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TRI-WEEKLY EDITION. WINNSBOlO, S. C., NOVEMBER 18, 1879. VOL. II.-NO. 125. REST, My feet are wearied, and my hands aro tired My soul oppressed ; And with desire have I long desirod, Rout-only rest. 'Tie hard to toil. when til is almost vain, In barren ways ; 'Tis hard to sow, and never garner graii In harvest days. The birdeni of my dia i is hard to b ar. But God knows best ; Aul I have prayedbut vain has been iny prayer For rest-sweet rest. Tia hard to plat-t in spring, and never reap The autumia yield 'Tis hard to till, and whon 't-s tilled to weep O'er fruitless field. And so I ory, a weak and human ery, So heart-opprossed ; And so I sigh, a weak and human sigh, For rest-for rest. My way has wound across the desert years, And cares infest 3My path; and through thd flowing of hot toa 0 I pine for rest. 'Twos always so, when still a child I laid On mother's breast 3My wearied little head; o'en then I prayed As now, for rest. A nl I am roetless still ;'twill soon be o'er For, down the West, Ufa's sun in setting, and I see the shore Where I shall rest. HAPPILY RUINED Arthur Morton sat in a room in his ho tel. le wias a young man, six and twenty, tall and slin frame, with a face of great intellectual beauty, dressed in costly gar ments, though his toilet was but indifferent ly performed. As the youth sat thus, his door Was open ed, and an elderly gentleman entered. "Ai, doctor, you aro moving early this morning," said Morton, as he lazily rose from his seat and extended his hand. "Oh, not early for me, Arthur," returned Weston, with a bright smile. "I am an eariy bird." "Well, have you caught a worn this time ?" "I hope it will prove a valuable one." "1 don't know," sighed the youLh. "I fear a thousand worms will inherit this poor body era long." "Nonsense, you're worth half a century yet," cried the doctor, giving him a gentle slap on the shoulder. "But Just tell me, Arthur, how is it with Crosby I" "Just as I told you. All is gone." "I don't understand it, Arthur." "Neither do, I," said the young man, sorrowfully. "That Matthew Crosby could have done that thing, 1 would not, could not, have believed. Why, had an angel ap peared to me two weeks ago, aud told me that Crosby.was shaky, I would not have paid a moment's atteition to It. But only think, when my father died, he selected for my guardian his best friend, and such I even now believe Matthew Crosby was, and in his hands hie placed his wealth, left for him to keep until I was of age. And when I did arrive at that period of life my money where It was; I had no use for it. .Several times within threo or four years has Crosby asked me to take my money and invest it, but I would not. I bade him keep it, and use it, if he wished. I only asked that when I wanted money he would honor my demand. I felt more safe, in fact, than I should have felt had my money been In a bank on deposit." "How much had he when he left I' "le should have had $100,000." "What do you mean to do'?" "Ah, you have me on the hip there." "And yet you must do something, my son. Iheaven knows I would keep you if 1 could, I shall claim the privilege of pay.. ig your debts, however." "No, no-doctor-none of that." "But I tell you I shall. I shall pay your diebts, but beyond that I can only help you to assist yourself. What do you say to go -ing to sea?" Afaint smIle swept over the youth's pale features at this remark. "I should make a smart hand at sea, doc tor. I can hardly keep m'y legs on shore. No, no, I must-" "Must what, Arthur U' "Alas, I know not. I shall diethat is all I" - "Nonsense, Arthur, I say, go to sea. You couldn't go into a shop, and you would niot if you could. You do not wish to ro main here, amid the scenes of your bappier dlaya. Think of ite-at sea you would be free from all sneers of the heartless, and free from all contact with things you loath. Think of it," "If I went to sea, what could I do ?" "You understand all the laws of foreign trade?'' "Yes. You know I had a thorough schooling at that in my father's counting house." "Then you can obtain thie berth of a super-cargo." "Are you sure I can get one ?" "Yes." 9 "Dr. Weston, 1 will go." Arthur walked home one evening to the = house of a wealthy merchant, John Mel b~urne. It was a palaflal dwelling,- and many a hopeful, happy hour had he spent * honeath Its roof. He rung the bell and was admitted to the parlor. In a few minutes * ~ Grace Melburrne entered. She was only - twenty. She had been witing until that ago to ho Arthur's wife. Somec words were spoken and then many minutes of painful silene ensued. "Grace, you know all, f am going from mny nativo land a beggar, I cannot stay hon gor now. Grace, did Ifknow you Iess than I(do-or knowing you well, did I know you as 1 do many-I should gito back your Vows anid free you from all bondpge. But I believe i should tramuplo upon your heart did I do that thing now. I know your ( love is too pure and deep to be torn from your bosom at will. So I sy-wait I There are other foolings in tihe heart besides Jove. T(hat love Is a poor, profitless passion which put. aside all other ceonsiderations. We must love for eternity, an~d so our love must '4- ibe free. Wait. I sim going to work--aye uiponi the sea to work." "Alas i must it be I" - "It miust. You Will Wait?" "Wlwait otli to the gatos of the heaouio ndpesveyt" his own daily bread all fairly assumed. Ai I it was a strange life for himn to enter upon. From the ownershtip or iiiense wealth to the trade books of a nerchant ship was a transition indeed. bit., ere he went on dock again, he had fully resolved that lie would do his duty, coio whit would, short of death. le would forget that he ever did else but work for his live hood. V ith these resolves clearly deteri med in his nind. ie already felt hetter. At first our supercargo was too weak to do much. lie was very sick, and it lasted nearly two weeks, but when that passed off, and he could face the vibraLim deck witl. a stout stomach his appetite grew shurp, and lils inuseles began to grow strong. At first Ie craved soine of the miaiiy deli. cacies he had long been used to, but they were not to be had, and ho very oion learned to do without them. The result wias that his appetite became natural In its wants, and his system began to find itself nour ished by simple food taken In proper quan titles. For years lie had looked upon breakfast as a meal which must bo set out and par taken of from mere fashion. A cup of coffee, and perhaps a piece of dry toast, or a seasoned or highly spiced tidbit, had con aituted the morning meal. But now, when the break fast hour caie, he approach ed it with a keen appetite, and felt as strong and as hearty as at any other time of the (lily. By degrees the hollow cheeks became full, the dark eyes assumed new lustre, the color, rich and healthful, caime to the face, the breastswelled with increasing power, the lungs expanded and grew strong, the muscles became more firm and true, the nerves grew strong, and the garments which he had worn when he camo on board had to be let out sonic inches In order to make them fit. His disposition became cheerful and bright, and by the tinie the ship had reached the southern cape of Africa the crew had all learned to love Iin. Through storm and sunshine, through tempest and calm, through dark hours and bright, (lie young supercargo made his voy age. In one year from the day which lie left his native land lie placed his foot again upon the soil of his home. But lie did not stop. The same ship witi the same officers, was going upon the same cruise again, and lie meant to go in her. He saw Grace Melburne, and she would wait. Ile saw Dr. Weston, and the kind old gentleman :.ralsed him for his manly independence. Again Arthur Morton was upon the sea, and again he assumed the duties of his of fice, and even more. le even stood watch when there was no need of it, and during seasons of storm lie claimed a post on deck. At the end of another year the young man returned to his home again. lie was now eight and twenty, and few who knev him two years before could recognize him now. His face was bronzed by exposure, his forn was filled out to perfection, and no was greeted with great affection by old Dr. Weste11, who would insist on his staying with him during his leave on shore. One day after Arthur's arrival, lie suddenly burst Into the room and said abruptly: I"'Well, Arthur, Mr. Crosby is her. Will you see him ?" "See hhin See Matthew Crosby? Of course I will. IHe owes tmie an explanation, and I hope lie can give me a satisfactory one. ' ic door was opened and Mr. Crosby en tered. le was an elderly man, but halo and hearty. The old man and the young one shook hands, and then inquired after each other's health. "You-received a note froni me sone two years ago," said Crosby, "in which I stated that one in whon 1 ti usted had got your money and mine with it, and that I could not pay you." "Yea sir," answered cur hero, not know ing what was to conme next. "W~ell," resumed Crosby, "Dr. Weston was the man. Hg had your money." "Ilow? What ?" graseped Arthur, gaz ing from one to the other in blank aston Ishmient. "Hold on, my boy,", said the doctor, whIle a thousand emotions seueed to work wvithini lis bosonm. "I was the villain. It was I who got your money. I worked your ruIn, and I will tell you why ; 1 saw that, you were dying. Your father dIled of the same disease. A consumpIthin wais upon him-not the regular puhnoniary affection, but a wasting away of the systemi for want of vitality. The mi. was wecarlng out the body. The soul was slowly eating its way from thio cords that bound it to the earth. I know that you could be cured, andI I knew, too, that the only thIng In the world which would cure you was to tihrow you onm your own physical resources for am livehmood. There was a morbId willingness of the spirit to pass away. You would have dhiedl erc you would have mado an exertion from the fact that you looked upon exertion as worses than death It was a strang state of both mind and body. Your fortune rendered work unnecessary, so there was no hope wvhile that fortune remained, Had It been a wholly bodily malady, I could have argu ed you into necessary work for a cure. And on the other hand had It been awhiolly men tal disease, I might have drmiven your body to help your mind. But both were weak, and I know you must either work or (lie. "And now, my boy, I'll tell you where my hope lay. I know that you possessedI such a true prido of Idependence that you would work. I saw Crosby, and told hiim my plans. I assured him if we could con trive to get you to sea, and make you start out Into active life, for the snkO 'of a live hood, you could be saved. He joined me at once. I took your money and lis, and then bid him clear out. You know the rest. Your money Is safe-every penny of it-to thieamoumit of -150,000.. Poor Crosby has suffered much In knowIng how you look ed upon him; but I know that hie isamply repaid by the sight of your noble, powerful frame, as lhe sees it toenight. And ~now, Arthur, are we foregiven?' It was a full hour before all the questions of the happy frienads could be asked and an swered, and when the doctor and Crosby had~bcen forgIven and blessed for the twen leth time, Mr. -Molbumrne said, "Wait I" He loft the room and' when lie returned the led sweet Grace by the hand. Late in the evening, after the health of our friends had fairly b'egun to grow tired with joy, Arthur ased Grace whether, lie need waft any longer, Gfaceaked her father, and the answer may bo easlyf gtfessed. PhianitaxmaJ or the) Walker., Nine cots Witi excelsior mattremses, stand belleath the tents it the dide ol the (rack, Weston and Rowell sleep ill rooms at th< eastern (end of tile Garden. (Thyon rests in Ite I'iulm H Iouse, icar ithe Forth avenue entrance. All the other walkern sluep in their tents. The liois of unconi. siousness tare few. Up to midnight hier. ritt ha(d 1s1leIt oinly sCCI hours since the opening of the tournament. ''lhey e n hardly be (alled hours o' rest. hle weary pedestriain is sponged or has a bath. lie piteles in his cot. Ile is wrapped In hih blankets. The lights in his tent are extin. guished. lie closes his eyes'and eiters' i1 world of phantoms. The cheers of th crowd, the musie of the band, the clapping of hands, the miurmur of a vast hive of bees, and the tread of many feet flit through his sleep. Iil body is racked with pain. There is an appalling heat in his feet. iHis templet; throb. The blood becometCs stag. naut and frequently nightmare follows. The dreamer is still on the track. Itl sees his competitors passing him one by one, and is unable to increase his own speed. O'Leary says that during his walk for the belt in London lie never went to sleep with. out the shadow of Vaughn before him. It would follow him aromiA a phantom track with looks of exultation in its eyes. At times It would bar his way. It would stand facing him alt the curves, making grimaces and contortions. Up to the mo ment of walking Vaugi's shade never left lia sleep. Gnyon has a similar experience. On Wednesday night lie slept the sleep of the damned. The pain in his feet was no intense that it had turned his stomach. Weston was ever before him. When he turned In Merritt had passed him and taken second place. Weston wits doing splendid work, and rapidly overhauling him. A ghostly Weston pursued him In his dreams. Whichever way he turned Weston was at his heels. Nor was Weston the only phan ton. The dials assumed the faces of the other contestants, and taunted him as he passed. A spirit Krohne fifty feet high was walking over him. Although lie was in the Putnam Ilouse, far removed from sight or sound of the garden, he Iheard the murmur of the crowd, the roar of brass in struments, the tread of a thousand feet, and peals of laughter. When he awoke toward morning he found a tumbler beneath his pillow. The pillow was drenehed. He was unable to account for It until he re membered that in his dreams lie had a spirited contest with Weston. The dreams of the pedestrian are based on the condil tion of Ilis stomach. When the stomach refuses nourishment threatening apparitions frequently appear. In one case a pedes trian fancied that lie was rolling among old logs covered with thousand-legged worms. In another case the pedestrian thought him self on the track, but unable to walk. Upon glancing at his feet lie was shocked to see that they had turned into -hickory saplhngs, and tle saplings grew with such rapidity that they raised him in the air. The agony. of these hours of unrest is in creased' when the hapless walker awakes. Ilis blood is still stagnant. There is a prickly heat upon his skin. He feels as though lie was being pricked by a million of needles. Neuralgic pains throb through his muscles. hlis joints are stiff. H is eye lids seem paralyzed. Worst of all, his feet and shinbones are numbed. Every move ment sends a thrill of pain through the body. Ho is oiled aind rubbed. A swallow of warm beef-tea, or some other decoction, puts Iin into a little glow and infuses him with a painful energy. Ile hobbles upon the track, and the noise, the lights, and the dark shadows of his competitors confuse him. The cold air strikes him unpleasant ly. le makes one lap, and the impulse to re-enter his cot Is frequently so great that lie finds it irresistible. Before coming on the track h1e lies upon his cot in a semi-un conscious state while lhe is rubbed and1( clad. lIe hardly appreciates the situation before he find(s himself upon thle track. If his shoes have been changed (durinig lisa rest, his feet feel like lumps of lead. The11 sore spots smart more than ever, and( It is wIth the greatest dinilcult~y that lie can lift his feet fromi the track, ie occasionally feels a nausea about the stomach, and his nerves are strung to the utmost tension. The snappIng of a whip, a deformed face, a wide-bruanmed lhat, or ai peculialrly-shaped bouquet excites his mind, and lie becomes in a meaaure Insane. 'Weston has a peculiar abhorrence of tobacco smoke. It probably affects his stomach. At times the sight of a p)IPe or cigar thlrows hihni inito a nervous spasm, and be becomes so excited thant lie frequently leaves the track. Tea Cuiture In A mifcl'a. It Is an established fact, that the tea plant wvill grow in the United States. Specimens were flourishing In a Charleston nursery as early as 1812, and in 1848, Junius Smith, of Greenville, S. C., made an attempt at cultivating the plant, whlich was, however, alandoned before any conclusive evidence was furnished for or against this industry becoming a profitable venture. In 1858, our Government, thiroughl the Commissioner bi Patents, imported 10,000 plants from China, whbichi soon increased to 80,000, and these wvere distributed through the Southern States. In 1862, the Department of Agri culture continued to p~ropagate lhants and furnished them to all who applIed for them, but under the prevalent belIef that so much manipulation was nceeded In the manufact umreof tile article that we could not compote wvithi the cheap labor of Asiatics, no specIal effort, was made to disseminate the plants. Iteports of the success In India now began to arrest atterition, and the Department was stimulated to secure more seed and begin the p~ropagation of the plants In earnest. In 18617, It was found that an abundance of seed could be obtained from the plant. al reaidy growing in the South. Since 1868 from 10,000 to015,000 plants were dIstribu ted e iery year until 187T0, when encouragIng assurances fromc plantelb led to still more extenslveo porations, so that 1,000,000 plants have been soent out during the last three years, and the Department, has somec 120,000 new on hand. All this has boon done with the intention of rendering the cultIvation of tea popular as Ba'doniestic product, andl with the hope that public interest would be atltiniately directed to Its cultivation as. an article of cowanneal value. One more fact has been established on undonbted tea. timony. A good quality of tea can be pro. duced here, Even with the'* inperfeci knowledge of planters as to the proper tinm< for picking and the ploper means of curing, an article has been produced which experi enced dealers pronounce very good. It hsa boen tested in Washington and other eitled with the safu result, One lady in Qolu Another lady makes an article which selh readily for $1.51) per pound, -and whicl experts pronotice stroiger and of sup-rioi Iihvor to tlhe imposted article. ''lhe reimlainiiig qInestion to be solved Is: (ai tea be grown hi this counitry as a pro. itable market crop ? The cultivation of tit plant Is ts simple ais that of the gooselierry. The plants only need to he set in rows, thoroughly tilled aid properly printed c induce a low, compact growth and abun dence of shoots. No leaves should lie picked until the fourth year trom planting, tc insure a robuist, healthy and well-estiablislhel growth so that they will endure the btriiiu of successive strikpings, for under the best conditions the. twaes aire picked Several times each year. What are these condi. tions ? in the first place, a rich, loamy soili isndispensable, anld the stiength of thI ground should be sustained tby fertilizers. The elimate must be warm, for although the planut will endure a zero chill, it thrives best where the summers. are loug, and where the temperature is never lower Ilian six or eight (legs. below freezing. The last necessary condition is abundant moist. ure. In India the rainfall is front 80 to 100 Inches per anumn, and it is doubt ful whether the leaves would form with suffi clent rapidity to mitke this crop successful in any part of ths country where the annual rainfall is less than 610 inches, and even this should be diffused pretty c(nally over the spring and Suinflh1er Imtontls. Of course where irrigation In possible Ihi rainfall IS of less importance. There is only one way of' learning whether these and other essenltial conidttions, if such there be, exist together in this country toi a degree which would insuire success. Per Iaps the Govern'nant muight, accomphish something if it would cease to rely on in direct methods of encouraging experiment, which can only be desultory and unsatis factory, and begin some persistent trials of its own on a seale of sufilcient. magnitude to settle the question conclusivoly. An appropriat ion of $25,000 would be sufliclent to purchase and stock a farm of ample size in what seems a favorable location, and it would cover all needful expenses for a series of experiments for a term of years. It would then be found what quantity of leaves an acre would yield, and what would be the cost of picking and curing. Until some satisfactory data on thette points are established, -priviate enterprise will hardly grapple with such an uncertain undertak.t.g and wait several years for results. Many acute observers have faith that, the United States will yet produce Its own ten, and better tea than is now consumed hero . tarvation lin the Arclu Seas. If to the present thne whale fishing in the Arctic Ocean has been insuccessful. Fifty one whales have been taken by the fleet, against thirty-two at the same time last year, and the whales have run large, averag ing about one hundred barrels of oil, and, say, eighty thousanid pounds of whalebone in all ; also about eleven tlousand walruses, egainst twelve thousand last year the wil .ruses making less oil than usual, as fewerfe males are killed, and a larger proportion of male walruses than li years past. Not a whale has been taken lin the !t.riit, or tite Arctic ocean, and only onte whti. has been seen, and that by the llelen Mar. Four ships and several brigs and schooners got. to the eastward and iuissed- the chance. A great many whales were seen, and more than usual were struck and lost. The Helen Mar struck fifteen and saved seven; the Pro gress five, and saved two. Not a whale has been taken by the natives of the whole coast', and the whaling party, with their rocket guns, which wintered at Plover bay got nothing. The natives onl Diomede is lands report seeing large numbers of whales going north in May and early June last, east of tha islands, and they struck over to Cape 'lThompsotn and Point 1 lope, wvhere the na tives took flve (onto one-hundred-barrel whale-one of about forty barrels, andit three amall ones, wvithont whalebone). Tlhere is more ice, and further south this year, titan usual. Ships havejbeen in 61.40, and re cently four or flyve ships were thirty-five miiles east of Catpc Lisbuirne, stopped by ice Capt. Tomi Williams startedi some days ago with his little steamer, the Bouquet, to reach WVahnwrightt inlet, Point Belcher or Point Barrow, if possible; ho willl trace the shore atroundl ; his steamuer draws only three and a half feet of water, and can steam one hun bredl mIles a (lay. rTe tradIng-vessels have about six thousand pounds of whalebone and a small quanity of ivory compared with former years. About half the flect are in the West ; the other half are all over to Cape Scege and West wvalrusing, de stroying them by thte thousand ; about elevent thousand have been taken, and thirty or forty thtouisand destroyed thIs year. An other year, or perhaps two years, wvill finish them; thtere will hardly be one left, and I adivise all natural history societies and mu scums to get a spechnfen while they ctan. Fuilly one-third of the p)opulation south of St. Lawrence bay perish the past winter for want of food, and half thte natives of St. Lawrence islandl dlied; oneo village of twvo hundred Inhabitants all (11ed excepting one man. Miothers took thteir starving chIldren to the butrying-groundls, strllpped the clotht ig front teir little emaciated bodies, and thon strangled them or let theo intenso cold end their miscry. It Is hteartrendrig to hear thtem tell how thtey suflered. Capt. Cogan has taken very fewv walruses, lhe says that for every oneo hutndred walruses taken a famIly is starved, and I concur. in his opliion. The season, or rather the Iee, does-not look favorable to the success of the Bennett expedition, for they can not pene trate the pack with that or any othter steam er, as it Is now packed by the -constant strong south winds; biut before long the wvhole ice-pack may be pushed north or (last. Venxtilating liedroomsa. A simple device is wIthin the reach of every one having ant ordinary windowv In his room, by whIch fresh outer aIr can be admitted in small quantity with such an utpward current as will prevent its being felt as an Injurious draft by tho inmates. It Is particularly adapted to sleeping rootms Iwhen thte weather is too cold to admit of an opent window. Thus, start bo~h top and bottom sashes of the window half an. Inch, which is not quite enough to clear the re bate or stop-beads at the top and bottom, but which leaves an opening of an inch be tween the meelingra s, through which a cittrat enters, but devrtdd upward by ahc glae as it should be1 io as not to fall dir. eetly tthe floor, as Its .Coolnes uigl otow s nd o t9 do.. e giu b i Ilurricanes inot Forida. On approach of autumn the Floridian quakes with apprehension. It is the dread ed season of hurricanes. Tearing through the West Indies, they often strike the coast i with deadly effect. With scarcely a note I of warning houses are overthrown, sail - I boats blown frot the water, and orange groves swept bare of leaves and fruit. Some of the old settlers say that they can 1 detect signs of the storm a day before it breaks upon them. "You feel it in the air long before it comes," says one. This is, I however, an indefinite sign.--The devast ation linging its track certainly proves that "you feel It In the air when t comes.'' N One of these typhoons visits the coast every yeae.-The day may be bright and beauti- I ful, and the flowers heavy with bees and i huminung birds. The mudhens of the mar- c shes pipe an alarm. Not a blade of salt grass moves. The blue sky grows hazy, 1 anld the eastern horizon Is milky white, I Fitful gusts begin to ripple the water and g handle the green leaves. A low moan ( comes from the ocean. Smoky clouds roll t Into the sky front the southeast, and a f strong wind whitens the ruilled water. Every minute it increases in fury. An omi- e nous yellow light tinges the atmosphere. C The sun is gone, and, great drops of rain i I are hurled to the ground. Within fifteen < minutes there is a gale, and soont the full V force of the hurricane Is felt. Great engles g and pelicans are swept through the heavens I utterly powerless. Sparrows and other t small birds are lashed to (ICath by lentless I twigs, and the torn bodies of snowy herons i and wild turkeys lodge in the branches of i lit- live oak and cypress trees. All living % things disappear.--alh pines are ti wisted , asunder. Th little limbs Of Willows and g oleanders snap like cow-whips. Lofty a palmettoes bend their heads to the ground, their great fais turned inside out like 111 t( ribs of an unibrella. I lc forec of the wind C keeps the irees Iown uitil every green fan 8 pop8 like a pistol-shot. Orange gmroves aret N ripped into shoe-strings. The leaves of the (1 scraggy scrub on the beach are wiped out, anid their stems whipped into little brush- t es. Tho tough saw palmetto is blown as 1 flat as a northern wheat flehl, and the dead a gr-ass of the savannas lashed into fine (lust. 1) Boards in the surf are struck by wind, and g sent spinning hundreds of feet into the air. The sand dunes are caught up bodIily, ande silted through pine trees miles away. The ci foam of the sea is blown beneath the houses ti on the main land, and conies tp between y the cracks of the floor like steam. These hurricanes last from seven to eight hours even longer.-During the lulls rain falls in torrents. The tide rises to a great height, h carrying away wharves aid boat houses, f and flooding the low country for miles. b The ocean leaps the sandy barriers of the b coast, and floods the Indian and other salt il water rivers. involving great tlaaiige. After a the storm centre-boards and jib stays arc A found in spruce pines, oleanders atre loaded hp with cordage, atnd dead eyes and peak- t blocks drop from lealless orange trees. e Gar(lens are destroyed, fetces swept away, t and the tormented Floridian has tlhree 1 luonth's work and no pay to repair dam- o ages. - Userul PlIantts.i0 Often ias a lake or stream been dragged 01 and Cannon fired over the water to cattse a m dead body to rise that lacy quietly on shore. (I Just so it is with many who are constantly I buying patent medicines at high prices, ii when they could get, the saitme tIing at their ti own doors alost To cotnence just here. s Not tenm paces. from my door grows tle v plantain, a univertsal companion of Lhat) tiller ti of the soil, usutally destroyed as a meait a weed, which It Is, but "give the devil his e due," its they say, and let, us take out o I this plant what we cant. If a shoe hits c rubbed a foot (and It often happens vith us poor clodhoppars,) Just slip a lean fresh i lantttaini leaf betwecen the sore place atd the r leather and thent think of this. Lay the v plants on a hot stove unttil wilted and lay I them as a pottltice, oan a sore ot- lammatua- a tioni and~ It will give relIef. Not faf off Is p1 the detestatble .Jamestown with Its showy, y trumnpet shape flower, into which the sphtinx e tobacco bird, (delits to poke Its long pro- a boscis ini thec shade of thme evenintg. ilr-ulso ei its leaves andt pourt a little whisky on them, y str-ain it andl yott have a wvash foi- t-ubbed s shouldcers or back of a horse, antd tto other s wash can excel in the wauy of healinig. VTe s seed of It fried in lard and the grease used( ( as atn application for the piles will give re- ri lief equal to anything thant catt he botught. f, Thme burdlock and tnettle both abomInations f' to thte husbanidman, have their good qual- y ties. Thte roots will make .a tea that will y purify thte blood, anid putt a stop to the big- ii gest ntest of boils ever hatchIng on a mnan's dI body. The tea Is bitter aid not picasant to dI take, but this is thte ease with tnearly all hi medicine. The leaves of the common la privet are a sure cure for sore mouths, u simplly by chewing thte leaves atid lettinag a ltcm rest oan thme sore ini the nmouth, and Is Ii not half as nasty as a chow~ of tobacco. If p tIl Is not otn the grounds, a pilece of poacht ' leaf will bm often quite, a relief. "soaa."a Soda water Ia sImply car-bonic-acid gas soaked Iin water. - Theo cat-honic-acid gas Is obtainied by pourinag sulphitric acid over marble chIps or dust. VTe gas is passed through water several times to free It from all tirace of thte sulphuric acid and is thenat lipumpe into a strong steel receptacle, In wic~h I a pure water. 'Te sotta fountaiti Isa genermally an elaborate marbule affair, costing from $50 to $5,000. Generally a soda fountain it a drug store will pay the remit ofa tho store atleast, and sometImes mutch more. Fountains are fed from onec draught tubo andI five sirups to six ttubes and twenty-two sit-tps. At some places thecy have pure fruit ailus, and( at others-they say they have. TIho first patent for soda water was taken out In England In 1807, yet the soda. fountain it all Its glory Is only to be seen in Amerlea. In this country there Is at leastI $12,000,000 htivested in soda-water mamit factories, fountaimns, Oe., and yet you can get a drink for 5 cents. 'rTe ta-Ij! used to be 10 cents, amid then a young man wIth a party of ladles dreaded thte sIght of a foun tain or the sountd of its sizzle, bitt hard tlimest had the same effect on soda as on every thing else. If theo pt-le were further low ered to 8 dents there is little dloubt but a great increase of consumption and profit 3 'wouldreu. -M.. e eaumouar, the pre-fshohent of I the geogr-aphicall s~oelet-y of Geonevi piolpons thluttigitude, [istead of be-. I Inatgi-eckone fthrot Greenwich, Pais, *4 Kerr'o Qir Wasin~toi, Ba at presentL, I .sljail he reckoned Ironi an 1i)1ttui IfOril dhnpssingth-ou h ehA! s tfr W 'I begrenfoth A er A) a Osler Wllows. To grow osters successfully a deep, rich 'oil is indispensable. The ground should L1SO bo moist and low, but not too wet. l'he deep, moist black lands are good, but he "made lands" are the best. What I nean by made lands are lands made by oil deposited by changes in the flow of treams or rivers. These soils are the nat tral home of the willow. The land should )e broken as deep as possible (say. ten nehes), as late in thu fill as the weather vill permit, and also thoroughly harrowed iefore freezing commences. Planting hould commence as soon as the frost is out f the ground and while the ground is still ,cry soft. The slips shou( be ready pre ared. They should be about ten inches ng; tied up in bundles, with the buds all ie way, and either set Im shallow water, overed with earth, or placed in the cellar ntil needed. In plantig I think It best to ave a long cord and stretch it across the lat, pushing the willow slips into the ound alongside the cord. In this wiy lie rows are made perfectly straight. Af 'r planting one row move the cord three act and plant the next row. This can be one quickly by having one person at, each nd of the cord to move the pegs and( stretch hIe cord. The rows will he three feet part at every point, and it will be straight nough to admit of easy cultivation. It ,ill be necessary in puslhing the slips in the round to have a thick leather pad for the and, and no slips shoul be use( except lose that are h1ic enough to be shioved ilo the ground without bending (and break. Ig. The slips should be set about ten wihes apart in rows. Closer planting -ould not hurt, but they are eisler culti ated when at. this distance apart, and will et thick enough in a few years. As soon a tile buds Com III ience starting, and the round gets dry enough, cultivation ought ) commence with hoc and citiivator. ThIs ultivation'siould he repeated through lime .nsoin often enough to keep down the eeds and keep the grouid In a good con ition for the slips to grow. The slips will robably grow about I hree to fIve feet high ie first season. Some willow-growers cut icmn off in the winter of the first, year, so t to secure straight shools the next season. I ut I think the best 1)1plan IS to let them I row two seasons before citting, as the mots will be stronger anl the third year's I rop (Which ought to be the first market t rop) will be better. Bk'sides, if not cut ie first winter afler phmiting, tile second I mar's cultivation will be greatly lessened. 'lie first cutting (tho second Iwinter after lanting) is of little market value, and ight as well be thrown aside, or what Is I etter, the best of it might be cut into ships >r- planting more land. The cutting can t c :Ione at any time from the 1st of Decen Ur until the buds start in tie spriln ; and icy should be cut while the allow is off so 1 o cut as close to the ground as possible. . long hawk-bill knife, made for the pur osc, is the best to cut with. After cltting, e up1) in bundles an(d put into Rhocks, in rder to keep the 1111 from the buts until icy are hauled to the ditlh. 'T'lho ditches 1iould be made convenlient to a spring r small running brook, so as to lead the -ater from the spring or brook into them. 'he ditches should be made perfectly level in the bottom, and should be no deeper ian necessary to hol about three inchesof 'ater. There should be forks or stakes riven into the ground on botlh sides of the itch, opposite to each other, and about ve feet apart. Poles shoul( extend across ic ditch lrom each fork to the one oppo te, about four feet from the ground. The 'illow bundles shouki be set in bet ween lese poles as thick as they canl be placed, id care should be taken that the buts are ven, or some of them will be out of water. the ditch Is wide, there should also be ross slats to keep the bundles from falling ver in cse of wind. The object in hav- I mg the ditches so shallow is so that the I iots that wvill colme oult as the sial rises 'ill be at the very en~ds of thle cuttings. the water is dleeper, the roots wvilI COmelO ult necar the surfalce of thle water, and1( thalt a~r, of the willow below the roots 1 'ould be hard to pcel. Th'le peeling should onmenICeC a18 soon1 as thle budls pult forth, uid be p)ersistedl in faithfully until all are oneC, which should1( be in a month or six I 'eeks at thle farthlest. Th'le willows iould be placed In the sun as s1 oon as po0s ble after peeling. If it is a rainy (lay >rcadl thiem thin until thle sun comles out. ino (lay's sunt will generally be suflcient, If' ot packed In too large quantities for soe sw days after. Be sure they are dIry be )re bulking, or they will lose thecir bright 'hite color, and1( wIll also lose greatly In alue. Never let them get wvet after peel ig, or they will turn black, unmless immefl intely dried. After they are thloroulghly ried, tie them up1 inl seventy-five to one uindred pound1( bu~idles for sippil~ng or aniling to market. Th'ie profit (depends pon how cheaply youl got thle work done, ad upon the demands of thle market. Good mnds ouight to produce five thloisandl oundls of marketable willows per acre. 'hley are now werthi about four cents per ound1(. Thley oughlt to 1)0 put on thle mar et at a cost of two cents, withl good man gemient, whlich w ouIld leave a net profit of 100 per acre. Our Rloin. Our robin lIves our of dloors, bult he Is so unfe that he enters thle hous15 at all tImes ad seasons. When Hlenny's duties keep or at home robin showi himself a most evoted hlusband: ho carres her plentIful upplies of oatcake crumbs, butter, bIts of andle, and other delicacies of .the same ind. And whlen he has to cater for thme ttle ones as well, he is really to be pitled; ebusy isalie that he0 neglects lisa toilet early altogether, and we have to be satis ed with hlurried scraps of song. Ho- gets uite fearless In his anxiety for his family, ud will join us at breakfast and hlp him elf to buttered toast wihout the slIghtest esitation or invItatIon. It is no use to reak off a pIce for robin; his way Is to op onl the plato and pIck off for hImself hlat lie considers the daInty bIts. I hlave, nown him to como In five tImes duiring reakfast. At night, a window Is left open hat lhe may'como in for crumbs when he leases. Should all the windows bo shut, obin hias a ver pretty~"Open Sesame'" 0 slts on the window-sill and sings loutlya (obscdy can resist that appeal, as 110 knows romi experience. And when 11 lihes to ;ot out, he has a very effectual widy of nautaging that point, too, by littefinig oroh toom to room, uttorng a little m. nod '"0 o, hick I" And as 9u k heato inlO a ait for'im 'eo q bs th6)~i~Oa one. .Jj FOOD FOR THOU rIT. iIamana lif'e 1a everywliere a stttt In whilch t-.ich Is to be endkired. 11.ver'y child walks Into existeone through tle golent gate of love. A Iopeless Ipersoli Is one vho desortii Ignioranceo lts no light ; urrs)r followi a false one. A tine cot. Iaay cover a fool, bat neer coniceals one0. There Is no grIoflike t,4e grief wItich dIoes riot leilk. He who blackens others does not whitent himself. Genius 1s sonetimesarrogant; know leilge ais always dillident. We are ti1e*ver so proud snld so h-iti LIe as when we-arc praised. Ire only enjoys 111 passion Who e.in imiake no u14e or Is, rotton. The pleasure Q1 doing good Is 1lie on ly pjleasure that never wgcar out. 1urtely half the world must be blind ley. can see nothling utilss it gIl ters. Ifi a daitice Is short of ome fiailts, hie ily Old niot knyw how to acqire Virtie p.trdons the wicked, as the anlal tree peitriues tile axe that itrikes it, To be in love Is nothing cse but to ove more whit we loved beforo we 6vere in love. IetavOi's gaits aire wide enough to tuin it, v1ry sier 1in the tIiLverse Who s pen itent.. Caltani iiy atid detraction are but, parks, which, if you (10 not blow them, vill go ot, of' thelmselves. -The wealthy miser .lives as a poor n,n1 here; but, he Imust give account is a rich man it the day of Jidgment. How contaiglotts Is the laugh of some )(ople, how Jarring that of' others, l1ke )l1y'ig onl a worn out plitilo. Whiat is style'l timirlity Is probably iothing bt, the fear of '8howilig too tait Iturit.. A good con sttint;on is IlikIe a money mox-its full vait e0 liever knowni till I, is broken. Good tnete is the iodcsty' of the mind hat Is why it nnlot he either i imiitated >r acquired. . . lin general, there i 1. one with whom Ito drags so (i-Igreceably as with him v ho tries to. wake It shorter. You cannot dream. yosirself into at arneter; You itust hammer aAnd orge yourself one. The heitit that is soonest awake to lie flowers is always,. ,he flirst to be otcled by the t.horis. The aid les to H[eaven ire- few and hort mad the gloraiots end will como If the, shoe of it amonarch could do its aiiuclh as tie monaren himself, the court vould be divided betwoen hIs manjesty iti hIs Shoe. WIthout a belIef in prrsonal Iutimotr ItL1113 religionl surey is like att arch estlaig oil on1e pillar, like a bridge end log in ani abyss. Tho sweat of one's brow Is no longer Cirso when one works for God; it ir1oyes a tonile for ,Ow system and is .etully3 a blessingt. Charity Ltward the weaknesses (of ual atirb is at virtue whIleh lwe do mind li others, bul, wh lhi we illd very itrd to practice ourselvt'es. Memory tand hope fire set like stars thove th4lie soil-ile one shining (1im1y briouIgh the twilight of the past, the >thier liglhing the urch wiy of the fu to re. We can elsily muaialge if we will only Ak , ceh da1y, the ourdent appolited or it. But the loed will be too heaivy. or us it we a-Jdto 10Its weIgh t thbo bur en of' to-miorrow before we arie called "3 0 bear It. ie thait will put time and eteruity .I 'elor'e himi, and wvho will dlare to look ttadfaly 1on01 both of themia, will find ha the mloret o1f0en he contemiplates hiem the formier w ill grow gr'eater amta lie LIa(ttir less. A yotting oflleer thought to puzzle an >ider one by lakinig him wheat two nion of equal age and ran k miet, which' holid be I ho firast to bow. Tile elder i|anly rep~hlull, "' Tn'e mioire polite of' he two." Wanat of' aroods is ealsily replaired ; po. 'erty of 80ou1 ia irreparable. Socrates, coing a great. qutana ity of richeos,Jewels ? Lt~id tlinaittIle.of great yalule Carried in )OmpII through ihe city : "blow miany hings,'' said lhe, "(10 1 not desire ?" Alen ay as well expect to grow tronger by always sitttng. as wviser by lways reaidin g. Tioo much overohar es3 nattatre, and tuarns more itnto disease han nourilshmet, It is thought yhtleh is metal digestioni, vhich maikes ooks servlpeable, and gIves health and~ rigor to the m)ind. . God led thie Israelites to and fro, for--V yard anod backwarth, as in a maze- or' atbyrtnth; and yet they wvere all the vhile tinder the direction of the pillar . >f' cloud. Hie led them~ about, and yet Ji io ted them by a rilght way. His -wa. ni bringing his people herie is alwayw~. ~ he best, though af l ibt ho the aaa Thou hmast a double -nature. o~j >etweeni the worse and thte better tfa s wIthIn thee. Thou ihast it in t~ oewer to beco 'ne the' 'slave of paits's ', he slave of luxutry, the shlave of mali pleasure, the 'slave ol! eorrutI~r l'hlola hatst it inl thy power to ou'' ~he fr'ea master of tivself, to bq he everlasing beneofaktdr'of thg#6ht~ 'ry, and the unfalhi' ohitenplon~i ~I IabiAs the depes$ la oluu fat i' rt 'le our greatest lsr'rtth :5Kl rentesv weakness. " Itdka seizoh sent advantages and- blessIngs; ap thiat a..oimes fkort hentvenagenusji' t0ut to g'ow lan gracb kilu' iniO ion sud in the kildIlxdge of )r It can putt l(4:st awkgy no Akt the kne vi i4~f habits str6fol~ Is added to tkihhe l ohange; q9l4r uver it 4' I