[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE WITHERED ROSE. 
[W ritten for Moore's Rnral New-Yorker.] 
acrostics. 
Daily I watched its budding, saw it expand in 
the siralight, mid loved the tiny blossom that 
nestled so softly and shyly among the dark leaves, 
while others, no less beautiful, but Icbb attractive. 
A tew weekB 
a #o, T saw in the Rubai, several 
acrostics on notable persons, conveying, what 
appeared to me, very false opinions of the true 
characters of the individuals, and I wrote the 
following versions in Correction. Of course, a 
farmer cannot say snch elegant things as a Miss 
in raptures, or "a poet much bemused with beer:” 
WALTER SCOTT. 
W bak, vain, pleasant Walter Scott, 
A 11 the charms with which yon wrote, 
I. ike the Clear liquor ot the still, 
T lmt and thy works debauch man’s will,— 
K vor to fond ambition true, 
R eckless it* course yon did pursue. 
S cattered abroad thy fictions volumes flow. 
0 arrying » Tory seed where’er they go; 
0 f sorry sycophants proud Scotia has a’share 
Oactk a letter, full of words 
Sweeter than the notes of birds 
Warbled in the summer season 
On the breezy heechen bonghs; 
But, alas! that broken tows 
Furnish a sufficient reason 
For the burning of the record, 
E^ery maid, 
Who has loved and been betrayed, 
Will avow; 
Once a letter—ashes now 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
II OPE. 
[Written for Moore’ 
's Rural New-Yorker.] 
hymns for devotional hours. 
Hope comes on the wings of morning 
From a distant clime, 
Bearing to the sons of sorrow 
Joy» and peace sublime. 
Brighter days she heralds to them, 
Lighter makes their toil, 
While no longer, from the future, 
Do their hearts recoil. 
For as clear and sparkling sunlight, 
Is the path they tread, 
When o’er trials, all their glory 
Hope and love shall Bbed. 
And each wearisome foreboding 
Of approaching ill, 
Hope dispels, procuring gladness, 
By her mngic skill. 
Hearts dejected, worn and weary. 
Deeply sink in gloom; 
Then the fairy gently lures them 
From such fearful doom. 
And at times she warmly woos them 
With sweet words of love, 
Raising thus the downcast spirit 
To ft sphere above 
Peace, contentment, joy, and quiet, 
Cups replete with mirth, 
Bears she to those who, rejoicing, 
Welcome her to earth. 
And each heart, while warmed and lighted 
By her gonial rayK, 
Shall proclaim her glowing beautv 
And her winning ways. 
Wretched are the homes she scorneth. 
Darkly drear, and sad; 
Happy are the ones Bhe ioveth, 
Cheerful homes, and glad. 
Ahsaway, R. I,, 1860. 
BY EDWARD R.V0WLK8. 
Once a love, that swore to be 
Lasting as eternity, 
And for which she. in requital, 
Gave the love a maiden gives 
Unto him for whom she lives; 
But, ah me! a sad recital 
Would it he to tali how faithless 
He has proved 
Whom she once go deeply loved; 
And how 
Died her hopes with his false passion. 
Once a flame, bnh—ashes now. 
jin vii, u passer -ay stopped to sever a 
fragile stem and bear away a treasure, but none 
noticed this, so quiet and secluded. At noon, 
when the sun became scorching, others bowed 
their bright heads, drooping and withered, upon 
their slender stalks, while this retained its beauty 
and freshness, and came forth bright and radiant 
to carry its fragrunce into the heart of another 
day. One glorious evening, as I eat watching 
the bright rays of the declining snn flashing its 
flood of amber and crimson over the glowing 
West, deepening and brightening alternately, 
then dying away in a sea of purple and gold, 
the following monrnful words burst involuntarily 
from vmm . * 
“-- nre noraestead springs, 
M airing the joyous rills which issue forth 
B ftbble their nature’s talk,-these speak thy worth 
SOUTHEY. 
S 0UTflST 3 ru h who, silly, fond, nnd young, 
0 f Joan of Arc, Jack Cade, and black rebellion sunj 
l ntil I found advancement came { 
T hat great men's fcara more gre 
men'B wrongs. 
IF avlng this great discovery made, 
K ngland should 
[Written for Moore j 
’a Rural New-Yorker. 
SACRED MOMENTS. 
ABE nallowed hours of another Sabbath are 
fast departing. Day is just bidding her constant 
nend (, 00 d night,’’ hoping to greet him early 
on the morrow with a medley rendered all har¬ 
monious because uttered 
taught by Gon himself. 
Hut before we close our 
Of this “Holy Day 
rays of the sun 
the heart of c 
!eft with all the mind-err!; 
twilight stealing over the soul, 
for reflection, 
| now beat in unison, as they 
power” of the Inf 
may enter npon a “ 
the “Savior or men 
may he much 
harps” of the 
ful intelligence that r 
been taken from the dusty folds 
and washed in the life- 
full hard 1 strove 
pay me well for my true love— 
\ ea, and for this, my little genian from my soul I dro 
WORDSWORTH. 
W aad-rino in metaphjsic misfr-’midst aimless rhym 
0 er nightmare sea*,-l„ sickly learning’s climes, 
R egarding bulk, not matter. In their songs some lie 
D cad a* stuffed larks that have no life to fly 
S ueb are the thousands who essay the pen, 
W ishlng they might he thought prophetic men. 
0 f such was Wordsworth, prosy, dull, yet good; 
R ickety children, though well fed, yet with foul blood 
r hug never grow to proper manhoods length, 
li urapy, awry, and augular, without strength. 
IRVING. 
1 A men of j— ! 
it eason too often seeth gr;, 
V irtue in them, like wheat 
I 8 Shrunk if weeds <- 
N ature, in Irving, changed he 
G are grace and 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-York, 
“FOEGETTING THE SUN.” 
Several years ago, upon a torn scrap 
which chancod to full into my possesitic 
an anecdote which ran something after I 
I wo students, who were room mates, a 
some one had morning before the break of day. One 
1 come to read by the light of a lamp in his roc 
parent stalk, all the other started out to climb the mounts! 
sweet passion- rose to the east of the college,) in orde 
itierness in my ness the imposing pageantry of sunrise 
r “ cruel, r wet,” bald and rocky brow. He leached the 
d by the scene, and watched with artist eve the down rob 
npon my table, of the morning, as they unlocked the gav 
oven into bright and ushered in the golden monarch of U 
A er8 > an d tied Ghartned with the beauty of the scene he 1 
eyes upon the scenes 
let us think a little. The 
are just creeping over to cheer 
our western neighbors, and we are 
—s ruind - moving influences of 
— —I. What an hour 
i. How many enraptured hearts 
J a re “ moved by the 
inite. How many, to-night, 
new life ” of fellowship with 
•” To-night, methinks, there 
'■joy in heaven,” as the "golden 
redeemed shall confirm the blisa- 
aotn0 long-buried talent has 
i of worldliness, 
giving fountain of redemp 
tion, to be hereafter returned to the “Treasury of 
Heaven, increased in number, and shining forth 
in all the brightness of never-fading light. Mag¬ 
nificent temples of worship, the plainest chapels 
of prayer, or even the loneliest cot of the believer, 
may all, at this hour, receive a visit from the 
“ IIolie8t of holies.” The promised “ Comforter” 
is out upon a mission to-night. How soothingly 
it whispers the words of acceptance to the hum¬ 
ble penitent, or cheers the heart of the dying Chris¬ 
tian, as, nearing the “ cold waters of Death,” and 
longing for an entrance within the “pearly gates 
of the Celestial City,” he receives the assurance 
that “There slmll lie no night there, and they 
need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the 
Loan God giveth them light, and they shall reign 
forever and ever.” 
Hast thou ever thought that a portion of 
“eternal mind ' animates thy frail body’ It is 
even so, and that tenant will be rendered better 
according to the influence of its 
Thy will inakest that infln- 
vinco to polish this everlasting 
i j “do likewise.” Thou 
a short time for thy work. Of thyself, 
is so perverted that 
earth” for the 
m, to the “ Giver 
” for “He will 
Rukicoi.a. 
.“''*•*■**•» vyC resicu upon the rose 
bush beneath my window. The little, timid blos¬ 
som, the only surviving one, was gone / The 
fragile stem had been broken, and 
borne away the prize. The destroyer had 
and ruthlessly Revered from its 
unheeding its mute appeal, my 
flower. There was indignant bi 
tones as I murmured impetuously 
and, with spirits deeply aaddonci 
sought ray room. There, lying 
was the daintiest little bouquet, wi 
changeful colors by skillful fin, 
tastefully with a knot of blue rit 
was attached a piece of paper, 
written, in a well-known hand, two 
“For Mary.” Ah I raised it, w 
and admiration, 1 beheld my c 
radiant and beautiful, lifting its hi 
| ward, and bleudjug its fragrance 
rounding gems in seeming gratitude and thank¬ 
fulness lor its brief, desolate life, now brightened - 
by congenial associations. Very tenderly I laid heaven^” he was 
the little offering away among the leaves of a feeble light of hi 
book. There it still lies. I often go to it in its This little sketi 
silent slumber, for I love the air of perfect sim- tivu, made a deep 
P in y and peace pervading it* presence. Its the years which i. 
genius, whose bright fancy pleases, 
gr f . at diseases; 
-1 in richest ground, 
nr moisture shnl] too much abound. 
_ it common plan, 
genius, and a model man, 
LONGFELLOW. 
L OW peasants donned the warrior’s mail of yore, 
0 nsted proud kings, now, may a laborer, hoar, 
* o poet, a more farmer, dare to write, 
G ivlng his notion of a popular light? 
F rom an acrostic he ha* learnt that thou 
E ren tilloAt at slavery! Cau that be virtue now, 
L iving in Massachusetts? On steam cars to ride ’ 
L ove comeliness, swim with the people’s tide,- ’ 
O wn weakness and not strength. The test tattle field, 
iV Inch proves man’s courage, batters up his shield! 
DICKENS. 
D KUGTliCD with their dreams, the idle wake 
Insatiate with their themes,-theu books they rake, 
C he ribbing, in fancy, pretty values. 
K ind sentiments, Cinderella shoes, 
| E vaporating all in easy sighs. 
N ot of least value underneath the skies, 
8 uch. folks should Dickens very highly prize. 
MACAULAY. 
M Ai;aci.AY, a gossip, learned, shrewd, acute; 
A beau in ink,—th’ historian minute; 
C andid and just, a good mnn well inclined, 
A fter the fashion of our titled kind. 
L nder the cloak of wise induction, why 
L eft you no hope to British slavery? 
A nd shall mechanics, laborers, all the ignoble horde 
* carn on {ot ages—to set you up - My Lord?” 
There’s your acrostic, and we fain would see 
How fares our Thoms* in the world “ to be!” 
IV),at work he does,-if he’s a gentleman, 
And writeth verses, docs new histories plan. 
1 hou best with wise men's dust, by laureate bones. 
Nesi Shakspeare's, Milton’s monumental stories 
Whew goes thy soul? A writing of critiques, 
Suggesting sneers ’gainst simple fanatics? 
A word from thee would pacify the nations, 
On Cromwell’s, Charles’, James’. William’s location? 
Where’s Lewis, or Napoleon, or the Georges? 
The spanning cattle:—the automatons of forges? 
Cursed is thy silence, thou babbler of intrigues! 
Tiiou ancient ally of indifferent Whigs. 
When tliou’rt about it, set our minds at rest, 
Which way it just to smite a tyrant’s breast,' 
By slaughter of a thousand hecatombs of slaves. 
In pitched buttles by as many braves? 
Then give the wretch a palver and a guard, 
A priest, a doctor, and a slobbering bard 
I Written for Moore's 
Rural New-Yorker.] 
PLAIN TALK TO THE GIELS. 
Young ladies, young women, girls, whoever 
and wherever you are, allow me to give you a 
few hints, which, if you will heed, I guarantee 
you will never regret. 
There are certain little articles which belong 
to every woman’s toilet, and arc just as indispens¬ 
able to decency as the clothes you wear, and 
wherever you go to stay any length of time, you 
should take them with you just as surely as yonr 
shoes and stockings. These are a hair brush 
coarse and fine comb, tooth brush, if y 0U „ s( ! 
one, needles, pins, thread, scissors, and thimble. 
If you are visiting, you surely need these con- 
venieuces, for you would not be so rude as to 
expect nr ask your friends to furnish them for 
you. Frequently young ladies have spent a few 
weeks with me, und I really was not sorry when 
they left, for they kept my work-basket in such 
confusion that I did not know where to find any- 
thing—my combs and brushes were never where 
I wanted them, making a great deal of trouble 
and not a little vexation. I would just as soon 
you went to my drawers and took out mv collars, 
pocket-kerchiefs, and clothes, and use ,'md wear j 
them, as to go to my work-basket, disarranging 
my needle-book, carrying off every pin, and 
snarling my thread. You take up any number of t 
needles, never putting them hack as you found * 
them, on the loaves, singly, but through all the t 
leaves together, aud when I want a certain sized 
needle, no matter what my haste, I have to sort , 
them before I find what I need; or, if I go to my ,, 
cushion in a hurry for a pin, not one can I find ^ 
and I must take time that I cannot well spare ,us{ .. 
then, aud replenish my pin-cushion-: find so it 
or worse, r~ ’ 
“dwelling-place.” 
ence. Itistbypro 
gem, and teach others to 
hast but i 
thou art unable. Thy tast 
thou mistakest a “bubb 
" pearl of great price.” Lc 
of every good and perfect gift, 
guide you into all truth.” 
Gates, N. Y., I860. 
THE OUT-DOOR CHRISTIAN. 
Tiie Boston Transcript tells us of a “j 
Oberlin, who was in the habit of picking 
stones from the roads, as he walked, and 
his flock to do the same.” 
mind—that giving of an air 
the closet — and we coinci 
further remark on the subjec 
contemporary: 
“Give us the man who, 
dears a path, sprinkles sand 
men, ami replenish my pin-cushiom; a ul ; 80 u 
goes, until I get very tired of it, aud wonder what 
sort of a mother these girls had. It is not the 
cost of a few needles and pins, and a little thread, 
but the annoyance of having a disorderly person 
meddle with my things. If y 0u never were 
taught better, you are excusable; but I am sure 
you will never need to be reminded again.-not 
if you reflect a little. 
Only once since I kept house, have I had a girl 
come to do my kitchen work, who hro’t with her a 
single one of the articles I mention, and it annovs 
me beyond measure to see them go to my toilet, 
and work-basket, and help themsclveB as freely as 
I do myself. You would not think me very 
squeamish, if I would not like to eat with your 
fork, and from your plate, after you; yet, I would 
just as soon do so, as use my combs and brushes 
after you have them. You never leave them 
clean ,—such girls never do. l'ou do not know 
how rude and impolite it is to do so, and you 
have no right to ask me to buy you such con¬ 
veniences, any more than buy yon shoes and 
gloves. The first thing I have to do, when I have 
a new girl, is to furnish her with these articles, 
especially with a pair of scissors,—above all 
things, I dislike you meddling with those. Never 
go anywhere again to work without yonr own 
tools; and, depend upon it, such a course will add 
very much to your respectability, to the good 
opinion you covet, and to your own self-respect 
Another thing I wish could be impressed on , 
your minds, and that is,—it is not the noisy girls 
that do the most work. When I hear my dishes f 
whack and clatter together, and a constant rattle r 
about the cook-stove, und see the dust fly in 
clouds after the broom, I assure you my spirits 
sink twenty degrees; for I dislike to change girls, f. 
and I have either to learn her, or, rather, unlearn 
her habits, submit to numerous vexations and C 
losses, or dismiss her. 111 
Now, do please to think of these things, and be 
teachable, 
RAINY DAYS. 
“Into each life 
shine is very beautiful, and all 
in it; hut it is m 
the earth in a r 
storms. It is not natural for 
hopes and ardent r 
which is curtained by 
by the dripping rniu. 
rainy day. It brings with it quiet home-pleasures 
which should endear it to those whose chosen 
place is by the fireside. It gives space for thought 
and reflection, for looking inward upon our own 
hearts, which cannot be enjoyed when the flush¬ 
ing light, the sapphire sky, and all the golden 
glory of a sunny day are dissipating thought, and 
wooing us to enter the great world without It 
brings the members of a family closer together 
aud unites them by a stronger tie. 
The little daughter of a fashionable mother 
once said to me, on a dark and lowering day: 
“ 1 do ,10 P° it Will rain fast this afternoon.” 
some rain must fall.” Sun- 
young hearts revel 
lovely as when it wraps 
it after a period of 
youth, with its bright 
energy, to rejoice in the day 
Y a leaden sky, and fringed 
Yet I would plead for a , 
in city or suburbs, 
- . or ashes ou the ice, 
drams off the standing water in front of his rirem- 
ises, turns out in his sleigh for pedestrians, or 
keeps to the far side, or middle of the road to 
save walkers from the dust; is careful not to com- 
pel foot passengers to go into the mud to let his 
torses have the driest track, and steers clear of 
curb-stones that people may not he sprinkled by 
the sp ashing of hoofs or the rolling of wheels 
through mud-puddles—give us this man, aud you 
give us a gentleman in the true sense; nay more 
a Christian - in little things. Give ns the ladyJ 
tor she will be one, though clothed in six-penny 
calico-who contracts, and refuses in omnibus 
or car to spread her crinoline, as if for a picayune 
she had bought the whole vehicle; who does not 
a low the half-price darlings to crowd out the 
adulte, takes a jam in the crowd without looking 
daggers, pleasantly thanks a gentleman for resign" 
mg a seat in her behalf, does not bother shopmen 
with the showing and pricing of goods she does 
not mean to buy, and who is not above carrying 
home a small parcel in her own kid gloves—and 
JT h ® 1Ve °, S l Iad y who understands woman’s 
light to make herself beloved by kind and gentle 
ways, and to wm the respect of all sensible men.” 
the sun. Could we but he induced to lift the 
heavy folds which ignorance or folly have twined 
about us, and 
“All the windows of the soul, 
Wide open to the sun,” 
how charming would be the change within.— 
Could all the false lights, so constantly luring us 
to the wrong, be extinguished, there would vanish 
uitli them all the dark shadows of sorrow and sin 
which now disfigure our beautiful world. If we 
would but unlock the blinds our own hands have 
hound around our hearts, and let their chilled 
chambers he warmed by the rays from the snn of 
Divine Truth nnd Love, how quickly would the 
pining blossoms there spring up to a fresher 
growth, and yield their now latent perfumes to 
charm the darkest hours of night. The light of 
truth and love! The only light of earth which 
fades not here,— which will lead those who hum- 
blj follow it in that path which groweth “bright¬ 
er, and brighter, to the perfect day.” e. s. t. 
Bast Henrietta, N. Y., I860. 
I him Peoi'le.— There 
I cannot bear—the pinks of fashionable p— 
whose every word is precise, and whose 
movement is unexceptionable; but w 
well versed r " ' 
vior, have not a particle of soul or 
about them. We allow that their 
be abundantly correct. There r 
in every position, not a smile out of place! and 
not a step that would not hear the measurement 
of the severest 
is a set of people whom 
propriety 
—-J every 
bo, though 
in all the catalogues of polite beha- 
cordiaiity 
manners may 
may be elegance 
Idleness and Industry.— The idle levy a very 
hea vy tax upon the industrious when, by frivolous 
visitations, they rob them of their time. Such 
poisons beg their daily happiness from door to 
door, as beggars do daily bread, and like them, 
sometimes meet with a rebuff A mere gossip 
ought not to wonder if we are tired of him, see¬ 
ing that we are indebted for the honor of his visit 
solely to the circumstance of his being tired of 
himself. 
A SCKIl-TUKAL SUM. 
Add to your faith, virtue; 
And to your virtue, knowledge; 
And to knowledge, temperance; 
And to temperance, patience; 
And to patience, godliness: 
And to godliness, brotherly kindness 
And to brotherly kindness, charity. 
The A/tsu'er: For if these things be in 
abound, they make you that ye shall n e 
barren nor unfruitful in the knowledm 
Lord Jesus Christ.—2 Peter ; 
scrutiny. This is all very fine; 
lmt what I want is the gayety of social inter¬ 
course; the frankness that speaks affability to all, 
that chases timidity from every bosom, and tells 
every man in the company to be confident and 
happy. This is what I conceive to be the virtue 
°f t * lt ‘ ltAl ’ nc,t thu sickening formality of 
those who walk by rule, and would reduce the 
whole of human life to a wire-bound system of 
misery and constraint.— Ih-. Chambers . 
not offended, for I am your true 
friend, and a far better one than a mistress who 
will get rid of you without advice, or refrain from 
giving it, for fear of hurting your feelings, and 
yon will think so when you get older and wiser, 
if ever you do. A Farmer’s Wife. 
7 
