0 
would be nature’s world were it not for this 
spirit adding new life and beauty. In vain 
might we search for beauty. All would be a 
listless void, destitute of aught that could satisfy 
the better mind, and man. himself, who was 
formed but little lower than the angels, and 
placed here to enjoy the world of nature, what 
would be his enjoyment without this spirit? 
How dreary would be his life, were it not for the 
beautiful and delightful sensations caused by its 
grandeur.—the loDgings of his Immortal Soul. 
June, 1803. Louisa B. Byers. 
dition. The guide requested him to pray to his 
Gon. The traveler refused, for he had never 
“learned to lift the heart and bend the knee.” 
“Some God must be worshiped,” said the guide, 
and he bowed to his idol. So it ever is with wo- 
man,—Some idol will be worshiped. Guide her 
affections to her Maker. As naturally as the 
ivy clings to the old castle ruins, does woman 
seek support. Train the young tendrils that they 
may cling to the strong for strength. Cultivate 
her temper. The rainbow of hop 13 should ever il¬ 
luminate her countenance, her words should fall 
like the dew-drops of evening, refreshing the 
for every woman should reverence and 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
IN MEMORIAM. 
A MOTHER’S PRAYER FOR HER CHILD. 
BY MAGGIE M. KBTCHUM, 
Father, lowly on my knee, 
I, a suppliant, come t« Thee; 
Such the anguish of my mind, 
Scarcely words for prayer 1 find. 
Father! grief hath made me wild— 
Spare, oh, spare ruy darling child! 
Thou hast power to stay disease; 
Thou had power to give him ease; 
Free Ids little limbs from pain; 
Still the throbbing of his brain. 
Lowly bending on my knee, 
Father 1 list tny prayer to Then. 
Thou didst give him to my heart— 
Of my inmost life a part; 
Grant him life; to health restore; 
Rack my bleeding heart no more. 
Can l watch hb agony ? 
Father I give him back to me 
Bring the color to his cheek: 
Give him strength—so wan and weak; 
Light again with ‘miles his eye— 
Father! to thy throne on high, 
Morning, noon and night nliall rise 
Grateful praise and sacrifice 
But, oh, God! shouldst thou deny 
Answer to my anguished cry, 
Bear me up, a*) faint, so weak, 
Let my burdened heart not break; 
Make me feel, with Thy dear Son, 
Not my will, but Thine be done. 
[Evening Post 
BY VKAKt VOLTH8. 
The moon is wan, and her sickly light 
Is hid by the sombre cloud 
Whose dusky folds, like a sable pall, 
The wintry sky enshroud, 
The wild wind sweeps thro’ the withered boughs, 
And howls like a spirit lost, 
And the last red leaves of the summer time, 
On its shadowy wings are tossed. 
On such a night I think of those 
Who sleep in the earth'9 cold breast. 
Pale friends, sweet friends, I envy you 
The peace of your dreamless rest. 
Frail things were ye as the summer rose 
Which die* while ttie year is young, 
As bright and fair in your life's spring-time 
As the buds 'mid its green leaves hung. 
I cannot wish ye had longer stayed 
’Mid the scenes of this busy earth; 
For well I know that its empty show 
To a thousand woes give birth. 
No stain was on your spirit wings, 
No shade in your beaming eye, 
Ye passed from earth ere yet ye knew 
How hard it was to die. 
How hard to die, when the bum ing hopes 
Of life’s summer-time grow strong, 
And the thousand blissful dreams of earth 
Upon the spirit throng; 
But ye went tike birds to a foreign clime, 
When the summer hours were passed, 
And ye knew, like these birds, that far away 
Ye should find a home at last. 
Sheridan, N. Y., 1863. 
Twice twelve moons have waxed and waned, 
Twice the flowers have sprung, 
And autumn twice her golden lines 
0‘erhill and valley flung, 
Since from the teeming North went forth 
Tho»e legions hrave, and strong, 
As champions for their country’s cause, 
Avengers of her wrong; 
Yet still they fight, for truth and right,— 
The beautiful, the brave, 
Or on the field their lives they yield, 
And find a martyr's grave 
A martyr's grave i Oh, glorious boon 
For loyal hearts, and true, 
When treason, bold and deadly, stalks 
Our proud Republic through. 
There thousands of our bravest, best, 
In distant uuknown graves, 
Sleep 'ueatb a soil where lately trod 
The weary feet of slaves. 
There they struggled, bled, and died, 
Tliat others might be free,— 
An humble offering at the shrine 
Of blessed Liberty 
Oh, martyred patriots,—Freedom’s sons 
On Freedom * soil begot 1 
By every drop of patriot blood 
Which consecrates that spot, 
By every sundered tie of home, 
By all the fiery seat 
With which they rushed to strike a blow 
For home, and Freedom's weal; 
By their orphaned ehildreu’a wail6,— 
Their stricken widow's tears,— 
Their names immortal shall live on 
Through counties* future years: 
Shall live while beats one grateful heart 
To bless their memory, 
Who lasted death to make our land 
A country of the free. 
Orange, N. Y., 1863 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
RAINY DAYS. 
weary, 
wear religion’s wreath. 
In conclusion, her education should be practi¬ 
cal, shedding its silvery light around her path¬ 
way of life. Such an education would fit her to 
perform all her duties, as sister, wife, and mother. 
If woman does her duty to herself she will not be 
dependent on “Woman’s Rights'Conventions for 
a position. A School Girl. 
Lima, N. Y., 1863. 
The rainy days—who does not greet them 
with pleasure? Who would not gladly exchange 
a few days of brightness and of sunshine for those 
“old-fashioned” rainy days, — such as we hear 
the old folks talk ofi — days when the industrious 
plowman, driven from the field by the rain, took 
shelter in his humble cabin and spent a peaceful 
hour in felling his family the romantic legend 
and the still stranger tale. Who could not spend 
an hour with pleasure in noting the many deeds 
of those rainy days of old? Yes, those rainy 
days were the days for amusement—the days in 
which the happy spinster, pitting beside her 
kitchen fire, kept time to the continual patter of 
the rain by the rattle of the treadle and the hum 
of the wheel, while the honest pioneer with his 
rifle in his hand taught his children the first 
lessons of patriotism. 
Such are some of the many associations of the 
rainy days of the “ olden time,” but we have our 
rainy days also, and though they may not be 
spent in the same manner as those of our fathers, 
yet they are to all welcome guests. AH will say 
that they enjoy the rainy days. Then it is that 
men launch themselves out from the cares and 
duties of sunny weather, and in a spirit of half 
forgetfulness enter upon some pleasing day¬ 
dream. It is then that authors and writers give 
us their true sentiments and characters unalloyed 
and unsullied by too treacherous Art. Who can 
doubt that many of the flowing lines of Poe, and 
the pleasing verses of Whittikr, were written 
when they were greeted by “the patter of the 
soft rain overhead.’ 
The summer rains—how pleasant—how cheer¬ 
ing to the Bight. All nature drooping and fading 
under the scorching heat of the mid-day sun is 
revived and again made beautiful and green. 
The rains of autumn—do we not love them, 
feo." They fall with measured and steady tread 
as if to warn ns that 
“Beauty has itt time to fade, 
And leaves their time to fall. 
They speak to us of the Autumn of Life, when 
their gentle drops shall no longer greet our eyes, 
but fall in solemn accents upon our graves. 
The gloomy rains of winter—gladly do we 
greet them mingled wilh their hail and sleet; 
and the reviving and gladdening showers of 
spring once more calling forth the flowers from 
their winter retreats—who would idly pass them 
ABOUT DRESS 
We make the following extract from a work 
recently issued by Dr. Dio Lewis, entitled, 
“ Weak Lungs and How to make (hem Strong:” 
The waist should be several inches larger than 
the woman’s body; a little shorter than the pres¬ 
ent fashion, and full in front, that the chest may 
enjoy the freest action. The bands of Lhe skirts 
should be much larger than the body; the but¬ 
tons to be placed on the band of the inside skirt, 
just as they are on a gentleman's pants for sus¬ 
penders, and the same elastic suspenders worn, 
crossing behind. Make button-holes in the bands 
of the other skirts, to correspond with the but¬ 
tons on the inside skirt, and button on; thus one 
pair of suspenders will carry three or more skirts. 
This Style of dress is attended by no discomfort 
to the wearer, and allows full action to every 
organ of the body. Of course, corsets should 
never be worn. And with the skirts supported 
as above described, there is no apology for wear¬ 
ing them. The dress I have described may be 
made so pretty that it will be much admired. 
Whalebones have no business in a woman’s 
dress. They spoil all that beauty of outline 
which Powers and other great artists have found 
in the natural woman, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE EDUCATION OF WOMAN. 
THE CLOCK OF LIFE. 
“Woman is the most contemptible of creatures, 
even the little wire-worm was made before wo¬ 
man,” said the man who coubl not bo convinced 
that the earth revolved ; “for if it did, any fool 
might know the water in my mill-pond would 
run away.” And all the ancient wise men agreed 
with him iu considering woman a grade lower 
than man. In time, however, the “lords of cre¬ 
ation” began to consider the expediency of giving 
greater advantages to these “necessary evils.” 
An English gentleman, intent upon trying the 
experiment, advised with a phi'osopher about 
the education of his daughters. The philosopher 
coincided with him in the opinion “that, every 
should be able to write her own name, in 
sheshonld need to sign a deed; should under- 
The Bible describes the years of man to be 
threescore years and ten, or fourscore years. 
Now, life is very uncertain, and we may not live 
a single day longer; but if we divide the four¬ 
score years uf an old man’s life into twelve 
parts, like the dial of the clock, it will allow 
almost seven years for every figure. When a 
boy is seven years old then it is ore o’clock of 
his life; when he arrives at fourteen years it 
will be two o'clock: and when at twenty-one 
years, it will be three o'clock, should it please 
God thus to spare bis life. In this manner we 
may always know the time of our life, and look¬ 
ing at the clock may perhaps remind us of it 
At what hour you and I shall die. is only known 
to Him to whom all things are known. 
I know not what o’clock it may be with the 
reader, but I know very well what lime it is with 
myself; and. that, if i mean to do anything in this 
world which hitherto 1 have neglected, it is high 
time to set about, it. Look about you. I earnestly 
entreat you, and now and then ask yourself, 
reader, what o’clock it is with you? Watch. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. 
It is written over the face of all nature,— It 
dwells in all her works. Whenever or wherever 
we see aught that is beautiful or sublime, we 
cannot fail to discern its presence. It is as visi¬ 
ble in the tiny violet springing by the wayside, 
with its drop of dew sparkling in the morning 
sunbeam, as in the lofty oak which has withstood 
the blast of many a storm,—as visible on the 
stars that dance so merrily in the wide expanse 
of heaven’s firmament as in the blinding rays of 
our great central orb. It. is not found alone in 
Italy'8 fair domain, that classic land of poets; 
not alone amid the -cones of grandeur and sub¬ 
limity, her groves fragrant with the perfume of 
mauy flowers, her hulls of art filled with the 
paintings and sculpture of those illustrious men 
of other times whose fame is world-renowned. 
Nor yet in Switzerland, with her beautiful aud 
picturesque scenery which has beeu the admira¬ 
tion ot generations long since passed away. It 
is found in every dime and age; in all the world it 
veils every scene on which the eye of man may 
rest. It clothes each with a beautifymg hue 
that adds new luster to the plainest garb of 
nature. 
Whenever or however found, it exerts an ele- 
vatiug influence over fallen man, it tends to ele¬ 
vate and ennoble the carnal mind: even 
They interfere not less 
with that peculiar nndulating action of the chest 
and abdomen which results from the normal ac¬ 
tion of the thoracic and abdominal viscera. And 
if the waist be short and loose, as advised above, 
there will be no need of whalebones to keep it 
down. God knew what Ue was doing when He 
made the human body, and made it just right in 
every way; we cannot alter its shape without 
destroying its beautiful symmetry, aiul causing 
disease and premature death. 
In all seasons of the year, and in ail climates, 
the best material for dress, for old and young, for 
strong and weak, is woolen. It is the poorest 
conductor of heat, aud therefore secures the 
most equable temperature. This is the principal 
object of dress. The superiority of woolen 
clothing for babes is even greater in .1 uly than 
in January. In the warmest days a single 
thickness of soft flannel will suffice. But if linen 
or cotton bo worn, the garment is soon moistened 
by perspiration, and two or three additional 
thicknesses are needed to protect lhe child 
against the ill effects of a draught. In warm 
weather we find it necessary to wear woolen 
garments in the gymnasium, as a protection 
against a chill from draughts while perspiring. 
Our soldiers in the South find flannel their best 
friend, securing them against the extremes and 
exposures of their camp and field life. Black¬ 
smiths. glass-blowers, furnace-men, and others 
exposed to the highest temperatures, find woolen 
indispensable. Few practices will do so much to 
secure the comfort and protect the health of 
young children as dressing them in flannel night 
and day, the year round. It may be objected 
that flannel irritates a delicate skin. This is 
often so. as the skin is now treated. But there 
is no baby’s skin so thin and delicate that daily 
bathing and faithful friction may not remove 
this extreme susceptibility. And as the akin is 
the organ upon which the outer world makes its 
impressions, nothing is more important than that 
all morbid susceptibility should be removed. 
woman 
case 
stand Geography, so as to know which room was 
north, and which south : chemistry sufficiently 
to make good soap, and excellent bread ; philo¬ 
sophical principles well enough to milk ; but, 
above all, she should be taught obedience.” With 
all respect to the opinions of sages, we maintain 
God intended no such difference : but designed 
woman to be a companion of man. Not that she 
is to take part in all his avocations : for Gon has 
made a distinction, aud why should weeti'ive to do 
it away. Gon has Dot given to females thepbys- 
ical endurance te share all man's toils, or a voice 
to sway public assemblies. He has, however, 
given to her an equally noble mission, and to 
perform all the duties it imposes upon her she 
should he as well educated as man. 
We conclude so first, from the position Gon 
has assigned to her as mother and instructor; 
second, because it has been ascertained that in 
proportion as woman is elevated or degraded the 
nation becomes civilized or barbarous. Confu¬ 
cius overlooking this simple principle, is the rea¬ 
son why China occupies her present position 
among nations. Third, God has given to hqr the 
same faculties that he has to her brother. Fe¬ 
males have governed nations and presided in 
councils. In literature it is generally admitted 
that she holds a high rank. Fourth, ignorance 
is the mother of superstition, and the twin sister 
of vice. Fifth, a desire for know ledge has been 
implanted in her bosom, and if uot. satisfied, de¬ 
generates into what has been culled woman's 
failing, curiosity. Lastly, she is an immortal be¬ 
ing, destined to live while Clou lives, and exert 
her faculties, whether stunted or developed. 
Woman has a threc-lbld nature—her education 
should therefore be Physical, Intellectual and 
Moral. Physical education includes a thorough 
knowledge of Physiology, Anatomy, and Hy¬ 
giene. This would fit her to care for herself and 
others in sickness as well as in health. What 
nobler specimen of a woman can be given than 
Florence Nightingale. She was physically 
educated. Every woman should have some oc¬ 
cupation upon which to depend. This would 
save much suffering, and stop a feartid amount of 
crime. One lady of whom we have read under¬ 
stood twenty-one kinds of business; when one 
failed she found employment in another. Ail 
should be able to do anything that can be done 
with a needle. Her education might be Orna¬ 
mental, and she be well versed in etiquette. It 
has been said pleasing manners insure friends. 
It should be Domestic that she may render her 
home a paradise of sunshine and flowers. Still 
she should not be so wholly engrossed in these 
matters as the wife of a distinguished orator, 
who, when her husband was rehearsing to her 
his best oration, interrupted its sublimest strain 
by exclaiming, “Why. William, there is a hole in 
your stocking.” To prevent this she should be 
Intellectually educated. Have a thorough knowl¬ 
edge of the languages and sciences. Understand 
the laws of the mind and possess general infor¬ 
mation, obtained from reading and observation. 
Woman’s most difficult task, and the one in which 
she most frequently fails, is to live in society and 
not wear its yoke,—to listen to the thoughts, feel¬ 
ings and persuasions of others, and yet always 
act from the promptings of her own reason and 
Conscience,—occupy a position of social depen¬ 
dence. and still maintain her self respect and in¬ 
dependence—to properly love her family. while 
There is a vast difference between the aspect 
of illness, however serious, and of death. A dif¬ 
ference which none can understand who have not 
witnessed it. We may watch by a sick bed week 
after week, and month after month, and feel no 
hesitation iu bringing to it the pursuits and 
amusements of common life. We smile, and the 
smile is without sadness: we laugh, and the mirth 
gives us no shock. We even wish, as we say, to 
distract the invalid's thoughts; we know that 
business and pleasure imply the existence of a 
hope of recovery, aud we feel that by encourag¬ 
ing such a hope we do, in fact, strengthen life. 
But there is a look, indescribable, but instantane¬ 
ously felt, which acts upon us like the solemnity 
of a religious rite. As we gaze upon it, business 
becomes profanation, and mirth mockery. Death 
has laid its grasp upon that mortal frame, and 
death, however gentle it- approach, is the sum¬ 
mons to a preference before which every intere.-: 
thought and engagement of earth must be tested 
for eternity.— M. A, Jewell. 
0, what a lesson.—what a pleasing and in¬ 
structive lesson,—is taught us by the pattering 
drops of falling ruin. Let that lesson be 
studied, —let rainy days be improved, and 
instruction will be gained even though we may 
be confined in a dreary room. Arno. 
Hopedale, Ohio, 1863. 
THE INSINCERITY OF SOCIAL LIFE. 
longings of his immortal soul. Inspired by its 
influence he turns to contemplate the majesty of 
Nature’s great and marvelous works, upon which 
he finds abundant food to least his poetic spirit, 
ami while meditating upon this mysterious uni¬ 
verse. man sinks into nothingness in comparison 
with the mighty works of the great Creator. It 
has been very truthfully said that G<>n is the 
great Master Poet, and we might add that crea¬ 
tion is Uis master-piece, iu which is blended 
grandeur and magnificence, and v> hieh displays 
Uis infinite wisdom, power and holiness, and in 
each creative part is infused the spirit of poetry. 
Who can contemplate Niagara's stupendous cata¬ 
ract aud not led his soul awed within him as 
he beholds its wondrous beauty i Yet this is but 
one of the many scenes,—hut a mere atom in the 
world of immensity. 
Whatever form the spirit of poetry may take, 
from whatsoever material it may emanate, it has 
a tendency to raise the soul to a wider and more 
extended field of thought,—to a higher sphere of 
existence—and, as it were, connects our little 
life here with the boundless and indescribable 
hereafter. Religion,—that never failing source 
of peace and love, that sweet bond of fellowship, 
—partakes of this spirit aud helps to form a con¬ 
necting link between this present and future— 
between this life and that which is to come. It 
has also been the fountain of that spirit which 
has shed a never fading halo round the lives of 
those Christian martyrs who died a sacrifice to 
the tyranny of wicked despotism. It is that 
spirit which unfolds to the poet the mysteries of 
the glowing nniverse, of Sentiment and Fancy, 
where every scene is filled with the fragrance of 
the blossoms of Hope’s fairest flowers. It un¬ 
veils to him the hidden splendors of these de¬ 
lightful realms, where fancy may soar unre¬ 
strained by the pomp and vanity of this world, 
unfettered by aught that can mar its brightness. 
His enraptured mind dwells amid those flowery 
scenes of ideal loveliness, until, wrapt in ecstacy, 
soft and zephyr-like music floats around him, and 
his imagination forms bright and radiant concep¬ 
tions, which appear clothed in poetic language, 
while nations are held in the viewless chains of 
admiration, and in the sublimity of the contem¬ 
plation, the material seems to lose itself in the 
spiritual, and the world becomes fascinated with 
his production. How dull, how unharmonious 
Grief and Trial— Griefs and trials are all 
matters of comparison; we are apt to overlook 
this as we grow old. When we have faced the 
great battle of life, and learnt to stand alone in 
the conflict, looking out to heaven for aid, we can 
scarcely forget the trembling, almost agonized 
hopelessness with which we gazed around, 
searching for human guidance, when in theprov 
idence of God, we were first brought into a po¬ 
sition of difficulty and left to act according to our 
own discretion, with our faith in the judgment > 
others shaken, and our confidence in ourselves- 
naught. This is the trial of hundreds who bare 
within themselves the power and the will to act 
rightly and fearlessly, but whose faults have bid¬ 
den from themselves the strength of their own 
character. 
DUTY OF AMERICAN MOTHERS 
I.v an essay on the duties of American mothers 
our own Webster says: 
Mothers are the affectionate and effective 
teachers of the human race. The mother begins 
the process of training wilh the infant in her 
arms. It is she who directs its first mental and 
spiritual pulsations. She conducts it along the 
impressible years of childhood and youth, and 
hopes to deliver it to Lhe rough contest and 
tumultuous scenes of life armed by those good 
principles which her child has first received from 
maternal care and love. If we draw within the 
circle of our own contemplation the mothers of a 
civilized nation, what do we see? We behold so 
so many artificers, working not on frail and 
perishable matter, but on the immortal mind, 
moulding and fashioning beings who are to exist 
forever. We applaud the artist whose skill and 
genius present the mimic man upon the canvas; 
we admire and celebrate the sculptor who works 
out that same image in enduring marble; but 
how insignificant are these achievements, though 
the highest and fairest in all the departments of 
art, in comparison with the great vocation of 
mothers’ They work not upon the canvas that 
shall fail, or the marhle that shall crumble into 
dust, but upon mind, upon spirit, which is to last 
forever, and which is to tear throughout itsdura- 
The W t orld.— There is more sunshine than 
rain —more joy than pain —more love than 
bate—more smiles than tears, in the world. 
Those who say to the contrary we should not 
choose for our friends or companions. The good 
heart, the tender feelings, and the pleasant dis¬ 
position, make smiles, love and sunshine every¬ 
where. A word spoken pleasantly is a large 
spot of sunshine on the heart—who has not seen 
its effects? A smile is like the bursting out of 
the sun behind a cloud to him who thought he 
had no friend in the wide world. The tear of 
afieetion. how brightly it shines along the dark 
path of life! A thousand gems make a milky 
way on earth, more glorious than the glorious 
cluster over our heads. 
Tiiet w ho live with falsehoods—fashion. v * 
ity, worldly ambition, self-importance—as if f * 7 
involved lasting interests, will be blind when 
brought in contact with the most impressive real¬ 
ities, because, in the ordering of Gods 1 ru ' 
dence, the same favors invest both truth and de¬ 
ception, the things of time, and the things o. 
Eternity: and only the eyes that have ueen 
opened by His grave can see the immeasurab« 
difference between them. 
Temporal Blessings. —Wish for them cau¬ 
tiously— ask for them submissively— want 
contentedly—obtain them honestly—accept 
humbly—manage them prudently-employ Jem 
lawfully—impart them liberally—esteem 
moderately—increase them virtuously—u= e ‘ 
subserviently—forego them easily rent 11 
willingly. 
As the earth is but a point compared W) the 
heavens, so are earthly troubles compare 
The older a man grows the fonder he becomes 
of the dim distances of childhood and of light¬ 
hearted pleasure which he has left so far behind 
him. The words youth and beauty stir in his 
mind the old associations of the past, and call up 
within him springs of indistinct fondness. 
tion the impress of a mother's plastic hand 
All blessings are trials. They show what we 
are by the way in which we take them. 
