• 0 
SNOW SCULPTURE. 
BY GEOROK W. BUNGAY. 
On hills and forests bare and brown, 
X see the silent snow come down, 
So soft and white, 
I.iko showers of blossoms winds have blown 
From flowers of light. 
Faster and faster fall the flakes, 
On tlie dim woods and silver lakes, 
Fr om stormy skies, 
lake soft words on a heart that breaks 
When jiity sighs. 
Ye wailing winds, that sadly sigh 
Above the graves where heroes lie. 
In sorrow blow, 
Aud build white columns, broad and high, 
Of stainless snow. 
Let pyramids of spotless hue 
Point to the bending arch of blue 
Without a stain, 
And mark the place where sleep the tree. 
In battle slain. 
Ye unseen sculptors in the air, 
Go carve designs in beauty there. 
And 'grave the name 
Of Raker deep in letters fair 
As wreaths of fame. 
A 
Go where the bending willow weeps 
Over the tomb where Ellsworth sleeps, 
And softly write 
The epitaph that history keeps, 
In letters white. 
Quarry from clouds a shaft to tower 
Above the spot where sleeps the flower 
Of armies true, 
Till blossoms rise in sun and shower, 
Kcd, white, aud blue. 
llw 
AUNT MIRIAM’S ADVENTURE. 
BY AMY RANDOLPH. 
Evening had closed darkly round the little brown 
farm-house in the hollow; gray November nightfall 
and the wild Niagara of crimson sunset tiro had 
poured its flaming tides long since into the great 
unseen chalice of splendor that lies hidden some¬ 
where beyond the western horizon line—the monu¬ 
mental urn were rest entombed alike the days 
crowned with roses and those baptized in tears! 
There was no sound without, save the branches of 
the huge sycamore tree chafing uneasily against the 
moss-enameled roof, and the plaining wind among 
the brown and scarlet drifts of leaves that carpeted 
every dingle of the woods, Wilhin. the red bricks 
ol the hearth had boon, swept until they shone as if 
carved in coral, and the many tongues of tiame 
danced and crackled among the gigantic logs like a 
band of elfin sprites. The cricket that harbored 
somewhere in the chimney corner had commenced 
his vespers, and Aunt Miriam Fenner’s brisk knit¬ 
ting-needles shone and glanced in the fire-light, as 
she sat there in an old-fashioned cap-border and 
spectacles, looking almost as pretty—so Uncle Peter 
thought—as she used lo look in the days when he 
came sparking, and was wont to contemplate the 
evolutions ot her gleaming needles while he consul* 
ered what it was best to say next! 
Nobody would have suspected Peter of any such 
romantic meditation, as he sat there sorting out 
seed-corn and packages of blue beans on his round 
table, and labeling them with portentous delibera¬ 
tion ! So little do we know what is passing in one 
another’s minds! 
There was a third person, sitting in the red hearth 
glow, however; a young man of about twenty-four 
yoare of age, with dark brown hair and eyes to cor¬ 
respond, who amused himself by tantalizing Aunt 
Miriam’s kitten with the good old lady’s ball of yarn 
— the animal, like all the rest of her sex, becoming 
more and more anxious for the woolly sphere the 
higher it was held ! 
“So you've really made up your mind to get 
married, James— do stop teasing that kitten!” said 
the old lady, with a constrained voice. 
“Yes, Aunt Miriam; it isn’t good for man to be 
alone, you know.’’ 
There was a silence again. James Arnett 
wound and unwound his yarn very unnecessarily; 
Uncle Peter eyed his seed-peas thoughtfully, and 
Mrs. Fenner knit energetically on, with pursed-up 
lips and a scarcely perceptible shrug of the 
shoulders. 
“ Aunt Miriam, I wish yon could see Millicent,” 
said the young man, at length. 
“I can’t say I have any desire to sec your city 
young ladies. James,” said Aunt Miriam, coldly; 
“they’er too fine spun for an old woman like me. 
White hands and piano playin' may be very grand— 
I dare say it is—but it don’t suit my taste.” 
“But, Aunty, I am sure you -would like her. 
Come, now, do be reasonable, and go over to Squire 
Brownell’s with me to-night; she is spending a week 
at her grandfather’s, and she would be so much 
gratified’to see you!" 
“Thank you. I aint curious on the subject,” re¬ 
sponded Aunt Miriam, primly. “ Only 1 hcored 
that Mis’ Brownell had a bad stroke of the rbeuma- 
tiz, and I don’t see how she gets along to wait on 
her new-fangled granddartcr!” 
“ I can't understand why you are so prejudiced 
against poor Millicent, Aunt Miriam,” said the young 
man, uneasily. “I won't disguise from you that it 
makes me very unhappy to think of marrying with¬ 
out the approval of one who has been a mother to 
me, and yet—■” 
“And yet you’re determined to go your own gate; 
that’s the plain English ot it, James;'’ said Aunt 
Miriam, “Well, I s'pose you can do without mv 
consent; you’ll never get it, anyhow!’’ And she 
poked the fire vigorously as the old clock began to 
strike. 
“Seven o’clock!” ejaculated James, starting up, 
“ and I promised to he at the post-office by this time. 
There’s to be a meeting about the minister’s Thanks¬ 
giving donation party, yon know, Uncle Peter! 
Bless me, I didn’t imagine how late it was!” 
And with a gay parting nod to his aunt, he dis¬ 
appeared. 
“ There he goes — as good a boy as ever lived,” 
said Uncle Peter; “but I guess afore the evenin' 
comes to an end. he’ll contrive to get round to Squire 
Brownell’s. Miriam, you may as well say yes to 
that affair at once; he’s determined to marry the gal, 
rings and city fashions and all.” 
“I wish we’d never sent him to college in New 
York.” sighed Mrs. Fenner, “then he would not 
have come across this city sweetheart.” 
“ Then he’d ha’ come across somebody else; so it’s 
as broad as it is long,” remarked Peter, philo¬ 
sophically. 
“ Yes, but it might have been a smart stirring gal, 
who knew how to keep house; not a useless toy, good 
for nothin’ tint lo hang gay clothes on. I tell you, 
Peter, I can’t approve of it no how.” 
Uncle Peter whistled “Hark, from the Tombs a 
doleful sound,” and returned once more to the con¬ 
templation of his melon seeds and corn kernels. 
Nine o'clock; the fire covered with a mound of 
brown ashes; the cricket chirping drowsily, and 
Uncle Peter snoring melodiously from an inner 
room; still Mrs. Fenner sat there mechanically ply¬ 
ing her knitting needles, yet unconscious (bat the 
kitten was frisking about, and hopelessly entang- 
Hag her precious ball of homespun yarn — deaf 
and dumb and blind to everything but her own 
thoughts. 
“ f wonder,” she began, and then stopped. “After 
all,” she mentally resumed the next minute, “there 
can’t be any harm in it. if I just slip od my hood 
and shawl and go through the orchard path, across 
to Squire Brownell’s. Sot that I’d go in—not a hit 
of it; but I’d merely take a peep iu at the keopiu'- 
room window as I went past. I would like to see 
what sort of a face it is that has bewitched James 
so completely; but ho must never be any the wiser 
for it!” 
She pondered a second or two longer, then rose 
hurriedly, extinguished the little candle that stood 
in a shilling brass candlestick on the mantel, list¬ 
ened a moment to the unbroken monotony of Uncle 
Peter’s snores, and muffling a shawl round her head, 
withdrew the bolt of the kitchen door, and crept out 
into the starless gloom of the November night! 
it was but a short distance, under the leafless 
branches of the gnarled old apple-trees and into the 
turnpike road. A unt Miriam felt a little conscience- 
stricken as she lifted the wicket of Squire Brownell’s 
gate, and stole noiselessly up the chrysanthemum 
bordered walk; she couldn't help wondering what 
Elder Oliver would say jf he were to become aware 
that she, the sagest old lady in the congregation, 
were prowling about here like a thief in the night! 
“It’s all for James’s sake,” said the venerable 
dame, under her breath, as she pushed aside the 
great sweetbrier that hung over the panes, and 
peeped slyly into the window. 
Mrs. Browncdl sal in a big arm-chair by the fire, 
her feet swathed in flannel; the squire was smoking 
his pipe over a three-days’-old newspaper; and be¬ 
fore a pine table, at the other end of the room, stood 
a rosy-cheeked girl, of perhaps seventeen, the 
sleeves of her crimson merino dress rolled up above 
a pair of exquisitely dimpled elbows, and berjmuds 
buried in a wooden tray of Hour — engaged, in fact, 
in the operation which housekeepers cull “setting a 
sponge.'^ .So much at home did she seem in the culi¬ 
nary art, that Aunt Miriam said to herself, very 
decidedly. “ This can’t be the city visitor; 1 wonder 
where she is?” when her doubts were dispelled by 
.Mrs. Brownell’s voice: 
“ Millicent. I wish you would write out the receipt 
for that cake you made for tea — 1 don’t see where 
you learned to be so handy about the house?” 
“Why, grandmamma!” said the young lady gaily, 
“ you seem to forget that my mother was educated 
under your eye. She does not believe that French 
and music are everything a girl needs to learn. 
Now do put those stockings down—I’ll see that they 
are duly mended, by-and-by.” 
Aunt Miriam turned away from the window more 
bewildered than ever, but with a very satisfied feel¬ 
ing stirring under the heap of prejudices that had 
filled her kind old heart. If this were the much- 
talked-of Millicent, things might not be so bad after 
all. And Milly worked away at her sponge, the 
merry smiles dimpling over her face, like sunshine 
on abed of roses, utterly unconscious of the audience 
of “one,” who was now contemplating a retreat 
But the adventures of the night were not yet at a 
close. As Aunt Miriam groped her way toward the 
path, lamenting the pitchy darkness of the night, and 
the crackling of the crisp leaves as her not very 
elastic foot shuffled through them, every pulse in her 
frame came to a sudden pause of terror, as a pair of 
muscular arms were thrown round her, and a mous¬ 
tache came in contact with her cheek! Such a kiss 
—Aunt Miriam couldn’t remember its like since the 
days when Peter Fenner courted the beauty of the 
village. In vain she struggled breathlessly to escape 
—whoever the individual might be, he didn't do 
things by halves, and evidently had no disposition 
to relinquish his prize. 
“ My darling little Milly! how did you know 1 was 
coming to-night?” 
Then came another kiss, before Aunt Miriam 
could exclaim, in stifled accents, 
“James Arnett, are you crazy? Do let go of me, 
and behave like a sensible creature!” , 
The arms unclasped with electric speed. 
“ Aunt Miriam! how on earth—” 
“Hush! don’t speak above -your breath! There, 
now — if you're going to laugh like that, you’ll raise 
the town!” 
“ I —I can’t help it, Aunt Miriam,” gasped James, 
clinging to the gate-post, and vainly trying to check 
the gusts of laughter that would come. “ What will 
Uncle Peter say? who would have expected to find 
Mrs. Fenner, Vice-President of the Dorcas So¬ 
ciety—” 
“James, hold your tongue, if you don’t want me 
to box your ears. And if you breathe a word of this 
to any living soul—’’ 
“Well. I won’t, aunty—I won't, upon my word— 
only the whole affair is so supremely ridiculous.” 
“ Nonsense,” said Aunt Miriam, slipping through 
the gate. “ There, you needn’t turn back with me, 
you silly boy. Coin and see Milly—I know that’s 
what yon would prefer. AndJamit—” 
“ Well, Aunt Miriam.” 
“ I’ve changed ray mind about that little Milly of 
yours. I don’t believe you can find a prettier wife, 
or a better, so settle matters as soon as you please, 
and we'll see whether your old aunt Miriam has for¬ 
gotten bow to make wedding cake.” 
“ But are you in earnest, aunt ?” 
“ Never was more so in my life.” 
“ What has altered your convictions? surely I may 
ask that one question?” 
“ That isn’t at all to the purpose, young man. 
But remember, not a word of this ridiculous ad¬ 
venture !” 
“You know how to administer bribes. Aunt Mi¬ 
riam," said the youth gayly, as he enfolded the old 
lady in his arms, and gave her yet a third kiss. 
Through the starless darkness she hurried—under 
the wind-tossed apple trees, and beneath the friendly 
shadow of her own porch, where Uncle Peter’s 
snores yet resounded like muffled trumpets. 
“What makes you so late, wife?” demanded a 
drowsy voice from the inner apartment, as she glided 
around, replacing shawls and wrappers. “ I’ve been 
as fast asleep as a dormouse, I do believe — bull 
did think 1 heered the click of the bolt.” 
“ It must have been the kitten among the tin I 
pans,” quoth Aunt Miriam—the nearest approach to 
a fib she ever indulged in, before or after. 
And in subsequent life, when the firm conviction 
seized her, that James Arnett had imparted her 
secret—in strict confidence, of course—to his pretty 
wife, she consoled herself by saying, mentally: 
“ Well, I don't care if he has—for my part, 1 shall 
always be glad of that peep into Squire Brownell's 
window*” 
IteM, JPattitific, $c. 
THE U. S. ARMORY AT SPRINGFIELD. 
Eds. Rural New-Yorker:—I have just spent a 
day in visiting the United States Armory and other 
establishments now engaged in making arms and 
equipage for Government. In these war days it is 
ot special interest to know something of the war 
aspect of these establishments. 
The Armory is the largest in the country, and 
has been for many years owned and managed by 
Government, like the Harpers Ferry Arsenal in 
Virginia. Beside these are several private Arsenals 
making weapons on contract In peaceful times 
some 25.000 muskets a year were made here; now 
some 10,000 a month, and the number increasing. 
This bcautilul city of 18,000 people is on the east 
bank of the Connecticut, the larger part of it on the 
level ground along the river. Rising a gradual 
ascent of a hundred feet you reach a level table¬ 
land, on which are the Armory grounds—some 50 
acres, inclosed by an iron fence ten feet high, its 
gates guarded by sentries. 
I went first in the morning, but learned at the gate 
that the officials whom I knew were absent, and gave 
up the matter until afternoon. Going again to the 
gate, a sentry went with me to an officer, a personal 
friend, who readily gave the required “pass” needed 
to go through the grounds. Night and day a rigid 
watch is kept, and the visitors allowed are not many. 
The buildings are ranged around a square of a 
dozen acres, which is inclosed by a fine hedge, 
planted with rows of trees, and has a tall flag-staff' 
in the center, at the base of which are planted four 
Cannon, aud from its top floats the Star Spanged 
Banner. 
On the north side are two brick buildings, each 
some 500 feet long, two stories high, in which the 
lighter forging is done, as well as grinding, Ac. 
Long ranges of trip-hammers are working steel into 
bayonets, and at scores of grindstones sit as many 
men, each with bayonet, ramrod, or some part of a 
weapon iu hand, while streams of fiery sparks Hash 
from the swift-rolling stones. Here is a steam 
engine, a beautiful specimen, which gives the power 
to all this mechanism. But wo must not tarry, even 
where much can be seen. Passing to the east side 
of the square 1 found two brick shops, each 200 feet 
long, and between them a building used for offices 
by the “ powers that bo.” Going into a long room, 
the ear is greeted by the scraping of a hundred 
files, and the click of curious mechanism. Pass to 
another, aud gun locks are piled about in process of 
completion, for which again most accurate and 
ingenious machines are used. Then you can go 
into a “finishing room.” where the nice touches are 
given. So in each place a different part of a musket 
is going through some new process—each gun pass¬ 
ing through a score or two of hands, and machinery 
beautiful, complicated, and costly, being used. 
Of the mechanical skill, the inventive genius, the 
great cost of gun-making on a large scale, few have 
an idea. Each workman has his stock of steel, iron, 
or brass weighed out and charged, and the completed 
work in his department is weighed by an overseer, 
a certain deduction made for waste in working, and 
any deficit is taken from the worker’s wages. Of 
this no f/ood workman complains,—bad ones do not 
stay long. As wages are good and paid in gold, 
there are enough well lilted tor their places. 
South of the square are three buildings, each 150 
foot in length, the central one a lofty three-story 
brick, formerly used for storing 100,000 muskets. It 
is that of which Longfellow says, in his poem— 
“ The Arsenal at Springfield"— 
‘•This is Che Arsenal, from floor to celling. 
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; 
Rut, from their silent pipes no anthem pealing 
Startles the villagers to rude alarms." 
These are now used for making gun boxes, and 
for the turning and fitting of gun stocks, in which 
curious and wonderful machinery is used. The 
machine for turning irregular shapes in wood, was 
the invention of Thomas Blanchard of this place, 
and was first used in turning gun stocks for Gov¬ 
ernment, Another steam engine in the central 
building gives the power needed. 
Facing the square from the west is the great new 
Arsenal buildings—ample, massive, and imposing— 
from the tower of which is a beautiful view of the 
fair city in the valley, the wiuding river, the broad 
rich meadows, and the blue mountains of Berkshire 
county far westward, with Mount Tom and the 
llolyoke mountains standing out against the sky 
fifteen miles northward, and pleasant villages, white 
church spires, and substantial farm houses scattered 
over the broad valley between—one of the most 
charming prospects tiiis fair earth has to offer. 
The Arsenal could store some 800,000 muskets, 
but the quantity now there is not large, as the army 
demand is great, and a year ago Secretary Fi.ovd 
craftily sent over 100.000 South— all of which are in 
rebel haruls. Of the quantities sent away now. one 
can judge from the fact that in two days a regiment 
can be armed from the workshops. Those made 
now are rifled. 
In front of the Arsenal were long lines of battery 
wagons, caissons, and ammunition wagons, made in 
the city. There are some smaller offices around the 
square, and a few handsome dwellings of the officers, 
their grounds protected by evergreen hedges admir¬ 
ably kept. Everywhere were exquisite neatness, 
good taste, and exact order. 
At the north-west, corner of the square stands the 
spacious house of the Superintendent. I walked 
through the open gate to the lawn, and stood on the 
spot where once was the plain cottage where I was 
born. Looking around, all was changed; but as the 
eye ranged further away, there spread the glorious 
valley, there sparkled the blue river, and there 
stood the mountains. The memories of childhood 
were fresh and living. I walked away toward the 
gate of the grounds, and passing the sentry, brought 
back the realities of the present. 
Beside all these buildings, are the “water shops,” 
a mile south, on a stream where both water and 
steam can be used—a vast pile of buildings where 
heavy forging is done. Gun barrels are rolled into 
nearly a circular shape by paseiug through several 
heavy rollers, and then welded over an iron bar, and 
the rough cavity left by its withdrawal bored smooth 
by sharp, strong augurs. I did not visit them, but 
have often done so formerly. There, too, is a guard 
night and day. 
In the whole establishment are now over 1,300 
men, to whom more than $50,000 are paid as wages 
monthly. 
I visited also the large shops of Tyler A.Co., 
where ate 120 men making gun machinery for Gov¬ 
ernment, About 100 men are making harnesses, 
and equal numbers wagons for the army; so that 
the whole force at different places in the city working 
for Government is about 1,700 men. , 
Smith & Wesson have a pistol factory, in which 
are 120 men, working on private contracts, but of 
course reaching the army at last. 
The next day T went to Chickopet—a factory 
town of some 5,000 people, Ihrce miles north. Taking 
the cars with a friend, we swept along the river 
bank, passed “Hampden Park”—an inclosure of 
some 60 acres, where was held the famed “Horse 
Fair” a year or two since—went by the long range 
of cotton factories, now working on half time, aud 
stopped near the gate to the establishment of Ames 
A Co., who are making brass cannon, shot, shell, and 
swords for “Uncle Sam,” Getting the needed 
“pass” at the office, we crossed the canal and found 
ourselves among the long massive ranges of heavy 
buildings. We went to the great room, partly under¬ 
ground, with its earth floor, massive cranes for 
swinging large weights, and immense furnaces 
where cannon are cast, but did not see the process. 
There were the huge molds all ready for the molten 
brass, and we saw that the guns are east some four 
feet longer than necessary, and the upper and 
larger part cut off. This is to prevent flaws that 
may occur in the top of the casting, the lower part 
being more solid and perfect We next went to see 
the boring process. The massive cannon are sus¬ 
pended horizontally in great lathes, and the solid 
brass (for they are cast whole.) is bored by a revolv¬ 
ing bar of iron nearly the diameter of the barrel to 
be made, which lias at its head a cutting chisel that 
cuts slowly into the metal, paring off bright shavings 
in its way. It requires twenty-four hours to com¬ 
plete the work, and three times the chisel is with¬ 
drawn to be sharpened. Beneath the cannon is a 
large pan ot water, from which passed a wet cloth 
revolving over the gun to allay the heat of the 
powerful friction. 
Next comes the rifling, for which the gun is laid 
on an iron bed, and a circular bar of iron, which (its 
snugly into the barrel, is pushed by powerful 
mechanism up to the breech of the piece, und then 
drawn out This bar has a curious chisel at its 
head, which cuts only while the backward motion 
lasts, flinging out as it emerges from the muzzle the 
dust and parings it has taken from within, Tlqs 
liar and its chisel draw out with a spiral motion, 
which is equal to winding about one-quarter ol the 
way around the diameter of the cannon’s barrel in 
its length; and under the watch of two skillful men, 
this process goes on until the rifling is finished. 
The cutting away of the rough exterior by mas¬ 
sive turning lathes, the polishing, .the cutting and 
fitting of the cannon lock, arc all proofs of the mas¬ 
tery of man over the most massive matter, by the 
aid of mechanism of hisown device; and the long lines 
of bright artillery ranged along the side of the vast 
room, and waiting until war awakes their silent 
thunders, tell of terrible and deadly strife. Twenty 
rifled cannon—six and twelve-pounders—are turned 
out weekly. 
In the foundry where shot and shell are cast, are 
great piles of various sizes, from those fitted to the 
smaller guns, to huge shells ten inches in diameter 
and some two leet long, which hiss and hurtle 
through the troubled air, and burst amidst dismay 
and death, at a cost of some forty dollars for each 
fatal errand. Such is the waste of blood and’treos- 
urc in war! 
Passing to another building, we entered a long 
room in which, by blazing forges, with din of trip¬ 
hammers and stroke of hammers wielded by skill¬ 
ful hands, and ring of anvils, men were forging 
sword blades. There we saw the temperi ng process, 
the polishing of blade and scabbard, the smiting of 
huge die6—coming down with a force of tuns—to 
stamp, at a stroke, brass hilts into shape; and in the 
finishing room glittering piles of sword blades aud 
finished specimens of various device, from the 
heavy cavalry saber to the sword of finest temper, 
with its hilt of gold and pearl. 
Many men were working also on the beautiful and 
costly machinery, used in Springfield and elsewhere, 
in gun making, In all, over seven hundred men— 
most skillful workmen—are employed in this place. 
Just above are over two hundred and fifty, at the 
shops of Gaylord A Co., making cartridge-boxes, 
belts, Ac., for the army; and at Cbickopee Falls, 
but two miles distant, are a hundred and fifty, 
making carbines and pistols — a total of over 
eleven hundred men. At Springfield and Chick- 
opee are some three thousand workmen, in the 
Government shops and private factories, working 
for the army. 
Thus can youv many readers form some idea of 
the magnitude of these constant labors, in this 
greatest Arsenal of the Western Continent, and its 
surrounding helpers. G. b. s. 
Springfield, Mass., Dec. 25,1S61. 
UNHEALTHY POSITIONS OF THE BODY. 
Those persons engaged in occupations requiring 
the hands alone to move, while the lower limbs re¬ 
main motionless, should bear in mind that without 
constantly raising the frame to an erect position, 
and giving a slight exercise to all parts ol the body, 
such a practice will tend to destroy their health. 
They should, moreover, sit in as erect a position as 
possible. With seamstresses there is always more 
or less stooping of the head aud shoulders, tending 
to retard circulation, respiration, und digestion, and 
produce curvature of the spine. The head should 
be thrown back, to give the lungs full play. The 
frequent long-drawn breath of the seamstress 
evinces the cramping and confinement of the lungs. 
Health cannot be expected without free respiration. 
The life-giving element is in the atmosphere, and 
without it in proportionate abundance must disease 
intervene. Strength and robustness must come from 
exercise. Confined attitudes are in violation of cor¬ 
rect theories of healthy physical development and 
the instinct of nature. Those accustomed to sit 
writing for hours, day after day, can form some idea 
of the exhausting nature of the toilsome and ill-paid 
labor of the poor seamstress. 
Concentration. —The weakest living creature, 
by concentrating his powers on a single object, can 
accomplish something; the strongest, by dispersing 
his over many, may fail to accomplish anything. 
The drop, by continued falling, bores a passage 
through the hardest rock; the hasty torrent rushes 
over it w r ith hideous uproar, and leaves no trace 
1 behind. 
(fismn te t!w fjonng, 
For Moore's Kural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 63 letters. 
My 17. 41, 16. 3. 1. 20, 10, 9 is a State. 
My 10, 32* 29. 16 is a county in Virginia. 
My 10. 14, 22, 23 is a rity in Europe. 
My 15. IS, 3, 19 is a Territory. 
My 5, 49, 37, 30. 20, 24 is a division of Africa. 
My 10, 42. 31 is a river in Louisiana. 
My 38, 47. 43, 52, 10 is a town in Tennessee. 
My 25, 3. 2, 20, 10, 20 is a desert. 
My 4, 26, 3, 53. 12, 46 is a river. 
My 8. 20, 45.13, 7, 10, 4S is a town in Georgia. 
My 51, 44, 24,10, 35 is a cape. 
My 21. 13, 42, 44, 31 is a river in Scotland. 
My 10, 3, 88. 24, 39, 10 is a rity in Wales. 
My 50. 20, 11 is a frith in Scotland. 
My 28. 10, 20. 29 is a range of mountains. 
My 43, 7, 10, 22, 6, 45, 50 is a State. 
My 29. 27, 24, 30, 34, 45 is a town in Canada. 
My 30, 3, 40, 33, 36, 45 is a city in Ohio. 
My whole is one of the injunctions bequeathed to us by our 
Savior. 
Gainesville, N. Y., 1862. S. B. T. 
fjjp" Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
HISTORICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 30 letters. 
My 17, 2, 0, 20 was a spy carried before Sir William Howe. 
My 13, 14, 15,10, 12 was a son of Columbus. 
My 19, 20. 10, 2 was a Mexican general taken prisoner by 
My 3, 18, 26. 
MJ 21 24, 2, 23, 24 was a Commissioner to the Court of France. 
My 16, 6, 14, 22, 11, 11 was the inur.o of the lady who pre¬ 
sented embroidered colors to Moultrie's regiment. 
My 18, 6, 7, 15, 9 was a brave officer, whose Christian name 
was 
My 24. 29, 17, 2, 23. 
My 4. 18. 30, 23, 20 was a gallant hero of the Revolution. 
My 19, 2, 28, 10, 17, 18, 9 was the British general who destroy¬ 
ed the town of Esopus. 
My 3, 2, 17, 20, 4 was a missionary to the American Indians. 
My 25, 1. 2, 3. 5 was a tribe of Indians kindred to the Illinois. 
My 12, 9, 20. S, 27,18 was a tribe of the Five Nations. 
My 4, 30, 22, 3, 16, 9, 10 was the scene of an awful massacre. 
My whole were the dying words of a Fresident. 
Thompson, O., 1802, Lucie. 
Answer in two weeks. 
REBUSES ON THE NAMES OF ANIMALS. 
A weight. 
A cooking utensil, the definite article, and a consonant. 
Two-thirds of a falsehood and a preposition. 
A boy : s nickname and two-thirds of a liquor. 
Four sevenths of a precept and a small 6tream. 
A consonant and a part of the head. 
Ail article of apparel and a vowel. 
A body of water and a consonant. 
Two thirds of an insect, and a word signifying to declare. 
A consonant aud a favorite pastime. 
Twice yourself, a consonant, and a liquor. 
A vowel, a disease of the foot, and a vowel. 
A part of the body, a shiver, and a vowel. 
A consonant, a vowel, and a head-dress. 
A piece of wood, a consonant-, and a preposition. 
A celebrated perfume, a consonant, and a preposition. 
Three-fifths of a girl's uickname and a vowel. 
A consonant and a preposition. 
Three-eighths of urbanity and two-fifths of a medicine. 
A gentle knock and two-thirds of anger. 
Two-thirds of decay, a vowel, and a male rabbit. 
tnT Answer in two weeks. 
ABOUT ORDER. 
Little friends, put tilings right back in their proper places. 
Never leave things all about, helter-skelter, topsy turvy — 
never. When you use any article — hoc, 6hovel, rake, pitch- 
fork, ax, hammer, tongs, boots or shoes, books, slates, pencils, 
writing-apparatus, pins, thimbles, pincushions, needles, work- 
baskets, kitchen furniture, every article of housewifery or 
husbandry, no matter what it ib— the very mometU you have 
done using it, return it to its proper place. Be sure to have a 
special place for everything—a place for everything aud every¬ 
thing in it* place. Order, order, perfect order is the watch¬ 
word, heaven's first law. How much precious time is saved 
(aside from vexation) by observing order, systematic regular¬ 
ity. And little folks should begin early to presene order in 
everything—form habits of order. Those loose, slipshod, 
slatternly habits, are formed in childhood, and habits once. 
formed cling for life. Young friends, begin early to keep 
things straight in their proper places; study neatness, order, 
economy, sobriety, everything justr honest, pure, lovely, and 
of good report. 
Little tilings—aye, little tilings— 
Make up the sum of life; 
Then let us watch these “ little things,” 
And so respect each other 
That not a word, or look, or tone. 
May wound a friend or brother. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c.. IN No. 628. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem:—$15.33 121 163. 
Answer.to Cliarade:—Hour Glass. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND RASHLY WEEKLY, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, 
1). D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Ollicc, Union Buildings, Opposite the Com! Douse, Buffalo Street 
TERMS IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year.— To Clubs aud Agents as follows:— 
Three Copies one year, for $5; Six, and one lice to club agent, 
for S10; Ten, and one tree, lor $15; Fifteen, and one free, for $21; 
Twenty, and one free, for $26, and auy greater number at same 
rate — only $1.26 per copy. Club papers directed to individuals 
and sent to as many dilferent Post-Oflices as desired.. As we pre¬ 
pay' American postage on papers sent to the British Provinces, 
our Canadian agents and friends must add 12l£ cents per copy to 
the club rates of the Rural. The low est price of copies sent to 
Europe, kc.. is $2.50—including postage. 
t^grXui: above Terms r.nd Rales are invariable. Therefore, 
any person who is not an agent, sending the club rate ($1.50 or 
$1.25) for a single copy (the price of which jb $2 ,) will only 
receive the paper the length of time the money pays for at full 
-ingle Copy price. People who send us less than published 
rates, aud request the paper for a year, or a return of the 
money, cannot he accommodated—Cor it would he unjust to 
Others to comply, aud a great inconvenience to return remit¬ 
tances. The only way to get the Rckal for lees than $2 a year, 
is to form or join a club. 
The Cash System is strictly adhered to in publishing the 
Rural —copies are never mailed to individual subscribers until 
paid for, and always discontinued i often the subscription term 
expires. Hence, we force the paper upon none, and keep no 
credit hooks, long experience having demonstrated that the 
Casq Plan is the best for both Subscriber and Publisher. 
Additions to Clubs are always in order, whether in ones, 
twos, fives, tens, twenties, or any other number Subscriptions 
can commence with the volume or any number; but the former 
is the best time, and we shall send from it for some weeks, unless 
specially directed otherwise. Please “make a note of it" 
OCR Inducements for obtaining subscribers to the Thirteenth 
Volume of the Rural, for 1862, are of the most Liberal and 
Substantial character. Premium Lists, Show-Bills. &c., eent 
free to all disposed to act as agents, 
Any person bo disposed can act as local agent for the Rural 
New-Yorker, and those who volunteer iu the good cause will 
receive gratuities, and their kindness be appreciated. 
No Traveling Agents are employed by us, as we wish to 
give the whole field to local agents and those who form clubs, 
ty See Publisher's Notices on preceding page. _2„j 
