MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER' AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
pie have willed the lawyers down to the demo¬ 
cratic level, and a very uncommon number of 
them have to perfect their accomplishments 
with the art of stump-speaking. They take 
this reluctantly, as much so as the “cloud-com¬ 
pelling Jove” would yield himself to the task 
of raising a dust in the streets; and lo, the 
young men resent the democratic dogma, and 
turn to other visions. They will have no 
rainbows that rest on the earth, and sweep no 
arch higher than Tammany or Metropolitan 
Hall. 
Doctors disagree about theories, and fight 
over facts. They use the lancet less, and the 
tongue more. Poisons are not so popular as 
formerly, but gall and wormwood are appre¬ 
ciated. Cauterization is fashionable. Doctors 
practice much on each other. Allopathy, 
Homoeopathy, Hydropathy, are all alarmed at 
the diseases they fiud in one another, and they 
have taken to curing or killing one another.— 
Moreover, patent medicines build palaces; 
Jack-all-cur'es understand advertising, and 
twenty-five-cent pill-boxes are ponderous off¬ 
sets to expensive visits. A doctor no longer 
stands on his own merits except with certain 
classes and cases. Temptations to trickery 
are multiplied; and clever young men draw 
back from a bustling, fussy rivalry, that has 
no higher end than the claims of ipecac or lo¬ 
belia. 
And so, things conspire to encourage taste 
and talent to look in the direction of newspa¬ 
pers and books. But alas! the secrets here 
will soon be learned. Parnassus is a very 
bleak mountain. Editors and publishers are 
overstocked with applications. Brains to 
hire remain unhired, and manuscripts by the 
measure that sells potatoes, command nothing 
in the market. A sad prospect this for so 
many aspirants, but really the supply exceeds 
the demand. But so it must be until parlors 
are much more numerous than garrets, and 
readers far surpass writers. For it must be re¬ 
membered, that manufacturers and agricultur¬ 
ists have the advantage over literary men.— 
Cotton and cloth soon wear out 
[For Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
EFFECT OF REPEATED ILLNESS, 
HONOR to whom honor is due. 
by ALICE CAHKY. 
Wb say the strong are in danger of forget¬ 
ting, in their vigor, that they too must die, 
that a breath is enough to blanch their cheeks, 
and that before the pulsations shall have 
ceased in the feeble heart of him who leans on 
their strong arms, they may be called to lie 
down in the grave. 
It is well. They do need to be reminded of 
the grave toward which they are moving. But 
are there not others, who cling more despe¬ 
rately than the strong, to life? Are there not 
those who, from the fact that what the strong do 
thoughtlessly, in the bustle of business, they do 
considerately, need even more than they to be 
reminded of the grave which will open in their 
path, however carefully they may strive to hide 
it from even their own eyes? 
The soldier on the battle field sees one and 
another cut down at his side, and feels that he 
stands upon the brink of eternity, which the 
next shot may unveil to his eyes. But he 
escapes. Again and again he approaches the 
abyss, but the hand of the Omnipotent draws 
him back, an invisible shield turns the whis¬ 
tling balls from his heart, till at last he forgets 
that he too is mortal. As he escaped before, 
Honor him whose hands ate sowing 
Seeds for harvest in their time— 
Reverence those whose thoughts are growing 
Up to ultimates sublime. 
All the progress of the ages 
May be traced back to their hands— 
All the illuminated pages 
Of the books, into their plans. 
Every worm beside you creeping, 
Every insect Hying well, 
Every insect in eaith’s keeping, 
Has a history to tell. 
The small, homely flower that s lying 
In your pathway, may contain 
Some elixir, which the dying 
Generations sought in vain. 
In the stone that waits the turning 
Of some curious hand, from sight, 
Fiery atoms may be burniug. 
That would fill the world with light. 
Let us then, in reverence bowing, 
Honor most of all mankind, 
Such as keep their great thoughts flowing 
Deepest iu the field of mind. 
A CAFUSOS WOMAIT 
Portuguese of Brazil arc a remarkable race, 
sprung from a mixture of native Americans 
and the negroes imported lrom Africa. I hey 
appear to lvAve been separated from the then 
inhabitants of the country, and many families 
of this singular tribe now live in the solitary 
plains bounded by the forest of r l arama. 
They present the combined physical peculi¬ 
arities of both the parent races in a remarka¬ 
ble degree. But what gives these Mestizoes a 
peculiarly striking appearance is the excessive 
length of their hair, which, especially at the 
ends, is half curled, and rises almost perpendic¬ 
ularly from the forehead to the height of a foot 
or a‘foot and a half, thus forming a prodigious 
and ugly kind ot a peruke. 
This strange head of hair is the consequence 
of mixed descent, and is the mean between the 
wool of the negro and the long, stiff hair of the 
huts. They resemble much, in this respect, the 
Papuas of New Guinea, a mixed race, de¬ 
scended from the Malays and the negroes. 
Their hair is of such length and worn so much 
frizzled about their heads, that its circumfer¬ 
ence measures about three feet, and when least, 
at two and one-half feet. 
Dumpier styled them “The Mop-headed Pa¬ 
puas.” The shape of their skull resembles the 
Malay’s, with some differences. They afford an 
example of a mixed breed of men who retain 
certain characteristics derived from their double 
ancestry. These characteristics are permanent, 
and transmitted through many generations, 
since they seem to have been fully developed 
in the time of Dumpier.— American Pkreno- 
llats and 
shoes are not transferable to the next season.— 
Flour and rice are promptly consumed. But 
the Books of the past live. Publishers are the 
immortalizers of preceding ages. And the few 
works for which there is room in this crowded 
world, can only come from a few men. The 
main trouble is to get a hearing; and only a 
select class of writers can make any sort of a 
business calculation on it. 
Let the young men think awhile. It is easi¬ 
er to be a genius in some things than in others, 
and, as a general rule, it is much more practi¬ 
cable where men are liberally paid and gener¬ 
ously honored. Arehitecturing, civil engineer¬ 
ing, ^inventive art, are now rising into the 
first rank of professions. The thrifty world 
needs the help of such talents, and it is glad to 
pay for them, because thereby it ministers to 
its own pride, luxury, gratification. Men are 
determined to multiply great and gorgeous, 
buildings. Fine houses were never so popular. 
Bridges, viaducts, churches are in the ascen¬ 
dant. Tunnels and railway wonders fill all 
eyes. The literature of solid masonry is the 
uppermost charm, and magnificent poems are 
spanning rivers. Mechanic art rules the day 
and adorns the night. And sc, young men, if 
you want to take your place among sun, moon 
and stars, go to work at once, and bravely 
greater for a boy twelve years old in a district 
school, than for a young man of twenty in col¬ 
lege. We do not say he gets his lessons bet¬ 
ter, or pursues his studies more thoroughly ; in¬ 
deed, it would be impossible for him to do so. 
We have known a district school boy pursuing 
at the same time, reading and'spelling, arith¬ 
metic and grammar, writing and geography ; 
and that same school boy, in after years, when 
lie became a student in college, with a mature 
mind, reciting but three times a day, for five 
days in the week, and three terms, amounting 
^in the aggregate to but thirty weeks in the 
year ; and that too, at one of the oldest, most 
thorough, and most celebrated iiterary institu¬ 
tions in this country. 
Why is this distinction made between pri¬ 
mary and higher, institutions? YV hy is the 
tender mind of the young lad crammed with, 
intellectual pabulum, while that ol the com- 
paratively matured youth is moderately fed? 
.Why is the tender physical organization of the 
little boy or girl confined on hard iorms six 
hours in the day, while the bone and muscle ot 
the college student is similarly constrained but 
three? Why is the former kept at school 
forty or more weeks in the year, while the lat¬ 
ter is kept within college halls but thirty, and 
frequently not that? There is one consolation, 
if these views are condemned by parents, guar¬ 
dians and school committees ; and that conso¬ 
lation is, the teachers-and the boys are on our 
side. 
PHILOSOPHICAL LECTURE 
In olden times, when common roads were 
first laid out, the science of engineering, and. 
it would almost seem, the science of common 
sense, was very indefinitely understood. Up 
hill and down lull, across gullies, over swamps 
on log bridges, and turning aside at no obsta¬ 
cle, the surveyor of a highway followed the 
line indicated by the needle, tending neither 
to the right hand nor to the left. He seems 
to imagine that the length of a kettle bail was 
creator when laying down than when erect; 
rence. On the other hand, many roads are 
ruu successfully on very high grades and sharp 
curves, of which the Western Road in Mas¬ 
sachusetts is an example, the road-bed of 
which rises fifteen hundred feet from the Con¬ 
necticut river valley at Springfield to the sum¬ 
mit in Berkshire county; and this, too, on 
very sharp curves up a mountain gorge, at a 
grade of eighty feet to the mile. The rail¬ 
ways of New Hampshire and Vermont, the 
Delaware section of the New York and Erie, 
and many others, are also illustrations in point- 
But in a railroad, all these things are detri¬ 
mental, and admitted only as unavoidable lie 
cessities; the locomotive power has to be in¬ 
creased at an immensely greater ratio than the 
grade and curvature, the wear and tear of roll¬ 
ing stock is much enhuuced, the velocity must 
be proportionately less, and the peril compar¬ 
atively more. 
But since these conditions are unavoidable, 
the practical question arises how railroad 
cars are made to turn a curve? and on this 
question we leave our young friends to specu- 
ate until we find leisure to write for them an¬ 
other philosophical lecture. 
The Dignity of the Tf.acher’s Work. —Tt 
is"a pleasant fancy of Swedenborg,-that angels 
ingheaven are employed iu teaching the youth¬ 
ful spirits that enter prematurely the sphere of 
immortality. It is no childish fancy that 
would assign the teacher’s work to the choicest 
spirits of earth, and exalt this work to the 
rank of the most angelic of human employ¬ 
ments. A proper idea' of the dignity of his 
work is needful to the teacher as a motive to 
fidelity, in his perplexing, and often ill-requited 
labor; and especially to reconcile him to an 
employment, which by some strange mistake 
has come to be generally rated immeasurably 
below its proper rank. It is not easy to ac¬ 
count for the fact, that the calling of the teach¬ 
er is generally ranked, not only below the oth¬ 
er professions but even below some of the 
more common industrial pursuits. The origin 
of this preposterous notion may be found far 
back in some barbarous feudal age, when all 
peaceful occupations were held in contempt: 
when the office of chaplain and king's fool 
were interchangeable, and when some “ Dom¬ 
inie Sampson ” or “ Ichabod Crane ” was the 
impersonation of pedagogical dignity. But 
such a preposterous idea does not belong to 
an age of refinement. Public sentiment has 
On a beautiful eveuing in spring, a father 
said to his wife, “ Let us go into the fields and 
rest on the hill, to enjoy the sight of the set¬ 
ting sun. It will be a lovely evening.” When 
his two children—a boy and a girl—heard 
this, they said, “We will go before you and 
wait for you on the hill.” And with these 
words, they skipped on before. Soon after 
the grave father and the kind mother followed 
them, talking of the beauties of creation and 
of their children—the father speaking from 
the treasure of his wisdom, the mother from 
the simplicity of her heart. When they came 
to the hill and ascended it, the children were 
there already, and ran joyously towards them 
with a white pet Iamb, which they hud token 
with them. Wheu the sun went down in glo¬ 
ry, the parents looked on with emotion, and 
the father lifted up his voice and spoke to the 
children of the creation of the universe, of the 
host of the stars, and of the sublime Creator 
of nature, who lias made heaven and earth, 
and the sea, and all that therein is; and he 
made them look at the sun in his glory, sayi ng, 
“It is now time to teach them heavenly wis¬ 
dom.” When the father had finished speaking, 
the children exclaimed suddenly “ Oh, see, dear 
father, and dear mother, how pretty — how 
lovely!” They had adorned their lamb with 
flowers like a bride, and it ate the herbs of the 
hill out of their hands. The father looked at 
the mother, and shook his head with a grave 
gesture. But the mother smiled and said, 
“Ah, my beloved! let them continue in their 
child-like simplicity. They need not yet the 
knowledge of rising and setting worlds, and 
COST OF THE HI Ail MOTH CAVE 
PASSION FOR LITERARY PURSUITS, 
Con. Crogan, to whose family it belongs, 
was a resident of Louisville. He went to 
Europe some twenty years ago, and found 
himself frequently questioned of the wonders 
of the Mammoth Cave—a place he had never 
visited, and of which he had heard but, little 
at home, though living within ninety miles of 
it. 1 Le went there on his return, and the idea 
struck him to purchase it and make it a family 
inheritance. In fifteen minutes bargaining, he 
bought it for $10,000, and shortly after he 
was offered $100,000 for his purchase. In his 
will he tied it up in such a way that it must 
remain in his family for two generations, thus 
appending its celebrity to his name. There 
are nineteen hundred acres in the estate, 
though the cave probably runs under the 
property of a great number of other land 
owners. For fear of lliose who might dig 
down and establish an entrance to the cave on 
their own property, (a man’s farm" extending 
up to the zenith and down to the nadir) great 
vigilance is exercised to prevent sitch subter¬ 
ranean surveys aud measurements as would 
enable one to sink a shall with any certainty. 
The Cave extends ten or twelve miles iu sev¬ 
eral directions, and there is probably many a 
backwoodsman silting in his hut within ten 
miles of the Cave, quite unconscious that the 
most fashionable ladies and gentlemen of Eu¬ 
rope and America are walking without leave 
under his potatoes and corn! 
War vs. Schools. —While millions have, in 
a few months, been expended in the prosecu¬ 
tion of the justifiable war against the despotic 
Czar, it appears that the total amount of pub¬ 
lic money, in support of popular education in 
England, granted from 1833 to 1850—a peri¬ 
od of seventeen years—was only £1,000,000 
sterling, only £750,000 of which were actually 
expended either in defraying the cost of build¬ 
ings, the purchase of school apparatus, or in 
aid of efficient masters, mistresses and teachers. 
From the tenth annual report of the Ragged 
School Union, (just published,) it appears that 
there are now in connection with the Union 
129 Ragged Schools, attended by 13,100 
children on Sundays, 900 on week days, and by 
630 in the evening. 
of idleness. Then, too, others from certain in¬ 
tellectual habits at college, that overpower 
their will and enslave them to personal tastes 
for retired life and meditative reflection. Nor 
is this at all surprising. As our higher educa¬ 
tion is now conducted, young men acquire a 
positive dislike for the real world, counting it 
unworthy of strife, and evading its rough com¬ 
merce as death to all fine sentiments. The 
prevailing system makes them students; there 
is no doubt of that; but unfortunately it is 
contented with that achievement Alumni 
and books are wedlocked, and henceforth they 
are one in the affairs of human experience. 
But this is not all. The various professions, 
once so honorable and so lucrative,. are not 
quite so attractive. Party politics interfere 
sadly with Lawyers and Judges, and the pop¬ 
ular crowd is the final arbiter of their merits. 
The most aristocratic of the old professions is 
al “ caste ” no longer, and “ green bags ” must 
now be stuffed $ith election tickets. The peo- 
Lrt me Die in the Country.— 0 let me die 
in the country, where I shall not fall, like a 
leaf of the forest, unheeded; where those who 
loved me need not mask their hearts to meet 
the careless multitude, and strive to forget me! 
Bury me in the country, amid the prayers of 
the good and the tears of the loving; not in 
the dark, damp vault, away from the sweet- 
scented air, and the cheerful sunshine; but in 
the open fields, among the flowers that l loved 
and cherished while living.— Fanny Forrester. 
A true history of human events would show 
that a far larger proportion of our acts are the 
results of sudden impulses and accidents, than 
of that reason of which we so much boast.— 
Cooper. 
There is no distinguished genius altogether 
exempt from some infusion of madness.— Aris¬ 
totle. 
Men will have the same veneration for a 
person who suffers adversity without dejection, 
as they will for demolished temples, the very 
ruins of which are reverenced and adored.— 
Fenton. 
Many actions, like the Rhone, have two 
sources—oue pure, the other impure. 
