$mm s 
“I must speak out before we proceed a step 
further!” 
The pallid features and trembling voice of the 
jX’Unc artist alarmed the old man. 
“What is the matter?" he cried: “what can 
yon have to say at such a moment as this?” 
“.Sir,” said the artist, “I am not the man ^ 
whom yon expected.” 
The major fell back on his seat as if struck 
by a cannon shot. 
’ •• You are not Mr. Smith?” he cried in a chok¬ 
ing voice. 
Hereupon the painter related, with loyal frank¬ 
ness, the incidents which had conducted him to 
the home of Emily’s mother: the error which 
had kept him there np to the moment of his 
introduction to the guests In the drawing room, 
and the real, though apparently trivial, motives 
which had prevented him from’proclaiming the 
truth, 
•‘Ah! sir,” cried the major, in despair, “what 
shall we do now?—what step can we take? My niece 
is ruined! And that is not the worst, her reputation 
is compromised—lost!—as well as her mother’s and 
my own! Before more than twenty persons we have 
all three declared that we knew you some time. How 
can we retract those words without drawing upon 
ourselves the most terrible ridicule and scandal? 
This will kill my niece, air!” 
“I am ready to do anything,” said Raffaelle. 
“How can I repair the misfortune of this fatal mis¬ 
take?” 
“It is too late!” cried the major. “There is no 
way of saving onrselves!” 
At this moment the coach pulled up at the church 
door. 
“What is to be done?" inquired the artist, as he 
alighted before the door of the sacred edifice. 
“ My dear Bir,” answered the major—whose mili¬ 
tary decision seemed to be restored—“this is to he 
done; yon must marry my niece. It is true yon are 
a stranger to me; but so is my nephew’s friend. The 
manner in which you have just spoken the truth to 
me, tells me that yon are u man of honor. Hasten, 
sir!—take Emily’s hand!—hut, remember, not a word 
of this to any one: ii is a secret between us both." 
And, with these words, the major hastily pushed 
Raffaelle into the church. In a few moments the 
artist stood before the altar, beside a young and 
charming girl of twenty, whose face wore'an expres¬ 
sion as tender and pure as that of a Madonna painted 
by one of the old masters of Italy. She wa , indeed, 
exquisitely beautiful. She cast up her eyes at the 
approach of the youirg artist; her glance, at first 
timid, became in an instant more re-risen red as she 
saw what a handsome, and, more than all, what, an 
open, honest face looked upon her own. As the 
major afterward declared, it might have, been seen 
by anv one that the emotion and blushes of both 
Raffaelle and Emily clearly betokened an affair of 
love at first “gbt. 
The marriage was celebrated, and the ceremony 
was followed, to the great, joy of the bridegroom, by 
a splendid repast. The major took advantage of a 
favorable moment to slip out, so as to intercept bis 
nephew Charles, with his friend, the other and origi¬ 
nal Mr. .Smith. He met them in a hotel in the neigh¬ 
boring town to Cokehampton. He learnt that both 
had been passengers iu the train which had been 
run into. Charles had escaped unhurt: but his 
friend had received a severe injury. 
The major told all to his nephew. Poor Smith 
No. 1, after lying for some time in a dangerous con¬ 
dition, at length recovered, and was induced to go 
back to London, without making any protest against 
the marriage, to which a common form of surname 
and the accidents of steam had given rise. Charles 
at first wanted to lodge the contents of a five-barreled 
Coifs revolver in the breast of his improvised 
brother-in-law; but, after a few months, be shook 
hands warmly with the man whom be found to be 
dearly loved by bis sister, and Boon became as devo¬ 
tedly attached to him as to the ^mith of his school 
days. 
llaffaelle is an excellent husband. Chance has 
made this pair more happy than thousands who 
have spent time and thought jn choosing. Emily 
loves her husband, llaffaelle Smith adore* his wife, 
hut he is very careful never to tell her that he was 
“married for a dinner.” 
Smith,” said the lady, holding out her hand, with 
another of her elegant hut most inexplicable smiles. 
And she went out, leaving my friend in a condition 
bordering upon complete stupefaction. 
“ Well, well,” he said, when he had somewhat re¬ 
covered himself, “if this is a farce, it is not a bad 
one. I must admit that the matron of the piece plays 
her part*in the most captivating manner. But I think 
I may be allowed to call her a most puzzling old lady. 
Ah! ifd only understood a single word of this affair’ 
If I only knew her son who is called Charles, and her 
brother, the Major, who is to come to conduct me to 
the assembled company, to introduce me, and to olfer 
me—something to eat, I hope ’ But I must hasten to 
put on the clothes of Charles— my most intimate, 
thongh unknown friend! The lady said they were 
in the wardrobe. Ab! tbiB is capital! Qoat, waist- 
coat, cravat, patent leathers, ail beret and on the 
dressing-table oils, brushes, cosmetics. Charles is 
evidently a swell of the most resplendent character!" 
In a very short time llaffaelle Smith was transformed 
into nfi elegant cavalier. While be was contemplat¬ 
ing himself with some satisfaction in a glass, and 
taking in, by several holes, the band of that, article of 
attire which envelopes the neither extremities, with 
a view of silencing the murmurs of his stomach, an 
individual entered the apartment and llaffaelle heard 
behind him, in a deep bass voice— 
“ Well, my dear Mr. Smith, are you now ready?" 
A glance at that tall, meagre, military form,' that 
hooked nose, that white moustache, told the painter 
that it was the Major. RaflTaelle was .by no means 
comfortable in spirit as he turned towards the old 
man. The latter, however, seemed to review him 
from head to foot with an air of satisfaction. 
“ I urn glad t.o find that Charles has not deceived 
ns. I must admit that your are a smart young fellow, 
and not ill-Huited to the business we have before n«. 
Your hand, Mr. Smith. We are not strangers, al¬ 
though we now see each other for the first, time. I 
hope you bavn’t forgotten the instructions given you 
by Charles!” 
“On that point, my dear sir,” replied Raflhelle, 
“yon may be quite easy, r can assure you that. I 
have not forgotten one word of what Charles has told 
me.” 
“Very good. You will recollect that my niece’s 
name is Emily, and that it is absolutely essential, in 
order to save her in the eyes of the world, and partic¬ 
ularly 5n the eyes of my old cousin Lucy's friends— it 
iB imperative, I repeat, in order that our proceedings 
may not appear strange, unbecoming and abrupt, that, 
you should pretend to have made the acquaintance of 
niece while she was staying with her mother in Lon¬ 
don. a year ago. Ho you understand?” 
“Perfectly, Major, perfectly.” 
“ Then lei us go down at once.” 
Raflaelle Smith experienced considerable hesitation 
at this critical moment: but the singularity of the 
adventure, the desire to see the conclusion, and it 
must also he added, the devouring appetite which 
tormented him, all united in compelling him to fol¬ 
low in the Major's footsteps. The latter led the way 
down a vast und richly decorated staircase, and 
opening a door, ushered him Into ft magnificent 
drawing-room, where the bewildered painter found 
himself in the presence of a brilliant and numerous 
assembly. The entrance of the Major and painter 
produced a general sensation. 
“I have the honor,” said the Major, “to Introduce 
to you Mr. Smith—the future husband of Emily Shut- 
tleworth, my niece.” 
At this extraordinary announcement, Raffhelle felt 
bis knees giving way beneath him—all the blood in 
his body seemed to he rushing into his cheeks—he 
was a victim to vertigo—he was fairly stunned—and 
If the Major had not supported him, be would certain¬ 
ly have fallen backwards. 
“Be cool,” whispered the major, “be self-possess¬ 
ed, .Smith! Master your emotion.” 
To recover himself cost the young artist the great¬ 
est, effort he had ever made in his life. The major 
conducted him toward the lady whom he had already 
seen, and who was introduced to him us the mother 
of Emily. In a very short time Rafl’aelle found him¬ 
self surrounded l»y the relatives and friends of the 
young lady, whom he had no more idea of marrying 
than of allying himself matrimonially with a squaw 
of the Choctaw Indians. Jtaffkelle felt himself some¬ 
what of a culprit, as lie stood there receiving con¬ 
gratulations. and avert m/dei With marks of respect 
and friendship from tin o'-ll-bred people Congregated- 
in a house wherein ht lied no better claim to be 
present than a burglar. In an excess of embarrass¬ 
ment, Rafl'aelle turned ir search of his military guide. 
He was resolved to put an end to an affair which was 
rapidly becoming too serious and too alarming for 
any man of delicacy to prolong by hi? silence. The 
major, taking him aside into a recess of one of the 
spacious windows, cut short the first efforts of the 
artist to carry out his honorable intention. 
“Tilt, tut!” said he, with true military prompti¬ 
tude; "not a word, my dear Smith. 1 repeat, your 
arrival makes me the happiest man alive!” 
“ But, my dear sir—your niece-“ 
“My niece thiuks as I do, sir, and as her mother 
thinks. Mr. Smith, just imagine what we felt when 
we heard that a train had been run into only a few 
miles from Cokehampton—several carriages smashed, 
sir; and, ha I you been in that train, mv niece would 
have lost a fortune of fifty thousand pounds.” 
The perplexed Raffaelle could only repeat the nu¬ 
merals in reply. 
“Yes, my dear Smith,” continued the major; “fifty 
thousand pounds, sir! For to-morrow the date given 
in my old cousin Lucy's will expires.” 
“To-morrow the date given in your old cousin 
Lucy’s will expires!” was all that Raffaellc could 
repeat. 
“To-morrow at twelve, sir! But that stupid dog 
Charles should have told you all this. Hut perhaps 
he has only very imperfectly explained to you my 
cousin’s extraordinary will.” 
“ Very imperfectly.” replied Raffaelle. 
“Well, I will furnish you with all the details. 
Yon must know that my cousin Lucy died n year 
since, leaving a sum of money amounting to fifty 
thousand pounds. Now that sum was left to my 
niece Emily, on the express condition that she 
should he a married woman a year and a day after 
the* date of the testator’s death’. Failing in which, 
all the property goes to charities. We loved Emily 
too much to force her into a hasty and distasteful 
union. Emily has not reached her twenty-first year; 
and she has never yet met one on whom she could be¬ 
stow her loving heart. Time went on, and we were on 
the point of resigning the brilliant fortune which 
had been left to ’her on such extraordinary condi¬ 
tions, when, a few days since, her brother Charles 
suddenly wrote to ns—• Emily shall be married before 
the appointed time!’ We at first received tins inti¬ 
mation as a piece of idle pleasantry; hut Charles 
spoke of you with so much admiration—he drew 
“ You’re the very gent, sir,” answered the groom, 
readily: “ and heTe’s the note she sent you.” 
Raffaelle hastily snatched a little note which the 
groom held towards him. The address was plain 
enough “ Mr. Smith,” although the writing was 
Completely unknown to the artist. He tore open the 
envelope, impatient to see what signature was at the 
end of the epistle; but to crown the mystery, the 
note was anonymous, and contained only these 
words: 
“Mr. Smith is awaited with the greatest anxiety, 
and he is begged instantly to follow the bearer of 
this note. Every reliance is placed on his alacrity 
and discretion.” 
Now, this was an adventure that commenced in too 
charming a fashion not to he followed np. Raffaelle 
at once forgot the refreshment counter at Cokehamp¬ 
ton, and the next train. He boldly commanded the 
groom to “Co on!” 
“It is not two minutes walk,” answered the ser¬ 
vant, leading the way. 
“All the better.'’ thought the artist: “for I am 
literally dying with hunger and curiosity.” 
But, on suddenly turning a corner ont of the High 
street, Raffaelle saw an elegant, brougham, into which 
the groom invited him to enter. The artist took his 
seat therein, and the driver instantly whipped his 
horses Into u fast pace. Raffaelle had learned nothing 
from his interrogation of the groom. He threw' him¬ 
self back on the seat, and resigned himself to await 
the denouement of hi* traveling adventure. “All. 
ha!” he said to himself, and the brougham dashed 
along the road, “the whole thing resembles an inci¬ 
dent in a play, and J am at this moment performing 
the part of a fashionable lover flying to a secret ren¬ 
dezvous with hi* lady love. At any rate, it will be a 
good story to tell my friends, — that is, provided the 
play does not terminate in a lugubrious fashion. Cne 
thing is certain,” he continued, “ which is, that f 
don't know a single individual in Cokehampton. 
Can any of my friends have come down hero without 
my knowledge? No, that hypothesis will nottrtftttd, 
for I left London without, toiling a single soul where 
T was going. None of mv chums know where I am, 
and I only intended to bid tliem good bye by letter, 
after I had put fifty miles of railroad between ns.” 
The horses still maintained their fast pace, and 
Raffaelle threw himself back in the carriage, giving 
free rein to his imagination, “ I have it!" he cried, 
suddenly slapping his knee, “I have found the key 
of the enigma! I’ll wager that thi* i* the work of 
Thompson or Megilp. 1 don’t know which, but I 
have a dim recollection of one of them telling me he 
had an uncle living in Hie neighborhood of Coke¬ 
hampton. That’s it! Either Thompson or Megilp is 
rusticating down here,—has seen me get out at the 
railway station,— and (sublime idea!) has sent me an 
improvised invitation. A clever and discreet groom 
a mysterious note,— I am carried off,—1 alight at 
the avuncular door,— delightfol surprise,— introduc¬ 
tion,— good dinner—capital little parly -choice 
wine—lights — conversation. Ah! a good joke!” 
Raffaelle had no sooner brought his soliloquy to 
this satisfactory termination, than lie thrust his head 
out of the window, lie was resolved to put his Idea 
at once upon an authentic basis, by extracting a few 
confirmatory replies from the groom. 
“HI, coachman! just pull up a moment. Young 
man.” he continued, addressing the groom, “ I want 
you to answer me a question.” 
The coachman pulled np his horses; the groom was 
at the door in an instant. 
“ Your master’s name is Thompson?” inquired 
Raflaelle. 
The groom touched his hat. “ No, sir.” 
“ Then you are In the service of Mr. Megilp?” 
“Don’t known no person of that name, air,” re¬ 
plied the laconic grootn. , 
Raffaelle fell back in bis seat, thoroughly routed. 
In an instant the active groom bad resumed his place 
beside the driver, and the vehicle was whirling rapid¬ 
ly along the roud. Raffaelle pulled hi? hat over his 
eyes, crossed Ids arms, and felt like a General whose 
elite corps, sent forward to turn the tide of the battle, 
had just been repulsed—annihilated. At the end of 
ten minutes the brougham stopped before a little 
green gate, which was immediately opened. The 
artist descended, and mechanically followed a servant, 
who led him across a garden. After proceeding 
along a trimly kept gravel walk, he reached the back 
entrance of a'country mansion, 
“Reg pardon, sir,” said the domestic, “but.mis¬ 
tress thought you would not mind coming into the 
house through the kitchen, ns you might not like to 
be seen by the company till you had changed your 
dress.” 
"Don’t mention it,” replied Raffaelle, casting a 
glance at the great fire, the spit, ami the bright stew- 
pans. They crossed the kitchen, and the servant, 
opening the door, led the way up the narrow stair¬ 
case. 
“ Hush! Re silent as you can, sir: we are on the 
private stairs of the house, leadingto your apartment. 
Fray take care 
[ Thk following beautiful lines are from Harper's Weekly 
lor the enm-nt week. There is a touching pathos in them 
that only a fond mother could breathe in behalf of her brave 
“ volunteer boy:”] 
I know the sun shines, and the lilacs are blowing, 
And summer sends kisses by beautiful May— 
Oh, to see all the treasures the Spring is bestowing, 
And think—my boy Willie enlisted to-day! 
It seems but a day since at twilight, low bumming 
I rocked him to sleep with his cheek upon mine, 
While Robby, the four year old, watched for the coming 
Of father, adown the street’s indistinct line. 
It is many a year since my Harry departed, 
To come back no more in the twilight or dawn; 
And Robby grew weary of watching, and started 
Alone, on the journey hi* father had gone. 
It is many a year—and this afternoon, sitting 
At Rohby’s old window, I heard the band play, 
And suddenly censed dreaming over my knitting 
To recollect Willie is twenty to day; 
And that, standing beside him this soft May-day morning, 
The sun making gold of bis wreathed cigar smoke, 
I saw in hi* sweet eves and lips a f'aiDt warning, 
And choked down the tears when he eagerly spoke: 
“ Dear mother, you know that those traitors are crowing, 
They trample the folds of our (lag In the dust; 
The boys are all tire; and they wish I were going ”— 
He stopped, but his eyes said, “ Oh, say if I must!” 
I smiled on the hoy, though my heart it seemed breaking; 
My eyes (Hied with tears, so I turned them away, 
And answered him, u Willie, flls well you are waking— 
Go act a» your father would bid you to-day!” 
I sit in the window and see the flag flying, 
And dreamily list to the roll of the drum, 
And smother the pain In my heart that is lying, 
And bid all the fears In my bosom be dumb. 
I shall sit In the window when Summer is lying 
Out over the Held*, and the honey-bees’ hum 
Lulls the rose at the porch from her tremulous sighing, 
And watch for the face of my darling to come. 
And if he should fall—his young life he has given 
For Freedom's sake—and for me 1 will pray 
Once more with my Harry and Robby in heaven 
To meet the dear boy that enlisted to-day. 
r ]' , H E BENEFACTOR. 
COOKING STOVE, FOR WOOD OR COAL. 
Baking and Roast ins done in Cnrrents of Fresh Healed Air, 
No. S Square Top. No 9 Square Top. 
No. 8 Extension Top. No. 9 Extension Top. 
Iv offering this new Cooking Stove to the public, we invite a 
candid, careful, comparative examination into its merits, after 
which we have mi fears in regard to the result. 
*• Thk Benkpautok " has two main features, which are new, 
and not found in anv stove to the market, not even in the so- 
called "first cla-s." Those features effectually remedy two 
great evils which have attended the nse of Cooking Stoves from 
the time of their first introduction, and which have made many 
« house-keeper nigh for the good old times of brick ovens and 
fire-place or roa-ting-spits. 
The comparative innutritions and unsavory quality given to 
tood cooked in the confined chamber of a Stove Oven, and the 
excessive heat, especially in the summer season, and conse¬ 
quent waste of fuel attending the use of all Cooking Stoves as 
heretofore constmcted. are evils seriously affecting the health, 
comfort and economy of the household 
The first new feature alluded to above, is the 
System of Ventilation, 
Ry which the Baking and all Cooking in the Oven is done in 
Currents of Healed-Air, instead of in a Confined Hot-air Cham¬ 
ber, ag in all other Stoves generally known to life public. 
The peculiar quality given to bread and pastry baked in the 
old fashioned Brick Oven, is given in this Stove tiv means of 
these cnrrents of fresh heated-air constantly passing through 
the oven during thn process of baking. Also, by the same 
means, meat- roasted fnnf baked) in tins oven, receive that 
same richness of taste and odor which we were wont to enjoy 
in the days of strings and spits, before an open tire 
Bread and Pastry Baking. 
During the process of linking large quantities of carbonic acid 
gas and noxious vapors are uecc—arily evolved. The) walls of 
the old fashioned Brick Oven absorb these vapors, heneb the 
excellence of that famous house bold fixture. 
Attempts have been made to* accomplish the same result by 
filling the irbn-oottd watts of stove ovens with rand, and also 
by building those walls of fir/ brie'k, but those contrivances to 
secure the advantages of a Brick Oven have proved to he as 
practically tireless as they are unphllosophienl in principle. 
The only method by which noxious vapors and gases caa be 
prevented front escaping into the rooms of the house, and by 
which the excellent effect of the Brick Oven can he secured in 
the use of Cooking Store-, is the one adopted in this stove, viz 
The free passage of currents of fresh air through the oven, t chick 
carry into the enlarged , ri( > moke file alt that is offensive or dele¬ 
terious, naturally or acridodaltg arising in the process of hairing. 
Roasting Meats. 
One well versed upon this -object, speaking in relation to 
(looking Stoves as heretofore made, says:—"These iron mon¬ 
sters that *a ve fuel, ami consume human life, have driven the 
old wood lire and groat stone chimney and huge oven,almost 
ont of memory, except to a fewWho have the hardihood to de¬ 
clare that no man ever knew what a good roast w as, whether of 
beef, mutton, v-al, pork, goose, duck or a glorious fat turkey— 
who ha* not eaten It that was cooked before a wood fire, sus¬ 
pended by a string or supported by a spit resting on the pon¬ 
derous fire dogs. To be sweet, nutritions and delightful to the 
palate, a rua.-t must be coolted iu the open air. The oxygen ot 
a free atmosphere is just as necessary as fire to make a good 
roast. ’ This author is entirely correct in his views, and this 
Stove, in Older to avoid the evils, and reeute the benefits allud¬ 
ed to, i* 80 constructed that, a free circulation «f fresh atmos¬ 
pheric air )- constantly kept up through the oven, thereby giv¬ 
ing to roasting meats the open nil- olivet so es-eutial Ho that, 
instead of the empyrenmatic stuff taken from otherstove ovens, 
you get savory, rich, delicious, toothsome roasted meat, as if 
done before a wood lire with nearly all the natural juices re¬ 
tained. Such meat is not only more palatable, hut more nutri¬ 
tious Ilian meat baked, (not roasted.) in stove ovens, as hereto¬ 
fore constructed, 
Application of the Heat to the Oven, 
The other main feature of this stove, which distinguishes it 
from all other stoves, is the peculiar manner in which the heat 
is applied to and retained upon the oven. The flues are con¬ 
structed Independent of each other and of the main outride 
plate* of the stove, so that by means of perforations through 
the oven plates, the entire radiating surface of the flues 1 b 
brought to bear directly upon the heat of the oven 
By this plan of construction, great economy of fuel is secured; 
also a quick and powerful, nr a steady, moderate heat upoo the 
oven, a-the opnr.um may desire ; the comfort ot a cool stove 
to do work by In the heal of rummer, because the main outside 
plates are never heated to a high degree of heat. This last 
statement will he made strikingly apparent by the fact that al¬ 
ter the fire-draft him been turned through the flues, the oven- 
bottom will Immediately become hissing hot, while the back 
and bottom of tin- stove will at the same time be cold to flie 
touch ol rhe band. In winter, the room may ho quicker and 
more easily healed than with other stove- when tile oven 1- 
not in u-e, by leaving the oven doors open time allowing a free 
circulation of air through the stove around the fire box, which, 
becoming heated in its passage, 1* distributed to all parts of the 
room 
Broiling. 
The Broiling arrangement is simple, natural and convenient, 
and Is located in or upon the fin-ltoMoro iu front. The natural 
accumulation of coal-trom the fire necessary to boil the tea 
kettle or coflee, when wood is the fuel used, will be suflieient to 
do the broiling. The a-h grate over the deep sink in the tire- 
bottom admits a live draft Through it, w hich keeps the coals 
alii r and carries tlm -moke into the stove. This arrangement 
obviates the disagree abb ar.d awkward ncees-ity of removing 
the coals with u shovel from the fire-box to the broiling hearth, 
as in some stove.-, or nf building a charcoal tiie on purpose tor 
broiling, or of broiling on the top of the stove. 
When coal 1*. the fuel need the broiling should be done over 
the fire with Brooke Grover's Patent Oval Grid Iron, which is 
the most perfect article for use upon coal stoves ever invented 
Tnn down train from London had just entered the 
Great Cokehampton station; the hour wa« 9,60 a. m., 
the time a lovely .June morning, a couple of years 
since. At Cokehampton, the railway traveler is 
allowed to leave his carriage for a few minutes, in 
order to snatch a hasty cup of coffee or a basin of 
BOim; but It being, as every one knows, the custom 
at Cokehampton to keep both these stimulants at a 
boiling point, the repast is usually performed itpdor 
considerable di flic til ties. Among the rest of those 
whose steps were directed by appetite towards the 
refreshment saloon was a straight, long-limbed, hand¬ 
some young fellow, with a brown shooting-jacket, 
brown mousbuhe, and a wide awake that had seen 
service. This was my friend Raffaelle Smith of Clip- 
stone street, London, landscape painter, journeying 
in the search of back-grounds, fore-grounds, ’ ami 
other “bit*” of nature, as be termed thorn, for his 
next gear’s pictures. As this may he it little too 
technical for the general reader, we may more clearly 
express what we mean by staling that, according to 
annual custom, the young artist, was going to the 
West country to sketch from nature. 
Now. it happened on this particular occasion, that 
although Raffaellc Smith had been ont of his bed 
since dawn, be bad spent so much time in packing 
his easal, canvasses, colors, and other baggage of bis 
artistic campaign, that it came to be a question 
whether he should breakfast and lose the train, or 
catch the train and lose his break fast. Breakfast, as 
the least, important, was sacrificed. Accordingly my 
friend found himself at Cokehampton, some sixty 
miles from London, with a most acute sense of empti¬ 
ness of stomach, just, as the railway guard was calling 
out, “Train starts in ten minutes, gents!” 
To a man in my friend's unbreakfasted condition, 
such an intimation could not have the effect of check¬ 
ing the ardor with which a traveler usually seeks the 
Cokehampton refreshment saloon. A very sharp ap¬ 
petite, and the exigencies of the railway time table, 
gave promptness to Raffaelle Smith’s movements, and 
caused that young luminary of art to he among the 
first of those, who sought refection at Cokehampton'* 
refreshment counters. Accordingly, the pressing In¬ 
junction of the guard hud scarcely been uttered, 
when my friend found himself at the most plentifully 
garnished portion of the table. The Cokehampton 
waitresses are no less neat handed than natty, and 
Raffaelle Smith’s appetite would, doubtless,’ have 
been quickly appeased, had not the following ques¬ 
tion interrupted his prefatory order for “Soup!” 
“Is there a genTinati here called Smith?” 
The artist, scrutinized the faces of his fellow travel¬ 
ers, in order to ascertain whether the question were 
addressed to any of them; and, a* no one replied, he 
himself went on to tlie servant. 
“ It appears that I am the only Mr. Smith here; do 
you want me?” 
“ I want a Mr, Smith who has arrived by the train 
from London.’’ 
“H’m! but I am unknown to a single inhabitant 
in this town.'’ 
“ I know that, sir," answered the groom, readily. 
“That is the reason why I am sent to you, sir.” 
“The reason why you are sent to me!” repeated 
Smith, in great, astonishment, “By whom?” 
“Perhaps you will be kiud enough to follow me,” 
continued the mysterious groom. “ I am ordered to 
speak to Mr. BmitU iu private.” 
A sudden misgiving took possession of Raffaelle 
Smith. “ Como, gentlemen,” he said, addressing his 
fellow travelers, "is it u practical joke? If any gen¬ 
tlemen present is the author of this piece of mystifi¬ 
cation, I charge him, in the name of stomach, the 
most worthy object of compassion in the world, to 
avow it at once,'ana to allow mo to utilize, without 
interruption, the few minutes that yet remain!” 
In answer to this novel summons, every one pro¬ 
tested complete ignorance of what was passing. 
Smith was resolved to pluck out the heart of this mys¬ 
tery. Curiosity imposed upou the stomach ft delay 
of several minutes, and the artist followed the groom 
out of the refreshment room. He, however, inform¬ 
ed his t raveling companions that he would return in 
the course of ft few seconds with the eolation of this 
enigma. The groom, who had heard the latter 
remark, put on a broad grin, and when they were in 
the street, -aid — 
"Beg pardon, sir,but wasn't you having ft laugh at 
them gents! They’ll be precious mistaken if they 
think you are going back to lunch there!” 
"I tell you what, young man,” replied Smith, irri¬ 
tated by tiie manner of the groom, “ mark me, if you 
don’t explain everything at once,—if yon have had 
the misfortune to be charged with a practical joke at 
my expense,—I bhnll not leave you without a sound 
thrashing" jho groom bowed respectfully,) “for 
cansiug me to lose ray luuch aud miss my train." 
“Ah, sir, 1 *i e you’re,a gent as wishes to have his 
joke,” replied the imperturbable groom, “Now, sir, 
don't you know very well that you will not leave 
Cokehampton to-day? As for the lunch, I don't think 
yon will mind that, when you see the magnificent 
spread getting ready for you up at the villa," 
The last phrase, though not more comprehensible 
than the other portion of the groom's conversation, 
somewhat calmed the artist's ire. 
“Then I am expected to dine by yonr master?” 
“You’ll be good enough to speak. about dinner with 
my mistress,” answered the messenger. 
“A lady, a good dinner, and a mystery! Well,” 
cried Raffaelle, flickering off the dust front his boots 
with his handkerchief, “all that is not very alarm¬ 
ing. The adventure is taking a rather interesting 
turn. Ouee mure,” he added, speaking to the domes¬ 
tic, “are von quite certain that it is to me, Raflaelle 
Smith, Clipstone street, London, landscape painter, 
that yonr mistress ba* sent this cordial invitation 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 14 letters. 
My 1, 8, 7, 6, 10, 4, 114s an annual calendar. 
My 2, 4. 3. 14 is a fanner's outbuilding. 
My ft. 6, 9, 3 is one of the integuments of the body. 
My 7, 6. 14 is a human being. 
My 8. 1, 7,2 is a very useful animal. 
My 9, If), J4 is a boarding place. 
My 11,12. 3 14 is -a kind of grain. 
My 12. 10, 9, 12.14 is a vegetable. 
My 13, 9, 12. 14 is found in Asia and Africa. 
My 14, 12. 1, 5 was an ancient builder. 
My whole is a uoted character. 
Cold Brook, Her. Co., N. Y., 1861. 1. G. Bkxsox 
Answer ip two weeks. 
hold on by the rail,—follow me!” 
Raffaelle ascended on tip toe. “This is your room, 
sir. Will yon please to take ft seat while 1 go in and 
inform my mist res*?” 
Raffaelle Smith dropped into a chair, (rack more 
entangled in au inextricable maze of supposition. 
“ There is evidently some mistake here. It is quite 
clear that I am token for some one else. When the 
lady of the house discovers that I am a total stranger, 
—well, 1 shall be politely shown to the door, amidst 
rhe laughter of the company,—that’s all! Come, the 
affair is now taking a tragic turn. That splendid 
repast, on which my imagination dwelt, is being 
whiHked from under my nose, like Sancho J’anza’s 
dinner. But if it turn* ont so,” muttered the en¬ 
raged artist between his teeth,—“if I am ejected 
from this house, my nnappeased appetite will drive 
me to half kill that villainous flunkey who lias brought 
me into this scrape. Hark! I hear footsteps! They 
approach! The catastrophe is now at hand!” 
The servant entered, and said in a whisper to Raf- 
faelle— 
“ Here is my mistress!” 
At the same instant a lady entered the apartment. 
She appeared about fifty years of age. Grave, self- 
possessed, autl perfectly lady-like, her deportment 
re assured the bewildered painter. The lady request¬ 
ed the servant to wait outside, advanced, and held 
out her hand with a smile, in which there was just a 
shade ofelegant and well-bred familiarity. Raffaellc 
responded to this polite reception by making several 
bows of an attempted aristocratic character. 
" What on earth is she going to say to me?” thought 
the young painter. “ The lady appears to look upon 
me in the light of a friend. I wonder what reason 
she will assign for my abduction?" 
“Ab, sir!” began the lady, 14 we have been await¬ 
ing your arrival with the greatest anxiety. It appears 
thatf harles has not accompanied you. as wo request¬ 
ed him to do. At any rate we have received you.” 
(Another smile on the part of the lady—giving her, 
in Ilaffaelle’s eyes, the most Sphinx-like attributes.! 
“ I am sure you will agree with me when I say that is 
the essential’ point. How many thanks and apologies 
do we not owe you!” 
“Owe me, madam! I am sure—yes—ab!” replied 
theyonng painter, judging that in such a reply there 
was nothing to compromise him. 
“ Yes, sir. But Charles has made you acquainted 
with the imperious motives which have caused us to 
act in this abrupt manner: and these strange and 
exceptional circumstances will. I trust, completely 
excuse us iti your eyes. Only an intimate friend of 
my son—a friend whom he has known since boyhood; 
a gentleman iu whom we could confide 08 in him— 
such a person only could we admit to a complicity in 
our plot. The CulogiiOn which Charles passed upou 
you, iu his letter of yesterday, informing U9 of your 
immediate departure from London, has fully satisfied 
us. My dear sir, I am certain we shall never have to 
repent having reposed our entire confidence in you— 
ol liaving confided to you that which we hold dearest 
in the world; and I beg of you to rest assured that 
you will never have cause to regret having placed 
implicit reliance on the honor of Charles and of our¬ 
selves, - ' 
•‘1 am certain of it, madam,” answered Rafl'aelle, 
whose curiosity was now raised to the highest pitch. 
“But the time draws near. You are somewhat 
late,” continued the lady: “all the company are as¬ 
sembled in the drawing-room, Charles wrote to in¬ 
form us that lie had arranged everything with you. 
I can assure you we have neglected nothing. Ah! 1 
see you are in yourtraveling dress, and, in your haste 
have forgotten your luggage at Cokehampiun. You 
will find in that’ ward robe "some clothes of Charles’, 
He wrote to us that you were both of the same statute, 
—I see that you are a little taller-. However, that is 
not material. Pray attire yourself a? quickly as 
you can. In a quarter of an hour my brother, the 
Major, will come here for you. He will introduce 
you to the family and to our friends. Adieu, for the 
I present, then, my dear sir—I may almost say my dear 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 18 letters. 
My 5, 14, 4, 17, 13 is a county in Indiana. 
My 3. 10, 18,10, IS, 7.14 is a town in the Eastern States. 
My 11, 0, 9, 18, 3 is a river in New York. 
My 2. 14, 12, 13 is a cape on the coast of Newfoundland. 
My ft. 3 15, S, 16. 17. 18, 7. 9. 17 is a county in Ohio. 
My 1,14 2, C, 15 is a city in France. 
My 1, 3, 11, 14. 18. 9, 17, 16, 3 is a country in South America. 
My whole is u Bible command. 
Rochester, N. Y., 1SC1. T. C. 
Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
QUESTION FOR THE CURIOUS. 
How many consecutive hours each week is the Christian 
Sabbath observed by the inhabitants of the earth, commenc¬ 
ing at 12 o'clock on Saturday night, on the 180th° of east 
longitude, from London, and ending at 12 o’clock on Sunday 
night, on the 180th 6 of west Longitude, from the same place? 
An answer is requested, with the reasons for the same. 
Manchester, N. Y., 1861. D. 
For Moore s Rural New-Yerker. 
MECHANICAL PROBLEM. 
Tire head of a wedge iB 16 inches, and the length of one of 
its sides 48 inches. What will be the measure of the effect 
denoted by a force of 2,876 pounds? 
Gouverneur, N. Y, 1861. Edwin A. Dodds. 
Answer in two weeks. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Zachariah Chandler. 
Answer to Analytical Enigma:—Cross-cut-saw. 
Answer to Puzzle:—Get the best paper in the world 
Mooke’s Rural Nkw-Yorkek. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem:—72. 
MOORE’S RURAL KEW-YORKER, 
THK LARGEST CIRCULATED 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FA JULY WEEKLY, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Terras in Advance : 
Subscription — Two Dollars a Year. To Clubs and 
Agents as follows:—Three Copies one year, for $5; Six, and 
one free to club agent, for $19: Ten, and one free, for $15; 
Fifteen, and one free, fur $21 . Twenty, and Odc free, for $25: 
and any greater number at same rate —only $1.25 per copy,— 
with an extra free copy for every Ten Subscribers over Twenty. 
Club papers directed to individuals and sent to as many 
different Post-Offices as desired. As we pre-pay American 
postage on papers sent to the British Provinces, our Cana¬ 
dian agents and friends must add Vifi cents per copy to the 
club raws of the Rural. The lowest price of copies sent to 
Europe, &e., ia $2 60—including postage. 
