jpdies’ 
• Written for Moore’e Rural New-Yorker. 
WILD HADASSAH. 
BT GEOROE II. POWERS. 
Who is she ?—the queenly maiden- 
bitting in the oaken chair, 
Curling, combing out the Goeses 
Of her dark, luxuriant hair. 
See the melancholy softness 
* Brooding in her liquid eyes, 
Like a flash of dreamy moonlight 
Wandering over Paradise. 
C'an you guess the meaning of this, 
Why the somber of her eyes 
Sparkles like a wave of moonbeams 
Dipping Into Paradise f 
’Tis because her mind Is shattered,— 
Know* she neither night nor day! 
Life is almost dead within her— 
Giant Mama holds its sway! 
From a bunch of soiled loiters, 
Yellow with the u se jfif lmc, 
May be gathered 
Written in lo\ rhyme. 
For the rest—go rend the story, 
How a faithless lover broke 
The fouil heart of trusting maiden— 
Reason kneeling to the stroke! 
Written tor Moore's Rnral New-Yorker. 
BIRD-SONG IN PROSE. 
The freest, gayest, happiest creature that 
breathes the air of Heaven, on light distended 
wing I sport from tree to tree, from wood to 
wood. Fearless and unfettered as the listless 
wind, I perch me on the clond-capt mountain 
pinnacle, whose towering summit laughs to 
scorn the puny strength of human loot to tread. 
I skim that boundless meadow of space above 
which stretches the lamp-hung dome of my 
sylvan Louie, and, soon as the day-king springs 
from bis eastern couch, bathe in his first rich, 
yellow beams, ere yet they have received a taint 
from earth. 
To me there is no solitude. The God whom I 
adore, ever dwelling in His forest, sanctuary, 
teaches me to find companionship in every leaf 
and flower and every living thing. The babbling 
brook and the bright, smooth pebble mirrored 
in its glassy wave, and even the quick-cleaving 
lightning and the hoarse-muttering thunder in¬ 
spire me with no fear, for in them, too, I see 
evidences of His pervading care. 
But did you cvcrwitness our summer-morning 
revels Y At earliest day-spring the deep, holy 
silence is broken by the clear, startling note of 
tbe alarm bird, and, oue by one, the green woods 
ring with a thousand gleeful tones; and oh 1 the 
wild, pulse-maddening play, as, yielding to the 
inspiration of that stirring hour, the healthful 
blood goes dancing through the veins, while 
tbe long, loud anthem swells to a full chorus to 
greet the rising 6un. Our riSolian harp, swept 
by the fingers ef the wind, accompanies the 
aerial choir of voices, attuned to a melody that 
knows no discord, in chanting the praises of on 
Omnipotence whose bounty demands no other 
homage than an unceasing ccstacy of enjoy¬ 
ment. 
Thus careless of the morrow—our common 
store-house the universal earth, plenteously sup¬ 
plied by our Mother Nature, the handmaid of 
the Most High—slaking our thirst at the living 
fountain that wells up pure and sweet from the 
solid rock—secured by a leafy canopy from the 
dripping rain and the scorching noon-tide blaze 
—earth presents no happier race than ours. 
South Livonia, N. Y., 1866. a. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
UTILITY OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 
Tiieke are times when the cup of joy seems 
full,— when the sparkling eye and the glowing 
countenance give utterance to the pleasures ol 
the soul. There are other times when the care¬ 
worn expression of every feature tells of wearing 
toil, business perplexities, overwhelming grief, 
or continued disappointments that, are driving 
hope from the heart. At such t imes, who does 
not find relief In contemplating tfle beautiful 
scenes which (ion’s lavish hand has everywhere 
spread before us Y Who does not feel that these 
communions with Nature arc a sweet relaxation 
from the exhausting labors of lift; y Surely, no 
one confined much within doors, by stern duties, 
can return from a June morning walk, amid 
green fields, bright green leaves, and the sweet 
melodies of beautiful birds, without feeling his 
cares lightened, his heart made better, and with¬ 
out fresh courage to enter into the daily conflicts 
with men. 
Beauty exerts a hallowed influence over the 
stubborn heart of erring man. When tempta¬ 
tions beset him, St throws around him a gentle 
restraint ; when infariated by violent passions it 
exerts over him a soothing power that calms his 
turbulent spirit and stays the revengeful hand. 
The tendency of the beautiful is to make vice 
more odious and virtue more attractive; self 
is forgotten, laudable emotions are excited, 
thought is purified, and the mind is turned to 
objects of the most exalted character. Associa¬ 
tions with the truly beaut iful afford us the purest, 
holiest pleasures, and the influences of such asso¬ 
ciations are the most sacred. True beauty is the 
emblem of innocence and purity. It came from 
Heaven 
“ To cheer the soul when tired of human strife, 
To soothe the wayward heart by sorrow rent, 
And soften down the rugged road of life.” 
Greene, N. Y.,1E®6. L. D. B. 
If you love others they will love yen. if you 
speak kindly to them, they will speak kindly. 
Love is repaid with love, and hatred with hatred. 
Would you hear a sweet and pleasant echo, 
speak sweetly and pleasantly yourself. 
FUTURE HOUSEKEEPING. 
We sometimes catch ourselves wondering 
how many of the young ladies whom we meet 
with, are to perform the part of housekeepers, 
wbt-n tlie young men who now eye them so ad¬ 
miringly, have persuaded them to become their 
wives? We listen to those young ladies of 
whom we speak, and hear them not only ac- 
I knowledging, but boasting of their ignorance 
! of all household duties, as it nothing would so 
lower them in the estimation of their friends, as 
the confession of an ability to make bread and 
I pies, or cook a piece of meat, or a disposition to 
engage iu any useful employment. 
Speaking from our own youthful recollections, 
we are free to say that taper tiDgers and lily 
hands are very pretty to look at with a young 
man’s eyes, and sometimes we have known the 
artless innocence of practical knowledge dis¬ 
played by a young miss to appear rather inter¬ 
esting than otherwise. But we have lived long 
enough to learn that life la full of rugged expe¬ 
riences, and that the most loving, romantic aDd 
delicate people must live on cooked or other¬ 
wise food, and the house kept dean and tidy by 
industrious hands. And for all the practical 
purposes of married life, it is generally found 
that for a husband to sit and gaze at a wiie’s 
taper fingers and lily hands, or fora wile to sit 
and be looked at and admired, does not make 
the pot boil, or put tbe smallest piece of food 
therein .—New Age. 
AMERICAN CHILDREN. 
Mr. Tkoi.i.oi’E does not have faith in the 
good results ol' American training for children, 
and expresses his views of the matter as follows: 
“I must protest that American babies are an 
unhappy race. They eat and drink just as they 
please; they are never punished; they are never 
banished, snubbed and kept in the back-ground, 
as children are with us, ar.d yet they are wretched 
and uncomfortable. My heart has bled for them, 
as I have heard them squalling, by the hour 
together, in the agonies of discontent and dys¬ 
pepsia. Cau it be wondered that children are 
happier when they are made to obey orders and 
sent to bed at six o’clock, than when allowed to 
regulate their own conduct; that bread and milk 
are more favorable to soft, childish ways than 
beefsteak and pickles threetimesaday; that an 
occasional whipping, even, will conduce tef rosy 
cheeks ? It is an idea that I should never dare 
approach to an American mother; hut I must 
confess that, after my travels on the western 
continent, my opinions have a tendency in that 
direction. Beefsteak and pickles certainly pro¬ 
duce smart little men and women. Let that be 
taken for granted. But rosy laughter and win¬ 
ning, childish ways are, I fancy, the product of 
bread and milk. 
€Mtt Mluzllmg, 
"Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
THE STARS. 
The stars how brilliantly they shine, in heaven's blue 
arch above, 
I've often thought their glances bent on sinfal man 
in love; 
They seem to wear the same kind look they did 
when childhood’s eye 
First with Its wondering, earnest gaze, discerned 
them in the sky. 
How often then In twilight’s hour I stood and gazed 
alone, 
On all the thousand sparkling gems that in yon blue 
vault shone. 
They eemed to smile on me so mild, and bless the 
eager look 
With which I marked the beauteous things in na- 
tlire's open book. 
When Spring her verdant mantle cast, and flowerets 
sprang to birth, 
There In yon heaven with looks of light they shone 
on this fair earth, 
When Summer, with her sober look, so slowly o’er 
us came, 
They still shone on in quietness, and brightness all 
the same; 
And Autumn, with her treasures rare, still found them 
ever I me; 
And Winter, too, when o’er the earth his icy chain 
he threw. 
I loved them, and my heart went forth their shining 
looks to meet; 
They seemed to wear a pleasant look, my wond’ring 
looks to greet. 
And now when upward there I gaze, though I'm 
from home afar, 
I seem to find a friendly face in ev’ry twinkling star. 
Though ’tia but fancy, yet methlnks it lightens many 
an hour, 
To think they're kindly watching us, when round us 
sorrows lower. 
They speak to me of higher things, and tqll me of 
His love. 
Who formed the starry worlds, and taught each in its 
course to move; 
Who guides the creatures He has made, and loves 
them one and all, 
And even marks, when to the ground, the tiny spar¬ 
row’s fall. 
And happy we, who thro’ His works, His wisdom 
e'er can view’; 
And can with Him, through Nature fair, communion 
sweet renew. 
Elkhorn, Wis. b. c. d. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
WHOM MAY WE TRUST 1 
FUN AT HOME. 
Don’t be afraid of a little fun at home, good 
people. Don’t shut up your house lest the sun 
Bbould fade your carpels, and your heart lest a 
hearty laugh shake dow*n some of the musty old 
cobwebs there. If you want to ruin your sous, 
let them thiuk that all mirth and social enjoy¬ 
ment must be left on the threshold without, 
when they come home at night. When once a 
home is regarded as only a place to eat, drink 
and sleep in, the work begins that ends in gam¬ 
bling bouses and reckless dissipation. Young 
people must have fun and relaxation somewhere; 
if they do not find it at their own hearthstones 
it will be sought at other and perhaps less profit¬ 
able places. Therefore let the fire burn brightly 
at night, and make the homestead delightful 
with all those little arts that parents perfectly 
understand. Don’t repress the buoyant spirits 
of yonr children; half an hour of merriment 
round the lamp aud fire-light of a home, blots 
out the remembrance of many a care and annoy¬ 
ance during tbe day, and the best safeguard they 
can take with them into the world is the uuseen 
influence of a bright little domestic fireside. 
Crinoline Vanishing.—I f Paris is still des¬ 
tined to give tbe law in matters of female attire, 
says tiie Pall Mall Gazette, the dayE of crinoline 
are numbered. Tbo doubting Parisienne is 
gradually abandoning that much abused institu¬ 
tion. For morning dresses the iron cage is still 
used as a necessary adjunct to the looped-up 
skirt, which it serves to keep high aud dry out 
of tiie mud. But in the evening it is the fashion 
to wear a long trailing dress called a queue ala 
couidc. What is lost in breadth ie more than 
compensated in length, and it is doubtful wheth¬ 
er, as far as general convenience is concerned, 
this change is for the better. 
“Sue always made Home Happy.”— Such 
was the brief but impressive sentiment which a 
friend wished us to add to an obituary notice of 
“ one who had gone before.” What better trib¬ 
ute could be offered to the memory of the 
loved aud lost? Eloquence, with her loftiest 
eulogy, poetry, with her most thrilling dirge, 
could afl’ord nothing so sweet, so touching, so 
suggestive of the virtues of the dead, as those 
simple words:— 11 She always made home happy.” 
-- — - ■ ■ ■» — 
Labor is Genius. —When a lady once asked 
Turner, the celebrated English painter, what his 
secret was, he replied, “I have no secret, madam, 
but bard work. This is a secret that many never 
learned, and don’t succeed because they don’t 
learn it. Labor is the genius that changes the 
world from tigllness to beauty, and tbe great 
curse to a great blessing.” 
We talk of tbe rewards of approving con¬ 
science, but it seems a little bard to devote one’s 
life to labors of love, and receive no more pal¬ 
pable compensation. He who has a uame, never 
60 humble, if it be tbo garner of affection, may 
defy tbe changes and chances of the outer world. 
When the mind of man was yet unstained by 
sin, and pride, envy and deceit bad not incor¬ 
porated themselves into our natures, this must 
indeed have been a happy world. All was truth, 
sincerity and love. Hatred and treachery were 
not then hidden beneath the ever-ready smile, 
nor was crime larking beneath a fair exterior. 
But affairs have greatly changed. The worid is 
full of fraud and deceit. In early youth we 
know it not, hut in our childish simplicity and 
faith, yield ourselves to every inviting hand. In 
more advanced age, as we near a state of man¬ 
hood or womanhood, do we bco more of this 
disposition,—but not till we have tasted the bit¬ 
terness of the betrayal of confidence do wc 
begin to inquire “ who are our friends?” 
There was oue of our own age, whom we met 
at that old school, where we passed so many 
happy hours. He seemed sincere in all his pro¬ 
fessions of friendship aud we believed that he 
would be true. The thought did not enter our 
mind that he, whom we believed so noble aud 
free from deception, could bo moving beneath 
the banner of policy. But alas 1 how blind are 
we to the secret thoughts of our companions. 
He played his part well, until he thought his 
most favorable moment had come, when he be¬ 
gan to act. lie had those to deal with who were 
true to each other and his planning proved of 
but little avail. A lady of our acquaintance, 
having failed in playing Die same game, found 
herself deserted and despised by her old com¬ 
panions. 
Such characters are aisdaiued by all, yet how 
many there are of them! We meet them on 
every promenade—in the drawing-room and in 
places of public worship. They mingle with 
us iu every day life, extending the hand of 
“friendship,” (as it wobld be termed,) and 
greeting us with a smile, as though to express 
their pleasure. Such “ friends ” may be desired 
by some, but as for me I more admire one who 
has the manliness to come to me and say, “ I 
hate you,” when that sentiment is in his heart, 
than to see him, snake-like, lying ever near me, 
eager to exercise his power of “back-biting.” 
He is much more to be respected who is not 
ashamed to have his cause of displeasure known, 
than he who will exert himself to avoid you, for 
fear he might be requested to give a reason for 
his coldness. 
Though there are very many of these “ false- 
berated” personages, yet I wonld not make all 
people such. Far from that 1 There are a few, 
scattered here and there, throughout society, 
who are all they seem to be. It affords us pleas¬ 
ure to meet with such, while performing the 
great journey of life. The weary mind can un¬ 
veil its cares to such a friend and find a true 
sympathizer. We turn to them for aid, in times 
of afflic tion, and go not away unrewarded. They 
grieve at our distress and rejoice when we are 
glad. When the mind is weighed down by sor¬ 
row and the world 6eems dark and gloomy — 
when we are about, to relinquish the object c f 
long labor and fall back in despondency—a word 
from one in whom we trust Beems to give us 
new strength to struggle on yet a little longer. 
A true aud constant friend is, indeed, a rich 
treasure, but such are very rare. If we would 
be valued for true worthiness let us live true to 
ourselves and we will he true others. 
Williamsfield, Ohio. Clarence G. 
There is no keener sting to pain than the 
memory of former pleasure. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TWO DESPERATE FOES. 
Beware of two desperate assassins who are 
prowling about, in every part of the country, 
plundering, burning, and murdering—destroy¬ 
ing both property aud person. T housands of 
true, noble men Lave fallen by the hands of these 
two merciless ruffians,who, had they been spared 
might have been ornaments to society, and 
blessings to the world. They attack not only 
men, but women and children —not only the 
wealthy, hut rich aud poor alike. They not 
only destroy property, but they kindle the fires 
of passion—consume the body and the soul. 
They not only make life miserable, but their 
hateful influence debases the mind—“the im¬ 
mortal part, that was not born to die”—and 
thus extends beyond the bounds of Time, into 
tbe great Hereafter. 
They create in the soul a lingering lust that 
burns with an unholy and unceasing fire, des¬ 
troying all that is beautiful there, leaving the 
blackened brands oi infamy where once the 
flowers of innocence and purity were wont to 
grow. Their victims are in every town. In 
every burial-ground wcflnd tbe remains *f those 
whose ruin they have wrought They make our 
paupers and our criminals—they fill our asylums 
aud our prisons. They rob the widow and the 
orphan of their home, and turn them out upon 
the world, friendless, homeless, and forsaken. 
Oh ! I have seen a noble, generous man, in the 
vigor of his manhood — the pride of his friends, 
the hope of his family—in a few short weeks, cut 
down, leaving his wife a widow, and his chil¬ 
dren orphans—his home, his property, his all, 
being taken by these two vagabonds, who W’ere 
his murderers. 
Reader, these two desperadoes are hurrying 
thousands of your fellow men into premature 
graves, every year. They rob you of your 
money, and your noblest, truest men. And yet 
you retain your temper, and extend the hand, 
instead of pointing tbe artillery. 
The names of these t wo relentless enemies of 
the human race are — Rum and Brandy. 
Rodman, N. Y., 1866. D. M. Hodoe. 
WANT OF DECISION. 
A great deal of labor is lost to the world for 
the want of a little courage. Every day sends 
to their graves a number of obscure men, who 
have only remained in obscurity because their 
timidity has prevented them from makiDg a first 
effort, and who If they had only been induced 
to begin, would in all probability have gone great 
lengths in the career of fame. Tbe fact is, that 
in doing anything in the world worth doing, we 
must not stand shivering on the bank, thinking 
of the cold and danger, but jump in and scram¬ 
ble through as well as we can. It will not do to 
be perpetually calculating risks and adjusting 
nice chances; it did all very well before the 
flood, when a man could consult his friends upon 
an Intended publication for a hummed and fifty 
years, aud live to see its success for six or seven 
centuries afterward; but at present a man waits 
and doubts, and consults bis brothers, and un¬ 
cles, and Ids particular friends, till one day he 
finds that he is sixty-five years of age, and that 
he has lost so much time in consulting first 
cousins and particular friends that he has no 
more time to follow their advice. There is so 
little time for over squeamlshness at present, 
that the opportunity slips away. The very 
period of life at w’hich a man eboo6C6 to venture, 
if ever, is so confined that it is no bad rule to 
preach up the necessity, in such instances, of a 
little violence done to the feelings, and efforts 
made iu defiance of strict and sober calcula¬ 
tions.— Sidney Smith. 
TO YOUNG MEN. 
Your course in life will be iu a great degree 
what you choose to make it. You may become 
distinguished in some department of labor, or 
live, known only by a small circle of acquaint¬ 
ances. You may be useful in exerting an influ¬ 
ence for good and leave an elevated impression 
on the minds of those with whom you have been 
associated, or yon may be a “plague spot” in 
society, and remembered only for mischief done 
during a course of folly aud infamy. 
In a country like our own, where nobility ol 
birth cannot command position independent of 
capability, the sphere of action is exceedingly 
large. The avenues to usefulness and distinc¬ 
tion are numerous, and the facilities for acquir¬ 
ing the requisite means of advancement are 
within the grasp of every young person in the 
ordinary walks of life. Raise, then, the stand¬ 
ard of attainment high, have lofty aims and 
noble aspirations. Never be satisfied with pres¬ 
ent attainments, much less with those of your 
predecessors who have been placed in similar 
circumstances. 
CORRECT SPEAKING. 
We advise all young people to acquire in early 
life tbe habit of using good language, both in 
speaking and writing, and to abandon as early as 
possible the use of slang words and phrases. 
The longer they live the more difficult the acqui¬ 
sitions of good language will he; and if the 
golden age of youth, the proper season for the 
acquisition of language, be passed iu its abuse, 
tbe unfortunate victim of neglected education is 
very probably doomed to talk slang for life. 
Money is not necessary to procure this educa¬ 
tion. Every man has it in his power. He has 
merely to use the language which he reads in¬ 
stead of the slang which he hears; to form his 
taste from the best speakers and poets of the 1 
country; to treasure up choice phrases in his * 
memory, and habituate himself to their use, 
avoiding at the same time that pedantic pre¬ 
cision and bombast which show rather the weak- < 
ness of a vain ambition than the polish of an 1 
edneated mind. 1 
afckth fflusiap. 
IN MEMORIAM OF WINFIELD SCOTT. 
IS/LA.^ 29, 186G. 
BY ERNEST TREVOR. 
Let the bell toll. 
The warrior’s gone to rest, 
For Death has touched, 
What fear ne’er did, his breast, 
Let the bell toll. 
Let the bell toll. 
The war of life is o'er. 
He hears the welcome 
Of the other shore. 
Let the bell toll. 
Let the bell toll. 
The Nation monrns her son, 
But says, 'mid tears, 
“His wreath was nobly won.” 
Let the bell toll. 
Let the bell toll. 
He saw our glory rise, 
Joyed at its noon. 
Died "mid snuny skies. 
Let the bell toll. 
Let the bell toll. 
. We give him to the earth— 
A sacred trust—to wait 
The second birth— 
Let the bell toll. 
[Leslie's Illustrated Newepapir, 
Written tor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
FOREBODINGS. 
Why overshadow the Present with sad fore¬ 
bodings for the Future, the key to wliich is held 
alone by the hand of God ? And yet how many 
a life is made desolate, how many a fireside 
clouded by anticipations of something, which 
may never occur, and because of an unwilling¬ 
ness to trust the future in the hands of Him to 
whom we owe our life and being! Does not 
Nature teach us the simple lesson of faith ? Did 
the seasons ever fail to come aud go ? When 
the autumn leaves fall, leaving the trees to 
stretch their naked arms toward Heaven, do we 
doubt the coming of another spring-time that 
shall clothe them in beauty and verdure ? Why 
then should we doubt the wisdom and goodness 
of God in hiding the future from our view ? 
Oh ye who go about with solemn faces, mur¬ 
muring because of some imaginary evil —trem¬ 
bling lest the future shall not be strewn with 
rpses—go learn a lesson of meekness and con¬ 
tentment from the robin warbling fortlrihis song 
ol praise—from the blue-eyed violet Just peeping 
from the earth where it has lain Bidden under 
the winter snows—and then take up.the burden 
of life with a cheerful heart; so living and acting 
in the present that when it shall have mingled 
with the past there may be no vain regrets for 
misspent hours and idle muimurings. 
C&zenovlo, N- Y., 18*36. S. E. TT. 
SABBATH REST. 
William Pitt died of apoplexy at the early 
age of 47. When the destinies of nations hung 
in large measure on his doings, he felt com¬ 
pelled to give an unremitting attention to affairs 
of state. Sabbath brought no rest to him, and 
60 on the unwilling brain gave signs of exhaus¬ 
tion. But bis presence in Parliament was con¬ 
ceived to be indispensable for explanation and 
defense of the public policy. Under such cir¬ 
cumstances, it was his custom to cat heartily of 
substantial food, most highly seasoned, just be¬ 
fore going to his place, in order to afford the 
body that strength, and to excite the mind to 
that activity deemed necessary to the moment¬ 
ous occasion. But under the high tension both 
brain and body perished prematurely. 
Not long ago one of the most active business 
men of Euglaud deliberately determined' to de¬ 
vote his Sabbaths to his accounts. Wealth came 
in upon him like a flood. He purchased a coun¬ 
try-seat, determining that he would now have 
rest aud quiet. But it was too late. He be¬ 
came apoplectic. Although his life was not 
destroyed, he only lives the wreck of a man.— 
Hall's Journal. 
Questions Answered. — A sophist wishing 
to puzzle Thales, a Milesian, one of the wisest 
men of Greece, proposed to him, iu rapid suc¬ 
cession, these difficult questions: 
The philosopher replied to them all without 
the least hesitation, and with how much propri¬ 
ety the reader can judge for himself. 
What, is the oldest of all things ? 
God, because he always existed. 
What is most beautiful ? 
The world, because it is the work of God. 
What is the greatest of all things ? 
Space, because it contains all that is created. 
What is quickest of ail things ? 
Thought, because in a moment it can fly to 
the end of the universe. 
Christian Forgiveness requires that we 
shall cherish no feelings of malice or revenge 
against a wrong doer, but feelings of personal 
kindness. It does not require, however, that we 
shall not assert our wrongs and withstand tbe 
wrong-doer, as Paul did the Phillippiau magis¬ 
trates, and Jesus the officer who smote him. It 
does not require that we shall receive him into 
our confidence and fellowship. It forbits it. H 
requires that we 6hall stand aloof from him.— 
Jesus does it towards his wrongdoers, and we 
should not aspire to go ahead of him. Sufficient 
should it be if we can but follow him. 
Fear not to have every action of your lu- 
open to the inspection of mankind. Remember 
that a nicer casuist than man 6ees into your 
least actions. Auswer to Him, and fear no man. 
