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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.