AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER 
some articles ia a remote part of the store, my at¬ 
tention was drawn to a morn who wan asking the 
price of various jack-knives which lay on the 
counter. As this was a very interesting subject to 
me, I approached, intending only to look at them. 
1 picked one up, opened it, examined it, tried the 
springs, felt the edge of the blade with my thumb, 
and thought I could never cease admiring their 
polished surface. Oh, if it were only mine, tho’t 
I, how happy I should be! Just at this moment, 
happening to look up, r Baw that the merchant 
had gono to change a bill for bis customer, and no 
one was observing me. For fear that I might be 
tempted to do wrong I started to replace the knife 
on the counter, but an evil spirit whispered “ Pot 
it in your pocket; quick!” Without stopping to 
think of the crime or its consequences, I hurriedly 
slipped it in my pocket, and as I did so felt ablush 
of shame burning on my cheek, but the store was 
rather dark and no one noticed it, nor did the 
merchant miss the knife. 
We soon started for home, my father giving me 
a parcel to carry. As we walked along my tbo’ts 
continually rested on the knifo, and I kept my 
hand in my pocket all the time, from a Bort of 
guilty fear that it would be seen. This, together 
with carrying the bundle in my other hand, made 
it difficult for me to keep pace with my father.— 
He noticed it and gave me a lecture about walk¬ 
ing with my hands in my pockets. 
Ah! how different were my thoughts then from 
what they were when passing the same scenes a 
few hours before. The song of the birds seemed 
joyons no longer, but sad and sorrowful as if chid¬ 
ing me for my wicked act. I could not. look my 
father in the face, for I had been heedless of his 
precepts, broken one of God’s commandments, and 
become a thief. Ab these thoughts passed through 
my mind I could hardly help crying; but conceal¬ 
ed roy feelings and tried to think of the good 
times I would have with my knife. I conld hardly 
say anything on my way home, and my father 
thinking T was either tired or sick, kindly took my 
burden and spoke soothingly to me, his guilty son. 
No sooner did we reach home than 1 retreated to 
a safe place, behind the house, to try the stolen 
knife. 1 had picked up a stick and was whittling 
it, perfectly delightful with the sharp blade which 
glided through the wood almost of itself, when 
suddenly I heard the deep, subdued voice of my 
father calling me by name, and on looking np saw 
him at the window directly over my head gazing 
down very sorrowfully at me. The stick dropped 
from my hand and with the knife clasped in the 
other I proceeded into the house. I saw by his 
looks that my father had divined alL I found him 
sitting in bia arm chair looking very pale. I 
walked directly to his side and in a low, calm voice 
he asked me where I got the knife. His gentle 
manner and kind tone went to my heart, and I 
burst into tears. As soon as my voice would al¬ 
low me, I made a full confession. He did not flog 
Lissetts, burdened with dread apprehensionsfor 
her beloved mistress, was anxiously leaning npon 
the garden gate hesitating whether to follow the 
weak invalid or not, when she was startled by the 
sound of her sweet thrilling voice. Alarmed by 
this additional imprudence, she hastily ordered 
the carriage to go in the direction A lick had ta¬ 
ken. while Bbe hurried on foot across the meadow. 
Before she reached the spot the singing ceased, 
but the far-off hills were loathe to let the sweet 
echoes escape. 
Stooping under the thick vines, Ijssette at 
last reached the bower. With a shrill shriek of 
alarm she BtarteJ back. On the green soft turf 
Alice was lying, and the sweetest smiles 6he ever 
gave was on her face. She was dying,—she was 
dead. 
“She is worn out with excitement nnd fatigue,” 
said a female voice, “ The exertion she made to¬ 
night will prostrate her I fear.” 
“1 saw her an hour ago with her Troupe in the 
music Balon, receiving their warm congratulations 
with that gratitude and sweetness that makes every 
body love her so.” 
"I heard a clergyman say last evening,” said the 
enthusiastic Professor, "That if music was always 
made what it is by our prima donna thatthiswick¬ 
ed world would be the better for it.” 
This was heart ily responded to by all. 
"Where does she propose to go until next 
for she will Burely return to the stage 
TDK EXCEL 810 11 
RAILROAD HORSE POWER, 
With Threshers, Separators, Cleaners, Clover Hxd- 
lers and Circular and Cross-Cut Saw-Afills 
for various purposes, and all other Im¬ 
plements adapted to the Tower, 
TB not BCRFA881LD BV ANV NOW IN U8K, mid ie offered 
L on the moat, liberal terra*, both as to discount and warranty. 
The subscriber is monu&u'turlng the above Power, which com¬ 
bines ali the qualities of tha most celebrated Railroad Horse 
Powers, and some very valuable Improvements. 
Capacity, Economy and Wa lou.vtt.— Tho Single Power will 
thresh from llto to 17* b imho Is of Oats, Ky a, liuckwhont or Bar¬ 
ley, easily. In one day, attended by three men, and will saw 
from yu to 24 cords of wood In the namo lime and with the same 
number of men. Tho Doable Power will perform double tho 
amount of work in tho tamo time, witbona additional man— 
and all other work of a similar kind with equal facility. The 
construction of the Power Is such thatlt can bo changed from 
a tight to a left hand machine, and the reverse, at pleasure, n- 
tha gear* arc all aniiide the Power and accessible ftl alt time-u 
Tne angle of elevation necessary to operate this Power ts never 
greater, but often lent than any other Power, which Is Inside of 
one-and-a-hair Inches to tho foot, with borxo* weighing 1,000 It* 
exen, and without any harness 
Vheoo Power* have been severely tented, and pronounced 
" Excelsior," which, of course, means " Excelled by none," and 
their «rfornannee ia a sufficient ovldcnco of their superiority 
over the common Endlor* Chain Powers. 
Tito Warranty ir as follows:—Tf Ihti Power* do not BEBWor the 
description, and do any reasonable umoont of work required of 
them, tho monoy will be refunded and the machines returned at 
the manufacturer’* expense. , 
ITT- AGiars Wahtjsp, to whom a liberal commission will bo 
irivim RICHARD M. PEASE 
THE NEW-MOWN HAY. 
BT CHARLES MACKAT 
"When swallows dart from cottage c avw, 
And farmers dream of barley sheaves; 
When apples peep amid the leaves. 
And woodbines scent the way — 
We love to By from daily care, 
To breathe the country buxom air— 
To join out bands and form a ring— 
To laugh and sport—and dance and Bing, 
Amid the new-mown hay. 
A Btrangex coraeE -with eyes of blue; 
Quoth he, “ I’m Love, the youth and true; 
J wish to pass an hour with you, 
This pleasant summer day." 
“ Come in! come iu! you saucy elf! 
And who’s your friend?"'—“ 'Tis Friendship’s self. 
« Come each—come both, our sports to share; 
There’s welcome kind, and room to spate, 
Amid the new-mown hay ’’ 
The ring is formed: but who are these': 
“Come,tell your errand if yon please; 
Von look so Hour and ill at ease, 
You dim the face of day." 
•• Ambition!” “ Jealousy!" and Strifet" 
And “ Scorn!" and “ Weariness of Life;" 
«if such your names, we hate your kin; 
The place ia lull, you can't come ia 
Amid the new-mown hay. 1 ’ 
Another guest comes bounding by, 
With brow unwrtnkled, fair and high— 
With sun burnt face and roguish eye, 
And asks your leave to stay. 
Quoth he, “ I'm Fun, your right good friend!” 
“ Come in! come in; with you we’ll end!” 
And thus we frolic in a ring— 
And thus we laugh, and dance, and sing 
Amid the new-mown hay, 
season, 
again?” 
“ I suppose she and her troupe will go to the 
sea-side, and it would be well for ns to follow,” 
said a merry, girlish voice. 
“ No one knows where Bhe is going,—she keeps 
that a secret, so anxious is she to retire into seclu¬ 
sion. Even her troupe are in ignorance of her in¬ 
tentions.” 
“ God bless her, wherever she goes,” said a mas¬ 
culine voice, tremulous with feeling, “ Her triumph 
to-night was a grand one, bat it is her last.” 
Their voice? died away as they bad left the 
bower and wandered ofl’ to the more frequented 
parts of the garden, in the hopes of meeting her 
who, pale and motionless, wag leaning over the 
bidden balcony eagerly catching each word they 
spoke. Praise was not new or sought for by her,— 
her soul was surfeited, aye, weary of the great 
voice that shouted her name through the world — 
that simple name once woven so tenderly in a 
grandmother’s prayers. But they had helped to 
bring in her harvest,—the tiny seed she cast on the 
waters many a long day before. Bhe had been 
wandering back in child-land, you know, and be¬ 
neath the broad swaying bonghs of the wood¬ 
land, with the brook singiDg in her ear, and the 
great future to her heart, she had told dear old 
Bouncer over again. 
* I will do something in this big world, for I 
know I can; there is a something in my heart tells 
me so. ***** I will sing; yes, I will 
sing, hut not for money or fame, but to make bad 
men good, the unhappy, happy, and to have people 
love me.” 
They have missed yon, dreamer, and are search¬ 
ing hall and bower. Go back to the crowd; you 
have a morrow of peace and rest. 
"Oh, my dear lady, yon will not think of walk¬ 
ing so far, after such a sick night as you have had. 
Come, now, take a ride; the walk will never do.” 
“I am better this morning, Ltsskttb, and the 
walk I must, have. I know just how far it is; I 
have been there many a time. This warm sun¬ 
shine, and the smell of the new hay and flowers 
puts life into me”—and drawing her shawl closer 
about her she went down the garden towards the 
meadow gate. 
“ Bat let me go with yon, please do,” importuned 
the ancient maid, “ You are too feeble to stand 
alone without help. - * 
“Oh no," was the smiling reply, “I would rath¬ 
er go alone. Do not be alarmed about me. If I 
am not back in an hour send the carriage for me. 
I am going to that little bower by the brook,— 
John will know where it is,” Then she added as 
she turned away, “ I shall never be any better un¬ 
til I have been there, or attempted it.” 
Lissette went reluctantly back towards the cot¬ 
tage, and Alice passed through the meadow's 
gate. As she proceeded, tottering sometimes 
from the path, the red deepened on her cheeks, 
and her eyes grew wildly rapturous as they fell 
upon objects dearly remembered. She was losing 
strength, and came near falling with dizziness, 
when the murmuring of the brook came soitly to 
her through the woodland. Her ear drank in the 
sound that inspired her with new energy, and 
nerving her relaxed muscleB, she sprang forward, 
bounding almost as lightly as little Alice used to 
do, through the under-shrubB and trailing vines, 
until her feet were upon the spot, the blessed spot 
that for many a weary year she had visited but in 
her dreams. 
Had her excitement then ceased she would have 
been prostrate. Looking affectionately and tear¬ 
fully from one dear object to another, she went 
first to the little brook and bending down to it,— 
started not at the pale emaciated face it mirrored 
back, but scooping up the water with her hands 
drank eagerly of it, bathed her throbbing temples, 
and was sorely tempted to pull off her shoes and 
stockings anil let the rippleB kiss her feet as they 
used to do. 
a long psalm of sorrow. Of itself it is a mere 
business behest: in its hearings, it Involves regret, 
suffering, and oftentimes despair. Not an hour 
glides into the great sea of the past— not a mo¬ 
ment leaps to the surface, and then is lost forever 
— but some ear listens to the knell for the last 
time! 
If your heart has become dissatisfied with its 
treasures, and you are disposed to grope among 
the shadows of despondency, go where friends are 
parting. We know not of a surer recipe for kin¬ 
dling the flame of sympathy, and making “ Richard 
himself again,” than this. No oue with even a 
fragment of a heart in his bosom, can see the 
warmth of those who are to go and those who are 
to stay, and hear the tremulous but earnest “ good 
bye,” and “God bless yoa,’" uttered by lips that 
tremble with the freightage, without a blessing of 
his own. 
A few weeks ago we were witness of a parting 
that touched us nearly. It was between two wbo 
wore newly wedded, and, who, since the sweet day 
of their nuptials, bad not been parted for a day, 
hardly for an hour. Nothing short of Blieer neces¬ 
sity could have called the husband from bis idol 
now—but. the necessity came between them, and 
he muatnot shrink; we sawthe long wild embrace, 
heard the clear whisper — “Be ol' good cheer—I 
will be home soon,” and in a few moments more, 
the billows rolled between the hearts that bo late¬ 
ly, God had joined together. 
'I will be home soon.” These were the words 
— the only consolation left, and so much bitter¬ 
ness. Perhaps the pangs of parting were sharpen¬ 
ed by the vague presentiment that they should 
never meet again! And so she turned from the 
spot, that sad young wire, and went back to a home 
whose light had departed. 
“I will be home soon 
Albany, N. Y., 1857. 
Banker, No. 2Q Merchants' Exchange, N. Y. 
SUPERIOR SUFFOLK. SWINE. 
T he subscribers have for bale pure Suffolk 
Swine, bred from their bast Suffolk Btock. AddresB 
331w8eow JOSIAB STIOKNKV, Watertown, Mass, 
ilamlm or ISAAC STIOKNEY, Boston. do 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
KHDZIEI’S * 
LAKE, RAIN AND UTYER WATER FILTERS. 
I AVE BEEN IN OBE FOR SIXTEEN YEARS, AND IN 
all parts of tho United Slates and the Canadas, have given 
ie highest satisfaction. They are scientific in their constrne- 
on, Portable, Durable and Cheap For Circulars with particii- 
ir». address J E ClIKNKY A CO.. 
SSloowtf Rochester, N. Y. 
BY JENNY MARSH PARKER. 
[Concluded from page 230, last No.] 
One Autumn day, when the nuts and leaves lay 
thick upon the withered swan!, and the sun but 
faintly broke through the dark misty clouds—when 
the vines mailed drearily agaiKBt the window 
pane, and the dead clematis and morning-glories 
broke their support and fell across the door—while 
the swallows kept twittering as gloomily as they 
conld,—grandma’s hands dropped their toiling, 
and she went with the angel through the dim por¬ 
tals of eternity. 
Alice arose from her sorrow, with her hopes 
born anew in her hear!,—and an eager, undaunted 
pilgrim, she went forth alone into the greattvorld. 
WHO WANTS A CHEAP PIANO I 
T he rubscribkk has for years been engaged 
in the* ptireboxo and »al® of VNawr, Attn 31t!ol/ons, Guitar*, 
Giriuu, Menlo, etc,, ami twlng a praeUrot mmlelan, has given 
euliro «atl if action He buy* uVtrtiy from (A* m.%nuja/3uros. and 
U thereby roleived from heavy rent* and other expenses. Every 
instrument sold by him, receives his personal cWentbrn, and Is 
maranUol not only as to /pmily, but «a boles choapcr thuu It cau 
bo procured at any wholesale house io Atnnrteo. A printed Hot 
Of price a. accompanied by the moot unqtieoliouabln reference*, 
will ho Gent on application, frto of rh UV" to all porta ol tho 
world. AddresB JAMKa M. EDNEY, 
365_eow tf 40 John Bt, New York. 
COLE, ADAMS & CO., 
(Successors TO William N. Sage,) Booksellers, Btatloners, and 
Dealers in l'rintort’ Stock, No. 40 Buffalo St., Rochester, N. Y. 
” — and so he was; home 
before he expected—home ere yet the tears were 
dried from the eyes of the weeper whom he left 
behind. But alas! how did he come? Encom¬ 
passed in a shroud, embraced within a coffin, cold 
as the perpetual snow that crowns the monarch 
mountain of Switzerland. Sure enough—he was 
‘ home soon.” 
They dug but one grave then, but since ouotker 
has been demanded—and now the young husband 
and young wife ale?p and dream together- 
We shall all " be home soon.” What that home 
will be, rests with us. The deeds of. virtue will 
secure a passport to golden palaces—the enormi¬ 
ties of vice will end in worse than dungeon dark¬ 
ness. 
“ Home soon.” So he was—and having waited 
but a little while, she went home also. 
Denier* in 
A n COLB. 
W. A. ADAMS. 
8ABEY & BUCHAN, 
Dealers in Hats, Gaps and Furs at the “Old Premium Hat 
Store." No. 23 State street, Rochester, N. T. 387 
What has this splendid saloon with its gorgeous 
drapery, its rare and exquisite works of art, its 
ravishing music floating sofily through the per¬ 
fumed air, and this princely-attired throng to do 
with anght pertaining to the low brown cottage 
on the hill-side? There is mirth, dancing and 
feasting, happy smiles, and heart-aching 1 ween, 
and the bell in the tower near by solemnly told the 
hour of twelve long ago, but it was unheard or 
unheeded by all. 
A tall queenly figure, whose dress was glittering 
with the rarest gems, and who had been moving 
among the crowd, the sought for and flattered by 
them all, passed hastily alone through the moonlit 
conservatory, adroitly avoiding the observance of 
the scattered groups. She found the secluded 
balcony sbe sought deserted, and only the hum of 
the many voices, and the dying strains of the harp 
could reach her there. She sank down as if ex¬ 
hausted with weariness, and resting her jeweled 
head against the marble colum that scarcely ex¬ 
celled in whiteness and coldness her thin,sad face, 
she uplifted her large spiritual eyes to heaven, and 
while her lips moved inaudibly,the tears fell thick 
and fast 
"And was this my life’s mission, great God,” 
Bhe mnrmered, “ was it for this you sent me into 
the world?” A long pause in which her tears 
dried up and her trembling lips became compress¬ 
ed. Very calmly and firmly sbe continued:” “Yes, 
I know that I have finished my work; it is all done. 
The hand of death grows colder and tighter upon 
my heart, I have had my last triumph, and I am 
weary, weary and shall be glad to go. * * * I 
have toiled, but what earthly comfort did it bring? 
I have hoped, but only my hopes in thee, great 
God, do give me peace to-night. I have loved,— 
oh! would it were only Thee!” A sign of inward 
suffering crossed her faoe. ’Twas bnt a moment, 
and all was calm again. “ I went forth alone to 
the battle, and only Thou didst guide me. Thou 
wert with me in my sorrow and care, and I know 
Thou art near me to-night. Take home the wan¬ 
derer, dear Christ,—oh let me join in the songs of 
the angels.” A Bmile, most like to those that flit 
across the faces of sleeping babes, settled apoD 
her countenance. She was wandering unfettered 
through the realms of dreamland, when she heard 
the murmuring of a noisy brook, the carolling of 
uncaged birdB, the rustling of forest trees, and she 
felt the soft green tnrf under her bare feet, the 
warm Bunbeams on her forehead, and Bouncer’s 
silky head upon her lap. Her heart beat its olden 
measure, and that something, ab. the years bad 
found its name,—nerved her with its wildest whis¬ 
per to arise and go forth into the world. She 
RAFALJE & co s 
Genesee Seed and Atluiru i.tural WAueitoy&e, 65 Bnffalo 
St. Rochester. N. V, ami Port Hop*. O. W AcncaUnroI 
Implement&, Mfcohjiws. ni Whqlotmle iwd Retail Import¬ 
ed and homo grown Garden, Kidd nnd Flowpr Heeds. ist* 
BRIGGS & BROTHER, 
Importers and Growers, hu<1 Wholesale aud Retail Dealers 
In Garden. Field and Flower Seeds, and Horticultural Imple¬ 
ments, 85 Stale St., Uocbofiter, X. V. V3e~ Seeds furnished on 
commission. Choir* i’cas and Beaus at Wholesale SSI 
J. E. CHENEY CO.. 
MAstrYACTCKrns or Kedeik's Water Filters, Thermometer*. 
Be In iterators. Stove*. Tin. Copper and Sheet Iron Ware—and 
Dealers in llonso Furnishing Goods of every description, 
No*. 59 and 61 State St., R ochester, X. Y. _ Sol 
ADAMS, HASTINGS & McVEAN, 
Genesee Taper Mills, Manufacturers or Boolu Printing and 
Wrapping Hnpor, and Dontera to Fine Paper. Prttiers Mock, 
Inka, SIthw Hoard. WwrafeoU#*, No 1)9 htoto Bt.. Hochos- 
tor. Cunb paid tor Hags, Sir.uUup. Kopo. *c 
ERASTUS DAKROVV & BROTHER, 
BOOB Sellers, Publishers and Stationer^ Osborn Home 
Block. Hoc.hc.Ktor, N Y.. Wholesale and K«UU Dealers la 
School, Medical, ReUriouv, Sunday School, Mtscollanoon* 
and Now Book*. Writing Toper, Plato*, Slate Pencil*, Print- 
lui; Ink, Ac. Order* from Dealer* solicited 387 
For Moore - * Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
My first in time is never found, 
Yet in season comes arouud; 
My seoond yon can find in dayB, 
When the Christian kneels and prays. 
My third is in good company never, 
But may be found in bad forever; 
My third and fourth are just the same, 
And second and fifth bears a like name. 
My sixth in darkuess cannot be, 
Yet comes in the night, and does not flee! 
My seventh aud last in death you’ll find, 
My whole gives repose to the weary mind. 
Adams, N. Y., 1857. G. W. F. 
Answer next week. 
mitlj’s Conur 
For Moore’* Rural New-Yorker. 
MY FIR8T THEFT. 
BOQABDUS LEWIS, 
OPERATIVE LITHOGRAPHERS & ENGRAVERS, 
S80 MAIN ST.. BUFFALO, N. Y. 
J D. Boo audits. I [ZStiwcj (Joseph Lewis. 
J. SAGE & SONS, 
LITHOGU-tl’llER-S AND ENGRAVERS, 
809 Main Street, BurrALO, 
OVER St A. <3r 33 ’ fit MUSIC STORE. 
Many years ago, when a boy of seven or eight 
years, my home was near a beautiful village in the 
central part of the State of New York. Although 
it was but a bumble cottage, the flowers aBd ebrnbs 
flourishing so luxuriantly under the tender care of 
my mother, made it Beem a paradise in my young 
eyes, and even now I remember the home of my 
boyhood as the sweetest spot on earth. My father 
was in humble circumstances, and by close and 
laborious study earned the daily bread of his 
family, ever looking forward to the time when the 
reward of his labor should bring ns peace and 
plenty. I was an only son, and acknowledged, by 
all to be a growing image of my sire, and altho’ 
almost idolized by him, his poverty prevented the 
gratification of very many of my ohildish humors, 
and saved me from the fate of far too many 
idolized children. He was a true Christian, al¬ 
ways endeavoring to instil good aud holy princi¬ 
ples Into the minds of my little sister and myself, 
and though long since dead, I shall never forget 
the looks so full of interest and love which accom¬ 
panied his teachings. 
The distance between my father’s house and the 
village was about half a mile; and a moBt delight¬ 
ful walk it was in Bummer. To take the hand of 
my father and accompany him in biB visits to the 
village store, listening to his stories and carrying 
some little'parcel for my sister or mother, was one 
of my greatest pleasures. There was one thing, 
however, which I longed for more than anything 
else, and which I imagined would make me su¬ 
premely happy. It was a jack-knife. Then I 
would not be obliged to borrow father’s every time 
I wished to cat a string or u stick, but could whit¬ 
tle whenever I chose and as much as I pleased.— 
Dreams of kites, bows and arrows, boatB, etc., all 
manufactured with the aid of that shining blade, 
haunted me by day and might. I had UBked my 
father to buy me one, but he could only promise to 
grant my request at some future time, which to 
me seemed ages henoe. 
One of these visits, the sequel of which forms 
the subject of thiB tale, 1 6hall never forget. It 
was a beautiful morning in June that my father 
called me and gave me leave, if 1 wished, to go 
with him to the store. I whb delighted, and taking 
his hand we started. The birds saug sweetly on 
every bush and everything looked so gay and 
beautiful that my heart fairly leaped with joy. I 
waa very happy. After onr arrival at the village, 
REMOVAL. 
FRANCIS Ac LOUTREL, 
Stationers, Printers and Book * Hinders, 
Have Removed from their Old Stand to the New Store 
No. 46 Maiden Lane, 
lNear Nassau St., Nr.to-York.] 
rjT W* oupply everything in our line. Orders receive 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma in No. 393 
Tho Printing Press. 
Answer to Charade in No. 393:—Milk. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem in No. 393 
83.998 feet. 
She laid her band upon the noble 
trees, pressed her cheek aguinst their tranks, and 
heard in the low rustling of the leaves, familiar 
voices welcoming her home. She did not break 
the stem of a flower, but bending over tbeir beau¬ 
ty she talked to them with childish confidence, 
bedewing them with her tears. A bright-breasted 
oriole perched on a hough over her heat), burst 
into one of its wildest, songs, and she sat down 
upon the grass to listen to it, nnd the voice of her 
heart. Very long she sat there with her hands 
folded upon her lap, and her bead bowed thought¬ 
fully forward. The bird sang its song and flew 
away, but she knew it not. Various were the shades 
that flitted across her face, deepening or fading 
the flush on her cheeks. Sometimes she smiled as 
joyously as if the ringing peals of a merry laugh 
that once echoed through those woods were to 
follow, and then again the tearB fell very fast— 
Some heavenly thought shed a radiance upon her 
face, and it brightened and grew eloquent. Look¬ 
ing heavenward she softly whispered,— 
“ I used to think that the angels were sometimes 
singing with me. I believe that they are very near 
me now. * * * * Twenty years ago!—can it 
be? It seemed forty yesterday, but now scarcely 
one. * * * * Only a little while,—perhaps 
before midnight,—mine will be the song of the 
angels.” 
Raising herself npon her feet with a wrapt im¬ 
pulse, her whole being glowiDg with inspiration, 
she summoned all the strength she had, and stood 
there alone, more queenly and commanding in 
aspect than when a throng of thousands were en¬ 
tranced by her power. Her heart was young 
again; it bad throbbed far back to child-land, and 
the wild passionate tide that had swayed it then, 
flooded upon it, and it broke forth in a “Praise to 
God in tho Highest!” with thrilling and heavenly 
harmony. All nature was hushed in Rolemn si¬ 
lence as the hymn of adoration went op, and died 
among the clouds. 
prompt attonUon- 
Natukk’s Bong in the Night. —Night hath its 
songs. Have you never stood by the sea-side at 
night and heard the pebbles sing, and the waves 
chant God’s glories? Or have you never risen 
from your couch, and thrown up the window of 
your chamber, and listened there? Listened to 
what? Silence—save now and then a murmuring 
sound, which seemed sweet music then. And have 
yon not fancied that you heard the harp of God 
playing in heaven? Did you not oouceive thatyon 
stars, that those eyes of God, looking down on 
yon, were also months of song—that every star 
was siuging God’B glory, singing, as it shone, its 
mighty Maker, and his lawful, well - deserved 
praise? Night has its songs. We need not much 
poetry In our spirit to catch the song of night, and 
hear the spheres as they chant praises which are 
loud to the heart, though they be silent to the ear 
— tho praise of the mighty God, who bears up the 
unpillared arch of heaven, and moves the stars In 
their courses.— Spurgeon. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LEAD IK 0 WEEKLY 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper, 
18 PUBLISHED EVEBT SATUKDAT 
liy D. It- T. MOOIU 5 , ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Offloe, Union IlullUlne*, Opposite the Court llon*c. 
TERMS, IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollar* a Year—* 1 fot nix months. To Club* ss'.A 
Agent* m follow* Tltpgo Ooplce onn year, for |6; Six Coplo* 
and one to Agent or getter np of Club,) for $10; Tun Copt** (»“ 
,na to Agent.) for *15, and any additional number at the *»“« 
oan postage on paper* «eut to tha Hrltmn rrovmeos. o..r vi¬ 
dian agent* and friend* ron»t add 12>* cent* per copy to the 
club rate* of the Rural 
V Thi poetago on Ui« Kukal Ir only SM couta per quarter t o 
any part of thl» State, (except Monroe county, wboto 1» go*” 
free,) and 6fi cent* to any section of tho UnlUid States—paj’»b r 
quarterly In advance at tho office whore received 
gy HnbecrtborH wtahlng thoir paper* changed from one Fo«i 
Office to another, ahould bo particular In tpocLiylng the offioo* 
at which they am now received 
g-jr Club paper* am »ent to a* many dlirorent addrosso* ol 
post-office* a* roqurntod, and »e write the name* or Bubucrlber* 
on paper* If deal red—U'“* aaving Agent* and Fost-Mastor* from 
any labor or attention In the premise*. 
rjr*D ace Numbers et the present voltimo can still be»up- 
ptlod but tbe«o desiring then, should l>o particular In spooler ng 
hat they are wanted. 
AnvEBTiaiaa.—lirtof and appropriate advertisements will M 
Inserted at 26 cent* a Hue, eftoh Insertion, payable In advanc 
Onr rule is to give no advertisement, union* very brlof, 
than lour consooutlvo Insertion*. Patent Medicine*. °" 41 
not advertised in the Rural on any conditions 
IlB who knows that power is inborn, that he is 
weak because he has looked for good out of him 
aud elsewhere, and so perceiving, throws himself 
unhesitatingly on his thought, instantly rights 
himself, stands in the erect position, commands 
his limbs, works miracles; just as mau who stands 
on his feet is stronger than a man who Btands on 
his head. 
Now and then you meet with a person so exact¬ 
ly formed to please, that he will gain upon every 
oue that hearB or beholds him; this disposition is 
not merely the gift of nature, but frequently tho 
effect of much knowledge of the world and a coin- 
and while my father was occupied in purchasing | mand over the passions. 
