MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL 
“I liave. I received charity once and it 
was from yon. The day after that unfortu¬ 
nate night, which I now place among the 
happiest moments of my existence, an old 
lady, in whom I had inspired some interest, 
obtained for me a situation as seamstress in 
a good house; gaiety and happiness soon 
returned, and I gained the friendship of my 
employer. One day. Lord Melville entered 
the little room where I was at work, and 
seated himself by my side. TTe was a man 
GO years old, tall, and with a freezing- 
countenance. 
“Miss,” said he, “I know your history. 
Will you marry me!” 
“Marry you!’-1 exclaimed. 
“Yes. I have an immense fortune, which 
I do not wish to leave to my nephews, I 
have got the gout, and I desire some one 
better than a servant to take care of me. 
From what I have heard of you, you possess 
a noble and elevated mind; you may now 
become Ijady Melville, and thus prove that 
you can bear good luck as well as you en¬ 
dured the trials of poverty.” 
“ I loved you, Frederic,” continued 
Madame de la Tour. “I could not forget 
j^u, and I had a presentiment that one day 
we should be united to each other. I knew 
that Lord Melville’s motive in marrying me 
was to vent his spite against his nephews, 
and I hated to be the instrument of his 
revenge. The noble Lord perceived my 
hesitation and he urged his point Those 
who surrounded me advised me to take 
advantage of the folly of a man worth 
millions. But I thought of you Frederic. 
Your image was constantly before my 
mind, and for the sake of one whom I had 
seen but a moment I almost sacrificed my 
fortune and yours. However, my trials 
had been too severe to allow my romantic 
ideas to get the better of my reason. 
“The young seamstress gave me up, and 
I became Lady Melville. That was the 
fairy tale, my beloved—a poor abandoned 
orphan, the wife of one of the noblest peers 
of England! In my splendid carriage, 
seated on silk and velvet I drove through 
the very street where, a few months before, 
I was begging for a morsel of bread. Such 
are the caprices of fortune.” 
“Happy Lord Melville!” exclaimed Fred- 
eric. 
“He was very happy indeed,” continued 
Madame de la Tour. “He was rich beyond 
measure, and never could spend his income, 
and he rightly supposed that gratitude 
would secure him the affections of a woman 
whose fortune he would make, and he never 
repented l\is marriage. I trusted my future 
welfare ih the hands of the noble lord, and 
I solaced his last hours. He died leaving 
me all his wealth, and I then vowed to my¬ 
self never to marry again but the man that 
had assisted me in the most painful mo¬ 
ments of my life. I endeavored to find you, 
but in vam. Ah, if I only had known 
your name!’* 
On saying this, the bride unfastened a 
necklace of rubies, and drew from a small 
silk purse attached to it, a five franc piece, 
encircled with gold. 
“It is the same,” said she, and placed it 
in the hand of Frederic. “By showing this 
piece of money, I was enabled to obtain a 
made him acquainted with this charming 
woman—accepted her invitations, and soon 
became one of the habitues and daily visit¬ 
ors at her house. The rich widow was 
surrounded by a host of admirers, but one 
by one they were driven away, and things 
went on so, that before the end of the week, 
the happy Frederic was the accepted suitor 
of the rich widow, who had made the first 
proposal of marriage. 
Frederic placed himself sometimes before 
his small looking glass and considered him¬ 
self -with attention. He was not ugly, but 
still he could not be called a beau garcon, 
and as his means did not allow him to 
attribute his good fortune to the skill of his 
tailor, he was induced to believe that he 
was loved for himself alone, or that Ijady 
Melville was fascinated by a spell. 
When the marriage day was fixed upon, 
and Frederic repaired to his lawyer to sign 
the contract, his surprise changed to amaze¬ 
ment He found himself worth a million! 
He owned an estate in Burgundy, a house 
in Paris, and other property he never heard 
of before. The widow had property abroad 
—estates in Wales, and pastures in Devon¬ 
shire. It was a golden dream, from which 
Frederic dreaded every moment to wake 
up; and though all the ceremonies had 
been duly performed, he would not believe 
in the reality of his happiness. “Rise, dear 
Frederic,” said his wife once more. “Take 
a chair and let us talk.” ^ - 
The young husband obeyed without 
abandoning the hand which he held, and 
Madame de la Tour began thus: 
“There was once—” 
“Ah,” exclaimed Frederic, “I knew it 
was but a fairy tale.” 
“Listen to me, dear. There was once a 
young girl, bom of parents who once had 
been rich, but who, when the girl was 
fifteen years old, had only the hard earn¬ 
ings of a father to support themselves. 
They resided in Lyons, but the hope of a 
better fate induced them all to come to 
Paris. Nothing is harder to gain again 
than a lost fortune. The father of the 
young girl struggled four years with pover¬ 
ty, -wifeout bcang able to conquer it, and 
foally died in a hospital 
“The wife soon followed her husband, 
and the young girl remained alone in a 
garret, the rent of which was not paid, and 
without a friend in the world. If a fairy 
was to play a part in my story, it would 
now be the time for her to appear. But 
there is no fairy, 
“The young girl remained in Paris with¬ 
out parents, without friends, without money, 
asking in Yam from strangers for work, 
which is riches to the poor. Hunger be¬ 
came more and more pressing, and at last 
drove the unfortunate girl into the streets 
to beg for charity. She covered her head 
with a veil, the only inheritance she had re¬ 
ceived from her mother, bent down to imi¬ 
tate old age, went into the street and held 
out her hand. But her hand was white 
and delicate; it was dangerous to show it, 
and the girl was compelled to wrap her veil 
around it as if it had been covered with 
disgusting sores. 
“The girl placed herself against the wall 
away from the light, and when a young g-irl 
more fortunate than she was, gaily passed 
by, she held out her hand and begged for 
a cent—a cent to buy a little bread. But 
her appeal was vain. An old man came 
next, and the poor girl ag^n implored 
charity; but old age is often miserly and 
hardhearted. The old man passed on his 
way. The evening was cold and rainy—it 
was getting late, and the watchmen were 
repairing to their different posts for the 
night Once more the young girl, exhaust¬ 
ed and almost dying with hunger, held out 
her hand. She addressed a young man, 
who stopped, felt in his pocket, and threw 
down a piece of money; for he would not 
come in contact with such a miserable look¬ 
ing object A policeman, who was watch¬ 
ing the beggar, appeared suddenly and 
seized her. 
“I have caught you at it,” he exclaimed; 
“you are begging. I will take you to the 
watch house.” 
“The young man immediately interposed; 
he took by the arm the poor girl, whom 
the moment before he would not have 
touched even with his glove, and addressed 
himself thus to the policeman: 
“This Avoman is not a beggar,” said he; 
“she is well known to me.” 
“But, sir,”—replied the enforcer of the 
law against begging. 
“I tell you again that I know this person. 
Poor old Avoman,” said he, Avhispering in 
the ear of the young girl, whom he took for 
an old Avoman, “take this five franc piece, 
and let me accompany you a short distance ; 
“ Attempt tlic end, and never stand to doubt; 
Nothing’s so hard, but search will find it out.' 
GETTING USED TO IT. 
“PRESS ON.” 
A RIVULET ’ S SONG, 
“SoMEAviiERE about here,” Avrites a| 
southern correspondent of the Knicker- 
bocker, “ lives a small farmer of such social 
habits that his coming home intoxicated Avas 
once no unusual thing. His Avife urged him 
in vain to sign the pledge. ‘Wliy, you see,’ 
he would say, T’ll sign it after a Avhile, but 
I do’nt like to break right off at once; it 
ain’t Avholesome. The best Avay always is to 
get used to a thing by degrees you knoAv.’ 
‘Very Avell, old man,’ iiis helpmate Avould 
rejoin, ‘see now if you don’t fall into a hole 
one of the.se days, Avhile you can’t take care 
of yourself, and nobody near to take you 
out’ Sure enough, as if to A'crify the pro¬ 
phesy, a couple of days after, returning 
from a glorious frolic, the old felloAv reeled 
into his own Avell, and after a deal of use¬ 
less scrambling, shouted for the ‘light of his 
eyes’ to come and help him out ‘Didn’t I 
tell you so?’ said the good soul, showing 
her cap-frill over the edge of the parapet; 
‘you’ve got into a hole at last, and it’s only 
lucky I’m in hearing, or you might have 
drowned, you old dog you! ‘Well,’ she 
continued after a pause, letting doAvn the 
bucket, take hold.’ And up he came, high¬ 
er at each turn of the Avindlass, Tintil the 
old lady’s grasp slipping from the handle, 
down he Avent to the bottom again. This 
occurring more than once, made the tem¬ 
porary occupant of the Avell suspicious.— 
‘Look here,’ he screamed in a fury at the 
last splash, ‘you’re doing that on purpose— 
I know you are!’ ‘Well noAv I am,’ re¬ 
sponded his old ’Oman, tranquilly, Avhile 
Avinding him up once more. ‘Don’t you 
remember telling me it’s best to get used to 
a thing by degrees ? I’m ’fraid if I was to 
bring you right up on a sudden, you would- 
’nt find it wholesome!’ The old fellow 
could not help chuckling at her application 
of his principle, and protested he would sign 
the pledge on the instant if she Avould lift 
him fairly out This she did, and packed 
him off to ‘swear in,’ wet as he was. ‘For 
you see,’ she added, very emphatically, ‘if 
you ever fall into the well again. I’ll leave 
you thar — I will!’ ” 
“ He wore a flashy waistcoat.” —He 
wore a flashy wasitcoat, on the night when 
first we met—with a famous pair of whis¬ 
kers and imperial of jet His air h^ all 
the haughtiness, his voice the manly tone, 
of a gentleman of eighty thousand dollars, 
all his own. I saw him but a moment, yet 
methinks I see him now, Avith a very flashy 
waistcoat and a beaver on his brOAv. And 
once again I saw that brow—no neat bea¬ 
ver was there, but a shockinc: bad ’un was 
L** Just under an island, ’midst rusbee and moss, 
I was born of a rock-spring and dew ; 
I was shaded by trees, whose branches and leaves 
Ne’er suffered the sun to gar-e through. 
“ 1 wandered around the steep brow of a hill, 
AVhere the daisies and violets fair 
Were shaking the mist from their wakening eyes 
And pouring their breath on the air. 
“ Then I crept gently on, and I moistened the feet 
Of a shrub wliich enfolded a nest — 
The bird in return sung his merriest song. 
And showed me his feathery crest. 
“How joyous I felt in the bright afternoon, 
When the sun, riding oft’ in tlie west, 
Came out in red gold from behind the green trees 
And burnished my tremulous breast i 
“ My memory now can return to the time 
When the breeze murmured low plaintive tones. 
While I wasted the day in dancing awayi 
Or playitig witli pebbles and stones. 
“It points to tlie hour when the rain pattered down. 
Oft resting awhile in the trees 
Then quickly dcsiending it ruffled my calm, 
And whispered to me of tlie seas ! 
“ ’Twas then the first wish found a home in my breast 
To increase as time hurries along ; 
’Twas then I first learned to lisp softly the words 
AVhich I now love so proudly — ‘ Press on! ’ 
“ I’ll make wider my bed, as onward I tread, 
A deep, mighty river I’ll be — 
‘ Press on ’ all the day will I sing on my way. 
Till I enter the far-spreading sea.” 
It ceased. A youth lingered beside its green edge 
Till the stars in its face brightly shown ; 
He hoped the sweet strain would re-echo again— 
Bathe just heard a murmur—“ Press on! ” 
I nm composed of 22 letters. ^ 
My ], 7, 8, 15, 12, 11 is a .Senator from Tennesec, 
My 2, 7,15, G, 14, 8 is also one from Virginia. 
.My 3,13, 10, 17, 21 is one of the Representatives 
from Ohio. 
My 5, 15, 9, 12, 8, 4, 20, 17 is a Representative from 
Tennesec. 
My 6, 2, 7, 8,21, 1, 20, 17 is the Delegate from Or¬ 
egon to Washington. 
My 7, 17, IG, G, 3, 9, 4. 1, 3, 22,12, 21 is threaten¬ 
ed with dissolution. 
My 9, 7, 11. 8 is a Jieprescntntivo from the Empire 
State. 
My 10, 4, 2, 3 is a Ropresentalive from N. fJarolina. 
My 11, 20,7, 15, 18 is a Representative from Il¬ 
linois. 
My 12, 13, 5, 15, 4 is a Representative from Mary¬ 
land. 
My 13, IG, 15, 22, 20, 17 is a Represontative from 
Ohio. 
My IG, 17, 18,14 is a Representative from Alabama. 
My 17,20, 8, 8, IG, 21 is a Senator from New Ilamp- 
sliire. 
My 18, 8, 14, 12, 15 is a Senator from R. Island, 
My 19, 20, G, 1, 14, 8 came near being elected 
.Speaker of tlie llouse of Representatives. 
My 20, G, 16, 4 is a Representative from Maine. 
My 21, 22, 13, 22, 21, 20, 17 is a Representative 
from Maine. 
My 22, 2, 7, 8, 15, 10, 17 is a Representative from 
New Y’ork. 
My whole is nearly thirty years of age. 
Answer in two weeks. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
1 nm composed of 19 letters. . 
My 1, 14, 8. 3, 11, 19 is a county in Virginia. 
My 2, IG, 2, 7, 2, 15, 10, 2 is a town in Mexico. 
My 3, 2, 13, 2, 12, 19, 2, 4 is a town in Georgia, 
My 4,18, 8, 3, 16, 11, 12 is a river in Tennesee- 
My 3, 16, 2, 8, 7, 6, 11, 19 is a river in Oregon, 
My 6, 8, 7, 17, 12, 18, 17, 3 is one of the U. States. 
My 7, 11, 10, 4, 14 is a town in Yucatan. 
My 2, 16, 4, 9, 12, 3 is a town in Tennesee, 
My 9, 8, 7, 17, 3 is an island in the Atlantic Ocean. 
My 10, 2, 12, 16, 11, 19 is a town in Kentucky. 
My 11, 4, 17, 18 is one of the United .States. 
My 12, 6, 8, 14 is a river in Egypt. 
My 10, 6,15, 10, 17, 19, 12, 2, 16, 16, 6 is a town 
in Texas. 
My 14, 16, 19, 2 is a town in Michigan. 
My 15, 2, 3, 4, 13, 17, 8, 7, 14 is n town in Texas. 
My 16, 2, 8, 7, 2, 4, 2, 3, 3, 9, 14 is a town in Flo¬ 
rida. 
My 10, 2, 16, 2, 4. 11,18, 8, 2 is a lake in Louisiana. 
My 18, 4, 17, 11 is a county in Virginia. 
My 19, 11, 5, 2, 3, 10, 18, 16, 17,2 is a British Pro¬ 
vince. 
My whole is a subject of much controvery. 
(FT’ Answer in two weeks. 
FAREWELL, 
VVe do not know how much we love, 
Until we come to leave ; 
An aged tree, a common flower. 
Are things o’er which we grieve. 
There is a pleasure in the pain 
That brings us back the past again. 
AVe linger while we turn away, 
AVe cling while we depart; 
And memories unmarked till then. 
Come crowding round the heart. 
Let what will turn us on our way. 
Farewell’s a bitter word to say. 
PROBLEMS, 
THE TALISMAN, 
OR THE HAPPY RESULT OF A GOOD ACTION. 
BY ALFRED GAUDELET. 
Jt ayRS bride had 
lOng Stace retired to her nuptiai chamber, 
Avhen her young husband at last succeeded 
to escape from the supper table, and leaving 
his guests to take care of themselves, he 
repmred to his Avife’s apartment 
“Come in, sir,” said Anne, in a discreet 
voice, “madame is Avaiting for you.” 
The young husband pushed open the 
door, and threw himself at the feet of his 
Avife, who indeed was waiting for him, seat¬ 
ed by the fire in the elegant and coquetish 
dishabille of a rich widow, whose desires 
have been satisfied by a new marriage. 
“Rise, I pray you, my beloved,” she said 
to her husband, stretching her hand to him. 
“No, no, Madame,” replied the young 
man, seizing the hand extended to him, “no: 
allow me to remain thus at your feet, and 
do not take away your hand, for I fear you 
will escape, I tremble lest all this should 
prove but a dream. It seems that I must 
be the hero of some fairy tale, and that on 
the point of being happy, my happiness will 
fly away, and leave me to sorrow and des- 
A SON asked his father how old he was, andia re¬ 
ply he said; “ If you take away 5 from my years, 
and divide the remainder by 8, the quotient will be 
one-third of your age; but, add 2 to your age, and 
multiply the whole by 3, and subtraet 7 from the 
product, then it will be my uge.” What was the 
age of the father and son ? 
[CT Answer in two weeks. 
A MAN has a certain sum of money to divide 
equally among some beggars ; if he gives them 40 
cents each, one will receive nothing, but if he 
gives them but 35 cents each, he will have 20 cents 
left. How much money had he, and what was the 
number of beggars ? 
CTAnswer in two weeks. 
POETIC AL EN IGMA. 
I have no l)€auty, yet I see 
The mightiest monnrehs sigh for me. 
I have no wit, yet smiles I gain. 
No brilliant talents could obtain. 
And know that those who have me not, 
Can nothing relish they have got. 
[0= Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS, &c. IN NO. 34. 
Answer to Historical Enigma.—[Not answered.] 
Answer to Gcogruphical Enigma.— Joseph Poni- 
ATOWSKl. 
Answer to Puzzle.— Twe.nty-one 
Notices of the Press. 
The plan on which the Rural New-Yorker is 
to be conducted is somewhat novel. W e have had 
monthly periodicals on the subject of agriculture, 
but this is the first attempt that has been made to 
disseminate information on this and the kindred 
matters through the medium of a weekly paper.— 
It really proves itself already equal to the high¬ 
est cxpectationsof the public, and worthy of an 
extensive patronage.— Wayne Sentmel. 
Traa’eling West. —“ Where are you 
bound, friend?” cried a pumpkin-hoeing 
yankee to a traveler upon a skeleton steed. 
“ To the western country,” drawled the tra¬ 
veler. “ Get oftj then, and straddle this 
ere pumpkin vine,” said the man of notions, 
“ ’twill grow and carry you faster than that 
ere beast, I guess.” 
A Modest Wish. —“What would I like 
to have ?” said Miss Winterblossom. “ Why, 
two bushel baskets full of needle.s, and all 
of them needles worn clean up to the eyes 
in making bags, and all them ere bags 
chock full of dimuns. You wouldn’t talk 
about Callyforny arter that” 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER 
published every THURSDAY, AT ROCHESTER, BY 
D. D. T. MOORE, Proprieter. 
Publication Office in Bums’ Block, [No. 1, 2d floor,] 
comer State and Buffalo streets. 
Terms, in Advance: 
Two Dollars a Year — $1 for six months. To 
Clubs and Agents as follows: — Four Copies for $7; 
Seven Copies for $12; Ten Copies for $15. All 
moneys received by muil will be acknovvledged in 
the paper, and receipts sent whenever desired 
Post-Masters, Clergymen, Teachers, Officers and 
Members of Agricultural Societies, and otlier influ¬ 
ential persons, of all professions —friends of Mental 
and Moral as well us of Agricultural Improvement — 
are respectfully solicited to obtain and forward sub¬ 
scriptions to the New-Y^orker. 
Qj’Subscription money, properly enclosed, may 
be sent by mail at our risk. 
TERMS^OF ADVERTISING; 
A limited number of appropriate advertisements 
will be inserted in the New-Yorker, at the rate of 
50 cents per square (twelve lines or less,) for the first 
insertion, and 25 cents for each sHbsequent publica¬ 
tion. Casual advertisments 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. 
Notices relative to Meetings, Ac. of Agricul¬ 
tural, Horticultural, Mechanical and I'.ducationnl 
Associations, published gratuitously. 
Publishing Agents, • 
WHO WIM. RECEIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, AND FURNISH COPIES 
OF THE RURAL NEW-YORKER: 
ELON COMSTOCK, Rome, N. 
Mr. C. is also general agent for Oneida County. 
T. S. HAWKS, Buflblo. 
W. L. PALMER, Syracuse, N. Y. 
I. R. TREMBLY, Dansville. 
(UJ’ Also Agent for Naples and Ilomellsville. 
E. HOPKINS, Lyons, N. Y. 
other animals. In a mixed company, one 
day, when he became the subject of friend¬ 
ly gossip, the goat praised him. 
“Pooh!” said the lion, “this is too ab¬ 
surd. The beast is a pretty beast enough, 
but did you hear him roar ? I heard him 
roar, and, by the manes of my fathers, when 
he roars he docs nothing but cry ba a-a?” 
and the lion bleated his best in mockery, 
but bleated far from well. 
“ Nay,” said the deer, “I do not think so 
badly of his voice. I liked him well enough 
till I saw him leap. He kicks with his hind 
legs in running, and, with all his skipping, 
gets over very little ground.” 
“ It is a bad beast altogether,” said the 
tiger. “ He cannot roar, he cannot run, he 
can do nothing, and what wonder ? I kill¬ 
ed a man yesterday, and in politeness to the 
new comer offered him a bit; upon wliich 
he had the impudence to look disgusted, 
and say, ‘ No, sir, 1 cat nothing but grass.’” 
So the beasts criticised th« lamb, each in 
his own way; and yet it was a good lamb. 
A FRIEND of ours a few days since met a 
vocalist of some note in Broadway, and after 
exchanging the usual salutation.s, he said: 
“ So you are about leaving the city, eli ?” 
“Why, yes,” replied the other, “I leave 
for Baltimore to-morrow.” 
“Ah!” replied our friend, “ well, you have 
‘ bawled’ to a great many people in New 
York, and now you are going to baiol-to- 
more!’' , _ 
“ The British empire, sir,” exclaimed -a 
John Bull to Jonathan, “ is one on which 
the sun never sets.” “And one,” replied 
Jonathan, “ on which the tax gatherer nev¬ 
er goes to bed.” 
JENNY LIND. 
Not sweeter sang tlie Birds lii Eden, 
Than this flair Nightingale of Sweden, 
The only dlff’rence ’twixt the two lies liere- 
'j'liEiR notes were gratis, hers nre very dear. 
STEAM PRESS OF A. STRONG <t CO. 
