......... M,.. 
MOORE’S,; RURAL NEW-YORKER 
AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
determination heightening the faint color in her 
cheeks, and bringing back the sparkle to her blue 
eyes. 
“I’ll take the omnibus and go right down to the 
office, and made up with him; see if I don’t” 
The young merchant was leaning, with a weary 
half dejected sort of expression, over his desk, 
about which were scattered bills, drafts and letters 
in endless confusion. Something bad gone wrong. 
His clerks knew this when he came into his store 
that morning, so gloomy and reticent, so thorough¬ 
ly unlike his nsual brisk, energetic, jovial manners 
that, always carried sunshine into the dark ware- 
rooms. Even the porter felt something of this, 
for he stood at a respectful distance from his em¬ 
ployer, and didu’t indulge in any of his stale jokes. 
Suddenly the merchant looked up. and saw his 
wife making her way through the store, straightto 
his desk. How pretty she looked that morning, in 
the little, tasteful velvet hat, with its crimson trim¬ 
mings about her soft cheeks that were so charm¬ 
ingly becoming, and that half smile dimnlim? the 
of national character. The whole history of a 
race may be found in the dictionary of its lan¬ 
guage. Words and phrases are the offspring of 
previously existing objects, thoughts and circum¬ 
stances, and their paternity is readily traced. 
Thus, among all savage and warlike people, the 
common salutation conveys a wish or a prayer, 
that the person saluted may enjoy peace, the 
greatest good of individuals and of nations, and 
the boon most frequently withheld in that phase 
of life. Throughout the Bible this is the invaria¬ 
ble blessing—shalum! and the wandering Be¬ 
douins of the Desert liave, to this day, the same 
form of salutation. Another phrase of theirs, “If 
Gorl will thou art well,” betrays the fatalism of 
Islam. 
“ Peace he unto thee,” says the fluent and facile 
Persian; “I make prayers for thy greatness; may 
tby shadow never he less!” This last form smacks 
of summer and South. Such a salutation would 
make a Northman shiver. It shows, too, a great 
respect for fat — for a dignified, aldcrmanic 
rotundity. 
The Greeks, a joyful people, full of the vigor of 
a life of action, expressed their salutation in a sin¬ 
gle word—“ Rejoice.” 
The commercial and enterprising Genoese of the 
middle ages, used to say, Banetata guedagno — 
“Health and gain,”—than which no phrase could 
be more characteristic. 
In a similar spirit, the “swaggering Hollander” 
salutes you with Hoe varat'g'gt 7 “ How fare you ?” 
The easy phlegmatic German says, Lebrn tie 
\cahl ?—“Live thou well,” 
Tho Frenchman’s Comment vous portez vouzf — 
“IIow do you carry yourself?” — reveals the very 
soul of the French character, flow is the formu¬ 
lary, and not what. A nd then the portez vouz, how 
well it expresses the eager restlessness and viva¬ 
cious manners of that nation. Comment cn va-t 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SNOW. 
WE ARE ALL GLEANERS. 
nr cassel. 
Merrily fall the snow-flakes, 
Sporting joyous o’er the lea; 
Cheerily round the hill-tops, 
Bounding, chasing wild and free, 
Drearily to the homeless. 
Bringing life and joy to me. 
Far o’er the meadow spreading, 
Soft and fair a mantle white, 
Sportively, coyly treading. 
Driving hence the mists of night; 
Down came the snow-flakes, falling 
From the stonu-cloud’sgloomy height. 
Through the dim, dreary moonlight, 
Casting round its ghastly glare, 
O'er the bleak plains and hillocks, 
Struggled on a child as fair 
As the rose, red and radiant. 
Blooming in the springtide air. 
Joyously, when gay flowers 
Opening spring began to bear, 
Cheerfully, with her comrades 
Sang the Muy-Queon free from care, 
Coronets of snow, not flowers 
It behooves her now to wear. 
Midst the sleet, and ice, and storm, 
Many a weary rood she trod; 
Tired at length, chill nnd worn, 
She pressed her bosom to the sod, 
Sauk down in the snow and praying, 
Yielded up herself to God, 
The white flakes sparkled brightly. 
As a traveler chanced that way, 
Tho shroud of snow lay lightly 
On the lifeless Queen of May, 
Her soul all pure and peerless, 
Here no longer deigned to stay. 
South Bainbridge, N. Y., Jan., 1857. 
Rkapkr I—thou and l are gleaners, 
In the harvest fields of time ; 
Day by day the grain is reaping, 
For a suhniercliine. 
Whether in the early morning. 
Going forth with busy feet, 
Or, as weary laborers, resting 
'Mid the noon-day heat; 
Let us strive with cheerful spirit, 
Each our duties to fulfil, 
Till the time ot harvest—subject 
To the master’s will. 
Let us garner up sweet memories, 
Bound with ties of loTe ; 
Pleasant thoughts to cheer the pathway 
To our home above, 
Trusting that these precious gleanings, 
Bound with loving hand, 
May in golden sheaves be gathered 
To the Spirit land. 
anu oi me evident admiration which her occasion¬ 
al advent at the store always excited. He rose up 
to meet her. the surprise in his face half chasing 
the cloud therefrom. She came dose to him. 
“ Harry,” whispered tho soft, timid, eager voice, 
“ I’m so very sorry 1 said those cross things to you 
this morning; I was greatly to blame, and they’ve 
made me unhappy ever since, so I’ve come way 
down here to make up, and hear you say ouce more 
that you love me.” 
The cloud was all gone. There was a world of 
fond tenderness that looked down from those dark 
eyes on the lady. 
“Why, bless your little heart, Adeline, you 
haven’t come clear off here for that! I was more 
to blame than you a great deal, but some business 
matters were troubling me, and then I’m a touchy 
fellow, I guess, anyhow.” 
“No you’re not; but I shouldn’t have lived 
through the day, if I had felt all the time that you 
were displeased with me. Cut do you love me just 
as well as ever?” 
That smile, that glance would hav 
For Moore's Rnral New-Yorker. 
LITTLE MOLLIE. 
returned it. If he had paused here, history n ight 
have doubted what station to assign him, whether 
at the head of her citizens, or her soldiers, her 
heroes, or her patriots. But the last glorious act 
crowns his career and bauishes all hesitation.— 
Who, like Washington, after having emancipated 
a hemisphere resigned its crown, and preferred the 
retirement of domestic life, to the adoration of a 
land he might he almost said to have created. 
“How shall we rauk thee upon glories page, 
Thou more than soldier, and just lass than sage, 
All thou han't been reflects less fame on thee, 
Far less than nLl thou has t forborne to bo." 
Such is the testimony of one not to be accused 
of partiality, in his estimation of America. “Hap¬ 
py proud America.the ligbtuingsof heavenyielded 
to your philosophy, the temptations of earth could 
not seduce your patriotism.” Loretta. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
A VISIT TO MOUNT VERNON. 
a chilly northern atmosphere, your sight greeted 
by snow-clad hills, frozen streams, and brave old 
forests, groaning beneath a wintry load. If so, I 
will strive to stir op, a glow of genial warmth, by 
picturing balmy airs, and verdent Helds. Follow 
me if yon please, back to a bright May day in a 
southern clime, when the earth was decked, in all 
the budding beauty of the early spring. 
The morning dawned auspiciously upon us, and 
with an agreeable little party, T set out to visit 
Mount Vernon, the “Mecca of America.” The 
storm of the previous night “had new baptized 
the earth, with her joyful weeping.” The pearly 
drops, hung sparkling from every shrub, and tree. 
The clear, fresh air came laden with delicious 
odors of wild flowers, and song of the merry 
mocking bird. These scenes, and the associations 
connected therewith, so beguiled us that ere we 
were aware, the ten miles intervening between 
Alexandria and our place of destination were pasa- 
e satisfied any 
wife. 
“That wife of mine’s a little angel anyhow,” 
murmured Harry Leeds to himself, as he arranged 
his disordered desk, with a face as changed and 
bright as the sky outside, for the sun had suddenly 
plunged through the clouds. “If we have pretty 
good sales this week, I’ll just get her that carpet 
for a Christmas present, see if I don’t.”— Arthur's 
Home Magazine. 
THE WORLD WAS MADE FOR ALL 
In looking at our 
age, I atji struck immediately 
with one commanding characteristic; and that is, 
the tendency of all its movements to expansion,to 
diffusion, to universality. To this I ask your atten¬ 
tion. This tendency is directly opposed to the 
exclnseveness, restriction, narrowness, monopoly, 
which has prevailed in past ages. Human action 
is now freer, more nnconlined. All goods, advan¬ 
tages, helps are more open to all. The privileged, 
petted individual, is becoming less, and the human 
race are becoming more. The multitude is rising 
front the dust. Once we heard of a few, not of the 
many; once of the perogatives of a part, now of 
the rights of all. We are looking, as never before, 
through the disguised developments of ranks and 
classes, to the common nature which is below them; 
and are beginning to learn that every being who 
partakes of it has noble powers to cultivate, solemn 
duties to perform, inalienable rights to assert, a 
vast destiny to accomplish. The grand idea of 
humanity, of the importance of man as man, is 
spreading silently but surely. Not that the worth 
of the hiitnau being is at ail understood as it should 
be; the truth is glimmering through the darkness. 
A faint consciousness of it has seized on the pub¬ 
lic mind. Even the most abject pori ions of society 
are visited by some dreams of a better condition, 
for which they were designed. The graud doctrine 
ihut every human being should have the means of 
self-culture, of progress in knowledge and virtue, 
of health, comfort and happiness, of exercising 
the powers and affections of a. man; tin's is slowly 
Liking its place, as the highest social truth. That 
the world was made for all; that the great end of 
government is to spread a shield over the rights of 
all—these propositions are growing into axioms, 
and the spirit of them is coming forth in all the 
departments of life.— I)r. Charming. 
WOMAN AND MARRIAGE 
I have seen a young aud beautiful woman, the 
pride of gay circles, married, ns the world says, 
well. Some have moved into costly houses, and 
their friends have all coroe and looked at their 
furniture and their splendid arrangements for hap¬ 
piness, and they have gone away and committed 
them to their sunny hopes cheerfully and without 
fear. It. is natural to be sanguine for them; as the 
young are sometimes carried away by similar feel¬ 
ings. 1 love to get, unobserved, into a cornel; and 
watch the bride in her white attire, and with her 
smiling face and her soft eyes meeting me in their 
pride of life, weave a dream of fnture happiness, 
and persuade myself it will lie true. 1 think how 
they will sit upon the luxurious sofa as the twi¬ 
light falls, and build gay hopes, ami murmur in low 
tones the now not forbidden tenderness; and how 
thrillingly the hallowed kiss and beautiful endear¬ 
ments of wedded life will make even tbeir parting 
joyous, nnd how gladly come back from the crowd¬ 
ed and the empty mirth of the gay to each other’s 
quiet company 
PUNCTUALITY 
i ney are not irregular, mey are never too soon. 
Their letters are posted the very minute after the 
mail is shut; they arrive at the wharf just in time 
to see the steamboat off; they come in sight of the 
depot precisely when the train starts. They do not 
break any engagements, nor neglect any duty; but 
they systematically go about it too late, and usually 
too late by about the same fatal interval. How 
can they retrieve the lost fragment, so essential to 
character and comfort? Perhaps like this; sup¬ 
pose that on some auspicious morning they con¬ 
trived to rise a quarter of an hour before their 
usual time, and were ready for their morning wor¬ 
ship fifteen minutes sooner than they have been 
for the last ten years; or, what will equally answer 
the end, suppose that for once they omitted their 
morning meal altogether, and went straight out to 
the engagements of the day; suppose that they 
arrive at the class-room, or the work shop, or the 
place of business, fifteen minutes before their usual 
time, or that they forced themselves to the ap¬ 
pointed rendezvous on the week-day, or to the 
sanctuary on the Sabbath-day, a quarter of an hour 
before their instinctive time of going — all would 
yet be well. This system, curried out, would bring 
Die world and themselves to synchronize; they 
and the marching hours would come to keep step 
again, and moving on in harmony, lliey would 
escape Die jolting, fatigue and awkwardness they 
used to feel, when old Father Time put the right 
foot foremost, and they advanced the left; their 
reputation would lie retrieved, and friends, who at 
present fret, would begiu to smile; their fortunes 
would he made; their satisfaction in their work 
would be doubled; and their influence over others, 
and their power for usefulness would be unspeak¬ 
ably augmented.— Life in Earnest. 
I picture lo myself that young 
creature who blushes even now iu this hesitating 
course, listening eagerly for his footsteps as the 
night steals on, and wishing that he would come, 
aud when he enters at last, and with an affection as 
undying as his pulse, folds her to his bosom, f can 
feel the tide that goes flowing through the heart, 
aud gaze with him on the graceful form as she 
moves about for Die kind offices of affection, sooth¬ 
ing all bis unquiet cares, and making him forget 
even himself in her young and unsha ded beauty. 1 
go forward years, and see her luxuriant hair put 
soberly away from herbrow, and her girlish graces 
resigned into dignity, nnd loveliness chastened 
with the gentle meekness of maternal affection.— 
Her husband looks on her with a proud eye, and 
shows her the same fervent love and delicate atten¬ 
tions which first won her; and tlieir fair children 
are grown about them, and they go on full of honor 
and untroubled years, and are remembered when 
they die.— Washington Irving, 
The Human Face. — The Rev. Orville Dewey 
in one of his lectures on the Problem of Human 
Destiny, remarks:—“The expression of the face is 
a beautiful distinction of humanity. We are little 
aware of the intluenoe which it constantly exerts. 
If the dumb animal, on whom man exerts his 
cruelty, if the horse or dog, when suffering by a 
blow from the violence of man, could turn upon 
him with a look ot indignation or appeal, oould 
anyone resist, the power of mute expostulation?— 
Dow extraordinary, too, the difference of expres¬ 
sion in the human face, by which the recognition 
of personal identity is secured. On this smallsur- 
faco, nine inches by six, are depicted such various 
traits, that among the millions of inhabitants of 
the earth, no two have the same lineaments of the 
face. What dire confusion would ensue if all 
countenances were alike; if fathers did not know 
their own children by sight, nor hushandfl their 
wives! But now we could pick ont our friends 
from among the multitudes of Die universe.” 
“ I wish I hadn’t said it! Dearme! what.would 
I give if I could only recall it,” murmured Mrs. 
Leeds, as she leaned her face down on the arm she 
had rested on the breakfast table, while the thick- 
tears sobbed up into her blue eyes. 
She was a pretty little woman, the wife of a year, 
Utough the tears dimmed her face, and the trouble 
at her heart shut off the roses from her cheeks, 
that cheerless November morning, with the dull 
brownish clouds piled low about the sky, and the 
hoarse wind cracking and crumping through the 
trees outside. 
“ To think, too,” continued the lady, raising her 
head once more, and abstractedly lifting the cover 
of the china tea-pot; “he should have spoken so 
Life, says Hannah More, is not entirely made up 
of great evils or heavy triala; but tho perpetual 
recurrence of petty evils and small trials is the 
ordinary and appointed exercise of the Christian 
graces. To bear with the failings of those about 
us —with their infirmities, tbeir had judgment, 
their ili-breeding, their perverse tempers — to en¬ 
dure neglect when we feel we deserve attention, 
and ingratitude when we expected thanks—to bear 
with the company of disagreeable people whom 
Providence has placed in our way, aud whom He 
has perhaps provided or purposed for the trial of 
our virtue — these are the best exercises of pa¬ 
tience or self-denial, and the better because not 
chosen by ourselves. To bear with vexatious in 
business, with interruptions of our retirement, with 
folly, intrusion, disturbance, in short, with what¬ 
ever opposes our will, contradicts our humor—this 
habitnal acquiescence appears to he more of the 
essence of self-denial than any little rigors of our 
own imposing. These constant, inevitable, hut in¬ 
ferior evils, properly improved, furnish a good 
moral discipline, and might in the days of igno¬ 
rance, have superseded pilgrimage and 
to the water’s edge, A few hoary-headed old trees, 
are guarding the house, like faithful sentinels.— 
From the openings one has a most enchanting view 
“ Of watery landscape, and of pendant woods, 
And distant trees, that tremble iu the floods; 
In the clear azure stream, the flocks are seen, 
And Acting forests, paint tho wave with green." 
Passing below the house a few hundred yards 
we came to the tomb of Washington. It 1 b a plnin 
brick vault, situated just in tho edge of the wild 
old woods. It is altogether an unpretendiug 
structure, partly covered by trailing wild vines, 
nnd cedar, and has no enclosure about it. Through 
the iron grated door of the vault, you see a marble 
sarcophagus wherein moulder the remains of him, 
whose heart once beat, with truest patriotism, aud 
loftiest courage, The purest principles of moral¬ 
ity nerved it, all Christian graces adorned it.— 
Amid all his honors, he walked in humility, and 
died in triumphant faith. He to whom under 
God we owe our freedom and our greatness, thus 
obscurely reposes. Of Washington l will attempt, 
no encomiums of my own, but, with your permis¬ 
sion,w 
TALENT AND GENIUS. 
Talent convinces—genius but excites ; 
This tasks the reason—that the soul delights. 
Talent from sober judgineDt takes its birth, 
And reconciles the pinion to the earth ; 
Genius unsettles with desires the mind, 
Contented not till earth be left behind ; 
Talent, the sunshine, ou a cultured soil, 
Ripens the fruit by stow decrees for toil. 
Genius, the sudden Iris of the skies, 
On cloud itself reflects its wondrous dyes ; 
And, to the earth, in tears aud glory given, 
Cl isps in it* airy arch the pomp of Heaven I 
Talent gives all that vulgar orities need— 
From its plain horn hook learn the dull to read : 
Genius, the Pythian of the beautiful, 
Leaves Us large truths a riddle to the dull— 
From eyes profane u veil the Isis screens, 
And fools ou fools still ask “ What Hamlet means?" 
[ lluliecr. 
Is Virtue Hereditary? — Is a love of truth, 
justice, and goodness transmitted from parents to 
children? Facts appear to answer these questions 
in the affirmative. In England, it has been ascer¬ 
tained that out of one hundred criminal children, 
sixty were born of dishonest parents; thirty of 
parents who were profligate, but not criminal, and 
only ten of parents who were honest and indus¬ 
trious. The rule is, virtuous parents raise virtu¬ 
ous children. Not more than oue out of every ten 
criminals has been born of honest, religious pa¬ 
rents. The characters of parents and children are 
nearly ns much alike as their features. 
penance, 
The Smile of Love. —Holy and beautiful in¬ 
deed is the smile of fathomless and perfect love! 
Too seldom does it live; too seldom lighten heavy 
cares and earthly sorrows. Too seldom does it 
gladden burdened hearts, and give refreshing dews 
to thirsty souls. Too seldom, indeed, does it have 
a birth; too often does it soon leave life’s pathway, 
even if fairly born and dearly welcomed there. 
ill add the eloquent and soul-stirriug eulogy 
pronounced by Phillips, the Irish orator, at a din¬ 
ner given on Dinas Island. 
“It is the custom of your board, and a noble one 
it is, to deck the oqp of the gay, with the garland 
of the great, and Barely, even in the eyes of its 
deity, his grape is not the less lovely when glow- 
If man could see 
The perils and diseases that he elbows 
Each day ho walks a mile, which catch at him, 
Which fall behind and grate him as he passes, 
Then he would know that Life's a single pilgrim, 
Fighting unarmed amongst a thousand soldiers. 
By constant temperance, habitual moderate ex¬ 
ercise, unaffected modesty, you will avoid the fees 
of the lawyer, the claws of tho sheriff, and the 
poison of the doctor; and probably add to your 
present existence at least ten years of active life. 
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