MOOEB'S RUBRAL HBW-l 
4 
THE CONSCRIPT’S PRAYER. 
BY GRACE FLEETWOOD. 
O hear us, Father Abraham, 
As at the rail we come; 
We leave our wive* and little ones, 
We leave our hearth at home, 
We leave our blooming valleys, 
We leave our granite hills; 
We rush to freedom’* re-rue 
With firm, determined wills. 
Then hear us, Father Abraham, 
One earnest prayer we make, 
Both for our future happiness 
And for our country ' , sake. 
O send us not to garrison 
The islands of the sea, 
Far from the reach of danger 
And human sympathy. 
O send us not to prison 
In any dismal fort, 
For no high-minded citizen 
Would such confinement court. 
O send us not to labor 
Beneath a southern nun; 
We’re coming, Father Abraham, 
That vict’ries may be won. 
We’re coming, Father Abraham, 
To meet our country’s foe, 
And deal on southern chivalry 
A last and fatal blow, 
Then grant us our petition 
And burry us along; 
We're coining for our liberties, 
With willing hearts and strong. 
We’re coming from the mountains, 
We're coming from the. plains, 
To fight our country’s battles 
Till right o’er treason reigns. 
The conscript* now are ready 
All orders to obey, 
We’re waiting, Father Abraham, 
To win a glorious day. 
[ Springfield Republican. 
l!w 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker. 
LOVE VS. SHOULDER STRAPS. 
“Wjty do T treat IOi.lis Benedict so cavu- 
lierly, and devote my time to petting Lieut 
Morgan, did you ask, Lor? That's rather a 
saucy question, mu belle , hut as you have consti¬ 
tuted yourself my ‘father confessor,* 1 suppose I 
must e’en answer it, though I wonder that you 
ask such a simple thing. Didn’t you know that 
a soldier’s uniform was, and ought to be. an irre¬ 
sistible attraction to a sensible and patriotic girl, 
. such as your friend is supposed to be?” 
“Yes, Grach*', when the uniform covers a true 
heart, but as brave a one may beat under a citi¬ 
zen’s coat. You know it is not Ellis Bene¬ 
dict's fault that he is uot a soldier. He was 
‘the only son of his mother, and she a widow,’ 
but now she has at last gone to her rest, I think 
Ellis will not remain long away from the post 
he has so often wished to Oil.'* 
Gracie Hurston absently turned the leaves 
of the book she had been reading for a few mo¬ 
ments, and then drawing her friend’s head down 
into her lap. she said: 
“Well, Lou, I’ll just tell you all about it, I 
always liked Ellis, from the time we went to 
District School together and learned our letters 
from the same spelling-book, and I know he 
loves me. He is a good and noble boy,—but— 
Lieutenant Morgan has asked me to be his wife. 
I told him I would consider the matter, and—on 
the whole—I think I'll take him!” 
Lou’s eyes filled with tears as she drew her 
friend lovingly to her. and said: 
“Gon bless you, Gracie, whoever you may 
choose, and make your life-path as pleasant an 
one as you deserve;'' and thereupon the two 
commenced a confidential girlish chat into which 
we will uot intrude. 
But little introduction is needed to bring the 
characters of this little sketch before the eyes of 
the reader. Guaote 11i estox was a gay, warm¬ 
hearted girl, full of generous impulses, with a 
dash of romauce in her disposition, and patriotic 
almost to a fault, if such a thing were possible. 
Lou OsaoRNE needs no other mention than 
simply that she was Gracie’s dearest friend. 
Lieutenant Morgan was a member of the 
“Grand Army” who had seen a campaign or 
two,—received a slight wound in one of them, 
just sufficient to throw a halo of heroism around 
him quite irresistible to one of GracTE's enthu¬ 
siastic temperament. As for the rest, he was 
gay, fascinating,—lint supremely selfish, which 
little fault had not become apparent to Gracie. 
whose fancy was captivated by Morgan, but 
certainly not her heart, which, after all. was 
more nearly in Ellis Benedict's keeping than 
the Lieutenant's, but Gracie never mistrusted 
that fact As for the former, it is only necessary 
to say that he was one of those noble, self-sacri¬ 
ficing souls of whom one meets so few in this 
cold world, arid fully worthy of any true woman’s 
love. 
That evening, in Gracie' s home, a little group 
was gathered, composed of all the individuals 
connected with our story. Of the four, Lot 
was thoughtful,— Gracie full of her usual gay 
spirits, with a brighter light in her eyes, if possi¬ 
ble, than generally shone there, and a deeper 
rose-tint on her cheeks.— Ellis was very grave 
and sa«l, and the Lieutenant appeared at perfect 
peace with himself and the rest of mankind. 
“ Three hundred thousand more troops called 
for.” said Lon, takiug up a daily paper that lay 
near her, and glancing over its columns in a 
pause that occurred in the conversation; "1 sup¬ 
pose we shall lose you again soon, Morgan. 
Your patriotism will never resist a call like that, 
of course?” 
“ Yes.” he replied, carelessly, “I shall go us 
soon as I can get a commission.” 
‘ And not before?" said Gracie, turning 
quickly toward him. 
“Not L" 
“And why not, pray?" questioned she, with a 
rising flush on her cheeks. 
“Why?” said he, with a little shrug of his 
shoulders; -that's nor a hard question to answer. 
When one ha? his choice of positions, that of an 
officer is vastly more agreeable than that of ‘high 
private,’—to say nothing of the low associations 
connected with the latter position.” 
“And you?” said she, turning to Ellis, who 
sat with compressed lips, listening to the conver¬ 
sation, “ when do you think of volunteering for 
glory?” 
“ I join my regiment at D-to-morrow,” was 
his simple reply. 
“You!" exclaimed Gracie, while her heart 
gave a great bound that sent the blood from her 
face, and her voice trembled slightly as she 
asked. “And what rank bare we to assign to 
you?" 
“High private,” he answered, somewhat bit¬ 
terly. “ My country needs the help of my arm 
in her hour of trouble more than 1 any honor she 
can bestow upon me, and now that the last, tie 
that bound me to my home is broken, I shall go 
to her aid, as 1 should have gone long ago, had 
not a higher duty detained me at home,” and 
hastily rising, he said the good-byes he had come 
to speak, and, notwithstanding the efforts made 
to detain him. took his departure. 
Lou soon afterward left the room, and what 
took place between Gracie and the Lieutenant, 
that military individual never told, but he fol¬ 
lowed in the footsteps of Ellis before an hour 
bad passed, his general appearance being any¬ 
thing but that ot an accepted lover,—looking, in 
fact, considerably astoniehed, and not a little 
crest-fallen. 
Gracie entered Lou’s room shortly after, and 
throwing herself down by her friend’s side, ex¬ 
claimed, 
“There’s patriotism for you. How blind I 
was to imagine him superior to Ellis Bene¬ 
dict,” and Lou, for answer, only kissed her 
lovingly, and whispered in her ear, “I’m so 
glad. Gracie!” 
The great Central Railroad depot in the city 
from which the —th Regiment took its departure 
from the State, was filled to overflowing with a 
busy crowd on a certain autumn evening in that 
year of 1862. Officers, sashed and plumed, 
promenaded up and down the length of the 
building, with their swords clanging martially at 
their heels among the crowds of blue-uniformed 
privates who swarmed everywhere. . Wives 
clung to their husbands’ arms for the last time,— 
mothers, with tearful eyes, bade farewell to their 
sons,—and all those sad scenes were enacted 
w hich have been repeated and re-repeated so 
many times in these terrible years of war which 
have come Upon us. Amid the mingled tones of 
many voices, and the heavy tramp of feet, that 
wild chorus of “Glory—Hallelujah!” raug out 
from a hundred throats, and floated up to the 
arched roof in strange, wild harmony. It was a 
lime and scene to thrill the dullest heart. 
Apart from the restless, surging crowd, with 
his military cap drawn down over sad eyes, and 
a brow contracted by some deep and sorrow ful 
emotion, stood a soldier closely nntftled in his 
blue overcoat. It was our old friend, Ellis 
Benedict, and as he gazed on the scenes around 
him, wild, despairing thoughts rushed through 
his heart. He was alone,—all alone,—no eyes 
grew dim at. meeting his farewell glance,— there 
was no hand to hold his own in a long, lingering 
clasp, which might be the last.,—in all this broad 
earth no one cared for his going, and no heart 
would leap for joy to greet him should lie ever 
return,—though he thought not of return, und a 
gleam of tierce .joy shone in his eyes as he thought 
htnv soon he might lie at. rest in some nameless 
grave, on some bloody battlefield to which lie 
was hastening. He had visited his mother's 
grave for the last time,— it was the only link 
which bound him to bis home—how mad be had 
once been to dream of another,—and as a vision 
of that fair young face he had so loved to gaze 
upon rose up before his mind’s eye, his lips grew 
white, and hot tears, none the less bitter that, his 
manhood would forbid ihera to fall, Glled bis 
eyes. 
Just then a light touch on his arm startled 
him, and he turned to meet the laughing face 
and blue eyes of— Gracie Hueston! Every¬ 
thing grew dim before him for a moment, and he 
almost, doubted the evidence of his senses. But 
it. was her ow n gay voice that exclaimed. 
“That’s a desperate look for a soldier boy just 
oil’ to the wars! Was it put on for the occasion? 
Why are you not circulating around, saying 
good-bye to your friends, instead of hiding your¬ 
self in this dark corner?" 
“ Friend?!*’ repeated he, bitterly, “who cares 
for iny going or coming?” 
“Who? Very many,— Gracie Hueston, for 
one.” 
“ You would better go and console Lieutenant 
Morgan. He will appreciate your parting 
words,—I am astonished at your leaving him at 
such a time.” 
Lieutenant Morgan has a Captain’s commis¬ 
sion,” returned Gracie carelessly, “which is 
doubtless sufficient for any griefs he may suffer,— 
but you are rude to me. Ellis,” she continued, 
while her face grew sad and tears crept into her 
eyes, “ I did not think to hear such words from 
you.” 
“Forgive me, Gracie.” he exclaimed, seizing 
her hand and drawing it within his arm.—“I am 
mad —wild—and I do not know what I say. Do 
you not know how I love yon, Gracie, and that 
it is killing me?” 
“How should I know?” said she, demurely ? 
with her eves ou the ground. “ You never told 
pel” 
“ You seemed to scorn me, Gracih, and I 
could not. But now you do know, what do you 
say to me? Answer me quickly, if you have 
any pity for me.” 
Gracie said never a word, but raised her eyes 
to his for a second, then dropped them quickly as 
she met his intent, eager gaze fixed upon her 
face. What he read there this deponent Fayetli 
not, but it seemed very satisfactory to hitn, judg¬ 
ing from the look of happiness that, swept over 
his face, and the little band that lay on his arm 
was clasped more tightly In his, but it was under 
the heavy cape of his overcoat, and no one was 
any the wiser lor it. A few moments were spent 
in conversation, but very much was said in those 
short roomonl*. and when the whistle blew, and 
the cry of “All aboard ” rang through the depot, 
Gracie was folded tightly in his arms for a 
moment, and then ho sprang upon the car steps 
with a radiant face, not very much like the one 
with which he entered the depot. 
A year has passed since then, and Captain 
Benedict’s name has been honorably mentioned 
many times for gallant conduct, and ho has a 
fair prospect of further promotion. A pair of 
blue eyes grow brighter as the tidings come back 
to bis home, and earnest prayers for his safe 
return arise to heaven from a loving heart.—a 
heart won by /one, not shoulder straps. 
Traverse City, Mich , 1863. M. E. C. 
RUSSIAN MARRIAGE CEREMONIES. 
In the vast steppes of soulheastci'n Russia, on 
the shores of the Caspian and Black Sea, mar¬ 
riage ceremonies recall patriarchal customs of 
of the earliest stages of society. The evening 
before the day when tbeafflnanced bride la given 
to her husband, she pays visits to her master 
and the inhabitants of the village, in the simple 
dress of a peasant, consisting of a red cloth 
jacket, descending as low as the knees, a very 
short white petticoat, fastened at the waist with a 
red woolen scarf, above which is an embroidered 
chamois. The legs, which are always bare above 
the ancle, are sometimes protected by red or yel¬ 
low morocco boom. The girls of the village who 
accompany her are, ou the contrary, attired in 
their best, recalling the old paintings of* Byzan¬ 
tine art, where the Virgin is adorned with a cor¬ 
onal. They know how to arrange with great art 
the leaves and scarlet berries of various kinds of 
trees in their hair, the tresses of which are plaited 
as a crown, or hang down on the shoulders. A 
necklace of pearls or coral is wound at least a 
dozen times round the neck, on which they bang 
religious medals, wit h enamel paintings imitating 
mosaic. At each house the betrothed throws 
herself on her knees before the head of it, and 
kisses his feet as she begs his pardon; the fair 
penitent is immediately raised and kissed, receiv¬ 
ing some small present, whilst she in return gives 
a small roll of bread, of a symbolic form. On 
her return home all her beautiful hair is cut off 
as henceforth she must wear the plaiok or tur¬ 
ban, a woolen or linen shawl which is rolled 
die head—the only distinction between the mar¬ 
ried and unmarried. It is invariably presented 
by the husband, as the Indian shawl among our¬ 
selves; which, however, we have withdrawn from 
its original destination, which ought only to be a 
head-dross. The despoiled bride expresses her 
regrets with touching grace, in one of their simple 
songs: *• Oh, my curls, my fair golden hair! Not 
for one only, not for two years only, have I ar¬ 
ranged you — every Saturday you were bathed, 
every Sunday you were ornamented, and to-day. 
in a single hour. 1 must loose you!” The old 
woman whose duty it is to roll the turban round 
the brow, wishing her happiness, says: “ f cover 
your head with the phtoke, my sister, and I wish 
you health and happiness. Be pure ns water, 
and fruitful as the earth.*’ When the marriage 
is over the husband takes his wife to the inhabi¬ 
tants of the village, and shows them the change 
of dress effected the night before. 
ANGLO-SAXON WEDDINGS. 
Not till the ninth or tenth century did women 
obtain the privilege of choosing or refusing their 
husbands. Often they were betrothed as children, 
the bridegroom's pledge of marriage being ac¬ 
companied by a “ security,” or “ wed,” whence 
cornea the word. Part of the wed always con¬ 
sisted of ft ring, placed on the maiden’s right hand, 
and there religiously kept until transferred to the 
other hand at the later nuptials. Then, also, 
were repeated the marriage vows and other cer¬ 
emonies, out of which those now prevailing have 
grown. The bride was taken “for fairer for 
fouler, for better for worse, for richer for poorer,” 
and promised “lobe buxom and bonny ” to her 
future husband. At the filial ceremony the bride¬ 
groom put the ring ou each of the bride’s left- 
hand fingers iu turn, saying at the first, “in the 
name of the Father,” at the second, “in the name 
of the Son," at the third, “in the name of the 
Holy Ghost.” and at the fourth, "Amen.” Then 
also the father gave to his new sou one of his 
daughter's shoes, in token of the transfer of au¬ 
thority which he effected, and the bride was at 
once made to feel the change by a tap ora blow 
on the head given with the shoe. The husband 
on bis part took an oath to use his wife well. If 
lie failed to do so she might leave him. but by the 
law he wa* allowed considerable license. He 
was bound in honor "to bestow on his wife and 
his apprentices moderate castigation.” We have 
nothing to show the exact amount of castigation 
held moderate by the Anglo-Saxons, but one old 
Welsh law decides that three blows with a broom¬ 
stick on any “ part of the person except the head ” 
is a fair allowance, and another provides that, 
the stick lie no longer than the husband’s arm, 
nor thicker than his middle finger. Prior to the 
seventh century a wife might at any time be 
repudiated on proof of her being either barren, de¬ 
formed, silly, passionate, luxurious, rude, habitu¬ 
ally drunk, gluttonous, very garrulous, quarrel¬ 
some, or abusive.— 2'hrubb's Anglo-Saxon House, 
Glorify a lie. legalize a lie. arm and equip a 
lie. consecrate a lie with solemn forms and awful 
penalties, and after all it is nothing but a lie. It 
rots a land and corrupts a people like any other 
lie. and by and by the white light of God's truth 
shines clear through it, and shows it to be a lie. 
GO-ASK MY MOTHER. 
You’ve told me many a time and oft 
That I was fair and comely; 
My eyes were bright—my tresses soft, 
While other girls were homely. 
“She’s quite too young to know her will,” 
The folks say to each other; 
But—if you truly love me still— 
Why—go and ask my mother. 
I’ve seen you dance with city girls, 
And llirt with country cousins; 
Praise Julia and her raven curls, 
And glances throw by dozens, 
I thought It very strange, and row’d 
I'd look out for another; 
But when you smiled my anger bow’d— 
So—go and ask my mother. 
I'm told there’s care in married life, 
That ail the joy’s in courting; 
When young men have secured a wife, 
They say their vows aie sporting. 
1 won’t believe what old maids say, 
If you won’t choose another; 
You've bother'd me so much to-day, 
Do—go and ask my mother. 
Amusing Circumstance.— During thedraftin 
the Fourteenth ward, a little incident gave rise to 
much merriment and contributed to the good feel¬ 
ing everywhere manifested about the conscription. 
In the crowd there stood a pale-faced Irishman, 
with his hands crossed und his arms behind his 
back. He gazed intently as each name was drawn 
from the wheel of destiny. He had not been heard 
to speak a word to anybody. Presently ho ap¬ 
peared to be operated upon by some unseen gal¬ 
vanic battery. During his spasm he excl aimed in 
an F sharp tone: 
“Whirl it round! whirl it round! rouse it, will 
ye?” shouted the man. He was evidently full of 
dread suspense. 
“What’s the matter with you?” shouted the Pro¬ 
vost Marshal. 
“0, be jftbers, turn it round a dozen o’ times, 
for that man you drawed last is ray next door 
neighbor.” 
At this point the universal laugh set in Phil¬ 
adelphia North American. 
(Stomw fm llw fJmiBJj. 
For Moore'* Rural New-Yorker, 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 20 letters. 
My 0, 9, 17, 10 is found in a very warm day. 
M.v 19, 14, 20, 4 ia what lazy boys hate. 
My 15,17, 3, 13 i* what every dwelling house should have. 
My 5, 11, 15 is sometimes a word of exclamation. 
My 7, 16, 8 is what many men do in life. 
My 1, 2, 12, IS is what all are subject to. 
My whole is w hat all should do in these times of trouble. 
Penflcld, N. Y., 1808. x. 
O'” Answer iu two weeks. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
ARITHMETICAL QUESTION. 
a 
'Aimcrtisemcnts. 
>yTEW YORK STATE AGRICULTURAL WORKS ^ 
A New Measure for Lager.— Not long since 
the keeper of a lager beer saloon was arrested 
upon a charge of selling intoxicating liquor with¬ 
out license, when he attempted to prove that the 
Teutonic beverage was not an intoxicateng 
drink. 
A number of witnesses who had amply tested 
iis qualities, were called one after another, until 
finally an old German named W--.took the 
stand, and the question was propounded to him: 
“ Do you consider lager beer intoxicating?” 
“ Veil.” replied W-, “ash for dat I gant 
zay; 1 drinksh fcefly or seexty glasses a day, 
and it never hurtsh me; but I don’t know how 
it woult pe if a man vash to make a hog of 
hisself.” 
Skvk.yty-.-jevk.v dollars are divided among three per¬ 
sons, A, H, and C, so that A receives nine-thirteenths as 
much as B and C’; and one third the difference between 
IV* money and C'ts, plus one-half of B's money equals 
C’s: how much does each receive ? x, 
Newark, N. Y., 1863. 
t ir Answer in two weeks. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ANAGRAMS OF CITIES. 
Kolnbory, 
Oihcgoae, 
Snbtoo, 
Tincncaiin, 
Fuboalf, 
Jarvis, Ind , 1863. 
VsT Answer in two weeks. 
Rosncahelt, 
Wilmueeak, 
Merobtail, 
Ahilnsvel, 
Nshviianaa. 
L. W. Rude. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LOGOGRAPHS. 
1. What animal beheaded becomes a part of your head ? 
2. What animal beheaded becomes an ancient King ? 
3. What animal beheaded becomes a very useful liquid 7 
4. What animal beheaded becomes a preposition ? 
Cold Brook, N. Y., 1863. John G BexSOJI. 
vy Answer in two weeks. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 709. 
Answer to Historical Enigma:—For I shall not live to 
see the surrender of Quebec. 
Answer to Geographical Enigma:—A burnt child dreads 
fire. 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma: — Volunteer and 
avoid the draft. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem:—25,9507 H lbs. 
Answer to Anagram: 
One fatal remembrance—one sorrow that throws 
Its bleak shade alike o’er our joys and our woes— 
To which life nothing darker uor brighter can bring, 
For which ioy hath no balm—and affliction no sting. 
WHEELER, MELICK, & Co., 
Proprietors, Albany, N. Y., 
MANUFACTURE Wbrelkrs Patent 
RAILWAY CHAIN HORSE POWERS 
for oxs ash two horses: 
LAWRENCE A GUI LD PATENT RAILWAY ClIArx 
IIORRE POWERS, 
for ovk. two axu tbrkr horses; 
PLANTATION OR LEVER HORSE POWER, 
FOUR HORSE OR SIX MPLK GEAR; 
U'heeler^t Patent Combined Thretiler nnrf 
Cleaner , 
No. 1, 30 inch and No. 2, 26 inch Cylinder; 
Extra No. 1. 31 Inch Cylinder. 
Overshot Threshers and Separators, Circular and 
Cross-Cut Sawing Machines, 
Clover Hiiller*, Feed ('litters, tlorw Knkce, llone 
Fork*, fimt other Forming Machine*. 
Circulars, containing list of pricks, and full descrip¬ 
tion, and ci ts of each maciiixk, with statements of their 
capacities for work, will, on application, he sent by mail, 
postage free. 
I'jr Liberal discount* are made to dealers. 
Responsible h vents are wanted in section* where we have 
none. Address, 
WHEELER, IttELICK A Co., 
[708-4t] ALBANY, N. Y. 
Or 
\ TJ O T I O 3NT SALE 
J " OP SOUTH-DOWN SHEEP. 
On WedncMlny, Se-pt. Snd, 1863, 
I will offer at PUBLIC SALE, at Thorn date, without any 
reserve, 
One Hundred South-Down Ewes and Earns. 
They are nil either imported or directly descended from 
recent importation* from the flocks of the late Jo.xas 
Wrkk. Duke oi Richmond, find Hfc.vity Li’Gar. It can 
hnrdly be necessary to reP- to the superior mutton ami 
wool-producing qualities of this breed. At the present 
time their woo: i• the most sought after, and commands a, 
blub a price .** any other kind 
Tborodulo s l( miles from Poughkeepsie Station, on the 
Hudson River R K , and 9 miles horn Dover Plains Station, 
on the Harlem R.R, 
Further particulars can be learned by reference to the 
Catalogue of sals, which mw be had upon application to 
the auctioneer, Mr J.vo R Face, Sen nett, Cayuga Co , 
N.Y., or Of SAML. THORN K. Thnrndfile. 
706 Washington Hollow, Dutchess Co., N Y 
f (ANCF.HR CURED! All verson* afflicted with Cancer-, 
\j Tumors, Swelling*, or old sores, no matter of how 
long standing, ran receive, I \7~ Furs: os CUAltov., Ur .I a 
Circular, describing the mod** of treatment used for i>.»n? 
Tears l.v the subscribers at their Cancer H.'pital, in New 
York city. Canccs are icmoved without pun, and with¬ 
out the use of the knife. Send for il CjrciilaF. 
Address Dr*. BABCOCK At IOBTN, 
[706-tf] No. 27 Bond sheet, New Y ork, N. Y. 
r | IQ CHEESE ID A.I!Fl YdVIEiN. 
X BALPH’S PATENT IMPEOVED 
“ONEIDA CHEESE VAT,” 
Was awarded the Flll.-cr PhhMil'M, after a thorough ter, 
at the New York State h air, 1862. I* the most simple, dur¬ 
able and effective 
Cilieene-Nlaklug Apparatus 
in use. Used in dalric* of 10 to T.QW Cows. The only Vat 
well adapted to 
« Factory” Cheese-IHaUiug. 
More economical in use than steam, and much less expen¬ 
sive iu cost Sizes varying from 81 to 855 gallons on hand 
and ready for delivery,—larger sizes for Factory uhs made 
to order. ... 
Send for Circular containing description, size ana price 
list, direction* for using, fee., to _ 
WM RALPH h CO., 133 Genesee St . Ctica, N. Y , 
Manufacturers and Dealers, wholesale and retah, 
in Dairyman'* Tool*, and Implements, 
fjr Vat* carefully packed for shipment «8S-tf 
CEAIG MI0E0S00PE! 
Thi* i* the best and eTieapest. Microscope 
in the world for general use. It requires no 
focal adjustment, magnifies about one hun¬ 
dred diam-ters, or ter, thousand times, an. 
« so simple that a child, can use it It will b* 
sent bv mull, postage paid, on the receipt 1 qf 
Two Dollars and Twenty-five cents, or vu 
six beautiful ir minted objects for Three fly - 
V Inor with twenty -four object* for hive Hop 
Jars. Address HENRY CRAIG. 
-~y ISO Centre Street, New York 
A liberal discount to the trade W 
Ai\l \ l \l H i APPLE Till ES 5 to 8 feel 
1UU.UUU nigh, si Jdj m hundred. 
20.UO1I Standard Pear Trees, 5 to . feel high, at $25 IP la 
10.000 Dwarf rear Tree., .1 lo6 fret high, ,H $18 100- 
White Grape aud Cherry Currant*: 5.000 l>i»n» 
Grape Vines. A Urge, -dock id Peach trees. Cherry to"* 
Plum trees. Gooseberries Kaspbemes. Blackberries,Straw 
berries most nf th* new vaHetle* of Native Grapes, Sc, «*• 
If Allaf the beet WVltem varieties grmcn ext<n*itdi.— 
local and /'rawhill) Agents Wauled. 
Wholesale and Deocnptiv* Catalogues seut to alUPPh- 
cants who iucloge stamps to IxOrt-ay postage. 
Address 1T1 S" "GUDY *SON, 
SHI Niagara Nurseries lockport, N »■ 
A REAimFCI. M 1C KO SCOPE. M A ON IF* IA »* Fiv# 
Hundred times, for SO ugvrs! (coin preferred. Hva, 
of different powers, for $1.00. Mailed free. Address 
667-tf F. M BOWEN. Bov 220, Boston. Mae*. 
MOOEE’S EUEAL NEW-Y0EKEB, 
THB I.AKliKST CtRCVI-ATKD 
Agricultural, Literary and Family Newspaper, 
IS lWHUBHED 8VKKY SATl'KOAY BY 
D. D. T. IQOORE, ROCHESTER, H. T. 
Office, Union Buildimis, Opposite the Court House, Buffalo 5!. 
Ttut-ns , f.V JflFJ.Vf B-' 
Two Dollar* a Year— To Club* and Agents as follow*- 
Three Copies one y. ar, for $5; Six, *nd one free fee a 
agent, for *10; Ten. end one free, for $15; *od any ?r«*W 
number at emne rate — ouly SIAM per copy. Club PM>«* 
directed to individuals aud sect To ms many different 1 cut- 
Offices aa desired. As we pre-pay American postage on 
copies sent abroad. $1 ft! tethe lowest Club rate for Canada, 
aud $2.50 to Europe,—hut during the present rs'-c «> ex¬ 
change, Canada Ageuts or Subscribers remitting for 
Rtkal 11 b'l.K 01 their own spccie-pavicv nonzswiA net be 
abar’sC • oc.age 
siiHKhg to Tbkim.— We endeavor io -hers stnctly ^ 
BUDsenPtton terms, and W> emou is uiitimr---ra to offer 
Rt’RAL m ‘ess man publtstlM rales. Asvu'-S and Irieu 
are at liberty to give, meat! m many copies ot the 
they are disposed to pay for at club rate, but we do not to* 
the paper offered, in any cate, below price. 
The Postaob on the Rural Nrw-Yobicxe is only 4 c * 
per quarter to any part or this State, (except Monroe coun¬ 
ty, where it goes free,I and the earn* to any other r >y 
State, if paid Quarterly in advauce where receivn'i- 
Direct to RocBSSTER, N- Y.-All persona having occa¬ 
sion to address the Rcr'al Nkw-Yorker, will please d 
to Rochester, (V. Y„ and not, as many do, to >« 
Albany, Buffalo, &c. Money Letter* intended for as or 
M flit tO tli* ftbOV^ pl&Ce8. 
