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VOLUME 6?NjQ. 8. ABBEVILLE C. 1L, SOUTH CAROLINA, FRIDAY MORNING, JULY 2, 1858. . W1I0LE NUMBER269,
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DAVIS <fc CREWS, t
for linnnrr ; .
LEE <fc "WILSON, 1
For J'rvK*. !
MISCELLANY. t
Thn Tnrv Prparhor anH Vrtiinor
OR, CIIUHCII DISCIPLINE IS OLDEN TIMES, i |
It was a warm, sultry day in August, one
of those quiet, happy days when even the j
grass hopper and butterfly seem weary of i
play, and take an afternoon nap under some !
green leaf, or enjoy their golden dreams in !
the fragrant cup of some summer flower. !
Tho high road is truvol-worn and dusty, j
nuu VVVI v oiiiuL* rtliu UU3U Xjy HJU waysiue |
seems weary of the beat, and drooping be- |
neatb tbo weight of dust. Naught looks
cool, save the dark woods in the dtstancc, f
and the weary psdestrain longs to turn aside, (
cross tbc little rustic bridge which spans
the brook, aind rest awhile under those wide- i
spread elms, which stand like sentinels at
the entrance of the wood. But the cares of '
life call bim away, and be must plod on i
amid the toil and duet Arwl s
this world, until the evening brings its dark- 1
ne&sand rest. 6
Mot far from those trees, at the end of a 1
green lane, stands Father Morris' cottage. 4
it is plastered and whitewashed upon the 1
outBide. The fragrant hop, with its luxu- 1
rions foliage and light green blossoms, has (
covered the gable end of the house, and '
?i ?
?%ujuibiuuoijr laiiuiwu vj mo very rooi, While 1
the little door yard in front is filled with
flowers and vines. They look as if tended ^
by some more tasteful hand than that of 1
Father Morris, who has spent a great part '
of his life in the camp and bailie field. Ay,
there is the little fairy who presides over 1
the garden. She has just wheeled her !
grandfather's arm chair under the shade of 1
the grapery, and is now seating herself on a
etool by bis 6ide. How carelessly she 1
brushes those rich brown curls from her 1
forehead, and how coaxiDgly she looks up 1
into the old gentleman's face. I
"Now, grand pa, I've done spinning, and
pat all things in order; grand roa is asleep i
in the bedroom, and Aunt Sally has gone 1
to tfie Sewing Society ; now wont you tell 1
me a story of old times ?" <
Father Morris sat leaning upon his large
Ivorg-headed cane, bis white hair so long 1
tfiat it Almost touched his itboulders, and
bis mild blue eye full of quiet enjoyment, as
he gazed upon this pet of bis old age?bis.
favorite grand-daugLter. He patted her
on the head, and was about to com- i
ply with her request, when the found of the
village bell was beard, and its slow, monotonous
tones told of (Mptl). A lace stopped?
smile passed from her countenance?and
turning her b&d in the direction whence
Uie sounds came, sbe raised tier'fore finger ]
towAtd her grtnd-fatber, as if to My, ' don't
epesk'" and commenced counting the strokes <
of the be(i. It wtu a Iong time she 'thus i
stood, while the old gentleman, who was 1
deaf, sat watching her countenance at ten- I
Wy- fmwi to,W?d* bin*, at length, i
the bell tolled, be knew for whom it rung ?
those sad notes, and his heart was now bus^
with tho past. Memories of other days, ol
days when the blood circulated Bwiflly
through his youthful limbs, and be could
boast of health, strength and vigor?scenes
of strife and tumult, battle Gelds and couti
v.. VW.M..UWIC) V? vj nun J iuoisiuu, auu IllUU'
pendence achieved. All iheso were connected
with thoughts of his friend, who had
just passed from earth. What a depository
of relics must an old man's heart he! Not
buried Pompeii or llerculaucum prcseut
more subjects of thought than one human
heart, could wo look beneath the lava, rubbish
and dust with which years and intercourse
with the world have covered it. The
crust is often deep and hard to be penetrated,
but now and then an opening is made,
and we have a glance at the depths beneath.
It was thus now with Father Morris, and
tho wise man, had he been there, and looked
at the shuttered hopes, which, like beautiful
ruins, were scattered over that life, and
at the stranded wrecks upon the shore,
would have exclaimed anew: "All is vanity
aud vexation of spirit." 13ut poor Alice
thought only of losing her story. Seeing
the mood of her grandfather, 6he sat down
by his side, and leaned her head upon his
knee. Tho trembling hand was by the
power of habit involuntarily laid upon it;
but tho touch recalled his wandering
o
thoughts, ami he said :
"I must follow soon, Ally. My old companions-in-arms
are almost all dead. My
armor is worn and rusty, and I must soon
lay it aside; but I will not disturb your
young heart with sad thoughts. Go bring
my pipe, and I will tell a story of old times,
but it shall bo about this same Major Saf"urd?I
can think of no one else this after10011."
"i a railier Jicar about something else,"
bought Alice, but she never thwarted her
fraud father's wishes.
So lighting: his pipe from the embers of
lie kitchen fire, sho returned with her Uniting
work, and resumed her scat.
' You see, Ally," 6aid the old man, after
aking a few whiff* from his pipe, and
knocking the ashes therefrom, holding it in
lis hanJ a moment, and glancing at his
mug little cottage and garden, which rustled
unid tlie shrub-bery like a bird's nest in the
jreen leaves of a tree, "You see, Ally, maters
were not always as pleasant and pcaee"ul
as now. In the early settlement of Yernont,
there were stirring times amid these
jreen hills, find it was pot without many a
jloodv frav and fierce battle that, wa soiil^
lown so quietly under "our own vine and
ig tree," as the minister says iu Lis parysr.
"You had to fight the Indians, I suppose,"
3aid Ally. >
,,r?en times worse than "that, dear child ;
>ve had to fight the York lories. I cannot
ixpiam it ali to you, for its a long story,
md would puzzle your littlo head ; but to
nake it Ehort, ye see, tho folks over tho Hudson
thought they had a claim to the is
bis side, and they sent out to Eng' .. tnd
>btained, as they said, royal authoiuy to
bo claim. Then they sent officers here
vith narfthmnnt rnlln nn<l nom.ro
- g MUM |#H|#VIU waiicu
leeds, and threatened to turn us out of our
lomes, and from tbo lands we bad with bo
nucli labor cleared.
"Well, the Oreen Mountain boys, with
Ethan Allen at their head, determined to
resist, and you know, for you - have often
iieard mo tell, how they fought.
ul5'it speaking of those times reminds
me of what I meant to tell you when I bo un,
that is a sort of love story, in which
.he Mnjor and myself were interested."
At these words, Alice dropped her knit,ing
work, though it was not in the seam
needle, and looked up with much interest?
In which you were interested, did you say,
grandpa?"
?V/?o y.l.II-1 ...i? T > ? ?
- vunu, ttiicu i was young ana looiisb,
and easily taken with a pretty face;
ind the love part would not be worth repeating
now only as connected with the
jourage of the Major."
4,Oh, tell the whole, grandpa. I don't
like half stories."
"Well, well, don't interrupt me, and I
will proceed. I said tb\p courage of the
>ld major. It requires some courage to
:nter a battle field, and stand there as a
mark to be shot at by the enemy, and fee)
that your body may be food for carrion ;
but to defy the minister in his pulpit, with
ill his church to back him, requires more
Hill."
"I thought it was a lore story,* grand"Have
patience, child, and 111.come to
he point at last. Wall, you aaa, our minster
was a tory, and though he didn't ?ay
to in platn wotnh, I've no doubt btit he beieved
in tlia divine right of kings. At any
ate. iie bad a great deal to say about iba
beings ordafnad of God*.
104 ba?lway? p?ayad fcropr law fu I sovarM*
li ^ r 1 iru. -i'
Nriamigbt bfttrtrf?n<t ityfli
3ttt Safford *Ms a staanoh Republican fcfa/J
r^wfoflgw
?pl*? **&*??. daEggtt
?eir tip * ta'cyrial^Otth'tj between tm pfc
f
' son and the young man, and when the forf
mer, with all his dignity and dignities, viz:
' powdered wig, threo cornere<l hat, and silI
vered buckles, walked tlio streets, SaflTord
never bowed, but walked straight along, as
it' he scorned ubcdicnce to one who would
bend the knew to an earthly king. But ho
J still continued to go to meeting, and would
j sit as patiently through the long sermons
| and loyal prayers, as good old Deacon Burr
! himself. The truth was, this same Deacon
, j had one daughter, and a prettier girl than
, Polly Burr never entered a village church ;
i or, I might say, graced a palace. She had
a roguish black eye, anJ her hair curled
J naturally; you never saw it in paper, oven
in tho morning; and then sho was so noat
and trim in her gingham short gown and
while petticoat, and at meeting sho looked
pretty enough to make a young man's heart
ache.
"She was the hello of tho village, and at
quillings, and paring bees, aud dances, she
was the life of the conipafty. I had long
had my eyes upon her as tho choice of my
heart, but thero were so tnany that went to
SCO hf>r nn Snnilnu ovnniri/rc il ""> >
, J 1/1.1.
seldom that I could find a chanco to speak
with Iter. But was industrious and prudent,
saving all that I could earn, that I might
have a pleasant home to offer. Tlio Deacon,
too, favored me, and seeing I was of a
steady turn of mind, often invited mo to his
house. Hut young Safford, it seems, all unbeknown
to tho Deacon, loved her also ;
but he was such a wild, bold youth, and
moreover, so at sword's point with the min!
istor, that lie never dared reveal his feelings,
j save by sundry little attentions, noticed only
by Polly herself Now it happened that
the Deacon had, with great labor, cleared a
patch and planted it with corn. It was
; growing finely on the new, rich land, and
| the young ears were already formed, and
j promised a fine harvest, but for several suc|
cessive Sundays, there was great destruction
in me corn nekl. In vain he made scarecrows
and set traps, and even put one of bis
old coats on a pole, a siglit that would
frighten the worst boy io the village, for lie
was tbe tithing raan, that terror of rogues.
But the next Sunday the mischief was repealed,
till the patience of the old gentleman
was nearly worn out. But he belonged
to a church remarkable for the rigidity
of its tenets and the strictness of its discipline
; to have permitted any one to stay at
home to watch a cornfield would have been
considered a heinous offence.
"I declare," said the old deacon one Sunday
after sundown , "we shall lose all our
corn, unless we catch those rascally thieves.
Who knows but they are Indians?"
As he spoke he accidentally looked at
Polly. She sat in the corner of the rrraat
_ O
oak settle which stood before the fire, watching
the puffing steam from tho tea kettle,
and looking somewhat sad.
"Why, Polly," said tho deacon, with more
animation than usual, "among all the rest of
my troubles lately, I Lave been bothered by
two or three young men who want you for a
wife. I have a mind to say that whoevei
will shoot or take prisoner the thief who
steals my corn, shall havo you for a wife."
Polly looked up in surprise at this novel
mode of disposing of her hand ; but the
next instant there was a roguish twinkle in
her black eye, and turning to her father she
said gaily, "A bargain, if you please."
ouo knew very well who would be first
upon the field, and whose courage and perseverance
would be the most likely to bold
out the longest.
"But will you keep your promise, father!"
"I wouldn't have it said that the deacon
of the church ever told a lie ; so I say it
now?whoever will shoot or take priconer
the thief, shall havo Polly Burr for bis
wife."
This conversation was overheard by tho
hired boy, and soon circulated through tho
village. Great was the commotion among
the young men of tho place. As for myself,
I rodo far and near; I examinod the corn
field by night, and devised every means in
my power to ascertain the offender. In
deed, one whole night I watched behind
the stnmp of an old tree. But there was
no avail.
But the very next Sunday, when Parson
Goodman was saying, "the ninth bead of
my.discourse,'n the congregation were startled
by the report of agun.
There was a general rising, and great
commotion among the- women. Our
thought wits of Indians or Tories. Thire'
was a rush for the door, a tumbling over
children and a sorwraiog of , their pwth-.
Ml \ ' 1
But what; our, fltfrprjM, wh#n fib#
landed upon {tie gtfen, to see young Saf""^'h"
b"et
'?v?yw W wpwftfl?! UM
M<r last.
Late wHh
I Lint, Jeptba like, ho had made a rush
vow.
Tho minister was the first to break silenoo.
Ilis indignation nt being disturbed iu his
discourse, and bis anger at such an open
violation of holy time, were at the boiling
point, lie exclaimed in his loudest tones :
"Young man, who are you, that you should
disturb the worship of the sanctuary ? Kn^w
you not that you are breaking tho laws-of
I God and man ? Constable Chanmati. nr.
_ -J y ...
rest this man and hold him prisoner until
further disposal can bo mado of his person
1"
Poor Safiord was thunderstruck ; he had
intended no harm, but in his eagerness to
display his prize, and supposing service over,
ho had hastened towards the village. It
had not oncc oecured to him that he was a
church member, and as such liable to ccnsure.
IIo knew that it was wrong to absent
himself from meeting, but he thought the
ofFcnco would be pardoned, because of the
benefit cotifered. Seeing ho was about to
betaken prisoner, he at first resisted, but
recollecting that he was in the hands of a
legal officer, ho thought best to submit
quietly. His confinement, however, was
~i i ?i 1? ?
oiiimi, iiuu ituuiucr mode ot punishment
proposed.
During the week r? church meeting was
called, and young Saftord cited to appear
thereat, and give reasons why ho should not
be excommunicated from church for his
high-handed wickedness. The deacon was
present, but PuIIy was nowhere to ho seen.
When her father proposod so summarily to
dispose of her hand, her first thought was
of Safford, and knowing his hold and daring
spirit, she felt suro that ho would win.
Poor girl! She little thought of such a sad
4: _.r ?i - n* mi i
I ici uiiioiiuii ui mo imair. io oe excommunicated
from churcli was, in tlie eyes of
llint little community, a most grievous infliction.
Such unfortunates were considered
as losing caste, and were ranked among
pagans and infidels.
Safi'ord pleaded liis own causo with all
the eloquence he could command. In vain
did he contend that it was lawful to do good
on tho Sabbath day ; lie spoke before judges
determined to condemn.
lie was accordingly condemned to bo
present on me next Sabbath, when the sentence
would be read. In the meantime the
lovers had an interview. Poor Polly could
do littlo else but weep. Her father said
nothing, but lookod stern and displeased.
M13ut you say, Lfolly," repeated Safford,
"that if I am not cxcommuniuated, your father
will consent?"
"He cannot help doing so," she answered;
"but ho thinks the Bible condemns
church members marrying non-professors,
and would not dare to give his consent to
our marrage if they turn you out of the
cliurcli."
"Uut I tell you I am not gctiqg to leave
tho chnrch; .that tory minister will find
that ho canoot manage ma so easily."
"But it is already decided," 6aid Polly ;
"the papers are already made out, and tomorrow
it will be read."
* "They will no^read it, trust me, Polly
and thus they parted.
Sunday came, and with it the whole con-*4'-"
,nl * * " '
fj.vgouuii i*j luccimy. i ne wuoie, dul 1
say ? All except young Safford. But when
the afternoon service was about half over,
he entered, his gun loaded with a bruce of
halls, his sword and cartridge box on his
side, and his knapsack on his back with six
days provisions in it. lie marched into a
corner and there took up his position. As
soon as the benediction was prouounced,
Parson Goodman began to read the excom- |
munication, but had not proceeded far when
Safford entered tho aisle in his martial array,
cocked and leveled bis pistol, exclaiming,
"Proceed, if you daro 1" "Proceed, and
you ire a dead man !n* Tho poor man,
overwhelmed with astonishment and fear,
shrunk behind bis pulpit, and handed the
paper to one of bis deacons. He, trembling
from head to foot, endeavored to obey. The
same threat was renenta^ And o/Li^
"Desist and march, or you are all dead
men ! I will not leave this bouse in shame!"
Not many minutes elapsed before the bouse
was cleared, and the daring young man Iqft
its sole occupant. He locked the door, put
tbekeysin his pocket, and sent them the
nw day, with his respect#, to the minister,
lie thus remained member of tbe church
jn "good and" regular standing," tyitil the
I -day h is death. Deacon Burr reoeived
such cfrtdeoce. of (he perseveranoe of* his
3*52' ' '."i n?- '*? /S# - ' WW?:-J
Beir-eiectca sod, inttu dared not to refuse
bi? U?e ffifnfop.
"And gramjpn, didu't you feel badly 3"
jy A--,*/ - wr'T'rJ''
, *11^% ym r
Hymn of the Seasons.
The heavenly spheres to thee, O God,
'Attuno their evening hymn ;
All-wise, all-holy, thou are praised
In song of seraphim.
Unnumbered systems, suns, and worlds
Unite to worship Thee;
While Thy iu<\jestic greatness fills
Space, time, eternity.
j.iivim i:, u ium|>ie woriuy iitee.
Beams with Tliy light ami love ;
Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below,
Whose stars rejoice above :
Whose altars are the mountain clilTs
That rit>e along the shore;
Whose anthems the sublime accord
Of storm and ocenu-ronr.
lTer song of gratitude is sung
By Spring's awakening hours
Her summer olFers at thy shrine
Its earliest, loveliest flowers :
11 or autumn brings iu golGou fruits,
In glorious luxury given ;
While Winter's silver heights rcflact
Thy brightuess baek to heaven.
1J() WRING.
Tho Hair of the Presidents.
In the Patent Office, at Washington,
there are many objects of interest connected
with the Government and those who administered
its affairs in times gone by.
While examiuing some of these objects of
curiosity, when in Washington, in Decern
ucr last, Itiere was nothing tlint struck us so I
forcibly ns the samples of small locks of hair .
taken from the heads of the different chief
magistrates, from President Washington |
down to President Pierce, secured in frame I
covered with glass. Here is, in fact, a part ;
and parcel of what constituted the living j
bodies of those illustrious individuals, whose \
names are as familiar as houso hold words j
but who now live only iu history and the !
remembrances of the past.
The hair of Washington is nearly a
pure white, fine and smooth in its appearance.
That of John Adams is nearly the same
in color, though perhaps a little coarser.
The hair of Jefferson is ol a different
character, being a mixture of white and auburn,
or a sandy brown, and ratlver coarse.
In his youth, Mr. Jefferson's hair was remarkable
for its bright color.
The hair of Madison is coarse, and of a
mixed white color.
Tlie hair of Monroe is a handsome, dark
auburn, smooth and free from any admixture
whatever. lie is the only President,
excepting Pierce, whose hair has undergone
no change in color.
The hair of John Quincy Adains i3 pccu
liar, being coarse and yellowish gray in color.
The hair of Gen. Jackson is almost a
perfect white, but coarse in it? character, as
might be supposed by those who have ex?
amined the portraits of the old hero.
The linir of Van Buren is white and
smooth in appearanee.
The hair of General Harrison is fine
white with a slight admixture of black.
The hair of John Tyler is a mixture of
white and brown.
The hair of James K. Polk is almost a
pure white.
The hair of Gen. Taylor is white, with a
slicht admixture of brown. ,
The hair of Millard Fillmore is, on the
other hand, brown, with a slight admixture
of white.
The hair of Fiaukliu Tierce is a dark
brown, of which he has a plentiful crop.
Life Illustrated.
?i*?MiDvw&tciA wauautty
Rev. G. W. Browulow, tbe eccentric but
talented editor of the Kuoxville Whiff, is in
attendnnce on the General Conference of tbe
M. E. Church ?outh, which is now in session
at Nashville, Term., and concludes one
of his letters to the Whig after this style.
It is to be hoped that Mrs. Iirownlow ib in
blissful! ignorance of the petticoat proclivities
and tender " takings on" of her amiable
ppouse. If over the " fighting preacher"
should become a widower the ladies of
Nashville may look out for breakers:
" I must, in conclusion, be permitted to
say a Tew words about the many beautiful
ladies in attendance at this Conference.?
The spring time of the year, the attractions
of Xuphville, the modes of conveyance, and
the wealth of many of the Southern Methodists,
induces them to come hero with
their wives, sisters and daughters; and added
to tho resident ladies here, I have never
seen so many beautiful, elegant and lovely
vvuiuuii loyumur uu any occasion, i liave
gazed upon tbero, as they Lave gracefully
glided by me on tbe pavement?as they 1
have ascended and descended tbe several' 1
flights of steps in tbe capitol?as tbey bave
been seatod in the galleries, and at church,
and still the wonder grew, tbat so much silk 1
and so many hoops should encircle the an- '
gelic forms of bo many beautiful women!? I
All I regret i9 that skirtdom is still expand- *
: i ii.- f.-l!? L1 .. .
ug, uuu ui? itutuiuus ia vogue are still increasing
tbo distance between man and v.o- 1
man!'' AtJtme moirient I feel like exclaim- <
ing, 4 Ob, Chat I were a'boy again 1' The ,
next moment I feel indignant at ibe hoops,
aud feel willing to join, a rogimont of good
men in a vigorous assault upon (liejattan,
whalebone, cords, brase and steel, that have {
as under wbat God bath said dught to be i
joined together I Only think of tlie display
on our aA^jp/tn the Slate capitol. atchurch
and in the parlor, of the grand, graceful and
undulating skirts, looming uj>. all aroiM
one, fascinating, charming apd amoglflg.to \
and fro, liltfaO r^any tbingi?<if VfoV; VWlc *
about 4ie grandeur of daaa aUadjer, ,<
of a train of oar* propelled j
Fallaciousness of Vegetarianism.
On surveying tTio list of uations and
tribes whose,,food is principally, or entirely.
vegetable, wo are naturally led to nsk wliat
confidence is due to that party in America
and England which proclaims Vegetarianism
to bo the proper creed for civilised man,
and vegetable fond the healthiest and suitabk-st
in every way. Many years ago I was
myself a convert to the doctrine, seduced
by llie example and euthusiasm of Shelly,
and, for six months in which I rigidly adhered
to its precepts, could find no sensible
difference except that I was able to study
immediately after dinner. It soon became
clear, however, that the arguments on which I
this doctrine rests for support would not I
withstand physiological scrutiny. It is unnecessary
to allude to sucli fautnstic arguments
as that of Ilousseau, who maintained
vegetables to bo the pioper food because we i
have two breasts like the vegetable feeders; j
an argument as worthless a^ the counter j
argument of Helvetia*, that flesh is the only
proper food, because we have the blind intestine
short, like tho flesh-feedcift. The
vegetarian theory is at variance with the
plain indications afforded by our structure,
and by the indications no less plain offorded
by our practice. The structure of our
teeth and intestinal canal points to a mixed
diet of llesh and vegetable; and although
the practice of millions may be to avoid
flesh altogether, it iscnuallv the nrncti nf
millions to eat it. In hot climates there
teems littlo or no necessity for animal food4;
in cold climates it is imperatively demanded.
In moderate climates, food is partly animal
and partly vegetable. Against instinct,
so manifested, it ia in vain to argue :
any theory of food which should run counter
to it stands self condemned. Besides
this missive evideuce we have abundant examples
in individual cases to show how necessary
animal food is for those who have to
employ imicli muscular exertion. The
French contractors and manufacturers who
were obliged to engage English navvies
and workmen, because French workmen
had not the requisite strength, at last resolved
to try the eft'ect of a more liberal
meat diet; and by giving the Frenchmen
as ample a ration of meat as that eaten by
tl.o Fn.rllcli.Wrtn ll.A.liflT. ?
? w Uiv UlMUIVilVQ ? ?ia OUU1I I C"
duced to a mere nothing. It is worth noticing
that the popular idea of one Englishman
being cijual to three I'renchmen, was
found by contractors to be tolerable accurate,
one Englishman really doing the work
of two and half men ; and M. Payen remarks
that the consumption of mutton in
England is three times as much as that in
France, to proportion to the inhabitants.
Blackwood.
Important Truths for Wives.
In domestic happiness, the wife's influence
is much grenter than her husband's ;
for the one, t:.e flrst cause?mutual love
and confidence?being granted, the whole
comfort of the household depends upon trifles
rnpro immediately undr her jurisditiou.
liy management of small sum;:, he*; husband's
respectability and eredit are created
or destroyed. No fortune can stand the
constant leakages of extravagance and mismanagement;
and more is spent in trifles
than woman would easily believe. The
one great expense, whatever it mny be, is
turned over and carefully reflected on ere
ihaiired; the income is prepared to meet
it; but it is pennies imperceptibly sliding
away which do the mischief; and tins the
wife alone can stop, for it does not come
within a man's province. There is often an
unsuspected triflo to b*e saved in every
household. It is not in economy alone
that the wife's attention is so necessary, but
in inose nine niceties wincli.mark a wellregulated
hoaso. An unfurnished cruetstand,
a missing key, a buttonless shirt, a
soiled table-cloth, a m>jstard-pot with its old
contents sticking hard and brown about it, ,
are severally nothings; but each can raiso
an angry word or cause discomfort. Depend
on it, there's a great deal of domestic
happiness in a well-dressed mutton-chop or
a tidy breakfast-table. Men grow sated df
beauty, tired of music, are often too wearie#'for
conversation, (howevbr intellectual;)
hilt th?v #>nn nlivauu nnni-o?!>.ln ?t ?i"l I -a ? ?/??.! I
J .. ..v..
hearth and smiling comfort. A woman
may loves her husbrnd devotedly?map sacrifice
fortune, friends, family, country for
him?alio may have thd geniua of a Sappho,
the enchanting beauties of an Armida;
but?melancholly fact?if with these she
fail to make ins home, comfortable, his
heart will inevitably ascapo her. And woman
live so entirely in the affections that
without love their existence is a void. Better
submit, then, to household tasks, however
repugnant they may be to your tastes,
than doom yourself to a loveless home.?
rir ? - -
woman oi uie mguer order of mind will
nob run this rick : they know th^t their
Feminine, their domestic, aro their first duties^
n . .
Excellent Rules.?Always tako - Uie
part of ait absent.persou who is censured iu
jonipany, so far as truth and propriety will
illow.
Never dispute if you cair fairly avoid it.
Nor dispute with an old m4o more than
_ . - ?* .
teveniy years.or age, nor uriUi woman,
lor with An enthosiftst. vV ^ ; . ;
. Nor affect to bo tHtty; ?> to jest;
. Say w lianas.ppafcyble of .myself and
bote wh?r?rosiK?at,me. '
k Aim at cheerfulness without' levity. *?
^evefeodrt the- faVoi- of tWridr,bpfaC
*' & Z*f
fepeat With ckfrtirtefw nn^'cotwnijerntiqn
^ all.occaaiow.; eap^ly^iWin^^ !
Mt'.wllllih (All'in ii4ltlM< .vr.v.ij./^'.lr, V.
General Directions for Preserving1.
Perhaps at the present season a few general
hints on preserving, for the use ofa
young houswife, may not bo unaoceptable'.
Several of the directions may appear noou,-"
Io83 ; but tliere may bo some experienced
persons to whom they may bo beneficial.
1. Let everything used for tl^purposo
be clean and dry; especially bottles'. , ,
2. Never placo a preserving pan^a* ,<??
lhe fire, as this will render the preserve liable
to burn to, as it is called?that is to
.^ay, to adhere closely to the tnotal, and
then to bum : it should always rest on a
trevel, or on the lower bar of the kitchen
range.
After the sugar is added to them, stir
. 4
tlio preserves gently at first, and more
! ? :?i?? :
juivaiv vvnaiu^ lUG CUU# WlLllUUL fJUllUUg*
tliem until tliey are done ; this precaution*
will prevent tlnjir being spoiled.
1. All preserves shou'.d be perfectly-clear
from the scum as it rises.
5. Fruit which is to be preserved in syrup
must first be blanched or boileJ, gently
until it is sufficiently softened to absorb
the sugar ; and a thin syrup must be pour-,;
ed on it at first, or it will shrivel instead of
remaining plump and becoming clear. Thus..
:r:? ?. . < ' . ^ ? .. -t A -
ii iuj wuigiH 01 sugar is to Da allowed,. ?td
boiled to a syrup, with.? pint of water to
the pound, only half tbe weight itiust bo
taken at first, and this must not be boiled
with the water more than fifteen or twenty
minutes at tbe commencement of the
process. A part of the remaining sugar*
must be added every lime the syrup is reboiled,
unless it should be otherwiso directed
in the recipe.
G. To preserve both the true flavor and
the color of fruit in jams and jellies, boil
them rapidly until they are well reluced, be:
fore the sugar is ad Jed, and quickly afterwards,
hut do not allow them to become
too much thickened that the sugar Will notdissolve
in them easily, and throw Upit^
scum. In some seasons tho juice is 80' rfiucli'
richer than in others that this effect takes
place almost before one is awarq of it; but
the crop which adheres " to the skimmer,".
when it is lield up, will show tho state it
has reached.
7. Never use tin, iron, or pewter spoon*'
or skimmers for preserves, as they will convert
tho color of red fruit into a dingy, purple,
and impart, besides a very unpleasant'
flavor.
8. When cheap jams or jellies are required,
make them at once with loaf sugary
but use that which is well refined, always
fur preserves in common. It is a false ecou^
omy to purchase an inferior kind,' as there
is great waste from it in the largo quantity
i/i ovum wumu il lurows up;
9. Pans of copper or bcll-metai are tie*
proper utensils for preserving fruit; "U'heri'
used tbey must be scoured l/riglit with'
snnd. Tinned pans turn and destroy tlfo
color of tlie fruit tbat is to/put in them. A'
stewpan made of iron, coated with earthenware
is very uice for preserving.
Godei/s Ladifit Boole: *
Hamilton's Gharaoter of Ma j. Andre. J
There was something singularly interesting
in the character and fortunes of Andre;'
To an excellent understanding, well improved
by education and travel, lie united a^ipcriliar
elegance of tuiBd and manners, and tbef,
advantages of a pleasing person-. 'Tis SaicT
be possessed a pretty taste for the fine arts,'
and bad himself attained some'' proficiency
in poetry,music, nnd painting. His knovwedgo'
appeared without ostentation, and'^taibelli.shed
by a diffidence that rarely accorfr-'
panies ao many talents and accomplishments,' which
left you to^s oppose more than ap-';
peared. II is sentiments were elevated, and
inspired esteem; they had. a softness that
conciliated affection. II19 '.eloauence was
handsome;' his address easy/polite, and insinuating.
By his merit, be had acauireq,
the unlimited coufideuce of bis general^ and.
was making a rapid progr?83 in riulitafy'.
rank and reputation. But in the height of *"
his career, flushed with new hopes from the
execution of a oroiect the moat beneficial, to'
his party that could he devise*^ h& wasaJt
once precipitated from the summit tif-.-jjtooifi
parity, and saw all the expectations 01 1m
ambition blasted, and himself ruioed.
The cbaraQter I have given of him ia
drawn partly from what I saw of him myself,
and partly from information.,'Iami
aware that, a man of real merit is nover (teon1
in so fnvonjJWe a light as through tbe raedT-j
tin AP arl traVtai cr I!?.? -JWW
..... u.wuo Vtinb tturruBM
htm are shades that set off -bb goo^qa\tP j
ties. Misfortune cuts down the litWVRtii- 1
ties that, in prosperous ti cries* serVe. as-*0>'
many apota in bis. virtues, ttn4>4^^?Mot>e>
pf humility that main* his wortp vacfi*
a m'nvblw. l!is apMtttota, #bo epjoy a hap*
pier lot, are less prone to detradt ffofo'it
through-envy, and .ara
compassion, lo give bim the or^U^.^4^
tin*i of gy
Ml