NOVEMBER. 
BY JAMBS G. Cl. ARK. 
Tn® red sun gathers up his beams 
To bid the ‘withered earth farewell, 
And Toices from the swelling streams 
Are ringing with the evening bell; 
The cold lake sobs with restless grie^ 
Where late the water lilies grew, 
While autumn fowl and autumn leaf 
Are sailing down the rivers blue. 
Forsaken are the woodland shrines, 
The robin and the wren have fled, 
And winds are wailing through the pines 
A dirge for summer’s glorious dead ; 
E'en man forsakes his daily strife, 
And muses on the bright things flown. 
As if in Nature’s changing life, 
He saw the picture of his own. 
I often think, at this sad hour, 
As evening weeps her earliest tear, 
And sunset gilds the naked bower, 
And waves are breaking cold and clear, 
Of that glad time, whose memory dwells 
Like starlight o’er life's cloudy weather, 
When side by side we roved the dells 
Of proud New England’s coast together. 
’Twas on old Plymouth’s rock-famed shore, 
One calm November night, with thee 
I watched the long light trembling o’er 
The billows of the eastern sea; 
The weary day had sunk to rest 
Beyond the lines of leafless wood, 
And guardian clouds, from south to west, 
Arrayed in hues of crimson stood. 
We climbed the bill of noble graves, 
Where the stern Patriarchs of the land 
Seem listening to the same grand waves 
That freed them from th’ oppressor’s hand; 
We talked of spirits pure and kind, 
With gent'c forms and loviDg eyes 5 
Of happy homes we left behind 
In vales beneath the western skies. 
A few brief days—and when the earth 
Grew white around the traveler's feet, 
And bright fires blazed on every hearth, 
We parted never more to meet 
Until I go where thou art gone 
From this dark world of death and blight, 
And walk with lhee above the sun 
That sank upon thy grave to-night. 
I hear the muffled tramp of years 
Come stealing up the slope of Time ; 
They bear a train of smiles' and tears, 
Of burning hopes and dreams sublime; 
But future years may never fling 
A treasure from their passing hours, 
Like those that come, on sleepless wing, 
From memory’s golden plain of flowers. 
The morning breeae of long-ago 
Sweeps o’er my brain witn soft control, 
Farming the embers to a glow 
Amidst the ashes of my soul; . 
And by the dim and flickering light, 
I see thy beauteous form appear, 
Like one returned from wanderings bright, 
To bless my lonely moments here. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
KATE RICHMOND’S BOUQUET; 
AND WHAT BECAME OF IT. 
BY KATE CAMERON. 
It was a clear, sunny day in the latter part of 
Winter—one of those bright days which some¬ 
times come at that season, as a harbinger of 
returning SpriDg—and the streets of our “ Modern 
Athens” were thronged with gaily-dressed belles 
and fashionable exquisites. Prominent among 
the stylish equipages passing through Washing¬ 
ton street, was an open carriage, containing four 
ladies—the Misses Richmond and their cousin, 
Miss Washburn. A merry and an interesting 
group they were, wrapped in velvets and furs, 
and decked with plumes, laces and flowers; but 
far more attractive than their French artificials, 
were the elegant bouquets which they all carried; 
for during their drive about town to show the 
“ lions” of their native city to their guest, Georgia 
Washburn, they had called at a favorite green¬ 
house and procured these costly blossoms, in view 
of a grand levee to which they were that evening 
invited—for, fair and fashionable as these ladies 
w'ere, they had not as jet succeeded in attaching 
to themselves those most desirable appendages, 
admiring beaux, who would have furnished them, 
as a matter of course, with the coveted bouquets; 
but very fortunately their wealthy papa supplied 
this deficiency, as far as money could do it. 
Owing to the crowd of vehicles, the driver found 
it necessary to stop for a few moments near one 
of the crossings, and the youngest of the com¬ 
pany, Kate Richmond, perceived a little boy 
standiDg very near, and gazing wishfully at the 
flowers in her hand. There was a sad and earnest 
expression in his clear blue eyes, which plead 
more eloquently than words, and obejing the 
generous impulse of her sympathizing heart, 
Kate reached out her hand, sajing, “Here, little 
boy, you may have these flowers, if you would 
like them.” 
The boy looked at her with a glance of eager 
surprise, then exclaimed, as he grasped the 
bouquet, “Oh! thank you, thank you!” and dis¬ 
appeared quickly in the crowd, while Miss Kate 
received the wondering stare of the passers-by, 
and the rather uncharitable comments of her 
companions, with the unfeigned good nature 
■which ever irradiated her face with smiles. 
The united voices of sisters and cousin, de¬ 
nounced her proceeding as absolute folly. “Why, 
Kate Richmond! I’m positively ashamed of you!” 
was Miss Julia’s exclamation. “Giving those 
splendid flowers to a dirty beggar!” chimed in 
Miss Amelia. “Decidedly‘casting pearls before 
swine,’ simpered Miss Georgia. “I think papa 
will give you no more five-dollar bills to throw 
away.” “And what will you do for flowers to 
wear at Mrs. Reverb’s this evening?” “A very 
refined taste, surely, jou display in the selection 
of the recipients of jour bounty.” 
Bj this time the carriage, extricaied from the 
crowd, was being rapidly whirled towards its 
destination, the handsome residence of Mr. Rich¬ 
mond, on Chestnut street, Kate remaining silent 
and smiling, while her elder sisters entertained 
their cousin with a graphic account of her 
“oddities.” 
“She is always patronizing some beggar or 
other, stopping to bid the dirty street-sweepers 
‘ Good morning,’ or to drop some money into the 
blind organ-grinder’s cup, or help some old 
woman pick up her oranges, which the boys have 
upset. If she happens to stumble over a boy who 
stands staring into a shop window, she always 
sajs, ‘I beg your pardon,’ or ‘Excuse me,’ as if 
he were a lord of the lanc|^ and whenever the 
children come for cold pieces, if Kate is in the 
basement, they are called iD, to be warmed aDd fed. 
Oh! she will make a benevolent, philanthropic 
old maid!” And the sister of eigbt-and-twenty 
looked compassionately upon the maiden of eight¬ 
een, as though she regarded her doom as inevitable. 
“ But here we are at home,” aDd the ladies 
alighted, and, ascending the broad stone steps, 
entered the mansion. 
We will leave them there, and follow Kate’s 
little protege as Ije wends his way through narrow 
streets and allejs, in an opposite direction from the 
current of fashion still sweeping down Washing¬ 
ton street. He bolds his bouquet with a tight 
clasp, as if fearful of losing the new-found treas¬ 
ure; and as he hurries along, old and youDg ejes 
look with wonder at the straDge apparition,— 
flowers, and such flowers, in winter!—and little 
hands are stretched out eagerly, but in vain; for 
Charley knows there are dear eyes at borne that 
will brighten at the unexpected sight, and he must 
show the gift, uumarred, to them. 
At length he pauses before a large tenement 
building, where families are crowded in with but 
little regard to comfort, and none to convenience. 
Ascending two flights of stairs, he enters a room, 
which, despite the visible poverty, is scrupulously 
cl^an, and the humble furniture is arranged in a 
tasteful manner, imparting a home-like look to 
the narrow limits. There are two women busily 
sewing; one, with silvered hair aDd careworn 
brow, the other young and fair, but there is a 
hectic flush upon her cheek, aDd now and then her 
hand is pressed involuntarily upon her sides, 
while a dry, hacking cough is echoed by a sigh 
from her mother’s lips. 
“Do lay aside jour work, Anne, for a little 
while, and go down stairs and see Mary Sprague. 
She may like a little assistance from you, for this 
is her wedding night, you know.” 
“Sure enough, mother; and I promised to plait 
her hair. But there’ll be time enough, by and by; 
and here comes Charley.” 
“Mother! Anne! guess what I’ve got!” he 
exclaimed, holding his band behind him. “But, 
oh! you never can, so I’ll show you.” And with 
childish delight he displayed his floral prize. 
/ “ Beautiful! beaut fu' ” ofc'aiined Mrs. Weston 
and her daughter, a%Hiey examined the flowers. 
“But, Charley, where did you get them?” was 
his mother’s inquiry. 
“ Oh! a lady gave them to me, and she had 
such a sweet, kind face.” 
“But how dared you ask her for them?” said 
Anne; “these flowers must have cost a great deal 
of money.” 
“ I didn’t ash her,” answered Charley ; “ I 
only looked at them, and she gave them to me; 
but I thanked her, I did, and I shall always love 
her.” 
“She was indeed kind,” said Anne, “ and I wish 
I could thank her too ; for I have been piniDg for 
the flowers to come once more, and these will do 
me more good than medicine. But we mustn’t 
be selfish about them,” she continued, as she 
unwound the boquet, carefully laying the flowers 
in her lap; “this japonica, and these sprays of 
white jasmine, will be just the thing for Mary’s 
hair.” 
“And I,” added her mother, “would like to 
carry a few of them to poor Mrs. Brown, whose 
baby died last night.” 
“Oh! do, mother; these white rose-buds and 
geranium leaves will be so sweet!” 
And mother and daughter, intqnt on sharing 
their happiness with their friends, left Charley 
to arrange the remaining blossoms in a large 
tumbler, while one ascended the rickety stairs to 
the death-chamber* and the other went down to 
the cosy rooms of the old shoemaker, Simon 
Sprague, on the second floor. 
Mrs. Brown had just completed the sad task of 
preparing the lifeless form of her infant for its 
last resting-place. Very plain was the little pine 
coffin; but the mother’s tears fell upon the coarse 
pillow with as much heartfelt grief as was ever 
manifested above the costly rosewood and satin- 
lined casket, in the stately abode of the wealthy. 
True, they were very poor, and the ‘hard times’ 
made it indeed a difficult task to procure needful 
food and decent raiment, but what parent would 
ever willingly resign a child for the sake of 
abridging the family expenses? 
Mrs. Weston entered quietly, and placing a 
tiDy rosebud in the waxen fingers, aDd laying a 
few flowers about the little face, bent down and 
kissed the baby brow with that reverence which 
one cannot but feel in the presence of the dead. 
“ Bless you,—bless you!” was all that the sorrow- 
stricken mother could say; and her husband 
comiBg in at that moment, she pointed silently 
towards the beautiful blossoms, which were so 
straDge a sight in that dark dwelling, and he, 
rough and uncultivated man that he was, gazed 
at them with tear-dimmed eyes, and thanked Mrs. 
Weston in a husky whisper. 
Meanwhile, Anne was seated in her friend s 
little bedroom, and Mary knelt at her feet, look 
ing with delight at the unexpected offering which 
would be so appropriate for a bride, and talking 
in the low tone which seems ever to be the chosen 
medium of happy thoughts. She had long been 
betrothed to William Mason, an honest, indus¬ 
trious mechanic; and now that her younger sister, 
to whom she had been as a mother since the death 
of their kind parent, had grown to woman’s estate, 
she felt that she cou'd safely leave her to take 
care of their old father, and she was now to be¬ 
come the light of another home, humble indeed, 
but rich in a pure love, which gold can never buy. 
Anne plaited the long ravpn tresses, and twined 
therein bdowj blossoms and dark green leaves; 
and when Mary, attired in her simple muslin 
dress, went to her father’s side to receive his 
approving smi'e, do wonder that he gazed upon 
her with admiring fondness; and when the en¬ 
trance of the happy bridegroom called the rose- 
tint to her cheek, William might well say, with 
affectionate pride, “You Dever looked half so 
pretty before, my Mary!” 
But «ve may not linger in that humble abode, 
nor watch the fading blossoms which for many 
days were so carefully treasured, and when all 
their beauty had fled, little Charley laid away 
the dry stalks and withered leaves as a memento 
of “the dear, kind lady,” for whose well-remem¬ 
bered face he long looked whenever he passed 
through the fashionable thoroughfares of the city. 
Two slips of geraniums there were, which, set 
out in broken pitchers, grew green and thrifty. 
One stood in the window near which old Simon 
Sprague sat on his bench, plying his awl and 
waxed ends. He would pause in the midst of 
some psalm-tune which he was humming, to count 
the leaves and buds on what he always ca'led 
“Mary’s posy.” The other plant was carefully 
tended by gentle Anne Weston for a few months, 
when it3 leaves shed their fragrance within her 
coffin—a fitting emblem of her sweet memory, as 
it lingered in the heart of her mother and brother; 
but oh! far more transient was that perfume than 
the deep, abiding affection which enshrined that 
lovely girl in the inmost souls of those who had 
best known and loved her on earth. 
Thus much for the history of the bouquet. Let 
us resume our acquaintance with the kind donor 
and her fashionable friends. 
We will precede them to the stately mansion of 
Mrs. Revere, on the evening of the same day 
which witnessed our introduction to them. The 
hostess was a wealthy and beautiful widow, and 
her only brother, Percy Lincoln, baviDg recently 
returned from a three years’ sojourn in the old 
world, she determined to honor the event with an 
assembly which should be the most elegant and 
attractive of the season. The brother and sister 
stood together in the princely suite of rooms, 
marking the effect of the lights and the arrange¬ 
ment of the furniture, and chatting merrily of the 
anticipated pleasures of the evening. “ Grant me 
one favor, sister mine,” at length he exclaimed. 
“ Anythmg you may ask,” was her reply ; “ could 
I deny you aught, Percy?” 
“Then allow me to ensconce myself behind the 
velvet drapery, which nearly conceals the bow 
window in the library from view. I wish to see 
awhile, without being seen, and I will join you by 
and by;” and, bowiDg with mock reverence, he 
touched his lips to the daintily-gloved hand of 
Mrs. Revere, and retired to his chosen retreat 
before the door-bell commenced giving its contin¬ 
ual summons. t Mrp. U. vi-tfr e received her guests 
with that pe;fcv'/cx!®t.|p- -.hfahility which bud 
ever made her a favov M in her large circle of 
acquaintance. The pr/oBs ^?re soon thronged 
with lively groups ol i* r and graceful forms, 
clad in costly robes of every hue. Ladies there 
were who might have passed for queens, with 
their jeweled diadems; others haughtily tossed 
the flowing plumes which adorned their hair; 
and others still, with studied simplicity, wote no 
other ornament save Nature’s gems — beautiful 
flowers. 
Prominent amoDg the gay crowd were Julia 
and Amelia Richmond and Georgia Washburn. 
Their silks were of the richest texture, but too 
showy to please a fastidious taste; their silver 
bouquet-holders contained the choicest exotics, 
and pearls were gleaming among the daik tresses 
of the two sisters; wnile tneir cousin had encircled 
the heavy braids of her hair with a golden wreath; 
and the pins, rings, chains and bracelets, which 
they all so lavishly displayed, could not but sug¬ 
gest to the beholder their resemblance to a 
jeweler’s show-case. 
And Kate was there, too, but without a single 
ornament. Her dress of azure-hued moire-antique 
was rich but simple, and the luxuriant waves of 
her soft brown hair needed no adornment. Her 
sisters had relented while performing their toilette, 
and offered to share their flowers with her, or lend 
her some of their jewels; but while she thanked 
them for their proffered kindness, she declined 
availing herself of it, and seemed perfectly will¬ 
ing to abide by the consequences of what they 
had termed her rashness and folly, while they 
prophesied that if she went dressed in that plain 
and unheard-of manner, she would not receive a 
single attention from any gentleman the whole 
evening, “unless,” suggested Miss Julia, “some 
prim old. bachelor, or fatherly widower, takes 
pity on you, and takes you out of the corner for a 
promenade.” 
Such remarks were too frequent from her sisters 
to make any very deep impression on Kate’s 
spirits. Never had she felt more happy, and her 
blue eye3 shone with an unwonted radiance as she 
glided through the sp’endid apartments at Mrs. 
Revere’s. There was a child like simplicity and 
grace in her movements which could not fail of 
winning the admiration of all who prefer Nature 
to Art; and Mrs. Revere was not surprised an 
hour later to hear her brother’s whispered request 
for an introduction to “that charming fairy,” 
who, he declared, had at last lured him from his 
secluded nook in the library. Nor did he after¬ 
wards seem inclined to return thither, but through 
the remainder of the evening he hovered about 
Kate Richmond— now talking of afavoiite author, 
or recounting some of his foreign adventures; 
then examining a choice engraving, or looking at 
a costly paintiDg; anon asking her opinion on 
some of the leading questions of the day, and 
listening with pleased attention to her views, at 
once candidly and politely expressed; and if he 
were called away to greet an old acquaintance, or 
be presented to a new one, he invariably sought 
out that modest girl, whose unaffected nature and 
well-stored mind had a peculiar charm for him. 
Nor could she be quite insensible to the attentions 
of one so noble and gifted as Percy Lincoln ; 
one, whom to know was but to admire and lore. 
And yet, true to herself, she received the half- 
envious congratulations of her sisters upon what 
they termed her “splendid conquest,” with the 
same gentle and unruffled spirit whichhad enabled 
her to bear their reproaches so meekly. 
Need we go on to relate how, a year from that 
memorable evening, there was a select party at 
Mr. Richmond’s, on which occasion his elder 
daughters, still left to their maiden meditations, 
appeared in their gay dresses and jewels, while 
our friend Kate, again leaning upon Percy Lin¬ 
coln’s arm, wore white satin and oraDge blossoms. 
After the solemn and impressive rite had been 
performed, and the newly wedded and truly happy 
husband and wife bad received the congratulations 
of their friends, Percy reminded his lovely bride 
of tbeir first meeting just one year previous. 
“But,” added he, “I saw you once before, on the 
afternoon of the same day, when you gave a 
bouquet to a little boy in the street. I was at¬ 
tracted by the novel spectacle, and thought I had 
never witnessed a more beautiful tableau than the 
whole scene presented. I determined at any rate 
to learn your name, and to ascertain from personal 
acquaintance if that generous and unprecedented 
deed were in keeping with your real character. I 
at once recognized you in my sister’s house,—and 
you know all the rest. Blessings on you, my true 
and noble Kate !” 
Rochester, N. Y., November, 1859. 
IB it attit junior. 
THE BASHFUL MAN. 
Washington Irving at a party in England, one 
day playfully asserted that the love of annexa¬ 
tion which the Anglo-Saxon race displayed on 
every occasion, proceeded probably from its 
mauvaise honte, rather than its greediness. As a 
proof he cited the story of a bashful friend of 
his, who being asked to a dinner party, sat down 
to the table next to the hostess in a gveat state 
of excitement, owing to his recluse life. A few 
glasses of wine mounting to his brain, completed 
bis confusion, and dissipated the small remains 
of his presence of mind. Casting his eyes down 
he saw on his lap some white linen. “My 
heavens,” thought he, “ that’s my shirt protrud¬ 
ing at my waistband.” He immediately com¬ 
menced to tuck in the offending portion of his 
dress, but the more he tucked in, the more there 
seemed to remain. At last he made a desperate 
effort, when a sudden crash around him, and a 
scream from the company, brought him to his 
senses. He had been all the time stuffing the 
tablecloth into his breeches, and last time had 
swept everything clean off the table. Thus our 
bashful friend annexed a tablecloth, thinking it 
the tail of his own shirt. 
TnE Sidewalk Cemetery. — ODe of our Massa¬ 
chusetts exchauges tells a good story of a jolly 
fellow who, on tbe‘j“ Glorious Fourth.” passing 
along the streets of Springfield, in that State, saw 
the inscription, “ B. K. Bliss, Apothecary, ” 
neatly chiseled on a marble slab in the centre of 
the sidewalk. Stepping reverently over the stone, 
he turned round, and reading slowly, “B. K. Bliss, 
Apoplexy ,” exclaimed, “Apoplexy—yes—well— 
but what in creation did they bury him under the 
sidewalk for?” 
A Strong Recommendation. —A peddlar wish¬ 
ing to recommend his razors to the gaping crowd, 
thus addressed them:—“Gentlemen, the razors 
I hold in my hand were made in a cave by the 
light of a diamond in the province of Andalusia 
in Spain. They cut as quick as thought, and are 
as bright as the morning star. A word or two 
more, and I am certain you will buy them. Lay 
them under your pillow at night, and you will 
find yourself clean shaved in the morning.” 
A Person’s Feelings at Sea. —The first hour 
that a person spends at sea is commonly devoted 
to admiring man’s triumph over the deep—the 
next in admitting that the deep is gradually tri¬ 
umphing over him. “Steward,where’s my room? 
I begin to feel as if I should very soon need a little 
weak brandy, or a good deal of tin basin.” 
A STRING OF LITTLE JOKERS. 
“ That, sir, is the Spirit of the Press,” said a 
lady, as she handed a glass of cider to a gentle¬ 
man. 
Extremes meet. Civilization and barbarism 
come together. Savage Indians and fashionable 
ladies paint their faces. 
Three things that never agree—two cats over 
one mouse, two wives in one house, and two lovers 
after one young lady. 
A negro’s instructions for putting on a coat 
were :—“ Fust de right arm, den de lef, and den 
gib one general conwulshun.” 
Pawnbrokers and hard drinkers often take 
pledges ; we fear that the former generally keep 
them longest. 
A leading maxim with almost every politician 
is always to keep his countenance, and never to 
keep his word. 
Any paper can publish the appointments after 
the coming in of a new administration, but what 
paper in the world is large enough to publish half 
the disappointments ? 
One day Jerrold was asking about the talent of 
a young painter, when his companion declared 
that the youth was mediocre. “ The very worst 
ochre an artist can set to work with,” was the 
quiet reply. 
A book about England has just been published 
in Germany, in which the author mentions, among 
other equally interesting facts, that thieves are so 
scarce in that country, that a reward is often 
offered for the discovery of one. 
Some rude country critic quoting the London 
Times’ remark that our Secretary of the Treasury 
has woven “ some curious financial webs,” remarks 
that they are like other Cobb-webs. We wonder 
is the critic intentionally personal ? 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 83 letter*. 
My 18, 30, 22, 20 is the name of a State and river In the 
United Slates, 
My 19,17, 21 is a kind of fish. 
My 11, 6,13, 4, 29, 16 has been witnessed during the 
past summer. 
My 27, 7, 20, 2 is what a husband does over bnttonlees 
shirts. 
My 24, 14,1, 82, 25 grows only in summer. 
My 32, 4,10,1, 21 is what every farmer should have. 
My 23, 5, 8,14, 28, though human, is brought into bon¬ 
dage. 
My 10, 81, 3, 7 iB an adverb. 
My 28, 18 is a preposition. 
My 12, 9, 22, 23, 15 is what a refined lady loves to do ha 
company. 
My whole is essential to good manners. 
Oaketone Dell, Wis., 1839. Cuaelby. 
£51?“ Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HISTORICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 84 letters. 
My 1, 47, 30, 43, 7 was an American general. 
My 4, 57, 15, 2,11, 47,10, 43, 57, 81, 24, 78, 74 was a mar¬ 
itime city of Caria, the birthplace of Herodotus. 
My 6, 57, 8,12, 22,3S. 47,51 was a Carthaginian general. 
My 13, 47, 83, 9, 37, 53, 49, 67 was a mountain of Cam¬ 
pania, famous for its wine. 
My 10, 57, 43, 3, 47, 42, 78, 74 was a son of Jupiter, the 
father of Pelops, aud king of Phrygia. 
My 20, 47, 74, 17, 21, 43, 53, 5, IS, 58 was commander-in¬ 
chief of the American army. 
My 28, 47, 80. 50, 26, 81, 57 betrayed the Roman citadel 
to the Sabines. 
My 27, 47, 80, 10, 82, 58 was an American general. 
My 29, 36, 10, 33, 14, 76, 75, 67 was a celebrated hero, 
the son of Jupiter and Alcmena. 
My 34, 47,19, 24, 28, 41, 65, 62, 74 was the shepherd by 
whom Romnlus and Remus were brought up. 
My 40, 47, 35, 57 is the goddess of Report. 
My 43, 39, 76, 65, 41, 47, 56, 74 was one of the captors of 
Major Andre. 
My 45, 25, 47, 76, 69, 67 was one of the seven wise men 
of Greece. 
My 50, 46, 57, 51, 61, 24 was the name of an island on 
which was a tower, esteemed one of the seven 
wonders of the world. 
My 55, 5-1, 7, 35, 52, 74, 66, 61, 11, 76, 75, 74 was a cele¬ 
brated Athenian general in the Persian war. 
My 59, 60, 75, 81, 64, 31 was the wife of Peleus and 
mother of Achilles. 
My 63, 61, 65, 77, 75 was an English general who wa» 
killed in 1759. 
My 69,18, 70, 9 was an English officer who took a prom¬ 
inent part in the American Revolution. 
My 71, 83, 75, 67, 7, 14, 24 was one of taemoet celebrated 
heroes of antiquity. 
My 79, 72, 2, 58, 7, 19, 21 was a king of Arcadia and 
priest of Apollo. 
My 82, 26, 51, 73, 61, 49 was a giant who was slain by 
. Hercules, and whose oxen were driven into Greece. 
My whole may be found in the eighteenth psalm. 
Bennett’s Corners, N. Y,, 1859. H. N. Arches. 
fW Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOMETRICAL PROBLEM. 
The area of a certain right-angled triangular field is 
15 acres, and the loDger segment of the bypothenuse, 
made by a perpendicular, let fall from the right-angle 
on the bypothenuse, measures 64 perches. Required 
the sides of the triangle. Artemab Martin. 
Franklin, Venango Co., Penn., 1859. 
Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 514. 
Answer to Biblical Enigma:—A soft answer turneth 
away wrath ; but grevious words stir up anger. 
Answer to Riddle:—Philadelphia. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem:—8 miles square, or 
5,760 acres. 
Answer to Illustrated Rebus: 
Harper's Ferry Armory raid excels all Kansas 
doings. 
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. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite tlic Court House, Buffalo St. 
TERMS, 11ST ADVANCE : 
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and one free to club agent, for $10; Ten, and one free, for 
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for 125 —with an extra free copy for every Ten Subscribers 
over Twenty. Club papers sent to different Post-offices, If de¬ 
sired. As we pre-pay American postage on papers sent to 
the British Provinces, our Canadian agents and friends must 
add 12)4 cents per copy to the club rates of the Rural.— 
The lowest price of copies sent to Europe, Ac., is only $2,- 
ing postage. 
3kments— Twenty-Five Cents a Line, eachlnser- 
>le in advance. Our rule is to give no advertlse- 
ss very brief, more than six to eight consecutive 
Patent Medicines, Ac., are not advertised in 
on any conditions. 
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