MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
NOV. 15. 
&jpro* ||aeteg. 
THE WAY TO WOO AND WIN. 
BY JAMBS BALLANTINK. 
I lo’ed a proud lassie, I lo’t 1 her for lang, 
I wooed her wi’ pipe, and l w> oed her wi’ sang ; 
I wooed her by streamlet aa bonny green shaw ; 
I wooed her at kirk, and at market an’ a’: 
I proffered nae gowd, and 1 offered no gear, 
I proffered naught but a heart a’ sincere ; 
But gin I came near her, wi’ head cast ajee, 
She cries, “ Play your pranks wi’ some ither than me.” 
V II. 
I heaved mony sighB, an’ I shed mony tears, 
For moments o’ hope 1 had towmonds o’ fears ; 
I gazed an’ I gapit wi’ heart loupin’ fu’, 
My words were sae big that they stuck in my mou’; 
But her lips o’ coral, an’ bosom o’ snaw, 
Seemed hard as the ice that nae summer could thaw ; 
For gin I come near her, wi’ head cast ajee, 
She cries, “ Play your pranks wi’ some ither than me.” 
III. 
Last week on the hairst rig we sure side by side, 
I ettled wi’ kindness to soften her pride ; 
I shure a’ the week for my tel’ an’ her too, 
An’ left the bit lassie but little to do ; 
But, losh ! how my heart lap when down ’mang the com, 
She ask’t me to pick frae her wee hand a thorn ? 
Her head on my bosom fu’ soon fell ajee, 
She sighs, “ Gie you love to nae ither than me.” 
IV. 
Wi’ deeds, no’ wi’ words, thus I won my sweet bride, 
For kindness gets kindness, as floods swell the tide ; 
An’ he who would marry the lassie he lo’es, 
May say what he likes, but maun mind what he does ; 
For virtue is modest an’ near kin to pride ; 
Its no’ very easy sic twinB to divide ; 
She’s weel worth the winning, wha’s head’s cast ajee, 
And cries, “ Play your pranks wi’ anither than me.” 
life's lessens. 
"PAPA GOES THERE” 
BY MBS. CAROLINE A. SOULE. 
« Mayn’t I go with you, papa ? Please say 
I may, won’t you ?” 
The words were uttered in a plaintive and 
sadly entreating tone, the hands of the speaker 
clasping the knees of the listener. 
It was a boy of seven years who lisped them; 
a beautiful boy, with fair, high brow, around 
which there clustered a glorious wreath of au¬ 
burn curls; with dark, flashing eyes; cheeks 
rosy with health ; lips like the cherries of 
summer, and a voice like the birds which taste 
them. There were tears in those eyes at this 
time, though, and the dimpled mouth was 
quivering. 
It’was a man of some five and thirty who 
listened to this plea; a man who had been of 
noble looks and princely bearing. Ay, had 
been I for the blighting truth was written over 
form and face. His locks were matted, his fore¬ 
head scowling, his eyes— red, but not with tears; 
there were furrows on his cheeks, too, and a 
brutish look to the expression of his lips.— 
Twice did the little boy address him ere he 
answered. Then pushing the child rudely from 
him, he said, in a stern voice, “ Ho, no. It’s no 
place for you.” 
Again those fair, small hands encircled the 
knees. 
« You go, papa. Why can’t I too ? Do let 
me go.” 
For a moment the heart of the inebriate 
seemed to wake from its sleep. He shuddered 
as he thought of the character of the place his 
pure-souled boy would enter. He took the 
child tenderly in his arms, and kissed him as 
of old ; then putting him down, he said kindly: 
“You must not ask me again to take you 
there. It is no place for little boys,” and seiz¬ 
ing his hat hurried from the room, murmuring 
to himself, as he paced the way to the brilliant 
bar-room, “ and no place for men either. Would 
to God I had never gone.” 
For a long time Willie stood where his father 
had left him ; then turning to the few embers 
that faintly glowed upon the hearth, he sat 
down in his little chair, and resting his head 
upon his mother’s lap, said, earnestly : 
“ Mamma, why isn’t that pretty store a good 
place for little boys ? Papa loves to go there.” 
It was a trying question for the poor, heart¬ 
broken woman. She had so far kept from her 
son the knowledge of his father’s sin. She 
could not bear that he should look with shame 
upon him, or that his pure and gentle heart 
should thus commune with so intense a grief. 
Kindly she toyed with his long ringlets for 
arwhile, then said endearingly, “Papa knows 
better than you what is best for his little boy. 
When you grow older you will learn why he 
does not wish to take you.” 
Then rising, she carefully put down her babe 
upon its little bed, and tied on her hood and 
cloak. 
• “ Mind the cradle, now, Willie; I’ll come 
back soon, and then you shall have some sup¬ 
per, and a nice fire to sit by, too,” and taking a 
large basket of ironed clothes she went out.— 
A wealthy mother would have been frightened 
at the thought only of leaving so young a boy 
at night-fall all alone with an infaDt to care for, 
and an open fireside to sit beside. But poor 
Mrs. M. knew well she could trust Willie with 
his sister, and as for burning up, there was not 
coals enough to thaw his blue, stiff fingers.— 
No, she did not fear to go and leave him, for he 
had thus been left many a time, and always 
carefully obeyed her. 
And he meant to now ; but poor little fellow! 
his thoughts would wander to that brilliant 
corner store, whither he knew his father always 
went at evening ; and his brain was busy with 
eager wonderings. He knew his father loved to 
go, and knew there must be something that he 
liked, for he never came home again till long 
after Willie was asleep. What lay behind 
those scarlet curtains was a mystery he sought 
in vain to ravel. 
At length he whisjrered eagerly, as if to en¬ 
courage a longiDg wish, “ Papa used to tell me, 
if I wanted to know anything very bad, to per¬ 
severe, and I would find it out. Now 1 do 
want to know what makes him love to go there 
so. I know that there must be pretty things 
behind those windows. I shouldn’t wonder” 
—and his cheeks were glowing—“ if it was like 
a fairy house. Why can’t I go ?” 
Poor Willie! The temptation to know was 
too strong to be resisted ; so he hunted through 
the closet for a candle, for he was a thoughtful 
little fellow, and would not leave his little sis¬ 
ter to the only danger that could menace her. 
He found a bit of a tallow dip, and lighting it, 
drew the stand close to her, that the flame 
might scare away the rats and mice, should they 
sally out ere his return. 
“ I won’t stay long, pretty dear,” said he, 
Dressing a tender kiss on her sleeping lids, and 
orating the blanket close over her fair arms.— 
“ JNo, ’’ll come back soon, but I do so want to 
take one. peep.” 
Swiftly his little feet bore him over the pave¬ 
ment, and in a trice he stood beside the cur¬ 
tained door. 
“ How light it is, and how they laugh and 
talk. It must all be very funny there.” 
A cold, November blast swept around the 
corner as he spoke, penetrating his worn, sum¬ 
mer clothes, and causing his flesh to quiver, and 
his teeth to chatter. 
“I don’t believe they’d hurt me, if I should 
go in awhile ; I am such a little boy, and I am 
so cold out here,” he said, as he pushed the door 
carefully from him, slipping in and closing it 
without a breath of noise. For a moment he 
was bewildered with the light and clatter, and 
half wished he were away. But the warm 
air was grateful to his chilled limbs, and 
finding that no one seemed to notice him he 
stole towards the glowing grate, and spread out 
his purple palms before the blaze. The group 
of men that encircled the bar were drinking 
when he entered. Soon, however, they sat 
down their glasses and dispersed about the 
room. 
“Halloo,” said one, in a loud tone, as going to 
the fire he spied little Willie. “ What are you 
doing here, my little fellow? Who are you? 
and what do you want ?” 
“I don’t want anything, only to seewhatyou 
do here. My name is Willie M. My papa 
loves to come here, and it looked so pleasant 
through the window, I thought I’d like to.— 
But I must not stay long, for I’ve left the baby 
alone.” 
The man’s toiflfe were softened as he spoke 
again to him. 
“ And where is your mother, boy ?” 
“ O, she’s gone to take home the wash, sir.— 
Papa don’t have as much work as he used to 
once, and we’re very poor now, and she has to 
help him.” 
“ And does it look as pleasant in here as you 
thought it would, my child ?” 
“ O, yes, it does, sir. I don’t wonder papa 
loves to come here so much, it’s so cold and 
dark at home. But I should think he’d bring 
mamma and me and little sis. How she would 
laugh to see this fire and all those pretty bot¬ 
tles, and those flowers with lights in them.— 
Please sir,” and he earnestly seized the rough 
hands of the listener, “please, sir, tell me why 
little boys can’t come here with their fathers ?” 
“ For God’s sake do not tell him, Bancroft!” 
said a deep, anguished voice. “ He deems me 
pure and holy. Heavens ! what a wretch I 
am ! My boy, my boy !” and Willie was clasp¬ 
ed in his father’s arms—“you have saved me, 
saved me from earth’s vilest liell. Here, with 
my hand upon thy sinless brow, I promise 
never again to touch the cup I have drank so 
deep. And my brothers in sin, as you value 
your soul’s salvation, tempt me not to break my 
vow. Help me, Heaven—help me, men, so to 
live, hereafter, that papa may never blush to 
take his boy along—that if papa goes there 
Willie may go too.” 
Silently the door closed after them, and si¬ 
lence dwelt in the saloon behind them. The 
preacher had been there in cherub form, and 
crazy, loose, unholy thought, or light and ribald 
jest was hushed. One by one they stole away, 
and many a wife wore smiles that night; nor 
did the old bar-tender, eveD, curse the little 
one that robbed him of so many dimes. Too 
deeply in his heart had sunk the voice of that 
cherub preacher. 
“Don’t you like me, papa ? Are you cross 
at me ?” asked Willie, in a hesitating tone, as 
they stood a few moments on the pavement; for 
the scene in the bar-room was an enigma to the 
child, and he half feared a reproof. 
“ I was thinking what mamma would like 
best for supper,” said the father. 
“Was you ? was you ?” was the eager ques¬ 
tion, in a gladsome voice. “ 0 then I know 
you ain’t cross. O, getoysters and crackers and 
tea, papa; and a candle, ’cause there is only a 
piece. And please papa, tell mamma not to be 
cross at me, ’cause I left the baby. I don't be¬ 
lieve she will though, ’cause you know if I 
hadn’t gone as I did, you wouldn’t perhaps 
have come home yet, and she does love to have 
you home so much. Oh, I feel just like crying, 
I am so glad.” 
| (“And I feel like crying,” too, said his father, 
solemnly ; and ere midnight he did cry, and his 
wife, too, but they were holy tears, washing his 
heart of the dust that had gathered on its beau¬ 
ty, and hers of the sorrow that had draped it as 
a pall.— Flag of our Union. 
Traits of character which you seek to con¬ 
ceal, you had much better seek to reform. 
BAIN OR NO BAIN. 
The little parish of Yellowdale farmers had 
long been without a minister. One Rev. Mr. 
Surely visited the village, and was invited to 
stay over Sunday, and preach for them. The 
people were pleased with his sermons, and 
some were anxious to have him stop. A meet¬ 
ing was called to know the mind of the parish. 
“I don’t see any use’n having a minister,” said 
Sharp, a rich old farmer ; “ a parson can’t learn 
me anything. If we have any money to spare, 
we had better lay it out in something that will 
bring a fair return.” The Sabbath-loving part 
of the people urged strongly against him.— 
“Well,” answered Sharp, not choosing to show 
himself convinced, “I’ve heard tell of minis¬ 
ters that could make prayer for rain, and bring 
it; if we could hit one of that sort, I’d go in 
for hiring him.” 
Mr. Sharp was a man of consequence, and the 
younger and less knowing of his neighbors were 
quite taken with the idea. “ That would be a 
minister worth having,” they thought. And 
after much talk, it was agreed to hire Mr. Surely 
on this condition—that he would give them 
rain or fair weather when they wanted it; for 
their farms suffered both from severe droughts 
and heavy rains. Mr. Surely was immediately 
waited upon by a committee of the parish, who 
soon came back, bringing the minister with 
them. “I will accept your terms upon one 
condition,” said he, “ that you must agree upon 
what sort of weather you want.” This appear¬ 
ed reasonable, and matters were arranged for a 
year's stay at Yellowdale. 
Weeks passed on, bringing midsummer heats. 
For three weeks it had not rained, and the 
young com was beginning to curl with drouth. 
Now for the minister’s promise. “Come,” said 
Sharp, with one or two others whose hilly farms 
were suffering, “ we need rain; you remember 
your promise ?” 
« Certainly,” answered the minister; “ call a 
meeting.” A meeting was called. “Now,my 
friends,” said the pastor, “ what is it you want ?” 
“ Rain, rain,” shouted half a dozen voices. 
“ Very well; when do you want it ?” 
“ This very night, all night long,” said Sharp, 
to which several assented. 
“ No, no ; not to-night,” cried Mr. Smith.— 
“ I’ve six or seven tons well made hay out; I 
would not have it wet for anything.’-’ 
“ So have I,” added Mr. Peck ; “ no rain to¬ 
night.” 
« Will you take it to-morrow ?” said the minis¬ 
ter. But it would take all to-morrow to get it 
in. So objections came up for two or three 
next days. “ In four days, then ?” said Mr. 
Surely. 
“Yes,” cried Sharp, all the hay will be in, 
and no more can be cut till-” 
“Stop, stop !” cried Mrs. Sharp, pulling her 
husband smartly by the sleeve, “ that day we 
have set to go to SnoWhill. It inusn’t rain 
then. ” 
In short the meeting resulted in no conclu¬ 
sion at all, for it was found quite impossible to 
agree. 
“Until you make up your minds,” said the 
pastor, on leaving, “ we must all trust to the 
Lord.” 
Both Mr. Smith, and Mr. Peck got their hay 
in, but on th^ day the Sharps were to go to 
Snowhill, it seemed to rain in good earnest.— 
Sharp lost his visit, but his crops gained. 
And so it happened once or twice again. The 
year rolled by, and the people could never all 
agree upon what kind of weather they wanted. 
Mr. Surely, of course, had no occasion to ful¬ 
fil his contract, and the result was that they 
began to open their eyes to the fact that this 
world would be a strange place if its inhabi¬ 
tants should govern rain. They saw that na¬ 
ture’s laws could be safely trusted in the hands 
of nature’s God. 
it anti Inracu 
Eight kinds of Women. —The obstinate woman 
gets to sea in a bandbox. The patient woman 
roasts an ox with a burning-glass. The curi¬ 
ous woman would like to turn a rainbow over 
to see what there was on the other side. The 
vidgar woman is a spider attempting to spin 
silk. The cautious woman writes promises on 
a slate. The envious woman kills herself in en¬ 
deavoring to lace tighter than her neighbors.— 
The extravagant woman burns a wax candle in 
looking for a lucifer match. The happy woman 
died in a deaf and dumb asylum years ago. 
A lady being in want of a dyer, was referred 
to an excellent workman and something of a 
wag in his line. The lady called and asked : 
“Are you the dying man ?” “ No, ma’am, I’m 
a living man, but I’ll dye for you,” promptly 
replied the man of many colors, putting the 
emphasis where it was needed. 
Brother Jonathan thus describes a steam¬ 
boat—“ It’s got a saw mill on one side, and a 
grist mill on t’other, and blacksmith’s shop in 
the middle; and down cellar there is a tarna¬ 
tion great pot boiling all the time.” 
The satire in this renders the poetry passable; 
Two lovely ladies dwell at-, 
And each a-churching goes; 
Emma goes there to close her eyes , 
And Jane to eye her clothes. 
Cowles, in his excellent history of plants, 
notices the virtue of hemp thus laconically :— 
“By this cordage ships are guided, bells are 
rung, and rogues are kept in awe.” 
An artist painted a cow and a cabbage so nat¬ 
ural that they had to be separated—the cow 
having commenced eating the cabbage. 
tern 
CURIOUS SIENAMES. 
Friend Moore :—The following classification 
of names I have prepared for the Rural New- 
Yorker, to be inserted under the head of 
“Youth’s Department,” for the amusement of 
that class of your readers, which I know, is not 
small. It is the result of detached moments of 
time which I have devoted to its preparation. 
I sent a copy, (though much more imperfect 
than the present,) to the “Sussex (N. Y.) Reg¬ 
ister,” some months ago. After its publication, 
I concluded to revise it, and add considerably. 
If you 6hall deem it of sufficient interest, in¬ 
sert ; if not, commit to the company of many 
other similarly judged productions.—c. c. p. 
1. Of Earths, &c. —Clay, Flint, Gravel, Mudd; 
Sands, Slate, Marble, Stone, Brick. 
2. Metals. —Gold, Irons, Steel. 
3. Lands .— Boggs, Dale, Fern, Field, Hill, 
Knowles, Marsh, Meadows, Park, Rhoades, 
Lane, Street, Yard. 
4. Waters. —Brooks, Fountain, Lake, Pond, 
Poole, Rivers, Spring, Waters, Welles. 
5. Woods, dec. — Ash, Beach, Birch, Elder, 
Elms, Maples, Oakes, Pine, Thorn, Tree,Bush, 
Brush, Burr, Thistle, Wood, Forest. 
6. Quadrupeds. —Baer, Badger, Beaver, Bull, 
Bullock, Buck, Cattell, Catts, Colt, Doe, Fox, 
Hare, Hart, Hogg, Lamb, Lyon, Tiger, ftoe, 
Steers, Wolfe. 
7. Fowls. —Bird, Crane, Crow, Drake, Fowle, 
Eagle, Hawk, Goslin, Jay, Martin, Nightingale, 
Partridge, Parrot, Peacock, Pigeon, Quail, Rob¬ 
bins, Snipe, Spinks, Starling, Swan, Wren. 
8. Finny Tribes. —Bass, Chubb, Eells, Fish, 
Herring, Haddock, Pike, Pickerell, Pollock, 
Salmon, Sturgeon, Trout. 
9. Grains, dec. —Bean, Berry, Korn, Lemmon, 
Oats, Rice, Wheat, Pease, Plum, Perry. 
10. Buildings and their parts. —Church, Bell, 
Pew; Castle, Banks, Barnes, Shedd; House, 
Kitchen, Hall, Chamber, Garrett, Roof, Beam, 
Sill, Case, Stairs; Mills, Bridge, Tower. 
11. The Floral World. —Budd, Blossom, Flow¬ 
ers, Lilly, Rose. 
12. Apparel. —Coats,Boots, Stockings, Scherts, 
Hatt. 
13. Colors. — Black, Brown, Dunn, Gray, 
Green, Purple, Scarlet, White. 
14. Time. —May, June, Winter, Spring, Som¬ 
ers, Weeks, Day, Doubleday. 
15. Nations. —English, French,German,Danes 
Swiss, Irish, Scott, Welsh, England, Ireland, 
France, Spain. • 
16. Occupations. — Baker, Butcher, Butler, 
Binder, Brazier, Carman, Carter, Carpenter, 
Carver, Cartwright, Cleaver, Cook, Cooper, 
Drainer, Farmer, Fisher, Fowler, Fuller, Hunt¬ 
er, Mason, Merchant, Miner, Naylor, Porter, 
Potter, Reeder, Rider. Sailor, Slaton, Sawyer. 
Shoemaker, Slaymaker, Spinner, Shepherd, 
Tanner, Taylor, Tinker, Turner, Weaver, Web¬ 
ster, Wainwright, Boardman, Bridgman, Cheese- 
man, Chapman, Silkman; Roper, Soper, Bar¬ 
ber, Shaver, Shearer, Cutter, Slicer, Hackett, 
Hewitt, Cutting, Sawin; Walker, Wheeler, 
Runner; Ostler, Dyer, Paynter, Currier, Plumb¬ 
er, Drummer, Fiddler, Filer, Hornblower, Piper. 
17. Miscellaneous. —Wall, Gates, Post; Stubbs, 
Stumps, Chipps ; Graves, Toombs; Hay, Flagg, 
Reed, Rush, Weed ; Small, Little, Long, Short, 
Stiff, Stout, Strong ; Head, Boddy, Arms, Hand, 
Legg, Shinn, Shank, Foote; Mann, Parent, 
Child, Children ; Masters, Lord ; Rich, Poor ; 
Wild, Wilder, Savage, Sage, Wise ; Root, 
Branch, Stem, Twiggs ; Cannon, Gunn, Swords, 
Spear, Shields; Crouch, Springer; Wade,Ford; 
Potts, Kettle, Barrell, Tubbs, Pitcher, Glass, 
Bowels ; Frost, Ice, Snow, Fogg ; Whistler, 
Singer, Barker, Bray ; Neighbor, Friend ; Fur¬ 
ness, Cole, Bellows, Fires; Warden, Tyler; 
Cotton, Silk, Wool; Flock, Hurd ; Chase, 
Ketcham, Kissam, Cheatham, Killum; King, 
Queen, Prince, Duke, Earl, Constable; Butts, 
Locke, Keyes; Hooke, Barrow, Hoes, Sickles; 
Goode, Goodenough, Twogood; Cross, Sweet, 
Pleasants; Mingle, Mix; Fair, Clear, Bright, 
Grimm, Gay ; Bread, Cake, Rusk, Dollar, Pen¬ 
ny, Pound, Pence ; Card, Combs ; Crook, 
Wright, Straight; Joy, Lovejoy, Tears, Bliss; 
Moon, Starr; Buss, Burns, Sears ; Ray, Light; 
Young, Olds. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA—ACB.OSTICAL. 
I am composed of 11 letters. 
My 1, 7,11 is a beverage. 
My 2, 4, 10, 7 is a female. 
My 3, 4, 5, 11 is an article of food. 
My 4, 8, 11, 3 is a Latin word. 
My 5, 9, 8, 4, 5, 7, 11 is a part of yourself. 
My 6, 3, 1, 7 is a range of mouatains; 
My 7,1, 9, 3,1 is a lady’s name. 
My 8, 11, 7, 7, 11, 3 is a certain profession. 
My 9,10, 1, 7 is a range of mountains. 
My 10, 4, 8, 6, 1, 7 signifies a rite. 
My 11, 1, 10 is a part of the body. 
My whole is a healthy and profitable employ¬ 
ment. A. R. 
Syracuse, N. Y 
Answer next week. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 357: 
—Search the Scriptures. 
Answer to Trigonometrical Problem in No. 
357 :—5 feet, 4.8468 inches. 
Answer to Poetical Enigma in No. 357 :— 
Brook. 
Spiders’ Webs. —Spiders have four paps for 
spinning their threads, each pap having one 
thousand holes; and the fine web itself is 
the union of four thousand tnreads. No spider 
spins more than four webs, and when the forth 
has been destroyed, they go fillibustering and 
seize on the webs of their neighbors’. 
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THREE DOLLARS, in Cash, (or the above named 
Dictionary,) to every one remitting for twenty-five sub¬ 
scribers. [Agents can retain the cash for Specific Premi¬ 
ums, deducting it from remittance.] 
To every one remitting for twenty subscribers we will 
give two extra copies of the Rural and the 9th and 10th 
(or any other two) volumes of the Wool Grower and 
Stock Register—or a handsomely bound volume of the 
Rural for 1856, (price £3 ) or either Harper’s, Putnam’s, 
Graham’s, GodeyA or the Knickerbocker Mag. for 1857. 
To every one remitting for fifteen subscribers, an 
extra copy of Rural and either volume of the VV. G. & S. 
ft.— or a copy of either the Horticulturist, Arthur’s 
Magazine, or any other $2 periodical. 
To every one remitting for ten subscribers, an extra 
copy of the Rural and either volume of the W. G. & S. R. 
To every one remitting for six copies ($10.) an extra 
copy of the Rural. 
$300 MORE! 
In addition to all other Premiums, we will give abound 
volume of the Rural for 1856, (cash price $3,) to each 
of the one hundred persons sending the first lists of 
twenty or more subscribers for 1857, according to Terms! 
ffjjf Now is the Time to commence the Canvass, and as 
every one who forms a Club of six or more is 'sure of some 
premium, we trust at least one person in each town ni l at 
once enter upon the Rural Campaign. But little effort is 
necessary to obtain a handsome list (and thus secuie a 
valuable Premium,) at almost any post-office. 
TEEMS, 114 ADVANCE : 
Two Dollars a Year. Three Copies one year, for $5 
— Six Copies for $10 —Ten Copies for $15, and any addi¬ 
tional number at same rate , ($1,50 per copy.) As we pre¬ 
pay Americanposlage on papers sent to British Provinces, 
Canadians must add one York shitting to club rale — 
making the lowest price $1,62^ per copy. Club papers 
sent to different Post-offices if desired, and numes can be 
added at any time. 
Specimen Numbers, Show Bills, Prospectuses, &e., 
furnished free to all who are disposed to compete for 
Premiums, or who desire to aid in extending the circula¬ 
tion of the Rural. Subscription money should be 
properly inclosed, and carefully addressed and mailed to 
D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y. 
November, 1856. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LEADING WEEKLY 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY JOURNAL, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY I>. «. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Office, Daily Union Building, Opposite the Court House. 
TERMS IN ADVANCE: 
Subscription— $2 a year—$1 or 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 tho 
same rate, ($1,50 per copy.) As we are obliged to pre-pay the 
American poslago on papers sent to the British Provinces, our 
Canadian agents and friends must add 12j£ ceuts per copy to 
the club rates of the Rural. 
Advertising.— Brief and appropriate advertisements will 
be inserted at 25 cents a line each insertion, payahl in ad¬ 
vance. Our rule is to give no advertisement, unless very brief 
more than lour consecutive insertions. Patent Me iicincs, <Sc.. 
will not be advertised in the Rural at any price 
