The Lancaster ledger. (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, November 23, 1859, Image 1
~" tlic Canraster CcDacr.
iO 1^1^* I? A IV NT F T \f Turn to the Pr?w?ilk teeming Miccls Mirvey, ? XT A i\*r i
. m 1. Citi it \J J.T4. Big with ilie wonden of eiteli |iaw*ins <tii). A^l Jl)^ANCyl^
5 /amilji ana jtaliiicnl j8tuis|ia|itt?Slraotrii la ll)t Arts, ititntts, tittrntart, fiintatian, Ajritallart, Salttual 3mptuufuitiils, /amp aua j'oturair >itius, nuii ii|t jtiuiktis.
VOLUME V 1 I I . LANCASTER C. H, SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, NOV, 23,.1859. * MI M rrr a7
irtnl ^optrq.
A Farmer's Son^Wu
envy uot the princely man,
In city or in town,
Who wonders whether pumpkin vino*
linn up the hill or down ; .
Wc care not for his marble halls,
...< LI- I l> ? -1 J
i nn JICI ma NCIips I'l g<HU,
We would not own his sordid henrt
For all his wenlth thrice told.
We art the favored ones of earth,
We breathe pure air each morn,
We sow?we reap ttiu golden grain?
We gather in the corn ;
We toil, we live on that we earn,
And more than this we do.
We hear of starving millions round,
And gludiy feed them, too.
M ho lawyer lives on princely fees,
Yet drugs n weary life,
He never knows a peaceful hour?
His atmosphere is strife,
The merchant thumbs bis yard stick o'er,
Grows haggard at his toil;
He's not the man God meant him for? |
Why don't lie till the soil ?
The doctor plods through storm and cold, i
Plods nt his patient's will;
When dead and gone he plods again
To get his lengthy bill.
The printer (bless his noble soul,)
He grasps the mighty earth,
And stamps it on our welcome sheet, j
To cheer the farmer's hearth.
We sing the honor of the plow,
And honor of the press?
Two noble instruments of toll.
Willi each a power to bless,
The bone and nerve of this fust age.
True wealth of human kind?
One til! the ever generous earth.
The other tills the mind.
i>flerteii jHunj.
From Arthur's Home Magazine,
FORGOTTEN DliTV.
HV T. 8. ARTHUR.
'Mother !'
No answer.
'Mother! Mother, I say !'
Tl?o lady who was sewing upon a child*
garment, <li<l not seem to hear the roice. |
*M >ther !* .'I'llh tone had grown impa i
tient. 'Mother! Mother! Mother !'
And now added to an imperative voice
were a pair of small Iimik!?jerking at the
lady's arm. And so attention was con
attained.
'What do you want I' now exclaimed
the mother, half angrily, an ?l>e let her ]
hands fall upon her lap, and looked with
knit brows upon her Intlo annoyer.
'Can't I go to Aunt Jane's to-morrow.'
'No, you cannot. There, now. move ;
away, and don't trouble tne any more.'
'Say, Mother! Can't I go to Aun't
Jane's to-til Of-row ? I haven't been there
for ever so long a time, and I want to go
so badly."
Didn't I say no!' The lady frowned
severely.
Hut the child still lingered by her mo
ther, who, being loo busy to attend to L
Jier any further, pushed her firmly aside. '
.and bent down again over her work.? I
Not three unnutes passed before the cry, !
'Mother!' wt. rioging through the
apartment again. As before, there was
??o response.
Mother ! Mother !' j
Still no answer.
'I say, Mother, why don't you auswer
when I speak !
An angry spot was burning upon the
child's fsce, aud her tones were anything
but filial.
'Anns,' said the lady, looking up from |
her work, and addressing her child in an
offended voice. 'Do you know (o whom
you are speaking f
'Why don't you answer me then !'
'Hud. this instant ! You impudent
Uittle girl; how dare you V
And there was an upward movement
of the lady's Land, as if she were tempted
lo inflict a blow. Somewhat frightened
at the tbrealed consequence, Anna re
treated from her mother, who again bent
over the sewing in her hands. And what
was the work which so absorbed her at- j
lention that she had no ears for her child
?that the word "mother," found no quick
echo in her heart f We answer, a piece
of elaborate embroidery, designed for a
garment to adorn lite body of this very
child. There was to be a little one's par- !
ly at a neighbors, and Anna having received
an invitation, her mother, inure in
pride than true affection, had undertaken
to embroider for her a skirl and body to
be worn on the occasion. The pattern
was very rich, snd took more time for its
eiecution than she had at firnt thnuulit
would b? required.
Many home dutiea were neglected for
he aabe of tliia piece of ceedle work ; aacred
borne duties, that can never lie omitted
without wrong. The baby, not eo
well an usual, had been permitted to lie
for hour* fretting in its cradle, when it
should have been nestling upon ita iivothera
bovom; and worse than that, the
mind of the cnild, for the adornment of
whoae body the elegantly wrought gar-'
, ,n^ - -- -j .fc rfc
ment was intended, had received many
disfiguring mark*. There had been inat
tention to lier requests, neglect of her
wants, and angry repulsion when she
had intruded those wants too impatiently.
As the garment grew in beauty under |
the mother's skillful hauls, fretfuloess,
impatience, anger, and disobedience were
doing their evil work upon her soul.
For nearly two whole days, every thing
had been neglected for this bit of vanity;
and the greatest sufferers were the cliil i
dren?baby and Anna. Yet, so absorb
ed was the mother in her work, lliat she
had only a dim perception of her error.
She did not, of course, escape the jar of j
discord that ran in disturbing pulsations I
through her household, and so her own J
o..t i - ? - - * "
j,.... ?jn\ lO'UIIJ 1% lllumillU Of Kelt |10H
session. Lijlit chuw'r disturbed her ; lit
tb> annoyances fretted her beyond control; i
even lliu smallest obstruction in the cur '
rent of her thought Rent the hot blood to '
her cheek* and temple*. Her husband
felt, and was made unhappy by the
change in Iter temper. Her domestics
were chafed by her impatient way of i
speaking to them ; and we have already
seen something of the effects produced
on one of her children.
Little Anna, after being repulsed and \
threatened, retired to a distant part of 1
the room, and. crouching down in the cor
ner remained silent during a long time. !
The baby, after having fretted in the era'
die for half an hour, lost itself in sleep. '
And so the mother worked on in peace, I
greatly to her satisfaction, the rich flowers
growing into form ami beauty under
her skillfull fingers, and spreading them
M'lvAH Otbr flu* rfurmanl
ting for her child. Ami what of the child
now f She had driven her ?wav angrily, '
ix little while before ; end since that time
she had neither heard her voice, nor tlie '
sound of her footstep. All at once a
thought of Anna came ho distinctly into
her consciousness, tharshe looked around
quickly to see if she were in the room.
'Anna!' she called. Hut there was no .
reH>'
'Anna!' I he si.etice of the apartment ;
gave her heart a strange feeling, and lay 1
ing down the garment upon which she
was at work, she aros".
'Anna !' site called again, as her eyes
rested up n the form of her little one ly- |
ing upon the llov>r. Passing over quiek'y
she slopped ami caught the child in her
arms, repealing her name over and over
as she did so. Hut Anna was fast asleep,
and did not answer So she laid Iter up {
on the sofa, and hent over her with a ten
der, \ earning emotion at Iter hear1. And
now the unusual redness of Anna's
checks attracted her attention, ard she
p aced her hand upon the soft flesh, nervously.
It was above the natural heat.
Sin-caught up one of the little hands ea
gerly. Its burning touch sent a shudder
of fear through her bosom.
.viniH, near i aiimh . r>ne lanl tier j
lips close to the child's enr, and called
her n one tenderly ; but tins door of hearing
sleep bad barred against the entrance
of even a mother's voice. And now she j
renieinberred with painful distinctness,
how she bad repulsed and spoken atigri
lv to the little one, and she saw again the <
look of fear that shadowed her face, as
she raised her band threateningly, bears |
came into ber eves, filled them, and rail
down over ber cheeks. Through this
blinding rain, she sought to read the signs
on Anna's countenance ; but all she could
see there tended only to augment her
fears. The liillo brow seemed contracted
ilieie was a nervous ut.sle olmess about
the lips and eye-lashes; the breathing
was lieavv. and the chest labored.
'Anna, dear, apeak to mother! Speak
mother, darling !'
Hut Anna only mourned and worked !
her mouth in a strange, unusual way.
H Mi, I wish Henry would come home !'
sobbed the mother to herself, giving way
lili further to the excitement of alarm.
'This chdd is v. ry ill, I am sure. Oh,
what can ad tier !'
There came now tlie sound of a closing
door. Then a manly tread wns lieaid in
(lie passage below.
'Father! Henry ! I* that you F The
mother called, breathlessly.
'Yes, Kdiih. Hut what is the matter f'
And tliV husband and father, startled by
her tones, came hurriedly up the stairs.
'Oh, Henry, I'm so glad you've come
home,' said his wife, as she grasped his
arm,
'What has happened !' His voice was
iikXh.Iv srwl I... f...~ ? - .lio.l..l- ?i
J, .... ."vo I
'I'm no frightened about Anna.'
'About Anna !'
'Yea; she's lying in a heavy stupor,
and her rkin is like fire ; see !' and she
drew him to the tufa upon which the little|girl
was lying.
Mr. Lewis stooped over his child and
laid bis baud against her cheek.
'She has a burning fever,' said his wife,
anxiously.
Mr. Iv*wis did not reply, but took one
little wrist between his Angora, and searched
for the pulse. He was sliil and silent
for nearly a minute.
'How long has she been in this way ('
he inquired. with a betraval of alarm in
his voice.
'I found her a?leep on I lie floor, junl
now, and tried to waken her. Oh dear,
Henry, what can it l?e f'
The word* scarlet fever were in tier
thought, hut she dared not give them ut '
lemnce.
'It may be nothing serious,' replied her
husband, 'but it wilt be safest to cull in ,
the doctor immediately. I will carry her
over to our room. You bed better un-.
dree* and place her in bed while I go for
our physician.'
Aa Mr. Lewis lifted the child in his j
ertns, she moftped end fumbled be;
lunula about bur throat, as if there were
a sense of pain or constriction there.
'Oli, Ilenry ! go quickly! I'm so <iis- j
tressed !' urged the mother, as soon as (
Anna was laid upon the bed. 'Tell the
doctor, if you find him in, that he must i
come immediately. Don't let hiin put i
you oil' with a promise to come soon.? !
Bring him back with you.'
Mr. Lewis hurried away, and Mrs. Lew j
is, after undressing Anna and laying her
in bed, went over to the sitting-room, from ! i
whence there now came the fretting cry i
of baby, who had awakened from a brief j I
slumber.
'My proc'ous one!' exclaimed the mo- i
llier, as she hugged her child, almost wildly,
to her heart. 'Mv orecious one V
Then she fell of her baby's baud, and 1
touched ils soft cheek, fur signs of fever, i
but they were cool and moist An eino ! !
lion of thankfulness throbbed in her heart, i 1
And now her eyes rested on the garment j 1
upon which she had been at work for ; 1
more than two days. An accusing spirit 1
was at her ear hinting of neglect. The | 1
suggestion disturbed her profoundly.? ;
Gradually the truth dawned upon her
mind, growing more ami more distinct
every moment. For the sake or gratify- |
ing her motherly pride in the adornment I
of her child's body, she had not only j
turned away from that child, and hurt j
her gentle spirit by unkindness, but she i
bail so neglected Iter as not to mark the !
signs of approaching disease until the j
hand of fever was upon her.
'God forgive ine!' she said, solemnly,
while a shudder passed along her nerves. !
'My weak heart was overtaken by folly, I
but v isit me not so feat fully. Ob, spare, j
spare my child !'
The physician came, and Mrs. L.3wis ;
watched every changing expression of his
n?.iimi nuiiji anxiously on iii? words.?
His ieplie? to the mothers question* were
brief, ;iiid evidently guarded, while in her
ex es his countenance wore an unusually j
serious aspect.
*1 xxill call agaiu to.night,' said he, on I
going a xx ay.
How the words smote upon her heart.
'Again to-night!' Then there was indeed
danger !'
Ily this time Anna's fever had greatly
increased in violence, and she moaned
and tossed about restlessly. The medicine
left by the doctor did not seem to j
make any impression. There whs rather J
an exacerbation than an abatement of j
the worst symptoms.
Towards ten o'clock the doctor called !
again, lie came in with a serious, pro- I
fessional air, and sat by the bedside without
speaking. After feeling the child's
pulse, he bent over and examined Iter
skit:.
I - it scarlet fever. 1 >octor V
The voice of Mrs. Lewis was husky !
and tremulous. She held her breath, I
waiting for an answer to her question.
'It may lax only a mild case of scarlet i
rash,' replied the doctor. Hut there was j
evasion in me tones <>l his voice, hikI the
Hiixious mother was not deceived.
'Continue the medicine as before. I
will see her eaily in the morning.'
And with nothing inore to encourage ;
tlieir fearslricken liearts, the father and
motlier were left for the night with their
sick child. Neither slept lor there was
no abatement of fever, and the little suf
ferer cried or moaned, or threw herself
restlessly about through all the weary
hours, until day dawn. When the doc
tor next came, he made no Attempt at
concealment. A1! the signs were clear. It
was a case ofscarlet'ua, ami bv no means
a light one.
Unhappy mother! Ail her soul was!
filled with terror. Naturally of a tender
and loving nature, her heart had becoin6
bound up in her children, and the thought
of losing this one, her first-born, pierced
her with sharpest anguish.
Alas! if this had been all. Hut never
fi ?r u I I -I - .1 -
- ..Mucin, nniin nuo Liiru^v HSIM8 U10
memory of her unkindnes* and neglect? !
of the sharp, angry repulsion with which
she had driven her child away, when,suf* !
fering from the encroachments of disease,
ami in a state of consequent irritation of
mind and body, she had sought her care
and attention. How many times, during
the next five or six days of anguish and
suspense, did she steal away to some se !
eluded place, and, bending tearfully in j
prayer, ask that her child might not be I
taken from her.
'Oh! spare her, Heavenly Father? I
spare her this time! l>o not take my
child and leave my heart borne down with t
a double weight of sorrow and self repro
vat." J 1
l lii# was the burden of her oft repeated .
prayer. The richly embroidered garment
in which h?r mind had become so much
interested as to cause her to forget, for I ]
the time, the real wants of her children, t 1
was hidden away The sight of it rebu 1
ked her as with stern words.
Rapidly the disease ran its course, and j 1
little Anna was hroinrht. to th? brink nf
the river of death, her while feel bared <
to go down into the darkly flowing wa
'.era. Art! still, from the mother's heart, 1
went up the almost wildly uttered prayer, i
Oh, spare me my child ! Spare me I
ray child !'
At last the long suapense was over, the I
struggle with disetut* ended, and the utt <
conscious one lay whita and still befuro
the hushed weepers; not still in death, |
hut in the calm of exhausted nature, for I
life yet lingered about the heart, and
crept along the veins in feeble currents. 1
'The crisis is past ; there is hope.'
It was the physician who spoke, bend
ing, as be did to. to the mothers ear.? I
She <1 id not start, nor answer, but stood I
motionless for an instant, and then fell >
forward upon the bed, lost for a time to I
all tbat was passing around her. I *
Hack from the liver of death, down
into the waters of which iill'ie Anna's
feet were about passing, came the belov- j
ed child to her mother's eager arms ; and I =
as she lay, in slow convalesence, day af
terday, upon her bosom, the promises ol j
wiser consideration of her in the future j
were over and over again renewed. An 1 I '
these piomises were kept. If, at any j
lime, she was tempted to fyrget them, '
memory Iih<1 only to take Ficr hack to I j
those dnvs ami niahls of furnt.lu U, -...i 1
suspense to give them all the power of a j *
fresh resolution. !
More about Brown- i 1
The New York Tribune lis* a long let j ^
ler from a Charlestowu correspondent, ' f
some paragraphs of which we extract:
About Brown.?Certain Northern pa- j '
pers convey the impression of a very general
belief in John Brown's safety from I
execution. Brown's own ideas on the | '
subject are characteristic, lie tranquilly j f
says : "I do not know tha; I ought to encourage
any attempt to rave mv life. ' ^
1 hui not sure thai it would not be better j 1
for me to die at this time. 1 am not in. I '
capable of error, and I may be wrong ; 1 1
but I think that perhaps my objects j 1
would be nearer fultilmenl if I should die.
I must give it some thought." There is I .
no ineincerity about this.you nay be sure. 1
Brown does not value his life; or, at least,
is wholly unmoved at the prospect of losing
it. He was never more firm than at
this moment. The only compunctions he !
expresses are in relation to his manage
inent at Harper's Ferry, by vliich he lost
not only himself, but sacriti.'d bis assocn 1
ates. He sometimes says that if be had t '
pursued his original plan j| immediate | '
escape 10 the mountains, h? could never j
have been taken, for he and his men had I
studied the vicinity thoroughly, and knew I
it a hundred times better than any of the '
inhabitants, it was, he aay?, his weak- i
ness in yielding to the eutr?atics of the !
prisoners, and delaying his departure, that i
ruined him. "It was the first time," are j
his words, "that 1 ever lost command of, j
myself, and now I am puni-lied for it." j
'lite reason lirovui has given for asking j
his wife to remain away is also character- i
islic. lie knows it will cause great snf j
fering, and will, possibly, shatter his composure
in a manner which he is resolved
against, le>t his captors should esteem it
an evidence of regret for what he has
done.
What Hkowk's Plan Kkai.i.v Was.
? I have not heard of anybody who,
whatever crimes he may have attributed
to Hrown, lias doubted hifc word, llere
is his own account of his purpose at iiar- I
per's Kerry :
lie had calculated upon, and fully ex- I
peeled to accomplish, a rescue of a great ,
number of slaves. To maintain a warlike
position in Virginia, for any definite period,
was not his obj- ct. The idea of his i
seeing the Armony for the sake of the j
weapons it contained, he will not admit. I
He says he had far better weapens of bis !
own. Ilis occupying it at all was a vai J
riation from his original determination.? I
He liml decided to take Colonel Wash
ington and tlie oilier prisoners to Harper's 1
Kerry bridge, and there to establish a j
commanding position, from which he !
would insist upon ^exchanges of slaves for I
his prisoners. In case he should have '
t?een dislodged, lie would have reslreated j
in haste to the mountains, with the intri- 1
cacies of which he had made himself so
much more familiar than the inhabitants I
themselves, that he believed he could defy j
all attempts to apprehend him. He had \
supposed that, after a few days of successful
evasion, he would bo joined by bun (
dreds of slaves anxious to oscape, by j
whose aid be could have perfected arrangi 1
ments for an enormous rescue. This, as '
I understand, was bis real plan.
The reason of the chamm l.a
ft- t > ,,v ,,,v,n
that as the night of the rising was vary l
severely cold, lie suddenly concluded to
have the prisoners taken to the Armory, )
where they would not he exposed to the >
weather, anticipating no trouble in mov- i
ing off with them, in case he should not !
he able to art'ect the exchanges with ne '
groes before the general alarm should '
spread. Disappointed in this hope, lie '
had only to tight to the end.
A Nkw Prisoner.?llazlelt, of Penn ;
sylvania, was yesterday captured in Carlisle,
Pennsylvania, and was at midnight
brought into Charlestown. You would !
have thought by the uproar, that a new
invasion was at hand?guards running
hither and thither, hotels nsaailed with
merciless batterings, and altogether a hid- '
eons state of things. Haziett has nothing
to say, having been instructed bv counsel
to answer no questions, and give no intimation
of his antecedents; and the other
prisoners seem oppressed by an absolute
incapability to recognize him, although
called upon to identify. This prisoner is,
in annearane^ tli? tnnm
termined of nil thai have been brought
here. Ah matters stand, bis changes to
escape are not inconsiderahle.
Hkows'sI'ropkrtv.? Mr Sennott, who
has been formerly intrusted with Brown's
interest*, intends to look up all his proper,
ty that can be collected together, for the
benefit of his family. Of the Sharp's ri.
lies, twenty only are certain to be recov
?red, the rest having been carried off by
various persons. These twenty are in the
possessions of the jailor, who is anxious
to hare their value made good to Brown.
The tents, axes, pikes. A**., will probably
be sold as soon as possible. 1 am sorry
to say that Mr. Brown's little properly
was seriously diminished by Mr. (rriswohl
the lawyer from Ohio, who received $'i60
From his client for defending him Under
the circumstances, it would be pleaaanter
to know that Mr. Griswold had looked to i
>ther sources for hit reward.
? #
ihp'iiltural. i
A Few Facts about Cotton.
We hear from several parts of Africa,
hat tlio growth uf cotton is proceeding
vitli rapidity and measurable success, es 1
leciallv in the English colonies and their
icinity. At one little town four tons I
iH<1 been furnished for export, and more
vhb expected from the interior. Large
quantities arc to he sent to England. At
he last National Fair in Liberia, it was
nanifest that cotton, sugar and cotiee
vould soon become staple articles of ox>ort.
More than a dozen samples of cotcm
wore exhibited in competition for the
ireniiums ottered. Some of these were
veil ginned and cleaned, and some were i
>f tine texture and long and silky staple. '
specimens were gathered from trees
jrown from American seed planted eight
ears ago, tho same trees continuing to '
rroduce an annual crop. In ttiis partic
liar, tho Africans possess an immense :
idvantage over cotton growers of tliis
:ountry. Other specimens were exliihi j
ed produced from Amcricau see l plan- i
ed last year. But tho principal lots I
sere of native African cotton, accompan.
ed with many pieces of native cloth, j
locks and stockings. Beautiful specimens
>( the latter were shown, made from the I
staple of the native cotton tree, which
jrows w ild in the forest, and reaches a
height of eighty to one hundred feet.
Suc h facts as these are well worthy the
attetrion of our southern planters. It
appears, also, that there is likely to he a
lomesltc consumption in Africa. The
Liberians are, an we have stated, making
hosiery ami cloths out of the native cotton,
and it was thought at tlio latest
dates, that Mancestor machinery?on a
small scale, probably, at first?- but still
sutlicient to stimulate tlic cultivation of
the staple, was about to be introduced.?
Meanwhile the production of cotton in
India is increasing largely, notwithstan
ding the recent terrible revolt ; and the
elastic capacity of Hindustan and her
people, will now be more and more tried
and tested annually. Steamboats are
being placed on Indian rivers, and railroad
building, to facilitate the Cotton
transit, is being vigorously prosecuted ;
and, as this system in our southern States
gave astonishing impulse to its culliva
lion, it must operate as potentially in se1
curing lire same result in India. In the
period of fourteen years, Brazil sent an
increase of fourteen million ponds to Kng
land, Egypt of thirteen millions, and the
import of 'other countries' rose from three
millions one hundred ami thirty live
thousand pounds is 1643, to eight millions
in 18o7. This comparatively small
item from 'other countries' was principal
ly from Africa. One great cause of the
impulse imparted to the cotton culture in
Asia and Africa?and it is an element
upon which the hopes of success in those
regions are founded?is the low pric,e of
labor, as compared with the co.-t ol toil
in the United States. At present several
of the kinds used, even in India, are of
qualities 'inferior to middling1 otilv ; but
progress, invention, and improvement,
are ever on the alert, find a few years
hence might witness a very different condition
of things. Even now the lower
sorts of African and India cottons are
woven with due proportions of the better
articles raised in the United States.?
Penn&ylvunia Kiojuircr.
Agriculture.
Of all the sciences known to man that
of agriculture is the most important, as
furnishing the aliment absolutely uncus.
sary for human sustenance. Its pursuit
has been considered an honorable one
from the remotest antiquity ; then, and
utitil the last quarter of a century, it was
simply an art practiced with greater success
by others. The scene is now, how
ever, wonderfully changed. Soils and
crops are reduced to their primitive elc
inents in the laboratory of the chemist,
atmospheric influences are thoroughly investigated,
and the farmer may know at
a trifling cost how to obtain the fullest
advantage from the broad acres which
lie tills. This is the age of high farming;
the man who works as his grandfather
did is a laggard in the race. Success in
agriculture can only now Lj attained by
a skillful adaptation of means to ends.?
Land must be dressed by the most efficient
implements, and the produce of the
soil skillfully garnered. Labor, both
horse and manual, must he economised
by steam ; and, above all, as the grandkey
stone of (he arch, manure, cnrfnllv
selected, must be liberally applied. This
question of manuring is far from being
understood even at the present moment
by tne bulk of the practical farmers of
mi* country; to mo majority ot them the
usual analysis of soil and fertilizers are so
many occult formulae. It is on all hands
admitted that to farm without manure
more or less concentrated,is about >\phope
less a task as attempting to draw water
from a well with aperforated bucket ; but
until our husbandmen learn to view chemical
science as a necessary and indispensaadjunct
of successru! farming, thousands of
rubbish will be annually sold, and tV.e fairest
fields continue to bo inadequately cropped.
'I
To Makr Kan Curkknt Jelly.?Put
your currents in a jar in the oven, and
let them remain till the juice is all out of
them. To a pint of syrup add a pint of
white sugar, pounded, and made quite
hot. Hefore the sugar is added, boil the
syrup very slowly for two minutes ; then
add the sugar, and boil it ten minutes.
A Crack in the Hog-Trough
Some time ago a friend sent me word j
that lie gave, every day, nearly twentypails
of buttermilk to a lot of shoals, and '
they, scarcely improved a hit on it.? .
Thinks 1, this is a breed of hogs worth ;
seeing?they must be of the sheet-irou
kind; so I called on him, heard him ro< I
peat the mournful tale, and then visited !
the sty. In order to get a closer view of j
the miraculous swine, I went into the pen
and on close examination found a crack j
in the trough which much of the contents I
ran away under the floor.
Thinks I. heri. is ili? n-i.o ..f .......1. '
...V ? i I'W "I IIIUOU Ui I
the failures and misfortunes of our agricultural
brethren. When I see a farmer
omitting all improvements because of a | '
little cost, selling all his good farm stock 1
to buy bank, or railroad, or mortgage |
stock, robbing himself and heirs, thinkt I, |
my friend, you have a crack in your hog- j
trough.
When I see a farmer subscribing for !
half a dozen political and miscellaneous I
papers, and spending all his leisure read- 1
ing them, while he don't read a single ag- |
ricultural or horticultural journal?thinks
I to myself, poor man, you have got a
large and wide crack in your hog-trough.
When I see a farmer attending to all
the political conventions, and coming
down liberally with the dust on all caucus
oeeations, knowing every man who votes
his ticket; and vet to save his r.eck, could- I
ti l ted who is i'resident of the County i
Agricultural Society, or where the Fair j
was held last year, I "unanimously" come
to the conclusion that the poor soul lias j
got a crack in his hog irougii.
When I see a farmer buying guano, ,
but wasting ashes and hen manure, try |
ing all sons of experiments except intelleetal
hard work and economy ; getting ;
the choicest seeds, regardless of cultiva
, lion and good sense ; growing the variety j
| of fruit called "hour Tart Seedling," and '
s woelenitig it with sugar, pound for pound 1
keeping tin1 front fields rich and neat, i
' while tin* back !<>ls are overgrown with
! elder, biiar.s, snap dragon, and thistle,
contributing liberally to the Choctaw In
' d:an Fund, and never giving a cent to I
I any Agricultural Society?such a man, I |
I will give a written guarantee, has got a ,
' ciack both in bis head and in his hogtrougli.
When I see a farmer spending his time
1 travelling and visiting in a carriage, w hen j
' be lias to sell bis corn to pay bis hired
i help, and bis hogs are so lean that they
i have to lean against '.lie fence to sustain '
! themselves while squealing, I rather leap I
| to the conclusion that somebody that i
>-la\- at home will have a lien on the I
farm, and sometime the bottom w ill come ,
entirely out of the hog trough.? Orange
Comity banner.
l'OKTKVT OK TIIK "LlTTI.E Ol A XT."
We should judge that the writer of the
i following, which we clip from the Cincin* j
uati Commercial, was not much of a l>ou- |
g.as man. Hear turn: "Douglas belongs I
by temperament ami constitution, to the i
race of bullies llis proper, legitimate i
i sphere's the bar room, or the prize ring,
lie is just the kind of man to be tho la* |
vorite of black-legs ami the iilol of bottleholders
llis endowments of limb and j
muscle, his compact and burly solidity of 1
form, and enormous tistic strength would
have made him facile prince pi among the i
Sullivans, the Morriseys, and the Heenans. ;
Hut the horoscope of his fortunes was dif- |
: feren'ly cast, and having settled early in
I life, in a backwoods country, he was fated 1
to become a politician.
In a community of little intellectual or |
! moral culture, his rise was rapid, for his
I powers were just of the compass which
fitted him to shine where a man of liner
! 11 '- !- 1 > ?
intuic nuuiu |I?V? IKIietl. iiu possessed
moderate intellectual talens, an iron will,
| untiring energy, and unbounded ambition.
lie rose at length, through various gra'
. dations, to be a Senator of the United
' States, and with greedy eyes devouring
the Presidency from a nfar. he has shap
e?l every scheme, and strained every nerve
to win it.
The powers of Douglas as a public or- i
1 ator, are limited to a plain and inonoto- j
I nous re|>etition of one idea, and a bovine j
power of bellowing it to the largest au '
| dience. He is destitute alike of variety,
I compass, tiuinor, pathos and eloquence.
I He exhibits not a solitary gleam of genius, j
I not a ray of wit, nor a spark of imaginai
tion. The only element of eloquence he j
! possesses, is the vox ct preterea nihil (the
1 voice and nothing more) of Virgil.
Laughter and Health.
Cheerfulness is the elixir of life. A
hearty laugh is more potential for health
and virtue than all the portions of pill.
! hags and the creeds of all semi-infidel
pulpits.
t Are you unwell 1 Dangerously had ? |
, Well, do you expect that health will come
to you, and take possession of your tor i
| hid system, as you sit communing wifh
i vour blue spirits ?
! If you wisli to remain comfortable and
happy "through life's restless dm,' you
' must cultivate hopefulness in vour soul.
Look on the pleasant aide?not forgetting
realities?''fear not, only Iwlieve." How
plain and simple nature portrayal how
j sho laughts in the fullness of joy. All
being on earth, and in tho air, unite in
one voice of the purest praise and exultation
to Nature's God. Why despair ?
Always with melancholy?laugh at something,
anything, and nothing; but laugh.
Tut a pleasant joke on your associate, and
allow him to return a similar one.
Laughter is a panacea for ills, bodily
and mental. It dissipates gloom, lightens
care, and drives paiu and the blue devils
off in a hurry f Try it. Laugh, i
iHlllUlCllttS.
Some people in the world appear to
Cud their highest pleasure in being a sort
of social hyenas, gathering together and
digging up the reputations of frail,"fallen
men and women, to feast with greadinesa
and delight, whining and howling over
the loathsome repast the while, as if they
felt sincerely sorry to have found corruption,
when they sought for it alone.?
Have we not all sins enough to make us
patient, if we cannot bo charitable toward
other sinners ?
Yeky Conclusive.?'John.' inroiim.i
,
11 dominie of a hopeful pupil, 'what is a
nailer ?' 'A man who makes nails,' replied
hopeful, quite readily. 'Very good.
Now what is a tailor?' 'One who makes
tatls,' was the equally quick reply. 'Ob,
you blockhead,' said the dominie, biting
his hps ; 'a man who makes tails, did
you ever !' 'To be sure,'quoth hopeful ;
'if tiie tailor didn't put laiis to the coats
lie made, they would all be jackets !'
'Eh ??ah !?.veh!?to ho sure. I didn't
think of that. Beats Watts' logic ! Go
to the top of the class, John ; you'll be a
Member of Congress some day.'
' A Streak Ahead of Noah.?A dispule
once arose between two Scotchmen
named Campbell and McLean, upon the
antiquity of their families. The latter
would not allow that the Campbells had
any right to rank with the McLeans in
antiquity, who, he insisted, were in existence
as a clau from the beginning of the
world. Campbell had a little more biblical
knowledge linn bis antagonist, aud
asked him if the clan of McLean was he*
fore the flood.
'Flood ! what flood Y said McLean.
'Ta flood that you know drownded all
the world hut Noah and his lamilv nn<l
his Hock>,' saul Campbell.
'l'ooh ! you and your Hood,' said MeLean
; 'my clan was afore ta Hood.'
I have noi read in my Bible,' said
I. anpbell, 'ta name of McLean going into
Noah's ark.1
'Noah's ark '.' rotoried McLean in contempt
; 'wha ever heard of a McLean
that hadna a boa't o' his ain V
The Barrister and the Witness.
At an assizes hold during the past
year, both Judge and counsel had a deal
of trouble to make the timid witnesses
upon a trial speak sufficiently loud to
be heard by the jury ; and it was possible
that the temper of the counsel may
thereby have been turned from the even
tenor of its w ay. After this gentleman
had gone through the various stages of
bar pleading, and had coaxed, threatened
and even bullied witnesses, there was
called into the box a young ostler, who
appeared simplicity personfied.
'Now, sir,' said the counsel, in a tone
that would at any other lime have been
denounced as vulgarly loud, '1 hope we
shall have no difficulty in making you
speak out.'
'I hope not zur,' was shouted or rather
bellowed out by the witness, in tones
which almost shook the building, and
would certainly have alarmed any timid
or nervous lady.
'Mow dare you speak in that way, sir?*
'Please zur, I can't speak any louder,'
said the astonished witness, attempting
to speak louder than before, evidently
thinking the fault tp be in his speaking
too softly.
'Pray have you been drinking this
morning ?' shouted the counsel who had
now thoroughly lost the last jemnant of
his temper.
Ves, zur,' was the reply.
'And what have you been drinking ?'
'Coftee, zur.'
'Anil what did you have in your coftee,
sir f' shouted the exasperated counsel.
{A sj/uh zur /' innocently bawled the
witness, in highest key, amidst the roars
of the whole court?excepting only the
now thoroughly wild counsel, who ftunc
? ?
down his brief, and rushed out of court.
Western Eloquence.
Gentlemen of ibe jury?can you for
an instant suppose that my client here, a
man that has always sustained a high
depredation in society, a man who you
all no you suspect and esteem for his
many good qualities ; yes, gentlemen, a
man who never drinks more than does
him good?say a quart a day?can you
fur an instant suppose that ere man
would he guilty of taking a box of percussion
caps ? Picter to yourselves, gentlemen,
an individual fast asleep in his
log cabin, with his innocent wife and orphan
children by his side?all nature
hushed in deep repose, and nought to be
heard but the muttering of the silent
1 thunder and the noise of ibe roaring
winds ; then imagine to yourselves an individuals
making his way to the door like
a hyena, softly entering the dwelling of
the pesceful and happy family, and in
the most dastarly manner abstracting a
w hole box of percusshuu I
Gentlemen, I will not, I cannot dwell
upon such a scene. My feelings (urn
from such a pieter of moral turpentine I
I cannot for an instaut harbor the idea
that any man, much less this ere man,
could be cuiltv of committing an art nf
such unexampled discretion. And now,
gentlemen, alter lliie brief view of the
case, let me retreat of you to make up
your mind* candidly and unparlially, and
! give ua such a verdict as we might reasonably
suspect from such an enlighted
and intolerant body of fellow citizens?
remembering, that in the words of him
who fell in the battle of Bunker Hill, it
is better that ten innocent men escape,
rather thau one guilty should suffer.
Judge, give u$ a piece of tobacco f
%