THOROUGH, PRACTICAL 
BUSINESS EDUCATION. 
unconcern as a more experienced man of tbe 
world avould have done. I walked leisurely 
dowu Broadway until I came to a “jeweler's” 
shop. Here I bought a splendid sporting watch, 
and returned to my room minus three hundred 
dollars. As I stood before my mirror that even¬ 
ing. arranging my toilet, I fancied to myself the 
contrast between tbe “gentleman” 1 thou was 
and the- in significant, stripling from the country 
village one month before. That evening my 
friends “on the top shelf” called at my room, 
and gave me au invitation to accompany them 
to No. 4, for the purpose of meeting some inti¬ 
mate friends. That night was my first experi- 
lien CC in gambling. I won live hundred dol¬ 
lars. formed many acquaintances, and was called 
“ a fine fellow.” 
Previous to this I bad received letters from 
my parents and friends at T-; they receiving 
no reply from me, now wrote urging me to 
inform them of my success in my new position. 
But I was “living on tbe top shelf” and felt 
that they were beneath my notice. Tims things 
passed on, change after change, and at the close 
of two years 1 was without means; scarcely a 
penny in my pocket — no friends, except a few 
companions on “the top shelf,” equally penni¬ 
less—my companions, who had drawn me into 
their snare only for the purpose of getting my 
money, left me when they had accomplished 
this. Thus at the end of two short years 1 was 
deserted by every one. My face wore a frown, 
my eyes were red with late hours and alcoholic 
drinks; bail habits had completely mastered me 
and led their willing victim whither they would. 
1 was contented; for rum had so gained posses¬ 
sion of me, that it was at her shrine I bowed, 
and 1 drank my sweetest draughts of happiness 
in revelry with her dupes. When unfed by the 
flames of her brilliancy, I bated myself, my 
position, and poured curses upon the heads of 
my deceivers. 
One evening as I was sitting in the “bar” I 
received a letter which 1 recognized as coming 
from my father. 1 opened it. and read to my 
astonishment that he was informed of my 
career, and would start the next week to seek 
me, and. if possible, induce me to return with 
him to T-. For a moment I revolved the 
subject in my mind, and the thought of meeting 
him was more than I could bear. I therefore 
resolved not to see him, and that evening made 
arrangements to leave the city. A comrade 
gave me a small sum, and the next morning at 
daybreak I started for parts unknown. I 
plodded on from day to day until I eamc to tlic 
city of L-, about a hundred miles distant. 
Here I changed my name, and commenced my 
career of “living on the top shelf” in that city. 
Reader, the details of the thirty years that 
followed I must leave untold. Suffice it to say 
they were years of misery, and only fraught 
with id. One evening, as l was wandering 
along the street, 1 heard some one say, “ he 
paid dearly for his whistle.” These words rang 
in my ears again and again! I went to my 
crib of straw that night, not to sleep, but to 
reflect. My whole history since that fatal morn¬ 
ing came thronging upon mj memory during 
that long sleepless night otagony. It seemed 
as if L coul* beur my mouhev'a voice singing 
as merrily as on the evening previous to my 
departure. Those kindly words of admonition 
haunted me. The next day I concluded to 
return to tbe home of my youth, to see if any 
trace of father, mother, friends or play-mates 
stiil remained. After the lapse of nearly forty 
y^ns 1 once more breathe the pure air of the 
quiet village of T-. But t ime has wrought 
many changes in my childhood’s home. My 
father's dwelling has given way to the costly 
edifice, and the marble slab .near the gray 
church tower marks tbe last resting place of its 
occupants, while T, a feeble relic, still remain. 
A life course of debauchery has well nigh sap¬ 
ped my once robust frame of its life. I can 
testify to the misery the sparkling wine-cup 
brings, for I have wallowed in the mire of tilth 
to satisfy athirst for life on “ the top shelf,” and 
counseled, as a friend, the demon—Rum. The 
shades of evening are falling round me as I sit 
among the scenes and associations of my early 
home, and sigh, vainly, for the return of my 
boyhood's days. The sun rises as beautifully 
now as then, and the song of the red-lueast is as 
sweet as when I heard it last; but to me they 
bring no comfort. 
Time lias engraven bis wrinkles upon iny 
forehead, and my temples are whitened with the 
frosts of age. And now I vafnly wish that I 
were young again, that I might once more 
mingle with the youthful throng and dream 
again those happy dreams. Yes,)OUtli, friends, 
playmates, lame, honor, health, wealth, ease, 
luxury—all are gone, and leave me only the sad 
remembrance of all t wished to gain. Although 
my days are far gone, y<% for fear of wounding 
the feelings of any who may yet survive, it 
were better that my name should remain untold. 
Others who may indulge the thought, may sigh 
when, too late, they find that ease and happi¬ 
ness purchased by “living on the top shelf” is 
fraught with many dangers; they who attempt 
it, in the end usually “pay dear for their 
whittle.” But 1 must hasten to pay my devo¬ 
tions to that Being who has reserved for me ail 
hour of peace before I die. 
It unis vi lie, Feb., 18W. 
ity, I might “live upon the top shelf," and 
bathe in its golden sunlight; where I might 
enjoy ease, luxury, honor, wealth, and bid defi¬ 
ance to labor, want, dishonor, and, perhaps, 
penury itself. 
Thus time passed on, although to me very 
slowly. Slowly! yes, the duys seemed like 
years. The desire to become a “gentleman” 
rankled in ray besom, and each day and week 
called loud and louder for egress. At length 
the long looked for day came, and immediately 
g the necessary arrange* 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HE LOST HIS ARM. 
IIe lost bis nrm!—be told me so 
As we rode in the crowded car- 
lie lost bis arm I uud a thrill of woo 
Swept over his face, with a pallor slow, 
That ennobled each manly tear. 
There were lines of care on hia youthful brow, 
And Ids chcok was blanched with pain; 
His once bright eye was misty now, 
But the prond young spirit would not. allow 
The gush of the briny rain. 
lie lost ids arm—his brave right arm— 
The faithful friend of life; 
The hand that had borne the victorious palm, 
And shielded the weak from approaching harm 
In the battle’s deadly strife, 
He had fought and bled for the cause of Right, 
For the sake of the loved at home: 
His hopes were fair, Me prospects bright, 
But a cloud of woe, and a bitter blight, 
Athwart his dreams had come. 
He lost his arm! and 1 bent to hear 
Him tell how the missile came 
Mid the burning shot, and the maddening fleer 
Of the screeching shell, as it hovered near 
On its pinion of scorching flame. 
How he gave no thought to the flood of fire, 
As it hurst in its lava tide; 
But with a foot that, conld never tire 
He sprung on the living funeral pyre, 
Then fell on the other side 
He lost his arm. In that surging sea 
Of living and dying men 
He sunk, and w»9 swayed right fearfully 
On the waves of thought, of the soon “ to be,”— 
Of death, and its waiting “ Then!' 1 ' 
Bat he felt that over Ms heart had conic 
The calm of a whispered Pease: 
His mother was praying for him at home— 
And life or death, lie which bis doom, 
Her prayers would never cease. 
He lost his arm, for the flashing steel 
Dissevered tbe shattered limb, 
And wild with pain did his blood congeal, 
nis nerves quivered, when he did feel 
The saw on its errand grim; 
But he closed liis eyes, and without a moan 
From his pallid lips compressed, 
And he nobly bore the blow alone; 
Without a sigh or a whispered tone, 
Or a heave of Ms beating breast. 
He lost liis arm, they laid it away— 
It had been a faithful friend: 
It bad served him well in youth’s early day, 
Its mission was done, and it could not stay 
’Till life’s longer journey's end. 
So he clasped the hand in a mute “good-bye”— 
The hand that was cold and fair— 
In the living hand, whose puise treat high 
With the throes of hope, and could not die, 
Though its mate lay lifeless there. 
He lost his arm, hnt the line of health 
Stole again to his.boyish Mow, 
And his chestnut curls in a waving wealth 
Which toss and play with a sunny stealth, 
Are clustering over it now. 
He had started for home, and was on Ms way, 
As we met in the crowded car— 
And though ’was only yesterday, 
I’ve pondered each word I heard him say— 
And memory printed each scar. 
He lost his arm, but a badge of pride 
Is that empty sleeve, I ween, 
As it hangs so listlessly at his side, 
Or is tossed by the breezes that round Mm glide, 
As it oft perchance hath been. 
He has met his mot her, I know, ere this— 
And I think of the meeting warm, 
Of the one-armed pressure, the hallowed kiss, 
And the coming years of a mother's bliss— 
For she'll be Mb fond right arm. 
Bethany, N. Y., 1804. Mollie. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA 
ADAPTED TO THE WANTS OF 
ALL CLASSES OP YOUNG MEN, 
I am composed of 40 letters. 
My 38,11,10, 8, 2 is a domestic animal. 
My 4, 80, 10 , 27, 7, 34,13 is a girl’s name. 
My 17, 10, 0, 25, 30, I t, 28 is a county in Michigan. 
Mv 12, 15, 80, 21, 30 is a part, of the body. 
My 22, 11. 14, 30, R are made of my 10, 2, 5, 82,1,18, 27 
arc worn on the feet by my 17, 31,10, 8,10, 26, 35, 
,VHETHER IN THE 
coujvtijyg - room , mjjvvfactor i ’, 
I commenced rnukin, 
meats in order to carry my cherished plans into 
execution. 
My mother was one of those good old dames 
who provide for the future In the present. Hie 
had long noticed that my mind w as wandering, 
and had manufactured an abundance of wearing 
apparel, such as socks, glove-*, drawers, and 
many articles of like nature; and as she became 
convinced that it was my fixed determination to 
leave the paternal roof, she labored with mi-* 
ceasing energy day after day. and fur aught 1 
know, night after night, for. long after retiring, 
I could hear her singing, as she was accustomed 
to do when busily engaged iu sewing. Mean¬ 
while, my father was busy iu disposing of sur¬ 
plus grain and stock for the purpose of giving 
me a start, as I should go forth into the world. 
I was very fond of company, and in the social 
circle I was contented. Tbe little village was 
my native place, and with the youth of T-I 
was as familiar as with t he goddess of the morn¬ 
ing. Every nook iu that vicinity was as a well 
studied map. 
Even the song of t.he “red-breast” seemed 
as familiar as the voice of friends, when, on the 
day previous to my departure, I strolled’ pen¬ 
sively through the grove near my father’s garden. 
Then, and not till then, did I feci lonely in 
wandering there. Once or twice big tears 
started to my eyes, hut I dashed them from me, 
fancying to myself that there were many happy, 
happy hours in store for me. On the morning 
of the 10th of May, 18—, as the sun lose over 
the eastern hills, it seemed to shine more bril¬ 
liantly than ever before. The little birds dipped 
their wings in the pellucid waters of the little 
streamlet, and the young lambkins sported upon 
the hillside. ♦ 
It appeared as if all nature had decked herself 
in her gayest livery to wish me a happy future. 
That night as I lay restlessly reclining upon my 
bed, a thousand visions flitted before my eyes,— 
a thousand “dreamy fancies" filled my mind. 
I sought repose in nature's “sweet consoler,” 
sleep; but alas! I waked. A monitor from 
within served to interrogate me, saying, 
“Whither, O youth, art thou straying?” 
Should I heed such a thought? I, a youth, full 
of spirit and gifted with health? Absurd! I 
stretched myself upon my bed with au expres¬ 
sion of self-satisfaction. 
At ten o'clock the next morning the coach 
was at the door. My well-filled trunk was 
placed upon the rack, and, with many a heart- 
spoken “Good-bye” to brothers, sitters and 
friends, a mother’s parting kiss and affectionate 
farewell, 1 stepped into the coach, and started 
tor the city of A-. My father took a seat 
beside me in the coach, and rode some distance. 
He gave me a thousand dollars and asked me 
what business I intended to follow. But with 
a smile I evaded an answer. He did not press 
his question, hut giving me a kindly admonition 
to be honest and industrious, he gave me the 
parting band and left the coach. He stood long, 
watching the coach until it turned into another 
avenue, and he was lost to my view. What his 
thoughts were, who can tell? How must he 
have reflected that his tirsbborn should have 
refused to answer an honest interrogation ? But 
I was going to “Jive on the top shelf;" this 
occupied my thoughts and engrossed my atten¬ 
tion during ray journey to A-. The first 
thing after my arrival in that city was to seek 
employment as a clerk in a dry goods store; and, 
without difficulty, I succeeded in finding em¬ 
ployment. The proprietor teemed to fancy me, 
and the next morning I commenced my labor. 
My employer was a wealthy, well-to-do man, 
not one of your “dandy” men, but, I soon 
thought, no “gentleman,” Everything about 
his premises was neat, tidy, and in its proper 
place. Time passed along for a month; but by 
this time 1 came to the conclusion that the situ¬ 
ation of clerk was not above the position which 
I had formerly occupied. In short, it was not 
favorable to the object In view. So, one morn¬ 
ing I told my employer I had concluded to 
change my occupation. He looked surprised ax 
this remark. “ Had he wronged me* Was the 
labor too arduous? IVas my salary insuffi¬ 
cient?” As I did not. answer promptly, lie 
offered me ten dollars per month in advance if 
I would remain in his employ. But Ids oiler 
was no temptation to me, and 1 stammered out 
something about labor and position. The object 
of “gentleman” rankled in my bosorn and gave 
me no peace of mind. Finding that his efforts 
to secure my services were unavailing, lie paid 
me for my hire, we exchanged “ good morning,” 
and I left the store. 
My next visit was to a “ hotel,” where I en¬ 
gaged board at five dollars per w eek. That day 
seemed the longest I evoi saw. \ sat uneasy in 
my room most of the day, wondering how i 
should carry my cherished plans into execution. 
That evening I went into the “ bar,” and 
found some of the “gentry” there. Mine host 
gave me an introduction to the leading ones, and 
that was enough. That liighl was a happy one 
tome. My dreams were being realized. The 
next day I purchased a new suit, and laid aside 
those garments w hich my parents selected with 
great care. From the clothing establishment I 
went to the “ barbers,” and paid one dollar for 
having my hair cropped, powdered, Ac.. <te. 
As L turned to go away, he offered me a cigar, 
and, although I had never taken such a tiling 
into my mouth, 1 took it with as much apparent 
F.iRjnjJYG,.ni:cnJiJYrcjTy, or rao 
FJESSIO.n,~JJj JiUTJFS OF JjIFF. 
My 37. 10, 15, B is a kind of insect. 
My 24, 5, 22, 10, 26 is an article of furniture. 
My 20, 40, 85, IS is a sacred song. 
My 33, 20, 0 is a personal pronoun. 
My whole is a proverb of Solomon. 
Coin mbUE, Mich., 1S64. J. M. Bbainerd. 
[[■gp” Answer in two weeks. 
EASTMAN’S MODEL 
For Moore’s Raimi New-Yorker. 
CHARADES OF COUNTIES. 
A row piece of ground, and the whole of anything. 
Ati article of dress, anil one of the twelve months. 
A certain mode of I raveling, a vowel and a consonant, 
A place of public sale, and a preposition. 
A paternal appellation, and a vowel 
A conveyance, and to rovolvo. 
One dearly beloved, and the fashionable. 
An exclamation, and one of God’s greatest blessings. 
East Lansing, N. Y. J. a. b. 
£jif~ Answer in two weelcB. 
Furnishes advantages superior to any other Institution 
In the country, In Its PECULIAR and original mode 
of Instruction, 
COMBINING THEORY AND PRACTICE, 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
A PUZZLE. 
TnE sntn of my whole equals 157. Divide me into 
five equal parts and one of the parts will be 100 times 
another part Take four-fifths of myself from myself 
and over half still remains. I am not a barbarian, 
neither am I enlightened, but I :uu just 5-Oths civilized. 
"Watertown, N. Y., 1804. A. M. Anderson. 
EF” Answer in two weeks. 
Is conducted by the Principal himself, and not left to 
inefficient and unexperienced teachers, as is often the 
case in institutions established for speculative 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
purposes. 
The wants of tiie student are well understood, and at¬ 
tended to. and hence our success in qualifying young 
men in tbe shortest possible time, and at less expense 
than at any other Business School in the land. 
For particulars send for the College Journal. 
Address A. K. EASTMAN, Principal. 
Tf the earth were a perfect sphere of uniform density, 
and if it were divided into two equal parts by a plane 
passing through the equator, how great a force applied 
at each pole, would tie necessary to separate t lie two 
hemispheres? * as he it B. Evans. 
Nundn, N. Y., 1SG4. 
Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 735. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Post-Office De¬ 
portment. 
Answerto Enigmatical TownsRenton, Green castle, 
Crownpoint, Warsaw, Mayfield, Coldwater, George¬ 
town, 11 arrow gate, Leghorn, Appleton, Elklon. 
Answer to Anogrnm : 
Sculptors of life are we as we stand, 
With onr souls uncovered before ns, 
Waiting the tioar when at God’s command 
Our life dream pa-ses O'er us. 
If we carve it. then on the shapeless stone 
With many a sharp incision. 
Its heavenly 'bounty shall he our own. 
Our lives an angel vision 
Answer to Ingenious Tilzzle: 
Fifty, - - - . - L 
Naught. - - - - O 
Five, V 
One-quarter of each. - . - - E 
Answer to Puzzle:—Fonr excellent maxims: “Be 
intent on doing right-” -Owe Nothing.” “Be Hon¬ 
est. -> - Live in peace with all.” 
From the Rochester Dally Union and Advertiser. 
The Eastman Commercial College. —Old city res¬ 
idents need not be reminded ns to when, nor Informed 
by whose ingenious and driving energy, the entire plan 
of systematic business education took Its rise, or in 
whose bands It lias received, through the favorable ap¬ 
preciation of the people of twelve of the ihirty-oue 
States, it* present full development and Its notable sue. 
cess. It must be now, sonic twenty years slnee the late 
G. Wi Eastman commenced what may be termed ids 
mi-ion among us. With bis then acknowledged talent 
for Itmlructloni and an early and persistent aim at ex¬ 
cellence, It would be somewhat strange If that gentle¬ 
man had not Introduced some valuable Improvements 
in methods of commercial schooling, or enlarged its 
scope and consequent utility. He did both. With the 
assistance of Ids brother, at that time a man of long and 
varied experience in business, he Invented and insti¬ 
tuted a new ritual of accounts, and produced from the 
fertile prechits of his active brain the original expe¬ 
dient offKACnCAh BUSINESS TRANSACTIONS in COU- 
UCCtlon with theoretical book-keeping and business 
lectures. With Infinite care and study lie expanded and 
improved the new system, perfected Its details and ap¬ 
plied Its principles to the extent of launching out upon 
the mercantile world thousands of young experts, not 
amateurs, completely competent to any and every clerk¬ 
ly duty known to trade or commerce. 
Wo are pleased to note that the Eastman’s College, 
notwithstanding the loss of Its projector and President 
goes on its way triumphantly under the auspices of Pro¬ 
fessor A. It, Eastman, to whom we have alluded. To 
give such of our readers as have not yet availed them¬ 
selves of the general invitation to visit and I id pec t the 
balls and rooms a passing Idea of tills celebrated Insti¬ 
tution, we are at a loss for a better descriptive form of 
expression than this:—The school appeared to our per¬ 
ceptions not to be at all a school, hut rather a business 
world, or at least a city in miniature. The operations 
of merchandizing, Jobbing, forwarding, hanking, &c., as 
carried on Incessantly there, do not seem essentially 
diUVreut from similar transactions in our streets and 
counting-rooms. The Merchants’ Exchange, of New 
Yorker Loudon, presents Us array of the same eager 
mid calculating, or thoughtful faces, rather more wrink¬ 
led and bearded, it Is true, but scarcely more earnest or 
astute; business at Eastman’s Is as much business, as 
business In Broad, or Wall, or Third, or Chestnut Sts.; 
sales, shipments, transfers, Insurances, remittances aud 
collections are managed and effected precisely as in the 
outer world—perhaps with even more scrupulous ex¬ 
actness, by tbe me of the mall facilities of the College 
post-office department, by express, by telegraph, 
through the college honk or exchange office, at the em¬ 
porium of merchandise, the railroad depot, on the 
steamboat levee, the exchange or the counting-room, 
the interview, or the confidential note. 
Every student receives his own cash capital, and is 
started atonoo into real life as it were, by being put into 
some branch of business. As soon as lie Ls perfect in 
one department be is removed to another, until practi¬ 
cally familiar with all. 
The system Is admirable, its conception happy, and its 
execution at Eastman’s perfect in generality and detail. 
But its operation must be witnessed to be appreciated; 
aud we say no more, except to congratulate the public 
arid the pupils of the school on the acquisition of a new 
instructor of known ability In the operating Telegraphic 
Department, Mr. George A. Stearns, long and favorably 
known as a first-class operator and au enthusiastic 
teacher of his art. 737-2teum 
POKE THIIOAT, 
O COUGH, 
COLD, 
And similar troubles, if suffered to progress, result in 
serious Pulmonary. Bronchial and Asthmatic affections, 
oftentimes Incurable. 
BROWN'S BRONCHIAL TROCHES. 
are compounded so as to reach directly the seat of the 
disease and give almost instant relief. 735-it 
EVERY SOLDIER should sup¬ 
ply himself with a remedy to counter¬ 
act all the ills, diseases, scratches, and 
bruises that lie will he subjected to on 
Ids tiresome marches, and unhealthy 
Written for the Rural New-Yorker. 
LIVING ON THE TOP STIELE 
lop 3 '" 1 '- 6 '- 
DAVIS’ PAIN KILLER ls the rem 
c*dy sold by all dealers in medicines. 737-2t 
Prices, 35 cents, 75 cents, and $1,50 per bottle. 
BY W. B. CHAPMAN. 
It is an old and oft repealed maxim that 
“ young folks imagine old folk are fools, but old 
folks know young ones to be so.” It is strange, 
indeed, that so many young people fail to give 
credence to the remark that they “ pay dearly 
for their whistle” who seek to purchase ease, 
houor, Ac., without labor, without testing its 
truthfulness by experiment This was the ease 
with myself. My parents reared me in the 
quiet rural t illage of T-, gave me a good 
Academical education, and in this connection 
taught me to labor for a livelihood. They were 
Christian parents, and every evening before 
retiring to rest, they drew their little family 
around the old-fashioned fireside, and, after 
reading a chapter from the family Bible, invoked 
Divine guidance and blessings upon their chil¬ 
dren. If, by chance, any conversation arose 
concerning “ city life,”or “gentry,” they would 
say, “they pay dearly for (heir whistle,” and 
here the conversation would terminate. My 
father frequently took me to the city with him; 
and I noticed that those persons whom he styled 
“ dandies” and “ lops,” were always richly 
clad, and, what was of no little curiosity to me, 
they seemed apparently at ease,—standing idly 
at some corner of a busy street, driving a beau¬ 
tiful “ black,” or lolling quietly at the counter 
of some “restaurant” or bar-room,—nothing to 
mar their happiness! They were bowed to. 
were chatted with by the “ elite,” (so styled,) 
and, withal, nature seemed to have given them 
greater facilities for entertaining and attracting 
company, tb an to the mass of mankind. Friends 
seemed to flock around them at every corner, 
alley aud bar-room; rings, bracelets and fobs of 
rarest beauty glistened as they passed; oils and 
perfumery scented their person, and it seemed 
as if their cup had been filled to overflowing. 
This was quite a contrast with my humble 
lot; with the dull monotony of a small village, 
and'the labor of books, spade, hoe, scythe, etc., 
Ac.,— and I longed for my majority, when, 
throwing oh the shackles of my parent’s author- 
In those cases of scanty, retarded growlh, where tlic 
person Is over is, by It* remark able iioui'lslilng and stim¬ 
ulating power, the Tennessee Swamp Shrub Balsam lias 
been round Infallible, In exciting llie Beard, Moustache, 
Ac., to wi exceedingly fine and vigorous growth. The 
history of this Balsam, with a small sample box, will be 
sent sealed, on receipt of return postage. 
733co-lf JOHN RAWLINS,M6 Broadway, N. Y. 
Auburn Publishing Cods 
BOOK AGENT’S HEAD - QUARTERS. 
rpHEY HAVE THE LATEST. LARGEST. CTTRAP- 
1 KhT AND REST SKI.I.I Nc, IIIMOKY OK THU HK- 
IIKLUON, and other very popular books, for which 
they want good ugeuts In all purls of the country 
Money ls plenty, ami ive guarantee a dally profit of from 
six to ten dollars. For full particulars, write soon to 
780-eowtf K. U. BTOKKIC, Auburn, N. Y. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
TUB LAltGEST-CIUCULATING 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper, 
IS PUBLISH BD EVERY SATURDAY BY 
D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
TERMS, 7.Y : 
Two nothin, u Year — To Clubs and Agents as fol¬ 
lows:—Three Copies one year, for $5; Six, and one free 
to club agent, for $ 10 ; Ten, and one free, for $15; and 
any greater number at same rate —only $i.5U per copy. 
Glut, papers directed to individuals and Sent tons many 
different I’ost-OiUces as desired. As we prepay Ameri¬ 
can postage on copies sent abroad, $1.70 1 b the lowest 
Club rate for Canada, and $2.50 to Europe,— but during 
the present rate of exchange, Canada Agents or Sub¬ 
scribers remitting for the Rural in bills of tlieir owu 
specie-paying banks Will not be charged postage. The 
beat way to remit Is by Draft on New York, (less co6t. of 
exchange,!—snd all drafts mode payable to the order Of 
the Publisher, may be mailkd at uis jusk. 
'Hie Postage on the Rural Nkw-Yokkkr is only 6 
cents per quarter to any part of Lille Stale, (except Mon¬ 
roe county, where It goes Iren.) aud the same to any 
otlier Loyal State, if pant quarterly in advance where 
received. 
Hired to Kooheatety N. V—All persous having occa¬ 
sion to address the RUKAI, Nkw-Youkkii, will please 
direct to Rochester, At 17, and not, as many do, to New 
York, Albany, Buffalo, ,te, Money Letters Intended for 
us are frequently directed and mailed to the above places. 
The positive, who exactly knows, is a skele¬ 
ton at the feast—-that exactness is numbness and 
chills every expansive guest. Dogma is a stop¬ 
page quite short of the nearest beginning; the 
liberal habit the beginning of all that lias no 
end. Wittlom explores and never confltides. 
The charter of man’s liberty is in lii.s soul, not 
his estate. No piled up wealth, no social station, 
no throne reaches as high as that spiritual plane 
upon which every human being stands by virtue 
of his humanity. 
