MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
IMAGINAEY EVILS. 
Let to-morrow take care of to-inorrow; 
Leave things of the future to fate : 
What's the use to anticipate sorrow ? 
Life’s troubles come never too late ! 
If to hope overmucli be an error, 
’Tis one that the wise have preferred ; 
And how often have hearts been in terror 
Of evils — that never occurred ; 
Have faith — and tliy faith shall sustain thee 
Permit not suspicion and care 
With invisible bonds to enchain thee, 
But bear what God gives thee to bear': 
By his Spirit supported and gladdened. 
Be ne’er by ‘ forebodings’ deterred: 
But think how off hearts have been saddened 
By fear—of what never occurred ! 
Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow ’. 
Short and dark as our life may appear, 
We may make it still darker by sorrow — 
Still shorter by folly and fear ! 
Half our troubles are half our invention. 
And often from blessings conferred 
Have we shrunk in the wild apprehension 
Of evils that never occurred! 
literaq an^i Htistfllantaua. 
"a thanksgiving scene, 
A THKHUNO STORY. 
Adelaide Talbot was beautiful and love¬ 
ly in her youth, dearly loved by all, but best 
by those of her own fireside circle. She 
was, indeed, the ric^st gem in that circle. 
When the long lashes were lifted from her 
ever changing cheek, you could look into 
the very soul of the high-minded, sunny- 
hearted girl. Six years before, she had 
stood in her father’s low parlor on Thanks¬ 
giving eve—she had stood between that 
father and mother to whose faces she lifted 
her soul speaking eyes, his bride of an hour. 
And as the good mother’s raspberry wine, 
carefully bottled for the occasion, went 
round, she dreamed not that in that cup 
lurked a demon that should overthrow the 
altar just erected. Caleb Reynolds was 
now a drunkard and a deserter from his 
home. He had enlisted, it was thought, in 
an hour of intoxication—but his wife was 
left to learn it from other lips. He went 
without one word of farewell, to the plains 
of Mexico—and never since had she heard 
of him. Poor Adelaide carried her crush¬ 
ed heart back to her father’s house, longing 
only to lay in the grave. Have you ever 
seen a tree in our Western forests, blighted 
by “ girdling” as the woodsmen call it— 
cut off from its connection with the life-giv¬ 
ing earth, and then left to wither for years ? 
I never pass such a tree without thinking 
of the slow death of the heart, to which 
some writer has strikingly compared it It 
was thus that Adelaide stood among the 
other plants of her father’s nurture. Have 
you ever seen from such a girdled tree, a 
young shoot spring out, and striking down 
its fibres form a feeble connection with the 
bark below, and sustain a sure though sick¬ 
ly life in the tree ? It was thus that little 
Robert came, to bind a few broken fibres ' 
from her early hopes and dreams on earth. 
But we are forgetting our Thanksgiving 
—none of the aunties forgot it however— 
or the cousins, ^d by the time farmer Tal- 
lot’s “ big sleigh” had emptied twice upon 
the old salt sprinkled stone steps, all were 
brought home from church, and all were 
there. 
All—except two unaccountable stragglers, 
“ the boys,” as two striplings nearly six feet 
high continued to be called, who were cul¬ 
tivating the sciences in a college not many 
miles away. And why were they not there ? 
So questioned every one, and grandmamma 
did not answer—only wiped her spectacles 
every few minutes on her apron, and peer¬ 
ed out of south|jvest ’.vindow. 
Mean-v^hile the nevy comers were all clus- j 
tered in “ sitting room” making a mer-1 
ry use of the interlude between service and 
dinner. There was Robert, the eldest son, 
with his romping family and anxious look¬ 
ing wife. There was Charlotte—no, no¬ 
body knew her by that name—Lotti, bloom¬ 
ing in her prime, and managing her little 
ones to a charm. There was Philip, “ the 
old bachelor,” though by no miAns a crusty 
one. Next to him sat a pale, stiff-looking 
cousin from the nearest factory village.— 
Last, but not least, though in truth she was 
a little one—was the school ma’am—the 
youngest of her father’s flock, the laughing 
fun-loving Susie. She was not beautiful, 
as Addie had been, but there was such a 
world of good nature in her low broad fore¬ 
head and dimpling cheeks, that you loved 
her at first sight I will not attempt her 
portrait, for I do not know that she ever sat 
still long .enough to have it taken, except in 
church. This day she was here, and eve¬ 
rywhere, among the children, kissing one, 
. romping with another, and then tossing up 
Robert^ baby, td the terror of its mamma 
and the delight of all others. 
“ You must let me go and help grand¬ 
mamma take up the turkey, indeed you 
must,” cried Susan, laughing, as she push¬ 
ed through the doorway, followed by the 
whole scampering troop. One had sprung 
from the top of the arm chair to her shoul¬ 
der, and sat crowing like a parrot on his 
perch. 
As she advanced towards the kitchen, the 
outer door was thrown suddenly open and 
“ A merry Thanksgiving to you!” burst from 
the lips of the intruders, amid the renewed 
shouts of the boisterous brood. 
“ Bless me, where did you drop from ?” 
cried the mother, dropping her ladle into j 
the coals in her surprise. 
“ Why, brothers, we never heard your 
sleigh bells,” exclaimed Susan, throwing off 
her encumbrance, and heartily welcoming 
the young collegians. 
“ I dare say not,” cried Edward, as he 
knocked the snow from his boots. “We 
chartered other sort of vehicles, hey. Will ?” 
“ The fact is,” exclaimed Will, “ that we 
started with the sunrise this morning, but 
met with a most provoking “ breakdown ” 
by the way.- So, not to be cheated out of 
our Thanksgiving, we footed it through the 
drifts. We’ve lost Parson Wood’s sermon, 
but we’re in time for mother’s dinner; and 
I assure you a walk of eight miles has given 
us a good pair of appetites.” 
So they sat down to dinner at last, all the 
loving and the merry ones. Grandfather 
hushed them for a moment, while he lifted 
his bronzed hands over the huge platter, 
and invoked bountiful Heaven in a lengthy 
but fervent “ blessing.” Then followed the 
usual clattering, and—but I need not des¬ 
cribe it all; you see it as well as I do. 
The “ wish bone,” (a great prize that,) 
fell to the share of the shyest one, little blue 
eyed Nelly, who carefully wrapped it in her 
white apron as a sacred treasure. 
“ Coz, may I break with you ?” screamed 
her cousin Harry, from the other end of 
the table. 
“ No; I am going to break- ; 
“ With whom, I should like to know ?” 
“ With aunt Susie, then,” said the little 
dove, nestling timidly to her side. 
“ Aunt Susie—he, ha! aunt Susie would 
look finely breaking a wish bone.” 
“ And why not, Master Hariy^ ?” said Su¬ 
san, merrily. “ I assure you I have broken 
more than one wish bone at this very table.” 
“ And did your wish ever come to pass 
—did they ever, aunt Susie ?” cried three 
voices at once. 
“Yes, did they ever, aunt Susie?” chim¬ 
ed in Edward, casting up from his plate a 
sidelong, demure glance, that brought 
blushes and dimples to her cheeks. 
Susie had seen some quiet little flirtations, 
even under her father’s Argus eye. Sud¬ 
denly her face grew serious. She caught 
Adelaide’s expression of countenance, as the 
latter quietly rose from the table, and made 
I some excuse for withdrawing. 
! The wish bone was broken to a charm— 
snapping exactly in the middle, to the infi¬ 
nite amusement of the juveniles, who had 
been making bets on the result. The “ba¬ 
bies” went to sleep at the right hour pre¬ 
cisely, and were packed into their snug 
cradles with blankets and pillows. The el¬ 
ders of the juvenile company Avere enscon¬ 
ced in a corner to play “ button;” and the 
brothers and sisters clustered in quiet little 
knots. William and Susan sat by the win¬ 
dow, not to sentimentalize over the moon¬ 
light that came flickering through the fleecy 
clouds, but to gather up the threads of con¬ 
fidential tete-a-tetes — to chat of college 
scrapes, and—saA’e the mark—school ma’¬ 
am’s rogueries. 
Grandmamma had her knitting of course 
—bless the dear old fingers that had kept 
so many feet warm; and Susie, the modern 
substitute a crotchet purse to net. 
“ William,” said Susie, lowering her voice 
at a pause in the conversation, and glancing 
up furtively, “ Avhat do you think of Addie 
to-day ?” 
William stole a glance around. “ Much 
as usual, is she not, poor thing ?” 
“ See how she sits there with her fingers 
moving through Bobby’s curls, and her eyes 
fixed on vacancy.” 
“ This was her wedding night you know.” 
“ I tell you Willie, that Addie loves Rey¬ 
nolds with all her whole heart yet, as truly 
as she ever did on that evening. She has 
never spoken his name, even to me, since 
the day her father forbade it ever to be 
mentioned in his presence, but there is some¬ 
thing terrible in this statue-hke grief of 
hers.” 
A sharp, quick bark under the window 
arrested the conversation. 
“ Be quiet. Growler, old fellow, what are 
you about ?” shouted William, and he was 
still. 
Dear silent Adelaide now brought around 
the tray of nuts and apples^ and every one 
tried to make her smile as he took a share, 
but her smile was as faint as moonlight on 
an icy lake. 
Harry and Nelly had called aunt Susie 
over to the corner to name their apples, and 
all were quite silent for a few moments. 
The quick bark came again from the dog, 
followed by a low, protracted groAvl. Ed- 
Avard jumped up to investigate matters, but 
before he reached the door it was opened, 
sloAvly but firmly, and a tall pale figure step¬ 
ped within it, and stood—silently. The sud¬ 
den paralysis of surprise bound every voice. 
A moment more, and with a faint, desper¬ 
ate cry, Adelaide dropped her boy from her 
lap, and sprang across the room to—her 
husband. 
As his arms closed around lier, and her 
head sank like a broken lily on his shoulder. 
farmer Talbot started as if stung by a bitter 
memory. His arm was raised, and his white 
locks floated back— 
“Father!” 
It was Susan’s voice choked Avith burn¬ 
ing agony as she sprang to catch the hand 
of the old man. 
The uplifted hand fell, and all was hush¬ 
ed for one long moment 
“ Come you as a reformed man, Caleb 
Reynolds ?” and farmer Talbot’s tone was 
firm, though quiet 
“ I do, by the help of God, my father,” 
the stranger solemnly answered. 
Farmer Talbot threw the glare of the can¬ 
dle on his features. 
“ Caleb Reynolds never spoke like that, 
and the old man modulated each word, as if 
to steady his trembling voice. 
“ Have you signed the temperance 
pledge ?” 
“ I have signed it, and I have kept it for 
a year.” 
“ Then, my son,”—the old man’s hand was 
extended, but his voice was. choked. He 
bowed himself down, and wept like a child. 
But the arms hung loosely around Caleb 
Reynold’s neck; the surprise had been too 
sudden, and gentle Addie had fainted.— 
Not till they had won back the life tide to 
her cheek, and seen her again in the arms 
of her husband, turning to him that look of 
soulfull earnestness, that her early years had 
worn—not till then—did the others ap¬ 
proach to Avelcome, Avith tearful embraces, 
their long lost brother. 
“And is this our boy, Addie, Avhom I 
never saAV ?” murmured Caleb, pressing his 
lips to the little round forehead of the sleep¬ 
er. She only replied by her tears. 
No question further was asked; but Ca¬ 
leb soon spoke of his wanderings. Wound¬ 
ed in battle, and brought to the point of 
death, he had listened to the angel Reflec¬ 
tion. But with reflection and good resolu¬ 
tions came also remorse and despair. Who 
should win back to him the forfeited affec¬ 
tions of his deserted wife ? It was then 
that the lesson learned on his mother’s knee 
came beaming up through the gloom of 
years squandered in dissipation. He went 
to the fountain of peace and drank of the 
“ living water.” Having fixed and finished 
his term of probation, ho sought again his 
home. 
“ I knew,” said he, “ )’OU would be all 
assembled there to-night; and I lingered, 
shivering, long before I could man my heart 
to come in among you.” 
“ Brother,” exclaimed more voices than 
one. I 
The clock in the corner struck nine—it 
was the hour of prayer. Farmer Talbot 
, laid his hand on the family bible, and Aviped j 
his glasses. j 
“ Come, my children, let us give thanks to 
the angels to-night, for this my son was 
dead, and is alive again—was lost, and is 
found.” 
AN AFFECTING SCENE. 
In a lawyer’s office in a remote part of 
Connecticut, laid a mortgage for eleven hun¬ 
dred dollars, which was within a few days 
of being due. One morning, the man on 
whose place the mortgage was held, called 
and inquired if the payment could be put 
oft’ for a short time. He was a man some¬ 
what advanced in life, and very intemperate. 
The lawyer, in reply to his inquiries, said 
that the man that held the mortgage Avant- 
ed his money—that he was sorry, but it 
could not be extended. The tears came in 
the old man’s eyes, and after standing a few 
moments, a perfect image of despair, he 
turned and left the office. He returned 
home, believing that in a few days, his aged 
and infirm wife, and invalid daughter, would 
have to quit the roof which had so long 
sheltered them, and seek a home he knew 
not where. 
He could say nothing to them about it, 
it would cause them so much grief. The 
mortgage became due, and in the morning 
early the farmer again repaired to the law¬ 
yer’s office. 
He pleaded for a time, but to no purpose. 
Overcome with emotion, the old man sunk 
into a chair, and there sat for two hours, ap¬ 
parently unconscious of anything that was 
passing around him, when a carriage drove 
up to the door and a lady stepped from it. 
She entered the office. After standing a 
few minutes, eyeing the old man with in¬ 
terest and emotion, she spoke. The old 
man looked up. 
“Father, hoAV do you do?” 
“ Oh! Sarah, I am well but sad. I am 
glad to see you, but sorry for your aged 
mother and invalid sister; I cannot return 
to them, for it will be to tell them they have 
no home, and this I cannot bear. It will 
kill your poor mother.” 
“Father! father!” said the daughter, 
“ could you liA’^e a temperate man, if this 
were paid?” 
“Yes! oh, yes! I would; but it cannot 
be, for I have nothing to pay it with.” 
“ Now, sign the pledge, and here is the 
money.'' 
The old man put his name to the redeem¬ 
ing, the saving pledge, and departed to his 
home with a happy heart 
The daughter had saved the eleven hun¬ 
dred dollars by working in a factory. 
Saniijwns aiib Smnmng. CurnEr. 
LOTION vs. BALSAM; 
OR, THE QUACK DOCTOR. 
We derive the annexed communication 
from a correspondent:—There are probably 
many people now living, Avho remember the 
celebrated Quack Doctor, Reuben Nathans, 
who, flourished some forty years since, and 
whose medicines, “the Chinese Balsam of 
Life,” and the “celebrated Hair Invigora¬ 
ting Lotion,” made so much noise at that 
time. But few I presume, have heard of 
the anecdote I am about to relate concern¬ 
ing him. When the “ Doctor’s” medicines 
were first announced to the world, a simple 
minded laboring man purchased one bottle 
of the Lotion and another of the Balsam 
for his wife, who had a consumptive cough, 
of many years standing, and Avas beside 
threatened Avith the total loss of her hair. 
The Avoman used both remedies according 
to directions, and as is usual with ignorant 
people in such cases, thought they were 
really doing her a vast deal of good. The 
cough seemed to her to be going away rap¬ 
idly, she “breathed freer,” Avhile her hair 
appeared to be coming back again thicker 
than ever. As a natural consequence, she 
felt very great confidence in the medicines; 
and when her first lot of Balsam was all 
used she sent her husband to get the bot¬ 
tles filled again. The Doctor asked the 
man how the medicines operated. 
“ Oh, grandly,” replied the husband, “my 
Avife’s cough’s e’en a’most gone, and her 
hair’s all coming back again, as fiery, as 
ever.” 
“Ah,” said the Doctor, “ that’s the way 
my medicines always work. There’s no 
mistake about them. They’re just what I 
call them ‘the greatest wonders of the age.’ 
I s’pose you’ve no objection to give me your 
affidavit ?” 
“ Oh, no,” replied the man; “ that’s just 
what my wife wants me to do.” 
The couple then repaired to the Mayor’s 
Office, Avhere an affidavit was drawn up, 
sworn to, and witnessed. On returning to 
the Doctor’s shop, the quack took up the 
empty bottle for the purpose of refilling it 
Uncorking it, he put it to his nose and smell¬ 
ed of it 
“ Why, what can this mean ?” he exclaim¬ 
ed, in some astonishment; and then after 
looking at the label, smelled of it again.— 
“ Why, sir, this isn’t balsam, though the la¬ 
bel says so, but the ‘Hair Lotion!’” 
“ Hair Lotion or not” replied the man, 
pointing to the bottle, “ that’s what cured 
my wife’s dreadful cough, and the stuff in 
the bottle at home is what made her hair 
grow again!” 
“ Strange! strange!’’ repeated the Doctor, 
with a puzzled countenance; “I don’t know 
what to make of it Will you be kind 
enough, sir, just to step back and get me 
the other bottle—the Hair Lotion, I mean.” 
The man did so, and soon returned with 
the Lotion bottle. The Doctor took it and 
applied his nose to the mouth. 
“ And this,” said he, “ is just as sure the 
Balsam as the other is the Lotion. Don’t 
you think there was some mistake on your 
part, sir? Are you sure that what Avas in 
this bottle made your wife’s hair grow 
again?” 
“ Just as sartain as I’m alive,” replied the 
man; “ for I always turned it out Avhile Bet¬ 
sey held the spoon.” 
The Doctor sat down in a chair, and, lay¬ 
ing a finger on his nose seemed buried in 
profound thought 
“ Ah! I see!” he at length exclaimed, and 
jumping up he filled the empty bottle again. 
“There, sir,” said he, giving it to the man 
and hurrying him to the door; “all’s right 
sir, I was a little bothered, that’s all. Call 
again when that’s gone, and you shall have 
another for nothing.” 
As soon as he had shut the door on his 
customer, the Doctor called in his “ confi¬ 
dential ” man from the labratory. 
“ Moshes,” said he, “ we’ve made a great 
mistake in our guess Avork, after all. I’ve 
been studying ver’ hard lately, and have 
just discovered that our Lotion is the stuff 
to cure the coughs and consumptions, and 
the Balsam is the best to make the hair 
grow! We must change the labels.” 
“ That’s unlucky, replied the man, “ for 
we’ve got four thousand bottles, two thou¬ 
sand of each kind all ready to send away 
to-morrow.” 
“Vel, vel,” said the Doctor, “you can 
change the labels if you ha"£ time; if not, 
send them off as they are. yTisn’t mosh 
matter.” 
One of the States passed an act that no 
dog should go at large without a muzzle, 
and a man was brought up for infringing 
the statute. In defence he alleged that his 
dog had a muzzle. 
“How is that?” quoth the justice. 
“ Oh,” said the defendant, “ the act sayi 
nothing of where the muzzle should be 
placed, and as I thought the animal would 
like the fresh air, I put the muzzle on his 
tail.” _ _ _ 
The man that talks of drawing off the 
Hudson and building a railroad on its bed, 
has gone to Norway, to get the Maelstrom 
to suck it up witL 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; 
Nothing’s so hard, but search will find it out.’ 
HISTORICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 39 letters. 
My 8, 35, 12, 28, 29 was a celebrated English Poet, 
who flourished in the early part of the 18th 
century. 
My 19,25, 24,16, 18, 32, 9, 12, 14 was Chief Jus¬ 
tice of England about the middle of the 15th 
century. 
My 28, 18, 39 was a celebrated French chieftain who 
has a conspicuous place in the history of France. 
My 12, 30, 8, 32, 32, 23, 32 was a King of Ithaca, 
and one of the besieging generals against the 
city of Troy. 
My 1, 14, 31, 32, 30, 36, 15 was an avaricious and 
cruel Austrian, set by the Austrian Govern¬ 
ment over the subjugated Swiss, and whose 
death was the first step towards the liberty that 
the Swiss now enjoy. 
My 32, 13, 31, 34, 31, 3 was an illustrious Roman 
General famed for his virtues and his courage. 
My 30, 20, 26, 11, 8, 7, 16, 21, 27 was a French pa¬ 
triot, who left a title and a fortune at Paris, 
and fitted out a vessel with his own means, in 
order to fight the battles’of America. 
My 9, 20, 2, 32, 11, 6 was one of the first Roman 
triumvirate, who, after conquering all his foes, 
and being proclaimed Emperor, was assassinat¬ 
ed in the Senate Chamber. 
My 32, 25, 12, 37, 33, 23, 39 was a poet of celebri¬ 
ty, who flourished in England in the former 
part of this present century. 
My 32, 17, 14, 28, 32, 37, 3, 28, 36 was an English 
Poet, who was the author of some of the best 
English pastorals ever written. 
My 19, 30, 7, 21, 9, 10, 23, 24 was an English dra¬ 
matist of some merit, who flourished in the 
17th century. 
My 38, 20, 21, 13,30, 31, 4, 5, 27 was keeper of the 
tow'er of London, during the regin of Henry 
VIII, of England. 
My 32, 22, 31, 6, 30, 2, 39 was a dramatist of the 
17th century,—the author of the “Lady of 
Pleasure,” and other pieces of merit. 
My whole is one of the most celebrated poets in 
English history and his merited title. 
03=” Answer in two weeks. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 17 letters. 
My 1, 8, 9, 4, 3 is a county in Georgia. 
“ 2, 6, 10, 13 is a river in the Western States. 
“ 3, 6, 15, 12, 418 a mountain in California. 
4,11, 12, 2, 9 is a county in Michigan. 
“ 5, 10, 16, 4 is a county in Ohio. 
“ 6, 11, 14, 16, 10, 9, 3 is a county in Tenessee. 
“ 7, 2 is a river in Virginia. 
“ 8, 14, 4, 9 is a county in Indiana. 
“ 9, 11, 3, 6 is a county in North Carolina. 
“ 10, 8,14, 11 is one of the United States. 
“ 11, 12, 6, 4, 9, 15 is a town in Georgia. 
“ 12, 11, is a river in Virginia. 
“ 13, 12, 12, 11, 14, 11 is atow'n in Illinois. 
“ 14, 11, 15, 6, 17, 12, 11 is a parish in Louisiana. 
“ 15,12, 2, 16, 4, 15 is a county in N. C^olina. 
“ 16, 11, 9, U, 14, 6, 11 is a county in Virginia. 
“ 17, 2, 9, 17, 11 is a town in Michigan. 
My whole was one of Napoleon’s Marshals. 
{Lt* Answer in two weeks.- 
A PUZZLE. 
A country girl to town did go, 
Some walnuts there to sell; 
A gentleman she chanced to meet. 
And thus it her befell. 
“ My pretty maid,” said he to her, 
“What number have you here?” 
“ I can’t tell, sir,” said she to him, 
“ But this I’ll make appear. 
“ I told them o’er, ere I came out, 
By six, five, four, three, two, 
, And every time I number’d them, 
Ono still remained, o’erplus. 
I told them out by sevens, at last. 
And there were no remains — 
If you can find the number out. 
Pray take them for your pains.” 
03= Answer in tw'o weeks. 
ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS, &c. IN No. 32. 
Answer to Enigma— Gekekal Francis Marion. 
Answer to Problem— 
Answer to Mensuration Question— Fiftit-Nine 
Feet anii Six Inches. 
Answer to Poetical Enigma— Hope. 
HOWE’S PAINT SHOP, 
LeROY, GENESEE COUNTY, N. Y. 
P W. HOWE & BROTHER will be found at their 
. Shop, opposite the LeRoy Female Seminary ready 
to attend to all orders in House, Sign, Ornamental and 
Carraige Painting, Graining and Paiier-Hanging. Also, 
Uiey are prepared to furnish Window Shades of a superi¬ 
or quality. We venture to say we can get up as good, if 
not a better, Window Shade Uian has ever been offered in 
Western New York. Ladies and gentlemen call and judge 
fbr yourselves. 
LeRoy, June 4,1850. [24-eow4m] 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
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Publishing Agents, 
WHO WILL RECEIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, AND FURNISH COPIES 
OF THE RURAL NEW-VORKER: 
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.Mr. C. is also general agent for Oneida County. 
T. S. HAWKS, Bufihlo. 
W. L. PALMER, Syracuse, N. Y. 
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53 =’ Also Agent for Naples and HornellsviUe. 
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