Bedford inquirer. (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, April 09, 1858, Image 1

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| tI pr t pot r i].
■"'MY r '? - ' -
- Wt,
When I am old—and, O how soon
Will life's swoet morning yiel 1 to noon
And noon's brna-l. fervid, earnest light
B ■ sha I 'd in the solemn night !
Tiff, like a story well nigh toll,
Will st in my life—when I ant old.
When I ui oi l, this bre zy earth
"Witi lose for me its voice of mirth—
i'lia streams will have an under one
0 sadness not by rifht their own.
And spring's sweet power in vain ucfi 11
In rcsy charms—wli-n I am old.
When I am old, I shall not care
To leek with fi overs my fi I 'd hiir ;
'Twill be no vain desire of mine
In rich and cosily dress to shine:
Bright jewels and the brightest g. 11
IVill charm m; naught—vlfcea Ia u oil .
When lam • Iff, my friends will be .
Old. and infirm, and bowed, like me;
Or else, their Ixwli • 'ne.ith the sod,
I'heir spirits dwelling safe with God,
Theold church l*ff! will long have tilled
Above the rest—when I .m i Id.
Wh.n I am old I'd rather bend
Thus sadly o'et each hurried friond,
Than see them lose the est nest truth,
That marks the friendship of our youth;
'TwiU be so ?ad to have them coll
'f)v strange to me—when I am old!
When lam old—() how it seems
Like the wild lunacy of drei as,
To picture i-i propheic rhyme
That din?- far distant, shadowy time;
So distant that i; seems o'er bold
Even to sjy-— < When I a:a zlJ.l'
When I em i l l—perhaps ere then
1 sh 1! be missed from haunts of tueti;
Perhaps my dw lling will b found
Beneath tli green ami quiet mound,
My namely stranger hands enrolled
Among the dead— ere I am old.
Ere I am <ll—that time is now,
For loullt skslighily on my brow;
.Vy limbs i;re firm, end strong, and free.
Lib has alhotisiiid charms for m-;
Charuisthat will ling their iußuence hold
IVithin my heart—ere I urn < Id.
Ere I am ol I—o let me give
Ms life t learning how to live.'
Tlutt shall I meet with willing -fi 'art
An early summons to depart,
Or find my length ned days consoled
By God's sweet peace—when [ am old.
From the American Agriculturist.
Hints on Farm Work for ipril.
Let iLc fences all ha repaired as soon aspos
eible, if any of that work is left over front
la.-t month.
Get out the manures and composts for the
spring rit J Summer crop?. In this, better
fertilize half the ground well, than go over the
wi. le with only a scant supply.
If the meadows have not been already top
dre-sed with manure for the season, they bad
Inter be postponed till after baying, as the
raw portions of the dung will remain, and be
o the way of the scythe, and wowing machine.
Besides this, the soil will be bully cut up by
the teams, and wagon, or cart wheels, doiug it
more hurt than the dung will do it good. Let
the loose stones be also picked off the mowing
lots, Had carried off altogether. Putti theui
in heaps, large or email, only gives a harbor
for mica, mote?, and other vermin intent ou
Clean up the door and wood yards of tlieir
winter litter. Put the chips under cover, if
you have any, and pile up all stray and loose
lumber. Rika and pitch together the litter of
the barnyards where it can rot down iuto muck
or compos'. "Slick up" generally, so that the
whole piciuiscs may look tidy and comforta-
Tiiis is the month to ect oat shade and fruit
'tecs. LLg large holes—"uot so big as jour
ha'," but tbrcc, four, five, or six leet to dtam
-1 ter, so as to give amplo space, and mote too—~
t; .'r the roots, which the trees uewdntve, but
for the youug fibres that will strike from them
in the Dext year or two.
-■' at in the plows for the coming crops. Plow
deep not 'while sluggards *leep only, but plow
deep always. Recollect you have a west ex
cellent firm light below the one you now oc
upy, and only, about six or eight iuoueg under
if, where the. roots of your previous crops have
seldom peuetrated. intq this uew
'iw thoroughly, say three to six ineb?; and
jjBIF - ...ofe-YY
A Weekly Paper, Devoted to Literature, Politics, tbe Arts, Sciences, Agriculture, &c., &c—Terms: Que Dollar and Fifty Cents in Advance.
let it san dayligh'. by throwing its fresh soil up j
to the sun, and the effects, alter the first year 1
or two, will surprise you. Don't mind tlie !
"hard plowing." Put on an extra team or !
iwo, or if you have not that extra team of j
yotvr own, change work with a neighbor, and
you will he well compensated in the crop;,— I
next year, if not this. Don't bo afiaid of that
j "nasty yaller clay," or that "leachy gravel,"
ior "poor, sandy stuff," if it does come up. If
not quite a* good the first year, it will bo the
second, and e<w ti you w'll have a Jeep, rich
soil a foot deep, where you only had froui two
to six inches before. When well plowed, and
the surface dry, put on the harrow, the teeth
sharp and thick, and tear it up as finely as
'Pi .nt eaily potatoes as soon as the ground
ia warm euough. L< i the peas, barley, Spring
wheat and oats be in as soon as possible. One
day of early spring growth is worth a week ot
| June or July in giving a thrifty a'a!k and well
; tilled head.
i Fix 'lie ground for corn and beans, the lat -
t r pari of the mouth, and let. it lit? up to the
?uu to thoroughly warm, so as to be ready to
plant in good season —the right time to plant
you know bet'er than we do, an we are iguo
j rant of the exact place you live, torn ought
,to come up quickly, ar.d then grow tight no,
without stopping a day till it ripens. Stunted
' corn, IK? it either by cold in the ground afivr
i planting, or frost, or drouih after it coins op,
never gels'forward like that which has no pr.ll
; backs. And in a corn country like ours,
; where we rely largely on that crop to nuke
| our meats, as well us to sell,and eat. it should
. receive the very best part of our attention.
If the apple and oth r orchard trees have
i not been pruned ail they need—and which is
; Rot much, if they have been attended to as
they ought to have been years before—take off
the useless proU and limbs of the l ist year's
growth. Cut out the broken branches, if there
be any; put crutch;s under and straighten up
the leaning" trees; throw the he id into simp;,
and let thcau go on r< j licing in the protection
of master who appreciates their vaue.
Get the tools Ui iuto order an 1 keen tlnui
When the field is plowed bring the plow in,
| ami put it under cover; so with the. harrow,
; and other to da. I lava a plate for them and
; le tiienr be in their pliee, so you c.iti put your
i hand upon them in the dark. The same with
! shovels, hoc?, axes- —indeed everything you
| Wferk with on tTfe farm, as sleds, wagons and
| carts, inclusive.
The cows are now bringing In char calves.
We have already told you how to manage
them, as well as the sheep with their lambs.
Young colts usually drop in this mouth, ami
in May. Look well to the mares about this
time. Don't work them hard for a few days
before and after dropping 'he foal. A sweat
ed mare is more injured in the way of her m Ik
for the young foul, than is almost anything
else. She may work constantly after the colt
is a week old, but the work must be uniform,
ami not hurried, ller blood must l e kept
equable, and her feed generous. Chopped
hay, or straw with meal of some kind is l est,
being easy of digestion, and producing'plenty
of. uiiifc.
Let the cows be still stabled every night un
til the weather is warm enough for lying out.
Cows are jist as liable to catch cold by expo
sure as folks are, and as their coals are now
coming off they are thinuer haired thau usual,
for a mouth or mure.
In sLort., look well fo cvcryihitsg about the
place. "Whatsoever your eye see?, or vour
hands find to do, do it with aj your might, and
in good time." "Eternal vigilance is the price
of"—success iu anything, ex'-ept a windfall of
goed fotytitle: but as we "common folks" hav<
no especial expectations in that line, we mu?i
trust to our own stout bands and willing minds
for flic achievement of what good fortune is to
attend us iit life; and, as "Aptil fool's" d.;r is
now past, we hope tho balance of the month is
going to bo appropriated to the getting t,f wis
dom and understanding, as well us the getting
in of our future crops, on which our success
f<>r the whole year is to rely. April is, per
haps, the moat important month iu the whole
T — *
EARLY PLANTS. —A very convenient
| od of starting early corn, sugar cane, cabbage,
j tomatoes, cucumbers, and indeed almost any
i kind of plants, is the following:
Take an under sod, (not too grassy,) or te
j aaeeous muck and cut it into cubes, say two
j inches ea<h way. Insert one or more seeds in
| the e< titer of each, and then pack <he pieces
; closely together and firmly down upon a box
|of earth, to be kept modciately moist. This :
j box c ut be set in the cellar on frosty days and
nights, and be carried out into the ?uu at other
times. When the seeds are up a'.A trans
planting out is admissible, take up the cubes
and transplant them to the open ground.—
This can be done without disturbing the roots,
or scarcely retarding tbe growth of tho young
Seeds of cucumbers melon?, tomatoes, &e.,
are sometimes planted in soil placed iu old or j
cheap basket?, with rather open work. These !
are iiiiug up out of the way of frost, b. ing cx- I
posed to tbe citn during the day. At the prop- :
er lime these baskets are simply imbedded in
tbe bill even with the surface, cud left there, j
Tbe roots will find their way out into the soil '
through the open work of the sides. A lew
hills thus started, with little trouble, wiil ofteu !
produce a crop some weeks iu advance of those j
I sown at first in the open ground — lb.
Pow CLOVERSEED NOW.— We have found j
no' mora successful mode of sowing clover, or '
clover and timothy upou winter grain field?,
than to choose a still moruing, when the ground j
is a little frozen, aud scatter the seed broad
cast It tails in the opeu frost cracks, ami
when thawing lakes place,-is beautifully and
uniformly covered near the surface, and is al-
most sute to germinate. % good crop of do
vt-r, thus sowed, nets pirtiy <i a mulch to th*
grain root?, fields a supply of- fall feed, and •
most admirable to be turned under wltcn km',.;
high the tr-xt vrar, as one of tbe best manures
that can be applied to any sot!.— tb.
r. T .. ■ — ' " :-A
From the novel entitled the Wetbcrby's, w*
take the following amusing account of an oil
man's second marriage. It will bo seen tha'
Mr?. Brill was a 'brick:'
Colony! Bister's unpads' Wo—lite who',;'
regiment--turned out iu full dtess to witne*-i
their eeiebradun. Even Mrs. Brill bad went
| r o the expen.-e of a white satin slip and a bou
-1 net trimmed with orange blossoms fur the occa
sion. (Brill had been appointor! brigade-ui#-
I jur of the dividotj. Tne colonel looked a how
i forty yu>rs of age. Tiie hnde was certainly a
| very pretty girl. Mj >r Green gave Iter away.
I wished Mrs. Brill had stayed at hone 1 ; fo?
her mind was always running on matters of bu-i
sines-, and she mole uo laugh iu (lie church,,
close to the altar, by saying seriously, in A
whisper, 'She'll runic nicely or. the fund, cir*
tic', as a colonel's widow, if anything happen?
to old Baxter! It's a fraud! lie ought to be
usliamed of himself! 1 wish the oi l woiur.n'.Y
ghost could walk in just now, ami woaf
was the ore cf her saving aud pinching at slu
did. Tins young woman will spend it all you
know. I should like to catch Brill making
such a fool of hitiiself, after"/'#; dead and gone,
and ducks at:d drakes of all I have scraped tos
liher. When Fm dying, I'll burn every bit
of company's paper, or tear i- into little bit.s
aud throw it into the chicken both I shall c 4
fur on purpose; and then, if Brill likes to mar
ry again, let him. It will ba quite of riumiL'
'Hush!'said I. 'The parson is looking at
- VOU \. . I
'Well, let him lo k, the pasty faced ma.;|
said Mrs. Brill. 'I think ho might have put
a clean Si t you may call it, surplus,' (she
meant surplice,) 'although it is a dirty bust -
mvs im is etigaged iu—nurryiug nit old paint
ed man to a mere child. There were wo pity
iug oid Baxter not long ago, when the oil la -
d| died; and now you sec tlicit: aio.ali tliect.A
nets envying Litu. The world is full i f 'hyjc
pa;risy art ! humbug. What can that youtiy
girl cote at tut obi thing? It L
, not in human i.aturo. 'Flo w i sto Le Mis.
Colonel Bax'cr, and have a catriugo ;.nd paii
aiid.aU Ac rest ofi .' ' v
'So long a? ye both shall live,' said :be elcr
gymaH, eoneluoing tiie vow.
'I will/ said tho colonel.
'I wili." echoed Mrs. Brill in a load whis
per. 'M i'V, I'L three-score and ten is up al
ready—so that his promissory note is overdue
before be m ikes it.'
I could contain myself r.o longer. I titur
ed aloud. My wife, who WAS leaning on ID.
arm, gave me a look expressive of extreme
distrust; but it did not reduce mj to graviiy,—
On tbe contrary, it provoked me to titter loud
ly age in.
'For richer and poorer.' When the old (Jul.
came to these words, Mrs. Brill whispered to
nie, '11.• 11 be pooret pretty soon, I warrant vou,
l Givt thee my trot/;!' she repeated after the
j colonel. 'Bring her on the fund, aud give
| her a pension! I say it's a fraud!'
'Willi this ring I thee wed,' old Baxter fee
bly repeated after the clergyman.
'W i:h this fiddlestick!' whispered Mrs. Brill
carrying on her commentary loud enough for
me to hear her. 'I have no patience with ao
old man who paiuts hischeeks, and dyes Lis
hair, and comes to church clothed in such
abominable falsehood.'
'Yea, and thou shall see thy oliildtcn's chil
dren,' said iho minister.
'Ghiidien's children, indeed! Now the very
idea/ Mrs. Brill.
"You had Letter leave the church, Robert,"
whispered my wife, 'if you cannot behave bet
Mrs. Brill heard her, and replied. 'He had
better stay where ho is. You wouldn't bsnre
him cry, would you V
"Hugh ." said I, in an agony of fear lest Mrs.
Brill should come to words with my wife, and
interrupt the ceremony.
'Spot or wrinkle, or any such thing.' When
the minister came to these words Mrs. Brill was
| very indignant.
'Spot or wrinkle!' she repeated, 'tie has fil
led up all the wrinkles with white paint and
j putty! 1 cotild pick it out with a penknife! The
old man is a waiking fraud. I've no patience
with hia ; and I will say so at tho breakfast.
Briil is on tlie staff, and can no longer Le bul
lied by any ragauiuffian of a commanding offi
My wife, when we came out of church, beg
ged at' inc not fo sit near Mrs. Biill at be
breakfast. But iff what avail was uiy promise,
since Mrs Brill was determined to sit next to
"Robert, there is room for you here/' said
my wife, when we were about to bo seated, and
she pointed to a vacant, chair. Mrs, Briil ob
served her look and said.
"Don't bo alarmed, Mrs. Wotherby. Al
though bulling they say is catching, when it
gets iuto a regiment, don't suppose I'd bo so
weak as to go off with tbe cornet, Brill on the
Sophy roared with laughter; and so did eve
ry ouo who heard Mrs. Brili's remark.
"Have you congratulated tbe colonel?" 1 in
quired of Mrs. Brill.
"No said she, "and 1 don't infond. lam not
au impostor aud hypocrite, liku some other la
dies whom I could mention." (She looked ui
my wife.) "1 always speak my feelings. An
honest man's tLo uoblest work of God—aud *o's
a woman."
I tilled Mrs. Brill's glass several times with
obauipagre, and the beverage appeared to im
prove her teuiptr. I trod upon her toe by acci
dent, end she looked blandly in my face and
I "Don't flirt with mo, cornet, before your wile.
or you'll be unking her unhappy, poor thing ;
| and she's not a bid creature, though she look?
[ a wretched dawdle, and his no more .idea ol
housekeeping than a black-brush has. It was
unfortunate that she chummed with Mrs. File
teigii, for hoi character is compromised by it,
poor-thing. Don't flirt with in •, cornet. Brill,
too, has got his bleary eyes on us."
At IG, impatient palpition towards tiia la
At 17, Blushing and confusion in conversing
with them.
At 18, Confidence in conversing with them
At 19, Angry if treated by them as a boy.
At 20; Very conscious of his own charms and
A: 21, A looking glass iu his room indispea
sitfle—to admire himself.
At 22. Insufferable puppyism.
At 23, riiinxs uo woman good enough for
At 24, Caught unawares ty the snares of
At 25, The connexion broken off, for self
conceit oil his own part.
Ar 2G, Conducts himself with much superi
ority toward.* her.
At 27, Pays his addresses to another la
dy, not without the hope of mortifying the
At 23, Mortified and frantic at being refu.
At 29, Rails against the fair sex ia gene
At 30, M nose ari l out of humor Iu ail con
versation on matrimony.
At 31, Contemplates matrimony move under
the influence <>t ids inter est than formerly.
At 32, Considers pus-ma.] beauty iu a wife
not so indi-pens ib e as formerly.
At 33, Hiili maintain* a Ugh opiuiou of his
own a-, tractions as a hush and.
At 31, Consequently has jo idea but he may
still at ir*y a "chicken."
Ai 35, Fulls deeply and violently iu love
with one o{ seventeen,
j At 3fJ, Another refusal,
j At 37, Indulges ij every kind of dissipa
i tien.
i At 38, Shuns the best part of the female
. ■ r - ■** *
At 30, Suffers much remorse and mortifica
tion on so doing.
At 40, A fresh budding of matrimoaial
ideas—no spring shoots.
At 41, A very nice young widow perplexes
At 42, Ventures to uidres- her with miwed
sensation,.of luvc and it.ti n'?t.
At 43, ititci-st prevails, wtiieh causes much
cautious refl eii"u.
j At 41, The widow jilts him, being as aau
tious as himself.
At 43, Becomes every day mote averse to
-the fai'- s< x.
At 4(3, Gouty and nervous symptoms begin
to appear.
At 17. Fears what may become of him when
old and infirm.
At 43, Thinks living "alose ' quite irk
j At 49, Resolves to have a very prudent
'young' woman as Lions;keeper and compan
At 50, Nervous affectation about him, and
fnqnent atfajks of the gout.
At 51, Much pleased with his own bouse,
i keeper us a nurse.
j At 52, Begins to feet'soma' attachment to
j he;*.
At 53, His pride revolts at the idea of mar
j ryinq her.
At 54, I* in very great distress how to net.
At 55, Completely under bor influence and
! miserable.
I At SG, Many painful thoughts about purt
j ing with her.
At 57, She refuses to live any longer with
him solo.
At 58, Gouty, nervous and biliious to ex
-0 £3.
At, 59, Falls very ill, sends for her to his
bedside, and intends espousing her.
At 60, Grows iapidly worse, has his will
made iu her favor, and makes his exit. —Punch.
The following touching fragment of a letter
| from a dyif.g wife to her husband, was found
by him some months after her death, between
the leaves of a religious volume, which she
was very fond of perusiug. The letter was
svrittcn long before bet husband was aware
that the grasp of a fatal disease had fastened
upon the lovely form of his wife, who died at
the early ago of nineteen:
"When this shall reath your eye, dear
George, some day when you are turning over
the relics of the pufct, 1 sisall have passed
away forever, and the cold white stone will he
keeping its lonely watch over the lips you have
so often pressed, and the sod will be growing
green that shall hide forever from your sight
the dust of one who has often nestled close to
your warm heart. For many long and sleep
less liight®, when all besides my thoughts were
I at rest, I have wrestled with a consciousness
| of approaching death, until at l<st it basfurui
| itself upon my mind; and although to you, to
I others, it might now seem hot. the nervous ima
ginings of a girl, yet, de.r George, it is sol-
Many weary hours have I passed in the eu
deuVor to reconcile myself to leave you, whop)
1 love so well, and this blight world of sun
shine and beauty; and hard indeed it is to
struggle on sil ntly aud alone with tire sure
conviction that I urn about to leave all forever
aud go down iiito tho dark' valley! "Bull
know in whom I have believed," and leaning
on liis aru, "I fear no evil,"
Do not blame me for keeping even all this
from you. How coahi I subject you, of ali
others, to such a sorrow as I feel at parting,
when time will soon make it apparent to you?
I could have wished to live if only to be at
your side when your time ahull come, and pil
lowing your head upon iny breast, wipe the
death damps from your brow, and u;her yoar
departing spirit into the Maker's presence, em
balmed in woman's holiest prayer. But it is
cot to be—and 1 submit. Yours is the.privi
lege of watching, through lung and dreary
nights, for the spirit's final flight, and of trans
furring my sinking head from your breast to
my Savior's bosom. And you shall share my
lust thought, and the last faint pressure of my
hand, and the last feeble ki-s shall bo yours,
and even when flash and heart shall have fail
ed me, my eyes spall rest on yours until gla
zed by death; and oar .spirits shall koid one
U-t communion, uuti; gently fading from my
view—the last of eartn—you shall mingle
with the first bright glimpses of the uufadmg
glories ot the better world, where partings are
unknown. \\ ell do 1 know the spot, uiy dear
George, where you null lay me; often we stood
by the pi me, and as we watched (He mellow
SUB SET, as it glanced in quivering Sashes thro'
the leaves, and burnished the grassy mounds
around ns with the stripes of burnished gold,
each has thought that some day ©tie of is
would come uioiif, aud whichever it might be,
your name would bo on the stone. Hut we
loVevLthe spot, and I kunw you will love it
use less when y©u see the same quiet
su W*' fcr 3 p'ay among the grass that
gross over your Mary a grave, i know you
wilt go there, and my spirit will be with ycu
then, aud whimper among the waving branches
—"i am not last, but gone before."
In the Patent Office at Washington, then*
are many objects oi iutcrests, connected with
the government m<u iho.e who administered
its affairs in tunes gene by. While examining
scene 0, these objects of curiosity , when in
VV ashingror> in December last, there wasuotu
iog that struck us so forcible as the samples,
'<f small locks if hair, takcu from the heads of
different chief from Washington
down to Pierce, secured in a frame covered
with glass. Here is in fact a parcel of what
once constituted the living body of those illus
trious individuals whose names are as familiar
as household words, but who nose lire only io
history aud remembrance of the past.
The hair of Washington is nearly a pure
white, fine and smooth in appearance.
That of John Adams i, nearly the same in
cob r, though perhaps a litle coarse.
The hair of Jefferson is of a different elm
acier, being a mixture of white and auburn or
a sandy brown, aud ra'ber coarse. In bis
youth Mr. Jefferson's Luir was remarkable tor
its color.
The hair of Madison is coarse, and of a mix
ed white and dark.
1 he hair of Monroe is a handsome dark au
burn, smooth and free from any admixture
whatever, lie is the only President, except
ing Pierce, whose hair had undergone no change
in color.
'J he hair of John Q. Adams is somewhat
peculiar, being coarse, and of a yellowish gray j
iti color.
The hair of General Jackson is almost a per
fect while, but coarse in its character, as might
be supposed by those who have examined the
portraits of the old hero.
The hair of Van Dure a is white and smooth
ia appearance
The hair of General Harrison is-a Sao white,
with a slight admixture of black.
Tlie hair of John Tyler is a mixture of while
and brown.
The hair of James K. Polk is almost a pure
The hair of General Taylor is white, with a
slight admixture of brown.
The hair of Millard FiUuorc, is on the oili
er hand, btown, wi b a slight admixture of
The hair of Franklin Pierce is of a dark
brown, of which lie has a plentiful crop.—
Sunbury American.
Two country lawyers overtaking a wagoner,
and thinking crack a j ike on him, asked,
with assumed gravity—
' Pray, mister wagoner, how is it that your
lead horse is so fat and the other so lean?'
The wagoner, with sharp penetration, re
'Well, ye see the reason is plain—the lead
horse is a lawyer, and the other twourobis
The j.-kcrs vamosed iustanttr.
tor, speaking of one of his brethren of the
quill, noted fur his®, remarked that if
the Scripture proverb, tlia'. "all flesh is
grass," was true, then that man must be a load
of hay.
"[ suspect I am, from the way the asses are
uibbling at me," replied the fat man.
times are haid enough. 1 dined or. carried beef
and cabbage yesterday !
Brown—\V by, what did you do with that pair
of ducks, I saw you pay a dollar and a quarter
fur ?
Jonas—Oh—ah—yes. Well, 1 had I hem
delphia Gazettee, i-peaking of a new prima
donna, says, "Her voice is as soft as u roll of
velvet, uiid as tender as a pair of slop shop
pantaiooue "
VOL. 31, I\o.
His mode of attack gave u,e an insight into
the method by which this species of snake do
st roys nuiuuLs. The teeth of the boa con
strictors being long, and turned bat-It, some
thing Hi the Ssli hook shape, the snake darts
out and seizes Lola of us prey. Then draw
ing i r s bead back again, it pulls the aniiuai to
liie ground at oiu.-c, and coiling round it, com
mences tho crashing process. The power of
squeezing must be enormous. Ou attemptiug
to skin this animal, the muscles inside had the
appearance of sitings of ropuj extending from
the head to tku tail; these he seemed to Ltvo
the power of ccatiacting or extending, so that
a part that might be three feet long as he coil
ed himself round your body, could be instant
ly reduced so about a foot, by this means giv
ing any otic in bis embrace a very tolerable
I have before remarked that those snakes are
not Considered dangetou.i to man, as th; y are
not puisoaouq and it timse attacked Lad a
t'u'.rp kai'e, and managed to keep their arms
free, Air. Suake would get the worst of it. if
one happened, however, to bo asleep, and a box
constrictor thou became familiar, he mffiht a >
have wound himself round arms and body as to
prevent a knife from being used. I have n u
doubt that they have power sufficient to crush
any tuau to death in a few seconds, did they
once got themselves comfortably settled rouud
bis rib-; but I hover heard of such a ease dur
ing my residence at Natal, although I made
every inquiry from the Kaffir/.*
Formally there was a groat deal of supersti
tion among the Kaffirs'with regard to this
snake, >nd a person who billed one Lad to go
through a quarantine of purify tug; now. how
ever, tb y do not seem to care much uLotu
them, i saw an old inau near the Umbilo
river fi tun tig a largo boa constrictor to tho
groan*l with several as-aigea to prevent i'a
'*i igc*no had about a dozen difforeut ones
stuck into h.s body, and seemed to think a few
more would uo no Jie rold me that the
suake was a great rascal, and had killed a e.df
ol bis, some time before, that he hid iong
watched the opportunity of catching it 00101'
its bole, arm ut lust found it so, when a smart
free of some yards ended in the Kaffir assay
ing the veal eater.—Sporting Scenes amongst
the Kaffirs of South Africa, by L'aptaffi \ \V
Draysoß, fi.'A.
lu the days of old Myeail, the publisher of
the Newport (Mass.) Herald, ( i journal $(]:!
alive and flourishing.) the Sheriff of old Essex,
Philip Bigiey, had been asked several times to
pay up hi- arrears of subscription. At lastMio
told Mycai that he would certainly 'hand over*
the next iiiurning as sure as he lived. 'lf you
don't got your money to-morrow, you si-ry be
sure I am dead,'said he.'
The morrow came aui passed, but no money.
Judge or the Sheriffs feedings when, on the
morning of the day after, he opened tho
•♦Herald," and saw announced the lamented
decease of Philip Bagley, Esq., High Sheriff
cf the county of E-sex, with au obituary no
tice attached, giving the deceased credit for a
good uiany excellent traits of character, but
adding that he bad one fault very much to bo
deplmd—bo was not punctual in paying the
Bagley, without waiting for his breakfast,
started fur the Herald office. Ou the way it
struck him as singular that, none of the many
frieiids and acquaintances be met seemed to be
'surprised (o meet him. They must have read
the morning papers. Was it possible Utey
cared so little about hint as to have forgo tie u
already that he wis no more. Full of pertur
bation, he entered the printing office to deny
that he was dra 1.
'Why, Sheriff" exclaimed the facetious edi
tor, 'I thought you were defunct.'
'Defunct!' exclaimed the Sheriff. What put
that idea into your head?'
'Why, yourself, * said MyeaM. Did you not
tell me '
•Oo! ah! yes' I see,' st.imuiei* J out tho
Sheriff. 'Wei', !here's your money,! AfiS
now contradict the report in your next paper,
if you please.'
♦That's not necessary, friend Bagley,'paid
the oi l joker, 'it was only prinft-a in uoar
Tko good Sheriff lived for many years after
this 'sell,' and to the cay of Lis leal death al
ways took care to pay the printer.
Weightjlif the Cabinet. —A oorrespoc
dent of tho Boston Journal snys .
"The prescut cabinet is composed of "men of
weight," as 1 noticed to-day, on a register kei-t
at tlis Smithsonian Institution. Howell Cobb
is set down at 2 1< 1 poatias, Gcvcruor Brown at
177; Secretary Tourey U K>(>, Secretary
Thompson at 117, and Gov. Floyd 139. I
should judge that General Cass wi'l weigh near
ly 200 pounds, although ha is not as fleshy as
he was a few years since, lie is very active
tor one of his age, and walks to the department
of State almost every morning without an over
coat, aud with ati elastic step.
The only way to cure a boy of staying oat
iuto at nights, is to break bis iegs, or get tho
Calico ha runs with to do tho house work.
A Goud Heoplator. —"How late w it?"
"Look at t'uo boss and sea if he is drunk yet,
if ho is not, it can't be much after eleven o'-
•Does be keep good tinw?'
'Splendid! tbuy regulate lowti clock by
his nose.'
AJ< ICE. — A fellow stole u saw, and on his
tri il tol l the Judge he only took it in a joke.
♦How fr did you carry ii'' asked the judg-\
♦Two miicf,' answered tb : prisoner. 'Ah! that's
eany iog e joke too fur" remarked tbo judge,
uad ".ha prisoner got three months, unrequited