177 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND EMILY NEWSPAPER. 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.} 
LIFE. 
BY MRS. JKffNY A. BTONB. 
A streamlet dashed in its sparkling pride, 
Leaping in foam from the mountain side, 
And a dimpled infant wanderedthere 
Catching the drops in his sunny hair; 
His laugh rang out like a silver bell, 
But wildly he wept as the darkness fell. 
A smile and a tear! 
A hope and a fear I 
And such ia the life of mortals h-ro. 
A maiden gazed on a loved one's brow, 
And listened again to a murmured tow, 
The love-light flashed from her earnest eye, 
Like a sudden star in a midnight sky ; 
But the gleam went out as a lading wun, 
Weeping for him, the faithless one. 
A smile and a tear I 
A hope and a fear 1 
And this is the life of moinils here. 
A mother gazed on an infant’s face. 
Seeking a lost one’s smile to trace; 
He had gone before to the silent land, 
And she meekly bowed to the chastening hand, 
For her child she lived,—hut the baby slept, 
And alone the stricken mother wept. 
A smile and a tear 1 
A hope and a fear 1 
’Tis madness to laugh in a mourner’s ear. 
An old man lay on the bed of death, 
And his bosom heaved with his labored breath, 
Through the wide, wide world no more to roam, 
He \v:is nearing his rest and final home ; 
And he passed away like the day-Leain's light, 
Fading so softly away from sight. 
A smile and a tear I 
A hope and a fear 1 
So endetli the life of mortals here. 
LITERARY PIRACY. 
WnF.x the editor of a daily or weekly news¬ 
paper steals an article from one of his cotem¬ 
poraries, and leads it out as editorial, he very 
justly lays himself open to the charge of litera¬ 
ry piracy, and is generally handled without 
gloves or mercy, by him whose brain-labor he 
has thus unscrupulously appropriated. There 
arc a thousand new articles, chaste and beau¬ 
tiful, going- the rounds from week to week, 
which the united judgment of the conductors 
of the press approves. They seize upon them 
instinctively, and re-publish for the benefit of 
their own readers. When and where these 
articles originated, it is impossible to tell. One 
copies a paper from the origiual, and neglects 
or fails to give credit; and then it passes from 
one to another, enlarging with each succeeding 
reproduction its sphere of usefulness, until 
nearly the whole reading public is made ac¬ 
quainted with its contents. It would be a 
matter of astonishment to a person uninitiated 
in the mysteries of the Sanctum, if lie should 
look over for a week, the large list of exchan¬ 
ges in any extensive newspaper office, and ob¬ 
serve the nearly simultaneous publication of a 
new and choice literary article, after it has 
passed first, or at least second hands. 
Many of the copyists will give due credit 
where they can, and most, (not all,) will set 
the article up solid, which is notice, at least to 
the craft, that it does not originate with 
them. They would be quite willing to give 
the original publication credit for the article, if 
they knew where to bestow it; but that being- 
out of their power, they do the next most 
honorable tiling, in the way above mentioned. 
There is, however, a class of exceptions to 
this rule of “honorable mention,” existing in 
our country; and that is in those wide circulat¬ 
ing periodicals, which make up a large portion 
•of their contents, and that the most interesting 
portion, out of the pickings and gleanings of 
foreign periodicals and reviews. Blackwood, 
the Edinburgh, Westminster, North British, 
the London Quarterly, Chambers’ Journal, 
Household Words, and others, are laid under 
contribution, and their choicest articles appro¬ 
priated without mercy, and no credit given 
therefor. They are not even set solid, as a 
sign of non-originality; but they appear as 
editorials, and go forth as such to the world. 
Among the giant appropriators, Harpers’ Mag¬ 
azine stands out conspicuous, and gains popu¬ 
larity and extensive circulation out of the fruits 
of other men’s labors. The May number of 
this popular periodical is an illustration in 
point, where two or three, at least, of its most 
elaborate productions are thus unscrupulously 
obtained. One in particular, an interesting 
paper entitled “Shots and Shells,” is taken 
from No. 3 of Chambers’ Edinburgh Journal; 
and it is at this moment being re-published by 
the country newspapers, and credited to Har¬ 
pers' Magazine. To this credit a prefix ought 
at least to be added, so as to make it read,— 
Stolen by Harpers’ Magazine. 
It is true that these articles read just ns well 
at second hand, and there is no international 
copy-right to prevent their appropriation; and 
it is equally true that there are like literary 
piracies practiced on the other side ^>f the 
Atlantic; but that is no argument against the 
adoption of the world-wide motto, “honor 
among thieves.” Chambers, in the very num¬ 
ber which publishes originally “Shots and 
Shells,” has several selections which are cred¬ 
ited to an “American Paper.” 
Very many of the thirty presses which were 
burnt in the great fire that lately destroyed 
Hampers’ publishing house, were running on 
matter, the copy-right of which cost the pub¬ 
lishers absolutely nothing. 
POWER OF TLFE HUMAN INTELLECT. 
Nothing illustrates the power of the human 
intellect more forcibly than the discoveries 
made in the field of Astronomy. Assisted by 
that potent instrument the telescope, which 
bears his vision forward into the realms of il¬ 
limitable space, and led on to inevitable and 
unmistakable conclusions by mathematics, 
that handmaiden of the exact sciences, man is 
enabled to read the arcana of nature, and to 
penetrate into the very council-chamber of the 
Almighty. 
To one unaccustomed to such studies, it 
seem3 an unmitigated piece of assumption for 
the astronomer to say that such a planetary* 
body moves through space at precisely so 
many millions of miles from the solar centre; 
that it progresses at such a rate of speed per 
hour; is of a certain dimension, and of such a 
density as compared with our own sphere.— 
And yet all these things are determined as ac¬ 
curately, and with as much precision as the 
topographer measures an are on the earth’s sur¬ 
face, as a railway engineer measures his rate of 
speed by the mile-posts along his iron way, or 
the weigh-master at the lock balances upon 
the scale the united weight of a canal boat and 
its cargo. 
If any doubts exist in respect to the ability 
possessed by astronomers of determining all 
these things, and a thousand others equally as¬ 
tonishing, such doubts must be abandoned 
when we reflect upon the surprising accuracy 
with which they calculate, years before, the 
moment of an eclipse, the precise path it will 
take, the width of total obscuration, the length 
of its duration, and time of disappearance.— 
Two celestial bodies moving, one around the 
other, and both around a central luminary 
with the planes of their orbits not coincident, 
and both subject to disturbances and aberra¬ 
tions from the attractions of other planets, and 
moving at unequal rates and in elliptic curves, 
are so traced by the wand of the astronomer, 
that the whole world is made aware of the 
time the one casts its shadow on the other; 
und millions of eyes are turned at the precise 
moment to gaze upon the unwonted phenom¬ 
enon. Surely such a result proves that “ man 
is created a little lower than the angels”—and 
the prediction of the late remarkable solar 
eclipse, and the exact fulfilment of that predic¬ 
tion, are the forcible illustrations of the declar¬ 
ation. 
HOPE AND MEMORY. 
An old Poem of the North tells of a brave 
boy, who in his earlier days found his mother’s 
cottage too narrow, mourned at tending the 
goats on the mountain side, and felt his heart 
swell in him like a brook front the melting ol 
the snow, when he saw a ship shoot like an 
arrow into the bay. He ran from his mother 
and the goats, 'the Viking took him on board. 
The wind swelled the sails. He saw the hill¬ 
top sink in the blue deep, and he was riotously 
glad. He took his fatber’s sword in hand and 
swore to conquer him houses and land by the 
sea. He also is a Viking. lie has been all 
over the Mediterranean coast, and conquered 
him houses and land by the sea. But now, in 
his old age, his palace in Byzantium is a weari¬ 
ness to him, and he longs for the cottage of his 
mother, lie dreams of the goats; all day the 
kills bleat for him. lie enters a bark; he sails 
for the Scandinavian coast, and goes to the 
very cottage too narrow for his childhood, and 
eats again the barken bread of Sweden, and 
drinks its bitter beer; bares his forehead to 
the storm; sits on the rocks, and there he dies. 
“ Bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt,” said 
old Jacob, “ But 1 will lie with my fathers; 
bury me in their burying place.” 
The scholar becomes antiquary; lie likes not 
young men unless he knew their grandfathers 
before. The young woman looks in the news¬ 
paper for the mat riages, the old man for the 
deaths. The young man’s eye looks forward; 
the world is “ all before him, where to choose.” 
It is a hard world; he does not know it; he 
works little, and hopes much. The middle- 
aged man looks round at the present; he has 
fouud out that it is a hard world; lie hopes less, 
and works more. 
The old man looks back on the fields he has 
trod; “this is the tree 1 planted; this is my 
footstep;” and he loves his old house, cat, dog, 
stall; and friend. 
In lands where the vine grows, I hare seen 
an old man sit all day long, a sunny autumn 
day, before his cottage door, in an old arm 
chair, his dog crouched at his feet in the genial 
sun. The autumn wind played with the old 
man’s venerable hairs; abuve him on the wall, 
purpling in the sunlight, hung the full clusters 
of the grape, ripening and maturing yet more. 
The two were just alike; the wind stirred the 
vine leaves, and they fell; .stirred the old man’s 
hair, and it whitened yet more. Both were 
waiting for the spirit in them to be fully ripe. 
The young man looks forward, the old man 
looks back, llow long the shadows lie in the 
setting suit; the steeple a mile long, reaching 
across the plain, as the sun stretches out the 
hills in grotesque dimensions. So are the 
events of life in the old man’s memory.— Theo¬ 
dore Parker. 
THE CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. 
Some years ago I went specially to Clonmell 
assizes, and accidentally witnessed a trial which 
I never shall forget. A wretched man, a na¬ 
tive of that county, was charged with the mur¬ 
der of his neighbor. It seemed that an ancient 
feud existed between them. They had met at 
a fair and exchanged blows; again that even¬ 
ing they met at a low pet-house, and the bod¬ 
ily interference of friends alone prevented a 
fight between them. The prisoner was heard 
to vow vengeance against his rival. The 
wretched victim left the house, followed soon 
after by the prisoner, and was found next day 
on the roadside murdered, and his face so bar¬ 
barously beaten in by a stone, that he could 
only be identified by his dress. The facts were 
strong against the prisoner; in fact, it was the 
strongest case of circumstantial evidence lever 
met with. As a form—of his guilt there was 
no doubt—the prisoner was called on for his 
defence. He called—to the surprise of every 
one—the murdered man. And the murdered 
man came forward. It seemed that another 
man had been murdered—that the identifica¬ 
tion by dress was vague, for all the peasantry 
of Tipperary wear the same description of 
clothes—that the presumed victim had got a 
hint that lie would be arrested under the 
White Boy act—had fled, uud only returned 
with a noble and Irish feeling of justice, when 
he found his ancient foe was in jeopardy on 
his account. The case was clear; the prisoner 
was innee nt. 'i he judge told the jury that it 
was unnecessary to charge them. They request¬ 
ed permission to retire; they returned in about 
two hours, when the foreman, with a long face, 
handed him the verdict “guilty.” Every one 
was astonished. “ Good God!” said the judge, 
“ of what is he guilty? Not of murder, sure¬ 
ly!'’ “No, my lord,” said the foreman, “but 
if he did not murder that man, sure he stole 
my gray mare three years ago.” — Daniel 
O'Connell. 
RUSSIAN TROOPS. 
There were about five hundred Russians 
quartered in the neighborhood of the khan.— 
They had that staid, soldierly look which is 
the effect of severe discipline. This I observed 
to be the characteristic of nearly all the Rus¬ 
sian soldiers that I have seen in the Principal¬ 
ities. The exceptions are the young recruits, 
who of course are not yet properly formed. I 
have never observed any appearance of light¬ 
heartedness among the Russian soldiers even 
when off duty. It is true, that at times, in 
marching, whole battalions sing in chorus eith¬ 
er the National Anthem, which is a fine, sol¬ 
emn air, or some wild melody, generally of a 
warlike character, interspersed with sharp cries 
and an occasional shrill whistle. These latter 
song-s are particularly animated and spirit-stir¬ 
ring, and ihe quick rattle of the drum, which 
is the sole instrumental accompaniment, in¬ 
creases their exciting character. To the lis¬ 
tener there is something sublime in thus hear¬ 
ing thousands of manly voices blended togeth¬ 
er in chorus, uttering sentiments of devotion 
to God and the Emperor, or of fierce defiance 
to the enemies of the Czar. But even in these 
exhibitions the sternness of military rule is 
seen. Upon the luces of the men thus engaged 
no trace of emotion is visible; their tread is 
measured; their forms are erect; they are obey¬ 
ing a command, and not an impulse. The 
emotions ot the heart seem to have been drill¬ 
ed into order, and expressions of love or anger, 
devotion or revenge, are only awakened by the 
voice of their commander.— O'Brien's Jour. 
Anecdote of Rothschild. — The move¬ 
ments ol such a man as Rothschild was, were 
watched by the jobbers of the day, who, con¬ 
scious of his superior information and judg¬ 
ment, were ready to take their cue from his 
proceedings. But the wary financier was usu¬ 
ally an overmatch for the crowd. When he 
received some intelligence, which he believed 
would cause the funds to rise, he ordered the 
broker who usually transacted his business to 
sell out half a million of stock. This of course 
became known at once, and the fact alone 
caused a depression of one or two per cent— 
Availing himself of this fall, Rothschild gave 
orders to other brokers not in his employ, to 
purchase to the extent of several millions at 
the reduced price, and in a day or two Capel 
Court was puzzled at learning good news 
when they were expecting bad.— Household 
Words. 
afrb’ Dew 
A Tartar Inn. —0n the arrival of a travel¬ 
er, he is met by the comptroller of the table, 
who announces what there is to eat, and as the 
visitor selects his dishes, this official repeats 
them in a measured chant to the governor of 
the pot. Before commencing his repast, cour¬ 
tesy requires the traveler to invite everybody 
present to partake with him. “ Come,” he 
says, “come, my friends, and drink a glass of 
wine with me; come, aud eat a plate of rice.” 
And every one answers, “No, thank you; do 
you rather seat yourself at my table. It is I 
who invite you.” And so the matter ends.— 
When the traveler rises to depart, the comp¬ 
troller of the table again chants over the names 
of the dishes, observing this time to include 
the price in his song. 
Music—The Empress Josephine was very 
fond of perfumes, and, above all, of musk.— 
Her dressing-room at Malmaison was tilled 
with it, in spite of Napoleon’s frequent remon¬ 
strances. Forty years have elapsed since her 
death, and the present owner of Malmaison 
has had the walls of that dressing-room re¬ 
peatedly washed and painted; but neither 
scrubbing, aquafortis, nor paiut, has been suf¬ 
ficient to remove the smell of the good Em¬ 
press’s musk, which continues as strong as if‘ 
the boJle which contained it had been but 
yesterday removed. 
CONDUCTED BY A-E. 
GENTLE SMILES. 
The sweet young flowers of early spring 
Are beautiful to me, 
And bright the stars that shine 
Upon the calm blue sea; 
But gentle smiles and loving hearts, 
And hands to clasp my own. 
Are better than the brightest flowers, 
Or stars that ever shone. 
The sun may warm the gnms to life, 
The dews the drooping flower. 
And eyes grow bright, and watch the light 
Of autumn’s opening hour; 
But gentle smiles of tenderness. 
And smiles we know are true, 
Are warmer than the summer time. 
And brighter than the dew. 
Neatness and good order contribute to Passion. —Nothing doth so fool a man as 
health, wealth and happiness; while opposite extreme passion. This doth make them fools 
habits tend to disease, misery, poverty, vice which otherwise are not, and show them to be 
and short life. fools which are so. 
Cnms-^tlcmtic €$iste, 
TO COUSIN KATEY. 
Communicated thro’ Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
EPISTLE FIFTH. 
Tircemont, Belgium, March, 1854. 
Dear Cousin Katey: — I have just returned 
from a visit to the church of St. Germain, and 
feel benevolently inclined to impart to you the 
result of my observations, taking it for granted 
that the temples and the ceremonies of the Ro¬ 
man Catholic religion will be as new and 
strange to you, as they are to my Puritan eyes. 
This church, as I told you in one of my previ¬ 
ous letters, is quite ancient, dating back to the 
eleventh century. Some parts of it are in the 
Roman style of architecture, others in what is 
called the transition , when the semi-circular 
arches which characterize the Roman order, 
began to elongate into the pointed form which 
prevails in the Gothic. The plan of the 
building, like the majority of Catholic church¬ 
es, is a croas, but with a peculiarity which is 
not often met with, and which is well worthy 
of notice. The upper part or head of the 
cross, instead of forming a straight line with 
the grand nave, is inclined at an angle of about 
seven degrees to the left. The architect has 
sacrificed the regularity of the edifice to its 
mystical signification, the inclination in ques¬ 
tion being designed to represent the position 
of the head of Christ, drooping upon his right 
shoulder, the attitude in which He is usually 
placed upon the cross. The church is filled 
with images and ornaments of all kinds; in one 
place our Saviour is represented in the tomb— 
an image the size of life, the head placed on a 
pillow, and the body covered with a damask 
spread, heavily embroidered with gold and sil¬ 
ver. Hardly suggestive, this, of the simple 
winding sheet and the head “ bound about with 
a napkin.” Images of the Virgin and of vari¬ 
ous Saints abound, and absorb so large 
a share of the devotions of the pious Catho¬ 
lics whom we find in the churches at all hours 
of the day, that I fancy only a very small frac¬ 
tion can be left for Him whom we are taught 
to regard as the jealous God who will not suf¬ 
fer a rival in the hearts of his creatures. 
In front of the high altar was a coffin, or 
rather an imitation of one, elevated about four 
feet from the ground, and covered with a pall 
that swept the pavement. At each corner was 
a w'ax taper about a yard in height, and the 
centre of the pall was ornamented with an im¬ 
mense cross in golden damask. This appara¬ 
tus indicates that masses are being sung and 
prayers recited at a stated hour every day, for 
the benefit of some person deceased. The 
length of time during which this ceremony is 
continued depends on the amount of pecuniary 
means possessed by the friends of the departed, 
or left by will for this purpose. The coffin of 
a wealthy person is usually exposed in this way 
during six weeks, while three or four days 
must suffiee for an individual of more limited 
ability. The bodies of the dead are carried to 
the church before burial, and those of the rich 
remain there while three masses are chanted. 
This service costs not less than one hundred 
dollars, and subsequent masses during the six 
weeks that follow, are paid for at the rale of a 
franc and a half for each mass. Miss W., who 
accompanied me in my visit to the church, and 
explained these points, naively remarked:— 
“ It costs terribly dear to die in Tirlemont, I 
should not like to die here!” When the de¬ 
ceased person is a young, unmarried girl, the 
pall, instead of being black, as in this instance, 
is white; the tapers are ornamented with blue 
trimmings, and a crown is placed upon the cof¬ 
fin. These distinctions indicate the peculiar 
dignity and purity which the Catholic religion 
attributes to the state of virginity. 
While'we were busy examining the church, 
, a party entered, bringing a child for baptism, 
and I was very glad to have an opportunity of 
witnessing this ceremony. The party was com¬ 
posed of the father of the child, the god-father 
and god-mother, and the nurse, who carried the 
infant They entered at a side door, and, after 
advancing a few steps, stopped short in front 
of the recess containing the baptismal font 
which is always placed in the lower part of 
Catholic churches, as fur removed as possible 
from the grand altar. You must know, 
Katey, that an infant, before baptism, is con¬ 
sidered a child of Satan, not only figuratively, 
but literally, so that he cannot enter the body 
of the church or even the baptistry until the 
devil has been expelled! For this reason bap¬ 
tismal parties slip in at a side entrance in the 
back part of the church, and wait near the 
door for the exorcising process to be perform¬ 
ed. The attendant in waiting, provided the 
god-parents with chairs in which they knelt 
with their faces towards the high altar, and 
soon a priest made his appearance, advancing 
towards them from the upper part of the 
church. He had a surplice and stole over the 
ordinary black robes worn by the priests in the 
streets. The former is a kind of white muslin 
sack, reaching nearly to the knees, and trim¬ 
med round the bottom with lace, while the 
stole is a scarf ornamented with a cross at each 
end. The nurse placed the infant in the arms 
ot the god mother, who maintained. her kneel¬ 
ing attitude, and the priest on his approach, 
addressed to her the following question,— 
“What do you desire for this child?” “That he 
may be made a child of God,” was the reply; 
‘and then the priest began the Latin service, 
which he read in a low, indistinct voice from 
a book which he held in his hand. Presently 
he stooped down and blew upon the child, 
then continued his reading, and after a short 
interval repeated the blowing process. This 
was done three times, the mumbling incanta¬ 
tions being continued all the while; a pinch of 
salt was forced into the child’s mouth, the sign 
of the cross was made and other manipulations 
performed, till finally the devil was supposed 
to have taken his departure, a fact announced 
by the priests gathering up the two ends of the 
stole and laying them upon the child, while at 
the same time he read a short extract from one 
of the Gospels. This part of the ceremony 
would have suited me very well, if it had been 
in a language intelligible to the persons listen¬ 
ing, but like the rest of the service it was in 
Latin, and I fear the audience were not par¬ 
ticularly edified. As the devil was now ex¬ 
pelled, the party retired into the baptistry, a 
small enclosure containing the baptismal font, 
and, as Bunyan says, “I saw them no more;” 
but Miss W., who has already performed the 
office of god-mother, described to me the re¬ 
mainder of the ceremony. 
C After entering the baptistry, the god-pa¬ 
rents are questioned with regard to their 
knowledge and belief of the principles of the 
Catholic religion, and they take upon them¬ 
selves in behalf of the child, the “ vows of bap¬ 
tism,” which are quite similar to those used in 
the Episcopal service. The priest then dips 
up water in the hollow of his hand, from the 
baptismal font, and gives the child’s head a 
pretty liberal ablution, after which he anoints 
him with holy oil upon the temples, behind the 
ears, on the breast, the hands and the feet._ 
The sign of the cross is made upon him, and 
the priest pronounces him “ a lit tie Christian.” 
At the end of the ceremony the names, age 
and residence of the parents and god-parents, 
and the precise hour and moment at which the 
child was born, are registered in a book kept 
for the purpose; the god-mother gives a fee, 
usually from twenty to thirty francs to the of¬ 
ficiating priest, and then the child is borne in 
state through the body of the church and out 
at the principal entrance. If the child is of 
wealthy or distinguished parentage, it is cus¬ 
tomary to distribute money to the crowd which 
is collected at the door on such occasions.— 
This expense, as well as the fee to the priest, is 
borne by the god-parents. Immediately after 
the baptism a sumptuous entertainment is serv¬ 
ed up at the house of the father, where the 
god-parents preside, and drink champagne in 
honor of the unconscious infant, who has just 
been so summarily rescued from the power of 
the devil, and, according to the teachings of 
the church, made the child of God. 
No more time is allowed to elapse between 
the birth of the child and the baptism than is 
necessary to complete the arrangements for 
this ceremony. The child is frequently, per¬ 
haps usually, baptized within two or* three 
hours after birth, while sometimes, when the 
god-parents selected for the occasion reside at 
a distance, a delay of two or three days is ne¬ 
cessary. Catholics believe that all infants who 
die without having received baptism, spend 
their eternity in a place which they call Limbo, 
a half-way station between heaven and hell, 
whose inhabitants do not suffer the torments of 
the lost, but are not allowed to participate in 
the happiness of the blest. To preserve souls 
from this fate, all good Catholics are author- 
ized to bapt ze when circumstances demand it, 
by simply pouring water upon the head of the 
child, aud repeating a short formula. Infants 
are usually baptized in this way as soon as 
born, for fear that they may die before they 
can be taken to the church. This informal 
baptism does not obviate the necessity of hav¬ 
ing the ceremony repeated as soon as conven¬ 
ient at the church, but if any accident occurs 
to the child in the mean time, it ensures him 
Christian burial, and according to their belief, 
happiness in a future state of being. Unbap¬ 
tized infants are buried at night, in a corner ( f, 
the cemetery, without any religious ceremonv. 
Well, Katey, by this time you must think I 
am determined to give you a course of lectures, 
on Catholic theology. 1 beg your pardon if I 
have wearied you with my prosings, and my 
only excuse is that in this, the most intensely 
Catholic country in Europe, with the exception 
of Italy, the character and manners of the peo¬ 
ple are so closely interwoven with their religion 
that it is impossible to speak of one subject 
without touching more or less upon the other. 
But to-morrow we go to Brussels, ami I shall 
probably find something else to write about in 
my next letter. Your affectionate Minnie. 
3 
mi 
