364 
MOORE’S RURAL KEW-YO RKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
[Written for the Rural New-Yorker.1 
“WE SAIL UPON A SUMMER SEA.’’ 
BY J. C. MILLER. 
We sail upon a summer sea, 
With soft blue skies above- 
An airy, fairy bark within, 
And piloted by love. 
The waves before our golden prow 
Dissolve in pearly spray. 
As, swift before the singing breeze, 
We gaily glance away. 
Adieu, adieu, ye rosy bowers 
Where in our youth we met 
To gather flowers, whose glossy leaves 
With sliiuing dews were wet. 
i Sweet morning land! thy happy shore 
> Ls growing faint and dim, 
) A vague, uncertain line of light 
On the horizon’s rim. 
) Beyond that line so dimly seen 
Above the waters blue, 
l Are scenes we saw and learned to love 
S When life with us was new— 
) Are countless things which we beheld 
1 With ever new delight— 
f Things cherished long, which now have passed 
( Forever from our sight. 
( Away, away, no vain regrets, 
l For what is left behind; 
t Forgetful of the sunny Past 
) And to the Future blind, 
) We sail upon a summer sea 
l With soft blue skies above, 
( An airy, fairy bark within, 
1 And piloted by Love 1 
f Chardon, Ohio, 1854. 
I Jural JSktelj §Mk. 
[For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE STUDENT’S CAREER. 
A TALE OF EVERYDAY LIFE. 
BY EDWARD WEBSTER, ESQ. 
Impending difficulties, to the man who exer¬ 
cises a prudent foresight, usually appear much 
more formidable than they prove in fact. The 
very state of mind which causes a man to dis¬ 
cover obstacles while they are yet afar offi en¬ 
genders a habit of forestalling them, or of 
preparing himself to take advantage of any 
loophole which may present itself for escape 
when the obstacle can no longer be avoided. 
The experience of every person will readily 
suggest to him innumerable instances where 
the inevitable failure of some cherished scheme 
stares him in the face; when an impassable 
wall seems to tower up across his way which 
it appears impossible either to flank or to go 
over; yet, when the formidable obstacle is 
finally approached, a means of escape presents 
itself unexpectedly to view. Even if the 
cherished object has to be abandoned at last, 
however much the matter may be regretted at 
the time, it not unfrequcntly turns out that 
another presents itself in lieu thereof which in 
tho end proves even more fortunate than the 
first one promised. People sometimes repine 
at ill success, and afterwards, when more light 
is thrown upon the subject, have reason to 
thank God for the very disappointment over 
which they lamented. If a man falls prostrate 
in an encounter, let him rise with a courage 
undaunted for a second trial. Success will 
usually come at last, or if it do not come, far 
better is it 
“ To feel the lightning's shock 
Than perish piece-meal on the rock.” 
Very few will perish, however, if they call into 
earnest action all the powers God has given 
them; clouds will lower, darkness will over¬ 
shadow them, but the full glory of a cloudless 
sky usually succeeds the blackest tempest. 
Solomon Williams, the hero of our story, 
(if hero he may be called,) was not born with 
a silver spoon in his mouth; neither did he 
claim a long line of honorable ancestry, as is 
not unfrequcntly done when the descendant 
has himself no merit of which to boast.— 
Neither was the career of Solomon himself 
one of a startling or uncommon character. His 
struggles, reverses and disappointments, his 
triumphs and humble successes, are but a 
transcript of the every day experiences of hu¬ 
man life; and we warn the reader in the out¬ 
set, that he need look for nothing in Solomon’s 
history out of the ordinary events of common 
humanity. He grew up to early manhood 
with brothers and sisters in a humble house¬ 
hold, attended a district school with them and 
the neighbors’ children, without any remarka¬ 
ble developments above the general run of 
boys. Like every other young man, Solomon 
had aspirations, day-dreams of greatness, long¬ 
ings to rise in the world and to show the com¬ 
munity in which he lived that he, as well as 
others, was capable of some great achieve¬ 
ment What that achievement might be he 
had no very definite idea; a great poet, a 
great painter, a great orator, a great states¬ 
man, presented themselves to his imagination, 
each in turn. He tried his hand at versifica¬ 
tion, but his measures halted, his feet were out 
of joint, and his rhyme was faulty. The edi¬ 
tor of the village newspaper rejected his most 
cherished production. He essayed in secret a 
few amateur pictures; but in order to distin¬ 
guish one from the other or eliminate the 
painter’s idea, an outsider would have required 
a label on each, such as “ This is a horse”— 
“This is a dog.” So the pictures were very 
properly committed to the flames, lie spoke' 
once, or tried, in the village debating society, 
but the audience yawned and the president 
went to sleep in the course of his remarks.— 
1 le attended weekly, during a hot political cam¬ 
paign, at the club room of one of the parties, and 
once attempted a stump speech which he had 
committed, as he supposed, to memory; but 
forgot it on the stand, and retired in confusion, 
after giving utterance to half a dozen confused 
sentences. 
People, must not suppose from these illus¬ 
trations that Solomon Williams was a fool, or 
lacking in common sense. He was naturally 
shrewd enough, and promising enough. His 
were only the failures of an undisciplined mind, 
the crude workings of an untrained intellect, 
that will ever be attended with the like results. 
Gold must go through the fire to b.ecome re¬ 
fined; it maybe the fire in the laboratory of 
the chemist, or that of the deep blazing surges 
of the volcano. And the mind may become 
disciplined in the schools, or in the severe con¬ 
flicts of human life. 
Solomon followed the plow for a living, at 
least through his earlier years, and until an 
event occurred that changed the whole current 
of his subsequent life. That event was a love 
affair, as he himself is accustomed to declare; 
and when narrating it, even at this day, is as 
enthusiastic as if he was even now indulging 
in “ Love’s young dream.” 
“There was heaven,” says Solomon, “in her 
mild blue eye! I never imagined until 1 saw 
her that I was blessed with the vision of an 
angel in human form. That was the poetry 
of numan life, to be followed by long years of 
trying and struggling prose. She came to our 
house the first time 1 saw her with a mutual 
friend, on a visit to my sisters; and the im¬ 
pression she made on me at that time has not 
been effaced to this day. It was on a Sunday 
afternoon they called, when the glory of an 
Indian Summer was at its height, and we all 
took a walk together down beside the brook, 
previous to attendance at an evening meeting 
in the school house. There were half a dozen 
of us together, and Bess (that was what they 
called her) walked with me. I pulled up a 
mullein stalk crooked at the root in the shape 
of a convenient walking stick, and made room 
for her tiny hand upon the handle. NVe some¬ 
how got separated from our companions in the 
ramble, and as our hands met upon the 
crooked root of our rude walking stick, the 
touch of her fingers thrilled over me like a 
spark of electric fire.” 
Solomon, by his own confession, was a lost 
man, so far as a sound heart was concerned. 
He managed to meet his charmer several 
times before she left the neighborhood, and 
was received by her with a good deal of favor 
—so much, indeed, that it emboldened him to 
obtain a promise to answer a communication he 
might send her through the mail. The lover’s 
dreams, as is usual in all such cases, were of a 
very blissful character. IIis letters were 
promptly and delicately answered, and he at 
last mustered courage sufficient to visit the 
neighborhood of his lady love, for the purpose 
of calling on her. His reception was flatter¬ 
ing indeed, and, prompted by his success, he 
made bold to ask permission to repeat his 
visits at stated times. Fearing, however, the 
effect of too great pressure for an immediate 
answer, he requested her to think of it for a 
couple of weeks and then reply to him by 
mail. Confident of success, the youth passed 
the blissful interval in anticipation of a favor¬ 
able answer, and was taken aback by an un¬ 
favorable one, like a ship under full canvass 
when struck by an adverse squall. 
The idea then Hashed across his mind for 
the first time that he had been victimized; led 
on in the seductive mazes of a lover’s dance 
just to be shoved to the wall at the end of the 
figure and laughed at for his folly. Honest of 
purpose himself, straight-forward and upright 
in intention, this false play on the other side 
was as unexpected as it was galling. 
“ I’ll see her,” he said, “ and learn from her 
own lips the truth, if possible; and if she has 
been trifling with me, then farewell to all these 
dreams! 1 will forswear the sex forever, and 
betake myself to some pursuit that at least 
shall secure my own self respect The un¬ 
grateful minx, to use me in this way! I would 
have suflered martyrdom rather than have de¬ 
ceived a woman as 1 have been myself deceiv¬ 
ed!” So saying, he made early preparation to 
visit the town where the young lady resided, 
and putting ou as much dignity and firmness 
as he could well command, sought an inter¬ 
view with her, and, without much circumlocu¬ 
tion, entered upon the object of his visit. 
“ You answered by letter as was agreed up¬ 
on between us,” he began. 
“Yes;” responded the girl, patting with her 
pretty foot upon the floor. 
“ Forgive me for asking these questions,” he 
said, “but I am desirous of a true statement 
from your own lips. Was your answer the 
unbiased sentiment of your own heart?” 
She hesitated a little, but gave him finally 
an affirmative answer, or at least one he un¬ 
derstood to be such. 
“Is there no probability of your thinking 
differently,” he continued, with some manifes¬ 
tation of feeling in spite of himself. 
“None, at least for the present.” 
“ Then farewell,” he said, rising; “ I certain¬ 
ly have been misled; perhaps it was my own 
fault in being too credulous, but I will trouble 
you no more. Our journeys through life 
henceforth lay a wide way apart, and I should 
be sorry to look back upon one whom 1 have 
regarded as superior to most of her sex with 
any spirit of unkinduess.” So saying, he rose 
with more dignity than one would suppose him 
capable, and withdrew from the house; while 
Bess continued to gaze after his retreating 
figure with a moisture in her eye and a shade 
upon her fair brow, which seemed to belie the 
heartlessness of the coquette. 
“Farewell to day dreams now,” mentally 
ejaculated Solomon. “ I have been made a 
fool of by a girl—not the first one iu this pre¬ 
dicament I suspect—and my future life must 
make atonement for the follies of the past.” 
Solomon Williams had been left a small 
legacy by his grandfather, which now, by the 
accumulations of interest, amounted to several 
hundred dollars. He had just arrived at the 
period of majority, and had been paid off by 
the Trustees so “ layiug down the shovel and 
the hoe,” he betook himself straightway to the 
academy, greatly to the surprise of all his 
friends, and commenced there another kind of 
conjugation than the one he had previously an¬ 
ticipated, viz., the conjugation of Greek and 
Latin verbs; and rather awkward work he 
made of it, at first. Rough iti exterior and 
dress, unpolished in manners, and bashful with¬ 
al, he was for a time a subject for the practi¬ 
cal jokes of his fellow students; but his ster¬ 
ling good sense and propriety of conduct soon 
won him the respect of all. So rapid and ef¬ 
ficient was his progress, that at the end of the 
preparatory course he was awarded the post 
of honor at the Commencement, and delivered 
the valedictory oration. 
He was not a little elated at the preference 
awarded him, and still more so when his quick 
eye caught among the audience the sunny face 
of his quandam sweetheart; sunny but thought¬ 
ful, and full of apparent interest in the success¬ 
ful performauce of his part. He exchanged sal¬ 
utations with her after the exercises closed, and 
was congratulated upon the merit of the per¬ 
formance. 
“ 1 leave,” he said, “ next week for college, and 
if successful A my examination and admit¬ 
tance shall be absent from home four years.” 
“That is a long time” she answered; “your 
friends will hear from you iu the mean time ?” 
“ Yes, occasionally, but I have chosen an¬ 
other mistress of my affections, who must 
henceforth receive my chief attentions.”— 
Bess’ countenance fell at the abrupt declara¬ 
tion, but cleared away again as he added : 
“ That mistress is science, whose servant I have 
sworn myself to be henceforth.” So they 
parted, he to enter upon his difficult and ar¬ 
duous career, rendered still more difficult and 
arduous by the pecuniary embarrassments that 
surrounded his path, and she to return home 
and brood over the lover she had lost, or con¬ 
sole herself with another, as to her might 
seem most advantageous and desirable. 
[7b be Continued.'] 
SCENE IN A RAILROAD CAR. 
The seats of the car were all occupied.— 
Not wishing to disturb those who were seated, 
1 was intending to stand, but a gentleman up 
at the far end arose and insisted upon my tak¬ 
ing his seat. Being very tired, I thanked him 
and obeyed. 
Presently a young lady, much younger, 
much prettier, and better dressed than myself, 
entered the car. No less than four gentlemen 
arose, instantly offering her aseat. She smiled 
sweetly and uuafleetedly, and thanking the 
gentleman who urged the seat nearest to her, 
she seated herself with a peculiar grace of 
manner, 
She had one of these faces Raphael was al¬ 
ways painting—touching, sweet, expressive. 
A little after this young beauty had taken 
her seat, a poor woman, looking very thin and 
very pale, with that care-worn, haggard look, 
that poverty, and sorrow, and hard labor al¬ 
ways give came in. She might have been one 
of those poor seamstresses who work like 
slaves, and—starve for their labor. She was 
thinly and meanly clad, and seemed weak and 
exhausted. She had, evidently, no sixpence to 
throw away, and came into the car not to stand 
but to rest, while she was helped along in her 
journey. 
While she was meekly standing for the mo¬ 
ment, none of the gentlemen (?) offering to 
rise, Raphael’s angel, with sweet reproving 
eyes, looked on those who had so officiously 
offered her a seat, and seeing none of them at¬ 
tempt to move, and just as 1 myself was rising 
to give the poor old lady a seat, she arose and 
insisted upon the woman taking hers. 
It was all the work of a moment; and the 
look of grateful surprise the old woman gave 
her, and the glance of sweet pity the beautiful 
girl bestowed upon the woipau as she yielded 
her seat, and the evident consternation of tho 
broadcloth individuals, who were manifestly 
put to shame, all were to me irresistibly inter¬ 
esting and instructive.— Day Book. 
1101. 
COUSININO. 
A country gentleman lately arrived in Bos¬ 
ton, and immediately repaired to the house of 
a relative, a lady who had married a merchant 
of that city. The parties were glad to see him, 
and invited him to make their house his home, 
as he declared his intention of remaining in the 
city but a day or two. The husband of the 
lady anxious to show his attention to a relative 
and friend of his wife, took the gentleman’s 
horse to a livery stable in Hanover street. 
Finally, the visit became a visitation, and 
the merchant, after the lapse of eleven dayst, 
found besides lodging and boarding the gen¬ 
tleman, a pretty considerable bill had run up 
at the livery stable. 
Accordingly he went to the man who kept 
the livery stable and told him when the gen¬ 
tleman took his horse he would pay the bill. 
“ Very good,” said the stable-keeper, “ 1 un¬ 
derstand you.” 
Accordingly, in a short time, the country 
gentleman went to the stable and ordered his 
horse to be got ready. The bill, of course 
was presented. 
“Oh!” said the gentleman, “Mr.-, my 
relative will pay this.” 
“Very good, sir,” said the stable-keeper. 
“ Please to get an order from Mr.-, it will 
be the same as money.” 
The horse was put up again, and down went 
the country gentleman to Long Wharf where 
the merchant kept. 
“ Well,” said he, “I am going now.” 
“ Are you?” said the merchant, “Wei!, good 
bye, sir!” 
“ Well, about the horse, the man says the 
bill must be paid for his keeping.” 
“Well, I suppose that is all right, sir.” 
“Yes—well, but you know I'm your wife’s 
cousin.” 
“ Yes,” said the merchant, “ I know you arc, 
but your horse is not!” 
Mill's totter. 
Memoranda of an Accomplished Young 
Lady. —The Buffalo Republic says, we recent¬ 
ly picked up the following memoranda, which 
we saw dropped by a young lady attired in an 
embroidered velvet Talma, an exquisite Honi- 
ton lace collar, a white hat and plume, and a 
painfully brilliant silk dress, with exaggerated 
flounces: 
“ I must get a—Vail, Broun hoes, 
Sarceknet, I raise, 
Gluvs, Shimmyzet, 
Kulone.” 
We confess we were startled at the last item, 
but think it means cologne. The whole sim¬ 
ply proves that wealth and intellect do not al¬ 
ways hunt in couples. 
A fellow went to the parish priest and told 
him with a very long face that he had seen a 
ghost. 
“ When and where?” inquired the pastor. 
“Last night,” replied tho timid man; “I was 
passing by the church, and up agaiast the wall 
did I behold the spectre.” 
“ In what shape did it appear?” said the 
priest. 
“ It appeared to be the shape of a great ass.” 
“ Go home and hold your tongue about it,” 
rejoined the pastor; “-you are a very timid 
man, and have been frightened at your own 
shadow.” 
Teaching the Young Idea how to Shoot. 
—A lady on being told that a friend wished 
to see her, desired her liitle daughter, about 
eight or nine years of age, to say that she was 
not in; upon this the friend, being anxious to 
have an interview, asked the child when her 
mother would be likely to return. The little 
thing very innocently said, calling up stairs, 
“ Mamma, the lady wishes to know when you 
will be in?” 
“Sally Mander safe!”said Mrs.Partington, 
as her eyes fell upon an advertisement “ Ho 
tell me, Isaac, who this Sally Mander is, and 
what she’s been doing that they’ve got her 
safe.” 
“ I don’t know what she’s been a doing,” 
said Ike, “ but I guess she’s a sister to Jerry.” 
“ Jerry who, Isaac?” 
“ Why, Jerry Mander,” said Ike. 
Accommodation. —Strict Business Man — 
“ Patrick, hereafter 1 want you to commence 
work at five o’clock and quit at seven.” 
Patrick—“Sure, and wouldn’t it be as well 
if I’d commence in the morning at seven suid 
leave off at five in the evening?” 
When Surali Jane, the moral Miss, 
Declares “’tin very wrong to kiss,” 
I really think that I see through it; 
The lady fnirly understood, 
Feels just as any Christian should—■ 
She’d “ rather “ sufkku wiong than jx> it.’’ 
A youngster being chased by a cow, wliilo 
on his way to school, ran into a thicket, and 
not returning home till late, was asked by his 
mother, “where he had been;” 
“A cow hiding, mu!” was the precocious reply 
of the little fellow. 
An Irishman being asked on a late trial for 
a certificate of his marriage, bared his head, 
and exhibited a huge scar, which looked as 
though it might have been made with a fire- 
shovel. The evidence was satisfactory. 
Old bachelors do not live as long as other 
men. They have nobody to mend their clothes 
or darn their stockings. They catch cold, and 
there is nobody to make them peppermint tea, 
consequently they drop off. 
The snobs wear blue coats and brass but¬ 
tons. The blue is indicative of their feel 
ings; tho brass of their manners. 
9“ Answer in two weeks. 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 17 letters. 
My 7, 16, 8 is a color. 
My 2,14, 5 is to cut. 
My 4, 6, 1 is a drunkard. 
My 12, 3, 10 is many. 
My 9, 17, 11 is a conjunction. 
My 13, 6, 15 is a plant. 
My whole by turns controls and governs the 
world. 
Root, N. Y., 1854. C. n. 
jpgP Answer next week. 
CHARADE. 
Tim greatest contrasts mark my first— 
’Tie praised, abused, the best, the worst l 
Preferred before the good and great, 
Yet with the beggar at your gale. 
At Court admitted—oft with fear 
Lest it should reach a monarch’s ear; 
Yot courts of law it much frequents 
In search of law and precedents, 
Good, vicious, false, and true—in brief, 
Favors the plunder’d and the thief. 
Is truth itself—a very lie,— 
Loud tounged, and silent in the eye, 
Or gently whispers in a sigh 
The lover’s charm. 0 lady fair, 
Of the known faithlessness beware; 
Yet should my first your lover make, 
My second be, or second take 
Precedence first, then drop behind, 
And the two things be one combined— 
Accept tho.promise or his tender, 
And to his heart your heart surrender. 
[Blackwooda Mac 
9“ Answer next week. 
Answer to Illustrated ltebus No. 44 .—A re¬ 
tainer at the bar. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 44.— 
Economy and perseverance. 
Answer to Enigma in No. 44.— Dear. 
Messrs. Eds :—The answer given to Mathe¬ 
matical Question in No. 43, shows a remarkable 
combination of the Arabic numerals, but is not 
correct,inasmuch as the third number is not tho 
“ sum of two numbers,” but a product of one 
number by another. Let me give you the fol¬ 
lowing, which complies literally with the terms 
of the proposition : 
4261538709 
3958207641 
8219746350 
SHEEP FOR SALE. 
I have Sheep (both Bucks and Ewes,) of tho following 
breeds, for sale, at reasonable prices,—French and Spanish 
Merinos, pure breed; also, crosses of tho two breeds, from 
to % ; also, Leicester and South-Downs, pure bred, and 
crosses of the same. These Sheep are from, or descended 
from the docks of the well-known breeders of pure bied 
Sheep, Messrs. Jewett, llurntt, Avt ry,Wakeman,M’Intyre, 
Brodie, Ac. For further particulars address me (post¬ 
paid.) at Belleville, Jefl'urson Go., N. Y. 
262-4muow E. G. COOK. 
EYE AND EAR INFIRMARY. 
Du. Walkkk, Oculist and Auriet, (from London, Eng¬ 
land,) may be consulted daily, and testimonials obtained 
at the oflice, 82 State St., Rochester, N. Y, 242-tf. 
JUtC Mr. C. Moork, of Gerry, Chau. Co., is authorized 
to act as Agent for the Rubai. N kw-York kr, and for the 
Wool Grower and Stock. Rhojstkr, in the counties of 
Chautauque and Cattaraugus, N. Y., and Warren, Pa. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
18 PUULlSlilfl) KVKRY SATUKDAT, 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Subscription — $2 a year — 44 for six months. To 
Clnbs and Agents as follows :—Three Copies one year, for 
$6; Six Copies (and one to Agent or getter up of club,) 
for $ 10 ; Ten Copies (and one to Agent,) for 415; Twenty 
Copies for $25, and any additional number, directed to 
individuals at the same rate. Six months subscriptions in 
proportion. As we are obliged to pro-pay the American 
postage on papers sent to tho British Provinces, our Cana¬ 
dian agents and friends must add 25 cents per copy to the 
club rates of the .'uttAL, —making the lowest price to Cana¬ 
dian subscribers f 1 >0 per year. 
|3T Subscription money, properly enclosed, may be sent 
by mail at the risk of tho Publisher. 
The posta ,> on the Rural is but cents per quar¬ 
ter, payable in advance, to any pint of the State — and 0X 
cents to any part of the United States,— except Monroe 
County, where It goes free. 
Advbktiminu.—B rief and appropriate advertisements 
will be inserted at 91,50 pur square, (ten lines, or 100 
wurda,) or 15 cents per line — in advance. The circulation 
of the Rural Nkw-Yorkkr is several thousand greater 
than that of any other Agricultural or similar journal in 
America. Patent medicines, fcc., will not be advertised in 
this ptqier ou any terms. 
far All oominnuications, and business letters, should 
ho addressed to D. D. T. Moork, Rochester, N. Y. 
