CAVALRY SONG. 
BY CHARLES GODFREY LELA.VD. 
Wkafo.nkii well to war we ride, 
With *»bre* ringing by our ride— 
The warning knell of death to all 
Who hold the holiest cause in thrall; 
The eacred Right 
Which grows to Might, 
The day which dawns in blood-red light 
Weapnned well to war we ride, 
To conquer, tide what may betide, 
For never yet beoeath the sun 
Was battle by the devil won; 
For what to thee 
Defeat may be, 
Times makes a glorious victory. 
Weaponed well to war we ride— 
Who braves the battle wins the bride; 
Who dies the death for truth shall be 
Alive in love eternally; 
Though dead he lies, 
Soft, starry eyes 
Smile hope to him from purple skies. 
Weaponed well to war we ride— 
Hurrah I for the surging thunder-tide, 
When the cannon’s roar makes all seem large, 
.And the war-horse screams in the crashing charge. 
And the rider strong 
Whom he bc-ars along 
Is a death-dart shot at the yielding throng. 
Weaponed well to war we ride; 
The ball ia open, the hall is wide— 
The sabre, aa it quits the sheath. 
And beams with the lurid light of death, 
And the deadly glance 
Of the glittering lance, 
Are the taper lights of the battle-dance. 
Weaponed well to war we ride— 
Find your foe men on either side, 
But wo to those who miss the time. 
Where one false step Is a deadly crime; 
Who loses breath 
In the dance of death, 
Wins nor wears nor want* the wreath. 
Weaponed well to war we ride— 
Our swords are keen, our cause is tried; 
When the keen edge cuts and the blood runs free, 
May we die in the hour of victory! 
We feel no dread; 
The battle-bed, 
Where'er it be, has heaven o’erhead. 
Knickerbocker Magazine. 
®h« 
SCHOOLMASTER'S RECOLLECTIONS. 
It was many years ago that I commenced keep¬ 
ing school. I had graduated at an academy of some 
note, and was well posted up in those branched of 
education which were introduced into our common 
schools; and when the committee came to examine 
me, I could see that they were very forcibly im¬ 
pressed by the ease with which I answered my 
questions. In short I knew About everything that 
was set down in the books which I had studied, for 
I happened to possess one of those wonderfully re¬ 
tentive memories that fastens surely upon whatever 
comes once within its grasp. I imagined, and so 
did the committee imagine, that I was eminently 
qualified for the poRt to which I aspired. But, as 
I look back now upon tho events of those years, i 
can see wherein I greatly’erred. 1 can see where 
I made great mistakes, and where I moat wofully 
lacked in qualification; and I write this little chap¬ 
ter of Recollections for the benefit of those who may 
be just entering upon the duties of a Teacher. 
When I commenced my first school (and the same 
ideas I had governed mo for a long time after¬ 
wards,) T looked upon the children before me as so 
many little individuals whom I had got to till with 
learning. They were, to ray mind, so many human 
vessels which had got to be filled up with the wa¬ 
ters of education: and my ouly ideas of the capacity 
were of size and age. In my class of ten scholars, 
which was to recite from the mental arithmetic, and 
the members of which were nearly of the same age, 
I considered that each individual must hold just the 
same amount of mathematical food, and digest it 
equally with the rest. And tints I commenced my 
school. 1 knew what was written in the books, and 
1 was to teach it to the children before me. I had 
learned it all, and I believed they could. At least 
if they did not, I meant that it should be no fault 
of mine. 
In my first class in, arithmetic were two boys 
whom I have selected to figure in this sketch. I 
take them because their subsequent careers afford a 
striking example of the fact 1 wish to present. I 
shall not give you their real names, for they are 
both living, and are worthy, honorable men. I shall 
tell you that they were Luke Weston and James 
Sbute. I.uke was rather heavily built, with a large, 
full head; a florid, chubby face; a dark bluish-gray 
eye; dark brown hair, and inclined to be slow and 
dreamy when called upon to work with his mind, lie 
could work fast enough out of doors, when the play 
hours came, and when the free air aud vigorous exer¬ 
cise sent the copious blood bounding through his 
veins; but in the school-room, over his books, he 
was quite another character. 
James Sbute, on the other hand, was light of frame, 
with a small, compact head; hair of a flaxen hue; 
light blue eyes, and possessed an organization highly 
nervous and sensitive. He cured but little for the 
rough sports out of doors, seeming rather to prefer 
his books, and perfect himself in his lessons. I did 
not make any account of these physical peculiarities 
at the time, for I thought nothing of them and cared 
nothing for them, but I remember them well enough 
now. 
Luke aud James were in the same classes in all the 
branches they studied together, aud the few months 
of difference in their ages were in favor of the 
former, he being a little the older. In a very short 
time I discovered that Luke Weston did not learn bis 
lessons well. He blundered in his arithmetic, and 
stumbled lamely over his spelling lessons. As 1 look 
back now 1 can remember that he used to betray a 
deep interest in some portions of philosophy, and 
that, when the subject interested him, he read with 
feeling not excelled by any scholar in the school. 
But I cared Jittle for this at the time. I looked upon 
the blackboard as the grand field for scholastic dis¬ 
play; the spelling book came next, and next came 
Lindlev Murray's old call bound grammar, with its 
intricate maze of Orthography, (etymology, Syntax, 
and Prosody. These were my educational deities, 
before which every intellect must bow, and from the 
inspiration of which every intellect must be filled. 
James Shute became my favorite scholar. He 
worked over his slate with an assiduity which was 
untiring, and I felt a pride in exhibiting bis powers 
to my visitors. Upon the blackboard he could per¬ 
form wonders for one so young. In reduction, in 
fractions, simple and compound, in involution, in 
factors, and in the roots he was perfectly at home. 
So, too, in spelling was he prompt and sure. And in 
grammar he was excellent. He sometimes made mis¬ 
takes in analyzing sentences where the meaning of 
the author was not plain; but be remembered bis 
rules and knew how to apply them. 
With Luke Weston 1 was sorely perplexed. He 
did not get his lessons well at all. When he came to 
compound fractions he could do nothing with them. 
Left to himself, with bin own time and method, he 
could worry the sums out, but be was behindhand in 
the recitations, and always blundered upon the black¬ 
board. In grammar he was also remiss, though not 
so bad as in arithmetic. When he came to parsing 
he got along much better than 1 could have antici¬ 
pated, since he had been so clumsy iu committing 
the rules aud exercises of Lindley Murray to memory. 
In analyzing language, and comprehending the 
powers of words, and in understanding the author, 
he betrayed a keenness of perception for which 1 did 
not give him credit. I remember once the class were 
parsing a passage in Milton. A relative pronoun 
came to Luke, and he parsed it. I corrected him in 
matter of its relation. 1 told him it related to a dif¬ 
ferent person from the one he Had named. He read 
the sentence over again and objected to my idea, 
maintaining that he was right; and he was proceed¬ 
ing to show me whoreiu I was In error, when I inter¬ 
rupted him and made him stand out on the floor an 
hour for his disobedience of ray Instruction. That 
night, when alone in my room, 1 read the passage 
over, and at length became convinced that Luke had 
been right. But T would not own it to him. No, no 
—that would have lowered me in my own esteem. 
Yet I resolved to be more careful In the future how I 
corrected him in his parsing lessons. However, he 
was, in my estimation, full of short-comings. With 
his genera) behavior I had no reason to find fault, for 
he was a noble, generous-hearted fellow, and was be¬ 
loved by his friends. 
“ Luke,” said 1, as I stopped him one night after 
school, “why is it that you do uot get your les¬ 
sons?" 
He said he didn’t know. 
“ Don’t tell me," I cried, “that you don’t know. 
You don’t study, that's the reason. See how James 
Shute gets his lesson. Yon are older than he is." 
Luke said he could not get such long lessons—he 
could not remember them. He had tried hard enough 
to do the puzzling sums, and to spell the long words, 
but he could not do it. 
1 told him it was all nonsense. He could do it if 
he had a mind to. He did not try. He was more 
fond of play than of study. In short I talked very 
severely to him, and assured him that if he did not 
have his lessons perfectly on the following day, I 
should punish him. He went away with his head 
bowed, and, I thought, in a sulky mood, 
The following day came, and with it came the first 
class in arithmetic. James Shute could do every 
sum. Luke Weston had uot done half of them. 
When the class came up to spell, James spelled all 
the words, and gave all the definitions promptly. 
But Luke could not remember them. 
So I told Luke Weston I must punish him; and 
1 stood him out upon the floor, and mode a great 
fool’s cap and put it. upon Ids bead, and there he 
stood until the school was done. He did not cry, 
nor did he look particularly ashamed; but be eom- 
prefmed Lin lipw imd loutivd vtryugly. At nit events, 
so I thought at the time. When I relieved him of 
his fool’s cap, at the close of the school, I told him 
I hoped he would get hie lessons better the next 
time. He made me no reply, but left the room with 
a quick, stern step, and went home without stopping 
to play with his mates. On the following day Luke 
did not come to school, and on the day after that I 
learned that he had gone to learn the shoemaker’s 
trade. I made some little inquiry, and fuund that 
he had declared he wauld go to school to me no 
more, if he had to run away; and, as his parents 
were poor, they bad allowed him to go to work in a 
neighbor’s shop. 
In time 1 finished ray school, and James Hhute 
bore off the palm of scholarship. Upon him I be¬ 
stowed the highest encomiums, and held him up to 
the admiration of visitors. 
During the vacation 1 visited a neighboring State, 
and found employment there. Then I went South, 
and dually became engaged as ft teacher of mathe¬ 
matics in a school in New Orleans. The years 
slipped by, aud still 1 remained in my new home. 
One day I received a paper from my native State, 
and I saw mention made of one Luke Weston, as 
being the leader of a strong faction in the Legisla¬ 
ture. Of course it could not be my Luke—it could 
not be the one upon whom I had put the fool’s cap. 
No—it must be another of the same name. 
Time passed on, and by and by I read in the papers 
that Luke Weston had been elected President of the 
Senate of my native State, and was now the powerful 
leader of a powerful party. Of course this was the 
same Luke of whom I had before read; but it could 
not be the same Luke who had worn my fool’s cap. 
Of course not. 
And still time passed on. aud finally I read that 
Luke Weston had been elected to the Senate of the 
United States, and that he was greatly honored by 
all who knew him. 
In another year I visited the home of my youth; 
and one of my first inquiries was of I.uke Weston. 
He was a United States Senator. So it was my Luke 
after all. 
Aud where was James Shute? He was a book¬ 
keeper in a hank, and was accounted a very correct 
and faithful clerk. He had been there twelve years, 
and would probably remain there, as he liked the 
place, and had no particular qualification or ambi¬ 
tion above it. 
And now, with the silver touch of many years 
upon my brow, 1 sit alone in my study and reflect 
upon the past. I see many, many children who 
have beeu under my charge, now grown to be men 
and women; and I see many of those I had thought 
excessively stupid, occupying places of honor aud 
trust; while many I had thought wonderful in learn¬ 
ing, are plodding along in the ordinary pursuits of 
life, the lessous of the old school-books all forgotten, 
and the one idea of food and clothing occupying 
their whule attention. 
Aud I think, if I could teach school again, how 
different would be my course; for from my review 
of the years that have gone, I have learned some 
things of which I was ignorant wheu I first assumed 
the rod and staff of a pedagogue. 
Different children have different capacities. Many 
a quick-witted, sharp-minded boy has borne away 
the prize of scholarship who has not studied half as 
hard as has the poor fellow who goes weeping to his 
home because he gained no medal. Ail minds do 
not grow alike. Some intellects are precocious, and 
germinate and go to seed very early. Such ones are 
I apt to he the delight of the pedagogues. And yet, 
as I call to mind those of like character that have 
come under my care, 1 find that they have not been 
very prolific bearers of mental fruit. 
Other intellects are slower in growth. They gen¬ 
erally belong to bodies that are growing fast and 
strong. Such intellects do not grasp easily at math¬ 
ematical niceties in early youth. They comprehend 
slowly at first, but surely; and arc firm and uncom¬ 
promising, and are rather apt to be skeptical upon 
subjects which oppose their intuitions. Such are 
sure to meet with little charity at the hands of the 
pedagogue; and yet as I call to mind those of this 
latter character which have come within my care, I 
find them to have grown stronger as they grew older, 
and have been prolific hearers of noble fruit. From 
this source we derive our original minds, and, also, 
most of our intellectual giants. 
Teachers, seek to understand the capacities of your 
scholars before yon begin to force the mental food 
upon them. If you seek to fill them with learning 
as you would fill barrels with water, you may make 
some great mistakes. Ten chances to one you may 
put the fowl's cap on the broad brow of a Daniel 
Webster—that you give the position of a dunce to a 
Christopher Columbus—while you may set another 
Bill Shakspeare over among the girls because he 
looked that way when he ought to have been stndyiug. 
THE FIRST FUNERAL. 
A correspondent of the New York Commercial, 
writing from Camp Kalorama, says: 
“We had our first military funeral on Saturday 
afternoon. 
The day before, one of our drummers, Joseph Win¬ 
ters, waB drowned while bathing. He was a pleas¬ 
ant, good boy, and his sudden death made a deep 
impression in the encampment. His body was 
brought from the creek, and laid beneath a new tent 
pitched to receive it, under the trees of the north 
side of the parade ground. The men stood in silent 
rowB in front of the tent till sundown, while a guard 
detailed for the purpose paced slowly back and forth. 
A letter was found in Joseph's pocket from “cousin 
Louise," and as bis comrades knew r that he had no 
parents, or brothers, or sisters living, his captain 
wrote to her. 
A little barefooted fellow, about eight years old, 
stood on the land when Joseph's body was recovered 
by the divers, and when the surgeon, promptly on 
the spot, was vainly endeavoring to start the water- 
dogged wheels of life, the little barefooted fellow 
walked in silence up the hill side with the men who 
carried the body, following close behind; and there 
he stood before the curtains in serious stillness. At 
last he spoke, with respectful manner and clear manly 
enunciation, to one of the field officers: 
“ Will you he so kind as to tell me, sir, whether he 
was a good boy?" 
“ I believe that he was, my little fellow, but I did 
not know him very well.” 
“Has he a father or mother, sir?" 
“Why do you ask, my boy?” 
“Because, 1 hope that he did not have a mother, 
sir, or father; they would feel so badly to hear that 
he was drowned.’’ The officer cleared his throat, and 
the little fellow went on. “ And if, sir, he has no 
mother or father, and if he was a good boy, I am 
glad.” 
“ Why glad, my boy?” 
“Recause, sir, I think it was the best time for him 
tm Tie taken away.” 
'‘Why the best tin!-' >' 
‘ Because, sir, It m the Lord does is always best."' 
The funeral sermon was preached; unsurpassed in 
truth, comprehension, simplicity and beauty, and if 
you could have heard the utterance of the boy, its 
purity of wording, spoken in such gentle intonation, 
and with such unmarred accent, you would have felt 
that Christ’s model presented to his disciples, of a 
child brought to him by believing parents, was the 
model for his ministers to this present day. 
At four o’clock ou Saturday afternoon the Pennsyl¬ 
vania band of twenty-four pieces, in front of the 
dead boy’s tent, gently sounded forth one of the sad 
melodies which make military funerals peculiarly 
impressive; the company formed in marching order: 
the escort stood with rnuskets reversed; the remain¬ 
ing part of the regiment formed in the center of the 
parade ground in face to face columns, and the pro¬ 
cession moved to the slow beat, of the muffled drums. 
The boy was placed in a plain coffin, which was 
wrapped in the stars and stripes, and upon it was 
laid a large wreath of green leaves and wild flowers, 
and so we carried him to an old burying ground not, 
far distant, where the tombstones were all moss 
covered and inclined, where the grass was tall and 
untrodden, aud where the cone-shaped cedars stood 
in irregular and friendly groups. 
When his body was lowered, the chaplain read 
selections from the Bible and offered prayer, tbe 
escort fired the military salute, the soldiers formed 
again in line and we left the sleeper till the resurrec¬ 
tion. 
[Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker,] 
THE DYING SOLDIER. 
“ The dying words of one of the Ohio volunteers, 
who fell at Vienna, were, 1 It grows very dark, 
mother,—very dark.’*' It was a mournful scene, 
and many a mother’s heart must have felt all its sad¬ 
ness as the touchiug words have beeu read. He was 
young, for the flight of busy years had not yet oblit¬ 
erated the memory Of ft mother's loving care; noble 
and brave, or he would not have sprung so quickly 
and gladly to his country’s aid when her starry flag 
trailed in the dust, torn by traitors' hands: and some¬ 
where a true mother waited with an aching heart for 
tidings of her hoy, or when the darkness of death 
gathered around him, his thoughts would not have 
wandered to her in his delirium, till he imagined 
that she bent over him, and that her soft hand rested 
on his dying brow. But it wits not so. She was far 
away iu his western home, dreaming of the absent 
one, and he lay dying beneath the blue skies of the 
sunny South. Only the tear-dimmed eyes of his 
comrades caught the lust glances from his eyes as 
they closed in death. And when they laid him to 
his rest,— a soldier’s rest,— no solemn voice of 
prayer, or sweet song of praise rang out on the 
fragrant summer air, hut the hands of his brother 
soldiers hastily dug his grave, and they left him 
there with only the mournful breeze to sing his 
requiem as it sweeps through the forest,—the funeral 
song for one who gave life and all for his country's 
sake. 
And what of her who, far away, heard the sad 
tidings, and whose heart cried to heaven for help 
aud strength in that hour of agony? How a thousand 
memories of the past must have swept through her 
mind,— memories rendered bitter by the anguish of 
the present! Thoughts of the time when the rosy- 
cheeked babe lay sleeping upon her arrn, while all 
the deep, deathless love of a mother went out to the 
helpless little one; how years passed and his bound¬ 
ing step and merry laugh made music in his pleasant 
home; and then he grew thoughtful and manly, and 
she looked forward to the time when, leaning on his 
strong arm, she should pass down into the dark 
Valley of Death. But he has gone before, and never 
again shall his feet cross the threshold of home. 
Summer will pass with its golden harvests, and 
winter bring the family circle again around the glow¬ 
ing fire, but in morning’s dawn, or evening’s shade, 
never again shall his voice utter the word “ mother." 
1’oor mother! God jiity her! 
Sometime this dreadful war will come to a close. 
Truth and Justice will as surely prevail over Error 
and Wrong as God reigns: but at what a cost! It i3 
not enough that our country shall stand among the 
nations shorn of her ancient glory.—that our starry 
flag shall float in the breeze, dyed in brothers’ blood, 
and that humanity in its upward progress shall be 
retarded for years to atone for our errors; but when 
one thinks of the desolate homes and broken hearts 
that will be left behind when all is over, it is heart, 
sickening. When our glorious Btars and Stripes 
shall wave once more over the Palm as over the Pine, 
and from the blue lakes of the Northland to Texas’ 
green savannas shall be one united country as of old, 
bleeding hearts North and South shall bear witness 
at what a fearful price peace has been won. 
Verily, a day of reckoning will come, and that 
speedily, to those reckless leaders, of whatever name, 
who have plunged our once happy land into such 
distress, and dragged her so near to the brink of ruin! 
Goodrich, Mich., 1S61. Belle Howard. 
^tocrtiscnicnte. 
A STRING OF PEARLS. 
A punctual man can always find leisure, a negli¬ 
gent one never. 
If you employ your money in doing good, you 
put it out at the best interest. 
A pleasant jest in time of misfortune is courage 
to the heart, strength to the arm, and digestion to 
the stomach. 
The reasoning power is the corner-stone of the 
intellectual building, giving grace and strength to 
the whole structure. 
Men spend their lives in the service of their pas¬ 
sions, instead of emptying their passions in the 
service of their lives. 
Domestic jars, when concealed, are half reconciled. 
’Tis a double task to stop the breach at home and 
men’s mouths abroad. 
Mourn not that you are weak and humble. The 
gentle breeze is better than the hurricane, the cheer¬ 
ful fire of the hearthstone than the cofiflagr&tion. 
Grapple ever with opportunity. And, as you 
don’t know when opportunity will happen along, 
keep your grappling-irons always ready. 
A firm faith is the best theology: a good life the 
best philosophy; a clear conscience the best law; 
honesty the best policy; and temperance the best 
physic. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
ACROSTICAL ENIGMA. 
Tam composed of 21 l„u-, 
My 1, 12, 10. 7. 4 is a plant 
My 2, 7, 10 is a lady’s na me. 
My 3, 8, 13, 18 is a part of a ship. 
My 4, 18, 7 is a kind of tree. 
My 5, 6. 18, 17 is used in underdraining. 
My 6, 20. 4 is seen lu winter 
My 7, 2, 0 Is queen of the fab les. 
My 8,18, 14 is an imaginary spirit. 
My 0, 17, 4 is an insect. 
My 10, 2. 18, 13 is a college of great notoriety. 
My 11, 1ft, 10 is a plaything. 
My 12, 19, 17 is n farmer's implement. 
My 13, 2, 10. 18 is a title of nobility. 
My 14, 18, 16, 10, 2 is tbe goddess of flowers. 
My 1ft, 10, 4 Is part metal. 
My 10, 10, 8 Is a kind of grain. 
My 17, 18, 21 is n wild animal. 
My 18, 10, 10, 13 Is a musical Instrument. 
My 19, 2, 3 is a valuable tree, 
My 20. 16, 10, 2 is a serpent found in Peru. 
My 21, 6, 10, 3 is a Seotch name for the church. 
My whole is an old adage which all would do well to 
remember. 
Hillsboro. 111., 1861. Victor. 
Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
BIBLICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 24 letters. 
My 16, 10, 23. 10, 14 was tbe father of Lot. 
My 10, 6, 9 3. 17 was one of tbe sons of Jacob. 
My 20, 7, 14, 16, 8, 13, 0 is one of the hooks of the Old Testa¬ 
ment. 
My 11. o. 20. 21, 9 was the first thing created. 
To be 4, IS, 8, 16 is better than to be rich. 
My 21, 22. 1 was a good man. 
My 1. 24, 17 was a town in Palestine. 
My 19. 22, 12, 10 was a grandson of Jacob. 
My whole is a Bible promise. 
Rochester, N. Y.. 1861. T. C. 
Answer in two weeks 
CHARADE. 
My first’s a preposition small; 
But ’tis of frequent use. 
My second, if you say to me, 
You will my wish refuse. 
My third’s a coin of value small; 
Tis used by different races, 
Both in the western hemisphere 
And trans-Atlantic places. 
My whole is what a person ne’er 
Convicted of a crime 
Is said to be, but can, I trust. 
Be said of me and mine. 
JfJP” Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ALGEBRAICAL PROBLEM. 
There is a certain number of horses and sheep. If the 
square of the number of horses be added to the number of 
sheep, the amount will be equal to three times the number 
of sheep, plus sixteen. But if the square of the number of 
aheep be added to the number of horses, the amount will be 
equal to seveuty three times Die number of horses. Required, 
the number of horses and sheep. 
Clvmer, N. Y., 1861, M. W. C. 
fty” Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. GOO. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:— Gilbert Motier La 
Fayette. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma:—All is not gold that 
glitters. 
Answer to Arithmetical Problem:—B in 15 days—C in 18 
days. 
S YRACUSE 
IVIusic 
THE FALL TERM WILL COMMENCE ON 
• V O JVJO .4 r, AUGUST 1 2T/I, 1 8 G 1 . 
Tile object of this Institution- is to furnish a 
Musical Kducat ion 
In all its branches, practical and theoretical, to those who in¬ 
tend fitting themselves for the profession, either as Artists or 
Teachers. 
For particulars address 
H. WILDE or J. M. TRACY. Principals, 
60S-2t Syracuse, N. Y. 
F 
IFIST PREMIUM 
AWARDED BY 
New York State Agricultural Society, 
AT ELMIRA, OCT., I860. 
TO HARDER’S HORSE-POWER. 
THE SfBSCRIBrRS HAMFAIHRE AT (WML, Pi. Y„ 
ENDLESS CHAIN HORSE POWERS, 
COMBINED THRESHERS AND CLEANERS. 
THRESHERS AND SEPARATORS. 
Theft- Powers are ojierated with ip-’iter rax to the tram than 
others. Tunning with rerv low elevation, and slow travel of the 
hnr-e*. The Combined Thresher and Cleaner runs very easy, 
i< capacious, separates the grain cleanly from the straw, and 
cleans as well a reenlar fannlm- mill. In short, these ma- 
rhino, have m, -yi/url, of w hich fact m believe we can satisfy all 
who will consult their own interest by addressing 
ft97-»teol It. A M. II AUI1KK. Cobh skill. Schoharie Co.. N. Y, 
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S. W. DIBBLE, Agnu, 
5 79-tf ROCHESTER, N. T. 
J 1.V1E.—I’nac’n Perpetual Kiln, Patented July, 
_j ]S57.— Superior to any in u<e for Wood or Coal. 2% cord* 
ot wool, or I >5 tuns of coal to 109 bbls. —coal not mixed with 
stone. Address |4S4-tf) C D. PAGE. KnohenW. N Y 
jJOOKS 
FOR RURA.LISTS. 
Tim following works on Agriculture, Horticulture, Ac., may 
be obtamed at the Office of the Rriui. Nkw-Youkkk We can 
also furnish other books on Rural Affairs, issued by American 
publishers, at the usual retail prices,—and shall add new works 
as published, t ZT RURAL Agents entitled to premiums, and 
who art* tillered a choice of books, can select from this list. 
American Farmers Ency. 
doped]a. ..ft 09 
Alien's Am. Farm Book....] ou 
AllenS Diseases of Domes¬ 
tic .A nlmnJit...... 75 
Illon'tP,, — 1 J„.l, .lectum l 
Allen on the Urnpn.1 oo 
Am. Architect, or Pinn* for 
i ountiy Dwelling*..fiftt 
American FloristSCuide,.- 75 
oi . ...I 29 
Blake's Farmer at Home...) 25 
Boussingault» Rural Econ¬ 
omy .. 125 
Bright on Grape Culture... 60 
BrowneS Bird Fancier. 50 
Browne's Poultry Yard..,.! oo 
lie. Field Book of Manures 1 25 
Biidgeman < Hard. Ane't_1 5U 
lb, Florist's Guide... 60 
Do. Kitchen Uanlcncr’s In¬ 
structor.......... 
Do. Fruit Cult Manual ... ft) 
Brerl.'s Hunk of Flowers... .1 00 
Bnft-ts Flower Garden_1 25 
Do. Family Kitchen Card. 75 
Chemical Field Lectures...1 00 
Chinese Butin i Cane and 
Sugar Making.. 28 
Choriton'i Gnqie Growers 
Gll'de. 60 
Gobbet*** Am Gardener... 50 
Cottage and Farm Bee¬ 
keeper.. 
Cole's Am. I'rnit Book— . ft) 
Do. Am. Veterinarian. flO 
Dadd * Modern Horse Doc.. 1 00 
Dp, Aoi. Catthi Doctor.I 00 
i)n. Anatomy and Pliyri- 
oloy of Urn Horse. .2 00 
Do. colored plates.4 00 
Dana s Muck Manual.1 00 
Dn. Prize Essay on Manures 23 
Darlington's Weeds and U.-e 
fal Plants.I ft) 
Davy's Devon Herd Book. 1 ft) 
Domestic and Ornamental 
Poultry.1 00 
Dn colored plates. 200 
Downing ,- Fruits and Fruit 
Trees. 1 75 
Downing’s Landscape Gar¬ 
dening.3 ft) 
Do. Rum! Essays. 3 ft) 
Eastwood's Cranberry Cul¬ 
ture. ft) 
Elliott H West Fruit Book 1 25 
Every Lad? her own Flower 
Gaidenor. 50 
Family Doctor by Prof. II. 
8 Taylor. . ,.125 
Farm Drainage, (H. F. 
French).1 00 
Fessenden’s Farmer and 
Gardener ..,.1 25 
Do, Am Kitchen Garden-. 50 
Field's FearCuflure. ) '*0 
Fish Culture.1 00 
Flint on Graves.J 25 
Guenon on Milch Cows..., 60 
Herbert to Hoise-keepers .l 25 
Hoops r's Dm: A Gun, paper, 25 
Do do doth.. 50 
Hough's Farm Record.300 
Hyde's Chinese Sugar Cane 25 
Kidder's Guide to Apiarian 
Johnston's Agricultural 
Chemistry ■ .125 
Do. Elements of Ag. Chem¬ 
istry and Geology.1 00 
Do Catechism I 'liomlstiy 
Coeevliool*... 21 
l.au.--troth on the Hive aud 
Honey Bee.. .] ;i 
l.euchar* Hot Housed_] J 
Liebig* Fanil lUr Letters to 
Farmers. •, 
I.iii-ln '- 11 organ Horses. Im 
MI in- r VBee-kee per * M annul I" 
Miles oil the Horse's Foot. .',1 
Milburu on Cow. 25 
Modern Cookery by Mi- 
Acton and Mra-8. J, Hale,125 
ill-. Abel'* Skillful House¬ 
wife and 1.ftdles'Guide. 10 
Saxton s Ku hi I Hand Books. 
bound in 4 Series_ each 1 ill 
Muuu'hLaud Drainer.. ... 6) 
Nayil's Progressive Farms) 1 0 
Neills Card. Companion...ltM 
Norton * F.lemeuts of Agr.- 
cutture .... . 60 
Qlcott'sSOrgho and Implied is) 
Pardee on the Strawberry to 
Pedder s Land .Measurer fti 
Persons New Culture of the 
Vine ... . 25 
Phelps' It.in-keeper'll Chart 25 
yulno.V H Mysteries of Bee¬ 
keeping.IIV 
Quincy on Soiling Cattle,.. ,v 
Rabbil Fancier.-- 50 
Randall's Sheen Husband¬ 
ry . i!5 
Richardson on the Horse,.. il 
Do, Peats of I in- Farm. il 
I)o. Domestic Fowls. A 
Do. On the Ifog.,. A 
Do, or, the Honey Bee_ A 
Do, on the Dog. A 
Reemeiin's Vine-dresser* 
Manual.. 50 
Shepherd's Own Book... . .2 ft) 
Stray Leaves from the Book 
of Nature...I 00 
Stephens' Book of the Farm 
2 vols.4 00 
Skillful Housewife. 25 
Skinner's Elements ot Ag¬ 
riculture ... 25 
Smith* Landscape Gar¬ 
dening. .1 25 
Timer's Principles of Agri¬ 
culture .2 ft) 
Thomas' Farm Implement") ft) 
Thompson s l-'ood of Ani- 
mal*. 75 
The Rose Culturiat.. • 50 
Tophain'a Chemistry Made 
Easy. . . 25 
Turner’s Cotton Planter's 
Manual.1 00 
Warder's Hedges and Ever¬ 
greens'.100 
Waring'* Elements of Ag¬ 
riculture.. 75 
Weeks on Bees .. 25 
Wilson on Flax. 2 * 
YoOftTt A MarlinouCattle. 125 
Youattnn tho Horse.125 
Do. on Sheen. 75 
Do. on the Hog. 75 
Science. ft) 
Any of the above named works will tie forwarded by 
mail, post-paid, on receipt of the price specified. 
Address lb lb T. MOO It K, Rochester, N. Y. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
T UK LARGKST CIRCULATED 
AGRICULTURAL. LITERARY AND FAMILY WEEKLY, 
is PcausuxD every Saturday 
BY D. D, T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Terms in Advance s 
Subscription —Two Dollars a Year. To Clubs and 
Agents as follows.—Three Copies one year, for $5; Six, and one 
free to club agent, for $10; Ten, and one free, for $15; Fifteen, 
and one free, for $21; Twenty, and one free, for $25; and any 
greater number at same rate —only $1.25 per copy,— with an 
extra free copy fur every Ten Subscribers over Twenty. Club 
papers directed to Individuals aud sent to a* many different 
Post-Offices as desired. As we pre-pay American pontage on 
papers sent to the British Provinces, our Canadian agents and 
friends must add 12.)$ cents per copy to the club rates of the 
Rural. The lowest price of copies sent to Europe, &c., is 
$2.50—including postage. 
tty Postage Stamps are taken at par on subscription, and 
greatly preferred to Western or other uncurrent money. 
Adterlising —Thirty-Fivk Cents a Link, each inser¬ 
tion. A price and a half lor extra display, or 52F* cents per Une 
or space Special Notices, (following reading matter, leaded.) 
Sixty Cents a Line. The Rcral Nkw-FORKeb has a far 
larger circulation than any similar journal in tbe world, aim ft 
undoubtedly the best advertising medium of its class in America 
lx consequence of its largely increased circulation, we 
are obliged to put the last form of the Rural to press eaiher 
than formerly, and advertisements should reach us on Honda]/ 
to secure insertion the same week. 
