[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker-] 
THE OLD SPRING. 
Do you remember it, Nellie? The old spring 
at the foot of the hill, that bubbled np clear as 
crystal from its home among the rocks, and went, 
tinkling away over the shining pebbles m a merry 
little rivulet? Do you remember how the azure- 
eyed violets nodded their gracelul heads over the 
sparkling water, and the yellow king-cups stood 
tiptoe ou the mossy 
golden goblets from its clear, i 
the grass-grown foot-path that w 
hill and through the orchurd in 
terminated at t- 
from the o'. 
that shaded it? And, Nellie 
Economy is as much a gift ot birth as the poetic 
gift, or any other element of genius. Some men are 
naturally managers. It is scarcely a matter of 
thought, but rathor of instinct. From their child¬ 
hood, we see tracer of this disposition with many 
happy persons. It only takes a larger field of ac¬ 
tion as they grow np. But the quality itself begins 
with their life and ends only with their death. 
Where one is blessed with good sense, and fair 
opportunities, this spirit of Economy is one of the 
most beneficial of ail secular gifts, and takes high 
rank among the minor virtues. It is by this myste¬ 
rious power (to us always and everywhere pro¬ 
foundly mysterious!) that the loaf is multiplied, 
that using does not waste, that little becomes much, 
that scattered fragments grow to unity, and that out 
of nothing or next to uothing. comes the miracle of 
something! Economy is not merely saving, still 
less, parsimony. It is foresight and arrangement. It 
is insight and combination. It is a subtle philoso¬ 
phy of tilings by which new uses, new compositions 
are discovered 
BY EMILY .1. ADAMS. 
HY FLORENCE I'KRCY 
Father, tins solemn night-time brooding o’er rae 
Hath stirred my soul 0 : deeper thoughts of thee, 
And in thine own great temple to adore thee 
On bended knee. 
Alone a suppliant worshiper and lowly 
I to thy presence come, hut in thy sight 
Abashed I stand ; what offering have I holy 
For thee to-night? 
None, righteous Father, naught save heart unworthy 
That hath been n and'ring from thee all this day ; 
I, trembling, lay the sacrifice before thee, 
Turn not away. 
The gift is proffered in all fear arid meekness ; 
Accept it. Lord, alUinugri so low and mean, 
And give me strength am! courage for my weakness, 
And make mo clean. 
That I may walk upright and pure in spirit; 
When prospered, humbled ; patient thro’ all ill; 
Be of eaeli precious gift that I inherit 
A portion still. 
Grant to me, Lord, with heart to bless the giver, 
A voice forever ready to proclaim 
Thy praise, and eye that is accustomed ever 
To read thy namo 
In every blade of grass or humble flower 
That every hour I crush beneath my tread, 
Or solemn glories that the migdnight hour 
TIangs o’er my head ; 
An ear to hear in every sound that reaches 
In calm or storm from every stream and shore ; 
A voice sublimely solemn that still teaches 
Me to adore. 
And O, for those I love my Lord, my Savior ! 
To night lift 1 my voice nnto thy throne, 
Nor ask thee tokens of thy blessed favor 
For me alone. 
Bless, bless us ail; lead safe thro' Death's dark portal, 
O'er the cold river guide to that bright shore 
Where we shall dwell redeemed and crowned immortal 
For evermore. [Ladies’ lieposilory. 
Beside the toilsome way, 
Lonely and dark, by fruits and flowers unblcst, 
Which my worn feet tread sadly day by day, 
Longing in vain for rest, 
An aiigcl softly walks, 
With pale sweet face, and eyes cast meekly down, 
The while from withered leaves and flowerless stalks 
She weaves my fitting crown. 
A sweet and patient grace, 
A look of firm endurance, true and tried, 
Of suffering meekly borne, rests on her face 
So pure—so glorified. 
And wheu my fainting heart 
Desponds and murmurs at its adverse fate, 
Then quietly the angel's bright lips part, 
Murmuring softly, “ Wait. 
“ Patience!" she sweetly saith.— 
11 The Father's mercies never come too late ; 
Gird thee with path nt strength and trusting faith. 
And firm endurance—wait!" 
Angel, behold, I wait. 
Wearing the thorny crown through all life's hours,— 
Wait till thy hand shall ope the eternal gate, 
A nd change the thorns to flowers! 
Ring, ting ! 1 wish 1 were a pranrw- 
A bright yellow primrose, blooming in the spring! 
The stooping houghs above me, 
The wandering bee to love me, 
The fern and moss to creep across, 
And the elm-tree for our king 1 
Nay, stay ! I wish I were an elm-tree— 
A great lofty elm-tree, with green leaves gay! 
The wind would set them dancing, 
The sun and moonshine glance in, 
And birds would house among the boughs, 
And sweetly sing! 
Oh, no! I wish I were a robtn- 
A robin o. a i >c wren, everywhere to go, 
Through forest, field, or garden, 
And ask no leave or pardon, 
Till winter comes, with icy thumbs, 
To ruffle up our wing I 
Well, tell I Where should I fly to ? 
Where go to sleep in the daik wood or doll ? 
Before a day was over, 
Home must come the rover 
For mother’s kiss, sweeter this 
Than any othor thing. [AUmgham. 
banks, waiting to fill iheir 
cool depths? And 
ound round the 
the valley, till it 
the little rustic gate that peeped out 
’erhanging boughs of the golden willow 
• s, do you remember 
how we fashioned emerald drinking cups from the 
|,road leaves of t he Paw Paw, and filled them at the 
old spring? llow sweet and pure were its waters, 
and bow we laughed as we saw our childish laces 
reflected from its crystal depths. There, too. was 
the old tree where we carved our names. Ah! 
Nellie, we were gladsome children then, our 
brows unshaded by the dreary shadows of the weary 
world. Do you mind the bright airy castles we 
used to build as we sat on the grassy bank beside 
that old spring? How sweet the dreaming—how 
dreary the reality! 
Nellie, they tell me that the old spring is 
unchanged—its waters arc as sweet and clear as in 
other days. The early violets still waft their per¬ 
fumed breath over the rippling brooklet, and the 
rustic gale still stands beneath the willow boughs. 
But where is the happy, childish face that was mir¬ 
rored ou the surface of the bubbling spring? Gone 
_gone forever—and in its place a pale, thiu lace, 
grown old, not with years, but with heart-throbs; 
eye, 3 that have grown dim with unshed tears. 
Homeless! Motherless! 0! Nellie, Nellie, do 
you wonder that 1 long to lold my hands and lie 
down Lo slumber? Homeless, Motherless! O! tor 
a draught from the old spring to cool my levered 
lips and bathe my aching brow. The shadows 
deepen, the hot tears blind my eyes. Homeless! 
Motherless! But, 1 will not repine. A little longer, 
only a little longer, and I shall be homeless no 
more. My mother’s arms shall enfold me, and I 
ehull drink of the living water, more precious by 
It causes inert things, to labor, use¬ 
less things to ^erve necessities, perishing things to 
renew their vigor, and all things to exert themselves 
for human comiort. Economy is generalship in 
little things. 
Here is my worthy friend Plutus, who has amassed 
much money, who lives in no inconsiderable stale, 
is ostentatious in his furnishings, hospitable as good- 
natured vanity prompts, and profuse upon occasion. 
And yet, no man enters his dwelling without a 
6 onse of furniture-suffocation. There is everywhere 
an impression of superfluity. The whole appearance 
of bishousbold is not that of affluence, but of need¬ 
lessness, and wastefulness, life table is overloaded. 
One feels in hdis ining room as if in a parlor-mar¬ 
ket, and in his saloons as if in a museum. 
Close by him lives a neighbor, who rents his 
house, the whole of which might bo swallowed up 
in one story of the ambitious mansion alluded to, 
who is not rich, but lives upon a moderate salary. 
But. all the wealth in the city could not furnish his 
house so admirably as he did ny one single act,, 
when he married the woman, now his wife, whose 
taste, exquisite economy and pweet decorum, spread 
out before him every day that fairest domestic 
panorama—household economy! Her single loaf 
is almost luminous. She buys where others buy. 
And yet, on her table, butter is no longer vulgar 
butter, but must have come from fairy herds, pas 
fared on fragrant grasses, of celestial pastures. The 
simple tea-tray, bearing inexpensive, delf, outshines 
all the gold and silver tea service of her neighbor. 
And yet there is no credit due her. It costs her 
neither pains nor thought. 11 happens so. Every¬ 
thing she touches happens right. Even the babe in 
the cradle 5# exquisitely economical. There is just 
enough of it, not a whit superfluous, fs it her gift 
to evoke beauty, fitness, symmetry and order from 
all things? A single flower lights up her room more 
than a wall full of pictures some other houses. Is 
it strange that her husband thinks that old bachelors 
must be fools? Why should be not? What is his 
but joy? Only in joy fulness is there no economy in 
this household. Of that there is legal abundance, 
and lavish profusion. His mornings come glorious. 
AND WOUNDED SOLDIERS. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker J 
THE! DUTY OF THE HOUR- 
The war is what I want to talk to Rural readerR 
about I want to tell the young men, and the old 
men, too, not lo disgrace their manhood by trying 
to evade the draft; aud I want to tell the sisters and 
wives of those who are taken to Serve their coun¬ 
try, not to disgrace themselves by urging a father 
or brother to stay here idly when their presence is 
bo much more needed in auother direction, and that 
one in which duty calls. I do not deny that they 
are needed here, to a certain extent, but those homes 
which are now made desolate by the absence o! our 
Joved ones, would be made still more so if no 
attempt were made to arrest the ravages ot the toe 
on our borders. You would suffer equally with 
others if they were allowed to come here, and it is 
their duty to go now, as it is j r ours to do all in your 
nnwer to aid aud assist them. There is no sense in 
AID FOR SICK 
TnE following letters from Washington to the 
Rochester Volunteers 1 Aid Society, and the com¬ 
ments of Ihe Secretary of the Society, though re I er¬ 
ring to a local effort, will be read with interest by 
all our readers interested in meeting the wants and 
relieving the sufferings of tlm sick and wounded 
Soldiers of the Union Army. And those engaged 
in preparing articles for the hospitals, and clothing 
for volunteers from their own localities, (as we trust 
thousands of Rural readers are,) will derive useful 
hints by perusing the letters and remarks: 
Washington, 1). C., Oct 23d, 1802. 
Your boxes have arrived. Every thing came 
nicely. Y r ou must have had an experienced pucker. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE MIND. 
Shirley Clair. 
Who can comprehend the mind?—the thinking, 
reasoning, loving, willing, spiritual, immortal part 
of man?—that pari which shall live long after its 
frail casket shall have mol dared back to dust, and 
the earth itself been wrapt in Humes? Without the 
mind, man would be one of the least of living crea¬ 
tures; but with it, he is ‘‘the noblest work of God 
in this lower world." By the aid of that, he has 
been able to search out the wonders of the globe we 
tread on; lo make the winds, the waters, and the 
lightning, the messengers of bis will; and, while 
the body is still confined to this mundane sphere, to 
soar away into the boundless regions of space, and 
discern the magnitude, density and motion of yon 
twinkling worlds. 
It has been truly said, that ‘'the human mind can 
comprehend almost everything except itself.'' It 
can philosophize on the mechanism of our owu 
world and tar distant worlds; but when it turns its 
researches within itself, it is lost in the boundless 
depths of its own infinitude. It can trace the paths 
ot hundreds of worlds, as they move on nothing in 
their prescribed courses: but is bewildered in try¬ 
ing to follow the mazy labyrinths of its own jour- 
It can measure the magnitude of suns 
WHAT IS A LADY P 
A great deal of argument is going the rouuds 
respecting the title of lady and the name of woman. 
The expression “Lady "is so much abused, that I 
infinitely prefer the sweet, unpretending title of 
woman. If we could hut silt the chaff from the 
wheat, abrogate all the eeli-styled “ladies, there 
could be no objecting to the title; but ministers of 
grace defend ns from some ladies of the present 
day. who do not even know why a woman Bhould 
be so called. A lady must possess perfect refine¬ 
ment and intelligence. She must be gracious, affa¬ 
ble, and hospitable, without the slightest degree of 
fussiness. She must be a Christian, mild, gentle, 
and charitable, unostentatious, and doing good by 
stealth. She must he deaf to scandal and gossip. 
She must possess discrimination, knowledge of 
human nature, mid tact sufficient to avoid offending 
one's weak points, steering wide of all subjects 
which may be disagreeable to any one. She must 
look upon personal cleanliness and freshness of 
attire as next to uodliness. Her dress must be in 
neymgs. 
and planets, but can invout nothing capable of 
defining its own vastness. It can trace on glowing 
canvass the beauly of face and figure; but what pen 
or pencil can describe the grandeur of a sold made 
perfect in the “ beauty of holiness,” as it rises in the 
glory of its majesty, to hold communion with the 
great Fountain Soul of all souls? 
The very existence of a thing so wonderful shows 
plainly that it must have had a Creator, and that 
that Creator must have been vastly superior to the 
human mind—for the maker must always exceed 
the thing made. We talk of the wonders emanating 
from the baud of the artist; and yet they are hut 
feeble miniatures of the great mind that designed 
them. And how infinitely great must be the Being 
that could form that mind—that wonderful, myste¬ 
rious thing, which in the vividness of its imagina¬ 
tion could conceive that, noble work, and by the 
power of its will could make the members ot the 
body move in perfect subjection to it, and transfer 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
PUBLIC SPIRIT. 
The man who can say “my country is the world, 
my countrymen all mankind,” is the representative 
man of this age and country. He goes forth into 
the world, and meeting strangers, lookB into the 
“soul's windows” to find if there be redeeming 
traits. Ho is gracious and hospitable to the stran¬ 
ger; he recognizes in him a brother. 
open-L. 
man is 
neighborhood. 
Generous 
hearteduesa is admired by all men. and such a 
known and respected in his immediate 
1 . He is the leading man there, be¬ 
cause he is williug to sacrifice for the good of his 
neighbors. He is known and respected abroad, for 
a people, no matter how blinded by self, choose just 
such men to represent them. They know that his 
mind is comprehensive, ana can grasp the great 
questions of State or National policy, and they 
appoint him to govern them. Such men are the 
Washingtons, the Jeffersons of their country. 
Contrast with such men the man of one idea, the 
tight-fisted, grim-visaged sharper, the “pinch-six¬ 
pence” man, who looks upon everybody as a rogue. 
The man who is ungracious to strangers, who can 
find no redeeming trails in human character, such a 
man is unknown and nnhonored in this world, and 
unmistakably lostin the next. For who would wish 
to keep a miser or a misanthropist on the other side 
of death. 
Taken even in a selfish sense, generous, open- 
hearted public spirit pays; pays in dollars and 
cents; pays in happiness here; pays after death. 
Then throw off this iron despotism of the almighty 
dollar, ye who are tortured in its inquisition, and 
resolve to live for the good of humanity. This 
done, a downy pillow awaits your weary head, 
from earth to heaven; 
WOMEN TOO CREDULOUS 
how many more he has inveigled into a similar 
snare in other places may be left to the imagination. 
He was poor, not. well dressed, not good looking, 
and possessed of but smalt powers of conversation; 
and still be made love triumphantly wherever he 
went to some fair creature, and won her heart and 
baud only to leave her in a melancholy dilemma 
shortly afterwards. Can it be that they so fear the 
idea of the position of an “ old maid,” that they 
gT»‘<p at the chance of acquiring a husband, without 
paSing to estimate his worth or study his charac¬ 
ter? Whatever maybe the reason that women so 
readily become the dupes of designing men, it is 
palpable that very little^ tins are taken by many of 
them to ascertain who aud what a suitor is, when he 
applies for a lady's hand. It rarely, indeed, happens 
that a stranger in a town is incapable of supplying, 
when asked, some reliable evidence of his antece¬ 
dents; and who has a better right to demand the 
production of such evidence, than a woman who is 
on the eve of entrusting to his care her whole 
future? She neglects her duty to herself, to her 
friends, to her reputation, il she fails to secure some 
proof of his sincerity in his representations; and his 
object must be a sinister one if he takes offence at 
such a scrutiny, or attempts to throw obstacles in 
the way of an arrival, on her part, at a complete 
knowledge of his position and prospects. 
Poverty. —Bulwer says that poverty is only an 
idea, in nine cases out of ten. Some men with ten 
thousand dollars a year suffer more for want of 
means than others with three hundred. The rea¬ 
son is, the richer man has artificial wants. His in¬ 
come is ten thousand dollars, and by habit he 
spends twelve or fifteen thousand, and he suffers 
enough from being dunned for unpaid debts to kill 
a sensitive man. A man who earns a dollar a day 
and does not run in debt, is the happiest of the two. 
Very few people who have never been rich will be¬ 
lieve this, but it is true as God's word. There are 
people, of course, who are wealthy, and enjoy their 
wealth’ but there are thousands, with princely in¬ 
comes, who never know a moment’s peace, because 
they live above their means. There is really more 
happiness in the world among working people than 
those who are called rich. 
Extract from a sermon, on Proverbs, chapter 76, 
verse 10, by Rev. Hugh Blair, D. D., a Scotch cler¬ 
gyman, of the last century: 
While the wrath of man thus praises God by the 
advantages which it is made to bring to good men 
as individuals, the Divine hand is equally apparent 
in the similar effects which it is appointed to pro¬ 
duce to nations and societies. When wars and com¬ 
motions shake the earth, when factions rage, and 
Internecine divisions embroil kingdoms that before 
w*™ fbmrisbiner. Providence seems, at first view, to 
a heart of stone would be moved to see all tbau'tro 
saw there in one hour. Mrs. M. says send second 
hand flannel shirts, and keep the new ones your¬ 
selves. ft is not too late to make catsup or to dry 
fruit, where such an abundance prevails as in West¬ 
ern New York. Respectfully, 
Julia A. Wilbur. 
when you wing your way 
this neglected,- 
amou; 
every patriotic heart—the kind provision of deli¬ 
cacies and comforts, for our wounded, sick and 
Buffering soldiers. We would solicit, both from city 
and country, such articles of food and clothing as 
are most needed by invalids. Half-worn shirts and 
drawers, especially of flannel, are much called for. 
Boiled cider, apple sauce, pickles, dried fruits and 
fresh butter would be very acceptable. Contribu¬ 
tions may be left at Mrs. Bellows’, corner of South 
Washington and Spring streets, Rochester. 
Caroline Mann, Secy. 
Rochester, Nov. T, 1802. 
Inward Life. — The age is splendid in its exter¬ 
nalities. We have the most gorgeous upholstery of 
civilization that has ever been woven since the 
world was made, the most splendid implements, 
the mest gorgeous vehicles; but I do not think we 
have as true an inward life,as correct a conscience, as 
deep aud thoughtful a heart as men of other ages 
human passions; yet, from the midst of this confu¬ 
sion, order is often made to spring, and from these 
mischiefs lasting advantages to arise. By such con¬ 
vulsions nations are aroused from that dangerous 
lethargy into which flowing wealth, long peace, and 
growing effeminacy ot manners had sunk them. 
They are awakened to discern their true interests, 
and taught to take proper measures for security and 
defense against all their foes. Inveterate prejudices 
are corrected, and latent sources of danger are dis¬ 
covered; public spirit is called forth, and larger 
views of national happiness are formed: the cor¬ 
ruptions to which every government is liable are 
garrulous over the incidents of the battle. T he 
most of these gallant fellows are in the Alexandria 
hospitals, though some are at Falls Church. One 
mau in an Alexandria hospital, who had lost an arm 
was the happiest fellow, the night he was brought 
in, that I ever saw. 
u You are in good spirits for a wounded man !” 
said a stranger to him. 
He looked up from his cot with a smiting, happy 
face, and replied 
have had: and one of the great things we need is, to 
counterbalance this external tendency by coming 
back a little to the inward. And not only this, but 
we must remember that if we are living in the out¬ 
ward entirely, if externalities completely absorb us, 
we are losing the real resort of all life.— E.. H. 
Chapin. 
Very well Put— Some one writes both grace¬ 
fully and forcibly: “I would be glad to see more 
parents understand that when they spend money 
judiciously to improve and adorn tho house, and 
The Deserted Room. —Few things are calcu¬ 
lated to make a more painful impression than the 
view of empty rooms, once containing within their 
walls so much of the warmth, and light, and joy of 
life. There is a voice in their silence, ever pro¬ 
claiming the mutability of human things ; the dull 
ashes in the cheerless grate are emblematical of the 
decaying embers aforetime brightly burning in 
bosoms now changed and cold ; the remnants of a 
string which lie about the floors, are types ot the 
broken fibers whch once bound some lend heart to a 
Cherished object, severed now, but still refusing to 
quit their hold. It is nothing to tell us that “ the 
change is for the better,” that “ they were glad to 
leave,” that “ they would be much better off when 
they are gone,”—but who has not felt the fallacious 
character of such comfort, in the bitterness of a 
parting hour? 
Crinoline among the Orientals.— The French 
papers publish acconnts of the expedition of M. 
Lambert to Madagascar. Its object being prima¬ 
rily the spread of civilization and toleration, the 
envoy took out. for the princesses of that island an 
abundant stock of crimson robes, having skirts 
resplendent with embroidery, sent by her imperial 
Majesty. But the object, of universal interest 
among the fair was the expanding crinoline, which 
took everything else down, the only question being 
whether it should be worn above or beneath the 
dress. A French officer says that one of Radama’s 
daughters decided on wearing the “cage" cm the 
outside, and probably that will be the fashion in 
Madagascar. 
I have saved 
my life, and' now 1 have got something to show to 
my family as long as I live. My children won’t be 
a.hamed to have it known that I lost that arm fight¬ 
ing lor my country. No, sir ! I doubt if now 1 
would have that arm put on again. My grandfather 
lost a leg in the Revolutionary War. Our family 
boasted of that for near a hundred years. It was 
about time that somebody else did something for the 
family. The old story was getting to be a little too 
old; and now, sir, you see that I am the hero of the 
family.” 
There was patriotism, pride of character and phi¬ 
losophy from a common soldier. 
