MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
FIRE REVELATIONS. 
BY CALKER CAMPBELL. 
As now within my winter’s fire I look, 
I seem to see, 
Pictures, and shspes that seem to gaze at me, 
Like midnight stars from some clear summer hrook 
O’er which no cloud its mist-lined flag hath shook. 
A palace or a prison starts before me, 
With battlements 
That frown austerely o’er besieging tents, 
>Mid which the shadow, Death, stalks red and stormy. 
Whirling his lightning-banner sternly o’er me. 
Faces beloved but passed away I see— 
The beautiful, 
Whose hearts with mine taught in the game fond 
school, 
Break in that strife which hath but shattered me, 
Whose harder nature braves grief’s agency. 
The beautiful, the dear, the true are there— 
The false likewise; 
The false and cruel with their cunning eyes, 
Or smiling with a presence insincere 
That but for burning flames would chill all near. 
I look on scenes, piled in the blazing grate, 
Of early days : 
My pastoral homo, whence first I sought the ways 
That lead from passionate love to passionate hate 
Through the entangling maze of man’s estate. 
The hills of Scotland the woods of Ind 
Gleam in the glow ; 
Struggles and strifes, the battle and the brow 
Laureled, but bloody, in the fire I find, 
With graves of loved ones ’mid grass-shaking wind ! 
Scent-eloquent flowers and inarticulate weeds 
Before me speak 
Pathetic sentences, that nearly break 
My heart with memories of such love as leads 
Downwards through death, where life to death succeeds ! 
Stir, stir the fire ! destroy the spectral strife 
That shows the Past; 
Give me the Now—nor let me look aghast 
On grieving graves with but the human lie— 
Onward the future shines, bright with immortal life I 
mans. 
OLD FATHER MORRIS. 
BY MRS. H. BEECHER STOWE. 
Of all the marvels that astonished my 
childhood, there is none that I remember to 
this day with so much interest as the old man 
whose name forms my caption. When I 
knew him he was an aged clergyman, settled 
over an obscure church in New England. He 
had enjoyed the advantages of a liberal edu¬ 
cation, had a strong, original power of 
thought, an omnipotent imagination, and 
much general information ; but so early and 
so deeply had the habits and associations of 
the plow, the farm and country life wrought 
themselves into his mind, that his after ac¬ 
quirements could only miDgle with them, 
forming an unexampled amalgam like unto 
nothing but itself. 
He was an ingrain New Englander, and 
whatever might have been the source of his 
information, it came out in Yankee form, 
with the strong provinciality of Yankee dia¬ 
lect. 
It is in vain to attempt to give a full pic¬ 
ture of such a genuine unique; but some slight 
and imperfect dashes may help the imagina¬ 
tion to a faint idea of what none can fully 
conceive but those who have seen and heard 
old Father Morris. 
Suppose yourself one of half-a dozen chil¬ 
dren, and you hear the cry, “ Father Morris 
is coming !” You run to the window or door 
and see a tall, bulky old man, with a pair of 
saddle-bags on one arm, hitching his old horse 
with a fumbling carefulness, and then delib¬ 
erately stumping towards the house. You 
notice his tranquil, florid, full-moon counte¬ 
nance, lightened by a pair of great, round blue 
eyes, that roll with dreamy inattentiveness on 
all the objects around; and as he takes off 
his hat, you see the white curling wig that 
sets off his round head. He comes towards 
you, and as you stand staring, with all the 
children around, he deliberately puts his great 
hand on your head, and with a deep voice in¬ 
quires— 
“ How d’ye do, my darter ? Is your daddy 
at home?” “ My darter ” usually makes off 
as fast as possible, in an unconquerable giggle. 
Father Morris goes into the house, and we 
watch him at every turn, as, with the most 
liberal simplicity, he makes himself at home, 
takes off his wig, wipes down his great face 
with a checked pocket handkerchief, helps 
himself hither and thither to whatever he 
wants, and asks for whatever he cannot lay 
his hands on, with all the comfortable ease of 
childhood. 
I remember to this day how we used to 
peep through the crack of the door, or hold 
it half ajar and peep in, to watch his mo¬ 
tions ; and how mightily diverted we were 
with his deep, slow manner of speaking, his 
heavy, cumbrous walk, but above all, with 
the wonderful faculty of “ hemming ” which 
he possessed. 
His deep, thundering, protracted “ A-hem- 
en,” was like nothing else that ever I heard ; 
and when once, as he was in the midst of one 
of these performances, the parlor door hap¬ 
pened to swing open suddenly, I heard one of 
my roguish brothers calling, in a suppressed 
tone, “ Charles ! Charles ! Father Morris 
has hemmed the door open!” — and then fol¬ 
lowed signs of a long and desperate titter, in 
which I sincerely sympathized. 
But the morrow is Sunday. The old man 
rises in the pulpit. He i3 now in hi3 own 
humble little parish, preaching simply to the 
hoers of corn and the planters of potatoes ; 
but here sits Gov. D., and there is Judge E. 
and Counsellor P., and Judge G. 
In short, he is before a refined and literary 
audience. But Father Morris rises; he 
thinks nothing of this ; he cares nothing ; he 
knows nothing, as he himself wou’d say, “ but 
Jesus Christ and him crucified.” He takes ft 
passage of scripture to explain ; perhaps it is : 
the walk to Emmaus and the conversation 
with his disciples. Immediately the whole 
would start out before you, living and pictur¬ 
esque; the road to Emmaus is a New Eng¬ 
land turnpike ; you can see its milestones, its 
mullen stalks, and its toll-gates. Next, the 
disciples rise, and you have- before you all 
their anguish, and hesitation, and dismay, 
talked out to you in the language of your 
own fireside. You smile, you are amused, 
yet you are touched, and the illusion grows 
every moment. You see the approaching 
stranger, and the mysterious conversation 
°tows more and more interesting. Emmaus 
rises in the distance, in the likeness of a New 
England village, with a white meeting-house 
and spire. You follow the travelers; you 
enter the house with them ; nor do you wake 
from your trance until with streaming eyes 
the preacher tells you that “ they saw it was 
the Lord Jesus — and what a pity they could 
not have known it before !” 
It was after a sermon on this very chapter 
of scripture history that Gov. Griswold, in 
passing out ot the house, laid ho.d on the 
sleeve of his first acquaintance; “Pray tell 
me ” said he, “ who is this minister ?” 
“ Why, it is old Father Morris.” _ 
“ Well,' he is an oddity and a genius too, I 
declare,” ' he continued. “ I have been won¬ 
dering all the morning how I could have read 
the Bible to so little purpose as not to see all 
these particulars he has presentee. 
I once heard him narrate, in this pictur¬ 
esque way the story of Lazarus. The great 
bustling city of Jerusalem first rises to view, 
and you are told, with great simplicity, how 
the Lord Jesus “ used to get tired of the 
noise ;” and how he was “ tired of preaching 
again’ and again to a people who would not 
mind a word he said ;” and how “ when it 
came evening, he used to go out and see his 
friends in Bethany.” Then he told about the 
house of Mary and Martha; “ a little white 
house among the trees,” he said, “ you could 
just see it from Jerusalem.” And there the 
Lord Jesus and his disciples used to go, and 
sit evenings with Mary, Martha and Lazarus. 
Tiien the narrator went cn to tell how Laz¬ 
arus died, describing with tears and a choking 
voice, the distress they were in, and how they 
sent a message to the Lord Jesus, and he did 
not come, and how they wondered and won¬ 
dered ; and thus he went on, winding up 
the interest with the graphic minutice of an 
eye-witness, till he woke you from the dream 
by his triumphant joy at the resurrection 
scene. 
On another occasion, as he was sitting at a 
tea-table, unusually supplied with cakes and 
sweet meats, he found an opportunity to make 
a practical allusion to the same family story. 
He said that Mary was quiet and humble, sit¬ 
ting at her Savior’s feet to hear his words ; 
but" Martha thought more of what was to be 
got for tea. Martha could not find time to 
listen to Christ. No ; she was “ cumbered 
with much terving”—around the house frying 
fritters and making ginger-bread. 
Among his own simple people his style of 
scripture painting was listened to with breath¬ 
less interest. But it was particularly in those 
rustic circles, called “conference meetings,” 
that his whole warm soul unfolded, and the 
Bible in his hands became a gallery of New 
England paintings. 
He particularly loved the Evangelists, fol¬ 
lowing the footsteps of Christ, dwelling upon 
his words, repeating over and again the stories 
of what he did, with all the fond veneration of 
an old and favored servant. 
Sometimes, too, he would give the narrative 
an exceedingly practical turn, as one example 
will illustrate. 
He had noticed a falling off in his little 
circle that met for social prayer, and took oc¬ 
casion, the first time he collected a tolerable 
audience, to tell concerning the “ conference 
meeting that the disciples attended after the 
resurrection.” 
“ But Thomas was not with them. Thom¬ 
as was not with them,” said the old man, in a 
sorrowful voice. Why, what could keep 
Thomas away ? Perhaps,” said he, glancing 
at some of his backward auditors, “ Thomas 
had got cold-hearted, and was afraid they 
would ask him to make the first prayer, or 
perhaps,” said he, looking at some of the 
farmers, “ Thomas was afraid the roads were 
bad ; or perhaps,” he added, after a pause, 
“Thomas had got proud, and thought he 
could not come in his old clothes.” Thus he 
went on, significantly summing up the com¬ 
mon excuses of his people; and then, with 
great simplicity and emotion, he added, but 
only think what Thomas lost ? for in the mid¬ 
dle of the meeting, the Lord Jesus came and 
stood among them ! How sorry Thomas 
must have been!” This representation served 
to fill the vacant seats for some time to come. 
At another time Father Morris gave the 
details of the anointing of David to be King. 
He told them how Samuel went to Bethlehem, 
to Jesse’s house, and went in with a “ How 
d’ye do, Jesse ?” and how, when Jesse asked 
him to take a chair, he said he could not stay 
a minute; that the Lord had sent him to 
anoint one of his sons for a King; and how, 
when Jesse called in the tallest and handsom¬ 
est, Samuel said ‘ he would not do,’ and how 
all the rest passed the same test; and at last 
how Samuel says, “ Why, have not you any 
more sons, Jesse ?” and Jesse says, “ why, yes, 
there is little David down in the lot;” and 
how, as soon as ever Samuel saw David, “ he 
slashed the oil right on to him ;” and how 
Jesse said, “ he never was so beat in all his 
life.” 
Father Morris sometimes used his illustra¬ 
tive talent to very good purpose, in the way 
of rebuke. He had on his farm a fine orchard 
of peaches, from which some of the ten or 
twelve-year-old gentlemen helped themselves 
more liberally than even the old man’s kind¬ 
ness thought expedient. 
Accordingly, he took occasion to introduce 
into his sermon one Sunday, in his little par¬ 
ish an account of a journey he took ; and how i 
he was “ very warm and very dry ; and how 
he saw a very fine orchard of peaches that 
made his mouth water to look at them. Sp,” 
says he, “I came up to the fence, and looking 
all around, for I would not have touched one 
of ihem without leave for all the world, at 
last I spied a man, and says I, ‘ Mister, won’t 
you give me some of your peaches?’ So the 
man came, and gave nigh about a hat full.— 
And while I stood there eating, I said, ‘ Mis¬ 
ter, how do you manage to keep your peach¬ 
es ?’ ‘ Keep them!’ said he, and he stared at 
me; ‘what do you mean?’ ‘Yes,’ said I, 
‘don’t the boys steal them?’ ‘Boys steal 
them,’said he. ‘No, indeed!’ ‘ Why, sir,’ 
said I, ‘ I have a lot full of peaches, and I 
cannot get half of them”—here the old man’s 
voice grew tremulous—“ because the boys in 
my parish steal them so.’ ‘ Why, sir,’ said he, 
‘ don’t their parents teach them not to steal ?’ 
And I grew all over in a cold sweat, and 1 
told him ‘ I was afeard they didn’t.’ ‘ Why, 
how you talk!’ said the man ; ‘ do tell me 
where you live?’ Then,” said Father Mor¬ 
ris, the tears running over, “ I was obliged to 
tell him I lived in the town of G.” After 
this Father At orris kept his peaches. 
Our old friend was not less original in the 
logical than in the illustrative portions of his 
discourses. His logic was of that familiar, 
colloquial kind which shakes hands with com 
mon sense like an old friend. Sometimes too 
his great mind and his great heart would be 
poured out iu the vast themes of religion, in 
language which, though homely, produced all 
the effects of the sublime. He once preached 
a discourse cn the text, “ the High and Holy 
one that inhabiteth eternity ;” and from the 
beginning to the end it was a train of lofty 
and solemn thought. When in his usual sim¬ 
ple earnestness, and his great rolling voice, he 
told about “ the Great God—the Great Jeho- 
vah—and how the people in tbs world were 
flustering and worrying and afraid they should 
not get time to do this, and that, and t’other. 
But,” he added with a full hearted satisfac¬ 
tion, “ the Lord is never in a hurry; he has 
it all to do, but he has time enough, for he 
inhabiteth eternity.” And the grand idea of 
infinite leisure and almighty resources was 
carried through the sermon with equal strength 
and simplicity. Although the old man never 
seemed to he sensible of anything tending to 
the ludicrous in hi3 mode of expressing him¬ 
self, yet he had a considerable relish for hu¬ 
mor, and some shrewdness at repartee. One 
time as he was walking through a neigh¬ 
boring parish, famous for its profanity, he was 
stopped by a whole flock of the youthful 
reprobates of the place : 
“ Father Morris, Father Morris! the devil's 
dead!” 
«Is he ?” said the old man, benignly laying 
his hand on the head of the nearest urchin : 
“ you poor fatherless children I” 
But, the sayings aud doings of this good 
old man, as reported in the legends of tb.8 
neighborhood, are more than can be g thered 
or reported. He lived far beyond the com¬ 
mon age of man, and continued, when age 
had impaired his powers, to tell over and over 
again the same Bible stories that he had told 
so often before. 
I recollect hearing of the joy that almost 
broke the old man’s heart when, after many 
years’ diligent watching and nurture of the 
good seed in his parish, it began to spring in¬ 
to vegetation, sudden and beautiful as that 
which answers the patient watchiBg of the 
husbandman. MaDy a hard, worldly-hearted 
man—many a sleepy, inattentive hearer— 
many a listless, idle youDg person, began to 
give ears to words that had long fallen un¬ 
heeded. A neighboring minister, who had 
been sent for to see and rejoice in these results, 
describes the scene, when on entering the lit¬ 
tle church, he found an anxious, crowded au¬ 
ditory assembled around their venerable teach¬ 
er, waiting for direction and instruction.— 
The old man was sitting in his pulpit, almost 
choking with fulness of emotion as he gazed 
around. “ Father,” said the youthful minis¬ 
ter, “ I suppose you are ready to say with old 
Simeon, ‘ Now, Lord, lettest thou thy servant 
depart in peace, for my eyes have seen thy 
salvation.’ “ Sartin, sartin," said the old 
man, while the tears streamed down his 
cheeks, and his whole frame shook with emo¬ 
tion. 
It was not many years after that this sim¬ 
ple and loving servant of Christ was gather¬ 
ed in peace unto him whom he loved. His 
name is fast passing from remembrance, and 
in a few years his memory, like his humble 
grave, will be entirely grown over and forgot¬ 
ten among men, though it will be had in ev¬ 
erlasting remembrance by Him who “ forget- 
teth not his servants,” and in whose sight the 
death of his servant is precious. 
KISSING JN A TUNNEL. 
Dick Tinto, the Paris correspondent ef the 
New York Times, tells the following story of 
Horace Yernet, the eminent French painter : 
The artist was comiDg from Versailles to 
Paris in the cars. In the same compartment 
with him were two ladies whom he had never 
seen before, but who were evidently acquaint¬ 
ed with him. They examined him very mi¬ 
nutely, and commented upon him quite freely 
—upon his martial bearing, his hale old age, 
his military pantaloons, etc., etc. 
The painter was annoyed, and determined 
to put an end to the persecution. As the 
train passed under the tunnel of St. Cloud, 
the three travelers were wrapped in complete 
darkness. Yernet raised the back of his hand 
to his mouth, and kissed it twice violently.— 
On emerging from the obscurity he found that 
the ladies had withdrawn their attention from 
him, and were accusing each other of having 
been kissed bv a man in the dark ! 
Presently they arrived at Paris ; and Yer¬ 
net, on leaving them, said, 
“ Ladies, I shall be puzzled all my life by 
the inquiry, ‘ Which of these two ladie3 was 
it that kissed me?’” 
-- < m ^ 
Conversation should be pleasant without 
scurrility, witty without affectation, learned 
without pedantry, and novel without false¬ 
hood. 
TAKE CARE OF YOUR TRENCH. 
One of the most ludicrous of all conversa¬ 
tions took place not long since at Paris. The 
parties were a Yankee who had studied 
French cn the ship as he came over, and the 
gar con of a hotel. The new comer was hun¬ 
gry, and had watched anxiously the movements 
of the gar con, who was putting things to 
rights in his room, but the phrase for getting 
dinner wouldn’t come to bis memory. He 
had seen in his Olleudorf that J’ai faim (I am 
hungry) were the magic words to be used for 
that purpose. At last he thought he had 
them. 
“Garco?i,” said he, beckoning with his fore¬ 
finger. The garcon approached. “ Garcon, 
j at une femme.” (1 have a wife.) “Eh 
bien! Monsieur,” answered the boy, “ I hope 
that Madam is quite well.” The Yankee 
mistaking this for a promise to serve up, 
waited awhile, but seeing that the boy did not 
take any step to fulfill, concluded to try again. 
“Garcon,” said he, beckoning as before, “ Je 
suis fameaux.” (lam famous.) The garcon 
answered with a low bow, “All Englishmen, 
Monsieur, are covered with glory,” and went 
on with his work. The second open sesame 
had failed. The Yankee grew desperate. At 
last ho was sure of being right. “Garcon, je 
suis une femme.” (I am a woman.) This 
made the garcon open his eyes. But guessing 
in a moment what was wanted, “Ah, Mon¬ 
sieur wants to say J’ai faim.” “ Yes, that’s 
it,” cried the relieved Yankee, who now tells 
the thing as a good joke on himself. 
Motto for the Trumpet — “Well, I’m 
bio wed.” 
Motto for the Drum—“ I confess I’m fairly 
beaten.” 
Motto for the Piano-forte—“ You can have 
as many of my notes as you require.” 
Motto for the Morning Sun—“ I must have 
my dew.” 
Motto for an Easel — “ You may draw on 
me to any extent.” 
Practical Wit. —A young gentleman, 
celebrated for his wit at college, was asked by 
his father for a specimen of his talents, while 
entertaining a party of friends at vacation. 
The scholar knelt before the hearth and roar¬ 
ed lustily twice, to the great surprise of the 
old squire, who asked him what he meant by 
that. “Why, sir,” replied the son, “seeing 
the fire so low, I thought it might be better 
for a pair of bellows.” 
As Sure as a Gun. —There used to be a 
doubt as to the value of guns when brought 
into operation against walls ; but recent 
events at Sweaborg have proved that the 
English mortar is more than a match for any 
quantity of Russian bricks. 
A Wonderful Woman. —A female school¬ 
teacher in her advertisement stated that she 
was “ complete mistress of her own tongue.” 
“ If that’s the case,” said a caustic old bach¬ 
elor, “ she can’t ask too much for her services.” 
Mr. Gout says people should never eat to 
excess. If properly cooked, a quarter of lamb 
and a bunch of asparagus are as mueh as any 
person with sedentary habits should desire, 
even for a late dinner. 
In private, place a watch upon your 
thoughts. In a crowd, place your thoughts 
upon your watch. By not doing this, Smith 
lost a chronometer the other day, while pres¬ 
ent at a circus at Manayunk. 
How to Cut an Acquaintance. —If he is 
poor, lend him some money ; if he is rich, ask 
him to lend you some. Both means are cer¬ 
tain. 
fjdbeHigetneqfg. 
tree seeds wanted. 
Horse Cuesnuts, Plum Pitts. Quince Seeds, &c. 
302 S. MOULSON, 36 Fron t Street. 
ISABELLA GRAPE VINES. 
Tire Subscriber has a large quantity, cultivated from 
his bearing vines, suitable tor planting now vineyards, 
at from $10 to $15 per hundrod. No charge for packing. 
E. A. McKAY. 
Naples, Ontario Co., N. Y., 1855. 304-2t 
WALWORTH NURSERY. 
10,000 l’each Trees, one year old, large and stocky. 
20,000 Dwarf Pear Trees, 2 years old. 
30,000 <lo. do. do., 1 year old. 
Also, an extensive supply of Apple, Chorry and other 
fruit trees. 
50,000 Apple Seedlings, 2 years old. 
Large size Horse Chestnut and Mountain Ash. 
All of which will be sold on the best of term. 
Walworth, Oct. 1,1855. 304-2t. T. G. YEOMANS. 
JUST PUBLISH ED, 
By ALDEN & BEARDSLEY, Auburn and Rochester, N. Y. 
THE GREAT ROMANCE ! 
A Book for the Times and Age we Live in. 
10,000 Copies Ordered in Advance ! 
LUCY BOSTON, 
Or, Woman’s Rights and Spiritualism! 
Illustrating the Follies and Delusions of tho Ninoteontli 
Century—By Fred Folio. 
“This is the Age of Oddities Let Loose’’—Price $1,25. 
A beautiful 12 mo. Vol., 406 pp., with ten Illustrations 
by Coffin. For sale by all Booksellers. Nov. 1, ’55. 
ASIATIC FOWLS. 
For Saul—B rahmas and Pheasant colored Chittagongs. 
Price of Brahma hens, $1 each; of Chittagong hens, one 
and two years old, one to two dollars. Of chickens of 
both varieties, three to five months old, $1 the pair.— 
For 10 chickens in ono cage, (of either variety,) $4. 
The Chittagongs aro direct from imported stock — 
a large breed, of fine form, beautiful plumage, and tho 
best layers. 0. ELY, 69 Fitzhugh st., 
302-3t Rochester, N. Y. 
ICHABOE GUANO. 
Jdst received by the brig Wave-Spirit, direct from the 
Ichaboo Islands, a cargo of this Superior Guauo (which 
is the first cargo arrived since that brought by tho ship 
Shakspoare, in 1845.) This Guano is now landed In ex¬ 
cellent order, will bo sold in lots to suit purchasers.— 
Samples and Analysis will be sent by addressing the 
Agent. As tho quantity is small, oarly application will 
bo necessary. Farmers who cannot remove what they 
desire, may have it remain on storage until April ltd, 
• at 18% cts. per ton, per month, which includes insur¬ 
ance. Price $40 per ton of 2,000 lfcs. 
A. LONGETT, Agent, 
S04-4t 34 Cliff St., Corner of Fulton, N. Y. 
SCRIBNERS’ TABLE BOOKS. 
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Corning, N. Y.,0ct. 15, 1855. 302 4t 
A BOOK F OR -B OTH SEXES. 
THE PHYSIOLOGY OP MARRIAGE. 
By a Married Man, and Distinguished Physician. 
It is ono of the most remarkable hooks which has been 
published in any country. In language simple, decorous, 
and respectful, and in terms of fatherly kindness, it ro- 
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as unexceptionable as any work which has appeared in 
tho English languago. it breathes, moreover, a truly 
Christian spirit. 
THE FOLIOWING BRIEFLY ARE ITS CONTENTS: 
Chapter 1. The True Rela- I Chapter 8. A Fundamen- 
tion ef the Sexes. 
Chapter 2. Premature Mar¬ 
riage and its Consequen¬ 
ces. 
Chapter 3. Errors of Edu¬ 
cation. 
Chapter 4. Errors of Court¬ 
ship. 
Chap. 5. Individual Trans- 
tal Error. 
Chapter 9. The Laws of 
Pregnancy. 
Chapter 10. Crime Without 
a Name. 
Chapter 11. The Laws of 
Lactation. 
Chapter 12. A Crimo that 
ought not to bo Named. 
gression, and its Penal- Chapter 13. Directions to 
ties. Parents and Guardians. 
Chapter 6. Social Errors Chapter 14. General Direc- 
and their Punishment. tions. 
Chapter 7. Physical Laws 
of Marriage. 
JUST PUBLISHED BY 
JOHN P. JEWETT & C'o., Boston. 
JEWETT, PROCTOR & WORTHINGTON, 
302 4t Cleveland, Ohio. 
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(if you live west of Buffalo,) address HENRY HOWE, 
No. Ill Main-st., Cincinnati ; if you live east of Buffalo, 
HENRY HOWE, No. 102 Nassau-st., (up stairs,) New 
York. _ __ 300-8t 
NEW ROCHELLE OR LAV/TON BLACKBERRY. 
The Subscribers having dovoted much attention to the 
cultivation of this new species of Blackberry for anum- 
ber of years, have now tho largest area of ground in 
cultivation of any in the country. Their Nursery, 
while in bearing, has been visited by thousands of per¬ 
sons from all parts of the States, and by all pronounced 
to be the “ne plus ultra.” 
Orders will he filled from our Grounds with great 
pleasure, at the following prices : One half-dozen. $2,50 ; 
One dozen, $5 ; Fifty, $12,50, and One Hundred, $25. 
GEO. SEYMOUR & Co. 
South Norwalk, Conn., Sept. 25, 1855, 3C0-6t 
FOR SALE, 
A Splendid Farm, in a fine location, situated in tho 
pleasant village of Stafford, Genesee Co., N. Y., in sight 
of two Railroad Dopots, (wheat markets.) consisting of 
about 208 acres of first class wheat , land, with a good 
Cottage House, Shrubbery and Flower Garden, making 
It a very desirable residence, with all necessary Barns 
and Outbuildings. It is known as one of the very 
choicest Farms in the county for production and situa¬ 
tion, and is offered at a bargain, the owner wishing to 
retire from business. All information can bo had of 
the subscriber on the premises. RIC1LVRD BABBAGE. 
Stafford, Gen. Co., N. Y., Oct., 1855. 301-13t 
ANDRE LEROY’S NURSERIES, 
AT ANGERS, FRANCE. 
The undersigned begs leavo to inform his numerous 
friends and customers that he is now ready to oxocute 
all orders for Fruit, Forest and Ornamental Trees, Ever¬ 
green Shrubs, Stocks, etc. His collection is particularly 
tine this year for all kinds of trees, etc., except Qtiinco 
stocks, tho crop of which has again failod. Tho Cata¬ 
logue for 1855 is roady for distribution, and all thoso 
who wish to got a copy can obtain one free of charge by 
addressing our agent in New York, Mr. F. A. Bruguierk, 
138 Pearl-st., successors to our former agent and friend, 
Mr. Ed. Bossange, who has retired from business. Or¬ 
ders should be sent at once to secure a complete assort¬ 
ment. All required information to import trees, otc., 
will be found on the first page of our Catalogue, 
ANDRE LEROY, Angers. 
F. A. BRUGU1ERE, Sole Agent, 
298-13 138 Pearl St., New York. 
KEDZIE’S RAIN WATER FILTER. 
S Manufactured by J. E. CHENEY & Co., 
Rochester, N. Y. Patented January, ’64. 
These Filters have received the high¬ 
est commendation from scientific and 
medical men,and are in constant use,hav¬ 
ing given entire satisfaction to hundreds 
of families! n this city and other parts of 
the country within the last fifteen years. 
[They have been perfected iu the fixtures 
within two years, and can now be trans¬ 
ported in safety.] Wo now make five 
sizes, which retail for live, six, eight, ten, and twelve 
dollars each. 
The most impure rain water is rendered pure, without 
taste, color or smell. They are portable, durable, and 
are not excelled by any filter known. 274-eowtf 
THE NEW YORK CHRONICLE, 
A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE, 
s Published Wookly, by 
Church & Backus, 
Corner of Centre and White Streets, New \ r ork. 
Terms.— Ttco Dollars a year, in advance. 
This paper is loss local in its character and more wide¬ 
ly circulated than any other of the kind. 
It is dovoted to no personal, soetional, or party inter¬ 
ests iu particular, but to the interests of all porsons, 
sections, and partio3 in general, preaching peace by 
Jesus Christ. 
It acknowledges the right of ovory person, great or 
small, rich or poor, oducutod or ignorant, to think and 
speak and act for himself, oven though ho may not think 
and speak and act with the Editors. 
Its rosources from which to enrich its columns aro un¬ 
equaled. It furnishes a variety for family reading equal 
to any other. Its articles on tho money market are from 
tho highest and most reliable source. While it furnishes 
weekly three columns of reading matter from those who 
aro engaged in revising the Scriptures, such as can bo 
found iu no other paper in tho world, and such as no 
pastor or intelligent Christian should bo without. 
Please forward money and name, and oblige 
New York, 1866. [293] CHURCH & BACKUS. 
