Miscfllitncffus. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Worker.] 
“Oil FOR A HOME BESIDE THE HILLS.” 
IIY KM, A FARM AN. 
“On for a liome beside tlie hills,” 
Where gladly leap tlie bounding rills—• 
Where sunlight dwells, ’inid fairy flowers 
Which bloom, and bud ’mid green-wood bowers: 
There I would look on green vales wide, 
’Mid which, the gay wild waters hide, 
And then, through sweet, wild roses roam, 
To seek for paths to Ocean’s home. 
There I could dwell from care away, 
And ne’er ’mid proud halls wish to stay— 
’ Where far from tones of festal glee, 
My heart at rest would ever be. 
Oh, I’d be free from weary care,—• 
No veil of mockery would I wear— 
G tv lips should never wear a smile, 
While hearts are breaking all the while. 
Were I away from careless eyes, 
Which only gold and beauty prize, 
My lieait might be as wild and free 
As t’ne waves of the chainless sea: 
My heart is sick of false, cotd life, 
’Tis tired of aching, tears and strife, 
And dreams fore’er, of forest trees— 
Ilird-songs—the carol of the breeze; 
Oh for a home beside the hills, 
Where over glide the laughing rills ; • 
A home that’s bright with birds and llfiwcrs— 
’Tis there I’d live life's happy hours. 
Ellington. Feb. 15, 1854. 
DESULTORY PARAGRAPHS. 
Little Charities. —LiLtle opportunities of 
doing good are neglected by many who are 
waiting to perform great acts of charity anti 
beneficence. But few have both the will and 
the means for deeds of high benevolence, hence 
none should forget that the cup of cold water 
was commended and written in Heaven, .while 
the rich man’s aims, though heralded abroad 
by the sounding trumpet, had its empty and 
short-lived tones as their only blazon. 
Suspect Not. —Suspicion, that serpent in 
life’s Eden! how often does his low mocking 
hiss frighten us from our happiness! Often 
does the “ frank, believing youth ” become 
the disappointed, caviling man, because this 
“fiend of Doubt” has made his heart a den 
from whence he breathes blight and mildew 
on every budding joy. 
“O, in this mocking world, too soon, 
The doubting fiend o’ertakes our youth; 
Better be cheated to the last. 
Than lose the blessed hope of truth. 
Better trust all and be deceived, 
And weep that trust and that deceiving, 
Than doubt one heart that if believed. 
Had blessed one heart with true believing.” 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
SUSPENSION BRIDGE AT NIAGARA FALLS. 
IX. 
Unconscious Influence. —It may be ques¬ 
tioned which is the wiser, but not the happier— 
he who strives against every form of wrong, 
seeking directly to destroy error and root out 
ignorance; or he who quietly, by the force of 
examples of beauty, unconsciously soothes and 
harmonizes the perturbed spirits and unhallow¬ 
ed passions of those around him, into unison 
with his own higher and purer nature. 
Death of the Old. —Death garners the aged 
in the grave “like a shock of corn fully ripe?’ 
And when the good are called away, can we 
weep that their labors are over, that they have 
gone to their reward in Heaven? Here it was 
toil and wo and strife—there it is rest and joy 
and peace. Here it was storm and darkness— 
there it is unclouded day. Here it was sick¬ 
ness and sighing—there it is untroubled and 
unbounded felicity. Rut how few arrive at 
“three-score years and ten!” From the morn¬ 
ing dawn of our existence, we walk blindfolded 
in a pathway hedged in with graves, into one of 
which, sooner or later, we shall stumble.— 
Blindly, too, we grope among life’s pains and 
pleasures,—when following any but the heaven¬ 
ly guide, when seeking any but the heaven¬ 
ly inheritance. May we seek—not riches, not 
happiness, not long life; but to do our duty 
manfully in the years allotted ns, resting assur¬ 
ed that this end will best compass all other 
ends worth seeking. 
The Flattery of' Appreciation. — The 
sympathizing spirit which appreciates whatever 
of good we possess—telling us so by its actions 
or even words—uses that delicate varnish of 
flattery which cannot soil the most fastidious 
self-respect; and a very different article in its 
effects and appearance from the coarse white¬ 
wash some people are ever scattering about 
them. 
Perverseness. —A spirit of perverseness 
sometimes seizes us, making us act contrary 
to our own better feelings—making us do little 
disagreeable things just because tee should not 
do them. This furnishes the only satisfactory 
solution of one-half the quarrels between the 
best of friends, it rather grates upon ..our self- 
love to feel that they possess, however worthi¬ 
ly, so much power over us; so we at tempt in 
some such way to show off our independence. 
* Continued from page 9, this volume. 
Eds. Rural: —Probably but a small propor¬ 
tion of the many readers of your interesting 
paper, have ever seen, or have any correct idea 
of the great international Suspension Bridge, 
now in course of construction. With the en¬ 
deavor to add something to the useful'and 
readable matter of your deservedly popular 
journal, I will, with your permission, make the 
effort to give it a description. 
A bridge of such novelty of construction— 
such magnificent proportions—such immense 
strength—would be an object of great curiosity 
in any locality, or across any river. But ta¬ 
king into view, that it is international in its 
character—that it affords a great thoroughfare 
of inter-communication between two Govern¬ 
ments—that it spans the Niagara with its many 
curiosities and historical reminiscences, unsur¬ 
passed by any other river on this Continent— 
just below, and in full view of its great water¬ 
fall—and over a chasm of fearful depth, at the 
bottom of which rushes its vast flood with the 
speed of a rail car—all taken together, must 
make it one of the wonders of the world. 
Bridges suspended over gulfs and rivers, 
where supports from underneath were imprac¬ 
ticable,, have long been made, but the success¬ 
ful construction of bridges suspended on cables 
made of small iron wire, and of strength suffi¬ 
cient, not only to sustain their own immense 
weight, but also the weight of a train of cars 
drawn by the largest class locomotive, are of 
recent origin. Cables for this purpose, made 
ot small wire, have very peculiar and important 
advantages—their strength may be calculated 
to a mathematical certainty. To make this 
understood by every reader, let me illustrate. 
If we take one hundred threads of silk, of a 
given and uniform length, and we test the 
strength of each* separately, by suspending a 
five pound weight to it, we know that the one 
hundred, when laid straight and evenly togeth¬ 
er (not twisted,) and firmly wound from end to 
end, in their united strength will sustain five 
hundred pounds. With just as much certainty 
does the engineer, constructing this bridge, 
know the strength of each cable and the weight 
it will sustain; therefore, by calculating the 
weight of the cables, and all the other materials 
of the bridge; the weight of a loaded train of 
cars, with locomotive moving it with a given 
velocity; then adding a large amount to make 
it beyond all peradventure, the requisite num¬ 
ber of wire is put into the cables to make it 
beyond a possibility of failure. But, now it 
{ becomes apparent to every one, that however 
certain may be the strength of the cables, all 
is of no avail for security, unless the fastening 
or anchorage of the cables is made equally 
certain. This point is not as easily obtained; 
demonstration is impracticable, the trial of its 
strength is equally so, and therefore the skill 
and ingenuity of construction and human judg¬ 
ment must be relied upon. That it may be re¬ 
lied upon fully , labor and material are used 
with most lavish expense—for failing here, all 
fails. It matters not for the safety of the noble 
ship, with a “ lee-shore'' in sight, however 
strong may be her cables, if she drags her 
anchor. But she may be dashed in pieces on 
the rocky shore, and some of her hardy crew 
be saved. Aot so with this bridge. “Dragging 
her anchors” when with a train freighted with 
a thousand human beings, not one could escape 
death! As well might they fall into the crater 
of a burning volcano! Such a catastrophe 
cannot be contemplated but with horror. All 
other railroad disasters — terrible indeed as 
some of them have been — would sink into 
comparative nothingness. 
Then how great is the responsibility resting 
on the men constructing this work! But sci¬ 
ence, skill, money and material have not been 
wanting—all human judgment pronounces it 
safe! Though probably thousands of the 
timorous have declared that “ they would never 
cross it on the ears,” yet, after years of trial, it 
will be passed with as much unconcern as any 
ordinary bridge. Hoping that I have not 
failed entirely to interest, and lest I be weari¬ 
some, I will reserve the subject of anchorage 
for another time, when I will endeavor to illus¬ 
trate the subject with some diagrams—and, at 
another time I may describe the manner of 
laying the wire into the immense cables, and 
the machinery used in the operation, and should 
my description be read with half the interest 
that is manifest by those that stand and look 
upon the operation, I shall not have failed in 
my object. 
This, as you will perceive, is but an intro¬ 
duction to my subject Before I get through 
L hope to give you a drawing of this stupen¬ 
dous work, together with some facts and figures 
in detail of dimensions, Ac. Bellevue. 
Suspension Bridge, Feb., 1854. 
No man or woman is fully educated if not 
accnstomod to manual labor. Whatever ac¬ 
complishments they possess, whatever their 
mental training, a deduction must be made for 
BIRDS’ NESTS. 
that important branch. 
Let a man be treated as a brute, and he 
will become more brutish than a brute; but as 
a rational being, and he will show that he is so. 
The structure of the nests of birds affords, 
perhaps, one of the most agreeable lessons in 
Natural History. 
Among the most curious nests of our En¬ 
glish birds may be named that of the wren, 
the long-tailed titmouse, the thrush, the gold¬ 
finch, the chaffinch, the magpie, and the house- 
sparrow; to these may be added the swallow’s, 
the martin’s, the wood pigeon’s and the wood¬ 
pecker’s. Of the nests of rooks, it may be 
sufficient to observe, that they are found to the 
number of six, or even more, in a cluster.— 
Crow’s nests are always solitary; they are simi¬ 
lar in structure to those of th«*rook. 
Among the nests of foreign birds, that of 
the tailor bird deserves especial mention; the 
bird itself is a diminutive one, being a little 
more than three inches long; it is an inhabi¬ 
tant of India. The nest is sometimes con¬ 
structed of two leaves, one of them dead; the 
latter is fixed to the living one as it hangs 
upon the tree, by sewing both together in tiie 
manner of a pouch or purse; it is open at the 
top, and the cavity is filled with fine down; 
and, being suspended from the branch, the 
birds are secure from the depredations of 
snakes and monkeys, to which they might 
otherwise fall a prey. In Dr. Lai ham’s collec¬ 
tion is a specimen of the tailor bird’s nest, com¬ 
posed of a single large leaf, of a. fibrous, rough 
lexture, about six inches loug independent of 
the stalk, five inches and a half in breadth, and 
ending in a point. The sides of the leaf are 
drawn together so as to meet within three- 
quarters of an inch; within is the nest, about 
four inches deep and two broad, opening at 
the top; the bottom of the leaf is drawn up¬ 
wards. to assist in the support of it. The inte¬ 
rior is composed of white down, with here and 
there a feather and a small portion of white 
down intermixed. 
Another nest of this bird has also been de¬ 
scribed as composed of several leaves, like those 
of some kind of hazel sewed together; the in¬ 
ner nest is formed of dry bents fibres, and 
hairs, suspended from a tree. It is, therefore, 
probable that this bird, as well as some others, 
varies the structure of its nest as occasion and 
the materials may require. These singular 
works are performed by tlie bird using his bill 
instead of a needle, and vegetable fibres for a 
thread. 
JEFFREYS, THE BLOODY JUDGE. 
It was enough for any man or woman to be 
accused by an enemy, before Jeffreys, to be 
found guilty of high treason. One man, who 
pleaded not guilty, he ordered to be taken out 
of court upon the instant, and hanged; and this 
so terrified the prisoners in general, that they 
mostly pleaded at once. At Dorchester alone, 
in the course of a few days, Jeffreys hanged 80 
people, besides whipping, transporting, impris¬ 
oning, and selling as slaves, great numbers.— 
He executed in all 250 or 300. These execu¬ 
tions took place, among the neighbors and 
friends of the sentenced, Tn 3o towns and vil¬ 
lages. Their bodies were majvJed, steeped in 
cauldrons of boiling piled and tar, and hung 
up by the road sides, in the streets, over the 
very churches. 
The hangman has ever since been called 
Jack Ketch, because a man of that name went 
hanging and hanging, all day long in the train 
of Jeffreys. You will hear much of the hor¬ 
rors of the great French Revolution. Many 
and terrible they were, there is no doubt; but 
I know of nothing worse, done by the maddened 
people of Fiance in that awful time, than was 
done by the highest judge in England, with the 
express approval of the King of England, in 
the Bloody Assize .—Household Words. 
GUM ARABIC. 
In Morocco, about the middle of November, 
that is, after a rainy season, which begins in 
July, a gummy juice exudes spontaneously 
from the trunk and principal branches of the 
aceaciatree. In about fifteen days, it thickens 
in the furrow, down which it runs, either in 
vermicular (or worm) shape, or commonly as¬ 
suming the form of oval and round tears, about 
the size of a pigeon’s egg, of different colei’s, as 
they belong to the white or. red gum tree.— 
About the middle of December, the Moors en¬ 
camp on the border of the forest, and the har¬ 
vest lasts six weeks. 
The gum is packed iu very large sacks of 
leather, and brought on the backs of bullocks 
and camels to certain ports, where it is sold to 
tlie French and English merchants. It is 
highly nutritious. During the whole time of 
harvest, of the journey, and of the fair, the 
Moors of the desert live almost entirely upon 
it, and experience proves that six ounces of 
gum are sufficient for the support of a man 
twenty-four hours. 
THE RULE OF THREE. 
There are exceptions to every rule but the 
rule of three; that is never changed. Asyourex- 
penditure is to your income, so will the amount 
of your debts be to your cash on hand, and 
consequent ability to pay them. If you allow 
your vanity to lead you into extravagance, 
you must rely on something else to take you 
out of it: either a rich relation or the sheriff’s 
writ. Your furniture may be less showy than 
that of your neighbor, but never mind. Bet¬ 
ter are cane-bottomed chairs and mahogany 
tables that are paid for, than spriug cushions 
and marble mantles on a note of six months.— 
Your coat may be less fashionable than your 
neighbor’s, and while he is driven by a liveried 
coachman, you may be riding shank’s horses; 
but remember there is a time for balancing 
the books, and every purse has a bottom. So 
economize, and always remember the rule of 
three. 
We are too apt to attribute success in busi¬ 
ness to good fortune, instead of great persever¬ 
ance. This is a great evil, and should be es¬ 
chewed, as it leads many to suppose that Dame 
Fortune will do that for them which they are 
unwilling to do for themselves. 
Jfjor lire 
MAIDENHOOD. 
BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 
Maiden I with meek brown eyes 
In whose orb a shadow lies, 
Dike the dust in the evening skies 1 
Thou whose locks outshone the sun, 
Golden tresses wreathed in one, 
As the braided streamlets run! 
Standing with reluctant feet, 
Where the brook and river meet. 
Womanhood and childhood fleet! 
Gazing, with a timid glance, 
On the brooklet’s swift advance, 
On the river’s broad expanse 1 
Deep and still, the gliding stream 
Beautiful to thee must seem, 
As the river of a dream. 
Then why pause with indecision, 
When bright angels in thy vision 
Beckon thee to fields Elysian ? 
Seest thou shadows floating by, 
As the dove, with startled eye, 
Sees the falcon’s shadow fly ? 
Hear’st thou voices on the shore, 
That our ears perceive no more. 
Deafened by the cataract’s roar ? 
O, thou child of many prayers! 
Life hath quicksands—Life hath snares! 
Care and age come unawares I 
Like the swell of some sweet tune, 
Morning rising into noon, 
May glides onward into June. 
Childhood is the bough where slumbered 
Birds and blossoms many-numbered; 
Age, that bough, with snows encumbered. 
Gather, then, each flower that grows, 
When the young heart overflows 
To embalm that tent of snows. 
Bear a lily in thy hand; 
Gates of brass cannot withstand 
One touch of that magic wand. 
Bear through sorrow, wrong and ruth. 
In thy heart the dews of Youth, 
On thy lips the smile of Truth. 
O, that dew, like halm shall steal 
Into wounds that cannot heal, 
Even as sleep our eyes doth steal! 
And that smile, like sunshine dart 
Into many a smileless heart, 
For a smile of God thou art. 
CHILDREN AND SERVANTS. 
A WORD FOR MOTHERS. 
“Come along, Ally, come along. It’s not 
this way I'll be stopping for you, so come 
aiong!” said Mary Macarty, to the little deli¬ 
cate child she was leading by the hand. 
The child thus accosted, slackened its pace 
for a moment to look into her face pitifully, 
then hurried on. Soon the little feet faltered 
again, and again the sharp voice said, 
“ Come along, I say.” . 
At the same time little Ally’s arm was pulled 
harshly, and she was almost dragging her along 
the street. It was late in the morning, and 
the sun’s rays were beating upon them furious¬ 
ly. With the parasol she held, Mary shaded 
1161 - 8611 '; but the child had no protection. 
“ Hush, Ally, hush! ’ and the little arm re¬ 
ceived another pull, and the mouth a blow; for 
the child had commenced crying. 
Pretty little Ally’s face was now bathed in 
tears, and the blue eyes looked to Mary’s so 
pleadingly. 
“Please, Mary, take Ally; Ally tired,” sob¬ 
bed the little pleader. 
But Mary’s heart was not touched; and with 
another hearty pull she hurried her along.— 
The child wept harder than ever, and the little 
feet almost refused to move. Still Mary lifted 
her not, but dragged her along. 
“And sure, it’s a troublesome child you 
are!” said Mary, as she half lifted, and half 
threw the child up the steps, as she reached 
home. “ I’ll not take you out again, that I 
won’t, and I’ll beat you now, if you don’t hush!” 
and a slight blow tested the truth of what she 
uttered. 
Frightened, the child hushed crying aloud, 
but its sobs were heard long after it had been 
laid down to sleep, in its little bed, where it 
usually took its morning nap. Mary was soon 
below stairs, where a friend waited to talk with 
her. She was over her pet with the child, and 
when its mother returned, had hardly ceased 
speaking of the pleasant walk she and little 
Ally had just taken. 
“ I wonder, James, what makes Ally moan 
and start so in her sleep, this morning!” I am 
truly troubled about her, ’tis so unusual.” 
“Oh, don’t be frightened, Alice; I dare say 
nothing is the matter. Come now, lunch is 
ready. Ally will soon waken as well as ever, I 
dare say;” and so saying, they left the sleeping 
child. 
But all that day Ally seemed not well; and 
ere her usual time for retiring came, she was 
fast asleep in her mother’s arms. Now, more 
than ever alarmed, the mother called a physi¬ 
cian. He pronounced the child ill, very*ill, 
with some disease of the brain. The usual 
questions were put, “Had the child been ex¬ 
posed to the hot sun?” “ Had she been over 
excited, or troubled, or hurt in any way?” 
“No, indeed; no such harm had come to 
her child,”answered the mother, unhesitatingly; 
and “ No, no! surely no!” answered Mary. 
Once the mother asked, looking anxiously 
and earnestly at Mary, if they had not been 
out late that morning in their walk, or if Ally 
had not been hurried home? 
“ And sure, Mrs., do you think I would allow 
harm to your child? Do I not love her as I 
would my own flesh and blood? And do you 
think I would not take care of her?” 
The mother was silenced. Surely, Mary 
would not deceive her. But all uight long the 
little sufferer had no rest. Two days she lin¬ 
gered thus, then the pure spirit winged its way 
to Heaven. Deep grief was in that house¬ 
hold. Their only, their cherished one had 
gone from them. Henceforth she was theirs 
only in another world. 
Mary kept well her secret. The parents 
never knew the wrong she had done them— 
never knew but for her the child might still 
have slept upon their hearts. 
Mothers, look well to this matter. Ijeave 
not your children too much, even to the best 
of servants. They are not their children— 
they cannot feel for them, or have patience 
with them as we have: and does not even ours 
sometimes fail us? Must we (hen expect more 
for hire? I trow not. Then look well to your 
children. Suffer them to be most in your sight 
for else you know not what evil may come 
upon them. - • 
WIVES, SAVE YOUR HUSBANDS. 
TriE following should be read by every wo¬ 
man in the country, married or unmarried_ 
yes, it should be committed to memory and re¬ 
peated three times a day, for it contains more 
truth than many volumes that have been writ¬ 
ten on the subject: 
“ Wow often we hear a man say, I am goin«- 
to California, Australia, or some w here else.— 
ou ask him the reason of his going away, and 
the answer is, in nine cases out of ten, I am not 
nappy at home. I have been unfortunate in 
business, and I have made up my mind to try 
my luck in Gaiiiornia. ’ike w r orld seems to go 
against me. While fortune favored me, there 
were those whom 1 thought to be my friends, 
but when the scale turned, they also turned 
the cold shoulders against me. My wife, she 
that should have been the first to have stood 
b\ me and encourage me, was the first to point 
the finger of scorn and say, ‘It was your own 
fault; why has this or that one been fortunate? 
If you had attended to your business as they 
nave, you would not be where you are now.’_ 
These and other like insinuations, often drive a 
man to oilier society, oilier pleasures, in conse¬ 
quence of being unhappy at home. He may 
nave that he loves; lie cannot enjoy life with 
them as he would; he may love them as dearly 
as ever; yet home is made unpleasant in conse¬ 
quence of that cold indifference of the wife._ 
Now I would say to all such wives, sisters, 
and in fact all females, deal gently with him 
that is in trouble; remember that he is very 
easily excited. A little word, carelessly thrown 
put, may inflict a wound time never can heal. 
Then be cautious; a man is but human—there¬ 
fore he is liable to err. If you see him goin 0- 
wrong, ever meet him with a smile, and with 
the kiss of affection; show that you love him 
by repeated acts of kindness; let your friend¬ 
ship be unbounded; try to beguile his unhappy 
hours in pleasant conversation. By so-doin" 
you may save yourself and children from an 
unhappy future. 
When a man is in trouble, it is but a little 
word that may ruin him; it is but a little word 
that may save him .—Merchants Ledger. 
A MOTHER’S SOLILOQUY. 
Tis refine. Bound to me by a tie that death 
cannot sever. That little heart shall never 
thrill wilh pleasure, or throb with pain without 
a quick response from mine. I am the centre 
of its little world, its very life depends on my 
faithful care. It is my sweet duty to deck 
these dimpled limbs, to poise that tinv tremb¬ 
ling foot: yet stay! My duty ends not here ? 
A soul looks forth from those blue eyes ! An 
undying spirit that shall plume its wing for a 
ceaseless flight, by my erring hand. 
I he hot blood of anger may not poison the 
fount whence it draws its life, or the hasty word 
escape my lip, in that pure presence. Way¬ 
ward, passionate, impulsive; how shall I ap¬ 
proach it, but with a hush upon my spirit and 
a silent prayer. 
Oh, careless sentinel slumber not at thy post 
of its trusting innocence ! 
Oh, reckless “ sower of the seed,” let not “ the 
tares spring up !” 
Oh, unskillful helmsman ; how shall thou pi¬ 
lot that little bark o’er life’s tempestuous sea, 
safely to the eternal shore 1 
“''118 ours ?” 
“A Father bends proudly over that little 
cradle 1 ’ A father’s love ! how strong ! how 
true! Lut oh, not so tender as hers, whose 
heart that babe hath lain beneath ! 
Fit me for the holy trust, oh Good Shepherd, 
or fold it early to thy loving bosom .—Fannu 
Fern. J 
MOTHER. 
Round the idea of one’s mother the mind of 
a man clings with fond affection. It is the first 
deep thought stamped upon our infant hearts 
when soft and capable of receiving the most 
profound impressions, and all the after feelings 
of the .world are more or less light in that 
comparison. I do not know that even in our 
old age we do not look back to that feeling as 
the sweetest we have through life. Our pas¬ 
sions and our wilfulness may lead us far from 
the object ot our filial love; we learn even to 
pain her heart, to oppose her wishes, to v iolate 
her commands; we may become wild, head¬ 
strong, and angry at her counsels, or opposi¬ 
tion; but when death has stilled her monitory 
voice, and nothing but calm memory remains 
to recapitulate her virtues and good deeds, af¬ 
fection, like a flower beaten to the ground by 
a past storm, raises up her head and smiles 
among her tears. Round that idea, as we have 
said, the mind clings with fond affection; and 
even when the earlier period of our loss forces 
memory to be silent, fancy takes the place of 
remembrance, and twines the image of our 
dead parent with a garland of graces, and 
beauties, and virtues we doubt not that she 
possessed .—Jam es. 
NY e ought not to isolate ourselves, for we 
cannot remain in a state of Isolation. Social 
intercourse makes us the more able to bear 
with ourselves and with others. 
Though reading and conversation may fur¬ 
nish us with many ideas of men and things, yet 
it is onr own meditations that must form our 
judgment. 
