1 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
i fstwatfli 
Education is not comprised in the table of con¬ 
tents of a series of school-books, and the teacher 
who thinks that his whole doty consists in drilling 
his scholars into a thorough knowledge of the 
arts and sciences, views his noble vocation from 
a very narrow stand point. This is but the shaft 
to support the graceful capital—the outline of the 
sketch, to be filled in with delicate foliage and 
tracery. 
Many parents are quite indifferent as to the 
mental calibre of the teacher to whom they en¬ 
trust their children, provided that he can instruct 
them in certain specified branches; and very many 
teachers, knowing this fact, cultivate the mind in 
sections, instead of as a whole, and give their en¬ 
tire attention to the intellectual development of 
their pupils, leaving home influence to do the rest. 
But do what we will, the three great branches of 
education—physical, mental, and moral culture— 
are so closely interwoven, that it is Impossible to 
grasp one to the exclusion of the others. 
The importance of physical education iB coming 
to be more fully recognized than it was formerly. 
The eight-hour school system, with its attendant 
badly-constructed and ill-ventilated houses, may 
almost be reckoned as a by-gone institution. We 
feel that a sound mind must have a sound body to 
dwell in, and that it is needful to look to the beams 
and rafters, as well as to the carpets and the up¬ 
holstery. We are beginning to realize that chil¬ 
dren do not go to school merely to become pro¬ 
ficient in certain sciences, but to grow, that they 
may blossom into lives of efficient usefulness.— 
The moral education is going on with the intel¬ 
lectual, and the teacher has ranch to do in mold¬ 
ing the character of the future man and woman. 
This is the responsibility—not only of training the 
intellectual faculties to be subservient to the will, 
to reason closely from cause to effect, and to cen¬ 
tre fixedly upon one point of thought; but of 
teaching them obedience to a higher moral na¬ 
ture, of directing genius to lofty and noble pur¬ 
poses, and of making a conscientious, unswerving 
fidelity to the right, the golden rale for the journey 
of life. He must make his pupils better, as well as 
wiser. He must study their several natures, and 
give to each the aliment that is best fitted for it; 
it is impossible to make the 3ame kind of mental 
diet answer for all the different varieties which 
are to be found in a whole school Large Bchools 
are necessarily imperfect for this reason; it is im¬ 
possible for the teacher to study the peculiarities 
of each scholar, and to adapt himself to the needs 
of his nature. 
There is a great deal of magnetism in the at¬ 
mosphere of a school-room. The teacher always 
exerts a strong influence—either of attraction or 
repulsion — over the minds of his pupils. The 
freshness is not yet worn from their affectional 
natures, and they are warm lovers or good haters. 
If they love and trust their teacher, his rule, though 
gentle in seeming, is, in reality, stronger than a 
rod of Iron. Their minds are plastic, and his in¬ 
fluence unbounded; he becomes, as it were, the 
keeper of their consciences and the trusted guide 
of their moral perceptions; it is well if he per¬ 
forms his duties faithlully. But woe to him if, 
by any unlucky mischance, he is placed in a posi¬ 
tion antagonistic to them: If he ruleB only by 
fear, he may educate them intellectually, but never 
morally; the reaction from personal distrust will 
render both precept and example worse than 
useless. 
These little folks are sharp critics. Each word 
and action of their teacher is caught np, and men¬ 
tally commented upon; and these quiet influences 
have muchtodo in sharpening the character. Many 
a strong prejudice or deeply-rooted opinion of ma- 
turer years may he traced back to a stray word in 
the school-room. Schools must he regarded as 
something more than mere institutions for learn¬ 
ing—they are nurseries for the growth of the whole 
character; and if they be not weeded, and water¬ 
ed, and pruned, and exposed by tarns to the sun 
and the shade, the plant will droop and wither, or 
it will waste its vital energies in leaves and ten¬ 
drils, without ever bearing fruit The teacher 
must look from the present into the future; the 
scholars of to-day will be the teachers of to-mor¬ 
row, and he must fit them for their vocation. If 
he can but throw his heart in his work, he will be 
successful AU things are promised to the ear¬ 
nest and faithful; and the statues which come from 
his hand will not be the exquisitely-chiseled, calm 
and cold creations of the intellect, but glowing 
with wartn life of a generous impulse, a noble am¬ 
bition and a pure soul.— Educational Herald. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
INTELLECTUAL IMPROVEMENT. 
BROADCAST THY' SEED. 
BT JOHN ORITCKLBY PRfJCCB. 
Messrs. Eds.:—A llow me to address to the 
readers of the Rural the following small article 
on a great subject;—namely, the improvement of 
our intellectual faculties. It is a subject upon 
which mankind since the beginning of time have 
practised in direct opposition to their theory— 
have professed to believe that all exertions for 
the cultivation of the mind were likely to produce 
far greater benefits to the human family than any 
others, and yet have bestowed less attention upon 
this subject than many others of lesB importance. 
The intellect^—“ divinely bestowed upon man,”— 
is all that prevents his being an animal of the 
brute creation. Why, then, should it be bo lightly 
prized and carelessly cultivated? We Bbould re¬ 
ceive but little benefit from the natural world with¬ 
out perBeveriDg effort. For instance, although 
the soil is composed of the best materials for pro¬ 
ducing such articles as are necessary to the sup¬ 
port of animal life, yet how destitute of all com¬ 
fort, convenience and means of existence, Bhould 
we be, were no inprovements, no alterations ever 
made by agricultural labor. The earth itself, 
would he here as God created it, but would present, 
to view, nothing but dense forests and barren wastes. 
No buildings, no fields of graiD, no orchards, no 
gardens; these are procured only by the patient, 
continued industry of successive generations. 
And why should we expect to realize the bene¬ 
fits of superior intellectual intelligence with less 
effort; as mind is created by the same power that 
creates matter, — requires cultivation no Icsb, in 
order to be useful to the possessor. And like the soil 
whenever and wherever nature has withheld endow¬ 
ments, proportionally greater should be the at¬ 
tempts to improve. But here we see another 
strange inconsistency in the proceedings of man¬ 
kind. The farmer having ascertained the re¬ 
lative properties of the several divisions of his 
farm bestows the moat labor and expenditure on 
those parts for which nature has done the 
least; thus producing, as near as possible, per¬ 
fect uniformity. But the same farmer who 
works his land bo wisely, takes a course diamet¬ 
rically opposite in the management of his 
children. If one of them seems to he endowed 
by nature with superior intellectual capacity, 
that is the one who receives attention and en¬ 
couragement. Those who appear less brilliant, 
are treated, not like his barren tract of land, but 
with neglect, sometimes with derision—thus caus¬ 
ing far more inequality in their several powers of 
mind, than nature ever ordained or intended. 
With the same spirit, and in the same manner, 
so long as any production of the vegetable world, 
grass, grain or fruit, or animals in his possession, 
are defective in form, size, quantity or quality, he 
is actively engaged, constantly on the alert, striv¬ 
ing to produce the requisite improvements. If 
they are right, he comes to the reasonable conclu¬ 
sion that no farther exertion is required. But of 
the minds intrusted to his care, that oue which is 
nearest perfection in the natural state, is the one 
to be made still better. 
The world displays, likewise, far less judgment 
and discernment in selecting the means for culti¬ 
vating the mind, than the soil As a farmer, Bach 
information as he acquires by his own observation 
and experience, is considered useful and reliable. 
He is not required to take a degree or diploma 
from any incorporated institution, with a big name, 
before he can be successful, ‘‘No. I,”” at the head of 
the heap." Let him properly prepare the ground 
and sow good seed, in the right way, and he will 
be pretty sure of a good crop, without saying a 
word of Latin through the whole performance.— 
Whereas, before a man can be supposed to have 
much literary knowledge, or many intellectual at¬ 
tributes, he must, have been confined a certain 
number of years in some prison-house of learning, 
and received an ear-mark from the overseers when 
he left. I would not wish to have any one under¬ 
value the learning obtained at school, for it is 
highly useful, and, to a certain degree indispensa¬ 
ble. But thousands of our young men, who have 
not the means of obtaining a liberal education, 
give up in despair all hope of renown, and dis¬ 
tinction in life, and make no further efforts. They 
act wrong, for as society is now organized, great 
meanB of obtaining such information as would be 
useful in the practical affairs of Life, are open to 
all Among the means, uone, perhaps, are more 
beneficial when rightly conducted, in neighbor¬ 
hoods and villages, than the Lyceum, “ our debat¬ 
ing school” 
In preparing arguments for discussing the 
several questions, we are led to make examination 
of historical facts,—of the moral and political ef¬ 
fects produced by legislative enactments, and 
doings of men in official stations, to form opinions 
thereon, and learn how to express them. Aud 
our young men by improving such means, may 
become as well qualified for rulers iu the land, as 
some of those who have been labelled “LL. D.” at 
a celebrated university or college. a. h. b. 
North Almond, N. Y., 1857. 
Broadcast thy seed; 
If thou hast aught of wealth to lend. 
Beyond what reason bids thee spend, 
Seek out the haunts of want and woe. 
And wisely let thy bounty flow; 
Lift modest merit from the dust, 
And fill hia heart with joy and trust; 
Take struggling genius by the hand. 
And bid hia striving ?oul expand: 
Where virtuous men together cling 
To banish some unhallowed thing, 
Join the just league, and not withhold 
Thy help, thy counsel, and thy gold; 
Would’st have thy humbler brother freed? 
Broadcast thy seed. 
Broadcast thy seed; 
If thou hast mind, tbou hast to spare, 
And giving will increase thy share; 
Put forth thy thoughts with earnest zeal. 
And make some Stubborn spirit feel 
The grace, the glory, the delight 
That spring from glory used aright; 
The improving wealth, which none can take, 
Though fortune frown and friends forsake; 
The strength of vision, more and more 
Expanding as he dares to soar. 
Virtue and knowledge, glories twain! 
The more they give the more they gain! 
Wouid’at help a brother in hia need? 
Broadcast thy seed. 
Broadcast thy seed; 
Albeit some portion may be found. 
To fall on harsh and arid ground. 
Where sand, or shard, or stone may stay 
Its coming into light of day. 
Be not discouraged. Some may find 
Congenial soil and gentle wind. 
Refreshing dew and fostering shower. 
To bring it into beauteous flower, 
From flower to fruit, to glad thy eyes, 
And thrill thee with a sweet surprise; 
Do good, and God will bless thy deed. 
Broadcast thy seed. 
TURKS AT DINNER, 
WHAT AND HOW THE TURKS EAT. 
Achilles, with a few of his attendants, came on 
board in a small boat, delivered a message from 
Ptolemy, inviting Pompey to land. In the mean¬ 
time, some Egyptian galleys, with an intention to 
secure him, drew near to his ship; and the whole 
army, with the king at their head, were drawn out 
on the shore to receive him. The size of the boat, 
and the appearance of the equipage which came 
on this errand, seemed diaproportioned to the rank 
of Pompey; and Achilles made an apology, alleg¬ 
ing that deeper vessels could not go near enough 
to land him on that shallow coast. Pompey’s 
friend endeavored to dissuade him from accepting 
an invitation so improperly delivered; but he an¬ 
swered by quoting two lines from Sophocles, which 
implies that whoever visits a king, though he arrive 
a free man, m>ist become his slave. Two of his ser¬ 
vants went before him into the boat to receive 
their master; and with this attendance he pat off 
from the ship. 
His wife, Cornelia, and Sextus, the youngest of 
his sons, with some other friendB, remained upon 
deck, sufficiently humbled by the preceding strokes 
of fortune, (defeat at Pharsalia,) anxious for the 
future, and trembling under the expectations of a 
scene which was acting before them. Soon after 
the barge had left the ship, Pompey, looking be¬ 
hind him, observed among the Egyptian soldiers 
a person whose countenance he recollected, and 
said to him:—” Surely, fellow soldier, you and I 
have served somewhere together.” While he 
turned to speak these words, Achilles beckoned to 
the other soldiers, who, understanding the signal 
to put the Roman general to death, struck him 
with their swords. Pompey was so much prepared 
for this event, that he perceived the whole of his 
situation at once, and sunk without making any 
struggle, oi uttering one word. This was done in 
the presence of the king of Egypt and of his army 
who were ranged in a kind of amphitheatre, form¬ 
ed by the shore. The vessel in which the unhap¬ 
py Cornelia, with her family, was left, and the little 
squadron which attended it, as if they had received 
a signal to depart, cut their cables and fled. 
Thus died Pompey, who, for above thirty yearB, 
enjoyed the reputation of the first captain of the 
age. The title of great, originally no more than 
a casual expression of regard from Sylla, contin¬ 
ued, in the manner of the Romans, to be given him 
as a mark of esteem, and a name of distinction.— 
He attained to more consideration, and enjoyed it 
longer than any other Roman citizen; and was 
supplanted at last because, for many years of his 
life, he thought himself too high to be rivalled, 
and too secure to be shaken in his place. Hisla9t 
defeat, and total ruin which ensued upon it, was 
the consequence of an overweening confidence, 
which left him altogether unprepared for the first 
untoward event. The impression of his character, 
even after that event, was still so strong in the 
minds of his enemies, that Cscsar overlooked all 
the other remains of the vanquished party to pur¬ 
sue their leader.— Selected. 
[The following extract from Oscantan’s work, entitled 
“ The Sultan and his People,” comprises some interesting 
facts relative to the Food and Table Habits and Manner of 
the Turks:] 
His Majesty’s meals, according to the custom of 
the country, are two; one in the morning between 
ten and eleven, the other at sunset They are 
served by the Scheshnigear, whose duty it is to 
break the seals of the different dishes intended for 
the Sultan’s repast, and after having tasted, to car¬ 
ry them into the royal presence. 
Although the Osmanlis are great epicures, their 
tastes are very singular. Their dishes are very 
diversified and numerous, consisting usually of 
twelve or fifteen, and sometimes even thirty courses; 
sweet and meat dishes being introduced in alter¬ 
nate succession; the meal commencing with soup 
and ending with pilaf, or a preparation of rice 
peculiar to Turkey. They have a species of pastry 
or paklava, which is remarkably light and deli¬ 
cious; and the mohalleby, or Turkish hlanc-mange, 
is much liked, even by Europeans. Frnit, at Con¬ 
stantinople, is very abundant and delicious, and is 
partaken of frequently during a repast. Indeed, 
the grapes of Sontari, called Tchavoush, are unri¬ 
valled, and even more delicious and delicate than 
those of Madeira or Malaga. 
The order in which a dinner is served is as fol¬ 
lows:—soup, kebab (or roast meat in small pieces,) 
entremet (or vegetables and meat cooked togeth¬ 
er,) pastry, roast, fish, entremet, mohalleby, entre¬ 
met, maccaroni, fowls, jelly, etc., until at last it 
winds np with the significative pilaf and sherbet, 
or hosh-ab. 
No wine or liquor is served at the table, but his 
sublimity occasionally during the day visits the 
pantry, doubtless, “ for his stomach's sake, and hia 
often infirmities.” Unfortunately, modern civili¬ 
zation has some vices aa well as many virtues; and 
the fashion of excessive drinking has, among oth¬ 
ers, lately crept into Turkey, to which some of the 
elegants are becoming much addicted, and, ere 
long, they may, perhaps excel even the paragon, 
John Ball 
Although many other innovations and attempts 
at reform have succeeded in Turkey, yet the orig¬ 
inal style of eating has not been much improved. 
They use neither chairs nor tables; but a low stool 
being pat in the middle of the room, a large cir¬ 
cular copper tray is placed upon it. 
No such paraphernalia as cloths, napkins, knives, 
forks, plates, glasses, etc., are essential; small 
loaves of bread, alternately with small dishes of 
fruit, pickles, anchovies, cheese, etc., are indis¬ 
criminately scattered around the edges of the tray, 
in the middle of which the different preparations 
of food are successively placed by the ayvaz or 
scullion, and the food is eaten with the fingers, ex¬ 
cepting the liquid dishes, for which wooden spoons 
are provided. Around the tray the company as¬ 
semble, sitting with their legs under them, and all 
eating from the dish in the middle; reminding us 
of the customs of ancient times, when it was said, 
•‘It is one of the twelve who dippeth with me in 
the dish.” 
One long, narrow napkin is provided, which 
goes all round the tray, and lies upon the floor, 
each person slipping under it as he sits down.— 
Their tables being accessible to their friends at all 
times, dinner parties are never given, except on 
state occasions; for, hospitality being one of the 
characteristics of the East, and especially eDjoined 
by the Koran, no one is excluded from their board; 
and when the number present is so large as not to 
allow them to sit comfortably, they place them¬ 
selves side-wise, or in a sort of spoon fashion, as 
though they were leaning upon one another, and 
thus illustrating the scene at the feast of the Pass- 
over. 
In some of the houses of the wealthy, and espe¬ 
cially of those whose owners have visited Europe, 
the European mode of eating is imitated, when 
the motley company, which is always assembled, 
sometimes presents a most ludicrous scene. 
Once a Turk at such a table, wishing to conform 
to the customs of civilized life, endeavored to use 
the fork. Failing in several attempts to take a 
piece of meat, and determined to overcome his 
gaucherle, he resolutely took hold of the morsel 
with his fingers, and placing one end of the fork 
against his breast, stuck the meat upon it with aa 
immense effort, and then carried it to his mouth, 
quite contented with his own success, and the ap. 
plause of the company. Daring the sacred month 
of Ramazan, however, the European mode of eat¬ 
ing ia never practised, even by the most enlighten¬ 
ed and liberaL Knives, forks, tables and chaira> 
are then altogether set aside, as being too profane* 
His Majesty usually breakfasts at the Mabeyu, 
and always quite alone; for no one being equal to 
him, none can have the houor of his company; 
and his evening repast is often taken, weather 
permitting, at some beautiful watering-place. 
For Moore’S Rural New-Yorker 
LOOK ALOFT. 
The billow hath its foam, the 3tar its beam of 
light, the eve its breath of balm, and the heart of 
man hath hope. Like the gay dance of the bil¬ 
low, like the soft light of the star, like the 
balm - breathing breath of the evening, hope 
lolleth the heart to its rest. The wave of the 
water is gladdening and the sunlight loveth 
its motion, it beateth in passion and beauty, it 
aparkleth, it darkeneth, it murmureth deep things 
to the heart. And the fairy may float on the 
fleecy cloud, or ride on the silvery beam, but man 
loves to glide over the free, wild ocean, to list to 
its Laugh and ita low, deep moan, and to catch the 
swell that sweeps over the spirit like “ a sound of 
farewell.” The star from the blue vault of heaven 
glanceth brightly, peering as an eye of love through 
the clouds. It loveth the shrines of earth and lay. 
eth a rich offering there—light, Boft, dewy, holy 
light that blndeth the spirit mystically. It shineth 
forever; it lineth the clouds with golden—bless 
the beautiful star. The wind cometh at night with 
balm and bliss. It kisseth the flower, it rippleth 
the stream, it chaseth the clouds in their airy home. 
A wild weird story the wind hath, sending the 
spirit out upon a phantom chase for happiness. 
Earth resteth in beauty forever, with its moun¬ 
tains, its shadows, its forests, and waters, and 
thousand gems. But the heart hath one in its cir¬ 
clet of gems, one beautiful pearl more bright and 
precious than these—the clear pearl of faith, the 
sweet spirit that whispers—“Look aloft and he 
strong.” 
Look aloft, for thy spirit high-soaring shall catch 
a glimpse of that glory its glance seeketh—shall 
bask in the sun-rays that play round the throne of 
tby God. The soul hath such undying aspirations 
after the Infinite; high-born, it disdains earth’s 
fetters, and mounting on free pinions Boars to its 
native skies. Yet often, even from thence will the 
rude tempests hurl it. Often will the Tempter 
tempt and none be near to point it heavenward.— 
Then keep thy soul’s gaze on Heaven, lest these 
storms overwhelm thee and thon perish. It is 
noble and beautiful in the hour of trial to look 
aloft, to trust in God. 
If dreams of ambition and beauty are fading, 
and hearts which have echoed those dreams are 
passing away, look aloft—thou shalt dwelljwith 
them all in that home of perfection where nothing' 
can fade. 
If thou err’st and friends of thy faith should for 
sake thee, and billows of darkness roll over thy 
sonl—look aloft. He sitteth a friend who shall 
never forsake. 
If man dareth to cast on thy spirit one fetter, or 
to hold its tenement in chains; if he dareth to 
to scorn thy rightful heritage of a free life, be firm, 
and be fearless—look aloft, there is freedom above. 
If thon hast grown weary in thy earthly career, 
and sorrows have come with their blighting upon 
thee; if iu their sinfulness the sinful have judged 
thee, amidst the strife of thy nature, “from the 
wave and the gale,” look aloft, there is rest with 
thy God. 
Be strong forever. When at last thy sun rolleth 
down to its rest, let every cloud be lined with 
glory, throw a mantle of faith round about thee, 
and die Its folds. s. e. 
Stouts Grove, Ill., Aug., 1857. 
Bayard Taylor gives the following account 
of the effects of extreme cold upon the Finns: 
1 was at first a little surprised to find the natives 
of the North so slow, indolent and improvident.— 
We have an ideathat acold climate is bracing and 
stimulating—ergo, the farther north yon go the 
more active and energetic you will find the people. 
Bat the touch of ice is like that of fire. The trop¬ 
ics relax, the pole benumbs, and the practical re¬ 
sult is the same in both cases. In the long, long 
winter, when there are but four hours of twilight 
to twenty of darkness—when the cows are housed, 
and the wood cat, the hay gathered, the barley 
bran and fir bark stowed away for bread, and the 
summer’s catch of fish salted—what can a man do, 
when hia load of wood or hay is hauled home, but 
eat, gossip and sleep? 
To bed at nine, and out of it at eight iu the 
morning, smoking and dozing between the slow 
performance of his few daily duties, he becomes 
as listless and dnll as a hibernating bear. In the 
summer, he has perpetual daylight, and need not 
hurry. Besides, why should he give himself 
special trouble to produce an unusually large crop 
of flax or barley, when a single night may make 
his labors utterly profitless? Even in midsummer, 
the blighting frost may fall Nature seems to take 
a cruel pleasure in thwarting him; he is fortunate 
only through chance; and thus a sort of Arab 
fatalism and acquiescence In whatever happens, 
takes possession of him. Hia improvidence is 
also to be ascribed to the same cause. Such a 
fearful famine and suffering as exists this winter 
in Finland and Lapland might no doubt have been 
partially prevented, but no human power could 
have wholly forestalled it 
EDUCATION OF CHILDREN. 
If we complain that with our best endeavors, 
our efforts for the education of onr children fail 
in many ways, and that our most beautiful hopes 
disappoint us; if the youth complains that he en¬ 
joys so little of the most beautiful time of life, and 
that he ever feels burdened by hard fetters; if we 
coiupluin that that child hastens to become a boy, 
and the boy a man; that in this haste, many a 
beautiful soul overtasks itself, and so society re¬ 
ceives only indiff’ereut, useless and exhausted la¬ 
borers; these are the frnits of a vain anxiety for 
the future. Let us not anticipate the order of na¬ 
ture. Let us understand that we can work best 
tor the future by doing each day, at each period, 
that which, without regard to a later time, is the 
best and most beneficial. If we think less of what 
our children as boys and men are to become, than 
what as children they should be, if we only seek 
for them, and to develop in them that which will 
make their childish life beautiful, and in its way 
perfect; if with our love we acoompauy, rather 
than force the development of humau nature; 
thefl’the instructions we impart to our children 
the wise guidance which we are able to give them 
will procure for them the best places in life, and 
without our care, will provide best for the future. 
—SchUiermacher, 
Inexhaustibility of Books. —Books are the 
cause of books. Were there no books in the world, 
it might he difficult to write one; but because 
there are so many there may be so many more.— 
The rays of intellectual light are, by the prismatic 
operation of books, broken into an infinity of lines 
and colors. Men may as soon cease to talk as to 
cease to read and write books. All our daily and 
hourly talk may be made mutter of literature, aye, 
and of interesting literature, too. The more books 
that are printed, the more food is given to the 
mind; and the more nourishment the mind re¬ 
ceives, the more vigorous its powers; and the 
greater its strength, the more valuable Us thoughts, 
and the more exalted its powers and capacities.— 
There is no one topic in the whole range of litera¬ 
ry interest that can be conceived capable of ex¬ 
haustion; and in mutters of imagination there is 
no intellectual foresight, however sagacious, that 
is capable of conjecturing what may be done.— 
London Atlas, 
By the quiet fireside of home, the true mother 
in the midst of her children is sowing, as in vases 
of earth, the seeds of plants that shall sometime 
give Heaven the fragrance of their blossoms, and 
whose fruit be a rosary of angelic deeds, the no¬ 
blest offering that she can make through the ever- 
ascending and ever-expanding souls of her chil¬ 
dren to her Maker. Every word that she utters 
goes from heart to heart with a power at which 
she little dreams. Solemn is the thought b Qt n °t 
more solemn to the Christiao mother than the 
thought that every word that falls from her lips 
every expression of her countenance, even in the 
sheltered walk and retirement, may leave an in¬ 
delible impression upon the young souls around 
her, and form as it were the underlying strain of 
that education which peoples heaven with celestial 
beings, and gives to the white brow of the angel, 
next to the grace of God, its crown of glory. 
Education in California. —Educational mat¬ 
ters iu this State are awakening much interest.— 
Festivals, celebrations, &c., are quite common and 
pass off with great eclat The coat of maintaining 
the schools for the past year in Ban Francisco has 
been nearly $78,000. The schools were to have 
re-opened lor the snmmer on the first Monday in 
June, but owing to non-payment of the school 
taxes they had not commenced at last advices. 
Parts of Sfbech.—I t is asserted that in the 
English language proper, apart from technical 
and scientific terms, there are 10,500 nouns, 40 
pronouns, 7,200 adjectives, 8,000 verbs, ’3,000 ad¬ 
verbs, CO prepositions, 10 conjunctions, GS inter¬ 
jections, and 2 articles. According to Webster’s 
Dictionary, there arc one hundred thousand words 
in the language. 
Heat gotten by degrees, with motion and exer¬ 
cise, is more natural, and stays longer by one than 
what is gotten all at once by coruiug to the fire.— 
Goods acquired by industry prove commonly more 
lasting than lands by descent.— Fuller. 
People are better found out in 
hourB, than by the principal actio: 
the first is nature, the second art. 
V - 
