MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YO RKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AN!) FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
tidied. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A SUMMER MORNING. 
BY HORACE 8. RUMSEY. 
With magic art the rising sun 
Now gilds the orient gates of day, 
With iris tint on clouds of dun, 
Changing the scene with each new ray. 
The ancient hills and vales between. 
Are robed anew' with shade and light; 
The lambkins gambol on the green, 
The lark, on high, now takes her flight. 
And timid flowers all pearled in dew, 
Now sip the nectar of the skies, 
While swelling buds unfold to view, 
Fresh petals which from them arise. 
The balmy zephyr from the hills, 
With health and fragrance floats along, 
And babbling brooks and murmuring rills, 
In oue sweet concert blend their song. 
And twittering swallows through the air 
In undulations rise and sink, 
While mellow.n otes are heard afar 
Of robin red and bobolink. 
The ruddy youth unto the fields 
Now hastens at the break of morn; 
The model plow with skill lie wields. 
While sounds afar the shepherd’s horn. 
The rustic maiden, where the spray 
Glistens like pearls, now wends her way, 
Culliug choice flowers whose language speaks 
Each thought that vain for utterance seeks, 
Through words which never can express 
The heart’s pure love, its tenderness; 
No, never half its worth portray,— 
Its deep and gushing sympathy. 
Now sylvan songsters ope their throats, 
Where tall trees, wide their branches fling, 
And warble forth their joyous notes, 
Making the leafy welkin ring. 
They dip their beaks in sparkling dew, 
Now thrilling flows their song again, 
The varied diapason through, 
In many a rich, enchanting strain. 
O. Nature's scenes are wild and sweet! 
And lessons sage they teach tc me, 
Of Him who clothes with garments meet, 
The hills, and vales, and waving tree. 
Then let the heart’s pure incense rise, 
While kneeling on the emerald sod, 
From earth ascending to the skies, 
“ Through Nature up to Nature’s God.” 
Elmira Water-Cure, N. Y., June, 1853. 
THE BRIDAL WINE-GLASS; 
OB, WOMAN'S FIRMNESS AND EXAMPLE. 
BY MRS. M. A. DENISON. 
“ Pledge with wine — pledge with wine,” 
cried the young and thoughtless Harvey 
Wood; “pledge with wine,” ran through 
the brilliant crowd. 
The beautiful bride grew pale — the de¬ 
cisive hour had come. She pressed her 
white hands together, and the leaves of the 
bridal wreath trembled on her pure brow ; 
her breath came quicker, her heart beat 
wilder. 
“ Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for 
this once,” said the Judge in a low tone, 
going towards his daughter, “ the company 
expect it; do not seriously infringe upon the 
rules of etiquette; in your own homo act as 
you please: but in mine, for this once, 
please me.” 
Every eye was turned towards the bridal 
pair. Marion’s principles were well known. 
Ilenry had been a convivialist, but of lato 
his friends noted the change in his manners, 
the difference in his habits — and to-night 
they watched him to see, as they sneoringly 
said, if he was tied down to a woman’s opin¬ 
ion so soon. 
Pouring a brimming beaker, they held it 
with tempting smiles toward Marion. She 
was still very pale, though more composed; 
and her hand shook not. as smiling back, she 
gracefully accepted the crystal tempter, and 
raised it to her lips. But scarcely had she 
done so, when every hand was arrested by 
her piercing exclamation of “ oh ! how ter¬ 
rible !” 
“ What is it ?” cried one and all, throng¬ 
ing together ; for she had slowly carried tlio 
glass at arms length, and was fixedly re¬ 
garding it as though it were some hideous 
object. 
“ Wait,” she answered, while an inspired 
light shone from her dark eyes, “ wait, and 
I will toll you.” “ I see,” she added, slowly, 
pointing one jewelled finger at the spark¬ 
ling ruby liquid —“ a sight that beggars all 
description ; and yet listen — I will paint it 
for you, if I can. It is a lonely spot; tall 
mountains crowned with verdure rise in 
awful sublimity around ; a river runs thro’ 
and bright flowers grow to the water’s edge. 
There is a thick, warm mist, that the sun 
seeks vainly to pierce. Trees, lofty and 
beautiful, wave to the airy motion of birds ; 
but there—a group of Indians gather; they 
flit to and fro with something like sorrow 
upon their dark brows. And in their midst 
lies a manly form — but his cheek how 
deathly, his eye wild with the fitful firo of 
fever.' One friend stands beside him—nay, 
I should say kneels ; for see, ho is pillowing 
that poor head upon his breast. 
“Genius in ruins — oh! the high, holy¬ 
looking brow ! why should death mark it, 
and he so young ? Look liow he throws 
back the damp curls ! see him clasp his 
hands ! hear his thrilling shrieks for life ! 
mark how he clutches at the form of his 
companion, imploring to be saved. Oh! 
hear him call piteously his father’s name— 
see him twine his fingers together as he 
shrieks for his sister — his only sister — the 
twin of his soul—weeping for him in his 
distant native land. 
“ See !” she exclaimed, while the bridal 
party shrank back, tho untasted wine trem¬ 
bling in their faltering grasp, and the Judge 
fell overpowered, upon his seat—“see ! his 
arms are lifted to heaven — ho prays, how 
wildly, for mercy ! hot fever rushes through 
his veins. Tho friend beside him is weep¬ 
ing; awe-stricken, the dark men move 
silently away, and leave the living and 
dying together.” 
There was a hush in that princely parlor, 
broken only by what seemed a smothered 
sob from some manly bosom, iiio bride 
stood yet upright, with quivering lip, and 
tears stealing to the outward edge of her 
lashes. Her beautiful arm had lost its ten¬ 
sion, and tho glass, with its little troubled 
red waves came slowly towards the range of 
her vision. She spoke again ; every lip was 
mute. Her voice was low, faint, yet awfully 
distinct; she still fixed her sorrowful glance 
upon tho wine-cup. 
“ It is evening now; the great white moon 
is coming up, and its beams lay gently on 
his forehead. Ho moves not; his eyes are 
set in their sockets; dim are their piercing 
glances; in vain his friend whispers the 
name of father and sister,— death is there. 
Death —and no soft hand, no gentle voice 
to bless amrsoothe him. His head sinks 
back 1 one convulsive shudder 1 hois dead! ’ 
A groan ran through tho assembly, so 
vivid was her description, so unearthly her 
look, so inspired her manner—that—what 
she described, seemed actually to have taken 
place then and there. They noticed also 
that the bridegroom hid his face in Lis 
hands and was weeping. 
“ Dead 1” sho repeated again, her lips 
quivering faster, and her voice more and 
more broken ; “ and there they scoop him 
a grave : and there, without a shroud, they 
lay him down in that damp, reeking earth. 
The only son of a proud father, the only, the 
idolized brother of a fond sister. And he 
sleeps to-day in that distant country, with 
no stone to mark the spot. There ho lies— 
my father s son—my own twin brother ! a 
victim to this deadly poison. “ Father,” sho 
exclaimed, turning suddenly, while tho tears 
rained down her beautiful cheeks, “ father, 
shall I drink it now ?” 
The form of the old Judge was convulsed 
with agony. Ho raised not his head, but in 
a smothered voice ho faltered—“!No, no, 
my child, in God’s name—no.” 
She lifted tho glittering goblet, and let¬ 
ting it suddenly fall to tho floor, it was 
dashed in a thousand pieces. Many a tear¬ 
ful eye watched her movement, and in¬ 
stantaneously every wine-glass was trans¬ 
ferred to the marble table on which it had 
been prepared. Then as she looked at tho 
fragments of crystal, sho turned to the 
company, saying, “ let no friend hereafter, 
who loves me, tempt mo to peril my soul for 
wine. Not firmer are the everlasting hills 
than my resolve, God helpidg me, never to 
touch or tasto that terrible poison. And he 
to whom I have given my hand — who 
watched over my brother’s dying form in 
that last solemn hour, and buried tho dear 
wanderer there by the river in that land of 
gold, will, I trust, sustain mo in that resolve 
—will you not, my husband ?” 
His glistening eyes, his sad, sweet smile, 
was her answer. The Judge left the room, 
and when an hour after he returned, and 
with a more subdued manner took part in 
tho entertainment of the bridal guests, no 
one could fail to read that he, too, had de¬ 
termined to banish tho enemy at once, and 
forever from his princely homo. 
Those who were present at that wedding, 
can never forget tho impressions so solemn¬ 
ly made,—many from that hour forswore 
tho social glass. 
THE BROKEN FLOWERPOT. 
A Story for the Young. 
[Pisistratus, tho young hero in tho fol¬ 
lowing extract, pushed his mother’s favorite 
flower-pot out of the window, in mischief, 
and told the truth about it.] 
From that time I first dato the hour when 
I felt that I loved ray father, and knew that 
he loved me ; from that time, too, ho began 
to converse with mo. He would no longer, 
if he met mo in tho garden, pass by with a 
smile and nod; he would stop, put his book 
in his pocket, and though his talk was often 
above my comprehension, still, somehow, 1 
felt happier and better, and less of an in¬ 
fant, when I thought over it, and tried to 
puzzle out tho meaning ; for he had a way 
of suggesting, not teaching ; putting things 
into my head, and then leaving them to 
work out thoir own problems. Not long af¬ 
ter this, Mr. Squills made mo a present far 
exceeding in value those usually bestowed 
on children ; it was a beautiful, largo domi- 
no-box in cut ivory, painted, and gilt. This 
domino-box was my delight. I was novor 
weary of playing at dominoes with Mrs. 
Primmins, and I slept with the box under 
my pillow. 
“ Ah,” said my father, one day, whon he 
found mo ranging the ivory parallelograms 
in tho parlor, “ ah, you like that better than 
all your playthings, oh ?” 
“ Oh, yes, papa.” 
“ You would be very sorry if your mamma 
was to throw that box out of the window 
and break it, for fun ?” 
I looked beseechingly at my father, and 
made no answer. 
“ But, perhaps you would bo very glad,” 
ho resumed, “ if, suddenly, one of those good 
fairies you read of, could change the domino- 
box into a beautiful geranium, in a beauti¬ 
ful blue and white flower-pot, and that you 
could have all the pleasure of putting it on 
your mamma’s window-sill ?” 
“ Indeed, I would 1” said I, half crying. 
“ My doar boy, I believe you; but good 
wishes don’t mend bad actions; good ac¬ 
tions mend bad actions.” 
So saying, he shut tho door and wont out. 
I cannot toll you how puzzled I was to make 
out what my father meant by his aphorism; 
but I know that I played no more at domi¬ 
noes that day. The next morning, my fath¬ 
er found me seated by myself under a tree 
in tho garden; he pausod, and looked at 
me with his gravo, bright eyes, very steadily. 
“ My boy,” said ho, “ I am going to walk 
to---,'(a town about two miles off.) will 
you como ? and, by-the-by, fetch your 
domino-box; I should liko to show it to a 
person there.” 
I ran in for tho box, and not a little proud 
of walking with my father upon tho high¬ 
road. we set out. 
Papa,” said I, by tho way, “ there are no 
fairies now.” 
“ What then, my child ?” 
“ Why. how then can my domino-box bo 
changed into a geranium, and a bluo and 
white flower-pot ?” 
“My dear,” said my father, leaning his 
hand upon my shoulder, “ everybody who 
is earnest to bo good, carries two fairies 
about with him ; ono here,” and ho touched 
my heart, “ and ono hero,” and he touched 
my forehead. 
“ 1 don’t understand, papa.” 
“ I can wait till you do, Pisistratus. 
What a name 1” 
My father stoppod at a nursery garden¬ 
er’s, and after looking over the flowers, 
paused before a large double geranium. 
“ Ah, this is finer than that which your 
mamma was so fond of. What is the cost, 
sir ?” 
“Only 7s. 6d.,” said the gardoner. 
My father buttoned up his coat pocket. 
“ I can’t afford it to-day,” said he, gently, 
and wo walked out. On etering tho town, 
we stopped again, at a china warehouse. 
“ Have you a flower-pot liko that I bought 
some months ago ? Ah, hero is ono mark- 
3s. Gd. Yes, that is the price. Well, when 
your mamma’s birth-day comes again, wo 
must buy her another. That is some months 
to wait. And wo can wait, Master Sisty.— 
For truth, that blooms all the year round, 
is better than a poor geranium ; and a word 
that is never broken is better than a pieco 
of dolf.” 
My head, which had dropped before, rose 
again, and tho rush of joy at my heart almost 
stifled me. 
“ I have called to pay your little bill,” 
said my father, entering tho shop of ono of 
those fancy stationers, common in country 
towns, and'who sell all kinds of pretty toys 
and nicknacks ; “and by the way,” he added, 
as tho smiling shopman looked over his book 
for the entry, “ I think my little boy hero, 
can show you a much handsomer specimen 
of French workmanship than that work 
box which you enticed Mrs. Caxton into 
raffling for, last winter. Show your domi¬ 
no-box, my dear.” 
I produced my treasure, and the shopman 
was liberal in his commendations. 
“ It is always well, my boy, to know what 
a thing is worth, in case ono wishes to part 
with it. If my young gontleman gets tired 
of his plaything, what will you give him for 
it ?” 
“ Why, sir,” said the shopman, “ I fear we 
could not afford to give more than eighteen 
shillings for it, unless the young gentle¬ 
man took some of these pretty things in ox- 
change.” 
“ Eighteen shillings 1” said my father.— 
“You would give that ? Well, my boy, 
whenever you do grow tired of your box, 
you have my leave to sell it.” 
My father paid his bill, and went out. I 
lingered behind a few moments, and joined 
him at tho ond of tho street. 
“Papa 1 papa!” I criod, clapping my hands, 
“wo can buy the geranium—wo can buy tho 
flower-pot,” and I pulled a handful of silver 
from my pocket. 
“ Did I not say right ?” said my father, 
passing his handkerchief over his eyes ; 
“you have found tho two fairies 1 ’ 
Oh, how proud, how ovorjoyed I was, when 
| after placing vase and flowers on the win¬ 
dow-sill, I plucked my mother by the gown, 
and made her follow mo to tho spot 1 
“ It is his doing and his money 1” said my 
father; “good actions have mended tho bad.” 
“ What 1” cried my mother, when sho had 
learned all, “and your poor domino-box 
that you were so fond of 1 Wo will go bacn 
to-morrow, and buy it back, it it costs us 
double.” 
“ Shall wo buy it back, Pisistratus ?” ask¬ 
ed my father. 
“ Oh, no, no, no 1 it would spoil all 1” I 
cried, burying my faco on my father’s breast. 
“My wife,” said my father, solemnly, “this 
is my first lesson to our child, tho sanctity 
and the happinoss of self-sacrifice; undo 
not what it should teach to his dying day.” 
And this is tho history of the broken 
flower-pot. 
mnor. 
WHAT I WOULD LIKE. 
To make my happiness, 
I’d kind o’ like to have a cot 
Fixed on some sunny slope—a spot, 
live acres, more or less, 
With maples, cedars, cherry trees, 
And poplars whitening in the breeze. 
’Twould suit my taste, you see, 
To have the porch with vines o’erhung, 
With bells of pendent woodbine swung, 
In every bell a bee; 
And round my latticed window Spread, 
A clump of roses, white and red. 
To solace my retreat, 
I kind o’ think I should desire 
To hear around the lawn a choir 
Of wood-birds singing sweet; 
And in a dell I’d have a brook, 
Whereby to sit and read my book. 
Thus I’d live peacefully. 
Far from the city’s crow'ds and noise; 
There would I rear the girls and boys, 
(I have some two or three,) 
And if kind heaven should bless my store 
With competence for these and more, 
How happy I would be ! 
THE LEARNED ELEPHANT. 
“ That’s a worry knowing hanimal of 
yours,” said a cocknoy gentleman to the 
keeper of an elephant. “ Very,” was the 
cool rejoinder.” “ Ho performs strange 
tricks and hantics, does lio ?” inquired the 
cocknoy, eyeing tho animal through his 
glass. “ Surprisin’retorted tho keeper, 
“ we’ve learned him to put money in that 
box you see up there. Try him with a dol¬ 
lar.” The cockney handed tho elephant a 
dollar, and suro enough ho took it in his 
trunk and placed it in a box high up out of 
reach. “Well, that is very liextraordinary 
—hastonishing, truly 1” said tho green ono 
opening his eyes. “Nov/ let’s see him take 
it out and ’and it back.” “ We never learns 
him'that trick,” retorted the keeper, with a 
roguish leer, and then turned away to stir 
up tho monkeys and punch tho hyenas. 
Girls. —Holmes, in one of his poems, 
says in a parenthetical way— 
-“My grandpapa 
Loved girls when he was young.” 
No doubt of it; for Holmes is a sensible 
man, and must have had a sonsiblo grand¬ 
father. All sensible men love girls when 
thoy aso young, and when they are old too. 
(Wo apply thG “ old ” to tho men not tho 
girls—mind you.) Girlhood is an institu¬ 
tion—a “peculiar institution”—which as 
lovers of the “union” wo feel bound to 
cherish, and as to tho girls largo and small, 
we hold that no gentleman’s family “ is com¬ 
plete without them.” Of little girls an 
American poet says— 
“ With rosy cheeks, and merry dancing curls, 
And eyes of tender light, 
O very beautiful are little girls, 
And goodly to the sight. 
And as to large girls—“ big, bouncing girls” 
—what a pity it is that they must soon bo 
“women”—statoly, matronly, queenly wo¬ 
men, who are only not angels bocauso they 
are not—girls 1—who, by the by, are not 
angels either, but vastly more charming 
than any members of the angelic host that 
wo remember to have seen in the pictures 
or elsewhere 1 Indeed they are.— Boston 
Post. _ 
Tiif. easiest way to “ make a clean breast 
of it,” is to take an emetic. Peoplo with 
“ something on their minds,” will please note. 
E. JKoughton’s 'iTIi isJSc Bigger and Sub¬ 
soil CnlUivator! 
rip HE Thistle Digger and Subsoil Cultivator is, owing to 
its peculiar construction, particularly adapted to pul¬ 
verizing the soil and destroying all thistles, noxious weeds 
and grass-. It will work in any soil, the harder the bet¬ 
ter. It is so arranged that the blade may be raised and 
lowered,and made to move the soil to any required depth, 
and by cutting up everything in its way, has a decided 
advantage over the Wheel Cultivators whose use it is fast 
superceding. 
The following gentlemen, who are all practical Farmers, 
have used tho Thistle’Digger and Subsoil Cultivator on 
t\ieir farms, and cheerfully concur in recommending it. 
Guv Collins, East Bloomfield. W. Carter, E. Bloomfield. 
C. Hamlin, do Geo. Rice, do. 
M. Collins, do. F. Rice, do. 
John Houghton, do. P. McMillen, Canandaigua 
Augustus Bonghton, do. Augustus Sachet, do. 
C. H. Chapin, " do. P. & L. Gunn, do. 
Price, ¥30. Orders solicited, which may he directed to 
E. HOUGHTON, at Pitts ford, or to BRADLEY & RO¬ 
MANS, (who are the manufacturers,) or GL’Y COLLINS, 
East Bloomfield, N. Y. 183w4. 
GREAT STOCK SALE. 
Short-horn and Durham Cattle, sui<l South- 
down Sheep. 
O N Wednesday, the 7th day of September next, at oue 
o’clock, P. M., I will sell, at my farm on Grand Is¬ 
land, six miles below Buffalo, about 30 full bred Short¬ 
horns, a few Devons, and about 30 high grade Short-horn 
and Devon Cattle, consisting of Cows, Heifers and Young 
Bulls. 
The young Short-horns are chiefly the get of my im¬ 
ported bull Duke of Exeter (10,152)—a bull not exceed¬ 
ed, as a fine stock getter, by any other in the U. States. 
The young Devons arc the get of the bulls Candy and 
Quartley, both imported by Mr. Stevens. The superior 
of these bulls in blood, stylo and breeding, is not to be 
found. Quartley is my present stock bull. 
1 will oiler at tlic same time 50 pure bred South-Down 
Slieep-rams and ewes. Also a few Middlesex pigs—both 
sheep and pigs the direct get of imported sires, from dams 
descended from late importations. 
Catalogues will he ready by the first of August, and 
will lie scut on application to me, by mail. 
Terms :—All sums of $100, and loss, cash. For larger 
sums, approved notes at four months, with interest, pay¬ 
able at Bank, will be received, if preferred. 
A steamboat will carry all persons wishing to attend, 
across the ferry from Lower Black Rock to the farm, at 10 
o’clock on the morning of the day of sale. The stock can 
be viewed at anytime previous, by calling on me at my 
residence in this place. LEWIS F. ALLEN. 
Black Rock, N. Y., June 15, 1853. 182-1 Ot 
TMtE JUVENILE INSTRUCTOR, 
BY UNCLE LUCIUS, Syracuse, 
i SEMI-MONTHLY PAPER, expressly for children. 
j\_ It aims to attract their attention by simplicity and 
beauty of style, and to infuse into the young mind appro¬ 
priate sentiments of piety and love for parents—sympathy 
for human sulfering, and an abiding hatred of oppression 
in all its forms. It ought to be circulated over the entire 
Union, for this last reason. There is much at stake in 
the question of freedom, and but little said or done to ef¬ 
fect favorably the youthful mind. Within tho State of N. 
York, the postage is 6 cents per year, paid at the office 
where it is received. In all other Slates, 12 cents yearly. 
In packages of 21 or more the postage, if pro-paid at the 
office, of publication, is about 4 cts on each paper. 
Price per year—single copies, 25c.; Five to one address, 
$1; Ten do, 51,70; Twenty tlo, $3; Thirty do, $4,20; Fifty 
do, $0,50; One hundred do, $12. 
Address LUCIUS C. MATLACK, 
183m3. Syracuse, N. Y. 
PENALTIES. 
The ponalty of buying cheap clothes is 
the same as that of going to law—the cer¬ 
tainty of losing your suit and having to 
pav for it. 
Tho penalty of marrying, is a mother-in- 
law. 
Tho penalty of remaining single, is hav¬ 
ing no ono who “ cares a button ” for you, 
as is abundantly proved by tho state of your 
shirts. 
The penalty of thin shoes, is a cold. 
Tho penalty of a pretty cook is an empty 
larder. 
Tho penalty of tight hoots, is corns. 
Tho penalty of popularity, is onvy. 
Tho penalty of a hahy, is sleepless nights. 
The penalty of interfering botween man 
and wife, is abuse, frequently accompanied 
with blows from both. 
Tho ponalty of kissing a baby, is half a 
crown, five shillings (if you are liboral) to the 
nurse. 
Tho ponalty of a public dinnor, is bad 
wine. 
The penalty of a legacy or a fortune, is 
the sudden discovery of a host of poor re¬ 
lations you never dreamed of; and a num 
her of debts you had quito forgotten. 
The penalty of lending, is—with a book 
or an umbrolla, the certain los of it; with 
your name to a bill, tho certain payment of 
it; and with a horse, chance of ever seeing 
him back again sound.— Punch. 
FEKTSI.IKEKS. 
F DRUVIAN GUANO,.$45 per ton. 
Super Phosphate of Lime,.2),( cents per pound. 
Bone Sawings, or Meal,.$2,50 per barrel. 
Turnings and Crushed,.2,25 “ “ 
Pulverized Charcoal,.1,00 “ “ 
Plaster, Ground,.1,12% to 1,25 do. 
Potash Scrapings,.3% to 4 cts. per lb. 
Sulphuric Acid,.2% to 2%e. “ 
For sale at the State Agricultural Warehouse. 
I.ONGETT & GRIFFING, 
178w8. No. 25 Cliff Street, New York. 
grab's fencr. 
“Attemptthe end,and never standto doubt; 
Nothing’s so hard, but search will find it out.” 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 14 letters. 
My 3, 10, 14, 13 is one of the United States. 
My 12, 3, 1, 13 is a town in Indiana. 
My 5, 12, I, 3, 10 is a town in New York. 
My 14, 2, 11,12, 5,4 is a county in New York. 
My 5, 11, 3, 5 is a county in Pennsylvania. 
My 4, 3, 6, 5 is a river in Afriea. 
My 2, 14, 5 is a lake in Scotland. 
My 1, 10, 4, 11, 10, 5 is a county in Missouri. 
My 1, 2, 11, 3, 13, 4, 4, 2 is a town in Florida. 
My 8, 9, 5, 5, 4 is a county in Now York. 
My 2, 6, 6, 5, 4 is a county in Ohio. 
My 1, 2, 11, 7, 10, 4 is a town in Missouri. 
My 1, 13, 1, 10, 11, 5 is a river in Bolivia. 
My whole prevails in several of the United 
States. 
Answer next week. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 17 letters. 
My 1, 2, 0, 5,4, 3 is what many have sat upon. 
My 7, 3, 11, 11, 3. 17, 17, 9, 9 is one of the U. 
S. States. 
My 4, 13, 12, 3, 17 is a man’s name. 
My 16, 8, 9, 4 is not now. 
My 15, 13, 17, 17 is what serpents are liable 
to do. 
My 17, 4, 5,10, 13, 11, 14 is what many are 
subject to. 
My whole is a source of wonder and contem¬ 
plation to all. c. 8. H. 
Answer next week. 
M proved farms. D- A. WARD, 
36 State St., Rochester, N. Y. 
GENESEE PAPER BIULL.N. 
C O-PARTNERSIIIP NOTICE.—The subscribers hav¬ 
ing purchased the Genesee Paper Mills property, have 
this day formed a Co-partnership, under the name and 
firm of Adams, Huntington & to., for the purpose of 
Manufacturing Printing Paper, and dealing at wholesale 
and retail in all kinds of Paper Stock. Office and Ware¬ 
house, No. S3 State street. 
FRANCIS T. ADAMS, E. T. HUNTINGTON, 
WILLIAM A. ADAMS, ALVAH STRONG, 
ALBERT M. HASTINGS, D. D. T. MOORE. 
Rochester, April 15, 1853. 
DAGUERREOTYPES. 
rjlHE Subscriber continues the business of Daguerreo- 
JL typing, at bis old stand in Chappell’s Block, 82 State-st. 
Grateful for past favors, he will, as heretofore, adhere Hi 
the motto, that “whatever is worth doing at all, is worth 
doing well,”—trusting therein ter a continuance of public 
patronage. Pictures copied, and all other work done in 
the highest style and finish known to the Art. 
Rochester, Jan., 1853. [102-oamJ S. B. SMITH. 
Erection of Lightuing Rods. 
T P. BERTHRONG & Co., offer their services to th 9 
j. public for this work. They assure their patrons 
that the work shall be carefully and faithfully done. The 
patronage already received demands their gratitude, and 
shall be fully merited in future. They will put up rods 
both in city and country. Orders may be left at 55 South 
Fitzhugh St., or at J. B. Dewey’s Store, 61 Buffalo St. 
L. P. BERTHRONG & Co. 
Rochester, July 13, 1852. 133-tf 
ONE V TO LOAN on Bond and Mortgage. ou irn- 
_ prove 
[109m0.] 
ANSWER TO ENIGMA, &c., IN NO. 27. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma — Subscribe 
for the Rural Neu >- Yorker. 
Answer to Charade— Avarice. 
Answer to Question — Half way round, or op¬ 
posite the place he started from. 
MGOllE’S B.U11AL NEW-Y0RKEX: 
A WEEKLY HOME JOURNAL, 
For both Country and Town Residents. 
PUBLICATION OFFICE, 
Burns’ Block, corner State and Buffalo Sts., 
Koch ester, N. Y. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year — $1 for six months. To Clubs and 
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sent by mail at the risk of the Publisher. 
Terms of Advertising 
One Dollar per square (ten lines— 100 words, or less,) for 
each insertion ,—in advance. The circulation of tho 
New-Yorkf.r is much larger than that of any other news¬ 
paper published in the State, out of New York city- Only 
a limited space, however, is devoted to advertisements, and 
hence preference is given to those most appropriate—suc.h 
as the cards and notices of dealers in Agricultural Imple¬ 
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All communications, and business letters, should 
be addressed to D. D. T. Moore, Rochester, N. Y. 
THE WOOL GROWER AND STOCK REGISTER- 
This is the only American Journal primarily devoted to 
the interest of Wool and Stock Growers, and should be in 
the hands of every owner of Domestic Animals. It is ably 
conducted, published in the best stylo, and finely illustra¬ 
ted. Each number contains a careful Review of the Wool 
and Cattle Markets, and much other useful and reliable 
information which can bo obtained from no other source. 
The Fifth Volume commences with July, 1853. 
Terms:— Fifty Cf.nts a Year; Five Copies for $2 ; 
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paper, at 40 cts. each,—unbound at 35 cts., or three for $1. 
Published monthly, in octavo form. Specimen numbers 
sent free. Money, properly enclosed, at our risk. 
Address D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y. 
