OCT. 30. MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND EMILY NEWSPAPER. 353 
Writteu for Moore’s Rural New-Yorkar. 
Sketches from the Alps to the Adriatic. 
NUMBER SIX. 
The Pass of Brenner—Descent towards Italy—Sudden 
Change of Climate —The Valley of the Adige— Meran 
—Castle Tyrol—A Tramp in the Passeyer Valley — 
An Eccentric Companion. 
The Brenner Postheuse, on the highest point of 
the pass, is four thousand three hundred and 
seventy-five feet above the level of the sea. The 
road is one of the easiest and oldest across the 
Alps. It was used and fortified by the Romans, and 
the hosts of barbarians from the North, who 
overwhelmed ancient Rome, passed into Italy over 
Brenner. The pass is a narrow gorge. On either 
hand rise lofty peaks, their bases covered with 
patches of fir forest, intermingled with green pas¬ 
tures, but the extreme summits are sterile rock, 
half covered by the snow. Straight down the 
precipitous side of one peak, flows a torrent which 
draws its floods from the lowest snow banks, and 
dashes them over the rough rocks, till they rival 
the whiteness of their sources. It pours them 
through the forests, where they giitter among the 
green trees, and finally it drops their smoke-like 
wreath, daintily as it seems, over a high precipice, 
to the bottom of the gorge. There they turn the 
wheel of a saw mill, and then rush on throngh a 
channel worn three or four feet deep, In a direct 
line to the opposite peak, but turn to the right af¬ 
ter going a short distance. If that torrent should 
be checked for a time, and that channel filled 
smoothly to the brim, and then the waters let loose 
again, you could not tell whether the inclination of 
the land would lead them to the right or left. If 
they turned to the left they would flow to the Inn, 
the Danube, and the Black Sea, but as they go to 
the right they find their way to the Adige and the 
Adriatic. 
The descent towards Italy is much steeper than 
towards Germany. All the way to Brixen, which 
is twenty-five miles distant, the road passes thro’ a 
gorge—the valley of the Eisack. At Brixen, where 
the valley of the Poster enters the valley of the 
Eisack, there is a strong fortress that completely 
commands the road. There is some level bottom 
land, at the latter place, on each side of the river, 
but the valley rapidly narrows to a gorge again as 
it proceeds towards Bozen, twenty.five miles fur¬ 
ther down. In many places there i3 but just room 
enough for the boiling river, and the road is cut in 
the rock, with an overhanging precipice hundreds 
of feet high on one side and a railing of wood on 
the other. The river Eisack which, at its commence¬ 
ment on Brenner, I could easily leap across, grows 
rapidly larger, and at Bozen, fifty miles from its 
source, is nearly as wide as the Adige which it 
joins. I saw on the route many large wheels, turned 
slowly by the current, raising water to irrigate 
the land. 
The sudden change in climate which one ob¬ 
serves, when passing from the Northern to the 
Southern declivities of the Alps, is remarkable._ 
At the time I was in the valley of the Inn, summer 
had not asserted there the full supremacy of her 
sway. The earliest cherries were like green peas, 
and the Indian corn had but just burst forth to the 
sunshine—the grass, and the barley, and the rye, 
waved headless in the breeze—the trees had not 
soiled their fresh garments of joyous green—and 
no shepherd had dared to pipe his obedient flocks 
to the high pastures on the mountains. Half a 
day’s walk direct from Innspruck brings one to the 
summit of the pass, and from thence to Bozen, the 
distance is fifty miles. When I arrived at Brixen, 
I saw, for the first time, vineyards in the TyroL At 
Bozen the hay harvest had commenced several 
days previously, the barley and the rye were grow¬ 
ing yellow for the reaper, the cherry trees were 
red with ripe fruit, the air was warm at sunset, yet 
pure and invigorating—the balmyness of Italy 
mixed with the purity of the mountains. Orange, 
lemon, chestnut, and fig trees, stood on the slopes, 
and vineyards covered the broad valley below. 
I went up the valley of the Adige to Meran, 
which is twenty-four miles from Bozen. The 
slopes that rise upwards from this valley are very 
beautiful, they are green with forests and meadows, 
and many villages and castles are scattered over 
them. I stood in one place and counted six cas¬ 
tles. At the “Post,” in Meran, I made the ac¬ 
quaintance of a young German who was my com¬ 
panion in two excursions. One was to the castle 
Tyrol, which, anciently, was the seat of its princes, 
and has given its name to the country. Three 
hundred years ago, a rain storm took place among 
the mountains and the clouds sent down so power¬ 
ful a torrent of water, that it washed a deep gully 
close to the castle, and bore away some of the 
walls. The view from the ruin, over the valley and 
on to the mountains, amply rewards the exertion 
of an hour’s walk from Meran. Our other excur¬ 
sion was up the valley of the Passeyer, to the 
house that was occupied by Andrew Hofer. We 
started ia the middle of the forenoon and returned 
at eleven o’clock at night. The valley itself is 
not very interesting, as it ia narrow and the moun¬ 
tains rather monotonous. The only road is a foot 
path which crosses the Passeyer several times, by 
wooden bridges. Hofer’s house, which is now, as 
formerly, an inn, stands close to the river’s brink, 
and is larger, and better built than the majority of 
peasant houses. Behind the house is a small patch 
of tillable land, above which rise the mountain 
precipices and pastures. Before the door hung 
several targets, full of bullet holes, of which many 
were in the center. I was told that nearly every 
Sunday the peasants assemble, and shoot at targets 
with their rifles. 
We returned in the evening, and had a pleasant 
walk. I shall not forget how the full moon rose 
over the mountains, lighting up their rocky, snowy 
peaks, and chasing the shadows out of the valleys. 
The sky looked so warm and beautiful, the air was 
so pure and balmy, and scented by new mown hay. 
As we neared Meran, we found the most of the 
path wholly under water, but by springing from 
stone to stone, we avoided wet feet This overflow 
of water was caused by the opening cf dams in the 
fields above, where the water that came down the 
mountains in small rivulets had been gathered for 
the purpose of irrigation. 
My German friend was rather eccentric in some 
of his notions. He did all by rule, always stopping 
to consider what effect a movement would have on 
his health before he executed it. He very much 
regretted that he had not brought along three 
clean shirts, and said that when he ascended one 
of the mountains near Meran, a trip of a few hours, 
he had carried half a dozen, all of which he used 
to keep himself dry. At the inn where we dined 
he took off his shirt, had it washed, dried, and 
ironed while we waited, and then declared himself 
ready to return. 
The romantic environs of Meran, and its agreea¬ 
ble and healthy climate, make it an excellent place 
for passing a few summer and fall months. There 
are two well conducted and convenient hotels, 
which, in the time of the grape harvest, are often 
filled with strangers, consisting of invalids that 
resort thither for the benefit of the grapes, and 
persons seeking for pleasure. At the time I was 
there, a couple of English families had already 
been quartered some weeks at the hotel. The land 
in the valley is not remarkably rich, but the South¬ 
ern climate together with the advantages of irriga¬ 
tion, render it easy to grow two crops on the land 
at the same time. The vines are trained over high 
arbors, extending from one side of the field to the 
other, and completely shut out the sun’s rays from 
the surface of the ground, but beneath these vines 
corn, potatoes, wheat, barley, and rye grow and 
produce abundantly. It looked cool to see men 
lazily hoeing the corn in the shade under these 
arbors. G. f. w. 
Write) for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
LINGERINGS WITH NATURE-NO. I. 
SENECA LAKE. 
Not celebrated in story—not named in song, 
save through Percival’s gentle notes, it yet re¬ 
flects the blue summer sky and paints the living 
green of its banks upon the hearts of all who bask 
in its warm splendor, or catch its first bright 
spring smile. A dream of rural quiet and sylvan 
shades comes floating with the morning mists as 
they sweep down with the wind and rise to reveal 
the green slopes of the adjoining grove-dotted 
landscape. Pleasant thoughts of the valleys be¬ 
yond, of the glens and hill sides, where the vines 
and flowers nestle and flourish, come with the glad 
sunshine, as it lies aslant the distant hill-top, or 
glows upon the burnished water. Like thwarted 
human hope the winding shores of the lake show 
the gentle but powerful surgings, the sweep of the 
tempest and the unnoted washing of the waves; 
yet, like that same unconquerable hope, it turns 
not from its general course, but with steady force 
bears onward to its destination. At the head of 
the lake, after a glance at its dark waters, we turn 
to “ Glen Maria”—a rocky defile—the mark of some 
sudden convulsion in nature, leaving a sonl-lifceye 
in the rock-bound face thus opportunely revealed 
to our view. Like its slippery paths and tortuous 
ways are those of the sin-guided soul, ever tramp¬ 
ing upon the narrow ledges and scaling the doubt¬ 
ful precipices from which a single mis-step might 
hurl to certain ruin. 
Damp, dark, wonderful and wild—the slaty rock 
worn into narrow crevices and channels —the 
scrubby evergreens fastened to the rocky sides and 
the tall trees leaning to meet above—all bring a 
strange, weird feeling of awe and rapture, won¬ 
der and reverence. Following the winding shores 
of the Seneca, and pausing a moment to gaze at 
the Painted Rock of Indian warfare we come sud¬ 
denly upon the long, foaming line of whitened 
waters known as Hector Falls. Leaping down be¬ 
tween its green banks, revealing the dark line of 
the bridge mid way, and rivaling in whiteness the 
adjacent cottages, it seems an abiding life, a living 
picture. Miles beyond a Beries of garden fields 
and fragrant orchards, the wild glen, Rock Stream, 
or the “ Fall of the Silver Thread,” but shows its 
grim portal ere the majestic volume of Big Spring 
Fall deafens our ears and enwraps our souls in 
new visions of awed delight. Tumbling, roaring 
and bounding, it angrily rusheB down the jutting 
rocks, to check its fury against the calm surface 
of the silver lake, burying and deadening its seem, 
ing wrath as the waters meet. The bolder hills 
vanish a3 we Bail onward past the many picturesque 
points and rough wharfs; the sloping hill-sides are 
dotted with villages—the rich meadows waving with 
grain and ripe with plenty. We finally land at 
Geneva; beautiful beyond description, yet wanting 
the dim vision of cloud-capped mountains, or rose- 
tinted and fire-lifted peaks, as they lie against the 
clear sky, to bring a memory of Switzerland and 
the Alps. Still, its wondrous summer beauty lies 
upon many a heart, and inspires many torpid souls 
with holy thoughts and heaven-born purposes, 
which loftier hills and sunnier skies may never 
have awakened. 
Beautiful Seneca! ef life a fitting type,—chang¬ 
ing, yet ever the same—smiling with the sun and 
frowning with the clouds—continually wasting, yet 
ever imperishable! l. a. t. 
North Fairfield, Ohio, 1858. 
THE RHINE. 
A CORRESPONDENT of the St. Louis Democrat 
describes the Rhine thus:—“ Every letter writer is 
so full of praise of the Rhine, or its wonderful 
scenery, that I shall pass it all by with one or two 
brief remarks. In width, current, and general ap¬ 
pearance, it resembles the Ohio at a good stage of 
water. It is of a beautiful light green, different 
from the waters of any western river I have ever 
seen. The current is quite rapid, but not so rapid 
as the Mississippi. Little, low pressure steamers, 
like those on the Thames, of from 80 to 150 tuns 
burthen, are constantly passing up and down for 
passengers and towing barges; but none of these 
steamers are a3 fine or as comfortable as those of 
our western boats. They have no staterooms or 
cabins on the upper decks. There are, all along 
the river, on both sides, sloping hills, which often 
rise into mountains, with here and there a ruined 
castle on the summit, but though these Blopes are 
often cultivated with vines almost to the very top, 
there is nothing in all this scenery which is equal 
in sublimity to the Hudson, or in beauty and varie- 
try to our own Mississippi above Prarie du Chien.” 
The prosperity of man lies in this one word— 
Education. Convey humanity to this fountain of 
happiness, and you bestow everything; all means 
of power and greatness. 
THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA. 
In Pisa, a walled city of Tuscany, is the famous 
Campanile, or Leaning Tower. This tower is one 
hundred and seventy-eight feet in height, fifty feet 
in diameter, the uppermost story over-hanging the 
base about fifteen feet. The material used in con¬ 
struction is marble—the design, eight rows of 
pillars, one above the other. In reference to its 
history and its architect, the Cyclopedia Americana 
very briefly informs ns, that it was “ built in the 
twelfth century, by a German of the name of 
William.” 
It is a matter of doubt whether this beautiful 
piece of architecture has actually sunk, or whether 
it was designedly built with its present inclination. 
However, we have in the Leaning Tower a re¬ 
markable illustration of the principle, that the line 
of direction must fall within the base upon which 
the body stands for support—if it falls outside of 
the base, the body overturns. A line cast from 
the summit of the Tower to the ground, and pass¬ 
ing throngh the centre of gravity, falls within the 
base, and. it stands secure. Were an attempt made 
to build the Tower a few feet higher, so that a 
perpendicular line, passing through the centre of 
gravity, would fall beyond the base, it would topple 
to destruction in an instant. This fact demon¬ 
strates another philosophical proposition, viz:— 
“ The larger the base of a body, and the nearer its 
principal mass is to the base, the more firmly it 
will stand.” 
OUR SUMMER FRIENDS. 
Who is not bothered with flies in summer? Who, 
at this present season, has not been tempted to dif¬ 
fer from the benevolent humorist’s opinion, that 
the world is wide enough for him and the winged 
torments? Yet, what a profound knowledge of the 
animal structure can be obtained from the flies that 
pester us while we sit in our rooms! A work has 
just been published by two gifted men on the com¬ 
mon house-fly and the earth-worm, with micro¬ 
scopic illustrations. In this volume attention is 
called to the wonderful organization of the fly, en¬ 
abling it to walk on the ceiling with its feet up¬ 
wards, or on the smooth panes of glass, setting 
apparently the laws of gravitation at defiance. Its 
feet, in fact, are furnished with countless minute 
suckers, that operate in the same manner as the 
leather suckers used by school boys to lift heavy 
stones. Then look at the neatness of the fly; how 
indefatigably it brushes its wings, and rubs it3 legs 
against each other, to remove any particles of dust! 
Those diminutive legs are covered with hairs that 
serve as dusters. 
A scientific gentleman observed the other day in 
our hearing that the common horse-fly stood mid¬ 
way among living creatures in point of size; that 
is, taking the elephant as the largest among ani¬ 
mals, and the mite as the smallest, there were as 
many classes of creatures smaller as there were 
larger than the fly. Not only its wonderful little 
frame, but its nervous system, is an interesting 
subject for discussion. As to its habits, it has a 
marvellous fancy for human companionship. It 
visits us familiarly, partakes our food, and culti¬ 
vates, as far as it can, a friendly familiarity with us. 
Without hesitation it will alight on our faces and 
hands, and examine everything we do. It is among 
insects what the dog ia among animals. Now, be¬ 
fore we spurn the smaller intruder as an uwelcome 
guest, let us see if it can teach us no lesson of ad¬ 
miration and wonder at the Creator’s power.— 
Viewed in this light, we shall find these summer 
friends capable of affording us the opportunity for 
much learning and profitable thought 
MICROSCOPIC WONDERS. 
Among the most remarkable of those myriads 
of animals which exist in every drop of water, is 
the navicula — a little creature which has some 
twenty or thirty legs, and is endowed by Nature 
with an armor of flint In a paper which was re¬ 
cently laid before one of the scientific societies of 
London, some curious facts concerning this dimin¬ 
utive animal were stated. Among other things it 
was mentioned that if an observer watches nar¬ 
rowly for five or six hours, he will note a thin trans¬ 
parent line spreading across it in some direction. 
After the line makes its first appearance it becomes 
every moment more distinct, and rapidly increases 
in width. At length the creature begins wrig¬ 
gling itslimbs violently, the body splits asunder, and 
two new naviculse are made out of one old one. 
The animal has something like a hundred stomachs, 
and its mouth, which is situated near one extrem¬ 
ity, is surrounded by a number of almost invisible 
tentaeula, with which it grasps its food; but as 
soon as the transparent line appears, which de¬ 
notes its approaching division into two, as another 
mouth will be wanted another is seen sprouting 
from the other extremity, and is ready to perform 
its functions as soon as the separation is effected. 
The navicula divides itself in two, once in twelve 
hours, under ordinary circumstances. But there 
are some kinds of navicula} which split them- 
| selves into sixteen instead of two in the same 
space of time. Were there no checks to the in¬ 
crease, a single one of the tribe would become the 
producer of many hundred millions of creatures 
in a month.— Portfolio. 
THE “RURAL” IN THE FAMILY. 
The Rural. New-Yorker is a readable weekly, highly 
esteemed by ladies and children. Our better half thinks 
it the best of the exchanges. We shall look after this 
paper sharply, for if it advocates feminine agriculture, or 
the right of women to dig potatoes, as we suspect, we will 
throw ourself into the breach (perhaps we ought to say 
breeches,) at every hazard. “ Give us liberty, or give us 
death.”— Springfield (Mass.) Rep.' 
The above notice, from a “ readable weekly ”— 
on political, literary and local New England topics 
—is highly complimentary, though perchance in¬ 
tended to be ironical. Any journal which is 
“ highly esteemed by ladies and children ” must be 
a welcome visitor, and wield great influence at and 
in the Family Circle. We often receive letters 
which say that of the six, twelve, or more papers 
taken in the family, the Rural is the most anxious¬ 
ly looked for each week, and the first sought and 
soonest and most read of the whole collection. 
This proves that the Rural is appreciated by those 
for whose benefit it is designed, and to promote 
whose welfare we devote earnest and continuous 
labor—the various members of the Family. Our 
talk is not exclusively of cattle, pigs and chickens 
—of plowing, planting, harvesting, and selling 
wheat, corn, potatoes,*&c; but we believe that 
while these are properly discussed, it is also our 
duty, as it is our pleasure, to discourse of many 
other subjects of interest to fathers and mothers, 
sons and daughters, and that in so doing we in¬ 
crease the knowledge, pleasure, contentment, and 
consequent happiness of tens of thousands of 
people who, we trust, occupy the only foretaste of 
heaven on earth—peaceful and happy Homes. As 
to the Rural’s “advocating feminine agriculture, 
or the rights of women to dig potatoes,” &c., we 
assure our contemporary that it does not believe 
such things hereticaL Moreover, it holds that, 
while the men have their reapers, threshers, and 
other labor-saving implements, the women are 
entitled to similar “ aid and comfort ” in their de¬ 
partment-such as sewing machines, and th8 
various improvements for lessening the labors of 
the dairy, kitchen, &c. While onr friend goes for 
“liberty or death,”—and, like many other un¬ 
thinking mortals, wants all the liberty on the mas¬ 
culine side —we think the wives, mothers, sisters 
and daughters of the “rural districts ” are entitled 
to a little more liberty, and less of the slavery which 
insures premature death, mental and physical 
It would of course be much easier and cheaper 
to make the Rural all Agricultural—for papers 
which are devoted mainly to one subject, (whether 
Agriculture, Religion, Politics, Literature, or 
News,) require far less labor and expense than 
one combining several important topics—but we 
shall continue to furnish one which, while it is 
reliable on Practical and Useful Subjects, shall also 
comprise such instruction, entertainment, and 
counsels relative to mental and moral training as 
we believe adapted to the wants and welfare of 
almost every family in the country. 
— Since the above was written, our attention has 
been called to the following article from the last 
number of the Chicago Journal. It is so much to 
the point, and so handsomely endorses our notions 
and practice, that we cannot refrain from giving 
it in this connection: 
“No paper in tlie land, whose talk is of garden, 
orchard and farm, is more welcome in the household than 
Moork’s Rural New-Yorker. It has a healthy, pleasant 
look, and is conducted ‘excellent well.’ Some agricultu¬ 
ral editors seem to think they are writing for the pigs 
and the poultry instead of the people, and fancy they 
must ‘ hang about ’ the barn-yard, go wading in the new 
plowing over the the tops of their boots, and never make 
themselves presentable and enter the house at all. No¬ 
body can possibly be as wise as some of them look; and 
when they come to the fireside they are as dull and 
heavy as an old breaking-up plow. They do not appear 
to know that the most profitable stock a man can have 
upon his farm are healthy, happy, intelligent children ; 
that even an Agricultural paper may have something 
pleasant to say to the boys, and something sweet to tell 
the girls ; that to cultivate the taste, to quicken and 
strengthen a love of beauty, are as much the province of 
the Agriculturists, as to decide when turnips should be 
sown, or how calves should be weaned, or the analysis of 
soils. The Rural New-Yorker neglects none of these 
things, and so renders itself good company in the house¬ 
hold, and a welcome visitant.” 
— And here iB an item from the Worcester Daily 
Transcript of the 20th inst—received since the 
foregoing was placed in type—which so tersely 
commends the Rural, and its objects and tenden¬ 
cies, that we are constrained to quote it in con¬ 
clusion : 
“ Among all the agricultural papers of the country, we 
know of none which more nobly fulfill their mission than 
Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. It must be a welcome 
visitor to every household it enters. Its discussions of 
farmer’s lore are broad and instructive ; its encourage¬ 
ments to intelligent rural life are many and various; its 
cheering words to the young hopes of the household will 
put a meaning into many an unfolding life ; and its am¬ 
ple pages will be found a treasury from which every 
dweller in the country can draw rich prizes." 
LOOKING-GLASSES. 
The manufacture of silvered mirrors, as at 
present carried on, is one of the most curious of 
modern arts. The process of thus silvering glass 
mirrors is very simple. The sheet of tin-foil some¬ 
what larger than the mirror, is laid upon a smooth 
table, and quicksilver poured over it until it covers 
the tin-foil with a thickness of one-tenth of an 
inch or more; when the mercury has been Bwept 
by the edge of a stick to clean off the drops from 
its surface, the glass plate, scrupulously clean, is 
brought even with the edge of the table, and 
pushed gently forward sideways, so as to slide 
over the bath of mercury, its edge just dipping be¬ 
neath its surface, so as to push before it all impuri¬ 
ties, and to exclude all air-bubbles. Weights are 
then evenly applied over the hack of the mirror, 
and the whole table inclined to such an angle as to 
favor the drawing off of the superfluous mercury. 
This requires Borne days or weeks, according to 
the size of the plate. Here is an additional risk 
and cost in large mirrors, since the time consumed 
is not small and the danger of fracture imminent 
The amalgam sometimes crystallizes, producing 
imperfections which require the renewal of the 
whole process; and the health of those engaged in 
it also suffers, and is finally destroyed by mercuria- 
al salivation.— Life Illustrated. 
A blind guide is certainly a great mischief; but 
a guide that blinds those whom he should lead is 
undoubtedly a much greater. 
WORK, AND THE LOVE OF IT, 
Messrs. Eds: —I have noticed that there has been 
quite a war between some of the Young Ruralists 
for a few weeks past, and I have wanted to help on 
one side or the other had enough, but thinking 
“ discretion the better part of valor,” I have con¬ 
tented myself by looking on. Now, I come in and 
take a view of the field, after the combatants have 
retired. If they are not throngh yet, I’ll back out 
quicker. The pen — a formidable weapon when 
wielded by a practiced hand—has been flourished 
pretty freely on both sides, and considerable ink 
shed, but I hope none of the competitors have 
been badly wounded. 
I agree with Harry Harris, when he says,— 
“some persons pretend they like to work, and I 
pretend to assert that that is absolutely false.” I 
don’t call it work to go into the garden and weed 
onions half an hour every day, or scatter the dirt 
around two dozen hills of beans; but to roll logs 
from six in the morning till sunset, or pick up 
stone and put them into heaps, or build fence with 
heavy oak rails, when a person will feel the next 
morning as if the cartilage was started from every 
joint— that's work ! It is not reasonable for me to 
suppose that a person should be censured for com¬ 
plaining of ''■constitutional weariness ' 1 ' 1 under such 
circumstances. 
I can see just how some of those would-be-in- 
dustrious persons work. “ 0, dear! I must put my 
gloves on, or these little delicate hands will be 
stained and sunburnt, and won’t be fit to be seen 
in a month ! “A man can be as honorable if he 
gets his living by his education as one who gets it 
by farming. The merchant is just as much en¬ 
titled to a place in society as the farmer; and al¬ 
though his work is not the same, his row is just as 
wide and loDg as any other. 
Many yonng men are persuaded that they must 
do just as their father's did, if they have been bro’t 
up on a farm they are good for nothing but farm¬ 
ers. That’s not so. Must I grow broom corn for 
a livelihood, just because my father did? I have 
lived on a farm for fifteen years, and worked too, 
and when I wanted a leisure moment I had to take 
it, for it never came to me. I have a “repug¬ 
nance” to farming, and I begin to think it’s 
"natural." Like the man who did not like to saw 
wood, “ I ain't built right /” 
You may think that I am lazy, bat there is no 
such word in my vocabulary,—though I had a very 
stronghint that way once when I did not hoe quite 
as much corn as my brother. But enough, let 
those farm it who like it Drawde. 
Beaver Dam, Wia., 1858. 
LETTER FROM A MINNESOTA BOY. 
Dear Rural:— I saw in a late number a letter 
from a correspondent in Oregon, and thought I 
would let your readers know something in regard 
to Minnesota, for I think it is one of the most de¬ 
sirable States in the Union. St Paul (the present 
capital) is on the east side of the Mississippi river. 
It contains about 15,000 or 10,000 inhabitants. In 
morals the present St Paul is not quite bo perfect 
as the one of old. However, it is to be hoped that 
as he grows older he will be steadier. 
There ia one peculiarity about Minnesota rather 
strange, viz.:— most of the rain falls in the night 
Minnesota is a land of flowers. No one will deny 
this who has been up here. The editor of the 
Pioneer and Democrat Bays:—“In a space of twenty 
acres we counted no less than forty-seven different 
varieties.” If that is not flowery what is? 
I have one fault to find with your paper, viz.:— 
you do not put any more articles on Natural His¬ 
tory in the Young Ruralists’ column. Now don’t 
think me fault-finding. I was almost afraid to 
write to you, but as you promised the young folks 
to put their articles in “ship-shape” and good 
order, I summoned up courage, and the “ deed is 
done.” Minnesota Boy. 
St. Paul, Oct., 1858. 
How to Preserve The Rural. —Can you tell ns 
how the Rural may pass through the hands of a 
half dozen individuals, be read and handled to 
satisfaction by each for one week, and be referred 
to every “ now and then ” till the close of the 
volume, and then be in a fit condition for binding ? 
I have tried reading aloud, so that one reading 
would do for all but to little purpose, as they have 
to be handled and seen, every inch of them, by all 
the family, before they are satisfied; so that at the 
close of the volume, I find that many of them are 
oat at the elbows.— Young Rubalist, Marion, N. Y. 
Remarks —We don’t know as we can help our 
young friend over the difficulty. As soon as a 
number has been read by the family, it should be 
filed with previous numbers. This is not only a 
convenience in referring to back numbers, but 
keeps them in good order. Any ingenious boy 
can make a good paper file. Try it, and if this 
fails, you will have to take two copies—one for 
present reading, and one for preservation. 
Fire-Eating.— I would like to be informed as to 
what “ fire-eaters ” use to prevent burning their 
mouths.—Y. L. C., Centralia, III. 
Remarks. — We keep onr mouth from being 
burned by being careful not to put anything hot 
into it. Some fire-eaters not only burn their 
mouths, but their fingers. Diluted sulphuric acid 
we believe is the preparation used by magicians 
and others to give their flesh the power of resisting 
the action of fire. Several applications is neces¬ 
sary. No sensible boy would think of putting Buch 
stuff in his mouth, or of trying such foolish and 
dangerous experiments. Leave such things to the 
clowns. 
Cabbage Rotting.— Will some of your readers 
inform me through the Rural what will prevent 
cabbage from rotting? My cabbage rotted last 
season when the heads first became firm and solid, 
and are affected this season.—A Young Rubalist. 
Williamsport, Pa., 1858. 
Stuffing Birds, &c. — Mrs. J. A., Paris, C. W.— 
The information needed yon will find in the first 
four numbers of the present year. 
