MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
WROUGHT INTO GOLD. 
BY M. A. DENISON. 
I saw a smile—to a poor man ’twas given, 
And he was old ; 
The sun broke forth ; I saw the smile in Heaven 
Wrought into gold. 
Gold of such lustre never was vouchsafed to us ; 
It made the very light of day more luminous. 
I saw a toiling woman, sinking down, 
Foot-sore and cold; 
A soft band covered her ; the humble gow n 
Wrought into gold, 
Grew straight imperishable ; and it will bo shown 
To smiling angels gathered round the judgment throne. 
I saw a grieving babe, and motherless j 
It found a fold 
With a poor widow ; how her sweet caress, 
Wrought into gold. 
Made her face glisten, and her eyes grow bright with 
feeling; 
The inner light God gives His chosen saints revealing. 
Wrought into gold ; we that pass down life’s hours 
So carelessly, 
Might make the dusty way a path of flowers, 
If we would try ; 
Then every gentle deed we’ve done, or kind word given, 
Wrought into gold would make us wondrous rich in 
Heaven. 
? s %tmu. 
THE CASEMENT. 
A SKETCH BY MEISTEB KARL 
“ I sat over against a window where there 
stood a pot with very pretty flowers, and I 
had my eyes fixed on it, when on a sudden the 
window opened, and a young lady appeared 
whose beauty struck one.” —Arabian Nights 
Entertainment. 
“ I dinks you likes dis room ,” said mine host 
Jeris Van Boompjes, landlord of the “ Gold¬ 
en Rose,” in the antique city of Bruges. “I 
tinks you likes dis room /” he repeated with a 
solemnity and emphasis amounting almost to 
propbeey. 
This was asserted as he showed me to an 
apartment of very humble pretensions, and 
by no means equal to several which we had 
already pass' d. I would have remonstrated, 
but Mynheer Van Boompjes had already 
turned to depart. Without deigning to listen 
to my complaints, he gazed fixedly on me, 
shut his eyes, shook his head, and once more 
repeated in the tone of an grade : 
“ I know you like dis room!” 
In truth it was old, quaint and brown 
enough to have pleased the’ most enthusiastic 
lover of “ Flemish Interiors,” and its furni¬ 
ture would, I suppose, have brought a high 
price at a curiosity shop. But as my own 
particular fancy is for light, airy rooms, 
French beds, and chairs and tables of the 
latest mode, it presented no attraction to me. 
A cup ef fragrant coffee, and a few glasses 
of excellent wine, drawn from the stores of 
my attentive host, soon put one in a better 
humor. The room, though dark, was clean, 
and the bed was a model. Having carefully 
examined all within, I presently turned my 
glances without. 
Opposite to my window, on the other &ide 
of a very narrow lane, was one of those large, 
antique casements, in which a tall man might 
have stood on tolerably high stilts without 
the slightest fear of “ bumping” head or hat. 
The door like sash was closed, bat I could'de¬ 
tect within a wealth of window drapery and 
furniture of aristocratic elegance. Books, 
musical instruments, flowers, and other ob¬ 
jects of taste, indicated a lady occupant, and 
as this thought crossed my mind, I blessed the 
obscurity of my own room, which qualified it 
so admirably lor a look-out. 
1 had copjectured rightly. For, as I gazed, 
there came to the casement a young lady of 
remarkable beauty. An itinerant musician 
in the lane below had attracted her attention. 
With a touch she opened the great sash and 
looked out.- The summer breeze waved the 
curtain in airy confusion, but she held its folds 
with one very pretty hand, while she support¬ 
ed her graceful form on the other. It was a 
picture worthy the pencil of Newton, Etty, cr 
any other limner of “ Window Beauty.” 
“ I dinks,” said I to myself very slowly, and 
recalling the solemn tones of my landlord, “I 
dinks I likes dis room.” 
“ Twang, wang, twing ! ” went the guitar 
of a street minstrel. I “ laid low” and listr 
ened, looking meanwhile at my young neigh¬ 
bor. The song was an old French ballad, 
chanted to a plaintive air, by an excellent 
voice. 
“ Farewell, farewell, mine own heart dear, 
No more can I delay, 
For I must wander far from here, 
All o’er the heath away. 
Far over the heal her, far over the sand, 
With sorrowful heart I rove, 
And well may I come to my father.-lhnd, 
But not to my own true love ! 
Yet flowers are blooming everywhere, 
While trees are green in Spring, 
And the nightingale to-morrow there, 
To other birds will sing. 
And you will sing over heath and strand, 
Like the wild bird on the tree, 
And others will hear in your father-land, 
The vows you have sworn to me. 
Though I hear all the day the wood-bird’s song, 
When over the world I rove, 
Yet I never will cease my whole life long, 
To think of my own dear love 1” 
“ Vaerwel, vaerwel, mijn soeie lief! ” The 
air cf that old Flemish ballad rung in my ears 
like a charm, for it had summoned to my vis¬ 
ion a beautiful form, which departed with the 
music. The lady had evidently listened to the 
ballad, such as it was, with pleasure—and a 
brilliant thought came into my naind. I 
rushed down into the street and overtook the 
singer. He wa3 an intelligent-looking young 
man. 
“ You have a good voice.” said 1. 
“ I have been in more than one opera cho¬ 
rus,” he replied ; “ but it didn’t pay.” 
“ I want yon to come and sing twice a day 
in the place where you just now sung ‘ vaer¬ 
wel, vaerwel.' ” 
“ That will be a guilder a day,” he an¬ 
swered. 
“ There is a guilder for to day,” I replied ; 
“ if you keep quiet and say nothing you shall 
be well paid.” 
A knowing glance intimated that the singer 
was discreet. .1 told him to come early in the 
morning and at night. 
For several days the music worked like a 
charm. But the regularity_of this arrange¬ 
ment began to attract attention. It was ob¬ 
served that, paid or unpaid, the minstrel al¬ 
ways appeared at the same hour, and sang 
precisely three songs. Yrouw Yan Boompjes 
declared that the young man was crazy ; 
while Mynheer Jorris, her husband, who had 
no music in his soul, swore at the “ cureed 
noise,” and finally threatened Jost Spieler (my 
troubadour) with tbe police. I witnessed the 
altercation from my window, end finally saw, 
from a confidential whispering between the 
pair, that the perfidious Jost, was betraying 
my secret to the jolly host. The consequences 
had well nigh proved fatal, for the fat land¬ 
lord fell on i a bench in an agony of laughter, 
which nothing but the sight of his wife re¬ 
lieved. 
Meanwhile my beautiful neighbor stood at 
the window, apparently aw r aitirg with impa¬ 
tience the second song. But Herr Joris had 
invited Jost to a quiet glass of wine, and 
when the latter reappeared it was to chant in 
a bacchanalian voice a free-and-easy ballad of 
a certain “ miller’s wife,” which caused an an¬ 
gry blush to mount to my fair neighbor's 
cheek, aDd closed the sash with a suddenness 
which went like a blow to my heart. 
“ Very well, Master Jest,” thought I, ‘This 
is the way you serenade!” There was a book 
on the table, and in my rage I caught it up 
and dropped it' on his bare head as he sung 
beneath the window. But it rebounded from 
his Dutch poll without producing any effect 
beyond a wink at me, and an approving nod 
at what he seemed to consider a playful and 
excellent joke. In despair I closed my win¬ 
dow and flung myself on the bed. For the 
first time I fairly realized that I was in love 
—desperately so. And with whom ? 
With a very pretty Flemish lady, 
Who was well dressed, 
Who had love for music, 
And who lived in a good house. 
This was not much, but it was reason 
enough. I resolved on more decisive meas¬ 
ures. 
As I descended to dinner I encountered my 
worthy host. His face, which was usually 
genial, now seemed absolutely radiant and 
glorified with suppressed fun. His eyes danced 
with preternatural brilliancy as, laying his 
mighty hand on my shoulder, he whispered, 
with a stupendous wink, 
“ I dinlcs you like dal room / ” 
My little' secret was discovered. With a 
confidential air, I murmured— 
“ Fact.” He continued. 
“ You bin six days in de room, and ter sing 
man comes twice a tay. Dat makes twelf 
dimes .you sees de youDg lady at half a kilder 
a sight.” 
There was no denying the soft impeach¬ 
ment. He continued: 
“ The young lady is Gertrude de Vliet.” 
“ Re Vliet! ” said I; “ why, 1 have letters 
of introduction to her father.” 
“ Den you had petter go and get a sights 
for nothing. Ya—Gertrude is a nice girl, 
she hash much virtue, for she hash got gelt, 
and her grandfather was Syndious, and her 
aunt’s husband is a Countess.” 
To shorten my story, let me say that I call¬ 
ed on Mynheer de Yliet, and not only supped 
with the family, but struck up quite an inti¬ 
macy with Gertrude. I had strolled with her 
during the evening into the very music room 
which faced my own chamber, when a young¬ 
er sister—a beautiful child of twelve years— 
came bounding in. 
“ Oh, sister Gertrude, I’ve just heard such 
an odd story from our housemaid. She says 
that the landlady of the G olden Rose has told 
her that the young man who sung so beauti¬ 
ful every day was sent here by a gentleman 
who was dying of love, and of course it must 
have been for you, you know.” 
“ Go, child—go,” said Gertrude, evidently 
mneh confused. “ It is true,” she added to 
me taively, and as if in explanation, “ that 
some stranger has had the kindness to send 
daily a very excellent singer under my win¬ 
dow, and what makes it more singular, the 
man sings only my favorite ballads. How 
any one out of our family circle could Lave 
had an opportunity to thus study my taste, 
astonishes me.” 
Mystery is always attractive to a lady, 
particularly in love matters. It was evident 
that I had, in advance, eut myself out. 
“ Do you sing ?” I inquired as we paused 
before the harp. 
“ A little,” was the answer. 
“ Perhaps you would oblige me with 
‘ Vaerwel, vaerwel, mijn soetc lief/’ ” 
As she heard the name of the song, a deep 
blush Melted over her delicious northern com¬ 
plexion, like wine in an alabaster goblet.— 
Ere she could reply, we heard in the street 
below the fall, rich tones of Jost, as he pour¬ 
ed forth his evening tribute of the very bal¬ 
lad I had just demanded. 
It was a delightful night, and the moon¬ 
light gave redoubled beauty to the charms of 
my fair friend, as we both leaned from the 
casement,. As Jost concluded he gazed up 
and started at beholding me at the window. 
“ I leave Bruges to-morrow, sir !” he called 
to me. When 1 return, I will look in at the 
Golden Rose and see if you want me to ser¬ 
enade. Many thanks for your money.— 
Adieu! ” 
We returned in silence to our drawing room. 
When I next met Jost Spieler it was in 
Paris, whither I Lad gone with Gertrude on 
our wedding tour. He was singing on the 
Boulevard to an enraptured audience. He 
did not recognize me until I cast a Napoleon 
into his hat and bade him sing “ Vcarwel, 
vearwel! ” He was delighted to see me, and 
insisted on being allowed to serenade us with 
one repetition of the ballad. WheN I last 
heard of him he was in Vienna, singing the 
circumstances of my wooing and wedding in 
a ditty of his own composition, which he had 
very appropriately fitted to the tune of 
“ Vearwel, vearwel! ” 
WHY HE DIDN’T PLAY. 
“No, I don’t play on any instrument,” 
said our friend, Tom Pringle, in answer to 
our question. “To tell the truth, I became 
discouraged by a slight misconception, when 
I was a young man. I wasn’t appreciated, 
you know, and all that sort of thing.” 
“ Well, you see.” said he, in reply to an¬ 
other question, “ it was about twenty years 
ago, when 1 was studying law, and my brother 
was a medical student, that we both fancied 
we had a wonderful talent for music. So 
John bought a flute, and I fiddle, and turning 
one of the attics into a study, we practiced 
there half the night through. We didn’t 
want any one to know about it, especially our 
father, who had very strict notions as to the 
value of time ; and to make him think us use¬ 
fully employed, I had quantities of law books 
heaped up, and John had a skull and all sorts 
of bones scattered about. We knew that up 
in our ‘ study,’ no one could hear us but Bet¬ 
sy, the housekeeper, and as she was our old 
nurse, we telt sure she would keep our secret. 
One morning, after we had been whiling the 
long night hours away with our music, to our 
own mutual delight, we came down late to 
breakfast, looking, I suppose, somewhat unre¬ 
freshed. 
‘“You mustn’t Btndy tco hard, boys,’ said 
our father, considerately. 
“ ‘Yes, sir,’ said I, gravely. 
‘ Just then Betsy appeared at the door, and 
looked mysteriously at my mother. 
“ ‘ Yes what is it ?’ said mother, surprised 
at Betsy’s excited manner. ‘ What is it, 
Betsv ?’ 
“ ‘“Well, ma’am, I wish to say, ma’am/— 
Betsy always spoke in that short, nipping 
way, when she was what she called ‘ worked 
up,’—‘ I must leave you, ma’am.’ 
“ ‘ Leave me ! why ?’ asked mother. 
“ ‘ Yes, ma’am, its twenty-five years that 
I’ve been with you, ma’am—and it’s the boys, 
at last, ma’am. I can’t stand it, and I ain't 
going to. It’s not Christian-like, ma’am.’ 
“ ‘ What have the boys been doing V asked 
mother. 
“ It’s Mr. John, ma’am, and sometimes I 
think Mr. Tom helps him. He’s got some 
poor cretur up stairs, ma’am, and he torments 
him awful. He screaks and groans all the 
night through. It is worse than the heathen. 
I’ve stood it for more nor a week. I didn’t 
get a wink of sleep last night, and what that 
poor cretur went through was dreadful. I 
know they say such things must be done by 
doctors, but 1 ain’t going to stay where it is, 
and I never thought John was the one to doit.’ 
“ And Betsy gave my brother a look of 
withering condemnation. 
“ My mother was acute enough to see that 
something unusual was going on in our study, 
and telling Betsy she would inquire into it, 
she dismissed her for the present. 
“ That was the end of our musical practice, 
though not the end of the story, for our father 
took care we should not forget it. It wa3 a 
long time before we heard the last about ‘ that 
poor cretur up stairs.’ ”— N. York Dutchman. 
KIUDIMACHER. 
The attention of Parents and Teachers , School Commission¬ 
ers , Superintendents , and the Friends of Popular Edu¬ 
cation , is respectf ully called to 
The Pictorial Edition of 
WEBSTER’S ELEMENTARY SPELLING BOOK, 
HIAWATHA. 
The recent poem, from the pen of Profes¬ 
sor Longfellow, entitled “ Hiawatha,” is 
receiving a great deal of criticism from the 
press. It is written in four feet trochee, with¬ 
out rhyme, a style of composition not com¬ 
mon in our language. The New York Mirror 
hits off the poem in the following amusing 
manner : 
One Hundred and Sixty beautiful Engravings, Designed 
and Engraved exprossly for this Book. 
This edition is word for word, and page for page, the 
same as the edition without the engravings, and there, 
foro may bo u:ed in the same class. It is well printed 
on tine paper, and well bound, and is intended for those 
who aro willing to pry a trifle more for a better and 
more substantial book. Retail price, 15 cents. 
Published by Geo. F. Cooledge & Bro., New York. 
A large lot just received and for sale by 
E. BARROW &BRO., Rochester. 
Together with 8,000 Elementary Spellors at wholesale— 
cheap edition. 308 
MONTHLIES FOR THE FIRESIDE. 
HIAWATHA. 
Have you road the misty poem 
Of the mystic Hiawatha— 
Read about tho wild Dakotas, 
And the brave flumhugawampams, 
In tho vales of Hifaluten, 
In the vales of Wishy Washy 
In the vales of Sldmmy Dishy ? 
No Sir, E, Sir, that I liavo not, 
And I would not for a hundred 
Dollars paid in silver, or in 
Gold by the inflated teller 
Of a bank called the Manhattan. 
I looked in the book a moment, 
And my spine is really aching 
At the hard words Longfel- 
Low puis in his learned verses. 
Rumor says that Mr. Ripley, 
Critic of the N. Y. Tribune, 
Hired by Mr. Horace Greeley, 
Labors with an awful lock-jaw, 
Got in reading Hiawatha. 
Guess he got a-foul of this word :— 
Obcjaywayascalola ! 11 
Young Sam at His Meals. —Among the 
statuary at the Palace, there is a group in 
marble, of plaster, by Jones, of London, 
labeled “ Ptolemy Lagus, nourished by an 
eagle.” The bird is represented as in the act 
of shielding an infant from the cold with its 
wings, while a bit of something, which might 
be a date or some such edible, is being placed 
in the open mouth of the little fellow, by the 
beak of its feathered nurse. 
Yesterday, during the rain, a number of 
western drovers, who had finished their busi¬ 
ness at Bull’s Head, visited the Institute ex¬ 
hibition, and were soon deeply engaged in a 
careful inspection of all the sights. By acci¬ 
dent, some three or four of them met around 
the work of art we are speaking of, and one 
of them slowly deciphered the tog for the ben¬ 
efit of the party. 
“ It’s a Yankee lie 1” exclaimed one of the 
Hoosiers. “Putolemene Lager. Don’t I 
know? I tell ye that’s the American Eagle 
feeding Young Sam with gravel stones, to give 
him grit.” — N. Y. Sunday Courier. 
THE HOME: 
A Fireside Monthly Companion and Guinn for the Wife, 
the Mother, the Sister, and thk Daughter. 
Tnu fact that no magazine is published in this coun¬ 
try, devoted to the cultivation of the virtues of woman¬ 
ly character, and that moral excellence which sliine3 
out in the homo circlo, and adbrns the wife, tho mother, 
the sister, and the daughter, has Induced the publisher 
to announce “ The Home.” It will bo conducted with 
tho sing’.o aim to elevate social life, by teaching those 
principles, and inculcating those sentiments, which aro 
mest intimately associated with home—tho sphere of 
the trde woman. In this unoccupied field of literature, 
it will bo the constant effort of thoso who have tho pub¬ 
lication in charge, to inspire tho reader with a deeper 
love of home and nature, truth and beauty ; to lead to 
a greater desire for individual improvement, and a 
higher ambition, and thus to add to the sources of home 
enjoyment. These ends will he sought-: 
1st. By the publication of original essays upon 
topics which are connected with tho positive virtues, as 
well as the graces and accomplishments of tho true 
woman. 
2d. By original Tales, Poems, Biographical Sketches, 
and such other literary matter as will serve tho leading 
purposes of “ Tiie Home.” 
3d. By hints for homo comforts, or loop holes to let 
the sun-liglit in. This department will serve to allow 
the Editress such familiar conversation with her friends 
as may he desirable ; and will contain, from time to 
time, useful recipes, suggestions with regard to tho cul¬ 
ture of plants and fiowors, and answers to such ques¬ 
tions as shall he asked. 
4th. By a current record of tho times, embodying, in 
brief paragraphs, such items as may he of interest to 
tho family circle, worthy of preservation, or suggestive 
of valuable lessons for the home. All tho matter to he 
selected with careful regard to usefulness in imparting 
true and healthful views of life. 
“The Home” will be edited by Mrs. H. E. G. Arey, as¬ 
sisted by an able corps of contributors ; and no labor 
or expense will be wanting to render it worthy a place 
at every fireside, and a desirable companion and guide 
for the wife, the mothor, tho sister, and tho daughter. 
Each number will contain forty-eight double column 
octavo pages, and a portrait of some distinguished wo¬ 
man. Other illustrations from original designs, got up 
expressly for “The Home,” by the best artists in the 
country, will appear from time to time. 
Among tho contents of tho January uumbor is a tinted 
portrait of Miss Florence Nightingale, the trucheroine of 
Sebastopol, accompanied with a brief sketch of hor life. 
Three other original illustrations are also in the number. 
Tkhms in Advance: Single copies, one year, $1,60 ; 
three copies $4 ; seven copies $8 ; ten copies $10. Tho 
Youth's Casket and Home to one address $1,50. 
Premiums for toe Ladies. —A seventy-five dollar melo- 
deon, one thirty dollar China tea set, one twenty dollar 
do., ar.d one set silver tea-spoons, will be given as pre¬ 
miums for obtaining subscribers for the Home. Scud at 
onco and get full particulars of E. F. BEADLE, Publish¬ 
er, Buffalo, N. Y. 
THE YOUTH’S CASKET—1850, VOL. V. 
An Illustrated Mag- 
A Good Reply.— Orfulla, the celebrated 
doctor, being examined as an “ expert ” on a 
capital trial, wa 3 asked by the _ president 
whether he could tell what quantity of ar¬ 
senic was requisite to kill a fly ? The doctor 
replied,—“ Certainly, M. le President; but I 
must know beforehand the age of the fly, its 
sex, its temperament, its condition* and 
habits of body, whether married or single, 
widow or maiden, widower or bachelor.— 
When satisfied on these points I can answer 
your question.” 
Krummacher is a famous German preacher 
and author. His “ Elijah the Tishbite” is 
well known in America. When I told him, 
the other night, at a tea party, the number of 
some of its editions among us, and that it was 
read in our log cabins, in California and Ore¬ 
gon, he seemed hardly to believe me, for the 
extent of the American press is ecarcely 
known in Europe ; and when 1 assured him 
that if be would come to New York we could 
place him in sections of the city where for 
whole squares he could read German “ signs,” 
and hear the children playmg in German, and 
if he liked “ lager bier,” drown himself in an 
ocean of it, he laughed as you might suppose 
a lion would were it the habit of that noble 
creature to laugh at all, his mighty voice 
ringing into the adjacent apartments. But 
suppose not that there was anything peculiar¬ 
ly humorous in my remarks, or uncommon in 
Krummacher’8 uproarious outbreaks. It is 
the “ vocal style” of the man. 
What the watchman said of George White- 
field can be said of this great German : “ He 
preaches like a lion 1” lie not only preaches 
but prays so, and makes speeches, and even 
“ says grace” at the table in the same manner. 
He introduced our public dinner the other 
day with a “grace” in German, which was 
roared out as if addressed to an army half a 
mile off. Of course this peculiarity surprises 
everybody at first, but you soon get accus¬ 
tomed to it. Whether it arises from good 
Gothic heartiness or is a vocal defect I know 
not; but be this as it may, Krummacher is 
considered the mest eloquent man now in Eu¬ 
rope. He is chaplain to the King of Prussia, 
and some of his sermons are said to be like 
earthquakes. He is personally a delightful 
man. He appears to be between fifty and 
Bixty ; his hair is light, but not gray ; it is 
combed sleekly over his ears ; his eyes, poer- 
inc' throne-h brierht gold spectacles, are blue, 
FRUIT AND ORNAMENTAL TREES, 
SHRUBS, &c., 
FOR sale by 
JAMES VICK & Co., ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
JAMES VICK, GEO. MARSHALL, 
Editor and Publisher “ Genesee Farmer,” 
anti late publisher of tbe “ Horticulturist.” 308 
A New Work on Cottage Architecture. 
ing through bright gold spectacles, are blue, 
and expressive of mildness of character not¬ 
withstanding the roaring ferocity of his voice. 
He is in good condition, inclining a little to 
episcopal dimensions. There is a peculiar 
blandness and youthfulness about him which 
recalls to yon the title of “ the ever youthful,” 
which was applied to his great countryman, 
the poet Klopstock.— Rev. A. Stevens, in 
Christian Advocate and Journal. 
azino for tbe Young ; 
containing twenty four 
octavo pages monthly, 
for only Fifty Cents 
a year in advance. 
Vol. V. commences 
January, 1856. 
*;l mw 
MAp, YOUTH’S'CASKET, 
^ In four octavo vol- 
$j|M *, nines,containing noar- 
i ly (our liiiudrod pages, 
a® beautifully illustrated 
and sent pre-paid to 
any post ofllco in the 
SB® Union, for only three 
jEsair dollars. 
e. F. BEADLE. 
Buffalo, N. Y. 
A Great Mistake. —The Boston Post, 
in reference to the wear and tear of coin, says 
that a gold coin would last two thousand 
years before it would entirely disappear. Mr. 
Phatgander Broomsticks thinks that there 
must be some mistake—his gold coin, of the 
largest dimensions, generally taking no more 
than a week to disappear, while he has known 
a double eagle to be worn down to the size of 
a three-cent piece in the course of a single 
evening. 
3E5 O Y" 
THERE IS FUN AHEAD! 
Gkt your Father, 
Or your Mother ; 
your Brother ; 
or your Sister ; 
your Uncle; 
or your Aunt; 
your Playmate ; 
or your Schoolmate— 
Some one, or all of them, to keep a sharp lookout for 
the throe now books written by a Buckeye boy (who 
has been nine years at sea) for your ospeclal 
AMUSEMENT AND INSTRUCTION. 
Two will be published during the present month—No¬ 
vember—will bo illustrated with liandsomo engravings, 
and beautifully bound. Their titles are : 
MAN-OF-WAR LIFE: 
A Boy’s Experience in the United States Navy, 
DURING A 
Voyage round the World, in a Ship of tho Lino. 
1 Volume. 16mo. 75 els. 
TIIE MERCHANT VESSEL: 
A Sailor Boy’w Voyages to See the World. 
1 Volume. 16mo. 75 cts. 
WESTERN N. YORK FARM FOR SALE, 
Situated ten miles west of Rochester, and adjoining tho 
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308 North Chill, Monroe Co., N. l. 
WHALING AND FISHING. 
(IN PRESS.) 
1 Vol. 16mo. 75 els. 
THE ECONOMIO COTTAGE BUILDER ; 
or,; 
COTTAGES FOR MEN OF SMALL MEANS, 
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TO WHICH AUK ADDED MANY 
VALUABLE HINTS AND USEFUL OBSERVATIONS, 
Illustrated with Tinted Designs on Stone. 
BY CHARLES P. DWYER, 
ARCHITECT AND CIVIL ENGINEER. 
In One Octavo Volume, Cloth , Gilt, Illustrated. Price $1,25. 
Each book is complete in itself, while tho serios will 
embody all the varied phases of Life on tho Ocean, nar¬ 
rated with the vigor incident to the pon of a ready 
writer, who voluntarily exiled himself from homo and 
sought out tlieRO paths of personal adventure and stir¬ 
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His books fill a spaco hitherto unoccupied. They pre¬ 
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sailor, in fair weather and foul, calm and storm, at sea 
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again tho sturdy Whaleman. Practical and matter of 
fact in their views, they are just such volumes as pa¬ 
rents may safely put into the hands of their children, 
to enable them to form propor ideas of a phase of life 
heretofore onveloped in a veil of romanco and mystery. 
Tho romance of reality is here vividly portrayed by the 
hand of an actual participant. 
Three th)usand copies are already ordered. 
MOORE, WILSl’ACH, KEYS & CO., 
Publishers, Cincinnati. 
MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN. 
New York. 
WII1TTAMORE NILES & HALL, 
306 3eow Boston. 
This work is intended to meet tho wants of a class of 
people who may dcsiro to build and own houses for their 
own rosidouces, which shall not consume all their means 
and leave them with a structure only partly fiuishod.— 
The instructions are all practical, and embrace statistics 
for building every grade of Cottage from tlio house com¬ 
posed of logs, to the ornamental and finished residence. 
large number of valuablo receipts, never before made 
public aro added, and those who desire to build within 
thoir means will find them invaluable. The illustra¬ 
tions, 24 in number, and the ground plan3, aro beauti¬ 
fully deno, and the work will be issued in a style com¬ 
mensurate with its merits. Agents wanted to soil this 
work. 
Thoso wifching early supplies, should address, 
WANZER, VcKIM & Co., 
Publishers, Buffalo, N. Y. 
N. B —Papers copying this advertisement throo times 
and sendiBgcopy of paper to the publishers, will bo en¬ 
titled to a copy of the book. _ 308 
STRAW WANTED ! 
We will pay four dollars per tun. cash, for straw. 
Rochester, Nov. 12, ’65. ADAMS, HASTINGS & CO. 
PREMIUM BERKSHIRE PIGS. 
I iiavk a few pairs for sale, (Torn the pons that won 
the First and Second Prices at Elmira. They will be so 
mated as to breed well together. 
Also, a few first class SHORT-HORNS, both male and 
female. S. P. CHAPMAN. 
Clockvillo, Madison Co., N. Y., 1856. 
(Railroad Station, Can&stota, N. Y. C. R. R.) 
WASH AND BE WHOLE, 
The Subscriber offers for salo a lot of ton acres of land, 
upon which is one of the best Water Cures in the State, 
entirely new ; when all finished, will accommodate one 
hundred patients ; already enough finished and furnish¬ 
ed to accommodate half of the number. Jor particulars 
address 306 A. PENNELL, Houeoye, Ont. Co., N. Y. 
A DAIRY FARM FOR SALE. 
The Subscriber offers for salo his farm of 194 acres, 
situated In the Chemung Valley, 6% miles south-east of 
Elmira village, Chemung Co., N. Y., and 1% miles 
north of tho villago of Wellsburg, where there is a de 
pot of tho N. Y. & E. Railroad. 170 acres aro improv¬ 
ed, 60 of which are river flats. Tho buildings aro new 
and thoroughly painted, and tho conveniences for dairy¬ 
ing superior. Within half a mile of the farm is a grist¬ 
mill, a Raw-mill, a cldor-mlll. a basin on the junction 
canal, a church, a school, u P. O., aud blacksmith shop. 
For further particulars, call on the subscriber on the 
premises, or addross him at Elmira. 
806 B. S. CARPENTER. 
