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MOOllE’S RURAL NEW-IORICER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
APRIL 4 
“I don't know ma’am, as I’m too young to be 
honorable. I think boys can be as truthful as men, 
and T know / will be, if you will forgive me,” and 
his voice lowered and his handsome lips quivered 
out—and respect me too.” 
I stooped and kissed the brow of the noble boy 
for a reply, for my feelings were voiceless. A 
proud smile lit up bis face, and he bounded off for 
his home, leaving the sunlight In the room, and it 
entered my heart this time, and I found that I had 
been the taught instead of the teacher, and verily 
it has not proved an unheeded lesson. John’s 
word remains inviolate, and when I am tempted to 
distrust my children, I look to that manly face and 
remember to teach them self-respect, as the first 
step to future goodness aud greatness. We culti¬ 
vate the intellect and let weeds grow rankly in the 
heart; we prepare them for the business of life, 
and call it usefulness, but the spiritual is forgotten, 
until it is said, “Too much learning hath made 
them mad.” 
Remember that the harp-strings we play upon 
are immortal, and vibrate unceasingly, while they 
echo and re-echo discord or harmony, whichever 
we will, forever and ever. 
Buffalo, N. Y., 1857. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
OF ONE GONE. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
THE TEACHER’S LESSON, 
BY MRS. C. H. GII.DEHSLEKVK. 
Wb walked in silence from the tomb, 
When the last prayer had been gaid, 
And drew arouDd a cheerless hearth. 
To name lire virtues of the dead. 
The warm pulsations of her heart 
Are motionless beneath the lid, 
As gome Bweet jivuiet ig bound 
In fetters, when the flowers are hid. 
And we can hardly realize 
The truth that slowly dawns to mind, 
That though we search, the missing lamb 
We really can never find. 
The grave that always heretofore 
Has faithfully retained Its trust, 
Will still continue so to do. 
Till dust has joined its kindred dust. 
But olten io a reverie. 
The light of our complaining fire 
Brings back a sainted form to us, 
Arrayed in heavenly attire. 
And though the ashen lips are sealed. 
And silent here amid the strife, 
Yet we can talk with her, and feel 
Our old affection spring to life. 
And many summers since that time 
Have mantled alt her grave in flowers. 
And woke to newer life and glow 
The trailing surface of the bowers. 
And beautiful as these may be, 
The bloom is only for a time ; 
But the unfolded bud beneath 
Blooms in a never-fading clime. 
In a very excellent address delivered before the 
Tracy Female Institute, in tin's city, by Rev. R. H. 
Richardson, we find the following striking and 
truthful passage, urging the formation of a perfect 
character, as the true aim of the teacher: 
“Genuine improvement is no one sided, partial 
thing. It aims at the formation of a perfect char¬ 
acter, aud directs its efforts, therefore, toward 
everything which goes to make up the character. 
It lays hold of every elemental principle of our 
natm e, throws around it such influences, gives it 
BUth at tention and culture as will cause its vigor¬ 
ous growth and expansion, yet proportional with 
that of every other principle. Perfection can only 
be found in harmony and just proportion. Reason, 
conscience, the affections — all our spiritual facul¬ 
ties and powers, and not less our physical faculties 
and powers, too—enter essentially into the consti¬ 
tution of our humanity — were all intended to be 
helpers of each other’s joy, aud, all together, to 
minister to that excellence and beauty which be¬ 
long to a well-developed character and a well-regu¬ 
lated life. A single instrument in an orchestra 
out of lime will make discord with all the rest 
and more than destroy all the sweetness and power 
of their strains. A single imperfect Btring upon 
one instrument makes it worse than useless for all 
the purposes for which it is designed. A single 
imperfect feature of character will marthe beauty 
of the whole; or to change the figure, like one 
broken wheel of a watch, will disturb or destroy 
all the motion of the machine. How much more 
disastrous the result, then, if the discordant in¬ 
strument be the leading one of the orchestra, or 
the defective partof the watch be the main-spring, 
or the balance-wheel which gives motion or equi¬ 
librium to all the rest! True improvement and 
education, then, 1 repeat it, involve the harmoni¬ 
ous training and development of all onr capaci¬ 
ties and powers, moral, emotional, intellectual and 
physical. 
Foe Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
“GONE BEFORE.” 
¥k have a dear friend, who, lured.by the attrac¬ 
tions of other lands and scenes, is about to part 
from ns. In the hope of realizing the, anticipa¬ 
tions excited by those allurements, beds about to 
sever the ties which bind him to his native place— 
and to us. The hour of his departure arrives, and 
as we press the hand, and the swimming’eye looks 
the “good bye” which the quivering lips refuse to 
utter, how does the eye kindle, and the heart throb 
with pleasure aa the thought flashes upon us that, 
in time, we may meet again; that the t'riend may 
return to us, or we may go to him. We know we 
may never meet on the shores of time, yet the 
possibility is to our full hearts, a “thing of joy.” 
But if the mere hope of an earthly meeting is an 
alleviator of the pain of parting, how “exceeding 
great” should be our joy to know that if ice will, 
we shall meet, to know that although the loved ones 
may not come to us, we nmy go to them. 
Reader, have you stood by the bedside of the 
dying parent, brother, sister, wife or child, and as 
you saw the lamp of life flicker and go out, did 
you deem the loved one gone forever? Or, as the 
dying one's eye kindled with rapture, as the hands 
clasped in an extacy of joy, the feeble tongue 
shouted “ Hozanna,” and the sufferer “ fell asleep,” 
did you think of them as, “not dead'' but rather 
“gone before?' 7 You stand and listen, with sink¬ 
ing heart, 3s the clod3 of the valley fall with dis¬ 
cordant sound, hiding from yon—what? Your 
friend? Nay. The soul, which rendered so beau¬ 
tiful the now cold mass of clay, has thrown aside 
its earthly integument, aud escaped on wings of 
immortality to a holier home. It has “ gone be¬ 
fore” on a journey on which you must soon set 
out. A link binding you to earth is broken, and 
another cord added to those drawing you to heav¬ 
en. Then look up, and what though the heavens 
appear dark. If yon will but look with the eye of 
faith, you will there behold 
“-Gleams look, forth, of spirit eyes, 
Like stars along the darkening skies,” 
while 
“Voices you have pined to hear 
Come back upon the dreaming ear,” 
saying, come hither. Then be notsorrowfnl, but, 
"always rejoicing;” for you have not the hope 
only, bnt the certainty, that if you have lived in 
I the fear of God, though the parting here was bit- 
Shore” shall 
sledge journeys ever performed—and the wildest 
life that civilized man has successfully undergone; 
and to return after all to tell the story of his une¬ 
qualled and almost miraculous adventures and ex¬ 
plorations. Truly, he has accomplished much for 
his country and his race, and justly acquired, by 
an experience exceeding the loftiest romance, a 
fame which is imperishable. 
Above we present what is said to be a life-like 
portrait of one of the most remarkable men of 
this remarkable age — a man, who, ere reach¬ 
ing the meridian of life, rendered himself world- 
famous by deeds of intrepid and chivalrous hero¬ 
ism. and persistent endurance in behalf of science 
and humanity, and whose recent demise has caus¬ 
ed a profound sensation of sorrow throughout both 
the New and Old World. 
Dr. Elisha Kent Kane was bora in Philadel¬ 
phia on the 3d of February, 1S22, apd had therefore 
just entered upon his thirty-fifth year at the time of 
his decease—Feb. 16, 1857. He graduated at the 
t"ni versity of Pennsy l vania, in IS 13, first in the colle¬ 
giate, and subsequently in the medical department; 
and when he started upon his active career of ad¬ 
venture he was esteemed as a good classical 
scholar, and a good chemist, mineralogist, astron¬ 
omer and surgeon. But his frame, even from boy¬ 
hood, was delicate; and, with a view of strength¬ 
ening his constitution, he solicited an ippoiatment 
obtained it, aud wa3 
has been lately studying iu Scotland. No persons 
acquainted with the ordinary meaning of artistic J 
terms in England, will suppose that when we dis¬ 
tinguish Rosa Bonheur by the name of a naturalist 
artist, wc mean to confine her abilities as an artist 
to the mere representation of natural phenomena. 
It is true that she labors more earnestly at the rep¬ 
resentation of a "Bull's Head,” than any sign- | 
painter iu England, who has passed from infancy 
to maturity iu the exercise of doing nothing else 
but drawing “bull's heads." It is true that she 
resolutely refuses to perpetuate on her canvass 
ideal animals, of which she has no knowledge.-— 
Nevertheless, Rosa Bonheur is one of the greatest 
representatives of the naturalist school, in the 
same way that Faraday is one of natural philoso¬ 
phers. Both these persons refuse to know any¬ 
thing of nature but what they have made their 
own, either by actual outward observation, or by 
mental thought It is as the materials of farther 
labor that Rosa Bonheur uses these products of 
her intense study of nature. 
She made a tour in Scotland some months ago, 
for the sole purpose ot studying the animal life in 
that country. There were receptions organized 
for her, but ahe steadily refused them. She, in her 
grand and wise simplicity, would wonder that this 
would be mentioned as anything peculiar: but we, 
who look upon life as it stands, know better, and 
that she might have added considerably to her 
value in the estimation of the world, by submit- 
ing, with a good grace, to these ovations: but she 
withstood them all. She made much use of her 
eyes, but, by necessity, little of her pencil during 
her tour. Nevertheless, some of the slighter sketch -1 
es of Scottish scenery, which she took in hurried 
moments, strike us ns hitting off with wonderful > 
power the peculiarities of the northern landscapes, j 
However, her whole heart was in the cattle which j 
she loves. She has a strange power of sympathiz-1 
ing with cattle, and those which she selected were 
sent up from Scotland to Wcxhain, near Wind¬ 
sor, and from them, since she has returned, she 
lias been devoted to the earnest study of these 
animals. We speak Loru certain knowledge 
when we say, that every streak of sun-light 
falling upon the cherished objects to be made 
available for art, has been jealously watched for.— 
She has been for more than a month occupied in 
taking advantage of the daylight for the purpose 
of making studies of these animals. The result 
of this has been a collection of studies, which, if 
we regard the smallness of the time which has 
been consumed, aud the difficulty in posing and 
grouping the “sitters,” must be regarded as one 
of the most remarkable contributions to art that 
has ever been seen. 
The sketches which we have had the good for¬ 
tune to see were only offered to onr view a few 
hours before the departure of Mademoiselle Bon¬ 
heur to Paris, but even in that short time we were 
enabled to see that we had before us some of the 
most extraordinary contributions to the artistic 
explanations of animal life that have ever been 
made. They are sketches, and Only sketches; for 
the arti st, iu the extremity of conscientiousness, 
has limited herself in each sketch to sufficient 
space to occupy the subject of representation, and 
no more. She will not have them taken as pic¬ 
tures. They are to he the subjects upon which 
thought and skill are to raise up grand artistic 
representations. Nevertheless, iu themselves they 
are perfect. The marvellous finish and extent of 
manipulation in each is a matter of admiration 
not merely to amateurs, hut to great artists.— Paris 
International. 
in the navy a3 surgeon, 
attached to the first American embassy to China. 
This position gave him opportunity to explore the 
Phillippine Islands, w hich he effected mainly on 
foot. He was the first white man who descended 
into the crater of Tael, lowered mote t'uan a hun¬ 
dred feet by a bamboo rope from the overbiinging 
cliff, and, clambering down some seven hundred 
more through the scoria. He made a topographi¬ 
cal sketch of the interior of this great volcano, 
collected a bottle of sulphuric acid from the very 
mouth of the crater; and, although he was drawn 
up almost senseless, he brought with him a sketch 
of this hideous cavern and the specimens which 
it afforded. Upon this expedition he was attacked 
by the Ladrones and savages of the Negrito race, 
and exposed to other hardships, which proved fatal 
to his traveling companion, Baron Loe of Prussia. 
Before returning home from this remote expedi¬ 
tion he had ascended the Himalayas and triangu¬ 
lated Greece on foot; he had visited Ceylon; the 
Upper Nile, and all the mythologie region of 
Egypt; traveling the route, aud making the ac¬ 
quaintance of the learned Lcpsius, who was then 
prosecuting bis archaiologlcal researches. He also 
traversed Greece on foot, and returned to the 
United States through Europe in 1540. 
Soon after his arrival he was again ordered on 
duty, this time to the western coast of Africa. He 
now attempted t-o visit the slave marts of Whydab, 
but having taken the African fever, he was sent 
home in a precarious state of health. He recov¬ 
ered, howover, and we next find him a volunteer 
in the Mexican war. His adventures in Mexico 
proved him to be the possessor of lion-like cour¬ 
age and of a most generous and noble heart; but 
be fell a victim to one of the fevers of the coun¬ 
try, and was very near dying. 
When Dr. Kane recovered and returned, he 
was employed in the Coast Survey Department.— 
While engaged in this service, the Government by 
its correspondence with Lady Franklin became 
committed for an attempt at the rescue of Sir 
John and his ill-starred companions in Arctic dis¬ 
covery. Nothing could be better addressed to the 
Doctor’s governing sentiments than this adven¬ 
ture. The enterprise ol' Sir John ran exactly in 
the current of one of his own enthusiasms—the 
service of natural science combined with heroic 
personal effort, lie was “bathing in the tepid 
waters of the Gulf of Mexico, ou the V2th of May, 
1-550,” when he received his telegraphic order to 
proceed forthwith to New York, for duty upon the 
Arctic expedition. In nine days from that date 
he was beyond the limits of the United States on 
his dismal voyage to the North Pole. Of this, as 
well as of the subsequent expedition which he 
projected, little need here be said, as the public 
have been already fully informed, both as to their 
history and tho splendid results obtained by bis 
daring investigations. 
Dr. Kane was about five feet seven inches in 
height, and usually weighed about one hundred 
and thirty pounds. Complexion fair, hair brown, 
eyes dark gray with a sharp hawk-like look. He 
was never robust. With such general health as 
In a mere monetary point of view, the education 
of the masses must not be neglected. The invest¬ 
ments of capital in good school-houses, competent 
teachers, aud whatever other appliances arc neces¬ 
sary to produce a generous public culture, pay, in 
the cud, a larger per cent, than rail road stocks or 
state bonds. A single instance in point will serve 
to illustrate our premises. The city of Providence, 
Rhode Island, is a marked illustration of the in¬ 
fluence of schools upon the growth of a place.— 
In 1340 the population was 24,171; in 1855 it had 
increased to 57,785; more than doubling iu fifteen 
years. Previous to 1840, the common schools of 
the city, were in a low condition; but at that time 
a great interest was awakened by a few influential 
and enlightened citizens on the subject of educa¬ 
tion, and large and commodious school-houses 
were erected throughout the city, aud first-class 
teachers employed to conduct them. Thi3 attract¬ 
ed people from abroad to settle there, especially 
mechanics, who could there educate their children 
free of expense. 
Thus Providence has already become eminently 
a very good educational and manufacturing city. 
She raises $8ff,0Q0 annually for her schools. Who, 
then, can doubt the influence of schools upon the 
increased value of real property. Let the oppo¬ 
nents of free schools look at this matter, in the 
light of experience, and the opposition to taxation 
for schools will cease. No man cun afford to hold 
back iu the educational movement, and while 
wealth pays tribute to science and culture, it re¬ 
ceives buck its own with usury 
ter, your greeting ou the “Shining 
be, not for a season, but for eternity. 
Chili, March, 1857. T. D. looms*. 
A parent sets out upon a journey, and takes 
with him one of his little children, always accus¬ 
tomed to receive ' -aoefi.s from his parental tender¬ 
ness. The child plainly knows nothing of the 
destined journey, of the place which he will find, 
the entertainment which he will receive, the suf¬ 
ferings which he must undergo, or the pleasures 
which he may enjoy. Yet the child goes willing¬ 
ly and with delight. Why? not because he is ig¬ 
norant; for ignorance by itself is a source to him 
of nothing but doubt and fear. Were a stranger 
to propose to him the same journey, in the same 
terms, he would decline it at. once; and could not 
be induced to enter upon it without compulsion.— 
Yet his iguorance, here, would be at least equally 
great. He is wholly governed by rational con¬ 
siderations. Confidence in his parent, whom he 
knows by experience to be only a benefactor to 
him, and iu whose affection and tenderness he has 
always found safety and pleasure, is the Bole ground 
of his cheerful acceptance of the proposed journey, 
and of all his subsequent conduct. In his parent’s 
company, he feels delighted; in his care, safe.— 
Separated from him, he is at. once alarmed, anxious, 
and miserable. Nothing cun easily restore him to 
peace, or comfort, or hope, but the return of bis 
parent. In his own obedience and filial affection, 
and iu bis father’s approbation and tenderness, 
care aud guidance, he finds sufficient enjoyment, 
and feels satisfied and secure. He looks for no 
other motive than his father's choice, and his own 
confidence. The way which the father points out, 
although perfectly unknown to him; the entertain¬ 
ment which he provides, the places at which he 
chooses to stop, and measures, uuiversally, which 
he is pleased to take, are, in the view of the child, 
all proper, right and good. For his parent's 
pleasure, and for that only, he inquires; and to 
this single object are confined all his views and al 
his affections.— Dwight. 
X Y. Tracker. 
To a young man away from home, friendless and 
forlorn iu a great city, the hours of peril are those 
between sunset and bed-time; for the moon and 
tlie stars see more evil in a single hour than the 
sun in his whole day’s circuit. The poet’s visions 
of evening are all composed of tender and sooth¬ 
ing images. It brings the wanderer to hia home, 
the child to his mother's arms, the ox to hia stall, 
and the weary laborer to hia rest. But to the 
gentle-hearted youth who is thrown upon tho rocks 
Of a pitiless city, ami “stauds homeless amid a 
thousand homes,” the approach of evening brings 
with it an aching sense of louelincss and desola¬ 
tion, which comes down upon the spirit like dark¬ 
ness upon the earth. In this mood, his best im¬ 
pulses become a snare to him, and he is led astray 
because he is Bociul, affectionate, sympathetic, and 
warm-hearted. If there he a young man thus cir¬ 
cumstanced within the sound of my voice, let me 
say to him that books are the friends of the friend¬ 
less, and that a library is a home to the homeless. 
A taste for reading will always carry you to con¬ 
verse with men who will instruct you by their wis¬ 
dom and charm you by their wit, who will soothe 
you when fretted, refresh you when weary, counsel 
you when perplexed, and sympathize with you at 
all times. Evil spirits, in the middle ages, were 
exorcised aud driven away by bell, book and cau¬ 
dle; and you want but two of these agents, the 
book and the caudle.— George > S'. Hilliard. 
To be useful is to be happy; to be loved ot God 
is to he blessed. 
I** u/w * i/V »/*« * 
