frsrxf 
■•DA 
[Th» recent publication in the Rural of Dr. Elt's 
series of article* bescrlptire of the “New York Wilder¬ 
ness—its lakes, rivers, scenery, routes, habitants, etc..— 
probably induced one of our fair readers in the itaquette 
region to indite the following:] 
AN INVITATION TO NED BUNTLINE. 
with human nature in men of all grades, from the 
king down to the beggar, nis works are full of 
passages, any one of which would prove its author 
a man of genius. 
Alas, that works of so much genins cannot be 
recommended to the young. Their moral ten¬ 
dency is far from being good. It may be said, by 
way of excuse, that his plays are not more licen¬ 
tious than was the conversation of bis conterapo- 
raiies. This may be true; but if so, it do”s not 
prove that they arc not calculated to pollute the 
minds of those who read them. They cannot be 
read at the fireside of a respectable family without 
causing the blush of shame to suffuse the cheek. 
There are few even of his most virtuous charac¬ 
ters, in whose mouths he does not place language 
that tvould not be tolerated in decent society. 
Ah, me! those sorrowful eyes, now raised im¬ 
ploringly to beuven, now drooping hopelessly 
earthward again,—of what do they tell? Shadows 
from them steal over my owa, and through the 
gloom flit despairing thoughts, chastened hopes, 
and forms of loved ones who have passed through 
death’s dark portal. 
Thoso dreadful eyes! to look into which is to 
make one shuducr and shrink away from them, 
thinking that if there could be such a thing, an 
evil spirit had become incarnate, aud was wan¬ 
dering about among mortals, literally “seeking 
whom he may devour.” 
Tbeieare blind eyes, upon which were never 
yet traced the beauiilul forms with which God 
has filled earth and heaven; which never yet 
caught the tints that color them. Alas for such! 
We see, thank God. n, k. c. 
Prluoeton, 111., 18G0. 
BT C. B. BRIGHAM, 
Comb down from your “ Eagle’s Nest,” dear Ned; 
TVs hare many things to say 
That never od paper can be said, 
It is such a tedious way; 
Come down the river—the winding river— 
And over the lakes, like a shaft from a quiver, 
And alight at our “ landing tree,” we pray. 
We will open the door for you ever so wide, 
And will bring you the easy chair; 
We will feast you from morning till even-tide 
On the hunter-farmer’s fare; 
Or on the river—the broad still river— 
Where the finny “beauties” in dread may shiver— 
We'll glide to the tune of “ Throw away Care.” 
Your tales of the oceao and scenes on the land 
Havo made ns good friends, long ago; 
We're sure that «e know you, so give us your hand, 
With ours must our hearts also go; 
For like otir liver—onr pleasant river — 
That seek* other streams, in its course, forever— 
Our souls unto kindred souls must flow. 
So come from your eyrie to quiet “Mayrose,” 
Dear Nkd, nnd a heart-welcome find; 
You see w e are neighbors, and should not be foes_ 
Or strangers—unless so inclined; 
Come down the river—the wood-fringed river— 
And cros» the Ukes, like a shaft from a quiver, 
And answer the greeting of mind to mind. 
Mayrose, Sept 20,1800. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
CHIMES. 
THE VOICE FROM GALILEE 
BT DR. BO.VAR. 
BT LAVRA M CLARKB, 
I heard the voice from Jesus say, 
Come unto me aud rest; 
Lav down, thou weary one, lay down 
Thy head upon my breast. 
I came to Jesus ns I wag, 
Weary, and worn, and gad; 
I found io Him a reating-ptace, 
And He has made me glad. 
I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
Behold I freely give 
The living water, thirsty one, 
Stoop down, and drink, and live. 
I came to Jesus and I drank 
Of that >'fe-giving stream; 
My thirst was quenched, my soul revived 
And now I live in Him. 
I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
I am this dark world's light; 
Look unto Me, thy motn shall rise, 
And all thy day be bright, 
I looked to Jesus, and I found 
In Him my Star, my Sun; 
And in that light of life I’ll walk 
Till traveling days are done. 
Floating on the evening breeze, 
Gently murmuring through the trees, 
Comes the merry chime; 
Bringing many a joyous feeling— 
Through my senses ever stealing 
Harmony sublime. 
Thy loved music cheers the heart, 
Bidding anxious fears depart, 
Softly whispering peace; 
Breathing hopes of future bliss, 
In a bettor world than this, 
Where all borrowings cease. 
Oft there come* a plaintive lay, 
In memory bearing me away 
To a distant borne; 
Happy dreams of those so dear 
Now recall a itaodenod tear — 
All alone I roam. 
Still I love thy notes of sadness, 
Fill my heart with truthful gladness— 
Pleasures ouly bring; 
Sound thy chorus loud and long, 
Distant echoes join thy song— 
Ring, bright hells, ring. 
Rochester, N. Y., 18C0. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
WOMEN AND POLITICS. 
What have we to do with them? I hear some 
fair ono exclaim. This much. When yon are 
awked by an intelligent man (us is often the case,) 
“what are your views on political matters?”—to 
tell what you think,—il you think anything ,—and 
also to give a good reason. No sensible gentle¬ 
man will respect you less for being “ posted ” on 
A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE OF OLD AGE. 
He greatly errs who imagines that old age can¬ 
not be beautiful: 
There is naturally hut one disease—that of old 
age. To leave the world as gently as go out the 
embers on the hearth, or as the caudle in its 
socket, without pain, shock, or spasm, this is 
worth laking pains fori Literally, the lot ia terri¬ 
ble of a man with tottering limbs and gray hairs; 
dying by piece-meal, from racking rheumatism— 
from spasmodic asthma—from torturing gout, or 
the slow-eating cancer, — the mind all the while, 
by reason of incessant pain, growing morose, 
querulous, hitter, and atheistic! On the other 
hand, how ineffably beautiful is it to arrive at a 
hearty, buoyant old age, without uche, or pain, or 
sadness; sunshine always in the face, gladness in 
the eye—the heart, meanwhile, welling up and 
running over with human sympathies and love 
divine, of whom “my mother sang” so oft in the 
clear, sweet, and cherry tones of v outh and health. 
PERSONAL RELIGION, 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
IDEAL OF WOMANHOOD. 
Every one who knows anything of his own 
heart, must he aware that the possession of a good 
feeling ora right motive at onetime, hy no means 
insures its continuance or recurrence in perpetui¬ 
ty. There is so much thoughtlessness w hich leads 
the. mind into snares; so much weakness within, 
which is ready t.o betray to strong attacks from 
without; so much earthly feeling, which presses 
to mingle itself with or succeed to heavenly 
thoughts or actions; so much tendency to alight 
again upon the earth on the proBtnt.nion of a 
well chosen lute; there is so much of all these to 
second Santau’s attempts to lead us captive at his 
will, that only those grossly ignorant of the way¬ 
wardness of human nature, could believe that 
present righteousness is a certain pledge of future 
holiness. Every man must here be his own watch¬ 
man, nor hope to have the charge lu'filled by 
another. A friend may warn and guard against 
outward actions, but where is the second person 
was designed to embody were so imperfectly 
undeislood. Viitoe and patience are revealed in 
woman ns Divine Love. Man and woman were 
made to symbolize the two elements of the 
Universe, and cun only accomplish the object of 
their mission, by a hearty co-operation in each 
others efforts and aflectiuus. 
Ignorance and prejudice have filled the world 
with two lamentable errors—the one representing 
her the same us man, the other as his inferior. 
The Bublime purpose of both man and woman 
should be to carry the object of their mission to 
its highest, capability. Two planets cannot cease 
to move onward in their course of true mission, 
because in their course they revolve about each 
other. 
The rights of man or woman grow out of his 
or her duties,— all duties growing out of his or 
her mission. It is the spiritual beauty of Femi¬ 
nine meekness and purity that causes pride aud 
humility to bow before it. In Dante's great 
Christian poem, the “ Vitra Neuva ,” in which he 
so idolizes his sainted Beatrice,— how the vulgar 
ideals of mouldering antiquity vanish away from 
human vision! It was her gentle spirit that 
called forth this worship, for she was already 
dead when the poem was written. It is not the 
flesh but the spirit of such an one that man loves. 
His soul will worship at the alter of her Divinity 
when Bhe shall have passed away. By Christ¬ 
ianity was the Feminine element introduced into 
the moral world, and the seeds of Divine love 
planted in the hearts of men. 
But woman's love is the inspiration of faith. 
Lost in the dark mazes and financial struggles of 
the world, there are times when the stoutest 
hearts grow faint, and exclaim, watchman, what 
of the night? what of the night? But the dark¬ 
ness still gathers around ns. Shall the day never 
come? Is the world in chaos again, ruled by 
shame and not by wisdom? Behold, the genius 
WITHOUT ENCUMBRANCE.” 
“ BOARD WANTED —a gentleman and lady, without 
encumbrance, desire, &c,” 
One sees queer things in little type in the 
newspapers, sometimes conveying, by implica¬ 
tion, all sorts of doctrines, disclosing people’s 
ideas of happiness when they least suspect it, and 
affording a clue to the faith in 
‘ As lades a summer cloud away, 
As sinks a gale » hen storms are o’er, 
As gently shuts the eye of day, 
As dies a wave along the shore.” 
To have the lamp of life thus go out, physically, 
we must live regularly, temperately, actively; fur 
by these means only can the human clock work 
well till all tho wheels wear out together, and all 
cease their running at the same instant; then 
there is no shock, no pain, no tnrture, and scarce 
a perceptible struggle, so that the moment of de¬ 
parture can be noted only by the most scrutiniz¬ 
ing eye. Reader! may such he your exit and 
many a heart that 
is a scaled book to those that know it best, and 
yet all set forth so many tim.-s daily iu a lull 
advertisement 
Sometimes, as in this nonpareil expression of 
“a want,” we have people’s definition of things 
which set Webster aud Johnson at defiance. 
“ Without encumbrance!” What young moth¬ 
er, when she feels lor the first time her first-born’s 
breath, would ever imagine, in the new blossom¬ 
ing of her new love, there should exist a ^lexicon, 
wherein, under the E’s, it should read thus: “Ed, 
Eg, Ei, El, En. 
Encumbrance, iu A young human being_a 
ABOUT LAUGHING. 
A man who has 
a whole soul” within him, 
whose heart is large and round, will be sensitive 
to all varieties of human experience, and to the 
His mind, pure 
vtcuiub is otecu ignorant 01 tue value of its own 
productions, and those who have written the 
books that bid fair to live the longest, have often 
appeared unconscious that they had accom¬ 
plished anything worthy of remembrance. The 
“Bedford Tinker” long doubted whether his Pil¬ 
grim on bis Journey would be welcomed by many 
friends. Burns’ highest expectations, when he 
published his volume of poems, was, that a few of 
his countrymen might think him “a clever fel¬ 
low.” Even Yiroil, when near his death, re¬ 
quested his friends to burn the rEneid, and it was 
only by the authority of Augustus that the woik 
was saved from the flames. While this modesty 
may, in some respects, deserve praise, it has kept 
from us the knowledge we might otherwise have 
possessed of many great writers. What would 
not the world give for the autobiography of 
Shakspeabe? 
Even our author's works have not oome down 
to us pure. They are in so deranged a state, that 
the exp’anation of them has given more employ¬ 
ment to the critic than that of the w oils of any 
other modern author. They are a strange mix- 
turo of blemishes and beauties. There are few 
pages in which the critic does not find some of 
his rules violated, — faults which would prove 
fatal to the reputation of aoy man of ordinary 
talent. But it is often the privilege of the highest 
order of genius to disregard rules that others are 
forced to obey. Such men as Shaksteake are a 
law unto themselves. Doubtless some of his 
ever varying shades of emotion 
and transparent, is like one of the Scottish lakes, 
over which the clouds chase each other swiftly, 
and which is now daikened by showers, and now 
lighted up by gleams of sunshine. So upon his 
open countenance, the mirror of a noble heart, 
does the sunshine come and go in smiles and 
tears. This cbaDgefulness of feeling the Bible 
does not repress, but rather commands, when it 
bids ns “rejoice with them that rejoice, and weep 
with them that weep.” 
Nor does it check that natural gayety, which is 
While it re- 
NOTHING LOST. 
Looking into a paper mill, a few days since, we 
saw numerous hags of rags thrown together in 
large piles. These ragB were the worthless rem¬ 
nants thrown aside in making up garments, the 
refuse torn off at the factory from the handsome 
pieces sent to the market, and the soiled parts 
which were left from the worn-out, cast away 
garments. These are taken and transformed 
into sheets of paper by the skill of man. On 
their fair folds the news of the day is sent forth 
to greet the eye of the world. If man can effect 
this change out of dirty, useless things, may not 
God produce transformations as beautiful from 
our poor humanity? May not he gather np the 
outcasts of social life, the morally degraded, the 
loul sensualist, those who have lost the power to 
render any good Bervice to the race, those who 
are rejected from all the circles of respectability 
— may not he take these defiled, abused and 
fallen souls, and by the discipline of his provi¬ 
dence and the power of his spirit, make them, as 
it were, pure sheets, upon which may be inscribed 
the good news of salvation, and the glad tidiDgs 
of the gospel— Gosj/el Banner. 
Earthly vs. Heavenly Qualities. —There 
are thousands of thousands of men, of whom, if 
you take away their houses and ships, and lands, 
and fiscal skill, and such other qualities belong¬ 
ing to them as they will not want iu heaven, 
there will not he enough left to represent them 
there, of righteousness, and godliness, and faith, 
and love, and patience, and meekness, and such 
like qualities. They have used all the faculties 
up for fuel for their machine. It has been their 
business in life to sacrifice probity that they 
might be rich; that they might gain power and 
influence: that they might make their hold on 
this world broader and stronger. And if they 
cannot carry forth these things, which have been 
the objects to the attainment of which they have 
devoted all their energies, what is left for them 
to go out of life with?— Beecher . 
the overflow of healthful spirits, 
proves senseless mirth, it yet declares that “a 
merry heart doeth good like a medicine,” and 
often animates those who are prone to despond¬ 
ency and gloom, not only to that peace and con¬ 
tentment which come from faith, but to the live¬ 
liest demonstrations of overflowing joy. Where, 
then, is the point of divergence between the 
two? When is it right to indulge in laughter 
and mirth, and when is it foolish and wicked? 
On this point we have a simple rule: that it is 
right to laugh when there is anything to laugh at. 
There are many things in life which are ludicrous 
and absurd, at which a man would do violence to 
himself, if he were not amused. And if iu this 
there is no mixture of malice or ill nature, it is 
peifectly right to smile at the absurdities and 
follies of conceited and pompous men and women. 
So of that laughter which is called forth by a 
pleasant, genial humor, or a delicate, playful wit. 
It is the finer natures which are most sensitive 
to this play of the fancy. The miith it evokes is 
not the coarse, broad laugh, but that fine spiritual 
smile that twinkles in the eyes and lurks around 
the corners of the mouth, and diffuses a glow 
over the whole countenance, 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
IG Y EG S . 
What a difference there is in eyes! I’ve been 
led to this exclamation by tho thought of a pair 
of keen, scrutiniziBg gray ones, that I dread, 
above all others, to Luvc fixed upon me. For my 
life, T cannot bear np under them, but as I meet 
them, down drop mine, quickly as though guilt 
was written and could be read on them. 
“ I feel the brand upon my forehead now 
Strike hot, sear deep, ns guiltless men may feel 
The felon’s iron, say, and scorn the mark 
Of what they are not.” 
But now I lift them to a pair into which I love 
to look, so pure, bo gentle, so loving, so thought¬ 
ful are they. I can see that tears might some¬ 
times fill them, but. how they could express anger 
or envy I do not so readily see. They seem to 
me like the little mountain-lakes almost in cloud- 
land, where their little basins are filled directly 
Evangelist. 
It is a good thing to profess religion when a 
man has any religion to profess. There 1 b no 
objection to putting goods in the shop window, 
and hanging them in festoons about the door, for 
exhibition, unless a man puts all he has gottbere. 
Buti: the shop i3 empty, then the goods in the 
wiDdow and about the door are a cheat. And if 
a man has true piety, there is no objection to his 
making an open profession of it— H. W. Beecher. 
The test of enjoyment is the remembrance that 
it leaves behind it 
