GOSSIP AND SLANDER, 
bluBhing! Now, who could look up to such a 
man ? How much would he help a wife to pro¬ 
gress, morally or intellectually ? I should con¬ 
sider a woman falling far short of her wifely du¬ 
ties, if. at the end of * lve y eara bcr did 
not feel that he was a better man for her living 
presence. And a man must be a poor husband 
if at the end of five years his wife cannot feel that 
Rhe has gained a clearer perception of things 
high and lolty in the intellectual world. But 
woman is oftener the slave than the companion 
of man. And if I am au old maid, I believe I’m 
quite as happy sitting here In my cozy room by 
the shaded window, as I should be to be the 
slave of any man. Not long ago I had a letter 
from a bride of only a few months. She Bftid, 
“I’ve a good man, but If I was in your place I 
never would marry.” And I think I never will. 
I’ve no one to expect me to obey orders; no 
crying children to fret and scold at from morn¬ 
ing till night, and if I’m not happy, there’s no 
husband to blame in the case. So I’ll continue 
to be an old maid. 
Oakland Co., Mich., 1866. 
THE LORD’S PRAYER 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
THE DAUGHTER’S PLEADING. 
BY GEO. E. DAVENPORT, 
Our Father ! gracious One, 
Who art in heaven above; 
Who gave Thy best-beloved Son 
To win ns to Thy love; 
Hallowed be Tby name, and 0! 
Thy kingdom come, when we 
In Christian grace and meekness grow, 
And humbly kneel to Thee. 
Thy will be done, 0 blessed Qod t 
On earth as ’tis in Heaven; 
When all mankind shall own the Lord 
Whose life for us was given. 
Give us, 0 God, from day to day, 
Whate’er Thou deemest meet; 
And from temptation’s wily way, 
Guide Thou onr wayward feet. 
Father, our trespasses forgive, 
As we our debtors free; 
And give us grace and etrength to live 
Worthy of Christ and Thee. 
Welcome, O, welcome be the hour 
When Thou shalt judge all men; 
To Thy great glory and Thy power, 
Forevermore—Amen! 
ET C. A. CHURCH 
Oh, mother! let the candle bum, 
And set it in my open window, 
For father dear will soon return 
To press his darling Anna’s pillow; 
And if there is no light to guide 
His Blow and weary footsteps homeward, 
He’ll turn away, and stay beside 
Those few who seek to draw him downward. 
Then, mother, light him home again. 
And greet him with a pleasant smile; 
Oh, try to wash away the stain, 
And bring him from among the vile. 
But if the light be burned to-night— 
The night be cold, and dark, and gloomy, 
Speak gentle words, though dearly bought, 
For they can quell the fierce and stormy. 
Then, if be scorn your gentle words, 
And says he's still among the nnmbcr, 
Just think of little singing birds 
That scarcely cease their songs for slumber. 
Then, mother, light him home again, 
And greet him with a gentle word; 
Ob, seek to drlvo away his pain, 
And draw him from the drunken herd. 
And, mother, when I leave these cares— 
For ere the dawning of the morning 
I’ll tread a path among the stars, 
And gaze upon this world of mourning,— 
If, then, dear father cannot see. 
Oh greet him with a heart that’e loving, 
Aud gently point him up to me, 
And tell him there hie Anna’s roving. 
Then, mother, light him home again, 
And greet him with a loving heart; 
Oh, tell him of his daughter's gain, 
And lead him where no more we’ll part. 
a question unanswerable to all save mothers 
selves. Wc opine that the production referrei 
descriptive of the home seen# that takes place 
the mother, at work, is overcome by the a 
cunning of the ‘darling sweet,' ” and snatches i 
turonsly from among it* playthings on the flo 
kiss and talk to It. Here it l*: 
Where’s to baby, bees i« ' art , 
Muz/.er’a lttlc dariey hoy, 
Turn and time into Its tart, 
Suck its little sugar toy. 
Now we’ll take It ridy widy, 
Dearest, preshus, birdy, honey, 
Ma won't let it slldy idy, 
Canse ’twould hurt her little sonny. 
Oh, yon pitty sugar plummy, 
Does it want its *lory talky, 
So it sail; yon ducky tummy, 
Let its muzzy see it walky. 
My, what alls Us tweetest mouty, 
Mama faid Its going to ky, 
Only see Its Uppcys poutey, 
Hmihey darloy rocky bye. 
Does the cabbage mama eaty 
Make itB lttlc tummy ache 1 
Is its lttle eyes so «eepy» 
IClckup keep it wide awake! 
Does it want to see it* daddy ? 
So it sail in ittle while; 
Bee it trow its tunny paddy. 
What does ail ze blessed chile ? 
Ugh 1 you naughty pin, go way! 
Hnshey, deary, go to seep, 
Mama by her baby slay, 
Uggy lies from baby keep. 
only because of this; and a husband and his 
young wife, straining at the hated lash which In 
the beginning had been the golden bondage of 
a God-blessed love, sat mournfully by the side 
of a grnve where all their joy lay burled because 
of this. We hare seen faith transformed to 
doubt, hope give place to grim despair, and 
charity take on itself the feature of black malev¬ 
olence, all because of the spell words of scan¬ 
dal, and the magic muttering# of gossip. Great 
crimes work great wrongs, and the deeper trag¬ 
edies of human life spring from Its larger pas¬ 
sions ; hut woeful and most melancholy are the 
uncatalogued tragedies that issue from gossip 
and detraction; most mournful the shipwreck 
made of noble natures and lovely life by the bit¬ 
ter winds and dead salt waters of scandal. So 
easy to say,.yet so hard to disapprove — throw¬ 
ing on the innocent all the burden and the strain 
of demonstrating their innocence, and punish¬ 
ing them as guilty if anable to pluck out the 
stings they never see, and to silence words they 
never hear. Gossip and slander are the dead¬ 
liest and crudest weapons man has forged for 
his brother’s hurt. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
EDUCATED LADIES. 
The following remarks were written many 
years ago, in my youth. Since then I have be¬ 
come a husband and a father. Time and change 
of circumstances have only confirmed me in the 
views then expressed. 
I am aware that some gentlemen object- to 
ladies seeking scientific and literary informa¬ 
tion. Well, if husbands desire uncultivated 
wives I have no objection, for I allow that every 
man should have a wile after his own heart. As 
for me, if ever it becomes my happy lot to be 
a husband and a father, proud Indeed shall I 
be of the mother If she is capacitated both by 
intellect and information to train up my chil¬ 
dren in the way they should go, that they may 
be able to manfully and successfully contend in 
the warfare of life. 
When a mother is capacitated to train her 
children, home is the best school. I speak from 
experience. It was my happy lot to be blessed 
with a mother who was endowed with,a well 
cultivated intellect, and rich in an endless fund 
of good sound information. She taught me as 
children should bo taught, with patience, care 
and faith. I have spent some years at school, 
but for the development of my ideality —my 
zest for true information—my ambition for a 
cultivated mind,—and my love for the true, 
beautiful and useful — I am indebted to my 
mother. 
This being my experience, I earnestly invite 
all ladies, who are not yoked to the notions of 
any man, to gather all the information they can, 
with the assurance that they never, no never, 
will regret so doing. A well educated mother 
wields i* powerful Jnuuence In molding social 
life in all its various parts. It may not be wo¬ 
man’s prerogative to be heard in legislative halls, 
or to lead troops on the fields of carnage, but 
while the embryo statesman or warrior is under 
the tuition of his mother she is determining, if 
not designing, the fate of nations. 
Geo. F. A. Spiller. 
West Tennessee, June, 1866. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE MIND. 
The mind, like the body, must be fed. One 
requires intellectual, the other vegetable food. 
The state of the mind, like that of the body, 
depends upon the quantity and quality of the 
nourishment received. As the body, fed upon 
healthy, substantial food, becomes strong and 
vigorous, developing its sinews, bones and mus¬ 
cles,—so the mind, nourished upon good, whole¬ 
some thought, grows active and becomes a great 
power in the moral and Intellectual world. If 
the body be sustained upon poor, scanty fare, it 
will become feeble; so the mind fed with low, 
groveling thoughts becomes weak and vitiated. 
The character of the mind may be determined 
from the fruit of the lips; for, “out of the 
abundance of the heart the month epeaketh.” 
A person with a low and vulgar mind cannot 
conceal it for any length of time, for the evil 
that is in him will out. If it is true, then, that 
the mind partakes of the nature of its food, how 
important that it should be led with the choicest 
gems from the richest mines,—that it should be 
rapt in Eilcnt contemplations of the Infinite, and 
filled with thoughts of true nobility and high 
moral worth. It was no doubt in view of these 
facts that the Apostle wrote, “ And he not con¬ 
formed to this world; but be ye transformed by 
the renewing of your mind,” &c., knowing well 
that such transformations would fill the mind 
with grand conceptions and holy aspirations. 
Joliet, Ill., July, 1366. M. Forty. 
ANCIENT EGYPTIAN FASHIONS, 
The Egyptians shaved their heads and chins, 
and looked with abhorrence on the rough-haired 
and long-bearded Asiatic nations. They only 
allowed their hair and beard to grow when in 
mourning, and looked upon it, in any other cir¬ 
cumstances, as a sign of low and slovenly hab¬ 
its. Most of the men wore over their shaven 
poll, wigs made of curled hair, with a series of 
plaits at the back. Poor people, who could not 
alford the expense of real hair, had theirs made 
of black sheep’s wool. By a singular contradic¬ 
tion, the great j>eople wore artificial beards, 
which they likewise allixcd to the images of 
their gods. The beArd of an individual of rank 
was short and square; that of a king equally 
square, but much longer; and that of a god was 
pointed and turned up at the end. Ladies wore 
their hair long, and worked Into a multitude of 
small plaits, part of which hung down their 
back, and the remainder descended on each side 
of the face, covering the ears completely. They 
generally had an ornamented fillet round the 
head, with a bud in front by way of ferronkre. 
Some of the crime de la creme , indulged in a 
head-diets representing a peacock, whose gor¬ 
geous plumage set off their dark tresses; and 
princesses were usually distiuguishe by a coiffure 
of extraordinary dimensions, combining all the 
riches of the animal, vegetable, and mineral 
kingdoms. 
Written Ur Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
TEE SUMY SIDE OF LIFE. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
AN OLD MAID’S SOLILOQUY 
It is my earnest wish, dear readers of the 
Rural, that we may one and all cultivate a hap¬ 
py, contented disposition, for I am well satisfied 
that wc may all, or most of us at least, do this. 
And would it not be a satisfaction in old age for 
us to think that through some of the dark 
streets which we have been called to trav¬ 
el, we* have been enabled to shed bright sun¬ 
shine— that we have spoken pleasant, cheer¬ 
ful words to the desponding, and urged on by 
gentle effort many a weary one. Such a disposi¬ 
tion has always seemed comparable In my mind 
to the blessed rays of sunshine, for does it not 
give life, streugth aad growth to the mind, just 
as the rays of mighty Sol give the same to the 
great earth on which we live ? I know it is pos¬ 
sible lor one in the lowly walks of life, with but 
barely its com torts and necessaries, to he Just as 
contented anti’nappy as those who are surround¬ 
ed by luxury and splendor—for verily aud truly, 
happiness dots not consist in wealth, abundance 
and ease. I have seen those suffering under 
great bodily atUietiou, but still happy, joyous 
and seemingly contented. 
BY MAY MAPLE. 
Well, here am 1, Ruth Thompson, and thir¬ 
ty-five summers have passed over my head; yet 
not a silver thread has ever found Us way among 
my auburn tresses. Perhaps my cheeks are not 
quite as round as they were fifteen years ago, 
and my brow, though white, is somewhat, fur¬ 
rowed by Time,—yet the great Destroyer has 
dealt kindly by me. But the old and the 
young are continually po inting towards me 
as they pass, saying, whenever I'm vis¬ 
ible, “There’s the ‘Old Maid.’” Just as 
if it was a crime that 1 had not burned my 
nose, when all my friends had tried the smart¬ 
ing process, and were now shedding fountains of 
tears over their misfortunes. And because I did 
not, they seek revenge by calling me “ an old 
maid.” But, for the life of me, 1 can’t see what 
harm there is in being an old maid—particularly 
when there's no one that I care for, or that cares 
for me. I’m sure I would not change places 
with any of my old companions that have taken 
the marriage vow. 
Now there was Jenny Reed. She thought 
when she married -John Morton she should be 
perfectly happy; because he owned a large farm 
with fine buildings, she was sure she should 
have every desire granted. She was so afraid of 
living to be an old maid that she married him on 
the shortest possible acquaintance. Now 6be Is 
continually tormented by his awkwardness; 
she will never go into society with him, because 
she knows that he would constantly betray his 
ignorance. He bates the sight of a hook or 
paper, or anything that has the least appearance 
of taste or refinement. His conversation is all 
about hogB, cattle and horses, or about the 
crops. But then, she would not he an old maul 
for all the world. She is welcome to her choice. 
Susie Minor married Sam Lover. Ho was 
.poor, hut “ he loved her and she loved him, and 
the parents were willing;” so they would he 
happy—get married, and help each other to get 
rich. But somehow it was easier for Sam to 
talk than to work—for though there i6 an occa¬ 
sional increase in the family, their income con¬ 
tinually decreases. The table is often scantily 
spread, and their bodies scantily clothed. But 
it would have been so terrible to have lived aud 
died an “old maid.” I had rather live siugle 
and enjoy some of the comforts of life than to 
live in such a miserable, poverty-stricken way. 
Mrs. Jones has a very kind husband. He has 
wealth at his command aud be lavishes it upon 
his wife with an unsparing hand. She can go 
and come in her splendid carriage just when she 
pleases, and he is always ready and willing to at¬ 
tend her. But would I be &en riding with that 
little hunch-backed, long-nosed, blear-eyed, 
gray-haired lantern-jaws? Not “by no 
means! ” But old maids were so detestiblc the 
couldn’t endure the thought. 
Mrs. Grand said to me awhile ago: —“I 
thought when I married Harold Grand that I 
had got one of the best men in all Christendom; 
he was handsome, talented and wealthy, and had 
a very kind disposition. Well, he is so kind 
that he lets me feed the hogs, milk the cow, and 
he would let me harness the horse, when he 
wishes lo drive out, if I only knew how.” Well, 
that’s more kindness than I desire, so I would 
not step into her shoes. 
Mrs. Elvie has what is called a model man, 
who docs just as his wife desires; attends to 
bringing in the wood and water; tends the baby 
when it cries aud mamma’s busy; holds the um¬ 
brella when it rains or the sun shines; reads or 
sings when she requests it; never whistles in the 
house for fear of waking baby; always says “yes, 
dear;” never disputes anything she affirms; 
always asks when he 6hall have a new pair of 
pants, and if she thinks he does not need them, 
why, he tries to think 60 too. But he is so bash¬ 
ful that he can’t even speak to his wife without 
Written lor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
EVENING HOURS. 
If there Is anything which tends to raise the 
mind from the vices and corruptions of a wicked 
world, and enable it to soar away beyond this 
vale of tears to dwell on heavenly things, it is 
the stillness and solitude of the evening hour. 
When night “ lets her curtain down and pins it 
with a star,” and the pale moon shines in all her 
splendor,—when all nature is still in the hush of 
peace,—when the weary husbandman rests from 
the bard labors of the day, and the air is cool 
and soft,—while now and then can be heard 
the plaintive notes pf the sweet whlppowil,— 
then I am lain to believe that angels from happy 
homes above, are hovering near, to comfort and 
console poor erring man. 
Oh, blessed hour! — thou wert born of peace 
and love! I long lor the weary day to close and 
usher in the sweet t wilight hour. It carries me 
away back among the friends and scenes that I 
love. It seats me again by the bedside ef a dying 
mother, to receive her last blessing. It soothes 
my irritated feelings, and brings to mind the 
love and sufferings of that dear Redeemer of 
mankind, and puts me te shame for my selfish 
actions. It tells me that Jesus, though reviled, 
reviled not again—that He bore tire pains of the 
cross, all fen' me, and not for me only , but for the 
world. Thank Go» for the evening hour, and 
for hiB bounteous goodness to the children of 
men. J - R 
Pleasant Hill, N. Y., 1866. 
VICTORIA’S PORTRAIT FOR MR. PEAEODY 
It seems that the “miniature” of Queen Vic¬ 
toria, which her Majesty is to present to Mr. 
George Peabody, is to he fourteen inches long 
by ten inches wide, and is to be clone in enamel 
on a panel of pure gold. Only the first water- 
color sketch is yet completed, The Queen has 
given the painter, Mr. Tift, several loDgsittings, 
wearing the robes of state in which she was at¬ 
tired at the opening of the present parliament— 
a black silk dress, aud a long velvet train, 
trimmed with ermine; a Mary Stuart cap, and a 
demi-crown, with the Kohinoor and one rich 
diamond moss, presented by Prince Albert, for 
the jewels. It is the largest enameled picture 
ever attempted in England; aud It has been 
found necessary to erect a furnace especially for 
the burning process. It will take about Bix 
weeks to complete the work, when the picture 
will be mounted in an elaborate and massive 
frame of pure gold, surmounted with the royal 
crown enameled in colors. The Loudon Times 
illustrates Its inveterate habit of making miB 
takes by remarking of the picture“ After be¬ 
ing submitted to the Queen, on its completion, 
it will be forwarded to Mr. Peabody, who in¬ 
tends to deposite it where it may be best seen in 
a large institution which he has founded in Bos¬ 
ton, his native town.” 
MARRIAGE, 
Look at the great mass of marriages that take 
place all over the world—what poor, contempti¬ 
ble, common-place things they are! A few soli 
looks, a dance, a squeeze of the baud, a popping 
of the question, a purchasing of a quantity of 
muslin, a clergymau, a short journey, and the 
whole matter is over. For five or six wcek6 two 
sheepish looking persons are seen dangling about 
on each other’s arms looking at water-falls, or 
making calls, and guzzling wine and cake; then 
everything falls into the most monotonous rou¬ 
tine ; the wife sits on one side of the hearth, the 
husband on the other, and little pleasures, little 
cares, and little children gather round them. 
T ills is what ninety-nine out of a hundred find 
to be the delights of love and matrimony. Pity 
’tis, ’tis true. But why so ? For these, mainly, 
we opine, 
1st. Marriages are founded too much on pe¬ 
cuniary considerations and those of conven¬ 
ience, and too little on congenial affection and 
congeniality. 
2d. The married parties, instead of striving to 
become wiser and better, usually become seltUfi, 
ill-tempered and mentally inert. 
RELIGIOUS MISCELLANY, 
NAPOLEON GROWING OLD, 
Young Girl’s Love.— What, has woman to 
give more precious to man than the love of a 
young, confiding aud unsuspecting heart ? Full 
of life—impressed with a consciousness of her 
own purity and devotion—she pours forth all 
the treasures of her thought at man’s feet; she 
fancies she hears the joyou6 tones of infant 
voices, lu Die distant horizon of her life, sweep 
past like the tone of a distant bell; she places 
her little joys in them—the happiness they must 
afford her. In fancy she rears them to brilliant 
positions; she makes them all like herself, good 
and pure; she gives them her thoughts; she in¬ 
spires them with her own elevated sentiments, 
and the husbaud of her choice with undying love 
and tenderness. 
There is no day, nor hour of the day, in 
which our Lord Jesus i6 not present with bis 
churches aud his ministers; if there were, that 
day, that hour they were undone. 
Religion has, and it needs to have, its Sab¬ 
baths ; but an honest and heartfelt Sabbath sheds 
out its fragrance and radiance upon all the other 
days and works of the week. 
Scarcely anything in life is 60 sweet as the 
repose of Sunday—the soothing suggestions of 
its devouter offices, its silence, its claim its ha - 
munities. 
Pliny, the elder, read nothing he did not ex¬ 
tract from. For he would say there was no book 
so bad you could not get some good from it- 
The purified righteous man has become a coin 
of the Lord, and has the impress of his Kie= 
stamped upon him. 
Our prayers and God’s mercy are like two 
buckets in a well — while the one ascends the 
other descends. 
If I owe God my whole self for making me, 
what have I left to pay him for redeeming me. 
If yen wish .that your own merit should l 
recoguized, recognize the merit of others. 
It is not so much great talents tbatGod 
es as great likeness to Jesus. 
A letter from Paris gives the following de¬ 
scription of Louis Napoleon —the best view we 
have had ofhim for some years:—“ The Emperor 
was out ou Sunday last. He came in his oar- 
riage-and-four, with out-riders, and accompa¬ 
nied by General Fleury and a couple of foreign 
ambassadors. I was quite close to him and had 
a good look at him. He is of much lower stat¬ 
ure than I had thought, and inclined to he fleshy; 
is quite gray, and wears no other heard than a 
moustache and imperial. He has a large and 
remarkably fine-shaped head and bright eye. 
He was very plainly clad in a pepper and salt 
citizen’s dress, with silk hat and white silk 
gloves. He returned, in a good-natured, grace¬ 
ful manner, the frequent unostentatious greet¬ 
ings of the passers-by.” We learn from another 
letter that the Emperor has become reconciled 
to his cousin, the Prince Napoleon, who has 
promised to make no more dangerous bids for 
democratic popularity in the shape qf republi¬ 
can speeches. 
The Sufferings of Woman. —An overworked 
woman is always a sad sight—sadder a great deal 
than an overworked man, because she is so 
much more fertile in capacities of suffering that 
a man. She has so many varieties of headactn-; 
sometimes as if Jael were driving the nail which 
killed Sisera into her temple, sometimes tight¬ 
ening around the brow as if her cap-band were 
Luke’s iron crown—and then her neuralgias and 
backaches, and her fits of depression, and many 
more trials, linked to her tine and noble struc¬ 
ture, entitle her to pity, when she is placed in 
conditions which develop her nervous tendencies. 
Folly versus Knavery. —Self-denial leads 
to the most exalted pleasures, and the conquest 
of evil habits is the most glorious triumph. 
'Tis much better to be thought a fool, than to 
be a knave. 
