I 
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Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
TO FORG-ET-TO REMEMBER. 
BY I. M. BKEBEB. 
To forget that we’re lived, 
To forget that we’ve loved, 
That our hearts have been grieved, 
Our sorrows been moved; 
That falsity reigns 
Like a king on the earth. 
That troubles and pains 
Are the offspring of birth; 
That hearts are untruthful, 
That passions are wild, 
That lessons are useful, 
But when reconciled 
To time, joy and sense, 
And present delight, 
The heart driving hence 
The question of right— 
That honor lies covered 
By clouds of deceit, 
Where sun-rays are smothered. 
Though never so fleet — 
That justice is coward, 
Its voice ever still, 
Its action untoward 
At policy’s will,— 
That truth crawls on earth, 
Like a vile, hated thing, 
Well known for its worth, 
Well feared for its sting! 
To forget that each light 
Bears a dark spot within, 
And that each falling night 
Is a seal to our sin, 
Were a Joy in the heart 
Drawn from gladness’ deep well. 
That would bid care depart, 
And happiness dwell; 
But yet if with dross 
We lose bright flakes of snow. 
Our gain is all loss, 
To forget is but woe. 
To remember the good 
That drops in our way, 
The blessings that flowed 
Wherever we stray, 
The sunlight whose kiss 
Fills our weak, trembling frame, 
With an ecstatic bliss, 
With a pure holy flame,— 
The soft, dreamy night, 
With the stars and the moon 
That shed down their light 
Like a gentle perfume; 
The earth and the sky, 
And the forest and grove, 
That draw the heart nigh 
To the Great Heart of Love - 
And the friends that throng near, 
Sweet time to employ, 
In sharing each tear 
Iu doubling each joy ; 
And the broad, arching pile 
When lit up by the sun, 
So like to the smile 
Of the Infinite One; 
Oh, to realize the joy 
We’ve had from our birth, 
And how slight the alloy 
Of nature and earth ! 
, IIow fair every flower, 
Ilow green every sod, 
How sweet every hour, 
How blessed by our God ! 
Watertown, N. Y., 1859. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HOWARD STREET. 
BY NETTIE. 
The long walk down town from MadiBon street, 
where Mrs. Jefferson lived, could be very much 
shortened by passing through a dirty alley, desig¬ 
nated “ Howard Street.” Mrs. Jefferson seldom 
availed herself of the advantage this “ across way” 
offered; but one day, being in great haste, she said 
to herself, “I think I will venture to go through 
that filthy lane.” 
Accordingly she drew down her face to its great¬ 
est possible length, and with a frown on her brow, 
set her pretty gaitered foot on the dirty walk. 
Passing along, bewailing the necessity which 
subjected her to the annoyance of such miserable 
spectacles and offensive odors, she approached a 
group of boys amusing themselves with pop-guns. 
Half a dozen voices shouted “Pop goes the 
weasel!” and the potato from the guns of the 
accurate marksmen came in contact with Mrs. 
Jefferson’s nose. Darker grew the frown on her 
brow, and darker still as she received unmistaka¬ 
ble evidences that the next aim was taken at her 
back. An expression of disgust mingled with 
Mrs. Jefferson’s frown as she discovered a dirty 
little child smiling at her through a cobweb- 
curtained window. The baby’s sister saw the look 
on her face, and treated her to a splash from a 
mud-puddle by the door. 
“You nasty thing!” said Mrs. J., but she was 
answered by another splash, and hurried on. 
Some boys were making miniature locomotives 
of mud on the walk. They did not observe the 
lady’s approach until her fretful voice inquired, 
“Can I pass?” 
“ Yes! je3t as quick as we get this injine done,” 
said one. 
“ Let her go by, Bill;” only don’t tip the cars 
over with your hoops,” said another. The boys 
considered this a very witty remark, and they sent 
forth long and boisterous shouts, which were any¬ 
thing hut musical. 
Howard street was full of dirty, ragged, saucy 
children, and it needed only a passing glance to 
see that they lived in places too filthy to be hon¬ 
ored with the name of home. Mrs. Jefferson 
was glad enough when she reached the broad, 
decent thoroughfare; she tried to put on a cheer¬ 
ful, pleasant face; but she could not help seeing 
the mud-splashes on her dress,— she feared the 
potato from the pop-guns had left its mark on her 
face, and her pretty gaiter boots had not been at 
all improved by contact with the dirt- The faces 
of “those horrid ehildren” seemed to haunt 
her, too. 
She went home by the “furthest way round,” 
resolved, whatever her haste might be, never 
again to try to save time by passing through 
Howard street. Just behind her tripped along 
her little neighbor, Mrs. Baldwin. 
“Rather uninviting,” she said to herself, as her 
happy face looked down the dingy alley,” “but I’ll 
try and see how many smiles I can get from the 
dirty little folks.” 
With a grateful feeling in her heart that God 
had drawn her lines for her in pleasant places, she 
reached the pop-gun marksmen, who had just 
taken such successful aim at Mrs. Jefferson. 
“Now for my smiles,” thought Mrs. Baldwin, 
and she greeted the boys with such a frank and 
genial look that she won pleasant answering 
smiles from all of them hut one. He was so busy 
getting his pop-gun into shooting order, that he 
did not see her face until the other boys exclaimed, 
“ nold on 1 Tom ! Don’t shoot that lady.” 
Tom looked up with an expression which said, 
«I w ill if I have a mind to,” but the lady gave him 
such a merry smile, that he drew back a little, and 
Mrs. Baldwin heard him say, 
“Well, I’d rather not shoot her, I reckon!” 
The dirty Kaby was still peeping through the 
cobwebs. He caught a glimpse of the sunshiny 
face, and instantly commenced such a crowing 
and capering that the lady had to stop and look at 
him, and said, aloud, 
“What a dear baby you are.” Baby’s sister 
saw the admiring loek and heard the praise be¬ 
stowed, and she hurried to the door, broom in 
hand, not this time to improvise a shower from 
the mud-puddle, but she said, 
“ The walk is so dirty for your nice dress I want 
to brush it off for you.” 
The little engine-makers were engrossed with 
their mud toys, and hesitated about leaving their 
play long enough to let the lady pass, but she said, 
pleasantly, 
“ These are very Dice locomotives, boys; I’ll try 
and not come in collision with them.” 
The boys made way for her right quickly, and 
from the lips of more than one of them, came a 
“Beg pardon, madam.” 
Every little child was ready to give back smile 
for smile, and it was with a face perfectly radiant 
with happiness that she greeted her friends as she 
passed down Main street. Mrs. Baldwin told her 
husband all about her walk and her adventure, 
and he, (silly fellow,) kissed her and said, “Bless 
your dear heart, wife! You are a perfect little 
sunbeam. Who, besides you, could find anything 
but wretchedness in Howard street?” 
Mrs. Jefferson thought she would never go 
near the dirty alley again, but on talking with 
some of the ladies of a benevolent association 
about, the degradation of its inhabitants, she con¬ 
sented, after considerable urging, to go as a 
missionary to the “poor miserable creatures.” 
She supplied herself with a bundle of tracts, and 
taking care to wear clothing which would suffer 
least injury from dirt, she sallied forth on her 
mission. 
“ Dear! dear! me !” she said, a3 she entered a 
wretched domicil,—“I should think you would 
infect the whole city with fevers and cholera! 
Don’t you know it is shamefully wicked for you to 
be so dirty ? Are you a friend of the Savior?” she 
added, in a solemn tone. 
“ I don’t want to be, if you are,” was the reply. 
“Here are some tracts I would like to have you 
read, if you can.” 
The woman snatched the tracts from her hand, 
tore them iu pieces, and threw them into her 
visitor’s face. 
Shaking the dust from her feet., Mrs. Jefferson 
passed from one dwelling to another, making simi¬ 
lar remarks, and meeting with a similar reception. 
“ Here comes that cross woman who looked so 
ugly at baby,” said baby’s sister and cbampioD, 
and she slammed the door in Mrs. Jefferson’s 
face. 
“ I should think you would be sick, and I should 
think your husband would drink,” said Mrs. J. to 
a pale, feeble-looking woman. “ I am not sur¬ 
prised at it, at all. You oughtn’t to live in this 
miserable way.” She did her duty distributing 
her tracts, but she had the satisfaction of seeing 
the most of them follow her into the street, and 
the rest were consigned to the flames. 
“Those creatures are hopelessly depraved,” 
said Mrs. Jefferson. “There’s no use in trying 
to do anything for Howard street.” 
Mrs. Baldwin could not help feeling an interest 
in the children who responded so readily to her 
kind looks, and so, without telling even Mr. 
Baldwin what she proposed to do, she set out to 
make some calls among them. She thought she 
would call first where the baby lived, for she felt 
quite sure of a kind reception there. ’Twas a 
right joyful welcome they gave her, for baby’s 
sister exclamed, “ 0! here is the pleasant lady 
who stopped to look at Patsey the other day! Oh! 
she’s comiDg right in here!” 
“ It’s too dirty a place for the like of ye,” said 
Patsey’s mother. 
“Never mind,” said our sunshiny Mrs. Bald¬ 
win, “ I felt like dropping iu, and thought I would 
take the liberty.” 
“Bless ye for it! hut I am ashamed to have a 
rale lady see my house. Things didn’t use to go 
so wid me! No, indade!” and the poor woman 
poured her life’s history into the stranger’s ear. 
Tears filled the listener’s loving eyes, and she 
replied,—“I think lean understand your feelings, 
my good woman. A poor, weary body must require 
rest after she has been out over a wash-tub all the 
day—but this smart little girl who swept the walk 
so nicely for me the other day, could make a capi¬ 
tal housekeeper, I am sure. Won’t you try it, my 
little girl ? Won’t you find a place for everything, 
and scrub everything up clean, and keep the house 
nice and tidy ? Try ! so when I call again Lean 
say, ‘How nice you look here?’ Wash jour dear 
little baby-brother’s face, and brush his hair and 
have his clothirig clean, and I shall love to tend 
and kiss him, for he is a beautiful baby, I think.” 
Mrs. Baldwin called upon every family in How¬ 
ard street that afternoon. None treated her rudely, 
and many opened their hearts to her as the babj’s 
I mother had done. They promised to follow the 
kind advice she offered, while her tears fell with 
theirs, and the kind look and encouraging words 
left sunbeams in the cheerless homes after she had 
gone. 
In two or three weeks Mrs. Baldwin called 
again. Baby’s sister bounded to meet her, ex¬ 
claiming with delight, “ The sweet lady has come 
at last! she’s come at last!” 
The “sweet lady” could hardly believe it was 
the same place where she called before. The cob¬ 
webs had been brushed down. The old broom, 
instead of doing service in the mud-puddle, had 
swept and scrubbed the floor. Everything was in 
order. A few weeds and common flowers formed 
a boquet for the table, and the crowing, capering 
baby was perfectly bewitching in his wholesome 
cleanliness. 
“Well done! my brave little girl! I hope you 
will keep on.” 
“ Keep on ? Indade, and I will keep on, ma’am! 
Father says he wont stay away nights as long as 
everything is so nice and pleasant here — and 
mother says she can rest a great deal better when 
she comes home, and her face looks so happy, too! 
0! aint it nice to be clean ?” 
Some had failed to carry out their plans of 
reform, but others had succeeded and testified to 
the delights of a neat, orderly home. The indolent 
and discouraged housekeepers were roused by the 
good example of their neighbors, and one by one 
they followed suit until at length the little leaven 
had leavened the whole lump. 
After two or three such friendly visits, Mrs. 
Baldwin took some tracts with her. They were 
not only kindly received, but different families 
met together to hear them read,—not so much for 
the good they might get as for the kind lady’s 
sake. The tracts produced good effects, however, 
and from time to time there were added to the 
various city churches from the inhabitants of 
Howard street, of such as shall be saved. * * * 
It was two years ago that Mrs. B. made her first 
call in the dirty alley, aud now the walk which 
shortened the way down town is lined with neat 
cottages, with flowers in the yards and vines 
curtaining the windows, — the homes of sober, 
contented, working men and women. Mrs. Jeffer¬ 
son wonders, with many others, what can have 
wrought such happy changes. Mrs. Baldwin has 
never blazoned her successful work abroad, but 
she thanks God that He made her the humble 
instrument of beginning the good work in Howard 
street. 
SALMAGUNDI. 
To love, is everything; love is God.— Leon 
Gozlan. 
Ouu powers owe much of their energy to our 
hopes.— Johnson. 
Slight small injuries and they will become none. 
— Fuller. 
Love is precisely to the moral nature what the 
sun is to the earth.— Balzac. 
It is strange how soon, when a great man dies, 
his place is filled.— Aonofellow. 
Life is a sleep, low is a dream; and you have 
lived, if you have loved.— Alfred de Musset. 
He that calls a man ungrateful sums up all the 
evil that a man can be guilty of.— Swift. 
Pleasure and pain spring not so much from the 
nature of things as from our manner of consider¬ 
ing them.— Bovee. 
“A man is, in general, better pleased,” says Dr. 
Johnson, “ when he has a good dinner upon the 
table, than when his wife talks Greek.” 
A man feels relieved and gay when he has put 
his heart into bis work and done his best; but 
what he has said or done otherwise shall give him 
no peace. 
Place an inferior character in contact with the 
finest circumstances, and from wanting affinities 
with them, he will still remain, from no fault of 
his own, insensible to their attractions. 
In literature and in love, we generally begin in 
bad taste. By experience and observation, we 
become sensible to the charms of the simple and 
unaffected, both in belles and belles lettres. 
True love is a natural sacrament; and if ever a 
young man thanks God for having saved what is 
noble and manly in his soul, it is when he thinks 
of offering it to the woman he loves.— Mrs. Stowe. 
Titus Vespasian never dismissed any petitioner 
with a tear in his eye, or with a heavy heart; and 
shall we think that the God of compassions will 
always dismiss the petitioners of heaven with 
tears in their eyes ? Surely no. 
Everybody sits in judgment on a dirty sin ; but 
clean it, dress it, and polish it, and there are ten 
thousand people who think it not so sinful after 
all. It is ragged iniquity that is sinful; burnished 
iniquity is not so wicked as men think.— II. W. 
Beecher. 
Teach your child as lovingly to accept different 
forms of religion among men as their different 
languages, wherein there is still but one human 
mind expressed. Every genius has most power 
in his own tongue, and every heart in its own 
religion.— Jean Paul Richter. 
Men who concentrate themselves all upon one 
point may be sharp, acute, puDgent—they may 
have spear-like force of character, but they are 
never broad and round, never of full-proportioned 
manhood; which can only be obtained by the car¬ 
rying forward of the whole of a man in an even¬ 
breasted inarch. 
A woman must be very insensible who is not 
moved to come upon a higher plane of being her¬ 
self, by seeing how undoubtingly she is insphered 
in the heart of a good and noble man. A good 
man’s faith in you, fair lady, if you ever have it, 
will make you better and nobler, even before you 
know it.— Mrs. Stowe. 
For once that secrecy is formally imposed upon 
you, it is implied a hundred times by the concur¬ 
rent circumstances. All that your friend says to 
you, as to his friend, is entrusted to you only. 
Much of what man tells you in the hour of afflic¬ 
tion, in sudden anger, or in any outpouring of his 
heart, should be sacred. In his craving for sym¬ 
pathy, he has spoken to you as to his own soul.— 
Fruits of Leisure-. 
LOVE-ITS PURITY AND POWER. 
How bright and beautiful is love in its hour of 
purity and innocence—how mysteriously does it 
etherialize every feeling and concentrate every 
wild and bewildered impulse of the heart. Love, 
holy and mysterious love—it is the garland spring 
of life—the dream of the heart—the poetry of 
nature. Its song is heard in the rude hut of the 
poor as well as the gorgeous palace of the rich— 
its flames embellish the solitude of the forest, and 
the thronged haunts of busy life, and its light 
imparts a brilliancy to every heart, no matter what 
may be its condition. 
Love—pure, holy and devoted love—can never 
change. Friends may forsake us—the riches of 
this world may soar away, but the heart that 
loves will cling closer as louder roars the storm, 
and amid the wreck ot the tempest it will serve 
as a “ beacon ” to light us on to hope and happi¬ 
ness. 
Love is the mystic and unseen spell that soothes 
the wild and rugged tendencies of human nature 
—that lingers about the sanctity of the fireside 
and unites in closer union the affections of society, 
and the soul that loves truly will love forever. 
Not like the waves of the oceaD, nor traced in 
sand, is the image impressed upon a loving heart. 
No, no—but it will burn on, undefaced its lustre 
amid the quick rush of winds, and the warring of 
the tempest cloud—and when our fate seems dark 
and - dreary, then will love seek shelter in her own 
hallowed temple; and offer up as a sacrifice her 
vows and her affections. 
About Life.— If it is well for a man to live at 
all, he should endeavor to avoid all those influ¬ 
ences which detract from the beauty and har¬ 
mony of human existence. In other words, he 
should “make the most of life,” and not allow 
himself to be distracted, annoyed, or confounded 
by anything. He should fully possess himEelf, 
being at peace with his own soul, and having a 
great good will for all mankind. Life, then, will 
have a beautiful significance to him; its current 
will be deep and flow gently od, —iu all the beau¬ 
ties of the world reflected. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 80 letters. 
My 1, 4, 23, 5, 8 is a county in Kentucky. 
My 2, 26,15,14, 29, 9 is a river in Texas. 
My 8, 4, 23,23, 80 is a county in Illinois. 
My 4, 7, 27 is a river in Russia. , 
My 5,10,16,1 is one of the United States. 
My 6, 21, 8,18, 2 is a city in Italy. 
My 7,17,14,19 is a lake in Scotland. 
My 8, 26, 9,19 is a county in Indiana. 
My 9,14, 20, 6,18 is a county in Iowa. 
My 10, 4,15, 30 is a river in Prussia. 
My 11, 8, 23, 2,14, 29 is one of the most powerful States 
of Europe. 
My 12, 21,17, 27,18 is a river in Georgia. 
My 13, 20, 2, 5,1 is a county in Michigan. 
My 14, 23, 27, 6,10, 2 is a city in China. 
My 15, 8, 13, 29 is a city in Pennsylvania. 
My 16, 20, 24, 12 is a river in Wisconsin. 
My 17,18, 23, 9 14, 23 is a lake in Minnesota. 
My IS, 15, 24,11,1,18, 8 is a county in Georgia. 
My 19,10, 26 v 9, 6, 20, 27 is a city in Texas. 
My 20,19, 17, 25 is a river that empties into the Missis¬ 
sippi. 
My 21, 6, 5,14,1 is a city in New York. 
My 22, 23, 26, 27,18,10, 2 is a river in Massachusetts. 
My 23, 27, 9, 20, 27 is a county in North Carolina. 
My 24, 20,17, 30,15 is a river in France. 
My 25, S, 1, 27, 28, 8 is a county in N. Y. 
My 26, 2, 5, 7, 27 is a county in Louisiana. 
My 27,13,14, 20,2-1, 24, 29, 18 is a lake in Utah. 
My 28, 8,15, 8, 2 is a river in Kentucky. 
My 29, 27, 9 is a river in Austria. 
My 80,19,15, 6, 22 is a lake in California. 
My whole is a rarity. 
Cadiz, Catt. Co., N. Y., 1S59. Hjsnbi. 
J3F” Answer in tw# - weeks. 
Por Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
it anit £)n m0r. 
SATISFACTORY-OR OUGHT TO EE. 
It appears that in a certain town in Wiscon¬ 
sin, a proposition was made to invite Brown, of 
the Wisconsin Chief, to deliver a temperance 
address. Some objections were made, three of 
which we subjoin, with the editor’s plea of guilty 
to them all: 
“ Brown is mercenary—will not go to talk temper¬ 
ance withoutpay 
Guilty ! We have a large sum invested in gratu¬ 
itous reform labor, and now retire on the income. 
Our bank account of “ good wishes and votes of 
thanks ” show several millions in our favor, and 
we are above the necessity of lecturing and foot¬ 
ing our own bills. We are now speculating—put¬ 
ting potatoes in the ground and enjoying the 
increase. 
‘ lie is rich, and lives in a palace at the Oaks." 
All truth. We are one of the nabobs. Like the 
fellow who would have four chip-mucks when he 
killed the one he was after, and three more, so we 
shall have some land when we get it. Our palace 
is principally pine, 22x23, one story, and most 
sumptuously furnished. It is neither plastered, 
papered or painted inside—such furnishing is too 
plebian. We use stove-pipe for chimney, and our 
parlor for hall, reception-room, dining-room, kitch¬ 
en, library, sanctum, wash-room, place to spank 
the children, etc., etc. Our Brussels ingrain is 
made of old coat-skirts, shirt-tails, dilapidated 
pants, and other things too numerous to mention. 
Our furniture is common cherry, and our chairs 
are bottomed with cat-tail flags. Our spoons are 
mostly pewter—silver being rather common. Our 
chattels personal run up to the handsome figure 
of several millions. 
One wife, value not to be computed. 
Three young ’uns, ditto. 
Three pigs. $2 75 
Twelve hens, and more hatching (not paid or 
price known.) 
One cat and four kittens. 5 00 
Two cows, and a calf in prospect. 50 00 
Two jack knives. 2 50 
One-quarter acre strawberries.5,000 00 
The above, with little matters, divers and sun- 
dry, give figures with spasms when the total is 
enumerated. We dare not go into details for fear 
of robbery. If Bro.- expects a man of such 
means to go and talk temperance, he will be disap¬ 
pointed. We are growing more and more merce¬ 
nary every dey. We shall add three more pigs to 
our sty, and push the setting hens to their utmost. 
And if our farrow cow should add another calf to 
our horned stock, we shall be’ above lecturing 
entirely. 
11 He struts about the farm and plays the lord in 
broadcloth." 
A fact. Our home rig was once broadcloth, 
though badly ventilated now. Rents raDge from 
the knee upwards. Our hat is straw, and now iu 
its fourth summer’s wear. Our shoes and kids-came 
with us into the world. And when we walk among 
the Lawtons, Catawissas, Houghton’s Seedlings, 
the spacious strawberry patches, and look upon 
two apples and a half a dozen pears, one quart of 
currants at least, several gooseberries and as many 
raspberries, we do feel like a lord, and above the 
benevolent business of lecturiug and paying our 
own expenses for a vote of thanks. 
A Tender Reproof. —A little boy bad one day 
done wrong, and was sent, after maternal correc¬ 
tion, to ask in secret the forgiveness of his 
Heavenly Father. His offence had been passion. 
Anxious to bear what he would say, his mother 
followed to the door of his room. In lisping 
accents she heard him ask to be made better, 
never to be angry again, and then, with childlike 
simplicity, he added, "Lord, make ma’s temper 
better, too." 
Scottish Kings. —An Irish clergyman having 
gone to visit the portraits of the Scottish kings 
in Holyrood House, observed one of the monarch. 5 ) 
of a very youthful appearance, while his son was 
depicted with a long beard, and wore the traits 
of extreme old age. “Sancta Maria!” exclaimed 
the good Hibernian, “ is it possible that this 
gentleman was an old man when his father was 
born ?” 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 22 letters. 
My 1, 2, 3 is an eatable. 
My 4, 6,15 is the end. 
My 7, 6, 8,10 Is a situation. 
My 9, 20,15 is a joint. 
My 11,12,14 is a wager. 
My 16, 5,10 is a kind of grain. 
My 18, 6,18 denotes on thi6 side. 
My 19,12,17 is a beverage. 
My 20, 21, 22 is seen in winter. 
My whole is a true saying. 
Hillsboro, HI., 1859. M. Y. Z. 
fW* Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ALGEBRAICAL PROBLEM. 
Postings. —Of an unpopular painter it was said 
his only good traits were his por-traits. 
An omnibus horse has about an equal experience 
of wheel and woe. 
Can a Miss be said to play the piano in a master- 
ly manner? 
If General Tom Thumb finds a fitting wife, the 
public will enjoy the pomological exhibition of a 
new variety of “ Dwarf Pair.”— Few York Keen¬ 
ing Post. 
BWBMwn^jM ir w i MH i iiwPw r i l ■WIIHIII M ill I I VW WMI I 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Weekly, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
A criminal having escaped from prison, traveled 
some hours before his escape was known. As soon as 
his escape was discovered, the police started in pursuit 
ofhim;and, after travelling 32 miles, met an express- 
man going one mile an hour slower than themselves, 
who met the criminal 12 miles back. The police pur¬ 
sued 24 miles further, and met a stage going one mile 
faster than themselves, which met the criminal 10 miles 
back. They continued their pursuit, and captured the 
criminal just 12 hours and 24 minutes after meeting the 
stage. Now, taking it for granted that neither the 
criminal nor the police altered their speed from their 
starting till the capture took place, how many miles 
had the criminal traveled when his escape was dis¬ 
covered ; at what rate per hour did he travel, and what 
was the hourly speed of the police ? 
Franklin, Yenango Co., Penn., 1859. 
Artemas Martin. 
C5F" Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 51L 
iswer to Miscellaneous Enigma: — Full many a 
sr is born to blush unseen.—Grey, 
iswer to Riddle:—Sword. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite the Court Douse, Buffalo St. 
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■llll ■■■■ HI—W——M—— 
mmmma 
