MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
NOV. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MU3INGS IN A GRAVEYARD. 
BY WM. G. MKaCHKM. 
Amid the graves of buried ones I stand, 
In stillness musing upon death and life— 
These voiceless tenants of the silent land, 
The living world’s unceasing turmoil, strife, 
On either side are lying scattered here 
Forme once replete wiih beauty’s charms and grace ; 
But soon rolled round the autumn of life’s year— 
They withered, dropped in their last resting place. 
Here may lie burled Intellect’s huge brain. 
That grappled oft with science’s giant laws ; 
By mightier One, at length himself was slain, 
Then crushed by grave’s insatiable jaws. 
Here, too, may lie the mould’ring dust of him 
Upon whose lips enraptured audience hung, 
The burning of his eloquence grew dim— 
Now chilled in ieath is that once glowing tongue. 
Here, too, may rest what is left of him who soared 
Through vast immensity’s outstretching space, 
’Mid planets, suns and moons, till at last low’r’d, 
By death’s sure aim, to this his resting place. 
Perohance here sleeps his latest slumber out 
A bard divine—his pen entwined with flow’rs, 
Whose fragrant sentence—zephyrs bore about— 
Now passed away are his poetic hours. 
Here earthly Pride has fallen, and how low 1 
Rank, Honor now laid level with the ground. 
Bnconffined, all their vanity and show 
In trembliDg silence wait the trumpet's sound. 
And here’s a mound that marks the hallowed spot 
Where sweetly rests, in hope again to rise, 
Once tenant of a love-embowered cot, 
Pure Innocence, a native of the skies. 
Here, deeply stretched beneath the verdant sod, 
Lie Christian Fortitude aDd burning Zeal: 
They suffered sorely persecution’s rod, 
But now are triumphing in endiess weal. 
And here’s entombed a lonely widow’s dust. 
Through many a ling’ring year of pinchiDg want, 
In God reposed her confidence and trust; 
His gracious presence her accustomed haunt. 
Here lies an orphan child’s defenceless head, 
Bereavt d, by death, of kind parental care, 
A short-spanned life of loneliness he led— 
Of earthly woe how bitter his large share 1 
And here’s a princely monumental stone, 
O’er cankered Wealth and bloated Pride upreared, 
In life they mocked Omnipotence’s high throne ; 
In death they’re both unwept for and unfeared. 
And here, beneath the shadow of that pile, 
A grassy knoll conceals from human eye 
An humble child of honest care and toil— 
Now side by side Wealth, Poverty here lie ! 
Inexorable Death, great leveler of all, 
Before thy ghastly face the high, the low, 
The simple, wise, kings and their vassals fall, 
And from their mingled dust the wild flow’rs grow! 
O ! what a vast receptacle is here 
Of crushed expectancies, of frosted aim, 
Of withered hopes, joy’s yellow leaf and sere, 
Affections blasted, lowly drooping shame, 
Ambition’s proudly-soaring pinion nipped, 
And unsubstantial vanity’s display, 
Of fond desires by disappointment clipped, 
And pleasures faded, erst so fragrant, gay 1 
Here, too, the whit’ning skeletons’ repose 
Of sorrow, grief, revenge, hate, anger, pain ; 
And that far lovelier band, the former’s foes, 
True joy, forgiveness, friendship, ease are lain. 
O 1 thou insatiable monster, Grave, 
Thou gath’rest momently thy thousands in, 
Yet ceasest not continually to crave 1 
O ! thou Insatiable Child of Sin ! 
A BACHELOR’S BUTTON. 
A celebrated wit once said he had found out 
a patent “ slip button,” so that when a bore laid 
hold of him, and was detaining him with along 
story, he had only to slip the button, leaving it 
in the bore’s fingers, and make his escape. The 
contrivance was an ingenious and valuable one, 
and had the inventor, as he threatened, taken 
out a patent, many would doubtless have adopt¬ 
ed the useful article. 
There are occasions, however, when a slip 
button is more necessary than even in the case 
above referred ; and, in illustration of my mean¬ 
ing, allow me to recite the following adventure: 
Some years ago, when I was a single man, 
and dreaming (as some single men do) of double 
bliss some day destined to arrive, I went to a 
concert at the Town Hall of-. Music is, 
poetically and proverbially, “ the food of love,” 
and in my sentimental state I consumed a good 
deal of it; not that I had any object in view. 
Mine was abstract love ; I cultivated it, I in¬ 
creased my stock, so that I might have a good 
deal of the tender passion in hand, whenever I 
saw an eligible opportunity of investing it.— 
Well, to return to the concert; it was crowded 
to excess, and the rush, on leaving, to reach flys 
and carriages, was very great. I wore on that 
memorable night a blue coat with brass but¬ 
tons, and I flattered myself there were worse 
looking men in the room. I tell you candidly 
I’admired myself, and next to myself, the other 
party I was most struck with was a fine girl, 
with dark eyes and black hair, who sat with 
some friends a few forms distant. I hoped she 
noticed me and my blue coat, with brass but¬ 
tons. I looked at her often enough to attract 
her attention to both ; and being, as my friends 
would say, in rather a spooney state, worked 
myself in a towering passion —of love. But 
how was I to come at the object of my admira¬ 
tion, for I was as diffident as devoted—“as shy 
as I was vain ” as an over-candid friend once 
said. « God save the Queen,” which concluded 
the concert, surprised me, as unprepared as on 
my first glance to “improve occasion,” and the 
company were shoaling out, while I stood 
mutely gazing after the object of my love at 
first sight. She and her party eddied for a 
while by the inner door of the concert room, 
and were then drawn out into the retiring cur¬ 
rent, and lost to sight. 
I followed quickly after, lest I should lose 
forever all opportunity of identifying my idol ; 
but, alas ! the lights in the outer corridor were 
so few and so far between, that “ no glimpse of 
my star could I get.” I pushed aud elbowed 
fiercely through the crowd, with a view of get¬ 
ting to the outer door before my fair one’s party 
had emerged, and thns gaining once more a 
sight of my sweeting. 
“ Hang it 1” I muttered, impatiently, as I felt 
a tug at my coat-skirt, and was instantly con¬ 
scious of one of my hind buttons having hitch¬ 
ed to some lady’s dress ; my progress was sud¬ 
denly arrested. “ How provoking,” thought I, 
as I was brought to a stand, for I could not push 
on without losing a button or tearing a dress; 
“ how provoking the modern fashions ; a lady 
now has as many hoops, as many tentacles 
about her apparel as a sea anemone.” It was 
with some irritation I stopped to undo the but¬ 
ton, but my hurry made the task more difficult, 
and instead of undoing, I only bungled and 
more twisted the loop round the button. 
“ Please to let me try,” said the lady herself, 
as I bungled over the business ; she ungloved 
her hand—it was a sweet white hand; so I 
looked at her face. Stars and gaiters! but it 
was the very fair one, black hair and dark eyes, 
I was in pursuit of. As she stooped over the 
entangled button, a slight flush tinted her 
cheek. Oh, it was delicious. I hoped she nev¬ 
er would undo the loop; and, indeed, she would 
not, for her fingers were twitching nervously, 
and my heart was beatiDg audibly. I tried to 
help her ; our fingers met. 
“ Please to make way there,” shouted a gruff 
voice behind. We were blocking up the pas¬ 
sage ; was there ever such an unlucky spot for 
so lucky an entanglement ? 
“You hinder the people from going out, 
Amie,” exclaimed one of her companions with 
some asperity ; “ plague upon the tiresome loop, 
break it 1” and suiting the action to the word, 
the speaker leaned forward, caught the sleeve 
of her beautiful friend’s dress in one hand, and 
my coat tail in the other, and giving a quick 
and decided tug, severed us. The crowd be¬ 
hind bore on, and we were separated; not, how¬ 
ever, before I gave my “ star” a look which I 
intended to speak volumes. I thought she did 
not seem unconscious of my meaning—our eyes 
met, I know, and this was the only consolation 
left me, for immediately afterwards I lost her 
and her party to view in the darkness outside. 
Cruel fate 1 That night I hardly closed my 
eyes, thinking of my “ bright particular star,” 
and what means I should employ to find her 
out. I knew little of the town, which was a 
large one, and to expect to know the name of 
my fair one by a mere description was hope¬ 
less; there doubtless must be a great many with 
dark eyes and black hair within the “ bills of 
mortality” there, as elsewhere. After breakfast 
next day I sallied forth from my hotel, and 
walked the town in hope of seeing her, but no 
trace of the lovely one could I find, though I 
started off in pursuit of many a “ singular fig¬ 
ure” in the streets, only to discover, on my 
overtaking each object of my pursuit, that she 
was not the one I longed to see. 
My love fit grew more and more violent in 
the course of the dav ; but tired out at length 
with my search, I returned to the hotel, and 
took out my dress-coat from my portmanteau to 
feed my flame even with the contemplation of 
the inanimate button that had detained the 
“ black-ejed divinity” so long. It was with no 
little delight I now discovered what did not be¬ 
fore catch my eye—a fragment of the silk loop 
of her dress still adhered to the button, twisted 
round the shank. I pressed it to my lips; it 
was lilac in color—and stooped to gently disen¬ 
tangle it from the hit of brass as gently as tho’ 
it were a tress of my loved one’s hair, when 
something clinked in the skirt pocket. I sup¬ 
posed I had left some money there, for in my 
perturbation and excitement I omitted to search 
the coat on taking it off the night before. I 
thrust my hand into the pocket. Gracious me! 
What did I behold, what did I take out—a gold 
chain bracelet 1 
You could have “brained me with my lady’s 
fan.” I saw at a glance how matters stood—in 
the excitement and flurry of undoing the loop 
from my button, the lady had undone the clasp 
of her own bracelet, which had notunnaturally 
fell into the coat-skirt with which she was en¬ 
gaged, and doubtless, on missing it, instead of 
regarding me in a romantic light, she put it 
down that I was one of the swell mob, and had 
purposely entangled myself in her dress to rob 
her of her jewelry. 
Here was an antic-heroic position to find 
one’s-self, when I wished to be considered the 
most devoted of knights, to be remembered on¬ 
ly as the most expert of pickpockets! Was 
ever an honest lover in such a plight, and to 
make it worse, I could not see how I was to es- 
ca e from this inevitable dilemma. I must go 
down to the grave remembered only in that 
dear one’s mind as the nefarious purloiner of 
her bracelet. To find her out was impossible ; 
but a bright idea struck me, as my eye lighted 
on a newspaper lying on the coffee-room table. 
I raug the bell, and inquired of the waiter when 
the local paper was published. « To-morrow, 
sir,” he answered. I sat down and wrote an 
advertisement; it w-s in the following words : 
“ If the lady, whose dress got entangled in a 
gentleman’s coat button, in leaving the concert 
last Wednesday, will call ator send to the Arch’s 
Head Hotel, she will hear something to her ad¬ 
vantage.” 
There, I thought, as I gave the advertisement 
to the waiter, and five shillings to pay for its 
insertion in the Sentinel—there, if that will not’ 
give me a clue to escape from a very unpleasant 
dilemma, and at the same time to know who my 
enchanter is, the fates must indeed be very un- 
propitious. 
My plans being thus so far adopted, I order¬ 
ed dinner, and waited patiently, or rather im¬ 
patiently, the appearance of the newspaper next 
morning. It was b. ought up to my room damp 
from the press, and then I read, in all the glory 
of large type, my interesting announcement.— 
But, my stars! with what an advertisement 
was it followed, in the very same column. I 
only wonder my hair did not stand on end, as I 
read as follows : 
REWARD. 
“ Lost, or stolen, on the night of the concert, 
at the Town Hall, a Gold Chain Bracelet. It is 
thought to have been taken from the lady’s arm 
by a pickpocket, of gentlemanly appearance, 
who wore a blue coat with brass buttons, and 
kept near the lady on her leaving the hall. 
“Any one giving such information as will 
lead to the recovery of the bracelet, or the cap¬ 
ture of the thief, (if it was stolen,) will receive 
the above reward, on applying to 7 Cambridge 
Parade.” 
Here was a pretty plight—to be advertised in 
the public papers as a pickpocket, when my 
only crime was like Othello’s, that of 
“ LoriDg, not wisely, but too well." 
My determination, however, was quickly 
adopted. I went up stairs, put on the very 
identical delinquent blue coai, so accurately de¬ 
scribed, and, taking the paper in my hand, pro¬ 
ceeded to 7 Cambridge Parade. 
I knocked at the door, and asked the servant 
who answered the name of the family. Having 
heard it, I said—“ Is Miss A-in ?” 
“ Yes, sir,” replied the servant-woman, “who 
Bhall I say wants her?” 
“ Tell her,” I replied, “ that the pickpocket, 
with a gentlemanly address, and blue coat, with 
brass buttons, who stole her bracelet, is here 
and wishes to return it to her.” 
The woman stared at me as though I were 
mad, but on repeating my request to her, she 
went in and delivered my message. 
Soon there came out, not my fair one, 
“ With all that’s best of dark and bright, 
Meeting in aspect and in eyes,” 
but a stalwart brother. 
“That,” I said, handinghim the bracelet, “ is 
Miss A-’s property; and though, as you 
perceive, I wear a blue coat, with brass buttons, 
and am flattered to think my manners are not 
ungentlemanly, I am bound in candor to say I 
am not a pickpocket.” 
“Then, sir, you shall have the reward,” said 
the brother, taking out his purse. 
“No," I replied, “for strange as it may ap¬ 
pear, though I am no pickpocket, I stole the 
lady’s bracelet.” 
The man looked puzzled ; but when I told 
the truth, and pointed to my advertisement in 
the same paper, as a proof I did not want to 
walk off with the property ; he laughed hearti¬ 
ly at the whole story, and not the least at his 
sister’s description of the gentlemanly pick¬ 
pocket. 
“Well,” he said, “you had better walk in 
and have tea with us, and my sister will be able 
to say whether she can speak to your identity, 
after which it will be time enough to canvass 
the propriety of sending for a constable.” 
You may be assured I accepted the invita¬ 
tion. Need I go further with the story. The 
young lady (to use the words of the advertise¬ 
ment) captured the pickpocket herself and re¬ 
ceived the reward, such reward being the said 
pickpocket. The bachelor’s button no longer 
adorns my blue coat, and I now have framed 
and glazed over the fireplace, the advertise¬ 
ment, in which I am publicly described by my 
own wife, as “ a pickpocket, with a gentleman¬ 
ly address.” When I charge her with the libel, 
she always does what she Las just this mo¬ 
ment done, pay damages for the slander in any 
amount of kisses, declaring, though not a pick¬ 
pocket, I was a thief, and stole her heart and 
pocketed her bracelet. 
So ends the story of “ A Bachelor’s But¬ 
ton.”— Selected. 
THE MAIDEN’S FIRST LOVE. 
Human nature has no essence more pure—the 
world knows nothing more chaste— heaven has 
endowed the mortal heart with no feeling more 
holy—than the nascent effect of a young vir¬ 
gin’s soul. The warmest language of the sunny 
south is too cold to shadow forth even a faint 
outline of that enthusiastic sentiment. And 
God has made the richest langauge poor in that 
same respect, because the depths of hearts that 
thrill with love’s emotion are too sacred for con¬ 
templation. The musical voice of love stirs the 
source of the human breast, and steals into the 
most profound recesses of the soul, touching 
chords which never vibrated before, and calling 
into gentle companionship delicious hopes until 
then unknown. 
Yes, the light of a young maiden’s love 
breaks dimly but beautifully upon her, as the 
silver lustre of a star glimmers through a thickly 
woven bower, and the first blush that mantles 
her cheeks, as she feels the primal influence, is 
pure and faint as that which a rose leaf might 
cast upon marble. But how rapidly does that 
grow stronger, that flash deeper—until the pow¬ 
erful effulgence of the one irradiates every 
corner of the heart, and the crimson glow of the 
other suffuses every feature of her countenance. 
Napoleon once asked Madam Campan what 
the French nation most wanted. “Mothers," 
she replied. It was a wise and beautiful an¬ 
swer. Ask me what the Church of God wants 
next to earnest ministers, and I answer— intel¬ 
ligent, earnest, pious mothers. 
In conversation, humor is more than wit, 
easiness more than knowledge. Few desire to 
learn, or to think they need it; all desire to N 
be pleased, or if not, to be easy. 
lit sub llttmm:. 
“FISHERMEN’S LUCK,” 
A party of ambitious aDglers, more enthusi¬ 
astic than experienced, recently took an excur¬ 
sion up the Alleghany, for the purpose of doiDg 
immense damage among the finny tribes.— 
They were away just seventeen hours, and on 
returning made a statistical report of their suc¬ 
cess. The Pittsburgh Chronicle furnishes the 
following account of it: 
REPORT. 
Fish caught. 8 
Bites (flab).___ 17 
Bites (mosquitoes).982 
Wet feet. 8 
Colds. 4 
Headaches... 2 
Ducking. 1 
Total.1,000 
SUPPLEMENTAL REPORT ON THE FISH. 
Catfish.. 1 
Suckers... 2 
Large sized pollywogs.3 
Total.6 
Learned Ignorance.—W hen the committee of 
the French Academy were employed in pre¬ 
paring the well-known Academy Dictionary, 
Cuvier, the celebrated naturalist, came one 
day into the room where they were holding a 
session. 
“ Glad to see you, M. Cuvier,” said one of the 
forty; “we have just finished a definition 
which we think quite satisfactory, but upon 
which we would like to have your opinion.— 
We have been defining the word Crab, and have 
explained it thus ; — Crab, a small red fish 
which walks backward.” 
“Perfect, gentlemen,” said Cuvier; “only, 
if you will give me leave, I will make one 
small observation in natural history : The crab 
is not a fish—it is not red—and it does not 
walk backward I With these exceptions, your 
definition is excellent.” 
A Classical Congressman.—T he best jokes 
afloat in the Capital are located in the room of 
the Committee on the District of Columbia. In 
a recent discussion there, a legal member stated 
that “ Congress should be liberal towards the 
District. She has no Territorial or State Gov¬ 
ernment—and we consequently should watch 
over her interest in loco parentis." A clerical 
member of the Committee, from down East, did 
not relish this, and closed a sophomoric appeal, 
by exclaiming, in true pulpit fashion—“As to 
the gentleman’s insinuation that Congress 
should act as loco foco parents to this District, I 
would remind him that only the Senate is of 
them politics.” 
Editing a newspaper is a good deal like mak¬ 
ing a fire. Everybody supposes he can do it 
“a little better than anybody else.” We have 
seen people doubt their fitness for apple-ped¬ 
dling, driving oxen, and counting lath, but, in 
all our experience, we never yet met with that 
individual who did not think he could “double 
the circulation” of any paper in two months. 
An exceedingly tall gentlemen was walking 
with a very small friend in the midst of a heavy 
shower, when the latter observed :—“ Bill, ain't 
it coming down ?” Bill lifting his shoulders 
still higher, answered :—“I don’t know how it 
may be with you ; but it is raining awfully up 
here 1” 
fatitlfjs taut. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 15 letters. 
My 15, 3, 11 is a possessive pronoun. 
My 10, 3,12 is not bright. 
My 2, 5, 4 is to hinder. 
My 7,1, 9, 10 is a precious metal. 
My 12, 1,11, 5, 11 was a Jewish writer. 
My 8, 4,13, 10 was a Latin poet. 
My 11, 5,2, 9 is to dispose of. 
My 6, 13, 4, 5, 14 is to fasten. 
My whole was a writer of the eighteenth 
century. 
(pgr* Answer next week. 
CHARADE. 
If my first should no longer 
Revisit the earth, 
And glad with its presence 
The scenes of its birth, 
All nature would languish, 
And plenty would fain 
Flee the face of grim famine 
Which henceforth would reign. 
In England my second 
Was highly esteemed, 
Her lance and her buckler 
At once it was deemed ; 
And many a nation 
Still mainly depends, 
In chase and in battle, 
On the presents it sends. 
The roar of the tempest, 
The beat of the storm, 
In the Christian produces 
No fear nor alarm ; 
’Midst the flashes of lightning, 
And waves as they roll, 
Still deep in his mem’ry 
Lies the thought of my whole. 
IR58” Answer next week. 
THE LEADING AMERICAN WEEKLY 
Agricultural, Literary, and Family Newspaper. Z 
The Rural New-Yorker will enter upon its Eighth Year 
and Yolume in January ensuing. It has already attained a 
circulation at least ten thousand greater than that of any other 
Agricultural or similar journal —the hast evidence of decided 
superiority —aud we confidently refer to its past history and 
progress, aud present position, instead of issuing a lengthy 
Prospectus. Widely known as the most Prominent and 
Meritorious Journal of its Class, aud as ardently devoted 
to tho welt are of the Rural Population, —their Interests and 
Pursuits,—it is unequalled as a Practical and High-Toned 
RURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER! 
And its high reputation will be fully maintained in future—for 
we are resolved that “ Progress and Improvement ” shall charac¬ 
terize the various Practical, Literary and Miscellanhoui 
Departments. The new volume will discuss a greater number 
of Useful, Important and Timely Topics than any other Journal. 
Its ample pages will embrace numerous 
APPROPRIATE AND COSTLY ENGRAVINGS! 
Including illustrations in Agriculture, Horticulture, Rural 
Architecture, Mechanic Arts, Natural History, Ac.,—while 
choice Music will be given. The Rural is also superior as a 
a Hewspaptr, each No. containing a Summary of the Most 
Important Hews, with reliable Reports of the Grain, Prevision 
and Cattle Markets. It has long been pronounced 
THE BEST WEEKLY IN AMERICA! 
Yet we hope to make tho Eighth Volume superior to all others 
in both Contents and Appearance, —rendering it more worthy 
its extensive Nationnl Circulation, and a most valuable and 
acceptable aid in promoting the Home Happiness of its tens of 
thousands of readers, of various occupations, in both Town and 
Country. It will be printed on New Type and good paper. 
FORM, STYLE AND TERMS : 
The Rural New-Yorker is published in Quarto Form, each 
No. comprising Eight Double Quarto Pages, [forty columns,] 
printed in best style. An Index, Title Page, Ac., given at 
the close of each volume. 
Terms, In Advancei—$2 a year; Three Copies, $5; Six 
for $10; Ten for $15, and any additional number at the same 
rate, ($1,50 per copy.) As we pre-pay American postage, 
$1,62)4 is lowest club rate to Canadians. Single or club sub¬ 
scriptions can commence with the volume or any number; 
hence, Now is the Time to Subscribe ! 
lfs/“ Agents, Subscribers, aud all others disposed to lend a 
portion of influence in behalf of the Rural and its objects, are 
respectfully invited to receive and forward subscriptions. 
Nov., 1856. D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y. 
RURAL PREMIUM LIST. 
Agents, Subscribers and other friends of the Rural 
New-Yorker who may be disposed to lend their efforts in 
its behalf, — thus enhancing their individual interests 
while promoting the welfare of community,—are invited 
to examine the following Programme of Premiums: 
CHRISTMAS GIFTS, IN CASH. 
(Open to Competitors for other Premiums.) 
FIFTY DOLLARS, in Cash, for the largest list of 
Yearly Subscriber to the Rukal New-Yorker, sent in or 
remitted according to our Terms, on or before the 26th 
day of December ensuing, (1856.) 
THIRTY DOLLARS for the next largest list. 
TWENTY DOLLARS for the next largest list. 
TEN DOLLARS for each of the next five lists. 
FIVE DOLLARS for each of the next ten lists. 
The names and number of subscribers obtained by each 
competitor, will be published in the Rural, (or in a cir¬ 
cular and mailed to all interested, as soon after December 
26th, as the result can be ascertained,) and the cash paid 
to the order of the successful competitors. 
To give Post-Masters and other Local Agents a 
fair, equal chance, traveling agents, post-riders aud citi¬ 
zens of Rochester are excluded from competition. 
In order to reward every person who may aid in ex¬ 
tending the circulation of the Rural New-Yorker, we 
offer to all (including competitors for the Premiums al¬ 
ready named,) the following liberal 
SPECIFIC PREMIUMS! 
SIX DOLLARS, in Cash, (or $6 in Books, at cash pri¬ 
ces, postage pre-paid,) and an extra copy of the Rural 
to every person renjitting payment for fifty or more 
Yearly Subscribers, according to our Terms, previous to 
the 1st of May, 1857. 
FIVE DOLLARS, IN Cash, (or either a copy of “Lip- 
pincott’s Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World,” or $6 in 
Agricultural Books,) to every one remitting for forty- 
four or more subscribers, as above. 
FOUR DOLLARS, in Cash, (or a copy of the “Japan 
Expedition”—price §5—or §5 in other Books,) to every 
one remitting for thirty-eight or more subscribers. 
THREE DOLLARS, in Cash, (or a copy of Webster’s 
Royal Octavo Dictionary, Unabridged in Words,—or $4 in 
other Books,) and an extra copy of the Rural to every 
one remitting for thirty-two or more subscribers. 
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 §13 ) or either Harper’s, Putnam’s, 
Graham’s, Godey’s or the Knickerbocker Mag. for 1857. 
To every one remitting for fifteen subscribers, an 
extra copy of Rural and either volume of the W. G. & S. 
R.—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 a bound 
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! 
Xfljf" Now is the Time to commence the Canvass, and as 
every one who forms a Cub of six or more is sure of some 
premium, we trust at least one person in each town wid at 
once enter upon the Rural Campaign. But little effort is 
necessary to obtain a handsome list (and thus secure a 
valuable Premium,) at almost any post-office. 
TERMS, IK 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 American postage on papers sent to British Provinces, 
Canadians must and one York shilling to club rate — 
making the lowest price $1,62)4 per copy. Club papers 
sent to different Post-offices if desired, and names can be 
added at any time. 
JJTgf” Specimen Numbers, Show Bills, Prospectuses, &c., 
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. MOONS, Rochester, N. Y. 
November, 1856. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 358: 
Agriculture. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
the leading weekly 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY JOURNAL, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY I>. 1). 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 the 
same rate, ($1,50 per copy.) As we are obliged to pre-pay the 
American postage on papers sent to tho British Provinces, our 
Canadian agents and friends must add 12)4 cents per copy to 
the club rates of the Rural. 
Advertising.—B rief and appropriate advertisements will 
be inserted at 25 cents a line each insertion, payabl in ad¬ 
vance. Our rule is to give no advertisement, unless very brief, 
more than four consecutive insertions. Patent Me.iiclnes, Ac.. 
Will not be advertised in the Rural at any price. 
