aE'3 KBKAL SEW 
3S3 
[Written for Moon’s Rural New-Yorker ] 
MORE MEN WANTED! 
HV MINMK US ISTWOOtl. 
More men wanteil—our country to free 
From dastardly band* which already arc stained 
With the blood of brave merit Oh, brothers, will ye 
Longer stood and see Liberty hopelessly chained? 
Did our Spartans all leap In th‘ rauk* at th' call 
Which first summoned our brave eldest ones forth? 
Shall th’ freedom our fathers bequeathed to ,lh 
Become blackened and stained, oh, men of the North ' 
Your harvest i» gathered—no harvest ye U need, 
If ye will sec made for our country a grave; 
Fairer hands than your own can scatter the seed, 
If ye will but hasten our country to save’ 
Oh, fathers and mothers! “ the land of ttr free ” 
Has claims which are stronger than yours on your sons. 
Bid them go—your love shall their talisman he; 
If they fall, they but “fash out their souls with their guns!' 
Fair maiden* and wives! though, jour brows may have paled, 
And your sad heart* keenest anguish have known, 
Hold not back the strong arum which for you never failed; 
Our Country lias called fur naught but its own. 
From city and town, from hamlet and dell, 
Ohl ye freemen, aronse, onr country to save! 
Yield up and leave aft—wait no longer—oh, tell 
What your lives would be worth should ye no country have ? 
Ludlowville, Tomp. Co., N. Y., 1861. 
5 
A A 
/ V -> 
EASY WARREN. 
BY W. T. COHOSH ALL. 
Raymond Wakrjen was a "nice” man — every¬ 
body’s clever fellow — as I beard a public man once 
remark, "a very extensive office,” with numerous 
duties, never discharged. Raymond used to sit in the 
chimney corner late, very late, on a winter’s night, 
because he was too shiftless to get ready for bed. 
But after a while the lire burned low, the glow on 
the embers faded, and it grew cold in the chimney 
corner; then Raymond became chilly, and ho would 
sneak to rest, where his wife, perhaps, had been for 
several hours, endeavoring to recover from the severe 
fatigue of a day’B work, into which had been crowded 
the greater portion of her husband’s legitimate 
duties. Raymond owned a large farm left him by 
bis father; it was good land, but the fences were not 
in repair, and everybody’s cattle roamed through the 
fields, and Raymond’s crops were not sufficient to 
yield the family a decent support. The farm had 
once been well stocked, but for want of proper atten¬ 
tion the cattle became poor; the sleep were never 
folded, even in the most rigorous weather, and many 
of them died. The wool was never properly sheared, 
and washed, and when taken to market it would not 
bring market prices. Rad It not been for Raymond’s 
wife, who was a business woman, the family must 
often have suffered for the common necessaries 
of life. 
Raymond’s chores were rarely attended to by him¬ 
self, but was a neighbor sick, no man was more wil¬ 
ling to work in his place, lie was relied upon as the 
man who would always neglect his own interests, to 
look after those of somebody else. He could never 
set himself at his own farm work; but he was con¬ 
sidered an excellent hand when, to oblige a neighbor, 
be took a job in his field. 
It was a bleak morning in mid-winter. Raymond 
Warren’s will* was in the barnyard foddering the cat¬ 
tle—Raymond was in bed. The light of a brisk lire, 
which his wife bad built, shone directly in his face. 
It awakened him; the room was warm, and Raymond 
was persuaded by its inviting appearances to arise, 
lie sat down by the fire-place in his shirt sleeves, and 
waited for his wife to come and get him some break- 
last. As he warmed his feet, lie felt that he had 
reason to congratulate himself on bis happy situa¬ 
tion, and be. said to himself, "’Taint every man’s got 
such a wife as 1 have. Here she’s made a good fire, 
and I’ll hot the chores are all done.” 
The chores wore done, and Raymond had scarcely 
finished his soliloquy, when the useful wife hastened 
to the fire-place to warm her hands, which had 
become thoroughly chilled by the cold handle of a 
pitchfork with which she had been throwing hay and 
Btraw to the cattle. 
It might be supposed that these occurrences took 
place early in the morning. Not. so. It was ten 
o’clock when Raymond Warren left his bed. His 
wife had been sewing for two hours before she pre¬ 
pared her breakfast; then she urged Raymond for an 
hour longer to get up. lie made fair promises, but 
left them all unfulfilled. She waited until it was nine 
o’clock, and then, knowing her husband’s easy 
habits, and ashamed to have the cattle unfed at that 
hour of the day, she determined to attend to their 
wants herself. 
Raymond’s fipff salutation to her as she stood by 
the fire, was — 
"I wish I bad some tea, Sally. But never mind; 
you’ve put the things away; a little warm water, with 
a little milk and sugar in it, will do just as well. And 
while yon are about it., you may get me a little piece 
of bread; but just as you choose; no matter about it 
anyhow. It aint every man’s got such a woman for 
a wife.” Hhc might have answered, " It is not every 
woman that has such a husband.” 
But she knewsuch remarks would only make bitter 
feelings, and though fatigued with the violent exer¬ 
cise she had Liken, she went cheerfully and prepared 
her easy, good-natured husband a cup of tea and 
a slice of toast, and then asked him if he would not 
cut some wood. 
“ To he sure I will,” was his response. 
His breakfast over, lie took up hi9 ax, mounted the 
wood-pile, and cut half a dozen sticks, when along 
came a neighbor who wanted Raymond to accompany 
him to a sawmill about two miles distant, and assist 
in loading upon a sled some board.? which had been 
sawed for him. Of coarse Raymond went, and liis 
wife was compelled to out wood enough to keep the 
house warm until the following day. 
Mrs. Warren was, in appearance, a feeble woman; 
but she had endured hardship which would have 
destroyed the constitution of one much more robust. 
Day after day her strength failed her, yet she made 
no complaint, Raymond saw that she grow*pale, and 
was often disturbed with fears in regard to her; but 
be was too easy to mention the subject, and the use¬ 
ful wife became more feeble, until she was seized 
with a violent, cough. Raymond was one day thought¬ 
ful enough to speak to the village doctor a a he passed 
their house with his ponderous medicine portmanteau 
on his arm, and the benevolent gentleman, who had 
some knowledge of Raymond’s peculiar failings, left 
the woman an innocent tincture, and forbade expo¬ 
sure to the cold atmosphere under uuy circumstances, 
and also declared that her complaint was of a charac¬ 
ter very much aggravated by severe exercise. For a 
few days Raymond remembered the doctor’s counsel, 
and as’ he had respect for the physician, he obeyed 
him as nearly as his constltntional failings permitted; 
but soon the wife was again obliged to chop wood 
and feed cattle, and taking a severe cold, she faded as 
would fade the summer rose in a frigid climate. 
When Raymond Warren’s house was desolate and 
his fireside cheerless, lie saw what had been his great 
j error during the two year* of his married life, and be 
mourned his wife deeply, it must be said in bis favor, 
both as a helpmate and companion. He ient$ bis 
j farm, and managed to exist •• easily” for one year; 
I but he was a domestic man -he was not satisfied with 
n childless widower’s solitary lot, and he'bcgan to 
look about him for a second helpmate and com¬ 
panion. In a few months he took to bis homeja 
woman who. be confidently felt, would fill the plff e 
left vacant by his first wife. T, 
Sadly was Raymond disappointed. A few weeks 
elapsed, and be fell into bis old habits with complete 
I abandon. Leaving hi* own work in a neglected 
state, he worked diligently one day to assist a neigh¬ 
bor in getting wood to bis bouse, and be returned to 
bis home late at night, hungry and fatigued, expect¬ 
ing that his wife would have ready for his refresh¬ 
ment an inviting supper. Poor fellow I The kitchen, 
where was to have been Ids excellent supper, 
attended by a smiling wife, was cold and unoccupied. 
No frugal board was there, and Mrs. Warren was in 
bed. Raymond was much astonished, and too good 
natured to complain, and silently he ventured to 
explore, the cupboard for a crust on which to satisfy 
the gnawings of bis appetite. Not a crumb was 
there. It was evident Ids wife had designed that lie 
should go to bed snpperlesa; and supperleas to bed 
lie did go, grieving seriously over bis hard lot. He 
had never before been so badly treated, and he 
thought it indeed distressing; but yet his disappoint¬ 
ment was not bad enough to revolutionize biB con¬ 
stitutional good nature, and without a mutter he fell 
sound asleep. 
Raymond Warren did not hear chanticleer salute 
the morning, as it dawned after the night of 1)1* 
grievous disappointment. It wus springtime, and 
the birds sang under bis window, but he hoaid them 
tu ,t—yet lie heard his wife, who had risen before the 
sun, call to him — “Wr. Warren, here I’ve been for 
an hour in the cold; the wood’B all burned. It’s 
time I had some cut. IT you want any breakfast you 
bad better get up.” 
Was Raymond dreaming? Was this a voice of 
reproach, that came to him in his sleep, with recol¬ 
lections of the wife that had gone before him to the 
spirit land? Not so; it was a voice from the wife 
that dwelt with him in this sphere of existence, that 
came to remind him of duties not discharged, upon 
performance of which depended the satisfaction of 
those desires which had intruded visions of feasts 
upon bis hours of rest. All this he felt; still he did 
not offer to leave his couch. 
"Raymond Warren,” again said the voice, “you 
left me yesterday without wood, to help a neighbor 
get wood for his wife, and you went to bed last night 
without your supper; you’ll not get a bite to eat in 
this house till you bring me wood to cook it with.” 
"There’s plenty of chips,” said Raymond, in palli¬ 
ation, rising on his elbow as he spoke. 
"Get up, then, and bring them ihto the house,” 
said the resolute wife. “ I didn’t know you when 
mond was about to go with some neighbors to a 
town-meeting, when his wife hid bis best coat, and 
reminded him of the empty flour-barrel. Another 
day, bis corn was to be gathered, when a neighbor 
desired him to assist him with bis horses and wagon. 
Tt v#as a neighbor who often received favors, but 
seldojn rendered them; yet Easy Warren could not 
i refuse him. But, when he went to hitch his horses 
f before bis wagon, be found that, one of the wheels 
was missing. Of course, the neighbor was disap¬ 
pointed. In the afternoon, when Raymond expressed 
a wish to draw hi* corn, bis wife told him where he 
could find the lost wagon-wheel. 
Thus was Easy Warren’s household managed, until 
he began to realize practically what the error of his 
life had been. People said, " Warren’s farm looks 
much better than it did some years ago.” Mrs. 
Warren never interfered with Raymond's business 
except when be neglected It, and then she net er 
found fault or sdolded, but took occasion to show bis 
neglect to him in a ruamicr which impressed him 
with his injustice to his own interests. 
Raymond’s cattle were well cared for, and were in 
good order. When his fences were down, if he did 
j not replace them, Id* wife employed a neighbor to 
make the necessary repairs. His wife took the 
papers, and read; she knew the state of the market, 
and, to oblige her, Raymond had his gruin in market 
when the price was highest Some people said: 
"Easy Warren is a hen-pecked husband.” But he 
knew better, and often boasted that his wile was 
more of a " business man ” than he was. 
They had lived together peaceably some years, 
when, one day, Raymond was in a good humor think¬ 
ing over his prosperous condition, and he told his 
wife_“ p,n a woman’s-rigbt’s man of the true grit. 
They may say you wear the breeches, if they please; 
Pin satisfied to have you do the thinking for our 
firm. And, now I Bee what a fool I have been, I 
must make up for my early sbiftlessness.” lie did 
make Up for Id* early sbiftlessness; and, under bis 
judicious wife’s training, he became Industrious, 
instead of Easy, Warren. 
Mrs. Warren had the correct idea of woman’s 
wrongs. We commend her management to those 
who have “ easy husbands.” Especially do we com¬ 
mend it to those unfortunate women who have earned 
for themselves the opprobrious title of " scolds.” — 
Literary Companion. 
the wayside —some offered blessing untouched; and 
when, at a later period than usual, Mr. Edwards 
turned bis steps homeward, he felt as if be had lost 
instead of gained a day. 
Dear Louis ! Away, faster than his feet conld 
carry him. went the heart of Mr. Edwards, towards 
his darling boy. Somehow, the father’s imagination 
would present no other image of the child, except 
one that showed him in grief for the kiss denied that 
morning. 
" Where is Louis?” were the first words spoken by 
Mr. Edwards, as he entered the room where his wife 
was sitting. It was at least an hour after nightfall. 
" In bed, and asleep,” was the answer. 
At another time, this answer would have produced 
no unpleasant feelings: now, it was felt almost like a 
painful shock. 
Mr. Edwards went to the chamber where Louis lay, 
in his little bed. The gas waa burning low; he 
turned it up, so that the light would fall upon his 
face. How beautiful it was, in its childish inno¬ 
cence! How placid! And yet the father's eyes saw, 
looking, as they did, through the medium of a 
troubled state, a touch of grief upon the lips, and a 
Bhade of rebukiug sadness on the brow of his 
darling. 
"Precious one!” be said, as be bent to kiss the 
pure forehead. “I wronged both your heart and 
mine.” * » 
It Beemed to him, after that kiss and confession, 
that the sleeper’s face took on a more peaceful, loving 
aspect. For many minutes be stood gazing down 
upon bis unconscious boy; then, murmuring to him- 
M r,lf—“ It shall not be so again, sweet one!'—lowered 
the gas to a taper flame, and went with noiseless 
footsteps from the room. 
Fur the gain of half a minute to business, in the 
morning, what a loss had there been to love, and 
peace, and comfort, for the space of hours. Let us 
take care of our nows, and our to-days; for herein 
lies the true secret of happiness, and the true 
philosophy of life.— Arthur's Home Magazine. 
OUR FALL CAMPAIGN! 
The Rural, on Trial, at only Half Price ! 
Is response to late requests from Agents and 
others, we would state that, in order to accommodate 
those wishing to try the Etkal New-\okker for a 
few months—and also as a means of introducing it 
more generally in many localities preparatory to the 
commencement of a new volume — wu have conclu¬ 
ded to offer tho paper from September 1st to January, 
or from October to January, at only Half Prick. 
We will therefore send the Rural from September 1st 
to January (4 months, or 1" papers,) for 33 cents or 
3 copies for $1, G for $2, &c. From October to Jan¬ 
uary (3 month*— 13 paper*,) at only 25 cts. per copy 
— or 4 copies for $1, 8 for $2, 12 for S3, <Ve. In each 
case we will send to #s many different post-offices as 
desired. Our Canada friends will of course aid 
American postage (at the rate of 12J eta. for 12 
months,) to the above rates. 
%-rt~ This i* offering the Rdrai. below war prices, 
aDd at a rate affording us no profit. But we hope, by 
thus furnishing the paper at or below cost, to intro¬ 
duce it to thousands who will become permanent 
subscribers. As the times are improving, and the 
long evenings and period of leisure are coming on 
apace, we trust the agents and other friends of the 
Rural will kindly aid in extending its circulation 
and benefits. Almost any reader so disposed, c»h 
obtain from 4 to 20 trial subscribers with compara¬ 
tively little effort— thus not only benefiting individ¬ 
uals and community, but contributing to the future 
prosperity and usefulness of the paper. Friends of 
the Rural and its Objects! will you not make some 
effort in the right direction — to further the circula¬ 
tion of the favorite Rural Weekly, and render its 
Fall Campaign successful? 
QVbmlteemente. 
Wit xnA 
*0 
NOW AND TO-DAY. 
WAR WIT. 
kursell’s flight. 
wp were 
married; hut I know you now. 1 know 
what killed your first wife. You want to make a 
Slave of me. I’ll attend to my duties; but if yon 
don’t do your chores, the cattle may starve; and 
you’ll never get a bite to eat in this house, unless 
you take It uncooked, if you don't cut wood yourself 
or get somebody to do it tor you. 
Raymond started bolt upright, and it was not man} 
minutes before he was at the wood-pile. Diligently 
did lie work until be hud cut an armful, which, like 
a dutiful husband, for tho first time in his life, he 
carried into the kitchen. His wife made no allusion 
to what had passed, and Raymond, although burning 
with curiosity to know where she had learned what 
she had revealed to him, dared not commence con¬ 
versation in relation to it. The train of ills it might 
revive was fearful to the easy man’s mind. His 
breakfast over, forgetful of its lesson, careless Ray 
mond wandered away from home, his morning labors 
in his farm-yard unattended to, and his wood-pile 
unvisited. He returned home at noon, strong in 
faith that he should sit down to a good dinner; 
because he was one of those men who think that a 
wife should always give her husband a good dinner, 
whether she have anything to cook or not. Mrs. 
Warren had enough to cook, hut nothing to cook 
with; however, much to Raymond’s satisfaction, 
when lie entered hut homo lie found I he table spread, 
and lie knew he should soon be invited to take a scat 
near it. 
When the invitatiou* came, he hastened to bis 
accustomed seat, lifted the cover from a dish that he 
supposed contained meat —aud, truly, there was 
meat, but just as it came from the butcher's! Ray¬ 
mond was not a cannibal; he looked at his wife 
inquiringly; she appeared to be waiting patiently to 
be served. He lifted the cover of another d.alt; there 
were potatoes just as they had been dug from the 
earth. All the dishes that usually contained victuals 
were covered. Raymond grew suspicions, and he 
lifted the covers hastily. There was bread, as it bad 
come from the tray; there were turnips that had 
never been uuder tho iulluence of lire; there were 
apples handsomely sliced for sauce; and thoie weie 
numerous other edibles, but none of them could 
Raymond cot. He turned for consolation to a cup 
of tea his wife bad deposited near his plate. There 
were tea-leaves floating in the cup, but the tea looked 
remarkably pale: nevertheless, Raymond, by force ot 
habit, blew it vigorously, to prepare it for his palate. 
But when he put it to his lips, he found that he had 
wasted his breath —for the water was as cold as 
when it came from spring. 
Raymond was not a hasty man. He pushed back 
his chair deliberately, and thought aloud: — " In the 
name of Heaven, what does this mean?” 
Mrs. Warren, whose countenance during this scene 
had worn a sober aspect, now smiled very pleasantly, 
and answered: “The victuals were all ou the stove 
the usual time.” ** • 
"It’s strange they were not eook?d,” said Raymond. 
"Not at all,” replied Mrs. Warren; "there was no 
wood to cook them with.” 
In an instant Easy Warren then saw what a 
"moral” there was in his novel dinner, and, with a 
keen appetite, he went, to work on the wood-pile, 
lie took his dinner and supper together that day, and 
he remembered that Mrs. M arren said: 
"Now. Raymond, whenever you leave me without 
wood, yon must eat victuals that have been cooked 
on a cold stove.” 
Many women would have stormed and scolded; 
but Mrs. Warren knew there was a better way to 
correct her easy husband's carelessness—or shiftless- 
ness, as the reader pleases. 
One day there was no flour in the house, and Ray- 
Ofr to-days — how inadequately are they appre¬ 
ciated? Now—in which all the blessing* of life is 
alone included —with what strange indifference do 
wc turn from its offerings, to least our eyes on 
gardens of delight, that spread away, temptingly, in 
a future that forever mock* us with tho unattained ? 
There are pearls and diamond* scattered all along the 
path* we are treading, but wo cannot stop to gather 
them for looking at the mountains of gold that gleam 
against the far horizon. All of our unhappiness 
springs from neglected or misspent nows and to-days. 
The present moment is God’s loving gift to man. in 
it we weave the web of our future, and make its 
threads blight with sunshine, or dark with evil and 
suffering. 
"Come and kiss me, papa,” cried a voice full of 
muBic and love. » 
Bui pap* was lu 0". sage below, with coat, hat 
and gloves on, all n any to go forth to the day’s busi¬ 
ness, and little pet Louis was up in his mother’s 
chamber, only half dressed. 
"Haven’t time now, I’ll kiss you when I come 
home,” papa answers back, and then starts from the 
house in a hurried manner. 
A pearl lay at his feet, and Mr. Edwards had failed 
to lift the precious thing. He would have been so 
much the richer for life. 
"Dear Lu!” he said to himself, as he moved along 
the street, "that kiss would have done us both good, 
and consumed but half a minute of time; aud I baldly 
think that I shall find another half minute so richly 
freighted with blessings to-day.” 
At. the corner of the next square, Mr. Edwards 
waited four minutes for an omnibus. It was lost 
time. Four minutes spent with dear, pet Louis, how 
full of pleasure they would have been—how fragrant 
their memory through all the day! 
When Mr. Edward* arrived at his store, neither his 
morning newspaper nor hi* book-keeper was there. 
So, lie could neither get at his books, which were in 
the fire-proof, nor glean from his Gazette the com¬ 
mercial news, or state of the markets. No customeis 
were in at so early an hour. And so Mr. Edwards 
passed the next twenty minutes in comparative idle¬ 
ness, Ids mind burdened just enough to make him 
feel uncomfortable, with the thought of little Louis, 
grieving over the coveted purling kiss. 
At. the end of twenty minutes the book-keeper ar¬ 
rived. The honey of Louis’ parting kiss would have 
sweetened the temper of Mr. Edwards for the day. 
Without it, under slight annoyances, his spirit grew 
sour. He spoke to the book-keeper with slight 
impatience, and in words of reproof, for being late. 
A sick child was the excuse; and as he looked into 
bis clerk’s luce, he saw that it was pale with trouble 
and watching. 
Mr. Edwards sighed. The pressure on bis feelings 
was heavier. Everything, during that day, seemed 
to possess a strange power of annoyance; and to the 
failure to lift a pearl from his feet in the morning 
was added many failures of a like character. 
"Will you please to buy an almanac?” said a 
childish voice, near him. 
"No, 1 do not please.” was the gruff reply of Mr. 
Edwards, He spoke as be looked up, on the mo¬ 
ment’s impulse. The timid, half-frightened face of a 
tender child, scarcely a year older than his darling at 
home, glanced upon him for an instant, and then he 
saw only the retreating form of a little girl. Before 
his better feelings,prompted a recall of his repellant 
words, she was in the street, and out. of sight. 
This was a little* thing iu itself, but it lold sharply 
on the feelings of Mr. Edwards, who was naturally a 
kind-hearted man. He sat very still for a little while, 
then, sighing again, went on with the letter lie was 
writing when the little almanac-seller disturbed lum 
at his work. Another “ now” had passed, leaving a 
shadow, instead of the sunshine it might have 
bestowed. 
" CaD you help me out to-day ? 1 have a large note 
falling due.” 
" I cannot,” replied Mr. Edwards. 
The neighbor looked disappointed, and went away. 
Now that neighbor had many times obliged Mr. 
Edwards in a similar way. Our merchant had no 
balance over in bank. That may he said for him. 
But he had money out on call, and could, without 
inconvenience, have helped his neighbor. He re¬ 
membered this after it was too late. The "now” 
had passed again, and left upon his memory another 
burden of unquiet thought. 
And so the huurs of that day passed, each one leav¬ 
ing some "now” unimproved—some pearl lying by 
Thk scene—Virginia's hills and dales; 
The time—the dead of night; 
The characters—ten thousand men, 
In swift, " disgraceful ” flight. 
\ GKNTS WANTED to SELL FRUIT TREKS. 
r\ Wk wish to employ a number of experienced and trust¬ 
worthy men to sell tree*. Ac., from our Nurseries at .iberal 
" Whoukkai.k DKALRUS furnished with Nursery. Stock er all 
descrip,ions at the FARLEY * CO.. „ v 
& u 4 tf ItocbMiwr VVbok‘s*i« Nurwrit 4 *, Roc boater, N. Y. 
U 
ID A MI L Y NEWSPAPER.” — 
r Mrs. Hankins Mammoth Pictorial is In It*Sixth Volume 
and ha* 3O0.000 renders Full of Engraving# and F aehlon l isles 
Largest. nice-’ mi'! best in the world for “ft el*. a year. Aokst# 
wanted. Ladies, Teacher*, Clergymen, or Pout-Ms*tern, For 
S^dmen Copies and Terms to Awei.tn, Lteln sn red .tom ^ 
W HEELER & WILSON MANUFACTURING CO’» 
IMPROVED FAMILY SEWING MACHINES 
Confusion and disorder reign 
As far as eye can see, 
And look! a horseman leads the van— 
A valiant LL D. 
And why this rushing? why this rout? 
You ask a horseman pale. 
1 Why they but run through deadly fear, 
And J to reach the. mail.'" 
WITH NEW 
Glass Cloth Presser and Hemmers, 
AT REDUCED PRICES. 
I I 
How many a man in this poor world, 
If he but tell the tale , 
But sees his neighbor fly through fear, 
Himself to reach the mail. 
Boston Journal. 
THE WHEELER & WILSON MANUFACTURING CO he| 
to state that they hnvn reduced tho prices of their SEWING 
MACHINES, while they have added new aud important im¬ 
provement*. The reduction U made in Die hope that the Com¬ 
pany will have no more legal expenses defending their patent* 
&OS Broadway, New York. 
S. W. DIBBLK, A ttem, 
, ;7 ,,. T , _ ■ KSTl ft. a r 
( ’OUNTRY AGENTS WANTED.— 
Y' m A IIAY Mrs. Hankins want- Agent* at home or to 
travel tor her Pictorial "FAMILY NEWSPAPER” also Tor her 
Curious New Book of FEMALE CHARACTERS t«ii CITY 
For Specimens and Terms Inclose red stomp to HANKINS * 
CO , New York 
] i >1 K. I'ltiit-’H Pcrpotnul alio, Paieuied July, 
j IH 57 *_ ‘miiii. nor to any in use for Wood or Coal cord* 
J mo/. uperoi O 1,1,1, coal not mixed with 
A "maiden lady,” whose "school keepin’” and 
age have mode fearful havoc with her beauty, said 
ouo evening to one of her little boarders, .Now, ^ 
Johnny, you get to bed early and always do so, and ( 7 r nftuna or K° < Vt,V»’««t^r iX N 3 v- itU 
you Will be rosy-ehm-lied aud handsome when you stone. Address-USMt-—— 
grow up.” The little codger looked up quizzically 
into her wrinkled countenance, and said, "Well, 
Aunty, 1 guess you used to sit up late a good deal 
when you was young, didn’t you?” 
A doctor returned a coat to a tailor because it did 
not fit him. The tailor seeing the doctor at the 
funeral of one of his patients, said: "Ah, doctor, 
you are a happy man.' “IVhy so! asked the 
doctor. “Because,” replied the tailor, "you never 
have any of your had work returned ou your hands.” 
What is the difference between Charlotte Ann 
and Ann Eliza? One is a quack and the other a 
chemist. How so? Why, the former is a charlatan 
and the latter an analyzer. 
A celebrated poet advertised that he would sup¬ 
ply "Lines for any occasion.” A fisherman sought 
him soon after, and wanted "a line strong enough 
to catch a porpoise.” _ 
>OOKS 
FOR HUBALISTS. 
Tiik following works ou Agriculture, Horticulture, Ac., may 
bo obtained at the Office of the Kciiai. Nkw-Yorkkk. We can 
also furnish other books on Rural Allaire. is-rn-d by American 
publishers, at the usual retail prices, am! shall add new works 
a- published I tJT RURAL Agents entitled to premiums, and 
who are ollei ed a choice of book*, can select from thisjiat 
Anieric.ni !'armor* Lucy 
ciopeiha. .." 
Allen'/ Am. Farm Book---.* 
Allen's llir-ci-e* ol Domes- 
Alien s Kuril Architecture 8S 
Allen on the Grape 1 IW 
Am. Architect, or Plans for 
Country Dwellings ,.....t>00 
American Kloristsf.mae... to 
Barry *. Fruit Garden.1 Z> 
Blake'll Farmer at Home, -1 to 
BonssiOgauU s Rural Leon- 
omy ....... .. . ., io 
Bright i e, (Hupe Culture, 2d 
Miiitiou.- . yy, 
Browne* J$ird>HnfcM?r..,.. 
itew fm tlw 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 80 letters. 
My 1, 11, 17, 23, 24 is a county in Tennessee. 
My 3, 21, 28, 29, 2 is a girl’s name. 
My 6,18 is a preposition. 
My 17, 12, 20, 30 , 4 is something without which we could not 
live. 
My 11, 20, 2, 10, 30, 5 is a number. 
My 14, 3, 26,11,13 is a county in New York. 
My 8, 15, 19, 9, 24, 12 is a girl’s name. 
My 5, 11, 20, 13, 27, ft Is a river in British America. 
My 26, 7, 17, 22, 4, 28 Is a county in Maryland. 
My 22, 8, 20, 6, 11. 4 is a man's name. 
My 6, 26, 30,16, 6, 0,16, ft is what must be preserved. 
My whole Is what we should all do. 
Spencer, Tioga Co., N. Y., 1861. Mary. 
Answer in two weeks. 
CHARADE. 
My first is capable of sense and sound; 
My second, though not globular, is round 
And endless, but not everlasting. 
My whole is an ornament my first made fast in. 
Answer in two weeks. 
Browne- •— , , w , 
Brow lies .. ) «rd — 1 
Do. Field Dookol Manures 1 ja 
Do. Fiorist's Guide......- '*> 
Do. Kitchen Gardener « Ill- 
, m uTnM to 
Brack's Hook or Flowers....! W 
K,lot's Flower Garden... . 1 
I>i, i .ti iilv kitrhui* ixaru »•> 
< Vail uil Field Lectures 1 
Chinese riugai- Cane and 
Suirai Making.....•** 
Cliorltous Grape Growers 
Guide..-•••. 
Col.bett s Am. Gardener to 
Cottage and Farm Bee- 
..-.. 
Cole's Am Fruit Hook. &' 
Do. Aid. Veterinarian. M 
Dadd's Modern llone' Doc. ) 00 
Do. Am Cattle Doetoi. . 1 00 
j)o. Anatomy and ili.vn- 
olov of thu Horse. 00 
Do. colored plates....4 00 
Danas Muck Manual . 1 *' 
Do I’rixt! Essay on Manure* Aj 
D arlington'* \\ eeds and Use- 
ful Plants.60 
Davy's Devon Herd Book, i 00 
Domestic and Ornamental 
Poultry... 
Do. colored plan s .. ... -00 
Downing's Fruileaod Fruit 
Truce......ITS 
Downing's Landscape Gar¬ 
dening-....-. 
Do. Komi Essay#.yrr 3lH 
Eastwood'* Cranberry Cub 
tnre... ^ 
ElliottV tVeet. Fruit Book I 2S 
Every Lady heroivn Flower 
Garde per.. .......... W 
Family Doctor by Prof. II. 
H. Taylor . 13 j 
Farm Drainage, (II. F- 
French) ..- l 00 
Ferseuden s 1 armor anu 
Gardener ...—..1-6 
Do. Am Kitchen Garden- to 
Field's Pear Culture. 1 00 
Fish Culture.. J JJJ 
Fliuton Gra»*M .. 
Guenon Oil Milch tows.,., to 
Herbert to Horse-keepers.. 1 26 
Hooper'# Do if ft' Gun. paper, A; 
Do. do. cloth.-. to 
Hough's Farm Record......3 00 
Kidder's Guide to Aplaruui 
Science. to 
Hy,!e'#Cblneu»Sugar Cane 2.’ 
Johnston'# Agricultural 
Chemistry...12* 
Do. Elements ol Ag. Chem¬ 
istry- and Geology.1 W 
D». Catechism ol Chemistry 
for Schools. 25 
Lftngi-iroth on the Hive and 
Hi,liny Bee .1 25 
Ij-uchar's Hot Houses-1 lb 
1 Jebig's Familiar bettors to 
Farmers. 5" 
Li lisle v s Morgan Horses . ] U0 
Mi iiei'sHei-.keeper s Manual 1 1 *> 
Miles ou Du-1 (orse's F oot.. to 
Millmrn on Cow.. 23 
Modern Cookery by Miss 
Anton and Mr*. S, J, Hale,125 
Mrs At nil's Skillful House¬ 
wife met Lelies' Guide.. M 
Siixtou - (to'»1 Hand Books, 
bound in 4 Series ....each 1 23 
Millin'* Land Drainer. to 
Nash’s Progressive Farmer. W 
Neill’s Kurd. Companion . KV 
Norton's Element* of Agri- 
erdture.. 
ile.ott e.-MT,-:,.. andIiupheel "0 
Pardee on the Strawberry mi 
P edder's I.iiud Measure! 30 
IVrsor.s New Culture of the 
Vine. 
Phelps’ Bee-keeper's Chart 23 
qmnby'n Mysteries of Bee- 
• i 'ft* 
Guine-v on Soiling Cattle, to 
Babbit Fancier ....... ... «J 
Bundlin'? Sheep Husband- 
rv..1 to 
RiwiardKin on the Horne.- 23 
Do. Pests of the Farm. 23 
Do. Domestic Fowls.,. 2* 
Do. on the Hog—.. *•? 
Do. on the Honey Bee..,.. ** 
Do. on the Dog. 23 
Reerueliu'* Viiie-dressers 
Manual. “ 
Shepherd's Own Book .... .2 W 
Sttav Leaves trout the Book 
of‘Nature— 4* 1 
Stephens' Book o! the Farm 
« v„ | s .4 
Skillful Housewife .. ..... 23 
Skinner's Elements ol Ag- 
rUMilturS... 
Smith's l.amL-eapc Gai- 
dening , 1 - 
Timer'* Principle# of Agri¬ 
culture --- - . 
Thomas Farm Implements J w 
Thoinp‘on'8 Food of Am- 
tnul*.. Jl 
The itoseCulturiot 
Top ham’s Chemistry Mwi" a 
Turner* Cotton"' Planter'* 
Manual . 
auiuus,-........ • - ■ 
Warder* Hedge* arid Ever- 
green*'.Y'iJ' 
mring's Element* ol Ag- 7J 
Muring- - 
riculture ... ^ 
Weeks on Bees. 2 * 
Wilson on J lax. a 
Youatt ft Mnrtin outaltie - 
Y-wuitt on the Horse. 
75 
Do, on Sheep. -« 
Do. on the Hog. . 
For Moore's Kural New-Yorker. 
SURVEYING QUESTION. 
Requirkp, to lay out a lot of land in the form of a long 
square, containing 3 acres, 2 roods, and 29 rods, that shall 
take just 100 rods of wall to inclose or fence it around. Pray, 
how many rods in length and how maoy wide must said 
1Otb0 * M W 
Clyde, N. Y., 1861. M ' W ' 
Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 009. 
8 clcnc6i .. w « l, ( 
(•■y— Any of the above named works will be for*ar 
mail post-paid on receipt or tho price specified. 
Address l>- >»• T. Moo UK, Rochester. -' 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THK LAKGEST OiaCCLATKK ouVTV 
AGRICULTURAL, LITERARY AM) EAM1LY WLULI, 
IS PUBLISHED SVKKY SATUKOAl 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, S. Y. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Flavius Josephus. 
Answer to Charade:—Cat-a-line. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—20 miles. 
Answer to Enigma: 
THE STOKM. 
BY JKDEDIAH BOGUS- 
The thunder rolled from pole to pole! 
The lightning flashed from sky to sky . 
The cattle stuck up their tails and run— 
And so did—did I. 
Terms in Advance: 
Subscription Two Dollars a ^ kaK ' T ° ^ l “ ndone 
Agents as follow--Three Copies one year, tor ..... « •. (>m 
free lo club agent, for $10; Ten. and one frj br $, ^ 
undone free, for ^Twenty, and *D 
greater number nt seme rate — only ri - p ... . ... club 
extra free copy for every Ten Subscribers m e ^ ^ dak , ren t 
papers directed to Individuals and *en ^Luge no 
Post-Offices a* desired. As we pre-pay Ame ao d 
Ill, BSM I’ro.inc** <« 
friends must add 12^Cento per copy to the c i* 
Ri-kal. The lowest price of copie* seat to Liu P . 
$ 2 . 50 —including postage . d 
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greatly preferred to Western or other uncurrent mo 
_ fTXZ - ^ 
