300 



MOORE'S RURAL NEW- YORKER: AI AGRICULTURE AID FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 



SEPT. 11. 



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LETTERS FROM OCR FARM. 



i 1 .:■) i yoa don't know jnst 

 where " Our Farm'' is, bat never mind. It ie e ome- 

 whsro between lht> Atfant lc Cout and the Rocky 

 Hoantafos — Bomewhere among hill*, and plains, 

 and valUta, under blue i-kirs and cloud shadows — 

 somewhere with plenty of tinging birds and fresh 



m plftM to bfl happy in, a place for 

 toilers, for tin k has the rich 



abundance of most lavish harvests for the first, an J 



H. ..'.-.■: ■ ., I-.!. |.]. ; l:J ;i 



drona tissues of romance for the others. 



To which of these chutes f belong, the re; 

 mn&t judge— in truth I am sort), 

 times to decide. Stern necessity would matte 

 u toiler; something higher would weave thought 

 with labor, and a thousand wooing voice: 

 eternally to dreamy Imaginings. So yon 

 wonder if you find the very threads of 

 running here and there through the sober gray of 

 truth. 



I it the- right word to use there, for noth. 

 ing is more false than that romance— as the world 

 commonly understands it— is opposed to troth, 

 These dreams and fancies have a mission of theii 

 own. It is their province to beautify daily toil, that 

 the soul may better bear the servitude in which it 

 ministers to the wants of the body. 



It fa surely well if the reaper, binding op the 

 sheaves with a weary hand, may gb 

 then amid his labor a golden grain ol ; 

 if I, gathering bitter herbs by the wayside, shall 

 Ami among them bright-lipped Dowers 

 my bosom, or throw to a fellow-laborer, that la 

 welt, too. I am no philosopher, but only one, who, 

 passing through life- with a contented heart, haa 

 found, thus far, good md ' 

 Lifting my eyes from the paper I sei 

 pictore wondroualy fair. Look with me from the 

 windiw and see If this world of ours be l 

 In the days before the flood, " wry good.' 



Yon will have to pat aside the broad leaves of 

 the morning glories • Imie, they have woven co 



oloi c ii lorMo out the n Indov — gently, 1 1 u ool 



to shake the dew out of the delicate cups with their 

 freshly tinted lips of blue, and crimson, and pale 

 v you lies the garden, with 

 iU great buds of beets and onion?, and all other 

 substantia] looking vegetables, "garden Mac*" our 

 grandmothers called them; beans running up to 

 . u 'I then throw- 

 ing vagrant tendrils out into the air i. . 

 on some neighbor, or dan^e iu th« 



jru is the little patch of melons, 



sly by the children every year, 



infrequently put slily 



youngster, long be- 



meloBj im 



watched si 

 and whose 



■ 

 fore older heads bad decided 



ripe. Then there are ine rows of currant baahea 

 along by the wall the little bunch of artichokes in 



! Lie bop viae* eovered 

 wreathes that no art can natch, the sage, and 

 " summer savory " and chamomile, and a few 

 stalks of rue, the hollyhocks and yellow sunflower?, 

 nodding over the top of the wall—. I 

 plenty of other things that are to be found iu every 

 [OOt of Ike gar- 

 den a green meadow goes stretching away, in 

 long rolling swills, to the very edge of a beautiful 

 sheet of water. Von will call it a lake, 

 the river, spread oat by the dam below, over which. 

 if you listen, yon can hear the water falling. Like 

 a crescent of sliver it lies there. T. i 

 eltarly marked by the emerald hue of the meadow. 

 «jd ih« omer by the darker tint of the forest, 

 ■ -! the brink as if the old oaks wanted 

 limps* of themselves in the water.— 

 "1 me n *»er coMBrs have stepped in before them, 

 for a line of B racefoi willows stand swaying over 

 the water, the delicate gn-en of their leavea show- 

 ing finely agamat tha darker „,<* ground of Ihe 

 ■-. very summit. 

 the sky, and below them u M , he „,„ t * ifl s 

 ida with their 

 1 all about the 

 *re moored, like 



>*nptoi«if the 



BMU of wate 





with foil 



On my table lies a relic or dry Hfe in the shape 

 of sn opera glasc. Those smooth, 

 tubes have been the death of many a chirm. In 

 years gone by I have seen many a brilliant face 

 whose beaoty shown so brightly in the com 

 room as to tempt a nearer inspection ihrough 

 truth-telling medium. " Paint '." said my opera 

 glare, aa I consulted I- " Lily white, and ronge- 

 eyebrows pencilled, sad cmh from the hsirdres- 

 ht." It fa a great tell tale, that glass of mi 

 but we will put it to a lees invidious task this mc 

 ing— for herein consists the greatest difference 

 tween nature and art, that the close examination, 

 which brings out defects and coarseness in the 

 latter, only heightens the beauty, and reveals deli- 

 cate touches never before suspected in the former. 

 Raise the glass to yonr eye and sweep the river 

 with it. Away in the distance, those brown specks 

 that you saw have suddenly grown Into wild ducki 

 coming down the river to the islands. Yon cat 

 see every motion as ihey float tlowly along, smooth 

 ing their glossy feathers In the sun, or drivim 

 down suddenly, come up again shaking the wate: 

 from their wings. There! some noise on thi 

 shore has startled them, and they rise heavily int< 

 the air, and in a few seconds are out of sight in the 

 swamps up the stream. Look at those lilies 

 your unaided eye they only show a bank of 

 ;erj but the glass shows the broad 

 and the lilies, like cups of the purest 

 alabaster, nestled among them. They 

 you almost fancy you can scent their sweet breatb, 

 your hand for them, 

 and then— the picture floats away b 

 ;ance, bearing islands, lilies and all 

 rlaas is a cheat after all— and yet some of us poor 

 nortala get oar brightest views of happiness 

 hrough such medium'. Reason of its folly, and 

 resolve against it as we will, yet it is sweet to steal 

 nr sometimes from the realities of the pre* 

 -that bring so much of toil and shadow to the 

 beat and happiest of us,— and cheat the heart 

 perfect t-rmtent by a closer view of those si 

 les, with which hope, the soul's painter, II lis the 

 ire to which we all look longingly. 'Whatever 

 heart most crave?, whether of this world or the 

 world to come, fancy brings it to our very grasp— 

 gaze, and for the moment are satisfied. True, 

 when the hands are reached most eagerly towards 

 it, the glass falls away, the picture recedes, and the 

 content, like a mirage in the desert, 

 fadeaway in the far distance; yet a memory some 

 remains in the heart to make a rainbow ob 

 many a cloud. 



— But while we have been talking, this August 

 eunshine has waxed hotter and hotter, and drank 

 up the last bead of dew. The morning glories 

 have closed their eyes, and the cows have left 

 grazing In the meadow, and stand in the water, 

 under the shadow of the woods, onii I 

 the cud, and — thinking for all you and I know to 

 the contrary. E , 



THE WIFE'S MISTAKE. 



The carriage stopped at the door, aud, in a few 

 minutes, Margaret Hale entered the apartment 

 husband sat, wholly absorbed in poring 

 over day-books and ledger?. 



"Those tiresome accounts still," she exclaimed 

 "Will you never lind time for anything but busi- 

 ness, Ralph? Have you no taste for anything be- 

 yond figures?" 



" Margaret;'' hot the sadness in the tone was un- 

 heeded, as she continued: 



" We had such a charming evening at Mrs. C.'s. 

 Captain Bill related many interesting incidents of 

 his residence in Egypt, and Mr. Warren, the fa- 

 mous young poet, read 'Maud,' and some of the 

 most beautiful passages in 'Aurora Leigh.' I most 

 read to yon aome of Homney's 'Great Thoughts 

 on Doty. 1 » 



She went hastily to her chamber for the vol- 

 ume. When she returned, her quiet entrance was 

 unheared by her husbsnd, whose pen was rapidly 

 moving over the almost Interminable columns of 

 ! i an expression of impatience, almost 

 of scorn, resting on her face, she hastily turned 



dreams of mar- 

 the, as she reached her room. "He 

 has a taste for drudgery, Hia pursuits and tastes 

 are all commonplace, and I must go from home 

 to find the sympathy I need, to find those who will 

 rith me, the boots I love, and the 

 beautiful in art, for which he has neither eye nor 

 ear. Why did he not msrry a woman who had 

 neither heart nor mind to be continually unsat- 

 lafledl" 



In the room she had left, Ralph Dale Bat, hour 

 after hour, till bis brain was weery aud eyelids 

 drooped. Then, laying aside hia books, he remain- 

 ed a long time In deep thought. 



I my Margaret," be prayed, " and give 



me etreng'h to bear all thing?. Give me power to 



■ 



Putting away all thoughts of her husband's real 



nobleneaa of character, jealously preserving the 



memory of every slight diffu'reaua ia their tastes 



Uaigtiet cherished the spirit of dis- 



U embitterfd every hour pj her life. 



and sent suffering, she had never dreamed of. to 



the heart of her husband, who would gladly have 



[y c arthly good for her happiness. 

 ^ A sudden and severe ifuesa came to her wbile 

 Rilph was in a dl.tant city. One day during her 

 alow recovery, the aged minister, who had baptized 

 her In infancy, waa sitting by her side. 

 -Margaret." he uia, af« r steadfastly watching 

 ■A " yon are unhappy. I have seen 

 it a long time. I should not recognize in yon my 

 once cheerful, happy child. May I not know what 

 great sorrow has come to you J" 

 Then, with sobs and tear*, she told birn all her 



After a short silence, the old man spoke again, 

 and there was sadness, almost sternness, in bts 

 n ago, Margaret, a wealthy New York 

 ■ a'ion, whose 

 failure suddenly took from him the accumulated 

 wi-aith of bU years of commercial enterprise 

 There were afi 



to regain wl- - J-«pondency, 



a lingering disease and death. His wife and four 



children were left penniless. The eldest child, a 

 boy of sixteen, had finished his preparatory Btodies, 

 and was about to enter college. By this stroke, he 

 foand hla prospect* for the future clouded; but, 

 with a noble self-forgetful a ess. be turned cheerful 

 ly into the way marked out for him, and walked 

 resolutely ia it. 



"He obtained a sittution with a merchant, who 

 hadkoown his father, where hia faithfolneas and 

 untiring devotion to his duties, won the confidence 

 of all who knew bim. During the lirst years of 

 her widowhood, his mother had Uught a private 

 school for the young; and it was the boy e high 

 ambition to relieve her of this necessity, and give 

 her the rest her feeble health required, 

 tell you all his privations, his willing sacrifice 

 of every rccreaiion, hia continued self-denial thai 

 be might lighten the burdens of those so dear 

 him. 



"Tear after year, success crowned his efforts. 

 In the village where hia mother bad passed the 

 years of her childhood and the first years 

 married life, he purchased a pleasant residence for 

 her, and then, a lucrative business being opened 

 to him in the West, he came here, 



"At the time of bis r^movul here, accidei 

 vealed to him the fact that the widow and invalid 

 daughter Of one whose fortune was, by biafathei 

 advice, risked in that unfortunate speculation 

 which had so changed hia 

 extreme poverty. To bin 

 the pleasant home that no 

 the delicate, thoughtful 

 comfort. 



" Now, when the 

 and disasters crowd thick and 

 upon others, his anxious thoughts turn to the 

 mother, and suffering sister, iu the little village 

 home, whose comforts depend upon him, to th 

 other lonely fireside, to which Mb constant tbo' 

 fulness imparts its only light, and to hisown hom 

 and the young wife whose happiness is dearer L 

 him than life. For this, Margaret, Ralph Hate 

 gives his daya to incessant toil, and 

 rlfices the Bocial pleasures he is so er 



" I have been in these three home?, 

 that is almost reverence, hia math 

 speak his name, and, with full hearts, thank God 

 f.rriH life— that life BO filled with the beauty 

 self renunciation. The widow aud daughter whose 

 hearts he haa made glad, tell of his namberlesi 

 acts of kindness f bi s delicate, and unceasing 

 walchfulucs?, sud daily they ask God"s blessing 



i !> ;. ;■- 



own homo, the wife whose love should 



bless him, whose gentle ministry diould comfort 



strengthen him, turns coldly from hii 



i he prefers the happiness of others 



" the pressing duties of 

 life claim all hia waking hour?, leaving him little 

 leisure for the claims of society, or for tke high 

 intellectual culture which few attain whose lives 

 ire not wholly devoted to it" 

 "Ob, Ralph, I have never known yon! I have 

 .elly misjudged you," said the weepiog wife, 

 talk poe- 



-iVit n»3 ffttttW. 



ial world is clouded, 



lenity fitted 





The old n 



continued : — " Some 

 write it in words, and 



The true heroism which poets have 

 beauty of self-abnegation uud of ooaae- 

 less devotion to duty, which have been their in- 

 spiration, Ralph Hale has lived. The woman who 

 on the deeriest love of such a heart should 

 mtly and gratefully cherish it as the richest 

 blessing of her lift." 



In the twilight of that day, Margaret was await- 

 ing her husband's return. Amid the bitter self 

 reproachings that darkened the hour, gleamed a 

 iw aud holy light, fltgher purposes were arous- 

 I within her. In the future, she would make di- 

 nely real in her life the beantifnl ideals which 

 id filled herheart with unsatisfied longings. She, 

 o, would live for others, and first of all for him 



A hnnied step in the entrance hall, then on the 

 lire, and the next moment she was clasped in her 



" Ton have been very ill," said a voice, faltering 

 with emotion, " but, thank God, you arc safe now. 

 my Margaret." 



Ob, yea, I am safe indeed now," said Margaret's 



In that hour, all was made clear between them. 

 With new resolves for the future, with a deeper 

 love for each other, and a prayer for strength, an- 

 other page of life was turned for them. 



Teats afterwards, Margaret, a proud and happy 

 wife, wrote, "I cannot tell you all ha has been to 

 me — my guide when I was ignorant, my strength 

 when I faltered, my best earthly friend, always. 

 What do I not owe yon for revealing the mistake 

 which bad almost wrecked the happiness of both. 

 — National Era. 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 



Datahd Tavion writing from Constantinople, 

 says: — "I noticed but three changes in Constanti- 

 nople frince I saw it in 18fi8— to wit:— Pera is light- 

 ed with gas, tin 1 hotels have raided their priues live 

 francs a day, and the doga of Slambonl no longer 

 bark at Giaours. In all other respects it Is the 

 same medley of unparalleled external and internal 

 filth, imperfect Curope and shabby Asia. The last 

 change of the three is undoubtedly due to the 

 wholesome training given to the dogs aforesaid by 

 the soldiers of the allied armies. It is an aston- 

 ishing fact that dogs of the most orthodox Moslem 

 breed nowtolentte the presence of the Frank with- 

 out a snarl. Moreover, St. Sophia, then accessible 

 only through the all-potent seal of (be Grand 

 Vizier, now its doors turn on their holy binges for 

 an everyday bribe. Even at the Mos<iue of Eyonb, 

 standard-bearer of Mahommcd II., I was refused 

 admission only because it was Ramazan. There is 

 a Turkish theatre in rera, Tarkish plays (adopted 

 from the Italian) are acted by Turkish actors, and— 

 oh shade of the Prophet !— Turkish women appear 

 unveiled upon the stage. Thu\ however, does not 

 signify much. Polygamy and the seclusion of 

 women are a part of the Moslem religion, and 

 with that religion dies the prestige of the race. 

 The fraternization of Turkey with the Western 

 Powers has forced her to relinquish a few anti- 

 quated prejudice —and that is alt" 



Tna shortness of bfr is very often owing to tto 



Everttuinc mns*. have altered very much in a 

 short time. Only a few years since Gen. Jacksor 

 be ng seated between two ladies, said he felt like 

 a thorn surrounded with roses. V. S. M, saya, a 

 few days ago, while riding In one of the Sixth 

 street can, and being seated between two ladles, be I X 

 felt like a stave in a hogshead of molar 

 rounded by hoops. 



A flK\'ri.sn ak was threatening to beat a dog who 

 barked intolerably. *' Why," exclaimed an Irishman, 

 ••would you beat the pool 



Tub parson who prefaced his sermon with, "Let 

 as say a few words before we begin,'' is about 

 eqnal to the chap who took a short nap before he 



I Well, Mr. Tree, if you're about 

 detain your meat,* 1 exclaimed an incensed landlady 

 to her lodger, who was slightly in arrears. 



NEW TKV; 



SPECIAL KOTKBjp 



A. S. BARNES i C 



■ 



Prof. CHAS. BUDfli. Workon.*^, 



Siton-D you be talking to a thin lady, of another 

 thin lady, you need not describe the party alluded 

 to as a "scraggy old maid." 



TnB phrase, "lighting on hia own hook," is 

 now more elegantly rendered— "waging war upon 

 the individuality of hia personal on v 



advertisement!!. 



I!';,": 



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TIT ANTED.— An Ac.et-t in ■■'.. ry r\„ m l> to tni^c iu Itw 



1* i- l. II J II. 1. 1 I rl II IM '.Ui|;„, 



To Nurserymen and Dealers m Trees. 



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Nurserymen and Fruit Tree Agents! 



186 VARIETIES OF COLOBED FRUITS. 



NU. m-HlHl! : 



■ . awahfcfcKT*. 



BOARDMAN, CRAY & ^to~~ 



MtMFAL'TIKMS 111.' PIANO | oilTES, 



1VE IKON FRAMlV 





■'! Bcmodina-Boaeia 



U. S. Tent and Plug Mam 



E raouJS S no SH,NOLE MACH,NE : 



MODEL .llOCUTILE COLLEGE, 



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. .., |inni.-u.l:.r„. I I,, I |..,if|„ ill ,, |.. I,. I: ,. , 



*■■ «- I \>-l WAN 



Vrli 



100,000 Wilson's Albany Strawberry 



Oneida County Agricultural Society. 



OMPETITION OPSH 



COLLEGIATE INSTITUTE. 



J. K DEXTKK, A. M. Pitoctpid 





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■'.'■'. <■■ W .:,■. K ,, ,„,.... „, ,- 



ANDRE LEROY'S 



Nurseries at 

 ANGERS. FRANCE. 



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taaUcBAjwa. A «^ BRrorTER*. 5c T f rt. 



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MOORE'S RURAL KEW-' I 



jl grim It urn 1, I4(rrar> mid Family Kc-W»p«pcT, 

 O. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. V. 



OflSce, Union Baildings, Opposite the Conrt House, 



