MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER; AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL 
SPLENDID PREMIUMS! 
Worth Contending for by FoeMIfasters, Agents 
and Subscribers! 
to neglect the lad and liis mother, under the 
present circumstances.” 
I felt rebuked at these words; and, with 
a forced effort, said—“ I will go.” 
“ It will be much better for you to see 
them than for me,” returned my husband, 
“ for you can understand their wants better, 
and minister to them more effectually. If 
they need any comforts, I would like you 
to see them supplied.” 
It still cost me an effort to get ready, but 
as I had promised to do as my husband wish¬ 
ed, the effort was to be made. By the time 
I was prepared to go out I felt something 
better. The exertion I was required to 
make tended to disperse slightly the clouds 
that hung over me, and as they began grad¬ 
ually to move, my thoughts turned with an 
awakening interest, toward the object of my 
husband’s solicitude. 
All was silent within the humble abode 
to which my errand led me. I knocked 
lightly, and in a few moments the mother 
of Edward opened the door. She looked 
pale and anxious. 
“ How is your son, Mrs. Ellis,” I enquir¬ 
ed, as-1 stept in.” 
'' He is very low, ma’am,” she replied. 
“ Not dangerous, I hope ? ” 
^he fever has left him, but he is weak 
as an infant All his strength is gone.” 
“ But proper nourishment will restore 
him if the disease is broken.” 
“ So the doctor says. But I’m afraid it 
is too late. He seems to be sinking every 
hour. Will you walk up and see him, 
ma’am ? ” 
I followed Mrs. Ellis up stairs, and into 
the chamber where the sick boy lay. I 
was not surprised at the fears she had ex¬ 
pressed, when I saw Edward’s pale, sunken 
face, and hollow, almost expressionless eyes. 
He scarcely noticed my entrance. 
“ Poor boy! ” sighed his mother, “ he has 
had a very sick spell.” My liveliest inter¬ 
est was at once awakened. 
“ He has been sick indeed! ” I replied, as 
I laid my hand upon his white forehead.— 
I found that his skin was cold and damp.— 
The fever had nearly burned out the vital 
energies of his system. “ Do you give him 
much nourishment ? ” 
“ He takes a little barley water.” 
“ Has not the doctor ordered wine ? ” 
“ Yes, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Ellis, but she 
spoke with an air of hesitation. “ He says 
a spoonful of good wme, three or four times 
a day, would be very good for him.” 
“ And you have not given him* any ? ” 
“No, ma’am.” 
“ We have some very pure wine that we 
always keep for sickness. If you will step 
over to our house and tell Alice to give you 
a bottle of it, I will stay with Edward until 
you return.” 
How brightly glowed that poor woman’s j 
face, as my words fell upon her ears! 1 
“ Oh! ma’am, you are very kind! ” said 
she. “ But it will be asking too much of 
you to stay here! ” { 
“ You (ud’nt ask it, Mrs. Ellis,” I smiling-1 
ly replied. “I have offered to stay; so do 
you go for the wine as quickly as you can, 
for Edward needs it very much.” 
I was not required to say more; in a few 
minutes I was alone with the sick boy, who 
lay almost as still as if death were resting 
upon his half-closed eye-lids. To some ex¬ 
tent, in the half hour I remained thus in 
that hushed chamber, did I realize the con¬ 
dition and feelings of the poor mother whose 
only son lay gasping at the very door of 
death, and all my sympathies were, in conse¬ 
quence, awakened. 
As soon as Mrs. Ellis returned with the 
wine, about a teaspoonful of it was diluted, 
and the glass containing it placed to the sick 
lad’s lips. The moment its flavor touched 
his palate, a thrill seemed to pass through 
his frame and he swallowed eagerly. •• 
“ It does him good 1 ” said I speaking 
warmly, and from an impulse of pleasure 
that made my heart glow. 
We sat and looked with silent interest 
upon the boy’s face, and did not look in 
vain, for somethmg like warmth came upon 
his wan cheeks, and when I put my hand 
again upon his forehead, the coldness and 
dampness was gone. The wine had quick¬ 
ened his languid pulse. I staid an hour 
longer, and then another teaspoonful of the 
generous wine was'given. Its effect was as 
marked as at first, I then withdrew from 
the humble home of the widow and her 
only child, promising to see them again in 
the morning. 
When I regained the sfreet, and my 
thoughts for a moment reverted to myself, 
how did I find all changed. The clouds 
had dispersed—the^heavy hand raised from 
my bosom. I walked with a freer step.— 
Sympathy for others and active efforts to do 
others good had expelled the evil spirits 
from my heart; and now serene peace had 
there again a quiet habitation. There was 
light in every part of my dwelling when I 
re-entered it, and I sung cheerfully, as I 
prepared with my own hands, a basket of 
provisions for the poor widow. 
When my husband returned in the eve¬ 
ning he found me at work cheerfully, in my 
family, and all bright and smiling again.— 
The effort to do good to others had driven 
away the darkness from my spirit, and the 
sunshine was again upon my countenance, 
and reflected upon every member of my 
household.— L^y*s Wreath. 
“ Look to the end, nor stand to doubt, 
Nothing so hard but search will find it out. 
LINES 
Ilf order to augment the circulation and useful- 
neae of Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, and re¬ 
munerate its friends for their efforts in its behalf, 
the Publisher offers ( in addition to the large per 
centage allowed to agents who form clubs,) the 
subjoined very liberal Prizes — payable in Cash, 
Books and Implements, 
BT A. GUI WITS, 
lying ill with the bilious fever. The attack 
was severe, and he believed death was near. 
One moniing he awoke from a short sleep 
to hear a hurried and smothered conversa¬ 
tion in the adjoining room, in which his wife 
took part The first words that Clark caught 
were uttered by his better half— 
“On that ground,” said she, “I object to 
mourning!” 
“Yes,” replied another, “but the world 
looks for it — it is fa.shionable, and one 
might as well be out of the world as to be 
out of the fashion.” 
“ Here,” thought Clark, “is a nice Avife,— 
She thinks I am about to die—to be plant¬ 
ed, if I may use the expression, in the cold 
earth, and yet she refuses to go into mourn¬ 
ing for me. Ah me!” 
“Now that I am here, perhaps I had bet¬ 
ter take your measure.” 
“The unfeeling wretch!” exclaimed Clark, 
“to think of sending for a dress-maker be¬ 
fore I am dead! I’ll live in spite!” 
“Well,” mused the wife, “I believe you 
may measure me, I will let you buy the 
trimmings, and let it be as gay as possible,” 
“What heartlessness!” groaned Clark, 
“Woman-like though. One husband is no 
sooner dead than they set about entrapping 
another, I can scarcely credit it.” 
“ Of course you will have a flounce,” 
“Two of them, as the body is to be plain, 
I wish you to get the wide gimp to trim it” 
“How will you have the sleeves trim¬ 
med?” 
“With buttons and fringe.” 
“Well—well — this beats all,” sighed 
poor Clark, 
“ When do you want tlie dress ?” inquir¬ 
ed the mantua maker. 
“I must have it in three days. My hus¬ 
band will then be off my hands, and I shall 
be able to go out!” 
“0! horrible—horrible,” ejaculated the 
sick man. “ I am only half dead, and this 
blow will kill me.” 
His wife heard him speak, and flew quick¬ 
ly to his bedside. 
“Did you speak, my dear,” said she, with 
a voice like an angel. 
“I have heard it all, madame,” replied 
Clark. 
“ The mourning—gay—dresses— fringe 
—everythmg. 0! Susan—Susan! ” 
“You have?” 
“Do you take me for a fool?” 
“Certainly not, my dear.” 
“You expect me out of the way in three 
days.” 
“Yes, love, the doctor said you would be 
well in that time.” 
“What means the dress?” 
“It is the one you bought for me before 
you were taken sick.” 
“But you were speaking of mourning?” 
“We were talking of Mrs. Taperly.” 
“Oh, that is it?” 
“Yes, love, you know she is poor, and the 
family is large, and it must inconvenience 
her to find mourning for them all. On this 
ground I oppose it” 
“So—so that’s it, is it ? I thought you 
were speakuig of me, and it distressed me. 
Let me beg of you to be more careful in 
future.” 
Clark was out in three days, and he now 
laughs at the matter which then appeared 
so hoirible. 
Aj a rose-ta’ee sweetly shedding 
Odor on the air. 
Till its leaflets, earthward fallen, 
Waste and wither there; 
So is Life forever breathing 
Strongest faith and trust, 
Till its honors, like the blossom. 
Mingle with the dust. 
As a river, seaward gliding, 
Seeks the ocean’s breast. 
There to sweetly blend its waters 
In a Cl Imer rest; 
So is Life forever tending 
Onward to its close, 
When the mortal of its being 
Shall in dust repose. 
As a cloudlet gently floating. 
Wreathed in vesper li^t, 
Tending upward till its splendor 
Fades upon the sight; 
So the spirit, calmly passing 
From the earth away. 
Wreathed in robes of light, immortal, 
Seeks the reamls of day. 
Mr. Editor :— I see by your paper that you so¬ 
licit contributions to your “ Youth’s Comer.” I 
liave an Enigma that I have not seen published in 
any paper, and perhaps it may be new and interest¬ 
ing to some of the numerous readers of your valua¬ 
ble journal ; 
There is now in this place a Prophet, whose gen¬ 
eration was before Adam ; he was with Noah in the 
Ark, and with Christ just before he was crucified. 
He knew not his father, and was never nursed by 
his mother; he goes barefoot like a friar; he wears 
no hat, and his coat is not dyed, spun, knit nor 
woven; it is neither silk, hair, linen, or wool, yet 
of very fine texture and glossy. lie walks boldly 
in the face of his enemies, without gun, sword or 
stick; yet such a weapon as man never had he has 
to defend himself with from his foes. He is often 
abused by wicked men for their diversion, but takes 
it patiently. He lets all men enjoy their religion; 
the Protestants are his greatest enemies, but the 
Papists occasionally use him mercifully. At a cer¬ 
tain time his voice is heard by all nations; he de¬ 
clares the day of the Lord is at hand; as he prophe¬ 
cies, the doors fly open, and his sajings are found to 
be true. He takes but little rest, and is admired by 
all for his vigilance. He does not sleep on a bed, 
or in a chair, but is always standing, or crouched; 
neither does he put off his clothes. As to his re¬ 
ligion he is supposed to incline to the Papists, ns he 
always keeps Lent. His nature does not incline 
him to eat meat, and he drinks nothing stronger 
than water. Though some times apparently proud, 
he cares not for the pomp and vanities of this world. 
He denies no article of the Christian faith. His 
voice is shrill and piercing, and he never preached 
but one sermon in his life, which was so convincing 
to a man of sin, that it drew tears from his eyes, 
and he was not easy until he repented. He is nei¬ 
ther the Wandering Jew, the son of Noah, an old 
Levite, nor St. John, as some may suppose. 
Now who is he? n. D. s. 
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Address D. D. T. MOORE, \ 
March 28, 1850. Rochester, N. Y. / 
A CURB FOR LOW SPIRITS. 
A HOUSEHOLD SKETCH. 
From some cause, real or imaginary, I 
felt low spirited. There was a cloud upon 
my feelings, and I could not smile as usual, 
nor speak in a tone of cheerfulness. As a 
natural result, the light of my countenance 
being gone, all things around me were in 
shadow. My husband was sober and had 
little to say; the children would look strange 
at me when I answered their questions, or 
spoke to them for any purpose, and my do¬ 
mestics moved about in a quiet manner, and 
when they addressed me, did so in a tone 
more subdued than usual. 
This re-action upon my state only made 
darker the clouds that veiled my spirit I 
was conscious of this, and was sensible that 
the original cause of my depression was en¬ 
tirely inadequate, in itself, to produce the 
result which had followed. Under this 
feeling, I made an effort to rally myself, but 
in vain; and sank lower from the very 
struggle to rise above the gloom that over¬ 
shadowed me. 
When my husband came home at dinner 
time, I tried to meet him with a smile; but 
I felt that the light upon my countenance 
was feeble and of brief duration. He look¬ 
ed at me earnestly, and, in his kind and gen¬ 
tle way, enquired if I felt no better, affect¬ 
ing to believe that my ailment was one of 
the body instead of the noind. But I scarce¬ 
ly answered him, and I could see that he 
felt hurt How much more wretched did 
I become at this. Could I have then re¬ 
tired to my chamber, and alone, give my full 
heart vent in a passion of tears, I might have 
obtained relief to my feelmgs. But I could 
not do this. 
While I sat at the table, foremg a little 
food into my mouth for appearance sake, ray 
husband said: 
“You remember tlie fine lad who has 
been for some time in our store ?” 
I nodded my head, but the question did 
not awake in my mind the slightest interest 
“ He has not made his appearance for 
several days; and I learned this morning 
on sending to the house of his mother that 
he was very ill.” 
“ Ah! ” was my indifferent response.— 
Had I spoken what was in my mind, I would 
have said, “ I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.” 
1 did not, at the moment, feel the smallest 
interest in the lad. 
“Yes,” added my husband, “ and the per¬ 
son who called to let me know about it, ex¬ 
pressed his fears that Edward would not get 
up agam,” 
“What ails him?” I enquired. 
“I did not clearly understand; but he 
has fever of some kind. You remember 
his mother very well ? ” 
“ Oh, yes. You know she has worked 
for me. Edward is her only child I be¬ 
lieve.” 
“ Yes. And his lo.s8 to her will be al¬ 
most everything.” 
“Is he so dangerous?” I enquired,a 
feeling of interest beginning to stir in my 
heart 
“ He is not expected to live.” 
“ Poor woman! How distressed she myst 
be! I wonder what her circumstances are 
just at this time. She seemed very poor 
when she worked for me.” 
“ And she is very poor still, I doubt not 
She has herself been sick, and during the 
time it is probable that Edward’s wages 
were all her income. I am afraid she has 
suffered, and that she has not now the 
means of procuring for her sick boy things 
necessary for his comfort. Could you not 
go around there this afternoon, and see bow 
they are?” 
I shook my head, instantly, at this propo¬ 
sition, for sympathy for others was not yet 
strong enough to ^spel my selfish despon¬ 
dency of mind. 
“ Then I must step around,” replied my 
husband, “ before I go back to the store, al¬ 
though we are very busy to-day, and I am 
much wanted there. It would not be right 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
REBUS, 
Five letters do my magic name compose, 
Which any one may seriously dispose; 
My first one by itself, as I’m alive. 
Will count two hundred times the entire five; 
My second is no less a standing wonder. 
It counts just no thing by itself or under; 
My third’s a paradox, you may depend. 
It’s just the middle of a midge tail’s end; 
My fourth is one-third of an ox's eye — 
Some times you’ll find it in a pumpkin pie; 
My fiftli you’ll see in any cloudy day. 
In yonder sky resplendent gay. 
My whole’s the talisman that rules mankind. 
If you can’t guess me now, you must be blind. 
Bj” Answ’er in two weeks. 
A New Book for every Fa’’mer. j 
S CIENTIFIC AGRICU^:.TURE, or the Elements ( 
of Chemistry, Geology, Botany, and Meteorol- ( 
ogy, applied to practiced Agriculture; by M. M. ^ 
Rodgers, M. D., with the approval and assistanoe ^ 
of several practical and scientific gentlemen. The ( 
work is illustrated by a large number of engravings, \ 
and is published in a neat style, well bound, and ^ 
sold cheap. ( 
NOTICES OF the WORK. ( 
“ The general correctness, brevity, clearness, ( 
r\1 Au <^rvv\1isvnKf A VMM) ^ 
ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS, &c., IN NO. 16. 
multitude of its principles applicable to practical 
agriculture, that first best of arts, commend the work 
to the youth of our land, as well as to the older and 
younger amculturists.”— Professor Chester Dewey, 
Prindpal Rochester Collegiate Institute, 
“ This is an interesting and much needed volume, 
well adapted to the wants and taste of that intelli¬ 
gent portion of the community for whom it is more 
particularly adapted — making combined a complete 
system of agriculture, easily understood and readily 
defined.” — N. Y, Farmer and Mechanic, 
“It appears to be exceedingly well adapted for 
the purpose of instruction. It is concise and plain 
— neither too much nor too little.” — Hon. Zadock 
Pratt. 
“ We have seen enough to convince us that it is 
a work of rare merit, such an one as will meet with 
the appro^tion of all intelligent readers. Every 
agriculturist w ho reads and digests should procure 
the work.”— American Farmer, Baltimore. 
“ We commend the work to the Farmer, especial¬ 
ly to the young farmer, as well worthy of his atten¬ 
tion.”— Berkshire Culturist, Pittsfield, Mass. 
“We think the author has ably performed the 
difficult task of rendering science easy to the practi¬ 
cal-Iknner.”— New England Farmer, by S. IV. Cole. 
ERASTUS DARROW, 
Publisher and Bookseller, comer Main and St. Paul 
streets, Rochester. 
For sale by the Publisher; also, at the office 
of Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, and by the Book¬ 
sellers generally. 
,,\Darrow has a large stock of BOOKS at 
wholesale or retail. Orders promptly answered. 
SURE AND SAFE REMEDIES FOR FITS. 
For a Fit of Passion. —Walk out in the 
open air; you may speak your mind to the 
winds without hurting any one, or proclaim¬ 
ing yourself to be a simpleton. 
For a Fit of Idleness. —Qowni the tick¬ 
ings of a clock. Do this for one hour, and 
you will be glad to pull off your coat the 
next, and work like a negro. 
For a Fit of Extravagance and Folly .— 
Go to the workhouse, or speak with the rag¬ 
ged and wretched inmates of a jail, and you 
will be convinced. 
Who makes his bed of brier and thorn 
JIust be content to lie forlorn. 
For a Fit of Anibition. — Qo into the 
church-yard and read the grave stones; they 
will tell you the end of ambition. The grave 
will soon be your bedchamber, earth your 
pillow, corruption your father, and the worm 
your mother and sister. 
For a Fit of Repining. —Look about for 
the halt and blind, and visit the bedridden 
and afflicted, and deranged; and they will 
make you ashamed of complaining of your 
lighter afflictions. 
For a Fit of Despondency. —Look at the 
good things which God has given you in 
this world, and at those which he has prom¬ 
ised his followers in the next He who goes 
into his garden to look for cobwebs and 
spiders no doubt will find them; while he 
who looks for a flower may return into his 
j house with one blooming in his bosom. 
The Poser Posed. —In a jolly company 
each one was to ask a question; if it was 
answered, he paid a forfeit; or if he could 
not answer it himself, he paid a forfeit— 
Pat’s question was, “ How the little groimd 
squirrel digs his hole without showing any 
dirt about the entrance ?” When they all 
gave it up, Pat said, “ Sure, do you see, he 
begins at the other end of the hole.” One 
of the rest exclaimed, “ But how does he 
get there ?” “ Ah,” said Pat, “ that’s your 
question—can you answer it yourself?” 
Somebody has strung together the names 
of several of our national legislators, as fol¬ 
lows—A caught a Sturgeon yjxth 
a Cable ; two Hunters killed a Badger, and 
having been cooked by a Baker till it was 
“ done” Brown, a Mann rung the Bell and 
seven Kings sat down to dine with a Savage 
and an Outlaw, while a Chandler held the 
%ht-__ 
The following reply to that everlasting 
inquiry, “How do you do?” was made by 
an original the other day: “ Rather slim, 
thank’e; I’ve got the rheumatism in one leg, 
and a white swellin’ on t’other knee, besides 
having a leetle touch of the dysentery, and 
I ain’t very well myself neither.” 
We heard a stoiy the other night of two 
persons engaged in a duel. After the first 
fire one of the seconds proposed that they 
should shake hands and make itp. The 
other second said he saw no pkrticular ne¬ 
cessity for that, for their hands had been 
shaking every since they began! 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
published every THURSDAY, AT RorHESTKR, BY 
D. D. T. MOORE, Proprieter. 
Publication Office in Bums’ Block, [No. 1, 2d floor,] 
comer .State and Buffalo streets. 
Two Dollars a Y'ear — $1 for six months. To 
Clubs and Agents as follows: —Four Copies for $7; 
fifeven Copies for $12; Ten Copies for $15. All 
moneys received by mail will be acknowledged m 
the paper, and receipts sent whenever desired. 
Post-Masters, Clergymen, 'Teachers, Officers and 
Members of Agricultural .Societies, and other influ¬ 
ential persons, of all professions — friends of Mental 
and Moral as well as of Agricultural Improvement— 
are respectfully solicited to obtain and forward sub¬ 
scriptions to the New-Yorker. 
(O’Subscription money, properly enclosed, may 
be sent by mail at our risk. 
We live in a “fast” age. Every thing 
goes upon the liigh-pressure system. Trees 
don’t grow any faster than they formerly ^d; 
but boys spring quicker into men,and girls into 
women. Every body is in a hurry-—eveiy 
thing is transacted in double-quick time.— 
Books, schools, journeys, raifroads, nomina¬ 
tions, administrations, are got up against 
time. The wheel of life is rolling every¬ 
where witli accelerated velocity, and “ fes- 
tina lente ” is obsolete :— 
Well, push ahead, my jokers all. 
And still keep pushing on, 
And ever bear in mind the rule 
Of “ Go it while you’re young;” 
Aim always for the tallest grass. 
And go the highest ticket, 
For you can’t “regerlate” the times, 
No how that you can fix it. 
Wonderful Cure. —The Belfost, Me., 
Journal tells of an old lady who was always 
troubled with the asthma during the prev¬ 
alence of east winds. “After consulting 
physicians tvithout success,” her husband 
nailed the weathercock with its head to the 
west, and she hasn’t been troubled with the 
disorder since. 
TERMS OF ADVERTISING; 
A limited number of appropriate advertisements 
will be inserted in the New-Yorker, at the rate of 
50 cents per square (twel ve lines or less,) for the first 
insertion, and 25 cents for each subsequent publica¬ 
tion. Casual ad vertismente to be paid for in advance. 
Advertisements not accompanied with special direc¬ 
tions, will — at the option of the Publisher,— be in¬ 
serted until forbid, and charged accordingly. 
(O’ Notices relative to Meetings, &c. of Agricul¬ 
tural, Horticultural, .Mechanical and Educational 
.4ssociation8, published gratuitously. 
Publishing Agents, 
WHO WII.I. RECEIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, AND FURNISH COPIES 
OP THE RURAL NEW-XORHER: 
ELON COMSTOCK, Home, N. Y. 
Mr. C. is also general agent for Oneida County. 
T. S. HAWKS, Buflhlo. 
W. L. PALMER, Syracuse, N. Y, 
1. R. TREMBLY, Dansville, 
[O’ -Vlso Agent for Naples and Homellsville. 
E. HOPKINS, Lyons, N. Y. 
Why is a certain piece of music like a cow : 
Ans .—Because it is an over chewer (over- 
iiu'e.) 
STEAM PRESS OF A. STRONG 00. 
