r • r:: rr ■* rr.-: rr; 
■vv.t.t.*:: ; 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
istfllantos. 
[For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
TWO DAYS DATJGUERREOTYPED. 
I.— A W1NTKR SCENE. 
It is s. winter-(lay and winter-like; 
The brown earth and the dull drab stubble fields 
To ashy grey the scant snow lightens up, 
But pond and stream are robed in purest white 
And every roof shares in the snowy dress. 
The distant forests edge the horizon— 
A darker border to the dark grey sky— 
While stern and silent stand the scattered trees, 
Not as in summer full of life and joy, 
(Tho life of verdure and the joy of song,) 
But patient in their power to endure. 
Few are the signs of life beheld to-day, 
The roads are rough and biting is the air, 
No oue will travel who can stay at home, 
The cattle almost shiver in their stalls, 
Nor browse the sheep abroad as is their wont. 
O, winter-like is this dull winter-day. 
II.—A MORN IN SPRING. 
It is an April morn—a sunny morn 
After a night of showers. The first warm rain 
Calls out the green and delicate new grass 
Along the hill-sides, and the shrubs begin 
1 ” unfold their buds and show a tinge of green. 
Many a plant sends up into the sun, 
A tender shoot to try tho air of Spring, 
And soon the earliest blossoms will adorn 
Tiie peach and plum, and even now we find 
The wood-sides rich with humble fragrant blooms, 
Sweeter than any gorgeous flower of June. 
—Day fadeth into eve. The wind has changed, 
And cold rain is pouring fastly down, 
Chilling the new spring grass, tlie half op’cd buds 
And the more hardy flowers upon the hills. 
Another change we’ll hope the morn will bring, 
For this is but a changeful April day. 
— Another change ! I'll sing of Spring no more, 
The earth is white with drifts of thick spread snow. 
The Maples, April, 1854. H. 
LAGER BIER AMD-. 
Lager Bier and — and what? That’s the 
question. One says Lager Bier and strength. 
This is what makes me strong. With it, I can 
load the cart, handle the sledge, guide the 
plow, plant the corn, reap the grain, launch the 
and eternal misery, says the immortal part of “ DIED YESTERDAY.” 
him who returns to consciousness just as he en- 
ters the nortals of the *rave Every day is written this little sentence: 
P “ ° ' “Died yesterday, so and so.” Every day a 
Y oung man . old man . everybody . flower is plucked from some sunny home; a 
“Touch not the sparkling bowl. Touch not, breach made in some happy circle; a jewel 
taste not, handle not.” stolen from some treasury of love. Each day, 
_ , , g, , _ from the Summer fields of Life, some harvester 
TUIV ITS ironmTinv disappears—yea, every hour, some sentinel falls 
JLLX 1R DLMIAI IlLi. at his post, and is thrown from the ramparts of 
_ , 7 . . „ Time into the surging waters of Eternity.— 
.Jury, now . the seventh, was originally the Even ^ we write) t ? ie f uneral 0 f one who “ died 
fifth month of the year. From its numerical yesterday ” winds like a winter-shadow along 
station, it was called bv the Latins Quinlilis. the street. 
Mark Antony changed the name to Julius, “ Diod Yfterday.”. Who died? Perhaps it 
„ , was a gentle babe, sinless as an angel, pure as 
the Gentile name of Caius CLesar, who was the zephyr’s hymn-one whose laugh was as 
born in this month. In the old Latin, or Al- the gush of summer rills loitering in a bower 
ban calendar, it consisted of thirty-six days.— of roses—whose little life was a perpetual Lit- 
Romulus, who, in establishing his city, adopt- an 7> a May-time crowned with the passion 
cd, with modifications, whatever of the laws «°wers that neve. fade. Or, mayhap it was a 
. youth, hopeful and generous—one whose path 
and usages of the neighboring people he was hemmed with flowers , with not a serpent 
thought expedient, reduced the number of days lurking underneath—one whose soul panted af- 
to thirty-one. The calendar was still further ,ter communion with the great and good, and 
modified by Numa, his successor, who dimin- reacbed i° r Lli with earnest struggle for the 
. , , , , ,, . , , guerdon in the distance. But that heart of 
ished the number to thirty. Thus arranged, £ 1S ig still now> for he « died yesterday.” 
it remained unaltered until the time of J ulius “Died yesterday.” A young girl, pure as 
CsESar, who restored to the month the day of the orange flowers that clasped her forehead, 
which Numa had deprived it. was stricken down as she stood at the altar; 
The Anglo Saxons called it “ maed-monath,” and fr0 ™ tbe dim a l sle9 °/ +1 the , tem P le > she , was 
, ° « .. , , . „ . borne to the “garden of the sluinberers. A 
“mead month, from the meads being then in tan> br0W ned man, girt with the halo of victo- 
their bloom; also “ aeftera-litha-monafh,” the ry, and at the day’s close, under his own vine 
“later mild month,” in contradistinction to a, id fig tree, fell to dust even as the anthem 
June, which they considered and named as the tie, ub!ed upon his lips; and he too, was laid 
.. “ where the rude forefathers of the hamlet 
former mild month. _ ‘ sleep.” An aged patriarch, bowed with years 
It is on the nineteenth of this month, that and cares, even as he looked out upon the dis- 
the Dog-days are supposed to begin. At this tant hills for the coming of the angel host, sank 
time, according to Hippocrates, a native of a dreamless slumber; and on his door-post 
Cos, and a celebrated disciple of the yFscula- wa f " ext w ” tten ’ “ died , J^terday.” 
pian art, and Puny, the Roman Naturalist, and children, are passing away, and hourly in 
“ the sea boils, wine turns sour, dogs go mad, some grave-yard the soil is flung upon the dead, 
the bile is increased and irritated, and all ani- As often in the morn we find some flower that 
WOMEN OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 
mals decline and grow weak.” a. j. k. blushed sweetiy in the sunset has withered up 
__ _ forever, so daily, when we rise from the bi¬ 
vouac to stand against our posts, we miss some 
WOMEN OF CONSTANTINOPLE. brother soldier, whose cheery cry in the sieges 
--— and struggles of the past, has been as fire from 
Bayley St. John, in his “ Turks in Europe,^ Heaven upon our hearts. Each day some 
res the following account of the amusements pearl-drops from the jeweled thread of Friend- 
the women of Constantinople: ship; some lyre to which we have been wont 
Nearly all Turkish women sally out every to listen, is hushed forever. But wise is he 
load the cart, handle the sledge, guide the gives the following account of the amusements pearl-drops from the jeweled thread of Friend- 
plow, plant the corn, reap the grain, launch the 0f v^«S n T, f ,rkJ ) ! 8tanti,10pIe: ii t ship; some lyre to which we have been wont 
1 .... . A early all lurkish women sally out every to listen, is hushed forever. But wise is he 
ship, stem the current, fight the batt es, and Friday, to take the air, away from the town, who mourns not the pearl and music lost, for 
perform many other wonderful feats. on the banks of the Bosphorus, or to some of life with him shall pass away gently as an East- 
Lager Bier and happiness, says another.— the places where water and shade may be ern shadow from the hills, and death be a tri- 
YVith it, my mornings and my evenings are * ound ’ f be wealthy go in carts without umph and a gain. 
, . v. r ‘a a 4 *1 ' springs, ot unwieldy and primitive construe- --- . , __ 
fmight with happiness. My mid-day tod is M or ^ Md sorae . B.H fiP ntltmrtv 
sweetened, and my midnight musmgs are de- times their husbands lead the oxen or horses lilJi * ALL AMI11UN. 
lightful. Honor and fame would not add a to the chosen spot, and then go away, leaving , r - . 
whit to my enjoyment. the women perfectly free to enjoy themselves Ar ! AM 1 S0N was ° t nce a preacher 
Lager Bier and wealth, says another. When ^ they please. The most popular amusements a LbUion however a^af to^have influenced 
T ° . T are the singing and music of the gipsy wo- amuuion nowever, appeal to nave mfluencea 
I am supplied with this delicious beverage, I meUj who re ir thither for the purp0 s C I_ nm _ J 113 sa fred calling. By his influence and popu- 
am rich. Not all the wealth of India could s ic which is amorously languid and simrimr la r talents he rose rapidly in church preier- 
whit to my enjoyment. 
Lager Bier and wealth, says another. When 
I am supplied with this delicious beverage, I 
make me more so. Yea, which is detestably indecent. A lunch is gen- ue ? mr ^ an “ D , ecam ® 
“I am monarch of all I survey erally brought out, and when this is despatch- ^ lchblsbo P ot ^t. Andrew s. Dazzled with 
My right there is u me to dispute, ed, smoking and drinking commence—drinking t() whl f. ie . hadat ’ 
From the center ail round t > the sea, not of sherbet, but of good brandy, or other ta,u * d ’ aad vam ol the powers which his office 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.” strong liquors, which soon induce a boisterous com . bined > \ e commenced a violent persecution 
Larrer Ber and-aud— everythin* savs the gW, 30 tha t the sultanas whom we often against Ins inferior brethren at wh.ca he was 
Yager liter ana ana eve i yciting, says me • j ninino- a wnv imnri^ncl m-w he frequently heard to say, that ot whatever else 
fourth. When I am cold it warms me, and seei f rol i ing in J inextinguishable he mi .o ht . b . e deprived, of three things he was 
when I am hot it cools my brow. AY lien I am laughter on the turf, or huddled up in a still certum ~ hl3 nches > his learning, and the Kings 
sad it cheers me, and when sick it is my medi- more advanced stage of intoxication, like bun- tavor \. ’ ut Low vain was his boasting! A 
cine. It is my food when hungry, and with it dies of rags. Their Montenegrin servants, ^orttime only elapsed before m the face of 
mv thirst is ouenched It drives away care "ho are the privileged beholders of such all the people, the judgment ot God overtook 
my tin,st is quenched dnves a^aycu, sceneg> Qre often com ^ lled to baul the ni into hini > an | , hl9 ^ aRd cruelty became Ins 
and protects me from the pestilence. Without their carts, in which they are jolted back to mm ' H ts intellectual powers, of which he 
it, my existence would be shortened to utter the harem. Those who are not too far gone, boaste( l> withered, so that, although his ele¬ 
ment, until he obtained the mitre, and became 
Archbishop of St. Andrew’s. Dazzled with 
the grandeur and dignity to which he had at- 
not of sherbet, but of |ood brandy, or other taiu< r d ’ aad vain of the powers which his office 
strong liquors, which soon induce a boisterous 
combined, he commenced a violent persecution 
against his inferior brethren, at which he was 
The wife of him “ who tarries at the cup," says f u ll of women, some made bold and chattering 
Lager Bier and tcretchedness. She looks by their excess, others hanging sleepily about, 
upon the haggard and beastly countenance of and murmuring to be taken home. . . . , . . ,.,-. ,, 
him who to her is more tlvui all others and r l’Lcre is a walk planted with elm trees, not ie b ccame so far the object of lus abhorrence, 
hm vv lio to her is more than all others, ana fer from t] , e citVi i- here 0Il]y women are ad- that the prelate lnmselt declared “ he was sure 
sighs for the husband of her earlier days. She udUed Two or three thousafid assemble there tbe k \ n S d'd care more for the woret of his 
hears his horrid and blasphemous oaths, and at a time, aud, sitting upon a verdant slope, do o s tban lor . him; and thus cast ofl by the 
groans, in the agony of her soul, at the wreck enjoy the pantomime of a comedy, which some W01 '' d ’ wbose tavor he Lad sought, and by Him 
/»fW imnoc li;« hJrtwc tint] (ihtt«P« an> linmp. infamous Jews, hired for the nnrnose. nor form “ "hose- favor is hie, but whose favor he had 
and subsist on charity from those very minis¬ 
ters he had persecuted; while the king’s favor, 
in which he had trusted, not only was lost, but 
of her hopes. His blows and abuses are borne infamous Jews, hired for the purpose, perform j 
with a fortitude more than human, and she still 011 tbe limits of the forbidden ground lor their < 
, . , i • i r , , (■ .. amusement. On these occasions, it would 
cherishes undying love for oue who has forfeit- sCareeij be possible for a stra „ger to recognize 
ed the last claim upon her forbearance or fa- Eastern life from the descriptions he is accus- 
vor. She looks upon the children of her tomed to read. '1'he free conduct has more 
bosom, and with faint hope of its realization, tba n once attracted the attention of the gov- 
prays that they may be delivered from the ernm ® n . t » whicb ^ry long ago published 
1 J J j an ( r llift,. f*nmn nmin(r thuf iU&rr nn t 
f the forbidden ground’ lor their r0 J ecte f he bve<1 aud died iu tbo S reatest mi3 - 
On these occasions, it would ei T want 
^silde for a stranger to recognize l8 that p00r maB) thit uTtt^onprinces’ favor i 
Jill the descriptions he is accus- Anti he. and every one, that God’s blest smile 
i. '1'he free conduct has more And his soul’s peace, barters for earthly trash. 
prays that they may be delivered from the eminent, which not very long ago published A Cbericab PuN.-One of the San Fraitcis- 
1 r J an edict, complaining that they remained out co Bishops, while delivering a discourse, let 
penis of the poisonous bowl. late at night; that they rode forth in coaches fall a very excellent pun, of which he was at 
Lager Bier aud disgrace, cries the forlorn with young Christian drivers; that they veil- the time perfectly unconscious, and which he 
daughter of the drunkard. AVhen first I look- tared hito shops, especially those of apotheca- did not discover until it was pointed out to 
,. „| T , ... ries, and even pushed their audacity so far as him in his sermon, which was a written one.— 
ed upon my father, I was happy. His smile to eat ices in \ hc Fraukfeh coffoe \ ouses of He was speaking of Peter’s denial of the Sa- 
cheered my childhood. His instruction ami (j a lata and Pera. '1'he edict accordingly re- Hour, and of his subsequently going out to 
counsel guided my youth, but now — how commended that early hours should be kept, weep. “ And why,” said he, “ did Peter weep? 
changed! AVhen I expect a smile, a frown or and forbade women to enter shops of any Because he had committed a crying sin. 
a blow is all I receive. AVhen I ask for the kind > °|‘|° be t,ri '’ en about . b )’ young coach- -«- 
means of comlort and improvement, lie mut- supposed to be great advantages in civil- ^ 0NEY ’, llke ^ X ‘hsparaged, 
ters language 1 dare not listen to, and bids me Mon, and which seem strangely accompanied and wh, . 1 J h, " hl - v 
begone. I am shunned by the good and the by proclamations giving permission to women an( oare a \ avouti. ^ 11 " t ; 11 are 
. , . -i t „... .i 11 - ^ j which olteu happeus in society—that of eulo- 
wise, and consigned to that lower deep known to appe on 1the public promenades, were of Jjeoplc P ^ 101U we wouldn’t associate 
as the S{diere of tire drunkard’s daughter.— ™ LiBtC J, ujiL he women continue then w ith, and sneering at others whom we don't 
i.r ,, x t t , ,, , , old customs, though some have been hanged ’. ^ . „ ° 
AY ould to God I never had been born ! or drywned for be t llg fouud ia the buck ^ps care t o cut ___ 
Lager Bier and rags, says little Tommy, as of Christians. T , , , , . „„ , 
he tries t« collect the scattered tmnmJ* of H will require somethinte else besides re- . .*•?"<* b “ lon S s t0 the godt 
(it uiif w luiicu tut, aauucu iut 0 imuts ut . ^ • let all do as they may: their sun shines on the 
his garments to protect him Irom the gaze ol b . J, 1 • ^, a * 11 uim 111 righteous and the wicked; man alone aims al 
, ,, ,, V . . this resiiect All laws m the East, moreover, b ... , .. XT ’ . , 
men and the blasts ot winter. have the temporary character of orodama- T . w ment No one ought to eujoj 
Lager Bier and ignorance -and poverty - lions. They are applied for a day ami forgot- " hat too good tor him; lie ought to makt 
, ? , , . j* io i\„u; 11 . *’ , lnmselt worthy of it, and rise to us level, 
and shame, says the young man, as he tries to An. it is toibi«klen, for example, most ex- _ 
elevate himself from the slough of despair into Pj b,< » s hopu>eii to ha'e anv other than . . . . • > ,, -n • 
. . . . , , old meu as servants; and they almost, without you have great talents, indusiiy will lm 
which he has been consigned by the drunken- exception, have spruce, dashing young attend- prove them; if moderate abilities, industry wil 
ness of his father. 1 feed a crushing weight ants. supply their deficiencies. Nothing is deniec 
upon me, that prevents me from acquiring tlie -«-»<►.■»- to well directed labor; nothing, is ever to Lk 
dignity of respectable manhood. Oh! that To be happy, the passions must be cheerful attained without it. .Gr J. Reynolds. 
there had never been such a thing as Lager a,u ^ gloomy and melancholy. Aptxj- * ' ’ 
jjj peusity to hope and joy is real riches; oue to Adversity overcome, is the brightest glory 
T . fear and sorrow, real poverty.— Hume. and willingly undergone, the greatest virtue.— 
CONDUCTED BY A-E. 
TO HER I LOVE. 
I know a little hand ; 
’Tis the softest in the land. 
And I feel its pressure bland 
While I sing: 
Lily-white, and resting now 
Bike a rose-leaf on my brow, 
As a dove might fan my brow 
With its wing: 
Well, I prize, all hands above, 
This dear hand of her I love. 
I know a little foot, 
Very cunningly ’tis put 
In a dainty little boot. 
Where it hides: 
Like a shuttle it ever flies 
Back and forth before mine eyes, 
Weaving music for mine eyes, 
As it glides: 
Well, I prize, all feet above, 
This dear foot of her I love. 
the sw r eet spirit of our dreams, Melva May’.— 
Robed in spotless white, her singularly beauti¬ 
ful hair falling in fair, soft clusters low on her 
bosom, and her face radiant with heavenly 
smiles, she passed from earth to the skies. 
Reader, have you ever ruthlessly planted a 
thorn in that heart stilled by death? or turned 
heedlessly away from that pleading voice? or 
caused a tear to tremble on those eyelids, mo¬ 
tionless now? If so, graver memories will, 
liaunt you in many a silent and desolate hour. 
And if you ever visit this solemn, silent city 
of names, where we have left sweet Melva 
May, 
Tread lightly as you approach near her tomb, 
And sigh with the willow that o’er her weeps. 
Touch not the spring beauties that around her bloom. 
But leave them alone, where Melva sleeps. 
Maple Grove, Marshall, N. Y., 1854. 
MARRIED MEN. 
Well, i prize, all feet above, So good was he that I now take the oppor- 
This dear foot of her I love. tunity of making a confession which I have 
_. , , often had upon my lips, but have hesitated to 
I know a little heart; , l- e i ir* 
It is free from courtly art, ™ al ? * r0n ? tbe fear ° f . draW1D S "P°” m y Self 
And I own it every part tbe batred of every married woman. But now 
For all time: I will run the risk—so now for it—some time 
Ever it beats with music’s tone, » r other, people must unburden their hearts.— 
Everan echo of my own, I confess, then, that I never find, and never 
Ever keeping with my own have found a man more lovable, r and more 
Holy time. captivating, than when he is a married man.— 
Weil, I prize, all hearts above, A man is never so handsome, never so perfect, 
This dear heart of her I love. in m y eyes, as when he is married, as when he 
-- is a husband, and the father of a family, sup- 
[ Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] porting in his manly arms, wife and children, 
MELVA MAY. and tbe wbcde dome stic circle, which, on his 
_7__ * entrance into the married state, closes around 
astray leaf, by charley fern. him, and constitutes part of his home and 
- : — world. He is not merely ennobled by his po- 
“Faii thickly on the rose-bush, sition, but he is actually beautified by it—then 
oh, faintly failing snow! be appears to me as the crown of creation; and 
For she has gone who trained its branches, it j 3 on ]y suc h a nmn as this who is dangerous 
And wooed it, buds to blow.” Glazier. to me> and wkh whom J am inclined to fall in 
Yes, gone! another victim for the grave’s love. But then propriety forbids it. And 
voiceless keeping—another spirit hushed and Moses, and all European Legislators, declare 
happy, lulled to rest upon the bosom of its God to be sinful > and a11 married women would 
, . ,, e , , , consider it a sacred duty to stone me. Never- 
another bright form ot human beauty gone, theless> x cannot preve £ t the thing. It is so, 
leaving the thousand streams ol our affection and jt cannot be otherwise; and my only hope 
to flow back in an Alpine torrent upon our of appeasing those who are excited against 
hearts. Yes, gone on a higher mission than me, is in my future confession, that no love af- 
that of earth—gone, to that Elysiau abode, f ectsme 80 Pleasantly; the contemplation of no 
, , , happiness makes me so happy as that between 
where care and sorrow are never known— ma Vri e d people! It is amazing to myself, be- 
Sweet flowers may gather on the fragrant lilac cause it seems to me that I, living unmarried, 
spray, and blossoms fair bask in the sunshine or mateless, have with that happiness little to 
on that rose-bush, but the soft, fair haud which do - A L* so >—always so. AFiss Bremer. 
trained their branches, but a little time ago, 
will train them no more. They have no more 
work to do. The quiet stars, as they hold their 
festivals around their midnight throne, will 
THE LOVE OF TRUTH. 
If there is one thing more than another 
which we would teach a child, it would be a 
guard them after night-fall, and be their only love of truth. All other things would be 
protector. Melva May is no more. She has worthless without that crowning excellency in 
been gathered bv the reaper to the harvest of bum an character. TV ithout it, the noblest 
, , ° , : , ,, , , , structure is- but a whited sepulchre. \\ ith 
the dead. * • e have clasped tier hands meek- ad qualifications a man is to be shunned when 
ly over her still heart, and borne her carefully deficient in this. The beholder may admire a 
to the forest grave-yard. She slumbers near fabric of general beauty and symmetry, but 
where the streamlet murmurs by, and there the wben ^ be soam of falsehood is found running 
‘ j ,, ., -i from cap-stone to base, he will shun the dan- 
buds wul sing all the vear rovnd, and the wild 1 r „, ’ ,. ... 
. , P . gerous presence. J here are lew things more 
winds coariL her requiem. A weeping willow pa i n ful experienced in our intercourse with 
throws its long, green branches over her, as na- men, than to feel that they are unworthy of 
ture weeps over the tomb of the brave, and our confidence—that they are not what they 
gigantic maples of a century’s growth stand seem—that they will betray while they smite 
.. , , , . , . , —that we tread upon a crater’s crest where all 
like sentinels, to guard the treasured one. At ig hollow beneath . [ 
early spring-time, bright, shining flowers will Teach the child to tell the truth—to vene- 
spring up around, while the white rose, and the rate and love it. Teach him so that what- 
myrtle, and the sweet forget-me-not, affection’s ever wrong he may commit, he will frankly and 
fairest offering, will bloom above her head; and P" om ptly admit it all. Rev aid die honest 
. ", , ,, , speech. Washington s father was never proud- 
open their tender petals to drink the dews that £ of his boy thau when he ackuow ledged his 
gentlv fall o’er Melva’s grave. fn.lsp.hnod 
Yes, a beautiful girl, too fair for earth, has 
passed like a Peri from our midst. A being 
falsehood. 
A true heart is not beneath every smiling 
face. A shark may play beneath the water’s 
of angelic beauty, oue whom angels envied, has " UUI} 7 ^arface. , , ^ ,_ 
gone to the land of the sleepers. Many a so- ^ Great Man’s Mother. —WhenWashing- 
journer iu the city of her earthly abode poured toil arrived at Fredericksburg, where his mo- 
out their souls, gush after gush, as the “clods ther resided, ou his return from Yorktown in 
of the valley” rattled upon Mf.lva’s coffin lid. O c i° b ^, Iibl, tne people came in crowds to 
Z. , , greet him, but his mother, though proud ot 
The very fountains ot life seemed turned to t.-. 
Money, like beaaty, is greatly disparaged, 
and eagerly sought, while poverty is highly 
praised and carefully avoided. It is like a case 
which often happens in society—that of eulo¬ 
gizing people whom we wouldn’t associate 
with, and sneering at others whom we don't 
care to “ cut.” 
Justice belongs to humanity. — 1’he gods 
let all do as they may: their sun shines on the 
righteous and the wicked; man alone aims at 
worthiness and merit. No one ought to enjoy 
what is too good for him; he ought to make 
If you have great talents, industry will im¬ 
prove them; if moderate abilities, industry will 
supply their deficiencies. Nothing is denied 
to well directed labor; nothing, is ever to be 
dignify of respectable manhood. Oh! that 
there had never been such a thing as Lager 
Bier. 
Imager Bier and [wison, says the deluded 
youth. Lager Biorand the gallows, says the 
Adversity overcome, is the brightest glory, 
aud williuglv undergone, the greatest virtue.— 
Sufferings are but the trials of valiant spirits. 
The object of life is life itself—if we do but 
condemned criminal. Lager Bier and death, our duty to our own minds, we shall soon 
says the dying drunkard. Lager Bier and— ' come to do it to the world. 
We are solemnly obliged to the children of 
those who have loved us .—Jlchilles Puincelot. 
out their souls, gush after gush, as the “clods flier resided, on his return from \ orktown in 
of the valley” rattled upon Mf.lva’s coffin lid. October, 1781, tne people came in crowds to 
. , greet him, but his mother, though proud ot 
Lhe very fountains ot ale seemed turned to ber S0Q) was unmoved by the honors paid to 
teare and dust, and methought I could almost b [ ni- When the triumphal procession entered 
catch the notes of the welcome which greeted the town, she was preparing yarn for the 
her in those realms where the rainbow never weaver of cloth for her servants, and w ? as thus 
fades, and the sweet tones of her voice came occupied when her honored son entered the 
.’ , . , , house. “I am glad to see vou, George; you 
stealing around me musical and gentle as tne bave altered considerably,” were her first 
zephyrs that kiss the flowers in the summer words, aud during the whole interview not a 
morning hour, and I catch again the glow of word w r as said by either of his glorious achieve- 
that face radiant with immortal youth as she meids - d be nex f da y sbe was y isited by La- 
_ i, „ fayette, who spoke to her in glowing language 
communes with pure and lot tv intelligences. 1 . 1 ° TT 
1 j© 0 [ tbe greatness of her son. Her simple and 
When spring rides over the earth in his memorable reply was, “ I am not surprised, for 
shining chariot, friends repair to her grave to George was always a good boy. ’ 
plant a flower aud shed a silent tear. And 7 ^ ° ’ ~~~ 7 j r 
. . e a • i t Madame Roland, on the scaffold, asked for 
even m the mysterious silence of midnight, . . . . , ’ , ,, .A 
. ... , . , 7 writing materials to note down the strange 
when t he stars are spread out like the islands thoughts which were passing through her mind 
that slumber on the ocean, they pause upon the i Q her last moments. It is "a pity the request 
loved name of Melva. There is music in its was refused, for, at the end of lite, a tranquil 
utterance. It sounds like the meanings of j°' nd conceives thoughts, which before were 
sepulchral winds about the “ marble mansions” blC011 < .ei\aile. ^ ^ ^_ 
of those we most beloi e. Tiie setting of a great hope is like the set- 
Tread lightly o'er her grave; murmur low, ting of the sun. The brightness of our life is 
ye winds, about that disconsolate home, for the gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and 
fairest of their circle is joumving afar off- «» •>« * “ reflection—itself » 
. , , . J ° , broader shade. Me look forward into the 
All is lonely there now. As they gather combl g ld g b t. The soul withdraws into itself. 
around the once cheerful fireside, one vacant The stars arise, and the night is holy. 
chair is found, one voice has ceased, forever -- - - 
ceased, and those eyes that once sparkled with The fireside is a seminary of infinite inipor- 
joy and animation are closed, forever closed.— tanoe; it is important because it is unixersal, 
. . r, it i P ,, and because the education it bestows, being 
The going out of her life was calm as the fall- woven Ju with the woof of childhood, gives 
ing of a quiet stream, gentle as the dews of fonn aud co i or to the whole texture of life. 
heaven falling on the sylvan lake. _. ♦--- 
I watched the last faint smile of Melva, as Be slow to choose a friend, and slower to 
she passed away, like a flower cut down in the fringe courteous to all, scorn no man for 
. . . , ,_his poverty, honor no man for his wealth. 
morning, and they turned away alone aud soi- 1 J t ^ _ __ 
rowing, for it was a sad sight to see young and A FIRM fa ; lb j 3 tbe bes t divinity; a good life 
lovely woman fading away from earth, going j the best philosophy; a clear conscience the best 
down to the grave broken-hearted. Such was law; and honesty the best policy. 
gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and 
the world seems but a dull reflection—itself fi 
broader shade. We look forward into the 
coming night. The soul withdraws into itself. 
The fireside is a seminary of infinite impor¬ 
tance; it is important because it is universal, 
and because the education it bestows, being 
woven iu with the woof of childhood, gives 
