/ 
OUR FALL CAMPAIGN! 
let’s talk a little first — I’ve a question to ask,” he 
pleaded. “Well, what is it my love?” and fixing 
his large eyes on my face, he said in calm, measured 
tones, “Auntie, do you suppose I can ever go 
through college? Chatterton’b favorite expres¬ 
sion was, that ‘God has sent his creatures into the 
world with arms long enough to reach anything, if 
they choose to he atthe trouble;' are the words true?” 
“ Chattektok, my darling, is not a safe pattern, 
he deified intellect; he owned not the power of 
grace over the heart, and never confided in Goo’s 
love and wisdom. Had it been otherwise, the mar¬ 
velous hoy might have become the perfect man, and 
instead of dying of sorrow and madness at nineteen, 
history would have written him the happy poet and 
filled their hands 
is transaction nnmber two. Number three is as 
plea a antto remember. T sold a lot of goods, almost 
a vear nnt of date, to a young country merchant, for 
cash. He Ihinks he has a bargain; and perhaps be 
has; but 1 would bare let them go at any time during 
the past six mouths at a loss of thirty per cent., and 
thought the sale a desirable oxe. 
“ Now, there is my good day s work, Jenny, and 
it is one to be proud of. I take "some credit to myself 
for being, np*n the whole, a pretty bright sort of a 
man, and bound to go throngh. Let us have your 
The 11 face of Mi*r. Barlow flushed slightly. Her 
husband waited for a few moments, and then said: 
“Let as hear of the yards of stitching, and the 
piles of pood things made—” 
o Xo—nothing of that,” answered Mrs. Barlow, 
with a slight vail of feeling covering her pleasant 
and the children every morning 
with sweetest flowers to put upon her table. 
We still wore mourning. It bad been our purpose 
to remove it the year before; but one morning in 
rosy June, when we were talking about 6nmmer 
dresses of soft, cheerful hues, a letter was handed me 
written by an unknown pen. It said that a new 
grave had been made in the far-off West, on the 
Pacific shore, and a young stranger slept therein to 
waken no more till the morning of the resurrection. 
Though a score of years has since gone by, deepening 
the imprints of care, and thought, and feeling, on 
my forehead, flecking my hair with silver, giving i 
birth to other hopes and other joys; yet 1 still wear 
black, unless it be sometimes when I go outto socials 
or to the minister’s for a tea-drinking, when Phii.if, 
"that child," will say, “Come, Auntie, please wear 
your striped silk, and that pretty head dress, you 
look so young in them;” and to please the boy I pul 
them on; though you may think, old woman and old 
maid as 1 am, that it is for the latter words instead. 
With the reading of that letter came a darkness 
that no language can express. The rooms of my 
heart had not a ray of light only as the faint glim¬ 
merings of immortal hope strayed through them; yet 
I was willing to live few or many years in sorrow and 
alone, if thereby my mission might be fulfilled. 
Alice at the time was twenty-two. For her, my 
noble, iny beautiful sister, I thought that life had 
some bright crown—some precious gifts. 
An artist from an eastern city had been in our 
village for months, and his visits at our home were 
becoming very frequent, f’mur Elbriuub Cory DON 
was a man who stood high in IiIh profession. Accus¬ 
tomed to the best circles of society, no wonder he 
could sway and fascinate with such resistless power 
in our midst. His language and manners were ele¬ 
gant; bis character, bo far as we saw or could judge, 
was bright and symmetrical; and when he turned 
from the flatteries and admlrings of the rich, and 
knelt with his dower of gifts at the heart of Alice, 
repeating in fervid tones the old scripture phrase — 
“ Loves t thou me?'- how could the spell-bound girl 
reply other than from the same text—“ Thou knouiest 
i thee !"—even though a Bhadow from the 
The Rural, on Trial, at only Half Price! 
Itv HORATIO ALGER, *IR- 
Mv Charlie ha* gone to the war, 
My Charlie so brave and tall; 
He left his plow in the farrow 
And flew at his country’s call. 
May God in safety keep him, 
My precious boy — my all. 
My heart is pining to see him, 
I miss him every day; 
My heart is weary with waiting, 
And sick of the long delay. 
But I know bis country need* him, 
And I could not hid him stay 
I remember bow hia face (lushed 
And how his color came, 
When the Hash from the guns of Sumter 
Lit the whole land with (lame, 
And darkened our country’s banner 
With the crimson hue of Bhaine. 
“ Mother,” he ridd, then faltered — 
I felt hi* mute appeal; 
I paused — if you are a mother 
You know what mothers feel, 
When called to yield their dear one* 
To the cruel bullet and steel. 
My heart stood still for a moment, 
Struck with a mighty woe; 
A faint of death came o’er me — 
1 am a mother, you know — 
But! sternly checked my weakness, 
And firmly bade him “Go.” 
Wherever the fight is fiercest 
1 know that my boy will be; 
Wherever the need is sorest 
Of the stout arms of the free, 
May he prove as true to his country 
As he ha* been true to me! 
My home is loDriy without him, 
My heart bereft of joy — 
The thought of him who ha* left me 
My constant *ad employ; 
But God has been good to the mother, 
She shall not blush for her boy. 
“Auntie, what would have pleased my mother 
best?” said PsiiLir, after a little pause. 
“ That you Bhould become a good man. 
“And my father?” 
“The same,” I added, though with Borne hesita¬ 
tion. Then 1 told him more of hie parents than he 
bad before known,— of my own family,—of the grave 
beside the Pacific waters, — designing to teach him 
thereby that all things earthly are unsatisfying and 
insecure,—that only the hopes anchoring within the 
vail are worth the tireless pursuit of our lives. 
Alice, his mother, was very fond of literature. 
Often when I was busied with making or mending, 
she would read to me from the histories and thoughts 
of the gifted, and I had observed this,—that men and 
women of genius reach by paths of wondrous sober¬ 
ing the heights from which we view them, that 
their sorrows outnumber and outweigh their joys, 
that their heart-throbs are oftener horn of grief than 
gladness. Yet, 1 dared not dissuade the boy— dared 
<* a. bargain is a bargain. Jenny,” said Mr. Barlow. 
“Word-keeping is a cardinal virtue. So let your , 
story be told. Yon have done a good day’s work in 
your own estimation, for yon said so. Go on. I am 
all attention.” „ ..... 
Mrs. Barlow still hesitated. But after a little more 
nreiner, she began her story of a good day’s work. 
Her voice was a little subdued, and there was an 
evident shrinking from the subject about which she 
felt constrained to speak. 
“I resolved last, night.” said she, “after passing 
srnnp hours of self-examination and self-opbraidings, 
that I would, for one day, try to possess my soul in 
patience. And this day has been the trial-day. - hall 
I go on?” .. , 
Mrs. Barlow looked up with a timid, half-bashfui 
air at her husband. She did not meet his eyes, for 
he had turned them partly away. 
ii dear Jenny’, goon.” The husband’s buoyancy 
of tone was gone." lb it* place was something tender 
and pensive. 
“Little Kddy was unusually fretful this morning, 
as you will remember. Ho seemed 1 perverse, T 
thought—cross, as we call it. I was tempted to 
speak harshly two or three times; but, remembering 
my good resolution, 1 put on the armor of patience, 
and never let him hear a tone of ruy voice that was 
not a loving tone. Dear little fellow! When f went, 
to wash him, after breakfast, I found just behind one 
of his cars a small, inflamed boil. It. haB made him 
slightly feverish and worrysome all day. Oh, wasn t 
l glad that patience had ruled my spirit! 
" After yon went away to the store, Mary got into 
one of her had humors. She didn’t want to goto 
school, to begin with; then she couldn’t find her 
slate; and then her shoe pinched her. I felt very 
much annoyed; but, recalling my good resolution, 
I met her irritation with calmness, her wilfulness 
with patient admonition, her stubborn temper with 
gentle rebuke; and so I conquered. Rhe kissed me, 
and started for Bcbool with a cheerful countenance, 
her slate in her satchel, and the pinching shoe un¬ 
heeded. And so I had my reward. 
“ But my trials were not over. Rome c-xtra wash¬ 
ing was needed. Ro I called Ellen, and told her that 
nent subscribers. As the times are improving, ana 
the long evenings and period of leisnre are coming 
on apace, we trust the agents and other friends of 
the Rural will kindly aid in extending its circula¬ 
tion and benefits. Almost any reader so disposed, 
can obtain from 4 to 20 trial subscribers with com¬ 
paratively little effort —thus not only benefiting 
individuals and community, but contributing to 
the future prosperity and usefulness of the paper. 
Friends of the Rural and its Objects! will yon not 
make some effort in the right direction—to further 
the circulation of the favorite Rural Weekly, and 
render its Fall ('umpaign successful? And will not 
all other friends of Improvement and a Pure and 
Instructive Literature, who read this, kindly lend a 
portion of influence in behalf of the enterprise? 
elevate and sustain him in high positions. Added to 
these was a mastering ambition,— a will-power that 
would subjugate every hindrance in an upward path. 
The breathings of bis spirit upon Philip's were a 
mighty Influence. Now hopes were born in the boy's 
soul, whose pinions were strong and tireless; beat¬ 
ing through the bars of present circumstances, they 
would lilt away on and on into a future as grand as 
the pencil of youthful prophecy could portray. “0, 
Auntie,” he would sometimes say, “ I shall one day 
go out and take part in the great life beyond our 
little village.” 
It was the day George Wilton was to graduate. A 
good many of our acquaintances were going down to 
the City to attend Commencement, for George was a 
great favorite with all his father’s people. The min¬ 
ister invited Phil, and me to join their company, 
which we did. 
Corinthian Hall was crowded to overflowing. In 
the throng sat men whose lives were crowned and 
clustered with the noblest fruitage, — men of middle 
age, who had turned away from the din of life to sit 
for a while in the windows of their lives which 
looked to the eastward. There were women of beauty 
and goodness, merry and blithesome maidens and 
graceful girls, fair as lilies that float upon the bosoms 
of sunny ink ’ orations were remarkable, but 
that of George was conoeded to be the most finished 
Boston Transcript 
Daring the tenth month of their acquaintance they 
were married. I looked upon my brother-in-law with 
great pride, but with a nameless, unspoken fear. 
After a tour of Borne weeks they returned—Mr. 
Cokvdon renewing his professional duties, and 
Alice, in his society and freedom from the arduous 
labors of the past, seemed supremely happy. 
We were sitting in the parlor at twilight one 
evening, when Billy Webr, our little neighbor and 
errand boy, came in with Mr. Corydon’s mail. I 
noticed a startling expression of countenance as his 
eye rested lor a moment upon one of the letters, 
did not observe it, for as he went torvrard 
the superscriptions, 
Elrkidgb, dear, till I 
&Ue i^ubtisto to the gnbtir 
ry ANT person so disposed can act a* local agent for the 
Rural Nkw-Yorkkk, and those who yolnnteor in the good 
cause will receive gratuities, and their kindness be appreciated 
rr- No Traveling Agents arc employed by us, a* we wish 
to give the whole field to local agent* and those who form clubs. 
And boride, we wish it distinctly understood that all persons 
traveling through the country, professing to hold certificates 
firm) ns, ARE IMPOSTORS. 
|-£r- To Clergymen.—I n answer to inquiries we would state 
that the Rural is sent to Clergymen at the lowest club rate ($b- 
2fi per year.) The Clergy are nmong the wannest friends of the 
paper Many are kindly using their influence in it* behalf, and 
very successful in their effort* to increase it* circulation. 
t'2?* Tun ltriiAi. is published strictly upon the cash system 
— copie* are never mailed to individual subscribers until paid 
for. and always discontinued when the subscription empires. 
Hence, we force the paper upon none, and keep no credit books, 
i-xjioricnce having demonstrated that the Cwh System i* alto¬ 
gether the best for both Subscriber abd Publisher. 
g-j*- Western and Southern Money —In the present de¬ 
ranged state of the currency, we are unable to use Western and 
Southern money, aa our bankers will not purchase it at any 
rate of discount. Agents and Subscribers who cannot obtain 
Now York, New England, Penn*yIvania, ot Canada Money, will 
please send us U S. Postage Stamps, as they arc far preferable 
to any uncurrent bank bill* 
f-we-TiiK Documents Free. — Specimen numbers of this 
[Written for Moore's RuraJ New-Yorker.] 
BY MARY J. CR08MAN. 
Life is a myBtcry, a mingling together of the 
known and the unknown, the real and the ideal, the 
beautiful, the terrible, and the stern —a wondrous 
melody wherein low rhythms of magic sweetness aDd 
delicate minor notes of thrilling patboB blend and 
alternate with the deep bass which is sometimes 
rough, sometimes jarring. 
It gave our village such a shock when the rumor 
passed from lip to lip that Esq. Jones had failed he, 
whom the school children Baid had “oceans of 
money,” and whoso name the humble folk regarded 
a,* the synonym of gold. Many ol the poorer class 
had placed their hard earned dollars in his keeping, 
and among them wub my father. True, the sum was 
small—only two hundred and fifty dollars—hut it 
Alice 
the window to look ove 
she said, “wait a moment, 
n iU1 d by the time she had returned, 
He could control 
onderfully, and all through the evening 
unusually talkative, jesting in playful badinage ! 
with Alice, and in bis arch way repeating graceful 
compliments aDd tender words. I knew there was 
a warfare in his soul.-that his mirth was counter¬ 
feited,—know it as well as when the next day he said 
that he must leave on the afternoon train to meet an 
artist-friend in Boston, who had unexpectedly 
returned from Europe. 
That was the last time we ever saw Philip Cory* 
don. Alice received three letters from him after¬ 
ward, which 1 read, lie pleaded business engage¬ 
ments which were imperious, and making it neces¬ 
sary for him to he absent from the United States a 
year. His professions of love 1 knew were sincere. 
Alice held a place in his heart that no other woman 
had ever Occupied; hut early sins had poisoned the 
well-spring of hiB life, and tangled the weaver’s rich 
and silken web. “ How great a thing it is to he a 
vwnl" My Christian sister had been in the furnace 
of trial before, but now it was “seven times hotter 
than it was wont to be heated.” I write the words 
with reverent joy, that she walked not alone; there 
was One beside her like in form onto the Son of Gon, 
light the lamps, 
his manner was the same as usual 
himself w 
was 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 20 letters. 
My 8, 14, 13, 9 i* a sea in Independent I 
My 9,12,11,19 i* a riverln the Rusaiat 
My 9, 10, 19, 11, 16, 5 is a city in Africa. 
My 8,17,11, 6 is a river in Italy. 
My 7, 3,18 is a river in Scotland. 
My 16, 4, 18, 17 is a branch of the Elba 
My 1,19, 17. 11 is a branch of the Garo 
It was after the burial. The orphan babe was 
Bleeping, wrapped in the delicate garments upon 
which his mother had wrought through the long 
summer hours. To me had been delegated the re¬ 
sponsibility of directing a human life. I knelt and 
prayed as did Solomon, “Great God, give wisdom P' 
It was granted; through the succeeding years, my 
great love for the hoy did not hinder the administering 
of reproof and discipline, though often given amid 
tears. 
Very proud was I when he lisped his first word, 
“ Auntie," which 1 had been for weeks teaching him, 
as was I all through his childhood from hearing the 
commendations he would receive at school and Sab¬ 
bath school. 
Philip Elbridge, (the name his mother called him 
by,) was very unlike other children of his age. 
Sometimes I thought him a marvel of maturity and 
precocity. His esthetic, nature developed finely, 
and though he was passionately fond of the paint¬ 
ings and portraits hiB father had executed, yet he 
was very far from becoming an artist. His soul had 
other and higher riches; the voices that called to 
him were from men of mighty purposes — men upon 
mountain heights, who away into paths of their own 
marking the multitude beneath them. 
I remember one day when Philip was in his thir¬ 
teenth summer, as I sat in the dining room, about to 
look over some plums for preserving, which the 
Doctor’s wife had sent me, he laid his head in my 
lap, saying, “ Now, Auntie, please magnetise me, my 
temples throb so hard.” As I brushed back the.dry 
curls from his forehead, he told me that all throngh 
the night he could hardly sleep for the bright hopes 
and visions that thronged about him. He repeated 
them, and it cave my heart a new unrest. Partly to 
hit first, in kitchen, parlor, ball, 
Ls faithful aye to duty; 
Yet ever in the view of all 
Has far more nse than beauty. 
Yet judge not rashly, nor contemn 
My name, my birth, or glory; 
A noble peer of .England's realm 
I'm proudly known in story. 
My second, in enforcing laws 
For litUe rogueB, i* clever, 
While old rogues cut their creditors, 
And then cut me forever. 
Poor hen pecked husbands rue my whole, 
When testy Games grow sour; 
Not Xantippe’s tongue, nor Caudle’s soul, 
Has half my dreaded power. 
£3r” Answer in two weeks. 
It is Paid For I—As our terms are cash in advance, those 
who receive the Rural without having subscribed for it, a-' 1 
please understand that some one has kindly “ assumed the 
responsibility. •’ Such is the fact in regard to the copy con¬ 
cerning which we have just received thi* note from Chili- 
cothe, Ohio:—’I have for some time been the recipient o. 
your valuable paper, and its weekly appearance iB looked tor 
with great interest by my wife and self—she for the lutere.-t 
ing domestic matter contained therein, and I for the decide 
stand you take on the - E Pluribus Ununi ' question. 1 thm* 
you give evidence of being 'all right. But, my dear sir, to 
whom am I indebted for this privilege, or am 1 reading your 
paper without compensation? If so, write me, and I 
4 fork over. ’ I desire a continuance of it as long as you furm- 
us with such recipes, Xc., and are sound on the Union-tor ’ 
sentiments like yours were promulgated iu our papers g*n 
erally, ‘ secesh' would not receive much sympathy.” 
A. GOOD DAY’S WORK 
“I’ve done one good day’s work, if I nevei do 
another,” said Mr. Barlow, rnhbing his hands together 
briskly, and with the air of a man who felt very 
much pleased with himself. ... 
“And so have 1.” Mrs. Barlow’s voice was in a 
lower tone, and less exultant, yet indicative of a 
spirit at peace with itself. „ _ , . . 
“Let us compare uotes,” said Mr. Barlow, in the 
confident manner of one who knows that triumph 
will be on his side, “and see which has done the 
best day's work.” . 
“ You of course.” returned the gentle-hearted wile. 
“We shall see. Let the history of your day’s 
doings precede mine.” , , 
“No,” said Mrs. Barlow, "yon shall give the first 
Very well.” And, full of his subject, Mr. Barlow 
b6 “ Yon remember the debt of Warfield, about which My seventh is a verb. 
I spoke a few days ago?” 
“I considered it desperate—would have sold out jgf* Answer in two weeks. 
mv interest at thirty cents on the dollar when I left -. — 
home this morning. Now the whole claim is secure. TO en -tgMAS 
I had to scheme a little. It was sharp practice. But ANSWEE8 TO hMiUMAi 
the thine is done. I don't believe that another 
creditor of Warfield will get a third of his claim. Answer to Geographical Enigma. 
“The next operation,” continued Mr. Barlow, “I Dictionary, 
consider quite as good. About a year ago I took Answer to Bouquet of Flowers: — 
fifty acres of land in Erie county, for debt, at a 3a gye-hright; 4th, Flower- 
valuation of five dollars an acre. 1 said i t^-day.or turnip . 6til lark spur; 7th, Four 
ten. I don’t think the man knew just what he was pride-of-Oltfo; 10th. Rose-Mary 
S?<5i # r* He auS 2 Answer to Mathematical Problem 
i„£i a ...t, n"~ hundred dollars to bind the bargain. Answer to Charade: - Cn notine 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
MOORE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THE LARGEST CIRCULATED 
agricultural, literary a> t d family weekly, 
18 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 
BY D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N- Y. 
Subscription —Two Dollars a \kar. 
Agents as follows.—Three Copies one yew, for $5; Six, ao one 
free to club agent, for $10; Ten. and one tree, tor$l<S, ’ 
and one tree, for $21; Twenty, and one free, for*-), • 
greater number at same rate —only $1-2° I' er y ’. r i b 
extra free copy for every Ten Subscriber* over t 
papers directed to individuals and sect to ma y 
Post-Offices a* desired. As we pre-pay American po. S 
papers sent to the British Provinces, our Canadian 
friends must add Decent* per copy to the club rates of the 
i>iv®. r tlm ifitt'nat nriftfl of copies BCut to Europe, * 
