MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
THE SEA-BOY’S FAREWELL.o 
We are indebted to an obliging friend at Rochester, in 
this State, for tbo following beautiful lines. He obtained 
them “some fifteen years ago, but cannot apprise us of 
their paternity.” It is rare to find sea terms so felici¬ 
tously employed in verse.— Knickerbocker Magazine. 
Wait, wait, ye Winds ! till I repeat 
A parting signal to the fleet, 
Whose station is at home ; 
Then waft the sea-boy’s simple prayer, 
And let it oft be whispered there, 
While in far climes I roam. 
Farewell to Fattier ! revered hulk ! 
In spite of metal, spite of bulk, 
Soon may his cable slip ; 
Yet while the parting tear is moist, 
The flag of gratitude I’ll hoist, 
In duty to the ship. 
Farewell to Mother 1 “first class” she ! 
Who launched me on life’s stormy sea, 
And rigged me, fore and aft; 
May Providence hor timbor’s spare, 
And keep her hull in good repair, 
To tow the smaller craft. 
Farewell to Sister ! lovoly yacht! 
But whether she’ll be “ mannod” or not, 
I cannot now foresee ; 
May some good ship a “ tender ” prove, 
Well found in stores of truth and love, 
And take her under lee. 
Farewell to George 1 the jolly-boat! 
And all the littlp craft afloat 
In home’s dolightful bay ; 
When they arrive at sailing age, 
May Wisdom give the weather-gauge, 
And guide them on their way. 
Farewell to all on Life’s rude main 1 
Perhaps we ne’er shall meet again, 
Through stress of stormy weather ; 
But summoned by the Board above, 
We’ll harbor in the port of Love, 
And all be moored togothor 1 
* “ Our Associate ” has had this beautiful gem in hor 
scrap-drawer for ever so many years. As it seems to 
have been in Rochester before, it is quite fitting that it 
should start from thence again in our stately ship. Wo 
have around us now quite a little fleet that she has “ rig¬ 
ged fore and aft,” since this came to the drawer.—p. 
gift's £ mbm . 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
ALL’S WELL. 
BY J. G. COLE. 
Dong, dong, says the clock of the old Dutch 
Church, announcing the hour of two, one cold 
night in mid-winter. Ding, ding, comes in sil¬ 
very tones from the silvery bell of St. Peter’s, 
ere the other had died away on the night air ; 
while bomb, bomb is the Republican saluta¬ 
tion given at the birth of another hour, by the 
good old bell of the Capitol, before the last 
echo of the other was lost in the distance.— 
“ Two o’clock, and all’s well 1” shouts a man 
with stentorian voice as he emerges from the 
dome of the Capitol, and then returns to his 
warm quarters to snooze another hour. 
Ah! man, is all well 1 
Look into that garret as a single candle 
flickers low in its socket, but dimly lighting 
the room, and note that young girl, w ith pale 
face, large eyes, and emaciated form, as she 
bends over her work which must be finished by 
to-morrow morning. Youth, joy, hope and 
sprightliness have given place to premature 
old age, sorrow', fear and trembling. The face 
that should be radiant with pleasure, never 
wears a smile ; the brow' that should be flush¬ 
ed w'ith hope, is furrowed with care and toil; 
and the heart that should be full of happiness, 
is running over with bitterness. All of youth 
and youthfulness is gone, save that deep and 
ardent love which dwells in the hearts of the 
young. 
Near -her, on a cot, lies a man in the last 
stages of consumption. Death has already 
marked him as a victim, and is W'aiting impa¬ 
tiently to complete the work. This man is 
father to the girl we see. A few years ago, he 
lived in one of the finest houses in Broadway, 
surrounded by luxury and friends, possessing 
health and wealth. But reverses came, busi¬ 
ness was dull—he became involved, death de¬ 
prived him of his wife, sickness prostrated him, 
and anxious creditors took the very necessaries 
of life to satisfy their demands. And now' we 
see him in that miserable garret, with none to 
witness his parting from earth, save that pale 
girl, his daughter. He calls her to his bed¬ 
side, and in a feeble voice, says “ Julia, I 
feel that I am dying, and that my spirit must 
soon return to Him who gave it; but I fear 
not to die ; I only fear to leave you alone in 
this unfriendly world. Yet He who overrules 
all for the best, will watch over and protect 
you, my child, and to Him you must look for 
a father.” 
He sinks back exhausted, and his spirit waits 
its way to another world. See the girl now, 
as she writhes in mental anguish, as if life and 
death were striving for the mastery. Life pre- 
vails,—she revives and views the cold, fixed 
features of her father. Awhile she stands; 
now turning, she perceives the unfinished 
work, and remembers that there is no alterna¬ 
tive—it must be done; so, with a bleeding 
heart, she sets herself to work beside the life¬ 
less form of her father. 
Say, man, is all well ? 
Look in yonder house, before which burns 
two large lamps, and see those young men, 
seated around that table, with another table 
standing near on which are half-emptied decan¬ 
ters. See their eyes look wild with delirium, 
while their loud, fast and profane talk bespeaks 
a tottering reason, and their acts give positive 
indications of the presence of alcohol. 
That young man, with the decanter in his 
hand, is the son of a wealthy merchant, who 
thinks he must have his champagne for com¬ 
pany, and his wine for family use—who thinks 
it is no sin to give his son a drink now and 
then, when introducing him to society—who 
considers a prohibitory law transgressing upon 
individual rights and privileges, and who 
preaches temperance on the basis of moral 
suasion, but who practices it never, on any. 
The one who sits at his right hand is Mr- 
G-, the young jeweler, who has just com 
menced life, having set up in business within 
a year. Less than a year ago he married Miss 
L-, a girl all depth of feeling, well educa¬ 
ted, very intelligent, and calculated to make 
any man happy, any home cheerful. For a 
time he was all attention to her ; then business 
called him away a little later at night, then 
his club, and now everything calls him away, 
and nothing can keep him home. Nightly she 
mourns over his absence, and daily pines over 
his coldness. Hourly she is making rapid 
strides towards the silent grave where she will 
ere long end all in forgetfulness. 
Next to him is the talented Mr. M-, 
who a short time ago was dismissed from a 
well known bank for carelessness. He possess¬ 
es a strong mind and an energetic character, 
but both, with him, have become slaves to ap¬ 
petite, and now he seeks for pleasure around the 
gaming table and in the poisonous cup. 
The next and last is Gerard K-, who 
was recently expelled from co'lege for being 
intoxicated, and while in that state having 
abused one of the Professors. His career was 
brilliant but short. His father was a tavern- 
keeper in Western New York, and had amass¬ 
ed a large property by selling liquor. It was 
at his father’s bar the son first learned to take 
his morning dram ; and now we see him a de¬ 
graded debauchee. 
Heard you that oath, calling down the ven¬ 
geance of an offended God, sufficient to have 
shocked the most hardened inhabitant of the 
infernal region? See you the glass going 
around, adding fire to that already kindled, 
burning out every finer feeling of their natures, 
and giving place to jealousy, suspicion and 
hatred ? Observe you how their manners 
grow infuriated, their conversation personal 
and severe? Saw you that one strike the 
other, and see you now the bleeding and bruis¬ 
ed face, and say that all is well ? 
Look into that fine house, with stone front, 
and see the gorgeous tapestry, the splendid 
furniture, the costly ornaments, and everything 
to please the eye, or comfort the body. Look 
at that library of beautiful books, sufficient to 
contain a world of knowledge, all richly gilded, 
but apparently unhandled. 
This is a “ whited sepulchre pleasing 
without, but the inside is full of vice, filthiness, 
corruption and rottenness. The inmates are 
now reeking in sin, in the lowest depths of de¬ 
gradation, a disgrace to humanity, and a shame 
to mankind, unlit.to live and unprepared to 
die. But how came they thus ? 
One, a too exacting parent sent here,—not 
directly,—but by a series of influences, each 
tending more and more to the accomplishment 
of the purpose. Perhaps a heart was at stake, 
and the father bartered it for gold, directly in 
opposition to the will of the possessor. Re¬ 
sistance was made, but force was called to the 
consummation of the ignoble purpose, and 
as there was no alternative but flight, that was 
determined upon, and ere long the unfortunate 
one was made the prey of some fiend of mor¬ 
tality. 
That one was brought to this state by pov¬ 
erty and real want. Starvation stared her in 
the face, turn which way she would. Yet she 
clung to life with such tenacity, that she sac¬ 
rificed happiness, health, virtue, character and 
all at the altar of self-gratification. Hope 
now has fled, joy has gone, and all the kinder 
feelings forever banished, leaving only a poor 
wreck of humanity. 
Another one w r as the victim of some heart¬ 
less deceiver, who enticed her from the good 
and happy, sunk her to the very lowest grade 
of humanity—excepting the class to which he 
belongs—and then left her to grovel in dark¬ 
ness, without a ray of hope, without a friend 
to lend a sustaining arm, or a person to whis¬ 
per a cheering word. While thus, her passions 
gained the mastery over reason, and she rush¬ 
ed madly, wildly on, heeding little and fearing 
nothing, living a constant death, until she drops 
unmourned, unwept, into a dishonored grave. 
Man, see you this, and say that all is well ? 
Look again, in yonder prison, and by the 
light of the pale moonbeams, you may see a 
haggard face which is the very picture of de¬ 
spair, with sunken eyes, uncombed hair, and 
an unearthly look. Scarce thirty years have 
passed over his head, although his appearance 
would indicate many more, and now we find 
him, in the prime of life, a convict, guilty of 
some crime for which he is doomed to spend 
the remainder of life a prisoner. That crime 
is murder. Ah, reader, start not, for, though 
it is true his wife died by violence from him 
who swore at the altar to love and protect her, 
though his own hand held the dagger that 
pierced her very heart, yet brand him not with 
the name of murderer. He is not a murderer. 
Before high heaven he stands acquitted of the 
fearful, horrid deed. It was not he that com¬ 
mitted the appalling act, but a spirit which for 
the time ruled him soul and body. That spirit 
was the demon Alcohol. 
The prisoner whom we see, was a young man 
of uncommon abilities. His greatest fault, if 
fault it may be termed, was his open-hearted¬ 
ness. Being honest and frank himself, he 
supposed everybody else to be—a supposition 
which time taught him was founded upon a 
wrong hypothesis. At the age of 22 he mar¬ 
ried a lady every way his equal, and the w r orld 
called it “ a good match,” and for once at least 
was right. Everything moved as if ordered 
for their especial benefit and comfort for three 
or four years. But he being of so trusting a 
nature, and possessing property, was made the 
victim of some unprincipled money-seeker.— 
He was gradually induced into the snare, and 
when he awoke to his position, he found himself 
inextricably fastened. Mad with frenzy and 
liquor when he discovered the loss of his prop¬ 
erty and character, he rushed from the house 
to his home, where his wife was awaiting his 
return. She met him with a smile, and in a 
playful manner commenced to chide him for 
his delay, but was hushed by the harsh tones 
of her husband. She looked at him with 
amazement for a moment, to see whether he 
was really in earnest. This only aggravated 
him, and he drew a dirk from his bosom and 
plunged it into her breast, and she fell a quiv¬ 
ering corpse. The alarm was immediately 
given by the servants, and he was secured, 
but not until he had given himself several se¬ 
vere wounds which were intended to put an 
end to his own existence. He was tried, found 
guilty, and sentenced to imprisonment for life, 
and we now see him dragging out his days, 
without comfort and without hope. 
Is this right ? Is all well ? 
Ah, man, those words fall sadly on his ears, 
and make his heart sink within him, as it does 
many others whose reason and experience 
teach them that all is not well. 
A KOMANCE OF MOEMONISM. 
Tiie following curious and striking extract 
of a private letter from a lady touches upon a 
point in the social relations of the Mormons 
of exceeding interest. No man or woman of 
right feelings and sentiments can peruse it 
without emotions of hatred toward the institu¬ 
tion of Polygamy and its abettors : 
“ You ask me to give a little more in detail 
the incident in the cars, that occurred as we 
were crossing the Alleghanies, of which I 
briefly spoke when we met. 1 could not half 
tell you the story now, after the vividness with 
which it impressed has so nearly passed away, 
and if I could, it would not produce the effect 
it did upon me. I heard it after weeks of 
anxiety had weakened my system, when my 
long and wearisome journey had left me but 
the strength of child, and my restless and exci¬ 
ted mind seized upon it in all its reality with¬ 
out the melioration always lent to a subject 
by our own indifference to, and personal dis¬ 
connection with it. A wrong done to another 
becomes an outrage when practiced upon our¬ 
selves. I had, through watching and fasting 
become so etherialized as to lose sight of this 
selfish difference and to see my neighbor as 
myself. I felt that all womankind had been 
insulted and sacrificed in the person of ‘ Mar¬ 
garet.’ It was my duty not less than hers to 
avenge it. I could have sent the aggressor 
tumbling into the gorge of one of those moun¬ 
tain torrents, and considered it but retributive 
justice. 
“ The Mormon elder came into our car near 
the foot of the mountains, and sat near us.— 
He would have been good-looking if he had 
looked good. He had a peculiar maimer—it 
indicated such perfect satisfaction with himself 
and the world. I heard him say he had gone 
to Salt Lake City before the first furrow had 
been turned in the ground. I listened, for who 
is not curious concerning that wonderful exo¬ 
dus ? I heard him tell of their great temple 
and how it went on stone by stone, and with 
each the powor of the devil grew less and less. 
How new proselytes came pouring in to swell 
the host that was waiting ‘ to receive the 
Christ when he should come to reign a thous¬ 
and years upon the earth.’ lie was a man of 
no reading. His knowledge was (like Mr. 
Gradgrind’s) confined to ‘ tacts,’ but he had a 
natural gift for conversation, and gave a rap¬ 
id and skillful outline of his subject in a way 
that interested you at once. W hen the night 
grew dark he came and sat behind us. He 
had fallen into the hands of a gentleman whose 
dexterity in questioning, led him on to speak 
freely of himself, and so gradually they came 
to the ‘ peculiar institution.’ He said the 
women seldom cared to marry men of their 
own age, that their affections inclined toward 
the priests and elders. This convinced me 
that if the men are all hypocrites, the women 
are not wholly so, but that they do this for 
the exaltation of their souls. My lawyer, (for 
so I shall call the questioner,) asked whether 
the women were not jealous of each other, es¬ 
pecially the younger ones. The Saint answer¬ 
ed, ‘No.’ ‘Some few,’ he continued, ‘ were 
a little difficult, but it was mostly confined to 
the young. To be sure his wife felt it when 
he married a second time, the rest had never 
cared.’ ‘ Di^she care so very much ?’ contin¬ 
ued the lawyer. ‘ Oh, yes ; I thought at first 
it would have killed lier. You see when I be¬ 
came a convert, I did not understand the part 
of it, because my wife and 1 had been so hap¬ 
py together. We married early, and had 
scarcely been a day apart. When I wanted 
to go to Salt Lake she did not incline to go, 
because she did not see so clearly as I the 
truths of our great religion—but the idea of 
my marrying was no hinderance. It did not 
occur to her as possible, and it was not for a 
long time after 1 got there that I thought of 
it myself.’ 
“ ‘ Margaret did not mix with the people.— 
She retained her old Eastern ways and was 
always at home. I never let her do much 
work (her hands were too small for that.)— 
She was stately in her form, and she had a 
queer way of twisting her long hair round her 
head so it looked like a crown. The folks said 
she was proud, and one or two who had daugh¬ 
ters asked me why I did not take a wife, and 
if I were not afraid ? So it came upon me 
gradually, while upon her, you see, it fell like 
a stroke.’ 
“‘ You must have found it difficult to break 
such a thing to her.’ 
“ ‘ Yes, it was hard to do. But at last I 
said I will do it on Thursday, and on Thurs¬ 
day evening when I came home she was stand¬ 
ing in the garden, and I went and put my 
arm around her, and told her how it had been 
revealed to me that I must marry again.’ 
“ * Wbat did she say ?’ 
“ ‘ Nothing. Not one word. She just gave 
one scream. I declare I shall never get that 
scream out of my ears. I believe 1 should 
hear it if I were on the Andes. I thought I 
heard it a minute ago.’ 
“ The sleet rattled against the windows of 
our car, and the bleak midnight wind swept 
down the mountains, and I thought I heard it 
too. 
“ The Mormon proceeded—‘ And then she 
fell like one dead. I thought she was dead, but 
she came to after a while, and, would you be¬ 
lieve it, she never mentioned the subject tome. 
1 could not find it in my heart to say a thing 
about it again for more than five months.— 
Meantime she had taken a cold, and did not 
get strong again. I saw she was wearing the 
thought of it about her like a mourning weed, 
and so, when she seemed a little better, I talk¬ 
ed to her about the great principle of our Faith, 
and how those to whom the spirit revealed it¬ 
self must follow its dictates, or be forever cast 
into Hell. And I told her she need not fear 
my affection for her would be divided, for I 
had had a vision, in which it was told me that 
I should love her forever, and that we should 
never die, but live together and seethe thousand 
years of Christ’s reign upon the earth, and be 
by him rewarded for our obedience and wil¬ 
lingness now to cast aside our selfish human 
will and sacrifice to him.’ 
“ ‘ Margaret was always a true believer. 
But I had always been wandering in search of 
a rock of Faith until I anchored here. I had 
heard from pulpit to pulpit, such conflicting 
doctrine, I could lay my hand on nothing that 
seemed secure, and I think she was unwilling 
to set me adrift again, and so she consented. 
My parting from her was a dreadful one, for 
she moaned and wept like one in despair, and 
-I was fool enough to cry too.’ 
“ ‘ I don’t wonder,’ said his interlocutor. ‘ It 
is hard wholly to subdue nature, even at the 
call of duty ;’ and he gave a low laugh. 
“ ‘ When I came back,’ continued the Mor¬ 
mon, ‘ it had been just so all the time. She 
had never eaten and never slept, but only walk¬ 
ed up and down, always, hour after hour.’ 
“ ‘ Well, how did she get used to it ?” 
“ ‘ She retained the house I had first built, 
of course. It was large, and we had no chil¬ 
dren, and she was very lonely, for I was neces¬ 
sarily much away from her. I went as often 
as I could, but 1 married in quick succession 
two others, and so we were much separated, 
and she fretted in my absence. At last it was 
this, or she saw the folly of resisting her fate ; 
she got quiet in her mind—used to it in fact. 
People do get used to anything, you know.— 
When the iron force of circumstances presses 
them on every side, and they do not know where 
or how to resist, they at least grow quiet. She 
took it into her head, after a while, that she 
would not live very long, ar.d she said it was 
not worth while to be separated so much the 
little time she was here, and if I pleased, the 
families might all come and live together. I 
told her she was sensible, and getting used to 
things. But she only said something to her¬ 
self about the collapsing sides of an iron 
shroud, pressing out her life. It sounded like 
poetry. She always had a way of picking up 
such odd things out of books.’ 
“ ‘ Did she get well ?’ 
“ ‘ No, not yet. Indeed her cough is rather 
worse, and she is more feeble, but she seems 
happy enough. She is very kind to every one, 
especially the two little children, and she will 
get better when the spring comes. 1 know 
slje will, because it has been revealed to me 
that she is to live and dwell with me a thou¬ 
sand years when Christ shall reign and judge 
I he world.’ ” 
A first rate class was undergoing a close 
examination in mental arithmetic, and in re¬ 
ply to a question concerning the number of 
men required to perforin a certain piece of 
work in a specified time, the class responded— 
“Twelve men and two-thirds!” But one 
bright fellow, more discerning than the others, 
instantly added :—“ Twelve men and a boy 
fourteen years old!" —fourteen being two-thirds 
of twenty-one, the legal age of manhood. 
—-—^ . . . . — 
Barnum offers a reward of five hundred dol¬ 
lars for the hen that “ laid a wager.” One 
hundred for the “ cat that was let out of the 
bag.” Two hundred for the cow that “ chew¬ 
ed the cud of sweet and bitter fancy.”— 
three hundred and sixty for the horse that 
lives solely on the “ wild oats ” sowed by 
“fast ” young men. 
Vegetables are so scarce at Sebastopol 
that a man with three potatoes in his pocket 
is such an “ object of interest,” that he will 
only dine with Lord Raglan. A fellow with 
three heads of cabbage has just opened a mu¬ 
seum at Balaklava—admission two shillings, 
six pence extra if you smell of the stalks. 
ALBANY AGRICULTURAL WORKS, 
On Hamilton, Liberty, and Union Streets, 
ALBANY, N. Y. 
Tire proprietors of the above named establishment be¬ 
ing the sole owners and manufacturers of the 
EMERY PATENT HORSE POWER, &c., 
All arrangements with other parties for their manufac¬ 
ture having expired, have formed a now copartnerahip 
under the firm name of 
EMERY BROTHERS, 
and will continue the manufacture and sale of Agricul¬ 
tural Implements and Machinery as horctoforo, at the old 
stands of EMERY h CO. By this arrangement the united 
efforts and interest of the brothers, long known to the 
public, are secured, and no exertions will ho spared to 
meat the wishes of those dealing in and using the class 
of implements we manufacture. The pul)lie may rest 
assured the reputation heretofore earned for our manu¬ 
factures shall be fully sustained, by using none hut the 
best material and workmanship ; and by a strict atten¬ 
tion to business, wo hope to merit and enjoy a continu¬ 
ance of the patronago heretofore so liberally bestowed, 
which we respectfully solicit. 
Full descriptive illustrated price catalogues sent gratis 
on application. EMERY BROTHERS. 
269—2teow Albany, N. Y. 
NEW CROP OF SEEDS. 
FOR THE SPRING OF 1855. 
The old and well known ROCHESTER SEED STORE, for 
tho last ten years managed by the subscriber, has been 
removed from 29 Buffalo street to 34 Exchange street, 
two doors above tho Clinton Hotel. 
Claiming to know, from experience, something of the 
value to tho grower, of good, fresh seeds, as woll as the 
necessity of having such kinds as will give the greatest 
and best return to labor, this branch of the Seed busi¬ 
ness has received special attention, and purchasers may 
rely on correctness. Our motto is “ novor knowingly to 
deceive a customer.” 
It is our intention to keop all the varieties of Seeds do- 
sirable to be grown in tho Northern States. 
I shall have tho I-arge Germau Clover, grown by the 
German Society of Farmers, in Erie County. I have sold 
this largo variety of CJover for several years, and it has 
never failed to give satisfaction. 
Eife’s or Scotch Spring Wheat, grown in Canada; may 
he sown as late as the middle of May. Good crops were 
grown from this variety last yoar in Monroe County. 
Flower Seeds, Bird Cages, Bird Seed, &c. 
269—6teow JAMES P. FOGG. 
SYRACUSE NURSERIES, SYRACUSE, N. Y. 
The Proprietors of these extensive Nurseries, with a 
roputation second to nono in tho United States, would re¬ 
turn their thanks for tho liberal and increasing patronage, 
heretofore received, and would now ofior to their cus¬ 
tomers and tho public generally, thoir very large and 
splendid stock of 
FRUIT AND ORNAMENTAL TREES, Ac. 
Consisting of 
Apples, Pears and Cherries, both Dwarf and Standards. 
Plums, Peaches, Gooseberries, Raspberries, Currants, <6c. 
Evergreen and Ornamental Trees and Shrubs, in line assort¬ 
ments. 
Roses in large quantities, including many new sorts; also, 
Dahlias, Phloxes, Dwarf Chrysanthemums, Carnations and 
l’icolers, Climbing Shrubs, Greenhouse and Redding out 
Plants, <C:c. 
They would particularly call attention to their fine 
stock of Standard Pears, which is tho largest and best 
in tho State. Also, 
250,000 Osage Orange Plants, of very superior growth for 
Hedges, very low by tho quantity. 
1,000 best Foreign Grape Vines, and year old, grown from 
hearing vines, at $20 per 100. 
Rhubard and Asparagus Roots, extra size, very low by 
the 100 or 1,000. 
Those Trees are taken up with tho greatest care and 
packed in tho very best mannor, at a moderate expense. 
All packages delivered at tho Railroad or Canal, free of 
charge. 
They will issuo a Supplement to their Ornamental and 
Green house Cataloge for spring, containing all tho new 
Dahlias, Verbenas, Phloxes, Dwarf Chrysanthemums, Gera¬ 
niums, Green house Plants, die., with a reduction on form¬ 
er prices, to which they call especial attention. 
Tho following Catalogues will ho sent gratis and pre¬ 
paid, to all applicants, who pre-pay thoir letter postago, 
and ouclose for No. 1, a letter stamp, and for the others, 
ono cent stamp each. 
No. 1, A full descriptive Catalogue of all their productions. 
No. 2, A new descriptive Catalogue of Fruits. 
No. 3, A descriptive Catalogue of Ornamental Trees, 
Shrubs, Roses, &c. 
No. 4, A descriptivo Catalogue of Dahlias, Groon-houso 
and Eedding out Plants 
No. 5, A wholesale Catalogue for Nurserymen, Vendors 
and Doalers. THORP, SMITH, IIANCHETT & CO. 
Syracuse, N. Y., Jan. 26, 1865. 265-4teow 
ATKIN’S SELF-RAKING REAPER & MOWER. 
Three seasons uso of this ingenious, beautiful, and yet 
simple Macqino, furnish convincing proof of practical 
worth. Three Hundred, scattered into nineteen different 
States tho past season, mostly in inexperienced hands, and 
nearly all giving good satisfaction, cutting from fifty to six 
hundred acres, proves it not only strong and servicablo, 
but also simple and easily managed. It saves not only 
tho hard work of raking, hut lays the grain in such good 
order as to save at least another hand in binding. 
It is warranted to be a good, durable, Sei,k-Raking 
Rearer, and 1 have also succeeded in attaching a mowing 
bar, so that I also warrant it as a Mower. 
Price, at Chicago, of Reapers, $170 ; of Mowing Bar, $.30. 
Discount on the Reaper, $15 ; and on Mowing Bar, $5, for 
cash in advance, or on delivery. Price of Mowor, $120. 
4®“ Pamphlets giving all the objections and difficulties, as 
well as commendations, sentfree,on post paid applications. 
AGENTS, suitably qualified, wanted in all sections wliero 
there are nono. [261-eow5m] J. S. WRIGHT, 
“ Prairie Farmer ” Warehouse, Chicago, Dec., 1864. 
BUFFALO AGRICULTURAL WAREHOUSE, 
AND SEED STORE. 
No. 198 Main St, _ BUFFALO. 
H. C. WHITE, 
wholesale and retail dealer in 
FARMING IMPLEMENTS, 
FIELD AND GARDEN SEEDS, 
TREES, PLANTS AND SHRUBS. 
ALSO AGENT FOR 
Boston Belting Co.’s Rubber Belting, Hose, &c. 
OSAGE ORANGE SEED. 
Ten bushels fresh seed just rocoived from Texas, which 
will bo furnished at seveuty-five cents per quart, with di¬ 
rections for cultivation. Orders may be addressed to 
H. C. WHITE, 
Buffalo Seod and Ag. Warehouse, 196 Main-st., Buff. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
IS PUBLISHED EVERT 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 ono year, for $5 ; 
Six Copies (and one to Agent or getter up of club,) for $10; 
Ten Copies (and one to Agent,) for $15, and any additional 
number, at tho same rate. As we are obliged to pre-pay 
the American postage on papers sent to tho British Prov¬ 
inces, our Canadian agents and friends must add 25 cents 
per copy to tho club rates of tho Rural. 
*** Tho postago on tho Rural is but 3j£ cents per quar¬ 
ter, payable in advance, to any part of the State (except 
Monroe County, wlioro it goes free,)—and 6>£ eonts to 
any othor section of tho United States. 
Advertising. — Brief and appropriate advertisements 
will ho inserted at $1,50 per square, (ton lines, or 108 
words,) or 15 cents per line— in advance. The circulation 
of the Rural New-Yorker is several thousand greater 
than that of any other Agricultural or similar journal in 
either America or Europe. Patont medicines, etc., will 
not be advertised in this paper on any terms. 
jjf^-All communications, and business letters, should 
be addressed to D. D. T. Moore, Rochester, N. Y. 
Tlie Wool Grower and Stock Register's the only 
American journal devoted to the 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 located East or West, North or South. Published 
monthly in octavo form, illustrated, at only Fifty Cents a 
Volume— two volumes a year. Volume 7 commences 
January, 1855. Specimen numbers sent 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 the Rural New-Yorker, and for the 
Wool Grower and Stock Register, in the counties of 
Chautauque and Cattaraugus, N Y., and Warren, Pa. 
