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MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
and subjugated so many princes, and art not yet 
tions, pleasures and advantages of social life, and 
dexterity in gaining a livelihood are taught, as 
matters of course; while the formation of the mind 
and the heart is estimated as a secondary consid¬ 
eration. This produces more serious consequences 
than may at Llrst appear. One or both of two re¬ 
sults are almost inevitable: the child’s natural sim¬ 
plicity may be poisoned, and its openness of heart 
he violated. These are serious obstacles to the 
education of the infant mind. 
For the understanding of a child to ho healthy 
and properly formed, it must have been supplied 
with correct notions of things, and taught, always 
to think in a way consonant with truth. Rut this 
cannot be accomplished without, much assiduity 
and care; this is no exception; anything, the 
possession of which is valuable, is generally diffi- 
And what can be more precious to 
satiated with blood and battles. Tby ambition is 
condned within no boundaries, and thy lust for 
fame is without end. But they will cease, when 
the dust of the earth shall cover thee!'’ 
The renowned Alexander retraced hia steps 
and died in Babylon at the age of 33 years. 
Brock port, N. Y., 1857. S. T. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
“HE HAS FAILED.” 
CONDUCTED BY AZILE, 
HOME WITHOUT A MOTHER. 
BY W. O STODDARD. 
What is home without & mother? 
What are all these joys we meet? 
When her loving smile no longer 
Greets the coming of our feet; 
The days seem long, the nights are drear, 
And time rolls slowly on ; 
And 0 ! how few' are childhood’s pleasures, 
When her geotle care iB gone. 
Things we price tire first to vanish ; 
Hearts we love to pass away ; 
And how soon, e'en in our childhood, 
We behold her turning gray. 
Her eye grows dim, her step is slow, 
Her joys of earth are passed, 
And before we learn to know her, 
She hath breathed on earth her last. 
Other hearts may have their sorrows ; 
Griefs that quickly die away ; 
But a mother lost in childhood, 
Grieves the heart from day to day. 
We miss her kind and willing hand. 
Her fond and earnest care— 
And 0 ! how drear is life around up. 
What's home without a mother there ? 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
AMERICAN PATRIOTISM. 
Tiikrk is one strong little phrase 
That much can express, 
But it’s ne’er miDgled with praise, 
Nor j deed to success : 
Bofore that short phrase many bold hearts hare quailed, 
As they heard some one say “He hss failed, he has failed.'' 
Oh ! how bitter the feeling 
When, spite of our lews. 
Some stern Fate iB sealing 
The doom of our years— 
And white the fiend writes it, our sunlight has palod, 
And wo read in the Dlgbt, “ He has failed, he has failed." 
It is hard, alter toiliog 
Our best life away, 
Our spit its oft soiling. 
Our young locks turned grey, 
To find that some evil our work has assailed, 
And to hear the crowd mutter “ Ah, yea, he has failed." 
Ah I hard, when we're lying 
Whore all men mnst He, 
And strive, although dying. 
Like brave men to die, 
To hear through the night, as though angels bewailed, 
“ Oh ! the life that is wasted, poor soul! he has failed." 
Rochester, N. Y., 1857. 
The American people have frequently been un¬ 
justly criticised for their excessive patriotism.— 
To us such opinions of the fault-finders argue not 
only a misconception of the genius aud spirit of 
our own institutions, but also a misunderstanding 
of human nature generally, and the science of 
government, existing under whatever form it may. 
It is true that American patriotism, as manifested 
by the people, is Bometimea boisterous, but never 
absurd nor inconsistent. As an Americau, and as 
one who loves the land of bis birth, I am glad oi 
such demonstrations. Itisan evidence to me that 
the people prize dearly the blessings of tho liberty 
they enjoy; that their hearts glow with gratitude 
for the precious legacy transmitted to them. God 
be praised that the people are thus patriotic.— 
None but the cold and selfish will presume to cen¬ 
sure the deep and absorbing love of country 
which animates our countrymen, and none but 
such will criticize the means of manifesting such 
patriotism. May we ever he free from loving our 
country coldly,philosophically and systematically. 
The masses of men may not, at all times, exhibit 
that prudence and foresight desirable. They may 
not in the expression of their feelings be so free 
from passion and excitement as the cultivated and 
thoughtful, yet they are not less consistent. That 
patriotism which is based upon the principles of 
intellectual oulture merely, which excludes the 
outbursting feelings of the lees refined classes of 
■such is of short 
cult to obtain, 
an affectionate parent than an intelligent child ? 
or what could more amply reward parental exer¬ 
tions— those beautiful labors of love? Can we 
expect the child to successfully pursue truth, thro’ 
the by-paths and mazes of falsehood, without a 
guide to first teach it the shortest and safest way, 
and a beacon to afterwards remind it of its in¬ 
structions? The honest little hearts of childhood 
are easily caught in the snares of popular error ; 
ana for them once to he so entangled, Is perhaps 
the most melancholy accident that cau befall them; 
consequence follows consequence, until the result 
is a deplorable, and may be, a fatal ignorance.— 
To avoid this, tbe child should be sabject to a 
systematic watching; and wheneverit arrives at a 
wrong conclusion, a conversation, kind, consider¬ 
ate, and of character to suitits age, may put it right, 
and so explain the cause of arriving at such un¬ 
sound judgment, that the error may, perhaps, be 
less seldom as tho child becomes older. This may 
appear to involve an arduous undertaking on the 
part of the parent; but it is absolutely necessary; 
for by no other means can the child be taught 
sufficiently early to pay attention to the operation 
of its own mind, which is one great object to be 
aimed at and achieved. 
All questions should be patiently and carefally 
answered; and by no means should curiosity be 
checked. To reply peevishly and sharp to a child’s 
interrogatories, is a fatal mistake, and neither con¬ 
firms the prudence nor intelligence of the parent. 
It is to check the cravings of a mind desiring to 
develop itself; to refnse to labor, that you may be 
rewarded a hundred fold; to nip in the bud the 
long desired flower, and to heap sorrow on your 
head, an 1 expect rejoicing. The injunction to 
“ heai; see, and say nothing,” is a mistake which 
must Booner or later he patent to the world of pa¬ 
rents and tutorB who have so long cherished it as 
an orthodox admonition to those intelligent little 
creatures who have desired to understand what 
they have seen. Of course, there are times; and 
seasons when Bilence should be required of them; 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LESSON S.—NO. I. 
[Translated from the German for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
The child is sleeping. For hours she has been 
in that calm, sweet slumber. The shutter has been 
unclosed, and from among the broken clouds tbe 
moon sbi ues on tbe little girlish face. Hush! tbe 
eyelids tremble, she is waking. Now the fringed 
lids are lifted, and one may see the earnest eyes 
gazing out into the. still room, and the little head 
half raised from the pillow, as if some voice had 
called and the ear waited to catch the sound again. 
What bath wakened the child? Was it the heavy 
step of that, poor, shivering female out in the No¬ 
vember wind? Was it the sobs of that infant in 
the weary mother’s arms? Was it her low, half- 
fearful rap at the door? Was it not rather the 
voice of some good angel, saying, " Arise, go learn 
of thy mother.” 
With a quick, light movement she springs from 
her conch, then through the hall to the top of the 
stair-way. •' Mother, may I come?” A gentle 
voice answers, “yes.” There is a patter of tiny 
feet down the long flight of stairs, a child-form at 
the open door. She sees Sister Mart holding a 
sad-faced baby, trying to soothe it to sleep. Moth¬ 
er’s chair is drawn close up before the fire and a 
strange, pale woman is sitting in it; while mother, 
that Christian mother, is kneeling before her.— 
Elsie sees that she has been bathing the pale wo¬ 
man’s feet, and now is gently rubbing them w ith a 
soft napkin. “Come here, my daughter,” she 
says to the timid child, and Elsie goes and stands 
by her mother’s side. She looks at those poor, 
swollen, bruised and lacerated feet and cannot 
keep from crying for very pity. At her mother’s 
bidding she brings a bottle of liniment from the 
shelf, and still watching the kneeling figure ten¬ 
derly applying the soothing lotion, that beautiful 
story of Christ comes vividly before her mind; 
how he knelt and washed his disciples’ feet. She 
thinks she can almost see a halo of heavenly 
light about her mother’s form, so pure, so Christ- 
like does a simple act Of charity make that parent 
appear in the eyes of her child. 
At last the kind woman puts the poor stranger 
and her child to rest on a soft, warm couch. El¬ 
sie with Sister Maby goes back to her room. At 
first she cannot sleep, her mind is filled with such 
beautiful thoughts, her heart with such holy aspi¬ 
rations. In the fulness of those pure emotions she 
says to herself, “ I will try to be good-will try to 
be like my mother. To-morrow I’ll play with that 
THE GIFT OF THE IMMORTALS, 
Alexander the Great had already conquered 
many kingdoms, and subdued innumerable kings 
and princes. The earth was full of his glory, and 
the whole world feared his name. Yet he was not 
content with the fame he bad already acquired, 
but contiuuod spurring on from Beige t.o seige, and 
from battle to battle, and rushing headlong into 
countries unknown to the majority of his people. 
His ambition knew no bouuds, but strove to ac¬ 
quire the glory of having conquered the whole 
earth. 
One day his army involuntarily made a halt; it 
advanced not a single step more, and Alexander 
himself, on looking about, Btopped with astonish¬ 
ment. They had come into a region, where every 
thing which they saw, was most wonderfully col¬ 
ored. The blueness of the sky appeared brighter 
than in any other country, the color of the grass 
more refreshing and beautiful. The plumage of 
the birds, which were flying above the heads of 
the warriors, was most splendid and gorgeous.— 
Trees, never seen by mortals before, were in full 
view, and animals of curious forms ran to and fro 
in the adjacent thickets. A strange humming and 
whizzing was heard in the air, and the purling 
streams sounded like silver vessels striking against 
one another. A peculiar sensation took possession 
of the mighty army, and Alexander himself com¬ 
manded the learned Chaldeans, whom he had 
brought with him from Palestine, to tell him into 
what strange region they had come. 
The Chaldeans nnsweied:—"Bow down humbly, 
0, great Alexander! To thee is given the great¬ 
est prerogative which mortal man cau receive.— 
Thou hast pressed forward to a place where no 
living being ever stood,—thou beholdest before 
thee the holy gate of Paradise !” 
Thereupon Alexander raised his eyes and was 
about to march foraard, but his foot was suddenly 
He dr^bia sword, and made several 
community, is not tit for freemen- 
duration and almost worthless. 
Give ns that patriotism which is enlarged and 
liberal in its views—which embraces all the pas¬ 
sions of the soul and unites individual and public 
interest in one—which causes the citizen to give 
utterance to the heroic sentiment of the Roman 
poet: 
*i Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori 
which, while it doeB not disregard our common 
humanity of every land, yet clings with a firmer 
love to the land of its nativity or adoption. Let 
there he enthusiasm. I.c-t strong terms of endear¬ 
ment be employed in speaking of our common 
country, for by these are we more assured that our 
countrymen love and cherish this land. 
Let the haughty foreigner speak disparagingly 
if he will of the fondness of Americans for Araer* 
We have reason to boast of our 
A HOUSE WITHOUT A I3ABY, 
There was not a child in the house, not one: I 
was sure of it, when I first went in. Such a spick- 
and-span look as it had! Chairs, grown up chairs, 
plastered straight up against the wall, books ar¬ 
ranged by rule and compass; no dear little care¬ 
less finger marks on the farniture, doors or win¬ 
dow glass, no hoop, or doll, or mitten, or basket, or 
picture hook on the premises, not a pin, or a shred 
on the angles and squares of the immaculate car¬ 
pet, the tassels of tbe window shades, at which 
baby fingers always make such a dead set, as fresh 
as just from the upholsters. I sat down at the 
well polished window, aud looked across the street. 
At tho upper wiudow of awooden house opposite, 
I saw a little bald baby, tied into a high chair, 
speculating upon the panorama in tho street, while 
its little fat hands frantically essayed to grab dis¬ 
tant pedestrians on the side-walk. Its mother sat 
sewing diligently by its side. Happy woman ! Bhe 
has a baby! Bhe thought so too, for by-and-by she 
threw down her work, untied the fettering hand¬ 
kerchief, took the child from its prison-house,and 
Ah! she has heard a step 
ica, we care not 
country and feel proud of her present position and 
of her future destiny. And what is our country? 
A continent almost boundless in extent—a domain 
broad and ample, embracing within its boundaries 
almost every variety of climate and soil, and fur¬ 
nishing tbe products common to every zone; the 
cold sterility of the North with its frozen lakes 
and forests of pine; the temperate region with its 
plains and valleys teeming with abundance; tbe 
South with its rich plantations of rustling cane, 
its fields of snowy cotton, and Us golden fruits.— 
And then the mighty expanee is diversified by 
scenery the most romantic aud enchanting. Here 
may be found the works of nature, grand, wild, 
and sublime—all created on a scale oi gigantic 
magnitude. The lakes are inland seas, on whose 
crested waves may ride the navic-B of tho world; 
rivers on whose broad bosoms float richly freight¬ 
ed argosies. Here are congregated the people of 
every nation and tongue. From every nation of 
Europe thousands have flocked to our Bhores to 
find a home and a conntry free from oppression, 
where can be enjoyed unmolested the blessings of 
civil aud religious freedom. 
May we not, in view of snob facte, feel proud of 
our land? May not our countrymen exult in pros¬ 
pects so glorious? Gob grant that this spirit of 
patriotism may ever increase and inflame the 
hearts of all those who come among us—that they 
may catch the genius and spirit of oar institutions 
and learn to prize highly the freedom of our com¬ 
mon country. a. j. e. 
Rochester, N. Y., 1857. 
checked. 
attempts to press against the gate, hut the sword 
rebounded. 
“I am Alexandbb,” he cried, “tho master of 
the world. I have subdued countless provinces and 
empires,—I demand admittance into Paradise!” 
Thereupon it seemed as if spirits were hovering 
over his head, and a voice exclaimed:—“No mor¬ 
tal can penetrate this place! Well mayest thou 
conquer earthly princes, but thou wilt contend in 
vain with tho immortal!” 
Alexander, though exceedingly desirous to see 
the habitations of the departed, soon discovered 
that here force was of no avail 
“ Give me,” said he, beseechingly, “ give me at 
least a memorial of Paradise, as a testimony to all 
mankind that I stood before the house of the im¬ 
mortals.” 
Again spirits were flattering above his head, a 
ringing sound was heard, and something fell at 
Alexander’s feet. Rejoiced he stooped to pick 
up the gift of the immortals, and behold—it was a 
human skull l 
“And is this the gift of the blessed inhabitants 
said he turning to 
covered it with kisses, 
upon tbe stairs—the step! and now there ure two 
to kiss the baby; for John had come to his dinner, 
and giving both mother and child a kiss that makes 
my lips work, lie tosses the baby up in his strong 
arms, while its mother puts dinner on the table. 
But, pshaw!—here comes tho old maids I was 
sent to see. I hear the rnstle of their well pre¬ 
served silkB in the entry. 1 feel proper all over.— 
Vinegar aud icicles! how shall I ever get through 
with it? Now the door opens. What a bloodless 
look they have!—how dictionary-isb they speak! 
—how carefally they lower themselves into their 
chairs, as if the cushions wero stuffed with live 
kittens!—how smooth their raffs and ribbons! 
Bibs and pinafores! Give me the upper room 
in the wooden house, with kissing John and that 
bald baby !—Fanny Fern. 
There iB an old-world delusion, which man clings 
to very fondly, and builds up and propounds most 
conti lently whenever ho has an opportunity; it is 
the idea that he has degenerated in size and stat¬ 
ure, aud that there were giants in other days, aud 
that he is gradually dwindling down to dwarf- 
dom. The past is ever disproving this theory.— 
In thiB very museum we saw proof on proof 
that man is very much the same now as he has 
been Bince the flood. Ours is not quite a leg-of- 
mutton list, aud yet we could scarcely squeeze our 
hand into the hilt of Odin’s sword. We are not a 
Goliath of Gatb, aud yet we did not think the 
knight’s weapon such an unmanageable weapon. 
We remember once being disappointed In the 
weight of an iron-studded flail, in the armory of the 
Knights of 8t. John, at Malta. A oomrade, how¬ 
ever, who saw it through the old delusion, ex 
claimed, “There’s a weapon! It would task our 
degenerate thews and sinews to wield that, I 
think.” “Eh, man!” said a highland corporal who 
was with us, “ there’s a chi el in our company who 
can wurl it round hia head like a wusp of straw.” 
Yet, spite of tliesa evidences, the discovery of u 
few gigantic bones here and there is enough to 
revive tho old fallacy, and 9et babblers prating of 
men whose head did reach the skies. We had a 
friend in Wales—’tis now long Bince we have seen 
bis face or heard his voice, though we think of 
him oft—a very Hercules in size and proportion, 
a giant formed in perfect mould. Should his 
skeleton—long may he be in becoming such—be 
dug up by men of coming time, and taken as a 
type of bis generation, well might they think that 
they had been preceded by the sons of Anak.— 
Blackwood's Magazine. 
SPORTS OP CHILDREN. 
I have been employed the last three hours with 
Jno. Elliott and other boys, in trying how long we 
could keep up two cricket balls. Lord Minto 
caught us. He says he must send me ou amission 
to some very young monarch, for that I shall never 
havo the gravity of an ambassador for ft priiice 
turned of twelve. He, however, added the well- 
known and admirable story of Henry the IV., of 
France, who, when caught on uli fours, carrying 
one of his children, l>y the Spanish envoy, looked 
np and said, "Is your excellency married?” “I 
am, and have a family,” was the reply. “Well, 
then,” said the monarch, “ I am satisfied, aud shnll 
take another turn around tho room;’’ and oil ho 
galloped, with his little son, flogging and spurring 
him, on his hack. I have sometimes thought of 
breaking myself of what arc termed boyish habits, 
bnt reflection has satisfied me that it would be 
very foolish, and that I should esteem it a blessing 
that I can find amusement in everything, from toa- 
sing a cricket hall, to negotiating ft treaty with 
the Emperor of China. Men who will give them- 
solve b entirely to ImsSneaa anil despise (which 8 
their term) trifles, are very able in their general 
conception of tho great outlines of a plan, hut 
they feel a want, of that knowledge which is only 
to be gained by mixing with all classes in tbe 
world, when they come to thoBclcBBer points upon 
which its successful execution may depend. Of 
this I am certain; besides, all habits which give a 
man light, elastic spirits, are good .—Life of Sir 
John Malcolm. 
of Paradise? Explain to me,” 
the wise Chaldeans, “the object of these spirits! 
Had they nothing better than thiB skull in their 
blessed abode ?” 
The Chaldean sages advanced and one of them 
addressed the king as follows:—“What, 0 great 
Alexander, can the immortals give to thee that 
is better than a scriouB admonition? Thou pos- 
sessest all that an earthly priuce can possess;— 
what more dOBt thou want? Consider this skull— 
it is the remnant of a man who, during his whole 
life never ceased to desire and demand; now it is 
of no value, and yet the immortals present it to 
thee ! But let us weigh it in a balance.” 
A balance was brought. Into one of the scales 
they laid the skull, and into the other, gold, silver 
and other metals. And how amazed was Alexan¬ 
der when he saw the scale with all the inetals, 
swiftly borne up into the air, whilo the other rest¬ 
ed firmly and heavily on the ground. They 
doubled the weight of the metals, but the skull 
still over-balanced the whole. 
“And is there nothing,” asked Alexander, 
“that could weigh down the skull?” And his 
eyes remained fixed upon it. 
“Yea, assuredly there Is!” said the sago Chal¬ 
dean; and stooping lie took up a handful of dust, 
strewed it upoD the skull, and with a sudden, quick 
impulse, the Beale containing the skull flew on 
high. And while Alexander, with earnest aud 
amazed looks, contemplated the sudden change, 
the Chaldean said:—“This is the interpretation of 
the gift. This skull represents man, who daring 
his life is insatiable and unbridled in liis desires. 
Nothing can satisfy him—the accomplishment of 
one wish only excites new desires. Thou, 0 great 
king, hast conquered so many realms, hast subdued 
CULTURE OP CHILDRENS MINDS 
There is nothing, perhaps, under heaven that is 
so pleasant to witness as parental affection; it is an 
instinct so natural and bo powerful that obstacles 
are surmounted and sacrifices are made without 
remorse, nay, with pleasure, by those parents who 
see in their offsprings the consummation of love. 
Bntis it not surprising, or rather, is it not a matter 
of deep regret, that with all this affection, with all 
this sincere and honest idolizing, one of the first 
duties and one of tbe greatest pleasures should be 
overlooked, neglected; that the mind of the child, 
simple, tractable, and confiding, should be left to 
develop itself under the harsh influences of igno¬ 
rance—to become dwarfed by a mistaken kindness? 
So soon as the infant opens its bedazzled eyes in 
this world, It commences to think—to learn. Its 
thoughts, of course, arc weak and perhaps only 
half-formed; hut there is the mind, whose nature 
will not allow it to rest, however mncli we may de¬ 
ceive ourselves upon that point The necessity, 
then, exists for the attentive training of the infant 
mind from the earliest moment it deals with the 
things of this life. Instead of this, however, cus¬ 
tom has so far imposed her conventionalisms upon 
us, that the child walks and talks for years without 
any attention being made to the direction of its 
thoughts; and when, at length, this duty is under¬ 
taken, it is generally performed with such inex¬ 
cusable laxity, that the child’s memory is loaded 
only with words of half of' which it scarcely knows 
the meaning, and with warning against those 
enormities merely which involve punishment and 
disgrace; external propriety of behavior and po¬ 
liteness; tho arts of reserve, dissimulation, and 
flattery; certain orthodox notions of the occnpa- 
care should be taken tbat it is sumoieuuy uenue- 
rateinarrivingatconclusions. Considering,then, 
the whole of these circumstances, is the culture of 
the child’s mind a matter upon which the parent 
should feel indifferent? It is ft duty solemnly in¬ 
cumbent, aud a task no less noble than delightful. 
No language is very weak in its natural course, 
until it runs too far; and then the poorest and the 
richest are ineffectual equally. The habitude of 
pleasing by flattery makes a language soft; the 
fear of offending by truth makeB it circuitous and 
conventional. 
Humble Virtue.— Flowers have bloomed on our 
prairies, and passed away, from age to age, unseen 
by man, and multitudes of virtues have been ftete 
out in obscure places, without note or admiration. 
Tho sweetness of both has gone up to heaven. 
Remem her that every person, however low, has 
rights and feelings. In all contentions let peace 
be rather your object than triumph. Value tri¬ 
umph only as the means of peace .—Sidney Smith. 
