MOOSE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL. LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
|T alms' Iffrt-Jfllw. 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE. 
Written for Moore’s Eur&l New-Yorker. 
LINES :—TO AN ABSENT BROTHER. 
Hushed is the busy din of life, 
And stilled each note of glee, 
While sadly turn my thoughts again, 
Dear absent one to thee. 
I ’mind me of the weary way, 
The long, long path that lies 
Between us, till my heart is sad 
And tears are in my eyes. 
In rain the tuneful bird of Hope 
Her flattering song would sing, 
And radiance o’er thy future path, 
Her wild enchantment fling, 
I only see thy vacant place— 
The severed household chain, 
And tremble lest the broken link 
Be never clasped again. m. j. c. 
Nunda ; March, 1855. 
TRANS-ATLANTIC EPISTLES, 
TO COUSIN KATEY. 
Communicated through Moork’s Rural New-Yorker. 
NEW SERIES-EPISTLE FIFTH. 
Marriage in Germany — Engagements made public — Be¬ 
trothal rings — Terms Bride and Bridegroom, how 
applied—“ Setting out ”—Tailors making ladies’ dresses 
—Legal preliminaries—Myrtle wreath—Frequency of 
Divorce— Silbeme and Goldene Hochzeit —Germanisms. 
Dear Katey :—Some of the most striking 
peculiarities of German customs I find to be 
those connected with “ marrying and giving in 
marriage,” and I am quite inclined to devote 
the present letter to a little sketch of the par¬ 
ticulars which most interest and amuse a 
foreigner. To begin with the beginning,— 
people must be engaged before they are mar¬ 
ried, at least such is the ordinary course of 
events. With us, you know, an engagement 
is the most mysterious, delicate, intangible of 
all conceivable relations. None but the near¬ 
est relatives are entrusted with the secret, and 
even these, not always. The extensive circle 
of friends and acquaintances, and society at 
large are left to the merest conjecture on this 
point, and not unfrequently great pains are 
taken to blind the eye3 of those whose pene¬ 
tration is feared. Not so in Germany. As 
soon as an enamored pair have disclosed their 
mutual flame, and arrived at an understanding, 
the first business attended to is the making the 
thing as public as possible. The usual mode 
of doing this is by sending cards to all their 
acquaintances, similar to our wedding cards, 
with this difference, that, instead of announ¬ 
cing themselves as married, they merely inform 
their friends that they are engaged. 
The Dresdeners, however, manage things in 
a different way, still more public and business¬ 
like. There is a daily paper published here 
called the “Dresdener Auzeiger,” and devoted 
entirely to advertisements. One section of this 
is headed “ Family News,” and here one may 
often see a notice reading something in this 
way,—“ John Smith and Mary Jones an¬ 
nounce themselves as engaged.” Even a 
Yankee would be puzzled, I think, to invent 
anything more simple and straight forward 
than this. Then John Smith and Mary 
Jones exchange betrothal rings, which are 
ever afterwards worn on the third finger of the 
right hand, serving thus as an unmistakeable 
mark of their engaged condition. No more 
flirting on the part of Mary Jones,— no 
worshiping at the shrine of other beauties, on 
the part of John Smith; the ring would be¬ 
tray them at once, and their attentions would 
be repulsed with scorn. But, Katey, I have 
not reached the climax yet. What think you 
are the new titles which the interesting couple 
receive, as soon as the formalities mentioned 
above have been attended to ? With us noth¬ 
ing short of the marriage ceremony itself 
transforms the maiden into the bride, the bach¬ 
elor into the bridegroom ; but in Germany 
they understand things differently. When 
John Smith and Mary Jones are engaged, 
she becomes forthwith a bride, and he a bride¬ 
groom, and by these names they are constantly 
addressed until they are married, whether the 
interval consists of months or years. So soon 
as Mary Jones is actually married, she is no 
longer a bride, but simply a young wife, and 
John Smith, in like manner, no longer a bride¬ 
groom, but a young husband. Such a trans¬ 
fer of terms is wonderful perplexing to Eng¬ 
lish ears, and it was long before I could accus¬ 
tom myself to the souse which the Germans 
attach to these words. For instance, in one 
of my walks I met a famous opera singer, and 
was told the gentleman with her was her bride¬ 
groom. I, of course, supposed she had been 
secretly married, but no! she was not married, 
nor had she any immediate intention of being 
so,—she was simply engaged. 
But to return to our engaged couple. All 
the preliminaries necessary for the marriage 
ceremony have not yet been gone through with. 
During the whole time which the engagement 
subsists, Mary Jones must devote herself 
most diligently to- knitting -stockings ; 
that is, if she has not taken time by toe fore¬ 
lock, and completed this part of the, prepara¬ 
tion before she made her conquest- You will 
not wonder at my laying so much stress upon ; 
this point, when f toil you that from fifty to ! 
one hundred pairs of stockings are no unusual 1 
number to be comprised in a trousseau. I am 
myself acquainted with German ladies who j 
have knit that number, and even more, with ; 
their own hands. Mrs. B., a young married | 
lady next door, prepared seventy-two pairs for ; 
her bridal outfit, and, within a few months j 
after her marriage, she had knit her husband 
no less than four dozen pairs of socks, many 
of them of the finest cotton yarn. The quan¬ 
tity of linen, of all descriptions, which must 
be provided, is in proportion, and all hands 
in the family are busy upon it. Twelve sets 
of every article are considered barely respec¬ 
table, and many extend their ambitious aspi¬ 
rations so far, (and often realize them too,) as 
to leave behind them at death linen which be¬ 
longed to their “ setting out,” and which has 
never been used, through the course of a long 
life-time, from a sheer superfluity of the article. 
There is, in reality, a little more sense in this 
accumulation of linen by German housewives, 
than an American 'lady would at first imagine, 
for their household arrangements are some¬ 
what different. Washing, instead of being 
done every week, is performed at intervals 
varying from two or three weeks to as many 
months, the average being perhaps from four 
to six weeks. The longer the time, the more 
respectable the family, for this circumstance 
naturally indicates a more abundant supply of 
linen. 
The tailor plays no unimportant part in 
the preparation of the bridal outfit. You 
must know, Katey, that in Germany, as also 
in former times in England, ladies dresses are 
made, not by females, but by men, “ ladies’ 
tailors,” they are called. There are, it is true, 
also females who -work at this business, but 
here, as in most occupations where there is 
competition between the two sexes, the “ lords 
of creation ” take the precedence, and their 
services are pretty sure to be called into 
requisition when so important a thing as a 
wedding dress is on the carpet. The tailor 
takes the measure, brings the dress to be tried, 
discusses all the particulars of the fit, &c., 
precisely as with us a dress-maker would do, 
and no one seems to perceive anything singu¬ 
lar or inappropriate in it all. 
But let us suppose all these preparations 
completed. Mary Jones has knit her fifty or 
one hundred pairs of stockings— Mary J ones’ 
mother has got her chests of linen ready— 
Mary Jones’ tailor has made her dresses. 
Last of all come the legal formalities, which 
are quite as formidable in their kind. The 
bans must be proclaimed on three successive 
Sabbaths from the pulpit. Mary Jones and 
John Smith must each provide themselves 
with a certificate of baptism, a certificate of 
confirmation, a certificate of having been vac¬ 
cinated, a certificate of the consent of parents, 
and, in addition to these, John Smith must 
also have a certificate that he is not subject to 
military duty. When all these papers are 
obtained, a process which sometimes involves 
no small expenditure of time and money, and 
not till then, can the “ twain be made one 
flesh.” The marriage ceremony is always 
performed at church, and is itself more simple 
than one might be led to expect from the un¬ 
conscionable tediousness of the preparations. 
The bride wears a myrtle crown, the symbol of 
maidenhood, and if one dares to make her 
appearance with this crown, in whose case 
public opinion will not accord the right to 
wear it, she runs great risk of having her 
bridal wreath torn from her head by the ex¬ 
cited populace. A widow, on the occasion of 
her second marriage, can have only a half 
wreath of myrtle. 
One would imagine that when these prelim¬ 
inaries to marriage are so protracted, and so 
much time is allowed for taking a “ sober, 
second thought,” before entering upon this 
important relation, divorces would be rare ; 
but, on the contrary, they are extremely fre¬ 
quent in Germany, and provision is made for 
them from the very commencement of the 
matrimonial life. For example, the outfit of 
the bride and the wedding presents must be 
Skept entirely distinct, for, in case of separa¬ 
tion, the former remains the property of the 
wife alone, the latter must be equally divided 
between the two. 
There are two family festivals, jubilees, they 
might be called, celebrated in Germany, which 
take their spring from the marriage ceremony, 
and are not a little touching and beautiful.— 
The first is called the “ Siberne Hochzeit,” 
i silver weddiDg,) and takes place when the 
twenty-fifth anniversary of the wedding day 
comes round. The second, the “ Goldene 
Hochzeit,” (golden wedding,) is in like manner 
celebrated when fifty years of married life have 
p :ssed over the heads of the wedded couple.— 
The latter is comparatively a rare occurrence, 
and on this occasion it is quite customary for 
the venerable bride and groom, who must 
have attained at least their three score years 
and ten, to repair to the church, where they 
are, as it were, re-married to each other. Both 
the Silbei'ne and Goldene Hochzeit give rise 
to great family rejoicings, and the congratu- 
'ations and good wishes of friends are quite as 
abundant and enthusiastic, perhaps more so, 
than when the youthful couple first entered 
the marriage relation. 
There, Katey, I think that this is enough 
on this subject. By way of finale, let me give 
you one or two Germanisms, with the corres¬ 
ponding English expressions. A young man 
in Germany can never be said to “ get the 
mitten,”—he only “ g ets a basket.” A young 
lady who has been once engaged, and the en¬ 
gagement broken off, for such things some¬ 
times occur here, notwithstanding the great 
publicity and formality of engagements, is 
called an “Abgeschntttener Braten,” a phrase 
that cannot easily be translated, and is, it 
must be confessed, more forcible than eloquent. 
Affectionately Yours, MINNIE. 
A DYING MOTHER’S LOVE. 
The plague broke out in a little Italian 
village. In one house the children were taken 
first; the parents watched over them, but only 
caught the disease which they themselves could 
not cure. The whole family died. On the 
opposite side of the way lived the family of a 
laborer, who was absent the whole week, only 
coming on Saturday nights to bring his scanty 
earnings. His wife felt herself attacked by the 
fever in the night; in the morning she was 
worse, and before night the plague spot show¬ 
ed itself. She thought of the terrible fate of 
her neighbors. She knew she must die, but 
as she looked upon her dear little boys, she re¬ 
solved not to communicate death to them.— 
She therefore locked the little children in the 
room, and snatched her bed clothes, lest they 
should keep the contagion behind her, and left 
the house. She even denied herself the sad 
pleasure of a last embrace. Oh, think of the 
heroism that enabled her to conquer her feel¬ 
ings and all she loved, to die! Her eldest child 
saw her from the window. “ Good bye, 
mother,” said he, with his tenderest tone, for 
he wondered why his mother left him so strange¬ 
ly. “ Good bye, mother,” repeated the young¬ 
est child, stretching his little hand out of the 
window. The mother paused, her heart was 
drawn toward her children, and she was on 
the point of turning back ; she struggled hard, 
white the tears rolled down her cheeks at the 
sight of her helpless babes ; at length she turn¬ 
ed from them. The children continued to cry 
“ good bye, mother.” The sounds sent a thrill 
of anguish to he" heart; but she pressed on to 
the house of those who were to bury her. In 
two days she died, recommending her husband 
and children to their care with her last breath. 
Question and Answer — Question. —AVhat 
ought to be done with a gentleman who en¬ 
gages the affection of a young lady and leaves 
her. 
Answer. —Bless him, let him go. We al¬ 
ways think, in such a case, that a young lady 
has abundant cause for congratulation, and in¬ 
stead of whining and crying over “ spilt affec¬ 
tion,” let her put on her sunny smiles, and en¬ 
deavor to captivate a more worthy beau.— 
You may depend upon it, that a man who has 
no more stability of mind or honesty of pur¬ 
pose than to act in this way to a young lady, 
is not worth a tear of regret; on the contrary, 
she should be especially happy that she had 
so luckily got rid of a person who throughout 
his life, in whatever he undertook, would un¬ 
questionably exhibit the same unfixedness of 
purpose and the same irresolution of mind.— 
Love is like everything else ; a man who is 
not to be trusted iu that, is very likely to be 
unsafe in other respects. 
Love Computed by Mathematics. —Made¬ 
moiselle de Launay, a French authoress of the 
eighteenth century, whose writings were dis¬ 
tinguished by their piquant delicacy and cor¬ 
rectness of judgment, thus writes concerning 
one who had formed an early attachment for 
her : “ Monsieur de Bey always showed me 
great attachment. I discovered, by slight in¬ 
dications, some diminution in his passion. I 
often went to see Mademoiselle d’Epinar, at 
whose house he almost always was. As she 
lived very near my convent, I generally re¬ 
turned on foot, and he never failed to offer me 
his arm to conduct me home. We had to pass 
through a large square, and at the beginning 
of our acquaintance he took the road by the 
side of the square. Then I saw that he cross¬ 
ed it in the middle, whence I concluded that 
his love had diminished by the difference be¬ 
tween the diagonal and the two sides of the 
square.” 
The Influence of a Child. —Here is a 
beautiful sentiment from the pen of Coleridge. 
Nothing could be more eloquent. 
“ Call not that man wretched, who, whatever 
else he suffers, as to pain inflicted or pleasure 
denied, has a child on whom he doats. Pov¬ 
erty may grind him to the dust; obscurity 
may cast its dark mantle over him ; he may be 
unheeded by those with whom he dwells, and 
his face may be unknown by his neighbors ; 
even pain may rack his joints, and sleep flee 
from his pillow ; but he has a gem with which 
he would not part for wealth, defying compu¬ 
tation, for fame filling a world’s ear, for the 
sweetest sleep that ever fell on mortal’s eye.” 
THE WELCOME BACK. 
Swept is the hour that brings us home, 
Whore all will spring to meet us ; 
Where hands are striving, as we come, 
To be the first to greet us. 
When the world hath spent its frowns and wrath, 
And care been sorely pressing ; 
’Tis sweet to turn from our roving path, 
And find a fireside blessing. 
Oh, joyfully dear is the homeward track. 
If we are hut suro of a welcome back. 
Though we may have a hard pillow, yet it 
is only sin can plant a thorn in it—and even 
though it may be hard and lonely, yet we may 
have sweet sleep and glorious visions upon it. 
It was when Jacob was lying on a stone for a 
pillow, that he had glorious visions of the 
ladder reaching to Heaven. 
A Cheerful temper, joined with innocence, 
will make beauty attractive, knowledge de¬ 
lightful, and wit good-natured. 
ORIENTAL POLYGAMY-A SCENE, 
In his work on the East, Mr. Graham has 
the following on the subject of Oriental 
Polygamy : 
The Moslems may legally have four wives ; 
but you are not to suppose that most, or even 
many, of the Moslems, have four wives; they 
are prevented by poverty, by affection, and by 
the great law of nature, which created the 
human race, male and female, at the beginning, 
aud keeps the number of males and females 
nearly equal in all ages. In Damascus very 
many have but one wife, and though divorce 
may, and does multiply the facilities for hav¬ 
ing a variety of wives, yet I am led to think 
that though two wive3 are frequent, three or 
four are very rare, and that perhaps the ma¬ 
jority are contented with one at a time. The 
last married wife is generally the favorite for 
the time being, and the others must submit to 
her control. These different wives, if the hus¬ 
band can at all afford it, are kept in different 
houses, or even in different cities. When this 
is not possible, the four wives and families 
dwelling in the same habitation make it not 
unfrequently a scene of noise and boisterous 
confusion. 
In another part of his book Mr. Graham 
gives an oriental scene, illustrating the bless¬ 
ings of polygamy: 
The place is the holy city of Damascus, 
famous, according to the opinion of the natives, 
as affording the best air, the best water, and 
the best food in the world—the city of Eliezer 
at the time of Abraham, 3,774 years ago— 
the city of the califs, ruling over a larger em¬ 
pire than that of Augustus—a city which, 
sacked and spoiled, spoiled and sacked, always 
rises from its ruins, phoenix-like, as vigorous 
as before, and possesses at the present time 
100,000 souls. Enter—the streets are narrow, 
dusty, crooked, and filled with lank, howling, 
hungry dogs; the sun .is shedding forth his 
noon day splendors from his flaming meridian; 
the innumerable fountains in the streets, in the 
streets, in the courts, and in the rooms, are 
lulling you to softness and repose with their 
gentle murmurs; the sky is serene and cloud¬ 
less, reminding of the fine Scripture expres¬ 
sion, “The body of heaven in its pureness;” 
while the wild piercing cry of Muezzin, tell¬ 
ing the hour and inviting to prayer, proclaims 
the triumphs of the Crescent and the doctrines 
of Islam. There is a strange quiet and in¬ 
activity everywhere; no carriages rolling 
along the streets, no rattling of machinery,no 
crowds of busy bustling men hastening to and 
fro, as in our large towns. It seems a city of 
the dead, but yet the people are alive. Knock 
at that respectable-looking door, and let us 
take a peep at the interior of the building.— 
It belongs to a wealthy Moslem, and shows 
you a good specimen of the barbaric splendor 
in which extremes, inconsistencies, and con¬ 
tradictions are all blended together. Out of 
silver vessels you will eat rice with your fin¬ 
gers ; turbans and girdles that cost one hun¬ 
dred pounds each you will see on bare footed 
gentlemen of the East; costly furniture, flow¬ 
ing fountains, lofty ceilings, stately solemn 
personal deportment, strangely commingled 
with dirt aud pollution of all kinds, with ex¬ 
treme ignorance and intolerable assumptions 
of superiority. 
Enter the house. What is this? There is 
strange confusion in the splendid mansion, and 
it seems as if the oriental life as well as our 
own had its troubles. The whole scene re¬ 
minds one of an Irish row, aud was originated 
in the following way. Four wives live in the 
house, and they have all families. The chil¬ 
dren come together in the common court, and 
ai'ter playing awhile, they begin to fight; then 
the mothers come and take the part of their 
children, which adds not a little to the confu¬ 
sion. Shortly after the female slaves join in 
the tumult, and with shouting and yelling 
augment the vehemence of the broil; then, 
lastly, a few eunuchs raise their sweet voices 
(the eunuch’s voice is the sweetest in the 
world—the pope’s choir, they say, must be 
eunuchs) in the midst of the uproar, and the 
picture of the four-wived Mohammedan’s do¬ 
mestic happiness is complete! He enters; his 
gait is portly, his look is haughty and com¬ 
manding, his word should prevail as law ; but 
no—he can make neither head nor tail of the 
matter—the diversity and vehemence of their 
mutual clamors and accusations bewilder him, 
and he cannot even get a hearing. He retires 
slowly from the scene of contention and claps 
his hands for his attendant slave—“Jacob, 
bring me a pipe ; there is no use in interfer¬ 
ence ; let them fight it out among themselves. 
God has created them from a crooked rib.”— 
So saying, he reclines on the divan, and en¬ 
joys his pipe aud coffee as if nothing had oc¬ 
curred. Such are the blessings of polygamy 1 
True Politeness. —A great and good man, 
once speaking of politeness, said:—“ I make it 
a point of morality never to find fault with 
another l'or his manners ; they may be awk¬ 
ward or graceful, blunt or polite, polished or 
rustic. 1 care not what they are, if the man 
means well and acta from honest intentions, 
without eccentricity of affection. All men 
have not the advantage of “ good society,” as 
it is called, to school themselves in all its fan¬ 
tastic rules aud ceremonies, and if there is any 
standard of manners, it is only founded in rea¬ 
son and good sense, and not upon the artificial 
regulations. Manners, like conversation, 
should be extemporaneous and not studied. I 
always suspect a man who meets me with the 
same premeditated shake of the hand. Give 
me the (it may be rough) grip of the hand, and 
the careless nod of recognition, and when oc¬ 
casion requires, the homely salutation, ‘ How 
are you, my old friend ” 
That writer does the most who gives his 
reader the most knowledge, and takes from 
him the least time. 
DOROTHY WORDSWORTH, 
The London Illustrated News, speaking of 
this lady, who has lately died, says : 
Though Dorothy Wordswotrh was not gift¬ 
ed like her brother, with what he calls “ the 
accomplishment of verses,” yet she had all the 
genius and faculty divine of a true poet, look¬ 
ing on nature with a poet’s eye. How ex¬ 
quisitely earnest and truthful is her descrip¬ 
tion of daffodils, as seen in spring. “ We saw 
a few daffodils close to the water side. As we 
went along there were more and yet more; and 
at last, under the boughs of the trees, we saw 
there was a long belt of them along the shore. 
I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew 
along the mossy stones about them. Some 
rested their heads on these stones as on a pil¬ 
low ; the rest tossed, and reeled, and danced, 
and seemed as if they verily laughed with the 
wind, they looked so gay and glancing.”— 
What the sister saw and told in prose, Words¬ 
worth saw through his sister’s eyes, and has 
told in verse : 
I wandered lonely as a cloud 
That floats on high o’er vales and hills, 
When all at once I saw a crowd, 
A host of golden doffadils ; 
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 
Fluttering and dancing in the breoze. 
Continuous as the stars that shine 
And twinkle on the milky-way, 
They stretched in never-ending lino 
Along the margin of a bay ; 
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
Tossing their heads in a sprightly dance. 
The waves beside them danced ; hut they 
Outdid the sparkling waves in giee ; 
A poet could not but be gay 
In such a jocund company. 
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought 
What wealth to me the show had brought. 
l'or oft, when on my couch I lie 
In vacant or in pensive mood, 
2 hey flash upon that inward eye 
'Which is the bliss of solitude; 
And then my hoart with pleasure fills, 
And dances with the daffodils. 
Of this poem Wordsworth himself has told 
us that the two best lines in it are by his sis¬ 
ter. These lines we have printed in italic.— 
Surely there is now a chance of our seeing 
Miss Wordsworth’s Diary entire. If she re¬ 
ported conversations as she described the face 
of nature, her Diary must be a treat. One of 
her sayings is well known ; “ When a child I 
could not have pulled a strawberry blossom.” 
There is the sense of womanhood in this. 
PARTING INTERVIEW WITH EMMET. 
The evening before his death, while the 
workmen were busy with the scaffold, a young 
lady was ushered into his dungeon. It was 
the girl whom he so fondly loved, and who had 
now come to bid him an eternal farewell. He 
was leaning in a melancholy mood against the 
window-frame of the prison, and the heavy 
clanking of his irons smote dismally upon her 
heart. The interview was bitterly affecting, 
and melted even the callous soul of the jailor. 
As for Emmet, he spoke little; but as he press¬ 
ed his beloved in silence to liis bosom, his coun¬ 
tenance betrayed his emotions. In a low 
voice, half choked by anguish, he besought her 
not to forget him ; he reminded her of their 
former happiness, of the long past days of their 
childhood, and concluded by requesting her 
sometimes to visit the scenes where their in¬ 
fancy was spent, and though the world might 
repeat their names with scorn, to cling to his 
memory with affection. 
At this very instant, the evening bell pealed 
from the neighboring church. Emmet started 
at the sound, and as he felt that this was the 
last time he should ever hear its dismal sound, 
he folded his beloved still closer to his heart, 
and bent over her sinking form with his eyes 
streaming with affection. The turnkey en¬ 
tered at the moment; ashamed of his weak¬ 
ness, he dashed the rising tear from his eye, 
and a frown again lowered on his countenance. 
The man meanwhile approached to tear the 
young lady from his embraces. Overpowered 
by his feelings, he could make no resistance ; 
but as he gloomingly released her from his hold, 
lie gave her a little miniature of himself, and 
with parting token of attachment, he imprint¬ 
ed the last kisses of a dying man upon her lips. 
On gaining the door, she turned around as if 
to gaze once more upon the object of her wid¬ 
owed love. He caught her eye as she retired 
—it was but lor a moment; the dungeon door 
swung back upon its hinges, and as it closed 
after her, informed him too surely that they 
had met for the last time on earth. 
Be a Whole Man. —The late John Joseph 
Gurney, whose memory is still fragrant among 
all good people, in writing a short letter of 
counsel to his sons at school, gave them this 
sententious injunction : “Be a whole man to 
everything. At Latin, be a whole man to 
Latin ; at geometry or history, be a whole 
man to geometry or history; at play, be a 
whole man at play ; at washing and dressing, 
be a whole man at washing and dressing ; 
above all, at meeting (that is at church) be a 
whole man to worship.” Nearly all the dif¬ 
ferences among men as to force and influence 
of character, are to be attributed to the ob¬ 
servance or neglect of the spirit of this max¬ 
im. A man may have only a thimble full of 
brains, yet if he will put them all at the ob¬ 
ject lie has in hand, and only at that, it is 
wonderful what he will effect. Momenium in 
physics, properly directed, will drive a tallow 
candle through an inch board; just so will 
concentration—being a whole man at what¬ 
ever one undertakes -— causes even a poor 
weakling to leave his mark upon his age. 
Liverpool, it is said, is so called from the 
fact that in former times there was a pool on 
the spot where the old city now stands, which 
the liver, a bird shaped like a stork, frequent¬ 
ed. There are none of these birds in England 
now, and some think the story a fable ; but 
the municipal crest of the city is a liver to the 
present day—which is embroidered on every 
policeman’s coat and worn on the left arm of 
every cabman. 
