MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
FEB. 14. 
I 
PT 
-old; 
r •„ 
passing gold. 
irtune leans, 
JWippiueas secure; 
r „ little means — 
rt is always poor. 
■ eatert still enthrals, 
h its high compeers ; 
s palace halls, 
not exempt, from tears. 
and beggar's coat, 
sword, the plume and plow 
if equal note— 
the eternal “ Now 1" 
lisappointnient tracks the proud, 
bravest 'neath defeat may fall; 
high, the rich, the courtly crowd 
'.Find there’s calamity for all. 
is not the house that honor makes— 
True honor is a thing divine ; 
It is the mind precedence takes— 
It is the spirit makes the shrine. 
So keep thou yet a generous heart, 
A stead last and contented mind : 
And not till death consent to part, 
With that, which Fiend to friend doth bind. 
What’s uttered from the life within 
Is heard not by the lift* without; 
There’s always scum-thing to begin 
’Twixt life in faith and life in doubt. 
But grasp thou Truth—though black appears 
The rugged path her steps have trod— 
She'll he tliy friend in other spheres; 
Companion in the woild of God. 
Entered according to Act of Cotigrejsb, in the year 1867, by 
I). D T. Moore, ill the Clerk** Office of ttie Jh'btilot 
Court for the -Northern District of New York. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MY CITY COUSINS. 
BY MBS. MARY J. lyjLMES, 
It was a drizzly, rainy morning, about the mid¬ 
dle of November, that I first started on a visit to 
my Aunt Hakding, who lived in Hartford, and who 
almost every summer spent a few weeks at Meadow 
Brook, together with her two daughters Theodo- 
cia and SEKAvuiNA.or Tiieo, and Pin: me, as they 
preferred to be called. So often had they visited 
at our house, and so perfectly at home did they 
make themselves when there, that I t iought it 
hardly more than fair that some of us should oc¬ 
casionally return the compliment. 
So when at her last visit Aunt Harding said to 
me at parting, “Po come and see us, Jenny,” I 
decided in my own mind to do so, and when the 
November following my father had business in 
New Haven, I asked permission to accompany him 
as far as Hartford. At first my mother refused, 
without, however, giving me any good reason save 
that it was not best, but when, like any other gbl ] 
of twelve, I cried and insisted upon knowing 
"why I couldn't go,” she finally replied, “I do not 
think you’d enjoy it at all, for though your Aunt 
Harding is pleasant enough here, and though 
Tiieo. and Phesie treat you kindly at your own 
home, it will be very different in the city. They 
are proud, fashionable people, and will, I dare say, 
be ashamed of their country cousin, if, indeed, they 
own you as a relative at all.” 
This was a phase of human nature which I had I 
never yet seen, living as I always had at Meadow 
Brook, and to my mother’s remarks I replied that 
"I didn’t believe a word of if ; and I wanted to go 
any way.” Here Grandma came to my aid, saying 
“l was as good any day as Tiieo. and Piienie, and 
mother ought to let me go and see the ways of the 
world.” 
After a little further consultation, it was decided 
that I might accompany father, and never was 
there a happier child than the one who, on that 
rainy morning, stood in the Meadow Brook depot, 
awaiting the arrival of the eastern train, and care¬ 
fully watching the little hair trunk in which were 
packed all the better portion of my own clothes, 
together with numerous selections from the ward¬ 
robe of my mother, sisters, and grandmother, the 
latter of whom lent me her gold heads, bidding me 
not to wear them unless Aunt Hardino had com¬ 
pany. 
It was about three in the afternoon that the om¬ 
nibus which took us from the cars stopped in front 
of the three-storied building, which the driver 
thought was the residence of my Uncle, who had 
moved since father was there before. To be cer¬ 
tain, however, he ran up the steps, and ringing 
the bell, asked if “Cob Harding lived there?” 
"Yes;—who under the sun have you brought 
here?” was the rather ungracious answer of the 
fieroc looking colored girl who eyed us askance as 
we descended from the muddy vehicle. 
"Some of your country cousins, I reckon,” an¬ 
swered the driver in a low tone, as he deposited 
my trunk on the steps and turned away whistling 
"Yankee Doodle,” 
A slight noise at one of the chamber windows 
made me look up just in time to catch a glimpse 
Knowing that the surest way of finding his 
brother was to go to bis place of business, my 
father left me alone, saying he would soon be back. 
'(Neither of ns bad had any dinner; my head was 
Jaching dreadfully, and throwing myself npon the 
Hlofa I begau to cry, wishing I had not come. In 
Hthe midst of my paroxysms the street door opened 
| and I knew Aunt Hakdixg had returned, for I 
heard her ask Dkusa, "where that old thing came 
from,” meaning roy hair trunk. There were a few 
whispered words, and then Aunt Harding came 
up to me, saying, as she gave me her hand, " Js it 
possible, Jenny! When did you come?” 
Prying my tears I told her the why and the 
wherelore, whereupon Bhc continued, rather ab¬ 
stractedly, I fancied,—" Yes,— yes,— your father 
will bo gone a week, and you will stay here until 
his return;—to-day is Friday,—yes,—yes—” 
Here the bell rang, and seizing me by the shoul¬ 
der, Bhc said, "Let me show you to your room;” 
at the same time she hurried me from the parlor, 
bidding Prttsa, who was going to the door, to first 
‘‘put that trunk out of sight.” 
Up, and up, and up she led me until we reached 
the attic, where she ushered me into a comfortable, 
but plainly furnished chamber, saying, by way of 
apology, that "they had just got the green room 
fixed for Edward's folks, who were, coming the 
next day from New York. Then, too,” she con¬ 
tinued, "your father will sleep iu the blue room 
to-night, and if, when he's gone, you are not con¬ 
tented Imre, you can change, you know, but I guess 
you'll not -wish to. My nieces from Taunton al¬ 
ways sleep here and like it, judging from the 
length of time they stay.” 
At this moment Dkusa appeared, saying my 
aunt was wanted in the parlor, and bidding me 
change my dress and comb my hair, she left me 
alone iu that dreary lit tie attic from whose pro¬ 
jecting windows l could see nothing save a host of 
chimneys and the dark spires of one or two church¬ 
es in the distance. Not a word said she to me 
coucerning the empty state of my stomach, though 
this was always the first question mother put to 
her and hers when, hungry, dirty and cross, they 
came upon us like a swarm of locusts, occupying, 
as a matter of course, the very best rooms in the 
house, frequently lying in bod until 10 o'clock,and 
then skimming the cream for coffee from tbe 
n orning's milk, to say nothing of their keeping 
old Sorrel constantly on the go, when they were 
not entertaining company at our expense in the 
parlor. I had looked upon these things as some¬ 
thing which we owed to them, being our guests, 
and now that the tables were turned, I began to 
. wonder if I, too, were not entitled to some atten- 
i tion, and if it were fair to leave me alone that 
i chilly afternoon without fire or food, the latter 
being what 1 most craved and needed. 
The making of roy toilet occupied my mind for 
a time, and at last, just as it was growing dark, 
Dkusa came to tell me that tea was ready, and in 
e?'ger baste I followed her down to tiielongdining 
room, where I found my father, unde and cousins, 
the latter of whom shook my hand very gingerly, 
and then, without ever saying they were glad to 
see me, turned aside and commenced talking to a 
parrot, who in a most unearthly, guttural tone, 
clamored for a cracker, which was finally given to 
him. The table was handsomely set with damask, 
china and silver;— but the supper! Words would 
fail me were I to attempt a description of my sen¬ 
sations when I saw the thin slices of bread, aud 
1 the still thinner slice of butler,—the half dozen 
withered clingstone peaches swimming in a sea of 
fermented juice,—the six round hard seed cakes, 
and the four little crackers! I didn't believe it 
would begin to “go round,” but it did,andsonext 
morning did the hash, there being a spoonful left 
for manners I dare say, as my aunl laid great stress 
on sucb things. But poor manners fared hard that 
time, for as 1 was quitting the breakfast room I 
saw Tiieo., who had daintily picked at her food 
with the massive silver fork, hastily remove the 
big spoon from her mouth, aud when I involunta¬ 
rily looked for the hash, it was gonel Such a 
breakfast naturally brought, to my mind visions of 
our own well supplied table, and I began to see 
why it was necessary for my city relatives to visit 
the country at least once a year. 
After my father had left us, my cousins equipped 
themselves for a shopping excursion, they said, 
and as I bad been commissioned to make purchases 
for half the people in Meadow Brook, 1 proposed 
accompanying them. Glancing hastily at each 
other, they made me no answer, but. with my wits 
sharpened, I readily understood that I was not 
wanted, and with my eyes full of tears, I was leav¬ 
ing the room, when my aunt, whose mam.er to¬ 
wards me was now somewhat difl'erent from that 
of the previous night, i eked what was the matter. 
A few low spoken words from Piibnie explained 
it, and then, laying her hand on my shoulder, she 
said, “Never mind, love,—I am going to market 
pretty soon, and you shall go with rue, I presume 
I am a better judge of the kind of articles yon 
wish to purchase than they are.” 
So they departed without me, and half an hour 
after my aunt and myself emerged into the open 
street, she first inspecting me closely, bending my 
bonnet a little to the right, then to the left, and 
finally saying, as she gave it a pull, that “it beat 
all what taste country milliners had.” Next she 
removed from my collar the gold pin which mother 
had lent me, and which contained a lock of our 
dead baby’s hair. “This,” she said, "looked old- 
fashioned, and she'd warrant it was not good gold, 
and if we happened to meet Mrs. Ufdisu, who was 
a great judge of such things, she would detect it 
in a moment.” When at last we were fairly in the 
of both Tueo. and Pdenie, who instantly drew street she very kindly informed me that "in mect- 
back and started, I had no doubt, to welcome me! 
But iu this I was mistaken, for though 1 et a*, 
anxious glances towards the winding Btaiis, confi¬ 
dently expecting to see them come running down 
with ^extended hands and ollered kisses, as they 
were wont to do at Meadow Brook. I saw no signs 
of them, though the rustle of silk led me to sus- 
pect that.some one was watching us from over the 
bannisters, as we entered the parlor, whither the 
colored w oman conducted us. Upon inquiry we 
learned that my uncle was at the store, that aunt 
was making calls, while the gil l, who was named 
Drusa, " didn't know whether my cousins were in 
or not,—she would go and see,” and ere I could 
tell her that they were, she left the room. Soon 
returning she brought the astounding intelligence 
that they were ho/h out, adding that wo “ must make 
ourselves to home till somebody came.” 
iug a gentleman I must be sure and keep the inside 
of the walk, as nothing sooner betrayed ignorance 
than a departure from this rule.” 
An angry retort rose to my lips, for though 
Meadow Brook bad hut one genuine sidewalk, and 
that was down by the stores, I had from my ear¬ 
liest remembrance known how to turn out and 
when, but the hasty words were unspoken, and in 
silence we continued on our way, my aunt a little 
in advance, so that a casual observer would have 
supposed we were nothing to each other. Hither¬ 
to I had thought my aunt to be very free with her 
money, and I was much surprised to hear her quar¬ 
rel with the market men aud women about the 
price of turkey, oysters, cranberries, and celery, 
all of which she finally bought for a sixpence less 
than the sum first asked. The marketing being 
done, my shopping came next in order, and it 
struck me as a little singular that all the shops in¬ 
to which we entered looked dark and seedy, not at 
nil like what I had fancied city stores to be! It is 
true we passed several fanciful looking establish¬ 
ments, through whose show-windows I caught 
glimpses of numerous well-dressed ladies, to whom 
a long row of obsequious clerks were bowing,— 
and—well, not exactly fibbing perhaps, but stretch¬ 
ing the truth, just as they did the goodsthey were 
selling. But into none of these did she take iue> 
and once when she saw a bold looking woman ad¬ 
vancing towards us she whispered to roe, “ Bun on, 
dear, slowly,—turn down the first right hand street, 
and then take the left—I went to speak in private 
with a lady.” 
As nearly as I could I followed her directions, 
but of course I lost, my way, and after a tramp of 
two hours or more I sat down upon the steps of a 
large wooden building and began to cry. Iliad 
not sat there long when a young and fashionably 
dressed man came out and asked “what I was 
doing there?” 
In a few words I explained to him that “I had 
lost my way and wanted to go to my uncle’s, Col. 
Harding's.” 
"Col. Harding your uncle!” said he, bending 
upon me a scrutinizing look; “ Then his daughters 
must be your cousins?” 
*■ Yes,” said I, " Thko. aud Phenie.” 
Satisfied that I told the truth, he now offered to 
see me home, and under his escort I proceeded on 
my way, while he questioned me very politely, but 
still rather closely as to where I lived, when I 
came to the city, and how long I was going to stay. 
When I mentioned Meadow Brook he repeated it 
after me, adding, "Your uncle's summer residence 
is there, I believe?” 
“What, sir?” said I, looking up quickly, while in 
explanation he asked, “If it were not at Meadow 
Brook that my uncle's family usually spent their 
summers?” 
Yes, sir, at cur house. Uncle has no residence 
there,” said I, while he returned seemingly to 
himself more than to me, “la it possible? Per¬ 
haps Col. Harding owns the farm and rents it to 
your father;—this would account for it.” 
All my pride was roused, and with considerable 
spirit I answered, “No he don't,—father ow ns the 
farm himself. It's the old Homestead, and we 
don’t charge Aunt Harding a cent cither.” 
The next moment I regretted a speech, which 
produced upon my companion a strange effect, 
malting him silent and thoughtful. He had a most 
winning face and manner, and fearing I had of¬ 
fended him, I at last ventured to apologize, though 
for what I hardly knew'. 
Smiling down upon me, he said, “Nevermind, 
little girl;—if w bat you tell me is true, it will help 
to open my eyes.” 
I had never told but one or two lies in my life, 
and what with the remorse and the whipping which 
I endured, I had no desire to try a similar experi¬ 
ment, and so 1 assured him, whereupon lie smiled 
agaiu, and as we just then came in sight of my 
Uncle’s house, he excused himself from going any 
further, and bidding mo good morning, he left. me. 
In the parlor I found my cousins, aunt and un¬ 
cle, the latter of whom was blaming bis wile for 
having left me to find my way in a city, and telling 
her "she would spoii everything, if she managed 
that way.” 
What there was to spoil I did not know', and 
wishing to relieve my uncle of his fears I showed 
myseli in the room, whore I was assailed by nu¬ 
merous inquiries as to whore I’d been and w'hom 
I’d seen, this last question being put by Piienie 
and Tiieo., as by far the most important one. Rea¬ 
son as I would, 1 could not help feeling that I had 
done w'rong in telling a total stranger that my 
uncle did not payhia board at Meadow Brook, and 
so thinking I should probably never see the young 
man again, I resolved to say as little about bim as 
possible. Accordingly, in narrating my adven¬ 
ture, I merely spoke of him as the man who had 
seen me crying and shown me the way home. 
“How did he look? Was he a gentleman?” 
asked Tiieo., eagerly, and I replied what I knew 
would soonest quiet her, and what was in a mea¬ 
sure true, — that he looked some like “Jacob 
BuEL,”a youth at Meadow Brook, whose attentions 
to the fastidious Tueo. w r erc rather annoying than 
otherwise. 
This satisfied her that ’twas not a.gentleman, and 
further than that she did not care. By this time 1 
began to think of dinner, for at home we dined at 
twelve, and it wa3 now nearly one. As if divining 
my thoughts, Aunt Harding brought from the 
closet a plate containing a half slice of bread,—a 
seed cake, a piece of musty apple pie, saying as 
she banded it to me, “Edward’s folks will be here 
at five, and we are not going to have dinner until 
then.” 
With a great effort I forced down the bread, and 
then pushing the plate away, said “I did not want 
uny more,” though at that moment I would have 
given all I possessed for the privilege of eating 
the remains of the nice dinner which I knew was 
that day cooked at Meadow Brook, 
The reader will pardon me for saying so much 
about eating. It is Dot good taste, I know', but 
thcD, as it happens, I am just now going through 
a process of dieting, greatly against my will, and 
therefore out of the abundance of the heart my 
pen writeth. 
Edward’s folks, of whom I have once or twice 
spoken, consisted of my aunt’s only son, wife and 
baby, the last of w'hom was about six mouths old. 
The wife, who was a New-Yorker, was said to be 
immensely wealthy', and whenever she visited at 
my uncles, it of course created considerable ex¬ 
citement, the utmost pains being taken to appear 
"stylish,” while great fears were entertained lest 
“Sister Mary, who was so highly bred, should be 
shocked by anything at all democratic.” 
[Concluded next week.] 
- 4 «-»■------— 
How to BE Beautiful.— If man orwoman either, 
wish to realize the full power of personal beauty, 
it must ho by cherishing noble actions and pur¬ 
poses—by having something to do, and something 
to live for which is worthy of humanity, and 
which, by expanding the capacities of the bouI, 
gives expansion and symmetry to the body which 
contains it.— Professor l/pham. 
Words. —“Words, word?, words!” says Hamlet, 
despairing; hut God preserve us from the destruc¬ 
tive power of words. There are words whose 
sting can remain in the heart through a whole life. 
fUirtli’s teitfi. pit ititii fftatm 
FAM ILIAR chapters on chemistry, 
introductory. 
Believing that there are many subjectsconnected 
with Chemistry, which, if brought before the mind 
of childhood in a simple and plain manner, would 
not only prove of interest, but, at the Bimie time, 
have a tendency to call forth a spirit of inquiry 
and investigation resulting in strengthening and 
developing the mental organism, we purpose treat¬ 
ing occasionally some of the practical portions of 
this department of scieuce for the special benefit 
of young Ruralists. To fully accomplish our pro¬ 
ject,various illustrations will be used, and forthese, 
as well as facts upon which our remarks may be 
based, we arc indebted to Johnston’s Chemistry of 
Common Life, 
The first division of the series, (comprising three 
or four chapters,) will be devoted to The Air we 
Breathe. The air is familiar to us aii, we regard it 
with little curiosity, and yet it is exceedingly won¬ 
derful, both in itself and its uses. Have you ever 
thought of its vastuess, its power, and of the many 
duties it performs? Let us consider for a few mo¬ 
menta. it rises with its cathedral dome arching 
towards the heavens. The distance which it occu¬ 
pies is known to be thirty-five miles—there, in this 
vast space, it floats about like that grand object 
which the Apostle John saw in his vision—" a sea 
of glass like unto crystal.” So massive and so 
powerful is it in its fury, that it throws about great 
ships like playthings, and sweeps peaceful homes 
or tall trees like snow Hakes before it to destruc¬ 
tion. In its milder moods, so quiet is it that we 
will 1iveyear8 before we cau believe that it exists— 
to-day the majority of mankind do not know that 
they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight 
and pressure arc so groat, (estimated to be, at a 
level with the sea, about 15 pounds to the square 
inch of surface,) that, iron svill shiver under it like 
glass; yet it tosses the soap-bubble to and fro, and 
the wing of the tiniest insect may waft it aside, 
A writer in the London Quarterly Review beauti¬ 
fully describes the action of the atmosphere and 
its effects upon some of the heavenly orbs. He 
sn ys:—" The air ministers lavishly to aLI our senses. 
We touch not. it, but it touches ns. Its warm south 
winds bring back color to the pale face of the in¬ 
valid—its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow, 
and make the blood mantle in our cheeks; even 
the northern blasts brace into new vigor the hard¬ 
ened children of our rugged climate. The eye is 
indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise, 
the full brightness of mid-day, the clustered radi¬ 
ance of the gloaming, aud the clouds that cradle 
near the setting sun. But for it tlio rainbow would 
want its ‘triumphal arch,’ and the winds would 
not send their fleecy messengers round the liea- 
vens. The, cold would not shed snow feathers 
upon the eai’th, nor would drops oi dew gather on 
the flowers. The kindly rain would never fall, nor 
hail stone, nor fog diversify the face of the sky.— 
Onr naked globe would turn its tanned and un¬ 
shadowed forehead to the sun, and one dreamy, 
monotonous blaze of light and heat dazzle and 
bum up all things. 
Were there no atmosphere the evening sun 
would in a moment set, and, without warning, 
plunge the earth in darkness. But the air keeps 
in her hand a Bheaf of his nil’s, and lets them slip 
but slowly through her fingers; so that the shadows 
of evening are gathered by degrees, and the flow¬ 
ers have time to bow their heads, and each crea¬ 
ture space to find a place of rest, and to nestle to 
repose. In the morning, the sun would burst, at i 
one bound, from the bosom of uiglit, and blaze 
above tbe hoiizon; but the air watches for his 
coining, aud sends at first hut one little ray to an¬ 
nounce his approach, and then another, and bye- 
and-bye a handful, and so geutly draws aside the 
curtain of the night, and slowly lets the light fall 
on the face of the sleeping earth, till her eyelids 
open, and like man, she gocth forth again to her 
labor until the evening.” 
Until the ingenuity of Fulton gave the steam 
engine to humanity, the winds were mighty me¬ 
chanics Operating upon the huge arms of the 
windn i l, they spun the brittle thread and wove 
the fabric, they turned the stones that convert¬ 
ed the produce of tho field into suitable food 
for man, they wafted his rich fleets across the seas, 
and toiled aud delved in a hundred ways for his 
benefit. At tho present time many of these mills 
are iu use throughout Europe, and may be fre¬ 
quently met with in our own country—but the ele¬ 
ment is too tickle and unstable for Young America, 
who wants something more definite and with a 
"go in it”—as for the rest, be assured, u he'll make 
it go.” 
For Moore’u Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I ms composed of 19 letters. 
My 5, 4, 8 does not mean well. 
Sly 12, 8, 10, 12, 18 is a girl's name. 
My 1, 0, 19, 12, 15 covers a part of the earth's sur¬ 
face. 
My 7, 17, 15, 10 is a poetical female ronne. 
My H, 12, i I, 4, 12 is a gay young lady. 
My 8, 6, 2, 13 was the first sou of man. 
My 9, 8, 15, 12 is a favorite game with many. 
My whole is the name of an American poet. 
Yictor, N. Y„ 1857. B. H. 
Answer next week. 
-—*-•- 
For Moore a Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
My first, a vehicle of ponderous size, 
That o’er the rails with deafening racket flies; 
My next a darling, precious, lovely dear— 
its cherub face we wish forever near. 
My whole with cost and care we tightly spread, 
Then lightly o'er its flowerets heedless tread. 
IfarioD, N. Y., 1867. E. B. Cray. 
fSsP Answer next week. 
-, 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ARITHMETICAL PROBLEM. 
How long will 77 lbs. of flour last 9 boys, if 24 
lbs. will last 5 men and 4 boys for 7 days, suppo¬ 
sing 11 boys to equal 6 men. 
Oakland, I.iv. Co-, N. Y., 1837. C. L. CuDKBEO. 
f/SsP Answer next week. 
-- - 
Answ'er to Geographical Enigma in No. 370:— 
E. D. E. N. Southwortb. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem in No. 370;— 
A is entitled to i and B to g. 
RHINOLOGY. 
BY JOHN G. 8AXIL 
Motto — “7 ruse what I knows!" 
The Roman nose betokens manly sense ; 
The humble Snub bespeaks the modest man, 
But then ’twill never rise to eminence, 
The least aspin'Dg ol tbe nasal clan, 
With but a moderate love ol lame or pelf; 
(I’ve got, they say, a mubbieh nose myself J) 
The Aquiline proclaims the keenest wit. 
But lull of guile *« any hawk, or hawker, 
The Turn-up nose (as ancient Horace writ) 
Is everywhere a Kcomer and a mocker ; 
Some crooked end it secretly proposes ; 
Don’t hang your bat or hopes on turn-up noses t 
The Bottle-nose ig commonly a feature, 
One doesn't from parental lore inherit; 
And hence discloses not so much the nature 
Of mind and soul as of some other “ spirit 
It's meaning therefore, is of small avail, 
As in a droutby time the “ sign” must fail. 
The Gimlet-nose betrays an intenneddler ; 
Whene’er you see a gimlet-nose before you, 
It augurB that somo new-opiuimi-peddler, 
Or "special agent” now iulends to bore you; 
The very chap who, when be pucks your joint. 
With hideous smile cries—" Dontyou see the point }" 
-A—♦- 
A WESTERN PROSPECTUS. 
The editor of the Cayuga Chief, formerly an 
Eastern man, lately removed to the West, where 
ho has “ got loose.” Hear him: 
Now we straighten up to full five feet ten, lock 
our arms deliberately over our breast compress 
our lips, put a “lurking dragon” in each eye, drop 
our shaggy browB most terribly, and impressively 
announce: “ We live at the Fortl ” And we wish it 
understood, that means a good deal. Let no man 
question tbe truths involved in tlftat announce¬ 
ment, who is not prepared to follow us to Niagara 
Falls, or to be caned indefinitely if we catch him 
—where he can't help himself. We say that our 
office is—by measurement — tho exact center of 
everywhere! The blue dome culminates over our 
chimney. We are on the Great Trunk Railway, 
from sunrise to sundown. All the sunshine, from 
east to west, passes here. The “Night Trains” all 
pass here. The “Sun Express” through in ten 
hours, reaches here precisely at 12 o'clock M., 
“plentyof time for refreshments.” In fine, this is 
the “Great Central Route,” the shortest, safest, 
and quickest, running over a thousand miles an 
hour! 
Enough said. Fort Atkinson revolves around 
the Chief office, Wisconsin around the Fort, and 
the world around Wisconsin. Milwaukee is too 
far from here to ever be much of a place. Wis¬ 
consin is in Fort Atitinsou, and not, as bas been 
supposed, iu Milwaukee. If our statements are 
questioned, we are prepared to get up indignation 
meetings, let our bile have free course and be 
glorified, impugn motives, denounce corruption, 
defeat the first ticket we can get at, aud at one 
fell blow send everything to smash. 
N. B. The Chief is the only paper published at 
this central point, aud will be forwarded to all 
towns in the suburbs, at $1 00 per annum. Ad¬ 
dress T. W. & Emma Brown, Box 27,000, Wisconsin 
P. O., State of Fort Atkinson. 
* • * • 
" Willie,” said a doting parent, at the breakfast- 
table, to an abridged edition of himself, aud who 
had just entered tho grammar class at the high 
school, " Willie, my dear, will you pass the butter ?” 
“Thirtainly, Thir—taktbes me to patbe any¬ 
thing, Butter ith a common thubihantive, neuter 
gender, agreeth with hot buckwheat caketb, and 
ith governed by tliugar—molatheth underthtood.” 
A pert lawyer in the Sooth lately insulted the 
Judge, who fined him $50. lie repeated the in¬ 
sult, and the Judge doubled tho fine; he tried it 
again, and he trebled it. Final!)’, he asked per¬ 
mission to go home. “ What for?” asked the J udge. 
“ To buy your honor’s paper at ten per cent to pay 
my fine.” 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LEAPING WEEKLY 
agricultural, literary and family journal, 
IS rtJBLJSntD EVERT SATURDAY 
IiY D. 1>. T. MOOUK, BOCHESTEB, N. Y. 
Office, Daily Union Building, Opp. the Court House 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Subscription—$ 2 » year—$1 for six month*. To Clubs sod 
Agents as follows —Three Copies ono year, for $6; Six Copies 
land ono to Agent or getter up of club.) for $10, Ten Copies 
land one to Agent,) lor $15, and any additional number at the 
same rale, 11.1,50 pur copy.) As wu arc obliged to pro-pay tho 
American postage on puperB Bout to the British Provinces, our 
Canadian Agents aud Irieuds must add lZJj cents per copy to 
the club rates of tho Rural. 
Abtxrtisjko.— Brief and appropriate advertisements will be 
inserted at 26 cents a line, each insertion, payable in advanco.— 
Our rule is to give no advertisement, unless very brief, more than 
four consecutive insertions. Patent Medicines, Ac., will not bo 
advertised in this puper «t any price. 
» »«- 
SPECIAL NOTICES. 
Clubbing with thr Maqazin es, Ac.—We will send the Rural 
New-Yorker for 1857, and a yearly copy of nil her IlurytOs, 
Ooiky's, Graham's or uny other $3 maguslne, for $1 The Rural 
and cither Arthur's Mwjazme, the Nation,n Vuya^ttu, or any other 
$2 magnxine Tor $3. The Rural and either The ttoapS, the loom 
(inn the .tntti(» munUtly nun:urine devoted to tho Industrial Arts, 
AgricidDire, Cotnmerco and Manufactures,) or The ilorUcuttu* 
rial, for $A 
K3TT nx Rural is published strictly upon the CAan sr&tiu 
—copies ere never mailed lo Individual fnibseribcra until paid 
for. (or ordered oy a responsible agent,) and always discontinued 
when the subscription term expires. Hence, a prompt renewal 
is necessary to secure the regular continuance of the paper. 
iqr- In remitting $16, or more, if convenient please send draft 
on New York, Albany, Buffalo, or Rochester, (loss cost of ex¬ 
change,) or check or cert! tic ate ot deposit on any Bank in either 
ol Baid cities,—payable to our order 
E3T-Ant perron so disposed can act ns locsl agent for the 
Rural, without eortilleato, and each ami all who volunteer in 
the good cause will not Only receive premiums, but their aid 
will be graiolully appreciated. 
ty Club papeT* are sont to M many different addresses or 
post-offices us requested, and we write the names of subscribers 
on papers If desired—thus saving Agents and Post-Masters from 
any labor or attention in the premises. 
Kjr-Tnosis who ere forming largo clubs o»n send on the 
nonius and money ol such pure g» i.s do not wish to wait, and 
complete their lists afterwards. 
l~&~ In ordering the Ruual, bo sure and specify name of 
Boet-OJict, County, and 8iulf, lerritvry or I’rovince, 
-*-—•- 
Non-Gus&ciuueus who rveulvo this nnmber of tbe Rural 
Nkw Voiikek are invited to give it a careful examination, and, 
il approved, lend their kind offices to introduce the paper to the 
notice and support ot their friends and acqualntsmces 
s 
I 
I_ 
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