family ©ink HIMMELAN GEHT UNSER- BAHN, HEBREWS XIII. 14. From the German. Heavenward still our pathway tends, Here on earth we are but strangers, Till our road in Canaan ends, Through this wilderness of dangers; Here we but as pilgrims rove,. ! For our home is there above. Heavenward still, my soul, ascend 1 Thou art one of heaven’s creations; Barth can ne'er give aim or end Fit to fill thy aspirations; _ And a heaven-enlightened mind Ever turns, its source to find. Heavenward still God calls to me, In His Word so loudly speaking; Glimpses in that Word I see Of the home I’m ever seeking; And while that my steps defends,. Still to heaven my track ascends. Heavenward still my thoughts arise, When He. to His board invites me; Then my spirit upward flies, Such a ray from heaven lights me: When on earth this food has ceased, Comes the Lamb’s own marriage feast. Heavenward still my spirit wends, That fair land by faith exploring; Heavenward still my heart ascends, Sun and moon and stars outsoaring; Their faint rays in vain would try, With the light of heaven to vie. Heavenward still, when life shall close, Death to my true home shall guide me Then, triumphant o’er my woes, Lasting bliss shall God provide me. Christ himself the way has led; Joyful in His steps I tread. Still then heavenward! heavenward still I That shall be my-watchword ever; Heaven’s delights my heart shall fill, And from vain illusions sever. Heavenward stjll my thoughts shall run, Till the gate of heaven I’ve won. [Hiss Cox, 1841. Tr. Schmolk, 1731.] THE CLOUDED INTELLECT. BY THE AUTHOR OF ‘ 1 STUDIES FOR STORIES. ( Continued .) The rain came down all that' night and the next day. On the third day' she went again to the old fisherman’s; cottage, and found the old chintz cur-; tain drawn across the window in token of mourning. A neighbor came out of the next cottage and told her that the old man had died that morning at daybreak, and that his daughter had; walked over to a village some miles inland to tell her brother and bis wife. " Was the old man sensible to the last ?” asked the lady. "As sensible as yon are now, ma’am and often seemed to me to be praying; Would yon like to see Matt, ma’am ?, he is in my house.” "Yes, I wish to see him. What does he know about his great-grand father ?” " Why, ma’am, when his aunt woke him and dressed him this morning, she told that he would not see his grandfather any more, for that God had sent to fetch him.” " He was not frightened, I hope?” " 0 no, ma’am—pleased, wonderful ly pleased, and said he wanted to go too. ' He is a very strange child.” "Very strange indeed! hut in some respects, I wish more were like him.” When Matt saw his friend, it remind ed him of the great news about his grandfather; and he told her that God had sent for him, adding, “ Matt wants to go too.” “Matt shall go some day,” she ans wered, soothingly. “ Matt wants to go now,” replied the hoy. - His friend took him out on to the sands, and sat down with him. She tried to explain that some day God would certainly send for him; for she could only convey to him the notion ,of change of place, not of death. When' Matt was once convinced that’ he should he sent for some day, he was Very urgent to know what day; and when, after a great deal of trouble, his friend made him understand that she did not know what day, but that it might he any day, he sat long silent on the sand as if pondering, and then got up and began to move towards the cottage. “ What does Matt want ?” asked his friend. The boy looked at his hands, and replied, with calm and touching sim plicity, "Matt must have his hands washed.” Why ? the lady wondered why; but she said nothing, she only rose and followed him. He had found the woman of the house when she en tered, the mother of Becca, and was explaining to her that his hands must be washed, that God would send for Matt some day, perhaps it would be that day, and that Matt must be ready. The woman no sooner understood what he meant than she sat down, threw her apron over her head, and be gan to cry bitterly; but little Becca was willing to indulge the boy’s fancy; she, accordingly, fetched some water and some soap, and carefully washed his'hands. But that done, he yet stood still, as if expecting something more, - till she had asked him what he wanted; then he answered, with a kind of glad but solemn expectancy, “Matt must have-his new cap on —Matt wants his fur cap oh.” “ Mo, Matt must not have his best cap,” answered the child, " except on Sundays to go to church in.” But Matt entreated in his piteous way, till at last the lady begged that his new hat might be fetched; and when it appeared he was contented, and went, gently out at the door, and looked up between the clouds, softly repeating that God would send for Matt some day; perhaps it would, be to-day, and Matt must be ready— Matt must always be ready. “ His pooh aunt should have man aged better,” said Becea’s mother, who had followed them out of doors; she might have known if she said God had sent for his. grandfather that Matt would, take her exactly at her .. word. Howsoever, it’s no use trying to ex plain it to him ; and least of all trying to-make out that it was not that but something different. The boy must not be contradicted, that would only confuse him more ; but,” she added, “it does seem a gloomy thing that be should always be expecting his death and always keeping himself Teady for iti” ■ x ' : -■■■ — : '- Dobs it : seem a gloomy thing?” asked the lady. " Why, yes, ma’am, ; I’m sure it would quite mope me to be so frequent ly thinking about, death.” “ Notifyou felt that you were ready and were always desirous to keep yourself ready.” " Bat why should one, ma’am,” answered the woman “ so long before the time ?” “ Ah, Mrs. Letts, we cannot tell that! it is long before the time. Are we not told, ‘ Be ye also ready, for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of Man cometh ?’ ” . . “Yes, ma’am; and Mr. Green a very little time ago preachedfca; dis course on that text, a very beautiful one it was; but I never thought peo ple had to get ready for death just as they get ready for paying, their rent, or, as one may say, to lay up wood to be ready for the winter.” “Why not? must we not all die,as surely as we must pay our rent ? Is not death as certain to come as winter ?” - "Yes, sure, ma’am.” " Then the only difference m our preparing should be, that death being more important than those other things which you mentioned, we should prepare for it much more ear nestly, seriously, and constantly., . “ Yes,, ma’am, that’s, what I, meant. We should prepare at proper solemn times, on Sundays, when we have time to think of these solemn things, and not to be mixing‘it up with bur work every day.” . ' : ■ “ Mrs.' Letts, if you had earned no money as yet to pay your rent, and •knew it must be paid, on a certain day, should you say to; yourself, ‘ This is a very serums matter ; I ,must not think; of- it now that I am busy with my work, I must wait till I have a quiet •hour; for it is a very important thing, and not to be thought of excepting at particular times ?” ' • “Why, no, ma’am; of course I should think of it early and -late! Well, ma’am, perhaps you are right; in, short, lam sure you are:. buffet is not very easy for poor . folks to think about religion and death, as much as those who have nothing to do. How ever, poor Matt has few enough things to think about, and if it pleases him to think- of being fetched to a better world, why, let him do it.” “O yes, let him do it,” replied Matt’s friend; " I believe be is ready whenever it may. please the Almighty to summon him; and'the time .may not be so long that he will become impa tient.” “I’m sure a long life,is not to be desired by him, observed the woman; ‘ for he suffers h great deal in cold weather.” So saying, she brought the boy into her cottage, and the lady took her leave. The sun was shining pleasantly across the level sands as she walked homewards, and each cliff cast a clear reflection of its figure at her feet; the soft and shining waves broke gently on the shoreand the sky was peace ful and cloudless, only a flock of white gulls were wheeling about in it, serving thus to increase its resemblance to its “twin deep,” the blue sea, that was adorned, not far from the horizon, with a fleet of small fishing vessels, whose white sails were lovely in the sunshine. The lady walked till she came to a large cave in the cliff, about half a mile from the poor old fisherman’s cottage: here she had -sometimes sat with Matt, teaching him his plaiting; and here she now'entered and sat down to rest after her long walk. : It was a strange place; more a cleft in the rock than an ordinary cave, for it narrowed up above to a mere crack, which crack was strangely and beau tilully festooned with hanging ferns of the brightest green; for they were constantly kept moist by the drops of waiter that filtered through the stone. The sun was now low enough to shine into'the dark cavern and make it warm and cheerful, and to show with clear distinctness the limpets.that stuck to the. rocks which here and there pro truded from', the soft sand, which floored it, and the little pools of sea water that lay about in stony basins. These basins were rugged, and cover ed with green weeds, and - within fringed with red and brown dulse and sea-weeds, and the tiny little fish were impatiently swimming about in them, and small crabs of the hermit tribe were dragging their bright shell houses along the slippery margins. She sat' down beside one of these little rocky reservoirs and enjoyed the sunshine and shelter, thinking, mean while, how she could further help and teach .the poor child who had now so large a share of her sympathy. She decided that it was as well he should THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, AUGUST 3, 1860. be out of the way of bis relations on the day of the funeral, both for their sake and bis own.; and she according ly resolved to ascertain when it was to take place, and bring him there to sit with her till it should be over. Accordingly, she made her appear ance at the cottage on the morning of the funeral, and took away the boy. She found him still " ready,” still prepared and expectant, still occupied with the belief that God would fetch him, and that perhaps it might be " to day.” She took him to , the cave, that he might not see the mournful cavalcade proceed from the cottage-door; and when he wAs tired of plaiting straw and of looking at the little imprisoned fishes swimming about in their brown basins of rock, she opened her basket and gave. him > a nice dinner, such as she knew he would like. Matt was-very happy; and when he had done eating, he sat basking at the entrance of the cavern; pleased with watching the numerous rock pigeons that flew about among the cliffs and rushed past with their opalized wings and glossy necks, to peck at the seed corn which his friend threw out to them, . * He hadjgnade her wash his hands when he mad finished bis .meal, ; and he had’put on bis'cap,* Mi llest ’cap, and was sitting ready. ’ln spite of all his amusement in watching the blue pigeons, he was stiil ready, still con scious of an expected, summons; and when the last grain 01 corn had been carried up to the young birds in the nests, and all, the sand w;as imprinted with the feet of the pretty parents, he withdrew his eyes from the place where they had fluttered and striven, and fixed them once more on the open heavens.- “ Is Matt sorry that his grandfather is gone ?” asked his friend. Matt answered, “ No;;” and said he wanted to go too; and then-in his im perfect way, partly in words and part ly- by signs, be inquired what kind of a place it was where God lives. ; . "It was never cold,” she replied; always warm ' And pleasant; Matt; would never cry when be got there.” 1 “ Would nobody beat Matt there?” asked’the child, wistfully ; " wouldn’t Rob beat him ?” >■- l-g " No; when Matt went to be with God, nobody wpuld beathim . any more.” A gleam of joy stole, over the boy’s: face as he sat pondering' oyer these, good tidings; then with a sorrowful sigh he said, “ Rob often beats Matt now.” But at that moment soft sound of a tolling bell was heardjia 1 the cave, and he turned his heaUR) listen. It was the bell : for his grand father’s funeral; and it was touching to see him amused and pleased with it, unconscious what it portended. . They stayed a long time in the 'cave; the boy being amused and di verted by the various things bis friend: found for Mm to look at, and by a grotto that sbe made for him with loose scollop shells,; but in the midst of his pleasure that gleam of jop would often return to his face, and. he would .exnltingly. repeat that " some day he should go to God, and nobody should beat him any more.” At last, when the sound of the bell had lon£ ceased, and the ‘ sun was shining full in at the jmouth of the cavern, his friend. took him home again;- and finding the mourners al ready returned, left him with them, and took her leave—little' thinking as she walked across the [clifls to her re sidence, that in this life she was to be hold Mm no more. Did a holy life consist of one or two noble deeds-—some signal speci mens of doing, or enduring, or' suffer ing—ye might account for the 4(£Lure, and reckon it small dishonor to turn back in such a conflict. But a holy life is made up of a multitude of small things. It is -the little things of the hour, and not the great things of the age, that fill up a life like that of Paul and John, like- that of Rutherford, or Brainerd, or Martyn.- Little words, not eloquent speeches or sermons; lit tle deeds, not miracles, nohbattles, nor one great heroic act or mighty martyr dom, make up the true Christian life. The little constant sunbeam, not the lightning; the waters Of Siloah, "that go softly” in their meek mission of re freshment, not “ the waters of the river great and many,” rushing down in torrent noise and force, are the true symbols of a holy life. The avoid ance of little evils, little.sins, little in consistencies, little weaknesses, little follies, little indiscretions and impru dences, little foibles, little indulgen ces of self and of the flesh, little acts of indolence or indecision, or sloven liness or cowardice, little equivocal tions or aberrations from high integ rity, little touches of shabbiness and meanness, little bits of covetousness and penuriousness, little exhibitions of worldliness and gayety, little indif ferences to the feelings or wishes of others, little outbreaks of temper, or, -crossness, or selfishness, or vanity the avoidance of such, little things as* these goes for to make up at least the negative beauty of a holy life. And then attention to the little duties of the day and hour, in public transactions', or private dealings, or family arrange ments ; to little words, and tones; [To be Continued.'] CHRISTIAN LIFE. little benevolences, or forbearances, or tendernesses; little self-denials, and self-restraints, and self-forgetfulnesses; little plans of quiet kindness add thoughtful consideration for others; to punctuality, and method, and-true aim in the ordering of each day—these are ,the active developments of a holy life, the rich and divine mosaics of which it is composed; - What makes yon green hill look so beautiful ? Not the outstanding peak or stately elm, but the bright sward which clothes its slopes, composed of; innumerable blades of slender grass. It is of small things that' a great life is made up ; and'he; who will; acknowledge no life as great save that wMch is built up of great'things, will find little in Bible characters to admire or copy.— Sonar. - TIIE FOOLISH 'YOUNG CHICKEN. ' There was a round pond, and a pretty pond too; _ - - About it white daises and butterflies grew, And dark weeping willows, that stooped to the - ground. Dipped in their long branches, and shaded it round. . A party of ducks to this pond would repair, And feast on the green water-weeds that grew there; ’ " “ Indeed, the Assembly would frequently meet To talk over .affairs in this pleasant retreat. One day. a young chicken, who lived there, about, Stood watching to see the ducks pass in and out; .. .... .4, Now standing tall upward, now diving below. She thought of all things she should like to do so. ■ So this foolish chicken began to declare, “ I’ve really a great mind to venture in there; My mother’s oft told me, I must not go nigh, But really, for my part, I cannot tell why. "Ducks have feathers and wings, and so have I too, And mv feet—what’s the reason they will not do? Though my beak is pointed, and their beaks are round, - Is that any reason that I should be drowned ? “ So why should not I swim as well as a duck? Suppose that I venture, and even try my luck; For,” said she, spite all that her mother -baa taught her, , “ I’m really remarkably fond ol the water.” So in this poor ignorant animal flew, And found tlfat her dear mother’s cautions • : were true; : : ' ' She splashed, and she dashed, and-she turned herself round And- heartily wished herself safe on the ground. But how ’twas too late t'o begin to repent, The harder she struggled, the deeper she went; Andyvhen every-.effort she vainly had tried, She slowly sank down to the bottomland died. The ducks, I perceived began loudly to quack, When they.saw the'poor fowl-floating dead on - • her back, And by their grave.looks it was very apparent, They discoursed onThe sin of not minding a pa • ‘ rent. ' •- ■■■ ' - - THREE LESSONS FKOM THE CIBCCMSTASrCES ~OF KB. While we make all possible allow ances tor the early education of Mr. Lincoln, while we remember His need, of relaxation, and the duties he consid ered himself asowing to the populace ; when we regard the fact that Chris tfftfis, who should have set him a better example, were accustomed to freqi&nt the same place, and it is supposed, to urge his presence; even then we must say we consider the attendance of the President of the United- States at the theatre a sad mistake / That, had its moral influence and the evil of the ex ample been pointed out to' him, that noble, honest, 1 benevolent naan would not have yielded to any urgency, or in vitation to attend that place He -was an uncompromising temperance man, fdT his own sake, and the benefit of others. And the same principle, and cheerful obedience of duty, which made him that, would, if properly presented, have led him to abjure the theatre. Would that all our government officers might think of these things, and give their influence upon the side of morality, the public benefit, and right. Brorn the sad place where the Presi dent was assassinated, we learn-that we can never approve ourselves, if voluntarily found in those places, where death cannot appropriately find us. No man knows when, or where, or how death may meet him. He should frequent no place, engage in no amusement or business, be found with no companions, which should cause Him a blush, or wring his heart with a regret, or leave his 'friends to mourn that he died, there, or so engaged, or with such company. Again, we cannot too scrupulously inspect the conduct "and characters' of men with- whom we associate—espec ially strangers; There seems often times, on the part of youth of both sexes, to be an idea that it is'a desirable thing to be acquainted with-persons who have seen much of the world, without enquiring which part, of it they have , seen, or with what motives. Those, too, who are conspicuously before .the pub lic, ho matter in what character, are i sought after by the weak.' The inex perience of youth is easily flattered by a few words, or a little notice from strangers,- whom they suppose to be well posted in - matters respecting the manners of society, and "the ways of the world and before men of studied deceit, ana ripe experience in crime, principles become corrupted; integrity ceases, and virtue falls. , If all our youth would seek for companions who have more of native modesty, and know less of the world, it would be a blessing to their persons, souls and Estates. The world is full of men and women who have travelled too much; have seen too-much of the world, and know too much to be either safe com- ; panions, or truly good citizens. .. . Again, we see from what class of men come some of the great crimes of our country Prodigality, intemperance and lewdness are generally considered and found to be' concomitants of the stage. The whole business of the stage is the practice of hypocrisy. It is one continual assumption of characters, dissimilar eaeh to the other, and, from his own who plays. To-day be acts the saint, and to-morrow the villain, with equal earnestness, and with a desire to produce equal impression. His exhibition of virtue is but a simu lation ; his presentation of vice ofttimes is set forth con amove. It. was in this school of hypocrisy and vice that he was trained, who hath dared to lay his impious , and deadly hand upon the Lord’s anointed. Any place would be dreadful, wherein such a deed of horror had been committed; but the words of Mrs. Lincoln, that “ dreadful house” meant more; and they speak that sad regret which is' felt by every true patriot, and especially, Christian heart. That we copld wish that our noble martyr had met his death in almost any other place than a theatre —by almost any. hand rather than that of a depraved actor. This is a drop peculiar in our groat cup of grief.-— Rev. F. Starr, Jr., St.. Louis. LILY S- . Rev. Mr. Hammond has shown us the Photograph of a Child Christian now one of the “millions of infant minds" who “compose the family above,” together with a letter from her mother, which last-is so like what the mother of a such a child should say, and so expressive of how she should feel, that we cannot, unwarrantable as as the- liberty may seem, forbear k> allow our readers to share with us its perusal. Rev. Mb. Hammond —My Dear Sir:— Among the most faithful and interested of the children attending upon your services while in this were my only daughter'and son, Lily and Charlie S— i You were so kind as to write to Charlie, on the 19th,of last October, to which he responded on the 31st of the same month.. Each of the children had written you a note just before you left 8., and it is to ask you to return Lily’s to me, (if you still have it, and are quite willing,) that I now- address you. This dear little child en tered into her rest on the 17th of last April. At S. o’clock, A. M., “ she passed through Glory’s gate, and walked in Paradise.” - Dur ing a painful illness of seven, .weeks, she evi denced unwaveringfaithin oiirpear Redeemer, and entire submission to the will of her Heav enly Father. After excruciating Suffering, .shewould say, “God will repay me for all this { if I hve, I shall be happier in this world, and if I die, the rest of heaven will be sweeter tome.” “I am not atbit afraid to die; I am ready at any time.” .When asked if she was willing to wait God’s time, and suffer on, she gently said; “ Thy will be done.” Not being old .enough to reason on religious sub jects, not a doubt clouded her mind. She simply accepted Christ as" her complete Saviour, and loved Him so truly, that she longed “ to be with Him where He is,” and “feared no evil.” A little more than two years before you came to our city,, Lily gave unmistakable ev idence to me, that the Holy. Spirit had be gun His blessed work id heir heart Finding her-weeping bitterly after listening to you the first time, ! said, “ Why is this; darling ? Do you not think you are Jesus’ little child any longer?” “Oh! yes/mama, but I can’t help crying because I have not loved Him more.” And she never ceased to- love you, my dear sir, and to feel that through your teachings she had been brought nearer to Christ. I praise God, the covenant keeping God, for the pleasant memories of her lovely life and triumphant death: but every me mento of her is precious, and her written tes timony of trust in Jesus would be very dear to me now. If then, you have her little letter written when she was eight years old,‘l shal feel grateful to you for its return. May you ever prosperin the noblest of all efforts, that of bringing souls to Christ, is the prayer of your friend. There were also forwarded, with thB above, somd||uies, written, on the. even ing after Lily’s translation, to which we also give place. She has gone to rest in the early spring, That fair young bud of ours, As pure and lovely and innocent, As its early opening flowers. We.we'ep as we bend o’er her pale, still form, But for ourselves the grief, ’ % jf- For «s the loss’ of that fair, young life*, So beautiful—yet so brief. Not for her, who, while hoveringyeton earth, Looked.through the gates of Heaven, * Longmg to join that bright young throng, To whom the kingdom’s given. The home she has left so sad and drear, Is consecrated how; Christ has bCten here, and set his seal Upon that lovely brow. Bring, then, those pale and silent flowers, . And lay them on her bier ; The. Lily, too—her emblem fair — May rest in beauty here. And let soft music swell the air, • To bear our thoughts above; ’T is .fitting that our fairest gifts . Should typify our love. But oh! for strength like hers to bear; For grace to*kiss the rod, breaking hearts to say, Thy will be mine, ”-O God! “ GOD IS BY ME,” Little Moses was seven years .old. The hand , ofGod was heavy upon him, and his mother, wishing to know if he still had his reason, bent over him and asked who' was by him. In alow, sweet voice, Moses said, “God is by me.”.” His mother turned to a friend, who did not understand his re ply, saying, “ I think he said, ' God is in a stronger voice, and with emphasis, Moses said, “I did say so, mother, for God is.by me.”- So, little children, if you love Jesus, he will be by you. He loves you more tenderly, and will care for you" more gently than does your own dear loving mother.. He will take you safely in fos arms to heaven.— dmeneem Mes senger. . ; PRAYING FOR RAIN. The followingis old, but the temper which it shows up holds as fresh as when it was thus satirized. We heard, a dozen'men complain i When Wednesday it began to rain; Just as before, when it was dry, They mourned a drought with many a sigh, And seemed most strangely to forget That water generally is"wet! ; If all men’s prayers were heard together, The world would have the'queerest Weather. “ My mill stands still!—O for some rain!” “My grain is down ! —Ye dbuds,_refrain!” “ My corn is parched Susan’s froh- net, ' . - Don’t let a dropiof water.on.it-!”-. "“ 0, nottd-daypdur walking!6.but!” - - “Roll up ye clouds, I go for trout!” “The hen’s come off, the brood is drowned t” “ Ah, let it pour I myTibat's aground !” So, mid the murmurs ofthe world. The cloud, like banners, are unfurled; The rains descend, the bow is bent, The sky smiles clear, God’s azure tent ; Sweet springs and robins sing together, And, rain or shine, ’tis pleasant weather ; The sower’s hopeful seed is flung, And harvest songs are always sung. Nobody sends as many apples to market as my neighbor John Jacobs. He always has apples to sell, and gets tbe highest prices. Folks prefer large apples; and such are always packed in Jacobs’ barrels. You might search them with a candle, and not find .a knotty fruit or a worm hole. Such Rhode Island Greenings and Roxbury Russetts I have never met within the old Spates. They are as handsome as anything in the virgin soil of the West. I was. going to Jacobs’ orchard last summer, and I had the curiosity to call and examine for myself. ‘ Says I, “Neighbor, what is there in your soil that makes such smooth, large apples ? They are a third bigger than anything I can get, and my trees look as well as yours.” ■, June 14th, 1865. “ The secret is not in the soil,” John replied, with a twinkle in the eye, “ hut on it. Ho you see those grunfers there ? My pork brings me fifty cents a pound—eight in flesh, and. the bal ance in fruit. I began to pasture my orchard ten years ago With hogs, and since that time I-have had no trouble with wormy fruit. Apples as a gene ral thing, don’t fall from the tree un less something is the matter with them. Apple-worm and curculio lay their eggs in the fruit, and the apples drop early. The pigs devour the apples, and by September every unsound ap ple is gone and. I have nothing but fair fruit left. ’ The crop of insects for the next year is devored by the pigs. They root around, under the trees, keep the soil loose, manure the land some, and work* over what I spread. The apples help the pigs, and the pigs help the apples.” I saw John’s secret at once, and have profited by it. I never bad so few insects as. this spring, and I have given the pigs credit for it. In turn ing the orchard into a pasture, put in pigs—not landpikes, with snouts like levers. You might lose trees as well as insects in that case. But well bred animals, with judicious snouts, will root in a subdued and proper manner. —American Agriculturist. At this season of the year a cool draught of water is a luxury which we may enjoy with a little care. By the following method, simple and in expensive, water may be kept almost as cool as ice. Let the jar, pitcher, or vessel, used for water,"be surrounded with one or more folds of coarse cotton, to be constantly wet; the evaporation of the water will carry off the heat from the inside, and reduce it to a low temperature. In India and other tropical countries, where ice cannot be procured, this expedient is com mon. Let every 'mechanic and laborer have at the place of their work two pitchers thus provided, and with lids or covers, one to contain fresh water evaporation, and he can always have a supply of cold water in warm weather. Any person may test this Dy dipPPbi£ a finger in water and holding it in the air on a warm day; and after doing this three or "four times, he will find his finger uncom fortably cold. This plan will save the bill of ice, besides being more healthful. The free ‘use of ice water often produces derangement of the in ternal organs, which, we conceive, is due to a property of the water inde pendent of its coldness.— Maine Far mer. M.E. M. Lime Water for: Correcting Acids in Dough-, etc.— When bread Decomes sour by, standing too long lefore baking, instead of using soda I use lime water. Two or three table spopnfuls will entirely sweeten a bateh of rising sufficient for four of five large oaves. • i slack a small piece of lime, take the skim of the top, and bottle the clear water, and it is ready for use.. A bottle full will last all summer.— Exchange. ■ ' How to Catch Hawes and Owls, —Erect in the middle of your field a ong pole. Set a steel trap upon the top, and the unwary hawk and owl will light directly in the trap. By this means hundreds may be taken in one season. , . ftraal irioittmig. HOGS IN THE APPLE ORCHARD. COOL WATER.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers