MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
297 
THE PLAY-HOUSE. 
BY ANN PRESTON. 
Who has not been a child, and made 
A play-house ’neath the trees i 
And who so old but groweth young, 
While passing one of these t 
I saw one in the eool, green nook, 
Ancar a cottage wall, 
Built cunningly with many rooms, 
And stored with play-tliings small! 
Prompt little hands had laid some walls, 
And swept the mossy floors, 
And sticks across the opening laid 
Were gravely called the “doors.” 
On showy shelves, which oft would fall. 
Were treasures rare I ween— 
The broken china glistened there. 
In blue, and red, and green. 
The golden light of childhood’s morn. 
While gazing, round me stole. 
And fragrance from its sweet dim shores 
.Swept breeze-like o’er my soul. 
On -e more I trod that green-mossed bank. 
Where ’neath a school-house tree, 
From tiny acorn cups we drank, 
And called it “ liking tea.” 
We played our “meeting” o’er again, 
And I was preacher there, 
And, with mm k gravity we wore 
Our serious Quak r air. 
But thou who put on matron airs, 
And played “ the mother” then, 
The fairest one of all the school, 
Now walketh not with men. 
Thou, too, whose dark eyes proudly beamed, 
The stateliest of that band, 
’Mid summer toils hast gone away, 
Unto the “silent laud.” 
These mosses still, their little cheeks 
’Gainst sister mosses lay, 
While of those three who leaned on them, 
Bai I ti.e weakest, stay. 
Oh! earth would be one funeral pyre, 
And life a dream of pain, 
If beauty did not live for aye, 
And love and God remain. [Cayuga, Chief. 
[Communicated for Moore’s Rural ] 
LEAVES FROM A TRAVELER’S NOTE-BOOK. 
No. I.—From Liverpool to Dublin. 
No day that the writer passed “ abroad ” 
will live longer and greener in his memory 
than that upon which lie was whirled along by 
a steaming fire-horse on the road front Liver¬ 
pool to Dublin. Fairer scenes than were then 
displayed, afterward delighted his eyes; locali¬ 
ties teeming with deeper interest were visited, 
and the recollections of them treasured up in 
his remembrance, yet none afforded the intense 
delight he that day experienced, for it was tl e 
initial step of his wanderings in the Old World, 
and an abrupt and delightful transition from 
the monotony of an ocean-voyage to the rav- 
ishfng beauties of an English landscape.— 
There was no more “ fearful looking for the 
terrors of the deep;” there he was, comforta¬ 
bly seated in an easy-riding car, dashing, ever 
and anon, by sceues of exquisite loveliness, en¬ 
joying an ever-shifting, rapidly-unfolding pan¬ 
orama of green hedges, fields of grain waving 
gracefully in the breeze, and smiling villages 
glittering resplendently beneath the sun’s bright 
rays. 
In about an hour after leaving Birkenhead 
—the Brooklyn of Liverpool,—the warning 
bell sounded, the whistle gave out a shrill re¬ 
sponse, and indications of a rapid approach to 
a station became visible. Another scream 
from the whistle, the train lessened its velocity, 
and entered an almost palatial structure. The 
guard cried out “ Chester,” and the writer de¬ 
scended to visit veritable antiquities—some¬ 
thing he had seen only in museums and collec¬ 
tions—never before upon the very spot where 
they originated and grew old. 
Chester furnishes ample material for the 
researches of the antiquary, and the gratifica¬ 
tion of admirers of what is curious and an¬ 
cient, many vestiges existing within it of the 
power and skill of the Romans, in whose pos¬ 
session it was held at a very early period.— 
Portions of the old walls still remain, possess¬ 
ing more interest than mere antiquity attaches 
to them, being the only specimen of that order 
of ancient fortification now to be met with. 
They are built of blocks of light red sand¬ 
stone, firmly cemented together; the cement 
still remains firm and hard, while the stone has 
proved more perishable, and gradually crum¬ 
bled away. They have beeu repaired from 
time to time when necessary, and an ample 
fund has recently been appropriated, to further 
the preservation of these embattled memorials 
of hoar antiquity. They extend nearly two 
miles in circumference, and their summit af¬ 
fords a fine promenade, it having been levelled 
for the purpose, and surmounted with a railing. 
We were highly delighted with our perambu¬ 
lations around them, and observed many ob¬ 
jects worthy of particular attention and note. 
Among them may be mentioned the Phoenix 
Tower, and another called Julius Ciesar’s, or 
Agrieola’s. From the summit of the former 
Charges the First witnessed the defeat and 
subsequent flight of his army from the Parlia¬ 
mentary forces, at the battle of Rowton Moor, 
and the latter bears marks of cannon balls, 
said to have been aimed and fired agaiust it 
by Oliver Cromwell himself. But Rowton 
Moor now’ presents a different picture from that 
of those days of anarchy and confusion; its sur¬ 
face, then covered with the bodies of the dead 
and dying, is now laid out in w r ell-cultivated 
fields, dotted at frequent intervals with peace¬ 
ful homesteads nestled quietly amid leafy groves. 
A great number of the houses in the old 
portion of the city, attest by their appearance 
their great antiquity. They are built entirely 
of timber, and painted in squares, with alter¬ 
nate stripes of black and white. One building 
bears the date of 1539 upon it, and another 
has the following inscription on a beam in front: 
“Goff's Providence is mine Inheritance. 1652.” 
The date, however, does not refer to the 
time of its erection—the house, from its style j 
being evidently much older—but to the fact 
that, while the plague in that year w r as devas¬ 
tating the city by its fearful ravages, this w r as 
the only house in the whole street that escaped 
its destructive havoc. The pious occupant, 
grateful to Providence for his deliverance 
caused the foregoing inscription to be con¬ 
spicuously carved upon the front of the build¬ 
ing. In the same street is an old house with 
the front divided into squares, filled with carv¬ 
ed work of various designs, but principally 
illustrating scenes from 1 foly Writ. They are 
most artistically executed, but exhibit some 
extremely ludicrous-anachronisms. Conspicu¬ 
ous among them is the patriarch Abraham, 
habited in coat, waist-coat and knee-breeches, 
offering up Isaac as a sacrifice. 
We then proceeded to the Cathedral — a 
venerable structure—portions of which were 
erected at widely different periods, forming an 
architectural medley not at all inharmonious, 
and presenting a singular yet beautiful appear¬ 
ance from whatever point of view it is regard¬ 
ed. Within it is solemn and austere; the 
panels and galleries are of oak, beautifully 
carved, and of sufficient antiquity to satisfy 
the most enthusiastic hunter after what is old 
and curious. We noticed several monuments 
of great antiquity, and a tablet with the fol¬ 
lowing inscription arrested my attention par¬ 
ticularly :-“To the memory of George 
Clark, of Hyde Park, formerly Lieutenant- 
Covernor of New York, and afterward resi¬ 
dent of this city. He died 1740, and was 
buried here.” 
Leaving the Cathedral, we retraced our 
steps to the station, which is the terminus of 
six different lines of railway, and is the most 
splendid and extensive railway depot in the 
United Kingdom. This superb edifice, re¬ 
plete with every convenience, has a frontage 
of 1160 feet, and cost upwards of £240,000, 
or $1,200,000. Eutering the cars again, we 
w'ere soon on our way to Holyhead, paasing 
through North Wales and the island of An- 
glesea The road runs amidst the most beauti¬ 
ful and romantic scenery of North Wales, and 
I regretted exceedingly that our iron horse 
was possessed of such speed that we could 
only obtain a passing glance of the lovely 
valleys, picturesque castles, the lowering and 
majestic mountains, with foaming torrents 
rushing headlong down their rocky sides, and 
of the placid lakes and bounding rivulets that 
were constantly Hitting by. 
At Conway, however, we halted for a con¬ 
siderable time, and obtained a good view ot 
the ruins of Old Conway Castle, erected by 
Edward I. in the thirteenth century. The 
walls on all sides are covered with a luxuriant 
growth of ivy, from the top of which spring 
eight lofty towers, each with a slender turret 
singularly graceful and elegant in form. For 
a long time this noble fortress was suffered to 
retain all its ancient grandeur undiminished 
but it was finally granted to the Earl of Con¬ 
way, who ordered all the timber, iron, lead 
and other valuble materials in the castle to be 
removed to Ireland. This ancient castle is 
the fictitious scene of the “ Castle Spectre ” 
and “ The Bard ” of Cray. 
Passing l’eurhyn Castle, and Bangor, we 
soon reached the celebrated and world-re¬ 
nowned Menai Suspension Bridge, together 
with the equally noted tubular bridge through 
which we passed, both of which cross the Me¬ 
nai Straits, joining the mainland with the 
island of Anglesea, the home of the ancient 
Druids. From this point to Holyhead the 
scenery is less attractive. At the latter place 
we stepped on board a pigmy steamer, which 
conveyed us to Kingstown, the port of Dublin, 
and seven miles distant from it. A well-con¬ 
ducted railway affords frequent communication. 
Rahway, Sept. 4, 1854. J. M. H. 
Mohammedan Liberality. —In a recent ad¬ 
dress of Lord Shaftsbury, he stated that his 
son had free admission into every mosque in 
Constantinople, with a party of thirty or forty 
officers, which a short time previous, if at¬ 
tempted, would have beeu attended with 
death. This remarkable abatement of preju¬ 
dice had produced a free intercourse with Eu¬ 
ropeans. The Sultan also had given quite a 
sum of money for the repair of the Protestant 
cemetery in Constantinople, and has signified 
his intention of giving a large space of ground 
for the erection of a Protestant place of wor¬ 
ship. Compare this with the severe aud illib¬ 
eral spirit of the Czar or the Pope—and how 
elevated the position of the Sultan above that 
of either of these religious despots! 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.] 
SELFISHNESS. 
How true is the observation of a friend that 
“some men are never satisfied, but spend their 
lives and sink into the grave, crying more! 
more! Such seek pleasure only in the grati¬ 
fication of self—the wants and woes of their 
fellows claim no share of their attention or 
sympathy. How truly great and wise is that 
man who, to a disposition to carefully provide 
for the wants of his own household, adds an af¬ 
fectionate regard for the happiness of those 
around him.” 
Mankind make the gratifiication of selfish 
desires too much their study,—it absorbs not 
only their actions, but their thoughts, till it be¬ 
comes a second nature, and too many sink into 
the mire wiser. The strife after riches is the 
end and aim of life, apparently, instead of being 
the means of doiug good to all that surround 
us, or that may come within the wake of our 
influence. How much nobler to cultivate the 
higher aspirations of our being, and study to 
act out that charity that embraceth the whole 
world a£ one common brotherhood, t. e. w. 
TROPICAL VEGETATION. 
The following description of tropical forest 
scenery is from Gan Eden , a delightful work 
recently published: 
“ Here is the domain of that gorgeous and 
formidable vegetation which wages such a 
constant war with the works of man, the vege¬ 
tation which has toppled down the temples°of 
the Aztec, aud hidden the cities of Central 
America in a green night, and built along the 
Oronoco and the Amazon fortresses of barba¬ 
rism and of ignorance, impregnable alike by 
commerce and by curiosity. The wastes of 
Northern Cuba are jungles of closely twining 
plants, gay with the myriad hues of strange, 
magnificent dowel’s, aud overtopped by gigan¬ 
tic trees, whose trunks are not less gay with 
fantastic embroideries, and from whose' Bria- 
rean arms hang countless veils and fringes of 
creeping plants, the names of which cause 
upon the ear the same indefinite impression of 
savage magnificence that is made by their 
blended, indistinguishable forms upon the eye. 
All things which to us of the temperate zone 
are creatures of boxes and of bales, creations, 
we might perhaps as truly say, of the mer¬ 
chant and the grocer, meet us at every turn 
wild a>nd bold in the woods; the fan-like cacao 
tree, the spreading vanilla, the parasite tama 
rind, the gaunt and desolate guava. The 
cactus no longer struggles for existence in the 
feeble sunshine of a three-pair back window, 
with a Southern exposure; but swollen to the 
size of a scrub oak, impedes your way with its 
dull, hideous, prickly leaves, aud flaunts its 
great flowers in your face. * * * r Ph e 
silence of these tropic forests is tremendous. 
Still are they as the seat of Saturn. No beast 
crashes through the undergrowth, no bird sings 
in the branches, no wind sighs through the 
mighty tops. The living creatures of that 
w’orld glance noiselessly through the air, or 
glide stealthily through the heavy sound-dead¬ 
ening verdure. Your own voice startles you. 
Sublime at first, this silence soon grows insuf¬ 
ferably oppressive. You are on A he point of 
giving an impatient shout, when your purpose 
is anticipated by nature with a shriek mean 
and malicious as the cry of an imp. Sadden¬ 
ing is the absence of song birds from the Cu¬ 
ban landscape. * * * It is worse than 
soulless. The parrot gives it an uncanny soul, 
a sprite of evil.” 
FAMILIAR NONSENSE. 
How many phrases are there in common use 
that seem to mean something, but mean noth¬ 
ing whatever. We call lawyers, for example, 
“gentlemen of the long robe;” yet who ever 
saw a lawer in anything of the kind? We say 
that Judge so-or-so wears “the judicial ermine” 
with dignity, when he does not wear any er¬ 
mine at all. We have seen newspaper reports 
o t a new ship’s “ gliding gracefully into her na¬ 
tive dement,” when all the world'knows that a 
ship’s native element is not the sea but the 
shore. 
We are told of the way the tragic actor 
wears the “sock,” and the comic actor the 
“ buskin,” and yet who ever saw’ either wear 
either on the stage? Gentlemen partial to 
good living, we hear it said, are “ fond of the 
bottle,” wheu it is the contents of that vessel 
and not the vessel itself they love so dearly.— 
“ The jury box” is no box at all, nor does any 
court we ever saw sit on a “ bench.” And 
what, we would respectfully inquire, do the po¬ 
ets and romancers mean by saying “ the sex,” 
when alluding to the ladies, as if we were of no 
sex at all? We could extend this list of ab¬ 
surdities; but enough for the present.— Cour. 
A PORTRAIT. 
A young man wishing to be be noticed 
the gay circles of the world, buys an old wat< 
tor five dollars. At the end of four montl 
finding that it does not keep time as well as 
new one, he pays three dollars to have it the 
oughly repaired. Two months after, finding 
is not exactly a new watch, he pays two d< 
lars for further repairs. At the end of a yei 
growing sick of it, he swaps it away for an o 
musket. He then tries to get rich by huntin 
but not finding game very plenty, and recei 
ing a summons from the merchant to pay f 
his pow’der and shot which has amounted 
eight dollars, he says to himself' “ I’ll get rid 
the rotten musket somehow’;” so he swaps it < 
for an old horse and pays five dollars to boi 
He hires his horse kept at the tavern, at whi< 
place he boards; at the end of the year hisb 
for horse keeping has amounted to forty dt 
lars, and his own to seventy-five. He says 
himself, “ this is not getting along very fas' 
so he sells his horse for a barrel of brand 
which finishes his earthly career. 
“ WIIAT’S TnE USE. 
Where’s Sam?” asked Joe Dennet, coming 
into Mr. Power’s yard, and seeing Mr. Pow¬ 
ers at the door. “ Up in his study,” answered 
Sam’s mother. “And where is that?” asked 
Joe; “I did not know that Sam had a study.” 
Sam’s mother smiled, and told him to go in the 
garden and may be he would find it. He did 
so, and shouted “ Sam, where are you?” “Hal¬ 
lo!” said a voice from above. Joe looked up 
and saw his friend perched in the crotch of an 
apple-tree, with slate and book in hand. 
“Come,” said Joe, “the boys are going a 
boating, and w’ant you to go.” “ Can’t,” an- 
! swered Sam, “ I am trying to master this Al- 
| gebra; we all missed to-day.” “ Why, it is 
Wednesday aflernoon, and that is our time.— 
1 w’ould not study, I am sure, what’s the use?” 
asked Joe. “Well, for my part, I am bound 
to get this lesson the first thing I do,” said 
Sam. “ Pooh, it’s too hot to study; besides I 
hate Algebra; what’s the use of puzzling your 
brains over x plus y?” “ I think it is of use to 
get our lessons,” said Sam. “ What are you 
going to do after that?” asked Joe. “ I am 
going to weed the onion beds.” “ Oh its too 
pleasant to work; what’s the use of tying your¬ 
self up here all the afternoon? I know I 
w’ould not,” said Joe Dennet. “ Well, I think 
it’s of use to do what needs to be done, was 
Sam’s answer. 
This was a fair sample of Sam Powers and 
Joseph Dennet, two boys who lived in the 
same neighborhood. It is twenty-five years 
since this kind of talk took place, and the boys 
are now men. Sam Powers is called a man 
of “ iron will,” because he lays plans and car¬ 
ries them out with a patience and energy which 
never gives up. He is one of the first business 
men in the State, and a truly pious man too. 
How is it with Joe? He goes through life a 
man, just as he did a boy. If there is any ex¬ 
tra exertion to be made in his business, he 
asks, “ What’s the use?” and goes to it with so 
little heart, that he is sure to fail. He is al¬ 
ways complaining of hard times, and wonder¬ 
ing how people get ahead so. As for his re¬ 
ligion, he does not live as if it were of much 
use to him or any one else. 
There are some boys who, when they have 
anything to do, or are called upon to do a lit¬ 
tle more than usual, try to shirk off by asking, 
“O, what’s the use?” The fact is, boys, there 
is use in doing like a man what you have to do 
There is use in getting your lessons, and get¬ 
ting them well, and making extra exertions to 
get them, if they are difficult. There is use in 
weeding the garden, chopping at the wood- 
pile, finding the cows, cultivating a taste for 
reading, and in doing what your parents ask of 
you. Whenever I hear a boy trying to ex¬ 
cuse from duty, by asking fretfully, “O, what’s 
the use?” I mark him as a lazy, shirking, shuf¬ 
fling boy, who will be very likely to be good 
for nothing when he grows up. You must 
have a hearty interest in your work; and al¬ 
ways feel very suspicious of yourself, if you find 
an inclination to dodge duty with this mean¬ 
ingless excuse. 
HUMAN GRANDEUR. 
The following passage is from one of Prof. 
Upham’s letters to the Congregationalist. He 
is speaking of the captain of the steamer in 
which he sailed from New York. 
“ As we were about to start, I saw him move 
to an elevated position above the wheel; and 
it was interesting to perceive how quickly and 
completely the inward thought or purpose al¬ 
ters the outward man. He gave a quick glance 
to every part of the ship, among whom was 
the American embassador to England, who, 
if the captain may be said to embody the ship, 
may be said with equal truth to embody in his 
official person a nation’s right and a nation’s 
honor. He saw the husbands and wives, the 
mothers and children entrusted to his care; 
and his slender form, as he gave the orders for 
our departure, seemed at once to grow more 
erect and firm; the muscles of his face swelled, 
his dark eye glowed with a new fire, and his 
whole person expanded and beautified itself by 
the power of inward emotion. 
“ I have often noticed this interesting phe¬ 
nomenon ; and have come to the conclusion, if 
man or woman either wishes to realize the full 
power of personal beauty, it must be by cher¬ 
ishing noble hopes and purposes—by having’ 
something to do and something to live for, 
which is worthy of humanity—and which, by 
expanding the capacities of the soul, give ex¬ 
pansion aud symmetry to the body which con¬ 
tains it” 
INALIENABLE RIGHTS OF AMERICANS. 
The following are not enumerated in the 
Declaration of Independence: 
To know any trade or business without ap¬ 
prenticeship or experience. 
To marry without regard to fortune, state of 
health, position, or opinion of parents or friends. 
To have a wife and children dependent on 
the contingencies of business, and in case of 
sudden death, leave them wholly unprovided 
for. 
To put off upon hireling strangers the liter¬ 
ary, moral, and religious education of children. 
To teach children no good trade, hoping 
they will have, when grown up, wit enough to 
live on the industry of other people. 
To enjoy the general sympathy when made 
bankrupt by reckless speculation. 
To cheat the Governmeut, if possible. 
To hold office without being competent to 
discharge its duties. 
To build houses with nine and six inch walls, 
and go to the funerals of tenants, firemen, and 
others, killed by their fall, weeping over the 
mysterious dispensations of Providence. 
To build up cities and towns without parks, 
and call pestilence a visitation of God. 
If you are affronted, it is better to pass it 
by in silence, or with a jest, though with some 
dishonor, than to endeavor revenge. If you 
cau keep reason above passion, that, and watch¬ 
fulness, will be your best defendant — Sir 
Isaac Newton. 
CONDUCTED BY A-E. 
THE TWO WORLDS. 
A land where sweetest roses farle, 
And smiling youth grows quickly old; 
A land where sunshine turns to shade, 
And beauty takes a different mould; 
A land of change, a land of care, 
Whose fleeting joys are little worth ; 
A land whose smile becomes a tear— 
That land is Earth ! 
A land of love where naught can sever, 
And beauty bloomR with lustre fair; 
A land where youth is young forever, 
For time exerts no influence there ; 
A land where streams of pleasure flow, 
And golden harps to all are given ; 
A land where we our God shall know— 
That land is Heaven 1 
PLAYING WITH CHILDREN. 
Country life’s opportunity to cultivate inti¬ 
macy with children, seems to me a very impor¬ 
tant as well as agreeable advantage over life in 
the city. To be able to get out any moment 
in the day when most convenient, and join a 
gay and loving little troop and take share in 
their work or play, unobserved by all eyes, is 
preferable to an opera, I think, as a relaxation 
from care and as a pleasure within reach. And 
there is fresh air with it, and exercise; while its 
timeliness makes it serviceable to health. But 
the degree to which a man lives a stranger to 
his children, without it—neither understanding 
their minds nor comprehending their disposi¬ 
tions—can hardly be understood by those who 
have lived only in the city. There is no charm, 
for a child, like the presence of a person who 
takes an interest in his play; and he loves and 
opens his nature to those who do so, as he 
loves aud is frank with nothing else. To enter 
into the excitement of hi# occupations, and to 
listen to and reply with habitual familiarity 
and earnestness to his questionings and iinpart- 
ings, is to link his soul with you by an every 
day strengthening of affection, like the growing 
of a branch upon a tree. With his memories 
of these days—all golden and treasured—the 
parent who is the kindly companion out of 
doors is thus inseparably interwoven. Nature 
ordained such to be the intercourse between 
parent and child. 
And while to daily life this gives a charm 
and hallowing influence, it plants a flower of 
affection that will bloom when old age needs 
its fragrance of respect and tenderness.— Willis. 
KIN DN ESS. 
Would it not please you to pick up a string 
of pearls, drops of gold, diamonds, and precious 
stones, as pou pass along the street? It would 
make you feel happy for a month to come.— 
Such happiness you can give to others. How, 
do you ask? By dropping sweet words, kind 
remarks, and pleasant smiles, as you pass 
along. These are true pearls and precious 
stones which can never be lost; of which none 
can deprive you. Speak to that orphan child; 
see the diamonds drop from her cheeks. Take 
the hand of that friendless boy; bright pearls 
flash in his eyes. Smile on the sad and the 
dejected; a joy diffuses his cheek more brilliant 
than the most splendid precious stones. By 
the way side, mid the city’s din, and at the fire¬ 
side of. the poor, drop words and smiles to 
cheer and bless. You will feel happier when 
resting on your pillow at the close of the day, 
than if you had picked up a score of perishing 
diamonds. The latter fade and crumble in 
time; the former grow brighter with age, and 
produce happier reflections forever. 
SELF • GOVERNMENT IN CHILDREN. 
A modern writer says:—“I know nothing 
more touching than the efforts of self-govern¬ 
ment of which little children are capable, when 
the best parts of their nature are growing vig¬ 
orously under the warmth and light ot paren¬ 
tal love. How beautiful is the self-control of 
the little crea’ure w! o stifles his sobs of pain 
because his mother’s pitying eye is upon, him 
in tender sorrow! or that of the babe who ab¬ 
stains from play and sits quietly on the floor, 
because somebody is ill! I have known a very 
young child slip over to the cold side of the 
bed on a winter's night, that a grown-up sister 
might find a. warm one. 1 have known a little 
girl submit spontaneously to hours of irksome 
restraint and disagreeable employment, merely 
because it was right. Such wills as these—so 
strong and yet so humble, so patient and so 
dignified—were never impaired by fear, but 
flourished thus under the influence of love, with 
its sweet excitements and holy supports.” 
Think. —Thought engenders thought Place 
one idea on paper, another will follow it, and 
still another, until you have written a page.— 
You cannot fathom your mind. There is a 
well of thought there which has no bottom.— 
The more you draw from it, the more clear 
aud fruitful it will be. If you neglect to think 
yourself, and use other people’s thoughts, giv¬ 
ing them utterance only, you will never know 
what you are capable of. At first your ideas 
may come out in lumps, homely and shapeless; 
but time and perseverance will arrange and 
polish them. Learn to think, and the better 
will you express your ideas. 
It is a glorious sight to see two old people, 
who have weathered the storms and basked in 
the sunshine of life together, go hand in hand, 
lovingly and thoughtfully, together down the 
gentle declivity of time, with no anger, nor 
jealousy, nor hatred, garnered up against each 
other, and looking with hope and joy to the 
everlasting youth of Heaven, where they two 
shall be one forever. That is a true marriage, 
for it is a marriage of spirit with spirit Their 
love is woven intso a woof of gold, that neither 
time, nor death, nor eternity can sever. 
