MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
♦ t (X 
OOH0UCTSD BY AZILE, 
r> M *^ f* \ 0 • \ m f \ „ ,TN\ J"\* f * k *“ * 4 * » d f * k f *" 
SONG. 
Meet me by the running brook, 
Where the drooping willows grow, 
Meet me iu the shady uook. 
Where the silvery waters flow. 
Friends we loved are broken-hearted, 
Smiles have flown and tears have started 
Since the time when we last parted, 
In the days of long ago. 
Meet me when the starlight p’ays 
O'er the wavelets bright and low ; 
Tell me of our youthful days, 
■E’er the heart knew pain or woe. 
Joy will come to charm or leave us, 
Lingering hope will soon deceive us, 
Life had nothing dark to grieve us. 
In the days of long ago. 
BEAUTIFUL OLD AGE. 
Mrs. Sigourney, in her book, “Past Me¬ 
ridian,” just published, gives the following 
charming picture of contented ard virtuous 
old age: 
“ I once knew an aged couple, who for 
more than sixty years had dwelt in one home, 
and with one heart. Wealth was not theirs, 
nor the appliances of luxury, yet the plain 
house in which they had so long lived was 
their own. Humble in every appointment, 
that they might be free from debt, they were 
respected by people in the highest positions, 
for it was felt that they set a right example 
in all thiDgs. Every little gift or token of 
remembrance from friends—and all who knew 
them were friends — awakened the fresh 
warmth of gratitude. Though their portion 
of this world’s goods was small, benevolence, 
beiDg inherent in their nature, found frequent 
expression. Alway they had by them some 
book of slight expense, but of intrinsic value, 
to be given as a guide to the young, the igno¬ 
rant, or the tempted. Cordials also, and sim¬ 
ple medicines for debility, or incipient disease, 
they distributed to the poor—for they were 
skillful in extracting the spirit of heaUh from 
herbs, and a part of the garden, cultivated by 
their own hands, was a dispensary. Kind, 
loving words had they for all—the fullness of 
their heart’s content brimming over in bright 
drops to refresh those around. 
« That venerable old man, and vigorous, his 
temples slightly silvered, when more than four 
score years had visited them, how freely flow¬ 
ed forth the melody of his leading voice, amid 
the sacred strains of public worship! His 
favorite tunes of Mear and Old Hundred, 
wedded to these simple, sublime words, 
'While shepherds watched their flocks by night.’ 
and— 
‘Praise God, from whom a!l blessings flow,’ 
-seem even now to fall sweetly, as they did up¬ 
on my childish ear. These and similar ancient 
harmonies, mingled with the devout prayers 
that morning and eveniug hallowed his home 
and its comforts ; she the loved partner of his 
days, being often sole auditor. Thus, in one 
censer, ro33 the praise, which every day seem¬ 
ed to deepen. God’s goodness palled not on 
their spirits, because it had been long contin¬ 
ued. They rejoiced that it was ‘ new every 
morning, and fresh every evening.’ 
“ By the clear wood fire in winter, sat the 
, aged wife, with serene brow, skillfully busy in 
* preparation or repair of garments as perfect 
neatness and economy dictated, while by the 
evening lamp her bright knitting-needles 
moved with quickened zeal, and she remem¬ 
bered the poor child, or wasted invalid, in 
some cold apartment, for which they were to 
furnish a substantial covering. 
“ In the latter years of life, their childless 
abode was cheered by the presence of a young 
orphan relative. She grew under their 
shadow with great delight, conforming with 
pliant heart to their wishes, and to the pattern 
of their godly simplicity. When they were 
seated together, she read to them such’ books 
as they chose, and treasured their Christian 
counsel. Her voice in the morning was to 
them as the carol of the lark ; they seemed to 
live again a new life in her young life. She 
■was to them ‘ like the rose of Sharon and the 
lily of the valley.’ 
“ Love for the sweet helplessness of unfold¬ 
ing years seemed to increase with their own 
advancing age. Little children, who knew 
by instinct where love was, would draw near 
them, and stand lamb-like at their side. Thus 
they passed on, until more than ninety years 
had been numbered to them. They were not 
weary of themselves, or of each other, or this 
beautiful world. Neither was time weary of 
bringing them letter by letter, the full alpha¬ 
bet of serene happiness, and when extreme 
old age added the Omega, they were well ed¬ 
ucated to begin the bliss of eternity.” 
Love Me, Love my Book. — “ In all that 
she did, Queen Margaret obtained and merited 
the approbation of her husband. From her 
Malcolm, who, though rough, was naturally 
almsgiving, and pious. He loved Margaret 
passionately, despised that which she con¬ 
demned, and prized whatever she held dear.— 
Though he was himself ignorant and careless 
of literary knowledge, he liked to see and hold 
the books in which his more Ic-arned wife read 
and prayed. So precious did he consider 
whatever her hands touched, that he would 
often call in a jeweller, and bid him adorn 
with gold and gems some favorite volume 
which he then carried himself to the Queen. 
If he heard that there was any of these books 
which she prized more highly than the rest, 
he, too, liked to have it oftener in his hands, 
and would kis3 it repeatedly. Those men of 
the middle ages, who now seem so rude and 
stern, felt sufficiently secure of their own man- 
. liness not to exclude simple love and tender¬ 
ness from their hearts.” 
THE LITTLE WAGON. 
Passing alorg one of the crowded thor¬ 
oughfares of t Me city, a few days since, we 
o served a couple, in middle age, respectfully 
clad, and altogether docent in appearance, 
drawing a littlo wagon, such as is used for 
children. Evidently they were from the 
country; and they had just purchased this 
“ bauble coach ” for their child at home.— 
They were not ashamed to l>e seen taking it 
home Lbeaise ves. A>h lined ! not 'hey. Not 
many of the rich merchants, who sweep by 
them, elated by some good bar gun they have 
just made, feel as proud aid happy as those 
parents in possession of that object upon 
which they look with so much complacency. 
It is doubtful which would be the happier, 
they or the child who is to ride iu it A 
wed thy citV.n informed that his boy would 
like a wagon, despatches an order for one to 
Berrian or W indie, by Kitty the nurse, or 
George the butler. Asuperfluous live dollar 
bill has made the purchase, ard the whole 
transaction w.is forgotten as so in as it was 
done. Not to with our worthy friends in 
humble med'oerity. They have been wishing 
for a long time to obtain what they knew 
would gratify their little child. Tney have 
feared that it w T as beyond their means. But 
they have, denied themselves a little here and 
a little there, and at length they have accom¬ 
plished the thing which they desired. A 
thousand fold more delight have they .in their 
purchase, than a rich man ever knew in draw¬ 
ing a check to meet the wishes of a fastidious 
son. It wa3 bought with the coinage of the 
heart, with the contrivances and sacrifices of 
love, and a thousand blessings are sure to go 
with it. 
We observed that these parents were 
dressed in mourning. The craped hat and 
the black bonnet told us that they had lost a 
relative — perhaps a child. Yes—so imagina¬ 
tion would have it—they have just buried 
one out of the nursery group. Like ether 
parents, similarly bereaved, they reproach 
themselves that ’they did no more for their 
child while it was yet with them. Perhaps 
it was a weakling. They wish now they had 
given it more of air; and tried other means 
and methods to give it strength. Bug it died. 
All they could give it was a grave. They 
mean to be more gentle, more careful and 
more kind to tie living. Blessings go with 
the little wagon! 
We follow it to its destination. We catch 
the joy which it awakens iu a whole house¬ 
hold. We see the pillow nicely arranged, the 
gleesome baby snugly deposited, and the hap¬ 
py mother standing at the door aud following 
the equipage on its first turn-out. We are 
young again ourselves. Cowper’s lines to his 
mother about his own little coach come back 
to us. We see the green lane, and smell the 
sweet clover, and hear the happy birds. The 
little wagon has carried our memory, imagi¬ 
nation and heart, away from noise and crowds, 
to moral tranquility and domestic love. Lit¬ 
tle did the honest pair imagine, as they were 
drawing along their new purchase, what an 
effect they were producing on the tired and 
jaded heart of one of the throng by whom 
they were jostled. Blessings be with them 
and their nestling, for they have dropped a 
blessing on a stranger out of their little 
wagon.— Evangelist. 
Female Nobility. —A writer in Chambers’ 
London Journal thus beautifully paints true 
female nobility: “ The woman,” says he,“ poor 
and ill-clad as she may be, who balances her 
income and expenditure, who toils and sweats 
in unrepining mood among her well-trained 
children, and presents them, morning and eve¬ 
ning, cs offerings of love, in rosy health and 
perfect cleanliness—is the most exalted of her 
sex. Before her shall the proudest dame 
bow her jewelled head, and the blis3 of a 
happy heart shall dwell with her forever. If 
there is one prospect dearer than another to 
bend the proud and inspire the broken heart¬ 
ed—it is for a smiling wife to meet her hus¬ 
band at the door with his host of happy chil¬ 
dren. How it stirs up the tired blood of an 
exhausted man when he hears the rush of ma¬ 
ny feet upon the staircase—when the crow and 
carol of their young voices mix in glad con¬ 
fusion—and the smallest mounts or sinks into 
his arms amidst a mirthful shout.” 
Ladies on Horseback.— If there is on 
earth a more fascinating and bewitching sight 
than a lovely wojnan in the drawing-room or 
boudoir, it is that same lovely woman—or in 
fact, any other lovely woman—on horseback ; 
taking it for granted, of course, that she 
knows how to ride, and sit upon the noble an¬ 
imal, proud of its glorious burden, like a muse 
taking an airy stroll through ether upon the 
back of Pegasus, and not shivering and 
shrinking at every step, like a wooden doll, 
fearful of falling to pieces. Female equestri¬ 
anism is one of the most exquisite luxuries of 
a high state of civilization ; an exercise in 
which every source of healthful and pleasura¬ 
ble emotion is brought into play, not only for 
the moment but in all the movements and oc¬ 
cupations of the body, and which presents the 
bewildering outline and undulating beauty of 
the female form in all its ravishing and in¬ 
toxicating perfection.— Philadelphia Times. 
Youth and Age. —The events of youth are 
stamped in the memory of age, as primeval 
footmarks made iu clay are preserved in stone. 
No one can learn to think by getting rules 
for thinking, but by getting materials for 
thought. 
Wisdom is the olive branch that springeth 
from the heart, bloometh on the tongue, and 
beareth fruit in the actions. 
Fashionable society generally has but two 
faults — first, iu being hollow-headed ; and 
secondly hollow-hearted. 
True joy is a sincere and sober emotion ; 
and the cheerfulness which it promotes in 
others, extends by sympathy to itself. 
♦ O/iYV 
(ujjoice 
ami. 
Per Moore’s Rural New-YorVer, 
AN AUTUMNAL SKETCH. 
I riAVK longed for Autumn—those gorgeous dies 
AH interwoven with artistic ca/e— 
Her foliage sparkling through a tinting rare, 
In beauty blending with the evening ; kie? ; 
Where azure, gold, or g owing crimson, vies 
With countless huos that in their splendor glare ! 
For then thou dost a regil pre-eace wear, 
Ye, hazy, smiling. Indian summer days ! 
When mild winds rustle through the bended maize, 
And teeming vines their purple clusters bear. 
Emotions grand, those ling’ring glories raise— 
The mellow shas’os that dying iulumn flings— 
But mingled with delight, while yet it briugs 
Its leaves and fruits,—all beauteous aud fair 
Grand Rapids, Midi. 1855. U. W. L. 
Wr ttea for Mooro’s Rnrft! Npw Yorker. 
ENGLAND. 
England is a great country; groat in firms 
and present power—m’ghiy in the recollec¬ 
tion of past achievements—renowned for the 
eloquence of her orators, the wisdom of her 
philosophers, and the profound sagacity of 
her statesmen,—venerable for her free consti¬ 
tution, which she has nurtured aud maintain¬ 
ed through the darkness of the middle centu¬ 
ries, securing justice to the peasant and the 
noble, and protection to the outlawed fugitive 
from the despotic oppression of other lauds, 
liar language, which is widely spread through¬ 
out the world, i3 adorned with a literature 
that has never been surpassed. Yet there 
was a time when England weighed as a feath¬ 
er in the scale, which determined the power 
and influence of nations. Inhabited only by 
barbarians, she 3tood amid the surges of the 
Atlantic, almost unknown, until the restless 
ambition of the Caesars made her the outpost 
of their western dominion. And that island 
which was then regarded as an unimportant 
and almost useless appendage to the Roman 
Empire, has been exalted to a power which 
the Eternal City, in the height of her glory, 
never equaled. 
Stretching her Briarean arms to the utter¬ 
most parts of the earth, she has grasped the 
treasures of the Indies, the gold of Brazil, the 
silver of Peru, and the sparkling diamonds of 
Hindcstan. Empires have laid their wealth 
at her feet, and proud kings paid her tribute. 
Borne on by her hardy sons, her flag has 
waved victorious in every clime, and land and 
ocean have witnessed her terrible blows for 
the protection of her rights and the prostra¬ 
tion of her rivals. 
The early history of England was marked 
by the invasion of the fierce tribes of the 
North, and the partial conquests of the Sax¬ 
ons and the Normans. Yet through all this 
the Island was never, for any great length of 
time, subjected to foreign dominion. She 
preserved her independence, while the blend¬ 
ing of the different races formed a stock which 
was destined to be renowned as the Anglo- 
Saxon. 
We may date the prosperity of Englaud 
from the reign of Alfred. Under his wise 
administration, schools were founded, good 
laws made and executed, literature, the arts 
and sciences encouraged and supported, a na¬ 
vy built for the protection of the coast, aud 
a general degree of prosperity attained. 
It is well to review the history of powerful 
empires—to examine the causes which were 
conducive to their success, and the circum¬ 
stances that tended to form the character of 
their people. When we see an island situated 
within sight of powerful nations, and close 
to the shores of a wide-spread continent, 
successively invaded and conquered by differ¬ 
ent people, yet, still preserving a perfect in¬ 
dependence, and a government of its own, 
steadily rising in importance for centuries, 
extending its commerce and increasing its 
power, until it becomes the merchant of the 
world and the arbitress of nations, we natu¬ 
rally think that fortune has greatly befriended 
her, and turned all circumstances to her ad¬ 
vantage. And so it has been with England. 
Fortune has been her friend. No statesman 
could predict the events which have contribu¬ 
ted to her greatness or mark the career that 
she has followed. The peculiar character of 
the people has kept the nation steadily on its 
course, until it has almost reached the sum¬ 
mit of greatness and renown. 
In studying the history of nations, we find 
that many important events which at the time 
of their occurrence were considered unfortu¬ 
nate, have, in the end, proved to be directly 
the reverse. For a long time the English, 
under various princes, attempted to secure an 
extensive foothold upon the continent, and at 
one time had conquered nearly the whole of 
France. But in the end they were defeated. 
Had they succeeded, the Capital would have 
been transferred to Paris, and England would 
have become hut a dependent possession. 
Driven within the limits of their own 
island, they very naturally engaged in com¬ 
merce. Gradually it was extended. They 
took possession of the ocean which washes all 
lands and encircles the globe. They drew to 
themselves the trade of the world. They 
planted colonies in distant lands, and formed 
vast empires in Asia and America. In war 
thsy wrested the colonial possessions of their 
neighbors from them, pro-ccted their own 
coasts by a line of battle ships, and rained 
do vn blows thick and stroi g upon their ere- 
mits. That character which brought them 
alorg so steadily stiil maintains them iu un- 
diminished strength. Their empire stretches 
round the earth, and they 8‘and unrivalled 
among the nations, except by one, and that 
one, their own y< urg and vigorous offspring. 
I’eiinton, N. Y., 1855 0. F. W. 
THE BEAUTY OF CHEERFULNESS. 
< is it not worse than vain to clo-e our eyes 
Upon the azure sky ami gol' tn light, 
Because the tempest cloud doth sometimes rise, 
And glorious day must darken into night? ” 
It i3 a sad thing to be peevish, fretful and 
discontented. There are' times and seasons 
when it is almost impossible to rally a re¬ 
markable flow of spirits, even when there is 
little or no cause for despondency. But 
these, with the great, majority of the human 
f roily, are, or should be, few and far between. 
There are some persons who are constantly 
making themselves unhappy, and without rea¬ 
son, they see nothing but the dark side of life, 
and close their eyes and their hearts to the 
blight. They get up in the morning out of 
humor, not only with themselves, but with all 
mankind; and whenever they appear, or in 
whatever circle they have power or influence, 
they chill, discourage and repulse. They per¬ 
mit themselves to indulge in idle jealousies, 
foolish fears and vague apprehensions, and 
even if prosperous for the present, they pre¬ 
dict some calamity in the future, and thu3 
prove themselves morbidly infirm, and, ia fact, 
insensible to the blessings of Providence.— 
The effvct is not only to distress themselves, 
but to annoy and disquiet others. They are 
in the moral world what a passing cloud is in 
the physical. ’They cast a gloom over every¬ 
thing for the moment, and serve to drive 
away the sunny influences which are so admira¬ 
bly calcu’ated to brighten the pathway of life. 
In what happy contrast is the cheerful 
spirit—the individual whose heart is full of 
kindness and generosity, who is ever ready to 
say a good word or to do a benevolent act, 
whose daily life may be likened to a constant 
beam of sunshine! He may be disturbed 
and depressed for a moment, but it will only 
be for a moment. A shadow may pass over 
his brew, and silence may seal his lips, but 
his uatural buoyancy will soon acquire the 
ascendant, aud hi3 joyous laugh aud cheerful 
smile will soon be heard and seen agaiD. If 
he cannot say anything kindly or complimen¬ 
tary, he has the good sense and manly feelirg 
to keep his peace. If he cannot praise he 
will not blame. Scandal has no charms for 
him, aud malignity is utterly foreign to his 
disposition, lie constantly tries to gladden 
and encourage, to cheer the desponding aud 
unfortunate, to assist and relieve to the ex¬ 
tent of his ability. The head of a household, 
or the master spirit of an extensive establish¬ 
ment, possesses, to a considerable extent, the 
means of making or marring the comfort and 
happiness of all who look up to, depend up¬ 
on, or feel the exercise of his influence. Im¬ 
agine a peevish, fretful, and dissatisfied indi¬ 
vidual under these circumstances ! His very 
appearance creates a shudder, for he is certain 
to say something harsh, cold or uncivil, and 
thus to irritate feelings, trample upon sensi¬ 
bilities, or stimulate prejudices and passions. 
He is miserable himseif, and, according to the 
old adage, misery love3 company. He moves 
about like a troubled spirit, and instead of a 
smile, a cheering word and an encouraging 
look, a frown, a rebuke or a grumble are cer¬ 
tain to characterize his progress. IIow much 
the better, the gentler, the milder, the more 
generous policy. IIow beautiful are cheer¬ 
fulness, benevolence and appreciation under 
these circumstances. 
In the one case the heart shrinks back, the 
feelings revolt, and the sympathies turn away; 
while in the other the cheek glows with pleas¬ 
ure, the fountains of emotions are filled to 
overflowing, and a cordial welcome aud an in¬ 
voluntary blessing are sure to attend, like in¬ 
visible angels, the coming and the presence of 
the cheerful, the kind-hearted, the apprecia¬ 
ting and the good.—Phil. Inquirer. 
PITHY SENTIMENTS. 
The nerve which never relaxes, the eye 
which never blenches, the thought which nev¬ 
er wanders—these are the masters of victory. 
To some men it is indispensable to be worth 
money, for without it they are worth nothing. 
True greatness is not greater for the praises 
of men. It is what it is in spite of them. 
What is ours, even to life, is hers we love; 
but the secrets of our friends, imparted in con¬ 
fidence, are not ours. 
. There is no fear of knowing too much, 
though there is great fear of practicing too 
little. The most doing man shall be the most 
knowing man. 
Love is the fever of the soul; passion is the 
delirium of that fever. 
The eye is an index of the character.— 
Physiognomy reveals the secret of the heart. 
Affection, like Spring flowers, breaks through 
the most frozen ground at last; and the heart 
which seeks for another heart to make it hap¬ 
py, will not seek in vain. 
Harmless mirth is a cordial against the con- 
. sumption of the spirits. 
He who pretends to be everybody’s partic¬ 
ular friend, is nobody’s. 
Four Good Habits. — There were four 
habits a wise and good man earnestly recom¬ 
mended in his counsels, and also by his own 
example, and which he considered essentially 
necessary for the management of temporal 
concerns ; these are Punctuality, Accuracy, 
Steadiness, and Dispatch. AY r ithout the first 
of these, time is wasted ; without the second, 
mistakes the most hurtful to our own credit 
and interest and that of others may be com¬ 
mitted ; without the fourth, opportunities of 
great advantage are lost which it is impossi¬ 
ble to recall. 
THE HEAD NOTHINGS, 
There is throughout this country, as 
through most oihers, a very numerous and 
highly influential party, which is destined to 
work wonders, not only at the coming elec¬ 
tion, but at a great many coming elections, 
and not only oa elections but upon many 
other phases of national li e 
Th s nurrerous party may be termed the 
Read Nothings, ard their platform is plain 
and simp’e, as it mere y amounts in a greater 
or lesser degree, to ignoring the existence of 
all typography in every form. It is from this 
order that penitentiaries are stocked, jails 
filled, engine houses crowded with brutal loaf¬ 
ers, aud the anti-prohibition ranks enlarged. 
It is among the Read Nothings that apathy 
and indifference to every public duty is culti¬ 
vated, for it i 3 only by reading that a man at 
the present day can hope to be au courant or 
“posted up” oa the questions which are daily 
becoming of more and more importance, and 
which to neglect, will he like neglectirg the 
most sacred obligations. 
It may be objected that we Lave made mere 
ignorance of the art of readirg, or its neg¬ 
lect, a too decided source of evil. But is it 
not so ? AVe do not deny that there are le¬ 
gions of well-behaved, honest, industrious be¬ 
ings, who plod and vegetate onward without 
ever reading, and who in nowise belong to the 
daises above alluded to. But it is equally 
true that if a young man is to be kept from 
mischief, from vu’gar associates, and above all 
if it be hoped to form for him a rising mind 
which will some day give him social distinc¬ 
tion, it cannot be done mere effectually than 
by cultivating in him a taste for reading. 
What is a man at the present day who does 
not read the newspapers ? Is he. not an im¬ 
becile at the mercy of every one who chooses 
to give him an opinion or to warp his mind ? 
Is he not a social nonentity, and when, as oc¬ 
casionally happens, he is a man of wealth, or 
with a family, is he not—we ask ia sober 
calmness—a drawback, a dead weight and an 
anomaly ? 
And yet we have met with educated men 
who would tell you with a calm, simple smile 
that they never read the papers, or that they 
had no taste for reading at all, and this with 
as cool an air as if they were mentioning that 
they bad no taste for olives or tomatoes. In 
our humble opinion no man has a right to 
have no taste for reading—it is a duty which 
he owes to himself aud to those who educated 
him, and to the country which requires a cer¬ 
tain medium of mental ability from evqry one 
living in it. 
There is a variety of the Read Nothings 
who think that if they do read they are quite 
right iu being as one-sided as they please in 
their literary pursuits. Oue of these, on be¬ 
ing questioned in our hearing as to what con¬ 
stituted his favorite reading, replied “prose.” 
To him prose or poetry were two distinct 
forms of mental food, which, like the toma¬ 
toes and olives aforesaid, he was at perfect 
liberty to like or dislike. This is a free 
country. 
There is one branch of the Read Nothing 
order for whom—when they 3peak the truth 
—we have a sincere pity and sympathetic es¬ 
teem. These are the ones who would read if 
they had time. These last occupy a compul¬ 
sory place in the order, and they remind us of 
gentlemanly, well behaved lovers of liberty 
cast into an Italian prison in company with 
the mo3t desperate ruffians and “ outsiders.” 
These who have no time generally tly from the 
order at every opportunity, and it is m03t 
generally from these whose natural love of 
reading ha3 thus at first been checked and 
subsequently indulged, that the most intelli¬ 
gent literati have arisen .-~-Ph.il. Bulletin. 
Eloquent.— Prof. J. Russell Lowell, at the 
close of a recent lecture on Milton, said : 
“ The noise of those old warfares is hushed; 
the song of the Cavalier and the psalm of the 
Puritan are silent now ; the hand3 of the epis¬ 
copal adversaries no longer hold pen or croiser; 
they and their works are dust; b it he who 
loved truth more than life, who was faithful 
to the other world while he did his work in 
this; his seat is the great cathedral whose far 
echoing aisles are the Ages, whispering with 
the blessed feet of the saints, martyrs, and 
confessors of every clime and every creed ; 
whose bells sound only centnrial hours; about 
whose spire, crowned with the constellation of 
the cross, lo meaner birds than missioned 
angels hover ;—whose organ music is the va- 
riousstop3 of endless changes breathed through 
by endless good; whose choristers are the 
elect spirits of all time, that ever sing serene 
aud shining as morning stars, the ever renew¬ 
ed mystery of Creative Power.” 
Sixty feet of Daughters.— In the Half 
Century Sermon of Rev. Dr. Brace, of New¬ 
ington, Connecticut, a curious fact respecting 
the Edwards’ family is stated. Speaking of 
Air. Backus, one of his predecessors, he says : 
—“ His wife wa3 one of ten daughters, every 
one of whom is said to be six feet tall—mak¬ 
ing sixty feet of daughters, all of them strong 
in mind—children of Rev. Timothy Edwards, 
of East AVindsor.” That man who had sixty 
feet of daughters, and besides them one son 
who had more than sixty feet of intellect, 
must, according to the Psalmist’s view of 
things, have been a happy man. 
IIofefulness —True hope is based on en¬ 
ergy of character. A strong mind always 
hopes, and has always cause to hope, because 
it knows the mutability of human affairs, and 
how slight a circumstance may change the 
whole course of events. Such a spirit, too, 
rests upon itself; it is not confined to partial 
views, or to one particular object. Aud if at 
last all should be lost, it has saved itself—its 
own integrity and worth. 
There are beauties of character, which, 
like the night blooming Cereus, are closed 
against the glare and turbulence ot every-day 
life, aud bloom only in shade aud solitude, and 
beneath the quiet stars. 
