[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.| 
HOW TO TAKE LIFE. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE MESSENGER OF LIFE. 
There is a great inducement to the Christian 
author to prosecute his work with vigor. A little 
delay, and one who might have been benefited 
may have passed beyond his influence. The 
weary heart, the crushed spirit, that might have 
been lifted up by a word of sympathy, may have 
sighed away its life. The faltering one who 
might, by a word in season, have been pained to 
‘•This world E not so bad a world 
Ab some would like to make it ; 
But whether good, or w hether bad, 
Depends on how we take it.” 
It is altogether the best world we know any¬ 
thing about, as yet, and if each one of us would 
do our duty, it would probably be as good and 
pleasant us any we ever shall inhabit Sickness, 
sorrow and trouble, are mostly of our own mak¬ 
ing. The earth itself is gloriously beautiful, and 
full of wonders, and treasures to the ideal and in¬ 
quiring mind. No doubt a wise Creator designed 
it aB the abode of peace and happiness; but man, 
instead of following the dictates of nature every¬ 
where exhibited, 
Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh 
and blood, he also himself likewise took part of the 
name; that through death he might destroy him that 
had the power of death, that is, the devil; and deliver 
them, who through fear of death were all their lifetime 
subject to bondage.—Hebrews, ‘2 chapter: 14 and 15 veraes, 
A Mkssknokr to man has ooroe 
With healing on his wings, 
Whose trident breaks the power of death 
And takes away its stings. 
The Messenger—a mystery— 
Though clothod in flesh and blood, 
C one from above with Strength and Love— 
The attributes of God. 
To man He blest 
[Written for ^Moore's Rural New-Yorker.) 
MY NANNY. 
ewor. Does he whose task it is to utter “thoughts 
that breathe, and words that burn,” shrink from 
the toil ? Toil!—blessed toil, that lifts the throb¬ 
bing heart of humanity nearer to the great heart 
of God! Messed toil, that dries up grief, that 
lifts burdens of care, that incites to noble deeds, 
that breaks the bonds of oppression! Blessed 
| toil, though it silver the locks before the winter 
of age, for those whitened locks shall be a coronet 
of glory! 
What can he more beautiful than the decline of 
Jus life, who has spent its meridian thus nobly? 
The affection and gratitude of multitudes whom 
he has blessed filters into his heart like sweet 
waters, and refreshes it for his labors. The light 
of his life of love reflected upon him at every 
step, yet he acknowledges his imperfections, and, 
humbly as a little child, enwraps himself in thn 
BT W IS .NIK WILLIAN 
Or J. W. BARKER. 
An humble, working man am I, 
And dollars scarce have any; 
One little cot beneath Cod’s sky 
Is all 1 own with Nanny. 
The world is blind,—it calls roe poor,- 
Ynt t’m worth more than money; 
No man was o'er no rich before 
As I am with my Nanny. 
Far better fed than Jupiter, 
I live on “ milk and honey;” 
But Herr ne'er was lovelier 
Than my “ cup-bearer,” Nanny. 
Her eyc-B so blue,—her brow so fair,— 
Her mouth ‘‘sac sweet and bonnie,” 
Like golden cloud the waving hair 
That decks the head of Nanny, 
With her soft arms around my neck. 
All else on earth may leave me; 
The world's cold looks I’ll little reck, 
I only care for Nanny. 
Her love gilds life with sunshine* rare. 
And yields me blessings, many; 
finch morn and night I kneel in prayer. 
And thank my God for Nanny. 
Rochester, N. Y., I860. 
ln «»* sunlight.—morn is advancing,— 
Darkness hath vanished from meadow and hill. 
Mellow the rays through the foliage gtancing. 
Sweet is the song of the robin and rill. 
" by will ye darken the life Of the Spirit? 
Cover with Ahadovs the dream of your bliss? 
Beauty and joy ye all may inherit— 
Gleams from the fairy land brighten in this. 
Open the shutter and let in the sunlight. 
Softly it rests on thy woariiorno heart, 
Like the sweet stars through the curtain of midnight 
Beauty is wooing the nhadows apart. 
See the sweet flower itg petals unfolding, 
Roused by the life-giving whispers of dawn, 
Smiling the first golden ray in beholding, 
haughlDg outright at the gushing of morn. 
What if the flowret, far down in the valley 
Shrouded all night in its darkness and gloom 
Scoffed at the first golden beams of the morning, 
Closed ita bright lips and withhold it perfume? 
Thus Bhail the so„[, with its powers of communion, 
Close up its windows and bar out the light? 
Scorn with the beautiful ever a union, 
Draw round Its uvenues darkness and night? 
Open the shutter and let in the sunlight, 
And with the beautiful wooiug thy heart 
Soon will arise o’er the darknes- 
I, is constantly seeking new inven¬ 
tions whereby he can make his life more miser¬ 
able, usually under the impression he ia doing 
himself and the world a great kindneBS. 
Ignorance is at the foundation of most of our 
trials, and by the time we have learned the truest 
and best tvay, our physical system la used up; and 
wisdom, no matter how great, will never restore 
to life and action an exhausted body. O, if we 
had only known how to live! If we could have 
known how to “tukc life' at first,—in our youth. 
^Ve had advice, sometimes, but there were some 
truths and mysteries hidden from us, and we arc 
compelled to learn them by sad experience. 
Hut, with all the sad mistakes we have all made, 
there mifiht hr more happiness were families more 
united. There ia so much disaffection and misun¬ 
derstanding allowed to rankle, and fester, and 
poison our domestic peace. Parents and chil¬ 
dren, husbands and wives, arc living estranged 
and disaffected, and die unreconciled, just for the 
want of perfect trust and confidence in each 
other; or, often, perhaps, through Ignorance of 
intentions, and neglectof explanations. Bnt time 
docs not wait for us. and death, ere InTlF will nnrin I 
assurance gare, 
His saddened heart to cheer, 
That victory by Him achieved 
Removed the life-long fear 
\\ hich held the dying sons of earth 
ln bondage dark and dread, 
And mode them shrink from the river’s brink 
That joins us with the dead. 
And He came Dot in rich attire, 
A* come the kings of earth, 
Nor did the trumpet's martial strains 
Proclaim His heavenly birth. 
Upon His head no crown did wear, 
Held neither sword or pen, 
Nor grasped H?s hand the golden wand 
That sways the hearts of men. 
All silently Ho cainc to bless, 
As comes the light of day. 
Or as the spring-time when depart* 
Tbo Winter’s dark array. 
And when n sacrifice for sin 
He freely gave His blood, 
A crimson tide flowed from his side 
More potent than the flood. 
And. glorious thought! The grave did ope! 
Whence Ilis tinmarbled clay 
Arose in majesty supreme 
To Heaven’s eternal day; 
Where by the rauaora made for man 
Is endless life enjoyed; 
For he that bath the power of death 
Shall likewise be destroyed. 
Weep not for those who go before 
To that immortal land, 
We know they wait to welcome us 
And with the angels stand. 
We know the Messenger of Life 
Did break the tyrant’s rod, 
O'er Death and pain, through Him we reign,— 
The Incarnate Son of God. 
Burns, N. Y„ 1860. 
M7tl Summoilw ’ Wemi « the Rural 
MANLY MEN* 
A man may chain his appetites, and hold the 
realm of knowledge within the cincture of his 
brain, and yet in the saddest aspect of all be over¬ 
come by the world. And again I say, how start¬ 
ling is the fact that one may hold on steadily up 
to a particular point, and there all gives way.' 0 
my brother man, moaning to live the life of duty! 
the life of religion! the world is g mighty antago¬ 
nist, subtle as it is strong; more to bo dreaded in 
its whispers to the heart’s secret inclinations than 
in gross shapes of evil. And let me say to you 
that it is a great thing in this respect to overcome 
the world. It is a great thing by God’s help and 
your own effort to keep it in its place, nnd say to 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
AUNT MAG. ON MATRIMONY. 
me upon tne sunject all the morning. I 
was to die an out-aud-out, fidgety, forbidding, 
forsaken, forlorn old maid,—nothing less, That 
was flat. I was to lie President of a Hewing Cir¬ 
cle, and was to be vitally interested in carrying 
around budgets of tracks and temperance pledges. 
I was to bn as thin as a knife-blade, and to love 
cats and puppies, and to drink torrents of tea, and 
be spiteful to pretty girls and babies, (the celestial 
creatures,) and then 1 was to die and have every¬ 
body shedding only “crocodile tears’’ over my 
grave! Well, really, 1 quite quailed before my 
“manifest destiny.’’ 
Aunt Mao. came over in the afternoon. Now 
Aunt Mag. is — well, she is a regular nonc-such. 
She is my oracle, and “sensible to the last gasp.’’ 
“You see, child,’’ said aunty, “that people in 
general, —vulgar people,— those whoso powers 
of perception and reflection are cither undevel¬ 
oped or natuTally deficient, will never judge you 
by the quality of your actions, but only by the 
outward consequences of them—here’s your Dr. 
John Smith, now! What do four hundred and 
ninety-nine out of tho ‘dear five hundred’ see in 
him ? A handsome, popular, polished, rich man, 
and they bow down to him worshiping accord¬ 
ingly- Hess and he, married, would be a splendid 
match.’ Bbss would have nu establishment, and 
position, and the applause of over so many half | 
and three-quarter fools. ‘What do I see in Dr. 
John,’ do you ask me? I see a man of ignoble 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
JESUS WEPT. 
Da. lie weep at whoso advent all Heaven was 
' mon!d - whiIe u Pon the night-air of Judea’s plain 
rang out the joyful acclamations of the herald- 
angels—“Glory to God in the highest, and on 
eiuth peace, good will towards men?” Did He 
weep at whose death-hour the pillars or the earth 
were shaken, while the terror-stricken sun refused 
to look upon the solemn scene? The Son of Gov 
in tears! Surely the sweet anthem of Heaven 
slept while the sympathizing angcla looked down 
upon the wondrous scene. And when again the 
choral symphonies swelled full-toned along the 
golden streets and around the Throne of God, 
incthmks the melodies were sweeter, and the emo¬ 
tions of the harpists higher in their fullness of 
love, on account of the new and wondrous scene 
which they had looked upon. 
What an indication of the Savior’s tenderness 
and sympathy for fallen man. Ah! those sacred 
tears that coursed his cheek, were,—like the work¬ 
ings of bis miraculous power,—so many silent, 
yet powerful witnesses, iucontestiblyproving that 
He was of Heaven! 
“Jesus wept that we might weep!" 
The raven wing of the Angel of Grief may often 
o'erslmdow the home-circle, and Death draw near 
and make a fatal thrust to the heart of a loved 
one. Tears ease the buithened heart, and we 
may go on our pilgrimage of life, letting fall for 
friends severed from us allection’s nilma 
A WORD ABOUT SCHOOL GIRLS. 
’J in. principal of one of the best and most pop¬ 
ular female boarding-schools in New York, lately 
said that she considered almost every one of her 
pupils a proper subject for medical treatment. At 
first thought we would say she ought to name her 
I school Mrs.-'s fashionable hospital. But what, 
then, should we stylo the numerous schools which 
are not so good as hers ? Tile fault is with n oonc 
person, but with our habits or life. H is a noto¬ 
rious fact that the women of this country are far 
less robust and healthy than their consins in Eng¬ 
land. They live too much in-doors and in over¬ 
heated and ill-ventilated rooms. They take too 
little exercise. Their nervous system is develop¬ 
ed too rapidly, and the musoular system, the vital 
powers, are too much neglected. The school oo- 
I copies the girls’ morning entirely, music and 
other accomplishments the afternoon, study or 
society the evening, mid too much of the night, 
and the. few hours left for sleep do not suffice to 
iest and refresh the body for tho same wearying 
round the next day. 
1 he over-tasked, over-excited frame becomes an 
easy prey to insidious disease, intellectual and 
social ambition, both of* parents and child, forbid 
her to relax her efforts on account of any slight, 
derangement of health, and she toils on under the 
most tremendous pressure* till at last poor nature 
can endure it no longer, and the girl glides into 
her grave, or takes her place in that great and in¬ 
creasing company of permanent invalids, who re¬ 
main as more wrecks o t their former solves, vie- ' 
Urns ol their mistakes, and eloquent wurnings to 
those who come after them. I 
" e no * »ow speak of carelessness about t 
food and dress, which is so fruitful a source of r 
disease. We limit ourselves to this excessive t 
stimulation of the brain, this overworking of it t 
and tlie body, and the want of proper and suffi- h 
cient out-door exercise, Owing to our hurrying g 
system there is danger that girls, in the old-fashion b 
sense ol the word, will he classed among the ex- o 
tiuet species, as bojs have been for some time in c; 
our cities. We lift up our voice, asking parents w 
and educators to try to avert simh ». ,-,d,i. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE AUTHOR. 
It is a serious thing to write a book for the 
masses. I he thoughts that go bounding out from 
the heart of the writer to pulsate through the 
great arteries of society and permeate its minutest 
capillaries, should go freighted with an invigora¬ 
ting life-principle. The strength of the social 
body needs.to be sustained. Those conservative 
babit3 of thought and of action which have served 
their time, and become, aa it were, effete, need to 
be replaced by healthy material, and that which 
is adapted to the present state of tho organism, 
A/i equilibrium of temperature needs to be pre- 
Wadhams’ Mills, N. Y., 1860. 
oax — As tne late Professor Hope of 
Princeton, was lying on his dying bed, and just 
before he breathed his last, after saving, “My 
work is done—the pins of the tabernacle are 
taken out,” &c., he began to repeat the lines, 
A guilty, weak And helpless worm, 
On thy kind arms 1 fail," 
when his power of utterance seemed to fail His 
sorrow-stricken wife, who was by his bedside, 
finished the stanza thus: 
” Be thou my strength and righteousness, 
My Savior and my all.” 
K.iy Jesus, said her dying husband; and then 
breathed his last. Our collection baa it “Jesus ” 
and not “Savior,” but probably our lamented 
brother said it, not in the way of correction, but 
because that name sounds so sweet in tho be¬ 
liever’s ear. That delightful passage, “Thou 
shalt call his name Jesus, for he shill save his 
people from their sins,-' was probably in bis mind. 
— Presbyterian. 
SEE TO IT YOURSELF. 
IMPORTANT affairs must be attended to in per¬ 
son. “ if you want your business done,” says the 
proverb, “go and do it; if you don’t want it done 
send some one else.” An indolent gentleman bad 
a freehold estate producing about live hundred a 
year. Becoming involved in debt, he sold half of 
the estate, and let the remainder to an industrious 
farmer for twenty years. About the end of the 
term the farmer called to pay his rent, and asked 
the owner whether he would sell the farm. “Will 
you buy it?” asked the owner, surprised, '• Yes if 
we can agree about the price.” That is exceed¬ 
ingly strange,” observed the gentleman; “ how 
happens it that, while I could not live upon twice 
Brai tiiti. Extract. —You cannot go into the 
meadow and pluck up a single daisy by the roots, 
without breaking up a society of nice relations! 
and detecting a principle more extensive and 
refined than mere gravitation. The handful of 
earth that follows the tinny roots of tlie little 
flower is replete with social elements. A little 
social circle has been formed around that germi¬ 
nating daisy. The sun-beam and the dew-drop 
mi t there, and the soit summer breeze came whis¬ 
pering through the tall grass to join the silent 
conceit. I he earth took them to the daisy gem: 
and all went to work to show that flower to the 
sun. Each mingled in tho lu.ney of its influence, 
and they nursed the “wee canny thing” with an 
aliment that made it grow. And when it lifted 
its eyes towards the sky they wove a soft carpet 
oi grass for its feet. And the sun saw it through 
the green leaves ami smiled as lie passed wn; and, 
by starlight and the moonlighl, they worked on. 
Anil the daisy lifted up its head, and one morrmig 
while the sun was looking, it put on its silver 
limmed diadem, and showed its yellow petals to 
the stars. 
_ • '-'Rarity embraces the wide circle of 
all possible kindness. Every good act ia charity: 
your smiling in vonr brother’s face is charity; aii 
exhortation of your fellow-man to virtuous deeds 
is equal to almsgiving; your putting a wanderer 
in the right road is charity; your assisting tlie 
blind is charity; your moving stones and thorns 
from the madia charity; your giving water to the 
thirsty is charity. A man’s good wealth h.-rcaftcr 
is the good he does in this world to his IVllow- 
man. When lie dies, people will sa y “ What 
property has he left behind him?” ' But the 
angels will ask, - What good deeds has he sent 
before him?” — Irvine. 
Every one who gives a good hook, a good 
essay, or a good poem to the world, has accom¬ 
plished a work for the ages, it may be but a 
little pebble that lias disturbed the sea of human 
life, but somewhere, away on the borders of the 
“Happy Land,” will a dried wavelet kiss the 
shore. 
Run for It!—R un j 
heaven must run for it. 
hell, are all making 
Bunyan. 
’* U! for he that will have 
The devil, law, sin, death, 
ter thee! Run for it!_ 
