represented Adam as created at sunrise to go forth 
and labor amid tbe glories of the day, and Eve as 
created at sunset, amid the quiet and gentle glories 
of the night. 
It is said the woman was created more for ornament. 
In that we agree. But the barderthe steel the brighter 
the polish. Thus the more solid and useful the attain¬ 
ments, the more susceptible of refinement and love 
liness. May not the arts that are often made the 
study of a lifetime by the opposite sex be of equal 
value to her? Does not the witchery of music per¬ 
vade her being? May she hope to solve the raysteiy 
of the canvass? Can she not compete for laurels 
with the artist, whose life is only another name for 
beauty? Whatever her tastes and pursuits may be, 
she court* the approbation of her teacher and leader, 
man. Some particular star is ever guiding her along 
the pathway of life, variable itmay be, yet it remains 
in her shy of destiny, sometimes threatening to with¬ 
hold the light of her life, and again shedding a luster 
that wakes earth a paradise of enjoyment, 
rfabimondsport, N. V., 1861 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
WISDOM OF YOUNG AMERICA 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
RETROSPECTIVE. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
LIFE. 
Ik the still and quiet chamber 
There's an empty cradle bed, 
With a print upon the pillow 
Of a baby 's shining head 
Tis a Tair and dainty cradle; 
Downv, soft, the pillows white 
But within the blankets folded 
lies no little form to night. 
Once the mother sat beside it 
When the day was growing ditu 
And her pleasant, voice was singin 
Soft and low, a cradle hymn 
Now, there k no more need of sin. ng, 
When the evening shadows ere*' 
For the cradle-tied is empty, 
And the baby gone to sleep. 
Little bead that Used to nestle 
In the pillows white and soft; 
Little hands, whose restless fingers, 
Folded them In dreams so oft; 
Lips we pressed with fondest kisses. 
Eyes we praised for purest ray, 
Underneath the church yard daisies 
They have bid yon all away. 
Ah, the empty, useless cradle! 
Wo will put it out of sight, 
Lest our hearts should grieve loo soi elv 
For the little one to night. 
We will think how safe forever, 
In the bettor fold above, 
That young Iamb for which we sorrow, 
Restetb now in Jesus’ love. 
BT CARLIK MAVNB 
I T nor oil 7 in life’s bright spring 
That sorrow’s cloud my way would darken never, 
That friendship’s flowers, instead of withering. 
Would live forever. 
I gathered bright, heart flowers, 
Which, like the stars that gem the sky above us. 
Are sent to light thene saddened hearts of ours, 
To light, to loyjj us. 
One was a priceless pearl; 
I called it love, Twas near rne morn and even. 
With azure eye, rose cheek, and sunny curl, 
The gift of heaven. 
Tbe present knew no gloom; 
The future blighting rare seemed not to cumber; 
And joy-Ugbts, dantingU, my life’s far tomb, 
I could not number. 
Earth seemed a Paradise, 
And all were angels sentfrom heaven to grace it, 
86 fair, so beautifal,— oh, why did vice 
At all deface itf 
But life’s glad -jiriug went by, 
Aud summer came with all its golden glory; 
The birds of friendship ifluig, sod heaven saw I, 
Around, before me. ■ 
Os yonder mossy bank a violet blooms, 
Filling the morning air with rich perfume,— 
It opened with the morn, and died at noon. 
A dewdrop glistens on a rose’s breast, 
The gen tic zephyrs lulling it to rest; 
But when the Min shines waruj, its life is past. 
A paper boat is launched upon a stream, 
Its Bnowy sails a moment brightly gleam, 
Then it has vanished, like a passing dream, 
A glorious rainbow decks the summer sky, 
Sweet bow of promise sent to cheer the eye. 
Tis faded when the rain storm has passed by. 
So man a few brief years may tread life’s Bbore; 
But soon the sonl shall burst its prison door, 
And we shall walk earth's sunny vales no more. 
Ashtabula, Ohio, 1861. 
Li.viu Bknxett 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker,] 
NEW ENGLAND FARMER’S HOMES 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
A WORLD OF CHANGE. 
ties of life. Nature is not ho lavish of her gifts that 
they- are to he had for the asking; her brightest 
treasures are to be won only by untiring labor. This 
the farmer learns by experience. His life, as a 
general thing, is not calculated to soften down the 
ruggedness of his nature, (a nature that is partially 
forced upon him by this mode of life,) unless some 
refining Influence be exerted in hist home. 
A farmer’s home should be rendered as attractive 
as that of the merchant or professional man. His 
own Interest and the well being of his family 
demand It. '1 he neglect of this, !h one great i-eason 
why so many farmers’ boys and girls, too,—the very 
strength and flower of New England,—are yearly 
emigrating to the Far West, there to build up new 
Stales, and new homes, far more beautiful than those 
they have left. 
It is generally conceded, I am aware, that the neat 
white house, overshadowed by stately trees, is the 
type of New England farm houses. In the vicinity 
of our populous villages this is so; but outside of 
this, where tbe nreessities of society do not actually 
demand it, the ease is usually different. Tt is not 
always the lack of means that gives such a bleak, 
desolate look to these isolated dwellings; for there 
My burdened .lyre be hu»bed! 
le I sing, sad thoughts are coming 
r ox » mu; x sing, sau uiouglits are coming ever, 
Like fallen spirits that, by grief heart crushed, 
Are joyous never' *'*” 
trilling on the balmy air are hushed by the Angel 
1 whose mission is to Beal the lips, close the expres¬ 
sive eyes, still the restless limbs, gather the departed 
souls, and bear them to Him who made them. To¬ 
day you see the maiden with the flush of health 
mantling her cheek, the light, quick step, and the 
j hopeful trusting heart of youth. To-morrow that 
cheek is blanched, that footfall meets not your ear, 
that heart quickens not its boating at your approach, 
for Death called her, and you lay the new sleeper 
down to rest. To-day yon press the hand of man¬ 
hood, you look in the beaming eye, yon brush the 
hair from the broad brow, you twine the arms lovc- 
ingly around the neck, you listen to accents of 
tenderness, and you weave for yourself a happy, 
golden future. To-morrow the hands are folded, the 
light from the beaming eye has gone out, the hair 
is smoothly combed back, the lips return not ydur 
fond pressure, the golden fabric you wove is rent. 
With an anguish of which you never dreamed, you 
see him lowered down, down, to bis earth-bed, and 
you turn away only to know yonr heart lies burled 
also. To-day you barken to the old raan’B tremu¬ 
lous voice. Age has whitened his locks, deepened 
many Hues on his chock, but a smile lurks in his 
nndimmed eye, quiet happiness sits on the throne Of 
his heart. His mind reverts to youth, and be relates 
with animation some Incident of that period in whtch 
he was a participator. Perhaps it is his first battle. 
IT is picture is so vividly drawn that you seem to hedr 
the clashing of steel .and the roar of artillery, the 
clatter of horses’ feet and the intermingling of voices 
as each party gives its orders. To-morrow you 
vainly wait for the words to flow, for the hand to bo 
laid softly on your head. Death's signet sits upon 
the lips of your grandfather, and with a sad heart you 
yield him to its embrace. 
To-day you leave the home of childhood. The 
changes which have been are barely perceptible, be¬ 
cause you flaw chBiigr.a With them. To morrow tow 
return. Perhaps you may meet here and there a 
familiar form, but the many are strangers. You 
man to all intents and purposes, and therefore he 
shaves and anoints desperately to acquire the one, 
and treasures up his loose change to Invest in the 
other. Having secured these indispensable prelim¬ 
inaries, he takes his place, without the least hesita¬ 
tion, in the ranks of manhood, especially if he can 
boast the additional accomplishment of chewing and 
smoking. As soon as he arrives at an age In which 
the mind is most susceptible of improvement, he 
wisely concludes that he has become too old to 
attend school, and that it is more befitting a young 
gentleman, such as he is, to fall in love like On. Pi .ah 
witli some romantic maiden, or else drive fast horses, 
play cards, and indulge occasionally in a glass of 
something stronger than nature’s beverage. 
It seems to us that Young America could find a 
better way of displaying his wisdom than in the 
modes specified above. Let him pause and consider 
Hidden Valo, 1861 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE DRESS QUESTION: 
LINDA " 
ine unknown reiormer is growing more specific. 
He says “fashionable women," instead of “American 
women, which distinction is quite pacifying, since it 
enables us to define our own position. 
As women generally possess a fondness for dress, 
and nearly all approach as near the latest styles as 
their means will ullow, the term “fashionable” has 
an extensive application. One would think, to read 
irom tne glare ot the Rummer sun, or protect them 
from the fierco winds Of winter, it is not the lack of 
time, cither, that, prevents farmers, wives cultivating 
dowers arid shrubs enough to bring at least a portion 
of Don’t! blessed sunlight of cheerfulness around the 
most dreary dwelling. It, cannot be from motives of 
economy that the front gate is off its hinges, and 
each wandering cow or horse passes in and out at 
will. Vet, oftentimes, these unsightly buildings arc 
owned by farmers who have a due regard for the 
comfort of their stock, and the management of their 
farm, owned by men who would he indignant if it 
was but hinted that the comfort of their favorite 
horse or sheep eugrosaed more of their time and 
attention than the welfare of their family,—by men 
wliOBe bills for tobacco and other extras do not sur¬ 
prise them in tiie least; hut if new paper for u. inom, 
oi white drapery t&t a Window, is spoken of, then 
financial ruin stare* them iu the face. This class of 
people mw neither few nor small. Almost every town 
termed uieir tooimnness when young, and sigh 
over the mistaken fondness of parents, and indul¬ 
gence of teachers, which caused them to struggle 
through life, hampered by the defects of their early 
education, disheartened by the future, and mourn¬ 
fully recalling the sadly neglected past. There is 
much truth in the trite maxim, “ Young folks think 
old folks are fools, but old folks know young folks to 
be so,” and we would seriously commend it to the 
attention of our fast youug friends. It is rather 
humiliating, to be sure, but then we must remember 
that it is the consciousness of inferiority, and the 
desire of excellence, which lead to persevering ex¬ 
ertions and final triumph, and that the indispensable 
preliminary of making our young friend apply him¬ 
self to the pursuit of true wisdom, is a settled 
conviction of his want of that desirable possession. 
Therefore, if he is really wise, he will neglect no 
opportunity of improvement, remembering that he 
has but one life to live,— only one season of youth 
to improve or waste. A very few years will show 
who are the wise ones, and indeed it requires no 
miraculous power to be able to point them out now. 
Will they be the indolent, the easc-lovinir. and last 
passed? What changes. Old friends gone, and new 
luces all about me. A glance in the mirror reveals 
to you the fact that you, too, have changed. The 
youthful, erect form you carried away is beading; the 
smooth, placid brow has many furrows it did net 
then wear; the glossy hair has threads of gray; a 
look of care wreathes itself around your temples. 
Yon have assumed the mother crown, and you wear 
its laurels with a quiet dignity. You are astonished, 
and a strange mixture of thoughts take possession of 
your mind, as you survey yuiirself in the mirror of 
time, aud repeat, a world of change Is this. 
Change is one of Heaven's mandates, I know, but 
when I think it has invaded my home, and left there 
its impress,—when 1 think of the Hues thickly and 
deeply engraved on my mother’s forehead,—of the 
silver threads which cluster around and shade my 
father's brow, of my sister and brother, who long 
since Stepped across the threshold of Time, — of an¬ 
other fondly eberished sister, now deformed for life,_ 
of the scattered members of our circle,—the tears well 
up and fall like rain-drops from my eyes, and I am 
sad, unspeakably sad, and only the thought. “ He 
doeth all things well,” assuages or soothes my grief. 
There is a world where change never enters,— 
where there is no restless longings for the dear oneB 
gone,—where tbe weary, aching heart is lulled to rest 
on the bosom of Cukist. Iu that wdrld may it be 
my happy lot, when Death touches my heartstring, to 
find a welcome reception. Katy. 
Genoa, N, Y., 1861. 
remaps our unknownYreformet would preach 
“moderation” unto all “women,” but does he not 
know that the word is obsolete?£;i'eople don’t settle 
down on medium ground|nown-dayH. They hurry, 
and crowd, and jostle along the’Jgreat highway of 
lire, each one anxious to outstrip his fellow in pur¬ 
suit of riches, lashion, fame, and power, knowing 
there is always plenty ol room in that far-off region of 
Eureka, that is only gniued by real heroes who lean 
on their own stall; keeping right before the mental 
vision what Poor Richard says about Providence 
helping those who help themselves. 
It is said “you write no books.” Don't for the 
world let any one know yon ever dreamed your 
destiny was “undeveloped in un inkstand,” or you’ll 
be dubbed a “ Blue Stocking.” You are ridiculed 
for your superficial attainments, yet among the scores 
of inslituliona iu this republican nation, how many 
are there where you can compete for as thorough a 
collegiate course as the opposite sex. Greek roots 
are not deemed proper food for yonr mental diges¬ 
tion. \ our miud is expected to acquire the requisite 
light and the flowers. Make your home so'bright 
and cheerful that your family will think it the 
brightest place in the “ wide, wide world.” Make it 
a place to be remembered in after years by your 
children, as the nursery of their truest principles and 
highest hopes,—a place that shall be enshrined in 
their memory as the truest type of what a home 
should be. Then, perchance, in the future it shall be 
sung of our homes, ns England's gifted one sung of 
hers,— a song that has hallowed them forever. 
“ The cottage homes of England, 
By thousands on her plains, 
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks 
And round t he hamlet fanes. 
Through gloving orchards forth they peep, 
F.ach from its nook of leaves, 
And fearless there the lowly sleep 
As a bird beneath her eaves. 
Success makes Enemies.— They who are eminently 
successful in business, or who achieve greatness, or 
even notoriety in any pursuit, must expect to make 
enemies. So prone to selfishness, to petty jealousy 
and sordid envy, is poor human natnre, that whoever 
becomes distinguished is sure tube a mark for the 
malicious spite of those who, not deserving success 
themselves, are galled toy the merited triumph of the 
more worthy. Moreover, the opposition which origin¬ 
ates in such despicable motives, is sure to be of the 
most unscrupulous character; hesitating at no 
iniquity, descending to the shabbiest littleness. Op¬ 
position, if it be honest and manly, is not in itself 
undesirable. The competitor iu life’s struggle who 
is of the true metal, deprecates not opposition of an 
honorable character, but rather rejoices in it. It is 
only injustice or meanness which he deprecates and 
despises; and it is this which the successful must 
meet, proportioned iu bitterness, oft-times, to the 
measure of success which excites it. 
Kkepinu tue Sabbath. — God is revered by the 
services which multitudes pay him, and delight to 
pay him, on the Sabbath, as they take an offering and 
come into his courts. We look upon these Sabbath 
gatherings over all the land, as the evidence of a 
deep-seated, far-rearching piety, which clings to the 
arm of God aH the nation’s only fortress aud refuge. 
They are the exponent of a devotional sentiment 
which the world cannot smother or repress. They 
are a hopeful sign A good, present and future, 
springing from the Literal hand of a Father who loves 
to pour benefaction* dowu in answer to the adoration 
of beseeching sohJS- And so long as the Sabbath is 
observed in its ategrity, we will not tremble for the 
safety of the -*rk either of our religious or civil 
liberties. / 
And green forever be the groves, 
And bright the Uowerv sod. 
Where first the child’s glad spirit loves 
Its country and its God.” 
Rutland Co., Vt.. 1861. Mrs. 
Expression of Dress. — Wo men are more like 
flowers than we think. In their adornments they ex¬ 
press their natures, as the flowers do in their petals 
and colors. Some women are like the modest daisies 
and violets; they never feel better than when dressed 
in a morning wrapper. Others are not themselves 
unless they can flame out in gorgeous dyes, like the 
tulip or blush rose. Who has not seen women just 
like lilies? We know several marigolds aud poppies. 
There are women fit only for velvets, like the dahlias; 
others are graceful and airy, like azaleas. Now and 
then yon sec hollyhocks and sunflowers. When wo¬ 
men arc free to dress as they like, uncontrolled by 
others, and not limited by their circumstances, they 
do not fail to express their true characters, and dress 
becomes a form of expression very genuine and 
has witnessed. Are these to be crushed out, to be 
buried in oblivion? Are the hopes which the lovers 
of Freedom throughout the world have chirisked, to 
be frustrated forever? Instead of being the admi¬ 
ration of even the opponents of Republicanism 
throughout Christendom, are we to become their 
jeer f Are our national sinB soon to meet retributive 
justice? Ah! we are wedded to guilt, and in the 
blindness of passion permitted to raise a suicidal 
hand? The first stride in our national decadence 
seems already taken. Said the immortal Wehsisr, 
“ I desire not to behold what is behind the enrtaifi of 
Disunion.” But that curtain is now lifting, hpd 
beyond, the distant horizon reveals the dark waps 
of the Stygian waters, Abt My Country! m 
loved, my glorious Country! Must thou be plunge* J 
beneath those inky billows? Must the sad words — 
“Sit transit gloria mundi,” be said of thee? May- 
Almighty God avert the threatened fate. 
Sumner, Iowa, 1861. .HAnaiBT M. Griffith. 
The Lo'£ of Gold. —The treasure of some men is 
gold, anyne love of it grows so strong as to become 
idolatry 5 - Such men never rise above the merest 
drudg-/y in the world. They eat and drink, but it is 
to ejfble them successfully to toil on. Morning, 
no'O. and night, it is the same drudging slavery and 
scission to the cravings of a vicious appetite, 
ihere is not one noble sentiment or feeling can live 
in their heart, because the lust of gain fills it so com¬ 
pletely as to leave no room for anything else. They 
can do nothing but grovel, like an earth-worm, eat¬ 
ing dust, and casting out their slime, in orderto form 
a pathway along which to crawl. It is pitiable and 
sad to think of, but it is a sight only too often seen 
iu this sin stricken world of ours. 
I have known a goad old man, who, when he 
heard of any one that had committed some notorious 
offence, was wont to say within himself, “He fell 
to-day, so I may to-morrow.” — Bernard. 
The law should be to the sword what JP® handle 
is to the hatchet: it should direct theyotroke and 
temper the force. / 
