44 Whose fault Is it, father ?” he said low, hut 
bitterly, and left the room abruptly. 
William Dexter, pacing those magnificent 
parlors amidst the unquenched blaze of light 
that flamed all through them, pondered this 
question, but found no solution of it 
Whose fault was it? Not bis. What eould 
man do more than he had done for his children 
—for Raymond ? 
Raymond, pacing his own apartment a while, 
and finally, with an impatient shrug, throwing 
himself dressed as he was upon his bed, found 
no solution for it either. 
Waking in the morning, Victoria Field’s crys¬ 
tal toy dangled before him, and flashed taunting 
gleams in his eyes the sun struck it With 
an impatient movement he swept the curtain 
between him and it. What did the girl mean 
by telling him 6he wished he would break the 
flask? What would become of ber young oak 
if he did that? 
A plague upon the cold, strange girl! There 
were plenty of women—women worth having, 
too, who would have jumped at the offer she 
had refused. There was Laura Mason, now, 
the handsomest woman in New York, and the 
cleverest. She hadn’t any fault to find in him, 
and he wouldn’t have been afraid to wager any 
sum anybody pleased, that if he had asked her 
to be his wife she would have said “ yes," and 
44 thank you,” too. He had half a mind to set 
up a flirtation with her, just to show Victoria 
Field how little he was affected by her ambi¬ 
guities. _ 
consciousness as to the meaning of the girl he 
fancied he loved, he had a most singular habit 
of thrilling and turning scarlet every time he 
thought of her little hand upon his arm, and her 
beautiful, wistful eyes upon his face. 
53,818 SOLD IN 1863—54,211 SOLD in the FIRST 6 MONTHS of 1804 
BV J. G HOLLANIi. 
The clouds are returning after the rain 
All the long mom mg they steadily sweep 
From the bine North-west, o'er the upper raRin, 
In a peaceful flight to their Eastern sleep. 
With sails that the cool wind fills or furls. 
And shadows that darken the billowy grass, 
Freighted with amber or piled with pearls, 
Fleets or fair argosies rise and pass. 
The earth smiles back to the smiling throng 
From greening pasture and blooming field, 
For the earth that had sickened with (hirst so long 
Has been touched by the hand of The Rain and 
healed. 
The old man sits ’neath the tall elm trees, 
And watches the pageant with dreamy eyes, 
While Ms white, locks stir to the same cool breeze 
That scatters the silver along the skies. 
The old man’s eyeiids arc wet with tears— 
Tears of sweet pleasure and sweeter pain— 
For his thoughts are driving back over the years 
In beautiful clouds after life’s )ODg rain. 
Sorrows that drowned all the springs of his life, 
Trials that crushed him with pitiless beat, 
Storm? of temptation and tempests of strife, 
Float o’er Ms memory tranquil and sweet. 
And the old man’s spirit, made soft and bright 
By the long, long rain that had bent him lpw, 
Sees a vision of angels on wings of white, 
In the trooping clouds as they come and go. 
IX. 
In the deep, wide parlors, that night, Rose 
Dexter entertained ber “ thousand and one’’ 
friends, or something less—a gay crowd, with 
the surge of music and plumes and perfume 
among it, and the flash of bright eyes and fdo- 
till ant, diamonds Dainty little Rose bad ad¬ 
mirers enough to have turned wiser beads than 
hers; but. the worst of it was, that she was in¬ 
clined decidedly to a preference among them. 
There was a pair of eyes hovering always 
somewhere witbin view of ber that slowly and 
reluctantly took in that knowledge, and the 
graying brows above those eyes knit themselves 
and frowned anxiously at the consciousness. 
Two only of the danglers in the beauty’s train 
did these eyes see. Leeds Entresol and Frank 
Brandon. Leeds Entresol, tall, dark, magnifi¬ 
cent, with a voice deep and vibrant as a smoth¬ 
ered cataract, and a jetty wealth of whisker and 
moustache. Rose both sought his glance and 
shrank from it. The other, Frank Brandon, a 
slight, careless, graceful young fellow, as light, 
as the first was dark—gay, laughing, genial; 
but with neither laugh nor geniality for any 
one in the room save pretty, pretty Rose. She 
blushed often at some things he said to her: but 
she laughed too, and the blush might have been 
as much for Entresol as for Brandon, since 
often the one could not well help hearing what 
the other said. 
Entresol said little, Brandon much, and Bran¬ 
don was scarcely absent from her side an instant 
the whole evening, when it was possible to be 
by her. 
Entresol seemed swayed by circn ms lances 
near or away, as it chanced; but with his eye 
losing none of her pretty witcheries, the smiling 
coquetteries, which she dispensed about her. 
Perhaps he could hear across the room, or else 
had singular facility in translating the move¬ 
ment. of Rose’s tripping lips, for though at the 
other side of the wide parlor, when, with a fur¬ 
tive glance at him and a low, thrilling laugh, 
she said something to Brandon about the Black 
Prince, he made his way at once from the par¬ 
lors, and deputing his farewell courtesies to a 
friend, left the house. 
Among the throng, but not of them, paced 
William Dexter, banker and millionaire. It 
was so rare—his presence in such scenes—even 
in his own house, that lew knew bim even, and 
from those w ho did he kept mostly aloof. A 
grave, silent man, watching from under nearly 
gray brows—watching and commenting with 
inward discontent. 
The two emotions, passions, affections of this 
man’s life had been vested in gold and kindred— 
the getting the one and lavishing it upon the 
other. 
Ilis life ueed not have been sterile. The one, 
warmth and wideness ami softness, ought to 
have protected it from the barrenness and hard¬ 
ness that the other gendered. Yet his life was 
sterile, barren desert, as a rock in an unfruitful 
country. 
He had slaved, toiled like any bondman, early 
and late, that he might surround those two, 
Raymond and Rose, with this and this and this, 
no matter if it cost its weight in gold, so long as 
he bad it And the two were as prodigal as 
might be expected of the value of that of which 
they had no appreciation beyond the pleasure it 
purchased. 
He had refused them nothing all their lives 
that it wag possible for him to grant them, and 
the possibility had a wide range. And what 
was bis reward? He was pacing the parlors 
still when the last guest, Frank Brandon, lin¬ 
gered long, finally departed, with 3n expressive 
pressure of little Rose’s hand. 
William Dexter knew this young man for a 
scoundrel, notwithstanding his frank face and 
genial ways, and had forbidden Rose to hold any 
intercourse with him long enough before this 
evening. 
He had supposed himself obeyed; but this 
eveniug’s observation had shown him that, far 
from that being the case, the two were on sur¬ 
prisingly familiar terms. 
“Rose.” 
The girl turned from her light good night to 
young Brandon with a little nervous start. She 
had not been conscious of her father's presence 
all the evening, and she colored some now upon 
becoming aware of it, and remembering at the 
same time what he had said to ber about Frank 
Brandon. 
Mr. Dexter’s anger, under constraint all the 
evening, burst, forth now with proportionate 
violence. Rose shrank palely before it, and at 
the first lull in the storm escaped to her apart- 
ment. 
This was not all the evening’s happening. In 
an earlier portion of it Mr. Dexter had over¬ 
heard a conversation between some of the guests 
which bad stung him with the truth that had 
long been knocking at the door of his con¬ 
sciousness, but to which he had refused to listen 
until now. It c«ncerned Raymond; and Ray¬ 
mond entering the room just then from an ad¬ 
joining one, he turned upon him suddenly with 
a quotation from it that struck him suddenly 
white between anger and amazement: 
“ ‘ Raymond Dexter had in him originally the 
material for a man, but. a more conceited, brain¬ 
less coxcomb than he Is I don’t know in the ’ 
whole range of my acquaintance.’ ” 
Raymond caught his breath fairly. The words , 
expressed bo nearly a thought that had been 1 
vaguely trying to thread the chambers of his . 
brain ever since Victoria Field’s refusal to be- » 
come his wife. The spark that lurked under ; 
the effeminacy leaped suddenly now into flame i 
and died as quickly. 
witliont ttie WRINGER 
will* tlie WRLNGEK 
“ Life is too short and human strength too precious for our 4 womankind ’ to be kept at the 
old process of Washing and Wringing.”— Rev. T. L. Cuylkr ^ 
III. 
A week only had passed, but in the fast life 
which he had lived, Raymond Dexter had im¬ 
proved It to the extent of becoming or imagin¬ 
ing himself desperately in love with Laura 
Mason. 
One morning, in a careless, off-hand manner, 
very different from that on a similar occasion, 
about ten days before, he asked her the same 
question be had “Victoria Field, and got in sub¬ 
stance his “yes, thank you.’’—[Concluded on 
page SOo, present No. 
IN A NUT SHELL 
‘•I say, Rose, girls are a nuisance!—aren’t 
they ?” said Raymond Dexter, lounging at length 
among the silken cushions in his sister’s boudoir 
one morning. 44 1 wouldn’t give that!”—with 
a snap of his aristocratic fingers — 44 for the 
whole crew, so far as I know anything about 
them!” 
44 When did you see Victoria last?” questioned 
Rose, with an expressive lifting of her pretty 
brows. She was pretty, indeed —a dainty, 
showy, and pink piece of prettmess. 
Her brother, Raymond Dexter, was what the 
ladies called a “love of a man;” effeminately 
handsome and fastidious, sporting white hands 
and perfamed locks, yet a fnll-statured man 
physically, with a white broad brow that, ought 
to have had intellect under it, and a deep, dark 
eye that ought to have flashed with the language 
of an energetic and cultivated vitality. The 
flash i-ame transiently as his sister spoke; and 
he said, with some impatience, 
“Victoria Field is the greatest nuisance of 
them all F 
Victoria Field was the name of the latest edi¬ 
tion of womanhood that Raymond Dexter had 
had a grand passion for—a plain, dark woman, 
without even what Rose called “style.” The 
last woman in the world, one would have 
thought, for an exquisite like Raymond Dexter 
to fall in love with. Yet he had deliberately 
done so foolish as that, as Rose had shrewdly 
suspected. 
Victoria Field was at the bottom of the as¬ 
tounding ©pinion be had just expressed concern¬ 
ing 4 4 girls.” 
Rose, however, was far from apprehending 
the extent of the mischief. She would have 
opened her languid blue «ves to much more 
than their usual dimensions, il she had known 
that Miss Field—that plain, dark girl, with no 
style, and no beauty, and no expectations, so far 
as auybody knew—bad refused to become the 
wife of her brother Raymond—positively re¬ 
fused. Nay, more, and which rankled in his 
eonseiousneas still, when he, totally at a loss to 
understand such perversity toward invincibility 
like his, asked and politely pressed for a reason 
for her refusal, instead of telling him, as she 
had a perfect right to do, that her reasons were 
no concern of his, she rose and asked him, with 
that outspokenness which was one of her charms 
for him, if he expected her to give him her sole 
and only reason, or— He knew that that pause 
meant that if sbe could not give bim the true 
reason she would net give any; besides, as was 
natural, he wanted the truth, of course. 
She crossed the room then, and took from the 
window, where it hung, a little crystal flask, 
and brought it to him, put it in his hand, and 
stood looking at him with a sweet, grave, half- 
sad wistfulness- 
She bad beautiful eyes I 
The flask was one of those toys with which 
some curious people amuse themselves. We 
have ail beard of or seen such, I dare say. An 
acorn suspended by a thread from the mouth of 
the flask within had sprouted in that narrow 
compass and become an oak—an oak truly, but 
in miniature, dwarfed, and of course could only, 
ts present brilliancy past, drag out a sickly 
existence, and die at last in such confined quar¬ 
ters. 
Holding it so between his hands—awkwardly 
enough, too, considering that he was Raymond 
Dexter—Miss Field could hardly help seeing 
that her shaft had sped home. “What if i 
should break the flask?” he said, with a sudden 
abruptness and brevity surprising to himself. 
“I wish you would,” she said, eagerly, her 
hand falling lightly upon his arm. He stole a 
swift glance at the grave, sweet eyes that were 
regarding bim almost pleadingly, then, with a 
very vague consciousness of where, or what, or 
who he was, he said gooc1-morning,and left her. 
The flask, unbroken still, bung in the airiest 
place in his room, and be made it a principle 
not, to look toward it when he could possibly 
help it. What did the girl mean by giving him 
a 44 potted acorn,” as he called it. If he didn’t 
know what she meant he ought to have asked 
her—that’s all; and, for a man in a state of un- 
THE ONLY WRINGER WITH THE PATENT OOG-WHEEL REGULATOR. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
HISTORICAL ENIGMA 
NO FAMILY can afl’ord to do without a WRINGER, especially t in these times of 
I am composed «f 17 letters. 
My 3,16, 6, 7 ,15 is a General hi t.ne Union army. 
My 1, 4,16, 3, 6,14 was a former Governor of the Em¬ 
pire State 
My 9, 6, 16, 11 , 10 is a Representative from New Hamp¬ 
shire. 
My 5,13, U, 12,14,15 is a Representative from Indiana 
My 8, 0,2,15,12,14 was a candidate for the Vice Pres¬ 
idency. 
My 11, 4, J8, 7,15,16, 2 is what we all should love 
My whole is the motto inscribed upon the banner of 
the 3d Division 2d Corps 
Head Quarters 3d Div. 2d Corps, Va., 1861 
f3T Answer in two weeks. 
NO WRINGER CAN BE DURABLE WITHOUT COG-WHEELS 
THE UNIVERSAL WRINGER 
Was pronounced superior to *11 others at 
The World’s Fair, in London, 1802, 
Received the Bronr.e Medal (higliest premium) at the 
Great Fair of the 
AMERICAN INSTITUTE, IN NEW IQKK CITY, 1M 
Also the Silver Medal and Diploma in 1SS2, and the Di¬ 
ploma and certificate In 1863, at the 
NEW YORK. STATE FAIR, 
(being the highest premiums.) It also took the First 
Premiums at the State Fairs in 1863, in 
VERMONT, 
PENNSYLVANIA, 
INDIANA, 
IOWA, 
ILLINOIS, 
And at the principal County and Institute Fairs 
throughout the land. 
It wiU be in operation at all the PRINCIPAL FAIRS 
this year, and we invite the special attention of every 
HouBEKEEi’Eit. Pamphlets, Descriptive Circulars, 
Testimonials, &c., will be freely furnished to aU vis¬ 
itors. 
*., aim truiu me uupinjni-iii, ii* ii— we reel eeriaiti that 
It is worthy a plan- m every famllv. A child r in read¬ 
ily wring out a tu 'fid Of clothe- iu a few minutes. It 
is, iu reality, a OUlhts &ni>r.' a time iruo! a 
Strength .Sttivr? We think the machine more than J -ops 
f<r it> eif every year, In the saving of garment*! There 
are several kinds, nearly alike In ventral construction, 
but we cou.-idt-r l! Important that the Wringer he lltted 
with Cons, otherwise a mass of garments mav dog the 
rollers, unit Uie rollers upon the erauk-rliaft slip, and 
tear the clothes. Our own is one or the llrst made, and 
it is a« uood as hew, after nearly .four v< cos' constant use.' 
//run Henry Ward Backer, in 1864. 
After a constant n«- of the l.'.vi vkksat. Clothes 
Whinger for more than lour years Iu my family, 1 am 
authorized by the "powers that be,” to give It the. most 
unqualified praise. and to pronounce it an Indispensa¬ 
ble part of the machinery Of housekeeping. Our serv¬ 
ants have always been willing to use it and always 
have liked it. 
This ts the first Wringer that I have Ton in! that would 
stand the service required nf It. I had already "uaed 
up" one or mure of every other kind I couid get. 'I'ho 
rolls ot all would twist *nd wort loose alter a short 
time using, and, of course, become worthless.-*/. i‘. 
Huggins. Lowjoy's tJoUl, Hew York- 
A farmer may as well attempt to rake his heavy 
meadow, with a light. Old-fashioned hand-rake, as to 
require his wife to wring her clothes by hand.— l.tck- 
Port (N i’) Journal. 
It will wring any article, from a cambric handker¬ 
chief to a bed-quit, leaving thorn scarcely any too damn 
for Ironing. —RoeMster American. 
It is the grandest Improvement that could possibly 
be introduced Into tlie establishment.—H. o. SoranUm. 
(impress Hall, Rochester 
It saves labor And time, saves the clothes, and has 
inoru Uiitu anted ltd own cokL—IA-u Dr Krebs 
As a labor-saving and clothes-eaving machine, it is 
invaluable .—American Hotel, Toronto, O. W. 
It Is a perfect gem .—Dclnean House, Albany. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AN ANAGRAM. 
Vigo cm cth tncuqole eehkc, 
Rechw sulhbse runb nda ied 
Kile ineth sit naheges eakps 
Hot piirts’s rnpity. 
Bloomington, Minn., 1804. 
J3 1 ” Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, Ac., IN No. 764 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—The Star Span¬ 
gled Banner. 
Answer to Anagram: 
Never give up. , It Is wiser and better 
Always to hope thnn once to despair! 
Fling off the load of doubt’s galling fetter, 
And break the dark load of tyrannical care. 
Never give up. If adversity presses 
Providence wisely has mingled the cup; 
And the best counsel in all your distresses, 
Is the stout watchword of—Never give up. 
Answer to Anagrams of woodWhile Oak, Chest¬ 
nut, Maple, Mahogany, Walnut, Hickory, Rosewood, 
Black Ash. 
Anwer to Algebraical Problem:—3 hours 40 minutes 
and 40 seconds. 
PRICES AND SX55KS. 
The olaes usually sold for fiuiitly nee are Nos. 1, $14; 
1)*', $12; and 2, $10. Thoee have our PATENT COG- 
WHEEL REGULATOR, and are warranted. They are 
sufficiently large to pans any articles ever washed In 
the family. 
Nos, 2^', $ 9 , nod 5, $8, are not recommended or war¬ 
ranted, having so small rolls that cogs can not la- used ; 
al though they are of the same size used on other Wring¬ 
ers of the some price. We put them on the list so 
as to be able tt) answer-alt calls. We have hold at retail 
but one lu over a year, and our customers very seldom 
have calls for a “ no Gog ” Wringer. 
On receipt of the price, from places where no one Is 
selling, wo will send the U. C. W., free or expense. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCCI.ATTNG 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Weekly 
IS PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY 
1>. It. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
other >> ringers, are now engaged with “Tile Uni¬ 
versal” because It Pays the Rost, is durable, aud 
gives satisfaction to tlie purchaser. 
.Notwithstanding the calamities of war with which 
the country is afflicted, there has never been a time of 
such unbounded prosperity as the present. Kvery 
branch of industry U flourishing in a most astonishing 
degree. The products of the farm and workshop never 
brought so high prices; and consequently both the 
farmer arid mechanic have money plentler than ever 
before. 
Competing Wringers have been scattered here and 
there, and some families, arguing that the cheapest was 
the beBt, have bought them. The test of time, however, 
shows their Inferiority. The U. C. W„ with COG¬ 
WHEELS, will outlast a dozen with the smaller rolls, 
and experience allows that "The Best ia the Cheapest” 
in tlie end. The recent failure of a poor Wringer 
greatly helps tlie sale of a yooU one lu Its place. 
We arc happy to add that never was our progress 
more Satisfactory and rapid than now. Tlie sales last 
year were 68 , 818 , and at Uie beginning of this year 100 .- 
ooo was the estimate for 1864, tmt this number will he 
greatly exceeded, as the eale* for the past six mouths 
have reached 64,211, over 1,000 having been sold In a 
single day. Our munafaeluring facilities have been so 
Increased that We can now produce a dally supply of 
600 If needed. 
To each Canvasser certain territory Is assigned and 
exclusive sale given 
WITHOUT CHARGE FOR THE PATENT RIGHT. 
In many places the Wringer Is already being sold, 
but wherever It Is not, the Hold will be given to the 
first responsible applicant. 
For further Information, circulars, etc., address 
JITL.lt IN IVES A CO., 
347 llruathcaij , .V«r J’erfc. 
SELF-ADJUSTING AND ADJUSTABLE. 
The only Wringer with the 
Patent. Cog-Wheel Kegulator, 
For turning both rolls together, and which positively 
prevents the roUs from 
BREAKING OR TWISTING ON THE SHAFT. 
It Is not only a perfect Wringer, hut the cog-wheels 
give It a power which renders it a most ’ 
EXCELLENT WASHER, 
Pressing and separating, as it does, the dirt wilh the 
water from the clothes, leaving them dryer, whiter,anti 
smoother than when ** wrung” by hand. The water 
can he pressed from large and small articles, easier, 
quicker and more thoroughly than by toe ordinary, old- 
fashioned bac.k-brc&king, wrist-straining, ami clothes* 
destroying process. The eog-wheela prevent aU “ wear 
and tear” of clothes by the friction of the folks Or 
breaking or stitches by twlatiug. 
NO RUBBING TS NECESSARY, 
Except for starched ll»<u and very dirty articles, and 
toe clothes go on to toe line 
nte autj y rm y, 
and much rfhoother and whiter than when done toe old 
way; K-*ldes avoiding the usual [xtundltig, nibbing, 
..tj-eetoillg, straining, and mailing of toe clothes, to say 
k.» thing of toe parboiled hands, raw knuckles, lame 
hacks, and wasted time; for with toe Wringer the 
WASHING CAN IIK DONE IN HALF THE TIME 
otherwise required- 
T/i/hTW, f.V JlU^JYCJi: 
Single Copy, $2.50 a Year—Six Months for fcl.25. 
To (flubs and Agent* t—Three Copies for $7.00; six 
Copies for $13; Ten Copies [and one free to Club Agent,] 
for $ 20 , and any aditltlunal number at the same rate— 
only $2 per copy. Clubs for Six Months received at 
half the above rates. Persons who have formed 
Clubs for this volume Of tlielU/UAi, «U1 make uddltloua 
at the lowest club rate,- $1 per yearly copy. No sub¬ 
scriptions received lor Icsattian six months. 
Agents will please uotu that the lowest tract* of 
the Rural is $2 per year mat remit accordingly. Por- 
i.ona sending lens will oulj receive the paper for the 
length of time the money p/iys for at above rule. No 
Trove linn Agents are tiujioycd to canvas a *or tor 
Rural New-Yorker. 
Foreign Pontage. As w. are Obliged to prepay live 
United elates pontage on all copies sent abroad, $2.2U is 
the lowest rave for Cana.la,Am, and $8.uu to Europe.— 
but dining the preeeut rale ii exchange,Canada Ageute 
or thibocrlbers remitting for tile Rural in bills ©rtlu-Ir 
own specie-paying banks will not he charged postage. 
I he b.-Jt way to Kinlt ii by Drat t on New York, lies* 
cost Of exchange,!—'And all II nil'll made payable to the 
order of the Publiahcr, mg u K malted at bis risk. 
