Another class comprises those whom we will 
denominate 
Fancy Reader*. 
A very ratioual question is, What do you mean 
by Fancy Readers? We mean those who scarce' 
ly ever read, but who nevertheless are ambitious 
to be considered somewhat knowing in literary 
matters. That wc are not guilty of misnomer, 
maybe determined by a cursory glance at two 
typical libraries. Both are ostentatious, but in 
different ways. The room which contains the 
first is in all respects gorgeous. The saloon of 
the fabled princess Badroul Bondour would 
furnish no comparison. The wainscoting is 
gorgeous, the carpet is gorgeous, the furni' 
ture Is gorgeous, the fixings are gorgeous, 
and the walls are frescoed in gorgeous colors. 
The latter we might call gaudy, were they 
not so arranged and blended as to leave 
on the mind no distinct impression of any 
particular tint. And then, the hooks! What 
pen can do justice to the gorgeousness of the 
binding! But let us glance at their contents. 
Alas! they are mere trash 1 Almost every one 
of them a scholar would be ashamed to have 
seen in his collection. Tim truth is, these books 
are meant only to be looked at. The other 
library aims not so ranch at 6how as at eccen¬ 
tricity. It. is chosen from every language and 
from every age but the present, and is therefore 
exceedingly grotesque. Its owner takes special 
delight In the possession of books of which his 
neighbors know not even the existence. But 
having learned this, both owner and neighbor 
possess about an equal knowledge of them ; for 
neither can understand their contents. The 
volumes are worthless literary curiosities, whose 
meaning is separated from the English reader 
by the barrier of a foreign tongue. Now, such 
men scarcely ever read anything but market 
reports and “locals;” and hence they discover 
no taste in the selection of books. But they 
usually have wealth, by means of which they 
might become invaluable to literature as patrons 
of indigent authors. This tlowery path to im¬ 
mortality we commend to their serious attention. 
There are other readers who have apropension 
for some one department, say Psychology, His¬ 
tory, or Art, which they sometimes Indulge to 
such an extent as to become ridiculously one¬ 
sided. These we will pass over, and mention 
lastly 
Right Renders. 
These never exhaust their energies on one 
branch of inquiry to the exclusion of every 
other. Hence, they are always many sided, like 
a prism. Though their chief temporal end may 
be proficiency in a particular department, yet 
experience has taught them that to properly 
know one thing, a man must also know some^ 
thing of several others. For example, profi¬ 
ciency in Greek is said to justify a person’s 
claim to scholarship. Why? Not simply be¬ 
cause he knows Greek alone, but because the 
mastery of that tongue involves so much collat¬ 
eral knowledge. Moreover, they have just views 
of recreation. When they become wearied with 
one kind of study, they do not throw aside their 
books, but take up another. In this way they 
complete the time allotted to such pursuits. 
Their eoncentratlve powers are strengthened by 
mathematics, their taste Is refined by poetry 
and art, their intellects are expanded and sharp¬ 
ened by philosophy, and thus the whole man Is 
gradually developed. This we regard as the 
true end ol reading; and therefore any course 
which does not aim at this result, is In so far 
defective. 
Having already exceeded the space assigned 
us, we will close these desultory remarks by 
commending to Rural Readers a little book en¬ 
titled Pycroft’s Course of Reading, which con¬ 
tains, we think, some very desirable suggestions. 
Fumosus. 
married LIFE. 
are from the pen of that charming writer, * rea- 
erika Bremer, whose observation might well be¬ 
come roles of life, so appropriate are they to 
many of its phases:—“ Deceive not one auother 
in small things nor in gTeat. One little single 
lie has, before now, disturbed a whole married 
life, a small cause has often great consequences. 
Fold not the arms together and sit idle. Do 
not run much from home. One's own hearth is 
of more worth than gold. Many a marriage, my 
friend?, begins like the rosy morning, and then 
falls away like a snow wreath. And why, my 
friends! Because the married pair neglect to 
he as well pleasing to each other after marriage 
as before. Endeavor always, my children, to 
please one another ; hut at the same time keep 
God in your thoughts. Lavish not all your love 
on to-day, for remember that marriage has its 
to-morrow likewise, and its day after to-morrow 
too. Spare, as one may say, fuel for the winter. 
Consider, my daughters, what the word wife ex¬ 
presses. The married woman is the husband’s 
domestic faith; in her hand he must he able to 
confide house and family; be able to entrust to 
her the key of his heart, as well as the key of 
his eating room. His honor and his home are 
under her keeping—hi& well-being in her hand. 
Think of this! And you, 6ons, he faithful hus¬ 
bands, and good fathers of families. Act so 
that your wives shall esteem and love you. 
GRADATIM 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
MY EARLY HOME. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
IS SHE DEAD. 
BY .r. O. HOLLAND 
Heaven is not reached by a single bound; 
But we build t.ho ladder by which we rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies, 
And wc mount to its summit round by round. 
I connt. these things to be grandly true; 
That, a noble deed is a step toward God- 
Lifting the soul from the common Bod 
To a purer air and a broader view. 
We rise by the things that, are under our feet; 
By what we have mastered of groed and gain, 
By the pride deposed and the passion slain, 
And the vanished ill that we hourly meet. 
We hope, we resolve, wc aspire, we trust, 
When the morning calls to life and light, 
Bnt our hearts grow weary, and ere the night, 
Our lives are trailing the sordid dust. 
Wings for the angels, bnt feet for the men I 
We must borrow the wings to find the way— 
We may hope and resolve, and aspire and pray, 
But otir feet must rise or we fall again. 
Only in dreams is a ladder thrown 
From the weary earth to the eapphiro walls; 
But the dreams depart, and the vision fells. 
And the sleeper wakes on his pillow of 9tonc. 
Heaven is not reached by a single bonnd; 
But we build the ladder by which wc rise 
From the lowly earth to the vaulted ekics. 
And we mount to its summit round by round. 
BT BELL CLINTON, 
No spot of Earth, however fair, 
Where’er I chance to roam, 
Will e’er to me so lovely seem 
As that—my childhood's home. 
Upon a hillside green it stands, 
Where rippling shadows play, 
And bird and bee and rnstllng breeze, 
Sing through the summer day. 
O, far-off lands may brighter be, 
Their slcies more softly glow, 
Anil flowers a richer perfume bear 
Where crystal waters flow; 
Aud gorgeous palaces may rise, 
And gay gondolas glide, 
Where the Rialto proudly spans 
The deep life-bearing tide. 
And sunny hill-sides warmer gleam 
Where purple clusters bend, 
And fertile vallies charm the eye, 
Where shades of beauty blend. 
Bnt turf, or skies, or sparkling wave, 
Or song of bird or bee. 
Can never have the sacred charm 
They wore at home for me. 
But ah! the voices all are hashed, 
The forms are laid to rest, 
Which made that home so bright to me, 
And all my childhood blest. 
Bnt never, never, wheresoe'er 
My footsteps chance to roam, 
Can I forget, or cease to love 
My early—happy home. 
Chenango Co., N. Y. 
Is she dead? Long weeks she languished 
Wasted by disease and pain, 
Vain the prayers of hearts that loved her, 
Human art and skill were vain. 
Is she dead t The church belle tolling 
Called unto the house of prayer 
Friende to look their last upon her, 
Lying cold and silent there. 
And the man of God said sadly, 
“Earth to earth, and dust to dust,” 
But with brighter aspect pointed 
To the rising of the j net. 
Is she dead ? They've borne her marble 
Cold and senseless to tbe tomb— 
Laid it down beneath the lilies 
To rest in silence and in gloom. 
Is she dead 1 Ah no I nor sleeping 
In that green and narrow bed. 
Where they’ve laid the worn-out casket 
With spring flowers above its head. 
But she heard her mas er calling 
“Well done, good and faithful one," 
“ Come np higher, where is waiting, 
The crown your faith and love have won. 
And the ’raptured spirit gladly 
Left lts prison house of clay, 
And on winge of faith uprising, 
Sought tbe realms of endless day. 
HOW TO GROW BEAUTIFUL. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE ACTIVITY OF PROVIDENCE. 
Persons may out-grow disease and become 
healthy by proper attention to the laws of their 
physical constitution. By moderate and daily 
exercise, men may become active and strong 
in limb and muscle. But to grow beautiful, 
how ? Age dims the lustre of the eye and pales 
the roses on .eauty’s cheek; while erowsfeet, and 
furrows, an . wrinkles, aud lost teeth, and gray 
hairs, and -aid head, and tottering limbs, and 
limpiug, n >&t sadly mar the human from divine. 
But dim 0 ^ the eye is, pallid aud sunken as may 
be the fa e of beauty, and frail aud feeble that 
once stro.ig, erect, and manly body, the immor¬ 
tal soul, just fledging its wings for its home in 
heaven, may look out through those laded win¬ 
dows as beautiful as the dew-drop of summer's 
morning, as melting as the tears that glisten in 
affection’s eye—by growing kindly, by cultiva¬ 
ting sympathy with all human kind, by cherishing 
forbearance toward the follies and foibles of our 
race, and feeding, day by day, on that love to 
God and man which lifts us from the brute and 
makes ns akin to angels. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE BOYS' ROOM.”-TO MOTHERS, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
READING. 
A friend recently took me through her child¬ 
rens’ apartments. First, we were shown the 
“girl’s room,” a pleasant back-chamber in the 
upright part of the house. A neat rag-carpet 
covered the floor, the beds were furnished with 
pretty patch-work quilts, while wash-stand, 
mirror and chairs completed the furniture. It 
looked quite Inviting, though vases of flowers, 
pictures and books would have increased its 
attractiveness. 
Then my friend led me through to the “ boys’ 
room,” which was in the wing. “Quite a con¬ 
trast,” was my mental comment as we entered 
the low, unc&rpeted apartment — no mirror, no 
bathing conveniences, nothing save two beds 
with faded quilts, unpresentable elsewhere, and 
one chair for three hoys. 
And this is not a solitary, exceptional case. 
Almost universally among farmers, (indeed, 
among families generally,) little or nothing is 
done to render boys’ rooms pleasant and attract¬ 
ive to them. True, they spend few waking 
hours there, hut even going in and out of a 
pleasant, tidy room every day. has a glacat influ¬ 
ence upon the character. Boys are more care¬ 
ful not to litter a carpet than a floor, therefore a 
carpet will tend to cultivate in them order and 
neatness. They will have more self-respect and 
be more respectful to others, if they come down 
in the morning with hair neatly brushed and 
clean teeth, than with sleepy, unwashed eyes, 
and hair a la porcupine, therefore furnish their 
room with toilet appliances. Mothers, buy 
some pretty prints to hang in their room; give 
them a table with a neat cover, at least a chair 
each, and in summer, It will be trifling trouble 
to cut a fresh glass of flowers every.two or three 
days. The hoys may scarcely seem to notice 
these things, hut they have their good influence. 
Almost imperceptibly the surroundings modify 
the character. I doubt not the influence, from 
early years to maturity, of a pleasant room with 
a few well-chosen books and pictures, would be 
more beneficial—would tend more to ennoble, 
to cultivate both intellect and moral nature, 
than the year or two of “schooling” at an 
academy, which farmers are so generally am¬ 
bitious to give their sons. People think too little 
of the daily and hourly educators of children. 
The house, the flower-garden, the yard, the 
family paper, the intimate friend, are all teachers; 
take care, mothers, that the teachers be pure, 
true, ennobling. Amilie Pettit, 
The nude statement that “ Reading makes a 
full man,” is not intended to cover the whole 
design of the process, though repletion is too 
often its only effect. In thi6 place reading is 
considered merely in its relation to writing aud 
conversation—as supplying the fuel which is 
consumed by these two; and thus regarded the 
limitation is obviously correct. But whether 
this act really differs in any respect from the 
act of filling, depends altogether on how and what 
we read. This must he the judgment, of every 
candid thinker. As there are many classes of 
readers, perhaps we can best illustrate this prop¬ 
osition by producing a few examples. 
The first class wLi -h we shall notice, is com¬ 
posed of persons viho may bo called 
' Oadencit. 
True, it may not be 6trictly proper, in an 
article intended for popular perusal, to make 
use of a term not found in English Lexicons; 
but at the moment we can think of no other which 
is sufficiently concise and expressive to serve as 
a title. The phrase “ literary clphere ” approx¬ 
imates the meaning which we intend it to convey. 
This epithet wc apply to that numerous class 
of persons who seem to read for the sole pur¬ 
pose of dispelling ennui. Having and wishing 
no serious employment, they resort to reading 
as the cheapest and most rational pastime. 
Their minds are analogous to selves. Whatso¬ 
ever is read passes directly through, with no 
effect save that caused by friction and by the 
confirmation of deleterious habits of mind. 
These persons are not likely to peruse any work 
which requires fixed and continued attention; 
for this would involve too much odious toil. It 
has already been implied that such readers make 
no mental progress. On the contrary, they 
degenerate. Multitudes of them may be found 
who cannot reproduce a single item of real 
knowledge which they have gleaned from books. 
Not unfrcquently, however, do they retain quite 
distinct impressions of the amours of those 
questionable men and women, who figure as 
heroes and heroines in the lower grades of sen¬ 
sational literature. These impressions may have 
been originally received from books; but there 
is little doubt thut their retention for a long 
time is In all cubob directly chargeable to demor¬ 
alizing reverie. As filling supposes a sound 
vessel, it is perhaps needless to add that this 
kind of Reading is not embodied in Bacon’s 
statement. 
Opposed to these are the 
Filler*. 
These are distinguished by ready and tenacious 
memories, and by feeble powers of reasoning. 
Hence, they are invariably superficial. But they 
arc always full of facts; for whatsoever they 
FEMININE TOPICS. 
ABOUT THE BIRDS 
The robin has always been regarded with ten¬ 
derness. Popular tradition, even earlier than 
the date of the story of the Children in the 
Wood, has made him our sexton; 
No burial this pretty pair 
Of any man receives, 
Till robin redbreast painfully 
Did cover them with leaves. 
It is noted in Grey’s Shakspeare, that, accord¬ 
ing to the oldest traditions, if the robin finds the 
dead body of a human being, he will cover the 
face at least with moss or leaves: 
Cov'ring with moss the dead’s unclosed eye 
The little redbreast teachcth charitle. 
[Drayton's Owl. 
The wren is also credited with similar charity. 
In Reed’s old plays we read: 
Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, 
Siuce o’er shady groves they hover, 
And with leaves and flow’rs do cover 
The friendless bodies of unburied men. 
Here is another quaint quotation expressive of 
the tradition from Stafford’s Nlobe dissolved 
into a Nilus:—“On her (the nightingale) waites 
Robin in bis reddc livorle: who sits as a crown- 
eron the murthred man; and seeing his body 
naked, play- the some tailour to make him a 
mossy rayment.” Bird murderers have always 
A FASHIONABLE PARLOR, 
How many people do we call on from year to 
year, and know no more of their feelings, hab¬ 
its, tastes, family ideas and ways, than if they 
lived in Kamsehatka! Aud why ? Becuaee the 
room they call a front parlor, is made expressly 
so that you shall never know. 
They sit In a back room—work, talk and read, 
perhaps. After the servant has let you in and 
opened a crack of the shutters, and while you 
sit waiting for them to change their dress and 
come in, you speculate as to what they may he 
doing. From some distant region the laugh of 
a child, or the song of n canary bird reaches you, 
and then a door claps hastily to. Do they love 
plants ? Do they write letters, sew, embroider, 
crotchet ? Do they ever romp and frolic i What 
hooks do they read V Do they sketch or paint ? 
Of all these possibilities a mute and muffled 
room says nothing. A sofa and six chairs, two 
ottomans fresh from the upholsterer’s, a Brussels 
carpet, a center table with four gift hooks of 
beauty on it, a mantle clock from Paris, and two 
bronze vases—all thei-e tell you only In frigid 
tones—“ This Is the best room ”—only that, and 
nothing more, and soon she trips iu in her best 
clothes, and apologizes for keeping you wait¬ 
ing, asks how your mother is, aud you remark 
that it is a pleasant day, aud thus the acquaint¬ 
ance progresses from year to year. One hour 
iu the little back room, where the plants and 
canary birds and children are, might have made 
you fast friends for life ; but as it is, you care no 
more for them than for thogilt clock on the mau- 
tlo.— Mrs. If. B. Stowe in the Atlantic Monthly. 
How bravely a man can walk the earth, hear 
the heaviest burdens, perform the severest du¬ 
ties, aud look all men boldly in the face, If he 
only hears in his breast a clear conscience. 
Think naught a trifle, though it small appears; 
Bands make the mountains, moments make the years; 
And trifles, life. Your care to trifles give, 
Klse you may die ere you have learned to live. 
Georoe Auguhtuh Sala says the grisettes of 
Lyons are the prettiest women on earth. 
