with my bands all over floor or suds, may be— 
and caught the little fellow up, and hugged and 
kissed him, just because rny heart was so full I 
Oould not help it. Josi ah used to laugh at me, 
and call me a Rilly thing, but somehow I think 
jt was nature in me.” 
Ah, these mothers—how many beautiful things 
they remember of the prosiest of us. They don’t 
see this dull, practical man or woman, that moves 
about absorbed in the daily duties of life, so much 
as the little prattling child that memory has 
hidden away in their heart of hearts, to live there 
in a perpetual freshness of youth. 
I looked at Setji, as he came in with the brim¬ 
ming pails of milk, and tried to imagine his huge 
red fists, “as soft and white as a snow (lake, but 
there was no picture daguerreotyped on my 
heart, and I only Bmiled at the thought Yet I 
think I felt more kindly towards him, and as he 
stood, stamping the snow from his heavy hoots, I 
thought how well it was for birn that one dear 
heart remembered “ alien Seth teas a baby." 
"It’s snowin'right smart, Miss Ijddy,” saidlie, as 
he stood by the hearth, unwinding the loDg woolen 
tippet from his neck—“ 1 reckon It’s a chance if 
you get to school to-morrow. The road will be 
pretty much blocked ’fore momin.' : 
“ I hope it will,” said the old lady, “she isn’t no 
more fit to go into school than I be to go to chop¬ 
ping wood. You neefl’nt laugh, child, you look a 
deal more like having a fever.” 
Bhe bustled about from kitchen to pantry, strain 
ing the milk and setting it away, and then Beth 
was ready for supper, and we three sat down at 
the table. 1V> three — how pleasant it might have 
been if some other three had been there in our 
places. It was a very comfortable room, and had 
a cheery look, with Its clean hearth and crackling 
fire—a nicely spread table, with its steam¬ 
ing coffee, golden butter, and generous pile of 
bread; not snowy "white, but that delicious creamy 
tint the epicure delights in. I was in no mood 
for eating, so I sipped my coffee and imagined. 
Suppose, Lydia, said 1 to myself, things were 
not just as they ur«\ Suppose Sets was somebody 
else. Eddy for instance, or—or—I>r. Harley. 
Then if the old lady wore a dark grey silk, with a 
neat cap and collar, instead of that blue and 
yellow calico, she would do very nicely to fill the 
arm-chair on that side of the table. This room is 
not bad, only 1 think I would have a picture or 
two on the walls, in place of those strings of red 
ami sweet corn; and I should rather like 
tops of the fences, and no one could get through 
the woods to school. I was glad to hear thus, for 
it gave me the prospect of a day of rest; and, 
with that strange feeling of weakness in every 
limb, I was willing to own I greatly needed it 
I kept my bed all day, wrote a little in my 
journal, tried to read, but my head grew con¬ 
fused, and somehow I could not understand. 
Towards evening a man on horseback came 
wading slowly up the lane, and then I heard a 
strange voice in the kitchen. Presently Mrs. 
Watson cume in, with her hands covered with 
flour,—she had been mixing biscuit—and told me 
that Dr. Eaton happened to be up this way, and 
had stopped in to warm; and she thought he had 
better come in and see me. " Happened,” thought 
1 to myself, as if a man rode round the country, 
through three feet, of snow, unless he was sent for; 
hut I said nothing, for the kind old sonl was 
delighted with her stratagem, and so Dr. Eaton 
came in. His breath was always odious enough 
with its freight of tobacco, and on this occasion 
I was uncharitable enough to smell brandy also, 
lam sure my fever rose several degrees at the 
very sight of him, and by the time he hud exam 
edmy pulBe, and asked me two or three questions, 
I could see that peculiar twinkle of satisfaction in 
his wicked grey eyes, that said plainly enough, as 
I had once heard him say of poor little Aggy Eke, 
‘•beautifully developed ease—chance for a fine 
rnn of fever”—as if the widow’s only darling was 
a mere manikin for him to experiment upon! 
He did not say much to me, but I heard him in 
the kitchen a long time, and, from the clatter of 
cups and saucers, 1 think he staid to tea. After 
ho rode away, Mrs. Watson came in with some 
I'mwdcrs in her band, and a glass of currant jelly. 
“There, dear,” said she, “this will cure you right, 
up, and I’ve fixed it in some of this nice jelly, so 
you wont taste it a speck.” 
“ 1 can’t take it,” I began in an excited manner, 
“I hau Doctor Eaton, and I shall die if I have to 
take his medicine. He killed Aogy, and he’ll kill 
me,” and I sank back upon the pillow and burst 
into tears. 
The good woman looked at me in perfect aston¬ 
ishment for a moment, and then, setting down the 
medicine, she came to the bedside and soothed 
me as if I had been a child; stroking my hair in 
her motherly way, that only made the tears How 
faster. Oh, my mother! how my heart cried out 
for you then—so sick, so weary, yet with no one 
in whose hands to trust myself implicitly; no one 
whose love and wisdom seemed great enough to 
venture upon. 1 was calmer after a while, and 
looking up into the kind face that bent over me, 
so troubled, so compassionate in its look, I half 
repented of my words, and told her 1 would take 
the medicine. She gave it to me quickly, as if 
afraid 1 should change my mind, and I swallowed 
it as quickly. “There,” said she, with a little 
sigh of relief, as she patted up my pillows, “ now 
you’ll sleep good all night,” The powder was 
brought him home. When Dr. Harley found 
there was’nt any other Doctor here, he said he 
would stop a day and take eare of him, and so be 
did. After Dr. Eaton came to, he said, ‘Well, 
I'm in a pretty bad fix.' ‘Yes.’ said Dr. Harley, 
‘and if you are not crippled for life yon will have 
reason to be thankful. 1 expected this when you 
left Westford.' Dr. Eaton turned very red, and 
said something about ‘not exposing kun for the 
credit of the profession, 5 but r don’t know what 
he could have meant by it. Well, the amount of 
it all was, that Dr. Harley came round next day 
to sec some of Dr. Eaton’s patients, and lie came 
in here just as I was getting scared a most out of 
my wits about yon; you was a raving and taking 
on so—just as crazy as a loon. I never saw a man 
act so queer as he did when he saw you. Ffe tried 
all he could to quiet you, and kept saying, 'my 
poor child, my little Hilly,' though what he 
meant is more than I can tell, for you didn’t look 
a hit like a lily, your face was as red as a piny. 
You got sicker and sicker all the time, till nobody 
around here thought you ever would get well; 
but Dr. Harley watched you night and day, as 
careful as if you had been his own sister, and I do 
believe, if it hadn’t been for him, you would have 
been in your grave this blessed minute. They 
say he baa been very attentive to poor Dr. Eaton, 
too, but it’s doubtful if he ever can walk again, 
his feet were frozen so bad, It will be a dreadful 
loss to Wellbridge if be lias to give up practicing. 
“ But liere it is most time for Dr. HaRley to be 
here, and I wantod to brush your hair and tidy up 
the room a little. Maybe 1 shall have time now 
before he gets here. 
“ We had to cut your hair off, and it seemed a 
dreadful pity, but there was such a heap of it we 
could’nt do much with it any way, and then it 
kept your head hot all the time. 1 laid it away 
in your room — though I didn’t much think yon 
ever would see it again — but ! saved out a lock 
of it, and thought, if yon shoo Id — if you didn’t 
get well,—that T would have it put in that pin 
Josei‘h' 3 wife gave me last Christmas. Well, it 
was the oddest thing, but when the Doctor came, 
in 1 was telling about my cutting it oil’, and 1 
showed him that lock, just to show how nice and 
long jt was, and he kept rolling it around his 
finger, as he sat talking, and then he got up kind 
of sudden, and went away, and l haven't seen that 
hair finer, though I’ve looked for it high and low. 
Widow Lee was in here, and she said most likely 
he tucked it in his pocket, he. seemed rather 
absent-minded, 'and I dare say didn’t rightly know 
what bo was about Anyway he is areal likely 
Man gocth forth unto hie work, and to hie labor until 
the evening.—Psalms, civ: 23 
Tub stream is calmest when it near, the tide, 
And (lowers aro sweetest at the eventide, 
And birds most tuneful at the close of day. 
And saints dirinost when they pass away. 
Morning is lovciy, bnt a holier eh arm 
ties folded close in Evening’s robe of balm, 
And wonry tnan must ever love her best; 
For Morning calls to toil, but Night brings rest. 
She oomes from Heaven, and un her wings doth bear 
A holy fragrance like the breath of prayer; 
Footsteps of angels follow in her trace. 
To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace. 
AH things are hashed before her, as she throw? 
O’er earth and sky hor mantle of repose; 
There is a calm, a beauty and a power, 
Tlwt Morning knows not, in the Evening hour. 
“ Until the evening” we must weep and toil, 
now life's stern furrows, dig the weedy soil, 
Tread with sad feet our rough and thorny way, 
And boar the heat and burden of the day. 
Oh, when our sun is setting, may we glide, 
lake summer evening, down the golden tide. 
And leave behind us, as we pass away, 
Sweet starry twilight round our sleeping day! 
[The editor of this brief but (w» trust) interesting deport¬ 
ment of the Rura i .° eminently a national man. and be¬ 
lieves in hitting or “ taking off” the aiUont points of ail 
political parties and prominent partisans. In treating upon 
men and pirties lie “knewR no North, no South, no East, 
no West.” He has prepared several Puneky illustrations of 
men and tilings political, the Erst of which appears arid 
reads as followoth, to wit: ] 
Por ** 
SPEAKER 
HOUSE 
eccu s 
MCGAGUS 
or 
. uesi peck 
DISSOLVING” THE UNION. 
[Written for Moore's Karal New-Yorker.] 
LYDIA MATHEWSON’S .JOURNAi 
Extra Billy Smith —“ This Union arrangement produ¬ 
ces most capital Egg A 'og, but it is so confounded slow 
in die,rotting, that if I wait until the Operation is com¬ 
pleted 1 am afraid I shall be moat dreadful thirsty ! The 
ingredient* are in beautiful proportion. The Sugar 
Plantation* of the South will supply the necessary saccha¬ 
rine principle, while the Joe of the North will keep itatan 
agreeable temperature. The Principality of New Jersey 
will furnish the Champagne flavor, and for the Egg part 
I shall put in the 1 Lay of the last Minstrel.'" 
BY EMILY C. HUNTINGTON. 
[Continued from page 36, last number.] 
Oct, 10f/i.—I have been out for a ramble in the 
woods. It is very beautiful now that the leaves 
are wearing their brilliant colors, and the sunlight 
seems only softened and subdued, not dimmed 
and saddened. The days will soon begin to seem 
old and weary, in spite: of their brightness, and 
theleaves will flutter down to quench their glow in 
the snows of November. We have no such trees 
in New England as make up the forests here; 
grand old monarch* they seem, yet 1 would give 
them all to stand to-day where the w ind is surging 
through the pines at the old, old home. 
Oct. 26th. —Mrs. Lkk has returned, but will 
board for the present, so I shall stay where 1 am, 
and continue my school through the’winter. 1 am 
getting much attached to my scholars, yet teach¬ 
ing is very wearisome to me. I hardly think it 
my mission. 
peppers 
a carpet on the floor, but l would’nt mind, if the 
people could only he changed. 1 think 1 could bear 
this headache, and this throbbing and burning in 
my throat, if only somebody’s dear eyes were 
watching me anxiously. I don't know what foolish 
thing I might have fancied, but just then Airs. 
Watson urged upon in!' a piece of her nice 
pumpkin pie, and 1 made some odd reply to her 
solicitations, for my thoughts were not fairly 
homo from dreamland, which set the kind old 
body to wondering if 1 was not crazy, and pro¬ 
voked Betii to boisterous laughter. 
“Guess your thoughts have been wool-gather¬ 
ing, Miss Linnv,” said he at last, blundering 
nearer the truth than usual. I made some at¬ 
tempts. at an excuse, and then withdrew to my 
corner, where 1 sat watching the curling steam 
pouring from the spout of tho tea-kettle, and the 
flames that went roaring and rolling up the black 
throat of the chimney, and strange, shapeless 
fancies went flitting through my brain, i had a 
dim impression of figures moving, and of voices 
about me, but everything else was drowned iu tho 
rushing of some great torrent, that seemed to he 
bearing me helplessly onward. I was sleeping I 
suppose, for, hy-and-hy, 1 awoke with ft start, ball 
strangled by my parched and burning throat, and 
a feeling at my lungs as if a volcano were pent up 
there, and Bending its red hot lava through every 
vein in my body. 
I opened my eyes, and looked around the room. 
Sbtu had gone off to bed; that was a relief, and 
Mrs. Watson sat by the little round stand busy 
with her darning. She rose and came to me, 
when she saw I was awake, and laid her motherly 
hand on iny forehead. "Bless me,” she exclaimed, 
“1 believe your blood is on fire. I was in hopeB 
you would feel better for sleeping a bit, so I 
didn't wake you, but you are going to be sick as 
- are as you arc born. I'll call Beth, and send for 
the Doctor this minute.” 
She was thoroughly frightened, and it was only 
by earnest entreaties that I succeeded in getting 
her to promise not to send for the Doctor until 
morning. “ I shall doctor you myself, then,” she 
declared emphatically, “ and if you don’t do just 
as I tell you, I’ll send off for Doctor Eaton 
For Moorc'a Rand New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 17 letters. 
My 4, 6,17 is the mane of a distinguished physician 
My 7,17,1, II, 10 is a city in one of the Western States. 
My 6, 7,14 is something you wear. 
My 2, 3, 4.13. 0, II, 10 is the name of a noted Senator. 
My 11,4,13,15 is a river in England 
My 7,17 8,15,10 is a county in Ohio. 
My Hi, 12, 6, 8,11,10,15 is a town in Ireland. 
My 12,15,16, 13 is n river in England. 
My 5,14, 8,10,17, lo, 10, 7 is an island famous for the 
banishment of a fallen Emperor. 
My whole is a command for all. 
County Line, N. Y.. 1860. Marshall. 
Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOMETRICAL PROBLEM. 
In the segment of a circle, the versed sine is 3 feet and 
8 inches, and the chord of the arc 19 feet. Required the 
diameter of the circle to which the segment belongs. 
Benuettsburgh, N. Y., 1860. H. D. Donnelly. 
C3F” Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A RIDDLE. 
Bepore my birth I have a name. 
But soon ns hero 1 lose the same; 
And when PjO laid within the tomb, 
1 do my father's name assume; 
I change my name three days together, 
Yet live but one lo any weather. 
St. Jerome, Canada East. I 860 . Robert Shaw. 
tffgT Answer iu two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c„ IN NO. 523, 
now 
March ilk— Another long gap in my journal, 
and 1 am almost discouraged at the thought of 
going back to fill it 1 am just recovering from a 
severe sickness, and can only write a little, as my 
strength is literally weakness; yet I want to write 
down some of the events of this illness as 1 
remember them, I remember several days of 
painful attendance to my school duties, when I 
was suffering from what I called a severe cold; 
of coming home one night, with a racking pain 
in every limb, and sitting despondingly in the 
chimney corner, while good Mrs. Watson related 
the remarkable antics of “Joseph’s little Billy,” 
who had been making a visit to his grandmother, 
and greatly delighted her by his precocity. 
“Joseph's wife thinks there never was such 
another young one in this living world,” said she, 
smiling over her knitting, “but that is pretty 
mucli the way with all mother’s, and I suppose its 
a good thing they should think so,” The needles 
clicked busily for a moment, and memory was 
busy too. 
“I remember when Seth was a baby,” said the 
dear old lady, stopping to wipe her spectacles. 
“ I used to be thinking about him every blessed 
minute that I was awake. I used to take his little 
mite of a hand in mine, just as white and soft as a 
snow-flake it was, and wonder if it ever would he 
big and brawny like his father’s. And then, when 
he began to toddle about the house, and say a few 
words in. his broken baby talk, it sounded just as 
sweet as a robin to me. 1 remember many a time 
in the middle of my work— 
Answer to Illustrated Rebus:—To be, or not to be, that 
Is the question. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—A virtuous woman 
is a crown to her huabund. 
Anstver to Biblical Enigma:—Chushan-riskathaim. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—$407. 
MOOKE'S RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
’> u 
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I>. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, x. y. 
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I've stopped right 
