For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
^ THE DYING GIRL’S REQUEST.* 
!■ 
nr ANNIE At. BEACH. 
This poem possesses a sad significance now that the 
hand which wrote it, several year.? since, is still in 
death. Miss Beach has contributed many excellent 
poems for the pages of the Rural On page 136, cur¬ 
rent volume, is a touching, almost prophetic, one 
entitled “SighingB” from her pen. The loss occa¬ 
sioned by her death is ndt confined to her family and 
personal friends, who have our sinceresi sympathy.— 
Em. Rural. 
O lay me to steep, wnere the willows weep, 
By the side or the silver stream— 
Where the birds sing gay, through the long glad day, 
And at eve the dew-drops gleam. 
Place a pale, white rose o’er my lone repose, 
And a cluster of lilies fair, 
And there let them twine with the myrtle vine, 
And wave in the summer air 
And come at night when the moon shines bright 
In the calm star-spangled sky, 
To my quiet grave, where the willows wave 
And the breeze goes sighing by. 
Bat think of me not in that lonely spot. 
But away on that distant shore, 
In the land of light, where there comes no night, 
And sorrow and death are o'er. 
I am weary now, and upon my brow 
A shadowy darkness falls, 
And the path seems bright to the land of light 
And I wait till the angel calls. 
When the moon shone bright in the sky that night, 
She had gone to the spirit land. 
And they laid her to sleep where the willows weep, 
By the silvery streamlet’s strand. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
TWO SIDES-DOUBLE-FACED. 
BY NELLIE ASHTON. 
“I do declare if there isn’t that Mrs. Bailey 
coming here,” said Mrs. Cass, as we sat in her 
chamber one pleasant summer afternoon. ”1 
wish she had stayed away. Nobody wants to 
see her. She is such an everlasting beggar that 
I hate to see her coming toward the house. I'll 
warrant she is round on a begging tour now for 
the soldiery: or negroes, or something of the 
kind. A precious little benefit they ever re¬ 
ceive of all the money she gets, I believe. I 
wouldn’t be afraid to bet auything that she puts 
it all into her own pocket, and that's the way 
she gets so many fine clothes. Her husband i ? no 
better off than iniue, and I can’t afford to dress 
the way she does. Why, Nellie, if you will 
believe me, she has had no less than three new 
silk dresses within the last year, and now she 
has got another, a beautiful leather-colored one 1 
that cost four dollars a yard. It’s perfectly pre- ' 
posterous. She had better stay at home and 
mind her own business as her neighliors do, and : 
she would be thought much more of. But I 1 
suppose I must go down. Will you go with ( 
me, Nellie, or remain here? I will get rid of { 
her as soon as possible.” 1 
“I will wait for you in the library,” I said, as f 
we went down together. “There is a book 1 
there I wish to look at,” and passing in I care- ( 
lessly left the door ajar and walked across the. 4 
room. 
“ Why, good afternoon, my dear Mrs. Bailey. ( 
I am so very glad to see you. Really, you are f 
getting to be quite a stranger here. Excuse s 
my not coming down sooner. I was so very a 
busily engaged. Do lay aside your things and c 
spend the afternoon with me.” I did not un- 1 
derstand Mrs. Bailey’s reply, for I was too * 
completely thunderstruck to hear anything just 1 
at that moment. ,£ I must he asleep,” I said, v 
pinching myself to ascertain the truth, but the 1 
sound of that smooth, hypocritical voice assured * 
me that it was no dream. “ And so you are c 
around on one of your errands of mercy ? How 
cau you find time to do so much for the soldiers ? 0 
I was telling my husband the other day that ( 
you certainly were the most self-sacrificing lady v 
of my acquaintance. He quite agreed with me, ^ 
and thought if there were more like you there v 
would be more happiness and less misery ih the 
world than there Is. But people are so selfish K 
now-a-days. I think we who stay at home 11 
ought to do all we can for the poor fellows who c 
are fighting for our liberty as well as their own. < - 
I am willing to do my share in this good work. . 11 
You may put my name down for five dollars, ® 
and I am sorry that it is so small a trifle. When f 
you call again, I will endeavor to do better, but 11 
my purse Is rather lower than usual to-day. If e 
there is any other way that I cau assist you, & 
dou’t hesitate to call on me. You shall have my s1 
prayers to aid you In y our benevolent purposes.” 11 
“ Your prayers, indeed! I should hate to be ai 
dependent on your prayers for my hopes of c 
Heaven,'’ I .said, aloud, giving vi-nt to the indig- 
nation which I felt. ‘’The mean, miserable ^ 
hypocrite ! How very busily engaged you ^ 
were, and what a very laudable occupation. 
‘Errands of mercy,’alias‘begging tour.-.’ Con- lc 
temp tibia I” and I flung out the words in a ei 
manner more characteristic than amiable. ^ 
How long I should have sat there in my ^ 
wrath I know' not, but a glimpse of Mrs. Baj- ai 
ley’s sweet, gentle face, and the appearance of w 
the smooth-tongued dissembler herself, aroused V( 
me. “nave you looked at that book all you a! 
wish, Nellie dear?” she asked. “ No—yes—1 ® 
believe so,” I answered, a little confounded. “Is ai 
your caller gone ? and how did you get along?” < ’ t 
_w 
• Died.—I n Cambria, N. Y., on the morning of Sept, tl 
3d, ntWr a short Ulneas, Annik M< BXACii, ilauphterot 
Hakvjcy and fiOl'HKONiA Beach. 26 years.. Miss 
BEACH w.t- a youii* Irniy endowed with ran; qualities 
of mind and heart, peculiar sweetness of disposition, 
and, withal, was a devoted Christian. She was greatly *i 
beloved liyalargp id rule til i: lends and relatives, she 
•tied In the triumphs of Christian faith, exhorting her 
friends to meet her in Heaven. 
The readers of the Ritual will remember her as hav- C 
log been, for a series of years, a contributor to Its poet¬ 
ical column.—E. w. • C£ 
11 asked, with, I fancy, a little pardonable de¬ 
ception. 
“Yes,” she is gone, and I am glad enough. 
She was out begging just as T told you she 
would be, and I had to give her a trifle to get 
rid of her. Mr. Cass told me the other day to 
never give her any more, for she was a meau, 
mischief-making thing, but it wouldn't be policy, 
you know, for everybody would know it if she 
did, and I should be called stingy and every¬ 
thing else.” 
I arose to go. Sbe begged of me to stay, 
which I decidedly refused to do and went away, 
my eyes flashing, and my heart filled with 
scorn and contempt for the miserable woman I 
had left. 
Reader, what do you tfiink of such people ? 
For my part, I despise them. They are unwor¬ 
thy the houest hatred of an honest heart. I 
can’t put up with your smooth-tongued, plausi¬ 
ble people that will agree with everything you 
say. I always shudder and look over my shoul¬ 
der at them, expecting to discover their cloven 
feet ready to tread on mo. If a person comes to 
me and says “you are a fool.” I will thank him 
and consider him my friend; but when they 
reach out their great paws and smooth me down 
as you would coax a cat—bah!—I can't endure 
them. 1 like principle, and people that act from 
principle. I don’t thank a person to ask me to 
yisit them uuless they mean it. If I thought 
they did, I'd go out of spite. If I dislike a per¬ 
son I'll defy them to like me. I show my likes 
and dislikes in a manner decidedly comprehensi¬ 
ble to every one. I always tell people what I 
think, and I will, thank Heaven, just so long as 
I have my reason. 
Sunnyeide, N. Y., 1864. 
DIVORCES IN POLAND. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
“GIVE US SOMETHING THAT WILL STAY,”” 
At the cariy breakfast the Princess appeared 
in a cashmere morning dress, wearing a pearl 
necklace fastened with a rich diamond clasp, 
ear-ring- and bracelets to match. She after¬ 
wards ] oposed shewing us her dresses; so all 
her fin< y and that of her niece, was displayed. 
She a!- > produced her jewelry, of which she 
possessed enough to adorn the whole country. 
A quiet individual who appeared at dinner was, 
I believe, her present husband; she had been 
married several times, as is common in Poland, 
although the Poles are Catholics, and divorce is 
not allowed in that church. I know not how 
they contrive it, but nothing is more common 
than to meet a gentleman having two or three 
wives all alive, or a lady the same number of 
husbands; and what is most strange, the parties 
thus married and unmarried meet on the friend¬ 
liest terms. This taste for, aud facility of, di¬ 
vorcing, leads to unheard of complications of 
relationship. I saw various examples of these 
intricate connections during my sojourn in 
Toland. 
One day a cousin of Count S-arrived. He 
and his wife were hardly seated when another 
couple were announced. They seemed all to be 
on the most friendly terms. In the evening one 
of the gentlemen played at cards with the two 
ladies and a third who was staying at Ostrow- 
6ki. When he arrived. Countess S-said to 
me, “ Is it not curious to see my cousin Alexan¬ 
der playing cards with his three wives ? ” “ His 
three wives!” I exclaimed, “surely you jest.” 
“Not at all,” she answered; “nothing is more 
common here. He now regrets his divorcement 
from the first; he liked her best; but she has 
also married again. They are all very friendly 
aud agreeable to one another.” Countess S- 
continued:—“You will hardly meet a person in 
the country who has not been married more 
than once. The Russians reproach us on our 
facility for divorcement, as they many for life; 
we, for as long as we please. It is better than 
living together on ill-terms.” This seemed veiy 
startling to me, but it is a fact of which I was 
convinced by personal observation. 
One bitter cold day, when the very aspect 
out doors was enough to make one shudder, 
Countess S-, Fraulein Muller and myself, 
were making artificial flowers; Anna, who 
braved I know not how many degrees of cold, 
was gone on a sledging excursion with her 
father. As we were seated by the window, we 
saw a sledge, drawn by six horses, coming up 
the avenue. "We were wondering who the 
courageous visitors could be, when Ibe beautiful 
Countess Z-, a near neighbor, was an¬ 
nounced. On entering, she said to Countess 
S-, “I have not a moment to stay, and have 
something very important to say; my husband 
intends proposing for your daughter; he is an 
excellent man, so I beg of you not to let any 
delloacy of sentiment on my account by an ob¬ 
stacle to their union. I have already obtained 
my divorce, aud am on the eve of contracting 
another marriage. I leave for Yarsovio this 
evening. Adieu, my dear friend.” .So saying, 
she disappeared as quickly as she had entered. 
I own that if a thunderbolt had fallen at. my 
feet I could not have been more surprised. 
Fraulein Muller and I, who hud stood up to 
leave the room, had not time to gain the door 
ere the communication was made. Countess 
S-begged of us to remain, and as soon as her 
friend left, observed, without seeming the least 
amazed at what she had heard, that Count A — 
was too old for Anna. Undoubtedly, he has a 
very large fortune, but, added she, “ we have 
almost given our word to another person.” 
Sbe evidently was nowise shocked at the strange 
announcement. Accordingly, Count A-did 
come the next day, made a formal demand aud 
was refused—Anna’s opinion coinciding with 
that of her parents. 
BY BELL CLINTON. 
“ O, now beautiful!” cried Willie. 
When be saw his father’s gift— 
A say balloon, which lightly 
Would above the tree tops drift 
One day toe wind blew stronger, 
Or the hand that held the string 
Grew careless—lor away it sailed 
Like bird upon the wing 
The distant forest, river, field— 
It floated proudly o or, 
And little Willie never saw 
His precious treasnre mor< 
Wilh a bean n'.t sadly grieving. 
He could only, weeping, sav. 
“ Get no more balloons, dear father, 
Give me something that will stay.” 
O. who hn- not had treasures 
Just us fleeting, gay, or vain? 
Who has not seen them vanish 
Never TO return again * 
When youth’s “rainbow hues” have faded, 
When health, or wealth, hare flown— 
And the withered buds of memory 
O’er buried hopes are strewn— 
Whet! all onr brightest dreamings 
Unrealized have fled— 
When one by one we've sadly laid 
Onr kindred with the dead— 
With the shattered wrecks around us— 
Our treasures gone for aye— 
Are not onr and hearts praying 
“ Give us something that will stay ?” 
Thai our heart? will gladly listen 
To the pleading tones of love, 
To the low and gentle whisper 
That bids ns look above— 
For beyond earth's dim horizon. 
Up above the changing skies, 
O’er the “ dread and mystic river.” 
Must we cast our longing eves; 
Reaching out for the “ Immortal,” 
Striving lor the heavenly goal, 
Where victory through Jesus 
Crown? with life the deathless soul. 
Then, throughout those blissful ages, 
Brightening as they pass away, 
Friends and treasures found in Heaven 
Will forever with us stay 
Chenango Co., N. Y-, 1861. 
• Suggested by the story of '• Willie and his Balloon" 
In the “ Child's 1 VorUi.’' 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
BULLET OR BALLOT. 
TRUE CHEERFULNESS 
Along with humility we should cultivate 
cheerfulness. Humility has no connection with 
pensive melancholy, or with timorous dejection. MEMORIAL 
While the truly humble guard against the dis- o f 
traction of all violent passions and inordinate GEN. JAMES S. WADSWORTH. 
cares, they cherish a cheerful disposition of _ 
mind. There can not, indeed, be genuine by hon. lewis f. allen. 
cheerfulness without the approbation of your _ 
own heart. While, however, we pay a sacred Mr. President, Officers and Gentlemen of the 
regard to conscience, it must be enlightened and Ye>o York Mate Agricultural Society. 
di ice ted by reason and revelation. And happy When good and great men die, it is the privi- 
are the individuals who can say, “ our rejoicing j 0 g fi 0 f generous hearts, in unavailing regrets 
'• th ^ thfl ,es,5mr,n - v f onr conscience, that, in for their lo86j t0 pay R tilthl? tribute to their 
simplicity and godly sincerity, we have had our private worth and public services. From time 
conversation in the world.” An approving jrameraovial( states, communities and Societies 
nund will contribute greatly to cheerfulness, ^itb which they have been connected, or to 
am that equanimity which results from it, which they had rendered eminent benefits, have 
from trust in God, and from the hope of a' borne prompt and honorable testimony to their 
blessed immortality, us equally remote from virtues aml actioU8 uot only a , tUl3 exprC8sioil 
sour dissatisfaction, desponding melancholy and of g Tlvt itudo and respect to'their memories, but 
frivolous hilanty. It smooths our path and to inspire posterity as well os their contempora- 
sweetens our cup, rendering duty easy and r ies with an admiration of good deeds and benif- 
311 ■ ‘t'_^__ iceut labors. All worthy Societies and Asso- 
parental Government. hav ® t “ r member 
_ rolls names of distinguished men and beneiactors 
Perhaps the most reasonable scheme is some- an< * Society, although humble iu its pre- 
thing like this .--First, a stage of minute aud tensions ’ unambitious of worldly renown, and 
intensely centralized despotism, until the subect motivating only the arts of peaceful life, may 
have got over the sixth or seventh year of his c * a ' m ' 110f ' boastfully, but with heartfelt satis- 
iife. Then a monarchy, still absolute, but with ^ fte *- 10n ’ munes most honorable in their efforts for 
a diminution of the centralization, and an ex- human welfare, and deeply lamented in their 
tension of the sphere of self-government; epi- t°° early departure irom the field of their labors, 
grams to be tolerated in moderation. After At a meeting of the Executive Committee of 
fifteen or sixteen, the monarchy becomes limited, y° ur Society in May lastit was "Resolved, That 
until finally the society becomes republican aud a memorial of the late James S. Wadsworth, 
tbe autocrat assumes the dignified character of cf his eounectious with this Society’, with the 
J0JI 
Mirage.— The mirage of the desert paints 
the things of earth in the heavens. There is a 
more glorious mirage, which, to the eye of the 
Christian, paints the things of heaven upon the 
canvas of earth. 
Not alone are these words celebrated because 
w-eighty in the late history of peace negotiations. 
The present times and circumstances give them 
a translation which approaches very near the 
sacred. They are becoming household words, 
and embody the heart's surest, most serious 
principles. Bullet or Ballot! how significant! 
The one freighted with free speech, free senti¬ 
ment and freedom— the other a fearful, bloody 
resort to quell oppression and wrong — both 
together an emblem of the victory of noble 
principle. Much would we prefer to place 
first and only, the proud, national watchword, 
Ballot. We would teach it to our children and 
weave it always on our banners. The lexicon 
of America should hold no room in all its con¬ 
fines for the significant word. Bullet. Rather 
should the space be filled with the monosylla¬ 
bles love, peace and hope. Yet, in times like 
these, it is a virtue lor fair lips to seriously utter 
it; for weak hearts to nerve strong at its sound; 
for sacrificial fires to be built upon its altar, and 
for the old fan to float it to the breeze. 
“Five hundred thousand more,” and shall wc 
give them ? Precious blood of fathers and 
of brothers, shall we fill anew the crimson 
chalice which so many times ha? been drained? 
Yes, this and twice, thrice more if must be. 
Woman's heart can be strong—her hands large. 
Little children can proudly say, “Good bye — 
God bless you, papa,” and manly forms can and 
Kill cluster around the old flag. Would ye 
know the secret ? The imperiled honor of loved 
ones fires the zeal of woman—the inspiration of 
patriot fathers makes heroes of youths, and the 
love of country is dearer to man than his life¬ 
blood. 
Not like the blood-thirsty Nero do our wise 
men sacrifice the bravest of the land. Theirs is 
a just and uoble motive, even to the preserva¬ 
tion of a free republic. The garments of the 
north land are not crimsoned with blood of 
blother slaughtered in this terrible conflict. 
Men feel and kuow that “might makes right” 
sometimes, and over the fallen ruins of igno- 
rauce and sin, God will establish a people after 
Himself. With these facts written so legibly 
before us, let all force be directed to the sup¬ 
pression of Wrong and the extension of Right. 
Not alone are the sword and musket means to 
that worthy end. Our soldiers earnestly call 
for “letters” from the brave ones at home. 
Our hospitals open their arms for all possible 
aid for our distressed. The mental demands of 
our whole army draw largely upon our literary 
resources, and the weal of our common country 
cries loudly for pure, true, loyal home influence. 
Let every baud, heart aud head be zealously 
active in this hour of chastening, and soon truth 
aud w isdom shall be the Ballot of a free, united 
people. Mary' Price. 
Adriau, Mich., 1864 
The pen in the hand that knows how to use 
it, is one of the most j>oweriiil weapons known. 
As the tongue of the absent, liow charming. 
When self-respect gives it a new vigor, how 
pleasing. When virtue guides it, how respected. 
When wit sharpens it, how fatal. When scur¬ 
rility wields it, how contemptible. ’Tis the 
weapon of the soul. 
A man of sense may love like u mad man, 
but never like a fool. —La Jlochefoucald. 
guide, philosopher aud friend. Of course, the 
pai'ental sovereignty is lodged in the bauds of 
two rulers, who may be compared to the Ty¬ 
coon and the Mikado—the one attending chiefly 
to temporal, and the ether to religious affairs.— 
London Journal. 
“Russian Scandal.”— A favorite play with 
Dr. Wbately was penciling a little tale on pa¬ 
per, and then making his right-hand ueighbor 
read and repeat it, in a whisper to the next man, 
and so on until everybody round the table had 
done the same. But the last man was always 
required to write what he had heard; and the 
matter was compared with the original retained 
by his grace. In many instances the matter 
was hardly recognizable, and Dr. Whately 
would draw an obvious moral; but the cream 
of the fun lay in his efforts to discover where 
the alterations took place. His analytical 
powers of detection proved, as usual accurate, 
aud the interpolators were very playfully pil¬ 
loried. 
Leigh Hunt on Death.— It is a delicious 
moment certainly, that of being well nestled in 
bed, aud feeling that you shall drop gently to 
sleep. The good is to come—not. past; the 
limbs have been just tired enough to render the 
remaining iu one posture delightful; the labor 
of the day is done. A gentle failure of the per¬ 
ceptions comes creeping over one; tho spirit of 
consciousness disengages itself more and more 
with slow and hushing degrees: like a mother 
detaching her hand from that of her sleeping 
child; the mind seems to have a balmy lid clos¬ 
ing over it, like the eye; ’tis closing—’tis clos¬ 
ing—’tis closed. The mysterious spirit has 
gone to take its airy rounds. 
n f,« tbi Iffltmtj. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 40 letters. 
My 4, 31,14, 33, 30, 27,7 i* a county in New York. 
My 19, 2, 37, 34, 28 is a lady’s name. 
My 12, 22, 20, 39, 27 is to blaspheme. 
My 1,10, 34,10, i\ 29 is a river in England 
My 13, 37,11, 25, 83 Is far from right 
My 15,28.29 is a word of contempt. 
My 18, 28,11, 8, 82,88 Is agreeable to most young ladies. 
My 17, 28 is an. exclamation of pain. 
My 28, 87,17,18, 21,4, 88,18, M is considered natural in 
old maids. 
My 8, 20, 9, 36 are indispensable to a foot peddlar. 
My 33, 27, It, 25,10 is the name of a Union General. 
My 7, 21, 80, 8, 35, 5 is to help 
My 20,17, 28, 25, 35 are very annoying animals to farm¬ 
ers. 
My whole is one of “Father Abraham’s” last cam¬ 
paign jokes adapted to his case. 
Saint Johns, Mich., 1S61. Lehoy. 
tlT Answer in two weeks. 
- >-*-•- 
For Moore’s Rural N ew-Yorker. 
ANAGRAMS OF RIVERS. 
To camp o, 
Dun hos, 
Neat Simon, 
Neck been, 
St. Anthony, Minn , 1864. 
dr Answer in two weeks. 
Sob culma, 
Danlber Cum, 
Six cort, 
War set cion. 
Ellen and Carrie. 
Kor Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM. 
A steamer which goes at the rate of 21 miles per 
hour in still water, can come up a river a certain dis¬ 
tance in 5 hours, and go down in 4 hours. At what 
rate does the water flow? W. O. Tats. 
Sandusky, N. Y., 1861. 
diP Answer in two weeks. 
-- ^44 - 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 768. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Frantz Sigel. 
Answer to Anagram: 
A mother’s love! how sweet the name! 
What is a mother’s love? 
The noblest, purest, tendereet flame 
That kindles from above— 
Within a heart of earthly mould 
As much of heaven ns earth can hold, 
Nor through eternity grows cold; 
This is a mother’s love. 
Answer to Problem:—14400. 
Agriculture of Ills county, and of the State, aud 
- his devotion to his country, be prepared and read 
Ire Core tho Society at its annual 7 exhibition in 
September next in Rochester.” 
In pursuance of that resolution I appear be¬ 
fore you to speak of that lamented man, late a 
President of this Society. This rich and pop¬ 
ulous Valley of the Genesee wa- his home, and 
in and around it was the principal theatre of his 
action. Ilis name was almost a household word 
throughout Western New York, and he was 
loved and honored by all who knew him. This 
is the place to speak of him, and of his connec¬ 
tion with the Agricultural interests of hi.-coun¬ 
ty* of his vicinity, and of the State,—of his la- 
bore in their behalf, and his influence on their 
welfare. Most gladly, yet respectfully, would 
I have preferred that this task should be dis¬ 
charged by one who more intimately knew, and 
better appreciated the life of this excellent man, 
than myself; but tbe duty placed upon me by 
the Committee seemed imperative, and I respond 
to their command with great diffidence iu my 
ability to do justice to the occasion. You will 
pardon what may, perhaps, seem a digression 
from the immediate subject of this memorial, 
but the scope of the “ resolution ” demands a 
more discursive notice of the Agricultural events 
and progress of this vicinity Ilian what have 
passed under our own immediate observation. 
Seventy-four years ago, the spot on which we 
stand—this opulent and thriving city, ringing 
with the sounds of human industry—this broad 
ami magnificent Talley, reaching from the Lake 
almost within our sight to the distant hills on 
the southern border of our State, was a wild and 
unbroken wilderness. The victorious army of 
Gen. Sullivan, under the direction of our recent¬ 
ly formed national government, bad just driven 
the predatory Indian tribes from their forays on 
the border settlements of the Ghemung and Ti¬ 
oga to thc-ir distant forest homes, and they glad¬ 
ly consented to bury their enmities and live in 
peaceful intercourse with our people. The 
broad and fertile lands of Western New York 
had been purchased by various individuals and 
companies, both in the Eastern Stoics and Eu¬ 
rope, and wero about to be laid open for settle¬ 
ment. Iu the year 1790 two young men, en¬ 
trusted with agencies for the disposition of 
large tracts ol these lands, left their homes in 
Connecticut, and after a journey of several 
weeks through formidable difficulties, a portion 
of the W’av clearing their forest road with axes, 
they gained the banks of the Genesee at Big 
Tree, thirty miles South of what is now Roches¬ 
ter. Tbe name of these tsvo young men was 
Wadsworth. William, six years the elder, 
was a man of bold, determined temperament, 
vigorous, indomitable will, skilled in the stern 
and rugged arts of life, possessing the power to 
reduce tho forest to culture, ami imbued withal, 
with a military spirit, emiuentlv fitting him as 
a pioneer in tho great work which Invited him 
to its achievement. James, the younger, was 
of a milder quality. He had been liberally ed¬ 
ucated. His miud, peuetrating and expansive, 
had been highly cultivated, and his habits train¬ 
ed to business. System, order and perseverance, 
were the rules of his action. Thu?, with the 
extraordinary opportunities laid out before the 
brothers, success was sure to follow their under¬ 
takings. 
In the discharge of their agencies they divid¬ 
ed and sold extensive tracts of land, and invi¬ 
ted a multitude of settlers into the Genesee Val¬ 
ley', and throughout its immediate borders- In¬ 
dustrious aud thriving communities grew up, 
and teeming fields with bounteous harvests 
opened and ripened all around them Possess¬ 
ing tho love of domain, inherent iu their Eng- 
lesh ancestry, the Wads wort ha, as they pro¬ 
gressed, Invested their earnings iu choice tracts 
of the rich valley, until their acres were count¬ 
ed by thousands, and in process of years “ the 
Wadsworth farms” became fatuous, not only- 
in the country round about, but in the old set¬ 
tlements of Eastern New York and New Eng¬ 
land. W illiam was the out-door man and far¬ 
mer. The forests fell and the fields were clear¬ 
ed under his sturdy perseverance; while James 
was the olllce-man and financier, and it was 
mainly to his tine rural taste and wise forecast. 
