“ Why, I never iuonght of this before,” he said. “ I 
thought women's work wasn’t much, any way. But 
I see you’re right. According to your strength, yon 
have the hardest time. We work hard, hut then, as 
yon Bay, we’re stronger, and have more variety; and 
then at evening we rest I’m glad yon spoke so, Mrs. 
Brown. I’ll he more considerate toward the women. 
I’d advise yon to keep a hired girl, only they're such 
cross, vexing things.” 
“No, I don’t think so,” Mrs. Brown replied. 
“Hired girls are abused, too. They have the same 
troubles that I have, almost No wonder they com¬ 
plain sometimes, who have cause always. We ought 
to be sorry for them, and remember their troubles. 
And then, John can’t afford to keep a girl; I wouldn’t 
let him. No, there’s no way for me but to keep on 
working and worrying till I can’t do any more, and 
then they’ll lay me away where it's quiet and I shall 
rest. But-” and her eyes grew bright, “the 
children will grow up tall and strong, and if my life 
goes to nourish theirs, I suppose it’s all the same. 
And yet I wish sometimes my life had been a brighter 
one.” 
A rough hand fell on the woman's head, but its 
touch was gentle as her mother’s might have been; a 
firm, manly voice said, 
“ Your life shall be a bright one, Mary. God help 
me make it so." 
She turned quickly, exclaiming in her sad, sweet 
voice— 
“John, John!” 
reserved. Two or three opportunities of marriage 
she had, and had refused, though one of the suitors, 
Lawyer Graves, was very well-to-do and a rising man. 
Mother waB rather disappointed that Grace did not 
listen to him more kindly; and prophesied, as elderly 
people are apt to do on such occasions, that she 
would go through the woods and pick up a crooked 
stick at last. But even this fearful prospect did not 
move her to reconsider the decision. 
“Why wouldn’t you have him, child?” I said, one 
day when we were alone. " He la tolerably good- 
looking. tolerably gentlemanly, and would have made 
yon very comfortable.” 
“ I shall not marry any one on those grounds,” she 
answered. 
“They maybe very good grounds for all that. I 
wonder what you demand in a husband.” 
“Jn the first place,” said she, “I demand that I 
shall love him so much that I should he miserable 
without him.” 
“Why, Grace, I had no idea you were so 
sentimental.” 
“I intend to he always sentimental enough for 
that,” she maintained. “Don’t he impatient, Jenny; 
I am not. Wait ‘ for the hour and the man!’ ” 
“But suppose they never come?” I asked, a little 
ruefully. 
“Why, then, I make no doubt that we 8h all get 
along very comfortably without them,” she an¬ 
swered, laughing. And with this I was obliged to 
be content. [Conclusion next week.] 
hand over to accommodate us it was put in the bill. 
Then we must board a boy to do “the chores,” sad 
onr fuel must he cut and drawn and split: Grace and 
I could not go out in the woods and fell timber, how¬ 
ever much we might desire to. Every body seemed 
to think, too, that we were so wouderfuUy well off, 
and charged us full price, and a little over, for what 
they did for us. We found that it took nearly all onr 
ready money to pay necessary expenses. 
We managed in every way that we could think of. 
Sold our ashes and bought groceries and calico; 
saved all the hen-feathera and bits of rag and bought 
our tin therewith; used the smallest possible quan¬ 
tity of butter, milk, and eggs, and sold the rest; one 
winter we even did entirely without apples, and made 
sale of the whole produce of our orchard. All this 
helped, of course, hut it did not make matters 
straight. Then the house needed paint, and the roof 
leaked, and a hundred little matters called for repair; 
while within, though we were careful as could he, the 
wood-work grew shabby and the wall-paper smoky 
and faded. 
“We have tried what saving money will do,” I 
said; “now we must set at work and make some.” 
But how? waB the question. There was very little 
demand for plain sewing, and people who made it 
their business complained that they had not half 
enough to do. Grace might have been Female Prin¬ 
cipal at the Academy — she knew twice as much as a 
good many that did fill that position; hut she was 
born and bred in Arlington, and a prophet, you 
know, never has honor in bis own country. People 
would not have thought that Grace Maltby, whom 
they had known from her Cradle, and who had never 
been at a hoarding-school in her life, could possibly 
teach their children “the higher branches.” But 
there was the common school, and she got one in our 
neighborhood ; they paid twenty shillings a week and 
hoard, or four dollars and let her hoard herself. She 
chose the latter, of course, and walked the three 
miles a day very contentedly, looking to her golden 
gains. The money was paid at the end of the sea¬ 
son, and it certainly came in as. a great convenience; 
but, dear me! it did not do half that it seemed we 
must have done. The place, somehow, swallowed up 
all that we could get outside of it. 
Wo thought of buying a number of cows and try¬ 
ing a large dairy, since butter and cheese were then 
selling at a high price; but mother would not hear a 
word of it. There was no capital for the outlay, and 
she had a mortal horror of debt. As for raising the 
money by a mortgage on onr place, she would as 
soon have engaged to suffer from cancer for a term of 
years. We were a good deal disappointed, but per¬ 
haps it was best after all; we should have been 
obliged to pay so much for indispensable assistance 
that our profits might have been lost in our expenses. 
It was about this time that we began to realize, and, 
as 1 said, sadly realize, that we were getting oldish, 
and had lived our best days. Before this I had 
always been hopeful, though without HDy particular 
reason for being so; had thought that somehow it 
would all come right in the end. Now I discerned 
the true state of matters — that we had passed our 
prime, and that, pecuniarily, things must grow worse 
with us from year to year. Mother never would incur 
expense unless she had the means of meeting it at 
once; the land would yield us less and less return as 
it became poorer from want of care; we must live 
closer and closer, onr property depreciating all the 
time, and end up—liow? The prospect was not a 
cheerful one; we lmd practiced a pinching economy 
for a long time, and it was hard to think that no 
improvement was possible; that all the i-bauge 
must be the other way. 
I did not mind it so much for myself. I should 
have liked as well aB any body to have a light, pretty 
paper on our sitting-room; to take a magazine, and 
have plenty of books; to use Java or Mocha coffee 
instead of liio, and white sugar in place of brown. I 
liked to see uapkiuB on a table, and preferred silver 
forks to steel. But it was not for my owu sake half 
as much as Grace's that I minded these things. You 
may think it strange that 1 do not speak of mother’s 
comfort; hut if you had known her, you would have 
understood it all. She had a supreme contempt for 
dainties; I believe she would have lived the year 
round oil “Johnny-cake” and milk, and liked the 
fare. As for dress, her simplicity was Spartan. She 
took the old gowns which we had worn to the last 
verge of endurance and made over for herself; three 
breadths or four in a calico dress — it was all the 
same to her. Several good suits of clothing she 
indeed possessed, but these she obstinately refused to 
wear except on state occasions — Thanksgiving din- 
i ners, or a visit to some neighbor. Yet such is the 
force of native comeliness, that Bbe was as nice look¬ 
ing an old lady as you will often see, spite of her 
scant attire. I don’t know what ample meaus could 
have done for mother, since, like the Apostle. Bbe 
“ had all things and abounded” as it was. Our furni¬ 
ture Bhe considered as more than good enough; our 
mode of life as comprising not only comfort hut 
luxury; and as for the three-breadth calicoes, she 
never made them over without some remark on 
our extravagance in thowing away such serviceable 
garments. 
At eighteen Grace was the prettiest girl, it seems to 
me, that my eyes ever encountered; and she had not 
lost much at the time of which 1 write. 'Such a 
sweet smile, such a clear bloom, such delicate and 
graceful features; small hands and feet, and a throat 
I had always fancied that she 
Tug AOantir Monthly ha* published many line lyrics, Imt 
we do not remember any nobler burnt of song since the great 
national crisis began than this solemn chant which we find 
in the forthcoming September number. It is worthy to be 
remembered with the stormy days through which the Re¬ 
public is now panning. Once read it cannot be forgotten: 
“ UNDER THE CLOUD AND THROUGH T BE SEA.” 
So moved they, when false Pharaoh’s legion pressed, 
Chariots and horsemen following furiously,— 
Sons of old Israel, at their God's behest, 
Under the cloud and through the swelling sea. 
So passed they, fearless, where the parted wave, 
With cloven crest nprearlng from the sand,— 
A solemn aisle before,—behind, a grave,— 
Rolled to the beckoning of Jehovah’s hand. 
So led He them, in desert marches grand, 
By toils sublime, with test of long delay, 
On to the borders of that Promised hand, 
Wherein their heritage of glory lay. 
And Jordan raged along his rocky bed, 
And Amorite spears hashed keen and fearfully; 
Still the same pathway must their footsteps tread,— 
Under the cloud and through the threatening sea. 
God works no otherwise. No mighty birth 
But come* hy throe* of mortal agony; 
No man-child among nation* of the earth 
But flndctb baptism in a stormy sea. 
Sens of the Bainta who faced their Jordan-flood 
In fierce Atlantic's unretreating wave,— 
Who by the Red Sea of their glorious blood 
Reached to the Freedom that your blood shall save! 
O, Countrymenl God’s day is not yet done! 
He leaveth not His people utterly! 
Count it a covenant, that He leads us on 
Beneath the Cloud and through the crimson Seal 
As the season for Trade is again at hand, we would remind 
those who wish to do Business the present Autumn and 
Fall, that the Rural New-Yorker possesses extraordinary 
advantage? as an Advertising Medium, its actual circulation 
exceeding by at least 20.000 that of any other paper published 
in this State or section of the Union (out of New York city.) 
In addition to its immense circulation among the best 
portion of the Rural Population, (more particularly in New 
York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Illinois, Wis¬ 
consin, &c.,) it is taken by thousands of Business and Pro¬ 
fessional Men in Villages and Cities from Canada to Califor¬ 
nia, and Maine to Minnesota. Hence, it is the medium 
through which to reach, at once. Tens ot Thousands 
of the most enterprising, progressive and wealthy Farmers, 
Horticulturists, &c., and hosts of Merchants, Mechanics, 
Manufacturers and Professional Men. Its pages are unques¬ 
tionably the beet and cheapest channel on this Continent 
for the Business Cards and Announcement* of all who wish 
to address the Agricultural and Horticultural t ub- 
lic,— such as Dealer* in Implements and Machinery. -Fruit 
Trees, Shrubs, Plants and Flowers,—Seeds and Fertilizers,— 
Improved Stock, Real Estate, Ac., —as well as for leading 
Publishers and Booksellers, (especially of standard and 
practical works,) Wholesale Dealers, Manufacturers, Educa¬ 
tional Institutions, Land, Insurance and other Companies, 
and indeed for all who wish to secure large 
Agencies, Ac.; 
and wide, and hence profitable publicity, The fact that but 
limited space is devoted to Advertising, and that a rigid cen¬ 
sorship is exercised over that department (our aim being to 
keen the wools paper free from quackery, humbug and 
deception,; renders the Rural far more valuable a* a me¬ 
dium of making known matters of value anu utility—for its 
announcements are generally so new and of such character 
as to be read and heeded by all interested. 
(From the Northwestern Christian Advocate. J 
Mrs. Brown Discourseth of a Matter. 
” Btiid Mrs. Brown 
“A woman’s work is never done, 
as slie brought a cliair from the rank and file against 
the wall, and offered it to her neighbor, Mr, Jones. 
In performing this hospitable action, Mrs. Brown 
called the ghost of a smile to her face, and in the 
cam-worn features could be seen signs of beauty and 
sweetness that time and trouble were stealing from 
her. She resinned her seat, and while rocking the 
cradle, wearily proceeded to pare, quarter and core 
the apples in the pan beside her, while she discoursed 
in this wise to the strong, hearty-looking farmer who 
sat opposite: 
“No, John isn’t in, Mr. Jones. He’s gone to the 
village to hear about secession— something or other. 
I can’t keep track of it, I’m so hurried and tried — 
‘Tugged with fortune and wearied with disaster,’ as 
my mother used to say.” 
“You mean to say you aint any patriotism; don’t 
care what them rascally fire-eaters do, any how, I 
suppose; little odds to you whether Major Anderson 
holds out or not.” Mr. Jones said this in a wonder¬ 
ing, good-natured way. 
“Now, look here, neighbor,” and into Mrs. 
Brown’s pale cheek a faint crimson crept and wavered 
uncertainly, then stationed itself in the unaccustomed 
place. “ Look here, neighbor, you know that hen of 
ours — the speckled one, that’s so famous for raising 
chickens? You know how she worries over ’em, and 
clucks and scratches and watches for ’em, and gets 
poor and fretted like, so she’s nothing at last but a 
bnndle of bones and feathers — but the chickens 
come through all right — fat and plump and bright- 
eyed. You know old Fuss — that’s the name John 
never minds what she eats, or how heavy 
The Courier has a half eolnmn of stupid squibs 
npon the battle of Manassas. If the United States 
colnmns in that battle had been a thousandth part as 
feeble as the Courier's half column, they would have 
run three, hours sooner than they did. 
A secession editor who stole about ten thousand 
dollars under the Buchanan administration, says that 
the peculations under that administration were tri¬ 
fling. He is evidently dissatisfied that his own share 
wasn’t greater. 
Gov. Wise writes to Lyncbborg that upon certain 
points his mind isn’t made up. One would think 
from its being so badly tumbled, that it hadn’t been 
made up for a year. 
The Richmond Enquirer says that “the Southern 
Confederacy has won the stake.” The Southern Con¬ 
federacy may he impaled upon the stake it has won. 
GRACE AND I. 
'Abucrtiscmcnts 
We were getting on the downhill of life, and 
beginning to be—a little sadly—conscious of the 
fact Are people ever thoroughly reconciled to 
growing old, I wonder? Or do they feel, at best, 
only a kind of forced resignation? In my young 
days I supposed, as a matter of course, that the spirit 
and the body matured and declined together, and 
that all the middle-aged and elderly people around 
me had minds perfectly attuned to their time of life; 
they looked forty, fifty, and sixty, and felt just so. I 
had not beard then of the poor old lady, who, 
beholding in the glass her wrinkled face, exclaimed, 
“It’s none o’ me! It’s none o’ me!” Aud if 1 had, 
should have regarded her as a very weak sort of 
individual. I have learned to sympathize with her 
in later years. 
Grace and I had not gone quite so far, wrinkles 
and gray hairs were not very evident with us as yet, 
though they might be soon. An aunt, who had 
recently visited at our house, informed ns that we 
were now “ in the vigor of middle life,” and we had 
felt considerably insulted by the statement, and asked 
each other, in a private “indignation meeting” on 
the subject, in what remote corner of second child¬ 
hood the good lady put herself. •• Middle life” 
indeed! Why it seemed no more than yesterday that 
we were children, and quite too young to “go with 
the big girls.” The remark set us thinking, however, 
and we found we were further along than we had 
imagined; not so old, to be sure, as Socrates when 
he learned to dance, or even as Cowper when he 
began to write poetry, but no longer very youthful. 
Net to make any foolish mystery about it, I was 
twenty-nine, and Grace just two years less ex¬ 
perienced. 
Heretofore we had felt ourselves young as any 
body; had thought and spoken of ourselves as 
“girls” without the least suspicion that the term 
could be considered misapplied. But, as 1 said, Aunt 
Mercy’s remark set us thinking, and 1 realized that 
next year 1 should be thirty! An unmarried female 
of thirty! I shivered as I remembered the vernacular 
for such a person. Not that there was any disgrace 
in being an “old maid;” I had long looked calmly 
forward to the probability of such a destiny. But to 
find that I had actually got there —and without 
knowing it! 
After this for several days I kept a keen lookout 
for signs of age and failure. 
“ How hard my hands are growing!” I said, one 
morning. “Do yon think, Grace, that it can he 
because I am so thin lately?” 
“ Very likely,” she answered. “You could not rea¬ 
sonably expect good healthy bone to be soft. Console 
yourself, though, Jen, for mine arc in the same state. 
At our age we can’t hope to retain the tender palm 
of yonth.” 
“ Nonsense—your hands are soft as ever they were. 
Bnt do you see any sign of a ‘silver dawn’ in my 
hair? Or traces of the crow’s-foot round my eyes? 
Mind you tell me truly the first symptom that appears. 
Maria Theresa wished to meet her death awake: and 
I want to meet my age and its disfigurements with a 
full consciousness of them, and not go on flattering 
myself that I am ‘quite young’ or ‘young enough’ 
to the very verge of my three score and ten.” Grace 
promised faithfully to keep me posted. 
There was one person who still considered ns as in 
the “dew of our youth”—it was mother. Though 
we had gradually superseded her in every department 
of household labor, she regarded us as novices, liable 
to blunder at every step, and needing a world of 
Personal 
iV IXT ARTIFICIAL LEG 
Invented by Douglas Bly. M. D 
By frequent dissections, the Doctor succeeded in 
embodying the principles of the natural leg in an 
artificial one, and by so doing produced one of the 
most complete and successful inventions ever attain¬ 
ed by man. 
A pamphlet containing full description and illus¬ 
trations can be had without charge, by addressing 
DOUGLAS BLY, M. D., Rochester, N. Y. 
See the annexed cut, and also letter from H. J. 
Drake: 
&) Fic 13. 
Home Authority.—A traveler stopped at a farm 
house for the purpose of getting dinner. Dismount¬ 
ing at the front door he knocked, bnt received no 
answer. Going to the other side of the house, he 
found a wnite headed roan in the embrace of his 
wife, who had his head under her arm, while with 
the other she was giving her little lord a pounding. 
Wishing to put an end to the fight, onr traveler 
knocked on the side of the house, and cried out in a 
loud voice, " Hallo, here, who keeps this house?” 
The husband, though much out of breath, answered, 
“Stranger, that’s what we are trying to decide!” 
gave her 
the rain pelts down upon her, and isn’t afraid of any¬ 
thing, for the chickens’sake. Well, somehow I think 
I’m like Hie poor old hen.” Mrs. Brown dropped 
her knife and bent over the cradle a moment. Farmer 
Jones didn’t notice the tear that fell on the baby's 
cheek. “ You see, neighbor,” the woman went on, 
“when my heart and hands are full of thoughts and 
work for John and the children — of how I can man¬ 
age to save here, and get along without this, and 
make that last beyond all reason — I don’t have much 
time left to think about these politics, or anything 
beyond this room we live 5d. But I used to have 
thoughts outside of this, about the countries away 
over the sea”—and the woman’s eyes bad a far-off, 
mournful look in them, “ In geography, I remember 
how I liked to learn about ’em, and then 1 thought 
maybe I'd see all those beautiful things some day; you 
know girls have their fancies. ButT’ve given all that 
up. ’Tisn’t easy to go ' wool-gathering’ when I see 
bub’s toes coming out Of his stockings, and John’s 
mittens needing a patch. I’m afraid you men don’t 
make hardly allowance enough for us, always. We’re 
not so strong as yon, aud then our work is different. 
You are out in the fresh air and sunshine, but we stay 
in the house and don’t have much change. You go 
to market, and haul wood and straw, and meet your 
neighbors and have a pleasant word with them, but 
we see the same thingB day after day, and get lone- 
Bome sometimes, and wonder why we were put into 
such kind of lives as these. Then it’s trying to a wo¬ 
man's nerves — the kind of work she has to do. 
’Tisn’t like plowing and sowing and driving horses; 
that’s heavy work, to be sure, but then you’re strong 
to do it. But we have such particular, careful work. 
Now, there js bread-making — you don't know how 
much worry there is about it You must take so 
much into the accouut, the kind of flour, the kind of 
wood yon have to make yonr fire, the yeast; all these 
are changing, and you must make allowances for this. 
You roust let the bread rise just so much, and fix the 
dampers jnst right, and handle it so careful. Why, 
Dr. I)-told me that it’s like managing chemicals; 
and he said men that had to work with chemicals were 
t e most nervous kind, because they were always so 
full of thoughts aud care. Then, there’s preserves 
and nickles, aDd cakes and coffee. Yon don’t know 
THE DOUBLE DEARTH—AN KriGRAM. 
Our Southern neighbors roundly swear 
They’ll have “no Yankee teachers” there; 
Now hy the rood, if that's the case, 
God help the helpless .Southern race.' 
With Western harvests all shut out, 
And norlhern teachers put to rout, 
How the poor fools will starve and stammer, 
In double dearth—of grub aud grammar! 
Dr. Bi.y — Dear Eir The artificial leg you made 
for me serves me better than I ever supposed any 
artificial leg could. 
1 have mowed my grass myself —and that, too, on 
the marsh, where it is very boggy. 1 have cradled 
my oats mvsclf and raked and bound them; and ! 
have been jilt around the neighborhood threshing. 
In fact I can do most all kinds of work. 
The side motion at the ankle-joint la worth every¬ 
thing. If 1 step on a stick or a stone, or on any 
uneven place, the ankle yields just enough to let the 
foot accommodate itself to it, and thereby prevents 
all stumbling or inconvenience. 
Most sincerely and thankfully yours, 
H. J. DRAKE. 
Chelsen, Mich., Angn6tl5, 18(11. 
A Young fop, about starting down to New Orleans, 
proposed to purchase a life preserver. “ Oh, you’ll 
not want it,” suggested the clerk; “bags of wind 
don’t sink.” 
A quack doctor advertises to this effect:—“Con¬ 
sumptives, cough while you can; for, after yon have 
taken one bottle of my mixture, you can’t.” 
II owe & Rogers, 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
miscellaneous ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 42 letters. 
My 24, 31, 16. 2, 27. 6 is used in traveling. 
M\ 17, 32, 12. 11, 84, 18, 27 is what ladies are fond of. 
My 10, 8, 33, 16. 28, 19 is a girl’s name. 
My 1, 21, 27. 2, 39 is a favorite study of mine. 
My 30 20, 13. 24, 25. 33, 36, 3, 14 is a town in New York. 
My 39. 40, 4, 6. 27. 21, 27 is a lake in New York. 
My 29, 11. 19, 9, 10, 30 is a number. 
My 24, 6, 40,16, 34, 10 is a color. 
My 22, 12, 21, 41 is found in grammar. 
My 6, 42 34 is a part of the human body. 
My 6.37, 19, 7. 38 is what we ought not to have. 
My 20,15, 22, 23, 25, 32 is a hoy’s name. 
Jly whole is the address of one of the Rcral’s contributors. 
East Grovelaud, Liv. Co., N. Y. E. C. Marshall. 
Answer jn two weeks. 
The largest Retail Carpet Ware-Rooms in the United 
States, where can he found at all times the most 
Complete Assortment, 
Comprising the best and most approved makes, this and 
Foreign Markets afford. Persons about to furnish anew, or 
even one carpet, will find it to their advantage to look at our 
Mammoth Stock 
We import and purchase direct from the 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
CHARADE. 
Which enables ns to 
white as swan’s-down, 
would marry well; some stranger — for no one in the 
place was good enough for her. Some tall, dark, 
handsome man, who would carry her away and give 
her all the luxuries aud lady-like belongings that 
were so suited to her. Meanwhile mother and I 
would live on just as we were, and Grace and the 
children come to visit us every summer. 
1 was a pretty 
For spreading knowledge and holding brutes, 
My first is used in this world's pursuits; 
But few are the tables set with grace 
Whereon iny second has not a place; 
Yet figures less at the good repast, 
In consequence of my third and last. 
My whole the name of a solemn feast 
In high repute with the Jewish priest. 
Burns, N. Y., 1861. A. H. Bullock, 
J3p” Answer in two weeks. 
596-eow 
As ant house in this Country ! 
JJ, B.— Churcliee furnished at ManfneCurere’ Prices 
directions about the simplest matter, 
supervision she had renounced; but from her rook- j 
ing-ebair hy the fireside, where she sewed or knitted 
or read the long duy through, issued frequent com¬ 
mands and admonitions. “Time to put on the 
potatoes, Grace—and be sure that they're washed 
clean." “Don’t forget the emptins when you mix np 
those biscuit.” “And did you heat the eggs, Janet, 
before you put them in the cake? I ought to stand 
over you every thing yon do, you’re such heedless 
children!” Grace and I laughed, and agreed with 
each other that it was pleasant to seem young to 
somebody. 
Mother was a widow, and we were poor. By that 
Tdon't mean wretchedly poor, bnt that we lived with 
great plainness, and were just able by so doing to 
make both ends meet. Father's health had failed, 
and he was not able to do much for some years before 
he died. He had made out to keep the place for us 
unincumbered, hut that was all. There were fifty 
acres and a tolerably-sized house, two or three cows, 
a pig, and so on. Y’on would think we could have 
got along nicely, bnt somehow we didn’t; perhaps 
we did not manage well, bnt I’m sure we were never 
extravagant. A neighbor took our land on shares, 
bnt he wanted bo much allowance made for his team 
and the seed he furnished that it cut terribly into onr 
profits. Then we must keep up the fences and pay 
for every improvement; and if he only turned his 
H ICKOK’S patent portable 
KEYSTONE CIDER AND WINE MILL 
This admirable machine U vow ready for',4he tru' 1 
1861 It is, if possible, made better than ever before. ^ 
worthy the atteution of farmer- wanting Bach Martin 
It his no superior in the market and is Ihe onlua? 
will properly grind Grapes. Price. W- * or 
themauufacturcr ^ Pa. 
She was very different from ine. 
good scholar in my day; hut Grace went far ahead of 
me in every thing, and she was always learning 
something, even now. For my part, when work was 
done, I could find things to do that pleased me better 
than plodding over German, or vexing my soul with 
problems in trigonometry. I liked to read pretty 
well, novels and poetry, or the newspapers, but she 
delighted in Shelley and Keats, aud such writers, 
whom it would kill me to read a page of, and went 
into scientific worka and history, and metaphysics. 
I admired jt all very much in her, though I could 
never have done it myself. Then she had such a 
pretty taste in dress, and always looked nice, though 
her clothes cost almost nothing. She loved flowers, 
and bad a perfect passion for books and pictures. It 
was no wonder that T was always hoping the future 
would arrange itself so that she would have means to 
indulge her tastes, and lead altogether a more refined 
and congenial life than had yet been possible to her. 
Y”ou may think that being so pretty and intelligent 
Bhe would have -plenty of eligible offers. Well, thine 
were not many young men left in our place; most a f 
them had gone to seek their fortune in the West, or 
in distant cities; and Grace was very quiet and 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
agricultural, literary and family weekly, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
auy assistance. Finding that he did not speak, she 
continued— 
“And so yon see, with all these things, I don’t 
think much about what's going on outside, that you 
and John talk about, though I often wish I coaid. 
And I think, somehow, I’m like oar old hen I spoke 
of, for I don’t mind much about myself. I see that 
I’m getting to stoop more every year, and there are 
gray hairs here on my temples, though I'm not thirty 
yet. The wrinkles are so plain, too, on my forehead. 
I am sony; John thought I was so pretty, years ago. 
I remember how straight and slim I used to he, and I 
had nice brown hair and red cheeks. Dear me! there 
hasn’t been a bit of color in them for years. John is 
always good and kind, but he don’t know how wor¬ 
ried I gel, most every day, and when I speak short 
and fretful sometimes, he looks surprised and says, 
‘ What! Mary, is it you speaking in such a voice as 
that?’ ” 
Mr. Jones looked np in a wondering kind of way. 
A LOAF of bread, being in the form of a hemisphere, is 
baked until it is one-fourth crust. What is the thickness of 
the crust when the diameter of the loaf is twelve inches, 
allowing the hulk to remain constant? 
Spring Arbor, Jackson Co., Mich., 1861. H. F. Beam. 
Answer in two weeks. 
