r*' 
M 
BROKEN LYRES. 
BT OLIVER WBXDKLL UOLMI». 
Wr count the broken lyre* that rest 
Where the sweet wailing gingers slumber, 
But o’er their silent rister’s breast 
The wild ilowcr* who will stop to number? 
A few can touch the magic Btriog, 
And noisy fame is proud to win them; 
Alas! for those that never sing, 
But die with all their music la them! 
Kay, grieve not for the dead alone, 
Whose song h»* told their heart’s sad story 
Weep for the voiceless, who have known 
The crng« without the crown of glory! 
Not where I.cucadian breer.es sweep 
O’er Sappho’s memory-haunted pillow, 
But where the glistening night dews weep 
O’er nainnVfi sorrow’s church-yard pillow. 
0, hearts that break and give no sgn, 
Save whitening lip and fading tresses, 
Till death pours out the cordial wine, 
glow-dropped from Misery’s crushing presses. 
If singing breath or echoing chord 
To every hidden pang were given, 
What endless melodies were poured, 
As sad as Heal th, as sweet as heaven! 
its 
fWritten for Moore's Rural Kow-Yorker.] 
LAST THANKSGIVING AND THIS. 
BY MAKY J. CB08MAN. 1 
- 1 
“ Come forth to the haunts of your childhood, come; t 
To the roof in whose shadow your life was nurst; 
By the hearth of the household there yet ts room, 
Where your breath of thanksgiving was faltered first, ( 
The faggot is Muring your welcome home, 
And from joyful lip» shall your greeting burst.” < 
Mns. n. b g. arky. i 
- i 
LAST THANKSGIVING. 
An, they were so joyous making ready for the 
day! There a sunny head which had seen but Ha 
eighth summer, sat in the light of the east win¬ 
dow in the kitchen. “ Mother, please make some 
crullers, won’t yon?—they’re ho cunning and no 1 
good; and won’t you put some raisins in the 
pudding, just, as you did lu:,t year?—the children 
like ’em so well,” and Jam lit turned to the little 
box of uluilled corn near him, and threw a few 
kernels to the fattening tuikcy which chanced to 
pnsB along. 
“ I see the turkey you can have next year,” con¬ 
tinued Jamie to his mother, who was in the pantry 
making scod-cakes. 
“Can you, my darling?” and with her check 
apron the mother wiped away the tears that were 
gathering in her eyes—she knew too well that 
when they were to prepare for another Thanks¬ 
giving, Jamik's chair would he vacant—his inno¬ 
cent, childish voice, hushed forever. 
“Jamie’s sorry for you, poor biddies, but, after 
all, Thanksgivings are good days,” said he, still 
scattering corn t.o the fated fowls. 
John Blake and bis wife were honest, indus¬ 
trious people. They were above want, (I use the 
word want in its comparative wanting senso,) and 
often had something to give their poorer neigh¬ 
bors, yet Mrs. Blake affirmed that it needed close 
economy and pretty good management to bring 
the year about They and the twelve children 
God had given them, were blessed with excellent 
health, excepting poor Jamie in the chair by the 
east window. When some of Mrs. Blake’s 
neighbors, who found it difficult to worry through 
a third of the work she accomplished, would ask 
her “how in the world she ever did so rnoch 
with all her children,” she would say, “O, la, I 
get along easy enough. If one goes out, 1 never 
call him in—if another one goes to sleep, I never 
wake him up—sometimes I s'pose you’d call us 
pretty thick, but we always get straightened out 
before Sunday.” 
In that working, bustling family, Jamie was 
never a burden—ah, no; he was the darling of 
the household. The children had taught him to 
read, and so apt was ho to learn, that at the age 
of six, he could read better than most boys at 
ten. Jamte longed to be useful—he had rocked 
the cradles of the three children younger than 
himself—he soothed their sorrows, mado and 
repaired toys for them, as well as for the older 
ones. One day, after he had linished winding 
some yarn for his mother, he turned wearily, and, 
looking out of the window, said, “ Why can’t 1 be 
well, too, do you suppose, and work and play 
with the other boys. 1 get so tired sitting in my 
chair doing nothing, and you have to work so 
hard, mother, and so does father; but 1 know I 
ought not complain, God gives me such good 
friends, anil every blessing I could ftsk, but one— 
all but one .” 
Those sad, wistful tones, entered the mother's 
soul like iron, and she would Bay to John, her 
husband, “It hurls me more’n a hard day’s work 
to hear him make any complaint—he’s always so 
gentle and patient, but it ain’t no more’n natural 
that sometimes he should get tired out sittin’ 
there.” 
Every neighbor that passed Jamie’s window 
almost always looked up and smiled. Many nice 
apples, many little bags of beech-nuts, hickory- 
nuts, etc., found their way into the small hair 
trunk.that always stood by his chair. In that 
trunk were his story books and his bible, his jack¬ 
knife, pen-knife, au awl and other et ceteras of 
mechanical art whieh beguiled many a slow- 
footed hour. 
It was a pleasant episode in the Blake family 
to prepare for Thanksgiving,—pleasant to expect 
the children all home, to see the pale face by the 
window bright with expectancy. It was custom¬ 
ary for the children living from home, each to 
provide a dish for the table, that their mother's 
hands might be the less burdened. Five of the 
eldest were married. Susan lived twenty miles «. 
away, and was the wife of a thriving, money- t 
making farmer; she had four boys, promising i 
children rather, but so harum-Bcarum and noisy: i 
“ Like sportive deer they chased about, 
And shouted a* they ran; | 
Turning to mirth the things of earth 1 
As only boyhood can.” • , 
Of course they were delighted to go to grand¬ 
pa’s, and boisterous us they were, Jamie's low 
voice had ever a charm for them and the little 
trunk many tokens of their geuerosity. 
“Now, mother, what may wc take to Jamie this 
year?” asked John, the second boy, who was 
named for his grandfather. “I know what I 
shall take,” broke in the stout voice of Georoe, 
the eldest. 
“Oh, tell what It is,” pleaded Johnny, “I won't 
get what you’ro agoing to.” 
“No, I guess you won’t,—yon liaint got money 
enough. I’m goln' to get him the nicest knife in 
Suei’Iierd's Btore,— one with four blades and a 
tooth-pick in it, and a place to mark his name. 
I’ve got ten shillings, and I don’t care a whittling 
if it takes every cent of it,— little Jamie shall 
have the knife;” and would you believe the great, 
rough boy brushed a tear from his eye, though he 
turned suddenly and walked off toward the win¬ 
dow whistling, “ Wait for tbe Wagon.” 
JoSKHi, Mr. Blake's second child, was a black¬ 
smith living in a neighboring town; he was the 
most showy of any of the family,—always drove 
a handsome horse, which, in sleighlng.timc, wore 
the merriest bells and danced before tbe prettiest 
cutter anywhere around. He had a round-faced, 
black-eyed wife, who was aB proud of her husband 
as was ho of her, and their little three-year-old 
duplicate rejoicing in his first pair of hoots. 
Mark and Henry were house-carpenters,—boys 
who loved their mother amid the cares of married 
life, with nearly the same tenderness as when 
they knelt at her knee, and, with her hands clasp¬ 
ed over their heads, repeated their evening pray¬ 
ers. Every Thanksgiving they brought her a 
dress,—as Hannah made for Samuel “a little 
coat, and brought it to him from year to year, 
when she came up with her husband, to offer the 
yearly sacrifice.” 
Last Thanksgiving, Julia’s husband was first 
welcomed among thorn as a child. He had been 
brought up in tbo neighborhood, and their love 
dated back to the long ago, when he drew her to 
school on his sled, chose sides with her at spell- 
mg-schools, and selected her from the ring when 
at apple-parings they would play “ get married.” 
Julia was sweet-tempered and amiable, the most 
so of all the girls, and her mother knew when she 
gave her up that another home would he bright¬ 
ened even as their's had been. 
These were the married children who came 
home, who, with the grand children, and the 
other seven, made qnito a circle in behalf of one 
turkey. By eleven they were all there; by one 
o’clock they were seated around the table, Jamie's 
chair drawn closely beside sister Julia’s, — ah, 
Jamie had the hardest struggle of any in resign¬ 
ing Julia. 
How pleasantly the meal passed off to that 
humble family; how many associations of the 
past it brought to mind — some laughable and 
some sad. True, the children were waiting im¬ 
patiently without, but so long as Busan’s boys 
were managers they were not likely, as Johnny 
said, to “ get out of plays.” 
Then, when their turn came, how eagerly each 
one looked over his plate to sec who had the 
wish-bone—for it had passed into a statute, “that 
the parts containing the wish-bones Bhould be 
reserved for tbe children’s table.” 
Those, families ou that day remembered what 
the past year had done for them,— what gifts of 
joy and sorrow’ it hud laid at the door of each. 
Looking over the future, they pledged themsc-lves 
to meet again on next Thanksgiving, so many of 
themasGon should spare. Jamie's eyes moist¬ 
ened aa these luBt words were said, though only 
hiB mother and Julia noticed it. About four 
’ o'clock, Josex’H, and Make, and Henry, with 
1 their families, prepared for going home. Susan, 
‘ as well aa Julia and her husband, were to remain 
over night, and after they had all gone, Jamie, 
i with one hand in Julia's, read about those beau¬ 
tiful mansions beyond, where there are no more 
> partings, no moro sickness, neither sorrow nor 
* death. 
Julia’s baby. Harry’s children, I forgot to say, 
were remarkably quiet and useful,—so much more 
so than some of their cousins, that it seemed they 
must have been born on the condition that they 
would never make any trouble, and do all the 
good they could. None realized so fully as on 
that day how closely the little invalid entwined 
about their hearts. 
“ We dream not of Love’s might, 
Till death hath rob’d with soft and solemn light, 
The image we enshrine. Before that hour 
We have but glimpses of the o’ermaateriDg power, 
Within ub laid." 
After the Bupper-disbes were washed and put 
away, and the pledge of a renewed meeting made, 
MrB. Blake brought out the trunk containing 
Jamie's treasures, to divide some of them among 
the children. There were little gifts from Har¬ 
ry's girls, buoks and toys from Mark’s son and 
the other boys, and there was the four bladed 
knife he had prized so highly, and with which 
he had wrought such cunning images for the 
children. 
“ Here, Gkobgk, you brought this last ThankB- 
My wife 6milcd sadly, as she said to me in an 
under tone: 
“Ned Bowen subscribed five dollars.” 
“I don't see how he can aflerd it,” I replied, 
"as he does not get any better wages, or work 
more hours than I do.” 
A few days after the foregoiog event, on an 
invitation from Ned Bowen and hia wife, we 
spent an evening at their house, which we found 
much Better furnished than our own, though 
there waB no apparent attempt to make any 
needless display of furniture. 
Tbe evening passed pleasantly away, but I 
could not avoid some unpleasant feelings, when¬ 
ever T contrasted their home with our own. 
“I wonder,” said I to my wife, on our way 
home, “if Bowen does not go in debt for some 
of their furniture?” 
“He does not," she replied, “for his wife told 
me that they did not owe a dollar in the world.” 
“But how can they live aB they are doing on 
his wages, if be gives five dollars at a time for 
charitable purposes?” 
“I think 1 can tell you,” said my wife, in a 
Dcrhscments. 
Flo you wish to read an entertaining; instructive, reli¬ 
gious’nn<] secular, family newspaper, MiunC, conservative, 
aurl safe, 
THE LARGEST IN THE WORLD, 
giving a full, impart ill and reliable tnrmivary of all tho 
nows In all religimis denominations, from *11 political par¬ 
ties, from all conntrirs in tho world,Vlonsim.- to no sect in 
the Church, and.to no pa>ty in the State, but opposed to 
every ism that disturb® tho po»ro nf the community and 
giving, now you may have it again,” Baid his hesitating manner, 
THIS THANKSGIVING. * 
“ Go, call JRXNV from her spinning, 
Go, call Josky from the mill, 
For I’m going on a journey 
That is very long and utilL” 
This Thanksgiving,—ah, its story is shortly 
told. True, eleven children gathered around Mr. 
Blake’s table, but like the man who, “ when be 
had an hundred sheep, and one went astray, left 
the ninety and nine, and went into the mountains 
grundmother, putting the knife towards him. 
“ No, 1 can’t take that knife, grandmother, you , 
keep it,” said George hastily. 
It wab not a time for unnecessary words — she 
laid down the knife, and taking up Jamie’s bible 
banded it to George, speaking partly to herself, 
and with a clearer voice than you would have 
thought, “ lie that getteth wisdom loveth his own 
soul;—the fear of the Lord is tho beginning of 
wisdom.” 
After returning to the other children their 
gifts, Mrs. Blake laid her Thanksgiving drees— 
that day Mark and Harry brought their mother 
a black dress—in the little trunk, shut down the 
lid and put it carefully away. 
Sainted Jamie! early was thy mission-work 
completed. In life’s morning wert thou made 
peifeet through suffering, and long will the east 
window, in whose sunlight thy beautiful life ex¬ 
haled, be to the mourners a hallowed spot. 
-- 
THE HOLE IN THE POCKET; 
OR, THE SECRET OF SUCCESS. 
Jona6 Slack and his wife commenced house¬ 
keeping, as many other young people do, with 
little means for defraying the necessary expenses; 
but as he was a good mechanic, and could gen¬ 
erally find employment in liis native village, and 
she being an industrious little woman, besides 
doing her housework, earned considerable in the 
course of a year by doing plain sewing. But 
still they did not seem to prosper as did Ned 
Bowen and his wife, who commenced housekeep¬ 
ing near them about the same time, under similar 
circumstances. The reason why, and the way he 
made the discovery, we will let him tell in his 
own words. 
My wife said to me one evening, “ Mr. Slack, I 
wish to get some thread and needles at the store, 
and want a little change.” I felt in my pocket, 
examined my wallet thoroughly, but could hnd 
nothing that would pass for cui reney at the store, 
and reported the unpleasant fact to her.” 
“Why!” said she, “what has become of the 
half dollar I gave you this morning, that I got 
from Mrs. Jones for sewing,” (she had always 
made mo cashier of the firm.) 
After another unsuccessful attempt to find it, I 
said:—“Mrs. Slack, I think there must be a hole 
in some of my pockets, for certainly I have not 
got it, and I do not think of anything I have 
paid it out for.” 
“I’ll look to your pockets this evening,” said 
she, mildly, “and mend them, if they need it.” 
It was not long after this conversation, that I 
remembered having treated myself and three 
friends to ice cream and oranges at a confection¬ 
er’s shop, but concluded to keep the discovery 
to myself. 
“1 could not find any hole in your pocket last 
night,” said my wife, the next morning, in a 
gentle tone, and with a look that my feelings 
prevented mo from scanning closely, and all the 
reply I felt willing to make, was, “Ah! couldn’t 
you ?” 
A few days afterward, she called on me for 
twenty-five cents Bhe had lately deposited in my 
sub-treasury for safe keeping. A thorough search 
proved unavailing. 
“ReaUy, Mrs. Slack,” said I, thinking it best 
to show a bold front, “ there must he some corner 
or seam in my pocket that is open,” (though re¬ 
ally 1 could not find one, any more than I could 
the missing quarter.) 
“If there is, it is singular that I did not find it 
the other eveniDg,” said she, in her usual quiet 
way; “hut I will be sure to find it this evening, 
if there is any.” 
On the way to my work after dinner, while 
“Well do, if you please,” I replied, not a little 
curious to know what her ideas on the Bubject 
were. 
“WeB,” she continued, “in the first place, she 
never buys for herself any unnecessary finery, 
and takes good care that nothing is lost or de¬ 
stroyed that comes into the house, and—” 
“But,” said I, interrupting her, “I doubt ama¬ 
zingly whether she is more careful in that rCBpect 
than my own model wife.” 
“In the second plaoe,” Bftid she, "he iB as carc- 
niahin? pleasant and inutrucUve reading for children and 
parents, iu all the realms nf mutter and rnlnn I You can 
have it for tine rear bX sending vnnr mime sod address, 
with Sc,50, to the >kw York iiii.skiivkii office. 
COMMISSION TO AGENTS. 
Any person whn will obtain five new subscribers with ad¬ 
vance payment, tnav retain Fivr Dollars as his commis¬ 
sion, «n<f for twenty new subscriber*, tcav retain twenty- 
live Dollars as his commission. . . „„ 
SIDNEY K. MORSF. Jr., k CO., 
Editors and Proprietors 37 Park Row, New York. 
ANO-FROM BAKER’S ISLAND. 
We would call the attention of Guano Dealers, Planters, 
and Farmers, to the article which we hare on hand and 
for sale at 
40 Per Cent less than Peruvian Guano, 
which we claim to be superior to any Guano or Fertilizer 
ever imported or manufactured in this country. 
This Guano is imported by 
WILLLVM H. W JGIJIJ, 
OF NEW YORK, 
From Baker’s and Jarvis’ Islands, in the South 
Pacific Ocean. 
Sold genuine and pure ae Imported by the Cargo, or at 
retail by 
.JOHN II. SARDT, General -Vent, 
No. 68 South Street. Corner of Wall Street, 
NEW YOKE. 
It has been witirtactorUy tested by many of onr promi¬ 
nent fanners, and analysed by the most eminent ana popu¬ 
lar Agricultural Chemists, and found to Contain, (as will be 
seen by our Circular,) a large per centnge or 
Bono Phosphate of Lime and Phosphoric Acid, 
and other nniuial orruuic matter, yielding ammonia suffi¬ 
cient to produce immediate abundant crops beside* bud- 
ful in these respectB os she is. He boys no ice KtantLlly enriching the mil. It can b« freely used without 
1 , . ., ,. ... danger of burning the *cedor plant, bv coming in contact 
cream, oranges, cigars, &c., neither for himseti w ith it,H«i* thec**c with mime other ferrdizer*; retaining 
nor any of his pretended friends. In short, my 
dear Mr. Slack, he has no hole in his pockets.’’ 
It was the first word of suspicion my wife ever 
nttered on the subject, and that fact, together 
with the conviction that she had clearly seen, 
and bo unexpectedly, but in so kind a manner, 
told me the real cause of the difference between 
our home and that of Ned Bowen and hia wife, 
cut me to the quick—or rather, I should have 
said, it sowed me up, and my pockets too; they 
have never had holes in since that evening. Her 
change lias alwayB been safe in them ever since, 
and our home now will not suffer any in compar¬ 
ison with that of our friends the Bowens. With 
good books and papers, I can spend my leisure 
hours more pleasantly and profitably at homo 
than anywhere else; and the saving ot small ex¬ 
penses more than pays for them, and is the Becret 
of success. 
------- 
Beauties or Shadows.— The shadows all day 
long play at silent games of beauty. Every thing 
is double, if it Btands in light. The tree sees an 
nnrevealed and muffled self lying darkly along 
the ground. Tho slender stems of tlowers, golden 
rod, wayside asters, meadow-daisies, and rare 
lilies, (rare and yet abundant, in every nice, level 
meadow,) cast forth a dim and tremulous line of 
shadow, that lies long all tho morning, shortening 
till nt>ou, mill creeping out, again from *Lo root oil 
the afternoon until the sun shoots it westward in 
the morning. A million shadowy arrows snch as 
these spring from Apollo'Bbow of light at every 
step. Flying in every direction, they cross, inter¬ 
lacing each other in a soft net-work of dim lim s. 
Meanwhile the clonds dropshadow-likeauchors, 
that reach the ground, but will not hold; every 
browsing creature, every flitting bird, every mov¬ 
ing team, every unconscious traveler, writes itself 
along the ground in dim shadow.— Beecher. 
a jrr»»At ilcCTtfO r>r moistures it ciiu*t** Hit* j»lni>i to grow in 
healthy condition* ** hn» i*fpved t 
'free OF INJECTS. 
For order* in any quantity, (which will bn promptly at- 
tended to,) or rwmphlet*containing full particulsr* of an¬ 
alyse* unu test* of farm or*, apply us above. 5ot-3teo 
For wit!#- by J. 0. Ttf.OSS k CO., at tho American Seed 
Store, 7i* Main street, Rochester, N. Y. 
H All. ft MOKIiOKr. Breeders of pure 5hort-horn 
. and Alderney (Mile, South Dorm and Silesian 
Sheep, Sujj'nlk ami Ktiei Pig*, Rochester, V \ . [®tltf 
yy lUEJCLKB At WI1AUN MAM KAOTUKIM* UU.W 
IMPROVED FAMILY SEWING WAOIIJNES, 
OOii Bro«dw»>’, Now York. 
Thane Machines Combine nil the Lite improvements for 
Hemming, Stitr.Mngn.nA Pelting Seam*,*m\ me the West lu 
Use fur FAMILY akwi.NO and tailoring work. 
I’rices from *0 to **>. Hei.oo^^^lra,. 
015 -tf Nos, ? undid Smith’s krtsuXa, Rochester, N. Y- 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AGRICULTURAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 101 letters. 
My 100, 26, 0, 82,21, 50, 4, 24, 68, 7 is a variety of wheat. 
My 46,81,24, 68,05. 92, 49, 72, 39, 80, 37 is a parasitic 
animal which affects wheat. 
My 58,1,40, TO, 101, 3,10, 9, 44, 30, 44, 76, 90, 50, 24, 11 is 
the name of a moat destructive insect when stored 
among wheat or corn. 
My 2, 51,17, 55, OT, 14,12,67,18,45,10, 23,41, 59, 70 is a 
variety of corn. 
My 8, 28 , e’, 53, 77, 60, 67, 93, 74, 9, 22,0,44, 34 is a variety 
of oats, 
My 40, 9, 03,92, 5,31,33, 25, 62, 99, 88,42, 16, 98, 67 is a 
simple saline mnnure. 
My 16, 85, 46, 71, 90, 22, 35,14, 63, 79, 91, 73 is a species of 
grass. 
My 36, 94,50,27, 61, 52, 96, 48, 19, 76, 32 is a breed .of 
cattle. 
to Beek that which was lost,” so did their thoughts passing 
the Arcade SalOOD, the fate Of my wife’s My 64,15, 87, 42, 86 is a disease of the windpipe to which 
leave the elovcu and go out towards the eternal 
mountains, to the Savior’s fold, whither their 
blighted lamb had been taken. 
When they were preparing for Thanksgiving 
this year, they could not appropriate the turkey 
that Jamie had selected and fed with his own 
hand until a week before he went away. 
After Joski’U had brought his family, he went 
over to get Julia; she had made a real orthodox, 
New-F.ngland pudding, just such a one hb her 
father's mother had always mado Thanksgivings, 
when they lived on true, puritan soil, hut forty 
miles from where the Muy-Flower landed. 
Julia’s advent gave unusual pleasure, probably 
on account of the baby tucked snugly under her 
shawl,—a wonderful baby it was, just five weeks 
old, with its father's handsome features and the 
blue eyes of its mother. It was wrapped in em¬ 
broidered ilannei8 and muslins, and over all a 
white merino cloak; the cloak was a little too 
fanciful its grandmother thought, but as it was a 
present from its papa’s sister, which her bouncing 
baby had outgrown, the little one wore it with an 
economical gravity becoming the family circuin- 
, stances. Susan, Harry’s oldest daughter, was 
I soon in the rocking-chair, ready to take Aunt 
quarter came distinctly to my mind. It had 
vanished in smoke in front of that institution, 
L e., it had paid for five finely-flavored cigars, 
which some of my village “friends” had helped 
me to dispose of while discussing politics there 
the previous evening. 
Mrs. Slack never told me whether she found 
any hole in my pocket or not, and I did not feel 
disposed to push the investigation on the subject 
any farther at the time. 
Although I was Beldom entirely out of change, 
still it was frequently unpleasantly scarce. In 
fact, I spent more than I w as really aware of, in 
small items from day to day, for the double pur¬ 
pose of maintaining my reputation of being a 
“clever fellow,” and to gratify my appetite or 
fancy for things I could have done very well 
without. 
The result was, that we did without things at 
homo which my wages would have enabled me 
to buy, and left something for charitable pur¬ 
poses. 
One day, I was presented with a subscription 
paper for the benefit of the Orphan Asylum, 
which I reluctantly handed back without signing, 
with the remark that I really could not afford it. 
young cattle are subject. 
My 10, 84, 64, 69, 35, 22, 6,13, 81 is an implement much in 
use among farmers. 
My 20, 81, 38. 46, 43, 84, 32 are leguminous plants. 
My 58, 47, 66,88, 24, 36. 92, 29, 68, 13, 37 is the “ proper 
bone ” in the foot of a horse. 
My 32, 97, 65, 73 is often called the poor man’B manure. 
My 7, 83, 9, 21. 93 v ns a noted agricultural chemist. 
My 89, 5.16, 52,1,10,20. 84, 42 ia'a phosphaticmanure. 
My whole—which was written about three thousand 
year* ago—is proof that bad farmers are not the exclu¬ 
sive property of the Nineteenth Century. 
\ Rochester, N. Y., 1860. Harry Gaylord. 
$3r” Answer in two weeks. 
CHARADE 
OxR ray of light divide in twain, 
Two perfect words you'll see quite plain; 
Each the same meaning will convey; 
Our present state they both display. 
ZST Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c„ IN No. 564. 
Answer to Astronomical Enigma:—And lo, the star, 
which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came 
and stood over where the young child was. 
Answer to Charade:—Harts-horu. 
Answer to Algebraical Problem:—Two and three. 
015-tf Not.8and,10Smith's Arc* '» t- r > enter, N. Y. 
I IMK,—I'ligcW Perpetual K IIm, Uul.-i.uv5 Jub, IriSf.— 
j Superior to any in u*e W Wo#"', or CVml. ‘I'i cordsof 
sat "li&ir & wsyMturx. 
MOORE’S RURAL KEW-YOKKER, 
ran largest circclatkd 
AGRICULTURAL, LITER A RY AND FAMILY WEEKLY, 
IS 1'CHUBIIKD BVKRT SATURDAY BY 
n. 1>. T. JKIOIti; ROCHESTER# N. Y. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite tlic Court House, Buffalo St. 
TKILNIS IN ADVANOK: 
Two Dollars a Yxar— $1 for six months. To Clubs and 
Agents as follow*Three Copies one yea), f or $5; Six, and 
one free to ClttO agent, xor $10; Ten, aliu one tree, for $1«; 
Fifteen, and one free, for $21; Twenty, and one free, Tor $29; 
and any greater number at same rale—only $1,23 per copy 
—with au extra fre« copy for every Ten Bubaerlbi rn over 
Twenty. Club papers sent to different Post-oBices, if de¬ 
sired. As wo pre-pay American postage OH paper-# sent to 
the British Provinces, our Canadian agents and friend* must 
add 12J4 cents per copy to the club ralop of the Rural.— 
The lowest price of copies sent to Europe, &c., is $2,50—in¬ 
cluding jit» (stage. 
Tn« above Terms ami Rate* are invariable, and those 
who remit less than specified for a single copy or clnb, will 
be credited only a* per rates, and receive the paper accord¬ 
ingly. Any person who is not an agent sending tho club 
rule ($1,50 or $1,25) for a (JukIc copy (the price of which is 
$ 2 ) will only recoii-o the paper the length of time the 
money pays for at full single copy price. People who scud 
us less than published rales, and requr-t the paper fora 
year, or a return of the money, cannot be accommodated— 
for it would bn unjust to others to comply, and a great in- 
uouveuieuce to return remittances. The only way to get 
the Rural for less than $2 a year is to form or join a club. 
PUBLISHER’S BPECIAL NOTICES. 
*37“Look Sharp, Friends!— If those ordering the 
Rural would write all names of persons, rost-ollices, Ac , 
correctly and plainly’, w>: should receive let* scolding about 
other people* error*. Our clerks are not infallible, bnt 
most of the errors about which agent* complain are not at 
tributablo to any- one in tho Rural i.Xlice. People who for¬ 
get to date their letters at any place, or to sign their name*, 
or to give the name or address for copies ordered, will 
pleasu take things calmly and not charge us with their sins 
of omission, etc. 
ty Clubbing with tub Magazines, Ac.—We will send 
thelltORAL New-Yorker for 18G1 and a yearly copy of either 
The Atlantic, Harper'8, Godey's, or any other $3 mac* 
■Ine, for $4. Tbe Rural and either The UortiCUlturiM, 
Morey's Uagattlne, Arthur's Magazine, or any other 
$2 magazine, for *3. Canada subscribers must add the 
American postage. 
fer" roBTAOB on the F.rRAL. — The postage on the 
■ Rural Nkw-YorkeR is only 3,‘.i cents per quarter, or 
13 cents a year to any part of this State, (except Monroe 
county, where it goes free.) and C'A cents a quarter, or 26 
cents a year, to any- other part of Uie United States, pay¬ 
able quarterly, in advance, at the ojjiet where received. 
iy Thr Rural is published strictly upon the cash svs- 
tem— copies are uever mailed to individual subsenher* un¬ 
til paid for, (or ordered by a responsible agent,) and always 
discontinued when tbe subscription tena expires. 
f-gy- any person so disposed can act a* local agent forth* 
Rural, and those who volunteer in the good cause wi'J-’ 1 : 
eeive gratuities, aud their kindness be appreciated. 
t3T For Advertising Terms, see preceding page. 
1 BACK NUMEERS AND VOLUMES. 
Back numbers of this volume of tbe Rural can 8ti11 
be furnished to new subscribers. Though onr edition 
is running low, we find, on counting, that wo yet have 
a few sets more than we wish to save f»r binding. 
Hence, we can still supply copies of the entire volume 
at tbe rates heretofore offered to Agents. 
In answer to frequent inquiries whether we can fur¬ 
nish all the back volumes, at wliat price, Ac-. we would 
again state that neither of the Jirel f ee volumes can 
be supplied. We can only furnish tbe last five volumes 
—for 1855, ’56, ‘57 ’5Sand* 59. Tlic price, bound, $3 P l ” 
volume. Tho only complete volume wo can Hinds 
unbound is that of last year-price, $2. Copies of the 
* Eleventh volume (IS60.) will be fnrnUbed as soon a» 
r, completed: price, bound, $3-unbound, $2. 
16 fir We have many orders on hand for all the blir 
volumes, aud regret that we can only furnish as above, 
except when we can purchase the first five volumes, aa 
is occasionally the case. 
