year, and needs in the beginning the best restraint 
you can possibly command. How many hearts, 
naturally noble, have become cold, haughty and re¬ 
pulsive in society, as they grew up, that might but 
for their pride have been an ornament and blessing. 
A fond mother spoke in the highest terms of her 
little daughter, which was indeed right; yet she 
praised her for something she did not possess. 
Said she;—“That child hasn’t a particle of pride. 
1 never saw one who cared so little for dress as she. 
It’s with the greatest difficulty I can get her to have 
her clothes fitted.” Truly the child was very reluc¬ 
tant about having her clothes fitted. She cried, and 
fretted, and assured her mother she didn’t like new 
clothes, yet she was the proudest child I ever met. 
She wanted rich and elegant clothes, but bated the 
trouble they caused her. Day after day she came to 
our room telliug us of her beautiful clothes, and, 
without her mother’s knowledge, brought them in 
with her, asking our praise. When 6he thought 
herself unobserved 6bc would get her little body 
into a great many positions before the mirror, to 
note the effect of her smiles, bows, speeches, &c. 
Pride was her pet, and we cannot believe her mother 
ignorant of this. Vet she could not see the disa¬ 
greeable tendency of it—her love blinded her to 
the little one’s faults. Mothers, let us study our 
little ones carefully, and becoming acquainted with 
their faults, tenderly, firmly correct them. Our 
children will be just what our moulding hands 
fashion them. We can guide them to our blessed 
Father, whose spirit is able to bring their will in 
sweet subjection to His. 
Canandaigua, Feb,, 1868. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
GRATITUDE. 
BY FITZ GREENE IIAU.ECK 
BY MARY J. CROSMAN, 
God bless little children! 
Day by day, 
Witb pure and simple wiles, 
And winning words and smiles, 
They creep iulo the heart, 
And who would wish to say them nay f 
They look up in onr faces, 
And their eyes 
Arc tender and are fair. 
As if still lingered there 
The Saviour's kindly smile! 
So very meek they look, and wise. 
We live again our play-time 
In their play: 
Their soil hands lead us back 
Along a weary track— 
The pathway of our years— 
Unto the time when life was May. 
O! when my days are ended, 
I would rest, 
Where little children keep 
Their slumber long and deep; 
My grave be near the little mounds 
1 know that God hath blest I 
True— many a rose-bud, blooming gay, 
Life’s opening path adorns; 
But all who tread that path will say. 
That ’mid the flowers which strew its way. 
Are caro's corroding thorns. 
Yet still the bosom will retain 
Affection ev'n for hours of pain; 
And we can smile though bathed in tears, 
At memory of departed years. 
’Tis distance our bewildered gaze 
On former scenes beguiles; 
And memory's charm the eye betrays, 
For white enjoyments it. displays, 
And robes the past In smiles, 
Its flattering min or proves untnie. 
Conceals the sorrow from our view. 
And hides the griefe, the doubts and fears, 
That darkened our departed years 1 
Time, when onr own, we oft despise— 
Whengone, its loss deplore; 
Nor till the fleeting moment flies 
Do mortals learn its worth to prize, 
When it returns no more. 
For this, an anxious look we cast, 
With fond regret, on hours long past— 
For this, the feeling heart reveres 
The memory of departed years t 
For quiet, peaceful days 
With love made bright,— 
For upward-tending ways 
That lead to light, 
I thank thee, oh my God 1 
For raiment, food, and health— 
Enough, I ween,— 
For neither want nor wealth, 
For Aoun’s mean, 
I thank thee, oh my God I 
For tender, tireless care 
Through all the years, 
For answering timid prayer, 
And quelling fears, 
I thank thee, oh my God ! 
The golden cup of life 
From which I qnaff, 
No drop of bitter strife 
Or Rnguish hath;— 
I thank thee, oh my God 1 
That my poor name be writ 
Within life’s book, 
Remove from death its grim 
And ghastly look: 
I thank thee, oh my God 1 
tropolis. I was one of the many, who lined the 
polished counters, looking with admiring eyes on 
the beautiful fabrics so temptingly displayed. The 
half-hour’s absence of the obliging clerk who could 
find the style required only in the distant part of 
the house, allowed me to be entertained with watch¬ 
ing the stream of Mr ones coining and departing. 
And while I waited and made mental criticism to 
amuse myself, an incident occurred a little out of 
the common observation of 6liop-visitors. A slight, 
small woman, pale, sad-eyed, and wearing faded 
black, came in with a new influx of visitors, walk¬ 
ing timidly and casting a half-frightened glance at 
the piles of pretty stuff. 
A bright, new material on the counter near where 
I stood caught her eye-; she tremblingly enquired 
the price; when she was told, my sharp eye saw a 
bill twisted in the quivering finger with a perplexed, 
troubled air, and my ears beard the murmur— 
“ Annie will need ten yards.” 
“Will you take it?” 
She lifted her pale, meek face, and answered: 
“ I cannot 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
STUDYING OUR CHILDREN.—No. I, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BE NOT WEARY IN WELL-DOING 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
“ SELF-MADE.” 
BY MRS. U. M. LINCOLN. 
Children are a most intricate study, in their 
various developments of character. Those wonder¬ 
ful leaves of humanity may be turned, and re-turned, 
daily, and each time we find some new and strange 
revelation. From the first fault tracery on the mar¬ 
gin page of babyhood we may begin to carefully 
decipher some new phase of being. We look into 
the wondering eyes, written full of mysterious les¬ 
sons; wc try to fathom their mcauing as they gaze 
with strange earnestness into our faces, and from 
thence into vacancy, first up, then down, and again 
scanning every object, yet revealing to us nothing 
of their thoughts. The little fists forever iu motion, 
06 if reaching after something unseen, yet never 
grasping it,—the strange language they breathe into 
maternal ears,— the smile that brings a touch of 
marvelous beauty over the waxen features, — the 
perfect trust they repose in us,—these aud a thou¬ 
sand more baby traits open t.o us volumes for the 
closest study. The first outburst of passion, when 
fist aud feet make known there are lessons to be 
demonstrated, and the first, indignant repulse we re¬ 
ceive when babyhood is abused, cause us to remem¬ 
ber we arc still unacquainted with our little ones. 
Men and women have toiled years to become 
thoroughly educated, and have reached the very 
heights of literary success, “D. D.” and “LL. D.” 
have been attached to their names, and 6ome of 
these, though parents, have declared their almost 
perfect ignorance of what their children were! Had 
they studied to thoroughly know them, theu 
they might have been wise indeed. Their perfect 
indifference to their children may have caused the 
shipwreck of more than one noble character. They 
have committed to the care of strangers what God 
committed to them, and lived and died unacquainted 
with their offspring. 
Children are given into their parent’s hands mere 
embryo. From the first day of their existence, we 
may begin the study of these new and wouderful 
editions of active life. From the first shrill cry of 
introduction, and the intimation of hunger, they 
may be made a discipline of thought. Aud what is 
there to hinder onr becoming thoroughly acquainted 
with them ? Pn feet indifference to their wants and 
welfare would be hindrance enough; so would a 
blind indulgence to all tbeir faults. We cannot 
help seeing the outbursts of passion when we op¬ 
pose a child, and yet we may not half learn the duty 
it enforces. In Borne children this is the first and 
prevailing passion, and the one that, if left un¬ 
curbed, may work their utter ruin. There is 
not the shadow of an apology for us to overlook 
this, and duty obligates us to check with firm, yet 
tender authority, what will injure our child. In 
some dispositions corporeal pnnishment. would only 
add fuel to flame; in others nothing else would bring 
to terms; for another a word of the unutterable 
It has been the theory of some scientific men that 
at the final judgment the record of onr lives will be 
found stamped upon the material creation. For, 
they argue, no atom of matter can he disturbed 
without producing a corresponding disturbance in 
every atom of matter contiguous to it; this influ¬ 
ence is again communicated to adjoining atoms, and 
so on indefinitely, ceasing only with the limits of 
time and space; and thus every word wc speak, 
every act wc perform, will be found written in legi¬ 
ble characters upon the broad page of the universe. 
However much of truth or error the theory may 
involve, it contains a thought which may well startle 
us. No act of our lives is lost. Its consequences may 
not be evident at once,—they may tarry many years, 
but, like the motion communicated to the atoms, 
there is an unseen influence at work, silently, slowly 
it may be, none the less surely. Iu the material 
world secondary causes sometimes intervene to 
modify or even to counteract the effect of the pri¬ 
mary ; but iu the moral world, there is no equilib¬ 
rium of forces. If our act be evil, we may not hope 
that its influence will, by any possibility, be entirely 
neutralized; if it be good we may, in spite of dis¬ 
couragements, rely with certainty upon its ultimate 
effects. Good or evil it cannot be entirely lost. 
It is because we forget this fact that we so often 
“ weary in well doing." Because we cannot see the 
immediate result of our efforts, we conclude that our 
labor has been in vain, and this conclusion serves as 
This impatience, 
simple matter to get married. He has first to make 
a formal request to his colonel for permission. He 
certifies to the condition in life and moral standing 
of the bride elect. The colonel sends the demand 
to the general commanding the department, who 
sends it to the general commanding the division. 
If the bride lives in another district, he writes to 
his fellow-officer of the division in which she does 
live. The demand then descends the scale from the 
division-general to the brigadier, who writes to a 
commandant do place, who consults a commissioner 
of police and a mayor; then the mayor and com¬ 
missioner reply to the commandant do place, who 
replies to the general of the division, who sends the 
answer to bis confrere. 
The demand then goes to a marshal, and if he 
docs not exact any further information, he proposes 
to the minister of w r ar to ratify the permission; 
coming from the hands of the postman, the packet 
is unsealed by a clerk, who adds a stamp, a sub¬ 
ordinate reads it, sends it to another clerk, who 
puts a number above the stamp and records the 
number on another sheet of paper, with an analysis 
of the affair; this sheet is then signed by a chief 
and sub-chief, then goes to a director, who sends it 
to the chief do bureau; lie gives it to his deputy, 
then an orderly clerk rcinscribes the number of the 
packet, registers it, and sends it to another, who 
makes a report of the analysis. The three mem- 
I did not think it would be so much.” 
She was turning away when a gentleman, who, 
like myself, had been looking and listening, drew 
near, asking of the clerk : 
“What does the lady want? I will wait upon 
her—you attend to the customers below.” 
The' respectful manner in which he was obeyed 
made me at ouc.e aware that he was the proprietor, 
and I was a little surprised at, what followed. 
“How many yards did you waut, madam ?” 
“ I can’t take it sir.” 
“I am not talking about that,” with a smile; 
“just, answer my question.” 
He cut off more than she falteringly mentioned; 
and while he was packing it she found voice to tell 
him that, ill-health had forced her to relinquish the | 
work with which she had obtained support for her 
Belf aud her two fatherless children. But the eldest 
girl, barely seventeen, was going to teach in a week, 
and she needed a dress to make her presentable. 
He made no reply, taking in silence the little bill 
she offfered—the very last of a small hoard—and 
from his own port tnonnaie added a greenback, the 
amount of which I could not see, slipped both be¬ 
tween the cord which bound the parcel, and handed 
the parcel to her with,— 
“ There, tell your daughter a stranger wishes her 
success.” 
He walked away hastily to avoid her tearful 
thanks, and the little woman looked, as she turned 
to depart, like one In a dream. It was a simple act, 
unobtrusively, quietly done; and uot a week before 
that same gentleman had been pronounced unchari¬ 
table, because his name would not he put down to 
swell the list for aid toward some missionary scheme. 
— Exchange. _ _ 
an excuse for future inactivity, 
this desire for immediate effects,.arises iu part from 
our constitution, and, iu part, from the lessous 
gathered by experience from the outer world. Er¬ 
roneous as the latter may often bo through our 
superficial observation, they certainly incline us to 
expect from every antecedent au immediate conse¬ 
quent. The more common and evident changes 
around us seem almost insensibly to lead us to this 
expectation. The eun sets,—it is night; the earth 
receives the dirccter rays of light and heat, and 
summer smiles upon the landscape; the seed falls 
into the ground, and presently the green blade 
comes forth rejoiciug in its new life; the frost falls, 
and the verdure withers and dies. Iu all these we 
see direct results, and if our observations be limited 
or superficial, we conclude that this law is univer¬ 
sal. But if we look more closely we shall find that 
even in the material world another law prevails. 
By silent, unseen influences, at work through long 
periods of time, does Nature accomplish important 
results. The rock whose towering cliffs defied the 
bolts of heaven, melts when exposed to the slow 
agency of frost and dew, of sunshine and storm, in¬ 
sensibly to the plain. A kernel of wheat, enclosed 
lu the coffin of an Egyptian mummy, would seem to 
sitiou—as regards achievement. Each iu a certain 
sense is self-made, and, in the most important re¬ 
spects, one as much as the other. 
We object then, to the use of the phrase “self- 
made,” according to the prevalent acceptation Of its 
meaning. If that meaning belies not tbe supposed 
class to which it is applied, it certainly belittles the 
rest of mankind. And it tends to keep alive the 
impression that schools and colleges are manufac¬ 
turing establishments , creating knowledge, and genius, 
Europe. Of course, there iB a tinge of malice iu 
everything the sprightly wife of the ex-Premier 
writes about prominent representatives of her sex. 
“ Queen Isabella, of Spain, wishes to make people 
believe that she is a paragon of benevolence. Her 
charities are distributed iu so ostentatious a manner 
that they lose much of their value. Ex Queen Mary, 
of Naples, who, under different circumstances, 
would have become a very excellent lady, does, as 
it is, almost only that which she ought uot to do. 
She smokes cigarettes, likes to wear top hoots and 
male attire, generally swears (Oorpa di Bacco ,) boxes 
the. cars of her servants, &c. The Empress Eugenie 
wishes us to believe that extreme vanity and extrav¬ 
agance far surpassing that of the poor Josephine are 
not incompatible with a piety so showy that few 
people will believe in insincerity. Shopping is her 
favorite occupation — that is, inspecting dry goods 
brought for her inspection to the Tuileries. The 
Empress of Austria is rather a dull woman, but a 
good wife and a good mother. The Empress of 
methods of thinking and working. Is this staling 
the case too strong? And should we not protest 
against inculcating possession without labor ren¬ 
dered therefor? 
God, in bestowing on us our various faculties, and 
the opportunities of using them, lias made us to 
differ widely, as the barren and the fertile regions of 
the earth differ, each from each. And the more fer¬ 
tile the soil, the more genial the climate, the more 
care and vigilance,—iu ft word Labor,—is needed to 
secure the proper return; or else, in the place of 
good aud precious fruits, weeds and thistles aud 
noisome reptiles shall assert their occupancy. 
“ Self-made!" We are all self-made. Self-made 
in the choice of good or evil,—in decided and manly 
purposes,—in all good aud great works of head and 
brain,—in the lofty destinies to which we may aspire 
that make man “ but a little lower than the angels” 
—a creature fit for “glory and honor.” Precept 
and example may indeed show ns the opening paths 
of Knowledge, Wisdom aud Virtue, and the gracious 
results that have rewarded those who have labored 
therein. But Time, and the great teachers, Thought 
and Experience, alone can give ue the power to act 
wisely and attain coveted rewards. 
Lum Woodruff. 
some. There are weak and not wholly indifferent 
men who like to be hen-pecked; hut, as a rule, the 
best husbands are drawn from tbe ranks of those 
who detest conjugal tyranuy. But the prudent wife 
will rule her husband—be he never so strong, never 
so self-willed — by the happy employment of the side 
wind judiciously set in motion. She weans him from 
this passion, directs him to that pursuit, controls 
the other failing, opens out new cares and new in¬ 
terests, until, like the sculptured virgin’s foot, worn 
away by the kisses of innumerable worshipers, the 
angularities aud nodosities disappear, though every 
application of the smoothing procega has hern as soft 
as each adorer’s kiss. The medal has its reverse, of 
course, and a fearful picture it presents of the side 
wind unwisely employed,—of the nagging, the 
taunts, the want of sympathy, the thousand and 
one forms of domestic, misery (none of them actual 
offenses, all of them nameless, indefinable acts of 
oppression, mere side winde of fatality,) which all 
alienate a man more and more from his home. But 
the former picture is the pleasanter and the more 
profitable to dwell upon. 
-^ .. » «. - 
CIVILITY IS A FORTUNE. 
Civility is a fortune itself, for a courteous man 
always succeeds well in life, and that when persons 
of ability sometimes fail. The famous Duke of 
Marlborough is a case in poiut. It was said of him 
by one contemporary, that his agreeable manners 
often converted an enemy into a friend; and by an¬ 
other, that it was more pleasing to be denied a favor 
l,y grace, than to receive one from any other 
man. The gracious manner of Charles James Fox 
preserved him from dislike, even at a time when he 
was, politically, the most unpopular man iu the 
kingdom. The world’s history is full of such ex¬ 
amples of success obtained by civility. The experi¬ 
ence of every man furnishes, if we recall the past, 
frequent instances where conciliatory manners have 
made the fortunes of physicians, lawyers, divines, 
politicians, merchants, and, indeed, individuals of 
all pumuits. To men, civility is what beauty is to 
women—it is a general passport to favor—a letter of 
introduction, written in language that every one 
understa nds. _ t ^ _ 
Good temi'KU is an inestimable blessing, both in 
the workshop aud out of it. If people thought more 
of Its value they would be at more pains to secure 
it. It was a flaying of tbe great Addison, we think, 
hundred a year. 
its life-principle tire guarded, and after ecu tunes oi 
seeming waste, it covers the field with a golden 
harvest. Nature, rightly understood, is a slow 
worker. Not suddenly, uot by a single stroke, 
does she accomplish her changes; “little fay little” 
is her rule,*and patiently, watchfully, she awaits 
the result. 
The principle so evident after a careful study of 
natural phenomena, also underlies our moral life. 
In the one case as in the other, it is the first glance, 
the surface inspection, that leads ns to look for im¬ 
mediate results. The misfortune of to-day appears 
to come suddenly upon us, but traced back to its 
real source it may be the result of a mis-step taken 
and forgotten years ago. The kind act, the word of 
warning, may seem to he forgotten with the- passing 
hour, hut years hence it shall appear that the cup of 
cold water was uot given in vain, and that the word 
was spoken in season. 
The work is with us, the result with God. If we 
perform well our part wc know that He is faithful 
and true, and our labor shall uot be lost. All the 
precepts of the Divine Word urge us to “ a patient 
continuance of well-doing,”—to a prompt and faith¬ 
ful performance of duty, coupled with an unwavering 
faith in God’ a ability and willingness to make our 
feeble efforts potent for good. The influence of a 
good deed He will not let die. It may not appear 
at once; to human wisdom it may seem to be de- 
to govern themselves. Their own passions may be 
far more unreasonable than those of their children. 
When we see u very angry person wc are inclined to 
think the parents let this one thing predominate to 
the exclusion of all others in that person’6 child¬ 
hood, and besides that they were strangers to the 
blessed influences of religiou. 
Some parents tliiuk that if they succeed in break¬ 
ing the child’s will, their life’s task is done. This 
is entirely wrong. “ Train up a child in the way 
he should go, aud when he is old he will not 
depart from it.” It’s the teaching—the training— 
the tempering of the will that tells, not the break¬ 
ing into servile submission. In every passion we 
may find a condensed volume of study. Every leaf 
of character we turn may cause us close application 
to determine the best, and safest way to fashion aud 
direct. In some children pride is almost the first 
tendency they manifest. The first, time they walk 
across the floor they look up with proud triumph. 
Every new garment is food for this passion, and 
soon the minutest article is placed before you for 
praise. All their actions and aims bespeak pride. 
A parent who can witness such disagreeable ten¬ 
dencies and not restrain them, must indeed be 
blind. Bride need not be mistaken for dignity. 
True dignity may be as plainly seen in very early 
life, as any other trait, and we believe would scorn 
even then boastfulness. A cautious parent would 
not seek to destroy pride entirely. A child would 
need enough to make it tidy and careful about its 
dress. But when the pride of your darling demands 
rich and elegant things to adorn aud cover soiled 
garments,—when they come near those poorly clad 
> and look upon such with scorn,—it is quite time 
this unpleasant feature were toued down. 
Barents are too thoughtless about these things in 
i their children. They cannot believe that pride in 
that very little girl will ever amount to anything 
serious. They fancy there will be plenty of time to 
I arrest this, after she is grown older. It is a false 
v trust. The pride will grow and strengthen every 
WOMEN IN THE PROFESSIONS, 
Ann Arbor, Mich., 1868. 
Medicine is perhaps the only profession in which 
women have assumed a perfect equality with men. 
Their charges are the same, and they have in general 
demanded all the privileges and rights of male prac¬ 
titioners. Up to the present time they have been 
remarkably successful. Many of them enjoy a large 
practice, Drs, Elizabeth and Emma Blackwell, Dr. 
Hay don and Dr. Lozier are among the first in this 
city, and have taken a high position as practitioners. 
Dr. Fowler of Orange has been very successful. In 
Philadelphia, six ladie6 who practice medicine have 
incomes ranging from $.‘2,000 to $10,000; $15,000 is 
the highest income of a female physician in New 
York. There are other women physicians of note in 
Boston, Utica, Rochester, Elmira, Ithaca and Mil 
waukee.— New Ycrrk Evening Post. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
A WORD FOR HUSBANDS. 
The Value of a Name. —The value of a name! 
Can it be estimated ? Is there any known standard 
in dollars and cents by which to graduate it ? Will 
it. come within any of the known laws of political 
economy? As well might a jnry assess the pecu¬ 
niary damage of taking away the life of another. 
When I reflect how dear the reputation of every 
man is to himself, I am amazed at the light use he 
will make of the reputation of another. Private 
slander is a large ingredient in the petty gossip of 
the day. Indeed, it often seems to form the very 
spice of conversation, which gives it all its flavor. 
“A good name,” says Solomon, “is rather to be 
chosen than great riches.” 
A house - doing minister makes a church-going 
people; as the people are sure to show the courtesy 
of returning the minister’s week-day visits by their 
Sabbath-day attendance.— Dr. Chalmers. 
that ft good temper is worth five 
The Christian workman kuows flow it is to be got. 
When not a natural gift, it must be planted and 
watered by God in the soil of a regenerated nature. 
