I'itbks' 
THE BETROTHED. 
A OEM JT THE L.4TH AT.I«E CART. 
[The following is ft copy of an autograph poem of 
Alice Caky’s. never imMIshed in any collection of 
her versos. Il was written In 1450, at Mount I’lcas- 
ant, Ohio, whore the poetess then Uvod.J 
1 haty. noted us they bid mo, he said that lio was 
blest, 
And the sweet soul of betrothal oa my forehead has 
been prest; 
But my heart gave back no ooho to the rapture Of 
his bliss. 
And the hand he clasped so fondly was less tremu¬ 
lous than his. 
They pralso Ills lordly beouty, and I know that he Is 
fair. 
Oh, I always loved the color of Ills sunny eyes and 
huir! 
And though my bosom may have held a happier 
heart than now, 
1 have told him that I loro him, and I must not 
break the vow. 
He called me the fair lady of a castle o’er the seas, 
And I thought about a cottage nestled In among the 
trees; 
And when my cheek beheath his lip burned not, nor 
turned aside. 
1 thought how once a lighter kiss had left it crimson- 
dyed. 
What care 1 for the windharps breathing low among 
the vines, 
1 better love the swinging of the sleety mountain 
pines j 
And to track the timid rabbit In the snow-shower as 
1 list. 
Thau to ride his coal-black hunter with the hawk 
upon uiy wrist. 
And 1 fain would give the grandeur of the oukon- 
slmdowod lawns, 
And the dlmly-stretchlng forost where tho rod roe 
lends her fawns. 
To gather the thistle and tho fennel’s yellow bloom, 
Whore frowning turrets cumber not the path with 
gorgeous gloom. 
Let them wreath the bridal roses with my tresses as 
they may, 
There are phantoms In my bosom that cannot keep 
uwuy; 
To my heart as to a banquet, they are crowding, pale 
ami dread. 
But I told him that 1 loved him, and it cannot he 
unsaid. 
SWEET BEIAE'S TEOUBLES. 
BY MARY C. BARTLETT. 
As T sill comfortably toasting my feet be¬ 
fore l )hi gntlo Hie oilier morning, and turn¬ 
ing over the pages of the last Rural New- 
Yorker in search of something from the 
wise pen of Mr. Lead Pencil, whoever lie 
may be, two icy hands were thrust under my 
chiu, and looking up 1 beheld the merry 
dimples and sad eyes that so strangely con¬ 
tradict each oilier, hi the face of my young 
friend, Sweet Briar. 
“ Happiest of women,” she exclaimed, as 
she threw herself with an air of infinite 
satisfaction on the rug before the genial 
coals ; *' would that 1 might ever hope to at¬ 
tain to the bliss of a lire in September. I 
wonder, now, if such felicity might not he 
obtained by marrying somebody us bony and 
billions as myself-—old Mr. Skinner, for 
instance. 1 am sure, as I passed him on the 
road I caught a glimpse of a kindred spirit 
in the blueness Of Ills nose, and the depth to 
which his ears were buried in his coal collar. 
Next year being leap year, I shall mean¬ 
while take into consideration the practica¬ 
bility of offering myself to him. Jesting 
aside, though, my dear friend, under the ex¬ 
isting circumstances of a bony frame, torpid 
liver, cold weather and no fire, life is fairly a 
burden to me. Aunt IIeppy and Uncle 
S 11 .AS, each, as you know, covered to the 
depth of several inches with superfluous 
flesh, and each the happy possessor of a 
biliary apparatus tliat is unimpeachable, are 
fairly jubilant over this cool, bracing weather . 
You might as well propose to them the most 
absurd thing a lively imagination could con¬ 
ceive, as to suggest putting up stoves before 
November. 
“ Every day the house is set open from top 
to bottom to let in the warm (?) air, while 
wretched L wander shivering from room to 
room, shorter by at least two inches, which 
is needless, and finding a sickly gleam of 
comfort only in my own little sanctum, 
studying and writing with my feet in the sun 
and a big shawl arouud me. * Stir round,’ 
Aunt Heppy says, ‘and get your blood 
warmed up.’ Don’t 1 try it ? Don’t 1 shake 
ami beat and pommel the unoffending beds, 
as though in defence of my own life? Don’t 
I nearly Bweep my arms off, indifferent to 
Aunt IIeppy’8 remarks about ‘near-sighted 
folks leaving the dust in streaks,’ in my 
frantic efforts to 1 get up the circulation T 
And how long does the pleasing, glow lust, 
pray ? Just five miuutes by the cluck, and 
then the dreadful shivering returns with re¬ 
doubled vigor. Sometimes, to be sure, I 
thaw nij’self out for an hour on the sunny 
hack piazza, but then conscience pricks for 
the lime lost, and the house seems colder 
than ever by contrast. 
“ Di the evening, when I light the lamps 
and draw out the table before the empty 
stove-pipe hole, and venture to indulge n 
hope that the closed doors and windows will 
keep in the little warmth generated by the 
lamps and ourselves, Uncle Silas will enter, 
glowing hum a brisk wulk, with a 4 Phew, 
Heppy, it’s close in here.’ Then up will go 
a window, out mv cherished warmth, and 
when at bed time I seek my ‘ downy couch’ 
it is with benumbed feet and chattering 
teeth. Not oven ouo iron may I heat for a 
comforter, much less my winter allowance of 
three; for fat, economical, old, black Jane 
‘ don’t see no use keepin’ fire in for 1111 lb in,' 
and accordingly lets it out after dinner and 
hoi Is the kettle with chips t Then half tho 
night is spent in a fruitless effort to ‘got 
warm,’ till at last, when completely worn 
out, sleep kindly comes to make me oblivi¬ 
ous for a sweet brief space to horrors of that 
season, which some poetical person has 
called ‘ the twilight of ihe year.’ No, my old 
Mentor, don’t old Mr. Skinneu and a fire 
seem bliss beside such a life 11 a ibis? 
,l I am almost forced to admit they do, 
Sweet Briar,” I answured, laughing; but 
let us hope yon will not be reduced to that 
extremity. Suppose I write your griefs to 
ihe dear old Rural —the confidant of all the 
troubled Marthas and Peters in tin: land. 
Perhaps when Aunt Heppy and Unde Silas 
see them in print, they will be sensible aud 
unselfish enough to put up at least one stove, 
that you may have a fire wheneoor it is cold, 
whether in December or July. 
New Jersey, Sept., 1871. 
-- 
THE ELDEE SISTEE. 
There is no character in the home 
circle more useful and beautiful than a 
devoted elder sister who stands side by 
side with the toiling mother, lightening all 
her cares and burdens. How beautifully 
the household machinery moves on with 
such efficient help! Now she presides at 
the table in her mother’s absence, always so 
nciilly attired that it is with pride and pleas¬ 
ure the father introduces her to his guest as 
“ our oldest daughter.” Now she takes a 
little troop with her into the garden and 
amuses them, bo mother may not. be dis¬ 
turbed in her work or her rest. Now she 
helps the boys over their hard lessons, or 
reads father’s paper aloud to rest bis tiled 
eyes. If mother can run away for a few 
days’ recreation, she leaves home without 
auxiety, for Mary will guide the house wise¬ 
ly and happily in her absence. But in the 
sick room her presence is an especial bless¬ 
ing. Her baud is next to mother’s own in 
gentleness and skill. Iler sweet, music can 
charm away pain, and brighten the weariest 
hours. There are elder sisters whose pres¬ 
ence is not such a blessing in the house. 
Their own selfish ends and aims arc the 
main pursuits of life, and anything that 
stands in (lie way of these is regarded with 
great impatience, Such daughters are no 
comfort to a mother’s heart. Which kind 
of an elder sister are you in the household ? 
“AND NOW KISS ME.” 
A very pretty and exceedingly modest 
young lady, the oilier morning, stepped into 
a well-known music store to make some 
purchases, and was waited upon by an 
equally modest clerk. Throwing back her 
veil, the lady said:— 11 1 want * Ruck Me to 
Sleep.’ ” Procuring the music, the young 
gentleman laid it before her. “ Now,” said 
the young lady, ‘‘I want the Wandering 
Refugee." The clerk bowed, am.l ibis was 
also produced. “ And now,” exclaimed the 
purchaser, with a bewitching smile, “ Kiss 
Me.” The unfortunate youth gazed iu mule 
astonishment. “ Wh—what did you say 
Miss?” he at length found words to ask. 
“ Kiss Me 1” “ I ca—can’t do it,” he gasped 
iu agony ; I never kissed a young lady in 
my life.” The veil instantly dropped, and 
the would he purchaser, hurriedly laying the 
music on the counter, took a hasty depart¬ 
ure, The clerk only recovered after a 
somewhat spirited explanation with the pro¬ 
prietor, but hereafter, the new composition, 
“ Kiss Me,” will be conspicuously posted at 
the entrance of the establishment. 
-*--*-*- 
ANEGD0TE OF MES. SIDDONS, 
The London Times tells the following of 
Lire great English actress of the past:—-Mrs. 
Siddous was a lady’s maid, I believe, to the 
dutchess of Ancaster, a relation of the Great* 
heads. She was at Guy’s cliff when j’oung 
Greathead broke hia leg. He was a remark¬ 
ably clever boy, and tlie duchess’ maid, for 
bis amusement during the tedious hours of 
his recovery, used to read Slmkspeare to 
him. The boy was delighted, and insisted 
upon Siddous going down to the drawing 
room to read before the duchess and the 
party staying at the bouse. Her grace re¬ 
monstrated. She had no idea of her maid 
being brought so prominently forward ; but 
the boy would not be refused. He was furi¬ 
ous at the denial, and with more zeal, per¬ 
haps, than discretion, he retorted upon his 
noble relative in these words :—“ My lady 
duchess, Siddous is cue of God Almighty’s 
nobles, and that is mor« than your grace 
can say for yourself.” 
- 
Faith wins the battles of life, Hope beau¬ 
tifies them, and Charity makes them im¬ 
mortal. 
or 1) 
G~) 
Doititg jPtojdc. 
BUSY LITTLE FINGERS: 
Dedicated to my Little Two-Year-Old. 
BY ROSE aERAXnJM. 
In'td mamma's basket, ranging till her pieces— 
Hunting up ilia ruffles, smoothing out their creases ; 
With the nicest clothes-brush, sweeping up tho 
ashes— 
Finding out my flower seeds — ’fro’ing ’way tho 
trashed. 
Climbing on the table- fixing all my papers. 
Keeping off the scolding with such funny capers, 
Falling on the carpet—getting sadly bruised,— 
Was a darling baby over so ubusod t 
" Kisses I” will they euro It ? One, two, three, four 
—there! 
Tasteful little lingers busy with my hair. 
Cunning Utile sundown .M a (HUE bird must wear it 
"Way out to tho apple-true.” Darling, mustn’t 
tuur It. 
Full t hree minutes absont. “ What has she been 
doing 
Trashing hat ami rlbhgus—starching them anil bluing! 
Oh, the naughty darling I "Tired babie!” ain’t 
her'/ 
Mumuui'd be un artist long enough to paint her. 
Dainty head Is drooping —“ rock and sing ‘bye 
liable;’” 
One Uuy’s mischief ended, she is dreaming— maybe. 
A LITTLE KING, 
And His Trials and Troubles. 
“ I believe,” said our little Gretclien, 
“ that a king dresses in silk mid velvet every 
(lay. He can cut wlnit he likes, he can drive 
out in pleasant weather, lie can go Lo the 
theater, and his servants must bring him all 
ho asks for.” 
Ah, yes; certainly. Gretclien was right 
in some things, but not in everything. Let 
our wise Gretclien cast a glance toward a 
king’s apartment in Ihe year 1715. 
Seventeen hundred aud fifteen—llmt is so 
long ago I More than one hundred unci fifty 
years: during which many drops of min loll 
from heaven upon poor mother earth, and in 
which inrniy, many men, in different coun¬ 
tries, wept and smiled. In 1715, a beautiful 
boy, of five years nml a few months old, sat 
in a royal palace, in Ihe kingdom of France. 
The child was robed in purple velvet, be¬ 
cause he was in mourning for ills grandfath¬ 
er, Louis XIV., King of France. 
The little king, an nilruefive child, was 
seated in a magnificent apartment that was 
adorned with rare pictures, superb furniture 
and splendid carpets. 
He sat alone, at an elegant little breakfast 
table. Every delicacy that he asked for was 
there, for they brought him all lie wanted. 
No servants wore lucking; for behind the 
chair of «he little five-years’-old king, stood 
two noblemen, who waited for his com¬ 
mands. There were also many other per¬ 
sons in waiting, in another part of the room. 
Louis eat—all alone—a delicate roasted 
dove, and apricot tart, and drauk a glass of 
wine. Hu knew how to eat the dove polite¬ 
ly, but it was tedious and difficult for him 
to cut everything with a knife, so he took 
hia little royal fingers to help him. 
“ Where is my napkin?" he cried, when 
he had finished the task. “They haven’t 
given 1110 any napkin 1” ho continued. 
“Quick, quick 1 I want it 1” holding his 
hands up in the air, as if in great distress. 
The two noblemen who stood behind him 
hastened to bring him a napkin ; but they 
disputed to whom belonged the honor of 
handing it to him; and so they stood, one 
holding on one side and one upon the other, 
and Louis XV. sat crying with impatience 
and anger, because lie had Availed so long 
holding up his hands. 
A third distinguished lord who was in the 
room, but to whom the duty did not be¬ 
long, had compassion on tho little king, and 
brought a napkin to him. 
Poor, little, gentle king, that was a misery. 
“ IToav tedious it is to-day in the palace," 
said Louis XV., one afternoon ; “rviiv can¬ 
not I go out where all the other children 
are going?” lie pointed to a Crowd of ciii- 
zens and country people, gaily dressed, who 
passed by the palace with their children. 
“ Where arc they going?” inquired the 
king. 
“ To the fair at St. Germain,” was the 
answer. 
“ Then I will go there, too,” said his little 
majesty. 
Louis XV. jumped for joy, for he thought 
of the pleasure of passing the lovely day in 
the open air, and of seeing all the beautifully 
dressed children again. 
The coach, with four handsome horses, 
came to the door. They lifted the little king 
into it, and his tutor wished to follow him; 
but the Duke of M-prevented it, for he 
said that the privilege of accompanying the 
king in his carriage belonged to ldm alone. 
Then a dispute arose between the two gen¬ 
tlemen, and neither would yield. 
“ But you may both sit near me,” said the 
king. 
“YourMajesty,that will not be in order,” 
was the answer. “ The court must decide 
before we can go.” 
So Louis, who had been so childishly de¬ 
lighted with the prospect of a drive, was 
obliged to descend from the carriage, lor the 
quarrel could not be settled at once. And 
Louis XV. remained, sadly looking out of 
the window, until night came, seeing tho 
prettily dressed children coining home from 
the fair, with drums and fifes and cakes iu 
their hands, while he stood alone by the win¬ 
dow ami wept. 
The greatest misery of Louis XV. in his 
youth was his separation from Lord Do 
Fleury. His grief for his beloved friend 
aviis so intense that De Fleury was sought 
for through the whole kingdom of France, 
lie returned, anil Louis XV. was calm and 
happy again. 
You ask me, dear Gretclien, where 1 heard 
about the trials of the little king. I cannot 
tell; hut this I know, that little kings and 
great ones hava much more to bear than 
you and I have. So ho contented with your 
lot, and lot kings ride iu their carriages 
while you walk on foot. 
LETTEES FEOM GIELS AND BOYS. 
AIIIc'm Flower* ami Plnato— An Inquiry. 
Dear Mr. Editor: —1 am one of the 
many readers of your valuable paper. I 
love to read most all of it, but especially the 
letters from the yotlilg folks. I have been 
thinking of writing for some time, but 1 was 
afraid I could not write well enough. Iain 
thirteen years old. My pa died in the war 
that made so many children fatherless, I 
am an only child aud live in the country. I 
love (lowers dearly, and I have a small tlcny- 
er garden and some house plants. I have a 
tuberose that 111 a got me of Biuggs & Buo. 
L have treated il the way they tell of in the 
catalogue; it grows very thrifty, but there is 
no sign of ils blossoming. If some one 
would lell me through the Rural the cause, 
I should he very glad. Also, I should like lo 
correspond with some of the girls. I think 
it would learn [teach] us to write nearly as 
much as it does to go to school. I go to 
school most every day. Now if you think 
this good enough to publish I shall be very 
much pleased—A lme V. OLDS, Westfield, 
Ghaut. Co., iV. Y., July 11. 
A li. 1111 hum Boy'* P«t),l 
Dear Friends op the Rural: — I am 
going to try to write to you again and lell 
you about some of our pets. One day father 
found a young prairie chicken with the 
ducks. It was the same size as the young 
turkeys, so pa put it in the coop with them. 
He thought it was one of the turkeys. In a 
few days we let il out. One of the old hens 
picked it badly. We took care of it and it 
got well. It lma stayed around ever since. 
A few weeks ago a young antelope came 
here. We found it in the kitchen eating po¬ 
tatoes. If stayed here a few days and then 
the owner came after it. Perhaps some of 
ihe readers of the Rural would like to 
know what a Jack Rabbit is, so l will try 
and describe one. A full grown one is about 
twenty inches from lip to tip; the tail is 
about three inches long. They are of a 
grayish color aud have cars about five inches 
long, and they hold them straight up. They 
live on the prairie and their food is grass. I 
hope the boys won’t give up as soon as they 
write once. I mean to do my share towards 
beating the girls, and hope this Will heft).— 
F. S., Fort lhvrker, Sept. 29. 
Prom a Western New York School Girl, 
Mr. Editor: —lam a farmer’s daughter. 
Am at borne this summer. Attend school 
winters, (have not been in the summer time 
for about three years,) so that my bump of 
greenness is not us largely developed u 9 it 
might be. Intend to commence going lo 
school in about a year. Shall be seventeen 
then, at which age a great many are able to 
graduate, but from lowing been in school all 
their lives, their energy is nearly exhausted, 
aud the consequence is, poor health. Flora’s 
loiter was interesting. (By the way, Flora, 
I think l know who you are, and if you 
cannot guess who T am, perhaps your Aunt 
I E-will heft) you to.) I have never trav¬ 
eled to any extent. Went to Watkins’Glen 
three years ago, and think that anyone who 
has any admiration for the beautiful cannot, 
help enjoying it as well as I did. When I 
visited Rochester, went to hear the Orclies- 
trian, which is the grandest music 1 ever 
heard, although I have heard some which 
was very fine. But enough for now.— Mar¬ 
tha Washington W., Lyons, N. Y. 
Cnkt! Recipe, Amumn Leaven, etc. 
Dear Mr. Editor :— As I have read many 
letters in the Rural New-Yorker, aud 
like to read them very much, I thought I 
would try and write one, too. I live iu Har¬ 
ford, Susquehanna Co., Pa., two miles from 
the nearest town. I go to school a mile 
from home, buL 1 do not mind walking that 
far. I am nine years old and have a sister 
one year younger, and a little brother nearly 
two years Old Wc have a dairy and keep a 
lipund to churn ; his name is Watch. I have 
a nice recipe for cake, which I will send you. 
Two cups sugar, one cup of water, one cup 
of butter, three cups of flour, two eggs, one 
teaspoonful cream tartar, one half teaspoon¬ 
ful of soda, and salt and spice to taste. My 
sister has been gathering Autumn leaves to¬ 
day to make a wreath, and intends trying 
the recipe in the last Rural for preserving 
their color.— Ada M. A., Harford, ilusque- 
hanna Go., Pa. 
About a Itoy’n Ruili'oail. 
Dear Mr. Editor:—I always read the 
little girls’ and boys’ letters in the Rural 
New-Yorker, and have made up my mind 
that l can write one too. My lather takes 
your paper, and we all think a great deal of it, 
I think tiro most, of the pictures, and Ihoniec 
little stories for children. I was nine years 
old the first day of September. I have been 
to school through the summer, but school is 
out now, and 1 have nothing to do but to 
play, and chore for father and mother. I 
wish you could coiue out to Cuncaden and 
see the railroad that my brother Johnnie 
and I have nmdo; it is a short one—only 
runs from one end of our barn to the other. 
I can’t tell you much about il, for I am go¬ 
ing to write you a short letter this time; but 
w<‘ have lots of fun when we get our trains 
running, for we have lo tool, whistle and 
puff for them, as they rim by means of ropes 
instead of steam. I will write no more un¬ 
til I see whether you publish this or not. 
Good-by !—Willaud L. S., Caneadea, JY. Y. 
From a Cum bee Innil Mountain Girl. 
Dear Editor: —As you were so kind us 
to print the leller that I wrote a few weeks 
ago, I will write another. I lived iu New 
York until I was ton years old ; then my 
parents moved to Tennessee, where we have 
lived three years in a beautiful little Cove 
among the Cumberland Mountains. Wc 
have many curiosities here; among them 
arc large caves and waterfalls. There are 
several Northern families near us. Wo girls 
ride horseback, and 1 enjoy it very much. 
There are two schools io the Cove; the one 
I go to 1ms twenty-eight scholars. We have 
taken the Rural New-Youkeu for a good 
many years, and like it very much. We 
are Raving beautiful fall weather. I hope 
you will not think my letter too long.— 
Nettle, Grassy Gove, Cumberland Co., Tenn, 
IIow lo Urt 11 l’utcilt. 
Mu. Editor: —1 am a little boy, fifteen 
years of age, and I am anxious to know how 
much it would cost to get a machine about 
the size of a mowing machine patented. Is 
a drawing of il sufficient to send to the Pat¬ 
ent Office, or shall 1 have to get a model 
made? and if I do where can 1 gctil made? 
By answering this in your paper you will 
confer a great favor on your friend—n. w. s. 
Our young friend should write to Munn 
<Ss Co., or some other Patent Agency, for 
definite aud reliable information. 
IIow to ILcep a YVoodcliuck* 
Dear Editor: — 1 have seen in your paper 
a letter from a hoy inquiring how to keep a 
woodchuck next winter. I am eleven years 
old, live on a farm, and have had two pet 
woodchucks, and I believe the best and 
cheapest way for him would he to have ils 
hide whizzing about oxen’s ears, and Us fat 
in shoe grease by next winter. —Thomas, 
1 Vests/' 11 Pen nsylvunia. 
-- 
PEEMIUMS FOE BOYS AND GIELS. 
In answer to the inquiry of Charlie B., 
whether we were going to give Premiums to 
the Boys and Girls again, (see Rural of 
Oct. 7,) we said:—“ Yes, Charlie, we are 
going to give Premiums to the Girls and 
Boys again, and we hope all our young 
friends will go to work ami get up ciubs for 
the Rural, thus securing some niee and 
useful articles. We will print a list, in Ibis 
department of the Rural, before long, so 
that you may know just what we oiler. 
You needn’t wait for that, however, but can 
begiu lo form your clubs right away.” 
When we wrote that answer we expected 
to be able to publish quite a list of Premiums 
this week, hut it is not yet completed. How¬ 
ever, we will specify some of the articles, 
and the number of subscribers it is necessary 
to obtain to secure them. Now, Girls aud 
Boys, listen or read what follows, and you 
will hear or see that we oiler such nice and 
valuable Premiums that it will pay you well 
to “step around lively” aud form clubs of 
subscribers for next year: 
To every Boy or Girl sending 26 yearly sub¬ 
scribers for the Rural Nbw-VORKKR, and pay¬ 
ing there for ill© club rate of #3 per copy, wo will 
give a Silver Swiss Watch, Hunting Case—Prico 
$20 j or t in: same Watch for 15 subscribers paid 
for at tho single copy rate of $2.50 enoli. For 20 
subscribers 11 l $2 each, (nr 10 at $2-fi0 each,) wo 
will give a Solid UlacK Walnut Writing Desk, with 
Pearl G'eutcr, mul polished inside and out—Price 
$11. For 20 subscribers at. $2 each, (or 10 at 
$2.50 each,) one pair of Gold Initial Sleeve Huttons 
—Price $IO. For 15 subscribers at $2 each, (or 
8 at $2.50 each,) either a Gobi Finger Ring, or 
three Gold Studs, as preferred—Price of ouch $<!. 
For 15 subscribers at $2 each, (or 8lit. $ 2.60 each,) 
a Lada’s Slum Ping Rag, Grain Leather—Price 
$8. For 12 subscribers at $2 each, (or 5 at $2.50 
each,) a Pearl M<runted Photograph Album, with 
Gilt Clasps, tlfco.—Price $5. 
When completed, our list will probably 
include Napkin Rings, Gold Pens, Boys’ Tool 
Chests and Sleighs, Skates, Books and Book 
Racks, Pocket Knives, Ac., &c. All the ar¬ 
ticles offered are first claw and worth the 
prices named. 
I 
