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IHE INDELIBLE PENCIL COMPANY 
(Northampton, Mass.,) 
MANUFACTURERS OF THE IMPROVED 
An unwashed street hoy, being asked what 
made him so dirty, replied, I was made, they 
tell me, of the ground, and I reckon it’s just 
working out. 
Ax antl-hymenial pnnster says that the recrim¬ 
inations of married people resemble the sounds 
of the wave® on the seashore—being the mur¬ 
murs of the tied. 
A bandy wishing to he witty, accosted a young 
bell-man as follows“ You take all sorts of 
trumpery in your cart, don’t you ?” “ Yes ; 
jump in, jump in.” 
A German being required to give a receipt in 
full, after much mental effort produced the fol¬ 
lowing “ I ish full. I wants no more money.” 
John Swackhammer. 
Josh Biddings says: —“Give the devil his 
due” sounds well enough in proverb, but mi 
friends, what will become uv me and you if this 
arrangement is carried out ? 
The editor of a Chicago newspaper has de¬ 
clared, in speaking of the filth of that city, that 
he bad two hundred and twenty several and 
distinct smells, with three wards to hear from. 
What quadrupeds are admitted to dinner par¬ 
ties, balls and operas ? White kids. 
At an agricultural dinner the following toast 
was given The game of fortune. Shuffle the 
cards as you will, spades must win. 
A young lady, on being asked where was her 
native place, replied, “1 have none; I am the 
daughter of a Methodist minister.” 
have made our hearts leap for joy to see how 
glad and satisfied they were when they had once 
overcome the difficulties of the alphabet. 
Well, for nearly five years he has lived there, 
he and the old captain,—for the boy pined so for 
his mother that nothing at length would arouse 
him, aud he fell asleep just at the close of one 
of the loveliest days of last June, and they 
buried him there under an old pine tree. Think 
of the requiems sung over his lonely grave when 
the wind rises at night! 
Claip.e seems half in a dream. She cannot 
realize that such blessedness is really hers, 
though I do think if any one in this world 
really deserves God’s richest blessings, it is 
our dear old Claire. 
They are to be married next week, and will 
perhaps settle near us. He is no longer the 
poor schoolmaster, but one of the richest men 
for miles around. His uncle died four years 
ago, leaving him all his immense property, and 
so Claire don’t succeed in marrying a poor 
man after all. 
Dear Madge, you saw her once as the belle of 
the ball-room; come now and make us a visit 
aud see her in her role as Lady Bountiful, for 
such I am sure Bbc will be. 
The vessel which took John up, finally, at his 
island home, was bound for England, so he went 
to his old birth-place and staid a fortnight. You 
should see the trunk full of things he brought to 
Claire. 
Exquisite laces fit to adorn a queen’s throat, 
dainty mulls and soft cashmeres; and silks— 
you would look well in some of them. Then 
there was a tiny velvet and gold casket, lined 
with amber satin, and at the bottom, lying there 
in pure, solitary splendor, was a diamond brace¬ 
let, winch he told us had been his mother’s. 
There was a curious blending of pride and sor¬ 
row in the way he said it, which I would give 
much to fathom. But that will probably be 
Claike’8 task, not mine. I only know from 
hints he has dropped several times that there 
is some sad mystery ubout his family history 
which lies heavily on his heart. But I will 
not think about It longer, for it is enough to 
know him kind and noble and true. Last came 
fonr exquisite little vases of tinted wood, with 
the strangest carved figures upon them ; they 
were of Persian device he told us, and the wood 
was still rich and spicy with the fragrant odor 
of that far-off land. Two of them he gave to 
Madge and Nelly. Baby looks at hers with 
wonder, but Madge holds hers up against her 
face aud says “It is sweeter than roses!” 
But why cannot you come aud see us all, and 
rejoice with us? Your little namesake pleads 
for you; Robert says he longs to see you, and 
as for me—why, the day that brings you to our 
door shall be tjhc merriest day of all the glad, 
glad year! Come soon. 
Your loving Milly. 
seems as if it were some winged messenger, 
bringing her “tidings of great joy.” I am so 
glad she can enjoy these hours. She seems to 
rest then in full content, like a tired child fall¬ 
ing asleep in a meadow full of clover blooms; 
scarcely a thought of the outer, busy world of 
care and sorrow to trouble her, but only “ in a 
half-dream,” where she weaves her own glad 
fancies in bright., unfading colors! 
Little Madge has come in and is standing by 
me, patiently waiting for my pen to stop, but I 
must just wait to sketch her for you. She has 
your color of hair—the purple-black that Nan¬ 
nie used to rave about; eyes large and dark, 
but almost of a blue shade, while her features 
arc like rniuc, with a dash of humor about them 
caught from her father. She is as brown as a 
little berry, for I let her run out in the sun and 
wind, caring little for the delicate complexion I 
used to prize, but all for the rosy cheeks, the 
glad look of health. 
Nelly is her father’s self in miniature. Gold¬ 
en hair curling away from her pure, fair brow, 
and deep blue eyes lull of gleams of mirth ; full 
red lips and dimpled checks, a nose just the 
least trifle retroussez, aud rather low but broad 
forehead. There you have my two darlings! 
Only, Madge, no words of mine can reproduce 
the love-light shining on their dear little faces; 
the trust and faith m the uplifted eye, nor the 
gentle grace that adonis them. All this you 
must tee to understand, and though T look at 
them through mother-eye *, yet you would hardly 
fail to see the promise of rare womanhood in 
them could you see them. If they live here till 
then ; if not, ah Madge, they will be wondrous 
fair among the angels ! 
Ever your fond Milly. 
SWOED AND PLOW 
Thebe once was a Count, so I’ve heard it said. 
Who felt that his end drew near; 
And he call’d his sons before his bed, 
To pari them his goods and gear. 
Be call’d for his Plow, he call’d for his Sword- 
That gallant, good and brave j 
They brought him both, at their father’s word, 
And thus he hl6 blessing gave: 
“ My first-born son, my pride and might, 
Do thou my Sword retain; 
My castle on the lordly height, 
And all my broad domain. 
“ On thee, my wclWov’d younger boy. 
My Plow I here bestow; 
A peaceftil life shalt thou enjoy; 
In the quiet vale below.” 
Contented sank the sire to rest, 
Now all was given away; 
The sons held true his last behest, 
E’en to their dying day. 
“Now tell us what came of the steel of flame, 
Of the castle and Its knight ; 
And tell us what came of the vale so tame, 
And the humble peasant wight.” 
0, ask not of me what the end may be 1 
Ask of the country round 1 
The castle is duet, the Sword is rust, 
The height is hut desert ground; 
But the vale spreads wide in the golden pride 
Of the autumn sunlight now; 
It teems and it ripens far and wide, 
And the honor abides with the Plow! 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA, 
VII. 
at the Parsonage, June 2, 1865. 
Dear Madge:—O ur weary time of waiting 
and watching, hoping aud despairing is, at 
length, all over, and wc look about, over our 
little household, recognizing with glad love the 
fact that each one has full share of the happiness 
that passeth not. away. 
Yesterday, I had beeu busy all day, for we 
have had company for a week—some of dear 
Robeht’s student irieuds—and just at dusk I 
went out to take u little bit of a walk, It was 
a clear, beautiful twilight., and we urged Claire 
to go with us, but she said “uo” to all our 
pleading, saying she would rather stay with the 
children. I have sometimes thought she clings 
to their childish love as to her one consolation 
in life. But that’s all past now ! 
We had been gone nearly an hour, and, return¬ 
ing, found a man leaning over the little gate, 
looking into the open window where Claire 
sot playing with the little ones. Robert hesi¬ 
tated a moment, then going up to him, said, 
laying his hand on his arm, “ Will you come 
in ?” for you see we knew he was a traveler by 
his garments all dust-stained and worn. He 
turned away at first, then suddenly tnrning 
around again, wc were brought face to face with 
JonN Bowen ! 
Yes, himself! and I know you cannot be more 
astonished than I was. My heart beat so fast 
for a minute that I thought I could not stand. 
Then, as I saw the look on the man’s face, I 
controlled myself, and said, “ You see Claire ; 
don’t wait here.” He turned to me then, as 
he said brokenly, “Those children—are they 
Tver's?" 
“ No! indeed! they arc mine. Claire i6 not 
married, and never will he unless you have come 
back to ftilflll your promise.” 
But the words were scarcely out of my mouth 
before he was at the door—then inside, and 
when we reached the room he was holding her 
in a dose embrace, as if he would never let her 
go again, saying, with a voice that sounded as if 
tears were dropping into the broken utterance, 
“Oh, my darling, my poor darling, I can never 
let you go from my arms again,” while Claire 
looked just ready to faint, with her white face 
and great frightened eyes. Then he bent over 
her, and left kiss after kiss upon her cheeks and 
lips aud brow, unmindful of us all, until Claire 
leaned her head on his shoulder aud burst into 
a flood of happy tears. I cried, too, for sympa¬ 
thy, while even Robert, though saying he could 
not see what we were all crying for, had a few 
bright drops in his own eyes, which he quite 
forgot to wipe away. Little Madge went qui¬ 
etly up to him and begau pulling him away, say¬ 
ing “ Nobody shall rumple Auut Claire’s pretty 
ruffles but Nelly and me,” which made us all 
laugh, and then we were ready to sit down and 
hear his story, though he would not move away 
from Claire, but sat holding her hand all the 
time. You know I always thought him an un¬ 
demonstrative man, but I have changed my 
tnind 6inee last night. 
And now for hi6 record. Only two weeks 
after wc left the country he received news from 
England that his favorite uncle, the one for 
whom he was named, was seriously ill; and, if 
he would 6CC him alive, so the writer said, he 
must hasten to him at once. A steamer sailed 
in three days from that time, and in its list of 
passengers was John Bowen’s name! he sent a 
little letter to Claire telling her of his inten¬ 
tions, aud of his hope of meeting her in “Mer- 
rie England,” (for lie is a real Englishman at 
heart,) but that letter Claire never received, 
and he never had the opportunity to write an¬ 
other. 
For now comes the strangest part of the story. 
The vessel in which he had taken passage was 
wrecked, and only himself with the captain and 
his little sou were saved. Saved, but by being 
cast by the waves on the shore of an island al¬ 
most as desolate as that one made famous by 
old Crusoe ; a wild kind of men living there, 
untamed, yet not cruel. They took them to 
their huts, and treated them as if they knew 
them to be superior beings. John had a good 
many books along, which he fortunately rescued, 
and he really taught some of those poor, be¬ 
nighted creatures to read. He says it would 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MILLY’S LETTERS 
I am composed of 17 letters. 
My 15,17, 8 , 7 1h a girl’s name. 
My 2, 8,18,15, 7 is ft hoy’s name. 
My 6,16, it is an article of dress. 
My 16, 7,12 is what we all do. 
My 1,11,16, 5,14 is h good dish. 
My 12,16,10 is a number. 
My 5, 7, 4,17 was the name of one of the Apostles. 
My whole Is one of the Commandments. 
Attica, Ohio. Carrie R 
Answer in two weeks. 
BY CLIO STANLEY. 
[Concluded from page 204, last number.] 
At toe Parsonage, May 1st, 1865. 
Can it be, dear Madge, more than five years 
since I have written to you ? It does not seem 
possible, yet it mnst be so. Then it was May- 
day with us all! Youth aud beauty and love 
cast roses, dripping with fragrance and sun¬ 
shine, on our paths, and we could only lift up 
our glad voices aud sing songs. 
1 heard Claire singing to our little Nelly an 
hour ago, and her sweet sad voice seemed to 
“ Ring in the crimson sunset 
Of Hie long forgotten years,” 
Our four-year old Madge, your own little name¬ 
sake, was sitting by me, and she looked up with 
such a piteous face as she said, “ Aunt Claire 
don’t sing happy as you do, mamma; there’s a 
little cry in her tune.” The child hud guessed 
aright! There is a faint undercurrent of sad¬ 
ness running through all her words and her 
songs, though she wears a smile, sunny as ever, 
on her dear lace, and never says a word to us of 
her grief. 
Yon know as much of it as wc do. Never, 
since we sailed for Europe, the week after I was 
married, bus Claire heard ouc word from him ! 
In my own heart I believe he is dead, and 1 think 
she begins to think the same. Five years of 
silence is enough to break any woman’s heart, 
when she loves a man as entirely aud devotedly 
as our Claire loved John Bowen. 
She goes about the house quietly enough, but 
with a lingering step, as if nil the time conscious 
of something left behind; and does she not leave 
something behind her at every step ? Each day 
I can see she greets the morning with a faint, 
sweet hope in her heart, bora of her own truth 
and love and patience, and which we have 
neither of us the heart to discourage; and each 
night she burie6 it away in the dim sepulcher, 
only to woo it to resurrection in her dreams. I 
often find myself wondering how she can hope 
so against hope, but I never grieve her by say¬ 
ing 6uch a wold. 
As she goes hither and thither over the lawn, 
with that rare face of hers—so shy and tender, 
yet so beautiful in the strength of belief, she 
seems to me like a Calla lily, that royal blossom 
whose , 
“ Spirit yearns with passionate power 
’Cross the gay slopes of Time.” 
Just now she has come in, her apron heaped 
and running over with the first roses of the 
season, which seem to have opened this year 
in unusual perfection. You kuow we are so 
much further south than you that we greet the 
best half of the year at least a month earlier 
than you do in your mountain home. 
What dreams we used to dream up among the 
rocks, just back of your father’s house ; and 
what visions of beauty we could see as we 
looked off far over the valley into the luxuriant 
cloud-land. We don’t see the sunsets here in 
half their perfection, as you do, and that is all 
I can regret in my dear little home. Only a 
mile away lies the sea, and dowu there on the 
crisp, gray sand 1 take my evening strolls. Rob¬ 
ert generally finds time to go with me,—for if 
he has any other thought, there iu the seclusion 
of his quiet study, I drop iu upon his happy 
labor with a pleading smile that wins him at 
any time. The time has never come yet, dear 
Madge, when we have tired of one another; 
fruition is still sweeter than was the desire, and 
I doubt whether you could Imd ft more content¬ 
ed, harmonious home circle than ours on moun¬ 
tain or in valley. 
My husband is a devoted pastor, and I own 
one of my sincercst pleasures is in working 
■with him for our people. Our little church 
stands just beyond the house in the shadow of 
a beautiful grove, where birds sing their exqui¬ 
site songs, and the cool winds chant among the 
branches. 
That is Claire’s favorite retreat; she will 
wander there, listening to the v\ind for hours; 
she says it comes fresh from the sea, and always 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 25 letters. 
My 0. 2,14, 21,16 is the Capital of one of the U. 8. 
My 18, 4. 8,17 is a river in England, 
My 22,15.18 is a eca west of Asia. 
My 3,10. 20. 26 16 a city in Pern. 
My 1,7, 6,18 is one of the West India Islands. 
My 5.17,12, 24,19 Is the capital of a country in Asia. 
My 11, 23, 25, 5 is a country in Asia. 
My whole is a historical fact. 
Delhi, N. Y. Artemus. 
83^" Answer In two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
QUESTION. 
A LAWYER’S ODE TO SPRING. 
There are two numbers such that X the greater 
added to yi the lesser is 13, and X the lesser taken 
irom X the greater the remainder is nothing. 
East Troy, Wis. L. D. Sawyer. 
Answer in two weeks. 
Whereas, on certain boughs and sprays. 
Now divers birds are heard to sing, 
And certain flowers their heads upraise: 
Hail to the coming on of spring! 
The song of those said birds arouse 
The mem’ry of our youthful hours— 
As green us those said sprays and boughs, 
As fresh aud sweet as those said flowers. 
The birds aforesaid—happy pairs I— 
Love "mid the aforesaid boughs enshrines 
In freehold nest, themselves, their heirs, 
Administrators &Dd assigns. 
Oh 1 busiest term of Cupid’s court. 
Where tender plaintiffs action bring— 
Season of frolic and of sport— 
Hail, as aforesaid, coming spring. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ANAGRAMS OF STATES. 
Aid an in, 
Nest en see, 
Slave in a pynn, 
Horn cat in a rol, 
Hang Cimi, 
Sin now sic, 
Oneida Co., N. Y. 
g'vy" Answer in two weeks, 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, Ac., IN No. 908 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Send for the 
Rural. 
Answer to Anagram: 
Youth is the time we would be bleet 
With God’s peculiar 6mile; 
The time the most approved and best 
To learn His sovereign will. 
Answer to Anagrams of LakesSeneca, Patos, 
Itasca, Superior, Ontario, Champlain, Great Slave, 
Mattapedica. 
A little three-year old in Sontb Boston was 
considerably excited the other day by seeing the 
cat kill a mouse. The next day she asked her 
mother suddeuly:—“ Who made the birdies?” 
“ God made them, my child.” “Who feeds the 
birdies, mamma?” “God feeds them.” “Mam¬ 
ma, who made the mice ?” she continued. “ God 
made them.” The little one was thoughtful a 
moment, and then asked, energetically:—“ Does 
God keep a cat?" The mother told her she 
would tell her all about it when she got older, 
but for the present she had better go play with 
her new India-rubber doll. 
TUB LABGBST - Cl HCULATIN G 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
IS PUBLISHED EVBBY SATURDAY 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Several of our exchanges, in publishing the 
following paragraph, print the name of the poet 
“ Wadsworth,” thus indicating an igrioranceof 
the subject equal to that which it is intended to 
ridicule: 
Soon alter the death of Wordsworth, a man 
met a farmer ef the neighborhood, and said to 
to him: “ You have had a great loss.” “ What 
loss?” “Why, you have lost a great poet.” 
“Off! ay,” said the farmer, “he is dead, but I 
hev no doubt his wife’ll carry on the business 
and make it as profitable as iver it was.” 
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A N. WOOD & CO., Eaton, Madison 
• County, N. Y.. continue to manufacture their 
Improved Portable Engines, 
Frem 1 to 35 horse-power, for Farm and Mechanical pur¬ 
poses. Thev are particularly adapted to driving Thresh¬ 
ing Machines, Circular Saws, Mills of .ill kinds. Printing 
Presses. Wood or Iron Lathes, Machinery In Cabinet or 
Wagon Shops, Boring Artesian Wells. Pumping Wnier, 
Corn-Shellers, tic,, &c. We. warrant oar Kng'nes to be 
what we represent them, and to give unuuaufled satis¬ 
faction In all resnecte. A. N. WOOD <fc CO. 
A friend asked a pretty child of six years old, 
“ Which do you love best, your cat or your 
doll ?” The little girl thought some time be¬ 
fore answering, and then whispered in the ear 
of the questioner, “1 love my cat best, but 
please don’t tell my doll.” 
“ Have you not mistaken the pew, sir ?” 
blandly said a Sunday Chesterfield to a stranger 
who entered it. “ I beg pardon,” said the in¬ 
truder, rising to go out, “ I fear I have; I took 
it for a Christian’s.” 
A new author asked an editor his opinion of 
his books. The answer was, “ I have found a 
great deal of good and original matter in them ; 
but what was good was not original, and what 
was original was not good.” 
Little girls believe in the man iu the moon 
—big girls believe in a man in the honey-moon. 
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