96 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YO RKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
PLANTING THE CORN. 
What shall I do,” the red man said, 
“ To brill" a blessing on my kind 
“ Plant me, - ’ Manitou answered, 
“ And tlion the wished for good shalt find.” 
Then, strong in faith, with patient toil 
The red man wroueht the god’s behest; 
And soon from out the teeming soil 
Arose Manitou’s feathery crest. 
And green it waved-above the plain, 
And when the plant its time had thriven, 
The red man reaped the full eared grain, 
And thus to earth the corn was given. 
Thus, when above oppression’s laws. 
The man to man and justice warm. 
Shall n-ar a suffering people’s cause. 
And bold, and fearless urge reform— 
Whether it be for conscience sake. 
Though even the stake his zeal requite— 
Whether to freedom’s call he wake. 
And lift his righteous hand to smite— 
However to a brother's good, 
His energies are nobly sworn, 
E’en though the grain he cast be blood, 
He plants a god who sows the corn. 
Then scatter wide the bounteous seed, 
And tend it that it thrive and grow; 
And unborn myriads yet shall feed, 
In joy, upon the good yt: sow. 
€\)i Hural |krtrl; 38ook. 
EASY WARREN. 
BY WILLIAM T. COGGSHALL. 
Raymond Warren is a “ nice” man—every 
body’s clever fellow, as I heard a public man 
once remark; ‘‘a very extensive office,” 
with numerous duties never discharged.— 
Raymond used to sit in tho chimney corner 
late, very late on a winter’s night, because 
he was too shiftless to get ready for bed.— 
Rut after a while the fire burned low—the 
glow on the embers faded, and it grew cold 
in the chimney corfier: then Raymond be¬ 
came chilly, and he would sneak to rest, 
where his wife perhaps had been for several 
hours, endeavoring to recover from the 
severe fatigue of a day’s work, into which 
had been crowded the greater portion df her 
husband’s legitimate duties. Raymond own¬ 
ed a large farm, left him by his father. It 
was good land, but the fences were not in 
repair, and everybody’s cattle roamed thro’ 
the fields, and Raymond’s crops were not 
sufficient to yield the family a decent sup¬ 
port. The farm had once been well stocked, 
hut for want of proper attention the cattle 
became poor—tho sheep were never folded, 
even in the most rigorous weather, and many 
of them died. The wool was never proper¬ 
ly sheared and washed, and when taken to 
market it would not bring the market price. 
Had it not been for Raymond’s wife, who was 
a business woman, the family must often have 
suffered for the common necessaries of life. 
Raymond’s chores were rarely attended 
to by himself, hut was a neighbor sick, no 
man was more willing to work in his place. 
He was relied upon as a man who would al¬ 
ways neglect his own interests, to look after 
those of somebody else. He could never 
set himself at his own farm work, hut he 
was considered an excellent hand, when, to 
oblige a neighbor, he took a job in his field. 
It was a bleak morning in mid winter — 
Raymond Warren’s wife was in tho barn¬ 
yard foddering the cattle—Raymond was 
in bed. The light of a brisk fire which his 
wife had built, shone directly in his face.— 
It awakened him—the room was warm, and 
Raymond was persuaded by its inviting ap¬ 
pearance, to arise. He sat down by the fire 
place in his shirt sleeves, and waited for his 
wife to come and get him some breakfast. 
As he warmed his feet lie felt that ho had 
reason to congratulate himself on his happy 
situation and he said to himself:— 
“ Tain’t every man’s got such a wife as I 
have. Here she’s made a good fire, and I’ll 
bet the chores are all done.” 
The chores were done, and Raymond had 
scarcely finished his soliloquy, when the 
useful wife hastened to the fire place to 
warm her hands, which had become 
thoroughly chilled by the cold handle of the 
pitchfork, with which she had been throwing 
hay and straw to the cattle. 
It might be supposed that these occur¬ 
rences took place early in the morning— 
not so. It was ten o’clock when Raymond 
Warren left his bed. His wife had been 
sewing for two hours, before she prepared 
her breakfast; then she urged Raymond for 
an hour longer to get up. He made fair 
promises hut left them all unfulfilled. She 
waited until it was nine o’clock, and know¬ 
ing her husband’s easy habits, and ashamed 
to have tho cattle unfed at that hour of tho 
day, she determined to attend to their wants 
herself. 
Raymond’s first salutation to her as she 
stood by the fire, was, 
“I wish I had some tea, Sally—hut never 
mind, you’v put the things away, a little 
warm water, with a little milk and sugar in 
it, will do just as well, and while you’re about 
it you may get me a little piece of bread; 
hut just as you chooso; no matter about it 
anyhow. Taint every man’s got such a 
woman for a wife.'” 
She might have answered, 
“ It is not every woman that has got such 
a husband.” 
But she knew such remarks would only 
make bitter feelings, and though fatigued 
with tho violent exercise she had taken, she 
went cheerfully and prepared her easy, good 
natured husband a cup of tea, and a slice of 
toast, and then asked him if ho would not 
cut some wood. 
“To be sure I will,” was his response. 
His breakfast over, he took up his axe, 
mounted the wood-pile and eut half a dozen 
sticks, when a neighbor, who wanted Ray- j 
mond to accompany him to a saw mill, about ; 
two miles distant and assist in loading upon 
a sled some hoards which had been sawed 
for him—of course Raymond went, and his j 
wife was compelled to cut wood enough to 
keep the house warm until the following day. : 
Mrs. Warren was in appearance, a feeble 
woman, hut she had endured hardships which 
would have destroyed the constitution of 
one more robust. Day after day her strength 
failed her, yet she made no complaint.— 
Raymond saw that she grew pale, and was 
often disturbed with fears in regard to her, 
hut he was too easy to mention the subject, 
and the useful wife became more and more ; 
feeble, until she was seized with a violent j 
cough. Raymond was one day thoughtful ; 
enough to speak to the village docter as he I 
passed their house with his ponderous modi- i 
cine portmanteau on his arm, and the j 
benevolent gentleman, who had some knowl¬ 
edge of Raymond’s peculiar failings, left the . 
woman an innocent tincture, and forbade j 
exposure to the cold atmosphere under any 
circumstances, and also declared that her 
complaint was of a character very much ag¬ 
gravated by severe exercise. 
For a few days Raymond remembered the 
Doctor’s counsel, and as he had respect for | 
the physician, lie obeyed him as nearly as j 
his constitutional failings permitted, hut 
soon the wife was again obliged to chop wood 
and feed cattle, and taking a severe cold, 
she faded as would fade tho summer rose in 
a frigid climate. 
When Raymond Warren’s house was deso¬ 
late and his fireside cheerless, lie saw what 
had been his great error during the two 
years of his married life, and he mourned 
his wife deeply, it must he said in his favor, 
both as a helpmate and a companion. He 
rented his farm and managed to exist “easily” 
for one year; but he was a domestic man— 
lie was not satisfied with a childless widower’s 
solitary lot. and he began to look about him 
for a second helpmate and companion. In 
a few months he took to his home a woman, 
who lie confidently felt would fill the place 
left vacant by his first wife. Sadly was Ray¬ 
mond disappointed. A few weeks elapsed 
and he fell into his old habit, with complete 
abandon. Leaving his own work in a neg¬ 
lected state, he worked diligently one day 
to assist a neighbor in getting wood to his 
house, and he returned to his home, late at 
night, hungry, and fatigued, expecting that 
his wife would have ready for his refresh¬ 
ment an inviting supper. In this hope, he 
had refused to take supper with the neigh¬ 
bor whom he had assisted. Poor fellow! tho 
kitchen, where was to have been his excel¬ 
lent supper, attended by a smiling wife, was 
cold and unoccupied. No frugal hoard was 
tliere, and Mrs. Warren was in bed. Ray¬ 
mond was much astonished, but was too 
good natured to complain, and silently he 
ventured to explore the cupboard for a crust 
on which to satisfy the gnawings of his ap¬ 
petite. Not a crumb was there. It was 
evident his wife had designed that he should 
go to bed supperless; and supperless to bed 
he diil go, grieving seriously over his hard 
lot. He had never before been so badly 
treated, and he thought it indeed distressing, 
but yet his disappointment was not sad 
enough to revolutionize his constitutional 
good nature, and without a mutter he fell 
sound asleep. 
Raymond Warren did not hear chanticleer 
salute the morning, as it dawned after the 
night of his grievous disappointment. It 
was spring time, and the birds sang under 
his window, but he heard them not; yet he 
heard his wife, who had risen before the sun, 
calling him. 
“Mr. Warren, here I’ve been for an hour 
in the cold. The wood’s all burned; it’s time 
I had some cut. If you want any breakfast 
you had better get up.” 
Was Raymond dreaming? Was this a 
voice of reproach, that came to him in his 
sleep, with recollections of the wife that had i 
gone before him to the Spirit Land? Not j 
so—it was a voice from the wife that dwelt 
with him in this sphere of existence, that 
came to remind him of duties not discharged, 
upon the performance of which depended 
the satisfaction of those desires which had 
intruded visions of feasts upon his hours of 
rest. All this lie felt, still lie did not offer 
to leave his couch. 
“Raymond Warren,” again said the voice, 
“you left me yesterday without wood, to 
help a neighbor get wood for his wife, and 
you went to hod last night without your 
supper. You’li not get a bite to eat m this 
house till you bring me wood to cook it with.” 
“There’s plenty of chips,” said Raymond, 
in palliation, rising on his elbow as he spoke. 
“ Get up, then, and bring them into the 
house,” said the resolute wife. “ I didn’t 
know you when we were married, hut I know 
you now. I know what killed your first wife. 
You want to make a slave of me. I’ll attend 
to my duties; but if you don’t do your chores, 
the cattle may starve, and you’ll never got 
a bite to eat in this house unless you take it 
uncooked, if you don’t cut wood yourself or 
get somebody to do it for you.” 
Raymond started bolt upright, and it was 
not may minutes before he was at the wood 
pile. Diligently did he work until he had 
cut an armful, which, like a dutiful husband, 
for the first time in his life, he carried into 
the kitchen. 
His wife made no allusion to what had 
passed between them, and Raymond, al¬ 
though burning with curiosity to know 
where she had learned what she had re¬ 
vealed to him, dared not commence con¬ 
versation in relation to it. The train of 
evils it might revive was fearful to the easy 
man’s mind. His breakfast over, forgetful 
of its lesson, careless Raymond wandered 
away from homo, his necessary morning la¬ 
bors in his farm-yard unattended to, and his 
wood pile unvisited. He returned home at 
noon, strong in the faith that he should sit 
down to a good dinner, because he was one 
of those men who think that a wife should 
always give her husband a good dinner, 
whether she has anything to cook or not.— 
Mrs. Warren had enough to cook, but noth¬ 
ing to cook with; however, much to Ray¬ 
mond's satisfaction, when he entered his 
home he found tho table spread, and he 
knew lie should soon be invited to take a 
seat near it. 
When the invitation came, he hastened to 
his accustomed seat, lifted the cover from a 
dish that lie supposed contained meat; and, 
truly, there was meat, but just as it came 
from the butcher’s. Raymond was not a 
cannibal; he looked at his wife inquiringly; 
she appeared to be waiting patiently to be 
served. He lifted the cover of another dish: 
there were potatoes just as they had been 
dug from the earth. All the dishes that 
usually contained victuals were covered.— 
Raymond grew suspicious, and he lifted the 
covers hastily. There was bread, as it had 
come from the tray; there were turnips that 
had never been under the influence of fire; 
there were apples handsomely sliced for 
sauce, and there were numerous other edi¬ 
bles, but none of them could Raymond eat. 
He turned for consolation to a cup of tea 
his wife had deposited near his plate. There 
were tea leaves floating in tho cup, but the 
tea looked remarkably pale; nevertheless, 
Raymond, by force of habit, blew it vigor¬ 
ously to prepare it for his palate. But 
when he put it to his lips, lie found that he 
had wasted his breath; for tho water was as 
cold as when it came from the spring. 
Raymond was not a hasty man. Ho 
pushed hack his chair deliberately, and 
thought aloud: 
“ In the name of Heaven, what does this 
mean?” 
Mrs. Warren, whose countenance during 
this scene had worn a sober aspect, now 
smiled pleasantly, and answered: 
“ Tho victuals were all on the stove tho 
usual time.” 
“ It’s strange they are not cooked,” said 
Raymond. 
“ Not at all,” replied Mrs. Warren; “ there 
was no wood to cook them with.” 
In an instant Easy Warren then saw what 
a “ moral” there was in his novel dinner, and, 
with a keen appetite, ho went to work on 
the wood-pile. Ho took his dinner and sup¬ 
per together on that day, and lie remember¬ 
ed what Mrs. Warren said: 
“Now. Raymond, whenever you leave me 
without wood -you must cat vict uals that have 
been cooked on a cold stove.” 
Many women would have stormed and 
scolded, but Mrs. Warren knew there was 
a better way to correct her easy husband’s 
carelessness, or shiftlessness, as the reader 
pleases. 
One day, there was no flour in tho house, 
and Raymond was about to go with some 
neighbors to a town-meeting, when his wife 
hid his best coat, and reminded him of the 
empty flour-barrel. Another day, his corn 
was to he gathered, when a neighbor do- 
sired him to assist him with his horses and 
wagon. It was a neighbor who often re¬ 
ceived favors, hut seldom rendered them; 
yet Easy Warren could not refuse him.— 
But, when he went to hitch his horses be¬ 
fore his wagon, he found that one of the 
wheels was missing. Of course, the neigh¬ 
bor was disappointed. In the afternoon, 
when Raymond expressed a wish to draw 
his corn, his wife told him where he could 
fine the lost wagon-wheel. 
Thus was Easy Warren’s household man¬ 
aged, until lie began to realize practically 
what the error of his life had been. Peo¬ 
ple said: “ Warren’s farm looks much better 
than it did some years ago.” Mrs. Warren 
never interfered with Raymond’s business 
except when he neglected it, and then she 
never found fault or scolded, hut took oc¬ 
casion to show his neglect to him in a man¬ 
ner which impressed him with his injustice 
to his own interest. 
Raymond’s cattle were well cared for, and 
were in good order. When his fences were 
down, if ho did not replace them his wife 
employed a neighbor to make tho necessary 
repairs. His wife took the papers, and read; 
she knew the state of the market, and, to 
oblige her, Raymond had his grain in mar¬ 
ket when the price was highest. Some 
people said: 
“Easy Warren is a hen-peckcd husband.” 
But he knew better; and he often boast¬ 
ed that his wife was more of a “ business 
man” than ho was. 
They had lived together peaceably some 
years, when, one day, Raymond was in a 
good humor thinking over his prosperous 
condition, and ho told his wife—“ I’m a 
woman’s rights man of the true grit. They 
may say you wear the breeches, if they 
please;—I’m satisfied to have you do the 
thinking for our firm. And, now I see what 
a fool 1 have been, I must make up for my 
early shiftlessness.” 
He did make up for his early shiftless¬ 
ness; and, under his judicious wife’s train¬ 
ing, he became Industrious, instead of Easy, 
Warren. 
Mrs. Warren had the correct idea of wo¬ 
man’s rights and woman’s wrongs. We com¬ 
mend her management to those who have 
“ easy husbands.” Especially do we com¬ 
mend it to those unfortunate women who 
have earned for themselves tho opprobrious 
titlo of “ scolds.” — Sartains .Magazine. 
Poetry". —“What was poetry but the lan¬ 
guage of the dh’ine embodied in human 
form—the emanations of a mind that could 
drink deeper into matters of nature than 
another, and who expressed it in language 
that captivated the heart of his fellow man, 
and thereby instructed him in the knowl¬ 
edge of God and of nature ? It was beau¬ 
tiful ; it was something more; it Yvas, in fact, 
the harmony of God’s laws in concord 
brought boautifully down to their reason, 
and so captivated their hearts Yvith the love 
of harmony and the love of nature, that 
wherever they went it inclined them to seek 
for it everywhere else.” 
Reading aloud is conducive to health. 
Jtamtirons nnh framing. 
^oiitfrs Mmm. 
SONNET: TO MY PIPE. 
“ Attempt the end, and never stand to douht; 
Nothing’s so hard, but search will find it out.” 
Thou thing of clay, farewell! I’ve cherished thee 
With deeper love than pen or tongue can tell, 
And hard indeed it is, to say farewell, 
For thou a constant friend hath been to me, 
At breakfast, dinner, lunch, and after tea, 
Oft have I watched thy changing breath 
Go circling upward, now as black as death, 
Now white as foam flocks on an angry sea; 
But thus no more: thou art, old pipe, smoked out. 
No more thy fitful, cloud-like breath shall roll 
In mystic circles from a living bowl, 
To aid digestion and relieve the gout; 
’Tis hard to yeld thee, harder still to say, 
Like other pipes, thou art but common clay. 
A MEDLEY OF ANECDOTES. 
No offence given. —A man of our ac¬ 
quaintance, in his earlier days, was the pos¬ 
sessor of rather more than ordinary talents, 
and has been always noted for his quick per¬ 
ceptions and ready adaptation of answer to 
questions given him, but is now, from vari¬ 
ous causes, at times a raving lunatic. These 
demonstrations were evinced more particu¬ 
larly, during thunder storms and violent 
gusts of wind, which 1m averred were visit¬ 
ations of displeasure from the Almighty.— 
While stopping with a friend who, by the 
way, was fond of questioning “ Uncle Peter,” 
to hear his readily turned answers, ho was 
aroused one night by a furious gale of wind 
Tho poor lunatic could not sleep ; he got 
out of bed and was standing by the window 
when his friend observing him, asked— 
“Why don’t you stay in bed, Uncle 
Peter ?” 
“ Because I’m afraid.” 
“ What are you afraid of ?” his friend ask¬ 
ed again. 
“ Afraid of God to ho sure, I have given 
Him offence, and lie shows His displeasure 
in the wind.” 
“’Aint you afraid of the devil?'’ wickedly 
interrogated tho wag. 
“No,”—bluntly replied Uncle Peter, “I 
have never offended him!” 
Truth Verified. —A gentleman from an 
eastern city, ivas relating with “ great gusto” 
to a gaping crowd in a country bar-room, 
some of the wonderful things performed “ in 
town.” Tho people were greatly surprised 
and rather inclined to skepticism, when he 
spoke of a brick building being actually 
moved without injury, from ono “founda¬ 
tion to another.” A Yankee wit, who had 
been “eyeing” tho stranger rather suspi¬ 
ciously, replied —“It is so! for I came by the 
next day and they wore moving the cellar!” 
A Pointed Argument. —Some difficulty 
having arisen between two persons, the ag¬ 
grieved party appealed to the law for satis¬ 
faction. Tho defendant was called a white 
man, while the plaintiff was “ black as the 
ace of spades.” The white man employed 
a Yankee pettifogger, noted for his wit and 
sarcasm, who, while “ summing up,” address¬ 
ed the jury as follows :—“ Gentlemen of tho 
jury, undoubtedly this ‘suit’ will he decided 
in favor of my client, for the plaintiff’s coun¬ 
sel has plead the cause of every white man 
that would employ him, and now he's plead¬ 
ing for a blamed negro!” uu—uu. 
The Knickerbocker tells the annexed 
good story, which we have no douht is true, 
every word of it: 
“A gentleman in Pennsylvania, who had 
a taste for improved stock, purchased a pair 
of Bremen geese from Hare Powell of Phil¬ 
adelphia. That the speculation might he 
sure to answer, and to preserve the future 
race from contamination, all the native 
geese on his farm were duly decapitated, 
and the foreigners waddled abroad, lords of 
the yard and goose pond. But tho golden 
eggs* of hope proved to bo no eggs at all, 
and two or three years were passed in vain 
expectation. At length some shrewd goose- 
ologist discovered that the purchaser had 
staked his hopes on a pair of ganders. The 
result, however, was an improved mixed 
breed.” 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
HISTORICAL ENIGMA. 
My 4, 2, 15, 20, 12, 6 was a governor of Egypt. 
My 3, 12, 14, 17, 8, 19 was an Emperor murder¬ 
ed by liis soldiers. 
My 3, 5, 8, 13 was an ancient name of France. 
My 22, 18, 14, 17, 5 was an officer and rival of 
Marius. 
My 5, 1, 10, 21, 7, 15 is an ancient city noted for 
its schools. 
My 22, 2, 16, 13 was a King of the Israelites. 
My 11,2, 13,17, 21, 1 was an officer in Hannibal’s 
army. 
My whole is a place much visited and admired. 
Trumansburg, 1852. mattie. 
Answer next week. 
Forthe Rural New-Yorker. 
PHONOGRAPHIC ENIGMA. 
I am composed of eleven sounds. 
My 9, 2, is a pronoun. 
My 11, 4 is a feminine appellation. 
My 9, 10, 6 should he a happy place. 
My 1, 2 is a pronoun but little used. 
My 7, 10, 11 is an oriental city. 
My 3, 4, 7, 6 is a small tract of land. 
My 2, 8 is what the afflicted do not enjoy. 
My whole is what you should strive to make 
pleasant, beautiful and happy. 
Brother George. 
Answer next week. 
Forthe Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
My first betokens improvement; 
My second’s the organ of sight; 
My third, inability utters ; 
My whole is a beggar outright, 
ffgf” Answer next week. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
A Puzzle.— What five letters make a proper 
sentence, acknowledging a debt of £1. Tom. 
Answer next week. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 115. 
Answer to Illustrated Rebus, No. 11: 
Three bold mice (or mice in a bowl,) undertook to 
cross the Dec, but alas the water ovci'whelmcd them. 
Answer to Charade.— Bar-ley. 
VAIA ABSiE FARM FOR SALE. 
A WHEAT FARM, owned by the estate 
liF 1 ! of the late John Rowe, deceased, situ- 
uateu in the town of Riga, Monroe county—one mile west 
of Riga Centre, and three miles from the village of Church- 
ville—containing 210 acres of land, under excellent culti¬ 
vation, except about ;J0 acres of timber. The buildings, 
fences, &c , are all in good repair. The farm is well 
watered, lias a fine apple and peach orchard, &c. 
For further particulars, terms, &c., call at the premises, 
or address the undersigned. JULIA ROWE. 
Riga, Feb., l&rL_ [3t-eow] 
Small Farm for Sale. 
.jiriSV I 
;;;k| a FAR.M containing about forty-live acres 
IB! :i ! under good cultivation, in the town of Phelps, 
Ontario county, about a quarter of a mile from the Depot 
of the Auburn & Rochester Railroad, in the village of East 
Vienna. The house is very conveniently arranged, with 
good closets, cellars, large milk-room, with cement floor, 
water closets, large rain-water cistern, &.c. The barns 
and sheds, are large and convenient. There are on the 
place a large ice house, hen house, smoke house, and place 
for boiling hog-feed, &v., built of stone; a good apple 
orchard of grafted fruit; abundance of peaches and oilier 
fruit; two quarries of excellent stone, suitable for build¬ 
ing purposes or making lime. Every lot on the farm is 
well watere J, there being three never failing springs. The 
buildings and fences are all in good repair, much of the 
latter being of stone. 
For terms and other particulars inquire at the Rural of¬ 
fice, or address or appiy to the subscriber on the premises. 
ROBERT LAY. 
Phelps, Feb. 10,1852. [111-tf.j 
A Good Bill. —xlt a recent party, a pret¬ 
ty miss passed a printer a pie plate of an¬ 
tique manufacture, in the centre of which he 
ospied the following couplet—“ One sweet 
kiss is the price of this.” As soon as an op¬ 
portunity presented, he motioned the young 
lady to his side, and pointing to the lines 
said, “Your payment is ready whenever you 
present your hill.” It xvould be no lack ot 
discretion on the part of any , to suppose that 
he is not the only printer who has found it 
agreeable to bo “ elected” to the payment 
of “ bills” of that sort. 
David Hume used to say, a little miss go¬ 
ing to dance at a ball in a fine new dress, 
was as happy as a great orator after having 
made an oloquent and applauded speech.— 
Dr. Johnson remarked, “A pail does not 
hold as much as a tub ; but if it be equally 
full, it has no reason to complain.” Mr* 
Dilly thought this a clear illustration of tho 
phrase, “ one star difforeth from another star 
in glory.’ 
Two or Three, Reasons. —“ Hallo, Jack! 
I thought you ivero ofl', in the cars, this 
morning?” 
“ Well, I’ll tell you, Jim, thero are two or 
throe reasons Yvhy I didn’t go. In tho first 
place, d’ye see, I got left—” 
“ Oh, never mind! That’ll do. You needn’t 
give the other reason.” 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: 
A WEEKLY HOME MEWSPAPER, 
Designed for both Country and Town Residents. 
CONDUCTED BY D. D. T. MOORE, 
Assisted by Messrs. J. H. Bixby, L. AVktheuell, 
and H. C. AYhite — with a numerous corps of 
able Contributors and Correspondents. 
The Rural New-Yorker is designed to he unique and 
beautiful in appearance, and unsurpassed in Value, Purity 
and Variety of Contents. Its conductors earnestly labor 
to make it a Reliable Guide on the important Practical 
Subjects connected with the business of those whose inter¬ 
ests a advocates. It embraces more Agricultural, Horti¬ 
cultural, Scientific, Mechanical, Literary and News Maticr 
—interspersed with many appropriate and handsome en¬ 
gravings—than any other paper published in this Country. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
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and Agents as follows :— Three Copies, one year, for #5: 
Six Copies (and one to Agent or getter up of club,) lor & ID; 
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at the same rate. Six months subscriptions in proportion. 
Post-Masters, Clergymen, Teachers, Officers and Mem¬ 
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of all professions — friends of Mental and Moral as well as 
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All communications, and letters on business, 
should be directed to D. D. T. Moore, Rochester, N. Y. 
