MOORE’S RL RAL NEW-YOR KER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
AUTUMN. 
Bleak autumn comes with gloomy air and brow. 
With gray and frosty locks. The forest trees 
Are hare, and leafless boughs wave to and fro 
In mournful cadence to the passing breeze. 
Forests, and meadows brown, and dale, and glen, 
And mountain tops involved in mists at eve t 
And morn, and frosty nights, and drizzling days. 
And swolen streams, and softly yielding turf. 
And chilling blasts, and driving sleet and snows, 
That usher in the winter time, are come. 
Claymount Farm, Nov., 1851. s * 
<XI|c Bluid) 
JACK OF ALL TRADES; 
OE, THE MAN FOR A NEW SETTLEMENT. 
BY GEORGE W. BUNGAY, 
Parson Truman was a modest, unas¬ 
suming person, who disliked mere outside 
display. He was a plain, practical man, a 
ripe scholar, a profound logician, an earnest 
preacher. His knowledge was not bound¬ 
ed by the limits of his library; bis labors 
were not confined to the pulpit: his influ¬ 
ence extended beyond the parish where he 
expounded the Scriptures. 
lie belonged to a class of Christians who 
believed the itinerant system superior to 
any oilier. At the annual conference he 
made no pretty speeches, no platform har¬ 
angues, and was never invited to preach 
the yearly sermon. Year after year, he 
uncomplainingly received his appointment 
to toil on in some remote settlement in the 
backwoods, while men of more confidence, 
but less intellect, more zeal, but less knowl¬ 
edge, more words, but fewer deeds, were 
sent to large towns and large cities, where 
they secured greater audiences, received 
better compensation, had more favorable 
opportunities to improve their minds, and 
win golden opinions of appreciating people. 
Parson Truman had to serve as a law¬ 
yer, physician, teacher, priest, and confiden¬ 
tial friend, in new settlements, where pro¬ 
fessional gentlemen are few and far be¬ 
tween. At the time of which I write, he 
lived in a log house. When at home, he 
spent a part of his leisure time in cultiva¬ 
ting a little patch of ground which belonged 
to the parsonage. Sometimes his little 
farm, as he called it, would be overrun with 
weeds, for his circuit extended several mles, 
and frequently kepi him from home more 
than a week at a time. 
One day he returned and saw the A T eeds 
standing among the vegetables, like Phil¬ 
istines among the Israelites, and he deter¬ 
mined to uproot them and remove them 
from the land. 
“ Wife,” said he, “ I must go to work in 
the garden to-day. If any person calls to 
see me, tell them I am engaged. No per¬ 
son can see me while I am weeding behind 
that regiment of corn stalks.” 
He pulled off his best coat, which had 
been black, rolled up his sleeves, and com¬ 
menced the task before him. Spear-grass, 
big-weeds, sour-plant, and the whole tribe 
of weeds, had taken possession of the little 
strip of land, and looked down contemptu¬ 
ously upon the stunted plants below them. 
It was washing-day, and Mrs. Truman 
was hanging her clothes upon the linen line, 
when a sun-browned woodman, with an 
honest face, inquired if brother Truman 
was at home. 
“ Yes, but be is engaged,” replied the 
dear little^ woman, with a smile, for she 
could be good-natured even on Monday, 
while at work over the wash-tub. Think 
of that, ye Xantipes, who fret, pout, scold, 
and thump away at such times and under 
such circumstances. 
“ If he is at home, I must see him a few 
moments.” 
“ He left positive orders with me to al ! ow 
no one to disturb him.” 
“ I won’t detain him from his studies but 
a short time.” 
“ He is at work in the garden—” 
The man did not stop to hear the con¬ 
clusion of what she said, but unceremon¬ 
iously walked through the gateway, and 
found the good man pulling up weeds as 
though they were unpardonable sins. 
“ Well, brother, I have found you at last. 
My horse is lame, and as you are some¬ 
thing of a doctor, I thought I would ask 
your advice.” 
“ Is he unable to walk or work ?” inquir¬ 
ed the dominie. 
“ He limps about on three legs a little. 
I wish you would step up to our place and 
see him.” 
“ Well, I have agreed to marry a couple 
a short distance beyond your house, and I 
will call on my way to the wedding.” 
In order to make up lost time, the minis¬ 
ter now worked harder than he did before 
he had been interrupted. 
The first caller had not got out of sight, 
when a woman in dishabille, with her dis¬ 
heveled hair streaming over her white face, 
came to the door and asked if the Rev. 
Mr. Truman was at home. 
“ He is at home, but his engagements 
are such that he cannot be interrupted just 
now,” observed his wife. 
“ Oh, dear me, what shall I do ?” ex¬ 
claimed the woman, wi ingingher hands, and 
weeping as though her sufferings were in¬ 
tense, and the minister was the only man 
who could alleviate them. 
“ Wait a moment,” said Mrs. Truman; 
“ I will ask him if he can be seen.” 
“ Husband!” 
“ Well, my dear, what do you want now ?” 
“Here is a women — ” 
“ I cannot help it.” 
“ Hear what I have to say. Here is a 
woman in great distress: she is anxious to 
see you immediately.” 
The parson threw down a handful of 
wicked weeds so suddenly, a stranger might 
have supposed he was angry; but he was 
only a little excited. Perhaps he thought 
the transgressors he was driving from his 
piece of land onght to be cast into outer 
darkness, where they would be burned. 
“ What do you want, my good woman ?” 
he asked, somewhat impatiently. 
“Oh, sir! we have had such a row in 
our settlement! Mrs. Jenkins’ child threw 
a stone, which broke Mrs. Sparkins’ window, 
and Mrs. Sparkins t< Id the child to clear 
out; and when Mrs. Jenkins heard of it, she 
came to Mrs. Sparkins’ house, and told her 
she was no better than she ought to be; 
arid Mrs. Sparkins declared she was; and 
then Mrs. Jenkins said she was a liar; then 
Mrs. Sparkins spat in her face; and then 
Mrs. Jenkins pulled her hair; and then Mrs. 
Sparkins tore the dress oil’ her back; 
and Mrs. Jenkins cried murder, and 1 ran 
after you!” 
“ What were they doing when you came 
away ?” 
“ Pulling hair, sir, and screaming mur¬ 
der!” 
“ What do you expect I can do in such 
a case ?” 
“ Why, preach to them, and bleed them, 
sir, and stop them from going to law,” said 
the frightened woman, who evidently had 
more faith in the minister than she had in 
the gospel. 
“ How far is your settlement from where 
the wedding is to be this evening?” 
“ About a mile sir.” 
“ I will call about seven o’clock.” 
The good man returned to his garden, 
where he had made but little progress: but 
as soon as he had got hold of the enemy, a 
teamster climbed over the fence, and asked 
him if he would be so kind at to put his 
shoulder to the wheel, and give him a lift 
through a mud-hole at the foot of the hill. 
He could not put that off until he went 
to the marriage, so he went to work, and 
while they were jerking and pulling the 
load about, the wagon broke. 
Mr. Truman had a box of tools, and knew 
how to use them. The wagon was soon 
repaired, and the teamster went whistling 
and singing on his way, and the minister 
returned to his garden once more. 
Just as he kneeled down before a boil of 
onions, as though he intended to copy the 
example of the Egyptians, and worship 
them, a loud rap was heard at the door. 
The minister could have wept without rub¬ 
bing his eyes with the onions that stood un¬ 
weeded there; but he resolved to be angry, 
and sin not. 
The door was opened, and there stood 
the class-leader’s son anxious to see Mr. 
Truman. 
Mr. Truman was called into the house. 
“ What do you want, my son?” inquired 
the minister. 
“ Father, wants to borrow the Commen¬ 
tary on Luke, and the last newspaper.” 
“ Wife, get them,” said he; then, turn¬ 
ing to the boy, he remarked: “The next 
time you want anything of that nature, ask 
Mrs. Truman; she can get the books for 
you as well as I can.” 
It was now twelve o’clock; so the minis¬ 
ter thought it best to take a “bit” of victuals. 
He sat down with his wife and child to a 
“ picked up dinner.” Before he rose from 
dinner an Irishman made his appearance, 
and modestly asked if the preacher lived 
there. 
“ Yes,” was the, answer. 
“ Will yer be so kind as to write a letter 
for me to the ould country ?” 
“ By-and-by.” 
“May the blessid Virgin protict ye!” 
“ Take a chair.” 
“ Will ye be afther doing it soon ?” 
“ Right away after dinner.” 
The writing of the letter occupied at 
least an hour, and before he concluded it, 
a pretty little boy came to the ohuse and 
asked for that “shot” he (the preacher) had 
recommended to his sick mother. 
“ Powder, you mean,” said Mr. Truman, 
with "a smile. 
“Yes, sir, I meant to say powder,” re¬ 
plied the lad, blushing to his temples. 
“ Now, husband,” said the good-natured 
wife, “let me persuade you not to go into 
the garden again this afternoon. Stay in 
the house and mend the children’s shoes, 
so that they can go to school to-morrow.” 
He finally made up his mind that it was 
better to sit there in the shade, than to 
stoop out-doors in the sun; so the shoes 
were repaired and the weeds left undisturb¬ 
ed. 
When that job was finished, it was time 
to prepare for the wedding. After per¬ 
forming the duties of barber and boot-black, 
lie turned hostler and saddled his pony, de¬ 
parted in peace, and went on his way re¬ 
joicing. He halted at Blake’s barn, and 
examined the “ lame mare.” 
“ She has a nail in her foot,” said he; 
“ hand me a pair of nippers, and I will re¬ 
move the shoe. Now,” Qontinued the 
preacher, while he stood there with the 
pinchers in one hand and the shoe in the 
other, “bathe the foot with salt and vine¬ 
gar, keep her shut up in the stable, and 
she will be well in a fortnight.” 
After marrying the couple, he mounted 
his pony, turned his face toward the new 
settlement, and put up at the house of a 
Christian brother. He gave directions for 
Mrs. Jenkins, Mrs. Sparkinsand their friends, 
to meet him there. The house was crowd¬ 
ed with the parlies and their acquaintances. 
“Jenkins, did your boy break Mrs, Spar¬ 
kins’ window?” 
“Yes sir.” 
“ Well, Mrs. Jenkins, of course you are 
willing to pay for the window, are you not ?” 
“ Certainly 1 am.” 
“Mrs.. Sparkins, did you spit in Mrs. Jen¬ 
kins’ face ?” 
*• Yes! I did so when I was angry.” 
“ You are sorry for it now, are you not?” 
“ Yes, sir, I am,” shesJd, and then rub¬ 
bed her eyes with one corner of her apron. 
“Do you hear that, Mrs. Jenkins?” 
“I do.” 
“ Will you forgive her?” 
“ With all my heart.” 
“ Now shake hands. God bless you.” 
Mr. Truman returned home another way, 
in order to see the sick woman, and give 
further directions respecting the powders. 
He found the medicine curing the patient, 
and had the good fortune to meet the class- 
leader there, who handed him the paper, 
and promised to return the Commentary 
in a few days. 
When this useful, practical, accommoda¬ 
ting man reached home, he was quite fa¬ 
tigued, but happy to think the day had 
not been spent in vain. One reason why 
he was anxious to weed the garden was, 
because there was to be a donation-party 
at his house the next day, and he did not 
wish to have his premises look as though 
he was slothful and lazy. After a delicious 
sleep and pleasant dreams, the donation 
day arrived. Parson Truman helped his 
wife to provide for a large number of guests. 
He made the fire, pared the potatoes, churn¬ 
ed the butter, watched the oven, scoured 
the knives and forks, and made himself 
generally useful. 
Soon after sunset, the neighbors of dif¬ 
ferent denominations began to arrive.— 
Blake came with one horse hitched to the 
wagon ; the mare that mated the noble ani¬ 
mal he drove, was too lame to travel yet. 
He brought with him a nevy cheese, a quar¬ 
ter of veal, and three or four bushels of 
corn. The sick woman sent her boy with 
a new dress for Mrs. Truman. The class- 
leader brought a side of bacon and a dollar 
in money. Mrs. Sparkins, Mrs. Jenkins, 
and the young window-smasher, came to¬ 
gether and brought a beautiful quilt, the 
result of ihe united labors of the ladies in 
the settlement. The sewing was neatly 
executed. It was originally designed for 
tiic missionaries at Liberia, but some one 
suggested that the climate of Africa was 
warm enough without quilts, so the sewing- 
circle concluded to present it to Mrs. r l ru- 
man. By-and by the teamster came with 
a wagon-load of people from his settlement. 
They came quite a distance, and brought 
money. Their united donations amounted 
to fifteen dollars. The Irishman was on hand. 
He said he had not much to give, but he 
would make himself useful by taking care 
of the horses of other visitors. 
It was a pleasant evening; the moon 
sailed like a ship of light through the calm 
heavens. When tea was over, some of the 
company began to joke with the minister 
respecting the unweeded garden. 
“ Sure an’ we might weed the garden by 
moonlight,” said Pat. 
The company took the hint, and went to 
work most cheerfully. Many hands made 
light work. When the party separated, 
the garden was in good trim, and every 
guest went home with a glad heart. 
The Rev. Mr. Truman remained on that 
circuit two years, and at the expiration of 
that time a petition was sent to the Con¬ 
ference, praying that he might be returned; 
but it was contrary to the usages of that 
body to continue a minister more than two 
years at a time on the same circuit. 
Joe Howel, the teamster, and Mary Simp- 
ion, who ran after the minister when the 
row happened in her settlement, became 
acquainted with each other at the donation- 
party ; ever after that, they attended meet¬ 
ing when Mr. Truman preached in Spar- 
kins’ school house. Just before the good 
man, who was a universal favorite, left that 
oiicuit, he married this couple. Mr. Tru¬ 
man got up into notice bv degrees, and 
has now charge of one of tne best stations 
within the jurisdiction of the Conference. 
He has not forgotten how to mend a pair 
of shoes, repair a broken wagon, dispense 
medicine to the sick, help his wife about 
the house, and act as a peacemaker when 
the hasty in spirit are disposed to quarrel. 
He is just “ the man for a new settlement,” 
or any other situation. 
Wit mih Qtmtfx. 13smtl)s 
THE FLOCK OF TURKEYS- 
That flock of turkeys? where are they? 
The boy who brought them down 
Has gone to play, where he used to play, 
And run around the town. 
Has gone to play where he played that day 
When the turkeys were bespoke; 
When the wind and rain together came, 
And the thunder o’er us broke! 
The roost where the turkeys used to sleep, 
Still stands where it used to stand; 
And the shed whose retreat attracted their feet, 
Is still on the farmer’s land. 
But the jetty wing, a good price that would bring 
On a market day, is gone! 
As the wife’s best gown, which, once in a while, 
Is seen, and then withdrawn. 
Thanksgiving turkey! sainted name! 
The boy who, in his glee, 
Rejoiced in the fame of his turkeys tame. 
Rejoices them cooked to see. 
And the morning sun, o’er the horizon, 
As it rises at early day, 
Still shines where the flock was wont to he; 
But the turkeys—where are they? 
The turkey spirit has not fled! 
It wakes on thanksgiving eve, 
And visits the shed where ’twas born and bred, 
And tells young ones not to grieve. 
It watches the shed where ’twas horn and bred, 
And will guard the turkey r.ace, 
Till a dinner array, on Thanksgiving day, 
Will not give a turkey place. 
APPLE-CUTS. 
Reader, did you ever attend an Apple- 
cut?—one of the regular old-fashioned, 
mass convention apple-cuts? If you have 
ever lived in a new country, you are posted 
up on these matters. How much of fun 
and frolic—how many of right happy hours. 
There is something worth remembering 
about the times we speak of. They speak 
of youthful days and pleasures, when lads 
and lassies ran wild with unfettered sport. 
“ Snap ’em and catch ’em” was not minced 
in those days, or laughter and kissing done 
by rule. And then what lot’s of’em! — 
Every house and cabin gave up its young 
until rude tenements were stuffed to the 
very punkin-poles. On horse-back and on 
foot they came; by singles and by dozens. 
Old bachelors and old maids, stalwart 
young men, and bounteous gentle ones with 
forms of real flesh and blood of no childish 
dimensions. Nor these alone. Even a 
younger strata of little folks flooded in un¬ 
til every corner and ‘ cubby hole’ was filled 
to its utmost. And then the wagging of 
tongues and the cross-firing of tender glan¬ 
ces commenced. 
But we have no time to write a history 
of details now. The last tub-full was pared, 
pans, knives and pealings quickly ‘gathered 
up, all seated that could be after a wash in 
the yard, and the pie was handed around. 
And then came a calm. All shrunk from 
starting a play. At last some wide awake 
girl makes a bold attack upon a fellow, and 
the next moment a couple are circling 
around them as they stand up on the mid¬ 
dle of the floor. The ring fills up. From 
stair-way, bed-side and chimney corner 
they are snapped out, and round and round 
they go, over chairs, across the hearth, pul¬ 
ling calico away, and tearing coats from the 
boys, down on the floor and again on the 
canter, until the whole scene was one of 
glorious, joyous hubbub. How some of 
those girls would run! It was a neck’s 
risk to catch ’em, but when they did turn 
at bay, the way they surrendered—it makes 
our mouth waier to think of it—it does. 
Then the ring was made and strange match¬ 
es were then made. “ The needle’s eye,” “sis¬ 
ter Fhebe,” “old winter,” “scorn,” “hunt 
the thimble,” “blind man’s buff,” and a 
thousand and one good old pastimes, were en¬ 
tered into with an energy and buoyancy of 
feeling which wore the night swiftly on. 
They even pressed the lady of the house 
into the sport, and her matronly cheek was 
gallantly remembered by her young guests. 
Little fellows reached eagerly up after the 
hard-won reward of a long chafee after some 
tall but light-footed girl, and long-legged 
gents stooped down upon plump and pant¬ 
ing specimens of sweetness not “ long 
drawn out.” 
But even apple-cuts must come to an 
end. “ Things” are hustled on, while bash¬ 
ful gallants stand in ludicrous embarrass¬ 
ment with their hats twirling in their hands. 
Trying times! Some are lucky and some 
unlucky. There is a peeping under bonnets 
and an awkward crooking of elbows where 
tongues cannot falter a word. Hearts are 
broken but to heal and be broken again. 
Others beat with strange and mysterious 
exstacy, at sight of a familiar shawl or hood, 
while yet others older and more hardened 
in the process of dreaming, breaking and 
healing, go cozily home in the moonlight, 
and by some open window in the home¬ 
stead, append a second scene to the night’s 
entertainment, and talk and listen and— 
and—continue to talk and listen with heads 
so near together, until a shrill voice from 
the barn puts an end to dreams that are 
not all dreams. Younger fry mount the 
barposts and make themselves merry over 
the conduct of the older and more advanced. 
Commend us to an old-fashioned, mass 
convention apple-cut for uproarious fun, and 
healthy, unstinted kissing, in the “ good old 
days of yore.”— From the Cayuga Chief. 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; \ 
Nothing’s so hard, but search will find it out.” 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am comppsed of 27 letters. 
My 18 3, 3, 21, is what nil should do. ( 
My 1 21, 3, 9, is an article of husbandry. 
My 6 19, 18, 12, 7, is a bird. 
My 10 19, 20, 26, is an animal. ^ 
My 8, 25; 19, 20 is a sort of fruit. ( 
My 14, 8, 19, 20, 3, 9 is a Find of bird. 
My 27, 1C, 22, 23 is a familiar name for domestic ) 
animal. 
My 6, 11, 13 is to expire. 
My 14, 2, 25, 13, 27 is what wc all need. 
My 2, 11, 13 is what we should all abhor. ( 
Ky 17, 3, 16, 25 is a kind of paste. 
My 16, 19.20,18, (jis an njdective. 
My whole is one of the proverbs of Dr. Franklin 
pait cularly applicable to 0 rmrrs. 
Elbridge N. Y. Nov, 10th, 1051. s.m. { 
Answer next week. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
A PUZZLE. 
Punch has favored the world with the following 
song, sung before her majesty by a Chinese lady. ( 
Ohc o metoth etc ashopwit lime, 
Andb uya po undo fthebe st, 
Twi Ilpr oveam ostex cello ntt ea, 
Itsq Ma lit yal Iwi 11a tte st. 
Tiso nlyf oursh ilii ngsnpo und, 
Soc omet olhet eatna rtan dtr y, ( 
Nob ettere nnel sevvb ereb efoti nd, 
Oils ayth cny ou’rer cad yt obu y. 
A BUSINESS TRANSACTION. 
The following pr< blemn is an old one, but it \ 
was recently introduced to a dozen individuals, one < 
of whom answered it correctly. The amount of £ 
loss awarded to the store-keeper has been various- < 
ly estimated—some contending his loss was $100, ) 
including the boots, and other lesser sums. 
A man went into u shoe store ami purchased a ) 
pair of boots for six drfllars, and in payment offered 5 
a fifty dollar hill. The storekeeper, nor having < 
change, went to a neighbor who changed it for him. ) 
The store-keeper settled with his customer, who < 
left with hoots anti money paid him. A short time / 
after his departure, the neighbor calls and tells the ( 
store-keeper that the fifty dollar bill is a counterfit. ; 
Consequently he reimburses the neighbor fifty dol- ) 
lars. The purchaser of the boots having abscond- ( 
ed with the hoots and good money paid him, the ) 
store-keeper .is without resource. 
What is the loss of the store-keeper allowing six , 
dollars for the value of tire boots? 
[O’ Answer next week. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c. IN NO. 99. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma.—A n empty > 
bag cunuot stand upright. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma. — Charles 
S. Eggleston. S 
VOICE OF THE PRESS. 
Rural New-Yorker. —Among our exchanges, there is ) 
none more welcome than the Rural New-Yorker. The ) 
variety and freshness of its columns, constantly remind ? 
one of the green hills, luxuriant meadows and flowery ? 
gardens to which they are mainly devoted. One of its ( 
leading features, aud one we deem important iii all agri- ( 
cultural publications, is an attractive simplicity of style, 
an entire absence of scientific aflcctation on the part of its ( 
correspondents. The selected matter shows a sound judg- ( 
menl and keen discrimination on the part of the enterpris- ) 
ing publisher, that cannot tail to command the respect'of \ 
his contemporaries. Sluggish, indeed, must he the mind > 
that rises from the perusal of its pages, without new ideas ) 
and a consciousness of improvement. If our fanners are } 
desirous of procuring a sheet devoted to agriculture anti 
its kindred subjects, we know of no journal we could ) 
more cordially recommend to their attention.—Chenango / 
News. 
Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. —Itis witit pleasure that ’> 
we call the attention of those who wish a most excellent ; 
paper, to this publication. On the firm, in the family, or ) 
even in the school room, it will Hold a position as a jour- } 
mil of a high order. It is chiefly directed to the agricultu¬ 
ral interest, hut is an admirable general and family news- '( 
paper. It is conducted with enterprise and ability—ever ( 
tilled with the best of matter both useful and entertaining. : 
—Cayuga Chief. 
Independent of its being the very best agricultural paper 
that has ever come under our no ice, its literary merits tire 
unsurpassed. No farmer can take into his house a paper , 
that will he of more benefit to himself, or a more d< lightful ) 
drawing room companion for his with and daughters, it ) 
is certainly the cheapest, as well as the best and most use¬ 
ful paper of the kind we itave ever seen. Each No. con- ) 
tains forty columns of original or well selected Agrictiltu- , 
ral, Horticultural, Scientific. Mechanical, Literary and < 
news matter. It has a large list of well known an > cele¬ 
brated contributors and correspondents. To such of our ( 
readers as wish to have a paper of this kind, we can truly ( 
and conscientiously commend it.—Somerset (Pa.) Whig. ( 
Take it all in nil, we think the Rural decidedly one of 1 
the best newspapers published in the country. It has va- ) 
riety and talent, wit, humor and story, and is always a ) 
welcome visitor to the (ire-side or the study. We think ) 
every body ought to take the Rural. It will pay with ( 
compound interest.—[Penn Yan Democrat. 
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PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY, AT ROCHESTER, BY ) 
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