MOORE’S RUEAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
FEB. 7. 
For Moore’* Rural New-Yorker. 
LONG AGO. 
BT UBS. A. K. BURTON. 
Time is a river deep and wide, 
With pleasant islands scattered o’er. 
And, as we onward gently glide, 
We touch, for lreight, each sylvan shore. 
Through Wisdom's deepest store-vaults geek 
Rich golden thoughts, and gems of mind ; 
Weave lovc-ly robes of graces meek, 
And fragrant wreaths of virtue bind. 
With fadeless stores our barques fill deep, 
Then with our treasures haste away, 
To where you misty curtains keep 
Concealed from view our harbored bay. 
But, as we count our treasures o’er, 
And each in turn with vivid power, 
Recalls some pleasant island shore, 
Some thought-gem'd mine or love-kept bower, 
One tsicect enchanted tele appears, 
Ferhaps, because in youth 'twas viewed, 
Ere moaning gales brought bitter tears, 
Or souls with care-stains were imbued. 
Yet, that sweet Lie still brightly gleams, 
With all that's lovely imaged there, 
With od’rous trees, and sunny bowers, 
With fountains cool and balmy air, 
Where tuneful songsters wing their way. 
And star-bright llowers with beauty glow; 
Life's first, bright-, runny summer's day, 
Sweet love-blest isle if long ago. 
Bastings, Mich., Jan. 22,1857. 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1807, by 
D. D T. Mooke, in the Clerk’s Office of the District 
Court for the Northern District «>! New York. 
For Mooro'u Kmal New-Yorker. 
NEIGHBOR GRAY. 
BY T. 8. ARTHUR. 
“Have you mot our new neighbor Gray, friend 
Tompkins?” inquired one farmer of another.— 
They were at Peter Craig’s blacksmith shop. 
“No, and what’s more, 1 don’t want to meet 
him,” was abruptly answered. 
“ Don't want to meet him!” 
“No! I’ve said just what I mean,” replied Tomp¬ 
kins, ill-naturedly. “I don’t, wan't to meet him, 
nor have anything to do with him.” 
“Y T ou’U change your mind, I think,” said the 
blacksmith. 
“Will I?” A sneer curled the lip of farmer 
Tompkins. 
“ Yes, and that before Mr. Gray is two months 
in Splintervilie,” replied Peter Craig. “But, 
pray, tell us what you have against our new 
neighbor?” 
“Oh, nothing very particular, only I don’t like 
him.” 
“There is one thing t.o be said in his favor,” re¬ 
marked the blacksmith—“he keeps good stock.” 
“Humph! No better than is to be found in the 
neighborhood,” said Tompkins. “No better, in 
fact, than I have.” 
“I’m not so sure of that,” returned Peter 
Craig. “I put shoes on hia carriage horses yes¬ 
terday, and, if I’m any judge, their match is not 
within ten miles of theae parts. No, no, friend 
Tompkins —you havn’tthe horseflesh on your sixty 
acres that will compare with neighbor Gray’s.” 
“Bah! neighbor Gray’s! Nobody’s got any¬ 
thing, from a patent pitchfork, up to a threshing 
machine, (bat will compare with ueighborCKAY’s! 
It makes me downright angry to hear people talk 
after this fashion. Who's Mr. Guay, I’d like to 
know?” 
“ He’s a gentleman,” said the blacksmith, a little 
warmly. 
“Gentleman!” Tompkins spoke with a bitter 
sneer, “Thate gentlemen!” 
“The gentleman is the only true man,” remark¬ 
ed Peter Craig. 
“Of coarse,—kid gloves, calf skin, broadcloth 
and beaver, are everything; and the individual 
nothing.” 
“Not so fast, friend Tompkins; not so fast. It 
is the heart that makes the gentleman.” 
“If that is the case, I don’t think there’s much 
chance for your new neighbor. But, gentleman, or 
no gentleman, I detest this Gray from the bottom 
of my heort, and wish he were a thousand miles 
away from SplinterviLle!” 
As Tompkins closed this sentence, in a pretty 
loud tone ot voice, his ear caught the sound of a 
footstep, and turning quickly, he saw Mr. Gray 
approaching through the blacksmith’s shop, Lav¬ 
ing entered by the opposite door from the one near 
which the littlti group of men were standing. He 
was near enough to have heard the closing sentence, 
and, from the expression of his countenance, it 
was pretty evident that its meaning was un¬ 
derstood. 
Tbe moment Tompkins saw him, his face crim¬ 
soned, and, turning off abruptly, he strode away.— 
As he did so, be thought he heard the voice of 
Mr. Gray calling after him. But, he had not the 
manliness to stop and meet face to face the indi¬ 
vidual whose name he had used so freely. 
An ill-natured, jealous-minded, unhappy kind of 
a man was this Tompkins. You will find Ids coun¬ 
terpart in almost every neighborhood. Mr. Gray, 
towards whom he cherished such unkind feelings, 
had bought,some months before, the farm that im¬ 
mediately adjoined his; and, a few weeks previ. 
ously, taken formal possession. Now, Tompkins 
wanted this farm, and had been, for some time, 
endeavoring to strike a bargain with its previous 
owner, when Mr. Gray, seeing the property advei- 
tised foi sale, complied with the terms, and became 
the purchaser. Tompkins wished to exchange his 
farm for the other, and give notes for the dif¬ 
ference in price; and, although the owner had two 
orj.hree times declined bis offer, he was still in 
hope of making the arrangement, when Mr. Gray 
dashed all his hopes to the ground. 
From that moment, he hated Mr. Gray in liis 
heart, and wished him ail maimer of evil. But for 
all this, Tompkins did’nt feel very comfortable in 
mind about the harsh sentence which he was 
very certain Mr. Gray had heard. Talk as 
freely as ho would, behind his neighbor’s back, he 
was not (juite prepared to denounce him to his 
face; and for this reason, if for none other—he 
could show no cause for his animosity'. The farm 
was in market, ami his new neighbor had as good 
a right to purchase ns any one else. It was not at 
all probable, that Mr. Guay knew anything about 
his previous negotiations; and even if he had,that 
was no reason why he should not purchase if an 
offer of the farm were made to him. 
Compelled, now, to look at the affair, as if looking 
upon it with other people’s eyes, Tompkins was 
not able to justify himself in the unkind attitude 
he had taken. Imagination brought him face to 
face witii the incensed Mr. Gray, who said to him, 
in a stern demanding voice: 
“ What is the meaning of this language? What, 
have I done, that you detest me, and wish me a 
thousand miles nw-ay from SplinterviHe?” 
In vain did farmer Tompkins seek to frame some 
reply in his thoughts that would have the appear¬ 
ance of justification. It would not answer to refuse 
giving any reason for his conduct; for that would 
place him in the light of a mere tradneer of his 
neighbor without cause. Nor would it do to state 
the true reason: for that w f as one which, however 
valid in Ins own eyes, could hardly appear so in 
the eyes oT anybody else. 
Farmer Tompkins was in something of a quan¬ 
dary. lie had brought himself into rather a hu¬ 
miliating relation to this new neighbor; and the 
more lie thought about, it, the less clearly did he 
see himself honorably out of his trouble. 
But, Tompkins was not tbe man to “humble 
himself,” to use his own words, to any one, by ac¬ 
knowledging that he had done wrong, no matter 
how sharp were bis own convictions on the sub¬ 
ject And, of all men in the world, Mr. Gray was 
the last to whom he would make humiliating ac¬ 
knowledgements, lie hated and despised him the 
more now that he felt himself something in his 
power. And ho determined to brave it out If 
neighbor Gray called upon him for explanations, 
he would insult him to his face! 
On the next morning, Tompkins had occasion to 
visit the blacksmith’s shop again. 
“What did that Gray have to say about men, 
yesterday?” he asked of Peter Craig, in his most 
abrupt, ill-natured manner. 
“He did'nt mention your name,” replied the 
blacksmith. 
The farmer looked surprised. 
“ He must have heard me.” 
“I rather think he did,” said the blacksmith. 
“And did’nt suy anything at all?” 
“ Not about you.” 
Farmer Tompkins was puzzled and disappointed. 
Much as he hated, and affected to despise Mr. 
Gray, he felt nervous about the effect produced 
upon him by the harsh words he had spoken; and 
he had hoped to get some clue thereto from the 
blacksmith. 
A few hours later in the day, as he was riding 
away from loi;ne, Re saw his new neighbor ap- 
pioaching along tbe road not far distant. Obey¬ 
ing the first impulse of his mind, he turned his 
horse’s head, and struck off into a narrow lane, 
that took him nearly a mile out of his way. In 
consequence, he was too late for au appointment 
at which some important business was to be dono, 
and lost an expected advantage. 
“I wish this Gray had been in the Dead Sea 
before he thought of coming to Splinterville,”— 
was his angry ejaculation, when, on arriving at 
the appointed place, he found the business closed, 
and all the benefit he had hoped to gain forever 
beyond his reach. 
Just as farmer Tompkins, on returning from this 
fruitless iide came in sight of home, he saw Mr. 
Gray leaving the house. He rubbed his eyes, and 
looked again. Yes; it was even so. Mr. Gray 
was passing through the gate; and now was 
moving down the roud in the direction of hia own 
home. TuMi'KiNssLickened thespeedof hiahorse 
so that he might not come too fully in view until 
Mr. Gray reached a bend in the road, around 
which he passed o. t of sight. 
“What did that, fellow want?” he asked, sharply, 
of his wife, on reaching borne. 
“Of whom are you speaking?" she enquired. 
“Why, Gray; confound him!” 
“He merely asked for yon," replied the wife. 
“Did he say that he would call again?” 
“No.” 
“Humph!” Farmer Tomtkins was worried. It 
was plain that Mr. Gray wns not a man to be as¬ 
sailed and traduced without calling bis traducer 
to an account. So far as vituperation was con¬ 
cerned, fanner Tompkins found that an easy mat¬ 
ter—it came as “natural as eating.” But the 
thought of being called to an account—of being 
asked for explanations—of being required to give 
reasons for the strong language he had seen proper 
to use was very fur from being agreeable. 
All that afternoon, farmer Tompkins was in 
hourly dread of another call from Lis new neigh¬ 
bor Guay. Every sound of approaching feet, or 
sudden call, or noise of the shutting gate, caused 
him to start, or look up from his work. He was 
provoked with him,self for all this; hut, lor his life, 
could not help it. A little while before sundown 
he came over from tne barn to get something from 
tho house. As he came in at the back door, a 
young woman, with a blue sun bonnet went out at 
the front door. 
“ Who’s that?” he asked of his wife. 
"Neighbor Guay’s girl,” was replied. 
The farmer’s heart gave a quicker hound. 
“ What did she want?” 
He knit liis brows as he awaited the answer. 
“Mrs. Gray sen! over a tumbler of call ’s foot 
jelly for Maggy.” 
Now, Maggy was a dear little two years’old pet, 
with soft blue eyes, and light brown hair that fell 
in wavy circles about, ber neck, and a heart as full 
of love as that of her father was of ill-will to 
almost every one litre herself. To him she was 
sunlight and joy. The love that gushed forth for 
her, seemed all the stronger because it had free 
course in no other direction. But Maggy was 
sick. A fall fever had seized upon her delicate 
frame, and wasted her almost to a shadow, and 
now, although the destroyer had departed from 
their dwelling, tho child was as weak as in the 
days of earliest infancy. 
“Mrs. Gray sent over a tumbler of calf’s foot 
jelly for Maggy.” 
What an unexpected answer! Farmer Tompkins 
was altogether unprepared for it. 
“How did she know that Maggy was sick?” 
Tlis voice was less imperative. 
“Air. Gray asked about her when lie was here 
this morning.” 
“Who? What?” 
Farmer Tompkins was again taken by surprise. 
“ Mr. Gray asked kindly about her; and when I 
told him that she was better, looked very much 
pleased.” * 
The farmer turned his lace partly away, so that 
his wife should not see its expression. 
“ How does Maggy seem this afternoon?” he 
asked, a few momenta ufterw i ds. 
“Better,” said the wife. 
“I must look at iier fora moment; dear little 
pet!” And Tompkins went into the bedroom 
where she lay. An older sister stood by her side, 
holding the calf’s foot jelly, and feeding her with it. 
“ How is my little Maggy?” said the father, its 
he bent over aud kissed her. 
“I’m better,” she answered smiling—then added, 
iu a pleased way, 
“Don’t you think Mr. Gray was very good to 
send me this uice calf’s foot jelly?” 
“ Yes, dear.” 
How could he help answering yes? 
When, farmer Tompkins returned to the barn, 
he felt very strangely. There was a pressure on 
his feelings, for which he could not clearly ac¬ 
count; and no wonder—for the farmer was not 
much given to the observation of his own mental 
processes. That little act of kindness towards 
Maggy, so altogether unexpected, had thrown his 
state of mind into sudden confusion. He bad 
felt a dislike for Mrs. Gray, simply because lie 
bated her husband,—but how could he continue 
to cherish this feeling for one who had shown 
kindness towards his little Maggy? It was next 
to impossible. And Mr. Gray had asked after 
Maggy! Aud further still—it was natural to con¬ 
clude that the kind act of his wife had some sort of 
dependence upon his direction of her thought to¬ 
wards the sick child. 
“1 wish 1 hadn’t, said anything against him at 
Peter Craig’s.” Now that thought marked the 
beginning of a better stale of mind in farmer 
Tompkens. “I don’t like him; and will never for¬ 
give him as long as I live. But there is no occa¬ 
sion to make an enemy even of a dog. And, Of 
course, he’s my sworn enemy from this day forth. 
1 wonder what brought him over here. No, I 
don’t wonder either! Well, let him do his worst; 
he’ll find no backing down iu Ephraim Tompkins.” 
On the next morning, Tompkins went over to 
the blacksmith’s shop to sec if Peter Craig had 
finished mending a plow which he had left there 
some days before. He had said nothing about 
being in n hurry; and did not really want the plow 
for a week. But he thought he would step over 
and see how the work was progressing. As he 
entered the shop, ho saw the plow lying near the 
forge. But the blacksmith was hammering away 
upon a wagon tire. Now, although Tompkins 
didn’t want the plow for some days, he felt dis¬ 
pleased at seeing bis work put aside for the work 
of somebody else, and said, a little tartly— 
“1 expected to see that plow finished by this 
time.” 
“And so it would have been, friend Tompkins, 
but our new neighbor Gray had the misfortune to 
break a wagon-tire yesterday afternoon, just in 
the midst of some hauling that must be finished 
by to-morrow. So I let your plow lie, as T knew 
you wore not in a hurry, and was sure you would 
be willing to oblige Air. Gray. I will have it all 
ready for you in the morning.” 
“To-morrow morning won't do!” said Tomp¬ 
kins, angrily. “ I want my plow to-day!” 
“I'm sorry,” said the blacksmith, in a troubled 
manner. “J didn’t think it would make any dif¬ 
ference, or I wouldn’t have put aside your work 
for Mr. Gray or anybody else.” 
“0 yes you would!” retorted Tompkins, in a 
spiteful tone. “Mr. Gray is everything iu Splin¬ 
terville now—and I’m nobody!” 
“Don't say that friend Tompkins,” Biiid the 
blacksmith,—“ I would do your work ns quickly 
as I would Mr. Guay’s. If the plow had belonged 
to him, and you had come with the broken wag¬ 
on-tire, I would have laid aside the plow to mend 
the tire,” 
But farmer Tompkins was not disposed to listen 
to reason. This act of lotting his work lie over 
for a day iu order to clo that of his neighbor, 
against whom he hud so deep a grudge, made him 
almost blind with passion, and he was talking in a 
loud, angry voice, when neighbor Guay’s form 
darkened tbe door of the blacksmith shop. The 
new neighbor had called over to see how the 
mending of the wagon-tire progressed. Just as 
he entered, Tompkins used his name in connection 
with some pretty harsh language. Not seeming to 
notice this, Mr. Cray came forward, aud offering 
his hand to Mr. Tompkins, said very kindly— 
“How is your little daughter this morning? 1 
hope she is very much better?” 
"She is better, I thank you,” replied Tompkins, 
almost stammering out the words, at the same 
time that he allowed Mr. Gray to take his hand 
and shake it, pretty much as he wonld shake a 
stick. 
“I hope,” continued Mr. Gray, “that, our friend 
the blacksmith hasn’t done anything wrong in 
laying aside your work to do mine. If so, I pray 
you to let all the blame full upon my shoulders.— 
We were so unfortunate as to break our wagon- 
tire, and all our work was at a stand-still until it 
was mended. It was one of those emergencies, in 
which all neighbors are ready to accommodate 
each other, even at the cost of a little inconve¬ 
nience.” 
Now farmer Tompkins hardly expected a greet¬ 
ing like this, and was considerably thrown aback, 
as the sailors say. Thu kind inquiry alter Maggy 
—the remembrance of Mrs. Gray’s thoughtful at¬ 
tention to the sick child—and, more particularly, 
the open, frank, friendly manner in which Mr. 
Gray spoke, all hud the cflect to disarm him. He 
wanted to repel the new neighbor — to speak out 
“his mind" to him — to let him see something of 
the antagonism that wns in his heart. But the 
cordial good nature, and kind, gentlemanly hear¬ 
ing of Mr. Gray, was too much for him, and thawed 
the ice of his feelings faster than a determined ill- 
nature could freeze the surface. 
“I called over yesterday afternoon," continued 
Mr. Gray, “to mention what I had done; and ask 
if it would put you to any Inconvenience. And I 
intended to speak with you about a matter which 
I will mention now. It is this: 
And he drew farmer Tompkins aside, in order 
that he might talk with him alone: 
“ I find,” he continued, “ in having the searches 
made lor the purpose of lixiDg u true title to the 
farm just bought, and which adjoins yours, that 
there has been a clear mistake in running the 
boundary between your farm and mine—a mistake 
that iucliidesnl. least five aeresof that One meadow 
laud to the west ofyour barn.” 
“I don’t believe a word of it!" exclaimed farmer 
Tompkins, firing up, and looking the picture of 
angry indignation. “My title deeds call for sixty 
acres, and sixty acres I menu to hold if I law for 
it until doomsday!” 
“Gently, gently, neighbor Tompkins,” replied 
Mr. Guay. “ There need be no trouble about the 
matter. Wo don’t need any law to settle a busi¬ 
ness like this. A compromise, where both parties 
desire to do right, is the easiest thing in the world. 
You will find me very reasonable.” 
“ It's more than yon will find me then, Mr. Gray, 
if you attempt to get five acres of my meadow 
land. I can tell you that, in the beginning.” 
“I don’t want a foot of your land,” said Mr. 
Gray. 
“ What then do you want?” demanded the exas¬ 
perated farmer. 
“Simply to do right,” was the calm reply. “I 
find that 1 am considerably over on your line, and 
that the amount of land I enclose which really be¬ 
longs to you, is about live acres." 
Farmer Tompkins started, looked confused, and 
flushed to a deeper crimson. 
“I requested," continued Mr. Gray, “my con¬ 
veyancer to go carefully over the matter again 
and make his report, which was done yesterday, 
lie says that there is no doubt about the matter. 
I am over the lino considerably. Now, what T 
wish to say is this: J will buy these five acres at a 
hundred dollars an acre, if you aro iuclined to 
sell; if not, 1 will have my fence removed to the 
true line, which a surveyor can determine.” 
We need hardly say, that Tompkins was com¬ 
pletely disarmed. If a thunderbolt had fallen at 
his feet, he could not have been more surprised. 
A moment or two he stood in bewilderment of 
mind; then reaching out bis band to Mr. Gray, he 
said: 
“I tun rebuked. Have it your own way. Let 
the fence stand where it is, and keep the land if 
you choose,—I shall still be as well oft* as 1 thought 
myself an hour ago.” 
“Right is right, friend Tompkins,” said Mr. 
Gray. “So if you will walk over to my house, 
we will sottlo this business at once. I prefer 
keeping the luud and paying for it the price men¬ 
tioned.” 
“It is yours ut any price,” answered Mr. Tomp¬ 
kins. After u few moments of silence, he addod: 
“ i was your enemy, Mr. Gray —your enemy, I 
now see, without a cause. You have disarmed me 
in the first encounter. Let us now be friends.” 
And he reached forth his hand, which was 
warmly grasped by the new neighbor. 
After that, farmer Tompkins was a different 
man. Mr. Gray proved to him a true friend, for 
both by example and precept he taught him a 
better and happier way in the world, and lie walked 
therein with a more cheerful spirit than of old. 
ii’s ©turner. 
CHILDREN, BE PROMPT. 
Never say, when told to do anything, “In a 
minute,” or “by and by.” This leads to a bad 
habit, which, if not overcome, will prevent all con¬ 
fidence in you as you grow up. You will then put 
of!' duties you owe to your neighbor in the same 
way, and lose his confidence. Many men lose the 
respect of their neighbors, not so much because 
they mean to do wrong, as through carelessness.— 
“ By-aml-by,” and “ To-morrow,” have ruined thou¬ 
sands, robbed them of their character, and made 
them anything but blessings In a neighborhood.— 
Little confidence can be placed iu their word, not 
because they mean to tell falsehoods, but because 
of their caielessness. No obligation ia fulfilled 
when it should be. And it is sometimes so in their 
own affairs. They lose days and weeks because 
business is not attended to when it ought to be.— 
A tool is lost, because not promptly put back when 
done with. Fulfill promptly every promise made. 
Put off not an hour. 
- — + « 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 14 letters. 
My ft, 11, 1*2, 4 is a cape on the southern coast of 
South America. 
My G, 2, 3, 12 is a river in Prussia. 
My 2, 3, 12, 4, 3 is a city in the province of Tripoli. 
My 8, G, 12, 12, 1, 5 is a strait north of Australia. 
My 9, 7, 2, 6, 6, 4, 5 is a celebrated bay in North 
America. 
My .*», 4,11,10 is a range of mountains in the south 
of Africa. 
My 4, 11,12,13,14 is a cape in the north of Europe. 
My whole is a celebrated fictitious writer of the 
present day. 
Marengo, N. Y., Jan., 1857. J. G. W. 
5^67“ Answer next week. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ARITHMETICAL PROBLEM. 
— 
A and B together own a melon. A owns three- 
eighths and B five-eighths. C comes along and 
gives a shilling to share equally; to what part of 
the shilling is A and B each entitled. 
Charles Spring, Decatur, Mieli. J- H. W. 
Answer next week. 
--- 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 3G8:— 
Industry and Ear tumiy. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem in No. 360:— 
One lainb 10-G=G-10 of a sheep, or outs os much as 
fi-10 of a sheep requires, and G lambs would equal 
G-10 x C-1 = 3G-10 or 3 3-5 sbeep-t-tO 14 sheeps 17 
3-5. And if 6 eat it in 40 days, the same would 
last 120 ono day, and would therefore last 17 3-5-t- 
120=13.7 days. 
Answer to Arithmetical Puzzle in No. 3G9: 
2 9 4 
7 6 3 
G 1 8 
Answer to Poetical Puzzle in No. 369:—TO¬ 
BACCO. 
if anil lurnot. 
Without any Taii„—A very " particular friend” 
is Amos Smith, and a very decided enemy to all 
worldly titles, as any body in Philadelphia knows; 
but ob a business correspondent, from the South 
didn’t know. And “ thereby bangs a talc.” 
This correspondent had direoted his letter to 
“ Amos Smith, /'.V/.” Friend Amos replied punc¬ 
tually, and after dispatching business matters 
added the following postscript: 
"I desire to inform thee that, beingamember of 
the Society of Friends, I am not free to use world¬ 
ly titles in addressing my friends, and wish them 
to refrain from using them to me. Thou wilt, 
therefore, please to omit the word Esquire at the 
eud of my mime, and direct, thy letters to Amos 
Smith, without any tail.” 
By the return mail came a reply, directed, in 
precise accordance with the request of the partic¬ 
ular Friend, to 
“ Amos Smith, without any Tail, Philadelphia.” 
♦»» 
Graphic. —After all, I might have given a very 
lucid idea of a Russian peasant’s house, by repeat¬ 
ing a succinct description given me by a certain 
young Russian, soon after my arrival in St. Peters¬ 
burg. Moujik’s house,” he said, “is dark, and 
made of wood; the Door is gray; the walls are 
gray, and the roof is gray; you can cut the smell 
of oily fish and cabbage-soup with a hatchet, and 
at night you can hear the bugs bark.”— F, Sala. 
Definition of “Wild Oats.”—A cereal crop 
that is generally sown between eighteen and 
twenty-five; the harvest usually sets in about ten 
years alter, and is commonly found to consist of a 
broken constitution, two weak legs, a bad cough, 
and a trunk — tilled with small vials and medical 
prescriptions. 
- 4 < » - 
A fascinating sight is to see a young lady 
walking as though a Ilea was biting her on each 
hip. She is almost a match for tho dandy who 
steps like au Open-winged turkey traveling over a 
bed of hot ashes. 
-- 
A lady made a sensation lately in Broadway, by 
starting a new fashion in bonnets, having it.carried 
behind her on a velvet, cushion, instead of on the 
back of her head. The effect was extremely light 
and airy. 
The only class of men in the world who arc not 
in the habit of disparaging their neighbors are 
the assessors of taxes; for it is well known that 
they never “underrate” any body in the slightest 
degree. 
A clergyman, noted for his wit, on being asked 
what kind of person tho wife of Mr. Squirm was, 
replied, “1 will give you her grammatical character. 
She is a noun-substantive—seen, felt and heard.” 
-» ■ 
Why is a hungry boy looking at the pudding in 
a cook-shop window, like a wild horse? Because 
lie would be all the better it lie had a bit in his 
mouth. 
•-*-•-*- 
Force of Reason.—S ome person was once ask¬ 
ed why B stood before C? Because, was the 
answer, a man must B before he can C. 
-»>» 
An eminent painter w88 asked what he mixed 
his colors with to produce so extraordinary an ef¬ 
fect. “I mix them with brains, sir,” was his answer 
-- 
An editor, describing a lecture to the fair sex, 
exclaims, with enthusiasm, “Three thousand ladies 
hanging on the lips of one man!” 
-- 
If some quacks seem to stand up high, it is sim¬ 
ply on account of the numerous flats that surround 
them. 
A wom \ n may laugh too much. It is only a comb 
that can always afford to show its teeth. 
-—-- 
11 AFI’INESS Is like a pig with a greased tail, which 
every one runs alter, but nobody cau hold. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE I.BAPINO WRKKLY 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY JOURNAL, 
18 rOBLiailKD KVKItY SATUUUAV 
BY ». ». T. MOOltE, HOC IIKST El J, N. Y. 
Office, Daily Union Building, 0pp. the Court House 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Subscription —$2 a year—it for nix mouths. To Clubs fvr.d 
Agents as followsThree Copies one Jour, for $3; Six Copies 
(and one lo Agent or getter up of ululij for fill; Ten Copies 
(and ono to Agent,) lor $16, and any additional number at the 
same rate, ($t,6U per copy.) As we are obliged to pre-pay the 
American postage on papers sent to tho British Frovfriees, our 
Canadian agents and friends must add 12j$ cent* per copy to 
the club rates of tho Rural. 
AdvkktimxG — Brief and appropriate advertisement* will bo 
inserted at 28 cents a line, each Insertion, payable in advnnco.— 
Our rule is lo give no advertisement, unless very brief, more than 
four consecutive insertions Patent Medicines, Ac., will not be 
advertised in this paper at any price. 
• - »»- 
SPECIAL NOTICES. 
Ci.unniNO with True Magaxinkb, Ac.—We will send the Rural 
Nxw-YoKKKR Tor ISS7. and a yearly copy ol either Uarjrr’s, 
Owley's, Graham's or any other $3 roaguilno, for $i Tlia Rural 
and either .1 rthtr’i, Slayi-mr, the MiUionai JAryuiiti t, or any other 
$2 magazine, for $3. Tho Rural and either The /'touyh. the Loom 
ana the Amiga monthly inagaeine devoted to the Industrial Arte, 
Agriculture, Commerce and Mimulautures.) or The Jlirlhuttu- 
rut, for $3, 
ITT-Tuie Rural t» published strictly upon tho cash systkm 
_copies am never malted to individual subscribers until paid 
for, (or ordered by a responsible agent,) and always discontinued 
when the subscription term expires Hence, a prompt renewal 
is neoessary to secure the regular continuance of the paper. 
Uy~ Iu remitting $16,Or more, If convenient please send draft 
on New York. Albany, Itnflkilo, or Rochester, (lorn coat of ex¬ 
change,! or check or certillcata ol deposit on any Hunk Iu either 
ol said cilbis,—payable to our older 
£-jy- ant person no disposed can act a* local agent lor the 
Rural, without ccttiileute, amt each and all who volunteer in 
tin, good cause will not only receive premiums, but their aid 
will bo gratefully appreciated. 
ty (’run papers aw sent to as many different addresses or 
post-offices as requested, aud wo write tho names of subscribers 
on pup its If desired—thus saving Agents and Fost-Mnslers from 
any labor or attention In tbe promises. 
Truss who are forming large clubs can send ou the 
names and money ol such pars us as do not wish to wait, and 
complete their lists afterword*. 
l-y In ordering the Rural, be sure and specify name of 
Lost-Office, County, and State, territory or/Voeim-t 
NoN-SuBsetiOiKR* who receive this number of tho Rural 
Nkw-Yorkkr are invited to give it a careful examination, and, 
il approved, lend their kind ollieesto introduce the paper to the 
notice and support ol their friends and acquaintances 
