Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 
GOSSIP ABOUT AUTHORS 
COUNTING BABY’S TOES. 
Dear little bare feet. 
Dimpled and white, 
In your long night-gown 
Wrapped for the night, 
Como let me count all 
Your queer little toes, 
Pink as the heart 
Of a shell or a rose l 
One is a lady 
That sits in the sun; 
Two is ft baby, 
And three Is a nun; 
Four Is a lily 
With innocent breast; 
And live is a birdie 
Asleep on her nest. [Little Corporal. 
There is one phase common to our American 
life, witnessed in no other land. It is at the season 
of the gathering of fruits and grains, the ingather¬ 
ing also of Teachers. Io England, the same old 
dame or feeble man occupies the same chair, year 
after year, and from it dispenses the elements of 
knowledge; the form of the teacher is identified to 
each pupil with all it has yet known of life. Here 
how different! At seed-time thousands of our 
young, fresh from their own winter’s study, go out 
from their homes to dwell with strangers, to eat 
bread seasoned with homesickness, and to come up 
at this harvest time bringing their sheaves with them. 
To those who went forth with full belief in the 
beauty and nobility of their work, it has been a 
season fraught with lessons. Human nature is a 
science with no title page and no “Finis,” and its 
most honest exhibition is in a child. Fix your liue 
and rule aiul be just ready to proceed, and your 
whole effort, will be overthrown by the discovery of 
something entirely new in the character of the 
next. A true teacher must have but one heart, but 
a hundred faces. That heart must, be one in earn¬ 
estness, in love for its work, in love for the right, 
bat ever varying in its expression of these to suit 
the need of the papil. 
The first thing, then, to be accomplished is to be¬ 
come an adept in reading character. It is a mys¬ 
tery to many that the finest scholars are so often 
unsuccessful as teachers. But the surest way to a 
child's head is through its heart, and if that is not 
gained and understood, what can be expected of the 
other? Then, if you are in earnest yourself, ir you 
love study for its own sake, lot your pupils know 
it in every possible way. When the bell signals the 
close of duties for the day, if yon find an eye lin¬ 
gering wistfully over an uusolved problem, lay your 
weariness aside, find your place by the side of that 
toiler, and t.en to one that a group equally anxious 
will gather about you, hat or cap in hand, the ques¬ 
tion will be argued with far more enthusiasm than 
in school hours, a half hour of added work will be 
your rest, aud lit the class for better study on the 
morrow. 
Do yon mvite your pupils to labor by holding up 
an end? “How loug have you studied arithme¬ 
tic said a 6t,ranger teacher on assuming the charge 
of a school room. “Ever since 1 can remember,” 
was the reply. “Aud how much longer will you ^ 
continue it?” “ Why, always I suppose,” was the , 
discouraged rejoinder. How his face brightened , 
and with what new enthusiasm he took up his well j 
thummed book and was told to begin at Interest 
and not at Addit ion, as usual, and that one term of 
study would complete arithmetic and fit for a 
higher mathematical study. 
age, yet looking not oyer thirty-live. He is below 
middle height, straight and well built, nis hair is 
of a rich, glossy, curling auburn, long, parted over 
the center of the forehead, and without perceptible 
gray. The features have the regularity of an Apollo 
Belvidere; the forehead beautifnl — high, white, 
broad, and gently receding; the nose straight, thin, 
sensitive; the mouth, covered by a thick auburn 
mustache a shade lighter than the hair, full, and 
amiable in expression; and the chin round and fall, 
wherefrom extends a long beard. He has a true 
poet’s eye, large, dark-blue, gentle, aud fall of senti¬ 
ment. He is one of the most social and genial of 
men; easy of access, always bland aud courteous, 
quite devoid of any stiffness, foud of talking, and 
always talkiug charmingly, he entertains a stranger 
as handsomely as if he were an old acquaintance. 
A Correspondent of the New York mail, writing 
from Saratoga, recently, said of John G. Saxe:— 
“Saxe dresses carelessly, and has altogether the 
ugliest and the oldest straw hat in Saratoga. He is 
a poet, however.” Which is very true, —the first 
part, at any rate. And if disregard of personal ap- 
“ I always take care of “ Number One,” said one 
of a troop of boys at the end of a bridge, some 
wanting to go one way aud some another. 
“ That’s yov y out and out,” cried one of his com¬ 
panions. “ You don’t think or care about any one 
but yourself; you ought to be called Number One.” 
“If I did not take care of Number One, who 
would , I should like to know? ” cried he. 
True, Number One was right. He ought to take 
care of himself—good care. 
“ But docs not that emaek a little of selfishness?” 
the boys ask. “Number One thinks of nobody but 
himself.” 
Nobody but himself! that certainly is selfish, and 
therefore wrong. Yet Number One is committed to 
our own care. What sort of care is the all-impor¬ 
tant question. 
Take care of his habits. Make Number One indus¬ 
trious, persevering, self-denying, and frugal. Give 
him plenty of good, healthy work to do, teach him 
how best to do it, and keep him frmo lounging and 
all idle company. 
Take care of the Ups of Number One. Let truth 
dwell on them. Put a bridle in his mouth that no 
angry, backbiting tale shall come from it. Let no 
profane or impure word escape. Let the law of 
kindness rule his tongue, and alibis conversation 
be such as becomes a child of God. 
Take, care of the affections and feelings of Number 
One. Teach him to love God with all his heart, 
and his neighbor as himself; to care for others, and 
share With others ; to be lowly in mind, forgiving, 
gentle, sympathizing, willing to bear and forbear, 
easily entreated, doing good to all as he has oppor¬ 
tunity. 
This is the care to take of Number One, and a rich 
blessing will he prove to his home, and neighbor¬ 
hood, and himself! Boys! you all have Number 
One to take care of; and a responsible charge it is. 
—Stirling Tracts. 
Hiram Powers, the most eminent of American 
sculptors, was born in Woodstock, Vt., July 30, 
1805. In his youth, which was passed upon his 
father’s farm, he acquired the rudiments of a district 
school education, and also some knowledge of draw¬ 
ing, for which ho manifested ranch taste, Having 
migrated with his family to Ohio, he procured em¬ 
ployment in Cincinnati, in various situations. Be¬ 
coming acquainted, finally, with a German sculptor, 
he learned the art of modeling in plaster, and suc¬ 
ceeded in producing plaster busts of considerable 
merit. His taste for art thus fostered, he connected 
himself with a museum, at Cincinnati, and was for 
seven years mainly engaged in melding wax figures. 
But he aspired to higher tilings, and in 1835 fie 
repaired to Washington, where he modeled the 
busts of many distinguished men. In 1S37 he was 
Rome and elsewhere, he has since continued to re¬ 
side. His first work of a superior character was an 
ideal statue of Eve, which Thorwalsden said any 
sculptor might be proud to claim as his masterpiece, 
lliis was produced in 1838. A year later he finished 
the model of the celebrated “Greek Slave,” his 
most popular work, of which many copies in mar¬ 
ble are- now extant, beside innumerable numbers in 
plaster. Mr. Powers is the inventor of a process of 
modeling which obviates the necessity of taking a 
clay model of the subject, and greatly expedites the 
sculptor’s labors. He has also invented many labor- 
saving implements, which have quite revolutionized 
the old processes of sculpture. lie is a warm friend 
of all artists, and his studio is much visited by the 
young and ambitious ones, for whom he always has 
a kind word of encouragement, and whose efforts he 
materially aids. His hospitality and nobleness of 
nature are enthusiastically spoken of by all American 
visitors at Florence. 
No one likes to work 
forever with no goal in view, least of all a child. 
Wherever yon are teaching, for however short a 
time, let your first day be devoted to fitting a sys¬ 
tem for your room, and grading your classes to it. 
Let each know how much you expect, and the 
school gams a hundred per cent, in enthusiasm and 
interest. Groups will gather at every intermis¬ 
sion to compare notes and report progress. Give 
them, then, a kindly word of interest, and never 
fear but that you may lay claim, and justly, to be¬ 
ing a successful teacher. The old system of “ re¬ 
viewing" every term makes the pupil dread the 
advent of a new teacher, and the beginning of the 
school a play-time. If you do your work thorough¬ 
ly there is uo need of your successors doing it over 
again. 
This is only one hint, but so long as ambition is 
what it is, it must be the most important; for it 
teaches the mainspring of character and moves the 
whole. If you love your work, —the noblest and 
highest in all God's world,—nothing will be to vou 
Victor Hugo writes all his manuscripts with a 
very soft lead pencil, which he often forgets to 
sharpen, so that the letters assume a gigantic size, 
and eight or ten lines cover nearly a whole sheet of 
paper. Perhaps no other eminent contemporary 
author complies so conscientiously with the sensi- 
ble advice which Horace gives to poets and authors, 
Victor Hugo corrects his manuscripts again and 
again, until the work often undergoes a complete 
change, ° - 
I’m a year old, and I’ve got a name. I’m Jo; and 
Uncle Jo gave me a silver cup this morning, bat they 
won’t let me have it to bang on the table. Ganma 
would give it to me in a minute, and I think some 
day, when I catch her alone, I’ll get it yet. 
Cousin Lizzie is staying here. She is a nice girl, 
only she won't let me pull her hair. I think she 
might—such long, soft, yellow curls. She won’t let 
Uncle Jo touch a curl either. He jnst lifted one up 
the other day, and she drew it away and bent over 
her bead and kissed me ever so much, and Uncle Jo 
walked away. Oh ! I’ve got the prettiest mamma; 
her eyes shine so bright, I declare I am proud of her. 
I’ve had lots of toothache, and I’ve raised a few 
teeth; they don’t come out as Ganma’s do, though. 
My pretty mamma tells me to show my toofies, and 
then Ihave to grin for everybody. I bit Bob’s finger 
yesterday, but be did’t seem to mind it. 
Some of his most celebrated poems he re¬ 
wrote so often that his son, Charles, intends to 
publish, after his father’s death, an edition of the 
poems of Victor Hugo, with the stanzas which his 
father rejected. These stanzas, it is said, would 
form a volume of great beauty and value. Some¬ 
times Victor Hugo works very rapidly; thus, for 
instance, he completed the last part of “Les Mis- 
erables” in a week. The “ Toilers of the Sea” was 
written on the spur of the moment. 
Alexander Dumas still adheres to the mode of 
life he has led for forty years past. He goes to bed 
at four in the morning, and rises at noon. He 
breakfasts at one, lunches at five, eats a sumptuous 
dinner at eight, aud takes 6upper at midnight. He 
drinks very little wine, generally two or three 
glasses of Burgundy at dinner, and adds two or 
three spoonsful of cognac to his tea. He works 
nine hours a day, and generally famishes the print¬ 
er, daily, ten large sheets written in a beautirul 
flowing band, and almost entirely free from correc¬ 
tions and alteration. 
will not lecture much during the winter. He be¬ 
gan his literary career when residing in Indiana, by 
editing a Farmers’ Column io the Indianapolis State 
Journal, thereby ekiug out his slender salary as a 
preacher. His efforts in that line were so success¬ 
ful that the publishers started an agricultural paper 
aud made him its editor. 
new fisheries about the Shomnagin Islands of Alaska 
are in the summer season, there yet remains to be 
discovered the locality still farther uorth, probably 
north of Behring’s Straits, where they deposit their 
eggs, and where the true analogue to the Norwegian 
fisheries is to be developed. The total annual catch 
of codfish in the North Atlantic on both shores Is 
estimated at lifty-fonr millions. This seems a pro¬ 
digious number, and one that would soon threaten 
exhaustion of the species; but when we remember 
that nine million of eggs have been found in the roe 
of one female, there seems less danger of extinction 
than might at first bo supposed. 
NORTH ATLANTIC COD FISHERIES. 
I’ve got,short, clothes, and Cousin Lizzie is teach¬ 
ing me to dance. Uncle Jo helps her too. When I 
am through my lesson, she catches me up and kisses 
me, and then Uuele Jo kisses me too, right on the 
same spot. Isn’t that, queer ? Cousin Lizzie is going 
home soon; I’m sorry; so’s Uncle Jo. Iheardhim 
tell her bo, aud then she stooped to tie my sleeve 
ribbon, and grew very red in the face about it. 
That’s funny, too. 
I’ve got a little sister. She looks pretty well for 
a girl. I remember when I did not look any better. 
Cousin Lizzie has a new bright ring on her finger; 
I guess Uncle Jo gave it to her. She don’t scold 
any more when he pulls her curls now. 
Oh! ain’t L glad I’ve got a Ganma? for Cousin 
Lizzie forgets me now sometimes. But Ganma 
don’t forget—not. she; and she isn’t so taken up 
with this girl baby that she can’t remember a fellow 
who need to be No. 1. She says my nose is out of 
joint, but it don’t feel broken. 
from Wall Street and Broad. It is a marble building, 
of great elegance. The Gold Room, where the daily 
sales take place, is oue of the most brilliant rooms in 
the city. The vaults are models of security. They 
have in them two hundred and fifty safes, each secur¬ 
ed by independent locks, which have in them a 
million combinations, 
Each member of the Board of Brokers 
assigned to him. 
ures of the millionaires of New York, 
was organized in 17fi4, 
fee was fifty dollars. I 
No two locks are alike. 
has a safe 
In these vanltB repose the treas- 
The board 
At one time the entrance 
It is now three thousand dol¬ 
lars. A candidate is put on probation for ten days. 
His financial honor must be without a stain. Ap¬ 
plication must be made through some well-known 
member, aud the fact is made public. If no objec¬ 
tion is made, a ballot is had. Fourteen black balls 
defeat an election. The initiation fee is put high, 
that none but men of capital and honor may be 
admitted. The rules are extremely stringent. A 
violation is followed by summary ejection. Every 
contract is made on honor, aud must be kept to the 
letter, or the party is expelled, whoever he may be. 
For instance, a hundred shares of Erie are sold at 
the board by one broker to another. The seller 
delivers the stock, and takes in payment the check 
of the buyer. The cheek is known to be worthless. 
The buyer cannot pay till he has delivered the stock 
to the customer who ordered it. But the check will 
be made good before three o’clock. Millions of 
stock pass dailv fmm An A Viqnil 
i homas hood died composing, and that, too, a 
humorous poem, He is said to have remarked that 
he was dying out of charity to the undertaker, who 
wished to urn a lively Hood. 
\ iCTOKiKN Sahdon, now famous, says he wrote 
eighty articles, plays, poems, &c., before he could 
get a publisher, and during the first two years did 
not get a sou for literary work. 
George Gatlin, who was famous thirty years ago 
as a painter of Indian portraits, and whose Gallery of 
portraitures then attracted attention both at home 
and abroad, is now residing at Brussels, and passing 
his old age in proverty, 
Anna Dickinson, who has succeeded so well as 
a lecturer, (or should we make it as feminine as we 
can, and call it lecturess ?) has been tryinf,'her hand 
at a novel. It is entitled “ What Answer,” and will 
be published soon by Ticknor A Fields. 
Montreal succeeds in accomplishing what has 
universally been considered impossible; the publish 
iug of a successful religious daily newspaper. It la 
the Daily Witness, is sold for a penny, and has 
several editions, is managed with tact and ability, 
aud claims to have a circulation nearly equal to that 
of all the other English papers inthateity combined 
“Once upon a time,” as stories were generally 
begun in my childhood days, there lived two sisters 
in the town of T-1. They loved each other 
dearly, as sisters aud brothers should always do. 
As they were playing one evening on the pavement 
before their father’s door, the little one, whom we 
will call “ Biowu-eyes,” threw a pebble, which, un¬ 
fortunately, bit the elder Bister, whom we will call 
“ Blue-eyes. ” Several gentlemen standing near, 
seeing the accident, expected to hear a loud scream 
and angry voice saying, “You ugly thing; I’ll just 
tell mother! You did it a-purpose—I know you 
did—you mean, ugly thing,” and bo on, as angry 
children will talk. 
But these gentlemen heard nothing of the kind. For 
a moment little Blue-eyes stood, ready to cry,—for 
to be hit by a pebble hurts. As I said, Bine-eyes 
stood for a moment looking at poor, dismayed 
Brown-eyes, then sfie van to her, threw her arifie 
round her, aud said, “Don’t cry, little sister; l 
know you didn’t mean to hit me. Kiss me, dear ” 
and the sisters kissed and embraced each other 
fondly. The gentlemen who saw the little ones 
told their father of it, adding, “ We never saw any¬ 
thing like that before.” Alas! and is sisterly and 
visiting schools. —Now that “the new teach¬ 
er ” has taken his place in the school-room, it is the 
duty of parents to manifest some further interest 
in his work than merely to send their children 
thither. He wants their co-operation. If they talk 
with him freely about his scholars, at their homes, 
it is well; if they visit the school-room occasionally, 
and seem interested with him in making a pleasant 
thing of learning, it is much better. Tbe presence 
of father or mother at the child's recitation, oDeea 
week, or once a mouth, will have a salutary inll n- 
ence on both teacher and child. Even the parent 
will be benefited. His or her attention wili h* 
There i6 nothing which so surely takes all the 
heart and strength and nobleness of character ouV 
of a ms i as the habit of doing from morning ti)i 
night, and from day to day, jnst what he likes, and 
only because he likes it. The young can glean a 
useful lesson from this. 
When a man fails to have even fortune, does he 
have odd luck? 
WmtffiW 
