MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY JOURNAL. 
Vertical 
THE PRAYEE OF THE BETROTHED. 
A LADTf in the St. Ix)uls Union, over tlie eignature of 
Inez, po/traya her thoughts in Uie following beautiful ver¬ 
ses, on the eve of her marriage : — 
Father, I come before Thy Uironc, 
With low and bended knee. 
To tliank with a grateful tone. 
For all Thy Ix)vc to me. 
Forgive me, if my lieart this hour, 
1 give not all to Thee, 
For deep affection’s mighty power, 
Divides it now with Tlice. 
Thou knowcBt, Father, every thought 
That wakes wiUiln my breast, 
And how this heart has vainly sought 
«. To keep its love suppressed. 
But when the idol, worshiiMxl one. 
Sits fondly by my side, 
And breaths the vows I cannot shun, 
To me, his destined bride — 
Forgive me, if the loving kiss 
lie leaves upon my brow. 
Is thought of in an hour like tliia, 
And thrills me even now. 
He’s chosen me to be his love 
And comforter through life ; 
Knable me, oh God, to prove j 
A loving, faitliful wife. 
He knows not, Father, all the de<fp I 
Affections I control— j 
The thousand loving tlioughtt that sweep j 
Resistless o’er my soul. j 
He krwws not each deep fount of love 
That gushes warm and free ; 
Nor can he ever, ever prove 
My warm Idolotry 
Then guard him, Fatlier—round his way i 
Thy choicest blessings cast. 
And render each successive day 
Still happier than the last. 
And, Father, grant us so to live, 
Tliat when this life is o’er 
Within Uie happy home you give, 
We’ !1 meet to part no more. 
literarij aiib 
LUCY WENDELL. 
A STORY OF REAL LIFE. 
BY MISS SEDGWICK. 
“ I AM going round by Broad street, to 
inquire of Boss, the Glover, about little Lu¬ 
cy Wendell.” 
“Lucy Wendell—who is she?” 
“ She is a pretty little Dutch girl, who 
lived opposite me, in that little bit of a 
dwelling, that looks like a crack between 
the two houses on each side of it She liv¬ 
ed with her grand-parents, natives of this 
city, and once proprietors of many a lot 
within it; but they had been outwitted and 
outbargained, till they were reduced to this 
little tenement, some twenty feet by fifteen. 
Their only surviving descendant, was my 
little friend Lucy, a pretty, fair-skinned, fair¬ 
haired, blue-eyed girl, of a most modest, 
quiet and engaging demeanor. For many 
months after we moved to State street, I 
knew nothing of the family; but from such 
observations as my eye could take, neatness 
was the ruling passion of the household.— 
Their only servant, Minerva —the Goddess 
of Wisdom would have known better- 
used to scrub the house weekly from gar¬ 
ret to cellar; their only carpet was shaken 
every Saturday, the steps were scoured dai¬ 
ly, and I never in my life saw the old wo¬ 
man without a dusting cloth in her hand. 
Such a war of extermination did she carry 
on against the intruding particles, that my 
friend E-used to say it must be hard 
for her to think of turning to du.st. 
“ Lucy had no visitors—no companions; 
and the only indulgence of the old people, 
was sitting on the stoop every pleasant af¬ 
ternoon, according to the ancient Dutch 
custom. She never went out except on 
Sunday to church; then she reminded me 
of one of those bright pretty flowers that 
hung upon the cragged, bare stems of the 
cactus. I pitied her; her spring of life 
seemed passing away so drearily. My pity 
was misapplied; and I felt it to be so when 
I looked into her sweet countenance, and 
saw there the ^^impress of that happiness 
which certainly flows from duties religious¬ 
ly performed. It is a great matter Grace, 
to have your desires bounded within your 
station, to be satisfied with the quiet, unno¬ 
ticed performance of duties which Provi¬ 
dence has allotted you, and not to waste 
your efforts or strength, in seeking to do 
good, or to obtain any pleasure beyond your 
sphere. This is true wisdom, and this was 
Lucy Wendell’s. At last there came to 
this obscuri! dwelling what comes to all— 
death and its changes. The old man and 
his wife died within a few days of each oth¬ 
er, of the influenza, that then raged in this 
city. The hope of serving the poor orphan 
induced me to go to the house; she receiv¬ 
ed me gratefully, and as an old friend; for 
though we had never exchanged a word, 
yet there had been an interchange of kind 
looks and friendly nods, those little civilities 
that bind even strangers together. On in¬ 
quiry into affairs, T found that she had been 
left almost penniless, but a kind and discreet 
friend had procured a place for her in Ross’s 
glciV^c factory, Lucy was skilled in all the 
arts and handicraft of the needle. Ross, it 
seems, is a very thriving tradesman; and, 
from the very warm recommendation, which 
wi^^ lacy’s friend, he had promis¬ 
ed'j(Q ,b6ar^i,her iq his family, and allow her 
sufficient compensation for her labor. 
“ In a few days she removed to her new 
home. It is now fifteen months since she 
left our street She came once to tell me 
that she was perfectly satisfied with her 
place, and since then I have heard nothing 
of her. Do not look so reprovingly, my la¬ 
dy mentor; I have been intending to call at 
Mr. Ross’s to make inquiries about her. My 
story has brought me to the shop. ‘ John 
Ross, Glove Manufacturer.’ This must be 
the place. Stop, one moment Grace, and 
look through llie window; that man, no 
doubt is Ross himself. What a fine head! 
You might know such a man Yvould suc¬ 
ceed in the world, lot his lot be what it 
would. He would have made a resolute 
general, a safe statesman, but here he is, 
an honest thriving glover, and that per¬ 
haps, is just as good. Nothing truer than 
the trite old couplet— 
“ Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
Act well your part, tliere all the honor lies.” 
“ The old man looks as if he might be a 
little tyrannical, though Heaven grant that 
poor Lucy may not have suffered from that 
trait in his physiognomy. 
“ The only customer is coming out; now 
we have a clear field—let us go in.” 
“ Mr. Ross, I believe ? ” 
“ The same, ma’am.” 
“I came, Mr. Ross, to inquire after a 
young woman who came to live with you 
last Christmas.” 
“ I have had a great many young women 
living with me, ma’am.” 
“ The old man’s humor requires me to 
be explicit” 
“ Her name, Mr. Ross, was Lucy Wen¬ 
dell.” 
“ Ah, Lucy Wendell did come in the fac¬ 
tory about that time.” 
'riiere Avas an expression in Ross’s face 
at the mention of her name, that might be¬ 
tide evil of Lucy. 
“ I merely wished to know, Mr. Ross, 
whether Lucy had given satisfaction, and 
whether she still remained with you? ” 
“Were you a friend to Lucy Wendell, 
ma’am ? ” 
“ I should think it an honor to call my¬ 
self so, but I could hardly claim that name. 
She was my neighbor, and interested mo by 
her correct deportment, and uncommon du¬ 
tifulness to her old parents.” 
Ross made no reply, but fumbled over 
some gloves that were on the counter, then 
tied up the bundle and laid it on the shelf. 
“ You seem, Mr. Ross, dispo.sed not to 
answer my question. I am afraid some ac¬ 
cident has happened to the poor girl.” 
“ Would you like to know, ma’am, Avhat 
has happened to her ? ” 
“ Certainly I would.” 
He leaned his elbow on his desk, and 
seemed about to begin a story. 
“ Well, you know when Lucy Wendell 
came to me she was a little demure thing 
—not a beauty, but so comely, and so tiny, 
that she was a pretty resting place for the 
eye, old or young. She was as great a con¬ 
trast to the other girls in the workshop, as 
white is to black. She just sat quiet in one 
corner and minded her work, and took no 
part in their gabbling. You know what a 
parcel of girls arc, ma’am, dinging away 
from morning till night, like forty thousand 
chimney swallows. Lucy was very differ¬ 
ent; she made herself neat and tidy in the 
morning, and did not lose half-an-hour at 
noon, when the ’prentice boys were coming 
to dinner, twitching out curl papers, and 
furbelowing her hair. The boys and girls 
used to make jokes about her, and call her 
the little parson; but she only preached in 
her action.s, and that is what I call practi¬ 
cal preaching, ma’am; she was a little mas¬ 
ter workman at her needle. I never had 
a match for her since I began business; 
but (you know there is always a but in this 
life,) she gave me great offence. She 
crossed me Avhere I could least bear to be 
crossed.” 
“ Not intentionally, I am sure, Mr. Ross.” 
“ You shall hear, ma’am. I have an on¬ 
ly son, John Ross, a fine, fresh-looking, 
good-natured, industrious lad. I set my 
heart on his marrying his cousin Amy 
Bruce. She is the daughter of my young¬ 
est sister, and a pretty fortune in hand, 
enough to set John up in any business he 
fancied. There was no reason in the world 
Avhy he should not like Amy. I had kept 
my wishes to myself, because I know that 
young folk’s love is like an unbroken colt, 
that will not heed spur nor bit. I never 
mistrusted that anything was going wrong 
till one day I heard the girls making a great 
wonderment about a canary bird they had 
found when they went in the morning into 
the workshop, in a cage hanging over Lu¬ 
cy’s seat; and then I remembered that 
i John had asked for five dollars the day be¬ 
fore, and when I asked what he wanted it 
for, he looked sheepish, and made no an¬ 
swer. I thought it prudent, before matters 
went any farther, to tell John my wishes, 
ma’am. I have taken care, for the most 
they should be reasonable. I am a little 
wilful, I own it, but it’s young folks’ busi¬ 
ness to mind; and ‘ children obey your pa¬ 
rents,’ is the law of both Scripture and na¬ 
ture. So I told John, I did |^not hint any 
suspicions about Lucy, but I told him this 
marriage with his cousin he could have no 
objection to, what I had long set my heart 
upon, and what he must set about without 
delay on peril of my displeasure. He was 
silent, and looked downcast; but he saw’ 
that I was determined, and I saw a light in 
the workshop after the usual time; I went 
to inquire into it. I had my slippers, and 
my step made little or no noise. The up¬ 
per part of the door was set with glass.— 
I saw Lucy finishing a pair of gloves, my 
son was standing by her. It appears they 
were for 'him, and he insisted upon her try¬ 
ing them upon his hand. Hers, poor thing, 
seemed to tremble. The glove would not 
go on, but it came off, and their hands met 
without gloves, and a nice fit they were.— 
I burst in upon them. I asked John if this 
was his obedience to me, and I told Lucy 
to quit my service immediately. 
“ Now the whole matter is passed, I must 
do John the justice to say he stood by her 
like a man. He had given his heart and 
promised his hand to Lucy, and she owned 
she loved him—him who was not Avorthy 
of her love. He said, too, something of my 
being a kind father, and a kind man; and 
he would not believe that the first of my 
doing wrong would be to the orphan girl 
whom Providence had placed under my 
roof. Ma’am, you wonder that I had hard¬ 
ened my heart to all this, but you know 
that anger is a short madness, and it is, and, 
besides, there is nothing makes us deaf to 
reason and true feeling, as the strong sense 
we are willfully doing wrong. I was harsh, 
and John lost liis temper, and Lucy cried 
and was too frightened to speak; it ended 
by my telling Lucy she must not stay an¬ 
other day in my house, and John, if he did 
not obey me, my curse should be upon him. 
“ The next morning they had both clear¬ 
ed out: and everybody thought they had 
gone off" to be married, and so I believed, 
till at night, when John came in, and, like 
a distracted man, said he had been all day 
seeking Lucy, in vain; that the only friend 
she had in the city knew nothing of her; 
and when I answered ‘ So much the better,’ 
he accused me of cruelty, and then follow¬ 
ed high words, such as noA’er should pass 
between the father and son, and it ended in 
my turning him from my door. I do not 
Avonder you turn away, but hear me. Sat¬ 
urday night, three days after, John came 
home an altered man. He was as humble 
as if he only had been Avrong. He begged 
pardon, and promised to obey me in all 
things but marrying Amy Bruce. ‘ I give 
up Lucy, father,’ said he, ‘but I cannot 
marry anybody else.’ I forgave him from 
the bottom of my heart, and I longed to 
ask him to forgive me, but I have not come 
to that yet I asked him Avhat had brought 
him back to duty. He put into my hands 
a letter he had received from Lucy. She 
had persevered in not seeing him—but such 
a letter, ladies! If ministers could speak 
directly to the heart there Avould be no sin 
in the world. She said she knew she had 
deserved to suffer for carrying matters so 
far without my knowledge. She spoke of 
me as the kindest of fathers, and the kind¬ 
est of masters. Then she said she should 
never haA’e any peace of mind until she 
heard Ave Avere reconciled; and told him it 
would be in vain for him to seek her, for 
she had solemnly resolved never to see him 
again. The paper Avas blistered Avith tears, 
from top to bottom; but saving and except¬ 
ing tliat ma’am, there Avas nothing from 
Avliich you could guess Avhat it cost her to 
write the letter. 
“I could not stand it; my heart melted 
within me; I found her that very night, and 
without loss of time, brought her back 
home, and then,” added he, Avalking hasti¬ 
ly to the further end of the shop, and throw¬ 
ing open the door that led into a back par¬ 
lor, “there ma’am is the long and short of it.” 
And there was one of the most touching 
scenes of human life.—My pretty, dutiful 
friend become a wife and mother; her in¬ 
fant in her arms, and her husband sitting 
beside her, watching the indications of in¬ 
telligence and loA'e in its little face. Such 
should be the summer of happiness, when 
the spring is consecrated to virtue. 
SUCCESS IN LIFE. 
Mbs. a.—“D ear me, Mrs. K., I wonder 
how your Johnnie did sae ill in the same 
shop you did sae weel in ? ” 
Mrs. K.—“ Hoot, AA’oman, it’s nae Avon- 
der at a’.” 
Mrs. A.—“Weel, how did it happen?” 
Mrs. K.—“I’ll tell you hoAv it happened. 
Ye maun ken, when Tam and me began to 
merchandise, we took paritch, night and 
morning, and kail to our dinner—when 
things grew better, Ave took tea to our 
breakfast. A-weel, woman, they aye mend¬ 
ed, and we sometimes coft a lamb-leg for 
a Sunday dinner, and, before we gae up we 
sometimes coft a chuckie—we were doing 
sae weel. Noo, ye maun ken, Avhen John¬ 
nie began to merchandise, he began at the 
chuckie first” 
WiiAT female recluse is that whose name 
read backwards and forwards, is the same ? 
—Nun. What lady-like designation is that 
which is spelt backwards and forwards the 
same ?—Madam. What time is that which 
spelt backwards and forwards is the same ? 
— Noon. What portion of a young lady’s 
dress is that which spelt backwards and lor- 
wards is the same ?—Bib. What portion of 
the body is that which spelt backwards and 
forwards is the same ?—Eye. 
®untDron0 nub Iraufiing. Cnmu. 
A CHARACTER. 
One of our contemporaries of the press, 
burning Avith a fervent desire to vindicate 
the private character of a friend who had 
been nailed for the crime of sheep-stealing, 
eulogises him after the folloAving queer 
fashion. The puff is exceedingly unique 
and original in its Avay, and Ave commend it 
to the profound study of all Avho are called 
on by persons Avanting to “get a character.” 
The closing declaration is a perfect “set¬ 
tler ;” it knocks the nail on the head, and 
clinches it: 
“We have knoAvn Mr. Thomas for twelve 
years. Our acquaintance commenced with 
the great equinoctial storm which blew 
down our grand-father’s barn. At that 
time he was a young man in the prime of 
life, and Ave think, raised the best marrow¬ 
fat peas Ave ever eat. He Avas a good ma¬ 
thematician, kind to the poor, and troubled 
Avith the fits. In all the relations of hus¬ 
band, father, uncle, and trustee of common 
lands, he has folloAved the direct standard 
of duty. Mr. Thomas is, at this time, forty- 
three years of age, slightly marked Avith the 
small-pox, an estimable citizen, a church 
member, and a man of knoAvn integi-ity for 
ten years. And as to sheep-stealing, that 
he Avould have done it if he could get an 
opportunity, is Avithout the least foundation 
in point of fact Mr. ’Thomas could have 
stolen our lead pencil several time.s, and he 
didn’t do it” 
’The North Carolinian tells the following 
anecdote of an old farmer of that region, 
Avho had tried the plank road. He Avas at 
first opposed to the plank road, and thought 
it Avould be a waste of money to build it— 
But he came to Fayetteville with his wagons 
and produce, and drove some miles on it 
Wlieii he got back to Chatham our mer¬ 
chant friend asked him if he had seen the 
plank road. “Yes,” he said, “he had seen 
it” “ Well, did you drive on it ?” “ Yes.” 
“Well, don’t you think you can carry four 
times as much on it Avith a four horse team 
as on a common road ?” “ Oh yes,” says 
he, “its first rate; and it is a fact that Avhen 
the wagon got to the end of the planks and 
struck the heavy dirt road evenj horse stop- 
ped and looked around." 
Philosophy. — A love-smitten professor 
in one of our colleges, after conversing a- 
while with his dulcinea on the interesting 
topic of matrimony, concluded at last with 
the declaration, and put the emphatic ques¬ 
tion of — “ Will you have me ?” 
•“ I am sorry to disappoint you,” replied 
the lady, “ and liope my refusal will not give 
you pain. But I must ansAver, no.” 
“ Well, well, that will do, madam,” said 
her jihilosophical lover, “ and now suppose 
we change the subject." 
Sharp Boy.— “Is he alii’e?” inquired a 
little boy, the other day, as he gazed on a 
large turtle, craAvling in front of a restuar- 
ant. 
“ Alive!” exclaimed a fat gentleman, Avho 
was looking at the fat monster Avith intense 
interest, “ sartainly, sartainly, boy. - He acts 
like alive turtle, don’t he?” 
“ Why, yes, he acts like one,” answered 
the little querist, “ but I thought perhaps 
he was raakin' believe." 
Heading Mu. Botts. — A good joke is 
told of the Botts barbacue in PoAvhatan.— 
When the guest of the occasion had an¬ 
nounced, in his usual emphatic manner, 
with a knowing look at the fair portion of 
his audience, that he was a candidate for 
nothing except matrimony, an old gentleman 
in the crowd exclaimed, so that all the ladies 
could hear — “ Ah, Avell, I reckon you can 
be elected to that — it takes only one vote." 
Matrimonial Felicity.—“ My dear,” 
says Mrs. Foozle to her husband, “oblige 
meAvith $20 to-day to purchase a new dress.” 
“ Shan’t do any such thing, Agnes—^you 
called me a bear yesterday!” 
“La, love, tint Avas nothing; I only meant 
by it you Avere very fond of hugging.” 
“You are a saucy little puss, (sound heard 
like the explosion of a pistol,) but here’s a 
$50.”_ 
“ Who are yeou ?” asked a long legged 
Connecticutite, of a rather over-bearing 
conductor on the New Haven railroad. 
“I am the conductor of these cars.” 
“ And all the folks in ’em, I ’spose ?” 
“Yes.” [Shorter than pie crust] 
“Wall, I SAVOW, if that ain’t a poorty go! 
Yeou a conductor of other folks, and don’t 
know how tew conduct yourself 1 Gosh!” 
Here’s the best epigram we have seen 
in many a day:— 
Married—In Corinth, by the Rev. Solon 
Martin, Mr. Loami Hale to Miss Levina 
’Tenney, both of Corinth. 
When Solon called them man and wife, 
Ijevina raised her veil. 
And, looking in her husband’s eyes. 
Exclaimed — “Lo! am I Halx! ” 
Why is an American gold eagle greater 
than either of the kings and queens of Eu¬ 
rope ? It is larger than any sovreeign. 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt •, 
Nothing’s BO hard, but search will lind it out.' 
ASTRONOMICAL ENIGMA 
I am composed of 31 letters. 
My 1, 5, 27, 93, 31 is a constellation containing 00 stars. — 
Also, one of the signs of the zodiac. 
My 2, is a letter resembling one of the coils of the dragon. 
My 3, 0, 19 is a star in the Southern foot of Serpentarius or 
the serpent bearer. 
My 4, 20, 27, 8, 18, is one of the most beautiful constella¬ 
tions in the heavens. Itcontains two stars of tliefirst 
magnitude. 
My 5, 17, 28, 2 , 20, 2, 31 is one of the nine so called nauti¬ 
cal stars beitig used by seamen to determine their longi¬ 
tude at sea. 
My 0, 2, 21,27, 28, 1 is a constellation on the same meridi¬ 
an of Orion containing 00 stars. 
My 7, 19,8,30,2.3, 14 is a constellation distinguished by 
the reddish color and splendor of its principal star. 
My 8, 31, 13, 20, 27, 14 was a name applied to the sun by 
the ancients. . 
My 9, 27,28, 23,20 is a splendid star in llie left foot of Orion 
of the first magnitude. 
My 10, 18, 27, 24 is a star of the 3d magnitude in the con¬ 
stellation of Pegasus or the flying horse. 
My 11, 31, 15, 23, 24 , 27, 19, 25 is a small constellation 
which joined with another forms a doubie one. 
My 12, 23, 8 is a constellation in the winter hemisphere 
containing an unusual number of very bright stars. 
My 13,1!>, 30, 11 is a star of the 5th magnitude in the west 
shoulder of the centaur. 
My 14,11, 28, 1.3, 21, 21,11, 21, 27, 2, 31 is a constellation 
near Scorpio, and a sign of the zodiac. 
My 15.11, 2, 21, 2, 31 is a constellation near Orion con¬ 
taining two remarkable groups of stars called the Plei¬ 
ades and Hyades. 
My 10, 11, 20, 23 Is a small constellation of which the 
largest stars are of the 3d magnitude. 
My 17, .30, 11 is a star of the 3d maguitude in the constel¬ 
lation Scorpio. 
My 18, 2 is a star of the 4th magnitude in tlie breast of the 
centaur. 
My 19, 24, 27, 19, 18. 27, 31 is a star of the 3d magnitude 
in the constellation of Orion. 
My 20,11,3 1 ,11, 20,28, 23,30, 29,1.3 is the principal star in 
tlie head of Hercules. 
My 21, 10. 23, 21, 0 is a star of tlie .3d magnitude in the 
constellation Scorpio. 
My 22. 10, 20, 31, 2, 13, 24, 14 is a large constellation con¬ 
taining about 113 stars. 
My 23, II, 28, 20, 17 is a small constellation which joined 
with Antiorous forms a double one. 
My 24,11, 31, 11, 20, 10, 11, 28, 2, 23 is a bright star of the 
2d magnitude and tlie principal one of Serpentarius. 
My 25, 23, 7, 2, 20, 11 is a dim and cloudy appearance in 
the heavens supposed to be composed of a great num¬ 
ber of small stars. 
My 20,27, 7, 24, 11 is a constellation and signs of the zodi¬ 
ac whicli when the sun enters the days and nights are 
equal all over the world. 
My 27, 4, 15, 0 is a star of the 3d magnitude in the con¬ 
stellation Libra or tlie Balance. 
My 28, 19, 11, 15 is a constellation near the Dolphin, com- 
])osed of a nutniicr of unimportant stars. 
My 29, 17, 9, 31, 10 is a constellation of wliicli but part is 
seen containing about 90 visible stars. 
My 30, 22,1, 7, 27, 30 is a star in the constellation Orion, 
near which an aiiparent oiicning is discovered through 
which hrighter regions seem to lx; perceived. 
My 31,2,25 is one of the heavenly bodies of great service 
to the earth. 
My wdiole is a wonderful and sublime phenomenon of 
the Heavens. 
O’ Answer in two weeks. 
RIDDLE. 
VA'^e arc a couple, sharp and bright. 
And yet, when far asunder, 
W’c never aided mortal wight. 
Which may excite your wonder. 
And yet we must divided be. 
To prove of any use; 
And then you every day may see 
The wonders we produce. 
The most uncouth and shapelcBs mass 
To form full well we know; 
AVe ornament the sprightly lass. 
We decorate the beau. 
Children, you must to us apply. 
For every rolx: you wear; 
'Tis we the cut and shape supply. 
And make it debon,air. 
That pretty tr ifle too we fill, 
That’s call’d a chiffonier; 
And now if you have any skill. 
Our name you may declare. 
O’ Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS, &c. IN No. 81, 
Answer to .Miscellaneous Enigma.— Thomas Francis 
Meaoher. 
Answer to Poetical Enigma— Wheat. 
Savings Bank. 
rjAHE MONROE COUNTY SAVINGS INSTITU- 
X TION will be open daily from 19 o’clock, A. M.,to 3 
o’clock, P. M., at the Rochester Bank Building, No. 22 
lixeitange street. 
TRUSTEES: 
Everard Peck, 
David R. Barton, 
Chas. W. Dundas, 
Levi A. Ward, 
Lewis Selye, 
AVm. N. Sage, 
Wm. W. Ely, 
Alvah Strong, 
Martin Briggs, 
Daniel K Ixjwls, 
Thomas Hanvey, 
Moses Chapin, 
Ebenezer Ely, 
Amon Bronson, 
Geo. W. Parsons, 
Geo. Elwanger, 
Joel P. Milliner, 
Ephraim Moore, 
Theodore B. Hamilton, Nchemiali Osborn, 
Freeman Clark. 
EVERARD PECK, PrealJent. 
Freeman Ci.ark, Treasurer. 
Rochester, June 1, 1850. [23-tf,] 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
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Associations, published gratuitously. 
Publishing Agents, 
WHO WILL RECEIVE SUBSCRIPTIONS, AND PURN18H COPIIUi 
or THE RURAL NEW-YORKER: 
ELON COMSTOCK, Rome, N. Y. 
Mr. C. is also general agent for Oneida County. 
T. S. HAWKS, Buflhla. 
W. L. PALMER, Syracuse, N. Y. 
L R. TREMBLY, Dansville. 
O’ Also Agent for Naples and HomellsviUCv 
E. HOPKINS, Lyons, N. Y. 
BTKAM PRB88 OF A. 8TRONG A 00. 
