JAN. 17. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND EAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
r Entered according to Act of OongxeBg, in the year 18 R 6 , by O. 
1 1 ). T. Moorr, in tha Olerk's Office of the District Coart for 
IBo Northern District of Now York.] 
y /%j> e y notwithstanding notices threatening the depreda- 
it £ rjh 11 £ L tors p^ishment. But the real thieves are 
o * the guides traljjang about the place, and the one 
■ ■ who accompanied us offered to send a set of six 
ccording to Act of CongjoBg, in the year ism, by D. blocks to any place we should direct for fifteen 
them District Of Now York.] dollars. We asked him how he managed to get 
-them. "Ob,” said lie very honestly, “we come in 
:* Ifoot mis Sms. the u *K ht with ° ar boats -” when we declined 
^ _ contracting for a set, he gave us hi3 address, so 
E TTER 11.-I EEL AND. th “‘ we » ho “" i , k "7 “’ ,to ’“l ” l .“f OtTr !° ““ 
in case we should change our minds.” The Cause- 
BY qlezen f. wiLCOX. wa J is tlie Property of a nobleman. 
_ A Short Walk and Disagreeable Lodgings. 
The Giant’s Causeway. We ascended the cliffs by another steep and zig- 
we resumed the road to the Causeway, zag path, and taking the coast road for Belfast, 
only at a small village to inquire the walked six miles further that evening, and stopped 
. then took a path across the fields that at a village the name of which I forget. But I 
us to the top of the cliffs. We espied shall not sooi forget the rude fare we received. It 
nen in the vicinity, and some of them on happened to us, as it had two or three times before, 
es, apparently watching for the approach that there was but one public house in the place, 
rs. While lying on the grass, resting our- and none other within several miles. It stood 
id enjoyiug the glorious view of the ocean, near the end of the village, and was almost the 
s of them came down, and offered their first building we noticed. At the first glance, I 
as guides, and pressed us to purchase thought it was a baru or something of that sort, 
' their specimens and curiosities. They for it had an enormous front door. The sign, 
.ts at the foot of the cliffs, for the purpose however, soon convinced us that it had some pre¬ 
ying visitors to the different points of tensions to a house for the accommodation of 
and we made a bargain with them to be travelers. Wo tried the door, hut it was locked, 
ito some of the eaves that extend into the In the road before it stood the village doctor and 
which we were then sitting. clergyman, conversing, and when they saw ub at- 
nding a steep and zigzag path, to the edge tempt the door, they said the landlord was away, 
vatcr, wc entered the boat, which four but would return iu a little while. We laid off our 
owers propelled out upon the Atlantic, knapsacks and turned to admire the magnificent 
i with a gradual curve turned toward the scene before us. The sun was down, but the hcav- 
the precipice, and rowed into the enves. ens were yet filled with his glorious light, which 
;est is six hundred and sixty-six feet long, gradually yielded to the darkness, while here and 
entrance ninety-six high, forming a grand there a bright star shone out rebukingly on the 
Jotliic arch. The cave diminishes iu size dark power which, for a time, held dominion over 
ioru. as it extends further into the rock, the earth. Behind us were the green and various 
air weather the last two hundred feet is bills, their darker forms visible against the etherial 
ired by the water, but may he traversed on vault. Before ns lay the ocean, calm and silent, 
he sun was in the west, and the shadows like a mighty giant in repose, stretching away nn- 
d the face of the cliff, and rendered the til it insensibly blended with the darkness along 
entrance vastly more solemn and impres- the horizon. Far out we could dimly see the 
he men shouted together to let us hear the glitter of a few white sails, like spirits brooding 
•ations, and the echoes rolled into the over the wat.rs. Several islands Extended their 
ipths, and were prolonged until we half huge, dark forms along the surface, and seemed 
d we heard the answering voice of a mon- rather like prodigious monsters, risen from the 
lie swell coming iu struck against the sides deep. Among them we could distinguish Rathlin 
illow heats, and kept the wary boatmen Island, which is entirely the property of a clergy- 
tly at work with their long oars, to prevent man, who exercises in it almost kingly authority, 
, dashing against the rock. What a place imposing on his subjects laws and penalties. His 
he in a storral The boatmen said they severest punishment,however,is to transport them 
ared to remain in it when the sea was to Ireland. 
or the tremendous uproar would fiigbten Meanwhile, the landlord returned, and we en- 
> death. Besides, it was supposed that tered his house. There were several rooms, but I 
ms the waves rolled to the further end, and am not sure that some of them were not used as 
to the very roof. stables. However, we made a virtue of necessity, 
coming out of the cave, they wanted to and sat down on a bench before the peat lire, 
•ound a promontory a mile or two distant, while he prepared the wherewith to still the crav- 
e could got a better view of the Chimneys, iDgB of hunger. Our humble meal was conveyed 
t is said some of the vessels of the Spanish to an upper chamber, which was furnished with a 
[.—la. 2 , 
laWratji fjteiup. 
LETTER II—IRELAND. 
BY OLEZEN F. WILCOX. 
The Giant’s Causeway. 
Aoain we resumed the road to the Causeway, 
stopping only at a small village to inquire the 
way, and then took a path across the fields that 
brought us to the top of the cliflh. We espied 
several men in the vicinity, and some of them on 
eminences, apparently watching for the approach 
of visitors. While lying ou the grass, resting our- 
Belves, and enjoying the glorious view of the ocean, 
a couple of them came down, and offered their 
services as guides, and pressed us to purchase 
some of their specimens and curiosities. They 
kept boats at the foot of the cliffs, for the purpose 
of conveying visitors to the different points of 
interest, and we made a bargain with them to be 
rowed into some of the caves that extend into the 
cliff on which we were then sitting. 
Descending a steep and zigzag path, to the edge 
cl the water, we entered the boat, which four 
strong rowers propelled oat upon the Atlantic, 
and then with a gradual curve turned toward the 
face of the precipice, and rowed into the enves. 
The largest is six hundred and sixty-six feet long, 
and the entrance ninety-six high, forming a grand 
natural Gothic arch. The cave diminishes iu size 
like a horn, as it extends further into the rock, 
and in fair weather the last two hundred feet is 
not covered by the water, but may he traversed on 
foot. The sun was in the west, and the shadows 
darkened the face of the cliff, and rendered the 
gloomy entrance vastly more solemn and impres¬ 
sive. The men shouted together to let us hear the 
reverberations, and the echoes rolled into the 
dark depths, aud were prolonged until we half 
imagined we heard the answering voice of a mon¬ 
ster. The swell coming iu struck against the sides 
with hollow heats, and kept the wary boatmen 
constantly at work with their long oars, to prevent 
the boat dashing against the rock. What a place 
it must ho in a storral The boatmen said they 
never dared to remain in it when the sea was 
rough, for the tremendous uproar would fiigbten 
them to death. Besides, it was supposed that 
sometimes the waves rolled to the further end, and 
dashed to the very roof. 
After coming out of the cave, they wanted to 
row us round a promontory a mile or two distant, 
where we could got a better view of the Chimneys, 
which it is said some of the vessels of the Spanish 
Armada fired at, mistaking them for the towers of rickety table that threatened to fall beneath the 
a castle, and also of the face of the cliff, which is 
four hundred feet high, but the boat tumbled about 
so roughly in the short waves, that I began to feel 
again the terrible sensations of sea-sickness, aud 
we desired them to land us on the Causeway, for 
no beauty or grandeur of scenery can be enjoyed, 
when that unrelenting fiend has power. Accord- 
weight of the dishes, a couple of chairs that we 
were afraid to sit in, and two or three long benches, 
that reminded me of some I was familiar with in 
my Bchoolboy days, which, standing in the front 
rank of the old-fashioned schoolroom, were com¬ 
monly occupied by the "little boys,” and not un- 
frequently by the “ big ones,” when it was deemed 
ingly we lauded, and one of them took both of our expedient to administer slight punishment for 
knapsacks on his back aud went with us as guide. 
The Giant’S Causeway is wbat its n me portends, 
simply a causeway of basaltic columns, extending 
from the foot of the cliffs into the sea, and it is 
supposed across the Channel, for the same forma¬ 
tbeir transgressions. After the supper we turned 
into the narrow bed and endeavored to forget our 
troubles. But alas! there were others of the liv¬ 
ing kind in the apartment, who evidently had not 
received their suppers, and if we could correctly 
tion of columns appears again at Fingal’s Cave, judge by their operations on us, bad famished for 
The loftiest part is called the Giant’s Loom, and a long time. 
rises only about fifty feet above the water. But _- 
the cliffs behind are from three to four hundred OLD ENGLISH MANNERS. 
feet high. HaLf way up, is the Giant’s Organ, so - 
called from the resemblance that a few columns in Let us consider a little of the domestic econo- 
tho face of the cliff bear to the pipes of an organ, my of our forefathers, and see if the fancies in 
The guide said that it plays once iu seven years, which some writers have indulged about the bos¬ 
on Christmas morning, and then the columns in pitable plenty aud comfort that always reigned in 
the Causeway dance three times round. I asked the licenses of the worshipful of the land are war- 
bim if he had ever heard it play. He replied that ranted by the lacts of the ease. The roast beef of 
he never rose early enough. Y'ou cannot view the old England, "the very fame ol whose name has 
Causeway to advantage until walking over it. The grown into our being,” was positively unheard of. 
sin face is very uneven, as there is scarcely two The only use that beeves were of, was undoubtedly 
columns of exactly the same height. The majority to salt and bait; bread was a great luxury, not in 
have five, six, and seven sides, aud they fit one common use even by the nobles; and as to uut- 
another closely. There are, however, some of brown ale, whutwould it have been before the time 
eight and nine sides. One column isshown, which of Henry Vll., when hops were first introduced | 
is called the keystone. It has five sides. There is into this country. 
also a pentagon, all the sides of which are exactly The records of the Percy family, in the time of , 
equal, and the guide pointed out a diamond-shaped Henry VII., show the extreme coarseness of the 
column, which he asserted to be the only one in mode of living; and an extract or two from the 
the Causeway. There is a chair formed by the | household book of that famous family will give a 
outer columns, called the Wishing Chair, and they hotter idea of the manner in which the most famous 
assert, if a person sit in it, and afterwards takes noble of the time lived, than anything else 1 know i 
three drinks from the Giant's Well, a spring of the of. The permanent household numbered 166 per- [ 
pureBt fresh water issuing from the crevice of a son9i and the average of guests was fifty; and the [ 
rock hut a few yards from the sea, any wish they w bole of the washing for these 216 persons was, 
may have formed in the chair will be fulfilled, and f or oae year 40 s. (a sum probably equal to £40 in 
if the person is uumarried, will be wedded within the present day,) most of which was for the chapel 
a year. Of course wo performed both operations, linen. From Midsummer to Miehsclinas was the 
The guide related the following legend with great only time they indulged it, fresh meat; and the in¬ 
vivacity: structions say, "My lord has on his table, for break- 
“In the olden time there lived a giant on the fast, at seven in the morning, a quart of beer and 
coast, named I in MacCowl. [here also dwelt wine, two pieces of salt fish, aix red herrings, four 
one on the Scotch coast, named Be son DEM AN, and white ones; und, on flesh days, half a chine of beef 
bearing of the prowess of Fin he waded across or mutton boiled.” At dinner, meu ranking as 
the Channel, on the Causeway, for the purpose of knights had a tablo-clotb, which was washed once 
engaging him in single combat. He was twice as a month; and as they had no napkins, aud the fin- ; 
large us T in, and when the latter saw him coming, g C rs wore extensively used in feeding, this portion 
ho was tightened, and set about devising some at least of their linen must have beed in a delight- 
nieans of escape. 1 inally his wife put him in the ful conditiou. Until the thirteenth century, straw 
cradle and covered him with the clothcB. When was tho bed of kings; and before that date the 
Benondeman came in and inquired lor her bus- King and his family slept iu the same chamber.— 
bund, sbe told him that he was coursing along the The first change was to throw a coverlet over the 
headlands. He asked her whit that was in the sleeper—then another was used and the persons un¬ 
cradle. She replied it was Fin’s sou, asserting dressed,their linen being substituted for blankets, 
that he was only one year old, which if Benondk- Beatrice says she would "as lief sleep in the wool- 
man did not believe he might feel his teeth. Ac- en;” which shows, I think, that such a thing was 
cordingly he put his fingers in his mouth, wlicu done, even iuShakspeare’a time. The use of uoth- 
FiN bit off one of them. The Scotch giant shook Dig but coarse dirty woolen next the skin, seldom 
his hand, remarking he would never doubt a wo- changed, and tho heavy, exciting nature of the 
man’s word again, and then went out upon tho highly-salted food on which all lived, of course 
headlands to find the father. After he had depart- tended to produce those diseases for which hospi- 
ed Fin rose and followed him, and when they met tuls were founded in Loudon, as in most other 
he was challenged to fight. But the wily Irish cities.— The Builder. 
giant desired him first to perform some feats of -- 
skill ho would show him, and stooping drew a Tub flying clouds, the evanescent vapor, the 
mark with liis finger on the face of the cliff sev- arrow just propelled from the string, the wintry 
end feet below tho top. When Benondeman in grass, the flower whose beauty scarcely blooms ere 
turn stooped over, Fin pushed him oil, aud he it is faded, aud whose fragrance is scarcely per- 
tumbled to the bottom aud was killed.” ceptiblo ere it is gone — are apt similitudes of the 
The columns are constantly being carried away, life of man.— Dr. Spring. 
THE SABBATH. 
BT MRS. KLLKN KAY BLUNT. 
Cebator f God I Almighty King ! 
Enthroned in light beyond the sky I 
What can the earth for tribute bring 
To glorify thy Majesty ? 
Her treasures are bat moth and rust; 
Her incense dies — her gold is dust. 
We stop the countless pulse of time ; 
The mighty breath of earth we stay— 
We stand in rest before Thy shrine, 
We offer Thee thy Sabbath day! 
Uncrowned h«r kings before Thoe bow ; 
In silence Nature hails thee now 1 
And Thou ! as chime and chant arise, 
Marking the holy time for Thee, 
Thou dost receive it in the skies. 
And raaknst it Eternity! 
Oh, hasten, Lord, that Sabbath day 
Whose light shall never fado away I 
-- 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
NOTHING SHALL SEPARATE US FROM CHRIST. 
There are few truths that furnish a greater num¬ 
ber of daily illustrations, than that which declares 
the indissoluble union between Christ' and the 
Christian. How often have we seen the Christian 
man of business gradually becoming remiss in the 
performance of Christian duties, and finally giving 
up all his time and thought to the accumulation of 
wealth. Suddenly some great calamity overtakes 
him, and while prostrate in the dust, covered with 
humility, a low sweet voice whispers in his ear, 
nothing shall separate us from Christ 
We have heard the fond mother, as she pressed 
her beloved ehild to her bosom, exclaim, with all 
the fondness of a mother’s love, how can I live 
without ikee, my own sweet child! Our eyes were 
turned but a moment; but when we looked again, 
the mother waa kneeling at the cold white slab be¬ 
fore a new-made grave—while a voice from be¬ 
neath the sod seemed to say, nothing shall separate 
us from Christ 
We have seen a young man fulLof hope, and 
strong in will, buckle on the armor, and march 
boldly out upon life's broad battle-field; but ere 
the sun had once kissed the western hills, be lay 
stretched upon the green turf beside his armor; 
C.2ESAR, DU CORNET. and while we gazed upon bis prostrate form, we 
_ learned the lesson God would teach, nothing shall 
On the 6th of January, 1806, in one of the hum- ed the Academie Rovale, and waa soon afterwards separate us from Christ. He who lies so low, 
blest houses of the Rue St. Jacques, at Lille, an admitted into the studio of a distinguished artist ot power, and soughthis men glory, 
infant was born so sadly deformed that they tried In 1826, six months after his entrance into the -pother, have seen ’ re J 01 ^ n g 111 t he comple- 
to hide him from his mother. While the father Academy, he obtained the third medal, and in the ted <J»ngth and grace of manhood, whom no toils 
wept the neighbors looked upon the little stranger following year the second. In the year 1823, he <l ouId weary » “^staclea overcome, no sorrows 
with something like fear, and said to themselves, appeared among the crowd of competitors for the depress, no calamities dishearten,no human power 
"it would be a happy thing if he should die.”- grand prize at Rome. He here received no prize, ***** hl3 ° flward 
Butthe infant did not die, and as the mother de- because the professors pronounced it physically I Le falter3 111 bis ra P ld gurney rags; his 
manded him with an importunity not to be resist- impossible for him to paint a picture of the re- | ^ and wa y*™ rn J hl9 f en ^ k 
ed, he was placed in her arms and received the quired ^ (4 * by 3* feet,) and struck his name off j faila ^ the ffhm leaving hl9 b°aes; his eyes 
first maternal kiss from her whose languid eyes the list. The circumstance, so far from discoura- are sunken, and look languidly out from the.r Lol- 
failed to show her the sad reality. ging the y011u g artist, gave him new courage, and ow homes: the heart sends the blood lazily through 
Some days afterwards the bootmaker Dccornkt bis first picture was painted exactly of that size ^ he thll \ vel&s ' h f. torm ’ we f k and attenuated, is 
and his youngwife stood with gloomy faces beside which the professors had declared him unable to be “ tWs lf la worship of the dust to which his is so 
the cradle of a child bornithout arms, and whose compass. This picture is the Farewell of Hector fast hastemag ’ aad he hes down by l ‘ e w , ay ® ld ® 
lower extremities were liitle else than trunks ter- and Andromache, now in the Maseum of Lille. ^ asK ’ Wtl 7 b ' lla lj ° d 
minuted by feet, having .Ally four toes to each.— Tn -.ooq Rovale dealt 111111 t1m3 ' Astd1 ’ 3maU V0lce > answers, 
"No matter,” the mothc-r exclaimed; “ I love him,” ‘ J*!? ® r , be g^ried in his health and strength, and gave not 
and raising the infant from the cradle, she pressed w ' tbdrew Jl^r rejection ot hra na , ' God the praise, and lo his health and strength have 
him tightly against her breast. « And 1 too,” her * ET e * Necmed the proposed su iject aco refits g both failed him . for Jl0(hmg 8haU 8epura te U s from 
v . . ., , , , • to deliver the young Benjamin to his brothers .— phrist a . „ 
husband said: -at least the unhappy child shall The painti wus admitt ed to have merited the Roch „ gter JiD lS57 
motlfe" ” S Wtthout a fatht ‘ r and second prize; but, strange to say, the ungenerous teste r, ^ ^ 
m Such was the entrance into life of C^sar Du- s P; rits , who were thenat the bead f ° f the Academy What we owe to CnRiSTiANiTY.-The late emi- 
_, 1 retused t0 erown a painter without arms. npn , Rit .. . T n(W Sir Allon Parlr 
first maternal kiss from her whose languid eyes 
failed to show her the sad reality. 
Some days afterwards the bootmaker Ducornkt 
and his youngwife stood with gloomy faces beside 
the cradle of a child born without arms, and whose 
lower extremities were liitle else than trunks ter¬ 
minated by feet, having .Ally four toes to each.— 
“ No matter,” the mothc-r exclaimed; “ I love him,” 
aud raising the infant from the cradle, she pressed 
him tightly against her breast. " And 1 too,” her 
husband said; -at least the unhappy child shall 
not go through the world without a father and 
mother.” 
Such was the entrance into life of C-esar Dv- 
cornet, historical painter, laureate of the academ¬ 
ical schools, recipient of the gold medal of the 
exhibitions at the Louvre, and corresponding 
member of the Imperial Society of Agriculture, 
Science, and Art, of Lille. 
The early childhood of Dccoknet was not un- 
happy, for infants do not know themselves. Be¬ 
sides, be had such an agreeable face, such a quick 
and precocious intelligence of expression, and so 
much odd dexterity about his movements, that 
everyone regarded him with sympathy, and good 
hearted people even thought him handsome.— 
Meanwhile the child grew up, and it became neces¬ 
sary to choose an occupation for him. It had been 
) remarked that when joining in the games of his 
I companions, his misfortune did not exclude him 
from the sports of his age. He learnt to use his 
I feet for nearly every purpose for which other per- 
I sons use their bauds, and with an equal facility 
and freedom. He nsed them to throw the ball to 
his companions, to hold a pen, to cut figures with 
a pair of scissors, and in other ways equally mar- 
j vellous. One day the boy surprised his parents by 
tracing on a piece of paper a number of ornamen- 
I tal letters admirably executed. An old man, a 
teacher of writing, who happened to be present, 
offered to give the boy some lessons gratuitously. 
Such was the ability he displayed, that in less than 
a year he was at the head of the writing-master’s 
class. Strange as such ability undoubtedly was, 
there was something still more strange to follow. 
I The new pupil show ed bis skill not only in writing, 
but in draw ings aud origiu d designs, which were 
executed with equ.d ability. The benevolent 
writing-master showed these productions to M. 
Watteau, professor of drawing at the academical 
schools of Lille, who, iu his turn, was seized with 
admiration at the wonderful aptitude shown by 
this strange artist, aud caused him to be admitted 
into the academy. 
low homes: the heart sends the blood lazily through 
the thin veins; his form, weak and attenuated, is 
bent as if in worship of the dust to which his is so 
fast hastening, and he lies down by t.;e wayside to 
die. In our presumption we ask, why Lath God 
| dealt with him thus? A still, small voice, answers, 
I he gloried in his health and strength, and gave not 
God the praise, and lo his beahh and strength have 
both failed him; for nothing shall separate us from 
Chri3t. 3 . a. e. 
Rochester, Jan., 1S57. 
* ru v uu w ere uc “ u — -J What we owe to CHRiSTiANiTY.-The late emi- 
tused to crown a painter without arms. | nent EngUsh Judge) Sir James ^ Parkj oace 
The next work of his pencil was a P^rag j ^ at a public meeting.- 
known as the Slave Merchants, which is now in the 
Museum of Arras. During the first few years 
which followed the Revolution of 1830, Ducorxet 
obtained orders from the government for some of 
those portraits of the king which were distributed 
by hundreds among the municipal bodies of the I 
country. At this moment, when the young painter 
was toiling in a way which he must have consid¬ 
ered unworthy of him, for the support of his lather 
and himself, the State suppressed his pension of 
1,200 francs, aud at the same time the town of Lille 
withdrew from him its modest grant of 300 francs. 
Misfortunes now appeared to fail thickly on him, 
but his courage never failed, and he made up for 
his losses by working twice as hard as before. 
Thirty years of constant labor had not sufficed 
to place Bucornet in a position of ease. He lived i 
in the midst of privations, but still he struggled 
courageously on. At length he was seized with a 
stroke of paralysis, and on the 27th of April, 1336, 
he expired. 
-♦ - 
JEFFERSON. 
In the year 1825, J. I’. Kennedy visited Monti- 
cello. “ I was acc ompanied,” says he, “ by a friend, 
and a letter of introduction from Mr. Wirt. I had 
never seen Ylr. Jelierson. It was a hot day in July 
when we reached the top of the mountain and 
entered the spacious hall of the mansion. We pre¬ 
sented the letter to a lady of the family. Mr. Jef¬ 
ferson had been very ill with a recent attack of his 
malady, aud therefore excused hiiuself from re¬ 
ceiving company. There was a large glass door 
which opened upon the hall, and separated Mr. Jef¬ 
ferson's apartment from it. Whilst we sat in this 
hall, a tail attenuated figure, slightly stooping for¬ 
ward, and exhibiting a countenance filled with an 
“We live in the midst of blessings till we are ut¬ 
terly insensible of their greatness, and the source 
froinwhence theyfiow; we speak of our civilization, 
our arts, our freedom, our laws, and forget entirely 
how large a share is due to Christianity. Blot 
Christianity out of man's history, and what would 
his laws have been, what his civilization? Chris¬ 
tianity is mixed up with our very being and our 
very life. There is not a familiar object around 
you which does not wear a different aspect, be¬ 
cause the light ot Christian love is on it — not a 
law which does not owe its truth and gentleness to 
Christianity— not a custom which cannot be 
traced, in all its holy and healthful parts, to the 
GospeL” 
-♦—*"- 
The Pure SrmiT. — The springs of everlasting 
life are within. There are clear streams gushing 
up from the depths of the soul, nnd flowing oat to 
enliven the sphere of outward existence. But 
like the waters of Siloab, they “ go softly.” You 
must listen to catch the silvery tones of the little 
rill as it glides along. Y’ou may not witness its 
| silent march; but its course will be seen in the 
j fresh verdure and the opening flowers—its pres¬ 
ence will be known by forms of life and beauty 
that gather around it. It is thus with the pure 
spirit. Y'ou may not hear its “still small voice,” 
or heed its silent aspirations, but it bus amoral 
strength and a holy iimueuce that is feit by all 
arouutL The wilderness is made to smile iu its 
presence, and (lowers of new life aud beauty spring 
| up aud flourish forever, 
-►- 
Motives to Holiness.—A man who has been 
I redeemed by the blood of the Son of God should 
be pure. He who is an heir of life should be holy, 
i He who is attended by celestial beings, and who is 
At the Academy, C.esar Ducorxet carried off expression of pain, slowly walked across the space 8 oou—he knows not how soon—to be translated to 
all the prizes one after another; and at length re¬ 
ceived the great medul for modeling from the life. 
This victory proved a most fortunate occurrence 
for Ducornkt, as it procured him a protector in 
tho person of M. DemaUly, a gentleman of wealth. 
Soon after Ducornkt had found a protector, the 
Duke of Angouleme, who was visiting the museum 
at Lille, saw the young artist engaged in copying 
a painting by Vandyke. Astonished at the sight 
of such a strange being, executing a most difficult 
work of art, the prince conceived a considerable 
degree of' interest iu him, presented him with a 
pension of 1,200 francs, and persuaded him to con¬ 
tinue his studies in Paris. Previous to this the 
people of Lille had subscribed a sum equal to a 
pension of 300 francs for Ducornkt. 
Our artist uow started in high spirits for the 
capital, and to complete his happiness, the benev¬ 
olent M. Demailly followed him there. lie enter- 
visible through the glass door, it was Mr. Jeffer¬ 
son. He was draped in a costume long out of 
fashion—small clothes, a waistcoat with flaps, and 
as it struck us, in the brief view we had, some I 
remnants of embroidery. The silence of the foot¬ 
fall, the venerable figure, the old costume, and the | 
short space in which that image glided past the 
glass door, made a strange Impression upon us. Ii 
was all that 1 ever saw of the sage of Mouticello.” 
A man may edify another by his gifts, and yet I 
bt unedified himself; he may be profitable to an¬ 
other, and yet unprofitable to himself. The raven 
was an unclean bird, aud not good meat, but God i 
could make her the bearer of good meatto Elijah. I 
- ♦.» - 
Men often mistake notoriety for fame, and would I 
heaven, should be holy'. Are the angels my at¬ 
tendants? Then l should walk worthy of their 
companionship. Am I soon to go and dwell with 
angels? Then I should be pure. Are these feet 
soon to tread the court of heaveu? Is this tongue 
soon to unite with heavenly beings in praising 
God? Are these eyes of mine soon to look ou the 
ascended Redeemer? Then these feet, ami eyes, 
and tips should be pure aud holy; and I should be 
dead to the world and live for heaven .—Albert 
Barnes. 
-■*—-*■- 
We are apt to mistake our vocation in looking 
out of the way for occasions to exercise great aud 
rare virtues, and stepping over ordinary oues 
which lie directly iu the road before us. Wheu we 
read, we fancy we could be martyrs; when we 
rather be remarked for their vices and follies than come to the act, we find we cannot, bear a provo- 
not to be noticed at all. 
king word ,—Hannah More. 
