88 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-IO RKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
THE MAIDEN’S DREAM. 
A maid one day in a mournful mood, 
(For this maid was getting older,) 
Sat down o'er her single state to brood: 
Poor tiling, she very much wished to be wooed, 
Hut she thought the men grew colder. 
She pined for a husband, kind and good, 
A husband who would not scold her. 
A single life she admired far less 
Than that state of double blessedness 
That’s known by the name of marriage. 
Moreover she wished, and the wish was wise 
That it might be her fate to pluralize 
With a lover who kept his carriage. 
For in holy matrimony’s hive 
There’s nothing so nice to keep love alive, 
Asa good supply of money, 
It tends so much to “ elegant ease,” 
’Tis as welcome to wives, as to summer bees 
Are clover blooms full of honey. 
In the midst of her musings she fell asleep, 
But her thoughts continued still to sweep 
In a wedding-ward direction. 
She thought that Cupid her shoulder tapped 
With his shaft, as she lay in slumber wrapt, 
And calling her “sweet perfection,” 
Remarked that a husband should yet be hers, 
A spouse for better and not for worse, 
Who would love her with true affection. 
Young lady—said he—be pleasant and gay, 
From the other sex do not turn away, 
Yet be not too forward neither; 
And instead of moping here in the house, 
Where you cannot expect to find a spouse, 
Whene'er there’s a party to be there, 
Dress with taste, never wear a frown, 
And you’re sure to capture some proper noun 
Of the bearded and whiskered gender 1 
To his wooing give an attentive ear. 
Don’t answer his vows with a laugh or jeer; 
Be modest, but yet be tender. 
Pursue this course if you wish to wed. 
And the game’s your own—little Cupid said, 
Then opened his wings, and bowed his head, 
Prayed Heaven a lover to send her. 
The prayer was heard—she is married now— 
To win an adorer Love taught her how, 
And well her husband has kept his vow 
To cherish her and defend her. 
Merchant's Ledger. 
Jlural SfefttJ 
THE TWO INVALIDS. 
BY T. S. ARTHUR. 
The chamber in which the sick woman 
lay was furnished with everything that taste 
could desire, or comfort demand. Yet, from 
none of those elegant surroundings, came 
there an opiate for the weary spirit, or a 
balm to soothe the pain from which she 
sulfered. With heavy eyes, contracted brow, 
and face almost as white as the laco fringed 
pillow it pressed, canopied with rich cur¬ 
tains, she reclined sighing away the weary 
hours, or giving voice to hor discontent in 
fruitless complaining. 
She was alone. A little whilo beforo hor 
attendant had left the room, taking with 
hor a child, whoso glad spirits—glad because 
admitted to his mother’s presence—had dis¬ 
turbed her. 
‘ { Take him out,” she said, fretfully. 
“ You must go back to the nursery, dear.” 
The attendant spoke kindly, as she stoop¬ 
ed to lift the child in her arms. 
“No — no — no. 1 want to stay hero. 
Do let me stay horo, won’t you ?” 
“Mamma is sick and you disturb her,” 
was answered. 
“ Oh, no. I won’t disturb her. I’ll bo so 
good.” 
“ Why don’t you take him out at onco ?” 
oxclaimed the mother in a harsh, excited 
voice. 
“ It’s too much that I can’t have a little 
quiet! lie’s made my head ache already. 
What does the nurse mean by letting him 
come over here!” 
As the screaming child was borne from 
the room, the sick woman clasped her hands 
to her temples, murmuring — 
“ My poor head ! It was almost quiet; 
but now it throbs as if every vein were ready 
to burst! Why don’t they soothe that 
child !” 
But the child screamed on, and his voico 
camo ringing upon her ears. Nurse was 
cross, and took no pains to hush his cries; 
so tho mother’s special attendant remained 
for some time away from the sick chamber. \ 
By slow degrees she succeeded in diverting 
tho child’s mind from his disappointment; 
but it was many minutes after his crying 
ceased, before ho would consent to her leav¬ 
ing him. 
In tho meantime the sun’s bright rays had 
found a small opening in one of the cur¬ 
tains that draped the windows, and com¬ 
menced pouring in a few pencils of light, 
which fell in a bright spot, on a picture that 
hung on the wall; resting, in fact, upon the 
fair forehead of a beautiful maiden, and 
giving a hue of life to tho features. It was 
like a bit of fairy work—a touch, almost, of 
enchantment. The oyos of tho invalid were 
resting on this picture, as the magic change 
began to tako place. 
How tho lovoly vision, if it might bo so 
called, won hor from thoughts of pain ! Ah, 
if we could say so? Raising herself, sho 
grasped tho pendant tassel of tho boll-rope, 
and rung with a violent hand ; then sunk 
down, with a groan, exhausted by tho effort, 
shut hor eyes, and buried her face in tho 
pillow. Leaving tho only half-comforted 
child, hor attendant hastily oboyed tho sum¬ 
mons. 
“Tho sun is blinding mo!” said tho un¬ 
happy invalid, as she entered tho chamber. 
“ How could you bo so careless in arranging 
tho curtains !” 
A touch, and the sweet vision which had 
smiled all so vainly for tho poor sufferer, 
was lost in shadows. There was a subdued 
light, and almost pulsoless silence in tho 
chamber. 
“ Do tako those flowers away ; their odor 
is dreadful to mo !” 
A beautiful bouquot of flowors, sent by a 
sympathizing friend, was removed from tho 
chamber. Half an hour afterwards, tho 
attendant thought her sleeping, sho ex¬ 
claimed : 
“ Oh, how that does worry me !” 
“ What worries you, ma’am ?” was kindly 
asked. 
“ That doll on tho mantle. It is entirely 
out of place hero. I wish you would re- 
movo it. Oh. dear, dear ! And that toilette 
glass — straighten it if you pleaso. I can’t 
bear anything crooked. And there’s Mary’s 
rigolette on tho bureau ; tho careless child ! 
She never puts anything away.” 
Thcso little annoyances were removed, 
and tho invalid was quiet again—externally 
quiet; but within, all was fretfulness and 
mental pain. 
“ There come tho children from school,” 
she said, as tho ringing of tho door bell and 
gay voices were heard below. “You must 
keep them from my room. I feel unusually 
nervous to-day, and my head aches badly.” 
Yet oven while she spoke, two little girls 
came bounding into tho room, crying — 
“ Oh, mother ! dear mother ! Wo’vo got 
something good to tell you. Miss Martin 
says we’ve been two of the best- 
The attendant’s imperative “ Il-u-s-h !” 
and the mother’s waving towards tho door, 
the motion enforced by a frowning brow, 
were successful in silencing tho pleasant and 
excited children, who without being permit¬ 
ted to tell tho good nows they had brought 
from school, and which thoy had fondly be¬ 
lieved would provo so pleasant to their 
mother’s ears, woro almost pushed from the 
chamber. 
No matter of surprise is it, that a quick 
rovulsion took placo in their feelings. If 
tho voico of wrangling reached, soon after, 
the mother’s oars, and pained her to tho 
very soul, it lessoned not the pressure on 
her foelings, and a little self-denial on her 
part, a little forgetfulness of her own feel¬ 
ings, and a thoughtfulness for them, would 
have prevented the unhappy discord. 
And so the day passed, and when evening 
brought hor husband to her bed-side, his 
kind inquiries were answered only bv com¬ 
plainings that mado, from mental reactions, 
bodily suffering tho greater. For so long a 
time had this state of things existed, that 
her husband was fast losing his wonted 
cheorfulness of temper. He was in no way 
indifferent to his wife’s condition ; few men, 
in fact, would havo sympathized more deep¬ 
ly, or sought with more untiring assiduity 
to lighten the burden which ill-health had 
laid upon her. But, in her case, thought 
was all turnod to self. It was liko tho 
blood flowing back, in congestion upon the 
heart, instead of diffusing itself, healthfully, 
over the system. 
Thus it went on, tho invalid growing 
worse instead of better. Not a want was 
expressed, that monoy did not supply; not, 
a caprice of fancy or appetite, which met 
not proffered gratification. But all availed 
not. Her worst disoaso was mental, having 
its origin in inordinate selfishness. It never 
camo into her mind to dony herself for tho 
sake of others; to stifle hor complaints, lest 
they should pain tho oars of her husband, 
children or friends; to bear tho weight of 
suffering laid upon her, with at least an ef¬ 
fort at cheerfulness. And she became a 
burden to those who loved her. In hor 
presence, tho sweet voices of children were 
hushed, and smiles faded away. Nothing 
that was gay, or glad, or cheerful, came 
near her, that did not instantly change into 
sobriety or sadness. 
Not very far away form tho beautiful 
home of this unhappy invalid, is another 
sufferer from ill-health. We will look in 
upon her. Tho chamber is poorly furnished, 
containing scarcely an article, the absonco 
of which would not have abridged tho com¬ 
fort of its occupant. We enter. 
What a light has come into those sunken 
eyes, and over that pale face ? We tako tho 
thin white hand. A touch of sadness is in 
our voice that will not bo repressed, As wo 
make inquiries about her health ; but she 
answers cheerfully and hopefully. “ Do 
you suffer pain ?” . 
“Yes, but mostly at night. All day long 
I find so much to interest mo, and so many 
thoughts about my children to fill my mind, 
that I hardly find time to think of my own 
feelings. Caro is a blessing.” 
With what a patient, heavenly smile this 
is said ! IIow much of life’s true philoso¬ 
phy is contained in that closing sontonco ? 
Yes, care is a blessing. What countless 
thousands would, but for daily caro, be un¬ 
utterably miserable. And yet, wo are over 
trying to throw off care—to rise into posi¬ 
tions whero wo will bo free from action or 
duty. 
Tho voice of a child is now hoard. It is 
crying. 
“ Dear little Aggy! What can ail her ?” 
says the mother, tenderly. And sho inclines 
an ear, listening earnestly. The crying 
continues. 
“ Poor child! Something is wrong with 
her. Won’t you open tho door a moment ?” 
Tho door is opened, and tho sick mother 
calls tho name of “Aggy” two or three 
times. But her voico is too feeble to reach 
the distant apartment. 
Wo second tho mother’s wishes, and go 
for the grieving little ono. 
“ Mother want Aggy.” 
What magic words! The crying has 
ceased instantly, and rainbow smiles are 
seen through falling tears. 
“Dear little dove! What has troubled 
it ?” IIow tender and soothing and full of 
love is the voice that utters these words!— 
We lift Aggy upon tho bed. A moment, 
and her fresh, warm cheek is close to the 
pale face of hor mother; while her hand is 
nestling in hor bosom. 
The smile that plays so beautifully ovor 
the invalid’s face, has already answered the 
question we were about to ask—“ Will not 
the child disturb you ?” But our face has 
betrayed our thoughts, and sho says : 
“ I can’t bear to have Aggy away from 
mo. She rarely annoys me. A dear, good 
child—yet only a child, for whom only a 
mother can think wisoly. She rarely leaves 
my room that sho doesn’t get into some 
trouble; but my presence quickly restores 
the sunshine.” 
The bell rings. There is a murmur of 
voices below; and now, light feet come trip¬ 
ping up tho stairs. The door opens, and 
two little girls enter, just from school.— 
Does tho sick mother put out hor hand to 
enjoin silence ? Does sho repel them by 
look or word ? Oh no. 
“Well, Mary—well, Anna!” sho says kind¬ 
ly. They bend over and kiss her gently and 
lovingly; then speak modestly to the visitor. 
“ How do you feel, mother ?” asks tho 
oldest of tho two girls. “Does your head- 
acho ?” 
“Not now, dear. It ached a little whilo 
ago, but it is better now.” 
“ What made it ache, mother ?” 
“ Something troubled Aggy, and her Cry¬ 
ing sent a pain through my templos. But 
it went away with the clouds that passed 
from her darling face.” 
“ Why, sho’s asloep, mother !” exclaimed 
Anna. 
“ So she is. Dear little lamb ! Asleep 
with a tear on her cheek. Turn her crib 
around love, so that I can lay her in it.” 
“ No, you musn’t lift her,” said Mary, “ it 
will make your head acho.” And the elder 
of tho children lilts her baby sister in her 
arms, and carefully lays her in hor crib. 
“ Did you say all your lossons correctly, 
this morning ?” now asks tho mother. 
“ I didn’t miss a word,” answers Mary. 
“ Nor I,” says Anna. 
“ I’m glad of it. It always does mo good 
to know that you have said your lessons 
well. Now go and take a run in tho yard 
for exercise.” 
The little girls leave tho chamber, and 
soon their happy voices come ringing up 
from tho yard. 
Tho sound is loud, tho children in their 
merry mood aro unconscious of the noise 
they make. 
“ This is too loud. It will make your 
headache,” wo say, making a motion to rise, 
as if going to check tho exuberance of their 
spirits. 
“ Oh no,” is answered with a smilo. “ Tho 
happy voices of my children never disturb 
me. Were it tho sound of wrangling my 
weak head would throb instantly with pain. 
But this comes to me liko music. They 
have been confined for hours in school, and 
health needs a reaction. 
“Every buoyant laugh or glad exclama¬ 
tion expands their lungs, quickens tho blood 
in their veins, and gives a measure of health 
to mind as well as body. Tho knowledge of 
this brings to mo a sense of pleasure; and 
it is better for me, therefore, that thoy 
should be gay and noisy for a time, after 
coming out of school, than it would bo if 
they sat quietly down in the house, or mov¬ 
ed about stealthily, speaking to each other 
in low tones lest I should be disturbed.” 
We could not say nay to this. It was true, 
because unselfish philosophy. 
“ Doesn’t that hammering annoy you,” wo 
askod. 
“ What hammering ?” 
“ In tho now building ovor tho way.” 
She listens a moment, and then answers : 
“ Oh, no. I did not remai’k it until you 
spoko. Such things never disturb mo, for 
tho reason that my mind is usually too 
much occupied to notice thorn. Though 
an invalid, and so weak that my hands are 
almost useless, I never lot my thoughts lie 
idle. A mother, with three children, has 
enough to occupy her mind usefully—and 
useful thoughts, you know, are antidotes to 
brooding melancholy, and not unfrequontly 
to bodily pain. If I woro to give away to 
weakness—and I am not without temptation 
—I would soon bo an unhappy, nervous, 
helpless creature, a burden to myself and 
all around me.” 
“ You need sympathy and strength from 
others,” wo remarked. 
“And I receive it in full moasuro,” is in¬ 
stantly replied. “ Not because I domand it. 
It conies, tho heart-offering of true affection. 
Poorly would I repay my husband, children 
and friends for tho thousand kindnesses I 
received at their hands, by making homo 
tho gloomiest place on all tho earth. "Would 
it bo any the brighter for me that I throw 
clouds over their spirits ? Would they more 
truly sympathize with me, because I was 
forovor pouring complaints into their ears? 
Oh, no. I try to mako them forget that I 
suffor, and, in their forgotfulness, I often 
find a swoet oblivion. I love them all too 
well to wish them a moment’s sadness.” 
What a beautiful glow was on her pale 
countenance as she thus spoke ! 
Wo turn from tho homo of this cheerful 
invalid, with a lesson in our hearts not soon 
to bo forgotten. Ill hoaltli need not always 
bring gloom to tho dwelling. Suffering 
need not always bend tho thoughts painful¬ 
ly to self. The body may waste, tho hands 
fall nerveless to tho sides; yet tho heart re¬ 
tain its greenness, and the mind its power 
to bless. 
Man is like a snowball. Leave him lying 
in idlenoss against tho sunny fence of pros¬ 
perity, and all the good that is in him melts 
liko frosh butter in those days ; but kick 
him round, and he gathors strongth at every 
revolution, until he grows into an avalanche. 
To mako a figure in the world you must 
keep moving. 
“False Pretences.” —Protending to be 
religious whon you aro immoral; sick when 
you aro quito healthy ; honest when you 
are a knave ; to have political principles 
whon you have nono, with a list of &c., &c., 
“ too numerous to mention.” 
Hit aifo ipniMr. 
A MODEL CERTIFICATE. 
The Knickerbocker Magazine says:— 
“Our eccentric and almost ubiquitous coi*- 
respondent, Mr. James Pipos, of Pipesvillo, 
| pays tho following tributo to tho great mor- 
: its of tho Graffenburg Pill, Lip Salvo and 
Green Mountain Ointment 
“ To the President of tho Younitcd 
Staites Graffenburg Pil Manufaktering Lip 
Sarve and Greon-Mountaine Ontment Kum- 
pany in Congress not assembled ; 
“ Sur—I were afflicted with a wory wio- 
lent pane in my lower stummick by reeson 
of induring much Lickor in my sistom. It 
remaned with mo for sum time untill my 
provious inside was materially lessened in 
its parts. Driven orlmost to madness, by 
ono of Kipp and Brown’s omnibuses, I alited 
at your Pil Repository in dreadful agoni, 
and found your docter just helping to some 
Bitters, for to givo him an appotito for tho 
Pils after dinnor. Ho advised mo to take 
sum—which I did, and found Relief beforo 
I’d finished takin it. It warmed my intes- 
inos and other things, and corzed the prep¬ 
aration to excludo from my skin and the 
Kyycnno Pepper to raise in my stummick 
so that I hollered right out no moar fur 
tho present, from yours trooly, J. P.” 
FATAL CASE. 
Polly Smith was a terrible plain woman. 
Sho would havo borne off' tho jack-knife 
from all competitors, and given them tho 
odds of fifty start in tho race. Sho was 
endlessly complaining of her ailments, to 
tho no small annoyance of such listeners as 
sho chanced to hold, and no one was more 
annoyed than old Dr. Bolus, a comical old 
fellow of hor neighborhood. Meeting Mrs. 
Smith one morning, ho ventured to salute 
her with tho usual compliment of tho morn¬ 
ing, with tho accostomed “ How d’yo do ?” 
“ Why, doctor, fool putty mizablo thank’o. 
My old complaints is troubling me. There 
never was a creature suffered more than I 
do. Pains and aches, arid pains all tho 
timo!” “But,” interrupted tho doctor, 
growing impatient, “ you don’t look very 
sick.” “No,” replied sho, “I know I 
don’t, but 1 feel a great doal worse than I 
look.” “ Bless mo!” cried tho doctor, 
throwing up his hands, “ then you had hot¬ 
ter mako hasto homo, for you can’t live an 
hour!” Mrs. Smith had tne good souse to 
know what ho meant, and novor mado any 
more complaints to him. 
Definition of Humbug.— A sovero in¬ 
stance of the use of tho term “ humbug ” 
occurred in a Court of Justico. A femalo 
in giving evidence repeatedly used this 
term. In her sovero cross-examination, 
tho counsel (a very plain, if not ugly porson) 
observed she had frequently used the term 
humbug, and dosired to know what she 
meant by it, and to havo an explanation; 
to which she ropliod : 
“ Why, sir, if I was to say you woro a 
very handsome man, would you not think I 
was humbugging you ?” 
Tho counsel sat down perfectly satisfied. 
Nicholas Biddle, whon President of tho 
U. S. Bank, obtained tho opinion of Chan¬ 
cellor Kent on some point of law, for which 
tho Chancollor charged a fee of ono hun¬ 
dred dollars. 
“ That is not enough Judgo,” said Mr. 
B—; “ hero are two hundred dollars, and 
your sorvicos aro cheap enough at that.” 
“ How is this ?” said tho Chancellor; “ do 
you think I do not know tho value of my 
own opinion ? You havo insulted mo; but 
on tho wholo, I'll 'pocket tho insult!” 
Tom Marshall of Kentucky, and ono 
Pilcher, woro rival candidates for ollice, and 
were “stumping” against each other. Pil¬ 
cher was haranguing about “ his father hav¬ 
ing boon a poor man,” “ his father was a 
cooper,” and more of that sort of thing.— 
Marshall said ho would admit tho gontle- 
man’s father was a poor man ; perhaps ho 
had been a cooper, but if he was, (pointing 
to Pilcher.) ho had mado a mighty poor 
head to one of his whislcey-barrols ! 
Would Not be a Fool. —Tho uncle of a 
Welsh minister being sorely offended, de¬ 
clared that ho should nover forgive tho of¬ 
fender. Tho minister asked him if ho know 
what the Bibio said ? 
“ No,” said ho, “ what does it say ?” 
“ Angor rosteth in tho bosom of fools.” 
“ Well, Thomas,” said ho, “go instantly 
and tell tho man that I forgivo him all. I 
will not bo a fool to pleaso him, or anybody 
else.” 
Sergeant Davy was accused of having 
onco disgraced tho bar by taking silver 
from a cliont. “ I took silver,” ropliod he, 
“ becauso I could not got gold ; but I took 
every farthing tho fellow had in tho world; 
and I hopo you don’t call that disgracing tho 
profession.” 
A Clergyman of “ undofinablo ” charac¬ 
ter, going to say prayers, had great difiicul- 
ly in putting on his surplice. “I think,” 
said he to the clork, “ the dovil is in the 
surplice.” Tho astonished clerk stared till 
he got it on, then sarcastically exclaimed, 
“ I think ho is, sir ?” 
Hard Hit. —Tho witty Duke of Wharton, 
having introdued a Scripture story into 
ono of his speeches in tho House of Lords, 
was asked by a right rovorond prelate, 
when ho should havo done preaching.— 
“ When I am mado Bishop, my lord,” was 
tho sarcastic reply. 
The man who was “ fired with indigna¬ 
tion,” has boon extinguished. 
\ (foracr. 
“Attemptthe end,and never stand to doubt; 
Nothing’s so hard, but search will find it out.” 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 22 letters. 
My 19, 7, 14, 10, 18, 12 all should do. 
My 1, 2, 5, 17, 1 often occurs. 
My 13, 8, 15,11, 13, 18 merchants buy. 
My 17, 15, 18, 9, 14, 13, 22, 10, 4 is a girl’s 
name. 
My 13, 18, 8, 15 is dug from the earth. 
My 6, 22, 19, 12 is used by weavers. 
My 22, 15, 15, 5, 20 is a town in New York. 
My 15, 8, 17, 14, 6, 7, 1, 1, 5 was a general in 
the Revolutionaay war. 
My 1, 2, 4, 22, 1, 5,19 is visited by many. 
My 15, 16, 20,12, 7, 1 is the name of a bird. 
My 21, 20, 12 is not out. 
My 10, 20, 18, 19, 7 many do unconsciously. 
My whole is an interesting work about the 
gold regions. 
Hunt’s Hollow, N Y., 1853. 
JggpAnswer next week. 
For tho Rural New-Yorker. 
A PROELEM- 
It is required to row a boat from New York to 
Albany with the least possible expense of human 
labor. I find by placing four hands in it, that 
they can just stem the current, without progress¬ 
ing ; and by placing a fifth hand iu the boat, the 
power requisite to move it with a given velocity, 
was increased one-eighth ; and one-tenth for each 
additional hand. What number of hands must be 
placed in the boat ? a. ii. e. 
Hector, N. Y., 1853. 
Answer next week. 
ANSWER TO ENIGMA, &c., BT NO. 47. 
Answer to Rebus : 
S te a M 
E m m A 
WheaT 
A 1 v a H 
R o s E 
I) e e R 
Answer to Historical Enigma — Alexander the 
Great, King of Macedon. 
FlilfiS! FURS! 1’IJISS! 
1 VI1E largest assortment in Western New York, and will 
. be sold lower than can be ottered at any other estab- 
hsiiment in the city. No Humbug, call and be satisfied. 
Buffalo Robes; Wolf Robes; 
Jennett do. Fox do. 
Badger do. Woolveriue Robes. 
Bear do. Opossum do. 
Lynx Vietorines and Cuff's. 
Stone Martin, Bl’k Martin and French do. do. 
Swedish and Silver Martin Vietorines and Cuffs. 
Hudson’s Bay Sable do. do. 
Mink, Opossum, and Fitch ' do. do. 
Swans Down, Fur Trimmings, Fur Gloves, the great¬ 
est variety in tho State, and will be sold by the single pair 
or dozen, 20 per cent, lower Ulan any house in this city. 
Our FURS aro from the celebrated furriers, Ganther & 
Sons, Gault, Ballard &. Co., Leopold, Lang, Backus, Os¬ 
born & Co.; Wm. Moser, and flic Hudson's Bay Fur Man¬ 
ufactory-warranted superior in workmanship, color and 
stock, to any manufactured in this country. 
We keep everything in the Fur line, and will retail or 
job as low as any New York house. 
CLARK & GILMAN, 33 State street, 
Wholesale and Retail Furriers and Ilatrers. 
Rochester, Nov. 4, 1853. 202-31 
IJul'k'alo Agricultural YVarelioti.se tuid. 
Seed Sitore. 
Kofi. 11 cfc 13 West Seneca Street, Bujfalo. 
H IRAM C. WHITE & CO., successors to Mason & 
Lovering, wholesale and retail dealers in all kinds of 
Agricultural Implements and Aiaehines, Field, Garden 
and Flower Seeds; Fruit and Ornamental Trees, Shrubs 
and Flowers; Oriental Poultry, &c. Also, Agents for 
the Boston Belting Company’s Vulcanized India aubber 
goods, Belting, Hose Packing, &c. 
Orders solicited, all of which shall receive prompt at¬ 
tention at lowest market rates, and all articles warranted 
as represented. HIRAM G. WHITE & CO. 
Hikam O. White. [195tf| Amasa Mason. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: 
A WEEKLY HOME JOURNAL, 
For both Country and Town Eesidents. 
PUBLICATION OFFICE, 
Burns’ Block, corner State and Buffalo Sts., 
Rochester, N. Y. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year — §1 for six months. To Clubs and 
Agents as follows:— Three Copies one year, for $5; Six 
Copies (and one to Agent or getter up of club,) for $10; 
Ten Copies (and one to Agent,) for §15; Twenty Copies 
for §25, and any additional number, directed to' individuals 
at the same rate. Six months subscriptions jn proportion' 
X3T Subscription money, pi operiy enclosed, may be 
sent by mail at the risk of the Publisher. 
Terms of Advertising 
One Dollar per square (ten lines— 100 words, or lcao,) for 
each insertion,— in advance. 83^” The circulation of the 
New-Yorker 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 
lienee preference is given to those most appropriate—such 
as the cards and notices of dealers iu Agricultural Imple¬ 
ments and Machinery,—Horticulturists and Seedsmen,— 
Booksellers and Publishers,—Inventors, etc. All orders 
by mail should be accompanied with the cash. 
To enable us to accommodate as many as possible, brief 
advertisements are preferred. Patent medicines, &c., will 
not be advertised in this paper on any terms. 
Itif" All communications, and business letters, should 
be addressed to I). D. T. Moore, Rochester, N. Y. 
THE WOOL GROWER AND STOCK REGISTER. 
Tins is tho only American Journal primarily devoted to * 
the interest of Wool and Stock Growers, and should bo in ^ 
the hands of every owner of Domestic Animals. It is ably ( 
conducted, published in the best style, and finely illustra- < 
ted. Each number contains a careful Review of the Wool t 
and Cattle Markets, and much other useful and reliable j 
information which can be obtained from no other source. ( 
The Fifth Volume commences with July, 1853. < 
Terms: —Fifty Cents a Year; Five Copies for §2 ; 
Eight for §3; Eleven for $4. Back volumes, bound in ( 
paper, at 40 cts. each,—unbound at 35 ets., or three for $ 1. ( 
Published monthly, in octavo form. Specimen numbers ( 
sent free. Money, properly enclosed, at our risk. j 
Address D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y. 1 
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