iMW’W»*i’>i«iOW , i 
84 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
.-^A ^ r n^ v-i wrv.’' j^a, wMVBCTatwgft^^ w^M mneiwi Mt a mi wwi 
THE MOUNTAIN BOY”S SONG. 
[The following gem of poetry is from Prof. Kendrick's 
recent volume, “ Echoes, or Leisure Hours with the Gor¬ 
man Poets,” published by Wm. N. Pace, of this city, 
is a fino rendering of a most spirited German lyric.] 
The mountain shepherd boy am I; 
The proudest towers beneath me lie ; 
Here earliest shines the opening day, 
Here latest dwells its parting ray : 
I am the mountain boy I 
The infant stream is cradled here, 
I drink it from its fount so cloar : 
Down from the rock it wildly ravos, 
My arms receive its forming wavos : 
I am the mountain boy I 
The mountain—’tis my horitage : 
When wildest storms around me rage, 
From north and south their fury pour, 
Still swells my song above their roar, 
I am the mountain boy ! 
Thunder and lightning are beneath, 
Yet here in heaven’s own blue I breathe ; 
I hear them, and aloud I cry : 
Pass ye my father’s dwelling by ! 
I am the mountain boy 1 
When on my oar the alarm bell thrills, 
When blaze the fires along the hills, 
Swift I descend and join the throng, 
And swing my sword, and sing my song : 
I am the mountain boy ! 
gift's lussmuL 
CURIOUS ANECDOTE 
ABOUT DR. FRANKLIN AND HIS MOTHER 
It was an idea of Doctor Franklin’s if not 
a settled opinion, that a mother might, by a 
kind of instinct of natural affection, recognize 
her children, even though she had lost the 
recollection of their features. And on a visit 
to his native town of Boston, he determined to 
ascertain by experiment whether this theory 
was correct or not. 
On a bleak and chilly day in the month o 
January, the Doctor, late in the afternoon, 
knocked on the door of his mother’s house, 
and asked to speak with Mrs. Fran Win. lie 
found the old lady knitting before tjie parlor 
fire. He introduced himself, and observing 
that he understood she entertained travelers, 
requested lodging for the night. 
She eyed him with that cold look of disap 
probation which most people assume who im¬ 
agine themselves insulted by being supposed to 
exercise an employment which they deem a 
degree below their real occupation in life. She 
assured him he had been misinformed—she did 
not keep a tavern, nor did she keep a house to 
entertain strangers. It was true, she added, 
that to oblige some members of the Legisla¬ 
ture, she took a small number of them into 
her family during the session ; that she had 
four members of the Council and six of the 
House of Representatives, who then boarded 
with her, and that all her beds were full. 
Having said this, she resumed her knitting 
with that intense application which said, as 
forcibly as action could, if you have concluded 
your business, the sooner you leave the house 
the better. But on the Doctor’s wrapping his 
coat about him, affecting to shiver, and ob¬ 
serving that the weather was very cold, she 
pointed to a chair, and gave him leave to warm 
himself. 
The entrance of boarders prevented all fur¬ 
ther conversation. Coffee was soon served 
and he partookwith the family. To the coffee, 
according to The good old custom of the times 
succeeded a plate of pippins, pies, and a paper 
of tobacco, when the whole company formed a 
cheerful semi-circle before the fire. 
Perhaps no man ever possessed colloquial 
powers in a more fascinating degree than Dr 
Franklin, and never was there an occasion on 
which he displayed them to better advantage 
than the present one. He drew the attention 
of the company by the solidity of his modest 
remarks, instructing- them by the varied, new 
and striking lights in which he placed his sub 
jects, and delighted them with apt illustrations 
and amusing anecdotes. 
Thus employed the hours passed merrily 
along, until supper was announced. Mrs 
Franklin, busied with her household affairs, 
supposed the intruding stranger had left the 
house immediately after coflee, and it was with 
difficulty she saw him seat himself at the table 
with the freedom of a member of the family 
Immediately after supper, she called an 
elderly gentleman, a member of the Council 
in whom she was accustomed to confide, in 
another room, complained bitterly of the rude¬ 
ness of the stranger, told the manner of his in 
troduction to her house, observed that 
seemed an outlandish sort of a man. She 
thought he had something very suspicious in 
his appearance, and she concluded by soliciting 
her friend’s advice as to the way she could 
most easily rid herself of his presence. The 
old gentleman assured her that the stranger 
was surely a young man of good education 
and, to all appearance, a gentleman—that 
perhaps, being in agreeable company, he paid 
no attention to the lateness of the hour. He 
advised her to call the stranger aside and re¬ 
peat her inability to lodge him. She accord¬ 
ingly sent her maid to him, and with as much 
complacency as she could command, she re¬ 
capitulated the situation of her family, observ¬ 
ed that it grew late, and mildly intimated he 
would do well to seek lodgings. 
The Doctor replied that he would by no 
means incommodate her family, but with her 
leave he would smoke one more pipe with her 
boarders, and then retire. 
He returned to the company, filled his pipe, 
and with the first whiff his conversational pow¬ 
ers returned with double force. He recounted 
the hardships endured by their ancestors; he 
extolled their piety, virtue and devotion to re¬ 
ligious freedom. The subject of the day’s de¬ 
bate in the House of Representatives was 
mentioned by one of the members. A bill had 
been introduced to exlend the perogatives of 
the royal governor. The Doctor immediately 
joined in the discussion, supported the colonial 
•ights with new and forcible arguments, was 
amiliar with the names of the influential men 
in the House when Dudley was Governor; re¬ 
cited their speeches, and applauded their noble 
defence of the charter of rights. 
, During a discourse so appropriately inter- 
11 esting to the delighted company, no wonder 
the clock struck eleven unperceived by them. 
Nor was it a wonder that the patience of Mrs. 
Franklin became entirely exhausted. She 
now entered the room and addressed the Doc¬ 
tor before the whole company, with a warmth 
glowing with a determination to be her own 
protectress. She told him plainly that she 
thought herself imposed on, but that she had 
friends who would defend her, and insisted that 
he should immediately leave the house. 
The Doctor made a slight apology and de¬ 
liberately put on his great coat and hat, took 
polite leave of the company, and approached 
the street door, attended by the mistress and 
lighted by the maid. 
While the Doctor and his companions had 
been enjoying themselves within, a most tre¬ 
mendous storm of wind and rain had occurred 
without, and no sooner had the maid lifted the 
latch than a roaring north-easter forced open 
the door, extinguishing the light, and almost- 
filled the entry with drifted snow and hail.— 
As soon as the canole was relighted, the Doc¬ 
tor cast a woful look toward the door and 
thus addressed his mother : 
“ My dear madam, can you turn me out in 
this storm ? I am a stranger in this town and 
will perish in the street. You look like a 
charitable lady—I should not think that you 
could turn a dog from your house this cold 
and stormy night.” 
Don’t talk of charity,” replied his mother ; 
“charity begins at home. It is your own 
fault, not mine, that you have tarried so long. 
To be plain with you, sir, 1 do not like either 
your looks or your conduct, and fear you have 
some bad design in thus intruding yourself into 
my family.” 
'the wrath of this parley had drawn the 
company irom the parlor, and by their united 
interference the stranger was permitted to 
lodge in the house; and as no bed could be 
had, he consented to rest in the easy chair be¬ 
fore the parlor fire. 
Though the boarders appeared to confide in 
the stranger’s honesty, it was not so with Mrs. 
Franklin. With suspicious caution she col¬ 
lected her silver spoons, pepper-box and por¬ 
ringer from her closet, and after securing her 
parlor door by sticking a fork over the latch, 
carried the valuables to her chamber, charging 
the negro man to sleep with his clothes on, to 
take tiie great cleaver to bed with him, and to 
waken and seize the vagrant at the first noise 
he should make in attempting to plunder. 
Mrs. Franklin rose before the sun, roused 
the domestics, and was quite agreeably sur¬ 
prised to find her terrific guest quietly sleep¬ 
ing in his chair. She awoke him with a cheer¬ 
ful good morning, inquired how he had rested, 
and invited him to partake of her breakfast, 
which was always served previous to that of 
her boarders. 
“ And pray, sir,” said Mrs. Franklin, “ as 
you appear to be a stranger in Boston, to what 
distant country do you belong?” 
“ I belong, madam, to the colony of Penn¬ 
sylvania, and reside in Philadelphia.” 
* At the mention of Philadelphia, the doctor 
declared he for the first time perceived some¬ 
thing like emotion in her. 
“ Philadelphia !” said she, while the earnest 
anxiety of a mother suffused her eye ; “ why, 
if you live in Philadelphia perhaps you know 
my son?” 
“ Who, madam ?” 
“ Ben Franklin, my dear Ben. Oh, now I 
would give the world to see him ! He is the 
dearest son that ever blessed a mother.” 
“ What 1 is Ben Franklin the printer your 
son ? Why, he is my most intimate friend. 
He and I worked together and lodged in the 
same room.” 
“ Oh ! Heaven forgive me !” exclaimed the 
lady, raising her tearful eyes ; “ and have I suf¬ 
fered a friend of my son Ben to sleep upon 
this hard chair, while I myself rested on a 
soft bed!” 
Mrs. Franklin then told her unknown guest 
that though he had been absent from her ever 
since he was a child, she could not fail to know 
him among a thousand strange faces; for 
there was a natural feeling in the breast of ev¬ 
ery mother, which she knew would enable her, 
without the possibility of a mistake, to recog¬ 
nize her son in any disguise he might assume. 
Franklin doubted, and took leave to dispute 
his mother’s proposition on the power of natu¬ 
ral feeling. He said he had tried this “ natu¬ 
ral feeling” in his own mother, and found it 
deficient in the power she ascribed to it. 
“ And did your mother,” inquired she, “ not 
know you ? or if she did not seem to know you, 
was there not in her kindness to you an evi¬ 
dence that she saw something in your appear¬ 
ance which was dear to her, so that she could 
not resist treating you with particular tender¬ 
ness and affection ?” 
“ No, indeed,” replied Franklin, “ she neither 
knew me, nor did she treat me with the least 
symptom of kindness. She would have turned 
me out of doors but for the interposition of 
strangers. She could hardly be persuaded to 
let me sit at her table. 1 knew I was in my 
mother’s house, and had a claim upon her hos¬ 
pitality ; and, therefore, you may suppose, 
when she peremptorily commanded me to leave 
the house, I was in no hurry to obey.” 
“ Surely,” interrupted his mother, “ she could 
not have treated you so unmotherly without 
some cause.” 
“ I gave her none,” replied the doctor. “ She 
would tell you herself I had always been a du¬ 
tiful son—that she doated upon me, and then 
when I came to her house as a stranger, my be¬ 
havior was scrupulously correct and respect¬ 
ful. It was a stormy night, and I had been 
absent so long that I had become a stranger in 
the place. I told my mother this, and yet, so 
little was she influenced by that ‘ natural feel¬ 
ing’ of which you speak, that she absolutely 
refused me a bed, and would hardly suffer 
what she called my presumption in taking a 
seat at the table. But this was not the worst, 
but no sooner was the supper ended than my 
good mother told me with an air of solemn 
earnestness, that I must leave the house.” 
Franklin then proceeded to describe the 
scene at the front door—the snow-drift that 
came so opportunely into the entry—his appeal 
to her “ natural feeling” of a mother—her un¬ 
natural and unfeeling rejection of his prayer-— 
and, finally, her very reluctant compliance 
with the solicitations of other persons in his 
behalf—that he might be permitted to sleep 
in a chair. 
Every word in this touching recital went 
home to the heart of Mrs. Franklin, who would 
not fail to perceive that it was a true narrative 
of the events of the preceding night in her own 
house; and, while she endeavored to escape 
from the self-reproach that she had acted the 
part of an unfeeling mother, she could not 
easily resist the conviction that the stranger, 
who became more and more interesting to her 
as he proceeded in his discourse, was indeed her 
own son. But when she observed the tender 
expressiveness of his eyes as he feelingly reca¬ 
pitulated the circumstance under which she 
attempted to turn him shelterless into the 
street, her maternal conviction overcame all 
remaining doubt, and she threw herself into 
his arms, exclaiming—“ It must be—it must 
be my dear Ben !” 
OMER PASHA’S GLOVES. 
A SHORT AND TRUE STORY. 
an inventory of his effects, and the other of a 
purse full of gold with a beautiful sabre.— 
Omer at once understood the choice that was 
ottered him, the fortune of the trader and the 
hand of his daughter, or departure and a mili¬ 
tary life with the means of getting to the 
nearest camp. He hesitated a while, but at 
length decided to keep the ring and the inven¬ 
tory, and return the sabre and the purse. 
On the following day the two young people 
ere betrothed amid great family rejoicings. 
But the day after, the young lady, overpow¬ 
ered by her good fortune, was taken ill, never 
to recover. For a week or more her father 
and plighted lover watched over her with the 
tenderest solicitude, and received her last sigh 
with tears. Then the merchant once more 
presented the sabre and the purse to the young 
man, with these words :—“ It is the will of | 
God! It was so decreed. May glory be 
more true to you than happiness!” Omer 
now accepted the weapon, and kissing the icy 
hand of the departed angei,set out for Widdin, 
where he became Hussein’s aid-de-camp, as we 
have already stated. After the death of the 
pasha of Widdin, Omer went to Constantino¬ 
ple, and there rose rapidly from jpank to rank, 
till he reached that of mushir. and was appoint¬ 
ed in 1852 to the chief command of the Otto¬ 
man forces, in consequence of his distinguish- 
merit and eminent success.— Albion. 
Wilit to luntor. 
In a recently publisher! history of modern 
Greece and its insurrections, the following in¬ 
teresting particulars are given with regard to 
Omer Fasha, the commander-in-chief of the 
Turkish force: 
About fifteen years ago a young man arri¬ 
ved at Widdin,' aud asked to see Hussein 
Pasha, the commander of the place. His per¬ 
sonal appearance was unusually prepossessing, 
being at once handsome and majestic. His 
complexion was fair and clear, his eyes soft 
and penetrating, and his limbs pliant and ath¬ 
letic. The Turks, who have a superstitious 
veneration for a physiognomy, and to whom, 
therefore, good looks are prominently, as 
Queen Elizabeth said, an excellent letter of 
respect, Hussein was at this time encamped 
before Widdin, and living in a superb tent, to 
which the young stranger was directed. He 
happened unfortunately to get there just as 
Hussein was waking up in no very good 
humor. 
“ What do you want ?” said he impatiently 
to the intruder. 
“ To enter your excellency’s service,” was 
the reply. 
“ I have too many attendants already.” 
In Turkey it is allowable for people in the 
humblest condition to offer presents to a dis¬ 
tinguished personage without any offence.— 
Accordingly the young man pulled a small 
parcel, carefully done up, out of his pocket, 
and presented it to the Fasha begging him to 
accept it. 
“ What is this ?” said the Fasha, when he 
had opened the parcel. 
“ Gloves, yonr excellency.” 
“ And of what use are they ?” 
“ When you go out in the sun, they will 
preserve the color of your hands, (the Pasha’s 
were very white) and when you are riding, 
they will prevent them Irom being blistered by 
the bridle.” 
“ But how do you put them on ?”jj 
The young man answered by putting one on 
the Pasha’s hand. 
“ Now the other.” 
This was also put on.' Hussein then clap¬ 
ped his hands, and raised them above his head, 
just as the officers of his suite were entering 
the tent. Thanks to his pair of gloves, which 
were the admiaation of the Pasha and his 
stall, the stranger was admitted into Hussein’! 
service, and became his confidential aid-de- 
camp. Now this stranger was no other than 
Michal Hattas, a native of Croatia, formerly 
inspector of roads and bridges in Austria, and 
now Omer Pasha, the heroic and illustrious 
commander-in-chief of the Turkish army. 
How was it that this young man without 
country, this fugitive without resource, this 
German who had turned Turk, thus made his 
destiny turn upon a pair of gloves? The 
answer is no less curious than what has al 
ready been stated. 
Michael, the fourth son of Peter Hattas, 
poor Austrian noble, was so weakly in his in 
fancy, that, but for the greatest efforts of ma¬ 
ternal affection, he must have died long before 
reaching the age of manhood. At eighteen he 
was entrusted with the superintendence of 
bridges and roads at Carlstadt, at twenty he 
was appointed sub-inspector at Zara, in Del 
matia. Having been compromised in a polit¬ 
ical affair, he fled from his country to the 
Turkish frontier, with only a small sum in his 
pocket. The first village he came to after 
crossing the frontier was called Omer Unis, so 
he assumed the name of Omer with the turban, 
and proceeded at random through the province 
of Bosnia. Here he was waylaid by robbers, 
who stripped him of everything, not even ex¬ 
cepting his clothes, and left him naked on the 
road. A peasant happened to pass by soon 
afterwards, and pitying his destitute condi¬ 
tion, received him into his house, and gave 
him some money. He was thus enabled to 
reach Banjalouka, where he entered a situation 
in a shop. Here it w r as his good fortune to 
meet with a favorable turn in the current of 
his history. His employer had a charming 
daughter. Omer was not insensible to her at¬ 
tractions. The young girl could not without 
emotion see this exile, pursued by misfortune 
—this brave and gallant engineer, reduced to 
the position of a clerk—that hand so elegant 
and white, yet so energetic and manly, doomed 
to the inglorious occupation of holding a pen 
instead of wielding a sword. 
The two young people understood each 
other without speaking together, and the father 
saw clearly what was going on between them 
without being admitted to the confidence of 
either. One morning he sent Omer two pre. : 
ents, one consisting of a marriage ring with 
BAD LUCK.”—BRIEFLY. 
Prof. Bimelech Van Tassel, says :—Some 
men seem to take as naturally to bad luck as 
women do to good singers. Struggles has al 
ways been trying to get rich, but all to no 
purpose. During the Avar with Mexico, 
Struggles invented a machine for turning out 
a thousand wooden legs in an hour. The day 
after he completed it, peace was declared, leav¬ 
ing Struggles with 10 cords of “spiled tim¬ 
ber ” on hand. Last summer he got up a ma¬ 
chine for opening oysters. He just got it so it 
would work,” when the papers came out 
with a statement, that oysters were “ pizen,” 
and that nobody should visit Princess Bay, 
who wished to occupy a place in the next cen¬ 
sus. This ruined Struggles again. He sold 
his invention to a saw-tiler, taking his note, 
payable in GO days. The proceeds, he depos¬ 
ited in the Diddleton bank, which failed the 
next day, leaving Struggles the owner of two 
shirts, and an unpaid washerwoman. A few 
weeks since, our friend got up another idea, a 
contrivance, by means of which he thinks peg¬ 
ging awls can be so planted, that trees shall 
spring from them, bearing boots and brogans. 
But, as he says, “ where’s the use ?” In less 
than a week after he gets things “ under way ” 
again all the children that come into the world 
would be born without legs. Struggles is 
getting low-spirited, and is reading about 
aconite. We can’t say that we wonder at it. 
A LEARNED ELEPHANT. 
tojr's (ftinm 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 42 letters. 
My 1, 4, 20, 17, 2, 18, 35 is a celebrated 
French critic. 
My 3, 6, 6, 14, 42 is an ancient name for 
Ireland. 
My 9, 29, 24, 23, 10 was a certain King of 
Sicily. 
My 2,13, 4, 32, 26 was an illustrious Roman 
scholar and lawyer. 
My 41, 40, 16, 20, 33, 26, 39, 34, 22 was 
anciently one of the most powerful King¬ 
doms of Europe. 
My 12, 8, 21, 29, 13 was a country of Asia 
Minor, whose people were very base and 
contemptible. 
My 11, 22, 38, 35, 32 was a distinguished 
American. 
My 36, 37, 42, 30, 18, 21 was the daughter 
of Neptune and mother of Achilles. 
My 19, 10, 39, 31, 6, 5, 40, 2 is a certain city 
in North America. 
My 7, 15, 17, 42 is a great Phoenician city. 
My 25, 34, 27, 26, 14 was a renowned and 
liberal Athenian General. 
My 36,18, 28, 26,14 was a certain misanthro¬ 
pic Athenian. 
My whole is a very impressive but sad ex¬ 
clamation of the celebrated Madam Roland. 
Akron, N. Y., Fob., 1855. O. A. 
Answer next week. 
CHARADE. 
To my first is owing, that excellen t thing, 
“The Roast Beef of Old England,” we con¬ 
stantly sing ; 
My second oft dangers presents, which to pass 
Would puzzle the wisest much more than 
the ass ; 
But my whole shows a goal, better reached 
by the slow, 
For, if you are fast, you will find it no go. 
Answer next week. 
SIT UPRIGHT. 
“ That’s a werry knowin’ hanimal ofyour’n,” 
said a cockney to the elephant’s keeper. 
“ Very,” said the keeper, quite cool. 
“ He performs strange tricks and hantics, 
don’t he?” inquired the cockney, eyeing the 
animal through a glass. 
“ Werry surprising, indeed,” said the keep¬ 
er. “ Among other queer things we've learnt 
him to put money in that box up tliar. Try 
him with a dollar.” 
The cockney handed the elephant a dollar, 
and sure enough he took it in his trunk, and 
placed it in a box high out of reach. 
“Yell, that’s wery hextraordinory—liaston- 
ishin’ truly ! Now let’s see him take it hout 
and ’and it back.” 
“ We never learnt him to do that,” replied 
the keeper, with a knowing look, and then 
turned to stir up the monkeys and punch the 
hyenas. 
“ No, I never go to cliurch ( ” said a country 
tradesman to his parish minister, “ I always 
spend Sunday in settling accounts.” The pas¬ 
tor replied, “ The scriptures say that the day 
of judgment will be spent in the same 
manner.” 
“Sit upright! sit upright, my son !” said 
a lady to her son, George, who had formed a 
wretched habit of bending whenever he sat 
down to read. His mother had told him that 
he could not breathe right unless he sat up¬ 
right. But it was no use ; bend over he would, 
in spite of all his mother could say. 
“Sit upright, Master George!” cried his 
teacher, as George bent over his copy book at 
school. “ If you don’t sit upright like Master 
Charles, you will ruin your health, and possi¬ 
bly die of consumption.” 
This started Master George. He did not 
want to die, and he felt alarmed. So after 
school he said to his teacher, “ Please, sir, ex¬ 
plain to me how bending over when I sit can 
cause me to have the consumption ?” 
“That I will, George,” replied his teacher, 
with a cordial smile. “There is an element 
in the air called oxygen, which is necessary to 
make your blood circulate, and to help it puri¬ 
fy itself by throwing off what is called its car¬ 
bon. When you stoop you cannot take in a 
sufficient quantity of air to accomplish these 
purposes ; hence, the blood remains bad, and 
the air cells in your lungs inflame. The cough 
comes on. Next, the lungs ulcerate, and then 
you die. Give the lungs room to inspire plen¬ 
ty of air, and you will not be injured by study. 
Do you understand the matter now, George ?” 
“ I think I do, sir, and I will try to sit up¬ 
right hereafter,” said George. 
“ Wouldn’t you call this the calf of a leg?” 
asked Bob, pointing to one of his nether 
limbs, somewhat resembling barber-poles — 
“No,” replied Jim, “I should rather say it 
was the leg of a calf!”—Exit Bob, in a hurry. 
The horse “ warranted to stand without 
tying,” which a man bought at auction the 
other day, is offered for sale by the purchaser, 
with the additional guaranty that he will not 
“move without whipping.” 
“ Df.ar Sir,” lisped a great lady, in watered 
silk, at the World’s Fair, “ have the goodness 
to inform me if there are noblemen in the Uni¬ 
ted States ?” “ Yes, ma’am,” answered a full- 
fed Jonathan, “ I am one of them.” 
A young lady declared in our hearing the 
other day, that she would marry no one who 
could not keep her a carriage and horses. A\ e 
presume her lavorite song is, “ Wait for the 
Wagon.” 
“ Now, then, Flathery,” said an author to 
his servant, “ what are you burning off my 
writing-table ?” “ Only the paper that's writ¬ 
ten all over, yer Honor, I haven’t touched the 
clane.” 
To our Correspondents. —An infallible 
remedy for redundancy of style, is for the 
diffuse author to form the habit of writing ad¬ 
vertisements, and paying for their insertion. 
In the market report of a New York paper, 
we find the following significant paragraph : 
“ Canadian peas are dull, in consequence of the 
decline in coffee.” 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 8.— 
Birds of a feather flock together. 
Answer to Acrostical Enigma in No. 9. 
Giovanni, Battista, Belzoni. 
Answer to Puzzle in No. 9: 
S—IX 
I—X 
X—L 
SIX 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N 
Y. 
Office in Burns’ Block, cor. Buffalo and State Sts. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE 
Subscription — $2 a year — $1 for six months. To Clubs 
and Agents as follows :—Three Copies one year, for $5 
Six Copies (and one to Agent or gi^ter up of club,) for $10 
Ten Copies (and one to Agent,) for $15, and any additional 
numbor, at the same rato. As wo are obliged to pro-pay 
the American postage on papers sent to the British Prov 
incos, our Canadian agonts and friends must add 25 cents 
por copy to the club rates of tho Rural. 
%*The postage on the Rural is but 3 y£ cents per quar 
tor, payable in advance, to any part of the State (except 
Monroe County, whore It goes free,)—and 6>£ cents to 
any other section of tho United States. 
Advertising. — Brio! and appropriate advertisements 
will bo inserted at $1,60 per square, (ten lines, or 100 
words,) or 15 cents por line —in advance. Tho circulation 
of the Rural New-Yorker Is several thousand greater 
than that of any othor Agricultural or similar Journal in 
either America or Europo. Patent medicines, etc., will 
not be advertised in this paper on any terms. 
All communications, and business letters, should 
bo addressed to D. D. T. Mookk, Rochester, N. Y. 
The Wool Grower and Stock Register is the only 
American j ournal devoted to tho Wool and Stock Growing 
Interests. It contains a vast amount of useful and relia¬ 
ble information not given in any other work, and should 
be in the hands of Every Owner of Domestic Animals, 
whether locatod East or West, North or South. Published 
monthly in octavo form, illustrated, at only Fifty Cents 
Volume —two volumes a year. Volume 7 commences 
January, 1855. Specimen numbers son t free. 
Address D. D. T. MOORE, Rochester, N. Y 
Mr. C. Moore, of Gerry, Chau. Co., N. Y., is authorised 
to act as Agent for tho Rural Nkw-Yokkkk, and for the 
Wool Grower and Stock Regrter, in the counties 
Chautauque and Cattaraugus, N Y., and Warren, Pa. 
.? 
\ 
i 
t! .....,.; .....-. —.*.*.*.*.— ^ 
