'GU.M.H.HWH 'I.O.P.Ul,■<.«.».«„».. XX-X-UM.M,/■><■>,«■><.<■>, ...MO'U’W'M V.Uk.M.'trf* 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
I regard it. as flip fundamental principle of all 
virt uous and religions education— as i he basis of 
every good and true ftfibction of the soul. Secure 
this one point and every admonition and every 
instruction that you give will have its due weight, 
and exert, the influence you desire upon the future 
character of the man. 
Verily, self-esteem is a happy gift, and Burns 
must have been insane when he wished for the 
power of seeing “oursePs as ithers see us,” as 
such a privilege could add but little to our com 
fort Or happiness. Mokjj Anon. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LINES 
Apiiressed to a rill that had its rise In a snow-bank near 
the author's home, and which, during the recent thaw, 
ran past the door, ceasing when the snow failed. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
FRIENDSHIP. 
But without this principle 
you can perform hut an imperfect and uncertain 
work—you have no assurance that your good in¬ 
tentions are appreciated — that your instructions 
will ever produce the fruits of virtue — that your 
child will be an ornament to society and a blessing 
to yourself, when the lapse of years shall have 
wrapped the mantle of infirmity around your body 
and it shall be gathered to the tomb. Iu fact, you 
are but rearing a structure upon the sand which 
the first adverse wind will prostrate in the dust.— 
In most cases wh«u waywardness and disobedience 
are leading trails in the character of a child, the 
infiaence of religious instruction is but transitory. 
He may rea d the Bible, attend Church and Sabbath 
School, have all tbo advantages that religious 
parents can procure for him, yet the influence of 
all the instruct! ns thus obtained will evaporate 
from the mind like the early dew before the rays 
of the morning sun. The fire of impure love will 
consume them, aud leave the mind a prey to every 
unhallowed lust of its perverse nature. Permit 
me, therefore, to entreat you earnestly, by the love 
you have for your offspring', the regard you have 
for your own peace and happiness, and the affec¬ 
tion for the cause of virtue, to lie unceasing in 
your efforts to establish the principles of truth 
and obedience iu the minds of your children.— 
The instructions given to our children are not 
only for the present moment 
The coffin was a plain one — a poor, miserable 
pine coffin. No flowers on its top, no lining of 
rose-white satin for the pale brow; no smooth rib¬ 
bons for the coarse shroud. The brown hair was 
laid decently back, but there was no crimped cap 
with its neat tie beneath the chin. The sufferer 
from cruel poverty smiled in her sleep; she had 
found bread, rest aud health. 
“I want to see my mother,” sobbed a poor child, 
as the city undertaker screwed down the top. 
“Only lot, mo see her one minute,” cried the 
hapless, hopeless orphan, clutching the side of the 
charity box; and as lie gazed into that rough face, 
auguished tears streamed rapidly down the cheek 
on which no childish bloom ever lingered. 0! it 
wus pitiful to hear him cry, “Only once; let me see 
my mother only once!” 
Quickly and brutally the hard-hearted monster 
struck the hoy away, so that he reeled with the 
blow. For a moment the boy stood panting with 
grief and rage; his blue eyes distended, bis lips 
sprung apart, a lire glittered through.his tears, as 
ho raised his puny arm, and with a most unchild- 
isb accent, screamed, “When I am a maD, Pll kill 
you for that.” 
“There was a coffin and a heap of earth,” be¬ 
tween the mother and the poor forsaken child, and 
a monument stronger than granite built in his boy- 
heart to the memory of a heartless deed. 
BT AMELIA. 
Flow on, thou charming brook : 1st fancy run, 
And tend beside tliw in tby winding race ; 
Those laughing dimples sparkling on thy face, 
Betoken that thy journey’s just began ; 
And there is tinkling music on the crest 
Of tiny ripples dancing Irom thy shore ; 
There Heels of leaves aud chips, with fitting store, 
Float on, or lie becalmed upon thy breast. 
With care 1 traced for thee a channel meet 
For fairy's walk ; for long the way will be 
That thou hast undertaken to the sea, . 
To lave with thy pure wave old Oman's feet; 
Thence glide along, sweet stream, ere snow and frost, 
Returning, dispossess thee of thy bed, 
Aud seal the fountain's Ups, the freshet fed ; 
Its good, like mine, perhaps, too quickly lost. 
I would not bid thee tarry longer here, 
Though hard with thy loved prattle to dispense ; 
It so recalls the time in innocence 
I spent, like thee, uuconseious of a caie. 
Go thrill with gladness other hearts than mine, 
By hearing to their view some boon of good. 
I'll little moralize, though ta the mood, 
But trust in Got) to 8hapu my course, aud thine. 
Ah, such was I in life's young happy morn, 
Rejoicing in the venial soen s of youth, 
lire! had learned, as now, the bitter truth. 
Life's best estate is wretched and forlorn, 
Unsanelilied by grace. Hope fled away, 
And earthly friends were worthless of my trust; 
Affeation's idols, crumbling into dust. 
Left me, the sport of fortune's cruel ptay. 
fully, Onondaga Co., S. Y., Feb., 1S67. A. B. P. 
How few there are iu this strange world 
In whom we may confide, 
How few who sail on life's broad stream 
But change with every tide. 
I’ve often thought some friend was mine 
To love mp e'en in weal or woe. 
When hut an idle word has made 
That friend a bitter foe. 
1 have no confidence to give, 
So oft it has been broken— 
My heart alone shall bear its burdens, 
And bear them all unspoken. 
Oh, why may not the heart be true 
To those whose love it hears ? 
Why may not. earth in smiles be robed 
Instead of bitter tears ? 
prived of his rank, on account of the luxury of 
his table, having bad sturgeons on It. 
Lucinius was the inventor of lisli ponds; aud 
Hortensips followed his example, and even went 
beyond it. Very soon, it was not enough to have 
fresh water fish, for salt water ponds wore formed, 
in which were bred sea trouts, soles, John Dories, 
and shell-fish of different kinds. Litcullus, in 
order to let in sea water to one ol his preserves 
had a mountain cut through, aud from f lu's extrav¬ 
agance was deservedly called Xerxes To gat us.— 
At his death there were so many fish in his pondsi 
that Cato of Utica, who was trustee on the suc¬ 
cession, having ordered them to be sold, received 
for them the sum of $160,000, our currency. The 
sales of the fish ponds of Ikrus yielded the same 
price. C.esar wishing, on a particular occasion, 
to give a feast to the Roman people, applied to 
this Inuus for some lampreys. Iruus refused to 
sell any, but, according to Pliny, agreed to lend 
him six thousand. Vakko says only two thousand. 
The object then was, who could be most absurd 
about lampreys. Hortensius had some of which 
he was more carcDrl than of his slaves, and not for 
the purpose of eating them. Those served on his 
table were bought in the market. 
Other fish wero equally the object of prodigality 
of which we can hardly form a conception. The 
mullet, or roach of Provence, called in Paris the 
sun-mullet, was also sold excessively dear. A mullet 
weighing lour pounds fetched $186; another $310. 
These fish used even to be brought alive to the 
dining-room by canals filled with salt water which 
passed nuder the table. 
Snail* and Oysters .—Singular attention was like¬ 
wise paid to snails, and parks were contrived for 
them. As they could not be retained by inclosures, 
tlie places in which they were kept were surround¬ 
ed w 1th water. Jars of earth cm-ware were set for 
them to retire into, and they wore fattened with 
mulled wine and flour. Pliny says there were 
some of the weight of 25 pounds. 
The man who first showed the way of making 
oyster-beds was 8kkom s Aukata. The preserver 
of tho Lucrine lake had for a long time the char¬ 
acter of producing the Lest oysters. Next to them 
were those of Brundnism. At last refinement was 
carried further; and the oysters of Brundnism were 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
It is a fact not questioned at this day, t at the 
difference iu the intellectual capacities of men de¬ 
pends much on their education and early training; 
on the manner in which the faculties and capa¬ 
bilities with which they are by nature endowed, 
are fitted and prepared for the useful occupations 
of life. The discipline we pass through during 
childhood and youth makes an impression which 
years caunot obliterate. 
The word education, when used in its broadest 
sense, implies the means by winch all the powers 
of the body and mind, from iufanoyto old age, are 
developed,—whether it be the knowledge obtained 
by studying books, or by the instruction of teach¬ 
ers, or acquired by participating in the more active 
business of life. The infant comes into the world 
a mere organization of matter, in which is a soul 
or spirit capable of becoming a perfect, man.— 
There is a stroug sympathy existing between the 
soul and body, so that whatever materially affects 
the one exerts a strong influence upon the other. 
In order to promote the growth of the body, and 
to secure a healthy action of i's various functions, 
it must be supplied with simple nutriment that is 
congenial to the delicate fibres of which it 
•not only to regulate 
their own conduct for the time being, but for a 
more permanent and durable purpose, l’rinciplcs 
of morality and virtue impressed npon the minds 
of youth, and carefully guarded from the ink 
The Court House was crowded to suffocation. 
“ Does any one appear as this man’s counsel?” 
asked the Judge. 
There was a silence when lie finished, until with 
lips tiglnly pressed together, and a look of strange 
intelligence, blended with haughty reserve upon 
his handsome features, a young man stepped for¬ 
ward with a Arm tread and kindling eye, to plead 
for the erring and the friendless. He was a stranger, 
but from his first sentence there was silence.— 
The splendor of his genius entranced, convinced. 
The man who could not find a friend was ac¬ 
quitted. 
“May God bless you, sir, I cannot.” 
“ I want no thanks,” replied the stranger, with 
icy coldness. 
" I—I believe you arc unknown to me.” 
"Man! I will iefresh your memory. Twenty 
years ago you struck a broken-hearted boy away 
from his poor mother’s coffin. / was that poor 
miserable boy.” 
The man turned livid. 
“ Have you rescued me, then, to take my life?” 
“No! I have a sweeter revenge. I have saved 
the life of the man whose brutal deed has rankled 
iu his breast for twenty years. Go! and remember 
the tears of a friendless child.” 
The man bowed his head in shame, and went out 
from the presence of a magnanimity as grand to 
him as incomprehensible, and the noble young law¬ 
yer lelt God's smile in his soul forever after. 
■usion 
of evils, increase and multiply as the intellect be¬ 
comes mature. Asa grain of wheat sown in the 
earth shoots forth a stock that bears hundreds of 
seeds, and it these again be planted the product 
will be quarts, Horn which bushels may be pro¬ 
duced—so with good principles sown in the minds 
of children; every product will increase a hundred 
fold, and in their descent from generation to gene¬ 
ration will banish every vile principle from the 
affections. It is in this way that the mercy of the 
Lord is unto the thousandth generation of them 
that love him and keep his commandments; and 
that the evils of parents descend upon their children 
unto the third and fourth generation of them that 
disregard the precepts of Holy Writ. Hence the 
vast importance of rightly directing the minds of 
our children, to have them grow up in the fear and 
nurture of the Lord, that they may transmit those 
principles of truth aud eternal life to their pos¬ 
terity. M. S. 
For M port's Rural New-Yorker 
LUXURY OF THE HOMANS. 
BY O. N. UK11ENT, 
is com¬ 
posed. If its wants are not thus supplied it will 
become peurile, sickly aud (feeble; or. if it is over- 
abundantly furnished with food of an improper 
quality, it will become a mass of gross deformity. 
Precisely the same is the case with the mind whioli 
draws its nourishment from the sphere that sur¬ 
rounds it. If true principles and correct habits 
be presented to the inind of the child in a manner 
that it can receive aud appreciate them, they will 
make a deep and lasting impression upon it, and 
will grow stronger and finally gain the. ascendency 
over the hereditary tendencies to evil. It should 
ever he remembered that children are close ob¬ 
servers of the conduct of those who surround 
them—especially of their parents. Carr we not re¬ 
fer back to the time of our earliest recollections, 
and find many circumstances of our lives that were I 
moulded by some occurrence in the condnot or 
manners of our parents, which they perhaps re¬ 
garded as unimportant, that has exerted a power¬ 
ful influence upon us during our whole lives? 
It should never be forgotten by those who are 
training young children that every action, every 
motion, every look, and every indulged thought of 
the mother, makes an abiding impression upon 
the tender min! of the nursling infant, and does 
its part in forming the future character of the man. 
Its education commences with the earliest dawn 
of its moral ability, and those impressions which 
are made upon the mind during childhood and 
youth, before the reasoning powers are brought 
fully into action in most cases, sink deepest into 
the intellect, and exert a stronger influence upon 
the future character, than those received at a later 
period in life. Notice the fact as often as you 
have opportunity, and you will find the character 
and conduct of a child is formed and moulded by 
that of its mother, unless some intervening cir- 
If the mother is constantly 
A cluster of young girls stood about the door 
df the schoolroom one afternoon, engaged in close 
conversation, when a little girl joined them, and 
asked what they were doing. 
“ I am telling the girls a secret, Kate, and we will 
let you know if you will promise not to tell any 
one as long as yun live,” was the reply. 
“I won’t tell any one but my mother,” replied 
Kate. “ I tell her everything, for she is my beat 
friend.” 
"No, not even your mother—no one in the 
world.” 
“ Well, then, I can’t hear it; for t chat 1 can't, tell 
my mother is not fit for me to know .” After speak¬ 
ing these words, Kate walked away slowly, and 
perhaps sadly, yet with a quiet conscience, while 
her companions went on with their secret conver¬ 
sation. 
• I am sure if Kate continued to act on that prin¬ 
ciple, she became it virtuous, useful woman. No 
child of a pious mother will be likely to take a 
sinful course, if Kate’s reply is taken for a rule of 
conduct. 
As soon as a boy listens to conversation at 
school, or on the play-ground, which he would fear 
or blush to repeat to his mother, lie is in the way 
of temptation, and no one can tell where he will 
stop. Many a man dying in disgrace, in prison, or 
on the scaffold, has looked back with bitter re¬ 
morse to the time when first a sinful companion 
gained his ear, and came between him and a pious 
mother. Boys and girls, if you would lead a 
Christian life, and die a Christian death, make 
Kate’s reply your rule:—" What I cannot tell my 
mother is nut fit for me lu know” for a pious mother 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
FEN SCRATCHES FROM REAL LIFE, 
cumstanec prevents, 
looking sad and desponding, the child will wear a 
similar countenance. If she indulges discontented 
and peevish feelings, she will transmit them to her 
child, and will find them constantly breaking out 
and manifesting themselves in the conduct of her 
offspring. On the other hand, if the mother con¬ 
stantly maintains a calm, pleasant and mild tem¬ 
perament, her children will be quiet, contented 
aud happy. If she be cheerful aud joyous in her 
disposition, she will find her infant, an agreeable 
companion to participate in her gratification, and 
to exhibit in its infantile way evidences of its 
pleasure and happiness. How responsible, then, is 
tbe situation of n mother! With what deep con¬ 
siderations ought she to take upon herself the re¬ 
sponsibility of educating a human soul, whose wel¬ 
fare iu this world, and even whose eternal destiny, 
depends in a great degree upon its early educa¬ 
tion—upon the conductor its parents and teachers 
towards it, as well as upon the principles instilled 
into its mind in riper years. How little does the 
fond mother think when she grants her favorite 
boy some improper indulgence, or passes by un¬ 
noticed some improper conduct of his that should 
be reproved or corrected, that she is implanting 
in his miqd the seeds that may, iu after life, bear 
the fruit of sorrow and regret —that may bring 
upon him years of infamy and disgrace, and cause 
the scalding tear to burn her own furrowed cheek, 
and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. 
The proper time to implant correct principles 
in the mind, is when you have reproved wrong 
conduct. Tho blind like tire earth, must be occu¬ 
pied — and if you pull up Hie weeds and leave the 
spot vacant they will soon grow again,—but if you 
plant good seed it will shoot forth and occupy the 
soil and hold possession. There is one point to be 
secured above all others— i. e., obedience . Implicit 
and willing obedience on the part of the child is 
the foundation of all good. Have this pemianent- 
Pahent and Child.— Considering the relation 
of the parent to the child, and tho means of influ¬ 
ence which the former possesses, it is scarcely too 
much to say that the sin of the child, which might 
have been avoided by faithful parental instruction 
and discipline, becomes the sin of the parent.— 
While the child can lie a p rtakcr of the parent's 
sin only in the consequences, the parent, may be a 
partaker of the sin of the child in its responsibil¬ 
ity and its guilt. We are as much responsible for 
the evil which flows from our neglect, as for that 
which proceeds from our volition. We may make 
auother our proxy in sin, not only by engaging 
him in a wrong act, but also by refraining from 
enlightening and influencing him against it. So 
we sin in the sius of our uninstructed children, 
and make all the dark facts of their lives our own. 
— Examiner . 
Advertising One’s Business. —We have just 
laid down a copy of the London Times, with the 
feeling which that journal always awakens in us— 
astonishuient at, and admiration of, the prodigious 
extent to which Englishmen, in the pursuit of 
wealth, advertise their business. The vaunted 
editorial ability of the Times, is, in our opinion, 
more than matched upon more than one American 
newspaper. But its Advertising Supplement, and 
its own solid columns of infinitely varied an¬ 
nouncements, are a wonder as unequalled in our 
journalism, as it is characteristic of the most sys¬ 
tematic and successful property-acquirers on the 
face of the earth. Whatever tho Kuglish have got 
to sell they advertise, The solid colums of the 
London Times ure a reflection of the industry of 
a large part of the British people .—Albany Journal. 
The following is, we think, one of Longfel¬ 
low’s happiest fancies. Tho author of Evunge- 
line must have been thinking of the Divine com¬ 
mand—“Cast thy bread upon the waters, and after- 
many days it shall return to thee.” 
“ I shot an arrow Into the air, 
It foil to earth I knew not where; 
For so swiftly it flew, tlie sight 
Could not follow in its flight. 
I breathed a song into tbe air, 
It fell to earth I knew not where; 
For who has sight so keen and strong, 
That it can follow the flight of song ? 
• Long, long afterward, In an oak, 
I found the arrow still uubroke ; 
And the sung, from beginning to end, 
I found it again in the heart of a friend.” 
crabbed, shrivelled encumbrance for the sake of 
tbe muucy it can bring. He says girls are such 
loola now-a-days that they will throw themselves 
away upon young men not worth a cent iu the 
world, not knowing or caring whether they end 
their days in a poor house or a palace, but for his 
part thinks they would do better to take a man of 
middle age who has a handsome sum laid by for 
a rainy day. 
Unde Mixkleh is not remarkable for personal 
attractions; indeed, some would call him positive¬ 
ly ugly-lookiug with his small, twinkling eyes, 
crooked nose, rusty teeth, aud complexion the color 
of tanned leather. But after he has brushed out 
his wiry locks, put on his old, swallow-tailed blup 
coat with its double-row of brass buttons, iirnl his 
low, broad-brimmed hat, he walks off with a jaun¬ 
ty, self-assured air, evidently feeling that ho has 
few, if any superiors iu wealth or personal 
appearance. 
dish at all the great entertainments. It was the 
truflled turkey of those days. 
Hortius Pansa, who had the ill luck to give a 
feast where this indispensable article did notap- 
pear, was reckoned u niggard, n man without taste 
and was ever afterward scorned by delicate feeders'. 
In these aviaries thrushes and pigeons were bred. 
It seems, too, there was then tbe same fancies as 
there are at present. Certain varieties were much 
sought after. Vakko relates that a couple of pig¬ 
eons brought 2,000 sesterces, about §115 of our 
money. Skmpronhts Lucius first served on his 
table young storks. Geese were trammed to en¬ 
large their livers; but It was a dish too easily ob¬ 
tained, and soon those who wished to distinguish 
themselves invented new sorts of meat. They 
Theory of the Eyes. —Dark-blue eyes are most 
common in persons of delicate, refined, or effemi¬ 
nate nature; light-blue, and much more, gray eyes, 
in the hardy and active. Greenish eyes have 
generally the same meaning as the gray. Hazel 
eyes are the more usual indications of a mind 
masculine, vigorous, and profound. — Quarterly 
Review. 
Gay Dress. — Beauty gains, little aud homeli¬ 
ness and deformity lose much, by gaudy attire.— 
Lysaudcr knew this was iu part true., uud refused 
the rich garments that tho tyraut Dionysius prof¬ 
fered to his daughters, saying, “ that they were 
lit only to make unhappy faces more remarkable.” 
— Zimmerman. 
Modesty is the appendage of sobriety, and it is 
to chastity, to temperance, aud to humility, as the 
fringes are to a garment.—Jeremy Taylor. 
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