MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
calm and still, and the moon shone brightly 
over the whole scene. A boat lay moored 
within an indentation of the river at the 
young man’s feet He gazed rapidly round. 
Just above the point of the island he saw a 
small canoe, and a person standing upright 
in it—a woman with her hands clasped, as 
if in prayer. The canoe was hurrying 
down the stream, though not yet in the 
rapids. A lover’s glance is not easily de¬ 
ceived. It wa* Martha! 
dear Martha,” replied Abel in a low tone; 
! and these two simple and unsophisticated 
children of nature knelt and with the roar¬ 
ing cataract on each side, and the placid 
sky above, prayed to the God of their 
hearts. 
“ Let us go to my mother,” said Martha 
after an instant’s pause; and Abel without 
another word, struck out for the shore.— 
The meeting formed a mast exciting scene. 
Tears and questions, and thanks and laugh¬ 
ter, were strangely mingled with each other, 
and then the whole party returned to old 
Jacks’ house. 
It appeared that Martha, knowing her 
mother’s character, and aware of the influ¬ 
ence of a storm upon her mind, had deter- j 
mined as soon as the moon rose, to cross 
over and reassure the widow as to her own 
safety. She took her master’s bark canoe, 
and starting a good way above the site of 
the bridge, began pulling across. When 
the end, and never stand to doubt; 
ng’s so hard, but search will find it out. 
BY SOUTHEY. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
ENIGMA.—GEOGRAPHICAL AND ACEOSUCAL 
My days among the dead are past; 
Around me I behold, 
Where’er these casual eyes are cast, 
The mighty minds of old ; 
My never-failing friends are they. 
With whom I converse day by day. 
With them I take delight in weal, 
And seek relief in woe ; 
And while I understand and feel 
Hew much tc them I owe, 
My cheeks have often been bedewed 
With tcars.of thoughtful gratitude. 
My thoughts are with the dead, with them 
I live in.long past years ; 
Their virtues love, their faults condemn. 
Partake their hopes and fears 
And from their lessons seek and find 
Instruction with an humble mind. 
My hopes are with the dead ! A non 
My place with them will be. 
*lind I with them shall travel on 
Through all futurity ; 
Yet leaving here a name, I trust, 
That will not perish in the dust. 
weight of timber, which coming with terrif¬ 
ic violence against the bridges, had utterly 
destroyed them. The storm on this occa¬ 
sion was followed by the rapid swelling of 
the river, and about four o’clock the boom 
gave way; the mountains of planks and 
logs brought down by the inundation rush¬ 
ed madly through, and all communication 
between the island and the town was cut 
off. The timber plunged with irresistable 
force over the falls below the island, carry¬ 
ing the bridges away with it 
Tne roar of the blast, the rushing of the 
wild waters, the crash of logs, the plunging 
of masses of wood over the two cataracts, 
the running to and fro of the people, all 
roused in poor widow Curtis feelings of ter¬ 
ror and alarm; and about sunset she came 
into the house to old Jacks, and told him 
that she had received a death-warning rel¬ 
ative to her last child. Tears streamed 
down her pallid cheeks, and her whole mien 
was that of a broken-hearted woman. Both 
old Jacks and Abel sought to comfort her 
in every possible way. They tried ridicule, 
they tried reason, but all in vain; the wid¬ 
ow still declared she had heard the never- 
failing warning. 
“ And what was it like ?” suddenly cried 
old Jacks. 
“ A low screech, like the cry of one in 
pain,” replied the widow. 
“ Tush, woman, you heard the squaw of 
Cuth Island. She never fails to howl with 
the tempest.” 
“ And who, pray, was the squaw of Cuth 
Island?” 
Old Jacks drew the widow to the table, 
lit his pipe, poured out a glass of beer and 
after a vigorous hem, began his story. Be¬ 
fore the settlement of white men round the 
borders of Saco river, this island was inhab¬ 
ited by a whole tribe of Indians. An old 
fellow of the name of Cuth, wishing to es¬ 
tablish a saw and flour mill in the place, 
bought the site of the Indians, who on the 
receipt of the purchase-money, decamped in 
accordance with their word. Old Cuth 
then crossed over to the island to select the 
spot whereon he wished to build; but to 
his astonishment he found an aged squaw, 
who refused to depart She declared that 
in the general distribution she had been 
left out, and demanded a share of the pur¬ 
chase money of the white man himself.— 
Cuth gave her a bottle of rum, which she 
eagerly tasted, and then leaping into her 
canoe, hurried across to join her tribe. But 
whether the rum had affected her head, or 
whether age had rendered her limbs too 
weak to contend with the current, could 
not be known, but she was drawn into the 
rapids, and over the falls, where of course 
she was drowned. From that day the island 
point was believed to be haunted by the 
squaw spirit; and there was scarcely a man, 
woman or child in Saco, but would declare 
having heard the moaning of the old crone 
before and during the storms. 
“Maybe,” said widow Curtis, when old 
Jacks had concluded, “ maybe ’tis the squaw 
has given me every warning?” 
“ Nonsense, Mother Curtis; all nonsense 
and flummery. And yet I am bound to 
believe in ghosts, too. I aint a superstitious 
man, nohow, but I’ve been tried, too. One 
night I was at work till late at the Lower 
Ferry, and after work I joined a merry-ma¬ 
king. It was past twelve when I started 
home. Everything was square and straight 
until I got to the road near the church-yard; 
then I distinctly heard the rustling of a silk 
dress close beside me. “ Come out of that,” 
said I, “ and no poking fun at me!” I got 
no answer; and away I slashes in the bush¬ 
es with a big hickory stick; all to no good. 
The rustling of silk was still close to me as 
ever. I was in a precious rage with myself, 
I do own; but I heard it plainly enough. 
At last I came to the bridge; and you know 
the ends of the planks stick out beyond 
the rail to save sawing off. What do I see 
but an old fellow walking along these ends, 
beside me, in an old silk morning gown.— 
“ Good-night to you, Sam Jacks,” said he. 
I returned his politeness; and then he be¬ 
gan to ask news of Saco town, and of peo¬ 
ple dead and gone these twenty years. He 
seemed surprised when I told him they had 
all departed; and at the end of the bridge 
we separated. Now, widow Curtis, I know 
I did see all this, and yet old Sam Jacks 
knows precious well that there was nobody 
there. It wa? nothing but fancy and deceit, 
and so was the cry you heard. Cheer up, 
old girl Martha! — all right!” 
But the widow was not to be satisfied.— 
The old man’s stories rather excited her 
imagination, and she declared that every 
instant she felt more sure that Martha was 
gone. About midnight she started towards 
home, and Abel went along the water-side 
with her, to say a few words of comfort. 
“Did you hear that?” suddenly said the 
! poor mother; “If that was not Martha’s 
voice, it was her spirit.” 
Abel had heard the cry; it was a shriek 
of despair so clear, so distinct, no man could 
1 D_"La mi . • .1. __ _ _ 
I am composed of ‘23 letters. 
My 1, 11, 19, 13, 16, 15 Is a county in New York. 
My 2, 13, 12, 5, 9, 6, 1, 17, 22 county in North 
Carolina. 
My 3, 7, 6, 4, 23 county in Georgia. 
My 4, 15, 18, 6, 3, 19, 10 county in Georgia. 
My 5, 18, 20, 14, 2, 9, 1,10 county in New York. 
My 6, 17, 16, 8, 4, 7, 12, 5 county in N. Y. 
My 7, 10, 2, 9 county in North Carolina. 
My 8, 11, 19, 20 county in Maryland. 
My 9, 15, 20, 17, 12 county in Michigan. 
My 10, 16, 17, 20, 20 county in Mississippi. 
My 11, 4, 8, 2, 15, 6, 20 county in Indiana. 
My 12, 3, 4, 10, 17, 22 county in Kentucky. 
My 13, 4, 8 county in Pennsylvania. 
My 14, 17, 6, 20, 4, 15, 19, 5 county in New York. 
My .15, 4, 4, 9, 12 county in Ohio. 
My 16 7, 6,20, 13, 6 county in Kentucky. 
My 17, 6, 4, 11, 15, 19, 1 county in Vermont. 
My 18, 4, 10, 20, 13, 6 county in New York. 
My 19, 15,11, 2 county in North Carolina. 
My 20, 23, 4, 11, 6 county in Virginia. 
My 21, 15, 20,13,10 county in New York, 
i, 7, 1, 2 county in North Carolina. 
To leap into the 
j boat, to push out towards the canoe, and to 
| begin rowing with the energy of mingled 
love and despair, was the work of a single 
instant The widow sank down upon her 
knees on the bank. 
The river was wide, and the current 
strong, while just below were the rapids.— 
Abel was almost within their influence, and 
soon found it necessary to pull up stream to 
avoid being sucked in. When again he 
turned the bow of his boat across, the ca¬ 
noe was not more than fifty yards above the 
spot where he lay, and was coming with 
extreme velocity. 
“ Courage, dear Martha,” said the young- 
man ; “ Abel is at hand.” 
“ I dropped my paddles, Abel, while get¬ 
ting away from a snag.” 
“ Check the canoe with your own hands, 
dear girl. Put them in the water. Every 
inch gained is valuable.” 
“ I am going too quickly, Abel. You can 
never save me. Is that my dear mother on 
the bank ?” 
“ It is, Martha,” replied Abel, solemnly, 
at the same time pulling vigorously. “But 
silence now.” 
The two boats were drawing near, while 
both were setting down with great velocity 
on the rapids. Martha was in a light bark 
canoe, which lay almost on the surface of 
the water. A few minutes more and Mar¬ 
tha and Abel were parallel to each other, 
at a distance of about a dozen yards. Abel 
leaped to his feet, and looked around.— 
They were within thirty feet of the rapids, 
and two hundred of the falls, in the very 
middle of the stream. All hope of Abel’s 
catching the canoe was now gone. She, it 
seemed, could not be saved. They could 
only be lost together. The young man 
gazed at the moonlit isle, the shore, his 
father’s home, the aged mother kneeling on 
the shore, while old Jacks and his mother 
stood motionless near the threshold of their 
house. 
“ Martha,” cried Abel, in a voice calm 
and collected, though husk, “ act with cour¬ 
age and spirit. One minute, and we part, 
perhaps for ever. Rouse all your courage, 
think of your mother and of your future 
husband, and let the thought give you the 
energy of 
lie still and move not 
-My 22, 
My 23, 7, 19, 14, 21 county in N C. < 
My whole is the name of a beautiful and roman- $ 
tic place, and the County and State in which it S 
is situated. < 
0 s Answer nest week. ( 
THE DEATH WARNING. 
A LEGEND OF GACO ISLAND 
{ S BY PERCY B. 8T. JOHN. 
1 1 } Of all the great centres to which strange 
I) characters are attracted, Paris is perhaps 
\ the most remarkable, very much apparent- 
s \ ly, because of the encouragement given in 
< < it to original talent 'Clever and enterpriz- 
< I \ ing Americans are often met there. One 
< ) whom I lately encountered proved to be a 
{ ) pleasant and conversable man. We chanc- 
) ed to get upon the subject of superstition, 
s < or rather, to speak mere fairly, on matters 
< ( pertaining to what has been called the night 
1 > side of nature. 
j | “I expect you love a yarn; I’ll just give 
\ < you one which is genuine. I’m not a super- 
l stijfous man, but the contrary. But I’ll 
> ( g* ve you an item of new r -country fancies 
» <o which will amuse you.” 
> ? I shall not preserve the energetic words 
: \ of nay American friend, but give the facts 
| £ of his narrative exactly as they were told. 
I 1 Saco is a small town at a very short dis- 
c tance from the sea in the state of Maine, 
' famous only within a circumference of a 
few miles, in connection with the Labrador 
)• fishery, and also as the nursery of an in- 
(' dustrious, hard-working set of shipwrights 
c and fishermen. In the early history of the 
( State of Maine, mention Is made of Saco 
> Island as the site of an Indian village; but 
) local tradition gives more ample details rel- 
' ative to the ejection of the Red Skins from 
; the place. But with this I have nothing to 
( do, except incidentally, as will be seen in 
i the course of my narrative. 
f Abel Jacks, was the son of a working 
\ shipbuilder of Saco, a pushing, industrious 
] man, who in times of thriving business, and 
' when a pressing job was on hand, would 
) work eight days without taking off his 
> clothes. He lived in a house just above the 
> town, the front of which faced the island 
( which parted the river, variously known as 
( Cuth and Saco Island. Abel was his 
< youngest son—at the time we speak of a 
: young man of twenty. About a dozen 
) yards distant from their residence, was an 
l old, tumble-down shanty, which had been 
abandoned for many years. A murder had 
( been committed within its wails a long time' 
h ago, and people said that ever since noises 
■ were heard at midnight around it ruins—a 
j; troubled cry of conscience from the crimi- 
| - nal. No man was ever found bold enough 
I '( to reside in it again, until a poor widow, 
j; Curtis by name, obtained leave to make it 
j j her home. 
Widow Curtis was as superstitious and 
\ fearful as her neighbors, perhaps even more 
; so, for she firmly believed in death-warnings. 
> The once glad mother of nine children, she 
had lost eight, and before the real news 
; reached her, she always had a warning.— 
> It is true, that her signs and tokens came 
' very much oftener even than bad news; 
) but as bad news did sometimes follow her 
l hints from the other world, she had sufficient 
> reason fer her belief. She found herself at 
} last with only one child, a daughter of 18, 
\ who was at service on Cuth Island, in the 
house of Squire Sheen; and to be near 
\ this beloved child, the widow took up her : 
; quarters in the haunted shanty, which to 
) her seared heart had now no terrors. 
Mr. Jacks was kind to the poor widow, 
\ gave her some furniture, and assistance in 
( various other forms; and she was grateful. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
HISTORICAL ENIGMA 
I am composed of 32 Letters. 
My 3, 13, 8, 29, 6 16, 4 was a French writer of dis¬ 
tinction. 
My 5, 26, 19, 24, 18, 27, 19, 5, 1 was a celebrated 
Polish Officer. 
My 3, 2, 12, 26, 11, 17 wan an American General 
of the Revolution. 
My 9, 3, 14, 10, 16, 21 was a distinguished Officer 
of the Revolutionr. 
My 25, 10, 23, 13, 2; 26 was a celebrated Romance 
Orator. 
My 24, 21, 3, 23, 14, 20, 16, 8 >vaa a Greek Poet. 
My 8, 31, 22 was a celebrated French Officer of 
Napoleon’s time. 
My 23, 3, 29, 18, 35, 10, 21 ,13 was a daring Roman 
Conspirator. 
My 29, 3, 12, 15, 22, 30, 2, 24. 21, 17 was the 
Prime Minister of Bonaparte. 
My 24, 11, 6, 19, 29, 26, 28 w&9 a celebratad 
American Artist. 
My whole is the name and residence of the author. 
[O’ Answer nest week. 
POETIC LEGAL QUESTIONS. 
For the Rural Now-Yorker. 
RIDDLE. 
BY JOHM O. SAXE. 
Ir in a shindy or a fight 
Hick Roc had turned the tables. 
And eke should tear a piece from out 
John Doe’s un-men-tion-a-bles— 
Query—in such a case as that, 
What course to go upon? 
Should John bring suit against Dick Roe, 
Or Dick bring suit to John? 
Or if compelled to Bue Dick Roe, 
Say what the New Code teaches, 
Should John sue Dick for a breach of the peace, 
Or for a piece of the breeches? 
What is that which always crosses & sr.ver with 
its head downward? 
QT Answer in four weeks. 
a man. Lie down in the canoe; 
The fall is swelled 
I by the rain, and the white rock is hidden. 
That is a dear girl! Move not for your life! 
Adieu!” 
No more words were spoken. Martha, 
as she was bid, lay at full length in the bot¬ 
tom of the slight bark canoe, and the next 
instant was sucked into the rapids. Round 
and round went the frail boat, and then, 
entering the very centre of the quick flow¬ 
ing stream, it darted along, and was lost 
sight of over the falls. Abel pulled like a 
a madman for the shore, guiding his boat 
slightly up stream. 
“ My child! my child!” cried the agon¬ 
ized mother, as he leaped out upon the 
bank. 
“ Boy,” said his father severely, “ What 
have you done with Martha?” 
“Father, stay me not! Martha is in the 
hands of Providence. Follow, me and a 
few minutes will decide her fate!” 
The mother and Abel’s whole family ran 
with the young man along the shore, fol¬ 
lowing the portage of the falls. They soon 
reached the nook in which lay the boat 
used by the Jacks for fishing under the cat¬ 
aract. As Abel expected, the high tide 
and the great volume of waters considera¬ 
bly lessened the height of the fall which 
was also wider than usual. 
“ Where is my child ?” cried widow Cur¬ 
tis once more. 
Abe) made no reply, but leaping into the 
boat, pulled across the stream. The two 
falls, one on each side of Cuth Island made 
of course a very strong current in this part 
of the river, but where the two currents 
met, the one counteracted the other and 
the volume of water being very great three 
backwaters ensued, one going back to the 
island point, the other two along shore.— 
Abel pulled for the still water in the centre, 
and in a few minutes had the intense satis¬ 
faction of seeing the frail bark canoe lying 
motionless on the very edge of the eddy. 
“Martha!” he cried, in a low, agonized 
voice. 
No answer was given, and in a few min¬ 
utes more he was alongside. There she 
lay in the pale moonlight, as calm as an in¬ 
fant on its mother’s bosom, but to all ap¬ 
pearance lifeless. Abel lifted her hurriedly 
into the boat, and sprinkled her marble 
face with water. A deep sigh, a low wail¬ 
ing sound of pain, and then a burst of tears 
and laughter, proclaimed the victory of 
youth and nature over deal)?. 
“ Oh, Abel, how have I been saved ?” 
said the trembling and agitated girl, clasp¬ 
ing her lover’s two hands. 
“By thy courage and trust in Providence, Bare-faced —The new fashioned bonnets. 
GRAMMATICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 11 letters. 
My 1, 2, 8, 5 is a verb in the imperative mood 
My 2, 6, 9 is a numeral adjective. 
My 10, 2, 7 is an adverb of negation. 
My 11, 2 is a preposition. 
My 8, 5 is a personal pronoun. 
My 8, 9, 3 is a plural noun- 
My 4, 9, 6, 7 is a noun. 
My whole is what every one should possess. 
IT Answer next week. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &C., IN NO. 57 
Ans. to Enigma.— Charles Dickens. 
Ans. to Botanical Enigma,—Box a Jam: Skith, 
IMITHFIELD. 
Ans. to Charade — A Mirror. 
Ans. to Enigma.—S hades—Hades. 
Ans. to Second Charade.— Pillow. 
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1 
I 
