Mrtisftn* tu tltc public 
THE B ATTLE AUTUMN OP 1862 
felling me! All my long voyage I have thought of 
ihe light in her little window. 1 have seemed to see 
it, streaming along, along down to the foot of the 
hill, fill it grew brighter and brighter as I drew 
nearer. A light in the window of heaven? Yes, 
mother, 1 will think you are still waiting tor me. 1 
could not see you in these long years; but I knew 
the light was 
BT J. G WUITTIEB. 
Tint flags of war like storm birds ftj, 
The charging trumpets blow ; 
Vet rolls no thunder in the sky, 
No earthquake strives below. 
And, calm and patient, Nature keeps 
Her ancient promise well, 
Though o'er her bloom and greenness sweep* 
The battle’s breath of hell. 
And still she walks in golden hours 
Through harvest happy farms, 
And still she wears her fruits and fl«we»s 
Like jewels on her arms. 
What mean the gladness of the plain, 
This joy of eve and morn, 
The mirth that shake* the !>eard of grain 
And yellow locks of corn T 
Ah I eyes may well he lull of team, 
And hearts with hate arc hot; 
Bot even-paced come round the years, 
And Nature changes not. 
gbe meets with smiles our bitter grief, 
With songs our groans of pain ; 
She mocks with tint of flour and leaf 
The w ar field's crimson stain. 
Still, in the cannon's pause we hear 
Her sweet thanksgiving psalm ; 
Too near to God for doubt or fear, 
She shares the eternal calm. 
She knows the seed lies safe below 
The fires that blast and burn ; 
For all the tears of blood we sow 
She waits the’rich Tctum. 
She sees with clearer eye than oure 
The good ol‘ suffering bom,— 
The hearts that blossom like her flowers 
And ripen like her corn. 
Oh, give to us In times like thesg, 
The vision of her eyes; 
And make her fields and fruited trees 
Our golden prophecies I 
Oh, give to us her finer car 1 
Above this stormy din, 
We, too, would hear the belts of cheer 
Bing pence and freedom iu I 
RECRUITS WANTED FOR THE RURAL BRIGADE 
Thu Last Quarter of Vol. XIII of the Rural New-Yorker 
commenced last week —with October, As a large number 
of subscriptions expire this week, (nil which have No. 663 
prinled after their address,) we would remind those interested 
that a prompt renewal is necessary to secure the unintew 
nipted continuance of the paper. We hope they, and then- 
sands of would-be subscribers, will avail themselves of the 
favorable opportunity now presented to renew or subscribe. 
Single. Club and Trial Subscriptions ar# now in order and 
respectfully solicited. 
hut I knew 
bnrning. 1 cannot see you now, but I 
know lhat the light, is burning/’ 
Slowly and reverently be went, to the hillside 
grave yard, and there he knelt and wept upon her 
lowly grave. But nut there he thought her. A 
sweet vision was vouchsafed him. All robed in 
heavenly garments, he saw the beautiful soul he had 
called mother, and streaming from the brightness of 
her glorious home, a slender beam seemed to come, 
trembling to bis feet, Theu be knew that the light 
was placed in the window of heaven. 
Once more he knelt in the little room where he 
had left her. Nothing was moved, but oh! how 
much was wanting! There on the window-sill stood 
the little lamp —that brought Ibe tears afresh. But 
be took hie mother's well-worn Bible, and kneeliDg 
by her bedside, as if she could hear him, he conse¬ 
crated himself to a life atid work ot righteousness. 
From that cottage he went out into the world, car¬ 
rying his grief as a sacred memorial, but seeing 
always, wherever his work led him, his waiting 
mother, and the lamp in the window of heaven. 
seen what springs of courage and powers of self- 
sacrifice there arc in my nature.” The noble words 
had a fitting emphasis in the sweet smile—in the 
steadfast, dauntless tones. 
“But we shall have to give up the house, Mary.” 
“Well, we can feel just as happy iu a smaller one. 
Our love has bad a broader foundation than stately 
roomB and costly furniture. We'll take a cozy little 
cottage somewhere in the country, and for three 
servants get along with one.” 
Hearing those words, John Malcolm looked at his 
wife; hut be did not say then what was in his heart 
—a thanksgiving to God lor the angel He had sent 
to walk with him. ILo took her hand and held it 
close in his. while he told her of a temptation which 
had beHet him before the failure of his house became 
certain—a temptation by yielding to which he could 
have saved himself from failure. But it must have 
been by dishonest means, by taking advantage of 
others in his power—in short, by a fraud, which, 
though man's laws never could reach, God's did, 
with that eternal “Do unto others as ye would they 
should do unto you.” 
“0, thank God! thank God you were delivered 
from this evil! 1 bad rather you should go down to 
happy smile was in no ways abated. 
•• Mv boy. bow could you come on such a night?” 
exclaimed the widow. 
“Why, mother, etorm couldn’t keep me from you,” 
was bis hearty response. “ I've bad the greatest 
time, though, you ever did see—lost my way. got 
into the creek, and it must be midnight; but 1 
meant to come, for S. gave me a trifle over to-niglit, 
and 1 knew you needed it” 
“My dear boyl” sprung from the mother's full 
heart, with a tear or two that trickled down her 
pale cheeks. 
“I wonder I haven't thought of it before,” sbe 
said, musingly. “After thi3, 111 put a light in the 
window. To be sure, it won’t show far; but when 
you get to the top of the hill, it will be pleasant to 
see it. and know that I am watching for you.” 
For three years the lamp was placed iu the little 
window every night. People often remarked, “ as 
bright as Mother Locke's little window,” and it 
became a favorite saying with the neighborhood. 
At the end of that time, young Henry was offered 
a good chance on board a whaling vessel, and he 
resolved to accept it It cost him, do one knew 
what a struggle, to part from the being he loved 
with an almost worshiped affection- But he knew 
the time bad come when he must go forth into the 
world to do battle for himself and for her; and a 
sailor’s life was his coveted calling. 
“ It seems to me, Henry,” said the mother, when, 
with a trembling lip, she parted from him, “as if 1 
must still put a light in the little window. I shall 
think sometimes that I hear the sound of your foot¬ 
steps, the click ol the latch, and your pleasant voice. 
0, Henry, llenry, if I could but light you over the 
stormy waters!” 
The long voyage was euded—but another voyage 
was to end before that. 
A REQUEST, AND WHEREFORE. 
We ask its friends all over the land to aid in «irculating the 
Rural’8 Campaign Quarter. Almost any one can readily 
obtain from 4 to 20 subscribers. “ Where there’s a uriU 
there's a way,” and have not Its friends in the East and West, 
North and South, the will to extend the circulation and use¬ 
fulness of the favorite Rural Weekly of America? Who 
will aid in recruiting' for the Rcral Bhioauk? 
looking fellows in the world. Gds would think that 
every man of them had washed himself, clothes and 
all, in the puddle water of the “lagt ditch." 
It is stated of a prominent officer, in a late battle, 
that, in the very crisis of the affairs of bis division, 
he was leisurely discussing a beefsteak. The ex¬ 
istence of his division was at stake, and so was he. 
Let some rich lady make a magnificent contribu¬ 
tion to one of our brigades, if she would like to be 
a brigade-dear. 
The rebel forces made an incursion into Mary¬ 
land to get something to eat. And McClellan has 
given them a belly fulL 
A few days since, “Maryland, my Maryland,” 
was the most popular tune in Lee and Jackson’s 
army. Now it is, “ Carry me back to Ole Yirginny.” 
John Morgan took with him from Kentucky the 
best horses and the meanest men ho could find in 
the State. 
Some men give great delight when they die, and 
soma Congresses when they adjourn. 
SntcrnF. is a crime, but it would be a less crime 
in Jeff. Davis than almost any other man in the 
country. 
“ Mr. Brown, I owe you a grudge, remember!” 
“I shall not he frightened, then, for I never knew 
yon to pay anything you owed.” 
THE BANKRUPT HUSBAND, 
The widow Locke was 
tuken ill. Vet with unlading regularity, with feeble 
step and trembling hand, nightly, the dear woman 
trimmed the little lamp nud placed it in the window. 
Still, when the bended form could no longer totter 
about the cottage, when she lay helpless upon the 
bed, and the neighbors came iu to care for her, she 
would suy. “Put the little lamp in the window; my 
Heury will be thinking ot it.” 
Night after night, and ever until her eyes grew 
dim, she would watch the radiance of the. flickering 
light, only saying sometimes, “Shall I live to hear 
his foot*tups? Will that feeble flame still burn when 
my life's light lias gone out!” 
“I have longed to see him,” she said; “I have 
prayed earnesUy, but I have given it all up now. I 
shall not meet him in this world.” 
“Have you put the light in the window?” she 
asked suddenly, a few moments after. “ It is grow¬ 
ing dark.” 
Alas! it was not the light that was growing dark. 
Iler hands grew cold. Over her countenance 
came that mysterious shadow that falls but once on 
any mortal face. 
“Oh! my boy! my boy!” she whispered; “tell 
him,”—they bent lower to catch her failing words— 
“ tell him I will put a light in the window of heaven 
to guide bis footsteps there” 
The thrilling sentence was hardly spoken, when 
the shadow dropped from the sufferer’s lace, and it 
smiled in the calm majesty of death. A funeral fol¬ 
lowed, humble hearts attended the body of one who 
was lovod for her sincere goodness all through the 
hamlet; and on the hillside, in a little grave yard, 
she was buried. 
Not many days afler a great ship came into the 
port of a busy city. Among all those who stepped 
from the decks, none were more hopeful, more joy¬ 
ful than young Henry Locke. He bad passed 
through the ordeal of life at sea, so far unscathed. 
No blight of immorality had fallen upon him. He 
had kept himself as spotless as il at every nightfall 
his feet had been turned towards the door of his 
mother’s cottage. How his heart bounded as he 
though tot her! Strangely enough he never dreamed 
she might be dead. Il did not occur to him that per¬ 
haps her silver locks were lying under the lid of the 
cottin. Ob, no; he only thought of the pleasant 
light, in the window, that her hands had trimmed 
for him. So he journeyed to hia native town. 
Yonder comes one who trudges on laggingly—a 
farmer in heavy boots and frock, his whip in his 
hand. He cheers the lazy oxen, but suddenly stops, 
amazed. 
“ I see you know me,” said the young sailor, smil¬ 
ing. “ Well, Farmer Brown, how is-?” 
“Know you? why how tall you arel So,”—his 
eye drops, his mouth trembles,—“so you’ve got 
CLOVER THRASHER AND HOLLER, 
Patented. May IS Ui, 1858; Dec. 13th. 1859; April m, 1802: <md 
May 13th, 1862. 
MANUKACTCREO by 
I3ii*clj«ell Brokaw, 
Wit Henrietta, Monroe CoJiT, I'. 
This machine operates in Clover thrashing similar to Grain 
Separators in wheat tlna-Uitig, tlOiliK all the work at one oi.er- 
ation, without re-bandling the cliulV. iu tlie hands of rood 
operators it will thrash, ior]!, and clehn ft-oin 10 to GO bushnf a 
ilav without waste ot Seed Tim undersigned are manufactur¬ 
ing Hie only machine patented thatthra.he*, hulls ami rltuii, 
all at the same operation. All uixcblhex that do the whole 
work not marked BIRosKU.’ti Paiom , are inlrinpemeiiL The 
public are hereby cautioned not to purcim-e throe that a ein- 
Irineejnentx of (said patent All oohirnuniciltiocr directed to 
the Hubrcritiefs, at West Henl’ietta, will bo promptly responded 
to. Order early if j »u wish a •iRchloe. . 
This Machine has always taken the I-list iTenuuni at State 
Fairs where allowed to C'lupete, and saves more than half tbo 
exrrense of tbe old wav of petting out clover eecd, In time and 
labor. BIRDS KILL k BROKAW, Manufacturers, 
662 eotf West Henrietta, Monroe Co.. If. Y. 
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND 
“It’ll have to go, Mary; there’s no help for iL” 
She looked up—the lady to whom these words 
were addressed—in a way which showed that they 
had struck and hurt her. She was scolloping a 
child’s skirt, and the needlework had followed her 
rapid fingers along tbo flannel like a line of snowy 
foam; hut now the work fell, unheeded, to the floor. 
“Ah, John, has it come to that?” asked Mary, the 
wife of John Malcolm; and the soil, bloom in her 
cheeks vanished away, and the words were spoken 
with a kind of gasp, as though just beneath them 
lay a migbly swell and rush ol feelings that well 
nigh overpowered her voice. 
“ Yes, Mary, it must come. God knows I’ve 
struggled as hard as man could to weather the 
storm, and I could have done it too, if those West¬ 
ern houses hadn't gone under. But they’ll carry us 
with it.” 
“ I can't realize it yet, John,” she said, looking at 
him in a half-bewildered, half-frightened way, that 
was pitiful to see; the shock, for the moment, had 
half-stunned her. 
“O, Mary, it was hardest for your sake!” and the 
words came in that sharp groan which is terrible to 
hear from tbe lips of a strong man. The tones 
roused her at once into a full consciousness of what 
had befallen them, and of the part she must bear 
in it 
“Don't John—don't take it so hard,” her voice 
struggling up through a sob into a note of brave 
cheerfulness, and her lips fashioning a smile, which, 
though weak at first, you felt certain would grow 
stronger all the time, just as you feel the sweet 
promise of the day when the first faint sunbeams 
struggle weakly out of the morning's mist. 
“I could have borne up, Mary, if it hadn't been 
for you and the children; hut that thought cut’s to 
the core—it's more than I can bear.” 
And for the first lime the young wife and mother 
heard a sob from the lips of her husband, as he 
bowed down on the arm of bis chair. The pride ol 
his manhood gave way at last, and John Malcolm 
wept like a little child. Then the woman’s heart, 
the. woman’s power to cheer, and comfort, and 
strenglben, roused themselves; the waves went 
over her but one moment, and then Mary Malcolm 
forgot herself and rose up to the height of her true 
womanhood—to the exaltation of self-sacrifice. 
“John,” said the soft, brave voice, “don’t ever 
say that again. Let every thing else fail, the heart 
of your wife never will.” 
[Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker.] 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
qiKCE CHAMPION. 
Hickok’s Patent Portable Keystone 
CIDER AND WINE MILL. 
10,000 in use and approved. 
This admirable machine is now ready for the fruit harvest ol 
1862. It is, if passible, better than before, snU w«ll 
worthy the attention of all farmers wanting finch machine!}. 
It ha* no flupeiior in the market, ami ih the Omv nil 11 thM 
■will properly grind Grapes. For hhIo by all respectable dealers. 
If your mercliaut does not keep them,tell him to send for one 
for you. or write to the manutacturer yourself. 
Address the manufacturer. 1654-.it—MMt 
tv. O. UICKOK, Eagle Works, Harrisburg. Pa 
I am composed of 73 letters. 
My 12, 38, 10,12 is a county in New York. 
My 3, 4, 5, 60, 48, 5 is a city in England. 
My 2, 9, 14, 32, 34, 32, 5,29 is an island in the Atlantic Ocean. 
My 10, 1$, 17, 10, 6, 24, 10, 66 is one of the United States. 
My 41, 38. 1, 6, 20, 60, 10, 5 is a county in N. Y. 
My 6S, 71. 64, 68, 40, 64, 37 is a sea in Europe. 
My 36, 46, 68, 6, 46 is a river in Europe. 
My 6, 33, 24, 44, 61, 63, 30, 39, 12, 72 is a county in N. Y. 
My 45, 21, 69, 66, 44. 68, 45 is a city in Missouri. 
My 70, 63, 6, 6, 36. 28, 16, 62. 7, 6, 68, 69 is one of the U. S. 
My 8, 31. 32, 60, 32, 6 is a town in N. Y. 
My 05, 54, 35, 6. 22, 26 is an Empire in Europe. 
My .18, 68, 6, 22, 43, 17, 5 is a county in Maine. 
My 51, 23, 40. 25, 13 is an island in the Pacific Ocean. 
My 50, 61, 73, 61. 23, 5S, 73 is a city in Michigan. 
My 57. 26. 20, 21, 22, 42, 12. 20, 21, 26, 72 is a county in N. Y. 
My 47, 66, 59, 60, 19, 5, 30 is a Kingdom in Europe. 
My 65, 53, 10, 0, 32, is one of the U. 3. 
My 11, 26, 50, 10, 39, 63, 67, 27,1, 5, 26,15, S is a sea in Eu¬ 
rope. 
My 02, 1, 55, 68, 3, 21, 4, 6 is a county in N. Y. 
My whole is a motto which I think al! the readers of the 
culinary department of the Rural will endorse. 
West Bloomfield, N. Y , 1862. Nellie S. Whiting. 
JQy" Answer in two weeks. 
and Family Newspaper in America Business Men who wish to 
reach, at ones, tens up tbousanoh of the most enterprising 
Fanners, Horticulturists, &C., and thousands of MordnmW. 
Mechanics, Manuiacturem and Professional Men. ttirmiKlomt 
the loyal States, should give the Rural a trial. As the bnslneaa 
season is at hand. Now is Tim Tuns Cor all who wish to adver¬ 
tise widely and profitably, to select the best- iktdiUfns— and that 
the above is first of its clans, many prominent Manufacturers, 
Nurserymen, .Seedsmen. Dealers in Agricultural Implements, 
Machinery, Ac., Wholesale Merchants, Educational Institutions, 
Publishers. Land and Insurance Companies, Agencies, Ac., 
iu various parts of the country, can attest. 
| Prow. Ihe New York Daily World, Pel- IS, 1SS2- ’ 
Moorks Rural S'kw ■ Yorker oorues to us freighted with 
its usual amount or information, valuable, not to farmers alone, 
but to all who take an lute rest in the improvement* oi tte 
times Fob year# it has maintained an enviable position Mi 
family newspaper, and we are gratified to learn tied i u qroe- 
pects were never better than they are at the present time '-e 
commend it to the uolk-e of threw of our readers who an 
interest iu agricultural and horticultural matters, and, we n.sy 
add, to Mlveriih.i:- who destre to reach the farming comm lai¬ 
ties throughout the country. 
[FYom the Nat) York Daily Times.] 
Moork’S Rural New Yorkkk. published at Rochester, h*s» 
verv large circulation, especially among the agriculluisl popu- 
latkm or thVNorthern, Western, and Middle Stales, and ode™ a 
very excellent medium for advertiriaif to bpsines.- men of tnw 
city who de-ire to reach those sections It is an able yd 
well-man aged paper, And detserve* the it hiu* at-auToo- 
[Pram the New York Daily Tribune. ] 
Wh don’t care what a publisher charges, so that he gives ca 
the worth of om money. Mr. Mookk charges » cent. aUne, 
and bis circulation maker it cheap advertising. We don! ItHOW 
the circulation of the Rural Nkw-Yokkkb, but we know that 
it pays us to advertise in ft. 
For Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 19 letters. 
My 1, 4, 8,16, is the ancient name of one of the five powers 
of Europe. 
My 2, 5, 15, is a numeral. 
My 3, 11. 6, 12, 15, was an Italian poet. 
My 4, 16, 17,19, 6,13,18, wus the possessor of a magical lu¬ 
minary. 
My 5, 13, 16, 15, is a river in Africa. 
My 6, 15, 4, 5, is a Church official. 
My 7,16, 3, might have been applied to Methuselah. 
My 9, 2, 1G, 16, 13,10, was a Roman Historian. 
My 10, 13, 18, 4, is one of the characters in Dred. 
My 14. 4, 10, 3, 17, 1G, was one of the tribes that invaded 
Rome in the 6ih century. Ella A. Yoke. 
Answer in two weeks. 
THE WIDOW AND HER SON 
And now she bud come close to him, and he felt 
her small arms about his neck, and her head lay on 
his shoulder, as louder, as confiding as in their days 
of brightest prosperity. All through the day he 
had been looking forward to this hour, and shrink¬ 
ing away from it; and once or twice—God forgive 
him!—he had glanced out oi'bis office window to the 
river, which rolled its dark, sullen waters iu tbe 
distance, and a tierce temptation had rushed over 
him, to drop everything and hurry out there and 
bury all bis pain and anguish under the dark, 
crumpled sheet of water. But John, in his secret 
distress, knew that, this temptation was the voice of 
the devil entering into his soul; he was a mau who 
feared God and kept his commandments—he put the 
temptation aside. 
The young hushaud had not doubted his wife’s ! 
heart for a moment; but he expected to see her 
almost stricken to the earth, with the first tidings of 
the ruin of the house in which he was the heaviest 
partner. He knew that her youth had been nur¬ 
tured in all the grace and luxury that wealth con¬ 
fers. and he feared the thought of going out into the 
chill and darkness of poverty. He had not looked 
for loud lamentations, or hitter reproaches, but he 
dreaded the silent tears, tbe mute despair of ihe 
white face. 
So Jobu Malcolm raised his hot face, stained with 
the tears that were shed for her sake, and looked 
into the eyes of his wite; and sbe answered him 
with a smile that set even her face in a new sacred¬ 
ness and beauty to her husband’s eye—a smile so 
sweet and tender to him, so brave and defiant for 
the worst the world could do for them, that it said 
to him at once all that her words would, and could 
not 
“Ah, Mary, my wife,” said the merchant, “I 
thought when I came into my house, an hour ago, 
« Motiier, I will be everything to you that I can 
be; I promise yon that.” 
The boy lifted his head. A look of high resolve 
made the young brow manlike in expression. Not 
yet had ten summers deepened the gold on those 
lay locks. The earnest blue eyes looked fondly in 
the faded face that bent over him. There was a 
world of love in that soul—a love that was not only 
lip deep, but was proved by acts ol sell-denial. 
The words are beautiful enough to be repeated. 
Henry Locke smiled, because as he spoke there 
He had that morn- 
MOORE'S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
THK LARGEST CIRCULATED 
agricultural, literary and family weekly, 
IS PUBLISH HD KVKRV SATURDAY. 
BY ». D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Office, Cfiioa Buildings, Opposite the Court House, Buffalo Sheet. 
“ Your — mother,” he says, in a low, hesitating 
way, that telegraphs ill tidings before they are told 
in words. 
“Yes—is she well? Is she expecting me? Of 
course she is; we’re late by a month, full.” 
“Your mother, Henry? Well—the old lady,”— 
he plays with his whip, or rather strikes it hard on 
the dusty road. How can he crush that happy 
heart! 
“ There, you need not speak!” cried the young 
man, in a voice of sudden anguish; and he recoiled, 
almost staggering, from the farmer’s side, and buried 
his face in his hands. 
“ Henry, my poor lad, your mother ia —” 
“Don’t, don’t,” cried the other, showing now a 
face from which all color had fled. “ Oh! my mother! 
my mother!—she is gone, gone —and I am coming 
home so happy!” 
For some moments he sobbed in agony. How 
dreary the world had grown! The flowers had lost 
their tragrance, the sun its warmth; his heart seemed 
dead. 
“Henry, she left a message for yon,” said the old 
farmer, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his frock. 
“A message tor me?”—it seemed as il the white 
lips could hardly speak. 
“ Ycb; says she—so my dame told me, and so the 
minister Bal'd:— ‘Tell Henry I will put a light in 
the window of heaven to guide his footsteps there.” 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MECHANICAL PROBLEM. 
came tears io his mother’s eyes, 
ing been promised a place in a country store, five 
miles from the cot. or rather cabin, where they 
lived. It was of but a small pittance; but of late 
the mother had grown so leeble that she could earn 
nothing; could scarcely do the little that order and 
neatness called for at her hands. 
One dollar a week! It was a very little sum, but 
better, much better, than nothing. Besides Henry 
was to have bis meals with his employer, and could, 
if he chose, Bleep there. But he did choose. For a 
glad smile from mother; for the pressure of that, 
feeble hand; for the tender Christian words that 
came from those pale lips, he was bravely willing, 
after the day's hard work, to walk the five miles, 
dark and tedious though the way was. Often be 
TERMS IN ADVANCE: 
Two Dollars a Year—To Clubs and Agents ish follows,— 
Three Copied one year, for $5 ; Six, and one free to club agent, 
for $19 ; Ten, and one free, for $15; Fifteen, and one free, for 
Twenty, and one free, for $25 ; ami au.v greater uuinbei at same 
rate—only $LC 5 per copy. Club papers directed to individuals 
and sent to as many different Post-Officer a* deni red. An we Vte- 
pay American postage on papers sent to the British Provinces, 
our Canadian agents and friends must add 12cents per copy 
to the club rates of the Ri-kal. The lowest price of copies sent 
to Europe, Ac., is $2.50—including postage. 
Thk Cash System is strictly adhered to in publishing the 
Rural —copies are never mailed to individual subscriber.-i an 
paid for. and always discontinued when Che subrerivtum term 
entires. Hence, we force tlie paper upon none, and keep no 
credit bookB, long experience having demonstrated that w 
Cash Plan is the best for both Subscriber and Publisher. 
ty Thb Lbgal Rat* op Postaob on thk Rural Nkw- 
Yorkcr is only 3M cents per quarter to any part of this • > 
(except Monroe county, where it goes free,) and L.M cents any 
[Written for Moore's P.ural New-Yorker.] 
ANAGRAM. 
“ Nolg yam rou Inad eb tibhrg 
Twih fedroem's jlob bdgt, 
Eportet su yb hyt gimth, 
Gtear ogd—rou Knig.” 
Rock Hill, N. Y. 
Answer in two weeks. 
John Jones, 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Look forward to that 
sunny side. 
Answer to Decapitations :— Peel, Pax, Skate, Troy, Cat, 
Where, Whcu, Frock, Chub. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—117,666 miles : length 
of line, 77,148 miles. 
Answer to Anagrams of Mountains:—1, Schneekoppe; 
2, Fiuater Aarhorn ; S, Rhodope; 4, Olympus ; 5, Rotondo; 
6, Chang pe Shau. 
