MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
iscdlaiuffits. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
GATHER THE FRAGMENTS. 
BY 3 . W. BARKER. 
Gather the fragments, let nothing be lost, 
The smallest and poorest gather; 
It may be a “ trifle,” worth hardly the “ cost,” 
Yet gather them safely together;—• 
There’s never too much, but a garner for all, 
There is room for the great, and a place for the small. 
Gather the fragments, ye seldom will need, 
If ye carefully heed this direction ; 
’Twill fill all your coffers with i leniy indeed, 
And sweeten the cup of reflection; 
In the quiet long evening 'tis joyous to know, 
That nothing is hid by the rust or the snow. 
There's many a heart that would gladden with joy, 
Now sadly in penury pining, 
And many a hearth, where the taper of hope 
Is dimly and fitfully shining, 
Would gather new brightness and joy to receive 
The “valueless trifles” some carelessly leave. 
O gather the fragments—those moments of time, 
So swiftly and silently stealing, 
Away to the past, that dim mistv clime, 
Fad tales of our conduct revealing; 
Not a moment to squander—we've business to do, 
There's a duty for me, and a duty for you. 
Then up and be doing! no time for delay ! 
The hour to begin is the dawning of day, 
While the hale, cheerful voices of nature resound, 
From the earth to the sky, from the sky to the ground; 
Be active, be cautious, well counting the cost, 
And “gather the fragments, let nothing be lost.” 
Kendall Mills, N. Y., 1854. 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.J 
GENIUS AND WILL. 
“Name not to me again, that blockhead of 
a word,” said Miraijbau. “Impossible” said 
Napoleon, “is the adjective of fools.” Tims 
it was with the Corsican. There was implant¬ 
ed in his soul a great genius in combination 
with a strong and invincible will, which caused 
him, “a man known only to himself, to rise 
through all the gradations of honor” to the 
very pinnacle of earthly power; a combination, 
the power of which Alpine snows could not 
check, nor the burning sands of Egypt turn 
from its purpose; a torrent which no barrier 
might oppose, and before which kings and 
princes trembled. Though crushed to earth, 
vet he rose triumphant, nor was it till all Eu¬ 
rope brought its combined genius and united 
will to bear upon him, that his star, which had 
thus far shone pre-eminent in the political 
heavens, sank and was extinguished. To his 
genius are to be ascribed those vast concep¬ 
tions which have so startled the world; but to 
an invincible will was he indebted for their 
full realization. And the same principle, on 
which rested his greatness, may be found in the 
breast of every great man. Genius may lay 
the foundation, but will is the architect whose 
province it is to raise the superstructure.— 
What is there which it cannot accomplish? 
You might as well undertake to measure the 
Atlantic Ocean with a quart cup, as to set 
limits to its power. 
Mark its effects upon the student While 
following the plow, shoving the jack-plane, or 
perchance, plying the art taught in the school 
of St. Crispen, it whispers to him, at first in the 
idle vagaries of a dream, then in the clearer 
tones of a still small voice, urging him to leave 
his humble and unhonored, though useful em¬ 
ployment, and seek for fame at learning’s shrine 
Its suggestions may be smothered for a time, 
but, like the long pent-up fires of the volcano, 
it bursts forth at length, scattering to the winds 
every obstacle. Poverty may sit heavily upon 
his shoulders, but it is powerless for turning 
him aside. ^Eneas-like, he breasts every wave 
of opposition, and if perchance repulsed from 
one shore, only turns to another; for, far in the 
future, his eye rests upon a rich reward for all 
his toils. 
“ Not Juno's hate, nor Eolus’ howling winds, 
Have power lo swerve him from liia high resolve.” 
Under the impulse of will, he presses forward 
with never wearying ardor, up the steep and 
difficult paths leading to the temple, pictured 
in Webster’s Elementary, as standing on the 
summit of the hill of science, far above the 
mists and clouds of Ignorance. Step by step 
as he advances, new fields for observation are 
spread out before him, and his eyes arc contin¬ 
ually feasted upon some new beauty in the in¬ 
tellectual landscape. Ilis powers of mind ex¬ 
pand, and new powers are given him. That 
which Ixilbre may have seemed a task, becomes 
a pleasure, compared with which, all others 
sink into insignificance. Armed with knowl¬ 
edge, which is power, he descends into the dark 
caverns of the earth, bringing forth her hidden 
treasures, analyzing them, and describing all 
their properties, qualities, and relations. On 
the wings of imagination, which science has 
plumed and directed, he mounts into the firma¬ 
ment, scanning with his far reaching eye the 
mysteries and sublimities of the starry hosts; 
calculating with mathematical precision, their 
magnitudes, distances and proportions; their 
atmospheres, mountains, hills and valleys, and, 
I had almost said, the complexion and charac¬ 
ter of the inhabitants. lie follows the won¬ 
drous comet during the lapse of ages in its 
fiiu'Ut to the confines of the Universe, calcula¬ 
ting to a second, the time of its return. The 
times and causes of eclipses are as clear to him 
as the noon-day sun. His genius beholds the 
oak of the forest and conceives its uses. His 
will steps in, and as its fruits, we behold houses, 
temples and ships. His genius discovers the 
power hidden in the drop of water; his will 
imprisons it in the boiler of the locomotive.— 
The great mind of Fulton conceived the idea 
of steam navigation, and, in spite of the sneers 
of an unbelieving world, hi3 will demonstrated 
its feasibility. With Franklin, he discovers 
the nature of the forked lightning; with Morse, 
he changes it into a news carrier. How often 
might the noble Washington have despaired 
of success when he beheld the enemy, flushed 
with victory, exulting over the forlorn and al¬ 
most vanquished army of the colonies, had not 
the Genius of Liberty reigned in his soul, 
seconded by un invincible resting on a God of 
justice. 
Much has been, and is said of genius. Her 
votaries, who can number them ? We behold 
them here, there, on every hand. Happy in¬ 
deed is he called who is numbered among her 
sons. But genius , unaided by will, is power¬ 
less. The literary butterflies flit around the 
dazzling light until they are thoroughly en¬ 
tangled in her meshes, when, like a heartless 
coquette, she forsakes them, and they find their 
only reward to be a pair of singed and crippled 
wings. Such is the fate of all who depend on 
simple, unaided genius. It is an iron will 
which must elevate man to his proper sphere. 
Poe was a genius, but lacking the will, he 
found a home in the drunkard’s grave. 
Many a man possesses a genius which lies dor¬ 
mant. till some “ accident,” as it is called, shall 
rouse his. will, when it shines forth in all its 
•*<T , _ 
lustre. "It is said of the great Dr. Adam 
Clarke, that “ 1 le wa3 the greatest dunce in 
school, until one day the master threatened to 
pull his ears as long as Jowler’s, which so 
roused his ambition that the teacher was often 
wearied with the length of his lessons.” When 
Berzelius, the great Swedish chemist, left 
school for the University, “Indifferent in be. 
havior and of doubtful hope,” was scored 
against his name; and at the age of nineteen 
lie was taunted with the inquiry, “If he knew 
the difference between a laboratory and a kitch¬ 
en.” Sheridan was pronounced an “ incorrigi¬ 
ble dunce,” in which his mother fully agreed. 
Carracci was advised by his masters to “ con¬ 
fine his ambition to the grinding of colors; 
and yet, the world delights to call him one of 
the great painters of his day. Such examples 
are numerous, showing conclusively, that on 
the will depends success iu life as much as on 
genius. 
The man who flinches from no toil, who 
cowers before no foe, and who places his sole 
confidence in God, cannot be otherwise than 
great When he once resolves upon a course 
of conduct, and believes, and knows it to be 
the path of duty, he is as unmovable as the 
hills. You might as well attempt to hurl im¬ 
perial Jupiter from his Olympic throne, as to 
move him, for, “ He is founded upon a rock,” 
which all the storms and tempests of the uni¬ 
verse cannot shake. He is a man. Not a 
mere biped, endowed with the faculty of speech, 
and whose only aim is to cheat the world out 
of a liviug iu the easiest possible manner, but 
a man in whom resides a spirit which augels 
may delight to own as brother. He lives to do 
good and to bless his fellow man. The Bible 
is the law book to which he turns for prece¬ 
dents, and from which he draws all his conclu¬ 
sions of right and wrong. He is honored as 
one of the few who live to fulfill the object of 
their creation. And when he sleeps in death, 
a monument is erected to his memory in the 
hearts of the people, and upon the face of that 
monument is engraved in characters which 
time shall not erase, the last words of the im¬ 
mortal Webster, “ I still live!” 
Geuceee College, Feb., 1854. T. D. TOOKER. 
CRUISE IN THE MEDITERRANEAN. 
At Naples we had a fine view of the city 
and its environs. Vesuvius looked precisely as 
it stands. The weather was cold, and the 
wind high and towards the coast of Sicily.— 
But as we approached the straits of Messina, it 
was very fine. The fabled Scylla and Chary b- 
dis have lost all the charm of ancient story.— 
Steam strips them of all their glory, and we 
passed them all too quick. The passage of 
this narrow strait is very pleasant. There are 
no rocks on one side, or whirlpool on the other, 
to endanger the passage. Instead, the moun¬ 
tain comes down to the water on the Italian 
(Scylla) side, and a long, low, sandy point, 
projects on the other in a quiet cove, behind 
which is the town of Messina We passed in 
plain sight of Mount Etna, and arrived here 
the 7th inst. AVe have here the most charm¬ 
ing climate. Frost is unknown. AVe have 
beautiful, clear sunshine, plants growing, and 
flowers opening in the sun. Flies are sporting 
in the air, and the lazy and the idle of the pop¬ 
ulation are lying upon the parapets, &c., to en¬ 
joy the grateful weather. This is a most 
interesting island. AVe associate it, first, with 
the idea that St. Paul was wrecked here, and 
fiext, with the history of the Knights of the 
Order of St. John. It is argued, with great 
force, that St. Paul was wrecked upon an 
island in the Adriatic sea, and some of those 
best entitled to confidence consider the argu¬ 
ment conclusive. 
But the Knights of Malta were a wonderful 
association of men. They held the island 
from 1630, under a grant from Charles the 
Fifth, of Spain, till 1798, when they surrender¬ 
ed to Bonaparte. These knights were highly 
educated, were influenced by a religious zeal, 
and were a band of most powerful and success¬ 
ful robbers. They commenced a city upon an 
organized and complete plan, and built it all 
perfect: and here it stands, just as they left it. 
They established a library, which we have vis¬ 
ited. It contains a vast amount of learning, of 
old copies, manuscripts, &c. They provided 
for the permanent enlargement of the library. 
They built churches all over the island. The 
great church of St. John has the largest and 
most perfect mosaic floor in the world. Every 
portion of the floor, (and it is very large,) is 
covered by tablets, each distinct and perfect, 
beautifully wrought with Latin descriptions of 
the worth and valor of the knight who sleeps 
below the slab. It is scarcely possible to con¬ 
ceive the beauty of this church and floor.— 
Usually the latter is carefully covered with 
matting. AVe saw it clean and clear. The 
slabs are usually about seven feet long, and 
four feet wide, each wrought most perfectly 
with a border, and then the arms, &c.; of 
course no two are alike. The walls, the ceil¬ 
ing, &e., are all finely painted in fresco. The 
houses of the city (Yaletta) are the same that 
the knights built for their occupancy. AVe 
iive in one of them. The ceiling of our room 
is over twenty feet high. The whole island is 
a rock which is easily worked. The town is 
strongly fortified—the ditches around it (exca¬ 
vated in the rock) are of great depth and width, 
and the stone taken out served to construct 
the walls and bastions. There is but one gate 
out from the city towards the land; beyond 
which there is a constant succession of batter¬ 
ies for three-quarters of a mile. Every port 
upon the water is protected by an extent of 
bastion, curtain, <fcc., that is wonderful. Here 
are a considerable body of British troops, 
who are scattered through the various ports, 
&c. There are sentinels all over the town.— 
There is no need of this, for everything is per¬ 
fectly quiet and innocent AVe witness the re¬ 
views of the troops, and we listen to the mar¬ 
tial aire of their music, and then we think that 
upon every quarter of the globe there is the 
same manifestation of the power of this won¬ 
derful nation. 
Jffir % JitAifS. 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] 
WORK GOES WRONG. 
now much mn he Leave? —This question is 
asked concerning the property of every rich 
man that dies, and it was answered very happily 
by Cloots, who was executor upon the estate 
of the late Mr. Snodgrass, of this ilk. His 
neighbor, Air. Nailrod, was an exceeding in¬ 
quisitive man, aud it was his pride that he knew 
as much almost of the affairs of the people as 
they did themselves. But Mr. Snodgrass has 
never been communicative, and all that he could 
glean of his circumstances was from the guesses 
and speculations of outsiders. The day after 
his neighbor had been put into the earth, 
Nailrod visited Cloots, aud with an expecting 
face began to question him. Says he, “Air. 
Cloots, if it is uot an improper—I wouldn’t 
wish to ask the question if it is the least im¬ 
proper, nor expect you to answer it—will you 
toll me how much my friend Snodgrass left ?” 
“Certainly,” said Cloots; “don't see the least 
impropriety in your asking, and am perfectly 
willing to answer it. He left every cent he 
was worth in this world, and didn't take a cop¬ 
per with him.” 
Decision of Character. —There is nothing 
more to be esteemed than a manly firmness and 
decision of character. I like a person who 
knows his own mind and sticks to it; who sees 
at once what is to be (lone in given circum¬ 
stances and does it. He does not beat about 
the bush for difficulties or excuses, but goes 
the shortest and most effectual way to obtain 
his own ends, or to accomplish a useful object. 
If he can serve you, he will; if he cannot, he 
will say so. 
Spare the Feelings. —If persons would re¬ 
flect but a momeut before giving utterance to 
words or expressions that are calculated to in¬ 
jure the feelings or mar the happiness of oth¬ 
ers, how many moments of mental anguish 
that are known only to the deeply sensitive 
heart, might be spared! How many burning 
tears, that have rushed unbidden to the eye, 
might have remained locked up within their 
fountains! How often, from some thoughtless 
word or insinuation, have we seen the. cheerful 
countenance and cloudless brow mantled in 
shadow and gloom, and witnessed the strug¬ 
gling effort to repress the sigh that burst from 
the depths of the wounded soul. There is no 
quality of the mind or heart more elevating to 
its possessor, or more characteristic of the true 
lady or gentleman, than that by which we are 
admonished to respect the feelings and frailties 
of others. Genuine politeness does not con¬ 
sist in conforming to certain rules and customs, 
but in an amiable and benevolent disposition 
that imparts a feeling of confidence and ease. 
i run. 
J t 
: ni>' 
ietwe«r^P 
Ottr correspondent, Mrs. Sophia W. Lloyd, gives ns 
below an amusing picture of a household, where work 
goes wrong. She will at some future lime give us also, a 
t home picture of a household where “work goes right.” 
Weary, weary, household work, 
How 1 hate your endless store, 
Treading ever day by day, 
Still the same dull pathway o'er, 
Washing, starching, pickling, churning, 
Dressing sauce, and coffee burning, 
Sweeping, dusting, ironing, mending, 
All well spiced with baby tending; 
Making beds, and dressing fishes, 
Laying tables, washing dishes, 
Scouring, baking, and preserving, 
Is the routine that ye serve in. 
Oh! a toilsome, weary life. 
Of it has the poor housewife, 
Rising oft before the sun, 
Working till his race is run. 
Scarcely is the breakfast^ 
Dinner thrusts its claim; 
And there’s little rest I 
Breakfast, dinner, tea, be twee! 
If it ever chance that you 
Think a “picked up” meal will do. 
Just as surely there will be 
A house full of company. 
If perchance you wish to look 
In a paper or a book, 
To refresh a little bit 
Your remembrance, or your wit. 
Bump! there goes a baby’s head 
Charley’s fallen out of bed! 
Should you steal a minute’s time. 
Just to put a thought in rhyme, 
Letting all the housework go, 
May be for an hour or so, 
Long before your musings o’er, 
There’s a hand upon the door; 
And you read in husband’s face, 
“This is sadly out of place!” 
Turning from his scolding eye. 
What confusion you descry; 
Every drawer’s open wide, 
All the contents are outside; 
You can scarcely cross the floor 
’Tis so Uttered o’er and o’er. 
Dick has gone—you know not where, 
Charley sleeps beside a chair, 
Tired of mischief, tired of fun. 
Resting now his work is done. 
You have not a word to say. 
But you wipe a tear away, 
Silently resolving there. 
Never more to steal from care, 
While you lead the three-fold life, 
Kitchen, nursery-maid, and wife. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
HUSBANDS, SAVE YOUR WIVES. 
many little cares and duties, imposed on ber 
by the reckless selfishness of her liege lord—it is 
not only a little^ord that will save her, but it 
is the many and continued deeds of kindness 
and sympathy due her from the man of her 
choice, which may save her from an early ^%e, 
and his children from becoming orphans. 
A Farmer’s Wife. 
Newark, N. Y., March, 1853. 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] 
“ORNAMENTS.”— ANOTHER VIEW. 
“Charlie Chestnut,” in a late number of 
the Rural, almost frightened many of its lady 
readers, by his wonderfully strong and inex¬ 
plicable tirade on “Ornaments;” so that we 
girls are astonished that the proverbial quota¬ 
tion of the barbarous old bard did not head 
his chapter as a text—“ Beauty when unadorn¬ 
ed is adorned the most” 
Now we do not wish to enter into a discus¬ 
sion on the difference between the sublime and 
ridiculous,—nor on the chief constituents of 
beauty,—yet we girls cannot help thinking 
that there is no sin or shame in wearing little, 
simple golden trinkets in our ears, (perhaps 
Charlie’s are long enough without!)—a band 
on the wrist, or a brooch upon the neck.— 
Recollect, we do not mean a band as large as 
an Aztec Princess’ bracelet—or a cameo big 
as a buckwheat pancake — but something 
graceful as the tendril of a flower, and a clasp 
delicate as its blossom. 
And when one’s friends go their ways on the 
life-path, the ring running round the finger is 
a remembrancer, and brings back the face over 
distance and the miles, suggested by the me¬ 
mento to the # recollection. Perhaps Charlie 
Chestnut —hard wood as he is—would like a 
“ fence block” for a keepsake. 
And farther, do not men wear hair long and 
curly, for ornaments ? — and whiskers and 
moustaches ? Who knows, indeed, but that 
Air. Chestnut himself wears pantaloons figured 
with strange devices, resembling Mitchells 
outline maps—and his limbs do not, thus cased, 
take away any cultivation from his mind, puri¬ 
ty from his spirit, or warmth from his heart. 
Nature, we opine, has set us an admirable 
example—not only dressing up the fields and 
’gardens in greenness, but ornamenting them 
with beauty and blossom,—crimson bell, and 
golden cup, mossy rose and pendant lily, orna¬ 
ment, aye ornament, the wilderness and the 
lawn—for our eyes are given us to see, as our 
ears are given us to hear, and we ought no 
more to eschew the embellishment of our per¬ 
sons when the flowers are here, or gone—with 
mimic gold and coral—than we should banish 
the music from our firesides, because the birds 
no more carol “ their sweet wood notes wild.” 
Men do not, of course, add to their manli¬ 
ness by those attractions that grace women.— 
AVe would hardly think it in keeping of the 
Not from California, but from an untimely 
and premature grave. There are two sides to 
all questions, and ought to be with husband 
and wife. If the wife has not her equal rights 
she has her eqdal wrongs, and is equally sensi¬ 
tive, and as keenly and deeply feels those 
wrongs. How often do we hear of a woman’s 
going to California, Australia, or some other 
place, because she is not happy at home ? 
Who ever head of a mother (one who is wor¬ 
thy the name,) leaving the little pledges of her j ^ j t ~~ blossom I5ke the rose l_ or the 
Our Status on the Calendar. —That very 
common question, “Where are we?” the Amer¬ 
ican Almanac answers quite specifically. From 
its tables we gather these important facts: 
We are in the 78th year of the Independence 
of the United States. 
In the 1855th year of the Christian era. 
The 5567th year of the Julian period. 
The 56I4tli year of the world, Jewish reck¬ 
oning. 
The 2606th year since the foundation of 
Rome, and 
The 2630th year of Olympiads, or the 2d 
year of 658th Olympiad, beginning in July, 
1853; and, moreover, we are in the 1270th 
year since the Hegira, or Flight of Mahomet. 
That’s about where we are, at this present 
writing. 
Originality. — Originality! what do they 
mean by it? The action of the world upon us 
commences with the hour of our birth, aud 
ends only with our death. It is here and there 
and everywhere. There is nothing we can 
claim as our home, but energy, strength, and 
volition. Very little of me would be left, if I 
could but say what I owe to my great prede- 
cessors aud contemporaries. 
vows and early love, because she was unhappy 
at home ? What! leave her tender offspring, 
dearer to her than life itself, to the cold and 
pitiless frowns of an unfeeling world, and a 
father who can never feel that deep and holy 
affection which belongs only to a mother?— 
AVhen weighed down with a multitude of anx¬ 
ious cares and vexations, her husband, “ who 
should be the first to stand by and encourage 
her,” is the first to point the finger of scorn, 
and say, “ It is your own fault. — why is it this 
or that one’s house and family are so well reg¬ 
ulated ? If you had the government you 
might have, you would not be where you now 
are.” These, and other like insinuations often 
drive a woman, not to other society, and other 
pleasures—but they siuk deep, deep in that 
tender, throbbing heart which once beat with 
strong and fervent love for the man who en¬ 
ticed and beguiled her from her once happy 
home, from warm and affectionate hearts. Is 
it a wonder, then, so many young and tender 
plants that are transplanted from warm and 
genial climes, into such cold and sterile soils, 
ihould so soon droop, fade, and die ? 
Now, I would say to—not all, for thank God 
all husbands are not cynics and tyrants, but to 
those whom the coat fits,—deal gently with 
her who is cumbered with a thousand and one 
cares and troubles, the sterner and stronger sex 
know nothing of; remember she is very sensi¬ 
tive to your smiles or frowns, because she loves 
you. A harsh and thoughtless word, carelessly 
uttered, may inflict a wound on a burdened 
and troubled heart, which time can never heal- 
Then be cautious ; woman is not an angel, as 
man expects her to be, but like himself is hu¬ 
man and liable to err. What you see amiss in 
her, kindly reprove, with the smile of affection; 
show that you love her as you once did, by re¬ 
peated acts of kindness; “ try to beguile her 
unhappy, dark and gloomy hours, by the bright 
sunshine of your pleasant countenance.” By 
so doing you will fill your own cup with con¬ 
nubial happiness, for her perceptible and feel¬ 
ing heart will overflow with gratitude and 
affection, and your kind attentions will be re¬ 
turned seven fold. 
“ When a woman is in trouble ”—her spirits 
sadly depressed by sickness, and the weight of 
* An echo to article entitled “Wives, Save your Hus¬ 
bands,” published in a late number of the Rural. 
I 
chestnut to give no perfume like the violet.— 
A “refined taste” will always keep within 
bounds the style of decoration, and a woman, 
poor or rich, will show her judgment as well by 
her dressing, as by her mind. 
Good bye, Charlie Chestnut, and remem¬ 
ber the tree whose name you adopt, is not re¬ 
nowned for the smallness or modesty of its 
blooming. Kate. 
Canajoharie, N. Y., 1854. 
EDUCATION OF FEMALES IN FRANCE. 
The Paris correspondent of the JYew York 
Courier, in a late letter, makes suggestions 
which are worth attention. He says : 
“ In France the ladies are educated in a man¬ 
ner to make them most agreeable in society, 
and, while all are taught to keep the accounts 
of household expenses, many among the poor¬ 
er classes are taught book-keeping so thor¬ 
oughly as to enable them to follow it as a pro¬ 
fession. In almost every Paris shop, conse¬ 
quently, the books are kept either by the wife 
or shop-keeper, or by some other female em¬ 
ployed for the purpose. Thus the French sys¬ 
tem is to teach females the useful or agreeable, 
according to their worldly condition. Our 
American system is, to teach them a little of 
everything ; in fact, we take more pains with 
them than with our boys, though it would seem 
from the results that hitherto our efforts have 
been none too well directed. While we have 
female seminaries and colleges in which degrees 
are conferred, and which produce many shal¬ 
low and discontented philosophers who immod¬ 
estly take the rostrum at public meetings, and 
have ' egun to invade the pulpit, wo have very 
few who can take charge of a husband’s count¬ 
ing-room, while he is engaged in the direction 
of other departments of his business. In Paris 
you buy a" carpet of your upholsterer, who 
shows the goods, makes all of the necessary 
explanations, and sends it home. But when 
you pay, you walk to the neat mahogany desk 
where Madame sits enthroned behind her large 
folio ledger, and it is with her you regulate the 
accounts. The French tradesman’s wife takes 
an active, useful and appropriate part in the 
management of affairs ; she knows to what ex¬ 
tent the business is prosperous, and is therefore 
never in danger, like American wives, of de¬ 
manding a new carriage or other extravagan¬ 
ces when her husband is on the point of failing.” 
'A nation cannot become degraded while 
the women remain intelligent aud virtuous. A 
virtuous woman sometimes has a brute of a 
husband, and an exemplary mother a wretch of 
a son—but these are individual instances. 
