29; 
MOOEE’S EEEAE 3fE 
*05 It, 
Written for Moore's Rural New-Yorker 
AUGUST. 
BT ZEXOB1A nOLLING?WORTH. 
Written on the 12th Anniversary of my Mother’s Death. 
There’S a glimmer of gold on the lake, 
There’s a soft purple sheen on the hills, 
And the notes of the birds seem to blend 
With the low, sad refrain of the rills; 
While around in the fold* of my heart 
Is a shiver of memory creeping, . 
And I tremble and start as I do nt the sound 
Of the wind thro' the autumn leaves sweeping. 
I see hack on die plain of my life— 
When tny soul sat in purple and gold, 
And in clusters the red r09es hung 
Where (litre’s now but the dead leaves and mold. 
A shimmer of clustering hair 
Swept hack hy the wind’s careless fingers, 
And a radiance soft, as the morning’s first light 
'Hound her brow like a pure balo lingers. 
Oh I sweet, sainted mother of mine, 
Dost thou come in thy beauty to bless, 
When we see thro’ a twilight of tears, 
And the land lies in sorrow * caress. 
When at noontide a shadow of pain— 
Like mist on the mountain-tops lying— 
Moans out on the air a whispered refrain 
That the summer in anguish is dying. 
This dying of heart and of soul i 
This anguish that comes not from frowns, 
When go our fair-haired boys 1'rOtn us 
And take from onr live* their crowns— 
While we ask ourselves in these August days, 
That from us our jewels are robbing, 
If the blood of our boy* must redden the land, 
Ere the Nation heart quicken its throbbing ? 
As I wondered it came to roy heart, 
“There spring from the blood of the brave, 
Glory and Freedom, while Tyranny finds 
It* shroud in a God-freed Slave! 
Tito* under the cloud and thro’ the sea 
Must pas* the soul of the nation, 
The lives of your boys will be brightest of all, 
In Con's casket of Freedom’s Oblation.” 
Like a trophy of faith this prophecy fell, 
As GOD'S prophecies ever fall— 
And my mother whispered. “My child fear not, 
For your Christ it over all." 1 
Hiildale Farm, Tomp. Co., N. Y., 1863. 
A HOSPITAL PICTURE. 
HOW OUR SOLDIERS LIVE AND DIE. 
In a recent number of the Boston Common- 
wealth we Ond the following sketch of a scene in 
one of the army hospitals at Washington, from 
women have a way of doing such things comfort- ache as it did then, since my mother called me 
ably so I leave it to you. He won’t last more to watch the departure of a spirit akin to this, in 
than a day or two at furthest'’ its gentleness and patient strength. As I went 
I could have sat down on the spot and cried in. John stretched out both hands, 
heartily, if I had not learned the wisdom of hot- -1 knew you’d come! I guess I’m moving on. 
fDng up one’s tears for leisure moments. Such ma'am." 
an end seemed very hard for such a man, when He was. and so rapidly that even while he 
half a dozen worn-out, worthless bodies round spoke, over his face I saw the gray veil falling, 
him were gathering up the remnants of wasted that no human hand can lift. I sat. down by 
lives to linger on lor years, perhaps burdens to him, wiped the drops from his forehead, stirred 
others daily reproaches to themselves. The the air with the slow wave of a fan, and waited 
army needed men like John, earnest, brave and to help him die. He stood in sore need ol help, 
faithful, fighting for liberty and justice with both and I could do so little; for, as the doctor had 
heart and band, a true soldier of the Lord. I foretold, the strong body rebelled against death, 
could not give him up so soon, or think with any and fought every inch of the way, forcing him 
patience of 60 excellent a nature robbed of its to draw each breath with a spasm, and clench 
fulfillment, and blundered into eternity by the his hands with an imploring look, as if he asked, 
rashness or stupidity of those at whose hands so “How long must I endure this, and be still!” 
many lives may he required. It was an easy For hours he suffered dumbly, without a rno- 
thing for Dr. P_to say. “Tell bim he must mem’s murmuring. His limbs grew cold, his 
die." but a cruelly bard thing to do. and by no face damp, his lips white, and again he tore the 
means as “comfortable’’ as be politely suggested, covering off his breast, as ii the lightest weight 
I had not the heart to do it then, and privately added to his agony; yet, through it all, his eyes 
indulged the hope that some change for the bet- never lost their perfect serenity, and the man’s 
ter might take place, in spite of gloomy prophe- soul seemed to sit therein, undaunted by the ills 
sies, so rendering my task unnecessary. that vexed his flesh. 
A SHORT AND SIMPLE STORY. SOLDIERLY SYMPATHY. 
After that night, an hour of each evening that One by one the men awoke, and around the 
remained to him was devoted to his ease or room appeared a circle of pale faces and watch- 
pleasure. He could not talk much, for breath f u l eyes, full of awe and pity; for, though a 
was precious, and he spoke in whispers, hut from stranger, John was beloved by all. Each man 
occasional conversation I gleaned scraps of prl- there had wondered at his patience, respected 
vate history which only added to the affection his piety, admired his fortitude, and now la- 
and respect I felt for him. Once he asked me to mented his hard death; for the influence of an 
write a letter, and as I settled pen and paper I upright nature hud made itself deeply felt, even 
said, with an irrepressible glimmer of female in one little week. Presently the Jonathan who 
curiosity 80 ,oved thi ® comcl y Davi(1 cain0 weeping from 
“ Shall* it be addressed to wife, or mother 2” his bed for a last look and word. ^ The kind soul 
“Neither ma’am; I've got no wife, and will was full of trouble, as the. choke in his voice, the 
write to mother myself when I get better. Did grasp of his hand betrayed; but there were no 
you think I was married because of this ?” he tears, and the farewell of the lriends was the 
asked, touching a plain ring he wore, and often more touching for its brevity, 
turned thoughtfully on his linger when he lay “Old boy, how are you?" ft 
alone “ MOBt through, thank Heat 
“ Partly that, but more from a settled sort of other, 
look you have—a look which young men seldom “Can Isay or do anytt 
have until they marry.” wheres?” 
“ I didn’t know that, but I'm not so very young, “ Takelmy things home, ai 
ma'am—thirty in May—and have been what you did my best” 
call settled this Urn years, for mother’s a widow. “I will! I will!” 
I am the oldest child she has, and it wouldn’t do “ Good-bye, Ned.” 
for me to marry till Lizzie hasa home of her own, “ Good-bye, John, good-by 
and Laurie’s learned his trade; for we’re not They kissed each other t 
1 rich, and I must be father to the children, and and so parted; for poor Nec 
husband to the dear old woman, ifl can.” see his comrade die. For i 
“No doubt you are both, John, yet how came was no sound iu the room bu 
von to go to the war. if you felt so ? Wasn’t en- from a stump or two. and Job 
listing as bad as marrying ?” as he slowly breathed his lifi 
“No ma’am, not as *1 see it: for one is helping him nearly gone, and had jus 
1 my neighbor, the other pleasing myself. I went believing its help to be. no lo 
1 because I couldn’t help it. I didn't want the suddenly he rose up in his 
m 
the pen of Miss Louisa M. Alcott, of Concord, glory or t ] 10 J)a y t j wanted the right thing done, 
who performs the duties of a nurse : and peo ple kept saying the men who were in 
DAVID AND JONATHAN. 
One evening I found a lately emptied bed 
occupied by a large, fair man, with a fine face 
and the serenest eyes 1 ever met. One of the 
earlier comers often spoke of a friend who re¬ 
mained behind, that those apparently worse 
wounded than himself might reach shelter firFt 
It seemed a David-and-.Jonat.han sort of friend¬ 
ship. The man fretted for his mate, and was 
never tired of praising John, his courage, so¬ 
briety. self-denial and unfailing kindliness of 
heart, always winding up with:— 1 •He’s an out and 
out fine feller, ma'am, you see if he oint.” 1 had 
some curiosity to behold this piece of excellence, 
and when he came, watched him for a night or 
two before I made friends with him; for, to tell 
the truth, I was a little afraid of the stately-look- 
ing man whose bed had to be lengthened to 
accommodate his commanding stature, who 
seldom spoke, uttered no complaint, asked no 
sympathy, but tranquilly observed what went on 
about him; and. as he lay high upon his pillows, 
no picture of dying statesman or warrior was 
ever fuller of real dignity than this Virginia 
blacksmith. 
NO HOPE. 
A most attractive face he had; framed in 
brown hair and beard, comely-leatured and full 
of vigor as yet unsubdued by pain, thoughtful 
and often beautifully mild while watching the 
afflictions of others, as if entirely forgetful of his 
own. His mouth was grave and firm, with 
plenty of will and courage in its lines, but a smile 
could make it sweet as any woman's; and his 
eyes, looking one fairly in the face, with a clear, 
straight-forward glance, which promised well for 
such as placed their faith in him. He seemed to 
cling to life as if it were rich in duties and de¬ 
lights, and he had learned the secret of content. 
The only time I saw his composure disturbed 
was when niy surgeon brought another to exam¬ 
ine John: he scrutinized their faces with an 
anxious look, asking of the elder. 
•• Do you think I shall pull it through, Sir v” 
“ 1 hope so, my man.” 
And as the two passed on, John’s eyes still 
followed them with an intenseness which would 
have won a clearer answer from them had they 
seen it. A momentary shadow flitted over his 
face, then came the usual serenity, as if in that 
brief eclipse he had acknowledged the existence 
of some hard possibility, and, asking nothing. 
. yet hoping all things, left the issue in God’s 
hand, with that submission which is true piety. 
The next night, as I went my rounds with Dr. 
P-, I happened to ask which man in the room 
probably suffered most, and to my great surprise 
he glanced at John. 
•• Every breath he draws is like a stab; for the 
ball pierced the left lung, broke a rib. and did no 
end of damage here and there; so the poor lad 
earnest ought to fight. I was in earnest, the 
Lord knows, but 1 held off as long as 1 could, 
not knowing which was my duty Mother saw 
the case, gave me her ring to keep me steady, 
and said ‘Go;’ so I went," 
A short story aud a simple one, but the man 
and the mother were portrayed better than pages 
of fine writing could have done it. 
A SOLDIER’S PRIDE. 
“ Do you ever regret that you came, when you 
lie here suffering so much?” 
“Never, ma’am. I haven’t helped a great 
deal, but L've shown I was willing to give my 
life, and perhaps I've got to. But 1 don’t blame 
anybody, and if it was to do over again, I’d do 
it. I'm a little sorry 1 wasn't wounded in f’ront. 
It looks cowardly to be hit in the back, but 1 
obeyed orders, and it don’t matter in the end. I 
know.” 
Poor John! it did not matter now, except that 
a shot in front might have spared the long agony 
in store for him. He seemed lo read the thought 
that troubled me, as he spoke so hopefully, when 
there was no hope, for he suddenly added: 
■•This is my first battle—do they think it’s to 
be my last?” 
“I’m afraid they do, John.” 
It was the hardest question I had ever been 
called upon to answer: doubly hard with those 
clear eyes fixed on mine, forcing a truthful 
answer by iheir own truth. He seemed a little 
startled at first, pondered over the fateful fact a 
moment, then shook his head, w ith a glance at 
the broad chest out before him. 
"I’m not afraid, but it's difiicult to believe all 
at once. I'm so strong, it don't seem possible for 
such a little wound to kill me.” 
THE LAST LETTER. 
“Shall I write to your mother now?" 1 asked, 
thinking that these sudden tidings might change 
all plans and purposes; but they did not; for the 
man received the order of the Divine Commander 
to march, with the same unquestioning obedience 
with which the soldier had received that of the 
human one. doubtless remembering that the first 
led him Ui life, the last to death. 
•’No, ma'am; to Laurie just the same; he'll 
lrreak it to her best, and I’ll add a line to her 
myself? when you get done.” 
So I wrote the letter which he dictated, finding 
it better than any I had sent, for, though here 
and there a little ungrammatical or inelegant, 
each sentence came to me briefly worded, but 
most expressive, full of excellent counsel to the 
boy. tenderly bequeathing “ mother and Lizzie " 
to his care, and bidding him good-bye in words 
the sadder lor their simplicity. He added a few 
lines with steady hand, and as I sealed it, said, 
with a patient sort of sigh, “I hope the answer 
will come iu time for me to see it;” then, turn- 
can find neither forgetfulness nor ease, because I ing away his face, laid the flowers against his 
he must lie on his wounded back or suffocate. 
It will be a hard struggle, and a long one, for he 
possesses great vitality, but even his temperate 
life can’t save him. I wish it could.” 
•• Yon don’t mean he must die, doctor ?” 
•• Bless you. there is not the slightest hope tor 
him, and you'd better tell him so before long— 
lips, as if to hide some quiver of emotion at the 
thought of such a sundering of all the dear home 
ties. 
These things had happened two days before. 
Now, John was dying, and the letter had not 
come. I had been summoned to many death¬ 
beds in my life, but to none that made my heart 
“ Old boy, how are yon?” faltered the one. 
“MoBt through, thank Heaven!” whispered the 
other. 
“Can i say or do anything for you any- i 
wheree?” 1 
« Takejmy things home, and tell them that I 
did my beak” 1 
“I will! I will!” £ 
“ Good-bye, Ned.” 
“Good-bye, John, good-bye.” ] 
They kissed each other tenderly as women, t 
and so parted; for poor Ned could not stay to . 
see his comrade die. For a little while there 
was no sound iu the room but the drip of water ; 
from a stump or two, and John's distressful gasps 
as he slowly breathed his life away. I thought : 
him nearly gone, and had just laid down the fan, 
believing Its help to be no longer needed, when 
suddenly he rose up in his bed. and cried out 
with a bitter cry that broke the silence, sharply 
startling every one with its agonized appeal:— ; 
“ For God’s sake, give me air!” 
It was the only cry pain or death had wrung , 
from him. the ojiy boon he had asked, and none 
of us could grant it, for all the airs that blew 
were useless now. Dan flung up the window, 
the first red streak of dawn was warming the 
gray ea«t, a herald of the coming sun. John 
saw it. and w-tb the love of light which lingers 
in us 10 the 'Vid, seemed to read in it a sign of 
hope of heaven, for over his whole face there 
broke that mysterious expression, brighter by 
far than any smile, which often comes to eyes 
that look their lost. ,IIu laid himself gently 
down, and stretching out his strong right arm. as 
if to grasp and bring the blessed air to hi? lips 
in fuller flow, lapsed into a merciful unconscious¬ 
ness. which assured us that for bim suffering 
was forever past. 
As we stood looking at him, the ward-master 
handed me a letter, saying it had been forgotten 
ihe night before. It was John's letter, come just 
an hour too late to gladden the eyes that had 
looked and longed for it so eagerly—yet he had 
it; for after I bad cut some brown locks for bis 
mother, and taken off the ring to send her, tell¬ 
ing how well the talisman had did its work, I 
kissed this good son for her sake, and laid the 
letter in his hand, still folded as when I drew 
my own away. 
PLEASURE. 
Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure 
fora child! for there is no saying when and where 
it may again bloom forth. Does not everybody 
remember some kind-hearted man who showed 
him a kindness in the quiet days of his childhood? 
Thewriter of this re collects himself at this moment 
a? a barefooted lad. .'andiug at the wooden fence 
of a poor little garden in his native village: with 
longing eyes he gazed on the flowers which were 
blooming there quiet on the brightness of a Sun¬ 
day morning. The possessor came forth from his 
little cottage—be was a wood-cutter by trade—and 
spent the whole week at his work in the woods. 
He had come into hi? garden to gather flowers to 
stick in his coat when he went to church. He 
saw the boy. and breaking off the most beautiful 
of his carnations—it was streaked with red and 
white—gave, it to him. Neither the giver nor 
the receiver spoke a word; and with bounding 
steps the boy ran home; and now, here is a vast 
distance between that home, after -omanyevents 
of so many years, the feeling of gratitude which 
agitated the’ breast of that boy expresses itself 
on paper. The carnation has long since with¬ 
ered, bur it now blooms afresh.— Douglas Jenold. 
A ^ — ■ 
How to be Miserable.— Think about your¬ 
self; about what you want, what you like, what 
respect people ought to pay to you, what people 
ihink of yon. and then to yon nothing will be 
pure. Y'ou will spoil everything you touch; you 
will make sin and misery for yourself out of 
evervthing God sends you; you will be as 
wretched as you choose. 
Well managed faults often make a better fig¬ 
ure than ill managed virtues. 
A SUBSTITUTE'S OFFER. 
Mr. Pilkinson, a small farmer in Pennsylva¬ 
nia, was sometime ago drafted for the service of his 
country. His wife, though she possessed but a 
small stock of general information, is one of the 
best conjugal partners, and she is much troubled 
at the thought of parting with her husband. 
The other day, as she was engaged scrubbing 
ofi' her door-step?, a rough-looking man came 
up and thus addressed her: 
“I heard, ma’am, that your husband has been 
drafted.” 
“Yes sir, he has,” answered Mrs. Pilkinson, 
“though dear knows there is few men that 
couldn’t have better been spared from their fam¬ 
ilies.” 
“Well, ma’am. I’ve come to offer myself as a 
substitute forhim.” 
“ A what?” asked Mrs. Pilkinson, with some ex¬ 
citement. 
“I amwillingto take his place,” said thestran- 
ger. 
“You take the place of my husband, you 
wretch! I ll teach yon to insult a distressed 
woman in that way, you vagabond! ” cried Mrs. 
Pilkinson, as she discharged the dirty soap¬ 
suds in the face of the discomfited and aston¬ 
ished substitute, who took to his heels just in 
time to escape having bis head broken by the heavy 
bucket. 
PR E NTI CE ANA. 
We have got the rebel Confederacy down, but 
we must not think that the danger is past. We 
should remember that a shark bites best when he 
is fiat on his back. 
Tjie rebels like the greenbacks well enough, 
but they have a great horror of the bluebacks. 
The Richmond Inquirer says that the rebels 
must reduce their expenses. Yes, but we will 
reduce their cities and forts for them. 
The stars upon the rebel flag are a miserable 
burlesque of the lights of heaven. That flag is 
an ill-starred concern. 
We judge from the rebel newspapers that St 
Paul’s injunction to “ die daily ” is misprinted In 
the Southern Confederacy’s Bible “lie daily.” 
Abucutiscmcnts. 
M aplewood took ladies- institute, pnt s . 
field, Mass., commences its 45th semi-annual session 
October 1,1863. . [TU-st] 
Address Rev C. V. SPEAR, the principal, for Circulars. 
TjATENTS — In the U.viTKD States, F-JOiLASD, and 
1 Fka.vck. oVamed on the most fav .r.tlne terras, at the 
Western N. Y. Patent Agency at Ftocbe-t-r ami Butt a t 0 
N.Y- iril-4t] _ .1, nivSK R ACo ' 
ryiiiE AMERICAN HOG TAMER.—This instrument 
JL of such practical importance to all Pork growers — 
from the Tact that its operation entirely prevents a jj. 
mal from rootimr. rtie-lifting. —may ti«d hr remit¬ 
ting S3 to the subscriber. County right* algo for sale. 
;m-13tj L. STEDUAN. Agent, 
Batar,*, Uent-rr-e Co , X y 
DULBS FOB FALL PLANTISt, 
>IvILLUSTRATED DESCRIPTIVE BULB CATALOGUE 
for the Autumn of LOSS. t* now published an-i Trill ho ,ent 
free to all who apply by mail. It contains a list of the I est 
Hyacinths. Caocrstts. Trr-tP*, Csow.-r I* primal*, Syotr 
B.u.r Limes. See . with pir-eg [,U] 
Address, JAMES VICK. R- cheater, X 
LTHriT TREES, (.RAPE V1NES,L(L 
J3 Wiil hp found at the Seneca Co. N ivM-rtcs a choice 
lot of Vmit Tr»e«, which will be sold Cheap. 1 h.v•• r n 
hand 100.1*0 Apple Ticca, 3 and * years eld; 2oOoo Pima 
Trees: 25.000 Standard and Dwarf IVar Trees All ot which 
are in fine- order. Also, ll.t.iV'" 2 year old Delaware Grape 
Vines: 31,000 1 year old do. Russell’s Strawberry pUr.u, 
25 for SZMi, BO for $4 >X): 109 for Of*00. Tut upin good „rder 
and sent ae directed. I hare a good assortment of Trees, 
Grape Vine" and Flowers, such as a re usually kept hy nnr- 
serTmen. which I would invite those wishing to purchase 
to call and examine for themselves. Located a short dis¬ 
tance North of the Depot, in Waterloo. N \ . 
[7n-3t] E. TAYLOR, Proprietor. 
\ I ASON Sc PI -A. TS/T 3L11ST 3 S 
(Storne* frnv tit* fjsiwij 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CHEMICAL ENIGMA. 
1 am composed of 46 letters. 
My 27, 2, 25, 4 is air in motion. 
My 3, IS, 17, 37, SS, 39 is one of the precious metals. 
My 9, 15, 33, 6, 41, 25, 26 is pure carbon. 
My 13, 5, 43, 7, 23, 29 is a poisonous mineral from the 
concentrated fumes of ivhic my 28, 39, 3, 20,12, 
44, 40, a well known poison is made. 
My 3, 6, 28,17,10 is a kind of pulv erized glass used for 
dyeing. 
My 8, 2, 16, 31, 18, 10, 7, 40, 44,9 is composed of niter and 
sulphuric acid. 
My 1, 7, 29, 46, 31 i- a well known fluid composed of oxy¬ 
gen aud hydrogen. 
My 32, 24. 23, 21, 42, 14, 17 is a drug composed of mercu¬ 
ry and chlorine. 
My 25, 32, 20, 29, 22,13, S3,10, 2, 4 is the scientific name 
for vinegar. 
My 10, 28, 89, 43, II, 35,15, 40, 7, 32, 22 is a poisonous gas 
generated from burning charcoal. 
My 34, 2, 40, 19, 30, 23 with zinc and copper forms Ger¬ 
man silver. 
My 10, 22. 45, 35. 23, 43, 24, 01 is a compound of mercury 
and sulphur, and when reduced to a fine powder, forms 
the well-known pigment, vermillion. 
My 44, 41, 26,18, 45, 36 is sometimes obtained from the 
ashes of marine vegetables. 
My whole all ought to remember. 
Rockton. Ill., 1803. E. W. Hicks. 
Answer in two weeks. 
For the Rural New-Yorker. 
POETICAL ENIGMA. 
I am in the men, but not in the boys. 
I am iu the playthings, but not in the toys. 
1 am in the north, but not in the south. 
I atn in the nose, but not in the mouth. 
1 am in the minister, but not in his hat. 
1 am in the kitten, but not in the eat. 
1 am in the barn, hut not in the floor. 
1 am in the window, but not in the door. 
I am in the connty, but not in the state. 
I am in the pencil, but not in the slate. 
Cold Brook, N. Y., 186S. J. G. Benso.v. 
£3^” Answer in two weeks. 
• For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AN ANAGRAM. 
Nvje to-ayd hsa nebe iinnndbug 
Lai bet byaetti fo lire raih; 
Teh urpe crafregna fo reh ssseert 
Loftsn groutbii lal bet lodgen rai, 
Nad bet gnnsseeer fo Ure trameng 
Slie baotu sn weeeeyrrhv. 
Randolph, Catt. Co., N. Y., 1563. 
cr Answer in two weeks. 
4 . M. G. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, &c., IN No. 710. 
Answer to ornithological Enigma: 
“An eagle, towering in his pride of place. 
Was, by a mousing owl, hawked at and killed. 
Answ er to Miscellaneous Enigma:—The Practical Shep¬ 
herd. 
Answer to Anagram: 
’Tis well to walk with a cheerful heart, 
Wherever our fortune call, 
With a friendly glance and an open hand, 
Aud a gentle word for all. 
Since life is a thorny and difficult path, 
Where toil is the portion of man, 
We all should endeavor while passing along, 
To make it as smooth as we can. 
Answer to Anagrams of Lakes:—Nicaragua, Coleguape, 
De Los Patos. Eneenillas, Lanquen. Pontchartrain, Um- 
saskis, Manitouline. 
YJ ^ S OIsT Sc PI jS/lXjTINT 3 S 
CA.BHSTET ORG-AlSrs. 
Paleultd October 21, 1862. 
THE CABINET ORGANS are pronounced by artist, "the 
best of their kind iu the world; —and "very admirable 
lor both private and public ure ” [See written testimony 
from more than one iicxdrsd of the most eminent organ¬ 
ists of the lea! tie cities! MaStin * HaMLINs instrument* 
.-.-n- received the on! Goto M dal ever wic led in ■ 
country,—also liLHvr’y sh.vkp. Mkpai.?, mid fourteen Hi- 
plomas, in all twenty-six First Premium*.—over all com¬ 
petitors. „ ... 
Prices of Coblm-t Organs, [rnsnafacttired solely by Masox 
& Hamux.J $70 to £ooi). MelodeoD* $flJ to SITU¬ 
S' B- Instructor* for the Cabinet Organ.—also arrange¬ 
ment. of music for the wac, nre published by M. 
*.* Illustrated Catalogues sontbr moil 
Address •* MASOX IIaMUv Boston," nr "Mason- Beo- 
TtiKKS, New York." 1711-171) 
A5A6E ORANGE PLANTS—For this Fall only at fs 
V ) per 1,000. The usual discount to the trade. 
THOMAS MEEHAN. Nurseryman. 
1710-61] Germantown, Pa. 
f~' I DllK All 1,1, SCREWS.—We are making the 
CHSaIBBT A?P titter CIDER MILL -CREWS is THE 
world. Whole leugtb. 4 feet. Length of thread, S>« feet 
Diameter of ecrew. t inches. Weight, including nut, 123 
pounds, price, $9.00 ench Address, 
[710-tfJ COWING A CO., benecu falls, V 
YTB 8 ERI STOCK FOR SALE. 
* 10,000 StaxpaRD Pkar?, ai 'Tored Tar.e:te-. 
80,O0«l Dwarf do. 
Itt.ooo Cherries. 
'A.(MM) Peaches. 
10,000 .tppleo, 4 years. 
Also, Grape Vines and small Fruits. 
This atocK will be sold low to close, and there never has 
been n tree selected from it. Propagated from choice im¬ 
ported stock. E. KETCHAM, Agkxt. 
(710-ttj Tompkin’s Hotel, Geneva, N. Y. 
rpHE ILLINOIS STATE PAIE POE 1863, 
WILL BB Uh’LD AT 
DECATUR. MAC OX COIATY, 
Commencing on Monday, September 28th, 
AND CONTINUING ONE WEEK. 
THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE arc gratified in being able 
to announce to the people of the Northwest ihat the gen¬ 
eral arrangement* for holding the Annual Exhibition have 
never been no re eutlroly complete and -at^factory than 
8 Vbe central and accessible lOcatioa—the bou-iiy and con¬ 
venience of the grounds for both Fob and crimping pur¬ 
poses tpr focal pride and energy of ll.e Cltuons of Macon 
coutttr, v. h i nre erecting building, and fixtures <4 tnst.-ful 
and pet u tntn*. character the liberality amt hgartr co¬ 
operation of railroad com panics throughout the Mate, to¬ 
gether with the interest felt and tnani'.esled ou all hatnl- 
In the improvement of Uhor-.aving machinery, mo'te.n: 
Urm 'ul'.ur*-, am! stock—nil combine to give aosuraucethat 
this Fair wUl be stmcewful not onlr !r. nltmoling large 
iHimbersnf our pet,pie to witufsaPd engage in tb* •:< mpeU- 
tions, but eminently SO in point of substantial usefulness 
to the cause of AoRICPLTCRR, EoRTKTLTCRB. and the ME¬ 
CHANIC and HorsKHOLb Arts. 
THE FIELD TRIAL OF 
Plows, Cultivators, Harrows, Ditching Ma¬ 
chines, &c, 
Will commence near Decatur on Monday. Sept. fist, the 
week preceding the Fair. Manufacturers will comer a 
favor and enable the Board to make the best possible pre¬ 
parations for tuiaTrial bv notifyiuJT the Corresponding ?• - 
retary a* early is possible of their mteotton to compste 
Wool Growers' Convention. 
It is tbougbT best by many friends that a WOOL GROW¬ 
ER.?’ CON V BN Til IN be held during tno F atr - the prectse 
time to be announced in the papers and programme of the 
day. after con.ultAlioo among.these representing tE:spar¬ 
ticular interest. 
Evening Meetings. 
The Society's Tent will be erected on the Public Snuai? 
in the citv for the accommodation M eueh Convention, asa 
Farmer- Meetings for discussion 
Time for Entries. 
Entries for the Fair may be made at p.ny time on or be- 
En tri e s fo r the *^RIA L OF IMPLEMENTS maybe made 
at any time before Tuesday, tsept. I5tb- 
Premium Lists containing the Rules and Regula¬ 
tions will he sent to all applicant. 
Address JOHN P. REYNOLDS 
Cor. Sec y 111. State Agr 1 ! Society, 
[7!0-5t] Springfie ld, Illinois. 
OEST FAMILY 3EWING MAOHiIe. 
D WHEE1.ER A WILSON 
MANUFACTURING CO. were awarded the First Premium 
at the Great International Exhibition, London, loo-. 
Principal Office, 505 Broadway, N- Y. 
MA 8. W. DIB BLE, Agent, Rochester, S. V- 
MOOKE’S RURAL NEW-YORKER, 
tab largest circulated 
Agricultural, Literary aud Family Newspaper, 
IS rCBLISHED SVERT SATURDAY BY 
D. D. T. MOORE, ROCHESTER, N. Y. 
Office, Union Buildings, Opposite the Court House, Buffalo Si, 
T£j*-ns, IJY jnvjjycje! 
Two Dollars a Year-To Clubs and Agents as fohous- 
Three Copies one year, for U>; Six, and one free --- - 
agent, for $ 10 ; feu, and one flee, for $ 1 M ■ r ‘ lld * ■ ' '' 
number at same rate—only $1-50 per cvro- ' 
directed to individuals and sent to as manr mtlere ’ 
Offices as desired. As we pre-pay American i • 
copies sent abroad. $1.62 is the lowest Club rate for 
and $2.50 to Europe-but during the P«.ent nUe W ^ 
change, Canada Agents or Subsonoer. ro/mtUng 
Rural tn telle of their own specie-caving oanas 
charged rostage . 
adsfre to Terms.- We endeavor toacbera rtngy 
subscription terms, and no per, oh u “ 
Rural <u test than pttbtuhcd rates. Ag roralss 
are at liberty to give as many °® pl * ” do ^ otw -; E i 
they are disposed to pay for at club rate, bu 
the paper offered, iu any case, belowpr.ee. 
The Postage on the Rural N W -Yo^:xr is onlT^_ 
per qinarttr to any part of this state, exce,> ^ 
tv, where it goes free,) and the tome to pother 
State, if paid quarterly in advance where re-e ^ 
Direct tg Rochester, N. T.-^ll persons ho«u« dit#e t 
don to address the Rural S’EW-k orkkk, w 
to Roche,ter. N. L. *od uot, as many dv, to ^ 
i- Albany, Buffalo, fcc. Money Letters mtended to r 
ireduently directed and mafled to the above place . 
