- 5. 
EE’S EOTM* 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
“COMING HOME.” 
i 
I 
BY KMMA CHAPIN. 
Are they coming ? Tell -oh 1 tell me! 
Are our brave boys coming home ? 
Shall wc soon in rapture greet them ? 
Are they truly Tree to come ? 
Are their weary marches ended ? 
Is their lonely exile o’er? 
Will their browned and radiant faces 
Brighten lonely homee once more V 
Tell me 1 Is the struggle over ? 
Is the last proud victory won ? 
Is the booming cannon silenced? 
Are the traitorous Toes ondone ? 
Is the sword now ehpathed forever? 
Is our banner waving bright 
Over all our glorious country ? 
Are we saved from sorrow's night ? 
Aye 1 they tell me they (in) coming I 
From the gory battle-field, 
They’re returning to our hearthstones, 
Nevermore the sword to wield. 
They are coming 1 Hark— I hear them ! 
Hear the hurrying tramp of feet, 
See their noble radiant faces, 
Eager for the loved to greet. 
They are coming—surely coming! 
Hear the echoing martial tread. 
They're returning from the Southland, 
But they leave behind our dead 1 
They are coming from the conflict, 
Proudly wearing battle scars. 
They are bringing home our banner, 
Bringing back the Stripes and Stars. 
See how proudly It is waving, 
Battle-smoked though it may be, 
Never a more glorious banner 
Floated over laud or sea. 
Yes, I see them—they are coming, 
Coming from the Held and camp ; 
All t aud many, wan and dying, 
Come from out the prisons damp. 
Yes—they’re coining —some are coming: 
Others we shall see no more, 
Till these transient glories faded— 
These life-battles, all are o’er. 
But they see victorious comrades 
Leaving now the vanquished foe, 
And rejoice with songs of gladness, 
Songs that only angels know. 
They are coming! Yes! they're coming 1 
Soon they'll mingle with us here l 
List! the joyful ahouts of triumph— 
As they hear our welcoming cheer ! 
Welcome—welcome I gallant soldiers! 
Welcome I brothers brave aud true! 
Long we’ve waited for your coming; 
Wd have greetings glad for you! 
Scottsville, N. Y. 
you ! 
®dte. 
THE SAMNITE MARRIAGES. 
Translated from the Frencli for the Rural New-Yorker. 
BY O. 0. B. 
Let every Legislator who wishes to enhance 
his knowledge and experience of the best means 
of governing the hearts of men, begin by arrang¬ 
ing the women on the side of the laws and 
customs. Let him put virtue and glory under 
the guardianship of Beauty, and under the 
tutelage of Love; for without this accordance 
he can be sure of nothing. 
Such was the eblefest political principle ol 
Satnnia, that warlike Republic which for many 
years was the rival of Rome, and even caused 
her to pass under the yoke of subjugation. That 
which rendered the Samnlte ft warrior, a patriot, 
and a man virtuous against all temptations, was 
the care taken to make woman’s love the great 
prize of all these good qualities. 
Every year the Ceremony ot the Marriages 
was celebrated in a vast inclosure erected for 
military purposes. All the young people of the 
Republic, who had reached that ago when for 
the better interests of the country they should 
be married, were assembled on this solemn day 
and the young men chose their wives, in turn 
according to the rank and precedence which 
their virtues and exploits had given them 
the records of their country. It can easily be 
conceived bow much strength was given to 
those virtues upon which all their success dc 
pended, by pride and love, those two great 
moviug sprluga of human passion, and what 
triumph it must have been for those who had 
the glory to be chosen by the vanquishers. 
Every year the Ceremony of the Marriages was 
looked forward to with timid impatience. Until 
then the young Samnite sons and daughters never 
saw each other except at the Temple, under the 
eyes of mothers and prudent old men, aud 
always with a modesty equally inviolable for both 
sexes. But, in truth, this austere constraint 
could not reach their wishes and desires, for their 
eyes aud hearts were wont to make their choices. 
It was a sacred duty, however, for the children 
never to reveal their Inclinations except to the 
authors of their days,— to divulge them else¬ 
where was considered a family shame. Through 
this Intimate confidence of the sentiments dear¬ 
est to their souls, this tender expansion of their 
desires, their regrets, their hopes and fears, 
which was only permitted them in the cherished 
bosom of nature, the fathers and mothers be¬ 
came, also, the friends, consolers and sup¬ 
porters of their children. The glory of some, 
and the happiness of others, joined all the mem¬ 
bers of a family by the most lively interests of 
the hurnau heart. And this association, or com¬ 
monalty, of pleasure and of pain, cemented by 
habit and consecrated by duty, was perpetuated 
to the tomb. If want o( success destroyed the 
hopes of a youug warrior, he abandoned the 
more readily an object of affection for which his 
inclination hud never been manifested, especially 
as it was vain to pursue it, the laws compelling him 
to make auother choice; for only by becoming 
a married man could he become a citizen. The 
lawgivers had very wisely concluded that he who 
would have no wife of bis own, counted some¬ 
what upou those of others; and in making a 
crime of adultery they made marriage a duty. 
It was, therefore, necessary for every one who 
had reached the proper" age designated by the 
laws to present himself at thenasemblyand make 
choice of a wife according to bis rank even 
though it were not according to his desire. 
Among warlike nations, beauty even in the 
feebler sex, has something of pride and nobility 
in it which always shews Itself in their customs. 
The chase was the most familiar amusement of 
the Samnite maidens. Their skill with the bow 
and their lightness upou the course, were talents 
which are now unknown among us. These ex¬ 
ercises gave a marvelous suppleness to their 
forms, and to their action a liberty full of grace. 
Without their arms modesty was always painted 
on their foreheads, but when they had once fas¬ 
tened on tlieir quivers, their heads were raised 
with warlike assurance, and courage sparkled in 
their eyes. The beauty of the men had a ma¬ 
jestic and sombre character, and the image of 
combats, ever present, gave to their looks a 
grave pride which was imposing and ferocious. 
Among these warlike youth=, distinguished 
by the delicacy of his features and his air of ten¬ 
derness and sensibility, was the son of the brave 
Telespon — one of the old Samnites who had 
fought best for liberty. This old man, when 
delivering his well-tried arms into the hands of 
the younger one, had said : 
“My son, our old men, the miserable jesters, 
have sometimes said to me that. I ought to dress 
you as a w^man, aud that you would make a 
beautiful huntress. These railleries afflict your 
father, but be consoles himself with the idea 
that Nature will never have occasion to despise 
the heart she has given you.” 
“Re-assure yourself, my father” said the 
young man, piqued with emulation, “these old 
men will be very anxions some day, perhaps, 
that their children should follow my example; 
and that they take me here for a girl is a matter 
of little moment to me, for the Romans will 
never make such a mistake.” 
Agatis kept Ilia word to his father and shewed 
in his first campaigns ft degree of ardor and of 
intrepidity which changed all the railleries into 
eulogiurns. His companions said to each other 
astonishment: — “ Who would believe that 
this effeminate body was tilted with such manly 
courage ? Cold, hunger, fatigue, nothing over 
comes him; hut, with his modest and touching 
air, he braves death with the best of us.” 
One day when Aoatis, in presence of the 
enemy, was coolly looking at a shower of arrows 
which were falling around him, one of his com¬ 
panions, who was remarkable for his homeliness, 
cried out to him : 
“ How is it that you who are so handsome can 
be so brave ? ” 
Just then the signal for attack was given. 
“ And you who are so homely.” responded 
Aoatis, “let’s see which of us will take th 
standard of the battalion we are about to charge.” 
No sooner said than both sprang forward, and 
in the midst of the carnage Aoatis soon re-ap¬ 
peared with the standard in his hand. 
In the meantime he approached the age when 
he must be numbered among the husbands, and 
by the quality of lather obtain that of citizen 
The young maidens who heard his valor spoken 
of with 60 much esteem, and who looked upou 
hifi beauty with a sweet emotion, envied each 
other his regards. One alone came at last to 
attract them —it was the beautiful Cephalide. 
Modesty and pride, those noble and touching 
graces which characterized the Samnite beauties 
were re-united in her to the highest degree, 
The laws, os has been stated, could not forbid 
the eyes to speak; and the eyes of love arc very 
eloquent when there is no other language. If 
you have ever seen lovers under the constraint 
of a severe observer, you must have admired the 
rapidity with which a whole soul can be devel¬ 
oped In a single glance. A look from Aoatis 
declared to her all his tronble, his desires, his 
fears and hopes, aud the emulation of virtue and 
glory with which love had come to influence his 
heart. Cephalide Bcemed to have forbidden 
her eyes to meet those of Aoatis, but they were 
sometimes a little slow to obey, and would not 
lower themselves uutll they bad obtained their 
response. Cue day above all — and it was that 
which decided the triumph of her lover — after 
having held her eyes fixed upon him for some 
time, she raised them to heaven with an expres¬ 
sion of the most tender character. 
“Ah ! I understand this wish,” said the young 
man within himself; “ 1 understand it aud 1 will 
accomplish it. Charming girl, am I not but too 
much flattered ? Your eyes raised to heaven, do 
they not demand of me to render myself worthy 
of choosing thee? Ah, yes! and heaven has 
listened to thee; 1 feel it iu the movements of 
my soul. But, alas! all my rivals —and they 
will be numberless — will dispute this glory 
with me. An action of eel at depends upou cir¬ 
cumstances, and another more fortunate than 
myself may seize the lucky moment and so win 
the honor of the first choice — and the first 
choice, beautiful Cepualide, canuot fail to fall 
on you.” 
These ideas occupied him, as well as his beau¬ 
tiful mistress, without cessation. 
“if Aoatis has the choice,” said she, “I dare 
to believe he will name me; for I have uarrowly 
observed him aud read well into the depths of 
his soul. Whenever he presents himself to my 
companions, or addresses a word to them, he 
has uot that complaisance, that sweet empresse- 
ment , which he exhibits iu seeing me. I per¬ 
ceive that his voice, though naturally sweet aud 
tender, has something still more tender iu it 
when he speaks to me. His eyes above all- 
ob ! bis eyes have told me what they have said 
to no one else; aud may it please the gods that 
he alone shall distinguish me from the crowd. 
Yes, my dear Aoatis, it would be a misfortune 
to be beautiful for another than thee. Who can 
compare with him among this jeune- w who 
frighten me while seeking me with their eyes! 
This murderous air terrifies me. Aoatis is 
valiant but not ferocious; even under arms one 
sees in him je ne sain qptoi d' attendrissant. He 
will do prodigies of valor I am sure ; but if, at 
last, fortune should betray love and another 
have the advantage of choice — oh! the thought 
freezes me with affright.'' 
Cephaxide did not dissimulate her alarms 
before her mother. 
Make your vows,” said she, “for the glory 
of Aoatis aud you will make them for the 
glory of your daughter. I believe—I am sure he 
loves me, and why may I not adore him ? You 
know he has the esteem of our old men, and he 
is the idol of all my companions. I see their 
agitation, their emotion, and their blushes at 
lus approaeli; a word from his mouth fills them 
with pride. 
"Eh Men 1 " said the mother, smilingly; “if 
he loves you he will choose you.” 
“ No doubt he would choose me if he had the 
right of choice, but my mother 
“But, my daughter, he will uave his turn.” 
“His turn—alas! will it be iu good time,” 
replied Cepualide, lowering her eyes. 
Why, my daughter, it would seem to hear 
you talk, that, it was all a question of possessing 
But the wise old warrior at their head, heard 
them without being moved. By his slowness 
and delays he promised bimself two things; the 
oue, to persuade the enemy that he was feeble 
or timid, and in this confidence to induce them 
to attack him imprudently, aud the other, to 
leave the impatience of his warriors to increase, 
and to carry their ardor to excess before risking 
a battle. Both succeeded. The Roman General 
harrangued his troops, and showed them the 
Samnites wavering and ready to fly before them. 
“The genius of Rome overawes them,” said 
he. “They tremble aud cannot sustain our ap¬ 
proach. Come on! then, brave Romans, and if* 
we have not the advantage of position, valor 
will supply Its place. The day is ou^—let us 
march!” 
“There they come, at last,” said the Samnite 
General to his young impatienta; “have them 
to approach within bow-shot, and then you shall 
have full liberty to merit your future wives.” 
The Romans advanced, while the Samnites 
awaited them with firmly planted feet, 
“Upon them!” cried the Roman General. 
A body at rest cannot withstand the impetuous 
force of another which is hurled against it.”— 
[To be continued. 
ffif life 
For Moore’s Boral New-Yorker. 
^ILLUSTRATED REBUS. 
HOW TO BE INDEPENDENT. 
you flatter yourself a little lightly, indeed.” 
I do not flatter myself; I tremble. How 
happy would I be could T never please another 
than him I shall love forever.” 
Agatis, on bis side, when on the eve of enter¬ 
ing the campaign, said to his father in embrac¬ 
ing him:—“Adieu! dear author of my life; 
either you look upon me for the last time, or 
you will see me again the most glorious of all 
the sons ot Sanmia.” 
‘That’s well said, my child; snch is the way 
a well-horn son should take leave of his father. 
Truly, I see you auimated by an ardor which 
astonishes me. What favorable Gods inspire 
thee?” 
“ Nature aud Love. The desire to imitate 
you and to merit Cepeulide.’ 
“Oh! I see, love is mingled in eh? Well, 
there’s nothing amiss in that. Eh! tell me 
something about it. it seems to me I have 
noticed your Cephalide sometime among her 
eompauious.” 
“Yes, my father, one can easily distinguish 
her.” 
“But, my boy, do you know she is very beau¬ 
tiful ?” 
1 Beautiful! beautiful as glory itself.” 
‘ I believe I can recall her to my recollection,” 
continued the old man, who enjoyed animating 
him; “let me see, I think she has the figure of 
a Nymph ?” 
Ah! my father,” cried Agatis, “ you honor 
the Nymphs too much.” 
“Alight step ?” 
“ And more noble still.” 
“A fresh complexion?” , • 
“ It is thi- rose its* ' aft . 
“Long hair, shadedif.acefully ?” 
“ And her eyes, my lather, and her eyes. Oh! 
you should have seen her eyes when in raising 
them to heaven, after fixing them on me, they 
demanded the victory.” 
“You are right—she is charming—but you 
must have rivals. 
“ Rivals! I have a thousand without doubt.” 
“ But they will carry her off before your eyes, 
“ They will carry her off?” 
“To tell you the truth, I fear they will; :ne 
Samnite youths are very brave.” 
“Oh! bravo as you like, it is not that which 
disquiets me. Let the occasion but be given 
me aud you shall hear tell of me.” 
Telespon, who up to this time had pleased 
himself with teasing the young man, eould no 
louger restrain his tears. 
“Ah'.” said he, embracing Aoatis, “what a 
beautiful present heaven makes us in giving us 
ft sensible heart. It is the principal ot all virtues. 
My dear child you fill me with joy. There still 
remains in my old veins blood enough for 
another campaign, and you promise me such 
glorious things that I must go with you and 
participate in them.” 
On the day of departure, according to custom, 
and to animate the warriors, the whole army 
defiled before the young maidens who were 
ranged upou the public place. The good old 
man, Telespon, marched by the side of his sou. 
“Ha! ha!” cried the other old men, “look 
at Telespon rejnvinated ; where is he going at 
his age ?” 
“To the wedding,” replied the good man, 
“to the wedding!" 
Aoatis pointed out Cefhalide to him from 
afar, who rose in celestial grace above all her 
eompauious. His father kept his eyes fixed 
upou him, and observed that in passing before 
her his gentle and serene face inflamed with 
warlike ardor, and became terrible as that of 
Mars himself. 
“Courage, my son,” said the old man, “be 
amorous, it suits you well.” 
A part of the campaign between the Samnites 
and Romaus passed in observing each other 
without coming to decisive action. The strength 
of both States was embraced in these armies, 
and the Geuerals on each side managed them 
with consummate skill. In the meantime the 
youug Samnites who were to marry, burned 
with impatience to come to blows. 
“ I have done nothing yet,” said one, “worthy 
to be inscribed npon the reeords of the Republic, 
aud I should be ashamed to bear my name 
called with no eulogimu to distinguish me.” 
“ It is too bad,” said another, “ that they do 
not deign to ofl’er us au occasion to sigualize 
ourselves. 1 would have done prodigies in this 
campaign.” • 
“Our General,” said the greatest number, 
“ wishes to dishonor us in the eyes ot our old 
men and our wives. If he takes us back without 
a battle, they will have reasou to believe that he 
had uo confidence in our valor.” 
Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore's Kural New-Yorker. 
BIOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
Mr. Peter C. Brooks’ maxim was that “ the 
whole value of wealth consists in the personal 
independence it secures.” An amusing and sin¬ 
gular illustration of that distinguished mer¬ 
chant's maxim is thus given . 
“A merchant named Porter, once had a cleri¬ 
cal friend between whom and himself there ex¬ 
isted great intimacy. Every Saturday night, as 
Porter was sitting balancing bis cash, a note 
would come requesting the loan of a “ flve-dol- 
lar bill.” The money was always punctually 
restored at eight o’clock on the Monday morn¬ 
ing following. But what puzzled the lender 
was, the person always returned the identical 
note he borrowed. Since the discovery of this 
fact he had made private marks on the note; 
still the same was handed back on Monday 
morning. 
“ One Saturday evening Porter sent a five dol¬ 
lar gold piece instead of a note and marked it. 
Still the very same coin was returned on Mon¬ 
day. Porter got nervous and billious about it; 
be could hardly sleep at night for thinking about 
it; he would wake his wife in the middle of the 
night, and ask her what she thought of such a 
strange occurrence. He was fast boiling over 
with curiosity, when news came from the rever¬ 
end borrower, one Christmas eve, asking the 
loan of ten dollars. A brilliant thought now 
struck him. He put on his great coat, resolv¬ 
ing to call and demand an explanation of the 
mystery. When he was shown nto his friend’s 
study, he found him plunged h* the profoundest 
melancholy. 
“ 1 Mr. B.,' said the lender, .f you will answer 
me one question I will lend you that ten dollars. 
How does it happen that you always pay me the 
money you borrow on Saturday night in the very 
same coin or note on Monday morning?’ 
‘The parson raised his head, and, after a 
violent internal struggle, as though he were 
about to uuveil the hoarded mystery of his soui, 
said in faltering tones: ‘ Porter, you are a gen¬ 
tleman, a Christian, and a New Yorker; I know 
I can rely on your inviolable secrecy. Listen to 
the secret of my eloquence. You kuow that I 
am poor; and when, on Saturday, I have bought 
my Sunday dinner, I seldom have a red cent left 
in my pocket. Now, I maintain that no man 
can preach the Gospel and blow np his congre¬ 
gation properly without he has something in his 
pioeket to inspire him with confidence. I have, 
therefore, borrowed five dollars of you every 
Saturday, that I might feel it oceasionly as I 
preached on Sunday. You know how indepen¬ 
dently I do preach—how I make the rich shake 
in their shoes. Well, it is all owing to my know¬ 
ing that I have a five-dollar bill in my pocket. 
Of course never having to use it for any other 
purpose, it is not changed, but invariably re¬ 
turned to you the next morning. But, to-mor- 
Wi r> Mr. George Law is coming to hear me preach, 
and I thought I would try the effect of a ten- 
dollar bill sermon on him!’” — Cyclopedia of 
Commercial and Business Anecdotes. 
I am composed of 32 letters. 
My 7,14, 23, 29, 3, 81, 13. 23, 1 was the daughter of 
Cepheus, King of Ethiopa. 
My 12,19,14,4, 24 is the goddess of beauty. 
My 9, 6,11, 8, 26, 24 was an eminent Geometrician, 
and one of the seven wise men of Greece. 
My 17,10, 30. 5. 32, L 24 was King of Athens, (1235,) 
B. C. 
My 1, 2,15, 29 was the god of war. 
My 25, 22,16, 9,19, 24 was the son of Jupiter and Ca- 
listo. 
My 24, 7,1, 4, 20,14 was the deity who presided over 
time. 
My 11, 5,17, 20, 7, 26,11 was the goddess of justice. 
My 8, 13, 24, 25, 28, 5 was the principal seat of the 
lyric muse. 
My whole is one of the Ten Commandments. 
Pleasant Prairie, VFis. Erista Osborn 
For Moore'3 Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 16 letters. 
My 5, 2,15, 4,13 6 is a man’s name. 
My 10,11.12,13. 6,9 is what doors hang on. 
M y10, 8» 14 is an article of dress. 
My 5, 4, 8, 9, 9 grows in summer. 
My 6, 3, 9.14 is where the sun rises. 
My 7, 3, 4 has been in progress in thia country. 
My 3,12, 2 is a diget. 
My 16, A1 is a small horse. 
My whole was the name of a great Statesman. 
Onondaga Hill, N. Y. Edwin Gilson. 
Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A PUZZLE. 
I am a decimal number, my letters are three, 
And I am in the word rounder you all must agree; 
I am two-thirds of three-fourths of a scare and no less, 
Which is perfectly true as you nil mast confess. 
Just reverse me for Sin, you are then made aware. 
In more senses than oue 1'ui a dangerous snare; 
And though strange it appears, It is equally true, 
That I'm woven, and oitec on ornament too. 
Mozomonie, Wis. Mar y Haseltine. 
js tr Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &e., IN No. 802, 
WIT AND HUMOR. 
What kiud of a paper resembles a sueeze? 
Tissue. 
A lecturer was dilating upon the powers of 
the magnet, denying any one to show or name 
anything surpassing its power. A hearer de¬ 
murred, and instanced a young lady, who used 
to attract him thirteen miles every Sanday. 
A man in New Hampshire had the misfortune 
recently to lose his wife. Over the grave he 
caused a stone to be placed, on which, in the 
depth of his grief, he had ordered to be inscribed, 
“ Tears cannot restore her, therefore I weep.” 
An artist in New York city painted a dog so 
naturally, that the animal had the hydrophobia 
during the hot weather. He’s the same man 
who painted a copy of a beer bottle with such 
skill, that the cork flew out just as he was finish¬ 
ing it. 
An old washerwoman would hang her clothes 
to dry on the railings of a church, and after re¬ 
peated prohibitions from the church warden, she 
at last came out with the following burst of olo- 
Answer to Illustrated Rebus:—Moore’s Periodical 
is highly esteemed. 
Answer to Biographical Enigma:—This is the last 
of earth. I am content. 
Answer to Anagram: 
The epriug is here, the joyful spring. 
The fields, the woods, the valleys ring; 
The birds sing sweetly on every bongh. 
An d nature is gay and joyous now. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—20 miles. 
MOOSE'S SURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LAROKST-CLKCULATINe 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper 
IS PUBLISHED EVKSY SATURDAY BY 
D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N, Y. 
Office, Dmea Bmidugi, Opposite the Court Home, iutlak) 8t 
TER US, IX JJDYAXCE: 
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A maiden lady, uot remarkable for either 
beauty, youth, or good temper, came for advice 
to Mr. Arnold as to how she eould get rid of a 
troublesome suitor. “O Mary! marry him!” 
was the advice. “ Nay, I would see him hanged 
first," “No, madam, marry him, as I said to 
you, and I assure you it will not be long before 
he hangs himself.” 
another, must specify 
-T)Ul 
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iatl 
Day Clerks aud printer*. Wo cannot *vora mmoxpfc 
ano her.ee charge is rent* for each change n address 
to secure compliance. tST This change oi addraw in¬ 
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books and in mailing-machine type. &*" w &** "J ™ 4 
>\ O CJin.r.i>t afford ILIA ^TTteiibe, 
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