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pp I?_| , ,,11 ^ --^- -: - ?. ... DEYOED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE. VOLUME I. LANCASTER, C. H? SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 2, 1853. NUMBER 51 lllfi LANCASTER LEDGER 18 PUBLISHED EVERY " ^WEDNESDAY MORNING. * St. 8. BAILEY, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. TERMS: Two Dollars per year, if paid in advance; Two Dollar* and Fifty Cent*, if paid in nix month*; or Three Dollar*, if payment is delayed until the end of the year. These term* will be rigidly adhered to. Advertisement* will be conspicuously Inserted at seventy-five cent* per square of twelve lines, for the first insertion, and thirty-seven and a half cent* for each subsequent insertion. A single insertion One Dollar. Nothing will bo counted less than a square. Advertiser* arc requested to state, in writing on their advertisements, the numIber of times they wish them inserted; or they will be continued in the paper until ordered out, and charged accordingly.* The Law ef newspaper*. 1, All subserilx-rs who do not give extwaaa Vsvtien Ia lIiA AAnlvurv ora oAnsi/1 ered an wishing to continue their subcriptions. 2. If subscriber* order the discoutinuanco ?f their papers, the publishers may continue to send them until arrearages t are paid. 3. If subscribers neglect or refuse taking their papers from the offices to which they are sent, they arc held responsible till their bills are settled, and their papers ordered to be discontinued. 4. The Courts hare decided that refusing to take a newspaper or periodical from the office, or removing and leaving it uncalled for, is prima facte evidence of INTENTIONAL FRAUD. ALL KIHD8 OF JOB PRINTING EXECUTED WITH HEATHENS ASI> Ur.srAT.HI At this Office. aw*- . $flprtfii <Tnips. THE CASKKTJOF JEWELS. A Christaiai Story. nr mks. aornnoMA currier. In a small and scantily furnished, but ticat and very comfortable apartment, sat Mrs. Tracy, a widow of forty years, und* her daughter Marion, a lovely girl of seventeen. It was a cold night in I>eceinl?er. The shrill wind blew furiously, and to its shrill piping* merrily danced the light, feathery snoa-flakes which had boon falling through the day. The old sign-board over the way creaked loudly as it was swayed to and fro by tho bln?t; and many a loosened blind, and worn window frame of tbe large, but old dilapidated building, of which the widow rented a single room, was loudly clattering; but the cold wind found no avenue to that little apartment. With her own hand*, Mrs. Tracy had made tight, with putty, and bits of brok- | en glass, the cracked window panes; the senms in the walls had been covered w ith strips of paper, und a carjx-t of tier own manufacture hid the wide cracks in the floor; while tho old stove, which had been polished till it looked ns good as new, sent out such a genial warmth that winter strove in vain to trace its frost flgurcs on the windows. The apartment was very comfortable; a single glance would tell that its occupants were poor, but there w as even an air of elegance and refinc* tuent about it; and though the work with which the females were employing themselves so busily, showed that they were dependant on their noodles for their support, % they found time, too, it was evident, to minister to tho wnnta of the mind. On tlie little work table lay books, very plainly bound, to bo sure, but new and valuable;?materials for drawing and painting, and several sheets of music, to one of which the eye of Marion was frequently straying; and by tho young girl was an old-fashioned, but very sweet toned gunar, lor now hiiu men, u aiiu iiiiliiiiteu the sprightly Air, Iter finger* ran over the strings; several painting*, one of them a beautiful thing, in a pretty though inexjKsiutivr frame, hung against the wall, and on a little flower stand wero two or three brightly blossoming plant*. The timepiece above the fire-|>laco struck the hour of acren; and Marion, first ascertaining that the eye of her mother was not rotting on her, stole softly to the mirror. The simple dross was most neatly arranged; the white collar, turned over the bit of pink satin ribbon, was perfectly smooth; and nothing could be more beau, tiful and rracefal than those rich, dark curls, which clustered around her face, and foil over her shoulders, untees it was that same Unshing face, or that snowy neck; yet tltoee bright, black eyes had no', in them a satisfied expression, aa they gased on the figure before them; and her finger* moved nervously about her dress, and among those dark ringWta, while she turned now and then en uneasy glance towards the window, until a footstep was heard beneath U, aod then *he hurried back to her seat, and bent, very demurely, over her sewing; and when the door of the apartment opened, and n young man entered the mom, she looked np aw eni ' 0^ # I * - * W * A quiringly as it the visitor had been wholly i unexpected; but ob, M" :on, you could < not keep back that deep blush, and that smile of welcome; and when that tall, i handsome young man took your little I hand in his, you could not help returning I the fond pressure, and your lip would ' whisper, though in the faintest tone possi- 1 ble,?"Dear Henry!" i Mrs. Tracy greeted the young man very i cordially, but he rather avoided meeting the enquiring glance which she directed < towards hiin. After a few brief words, in return to the salutation of the mother, ] he took a seat by the fire, and leaned his i head thoughtfully on his hand. Marion i took up again the sewing which she had i laid aside for a moment, and bent lower i over it than she had dono before, perhaps i to hide the tears which wore fast falling i on that now pale cheek; but Mrs. Tracy's i work fell from her hand, and leaning | back in her chair, she fixed her eyes on i the young man. The expression of her ' features was sorrowful, but calm and deter- < mined. "And you have failed, Henry Williams!" she said, after a few moments' sil- I ence. 1 "I have!" I Marion could no longer restrain her i feelings, but sobbed alound. "I have failed!" repeated the young ] man, as lie rose from his scat and strode l up and down the apartment, "and the de- < cision of the umpire was just; the accept- i ed painting was far better than my own!" his voice was almost choked with suppress- ' d agony. t "And you should not regret it, Henry!" ' said Mrs. Tracy, "I am not sorry at your i want of success." < "Should not regret it!" repeated the < young man, as he turned a reproachful i look linnn li.?r "shonl.l not r.wrrot it -j 1 ?- - "b'v" ""v"i if I had succeeded, I might in another ' week liave called Marion my own. Do i you regret having promised me her?" < "Henry, vou understand me very well," 1 aid Mrs. 1 racy, mildly; "the work you undertook to perform was unworthy your t talent?for a Heaven-given talent you |>ossesa?and you felt ao interest in the , task beyond the anxiety to obtain the t promised reward for the painting. You , despised the faulty model you were to follow, and your feelings were continually irritated that you were not allowed to improve on the original. Your ill success, instead of discouraging you, should incite | you to nobler effort." "If you will give me an object to toil for," sai 1 the young man, "I will not be disheartened. Say that Marion ahnll be < mine on Christmas eve, and 1 will And , some employment which will bring us a , comfortable support. If need be, I can , devote all the little energy 1 imjsscs*, to , something beside painting. ] "Ah, Henry, that is the very reason I why 1 will not grant your request," said j Mrs. Tracy, "but with my consent?and < without it I am certain you will never try < to persuade her to become yours, since you i are sure it is your interest as well as hers i that 1 have in view in desiring to delay ] your marriage?Marion shall never help I you to bury the talents you possess, nor to \ degrade them. She is hut a child yet, ( and you, too, are young; when another j year shall have passe*], we will talk again of this matter." "Another year of ueedful preparation for the duties of life!" returned Mrs. Tracy. Marion had risen from her seat w hen the conversation turned on herself, and (Ifiitt'ilwr luiilo fli? Atirfuin p> ? ? ' grieved and confused countenance looked into the street. The wind had lulled its breath, but the night was so intensely cold there were few |?edestrians abroad; there was one, however, whose appearance was so singular that Marion, notwithstanding the agitation of her feelings, could not help observing it. Twico he walked the length of the avenue of which the window commanded a view, moving along at a rapid rate when the light of the street, t lamps fell full upon him, and pausing in the shadow when no one was near him; and more than once he emerged frotn a dark corner in a different dress. Marion felt certain that the individual who passed the window in a black clonk and broadbrimmed hat, five minutes after hurried by in a drab-colored wrapper and closelyfitting, cap. There was another eye on him l*eside Marion's, and the second time he passed by the window a policeman seixed him by the shoulder. There was a scuffle be I tween them, and when they had passed ! dots:: the street, M?rk>n saw something I glittering in tlie snow beneath the win-! dow. A moment after, the young girl put into her rootlter's hand an ebony eaelcet inlaid with pearl and gold, and adorned with several precious stones. The spring which fastened the box had been broken, and when Marion lifted the lid, such a display of rich and ooatly ornaments was presented to her view, that she was almost overcome with astonishment; and even Henry Williams uttered an exclamation of surprise and admiration. "Mother, has not Providence sent us |Ka araalfK wo an mitok ? aa IIW I ' Marion, half jestingly, and balf in earnest. "These ornaments are worth hundred* of dollars, are they not, llenryf The young man smiled. "This bracelet alone,? he said, Mis worth whet to you and me would he a fortune. This stone is a real diamond! You never saw one before, Marion!1* "No, did you, mother!11 Hut Mrs. Tracy did not heed the words of the young people. For a few moments she sat motionless, with her eyea Used upon the casket;?had they not been so intent in eiaraining the contents, her companions would have been terrified at the expression of her countenance, and then ? ** ? 1 * , * . * 0f t ^ * * fa i * * * (be took lip the rich ornaments one by pne and carefully examined them. "They aro all here," she said, "yes, every one, from tho rich bandeau, which was jo have been the prico of tny soul, to the ittle circlet first clasped upon my arm.? rhey aro all here, and the advertisements to-morrow morning will tell me. where I nay find him. Ilcaven grant my suspicons may not be confirmed!" Williams and Marion exchanged glanc?. "You aro doubting my sanity!" said Mrs. Tracy. "Tho owner of this wealth was once known to me. lie silent rcspectng it; I will return it to him," and she idded, moro to herself than to them?"it nav be my own again, but I will accept lot'hing from his hand,?no, if ho offered ne all this wealth, I would accept nothing jnless his forgiveness and blessing accompanied the giu!" and returning the Jewels igain to their place in the casket, and notwithstanding tho visible spring was broken, tightly fastened tho lid, Marion and Williams could not conceive how. It was not until she had deposited the tiox in a secretary and locked the drawer, .hnt the strange expression passed away rrom her countenance, and even then it was but part ally composed, "Henry!" she said, "I must have a painting; it must be a large and beautiful thing, and it must be completed -before Christmas evening. Take your pencil *nd sketch while 1 describe to you." The young man sat down by Mrs. l'racy and undeavored to put on paper tho tcene which she pictured to him in terms which surp iscd both Marion and himself, *nd he paused often in his task to gaze pn that flushed, nervous countenance, which ho had before seen only dignified ?nd composed. "The sketch is perfect now!" said Mrs. Tracy, as, when an hour had passed aw r, die took the paper in her hand, and add*1 a few lines to'the drawing. "Can you finish tho?painting before Christinas!" Williams promised to make the attempt. "Ami have you nothing more to say to ne, madam," ho added, "in relation to lie subject of which we spoke an hour >incef" "Yes!" said the lady, "if the painting is inch as I expect it will l>c, and if it effects he purpose which 1 liojni it will accomplish, your request shall be granted,? Marion shall be yours on Christmas evenThe week had passed away, and it was Christmas night. The bright stars looked lown from the clear, blue heaven as sweet oid lovingly as on that night when a ilrauge ami glorious luminary was added :o their host, and the winter wind held [>aek its ruder breath, and in low, gentle :one whispered the song chanted so long tgo on the hills of Judea, bill whose jchoes shall only deepen as they pass lown time, till each mountain, and valley, ind plain, each wilderness and each desert sle, all lauds ami all seas, and,?Great Heaven, I thank Thee!?each human leart shall join in the deep chorus, outroicin^ all discordant notes?"Glory to 3od in the highest, peace on earth, and jood will to men!" An old man looked out from his winlow, up to the calm, bright heaven, and >ver the city (in whose suburbs be lived) tow so brilliantly illuminated. His eye ens dim, and tbat old, broken garret w inlow was darkened with the dust and cobvehs of vears. but lie could see the smrs y t " """"" winkling to each other; to him they secm il not smiling on the earth, at least they were not smiling on him,?they were far >tr and cold, and their brightness and joy ut deepened the darkness and gloom in lis soul, lie could nee, too, yea, though lis eye was dimmer than it had ever been before, lie could look into the dwellings 10 brilliantly lighted, he could see the gorgeously decorated apartments, even hrough those thick, heavy curtains, and .ho gay and happy assemblages there convened; he could mark tho costly attire ind the display of gold and precious stones; .he Christmas tree, with tho rich and varied fruits hanging from its pendant xiughs; the festoons of evergreen which lad been made to hang on the wull, and :o yield a product nature had not taught lie plant to give, lie could hoar, though lis ear had lost the scuteness of youth, .lie songs of joy and mirth; tho voices of ho light hearted children, as they clustersi around tho tree, peering in among the green branches, to see whose, name was narked on the lieautiful toy which gleamsi like a jewel in the bright light, and egging papa to make tho liotigh* let fall :he fruits which seemed so entirely to have reached perfection. In the pauses of the gay dance he heard, blended with music ?nd song, the whispered words of affection >f maturer and happier, but atill youthrul heart*; and in the countenancea of kiiuiM-, whuwj mrruwwi uruwH 9IIK1 lilvering hair told that life for them waa ilmoat over, there waa a smile of deep and juiot joy, a look which aaid there waa leas regret for the peat, than comfort in the present and hope for the future. a The poor old man! there waa no look ?n hi* brow which told of sympathy, and Ilia ebbing pulse heat not once in unison with their*. lie looked, too, through the coarsely :urtainod window of the poor. Joy as full waa there, and deeper gratitude, pertiapa, to Heaven. The patron saint had txren rather niggardly of hi* gifu, but yet tech child had something, and the prelents would bfc moat useful to them that told winter. Charley had a pair of warm itout shoe*, little Kraddy a new flannel 'rock, and Mary the reading book she had >ecn wanting so long. In ere were few oya Ixwiden what their Wsr hidf manu facthred, and the confectionary was of their mother's making, and frugal atid plain was their supper; but the faces which gathered around it,?how they beamed i witli happiness! There were no brighter ; little cyin, and no smoother golden curls in the city than ^re there; and the cheek of the fairest lacTy wore no lovelier hue, ; nor did her heart beat more joyously than did that of the elder sister, when a well- : known manly tread was heard on the : threshold of the humble dwelling; and the millionaire was no ?icher and prouder | man that night than was the poor labor- 1 cr when he gazed on his healthful and j happy family. Hut the poor old man w ho looked from j the garret window, no more felt sympa- j thy with these; and he raised his trein- ? bling hand to let fall the curtain, for he felt it impossible to contemplate longer those scenes of joy. The rude garret, however, hfld never boasted a covering ! for its solitary window, but had it done so I it could not have shut out those pictures from his gaze,?they were engraven on j his heart, and their reflection he saw in ; every thing about him. lie turned away : from the window and sat down by the lit- j tie furnace which was so scantily supplied | with coals that the benumbed lingers scarcely felt the warmth. A lamp llick- | ered in a corner, just brightly enough to | show the gloom and desolateness of the apartment, and the wan, haggard countenance of the old man, now more than usually forlorn and hopeless in its expression; for he felt,?and perhaps it was so, there was not, in the whole city, that fair Chrismas night, a being so utterly wretched as himself. There was not one face to smile | on him, not one to wish him joy ; the old | man knew not that in all the wide world I there was one who would tliiu'c of him | that night, though lie had lived so long I litl (Ko imftli nn.l it...ior ll.i.i t v?< VI., nia??-iv ll.Ill, I the dimming eye, the pale furrowed cheek, j and the tottering steps told that but for a brief period longer human kindness would affect him. And wherefore was it so? Alas, alas! as his heart asked of itself the question, the old man's head sank on his breast, and > an involuntary sigh escaped him. The friend in whom he had trusted, whom the child had learned to love and revere, for whom the youth had forgotten pleasure, and the man all rational enjoyment,?tor whose sake he had been the unnatural brother, the undutiful son, the purjured lover, and the cruel father,?this friend which he had preferred to every thing on earth,?in w hom his hope was stronger than it was in Heaven, had fail< ?| him in | his hour of need,?it had become his bit- I tercst enemy. In all the city then* were but few men whose wealth exceeded his, and yet he was so wrotehed that, at this hour, when his eye would look on the present, and bis memory would bring up the past, ho would gladly have exchanged sitj nations with the meanest beggar on the I earth. Instead of the sweet music it^oiice [ whispered in his ear, lulling the voice of conscience,?the clink of that counted treasure fell on his heart like the stunning thunder-holt. A lifetime of toil that the dying head might rest on a pillow of thorns! How clear and bright shone the m<<on and stars! what a soft, gentle radiance came through the frosted window panes [ as the dim lamp went out,?soft, hut ! cold,?Oh how terrible cold was every- ' Uiiug about him! The old mail threw a handful of coals 1 on the expiring tire, and crouched down ; beside the little furnace. Had one been j 1 lluiro A leu.lf <!tl 1 .? ?-! that pale, inanimate face, one might have thought the torpor of death was creeping over him ; but it whs not even sleep which was enchaining his faculties,?it was the dying of the light of the soul. Most feebly for a long time past had burned that light, few were the rays it had shed over his winter's night, and now it was going out j forever; yet again and again the dickering . Hame streamed up, and by its glare he saw,?the man could not close his mental vision,?all ho one. was,?all Le might i have been. How distinct were those scenes in the past, ns they moved before bitn in panoramic view. The old man was a child again,?a little boy in the village school. It was a cold winter's day ; the snow was lying I thick on the earth and the wind was blow- 1 inj? so wildly that the most hardy of Ihe | children were gat here* I with their timid companions around the fire, preferring to spend the short noon recess in the school- I house at the risk of their dinner, to expos ! ing themselves to the freezing air. ? )tut 1 one little boy, a child of eight ye^rs, w;is preparing to go home. Tip; warm wrapper was closely buttoned around liiiu, the | handsome rap was drawn down over that , fair brow, the fur collar was fastened about ; his neck, and thick mittena encased his hands ; and he stood among his comprm- | ions impatiently waiting the arrival ol John with the sleigh to take him home. ' In a corner of the wide fire-place, and occupying a* small a apace an they conveniently cotild>ato<Ml two children, a girl of aevon, and her little brother, not more than five yearn of age. They were very thinly clad, and their sad faces told of want and suffering. The countenance of the younger child, especially, exhibited strong symptoms of diseaso; the full brow was marble-like in hue, the dark eyo had in it a startling brilliancy, and in the J cherflt there burned at times, a bright 1 crimson spot. The feeble child should have been in his bed instead of the school- 1 room, but hie mother knew he would be ' more comfortable there than any wltcre else she could put him, and when the poor ' washer-woman went to her daily labor, > , she had wrapped him up as well as she j m i iff" * \ ' * 4# " ^ was able, and had carried hi u to the school house. The children were wholly unnoticed by their companions, except now and then when they were rudely pushed by some one who wished a stand near tne tire. The little girl was endeavoring, in a low whisper, to persuade her brother to eat the thin slice of dry bread their mother had given tliein for their dinnir. "Eat it, dear Charley !" she would say, "it is sweet and good !" and to the hungry child it seemed indeed a tempting morsel 4?and mother will have something nicer still for our suppers to-night *, you know she promised it!" lint the delicate appetite of the sick boy refused the dry, hard food. "Oh, Mary, I can't! it makes me sick to look at it; but if I only had an apple,? see that red apple in Bernard's hand !? Oh, if 1 only had an apple! Don't you think lie would give me a piece of it, if you onlv asked him ?" won't vou ask him, Marv ?" The poor child ! it was a dreadful task, for a little proud heart was beating under that mean coarse attire ; but when she looked into the sad, wistful eyes of her little brother, she summoned courage to do it. "Charley is sick, Bernard !" she said, "lie cannot eat his dinner, and he eat no breakfast either this morning. Will you give him a little pieee of your apple?" The children were, so mueh surprised to see 1 it tit; Mary Cordon, who was tre.-?tcd with sueli neglect by her schoolmates that she seldom ventured to address one of them, speaking to' Bernard Trask, who considered himself so much superior to any of his companions, that tlicy paused in their play and listened, to her words.? Boor little Marv ! her heart almost failed I ... .1... ,...11" n-v 1 1 1 ii* i <11 iim: mm* i?*ii MiCIH't', UIKl MIC COUKI hardly falter out her re.piest. The whole grouplaughed aloud as they liearil it, and "Beggar, beggar!" was relented by more than one thoughtless child. But there was something in her countenance which attracted the little hoy's attention, and he stood twirling the a|>|>lc by the stein, and looking in her now crimsoned face; perhaps lie would have put it into her hand, but while he was hesitating, an older boy ottered him two cents 'or it, and Bernard gave up the fruit and deposited the coppers in his pocket, just as his father's beaut iful bay horse and handsome sleigh eaire up to the door. Bernard was wrapped up warmly in a butfalo robe and carried to his home; but when lie sat at his father's table, covered as it was with delicacies, he could not help remembering how Mary Cordon looked | as he stepped out of the school room door standing bv her little brother* with one arm nhout his neck, and wiping his eyes with her apron, though she could not restrain her own fast (lowing tears. The two cents were very heavy in the little hnv's pocket, and he could not relish his dinner. Mr?. Trask could not allow her darling to go out again in the snow that day, hut the next morning Bernard heard that Charley Cordon had sobbed himself sick the afternoon before,that when the school was half done Mary had carried him home in her arms; and when their mother returned from her work, an hour after, she found her children almost frozen. In two days more, little CI urley was dead. "I did not know Mrs. Cordon was so jenir;" remarked Mrs. Trask. "It is said those children have been snfleritior all w in- I ter for ?><><1 and clothing. Why have von never said anything about it, Bernard?' Von must have known how poorly they were cl id, at least." [to UK rontinl'KO. j Bine Beard and his Castle. The ruins of the Chateau do la Verier, on tlie hanks of the Krdre, in the dcpaitincut of the Loire Interietire, are according to the tradition of tho neighboring jieasantrv, those of the castle of the eele hrated Blue Heard, the hero of the well know n nursery tale. The formidable per- { soiiage, who is not altogether a creature l of fancy, was Giles do Helz, who lived in [ the reign of Charles N IL, and was a vest- j sal of John I Mike of Bretnngs. lie was t*ied at Nantes on suspicion of having destroyed a number of children, who had been seen to enter the castle, and were never heard of afterwards. The Iks lies of several were afterwards found, lit! having caused them to be put to death to make use of their blood in writing charms and forming incantations to rise infernal spirits, by whose means ho "u-licved, according to the horrid superstitions <>f the times, that hurried treasures wonnl be revealed to him. On bis trial, he confessed the most horrid act* of fttniC'tV- ntid U1I? n.nl..niw.l O. bo burned alive; Kilt tlio duke caused liim j tola* strangled la-fore lie was tied to ibe | stake. Tliu execution took place bccei.I>er 2Mb, I84<?, and a detailed account of it ia still preserved in the*archives of Nantea. A meml?er of a Legislature, who indulged himself in afternoon naps requested hia frienda to awaken him when the lumber net catne on. He omitted it by forgetful ness, but accidontly gave him a jug aa the house waa discussing a bill to prevent fraud?Old ah-epy-hend startled, rublted his eyea, ami exclamed,' Mr. Speaker, a word or two upon that bill 4?>r more thnn one half ot my constituent a get* their living no other way!' It haa law) remarked that the gallows waa an institution for the elevation of man kind! I to S * s ^Igrirultmnl. Hints for the Farmei\ Til K OKCItAKl). Plant among your trees; ]>lant oniony your trees ; then after yon have taken off your corn and other crops, you can look back upon your shorn field and see that in addition to the produce secured, you have the growth on your three or four acres of trees. In a few years you will begin to take more from the trees than you do from the land. They will grow faster, and bear more generously if the land is kept mellow for the roots, and suflieient nutriment is spread broadcast for the roots to feed upon. Now to take the level place where you have your young orchard,and go carefully with a steady team; don't hitch on the steers for this job; plough the land deep and well, manure it broadcast liberally, work the manure down into the soil with a small plough or large cultivator, plant, hoe, till, and your trees will grow like the corn itself. You will caution the boys in dropping the corn not to plant a kernel within six or eight feet of the trees; they need sun and air, and grow better when nothing grows near them. .lust read what the late Mr. Cole says in the "American Fruit l?ook." "Mr. Moses Jones, of llrooklinc, in this vicinity, a most skillful cultivator, set I 12 apple trees, two rods apart, and peach trees between, both ways. The eighth year he bad '228 hbls. of apples, and in a few years from setting the trees, *400 worth of peaches in one year; and the best, of the story is that a Inge crop of vegetables was raised on the same land, nearly paying for the manure and labor. The tentii year from setting, many of the apple trees produced four or live barrels of apples each, the land still yelding good crops of vegetables."?[ Ohio Former.J Sweet Potatoes Cultivated in Level Ground. Mrssns. Editors?At the Annual Fair of the Southern Central Agricultural Society, held in Macon in October last. I had the honor of la vim? before the Societv nil essay *?n "Hie cultivation and preservation of the Sweet l'otatoe." In that paper I had occasion to refer to an experiment which 1 made some years ago ,with an acre of l'otntoes planted from vines (not sprouts) in the level, on the 10th day of .1 line, 'l ite product, mulrr yrrat 'fixmi i'nn hi'/r.x, was over Got) bushels* I I planted this year a small piece of ground in potatoes, ami gave it the same tuat| uieiit. While I was engaged in writing tie- essay alluded to (which was about the middle of October,) I had a part of the i level ground dug, and found that it protn1 ised t?> yield at the rate of live or six hun! dred bushels to the acre. This result 1 l reported t<? the Society. Since frost ! (which occurred three weeks^later) 1 have harvested, and measured the reinaiudci I of the crop, in the presence of a disiitI (crested person. The level ground yielded at the rate of G 8 bushels to the acre. 1 | have no doubt that an acre of laud plan! led in potatoes early in May, and treated | as w as the ground on which my experiment was n ado, would yield from eight hundred to a thousand bushels. My ex perinient served to confirm me in an opinion w hich 1 have long held, viz: That "Ileal White," or "Hermuda lied," w ill not bear heavy manuring. A part of the ground was occupied with that variety, and the potatoes were inferior to the yams in size, while the product was much less. I have alw ays been successful in keeping potatoes in banks, but as it is a slow and laborious business to put thein up in that w ay, I propose if my life is spared another year, to substitute a house for at least a part of the crop. I shall construct my house with slabs from the saw mill. Their edges will he straightened and brought together. They will be laid on a low i_ . i. i ?-ii i - i * * ? imp' |pine, himi win do |>iac<*u at sucn an alible a* will admit of tlioir holding a thick covering of straw and crth. The straw will be laid on next to the slabs, and the eart s alxm*. The door will be small and close. The whole area of the house will Im ruined and covered with dry straw. I prefer .that of the pine for the protection of potatoes?next after it brooinsedge, and where neither can be procured, rye or wheat straw may be made to answer. The art of preserving potatoes, consists in keeping them dry, and at an uniform temperature, which should he neither too high nor too low. Yours, truly, Tkhtis. Irish Anecdotes. I An anecdote has gone the rounds of tliu papers several times, to the effect that a newly lauded Irishman, out shooting one day, took down a fine freshly imported Maltese 1 >oiikey for a rabbit, with a double load from his shooting iron. Now our Erin friends, undoubtedly make a great in *fty witty mistakes, but this is not one of them; ami it tells more against the narrator than against the Irish. For, if there t>e an annual the Irishmen know more about than any other, it is the Donkey, a common and favorite beast of burden of their country. The joke wont do, our friend liilly Hunter of C. will bear us out in it. A more probable affair was that happening with our friend Hilly himself,, who soon after coming to Amorikv, shot at a young Duffy up a tree for a monkey. Fortunately Duffy was not hurt; Hilly thinking pointer alone would do the business, and had put no shot on top of it. L * a _'Vfe ' ' <1 i A Hermit Burnt out. The Cecil Democrat furnishes the following item: "Andrew Job, the hermit, who has lived | in the forest on the holders of Chester and Cecil counties for fifty years past, was burnt out on Saturday night last, the old dilapidated building, in which he has so long resided, having been reduced to ashes. I he fire originated in this wise: The old man, who is now about HO years of .age, was unwell, for the first time within fifteen or twenty years. Thinking to bo more comfortable through the night, ho made up a larger fire than usual, and took ! up his position somewhat nearer to it.? The sticks having burnt in two, fell over and scatteied the fire,-it is supposed, out upon the floor. When theold man awoke, the house was on fire, and the fire had communicated to his own clothes. The house was speedily reduced to ashes. He has since taken up his residence with Mr. Daniel Job, his nephew, of this county, ; who resides a few miles from the lirick Meeting House. "The hermit is upwards of 80 years of age, of stout, muscular frame, and remarkable for his strength, llis hair and beard descend to his waist, and neither have felt the comb or razor for half a century. His" flesh is rough and husky, and a stranger to the purification of water. I lis clothing consist of a blanket thrown over his shoulders and tied round the waist, descending nearly to his feet. His feet in cold weather are wrapped in ragsj His j voice is hollow and sepulchral. He con| verses freely and cheerfully with visitors, I when they deport themselves respectfully, otherwise he has very little to say, and seems to shun those who regard hiinmcrej ly as an object of curiosity, llis neigh| bors send him many of the necessaries of | life, and he receives their favors without j manifesting any gratitude, or troubling I himself to .return thanks for their kindI ness. It is said, in the neighborhood, that . the reason of his leading the life of a re| cluse, was that he was crossed in love; j since which time he has not beheld tho face of a woman with pleasure, and even sent from him his own sister, who former I ly shared his dotnicil with him. llis sistor was older than himself, and lived to i the advanced ago of 9'J. She died a week j or two ago. It is thought thai the change j in the old man's manner of living will j >horten his days, as lie seems much averse j to society in his new home." A Lucky Fellow. We met a friend of ours the other morning in the streets, just front the nioun| tains, where he was horn and raised, who : observed to its that he was fifty years old j the Saturday preceding, and had never ! taken a dose of medicine it. his life! This I induced us to ask hint if he had escaped i the lawyers as well as the doctors, where' upon he replied that he had never had a ' lawsuit of any kind, sued or been sued in . I court, <>r before a magistrate! Wo assured . j hint he was a most lucky fellow to have . [ escaped for tifty years two stult evils as | doctors and lawyers, for they had, during ; that time, skinned and killed many a poor | fellow, and rich otto, too. j In characterizing the three learned proI fessions, as they have been called, of law, I inedicino and divinity, a distinguished 1 South Carolinian once remarked to us ' that the one robbed, tho other killed, and : the third were apt to send all who im| plicitlv followed them to a place which wo w ill not name, but which was not Heaven. This severe criticism was rather more harsh than ours to the friend al?ove alluded to, and certainly general than wo j could think of making it. Chreenville Patriot. I . jt-fT Widow Grizzle whose romarkn b!e conjugal affections was chronicled in the Post some months since, had an only sister. That sister is now a widow also. Her lord died lately ot cholic. In the 1 midst of his most acute bodily pain, after ! the hand of death had touched him, and | while writhing in agony, his gentle wife said to him?"Well, Mr. Schlook, yon , needn't kick round so and wear the sheet all out if you are a dying!" 1'rook ok Civilization.?Prince Puckt ler Muskeen in his last work tells a story I of a shipwrecked mariner, who was cast away upon what he believed an uninhnbited island, till suddenly beholding a gallows, ho roared out, in a burst of joy, "God l?e praised, I'm in a civilized land." * JC-eT A sharp talking lady was roprov, ?*1 by her husband, who requested her to keep her tongue in her mouth. "My dear," responded me wire, "it is against tlio law to carry concealed weapons." Pleasant Tnii*.?A friend of ours was congratulating himself upon having recently taken a vary pleasant trip. Upon inquiry we found he had tripped and fell into a young lady's lap. &-4T Pythagoras gave this excellent precept: Choose always the way that seems l?st how rough soever it may be.? , Custom will reader it easy and agreeable. [ 'lhave filed ^petit(8h'for relief,' as the criminal said when he escaped from prison.