A 2 
MOOEE’S &F&£lL 
tE* 1 * 
■YOB 
mi 
3 
THE LITTLE BOY THAT DIED. 
[Dr Chalmers is said to bo the author of Huh beautiful 
little poem, written on the decease of a young son whom he 
greatly loved.] 
I am all alone in my chamber now, 
And midnight hour U near, 
And tbe faggot's crack, and the dock’s dull tick, 
Are the only sounds I hear,— 
And over my soul, in my solltnde, 
Sweet feelings of sadness glide, 
For my hpart and my eye* are full when I think 
Of tbe little boy that died. 
I went one night to my father's house,— 
Went home to the dear one* all,— 
And softly I opened the garden gate, 
And softly the door of the hall. 
My mother came out to meet her son, 
She kissed me, and then she sighed, 
And her head fell on my neek, and she wept 
For the little boy that died. 
I shall miss him when the flower* come, 
In the garden where he played,— 
I shall miss him more by the firemde, 
When tbe flower* have all decayed. 
I shall see hi* tops, and hi* empty chair, 
And tbe horse bo need to ride; 
And they will speak, with a silent speech, 
Of the little boy that died. 
We shall go home to our Father's house,— 
To our Father's house in the skins,— 
Where the hope our souls shall have no blight, 
Our love no broken ties,— 
Wc shall room on the banks of the river of peace, 
And bathe in its blissful tide, 
And one of the joys of our Heaven shall be 
’ The little boy that died. 
should be awakened. lie turned off quickly, au.d 
without looking np directly into Mr. Overman’s face. 
His landlady remarked his defect of appetite, and 
changed manner, at supper time, and asked if he 
were not well. 
•‘A little headache,’ 1 he answered, evasively, and 
with falsehood. 
Hiram Foster was twenty-three years of age. He 
had been in the employment of Mr. Wesley Over¬ 
man, as clerk and salesman, for nearly two years, 
and had bis entire con lid cnee, which, until now, had 
never been abused. He was a young roan of some 
intelligence, and desirous to rise in the world above 
his present condition. Up to this time his salary had 
not exceeded four hundred dollars, and it took about 
all of this to meet his annual expenses. The prospect 
of rising in the world had not, therefore, looked 
very bright; and of late, Hiram had fretted thereat 
considerably. One cause of this lay in a recent 
awakening of his heart to new and tender experi¬ 
ences. Love had crossed his path. Helen Prescott, 
the minister’s charming daughter, had thrown over 
him a spell as sweet as it was irresistible. Her 
father, a man of education and cultivated tastes, 
money as in biking it with him. If his room should | Hiram Foster's mind was in no condition for an 
be searched, his trunk would not escape; so he feared ] interview with his betrothed on that evening. A great 
to hide it there. One place after another was thought ^ crisis in his life had coma —nay, been passed; and 
of, and decided against. He was in a maze of per- : the disturbed elements needed time for re-adjustment, 
plexity. At last, folding the notes in a piece of j So, he returned to his room, and spent the evening 
paper, he crept under his bed, and placed them ! alone. But there the haunting presence which lmd 
beneath the furthest bed-post. hovered so near, in shadowy companionship, as he 
“No one will ever thiDk of going there,” he mut- returned from his interview with Mr. Overman, sat. 
tered, in an undertone, as he crept forth from his down close beside him. He almost felt its breath 
bodily humiliation, fit emblem of that mental humilia- j upon his cheek; and its hand upon his hand as he 
'te th 
tion and disgrace into which all come who are forced clutched the bank bills so dishonestly obtained A Zi m la «’ « * 1 ^bow-rooted plant, 
by crime into stooping duplicity and concealment cold shudder crept along his nerves. But with the hernial ’ 29 ' 1 “ “ e,egant in<%enon8 
shrinking terror that accompanied this sense of an My S3. 6«- 67, <6, is, 44. 22, 32, 6, 21, 12, 7 is a handsome 
C 'Iii. evil, invisible presence, came no repentance_no tropical annual. 
Mr. Overman’s house was distant only a few streets thought of retracing the wrong step which had sepa- S4 ’ 31 > 18 > 6 "42. 39, 43, GO is a hardy, showy border 
from where his clerk resided. rated him from good—no rebuke of conscience. flower 
“What can he want with me?” was the anxious Onward, In deliberate purpose, as fertile suggestions 8 - ^ 38 ’ 29 ■ 24 ■ M >* a highly-esteemed bulbons- 
and oft-repeated question of Hiram Foster, as he of dishonest means came flooding in upon his mind, Mv Z 'rl 'VoT'm w «n a* «>• 
walked slowly, and with busy thoughts, toward his he looked, and schemed, and resolved. And there, ro.e.Z'z ia «?* ad^errim- * 
employer’s residence. It was the first time he had alone in his room — no, not alone, for all the while My 70, 29. 69, 67, 49. 71. 30, 29. oo u .showy border flower 
asked to see him in the evening. Something, there- » dark, evil, invisible companion was close beside My 25, 65. l. 32, 26. 37.157. 00 u common In most gardens, 
fore, of more than ordinary import was in the sum- him he sat until after midnight. My 60, 30. 68, fl. i, 49. 72 to nn oid-faAhioned flower, 
mens. More than one who looked into Hiram Foster’s Mr 7, 59, 37. 29, 35.13 is an ornamental flower for rock work. 
At Mr. Overman’s door he stood, with a heart face on the next day, noted a change, and felt as if a My 19. 42, 2k 14. 6. 67. 4 belongs to the genus Primula. 
CHAPTER II. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
FLORAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 72 letters. 
My 42, 37, 48. 52, 4. 14. 29, 60 is a beautiful perennial. 
My 1, 10, 17. 50, 49, 3, 9. 57 is a popular annual. 
My 62, 47. 36, 19, 61, 14 is a bulbous-rooted plant. 
My 19 42, 61, 27, 66, 11, 30, 29, 1 is an elegant indigenous 
biennial. 
My 53, 68. 67, 45, 15, 44. 22, 32, 6, 21, 12, 7 is a handsome 
tropical annual. 
walked slowly, and with busy thoughts, toward bis 
employer’s residence. It was the first time he had 
asked to see him in the evening. Something, there¬ 
fore, of more than ordinary import was in the sum¬ 
mons. 
At Mr. Overman’s door he stood, with a heart 
thought higher than a storekeeper’s clerk for his beating confusedly, for some moments, before ventur- hand had been laid upon them, pressing them away 
favorite child; but love obeys its own impulses— ing to ring the hell. When shown into the parlor, to a distance. Of these was Helen Prescott’s 
©In 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
SOWING THE WIND 
AND REAPING THE WHIRLWIND. 
O II A I* T* J-C Tt I. 
“Are you ready, Hiram?” said Mr. Overman, 
calling to his clerk, who remained seated at his desk, 
intent on a column of figures. 
“Not quite. 1 must balance my cash,” replied the 
young man. 
“How long will it bike?" asked Mr. Overman. 
looks to persons, not conditions. So, as Hiram ad¬ 
vanced, she responded in tender acquiescence*, and 
at the time our story opens, he had told bis love to 
willing ears. 
As no objections could be raised to the young man’s 
character, which stood without reproach, Mr. Pres¬ 
cott, the father of Helen, demurred on the score of 
Hiram’s position in the world, lie was a clerk, 
receiving but a small salary, not more than sufficient 
for his own maintenance,— how was be to support 
a wife and family? The answer, as in all such cases, 
was ready. The young couple were content to wait 
until Hiram could push his way to a more advanced 
position. 
But, “content to wait,” though on tbe yonng 
man’s lips, was not in his heart. No, he was not 
content to wait. Every day he grew more and more 
restless in thought; and more discouraged at the 
unpromising aspect or his affairs. Before it would 
bo safe to venture upon marriage, he must have an 
income of at leant seven Or eight hundred dollars, 
and be in the way of advancement toward a sub¬ 
stantial citizenship. Patient duty in the present, as 
the prerequisite of a happy and prosperous future, 
was not the creed by which he was trying to live; 
but, in looking too restlessly ahead, from dissatisfac¬ 
tion with the present, he was opening the door for 
mg to ring the bell. When shown into the parlor, 
he found Mr. Overman alone. The first glance at 
his kind face dispelled every fear. Not even the 
faintest shadow of a suspicion was there. 
“Sit down, Hiram,” said he, in a pleasant tone of 
voice. “I’ve sent for you in consequence of having 
hoard something this evening which has interested 
me.” 
The yonng man tried to be altogether at his ease, 
but it cost him an effort. He looked, but did not 
venture to speak, an inquiry. 
“What I have heard,” said Mr. Overman, “con¬ 
cerns you and Helen Prescott. Ah! I see the tell¬ 
tale color in your face, and am glad of it. Helen is 
a dear, good girl. I know her well, and it pleases 
me that you have chosen so wisely. Has the matter 
been spoken of to Mr. Prescott?” 
"Yes, sir.” 
“And be gives consent?” 
“Not a full, out-spoken consent, sir,” replied the 
young man. “He makes no opposition, however.” 
“No opposition! Why should lie?” 
“ I am only a poor clerk, you know.” 
“Humph! A poor clerk! lias the minister never 
read Pore ? 
1 Honor and shame from no condition rise, 
Act well your part; there all the honor lies.’ 
That is wherein true manhood and high honor repose, beside himself. 
vo a cusiance. ui these was Helen Prescott’s 
father; a man of great purity of character, and 
sensitive to individual spheres. [To bo continued 
next week.] 
and Mttuot, 
LITTLE JOKERS. 
Why are fixed stars like wicked old men ? Because 
they scintillate, (sin till late.) 
What musical instrument has had an honorary 
degree conferred upon it? Fiddle I). D. 
tV ijy cannot the Emperor Napoleon insnre hiB life? 
Because no one can be found who can make out his 
policy, 
Tt is said that if you stop up rat-holes with old 
search warrant?, every knowing rat will leave the 
premises. 
Why does a coal barge weigh less than an empty 
Rack? Because, if the one is a light weight, the 
other is a lighter. 
W no Is it that is in two situations at once? A 
lover, for when he is beside his fair one he is usually 
My 8. 34. 38, 63, 29, 12, 24, 55 is a higlily-esteemed bulbons- 
rooted flower. 
My 59. 64. 40, 07, 33,22. 13. 20, 43, 60 is a well-known annnal. 
My 19. 46, 22, 70, 6. 49, 2. 16, 24 is a deserving annnal. 
My 70, 29. 69, 07, 49. 71. 30, 29. 60 is a showy border flower. 
Ml 25, 65. 1, 32. 26. 37. 67. 60 l* common in most gardens 
My 50. 36. 68, 0. 1, 49. 72 t* tin old-fsAhioned flower. 
My 7. 59. 37. 29. 36.13 is an ornamental flower for rock work. 
My 19, 42, 28 14. 6. 67. 4 belongs to the genua Primula. 
My 23, 71, 67, 60. 41 is a beautiful little perennial 
My whole is a couplet well worthy the attention of those 
who cultivate flowers. 
Franklin Sqnsu-e, N. Y., I860 Anna Starr 
ffy Answer in two weeks. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS. 
ual$ 
• • 
TOW 
, • . » , , -- ........... ..... hjivuiavvu miu njjill liUUUl ICUUPCt 
Not long. I’m nearly through.” And the clerk temptation, and we lmv* seen how, when the tempter /;,<,/,* action ennobles. Be true, faithful just, Hiram 
. -> i a . .... full till hurt in tin tirwrno /’.-.II 4 1.. .. I ' t J n 7 
bent down over the cash-book more intently. 
Mr. Overman, who bad closed the front windows 
and keyed the shutters, now'walked the floor for two 
or three minutes, waiting for bis young man to com¬ 
plete the work in which he was engaged. But an 
error had crept into the day’s business somewhere, 
and a balance was not reached on the first trial, \ 
slight murmur of disappointment gave Mr. Overman 
an intimation of this fact. 
“Cap’t you make it balance?” he said, walking to 
where the desks where placed, by a window in the 
back part of the store, and standing by his clerk. 
“Tt doesn’t come out right on the first trial,” was 
answered, “so 1 must go over it again. I’m sorry to 
keep you waiting, sir.” 
“1 promised to he home early,” said Mr. Overman. 
My wife has company. So, here’s the key. Be care¬ 
ful about this window, Hiram; and be sure that the 
bolt is well sprung in the lock,—you know it has a 
bad trick of catching half way sometimes. Leave the 
key at my house as you go past” 
The young man promised to observe strictly; and 
Mr. Overman left him to the work of balancing the 
day’s account with cash. It was sundown, and nearly 
half an hour of twilight remained. Ten minutes were 
spent in adding up the columns of figures again, and 
getting at the amount of money which should he on 
hand. Then the cash was counted, and the sum 
added to the balance in hank. 
“One hundred dollars over.” Something of satis¬ 
faction blended with the disappointment that was 
expressed in his voicef. Twice he counted over the 
bills and coin in the cash-box, and then sat very still, 
his thought running back through the day’s transac¬ 
tions in search of some clue to the error. None 
could be found. 
"There’s a mistake in the figures somewhere, and 
I must discover it,” he said, with a long sigh; and 
bent over the pages of the cash-book again. 
“ Ha! Three, is it? la-t me run that column up 
again.” A thrill of excitement was in his low voice. 
“Three it is, and my footing is two. That will 
make the hundred dollars. All right!” 
He lifted from the desk an erasing knife, and laid 
its edge over the numeral ${ but his hand lingered. 
A thought, suddenly thrown into his mind, caused 
him to hesitate. Then the knife was laid down. He 
sat absorbed and motionless for several minutes. In 
that brief time an evil counsellor had prevailed over 
the young man. His hand was not steady as it moved 
to the cash-box; and there was a visible tremor of the 
bank bills as they passed hurriedly through his lingers. 
One hundred dollars were selected and laid in a pile 
on the desk; the balance was returned to the box. 
Why does the young man start, aud glance around 
in that half fearful way? It was only the cat’s light 
footsteps that came to his ears, as she moved across 
the floor. Mow changed his face! The forehead, so 
smooth and open a little while ago, is cut by three or 
four lines between the eyebrows. His lips are held 
tightly together, and express pain as well as resolute¬ 
ness of purpose. There is a shadow over the light of i 
his into user eyes. He glances, now from the window, 
and now looks around the store suspiciously; then , 
his eyes come back to the pile of bank bills which , 
were laid off from the rest. With a sudden movement , 
ho clutches the money and thrusts it into his pocket; , 
shuts the cash-book, and places it, with the cash-box, 
in the fire-proof, which he locks. His motions arc 
rapid beyond their wont, indicating unusual excite¬ 
ment of mind, as he closes and bolts the shutter, ( 
and locks the door. He forgets Mr. Overman’s in¬ 
junction about the tricky lock, and only half springs ] 
the bolt He is not thinking of duty; but of the t 
hundred dollars that lie wrongfully in his pocket A j 
single act has obstructed the old right habits of mind. | 
False from will in higher things, oblivion as to com- ^ 
mem duties comes in legitimate order. 
Mr. Overman is standing in his door as Hiram fi 
comes in sight. The storekeeper Is a kind-hearted, 'I 
unsuspicious, but careful man, who makes it a point d 
to look pretty closely after Iris ow n affairs. He is not <] 
much behind his clerk in arriving ut the store each r 
morning, and generally locks up with his own hands, h 
at the day’s departure. ], 
“Did you get the balance?” he asked, as he took 
the key from Hiram. il 
“Yes, sir.” But it was not the clear, confident, a 
cheerful “ Yes, sir,” that usually fell from his lips, si 
He was painfully aware of this; so much so, that a w 
shudder of fear ran along his nerves, lest suspicion 
found him, in an unguarded moment, befell. Alas! 
, When the feet turn aside from right paths, who can 
, «ay into what deserts and wildernesses they may be 
doomed to wander? 
From.the supper table, Hiram went to his room, 
the door of which he fastened carefully on the inner 
side. This was an unusual precaution. But Hiram 
carried with him a new consciousness that involved 
fear, lie drew a deep breath, as if trying to relieve 
his bosom from a weight Then lie sat down by the 
<*ble where he had placed his lamp, and thrusting 
his hand into his pocket, drew therefrom a roll of 
bank bills, the rightful property of Mr. Overman. 
lie bad partly unfolded them, when a shade of 
anxiety fell suddenly on his face, and he glanced sus¬ 
piciously toward the window of his room, crumpling 
the bills at the same time in his hand, and so conceal¬ 
ing them. Rising, he went to the window and looked 
out taking careful note of the situation and aspect 
of two or three houses in the neighborhood, in order 
to bo sure that lie was not in the range of observation. 
Then, after closing the shutter, and drawing an inside 
curtain that shaded half the window, he sat down 
again to the tabic from which he had just arisen, and 
relaxing the firm grip with winch he was holding 
the bank bills, spread them out before him. 
A change in look and manner now became apparent. 
There was a certain lighting up of his lace, as from 
pleasant excitement, and a quick movement of the 
hands as lie counted over the money. 
“One hundred dollars.” He spoke in alow mur¬ 
mur of sound; and then, as if thought had become 
active in some direction of interest, sat very still for 
a long time. His closely shut mouth, fixed, indrawn 
gaze, and compressed brows, showed that his mind 
was Intent on themes, to him, of the highest moment. 
There was no fear, weakness, or repentance on his 
almost rigid countenance; but an aspect of fixed 
determination. He had passed the Rubicon, and was 
looking forward, not back. A new way had suddenly 
opened before him- a new way to that advancement 
in the world on which he was to build, In the future, 
Ills temple of happiness. Mr. Overman was not a 
auspicious man, and, of late, had trusted him more 
and more implicitly. Mr. Overman was not a ready 
accountant; and so, the books were all in his hands. 
Formerly, Mr. Overman had been careful in his daily 
examinations of the cash account, but it was a rare 
thing for him to look over it now, and when ho did 
do so, it was in so cursory a manner, that an error 
might lie just before him and not be seen. AII this 
was thought of by the dishonest clerk, and in it he 
found encouragement to press forward in an evil way. 
There came a low rap on the door. Hiram Foster 
started, turned u little pale, and clutched at the bank 
bills that yet lay upon the table. 
“What’s wanted?” he asked, the strangeness of 
his voice startling his own ears. 
“ Here’s a letter for you?" It was a servant who 
replied. 
Hiram slipped the bolt, trying to do it noiselessly, 
and partly opening the door, received a letter from 
the servant's band. It was contained in an ordinary 
brown envelope, and the direction, " Hiram Foster,” 
was in a bold business hand, the familiarity of which 
made his heart leap and tremble. He re-bolted the 
door, and sitting down by the table, broke the envel¬ 
ope. The enclosure read, 
1 wish to see you, Hiram C.’itl around after sunnot. 
I wialj to 8t*u yuBj II mam Call iitohimJ after mppot. 
Wesley Overman.” 
An instant paleness overspread the young man's 
face; his lips fell apart; heads of perspiration came 
out upon his forehead; his heart sunk with terror. 
Was it possible that some ono had observed him, 
through the window, at the store, and communicated 
his crime to Mr. Overman! That thought, flung into 
his mind, caused a deep shudder to go down to his 
very interior consciousness. 
“What can he want with me?” he said, rising 
from the table, with a look of anxiety in his face. 
The money was still held tightly in his hand. To 
dispose of this money was the next question. He 
dare not take it with him, for, if Mr. Overman lmd 
received any intimutions of the truth, its presence on 
• arid you Btand the peer of any one! 
1 The manthe gold for ft' that.* ” 
0 
The young man’s eyes dropped to the floor. He 
felt rebuked. 
j. “When do you think of getting married?” asked 
( Mr. Overman. 
j "Not for a long time yet,” answered Hiram. 
“Why defer so indefinitely the happy day ? ” 
“ My income is too small." 
“Four hundred dollars a year?” 
j. “Yes, sir.” 
“I was receiving no more when 1 got married.” 
f “The times are mure expensive,” replied the clerk. 
“We are expected to live differently now, than when 
you were a young man." 
“There’* something in that,” said Mr. Overman. 
I “Pride is expensive. Our superfluities cost us more 
than our necessities. We live too much in other 
people’ll eyes; and too uTtie within ourselves. But, 
the world’s ways are enticing, and wo cannot go easily 
against the current of things. Four hundred dollars 
will not do; so, Hiram, as yon arc a faithful, honest, 
intelligent young man—true to my interests — I will 
make it six, with a promise of something better, if 
business holds goo-L It was to say this that I sent 
for you. Get married, and be happy,” 
If, twenty-four hours previous to this time, Mr. 
Overman had thus spoken to his clerk, what a 
different and purer element would have been in the 
pleasure that mode his heart leap up and swell — 
sending bright blood to his cheeks, and luster to his 
gladsome eyes. There would have been a different 
tone in the ardor with which he took the extended 
hand of his kind-hearted employer, and pressed it 
tightly in both of his. 
“ How shall I thunk you?” he answered, and as he 
said so, he felt that he was acting beyond his real 
feelings. Two hundred dollars advance of salary! 
It was something better than lie had been receiving,— 
but not on six hundred dollars would he venture to 
marry Helen Prescott, whose father's objections 
to his humbler condition in life had piqued his pride. 
But his feelings suffered no depression on this ac¬ 
count; for, had be not another source of income? 
“Faithful”—“honest” — “true to my interests.” 
It was only by the strongest effort of will that Hiram 
could keep his eyes on the face of Mr. Overman, as 
these words were spoken in his praise. For a 
moment <*r two, it seemed as if lie would lose all 
control of his countenance, and let shame reveal 
itself in red confusion. He felt sure that guilt looked I 
out of his unsteady eye.-, and so let them drop to the 
floor. 
“Fix an early wedding day, Hiram,” said Mr. 
Overman, in his free, off-hand manner. “There’s 
nothing to interpose now. If Helen’s father makeB 
any objection, i'll manage him. A little high strung, 
is he? Humph! Your ministers, and lawyers, and 
doctors, have, generally, a weakness in that direction. 
They Kcern to think themselves made of finer stuff 
than most people. 1. ving so much among books 
Ims, I imagine, something to do with the fancy. But, 
Mr. Pkehoott is a good, sensible man; and we’ll 
have no trouble with him.” 
As soon as it was possible, without show ing in¬ 
decorous haste to get away from the rebuking pres¬ 
ence of Mr. Overman. Hiram Foster retired. He 
felt strangely bewildered and oppressed, as lie gained 
the street, lie had been like one bound and in fear; 
now, there was u partial sense of freedom, and a re¬ 
moval of dread — but tho haunting terror only went 
off, so to speak, a little way, and there stood still, 1 
largo, indistinct, and vaguely threatening. There ' 
had occurred, within the space of a few hours, a 1 
great change in his inner, or spiritual relations. ' 
What they were, he did not comprehend. Nay, his * 
thought did not even dwell on the new mental phe- * 
nomena that were transpiring. He was a more passive ’ 
than an intelligent'subject — feeling, but not com- 1 
prebending. Tranquillity, and that sense of security ' 
which the innocent enjoy, were gone; and in their 
place was a sense of impending danger. Hope looked 
onward to the future that was opening with brighter [ 
A brilliant young gentleman remarked to a lady 
with whom he was bowling, “ I think. Miss, that you 
ivonld make a capital baker.” “Indeed, sir, why?” 
5 “ Because you make such excellent rolls.” 
An old count paid his addresses to a rich heiress. 
On asking her hand in marriage, he frankly said to 
her, “ Madamoiselle, I am very old, and you are very 
young; will you do me the honor to become my 
widow?” 
A garrulous fop, who had annoyed, by his frivolous 
remarks, his partner in the ball-room, among other 
empty things, asked whether “ she had ever had her 
ears pierced?” “No,” was the reply; “but I have 
often had them bored /” 
“Didn't you tell me, sir, you could hold the 
plow?” said a farmer to a green Irishman, whom he 
, had taken on trial. “ Arrah, be aiRy, now!” said 
• Pat. “ llow the deuce can 1 hnld it, and two horses 
drawing it away from me! Hut give it to me in the 
barn, and be jabers, I’ll liould it with anybody!” 
A clergyman, visiting a school house at tbe Mon- 
son alms house, the other day, made some remarks to 
the children, in which he endeavored to illustrate the 
sinful condition of men in a familiar way. “ You 
know,” said the clergyman, “that the negroes at the 
South are serving their masters. Now, we, sinful 
Creatures, are serving a master who is worse than a 
slave driver, and can any boy tell me who that 
master is?” “Yes, sir,” said one of tbe lads, “it is 
James Buchanan.” 
♦ • ♦ - -v 
Bankrbptcy Illustrated. — Two merchants were 
standing in Wall street discoursing on bankruptcy, 
when one of them saw a real live Yankee lumbering 
down street with a knife and stick in his hands. 
“ Now for some sport,” said one of the merchants. 
“ We’ll ask his opinion on bankruptcy, or rather itis 
ideas.” lie hailed the Yankee with 
Hallo, friend, cau you toll us the meaning of 
bankruptcy?” 
“ Well, 1 reckon I kin—and skin me if I don’t” 
“ Please explain.” 
“Well, you fust lend me a five for about three 
l minutes.” 
“ Here it is—now proceed.” 
“Well, now, I owe Zeke Smith five cents, Sam 
Brown, the tailor, live dollars for this ’ere coat, and 
you five.” 
“Well,” said the merohant, “now give me my 
j five.” 
“ Hli, git cout, I’m a bankrupt, and you come in 
for a share with the rest,” and he left the astonished 
merchant to whistle fur his five. 
Sa(i)i.Ient Wit. — Jones was riding up in West- 
Chester county, and saw a board nailed up on a post i 
in the yard of a farm house, with the sign painted on 1 
it:—“This Farm for Sail.” Always ready Tor a little 
pleasantry, and seeing the woman in checked snn- j 
bonnet picking up an apronliill of chips at the wood- i 
pile in front of the house, he stopped, and asked her 1 
very politely, when the farm was to sad, She went 
on with her work, but replied to his question 
instanter, “Just as soon as the man comes along < 
who can raise the wind!’' Jones hit Dobbiu a sudden - 
cut with the whip and dashed on. * 
t 
♦ * * ->- 
i 
A Hint to Gardeners. —The latest invention is an r 
instrument to prevent poultry from scratching np 1 
the gardens. It is something like a long spur, j' 
attached to the hind part of a rooster’s leg. The 
instrument is so arranged that when the fowl is about t 
to scratch the earth, tbe spur catches in the ground o 
before the foot has fairly descended, and obliges it to ^ 
bring its foot down quietly and harmlessly in front of j' 
the place where it aimed at. Tbe fowl, thereupon, 
tries the other foot with a like result. It keeps on 
trying, and before it is aware of it, the mackiae has ® 
walked it right out of the garden. a 
US?” Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
A gentleman had three pieces of land, the first in the 
lonn of a square, the second in the form of a right-angle 
triangle, and the third in the form of a rectangle. Tho 
shorter side of the rectangle is equal to just half the side of 
the square—the longer side is equal to the hypo then use of 
the triangular piece, and the Base of the triangular piece is 
equal to the side of the square. Now, the area of tho 
rectangle, together with tho area of the triangle, is equal to 
four times the square or the shorter side of the rectangle; 
aud the perimeter of the rectangle, together with the 
perimeter of the triangle, minus twenty five, is equal to the 
perimeter of the square. What is the length of the side of 
the square, and the length Of the sides of the triangle and 
rectangle, and also tho area of each? 
Verona, Onei. Co., N Y., 1800. S. G. Caowin. 
Answer in two weeks. 
« ^ I ■ ■ 
CHARADE. 
My Bret's a king of ancient ilate, 
Who in the East did reign, 
And wished to curse the Israelites 
When on their way to Canaan. 
My second you will often see 
Running down the volcano’s side, 
Spreading, in ifi onward, fiery course, 
Destruction far and wide. 
My whole’s the name of a battle field. 
Where British valor shone, 
And added to the English arms 
Both honor and renown. 
C'jjf” Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A RIDDLE. 
Which was created first—hands or feet? 
Pana, Ill., 1850. 
Of” Answer in two weeks. 
D. B. Paints. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c„ IN No. 571, 
Answer to Grammatical Enigma:—Simple jrride for flattery 
makes demands. 
Answer to Charade:—Boat-swain. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—From the last station, 
6 miles; from the earth, 3 miles. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY WEEKLY, 
IS Pt’HLlHHKD EVERY SATURDAY 
BY D. D. T. MOORE. ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
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Agents as follows.- Three Copies one year, for $S ; Six, and one 
free to club agent, for $10; Ten, and one free, for $16, Fifteen, 
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greater number at some rate —only $1,25 per copy with au 
extra li-ee copy for every Ten Subscriber* over Twenty. Club 
paper* directed to Individuals aud sent to as many different 
Post-Offices us desired. As we pre-pay American postage on 
papers sent to tin- British Provinces, our Canadian agent* and 
Inends must mid RCi cents per copy to the club rates of the 
Rural. The lowest price of copies sent to Europe, &c., is $2,50 
-including postage. 
SY'-TitK above Terms and Rates are invariable, fund those 
who remit less than specified for a single copy or club, will be 
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Any person who is not an agent sending the club rate ($1,50 or 
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request the paper lot a year, or u return of the money, cannot 
be azeommodated for it would be unjust toothers to comply, 
and a great inconvenience to return remittances The only way 
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atdvrrttsing —Thirty-Fivk Cents a Link, each inser¬ 
tion. A price wild a half tor extra display, or 62^ cents per line 
of space. Special Noticks, (following reading matter, leaded.) 
Sixty Cents a Line. IVTins Hr pal New-Yorker has a far 
larger circulation than any similar journal in the world, and is 
undoubtedly tire Iwst advertising medium of its class in A inerica. 
A Double Prescription. — A gentleman, wrote to 
liifl person might transpire, and his ruin be hope- prospects; but strange, threatening shadows hung note: 
lessly consummated. over the beauty and brightness tbutlayin the smiling “ L 
“ This is a doubtful and dangerous business!” Ah! beyond. Ashe walked onward, is the calm starry got a 
if with that conviction, Hiram Foster, and that evening, it seemed as if a shadowy form were moving them, 
acknowledgment, you had said, in irrevocable deci- along just behind him. Two or three times he Dec, 
sion, “I will stop here, and go back to the right stopped and turned around, each time appearing to candv 
catch a glimpse of something that flitted or faded 
like a phantaemagorial image. 
Dr. Francis, of New York, last week, the following 
There was, he felt, aB much danger in leaving the 
“ Dear Doctor: —I caught cold yesterday, and have 
got a little horse. Please write what I shall do for 
them.” j. p. 
Dear P: —For the cold, take half a pound of butter 
candy. For the little horse, buy a saddle aud bridle, 
and ride him out of town, the first time we have 
pleasant weather.” I)r. F. 
l ~i~ Asy perxon so disposud can act a- local agent for the 
Rural Nkw-Yokkkk, and those who volunteer ui the good 
cause will receive gratuities, and their kiuduea* lie appreciated. 
IYT Voluntary Agents kok the Rural.—A ny and every 
Subscriber or reader is requested to act in behalf of tbe Rural, 
by forming clubs or otherwise. Now is the time for its friends 
to manifest their interest in the paper and the- cause it advocates, 
either by obtaining new subscribeix. or inducing other* to act in 
its behalf. If any lose or wear out numl>ers in showing the 
paper— that* the best way to get subscriber*, we will duplicate 
them in order to make their files complete for binding 
The Enlargement of the Rural New-Yorker 
was announced some week* ago. We promised to enlarge it 
one-sixth, but have in fact performed, much more—for, according 
to the figures of printers, the Rural now contains q.vx-HlPrn 
work reading, the increased, amount equaling eight columns of 
our old measure, or over il page and a half in each number .' 
