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MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. 
JULY 18 . 
THE ROSE OF ALL TBE WORLD. 
BY GERALD MASSEY. 
All in our marriage garden 
Grew, smiling up to God, 
A bonnier flower than ever 
Suckt the green wamtli of the sofl. 
O beautiful rmlnthomably 
Its little life UDfut led ; 
Life’s crown of sweetness was our wee 
White Rose of all the worl A 
From out a gracious bosom. 
Our bud of beauty grew ; 
It fed on smiles for sunshine 
And tears for daintier d w. 
Aye nestling warm and tenderly, 
Our leaves of love were cnrled 
So close and close about our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 
Two flowers of glorious crimson 
Grew with our Rose of light; 
Still kept the sweet heaven grafted slip 
Her whiteness saintly white. 
I* the wind of life they danced with glee. 
And reddened as they whirled; 
White, white and wondrous grew our wee 
White Robb of all the world. 
With mystical faint fragrance. 
Our house of life she filled— 
Revealedl each hour some fairy tower, 
Where winged Hopes might build. 
We saw —though none like us might see— 
Such precious promise pearled 
Upon the petals of our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 
But evermore the halo 
Of Angel-light increased; 
Like the mystery of Moonlight, 
Th at folds some fairy feet. 
Snow-white, snow soli, snow-silently, 
Our darling bud up-curled, 
And dropt i’ the Grave—God’s lap—our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 
Our Rose was but in blossom ; 
Onr life was but Id spring; 
When down the solemn midnight 
We heard the 8pirlts sing: 
■« Another bud of Infancy, 
With holy dews impearled j" 
And in their hands they bore our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 
You scarce could think so small a thing 
Could leave a loss so large ; 
Her little light such shadow fling, 
From dawn to sunset’s marge. 
In other springs our life may be 
In banner bloom unlurled; 
But never, never match our wee 
White Rose of all the world. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE SONG OF THE ANGELS. 
BY JENNY MARSH PARKER. 
“Alice! Alice!” 
The voice was neither harsh nor soft, but kindly 
impatient. It came from the old lady who stood 
before the cottage window kneading her biscuits 
for tea. Twice already she had brushed the flour 
from her hands, and once balf-smiling gone to the 
door leading up to the attic and called that name 
without receiving an answer; and again, half- 
frowning, she had left her work, looked Beriously 
at the clock and the fast declining sun, and repeat¬ 
ed it a little more shrilly from the garden gate 
that opened into a meadow whose thick clustering 
oaks and elms, and noisy babbling brook with its 
tempting velvety banks, offered a rare inducement 
to idle dreamers. But that was more than a half 
mother was alive to tell me what to do with the 
child. Twelve years old and can hardly sew a 
seam, and never knit but two pair of stockings in 
her life. Yes, I must barn up her books, and keep 
her out of the meadows and woods.” 
The table was spread and the two wooden chairs 
placed on either side of it, aud then grandma took 
her knitting from her pocket, so as to lose no time 
before the biscuits were done. She did not sit 
down as was her custom in her old-fashioned rock¬ 
ing chair, but plying her fingers busily she walked 
through the garden to the meadow gate, and there 
called out the name of Alice several timeB as 
loud as she could. 
The pure June air, heavily laden with the smell 
of the new mown hay, caught the sweet name aud 
swiftly floating down the winding meadow path,— 
underneath the sweeping branches of the willows, 
and the training viaes of the wild grapes,—past 
the broad shadows of the oaks and elms, dose by 
the side of the noisy brook, came at last to a hid¬ 
den dell, so hidden that even the sunshine had to 
straggle to get in,—ard thereon the soft green 
turf, close to the water’s edge,—so dose that the 
ripples were striving and striving to kiss a pair of 
little bare feet, they found the lassie in whose ear 
they were to whisper their burden. Starting at 
the sound, she quickly lifted her large brown eyes 
from the page before her, and shaking back the 
unfettered hair that had fallen upon her face, she 
looked up to the sky, as if thinking the voice had 
fallen from above. Rut the repetition of the 
sound fully undeceived her, and staring half wildly 
about ber as her thoughts wandered out of their 
dream, she slowly closed her book, gave a most 
i unromantic yawn which aroused the large dog 
that waB sleeping beside her. He heard the third 
call that grandmother gave, sprang to his feet, aud 
pricking up his ears seemed perfectly to under¬ 
stand the summons. 
Alice did not obey so readily. She looked 
loviDgly at the sky, the guarding trees, the laugh¬ 
ing brook, she even pattered the water with her 
feet, and took time to wish that she was the little 
bird that was singing so sweetly over her head, 
for he could be in the fields and woods all the day, 
and sing as long and loud as he wished without 
even a thought of washing dishes, ironing, sewing, 
or bringing home the cows and milking them.— 
Yes, she did wish that she was a bird, a lark that 
sang soaring and soaring until it was lost in the 
Bky. Ah! child dreamer, you never thor jht of its 
dropping to the earth again.' 
“ Well, Bouncer,’’said she, laughing and stroking 
the faithful old fellow upon his silky head, “what 
will grandmother say to usto-nigbt, I wonder? It 
is most sun-down, aud I must go and get the cows 
and milk them and take them back again, besides 
ironing up a lot of things before I go to bed. This 
is a work-day world isn’t it Bouncer?” 
But Bouncer was not at all inclined to be senti¬ 
mental, and after lapping a copious draught from 
the brook, set his mistress the example of return¬ 
ing home by bounding off in that direction. She 
lightly followed, swinging her sun-bonnet by the 
strings, and holding the book she had been read¬ 
ing in an unconscious affectionate embrace. 
When Alice approached the garden gate she 
saw her grandmother standing there awaiting her 
coming. The child felt half guilty for the manner 
in which she had spent the day, yet the delight 
she had reveled in and the blissful reveries that 
were even then whispering about her heart, gave 
her a justification. Yet the first words she spoke 
when she came within her grandmother’s hearing 
were these, accompanied with a half sorry halt 
playful expression. 
“Do forgive me, grandma, for I did forget all 
about the ironing and everything. I’ll wash up 
the dishes so nicely, and get the cows bo quick 
that you will love me after all;” and she put up 
her rosy month for the kiss that was warmly given. 
Grandma was looking very sober indeed. 
“ My dear child,” Bald she,laying her hand upon 
hour agone, aud when the old lady saw the sun the volume Alice held so closely, “give me that 
but a short journey above the western woodland, 
and yet no reply to her Bummonp, she rolled and 
cut out her biscuits rather nervously, and talked 
to herself in the meanwhile, 
“ Well, I don’t know what to think of the child. 
She is the queerest critter 1 ever did see. Just 
like as not she has been within two feet of me 
ever since I first began to call, but those books can 
make her deaf as a hammer. I’ll born ’em up— 
book. You have got to be very idle, and I am 
ashamed when 1 think of the little work yon do. 
You must do better hereafter, and so I shall take 
away your books.” 
“Oh don’t, grandma!” came faintly from the 
lipB of the down-cast child—faintly because she 
knew the firmness of her grandmother’s determi¬ 
nation. 
“I do it for your good, Alice,” and grandma’s 
yes, I will, for my talking does no good, not a bit.” eyes grew moist and her voice tremulous. “ Your 
Then she fell into silence again, and her thoughts 
came aDd pictured themselves upon her face. It 
was a kindly face, one that the motherless loved 
to look at, and from which the out-cast and heart¬ 
broken never feared a frown. Her hair was very 
white; nearly seventy winters bad snowed upon 
it, and the deep wrinkles, if they were of care and 
sorrow, aud only sterotyped by age, were so soft¬ 
ened by the meek dove-like expression of the dim 
blue eyes and the mouth, that one was led to be¬ 
lieve, that if her feet had pressed the thorns, her 
foot-prints were a path of contentment and happi 
ness. She had been bom and brought up among 
mother would feel very bad were she living now, 
to know how you wasted your time. When she was 
of your age she was a good house-keeper, and 
made all of her own clothes, and helped me to 
make shirts sometimes.” 
“But, grandma, - Alice had not the 
courage or the power to give utterance to her 
thought. Silently she walked by her grandmother's 
Bide, the big tears rolling off her cheeks, and her 
breast heaving with the tumultuous conflict with¬ 
in. That was a very sad communion with her un¬ 
tried heart. 
After tea, when the dishes were washed and pnt 
not frown upon one that smiled so often and so ( 
sweetly up to it. 8 
Only for a tew moments did Alice lie upon her 
face, bnt within that time she suffered more than j 
she ever had before in all ber life. It washer first 
keen realization of ber existence, and the cher- * 
ished hopes and aspirations that.—born in her ' 
soul, planted there by ber Gon,—had been growing 
unthwarted until, to yield them up, as ^things to 1 
which she had no rightful claim upon, and to sap- ( 
plant them by something foreign to their nature * 
and her own, was a blow that has staggered and ' 
shattered many a riper heart, and God grant our 
little Alice to bear it. 
Soon the sobs grew less frequent and distinct, 1 
Alice raised her head from the ground, and laid 1 
it upon the curly neck of Bouncer, who always 
wagged hiB tail and blinked his good-natured 
eyes at this accustomed manifestation of the love 
of his mistress. She lay there silent for several 
moments, her swollen eyes, then tearless, wander¬ 
ing with the fleecy clouds that drifted across a 
distant aperture through the trees. Her face was 
very sad, yet one could see, that with her thoughts 
the sunshine was breaking on her heart again. 
“Dear, old Bouncer,” said she, holding up his 
bead so she could look him full in the face, “I do 
wish you could tell what I was sent into this world 
for. I don’t believe it was to work, work from 
morning to Dight, and never read a bit, do you ? 
Now, I believe that God sent ns here to be happy, 
and if we do what he intended we should, we 
shall be,—and that’s just what makes me love to 
read and sing, and talk to the birds and flowers,— 
and you, too, Bouncer,—and so dreadfully sad 
when I can do nothing of the kind. I read of 
people who have done a great deal of good in the 
world, and there is something, I cannot tell what 
it is, shut up in my heart, making it ache very 
bad sometimes, that seems to me, if it could only 
get out in the doing of something great, I should— 
well I don’t know what, for I can’t tell anything 
about it. I do wish somebody would come and 
talk to me, somebody that could know all I want 
to say, and I not speak a word. Grandma is good, 
and I do love her ; but she don’t think one bit as 
I do, and I can’t talk to her ; I can only tell it to 
you, dear old dog, and the trees, the sky and the 
flowers, and I do wish you could talk back again.” 
Bouncer seemed to say he wished he could : Alice 
thought so. 
During her short Bilence, her thoughts pro¬ 
gressed. When she spoke again, it was not to her 
dog, but an unconscious revelation of her reverie. 
“I am happy here with Grand ma, bnt if I could 
only go out into the world and do something. I 
read about persons who had, I know, this very 
feeling in their hearts, but they did not shut it up 
and keep it from growing, but they gave up every¬ 
thing to it, and the world will never forget them. 
I wonder if I shall ever do anything in the world ? 
Aye, child dreamer, gazing so longingly up to the 
sky, but your words bespeak a sad prophecy for 
one so young. To go out into the world with 
ambition for a guide, and that something in the 
heart to nerve by its aching. Ab, Alice, child 
hoper, what have you read of such ? 
“ Oh, I know what I would do,” continued she, 
in a firmer tone, her eyes brightening to a wild 
brilliancy as she spoke. “I would sing,—yes, I 
would sing. I would not oare for money, or fame, 
but I would try to make bad men good, the un¬ 
happy happy, and to have people love me. I 
could do it, / know 1 could, for I would pray to 
Gon about it, and he would help me, for I beiieve 
he has been very near to me sometimes, when I 
was singing the Gloria in Excelsia here in the 
woods. My heart has been so full of heaven that 
I could almost think I was singing with the angels 
to the Shepherds of Judea.” 
Forgetting the cows, her grand-mother, and the 
approaching twilight, and obeying the wild, pas¬ 
sionate impulse of her soul, she hurst forth with 
a voice of sweet and thrilling power, in that 
heavenly anthem of adoration,—“Glory be to God 
on high, and on earth peace, good will towards 
mem” Asshe sang her whole appearance changed. 
She was no longer sad, weeping Alice, but seemed 
transfigured not unlike the shining oneB who 
brought that glad hymn to all mankind ; and 
when Blie ceased, the murmur of the brook, aud 
the rustling of leaves down the woody aisles were 
like the low and solemn response of a great 
congregation. 
The distant lowing of cows caught her ear.— 
She started to her feet, half smiling at her forget¬ 
fulness, yet the dove-like peace that was folding 
round her spirit, the pure radiance of whose 
wings was upon, her beautiful face did not chide 
her lor ber delay. “Come Bouncer,” said she j 
alter calling him from a chase in the woods, 
“why didn’t you give some sign that it was time 
to go ? You knew I was growing happy again 
didn’t you, and you thought it was best I should ? 
Well, Bouncer, I am going to let God do with me 
just as He pleases ; aud if grandma does burn up 
my books, and keep me at my tedious work all 
day, I’ll be hoping that it will all come out right 
in the end; wouldn’t you. Bouncer?” But as 
could, and hasten to where the benign old lady j 
sat in her rocking chair, ever industrious with 
her knitting or sewing; and when she could not 
do that, for perchance she would be at the wash- 
tub, or hoeing potatoes, or scrubbing the cottage 
floor, she would burst out in a merry Bong, that 
would oftentimes sound very sad. The fair vernal 
hills in the fairy-land of her soul-dreams, were 
day by day growing dimmer and dimmer, and 
often the snow drifted over them. Tell me, hearts 
of experience, could she iu the world, the great 
world to which she longed to go forth, discipline 
her brave soul by a sterner conflict? Was it not 
wisely ordered for her to become heroic ere en¬ 
countering foes that weakness and cowardice may 
never master ? 
[Concluded next week.] 
ffonllj's Conur. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of sixteen letters. 
My 4,14,10 is to shut up. 
My 12, 6, 9, 3,15,1 is a man’s name. 
My 1, 2, 14, 7 i&an adverb of time. 
My 13, 3, 16,1 is that which is loft. 
My 16,1, 6, 10, 8 is a small grallatory bird. 
My 11, 9, 7,11, 3,13 is a plant, the dried roots of 
which are used for various purposes in medicine. 
My 11, 0, v. 16, 14, 10,11, is a plant, of the geDus 
Panax, the root of which is in great demand 
among the Chinese. 
My whole is the dread of tyrants and of villains, 
but the Bhield of freedom and of worth. 
Homer, N. Y , 1857. Feed. A. Gee. 
jSST* Answer next week. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
My first is always found in meat, 
When this is taken the rest is eat; 
My second you can find in fish, 
When they are cooked and in a dish. 
My third is always found in flesh, 
Salted down, or taken fresh, 
My fourth and last in cake is chary, 
My whole is the ground-work of the dairy. 
Adams, N. Y , 1857. G. W. F. 
Answer next week. 
- -- 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
Being on a horizontal plane and wanting to as¬ 
certain the height of a tree standing on the top of 
an inaccessible hill, there were measured the angle 
of elevation of top of the hill 40°, and of the top 
of tree 61°, then measuring iu a direct line 180 
feet farther from the hill the angle of elevation of 
the top of the tree was 33°—45'. Required the 
height of the tree. h. d. d. 
BenDetteburg, N, Y., 1857. 
jZgp' Auswer next week. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 392:— 
The Scourge of the Tongue. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma in No. 392:— 
A soft auswer turneth away wrath. 
Answer to Charade in No. 392:—Shipwreck. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem in No. 392:— 
9 o'clock, 49 minutes, 6 6 11 seconds. 
A WORD TO THE BOYS. 
ADVERTISEMENTS. 
TI1E EXCELSIOR 
RAILROAD HORSE POWER, 
With Threshers, Separata/ s, Cleaners, Clover Flut¬ 
ters and Circular and Cross-Cut Saw-Metis 
for various purposes, aud all other Im¬ 
plements adapted to the Vomer, 
I S not SURPASSED BY ANY NOW IN UKK, and is offered 
on the most liberal terms, both a* to discount and warranty. 
The subscriber is manufacturing tie above Power, which com¬ 
bines all the qualities of I tin most celebrated Railroad Horse - 
Powers, and eotne very valuable Improvement*. 
CArAOTTV, Economy and Wakk.vsty.—T he Single Power will 
thresh from Urn to 17u bushel* of OaU, Rye. Buckwheat or Rar. 
ley, cinrtly, in one day, atteuded by thus men, and will saw 
from 2U to 25 cords or wood In ills aaim. time nut) with th© §«nifl 
number of mon Tho Double Power will perform double the 
amount nt work in tho name time, with one additional man— 
and all other work or a utmllnr kind with equal facility. The 
com munion of tho Power !» *uch that It can be changed from 
a right to a left hand machine, and ibo rsvcrreti, at pu-aenre, an 
the geai» arc all outside the Power and accessible at all times 
The angle of elevation necessary to operate lids Power I* never 
greater, but often let s than any other Power, which l» Inside of 
one iind-a-hxlf Inches to tho foot, with horse* weighing l.UUU tbs 
each, and without any harm:**. 
These Powers have been severely tented, and pronounced 
•' Kxeclator," which, of course, nonius " Excelled by none," and 
their performancq 1* a lufflclwit evidence of (bsto anperlorlty 
over the common Endless Chain Powers 
The Warranty Is as follows:—If tile PowerR do not answer the 
description, anil do any reasonable amount of work required of 
them, tho money will be refunded and tho machines returned at 
the manufacturer'* expense. .. 
CAT A cunts Wanted, to whom a liberal commission will bo 
chrii RICHARD M. PEASE 
Albany, N. Y, 1857. SSSwIoow 
ACHROMATIC MICROSCOPES. 
T he bubscribkrh invite attention to their 
superior Achromatic Single and Compound Microscope*-, 
that have obtained tho commendation of tho most eminent sci¬ 
entific men of America, and for which they have received the 
premiums of the Now York Exhibition of 1853, ftud of the Ct. 
Those Microscopes range from forms of tho greatest possible 
stmplleliy, to those combining the most elaborate of modern 
Lmprovatnsnt*. „ 
They call particular attention to their •• Small Microscopes for 
Student*," which are provided with objectives sufficient lor all 
ordinary and even for professional investlgalions, and of a 
quality never bclore sold by any foreign or American maker, at 
prices comparatively so low. 
Descriptive Priced Catalogues will be sent free of charge on 
application. J. Ac W. tlKUNUW, 
April 2 d, lS57—<38S-m4) New Haven, Ct. 
SCHENECTADY AGIHOCL.TITHAT. WORKS. 
M anufacture improved railway horsk 
P owers, Thmshors and Separators, Cotnblued Threshers 
and Winnowers. Clover Hulls*®, and Sawing Machines. 
The undersigned having been twenty years engaged in build¬ 
ing Horse Powers and Threshing Machines, feel coofioent.from 
past experience, nml the ntliDcroflH luJjtfraoiiJalf we are receiv- 
log from all parts ol th® country, of tho superiority of onr ma¬ 
chines. that we can give satisfaction to all who may favor ns 
with their orders. Onr Horse Power* arc made substantial, and 
so geared that It rcqutToe tho team to travel only about It; miles 
per hour, thereby making !t suitable to work either horses or 
eatt.io ovt them Onr Thrcahc*!* and Thrw*!»»>r?i and W Iwnowttr* aw> 
so constructed ns to discharge all the grain and dun through the 
marMjie, and not Into the feeder’s face, at is usual with other 
kinds Tim Thresher and Winnower has a revolving wire r.opn- 
rator. wbv*h doe* the wor k more correctly than can be done In 
any other The Separator (Riddle) has alork straw shaker, 
which shake* ri-e grain out of the straw, as it passes from the 
Thresher. 
We warrant these machines to suit th * purchaser npoa trial, 
or they can be returned, and the c0 . 
Schenectady, N. Y., Marsh, 1857. VT73-5wlam 
IIA%’ ANII CATTLE SCALES. 
G reat reduction of pkjoe8 i i there •• stand- 
ARP Scales" are now within the -each o# every Farmer.— 
For $HKi we will rnrni»h a 3 tun seal,,, platform, I by 12 feet. 
Every- scale 1b sta'td by the V. S Sf.rndar.i vslght*. mid warrant- 
ui A full description will be sent to any pen of the country, 
free of pottage, upon application. 
372-1 amtf DITRYEK A FORSYTH, 
Manufacturing Co.. Rm-hrsu • N. Y. 
MORRIS’ PERFECT CHAIN PUMP. 
T his pump, just patented, is entirely suc¬ 
cessful It works without friction, never Deere*, and does 
not lose a drop of water. The water flows the Instant the crank 
ie turned. This improvement can bo attached to the common 
chain pnmp, and then it is a perfect machine, with which a 
small child cau raise water from any depth. Attachments, 1 umps, 
and Right* for Sale Full description by addrei.-ing 
J. B. It ROW N. Proprietor, U27 Market St, Philo., Pa. 
VIIE ORIENTAL MOUSE CHARMER, for Taming, 
6 copies $1. Address C J. KLDRIDUE, Cincinna i. O. 
Mailed to every part of the U. S. 3{Mw2eow 
COL.E, ADAMS & CO., 
(Successors to William N.Saok.) Bookseller*, Stationers, and 
Dealers In Printer*' Stock, No bl BuBaloSt, Rochester, N Y. 
a. n cots. w. a adavs _ <;. p. adams 
SABEY & BUCHAN, 
Dealers in Hats, Cays and Funs, nt tho " Old Premium Hat 
Store," No. 23 State street, Rochester, N. \. SSI 
RAPAUJE & GO'S 
Genesee Seed and Agricultural WAiitnocst, 05 Buffalo 
St. Rochester, N Y, and Po.t Hope. O, W. Agricultural 
Implements, Machines, Ac., at Wholesale aud Retail, import- 
ed nnd home grown Gaideu, Field and riowor Needs. oo7 
Come, Boys, aud listen a few moments to your 
ancle. You have now arrived at an age when you 
must begin to think about doing something for 
yourselves. The first piece of advice I have for 
you is,to do everything well, which you undertake. 
There ie but little danger of your beiug too partic¬ 
ular in this respect, A boy who is careful to draw 
a straight line on his slate, will be very likely to 
make a straight line through life. There is qp po¬ 
sition in life in which you will not be called upon 
to be as exact as possible. Step into a jeweller’s 
Bbop, and see how careful the workmen most he iu 
finishing up the article he holds in bia bauds.— 
Visit a ship yard, and the man with tho broad axe 
muBt learn to hew on the line or be dismissed.— 
You think of being a clerk. Well, remember that 
a mistake there, iB little lesB than a crime. I never 
saw a man who was very particular about his af¬ 
fairs that was not successful. How exact is the 
military officer in the command of a body of meu. 
A clumsy sailor will never rise to the command of 
a ship. 
But there is one great danger which beseta many 
young men at the present day. It is the disposi¬ 
tion to avoid all Bolid improvement, and take up 
with subjects that require no thought, and which 
serve as mere excitements to the mind. Your old¬ 
er friends tell you that boys were very fastboyBloDg 
before you were born; but they never made solid 
and useful men. Very few ol' them ever lived to 
be forty yearB old. Nobody ever trusted them.— 
- “ * T» , . . j, 1U bile UliU j UUUtuu v -- * —- IJU IUriY YUO.ID VMM* f’wouu; WVA VIU.3WU *-uv*aa. 
the lowly ones of earth. Her wisdom was of the away, A lick called Bouncer and they started oil were t^unying away her faith and courage T ^ ev neY er filled aoy important office or Btati oo. 
•L a A Y.yt Awnm-iovtAA .... v., r* OiD i il tint 11*1 IV 1 i rrVi t \ \r u Inner ’ . J 1 
heart, and garnered by experience, and she knew 
and caied but little for that which the mind ac¬ 
quires from books. Alice was ber only one—ber 
comfort and ber darling. She called her, her ow^ 
and could not bear to think that in truth she was 
not, only when memory brought back to her the 
sun beam of her first married years—the long 
dead Marion, whose daughter Alice was. 
The biscuits were in the oven, and the little ta^ 
ble neatly cleared off, and then grandma spread 
the white cloth over it and brought from the cor¬ 
ner cupboard the somewhat dingy and cracked 
earthern ware—plates, cups and saucers, and 
knives for two. Every time she passed the door 
she would pause a little and look anxiously down 
the garden path as if she expected some one from 
that direction. She began whispering to herself 
again; a concerned expression settled upon her 
faoe, and at last she was talking aloud. 
“Yes, I must do something before things get 
any worse. 1 don’t want to trouble the child, in¬ 
deed I don’t, but she will never be good for any¬ 
thing at this rate. I almost wish there wasn’t a 
book in the world, except the Bible, and Pilgrim’s 
Pi ogress, and Saint’s Iiest, and the Prayer Book. I 
never didhearanybodysingusshedocH. Mr.BKAED 
says it makes him think of some great somebody 
that sang for the queen in London. Well, I don’t 
doubt of it, not a bit ***** I wish her 
for the cows. She did not trip lightly along, 
warbliDg songs with a sweetness that the wild 
birds might envy, but her step wan heavy, and her 
eyes, when the tears did not blind them, saw only 
the path at her feet. Once or twice she ventured 
to look up to the sky, but the weight of her un¬ 
uttered sorrow bowed her head upon her breast 
again. 
She must needs cross the spot where she bad 
whiled away ber afternoon. At first she seemed 
intending to avoid it, and reluctantly her steps 
withdrew from the well known and beloved path, 
but suddenly 6he stopped short—a moment’s inde¬ 
cision, and she bouuded back, darting through the 
must have failed her somewhat, for she murmured 
in an undertone, “I can’t give up my Sh akspeaue, 
or Plutarch’s Lives; I wonder if it would be 
wrong to hide them. I don’t believe it would.” 
No one would have thought, had they seen 
Alice tripping through the meadow grass, her 
sweet childish face often upturned to the sky, that 
there was a heavy hope-burden upon her pure 
heart She tried to think there was not, and 
carolled the merriest songs she knew, as slits drove 
the cows to the dairy yard, and getting the 
brightly scoured tin pail, proceeded to milk them, 
without a thought of aversion. Bat that might 
grove with the lightness of a fawn, and springing have been, aud wo really think it was. because slit- 
upon the soft turf only to throw herself upon her kept singing all the while, and would not listen to 
face and give way to a wild and passionate flood what her heart was saying. ter wm your prospeexs ue ior a succor — 
of tears. Bouncer followed, and when he saw her The weeks, months and years went by, and -Transcript Eclectic. 
lying thus prostrate, and beard her violent sobs, A lice with her great hopes prisoned In her brave - 
l. drooped ti. sb»t! g , toil, ood wild »o air of heart-prUoned no KroagU that they straggled ,. 7°”"^!<, SrLS of co«,m ” 
deep concern rubbed his nose across her neck and ^oh it seemed to her, “But what are yon going to send it to the editor 
^The'broo^cliangmi 08 ^ laughing to a sad mar- although she thanked God for every day Bbe lived, for?” “ ’Cause he says if anybody will send him a 
mnr, when it heard its playmate sobbing so bitter- with a step growing less elastic, her head bowing club he 
ly; aud the little birds, instead of warbling joy- lower, aud that something which could only speak mother came w thjokbe 
fully as they ever had before, fluttered around in her dreams, becoming an icy we.ght in her ness to ask.- Bu Hommy 
thefr nests, and chirped most like a wail. The breast Dearly she loved her grandmother, and wants with a club? WOh d k « 
trees waived their boughs mournfully, aud only when she felt the shadow of discontentment steal- the hopeful urchin d ° Wn 
the clear blue sky remained unchanged, it could iug npon her, she would take her work if she subscribers who won t pay for thur paper. 
They usually became small men, because they 
had no capital in their heads with which to work 
out a living. Out of fifty of that class of fast boys 
I do not know of one who ever accomplished much. 
As you sow, so shall you reap. The boy who Bpeuds 
his hours late and early at the card table, bowling 
alley, or tavern bar room, is learning nothing use 
fol, but much that Is injurious. Listen to such 
men as Amos Lawrence, Thomas H. Benton, Daniel 
Webster, Benjamin Franklin and George Washing- 
ion, and they will all tell yon that they avoided all 
these things, aud owed their greatness to their at¬ 
tention in early life to what would be useful to them. 
This may bo a hard lesson for you, but it must bo 
studied, and the earlier in life you acquire lt,the bet¬ 
ter will your prospects be for a successful career. 
— 'lVanscript and Eclectic, 
* ■ » 
“ Tommy, my son, what are you going to do with 
that club?” “Bend it to the editor, of course.” 
“ But what are you going to send it to the editor 
lor?” “’Cause he says if anybody will send him a 
club he will send them a copy of his paper.” The 
BRIG GS & BROTH Eli, 
IMPORTERS AND Growers. *nd Wliul««alo and Retail Denlera 
In Garden, Field and Flower Seed*, an dHorU cult oral In'P'o- 
menu, 85 Statu St.. KoohcBior, Y. I *7" S.-.-Ia famlshedon 
coin till*Mon. Choice Peas and Kean* at Wtini.sa.e SSI 
J. E. CHENEY at CO., 
Manufacturers or Kedziis Water Klltara, Thermometers, 
Dealer* in liO"*o Ptind.Miinn Goods of ovury doBcription, 
No*. 59 and 61 State St, Rochmrier, N. \ ._ 
ADAMS, HASTINGS & McVEAN, 
Genesee Paper Mill*, Manufacturers ot ISoolt. Printing and 
WrjinniuK Paper, nml l)<Mtlere» tn Flue 1*HP**T» Printer* NtocR, 
Ink*. Straw- Board, do Warehouse. No b9 Stato St, Roches¬ 
ter. nr* Gtixh paid for Rag*. Sirring. Rope Ac. _ _ 
ERA ST US DAliltOW & BROTHER, 
BOOK SILLERS. Publishers and Stationer*. Ojbnrn Uouso 
mock, Roche!ter, N Y„ Wholesale and Retail Dealer* in 
School, Medico). Religion". Sunday School, Mt-icellauepM 
and Now Hoot,-. Writing Paper, Slnt-R, Slaw 1 cadis. 1 rhit- 
llig Ink, Ac Orders from Dealer* solicited SSI 
BOOARDUS Ac LEWIS, 
OPERATIVE LITHOGRAPHERS & ENGRAVERS, 
280 MAIN BT., HUFFALO, N. Y. 
J D. Booarpus.1 13S0WC1 _ |Joseph Lewi*. 
1 J. SAGE & SONS, 
LITHOGRAl'UKKH ano knukavkks, 
200 Main 8trkkt, BcrrALO, 
OVER SAGrB’S M USIC STORE. 
REMOVAL. 
TF-IiWISJCIS <5c LOUTREL, 
Stationers, Printers and Hook - Binders, 
Have Removed from their Old Stand to the Now 8tore 
No. 45 Maiden Lane, 
[ [tear Nassau St-, New- Fork ] 
t'ET Wo supply everything in our line. Orders receive 
prompt attention. _ 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LEADING WEEKI.T 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper, 
in rouusiiED every Saturday 
BY ». ». T. MOO It K, ROOM K8TKH, N. Y. 
Offluo, Holm Hulldlngo, Oppoallo Lhe Court IIou»e- 
TEKM8, IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars A Year — $1 for elx month*. To Club* and 
Agent* an follow* Three Coplo* one year, for *» ; Cople* 
(and one to Agent or getter np of Club.) for $10. Ten Copte. (and 
one to Agent.) for $15, amt any additional nnn-oer at the «ame 
rate, ($1,50 per copy.) A* we are obliged to pre-pay the Ameri¬ 
can postage on papore MM to the Hrlttub Frovtnco*. our Cana¬ 
dian agent* aud friend* mu*t add 12* eenta per copy to th« 
club rates of the Kubal. 
* * Tu* postage on the Rural 1* only S.V( cent* per quarter t® 
any part of tfell State, (except Motuoe county, where it goe« 
free,) and 6S Cent* to any miction ot the United State*—payable 
quarterly In advance at the ottl-'o whore received 
iy Bn beer I her* wishing their paper* changed from one Pont 
OOloo to another, *boi»!d b« particular In upocitylng the office® 
at which thoy are now received. 
j-y ( . 1UB pnper* are *cnt to a* many different addressee or 
post-office* a* requested, and we writ* die names of *ubhcribor* 
on paper* If de»lred-thus Raving Agouta and Post-Maalers from 
any labor or attention In the premium!. 
Advertising.— Brier and appropriate advertisement* will be 
Inserted at 25 cent* a Uri®, each lunnrtlou, payable In advance. 
Our rule t» to give no advertisement, miles* very brief, more 
than lour consecutive insertion*. Patent Medlotne*. Ao-. 
not advertised in the Rural on any condition* 
