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~, ~rti~c3-Ouxud, Vaev to t*eSond) *nV Soutljrn Ulits, 'VotiiicS, categ flwJtrttvUM1SiiUme~e,~tiitu e "We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of our LibertIes, and it It must fall, we wIll Perish amIdst the RuIn.." SIlYKINS, DURISOE & CO., Proprietors. EDGEFIELD, . C., JUNE 3, 1857. -N - A STORY OF SCHOL The red light shorn through the open door, From the round declining sun; And fantastic shadows, all about, On the dusty floor were thrown, As the factory clock told the hour of five, And the school was almost done. The mingled hum of the busy town, Rose faint from her lower plain; And we saw the steeple over the trees, With its motionless, golden vane; And heard the cattld's musical low, And the rustle of standing grain. In the open casement a lingering bee Murmured a drousy tune; And from the upland meadows, a song In the lulls of the afternoon Had come on the air, that wandered by, Laden with the scents of June. Our tasks were finished and lessons said, And we sat, all hushed and still, Listening to catah the purl of the brook, And the whirl of the distant mill;' And- waiting the word of dismissal, that yet Waited the master's will. The master was old and his form was bent, And scattered and white his hair; But his heart was young, and there ever dwelt A calm and kindly air, Like the halo over a pictured saint, On his face, marked deep with care. His eyes were closed, and his wrinkled hands Were folded over his vest, As wearily back in his old arm chair He reclined as if to rest; And the golden streaming sunlight fell On his brow, and down his breast. We waited in reverent silence long, And silence the master kept; Though still the accustomed saintly smile Over his features crept; And we thought, worn with the lengthened toil Of the summer's day, he slept. So we quietly iose and lett our seats, And outward, into the sun, From the gathering shades of the dusty room, Stole silently one by one; For we knew by the distant striking clock, It was time the school was done. And left the master, sleeping alone, Alone in his high backed chair; With his eyelids closed, and his withered palms Folded as if in prayer; And the mingled light and smile on his face, And we knew not death was there. Nor knew that just as the clock struck live, His kindfy soul away, A shadowy messenger silently bore From his trembling house of clay, To be a child with the Saints of leaven, And to dwell with Christ, alway! TIlE CLIENTS STORY. It was late.one Saturday evening in Decein ber, when I received a letter, which, on open ing, I foud to be from Walter Moreton; and the purport of the letter was, to request my immediate presence at Cambridge, in the ca pacity both of a friend and of a lawyer. The letter concluded thus: "Do not delay your journey many hours after receiving this. My urgency will be explained by the change you will perceive in yours, Walter Moreton." I had known Walter Moreton in youth and in manhood: we had been intimate, without having been altogether friends; and the attrac tion which his company possessed for me, arose rather from the shrewdness of his remarks than from any sympathy of feeling betwixt us. Of late years I had seen comparatively little of Moreton. I knew that he had married; that he had been in straightened circumstanc~es, that his lather-in-law and wife had died, and left him a rich widower, that he had married a sec ond time, and that he was the father of three children. From the tenor of the letter I had received, I could scarcely doubt that Walter Moreton had been seized with some dangerous illness, and was desirous of settling his worldly affairs. My old intimacy with Moreton would of itself have prompted me to obey his sunm mons; but the requirement of my professional aid of course increased the celerity of my obe dience. Early the next morning, therefore, I put myself into the Cambridge coach; and af ter dispatching a hasty dinner at the Hoop, I walked up to Walter Moreton's house in Trumn pingtoni street. 1 was p~reparied for a change, but not certain ly such a change as that which presented itself. Walter Moreton could not have been forty, but he senmed a broken down man; gray-haired thin visaged and cadaverous. Hie received me with apparent kinidness; thanked me for the ready compliance with his wish ; and informed nme at once that lhe had need of my professional services in the dispiosal of his plroperty. But I had no difliculty in per ceiving, from a certain reserve and distracted ness of manner, that something beyond the mere making of a will had brought mue to Cami bridge. I (lid not of course make any observa tion upon the change which 1 observed in his appearance, but expressed a hope that his ule sire for my professional assistance had not aris en Irom any apprehensions as to the state of his health, to which he only replied, that his health was not worse than usual, but that it was always well to be prepared ; anud he added, "Conic, Thornton, let us to businiess;" ami to business we went. I ned scarcely say, that T was prepared for instructions to divide the fasther's fortune accor ding to somie rule of division-or, p~erhapas, of sonme capiricioius preference, among his children --two sons and one daughter, chilren yet of tender age-and to secure a life interest to his wife. Great, therefore, wa-s my surpirise whien Mr. Moreton, after mentioning a f'ew trifling legacies, named as thme sole suiccessors of his im mense fo~rtune, two individuals mmknowni to me, and of whose connection with the testator I was entirely ignorant. I laid down my pen, and looked upi: " Mr. Moreton," said I, hesitatingly, "you have a wife and children."~ ": I have children," said he, " but Go.] preserve them from the curse of wealth that does niot beon t them." "Moreton-Walter Moreton," said 1, "you are over scrupulous. I know indeed, that this large fortune has come to you through your first wife; but it was hers to give; she became the sole heiress of her father, when his three sons of a former marriage were unfortunately drowned in the-" "IHush, Thornton !" repeated he, hastily, and in a tone so altered and so singular that it start led me. "Moreton," said I rising and approaching him, and laying my hand gently upon his shoul der, " we were once companions-almost friends; as a friend, as well as a lawyer, you have sent for me. There is some mystery here, of which I am sure it was your intention to disburden yourself. Whatever the secret be, it is safe with me. But I tell you plainly that if you are resolved to make beggars of your innocent children without giving a sufficient reason for it, some other than Charles Thornton must be the instrument of doing it. " Thornton," said he, in a grave tone, and without raising his eyes, " there is a mystery a fearful mystery-and it shall be told this night. That done, neither you nor any one can be the friend of Walter Moreton; but he will have no occasion for friendship. Reach me some wine, Thornton, and pour it out for me; my nerves are shattered: another glass.-now, sit down-no, not there-ay, ay-one other glass, Thornton." I took my place in a large, high backed chair, as Walter Moreton directed me; and he, pla cing himself a little out of my view, spoke as follows: "It is now upwards of ten years, as you know, Thornton, since I married my first wife, the daughter of Mi. Bellenden-old Bellenden the lawyer. She, you also know, was the child of a former marriage-and that the large for tune of my father-in-law, which in the end came -no matter how-to me, belonged to him, or rather to his three sons, in right of his second wife, who was also dead at the time of my mar riage. I could not have indulged any expecta tion that this fortune would ever reach me; for although I knew very well that, filing my wife's three half brothers, it came entirely in her father's power, yet there could be no ground for any reasonable expectation that three healthy boys would die off and make way for Ag nes. Mark me, Thornton, I did not marry for money; and the thought of the succession which afterwards opened never entered my mind. I will tell you, Thornton, the first oc casion on which hope dawned upon me. There was an epidemic in this part of the country, and my father-in-law's three sons were seized with it at one time. All three were in the most imminent danger; and one evening when the disease was at its height, and when my wife seemed greatly distressed at receiving a message that it was doubtful if any of the three would survive till morning-' And if they should die,' said I, within myself! This supposition con stantly recurred, and was so willingly enter tained that I lay awake the whole of that night, plnning myself the disposal of this fine inheri tance; forgetting, at the time another life-that Af my father-in-law-stood betwixt us and the mccession. Next morning, however, a favora ble change took place, and eventually the three youths recovered; but so strong a hold had the hopes, which had been thus suddenly created, taken of my mind, that in place of their being dissippated by the event, which naturally de prived them of any foundation they ever had, I was not only conscioti of feeling the keenest isappoiatment, but also as if some untoward accident had defrauded me of something that was all bitt within my reach. "How near I have been to ailluence," was a consitantly recur ring thought; and when I heard every morn ing that this person was dead, and that person wvas dead, a feeling of chagrin was invariably elt. You are perhaps incapable of understand ing these feelings, Thornton, and so was I, until the events took place which gave birth to them." Moreton paused a monent; but I did nut in terrupt him; and after passing his hand over his forehead, and filling out with an unsteady hand another glass of wine, he proceeded : " You know something of the river here, and of the passion for boating. The three boys often indulged in this exercise ; and it some times happened that I accompanied them. One day, about the end of August, we had spent the day at Eelpits, and it was not far from sun set when we set out to row back tgCambridge. [t was a fine, calm evening when we left that place, but it soon began to rain heavily ; and in the scramble for cloaks which the suddenness and heaviness of the shower occasioned, the boat was all but upset ; but it righted again, and served only as a matter of mirth'to the boys, though in me a different effect was pro duced. More than a year had elapsed since the presence of the epidemic had given rise to the feelings I have already confessed to, and the circumstances had been nearly, but not altogether forgotten. At that moment, how ever, the thoughts that at that time had con tinually haunted me, recurred with tenfold orce. " If it had upset?" I said within my self, while sitting silent in the stern-' if it had upset !' and the prospect of wealth again open ad before me. " Well, we continued to row, and it soon fell hsk, and then the moon rose ; and we continu md to ascend the river-ours the only boat up >n it-until we were in less than two miles of ambridge. I had occasionally taken a turn at he oar, but at that time I sat in the stern, and still somnethinig continually whispered to mie, If the boat had upset !' I need not tell you, Thorntont, that little things influence the great est. events: one of these little things occurred at this mioment. I had a dog in the boat, andl one of the boys said something to it in Latin. SDon't speak Latin to the dog,' said anothter, ' for its tmaster does not understand Latin.' 'Yes lie does,' said tho elder, 'Mr. Moreton understands dog Latin.' This was a little mat ter, Thornton, but it displeased me. There was~ always a good deal of assuniption of supe riority, especially on the part of the eldest, onm account of his university education; and little anmoyances of this kind were frequent. It was pecisely at this mnonment that something dark ws seen floating towards us ; it chanced to come just in tihe glimpse of the moon on the water, and was seen at once by us all ; and as it approached nearer, till it was about to pass within an oar's length of the boat. You have heard the story, Thornton-you have said, if 1 recollect, that the three boys wer--" Here Moretona ..uddenly stopped, and hastily drained the wine he had filled out. "Drowtied int the Caim," said I ; "ye I knew of this iifortune ; but I did not know that you were ptresenit." "1 I was-I was--resent!I" saidl Moretonm, lay tg a pteculiar emphasis on thme word. "Ay, Thorintont, you've hit the wvord-I was present but listen: I told you the (lark oliject floated within an oar's length of the boat ; at once the three boys mtade a spring to the side of the boat, extending arims and oars to interc~ept it ; and-A in an instant the boat was keel uppermost !" Moreton pronounced the last words rapidly, and in an under tone, and stopped ; he raised the wmie d'catnte'r fronm the table, but let it drop again. Moreton had yet said nothing to crimni nate hiimself; the incident appeared, from his .a..aivm numrel accidental: and I therefore said, "Well, Moreton, the boys were unhappi]3 drowned; but it . was in consequence of thehi own imprudence." " Thornton," said he, "you are here to hear z confession ; I am here to make it-'tis of no usE shrinking from it-fill me a glass of wine, foi my hand trembles. Now-two of the boys the two youngest-I never saw; as God is my judge, I believe if I had seen the youngest ] would have done my uttermost to save him. I suppose they sank beneath the boat, and floated down below the surface. The eldest, he rosc close to me; we were not twenty yards from the bank; I could have saved him. I believe ] would have saved him if he had cried for help. I saw him but for a moment. I think when ] struck out to swim, I kicked him beneath the water-undesignedly, Thornton, undesignedly But I did not turn round to assist him; I made for the bank, and reached it-and it was then too late. I saw the ripple on the water, and the boat floating away; but nothing else. Thorn ton, I am his murderer !" When Moreton had pronounced this word, he seemed to be somewhat relieved, and paused. I imagined his communication had ended ; and ] ventured to say that although it was only justice that the inheritance which had become hi, should revert to the heirs of those who had been deprived of it-supposing them to have been deprived of. it by his act-it was proper to consider the matter cooly; for there was such a thing as an over-sensitive conscience; and it was perhaps possible that, in the peculiar circumstances attending the awful event, his mind-had been incapable of judging correctly ; that he might have coupled the fancies which had preceded the event, with the event itself; and that want of presence of mind might have been mistaken for something more criminal. " No, no, Thornton," said he, "I am no fan cier: believe it to be as I have told you. But if you ever could have doubted-as I do not believe you do-your doubts would have been dispelled by what you have yet to hear. I am not going to give you a narrative of my life, and shall say nothing of the time that immedi ately followed the event I have related. The fortune become my father-in-law's; and my wife became an heiress. But my present cir cumstances were nowise changed. Brighter prospects led to increased expenses; and em barrassments thickened around me. You know something of these, Thornton; and tried, as you recollect, ineffectually,-to extricate me from them. Meanwhile, my father-in-law, who spee (lily got over the loss he had sustained, spoke of his daughter-of Agnes, my wife-as a great heiress, and boasted and talked much of his wealth, though it made no difference in his mode of living. "Not one shilling, Walter, till I die," was constantly in his mouth; and not a shilling, indeed, did he ever offer, although he well knew the pressing difficulties in which we were placed. I once, and only once, ventured to ask him for some advance; but the answer was the same: " Not a shilling, Walter, till I die: patience, patience-it must all go to Agnes." " Must I confess it, Thornton? yes-I may confess anything after what I have already con fessed. The "not a shilling till I die," were continually in my ears. The event that had pla ced fortune within my power, frequently recur red to my memory; and with it the convictio, that I was in no way benelitted by it: the nearer vicinity of wealth only made the w.nt of it more tantalizing." "You recollect very well, Thornton, my ap plication to you in December, 182-, six years ago. You recollect its extreme urgency, and the partial success which attended it-sufficient, however to keep me from jail. You might well, as you did, express your surprise that my wife's ither should suf fer such a state of things to be; but he could suflfer anything, save parting with his money; he was a miser; the love of riche. ad grown with their possession: and 1 believe lie would have suillered me to rot in jail rather thain draw upon his colliers.? " It iasjust at this time, or at most a weak or two subsequent to it, that Mr. Bellenden was attacked by a complaint to which he had long been subject-one requiring the most prompt medical aid ; but from which, on several former occasions, he had perfectly recovered. Agnes was extremely attentive to her father; and on Christmas evening, as we were both on the way to the sick chamber, we met the family surgeon leaving the house." "'You are perhaps going to spend some time with my patient V said Mr. Amwell." "' My husband,' said Agnes, 'means to spend an hour or twvo with my father. I have a par ticular engagement at present, and am only go ing to ask how he does.'" "'I have sonme little fears of another attack,' said Mr. Amnwell. ' Do not be alarmed, my dear madam ; we know how to treat things; prompt ness is all that is required. It will be necessa ry, my dear sir,' said Mr. Amawell, addressing me, ' to lose no time in sending for me, should Mr. Bellenden experience another attack ; all depends upon the prompt and free use of the lancet. There is no occasion for any alarm, madam. The good old gentleman may live to eat twenty Christmas dinners yet.'" " Mr. Amuwell passed on, and we entered the house, and ascended to the sick chamber. My wife remaind but a few minutes, she had some particular engagements at home; anid as she left the room, she charged me not to lose a me ment in calling Mr. Amiwell, should there ap pear to be any occasion for his aid. She shut the door, and I seated myself in a large chair near to the bed." " There wais a table near to me with several phials upon it. I took them upone by one, and examined them. One was labelled "laudanum.'' While I held it in my hand all the'demon was within. My pecuniary difficulties seemed to augment ; the excellence of wealth to increase; the love of enjoyment grew stronger ; and my estimation of the value of an old man's life weaker. At this moment the sick man asked for dhrink. Thornton ! need I hesitate to con fess that I was strongly tempted ; but I resisted the temptation- I held the fatal phial for a few moments in my hand ; laid it down-pushed it from me-and assisted the old man to his needs. But no sooner had I done this, and re seated myself, than I began to accuse myself with inconsistency. These, thought I are dis tictions without any real difference. A youth who stood betwixt mnc and fortune, was drown ing; and I dlid not stretch out my hand to save him; there are many kinds of murder, but in all the crime is the same." " I lhad nearly proved to my satisfaction that I was a fool, when certain indications that could not be mistamken, assured nic that Amwell's fears were about to be realized; and they instant 13 were to thme fullest extent. Mr. Amwel's par ting words recurred to me, " all depends upon the promipt use of thme lancet." My heart beat quiick: I r.ose-hesitated--rheatedl myself rose aigain-listenmed-again sat down-pressed my fingers onl miy ears that I might hear nmoth ing-andl leaned my head! forward on the table, I continueld in this posture for some time, and then started up and listened. All was silent, I rag thme bell violently ; opened the dloor ; and cried out to call Mr. Amnwell instantly, and re turned to the chamber-which I believed to be no longer the chamber of sickness, but of death and rented myself in the chair, with the strong persuasion that t last obstacle to for tune had been removed. ' But, Thornton, again I knew that I was--a second time-a murde rer I" "Here Mr. Moreton pased, and leaned back in his chair, apparefti ehausted. I again thought his communfeatien had ended: and al though I could not now iddress him as I had addressed him before, I was beginning to say that to make absolute begam of his children could not be an acceptablo atonement for crime, when he interrupted me, ieedless, apparently, of my having addressed him. "In a few minutes Mr.'Amwcll entered the room. He approached the bed, bent over it, turned to me, and said, "I fear it is too late, Mr. Moreton.'" - "' Perhaps not,' said I,-' at all events make the attempt."% " Mr. Amwell did of coife make the attempt, and in a few moments de*sted; shook his head, and said, ' A little-and I have reason to believe only a -very little-too late,' and in a few min utes I was again left alone." " Thornton, since that hour I have been a miserable man." Another long pause ensued, which I did not attempt to break; but Moreton at length re sumed " Since that hour, T say, Charles Thornton, I have never known a mont's peace. My wife's tears for her father fell upon my heart like drops of fire; every look she gihe me seemed to read my innermost thoughts; dhe never spoke that I did not imagine that she was about to call me murderer. Her presence'became agony to me. I withdrew from her, and from all society-for I thought every man looked suspicidusly upon me; and I had no companion but conscience ay, conscience, Thornton,-conscience that I thought I had overcome-as well I might, for had I not seen the young and healthy sink, when I might have saved ? and how could I have believed that?- but so'it was, and is: look at me, and you will see what conscience has made of me. Agnes sickeied, and as you know, died. This I felt as a relief; and for a time I breathed more freely ; and I married again. But my old feelings returned, and life every day be comes more burdensome.'to me. Strange, that events long passed become more and more vivid -but so it is.. The evening on the Cam, and the death chamber of old Bellenden, are alter nately before me." " Now, Thornton, you have heard all. Are you now ready to frame the will as I directed ? 1 am possessed of a quarter of a million, and it belongs to the heirs of those for whom it was originally destined." Some conversation here ensued, in which my object was to show that,* although the large property at Moreton's disposal ought never to have been his, yet if the events which he had related had not taken place, it never could have come into the possession of those for whom he now destined it. I admitted, however, the pro priety of the principle of restutiontothebranch es of the family in whi tad originally been vested,- but prevailed-wi Morstonmn hav ing a competency reserved for his own children, and for his wife, who married in the belief that fie was able to provide for her. And upon these principles, accordingly, the testament was framed and completed the same evening. Itgrew late. "Walter Moreton," said I, rising to take leave, "let this subject drop for ever. When we meet again, let there be no allusion to the transactions of this evening." " Thornton," said he, "we shall never meet again." " There are remedies, my friend," said I " there are remedies for the accusations of con science; apply yoirelf to them; if the mind were relieved by religious consolations, bodily health would return." Moreton faintly smiled. " Yes, Thornton," said he, " there are remedies; I know them, and will not fail to seek their aid. Good-night !" I returned to the inn, and soon after retired to bed; as may easily be bulieved, to think or the singular revelations of the evening. For some time these thoughts kept me awake; but at length I fell asleep. My dreams were dis turbed, and all about Walter Moreton. Some times he was swimming in the river, or standing on the bank, pointing with his finger to a human head that was just sinking: sometimes lie was sitting by the bedside or old Bellenden, examii ning the ephial, and walking on tiptoe to the door, and sometimes the Lcene of the past eve ning was renewed, when I saw and listened to his narrative. Trhen again, he had a phiial in his hand, and uncorked it, and in raising it to his mouth, it seemed to be a small pistol; and just at this moment I awoke. The last scene remuined forcibly and vividly on my mind. It instantly occurred to me that ho might have meditated suicide, and that that was the remedy of which he spoke. I looked at my watch; it was an hour past midnight. I hastily dressed, and hurried up to Trumpington Street. There was a light in one of the wvin dows. I knocked gently at the door ; and at the same time applied my hand to the knob, which yielded. I hurried up stairs, directed by the situation of the light Iliad seen, and entered the room. Moreton stood near to -the bed, be side a small table ; a phial in his handl, which, at the moment I entered, ho laid dowvn. T sprang forward and seized it. It was already empty. "Ah, my friend !"' said I-but further speech was useless. Moreton was already in the grasp of death. ADvERTIsiNG.-Some people olject to adlver tising; in fact they object to everything. Now ur experience teaches us that unless a man ad vertises, his business will necessarily diminish. Who knows what lawyers are in town ; what physicians ; who are mechanics; what they can do, except they make themselves known through the columns of a newspaper ? Gientlemen, we pray you-don't hide your lights under a bush el; this is the only way for you to become cele brated or wealthy. Verily, ii Peter Snodgras has a finer assortment and cheaper goods than Philip Spuleg, Peter should let the people know it, or how in the world will they ever find it out ? There are men who have articles for sale, and who frequently ask us, " do you know who wants so and so ?" How do we know ? We can't tell-the only way to find it out is to ad vertise. How in the world has Holloway, Jayne, Hluntly, and hundre'ds of others, given circulation to their medicines ? How has Stew art, Beebe amid others made fortunes? Yes, how?7 simply by advertising. Adveitising is the business man's railroad to wealth-it brings him credit, it sells his goods, it establishes 'cus tom, it renders him the possroftuan. AN Irishman who once go$ a little the worst pf it~ in a tynmde with a~ yankee grocer, enteredl hs sho~p onec day to mal9e purchase of tobacco. " And faith " says Pat, " how muclh ye be af ter asking for as much tobacco as '11 reach froni one of ime cars to thme other ?" " Fourpence," replied the Yankee, throwing two plugs on the counter. " Ah, me darlint, that'll never do it-for one of me ears is on me head, and t'other's in ould Ireland." *$ AnvrCE.-Advice, says Coleridge, is like snow-the Soiler it falls the Ionger it dwells up on. and tha deeper it sinks into the mind. CHINESE BUGAR CANE. The following directions, in reference to the choice of ground, time of planting, manner of planting, cultivating, stripping, and cutting the Chinese Sugar Cane, when it is grown for the purpose of making Syrup or Sugar, has been gathered from practical men, who have had ex perience in the field in the sugar-growing dis tricts of this and other countries, by Messrs. Hedges & Free, corner of Main and Water streets, Cincinnati. CHoIcE OF GnoUND.-Upland soil is better for Sugar than low ground, though the latter may be a strong deep soil. It is supposed that the saccharine matter in plants is absorbed chiefly from the atmosphere ; and though a larger growth of cane can be secured on low ground than on high, there will be more water in the sap; and, as the cost of pressing and boiling is considerable, it is not always desirable to pro duce the largest growth, but rather the richest juice. TIME OF PLANTInc.-The seed of the Chinese Sorgho, or Sorgho Sucre, should not be planted unti the ground has become warm to a consid erable depth. If the season is backward, as the present spring, the first or tenth of June will do very well. Mr. Whitney, of Washington, D. C., raised his best seed, last year, from seed planted on the eighth of June. MANNER or PLANTING.-All agree that one seed in a place, eight or ten inches apart, in drills four feet apart, running north and south, gives the best growth, and renders its maturity more certain and uniform. It should be borne in mind that the Sorgho or Imphee stools out like wheat, i. e., one seed produces several stalks, and it is therefore not only useless but detri mental to a good growth of the best cane to plant the seed too thick. As light and air are essential to the best growth for Sugar, it is bet ter, as a general thing, to have too few than too many stalks, therefore no harm is done if a few hills fail to come up, as they probably will when there is but one seed in a place. CULTIVATIO.-This does not differ from the cultivation of Indian Corn, except that it should be watched when near maturity. When it is intended to make sugar or molasses, the seed head should be plucked out. This should be done after the seed has formed, and before it begins to fill, i. e., before it begins to assume a milky appearance: or, in other words, while the seeds are yet of a green color inside. The seed heads are easily plucked out by grasping the head and jerking upward. In a short time after this is done, new paniele will shout out furn the joints below, on which new seed heads will form. As soon as the seed in these new heads have be gun to form, the whole stalk should be stripped bare of all its leaves and panicle, leaving noth ing but the naked trunk. STRipr1u.-This operation is performed very quick by those accustomed to it. It is done with an instrument shaped much like a pruning hook, only it is larger, and is not sharp. A stroke downward with this instrument, close to the stalk, strips off not only the paniele and blades, but also the sheaths around the stalk at the base of each blade. If the instrument is sharp it does not clean the stalk so well, and besides that, it would be likely to wound the stalk, and cause it to sour. CrTTixe.-.This mav be done as soon as the stripping is coinpleted,'but not until the mill and the kettics are all ready, as the cane should he ground as soon as it is cut, and the juice boiled as soon as it is expressed. Otherwise, the quali ty of the s-rup made from it will be inferior, and it will'be nearly impossible to make sugar from it at all. TWELVE WAYS OF SHORTENING LIFE. 1. Wearing of thin shoes and cotton stock ings on damp nights and in cool, rainy weather. Wearing sufficient clothing, and especially upon the limbs and extremities. 2. Leading a life of enfeobling, stupid lazi- I ness, and keeping the mind in an unnatural a state of excitement by reading trashy novels. I Going to theatres, parties and balls, in all sorts of weather, in the thinest possible dress. Dan-1 cing till in a complete perspiration, and then going home with insufficient overgarments thro'i the cool, damp air. 3. Sleeping on feather beds in seven by nine 1 bed-rooms, without ventilation at the top oft the windows, and especially with two or more< persons in the same unventilated bed-room. 1 4. Surfeiting on hot and very stimulating diner. Eating in a hurry, without half mas- I ticating your food, and eating heartily beforet going to bed every night, when the mind and body are exhausted'by the toils of the day and the excitement of the evening. 5. Beginning in childhood on tea and coffee, and going from one step to another, through chewing and smoking tobacco, and drinking in toxicating liquors, by personal abuse, and phy sical and mental excesses of every description. a 6. Marrying in haste and getting an uncon- 1: genial companion, and living the remainder cf ' life in mental dissatisfaction. Cultivating jeal- I usies and domestic broils, and being always in a mental fermient. e 7. Keeping children quiet by giving paregoric f and cordials; by teaching them to suck candy, and by supplying them with raisins, nuts, and I rich cake. When they are sick, by giving th~em a mercury, tartar-emetic, and arsenic, under the I mistaken notion that they are medicines, and t not irritant passons. 8. Allowing the love of gain to absorb our 7 minds so as to leave no time to attend to our Y health, Following an unhealthy occupation be cause money can be made by it, 9. Tempting the appetite with bitters and t niceties, when the stomach says no, and by for- t oing food when nature does not demand, and 5 even rejects it. Gormandizing between meals. r 10. Contriving to keep in a continual worry V about something or nothing. Giving way to C its of anger. 11. Being irregular in all our habits of sleep- ~ ing and eating; going to bed at midnight, and getting up at noon. Eating too much and too ~ many kinds of food, and that which is too high-t ly seasoned.t 12. Neglecting to take proper care of our selves, and not applying early for medical ad- ~ vice when disease first appears. Taking cele brated quack medicines to a degree of making. a drug shop of the body. The above causes piroduces mere sickness, suffering and death, than all th~ epdpis~~n ~ laria and contagion, cemi \ith iyar, pesti leige'iid f'amine. Nearly all h'oj have attain ed to old age liiye bie'en' remarkable fpr equa limity of teinper,'epi'rect hayte 9 g~ie drinkI gg'dI rest-for teppe.nee, eer'lnpess, wora#i ty. Phmysical pugiislmeet is sure to visit the trasgress97 o( nature's laws. All coinmit sul. cide, and cut oil' mny years of their natural life, who do not observe the means for prevent-1 Ing disease and of preserving health. CraTm, thme pedestrian, says a St. Louis paper, has matched himself to walk one mile against the well known mrire Flying Cloud's trotting' three. Eixs enn, it is said, he better preserved in corn-imeal than in anmy other preparation yet I known. Lay them with the small end down,i and if undisturbed, they will be as good at the I ..nd of the yar a when paned.l THE EFFECTS UF TIE TARIFF UPON GOODS IND PRODUCTS. The advocates of the Tariff contend that the 'uty is not paid by the consumer, and some of them even go so far as to say that high duties make low prices. We have only to say to this, that the manufac. turers of the North who have fully tested this thing, now and always have been very anxious to have every raw material that they use admitted free of duty. They give as a reason for it, that the duty so increases the price that they cannot sell their goods at as low prices as those who pay no duty upon them. Do you want to know the effect it produces on your Cotton ? Suppose an English manufactu rer was to come to this country with a thousand iollars in gold to purchase your cotton, and the government should make him pay 30 per cent duty upon it? You perceive, he would pay the government $300, and would have only $700 left; now, he would have to get just as much of your cotton for the $700 as he would have taken for the $1000. But gold and silver pay no duty for two reasons; in the first place, it would make the unjust and iniquitous operation of the tariff too palble and clear to the people, and they would not stand it a day. In the second place, the government is sure to get the 30 per cent. The gold and silver may come in free to pay for your cotton, but your rulers know very well that they are of no use to you but to buy something with, and by putting the duty on every thing that comes in, they are sure to get it for the govern ment or for the Northern manufacturer. There is another thing that may be learned from this. Gold and silver pay no duty--cotton goods and silks pay 25 per cent., woolen goods, manufactures of iron and steel, sugar and mo lasses pay 30 per cent., wines pay 40 and brandy 100 per cent; these things are all brought here to pay for your cotton. Do you suppose if those who manufactured them paid the duty, they would bring them here? The merchant from the United States pays in England precisely the ame price for his goods that the Frenchman, Russian, or any body else; no deduction is made to the merchant of the United States on account f the tariff. Suppose the 25 per cent duty came out of the manufacturer, does any body think he would bring them here? Let us see how it will work out: The manufacturer wants cotton-he starts off with a hundred thousand dollars worth of cotton moods to the United States-he sells them in New York for money, and pays *25,000 in duties to the government, feaving hii only $75,000 to pay for cotton. Mark you, now, he could have sold those same goods at home to the French man, or to one of our own merchants for $100,. D0 in gold, and with the gold he could have ome here and bought cotton, saving $25,000 y the operation. Don't you see he would have lone better even if he had sold his goods at 15 per cent less? for even then he would have aighty-five thousand dollars to buy cotton with, making a saving of ten thousand dollars. How 2omes it then, tYat he sends the goods instead of the money ? This is the reason: If he were to end the gold he were to send, the gold he would ose the freight and insurance upon it, and would et for it only what it is worth at home. Sad ng the goods, he gets as much as he would have ot at home, and gets freight and insurance be ides. The consumers here pay the duties. Uorner Slone. CAN 31181C BE IMORAL! Music in itself is sensual. Nothing applies more directly to the nerves, and through the atter to the'senses, than sounds. It is for thisi -eason, that in the history of all eminently mu iical men of the strictly musical genius or talente, rou can trace the immense influence their art lad upon their sensual condition. That influence s generally so great that their bodily strength rows weaker and weaker, till an early death calls hem away, long before they have fulfilled not on y what they promised the world, but much more, that they promised themselves. Mozart, Schu wrt. Mendelssohn, Bellini, and others, may be ited as glorious examples of this remark. Taey _ould have lived much longer had not the sen uality of their nature found superabundant food n the sensuality of their art. And yet these rere the high-priests of art, the followers of the sautiful and the pure in sentiment. But where hese conditions are wanting; when music has no ther purpose than to please and excite you; hat do you think will be the result of that nervating state of body in which such music will ave put you? Your mind will be also enerva ed it will soon lose its balance, and be unable D distinguish what is pure and noble, until you ill have become one of that large class of so iety which lives only by animar instincts and uprincipled and often even unlawful means of atisfying them. We think the best answer to be above question may be gathered from the ecords of the victims which fil our hospitals nd mad-houses. An intelligent doctor will easi r trace the frightful ravages which in some in tances licentious music has had upon his atient. At least in Germany and Paris, mongst a hundred sufferers of a certain class f the residents in the lunatic asylum, you will ad a fourth, who arc or were musicians. Knowing this, we think it becomes an imperi 1 duty, to advocate, not only where music is dapted to words, a moral tone, but also in eneral such music as does not merely appeal >your senses, but also to your brains; which sakes you think and reflect, and is fit to enlarge our mind, instead of redutcing it to a slave of aur nr'es and sonses,--Musl Revfew TiE GRavE oF HENiR CMY.-The editor of se Fort Wayne Times has been on a journey irugh Kentucky, and went to pay his devotions t the grave of Henry Clay. in the cemetery ot far from Lexington, he searched for it first mong those covered with entablatured slabs, eliskcs, pyramids and imposing monuments, ut the name was found on none of these; he ought it among less imposing tabulets, but found not. A lad at-last led him to the spot, where little mound, marked only by the path worn by be foot prints of devoted countrymen, tol~d that be Great Commoner still lived in. the hiearts of be'people. Near by, was the monument affec ionately inscribed by Mr. Clay to his ninthew = On an adjoining eminen~e~ Ve is a beauti sl site-with ain arq an nsere, circulir: i form--tle p~ f entueky are to erect a giu t of 'K ...y xenrlc, of beautiful de ijn,4.eli is to rise 120 feet j ipn he t, siider hiel h e remains of the ngJe. son of our-sister tate are to he deposited. The corner sto il l he 9M e e 414 of JsJ~r nest, with impo ng eeemontes. Tus~ idle levy a very heavy tax upon the in histrious when, by frivolous visitations, they ob them of their time. Such persons beg heir daily happiness from door to door, as beg ars their (daily bread, and like them, sometimes ieet with a rebuff. A mere gossip ought not :o wondler if we are tired of him, seeing that ye arc indebted for the honor of his yisit sole y to the circumstance of his bebag tired of simelf. AN IRISIIMAN, tried for marrying six wives m being asked how he could be such a hardene rilian asto delude so many, replied with great monealance: " Why, plaze yer 'worship, I wa iryin sgt enadne i THE ARI8 IIFBDITIOlN. Mosements of C. Crabb before hii Capture. We havealread announced the capture and execution of Col. H A. Crsbb, and sixty of his followers, by the exican authorities ofS norn, which State he had invad6d with a design of Americanising and re'volutlonizing it. We find in a Mexican paper a lettri. dred by him to the Prefect of the D*t''lbf'Aftai- on his entry into Sonora, which we trmnslate.Ea ekange. - SoXomA March 26,1857. " To Don Joe Maria Redonda, Prefect qfgAth District of Atar: "In conformitf to the colonization la-f Mexico, and in compliance with urgent ini tions from the most influential citizens of Sono ra, I have come within the limits of this State bringing with me one hundred companions, and in advance of nine hundred others, with thede sign of obtaining for ourselves happier homes with and among you, I have come with the in tention of offending no 6ne, and without in trigues, public or private. On reaching this. place I have made no hostile demonstration; on the contrary, I have made pacific proposi tions. " It is very true that I amaprovided with arm" and muiona; bu4 you already gew that Is - not the ctutom of Americans, or any other , . ilized people to travel unarmed. More 1, will be well o consider that'we ave to a tiiough places where the Appaches commit their depredations continually. Yet I learn, to my great surprise that you are taking measures of hostility and are assembling a force to exter minate me and my companions. I know that you have given orders to have the wells poi soned,*and that yotri inclined to use weipong' of the vilest and Usaesttind "But, beware, sir, lest that all we may have to suf'er recoil upon your own. head and the; heads of those who accompany you. I dot*t believe that you will disgrace yourself byisueli barbarous acts. I know well ta you have en deavored, by perfidious offers, to excite igainist us the friendly tribe of Papegos but Ihave f son to believe that your efforts., have not suo; ceeded. "I have come Into your countrj. because I have the right to follow the c6mmid'dustrial maximnsand frm-the moment of my a"ial as I have already given proof, Iexpected to be received with open arms., iut now, I learn that I am to expect death, at - the hands of an enemy lost to all feeling of humanity. As to my present companions and those who are to come after me, I protest against all severe measures. "Finally you have to come to a decision, and bear this in mind; if blood flows, itwill all flow back on your heads and not on mine. You may rest assured, however while making your hostile preparations, that I intend to go on in the object that I have long contemplated. I am only waiting for the rest of my forces, Iam lea der, and my Intention is to do A I shall Judge bast In conformity with the- natural laWand the instinct of self-preservation. Until we meet at Altar, I am Your obedient servant, HENRY A. CRAD. READABLE PARIAGRIAI IW The man whose feelings were " worked up" has obtained a fresh supply. - S Why should a little boy be careful to watch the conduct of his papa's sister? Because the Bible says: " Consider the ways of the aunt and be wise." 01 "Paddy," says a joker . "why don't you wet your ears cropped-they are entirely too long For a man ? "And yours," replied Pat, "ought to be lengthened-they are too short for an ass." 3WPcrEs.-An excellent way to- make pickles that will keep a year or more, ito to drop them into boiling water, but not boil them; let them stay in ten minutes, wipe them dry, and drop into cold spiced vinegar, and they will not need to be put into salt and water, and always ready for use. aS" Drawing a mistake or a prejudice out of the head is as painful as drawing a tooth, and the patient never thanks the operator. It is a very hard matter to unlearn anything. &' A Woxis'sRivExN.-He-ster Simons in Troy ,has been fined $75 for disinterring the corpse of the husband of a widow lady with whom she had a quarrel, and upon whom she thus vent ed her spite. That's the latest invention of. feminine cruelty. W " Talk of the inferiority of the female mind," exclaimed an excited oratorian : " Why, Mr. President, woman possesses infinitely more of the divine afilatus than man, and any one 'vho attempts to get around her in these days, will have to start very early in the morning." aS*Two boys' one of them blind of one eye, were discussing the merits of their respective ruas ters. " How many hours do you get for. sleep?" asked one. "Eight," replie the other. "Eight I why I only gets four." "Ah 1" replie the first, "but recollect you have only got one eye to close, and I have two." "'THE TEAeHER PosED.-A teacher asked a bright little girl " What country is opposite us on the globe? "Don't know sir," was the answer. "IWell now," pursued the teacher, "if I were to bore a hole through the earth, and you were to go in at this end, where would von come out?'' " Out of the hole, sirl" replied the pupil with an air of triumph. & Sowixo GARDEN Smsn.--Alldlat seed should be sown edgewise, for if laid fiat on the ground they are apt to rot ; and if this misfortune does not befaull them they do not germinate so readily This accounts for failures amongst gourds, melons, and cucumbers. IS An old Revolutioner says, that of All: t he solemn hours hoeover saw, that occupied in going home one dlatk night from the widow Oem's, aft'beag toldhy her daughter Sally that he ~Meedn't come again," was the most solemn. & "Mu' D-,if you'll get my pants done by Saturdav, I shall be forever indebted to you.' " If thai's v'our game they'll not be dlone, sure," said the tailor. W' The Supreme Court of Ohio has deci~d that a wife is of no pecuniary value to her hius band ; that if she be killed by a railroad accidents ho cannot recover damages there'for. IS" A clergyman was censuring a Young lady for tight lacing. " Why," replied the arch Miss, "von would not recommend louse habits to your p~arishmioners ?" The eleigymanm thus outwiated, smiles thoughtfully, aS lRearing a man say that political papers nf alfl kinds "had become such liars that for his part, he did not believe any of them," reminds mec of the old story of the miller and his three sons. Coming to'the mill, and finding a grist inm the hopper, the oldl man eried out : " Bill, hame yon tolIled this grist r "Yes, sir."' "Jim, have von tolled this grist ?" " Yes, sir." "kHeny, have you tolled this grist ?" "Yeesir." "-You are'. all a pack of lying scoundIrels." says the old ipan. "[Ido~n't believe a worl of whafyou say JPHl toll it maic"