ed, for as the fall advanced Mr. Huntington grew 
worse, and to the other labors of his family was 
added the task of ministering to him and providing 
for his wants. 
As yet no rent for the cottage had been paid, and 
Miss Elinor, when she remembered the ugly name 
which Adelaide bad called her, secretly wished she 
might be turned into the street. But her brother 
was more forgiving, aDd when Alice's nineteenth 
birthday came he gave her the Brown House in the 
Hollow, telling her playfally that she must collect 
the rent of her own property' 
“ And I would do it, too,” spoke up Miss Elinor, 
who, nevertheless, was jnst as sure then of what 
Alice intended to do as she was next morning when 
she saw upon her sister’s writing desk a receipt in 
full for the rent, and heard that sister bid a servant 
take it with sundry other things to the Brown House 
in the Hollow as a New Year’s Gift from her! 
Sure ’tis more blessed to give than to receive, and 
the prayer which the sick man breathed for Alice 
Howland was worth far more to her than the paltry 
sum which she had lost by doing what 6he did. Ade¬ 
laide, too, was softened, for the pangs of poverty 
were beginning to be keenly felt, and when the serv¬ 
ant turned to go, she said to him with quivering lips, 
“ Tell Mrs. Howland that 1 thank her !” 
own heart were charred and blistered with its load 
of guilt, and shame. There were no more trips to 
Springfield now, for concealment of labor was no 
longer necessary, and the satchel Miss Elinor taunt¬ 
ed her brother with having carried so often lay use¬ 
less upon the closet shelf. 
“ I’ll die before I’ll do that—father may support 
ns,” Adelaide had said when her mother suggested 
that they take in sewing from Mr. Howland’s store. 
And Mr. Huntington dul do his be6t towards 
maintaining hi6 family, but popular opinion was 
against hhn. He had defrauded bis employer once 
—he might do- so again—and so all looked upon 
him with distrust, making it sometimes very hard 
for him to procure even the common necessaries of 
life. His health, too, had become impaired, both by 
exposure and the mental anguish he had so long en¬ 
dured, and night after night his labored breathing 
and hacking cough smote painfully on the car of his 
wife, whose love no circumstances could destroy. 
One morning, towards the middle of February, he 
left them as usual, but was soon brought back with 
a broken limb, which he had received from a fall 
upon the ice. For Mm to work was now impossi¬ 
ble, and Adelaide no longer objected when her 
mother proposed that Begot should be sent for sew¬ 
ing to Mr. Howland, who gave it to her readily, 
manifesting much concern for Mr. Huntington, 
whom Peggy represented as being in a most de¬ 
plorable condition. 
Two or three days afterwards as he was leaving 
the store he received a message from the sick man, 
who wished to see him, and in a short time he stood 
at the bedside of Mr. Huntington, who told, in a 
few words, why he had been sent for. 
"They could not keep that house,—they must 
rent a cheaper one, and if no tenant for the Brown 
House in the- Hollow bad been obtained, would Mr. 
Howland let him have it ? he would try hard when 
he got well to pay the rent,” and the strong man's 
eyes filled with tears just as little Alice Warren’s 
had done when similar words escaped her lips. 
“ Yes, be could have it,” Mr. Howland said, and 
the sum he asked for it was just what Mr. Warren 
had paid,—then fearing lest Adelaide by chance 
should enter the room, he hastened away, ponder¬ 
ing upon the changes which a few short weeks had 
brought to the haughty girl, who, when she heard 
of her father’s arrangement, flew into a violent rage, 
declaring she would “ kill herself before she’d live 
in that little shanty.” 
But neither her wrath nor yet her tears could 
shake her father’s determination, and when the first 
April sun was set, and the warm spring moon was 
risen, wretched, hopeless and weary, Adelaide 
Huntington crept up to her bed beneath the raft¬ 
ers, covering her head with the sheet, lest she 
should see the white-haired, sightless specter, 
which, to her disordered fancy, seemed haunting 
that low-roofed dwelling. 
chiding the cheek boy for moving too fast, and the 
head clerk for moving too slow,—refusing to trust 
the widow Simpson, whom he had trusted all his 
life, and making himself so generally disagreeable 
that the young men in his employ were not sorry 
when, about 5 o’clock, they saw him start for home. 
“ I’m glad he’s gone, any way, darn him,” mut¬ 
tered Check, who Lad been, perhaps, the greatest 
sufferer, and with a most contemptuous whistle he 
looked after the retreating figure of his master. 
Alice was not in the yard,—not in the parlor,— 
not in the house. He knew it by that undeflnable 
feeling which we experience when the one we love 
the best is absent. “ She had gone to walk by the 
river," so Miss Elinor said, when questioned, ask¬ 
ing him in the same breath why he didn’t come 
home to dinner. 
“ 1 was not hungry,” he replied. “ The prospect 
of losing Alice has taken my appetite away. Do 
you think she would stay with us, if I were to adopt 
her as my daughter V” 
Miss Elinor didn't think anything. She had not 
quite forgiven his unjust remark in the morning, 
and failing to obtain satisfaction from her, he start¬ 
ed in quest of Alice, who, he was sure, would listen 
favorably to his plan of adoption. The tree where 
she and her father Eat on that afternoon when she 
had come so near to death, was her favorite resort, 
and here he now found her thinking of the coming 
time when she should he gone. It had cost her a 
struggle to decide the matter, but it was best, she 
thought; she could not always be dependent, and 
that very night she would answer “ yes.’’ But why 
that sigh, fair Alice ? Is it that you so much dread 
to leave Miss Elinor, or has the brother won a place 
within your heart? She conld not tell. She only 
knew that when she thought of leaving Mr. How¬ 
land the paiu was harder to hear. 
“I shall miss them both so much,” she nncon¬ 
sciously said aloud, “1 shall miss them both—but 
him the most.” 
‘‘ Why then do yon go V” came to her startled ear, 
and Richard Howland stood before her. 
Springing to her feet she blushed and stammered 
out something about the watch dog Pot do whom she 
should miss! But it would not do. Mr. Howland 
was not to be deceived, and in her tell-tale face he 
knew the watch dog 1‘outo meant himself! 
“ Alice,” he said, “ sit down with rne upon the 
bank and tell me why you wish to leave ns.” 
Alice obeyed, but neither of them spoke until 
Mr. Howland, growing suddenly very bold, wound 
his arm around her waist and drew her to his side. 
’Twas the first time in his life he had ever found 
himself in a position like this, and though it was 
very novel,—very strange,— he liked d ; he forgot, 
too, all about the adoption , and bending low, so that 
in case of an emergency his lips coidd touch her 
cheek, he whispered, “Alice- ” 
But what else he said the murmuring river never 
told, neither the summer air which lifted the golden 
tresses falling o’er his arm, uor yet the little bird, 
which from the overhanging bough looked archly 
down upon them, shutting its round, bright eyes 
with a knowing look as if it understood that, scene. 
It did understand, and the sight of them sitting 
there thus brought to mind the dainty nest up in 
the maple tree where its own loved mate was wait¬ 
ing, and when at last the maiden lifted up her head, 
it plumed its wings for flight and flew away, singing 
as it flew, “ She's won—she’s won .” 
That Uigjit instead of Mr. Howland, was 
missing fi*jm the table, and when Miss Elinor 
sought her in her room, she was surprised at the 
abruptness with which the young girl threw her 
arms around her neck and whispered, "lam happy, 
—oh, so happy.” 
Then, with the twilight shadows gathering around, 
Alice told her story to the wondering lady, who in 
her joy forgave her brother for his unjust insinua¬ 
tion, and folding the orphan girl lovingly within 
her arms, she told her how gladly she should wel¬ 
come her as a sister. It was known ere long all over 
town that the wealthy Mr. Howland was to wed 
the blind man’s daughter, and the rude brown raft¬ 
ers of the cottage in the Hollow ne’er witnessed so 
fierce a Etorm of passion and of tears, as on the night 
when first to Adelaide came tidings that the man 
she s© much loved had given himself to another. To 
William Huntington, however, the news brought 
joy and gladness. He had recovered from his broken 
limb, hut his health did not improve, and now he 
seldom left his home. Still, he did whatever he 
could do for his family, and the little yard in front 
of his house was filled with flowers, which he tend¬ 
ed with the utmost care and sold in small bouquets 
to such of the villagers as wished to buy. When he 
heard that Alice was to be a bride ere the summer 
days were gone, be set apart bis choicest flowers, 
watching them with jealous care and experiencing a 
childish delight in thinking how he would form a 
rare bouquet, worthy of her to whom it should be 
given. 
There was no reason why the marriage should he 
delayed, Mr. Howland said, and so one balmy eve, 
when the harvest moon was in its infancy, St. Luke’s 
Church was filled to overflowing, and the same man 
who, over III go Warren’s grave had read the burial 
service, now spoke the solemn words which made 
one flesh of two. And when the rite was ended and 
Alice was a bride, from the three towers of Oakland 
there rang a merry peal, for Mr. Howland was 
greatly honored by the citizens who thus would 
keep his wedding night. 
Across the grassy meadow, up the wooded hill, 
and down into the Hollow, floated the music of 
those bells, awakening an answering note of joy in 
every heart &ave that of the wretched Adelaide, 
who, grinding her teeth together, tied to her lonely 
garret and stuffed cotton in her ears, so as to shut 
out the hateful sound, which told her of her rival’s 
happiness. Anon, and from the rocky heights which 
overlooked the town, and from the village green, 
there shown a lurid light. Bonfires had been kin¬ 
dled by the workmen from the factory and shop, 
and among the boys who danced around the blazing 
tire, none threw his hat so high or cut so many 
antics as did the little "check'' who, in his bran 
new suit, the gift of Mr. Howland, forgot his 
grievances on that memorable day when his mas¬ 
ter tried to see how it would seem to live without 
Alice Warren. 
From her window Adelaide looked out upon the 
scene, shedding bitter tears of envy and of rage; 
then wishing she had never seen the light of day, 
she sought her solitary pillow and cried herself to 
sleep, while the song and the dance moved joyously 
on, and the gentle bride, in her robes of white, look¬ 
ed lovingly up to him who was her all in all. Nor 
were the inmates of the Brown House in the Hollow 
forgotten by Alice in her prosperity. From Mr. 
Huntington Ehe had received a beautiful bouquet; 
’twas all save bis blessing that he had to give, he 
said, and Alice prized, it the more when she knew 
how carefully he had watched each opening bud, 
shielding it alike from storm and noon day heat. 
“ I will remember him for this,” she thought, and 
as the days wore on many a timely grift found its 
way to the biown cottage, where it was sorely need¬ 
|bc publisher’s |csli 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
THE NAMELESS DEAD. 
bt therza 
SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENTS, 
Oft in the silent city of the dead, 
I stand and innse beside some nameless grave; 
And wonder who beneath the sod was laid, 
When dust to dnst the weeping mourners gave. 
Metbinks I see a tuaiden fair and frail. 
The roses horn her cheek forever flown. 
Beside her conch there stands a specter pale, 
Poises hie dart, and calls, the inaid big own. 
Or else, perchance, one sleeps beneath the sod, 
To whom the earth seemed beautiful and gay; 
Called early to give back hie soul to God, 
Yielding his manly form to death's decay. 
Oh 1 why should death, all unrelenting, walk 
This earth so clothed in lovely, smiling bloom? 
Why should the living stand beside the dead, 
And children play around the silent tomb ? 
And yet, perhaps, these flowers above the breast 
Of some poor weary, homesick mortal grow; 
Who gladly hailed this long and peaceful rest, 
And found a solace here for all his woe. 
Yes, there’s a rest for all who sadly weep, 
A rest to every weary mortal given, 
While their worn bodies ’neath the green sod sleep, 
Their souls find rest, a perfect rest, in heaven. 
A Trial Trip !—In order to introduce the Rural New- 
Yorker to general notice and support in every section of the 
country, we will send the Thirteen Numbers of this Quarter 
(.Jan. to April,) for only FIFTY CENTS! The numbers 
thus offered will contain more and better reading, illustra¬ 
tions, etc-., than a whole volume of many a monthly which 
costs from $1 to $3. Try the Trial Trip of the Rural, or 
send it to distant friends if you are already a subscriber. 
Additions to Clnbs are always in order, whether in 
ones, twos, fives, tens, or any other number. Many agents, 
after sending one club, form others, and thus secure addi¬ 
tional or larger premiums. A boat of people are dropping 
other papers about these days— many bare already changed 
to the Rural— and our Agent-Friends should Improve every 
occasion to secure such as recruit* for the ” Rural Brigade.” 
Premium List, Show-Bill, Arc. —Our Premiums to 
Club Agents are more liberal than ever before, but we have 
not space to give a list of them in the Rural. Premium Lists, 
Show-Bills, Specimens, dsc., are promptly sent, free. Give us 
your address, and that of any friends disposed to form clubs, 
that all may see our oflers of “ Good Pay for Doing Good.” 
Our Club Rute.— The lowest Club Rate of the Bubal Ib 
>2.50, and If any agents offer it for lesB they must pay ns that 
price. Our rates are invariable, and none are authorized to 
depart from them—though of course we cannotpreventagenta 
from doine so, or even giving away the paper. 
Another year has nearly gone, and from the win¬ 
dows of the cottage there shines a glimmering light, 
while gathered round the hearth three lonely women 
sit. They are now indeed alone,—the bed in the 
corner is empty,— the husband and father is gone. 
When the last May flowers were blooming and the 
voice of spring was on the hills, strong men carried 
him out into the open air, jnst as they carried the 
blind man, and in the village church-yard, not far 
from lit go Warren’s grave, they laid the weary 
down to rest. William Huntington had saved the 
life of Richard Howland's wife, and for this rea¬ 
son his family were not neglected, though Miss 
Eljnor took good care that not enough assistance 
should be given them “ to keep the trollop, Ade¬ 
laide, from working.” 
In Eicuakd Howland's home all is joyous and 
glad, and though the curtains of one room are drop¬ 
ped, and the blinds are closely shut, ’tis only be¬ 
cause the fussy old nurse wili have it so, and not 
because the young mother lying there is is any dan¬ 
ger now. In the rosewood crib there sleeps a sturdy 
boy, aud the bottom of his cambric skirt is trimmed 
with the veritable embroidery which we have often 
seen in the hands of Miss Elinor, who calls herself 
the baby’s “ Aunty ” fifty times a day. 
She had fully expected that it would bear her name, 
but it provide Jtetxoy Trot mod affair, and when the 
Christmas bells arc ringing aud the star of Bethle¬ 
hem gleams on the walls of the old Brick Church, 
she will stand ns sponsor for the little boy. to 
whom, in memory of the blind man now singing 
to the praise of Bethlehem's child, will be given 
the name of “ Warren Howland.” 
Brockport, N, Y. 
Back Number** of this Volume (from Jan. 1) can still he 
supplied, and they are forwarded to 3ll new subscribers un¬ 
less otherwise ordered. 
[Written and Copyrighted tor Vol. X of Moore’s Rural New- 
Yorker, and Republished by Request.] 
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS 
ALICE AND ADELAIDE 
A GENTS WASTED.—AVE WANT FIRST- 
class Agents to introduce our 
new star Shuttle sewing machines. 
Extraordinary inducements to co-od salesmen. Ftirthernar- 
ticulfH’S aud Sample work furnished on application to w. G. 
WILSON At CO.. Cleveland, 0.; Boston,Mass., or St. Louis.Mo. 
BY MRS. MART J. HOLMES. 
[Concluded from page 84, last number.] 
Chapter X, —Revelations. 
“Father,” she exclaimed, “where did you come 
from ?” 
“I came from Mr. Warren’s,” he answered, 
“ He is dead, but I have been forgiven, and can 
once more walk the earth a free and fearless man. 
Adelaide , ” he continued, and in the tone of his 
voice and gleam of his eye there was something 
which made the guilty girl tremble, “ 1 have heard 
that of you which fills me with grief. Oh, my child, 
how could you so shamefully decieve me ?” 
“ What do you mean?” she asked in well-feigned 
surprise, for she would not admit anything until 
she knew how far she was implicated. 
Very briefly her father repeated to her what he 
had heard from Mr. Warren, and then awaited her 
answer. At first she sought, to deny the charge, hut 
she dared not give the lie to one lying dead, not far 
away, so she remained silent, trying in vain to frame 
6 ome excuse with which to appease her father, and 
also to find some way of again binding Alice to 
secrecy, so that Mr. Howland should never hear 
of her falsehoods. He would, perhaps, excuse her 
deception with regard to her father, when she told 
him, as she should do, that she had done it for the 
sake of her mother , who could uot endure to have 
the matter known, and if the rest were kept from 
him all might yet end well. 
At that moment she remcinhered what Begov had 
said, and with a faint voice she asked, “ Does any 
one know this but yourself?” 
“ Mr. Warren’s daughter knows it,” he returned. 
“And the yonng man— Howland is bis name— 
knows it, too, for he was there all night, and heard 
my conversation with Alice.” 
u Mr, Howland!" Adelaide fairly screamed, and 
in the terrified expression of her face, the motive for 
her conduct was revealed to her father, who rather 
enjoyed thau otherwise the passionate tears of anger 
and mortification which she shed at finding herself 
thus betrayed to one whom she had loved as well as 
such as she could love. 
“ 1 understand you perfectly,” said Mr. Hunting- 
ton, advancing towards her as she lay weeping on 
the lounge, “ and your punishment is just, for a 
child who can abuse its father ns you have abused 
me ought never to he the wife of a man like Mr. 
Howland. I will not reproach you farther with 
your guilt,” be coutinued, “ for your sin has found 
you out, and 1 leave you to your own reflections.” 
So saying, he passed on in quest, of his wife, whose 
welcome to the repentant man was far more cordial 
than that of his daughter bad been. Adelaide was, 
indeed, sorely punished, for all hope of winning Mr. 
Howland was gone, and, as tne days wore on, she 
experienced, more and more, that the way of the 
transgressor is hard. 
The story of Mr. Huntington’s existence and re¬ 
turn to his family circulated rapidly, and with it, 
hand in band, weDt the rumor of the wrong he had 
once done to the blind man, who, by the people of 
Oakland, was honored more in death than he had 
been in life, for they came in crowds to his funeral, 
gazing pityingly at the white face of the dead, and 
then staring enriousiy at the dark-browed stranger, 
who was said to be William Huntington. Ade¬ 
laide was not there, for Miss Elinor, a very little 
given to gossip it may be, had kindly remembered her, 
aud numerous were the exaggerated stories afloat 
concerning the deception she had practiced both 
upon her father aud the villagers. Like most peo¬ 
ple she had one so-called friend, who dutifully kept 
her posted with regard to all that was said concern¬ 
ing her, and, completely overwhelmed with shame 
and mortification, she resolved to keep herself se¬ 
cluded at home, where she vented her disappoint¬ 
ment in harsh language ami bitter tears, particularly 
when, on the day succeeding the funeral, she heard 
that Miss Elinor had taken Alice to live with her. 
But little did Miss Elinor care for her anger. 
The world to her was brighter now thau it had 
been for many years, and with something of a 
mother’s love, her heart went out towards the 
orphan to whom ehe had given a home. Adelaide, 
however, was not forgotten, and the trood ladv was 
HE GREAT F .1 II I t Y OINTMENT ! 
Kennedy’s Salt Rheum Ointment 
Should be u. every household. No Other ointment can com¬ 
pete with it as a remedy aud .-needy mentis of relief. 
For BURNS aud SCALDS it is the most perfect cure ever 
known. 
PRICK* FIFTY CENTS TEH BOTTLE. 
SOLD liY ML DBf OOLsTh. 
A COIOU, a COLD, or a SOKE THROAT, 
requires immediate attention, and should be checked. 
If allowed to continue, 
Irritation of the Lunar*, a Permanent Throat / 
Dlseaac or Consumption, 
is oltenthe result. 
BROWN’S BRONCHIAL TROGHES 
Having a direct lnfitietice to the parts, give immediate relief. 
For Bronchitis. A-ttimn, Catarrh, Coimnniptlon, 
and Throat Diseases, Troches are used with ulwaya 
good success. 
dinners and Public speakers use them to clear and 
strengthen the voice. 
Obtain only ‘‘Brown’s Bronchial Troches.” and do not 
take any of the worthless imitations that may be offered. 
Sold Everywhere. 933-8mo 
Chapter XI. — Natural Consequences. 
It is summer again,—“ the leafy month of June,” 
— aud in the spacious, well-kept grounds of Rich¬ 
ard Howland hundreds of ro-es are blossoming, 
but none so fair and beautiful to the owner of these 
grounds as the rose which blossoms within the house, 
—the bright-haired, gentle Alice, who, when the 
grief-laden clouds of adversity were overshadowing 
her life, dreamed not that she again could be as 
happy as she is in her new home. The grass-grown 
grave in the quiet valley is not neglected, nor he 
who restetb there forgotten, but though her tears 
fall often on the sod, she cannot wish that blind 
man back in a world which was so truly dark to him. 
And Alice has learned to be happy in her luxuri¬ 
ous home,—happy in the tender love which Miss 
Elinor ever lavishes upon her, and happy, too, in 
the quiet brother-like affection of him who seems 
to her the embodiment of every manly virtue. He 
does not talk often with her, for Richard How¬ 
land deals not so much in words as deeds, but in 
a thousand little ways he tells her he is glad to 
have her there. And this is all he tells her, so that 
neither she, nor yet his more discerning sister, 
dreams how 6weet to him is the music of the child¬ 
ish voice, which often in the gathering twilight 
6 ings some song of the olden time; nor do they 
know, when returning home at night, how wist¬ 
fully he glances towards the window where Alice 
is wont to sit, and if they did know it they could 
not fathom bis meaning, for when the golden hair 
and bright young face is (here, he always turns 
aside, lingering without as if within there were no 
maiden fair, whose eyes of blue played wilder notes 
upon his heart-strings than the dark, proud orbs 
of Adelaide had ever done. Even he does not 
know he loves her, so quietly that love has come, 
— creeping o’er him while he slept,—stealing o’er 
him when awake,—whispering to him in the dingy 
counting-room, and bidding him cast frequent 
glances at the western sky, to see if it were not 
time that he were home. He only knows that he 
is very happy, and that, hie happiness is in some 
way connected with the childish form which flits 
before him like a sunbeam, filling his home with 
light and joy. It bad never occurred to him that 
she might sometime go away, aud leave in his 
household a void which no other one could fill, 
and when one day, towards the last of June, his 
sister said to him, “Alice has received a letter 
from an old friend of her mother, asking her to 
take charge of the Juvenile Department oi a yonng 
ladies’ Seminary in B-,” he started as if he had 
been smitten with a heavy blow. 
“Alice teach school!” he exclaimed. “Alice 
go away from—me—from you, I mean. Preposter¬ 
ous ! She don’t, of course, think of accepting the 
offer?” 
“Yes, she does. I’d no idea she had so much 
decision,” and Miss Elinor’s scissors cut quite a 
bole in the embroidery on which she has worked 
ever since we knew her. “I remonstrated when 
she told me she should return an affirmative answer, 
but it did no good. She never intended long to 
burden people on whom she had no claim, she said. 
She would rather be independent, and though ehe 
was very happy here, she felt it her duty to earn her 
own living, now that an opportunity was presented.” 
“ Earn her own living,” repeated Mr. Howland, 
“just as though she cost anybody anything. There 
is some other reason, and if I didn’t know you as 
well as 1 do, I should be inclined to think the fault 
was with you, Maybe you do sometimes scold her, 
Elinor!” and he fixed his eyes inquiringly upon 
his sister's face. 
Miss Elinor had striven hard to restrain the tears 
which thoughts of parting with her favorite induced, 
and thus far she had succeeded, but when she heard 
her brother’s remark, they burst forth at once. 
“ Me scold Alice 1” was all she could articulate, 
as with a deeply injured air she left the room, while 
her brother, seizing his hat, hurried off to the store, 
where he remained the entire day, trying to think 
how it would seem to him when be knew that 
Alice was gone. 
“It didn’t seem at all,” either to him or to his 
clerks, for never before hau he been so irritable and 
cross, finding fault with the most trivial matters,— 
To feel that you can or might be something, is 
often the first step towards becoming it; and the 
surest way to secure the respect of the world, is to 
respect yourself. 
ERMONT MERINO Bl « KS OF SI PE- 
bu>r s T ock Ovalities, lrom ” Old Grimes.” for 
In E. L. C A MI-TIKI L, (.'••nisi ock's Landing. N. Y., 
cr GEO. CAMPBELL. West Wi'-cininsU-r. Vt. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
LLI/O STRATED REBUS. 
Jj LI SUING C’U. offer THE BEST 11 1 -TORY OF THE Re- 
uEi.i.i . Latest, Cheoped, most Complete. 
Tne Bust Illustiuth> NvrritAL History. 
Tub Best Work on the Domestic Animals. 
The Up.st Work on thb Farm \m* Gardens. 
The I’.est Family Hrcfaj-t Look. A-c.. Ac. 
u5Y~ The best T<ni m , and the most reliable Lust motions to 
Agents. Address E. G. STORKE, 
94541 Publishing Agent, Auburn, N. Y. 
T O THE L A DIES. 
FOR ONLY ONE DOLLAR, 
We are selling Sills, Shawls, Dry and Fancy Goods of 
every description ; also, Silver Ware, Furniture, *c. 
Valuable Presents, from (S to >500, sent, free of chartje to 
agents sending clubs of ten and upwards. Circulars seat 
free to any address. MESSENGER & CO., 
P. O. Box. 2,031. 42 Hanover Street, Boston, Mass. 
X The Salem Vine, having exceeded the expectation? 
of its friends, both in unsnrpassfid hardiness andquality of 
fruit, the linger portion of the extensive stock, grov. n by us 
from the ongiual pil roll as ed of E. S. R 00 KB 8 , Esq., of Salem, 
Mass., has been secured lor Vineyard planting utSalem-on- 
Erie.CB&ntanqua.€o.,N. Y., to which place we have ”emovcd 
our Propagating Establishment, formerly at Amenia. We 
are -till prepared to -apply limited outers for first-class 
Vines, one aud two years old. 
Prices for the Spring of 1868. 
Good, strong, healthy Vines, 2 yrs. old with 3 budseach,.¥4,00 
*• ** “ “ “ 30 itnrr Hil f!/l 
Rochester, N. Y, 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker, 
GEOGRAPHICAL ENIGMA. 
For orders. 500 and upwards, a liberal reduction front the 
above rate-. Address, J. A. REUUA, Agent, Salcni-on-Etie 
Nurseries, Brocton, Chautauqua Co., N. Y. H41-6teo. 
I am composed of 54 letters. 
My 4,1, 46, 32, 6, 16, 21, 17, 27 , 53, 47 is a mountain in 
North America. 
My 20, 6, 11, 43, 10, 23 is a city in Russia. 
My 28,14. 10, 39, 44, 26. 34, 41 is a cape of North America. 
My 31, 34, 36, 54,52,33, 25, 7 is a bay in North America. 
My 29, 24,18, 31, 37. 50, 22 is a river in South America. 
My 38, 33, 35,1,15 is a lake in Asia. 
My 42,10, 5,13, 3, 46,12 is a strait, in North America. 
Ms 51,40. 47. 30, 18 is a sea in Europe. 
My 7,10, 2, 8 is a lake in Scotland. 
My 49,33. 45.52. 5, 2. 28,48.32,52 is a city in Pennsylvania. 
My whole is a Proverb. 
Constantia, Ohio. O. W. Thompson. 
Answer in two weeks. 
YORK, .PENNSYLVANIA. 
Illustrated Descriptive Fruit- & Seed Catalogues 
mailed to any address on receipt of stump. 9t5-2teo 
A RARE CHANCE 
Address LOCK BOX 53, 
013-3teo. 
TVTFKSERY FOR 8ALE- 
L\ fur a man with a small capital, 
Geneva, N. Y T . 
D AVISOS’* THOKNLF>ts BLACK RASP- 
beriy — Origin—How and wliese to get plants, with full 
directions lor its profitable cultivation, all for 10 cents. Ad¬ 
dress Rev. Mr. HOYT. Gaines, N. Y • 937-lm4m 
W ANTED, AGENTS - $7o TO $200 PER 
month, everywhere, male and female, to introduce 
the GENUINE IMPROVED COMMON-SENSE FAMILY 
SEWING MACHINE. TMachine will stitch, hen,, fell, 
tuck, quilt, cord, bind, braid aud embroider in a most supe¬ 
rior rnannei. 
Prd-k oulv $38, Fnllv warranted lor Cve years. We will 
pay 11,900 for any machine that, will sew a srronst 
beautiful, or more elastic seam tii&h ours. It makes the 
” Elastic Lock Stitch.’ 1 Every aecourl stitch can be cut, and 
still the cloth cannot be pollen apart without tearing It. We 
pay Agents from 875 to |20(i per mouth anil expenses, or a 
comic is-: u c from which twice that amount can be made. 
Addi . < < Pittsburg. Pa . or Boston, Mass. 
CAUTION.— Do not be imposed upon by other parlies 
palming Oil worthless cast-iron machines, under the same 
name or otherwise. Ours is the only genuine aud really 
practical cheap machine manufactured. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CHARADE. 
O, gently, gently o'er the lake 
Steals my first at eve. nntil 
Wrapped within its silver haze, 
Lie the mountaiu, vale and hill. 
O, gayly, gayly rang the song, 
And quickly drained each sparkling cup 
Bnt fiercely to each drunken head 
My second came when they rose up. 
O, loudly, loudly laughed the school. 
When once, my whole, the teacher made, 
“ Of ten and five, and eight and three. 
The sum is twenty-five," he said. 
Answer in three weeks. 
rir A SEWING AIAt HINE. —THE CELE- 
tp*db United 
CHAMPION SEWING MACHINE 
is a marvel 01 simplicity .and durability. It will Stitch, 
Hem, Fell. Tuck. O ultt. Hi Ml. Braid and Embroider, making 
the EUiMie Lock-Stitch. Patented Aug. 6,18*17, and does not ; 
infringe. The Ladles are delichir'd with it. single Machines 1 
expressed to anv part of the Ulined Stales upon receipt Of 
$!, at out risk, i fin « registered letter, and warranted 5 years. 
Agent- art- making $10 to $20 per day helling them. For sam¬ 
ple machine and term- to Agent-, inclose and address 
the CHAMPION SEWING MACHINE CO., 
945-2teo 161 Broadway, N. Y. 
Denio 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
MATHEMATICAL PROBLEM, 
Cl X NOVELTY SEWING AND EM- 
LpJL'J BROIDERING MACHINE i- the only cheap 
licensed Machine In (lie market. It, will do all kinds of work 
done by the high-priced machines, it nmk.the famous 
Elastic stitch, which will not rip or 'break If every third 
stitch be cut. Run by band or toot. Price with table, $22. 
Agents wanted. Machines sent on retclwl of price. 
Address FRENCH, GILBERT & CO., 
945-2t-to 614 Broadway, New Y'ork. 
A piece of lead was immersed in a gallon measure of 
water, by which one-half the water was displaced; what 
was the lead worth at 15 cents per cubic inch ? 
Middlefield, N. Y. P. C. Smith. 
Answer in two weeks. 
tfirtA FORT EDWAltD INNITTITE.- 
©Ovr, spring term of thirteen weeks begins March 
26 . Sixi v dollar.- for board, washing, fuel aud common Eng¬ 
lish. Brick buildings, sixteen teachers, classical, scleutifiit, 
commercial aud musical departments. For thirteen years 
the best snsuiiued boarding seminar} for Indies and gentle¬ 
men in the sute. •* a live Ulirlstlaa institution, impartially 
no^-t-|•tnriau. , ' Address for catalogue- or rooms, 
JOSEPH E. KING, D. D„ Fort Edward, N. Y. 
B$(“ Bindtr - accompanied by a Professor from New \ ork. 
Answer to Miscellaneous EnigmaTake things always 
by the smooth handle. 
Answer to Anagram: 
Be kind to thy brother wherever you are, 
The love oi a brother shall be 
An ornament purer aud richer by far 
Than pearls from the depths of the sea. 
Answer to Dlnstrated Rebns 1 —William A. Reynolds, 
proprietor of the Arcade, 1868. 
lUILKfii 
per acre. 
3SBAND, 
937-eo 
TtAli.ll FOR MALE. — SO. ACRE?, 2 - 
_T lrom Newark. Wavue Co., N. i. Price $16 
Inquire ol l. E. BRIG&8, Esq., Newark, or N. S, 
on the promises. _ 
P EEK SKILL PLOWS AND PLOW’ FAST- J 
XN(is-8. lid for List. PKEK8K1LL MAN O F ACT UR- 4 
ING CO., Pcekbkili, N. Y. J 
