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MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
APRIL 18. 
faMis’ iRtt'fnlifl. 
CONDUCTED BY AZILF 
SONG. 
FROM THE GERMAN. 
The green leaves rustle far and near, 
The bowers bloom again. 
And !rom the nightingale I hear 
The old delicious strain. 
0 happy he, whose heart may feel 
The blias that springtime can reveal 1 
Thro’ wood and livid I'd gladly go, 
And with the wild birds ring. 
While thus with happiness I know 
The wholo wild world doth ring ; 
But why lor song and Uowret care, 
Since thou art wanting everywhere ? 
O friend beloved I and shall I see 
Thy gentle face no more ? 
Then is the springtime lost to me, 
Its joy, its beauty o’er. 
For ah I what pleasure can there be ? 
What is a springtime without thee r 
4 - 
For Moore’s Karol New-Yorker. 
THE GOOD ANGELS 
WHO ATTEND THB POOR AND LOWLY OF EARTH. 
’Twas a cold, chilly day in winter; the cheerful 
Bun had, for awhile in the morning, deigned to 
smile upon the snow-covered earth, and the prom¬ 
ise of a splendid day was hailed with delight.— 
But, fair as the promise seemed, ’twas soon to be 
broken. Dark, stormy clouds were seen, as if in 
angry strife, gathering their forces from every di¬ 
rection in the visible heavens, and suddenly and 
most fearlessly, as if conscious of victory, they 
rushed between earth and the shining sun, and his 
face was seen no more. Every now and then fit¬ 
ful gusts of wind would come rushing along, 
hurling the finely powdered snow in the face of 
the passer by, and then, coward-like, as suddenly 
hide away around some corner, no one could tell 
where. 
But to me it mattered not, for mine it was to en¬ 
joy the luxury of a warm and comfortable room, 
at one side of which was a large window, opening 
upon the wide and busy street below, I drew my 
chair and sat down by this window, to amuse and 
instruot myself as best I *ould by observations, 
which, perhaps, might serve to furnish food for 
wandering thoughts. I had Bat thus, dreamily ga¬ 
zing out, I know not how long, when my eyes 
chanced to fall upon the figure of a child in the 
distance. Unconsciously, almost, did I watch his 
slow and unsteady approach. 
Alas! poor little pauper,—friends you cannot 
have; for see, that little, faded, worn-out apron 
would he hut a miserable substitute for the thick, 
warm coat of that boy who pushed so rudely by 
you just then. The cold, piercing wind, too, how 
cruelly it sports with those tattered garments!— 
See, again—he can scarcely stand. No wonder, 
so cold, so hungry, no doubt. The cold, white 
Bnow melts not upon those little coral toeB, as be 
steps aside that that gaily dressed lady may pass. 
Surely she will pity him,—alas, no, for, in answer 
to his imploring “ Kind lady, please,” she quickly 
drew in the fold3 of her rich wardrobe stilloloser, 
as if fearful of some dreadful contamination, and 
haughtily passes the little sufferer. 
Ah.thonght 1, is conscience asleep? No, but a 
“tis such a disgrace to us, these beggars,” must 
silence the gentle monitor, and the scene is forgot¬ 
ten— but not forever. I could but feel there 
had been unseen eyes witnessing all this: and so it 
was. Though perhaps I might have dreamed, I 
hardly know, I could see naught save that little 
cold, hungry child, as there he still stood. Awk¬ 
wardly indeed did be raise his little benumbed 
hand to brush away a falling tear drop, and 
then, once more, most wistfully did he cast his 
tear-dimmed eye down the crowded avenue, and, 
sighing heavily, turn a corner and slowly and 
sadly move along the sidewalk. 
I thought I could not see him anymore, and yet 
I could. ’Twas not altogether a dream. I saw a 
beautiful angel, with hovering pinions all snowy 
white, who followed this poor child of neglect.— 
He seemed entirely unconscious of the angel’s 
presence, who, I could distinctly see, was really a 
protector. Ever and anon did the kind angel 
softly whisper something in the ear of the child, 
and then Bomehow he would seem to quicken his 
pace, and once I saw him smile; but a sadder 
smile I had never seen. 
It was nearly dark when that miserable dwelling 
was reached. I saw him enter, and hurry to a 
corner of the cheerless apartment where, on a 
pallet of straw covered with but the thinnest 
blanket, lay his sick and dying mother. He threw 
himself down upon the bed by her side and gave 
vent to his burdened feelings fa a paroxysm of 
grief. The mother comprehended the meaning of 
this, and said little to him until this passionate outr 
buret of grief bad partially subsided; then, drawing 
his cheek closer to her own, she fondly kissed her 
darling hoy as she called him, and tried with 
soothing words to comfort him. 
She did not try in vain, for the mind is elastic, 
especially of the young. He raised his drooping 
head at length, aud turned his tearful eyes upon 
his mother’s for a moment, and then lovingly en¬ 
circling her neck with his thin arms, kissed her 
pallid cheek again and again, saying, “No, dear 
mother, I will not complain, God will take care of 
us; you have often told me so, and now I feel, 
somehow, that He 1s near. I think I do love Him 
to-night, mother. I wonder when He will take us 
up there? He took dear father, and little sister, a 
good while ago. 0, mother, don’t you wish He’d 
come to-night? What are you crying ’for, dear 
mother? We would not he cold and hungry there, 
and you would not be sick, would you? Don’t cry 
any more, I wont,” and again those sweet lips 
were pressed in one long, impassioned kiss. 
The mother strove to hide her tears nnd calm 
her voice as she spoke. “ No, my child, for God is 
good, and soon, very soon, I know Ho will take us 
hence to dwell with Him.” 
After a moment’s pause, a bright, happy thought 
seemed suddenly to cross the mind of the thought¬ 
ful boy, and with his beautiful face radiant with an 
almost Heavenly smile, he exclaimed, “Yon be¬ 
lieve true, don’t you, that God sends angelB to watch 
and take care of us? Because, you know, there 
is so many people to he taken care of, that He 
couldn't do so much at once, so He tells His an¬ 
gels to; and don’t you kuow you read something 
about it the other day in God’s book?” 
“ Yes, my sou, it is true,” said his mother, feebly 
smiling, for her pale check was growing paler, and 
and the crimson hue of her lips was fast fading 
away. 
“Mother, I’m very cold,” placing his little hand 
in her’s,” “aud you arc- too. I wish God would let 
the augels take us—to—Heaven.” A gentle pres¬ 
sure of the hand was all the answer given—a slight 
movement of the lips for a moment, and all was 
still, for the angel of deat h had peacefully borne 
their pure and happy spirits away to that home 
above. 
I awoke from this sad, tho’ not altogether un¬ 
pleasant reverie, better and nobler in heart and 
purpose—resolving henceforth to live not for my¬ 
self alone, bnt also for the good of others—and let 
me ever remember, “It is more blessed to give 
than to receive.” Ada. 
- 4 ~~»-- 
THE MOTHER’S BIRD. 
“Mamma, when will the little birds come again? 
—Mamma, when will God melt the snow, that the 
little birds may come again?” 
“Precious darling! in all the wide world beside, 
there is not to he found a lovelier, sweeter bird 
than thou art!” And the fond mother drew the 
little prattler to her loving bosom, smoothed with 
a gentle hand the sunny' curls from that baby brow, 
and gazed with a mother’s love into the baby eyes. 
Earnestly, with her little head pillowed against 
its soft resting place, did this bird-like child listen 
to the soft murmur mgs of her mother’s voice, as 
she told her of that bright land far beyond the 
blue sky and the twinkling stars; of the land 
where no winter comes—where summer always is, 
and tho little birds always sing, of the bright- 
robed throng there; of the loving Savior, who had 
taken just such little ones as herself, and said “ Of 
such is my Father’s Kingdom;” of the great white 
throne, and the Father who sittetli thereon, who 
ever watcheth over his little ones with tenderness 
and care. 
The winter months had not flown, nor earth had 
»been disrobed of her snowy mantle, ere this bird- 
ling, wearyiDg of earth, its Btorms and tempests, 
winged her way to that bright land of which her 
mother had so often told her, and joined with 
rapturous melody, the warbling company that sur¬ 
round the throne of the loving Father. The long, 
long delay of spring no longer causes her little 
bosom to heave with sighs; for the brightness of 
Heaven is eternal sunshine. Neither Bighs she for 
the singing of birds; for none in all that warbling 
throng trills forth a sweeter note than she. 
Fond mother, why sorrowest thou that thy bird 
has'flown? As thou followedsl her with uplifted 
and streaming eyes, didst not thou see her enter 
the glowing portals of Heaven, guided by a 
seraphic host? Didst not the melody of that 
gushing song fall upon thine ear, as she was wel¬ 
comed to the bosom of the Father? Didst not 
thou know that gentler arms than thine would em¬ 
brace her, and a softer bosom pillow her little 
head? 
She is ever thy guardian angel, mother! Thro’ 
the toil and care of each day thou art attended by 
her; and when thou repairest to thy couch, she 
hovers around, and calniB thee to repose. When 
thou art glad, so, too, is she; and when thou art 
sad and sorrowful, she draws near, and fans, with 
her tiny wing, the fever of thy troubled soul. Thy 
mission on earth performed, life’s battle fought— 
then will her pure spirit guide the© on high, and 
with rapturous Hosannas, welcome thee to an 
eternal resting-place on the bosom of the Father. 
— Selected. 
-■» • -»- 
HOME. 
Home: it is a little word; it bits its own interests 
its own laws, its own difficulties and sorrows, its 
own blessings aDd joys. It is tbe sanctuary of tbe 
heart, where the affections are cherished in the ten- 
derest relations—where heart is joined to heart, 
and love triumphs over all selfish calculations.— 
1 1 . is the training-school of the tender plants, which 
in after years are to yield flowers and fruits to pa¬ 
rental care. It is the fountain whence come the 
streams which beautify and enliven social life. 
If any man should have a borne, it is the man of 
business. He ib the true working-man of the com¬ 
munity. The mechanic has his fixed hours, and 
when these have run their course, he may, ere the 
day closes, dismiss all anxiety as bis labor ends, 
and sock the home circle. Comparatively little 
has been the tax ou his mind, and not much more 
on his physical system, as he learns to take all 
easy. But the man of business is under a constant 
pressure. His is not a ten-hour system, with an 
interval of rest: but he is driven onward r,ud on- 
©jimu pimllamj. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ONLY A RHYME. 
BY JENNY MARSH PARKER. 
There once did creep a’tlirough that little space. 
That grated spot of sunshine on the wall, 
A bland south hreese that softly kissed my face, 
And to ray soul in pleasant sounds did call. 
It crept, amid my tresses thin and grey, 
And toyed them fondly as he used to do ; 
Then, like my baby,—lost dove,—on my heart it lay 
Till the long-gone past iuto the present grew ;— 
And dreaming there was warmth within my breast, 
The burdened years did drive me to a rest. 
II. 
And when I woke the midnight had gone by, 
And still the gloom of the black shadow fell 
Across the wold that held my prison cell, 
And through the grated spot I saw a cloudless sky. 
The air was cold, damp cold upon my cheek. 
And ’round myself my wasted anna did cling,— 
Clung as if holding a far softer thing,— 
“ Oh, bland south wind!" I cried, “come once again, 
I clasp with fervor wild bnt this mad pain ! 
Come ! come I and nestle in my lonely breast, 
And with soft dreamings cheat me Into rest t” 
III. 
And then a happy thenght did make me glad,— 
I had a lyre,—to me a precious thing, 
Though 'twas without a wreath or golden string, 
Yet it could sometimes blissful hours bring, 
When in the lonesome darkness I was sad. 
I groping found it and did hang it where 
The breeze would strike it when it came again 
On its angelic wing, and then 
1 knelt off in the silence full ol prayer. 
IT. 
And what then, think ye ? while I waiting bowed 
With forehead close Upon the pavement cold, 
I heard a mighty rushing crossed the wold, 
The rage of tempests howling fierce and wild. 
And while my prayer with faith was breaking forth, 
A wail swept iu that broke the lyre strings, 
And at my feet tbe shattered fragments lay, 
Shattered, shattered like the heart's best things. 
Rochester, N. Y., 185?. 
- 4 .»- 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorksr. 
DO WHAT YOU CAN! 
Do what you can. There is in this simple thought 
an expressiveness which speaks volumes. Like a 
series leading to infinity, we follow it until the 
mind wearies. Though the contemplation may 
yield to us no added power, it has a sort of expan¬ 
sive tendency, which furnishes to us, though inade¬ 
quate, a dim perception of the extent of human 
achievements. 
The success of our Nation, has been usually at¬ 
tributed to the genius of our free institutions, 
which unshackle both tbe physical and mental 
power of her sons, and rewards whatever measure 
of good she findB in them. Be this as it may, there 
is in them an element of character, at once com¬ 
mendable aud fruitful in results. It is the habit 
of putting forth effort—of commencing with small 
means, and looking hopefully forward into the fu¬ 
ture, trusting to Providence for success—of crea¬ 
ting rather than waiting tor opportnnitiaa—of 
bending circomatances to them, rather than con¬ 
forming themselves to circumstances—of laying 
plans with shrewd sagacity, and moulding tbe 
events, yea even the casualties of every day into 
the furtherance of some object; and thus from 
commencements the most insignificant and un¬ 
promising, attaining the most laudable ends. The 
genu of this principle, the May Flower brought 
over from England in 1G20. It was nourished in 
adversity, yet has grown a hardy vigorous plant. 
It is almost incredible what one fertile mind, pos¬ 
sessed of an indomitable will can accomplish.— 
What glorious monuments have patient thought 
and toil chiseled out. They are the watchwarda 
to fame, the key to sncccss. The history of our 
country is full of such, and the glory of her an¬ 
nals owes its lustre to them. As it is said that 
wealth depends upon the accumulation of the first 
thousand dollars, and the habits thereby formed, 
so in knowledge, so in power. An All-wise Crea¬ 
tor has so ordered it, that the perfection of our 
faculties depends upon their use. Precisely in 
proportion to the draft made upon them, is the re¬ 
turn. A thought copied to-day, may generate a 
dozen to-morrow. Few people are perhaps aware, 
how much a habit of thought creates a power of 
thought; and a facility of expression otherwise 
unattainable. It is possible for us to pass through 
the world, from the opening of life's dr.ma to Its 
Close, and having eyes see not, and having eara 
heai 1 not, and having reasoning faculties to reflect 
not. The veriest dullard in school has been known 
to out-strip genius, while he was flattering himself 
with the possession of heaven-born gifts. 
The energy and will to do, seems to be thor¬ 
oughly imbued iu the minds of the youth of all 
classes. The spirit of this inspiration, caught, 
Do u-hat you can ! We love that simple home¬ 
bred pb rage. We love tbe generous limit that, it 
vouchsafes to undeveloped power—the impetus 
anew it gives to flagging toil-vexed spirits, scorn¬ 
ing coercion; and methinks I bear again tbe ex¬ 
clamation which came from the followers of Alex¬ 
ander, "We are not thirsty; we are not weary; 
lead on .” B. A. McNall. 
Lima, N. Y., 1857. 
——-- 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
WITH SPRING COMES A NEW YEAR. 
When the first day of January arrives, we say 
it is “New Year’s Day”— the beginning of a new 
year. We celebrate it with festivities, and glad¬ 
den it with mirth and pleusure. It comes at a 
period when nature, in our northern regions, is 
under the dominions of the Frost King, and is held 
in his cold and strong embrace. Tbe exhibitions 
of life, at this period, are mainly to be found in 
the marts of trade and the avenues of business, 
anil not in the kingdom of nature. The trees are 
leafless. The birds no longer sing in their branch¬ 
es. The wind no longer waves the tall grass and 
tho headed grain, or sigltga among the thick foliage 
of tho trees; it whirls and drifts the feathery snow 
instead, and whistles among the naked boughs.— 
The verdure of the Helds It is vanished, aud nature 
has taken on the general aspect of death. 
And this we say is the beginning of a new year. 
Be it so. But wait awhile. “ Who is this Leauti- 
hours. He must he employed. In the earnestness 
of completion — iu the complexity of modern 
modes of business—in the fluctuations which fre¬ 
quently occur—in the solicitous dependence on 
the fidelity and integrity of others—he has no lei¬ 
sure moments during the day. With a mind 
incessantly under exciting engagements, and a 
body without its appropriate nutriment, ho may 
well pant for home, and bail tue moment when he 
may escape from his toils to seek its quiet, and it* 
affection and confidence. 
-- 
The Use of Little Time. —One of the hoars, 
each day wasted on trifles or indolence, saved and 
daily devoted to improvement, is enough to make 
an ignorant man wise in ten years—to provide the 
luxury of intelligence to a mind torpid from lack 
of thought—to brighten up and strengthen facul¬ 
ties perishing with rust—to make life a fruitlul 
field, and death :i harvest of glorious deeds. 
- 4 . »- 
What a glorious privilege it is to be allowed to 
put our egotism on the cross, and through the pu¬ 
rifying and kindly influence of loving criticism, 
he washed and sana titled for a long eternity, so 
that the fire of judgement shall only make mani¬ 
fest the perfection of the work of Christ, in the 
purity of our characters. 
- 4-*-4 - 
It is with life as with coffee, he who would drink 
it pure must not drain it to the dregs. 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
The National Intelligencer recently had ft very 
excellent article on the progress of human im¬ 
provement during the past century, and in esti¬ 
mating the changes made the past hundred years, 
thus sketched the state of Europe a single century 
from the present date: 
In the year 1750 Washington, then in his 25th 
year, had been busily engaged in planting forts 
along the frontiers of Virginia, then the haunt of 
prowling savages. Field-marshal the Marquis of 
Montcalm was reducing Fort Oswego, ascending 
the St. Lawrence as far as Ontario, and strength¬ 
ening Crewn Point and Ticonderoga, General 
Loudon, and Abercrombie, of the Iiritish army, 
were parleying in Albany or elsewhere, debating 
when they should have been fighting; for, in 175G, 
England aud France, instead of being allies, as at 
present, were engaged in hostilities of which the 
theatre embraced Loth the Old World and the 
New. George the Second sat on the Brilish throne, 
and Louis the Fifteenth had been long enough 
King of France to forfeit the title of “well belov¬ 
ed” with which he had been greeted by his royal 
subjects soon after his succession to Louis the 
Magnificent. England was cursed by tbe spirit of 
party ill ber civil affairs, as Franc* by that incip¬ 
ient dissolution of morals which reached its acme 
in the Parc-auxcerfs and the Court. In England 
Charles James Fox, afterwards Lord Holland, was 
the premier of the Cabinet, though closely pressed 
ward, early and late, without the calculation ef perhaps, from our common schools, which dot 
every corner of our highways, and are said to be 
our national characteristic, swells in the heart of 
the lad, and he inwardly repeats the words of Paul, 
“ / am what l am.” In his efforts to demonstrate 
what th**e wordB may compass, he virtually creates 
power. Flattered by tbe discovery he goes on 
from thought to thought, until it occurs to him to 
use this ability for the working out of some high 
purpose, The object is weighed, the coneeptiou 
grasped, and means to the end decided upon.— 
This done, the difficulty is more than half com¬ 
passed. Power, directed to an object tangible and 
well defined, becomes potent and efficacious; while 
the same amount distributed upon a variety of ob¬ 
jects would be lost. 
He who, becanse he may not with one thrust re¬ 
move it mountain, or with one gigantic stride step 
up to eminence, sits down iu useless repinings, or 
wastes his time in frivolous pursuits, is worse than 
idle, he is criminal. It is a truth to which ages 
have testified, that unwearied labor must work out 
every real and permanent good. It is the means 
bestowed lor the accomplishing of ends, and the 
justness of the remuneration must strike every 
thinking mind. Whoever then does what he can 
earnestly and faithfully, may rest assured that it 
will he no meau acquisition. There is a nobility— 
there is a grandeur in a soul that can struggle on 
amid adverse currents, and reach a goal, while 
others, wafted by favoring gales, still eddy by the 
shore. 
ful virgin that approaches, clothed in a robe of by bis powerful rival, William Pitt, afterwards 
light greeu? Fhe has a garland of flowers on her Earl 0 f Chatham, who before the close of the year 
head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her succeeded in displacing the former, 
foot. The snow which covered the fields, and Ihe Britisb paraphleteer3 withont naml)era were d5s . 
ice which was in the rivers, molt aw ay when she c08s i ag the expediency of defending the British 
breathes upon them.” With the coming of tins po8Bessions in Amer ica “so far hack in the inte- 
“ beautiful virgin,” nature awakens to new life.- rior pftrt(! of Norlh Amorloa aR tUe river 0 hj 0 , tbe 
Now really commences a new year. The woods 0mt Lako and tho Fal]fl of Njagftra) » and mauy 
and the fields are again enlivened by tho mnsic of wcr „ fonnd t0 raa ; Bta in that territories so remote 
the birds. A spirit of activity and restlessness migbt b()ttor bo abandoned t0 lhe Frencb a8 a 
seizes upon tbe whole of animal creation. Those, wortb!c88 domain. Politicians were debating the 
both wild and tamo, that have kept close to avoid wayB mcana of pr08ccnting tbe war wJlb 
the winter storm and the freezing cold, now roam FiancB) whether by enrolling the national militia 
abroad to taste and to enjoy the freshness of 0 r by paying subsidies for foreign troops. In the 
spring. Tho trees hud aud blossom, preparatory i ater ior of England men’s hearts were falling them 
to clothing themselves with their summer foliage for fear of a Prtnch iBVa8ioD) tbe probabilities 
and to bangiug themselves with their golden fruit ftnd regult8 of wljich were do)j rob( , ar8ed in bad 
Man partakes of the life-giving influence which is prose and worge verge> ln the Mediterranean the 
shed abroad upon all nature. The night of the Iflland of Minorica was seized by the French, and 
year is past, his season ot rest is at an end, and he Aflmiral Byag( for bi8 iniputed error9 of an un . 
goes forth to sow that he may reap, and to eiyoy lar Mini8tryt wbo without de8erv ing success, 
the beauties which are springing up around him. Qr doiflg flugbt to command it , had led the conn- 
toe ester, N■ to■ ^ ^ try t0 expect most confidently that victory would 
everywhere follow the British flag. 
For Moor* e Rural Now-Yorker. 
MISANTHROPY ln the Connoisseur, by “Mr. Town,” 
_ ' continued to delight the Londoners, though its 
Some persons seem to have lost all confidence perusal was not unattended with disparaging com- 
in their fellow men, and as their harshness might ments on the part of those who had breakfasted 
be thought unwarranted, they are ever seeking on hot rolls and the fepeetutor, Instead of Edin- 
something to support this distrust. They magni- hirS a ai ihe London Quarterlies, the “Monthly 
ty the vices of humanity to the utmost, but are Review, or Literary Journal, by several hands,’ 
strangely incredulous of virtue. Wrapped up iu a was principal organ of the English literati, 
supreme sell-love, they canuot appreciate, or even atld gaumed to be tbe critical lihadamanthus who 
believe iu u noble solf-sacriilce, and hence they heard the pleas and appointed the fates of English 
distort even the moat virtuous actions, by aacrib- authors. Hume was publishing his history and 
ing them to wrong and selfish motives, thus mak- Hutcheson was expounding his moral philosophy, 
ing virtue wear the semblance of vice. To them while the lame of Ilighop tVarburton was to some 
the truest and purest friendship is but hypocrisy, au object ot perpetual assault and to others of 
andeverything butself and self-love mere pretense, perpetual adulation. In France, Voltaire was 
Men are naturally apt to suspect those who are writing pamphlets and hooks at the rate of a pam- 
so well acquainted with all the dark places in the phlct a day and a book per month, while his asso- 
huutftti heart, and to attribute to them those feel- the Encyclopedists, were slowly mustering 
ings which they so freely imputo to others. Nor their forces iu the cause of Illuminism. In Swe- 
is this unjust, for goodness i* never suspicious of den, Linmeus was analysing flowers from China 
eviL The dark images which are imprinted on iuid Palestine, the collection of his friend IIossel- 
the retina of the mind's eye are more generally fluiL 
reflected from within than from without of tbe viUa S eB and market tovras of 
It is sad to see persons thus giving up their faith England the clergy complained that the people, 
in man, till they cannot believe in goodness and retaining the old style of chronology, could not 
virtue, except as abstract qualities. We cannot ke brought to observe the ehurcb lasts and feasts; 
help fearing that this icy coldness of the heart is the highways were still beset by footpads; multi- 
hut the sign of the moral death of the man-the tndea were look > n S 1>or t1ie “ R reRt comet >" whose 
death of everything good aud true. COQlin K Sir IaftttC Newton had assigned to the 
Henrietta, N. Y., 1857. W. J. Fowler. opening of the year 1767, and tracts were circu- 
__«_ lated to show from Scriptnre prophecy the con- 
CONFIDENCE IN ONE’S SELF. nection between that event and the Second coming 
- of Christ, which latter, by the “Millerites” of a 
When a crisis befalls you, and the emergency century ago, was deemed close at hand. The ex- 
requires moral courage and noble manhood to pertinents in electricity “of the ingenious Mr. 
meet it, be equal to the requirements of the mo- Franklin” were about this time first published in 
ment, and rise superior to the obstacles in your England, aud “pointed rods” began to be erected 
path. The universal testimony of men whose ex- by a few iu defence against that medium which 
perience exactly coincides \yltb yours, furnishes to-day we have harnessed and made to cariy our 
the consoling reflection that difficulties must be thoughts from one end of the land to the other. 
ended by opposition. There is no blessing equal - 4—4 - 
to the possession of a stout heart. The magnitude MISTAKES OF PRINTERS. 
of the danger requires nothing more than a greater - 
effort than ever at your hands. If you prove rec- Some people are continually wondering at the 
reant in the hour of trial, you are the worst of “carelessness” of editors in allowing so many 
recreants, and deserve no compassion. Be not errors and blunders to appear in their columns 
dismayed or unmanned when yon should be bold and mar the prink Such people know very little 
aud daring, unflinching and resolute. The cloud of the difficulties—we had almost said impossibil- 
whose threatening murmurs you hear with fear keeping them out. the most careful 
and dread, is pregnant with blessing, and the attention to these matters will not prevent errors 
frown whose sternness now makes you shudder creeping in, even when professional proof-readers 
and tremble, will ere long be succeeded by a smile are engaged expressly for the purpose. And when 
of bewitching sweetness and benignity. Then bo it is borne in mind that in moBt papers such an 
strong and manly, oppose equal forccB to open expense is necessarily dispensed with, and the 
difficulties, keep a stiff upper lip, and trust in proofs ou that account art* often hurriedly exam 
Providence. Greatness can only be achieved by ined, the fact will no longer appear strange. In 
those who are tried. The condition of that connection with this subject tho following anec- 
achievcment is confidence in one’s self. doto is not inappropriate. 
-- A Glasgow publishing house attempted to pub- 
WHo are the Happy?—L ord Byron said:— lislt a work that should be a perfect specimen of 
"Tho mechanics and workingmen who can maintain typographical accuracy. After hav ing been care- 
their families. Poverty is wretchedness, hut oven ftiUy road by six experienced proof-readers, it was 
poverty is, perhaps, to he preferred to the heart- posted up in the hall of the University, aud a re- 
less, unmeaning dissipation of the higher orders.” ward of XoO offered to any one who should detect 
Another author says:-"! have no propensity to a » em ”'- Kach P a « c remftIp « a tw ° week# 111 tbl “ 
envy any one, least of all the rich and great; but and M when the work was issued, several 
if 1 were disposed to this weakness, the subject of «rors were discovered, one of which was in the 
iny envy would be a healthy young man, in full f irst °J tlie f irit pa £ e ^ 
possession of his strength and faculties, going When such wa* the case in a city ong celebra- 
fortli in a morning to work for his wife and chil- ted in Great Britain for publishing the finest and 
dreu, or bring them home his wages at night.” most correct editions ot tho classics, what is to be 
_ a _ expected in a newspaper which must necessarily 
“Paid thk DbbT or Nat«-he.”-No, it is not hurri '-” 1 ^OUgh tbe press while U is news; aud 
paying a debt; it is rather like bringing a note to "^0 the com G ensation w.l hardly afford one 
a bunk to obtain solid gold in exchange for it In “experienced proof-reader,” let alone six. The 
this case you bring this cumbrous body, which is wonted accuracy of our papers is really astonish- 
nothing worth, and which you could uot wish to Selected. 
retain long; you lay it down, and receive for it, 
from the eternal treasures, liberty, victory, know- Public opinion cannot do for virtue what it does 
ledge, rapture._ Poster, for vice. It is the essence of virtuo to look above 
-- opinion. Vice is consistent with, and very ot'ton 
The Scotch have this proverb: “A gude word strengthened by entire HubBorviency to it.— Chati- 
is as soon said as an ill one.” niag. 
11^ 
