’Twas not in her mother’s purse, nor yet in any 
other purse whence they could procure it. Still 
Adelaide trusted much to her inventive genius, 
and when she bade Mr. Howland good-night, chat¬ 
ting gayly as she accompanied him to the door, he 
little dreamed how her mind was distracted with 
ways and means by which to dupe him still more 
effectually. 
Three week’s passed away and then as Miss 
Elinor sat one evening with her brother she asked 
him if Mrs. Huntington’s rent were not that day 
due. 
“ Possibly, though I have not given it a tho’t,” 
Mr. Howland answered, his voice indicating that 
he neither deemed it essential for himself to be 
particular or his sister to be troubled about Mrs. 
IIuntingtOn’s rent. 
As far as dollars and cents were concerned, Miss 
Elinor w T as not troubled, though she did think it 
doubtful whether Adelaide would be as prompt as 
Alice had been. But, when, as if to verify a 
proverb not necessary to be repeated here, Ade¬ 
laide came to the door, almost before her brother 
had ceased speaking, she began to think her sus¬ 
picions groundless and her manner was quite con¬ 
ciliatory towards the young lady, who, after 
throwing back her veil of dotted lace and fidgeting 
awhile in her chair, managed to say, “It is very 
humiliating to me, Mr. Howland, to tell you what 
ma says I must. She fully expected that the agent 
who does her business would have sent her money 
ere this, but as he has not, she cannot pay you to¬ 
day. Shall we pack up our things at once?” she 
continued playfully, as she saw the expression on 
Mr. Howland’s face. 
“ Perhaps you had better,” he answered in the 
same strain, continuing in a more sober tone, 
“Tell your mother not to be concerned about the 
rent. It does not matter if ’tis not paid until the 
end of the year!” 
Adelaide drew a relieved breath, while Miss 
Elinor dropped her embroidery and involuntarily 
gave vent to a contemputous “ umph.” 
The sound caught Adelaide’s ear and thinking 
to herself “stingy old thing,— afraid they will lose 
it, I dare say,” she made her call as brief as pos¬ 
sible. Nodding to her civilly as she arose to go, 
blushing deeply to think he had found her sleep¬ 
ing, replied indifferently, “Yes, I found it there, 
and I like your promptness.” 
At that moment Miss Elinor left the room, and 
when she returned, she bore a basket of delicacies 
for the blind man, who, even then, was standing 
in the open door at home and listening anxiously 
for the footsteps which did not often linger so long. 
He heard them at last, and though they were far 
down the street he knew they were her's, and closing 
the door he passed his hands carefully over the 
tea-table, which he himself had arranged, feeling 
almost a childish joy as he thought how surprised 
Alice would be. 
“ Oh, father,” she exclaimed, w r hen at last she 
came bounding in, “ how could you fix it so nicely, 
and only think, Miss Elinor has sent you so many 
good things,—here’s turkey, and cranberry sauce, 
and pie, and cheese, and jelly-cake, and white 
sugar,—and everything! I mean, for once, to eat 
just as much as I want,” and the delighted girl ar¬ 
ranged the tempting viands upon the table, telling 
her father, the while, how pleased Mr. Howland 
was at her promptness. 
“He gave you a receipt, I suppose,” Mr. War¬ 
ren said, and Alice replied, “ Why, no, I never 
thought of a receipt. I’m so sorry,” and in her 
confusion she hit her hand against the hissing 
teapot she had just placed upon the table. 
The slight burn which she received, made her 
handkerchief necessary, and, in feeling for it, she 
touched the little roll which Miss Elinor had 
placed within her pocket. Drawing it forth, and 
examining its contents, she experienced, for an 
instant, sensations similar to those which Benja¬ 
min's brethren may be supposed to have felt when 
the silver cup was found in their possession. 
“ What does it mean ?” she exclaimed, reading 
aloud the receipt and examining the bill, which 
amounted exactly to the quarter’s rent. 
The blind man knew what it meant, and, bowing 
his white head upon his bosom, he silently thank¬ 
ed God who had raised them up friends in their 
sore need. Upon Alice, the surprise produced a 
novel effect, moving her first to laughter and then 
to tears, and, notwithstanding her intention of 
“ once eating as much as she liked,” she forgot to 
taste of the many delicacies spread out so tempt¬ 
ingly before her. In her estimation they were 
almost rich again, and never, perhaps, came sleep 
to her more sweetly than on that night, when she 
knew that the contents of the little box was their's, 
to do with as they pleased. 
Several evenings after this, they were surprised 
by a call from Mr. Howland, who had not visited 
them before since the night when he had found 
Adelaide Huntington there. Thoughts of Alice, 
however, as she lay sleeping on his sister’s lap, 
had haunted him. She was innocent of wrong, he 
THE SNOW SHOWER. 
BY WM. CULLEN BRYANT. 
Stand here by my side and turn, I pray, 
On the lake below thy gentle eyes; 
The clouds hang over it, heavy and grey, 
And dark and silent the water-lies; 
And out of that frozen mist the snow 
In wavering flakeB begins to flow ; 
Flake after flake, 
They sink in the dark and silent lake. 
See how in living swarms they come 
From the chambers beyond that misty veil, 
Some hover awhile in air, and some 
Kush prone from the sky like summer hail, 
All, dropping swiftly or settling slow, 
Meet and arc still in the depths below ; 
Flake after flake, 
Dissolved in the dark and silent lake. 
Here delicate snow-stars, out of the cloud 
Come floating downward in airy play, 
Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd 
That whiten by night the milky way ; 
Their broader and burlier masses fall; 
The sullen water buries them all; 
Flake after flake, 
All drowned in the dark and silent lake. 
And some, as on tender wings they glide 
From their chilly birth cloud, dim and grey, 
Are joined in their fall, and, side by side, 
Come clinging along their unsteady way; 
As friend with friend, or husband with wife 
Makes hand in hand the passage of life; 
Each mated flake 
Soon sinks in the dark and silent lake. 
Lo ! while we are gazing, in swifter haste 
Stream down the snows, till the air is white, 
As, myriads by myriads madly chased, 
They fling themselves from their shadowy height. 
The fair, frail creatures of middle sky, 
What speed they make with their grave so nigh ; 
Flake after flake, 
To lay in the dark and silent lake! 
I see in thy gentle eyes a tear; 
They turn to me in sorrowful thought; 
Thou tliinkest of friends, the good and dear, 
Who were for a time and now are not; 
Like these fair children of cloud and frost, 
They glisten a moment, and then are lost; 
Flake after flake, 
All lost in the dark and silent lake. 
Yet look again, for the clouds divide ; 
A gleam of blue on the water lies; 
And far away, on the mountain side, 
A sunbeam falls from the opening skies. 
But the hurrying host that flew between 
The cloud and the water no more are seen ; 
Flake after flake, 
At rest in the dark and silent lake. 
“Will you go in? ’Tis a long time since you 
were here,” said Adelaide, when at last they 
reached her mother’s door. 
Her invitation was accepted, and the clock struck 
eight ere Mr. Howland arose to leave. Ac¬ 
companying him to the door, Adelaide said, implor¬ 
ingly, “ I trust you will forget our conversation 
concerning those Warren’s. You know I didn t 
really tell you anything.” 
Mr. Howland bowed and walked away, wishing 
in his heart that “she had not told him anything, or 
at least had not created in his mind a suspicion 
against people he had hitherto liked so much. So 
absorbed was he in his meditations that he did not 
at first observe the slender figure which, wrapping 
its thin shawl close around it, came toiling on, but 
when the young girl had reached him and the rude 
north wind blew the brown curls over her white 
face, he knew it was Alice Warren, and his first 
impulse was to offer her his arm and shield her 
from the storm. But Adelaide’s dark insinuations 
were ringing in his ears, and so Alice went on 
alone, while the rain and the sleet beat upon her 
head and the cold penetrated through her half- 
worn shoes, chilling her weary feet, and sending a 
shiver through her frame. But she did not heed 
it,—did not even think of the driving storm, so 
eager was she to be at home, where she could count 
the contents of the little box and see if with the 
money received to-night there were not enough to 
pay the quarter’s rent. 
But the blind man, listening to the storm, knew 
how cold his darling would be, and groping in the 
darkness, he added fresh fuel to the fire, and then 
swept up the hearth, placing her chair a little 
nearer to his own, so it would seem pleasant to her 
when she came. Poor, helpless man! He could 
not see,—nay, he had never seen his child, but he 
could fancy just how bright and beautiful she 
would look, sitting at his side with the fire he had 
made shining on her hair, and when at last she 
came, he elapsed her little red hands between his 
own, rubbing, kissing and pitying them, until he 
felt that they were warm. Then, seated in his 
chair, he listened while she counted the silver coin, 
dropping it piece by piece into his palm and bid¬ 
ding him guess its value by its size. It was all 
numbered at last, and very joyfully Alice said to 
her father, “ There is enough to pay our rent, and 
we have been comfortable, too, thanks to Miss 
Elinor, who has saved us many a shilling by her 
timely acts of charity.” 
Yes, Miss Elinor had been to them a ministering 
angel, and however much she might be disliked at 
the White House on the Hill, she was loved and 
honored at the Brown House in the Hollow, and 
that night when Alice Warren sought her pillow, 
she breathed a prayer for the kind woman who was 
yet to befriend her in more ways than one. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 22 letters. 
My 1, 20,18 is an adverb. 
My 3, 6,15,16 is a fruit of many varieties. 
My 8, 2,16, 5 is a kind of meat. 
My 21, 4,10 is a verb. 
My 7, 9,10,13, 22,16 is a lady’s name. 
My 17, 2, 4 is a part of the foot. 
My 11, 20, 9,17 is one who entertains a stranger. 
My 19, 2 is a call to excite attention. 
My 14,15,17 is to devour. 
My 10,12,15,16 is to pull in pieces. 
My whole is a maxim. _ Lois J. Parker. 
Pultney, Steu. Co., N. Y., 1859. 
gW* Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MECHANICAL PROBLEM. 
With what velocity must a cannon ball be projected 
from the summit of a mountain five miles high, that it 
may pass around the earth in a circular orbit, the resist¬ 
ance of the air not being taken into account? 
Madison University, N. Y., 1859. A. B. Evans. 
£35“ Answer in two weeks. 
Selected for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
RIDDLE. 
Beneath the Heavens a certain one did dwell, 
As sacred writers uncontestcd tell, 
Within this world his vital breath he drew, 
Yet never sinned nor moral evil knew, 
lie never shall be raised from the dead, 
Nor at the day of .Judgment raise liis head. 
He never shall be doomed to suffer pains of hell, 
Nor yet in Heaven’s Kingdom dwell; 
Y r et in him there was a soul that must 
Suffer in hell, or reign among the just. 
Maple Grove, N. Y., 1859. D. r J 
£35“ Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
My first is a dweller on the seas, 
With flog unfurled to catch the breeze; 
My second was with Noah in the Ark, 
But may be found in market or in pork ; 
My third is a youthful leader and chief, 
Who in many hearts has caused lasting grief; 
My whole is of man and woman the basest deciever, 
Although in religion a pretended believer. 
Wauwatosa, Wis., 1859. A. B. 
Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PUZZLE. 
Find four legal American coins which, when added 
up shall amount to fifty-one cents. Jui.en. 
Monroe Co., N. Y., 1853. 
£§> 7 “ Answer in two weeks. 
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 18o8, by 
1). D. T. Moore, in the Office of the Clerk of the District 
Court for the Northern District of New York. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, Ac., IN No. 469, 
ALICE AND ADELAIDE 
Answer to Scriptural Enigma:—God with us—Taken 
from earth—God is my judge—That which oppresses— 
Hidden—Joyful—Exalted—Given—A worker—Filled— 
Asked of God—Peaceful—Strength ; all combining the 
following portion of the 119th Psalm:—Thy word is a 
lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—Length of ladder, 
180 .493254 feet; distance of foot from Highest tower, 
170.228713 feet; from second tower, 173.429567 feet; 
from lowest tower, 176 .005155 feet. 
Answer to Geographical Anagram:—The city is in 
China ; its name, Teeshoo-Loomboo. 
BY MRS. MARY J. HOLMES. 
laide, he persisted in saying she was the most 
agreeable and intelligent girl in Oakland. It was 
in vain that she told him of the wristband, saying 
“ she presumed they sewed secretly for a living.” 
He only smiled incredulously, telling her, how¬ 
ever, that “he should like Adelaide all the better, 
if he found she was skilled in shirt-making." 
In short, Miss Elinor began to have some well- 
founded fears that she should yet have an opportu¬ 
nity of making that house uncomfortable, both to 
herself and the wife her brother might bring there, 
and it was this reflection which made her so ner¬ 
vous as she sat there alone that pleasant March 
afternoon. 
“I would rather he should marry little Alice 
Warren,— blind father and all,” she thought, just 
as the door opened softly, and “little Alice War¬ 
ren ” stood within the room. 
“ She had been to the store to see Mr. Howland,” 
she said, “and as he was not there she had come 
to the house, hoping to find him, for she would 
rather give the money into his hand, and know 
there was no mistake.” 
“ What money, child ?” asked Miss Elinor, and 
Alice replied that “ it was pay-day ,” at the same 
time opening the little box and showing her the 
pieces of money she had saved from her earnings. 
Miss Elinor did not know of the receipt lying 
in her brother’s writing-desk, but she resolved 
that not a penny should be taken from that box, 
and bidding Alice be seated on a little stool at her 
feet, she told her to wait until her brother came. 
Then, when she saw how languid and tired Alice 
seemed, she laid her head upon her lap, smoothing 
the long, brown curls until the weary girl fell asleep, 
dreaming that ’twas her mother’s hand which thus 
so tenderly caressed her hair. For half an hour 
she slumbered on, and then Mr. Howland came, 
treading carefully and speaking low, as his sister, 
pointing to the sleeping girl, bade him not to wake 
her. 
“Look at her, though. Isn’t she pretty?” she 
whispered, and Mr. Howland, gazing upon that 
fair, childish face, felt that he had seldom seen a 
more beautiful picture. 
In a few words Miss Elinor told why she was 
there, adding, in conclusion, “ but you won’t take 
it of course. You are rich enough without it, and 
’twill do them so much good.” 
“ I never intended to take it,” answered Mr. 
Howland, and going to his library, he soon re¬ 
turned with the receipt, which he laid within the 
box. 
Just then a new idea presented itself to the mind 
of Miss Elinor. They would change the silver, 
she said, into a bill, which they could roll up with 
the receipt and place in Alice’s pocket while she 
slept. This plan met with her brother’s approval, 
and when at last Alice awoke, the box was empty, 
while Mr. Howland, to whom she told her errand, 
[Continued from page 20, last number.] 
Chapter V.—Calls. 
“ I wish I had gone home before,” was the first 
thought of Adelaide, who did not care to be seen 
there by Mr. Howland. It might lead to some in¬ 
quiries which she would rather should not be made. 
Still, there was now no escape, and trusting much 
to the promise of the Warrens, she stepped back 
from the door just as Mr. Howland opened it. He 
seemed greatly surprised at finding her there, and 
still more surprised when he learned that they were 
old acquaintances. 
“ It is kind in her not to desert them in their 
poverty,” he thought, and his manner was still 
more considerate towards Adelaide, who, after 
standing a few moments, made another attempt to 
go. “Wait, Miss Huntington,” said he, it was 
both raining and snowing when I came in, and 
yon will need an umbrella.” 
This was just what Adelaide wanted, and taking 
a seat she waited patiently until Mr. Howland 
signified his readiness to go. Then, bidding Alice 
good-night, she whispered to her softly, “You 
never will say a word of father, will you ?” 
“Certainly not,” was Alice’s answer, and in 
another moment Adelaide was in the street walk¬ 
ing arm in arm with Mr. Howland, who began to 
speak of the Warren’s and their extreme poverty. 
“ It is evident they have seen better days,” he 
said, “but they never seem willing to speak of the 
past. Did he meet with a reverse of fortune ?” 
• For a moment Adelaide was silent, while she 
revolved the propriety of sayiDg what she finally 
did say, and which was,—“ Ye-es,—they met with 
reverses, but as they are unwilling to talk about it, 
I, too, had better say nothing of a matter which 
cannot now be helped.” 
“ Certainly not, if it would be to their detriment,” 
said Mr. Howland, a painful suspicion entering 
his mind. 
Hitherto he had regarded Mr. Warren as the 
soul of integrity, but Adelaide’s manner, even 
more than her words, implied that there was some¬ 
thing wrong, and hardly knowing what he said, he 
continued,—“Was it anything dishonorable?” 
“ If you please, I would rather say nothing about 
it,” answered Adelaide. “ I don’t wish to do them 
harm, and I dare say they regret it more than any 
one else can do.” 
Mentally pronouncing her a “very prudent, con¬ 
scientious girl,” Mr. Howland walked on in silence, 
f feeling the while that something was taken from 
1 him. He had become greatly interested in the 
^ helpless old blind man, and in his writing-desk at 
f home was a receipt in full for the first quarter’s 
& rent, then due in a few days. But Mr. Howland 
& was a man of stern integrity, hating anything like 
“ There is something wrong, or they would not 
be so unwilling to talk of their former life,” Mr. 
Howland thought, and, with his suspicions 
strengthened, he soon took his leave, stopping by 
the way to call on Adelaide, whose eyes beamed a 
joyous welcome as he entered the parlor, that be¬ 
ing the place where she now received his frequent 
calls. 
Her mother was in the way in the sitting-room, 
she said, and whenever she had reason for expect¬ 
ing him, she made a fire in the parlor, shutting up 
the stove and turning down the lamp until the 
ringing of the bell announced his arrival; then, 
while old Peggy hobbled to the door, she opened 
the draught and turned up the lamp, so that by 
the time Mr. Howland was ushered in, everything 
looked cheerful and inviting. By this means, too, 
she escaped another annoyance, that of being 
urged to play; for, if Mr. Howland did not see 
the piano, he was not as likely to ask her to sing, 
and she had already'nearly exhausted her powers 
of invention in excuses for her indifferent playing 
and the style of her music. 
“ Ma insisted upon her taking old pieces,” she 
said, “ but by-and-by, when she had a new piano, 
she should do differently.” 
Fortunately for her Mr. Howland was not a 
musical man and was thus more easily deceived.— 
On the evening of which we are speaking, after 
listening awhile to her sprightly remarks, he sud¬ 
denly changed the conversation by saying he had 
been to see Mr. Warren, “and he told me,” said 
he, “ that he once did business with your father.” 
Turning her face away to hide its startled ex¬ 
pression Adelaide asked hastily, “What else did 
he tell you ?” 
“Nothing,” returned Mr. Howland. “He would 
not talk of the past.” 
“I should not suppose he would,” quickly re¬ 
joined Adelaide, —then, after a moment, coming to 
his side, she continued, “ Mr. Howland, I wish 
you would promise never to mention that subject 
again, either to me, or those "Warrens. It can do 
no good, and a knowledge of the truth might 
illoorc’s Hurd ^eui-ljorker, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Weekly, 
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D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
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tOit ntti) Cjuiuor 
A good story is told of a fellow in Ohio driving 
a crazy one horse wagon over a railroad track. He 
was run into by the locomotive, his vehicle demol¬ 
ished, and himself landed, unhurt, about two rods 
from the scene of the disaster. The engineer 
stopped the train to see if any one was killed. 
“ Well, friend,” said he to the fellow, “ are you 
badly hurt?” The reply, Yankee like, was by an¬ 
other question, long drawn out. “Will—you— 
s-e-t-t-l-c now, or—wait till—till morning?” 
PUBLISHER’S SPECIAL NOTICES. 
Mr. Snub perceived that the milk that he was 
pouring into his coffee-cup was none of the richest. 
On this ho said to his hostess :—“ Haven’t you any 
milk that is more cheerful than this?” “ What do 
you mean by that?” “ Why, this milk seems over¬ 
powered by the blues." 
Z3T The Money We Receive.— Bills on all solvent Banks 
in the U. S. and Canada taken at par on subscriptions to the 
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Non - Subscribers who receive this number of the Rural 
New-Yorker, are invited to give it a careful examination, 
and, If approved, lend their kind offices to introduce the 
paper to notice aud support in their respective localities. 
“Many a young lady who objects to being kissed 
under the mistletoe, has no objection to being 
kissed under the rose.” A stupid compositor once 
made an error in the above, rendering it so as to 
say, “ has no objection to being kissed under the 
nose.” 
What is the difference between attempted homi¬ 
cide and a hog-butchery? One is an assault with 
intent to kill, and the other is a kill with intent to 
salt. 
Although ODe swallow will not make a summer, 
still a pin, maliciously inverted in a chair, will 
make one spring. 
