MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
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For Moore's Rural New-Yorfesr 
STUDY OF THE ANCIENT LANGUAGES. 
[Concluded from last week.] 
At present the case is reversed. French 
and German are to us what Latin and Greek 
were to the middle ageg. The whole mass of 
literary wealth possessed by our ancestors, 
forms but a part of our own treasures. The 
undue and misplaced cultivation of the Latin 
and Greek, must therefore be attributed to 
one of those errors which have come down 
from the “ dark ages,” when there was noth¬ 
ing else to read. Young minds are dazzled 
by the deceptive splendor which attaches it¬ 
self to the study of those aneient languages— 
the so called “ classical glory ” — and seek to 
obtain that species of distinction which hap¬ 
pens to be stamped with the approbation of 
mankind. If the scholars of the middle ages 
were to rise again and re-commence their ca¬ 
reer, they would probably smile to see us sub¬ 
missively learning the difficulties of a dead 
language, in order to read a chapter or a book 
here and there, when we can easily resort to 
the far better works now composed in our 
vernacular tongues. 
Some one has made the remark in favor of 
the classics, that they are easily comprehend¬ 
ed by the young, and at the same time accus¬ 
tom them to diligence and patience—qualities 
essential to every man, whatever be his voca¬ 
tion in future life. Without going into a 
discussion as to the truth of these statements 
(which in many eases I am very much inclin¬ 
ed to doubt,) I would merely ask whether 
there are no modern languages much more 
easily comprehended, or whether there are no 
mathematical studies far better calculated to 
call into play the faculties of the young mind, 
and to infuse into it all the excellent qualities 
which it is supposed to acquire from the 
study of the Greek and Latin. It should be 
borne in mind that the mere study of lan¬ 
guage is nothing but that of abstractions,— 
of declining and deriving—and to surmouat 
the obstacles of a language for the little 
amount of knowledge derived by the generali¬ 
ty of students from its literature, may be 
compared to the effort of that student who 
endeavored to state the propositions of Ge¬ 
ometry in metaphorical language. Classical 
teachers may uphold the ancient languages to 
any disproportionate extent they please ; but 
when they would have all, without discrimi¬ 
nation, make it one of their chief studies, we 
cannot but exclaim : — How absurd it is for 
the generality of students to spend one-third 
of their educational course in acquiring the 
dead languages, of which they know in the 
end but little, to the neglect of modern lan¬ 
guages, of which they learn nothing. 
With regard to the refinement of taste, and 
the culture of the imagination, which the 
classics are supposed to produce, I confess 
that no one, without an acquaintance with 
such authors as would offer him these advan¬ 
tages, could be reckoned a polished and well- 
educated man. But these refinements can be 
better obtained by the study of the English 
Classics. Who can estimate the treasures we 
possess in the mine of English poetry ? Where 
in the whole range of Grecian and Roman 
literature, can you show me a Pope, a Thom¬ 
son, a Coleridge, a Byron? —poets who 
have opened the school of nature, and taught 
us the language of the seasons, of the flowers, 
the brooks, the winds, and of almost every 
appearance in nature. Shall we then be re¬ 
quired to explore the depths of ancient founts, 
that we may tasts of them, when we can easily 
drink of the richer and more abundant fount¬ 
ains of modern literature? Milton equal* 
Homer in sublimity, and surpasses him in 
the choice of subject, added to which is the 
consideration that, in the moral of their 
works, the Paradise Lost far excels the Iliad. 
Siiakspeare alone is equal to all the Greek 
and Latin dramatists combined; for his works 
contain all the predominant excellencies which 
are to be found singly in theirs. English 
poetry presents every quality and excellence 
of which that art is susceptible, be it swast- 
nes3 or power of versification, depth or va¬ 
riety of feeling, beauty of imagery, or range 
of daring imagination. 
I may, perhaps, seem guilty of irreverence 
toward those great authors to whom we owe 
the wonderlul productions of genius and of 
art, when I declare that the ancient classics 
take up the place of more useful studies. We 
call to mind the multitude of benefits which 
the classics once conferred ou the human race. 
We are led to an implicit veneration of the 
classical writers by a sort of delusive splen¬ 
dor, in seeing a vast number of learned schol¬ 
ars within and without colleges cherishing 
and defending the cultivation of Latin and 
Greek. But while we feel sentiments of 
gratitude and obligation to those works, upon 
which oar men have reared their palaces of 
genius and art, we should remember that 
though the positive value of the productions 
of Greek and Roman genius remains the 
same, their relative value, when compared 
with the vastness of our treasures, is con¬ 
stantly falling. The “ stock ” bequeathed to 
us by the ancients has been so carefully im¬ 
proved, that the accumulated “ interest ” has 
already more than doubled the “ principal.” 
When, therefore, in the pursuit of knowledge, 
we entertain grateful feelings for the ancients, 
it should be nothing but feeling, and should 
not interfere with our action. “ NTothiDg,” 
says Sidney Smith, (and with his words I 
will close this essay,) “ nothing will do in the 
pursuit of knowledge but the blackest ingrat¬ 
itude ; the moment we have got up the ladder, 
we must kick it down ;—as soon as we have 
passed over the bridge, we must let it rot;— 
when we have got upon the shoulders of the 
ancients, we must look over their heads. The 
man who forgets the friend of hi3 childhood 
in reel life, i3 base ; but he who clings to the, 
props of hi3 childhood in literature, must be 
content to remain as ignorant as he wss 
when a child. His business is to forget, dis¬ 
own, and deny—to think himself above every 
thiDg which has been of use to him in time 
past—and to cultivate that exclusively from 
which he expects future advantage : in short, 
to do everything for the advancement of his 
knowledge which it would be infamous to do 
for the advancement of his fortune. If man¬ 
kind still derive advantages from classical 
literature proportionate to the labor they be¬ 
stow upon it, let their labor and their study 
proceed; but the moment we cease to read 
Latin and Greek for the solid utility we de¬ 
rive from them, it would be a very romantic 
application of human talents, to do so from 
any feeling of gratitude, and recollection of 
past service.” s. t. 
University of Rochester, 1855. 
IGNORANT TEACHERS FOR CHILDREN. 
“ There are certain fathers now-a-days,” 
says Plutarch, “ who deserve that men should 
spit upon them with contempt, for intrusting 
their children with unskillful teachers ; even 
those, who they are assured beforehand, are 
wholly incompetent for their work ; which is 
an error of like nature with that of the sick 
man, who, to please his friends, forbears to 
send for a physician that might save his life, 
and employ a mountebank, that quickly de¬ 
spatches him out of the world. Was it not of 
such that Crates spake, when he said that if 
he could get up to the highest place ia the 
city, he would lift up his voice, and thence 
make this proclamation :—‘ What mean you, 
fellow citizens, that you thus turn every stone 
to scrape wealth together, and take so little 
care of your children ; those to whom you 
must one day relinquish all ?’ ” 
“ Many fathers there are,” continues Plu¬ 
tarch, “ who so love their money and hate 
their children, that lest it should cost them 
more than they are willing to spare to hire a 
geod master for them, rather choose such per¬ 
sons to instruct their children as are of no 
worth—thereby beating down the market, 
that they may purchase a cheap ignorance.” 
He then relates the anecdote of Aris:ippu 3 , 
who, being asked by a sottish father for what 
sum he would teach his child, replied, “ a 
thousand drachms.” Whereupon the father 
cried out, “ Oh, I could buy a slave at that 
rate !” The philosopher replied, “ Do it then, 
and instead of one, thou shalt have two slaves 
for thy money—him whom thou buyest for 
one, and thy son for the other.” 
LEARN ALL YOU CAN. 
Never omit any opportunity to learn all 
you can. Sir Walter Scott said, even in a 
stage-coach, he always found somebody to tell 
him something he did not know before. Con¬ 
versation is generally more useful than books 
for purposes of knowledge. It is, therefore, a 
mistake to be morose or silent, when you are 
among persons whom you think ignorant, for 
a little sociability on your part will draw them 
out, aud they will be able to teach you some¬ 
thing, no matter how ordinary their employ¬ 
ment. Indeed, some of the most sagacious 
remarks are made by persons of this descrip¬ 
tion, respecting their particular pursuit. 
Hugh Miller, the famous Scotch geologist, 
owes not a little of his fame to observations 
made when he wa3 a journeyman stone mason, 
and working in a quarry. Socrates well said 
that there is but one good, which is knowledge, 
and one evil, which ia ignorance. Every grain 
of sand helps to make the heap. A gold dig¬ 
ger tak?s the smallest nuggets, and is not fool 
enough to throw them away, because he hopo 3 
to find a huge lump some time. So in acquir¬ 
ing knowledge, we should never despise an 
opportunity, however unpromising. If there 
is a moment’s leisure, spend it over a good or 
instructive talking with the first person you 
meet. 
TEACHERS’ INSTITUTES. 
Teachers’ Institutes I place very high. 
Assemblies of youth for mutual instruction, 
to be guided and directed by persons of ma¬ 
tured experience; of youDg men and women 
fresh from the doubts, and difficulties, and 
successes in the school-room, cannot but im¬ 
part a vigor and life corresponding. The 
compression of a week, or at farthest, two, is 
the most conducive to variety and spirit.— 
Add to this, the diversity of questions on the 
part of the pupils, the hints each throws out 
in governments, the ignorance each quietly 
discovers in himself when he measures himself 
by his neighbor ; the variety in methods 
shown by the instructors or lecturers, the 
numberless suggestions, that like precious 
seed are the parents of a thousand-fold prog¬ 
eny, and are worth a whole library of works 
on the glory of common schools. From these 
Institutes, the mind starts afresh w'ith a steady 
vigor, such as we picture the traveler on the 
burning day, as he leaves the cooling foun¬ 
tain.—!). B. Scott. 
THE OIL© SEIHKOmiL MOUSE 
usings. 
J. W. BARKER. 
WM. TTLL1NGHAST. 
CLING TO THE MIGHTY ONE. 
1. Amid a little clust’ring group Of bright green hills it stood, 
2. Near by the little brooklet sang, In summertime so sweet, 
3. And when old winter’s icy touch Had silvered o’er the stream, 
4. Adown the hillside, and adown, The busy sledges swept, 
5. These merry forms come flitting by, The sunlight of my heart, 
& arff ~w n — 
j_ ; r i i i—i—P i . @ -1 — 
- 1 ^—l_j-—,-—|-^ —0 - g) - -1 
In all its rude simplicity, Close by the beechen wood; 
In - vi - ting to its pebbly shore A dozen truant feet, 
And many a stately pile of snow Was heaped upon the green j 
Then tugging up the glassy steep, The shiv’ring urchins crept; 
And in each scene that fancy draws They bear an humble part; 
Chorus. 
r##- 
azari^: 
-9- -o- 
;_p* ip*, 
g ! T 1 _Jli | TB 
Cr.ixo to the Mighty One, 
Cling in thy grief ; 
Cling to the Holy One, 
He gives relief; 
Cling to the Gracious One, 
Cling in thy ps.in ; 
Cling to the Faithful One, 
He will sustain. 
Cling to the Living One, 
Cling in thy woe ; 
Cling to the Loving One, 
Through all below ; 
Cling to the Pardoning One, 
He speaketh peace ; 
Cling to the Healing One, 
Anguish shall cease. 
Cling to the Bleeding One 
Cling to His side ; 
Cling to the Risen One, 
In Him abide ; 
Cling to the Coming One, 
Hope shall arise 
Cling to the Reigning One, 
Joy lights thine eyes. 
Ps. Ixxxix. 19. 
Hob. xii. 11. 
Heb. i. 12. 
Ps. cxlvi. 9. 
Ps. cxvi. 5. 
Ps. lv. 4. 
1 The3s. v. 24. 
Ps. xxviii. 8. 
Heb. vii. 25. 
Ps. Ixxxvi. 7. 
1 John iv. 16. 
Rom. viii. 38, 39. 
13. iv. 7. 
John xiv. 27. 
Exod. xv. 26. 
Ps. cxivii. 3. 
1 John i. 7. 
John xx. 27. 
Rom. vi. 9. 
John xv. 4. 
Rev. xxii. 20. 
Titus ii. 13. 
Ps. xcvii. 1. 
Ps. xvi. 11. 
That old school house with windows four, And one above the shattered doot 
Which dashed the crystal waters wide, Whene’er they touched the sparkling tide! 
| .. ns? I 
_a~r—H: 
>— ®—o—o —, 
& -K0- GTW 
How swiftly flew the shining steel, Bound closely to the skater’s heel. 
Un - heeding (he in - cessdnt roar Of master pounding at the door. 
As brisk a band as e’er was seen. That sported on the school house green. 
[irji_L_nj i i m 
V-Ir-1— «— 
3-«— -0— ® 
- - & - —- 
—-"Sjr- 
d— at —JLo- 
That old school house with windows four. And one above the shattered door. 
■Which dashed the crystal waters wide. Whene’er they touched the sparkling tide. 
— T - - _—- 8 
_a- z^-9-^zfgi j=r^=r-^ >: zeja tf 
How swiftly flew the shining steel, Bound closely to the skater's heel. 
Un - heeding the in - cessant roar Of master pounding at the door. 
As brisk a band as e’ur was seen. That sported *n the school house green 
AN ACCOMPLISHED BLIND MAN. | 
A French paper gives aa account of a 
water-mill, in the hamlet of Oliseme, near 
Chartres, built entirely by a blind man, with¬ 
out either assistance or advice from any one. 
The masonry, carpenter’s work, roofing, stairs, 
paddle-wheels, cogs, in a word, all the machi¬ 
nery pertaining to the mill, h«s been made, 
put up and set in motion by him alone. He 
has also made his own furniture. When the 
water is low and the mill does not work, our 
blind miller becomes joiner, and also a turner, 
on a lathe of his own invention, and so he 
makes all manner of utensils, and pretty toy 
wind-mills for the juveniles. He lives quite 
alone, sweeps his own room, and cooks his 
own dinner ; his mother, who has fifteen chil¬ 
dren to care for, lives a mile off; and doe3 not 
trouble her head about “ her blind boy,” for 
“ he earns his bread now,” she says, “ and 
does not want her.” In 1S52 this blind mil¬ 
ler was awarded with a medal by the agricul¬ 
tural society of the arrondissement, for a ma¬ 
chine serving the double purpose of winnow¬ 
ing corn and separating the best grains from 
the common sort. 
EPIDEMICS AT NIGHT. 
Epidemics having lorg been observed to 
rage with particular fury during the night, 
the Westminster Review gives the following 
simple explanation : 
It is at night that the stream of air nearest 
the ground must always be the most charged 
with the particles of animated matter given 
out from the skin, and deleterious gases, such 
as carbonic acid, the product cf respiration, 
and the sulphuretted hydrogen, the product of 
the sewers. In day, gases and vaporous sub¬ 
stances of all kinds rise into the 1 air by the 
refraction of the heat; at night when the re¬ 
fraction leaves them they fall by an increase 
of gravity, if imperfectly mixed with the at¬ 
mosphere, while the gases evolved during the 
night, instead of ascendiDg, remain at nearly 
the same level. It is known that carbonic 
acid gas at a low temperature, partakes so 
nearly of the nature of a fluid that it may be 
poured out of one vessel into another; it 
rises at the temperature at which it is ex¬ 
haled from the lungs, but its tendency is tow¬ 
ard the floor, or the bed of the sleeper, in cold 
and unventilated rooms. 
Light and Sound.— Sound passes through 
the air with a moderate and known velocity ; 
light passes almost instantaneously. If, then' 
two distant points be visible from each other! 
and a gun be fired at night from one of them! 
an observer at the other, noting by a stop¬ 
watch the time at which the Hash is seen, and 
then at which the report is heard, can tell by 
the number of intervening seconds how far 
apart the points are, knowing how far the 
sound travels in a second. Sound moves 
about 1,950 feet per second in dry air, with 
the temperature at the freezing point, 32°.— 
For higher or lower temperature, add or sub¬ 
tract 1 feet for each degree. 
Labor is on8 of the greatest elements of 
society—the great substantial interest on 
which all men depend. 
THE MOON NOT INHABITED, 
Dr. Scoresby, in an account that he has 
given of some recent observations made with 
the Earl of Rosse’s telescope, says :—“ With 
■ respect to the moon, every object on its sur¬ 
face of 100 feet was distinctly to be seen ; and 
he had no doubt that, under very favorable 
circumstances, it would be so with objects 60 
feet in height. On its surface, were craters 
of extinct volcanoes, rocks and masses of 
stones almost innumerable. He had no 
doubt that if such a building as he was then 
in were upon the surface of the moon, it would 
be rendered distinctly visible by these instru¬ 
ments. But there were no signs cf habita¬ 
tions such as curs—no vestiges of architec¬ 
ture remain to show that the moon is, or ever 
was, inhabited by a race of mortals similar to 
ourselves- It presented no appearance which 
could lead to the supposition that it contain¬ 
ed anything like the green fields and lovely 
verdure of this beautiful world of ours. There 
was no water visible — not a sea or a rivulet, 
or even the measure of a reservoir for supply¬ 
ing town or factory—all seemed desolate.” 
Ancient and Modern Purple.— The city 
of Tyre was famous in ancient times for dye¬ 
ing silk purple. It was a badge of power 
and wealth, as monarchs and rich men only 
could buy it. It was, however, somewhat 
different from what is now known by the 
name of purple, it being a deep crimson, like 
clotted blood, while the modern purple is a 
blue tinged with red. It is dyed on silk in 
the plum vat, just in the same manner as 
upon cotton. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GRAMMATICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 32 letters. 
My 18, 14, 9, 24, 29, 3, 17, 4, 22, S, 6, 19, 27, 
26, 2, 10 is one of the subdivisions of verbs. 
My IS, 32, 21, 27, 81, 22, 12, 9 is one of the 
classes of substantives. 
My 17, 1, 11, 21, 13 varies the form of a verb. 
Mv 6, 14, 22, 16 is to measure poetry. 
My 5 ends three of the general divisions of 
grammar. 
My 26, 20, 28, 19, 25, 24, 27, 26, 2, 28 defines 
a class of verbs in respect to time, 
lly 15 commences one of the general divisions 
of grammar. 
My 12, 18, 6, 30 belongs to nouns and pro¬ 
nouns. 
My 7 is a letter in one of the articles. 
My whole is a proposition that no writer or 
speaker should lose sight of. 
£§p Answer next week. 
CHARADE. 
My first is a blessing and comfort thro’ life, 
And smaller, you’ll own, is my second ; 
The whole ’samisfortune that admits no relief— 
None greater I ever heard reckoned. 
Answer next week. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma in No. 303: 
Russian America. 
Answer to Mathematical Question in No. 303: 
The first had 20; the second 90; the third 
100. The sum of all was 210. 
QUESTIONS FOR SELF-EXAMINATION. 
Do I believe that my body will soon die, 
but that my soul will live forever ? 
Do I believe that my conduct here will fix 
my condition hereafter ? 
What are my prospects for eternity ? 
Do I daily seek the enlightening, guiding, 
and sanctifying influences of the Holy Ghost? 
Do I trust in the atonement of Christ ex¬ 
clusively for present and eternal salvation ? 
Do I now know my sins forgiven ? if not, 
what is the cause or hindrance ? 
What induced me to join the church ? 
Do I value church membership as a nrivi- 
lege ? 
Do I recommend or dishonor Christianity 
by my eonduct ? 
Do I pray regularly for my ministers, and 
the church of God ? * 
Do I make every effort to attend both Sun¬ 
day and week-day services, the table of the 
Lord, and the prayer meeting ? 
Do I show piety at home, by my solicitude 
for the welfare of all around, delight in pri¬ 
vate and family prayer, searching the Scrip¬ 
tures, and religious conversation? 
Do I support the cause of God as the Lord 
hath prospered me ? 
Am I anxious for a revival of religion ? 
Have I been the means of bringing one 
stranger to the house of God, recovering one 
backslider from the error of his ways, or ad¬ 
ding one member to the church during the 
present year ?.; 
Am I willing to give prayerful diligence to 
induce one or more persons to seek the salva¬ 
tion of their souls, and to unite themselves 
with the church ? 
Why should I Give ?—'Where God is for¬ 
gotten, it is pitiful to see how riches harden 
the heart of him who gains them. Some¬ 
times the man who was liberal while he was 
poor, becomes niggardly as he becomes weal¬ 
thy. The tendency of gain is to nourish sel¬ 
fishness if the hand that bestows it is over¬ 
looked, and the thirst of selfishness can never 
be shaken. The reservoir of the covetous 
never overflows. Recognizing no obligation 
he yields to no claim. A man of this sort 
once said :—“ Others never give to me, why 
should I give to others?” Infatuated man! 
is there none that ever gives to thee ? What 
hast thou that thou hast not received ? Who 
gave thee reason, life, success? Who pros¬ 
pered thy plans ? Who gave thee power to 
get wealth? Who has kept thy dwelling 
safe? Who has warded off from thee a thou¬ 
sand calamities which have overtaken thy 
fellows? And art thou indebted to none— 
has none a right to thy bounty ? Wilt thou 
rob God? Shall he have no share of what is 
his own ? 
Dead Theatre Actors.— It is surprising 
the amount of praise and the number of friends 
which distinguished stage performers receive 
and enjoy. It seems impossible to show them 
enough attention while living, but when dead 
or dying, how are they deserted ! One of the 
leading New York journals says, that when 
the projector and builder of the Broadway 
Theatre died, religions people, and not Thes¬ 
pians or stage-lovers, attended his funeral._ 
And another New York York paper, in a 
notice of the death of T. G. Booth, 1 a great 
comedian, at Toronto, Canada, August 18th, 
says, that his remains were brought for inter¬ 
ment to New York city, hi3 birth p see, and 
that at the performances of bis funeral cere¬ 
monies, there was an almost u ter absence of 
all members or admirers of the theatrical pro¬ 
fession. Strange, yet how true the adage,_ 
“the world will love in life and forsake'in 
death!” 
Near the Goal. —To the privileged one 
who is surely near the goal, the noise and tur¬ 
moil of life have passed away. The hopes it 
once inspired have long since departed/ He 
looks on infancy and childhood with a placid 
smile, and says, “ I shall soon know what the 
childhood of a new existence ison youth, 
and says, “I shall soon put on immortal 
youth on manhood, and says, “ I shall soon 
attain to the stature of a perfect man in 
Christ Jesus. O, to Him who hath loved 
me, and hath given himself for me, to Him be 
glory now and evermore !” 
“ Only waiting till tlie angels 
Open wide the mystic gate, 
At whose feet I long have lingered, 
Weary, poor, and desolate. 
Even now I hear the footsteps, 
And their voices far away ; 
If they eall me I am waiting, 
Only waiting to obey.” 
Sincere repentance is never too late, but 
late repentance is never sincere. 
