24 
EMOORE’S RURAL NEW-Y( RIvER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
poetical. 
For thr Burst New-Yorker. 
MY CJUIRT RURAL HOME. 
BT S. TV RMAN. 
Tne lovrm and cilies have their charms— 
The busy marts have theirs; 
Cut who could hope for happ’rtes* 
! Mid all their anxious cares ? 
There is a place where joy is found 
Beneath a huuible dome— 
The choicest blessings ciusier ’round 
My quiet Rurni Home. 
If travel takes me far away 
To other climes than ours, 
Where Nature, Science, Art, display 
Their beauties and their powers— 
Still, ’mid those scenes by land or sea. 
Or wheresoe’er I roam, 
Fond tneni’ry oft returns to thee. 
My quiet Rural Home. 
I lore the sweet, sweet country life. 
Where Nature talk* with me— 
Where every scene with joy is rife, 
Aud ail around i« free: 
The birds of spring the'rr nests shall build 
Close hy my huintde dome— 
Their sweetest notes with joy shall fill 
My quiet Rural Home. 
Yes, sweet tile flowers and fruits that boutrd 
This lovely spot of earth; 
But sweeter far the Peace that’s found 
Around my humble hearth: 
Here quiet, joy. and peace, and love 
Doth speak of that to come, 
And bless this type of bliss above, 
My quiet Rural Home. 
Jliirnl lluttlj 3600k. 
[Wri'ten expressly for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH: 
A REHISISCEKCE OF THE BAR. 
BT EDWARD WEBSTER, ESQ. 
In all and each of the pursuits of human 
life, there are at various points along our 
pathway obstacles which oppose our pro¬ 
gress, and which call for strength of will 
and steadiness of purpose to overcome,— 
salient points, that project in sharp angles 
across our way, to turn us from our purpose, 
or to conceal the objects that lie before us 
in our future course. Every man, unless 
he is more than usually fortunate, or pos¬ 
sesses more than the usual amount of pru¬ 
dence and foresight, must expect to meet 
with revel’ses and disappointments. Young 
professional men have perhaps more to 
meet in the way of opposition and discour¬ 
agement, than any other class in community. 
The wares and merchandize of a 'skillful 
mechanic, if really superior, will recommend 
themselves. IIo has only to manufacture 
aud expose for sale, and his goods will tell 
their own story; but the professional man, 
before ho can act, must wait until he is 
called. No man of common prudence de¬ 
sires to risk his life or fortune in the hands 
of an unskillful or dishonest man; and hence, 
frequently, the modest and retiring, though 
really competent and deserving young At¬ 
torney or Physician, has often to wait for 
employment until he is tempted to abandon 
his profession in despair. Nor are the in¬ 
stances of sudden and rapid rise as frequent 
as we are led to suppose. The ability to 
combat successfully in the intellectual arena, 
is not intuitive. However brilliant may be 
tho mental qualifications of a man, they 
must be trained and disciplined; and when 
wc sec one of those rare minds elevating its 
possessor step by step above his fellow men, 
wo are apt to forget the many years of pre¬ 
liminary mental discipline through which he 
has passod—years of toil, perhaps of pov¬ 
erty, and almost of despair. 
I havo in my mind at this moment a case 
in point. Counselor M-, late of the 
Massachusetts bar, for a long time enjoyed 
an enviable reputation and a lucrative prac¬ 
tice—was honored by his constituents with 
many important public trusts, and has often 
been cited as an example of rapid progress 
and quick success. Nothing however is 
really wider from the truth, than that Coun¬ 
selor M. rose rapidly in his profession; and 
little do the world at large know of the slow 
and painful manner in which he pursued his 
preliminary literary and professional course, 
and liLt e do they suspect that he was a sound 
and practical lawyer, and had been ten years 
in the profession, beforo the circumstance 
occurred that called him into public notice, 
gave him an extensive reputation, and intro¬ 
duced him into a higher and more lucrative 
sphere of practice. His offico at that time 
was located in the great manufacturing city 
of New England, some twenty-five miles 
from Boston. He was seated one day in his 
office examining a recent volume of Reports, 
and comparing the cases it contained with 
the principles of the English common law, 
when,a young man entered whom he remem¬ 
bered to have seen in some way connected 
with one of the manufacturing corporations. 
He was an intelligent, good looking man, 
apparently of about the age of twenty-five 
years, and dressed in the garb of the better 
class of operatives in the mills. Ho was 
possessed of that independent and self-reli¬ 
ant air, that distinguishes the American 
mechanic from tho laboring classes of all 
tho rest of tho world, and indicates a degree 
of intellectual cultivation which is at the 
same time the pride of our citizens and the 
safety of tho Republic. There was an ex¬ 
pression of deep anxiety upon his counte¬ 
nance as ho exchanged the compliments ol 
tho morning, and proceeded at once to say, 
“ Counselor, I wish to consult with you 
on a matter of doe]) importance, involving 
the integrity and happiness of a poor but 
virtuous and honorable family. A young 
woman by tho name of Lucy Kendall, who 
is engaged as a weaver in the mill, and in¬ 
deed in the very room of which 1 am fore¬ 
man. is accused of grand larceny under cir¬ 
cumstances of the most grave suspicion.— 
Public opinion is very much against her, but 
I am satisfied she is innocent of any crime. 
The net of circumstances seems to bo al¬ 
most inextricable, but she must be saved in 
some way. and at any hazard.” 
The Counselor suggested that perhaps she 
was really guilty of tho charge. 
“No, no,” he answered, “it is impossible! 
I havo known her from a child. We were 
school mates together in one of tho little 
villages among the granite hills oi New 
Hampshire. Her father was a man of some 
property then, and I was a poor man’s son; 
but we were in tho same classos in the vil¬ 
lage school. She war two or three years 
younger than I, but 1 looked upon her, even 
then, as the personification of virtue and 
goodness; and the bright example she set 
us then, and the admiration 1 had for her 
character in those school-hoy days, have 
never since been lost. At the age of eighteen 
1 left my native village and came here as an 
operative in a cotton mill, in which I havo 
been over since engaged. I lost sight of 
Miss Kondall until a year ago last summer, 
at which time she came here and entered 
the mill as a weaver; and then I learned for 
the first time that her father’s circumstances 
had changed sadly—that, he had lost all his 
property, except a small farm on the out¬ 
skirts of the village, on which also there 
was a mortgage of five hundred doljars 
pressing for payment. She had come from 
homo in order to assist in raising the neces¬ 
sary funds to pay olf the incumbrance by 
her labor in tho mill,—and she has contin¬ 
ued to work most industriously for that 
purpose up to the time the circumstances 
happened which have brought her undei 
this unfortunate suspicion. All my former 
opinions of her worth arc stronger than 
ever, sinco tho renewal of our acquaintance; 
and having been in tl:e receipt of three dol • 
lars a day for the four past years, and saved 
a large portion of my wages, I have repeat¬ 
edly offered to lend her the balance neces¬ 
sary to pay off her father’s indebtedness, 
which she has uniformly declined. She is 
now accused of stealing from the office of 
the corporation a package of money con¬ 
taining five hundred dollars, on the Globe 
Bank of Boston—and has been arrested on 
the charge. The examination takes place 
this afternoon, and I am requested to engage 
, you as her counsel.” 
He then proceeded to narrrate the cir¬ 
cumstances of the arrest, but it is unneces¬ 
sary to repeat them here, as they will ap¬ 
pear in tho sequel. 
“ And you really believe,” remarked the 
Counselor, after he had listened to the nar¬ 
ration, “ that she is innocent of this charge?” 
“ As innocent as the babe unborn ! 1 
would bo willing to risk my soul’s salvation 
upon it! There is villainy as well as guilt, 
somewhere, and I strongly suspect where it 
is. I have more reasons than one to bo in¬ 
terested in this matter, but tho first of all 
is to save the innocent from disgrace and 
punishment; and besides all that, it would 
add the last drop of bitterness to the cup of 
an honorable and proud spirited old man, 
—one who has ever been ready to lend a 
helping hand to tho distressed, and who. 
years ago, cheered mo in my struggles of 
youth and poverty. It would bring disgrace 
and sorrow upon a largo class of reputable 
connections—and—and ”— 
“ Would put an end to tho fond anticipa¬ 
tions of a certain person who has an unusu¬ 
ally deep interest in hor welfare,” suggested 
tho Counselor. 
“ Yes.” 
“And you havo a deep interest in her 
•welfare ?” 
“Yes.” 
“ I suspected as much. What I can do 
for her and you shall bo dono. If she is 
really innocent, Cod help her!—if sho is 
guilty, better, far bettor for you to havo 
found it out in time.” 
“ I beg of you,” replied the young man, 
“ to banish from your mind all idea of guilt 
as connocted with her. I tell you she has 
not so soon, and in the noble cause in which 
sho has boen struggling, forgotten the les¬ 
sons of her youth. Whatever may bo said 
of a lawyer’s ability to advocate an unjust 
cause, I know it is not in tho power of man 
to do so wiih tho samo zeal, which would 
inspire him on tho side of truth; and if you 
do not give full credit to her innocence now, 
vou may do so hereafter, when it will bo of 
no avail.” 
After some farther conversation, the young 
man,‘whoso name was William Johnson, 
withdrew, and the Counselor re-applied him¬ 
self to his task. At the hour appointed for 
i ho examination ho repaired to the office of 
the magistrate, in and around which a crowd 
was collected, much interested and excited, 
conversing in small groups upon tho proba¬ 
bilities of the prisoner’s guilt. She was 
sitting in the offico, deeply affected by the 
disgrace of her position. She was well but 
plainly dressed, of an intelligent and inter¬ 
esting appearance, but very pale; and her 
countenance bore evident traces of recent 
weeping. No one could look upon her with¬ 
out feeling interested in her fate, and no 
wonder that tho crowd around felt strong 
sympathy in her behalf. Tho examination 
was then commenced and sufficient evidence 
introduced to fix strong suspicion of guilt 
upon the prisoner, and warrant the magis¬ 
trate in holding her to bail in the sum of 
three thousand dollars to answer to tho 
charge of grand larceny at tho next court 
of Oyer and Terminer. The prosecution 
evidently did not go into tho whole case, 
and tho defence, for some causo which was 
at that time kept a secret, introduced no 
evidence at all. William Johnson and two 
othors, also foremen in the mills, presented 
themselves, and after having duly qualified, 
were accepted as bail. 
' That evening Johnson had a long consul¬ 
tation with Counselor M. “ These circum¬ 
stances look suspicious indeed,” remarked 
the Counselor; “with ono or two more 
Jinks in the chain, which may yet bo forged, 
before tho timo of final trial comes, there 
cannot bo. a jury found in the county who 
would not render a verdict against her, un¬ 
less those matters can bo explained away.— 
We must be vigilant and secrot in this mat¬ 
ter ; the counter-plot must bo deeply laid, 
and I am more than ever convinced we 
acted wisely in not showing our hand in this 
preliminary examination. Our time has not 
yet come. Better to bear suspicion unjust¬ 
ly for a timo, than to escape in the end and 
leave a stain of doubt upon her character. 
J ler reputation is as dear to both her and 
you as her liberty or life. Now, first of all, 
go round to all tho stores in the city and 
leave secret orders to have the bills on the 
Globe Bank of Boston answering the de¬ 
scription of those which have boon lost, par¬ 
ticularly watched. The clerk assures me 
that they are a new issue, and not yet in 
general circulation. # After that is dono wo 
will make other arrangements for the do- 
fence.” 
The interval of timo between the prelim¬ 
inary examination and the day of trial was 
not spent- in idleness, although the defence 
gave no clue to tho course they intended to 
pursue. Other circumstances had come to 
light which seemed to fix tho crime still 
more surely upon Miss Kendall. It had been 
ascertained that her father had received a 
package of five hundred dollars about tho 
time of the theft, with which ho had paid off 
the mortgage on his farm. The moment he 
heard of his daughter’s arrest he had hasten¬ 
ed to see her, and was immediately subpoj- 
med and compelled to recognise to appear 
as a witness in behalf of tho People, and 
against his own child. 
Tho tide of public opinion, which at first 
was in her favor, set stronger and stronger 
against her, as one fact after another came 
to light on which the prosecution depended 
to make out their causo. It seemed that 
some active agent was at work in secret, to 
prejudice community against her; but where 
1 it. was. or for what object, remained conceal- 
| ed. Tho paleness of her cheek—the de- 
i pression of her naturally buoyant spirit, 
j weighed down by the terrible suspicion that 
j was fixed upon her, and tho disposition to 
shun all unnecessary intercourse, or to al- 
1 ude to tho coming trial, were interpreted to 
j her disadvantage, and sot down by the gos- 
! siping news-mongers as unmistakable evi- 
| deuces of guilt. Her intimate friends, how- 
j over, interpreted them far otherwise, and 
1 read with anxiety, tho effects of that agony 
of mind attendant upon the consciousness of 
impending but unmerited disgrace—a bur¬ 
den which, unless speedily reniovod, would 
end in a broken constitution, blighted hopes, 
and an untimoly grave. Johnson had gone, 
no ono knew whither. Ho had obtained 
leave of absence for a few weeks on the pre¬ 
tence of visiting friends in Ohio. The de¬ 
sertion of one whom gossip had fixed upon 
as her champion and lover, w r as also inter¬ 
preted against her. 
[Concluded next week.] 
Some writers and speakers are apt to deal 
too exuberantly in the ono article—fancy; 
and. though you are amused for the moment 
with tho rocket showers of brilliant and 
many-tinted ideas that fall sparkling around 
v m, when tho exhibition is ended you are 
disappointed to find that the whole was but 
momentary, and that from the ruby and em¬ 
erald rain, scarcely ono gem oi solid thought 
i emains. 
TIPSY DROLLERY. 
Oct of the tavern I’ve just stepped to night; 
Street! you ere caught in a very bad plight. 
Right hand and left hand are both out of place; 
Street, you are drunk, ’tis a very clear case. 
Moon, ’tis a very queer figure you cut; 
One eye is staring while t’other is shut. 
Tipsy, i e ; and you're greatly to blame; 
Old a you are 'tis a terrible shame. 
Then the street lamps, what a sei-.ndalous sight! 
None of them soberly standing uprignt, 
Rocking and staggering; why, on my word, 
Each of the lamps is as drunk as a lord. 
All is confusion; now isn’t it odd ? 
1 am the only thing sober abroad. 
Sure it were rath with this crew to remain, 
Better go into the tavern again. 
[N. Y. Evening Post. 
WOMAN. 
^ontij’0 ffittSBUtn. 
Womaw a cure for every bane, 
The polished link in beauty’s chain; 
A paragon that hath a charm, 
Man’s fiercest passions to disarm; 
Her voice to him is like the dove, 
For him she weaves the web of love, 
For him her prayer to heaven ascends, 
Ilis manners and his shirts she mends. 
Rise of Mercury. —Tho Cleveland Her¬ 
ald gives tho following examplo of the 
“ cuteness” of an Irish nursery girl employed 
in a family in that city, and the truly Hiber¬ 
nian plan adopted by "her for regulating the 
temperature of a room by a thermometer. 
Sho was told to keep the instrument in tho 
nursery at a certain point, but on entering 
one morning, her mistross found the room 
very cold, and tho girl sitting by the stove, 
holding the thermometer closo to the fire, 
because, as sho 6aid, “ the little spalpeen had 
run clean down most, and sho was warmin’ 
it up, an’ sure she’d got it most up again.” 
Meanwhile, though the mercury was getting 
warm, the room wasn’t.- 
John Tick, clock-maker to tho King of 
Loo Choo (by appointmont,) and watch¬ 
maker to the heir-apparent of tho King of 
the Cannibal Islands (by appointment,) begs 
to call attention to his ne-plus-ultra nover- 
say-die watch. Goes for ever without wind¬ 
ing up—the glass can’t break—it strikes 
with a cathedral tone, and plays the Row 
Polka and tho Dead March in Saul, every 
alternate quarter of an hour—never noeds 
cleaning; and tho general idea of tho whole 
is so bright that the dial can always be seen 
distinctly in tho dark. N. B.—The watch 
would have carried off a council modal, had 
it not been for the maker not sending it to 
the Exhibition. 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to doubt; 
Nothing - * so hard, but search will find Hour/ 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS.-No. 3. 
^MLUfl-UX- 
' Answer next week. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
A MODEL ENIGMA. 
The following Enigma is composed of 30 letters. 
The 1, 26, 18, 20, 11, 14; the" 16, 15, 29, 6, 27, 
19, 16; the 6, 9, 12, 6, 19, 8, 30 : the 24, 9, 18,29, 
25, 28; and the 16,25, 1,9,21,25—are some of the 
most valuable culinary roots. 
The 28, 25, 10, 15, 7, 25; the 24,18, 9, 20, 4, 3, 
29, 18, 30; the 10, 17, 12, 25, 20; the 29, 9, 6, 16, 
4, 5, 18, 29, 13; and the 24, 26, 29, 18, 15, 27, 1, 
—are some of tho most delicious table fruits. 
The 16, 12, 26, 10; tho 14, 23, 9, 24,22; the 15, 
14, 16, 12, 17 ; the 16, 5, 15, 18, and the 9, 14,29, 
19, 24, 25, 1—are some of our most valuable fruit 
trees. 
The 10, 15, 16, 12, 17 ; the 16, 19, 27, 17 ; the 
6, 14, 18, 26, 24, 23 ; the 4, 3, 9, 24, 2 ; and the 6, 
30, 24, 15, 10,25,29,5—are some of the best orna¬ 
mental and forest trees. 
Tho 7, 26, 12, 11,16 ; the 12, 11, 12, 30; the 16, 
3, 1, 26, 20, 19, 9 ; the 16, 25, 14, 16, 13 < and the 
24, 22, 19, 20, 9, 15, 6, 7, 3, 18—arc a few choice 
garden flowers. 
My whole when solved will show what people 
do say the Rural New-Yorker is. i. w. b. 
pgr*Answer next week. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
A CHARADE. 
■While men and their children grow old, 
Through sunshine, through snow, and through 
rain, 
My strong arms, I silent uphold,— 
Three letters compose all my name. 
My first is one fourth of my third, 
My second’s one fifth of my first; 
My whole is the home of bird. 
The place where its young brood is nursed o. 
ir Answer nexl week. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 106. 
Answer to Iluustrated Rebus, No. 2: 
Thf, Bomb Shell Line. —Somebody, speak¬ 
ing of tho hurrying propensities of Yankees, 
says: 
“ If a mortar could be constructed, which 
would throw an immense bomb-shell, con- j 
tabling fifteen passengers, from St. Louis to 
Boston in five minutes, with an absolute cer¬ 
tainty that fourteen out of fifteen would be 
killed by the explosion, tickets for state 
rooms by the ‘Express Bomb-shell Line,’ 
would at once be at a premium; each pas¬ 
senger being anxious for a chance to prove 
himself tho lucky fifteenth.” 
A Good Reason. — An Irish traveling 
merchant, alias a peddlar, asked an itinerant 
poulterer tho price of a pair of fowls. 
“ Six shillings, sir.” 
“In my counthry, my darling, you might 
buy them for saxpence a pace.” 
“Why didn’t you remain in your own dear 
country, then ?” 
“ Case, we havo no saxpences, my jewel,” 
said Pat. 
Butter ! Butter !!— “ School butter” any 
sort of butter, if you’ve got any sort send it 
in; if you haven’t, milk, churn, stir it in 
gourds, any way, so that we can got some. 
Not a “lick” in two weeks, no bacon, no 
tallow, nothing but beef. beef, beet, till we 
will lay a wager that with the help of a little 
grease, wo can blow any horned animal east 
of the Rocky Mountains.— Nashville, (N. 
C.) Messenger. 
A Hint to Letter Writers. —The follow¬ 
ing lines written on the envelope ot an un¬ 
paid letter, which passed through tho Port¬ 
land post-ofiice the other day, may servo as 
a hint to correspondents, to pay thoir post¬ 
age on the score of economy : 
“ The post an extra gain has made 
Because your last was not pre-paid; 
The same is tiue of this reply— 
You’ve lost two cents, and so have I !*’ 
Francis I. asked ono day of Dutchetcl, 
the learned Bishop of Orleans, if ho was a 
gentleman. “ Sire,” was tho prelate’s re¬ 
ply, “ in the ark of Noah there were three 
brothers—I cannot tell from which of them 
I am descended.” 
“ Mother, send for the doctor.” 
“ Why, my son ?” 
“ Cause that man in the parlor is going to 
die; he said he would if sister Jane would not 
marry him; and Jane said she wouldn’t.” 
Good Advice. —People who attend fires 
should never throw tho bureaus out of tho 
window until a sufficient number of people 
have accumulated beneath to break tho fall.’ 
' Horrid !—A man’s wedding day is called 
his “ bridal day.” Some one says it ought 
to be written bridle. 
4HSSSV JUTS* 
Many embrace infidelity and propagate error. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem.—Bottle, bowl 
and dram, $1,50 
Ham 0,80. 6451612903225 
Hen 0,16.1290322580645 
Herring 0,03.2258064516129 
$2,50 
decimal being a circulate, carry at 9 on the 
right hand in adding. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma.—Moore’s 
Rural New-Yorker” for eighteen hundred and 
fifty two. 
HOOKE’S RURAL NEW-Y0KKER: 
A WEEKLY HOME MEWSPArER, 
Designed for both Country and Town Residents. 
CONDUCTED BY D. D. T. MOORE, 
Assisted by Messrs. J. H. Bixbt, L. Wethfp.ell, 
and H. C. White — with a numerous corps of 
able Contributors and Correspondents. 
The Rural New-Yorkku is designed to be unique and 
beautiful in appearance, and unsurpassed in Value, Purity 
aud Variety of Contents. Its conductors earnestly labor 
to make it a Reliable Guide on tbe important Practical 
Subjects connected with the business of those whose inter¬ 
ests it advocates. It embraces more Agricultural, Horti¬ 
cultural, Scientific, Mechanical, Literary aud News Matter 
—interspersed with many appropriate and handsome en¬ 
gravings—titan any other paper published.in litis Country. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year — 81 for six mouths. To Club* 
and Agents as follows :— Three Copies, one year, for &i>: 
.Six Copies (and one to Agent or getter up of club,) tor 8 Mi; 
Ten Copies (and one to Agent,) for $15; Twenty Copies 
for826. and any additional mtmlier. directed to individuals 
at the same rate. Six months subscriptions in proportion. 
Post-Masters, Clergymen, Teachers, Officers aim Mem¬ 
bers of Agricultural Societies, and other influential persons 
of ail professions — friends of Mental and Moral as wet! as 
of Agricultural Improvement — are res|iectfully solicited tc 
obtain and forward subscriptions to the Xew-Vokkkr. 
Of”Subscription money, properly enclosed, may lie 
tent by mail at our risk. 
TERMS OF ADVERTISING : 
A limited number of appropriate advertisements will b e 
inserted m the New-Yorker, at the rate of 81 |>er square 
twelve lines or less,) for the first insertion, and 3D cents for 
each subsequent publication.—To be paid for in advance. 
It is said that the secret of the success of Mrs, 
Miller, the celebrated tobacconist, is because sho 
hits so much capital to back her. — Ex. 
She’s the business woman for you—always up 
to snuff, and always looking for the quid pro quo! 
—There’s no secret at ttlL Any lady can succeed, 
if she chews .— Gin. Inquirer. 
Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, is one of the very best 
family journals with which we are acquainted. Iw me- 
c.haiiical execution, its illustrations, and the arrangement 
of its contents are complete. The character ot its editori¬ 
als, communications, and selections are of the highest 
order, it must obtain a wide circulation.—[Louisville 
Journal. 
We can recommend nothing better, in its way, to farm¬ 
ers; or to farmer’s good wives; or to all youug Indies w bo 
ever expect to become good wives; or to any and tin, of 
wbatever sex or age, engaged in rural, economiiat, and in¬ 
dustrial pursuits, than the Rural New-Yorker.—[Christum 
Herald. 
We think it a model paper for the fanner’s family,and oi 
a kind much more likely to be generally patronised, than 
those purely agricultural. If we were to start a peri - 
odical again, it would be in imitation of the Rural New- 
Yorker.— [American Agriculturist. 
Moore’s Rdrai. New-Yorker is a beautifully embel¬ 
lished and richly filled Agricultural, Horieulturat aud Pic¬ 
torial weekly journal It enjoys a wide circulation.— 
[Roch. Daily American. 
We say aga ; s. this Rural New-Yorker is as interesting 
a paper as can be found in the State or Union. This is no 
putf, but our real sentiment, and expressed because ills 
justly demanded.—Sackett’s Harbor Observer. 
