Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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-* f ' - -?rr> w " > t ? . ;| ? * *?? - ? - . ?- . ,.., ^4 * -j _ ? 4 ^ . ?*.i? *% ?-<6| ft ">?? ?-? **- JLir -n- -, , ?. t ' -~. * -- "^T' N nfc. .. -?.^2 $2 per annum. sras 5S3ftS32?uz^??..,. in advance * --4? - NEUTRAL IN POLITICS?DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, SCIENTIFIC, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE. VOLUME III. LANCASTER, C. H., SOUTH CAROLINA. WEDNESDAY MORNING, JULY 26,1854. NUMBER 24: flflppprp V|1 W'^ 8'n?u'#r r?pidity everything of a | "O, yes," uid Grace, who I soon anw I to t?ll m? *n...? liitl* n?vt..?0- ?r ?- 1 -u:-1- ' L- 1 * * * 1-1 OCiUCiUl IflbEn). l)p^rmikl^iougpr; OR, HINTS FOR HINTERS. X few years ago?no matter how matiy or how few they might be, for the circumstance which I am going to narrate might have been equally likely to occur at any time, or at any place?being deprived of the beloved home in which I had passed my earlier years, I retired into a neighborhood with which I was wholly unacquainted, and the inhabitants of which were to ine entire strangers. I am somewhat of a social turn, also of a sanguine temperament; and as is natural to mina 01 mmi stamp, 1 liad formed many very pleasant schemes for my future ' life; and having heard that there was a 1 circle of very agreeable society in the place to which I had several satisfactory letters ' of introduction, not a few of thoee schemes * were based on the valuable friendships I an I pleasant acquaintances I expected to 1 f ?nn. My comfortable cottage home was 1 situated in the outskirts of a populous town; and, pending the delivery of the 3 aforesaid letters, I was very much interes- I ted in speculating on the habits and char- ' actors of the people I met with in my ' walks, and who 1 hoped would in lime be ' among those friends concerning whom I 3 had built so many castles in tne air. I ' in no gossip; indeed, I shrink from the whole system of busy-bodying and scandal mongering, and feel it to be a very just remark that (or every tale of scandal that is told, at leAt three persons are injured ?namely, the speaker, the listener, and the person s|n>ken of. Bui there is a difference be ti\ i en watching one's neighbors with a view to And out their private concerns for purposes of tattle, and that natural interest with which we observe those who are to form our future associates, snd with wluwu our home and social comforts are to dosdy interwovea. It was with ' this latter feeling, and with a cordial de ire to lika and approve, thai I was watchlug my future friends and associate, ; nd amusing my rather speculative mind by imagining a great deal about them, especially about some few individuals whose appearance was particularly attractive, when, to my surprise, and no small pleasure, I one morning encountered an old scliooluiate, Willi whom, in early days, 1 f had been closely intimate, el h ?ugh since that tiine we had seen little or nothing of " each other. Our pleasure in meeting was 1 mutual; each lady gave the other a most 1 affectionate greeting; and in the course of our walk?for we instantly joined compa- 8 ay, as in days of yore, and gave ourselves 8 up to ehat?each communicated to the r other the outline of ber history siuco we [ last met. My friend, Mrs. Fraxcr, had c married an officer in the army, and dur- r ing the time of ber married life bad lived 8 chiefly abroad. She -was now a widow, 8 and with a son and two grown up daugh- * ten, bad been for Ufflt years resident at Morton, and was, in fact, one of my nearest neighbors. A cordial invitation to join her and her girls at their tea table was given, and moat willingly accepted ; a dear young aieoe, who oa? just arrived oo a visit to me, and had shaved our ramble, being of ooune included in the invitation. '*> The lovely morning had turned off into a pouring wet afternoon, but Lixxie and I were not the lea*t daunted, and with c'oga, cloaks, and umbrellas, sallied forth just before dusk on our expedition. The * bright sea-coal fire, with a fine crackling log of wood on its summit, and the pleasant and cheerful aspect of everything about the abode of my friend, were most exhilarating after our dripping walk, and, coupled ??e warm ai<u affectionate welcome o f Mrs. Fraaer and her daugh- 1 tars, made me rejoice that I had not al lowed the rain to prevent our visit. The two girU?Agnes, who had been our companion in our morning's walk, a fine and nitelligebt girl of about twenty; Grace, whom I had net before eeen, a graceful and lovely girl, a . year or eo younger? were ao attractive in their appearance, and eo warm in their reception of my Lixsie, that I Ml quite in lore with them ; and when placed In a luxurious easy-chair by the fireside, and in dose proximity to a tea-table well spread with all those pleasant accompaniments which belong to that meal in bouses where the inmaten dine eertv, I speedily began to fool myself quite at home, and Ml into n state ot high enjoyment, no doubt greatly enhanced by the circumstances of my having for some previous weeks spent every eveelng in solitude. As usual, I took the first opportunity that was offered ma t?T a lively talk which was being carried on by thevouoa omm ?f aoticing thoae arooaj too. ' Mm. c Wooer woo, I U oneo u?, clever *o<l * hrewd woman, with strong nom of the t ladieroua, find oouaideraNo qmtkneet hi t detecdag ' absurdity or ineoMfteaioy ia ? odw, wkh Hulo dhpoaitMM to reserve hi i eipeeing them. Agfteo'e Cm high fore- 1 hand, and the thoughtfal wpraMioo other i e*?ar dark eyes. tad ented a rnhd of a high I hMelleotual ttamp; and hi eweet Grace, i yw T bo a ooanWnaikm of the I character* of the moiUr and siste^ har i IHraly biao eyee (sticking bad reAectiag I Jr mirtniul character; whilst at times, when other subjects arose, I could detect in her changeful countenance a ready appreciation ot the more weighty points in them. Agnes' mind seemed full of thought, Grace's full of feeling and sympathy ; Agnes was reflective, Grace was demonstrative?at least such were the tl| juries formed from the first hours of our anquaintnace. Our meal progressed, and the hot buttered cakes, and fresh cream, and bread, vanished with celerity, our appetites no doubt stimulated by the flavor of the fragrant tea, which the elder of the young ladies most gracefully dispensed. "Come," said I, acting under the inebriating influence of the lively society, and without the most refined discretion, "now as you are a resident here, do tell me a little about my neighbors, who they all are, and whom I shall beat like." I have since learned three excellent rules, which all who enter a new neighborhood would do well to learn and practice but w liich then, alas! I had not myself discovered :?1st, Remember that every character has its strong and its weak [X>ints, its gocd and its bad qualities, and that it is your wisdom to try and discover the former, and be as blind as you can to the latter. 2d, Never ask any one to tell you anything about your neighbors, as irou wilt bo sure to hear more of the bad than the good. 3d, If you wish to love *nd be loved, to live in peace and be use 'nl, never tell to one neighbor anything rou may have observed or been told that a objectionable in another. The least said s soonest mended. 1 would that I had teld by these rules, but, as I have said, mch was not the case. "Well," replied Mrs. Frazcr, "it is always a good thing to know a little of the xople one is with, and to be sure who >oe fnay trust; so I will give you a few lints that may come into use hereafer." "First then." said I, "tell a little about wo sweet-looking old ladies who called >n me yesterday. I think the add.ess on heir oard was 'The Grove.*" "O, yes; Mrs. Grey and Miss Park.? rhey are very nice people indeed?most ?enevoleot and amiable women," replied dr*. Friuter. " And agreeable also, I thought," aid I. "O, Mrs. Douglas, did you really P? Jli<l AiIIiia "U'u iliinir lliom - ?? v ?MIU? iiiviu OUVII mc* ome people, and so will you, when you cuow more of them ; they do no run on, ind tell you an many old sto>ie*." "Well, perhaps they were a little proy," I replied ; "but still, I must own I nought them very winning and sttracive, and such thorough gentlewomen." "Yea, and that they certainly are," anwered Mrs. Frazer. "How that caine ibout 1 can scarcely tell, tell, for thev are tot of verv exalted descent; their father nadu all Lis money by cabinet-making >r some such trade. 1 fancy you will not nuch like them ; for, as Agnes says, they ire sad twaddlers, and 1 have heard that vith all their large fortune, tbey are rnthir stitigv." "Weil," said I, "there k a nice looking Id man who walks about with a lame idy?-1 suppose bis wife. Who are tbey) have taken quite a fancy to litem; they ook so very cheerful and happy." A merry glance from Grace was followd by a general laugh, and Mrs. Frazer eplied: "Ob, they are General and Mrs. Tichr; we call her Mrs. Twitclier, not that U- - L -I- L-! ft ? q tnq ncip wing mme, poor tiling, bu? be look* as if her mouth and teg were ied together, for every time ehe takee a tep, ehe wriggles her lipe and twitches icr face in the funnieet way." "Oli, they are odd people, I assure you (rs. Douglas," said Agnes. "You may * sure there is plenty ot rosemary in their garden." "Hosemary" said T.itzie, "what has bat to do with their coldness!" "Why, did you never hear," replied tgnea, laughing, "that where the lady uTee, the rueetuany always flourishes!? fou mas beeure you have been Ave min Has jvitn then, that Mrs. Twitcber rules \t Tb* Elms.* as tbey call their cottage; le does pet and befool her, and gives up iverything to her in such an absurd raj. '"Tbsn there are the Mrs. and Misses lartlsnd, no doubt you have fallen in lore rith them too," said Mrs. Fraser. ' Yes, indeed,'* I answered; "I am sure shall like them. Those gentle, prettyroking girls, Lizaie, we spoke to oy the ;ate this morning.** *0, yes, aunt, seid Lisas,4'most at tracFre-looking girls.** "They seen so united and affectionate,** ! rejoined. 1 'Thav scam ia Mrl>inl? " uLI I Tr*Mmr *but H k not all gold that glitera. It all take hm true, they ara not noch mora taring than poor lira. Rueeoel ind bar eon, who, people Ibney because hay are ale aye together, and neither of ham aan erer go anywhere without the *ber, ara parfaat angak t bat thaaa who ire behind the aeaaaa tall a different lata, dot really, the Hartlanda ara excellent people on the whole, though one doe* tear a few thing* about thaw that ara alher oddi But It k a wonder to ma bow they bear with that invalid girl; IT the ware my daughter I would aoou nuke bar route heraelf a little. ML*** ih iXkvy--<A wm an excellent little minic. "There she lies on a couch in her bedroom: "Gertrude, love, will you be so kind as to give me that book ? Thank you, dearestand then,'Julia, darling, will you give me a little water V and so on, first to one and then to the other, instead of getting up and fetching what the wants for herself. 1 have no patience with her." 'But can she ?" I said. "I thought she was unable to walk." "She could walk well enough if she would but try, I have no doubt," replied Mrs. Frazer. "Indeed, I know her doctor wishes her to do so." "It is pretty and interesting to be an invalid," rejoined Grace, as she threw herself in a graceful attitude on the couch ; "it is an opportunity of showing s'ich a pretty foot and hand as Alice Ilartland's to great advantage. Now, do not think me ill-natured, dear Mrs. Douglas," added she ; " but really, I do not think she is a bit ill. There are half-a-dozen such young ladies here, all of whom fancy it interest ing to have weak bucks or t elicate chests ?it is quite a fashion." "Yes, indeed," said her mother, "what Grace says is perfectly true, and there is quite a host of such girls, and the doctors humor their fancies. 1 trust I shall never see either of my daughters give in to such whims." AsXI- .1 ? ?' ? * Lijr ur?r iricna, replied I, "I hope it may please God to spare you the grief of seeing one of your children prostrated as poor Al ce appears to be." I felt saddened. Where was I to hope to find any o! the valuable people of whom I had been told } "Hut surely. Doctor Loyd, who attends Alice liarlland, is a man of too high principle to encourage such deception as you describe?he is as wise as kind," said I "Oh, you quite mistake there," said Agnes ; "for it is he who upholds her in all her nonsense. Docto Loyd objects to such a thing, and Doctor Loyd strictly forbids the other," is forever on the lips of the whole party. You know it would not do for doctors to be too clear-sighted?what would become of iLsar ? I confess I was a littltd nettled as well as vexed at all this; 1 bad conceived a ve ry high opinion of the Ilartlands, to whom 1 had some special introductions; and I also meant that Dr Loyd should be my sheet-anchor, having heard as high a report of bis skill. 1 suppose my countenance showed that such was my feeling, l'or*Nrs. Fraxer, as if stimulated bv'tlie desire of establishing her statement, added : "Ob, it is well known that Loyd loves money ; he in all that is kind and attentive to those who can pay well, but his f atuitous patients are sadly neglected.? have a high respect for him, hut you will find that he is not all he appears." "And as to Mrs. Loyd," said Agnes, she is as pround and self-satisfied as she can live, and even more fond of money than he is." "They say so, my dear, certainly," said Mni J?rofoe aoaluinlu -?l>o ?w? ? mnvi | miu vciboimj oiio tino uoui any civility towards who do not pay well; hut, however, it may not he so. We are not intimate wtth her." I begau to see my error; I had thrown a spark into a bundle of combustible materials, and I was obliged to wait patiently till (he fuel was burnt out, till I could divert the flame into a more safe direction. But it was iu vain that I tried to turn the conversation into another channel, although my efforts were strongly seconded by my niece, to whom the subject under discussion was as displeasing as to myself. Strive aa we would, we could not succeed. My friend and her daughter produced this skirmishing warfare, slashing at and wound.ng every character with which they came in cont ct,and cutting down one by one all my hopes of finding any to love or respect amidst the large circle of bumad beinga with which I was surrounded. The evening was now far advanced,and I gave the signal of departure, which L?zai? was by no means sorry to hail. I felt much disposed to say on parting; "Be aa mtrciful to us when wo are gone aa you can," for I felt that we had nw more rea on to export immunity that any of those wboee frailties and foibles we had beard ao freely commented on. I was disappointed in my friends, for I saw that the precept: "Speak not evil, one of another," was not present to their minds; I was disappointed also in iny hop is for the future because, although I could not but believe that they had taken a on )-sided and uncharitable view of the conduct of those of whom they had spoken, yet the arrows they had shot stuck fast; and ray ideas of Mrn iiuliiiflutl whnM rh*nM*r kul luuiik discussed were lowered, end an element of distrust had been instilled into my mind. Time passed on, and the results of thie evil communication showed themselves.? The poison worked. I had promised, on my first visit at the Hsrtlsnd*, that I would 'occasionally go and sit with the sick girl, to whom a little society waa an enjoyment and they had kindly said that tbay wish* ed for my acquaintance. But I did not am. Dav nil ar dav passed, and I felt dis inclined to seek the aoeietj ot oneofwbora I bud received the im predion that the war bo lb deceitful and selfish-?and I fen red to encourage the IWW in which she wm aid to indulge herself. I returned Mr*. Grav's Thit; but when Mies Park began days, with which if 1 had been unprejudiced, I should have teen really much amused, I rather penmnely withheld my interest, instead of throwing my mind into the subjects which they brought forward, I chilled them hy ?ilence, made myself rather repulsive, and put otf for a time an . intimacy #bich 1 afterwards found was one well worthy of cultivation. It was much the saftio with all the rest of those who had bewi wounded by the arrows Mrs. Frazer an/1 her daughters had shot, and which I had crdled forth by asking for hints about niy neightiors. General and Mrs. Ticher paid me their first visit the day after I had received those hints,and when the poor lady twitched her mouth in addition with her foot, I could not help thinking of htr as Mrs. Twitcher, and as a few of the peculiarities, perhaps foibles, of this good couple peeped out, I am ashamed to say that the effect of the F razors' satirical remtrks were so strong ??n my mind that I allowed myself to bo amused with a sort of Quizzing feeling, instead of gently trying whether there might not lie some chord in the mind of one *.r the other of them which might respond to the touch of a kindly hand, and make sweet meLdy ; and I kept the conversation at low ebb. and suffered mv visitor* to depart without discovering that beneath a rather unattractive exterior there lay hidden hearts full of tender sympathies; that the gentleman was possessed of a fund of information which needed hut the touch of a congenial spirit to bring it into use, a spirit 1 had certainly not led him to expect that he would find in nic. Mrs. Tickler's lameness, I afterwards learned, originated in an accident she had encountered whilts following her husband through scenes of war and suffering, and the twitching was a spasmodic affection resulting from the injury. How oft n have I thought with shame on my tint interview^ with these good people ! It was long ere I called on Alice Hartland ; but when I did f soon found reason to suspect that the insinuations against her were wholly without foundation. The little f.dhles of manner which had been so severely condemned certainly existed.? There were too many "dearests" and "darlings," but the poor child appeared to be a genuine invalid, and most desirou* of becoming otherwise, using all means prescript for her recovery, and ready to own with thankfulness all progress towards that evidently desired end. She had becu for many years confined to her couch, but her complaints were neuraliric i and hence arose (he idea lhat she could shake ihetn oir if site would, but that she liked to be ill. Dr. Lnyd was named, ami the burst of affectionate gratitude which awaited the mention of him, was such as to show that I had not hern altogether mistaken in my 01 initial view of his character. But when I learned that this fee loving man had for seven long years watched over this would-be invalid, bestowing on her bis unvarying attention, coming, sometimes for weeks together and at Ilia busiest seasons, daily, or even twice a day, and his "all for love, and nothing for reward and that though pressed aud urged repeatedly to accept some remuneration, lie had never been prevailed 011 to take a single lee during the whole of bis attendance?I began, indeed, to feel how unwisely I had acted iu allowing a doubt of his worth to enter my mind. It was years before the wounds inflicted on that gosaipping evening were a 1 healed, years l>eforj I fully discovered, that though much of what was said was substantially true, yet from the mode in which all that was faulty or foolish in each character had been placer! in a prominent portion, every thing good and bright had t>een lost in obscurity, and aa totally false an impression had been left on my mind as if actual falsehoods had been stated. My readers, take warning by me?I have been stating facis, for iiiem ?nd similar hints we e given me und r the circumstances described. If you go into a new neighborhood never ask any one for such hint* ; and if any one should proffer the doub.ful kindness, reject it as you would a templing rruit mai you Knew was of a poisonous quality. It is more than probable that the information you would get would be sufficient to mar all your future intercourse with your neighbors; but it is highly improbable that it would help you to steer clear of nay one difficul* ty or inconvenience. Thk Eloqckkck or Morton.?Every one has read of action, action, action of Ltemaatheiies, and of what a variety of a! a u i J emotions ami passions ivommu* oouia espress by mere gestures, let it not be supposed, however, that such perfections of Art belong to the Ancients only. The Following anecdote if Win. C. Preston is illustrative of our remarks: Some years ago, among a thousand others, we were listening to one of his splendid harangues from the stump. Beside us was one as deaf as n poet, in breathless attention, catching apparently nearly every word that led from the ore tors lips. Now Wis tear* of Height would roll down bis cheeks, and sow, ia an ungovernable extacy, ha would about applause which might bawa beau mistaken for the noise of a small thunder storm. At length, Preston launched out due oi those pass gee of maaaJrh declamation . nui?u inusl- wuu uhvo neara nun Knew him to be so capable of uttering. In i magnificent aplemior it was what Byron has described the mountain storms of Jara. Its effect upon the multitude was like a whirlwind. Our deaf friend could contain himself no longer; but bawling i into our ear, as if he would blow it op< n i with a tempest, M Who's that speaking?1 cried he. M Wra.C. Preston," replied we, as loud as our lungs would let us. " Who? inquired he still louder than before. *Wm. C. Preston," Raid we, almost splitting our throat in the effort. " Well, well!" returned he, MI don't hear a darn word he or you are saying ; but, Great Jerusalem / don't fie do the motions splendidly." From the Portsmouth Vs., Globe. Thomas Ritchie. Thomas Ritchie, the long time Editor of the Enquirer, and lately of the Washington Union, was no ordina-ty man, and no ordinary praise will fit his epitaph, no commonplace eulogium come up to u just and deserved panegyric. 11 gh compliments have been paid to his memory, the warm, spontaneous meed of tboso who had in some way known him. And few in the American Kepublic in this first half of the 10th century, but had some how, through some channel or impression or other, known Thomas Ritchie.. To know him, was either to admire or love ; oftentimes both. Tho press, the pulpit, the literary stylus, have spoken or wrilteu at his funeral; all came to praise, where all could not come to bury him. No antecedent differences restrained or withheld l.? >i... :J 1- ?-? -- - - -> mio |?cu ?ii?i jwii u? rrmiy vriuuie io tlie worth of him to whoin so much whs due. No selfishness, jealousy nor envy cooled a tongue that pronounced a votive requiem to his fame. The very goneral and wide spread public notice and remark his death has elicited, speak how deep and favourable an impression his active aud distinguised life have made upon this generation. IIis almost | e-.r at the head of the city or metropolitan jourtiaTsT vast political or literary influences, and the humble and obscure editor of the distant village gazette, seem to have been equally familiar with his career and equally impressed with the high and brilliant character ot that career. How many high, ant I how many humble owe their political faith and convictions to his earnest teachings. When in 1804 he emerged from the privacy and obscurity of the Virginia cloister?a school room?and indited the first hurried but nervous editorials of the Enquirer, it was seen that a hand controlled the quill that would make a sensation in the editorial world if tho writer lived. It ii not too much to say, that that h md has left the broadest, deepest, and most brilliant mark upon the editorial pag s of this country's history that has evei yet been there transcril?ed. This is no fulsome eulogy ; for by those who have had the best claim to be considered rivals in his appropriate sphere, lie has been vari ously styled the 44 Ajax," tho 44 Achilles," the 44 Nee tor," the 44 Napoleon," of the Press: terms of encomium which have been freely, and never derisively no: ironically accorded. All through the columns of the Enquirer and the Union, while he was with them, there sparkle tin gems of his genius and the graces of his rhetoric, showing ' the more brightly, because set iu a ground work of political and philosophical wis doni and practical sagacity. lie was no " Tissue weh of fancy, Adorned by artful wit," but the granite sentence with the vein of gold. And if in the elegant polish of a paragraph, the sword seemed diamond liiltvd, the blade was the true steel and did it* intended ex went ion with signal success and dispatch If we inav be permitted to class the style of his writing according to our own appreciation of it, we shoald call it?Anglo Saxon romanesque, or the solidity ami severe purity of the Anglo Saxon, or nainented often with the gracea and metaphor allowable and practised by the An gunmu ?ik-ib. up. iiiiinLrMiioiiBirorii nonun and Greek history weref equent and hlway* apt and imposing. lit) was often very sententious, pointed, laconic. Hut when writing something for the smaller but more intelligent class of his readers, who he felt would read and ponder every line he wrote, he would indulge in more latitude, in style, in argument, in illustration : but without any departure from clearness, perspicuity or logical sequence and force. We have often heard it said by persons every * ay competent and capable of giving a ' critical fafsw ' that they derived more delight fro ? reeding Mr. Ritchie's extended leaders, than from any political essays written on the continent. These leaders, besides the qualities we have referred to, always possessed a fresh raciness, a spirit, a vigour, pa orig inaKty, an individuality of thought and UNsiiiis about them, that eats ?< ? In be found altogether elsewhere in the iour DkU of the day ; end itore young editor* have tried to form their style after hw than after that of any editor America has pror duced. Mr. Ritchie's polities were rigidly A marV' \ lean. L?ut us be understood. Ilis acquaititame with English history was intimate and precise, especially in the workings of her political machinery. The distinguishing tenet of his political creed, the interi- l sest feeling of his political ardour was, to i avoid British political errors. Hence his determined and fierce opposition to a high protective tariff, which, misnamed the American doctrine of Henry Clay, was a sickly exotic, transplanted front England, where the parent Stem had already commenced to lose leaf, bark and healthy root. Hence his objection to a monster United States Bank, since, in addition to its unsuitablcness to the condition of things in this country, he had seen that a similar institution in England had frequently proved a sore disaster to the people and a serious burthen to the Crown. lie never sought official eminence, but has more than once refused to accept the robes ami dignities of office. lie has con seqtienuv never l>een a l'resiUent nor a ' Cabinet Minister ; but lie has often con- 8 trolied the elements which have made ? Presidents and Cabinets : and it might not be inaptly nor untruly said of him, 1 that he was the American Warwick or 8 President maker. In social life he has been called the Chesterfield of the convi- > vial circle ; but the compliment, though 1 well meant, was incomplete. He possess- ' ed all the urbanity and affability of dies- c terfield, without the fastidiousness ; all * the dignity and ease of address, without 1 the vanity. Other States as they admired him, now 1 lament him. Virginia as she loved him, * mourns her irreparable loss. AGRICULTURAL" I ii Practical Hints about keeping Milk [ trom Souring. ^ Milk is a compound substance, made a up of a mixture of oil, (butter,) sugar, ca- f seiue (curd) and water. If allowed to t stand still, tlie oily matter will rise to the | top in the form of cream. There is a , lilt e free alkali (soda) in the water of , all sweet milk, and without this soda the ; water will not have the powei to keep the f caseine or curd dissolved. The sugar of j milk is also dissolved in the water. If the '] sugar can get access to air, it is constantly j inclined to change to an acid, (lactic acid^) j ju?t as sweetened water change* to vine- (] gar when exposed to air, and we can v see just w hy milk curdles,and how it may tj be kept sweet. 0 We all know that acids destroy or neu- j, tralizc the effects of alkalies, (such as so- q da, potash, liine, &c.) As before stated. a when tlie milk is new, there is some tree ? soda in it, but when some acid is formed 0 f ont the milk sU 'ar, this acid neutralizes the soda, and the water without the so-1 Rl d? cannot dissolve the cascine, l?ut it sep- , ^ arates into a mass of curd. More sugar 1 c (urns to more acid, and in time die whole t becomes quite sour. Now there are two 8 ways of preventing this souring. The ? first is: c Keep the air away from the milk as c much az^possible. YVo cannot very well g keep the milk covered air-tight, hut the j, oil or creain which rises to the top forms ' f a very good cover if it is kept unbroken. I If, then, it is desired to keep the milk 1 j some length of time, great care should be ^ taken to keep it still, and preserve the ( creain undisturlied. Those who get inilk ?] but once a day, should divide it into sev- f oral portions, each portion to be kept un- j jj disturbed till it is wanlod for use. The j c se.-ond method is: Put into new milk a little extra, soda to ' ^ neutralize the acid asfu?t as it informed. A bit of soda, say the bulk of a marrowfat pea, to a quart of milk, will not injure ' its taste or <|iialitv. while it will often keen I it sweet for a day or more longer tlian ! s without it. We have often taken milk t already ?>eginning to sour and curdle, and , I by stirring in well a little aoda and boil- a ing it, have re dissolve i the curd, and 'I rendered the milk as sweet and good as )i when first drawn from the cow. We ii know that sweetened water will turn more c rapidly to vinegar (acetic acid.) if it is c kept warm. Just so the sugHr of milk c turns to acid (lactic) sooner if ket warm ; n and on this account the cooler milk is g kept, the longer it will remain sweet. b It is well known that a heavy thunder- g storm will often rei der milk speedily sour, n This may be effected in two ways: the n agitation of a thunder clap may introduce I more air into the milk, end the great n amount of electricity passing through the v milk inay hasten the change of the sugar t to acid. We have heard it suggested? a with how much truth we cannot say, * though there is some |>laiiftibility in the t statement?that inilk is less likely to be 1 affected by thunder if it is kept in glaaed I .1 :... i _/ . _ i r i't miiiiqiinnir imicmi \n iiiouii i1ko | tin pan*; and also that it will, at Mich i | tnnu, ke?p better if the veMeh are placet I i i upon dry wooden benches or ahelvee, i away from the walla, than if eel upon the i bottom ot the cellar or milk-room. The j reason assigned is, that the dry benches ( or alielvea act as non-conductors, and pre- 1 vent electricity from going through the 1 milk in ita passage from the cloada to tlio I earth. I The moat important thing in the care i of milk, however, it to leate it andiaturb* 1 e 1?not even moving the vessel or agitating the surf ice front the lime the milk is strained till it is all required for use. The shallower milk vessels are made, the greater will be the yield of cream, as it will the inore readily rise to the top.? American Agriculturist Hints about Poultry. Whether the larire-size*! variation o ? owls, which are "all the rage "now unongsl fancy breeders and dealers, are really preferable to the old-fashioned barnyard fowls, is a subject on which there are wo opinious among those who have tried >oth. To say nothing of the enormous Jiices which they occasionally command ,!i?y weigh heavily in the market scales, >r till a large platter on the dinner table. Unt, on the other hand, they are great gormandizers themselves, and are generilly consideied difficult to raise. Iloosers should be changed as often as once n two years, if not annually ; and pains h>uld be taken, in replacing them, to iroeuio strong, healthy; and perfect birds; lie hen will lay better, and batch more hickcns. Only a small number of hens .houhl be kept in one house, or together. A'e have known repeated instances in vhich keepers of poultry have become IWgusted at their failure to lay, ?nd have ietermined to kill them off. They have onimenced reducing the number, which, vas perhaps forty or fifty, and when hey got down to half a dozen, wore suririscd to fi..d every one of the hens layng, and the supply of eggs for the vhole family better than the whole nua?er furnished. As to profit, we doubt vhether, ifall their food be bought, the ggs and chickens produced by any breed, md sold at the regular market prices, for he table, will pay the expense of keepug ; but it by no means follolrs from this, hat hens are not a source of profit on a arm. They eat much which would othirwise be entirely lost and wasted ; and a nail patch of buckwheat, sown at a triling cost, and left on the ground where .hey can stroll over it and feed, at their ,.i? _.:n l -t- ? -- ' ? * - m-iwuir, nm tvi-ep iu'-iu as iai as uut<-r. Tne nftiti point is, the great value >f the manure of poultry. The hen-roost s the place where most farmers should jo for their guano, if obtained there t will invariably prove of good quality. I'here need be no fear for those who get heir guano from this source, that it will urn out to be spurious or inferior. We loubt whether even intelligent farmers vould estimate at more than one-hunIrcdth part of its amount the quantity f excellent manure which can be made 1 tli s way in the course of the year, 'lie hen-roost, duck-roost, goose-roost nd tnrkey-roost should be supplied . itli several loads of peat, swamp muck r loam, spread evenly over the surface f the floor, and on this there should be cntterred a thin layer of sand and ;ravel. On rainy days, when the work an be done as well as not?and as ofen as practicable?this should bA all hovelled over, and the manure thus nixed with the other ingredients. The ompost soon becomes strong, when it an l>e removed, and a fresh supply of uitahle material be thrown in. The ouse is kept sweet, clean and healthy oj the fowls; and if any farmer will dopt this plan, and practice it faithfuly for five years, and keep an accurate ccount of the crops raised directly from ne compost made with the poultry mature, and from the manure made by ceding those crops out in their turn, ie will be amazed at the amount of ash which ho will have realized, and t the permanent improvement of bis una.?Londonberry Standard, What the Farmers Most Needs.? t is not a collgw endowed by tbe State, ays u contemporary ; it is a primary school o prepare farmer's sons and daughters for he higher walk* in science as applied to agriculture. They need organization.? I'hey want farmer's clubs and ueighbof' lood libraries of agricultural books. They it-ed discussion. They need more interour.se, not ouly in their own town and ounty, but throughout tbe State and ountry, to see and learn what other farmers are doing, and adopt. This ig the Teatest need of farmers. They need to ?ome satisfied with their avocation to ;et rid of the prevailing notion that (Writing it? nece-sarily an u omental cm ploy tout. ' Tho farmer is accustomed to think hat he has no occasion for education, and ever can become wealthy, or what tho rorld calls respectable, while engaged in lie cnlture of the earth, and therefore he ecks the first opportunity to eaoape from in avocation placed under ban, not only >y all others, but by hie own class also. I'he great need of the firmer is that le shall declare hiiuself independent of ill classes; at least more no than they ire of him, and U entitled to engage in my ot-ier calling whatever, and if he ia a man of toil, that ia no reason why he ibould not be a man of intellect The great need of a farmer ia organisation, and ihis must be accomplished by * few aslfperifiring men, who will unfalaks the la >nr or ?*iat?lt*Uiug *o?l mninfiwiiig fornneiV club* in ?ttry neighborhood. Ferrer* neoil not drop politiwi to Uk? np igricultar*. 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