Written for Monre's Rural New-Yorker. 
WHISTLING-“DIDACTICALLY DISCUSSED 
pers,— not to pick up one and rattle off a piece 
or two so last you cannot understand it. nor any 
one who may hear you, but read it thoughtfully, 
and read it over again if you don't understand it. 
Be sure you know the meanings of all the words 
you read,— don't let them pass, but consult your 
dictionary. Read all in the paper, advertise¬ 
ment* and all; don’t say they don’t interest you. 
They do interest you. You’ll have a wider 
range of thought and know what Is going on in 
the world. And here let me assure you that you 
are far more lovely and interesting in a plain 
print dress, conversing intelligently and reasona¬ 
bly, than clad in the most brilliant colors and 
uttering insipid nonsense. Of course, Rural lady 
readers don't need thi> information, hut perhaps 
they know of some one who does. 
Third—And I know you’ll all agree with me 
here, its a recommendation to any young 
woman, and of infinite importance to yourself 
to be a humble Christian. —such an odb will be 
selected for a wife in preference to the gayest 
beauty. Such are the mothers needed for the 
next generation. Reader. 
baltfieet, C. W., 1863. 
I envied the boys their whistling apparatus, 
and after hearing them whistle until I was— 
well, considerably aged. I made up my mind to 
ascertain if this “harp of a thousand strings'' 
didn't lie in the region of my palate somewhere. 
So at the end of six months, during which time 
I had attempted to tune my harp to strains har¬ 
monious, at least once each day, beginning at 
five in the morning aDd closing, with an impres¬ 
sive finale, at eight in the evening, I found my¬ 
self. as 1 tho't, a most accomplished whistleress. 
I am inclined to think my guardian tho’t so too, 
for 'twas about this time, in the. twilight one eve¬ 
ning. standing under the walnut tree in the 
yard, whistling Bonny Boon, Old Hundred, and 
snatches from other patriotic pieces, that I was 
impressed by hearing him elocutionize thus:— 
“Betsy Ann*, is that you a whistling?'' A still, 
small voice replied. “It am." “Well, you are a 
most interesting young woman, I declare! A 
girl whistling! You’ve heard about ‘whistling 
girls and crowing”'- “No,'’ I interrupted, 
“but I’ve heard this. 
“ ‘ Whistling girls and good fat sheep, 
Are the best stock a man can keep.’ 
“So there! now! come!’’ As Charles F. 
Browne says. “Thus endeth the first scene.” 
Argument—Lt is perfectly right and proper and 
genteel for a woman to whistle. Dr. Holland 
says, if a woman can sing bass, and wants to 
sing bass, let her sing bass.—or something to 
that effect And I. Betsy Ann, quite as relia¬ 
ble authority on the whistling question, say let 
her whistle if she can boast of that accomplish¬ 
ment I’ve felt the muscles of my mouth con¬ 
tract most pleasantly before now. to see mascu¬ 
line exquisites stick up their ears and gaze 
around in perfect blank astonishment, to see 
Betsy Ann whistling—’Tis so unladylike! 
Ephellcustikon! Her mouth looks full as well in 
a pucker as theirs, and then, it is invariably the 
accompaniment to heart happiness. Who ever 
heard a mad man, or a sad man, (I use the terra 
in its general pense.) whistling? Whistle, whis¬ 
tle. whistle! I used to know when a certain lad 
in Hindostan went home in the evening, for he 
always went by whistling, and I gave him a 
blessing for it each night This whistling is the 
real music after all, and if a man or woman has 
it in their heart, 'tis far better to whistle it out, 
than die “with all their music in them.’’ 
M. Mintwood. 
Athenaeum Lyceum, Alfred University, N. Y., 1863. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
DEATH IS LIFE. 
Written for Moore's Rural New Yorker. 
THE DYING SON TO HIS MOTHER 
BT T. B. READ 
BT EMILY M. GODARD 
Sit beside me, dearest mother, 
Lay thy cool band on my brow; 
It will soothe me a* none other, 
To the soft and dreamy slumber 
That m stealing o'er me now. 
: T1* a sleep shall know no waking 
From bright dreams to toil and pain, 
And the sunlight on me breaking 
Is its golden glory taking 
From celestial field and plain. 
I can hear the waters surging, 
Of the river dark and cold, 
And the phantom pilot urging 
The toil-worn traveler verging 
Near the portals of the goal. 
Soon the bright resplcndant dawuing 
Will light up tbo orient sky, 
And for me the eternal morning 
Will dispel the dark clouds frowning,— 
The Redemption draweth nigh! 
I had hoped my arm might stay thee 
In thy life's declining years,— 
Vainly hoped I might be near thee, 
With my watchful care to cheer tlioe 
Through tills lonely vale of tears. 
But I hear the sweep of pinions— 
And a glad, triumphal song, 
And there burets upon my vision, 
Seraph-form* from bowers clysian,— 
I must join the blood-washed throng. 
In a dime forever vernal, 
Just beyond the river’s roar— 
I shall trea/l the Hills Eternal, 
And ’mid scenes and joys supernal— 
’Wait thoo on the Jasper Shore. 
Arlington, Mich., 1868. Lizzie D. 
We knew it would rain, for all the mom 
A spirit on slender ropes of mist 
Was lowering its golden buckets down 
Into the vapory amethyst 
Of marshes and swamp! and dismal fens— 
Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, 
Dipping the jewels out of the sea 
To sprinkle them over the land in showers. 
We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed 
The white of their loaves, the amber grain 
Shrank in the wind—and the lightning now 
Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain 1 
AFTER THE RAIN. 
The rain has ceased, and in my room 
The sunshine pours an airy flood; 
And on the church’s dizzy vane 
The ancient cross is bathed in blood. 
From out the dripping ivy leaves, 
Antiquely carved, and gray, and high, 
A dormer, facing westward, looks 
Upon the village like au eye 
And now it glimmers In the sun, 
A globe of gold, a disc, a speck; 
And in the belfry sits a dove 
With purple ripples on her neck. 
It is not much this world can give, 
Much it can take away, 
And life is, at the longest, but 
A fleeting summer’s day. 
The grave is but a resting place 
From this world's strife and care; 
Its terrors are lmt shadows grim, 
Which vanish into air. 
Soft music from a distant realm 
Falls on mine listening ear, 
And on its notes my soul is borne, 
With naught of earthly fear. 
The pearly gates are opening, 
I see each living ray 
Fall sparkling from the “great white throne,” 
To win my soul away. 
No, ’tis not much this earth can give, 
Why wish we still to stay, 
When heaven’s myriad voices 
Are calling us away. 
Ypsilanti, Mich., 1863. 
FARMERS’ WIVES OVERTAXED, 
Unless made otherwise by a vicious training, 
a woman is as naturally tasteful, tidy and neat 
in herself, and as to all her surroundings, as the 
beautiful canary, which bathes herself every 
morning, and will not 1 h? satisfied until each 
rebellions feather is compelled to take the shape 
and place which nature designed. It is nothing 
short of brutality to war against those pure, 
elevating, and refining instincts of a woman’s 
better nature, and it is a husband's highest duty, 
his interest, and should be his pleasure and bis 
pride, to sympathize with his wife iu the cultiva¬ 
tion of these instincts, and to cheerfully afford 
her the necessary means, so far as be can do so 
consistently 
Written for Moore’a Rural New-Yorker, 
VIOLATING GOD’S LAWS. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
SUCCESS 
It is beautiful to trace the analogy between 
the natural and the moral world; between the 
laws of the universe, by which we, as physical 
beings, are governed, and Divine administration 
as respects our moral nature. That we are gov¬ 
erned by certain fixed, tin alterable laws, as 
regards the physical world, none deny. Were 
we to throw ourselves from a lofty pinnacle, or 
leap from a mighty precipice, we would not 
expect to evade the accelerating power of gravity; 
neither would we expect to elude pain should we 
place our hand in the glowing embers. And the 
same is true in the moral world. If we acknowl¬ 
edge God to have established a form of govern¬ 
ment of which we are the moral subjects, it is 
equally absurd to violate with impnnity any of 
those laws. People flatter themselves that, be¬ 
cause the hand of justice is stayed—because the 
sentence against an evil work is not executed 
speedily, the idea of the administration of a 
moral law is false; but here we may trace an 
analogy. We violate a law of our physical 
nature by indulging to excess our natural appe¬ 
tite. and often the intervening time ere we expe¬ 
rience the result is so great that we fail to trace 
from cause to effect; yet we doubt not a cause 
must have existed, that that cause was the in¬ 
dulgence of a carnal appetite, and the effect, 
reaping the Units thereof. 
Because men’s hearts are set to do evil, they 
riot in wickedness, trample under their feet the 
commands of God. “roll sin as a sweet morsel 
under their tongue,’* until the law becomes of no 
effect. But in - Holy Writ” we read “Ven¬ 
geance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord,” 
and again it is written, “ Be not deceived. God 
is not mocked. Whatsoever a man soweth that 
shall he also reap.” 
God has made our moral nature of so delicate 
a texture that it is easily improved or impaired, 
improved by use, weakened by disuse. Pope 
did not come far short of the truth when he wrote, 
“Vice is a monster of so frightful ruicn, 
That to be hated needs but to be seen; 
Hut to be seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
We first endure, then pity, then embrace." 
By frequent refusals to obey the faithful moni¬ 
tor. its voice may cease to be heard; but when 
summoned to the bar of God, and we would fain 
court the favor of Heaven, another voice will he 
heard to say. “ Ye knew your duty, but ye did 
it not” The Apostle Pall declares that the 
“ Gentiles, who have not the law, have a law 
unto themselves, their conscience also bearing 
witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accus¬ 
ing or else excusing one another.” If, then, the 
heathen, who have not the law, are without ex¬ 
cuse. how great will be our condemnation if the 
law which is given us be violated. If aught be 
found against us whea called to give an account 
of our stewardship, we shall invariably find the 
door of mercy forever closed. Mercy long 
abused, and the favor of God long rejected, are 
no longer to be trifled with, and we find our 
abode with the worm that never diem. Solomon 
says, in one of his Proverbs, “Rejoice, 0, young 
man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee 
in the days of thy youth, and walk iu the way’s 
of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but 
know thou, that for all these things God will 
bring thee into judgment” a. b. 
Yates, Orleans Co., N. Y, 1803. 
compensation. Success, therefore, is not abso¬ 
lute, but relative. Cjesar and Cromwell at¬ 
tained the highest place in their respective gov¬ 
ernments; but it cost Casa it bis life, and Crom¬ 
well hie happiness. A man resolves to be 
rich, and he may succeed in that, particular; but 
when you ask for his moral or intellectual 
attainments, it does not appear that he has much 
to boast of, because the exclusive education of a 
single faculty has been fatal to the growth of the 
rest. We know that if the body lie kept too 
much in one position it. becomes deformed and 
distorted,—is it not equally true of the mind? 
People who have a “mission,” or a “speciality,” 
are always tiresome. Indeed, that, mind which 
fixes itself on one idea, or one aspect of truth, is 
already on the right road to insanity. The 
world is full of satires od that unfortunate class 
of persons who are intellectually great, but 
wholly ignorant of practical matters. Such was 
the Grecian astronomer, Thales, who was so 
absorbed in the contemplation of the stars, that 
he unconsciously walked into an open well 
There is a good story of Wordsworth and 
Coleridge trying to unharness a horse. They 
got along very well till they came to taking off 
the collar. This bothered them very much; they 
tugged and tugged, but all in vain; they could 
not remove it. At last, a servant-girl came to 
their assistance,—turned the collar upside down, 
and thus solved the mystery. Now, ignorance 
in this case was no crime; but it certainly shows 
these great men in a very ridiculous light. It 
show.- that there was a defect in their education 
which no book learning could remedy. Partial 
culture leads to partial success. 
Success, it is evident, may be either real or 
apparent. There may be apparent failure and 
real good fortune concealed. Had Defoe suc¬ 
ceeded as a political writer, be would never have 
Crusoe.” Milton received twenty 
No money is better spent on a 
farm, ur anywhere else, than that which enables 
the wife to make herself, her children, her husband, 
and her house, appear fully up to their circum¬ 
stances. The consciousness of a torn or button- 
less jacket, or soiled dress, degrades a boy or 
girl in their estimation, and who that is a man 
does not feel himself degraded under the con¬ 
sciousness that he is wearing a dirty shirt? The 
wife who is worthy of the name will never allow 
these things if she is provided with the means 
for their prevention, and it is in the noble en¬ 
deavor to maintain for herself and family a 
respectability of appearance which their station 
demands, with moans and help far too limited, 
which so irritates, and chafes, and annoys her 
pride, that many a time the wife's heart, and 
constitution, and health, are all broken together. 
This is the history of multitudes of fanners’ 
wives, and the niggardly natures which allow it, 
after taking an intelligent view of the subject, 
are simply beneath contempt What adds to the 
better appearance ol the farm, increases its 
value, and the respectability of it? occupant; so 
that it is always a good investment morally and 
pecuniarily, for a farmer to supply his wile gen¬ 
erously aud cheerfully, according to his ability, 
with the means ol' making her family and home 
neat, tasteful, aud tidy. A dollar's worth of 
lime, a shilling ribbon, or a few pennies" worth 
of paint, may be so used as to give an impression 
about a 
Written for Moore'* Rural New-Yorker. 
RURAL LETTERS.-NO. I. 
I’ve been thinking to-day, Mr. Rural, that 
we country girls are not such losers by our re¬ 
tired life as gay city ladies imagine. True, we 
have not the advantages of refined society, of 
association with the great men and women of 
our country; but yto have kind, loyal friends, 
untrammeled by fashion, free and independent 
as Nature made them, without the city’s polish, 
but, also, thank Heaven, without the city’s vices. 
Then, our sweet communings with Nature. 
Where in your crowded, dusty cities can you 
find such a scene as this:—Wreaths of blue mist 
permeating every nook and crevice, softening 
the rough outline of the rocky bluffs, adding a 
new grace to the grand old forest, slowly drifting 
down, wave after wave, as if the great blue sea 
above us were silently but surely overwhelming 
us amid its billows. Golden arrows from the 
great western quiver shoot above and through 
the mist canopy, tinting with radiant brightness 
the drifts of pink and snow that sleep on the 
gnarled hraches of tho old apple trees,— and, 
crowning all, comes the sweet warbling of wild- 
wood songsters, waking an anthem of praise to 
the great All-Father. 
How strange it is that farmers’ daughters can¬ 
not, as a general thing, appreciate the blessings 
of country life. How they envy their city cousins 
who, decked in rich attire, attend concerts, lec¬ 
tures. operas, Ac., while they, dressed in simple, 
unfashionable garments, know no higher excite¬ 
ment than making a pleasant call on some neigh¬ 
bor. It's all wrong, girls, for us to be discon¬ 
tented witli our life. It may be that we must 
labor hard, and though we cannot boast as white 
hands, and faces, as our city sisters, yet there is 
nothing to keep us from becoming as good and 
intelligent women as they. Yes, Intelligent! 
Many seem to think because thoir time must be 
spent in tho country, they can never become 
educated. “If I only lived in the city,” say 
such, •• I would try to improve; but here there is 
nothing to encourage, nothing to assist me.” 
Nothing to enourage us. Does the bright sun 
shine iu vain? Do the merry birds wake iu vain 
tbeir notes of rejoicing? Do our silent teachers, 
the flowers, blossom and die in vain? There is 
much to encourage us. Sweet influences which 
the jaded pleasure-seeker can never com prebend, 
continually surround us. Let us only bo true to 
ourselves,—true to the Goo-like love of truth 
and knowledge implanted 
POETICAL PARODIES AND PUNS 
Punch has given us a parody suggested by 
Miss Braddou. the unsuccessful actress who, find¬ 
ing that she could win her bread by literature 
and not otherwise, is writing novels with a per¬ 
fect abandon: 
“There *vw» a young woman, 
And, what, do you think ? 
Sho lived upon nothing 
But paper, pens, ink. 
Paper, pens, ink, were the chief of her diet, 
And now this young woman will never be quiet.” 
An entertaining book compiled by Rev. John 
Booth, entitled “Epigrams, Ancient and Modern,” 
furnishes a number ol felicitous follies; among 
others, Butler's critique upon Milton: 
“ If you czccpt II Penseroso, 
The rest of Milton is but so-so." 
He gives also Dr. Person’s play upon the name 
of the hapless Cartbagenlan queen: 
“When Dido found zEneas would not come, 
She wept in silence aud was Di do-dumb.” 
More pointed than this is the humorous dia¬ 
logue between a clergyman and his fellow- 
traveler: 
“ C. —I’ve lost my portmanteau, 
T —I pity your jrief. 
C.—All my sermons are in it, 
T .—I pity the thief.” 
This of Erskine's, contrasting the French with 
the English is capital: 
“ The French have taste in all they do, 
Which we arc quite without; 
For Nature, that to them gave gout, 
To us gave only gout.” 
And this upon “Anacreon Moore” is very 
prettily turned: 
“ When Limerick once in idle whim 
Moore, as her member, gaily courted, 
The hoys, for fun's sake, asked of him 
To state what party he supported; 
When thus to them the answer ran: 
‘ I'm of no party as a man, 
But as a poet, am a-lory.' ” 
of life, of cheerfulness, and of thrift, 
home altogether beyond the value of the means 
employed for the purpose. 
Finally, let the farmer always remember that 
his wife’s cheerful and hourly co-operation is 
essential to Ins success, and is really of as much 
value in attaining it, all things considered, as 
anything he tan do; and as she is very certainly 
his superior in her moral nature, it legitimately 
follows that he should not only regard her as his 
equal in material matters, but should habitually 
accord to her that deference, that consideration, 
and that high respect which is of right her due, 
and which can never tail to impress on the 
children and servants, who daily witness it, a 
dignity and elevation of manner, and thought, 
and feeling, and deportment, which will prove 
to all who see them that the wife is a lady 
and the husband a man, a gentleman; and a 
large pecuniary success, with a high moral posi¬ 
tion and wide social influence, will be the almost 
certain results. 
written 
pounds for Paradise Lost,—some of the modern 
novelists have received almost twenty thousand; 
but. 1 think Milton'h work bids fair to live the 
longest. Popularity, as compared with Fame, 
is like a flower compared with a star. I might 
mention fifty poets and novelists who have gained 
popularity, to one who has acquired fame. Yet 
1 believe most of these might have succeeded if 
they had been willing to work. What they have 
done shows what they might have done. But 
they were deluded by a present success. For 
the writer who aims at popularity does not strive 
for excellence, but for applause. Well he has 
his reward. The great man shows his greatness 
by wailing. "Patience is power.” “I wish 
popularity,” said Lord Mansfield, “but it is 
that popularity which follows, not that which is 
run after.” 
He who will succeed must be his own master. 
—must make pleasure subordinate to improve¬ 
ment,—must be armed at all points. What do 
yon think of that minister who deliberately com¬ 
mitted to the flames about a hundred of his 
manuscript sermons, all valuable, in order that 
he might be compelled to write new ones? He 
was a man who realized the dangers of idleness. 
He knew that to be stationary was impossible,— 
that he must either advance or recede,—that to 
be idle was to gain nothing, and, eventually, to 
lose everything. 
Finally, success implies a trust in Providence. 
In one of Kingsley’s sermons I find the follow¬ 
ing:—"Some one once asked the Duke of Wel¬ 
lington what was his secret for winning battles. 
He said that he had no secret; that he did not 
know how to win bat tles, and that no man knew. 
For all that man could do, was to use the utmost 
skill and prudence in laying his plans; but from 
the moment the battle began, no mortal man 
could tell what the end would be. A thousand 
new accidents might spring up every hour, and 
scatter all his plans to the winds; aud all that 
man could do was to comfort himself with the 
thought that he had done his best, and to trust in 
God.” 
It would be well to apply this lesson to our 
own case. In the management and results of 
the war now going on, there has been much to 
discourage even the most hopeful. Our defeats 
have been too frequent, and our victories too 
costly. But we believe that God reigns, and 
that he is on the side of right. 
Albion, Mich., 1863. H. M. French. 
Tuk Lady and her Thimble.—As an in¬ 
stance of the. force of habit, a lady remarked to us 
the other day that so accustomed was she to 
wearing her thimble when sewing, that she now 
never sits down to her sewing-machine without 
putting it on although it is of no service to her 
in the management of the machine. Her finger 
does not feel right without it. Yet notwithstand¬ 
ing the power of habit,, this little implement 
seems in danger of going out of use, along with 
the bellows, the fire-dogs, tinder-boxes and many 
other familiar articles of domestic use, now su¬ 
perseded by new inventions. All sorts of sewing 
are now done by machinery, and the time will 
come when the needle and the thimble will be 
as little seen in the hands of women as the distaff 
aud the spindle now are. 
in every human 
breast,—and all things will lend us a helping 
hand. Let us have some aim.—pure, lofty, un¬ 
dying.—and bravely press forward, pausing not 
till the prize is won. Thus, aud thus only, can 
we prove ourselves worthy of the great boon of 
life, conferred upon us by Him who is all wis¬ 
dom, all truth, aDd all holiness! 
Brandc Cottage, Wit., 1863. Barbara TIhaxde. 
The Blues.— Cheerfulness and occupation are 
closely allied. Idle men are rarely happy. How 
should they lie? The brain and muscles were 
made for action, and neither can be healthy 
without vigorous exercise. Into the lazy brain 
crawl spider-like fancies, filling it with cobwebs 
that shut out the light and make it a fit abode for 
-loathed melancholy." Invite the stout hand¬ 
maiden, brisk and busy thought, into the intel¬ 
lectual chambers, and she will soon brush away 
such unwholesome tenants. Blessed be work, 
whether it be of the head, or the hand, or both 
It demolishes Chimera as effectually as Bellero- 
phon, backed by the goddess of Wisdom, dis¬ 
posed of the original monster of that name. 
0 six, how you paint your face! how you 
flatter us poor mortals on to death! You never 
appear to the sinner in your true character; you 
make fair promises, but you never fulfill one; 
your tongue is smoother than oil, but the poison 
of asps is under your lip! 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
HOW TO GET A HUSBAND. 
First— You must have plenty of that uncom¬ 
mon article, "common sense.” Now, remember 
this is absolutely necessary, because if you are 
shallow it will show itself in iittlo silly sentences, 
actions, and sillier fixings on your persons, such 
as bows, ends, tassels, etc. 
Secondly—You must be well informed—that is, 
if you wish to have a sensible man for your com¬ 
panion through life: for intelligent young men 
want wives who can converse on a few 
subjects beside their domestic affairs and the 
last new fashion. This last does not satisfy the 
mind of a man. After the day's work is over 
and he has compared notes with you, there’s the 
great outside world to talk about. Not back¬ 
biting your neighbors; for that is the resort of 
those whose empty brains find nothing better to 
talk about. O, no! but something far above and 
beyond that. Depend upon it, girls, you must 
inform yourselves, and the cheapest and pleas¬ 
antest way after having been blessed with a 
common school education is to read the newspa- 
If ever Christianity appears in its power, it is 
when it erects its trophies upon the tomb; when 
it takes up its votaries where the world leaves 
them; and fills the breach with immortal hope 
in dying moments. 
Trials. —Every man deems that he has pre¬ 
cisely the trials and temptations which are the 
hardest of all for him to bear: but they are so be¬ 
cause they are the very ones he needs. 
Beautify Your Premises.— Every person 
who owns a foot of earth, or has the lease of a 
southern wall, whereon to let a trine creep up, 
and lets May or June go by without improving 
the opportunity of doing something for their beau¬ 
tification, should be considered remiss in a very 
important duty. No matter if you don't own the 
house and yard you occupy, still plant flowers, 
and viues, and slirubbery, for your own comfort 
and your own heart's sake: 
Let the flowers look upward iu every place, 
Tlirough this beautiful world of ours; 
For dear as the smile of an old friend’s face, 
Is the smile of bright sweet flowers. 
Literature for all Uses. —Literature has 
furnished an acceptable instrument for every 
struggle of the age. In her golden book every 
one has registered his vote. She is a shield to 
righteousness and virtue, a temple to wisdom, a 
paradise to iuuoeency, a cup of delight to love, 
a Jacob's ladder to the poet, but also a fierce 
weapon to party spirit, a plaything for trilling, a 
stimulant to wantonness, an easy chair to lazi¬ 
ness. a spring-wheel to gossip, a fashion to vanity, 
a merchandise to the spirit of gain, and has 
served lif?e a handmaid, all the great and little, 
pernicious and useful, noble and mean interests 
of the time.— Menzel. 
A Charitable Lesson. —It would be unchar¬ 
itable and severe to condemn for faults, without 
taking some thought of the sterling goodness 
which mingles in and lessens them. 
In our adversity it is night with us, and in the 
night many beasts of prey range abroad that keep 
their dens through the day. 
If patrons were a good deal more disinterest¬ 
ed, ingratitude would probably be a good deal 
more rare. 
