Ihavc6een intimate acquaintance^ aye, and 
professed friends, clasp bauds after or before a 
separation, 60 fashionably cold and formal, as to 
put to shame the very namt of friendship. They 
had schooled thcmselres to think etiquette 
would be outraged by any ahowof feeling in this 
respect. 1 say thrust this kind of etiquette out 
of doors! Good, fervent hand-clasps bind hearts 
together, and where there is a sincere, fervent 
feeling in each heart, by which the act is 
prompted, the clasp will electrify each with a 
peculiar thrill not soon forgotten. 
I remember one such clasp, given and received 
years agone, when youthful friendship and love 
were in all the warmth of undoubting trust, 
when two who had passed pleasant years of con¬ 
fidential intercourse together, severed that inter¬ 
course, and went out to go their several paths 
in life alone. Though I have received many 
hearty clasps since, the thrill of that one is still 
present with me ; 1 feel it yet! 
It was my privilege, not long 6ince, to meet 
the great Pianist and Composer, Gottscualk, 
and the hand-clasps he gave inc 1 shall ever re¬ 
member. My hand literally ached for a half- 
hour after. I was deeply impressed with the 
thought that, bis practice had most fully devel¬ 
oped the muscular power of his hand! Pcreoual 
regard did not beget this manifestation ; it was 
simply the free 'expression of a nature, which, 
though the seat of genius, still keeps intact its 
child like naturalness. And though the artist 
may, as I think he n®w intends, leave the coun¬ 
try, and I may never again bike him by the 
hand. I shall ever cherish a warmer feeling to¬ 
ward liim than I should, but for those cordial 
clasps. 
I close this article by repeating, put a little 
more of your soul into your greetings of ac¬ 
quaintances and strangers. Allow a little warmth 
to creep from your heart down to your digits. 
Don’t do a good deed by halves. Either extend 
the whole baud of fellowship to whomsoever oc¬ 
casion requires, or resolutely put your baud in 
your pocket. And, lastly, so live that you ex¬ 
tend to each and all ever the hand of an Honest 
Man ! Gulielmum. 
Albany, March, 1865. 
Still I love my mother very dearly and would not 
wound her feelings for the world; but I have 
often turned away to hide the tears, that 7 can¬ 
not force back, when I see other daughters en¬ 
joying the privelege which I dare not claim. 
Mother thinks that I will forget sooner if she 
speaks rather lightly of things which I feel very 
deeply. But mothers, I know by experience 
that it is mistaken kindness.” 
MY HEAVENLY BIRD 
Written tor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
STAR OF THE CAMP. 
Who shall judge a man from manners ? 
Who shall know him by his drees ? 
Paupers may he tit for princes, 
Princes fit for something less. 
Crumpled shirt and dirty jacket 
May beclothc the golden ore 
Of the deepest thoughts and feelings— 
Salih vests could do no more. 
There arc spriugs of crystal nectar 
Ever welling out of stone; 
There are purple bud.* and golden, 
Hidden crushed and overgrown; 
God, who counts by souls, not dresses, 
Loves and prospers you and me. 
While he values thrones, the highest, 
But as pebbles in the sea. 
Man. upraised above his fellows, 
Oft forgets his fellows then; 
Masters, rulers, lords, remember 
That your meauest hiuds are men— 
Men by labor, men by feeling, 
Men by thought, and men by fame, 
Claiming equal rights to sunshine, 
In a man's ennobling name. 
There are foam-embroldcrcd oceans, 
There are little weed-clad rills. 
There arc feehle, inch-high saplings, 
There are cedars on the hills : 
God, who counts by souls, not stations, 
Loves and prospers you and me; 
For, to Him, all vain distinctions 
Are as pebbles in the sea. 
Toiling hands alone are builders 
Of a nations wealth or fame; 
Titled laziness is pensioned. 
Fed and fattened on the same; 
By the sweat or other's foreheads, 
Living only to rejoice. 
While the poor man's outraged freedom 
Vainly lifted up Its voice. 
Truth and justice are eternal. 
Born with loveliness and light, 
Secret wrongs shall never prosper. 
While there is a sunny right; 
God, whose world-heard voice is singing 
Boundless love to you and me, 
Sinks oppression with its titles, 
As the pebbles in the sea. 
BT R. H. STODDARD 
Out of the deeps of heaven 
A bird has flown to my door, 
As twico in the ripening summers 
Its mates have flown before 1 
Why has it flown to my dwelling, 
Nor it nor I may know; 
And only the silent angels 
Can tell when it shall go! 
That it will not straightway vanish, 
But fold its wings with me, 
And slug In the greenest branches 
Till the axe Is laid to the tree, 
Is the prayer of my love and terror, 
For my soul is sore distrest, 
Lest I wake some dreadful morning 
And find but its empty nest I 
Where loyal camps and outposts lie 
Beneath the Southern stars, 
An angel nightly walks the sky 
Beside the fiery Mars, 
And kindles in the blue abyss 
A ray whose softer gleams, 
Like eyes of loved ones thrill with bliss 
The sleeping soldier's dreams. 
It cheers the lonely picket guard, 
Who braves the dreary night, 
And as his thoughts turn Heavenward, 
Smiles on with softened light; 
Though Mara sends down his martial gleams 
That star still shines above,— 
Blessed forever be its beams, 
Home’s holy star of love! 
The Father infinite in state, 
Looks kindly down alwav, 
On loving hearts that can but wait, 
And lips that can but pray; 
For those who bear our flag afar, 
Their cry ascendeth there, 
And God's own angel lights that star, 
In answer to their prayer. 
The. Southern Cross with splenders rare 
May set the heavens aglow, 
But dearer light falls throngh the air, 
From Northern hills of snow; 
O soldier! in the tent, ufar, 
Or in the battle's flame, 
Be firm, Tor o'er you Love’s bright star 
Forever shines the same. 
WHEN TO GIVE THE MITTEN 
Young woman ! if a rich young man asks you 
to marry him and has no occupation, or trade, or 
calling, by which lie could make a living if he 
were thrown on his own resources, you may 
give him your respect, but “give him the 
mitten.” 
Whatever may he a young man’s qualities, if 
he is fond, very fond of going to the theater, 
“refuse" him. 
If a young man shows by his conversation 
that he is an admirer of fast horses, and is 
pretty well acquainted with the qualities and 
“time” of the best racing nags of the country, 
when he asks your hand, “give him the mitten ” 
only. 
If you ever hear a yonng man speak of his 
father or mother disrespectfully, or contemptu¬ 
ously, do not encourage his attentions; lie will 
do the same of yon, and in many ways will make 
your heart ache before yon die. 
If you know a young man who likes to stand 
around tavern doors, at the street comers, and 
about ‘’groceries,” cut your hand off rather 
than place it in his; he is worth only the 
“ mitten.” 
If your suitor can tell you a great deal about 
cards, seems familiar with a multitude of “tricks” 
which can he performed with the same, and is 
himself an adept in such things, let him win all 
the money away from others, but let him not 
“win” your heart, for he will “lose it” in a 
year, and leave you a broken one in its place. 
If you know “a nice young man” who 
will certainly heir a large estate, who is of a 
“highly respectable family,” who seems to be at 
home as to the usages, customs and proprieties 
of good society, and yet who is indifferent about 
attending church on the Sabbath day, who 
speaks disparagingly of clergymen, who talks 
about religion in a patronizing way as “a very 
good thing in its place,” particularly for old 
women, weak young girls and children, never 
marry him should he ask you. Such a mau can 
never warm a woman’6 heart; will never twine 
around it the tendrils of true affection, for he is 
innately cold, unsympathising and selfish, and 
should sickness and trouble come to you, he will 
leave you to bear them all alone. 
Idleness or the having no occupation, will 
always and inevitably engender moral and physi¬ 
cal disease; and these traits will be more or less 
perpetuated in the children born to such; the 
brunt of these calamities has to be borne by the 
mol her, and in the bearing up against them how 
many (i noble-hearted woman has sorrowed, and 
grieved, and toiled hcrscll into a premature 
grave may never be known, but the number 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
CHRISTIAN CHARITY. 
How little true Christian affection we find 
even among those who profess to enjoy most the 
favor of God. How often are our hearts pained 
by expressions iu regard to others, but little im¬ 
bued with the spirit of true Christian charity, 
falling from the lips of those we love iu the 
church. It is true wc are not to believe a per¬ 
son is a Christian simply because he professes to 
be, if he bring not forth any of the fruit3 of the 
spirit. But before we condemn utterly, let us 
see to it that wo ourselves are not as guilty in 
heart before God, if not in outward seeming. 
For He who said “ Thou shalt Dot steal,” said 
also, “ Thou shall love thy neighbor as thyself.” 
“ He that hath not the spirit of Christ is none 
of his,” and where in his life’s history do we find 
the Savior, “talking scamlul?” 
I was much pleased in reading an anecdote of 
an old lady, noted for her charity. Her grand¬ 
children were conversing of this peculiar trait 
in their grand mother, and one remarked, “ I do 
believe grand-mother would find something to 
say in favor of the devil himself.” The old lady 
entered the room in time to hear this remark, 
and said “ I wish wc all possessed his industry 
and perseverance.” Hardly a compliment, but 
it proved the aged disciple could learn a lesson 
from tho vilest — even from the enemy of all 
good. 
Let us cultivate a habit of searching as cam- 
estly for good in our brethren as we do ovil. 
Did we show as much zeal iu this direction we 
should Bte more to praise, less to eondemn. 
Though wc have all the oilier Christian’ graces, 
and have not charity, our professions arc as a 
“sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal." 
“Faith, IIopc, Charity, but the greatest of 
these Is Charity.” Sibyl. 
Greene, Chenango Co., 1SC5. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
GROWING OLD. 
“Mother, I do wish you would sit down; 
you hinder more than you help me.” 
The words were mildly spoken, yet how 
they hurt the poor old heart. Sitting down 
“out of the way,” aud talriug little Mat upon 
her lap, the mother rested her silvered head on 
the curl-crown of the child, that the busy daugh¬ 
ter should not see her tears, while the little one 
prattled on innocent of the grief she was hiding. 
It wasn’t so t wenty years ago—only tlic differ¬ 
ence between forty and sixty. Then the daugh¬ 
ter was a bride, and no hands were so often called 
to aid in steering the new home-craft as “ moth¬ 
er's ; ” and how should they know now that the 
fading eyes misguided them in their more tbau 
willing tasks? 
Perhaps your mother is getting old, but don’t 
let her think she is less beautiful or ueedful to 
you now tbau ever. It will come to her soon 
■nough and heavy enough at best. Keep her 
hoart young in love and joy, and make her look 
cheerful and young as you can. 
It is not necessary that you shall color her 
hair; that is a shame, a degradation to honora¬ 
bly ripened years, but do not put her in all 
brown or black and tell her these only arc 
suitable. 
If the withering, trembling fingers misplace 
your work in trying to aid its completion, make 
a necessity of something she can do easily and 
well—not the coarsest knitting yon can hunt 
an either, but what she Mill not feel is a make¬ 
shift to dispose of her. 
“ It will take so much time.” Yes, I know it, 
but which is worth most, the few pennies you 
would save or the quiet peace of that aged soul ? 
Little things make up life’s first and last les¬ 
sens—things you and I don’t mind now, because 
of the larger ones, but they make up a sum of 
kappiuess or woe, and shall we not walk slowly 
for a little while to steady the tottering steps of 
those who led us hither so gently ? Can wc not 
return some of the patience in their second 
childhood’s forgetting, which they lent to us in 
onr first childhood’s learning? If our lives 
were worth more to us for ourselves than for 
them, it must be because the failure of theirs 
lies in their efforts for us. 
I would say, “can we not watch with them 
one hour?” —but I cannot understand the 
heart that excludes father and mother from its 
rest, or looks to their departure otherwise than 
that with them wilt go out from earth its best 
affection and choicest blessings, and the hour 
of watching ihat is only too short, will leave a 
void in our soul’s /•Sanctum Sandonirn through 
all this world’6 future. Grace Glenn. 
Ionia, Mich., Fob., 1865. 
TABLE TALK, 
WheN people comC to tea us we foolishly 
prattle, aud think it necessary in order to be 
hospitable; but such conversations are chalk 
eggs. The honest man must keep faith with 
himself; his sheet anchor is sincerity. Losing 
this lie loses the talent of his talent. What wc 
want is not your activity, not your interference, 
hut your habitual truth. Stay at home. The 
way to have large occasional views is to have 
large habitual views. Let nature bear the ex¬ 
pense. Let our eyes meet. Look not abroad 
for materials for conversation, but rest; first 
feel your subject fully, then discourse, if speak¬ 
ing be really more gralcful than silence. Make 
yourself the vehicle of truth. 
Another hindrance is the disposition to tun 
aud untimely jokes. Beware of them. They 
are condiments; inestimable for sauce, but cor¬ 
rupting food. You go away from such banquets 
hollow and ashamed. There arc people who 
cannot be cultivated; you must, keep them down 
aud quiet them as you can; people on whom 
speech makes no irepression. Shun t he negative 
side. Never worry people with your contrac¬ 
tions. Never name sickness, and, above all, be¬ 
ware of unmuzzling the valetudinarian. 
Some Western court has defined a town to bo 
"a place where whisky is sold.” He would de¬ 
fine a city as a place where a man could go into 
a cafe, aud while drinking his cup of coffee, meet 
and converse with men of letters aud of science, 
and enjoy the refreshment of society. Our in¬ 
stitutions of daily necessity can be arranged 
to secure such benefits, and tliis should be the 
aim of every philanthropist at home. We Bhould 
welcome every means to promote the intercourse 
of men. We should overcome our national 
spites.— Emerson. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
SHAKING HANDS. 
Believing, from the earnest grasp of the hand 
which our friend Moore gave me not long since, 
that he will fully concur in what I may write 
upon the subject, I tike up my pen to treat very 
briefly of the matttr of hand shaking. We, 
Americans, arc a people of shakers ; at least we 
are very much giver to taking one another by 
the hand. We do Hits when we meet; we do it 
again when we part if no more than two min¬ 
utes of conversati*- lias comprised the sum to 
tal of our interview., I do not object to the prev¬ 
alence of this eusyl i; outhc contrary I admire 
the social fricndliff f that prompts it; but I do 
desire to enter my protest against the manner 
iu which some persons go through theoperation. 
1 protest against the style in which an “elite,” 
“fashionable” specimen of concentrated “ up¬ 
per-crust” meekly extends two delicate Augers 
as au apology or substitute for a healthy, en 
thusiastic grasp! When I meet a person to 
whom I tender the greeting of friendly regard, 
and receive such a miserable return as this, the 
effect upon me is about the same as though I had 
grasped an icicle! If there is any earnestness in 
a roan’s soul, any spark of vitality in Ills nature, 
why not let it manifest itself through his digits? 
We have all heard the idea that a man’s courage 
often oozes out of his liDgers, aud I contend that 
a man or woman’s true, earnest, social regard 
and feeling, can aud does, ooze out through 
those same members in a good, cordial grasp. 
And now that I have mentioned the gentler 
6ex in this connection, allow me to remark that, 
iu my opinion, no woman compromises her deli¬ 
cacy when she eschews the cold, formal, icicle¬ 
like greeting. heretofore mentioned, for one in 
which she blends 60 ine of her womanly nature, 
even though toward one of the opposite Bex. I 
admire womanly delicacy; nor would I wish it 
cast aside for any undue freedom of manner, or 
lilppancy of expression, yet, 1 do believe that if 
the sex would cultivate less of the so-called “lady¬ 
like,” and in their deportment towards men 
manifest more of their true womanhood man¬ 
kind would respect them the more, and be tbc 
purer and better. 
And ladies, young ladies, if your acquaintance 
with a young man is sufficient to warrant you in 
giving him your hand,—not literally aud for all 
time, but in friendly greeting—it warrants you 
in extending the whole of it; and don’t, I beg of 
you, for your sake, for his sake, for humanity’s 
sake, bethink you of the latest fashionable dl- 
([ueltc , and In accordance therewith present, but 
one or two fingers, charged with no more vi¬ 
tality, apparently, than a couple of sticks, aud 
thereby lead him to think that iu very truth your 
woman’s social feeling and affectionate nature 
has become ossified! Yes, give him your whole 
hand, if the least particle of heart goes with it, 
provided he ia worthy and deserving, and if lie 
isn’t, don't extend a Jlmjer l In jour grasp he 
will feel interpreted your respect and wellwishes, 
and any man will labor with a higher purpose if 
ho be assured that a true woman docs wish him 
success. 
Nothing is more pleasant to one among 
strangers, as I well know from experience, than 
sucli a grasp of the hand us I am advocating. 
Though it may mean no particular personal re¬ 
gard, it serves to warm his heart, and to con¬ 
vince him that if wc are not literally a “ hand of 
brothers,” there is yet a fellow feeling within us 
that prompts us to extend to one another tho 
hand of good will. This social element cannot 
be too much Cultivated among us, arid we ought 
to use every means iu our power to foster aud 
improve Ha growth. 
DO GOOD 
Thousands of men breathe, move, and live— 
pass off the stage of life—are heard of no more. 
Why ? They do not a particle of good in the 
world, none was blessed by them as the instru¬ 
ment of their redemption. Not a word they 
spoke could be recalled, and so they perished; 
their light went out in darkness, and they were 
not remembered more than the insects of yes¬ 
terday. Will you thus live and die, 0 mau im¬ 
mortal? Live for something. Do good, and 
leave behind you a monument of virtue that the 
storms of time can never destroy. Write your 
name in kindness, and love, and mercy on the 
hearts of thousands you may come iu contact 
with year by year You will never be forgotten. 
No ! your name, your deeds, will be as legible 
ou the hearts you leave behind as the stars on 
the brow of the evening. Good deeds will shine 
as the stars of heaven.— Dr. Chalmers. 
AN APPEAL TO MOTHERS 
Mothers ! cherish a deep and constant sense 
of your own importance to your children, es¬ 
pecially to your sons. Take the high and re¬ 
sponsible position which God has assigned you 
as your own, and strive, by his grace, to fill it. 
Remember that God has chosen to make the 
parental, and particularly the maternal relation, 
a chief instrumentality in extending the knowl¬ 
edge of his truth, and building up his church. 
Remember that Jesus calls you to be workers 
together with him in preparing jewels for his 
crown of glory. Strive, therefore, to illustrate 
the beauty and power of the maternal character; 
assert and maintain your authority; make it 
lovely and winning. 
Your difficulties and trials arc great, but 
abundant help is offered for your time of need, 
and great will be your reward if you arc faith¬ 
ful. Shrink not from your duty, for the eouse- 
quences of your unfaithfulness will he terrible. 
“A child left to himself bringeth his mother to 
shame : ” terrible to you us well as to them. At¬ 
tempt not your duty alone. The blessedness ol' 
bringing up children for God, to be workers iu 
his earthly vineyard and heirs of his heavenly 
kingdom, is inconceivable and eternal. The 
sorrow aud woe of training them to be cumber- 
ers of the ground, or bond-slaves of Satan and 
heirs of perdition, who can imagine it ? Let no 
spurious love or false tenderness lead you to in¬ 
dulgence or neglect, which will surely prove 
fatal to your own po.ace and happiness, as well 
as that of your children. 
Remember that you cannot delegate to an¬ 
other the authority and inducnce which God has 
given you as mothers. If yon try to do so, yon 
will only rob and destroy yourselves and your 
children. Surely, you would not have others 
take the rewards which belong to you. It is for 
you to say, at tho judgment, “Lord here urn I 
and the children whom thou hast given mo.” 
What motives for pcrsoual piety press upon 
you \—ftev. J. M. Johnson. 
SOBER SABBATH THOUGHTS, 
CHANCE CHIPS. 
Ambition often plays the wrestler’s trick of 
raising a man up merely to fling him down. 
It is wise and well to look on the cloud of 
sorrow as though we expected it to turn into a 
rainbow. 
Consider how few things are worthy of anger, 
and thou wilt wouder that any but fools should 
be in wrath. 
Pack your cares in as small a space os you 
can, so that you eau carry them yourself, and not 
let them annoy others. 
We ought to be ablo to endure almost any¬ 
thing in old age, for we have at the worst but a 
short time to be miserable. 
A mild answer to an angry man, like water 
cast upon fire, abateth his heat, and from au 
enemy he shall become thy friend. 
Dr. Johnson, once speaking of a quarrelsome 
fellow, said : — “If he had two ideas In his head 
they would fall out with each other.” 
Truth is the only real lasting foundation for 
friendship; and in everything but truth there is 
a principle of decay aud dissimulation. 
If it be difficult to rule thine anger, it is wise 
to prevent it; avoid, therefore, kll occasions of 
falling into wrath, or guard thyself against them 
whenever they occur. 
What a world of gossip would he prevented 
if it, was only remembered that a person who 
tells you of the faults of others, intends to tell 
others of your faults. 
Three things appear to be uninjured by the 
fall—the song of birds, the beauty of flowers, 
and the smile ot infancy; for it is difficult to 
conceive how either ol' these could have been 
more perfect had mau remained holy ; as if God 
would leave us something pure to remind us ol 
the Paradise wc have lost, aud point us to that 
which we shall regain. 
MOTHERS AND DAUGHTERS, 
On page 40, current volume of tho Rural we 
give an article entitled “ Thoughtless Mothers 
aud Thinking Daughters.” We have the follow¬ 
ing in response to that article, from a young girl 
over the signature “ Minnie.” Referring to the 
article she writes:—“ It almost seems as if it was 
written expressly for lay perusal. I have one of 
the kindest, best mothers in the world, but still 
I would not have her know 7 am Mtitimj this , sol 
must hurry. I cannot see a fault in my mother. 
(We are not apt to sec many faults in those we 
love.) 1 am an only daughter; and since this un¬ 
holy rebel) on came upon us, I have been one of 
the many that have drained the cup of sorrow 
almost to the very dregs, for it has taken from 
me, forever, two noble brothers, and one other 
that was dearer to me than the blood that flows 
in my own veins. And often when my heart lias 
been almost ready to burst from Its prison cell 
for want of sympathy and words of comfort, 
such as only a dear mother can give, oh! how 
1 have longed to lay my weary, aching head 
upon her breast aud listen to words of sympathy 
and love; but I dare not do it, for fear she 
would say, * don’t he foolish and sentimental, 
Minnie.’ And with this dreadful feeling of 
restraint, I go alone and weep, feeling that it 
would not he right for me to sadden the light 
hearts of my young associates with my grief. 
A young lady in East Vincent, Pa., had au of¬ 
fer of marriage from a young gentleman, as fol¬ 
lows:—That If Gen. McClellan was elected, he 
would marry her, to which she acceded; and if 
he was not elected, she was to remain single four 
years longer. Four years is a long period in the 
life of a marriageable j oung lady. 
