MOOKE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL 
jiHistelliiiu] aiiii ®iogta|iljq. 
WE WERE BOYS TOGETHER. 
BY GEO. P. MORRIS. 
We were boys together, 
And never can forget, 
Tlie school-house near the heather. 
In childhood wliere \vc met ; 
The humble home to memory dear. 
Its sornnv.s and its joys ; 
Where woke the transient smile or tear. 
When you and I were boys. 
We were youths together. 
And castles built in air. 
Your heart was like a feather, 
And mine weighed down with care ; 
To you came wealth with manhood’s prime. 
To me it brought alloj'^s— 
Foreshadowed in the primrose time. 
When you and I were boys. 
We’re old men together— 
The friends we loved of yore. 
With leaves of autumn weather. 
Are gone for evermore. 
How blest to age the impulse given. 
The hope time ne’er destroys— 
Which led our thoughts from earth to Heaven, 
When you and J were boys ! 
THE BARGAIN. 
*' WiiAT have you there, husband ?” said 
Mrs. Courtland to her thrifty and careful 
spouse, as the latter paused in the open 
door to give some directions to a couple of 
porters who had just set something on the 
pavement in front of the house. 
“ Just wait a moment, and I’ll tell you. 
Here, Henry! John! bring it inhere.” The 
two porters entered with a beautiful sofa, 
nearly new. 
^ “ Why, that is a beauty, husband ? How 
kind you arc ?” 
“ It’s second hand, you perceive; but its 
hardly soiled—no one would know the dif¬ 
ference.” • 
“It’s just as good as new. What did you 
give for it ?” 
“ That is the best part of it. It is a splen¬ 
did bargain. It didn’t cost a cent less than 
two hundred dollars. Now what do you 
think I got it for ?” 
“ Sixty dollars ?” 
“•Guess again.” 
“ Tifty ?” 
“ Guess again.” 
“ Fifty-five ?” 
“ No. Try a,gain.” 
“But what did you give for it, dear?” 
“Why, only twenty dollars!” 
“Well, now, that is a bargain.” 
“ Ain’t it, though ? It takes me to get 
the things cheap,” continued the prudent 
Courtland, chuckling with delight. 
“ Why, how in the world did it go off so 
low ?” 
“ I managed that. It ain’t every one that 
understands how to do these things.” 
“ But how did you manage it, dear ? I 
.should like to know.” 
“ Why, you see, there were a great many 
other things there, and among the rest some 
dirty carpets. Before the sale I pulled over 
these carpets and threw them upon the sofa; 
a good deal'of dust fell from them, and made 
the sofa look fifty per cent worse than it 
really was. When the sale was commenc¬ 
ed, there happened to be but few persons 
there, and I asked the auctioneer to sell the 
sofa first, as I wanted to go,, and would bid 
for it if it were sold then. Few persons bid 
freely at the opening of a sale. 
“ What’s bid for the splendid sofa ?” he 
began. 
“ I’ll give you fifteen dollars for it,” said 
I; “ it’s not worth more than that, for it’s 
dreadfully abused.” 
“Fifteen dollars! fifteen dollars! only 
fifteen dollars for this beautiful sofa!” he 
went on; and a man next to me bid seven¬ 
teen dollars. I let the auctioneer cry the 
last bid for a few moments until I saw he 
was likely to knock it down. 
“ Twenty dollars!” said I, “and that’s as 
much as I’ll give for it.” 
“ The other bidder was deceived by this 
as to the real value of the sofa, for it did 
look dreadfully disfigured by the dust and 
dirt, and consequently the sofii was knocked 
off to me.” 
“ That Wixs admirably done, indeed,” said 
Mrs. Courtland jvith a bland smile of satis¬ 
faction at having obtained the elegant piece 
of furniture at so cheap a rate. “ And it’s 
so near a match, too, for the sofa in our 
front parlor.” 
The scene occurred at the residence of a 
merchant in this city, Avho was beginning to 
coxint his fifty thousands. Let us look on 
the other side of the picture. 
On the day previous to the sale, a widow 
lady with one daughter, a beautiful and in¬ 
teresting girl about seventeen, was seated 
on a sofa in a neatly furnished parlor in 
Hudson street. The mother held in her 
Vand a small piece of paper, on which her 
e}es were intently fixed; but it could bo 
readily preceived that she saw not the char¬ 
acters ^hat were written upon it. 
“What is to be done, ma?” at length 
asked t\e daughter. 
“ Indeed, my child, I cannot tell. The 
bill is fifty dollars, and has been due, you 
know, for sweral days. I haven’t got five 
dollars, and your bill for teaching the Miss 
Leonards cannot be presented for two I 
weeks, and then it will not amount to this 
sum.” 
“ Can’t we sell something more, ma ?” 
suggested the daughter. 
“ We have sold all our plate and jewelry, 
and now I’m sure I don’t know what we 
can dispose of unless it be something that 
we really want.” 
“What do you say to selling the sofa, 
ma?” 
“ Well, I don’t know, Florence. It don’t 
seem right to part with it. But perhaps we 
can do without it.” 
“ It will readily bring fifty dollars, I sup¬ 
pose?” 
“ Certainly. It is of the best wood and 
workmanship, and cost one hundred and 
forty dollars. Your father bought it a sljort 
time before he died, and that is not more 
than two years past, you know.” 
“ I should think it would bring nearly one 
hundred dollars,” said Florence, who knew 
nothing of auction sacrifices; “ and that 
would give us enough, besides paying the 
quarter’s rent, to keep us comfortably until 
some of my bills become due.” 
That afternoon, the sofa was sent, and on 
the next afternoon Florence went to the 
auctioneer’s to receive the money for it. 
“Have you sold that sofa yet, sir?” asked 
the timid girl, in a low, hesitating voice. 
“ What sofa. Miss ?” asked the clerk, 
looking steadily in her face, with a bold stare. 
“ The sofa sent by Mrs.-, sir.” 
“ When was it to have been sold ?” 
“Yesterday, sir.” 
“ Oh, we havn’t got the bill made out yet. 
You can call the day after to-morrow, and 
we’ll settle it for you.” 
“Can’t you settle it to-day, sir? We 
want the money, particularly.” 
Without replying to the timid girl’s re¬ 
quest, the clerk commenced throwing over 
the leaves of the account book, and in a few 
minutes had taken off the bill of the sofa. 
“ Here it is — eighteen dollars and sixty 
cents. See if it’s right, and then sign this 
receipt.” 
“Ain’t you mistaken, sir? It was a 
beautiful sofa, and cost one hundred and 
forty dollars.” 
“ That’s all it brought. Miss, I assure you. 
Furniture sells very badly, now.” 
Florence rolled up the bills that were 
given her and returned home with a heavy 
heart. 
“ It only brought eighteen dollars and 
sixty cents, ma,” she said, throwing the 
notes into her mother’s lap, and bursting 
into tears. 
“ Heaven only knows, then, what we 
really shall do,” said the widow, clasping 
her. hands together and looking upwards. 
There are always two parties in the case 
of bargains—the gainer and the loser; and 
while the one is delighted with the advan¬ 
tage he has obtained, he thinks nothing of 
tho necessities which have forced the other 
party to accept the highest offer. But tew 
buyers of bargains think or care about ta¬ 
king this view of the subject 
MODEST YOUNG MEN. 
We love a modest, unassuming young 
man, wherever we find him; in a counting- 
room or law office, at the bellows or the 
crank, at the roller stand or the type case, 
on a clam bank or in the pulpit. Among a 
world of brass and impudence, he stands 
forth, an honor to himself—showing to oth¬ 
ers that he at least has got a good bringing- 
up, and knows what belongs to good man¬ 
ners. Ask him a question, and he will not 
give you a snappish reply, or look cross 
enough to bite you. If you are looking- for 
anything, he will take pains to find it for 
you if he can. When in the company of 
others, he does not usurp the conversation 
and endeavor to call the attention of others 
to' himself, by his boisterous language. He 
listens attentively to his seniors, and modest¬ 
ly advances his opinion. We love such a 
young man, we do sincerely, and his compa¬ 
ny we highly prize. If he meets you in the 
street he pleasantly bows and mildly bids 
you good morning. You do not see him 
standing- at tho corners, using- profane lan¬ 
guage, or find him at the entrance of the 
churches on the Sabbath. He quietly en¬ 
ters his pew, and takes his seat without a 
single flourish. He goes to hear and not to 
see. Such young men there are in this city. 
We meet them often. You will find them 
in some of our work-shops, printing- offices, 
and other places, where to work and earn 
one’s living- is fashionable. When they 
come upon the stage of active life they must 
succeed—it cannot be otherwise. We would 
give more for a modest, unassuming young- 
man, for all the practical business of life, 
than for a score of impudent rascals, who 
arc not worth the bread they keep from 
moulding. 
Goon, wholesome food, and temperance, 
with pure, cold water to. drink and bathe in, 
with fresh air, plenty of exercise, and a clear 
conscience, arc said to do more to restore or 
preserve health, and prolong- life, than every 
doctor and medicine in the universe. 
Real Manners. —Good manners is the 1 
art of making- those people easy with whom 
we converse. Whoever makes the fewest 
persons uneasy, is the best bred in the com¬ 
pany.— 
People often effect to be out of humor, 
to appear of consequence. 
The Phrenologist on a steamboat knows 
whom to trust with the care of his overcoat 
and unlocked valise, while he steps ashore 
TO WIVES AND MOTHERS. 
Your Maker has given you great influ¬ 
ence in the family circle; so great that the 
BEST ROOMS. THE HAIR. IT N* T’ ¥) { + 
Among all the follies prevalent in the The Phrenologist on a steamboat knows ' ^ 
middle classes, that of sacrificing- family whom to trust with the care of his overcoat “-- 
comfort and convenience to the absurd de- and unlocked valise, while he steps ashore WIVES AND MOTHERS, 
sire of having a best room, is one of the a few moments at a landing; and the Phys- v at i l ~ 
most ridiculous. Let it not be inferred that iognoraist needs but one scrutinizino-glance „ ^ 
we consider good furniture, elegant curtains, at tho “human face divine” to assure him- ^ that the 
and handsome carpets, as superfluous luxu- self with positive certainty of the merit or ^ *^® greatly 
rios for people in plebeian state-far from demerit of the possessor; but after all we yo^abuse 
it. Consistent taste and prudent display believe there is no better method of iudg- ""V; ^ with which, for a wise and 
are to be as much admired in the house of ing the general characteristics of a man Ppmpmhpr'fw’ -h 7®^-“" 
a commoner as in the saloons of a noble- than from the texture and color of his hair - k • fi ^ character 
man; but when a room is set apart in a and his mode of dressing it. You meet a otier respects, if you are in any 
small domicil as the mere receptacle of, fellow in the street with long, dark hair, T.rp^„oiirishin°fI”v?lvH InTu 
company, and all in that room held sacred completely saturated with Macassar or Eau i;l„ o / ’u . 
to frigid ceremony and ostentatious preten- Lustrale, with the ends carefully rolled un- cp f ? 1 ^ adder. -— 
sions,%vhen chahs are cased in Holland der, as if to protect them from the cold,- il T 
jackets, and the carpet puts on its pinafore he has just paid the barber a “ York shil- „ ^ ®wn sex, and are you 
if the saih ematerial for months together, ling- ” and has a dime left,-he will be sL 
when the apariment is literally shut up,- to wear “patent leather ” shoes a galvanized “nhe £VaU 
indicating that family comfort lies dead watch-chain, suspended, perhaps, with a , i ^ i i yeur 
within it,-tlion may the best room be con- hook from a pinchbeck repeater. He takes [h,„4hout life, sWr^e ^ay'be°a d" 
demned as worse than useless. the inside of the walk, smokes a “ lon.o-nine.” _i „ 
hook from a pinchbeck repeaten He takes honriTfe; s’hmdd one ’da7 bTHe! 
tlic inside of tlie walk, smokes a long nine, i ^ i , , , . . . 
a. buau buu u bue wciir, «moKes a long nine, " ^^q^d drunkard; and his returning foot- 
For our own part, we think there is some- and when, he travels, buys a copy of Eu- ^ be heard 
thing perfectly terrifying in being asked- gene Sue for a companion. 1 ou see anoth- day only with dread and alarm; and his 
into a stately drawing room—the polished er with yellow, sickly brow^n or crimson voice, hitherto attuned to words of affection- 
bars shining with unnatural brightness- locks which he wears invariably short, part- ^te solicitude, heard in harsh and anffrv 
the fire-irons arranged in-stiff angles, evi- ed behind, and pointing with bristling'ad- ^nes, grating strangely on the pure love of 
dently never appropriated to their purpose dress .towards each ear. He is sure to y^^r bosom? This is no improbable and 
- the table most geometrically studded wear a standing collar without a wrinkle, startling supposition with which to auDal 
with glossy unread volumes of rubbish, and supported by a fancy cravat; be likes to go yo^. j^^ny fond hearts have been severed 
the besilked and betassilled sofas, looking mto a store where there are plenty of mir- by drink; many afiectionate husbands have 
as if they were intended for anything but rors, walks straight, looks genteel, and car- been turned into demons by the same agen- 
sitting on. We give an involuntary shudder nes a small canebeware how you jostle ^y, abusing, neglecting, and cruelly trcatinir, 
as we are left to gaze on costly chimney him or tread on his toes, for he acts from tb^ Q^ce much loved and cherished wife — 
ornaments and jappanned screens, while impulse, is passionate, and not likely to re- ^ut, even should your husband escape are 
the lady of the house is, most probably, tract anything. y^^ influence over those 
making-a rush to execute the metamorphose Another has fine silken hair which by dear children who sport around your knee 
of dress and cap. We would much rather the means of paper rolls every night, is ^nd cheer your hearth with their innocent 
have been introduced to the common par- made to cur quite naturally. He is effem- mirth? Do they see you, on festive days 
lor, where we should have beheld some mate in his habits, carries a pocket looking- presenting the glass to your friends, prei- 
signs of vitality, and thawed ourselves into glass, takes Grahaiu’s Magazine, and threat- ^g it upon them with the kind welcome and 
good humored cheerfulness; but then and ens a voyage to Italy, lake it as an infal- .^vishes for their welfare? What do they 
there we might have beheld a basket of Jiblc ride, a man with a remarkably fine jearn from this? That there is something- 
stockings and socks undergoing the process bead of hair never has a remarkably fine good ^ the cup, something indispensable to 
of repair, the young-ones might have been intellect; they are incompatible substances, social happiness. They go forth to the 
lugging the chairs about, and left a tailless RRii no piocess^ in the great laboratory of world prepared to taste it whenever it comes 
horse and a wheelless cart in the foreground; Nature can unite them. 
we might have formed suspicions that her- ^ on see another man with coarse brown abhorrence, they look upon it wTth confi- 
rings had been among the matin condi- or black hair utterly refusing to stay where jence; they think it a friend instead of a 
ments; and oh, most dire of all! we might ho puts it, and standing all over liis head foe; and the process so soon begun, is, alas! 
have found the mistress in a somewhat like the hair on the neck of an angry dog; fo^ easily completed. To avert tbe nroba- 
in their way. Instead of viewing it with 
abhorrence, they look upon it with confi¬ 
dence ; they think it a friend instead of a 
too easily completed. 
and encountering a fifth rate head gear, to himself to accommodate you. He has a promise of something better than we have 
the petrifying, spirit-damping fifteen min- high forehead, a long face,^and a dimple m gy^r yet been privileged to behold. It is 
utes we were sentenced to sit in a “ best his chin, wears calf boots. No. 11, and is not plainly the duty of every mother to encour- 
room.” ashamed to own it. i i , age her children to join them. But, above 
The children, if there happen to be such Another wears his hair carelessly inclmed get them the example, and take the 
humanizing things in the establishment, to one side, while a few silver threads re- pledge yourselves. For your own sake siwn 
look on the walls with a sort of religious lieve the sombre shades of the original,— it; thousands of your sisters have been fum- 
awe. They never “play” in the “best he wears a black tweed coat, and ed by drink. For the sake of your husband 
iwix.,” tUoj. oi ciuiemng ai jocius me uaiiy aeeuuiu ur —j . „.-jr auvi'Lixiiaxx.xx u, ir. 
the splendid bell-rope; they never have the 'road stock. He is a rich man and of course banish from your homes that cup which has 
most remote idea of making coaches of the unassuming. ^ been the cause of so much misery and 
plainly the duty of every mother to encour¬ 
age her children to join them. But, above 
all, set them the example, and take the 
embroidered foot-stools, and never think of 
playing- at “Bo-peep” behind the richly 
fringed damask drapery; they never dare 
to speculate as to whether, with a stout pin. 
unassuming. ^ been the cause of so much misery and 
I inally, you rarely if ever see a politician ^bich is truly “the wife’s woe and the 
with smooth hair,—a great scholar with children’s sorrow.” 
fine hair,—an artist with red hair,—a fop __ _ _ 
with coarse hair—a minster with long hair, HINTS TO lauies 
they could pick out the eyes of the queer or an editor whose hair is carefully adjusted, 
little man on the Indian card box; mirth — Cidturist and Qaz. 
and mischief are thoroughly mesmerized, --- 
and the little darlings sit or stand as though AMEMCANISMS. 
their life tide had been suddenly manufac- ,7^1 '«rpi 1; 
tured into the “ best starch ” Lenytliy, for long. “ The discourse was 
tured into the best starch. ^ lengthy:' James, the Novelist, era- 
And let us confess, that we experience pfoyg the terra occasionally. It is very com- 
no inconsiderable sense of misery ourselves fo Eno-lisb books, 
in such a situation.^ It may be that a trace notice, for to note or to observe. The 
of gipscy blood is in our veins, or that some Enolish Dictionaries have the noun “notice,” 
HINTS TO LADIES. 
A LADY should never show ill temper.— 
Petulance and fretfulness destroy the charm 
of female character. When we see her 
cheeks burning with indignation, and her 
Lengthy for long. “The ffiscourse was ^ 
iry lengthy." James the Novelist, em- hardly worthy a second thought, she begins 
lovs the terra occasionally. It is very com- Z _x;_ 
very lengtny: james, me lAoveiisr, em¬ 
ploys the terra occasionally. It is very com¬ 
mon in English books. 
To notice, for to note or to observe. The 
to occupy a lower place in our estimation, 
and ten chances to one if we do not cease 
to respect her. A woman’s lips is the place 
ot gipscy Diooa is in our veins, or mat some English Dictionaries have the noun “notice,” foj. omilps and her bparf shmilrl hn m 
natural disqualification for “gentility” equal- but not tho verb tor smiles, and hei heart should be the re¬ 
ly ignoble, marks us, but we are certainly Clever _The Eno-lisb aDolv this word goodness and gentleness; scorn 
never quite comfortable in a room tluat is any one capable of ripid intellectual anTtheTitffir sLuld 
only oocupied on«gnnnd occasions.--^/,xa it ““f- b“ 0!“^ Ob. W 
e><iOIC. natured. _• i._ .-..-xi_■* p * , 
_____ , woman sinks in the scale of amiability, when 
WATER AMONG THE ELEMENTS. lo wsc, in the sense of to be accustomed, indulges in harsh recriminations and 
-- “ I am not used to such treatment.” This is fitter words. An ill and ungoverned tem- 
WxVTER is ^\e belle in the family of ele- avulg-ansm. ^ ,, , per would transform an angel of lio-ht into 
ments. Earth is never tolerable unless dis- Talented, in the sense of “ clever. The common-place mortal, possessing ^neither 
guised in green. Air is so thin as only to English “ a man of tJilents,” but seldom brightness nor goodness of liTs former 
be visible when she borrows drapery of wa- use the adjective. ^ condition. 
ter; and Fire is so staringly bright as to be Creatures, for animals on a farm. ^Yb, ladies, beware of your tempers!— 
unplccisiiut to tlic eyesights but proceeds. CouTciiit, ^ 1*0 you (juick in your J^ccliugs^ Then 
soft, pure, graceful water! there is no shape Many other instances in frequent use strive with all your strength to be moderate, 
into which you can throw her that she does might be added. We give a few of the Do not try once or ri/’/cc only to cultivate an 
ter; and Fire is so staringly bright as to be Creatures, for 
unpleasant to the eyesight; but Water! A.i’fH7s,forproc 
soft, pure, graceful water! there is no shape Many other i: 
into which you can throw her that she does might be added 
not seem lovelier than before. She can bor- more common, 
row nothing of her sisters. Earth has no Learn, for tea* 
We give a few of the 
stream in his youth ? Who is there, in whose ypersonal appearance. 
ision of the past there does not sparkle up, Allot upon, for count upon. This is a that one has lost his self-possession, and is 
from every picture of childhood, a spring or mere Yankeeism 
)re common. amiable disposition, but a thousand times if 
Learn, for teach; “ we learned him the necessary; let the struggle be constant and 
son.” _ ^ unrelaxing, and your reward will be a glo- 
Venturesome is used in this country for rious one. Are you in the habit of speak- 
nturous. ing in a s/iarj!> voice, when a little excited? 
jewels in her lap so brilliant as water’s spray lesson.” unrelaxing, and your reward will be a glo- 
pearls and emeralds; Fire has no rubies like Venturesome is used in this country for rious one. Are you in the habit of speak- 
what she steals from the sunset; Air has no venturous. ing in a sharp voice, when a little excited? 
robes like the grace of her line-woven and xSVai;e, for stage coach. This is decidedly Let me entreat of you not to do it again, 
ever-chan^-ing drapery of silver. A health a vulgarism. Think before you speak, or the habit will 
to Water! css, is applied by some Americans grow stronger. Ladies, above all things, 
Who is there, who did not love some io temper and conduct; by the English to should never (/ec?am; they should converse. 
Declamation is not in good taste, and shows 
carried away by excitement—and self-pos¬ 
session, a lady should never lose. It is impos- 
a rivulet, woven tliroug-h the darkened and Balance, for remainder. session, a lady should never lose. Itisimpos- 
torn woof of first aft’ections like a thread of E.vpect, for suspect; “ I expect be was sible to be dignified and declamatory at the 
unchanged silver ? How do you interpret the thief.” same time; and certainly a lady should main- 
the instinctive yearning with which you Usually well, for well as usual. tain a quiet dignity under all circunistances. 
search for the river-side or the fountain in Likely, for promising ; calculate ' and Never allow yourself to show a ruffled 
every scene of nature—the clinging una- reckon for think or suppose; like he did, temper iu company unless you are insulted; 
ware to the river’s course when a truant in for as he did, missionate, approbate, obli- insult may be resented with dio-nity.__ 
the fields of June—the dull void you find in gate, happify, efic. ^ ^ j;[-q person appears well when really angry; 
every landscape of which it is not-the orna- A lew of these expressions have received jt is out of the question; but good nature, 
ment and the centre ? I' or myself, I hold the sanction of Dr. Noah W ebster, but a gentleness, and goodness, win insensibly 
with the Greek; “Water is the first princi- single lexicographer can do little against upon the heart One had better be grieved 
pie of all things: we were made from it and the great body of English literature and g score of times than be anf^ry once.-Mrs. 
we shall be resolved into it.”— Willis. literary men. Those of us who wish to j // Eobinson. ^ 
___ speak English and not “ Yankee ” nor any-- 
He who restrains himself in the use of other dialect of the English, will shun Amer- Sweetness of temper in woman is more 
things lawful will never encroach upon canisms and provincialisms of every kind.— valuable than gold, and more to be prized 
things forbidden. Family Visitor. than beauty. 
