MOOEE^S EUEAL NEW-YOEKEE! AN AGEICULTUEAL AND FAMILY JOUENAL 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt 
Nothing’s so hard, but sear&b will find it out. 
ANDRIS. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
THOSE FEIENDS OF OTHER DAYS. 
BY eso. B. LEO HARO. 
In happy days, now long since gone, 
Mid scenes far, far away, 
1 had two loved and cherished friends, 
Dear comrades in youth's day. 
O happy then and thoughtless loo, 
We roved thro’ youth’s green bowers, 
Unpress’d by cares which harrow 
The heart in manhood’s hours. 
Nor ever shall their youtliful hearts 
Be crushed mid friendless crowds. 
When leaving those dear hours of youth, 
Life’s sunbeams change for clouds. 
No, never shall they know the grief 
Which comes in after years, 
And never feel the sorrow 
Of him who sheds these tears. 
We parted in the flush of youth, 
Alas, to meet no more — 
They both are gone, forever gone. 
From scenes on this bleak shore. 
Ah, littld^hought wc on that day. 
That we should part for aye. 
But those we love the dearest, 
Do e’re the soonest die. 
One lies upon a distant isle. 
Far in the Indian sea. 
And strange bright flowers bloom o’er his grave, 
By nature planted free. 
Deep in the sea’s the other tomb, 
Lit by the sea gems’ rays — 
And I am left regretting 
Those friends of other days. 
Clarkson, June, 1850. 
lifernrij anb Mmtllmma. 
COURTSHIP AND HONEY-MOON. 
BY JOSEPH WILSON. 
This is love—faithful love 
Such as saints might feel above. 
If we were constantly to bear in mind in 
our passage through life, that ’tis “trifles 
makes the sura of human things,” how 
much of the misery into which many of us 
now heedlessly plunge, might be entirely 
avoided. Unhappily there are but few in 
the married state who, in their reminiscen¬ 
ces, are enabled to look back upon the un¬ 
broken chain of bliss so beautifully depict¬ 
ed in the lines above quoted; and the only 
reason that we can imagine why it is not 
oftener realized, is (next to the natural per¬ 
verseness of pur race) the want of proper 
attention to the thousand little occurrences 
and unpleasant passages, confessedly trifling 
in themselves, wliich, in the aggregate, 
“ make up in number what they want in 
weight” 
It is not, however, our intention, even 
were we equal to the task, to digress into a 
dissertation upon the various ills which af¬ 
flict liumanity, or the probable causes Yvhich 
produce them; but merely to present the 
reader with a brief sketch, which will per¬ 
haps serve, in some respect, to illustrate, as 
well the ease with which the seeds of un¬ 
happiness may be uncautiously strown in 
the hearts of those who love us, as also 
what may be considered the infant or in¬ 
cipient state of that bright existence, warm¬ 
ed by that “ sacred flame,” which can only 
qualify us 
“To love in wint’ry age tlie same 
As first in youth we lov’d.” 
A festival was given by a young married 
lady—one of a numerous circle of acquaint- 
aices—on the return of her birthday, which 
was likewise the first anniversary of her 
young friends, the greater part of whom 
had kneeled at the hymenial altar at about 
the same time with herself, and were pres¬ 
ent to enliven the occasion. Mr. and Ma- 
dana Mayland, (for such shall be the name of 
the host and hostess,) presented a most felici¬ 
tous union, and were noted for their tender 
regard for each other, which partook more of 
the romantic fondness which characterises 
the young and the hopeful lover, than of 
what is usually observable in the staid re¬ 
alities of married life, of even less than a 
year’s standing. Happy within themselves, 
they neglected no opportunity to adminis¬ 
ter to the joy and comfort of their friends 
whom they gathered about them, and pos¬ 
sessing the most agreeable and winning 
manners, it was rarely that their efforts to 
please were unsuccessful. 
With such beings to entertain, it is easi¬ 
ly imagined that their visitors at such times 
would be under very little restraint in pur¬ 
suing the pleasures of the hour, and re¬ 
straint in such cases, as all know, is a great 
bar to enjoyment 
The conversations were animated, and 
for a time were participated in by all.— 
Glowing with Avarmtb and animation, after 
a number of topics had been exhausted, 
the ever prolific theme of matrim my was 
brought upon the tapis. This in some re¬ 
spects, was perhaps peculiarly appropriate 
to the exigence of the occasion; but unfor¬ 
tunately it was sufiered to take a turn, the 
only result of which, if left unchecked, 
would be likely in time to grow into an un¬ 
conquerable evil. 
This untimely interi'uption of the gene¬ 
ral harmony which marked their intercourse 
a few moments previous, was caused by 
some of the young husbands present who 
were disposed to treat the subject in a most 
disagreeable light, by inveighing against 
matrimony, and by ridiculing that condition 
and its vaunted pleasures, when compared 
with their former “ single blessedness.”— 
Some of the coarser-minded among them 
went so far— and this in the presence of 
their wives — as to discourse eloquently up¬ 
on the bright fields for various achievements 
which they might enter, if they were un¬ 
married! 
“ I would travel,” said one. 
“ I too,” said another. “ I would explore 
the old world, and feast upon its curiosities 
and wonders, ere I became a settled man.” 
“ I would enter the lists of Fame at 
home,” said a third. “ I would not yield to 
the blind impulses of Cupid until I had 
reached the highest seat in the Council of 
State.” 
“ My choice,” said a fourth, “ were I per¬ 
mitted to recommence my career, should 
be the navy, instead of a wife.” 
“ And mine the army.” 
Thus they proceeded through the length¬ 
ened category; but, alas! none said they 
would endeavor to make themselves and 
their wives contented and happy in their 
then present condition. All they did say, 
though apparently without any evil or ma¬ 
licious intent, broadly enough implied that 
their wives were burthens which kept them 
from rising. 
But there are some things too exalted to 
be assailed with the trifling jest; and there 
are hearts whose chords are too exquisitely 
sensitive to resist the withering influence of 
the imperious sneer, when coming from 
those they love, be the motive what it will. 
It was evident that the -words which fell 
from the lips of some of the party, descend¬ 
ed like drops of molten lava upon the hearts 
of their young and trusting wives, render¬ 
ing them incapable of continuing their par¬ 
ticipation in the evening’s enjoyments.— 
This, though readily noticed by others, and 
particularly by Mr. and Mrs. Mayland, was 
entirely overlooked or unheeded by those 
who were the cause of it. 
Painful indeed was the results to all but 
such as were its active promoters. Mr. 
Mayland, who had withdrawn his voice, 
and who was sitting a silent spectator of 
what was going forward during this part of 
the conversation, was justly indignant at the 
excesses of his guests, and longed for an 
opportunity not only to change the tenor of 
their unbecoming observations, but to ad¬ 
minister at the same time, without involving 
a breach of hospitality, some suitable and 
effectual rebuke. They, however, contin¬ 
ued their bitter remarks; and at length, no¬ 
ticing Mr. Mayland’s silence, one of them 
approached, and tapping him upon the 
shoulder said: 
“ Well, Mayland, here you sit as quiet as 
a mouse. What do you think of the mat¬ 
ter—the advantages and disadvantages ?—* 
We should like to have your opinion!— 
What would you do if you were not mar¬ 
ried ? ” 
Mayland’s sweetheart wife was sitting a 
little distance from 'him when this question 
was propounded. She had been highly 
delighted that her dear husband had ab- 
stiuned from the reckless flow of words 
which had been passing—but now, seeing 
that he was directly appealed to, her heart 
leaped, and she riveted her eyes upon him 
with mingled emotions of hope and fear.— 
It was not, at that moment, a matter of 
much difficulty to read her countenance. — 
It seemed to ask—“ And am f to be com¬ 
promised by my husband, as my friends 
have been by theirs ? ” But her suspense 
was of short duration. 
“What would I do?’’slowly repeated 
the lover husband; and then turning to 
meet the glance of his wife, he continued 
—“I would go immediately in search of 
Miss- , (repeating her maiden name,) 
offer to her my heart and hand, be blessed 
by receiving hers in return, and get married 
as soon as possible.” 
This unexpected reply, so deliberately and 
firmly expressed, had the effect to produce 
instant silence. The satirical portion of the 
young gentlemen understood and apprecia¬ 
ted its fine force. They were suddenly abash¬ 
ed. It was a contrast with their own conduct 
too striking not to have its own weight The 
young wife who was the subject of it, was 
so deeply affected—so filled with gratitude, 
that she had been spared the infliction of a 
pain she so fervently deprecated—that she 
sprang from her seat and fell upon his neck, 
and with a tear of joy glistening in her eye, 
said in a subdued tone: 
“ My beloved husband, that answer is in 
consonance with what to me you have ever 
been. Would that I were more worthy of 
your most devout affection.” 
“ More worthy, my 'dear wife,” he an¬ 
swered, “ you cannot be. You are to me a 
jewel of inestimable worth. Deprived of 
you, life would be to me but one unrelieved 
blank,” 
He then impressed upon her forehead an 
impassioned kiss, and seated her gently be¬ 
side him. 
But the scene did not end here. The 
voices of those who a few moments before 
were loudest in vain prattle, were now hush¬ 
ed in silence—and that silence needed to 
be broken by some spirit that could sug¬ 
gest a different and more agreeable pastime 
than that in which they had just been in¬ 
dulging, but which none now seemed dis¬ 
posed to renew. At this crisis, a married 
sister of the husband who had so suddenly 
changed the order of things, which she 
viewed with much satisfaction, noticed like¬ 
wise the kiss, and for the purpose of put¬ 
ting an end to the awkward intermission, 
playfully asked, directing attention to her 
brother, 
“ Are you not ashamed to be courting 
her before all the company ? ” 
“ The company,” he returned with an air 
of triumph which he could not well repress, 
“ will please excuse us; we did not com¬ 
mence our regular courtship until after 
marriage, and it is not yet ended! We 
trust that it may continue through the 
whole course of our natural lives, and that 
we may spend our honey-moon in Heaven!” 
This was enough. The scene was indeed 
changed. The offending gentlemen be¬ 
came fully convinced of the pernicious ten¬ 
dency of their conduct—frankly acknowl¬ 
edged their error—apologized to their wives 
—kissed them all round, and soon retired 
in perfect good humor, all well pleaded with 
the lesson they had learned, and which was 
perhaps [the means of saving them from 
many after years of discontent, alienation 
and misery. 
A happier company than that party 
when they again assembled, were never 
met together! And this assurance, kind 
reader, is all the moral that need be written. 
WELCH SAYINGS. 
Three things that never become rusty 
— the money of the benevolent, the shoes 
of the butcher’s horse, and a woman’s 
tongue. Three things not easily done—to 
allay thu’st with fire, to dry wet with water, 
to please all in every thing that is done. — 
Three things that are as good as the best— 
brown bread in famine, well water in thirst, 
and a grey coat in cold. Three things as 
good as their better—dirty water to extin¬ 
guish the fire, an ugly wife to a blind man, 
and a wooden sword to a coward. Three 
warnings from the grave—thou knowest 
what I was, thou seest what I am, remem¬ 
ber what thou art to be. Three things of 
short continuance—a lady’s love, a chip fire, 
and a brook’s flood. Three things that 
ought never to be from home—the cat, the 
chimney, and'the housewife. The essen¬ 
tials to a false story-teller—a good memory, 
a bold face, and fools for an audience.— 
Three things seen in the peacock—the garb 
of an angel, the walk of a thief, and the 
voice of the devil. Three things it is un¬ 
wise to boast of—the flavor of thy ale, the 
beauty of thy wife, and the contents of thy 
purse. Three miseries of a man’s house— 
a smoky chimney, a dripping roof, and a 
scolding wife. 
GOOD MAXIMS. 
1. The world estimates men by their 
success in life, and by general consent, is 
evidence of superiority. 
2. Never, under any circumstances, as¬ 
sume a responsibility you can avoid con¬ 
sistently with your duty to yourself and 
others. 
3. Base all your actions upon a principle 
of right; preserve your integrity of character 
and, in doing this, never reckon the cost. 
4. Remember that self-interest is more 
likely to warp your judgment than all other 
circumstances combined; therefore look well 
to your duty when your interest is concerned. 
5. Never make money at the expense of 
your reputation. 
6. Be neither lavish nor niggardly; of 
the two avoid the latter. A mean man is 
universally despised; but public favor is a 
stepping-stone to preferment — therefore 
generous feelings should be cultivated. 
7. Let your expense be such as to leave 
a balance in your pocket Ready money is 
a friend in need. 
8. Keep clear of the law; for, when you 
gain your case, you are generally a loser of 
money. 
9. Never relate your misfortunes, and 
never grieve over what you cannot prevent 
10. No man who owes as much as he can 
pay, has any moral right to endorse for an¬ 
other.— Hunt's Magazine. 
The Wife’s Commandments.— A late 
Cincinnatti paper gives the following as a 
correct version, for the use of all doubting 
husbands. Listen— 
1. Thou shalt have no other wife but me. 
2. Thou shalt not take into thy house 
any beautiful brazen image for a servant 
girl, to bow down to her, for I am a jealous 
wife, visiting, &c. 
3. Thou shalt not take the name of thy 
wife in vain. 
4. Remember thy wife to keep her re¬ 
spectable. 
5. Honor thy wife’s father and mother. 
6. Thou shalt not fret. 
V. Thou shalt not find fault with thy dinner. 
8. Thou shalt not chew tobacco, or take 
snuff. 
9. Thou shalt not stay out nights after 
9 o’clock. 
10. Thou shalt not praise the beauty of 
another woman in thy wife’s presence. 
What a wretched world is this, which 
three or four good or great men can reform 
or shake to its foundation! 
A CALCULATING BRIDEGROOM. 
I’ve known some very mean men in my 
time. There was Dea. Overreach; now, he 
was so mean he always carried his lien in 
his gig box when he traveled, to pick up 
the oats his horse wasted in the manger, 
and lay an egg for his breakfast in the morn¬ 
ing. And then there was Hugo Himmel- 
man, who made his wife dig potatoes to pay 
for the marriage license. I must tell you 
that story of Hugo, for it’s not a bad one; 
and good stories like potatoes, ain’t as plenty 
as they used to be when I was a boy:— 
Hugo is a neighbor of mine, though con¬ 
siderably older than I be, and a mean neigh¬ 
bor he is too. Well, when he was going to 
get married to Gretchen Kolp, he goes 
down to Parson Rogers, at Digby, to get a 
license. 
“ Parson,” says he, “ what’s the price of 
a license ?” 
“ Six dollars,” says he. 
“Six dollars!” says Hugo, “that’s a 
dreadful sight of money ! Couldn’t you 
take no less ?” 
“No,” says he. “That’s what they cost 
me to the Secretary’s office at Halifax.” 
“Well, how much do you ax for publish¬ 
ing in church, then ?” 
“ Nothing,” says the parson. 
“ Well,” says Hugo, “ that’s cheap I can’t 
expect you to give no change back. I think 
I’ll be published; how long does it take ?” 
“Three Sundays.” 
“Three Sundays!” says Hugo. “Well, 
that’s a long time, too. But three Sundays 
only makes a fortnight, after all ; two for 
the covers and one for the inside like; and 
six dollars is a great sum of money for a 
poor man to throw away. I must wffit.” 
So off he went a-jogging towards home, 
and looking about as mean as a new-sbear- 
ed sheep—when all at once a bright thought 
came into bis head, and back he went, as 
hard as his horse could .carry him. 
“Parson,” says he, “I’v'e changed my 
mind. Here’s the six dollars. I’ll tie the 
knot to-night with my tongue that I can’t 
undo with my teeth.” 
“ Why, what in natur is the meaning of 
all this ?” says the parson. 
“ Why,” says Hugo, “ I’ve been cipher¬ 
ing it out in my head, and it’s cheaper than 
publishing bans, after all. You see, sir, it’s 
a potato-digging time; if I wait to be call¬ 
ed in church, her father will have her work 
for nothing ; and, as hands are scarce, and 
Avages high, if I many her to-night she can 
begin to dig our own to-morrow, and that 
will pay for the license, and just seven shil¬ 
lings over; for there ain’t a man in all Cle¬ 
ments that can dig and carry as many bush¬ 
els in ct day as. Gretchen can. And besid- 
fresh wives, like fresh serA'ants, work like 
smoke at first, but they get sarcy and lazy 
after a Avhile.” —Life in a Colony. 
Measure for Measure. — A traveler 
once related, with all seriousness, to a com¬ 
pany of persons, that he had passed through 
the five divisions of the earth; and that, 
among other curiosities, he had met one of 
which no Avriter had as yet made mention. 
This wonder Avas, according to his account, 
a huge cabbage, which had grown so broad 
and high that fifty armed riders might have 
stationed themselves under a single leaf and 
performed their maneuvers. Some one who 
heard him, deeming this exaggeration not 
Avorthy any confutation, said, with much 
self-command anJ coolness, that he, too, had 
been abroad, as far as Japan, where, to his 
astonishment he saw more than 300 cop¬ 
per smiths work upon a single kettle, and 
within the same were five hundred men 
polishing it “What could they do with 
such a monstrous kettle ?” asked the trav¬ 
eler. “To cook the cabbage therein of 
which you just now told us!” 
Raising an “ Ebenezer.” —Speaking of 
names, a corporal, in one of the regiments 
in Mexico, Avhen the roll was being called 
by the captain, refused to answer to the. 
name of “ Ebenezer Mead.” The other 
repeated the call. No answer. “ Is Ebe¬ 
nezer Mead on tl^ ground ?” said the indig¬ 
nant official. 
“ Eben Mead is here,” quoth the corporal. 
“ Why don’t you answer, you rascal ? — 
Ebenezer Mead!” 
“ My name is simply Eben Mead.” 
The “ Ebenezer” was repeated again in a 
tone like a small nor’-wester. 
“ Captain,” quoth the rampant corporal, 
“you call me Ebenezer. Your name is 
Peter Read ; would you respond if you 
were called Petersneezer Read ?” 
He was taken to the guard-liouse, tried 
for contempt, and deprived of his waiTant 
Fever Cured. — A gentleman hearing of 
the death of another — “I thought,” said 
he, to a person in company, “ you told me 
that -’s fever was gone off ?” “ Oh, 
yes,” replied the latter, “ I did so, but for¬ 
got to mention that he was gone off along 
with it” 
“ I’ve heard it’s impossible to eat tui'tle 
soup with impunity ?” Alderman; “ I don’t 
know my lord; I never tried that way. I 
always eat mine Avith a spoon.” 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
BOTANICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 29 letters. 
My 6, 4, 24, 11,16, 18 is a beautiful autumnal flower. 
My 25,10,27,22,17 was a distinguished American Botanist. 
My 27,14, 17, 6, 21,16, 11 an appendage of plants. 
My 4, 2.3, 8,15 tlie botanical name of a forest tree. 
My 22, 5, 23, 24, 16, 1 belongs to Class 18th, Order 1st 
My 18,15, 2, 17, 27 is a kind of calyx. 
My 7, 16, 19 an ornamental tree, retaining its verdure 
through all the seasons. 
My 29, 10, 23,14, 9, 8 is one of the most common kinds of 
inflorescence. 
My 13,' 3, 2, 28, 27, 23, 16, 23, 16, 11, 20 an umbelliferous 
plant. 
My 27, 4, 17j 1, 2, 20 is valuable for its medical properties. 
My 9,22,17,4, 17,6,5,16, 18 the name of one of the classes 
of plants. 
My 15, 22, 29, 19, 16,1, 22,17 was a Scotch Botanist. 
My 24, 14, 10, 27 is essential to the growth of plants. 
My 13,25,18, 9, 26 the name given to part of a pericarp. 
My 5, 16, 23,12 a plant of general utility as an article of 
food. 
My 29, 22, 13, 2 is honored with tlie title of “ Queen of 
Flowers.” 
My 7,8, 6,16,18 is the botanical name of a flower ibund 
in Class 3d, Order let. 
My 3,24,2,10,27 belongs to the natural family of the grasses 
My 11,16,11,10, 23 is a shrub cultivated for its beauty and 
. fragrance. 
My whole is the name and location of a flourishing In¬ 
stitution in AVestern New York. 
Ovid, N. Y., June, 1850. Lucy. 
[CTAnswer in two weeks. 
ENIGMA. 
Correspondents, an adverb by you must be found, 
Head it first with a B, it will then become round 
If you head witli a C it becomes an address; 
With an F it is then in the greatest distress; 
AVith a G, and that instant a nut ’twill become. 
With an H, and ’twill change to a very large room; 
AVith an M, and you’ll find it a hammer instead; 
With a P, ’tis a covering used for the dead; 
AVitb a T, I am lofty there’s not the least doubt; 
AVith a AV head, and I keep people out — 
I mean such as robbers, who come for to steal, 
Now I trust this enigma you’ll try to reveal. 
O’ Answer in two weeks. 
RIDDLE. 
A mortal being in this world did dwell. 
As sacred writings unto us do tell. 
Who never sinned, nor any evil knew; 
And, what is strange, (for much of him was true,) 
He never shall be raised from the dead; 
Nor at the day of judgment show his head; 
But yet in him there was a soul that must 
Suffer in woe, or live among the just. 
O Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS, &c., IN NO. 34. 
Answer to Enigma — The Gold Mines or Cautornia. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma— Ptolemy or Alsx- 
Answer to Rebus — Rebus. 
Answer to Charade — Charade. 
Savings Bank. 
T iik monuoe county savings institu¬ 
tion will be open daily from 10 o’clock, A. M. to 3 
o’clock, P. M,, at the Rochester Bank Building, No. 22 
Exchange street. 
TRUSTEES: 
Everard Peck, Daniel E. I.«wis, 
David R. Barton, Thomas Hanvey . 
Chas. W. Dundas, Moses Chapin, 
Levi A. Ward, Ebenezer Ely, 
Lewis Selye, Amon Bronson, 
AVm. N. Sage, Geo. W. Parsons, 
Wm. W. Ely, Geo. Elwanger, 
Alvah Strong, .Toel P. Milliner, 
Martin Brisgs, Ephraim Moore, 
Tlieodore 6. Hamilton, Nchemiah Osborn, 
Freeman Clark. 
EVERARD PECK, President. 
Freeman Clark, Treasurer. 
Rochester, June 1, 1850. [23-tf.] 
MARSHALL’S BOOK BINDERY, 
BURNS’ BLOCK, comer of State 
Bufliilo streets, over Sage & Bro, 
WfHiniaMrfy Bookstore, Rochester, N. Y. 
Music, Pamphlets, Periodicals, &c. bound in plain 
and fancy bindings; old books rebound; Blank Books 
ruled to any pattern, and bound to order; Public 
and Private Libraries repaired at short notice.— 
Packages containing directions for Binding, punatu- 
ally attended to. 
N.B.—All work warranted, and done at low prices. 
May, 1850. [21] F. H. MARSHALL. 
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Pablishing Agents, 
WHO WILL RECEIVE SUBSCRIPTIO.NS, AND FURNISH OOPIEB 
OP THE RURAL NEW-YORKER: 
ELON COMSTOCK, Rome, N. Y. 
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T. S. HAWKS, Buffalo. 
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1. R. TREMBLY, DansviUe. 
Qj” Also Agent for Naples and Homellsville. 
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