MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND EAMTLY NEWSPAPER 
profess with the Odenwalders, to be able to walk 
as far in six hours as a horae can go in five. I 
looked anxiously for a public house, which I found 
at last in one of the clusters ot houses. Bat it was 
so dirty that I called for nothing hut a glass of 
wine and some bread and butler, and then went on 
to Erbach which I entered a little before sundown. 
In the morning I visited the Reiitersaal, iu the 
castle, containing an interest'ng collection of 
armor and weapons. The walls of the first hall 
are bristling with antlers of deer captured among 
the mountains, where I believe they 3re yet quite 
plenty. A heavy oaken door on which iB a curi- 
oub lock, made in the last century, admitted us in¬ 
to the Reiitersaal, whiok is lighted by stained win¬ 
dows. In niches on each side of the door stand 
the figares of two robbers, clothed with the armor 
which they wore while living. One of them holds 
his sword with which he was beheaded. There 
are twenty suits of armor in the room. Borne of 
which were made for the tournament, and are 
mounted on carved horBes. One holds the frag¬ 
ment of a lance that ba3 been splintered in com¬ 
bat There is the armor of a dwarf, about the size 
of Tom Thumb, who lived in the court of one of 
the kings of Austria, and was once brought on to 
the table in a pie. There are heavy two-handed 
swords, daggers, shirts of iron net work, and vari¬ 
ous other weapons that were nsed in the middle 
centuries, and suits of armor that were worn by 
Wallenstein and Gustavos Adoi-thus king of 
Sweden. Most of the accoutrements of warfare 
are enormously heavy. A pair of spurs hung on 
the wall which weighed at least ten pounds. 
After having seen the Reiitersaal, I resumed my 
journey up the Muml'mgthal, passing through 
Michelstadt which is about as large as Erbach, and 
reached Hochst in time for dinner. Beyond tlm 
viltage is one of the prettiest spots I saw in the 
Orfatwald, The level meadow lands ia the bottom 
of the valley are about a mile wide, and were dot¬ 
ted with flocks of sheep, attended by shepherds 
with their dogs. The shepherds were armed with 
crooks, and wore long cloaks of bine cloth and 
black felt hats. The mountains that hem the val¬ 
ley in, are covered with forests of green firs and 
deciduous trees, in which I beard the resonndiug 
blows of the ax, reminding me strongly of my na¬ 
tive land. At the npper end of the valley the 
stream wound round the base of a terraced hill, 
crowned with a castle. 
Fot Moora's Burst New-Yorkor. 
THIS WORLD IS NOT MY REST, 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
Tnja world is not ray rest— 
I seek a fairer home, 
Where anguish ne'er shall rend this breast, 
Where blight may never come. 
Ia such a home, so peaceful, fair— 
I would my Savior's glory share. 
Here all things puss away. 
The friends so dearly loved 
Are but tent treasures of a day, 
Quickly, alas! removed 
Our fond hearts' purest, sweetest flowers 
Are plucked for yon celestial bowers. 
We ne'er may hope to tlnd 
Aiaid the toys of earth. 
Aught that can fill the immortal mind— 
The soul of heavenly birth. 
Not richest gems of earthly mine, 
Are worthy of the spirit’} shrine. 
1 seek a home above; 
I seek a treasure there; 
Friendship that Death shall ne'er remove, 
Flowers ever bright and fair. 
For such a home of perfect bliss, 
Fain would I leave a world like this. 
Middleport, N. Y., 1857. Emma. 
BY QLKZEN F. WILCOX. 
Trip from Heidelberg to Frankfort. 
It was necessary for me before entering the 
Austrian dominions to get my passport again vised 
For that purpose I determined to go to Frankfort- 
on-the-Main, and as the weather was favorable, I 
resolved to make my way thither through the Oden- 
w-ild, a romantic mountainous jegion, lying be¬ 
tween theNeckar and Main. On the lUatof March, 
I took the cars at Heidelberg for Weiobeim, a town 
on the Bergstrasse, about eight miles distant. We 
crossed the Neckar on a magnificent stone bridge 
atLadcnbnrg, an anoient city, containing yet some 
towers and remains of other fortifications, made 
by the Romans, and speeding on in eight of the 
vineyards on the western slopes of the mountains, 
iu a few moments reached Weinheim. 
I walked into the town where the street and 
market place were crowded by people who were 
holding a Pair. There were provisions, articles of 
honseliold furniture, implements for farming, pic- 
tores, clothing, and a variety of trinkets exposed 
for sale. I conld not help noticing the clumsiness 
of the farming utensils; the forks and hoes being 
made by the common blacksmith, and being twice 
as heavy as those our grandfathers nssd. I did 
not climb np to the shapeless rnins of the old bar¬ 
onial caslle of Windeck, which looked romantio 
enough, crowning a round, vine covered hill, hut 
entered the valley of the Wescbniz which 1 deter¬ 
mined following into the very heart of the Oden- 
wald. The scenery for a mile or two was remark¬ 
ably beautifaL The valley is winding and so nar¬ 
row that somelimes the rock is cut away to make 
room for the road, and the mountains sloping down 
to it, are covered with the forest. The Wescbniz 
is a pretty, jovial mountain Btream, leaping mer¬ 
rily alougover the rocks, and turning ia the course 
of six miles fifteen or sixteen milts. The trees 
were bare and grey, for it wa* too ea-ly in the sea¬ 
son for the leaves ami flowers to make their ap¬ 
pearance among the mountains, but the air was 
warm, the suu shone, and as I walked along I 
listened to a variety of music, composed of the 
twittering of the birds, the murmuring of the 
stream, the deep hum of busy mills, and the solemn 
moaning of the wind in the forest. Numbers of 
the country people were on the road going to the 
Fair; and many of them raised their caps and 
greeted me with a “ guten tag,” I passed over 
the borders of Baden into Hes on, and shortly al¬ 
ter the valley spread out wider, meadows lay along 
the banks of the stream, and I saw before me the 
red roofs and pointed gables of Birkenan. 
After dining there I went on to Rimbach, which 
I entered just as the sky was beginning to send 
down a drizzling rain. The valley between the 
two villages, ia in some places a mile broad. The 
hills which hem it in, are cultivated as far as prac¬ 
ticable, grain and grass being raised, but no wine. 
There ia considerable frnit of the hardy Borts— 
apple and pear trees growing along the aides of 
the road. The peasants were plowing with their 
cow teams in the small, unfenced fields. I had a 
letter of introduction to the clergyman of the vil¬ 
lage, which I delivered and was kindly entertained. 
A little before dark, one of his sons and myself 
took Borne fish-poles, and went a little distance np 
the stream, where in spite of the rain we caught 
enough speckled trout for sapper. In the evening 
we went into one of the taverns, of which there 
are four in the village, to drink a glass of beer.— 
We passed through the first room, in which a few 
peasants were seated by the tables, and entered an¬ 
other where we found the aristocracy of the vill¬ 
age, composed of two doctors, the apothecary, and 
the school master. Before we left, another man 
entered whom I found was also a teacher, giving 
privato lessons in English and French. He was 
much delighted with the opportunity of speaking 
Euglish with an American, and excusing himself 
for a few moments, went home to send away seve¬ 
ral pupils who were waiting for their lessons. He 
returned in order to talk with me, and before we 
parted, urged me strongly to spend a few days in 
the village. 
It rained heavily through the night, and when I 
looked out in the morning it had not ceased.— 
There had been so little rainy weather this year 
that I was afraid when it once commenced it would 
continue for a long time, and the prospect of being 
canghtin a little village among the mountains was 
not very agreeable. However, in a couple of 
ARMENIAN PRIEST. 
THE ARMENIANS : 
THEIR RELIGIOUS AND SOCIAL CUSTOMS. 
The betrothal having been arranged with all due 
ceremony, the wedding takes plaoe at the appoint¬ 
ed time. The marriage ceremonies are celebrated 
both at the house of the bride and of the bride¬ 
groom daring three days. 
The bride is conducted by the bridegroom and 
his friends to the house of her intended husband, 
and the ceremony is performed on Sunday at mid¬ 
night 
The bride, muffled and tinselled, is conducted 
to a carpet in the middle of the saloon, where 6he 
is placed opposite to the chosen bridegroom.— 
Their right hands are joined by the officiating 
priest, and they are severally demanded whether 
they will “ love, oherish, and honor each other.”— 
The man is also asked, as he stands opposite to 
this mass of 6hawls and tinsel, " will yon take this 
girl, whether she be lame, or deaf, or humped, or 
blind,” to which he responds with due resignation, 
“even so I wilt take her.” A silken cord, twisted 
of two colors, is now tied round the head of each, 
and after a long service, reading of prayers and 
chanting, the happy pair are pronounced man and 
wife! The bride, over whose varying emotions 
during the interesting ceremonies an impenetrable 
veil was suspended, is now led by two attendants 
to a corner of a sofa, where she is temporarily en¬ 
throned on a cushion. 
The propitious moment has at last arrived, and 
the legalized husband may ascertain for himself 
the measure of charms to which he is allied,— 
While the agitated maiden sits, oppressed by 
shawls and tinsel, and internal anxiety as to the 
effect she may produce upon her future lord, he 
Blowly approaches, pale and tottering—for he has 
sworn to have her, blind or hump-backed. With 
such alternative?, even a moderate share of good- 
looks, or the mere absence of actual deformity, 
would almost constitute beauty. 
The attendants bridemaids exultingly, raise the 
veil, and the new husband ventures to take one 
look of love and admiration, in return for which 
he places a valuable ring on her finger, and slowly 
retreats to muse upon his fate, which is not often 
so deplorable, for the Armenian girls are general¬ 
ly pretty. At all events, he submits with the best 
grace, for. oniike his Mohammedal compatriots, 
he has no retrieve or door of escape, but must 
abide by his bargain " till death us do part.” The 
veil is again dropped, and the bride left to her 
own meditations. She receives presents from all 
the guests, so that the tickets of admission are no 
trivial affairs to one's pockets. 
The Sunday following, the bridegroom proceeds 
to his father-in-law’s honse, to acknowledge his 
gratitude for the possession of such a charming 
treasure, etc., all which is expressed by the cere¬ 
mony of kissing the hands of the parents of the 
maideD, and this Sunday is called, par excellence, 
the “ Kissing Sunday .” 
The Armenians were the first Christians who 
were subjugated by the Mussulmans, and as they 
were the earliest Christian subjects, they became, 
ia their mutual relations, the model or measure for 
all succeeding conquests; for the Turks, profiting 
by their first experience, ever after practiced ac¬ 
cordingly. 
The conquerors, imbned with a spirit of Isla- 
mism, added to their barbarities a system of re¬ 
ligious persecution. The cruelties which they 
committed on the inhabitants were horrible in the 
extreme. 
At last these persecutions and cruelties ceased; 
for perceiving the advantages which they might 
derive from this hardy and industrious race, and 
finding them also strong and enthusiastic in their 
faith, the persecutors moderated their religious 
ardor, and adopting a more politic course, opened 
negotiations with the Armenians, and willingly 
compromised by making them tributaries, with 
the payment of Kharadj, or poll tax, a3 recom¬ 
mended by the Koran; and by bind promises for 
the fntnre, their servitude was rendered more tol¬ 
erable. 
Besides, with the design of ruling them through 
religious prejudices, the Armenians were granted 
the privilege of being governed by one of their 
own priesthood, to whom they gave the title ot 
Poink, or Patriarch. The people being now de¬ 
prived of all civil rights, regarded this Patriarch 
as the sole bond of national unity. The Turks, on 
their part, finding it an easy policy to govern the 
mass through one individual, allowed great privi¬ 
leges to this office, and the free exercise of the 
principles of their own religion in its administra- 
tration. The power of the Patriarch was so un¬ 
limited, that he could even levy taxes, punish any 
person with the bastinado, imprison, or send into 
exile. National enthusiasm and the politic toler¬ 
ance of their conquerors, in the coarse of time, 
led the Patriarchs into the abuse of their privile¬ 
ges. Cloaked though they were under the mantle 
of religion, their despotism was not always exempt 
from impunity. For the people, long accustomed 
to regard the church apart from temporal authori¬ 
ties, could not brook such conduct iu their high 
priest, and therefore there ha3 always been a strife 
between them and the priesthood. 
The social institutions of th8 Armenians, like 
other Orientals, are very patriarchal, every man 
being a mouarch in his own family, and the chil¬ 
dren are educated to observe the greatest defer¬ 
ence and respect to their parents. No son or 
daughter ever dreams of contracting a marriage 
on their own responsibility, but the destined bride 
is selected by the mother and her friends, and is 
thankfully accepted by the happy son. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
PBECIOUS PBOMISES. 
The SB is not a promise more true, or more en¬ 
couraging to the christiaD, than that proclaimed 
by Paul to the church at Rome—" AI1 things work 
together for good to them that love God.” Not a 
single event, whether apparently propitious or ad¬ 
verse—no calamity, no sickness, no affliction, but 
shall work—and they shall ail work together—for 
the good of that man or woman who loves God. 
It is true that the afflictions and trials of the 
righteous are often many and grievous, while with 
the ango d ly it is not so; they seem no t in trouble 1 ike 
other men; but beneath the surface, beyond the 
reach of our vision, God assures us there is a se¬ 
cret history being written—angels are the histo¬ 
rians, and iu the archives of heaven are the histo¬ 
ries. Both for a season may he tossed upon the 
billows of life's troubled ocean; but let each cast 
out his fathom-lime, and the one shall soon make 
its sounding, while the other shall lengthen and 
lengthen and lengthen, finding no restiDg-place. 
If prosperity were the test of God's love, and 
happiness in this world the only good, Paul's lan¬ 
guage would be inexplicable. Abraham, who is 
the type of every Christian, being called, went out, 
not knowing whither he went, wandering in a 
strange country; but his faith taught him to look 
for “ a city which hath foundation, whose builder 
and maker is God,” 
If God sometimes surrounds his child with dark¬ 
ness, it is not all dark about him. In, through the 
golden-fringed clouds, there comes a gleam, of sun¬ 
light that sends more joy to the heart than Jloods 
of sunshine, for it is the Saekinah of God’s pres¬ 
ence, and the token of his nnforgetful love.— 
Though sometimes he may be led to say “ all these 
things are against me—there is no sorrow like unto 
my sorrow,” God may taka away his little 41 Agnes,” 
whose baby-life had interwoven itself into the very 
fibres of his own being—in an hour his heart and 
home may be made desolate; yet when the night 
of sorrow has passed away, and the bitterness of 
grief subsided, he shall bless God for the golden 
chain that binds his soul to heaven. Adversity, 
like a strong man armed, may to-day strip him of 
his earthly all; yet he will say, “the Lord lent it 
to me for a while, and now he has taken it to lend 
to another.” Sickness may overtake him on his 
journey toward the Celestial City, his eye beeome 
dimmed, his form bent, and his once stalwart f. ame 
tremble for very feebleness; yet the patient suffer¬ 
er shall look up in the face of His Father and ex¬ 
claim, “ all things shall work together for good to 
them th 3 t love God.” Paul closes up this whole 
matter, when exultingly he exclaims, “but we glory 
in tribulations also,” knowing that “tribulation 
worketh patience, and patience experience, and 
experience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed; 
because the love of God is shed abroad in our 
hearts by the Holy Spirit, which is given unto ns.” 
Rochester, Aug , 1357. S. A. E. 
The town of A 'ewstadt 
uestled at its foot, and is, notwithstanding its 
name, signifying new city, one of the oldest look¬ 
ing towns I saw in the Odenwald After this the 
whole valley as far as I followed it towards the 
Main, grew larger and more beautiful, the meadow 
lands being broader, and the picturesque moun¬ 
tains covered with a pleasing mixtures of fir, oak 
and beech forests. 
[To be continued ] 
He who who climbs Vesuvius at night, stumbling 
over the heaps ot cinders, bruising his shins, and 
scarring his hands against the rugged edges, 
would demand some higher compensation than to 
look on the dark sides of the crater-cone. He 
will rarely find it, however, unless he wait till 
dawn, or the night be bright and b tarry. We did. 
Scarcely had we sat down to rest at the foot of 
the small cone, when we observed a great excite¬ 
ment among our guides, who, by violent gesticu¬ 
lation and vociferation, indicated that they observ¬ 
ed something unnsnal in the aspect of the moun¬ 
tain, and vehemently urged a rapid descent. The 
very idea, however, of beholding even a partial 
eruption, at such a time and place, fixed ns to the 
spot ’Twas a fit night for snch a scene. The air 
was heavy and sulphureous; the sky dark and mur¬ 
ky; not a Btar shone forth iu it, and the moonlight 
fell with a faint twilight gleam on the watera of 
the bay. There were soon, signs and portents of 
a movement within. Heavings and load rum¬ 
blings were heard, as though a thunder-cloud were 
pent in the bosom of the mountain. The lava- 
etream grew live and turbid. The little wreaths 
which hang over round the edges of the crater, 
grew and gathered in one huge mass, which roar¬ 
ed and tossed as it rose and roUed swiftly on, like 
the breathing of a spirit of evil, spreading dark¬ 
ness 
and gloom around. Fiery swords of flame 
flashed through and through the smoke cloud, 
streaking but not lighting it; and these again 
were soon absorbed in one large fire, which, rush¬ 
ed, strong and fierce, from the crater's mouth, 
raging In wind hursts and wrathful gusts, coursing 
after the smoke, and making the heavens lurid 
with that strange fearful glare which the soul as¬ 
sociates with fire and doom. The roar within 
deepened, and the fire grew fiercer every moment, 
the smoke blacker and thicker; and then there 
was a sound of a torrent bursting its bounds, as 
the rushing of a mighty wind; the sweeping of a 
tornado, and forth from the mountain's depths there 
gurged floods of flame and storms of fiery balls, 
which shot meteor-like into the air, and then fell 
and rolled around us with all the force of red-hot 
Bhot Ever and anon there would be a lull, a 
smouldering; and then again the volcano would 
send up its eruptions of fire and smoke and ashes. 
Amid the grand and terrible feature of the scene 
was one which had much of beauty iu its effects. 
Ever as the mountain worked, the lava stream 
swelled and glowed, rushing from its outlet, and 
running in burning rills down the mountain Bide. 
It has been often described as Bnake-iike. No 
word images it so trnly. Its glowiDg colors have 
tho same brilliant beauty which attracts and re¬ 
pels, its motion is so gilding, and yet so swift; 
and there is a serpent fascination in it, too, which 
rivets the gaze, though the eyeballs grow hot, and 
the brain burns from contact with the molten hues. 
— Blackwood, 
Old Psalm Tunes. —There is to us more of 
touching pathos, heart thrilling expression, in 
some of the old psalm tunes, feelingly displayed, 
than in a whole batch of modernism. The strains 
go home, and “ the great deep ia broken np;” the 
great deep of unfathomable feeling, that lies far 
below the surface of the world-hardened heart; 
and as the unwonted, yet unchecked tear starts in 
the eye, the softened spirit yields to their influ¬ 
ence and shakes off the load of earthly care, rising 
purified and spiritualized into a clearer atmos¬ 
phere, Strange, inexplicable associates, brood 
over the mind, “like the far off dreams of Para¬ 
dise,” mingling their chaste melancholy with a 
musing of a still subdued though more cheerful 
character. How many glad hearts, in the olden 
time, have rejoiced in these songs of praise—how 
many sorrowful ones sighed out their complaints 
in those plaintive notes, that now, cold in death 
are laid to rest around that sacred church within 
whose walls they had so often swelled with emo¬ 
tion.— Blackwood's Magazine. 
ARMENIAN WEDDING 
A QIAN'S ANTECEDENTS 
dents? And in the less elevated grades of society, 
cases are brought under our notice daily where he 
whose past life has been questionable, taking one 
hold step up the ladder, reaches its topmost round, 
and those who once sneered at him are hut too 
anxions to treat him with respect and fawning. 
What a mam has done, or rather what he has 
left undone, or done badly, is too often the crite¬ 
rion by which his present claims to any position 
are judged. Of coarse a reference to tho past is 
unavoidable, but too many neglect the wheat while 
seeking for tho chaffy and do not see the gold for 
the dross with which It is covered. We do not be¬ 
lieve that “ queer” antecedents prevent the possi¬ 
bility of a brilliant future, and believe that more 
attention should be paid to a man's abilities, and 
what he can do with them than to the manner in 
which he may have perverted them years ago. It 
is never too late to retrieve in some measure the 
evil that may have been done, and taming a cold 
shoulder on the wrong doer is by no means the 
way to induce him to strive for atonement 
The world's history is fuU of instances where a 
proud position haa been gained by some one who 
sxood at one time a pariah in the world's gaze.— 
The wheel of fortune brings about strange things 
In Us revolutions, and the outcast of to-day often 
proves the millionaire of to-morrow — and vice 
versa. Who that admires the energy and subtlety 
of Louis Napoleon ever thinks now of his antece. 
Never Jest with Scripture. —It is of great 
importance that we should resist the temptation, 
frequently so strong, ot annexing a familiar, face¬ 
tious, or irreverent idea to a Scriptural expression, 
a Scripture text, or a Scripture name. Nor should 
we hold ourselves guiltless, though we may have 
been misled by mere negligence, or want of reflec¬ 
tion. Every person of good taste will avoid read¬ 
ing a parody, or a traveatie of a heautifol poem, 
because the recollection of the degraded like¬ 
ness will always obtrude itself upon our mem¬ 
ories when we wish to derive pleasure from the 
contemplation of the elegance of the original— 
But how much more urgent is the duty by which 
we are bound to keep the pages of the Bible clear 
of any impression tending ..to diminish^the bless¬ 
ings of habitual respect aud reverence towards 
our Maker's law.-F«/^ra»e. 
Children must do it Themselves. —If I were 
to reduce to a single maxim the concentrated wis¬ 
dom of the world, on the subject of practical edu¬ 
cation. I should enunciate a proposition, which I 
think will command your assent, but which, I fear, 
is not incorporated as it should be into the prac¬ 
tice ol' schools and families. That principle is, 
that in educating the young, you serve them most 
effectually, not by what yon do for them, hut by 
what you teach them to do for themselves. This is 
the secret of all educational development 
We talk of self-eduoation as if it were an anoma¬ 
ly. In one sense of the word, all education is 
obtained simply by the exertion of our own minds. 
And is this self-education? What does education 
mean? Not indueation.— Bishop Potter. 
A happy comment on the annihilation of time 
and space by locomotive agency, is as follows:— 
A little child who rode fifty miles in a railroad 
train, then took a coach to her uncle's house, some 
five miles farther, was asked on her arrival, if she 
came by the cars. “ We came a little ways in the 
cars, and then all the rest of the way iu a car¬ 
riage.” 
There is a sort of economy in the ways or 
Providence, that one shall excel where another is 
defective, in order to make them useful to each 
other, and mix them in society. 
The trials of life are the testa which ascertain 
how much gold there is in ns. 
There is a vile audacity which knows fear only 
from a bodily cause; none from the awe of shame. 
