purchase it—for what we prize most is there. 
It rides proudly on the waters, hut never comes 
into port. We’ve watched for it long, and 
we’ve waited lu vain. Like the fairy ahip, it 
hangs in the distant horizon, never receding, 
never coming nearer, and in our heart of hearts 
we know it will never come home. But the 
consciousness of the existence of so much that 
is beautiful, even on the ship that will never 
come in, makes life more endurable; so we write 
our names in the sand and whisper, “We still 
ran wait.” Ethel Wilde. 
not consider it a great desideratum. And, in 
conclusion, any one who has it at his command 
can appear res'pcctable at any time and in any 
place. J * K ‘ 
Clarence Center, N. Y., 1866. 
For Moore’s Rural Few-Torker. 
UNWSIT TEN H ISTORY, 
Each revolving year sweeps off its millions to 
the land of shadows, and brings others upon the 
stage to act their part on this world theatre. A 
few only are remembered—some as favorites of 
the masses, and others perhaps for their brilliant 
deeds upon the tented field;—aud even here the 
exploits of that General is lauded most, who 
marched thro' the deepest scenes of carnage 
and death, while those ministering angels will 
not bo noticed who oft-times visited the gory 
field to bind up the wounds of husbands, broth¬ 
ers, or sons, after the fight had ceased and the 
dark curtain of night had been drawn over 
earth. The words of hope and consolation they 
whispered in the ear of some expiring 4 brave 
may never be known. History will not notice 
their deeds, and the glorious exploits of the 
common soldier, each of whom has a fearful his¬ 
tory, But in far-off lands, sisters and brothers 
wiil weep hot, bitter tears for him who died up- 
on the gory field, for the re-vibration of each 
falling sword strikes upon the heart-strings of 
distant waiting friends. 
If one of the vast throng that participated in 
the wars of ancient times had kept a journal of 
the every day occurrences, it would now he one 
of the most valuable works of those times. It 
would introduce us Into the tent of the private 
to us the hopes aud fears of 
Written for Moore’s Eural New-YorXe: 
THE POET’S MISSION. 
.Written for Moore’s Eural New-Yorke: 
ON THE SHONE. 
A DEEAM AND A MISTAKE 
BT JEAN' ROWLEY 
The Toledo Blade is responsible for a story to 
this effectAn Irish girl at a boarding bouse 
dreamed that a certain ticket in a certain gift 
enterprise would draw a prize of ?10,000, which 
was advertised. A middle-aged gentleman 
boarder who heard her telling the dream laughed 
at It, but she felt 6ure there was something in it, 
and finally got him to write a letter, for her to 
the concern, inclosing one dollar and asking for 
the particular number of the dream. The draw¬ 
ing took place at the designated time, and the 
boarder discovered by the papers that the iden¬ 
tical ticket had drawn the $10,000. The girl was 
bright and good looking, and so was the money. 
The boarder fell desperately a-wooiug, suc¬ 
ceeded, and was speedily married. He soon 
delicately broached the matter of her lottery 
venture, and discovered that; after the letter 
was written, she had taken his advice, refused 
to have anything to do with the matter, and 
tore up the letter. He had a wife without the 
currency encumbrance. He was something of 
a philosopher, however, and more a man. He 
did not desert his wife nor let her know his dis¬ 
appointment, but resolved to make the best of 
the matter. The young wife is now at an educa¬ 
tional institution In Michigan, receiving the 
polish deemed necessary in society, that she 
may move in the sphere of which her husband 
is an ornament. Nobody is obliged to believe 
The Poet’s song, though ne’er so sweetly sung, 
Fulfills its gentle mission only when 
It strikes the tender chords, so finely strung 
Within the listener's heart, and causes then 
Their harmonies to grow more near complete, 
And life’s dull prose to prove & poem sweet. 
Blest he the poet’s mission t lie who sings 
A song of hope aud faith, fulfilling this, 
A ray of sunshine on the darkness flings. 
And give s a truer heart and added bliss 
To lives that ever else might grope along 
Their weary way, unblest by ought of song. 
Our faith is weak; it cannot grasp the things 
That lead hearts upward, with a ready hand; 
Our life will falter, and its hidden springs 
Of thonght and action, not at oar command 
Will always flow; another hand may hold 
The rod by which the fountain is controlled! 
The promptings coming from without the heart, 
Awake the purpose slumbering within; 
The worth of life Is in the better part 
Deep hidden, rarely touched, and there begin 
All holy aspirations, such as make 
The living nobler wherein they awake. 
To kindle these, to quicken a desire 
To dare and do as one’s own soul may feel 
Is noblest, truest, should the poet’s fire 
Glow brightest ever, warming to new zeal 
The hearts and lives a-weary grown, and cold, 
That yet to rare completeness may unfold! 
Albany, N. Y., August, 1SG6. 
I launch thee, little bark, 
Into the waveless sea; 
Heart-treasures fair, jewels rare, 
Fearless I trust to thee. 
I linger, little bark, 
i In the twilight o’er the bay— 
Through gold and purple until daru, 
I watch thee on thy way. 
God speed thee, gallant • 
My all is hid in thee; 
Sail ou through purple and through dark, 
- To the shore where mornings be. 
I am waiting- little bark, 
Alone on the silent shore; [sweep, 
O’er the blackening morn dark storm-clouds 
And I hear the breakers roar. 
Through the wild black hours of night 
Hungrily moans the sea; 
Sure God is kind, and He’ll not sake 
My earthly ah from me. 
My bark, my pride, my all. 
Thou art whelmed in the rushing tide! 
There is no ear my cry to hear 
On all the ocean wide. 
Rest well, my tired bark, 
There’s a green bed under the sea, 
But the boatman pale alone can give 
My treasures back to me. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
SHAKING HANDS. 
How natural it is for us to clasp the hand of 
an ardent friend for a kind shake and a “How 
do you do ?” Kind reader, did you ever meet 
your father or mother, or some one else that you 
love dearly, returning home from a far-off jour¬ 
ney, and extend to them your warm welcome 
hand, and perhaps a fetes, as a token of tender 
affection, or give them a parting shake of the 
hand as they were leaving you. perhaps forever V 
It seems but yesterday, although nearly ten 
yeais ago, that I stood by the side of a dying 
father with ray hand clasped in bis, after hi3 
tongue was still in death. Who that ever expe¬ 
rienced it, has ever forgotten the feeling con¬ 
veyed by the eloquent pressure of the hand of a 
dying friend ? In a momentary squeeze of the 
hand how much of the heart oozes through the 
fingers! 
We learn much of a man or a woman by the 
6hake of the hand. The hand coldly held out 
to be shaken, and drawn away again as soon as 
it decently may be, indicates a cold if not a sel¬ 
fish and heartless character—while the hand 
which seeks yours and unwillingly relinquishes 
its warm, hearty clasp, belongs to a person with 
a genial disposition and a ready sympathy with 
his fellow-men. We could learn as much of Mr. 
Moore by one shake of the hand as we could 
by reading the dear Rural for months. 
Untold volumes could not mean more than 
you did, my fair reader, as you clasped your 
brother’s or lover’s hand as he stood before you 
in his suit of blue ready to go forth to battle for 
the Nation’s life, and bid him “ God be with 
you,” Much of our true character is revealed 
lu shaking hands:—as we shake bands so we 
feel and so we are. Is the grasp warm, ardent 
aud vigorous?—so is the disposition. Is it cold, 
soldier,—reveaun; 
his heart. It would effectually unveil to us the 
ancient world, revealing the homely joys and 
superstitions dread that moved the hearts of 
men in those rude times. Perhaps there might 
have been some “rose in the shade” whose 
Written for Moore's Eural New-Yorker. 
MY LOST TREASURES. 
I am standing this afternoon upon half-way 
ground — am leaving the old life behind me and 
beginning the new. With the dim outlines of 
the future stretching far before me, I stand and 
view the prospect with wonder and turn me 
back to look over the days of my girlhood. And 
tenderly, one after the other, have I thought of 
my lost treasures—hearts aud forms who have 
been dear to me, but are lain aside forever. 
Away back yonder I see two childish forms, 
Emma and Ellen, my early playmates. Long 
years have passed since they were lost. An¬ 
other, Mart, sweet little friend-now a wife, 
and 7 am forgotten. A boyish face, with roguish 
eyes, comes before me and I coll him Charlie. 
Where is he ? Rebecca— they tell me she is a 
war-widow, gay and careless and a scoffer of all 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
CASTLE BTJILDEES. 
There is a principle of beauty implanted in 
every mind. If it be uot satisfied with real ob¬ 
jects it turns to the imagination for food. This 
is a never-failing source, for the mind, rich in 
ideas, creates beauty for itself. When other cir¬ 
cumstances are unfavorable, aud but few agree¬ 
able objects are present to the outward sense, 
Imagination, true to her trust, forms objects 
more beautiful than mortal eyes have seen, and 
we lu our disposition to localize and give a name 
to everything, look upon these tonus of beauty 
as something to be realized iu future lile. The 
more practical portion of the world, looking for 
no beauty but that which can be measured, ban- 
lias given the name of 
and castle builder to &ucb, and en- 
them to their graves. But the millions are soon 
forgotten, because they have no lasting memo¬ 
rials of their toils 
•they fill unknown soldiers' 
(/raves. 
Meu love to hear of gory battle-fields, while 
the “ short and simple annals of the poor” can 
find but few admirers. There have been myriads 
of instances of noble self-sacrifice, of which the 
world knows nothing because no Poet has em¬ 
balmed their deeds and rendered them immor¬ 
tal,—myriads of victories over great temptations 
which can never be known because great men 
have never written them in their books,—yet 
angels have looked on and blessed, aud we will 
trust have carried it on “wings of light” to 
Heaven, and that there, in that great book of 
books, it is recorded. I believe that each indi¬ 
vidual has a private history of his own, that is 
worth more to him than the massive volumes of 
Rollin or Hume, 
Where can you find the man or woman with 
“soul so dead” who would blot out the remem¬ 
brance of youthful days for all the wealth that 
could he piled at their feet ? The little incidents 
that marked the hours of our youth—the pas¬ 
times, and the fond loving friends who watched 
our sports, and the mind's opening powers— 
that guided our tottering feet up theLUl of life— 
are “ remembered with a sigh.” 
“ "Tla sweet to remember; I would not forego 
The charm which the past o'er the present can throw, 
For all the gay visions which fancy may weave. 
We know not the future, the past we have felt, 
It’s cherished enjoyments the bosom can melt, 
It’s raptures anew o’er the pulses muy roll 
When thoughts of the morrow fall cold on the soul.” 
There are little incidents that serve to make 
up the span of human life, yet are eome forgot¬ 
ten because connected with no great event. The 
history of those who struggle with “ chill pen¬ 
ury,” who toil in obscurity for those they love, 
with a firm trust in heaven’s ways, will perish, 
“when dust has returned to dust aud the spirit 
has returned to the God who gave it.” God, 
it has been beautifully said, is the “biographer 
of the poor;” then why should we toil for dis¬ 
tinction here, for the same lowly bed will receive 
us all, the brave and fair, the rich and poor, 
the lordling master aud the cringing slave?— 
And what will the generations of men yet to 
come upon the world’s stage know or care of 
the mad millions that are now jostling each 
other in this world's strife? The wave of ob¬ 
livion will sweep over the works of the present 
day, as it has over those of ancient times, de¬ 
stroying iu its mighty floods the wealth of noble 
minds. All over our broad laud are thickly strewn 
the graves of those who have toiled and suffered. 
Many have dound graves on heathen soil, while 
they were striving to reclaim its people to con¬ 
vey the gospel of truth within the reach of its 
inhabitants. They passed away and soon will 
FUTURE HOUSEKEEPING 
We sometimes catch ourselves wondering how 
many of the young ladies whom we meet with 
are to perform the part of housekeepers, when 
the young men who now eye them so admiring¬ 
ly have persuaded them to become their wives, 
We listen to those young ladies of whom we 
speak, and hear them not only acknowledging, 
but boasting of their ignorance of all household 
duties, as if nothing would so lower them in the 
estimation of their friends as the confession of 
an ability to make bread and pies, or cook a 
piece of meat, or a disposition to engage in any 
useful employment. 
Speaking from our own youthful recollec¬ 
tions, we are free to say that taper fingers and 
lily hands are very pretty to look at with a 
young man’s eyes, aud sometimes we have 
known the artless innocence of practical knowl¬ 
edge displayed by a young miss to appear rather 
interesting than otherwise. But wo have lived 
long enough to learn that life is full of rugged 
experiences, and that the most loving, romantic 
and delicate people must live on cooked, or 
otherwise, food, and the house kept clean aud 
tidy by industrious hands. And for all the prac¬ 
tical pnrposee of married life, it is generally 
found that for a husbaud to sit and gaze at a 
wife’s taper fingers and lily hands, or for a wife 
to sit and be looked at and admired, does not 
make the pot boil, or put the smallest piece of 
food therein .—New Aye. 
the brain's* “ chief of sta 
Benton Ridge, Ohio, I860, 
died and described 
dreamer 
deavored by virtuous indignation, not unmixed 
with 6Corn, to put an end to all such folly. Still 
it has not ceased, hut castles have been i eared 
until it would seem that Spain must be filled 
with chateaux. 
All arc castle builders, even those who de¬ 
nounce it, unoonsciously, it may he, for while 
the more ardent are soaring among the clouds 
in landed bliss, they may be occupied with 
lowlier dreams. Bat all are accustomed some¬ 
times to leave the real, the “Is” and the “lias 
been” to wander among the “ May be,” and be¬ 
cause their dreams are not so deeply marked 
with fancy’s coloring, they imagine themselves 
more sensible than the rest of mankind. If we, 
who are raising gorgeous domes, glittering with 
golden spires, are warned by those who have seen 
castles more beautiful, vanish, it is by those who 
the while may be building marble halls, cold, 
dark and grand! While ours sparkle in the 
sunlight fainter aud farther on, theirs gleam in 
the light of the moon. 
Castle builders have had a much larger share 
iu the world’s improvement than is supposed. 
At what period in civilization would the Ameri¬ 
can nation have now stood, if Columbus had 
not reared a castle, embracing the Western Con¬ 
tinent, aud, in spite of opposition from friends 
and sneers of unbelievers, sailed iu search of it. 
It was only an air-castle when Morse pictured 
to himself the lightning carrying news from 
place to place. And so of every discovery or 
invention for uhlch the world thanks human 
genius; it was once a dream in the mind of its 
author. Every result of importance must exist 
in the mind before it can exist in reality. The 
greatest achievements were once castles iu the 
air. Probably every one who has ever attained 
a long-sought purpose, looks back to the time 
when that which is reality now was only a float¬ 
ing shadow iu his vaguest dreams. Gradually 
the shadow took form and substance aud came 
to be a wish, clear and distinctly defined, —then 
the wish by aid of the imagination rose to a 
magnificent castle, just as beautiful, just as 
glorious as the reality has since been; then it 
■now it is less etherial. Air- 
TALL AND SHORT MEN 
M. Veriv says:—“Tall men are generally 
much more weak and slow than short men, for 
all exertions both of body and mind. If men 
of high stature are preferred, for their fine ap¬ 
pearance, in the body-guard of princes and in 
the service of eminent persons, they are cer¬ 
tainly neither the most robust nor the most ac¬ 
tive ; but they are docile, candid, and naive, little 
prone to conspire tor evil, and faithful even to 
the worst master. In the war they are more 
fitted for defence than attack; whereas an Im¬ 
petuous and brusque action suits better for 
short and vivacious men 
Tall men are mostly 
tame and insipid like watery vegetables; inso-1 
much that we seldom hear of a very tall man 
becoming a very great man. Little men mani¬ 
fest a character more firm and decided than 
those lofty and soft-bodied people whom wc can 
lead more easily both morally and physically.” 
Let all little men rejoice at such an opinion as 
this, and especially at the following incident ;— 
An empress of Germany, in the seventeenth 
century, to gratify a whim, caused all the giants 
and dwarfs in the empire to be brought to court. 
As it was feared that the giants would terrify the 
dwarfs, means were taken to keep the peace t 
but insteed of this the dwarfs teased, insulted, 
and robbed the giants to such an extent, that 
the lengthy fellows complained with teara in 
their eyes; and sentinels had to be posted to 
protect the giants from the dwarfs. 
Nevertheless, “ size is the measure of power,” 
that is, other things being equal, among which 
quality is the most important; a cannon is 
greater than a pocket pistol; a telescope than a 
spy glass; a horse than a pony, &c. 
A TRAVELER’S EXPERIENCE OF WOMAN 
I have observed among all nations, that the 
women ornament themselves more than the 
men; that wherever found they are the same 
kind, civil, obliging humane, tender beings; 
that they arc ever inclined to he gay and cheer¬ 
ful, timorous and modest. They do not hesitate, 
like men, to perform a hospitable action; uot 
haughty, nor arrogant, nor supercilious, but fall 
of courtesy, loud of society; idustrious, eco¬ 
nomical, ingenious; more liable in general to 
err than niau, hut in general also more virtuous, 
and performing more good actions than he. I 
never addressed myself in the language of de¬ 
cency and friendship to a woman, whether civil¬ 
ized or savage, without receiving a decent and 
friendly answer. With man it has often been 
otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains 
of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Swe¬ 
den, frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, 
unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread re¬ 
gions of the wandering Tartar, if hungry, dry, 
cold, wet, or sick, woman has ever been friendly 
to me, and uniformly so; and to add to this vir¬ 
tue, so worthy of the appellation of benevo¬ 
lence, these actions have been performed in so 
free and so kind a manner, that, if I was dry, I 
drank the sweetest draught, and if hungry, ate 
| the coarse morsel with a double relish. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
COMMON SENSE. 
observing hut not critical eye. what gross vio¬ 
lations of common sense meet our daily expe¬ 
rience. At times the incidents are so striking 
that we are obliged to doubt whether the per¬ 
sons act under the impulse of a reasoning mind, 
or from instinct. There are young men who 
refuse to be seen at an evening sociable, merely 
because they have blistered their hands or had 
their faces sunburnt, wbile pursuing an honora¬ 
ble profession. Let such arouse their dormant 
ambition, and muster up true manly courage 
and say. “Working in the shop may blister the 
hands, and-working in the sun may darken the 
skin, hut it can neither blister the brain nor 
eclipse the intellect." 
.Ladies are not free, either, from such opinions 
or actions. There are mothers who say, “It 
would be a sin to have my daughters seen doiDg 
house-work.” What a barbarous display of 
stupidity for a mother, the mistress of a family 1 
COURAGE IN EVERY-DAY LIFE. 
Have the courage to do without that which 
you do not need, however much your eyes 
may covet it. 
Have the courage to show your respect for 
honesty, in whatever guise it appears; and your 
contempt for dishonest duplicity, by whomso¬ 
ever exhibited. 
Have the courage to wear your old clothes 
until you can pay for new ones. 
Have the courage to obey your Maker, at the 
risk of being ridiculed by man. 
Have the courage to prefer comfort aud pro¬ 
priety to fashion iu all things. 
Have the courage to acknowledge your igno¬ 
rance rather than to seek credit for knowledge 
under false pretenses. 
Have the courage to provide entertainment for 
your friends within your means — not beyond. 
Have the courage to take a good paper, and 
pay for it annually in advance. 
was made of air 
castles based on a foundation of energy and trill, 
are but the foreshadowing of more glorious 
things which shall he. 
It is not the practical alone who meet with 
success: often, while they are complaining of 
the dreamings of others, effects are accom¬ 
plished which mere practicality could never have 
reached. ’Tis true, all air-castles cannot be 
real, but let them fall, if fall they must. Had 
they never been reared they could never have 
been ruined, and ruins are sometimes grand. 
Beauty is beauty, whether material or imma¬ 
terial, and if it can exist only in the miud of the 
dreamer, better there than not at all. We 
can ail dtraUlees remember something in our 
lives which we know was and must be a dream, 
but which has made us better than we other¬ 
wise should hare been. Or perhaps we long for 
some object ucattained, which we know wemay 
neyer reach. All our life-plans arc laid with 
reference to that, and though we know it is be¬ 
yond our power, we love to strive for it, we love 
to do anything that keeps it before ns, and our 
lives are more perfect from being shaped by it 
We have all*i ship at sea aud a precious freight 
it bears. The wealth of the Iudies could not 
THE GOSPEL AT ATHENS. 
We have seen an interesting account, says the 
N. Y. Post, of the labors of a young Greek of 
well-cultured mind, who has been sell-moved to 
commence an Independent system of evangeli¬ 
zation iu Athens. He is a member of no sect, 
and neither commissioned nor supported by any 
society. But having been deeply moved by the 
prevailing wickedness in the city, and kimselt 
thoroughly convinced that the truths oi th'- 
Ckristian religion present the only efifeetua 
remedy for such a state of things, he has began 
to preach the truths of the Sacred Scripture.-; to 
that people. He is an earnest expounder of 
great doctrines of repentance and faith iu J erU - 
Christ, aud his appeals are said to be irresistible. 
The opposition of the Greek priests has not teen 
able to silence this evangelist. The people 
throng to hear him, and many of the converts 
are already proclaiming the good news through¬ 
out the city. 
It is the duty of every mother to teach her 
daughters how to do all kinds of necessary 
house-work, without regard to wealth or wis¬ 
dom. Speaking about rank and wisdom, there 
is no lady in the land who can boast of a 
higher position la life than was occupied by the 
wife of Washington-,— and while be was Presi¬ 
dent she never considered herself above work. 
In power of mind, there arc no gentlemen supe¬ 
rior to Dr. -Franklin, who never was ashamed 
to work. Though not by your request, you 
have your existence. Your desire is to live, aud 
To men of a poetical nature life is apt to be¬ 
come a desert, in whose undulating air, as in 
that of other deserts, objects appear both waver¬ 
ing and gigantic. 
No man can ever become eminent in anything, 
unless he work at it with an earnestness border¬ 
ing on enthusiasm. — Hdbei't Hall. 
IIe who has not forgiven an enemy, has never 
yet tasted one of the most sublime enjoyments 
of life.— Lavater. 
