260 
*8 RURAL RRW-YORRSR. 
MIDSUMMER. 
BT ISAAC IlCtlllAH. 
Red mLItturorner in bright with glare, 
There in a drowsy calm in the air, 
The delicate locust leaf lien still, 
The chestnut woods droop or« the hi®, 
The thistle-down doth larl/y float 
Adown the air with its silken boat, 
Scarcely the go Warner cobwebs’ thread 
Floats out its streamer overhead; 
There's scarce a whisper, itcaroe a hum, 
For the sultry noon la sleepy and danrl*. 
Id the meadow*, the mowers throw 
Their scythes aside in the hay winrow, 
Under a canopied beech they lie 
To rest and slumber till noon goes by, 
Or seek some grotto, all green and cool, 
Or bathe their brows in the icy pool. 
The cattle cense in the fields to feed, 
The browsing sheep’flock, and the steed; 
Through the salt nnd reedy river grass 
In long procession slowly they pass; 
Then wading out In the grateful wave, 
Their flanks in the cooling tide they lave 
Wine and brilliant the axure deep 
Of the Armament spread# its circling sweep, 
No living breeze in the realms of space 
To waft the floating clouds o’er its face; 
Clouds that like snowy sheep-flocks rest 
Asleep on the sky's cerulean breast; 
Straight in the air, like a stately palm, 
The azure smoke from village and farm 
Ascends in the universal calm. 
In the pasture-oak trees' lofty top, 
Weary the thievish blackbirds drop; 
The robin redbreast’s pinion is hid 
In the motionless cedar’s pyramid; 
The blue wood-pigeons seek their tent 
Where the densest houghs of the wood are bent; 
The feather'd choir, whose madrigals sweet 
Enchant the ear in each green retreat, 
Is silent all in the burning heat. 
No raurmnr, no sound, in the air doth pass, 
Save the grasshopper's euddeu whirr in the grass, 
Or chirp of the cricket, or locust's drum, 
Or the roving honeybee’# drowsy hum, 
For the hot midsummer days are here 
To kindle the languid atmosphere. 
In city alley, In shadeless square, 
The heat Intense glows everywhere; 
Full many, 1 ween, that walk the street 
ftigh long for the country’s dim retreat, 
For a plunge In the stream’s refreshing tide. 
Or an icy draught from the river side; 
Fain would the patient printer forsake 
Ula form and his type for the wood and lake. 
For a stroll through the fields of his youth again, 
For an idle ramble o'er bill snd plain, 
.Rejoicing to loiter in busby dell, 
Or drain “ the bucket that hangs in the wclL” 
Journal of Commerce. 
is ji,r t J vie.11* Uf.iNse v 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
TWO WAYS TO GET RICH. 
BY EMILY C. HUNTINGTON. 
The vacant lot at the end of Maple Avenue was 
filled at last. People had looked admiringly at 
the beautiful situation for years, and wondered if 
old Captain Jacobs would ever build upon it. 
But the old gentleman kept his own counsels, and 
no one was any the wiser for his intentions, until 
one morning the neighbors looked out of their 
windows in astonishment, to see laborers actually 
at work, digging iwo most unsightly holes in the 
smooth green turf of that very vacant lot. In 
leBB time than such things are usually accom¬ 
plished, two very pretty cottages grew up there* 
not by any means “without sound of hammer,” 
but with the customary sounds of sawing and 
pounding, and many a nervous body “thanked 
her stars” when the last nail was driven, and Ma¬ 
ple Avenue subsided into its accustomed quiet. 
And now the wonder began to be, who wonld live 
in the cottages. Prudent householders, anxious 
for the respectability of the neighborhood, hoped 
some good families would move in — by good, 
meauing “our set,”—while their leas exclusive 
children as fervently hoped there would be a fresh 
arrival of boys and girls, brim full of fun and 
frolic, it mattered little whether they should wear 
velvet or homespun. 
The matter was settled very soon after the cotr 
tages were finished, and those who were fortunate 
enough to be on the Ihofe-ont saw two young men 
walk up the Avenue arm and arm, enter first one 
of the houses and then the other, and carefully 
inspect every part. They seemed very well satis¬ 
fied with the result of the examination, and, after 
pacing up and down the green lawii9 a few mo¬ 
ments, walked away down the Avenue, leaving 
several of the neighbors in an uncomfortable 
state of curiosity to know “who on earth they 
could be.” You and J, Reader, have the advan¬ 
tage of them, for we know just who they were, at 
least I do, and I was just going to tell you that 
Cyrus Bond and bis “brother-in-lore,” Oliver 
Dean, were two young men who had just been 
sent to Windsor by a wholesale commission mer¬ 
chant, to open a large receiving house for grain 
and produce. The young men were moreover re¬ 
cently married, and, as any one might have 
known from the expression o:' importance nnd 
satisfaction on their faces, were about to com¬ 
mence housekeeping iu the new cottages. 
“Wc shall certainly be pleasantly situated,” 
said young Dean, whirling the key upon his fin¬ 
ger; “ those little boxes arc just the thing for ns, 
— they have such a cozy look. 1 do detest these 
great tenement houses, where they stow away a 
dozen families together, like pigeons in a con¬ 
jurer’s hat,—one is always wondering where they 
all come from, or go to.” 
“ This is a fine place,” said his companion, 
pointing to an elegant mansion they were just 
passing; “ wonder who lives here?” 
“That must be Captain Jacobs' house; they 
said he lived on this street; he owns the cottages, 
you know. He is rich as a Jew, but I really 
think be bears the burden admirably. I’ve beard 
him actually laugh, a good hearty laugh, like any 
poor fellow with only two anti-sixpence a day.” 
“1 can tell you one thing, Oliver,” said Cyrus 
B onn, with a sort of impatient compression of his 
mouth, “I am deteiruined nut to be a mere plod 
der all the days oi my life. I will be as rich as 
Captain Jacobs before my head is as white as his 
is. Carrie and 1 are agreed about this, aud we 
have both made up our minds to commence at the 
very ootset, with this in view.” 
"Well,” said Dean, “Nettie and 1 have made 
up our minds to take all the comfort we possibly 
can in life, and, I hope, to do all the good we can 
too. At any rate, 1 sha'nt trouble myself with 
trying to gather up riches for old age. Like as 
any way I never shall live to be an old man, and 
if I do, I may have the gout, and the rheumatism, 
and the blue-devils, so it will never matter wheth¬ 
er I am rich or poor. I believe in the school boy 
philosophy,—eat your cake when you arc sure 
of it.” 
“ Without any regard to economy and pru¬ 
dence ?” 
“Certainly not, but a great deal that is called 
prudence is really parsimony,— a sort of covet¬ 
ousness, that leads people to cheat themselves out 
of the comforts of life for the sake of hoarding 
up for the future, and the future after all is only a 
possibility. We only make one journey through 
life, and most of its treasures lie along the way, 
were we must enjoy them as we pass, or not at all; 
it is useless to think of gathering them up and 
carrying them on to some distant spot, where we 
fancy we can sit down and enjoy them better.” 
The yonng men walked on silently for a mo¬ 
ment, and then Bond said,—“ I don’t see bat your 
philosophy amounts exactly to the old maxim, 
‘Spend all you got, snd get all you can.’ I hope 
you won’t ask me to endorse for you when you 
get in debt.” 
“Don’t be alarmed,” said yonng Dean, laugh¬ 
ing; “I assure you I keep too sharp an eye to 
comfort ever to make a galley slave of myself by 
running in debt, and as for spending all I get, I 
make it a point to lay up something every year, 
if it is only five dollars, just for the satisfaction 
of feeling that 1 have lived within my income. 
No, my dear fellow, you don’t understand my phi¬ 
losophy. I only object to your saying, 'I am go¬ 
ing to be rich at all events,’ and setting that be 
fore you as the end aud aim to lie reached at all 
sacrifices. 1 only fear you will sacrifice a greater 
good to a less. 1 don’t appreciate poetry as a 
general tiling, but I remember reading something 
like this— 
“In gazing on the star, wt* crush 
The heart’s ease at our feet,” 
The young housekeepers took possession of 
their new homes with a great deal of satisfaction, 
and very charming homes they were, with their 
simple but tasteful furnishing; very much alike 
in the main, though Oliver Dean had provided 
several articles of comfort for his house which 
his friend had dispensed with as unnecessary. 
There was a quarter of an acre of land behind the 
cottages, divided by abroad walk running through 
the middle, which was rented with the Iioubcs as 
a garden spot One evening, shortly after they 
were settled, Mr. Dkan called at a tool store on 
his way home, and purchased a spade and hoe. 
“What are you going to do now?” asked his 
friend, who was with him. 
“ Going to make my gardCD,” was the reply, aB 
the yonng man shouldered his tools. 
“ But it is too late to do anything with a garden 
now,— almost June.” 
“ Itatlier late, to be sure, but time for a great 
many tliiugB to grow before frosts will come, and 
we shall have fresh vegetables after they are gone 
in market Think of a dish of green peas in Au¬ 
gust and I irna beans and green corn in October! 
Then Nettie wants a place for flowers, and I want 
a chance for a little active exercise these long 
mornings,” 
“I have a plan of occupying my leisure hours 
in a more profitable way.” 
“I doubt that You had better look out or 1 
shall get rich first, in spite of yonr resolves. It 
looks like a poor piece of economy to let a fine 
piece of land lie useless all summer.” 
“Which I assure you I have no idea of doing, 
and, to prove mysupeiior skill in management, 
let me tell you that I rented my garden this morn¬ 
ing to Larky, one of the railroud bauds, for a 
good round sum, too,—enough to supply us with 
vegetables five times over.” 
Oliver Dean looked at his companion with an 
amused smile, and asked, 
“What is he goiug to do with it?” 
“He did not say definitely,—raise a crop of po¬ 
tatoes, 1 believe.” 
“And suppose he chooses to raise something 
else,—pigs, for instance?” 
“1 don't think he would find the soil adapted to 
them,” was the laughing reply, as the two friends 
separated at their own doors. 
The next morning Larky made his appearance 
at an early hour, and began hi6 preparations to 
plant the garden with potatoes. For more than a 
week he was at work there nights and mornings, 
keeping the whole premises scented with the 
abominable perfume of bis tobacco pipe, which 
never left his mouth. Both families were relieved 
when the planting was finished, but young Dean 
shook his head suspiciously, as he saw that a cor¬ 
ner next the back street bad been left vacant. 
Just as the potatoes began to make themselves 
visible above the ground, the two young men 
went away for a couple of days on business, and, 
like dutiful and loving husbands, took their wives 
with them. It was late in the evening when they 
returned, and they did not notice any thiDg amiss; 
but, long before sunrise the next morning, Oliver 
Dean was staitled by sundry ominous sounds of 
grunting and squealing. 
“ I’ll warrant the pigs have got into my gar¬ 
den,” said he, hurrying to the window, and throw¬ 
ing back the blind. One hasty glance assured 
him that his own premises were safe, but the next 
called forth an exclamation of vexation, and then 
a hearty laugh, in whioh his wife was not at all 
dbposed to join, as she too looked from the win¬ 
dow, and saw what had excited her husband’s 
merriment In that auspicious comer of the po¬ 
tato field, an uncouth pen had been constructed, 
of rough, black-looking boards, and was occupied 
by two as ungainly, long-nosed porkers as ever re¬ 
joiced an Irish man's heart. 
“ Won’t Cyrus be mad,” Baid Dean, pausing to 
try and summon bis gravity. “I told him Larry 
might ruise a crop of pigs there.” 
“It’s too bad,” said Nettie, indignantly, “if 
we have got to put up with such a nuisance all 
summer; but I know Cyrus won’t have them 
there.” 
“1 don’t see how he is goiDg to help himself, 
ne has rented the land for bo many months, snd, 
unless ho stipulated to the contrary, Larry can 
raise whatever he pleaseB there.” 
In the course of an hour Cyrus Bond discov¬ 
ered the ornamental addition to his grounds, and, 
as might have been expected, wsb worked up to a 
high pitch of indignation. IDb friend with diffi¬ 
culty prevented him from tearing down the pen 
and turning the pigs into the street “ You had 
better keep quiet about it Cyrus,” said be, “the 
fellow certainly haB the advantage of you, and 
yonr only hope is in buying him off. If yon get 
him angry, he will hold you to your bargain, as 
he certainly can if he tries.” 
When Larry made his appearance, with his 
pipe in his mouth, and liis pails of swill iu his 
hands, Oliver in a good-natured way tried to talk 
with him about putting his pigs somewhere else, 
but to very little purpose. 
“Ye see, snr,” said Larry, “it’s the convan- 
ientest place in the world for me. I coom right 
up this back strate from uie work, and lift the 
swill from the big bouse fernenst ye, so I can feed 
me pigs before I go home. It’s a moBt sb handy 
as kapin ’em right in the house, as they do in 
blissed ould Ireland.” 
Oliver Dean exhausted all his arguments in 
vain, and then gave the matter up to Cyrus, who 
talked both himself and Larky Into a towering 
passion, and the matter ended for the time by his 
threatening to shoot the pigs, and Laury’b de¬ 
claring he “would not be chafed by a line jontle- 
man, and he wonld have the law of him if he in- 
terfared with his property.” 
Things went on in this way for a couple of 
weeks, until, as the weather waxed warmer, the 
swill barrels became intolerable neighbors. Add¬ 
ed to this, tho pen was almost under the parlor 
windows of the family next to the cast, who felt 
themselves so much outraged that llit-y openly de¬ 
clared war against the Bonds. A disagreeable 
neighborhood quarrel seemed likely to result, 
when Cyrus, in a moment of desperation, told 
Larry that if he would remove his pigs he might 
have the ubc of the land gratis until his potatoes 
were dug. 
“ Thus endeth the first lesson said Oliver to 
his wife, as the last board disappeared, “ but I 
doubt if Cyrus profits much by it” 
“ What iu the world do you do with yourself all 
the time wo are out of the store, Cyrus ?” asked 
Oliver, one day, of his friend. “I scarcely ever 
see yon at home, and I am really afraid you are 
getting dissipated. Now I think of it, you do 
look thin aud pale.” 
“None 'use. 1 never was better in my life, only 
these nervous lieadaohes that 1 always was sub¬ 
ject to. I was up rather later than usual last 
night; 1 bad some work that I was obliged to 
finish. You see I am writing in Mr. Capkon’s 
office. Er> is going to be away several mouths, and 
I told CAPRON that 1 had so much time out of the 
Store that I thought I could do bis writing, if be 
would let me do it nights and mornings. It is 
rather Confining for me, but lie pays liberally, and 
it seemed a pity to waste so much time when I 
might nearly double my earnings.” 
“ It is ft greater pity to waste so much of the 
health and strength which happens to be all the 
Btock in trade you and I possess,” suid Oliver 
earnestly. “Our work during the hours we are in 
the store is severe nnd wearisome; it is all we are 
either of us able to endure without injury, aud to 
add the confinement and exhaustion of six or 
seven hours close writing to this, seems to me to 
be folly,” 
“It came a little hard at first, but 1 am getting 
used to it, aud, even if it does wear upon me a 
little, it is not to last long and 1 shall soon get 
recruited.” 
“That is a mistake of yours, iny friend. \ r ou 
have a definite amount of endurance, of vitality, 
if you choose to call it bo. To a certain extent 
you m iy go upon the income, as it were, of this, 
and Nature will make up the loss. But just as 
soon as yon go beyond that limit, yon are draw¬ 
ing upon your capital, and sooner or later you 
will find the waste. One more thing, Cyrus. It 
seems to me it is hardly fair to leave that little 
wife of yours alone quite so much. Yon might 
at least spend yonr evenings with her, after leav¬ 
ing her all day long.” 
“Carrie agrees with me in putting business 
before pleasure. It was as much her plan as mine 
thatl should undertake this writing.” 
“Ob, very well, if yon are both suited; bnt my 
wile happens to fancy my society, and it is not 
for me to dispute her taste, so I aoi quite disposed 
to gratify her. After all, Cyrus, I believe I have 
more of original sin, as Dr. W. used to call lazi¬ 
ness, in my constitution, than you have.” 
The summer wore on. Cyrus Bond continued 
his extra labor, growing continually pale aud 
neivous, and as a consequence irritable and 
gloomy. Oliver’s garden gave ample proof that 
the hours of toil he hud bestowed upon it were 
not in vain, and the bright little border of flow¬ 
ers, where Nettie's happy face was oftenest seen, 
won glances of admiration from many a passing 
eye. The out door exercise had done both hus¬ 
band and wife substantial good,—for, aside from 
the healthy development of muscle, and the vigor¬ 
ous flow of blood, there is something in thus 
standing face to face with our mother Nature, 
and being brought into real and active partner¬ 
ship with her, that enlarges heart and soul—that 
makes more quick and tender the human sympa¬ 
thies within us, and lifts the soul upward in its 
yearnings and aspirations. 
The pleasant evening hours were spent in social 
converse and Intellectual improvement Oliver 
often said that nothing but books ever tempted 
him to extravagance, and it was really a self-de¬ 
nial to pass by the book stores, with their tempt¬ 
ing display. Yet there was seldom a week when 
some pleasant volume was not upon the tabic, to 
furnish entertainment for himself and Nettie. 
Many a time did Carrie Bond look from her 
lonely room with a sigh of regret, as the merry 
sounds of music floated out from the cottage 
windows, or the lamp gleaming through the half- 
closed blinds, ftsauied her that Nrttik’b little 
fingers were busy with their sewing, while her 
husband was reading aloud to her- There had 
been a few, a very few such evenings for Carhik, 
and she could not qnlle give them up; but she 
thought of her husband, bending wearily over 
bis writing, and reproached berHelf for her self¬ 
ishness in feeling for a moment unwilling to bear 
so small a part of the burden, when he was doing 
bo much for their mutual good. 
Once more Oliver tried to reason with his 
friend, nnd iuduce him to give up a task that was 
evidently beyond his strength, but he would not 
listen to him. "It is my duty,” said he, “no less 
than my wish, to provide lor my family. You 
said yourself that the future was only a possibil¬ 
ity—suppose I should die suddenly and leave 
Cakkir unprovided for?” 
“You may just as well Btippose you won’t, as 
long as yon don’t know anythlngahontit; thongh 
I must say it is a very probable supposition if 
you go on in this way much longer.” 
Greatly to the relief of all parties, Edward 
Catron returned in September, and Cyrus was 
at last released from his post in the office. A 
few days of rest removed in ft great niea#ure the 
sense of weariness and exhaustion, and he re¬ 
ceived with unmingled satisfaction the handsome 
sum of money which Mr. Capron paid him for 
his services. “Three hundred dollars In three 
months, is considerable to earn in one’s leisure 
hours, and makes np for some little temporary 
inconvenience.” He said this to Oliver one 
morning, as he stood watching his gardening 
operations. 
“Worth having, to be sure,” was tho answer, 
“if you have not earned it too dearly. By the 
way, I am going to make a strawberry bed over 
yonder by the fence, and I want you Bhonld show 
me about settiug the plants. I remember what 
splendid berries your father always raised.” 
“You are foolish to do that It will cost yon 
five dollars to have the ground prepared properly 
and get yonr plants. Then they won't do much 
the first year, and it is not at all likely we shall 
stay here long, so all your money and labor will 
go for the benefit of some one else.” 
“Well,” said Oliver, "I Bhall be Bure that my 
successors will remember me gratefully, in straw¬ 
berry time, at least 1 am sure 1 should have felt 
infinitely obliged if somebody had been good 
enough to start a little fruit here for my benefit; 
so I think I shall try it and I don't at all despair 
of eating the fruit of my labora To be sure, the 
store is an experiment ; but I believe this is the 
very best location on the whole line of the rail¬ 
road, and Colonel Morton is too good a financier 
to remove it until it has been fairly tested,” 
“ Perhaps you are right, but I have made np my 
mind not to lay out a cent upon my premises 
while the matter is in uncertainty. What have 
yon been doing by that trellis?” 
“Betting a couple of grape vines that I bought 
of Capron. They are choice vines, both of them; 
he gave me some grapes of both varieties, ^nd I 
am sure they must be the very kinds that grew 
in Canaan.” 
Cyrus smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm, and 
went into his own house, feeling in his heart a 
little pity for Oliver’s weak-minded lack of pru¬ 
dence. The ground was bountifully enriched, 
and the strawberry bed carefully prepared and 
made ready for the plants. Just at this time old 
Captain Jacobs chanced to be walking past, and 
stopped to see what his young tenant was doing. 
“Starting fruit, eh?” said the old gentleman; 
“so 1 take it jou don’t expect to be warned out 
right away.” 
“Not next year, I hope, sir,” was the reply. 
“I should like to taste my strawberries first.” 
“ Going to setBtrawberries! Well, that’s right. 
I spent the that fifteen years of my married life 
in that little wood-colored house yonder, without 
planting a tree or a vine, or making auy improve¬ 
ments whatever, just because I did not expect to 
stay from one year to another. Great mistake of 
mine, sir, and I came to see it after a while, when 
mutters took such a turn that the property came 
into my own hands, and I reflected that I had 
cheated mjself by my selfishness, instead of 
being the owner of a beautiful place, well stocked 
with fruit and shade trees, as I might have been, 
1 had only a bare field, and a bouse fast going to 
decay. Then, I had cheated my family of a great 
many comforts and luxuries that we might have 
had just as well as not. We have to work for 
each other in this world, young man; and if any¬ 
body tries to escape the regulation, ho is Bure to 
get the worst of it in some way. ‘Other men 
have labored, and ye are entered into their labors’ 
—that’s the way it is the world over.” 
After a few momenta of friendly chat, the Cap¬ 
tain passed on, but not until he had told Oliver 
that, if he would come up to his house, he might 
have as many strawberry plants as he wished from 
his garden. “ There are thousands of them,” said 
he, “ that will be thrown away to thin out the 
beds; and if your neighbor, Mr. Bond, wiBheB for 
any, be is welcome to them.” 
Cyrus was half disposed to accept the offer, as 
he remembered the delicious fruit that used to 
grow so bountifully in hiB father’s garden. “If 
it wasn't for that paddy, and his confounded po¬ 
tatoes,” said he. “I wish the rascal had to eat 
them all raw.” 
“Tops and all?” queried Oliver, laughing in 
spite of himself at this lirBt concession on the 
part of his friend that he had made a bad bargain 
“I’ll tell yon what you can do. Boy fifteen 0 r 
twenty hills of him, and dig them up.” 
“ Give him the nse of my garden, and then buy 
his potatoes? I shall do no such thing.” 
“Well, then, tell him you want to nse a little 
strip, and get him to dig np a lew hills. They 
are big enough to eat, aud Larry is a good-na¬ 
tured fellow, alter all.” 
“I’d rather never see a strawberry than ask & 
favor of Larky,” said Cyrus, decidedly, and so 
the matter was dropped. 
When Oliver went for bis plants, Captain Ja- 
cobs invited him into liis library, and spent some 
time in conversation wilb him. ne gave him 
quite a history or bis own struggles in life, and 
pointed out to bira some of the causes of success 
and failure. "1 have got to be an o'd m8D,” said 
he, “but I believe 1 am far happier than 1 was in 
my youth, not because I have risen above pover¬ 
ty, but because I have learned pome of the secrets 
of happiness. I always feel a sympathy ffi r 
yonng men, and nn interest in them, and I hope 
yon will rely upon iny friendship lnr enough to 
believe that, i shall always be ready to as#lat y< )Q 
in any way In my power. If there iB anything [ 
can do for yon, don’t hesitate to s#y so. I shall 
be very likely to want favors of you, and I shall 
not be slow to ask them.” 
Oliver thanked him warmly for bis kindness, 
yet could not help smiliag at the idea of bestow¬ 
ing favors upon one who, apparently, had every¬ 
thing that heart could wi.'b. Ah he rose to leave 
the library, be glanced almost enviously at the 
well-filled shelves, and then said, with a comical 
twinkle of his eye, "Perhaps, sir, you would like 
to honor something from my library. 1 have 
nearly a dozen volumes, aud 1 got through with 
them all some time ago, ao you will be very wel¬ 
come.” 
Captain Jacobs laughed, — a hearty, mellow 
laugh,—“like any poor fellow with two-and-six- 
pence a day,” »# Oliver had said before. 
“I thank you, Mr. Dean.” said he; “I will call 
soon and examine them, and in the meantime, if 
you can find anything here that is not contained 
'in von is, I shall be very happytn lend it to you.” 
When Oliver went home with his basket of 
plants, he carried a volume with a most inviting 
title under his arm, and a great deal oi happiness 
in his heart. [To be concluded next week. 
‘ 
rjft is. 
!» % l ift 
For Moore's Itnntl New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 2ft letters. 
My 8, 23, 22, 12 is a river in Egypt 
My 6, 8,11, 9, 22. 16 Is a county in Alabama. 
My 2,19. 6, 2A 19 I# a city Iu France. 
My 16, 25, 9,12 i« # county iu New York. 
My 1, 14, 22, 7,19 is a range of mountain# in Africa. 
Mv 17,18, 24, 6,14 19 ii a river in England. 
My 11,4, 10, 13, 4. 20 i« a eity in Muasachutietts. 
My 0, 21,19,10, 18, 21, 22, 22 in a town in Michigan. 
My wliola it. a proverb of Solomon. 
Cortlandville, N, Y., 1890. R. M. G. 
tsr Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TOWNS ENIGMATICALLY EXPRESSED. 
1. A kind of wood and a valley. 
2. An animal aud an instrument of music. 
3. A fountain and n tract of land. 
4. A color and a large room. 
6. A mineral and a kind of meat 
6. An exclamation and a plant. 
7. A Btrearn and a measure. 
8. A contest and an edged instrument. 
Glendale, Ohio, 1800. JERRY M. C. 
Answer in two week#. 
Fur Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
Three men, A, B, and C, bought a circular farm con¬ 
taining 786 169-490 acres, for which B apd C paid equal 
shares, and A as much as B and C together. It is agreed 
that B’s and C’s portion of the farm shall each be iu the 
form of a circle. After it is divided, a road, one chiin 
wide, iB run through the center of the original farm, 
perpendicular to a line which joins the centers of B'i 
and C's portions. How many acres of each one’s portico 
are included in this road, calling the land a uniform value 
per acre? M. E. H. 
Jefferson Co., N. Y., 1860. 
fTfst" Answer in two weeks. 
CHARADE. 
My first unites the happy pair; 
The next flies swiftly through the air, 
Or murmurs in the grove; 
With beauteous form and silver hue, 
My whole’s confess’d an emblem true 
Of innocence and love, 
jgr* Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, Ac., IN NO. 650. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma:—A good name ia 
rather to be chosen than great riches. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:— Prosperity gains 
friends, adversity trie# them. 
Answer to Charade:—Second sight. 
Answer to Geometrical Problem:—Respectively 1,~. ,J 
feet and 94.08 feet. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
Agricultural, Literary aud Family Weekly* 
IB PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY 
D. ». T. MOURE, ICOCItESTKR, N. Y. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite tic Court Bouse, Buffalo St. 
TERMS IN ADVANOK : 
Two Dollars a Trap—$1 for six months To Clubs an ^ 
Agents as follows:—Three Copies one year, for ffi; Six, an 
one free to club agent, for *10; Ten, and one free, for < 
Fifteen, and one free, for *21; Twenty, and one free, for *•», 
and any greater number st same rate —only $1.26 i'“ r 00 
— with an extra free copy for every Ten subscribere over 
Twenty. Club papers aent to different Post-offices, if de¬ 
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the British Provinces, our Caiiadlan agent# sue 
must add KDs ets. per copy to the club rates of the »t ea 
T he lowest price of copies sent to Europe, Ac., is IV 
Jnftltiriincr rwiMtuirfi. 
