by bappy chances to work oat the reward of 
virtue. The patient endurance of pnrity and in¬ 
tegrity may indeed be portrayed; but it is not 
through them that final happiness is attained, 
nor in them that interest and excitement center. 
They would be as well out of the story as in it— 
it is not on them that its issues hang. What 
wonder, then, if the dreaming boy or girl fan¬ 
cies similar fortunes and like happy accidents to 
himself, without the patient suffering or heroic 
doing that may make him worthy of them ? If 
the deserving heroes are invariably left in a 
Paradise of wealth and outward luxury as their 
reward, can we wonder that the impressible 
reader learns to look on these as the greatest 
good of life ? 
The fiction whose interest turns on the 
tying and solution of the knots of accident 
and circumstance is the first which awakens 
our interest, hut it is the product of in¬ 
genuity rather than of genius, and Its power to 
interest passes away, on the acquirement of nicer 
tastes. The finer art of novel-writing is that 
in which the interest depends on the working 
out of character, the strong and subtle threads 
of influence, the invisible links which join one 
destiny to others by virtue of soui-quallties, the 
deeds and the results which arc the logical out¬ 
working of the moral and intellectual traits of 
the actors. Such works, read and felt, arc the 
true education of the imagination; but the taste 
must first be trained to appreciate them. This 
cannot be done hv simply presenting and secur¬ 
ing the reading of them. They will he seised 
on only for the sake of plot and incident; and 
the high idcal6 of character and the finer lines of 
thought will he overlooked. The taste must 
first be trained by works in which more depends 
on the style of thought and expression and there 
is no interest of mystery and story to share the 
attention. If this is done, all trashy and flashy 
novels, will, of themselves, fall from the hands, 
and the higher ideals of character and life will 
beadmlredfor their own nobleness and imitated 
in the genuine love of truth and beauty. 
Walnut Hills, O., Feb., 1867. E. M. J. 
Written Tor Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LIFE STORMS, 
Written for Moore's Bnral New-Yorker 
MATRIMONIAL COGITATIONS. 
When I contemplate the soc ial future of the 
young men of the farming community, my heart 
is saddened with anxious forebodings. Many of 
them have accnmultited considerable property, 
have arrived at a marriageable age, ami in the 
opinion of all the old ladles of their vicinity, 
ought to “ get married and settle down;" but still 
they procrastinate, and In the arduous prosecu¬ 
tion of their labors seek to divert their minds 
entirely from the subject. Although they are 
invariably prompt in accompanying young ladies 
to singing school, plc-nlcs, sleigh rides, and the 
\'arious entertainments of the country, and kind, 
considerate and interesting in tlieirconversation 
and attentions, still the undisguised pleasure 
experienced by their fair companions is misera¬ 
bly marred by the sorrowful conviction that 
“nothing serious is intended.'’ 
My youug lady friend, denizen of the country, 
who is responsible for this unnatural state of 
affairs ? Pardon the insinuation, but 1 candidly 
think that much of the blame rests ou your 
own pretty shoulders. With burdensome sor¬ 
row and regret I daily witness the gradual en¬ 
croachments of city notions and ideas upon the 
wholesome customs and habit s of the country; 
and the “country girls ” arc among the first to 
yield to these pernicious influences. They de¬ 
mand more “style," aud manifest u dislike for 
home duties which every visit to the city, and 
every improved opportunity for having a “good 
talk ” with their city associates, only serves to 
strengthen. Mothers, iu many cases, are repre¬ 
hensible, in that, forgetting the sensible precept 
and practical discipline administered to them in 
in youth, they encourage their daughters in the 
manifestation of fashionable aud literally idle 
whims; so that, instead of performing house¬ 
hold duties with pleasure, they seem to consider 
them beneath their notice, and nothing perturbs 
them more than to be “caught" doing house¬ 
work. This fastidious squearaishnesB often cre¬ 
ates considerable excitement iu the household. 
For instance, Jane, while per force mopping 
fho floor, spies through the window a young man 
for v. hom she entertains at least a friendly feeling 
coining through the gate. The mop is instantly 
abandoned; and, leaving mother to rid her hands 
of the dough and welcome the visitor, Jane 
rushes up stairs to change her dress and “fix 
up." The young man must be entertained; 
and mother “ visit®” to the best of her ability, 
frequently casting hurried, anxious glances first 
toward the bread pan on the kitchen table, and 
then at the stair-door, her uneasiness increasing 
as she reflects that the fate of the week’s baking 
trembles in the balance. The visitor notices her 
abstraction, mistrusts the cause, and returns 
Theke are storms on life’s dark waters, 
Hope's frail barks are tempest-tossed. 
And oft our fondly cherished dreams 
‘Neath its angTy waves are lost; 
But we’ll trust the Heaveniy pilot 
To find a haven blest, 
“Where the wicked cease from troubling 
And the weary are at. rest.” 
When tempests gather round us, 
And the star of Hope grows dim. 
When the storm-cloud lowers darkly, 
Let us put. our trust in Him; 
He can guide us t.o a resting place 
For bleeding hearts distressed, 
“Where the wicked cease from troubling 
And the weary arc at rest. 
Though the burden of our sorrow 
Groweth heavier, day by day, 
And though alone we bear it, 
Let us still keep on our wav; 
Even though the path be thorny, 
And wo by trials pressed, 
Let us hope to gain a respite 
“ Whens the weary are at rest.” 
Honeoye Falls, March, 1867. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
CHILDHOOD. 
“As the twig bends, so the tree inclines. " 
The world rolls on, humanity rolls on, every¬ 
thing rolls on, ou forever. 0 man, thou art 
immortal! This wc know, although the world 
is shaded o’er with mystery, although wc see as 
through a gloss darkly now, yet we do know 
that man Is, to-day and forever. The question 
is, with us of the present age, as it should have 
been with those that were from Adam, and 
ought to be with those that shall march down 
the foot-path of time to the Millenium — Is 
there enough done for childhood? When wc 
review the world’s history, when we look out 
upon it as it stands to-day, we are forcibly im¬ 
pressed to ask, do we work earnestly, work as 
Christians around the family altar, in the day 
school, in the Sabbath school, in the closet of 
prayer for childhood ? True, we have schools, 
and, although wc have not Germany's school 
laws, although we are proud of American insti¬ 
tutions and American literature, yet there are 
men all around us who cannot read one letter 
ont of the twenty-six, who will make a mark for 
their name every time, and will come up to the 
election poll and vote for a draught of poiBon. 
Again, a large majority of the young ladies of 
the. present day receive too fashionable an educa¬ 
tion and if they were to he asked who was the 
first king of Israel, or how Demosthenes, Cice¬ 
ro, Pomtky and Anton v came to their death, or 
who CONFUert s was, they would answer, “ I 
never heard ol' these men." But ask them what 
the fashions arc to he for the coming month, and 
they will tell you. Very well, who is to blame 
for these misguided minds? Wo have Sabbath 
schools, noble institutions, where a few who be¬ 
long to the church of Christ are laboring for 
childhood, for humanity, for God. Suppose it 
were possible for those few to sacrifice a little 
time, a little labor, and meet one tight daring 
the week as teachers, as heads of the Sabbath 
school to “ Buy the truth, got wisdom, instruc¬ 
tion and understanding,” that they may be better 
prepared when they come before the youthful 
mind to teach the truth, impart wisdom, instruc¬ 
tion and understanding. 
As a teacher, there is a great responsibility 
resting upon you. The molding and fashioning 
of the child’s intellect is as much withiu your 
powei as in that of the parents; and the im¬ 
pressions that you make upou these young 
minds do not fall upon stony ground. No, your 
good works will live in them, will go down to 
the grave with them, will go up to the judgment 
scat with them, will go on, on forever. There¬ 
fore if wc sacrifice a little time and labor, re¬ 
member that we are not only sacrificing to 
childhood, not only sacrificing to humanity, but 
to God. Libbie. 
Geddes, Feb., 1867. 
BY AUGUSTUS COMSTOCK. 
“ You're tired out with work," she sighs 
“ You lead a weary life.” 
“No, no,” quoth he, “’tis Paradise, 
With such a little wife.” 
The gleeful Ore with ardent rays 
Peeps slyly from the hearth, 
The tea-pot blushes in the blaze, 
The kettle shakes with mirth. 
The sleek “grimalkin” purs and mews, 
The dog whines at the door, 
The pattering of little shoes 
Is heard along the floor. 
About the smith his children play 
When evening's meal is through, 
They lovo to see his pipe of clay 
Send forth 11s clouds of blue. 
They clamber on his shoulders broad, 
They clamber on his knee, 
While wifi! looks on with Bmlie and nod; 
Aud all are fhll of glee. 
I’d sooner be this blacksmith bold, 
With such a little wife. 
Than have the wealth of yellow gold 
That rHlds an aimless life, 
She has a figure trim aud neat, 
And full of health and life, 
With nimble hands aDd nimble feet, 
The blacksmith's little wife. 
ncr hair is dark, her eyes are bine, 
And though her cheek is browned, 
An anchorite would smile to view 
A face so smooth and round. 
All day she labors like the bee, 
The blacksmith's little wife, 
While round her play her children three, 
Bright-haired and full of life. 
And all day long, her cheery song 
Comes through the cottage door. 
While tap, lap, lap, her gaiters rap 
The neatly Handed floor. 
Her swarthy husband, from the town. 
Comes home when day is dim ; 
For kisses he must stoop ’way down. 
Or she climb up to him. 
lie’s just the man that women crave 
To shield them from “the wrong,” 
For lie’s as kind as he Is brave, 
And brave ns he U strong. 
APHORISMS AMENDED 
There are many persons who cannot speak in 
sensible, common-place terms—they arc always 
on stilts, and aim to carve out their language in 
blank verse. Instead of saying, for example, 
“ He acknov’lcdges the corn," they would render 
it about thus: 
He doth by troth, with most, ingenious humor, 
Confess th’ impeachment common fame hath bruited, 
That with it carries conviction of the maize. 
While on the subject, we will enumerate a few 
other trite sayings, accompanied with renderings 
after the manner of those dignified bores: 
It's a long lane tluit ha* no turn."— 
The way that deviates nor right nor left, 
But onward leads through space interminable, 
May be, by fair construction, deemed of length 
Somewhat respectable. 
“ The longest pole knock* down the persimmons"— 
It is an axiom well received. I ween, 
That, of the slender scions of the forest, 
The one which in a longitudinal sense 
Eclipses the pretensions of its fellows, 
May oscillate, until their foil. 
The staple fruit of Carolina State. 
“A Jim? stand for a grocery"— 
A most commodious site, 
Where all the multitudinous fruits of earth, 
That nourish and regale the inner mail, 
Are held to barter. 
“ Old boss. I'll see you in Use fall"— 
When ’neatb a canopy of golden leaves, 
’Mid all the purple glorios of the state, 
Summer, in fragrance, breathed her life away, 
And sober autumn is enthroned instead, 
I’ll meet fhee, antiquated steed. 
TO CONTRIBUTORS 
Such spelling as “flew” and “phisilion” is inex* 
cusable. “ Floribelie,” L. I. D. Your plot is cer¬ 
tainly exciting, hut neither natural nor consistent. 
The act which tin- heroine was ODly by au accident 
prevented from committing would have been mon¬ 
strous. Is it customary for young ladies in long 
dresscsto sit ou their fathers’knees and recount their 
atfaim de caur/ -“My Winter at Uncle John’s." 
M. M. You have not drawn your characters with any 
distinctness, and have introduced no description; the 
interest therefore must depend on the plot, which 
under those circumstances is too simple.-“What 
he Need n't, and what he Must be.” T. F. Metre« 
badly mixed.-—-“Problems,” B. F. B. Too long. 
“ Woman's Rights,” C. T. L. If you will think of the 
tone of your closing paragraphs, you will see why we 
cannot publish the article. Other accepted.-“ A 
Dream,” A. Prettily rhymed, hut the meaning is 
incomprehensible. Allegory is the most dangerous 
of all rhetorical figures.-“Mysteries Explained," 
B, F. B. Not well versified. The discoveries of 
Capt. M’Clintock spoil your allusions to Sir John 
Franklin.-“The Old Year," G. M. K. Out of date. 
-“Homesickness,” Z. X. You read Nasby too 
much, or study your grammar too little. 
that truth left, with the soul wilt surely triumph* 
that, however unpromising the soil, seed-time 
and harvest are inseparably connected, il’ it be 
real truth that is sown. 
But when w*e leave the didactic and direct, and 
puss from the education of reason into the more 
dimly-defined, but not less real field of the im¬ 
agination, «ur notious of the influence of idea 
and impression become, vague and beclouded. 
Yet none the less should these subtle influences 
of association and fancy, of whose workings the 
individual himself may be unconscious, be laid 
hold of and trained to aid in making this our 
common life more worthy to blend with the 
ideal into which we enter with unsandaled feet 
when most the spiritual and the distant seem to 
draw near and close around us. 
It is not an indiscriminate prohibition of all 
fiction that is needed; the imagination will play 
along untroveled paths; nor is it desirable, even 
if it were possible, to keep it down to occur¬ 
rence and fact. Neither is it wise, in choosing 
for others, even if it were practicable, to dis¬ 
criminate between Lhose which truly represent 
character aud life, and those which are entirely 
devoid of probability and naturalness. We can¬ 
not always stand over the half-formed mind with 
recommendation and prohibition. We must in 
A BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE TO A WIFE. 
I was guided iu my choice only by the blind 
affections of my youth. I found an intelligent 
companion and a tender friend, a prudent moni- 
tress, the most faithful of wives, and a mother 
as tender as children ever had the misfortune to 
lose. I met a woman who, by tender manage¬ 
ment of my weaknesses, gradually corrected the 
most pernicious of them. She became prudent 
froul affection, nftd though of the most, generous 
nature, she was taught frugality and economy 
by her love of me During the most critical 
period of my life, she relieved me. She gently 
reclaimed me from dissipation ; she propped my 
weak and irresolute nature; she urged my indo- 
lonee to all the exertions that have been useful 
aud creditable to me, and she was always at hand 
to admonish my hccdlessness or improvidence. 
To her I owe whatever I am ; to her whatever I 
shall be. In her solicitude for my interest she 
never for a moment forgot my feeling or charac¬ 
ter. Even in her occasional resentment, t’orwhich 
1 too often gave her cause, (I would to God I could 
recall those moments!) she hadnosullemiess or 
acrimony. Her feelings were warm, nay impet- 
nous; but she was placable, tender and constant. 
Such was she whom I have lost, when her excel¬ 
lent, natural seuse was rapidly improving, after 
eight years’ struggle and distress had hound ua 
fast together, and molded our tempers to each 
other; when a knowledge of her worth had 
refined my youthful love into friendship, and 
before age had deprived it of much of its origi¬ 
nal ardor. I lost her, alas! the choice of my 
youth, the partner of my misfortuuee, at a 
moment, when I had the jirospcct of her sharing 
my better days.—Sir fames Macintosh. 
WIT AND WISDOM 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HAPPINESS. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
NOVEL READING AND WRITING, 
Happiness is not local, and more depends up¬ 
on that which is within than upon that which is 
without. A man mav be miserable in the company 
of those who are exceedingly happy. If an evil 
spirit could escape from the pit and stand beside 
the glorified in Heaven, lie would still be miser¬ 
able, for there would be no application of the 
A bad man 
principle of truth and goodness, 
who had done much to corrupt his neighbors 
found himself nnhappy and resolved to reform 
and move to a good neigborhood and live amidst 
a virtuous people. He did move and found his 
neighbors happy and content, hut the demon 
who had troubled him before still ruled Ms 
heart, and he found no peace. Water puts out 
fire if applied. The Crystal Palace in New York 
stood in a park close beside the great reservoir 
of water, yet it availed not, for it was burned. 
Se a ship at sea burns as fiercely as a cottage 
on the land. Thus it is with the soul of man — 
a full redemption has been purchased, and the 
Saviour is now ready to save all who come. The 
remedy must he applied—we must put ou the 
righteousness of Christ or we shall still be un¬ 
clothed and we must accept the 6alvatiou pro¬ 
vided, or we shall perish. It avails not that 
Christ knocks at the door of our hearts, we must 
open to him if we would have life. 
Syracuse, Feb., 1867. Fitch. 
A pretty girl, in a teasing mood, asked a 
gentleman if he possessed the picture of the 
oue whom he loved; and on his replying “ Y’es,” 
begged he would show it to her. He immedi¬ 
ately took a small mirror from his pocket and 
presented it to her. 
Rosseau saysMen will argue more forcibly 
about the humau heart, but woman will read 
the heart much better. Women have most wit; 
men the most genius. Women observe; men 
reason. The world is the hook of woman. 
Have courage to obey your Maker at the risk 
of being ridiculed by man. 
