B¥RAL 
t 
f 252 
PARTING HYMN. 
“ TJundoe.” 
Father of Mercies, Heavenly Friend, 
We seek Thy gracious throne; 
To Thee out faltering prayers ascend, 
Our fainting hearts are known! 
From blasts that chill, from buds that smite, 
From every plague that harms; 
In camp and march, in siege and fight. 
Protect our men at arms! 
Though from our darkened lives they take 
What makes our life roost dear, 
We yield them for their country’s Bake 
With no relenting tear 
Our blood their flowing veins will shed, 
Their wounds our breast* will share; 
Ob, save ua from the woes we dread, 
Or grant us strength to bear. 
Let each unhallowed cause that brings 
The stern destroyer cense, 
Thy flaming angel fold bis wiDgs, 
And seraph* whisper Peace! 
Thine are the sceptre and the swerd, 
Stretch forth Thy mighty hand,— • 
Reign Tbou our ldngless nation’s Lord, 
Rule Thou ourtbronelees land! 
Atlantic Monthly. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker.] 
A LEGEND OF THE GENESEE. 
BY JENNIE C-. 
While spending a few weeks, last October, with a 
friend residing in the Genesee Valley, we visited, 
among other places of interest in that beautiful 
region, a spot near the town of Mount Morris called 
the High Banks of the Genesee. I was totally unpre¬ 
pared for the wild and startling view that suddenly 
presented itself to my wondering gaze, as, dismount¬ 
ing and fastening our horses by the roadside, which 
in one place passed within a few feet of the precipice, 
my friend tocriv my hand and carefully led mo to a 
point that Beerued to overhang the rocks. Far down, 
hundreds of feet below ns, the river, gliding through 
its narrow channel, looking like a thread of silver 
as it reflected the bright October sunlight, with the 
gray barren rocks, scarred and seamed with the 
storms of ages, crowned with woodlands arrayed in 
the gorgeous hues of autumn, formed a scene beau¬ 
tiful and picturesque in the highest degree. 
As if to complete the picture, a small canoe 
emerged from a clump of willow and alder that 
fringed the margin of the river, like a shield between 
it and those stern, pitiless rooks, which ho completely 
shut it out from the bright, luxuriant meadows 
beyond,— like so many earthly Joys, which seem so 
near, and yet stern reality proves so inaccessible. 
As 1 watched the tiny boat slowly glide down the 
stream, I turned to ray friend, and pointing to the 
canoe, said, 
“Thla brings to my mind some of those wild, 
thrilling stories which your grandfather used to tell 
of the Indians, and his own adventures while a cap¬ 
tive among them. Can yon not think of one now?” 
I asked eagerly; “this is just the time and place to 
make it doubly interesting.” 
“ Yon have anticipated me,” answered C-, with 
r. smile. ”1 wua about to propose the same thing, 
for this very spot was the scene of an old legend, the 
first Indian story I remember ever hearing my grand- 
father relate. And, need I say how vividly this place 
and its associations brings my childhood back again, 
and my early borne. The old block-house has long 
since vanished, and given place to one of more 
stately appearance, but which can never inclose 
within its walls truer happiness than its humble 
predecessor. How well I remember tlm place in the 
chimney corner which, by common consent, was 
called the ‘hoys’ corner;’ our seat, the huge log, 
that was rolled in at night to form the foundation of 
the morning’s fire; the blazing, roaring flames in the 
wide fireplace, lighting every portion of the room 
with a cheerful glow, and diffusing a home radiance, 
which causes those long winter evenings to seem like 
so many golden threads in life’s tissue, gilding with 
their memory many a dark cloud that since the days 
of my happy boyhood lius passed over me. But to 
the story. 
“Man}', many long years before the white man’s 
foot had penetrated these hills and valleys, there 
lived in a wigwam, near the spot where now through 
the trees you see that handsome farm-house, an aged 
squaw, who had been taken captive, while a young 
maiden, from ft tribe far to the South. Her graceful 
form and beautiful face attracted one of the most 
noted braves of the tribe, and pleading with her 
captors for her life, ho carried Her to his lodge. By 
every art which his rude nature could command, he 
tried to win her love, but in vain. The heart of 
O ket-tAH was with her home and kindred, and there 
seemed to he no feeling left there save scorn and 
hatred for her captors. Although in time, passively 
yielding to her fate, she became the wife of the Eagle- 
Eye; yet, when at the end of one short year he was 
brought to his wigwam a mangled corpse, having 
been slain by a wild beast he was pursuing, O-rkt-tah 
neither felt nor feigned to feel any sorrow. * It is 
well,’ she said: ‘the Great Spirit has avenged his 
daughter's wrongs;’ and folding her infant to her 
bosom, her companions saw the first gleam of any 
thing like love that had passed over her face since 
Bhe came among them. 
“Years passed, and the captive’s daughter, the 
gentle Lu-lil-la, rvas beloved by all around her. 
And O-ket-tah, as age came stealing over her, would 
have had a joyless and bitter lot were it not for this 
bright link between her and her captors, whom she 
treated with a contemptuous hatred, which each 
succeeding year seemed to strengthen. The memory 
of her blighted life, her murdered parents and brave 
brothers, seemed ever like some dark spirit brooding 
in her heart, tinging each moment of her weary life 
with increased bitterness. 
“ With this hatred rankling in lmr breast, it is no 
wonder that O-rrt-tah had vowed to the Great Spirit 
that her daughter should never dwell in the wigwam 
of any of those whoso liandB were red with the blood 
of her kindred. And one day. as Lu-lil-la was on 
the river’s bank, endeavoring with her rude net of 
twigs to catch some fish Tor their noon-day meal, she 
lost her foot-hold and would have drowned had it 
not been for Wan-dah, the son of the chief of the 
tribe, who, carrying her to her mother, was scarcely 
thanked by O-ret-tah, who indignantly asked, ' Why 
is Wan-dab ever in Lu-lil-la ! s path? Why should 
he, of all the braves alone, see her danger in the 
river?’ With a glance that made evon O-ket-taii 
tremble, tho son of the chief drew himself proudly 
tip, and said: ‘Wan-dah will tell you why,—his 
heart is open. Because Lu-lil-la is the light of 
Wan-dah’s eyes, the sunshine of his heart, and when 
away from her, his heart is covered with a shadow, 
and his path desolate.’ 
“Anger flashed from O-kkt-tah’s eyes, hut before 
she could give utterance to the words of scorn that 
Beemed choking her, simply saying to Lu-lil-la, 
(who was gazing with wonder at her mother's rage,) 
‘remember the point of the rocks,’ he swiftly strode 
away. 
“O-ret-tah turned to her daughter, and in using 
her simple remedies to counteract the cold jdunge 
into the river, strove to smother the anguish By¬ 
words of Wan-dah had caused, hut in vain. ‘Was 
it not the chief Ne co-mo himself who took the life 
of her brave brothers?' she would mutter to herself 
at intervals; ‘ and shall Lu-lil-la dwell in his lodge, 
and be to him a daughter? Never, never. The vow 
of O-KET-TAn is sacred.’ With this thought, the 
poor, bleeding savage heart grew calm, and as the 
hour of sunset approached, it was O-ret-tah that 
first spoke of the point of the rocks. The Indian 
maiden sprang to her feet The sun was near his 
resting place in the sky; she must go. ‘I, too will 
go,’ said O-ret-tah; '1 would speak with the son of 
Ne-co-mo.’ Wondering at this determination, she 
suffered her mother to lead the way. Swiftly passing 
along, they soon arrived at the spot, where the tall 
form of Wan-dah was seen, eagerly expecting 
Lu-lil-la. Advancing towards them, his eye fell 
upon O-ret-tah; a change came over his counte¬ 
nance, and not until Lu-lil-la had given him her 
simple greeting— ‘I am come, Wan-dah!’ —did he 
speak. 
“With a glad smile he advanced, and would have 
taken her hand, when, with rage, O-ret-tah dashed 
it aside. ‘Touch not tho hand of the son of No-co- 
mo, whose lodge etill boasts the scalps of your 
kindred,’ she said, sternly. ‘Tell me, Lu-lil-la, 
vow hero before the spirit of the tempest that is 
rushing upon us, that the love of Wan-dah shall 
be trampled under your feet.’ 
“ With trembling lips, but in tones as firm as the 
roek she stood upon, the captive’s daughter answered, 
‘You ask more than it is in the power of Lu-lil-la 
to do; her heart is already War-dab’s, and the 
daughter of Eagle Eye can not be false.’ 
“With both hands clasped around her daughter’s 
waist, O-RKT-Tah’s voice mingled with the muttering 
thunder that was filling the air, shrieking in deri. 
sive tones, ‘If Wan-dau’s path is desolate where 
Lu-lil-la is not, let him follow her!’ With frenzied 
steps she had approached the extreme edge of the 
precipice, and ere Wan-dah could spring to the 
rescue, with almost superhuman strength, and with a 
cry of exultation, 0-RBT-TAU gave a fearful leap, and 
both captive and daughter disappeared. The wild, 
despairing cry of Lu-lil-la was answered by Wan- 
dau’s shout of horror, and gazing over the point, he 
could see their bodies in swift descent, bounding from 
rock to rock. It, was too much; reason fled; tho spirit 
of madness took possession of Wan'daii’r heart, and 
the agonizing cry of Lu-lil-la was all that thence¬ 
forth escaped his lips. And ever after, when the 
storm king reigned, and the peals of thunder filled 
the air, the form of Wan-dah would be seen at the 
Point of Hocks, and his cry of Ld-lij. la rise above 
the tempest. But this could not always last. Twelve 
moons had waxed and waned, the sun was once more 
approaching his golden bed, ngain tho spirit of the 
storm was filling the air with its muiterings, when, 
as had been bis custom since that fatal night, Wan- 
dah, weak and emaciated, sought the place so full of 
horror. The savage natures around him, awed by 
the deed of O-ret-tah, and its effect upon the once 
brave Wan-daii, when his wild cry of anguish was 
hoard, would repair to the spot, and with supersti¬ 
tious awe how themselves before the spirit of the 
tempest. The storm grew fearful, the lightnings 
lurid glare illumined tho sky, and the loud tones of 
tho thunder were blending with that wild cry of 
Lu-lil-la, when tho old chieftain, stricken with 
grief at the misfortune that Lad fallen upon his son, 
and the braves of the tribe, approached the spot 
which that wild shriek of anguish Lad made so fear¬ 
ful to all. As they came near, the form of Wan-dah 
was seen in the usual place, hut the cry, so long the 
only one which had escaped his lips, was changed. 
It was the death song which now came ringing to 
their ears, its cadences rising with mournful energy 
above the howling of the storm. The song ended,— 
again that wild cry 'Lu-lil-la, I come,’ — a fearful 
leap, and Wan-dah had indeed followed in the path 
of her whose absence had made his path so desolate 
and dark, and east that shadow over his heart which 
death alone could dispel. Ever after that night, as 
long as the red man lingered among these bills and 
valleys, when the storm arose, and the wailing wind, 
or muttering thunder was heard, there came to their 
ears above the mlitterings of the tempest that wild 
cry, Lu-lil-la.” 
THE SHADOWS WE CAST. 
A child was playing with some miniature build¬ 
ing materials, ami as the mimic castle rose before his 
eyes in graceful proportion, a new pleasure swelled 
iu his heart; he felt himself to he the creator of a 
“ thing of beauty,” and was conscioRS of a new horn 
power. Arch, wall, buttress, gateway, drawbridge, 
lofty tower, and battlement, were all the work of his 
lnnds. He was in wonder at his own skill in thus 
creating from an unseciningly lot of toy materials, a 
structure of such rare design. 
Silently he stood and gazed upon his castle, with 
something of the pride of an architect who sees, 
after months or years of skillfully applied labor, 
some grand conception in his art embodied in im¬ 
perishable stone. It did not seem to him a toy, 
reaching only a few inches in height, and covering 
but a square foot of ground, but a real castle, lifting 
itself hundreds of feet upward toward tbe blue sky, 
ami spreading wide upon the earth its ample founda¬ 
tions. 
As the idea grew more and more perfect, the 
child’s strange pleasure increased. Now he stood 
with folded arms, wrapped in the over-mastering 
illusion—now walked slowly around, viewing the 
structure on all sides, and noting every minute par¬ 
ticular—and now sat down, and bent over it with the 
fondness of a mother bending over her child. Again 
he arose, and purposing to obtain another and more 
distant view of his work; but bis foot struck against 
one of the buttresses, and instantly, with a crash, 
wall, tower, and battlement fell in hopeless ruin! 
In the room with the boy, sat his father reading. 
The crash disturbed him, and he uttered u sharp, 
angry rebuke, glancing for a moment toward tbe 
startled child, and then turning his eyes to the attrac¬ 
tive page before him, unconscious of the shadow be 
had cast upon the heait of the child. Tears came 
iuto those fair blue orbs, dancing in light a moment 
before. From the frowning face of his father, to 
which his glance was suddenly turned, the child 
looked hack to the shapeless ruins of his castle. Is 
it any wonder that ho bowed his face in silence upon 
them, and wetted them with tears? 
For more than five minutes he sat as still as if 
sleepi g; then, in a mournful kind of way, yctalmost 
noiselessly he commenced restoring the box, from 
whence be had taken the many shaped pieces (bat, 
play-joined together, hsd grown into a. noble build¬ 
ing. After the box was filled he replaced the cover, 
and laid it carefully upon a shelf in the closet. 
Poor child! that shadow was a deep one, and long 
in passing away. His mother found him, half an 
hour afterwards, asleep on the floor, with checks 
flushed to an unusual brightness. Blie knew nothing 
of that troubled paseugc in hia young life; and the 
father had forgotten, in the attraction of the book he 
was reading, the momentary annoyance expressed in 
words and tones with a power in them to shadow the 
heart of his child. 
A young wife had busied herself for many days in 
preparing a pleasant surprise for her husband. The 
work was finished at last, and now she awaited his 
return with a heart full of warm emotions. A dres¬ 
sing gown and a pair of elegantly embroidered slip¬ 
pers, wrought by her own skillful fingers, were tbe 
gifts by which she meant to delight him. What a 
troop of pleasant fancies was iu her heart! Flow, 
almost impatiently, did Bhe wait for the ooming twi¬ 
light, which was to be dawn, not approaching dark¬ 
ness to her. At last she heard the step of her husband 
on the passage, and her pulse leaped with fluttering 
delight. Like a bird upon tbe wing, Bhe flew down 
to meet him, impatient for the kiss that awaited her. 
To men in the world of business, few days pass 
without their disappointments and perplexities. It 
is man’s business to bear this in a manly spirit. 
They form but a portion of life’s discipline, and 
should make them stronger, braver, and more endur¬ 
ing. Unwisely, and we may say, unjustly, too many 
men fail to leave their work shops or counting 
houses at the day’s decline. They wrap them in 
bundles end carry them home to shadow their house¬ 
holds. It was so with the young husband on this 
particular occasion. The stream of business had 
taken an eddying whirl, and thrown his vessel back¬ 
ward instead of onward, for a brief space; and though 
it was still in the current and sliding safely onward 
again, the jar and disappointment hod fretted his 
mind severely. There was no heart warmth in the 
kisses he gave his wife, not because his love for her 
had failed in any degree, but because he had let care 
overshadow Jove. He drew his arms uround ber, but 
she wus conscious of a diminished pressure in that 
embracing arm, 
“Are yon uot well?” she inquired. 
With what tender concern was the question asked! 
“ Very well,” he replied. 
Ho might, be in body hut not in mind, that was 
plain—for his voice was far from being cheerful. 
Bhe played and sang his favorite pieces, hoping to 
restore, by the charms of music, brightness to his 
spirit. But she was conscious of partial success. 
There was still a gravity in his manner never per¬ 
ceived before. At tea time she smiled upon him so 
sweetly across the table, and talked to him on such 
attractive themes, that the iiriglit expression returned 
to his countenance, and he looked as happy as she 
could desire. 
From the tea table they returned to their pleasant 
parlor. And now the time had come for offering her 
gift and receiving the coveted reward of glad sur¬ 
prise, followed by sweet kisses and loving words. 
Was she selfish? Did she think more of her reward 
than of the pleasure xj^would bestow? But this is 
questioning too cloaefy^n* 
“I will be back in a moment,” she said, and, pass¬ 
ing from the room, she went lightly up stairs. Both 
tone and manner betrayed the secret, or rather the 
possession of a secret with which her husband was to 
bo surprised. Scarcely had her loving face faded 
from before lu's eyes, when the thought returned with 
a single bound, to an unpleasant event of the day; 
and the waters of liis spiriiwere again troubled. He 
bad actually arisen and crossed the floor twice, 
moved by a restless concern, when bis wife came 
back with the dressing gown and slippers. She was 
trying to force her countenance into a quiet expres¬ 
sion, to hold back the smiles that were continually 
striving to break in truant circles around her lips, 
when a single glance at her husband’s face told her 
that, the spirit driven away by the exercise of her 
love had returned aguiu to bis bosom. He looked at 
her soberly as she came forward. 
“ What are these?” he asked, almost coldly, repress¬ 
ing surprise, and affecting an ignorance that he did 
not feel in regard to the beautiful present she held in 
her bands. 
“They are for you, dear,” was the reply; “I made 
them.” 
“ For me!” he exclaimed. “ Nonsense! What do 
I want with such jimcrackery? This is woman’s 
wear. Do you think I would disfigure my feet with 
embroidered slippers, or dress up in that gown? Put 
them away, dear. Your husband is too much of a 
man to robe himself in gay colors, like a clown or au 
actor.” And he wavfed his hand with an air of con¬ 
tempt. , 
There was a cold, sneering manner about him, 
partly affected and partly real, the result of his 
uncomfortable state of mind. Yet he loved his wife, 
and would not purposely have wounded her for the 
world. 
This unexpected result—this cruel reception of her 
presents, over which she had wrought patiently, in 
golden hope, for many days—this dashing to the 
earth of her brimful cup of joy, just as it touched her 
lips, was more than the fond young wife could hear. 
To hide the tears that came rushing to her eyes, she 
turned away from her husband; and to conceal the 
sobs she had no power to repress, she went almost 
hurriedly from the room, and going hack to the 
chamber from whence she had brought the present, 
she laid it away out of sight in a closet. Then cov¬ 
ering her face with her hands, sat down and strove 
with herself to be calm. But the shadow was too 
deep—the heart ached too heavily. 
Iu a little while her husband followed her, and 
discovering, to bis surprise, that she was weeping, 
said, in a slightly reproving voice, “Why, bless me, 
not in tears! What a silly puss you are! Why didn’t 
you tell me you thought of making me a dressing-gown 
and a pair of slippers, and I would have vetoed the 
matter at once? Yon couldn't persuade me to wear 
such flaunting things. Come hack to tbe parlor,” he 
said, taking hold of her arm, and lifting her from the 
chair, “and sing a play for me. ‘The Cream Waltz,’ 
or ‘The Tremolo,’or 'Dearest May,’ or 'The Stilly 
Night,’ are worth more to me than forty dressing- 
gowns, or a cargo of embroidered slippers. 1 ' 
Almost by force he led her back to the parlor, and 
placed her on the music stool. He selected a favorite 
piece and laid before her. But tears were in her 
eyes, and she could not see a note. Over the keys 
her fingers passed in skillful touches: hut when she 
tried to take up the song, utterance failed, and sobs 
broke forth instead of words. 
“ How foolish I” said the husband, in a vexed tone. 
“I am surprised at yon.” And he turned from the 
piano and walked across the room. 
A little while the sad wife remained where she was 
thus left alone, and in partial anger. Then rising, 
she went slowly from tbe room—ber hnsband not 
reeking to restrain her—and goiDgback to her cham¬ 
ber, sat down in darkness. 
The shadow which had been cast upon her spirit 
was very deep, aRd though the hidden snn came ont 
again right early, it was a long time before his beams 
had power to scatter the cloud that floated in love’s 
horizon. 
The shadows we cast! Father, husband, wife, 
j sister, brother, sod, neighbor—are we not casting 
shadows daily on some hearts that are pining for the 
sunlight of our faces? We have given you two of 
life’s true pictures, not a mirror, but a kaleidoscope. 
In all their infinitely varied relations, men and 
women, selfish or thoughtlessly—from design, weak¬ 
ness or ignorance—are casting their shadows upon 
hearts that are pining for sunlight. A word, a look, 
a tone, an act, will cast a shadow, and sadden a 
spirit for hours and days. Speak kindly, be forget- 
ters of self and regarders of others, and you will cast 
but few shadows along the path of life. The true 
gentleman is always tender to the feelings of others, 
always watchful lest he would unintentionally injure, 
always jhlnking, when with others, of their pleasure 
instead of his own. lie casts but few shadows. Be 
gentlemen, ladies, or in a word, what includes all 
excellencies, be Christians, for it is the Christian 
who casts fewest shadows of all. 
WAR WIT. 
The Boston Commercial Bulletin has the following 
in its “Sharp-shooters’ column”: 
“The regiments of the Northern army, it is well 
known, contain practical mechanics of every branch 
of trade, as well as artists, merchants, clerks, and 
men from every walk of business; so that when a 
commander wishes a bridge built, a locomotive re¬ 
paired, or a pair of boots mended, he finds a ready 
response to his order of ‘Carpenters, step to the 
front!' 'Machinists, two paces forward, march 1’ 
• Shoemakers, to the front and center, march!’ 
In any army composed of such material, the branch 
of trade from which such companies have been drawn 
will be indicated to the shrewd observer by their style 
of expression toward the enemy. For instance: 
Printers—Knock him into ‘ pi!' Smash his 'form!’ 
‘Lead’ him well! At him with a ' dash!’ 
Carpenters—At him ‘full chisel!' Shave him 
down. 
Tailors—Sew him up! Give him a good ‘basting!’ 
Sailors—Smash his ‘top lights!’ ‘Run foul’ of 
him! Sink him! 
Shoemakers—Give him a welting! Peg away at 
him! Close him up! 
Fishermen — Split him and 'salt him!’ ‘Hook 
him in the gills!’ 
Blacksmiths— Let him have it red hot! Hammer 
it into him! 
Painters—A little more lead! Lay it on to him! 
We’re just the me for him! 
Barbers — Our ‘dander’ is up! Now for a good 
brush! Give him a good ‘lathering!' 
Cutlers—Polish him down! Give him akeenedge! 
Bakers—He (k) needs working over! Let’s do him 
brown, boys! 
Glaziers — Smash the awful ‘set!’ Let’s do our 
1 puttiest /’ 
Lawyers — Be brief with him! Get his head ‘in 
Chancery!’ Stick him with — the costs! 
Machinists—Set his running gear in motion! 
We’ll start the driving wheel, and he shan’t break the 
connection again! 
Bill Posters — Stick him to the wall! 
Musical Instrument Makes — His notes are all 
spoiled! String him up! 
Jewelers—Chase hirn*well! Show him your met¬ 
tle, boys! 
Stage Drivers—Whip him into the traces! Touch 
up his leaders with the string! 
For Moore s Rural New-Yorker. 
BIBLICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 167 letters. 
My 18, 37, 10. 8, 6, 10,1, 4, 14, 107, 4G, 138, 9, 13, 24, 22, 28, 
42, 67, 30, 31 is Mount Zion. 
My 92, 52, 54, 120, SI, 122, 119, 75, 60, 61, 73, 35, 45, 13,152 is 
Divine power exemplified ata very earlyperiodin hibtory, 
as revealed to man. 
My 17, 63, 7(5, 82, 113, 129,108, 166, 19, 101, 105, 109, 116 was 
a song of Israel. 
My 61,160, 33, 50,157, 58, 91,164, 123, 154, 132, 70 was a Bon 
of Meshcllum. 
My 18, 161, 159, 66, 167. 20, 112 was a son of Azel. 
My 11, 97, '18, 54, 163, 39, 14S, 156, 140 was a noted queen of 
Egypt. 
My 95, 89, 94, 106, 26, 93. 143, 86 where, it is said, the Lord 
dwelletlr. 
My 126, 166, 144, 78, 114, 127, 133, 78, 142, 88, 153, 134, 15, 32, 
63, 38, 7,106, 137, 84, 6, 60, 139, 111, 130, 74 is one of the 
ahomi nations that the Lord hates. 
My 79, 80, 65, 99, 180, 135. 121 was an ancient city of note. 
My 36, 101, 124 98. 117, 101, 85, 141. 12, 61, 128, 149, 90, 158, 
100, 68, 13. 5, 10, 40, 21, 118, 110, 115, 103, 11,128 is what 
David thought of himself in view of the prosperity of 
tho wicked before he went into the sanctuary. 
My 63, 26, 69, 9. 44, 27, 55, 12, 07, 83, 47, 87, 77, 29, 150, 69 is 
in sanctification. 
My 4!, 67, 34, 2, 28 was to whom the Philistines offered 
sacrifice. 
My 14, 72, 65, 147, 54,143, 110 was cured by a miracle. 
My 162,167, 3, 160, 71, 146,146, 111, 80 fell from Heaven and 
destroyed man and beast. 
My 62, 50,126, 102,104, 73, 28. They are blessed who walk 
not in their counsel. 
My IS, 96, 49, 99, 138, 44, 95, 2,151, 131—what St. John did. 
Troupshurgh, N. Y., 1863. S. G. 
53?“ Answer in two weeks. 
ANAGRAM. 
Nyam nme fo naym nidem, 
Anray disrb of myna dinks, 
Nyma Behisf ni bet esa, 
Mayn emn owh tond egera. 
53T Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, Sk„ IN No. 601. 
Answer to Historical Enigma:—Sincerity and truth form 
the basis of every virtue. 
Answer Acrostical Enigma:—May-Flower. 
Answer to Mathematical Question:—Father’s age 72 years; 
son's age 12 years. 
Answer to Geometrical Problem:—520 square rods, nearly. 
Answer to Enigmatical Charade:—A-bun-dance. 
3.bmti0cments. 
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597-Ocoj IL A M. HARDER, Cohlcskill, .Schoharie Co., N Y 
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THE ILLUSTRATED AMERICAN 
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A GUIDE TO HEALTH. 
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j lOOKS FOR LVCTEIYYTISTS. 
The following works on Agriculture, Horticulture, Ac., may 
be obtained at the Office of the Rural New-Yorker. We can 
also furnish other books on Rural Affaire, issued by American 
publishers, at the. usual retail prices,—and shall add new works 
ns published. t $~ Rural Agents entitled to premiums, and 
who arc offered a choice of hooks, can select from this list 
American Farmer s Ency¬ 
clopedia. $4 00 
Allen's Am. Farm Book_1 00 
Allen's Diseases of Domes* 
Ue Animals....... ..... 75 
Allen's Kuml Architecture t 25 
Alien on tho Grape.1 DO 
Ain Architect, or Plans for 
Country Dwellings.6 00 
American Florist's Guide,. 75 
Barry's Fruit Garden.1 25 
Blake's Farmer at Horne, 1 25 
liniiAslnganil's Rural Rcou- 
oniv.1 V> 
Bright on Grape Culture... 50 
Browne'6 fftrcl Fancier..... 09 
Browne's Ponltrv Yard — 1 00 
Do. Field Book ol Manures.1 at 
Bridge-man's fiilrl AsS't. ...1 W 
fin Florist's Guide. 60 
Do. Krtehcn Gardener’s In¬ 
structor ft) 
Do. Fruit Cull Manual .. 00 
Brock's Book of Flowers...-! 00 
Bulst's Flower Garden - I 26 
Do. Fund tv Kitchen third. 75 
Chelnk-al Field Lectures. 1 (X) 
Chinese Hugur Cane and 
Sugar Making... 26 
Chorllon'a Grape Grower's 
Guido. 00 
Cobbett's Aun. Gardener.. 60 
Cottage and Farm Bee¬ 
keeper . 60 
Cole's Am Fruit Book M 
Do. Am. Veterinarian. 60 
Dadd's Modern Horse Doc. 1 W 
l)o. Am. Cattle Doctor.ltk) 
Do. Anatomy and Pbysi- 
olojrofthe Dorm.2 in 
Do. colored plates.4 (M 
liana's Muck Manual.1 tM 
Do. iVige F.ssur on Manures 25 
D:irlioEton's Weeds and U*o- 
ful Pin lit- .KM 
Davy’s Devon Herd Book I 00 
Domestic and Ornamental 
Poultry.1 00 
Do, colored Kates.2 uo 
Downing’s Fruits and Fruit 
Trees.1 75 
Downing's Landscape Gar¬ 
dening...3.50 
Do. Kojnl Essays. 300 
Eastwood's Cmubcrry Cul¬ 
ture . *0 
Elliott's West Fruit Book 1 25 
Every Lady her own Flower 
Gardener.. 60 
Family Doctor by Prof. H. 
S. Taylor.- 1 26 
Farm Drainage, (II. F. 
French)..106 
Fessenden's Farmer and 
Gardener___ 126 
Do. Am Kitchen Garden.. 60 
Fluid's Peur Culture. 1 (W 
Fish Culture.1 00 
Hint ou Grasses. .1 25 
Guenon ou Milch Cows_ 60 
Herbert to Horee-keejiere .125 
Hooper's Dog At Gun. paper, 25 
Do. do. cloth. 50 
Hongb'sFarni Record .800 
Uyde'aChiuese Sugar Cane 25 
Johnston's Agricultural 
Chemistry .1 25 
Do. KlemehUof Ag. Chem¬ 
istry and Geology.1 06 
Do Catechism ot Chemistry 
uirlfclioola.. 25 
l.angsirotli on the Hive and 
tlonev !<•••• 1 25 
J.euchur's Hot Houses ...125 
Liebig's Familiar Letters to 
Farmer*. 60 
LIBeley'S Morgun Horses 1 00 
MinersBec-ko.epei s Manual] 69 
Miles on the Horse's Foot.. 60 
Millmmon Cotv.... 25 
Modern Cookery bv Miss 
ActonsuiJ Mrs. S. J. Hale,125 
Mrs Abel's Skillful Ilousn- 
v Te end Ladies' Guido. G) 
Saxton'u Rural Hand Books, 
hound ill 4 .series .each 1 2' 
Mnnri a I.and Drainer_ 6 
Nash's I 'logreesi ve Farmer. (4 
Neill's Gartl. Companion...16 
Norton s Elements of Agri¬ 
culture... 5) 
Qlcoti'sriorgho ami impheel i! 
louden on the Straw berry. id 
Fodder's Laud Measurer... w 
Perms’* New Culture of the 
Vint*. i'J 
Phelns Bee-kfleper'a Chart 23 
Quincy's Mysteries of Bee¬ 
keeping.. . . 1 il) 
Vnincv on SoiliDg Cattle,. 
Rabbit Fancier. .V 
Randall's Sheep Husband¬ 
ry . 125 
Kit. harthon on the Horse, 25 
Do. Feet* of the Farm. 3 
Do Doweodc Fowls. 3 
Do. on the ling . 3 
Do. on the Honey Bee. 25 
Dot on the Dog.. 25 
Keejmdli/* Vine-dresser- 
Manual.... so 
Shepherd’s Own Book.-00 
Stray Leave* from the Boot 
of Suture.—.109 
Stephens' Book of the Faun 
2 vols.100 
Skillful Housewife. 25 
Skinner’s Elements of Ag¬ 
riculture . 25 
Smith's IgtndsKape Gar- 
finning...1 26 
Timer's Principles of Agri¬ 
culture. 269 
Thomas'Farm Implement' 1 tM 
Thompson’s Food of At,:- _ 
male.. - 76 
The Koee Culturist... to 
Tritiham's Chemistry Had* . 
Easy. 26 
Turner's Cotton Planters 
Manual...160 
Wet i dor's Hedges and E ver- 
greenc’ . .. ....166 
Wan ire's Elements of Ag- 
rimiHure.. 75 
Weeks on Bees.. 
Wilson on Flax.. 25 
YntiAtt k Martin on Cattle 125 
Youstt on the Horae.1 
l lo. on Sheep. < J 
Do. on the ffog. 75 
Any of the above named works will be forwarded by 
mail, post-paid, on receipt of the price specified. 
Address IL I). T. MOGUL, P.ocfiester, N. Y. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST C1RCULATKP 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AND FAMILY WEEKLY, 
la published every satukoat 
BY D. D, T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, F. Y. 
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Agents as follows:—Three Copies one year, for 95; Six, and one 
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gTeatei number at same rate —only $1.26 per copy,— 3D 
extra free copy for every Ten Subscnbeis over Twenty- Club 
pa pc i a directed to Individuals and sent to ajs many different 
Post-Offices as desired As we pre-pay American postage oa 
pups is sent to the British Provinces, our Canadian agents and 
frienda must add 12>i cents per copy to tbe club rates of the 
Rural. The lowest price of copies sent to Europe; &c., is 
$2.50—including postage. 
I jT- Postage Stamps are taken at par ou subscription, and 
greatly preferred to Western or other uncurrent money'. 
vtrUtinff — Thirty-Five Cents a Line, each inser- 
A price and a half for txtra display or 52. 1 * cents per line 
ce. Special Notices, (following reading matter, leaned.) 
Cents a Line. lATTm: Rural New- York hr has a far 
circulation than any similar journal iu the world, and •’ 
ibtedly the best advertising medium of its class in America 
I.v c resequence of its Large I v nercased circulation, we 
liged to put the last form of the Rural to press carte' 1 
ormerly, and advertisements should reach us on J in ay 
ore insertion the same week. 
