cj—----- 
\ 308 MOORE’S EUEAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGEICULTUEA1 AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER. SEPT. 19. 
Sjotiw ififtty. 
MY DEAR OLD HOME. 
1 gamic again to tuy dear old home, 
But years long since had sped, 
And ’mid the raven locks of youth 
Lay many a silvery thread; 
The hounding step was slow and sail, 
The sparkling eye grew dim. 
And the bird note, once so blithesome, fell 
Like the chimes of a funeral hymn. 
1 looked for the roof that sheltered once 
The loved of childhood’s hours; 
I sought for the hearthstone—upon it lay 
A mound of grass and flowers— 
The broad-armed oak whose sheltering shade 
Was the scene of our merry play; 
A moss-grown stump marked out the spot 
That told of its sad decay. 
I wandered down to the poplar spring. 
And drank from its gushing stream, 
But the draught had lost its magic charm, 
The waves their golden gleam; 
For the rippling wave* seemed to speak 
With the tones of long ago— 
Oh, many a tuneful voice is still 
That mingled with their flow. 
I turned to seek with liug'ring step, 
And apiril bowed and sad. 
For those who bad Messed that lowly roof, 
An d made the hearthstone glad; 
And I found them all where the willow drooped 
Its long green boughs around— 
Some cherished form was resting there, 
'Neath each quiet grassy mound. 
I am forth again In the wide, cold world, 
But where'er my footsteps tread, 
The dearest spot will be to me 
The homes of th« lov'd ones dead. 
The sunshiDe steals through the hanging boughs 
With a softened, holy light. 
And silent stars gleam purest there 
In the hitab oi the summer night. 
[ California Christian Advocate. 
ile’s 
ANNIE GRAY. 
Site was a winsome girl; never was one more so. 
Her home was in the opening of a gorge of the 
mountain where the ravine spreads into a valley, 
not very wide, watered by a stream that dashed 
wildly over the rocks a little further up. The 
broad, low cottage of the Widow Gray (sb I will 
call her, by your leave, although I need not say I 
nse a fictitious name) was concealed from view in 
the day-time by a dense mans of trees and shrub¬ 
bery, except on one side where the lawn sloped 
down to the bank of the creek. Here was usually 
moored two or three little skills, which might 
easily be forced up the rapidB, quite into the 
mountain gorge, and which were often seen bear¬ 
ing Annie and her brother down the current, re¬ 
turning from some expedition on the hills. 
Had yon passed along the road which crossed 
the montn of the ravine below the cottage, yon 
would not have suspected that a house was in the 
thicket above you, unless It had been in the evening 
and you saw the gleam of the light, and paused,as 
I often paused, to let yonr horse drink at the edge 
of the broad creek; and then, perhaps, you might 
have heard a song floating out of the dark wood; 
and if you rode on till midnight* it would linger 
in yonr ears, and yon would fancy yon heard a 
spirit. 
That man mast have had a hard heart that did not 
love Annie Gray. She was the impersonation of 
loveliness. I never could describe a face or form. 
I do not remember friends by their features, and 
I have not the remotest Idea of the color ol their 
eyes or hair, in nine cases of ten. Hut I do re¬ 
member her with distinct memory. She was tall; 
that is, rather above the medium height, and slen¬ 
der, but gracefully and beautifully shaped. Every 
motion was natural and unaffected, and her foot¬ 
step was as light as her heart—and that had not a 
heaviness. Sweet Annie Gray! The music of her 
laughter rings from out. the lonesome years like 
the melodious carol of a bird In the arches of a 
ruined temple! Her eye was dark, quick as sun¬ 
shine in the changes and full of unspoken poetry. 
Yon might read all manner of bountiful fancies 
and holy thonghts there. But I linger too long on 
this description of her. Her brother was a fine 
fellow, a year or two older than she, and one of 
the merriest hoys in all the country. He loved 
his sister, too, as T have before remarked; love has 
a reflecting force which murks the lovely. 
I am completely lost in u whirlwind of memo¬ 
ries, now that I return to those days and scenes.— 
There were a thousand Incidents of Buy early life 
that are brought vividly before me the moment I 
recall the old cottage in the glen and Its beloved 
inmates. How startling does the trite remark, that 
we live in a changing world, recur to our thoughts 
every day. In fact, it cannot hut become trite. 
The very stars that we worship as changeless 
sometimes fall, and the eyes that we worship with 
more of devotion than the stars, grow dim, and 
the hearts that we fancy are immutable, change 
mournfully! There is nothing immutable but God. 
It is the attribute of Deity which includes all oth¬ 
ers, and to which mortals do homage because they 
cannot comprehend if. 
A score of years has removed the cottage from 
the earth, and its inhabitants have separated here 
—have met again np yonder! One by one, their 
lips, murmuring hyms und prayera and their white 
hands folded together, the friends of my younger 
days have passed away, and hot few remain of till 
that company. 
Annie Gray died thus:—One glorious summer 
evening, when the moon was in its full, she and 
Ned had been strolling up the mountain side, and 
coming down together, had nearly reached their 
boat as twilight gathered around them. Loth to 
return from the forest, she bade Ni d push the lit¬ 
tle skiff almost under the fall; and standing on a 
rock in the very middle of the water, she shook 
her tiny fist at the cataract, and held a mock con 
verBation with it ’ 
Returning from the day's shooting on the moun¬ 
tains, I saw her on the pedestal helote I was seen, 
and throwing myself down upon the ground, 
watched her with admiring eyes. Undine bcrsell 
was not more beautiful, She talked to the water 
as to an old familiar friend; and in truth, if there 
be sprites they must have loved her. Her voice 
was clearer than that of the stream, and when she 
laughed, as she at length did, at some odd reply 
she imagined the fail to make, the old arches of 
the foreHt and the ravine gave back a musical 
echo, so that I started to my feet and listened to it. 
as to tho voice of fairies. 
But a cry of half terror and half laughter start¬ 
led me, and springing down the bank, T saw her a 
single inBtant as she disappeared in the water.— 
Her footing had proved insecure, and she slipped 
from the rock into the embrace of the stream she 
loved. 
It was the work only of an instant for her to 
spring out, and swim by a few strokes to the shore, 
and she wsb not a partiele frightened by the oc¬ 
currence. On the contrary, the woods rang with 
her uncontrollable laughter as soon as she whb on 
the shore. 
I walked In that Bame forest two years ago, and 
heard again the music of that ringing laughter 
through the long halls of time, made scarcely more 
melodious by its passage through the corridors of 
years. 
Placing her in the boat, and taking the oars 
from Ned, I soon delivered them safely at the oot- 
tage, and hade them good night. The next day 
Annie had a raging fever, and was delirious for 
ten days. I saw her several times, but she did not 
recognize me, albeit I was a near relative, and had 
known her from her birth. There was one voice 
that she recognized, and one lace that she looked 
up to with longing love. It was the face of Phil 
R-, who had won her pure young heart. But I 
will not intrude on the sacred memory of that love 
which is the property of hot few now living. Phil 
is dead too. On the tenth day of her sickness she 
slept heavily, and awoke in her right mind. But, 
alas! for the dear ones around her, it was but too 
evident she was near to Heaven. Her eye was 
clear, and full of joy, as if she had been, as I doubt 
not she had, with the angels. 
Old Mr. Thompson, the clergyman who baptized 
us all, and had buried our fathers, and had loved 
us faithfully from the days of our first lisping, 
stood by her bed, and she smiled joyfully as she 
saw him. 
“Ah, Mr. Thompson, I used to wonder whether 
I should die with you all around me, and that is 
jnat exactly as I wished it. It seems strange, too, 
that I am dying. I don’t exactly believe it. Phil, 
am I dying?” 
“God forbid, Annie.” 
“Ah! that tone, Phil! You mean to say God 
alone can save me, for all hope on man is gone.— 
Don’t grieve, though—don’t grieve! Why, it isn’t 
hard to die. I love the dear earth well enough to 
stay here—and the flowers and birds, and the 
brooks, and the old seat down by the hank of the 
stream; but I don't feel so very sorrowfal to leave 
them as I used to think I wonld. And I do love 
mother and Ned, and Mr. Thompson, and-and-aud 
yon, Phil!” and here her voice, which had been 
low, but cheerful, suddenly trembled, and she waB 
silent. 
At length she continued in a renewed tone of 
cheerfulness:—“ PbH, go sometimes and sit on the 
old seat down there by the stream, and put your 
arm along the back of it, and look np; and if you 
don't feel my kiss, It, will be beoanso angel’s kisses 
can’t be felt* for if God will let me, I'll come there 
and take tho seat which I have so often sat in, and 
lay my head on yonr shoulder. Mr. Thompson, 
I’in going to heaven at last in advance of yon. I 
started a long way behind, but I shall be there first 
after all.” 
The good old maD, to whom this part of the 
sentence was addressed, sobbed aloud; but at 
length recovering composure, he knelt at the side 
of her bed, and his long white locks fell over the 
couuterpane as be commenced the prayer of earn¬ 
estness. I stood still at the foot of the bed, and 
watched the face of angel girl. 
As he spoke of Heaven her eye lighted, and as 
he begged God to spare her to us a little while, I 
saw her hand steal along until it reached Phil's 
head, and her tiny lingers were among his thick 
locks of hair, and the next moment her hand was 
in his, and he rose, and sitting by her side, gazed 
into her face with unutterable love; and aa the 
sublime words of hope escaped from the lips of 
the clergyman, T saw her move, as if to say “Kiss 
roe Phil;” and he stooped down to her and with 
her arms around his neck, and that Inst loving 
kiss upon her lips, she wept forth by the unknown 
path that all roust tread. 
Strong in her simple faith, and leaning confi¬ 
dently on her Savior, she, who was fairest ol our 
children here, has long ago become, I cannot 
doubt, one of the fairest of God’s children there. 
Peace be with her. On her grave, violets bloom; 
and I have seen children, who have wandered over 
the hills In search of flowere all the day long in 
vain, refuse to pluck those which bloomed bolily 
over all that was earthly of Annie Gray. Peace be 
with her? In that sunny land, whereof I dream 
in summer Sabbath morning dreams,! trust one 
day to meet her. There the voice that was low 
and plaintive as the night wind here has renewed 
its tones in thrilling melody. There the last sound 
of sorrowfal discord is hashed; for, as she left np, 
those sounds died away, faintly, scarce heard, then 
gone forever! and she did not hear them when she 
came back, aa she did at times, to keep the trysting 
with Phil, bho heard, then, no sounds but the 
beating of his heart. 
One summer moruing, ten years afterwards, she 
called him suddenly, and his spirit sprang forth at 
the call. The bonds of earth were broken. None 
knew whereof he died. 
-- 
A FIELD of broom-corn is the most graceful 
thing wc see in the country, sweeping, as yester 
day, the blue and sunny air, with the fingers of the 
wind; sweeping the path of the bird and the rain, 
and the route of song. 
"if you have ever seen,” wrote Willis to his 
danghter, “ a field of broom-corn—the most care- 
lees branching and tree swaying of all tin* products 
Of a summer—aud can fancy the contrast, in its 
destiny, between sweeping the pure air with the 
wind’s handling, and sweeping what it more use¬ 
fully may, when tied up for handling as brooms, 
you can understand the diff renco I feel, between 
nslng my thoughts at my pleasure, ss in country 
life, and using them for subsistence as in my pre- 
sent profession.” 
LITTLE MAUD’S GRAVE. 
It was a lovely spot, in a sheltered corner of a 
beautiful cemetery, and I stood for a long time in¬ 
tently regarding it. On a beautiful tablet of white 
marble was sculptured the figure of an angel soar¬ 
ing upward, bearing In its armB a little child, and 
sheltering it, oh! so lovingly with its wings. The 
only words on tho monument were “ Little Maud, 
aged five years—she was wanted in Heaven and God 
took her.” How vividly was called to my mind 
my first meeting with that sweet child, and her 
words to me, “ I want to go to Heaven.” 
Let mo try to describe her, as she appeared when 
I first Baw her, not many days before her death.— 
She was rather tall for her age, and was, I think, 
tho most beautiful child T ever met; her skin was 
of dazzling fairness, her hair of a rich brown, and 
worn in curls reaching nearly to her waist; her 
mouth was like a cleft rosebud, bnt more than all 
else, her eyes constituted her chief beauty—they 
were of a dark, deep violet, blue, bnt with such a 
depth, such an Intensity of expression, such a soul 
look in them, that do one could look upon her, 
without fueling that Bho was no common child, 
hot that she was possessed of an intellect and un¬ 
derstanding, not generally reached hy children of 
her age. I am passionately fond of children, and 
as onr first meeting was on hoard a steamboat, 
where we journeyed together nearly a week, 1 soon 
made her acquaintance, and through her, her mo¬ 
ther’s, in whom I found an intimate acquaintance, 
and a dear friend of one of my old Bchool-mates, 
and a native of my much loved childhood’s home 
—New Orleans. 
With these connecting links, and the little 
Maud, as a chain to bind ub together, we soon be¬ 
came friends, and at my request, she consented to 
spend a short time with me, on her retnrn from 
New York, whfere she was now going on a visit to 
her husband’s friends; he was not with her, hut 
her bright, and happy face, her glowing descrip¬ 
tion of him to me, and her eager looking forward 
to the time set for him to join her, all proved that 
she was a happy wife, as well as mother. As I 
looked upon her, I c-onld not help thinking hers 
was a lot to be envied hy many. Ono day, na we 
sat together, I was nursing the little Mnnd, onr 
conversation turned upon an occurrence which 
had token place that morning: a lady had correct¬ 
ed her little hoy, for telling a falsehood. Maud’s 
face, while we spoke, expressed such sorrow, that 
I said to her, what Is the matter darling. “Ob, 
she said, I am so grieved for him." Why, I asked 
to try her, is it so very wrong for any one to say 
what is not true. u Indeed it is,” was her'reply.— 
“ I hope I may never do so.” Why do yon wish It 
so earnestly, I still inquired. “ Because,” she re¬ 
plied, as her beautiful eyes filled with tears, “I 
want to go to Heaven when I die, and dear papa 
read to me from Goci’b hook, ono day, that no liar 
should enter his kingdom.” Sweet child! I ex¬ 
claimed, may you ever remain thus pure, and 
truthful; and turning to her mother, I said, yon 
are a happy woman; yon have indeed a treasure 
here. “ I am,” was her answer, as she tamed a 
look of almost-idolatrous affection upon her little 
girl. “I possess two such trtuwtitreir, in my husband 
and child, that I sometimes dread lest. I should 
make idols of them, and they should be taken from 
mo. My life is bound up In theirs, and a separa¬ 
tion from them, would, T fear, snap the tbreudB of 
my own existence.” Aud then Bhe added after a 
pause—" bnt Maud has almost passed the perilous 
period of Infancy, and is so well, end strong, that 
I look forward to a long and happy life for her.”— 
Short flighted mortals we are: how little wc know 
wbat a day may bring forth. 
The next day wc were to part Oh! how differ¬ 
ent a parting it was to the one we anticipated!— 
My home was reached, we had all left the boat, as 
Maud and her mother were to continne their jour¬ 
ney by railroad. Onr carriages were waiting for 
ns, and wo stood on the levee, speaking a few last 
words when something attracted the attentions of 
the little girl; and hastily drawing her baud from 
her mother’s, she started in pursuit of it. At the 
moment, of her passing the gangway of the boat, 
where the men were busily engaged In unloading, 
a huge hogBhead, slipped from the hands guiding 
it, and in an instant, ere one effort could be made 
to arrest it, it had buried her beneath its fearful 
weight. Not a word, not a cry escaped her. And 
in a moment, without warning, her Bpirit was wing¬ 
ing its flight to that Heaven, to which it so much 
wished to go. And all that reinuinod of that be¬ 
loved child, a few minutes before so bright and 
joyous, the idol of her parents, and the delight of 
all who knew her, was a crushed and mutilated 
heap. How shall I describe that mother’s agony, 
with a shriek so fall of woe it soanded like the 
lust cry of a breaking heart, and tho words “ Oh! 
God, my child!” she fainted. For many dayB her 
life was despaired of. Her husband was immedi¬ 
ately telegraphed for, and arrived in time to at¬ 
tend the remains of hia child to their last resting- 
place. It. was his wish to have taken the body 
home for burial, but his wife was In no Btatc to he 
removed. For days we hung over her, expecting 
every hour would be her last- Bnt she iccovered 
—and still lives. But oh! so changed, and spirit 
broken. Bhe has never recovered the shock of 
her child’s death, though she can now say that it 
was in mercy they were afflicted. Both parents 
have been enabled to look to the only true source 
of cousolution, and are now looking forward to 
the happy reunion with the loved one gone before- 
A few days after the mother’s recovery, they left 
me. I have never met them since, though I often 
hear from them. Before they left, they had this 
monument erected to the memory of their child; 
and here I often come to indulge in sweet, though 
sad thoughts, of one who is now an angel In 
Heaven. Many years have passed since that hor¬ 
rible day, bnt the memory of little Maud still lives 
fresh and green in the hearts of many, not the 
least of one, who knew her, but a few short duyB, 
but who had learned to love her with almost a 
mother’s love, and who now pens this humble 
tribute to her memory, with the earnest prayer that, 
we may all meet, again in that land, where there 
shall ho no more parting—no more sorrow—uo 
more tears. 
-- - 
Ah there is nothing superior to a knowledge of 
the truth, so nothing is lower in the scale of intel 
loot than to be attached to error and mistake it for 
truth.— Cicero. 
oath's Corner. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BE ON YOUR GUARD. 
As 1 was walking along the shore of a river I 
saw a boy with his rod and line, and he cast his 
hook into the water, and to a few moments he sud¬ 
denly drew np his line aud there wsb floundering 
on the ground a little shining fish. The boy took 
it from hiB hook and put it on his string. The 
poor little thing was bleeding and panting for 
breath, and soon died. 
Tho boy cast his hook with its shining bait and 
tho little fish caught at it without thought. It was 
imprudent, not criminal, but the little fish perish¬ 
ed. I thought how many children like the simple 
fish catch, without thought, at the Binning halt of 
sin- They may, like it, wish, unavaillngly wish, 
that they had shunned It, but one evil often draws 
to it another, and still another, until the child that 
was at first only thoughtless in liis transgression 
now deliberately sins, aud sins on until hiB meas¬ 
ure of iniquity is full, and then perishes. 
That child that once touches the gilded bait of 
vice, is not safe and may never be able again t,o re¬ 
turn to the peaceful vale of virtue and truth, and 
certainly can never he as Innocent, as before. 
Then when you are tempted to do wrong, and 
the tempter says it is a little sin and will not In¬ 
jure, think of the little fish and before It is too late 
shun the gilded bait. Fitch. 
Po’keepsic, N. Y., Sept., 1857. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of thirty-one letters. 
My 7, 10, 26, 5, 31, 30, 2, 20, 7,17, 21 is u useful art. 
My 7, 25, 3, 18,15, 26, 12, 31, 30, 21 is an interest¬ 
ing science. 
My 20,30,2,11,9,6,28,16, 27,2, 23 iB both a science 
aud an art. 
My 30, 31,12, 13 too many persons love for its own 
Bake. 
My L 2, 27,16, 22 too few love for its own sake. 
My 25, 31, 6,18, 24,16, 21 too many practice merely 
because it is “the best policy.” 
My 2,18, 12,14, 30, 4, 26,15 when pure and sincere, 
is the loveliest thing on earth. 
My 19, 8, 24, 22, 14, 15, 30,16, 2G, 15 was a man— 
every inch of him. 
My whole may be found in the Proverbs of Sol¬ 
omon; and is good advice to parents. 
Goshen, N. Y., 1857. J- H. G. 
Answer next week. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
ALGEBHAICAL PROBLEM. 
Our doctor’s age is double mine, 
Onr pastor’s age is twenty-nine; 
If to their sum you do add eight 
Square root, then take a sum you make, 
To which then add just thirty-two, 
Makes twice my age and this is true: 
So tell each one his years—how few. 
Angelica, N. Y, ISiT. C. L, Cudkbec. 
’Sir Answer next week. 
For Mooro’s Rural New-Yorker. 
Arithmetical Problem. —Three women went 
to market with eggs; one had 20, one 30, and one 
50; they all sold at the same price per dozen, and 
all received equal sums of money. What did each 
sell for and at what rate?—S. R. Glover, Ripley- 
ville, Huron Co., Ohio, 1857. 
Answer next week. 
Answers to Enigmas, &c,, in No. 401. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Love one 
Another. 
Answer to Charade:—Corn—ice. 
Answer to Algebraical Problem:—36 scholars; 
Bhe received 30 cards; whb cheated out of 10; and 
sent 40 cents. 
WIT AND SENTIMENT. 
Pride and vanity are often the source of love. 
True love is ever accompanied with fear and 
reverence. 
Some hearts, like primroses, open moBt beauti¬ 
fully in the shadows of life. 
Friendship is a silent gentleman, that makeB 
no parade; the true heart dances no hornpipe on 
the tongue. 
Consider with yourself whether the wise and 
good would value you moreorleBsIf they knew 
yonr whole character. 
Common sense has become such a rare com¬ 
modity, that the world has entered into a tacit 
compact to live without It. 
Ionorance and conceit are two of the worst 
qualities to combat It is easier to dispute with a 
statesman than a blockhead. 
Dickknb says of one of hia characters, whose 
hair is turning grey, that he looks aa if Time had 
lightly splashed his snows upon it in passing. 
There is no such thing as forgetfulness in its 
true sense. A thousand incidents may, and will, 
interpose a veil between our present consciousness 
and the secret inscription on the mind; but alike, 
whether veiled or unveiled, the inscription remains 
forevermore. 
A witty clergyman being accosted by an old 
acquaintance hy the name of Cobb, replied, “I 
don’t know yon, sir.” “My name is Cobb,” re¬ 
joined the man, who was about half seas over.— 
“Ah, sir,” replied the clergyman, "you have so 
much corn on you, I didn’t see the raA” 
At a railway station, un old lady said to a very 
pompous looking gentlcinun, who was talking 
about, steam communication, “Pray, sir, what is 
steam?” “Btearo, ma’am, is, ah!—steam is—eh! 
ah! — atoum is —steam!” “I knew that chap 
couldn’t tell ye,” said a rough-looking fellow, 
stand by; “but steam is a bucket of water in a 
tremendous perfcpi ration!” 
Mr. Twist, a romancing traveler, wan talking of 
a church he hud seou in Spain, a mile and a half 
long. “ Bless me,” said Garrick, “how broad was 
it?” “Ten yards.” “This you’ll observe, gentle¬ 
men,” said Garrick, to the company, “is not a 
round lie, lint differs from his other stories, which 
are generally as broad afl they are long.” 
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RAILROAD LANDS. 
I .10R WALK nl. low price*, iindcn accommodating tejin... in 
' Humilities to «uit pUlvhaJicJ*, 2,177 Berea ot Brut quality 
Prairie Land m one-Tnu t, aelocted and min ted by luymdi, 01 
miles from Chicago, aud 0 to 7k miles from two Stations on the 
i dilcfqpi. Altou and St Louis ffailpnid, I ft) acre* Prairie Land 
3 mllimflnm Mnrrikon the Chicago utul Rock Island liniltoad, 
and GO Inno ndcagri. 11*0 acres Prairie Land 8 nidus from Jo- 
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St. Louis Uailrond, iuul 4M miles from Chicago. Address 
J HENRY, Millie..' Hill. Olie.1l, LKtiiKi loi.ro,, III. 
G UBAT AMI RUSK 8PEOII1.ATION8 hair tern und 
art beltiK made in the pure boss of Furm, Town, County aud 
State Right* for (those involition* approtiiti by s ni.) Hunt's 
purtatM or permanent Stiliiuiit Fs.ni'R anil jiortaik Unsaugino 
(IArr. cost patented, Dec 16th, 1850, April 7th and June 30th, 
1X57, I'm which, nr cut* with lull description, enclose u postage 
stomp mid address Dr. JAK. G. HUNT. Cincinnati, O. 
Kuitoiis Inserting this advnrtisement and uotu diner, with tin 
Kdltorinl colling attention to It him! sending n copy to my ad¬ 
dress, will iccelru u Flinn Right Itu IIHI actus. 3DKwG 
UHJIiOH’* KEYdTONE UlDKIt .1111,1,, 
M anufactured rs tub kaGLB works, Harris- 
burg, Pa.—Thin sterling machine has within tho post year 
beun pn to Hevore actual tesla, und boon very much unproved 
by the addition of a 22 Inch fly-wheel, now gear Inc. Joint bolts, 
and other minor Improvements, and Is now offered 10 the publlo 
with the certainly that It la mode In the very best manner, and 
that It will grind and press easier mid lauier than any other 
Mill In the market Dealers and olhers supplied on liberal 
terms. Address W.O, IIIOKOK, 
iiytwll Agent Eagle Works, llarrlsbnrg, Pa. 
F OR a VALUABLE CJO.\MI1»F.nATI«HV we have fur¬ 
nished Mr. J. K. HTArronn One Hundred ef onr choicest 
Ilecipts for Cooking, Baking, Milking Cronins, Pastry, Preserves, 
Ac./Ac. SIMEON LELAND A CO. 
MetropoUlnu Hotel, Broadway, New York. 
The above Uor.lpos, which art Copyrighted, will ho Mint free of 
pontage on receipt of tour letter stamps, by 
SSbtf J. Ii. STAFFORD, 16 State street. Now York. 
D a. (J. 8, FITCH'S "NIX I.KUTUKES," 880 pages, 
3d ongruvlngs, bound, explanatory of the treatment by 
wldeh ho cures Coksumi no*, Astiiha. DimCAitM or tiik 
Hrakt,Throat. Stomach, Howkls, Livxr, Kinnivs and Hitirt, 
Fkkxoc Oomi'I.aiatr, trruvtt, Ac , scut by mall, nod postage 
prop old,/or to cents. Apply to Dr, 8, R. PI TCH. 
ill Broadway, New Fork. 
Do him tio other ofllce either at Chicago, Buffalo, Pitts¬ 
burgh, oi alsowhoro. lie Is never absent from New York, and 
no physician elsewhere Is anthortsed to 1190 bis niune. 3H7wi3 
1857. SUMMER ARRANGEMENT. 1867. 
LAKE SHORE A-TSTD 
MICHIGAN SOUTHERN RAILROAD LINK! 
r|l H K M06T DIRECT AND EXPEDITIOUS 
JL Route thorn 
Biillitio to ClovelMd, Uoluitibus, Cincinnati, 
Toledo, C lit in go, Milwaukee, Gulcua, Rock 
laliunl, HtirUuKloti, Dubuque, Hu Paul, 
Mnrilaau, l.'uiro, HI. I.oula, 
And ail Points in tho West mid Bouth-WtinL 
Train* ioavu Buffalo from Exchanga street Depot connecting 
will all Eastern Train* a* follows, (Sundays Excepted: 
7.00 A M. Express Midi, stopping nt all principal Stations— 
Arrives at Dunklck 8.55 AM., Erie I0.IU A M, Clcvolmid 2.3U 
P. M | Dine, I Toledo 7 65 P M. (Hup..) Chicago 6 26 next morn¬ 
ing, connecting with oil Western, Southern A Northern Line*. 
10.10 A. M. Lightning Bknrers, slop* only for wood und wa¬ 
ter—Arrives ai Dunkirk 121)6 Noon, [Dine,] Erie 1 56 P. M., 
Cleveland 6)6 P U. (Snp..| Toledo B' IS P M.. ChlcngohOO 
A M next morning, uiaklng direct connection* with ell line* 
to the Wont. North mid South. 
B.46 I’. M. Way Express, to Krlo uiily—arrtvo* nt Erie at H.ZO 
y M.—n,fuming, leavub Trie 5 Du A. M., and arrives at Buf¬ 
falo lOOtl A 51. 
o.ow I*. SI. Night Express, stops only for wood aud water— 
Arrives *t Dunkirk 11 00 P. M . Erie 12 10 A. M„ Cleveland 
CIO A >1 IB rim It hot, J Tolodo 8.SY A. M | Dine at Whit* Ptg- 
oon.l and arrive* ut Chicago 4 t6 P. M. same evtnlng, con¬ 
necting iis above 
The shove Trains connect at Clovelmid 
FOR COLUMBUS, RrmnoPlKLI*. uillofl, INDIAN¬ 
APOLIS. CINCINNATI, 
And ull Points South, Leaving Cleveland u follown; 
Via COLUMBUS, nt 615 A.M. A00 P. M 610 P. M. 
Via CLYDE A DAYTON, 4 to A M 835 A. M. 510 P M. 
For KT LOUIS, via BcDelonWin*. Columbus, or Cincin¬ 
nati. 5 15 A M. AlkiP. M <530 P.M 
Connection* arc also mode at Toledo with the 
TOI.RnO. WABASH A WESTKRH RAILROAD. 
For Ft. \Forne, Wabash. Peru. Logensport. La Fayette, 
Danville Springfield, and Si I .out*. 
FAKE AR LOW AN 11V ANY OTHER ROUTE. 
BAGGAGE CHECKED THKOUOH 
To Cincinnati, Toledo, Chicago, St Louis, Milwaukee and 
all Principal paint* West mid Sooth-Wont, 
tyTHKIHIUU TICKETS BY THIS ROUTE con be ob¬ 
tained at sll the ptlnclpul Ticket offices In the United States, 
and tn Buffalo, at Oin Company'll Ticket office, Exchange street 
Depot, also at the 
General, Union Ticket Office, No, 17 Exchange St. 
A J HARLOW', Agent !«» 
Ang, 1857. WH. R. BAKU, Gen’l Agent, Buffalo. 
ESTABLISHED ITST 18S3S. 
C. A . BURK <fc CO., 
I MPORTERS, MANUFACTURERS AND 
Dealer* In 
W»toho«, Jowolry and Diamonds Plain mid Fancy 
Silver Ware. Ji*tno Table Cutlor.v, Silver 
Plated Good*, and » groat Varioty 
Of Fancy Articles. ... 
Onr assortment oi thu above Good* Is the largest to be found, 
bihJ thtf prlcoA th<» niOMt imutoimblo. Wo Invito tho attention of 
tho*e who wish to examine or purchase. 
O. A. Uckk, 1 No. 2 State St., Rochester, N. Y. 
Jtro T. Fox, > 586U 
Cns* II. Wsss. J 
COLLEGIATE IN"STITUTK, 
Rochester, IST. Y. 
L. R. SATTERLEE & J. E. DEXTER, Principals. 
riMIK FALL TERM OF THIS INSTITUTION will eom- 
J. muncc on Miiiiai. Hepu inlisr 7th 
Tho Course ol Study and Term* ot Tuition remain unchang¬ 
ed from lust rear. The Board ot Instruction also continues 
the same, with a single exception. I)r. Sr.Ai.RK, late Princi¬ 
pal of tile Muniii. fiOHOOl.. at Lima, ha* become permanently 
connected with the Institution, mid will hereafter tench a por¬ 
tion of each day and co-operate with tile Principals 111 the gen¬ 
era! direction und munxgemont of tlio Boarding Dspor'inerit. 
Provtniou I* made In the new Hoarding llotise for forty student*. 
The rooms lire perfectly ventilated, lighted with gas. and taste¬ 
fully furnished The Principals, with their fond lie* mid several 
of the Teachers reside In tho Bnllding, 
Expenses lor Board, Tuition. Light, Washing, Book* and Sta¬ 
tionery, $25n per year, payabln tpiartcrly in advance There 
ore no extras or Incidental oxpenre* 
the Illinois central railroad co. 
O FFER FOR SAI.K OVER l,B1H>,00<> ACRES SELECTED 
Punning mid Wood In Tract* ol Korty wres nnd ui>- 
WHirffl, to mill purchtecriis au 
Long Credit* and at Low Rates of Interest 
Pami'll lets, contouring Mans, description of Lands, end other 
Udbnautlun valuable to the Western Emigrant, will be sontfreo 
of postage by addressing . - 
358tf JOHN rUKNING, lien Ag't., Buffalo, N. Y., or 
JOHN WILHUN, 1 ,nn d Com'r L C. R. R., Chic.. 1 II 
JT„ SiYGrJd db NONH, 
M U H IG 1 J UB LI 8 H K R8, 
NO. 309 MAIN STHEBT. BUFFALO. 
PiAitoa and Mat-ouxo** from tho host Fuctoileoln the Union, 
for sale at makers price*. 
MOORES RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
Tint MlAPraU WKV.KLY 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper, 
is rnnuxirkn kvinr satukkat 
UY IL I>. T. MOO UK, liOCiLEOTElt, N- Y. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite the Court House. 
TERMS, IN ADVANOK: 
Two Doluaks A Yba ii—11 for six month* To Clubs and 
Agents as follows:-—Three Copies one year, for $-< J Six (topic* 
(and oue to Agent or ge»«r npof Club,)for *10; Ten < 'opto* (»ud 
onc'to Agent.) for *15. and any additions! number at Hi* same 
rate, |$l,5(l per copy ) An we ure obliged to pro-pay tho Ameri¬ 
can postage on papers sent to tho British Provinces, our Cana¬ 
dian agent* and friend* must add Ui>i cunts per copy to tho 
club rates of the Rdkau 
I 3 T* Subscriber* wishing their paper* changed from one Post 
Office to another, should he particular In specifying the office* 
at which they are now received. 
Al)VKitTt8iK0— Brier mid appropriate advertisements will be 
Inserted at 25 cent* a line, each Insertion, payable In advance. 
Onr rule I* to give no advertlaemont, unless very brief, more 
than four consecutive Insertion*. Patent Modlcluos, Ac., are 
not advertised In the Rural on uny conditions. 
Wiiail'iihi l ii’iiiiiihihiiiieiiiiihi | iiiiil<dhi’brbiii/hiainiiigiiiiiiigiiiiu>iiMinifiiiii,iuii,n l niiio<u>uiW'aui | i^aibiigw<u>u | u’vagiiihihi<iiniiiii'ii'u , wi>rhihi’a'uiwwiirar<u'u , baiiwwh/ , a , ig 
