MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
369 
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MASTER IN HIS SCHOOL-ROOM. 
A teacher must never be mastered, nor 
discomfitted, in his own school-room. He 
ought to be doubly guarded against issuing 
an order that he cannot enforce, for, when he 
does require anything to be done, if he fails 
to command obedience, he is lost—discipline 
can no longer be maintained, and his persist¬ 
ence in teaching in that district will result in 
a lamentable failure. On the ether hand, if 
he maintains his authority, and rules his pu¬ 
pils kindly but firmly, never flinching, and 
yet never inflicting unnecessary punishment, 
the school will be both a pleasant and a pro¬ 
fitable one. Pupils entertain no respect for 
a teacher whose authority they set at defiance 
with impunity. 
We remember a teacher in a New England 
school, once placed in a tryirg situation, but 
whose tact and good management extricated 
him without difficulty. The district had pre¬ 
viously been somewhat noted for difficulty of 
management, and during the winter referred 
to, there were in attendance many young men, 
any one of whom was physically superior to 
the teacher. He was an earnest and zealous 
instructor, and strove diligently and with 
general success to do his duty and secure the 
good opinion both of parents and children. 
One pleasant afternoon, having rung the bell 
for school, three or four of the lads whom he 
had observed playing outside neglected to 
come in ; and, when a messenger was sent to 
them, ran away, and did not present them¬ 
selves until next day. This flagrant breach 
of the rules of school the teacher deemed it 
his duty to punish, and all except one of them 
submitted to the discipline. He, however, 
resisted the teacher’s authority, and of course 
was much more severely dealt with than the 
others. This roused the ire of an older 
brother attending the school, who, with two 
or three companions, concocted a scheme to' 
put the teacher out of the house next day.— 
A neighbor who heard of it very kindly in¬ 
formed the teacher on his way to school next 
morning of the plot, but the latter merely re¬ 
marked that probably no trouble would occur. 
He called the school together at the usual 
hour, and proceeded to hear the classes read. 
After this preliminary exercise wa3 ended, he 
proceeded to state to the scholars in a very 
deliberate and self-possessed manner, what he 
had heard, remarking, at the same time, that 
he had only done what his duty prompted ; 
that he regretted more than any of them could 
do the unpleasant necessity which called it 
forth, but that he must and should be master 
in his own school-room. He appealed to the 
better judgment of his pupils to sustain him 
in his course, and said he did not believe there 
was a young man present who would delibe¬ 
rately, and in his sober judgment, counte¬ 
nance for a moment any act of insubordina¬ 
tion. The result was that no demonstration 
was made ; the school went on quietly as 
usual, and a few persons who were cognizant 
of the threatened rebellion, and who were on 
the watch for its outbreak, were disappointed. 
The teacher continued several months subse¬ 
quently in the school, and those very youDg 
men who had threatened to set his authority 
at defiance, were afterwards zealous in up¬ 
holding it. 
A friend, talking with the teacher upon the 
subject at the close of the school, inquired 
how he would have proceeded in case half a 
dozen of the large scholars had made the at¬ 
tempt to put him out of the schoolroom ? 
“ I had little fear of their attempting it,” 
he said ; “ I addressed them calmly before the 
time had arrived for a demonstration, and be¬ 
fore tbeir blood was up ; and I was confident 
of being able to reason them into obedience. 
Besides they were somewhat taken aback at 
my broaching the subject, or in other words, 
• taking time by the forelock.’ But,” he ad¬ 
ded, “ I was first at the school house that 
morning, and placed a staff out of sight to 
them, but convenient to my own grasp, suffi¬ 
cient to have prostrated the stoutest of them 
at a single blow.” 
•Of the propriety of the latter act, we ex¬ 
press no opinion, but only state the fact.— 
One thing is certain, however, and that is, he 
was sufficiently resolute to remain, and would 
have remained under any and all circumstan¬ 
ces, “ master in his school-room ” 
Children. —No man can tell but he that 
loves his children how many delicious accents 
makcyi man’s heart dance in the prs’ty con 
versation of those dear pledges ; their child¬ 
ishness, their stammerirg, their little augers, 
their innocence, their imperfections, their ne¬ 
cessities, are so many little emanations of j iy 
and c imfort to him that deligats ia tbeir per 
eons and society ; but he that loves not his 
wife and children, feeds a lioness at home, 
and broods a ne3t of sorrows : and blessing 
itself cannot make lrin happy. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
TEACHER’S TRIALS.-No. II. 
We ridicule others for their fears and fail 
ures, and fear and fail like them ia like situa 
tions; for many a path that looks smooth at 
a distance, is found to be rough wheu we have 
I to travel it. 
The morning came—a November morning. 
Nature began to assume her sombre vesture, 
and give sure indications that winter was 
really approaching. The voices of soDg had 
subsided in the forest, and the beauty of sum¬ 
mer had withered on the mead. As the 
teacher was plodding his way to the school¬ 
room again, there was November in his heart. 
Not the bright green plants of blessedness 
that seemed setting the night before,—not 
the bursting buds of hope, so full of joy—a 
teacher’s joy. He had slept, but not quietly. 
There had glimmered ’mid all his dreams 
visions of faded happiness. 
Fellow teacher, do you leave your school 
at the threshhold of the school-room ? Can 
you turn the key at the avenues of your mind? 
Have you no planning for the morrow ?— 
When left in communion with your thoughts, 
do you not revolve some new scheme, and en¬ 
deavor to decide whether cr not it would 
work for your interest ? And when you lie 
down to sleep, do you not live over the scenes 
of the day ? The pictures are frequently por¬ 
trayed with new and sometimes glowing col¬ 
ors. Sometimes the realities of the coming 
day throw their dark shadows over the sky of 
our dreams, and the shadows do not depart, 
until some new luminary of fortune bursts 
upon the mind. 
He had hoped that the new plan he had 
recently adopted, to secure promptness and 
punctuality on the part of his scholars, would 
work exactly to his mind. Already Mrs. It. 
had told him that she thought it wa3 a fine 
thing to get boys and girls out in the morn- 
irg, and to see that they were not one mo¬ 
ment behind. And Mr3. R. used to teach 
school a great many years ago, and knew just 
how things ought to be in the school-room. 
But then she said it would not do to be too 
particular, for the people wouldn’t stand it. 
She said she heard the trustee’s wife say, the 
other day, that she could not be plagued with 
writing an excuse every time. John was de¬ 
tained at home in the morning. Sometimes 
the boy was not well—his health was always 
rather delicate, and he was very much inclined 
to sleep in the morning, and she had not a 
heart to wake him. “ Why, the other day,” 
she continued, “ John was just fifteen minutes 
too late, and the teacher refused to let him 
into school, and sent him home for a written 
excuse —just as though my boy could not be 
believed—a written excuse —dear me ! what a 
foolish notion. There is old Briggs’ boy, 
whom nobody believes — an excuse from him 
would be perfectly consistent.” 
The teacher went along musing upon all 
this, and wondered how it was that so few 
parents had bad children, when at the same 
time he found so many wayward ones at 
school. Bat he raDg the bell, and a dozen or 
two of the pupils were found in their seats, 
while as many more came plodding along in 
scattered detachments. Thus began the day. 
How did it end ? J. W. Barker. 
Niagara Falls, 1855. 
FEMALE HEALTH AND EDUCATION. 
The following paragraphs are extracted 
from Miss Beecher’s new work : 
THE GREAT BELL OF MOSCOW. 
The Monarch bell ( Czar Kolokol) above 
represented, is justly named, for its size sur¬ 
passes all others in the world. It was cast 
by the Empress Anne, of Russia, in 1730, 
and bears her figure in flowing robes upon its 
surface. There is a border of flowers around 
its rim, but this decoration is in low relief and 
badly executed. Its weight is between three 
and lour hundred thousand pounds, and its 
value, estimating this mass of metal at the 
present price of copper, must be upwards of 
a million and a half of dollars. The “ Czar 
Kolokol” is lrghly venerated, the religious 
feelings of the people having contributed to 
its construction, every one who had the means 
adding an offering of gold or silver to the 
molten mass. 
The bell was originally placed upon a tow¬ 
er, but this was destroyed by fire in 1737, and 
its fall buried the enormous ma 3 s deep ia the 
earth, breaking a huge fragment frora its rim. 
There it lay for a hundred years, visited ia it3 
sentinel. In 1837 the Czar Nicholas, justly 
esteeming it one of the wonders of Moscow 
and the Empire, caused it to be raised and 
placed upon the pedestal, with it3 broken 
fragment beside it, as sho wn in our engraving. 
The height of the whole bell is twenty-one 
feet and three inches; it is twenty-two feet 
and five inches in diameter, and in no part is 
it less than three inches in thickness.. The 
fracture is six feet high and three feet wide. 
The bell, as it now stands, has beea consecra¬ 
ted as a chapel, and the entrance to it is by an 
iron gate, and down a few steps into a cavity 
formed by the wall of its pedestal. 
Compared with other bell3, it is far supe¬ 
rior. The largest bell in France, that of 
Rouen, weighs thirty-six thousand pounds— 
the great fire-bell of the City Hall, in New 
York, weighs twenty-one thousand, while the 
famous “ Tom,” of Lincoln, in England, cast 
in 1610, and afterward cracked, weighed but 
ten thousand pounds. The great bell of Mcs- 
subterraneous abode only by adventurous j cow, as before mentioned, weighs about three 
travelers, and carefully guarded by a Russian hundred and fifty thousand founds. 
EstM 
WHAT PETER THE GREAT SAW. 
The work that Providence has appointed 
for woman in the various details cf domestic 
life, is just that which, if properly apportion¬ 
ed, is fitted to her public organization. If 
all the female members of a family divided all 
the labors of the cook, the nurse, the laun¬ 
dress, and the seamstress, so that each should 
have four or five hours a day of alternating 
light and heavy work, it would exercise every 
muscle in the body, and at the same time in¬ 
terest and exercise the mind. Then the re¬ 
maining time could be safely given to intel¬ 
lectual, social and benevolent pursuits and 
enjoyments. 
But no such division is made. One portion 
of the women have all the exercise of the 
nerves of motion, and another have all the 
brain work, while they thus grow up deficient 
and deformed, either intellectually or physi¬ 
cally, or both. And so American women 
every year become more and more nervous, 
sickly aud miserable, while they are bringing 
into existence a feeble, delicate or deformed 
cflspring. 
YVe are convinced that this statement, 
terrific as it is, is no exaggeration, and may 
be confirmed by thousands of cases very near 
us, and not among those who are called igno¬ 
rant, or thoughtless, or unkind. It seems to 
me that the education of daughters is more 
badly managed than anything in American 
society, and in some respects the position that 
is regarded as the most favored is exactly the 
opposite. If any enemy of the human race 
who wished to destroy the hope of the nation, 
could devise any more effeciual method of 
breaking down the health of girls than the 
wethul pursued by our current fashions, he 
must be gLed with superhuman ingenuity. 
Peter toe Great, while in England, was 
as shy and unwilling to be seen as Peter the 
Wild Boy. He was present at a ball given at 
Kensington by King William, in honor of 
the birthday of the Princess Anne, afterwards 
Queen ; or rather he may be said to have seen 
the hall, for his shyness confined him to a 
small room, from which he could see without 
being seen. When he saw King William on 
his throne in the House of Lores, (a s : ght he 
had expressed a particular wish o see,) it was 
not from the gallery, nor from below the bar 
of the house, but from a gutter iu the house¬ 
top, from which he was enabled to peep 
through a window into the house. He retired 
from this unpleasant point sooner, it is said, 
than he intended ; for he made so ridiculous a 
figure (says Lord Dartmouth, who was pres¬ 
ent) that ^neither King nor peers could for 
bear laughing. He was taken to all our 
London sights at that time of any moment.— 
To the lions and armories in the tower, to the 
monuments and wax figures in Westminster 
Abbey, to Lambeth Palace, to the masquer¬ 
ade ou the last night of the Temple revels, 
and to the two theatres in Drury-lane and 
Dorset gardens. He was chiefly attracted by J 
the Tower and the performances at Drury ' 
Lane. 
The wild beasts and implements of war 
were adapted to his rougher nature, while the 
charms of a Mis3 Cross, the original Miss 
Hoyden, in Vanburg’s Relapse, and the first 
actress who had “ M.ss” prefixed to her name 
in play-bills, were so engaging that the rough 
Czar of Russia became enamored of her beau¬ 
ty. There is a fine old mezzotinto which still 
preserves to us the beautiful features that won 
the heart of Peter the Great. He did not 
speak English, nor is he known to have been 
at all desirous of learnirg it ; few of his say¬ 
ings have therefore been preserved. Three, 
however, have reached us. He told Admiral 
Mitchell that he considered the condition of an 
English Admiral happier than that of a Czar 
of Russia. To King William he observed, 
“ If I were the adviser of your Majesty, I 
would counsel you to remove your Court to 
Greenwich, and to convert St. James’ once 
more into a hospital.” Wheu in Westmia- 
ster Hall he inquired who the busy gentlemen 
were in wigs and gowns, and being told they 
were lawyers—“ Lawyers,” said he, “ Why I 
have but two in my whole dominion, and I 
design to hang one of them the moment I get 
home.”— Dickens' Household II ords. 
latina, and little Jocky of the whooping cough, 
till the toddling wee thing who used to pet 
and water it were carried off, each and all of 
them, one by one, to the kirk-yard sleep, while 
the father and mother sat at hrying toome, to 
supply by whiskey the very vital energy which 
fresh air and pure water, and the balmy breath 
of the wood t and heaths, were made by God 
to give ; and how the little geranium did its 
best, like a heaven-sent angel, to right the 
wrongs which man’s ignorance had begotten, 
and drank in day by day, the poisoned atmos- 
Dhere, and formed into fair green leaves, and 
breathed into the children’s laces, from every 
pore, whenever they bent over it, the life- 
givirg oxygen for which their dull blood and 
es'ered lungs were craving, but in vain ! ful¬ 
filling God’s will itself, though man would not, 
and was too careless or too covetous to see, 
after six thousand year3 of boasted progress, 
why God had covered the earth with grass, 
hero and tree, a living and life-giving garment 
of perpetual health and you:L —North British 
Review. 
i >. /’^ v «*' v >» /'•>»* 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
Teaching. —Ths love of teaching is gener¬ 
al y associated with the capacity for it, but 
t ie converse does not generally hold true.— 
Men generally teach badly when they attempt 
to teach too much, or when they do not duly 
prepare their lessons. Presence of mind and 
that self confidence which is based on self- 
knowledge are essential elements in a good 
teacher’s character. An earnest man iinoued 
with the love of children, is rarely a bad 
t.acher. 
NATURE’S SANITARY LESSONS- 
All the invaluable laws and methods of 
sanitary reform at best are but clumsy imita 
tions of the unseen wonders which every ani- 
maieula end leaf have been workitg since 
the world's fouidation, with this slight differ¬ 
ence between them and us—that they fulfill 
their appointed task, and we do not. The 
sickly geranium which spreads its blanched 
leaves u gainst the cellar panes and peers up, 
us if imploring to the narrow slip of sunlight 
at the top of the ra row wynd, had it a voice, 
could tell more truly than any doctor in the 
Written for Moore's Bnral New-Yorker. 
THE ANGEL’S CALL. 
Hark ! ’twas a wnnd’ring lay 
From that far Eden home : 
Sweetly those wafted echoes say, 
“Come, sister, come! 
“ Linger thou not helow— 
Here all is fadeless bloom ; 
Here the bright healing waters flow— 
Come, sister, come 1 
“ There is no sorrow here, 
No pain, no dying moan ; 
Jesus hath wiped away each tear— 
Come, sister, come 1 
“ Thy robe—thy harp of gold 1 
Wake thou its slumb’ring tone ; 
Come bow thee ’mid ‘ these shining ones’ 
Come, sister, come 1 
“ Praise ! praise ! like us thou’rt called 
From evil days to come ! 
Ere blight hath found thy tender bloom, 
Sealed for thy home 1” 
East Bloomfield, N. Y. Makianna. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LIFE’S BETTER PART. 
I am composed of seventeen letters. 
My 1, 4, 16, 11, 6, 12, is an inscription. 
My 16, 10, 5, 17, 6, is a county in Wisconsin. 
My 3, 2, 10, is a kind of tree. 
My 18, 1, 8, 15, 6, is to collect what remains. 
My 14, 2, 8, 1, 7, signifies to afford. 
My 16, 1, 6, is a machine. 
My 13, 9, 2, 10, 6, is a child. 
My whole is the title of a piece written by 
Oliver Goldsmith. o. p. d. 
ffgr* Answer next week. 
We may gaze with admiration on worldly 
splendor, we may be captivated by the bril¬ 
liancy of costly gems and rich apparel, or by 
a beautiful person—yet while we gaze they 
lose their brilliancy ; the beautiful vision has 
faded from our sight; that lovely form is but 
a wreck of what it was. And is this all we 
have on earth to cherish ? Shall our noble 
faculties be given entirely to the pursuit of 
fading joys which recede as we approach 
them? No, let U3 rather turn our attention 
to that “ better part” which the more it is 
adorned and polished, the more susceptible it 
is of being made beautiful. An all-wise Cre¬ 
ator has not commanded us to seek pleasure 
in riches, but he ka3 given U3 faculties which, 
if rightly cultivated, will ensure happiness, 
though we nave but a small supply of thi3 
world’s goods. 
“ On all. He mors I worth 
Bestowed ; and moral tribute asked from all. 
Aud who that could not pay ? who horn so poor, 
Of intellect so mean, as not to know 
What seemed the best; and knowing, might not do?” 
S. A. O. 
Faith—An Incident. —For a number of 
years I have beea engaged in Snnday Schools, 
endeavoring to lead the tender mind in wis¬ 
dom’s ways. One great obstacle in the way 
of coming to God is faith. Many will not 
believe that all the promises and blessings re¬ 
corded in the Bible are theirs, on condition 
that they are good children, and take God at 
hi 3 word. And now, to illustrate faith in 
God, I will relate an incident which transpir¬ 
ed within the circle of my acquaintance : 
A little girl, on her way to school, went 
upon the ice to cross the river, and, in the 
midst, she broke in, but by throwing out her 
arms on the ice, she saved herself from being 
carried down. In that situation she called 
for help. Many saw her, but dared not ven¬ 
ture to her rescue. She continued to call.— 
At length she saw her father coming, and was 
silent. Her father came to the river’s edge, 
procured a piece of wood, and proceeded to 
his daughter. He raised her out from the 
water, and brought her safe to shore. 
She was asked why she did not continue to 
cry for help. She answered, when she saw 
her father she knew he would help her out.— 
She had faith in him. Would every one ex¬ 
ercise such faith in Jesus to save them, we 
would soon all be safe.— E. Kent. 
CHARADE. 
Pendent from the aged trees, 
Waving in the summer breeze— 
Or o’er the shaded roof it creeps, 
Where the sunlight softly sleeps. 
Around the mouth of some old well, 
Or deep in shady nook or dell, 
Covering with a carpet green 
The damp, gray rocks, my first is seen. 
Around the cottage doorway creeping, 
In at the palace window peeping, 
In color with the rainbow vieing, 
Or like the clouds when day i3 dying. 
Pure as a maiden’s cheek or brow, 
Whiter than the virgin snow— 
An emblem of silence, of beauty, and love- 
My second you’ll find wherever you rove. 
Knowledge of God. —To know Gcd only 
as a philosopher—to have the most sublime 
and curious speculations concerning his es¬ 
sence, attributes and providence—to be able 
to demonstrate his Being from all, or any, of 
the works of nature, and to discourse with the 
greatest propriety and eloquence, of his exist¬ 
ence and operations, will avail us nothing, 
unless at the same time we know Him exper¬ 
imentally ; unless the heart know Him to be 
its supreme good, its only happiness ; unless 
a man feel and acknowledge that he can find 
no repose, no peace, no joy, but in loving and 
being loved by Him, and does accoroingy 
rest in Him as the centre of his being, ihe 
fountain of his pleasures, the origin of all 
virtue and goodness, his light, his life, his 
strength, his all; in a word, his Lord, his Gcd. 
“ Once on a time,” ’ twas “ long, long ago,” 
The gods and goddesses dwelt here below ; 
The angel of flowers laid down in the lap 
Of the queen of the flowers, to take a short nap; | 
He rose so well pleased with his fragrant bed, 
A transparent veil he over it spread ; 
In a moment my whole, in beauty arrayed, 
With its velvet-lilce petals, to view was dis¬ 
played. 
Answer next week. 
Answer to Charade in No. 305 :—Wo-man. 
Answer to Medicinal Enigma in 305 :—Cat- 
town, why little Maggy sickened of the scar- ‘ nip tea for children. 
An hour in heaven ! All the sharp, harsh 
thorns in the way she trod below, are forgot¬ 
ten now ; all its trials and besetments and 
snares ;—the pangs of dissolution—the agony 
of the dying strife, are thought of no mere. 
Once, she wept as we do now ; once, like us, 
she saw the heaven she now sees and enjoys, 
through a glass very “ darkly”— often, she 
said, “ I shall never behold his face in peace.” 
But now, O joy! she is in the immediate 
presence of her Beloved, and prostrates her¬ 
self before Him. Bathing .in the radiant 
light of his countenance, now 
“The long yearnings of her heart are stilled.” 
The Christian dce3 not serve God for hap¬ 
piness, but God by a sublime necessity has 
attached happiness to his service. Along the 
ranks of his army goes the command to rejoice 
—above it floats the banner of love. Felici¬ 
ty is the light whica rests over it all. From 
the helmets of the seraphim that light is flash¬ 
ed back in full unclouded blaze ; on us of the 
human race who, as Isaac Tay:or says beauti¬ 
fully, “ seem to stand almost on the extreme 
confines of happiness,” its first rays are even 
now descending.— Bayne. 
A generous mind does not feel as belong¬ 
ing to itself alone, but to the whole human 
race. 
