Cheraw gazette. [volume] (Cheraw, S.C.) 1835-1838, April 19, 1836, Image 1
H
CHERAW GAZETTE. J
m. MACLEAN EDITOR &.PROPRIETOR. CHERAW, S. C., TUESDAY, APRIL 19, 1836. voWk vjj
Published every Tuesday.
TERMS. J
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li paid withinthrco months after the closo
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the 6ame Post Office, shall be entitled to it at ?15, j
paid in advance, and a company of ten persons
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cr, accompanied by the money.
I No papor to bo discontinued but at tho option
I of the Editor till arrearages are paid.
T Advertisements inserted for 75 cents per square
[ the first timo, and 37$ for each subsequent inscr- j
lion.
1 Persons sending in advertisements are request- j
-cd to spdeify tho number of times they aro to be
inserted; otherwise thov will be continued till
ordered out, and charged accordingly.
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Jiications sent by mail.
RIRAL ECOSORY.
ploughing under green crops for ma- !
, nuke.
Being the owner of a small farm, most of
which was in a low state of cultivation at the
timo I commenced making experiments,
and feeling desirous of enriching it faster
than I could with stable and barn yard ma.
nure, the quantity made being small, I therefore
resolved to try the effect of ploughing j
under green crops. The piece upon which j
I tried my experiment contains nearly four
acres, and is of a hazle-nu* colored loam,
lying near the Connecticut river.
^ In 1731, the lot above mentioned had
j wheat and rye reaped from it; about I 3-4
| were of wheat and produced 17 bushels,
yielding 9 5-7 bushels to the acre. The 2 ,
k 1-4 acres of ryo yielded about 27 bushels. ;
? being 12 bushels, to the acre?total of wheat ,
? and rye, 44 bushels. The ground for the j
I wheat was ploughed three times and had j |
'PL., f... |
P . the same number ot tiarrowings. j. uu tor
f. 13-0 was ploughed but twice, with two harrowings;
clover and herd's grass were sown
.on the whole piece. At the time of raising
the grain I did not intend trying any experi- j
ment, but the grass seed not having come
up well, the lot was ploughed once in Au- (
gust, 1832, and sown with "ye, was fed ;
down with sheep in the fall and also in spring j
until about May; thus affording sufficient
lecd to pay the expense of the seed for the ,
. first crop.
After the sheep were taken from the grain,
it was left to grow until about the time it
blossomed, when it was ploughed under,
and the ground sown with buckwheat?1-2
bushel of seed to the acre. \Y hen the buckwheat
was in blossom, that also was plough- j
ed under, of which the ground was suffered
to remain until a short time beforo it was
sown, when it was again ploughed once, j
with wheat and rye, October 3d. Previous ,
to sowing the wheat, the seed was soaked
about twenty-four horn's in brine, and afterward
rolledm plaster, whero it remained in
a body twelve of sixteen hours. My object
in treating it in this manner was to prevent
smut, and the ravages of the Hessian
fly, which has several times destroyed some
of my wheat; the rye wo9 sown in its natural
state.
In the spring of 1634 the whole piece
was plastered with about two bushels to
tho acre. It was sown for the purpose of i
benefitting the young grass, and it has now j
- ?? ?v " "11 r?r?r} Knjc I
(spring ot l830^ come up ncu, uim
liiir to produce nearly twice the quantity of j
feed usually obtained from it in u season.
The quantity of grain which the piece pro.
duced the past season was as follows:
About one acre was sown with white flat
wheat and yielded 18 bushels? 2 3-9 acres
were sowed with red bearded wheat, and
produced 33 bushels, making in all 49 bushels'or
14 1-2 to the acre?5-8 of an acre
was sown with rye and yielded about twelve
being at the rate of 18 1-5 bushels to the
acre. The increase of the wheat crop, according
to the above estimate was more
than 49 per cent, and that of the ryo more
than 59 per cent. Had the past season
been favornbla for wheat crops., 1 doubt not
that I should have obtained eight or ton
IWhnns some may think
t/UOUVIO I1IUAW* J ^
the plaster caused the last crop to be better
than the preceding one; but I do not think
it was, as I sowed some on a pieco of rye
the past season, a part of which was left
unplastered, and it could not bo discovered
that the plaster benefitted either rye or
lapd?the soil was the same as that on which
the wheat was sown.
Northampton Cour.
From tho Farmer & Gardener.
white and other washes, cheap
paints, dec.
As this is the month when tne cleanly,
j^rndont fanner Should be giving his barn
stable*, and other out-houses, garden other
fences, a coat of wash of some kind; above
all, as it is the period when the frugal house
by the aid of a coat or two of white
wash makes old things look new, and clean.ses,
and purifies her kitchen, pantries and
cellars, we take pleasure in annexing the
following recipes from which each may select
such as may suit his or her taste best.
to make a beautiful and lasting
white-wash.
Take 1-4 peck unslaked lime, pour on it
a kettle of boiling water; while the linie is
slaking add half a gallon of stale chamberlie
; when the lime is perfectly slaked dillute
it with water to a proper consistence,and add
to this mixture 1-4 ounce of Prussian blue.
This will give you a beautiful and lasting
wash that will look nearly as well as white
paint. By increasing the quantity of blue
you may make either a pale or dark blue as
best suits your taste?or if you prefer it, by
adding yellow or red ochre, you, may impart
either of these tints to your wash.
to make a cheap paint or white-wash
Take 2 quarts skimmed milk
" 2 ci'jiccs fresh slaked rn:e
i
.1
5> pounds whiting.
Put the lime into a stone vessel, pour upon,
it a sufficient quantity of milk to tnake a mix-'
ture resembling cream,then add the remain-;
der ofthc milk. When this is done, crumble
and spread the whiting on the surface of
the fluid, in which it will gradually sink. It
must, after all the whiting has been precipitated,
be well stirred, or ground us you
' would other paint, when it will be fit for
use. By the addition of any coloring matter
you may make it suit your fancy.
It should be put on with a paint brush,
and when dry a second coat should be given
it.
Thrt nnnnfiftr nknvo ? 1*R Rllffi.
A. 11V VJUUUUIJ UUUIV IIVIIUUIIVO tw ?
cient for 27 square yards.
INCOMBUSTIBLE WASH AND STUCCO WHITE.
The basis for each is lime, which must be
first slaked with hot water in a small iub or
piggin and covered to keep in the steain; it
then should be passed in a fluid form thro'
a fine sieve to obtain the flour of the same.
It must be put on with a painter's brush?
two coats are best for outside work.
First. To make a fluidfor the roof and
other parts of wooden houses, to render them
incombustible : and coating for brick, tile, '
stone-work and rough-cast to render them :
impervious to water, and give them a dura, i
ble aud handsome appearance. 1
T\)Qproportions in each recipe are five
gallons. JSlake your lime as before direc- <
ted, say six quarts, into which put one quart <
of clean rock salt fyr each gallon of water, i
to be dissolved by boiling, and skimmed 1
clean; then add to the 0 gallons one pound i
of copperas,three-fourths of a pound of Pot- <
ash, the last to be gradually added, four 1
quarts of line sand or hard wood-ashes, say 1
hickory. You may add any coloring mat- I
ter that your taste may dictate. It should <
be put on with a painter's brush; it will it is t
said look better than paint, and be as 1
lasting as slate; will stop the small leaks, I
prevent the moss from growing, and, render <
the part painted with it incombustible. J
Second. To inakje a brilliant stucco ichitewash.
Take clean lumps of well burnt t
stone lime (oyster shell lime will do as well,) ?
slake as before; directed ; and add 1-4 lb. of J
whiting or burnt alum pulverized, 1 lb. of 1
e..iiv intn ri thin C
SUJJUr. I'lill) KJl (IUW iiuwt iliuvv .uw " (
and very well bodied paste, 1 lb. of clean i *
glue, dissolved by simmering over a slow 1
fire. It is more brilliant than plaster of Pa- J <
risand will last for 50 years. It should bo .
put on warm.
CHEAP -WHITE PAINT. .; '
One pound of unslaked lime 1 lb. Span- ] *
ish Whiting, 1 gallon of sweet Milk, 1 gal- 1
Ion Flaxseed Oil, 1 tablespoonfull ofSalt;?
pour on the lime sufficient water ?t> slake it, J
and while the lime is slaking, pour in the
oil so as to cook it$thin, add the whiting and \
salt, then pour on the milk and stir it well, j
A CHEAP GREEN* PAINT.
Take 4 lbs. of Roman Vitrol, and pour .
upon it a tea kettle full of boiling water : '
when the vitrol is dissolved, add two pounds
of pcarlasb, and stir the mixture well with
a stick until the effervescence ceases ; then
add a quarter of a pound of pulverized yel-1
low arsenic, and stir the whole together. ! j
Lay it on with a paint brush, and if the ^
wail has not been painted before, two or .
three coats will be necessary. If a pea ! J
green be required, put in less, and if an ap- ;
pie green, more of the yellow arsenic. The j
cost of this pnintis loss than one fourth of I j
oil color, and the beauty far superior.
Yankee Farmer, i i
? !
From tho Tcnncssco Farmer.
J f
t/\ wernnv wnmrs ON* CABBAGE.
The following receipt has been communicated
to us by a subscriber. ]
Judge Emmerson: i
For at least 15 years past I have pursued J'
the following mode of destroying worms ou
cabbage with uniform success:
A bout day-break, when the dew is on them 1
take rye meal in a sifter and sift it on every
head that has any worms on it; as soon as
the dew dries they will become stiff from the I'
meal attached to them while wet, and will ]
never move again ; this you may rely on. <
The same subscriber also communicates
the following mode of cultivating Sweet Po- <
tatos, for which we return him our thanks.
If every farmer in the country would follow
his example, in communicating to us nil the
useful knowledge acquired by him, and not
already disseminated, no one can compute
the amount of good which would thereby (
result to the community. (
-
To tho Editor of the Tennessee Farmer. i i
Sir: Inoncofyour late numbers, I noti- *
ced directions for raising sweet potatos.? I
I have pursued it heretofore with success,
and in warm countries when seed is scarce I
it is a very good one. Last spring I plan- I
ted an acre in the following manner: After i
breaking up the ground 7 or 8 inches deep i
I checked it off with furrows about 3 feet i:
apart I then put 2 or 3 quarts of leached :
ashes on each check where the hill is usu- <
ally made; I then dropped two uncut pota- |
tos in the centre of each check, covered 1
them with the hoe, and made the hill in cul- 1
tivating them. In seven years past, I have i
not made a hill to plant in. Last year I raised
on one acre four hundred bushels.
If I lived in a climate as unfavorable as 1
vours for sweet potatos, I would use strong <
ashes and lime slacked and unslacked in the i
bottom of the hills and have no doubt the <
practice would prove highly beneficial to i
your sweet potato crop. I have been uni- <
formly more successful than my neighbors
in raising sweet potatos. Two years ago :
the season was remarkably dry, yet, by not
planting my potatos above the surface off <
the surrounding ground I made at least a
common crop. These suggestions are at i
your sorrier.
NEW MODE OF COOKING IRISH POTATOES.
The followiug mode of cooking Irish Potatoes
is highly recommended to us by a
gentleman who has recently eaten potatoes
thus dressed in the northwest.
-Instead of putting the potatoes in the water
first put a quantity of rocks in the vessel in
which they are to be cooked pour in water
amongst the rocks until it rises to a few
inches of the;top of them?then lay the potatoes
on the rocks so as not to come in
contact with the water and let it boil until
the potatos are cooked by the steam. It is 1
stated, and we have no doubt correctly that
potalos thus treated will he much more
dry, mealy and better tasted, than if boiled
in the water. The process is simple and ;
easy and well deserves the attention of all
housewives who have any ambition to ex- ]
ccl in the performance of their appropriate <
duties. Potatos thus treated, we should ]
suppose, would not only be far more grate- <
ful to the taste, but a much healthier article ;
of diet, than those dressed in the ordinary
mode. We say to the ladies try the experi- I
rnent. 1
.!
Cows.?The management of cows, so as
to keep them healthy, and ensure a constant
supply of pure milk, is not generally under- '
stood in cities, and if understood is not practiced.
Strolling through Orangc,nearGrand
street says the Editor of the New York Star
our olfactory nerves were refreshed with the
Jelightful odor of cows, something like new
mown hay, which perfumed the air, and that
too in a part of the city not remarkable for
its cleanliness. On pushing open the door <
of a wooden stable or pen, we found thirty
ftnc cows each in a stail,and kept in the most :
wholesome manner. They were attended
oy grooms like horses, curried and kept 1
:lean daily, fed with warm swill three '
imcs in twenty four hours besides meal and
jay. The swill is emptied into a vat and ]
mi infrv flimi* n r??l tlui ^'00 I1CO I (
?Ulil|?CU I1IU/ UlUi HUU^UllUV^ Uo^
)f water coursing constantly through the <
?tablc keeps the place sweet and clean.? 1
Die consequence of this treatment is, that '
heir hides are smooth and glossy, the ani- ]
nals lively and their udders distended with '
rtilk which is served to city customers.? '
We think this mode preferable to turning 1
x>ws loose 011 the common to pick up*the 1
;tump shrubbery and nip the rank grass, or '
,valk the streets gathering the offals of the |
nty. _. 1
1
TO MAKE rilRrETL'AL VK AST. ' 1
Take one pound fine flour, make it the ]
thickness of gruel with boiling water, add I
to it half a pound of loaf sugar, mix them
ogcther, put three spoonfuls of well purified t
y'east into a large vessel, upon which put *
lie above ingredients, and they will soon
'erinent violently. Collect the yeast off*the |
* * 11 1_ A
op, ana pui u uuo a smaii neca per, euvur
t up from the air, and place it in a dry .and
warmish place; when used in part replace
with flour made into a thin paste, and sugar
a the former proportion. I saw tin's used
tfter it had been five months made. No
reast is necessary except the first time.
RECIPES.
TO TAKE OUT IRON MOULDS.
Hold the iron moulds over the fumes of
foiling water for some time, then pour on
he spot a little juico of sorrel and a little salt,
md when the cloth lias thoroughly imbibed
the juice, wash it in ley.
PASTE FOR CHOPPED HANDS.
Wash a quarter of a pound of unsalted
ard?first in common, then in rose water,
mix with the yolks of 2 new-laid eggs, and a
nrw snnonfiil ofhonev. Add as niUch fine ,
~*o 1 *
oatmeal, or almond paste, as will work it into
paste. i
TO REMOVE SPOTS OF INK FK03I LINEN. 4
Takc'a mould candle or some pure tallow,
melt i^a^ip-tlie spotted part oflinen
in the mej^^Hiow, then put it into the '
wash, wheB^^P become perfectly white. j
This given fSm experience.
Contents of the last number of the Farmer
Gardener. j
Work for April?recipes /or making j
beautiful white and other washes, cheap ,
paints, &c?Continuation of professor Du- i
:aters report?properties of a good farmer
?green crops as a manure?prices current, |
&c.?advertisements.
PARENT'S DEPARTMENT.
From the Mother's Magazine.
PARENTAL CONSISTENCY.
The common#xiom "the world loves
consistency," is none the less true, or forcible,
from its triteness; and among the
i i ^
multitude wno are empioyca in scanning
[he inconsistencies of others, children arc
the most eagle-eyed, and severe. Not that
we would charge them with uncharitableness,
for we believe that none are misanthropes
by birth; nor do they study to be <
scrutinizing and captious ; it is t^e natural
impulse of the mind. God has implanted
in their bosom a conscience, a sense of
right and wrong, which has not been
deadened bv incessant clashing with the
principles and practices of the world; and
they are like a blade, just from the hand of
the artificer, that has not lost its lustre, or
its edge.
We, who have been long in tho world,
have become inured to the perpetual collision
between our consciences and existing
evils and sins. When, therefore, we sec
inconsistency in others, see the conduct and
example even of those whom we respect
and love, palpably making their instructions
and principles a lie, we are not surprized;
we have seen it a thousand times before, and
say, with a sort of resignation, or rather a
feeling of despair, "O, it is human nature
or, if we should attempt to raise the harsh
voice of censure, there is the misgiving of
a guilty heart, effectually to cor found and
' *
S'lSpC- * -
But not so with children; untaught and
unsuspecting, they believo men are what
they appear to be. Accustomed to look
up to their parents as superlatively excellent,
and wise, and good, they are startled, and
confouuded, at the first discovery or an
inconsistency.
The humility ofa little child is proverbial.
They feel that they have been in the world
hut a little while?that they have done little
?that they kuow but little. But, O, their
anticipations! O, the glory of being men
and women! The child supposes that
there is something?a very vast some where,
or something, that he shall then know all
about; and he exults in tho prospect, with
something of the feeling of our first parents
when they ate the forbidden fruit, upon the
promise of being as gods, knowing good and
Ejvil. Well, now the child looks upon his.
parents as having entered the mighty fiel.d,
and as having, in consequence, knowledge,
motives, principles, designs, and pleasures,
which he knows nothing about, and with all
the curiosity of his first mother, he employs
all his ingenuity to get a glimpse into the
mysterious inclosure.
In this enterprize nothing is lost^pr overlooked.
The words, the looks, the conduct
of the* parents, in all the circumstances
of life; in the time of ease or pleasure as
well as in the hour of sickness, of danger,
of trying emergency, all arc watched and
remembered, ever}' scrap is treasured up,
and, at a convenient season, all ni# called
forth, made to pass ij) careful revie^P-compared,
reasoned upon, and when the results
are made out, are dismissed, only to be
recalled at another time, to pass, perhaps, a
sterner ordeal. Now imagine the child,
while engaged in this research, to have discovered
in his mother's conduct or instructions,
some inconsistency, or contradiction.
He is confounded. lie had heretofore supposed
that she could not do wrong. He
docs not now believe it. The recent occurrcncc
is compared with all his former
observations, ami the result of every former
analysis is recollected. He is in a state of
painful incertitude. In this dilemma another
discrepancy is discovered. The fact,
which he dared not before suspect, is now
forced upon his mind, and the novel idea of
his mother's carcelessncss, or deception, or
fraud, is entertained without a feeling of
guilt. Subsequent discoveries only confirm j
:hc truth of his suspicions; until he knows
md feols that his mother, whom he had supposed
righteous in all her judgments, and
perfect in all her ways, is capricious, or
hypocritical, or passionate, like himself.
I'hus falls a mother's influence, and great is j
he fall of it; and most ruinous, for it dc- i
=troys her children.
The mother is most careful to provide
Ixjoks for Jior child, and to 6ccurc him from
corrupting scenes, and company; but let
icr remember, that her countenance is his
Irst book, and her example his first lesson.
J mother! anapxpression of impatience in
:hinc eye, or a* angry word from thy lip,
vill make an impression on the heart of thy
child; which no tears of thine can ever
cfFacc. Go, mother, if thou wilt, deceive,
misslead, corrupt thy neighbor, thy friend,
Jie husband of thy youth; but O, spare, j
spare thy little one. Thou has given him l
in immortal existence. Would^t thou
make that existence for ever miserable?
Better plunge thy dagger in his infant bosom,
Vit- tliinn nwri oanrice. or
, I I 1*14 ^ U> ItiiilV V Mil VM? V* WNr..<.??7 J T
wicked indulgence, to prepare his heart for
lie sword of his heavenly Father's vengeance.
I w ould now mention some of the points
ivhere parents aro in most danger of inconsistency.
I speak to Christian parents,
for it is they who leel most interested in this
subject, and, (with humiliation be it expressed,)
it is their inconsistencies which are so
palpable, and 6o ruinous to their children.
It is the immense disparity between the professed
principles, instructions, and prayers
of the parent, and her daily conduct, her
liabits of feeling and expression, that perplexes
tlie child, and is an obstacle over
which ho is perpetually stumbling. This
incongruity is at once mysterious and painful.
He watches, compares, and endeavors,
but vainly, to reconcile the principles and
practice of his parent, until, weary, disgusted,
and distressed, he banishes the subject
from liis mind, pronounces his mother
a hypocrite, despises her' instructions,
loathes, her prayers,contemns her Bible,and
renounces her God. Giro me the child of
an Arab, or a Hindoo; but O, save mc
from the fearful responsibility of that mother
who has deafened her children with exhortations
and prayers, and yet has, as it
were, forced them into the path of death, by
' - *lw>
snutting up, wun ncr own vxuujjm;, mv
of life.
Children notice little Jhings. Their feeling
of right and wrong is sensitive in the
extreme, and a Christian mother may murder
the soul of her child, and then exclaim,
with consternation and horror, " an enemy
had done this!"
1 knew a mother once?a Christian
mother too, and one deeply anxious for the
salvation of her children. In the morning
she would call them all unto her, pray for
each of them oxccessivcly, and with great
particularity ; the Bible was i^ad, explained,
and enforced; the Amen was said, the door
opened, and the children escaped as from a
prison. Mention the subject of religion,
and it would not excite in them, as in other
children, feelings of solemnity and awe, but
only loathing and contempt. And in the
church, what children trifled and despised
the worship of God ? And in the school,
what children disturbed their teacher,wronged
and oppressed their fellows? It*was
these. And why were these means of
salvation, and the Bible, a fountain of life,
made, to these hapless children, a. wellspring
of poison and death? It was the
yy of the mother." Iljr
| instead of enforcing, with irresistible power,
her instructions, and proving the sincerity
of her prayers, made them all a fable, or
a pretence. True, she committed no disciplinable
offence. She was a good wife,
ant! mother, and mistress, in the estimation
of the world. Hut where was the savor of
her religion? Where the unsullied exhibition
of those things which are lovely
and of good report ? Where the feeling of
her Saviour's presence, her love to his name,
her zeal to do his will, which might ba exhibited,
and ought as plainly to be seen by
her children, in each trifling event of the
day, as in her morning devotions. And 0,
where was that deep anxiety, which she
seemed to feel in the morning, f<jr the salvation
of her children ? Had she left it all
at the maternal altar? or, had she never
felt it ? 0,.it is because, children hear so
much and see so little, that they are sceptical.
1. Mother, first feel for your child; feel
deeply, tmi form ly anxious for his salvation;
for whatever your feelings are, he will know
them; you cannot elude his eagle eye.
2. Beware of disclosing your feelings,
or, at least, let there not be an apparent
attempt to exhibit them, either to himself or
to others. This wouid be most ruinous.
Rather lethim feel that there exists in your
ta^oma well-spring of feeling and anxiety,
which others know nothing of, and which
even he cannot fathom. ?
3. Be consistent in your reproofs. Let
your child see in your deep grief .and
sadnes^ that he has sinnncTagainst God,
and that it is this which distresses you, for
this is what you profess. And let lum not
see, in your ang y countenance, that be lias
only vexed his mother.
*4. Be consistent in your approvals. Let
your child, when he has done well, as the
lliblc directs, see, in the calm, tlamkful
satisfaction of your countenance, that you
are pleased and thankful, because God is
obeyed, for this is what you profess.
5. Beware, when your child has done
well, of appearing surprized, or elated, as
though he were wonderfully good, or he
will soon get the idea that he is a perfect
little saint, when, in fact, lie will be only a
jierfect little Pharisee.
6. Always, before others, let your professions
and prayers fall short of yoursreal
and habitual feelings, or your child will set
you down, ere you are aware, for a hyjiocrite.
Let him believe, however much you -say,
that the half is not told?that it cannot he
uttered.
7. Lot vour secret devotions, for the sake
of your child, if not for your own welfare,
be frequent, and always at stated periods.
I recollect noticing, when a very little child,
that ray father always retired into a certain
room, at certain hours of the day. The
fact was, at first, very mysterious, but his
object could not long remain a -matter of
doubt ? and that single circumstance threw
a fear and solemnity over my miriil which
nothing could efface.
My attention was then directed to my
mother. I rose up early, and sat up late,
and ate the bread qf watchfulness. I could
not discover that she prayed. The uncertainty
was very painful. I began to look
upon her with suspicion and fear, doubted
every thing she said, or did. At last, I
one day suspected, hoped, knew, that she
had been praying; and -I subsequently
learned that her morning liour of prayer
* '111 L _ 11
I was Deioro uay-oreaK. lsuau never ivrgct,
when she came from her room, the gratitude,
and confidence, and love, with which I went
I and laid mv head in her lamp. Remember
that you? child is A sagacious and untiring
I " spy upoiT your proceedingsand when
you come from your retirement, let him see,
in tiie heavenly calmness of your look, and
the sweet kindness of all your expressions,
'that you have been with Jesus.
y. You profess to love the Bible above
nil other books. Let your conduct say
this. When weary and exhausted, let your
child see, that you invariably have recourse
to the Bible for iclaxation. Let this once
be written on his watchful mind, and ten
thousand thrilling incidents, and years of
guilt and thoughtlessness, will not efface or
obscure it.
But it is impossible to enumerate all the
ways in which parents are in danger of
manifesting inconsistency. Mother, watch
yourself. Your child watches you, his eye
watches every motion ; his ear is bent to
catch every sound from your lips. In his
? l>n Anai-f
| WHO UQSOJJl la iixrusmcu uj* ? v?.v.v?w
j word aud motion, and no efforts of yours,
| can ever avail to unlock or plunder his
| storehouse. MotHfcr, watcli yourself; how
can you expect your Saviour's blessing if
you slight his most solemn and repeated
injunction to watchfulness? Mother, watch
yourself!
Fronj the Boston Gazette.
At the present moment, the commence,
incnt of 1836, the population of the city of
New York is 269,873
Philadelphia 200,000
Baltimore 92,000
Boston. 78,6031
.New Orleans 60,000
Charleston 35,500
And this table wiil show the gradual increase:?
N. York, Phil. Baltimore,
1700 33,131 42,520 13,503
1800 60,480 70,287- 25,614
1810 96,373 96,654 46,555
1820 123,706 119,325 52,738
1825 197,059 140,000 70,000
1830 203,007 167,811 80,625
1835 209,873 190,000 92,000
Boston. N. Orl'ns. Charlestons.
1790 18,088 6,600 16,359
1800 24,937 9,500 18,713
1810 33,500 17,312 24,711
1820 43,298 27,176 24,780
1825 3*8,277 25,000 24,500
1830 P3.3?l 46,210 30,000
1 S
1885 77,893 89,1)00 844500 |
One hundred years ago, the entire population
of the above six principal cities in tho jjjM
United States, scarcely amounted to85,000. <1
Fifty fire years after, in 1790,' wbcQ the ^3
first national enumeration was taken, it hail 1
increased to 129,781, and at the present
time amounts to 785,000. ^
Such indeed has been the wonderful idcrease
of the city of N.York within fho ? "iS
last 40 or 45 ydars, that from a population
of about 30,000, when it was outranked by ^
more than fifty cities in Europe, ft hflli al- - j
ready, incredible as it may seem, and in less; ^3H
than half a century, acquired a rank and
importance that is only exceeded by thefit-. 4
lowing six cities throughout the whole extern ?J|
/ .t . n j i
of tne European conunem: &S
London, * 1,500,000 ^
Paris, 050,000
Constantinople, 500,Q00
St. Petersburg, 350,000 ?
Naples, 350,000
Vienna, 300,000 .
New York, being 270,000 , lias
already outranked?
Dublin, 250,000 Venica 150,000
Liverpool 200,000 MUan 130,000 ,
Manchester 175,000 Prague 110^00
Birmingham 130,000 Moscow 250,000
Edinburg 150,000 Berlin 250,000Glasgow
150,000 Amsterdam 200,000
Lyons 140,000 Copenhagen 129,000.
Bordeanx 110,000 Palermo 100*000
Marseilles 120,000 Barcelona 150,000
Lisbon 250,000 Madrid 120,000
It must, at the same time, not be forgotten,
that roost of the above cities of Europe
i ^i" JT ?J? ?? 0% ihAiiciinrl
iiuvu cuvw iicanv or (juiio u IUWIU>W<
years, and have oniy acquired tlieir present
rank and importance during the lap*? of
ages. St. Petersburg, if our memoir fOTfs
us, is the only one among them that may
be considered at all contemporary with our
own cities, having entirely grown up within
the last century and a half.?Philadelphia,.
too, although outranked in some degree by
the superior growth of New York, has already
taken a proud stand along side, or
ahead of many of the oldest cities of Europe;
while Baltimore and Boston are fast
' treading upon the heels of some that only a
few years since was out of sight ahead of
them. New Orleans is also pushing on
with rapid strides, and in the "far West"
innumerable towns and cities are springing
' ~ ? --'1 ooonminA nn imrmrbincC
IIJIU t.wtCHdjv_u auu uiMuiutiig uh ?Mp?..... ? ,
that 20 or 25 years ago was little though*. S
or dreamed of. Some of them already
number 10,20,30, nay nearly 40,000 inhabitants,
and in the course of a very few
years, will outstrip many in the old world,, N
whose name have been familiar to us and.
our fathers before us, an for hundred years.
. . . ' , " t'TE"" .
FOUEIGX.
9 ^ < -
TEXAS.. ' .
The following is a more corratf ac*?>
count of the Texian news furnisher fionw
one of our exchange papers last week.
From the Now Orleans Bulletin. ~
We learn by the passengers of the schooner
Cumanche, eight days from Texas,,
that on the 2oth February, the Texian.
i - r??- - mn JL?
Unrnson in i)c.\<aT( ui iuu mcui vuuiiuhw
ed byLt. Col.' B. Trans, was attackedhy/ _ JJ
the advunco division of Gen. Santa-Anna V
army, consisting of 3000 men, who were J
repulsed witn the- loss -of many killed,
between 500 to 800 meo, without the loss
of one man of the Texians. About the
same time, Col. Johnson whh a party of
70 men, while rcconnoitering the westward 4
of San Patricio, was surrounded in the night Jm
by a large body of Mexican troops. In
the morning the demand of a surrender
was made by the Mexican commander,,
unconditionally, which was refused ; but an
offer of surrender was mado as prisouers of
war, which was acceded to by the Mexicans;
but no sooner had the Tcxrnns marched out
of their quarters and stacked their aims,
titan a general fire was opened upon them
by the whole Mexican force. The Tcxians
attempted to esca{>o, but only three of them
succeeded?one of whom was Col. Johnson.
Between the 25th of February and the
3d of March, the Mexicans were employed *
hj forming'eritreochments around the Alamo
.and bombarding die place. On the 2d of
"March, Col. Travis wrote that 200 shells
had been thrown into the Alamo without in.
juring a man. On the 1st of March, the
garrison of Alamo received'a reinforcement
""" 't1?: ^1niw.<ilai>Kn*ina farced
J 01 X C.\!clii9 ItKjlII Q, ? _
tlieir way through the ciiemyVfine, making
the number iu the Alamo 182 men,
1 On the 6th of Jlfarch, about midnight
the Alamo was assaulted by the whote Bfexic
in array, commanded by Gen. Santa
Anna in person ; the battle was1 desperate
until day light, when only 7 meti belonging
to the 1 exion garrison were /ound alive who *
cried for quarter, but were told that
was no mercy for them; they then condhuj
ed fighting until they were butchered* One
woman, Mrs. Dickinson and * negro ofCol.
I Travis, were the only persons who were
1 spared. We regret to say that Col. David , *
Crocket, his companicW Mr. Benton, and
Col. Bonham of South Carolina, were among
the slain. Gen. Bowie was murdered in his
bed sick and helpless.?-Gen Cos, on en.
tering the Fort, ordered the servant of CoJ?
Travis to point out the bodyof hi* mjutcr i
he did so, when Cos drew his sgwd and
mangled Jhe face and limbs with tne malignant
feeling of a Camanchc savage.- The
bodies of the slain were thrown into a heap
in the centre of the Alamo and burned. Tbo
loss of the Mexicans in sftifanrag the place
was not less than 1000 killed and mortally
wounded, and as many wounded?-making
with their loss in their first assault, between
2 and 3,000 men. The flag used by the
Mexicans was a blood red is plaep of tho
Constitutional ono* " .
Immediatelyafier the capture, Gen Santa ,
Ahiia Mr*. Xfcikingpn tii-I sprisit in
J