****** 
DEC. 12 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
®jjf <& hunt or. 
IRREGULAR ATTENDANCE AT 8CHOOL. 
Pbw persons, except teachers, are aware of the 
evils incident to Irregularity of attendance at 
school Those having children in charge are of¬ 
ten prone to detain them at home, to perform some 
domestic labor, or to iadulge them la idleness.— 
Yet every such interruption in a course of study, 
particularly when extended to a term of days, re¬ 
quires from the pupil increased exertion to make 
good the timo and opportunities lost by absence; 
or else, iu most oases, future progress is impeded 
by the failure to master certain lessouB necessary 
to prepare for further attainment. To be sure this 
difficulty exists only, or principally where pupils 
are in classes, and required to perform regular ex¬ 
ercises. But with the modern improvements in 
the management of schools, classification, though 
often illy adapted to favor individual pupils, is 
considered imperative, as It certainly is, to the 
economy of labor and time. The pupil who does 
not keep up with his class generally becomes dis¬ 
gusted with his studies, and then fe not slow to as¬ 
sume the character of the dolt of the school. 
Eveu in the more primitive unclassified school 
the pupil who stays often at home caDuot retain 
so vivid an interest in his studies. It is natural 
to be encouraged when we make rapid advance¬ 
ment In our work, and to be dispirited when onr 
progress is almost constantly Impeded. The 
scholar that feels conscious of being behind his 
fellows is prone to become envious of them, ma¬ 
lignant and troublesome in sohool. In this way 
often it is that children acquire the reputation of 
learning mischief there which they wonld not at 
home. 
An old max ui says that “what is worth doing 
at all ia worth doing well." MoBt true is this of 
attendance at school. While a pnpil makes this 
his bnsiness he should perform it thoroughly. He 
then becomes " a whole man at it," and profioien- 
cy is the sure result. This gives him the calm as¬ 
surance of success in whatever he stall undertake. 
Moral courage, energy and serenity of mind, ele¬ 
ments of a noble and a stable cijaracter are thus 
induced; and the child becomes “father to a man ” 
-- 
THE VELOCITY OP THOUGHT. 
Prop. Silt.iman's American Journal of Science 
publishes an account, of some interesting experi¬ 
ments made by M. HelmhoJz, a Swiss gentleman, 
for the purpose ol ascertaining the rapidity with 
which thought, Iraveis from the brain to the 
nerves. By the aid of Borne ingenious mechan¬ 
ism, he was enabled to arrive at the following 
conclusions: 
Sensations are transmitted to the brain at a ra¬ 
pidity of about 180 feet per second, or at one fifth 
the rate of sound; and this is nearly the same in 
all individuals. 
The brain requires one-te> ih of a second to trans¬ 
mit its orders to the nerves which preside over 
voluntary motion; but this amount varies in dif¬ 
ferent individuals, and in the same individual at 
different times, according to the disposition or 
condition at the time, and is more regular, the 
more sustained the attention. 
The time required to transmit an order to the 
muscles, by the motor nerves, is nearly the Bame 
as that required by the nerves of sensation to pass 
a sensation; moreover, it passes nearly one-hun¬ 
dredth of a secoud before the muscles are put in 
motion. 
The whole operation requires one and a qmrter 
to two-tenths of a second. Consequently, when 
we Bpeak of an active, ardent mind, or of one that 
is slow, cold, or apathetic, it is not a mere figure 
of rhetoric, but an absolute and certain fact, that 
such a distinction, with varying gradations, really 
exists. 
BEADING ALOUD. 
Thkbb is no treat so great as to hear good read¬ 
ing of any kind. Not one gentleman or a lady in 
a hundred can read so as to please the ear, and 
Bend the words with gentle force to the heart and 
understanding. An indistinct utterance, whines, 
drones, nasal twangs, guttural notes, hesitations, 
and other vices of elocution, are almost universal. 
Why it Ip, uo one can say, nnless it be that either 
the pulpit, or the nursery, or the Sunday School, 
gives the style, iu these days. Many a lady can 
sing Italian songs with considerable execution, 
but cannot read English passably. Yet reading is 
by far.the more valuable accomplishment ot the 
two. In most drawing-roomp, if a thing is to be 
read.it is discovered that nobody can read; one 
has weak lungs, another gets hoarse, another 
chokes, another has an abominable sing song, evi¬ 
dently a tradition of the way in which he said 
Watts’ byninB when he was too young to under¬ 
stand them; another rumbles like a broad-wheel 
wagou; another has a way of reading which 
seems to proclaim that what is read is of no sort 
of consequence, and had better not be listened to. 
Our Language. —The Dublin University Maga¬ 
zine says—Dictionary English is something very 
different not only from common colloquial Eng¬ 
lish, but even from that of ordinary written com¬ 
position. Instead of about 40,000 words, there is 
probably no single author in the language from 
whose works, however voluminous, bo many as 
10,000 words could be collected. Of the 40,000 
words there are certainly many more than one- 
half that are only employed, If they are ever em¬ 
ployed at nil, on tho rarest occasions. We should 
any of us bo surprised to find, if wo counted them, 
with how small a number of words we manage to 
express all that we havu to say either with our 
lips or oven with the pen. Onr common literary 
English probably hardly extends to 10,000 words, 
our common spoken English hardly to 5,000. 
Solitude. —A certain degree of solitude seems 
necessary to the full growth and spread of the 
hlghoat mind; and, therefore, must a very exten¬ 
sive intercourse with men stille many a holy germ, 
and Bonre away tho gods, who shun the ruthless 
tumult of noisy companies and the discussion of 
petty interests. 
-- 
How often do men mistake the love of their own 
opinions for the love of truth 1 
iabtotl) Huangs. 
Tub city of Madison, an engraving of winch we 
give Rural readers this week, ia the “ County 
Seat” of Dane Co., Wisconsin, and the Capital of 
that thrifty Western State. Tnia beautiful place 
is emphatically a creationof modern times. Prom 
what we have been able to glean concerning its 
early history, we should infer that the government 
of the State selected the site while it was yet “in 
the woods," for we read that "in .Tune 1837, the 
contractor, with forty men and five femties, ar¬ 
rived here, having in eleven days cut their way 
through the wilderness from Milwaukee, (about 
80 miles,) and commenced the building of the 
Capitol." Ihe growth of the city m *y he dated 
from 1841, at which period visible signs of “pro¬ 
gress and improvement” became apparen’, and 
though Madison cannot lay claim to so rapid an 
increase as western cities are generally noted for, 
it can say, what may in the end prove better, that 
VIEW OF THE CITY OF MADISON 
its prosperity is substantial. The population in 
1855 was nearly seven thonsacd. 
The city is located upon a peninsula between 
the Third and Fourth lake of the chain called the 
Pour Lakes, on a gentle swell of ground, from 
••-••iiich there is a regular descent each way to the 
water. Mendo'a, or Fourth Lake, upon the upper 
side of the city, is about six miles by four in area. 
Third Lake is somewhatsmaller: both are exceed¬ 
ingly picturesque watera, deep enough for steam¬ 
boat navigation. The streets are regularly laid 
out, with a Central Square, in which stands the 
State Hoaee—a spacious stone edifice, two stories 
shove tae basement, with a handsome dome— 
which c an be seen for many miles in any direction. 
This square contains fourteen acres, embellished 
with native forest trees. One mile west from 
“Capitol Hill," in a park of fifty acres, axe the 
buildings of the University of Wisconsin. The 
University was founded in 1848, and opened on the 
17th Sept., 1851. 
Madison being the centre of the railroad system 
of Wisconsin, and surrounded by one of the rich¬ 
est agricultural regions in the State, cannot do 
aught else than prosper. While the “universal 
Yankee may be said to steadfastly believe in the 
doctrine of utilitarianism—keeping ever a keen 
look-out for the main chance—he can here unite 
the useful with the beantifal, utile duld: “for,” 
says a writer on American landscapes, “Madison, 
per- aps, combines and overlooks more charming 
and diversified scenery than 6ny other town in the 
West, or than any other State Capital in theUn'on. 
Its high takes, fresh groves, rippling rivulets, 
shedy dales, and flowery meadow '.awns, are com¬ 
mingled in greater profusion, and disposed in 
mo e picturesque order than we have elsewhere 
beheld.’’ 
MATHEMATICS. 
If there is anything in the world that resembles 
the ladder which the patriarch saw in vision, along 
which, forma of light and truth did come and go 
through all the night, it ia Mathematics. By it we 
creep up round after round, out of the dust of thiH 
great cemetery, and descend with torch-like 
truths that blazed around the throne; the burning 
lamps that light the legislative chamber of the 
Infinite. 
Where they curb the mountain spring; where 
they put a nerve of thought into the bosom of the 
eea; where they make the gray canvas glow with 
the twilight sky, or fling a spidery web amid the 
clonds and thunders of Niagara, there you will 
find Mathematics. 
One moment it gauges tho d-'W-drop, that satel¬ 
lite of sod, and the next, measures the star-beam 
that shines in it; now we find it guiding the 
painter’s hand as he parts with his pencil, the 
blank, unbroken wall, and lets in a cleft of heaven 
and a break of day; and now the dialect of Na¬ 
ture’s court, wherein her lawB are rendered and 
preserved. 
If any gift of prophecy remains upon the earth, 
sure we are, that it baa passed from the poet to 
the mathematician. How much “at home” he 
walks along the centuries to come; how he fore¬ 
tells the shadow that shall fall ou your forgotten 
grave and ours, and marks the wanderings of 
gipsey worlds amid the bright encampment of the 
sky. 
The anatomy of mathematics is whal we oftenest 
see; bat this is to clothe it with its own wardrobe 
of life and beauty.— It, F. Tailor. 
The Dollar Mark [$].—Writers are not agreed 
as to the derivation of the sign to represent dol¬ 
lars. Some say that it comes from the letters U. 
8., after the adoption of the Federal currency, and 
which atterwards, in the hurry of writing, were 
run into one another, the U being made first and 
the S over it Others say that it is derived from 
the contraction of the Spanish word pesos, “do'- 
lars;” others, from the Spanish fades, “ hard," to 
distinguish silver from paper money. Tho more 
probable explanation is, that it is a modification 
of the figure 8, and denotes a piece of eight reals, 
or, as the dollar was formerly called, a piece of 
eight. It was then designated by the figures 8-8. 
—Dictionary of Americanisms. 
-- 
Resolution is almost omnipotent. It was well 
observed by a heathen moralist, that it is not be¬ 
cause things are difficult that we dare not under¬ 
take them. Be bold then in spirit. Indulge do 
doubts—they are traitors. In the practical pursuit 
of our high aim, let us never lose sight of it in 
tho slightest instance; for it is more by disregard 
of small thiugs than by open and flagrant offences 
that mon come short or excellence. There is al¬ 
ways a right and a wrong, and if you ever doubt, 
be sure you t3ke not the wrong. Observe this 
rule, and every experience will be to you a means 
of advancement. 
Practical Education.— There is no greater 
want of the present day, than that onr experienced 
teaohers should give through the medium of the 
press, their modes of teaching, and illustrating the 
various sciences, in order that beginners iu the 
profession may he furnished with a safe guide to 
success. Experience can sometimes be attained 
without experiment, which with the tyro, is at best 
dangerous to his own and his pupils’ future. 
. 
The School Committee of Boston have re¬ 
cently forbidden the assignment of lessons for 
study, out of school, in the grammar school for 
girls. This action was taken at the instance of the 
city physician, who, after giving his attention to 
the subject, had become convinced of alarming 
consequences resulting from such studies — cases 
of broken constitutions, ieebloness, insanity and 
death. 
ANECDOTE OF TELEGRAPHING. 
Thk following is told in a recent Lon.on letter: 
—“1 think the mo3t curious fact that I have ever 
heard of the electric telegraph, W33 told me by the 
cashier of the Bank of England. 'Once upon a 
time,* then, on a certain Saturday night, the folks 
at the bank could not make the balance come out 
correct by just £ 100. This is a very Bcrious mat¬ 
ter In that little establishment I do not mean the 
cash, bat the mistake iu arithmetic, for it requires 
a world of scrutiny. An error in balancing, I am 
told, has kept a delegation of clerks from each 
office at work sometimes the whole night A hue 
and cry was of course made after this £100, as it 
the uld lady in Tbreadneedle street would be in 
the Gazette for want of it Luckily, ou Sunday 
morning, a clerk (in the middle of a sermon, I 
dare say, if the troth was known,) felt a suspicion 
of the truth flash through his mind quicker ihan 
any flash of the telegraph itself. He told the chief 
eajhler that perhapB the mistake might bave oc¬ 
curred in packing some boxes of specie for tne 
West Indies, which had been sent to Southampton 
for shipment The suggestion was immediately 
acted upon. Here was a race, lightning against 
steam! steam with eight and forty hours ihe start 
Instantly the wires asked, ' Whether such a vessel 
bad lelt the harbor?’ ‘Just weighed anchor,’ was 
the reply. ‘ Stop her 1’ lrantically shouted the tel¬ 
egraph. It was so done. 1 Heave up on deck cer¬ 
tain boxes maiked so and so; weigh them care¬ 
fully. ’ They were weighed; and one—the delin¬ 
quent—was found heavier by just one packet of a 
hundred sovereigns than it outfit to he. ‘Let her 
go,’ said the mysterious telegraph. The West In¬ 
dia folks were debted with just £100 more, and the 
error was corrected without ever looking into the 
boxes or delaying the voyage an hoar. Now that 
is what we call doing business.” 
NAPOLEON. 
Tub mind of Napoleon w^s vast; but after the 
manner of the Orientals; and through a oontra- 
diotoiy disposition, it descended, as it were, hy the 
Effect ot its own weight, to details which m ght 
justly be called low. His first idea was always 
grand, and his secend me m and petty. His mind 
was like bis parse; munificence and me.ii uesa 
.leld each a string. His genius, which was once 
adopted to the stage of the world, and the inoonte. 
Lank's show, resembled a royal robe joined to a 
harlequin’s jacket. Endowed with wonderful and 
luiinlte shrewdness; glittering with wit; seizing 
or creating in every question new and uuperceived 
relations; abounding in lively and picturesque 
images, animated and pointed expressions, the 
more forcible from the very incorrectness of his 
language, which always bore » sort of foreign im¬ 
press, sophistical, subtle, and changeable to ex¬ 
cess,—he adopted different rules of optics from 
those by which other men are guided. Add to 
tbis the Geliiium of excess, the habit of drinking 
from the enchanted cup, and intoxicating himselt 
with ihe incense of the world; and you may form 
au idea of the man who, uniting iu his caprices all 
that is lofty and mean iu the human character, 
majestic In the splendor of sovereignty, and per¬ 
emptory in command, with all that is Ignoble and 
base, even In his grandest achievements, joining 
the treacherous ambush to the subversion of 
throne—presauts altogether such Jupiter Scapin, 
as never before figured on the scene of life.— Abbe 
dt Pradt, 
To be born at tho neighbor’s; to sit iu the twi¬ 
light ol an alien; to love tho vine that stranger 
hands have trained, Is the lot of more than half 
the world. Happy Is he who can trace the far- 
apart threads of lives that are lovely, till they all 
converge in some dear beginning of living and 
loving. Let those threads be gossamer, floating 
ever so lightly on the summer wind, if only they 
are fastened there; let that beginning be or the 
humblest, If only it be my home and yours; if only 
it be “ oars," and “ theirs.” 
WIT AND SENTIMENT. 
Tub only way to be thought to be anything is to 
be it. 
These is an alchemy in a high heart which 
transmutes other things to its own quality. 
Why Is an overloaded gun like an office-holder? 
Because it kicks mightily when it is discharged. 
Brave actions are the Bubstance of life, and 
good sayings the ornament of it 
Thk trials of life are the tests which ascertain 
bow ranch gold there is in ns. 
A discontented FAMrLY — Poverty, Pride and 
laziness. 
Why is a person approaching a candle like a 
man getting off his horse? Because he is going 
to a light 
A man out west advertises a wild badger by 
placard, as follows:—“A Badger from the Rooca 
Mounting—etes rats, et cetery.” 
A question has been raised, in one of our courts 
whether a blind man can be made liable for a bill 
payable af sight. The lawyers are puzzled. 
Ir may seem strange, but It is a fact, that men 
generally are much more alraid of women, than 
women are of men; and fearing to “ break the ice” 
is a trnitfnl cause of old bachelorism. 
Fomk people have a fashion of thinking that the 
truth ia a species of dull tomahawk, and that its 
efficiency is precisely proportioned to its power of 
mangling. 
When a certain bankrupt crossed the English 
Channel to avoid his creditors, George Selwyn 
remarked that it was a pass over whioh wonld not 
be relished by the Jews. 
Thb Philadelphia Gazette, speaking of a new 
prima donna says:—“ Her voice ia as soft as a roll of 
velvet, and as tender as a pair of slop shop panta¬ 
loons.” 
The sage relishes what is without savor. He 
avenges the injuries he receives by benefits. He 
begins by easy things, when he meditates difficult 
things; by small things, when he meditates great. 
A lady leaving home was thus addressed by her 
little boy:—“ Mamma, will you remember, and buy 
me a penny whistle? and let it be a religious one, 
that. I can use it on Sunday.” 
A woman his suggested that when men break 
their hearts, it is the same as when a lobster breaks 
one of hi* claws—another sprouting immediately 
and growing in its place. 
The Louisville Journal says:—“A Virginia edi¬ 
tor tells abont a prodigious calf he saw at ‘the 
Springs.’ The editor was probably drinking 
from one of the springs when he discovered the 
prodigy.” 
The age is becoming more refined. “ Root hog 
or die," ia now rendered as follows: “Penetrate 
the subsoil, my porcine friend, or early expect an 
obituary notice on your untimely demise." 
A rich officer of reveuue one day asked a man 
of wit what sort of a thing opulence was. “It Is 
athing," replied the philosopher, "which can give 
a rascal the advantage over an honest man.” 
In proportion as men are real coin, and not 
counterfeit, they scorn to enjoy credit for what 
tiiey have not. "Paint me,” said Cromwell, 
“wriuklea and alL” Even on canvas the great 
hero despised falsehood. 
Raldu Waldo Emerson speaks, in his “Repre¬ 
sentative Men,” as follows of Napoleon: “He was 
a thief. He was rude in the extreme. He pinched 
ladies’ checks. He listened to hear others’ secrets. 
He peeped through keyholes.” 
Tuky build no Pyres now, that waiting not for 
the slow, crumbling processes of time, seraph like 
did waft the body back to the free air again, on 
crimion wings of flame. The little that remains— 
a handful of mere dust—is gathered in an urn. It 
might have held a flower that laded there and 
died. There is uothing to appal; a graceful thing 
it staudB, wreathed round with flowers; a solemn 
monitor; the empty goblet of the life we live! 
For Moore’s Kara! New-Yorker. 
THE SPIRIT-LAND. 
Oft bave I gazed open the heaven's blue tide, 
When brilliant day and gable night divide; 
When Pbrebas, sinking ‘mid the western light. 
Made tower and moan tain mystically bright. 
While aa new vistas open'd to my view, 
The glorious scene unto my fancy grew 
So bright, so beautiful, so sweetly grand. 
It seemed the path *ay to the Spirit-Land. 
See, where yon arch of heaven's resplendent bine. 
Assumes a deeper ami a bi ighter hue; 
Here purple shades increasing beauty throw 
O’er the calm water? and the mountain’s brow; 
With soften’d lustre fields of crimson gleam. 
Catching new radiance from the sun's last beam, 
That sinking now. majestically grand. 
Points to the boundary of the Spirit-Land. 
Here rosy light adorns he fieecy clonds— 
“ Day’s latest draperies and the son's rich shrouds;” 
What wonderoaa beantv crowns th* glowing west, 
As golden hues illumes its sparkling breast, 
While even as they fl ish upon the eye 
In dee| er tints their colors gently die; 
Where all is bright, and beautiful ,and grand, 
Behold the pathway to the Spirit-Land. 
Far, far beyond the lodging, wondered gaze, 
The dazzling glories ot Tijs Unknown blaze — 
And yet it seems—and ohl it must be so; 
From The Eternal's throne these splendors flow— 
Aye, see the gates of massive pearl unfold; 
See the pure water- and the streets of gold— 
Now on the eye, while floods of light expand, 
Behold the entrance to the Spirit-Landt 
And list ye nowl How the enraptured ear 
Bends, he sweet sound of that glad song to hear; 
Hark! The loved voices of the dead are there, 
And purer breathe they in a pnrer air. 
O, happiness divioel forever blest! 
Is this the dawn of an eternal reel: 
How bright, how beautiful, how sweetly grand. 
The glorious entrance to the Spirit-Landt 
Alas! 'Lb earth again; the dream ia past; 
Twas far too heave oly on earth to last: 
While mortal scenes fail on a mortal eye. 
Such dreams to realize, who would not die? 
Who would not leave each worldly hope behind. 
And strive the heaven of the blest to find; 
With naught of fear by death’s dark river stand, 
And die to live again—live in the Spirit-Land. 
Mexico, N. Y, 185". Ro3slia. 
-- 
“SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES.*’ 
Thbre is a great difference between reading and 
searching the Scriptures. There have been, sad 
still are many, that read mach; but our knowledge 
of divine truth depends more upon the manner we 
read, than upon the quantity. Dr. Gouge, it ia 
Baid, read fifteen chapters a day; Jeremiah Whit- 
tiker read ail the Epistles of the New Testament 
in Greek, every week; and Roger Cotton read the 
whole Bible through twelve times every year. 
This rapid reading of the Bible is not the most 
profitable. I have beeu impressed of late, more 
than ever, with the necessity of “meditating in 
the law ol’ the Lord," of pausing and reflecting 
upon the portions we read, of looking at it from 
different stand-points, till we are snre we have be¬ 
fore our minds the precise idea the Holy Spirit 
meant to convey. We should consider when the 
passage under consideration W3S written, by whom 
to whom addressed, and for what purpose. 
By searching the Scriptures carefully, by com¬ 
paring parallel texts, and similar facts, a person 
can hardly fail of becoming deeply interested in 
the contents of the sacred volume. We shall sym¬ 
pathize with David, who said, “ How sweet are thy 
words unto my taste, yea, sweeter than honey to 
my mouth.” 
By studying the Bible, rather than reading it, the 
mind la stored with ideas, the conscience is en¬ 
lightened, and each single thought is kept before 
the mind long enough to prodace an impression. 
Pastor-, and Sabbath School teachers should take 
painB to instruct those under their charge, now to 
read the Bible so aa to derive the most benefit 
from it 
If the Bible wa3 studied, instead of being rap¬ 
idly read, I have no doubt it would be, much often- 
er than it is, like the fire and the hammer which 
breaketh the rock in pieces.— Puritan Recorder. 
Judging Others.— “Don’t judge others by your¬ 
self," is a common warning; and yet the advice is 
generally nugatory. Unconsciously every man 
judges of others rather as his own nature sug¬ 
gests, than by the real character of the man he 
judges. One may see this in the theological 
creeds. The cruel man esteems his Maker to be 
as violent and vindictive as himself, and wonld not 
believe him to be God, if he were otherwise. The 
benevolent and mild tempered man, on the con¬ 
trary, sees in the Deity a merciful and benignant 
Father. The worshiped Divinity of all nations, 
represents to a degree the peculiar traits and tem¬ 
pers of those nations. u Voltaire," saya a writer 
in Blackwood, “thought he was looking through a 
handsome French window at God and the universe, 
whe_ in troth the glass was a mirror, and he saw 
and copied only hia own scoffing face.” 
Tub saint seeks not to do great things; for that 
reason he can accomplish great things. He who 
thinks many things easy is sure to encounter nu¬ 
merous difficulties. Hence it happens that the 
saint who esteems everything difficult, encoun¬ 
ters no difficulty to the end of his life. 
When we send the dove ol prayer to heaven, it 
brings back an olive branch in its mouth. We 
must send prayer before, as a harbinger to bespeak 
a blessing. Do men think the tree of blessing will 
drop its trait into their mouth, when they never 
shake it by prayer?— Warren, 
If He prayed, who was without sin, how much 
more Is the sinner bound to pray? And if He > 
watching through the whole night, prayed with 
continued supplications, how much more ought 
we, night and day, to watch in frequent prayer?— 
St. Cyprian. 
- 4 - 
It is not gTeat wealth, nor high station, which 
makes a man happy. Many of the most wretched 
beings on earth have both. Bat it is a radian^ 
aunny spirit, which knows how to bear little trials 
and to epjoy little comforts, and which thus ex¬ 
tracts happiness from every incident of life. 
