MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
NOT. *9. 
KUEAL MEMORIES. 
Sweet valley, how pleasing the view, 
The cottage, ia Memory bleat. 
The walk, where ,’ie rose bushes grew, 
The oak, where the dove built her nest; 
The wide-spreading mulberry trees, 
Where the heifer stood under the shade ; 
The orchard, that hummed with the bees. 
The bank, where the butterfly strayed. 
II. 
The brook, where the waterfalls chime 
So soft with the wood-robin’s song 1 
The mountain the goat loved to climb, 
Where the sunset was purple so long! 
The poplar, the hawthorn, in bloom, 
The rock, in the depth of the grove, 
When mild thought sad musing of heme, 
And learned a long lesson of iovt. 
The plain, where the strawberries grew 1 
Where the song of the harvest was loud, 
Where the rain fell as soft as the dew, 
And the bow was so bright in the cloud; 
The mead, where the ewe loved to browse, 
The lamb loved to frolic and play. 
The knoll, where the flock would repose, 
So still, at the close of the day! 
IV. 
The church, where the worshiper came 
To unburden his bosom of care ; 
The matron, to kindle the flame 
Of piety—silent, in prayer ; 
The youth, with reverent air, 
His early oblation to bring ; 
The maiden, so modest, so fair, 
So much like the angels-to sing. 
V. 
Where, intent on his mission Divine, 
His blessing the minister gave, 
Not seeking to dazzle or shine, 
But to heal and to help and to save ; 
Where the lost of the valley are laid, 
In hope—in hope to repose, 
Till all shall arise from the dead, 
In the name of the Lord that arose. 
VI. 
Green fields are scattered over the dell, 
The smoke, curling light to the skies, 
The far distant sound of the bell,; 
The cry of the crane as he flies, 
In the quiet—the stillness around ; 
The hymn that from Nature arose, 
Was sweet, like the notes that resound 
From the stars—when the firmament glows. 
ifg’s 
THE UNFASHIONABLE FURS. 
“Now, father, I’ll thank you for that five 
hundred dollars; you promised to give it to me 
this morning.” 
“ Yes, child, but I have not so much here now; 
ride down to my office at twelve o’clock, and you 
shall have the money; I expect some tenants 
to pay their quarter's rent to-day, and can make 
up the sum for you by that time.” 
“ Five hundred, and not a dollar less; and 
you may as well say six hundred,” said the gay, 
laughing girl; she knew her father’s fond in¬ 
dulgence. 
« Oh I extravagant!” exclaimed he, but what¬ 
ever of reproof the remark implied, it was com¬ 
pletely nullified by the caresses given at the 
same time. 
«Five hundred dollars too much for a set of 
furs ! No, indeed. Why, Clara Morgan’s cost 
eight hundred, and mother thinks those she se¬ 
lected for me very cheap.” 
The man of business smiled upon his darling 
daughter, then left his elegant and comfortable 
house for the cheerless office in Wall street.— 
At noon, Alice was in Wall street, too. Spring¬ 
ing lightly from the carriage, she tripped up 
stairs, and was at Mr. Durand’s desk just as a 
young female turned from it to go out. Having 
received the six hundred dollars, Alice left im¬ 
mediately, and was soon at Smith’s Bazaar, 
chatting gayly with a young friend whom she 
met there. Both were looking at the handsome 
cape and muff which Mrs. Durand had fixed 
upon for her daughter the day before. They 
were beautiful indeed, and the young ladies 
having exhausted the usual vocabulary of epi¬ 
thets in praising them, turned to look at others. 
Just then a hollow, suppressed cough close by 
her, caused Alice to turn, as a young girl passed 
on her way to the sewing-room. Thither, too, 
she went, a few moments after, to see if a dress 
she had making there was finished. The su¬ 
perintendent of work had it in her hand, and 
was reprimanding some one for coming so late. 
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Miss Durand,” 
she said, seeing that young lady approach, “ but 
Jane Lester, who is embroidering your dress, 
did not get here until just now, and it is not yet 
finished.” Then turning, she said, “Here, 
Jane, you must work fast, and make up for lost 
time." 
As the sewing-girl took the garment she 
coughed again. Oh, that dismal sound ! It 
touched the heart of Alice, for she recognized 
in Jane Lester the one that passed her in the 
office and show-room. She looked at her a 
moment, and thought, is it by the labor of such 
as she that my father’s rents are paid, and I 
obtain money to lavish on costly clothes ! She 
went up to the girl, who by this time was dili¬ 
gently at work, and said, in a kind, low tone : 
“ Don’t hurry at all; I’m not the least in need 
of the dress.” 
“ Thank you, ma’am, but I will soon have it 
done ; if I am not at work on this, it will be on 
something else.” 
“ But why do you work at all ? With that 
cough yon ought not to come out in such weath¬ 
er as this.” 
“What would become of us — of father, I 
mean, and the children—if I were idle ?” 
“ Do you have to support them ?” asked Alice, 
with eager curiosity. 
“Not when father is well, but he has been 
sick all winter, and I paid out the last of his 
savings this morning; so I must try and earn 
■ more than ever.” Again, that cough. 
“ Well, if that is the case you must consult a 
doctor, and do something for yourself, or you 
will soon be unable to work at all.” 
Jane shook her head sadly. “No, indeed, 
we cannot afford to have a doctor for father, and 
I couldn’t think of such a thing myself.” 
There was a moment’s pause — then Alice 
spoke. “ Give me your address, and I will 
send a kind physician there, who will not charge 
you anything. But he must prescribe for both, 
and you must follow his directions.” 
“Never mind me. Miss, I’m not so bad as you 
think, and shall be better in a little while. I 
cough more than usual this morning, from hav¬ 
ing walked so fast.” 
Miss Durand returned to the store more 
thoughtful than when she first entered it. She 
did not get near the five hundred dollar furs, 
but took a set at one fifth of that price, and de¬ 
parted—leaving her friend and the clerks as¬ 
tonished at her sudden change of taste. 
Great was the indignation of her fashionable 
mother, when she learned the result of her 
daughter’s shopping, 
“ Why, that is not the set I chose 1” said she, 
when the boxes were opened. 
“ I know it, mother, but I preferred these.” 
“ You have a strange taste, I must confess.— 
Anybody can get stone marten.” 
“Then I shall still be a la mode replied 
her daughter with a smile. 
“Yes, with the vulgar herd,” said the lady, 
scornfully. 
“ These are pretty, equally comfortable, and 
did not cost near as much as the sable,” an¬ 
swered Alice, in extenuation. But her mother 
was not to be mollified. 
“ What had you to do with the cost ? Didn’t 
your father give you enough to pay for the 
others ?” 
“Yes ma’am, and more, too.” 
“How Clara Morgan will laugh when she 
sees those old-fashioned things ? And well she 
may.” 
“ I care not for that, and shall enjoy mine 
none the less for seeing her with more costly 
ones.” 
To avoid further remonstrances, Alice retired 
to the library, and addressed a note to Dr. Wes¬ 
ton, the family physician. She begged him to 
call that evening at No. 14 Ann street, and pres¬ 
cribe for the two invalids there. Enclosed was 
a one hundred dollar bill, from which she wish¬ 
ed him to deduct his fee, and appropriate the 
remainder to the necessities of the family.— 
There was also a request for him to keep the 
matter secret. He understood and appreciated 
this, lor more than once he had been the al¬ 
moner of Miss Durand’s bounty, and he would 
not abuse her confidence. 
A few days afterward the dress came home. 
It was neatly made, and beautifully embroider¬ 
ed. As Alice examined the graceful design 
and elaborate needlework, she thought of the 
trembling fingers that wrought it. 
Yielding to the impulse of her heart, she set 
out immediately for the residence of Mr. Lester. 
Something told her that she would find Jane at 
home; and sure enough, she had become so 
much worse that it was impossible for her to 
leave the house, yet she was trying to sew, that 
the family might not starve. The doctor had 
found Jane and her lather extremely ill ; but as 
they were in a comfortable house, barely fur¬ 
nished with necessaries, it is true, for not a su¬ 
perfluous article was there, he feared to wound 
their pride by offering more than his profession¬ 
al services. It is needless to say he returned 
the money sent by Alice, on the first opportu¬ 
nity. Alice, to whom the contrast between her 
own luxurious home and the cheerless apart¬ 
ment she was in, suggested real poverty, which 
the feeble efforts of Jane to continue at work 
confirmed, felt that something more was needed. 
“ This, surely, is disobedience to the doctor’s 
orders,” she said, gently taking the work from 
the invalid. 
“Now you must not plead necessity, she con¬ 
tinued, “lor here is a reply in advance to that 
argument, and she slipped her purse into Jane’s 
trembling hand. 
No word of thanks fell from Ihe poor girl’s 
quivering lips, for the generous aid so delicate¬ 
ly given ; but her glistening eyes and silent 
pressure of the hand that bestowed it, told her 
gratitude. 
Many visits, after this, did the child of luxury 
and wealth make to the dwelling of the sick 
girl, whom neither her loving care nor physi¬ 
cian’s skill could save. Gradually she paled 
away, very gradually her strength failed, but 
her heart grew stronger all the while—strong 
to endure the sundering of sweet ties that bound 
her to earth—strong to meet the terrors of death, 
so near. Her father was recovering, so the meek 
daughter was resigned, since the little ones 
would have him to provide for them. 
Alice was returning home from visiting the 
Lester family, one day, and had just emerged 
from the cross street into Broadway, whan a 
gayly decorated sleigh passed, filled with ladies 
and gentlemen of her acquaintance. She did 
not observe them, but Clara Morgan caught 
sight of her, and said to a young man by her 
side— 
“Well, if there isn’t Alice Durand coming 
out of Ann street, and on foot, too 1 What in 
the world can she be doing there ?” 
“Not visiting any of her friends, I imagine," 
said Mr. Benton. 
“ There is no knowing; she takes very curi¬ 
ous freaks sometimes. Only think of her pur¬ 
chasing a set of cheap furs, wheD, to my certain 
knowledge her mother wanted her to have some 
like mine.” 
“ She certainly could afford the most fashion¬ 
able and expensive.” 
“ Of course : and that’s what makes it appear 
so strange.” 
It seemed somewhat strange to George Ben¬ 
ton, too, for he had heard the circumstances of 
the purchase, from his sister, who was with 
Alice at the time ; but still he believed that she 
must have had a good motive for the act—Miss 
Durand did not act unreasonably. So, thought 
he, “ she has been to see some one in Ann street, 
where only poor families live. That is fact 
number two.” and he began to make deduc¬ 
tions, yet reserved the final inference to be 
drawn from further premises. Fact number 
three was furnished not long after. It was on 
this wise. He was at a large party, and search¬ 
ing through the crowded rooms for Alice, whom 
he presumed to be there, his attention was ar¬ 
rested by the conversation of two young ladies. 
“ Yes, Bell, it is, as you say, a beautiful dress, 
but not half so pretty as I intended to have it. 
You know that elegant embroidered robe of 
Alice Durand’s ? Well I determined to have 
one like it, but the only person I know of who 
does that kind of work had to get sick just as I 
wanted her.” 
“ How provoking ! That’s always the way 
with these needle-women ; they think nothing 
of disappointing us. I never would employ her 
again if I were yon.” 
“Nor shall I; Jane Lester has done her last 
work for me,” said the speaker—no other than 
Clara Morgan. 
“Yes, Miss Lester has done her last work of 
that kind. You are quite right, Miss Clara.” 
They both started—it was Dr. Weston who 
spoke ; he had heard their heartless remarks, 
and there was unusual seriousness in his tone. 
“ Why, what do you know of her ?” asked one 
of them. 
“ That she is very ill, and will not recover.— 
Indeed, I think she would have been in her 
grave before now, hut for the kindest of care.” 
“I am glad she is so fortunate,” said Miss 
Morgan, with a sense of relief. “ It is not every 
one in her situation that can afford a good 
nurse.” 
“Nor could she, but lor the goodness of one 
in similar circumstances to yours.” 
“Indeed ! but you do not mean that any one 
of our circle is exercising such uncalled-for con¬ 
descension ?” 
“ I do mean that there is one young lady of 
my acquaintance of ‘ our circle,' that can both 
devise and perform generous deeds, however 
lowly the object.” 
“ Of whom are you speaking, doctor ?” now 
inquired Mr. Benton, who had been an obser¬ 
vant listener. 
“ I must mention no names,” replied Dr. 
Weston, with a smile. “ She would not thank 
me for making public her private charities.” 
“Yet you have actually done it,” said one of 
the young ladies. 
“ I have commended the actions without giv¬ 
ing to the aetor a notoriety she would shun ; 
and let me add, ?ay dear girls, her conduct is 
worthy of imitation.” 
“ It’s plain to f>e seen some one is to be can¬ 
onized as a ‘ saint ’ or ‘ sister of mercy,’ to say 
the least,” said Clara, as soon as the doctor 
passed on. 
“ It must he Alice,” mused George Benton.— 
“I know of none other to whom Dr. Weston’s 
words can apply, and I half suspect it is some 
charitable mission that keeps her from here to¬ 
night.” _ 
It was a spring morning in April. Jane 
Lester’s couch had been drawn to the window* 
that she might share in the sweet influences of 
that glorious morning. She lay there, calmly 
thinking of the present and the future, when 
Alice Durand entered the room. 
To her kind inquiries how she had passed 
the night, and how she felt this morning, Jane 
replied— 
« Oh, comfortably—quite comfortably ; much 
pain, but patience to bear it; little sleep, but 
many pleasant thoughts.” 
“ I have brought you the first spring flowers 
from our garden. Are they not beautiful ?” 
“ They are, indeed. I thank you for them, 
and oh, much more for the flowers of peace and 
hope with which your kindness has cheered my 
pathway.” 
“ Think not of that, dear girl,” said Alice, 
with much feeling ; “ I have been far happier 
for the little I have done than it could possibly 
render you.” 
“ I will tax your kindness with but one more 
request; it is that your father will permit us 
to remain in this house until I am gone. You 
know that next week we should move, as father 
must take a smaller dwelling now.” 
“ That is all arranged ; he will not move at 
all, but stay here free of rent; and I will come 
sometimes to see the children. They shall not 
want.” 
« God bless you—he will bless you. But they 
will not long be dependent on your charity; as 
soon as father is able—” 
“ Call it not charity ; it is only help which 
the stronger should give the weak in time of 
need.” 
A look of grateful satisfaction overspread 
Jane’s pale face. She clasped her hands, and 
closed her eyes a moment, as if in silent prayer, 
then whispered, “Now you will read to me.” 
Alice had already taken from her pocket the 
little Bible whose precious contents had long 
been the sewing girl’s solace, and which she 
had requested Miss Durand to keep as a memo¬ 
rial of her. 
“ Is there any particular chapter you would 
liice to hear ?” she asked. 
“ This morning reminds me of the resurrec¬ 
tion ; read, if you please, the fifteenth of 1st Co¬ 
rinthians.” 
Alice complied, and while she was reading 
that sublime argument on the doctrine of a fu¬ 
ture life, Mr. Lester and children had quietly 
entered the room. When she came to the words, 
“ 0 death, where is thy sting 1 0 grave, where 
is thy victory I” the dying girl repeated after 
her those exulting words with such an energy 
as to cause all to turn their attention to her, and 
lo 1 with that triumphant exclamation on her 
lips, the breath had left her mortal body ! Her 
freed spirit had “ put on immortality.” 
THB R-TJUAXi FOR 1887. 
THE LEADING AMERICAN WEEKLY 
Agricultural, Literary, and Family Newspaper.! 
* * J * The Rural Niw-Yorker will enter upon its Eighth Year 
and Volume in January ensuing. It lias already attained a 
The first of May came. Jane Lester’s father circulation at least t*n thousand greater than that of an y other 
and bereaved sisters remained in the same ^^urai ,r similar journal- the best evidence of decided 
. superiority —and we confidently refer to its past history and 
dwelling ; she whose only anxiety had been for progress, and present position, instead of issuing a lengthy 
them, was removed to her heavenly mansion. Prospectus. Widely known as the most Prominent and 
Her last days on earth had been rendered ME-moRious Journal of its Class, and as ardently devoted 
J . to the welfare of the Rural Population,— their Interests and 
Comfortable and happy, by her whose still ac- Pursuits,—it is unequalled as a Practical and High-Toned 
tive and self-denying benevolence continued to RURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER! 
relieve the sufferings of many who yet re- And its high reputation will be fully maintained In future—for 
mained in our midst; to impress, as it were, the ™ arc tha p t “ Pn > n " an<i charac ' 
7 r 7 tonzo the various Practical, Literary and Miscellaneous 
hearts of those who haye means, with the God." Departments. The new volume will discuss a greater number 
given truth, that "it is more blessed to give Of Useful, Important and Timely Topics than any other Journal 
, v • ,) -at it- wr • Its ample pages will embrace numerous 
than receive. —A. Y Examiner. 
APPROPRIATE AND COSTLY ENGRAVINGS! 
~-" Including illustrations in Agriculture, Horticulture, Rural 
P * i V. CfHe Architecture, Mechanic Arts, Natural History, Ac.,—whil. 
1 "l imntTftf choice MusiO will be given. The Rural is also superior as a 
tv itv (yfL v'rFrvAA-V -f a Newspaper, each No. containing a Summary of the Most 
Important News, with reliable Reports of the Grain, Provision 
and Cattle Markets. It has long been pronounced J 
TIIE BEST WEEKLY IN AMERICA! 
Yet we hope to make the Eighth Volume superior to all others 
in both Contents and Appearance, —rendering it more worthy 
its extensive National 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. I3 1 ’* It wilt bo printed on Now 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 Advance:—$2 a year; Three Copies, $5; Six 
for $10; Ten for $15, and any additional number at the same 
rate, ($1,60 per copy.) As we pre-pay American postage, 
$1,62>£ is lowest club rate to Canadians. Single or club sub¬ 
scriptions can commence with the volume or any number; 
hence, Now ia the Time to Subscribe ! 
L3tP" Agents, Subscribers, and 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 maybe disposed to lend their efforts in 
its bdfialf, — 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 Subscribers to the Rusal Nkw-Yorkeu, 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 
.uenani to au neignoors round. s ^w esi ^ ul competitors. 
YW To give Post-Masters and other Local Agents a 
When clouds foreshadow rain ere night, fair, equal chance, traveling agents, post-riders and citi- 
When trouts leap upward from the stream, zens ot Rochester are e xcluded fr om competition. 
When midges and mosquitoes bite, ordor to reward every person who may aid in ex- 
When near the ground the swallows skim, tending the circulation of the Rural New-Yorker, we 
When partridge drums on hollow logs, offer to all (including competitors for the Premiums al- 
THeu Ou ,touch, (he (jresk Of Irogs ready tho following libers’ 
Jung-tau, SPECIFIC PREMIUMS ! ' 
Curruck, croak. Thus croak the frogs SIX DOLLARS, in Cash, (or $6 in Books, at cash pri- 
In muddy pools and mucky bogs. ces, postage pre-paid,) and an extra copy of the Rural 
_- _ to every person remitting payment for fifty or more 
Yearly Subscribers, according to our Terms, previous lo 
Hoopiana.—W e hear of but few accidents re- the 1st of May , 1857. 
Written for the Rural New-Yorko*. 
A PARODY. 
BY WM. PRINGLH. 
On sunny days when spring is nigh, 
When thirsty choppers eat the snow, 
Or tap a maple tree hard by, 
And put their dinner-pail below, 
O, theD, those little birds appear 
Whose simple notes we gladly hear, 
Phebe, 
Phebe, phebe. Thus slowly sing 
Those little harbingers of spring, \ 
And when the sugar fire is made, 
When buckets hang below the spile, 
When boys delight to lend their aid, 
And hourly take their pay meanwhile, 
Then hops around this welcome bird, 
And all the day its song is heard, 
Phebe, 
Phebe, phebe. Thus slowly sing 
Those little harbingers of spring. 
When farmers smoke at evening hours, 
And o’er the window lean and look— 
When shines the moon on dewy flowers. 
And softly sings the rushing brook, 
When valleys are obscured by fogs, 
Then do we hear the village dogs 
Bow-wougb, 
Yeough, yeough, wough, wough. Thus do they bark, 
Aad answer neighbors in the dark. 
When ceaseless sibilant music comes 
From forests like the sound of ocean, 
When round the honeyed bioBsom hums, 
The humming bird with darting motion, 
0, then, on every farm we hear 
The early crow of chanticleer 
Cbirruck, 
Cocbyleerilaw !—a sound 
Defiant to all neighbors round. 
When clouds foreshadow rain ere night, 
When trouts leap upward from the stream, 
When midges and mosquitoes bite, 
When near the ground the swallows skim, 
When partridge drums on hollow logs, 
xiieu a. no neat die qrcsk of Irogs 
Jung-tau, 
Curruck, croak. Thus croak the frogs 
In muddy pools and mucky bogs. 
Hoopiana.— We hear of but few accidents re- the 1st of May, 1857. 
suiting from it this week. A cotemporary FIVE DOLLARS, in Cash, (or either a copy of “Lip- 
° r J pincott s Pronouncing Gazetteer of the World,’ or .$6 m 
states that a cooper heading up a bursted bar- Agricultural Books,) to every one remitting for forty- 
rel of sugar on the pavement, seized a hooped F0UR or more aubs « riber8 . as above - 
... , , , . . . . . , , , , FOUR DOLLARS, in CAsn, (or a copy of the “ Japan 
petticoat passing beilind. him where he had put Expedition’ 7 —price #6 —or $5 in other Books,) to every 
his hickory hoops, commenced hammering it on one rem ’tting lor thirty-eight or more subscribers. 
v . , ... ., ... THREE DOLLARS, in Cash, (or a copy of Webster’s 
the bail el, and did not discover the mistake Royal Octavo Dictionary, Unabridged in Words,—or $4 in 
until he had got the lady so much mixed up in other Books,) and an extra oopy of the Rural to every 
i -i •, . one remitting for thirty-two or more subscribers, 
the sugar, he could not tell them apart. An- THREE DOLLARS, ln Cash, (or the above named 
other case is related of a stout lady who has Dictionary,) to every one remitting for twenty-five sub- 
™ , . .. i, i, . scribers. [Agents can retain the cash for Specific Preini- 
often been noticed to visit the theatre unac- urns, deducting it from remittance.] 
companied by a gentleman, but during the per- To every one remitting for twenty subscribers we will 
„„ give two extra copies of the Rural and the 9th and 10th 
foimance was always seated by the side of, and ^ or any 0 ^ er two) volumes of the Wool Grower and 
retired with a small sized man who was after- Stock Register— or a handsomely bound volume of the 
i • j , v v . m, i Rural for 1856, (price §3.) or either Harper’s, Putnam’s, 
wards recognised as her husband. The sequel Grah am’s, Gode/s or the Knickerbocker Mag. for 1857. 
is that in order to save a “half” the gent had To every one remitting for fifteen subscribers, an 
o c/M.t i;_i c extra copy of Rural and either volume of the W. G. & S. 
province a soit ot swing, and attached himself — or a CO py 0 f either the Horticulturist, Arthur’s 
to the hoops. This is a great country 1 Magazine, or any other $2 periodical. 
- 4 «fi- To every one remitting for ten subscribers, an extra 
_ a- xsri.- i. copy of the Rural and either volume of the W. G. & S. R. 
Examination of the Alphabet. — Which are „ .... - . . , . 
To every one remitUng for six copies (§10,) an extra 
the most iudustrious letters ? The Bees. copy of the Rural. 
Which are the most extensive letters ? The $300 MORE! 
Seas. In addition to all other Premiums, we will give abound 
Which are the most fond of comfort? The XX' 
Ease. twenty or more subscribers for 1857, according to Terms! 
Which are the most egotistical letters ? The *3T Now w the Time to commence the Canvass, and as 
& every one who forms a Club of six or more is sure o( some 
I’S. premium, we trust at least one person in each town will at 
uri • i_x__ <7 -mi once enter upon the Rural Campaign. But little effort is 
V hich aie the longest letteis ? The Dlls. necessary to obtain a handsome list (and thus secure a 
Which are the longest letters ? The Ells. ^^‘y t “ obum a handsom^llst (and 1 
Which are the most noisy letters ? The Ohs. valuable Premium,) at aimoht any post-office. 
Which are the leguminous letters ? The Pens# TEI^3VtS IK" ,A !DVA 
Which are the greatest bores ? The Tease. Tw0 DoLLAR3 A Yea ’ r . Three Copies one 
Which are the sensible letters ? The Wise. — Six Copies for $10— Ten Copies fur % 15, a 
irUIbUmCLUC AC^UUilUUUaiCtLUIS l JLIit5JTUa». TERMS IK" ADVANCE • 
Which are the greatest bores ? The Tease. Tw0 DoLLAB8 A Yea ’ r . Three Copies 0M year, for $5 
Which are the sensible letters ? The Wise. —Six Copies for $10— Ten Copies fur % 15, and any addi- 
_*_ tional number at same rate, (§1,50 per copy.) As we pre- 
r, , pay American postage on pup'rs sent lo British Provinces, 
An Abstruse Calculation. — Mr. O’Flaherty Canadians must add one York shilling to club rate— 
idertook to tell how many were at the party. LTL* 
undertook to tell how many were at the party, ^aufdijcrent’pc 
The two Crogans was one, myself was two, added at any lime. 
Mike Finn was three, and—and—who the mis- Specimen Numbers, Show Bills, Prospectuses, &c., 
, . . „ _ , furnished free to all who are disposed to compete for 
chief was lour l Eet me see (counting his fin- Premiums, or who desire to aid in extending the cireula- 
r 7 pyq\_[lip two Cro^sTis was OTip Milrp Finn tion of the Rural. Subscription money should bo 
gers)—me two Grogans was one, Mike Finn proper i y i nclose d,a n d carefully addressed and mailed to 
was two, meself was three—and—be-dad 1 
there was four of us ; but St. Patrick couldn’t 
tell the name of the other. Now it’s meself 
that has it: Mike Finn was one, the two Cro- 
D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y. 
November, 1856. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
the leading weekly 
gans was two, meself was three—and—and—be .agricultural, literary and family journal, 
the powers, I think there was but three of us is published every Saturday 
after all.— Punch. *»• T - mooke, Rochester, n. 
“Poetry as is Poetry.” — Extract from a 
poem just published iu England ; 
Farewell, Tarrengower I and Ganawarra I 
Farewell, Wagra-Baijarg ! and Irrawarral 
Farewell, Burra Burra ! Polliah ! Horang! 
Farewell, Merrimingo 1 and thee, BurhewaDg 1 
And thee, Booroondara ! and Goomalibee! 
Farewell, Narab Narab ! andHinnomongy 1 
And Wimmera plains, by Tongeomungie ! 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY ». I>. T. AlOORE, ROCHESTER, N. X. 
Office, Daily Union Building, Opposite the Court Souse, 
TERMS IN ADVANCE: 
Subscription— $2 a year—$1 or six months. To Clubs and 
Agents as follows:—Three Copies one year, for $5; SixCopie3 
(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, onr 
Cunadiau agents and friends must add 12>£ cents per copy to 
the club rates of the Rural. 
Advertising.— Brief and appropriate advertisements will 
If it is all like the foregoing, the poem must be inserted at 25 cents a line each insertion, payebl' in ad- 
be a rich and ingenious work-a sort o’ high art 0u , r rule is t0 g ( ive ’J 0 advertisement unless very brief, 
. ° J more than lour consecutive insertions. Patent jMeaiciiies, ac., 
production. 
Will not be advertised in the Rural at any price. 
