?•smem&'x 
"Written lor Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ALONG THE SHOEE. 
nr LU LIGHT. 
The air is vocal with the breeze, 
Which sings among the forest trees, 
As if the Hamadryades, 
With tuneful lutes, 
And rustic flutes, 
Were mingling, with concordant notes, 
The melody which geutly floats 
In air, as eweet as songs from fairies’ throats, 
The bird, his head Beneath his wing, 
No longer makes the woodland ring 
With piercing notes, which echoing 
Among the trees, 
With melodies, 
Long linger ’mid the forest shades, 
Till music all t he wood pervades 
And rolls a sea of song upon the glades. 
The rays of Luna softly gleam 
On field and forest, lake and stream; 
The little stars with brightness beam, 
Like angel's eyes. 
Which from the skies 
Look down npon the loved ones here: 
For angels often come to cheer 
The waiting sonls of those on earth held dear. 
The boatman's song rings gaily o'er 
The waves, and echoes from the shore, 
Whence eounde the wooman’s axe no more ; 
Nor song of bird, 
Nor low of herd 
Disturbs the quiet of the field. 
The unseen blossome perfume yield, 
Like guardian spirits,—blessing unrevealed. 
Our little vessel skims the wave 
In silence,—all is quiet, save 
The night-owl, moaning o’er the grave 
Where Nature lies, 
Her sparkling eyes 
Glazed over by the gloom of night, 
Her features, in the misty Light, 
So pale, and coldly calm, and dimly white. 
"Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
SUMMER MORNINGS.-No. 2. 
Huckleberries are not good canned; that 
is, they are not good, comparatively, Thoreau 
says, (in substance,) that frozen apples should 
be eaten where they are found, after a brisk 
walk In the frosty air after them. Bringing 
them into the house destroys their flavor. So I 
think it is with huckleberries. To fix them up 
for company spoils them. 
For the sake of others, who differ from me, I 
go to work this cool July morning—so cool that 
harvesters work with coats on, and in the house 
the fire is really comfortable. To preserve the 
berries whole, I steam them. While they are 
cooking I sit down, and sift, from the silver 
spoon, the white, glistening grains of sugar; 
and as they slowly fall, the sound of their falling, 
the crackling of the fire, and the bubbling of the 
water seem far away; and then I hear the rustle 
of the sugar-cane and the gurgling of sluggish 
waters, or 
“The chime of low, soft, southern waves, 
On some green, palmy shore.” 
I hear faint whispers of the wind among the 
orange blossoms, and detect the subtle perfumes 
of gorgeous tropic flowers; and through it all I 
seem to hear the sound of the lash and the cry 
of the 6lave. But no, “slavery is dead—slavery 
is dead! ” It comes to my ear in a low, monot¬ 
onous chant; but the understanding grasps it 
not. The past four years seems like the sad 
dreams which visit troubled slumbers, through 
which I hear the tramp, tramp, tramp, of armed 
hosts going down to the Valley of the Shadow; 
the wails and prayers of those who sit in dark¬ 
ness weeping over the dead; the dropping of 
tears, heard only in dreams, and — in Heaven; 
and still the chaDt, “slavery is deadl” Now, 
the Spirit of Truth, wandering over the king¬ 
dom of Thought, breathes life into the dead 
words, and they become a song of triumph, a 
pa?an, with which blends the dropping of tears, 
as of waters that purify; and the prayers with 
the 6tnoke of incense, ascend up before God 
out of an augc-l’s hand; and the Valley of the 
Shadow is illumined, as the innumerable com¬ 
pany of martyrs pass through, np to the Temple 
opened in Heaven. As the last one, the nation’s 
sacrifice, the martyr crowned above all, passes 
through, 1 bear how the wail from a nation’s 
heart, and the tolling of bells all over the land 
blend with the strains of that sublime harmony 
which welcomed him to a kingdom where he 
reigns with Christ. I see how the nation is 
going np the Mount of Transfiguration, and 
other nations mounting by its side, say: — “ It 
is good for ns to be here.” 
The chastening has been sore, but it will be 
followed by blessings. Long years of toil and 
labor may yet be required before the wilderness 
shall blossom as the rose, but we are work¬ 
ing; and 
“ The spear ie beaten to hooks of pruning,. 
The share is the sword the soldier wore; 
* * * * * * * * 
Then to Him who gives us heauty for ashes • 
And the oil ot joy for mourning long, 
Let the hills give thanks, and all the waters 
Break into jubilant waves of songl” 
The berries are canned, and through ttye glass 
they glow, a deep, intense purple. 1 put them 
away on the shell', with just a thought of drifting 
snows and holiday greetings, Enola. 
An amusing incident occurred recently, during 
the progress of one of those “Sabbath 8chool 
Concerts,” as interesting to adults as to children. 
The subject was the history of Samsou, and the 
question, “ What loollah thing did Sani6on once 
do?” Expectation was on tiptoe to ascertain 
his peculiar weakness, when from a front scat 
came the reply, given with solemn preciseness 
and au irresistibly ludicrous accent:—“ He went 
down among the Philistines and got a wife.” 
A WORD TO YOUNG LADIES. 
We wish to say a word to you, young ladies, 
about your influence over the young men. 
Did you ev f er think of it.? Did you ever 
realize that you could have any influence over 
them ? 
We believe that a young lady, by her constant, 
consistent, Christian example, may exert an un¬ 
told power. You do not know the respect, and 
almost worship, which young men, no matter 
how wicked they may he themselves, pay to a 
consistent lady, be she young or old. A gentle¬ 
man once said to a lady who boarded in the same 
house with him, that her life was a constant 
proof of the Christian religion. 
Often the simple request of a young lady, will 
keep a young man from doiDg wrong. W e have 
known this to be the ease frequently, and young 
men have been kept from breaking the Sabbath, 
from drinking, from swearing, just because a 
lady whom they respected, and for whom they 
had an affection, requested it. A tract given, an 
invitation to go to Church, a request that your 
friend would read the Bible daily, will often be 
regarded when a more powerful appeal from 
other sources would fall unheeded npon his 
heart. 
Many of the gentlemen whom you meet in 
society, are away from the influence of parents 
and sisters, and they will respond to any inter¬ 
est taken in their welfare. 
We all speak of a young man's danger from 
evil associates, and the very bad iKfluence which 
his dissipated gentleman associates have over 
him. We believe it is all true that a gentleman’s 
character is formed to a great extent by the 
ladies that he associates with before he becomes 
a complete man of the world. We think, in 
other words, that a young man is pretty much 
what his sisters and young lady friends choose 
to make him. 
We once knew a family where the sisters en¬ 
couraged the younger brothers to smoke, think¬ 
ing it was manly, and to mingle with gay, dissi¬ 
pated fellows, because they thought, it “smart,” 
and they did mingle with them body and soul, 
and abused the same sisters most shamefully. 
The influence begun further back than with their 
gentlemen companions. It begun with their 
sisters, and was carried on through the forming 
years of their character. On the other band, if 
the sisters are watchful and affectionate, they 
m8y in various ways—by entering into any little 
plan with interest, by Introducing their younger 
brothers into good ladies’ society—lead them 
along until their character is formed, and then 
a high-toned respect for ladies, and a manly self- 
respect, will keep him from mingling with low 
society. 
If a young man sees that the religion which 
in youth he was taught to venerate is lightly 
thought of, and perhaps sneezed at by the young 
ladies with whom he associates, we can hardly 
expect him to think that it is the thing for him. 
Let none say that they have no influence at 
all. This is not possible. Yon cannot live with¬ 
out having some sort of Influence, any more 
than you can live without breathing. One thlug 
is just as unavoidable as the other. Beware 
then what kind of influence it is that you are 
constantly exerting. An invitation to take a 
glass of wine, or to play a game of cards, may 
kindle the fires of intemperance or gambling, 
which will bum forever. 
A jest given at the expense of religion, a light, 
trifling manner in the house of God, or any of 
the numerous ways in which you may show your 
disregard for the sonls of others, may be the 
means of ruining many for time and eternity.— 
Home Journal. 
FEMININE TOPICS. 
There is many a good wife that can’t sing 
and dance well. 
Beauty, like lightning, appears and strikes at 
the same instant. 
The rich widow cric6 with one eye and re¬ 
joices with the other. 
When a young lady Is dull and stupid, a spark 
may make her sparkle. 
A toung lady’s first love kiss ha6 the same 
effect on her as being electrified. Its a great 
shock, but soon over. 
Soft words butter no parsnips, but a new 
bonnet presented to a wife will cover a multi¬ 
tude of her husband’s sins. 
Some say the quickest way to destroy weeds 
Is to marry a widow. It is no doubt a very 
agreeable species of husbandry. 
The Turks think that women have no souls. 
But we have seen some women that bad several 
souls apiece. Each feature was a soul of itself. 
It has been said that it is a greater misfortune 
for a man to be blind than for a woman to be so, 
as in him it involves a deprivation of the great¬ 
est of all enjoyments, the sight of woman. But 
the reverse is true as to deafness. 
TnE Baptist Chronicle says:—“At an examln 
ation of girls for the rite of confirmation in the 
Episcopal church, in answer to the question, 
“ What is the outward and visible sign and form 
in baptist^ ?” the reply of a bright little theolo¬ 
gian was, “The baby, sir.” 
A door woman told her minister who was 
collating for a benevolent object, that she 
“could not give a guinea a year as the great 
folks did, but would give sixpence a week!” 
Her heart was better than her arithmetic, for 
•out of her poverty she was giving more than 
the rich. 
Sidney Smith was once looking through the 
hot-house of a lady who rvaa proud of her flow¬ 
ers and used, not very accurately, a profusion of 
botanical names. “ Madam,” said he, have you 
i the Septmnis psoriasis ?” “No,” said she, “I 
bad It last winter, and I gave it to the Arch¬ 
bishop of Canterbury; it came out beautifully 
In the spring.” JSeptennis psoriasis is the medi¬ 
cal name of the seven year itch. 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
Oh ! the homes we give the poor I 
In the alleys damp and grim, 
Where all noisome vapors swim. 
In the cellar-caves that drink 
Poison from the sewer and sink. 
Are the homes we give the poor. 
, See the homes we give the poorr 
Toiled to weary, dangerous heists, 
Toward heaven's cold and pitiless lights, 
Chilled above by wind and enow, 
While the tiro-fiend Inrks below— 
See the homes we give the poor. 
Are they homes we give the poor ? 
Danger sits by every gate, 
Pain and misery round them wait, 
Ghostly tenants put we in, 
Death, disease, and shame and sin— 
Homes they are not for the poor. 
Have wc no homes for tho poor r 
Hold we earth so cramped and bound 
Place for these cannot be found ? 
Do ovr homes so wide expand 
That they cover all the land? 
Leave we do homes for the poor ? 
Near ns ever are the poor; 
They are nearer than we think: 
We but stand npon the brink 
Whence we pnsli them; and their fall 
Shakes the mansion and the hall : 
We are very near the poor. 
Ask we how to bless the poor ? 
Build them houses not unmeet 
To be trod by human feet— 
Give them homes; and blessings thus 
Shall run swift from them to ns— 
From the homes we give the poor. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
“ THE PLEASURES OF INTOLERANCE.” 
BY B. S. 
It is a common notion that toleration is a sign 
of weak convictions. Yon can make very few 
people believe that a man may have a firm and 
independent mind, and yet entertain a respect 
for those whose opinions differ from bis own. 
We proscribe each other every day for little 
differences in politics and religion, and would 
be ashamed of onr manhood if we did not do It. 
With a generous toleration for onr own faults 
and remlssnesses, we make straight the way and 
narrow the path in which our neighbor is to 
tread. We wear onr colors npon onr sleeve, 
and challenge comparisons with all men. Nay, 
we seek occasions to quarrel,—like the pugna¬ 
cious Irishman at a Donnybrook fair, who pur¬ 
posely wears a coat which trails along the 
ground, inviting the heedless step of some un¬ 
lucky wight. Independence and toleration? 
Sir, the two things are Incompatible. Inde¬ 
pendence, like the bully of a public school, 
expands if? chest, and stalk/? around with a chip 
on its shoulder, iotunatinr.tey its demeanor that 
It would just like t>< soluebody knock it off. 
A thoroughly opinloaati re man is the most 
disagreeable object in the world. He will sit at 
your board, partake of your viands, and when 
your tongue, loosened by good cheer, exposes 
your pet theories, he will smile derision at. you 
across your own mahogany. And this habit, to 
a certain extent, is common with all of us. As 
we are nothing nowadays unless intellectual, wc 
tolerate everything but a difference of opinion. 
Our neighbor may wear a blouse and lunch oh 
lentils and black bread, while wc put on a dress 
«coat and dine on soup, fish, et cetera j and If we 
agree in politics and religion, we may graciously 
admit hie right to live, and to secure all the 
blessings which his position will afford. But if 
we do not agree upon these vital points, there 
Is no good in him. Wo may be too Indolent to 
abuse him ourselves, but we read with approval 
an articletu our morning paper which calls him 
“a liar, a swindler, a thief,” and a host of other 
names current in the newspaper world. 
All this rambling talk, my dear Editor, is 
merely incidental to introducing to the atten¬ 
tion of your readers the following exquisite bit 
of irony on the “Pleasures of Intolerance,” 
from the Loudon Saturday Review: 
“The people lu whom nature or education 
has implanted an easy and tolerant temper, 
scarcely know of how much and what peculiarly 
intense delight they are depriving themselves. 
They hear hostile opiulons, and witness conduct 
of which they do not wholly approve, without 
any burning anxiety to punish or convert the 
offender. They can endure without impatience 
any amount of difference of sentiment on the 
part of those around them as to all imaginable 
subjects. They are unwilling to believe that 
truth has never any other aspect than that which 
is presented to themselves, and Is never to be 
found out of the track in which they are content 
to seek their own portion of it. There Is a mild 
comfort in Buch a state of mind, it must be con¬ 
fessed. It makes tho world go a little easier 
with us. Philosophy has taught that truth can 
only come out of the conflict of antagonistic 
opinions. Religion, too, enjoins upon us the 
practice of charity as the chief of virtues. And 
it ia rather soothing to find ourself living In 
harmony with the conclusions of philosophy, 
and in obedience to the precepts of religion. 
But what are these tepid delights compared 
with the fiery joys of intolerance and persecu¬ 
tion ? An ox browsing in a meadow is comfort¬ 
able enough, but his pleasures of life are un¬ 
speakably tame and mean when compared with 
the fierce energetic delights of a panther or a 
hyanu. The sweets of brotherly love are all 
very well in their vay, but they are unendurably 
insipid to those vho have accustomed their 
palates to the sweets of hatred and malice and 
all uncharitablenesr. The pleasure of forgiving 
an enemy may satisfy a mild and lukewarm 
nature. The pleasure of hunting him down, 
and reviling him, and calumniating hia name, 
and surrounding him with all manner of tor¬ 
ments, ia much more gratifying to men and 
women of high spirit. No conviction is worth 
the name unless it is strong enough to make a 
man go through fire and water to punish all 
who do not share It with him. To take as much 
trouble as possible to form your own opinions 
aright, and then to leave others alone to go 
through tbe same process ou their own account, 
is poor work indeed. There is no excitement in 
this—no room for that animosity and spiteful- 
ness and bad language which make the profes¬ 
sion of the fervent proselytiser or the intole¬ 
rant partisan so genuinely pleasurable.” 
GRIT. 
A peculiar kiud of grit, not falling under any 
of the special expressions I have noted, yet par¬ 
taking in some degree of all, is illustrated in the 
character of Lieutenaut-General Grant, With¬ 
out anatom of pretension or rhetoric, with none 
of the external signs of energy and intrepidity, 
making no parade of the immovable purpose, 
iron nerve, and silent, penetrating intelligence 
God has put into him, his tranquil greatness ia 
hidden from superficial scrutiny behind a cigar, 
as President Lincoln’s is behiud a joke. When 
anybody tries to coax, cajole, overawe, brow¬ 
beat, or deceive Lincoln, the President nurses 
his leg, and is reminded of a story; when any¬ 
body tries the same game with Grant, the Gen¬ 
eral listens and—smokes. If yon try to wheedle 
out of him hia plans for a campaign, he stolidly 
smokes; if yon call him an imbecile and a blun¬ 
derer, he blandly lights another cigar; if you 
praise him as the greatest General living, he pla¬ 
cidly returns the puff from his cigar; and if you 
tell him he should run for the Presidency, it 
does not disturb the equanimity with which he 
inhales and exhales the unsubstantial vapor 
which typifies the politician’s promises. While 
you are wondering what kind of man this crea¬ 
ture without a tongue is, you are suddenly elec¬ 
trified with the news of some splendid victory, 
proving that behind the cigar, and behiud the 
face discharged of all tell-tale expression, is the 
best brain to plan and the strongest "heart to 
dare among the Generals of the Republic.— At¬ 
lantic for April. 
OUR OWN FAULTS. 
Let us not be over curious about the failings 
of others, but take account of our own ; let us 
bear in mind the excellences of other men, 
while we reckon up our own faults, for then 
shall we be well-pleasing to God. For he who 
looks at the faults of othere, and at his own ex¬ 
cellences, ia injured in two ways; by the latter 
he is carried up to arrogance, through the form¬ 
er ho faffs into llsUe6sncss. For when he per¬ 
ceives that such an one has Binned, very easily 
he will sin hiniBclf; when he perceives he hath 
in ought excelled, very easily he becometh arro¬ 
gant. He who consigns to oblivion his owu ex¬ 
cellences, and looks at his failings only, while 
he is a curlons engineer of the excellences, not 
the sins of others, Is profitable in mauy ways. 
And how ? I will tell you. When he sees that 
such au one Las done excellently, be is raised to 
emulate the same; wheu he 6ees that he himself 
hath 6inned, he is rendered humble and modest. 
If we act thus, if we thus regulate ourselves, we 
shall be able to obtain the good things which we 
are promised through the loving kindness of 
onr Lord Jesus Christ.—Ah Chrysostom. 
CHANCE CHIPS. 
Liberality consists leas in giving profusely 
than in giving judiciously. 
Whoever makes the fewest persons uneasy, 
is the best bred in the company. 
Titus complained that he had “ lost a day.” 
A chess-player often loses a knight. 
It is easier to 6et a man against all the world 
than to make him fight with himself. 
“I am a broken man,” eaid a poor poet. “So 
I should think,” was the reply; “for I have 
6een your pieces.” 
To reprove small faults with undue vehe¬ 
mence, is as absurd as if a man should take a 
hummer because he saw a fly on his lriends fore¬ 
head. 
When Buckinham urged the inevitable de¬ 
struction which hung overthe United Provinces, 
and a?ked William of Orange whether he did 
not see that the Commonwealth was ruined: — 
“There Is one certain means,” replied the 
Prince, “ by which 1 can be sure never to see my 
country’s ruin; 1 will die in the last ditch." 
A New York writer says the chief pleasure 
derived by the Bostonians at a musical enter¬ 
tainment Is criticism; and he ventures the state¬ 
ment that “when they go to heaven they will 
declare that some of the harps are out of tuue, 
that one of the angels takes liberties with the 
composer’s text, and another sings flat. They 
will deplore tbe absence of the Boston organ. 
Civility is a fortuuc in itself, for a courteous 
man often succeeds In life, and that oven when 
persons of ability fail. The history of our coun¬ 
try is full of examples of success obtained by 
oivility. The experience of every man furnishes, 
if we but recall the past, frequent instances 
where conciliatory manners have made the for¬ 
tunes of physicians, lawyers, divines, politicians, 
merchants, and Indeed individuals of all pursuits. 
To bo yourself, strictly yourself, is one half 
the battle. Differ, rather than always subscribe. 
On the corner-stone of that fabric which we en¬ 
title manhood Is engraved the monosyllable — 
No. Ho who early learns tho use of that inval¬ 
uable word, has already leurned the way to 
peace, comfort and safety. An easy compliance 
/rustratea everything. Respect for others need 
not degenerate into servitude. 
Written tor Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
HOME BEYOND. 
Toiling along the dusty path of life, 
With downcast eyc9 and heavy feet we go, 
Forgetting how from Heaven descends the rain, 
And cheering dew. 
Earthward wc gaze, and mourn our weary lot. 
Looking for rest amid the scenes of time, 
With Heaven and its unfading flowers forgot • 
lu this dull clime. 
Here wc are travelers; let the way he drear— 
Home is beyond, where all tho weary rest: 
Come, every grief which God sees fit to send 
Is for the best. 
O Home beyond! O Bower of endleBS peace t 
I love to think how soon thy gates I’ll see. 
There, parting words forevermore shall cease, 
And sorrow flee. 
Rutland, Yt. 
Written for Moore’s Ilural New-Yorker. 
CHANGE. 
Mutability, or the liability to change, is 
indelibly stamped upon everything around us. 
Nothing seems durable and unchanged. We 
look with pleasure on the beauties of Nature, 
but that pleasure is greatly modified by the 
knowledge that they are of Bhort duration. 
They are changing—e\c r changing. We turn 
from them and their unsatisfying splendors, to 
the pleasures of Friendship. Here, at least, we 
hope to find an exception to the general rule. 
Our dear friends I Their love and kind offices 
are the delight of our youth, and to them do 
we look for the solace of our declining years. 
But can we be sure of their undying affection ? 
Alas! no. Circumstances may arise in which they 
think themselves justifiable in withdrawing that 
confidence of which wo thought ourselves so 
secure; and when obliged to test the strength 
of their affection, we too often find their pro¬ 
fessed regard like ropes of sand. 
“All that is bright must fade ; 
The brightest , ever fleetest. 
All that is sweet. w»h made 
But to decay, when sweetest.” 
This earth is not, cannot be onr “ only abiding 
place.” We would not wish to think that we 
were designed for no higher existence, and capa¬ 
ble of no loftier attainments, than the unsatisfy¬ 
ing honors, the delusive hopes which seem to 
be the only rewards we receive here. We are 
perpetually baffled in our dearest plans. High 
and glorious aspirations are forever wandering 
about, unsatisfied, in tho temple of our hearts. 
Visions of beauty Impress us with their un¬ 
earthly grandeur, and pass away, leaving us to 
muse on their faded loveliness. The grand mys¬ 
teries of the kingdom of Nature are above the 
grasp of our limited faculties, or arc only partially 
revealed, uiaklua uo cxr-'ience all the miseries 
of Tantalus. 
There is something within us, however, which 
stiff urges us on, and is never satisfied; and it is 
cheering to know that there is a land where 
change is unknown. There, friends are ever 
fond aud true. There, the rainbow never ludes. 
T..ere, all those beautiful forms which are but 
dimly 6een here, or which elude our grasp, will 
be always with us. There, wc 6hall be filled 
with the fullness of knowledge, and be satisfied, 
contented and happy forever. Macib Morton. 
Oakland Moor, 1865. 
GEMS FROM MATTHEW HENRY. 
No marvel if they who can make anything 
serve for a God, make anything serve for a 
priest. 
The ministry is the best calliug, but the worst 
trade in the world. 
Many deceive themselves into a good opinion 
of their state, by .a partial reioruiation. They 
think they are as good as they should be, because 
in some particular Instances they are not so bad 
as they have been; as If the correcting of one 
fault would atone for persisting in all the rest. 
Wc may huve sunbeams if the sun is capped 
in clouds, and the rain drizzling around us; 
sweet tempers, contented minds, and smiling 
laces fill the house with light and comfort when 
tho aun does refuse his glories. Who ever 
gained anything from fretting but unhappiness ? 
And the worst of all is, that wheu we are miser¬ 
able we fret and torment all about us. 0 look 
up to Jesus, the sinner’s friend, aud be of good 
cheer. 
In striving to new-make some people we spoil 
their ability for good. It is true, some unpleasant 
peculiarities may be checked in youth; but when 
habit Is lormed yon may root wheat and tares 
together. If the Masteris willing to put up with 
us, making the most of our good, we surely cau 
bear with oue auother. 
Prayer is a haven to the shipwrecked mariner, 
au auchor unto them that arc sulking in the 
waves, a staff to the limbs that totter, a mine of 
jewels to the poor, a security to the rich, a healer 
of disease, and a guardian of health. Prayer at 
once secures the continuance of our blessings, 
and dissipates the cloud of our calamities. O 
Prayer! 0 blessed Prayer! thou art the tm- ,> 
wearied conqueror of human wees, the firm 
foundation of human happiness, the source of L 
ever during joy. 
You may derive thoughts Irom others, but 
your way of thinking, the mould in which your r 
thoughts are cast, must be your own. Intellect p 
may be Imparted, but not each man’s intellect- L 
ual frame. Js 
Every day is a little life; aud our whole lifo jw 
is but a day repeated. iV] 
mix 
