S MPR1 
ray dear ones have gone home ? Oh, I cannot 
help it. I think my heart is brokc-n.” After a 
moment she added, “ Bek, I want but one thing 
in this world.” 
“And that one thing, Susie?” Bek said, as 
tenderly as if she were some little child. 
“To go,” said 8c?te, looking away into dis¬ 
tance, “ to that battle field. To see that grave. 
To remove his dust to Kose Harbor, where I 
have had the children buried.” 
“ Whenever you are ready to go,” said Bek, 
taking her hand softly in his, “let me know, 
and 1 will be at your service for the journey. 
Gladly, gladly.” 
“ Have you much business engaging your 
time now?” 
“ None that is pressing.” 
“For I wanted to go as soon as” —she 
hesitated. 
“How soon?” he asked. 
“ Oh, Bek, 1 wonld go to-morrow if I could,” 
6he cried. “ I have waited so long — so long! ” 
“ Could you be ready so soon ? ” 
“ I am ready this hour. I have been ready 
months. This dress which I wear is my travel¬ 
ing robe. My trunk is locked, and everything 
is in its place. My puree contains the necessary 
money, I can get my hat and cloak, and go 
with you in five minutes from the time you 
tell me yon are ready.” 
That moment there thrilled through Ben 
Manly for the first time in its full power, a 
clear comprehension of the time heart of this 
little woman—its sublime devotion—its absorb¬ 
ance in the love it held for Charley. Oh, had 
this but been for him! That hour he would 
have exchanged places with Charley Denni¬ 
son in his cold grave on the field of Chicka- 
manga, but to be held so close in this loving 
memory. 
“We will go to-morrow I ” he said, as he 
arose to leave her presence. 
On the morrow they left Washington, accom¬ 
panied by old C-esak. 
Written lor Moore's Rural New-Torker. 
“NEVER SAY DIE.” 
Is the largest, cheapest, and most 
BY JOHN MCINTOSH. 
INTERESTING NEWSPAPER EVER 
PUBLISHED. 
I wear an old hat. Eat then, what of that! 
My boots they are elderly too: 
If some had my coat, they'd set it afloat. 
And bid it forever adieu. 
The weather is cold, but my heart is bold; 
Let the frost do its biggest, say I; 
A smile from; sweet Hope thro’ the clouds will grope, 
And whisper me, "Never say die." 
Not a rood of laud I've got to my hand, 
Nor pretty wee cottage, so snug; 
But, to keep alive, I more than contrive— 
In fact, I'm "as snug as a bug.” 
Like the saint of vorc. T close to the door 
Of "my own hired bouse,” say I; 
And, whether or no. it will always be so. 
My motto is, “Never say die.” 
I welcome the poor to my enuggery, sure, 
When come to solicit u ehaj-e; 
And, for a dear friend, I hope to the end, 
To still have a shilling to spnrc. 
I work when I can, for woman, or man, 
But seldom save money, say I; 
There's always some thing for a dollar to bring, 
When habit says “Never say die." 
With a thankful love, to my God, above, 
Each morning and evening I pray; 
And bow with good grace to each friendly face, 
When passing along on my way. 
'Twill always be so as has been. I know, 
In fact, ’tie my nature, say I; 
And when I am dead, and my soul has fled, 
Some one will say, “Never say die.” 
Wyoming, N. Y., Jan. 8, I860. 
AS A FAMILY JOIRYAL 
It has no rival. It pays particular attention to 
Religious, Literary, Scientific, Musical, Theat¬ 
rical and Art Matters. 
IT HAS CORRESPONDENTS IN ALL THE 
EUROPEAN CAPITALS. 
GIVES TELEGRAPHIC NEW T S FROM ALL 
PARTS OF THE WORLD. 
PUBLISHES THE MOST RELIABLE MAR- 
ket;reports. 
There is, in short, no class or interest in the 
country that does not find itself represented in 
its columns. The . 
PRIZE STORY 
engraved upon'her heart. Bek Manly knew 
the picture that was painting itself before ber at 
that moment. She was covering this field with 
Us rushing thousands. Seeing the waving of 
banners, the struggle of bright bayonets, the 
reel, the fall, the blood, the horror. Hearing 
the shouts of commanders, (lie neighing of 
horses, the rattle of musketry, the ring of ram¬ 
rods, the tramp and rustic of st ruggling feet , the 
cry, the groan, the sudden hush into death. 
Feeling the hot air of the hour, breathing the 
intoxicating fumes of human blood. 
Slowly the white lids drooped over the hor¬ 
rified eyes, and Srsm sank down among the 
flower* upon her husband’s grave, her frame 
writhing in strong spasms. 
Colonel Manly sprang forward to her side. 
“Oh, Gor>!” he cried, in bitter tones, “this 
is what I feared." 
But there was no time for self-reproaches. 
He raised her tenderly in his arms and bore her 
from the spot.. 
“ Mare’r Co’nel,” said C-esab, with tears 
streaming from his eyes, and outstretched hands, 
“shill I help you, sab ?” 
Ben shook his head, and bore his beautiful 
burden to the carriage. Arranging her in as 
comfortable a posture as wus possible, and 
sustaining her on his arm, he bade Cacsak drive 
carefully, very carefully. 
They returned to Chattanooga, and Susie was 
placed in the care of a motherly old negro woman, 
and provided with the best medical attendance 
that could be procured. Manly was himself by 
education a physician, and though he had never 
practiced, except in accidental cases, his knowl¬ 
edge now served him well. And no woman with 
all of woman’s tender heart and gentle hand, 
could have been more attentive and absorbed in 
careful offices, than was this swart soldier as he 
hovered about the bed of the woman beloved. 
Yes, In this hour he found that his love was as 
fresh as it had been In the days of his boyhood. 
The prospect of losing Susie was now inexpressi¬ 
bly paiulul to him. Oh, how earnestly he coa^ 
tended with threatening Death for vantage 
ground! Oh, how he prayed Go» to spare 
the life of this duar woman who lay 60 help¬ 
less before him—who Buffered such excruciating 
pain* that his eyes welled over with team of 
sympathy and yearning. 
Susie’s thoughts, when she waa conscions, 
were all on the sad errand that had brought 
her hither. 
“Dear friend,” she murmured, with Ben 
Manly’* hand in hey, “if I should die, you 
know where I would rest. You will send' ns 
back to Rost Harftbr to fie side by side with 
our little ones. You promise?” 
“Yes,” Ben answered. “But do not speak 
of dying, Susie. You wifi recover. Yon must.” 
At last she grew better, and was able to be 
removed. Charley’s remains had been ex¬ 
humed, and they returned to Rose Harbor. 
There was a funeral iu the old stone church under 
the elm* on St. George’s street, and what was 
let! of Charley Dennison was laid in thegravc- 
vard, between two little mounds, beneath which 
his little girls were steeping, lie was sincerely 
mourned by many-—but by none so fervently as 
by these two—the woman who had been Ids wife, 
and the man who had been his true aud steadfast 
friend. 
The widow Dennison had sold her cottage at 
Rose Harbor, and resided uninterruptedly with 
her daughter Kate, wife of the fanner *ou the 
Broad Valley road. Su-siu was invited to make 
her home there as long as she would. Her 
mother's residence in Washington had no more 
attraction for her than that oi a stranger would 
have had. Susie resembled her lather in all 
things-her mother iu nothing. She accepted 
Kate’s offer, thankfully. 
“And, Susie,” said Mrs. Manly, Bek’s 
mother. “ come aud visit me os often as you 
can. You know 1 love you like a daughter; and 
I am so lonely sometimes, Come often to the 
Harbor, and stay with me, darling. I shall be 
all alone again soon. Ben’* old uneasiness has 
come upon him again, and he is going abroad 
next week.” 
“No!” cried Susie, eagerly, in a startled 
whisper. “He must uot go!” 
Then she blushed a deep crimson—for, glanc¬ 
ing in the pier-glass opposite, she saw that Bek 
Manly stood iu the doorway. He had over¬ 
heard her. and he paused in the act of entering. 
[To be continued. 
THE NEW YORK 
CIRCULATES all OVER THE UNION 
Commenced on the 6th of January, the publica¬ 
tion of the story of American Society, entitled 
For advertisers there is no more advantageous 
medium. For the public generally, no such or¬ 
gan of information. ONLY 
■Written Expressly for Moore's Rural New-Yorker, 
SUSIE CASTLANDT; 
Two Dollars a Year in Advance 
It was a rarely beautiful June morning when 
they left Chattanooga in a carriage to ride to the 
battle field. They entered It by the RossviHe gap. 
It was with peculiar emotions that Ben Manly 
gazed on that scene of deadly conflict, in which 
he had been an active participant. Something 
similar had been the thoughts with which he had 
gazed, some years before, upon the ruin* of the 
Coliseum of Rome, picturing the drcudi'ul scenes 
of by-gone days In that bloody ampltheatre where 
Christians were tossed in to be torn to pieces by 
raging wild beasts. Something similar, yet not 
the same. This scene was more his own. The 
history of its torn aud mangled thousands was 
written in his heart. 
The rail fences which had been swept to the 
ground in the surge Ol battle, were not re-erected. 
Man’s hand had done nothing to alter the aspect 
of the scene since that fearful September day, 
save where soldiers had marked with rails the 
graves of comrades. But (Ion’s hand is never 
Idle, and the grass grew green over the roll¬ 
ing ground, and the perfume of roses loaded 
the air. The trees were rich with foliage, aud 
the woodbine and morning glory clambered 
about their wounded trunks and branches. But 
these wound* were all healed. The storm of 
shot and shell which swept so much manhood 
out of life, only shattered aud tore the senseless 
trees— it could not kill them. The struggling 
soldiers trampled a few straggling flowers to 
death that September day; but now they grew 
in tenfold luxuriance, fed by the rich blood that 
the soil had drained. Ben Manly grew sick 
with their heavy perfume. 
As for this little woman at his side, he feared for 
her as they drew nearer the fatal spot where poor 
Charley's life-blood hud crimsoned the grass. 
It was no sight for her, with her shattered 
health. He had spoken to her of this before, 
but knowing well he could say nothing that 
would deter her. Something quite above and 
beyond the influence of his will guided her 
feet. Now that she was here, and he looked in 
her frightened eyes, he saw reflected there a 
horror so deep that he was seriously alarmed 
for her. 
“Can you bear It, Susie ?” he asked. 
She made no other reply than to press his 
hand warmly with her own. 
C.icsak saw that horror in her eyes, too. lie 
looked at Bek gravely, he shook his gray head 
sadly, and murmured “ Pore chile ! ” 
Everywhere mounds, mounds, mounds! Be¬ 
neath each of these little hillocks there sleeps an 
American soldier,—rebel or patriot, it cannot 
signify now; together they mingle their dust, 
the sinning and the sinned against. The winter 
rains have swept away the earth at the head or 
the foot of many of the mounds, and here lies a 
grinning skull, there a skeleton foot, over which 
worms crawl or insects buzz. Wasps have built 
a nest in one of these skulls, in which once 
there lived a conscious brain, from which once 
there looked out eyes whose light some woman 
somewhere loved, and perhaps to-day remembers 
mournfully, happily unconscious of this bitter 
sacrilege. Yonder there is a lit tle heap of human 
bones, bleached white us ivory by the action of 
rain and sun; and Bex Manly remembers, like 
a passage in a dream, the hour when he saw the 
soldier whose flesh covered those bones, stand¬ 
ing with liis gun rested against a tree for steadier 
aim, when a rebel bullet went through his heart, 
and crouching against the tree he sank heavily 
to the ground, and was never again disturbed, 
but mouldered aud mouldered — until this 
remains! 
Under an old tree with gnarled and knotted 
branches, stood the railed indosure that Ben 
Manly had caused to be erected over Charley 
Dennison’s grave. Vines clambered lovingly 
aud thickly over the rough rails, hewn long 
before the war by some Tennesseean's ax; and 
roses and honeysuckles bloomed within, and the 
aroma from their delicate cups secincd like 
incense over poor Charley’s resting-place. 
“This is the spot,” said Ben, in a low tone. 
TWO DOLLARS 
- FIVE DOLLARS 
EIGHT DOLLARS 
FIFTEEN DOLLARS 
ONE COPY - 
THREE COPIES 
FIVE COPIES 
TEN COPIES 
BY WILLIAM -WIRT SIRES 
MARGARET LEE 
[Continued (rom page 2S, last number.] 
Chapter IV. - Love Renewed. 
The Doctor Seymour whom Mrs. Castlandt 
had made happy by bestowing on him her hand, 
was a somewhat elderly gentleman, of consid¬ 
erable wealth. The residence he occupied iu 
Washington was a strikingly handsome building 
standing upon the corner of two Intersecting 
streets, surrounded by large aud elegant grounds. 
The reader who is familiar with Washington, 
wonld be not unlikely to remember the place, were 
1 to specify its location more distinctly than this; 
I therefore refrain, out of respect to parties yet 
living, whom I have no desire to offend. It 
was here that Susie lived, surrounded by every 
luxury that wealth could buy; but very lonely, 
and very unhappy. Both her little ones were 
dead; scarlet, fever hod carried them off within a 
few days of each other, soon after Susie came to 
Washington to live with her mother. Mrs. Sey¬ 
mour waa very food of society still, and being 
as yet on the sunny side of forty, mingled in the 
gaieties of fife there with all her former ze6t; 
but SusiEypcrsistently refused to be drawn from 
her seclusion, and indeed the mother did not 
urge it very strongly. 
It was here that Colonel Manly called, on the 
eveningjof the day he met old Cajsar in Penn¬ 
sylvania avenue. He took in the luxurious 
appliances of the parlor into which he was 
ushered, at a comprehensive glance. 
“So Susie’s mother is once more in the 
enjoyment of those luxuries which she was 
reared to^believc the summon bonum of earthly 
desires,” lie thought, as he seated himself on a 
sofa. “I am glad of St, for Susie’s sake. The 
children -will be properly reared and educated, 
and Susie herself no longer galled with the 
chain of poverty,” 
Ben [did not know the little ones had followed 
their father to the land of the-hereafter. 
Opposite him as he sat, there hung upon the 
wall a portrait in oil of Susie Castlandt as she 
appeared at the time slic first went, to Rose 
Harbor. It bad been painted in Washington 
but a mouth or two previous to that time. He 
had never seen it before. It was vividly life¬ 
like. Gazing upon it then, he forgot the present; 
the shadows rolled back; the years gathered up 
their trailing robes; he was again a boy at Rose 
Harbor, and the Susie Castlandt of those days 
was dancing and laughing and shaking her golden 
curls through the long sunshine. He looked 
once more in her joyous eyes; he felt the poetry 
of her presence, the magic and the music of her 
touch aud tone. Once more she stood before 
him, all health, all beauty, with red cheek and 
lip, and form luxuriantly rounded with the 
wealth of her physical life. And then his gaze 
wandered away from the portrait on the wall, 
adown a vale of the gentle memories, at the end 
of which he beheld the sad white fa^c of a little 
woman who came softly into the room, and 
gilded to his side, and took both his hands 
and murmured, 
“ Oh, Ben, I am so glad you have come! ” 
“You are not well,” were the words that rose 
invohmtarily^to his lips as soon as they were 
seated. 
“ I am crushed, Ben,” she said with a plaintive 
smile; “ do you know how much I am itlone ? ” 
“What do you mean, Susie?” 
“Father is dead, Charlie is dead, Isabel is 
dead, little Susie is dead,— all dead. Oh, I am 
very lonely! ” 
Tears crept from under her closed eyelids, 
down her white cheeks. Poor Ben knew not 
what to say to her. He felt his heart empty of 
power to sympathize in words with this touch¬ 
ing grief. He Itnew that, sometimes, there is 
nothing that seems like mockery so jarring, as 
words of condolence, however sincere, 
“Am I selfish, Ben?” she asked through her 
tears. “Is it wicked to feel so unhappy because 
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A young New York lady, her first effort as a 
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2MO VEIj. 
BEST FARMING LANDS in the WORLD 
ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD CO., 
In Tracts to suit Purchasers, AT LOW FZIZCSS. 
w K. 
THE, JLLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD COMPANY^HAVE'FOR SALE, 
900,000 ACRES of the best Farming Lands in the Country, 
The road extends from Dunleith, in the north-western part of tho State, to Cairo, in the extreme southern 
part, with a branch from Centralis,- one hundred and thirteen miles north of Cairo, to Chicago, on the shore of 
Lake Michigan—altogether a length of 704 miles—anil tho land which la offered for sale is situated upon either 
side of tho track, in no instance at a greater distance titan fifteen miles. 
State of Illinois. 
’ The rapid development of Illinois, its steady increase in population and wealth, and its capacity to produco 
j cheap food, aro matters for wonder and admiration. Tho United States Commissioner of Agriculture estimates 
rj the amounts of the principal crops of 1864, for the whole country, as follows: Indian corn, 680,681,403 bushels; 
j wheat, 160,695,823 bushels; oats, 176,690,064 bushels; of which the farms of Illinois yielded 138,356,135 bushels 
33,371,173 bushels of wheat; and 24,273,751 bushels of oats—in reality more than one-fourth of 
of Indian corn; 
the corn, more than one-fifth of the wheat, and almost oao-seventb of the oats produced ta all the United States. 
Grain—Stock Raising. 
Pre-eminently the first in tho list of grain-exporting States, Illinoia is also the great cattle State of the 
Union. Its fertile prairies are well adapted by nature to the raising of cattle, sheep, horses and mules; and in 
the important Interest of pork packing, it is far in advance of every other State. The seeding of these prairie 
lands to tame grasses for pasturage or hay, offers to farmers with capital the most profitable results. The 
hay crop of Illinois in 1864 is estimated at 2,166,725 tons, which is more than haif a million tons larger than the 
crop of any other State, excepting only New York. 
Inducements to Settlers. 
The attention of persons, whose limited means forbid the purchase of a homestead in the older States, is 
particularly invited to those lands. Within ten years the Illinois Central Railroad Company has sold 1,400,000 
acres, to more than 20,000 actual settlers: and during the last year 264,422 acrc3—a larger aggregate of sales 
than in any one year since the opening of the road The farms aro sold in tracts of forty or eighty acres, 
suited to the settler with limited capital, or in larger tracts, as may bo required by the capitalist and stock 
raiser, The soil is of unsurjiasscd fertility ; tho climate ts healthy ; taxes are low ; churches and schools 
are becoming abundant throughout the leegth and breadth of the State; and communication with all the great 
markets is made easy through railroads, canals and rivers. 
PRICES AND TERMS OP PAYMENT. 
The price of lands varies from $9 to $15 and upwards per acre, and they are sold on short credit, or for 
cash. A deduction of ten per cent, from the short credit price is made to those who buy for cash. 
E X AM PEE: 
Forty acres at $10 per aero, on credit; the principal one-quarter cash down—balance one, two and three 
years, at six per cent, interest, in advance, each year. 
Interest. Principal. Interest. Principal. 
Cash Piynatt,.$lft 00 $100 00 I Payment In two years,..... $6 00 100 00 
Payment In one year,... Li 00 100 00 | - three yews.... 100 00 
The Same Land may be Purchased for @360 Cash. 
Full information on nil points, together with maps, showing the exact location of Lands, will bo furnished 
on application, in person or l>y letter, to 
LAND COMMISSIONER, Illinois Central R. R. Co., Chicago, Illinois. 
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