[For the Rural New-Yorker.] 
POLITENESS VS. SELFISHNESS. 
ASCENT OF MOUNT POPOCATAPETL. 
tscdliniejuts. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 
’TlS midnight’s strange mysterious hour, 
And many a star is burning bright. 
And earth hath many a frosted flower, 
To wreathe its brow with silvered light^f 
The forest wears a garb of snow, 
An ermine robe of beauty rare; 
And starlight o’er it all doth throw 
A softened light, unearthly fair. 
And I have tried, yet all in vain, 
To still my heart’s wild throbbing now; 
But memories will come back again,— 
And shadows darken o’er my brow. 
Oil! there are thoughts of early years,— 
Of sleeping ones in churchyards laid, 
And bursting forth in bitter tears 
My heart has humbly hoping prayed,— 
That He, who holds the worlds e’er up, 
And clothes them with a gorgeous sheen, 
May bless to me each bitter cup, 
And my weak heart from sorrow screen. 
And light seems bursting from above, 
As if an angel's pinions shook 
Upon my bouI the light of love; 
And to himself the burden took. 
[ For the Rural New-Yorker.] 
APRIL.—ITS DERIVATION, &C. 
Abril, the second spring month, is so called 
from the Latin aperire, signifying to open. It 
is at the beginning of this month, that all na¬ 
ture seems to revive, and burst into living, ver¬ 
nal beauty. The coldness of winter is exchang¬ 
ed for warm sunshine, genial skies, and balmy 
air, and the sternest season of the year melts 
gently into the verge of early spring. The 
frost and snow covering the ground, melts at 
the breath of the soft south wind. The ice¬ 
bound streams are loosened and the glad wat¬ 
ers go leaping on in'their course, as wild and 
frolicsome as a thing of life. The primrose, at 
this early season, is first seen bursting up from 
the dark ground. The grass and flowers be¬ 
gin to cover the plain, and the buds of the 
trees to burst into living foliage. Hence its 
name, the opening month; because, plants and 
flowers, the animal and vegetable creation, ap¬ 
pear to enter upon a new life. 
By some the name is supposed to be de¬ 
rived from the Grecian goddess Aphrodite; 
for this month was consecrated to her. Feasts 
and games were celebrated in her honor. The 
joyous peasantry came forth to greet her with 
dance and choral song. They decked her tem¬ 
ple with evergreens, adorned it with floral 
wreathes, and burned sweet incense, as a votive 
offering, on her altar. Wherever she passed 
on the earth, grass grew beneath her feet, and 
love and desire attended her. The moist-blow¬ 
ing west-wind wafted her in soft foam along 
the waves of the sea. The golden Jillcling 
seasons received her, and clothed her in im¬ 
mortal garments. They placed a golden 
wreath on her head, rings in her ears, golden 
chains about her neck, and led her to the as¬ 
sembly of the immortals. The swan, the dove, 
and the sparrow were held sacred to her. The 
swallow, herald of spring, was also consecrat¬ 
ed to this goddess. Her favorite plants were 
the rose and the myrtle. Thus was named 
the lovely April, a season of glad sunshine, soft 
showers, balmy winds, and vernal flowers. 
The first day of April is generally denomi¬ 
nated “ all fools’-day.” This is an old custom, 
and has been transmitted from age to age, with 
little modification or variation. In the middle 
ages, it was usual to employ biblical scenes as 
a source of sportive amusement In this there 
was not supposed to be any disrespect shown 
to the sacred characters and holy representa¬ 
tions. The most exalted, pure, and ennobling 
scenes and incidents of the Scriptures were 
made the means of passing amusement. From 
such a practice may be traced the trick of 
“April Fooling.” It originated from a scene 
in the life of Jesus, where he is sent from Pilate 
to Herod and back again, and the same day, from 
Herod to Pilate. This is said to have occurred 
in the month of the Hebrew calendar corres¬ 
ponding to our month April. It is the custom 
in Germany to say of those who are thus de¬ 
ceived, “ sent from Pilate to Herod.” 
The Greeks are supposed to have received 
this game from the East. At one time it was 
quite common among the Greeks, and by them 
transmitted to the Romans. It has now be¬ 
come widely disseminated, and though it may 
be the source of trivial amusement and pleasure, 
for the time, it is in itself insignificant and con¬ 
temptible, and, it clearly evinces how preva¬ 
lent it is to receive and adopt the sentiments 
and practice of folly. a. j. e. 
A Short Sermon on Manliness. — Learn 
from the earliest days to inure your principles 
against the peril of ridicule; you can no more 
exercise your reason if you live in the constant 
dread of laughter, than you can enjoy your life 
if you are in constant dread of death. If you 
think it right to differ from the times, and to 
make a point of morals, do it however antiqua¬ 
ted, however pedantic, it may appear; do it not 
for insolence, but seriously — as a man who 
wore a soul of his own in his bosom, and did 
not wait till it was breathed into him by the 
breath of fashion .—Sidney Smith. 
“Nothing is lost by politeness, or gained by 
selfishness.” I recently had an opportunity of 
seeing the truth of the latter part of this prov¬ 
erb fully sustained. I was traveling on a route 
where the railroad cars are generally well filled, 
and took a seat at the earliest moment, to 
avoid the hurry and bustle that usually occur 
just previous to starting. The car was nearly 
full, when a gentleman (?) entered, with a lady 
very elaborately dressed leaning on his arm.— 
After taking a deliberate survey, they appro¬ 
priated two seats near the middle of the car, 
reversing one to hold their feet and carpet-bag. 
One person, then another, w’ould pause at that 
place as they passed into the car ; but finding 
no inclination on the part of the occupants to 
relinquish a seat, would pass on and find one 
elsewhere, but not till they had taken into the 
mind an impression of a face nearly hid by 
those hirsute appendages by which we are apt 
to measure the wearer’s mind ; a pair of inex¬ 
pressive eyes, and an air that plainly said, “ I 
am not to be disturbed.” 
At length, a stalwart Hibernian, who evi¬ 
dently enjoyed an immunity from the “ Maine 
law,” entered the car, and without saying “ By 
your leave,” plumped himself into the seat, from 
which the gentleman had scarcely time to jerk 
his feet, just saving them from the weight of 
Patrick's pressure. With amotion similar to 
that of a pea on a hot iron, the exquisite es¬ 
sayed to reverse the seat for Patrick, who was 
too well pleased as it was, to allow him to 
‘ throuble” himself. So there was no alterna¬ 
tive but to submit, as it would be too ill-bred 
to reverse their own seat and intrude on those 
behind them. 
Our exclusive looked as if he would like to 
knock the fellow over, but probably thought 
“ discretion the better part of valor,” and only 
endeavored to shield his companion’s face from 
the impertinent gaze of their vis-a-vis, and her 
elegant silk from contact with his brogans; from 
the aroma of rum and tobacco he could not 
shield her. Many who had watched them from 
the beginning, could not suppress a gleam of 
satisfaction. 
When the conductor came round, Patrick 
protested, in no very choice terms, that he had 
not money enough to pay his full fare, which 
was demanded in a peremptory manner, Pat¬ 
rick all the time increasing his vehemence.— 
You can easily imagine the feelings of the lady 
in such a proximity, but there was no escape. 
The conductor at length gave Pat two minutes 
to decide, either to pay the full fare or be eject- 
! ed from tHe car. He chose the former, and 
indemnified himself by muttering curses “ loud 
and deep,” in which the “ Saints” held a con¬ 
spicuous place. 
As we approached the next station, the 
couple made early and active preparations to 
leave the car, which they did the instant it 
stopped,—encountering, as they passed, the tit¬ 
terings of the passengers, as Pat expressed his 
regret with “Arrah, hinny, I’m sorry to part 
company wid ye.” I do not know whether 
they realized it, but the impression was strong 
on the minds of others, that “ nothing is gained 
by selfishness,” even in small matters. h. 
A BEAUTIFUL THOUGHT. 
We take the following beautiful passage 
from an address of Theodore Romeyau, Esq., 
of Detroit, before the literary societies of Rut¬ 
ger’s College, on “ our country and her claims.” 
“ As in the light of cultivated reason you 
look abroad, you see a wealth of beauty a pro¬ 
fusion of goodness in the work of Him who 
has strown flowers in the wilderness, and 
painted the bird, and enameled the insect. In 
the simplicity and most universal of his laws 
you can read this lesson. An uneducated man 
dreams not of the common sun-light, which 
now in its splendor floods the firmament and 
the landscape; he cannot comprehend how 
much of the loveliness of the world results from 
the composite character of light and from the 
reflecting properties of most Physical bodies.— 
If instead of red, yellow and blue, which the 
analysis of the prism and experiments of ab¬ 
sorption have shown to be its constituents, it 
had been homogeneous, simple, white, how 
changed would all have been. The growing 
corn and the ripe harvest, the blossom and the 
fruit, the fresh greenness of spring and autumn’s 
robe of many colors, the hues of the violet, the 
lily, and the rose, the silvery foam of the rivu¬ 
let, the emerald of the river, and the purple of 
the ocean, would have been alike unknown.— 
The rainbow would have been but a pale 
streak in the grey sky, and dull vapors would 
have canopied the sun, instead of the clouds, 
which in the dyes of flaming brilliancy curtain 
his rising up and going down. Nay, there 
would have been no distinction between the 
blood of children, the flush of health, the pale¬ 
ness of decay, the hectic of disease, and the liv¬ 
idness of death. There would have been an 
unvaried, unmeaning leaden hue, where we now 
see the changing and expressive countenance, 
the tinted earth and gorgeous firmament.” 
Never let us say of any thing whatsoever, 
that it happeneth by chance: there is nothing 
that hath not been concerted—nothing that 
hath not in it its own particular design and 
end, by which it forms a link in the chain of ap¬ 
pointed order. There is no such thing as 
chance. It is only the blindness of ignorance 
that talketh of things being strange, and un¬ 
accountable, and unlucky. —SL Basil 
Tiie following is an extract of a letter pub¬ 
lished in an English paper from the Hon. Ge¬ 
rard Noel, M. P., dated Mexico, Jan. 2, 1854, 
and describing his successful attempt to ascend 
Popocatapetl in the depth of winter: 
“ I returned yesterday from an expedition to 
Popocatapetl, the highest mountain in North 
America—17,000 feet above the level of the 
sea. I believe there is no record of an ascent 
before at this season of the year, although it 
has been frequently done in May and June.— 
The first night of our ascent we slept at a hut 
at the line where vegetation ceases and perpet¬ 
ual snow commences, and at 5£ the next morn¬ 
ing we started for the summit, one of the 
guides leading. At 8 o’ clock I found myself 
one hundred yards ahead of the rest of the 
party, (consisting of four,) at 9 out of sight of 
the party altogether, and at 11 o’clock I 
reached the crater. 
The crater is a vast basin, three miles in cir¬ 
cumference and 900 feet deep; in some parts 
perpendicular; in others great masses of pro¬ 
jecting rock form bold and stupendous out¬ 
lines, with enormous icicles hanging from every 
point. The volcano itself has long since ceased 
to show any signs of eruption. I began to 
feel very much benumbed with the cold, and my 
eves suffered a good deal from the glare of the 
snow. I should have been very glad of some¬ 
thing to eat, having had nothing but a cup of 
coffee and a biscuit before leaving the hut; 
but the guide who carried the breakfast had 
remained (the ruffian!) with the others who 
had not come up. Having examined the cra¬ 
ter for about a quarter of an hour, I told the 
guide, who had persevered with me, to lead 
the way up to the top. The fellow declared 
it was impossible; but not intending, as you 
may imagine, to give it up (having come so 
far) without any push, I started for the top 
alone. I was now only able to take three 
steps at a time without stopping, as my legs 
began to give way, and I had oppression of the 
head and chest 
A little after 1 P. M. I reached the top, and 
enjoyed one of the finest views conceivable of 
the great valley of Mexico, and looking down 
on the twin volcano (I forget the Mexican 
name, but in English it means the White La¬ 
dy, from its top resembling a woman lying in 
full length,) seemingly miles below me, but ac¬ 
tually only about 2,000 feet The cold was 
too intense for me to remain more than ten 
minutes at the top, and I commenced the de¬ 
scent to the crater. By this time the moun¬ 
tain was enveloped in clouds, and I could see 
nothing distinctly, so I commenced a further 
descent, and in a few moments came in sight of 
the pole of Mr. S——e (one of my canipag- 
nons du voyage ,) and soon after of himself, 
lying down, black in the face, and wishing to 
be let alone to die. A little lower down I saw 
Mr. C-d, rolling about like a drunken man, 
but still, with undoubted pluck, struggling to¬ 
ward the summit at the rate of about a yard 
in three minutes. However, after a little"rest 
and encouragement, they both rallied, and I 
returned with them as far as the muter, but no 
human effort could get them .any higher I at¬ 
tribute my being able to reach the top to my 
wind; I never felt want of breath at any time, 
while the others blew like porpoises. 
In our descent from the crater we encoun¬ 
tered the only real danger. At first the snow 
was good walking, but as we came lower, 
where the sun makes a sheet of ice of the sur¬ 
face of the snow, it became so slippery that we 
frequently lost our footing, and if, after a slip, 
you get so much impetus that you can’t stop 
yourself, the certainty is that you arrive at the 
bottom in much the same condition as the man 
who jumped off’ the monument. At one time 
I almost gave myself up. However, no acci¬ 
dent did happen, though it makes me creep to 
think of the slide I took. At five P. M. with 
my hands cut to bits, my nails worn to the 
quick with holding on, I reached the hut and 
there got my breakfast, glad to think it was 
over, as hungry as fourteen hour’s abstinence 
aud battling with 17,000 feet of mountain snow 
and ice could make me. One of my eyes is 
completely ‘bunged up,’ the other just enables 
me to see to write this. My face is a mass of 
raw flesh and blisters; but I have the satisfac¬ 
tion of having perched upon a higher moun¬ 
tain than exists in Europe, and climbed 2500 
feet nearer to heaven than Albert Smith.” 
DARK HOURS. 
There are dark hours that mark the history 
of the brightest year. For not a whole month 
in any of the millions past has the sun shorn? 
brilliantly all the time. And there have been 
cold and stormy days in every year. And yet 
the mists and shadows of the darkest hours 
were dissipated, and flitted heedless away.— 
The cruelest of ice fetters have been broken 
and dissolved, and the furious storm loses its 
power to harm. 
And what a parable is this all, of human life, 
of our inside world, where the heart works at 
its destined labors. Here, too, we have the 
overshadowing of dark hours, aud many a cold 
blast chills the heart to its core. But what 
matters it? Man is born a hero, and it is only 
by darkness and storm that heroism gains its 
greatest and best development and illustration 
—when it kindles the black cloud into a blaze 
of glory, and the storm bears it more rapidly 
to its destiny. Despair not, then. Never give 
up; while one good power is yours, use it.— 
Disappointment will be realized. Mortifying 
failure may attend this effort and that one;"but 
only be honest, work on, and all will be well. 
Beautiful. —Call not that man wretched, 
who, whatever else he suffers or pleasure de¬ 
nied, has a child for whom he doats. Poverty 
may grind him to dust, obscurity may cast its 
mantle over him, his voice may be unheeded 
by those among whom he dwells, and his fancy 
may be unknown by his neighbors—even pain 
may rack his joints—and sleep fly from his 
pillow—but he has a gem with which he would 
not part for the wealth defying computation, 
for fame filling a world’s ear, for tire highest 
power, for the sweetest sleep that ever fell on 
mortal eye. 
CONDUCTED BY A-E. 
EACH MOTHER'S LOVE THE BEST. 
As I walked over the hills one day, 
I listened and heard a mother sheep say : 
“ In all the green world there is nothing so sweet, 
As my little lammie with his nimble feet, 
With his eyes so bright, 
And his wool so white ; 
O, he is my darling, my heart’s delight. 
The robin, he 
That sings on the tree, 
Dearly may dote on his darling four; 
Bat I love my own little lambkin more.’’ 
So the mother sheep and the little one, 
Side by side lay down in the sun, 
And they went to sleep on the hill-side warm, • 
While my little lammie lies here on my arm. 
I went to the kitchen, and what did I see 
But the old gray cat, with her kittens three; 
I heard her whispering soft. Said she :— 
“ My kittens with tails all so cunningly curled, 
Are the prettiest things there can be in the world. 
The bird in the tree, 
And the old ewe she, 
May love their babes exceedingly; 
But I love my kittens from morn to night; 
Which is the prettiest I cannot tell, 
Which of the three, for the life of me, 
I love them all so well. 
So I’ll take up the kittens, the kittens I love, 
And we’ll lie down together beneath tire warm stove.” 
So the kittens lie under the stove so warm, 
While my little one lies here on my arm. 
I went to the yard and I saw the old hen. 
Go clucking around with her chickens ten ; 
And she clucked, and she scr atched, and she bristled away. 
And what do you think I heard the hen say r 
I heard her say : “ The sun never did shine 
On anything like to these chickens of mine; 
You may hunt the full moon and the stars if you please. 
But you never will And ten such chickens as these. 
The cat loves her kittens, the ewe loves her lamb. 
But they do not know what a proud mother I am; 
For lambs nor for kittens I wont part with these, 
Tho’ the sheep and the cat should go down on their knees. 
My dear, downy darlings, my sweet little things, 
Come nestle now cosily under my wings.” 
So the hen said. 
And the chickens sped. 
As fast as they could to their warm feather bed; 
And there let them lie, on their feathers so warm, 
While my little chick lies here on my arm. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
A CHAT WITH “KATE,” 
“Beauty when unadorned, is adorned the most.” 
Trite as is the proverb, and “barbarous” as 
was the author, I adopt it as a “ text,” and 
thank you, “ Kate,” for the suggestion. 
Am sorry I frightened any of your lady 
friends, but possibly your defence has reassured 
them. You head your article, “Another view;” 
yes, it is another view, of another subject,— 
entirely a new issue—slia’ut “join issue” with 
you, either. You call mine, a “wonderfully 
strvng aud inexplicable tirade.” Now, why 
inexplicable? I confessed ignorance, aud ask¬ 
ed to be enlightened—asked a few simple ques¬ 
tions. Kate, have you answered them ? — 
You say, “yet we girls cannot help thinking 
that there is no sin or shame in wearing little 
simple golden trinkets in our ears,” &c. — 
“ Trinkets,” you have it, not “ornaments”—and 
this is all the effort you have made to enlighten 
me on the subject Am sorry, and disappoint¬ 
ed too, for when I commenced reading your 
article, I hoped to have found an answer to 
some one of my queries. But you say, they 
are “ inexplicable,” and that is the conclusion 
I came to, when I tried to answer them myself 
—“ inexplicable!” 
I did not assail your “ring,” “band,” or 
“brooch,” Kate, —not one word of it The 
ring—a token of never-ending friendship—a 
beautiful emblem!—let it be both graceful and 
delicate—worn, not as an “ ornament but as 
a remembrancer. 
Yes, a “fence block” for a “keepsake” rath¬ 
er than have my ears perforated and ornament¬ 
ed with a glittering gift! 
True, Nature's God, infinite in all His attri¬ 
butes, has adorned, beautified and blessed all 
His works. Yes, He ornamented this round, 
rolling earth! He touched with His artist- 
pencil both the flower and fruit—coming from 
His workshop it was pronounced “good!”— 
And, are not ive creatures of his creation ?— 
as I said before, “ fashioned by a Divine Artist, 
aud made proportionate after a Divine Model?” 
Has He not “ornamented” us?—both man and 
woman? This body, the “clay treatment,” 
made beautiful in form aud feature, is orna¬ 
mented with a mind!—an immortal spirit dwells 
here !—not ornamented! Wouid you increase 
your attractions? add to your beauty?—culti¬ 
vate, and enrich the mind. It is all we have 
valuable. It is to live!—live eternally ! 
Does the suspending of a tawdry “ trinket ” 
from the ear, enlarge the capacity for thought, 
or strengthen the intellect? I say, no! Wheth¬ 
er it be 11 sin or shame” to wear them, let each 
one decide as he, or she pleases, but my opin¬ 
ion is, (immodest as it may be to give it,) they 
are no ornament. The whiskers and mous¬ 
tache are “Nature’s gift,” whether for protec¬ 
tion or ornament They may be given to man 
as a mark of manliness, to distinguish from, 
aud contrast with, the beauty and delicacy of 
woman. 
I believe you, Kate, when you say, “ a re¬ 
fined taste will always keep withiu bounds, the 
style of decoration,” and that “ a woman will 
show her judgment as well by her dressing, as 
by her mind.” But I would have it, she will 
show both the strength of her mind, and the 
soundness of her judgment by her dressing. 
“ Good bye,” Kate, and remember, 
Charlie Chestnut. 
[For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
AN EPISTLE TO CHARLEY FERN. 
A nd so “ Charley Fern” advertises for a 
wife, does he? Hear him—“True-eyed, well- 
educated, prepossessing appearance,” etc., etc. 
He doubtless supposes that every “country 
lassie, will set herself to work instanter, to see 
if she will possibly answer the requirement, as 
it is not often that a chance is offered for “ a 
partner who cannot tail to please;” and prob¬ 
ably he is anxiously awaiting the influx of let¬ 
ters, daguerreotypes, &c. We wonder he did 
not think of stipulating for the color of the 
hair. Ihen, in case he be as fortunate in re¬ 
ceiving samples or tokens (which?) from that 
article, as his western predecessor, (mentioned 
in the Rural,) he might perhaps, provide him¬ 
self with a wig for his old age. We would 
not accuse the western gentleman of mercenary 
motives, but it seems his capital has proved to 
have been remarkably well invested. His 
course will doubtless recommend itself to per¬ 
sons of small means, desirous of establishing 
themselves as dealers in fancy articles. 
But Charley leaves us in the dark in regard 
to his good qualities. Why does’nt he say 
something of himself ? 'Tis unnecessary, prob¬ 
ably. The girls will scarcely stop to think of 
that. This shows he has good sense to aviod 
superfluities. And what else, since we are left 
to our own conjectures, can we read of him? 
Of his personelle, we can of course judge lit¬ 
tle, tho’ he is doubtless “ good looking”—oth¬ 
erwise he would not, if he has the least sensi¬ 
tiveness, (and if he has not, he would “ fail to 
pleasfP most people,) wish for a companion 
who, with her “ comely face,” would constantly 
remind him of his own ugliness. And for a 
similar reason we judge that he is “ well-edu¬ 
cated;"’ it would wound him deeply to have for 
a partner, his superior in that respect 
He has simple tastes—it may be he is a 
farmer. He is a progressive individual—at 
least he does not prefer the old. We judge, 
too, from the Postscript, that he is rather lib¬ 
eral, believing that there are women who can 
keep secrets,—else, considering the character 
we gave him for avoiding superfluities, a part 
of that clause would have been omitted. That 
he has vanity, we infer from the passage already 
twice quoted, and from that, too, we know he 
is of a sanguine temperament. Vanity? Yes, 
“ Yanitas, vanitatum.” Fie, “ Charley Fern!” 
Nevertheless, success to you. 
Jessie G., 
“A black-eyed lassie, from the country.” 
TIIE PRETTY FORGET-ME-NOT. 
The Forget-me-not, that beautiful little flow¬ 
er of memory, with its blue, like the tint of the 
summer heavens, and its g’olden eye. bright as 
the eye of Hope itself, is consecrated not alone 
to the reminiscences of love, but also to those 
of love and friendship. The field forget-me- 
not, or myosostis arvensis is often assumed as 
the token-flower; but the true one is the water 
forget-me-not, myosotis polustris, whose flower 
is rather larger, and more intensely blue than 
that of its sister of the fields. The legendary 
origin of its name proves the claim of the 
aquatic species to be the real blossom of re¬ 
membrance. 
A German knight and his ladye-love were 
walking on the banks of the Danube, when the 
fair one saw a beautiful tuft of the myosotis 
polustris growing in the water, and expressed 
a wish to have it. The knight, with due chiv¬ 
alrous alacrity plunged at once into the river, 
in all his array, and gathered his prize; but be¬ 
fore he could climb up the steep and slippery 
bank, he was drawn by a treacherous eddy into 
a deep pool, and encumbered as he was, find¬ 
ing he could not save himself, just as he sank 
he threw the flower ashore to his mistress and 
uttered with his last breath—“ Vergriss mein 
nick!" (forget-me-not!) 
DOMESTIC DUTIES. 
The accomplished lady Mary Worthly Mon¬ 
tague, who figured in the fashionable as well 
as the literary circles of her time, has said that 
“ the most minute details of household econo- 
I my become elegant and refined when they are 
! ennobled by sentiment.” and they are truly en¬ 
nobled when we attend to them"either from a 
sense of duty, or consideration for a parent, or 
love to a husband. “ To furnish a room,” con¬ 
tinues this lady, “ is no longer a common-place 
affair, shared with upholsterers and cabinet¬ 
makers: it is decorating the place where I am 
to meet a friend or lover. To order dinner is 
not merely arranging a meal with my cook; it 
is preparing refreshments for him whom I love. 
These necessary occupations, viewed in this 
light by a person capable of strong attachments, 
are so many pleasures, and afford her far more 
delight than the games aud shows which con¬ 
stitute the amusements of the world.” 
Poetry reveals to us the leveliness of nature, 
j and brings back the freshness of youthful feel¬ 
ing, revives the relish of simple pleasures, keeps 
j unqueuched the enthusiasm which warmed the 
| spring-time of our being, refines youthful love, 
strengthens our interest in human nature by 
vivid delineations of its tenderest and softest 
feelings, and, through the brightest prophetic 
visions, helps faith to lay hold on the future 
life.— Channing. 
