MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
aliflttal. 
COUNTRY SCHOOLS, 
The tendency of population to centralize is 
peculiarly manifested in the falling off of the 
number of scholars in our Country Schools.— 
The city is fast absorbing the business of sur¬ 
rounding villages, and drawing off their me¬ 
chanics and traders, as well as young men not 
yet established in regular employments.— 
Nearly every village in the vicinity of our 
Western cities, is either stationary or actually 
receding in the number of'its population; while 
in the country around these results are, if pos¬ 
sible, much more apparent. 
In rural neighborhoods, where twenty years 
ago large numbers of scholars, from the tiny 
boy of five years, up to the full-grown propor¬ 
tions of six foot manhood, were wont to col¬ 
lect together in the winter school, and give 
employment, both mentally and physically, to 
young academicians, dressed lor a brief space 
with the authority of pedagogues, there can 
now be found scarcely a sufficient number of 
scholars to employ a female teacher. Many 
of the old school-houses, that in former years 
stood by the wayside, have disappeared, and 
their places remain unsupplied. The glory o! 
the birch and ferule has departed, and the 
“ boarding round” method of housing and feed¬ 
ing the school-master, is an obsolete idea.— 
The facilities for acquiring an education are 
not diminished it is true; but they are concen¬ 
trated on fewer points and district limits made 
to extend over a wider range of territory. 
Fewer teachers are perhaps employed pro¬ 
portionately to the number of scholars, but 
their qualifications are superior, and the pro¬ 
fession much more exalted as well as better 
paid. It is perhaps safe to say that a score of 
years ago, not one in fifty of the Common 
School Teachers ever saw an Algebra or Geom¬ 
etry, and many of them were deficient even in 
Arithmetic. Now, although it is not ab¬ 
solutely required, there are very few teachers, 
even of the humblest schools, but have studied 
at least the rudiments of the higher mathemat¬ 
ics, and are conversant with popular treatises 
on Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and other 
kindred sciences. The glories, however, of the 
old couutry school-house are numbered among 
the things that were; the big sled that was 
wont to hold a dozen of the largest boys and 
girls on a headlong coast down the steep hill, 
is broken; the fall old forest trees, behind 
whose mossy trunks the scholars were accus¬ 
tomed to play “I spy,” have disappeared; the 
evening schools and exhibitions have gone to 
the shades, and the juvenile throngs that at-< 
tended them have become staid men and wo¬ 
men—heads of families, whose children now at¬ 
tend a Union School, in the midst of the vil¬ 
lage, or a public one in the dense and crowd¬ 
ed limits of some busy city. 
[For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
TONES IN READING, BAD HABITS, &C. 
Familiarity with any thing, creates inatten¬ 
tion, perhaps insensibility, to its peculiarities. 
Hence it is that teachers who are by no means 
neglectful of their duty, often allow their 
young pupils to acquire unnatural tones, and 
to form disagreeable habits in reading, almost 
without being aware of it. Take the child 
who is called to read for the first time; when 
the letters are named to him, he will doubtless 
repeat them in a natural tone ; but let the op¬ 
eration be continued, and he will be found to 
slide imperceptibly into an artificial tone.— 
This will be especially the case if he is a little 
wanting in energy, or rather slow at learning. 
The change is gradual, and the teacher, unless 
on the watch, does not perceive it until the 
habit is nearly formed ; and if not seasonably 
corrected, it soon becomes so established, that 
the most careful future training is hardly suf¬ 
ficient to set things right again. 
But suppose the thing is discovered in time, 
and an effort is made to correct it. The ef¬ 
fort may be successful, but very soon the little 
urchin will be found to be “ running oil' the 
track” in another direction. (I speak from ex¬ 
perience.) Thus it is seen, that one of the 
greatest tasks of the teacher, is to prevent .— 
A little want of energy in the pupil, a little 
hesitancy, will require the teacher’s constant 
care, if he wishes to train aright It may here 
be observed that those children that are slow 
to learn, slow of speech, or inclined to be stu¬ 
pid, are much more disposed to run into bad 
habits of reading, than those of an opposite 
character, and hence require greater watchful¬ 
ness, and more constant care in training. 
But suppose the teacher himself to be not 
very quick to discover, or not to feel much in¬ 
terest in the matter; and after a few feeble at¬ 
tempts, (or none at all,) to prevent or correct 
the evil, abandons the object—how soon is 
the mischief done, the habit formed, almost 
beyond the hope of correction. 
“Reading differs from talking.” True it 
does, and here we have the principal reason for 
it It does with some, whatever be the sub¬ 
ject, and hence it is that we have so few good 
readers among us. But let teachers themselves 
know what good reading is, and let them both 
teach and practice it, in training the young^ 
and we should soon discover wherein the true 
difference lies, and be able to observe it* in 
our reading. Good reading is an accomplish¬ 
ment of so much importance, that every one 
who offers himself as a teacher, should strive 
for its attainment; and facilities for becoming 
good readers are so numerous, that no teach¬ 
er can be excusable, whoneglects them.— 
Good reading as an entertainment, is second 
only to good singing. h. 
Out West, Oct., 1S53. 
OUTLINE MAPS. 
Geography has become an important study 
in our public schools. The rapidly increasing- 
facilities for commerce and trade, the opportu¬ 
nities for reciprocal intercourse and communi¬ 
cation between the United States and other 
nations, render a good knowledge of geography 
highly important, if not indispensably necessa¬ 
ry to every American citizen. 
The ancients learned geography by visiting- 
different countries, and studying the topogra¬ 
phy of every place, and the physical and po¬ 
litical condition of each state or division.— 
This course is desirable now, as far as circum¬ 
stances will permit, for the impressions made 
upon the mind by actual observation are more 
satisfactory than those otherwise received.— 
Next to actual observation, there is no better 
means of acquiring a part of this information 
than by the help of a good map, and for school 
instruction, none- so well as a well-executed 
outline map. By means of outline maps, a 
whole class or school can be taught the form 
and situation of different positions of the 
earth’s surface; at the same time one individ¬ 
ual could learn the same. The great outlines 
of the continents, with their bays, gulfs, inlets, 
and all their sinuosities; the mountain ranges 
and water courses; the natural features of sea 
and laud, and the political divisions, with their 
proportionate size and geographical position, 
can thus be taught successfully at a great sav¬ 
ing of time both to teacher and pupil. 
In a series of visits made last spring to a 
large number of schools in New England and 
New York, I saw no exercises more interesting 
than those in geography, conducted without 
any books. In some instances a large class 
was taken into a large hall or recitation room, 
containing blackboards, outline maps and a 
globe. No book was used, no question asked 
from a book, and yet the recitation exhibited 
a very thorough study of physical, statistical 
and civil geography. The pupils were ques¬ 
tioned by others, and questioned each other in 
every department; the maps seemed like house¬ 
hold pictures, every line of which was familiar; 
the globe was like a toy, a plaything, and a 
few touches of the crayon on the blackboard 
brought out countries, mountains, seas and 
rivers as if by magic. 
Some teachers can make outline maps them¬ 
selves; indeed, every teacher should prepare 
outlines of their district, town, &c. The draw¬ 
ing of outline mapo me omekUouia 
pursued with very great success at the Bridge- 
water Normal School, while Mr. Tillinghast 
was principal, and perhaps is now. It might 
be done in every school to some extent. But 
we should say to every teacher, make or get a 
good set of outline maps, and a globe: with 
these use some good physical or universal ge¬ 
ography, for reference, and then with the ordi¬ 
nary school geographies, a good foundation 
may be laid in a study, which from its nature 
must be ever progressive; and which is neces¬ 
sary not only on account of its relations to 
practical business in life, but also in its con¬ 
nection with most of the natural sciences.—C. 
in JY. Y. Teacher. 
EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES. 
That which is elsewhere left to chance, or 
to charity, we secure by law. For the purpose 
of public instruction, we hold every man sub¬ 
ject to taxation of his property, aud we look 
not to the question whether he himself have 
or have not children to be benefitted by the 
education for which he pays. 
We regard it as a wise aud liberal system of 
policy, by which property and life, and the 
peace of society, are secured. We seek to 
prevent, in some measure, the extension of the 
penal code, by inspiring a salutary and conser¬ 
vative principal of virtue and of knowledge at 
an early age. 
We hope to excite a feeling of responsibili¬ 
ty, and a sense of character, by enlarging the 
capacity and increasing the sphere of intel¬ 
lectual enjoyment. By general instruction, we 
seek, as fur as possible to purity the moral at¬ 
mosphere, to keep good sentiments uppermost, 
and to turn the strong current of feeling and 
opinion, as well as the censures of the law and 
the denunciation of religion, against immoral¬ 
ity and crime. We hope for a security, be¬ 
yond the law, and above the law, in the prev¬ 
alence of enlightened and well principled 
moral sentiment. 
Education, to accomplish the ends of good 
government, should be universally diffused.— 
Open the doors of the shool-house to all the 
children of the land. Let lio man have the 
excuse of poverty, for not educating his own 
offspring. Place t^e means of education with¬ 
in his reach, and if they remain in ignorance, 
be it his own reproach. 
If one object of the expenditure of your 
revenue be protection against crime, you could 
not devise a better or cheaper means of ob¬ 
taining it Other nations spend their money 
in providing means for its detection and pun¬ 
ishment, but it is for the principles of our gov¬ 
ernment to provide for its never occurring.— 
The one acts by coercion, the other by preven¬ 
tion. On the diffusion of education among 
the people, rests the preservation and protec¬ 
tion of free institutions.— Webster. 
A mind that is conscious of its integrity 
scorns to say more than it means to perform. 
PORTRAIT OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 
SIR JOHN FRANKLIN AND HIS COMRADES. 
The recent letter from Hr. Ray, dated at 
York Factories, on Hudson’s Bay, Aug. 4th, 
to Sir G eorge Simpson, Governor of the Hud¬ 
son’s Bay territory, throwing light upon the 
fate of the illustrious navigator, Sir Jonx 
Franklin and his companions, is exciting a 
great deal of interest through the community. 
Dr. Ray was in command of a party which 
went in search of the missing expedition, and 
wintered last season at Repulse Bay, in the 
Arctic regions. On the 31st of March last he 
again took up his line of march to the North 
West, aud on the 17th of April fell in with a 
party of Esquimaux, “ from whom 1 learned,” 
says Dr. Ray, “ that in the spring, four winters 
past (spring of 1850,) a party of white men, 
amounting to about forty, were seen traveling 
southward over the ice, and dragging a boat 
with them, by some Esquimaux who were kill¬ 
ing seals on the north shore of King William’s 
Land, which is a large island named Kel-lk-tak, 
by the Esquimaux. None of the party could 
speak the native language intelligibly, but, by 
signs, the natives were made to understand 
that their ships or ship had been crushed by 
ice, and that the “whites” were now going to 
where they expected to find deer to shoot.— 
From the appearance of the men, all of whom 
except one officer (chief,) looked thin, they 
were then supposed to bp gpttin^ -l.ort of pro 
visions, and they purchased a small seal from 
the natives. 
“At a later date, the same season, but pre¬ 
vious to the disruption of the ice, the bodies 
of about thirty white persons were discovered 
on the continent, and five on an island near it, 
about a long day’s journey (say 35 or 40 miles) 
to the N. W. of a large stream, which can be 
no other than Back’s Great Fish River, (named 
by the Esquimaux Out-koo-hi-ca-lik) as its de¬ 
scription, and that of the low shore in the 
neighborhood of Point Ogle and Montreal 
Island, agree exactly with that of Sir George 
Back. Some of the bodies had been buried, 
(probably those of the first victims of the fam¬ 
ine.) some were in a tent, or tents others under 
a boat that had been turned over to form a shel¬ 
ter, and several lay scattered about in different di¬ 
rections. Of those found on the island, one 
was supposed to have been an officer, as he had 
a telescope strapped over his shoulder and his 
double-barrelled gun lay underneath him. 
“From the mutilated state of many of the 
corpses, and the contents of the kettles, it is 
evident that our miserable countrymen had 
been driven to the last resource—cannibalism 
—as a means of prolonging life. There ap¬ 
pears to have been an abundant stock of am¬ 
munition, as the powder was emptied in a heap 
on the ground by the natives, out of the keg, 
or cases containing it, and a quantity of ball 
and shot was found below high water mark, 
having been left on the ice close to the beach- 
There must have been a number of watches, 
telescopes, compasses, guns, (several double 
barrelled ) &c., all of which appear to have been 
broken up, as I saw pieces of these different 
articles with the Esquimaux, and together with 
some silver spoons and forks, purchased as 
many as I could obtain.” 
Sir John Franklin was born at Spilsby, in 
Lincolnshire, near the North Sea, in 1786, and 
would accordingly have been 68 years of age 
had he survived to the present time. He early 
manifested a predilection for the sea, and was 
ever characterized by a fearless and adventur¬ 
ous spirit. He entered the British naval ser¬ 
vice on a Midshipman’s warrant in the 14th 
year of his age; was in the battle of Copenha¬ 
gen, in 1801, and two years after accompanied 
his relative, Captain Flinders, on a voyage of 
discovery to the South Sea, during which he 
was shipwrecked on the coast of New Holland. 
At a subsequent period, he was in the Belero- 
phon at the battle of Trafalgar. In 1814 he 
was a lieutenant in the Bedford, which brought 
the allied monarchs to England. He was con¬ 
cerned in the attack on New Orleans, where he 
gained great credit by his bravery and skill.— 
In 1818 he commanded the brig Trent in the 
Polar Expedition under Captain Buchan. 
In 1819 he commanded a land expedition 
from Hudson’s Bay to the mouth of the Cop¬ 
permine, and after incredible hardships, having 
been once rescued from death by the Indians, 
he returned to England in 1822. He was pro¬ 
moted to the rank of Post Captain, and three 
years after undertook a second expedition to 
the same inhospitable shores, penetrating as 
far as the 17th degree of latitude and the 
150th of West Longitude. He was knighted 
by George the Fourth in 1830, and was sub¬ 
sequently appointed Governor of Van Deiman’s 
Land, whence he was recalled in 1845 to be sent 
upon the expedition from which he was fated 
never to return. 
Sir John was twice married, first in 1823 to 
Eleanor Ann, daughter of Mr. Porden, an 
eminent artist; and secondly in 1828, after his 
first wife’s decease, to Jane, second daughter 
of John Griffith, Esq., of Bedford Place, 
London. Both were women of pre-eminent 
talent and virtues, and the self-sacrifising and 
heroic spirit of the latter in behalf of her lost 
husband and his ill-fated companions, has 
touched a sympathetic chord in every human 
bosom. 
SLAVING FOR MONEY. 
We pity the man who wears out his energies 
in the accumulation of riches, which, when 
amassed, he will have lost the capacity to en¬ 
joy. He finds himself at the end of his labors, 
a guest at his own feast, without an appetite 
for its dainties. The wine of life is wasted, and 
nothing remains but the lees. The warm 
sympathies of his heart have been choked by 
the inexorable spirit of avarice, and they can¬ 
not be resuscitated. The fountain head of his 
enthusiasm is sealed; he looks at all things in 
nature and in art with the eye of calculation; 
hard-matter-of-fact is the only pabulum his 
mind can feed on; the elastic spring of impulse 
—the poetry of existence is gone. 
Are wealth and position an equivalent for 
these losses? Is not the millionaire, who has 
acquired wealth at such a cost, a miserable 
bankrupt? In our opinion there is little to 
choose, on the score of wisdom, between the 
individual who recklessly squanders his money 
as he goes along, in folly aud extravagance, 
and the false economist who denies himself the 
wholesome enjoyments of life, in order to swell 
the treasure, which, in the hardening process 
of scraping up, he had become too mean to 
spend, and too selfish to give away. 
The only rational way to live, is to mix la¬ 
bor with enjoyment—a streak of fat and a 
streak of lean. There is nothing like a streaky 
life—a pleasant mixture of exertion, thankful¬ 
ness, love, jollity, and repose. The man who 
slaves for riches, makes a poor return to that 
God who took the trouble of making him for 
a better purpose .—Montgomery Ledger. 
Making Promises.— Always think before 
you make an an assertion. Be sure that it is 
correct before you utter it, and that you will 
not be compelled to retract it after it has once 
passed your lips. Invariably make it certain 
before you give a promise that it can be ful¬ 
filled. We speak to impulsive, well-meaning 
men, (there are many of them,) who are too 
much in the habit of letting their wishes 
prompt their utterance, and who, in obedience 
to their desire to do more than they can, say 
hastily that they will do it, and afterwards, to 
their great distress and mortification, find that 
they are placed in that most humikating of all 
positions—a falsifier of their word. These 
men are not morally liars—for a lie is consti¬ 
tuted of something which the speaker knows 
is not true when he says it—but they get the 
character for being such and as such are des¬ 
pised and scouted. One cannot be too cau¬ 
tious in making business or other promises.— 
Don’t say you will because you think you can 
—be positive you can first. 
Pleasure in general, is the apprehension of 
a suitable object, suitably applied to a rightly 
disposed faculty; and so must be conversant 
both about the faculties of the body and of 
the soul respectively. 
BEYOND THE RIVER. 
Thk following beautiful lines, from the Dublin Univer j 
sity Magazine, will remind the reader of the last scene in 
Bunyan’s “ Pilgrim’s Progress”: 
Time is a river deep and wide; 
And while along its banks we stray, 
VVe see our loved ones o’er its tide 
Sail from our sight away, away. 
Where are they sped—=they who return 
No more to glad our longing eyes ? 
They’ve passed from life’s contracted bourne 
To land unseen, unknown, that lies 
Beyond the river. 
’Tis hid from view; but we may guess 
How beautiful that realm must be ; 
For gleamings of its loveliness, 
In visions granted, oft we see. 
The very clouds that o’er it throw 
Their veil, unraised for mortal sight, 
With gold and purple timings glow, 
Reflected from the glorious light 
Beyond the river. 
And gentle airs, so sweet, so calm, 
Steal sometimes from that viewless sphere; 
The mourner feels their breath of balm, 
And soothed sorrow dries the tear; 
And sometimes list’ning ear may gain 
Entrancing sound that hither floats; 
The echo of a distant strain, 
Of harps’ and voices’ blended notes, 
Beyond the rivor. 
There are our loved ones in their rest; 
1 hey ve cross d Time's River—now no more 
They heed the bubbles on its breast, 
Nor feel the storms that sweep its shore. 
But there pure love can live, can last— 
They look for us their home to share i 
When we in turn away have pass’d. 
What joyful greetings wait us there, 
Beyond the river. 
REST OF THE SABBATH. 
The North British Review speaks of the 
physical necessity of the Sabbath, as fol¬ 
lows : 
The Creator has given us a natural restora¬ 
tive—sleep; and amoral restorative—Sabbath¬ 
keeping; and it is ruin to dispense with either. 
Under the pressure of high excitement, indi¬ 
viduals have passed weeks together with little 
sleep, or none; but when the process is loner 
continued, the over-driven powers rebel, and 
fever, delirium and death come on. Nor can 
the natural amount be systematically curtailed 
without corresponding mischief. The Sabbath 
does not arrive like sleep. The day of rest 
does not steal over us lika the hour of slumber, 
it does not entrance us almost whether we will 
or not; but, addressing us as intelligent be- 
ings, our Creator assures us that we need it 
and bids us notice its return, and court its ren-, 
ovation. And if, going in the face of the Cre¬ 
ator’s kindness, we force ourselves to work all 
days alike, it is not long till we pay the forfeit. 
1 iie mental worker—tlie man of business, or 
the man ol letters, finds his ideas becoming tur¬ 
bid and slow; the equipoise of his faculties is 
upsc; ; he grows moody, fitful, and capricious; 
and with his mental elasticity broken, should 
any disaster occur, he subsides into habitual 
melancholy, or self-destruction speeds his guil¬ 
ty exit from a gloomy world. And the manaal 
worker—the artizau, the engineer, by toiliu”- 
on trom day to day, and week to week, the 
bright intuition of his eyes gets blunted; and, 
forgetful of their cunning, his fingers no longer 
perlorm their feats of twinkling agility, nor by 
a plas.tio touch mould dead matter, or wield 
mechanic power; but mingling his life’s blood 
in his daily drudgery, his lucks are premature¬ 
ly gray, his general humour sours; and slaving 
it till he has become a morose or reckless man, 
for an extra effort, or any blink of balmy feel¬ 
ings, he must stand indebted to opium or al¬ 
cohol. 
Cost of Public Worship.— It is estimated 
that the current expenses of the churches of 
Boston will amount to $240,000 a year. The 
value of the church estates is about $4,000,- 
000. The expenses of the different societies 
vary from $1,500 to $5,500 a year. The cost 
of public worship in the churches occupied by 
the wealthier portion of the citizens will aver¬ 
age about $100 a Sunday. The clergyman 
has a salary of $3,000, the music costs about 
$1,000, and the miscellaneous expenses will be 
trom $1,000 to $1,500 a year The taxes on 
the pews vary from $8 to $70 a year, accord¬ 
ing to their value. The Methodist preachers 
have the smallest average salaries and the Uni¬ 
tarians the largest. The Protestant sects have 
ample pew accommodations for their worship¬ 
pers, but the Catholics greatly need a large 
edifice at the West End. They are now erect¬ 
ing spacious churches in the South Cove and 
at the south part of Tremont st. North of 
the line of State, Court and Cambridge-sts. 
the Catholics have not more than half room 
enough for the members of their faith. About 
twenty sects have places of worship in this 
city, and the figures given above will show 
that no compulsion is needed to insure a liber¬ 
al support for public worship from the commu¬ 
nity .—Boston Transcript. 
The Crooked.— Have you noticed that tree 
in the corner of the yard? When very young 
it was bent down to the earth and embedded 
there. It then shot up again, but now it is 
forever deformed. The sun may shine, the 
dew and rain may fall, but’ the tree will never 
be straight. So, bad habits, once fixed, are 
hard thing’s to root out. 
Sophistry may perplex truth, ingenuity may 
warp the decrees of justice, and ridicule may 
raise an undeserved laugh; but where free in¬ 
quiry prevails, errors will be corrected, justice 
will be revered, and ridicule will be retorted on 
those who have abused its influence. 
Those who feel most deeply, are most given 
to disguise their feelings, and derision is never 
so agonizing as when it pounces on the wan¬ 
derings of misguided sensibility. 
