100 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
MARCH 
s 
flitB f flffatj. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
O, WHEN WILL THE STORMS BE OVER? 
BY RKV. E. C. BEACH. 
0, when will the storms be over r 
With their wild and desolate wail, 
That roar on the misty mountains, 
And sweep through the leafless vale ; 
The storms of this wild, wild winter, 
0, when will they sink to rest, 
And spring, from her emerald chambers, 
Lift on us her roseate crest, 
And open her life-breathing portals 
To earth’s all desolate breast ? 
As day unto day brings the tempest, 
Careering from night unto night, 
Earth lays like a giant enshrouded 
In his winding sheet of white ; 
Like a corpse, unquiet and fitful, 
As if all the wierd spirits of air 
Were writhing in battle around it, 
Or holding their carnival there ;— 
0, when will the battle be over, 
And the soft hours of summer appear ? 
0 winter, all stern and relentless, 
We tire of thy terrible reign, 
Thou hast palsied the pulse of ereation, 
And chilled the warm blood in her vein : 
Thou hast bound the sweet spring in thy fetter, 
And said to the streamlet “ be still 
All beauty has flown at thy coming, 
All beauty in valley or hill; — 
O, when shall the thraldom be broken, 
That bends to thy merciless will ? 
But is there no tempest that lashes 
The deep, dark waters within ? 
O, is there no pitiless winter 
Of strife, and sorrow, and sin ? 
0, when shall the storms be over 
That break on the desolate soul ? 
When will open that radiant morning 
That no dark shadows control; 
Where the river of life fioweth freely, 
And her waters unceasingly roll. 
On the hanks of that beautiful river, 
Bleak winter returns no more ; 
All hushed is the sigh of the weeper, 
All silent the tempest’s roar, 
But anthems of praises seraphic 
In the full tide of harmony blend, 
To him who gives light, life and glory, 
And himself to the fallen a friend,— 
0, then will the storms be over, 
0, then the “long agony” cud! 
Lysander, March 4, 185G. 
i h'% Swung, 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LIZZIE B-. 
A SKETCH PROM LIFE, 
“ Were there no graves on Scotia’s soil, 
That here ye come to die ?” 
In the hushed and solemn midnight we stood 
alone beside the dead. Pale and beautiful she 
lay in her snowy winding-sheet; and as the 
soft moonbeams stole in at the open casement, 
and rested on her brow with a tender and holy 
light, we felt almost as if gazing upon the face 
of angel. The sweet repose of those placid 
features told not of the keen anguish which had 
so wrung that breaking heart ere its wild throb- 
bings were forever stilled—for she had passed 
away, with the one, deep, yearning wish of her 
loving spirit unsatisfied. 
Strangers had ministered to the necessities of 
that dying one ; for, save the poor grief-stricken 
mother, bending beneath the infirmities and 
sorrows of three-score years and ten, there were 
“nane of her ain kin beside her” to soothe the 
agony of the last mortal pang. Yet three 
months only had elapsed since that pale-browed 
sleeper was the inmate of a happy home, in the 
dear old Father-land. But a brother’s welcome 
had long awaited her on a foreign shore—and 
even that aged mother grew strong to brave the 
perils of the sea, that she might spend the rem¬ 
nant of her days with all her loved ones around 
her. There was yet another to' claim the fra¬ 
ternal greeting ; for a twelvemonth before, that 
gentle Scottish maiden had yielded the wealth 
of her affections to one she deemed worthy of 
the trust—and Jamie was still at. her side to 
cherish and protect. 
Few were the ties that bound them to their 
native soil. The grey-haired sire had long 
slumbered in the quiet kirk-yard—while of 
those who in other years were grouped around 
the cheerful ingleside, one filled a nameless 
grave beneath a tropic sky, and two had already 
sought a trans-atlantic home. And so, with 
many a glad dream destined never to know 
fruition, they bade a last farewell to the land of 
legend and of song—to its locks and its burns, 
to mountain and to moor. 
The delay of expected letters from America 
had greatly retarded their departure ; and on 
arriving at Liverpool they were told that as the 
season was now so far advanced, it would be 
impracticable for them to reach their point of 
destination by the route proposed. Deceived 
by the misrepresentations of interested and de¬ 
signing persons, they were induced to alter 
their plans and take passage for New York in¬ 
stead of Montreal. A letter was accordingly 
dispatched from Liverpool apprizing the brother 
of this intended change, and requesting him to 
meet them on their arrival. After more than a 
week’s detention all were on board—and ere 
long the shores of England were lost in the Lazy 
distance. 
Many were the discomforts of the crowded 
ship during that protracted voyage ; but at last 
the weary distance was accomplished. They 
had entered the beautiful harbor of New York, 
and soon the ship lay safe at her moorings.— 
Then, with what beating hearts and eager 
glances did they scan each face amidst that 
stranger-crowd, to meet a brother’s smile of re¬ 
cognition. But they looked in vain ! 
Soon came days of darkness and trial—for 
after an interval of anxious expectation, it had 
been decided that the husband should go in 
quest of the absent one. Expenditures, unfore¬ 
seen and unavoidable, had drawn heavily upon 
their resources, and Jamie was obliged to take 
the last remaining sovereign to prosecute his 
journey. The hour of parting had been cheer¬ 
ed by the promise that he “ wud na be long 
awa,” yet paleness gathered on the cheek of 
that young wife and her eye grew dim with 
watching, as time wore slowly on and the be¬ 
loved ones came not. 
But even a more painful experience was 
awaiting the unfortunate strangers. Early left 
by the one who had engaged to look after their 
wants during Mr. B.’s temporary absence, they 
had parted, one by one, with their most valua¬ 
ble articles of clothing, to meet the demands 
against them—until now, in their destitution, 
they were thrust forth by those who denied 
them a longer shelter. Not in vain ascended 
that supplicating cry to “ the Gon of the widow 
and the latherless”—for in this sore extremity 
friends were raised up to grant them a tempo¬ 
rary asylum and supply the urgency of their 
need. Yet when with each succeeding day the 
husband’s return became more hopeless, there 
seemed no choice for them but to proceed to the 
inland town which for years had been the 
brother’s home, and where they hoped he might 
still be found. 
A distance of three hundred and seventy 
miles was before them—but unattended, and 
enfeebled by sickness as Mrs. B. had now be¬ 
come, with the pitiless December blasts chilling 
the very life-blood in their veins, they com¬ 
menced the dreaded journey. Arriving at the 
city of A-, they were obliged to cross the 
ferry on the ice, and had it not been for the 
timely aid of a strong arm, that helpless stranger 
must have sunk down in her utter exhaustion. 
On reaching the place where they were to tarry 
for the night—and with their limbs yet be¬ 
numbed with the intense cold—they were con¬ 
ducted to a wretched attic of the crowded lodg¬ 
ing house. There, beneath the thin covering of 
a narrow and miserable pallet, they shivered 
through the long, dark hours of that sorrowful 
night—while, as if in very mockery of human 
need, even the water which the sufferer had 
craved to allay her consuming thirst, was con¬ 
gealed to ice at her side. 
But the anguish of “ hope deferred,” together 
with the unwonted hardships to which they 
had been subjected, told fearfully upon the sen¬ 
sitive and delicate Lizzie B.—for she had been 
tenderly reared,—and more than once ere they 
reached their destination, the burdened heart 
and overtaxed frame seemed ready to sink un¬ 
der these accumulated ills. The following 
night was spent at C-, and there, too, the 
watching mother feared that her poor child 
“ wad never behold the light of anither morn,” 
—yet again the failing energies of that dying 
one were rallied as for a final effort. The goal 
of promise seemed gained at last, as the stran¬ 
gers were set down at the Hotel in B-. That 
fainting form was lifted with tender care ; for 
they who bore her into a place of rest deemed 
that the death-seal was even then upon her 
brow. But when, in answer to the mother’s 
eager questionings, she was told that her son 
was far away—that many a long league still 
separated from him who would have shielded 
them from every ill—Ike hearts of those deso¬ 
late ones sank within them, “like lead in the 
deep waters.” 
“Nae, mither, I shall never see. Charlie ony 
mair ! ” was the mournful utterance of those 
pale lips, as she whose own heart was well nigh 
breaking sought to whisper the words of cheer. 
That last, lingering hope which had sustained 
her drooping spirit was now swept away— 
and the smitten one bowed down in her des¬ 
pair. On further inquiry it was ascertained 
that the husband, also, had visited B-, only 
to learn that Charles S. was in Canada, where 
he had gone months before to purchase land and 
prepare a home for their reception. Aided by 
the one to whom his necessities were communi¬ 
cated—for his last farthing was now expended 
—Mr. B. had again commenced his search—be¬ 
yond this, nothing was known of him. The 
story of the strangers’ disappointment and des¬ 
titution was soon repeated. The sympathies of 
noble souls were at once awakened in their be¬ 
half ; and the generous bestowment of one long 
acquainted with the brother, was placed in their 
hands, that they might on the morrow pursue 
their way. 
But it was too late! The dying stranger 
could only murmur forth her thanks in the soft, 
musical dialect of her own Lowland home, and 
pray that the blessing of the perishing might 
rest upon all who had befriended them in the 
hour of their need. Medical aid had been early 
summoned, and nothing was left undone that 
could mitigate her sufferings or stay the progress 
of disease. But skill and sympathy were una¬ 
vailing here—for “ the heart's slow fever” they 
knew not how to prescribe. She was grateful 
for the temporary relief, and for the home-care 
that surrounded her ; yet even they who were 
“ sae kind ” could not give that which had been 
above all price—the presence of the absent 
ones ; for the husband of her love, and the play¬ 
mate of her childhood, watched not by her dy¬ 
ing bed. 
Solemn was that chamber as with an invisi¬ 
ble Presence, for the chill dews were gathering 
on that pale forehead, and the toiling breath 
came slow and gaspingly. Suddenly the young 
wife roused from her seeming stupor with alow 
and earnest cry. The dark eyes opened—the 
hands were reached forth—and the wan, slender 
fingers closed with a nervous, eager clasp. 
“ What do you want, Lizzie ?” asked that 
aged mother, as she tottered feebly to her 
daughter’s side. “ O, naething, Mither ; but I 
just thocht somebody had brought a letter for 
me.” 
Alas! there were no tidings to cheer that 
parting anguish, and as the shadows of evening 
closed around, the worn spirit had folded its 
wings “ where the weary are at rest.” But to 
the bereaved and desolate mother that sum¬ 
mons of peace came not! The lamp of life 
burned low, yet its flickering light was not ex¬ 
tinguished. There she sat, hour after hour, her 
face buried in her hands, as if every faculty 
were paralyzed by the fearful stroke that had 
befallen her. “ I am sail’ vexed in spirit, an’ I 
canna help it,” was the one, repeated answer to 
those who kindly inquired after her welfare.— 
Yet, even in this hour of darkness, the faith of 
the Christian triumphed; and she questioned 
not His goodness who had mingled for her this 
cup of untold, bitterness. Letters had been 
dispatched, once and again, since the coming of 
the strangers, and with the faint hope that the 
brother, at least, might arrive, the funeral ser¬ 
vices were for a lime delayed. 
The stricken mourner “ could na look upon 
the face of the dead until the parting-time”— 
yet, as we told her of the angel-smile still lin¬ 
gering on her darling’s lips, the tears rolled 
down her wrinkled cheeks, while with all a 
mother’s fondness she whispered many a gentle 
memory of her lost and sainted child. By the 
efforts of two or three individuals a liberal 
purse was soon made up to defray the necessary 
expenses, and to furnish Mrs. S. with a more 
comfortable outfit. It was an appeal from which 
none turned away. “Nae people could lia’ been 
kinder to me an’ mine, but God will reward ye,” 
was the fervent expression of a full heart, as 
these benefactions were received ; and truly, a 
present recompense was theirs who were privi¬ 
leged to minister to the widow’s comfort and 
lighten the burden of her woe. 
But the morning of the Sabbath had come— 
the first Sabbath of the New Year—and, sum¬ 
moned by the tolling bell, many were gathering 
in to pay a last tribute of respect to the. de¬ 
parted. There sat the mother, surrounded by 
condoling friends, yet alone, as it were, in the 
sacredness of her great sorrow. She had al¬ 
ready taken the final look of that cherished ob¬ 
ject of her affection—her youngest born—the 
light, and hope, and comfort of her declining 
years. 
“ Can this be my Lizzie ?’! she faltered, in 
choked and broken accents, as she bowed down 
upon the coffin- and pressed her quivering lips 
to the cold clay—“ Oh ! can this be my ain 
Lizzie ?” —while the moanings of her heart- 
wrung anguish woke an answering thrill in ev¬ 
ery breast. Tender and touching was the inter¬ 
cession which now uprose to Him who heareth 
prayer, in behalf of that aged and grief-worn 
pilgrim, and eyes unused to tears were dim 
with sorrow for the living as for the dead. How 
beautifully appropriate to that mournful occa¬ 
sion seemed the words of one old, “ I am a 
stranger and a sojourner with you : give me a 
possession of a burying-plane with you, that I 
may bury my dead out of my sight.” 
And so, amid the gently falling rain—while 
the dull, gray clouds hung low like a funeral 
pall—they bore forth the young wife to her 
lonely rest—for it was but a little spot of earth 
_“ a narrow home”—that Scotland’s hapless 
daughter needed now in the land of her adop¬ 
tion. No kindred wept beside that open grave, 
for the poor mother “ could na see her Lizzie 
laid in the cauld ground”—yet pitying hearts 
were there, and lightly were the damp clods 
laid back above the brow of the early dead, 
Then followed another long week of unre¬ 
lieved suspense to her who, like Rachel, was 
weeping for her children ; but when, with its 
closing hours, hope had almost died within her, 
James B., the wanderer, was restored to her 
side. We chanced to witness that sorrowful 
meeting ; and our own heart beat quick and 
painfully, as we beheld thqm grasp each others 
hand in silence and in tears. After a little, the 
cause of his protracted absence was explained. 
On leaving B-, he had proceeded at once by 
railway to Niagara, and crossing the frontier, 
journeyed thence to the place whither he had 
been directed. But here another and unlooked 
for disappointment awaited him. He was told 
that no such person resided there ; and it was 
soon discovered that by a slight but unfortu¬ 
nate mistake, (owing to a close similarity in the 
names of two Provincial towns,) he had come 
to the wrong place, and was now more than 
seventy miles out of his way. 
In this exigence, penniless and disheartened, 
he knew not what course to pursue. Yet no 
time could be lost; and nerved to endurance by 
the thought of those he had left behind, he now 
set out on foot, exposed to all the rigor of a 
Northern winter. For two days and nights he 
traveled on, without rest, and almost without 
food—traversing a section of country but thinly 
inhabited, and more than once losing his way 
before reaching the township last designated. 
Here he was so fortunate as to find his brother- 
in-law, who now for the first time learned that 
his relatives had landed on our shores—the let¬ 
ter from Liverpool having never reached him. 
Unsuccessful in raising a sufficient amount 
to admit of going in person to New York, 
Charles S. proceeded to make such arrange¬ 
ments as would enable his mother and sister to 
join them without difficulty or long delay. For 
this purpose he walked to B-, a distance of 
ten miles, to deposit a letter covering a remit¬ 
tance, and addressed to the care of the one who 
was, as they supjiosed, still acting as friend and 
protector. This remittance was intended to 
meet all charges in New York, and defray their 
expenses to Toronto—the home of a widowed 
sister—where provision was being made for 
their further journey. But when more than 
sufficient time had elapsed for their arrival in 
Canada, Mr. B. could endure the anxiety no 
longer. Yet suffering from the effects of his 
late exposure,—for his feet had been badly 
frost-bitten—he started back for Toronto, hop¬ 
ing to gain some tidings of them. His first 
stopping place was at B-, the post-town al¬ 
ready referred to, and here was found a letter 
from the States, for Charles S., which brought 
the almost crushing intelligence of his wife’s 
decease. Unaware, till now, of their having 
left New York prior to the reception of the 
money which had been sent them, and still ig¬ 
norant of every circumstance attending her ill¬ 
ness and death, he waited only to send back a 
brief line to his brother-in-iaw, and had hur¬ 
ried on to B-, his mind oppressed with the 
most painful forebodings. But the questions 
which had died upon his lips were already 
answered, and words seemed too few and feeble 
to express the grateful emotions of his soul, on 
learning that his dying wife had been cared for 
as if she had been a sister. 
The news of James B.’s arrival spread quick¬ 
ly throughout the community, and at many a 
quiet fireside that night was this added story of 
hardship and suffering narrated. On the mor¬ 
row, in the sanctuary, the case of the afflicted 
strangers was especially remembered. And a 
deeper hush pervaded that silent and tearful 
assembly, as he who ministered at the altar 
thanked them, in the name of his Master, for 
that generous aid and sympathy which had 
been extended to the needy and sorrowing ones, 
so providentially brought into their midst. 
A few days later, the bereaved husband and 
motther were on their way to a distant home— 
but a lowly mound in that rural cemetery is 
still pointed out, as the last resting-place of 
Lizzie B., the Scottish stranger. Marianna 
W est Bloomfield, Feb., 1856. 
COAT OF ARMS 
DEDICATED TO ONE OF THE TERRITORIES. 
AN INTERESTING STORY. 
“Shon, mine shon,” said a worthy German 
father to his hopeful heir of ten years, whom he 
had overheard using profane language—“Shon, 
mine shon, come here and I fill del you a little 
stories. Now, mine shon, shall it be a drue 
stories or a makes-believe ?” 
“ Oh, a true story, of course,” answered John. 
“ Ferry fell, then. Tere vas vonce a goot nice 
oldt shentleman, (shoost like me,) andt he had 
a tirty liddle boy (shoost like you.) Andt von 
day he heard him shwearing, like a young fil- 
lian as he vas. So he vent to the winkle (cor¬ 
ner) and dook out a cowhides, shoost as I am 
toing now, and her took der tirty liddle plack- 
guard by de collar, (dis way, you see !) and 
vollopped him shoost so ! Andt den, mine tear 
shon, he bull his ears dis way, and smack his 
face dat vay, and dell him to go mitout supper, 
shoost as you vill to dis efening.” 
A Grain of the “Assembled Wisdom.”— 
When the subject of the pages’ salaries came 
up before the House the other day, it was pro¬ 
posed to fix the same at a certain sum per diem, 
whereupon a member from the interior arose, 
and asked to “ have the matter fully explained 
before goihg any further. There had been a 
heap of talk about retrcncliin' and reform, and he 
desired to know whether so much per diem, meant 
by the week, or month, or for the term /”— Califor¬ 
nia Paper ! 
Up at Manchester, the other day, a party from 
Boston was examining the factory facilities and 
buildings, and among the rest the force pumps 
that threw water all over the premises. This 
was just as the gills were leaving work, and 
some of them got pretty wet. “You are wash¬ 
ing your girls, Colonel!” said one of the party 
to the master of ceremonies. “Yes,” said he, 
quickly, as the bell sounded for closing the 
work for the day, “Yes, and we are now ring¬ 
ing them out.” 
Young America is growing rapidly. Every 
day we meet with proofs of this encouraging 
fact. Here is one of the latest instances of rapid 
development: “ Have you been to the AstoV 
Library ?” asked a youth of his father a few 
days ago. “ No, I have not,” replied the father. 
“You had better go and see it,” the youth con¬ 
tinued : “Just mention my name to the Libra¬ 
rian, and he will show you every attention.” 
India Rubber Ladders don’t answer as well 
as was supposed. There is a drawback con¬ 
nected with them ; you climb all day without 
getting up any. 
A footman, proud of his grammar, ushered 
into the drawing-room a Mr. Foote and his two 
daughters, -with this introduction : 
“ Mr. Foote and the two Misses Feet.” 
uutij’s Srmm, 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
ENIGMA. 
A sentence of interest, and the opposite of 
degrading idleness, has the following members: 
The 18, 17, 18, 14, 13 is a 
6, 16, 11, 4 and faithful 
12, 18, 8, 3, 7, 4 to the 
7, 16, 15, 8, 13, 5, 1, 10 of 
2, 11, 7, 3, s, 9 manly 
9,16, 5, 13, thus entitling 
8, 1, 9, 16 an 
2, 11, 7, 16, 18, 14, 15, 13, 3 place in every 
12, 14, ra, 5, 13, 10. 
Lodi, N. Y. C. B. Y. 
Answer next week. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
A mercer bought a piece of silk for one hun¬ 
dred and eighty shillings, and the number of 
shillings he paid for a yard was to the number 
of yards as eight to ten. How many yards did 
he buy, and what was the price per yard ? 
Union Springs, N. Y., 1856. A. 0. P. 
Answer next week. 
A Hint.— An exchange says:—“ How young 
men can consent to loaf about the corners as 
they do, when a good dose of arsenic can be 
purchased for a sixpence, is really surprising. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
PHILOSOPHICAL PROBLEM. 
A farmer would dig a well, and prepared a. 
windlass by inserting levers 3 feet long reach¬ 
ing to the Center of the shaft, which was six 
inches in diameter, about which shaft the hoist¬ 
ing rope will wind. Now what weight of earth 
will be raised by a force of 100 lbs. applied to 
the end of the lever, and allowing friction and 
tub to equal 100 lbs. weight. Mary. 
([gif’ Answer next week. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 323: 
Try and solve this Enigma of mine. 
Answer to Problem for the Boys in No. 323 : 
16 years the younger ; 24 years the older. 
A VALUABLE FARM FOR SALE, 
In Arcadia, Wayne Co. N.Y., situated 4!< miles north of Newark, 
and three miles from the Rochester and Syracuse Railroad. Said 
farm contains 323 acres, 150 cleared, the balance well timbered. 
There is upon the farm, an orchard of 700 trees, grafted fruit, 
all in bearing and flourishing condition. The farm is well wa¬ 
tered. The buildings are good ; the house new, convenient and 
in style. A steam sawmill in good order joins the farm. The 
whole or one-half of said farm can be had at a bargain. Terms 
made easy. Inquire of James D. Ford, Newark, or of the sub¬ 
scriber, JOSEPH CALDWELL. 
Marion, Wayne Co., N. Y. 4t-eow. 
WATER-CURE. 
The proprietor of the Dansville Water-Cnre having made 
some important changes in the arrangements and management 
of the establishment, would announce to the public, that it will 
be open for the reception of patients on the first of April. All 
who apply for admission may be assured that every exertion 
will be made to alleviate their infirmities and afford them a 
pleasant home. 
Tile medical department will be under the direction of Dr. 
J. CATLIN and wife, both successful and experienced hydro¬ 
pathic physicians. 
Terms, from five to ten dollars per week, payable weekly.— 
For circulars of particulars address Dr. J. CATLIN, Dansville, 
or the proprietor, A. PENNELL, Iloneoye. 322-3teow. 
MR. JU MRS. SAM’L L. FULLER will receive into 
their family, and educate with their daughters, ten pupils. The 
course of instruction to include English, French, Music and 
Drawing. Their residence is upon a large farm 3j£ miles from 
and in view of Geneva, and the same distance from Waterloo 
For particulars apply to SAM’L L. FULLER. 
319eowl Oaklands Farm, Roso Hill, P. O., Seneca Co., N. Y. 
WHEAT FARM FOR SALE. 
Located in Farmington, Ontario Co., N. Y., 3 miles from Vic¬ 
tor village, and mile south of Brownville. Containing 93 acres; 
soil well adapted for wheat or other crops. Large stone house, 
new barn : peach and apple orchards of choice fruit. Price $5,- 
000. Inquire of JOHN G. ROBINS on the premises, of S 
BOUGHTON, Victor, or the subscriber. East Pembroke, Gene¬ 
see Cotinty. I). C. HOUGHTON. 
February, 1856. 318-lamtf 
AT OFFICE OF RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
Exchange Place, rear of Arcade, Rochester, N. Y. 
MOORE'S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE leading weekly 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY JOURNAL, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
RV I). I> T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Ofliee, Exchange Place, Opposite the Fost-Ofllce. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE : 
Subscription —$2 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, and any additional number at the 
same rate, ($1,50 per copy.) As we are obliged to pre-pay the 
American postage on papers sent to the British Provinces, our 
Canadian agents and friends must add 12>* cents per oopy to 
the club rates of the Rural. 
83“ Subscription money, properly inclosed and registered, 
maybe forwarded at our risk. 
*,* The postage on the Rural is but cents per quarter, to 
any part of the State (except Monroe County, where it goes free,) 
and 6j£ cents to any other section of the United States—payable 
quarterly in advance at the office where receivod. 
Advertising. —Brief and appropriate advertisements will be 
inserted at 25 cents a line, each insertion, payable in advance. 
Our rule is to give no advertisement, unless very brief, more 
than four consecutive insertions. Patent Medicines, Ac., will 
not be advertised in this paper at any price. S3'”'The circula 
tion of the Rural New-Yorker is at least 1m thousand greater 
than that of any other Agricultural or similar journal in the 
World,- and from 20,000 to 30,000 larger than that of any other 
paper published in this State, out of New York city. 
83” All communications, and business lettors, should be ad¬ 
dressed to D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y. 
SPECIAL NOTICES. 
83" Local Agents do not require any certificate, but can 
form clubs upon their own responsibility. Those who wish au¬ 
thority to act as Traveling Agents, must furnish the best of 
recommendations as to integrity, responsibility, Ac., or good 
references in this city. References to persons at a distance are 
useless. 
83" The lowest club price of the Rural New-Yorker is $1,- 
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credited in proportion to the money received. Those who send 
less than the Drice, with request to send the paper a specified 
time or return the money, cannot be accommodated. 
83" In remitting $15, or more, please send draft on New 
York, Albany, Buffalo, or Rochester, (less cost of exchange,) or 
check or certificate of deposit on any Bank in either of said 
cities,—payable to onr order. 
83"Agents.—A ny person so disposed enn act as local agent 
for the Rural, and all who remit according to terms will be 
entitled to premiums, etc. 
