more than an empty name, 
And fond hearts, whose truth will forever prove, 
Unfading and still the same :— 
Enough to know that a Father's hand 
Guides and controls us through all, 
Without whose notice and whose command, 
Not e’en a sparrow shall fall,— 
Enough that He, who doth send the storm, 
Is able its wrath to quell, 
Enough that He can shield us from harm, 
And “ He doeth all things well.’’ 
Webster, N. Y., 1858. Nellie. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CASUAL THOUGHTS AND FANCIES.-NO. II, 
Egotism.— Men may talk as they will about the 
folly of so much speaking of ourselves and our in¬ 
terests, but it is a very pardonable folly. Sympathy 
will make an egotist of any man. It is only as 
men sympathize with each other, that they can 
speak thus freely of themselves. Nothing is more 
interesting than egotism. Who ever complained 
that distant and much loved friends wrote long 
letters, all about themselves. Those are just the 
letters we want. And if the egotist be sometimes 
indiscreet—if he sometimes makes confidants of 
those who are not true friends—even that is better 
than the cold reserve, in which most men mark 
their thoughts. And if, impelled by the warmth 
of friendship, he trust the secret of his soul to 
any, none but a mind absorbed in self-love could 
violate the trust imposed upon it. 
Lovers’ Moonlight Rambles.— From the par¬ 
tiality of lovers for moonlight evenings, there 
would seem to be a strong affinity, if not resemblance, 
between love and moonshine! I shrewdly suspect 
that the term Lunatic, (or moonstruck,) was first 
given to lovers, and afterwards came to be applied 
to all other crazy people. 
War with Cufid.—W hen men are in love they 
seem to have a peculiar desire to ridicule the 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SPEAK GENTLY TO THE ERRING. 
How much good we might do in this world, if 
we would but heed the counsel contained in the 
caption of this brief writing, and how many a fel¬ 
low-creature who is now living on in darkness and 
obsenrity might have gained honor and glory had 
it not been for the rough and unkind remarks of 
those envious of his superior talents, and who, 
feeling their inability to excel him in his works, 
have exerted themselves to their utmost to dis¬ 
courage him in his early productions, that thereby 
they might become possessed of the laurels due to 
him who is now toiling up the rugged pathway of 
life unknown and uncared for. And is it not likely 
that this unfortunate and sensitive being who feels 
so deeply the taunts of hia fellow creatures will, in 
his sorrowful and discouraged state of mind, tarn 
from the path in which his foot-steps vainly strove 
to wander and seek to drown his cares in the cup 
which leads to intoxication? Oh! how great the 
sin for which those will become answerable who 
were instrumental in leading him into this ruinous 
and desolate path, and who might, by an encourag¬ 
ing word, have led him on, making brighter his 
anticipations and more successful his efforts, and 
in so doing would they not have felt a deep satis¬ 
faction in knowing that by kindness and encour¬ 
agements they had helped him to win the praise of 
which he was so worthy? And by setting such an 
example of kindness, would they not have led 
others to follow in their footsteps? 
Thus, often by our influence alone, we can enable 
onr fellow creatures to display their real worth to 
the world, or throw over them forever the veil of 
obscurity. A gentle and sensitive being, by her 
industry and talents was fast gaining popularity 
and the favor of those around her, when, in the 
midst of her bright and flowery pathway a school 
mate, with a bold and haughty spirit, threw a cloud 
of sadness around her, and caused to spring up in 
her young heart a feeling of inferiority and an 
worthiness. Her spirits drooped ’neatb the heavy 
load of disappointment and sorrow, and she sank 
into an early grave. Oh, how little, do we seem to 
feel our power greatly to increase, or diminish an 
other’s happiness, else, who would not be kind when 
kindness coBts no art, and who is there that would 
breathe unkind and harsh words into the ears of 
suffering and sorrowing friendp, when by gentle 
ness they might increase their happiness a thou¬ 
sand fold, and enable them to do things worthy of 
much praise, thereby rousing their capabilities 
even beyond their own anticipations. 
“Speak gently to the erring, 
Oh do not thou forget. 
However darkly stained by sin, 
He is thy brother yet; 
Heir of the self same heritage. 
Child of the self-same God, 
He hath but stumbled in the path 
Thou hast in weakness trod." 
NO GOD! 
BY MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
Isabel. 
mariner had never worn the laurel that now graces 
hisbrow. Will you leave this all-potent being iliit ;ider passion. So when Cupid throws his darts, 
erate, to rear sons debased by ignorance, and be- i men hurl back the shafts of wit, but all in vain: 
come dupes of the demagogue? Cupid is stioug, and generally has the best of the 
Look at the domestic circle! Not more sure]; battle, [Is this last paragraph an explanation of 
does tho -impress of night illuminate and beautH, tho one that precedes it?— Ed.] 
NATURAL BEAUTY. 
the whole canopy of heaven, than does woman, i 
educated aright, irradiate, and give her fairest tint 
to her own fireside. To leave her uncultivated, 
victim to ignorance, prejudice, and the vices the, 
entail, is to take home to our bosoms, a brood that 
will inflict pangs sharper than death. For the lov 
and honor of our homes, let us encourage the moi 
liberal culture of the female mind.— Young Maiden. 
What inconceivable wealth of beauty must re¬ 
side in the mind which, without copy, first called 
j forth the numberless hues and shades that relieved 
I each other and melt into each other in the vast 
' '-’hole of Nature—which devised tfM&e c lunuoes 
Society,—M jui needs society, not merely Ju hia arms of vegetable life, from the wayside flower 
material relations, in order to provide food, rai- .iat blooms to-day and withers to morrow to the 
mont and habitation, but alto brill more in hia orest giant which outlasts the rise and fall of 
spiritual relaiiuus, to develop hia moral and social ations and of empires—which meted out the 
..ature, which innktH him a man instead of a brute, eavens, measured the courses, and arranged the 
Men are not held together by the material advau- armonies of the stars, spread the ocean, poured 
ges of social ji:e. It is not the iron bands of | the river, torrent and waterfall! What an infinity 
BE HAPPY. 
Yet not in stndies above their years, or in irk¬ 
some tasks, should children be employed. The 
joyous freshness of their young natures should be 
preserved while they learn the duties that fit them 
for this life and the next. Wipe away their tears. 
Remember how hurtful are heavy rains to the 
tender blossom j ust opening on the day. Cherish 
their smiles. Let them learn to draw happiness 
from all surrounding objects, since there may be 
some mixture of happiness in everything but sin. 
It was once said of a beautifal woman, that from 
her childhood Bhe had ever spoke smilingly, as if 
the heart poured joy upon the lips, and they turned 
it into beauty. 
May I be forgiven for so repeatedly pressing on 
mothers to wear the lineaments of cheerfulness? 
“To be good, and disagreeable, is high treason 
against the royalty of virtue,” said a correct 
moralist. How much is it to be deprecated, when 
piety, the only foundation of true happiness, fails 
of making that joy visible to every eye. If happi¬ 
ness is melody of soul, the concord of onr feelings 
with the circumstances of our lot, the harmony of 
our whole being with the will of our Creator, how 
desirable that this melody should produce the re¬ 
sponse of sweet tones, and a smiling countenance, 
that even slight observers may be won by the 
charm of its external symbols!— Mrs. Sigourney. 
A Woman’s Growth in Beauty.—I f a woman 
could only believe it, there is a wonderful beauty 
even in the growing old. The charm of express¬ 
ion arising from softened temper or ripened intel¬ 
lect, often amply atones for the loss of form and 
coloring; and, consequently, to those who never 
could boast of these latter years, give much more 
than they take away. A sensitive person often re¬ 
quires half a life to get used to this corporeal ma¬ 
chine, to attain a wholesome indifference, both to 
its defects and perceptions, and to learn at last, 
what nobody would acquire from any teacher but 
experience, that it is the mind alone which is of 
consequence; that with good temper, sincerity and 
a moderate stock of brains—or even the two form¬ 
er only—any sort of body can, in time, be made 
useful, respectable and agreeable, as a traveling 
dress for the soul. Many a one who was plain in 
youth thus grows pleasant and well looking in de¬ 
clining years. You will hardly ever find anybody 
not ugly in mind, who is repulsively ugly in person 
after middle life. 
commerce, but it is the tender yearnings for 
sympathy, and the strong but gentle chords of 
love, that bind men’s hearts together, and create 
society. * 
Henrietta, N. Y., 1858. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
INDUSTRY AND PERSEVERANCE. 
Industry and Perseverance have been the two 
great causes of the prosperity of our country._ 
They have built our cities and villages, and have 
spread over the hills, valleys, and plains of our 
widely extended land, a free and happy people, 
They have furnished them with the privileges of 
religion, and they have distributed the Bible and 
Bible truths in every land to which our people have 
access. They have furnished the means of a 
liberal education to every family in our country, 
What has supplied our own State with such ample 
means and opportunities for the education of her 
children! —what ha3 established institutions of 
learning in almost every village and hamlet in our 
State, which has been but a few years reclaimed 
from the wild beast aad the untamed Indian, but 
an indomitable perseverance and industry, which 
could not be shaken or turned from its purpose. 
Industry and Perseverance have built our navy, 
and have sent the winged messengers of com 
merce to every land, and if there is an object for 
the advancement ef Science, Art, Religion, or 
Philanthropy, Industry famishes the means of its 
attainment, and Perseverance pushes it along un¬ 
til it is attained. Industry fells our forests, and 
makes the wilderness to blossom as the rose_it 
sends the “Iron Horse” thundering through our 
valleys—digs deep into the earth in seach of hid¬ 
den wealth—scatters the seed in view of the com¬ 
ing harvest, and causes the earth to yield suste¬ 
nance to the countless thousands of its inhabitants, 
Assyria, Mich., 1858. j. m. T . 
Thankfulness. —Many favors which God giveth 
us ravel out for want of hemming, through our 
own unthankfulness, for though prayer purchaseth 
blessings, giving praise doth keep the quiet pos¬ 
session of them.— Thomas Fuller. 
“Agitate.”— A current cry of the radical is, 
“Agitate! Agitate.” His assumption is —if the 
cry is anything more than mere cant—that in the 
human mind, this agitation promotes clearness 
and develops truth. He forgets that the mass of 
mind is not profound, and that in shallow waters 
the only effect of agitation is to stir up filth and 
produce feculence.— Rev. F. S. JewelL 
Envy. —Envy is the hatred of another’s felicity; 
in respect of superiors, because they are not equal 
to them; in respect of inferiors, lest he should be 
equal to them; in respect of equals, because they 
are equal to them. Through envy proceeded the 
fall of the world and the death of Christ— Au¬ 
gustine. 
Lust is a sharp spur to vice, which always put- 
teth the affections into a false gallop. — Ambrose. 
of resources do we behold in the alternate phases 
of the outward universe, each of which seems too 
beautiful to be replaced by one of equal loveliness, 
and yet yields at once its fancied pre-eminence to 
its successor! 
Thus, who can say which is the more replete 
with beauty—day, with its all-revealing light, or 
night, with its countless centers of fainter radi¬ 
ance; Spring, with its outgushing from every 
fountain of life, its promise half hidden, half dis¬ 
closed, its fresh, thin field and forest drapery; 
Summer, with its richer, deeper verdure, its gayer 
forms, and more festive aspect; Autumn, with its 
parti-colored foliage, and its piles of gold and 
crimson in the western sky; or hoary Winter, in 
its simpler, purer robe, with its delicate frostwork 
and its icy stalactites? Go where you will, you 
escape not the reign of beauty. During the long 
polar night the northern fires bathe heaven and 
earth in splendor more gorgeous than day. The 
torrid sand-waste still lies beneath a glorious sky, 
and is studded with oases rich in all the tokens of 
creative love. Wreathes and fillets of azure mist 
belt the bare mountain crags, while about their 
summits the 
Signs and wonders of the element 
Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise. 
[ Selected,. 
SELF-RELIANCE. 
“ No God 1 No God!” the simplest flower 
That on the wild is found, 
Shrinks, as it drinks its cup of dew, 
And trembles at the sound : 
“ No God !”—astonished Echo cries 
From out her cavern hoar, 
And every wandering bird that flies 
Reproves the Atheist-lore. 
The solemn forest lifts its head, 
The Almighty to proclaim ; 
The brooklet, on its crystal urn, 
Doth leap to grave His name. 
How swells the deep and veDgefal sea 
Along his billowy track, 
The red Vesuvius opes his mouth 
To hurl the falsehood back. 
The palm tree, with its princely erf8’, 
The cocoa’s leafy shade, 
The bread-fruit bending to its lord, 
In yon far island glade ; 
The winged seeds, that, borne by winds, 
The roving sparrows feed, 
The melon, on the desert sands, 
Confute the scorner’s creed. 
“No God 1” With indignation high 
The fervent sun is stirred, 
And the pale moon turns paler still 
At such an impious word : 
And from their burning thrones, the stars 
Look down with angry eye, 
That thus a worm of dust should mock 
Eternal majesty. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE UNKNOWN FUTURE. 
When we review the past and contemplate the 
present, we naturally desire to know the future 
also. As we look over our past experiences, and 
consider onr present circumstances, onr hopes, our 
ambition, curiosity prompts us to endeavor to cast 
a penetrating glance into the land of the “To Be.” 
We have hopes, and we wish to know to what ex¬ 
tent they will be gratified—we have ambitioD, and 
we long to know to what degree we shall succeed 
—we have friends, and we desire to look ahead 
and see how faithful they will prove. Bat would 
it be well for us to know all that awaits ns hereaf¬ 
ter? We find an answer in the following gem 
which we met with a few days ago:— “God is mer¬ 
ciful, and in no way is His mercy more fully shown 
than in spreading out before us only life’s present 
page.” This beautiful sentiment, which could not 
Lave emanated but from a meek and pious heart, 
is worthy of attentive consideration. God has 
made all things well, and we may rest assured that 
it is for our good that the future can be known to 
U3 only in the pleasing castles of hope. It is 
enough for us to experience the joj-s or sorrows of 
the present hour. 
Life’s drama, with its changing scenes, presents 
sufficient for onr admiration and love, and suffi¬ 
cient for our pity or sorrow. The present is our 
only time for action and enjoyment. The past and 
the future are not ours. We can but survey the 
past and imagine the future. Because of our lg uo- 
rance in regard to what is to come, Hope is given 
us as the “anchor of the soul” The well-regu¬ 
lated mind naturally hopes for good and is little 
disposed to look upon the future under a gloomy 
aspect. Hope always refreshes us. When we call 
upon Memory to enliven us with pleasing recollec¬ 
tions of the past, and invite Hope to cheer us with 
joyful expectations of the future, we doubt very 
much whether we are not to decide that Hope has 
afforded us the most pleasure. Even though ex¬ 
perience has taught us to regard the airy castles 
of imagination with a distrustful eye, yet we will¬ 
ingly suffer ourselves to be enchanted with the 
magnificence of the view and, in spite of our judg¬ 
ment, give play to the exultation of joy, as if we 
were, in reality, experiencing that which exists 
only in the storehouse of onr imagination. 
Schenectady, N. Y., 1858. A. W. 
AN ACTIVE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 
Insist on yourself; never imitate. Yonr own 
gift you can present every moment with the cumu¬ 
lative force of a whole life’s cultivation; but of the 
adopted talent of another you have only an ex¬ 
temporaneous, half-possession. That which each 
can do best, none but his Maker can teach. No 
man yet knows what it is, nor caD, till that person 
has exhibited it. Where is the master who could 
have taught Shakspeare? Where is the master who 
could have instructed FrankliD, or Washington, or 
Bacon, or Newton. Every great man is a unique. 
Scipionism or Scipio is precisely that part he could 
not borrow. If anybody will tell me whom the 
great man imitates in the original crises when he 
performs a great act, I will tell him who else than 
himself can teach him. Shakspeare will never be 
made by the study of Shakspeare. Do that which 
is assigned thee, and thou canst not hope too much. 
There is at this moment, there is for me an utter¬ 
ance bare and grand as that of the colossal chisel 
of Phidias, or trowel of the Egyptians, or the pen 
of Moses, or Dante, but different from all these.— 
Not possibly will the soul all rich, all eloquent 
with thousand-cloven tongue, deign to repeat itself; 
but if I can hear what these patriarchs say, surely 
I can reply to them in the same pitch of voice: for 
the ear and the tongue are two organs of one na¬ 
ture. Dwell up there in the simple and noble re¬ 
gions of thy life, obey thy heart, and thou shalt re- 
roduce the Foreworld again.— R. W. Emerson. 
The Protestant Churchman, speaking of an ac¬ 
tive Christian life as a part of the Divine scheme 
for overflowing the dominion of Satan, remarks: 
“How wonderful is even the simplest act that 
is distinctively Christian! It is an act born in 
the depths of redeeming love, and looking for¬ 
ward to its triumph. Such an act could never 
have existed if man had been left where Satan 
placed him; it is a trophy of Divine success in 
the contest with moral evil, and God is glorified 
by it. If His outward works can speak His 
praise in the display they make of His wisdom 
and power, much more is He honored in the holy 
life of a being morally fallen, but snatched from 
the influence of the agent of his ruin, and raised 
to newness of life. If the outer world, in all 
its scenes of beauty and of grandeur, praises not 
itself, but God, its great Creator; if day unto 
day uttereth speech, and night unto night show- 
eth knowledge, the Heavens declaring the glory 
of God, and the firmament showing His handi¬ 
work— in a far higher sense do the works of 
Christians praise Him, and show forth His glory. 
They are the results and evidences of that stu¬ 
pendous influence by which devils are dethroned, 
and souls, once in bondage to them, emancipated, 
transformed, and saved.” 
A Sure Record. —There is no way for men to 
discern their names written in the book of life, bat 
by reading the work of sanctification in their own 
hearts. I desire no miraculous voice from heaven, 
no extraordinary signs, or unscriptural notices and 
information in this matter. Lord, let me bat find 
my heart obeying thy calls, my will obediently 
submitting to thy commands; sin, my burden, and 
Christ, my desire; I never crave a fairer or surer 
evidence of thy electing love to my sou! ,—FlaveL 
Christian Charity. —Let the love of your 
brethren be as fire within you, consuming that sel¬ 
fishness that is so contrary to it, and so natural to 
men; let it set your thoughts on work to study 
how to do others good; let your love be an active 
love, intense within you, and extending itself in 
doing good to the souls and bodies of your breth¬ 
ren as they need and yon are able.— Leighton* 
