... 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
JUNE 6. 
Skitf Ifeitg. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
GBORGIE OF THE MOUNTAIN GLEN. 
BY K. C. JAMES. 
Tub rain was sobbing drearily 
Upon the autumn leaves, 
O’er Hearen sadly, wearily, 
Night drew her dismal wreaths. 
And, from the gates of craning light, 
The wind swept down the halls of sight, 
Waring her sable sashes, 
While a mournful roioe in every gnust, 
Seemed moaning “ duet shall fall to dnst," 
“ Ashe* return to ashes." 
When, like an angel seemingly. 
Unstained with earthly clay, 
A pale fair maiden dreamingly 
Upon her death-bed lay. 
Slowly the “silver cord" was loosed, 
And solemnly life’s volume closed. 
The chains of love were riveD, 
And Gkorgik of the mountain glen, 
'Mid bands of seraph angels, then 
In glory rose to hearen. 
Again the rain falls drearily, 
The autumn leaves are red, 
The lamps of tile gleam wearily, 
Along the path I tread. 
Yet often the voice of the Past, sublime 
As the breaking wares on the sea of Time 
Recalls that vanished sorrow, 
Still, I hear in its tones an angel’s breath, 
That tells of a dawn to the night of death, 
Of a beautiful to-morrow. 
Ogdensburgh, N. Y, 1857. 
ife’s I'fMiras. 
[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by 
D. 11. T. Mooke. in the Clerk's Office of the District 
Court for the Northern District of New York.] 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
IT IS MORNING WITH THE CHILD. 
BY T. 8. ARTHUR. 
A mother sat, in tears, by tbe bed-side of her 
youngest born, and best beloved. Six days bad 
passed since the hand of fever was laid upon him, 
and, ever since, the life-fountains had been drying 
np under the fervent heat. Many times daily had 
she entered into her closet and bowed herself be¬ 
fore the Father of Mercies, praying that the 
Destroyer might puss by her dwelling. Batprayers 
and tears availed not. Steadily the disease kept 
on its fatal course, and now scarcely a hope re¬ 
mained. Friends gathered around, offering words 
of consolation, but they were only as idle murmurs 
in her ears. 
“ The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.— 
Blessed be the name of the Lord,” said the good 
pastor, who, only a year before, had taken the 
sweet boy in his arms, and, in the presence of an¬ 
gels, touched his pure forehead with the waters of 
baptism. 
But the mother made no sign. She coaid not 
accept this affliction as a blessing—she could not 
offer up thanks. Her very life was bound up in the 
life of her child, and the thought of separation was 
so terrible that no place for consolation was left 
in her grieving spirit. 
“It is appointed unto man once to die,” added 
the minister, still seekiugto penetrate the mother's 
heart, and pour in oil and wine; “ we must all pass 
by this way—muBt all enter this valley—must all 
go down into the dark river. How much better 
then, to die in the morning of life, ere fierce sun¬ 
beams have drank the fragrant dews, or the green 
leaves have withered on the sapless branches.” 
Still the mother made no sign. 
“ You will have a treasure in heaven; and where 
the treasure is, there will the heart be also.” 
Bat all availed not. The tearB fell like rain. 
Sadly, at length, the minister turned away, and 
left the weeping mother with her friends ; for her 
ears were closed to all words of consolation he 
could offer. 
An hour later, and the mother still bent over 
the frail body of her little one. There was no hope 
in her heart, for she saw upon his wan face the 
signet mark of the death-angel. One only friend 
remained with her; and, until now, this friend had 
offered no wordB of comfort The grieving mother 
was bending over the pillow upon which the sick 
child lay, and gazing down upon the countenance 
she wa3 soon to see no more, when she felt a hand 
laid gently npon her own, and with a touch that 
sent a new impulse throbbing through the heart 
« It is very dark here, sometimes,” said the 
friend, very softly, very tenderly, and with a mean¬ 
ing in her voice beyond that contained in the 
words she had uttered. 
The mother answered only by a returning pres¬ 
sure of the hand. 
“Even the light of this world is darkness when 
compared with the light of heaven. Here the best 
and most highly favored do little more than grope 
their way. There every one walks in noon-day 
clearness.” 
She had gained the mother’s ear. Her words 
had gone inward to the regions of thought 
»I have passed through these deep waters, my 
friend,” she continued, “and have heard their ter¬ 
rible roaring. I have held my dying babe in my 
arms, and clung to it with an agony of grief that 
seemed as if it would Bnitp my very heart-strings. 
But after the keenness of the affliction was over, 
I had this consolation, and it has remained ever 
Bince, When the Digbt with me wasat the darkest, 
it was morning with my child. Yes, it wrb then 
that the morning broke on him which waB never 
to go down in night. Blessed morning of celes¬ 
tial glory! Ob, how often, and often since, when 
I have walked in darkness, have I thanked Gan, 
with a true heart, fervently, that it was morning 
with my child 1” 
The mother’s tears ceased to fall, and she turned 
her wet eyes npon her friend, and looked into her 
face earnestly. 
“ There is one question,” Hfiid the friend, after a 
pause, “ that every mother should ask herself. It 
is this— 1 How do f love my child—selfishly or un¬ 
selfishly?’ If unselfishly, then whatever is best for 
the child, will give to her heart the deepest pleas¬ 
ure. I had a dream on the very night my precious 
one was taken away from me, I believe that it 
was imaged to my fancy while sleeping, by a 
loving angel sent to comfort me in my great afflic¬ 
tion. There had always been something very fear¬ 
ful to me in the idea of dying here, and awakening 
to consciousness in a new and Btrangely different 
existence; and the thought followed my child.— 
That dream was to me a revelation, and as such I 
accepted it thankfully. 1 Baw, in my sloep, two 
scenes—the one contrasting with the other, as we 
sometimes see them in pictures. One scene repre¬ 
sented the saddest of my life-experiences. I saw 
myself sitting in darkness and in tears, as you sit 
now, my friend and sister, bend in g over my precious 
babe, clinging to it as the miser clings to his gold 
—ayO, and with an intenscrpassion. ButoDlyaveil 
dropped down between that scene and another, 
which quickly chained my vision, and caused my 
heart; heavy with grief, to throb with a new-born 
pleasure. An angel, in form like a chaste young 
virgin, was clasping to her bosom u babe, in all 
the ecstacy of a new-born joy. No mother, when 
she feels upon her breast the first pressure of her 
first babe, ever felt more delight than I saw pic¬ 
tured in the face of the angel as she held my babe 
to her loving heart. Yes, my babe, just bom into 
heaven, and given into her care by the Divine 
Father of us all. 
** For a time I could not withdraw my eyes from 
the face of the angel. Never had I gazed upon a 
countenance so full of love; bo radiant with ce- 
leBtial beauty. And the babe neBtled on her 
bosom as lovingly as it had ever nestled on mine. 
From this scene, after gazing upon it until teare 
ran down my cheeks—tears of gratitude that it 
was so well with my babe, I turned to look at the 
darker one—at the sorrowing earthly mother and 
the suffering child! Poor babel Wasted with 
sickness and writhing in mortal pain. How yearn¬ 
ingly and pityingly my heart went towards it, and 
I prayed lor its deliverance. Even as the words 
went up from my heart, tbe darker scene faded 
until it became no longer visible; but the brighter 
one remained. When I awoke, and grief for my 
great loss revived in my heart, I recalled the pre¬ 
cious dream and took comfort What if 1 did 
walk in darkness? It was morning—eternal morn¬ 
ing with my child!” 
As the mother listened, to her mind was also 
pictured the two scenes. Her tearB had ceased to 
flow, and her countenance Bhowed a visible inter¬ 
est. A little while she sat musing, and then, as 
she turned her eyes full of tenderness up. u her 
sick bay, said— 
“Oh! it is hard, very hard, to give him up!— 
How can I do it! How can 1 resign him, even to 
the care of an angel?” 
The friend said no more. Her words had found 
a way into the heart of the sorrowing one, and she 
left them to do their own work. 
A little later and the hoar of deepest darkness 
came—the hour of separation. Over the mother’s 
spirit a pall of deepest gloom was spread. The 
words of her friend had faded from her mem¬ 
ory. She saw not the beautiful beyond, but 
gazed only upon a dark, gloomy abyss, into which 
her precious one was about falling, while she stood 
helpless by. Oh, what would Ehe not then have 
given for light upon tbe future!—for an unsealed 
vision. Willingly would she have died, that she 
aright go with her child along the unknown way, 
and shield him from its terrors. Over hiia she 
bent, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, caring for 
nothing but her boy; while darker and closer the 
shadows gathered around her. It was night— 
dark, cold, moonless night, with the grieving 
mother. 
For more than an hour the child had lapn in a 
deep stupor, but it was evident thatlife was grad¬ 
ually ebbing away, and that the last agony would 
soon be over. For herself, the mother had almost 
ceased to grieve,—every thought and every feeling 
were centered In her child, about passing alone 
through tbe gate of death—alone to meet the real¬ 
ities of the unseen world. 
Suddenly a light, fell upon the wan, suffering 
face—a smile played around ihe white lips—the 
eyes, long closed, and heavy with pain and fever, 
flew open, and glancing upwards with a glad ex¬ 
pression, the child said— 
“Good morniDg, mamma!’’ 
“Good morning, love!” answered the startled 
mother, scarcely thinking of the words she ut¬ 
tered. 
“ Good morning!” repeated the child, still gazing 
upwards, with a new and heavenly beauty in its 
countenance. “Oh! it is morning now!” 
Fixed was that glad look for several moments— 
then the fringing lids drooped slowly, until they 
lay softly npon the pure white cheeks. The parted 
lips closed; but tbe smile remained. The hands, 
lifted for a moment in glad surprise, fell over the 
placid breast, and all was still, and holy, and 
beautifnL 
“Yes, it is morning now,” whispered the friend 
in the mother’s ear, as she sat like one entranced 
gazing upon the pulseless form before her, which, 
as if touched by an enchanter’s wand, bad sudden¬ 
ly changed from an image of suffering into one of 
tranquil beauty. 
And it was morning with the child—a heavenly 
morning,—and morning, also, with the mother, for 
a new light had dawned upon her, and a new faith 
in the hereafter. The dark valley was suddenly 
bridged with light, and she saw her precious one 
by angel guides led safely over. 
“ God careth for these jewels,” said the friend, a 
few hours afterwards. “ They are precious in his 
sight—not one of them is lost. His love is ten¬ 
derer even than a mother’s love. We may trust 
them in bis hands with unfaltering confidence.— 
Yes—yes—grieving mother! it is indeed morning 
with your babe.” 
_«..>- 
Linz’s Irritabilities. —What’s the use of it?— 
Don’t worry yourself to death of what other peo¬ 
ple may say of you, as long as you know that it is 
not true. Take care of the truth; that’s your 
business. All falsehoods go to the bosom of their 
father, the devil, and their framers soon follow.— 
8 o much as to falsehoods of you. As to falsehoods 
to you, and as to every tale the most remotely pre¬ 
judicial to another, treat it and the narrator with 
the utmost possible indifference, until youhearthe 
story of the other party; this only is just, and wise, 
and kind. 
-- 
Lies arc hiltless swords which cut the hand that 
wields them. 
CROSSING THE FORD. 
I be»an life by rarming away from home.— 
Boileau, we are told, was driven into his career by 
the hand of fate and the peck of a turkey. Attilla 
started in life with no other cause and capital than 
an old sword, which he was adroit enough to palm 
off for the divine weapon of Mars, and Bobespierre 
owed hiB political career to wetting his stockings, 
and there heard “the words which burn,” which 
fired his soul, and determined his course in life.— 
My running away from home arose from a minor 
mortification carrying a pretty girl over a brook. 
Donald Lean and myself were good friends at 14 
years of age, and we both regarded, with a little 
more than friendship, pretty Helen Graham, “our 
eldest girl” at school. We romped and danced 
together, and this lasted for Buoh length of time, 
that it is with a feeling of bewilderment tbnt I look 
back on the mystery of two lovers continuing 
friends. But time came, as come it must, when 
jealousy lit her spark in my boyish bosom, and 
blew it into a consuming flame. 
Well I do remember how and when the “green 
eyed” perpetrated this incendiary deed. It was 
on a cold October evening, when Helen, Donald, 
and myself, were returning with our parents from 
a visit to a neighboring hamlet. As we approach¬ 
ed a ford where the water ran somewhat, higher 
than ankle deep, we prepared to carry Helen 
across as we were accustomed to do, with hands 
interwoven " chair fashion,” thus we took our 
pretty passenger through the brook. Just as we 
were in the middle of the water—which was cold 
enough at the time to have frozen anything like 
feeling out of boys less hardy than ourselves—a 
faint pang of jealousy nipped my heart Why it 
was I knew not, for we had carried Helen fifty 
times across the brook ere now, without emotion, 
but this evening I thought, or fancied, that Helen 
gave Donald an undue preference by casting her 
pretty arm around his neck, while she steadied her¬ 
self on my side by holding the cuff of my jacket 
No flame can burn so quickly or with so little 
fuel as jealousy. Before we had reached the op¬ 
posite bank, I was wishing Donald at the bottom 
“of the sea.” Being naturally impetuous, I burst 
out with :—“ Yoa need na band sae gengerly, Hel¬ 
en, as if ye feared a fa’. 1 can aye carry ye lighter 
than Donald wad the half o’ ye!” 
Surprised at the vehemence of my tone, our 
queen interposed with an admission that we were 
both strong, and that she had no idea of sparing 
my powers. But Donald’s ire was kindled, and he 
utterly denied that I was at all qualified to com¬ 
pete with himself in any feat of carriage. On 
such topics boys are naturally emulous, and by the 
time we had reached the opposite bank, it was 
settled that the point should be determined by our 
singly beariug Helen again across the ford in our 
arms. 
Helen was to determine who had carried her most 
easily, and I settled it with myself privately in ad¬ 
vance, that the one who obtained the preference 
would really be the person who stood the highest 
in her affections. The reflection stimulated me to 
resolve to exert every effort, and 1 verily believe 
to this day, that I could have carried Donald and 
Helen on either arm,like feathers. But I anticipate. 
We suffered ail the rest of the party to pa^a quietly 
along, and then ret.ir.cd to tbe ford. I lifted Hel¬ 
en with tbe utmost ease, and carried her like an 
infant to the middle of the water. Jealousy had 
also inspired a warmer love, and it was with feel¬ 
ings unknown before, that I embraced her beauti¬ 
ful form and I felt the pressure of her cheeks 
against mine. All went swimmingly, or rather 
wadingly, for ft minute. But then—alas ! in the 
very deepest part of the ford—I trod on a treacher¬ 
ous bit of wood, which rested ! 1 suppose on a 
smooth stone. Over I rolled, bearing Helen with 
me, nor did we rise until fairly soaked from head 
to foot. 
1 need not describe the taunts of Donald, or tbe 
more accusing silence of Helen. Both believed I 
had fallen from mere weakness, and my rival illus¬ 
trated his superior ability, bearing her in his arms 
for a long distance on our homeward path. As we 
approached the house, Helen, feeling drier and 
better humored, attempted to conciliate me. But 
I preserved a moody silence—I was mortified be¬ 
yond redress. 
That night I picked up a few things and ran 
away. My boyish mind, sensitive and irritated, 
exaggerated the negation it had received, and 
prompted me to a course which fortunately led me 
to better results than usually attend such irregu¬ 
larities. 1 went to Edinburgh, where I found a 
maternal uncle, a kind hearted childless man, who 
gladly gave me a place in his home, aud employed 
me in his business. Wealth flowed upon him. I 
became his partner—went abroad—resided for 
years on the continent, and finally returned to 
Scotland, ricb, educated—in short everything but 
married. 
One evening while at a ball in Glasgow I was 
struck by a lady of qoite unpretending appearance; 
but whose remarkable beauty and high-toned ex¬ 
pression indicated a mind of more than ordinary 
power. I was introduced, but the Scottish names 
had long been unfamiliar to my ear, and I could 
not catch hers. It was Helen something, and there 
was something in the face that Beemed familiar— 
something suggestive of mixed pleasure and pain. 
But we became well acquainted that evening. I 
learned without difficulty her hiBtory. She was 
from the country, had been well educated, her pa¬ 
rents had lost their property, aud she was now 
governess in a family of the city. 
I was fascinated with her conversation, and was 
continually reminded by her grace and refinement 
of rnaoner, that she was capable of moving with 
distinguished success in a far higher sphere than 
that which fortune seemed <o have allotted her. I 
am naturally neither talkative nor prone to confi¬ 
dence; but there was that in this young ludy that 
inspired both, and I conversed with her as I had 
never conversed with any. ller questions of the 
various countries with which 1 was familiar, indi¬ 
cated a remarkable knowledge of literature and an 
incredible store of information. 
We progressed in intimacy und as our conversa¬ 
tion turned on the causes which induced so many 
to leave their native land, I laughingly remarked 
that I owed my own travels to falling with a pretty 
girl in a ford. 
I had scarcely spoken the words ere the blood 
mounted to her face, aud was succeeded by quite 
as remarkable paleness. 1 attributed this to the 
heatof the room—laughed—and at her request; pro¬ 
ceeded to give the details of my ford adventure 
with Helen Graham—which I did, painting in 
glowing colors the beauty and amiability of my love. 
Her mirth during tbe recital became almost ir¬ 
repressible. A t its conclusion she remarked: 
“Mr. Roberts, is it possible that yon have for¬ 
gotten me ?” 
I gszed an instant—remembered—and was dumb¬ 
founded. The lady with whom I had become so 
intimate, was Helen Graham herself 1 
I hate, and so do yon reader, to needlessly pro¬ 
long a story. We were soon married—Helen and 
I made our bridal tour to the “old place.” As we 
approached it in onr carriage, I greeted a stout 
fellow working in the field who seemed to be a bet¬ 
ter sort of a laborer, or perhaps a small farmer, by 
inquiring some trifling particulars relating to the 
neighborhood. 
He answered promptly enough, and I was about 
to give him a sixpence, when Helen stayed my 
hand, and cried in the old style:—“Hey, Donald 
mon, dinna ye ken ye’r auld fron’s?” 
The man looked up in astonishment. It was 
Donald Lean. Hia amazement at onr appearance 
was heightened by its style; aud it was with the 
greatest difficulty that we could induce him to en¬ 
ter our carriage, and answer our numerous qnerica 
as to old friends. 
Different men “start in life” in different ways. 
I believe, however, that mine is the only instance 
on record of a gentleman who owes wealth and 
happiness to rolling over with a pretty girl in a 
stream of water.— A]>pleton's “ Gems of Art.” 
ADVERTISEMENTS. 
For Mooto'b Rural New-Yorker. 
A CHAT WITH THE LITTLE FOLKS. 
Dear Readers: — I have just been thinking how 
many children there are in this vast Republic who 
eagerly scau the “Youth’s Corner” every week, 
solve the same problems and study out the same 
enigmas. Aud yet how widely scattered 1 Some, 
perhaps, live in the prairies of the West; some in 
our own Northern country; others in the “Sunny 
South,” and still otherB in the goodly East. And 
these children a few years hence will rise np to fill 
the stations now occupied by their elders. Our 
boys of the present time will then be supplying the 
places of our lawyers, statesmen, senators, and 
even the President himself, when they shall have 
retired from the stage of action. Our girls also 
will be occopied in performing woman’s no less 
noble and glorious mission. 
Bat young persons are not often disposed to 
trouble themselves much about the future. They 
only live for the present. They do not consider 
that youth is the most important part of their ex¬ 
istence—that it is the glorious spring-time of life. 
If yon would reap a plentiful harvest in the autumn 
of your declining years, sow well in your spring¬ 
time. And be careful what yon sow. The habits 
you contract in youth will follow you through life. 
They will grow with your growth, aud strengthen 
with your strength. How important it is for the 
youth of any country to realize that 
“Ltf«i is teal! -Life is earnest I 
Aad the grave is not its goal;” 
that there is a great work for them all to do, “a 
deep and earnest life-work, solemn, real and use¬ 
ful.” Youth is the time to begin it. An American 
poet has breathed into a beautiful poem, the spirit 
with which all the young should be invested. The 
following extract will be appropriate: 
“ In the world's broad field of battle, 
In the bivouac of life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle, 
Be a hero in the strife. 
Trust no fortune, howe’er pleasant 1 
Let the dead fast bury its dead ! 
Act, act in the living Present, 
Heart within and Oon o’erhead 
I sometimes think how happy it is for those who 
are brought up amid the rural scenes of country 
life, who can wander forth in the fresh, pure air 
uncontaminated by the vice that overshadows the 
city. I do not mean to say that evil does not ex¬ 
ist in the country, but I have an undefinable idea 
of the peace aud innocence that pervades the 
farmer's dominion. But oh, how many Bnaies be¬ 
set the path of the youthful aud inexperienced in 
city life. How often have I been pained by seeing 
boys who deem it manly to smoke, and fight, and 
take their Maker’s name in vain. And how many 
young girls, too, who pride themselves wholly 
upon their dress, and neglect to cultivate their 
minds, who lose that modesty and simplicity al¬ 
ways so lovely in the female character, while they 
seek glittering baubles and jewels with which to 
adorn their persons, forget to search after the 
“pearl of great price,” aud the “ornament of a 
meek and quiet spirit.” But I ween even now, 
little readers, you are weary of my prosy talk, and 
gladly turn to a more interesting column. Well, 
never mind, wait until you are as old as I am, and 
you will find there is more truth than poetry in it. 
Rochester, N. Y., 1867. Wi.wie William. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 14 letters. 
My 4, 6,11 is a river in the United States. 
My 5, 8, 13, 2 iB a cape in British America. 
My 10, 4, 3,14 is a volcano in Sicily. 
My 7,10, 3, 8 is a river in Asia. 
My 0, 2,1, 13, 6 is the capital of one of the Arabian 
States. 
My 0, 10, 12, 3, 14, 9 is a river in India. 
My whole is a division of North America. 
North East, Pa., 1867. M. D. P. 
Answer next week. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 386:— 
If ye be willing and obedient ye shall eatthe good 
of the land. 
Answer to Enigma in No. 38G:—Ire. 
Answer to Algebraical Problem In No. 386:— 
7 horseB, 13 oxen. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem in No. 386:— 
A. has $2 42; B. $5 08, =$7 60. 
-•—*- 
Tub fickleness of fortune is felt all over the 
world. 
REMOVAL. 
FRANCIS Ac LOUTRBL, 
StatioBcrs, Printers and Book * Binders, 
Have Removed from tlielr Old Stand to the New Store 
No. 45 IVlaiden Lane, 
[Near flnMau St., JVcta-TorA ] 
V~tT‘ We supply everything in our line. Order* receive 
prompt attention. iKiwZti 
SPALD ITSTGP S 
Steam Engine and Circular Saw-Mill Manufactory. 
I MPROVED ENGINES AND BOILERS.— CireularSaw-Milla, 
with cost »tavl mandrel* and strong (run head-blocks, lever- 
get—one sawyer cutting l.lKK) feet, Inch pine, per hour Sash and 
tnuley Saw-roilla, with rotary fet'd,—tipjogle Saw-rut!!*, "elf-net¬ 
ting end self-stopping. Heading mills. Billing mills, for making 
feather edged siding. Shingle cutting machine". Straw-cutters. 
Stove-Jointer*, operated by the foot. Jointing with grout rapidity. 
Bedstead and Cunlrmaking machinery, Chuck* and hallow au¬ 
gur*, Broom handle lathes. Wood lather. Broom machinery. 
Picket fence machinery, Bran Duster*. Grain Separator*, Horl- 
sonla) Rmnt tnachinc*, ami other machinery for Mill* of all kinds 
made on short notice Contract* taken for building mills Cir- 
culai* with oats and other Information given, by addressing L. 
A. SPALDING, Loekport, Niagara Co., N. Y. 383w8 
ELMIRA R1USXO SCHOOL. 
fJMlIS INSTITUTION for Instruction on the Plano, Organ, 
jl Mrlodeon,Guitar, Violin, and In Vocal Mn.'dc and Harmony, 
is situated in a bountiful valley—healthful, quiet and plsasant— 
and provides a mo™ thorough coarse of Mosio.u. Instruction 
than has before been offered on this Continent. Pupils enjoy 
superior advantages in many respect*, befog under the super- 
vlulon of Teacher* who have *pent several years with the best 
roasters, and graduated with the highest honor* Terms for 
1857, cuniMifmc.ii a* follow* : 
IVInrvb ‘lth» I" "t Ail, Re pi ember 2ft, December 2d. 
Pnoila can enter at any time during tbe term. Thirty pnplls can 
be accommodated in the titmily of tha Principal, at the rata of 
$60 por Torrn—including board, tnition, use oi piano, wishing, 
fnel and light. For further particulars, anil all necessary Infor¬ 
mation address Miss C. G. SCOTT, i’Wi.vcirxi. 
Elmira, N. Y, May, 1857. XYlmGwe 
OBKAT SALE OF I’lIUE BIIGD STOCK I 
W ISHING TO BE FROM HOME SEVERAL MONTHS 
Uni present and coming year, I tthnll sell bv auction, at 
my residence near Aurora, Cayuga Co., N. Y,. on THURSDAY, 
June 11th, 1857. (sale to commence at I o'clock, P. M.,) my entire 
Herd of SmuiT-uottNBii Carn.it. vi»., Three Bull* and Right 
Cow* and llcifors. Also, Seventeen Suffolk and Two Betkshire 
Hog*, and Two yonng Black Hawk Stallions Catalogue* can 
now bo had by applying lo me by moil. All my *tock have per¬ 
fect Pedigree* and ar., equal, if not superior, to any similar lot 
over offered Tor sale. 
THOR GOULD, Anrora, Cayuga Co., N. Y. 
M, B. Kerr, Auctioneer. 88lw4eow 
KEUZIH'S 
LAKE, It AIN AND ItIVKR WATER FILTERS. 
H ave been r.N use for sixteen years, and in 
all pari* of the United Stales and the Canada*, have given 
the highest satisfaction. They are scientific in tbetr construc¬ 
tion, Portable, Durable and Cheap. For Circular* with particu- 
lnra, address J. K. CHENEY A CO., 
381eowtf 
Rochester, N. Y. 
BOYS’ TAILOR. 
B OYS' CLOTHES OF P.VF.RY DESCRIPTION MADE 
to order iu the test manner and in the most fashionable style 
at very Itnp prices Particular atf ritlon paid In cnrtlug tor mon 
or boys. Vf. W. FAK8ELLS at CLARKSON'S, 
3&2wl0 and 27 Arcade Gallery. Rochester. 
OLCOTT dfc VAIL’S 
W ESTCHESTER FARM SCHOOL, Mount Yemen, West¬ 
chester Co., New Y’orlt. Instruction given in Practical 
and Scientific Agriculture. Circulars will be sunt on applica¬ 
tion a* above. 3s3w4 
C OMMERCIAL AGENTS WANTED.—Able and honest men 
from New England or New York. 
382if A. W. HARRISON, Philadelphia, Pa. 
J. SAGE cfc SONS, 
LIT1IO tlK A I’ll KHS AN I» ENGRAVERS, 
20i» Main Street, Buffalo, 
OVER SAG-H’S MUSIC STORE. 
8. A . KI.LISI 
W HIP AN1) GLOVE STORE, 78 STATE STREET, 
Rochester, N. V. Having purchased the Retail trade of 
wb*t ha* long been known a* Huong's Whip and Glove Store, I 
WHIPS, GLOVES, CANES AND UMBRELLAS, 
In the city. I shall keep a larger and better assortment of these 
goods titan has ever before been kept here. 
Ladies will Ibid It to thuir advantage to call and look at my 
assortment of Kid Gloves 
ACililOMATIV MICROSCOUBS. 
T he subscribers invite attention to their 
superior Achromatic Single ami Compound Microscope*, 
that hav« obtained the commendation of tbe most eminent sci¬ 
entific mon of America, and tor which they have received the 
premlnm* of the New York Exhibition of 1853, and cd the Ct. 
Hi >te Agricultural Bocl-ty of 1 ■AH. 
Vim.n Microscopes range from lorros of the greatest possible 
simplicity, to those combining the most clnhcruta ol modern 
improvement*. 
They cal) particular attention to their " Smull Micro'cope* for 
Students,'’ which are provided with objectives sufficient lor all 
ordinary and even for professional Investigations, and of a 
quality uover before eold by any foreign or American maker, at 
prices comp are lively *o low. 
Descriptive Priced Catalogue* will bn sent free of charge on 
application. J. As W. OHCNOW, 
April tD, 1837 —| ml) Haven, Ct. 
New Haven, Ct. 
50,000 ACRES OF VIRGINIA LANDS IN MARKET 
K, THE UNDERSIGNED AGENTS, OFFER A LARGE 
It number d valuable ami well Improved fertns iu Eastern 
Va, embracing almost every advantage of soil, water, timber, 
climate, society. healthlneM., with the advantage* of rapid tran¬ 
sit over oplondtd Railroad* to the market* ou the seaboard aud 
citio* on our navigable river*, by a (ravel genentlly ol from two 
to lour hours rlfie These land* are lying In different counties 
on the slope, Irom the Blue Ridge to tide water, and generally 
in full view of those lovely llluo Mountain* so much admired 
by all traveler*, und which divide thn Piedmont region from the 
A alloy of Va. Wt. have also fot ski" some splendid water 
powers tiuely located for trudo- A lengthy description of the 
abore propertris ont ol the question In a uuwspnpur advertise¬ 
ment. Wo will promptly answer all corUtnnnlvAtfonS addressed 
to u* by those wl»hlng to purchase any of the above named 
pro party if they will Inform us the extent of the means they 
rvir.li W invest, the *l*e and kind of farm. Wo bav* trai ts 
varying from 250 to I.IMU acre* We have SBljKHl aero* of limber 
lands lor sale, which will give employ incut to timber getters for 
the next half century. 
S7lwt-Iarnlt THEODORE N. DAVIRSON A CO, 
Mitchells Station, Orange & Alexandria it R., Culpepper Co,Ya 
SCHENECTADY AGRICULTURAL WORKS. 
M anufacture i m proved rau.wav horse 
Powera. Threshers and Separators, Combined Threshers 
and Winnowers, Clover Dullers, and Sawing Machines. 
l'he undersigned having boon twenty year* engaged in build¬ 
ing llonm t’uwrr* and Threshing Machine*, feel cnnfl dent,from 
mint experience, ami the ntimeruu* testimonials we are receiv¬ 
ing from all parts of the country, of the superiority of our ma¬ 
chines. that wo can give ,atlr.friction to all who may favor us 
with their order*. Our Uonm Power* are made substantial,and 
so geared that it require* ilnj team lo travel only about It* miles 
per hour, thereby making it suitable to workeltber horses or 
cattle on them Ou r Threshers and Threshers and W Innowcrs ore 
so constructed a* to discharge all the grain and dast through the 
machine, and not Into the render', face, «* is usual w ith other 
kinds The Thresher and Winnower bus a revolving wire sepa¬ 
rator. which does the work more perfectly than can be done in 
any other way. Tbe Separator (Riddle) ha* a loth »tiaw shaker, 
which shako* the grain out of llio straw, as H passes Rom the 
Thresher. 
Wo warrant these machines to suit 1b • purchaser upon trial, 
or they can be returned, and thu money will bo refunded. 
U. WKHTINGHDUHK A CO. 
Schenectady, N. Y-, March, 1H57. Z73-5wlara 
HAY AND CATTLE SCALES. 
( 1 KEAT REDUCTION OK PRICKS 11 THKHK “ STAND- 
J ms Scat-inf' are now within the reach of every Farmer.— 
For $I0U we will furnish a 3 tun scale, platform, i by 12 feet 
Every scale Is tta'ui by thn U. S. SUnulaul weight*, and tea mint- 
si A full description will be souk to any part of llte country, 
free of postage, upon application. 
372-1 amtf DURYEK A FORSYTH, 
Manufacturing Go., Rochester, N. Y. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
TB* I.KADIKO WIRKI.T 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper, 
is PDBt.ismto gy«nr satutgut 
BY D. ». T. MOOKE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite the Court House, 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dobbin* x Yeah —$1 fot six month*. To Clubs and 
Agents as follows :— 1 Three Copies one year, for $0 ; Six Copies 
(and ono to Agent or getter up or Club,I for $10; Ten Copies (and 
one to Agent.) fur $15, and any additional number at the same 
rata, ($1,50 por copy) As we are obliged to pro pay the Ameri¬ 
can postage ou paper* sent to the British Provinces, our Cana¬ 
dian agents and frimid* ata*l add 1cents per copy to Lie 
club rata* of tho Kuttab. 
V Til* postage on the Ruasb I* Only S>* oente per quarter to 
any part of this Htate, (except Monroe county, where It goes 
free.) and cents to any section ot the United States—payable 
quarterly Iu udvaneo at the office where received. 
|-y Subscriber* wishing their papers changed from on* Post 
Ofilco to another. *honld bo particular tu specifying the oilices 
at which thoy are now roceived, 
AnvEirnKitta—Brior and appropriate advertisements will be 
Inserted at 25 ceuls a Hue, each Insertion, payable In advance. 
Our rule 1* lo glvo no advertisement, unless very brief, more 
than lour consecutive Insertion*. Patent Medicines, Ac., atu 
not advorilaod In tho Rural on any condition*. 
VtiMd'u'uSjf'P'S’U'U'l./WWW'P'O'UWji'OVtFU' 
