The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, April 29, 1857, Image 1
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Three squares, Four squares, 9 00 13 00 "0 00 Half a column, 12 03 16 00. r't 00 Ono column, 20 00 :30 00 50 00 Professional and Business Cards not exceeding - four lines, ono year, $3 00 Administrators' and Executors' Notices,..... $1 75 Advertisements not marked with the number of inser tions desired, will be continued till forbid and charged ac cording to these terms. ti.t.ct raetta, THE OLD HOMESTEAD. Don't you remember, Mary dear, When you and I were small, That dear, old oak tree in the yard, That was so great and tall; 'Twas there, remember, Mary dear, Beneath its shady bow'rs, We used to laugh and sing and play Like birds among the flow'rs ; And when we hot and thirsty grew, And could no longer sing, How raced we down the sloping hill, To kiss the gurgling spring; The oak has fallen, Mary dear, Beneath tho witer's blast; The stump alone is left, it seems, A relic of the past. Don't you remember, Mary dear, When you and I were small, That dear old house with mossy roof,— The porch, it seemed, would fall; How oft around its glowing hearth, We sat in crickets low, While winter in his ermine robes, Dispens'd us-hail and snow ; In breathless awe how still we sat To hear the old folks tell Of fairy lands and bloody bands— Don't you remember well ? The dear old house, and old folks. too, Ifave pass'd away together— The chimney marks the place of one— The tombstones mark the other! Don't you remember, Mary dear, That dark, old cedar grove— There stand the tombstones, pale and white, O'er those we used to love. Oh, Mary dear, my heart grows sad When o'er the scenel gaze, To mark tho changes time hall'. wrought, In scenes of other days! The stump, the chimney, and the tombs Alone have stood the blast, And these, alas, aro but, it seems, Sad relics of the past. 4-ue r.:~ ru,~-~ ~+~ aft i,i,Y:~~rnx~ There's mourning in the household— There's a wail on the air of Night! There's a crushed and broken spirit— Crushed when their hopes were bright The fell destroyer missioned, Again the fond heart's torn, Again, from the arms of affection, A cherished one is borne. There's joy among the Angels— There's music in the spheres— Another has joined their number— ' She a white-robed form appears! And there, in.her saint-like beauty, She roam, a spirit blest, " "Where 'the 'wiked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest!" afitterestiug "IT IS NOT HARD ,TO DIE." BY MRS. M. A. DENNISON "Now Doctor," said a sweet-faced girl, looking with confidence into the kind lace that had bent over her so often, "tell me is there any certainty that I shall ever recover? I think not; so you see I am prepared for ill tidings, and I am continually tormenting myself with the question. Will you nut be candid with me, dear Mr. Ellis?" "While there is life,"—commerced the Doctor, but the frail young creature inter rupted him, saying: "No, no, doctor, that won't do : I must have your professional opinion ; and when I say that my soul's happiness, fur the rem nant of this life will be affected by your de cision, sure you will grant me this request." "But could you bear—". "Anything, doctor but this suspense. I am willing to be told the exact state of the case ;—for, you see some days I feel so really well, that my hope is unduly excited, and again, when the sleepless hours and terrible pains come, death takes an awful shape, and frightens me out of repose. But if I was certain " —she spoke with solemnity I would teach my mind to dwell upon it in such a way that my follies feats would leave me." "My sweet girl," said the doctor, taking her wasted hand, "I will grant this request. You cannot certainly recover, unless some extraordinary providence occurs. Your life may be protracted some time yet, but not over a year at the farthest, so it seems to me." The pale cheek grew a shade paler, but the smile faded not on the gentle lips. "'Thank you doctor," was her reply, "thank you for your trust and confidence in me. You shall see I will not abuse them." The beautiful consumptive sat alone in her large easy chair some moments after the doctor was gone. She gazed about her on lustiries which wealth unbounded had pro cured for her pleasure, and the large untrou bled eye grew dim. "Then I must die 1" she said to herself, "and oh, this fear, not of an hereafter, but of that dread passing through the valley which• shadows my hours of suffering?— Even my religion does not dissipate that shrinking shuddering fear. The impressions of my childhood will not go away but return with new forge." And as 'she thus half whispered to herself, a lonely matron enter ed, and hurrying 'to her side, kissed the fair brow. , . "You are better to-day, child?" she said in tones of forced calmness: "nay don't shake your head so Mournfully; indeed, if you knew how much improved you appear," and she threw a low seat towards the young girl and sat gazing in her eyes with the holy loye of 'maternity. "Mother," 'said the consumptive, as she took_ the matron's hand in her own, "there is "What I want you to do for me." "What is it.darling? You know I would lay down n;iy, life for, you." For tin instant 'the pale lips quivered; but commanding herself, the young girl replied gently : ,"I want you to talk to me of death—of my own death which is certain soon." "My, Amyl" was all the mother could ar ticulate; her voice seemed frozen by horror. "Yes; Mother ; for, listen a moment, it will make your poor sick child more willing to leave earth and find heaven. If you. will talk daily' and cheerfully of my passing away ; if you will surround the thought with cheerfulness, and make the last struggle $1 50 . 75 . 50 5 00 8 00 10 00 7 00 10 00 15 00 LITTLE JOHNNIE WILLIAM LEWIS, VOL. X.ll. seem pleasant to me, this strange horror with which I regard it would fade away and my mind be drawn more wholly to the better land. It may be a sacrifice to you, but I shall learn to look forward to my death bed with calniness, which I now strive in vain to do. 11111 you try to do this mother? Will you talk of it often? Will you repeat the swe ,, t words that dying saints have spoken? Will you speak of the smiles that repose upon their faces, until I can think cheerful ly, and talk without reserve of that change, even as I would lie down, and put my gar ments by, ready to attire myself when I should awake in the fair morning? Will you tell those who call to see me never to shrink speaking to me of death? Will you do this my mother?" The matron promised, and retired to her chamber, to shed the tears of anguish born of this request. She, too, had long felt that her child must die, but had put afar off "the ovil day." And in the strength of God she performed her duty. Seven months had passed, and still gentle Amy lived. The fatal crimson burnt its death fire into her cheek, and her eyes gleamed with the fitful flash of disease: but about her sweet lips hovered a constant smile ; she had lost her fear of the king . of terrors, and dwelt upon her departure with almost exulting joy.—"l knew that through Christ I was prepared to go," she said to the pastor; "I knew there were glories in the bright world above, that the imagination cannot conceive of; yet I have shuddered from my infancy at death. The thought of dissolution with its icy chill, and quivering breath made me cold - at heart, and I strive to forget it but cannot. Yet since you, since my mother, since all who know me have made it a familiar and household word— clothed it in beautiful thoughts, and sur rounded it with heavenly images, -it has be come less terrible, till now I can hold my hand to him who unlocks the spirits and says, ' Death where is thy sting?" As she spoke thus, a ray from the setting sun imaged a crown •of glory upon her fair brow. Her mother and friends at that mo ment entered. "Hush," said the pastor, with uplifted hands; and they stood transfixed. With that last holy smile he had marked an in stantaneous change; and as ho bent forward, through the lips so ' beautifully wreathed, there came no breath. "Well might she exclaim: Death where is thy sting !" said the pastor, turning with tearful eyes, "never saw I the king of ter ms in so lovely a garb. How sweet she sleeps !" Aye! sweetly still, in a grave yard upon the hill side; and on the white shaft that bears her name, some loving hand has chis elled: " IT IS NOT HARD TO DIE." From the Ohio Farmer. April—Flowers and Flower Gardens. Among the numerous topics which are in. teresting to the farmer, the flowers of our gar dens should not be omitted, those brilliant or naments of the earth, which nature seems to have designed to lead us in early life, by their charms, to love the field and wood, and in later life, to enliven our toil by their fragrance and beauty. No farmer should allow himself to despise a flower as some mere utilitarians are very apt to do ; for though it may be un interesting to him, if he has no poetry of love of beauty in his soul, he should consider that flowers serve greatly to render their home de lightful to the young, and to cherish in their hearts a love for the pursuits of a farm. To the daughters of a farmer, flowers are almost essential to inspire them with an interest in rural pursuits, and a reasonable amount of labor should never be grudged to furnish them with so simple and innocent a gratifica tion. how vividly is the remembrance of our early home associated with these simple flow ers, and how greatly they Serve to give cheer fulness and sacredness to the grounds which they occupy. No farmer's house should be left unadorned with these simple and beauti ful ornaments, which require no wealth to purchase them, and no expensive labor to preserve them in all their beauty. If we wish to inspire our rising offspring with an enduring love of the scenes of home, (for a love of home itself springs from moral influences,) and an attachment to rural pur suits, our farms must not be without their flower gardens—neat, modest and simple gar dens that do not dazzle the eyes, but present hundreds of simple and beautiful objects, to be loved in youth, and remembered ever af terwards, as the souvenirs of that happy pe riod of life. On the other hand, if while our farmers' sons and daughters are growing up to their adult years, they witness at home no thing but toil and drudgery within doors and without; no flowers around the house, no pictures in it, no conversation except of labor and, stock, and.the prices of produce, nothingexpened for taste and ornament, would it be surprising if they considered a farmer's life a miserable life of drudgery, and the farmer's home a mere work-house, and that they should long to escape from it, and - engage in some more animating employment ? But if the :heads of the family possess a taste for the charms of nature ; if they are alive to the beauties of a flower, to the war bling birds ; if they value trees on account of, their beauty, as well as for their utility and their .shade ; and when ,they look abroad upon the landscape, can reflect with delight upon its grandeur and its loveliness, as well as on its profitableness for cultivation ; then they are likely to gather around them certain beautiful• objects that should be a source of perpetual joy to their children, and inspire them with a, love for the scenes of home, which must always endure. It is from this want of attention to matters of taste; .this contempt of ornament, and indifference to the charms of beauty on the part of the parents, that so many young men' have grown up without a local attachment to the place of their birth, and left their homes, and. forsaken their farms to juin in trade and commerce, which are thus over stocked with laborers and adventurers, ! .4 * 4,.. Si. t. ivir ; .ii i ~. ~- ~,,,. ..... -.--' while agriculture is neglected. If we would teach our children to " venerate the plow," we must render it ;suggestive to their minds of something besides unmitigated toil. It must be associated with all the beauties and pleasures of country life. It must be the re membrance of happiness which the country only can yield, but which are too often absent from the farm; it must call to mind the flow ers of the field and the garden ;it must be associated with instruction in-the fields, and amusing and rational studies on pleasant win ter evenings. Then will - the enticement of young men, who are farmers' sons, be great er to join the interesting and noble pursuits of agriculture, with their freedom under the blue canopy of Heaven, and a competency of all the good things of life, in preference to the slavery and confinement imposed upon them by the pursuits of commerce. In the course of these remarks, we have said nothing of the style in which the garden should be laid out, because we consider this a matter of_ no essential importance, provided the style be sufficiently plain and simple. Our main object should -be to have a plat of ground, or several. spots, devoted to the cul ture of flowers—a bower of taste, where the old can find recreation after the release from toil, and where the young may find rational amusements and delight which willbind their affections to nature and to home. Far be it tom us to recommend anything like ostenta tion around the simple rustic farm. "In simple Gardens, Wisdom loved to rove, And smiled to give her precepts from the grove, When to the wise, the good, the brave, the Gods Prepared th' eternal gift of blest abodes, No palace was the prize—but soothing shades, And flowers that laugh along the varied meads, To more sincere delights invited ease, And promised dearer joys, more lasting peace." One of the things needful in this our day, is more of an article commonly denominated common sense. It is getting to be very rare. It is the scarcest and most uncommon com modity among us. We want a school, an academy, a college, an institution of some sort, where common sense can be taught theoretically and illustrated practically. The sources of common sense, like the sources of the common atmosphere, are so abundantly provided, so very common, that we have overlooked its value almost entirely. There is nothing which nature has so lavish ly supplied to us as the, air we breathe, or should breathe, for "in the breath is the life." And yet one-half of our people are trying in all possible ways to keep it out of their mor tal bodies; while a moiety of the other half are constantly killing themselves in their ef forts to irritate and poison what little they do breathe. Vide—the lady, otherwise good looking in that murderously tight dress; and the gentleman with a cigar in his otherwise decently-shaped mouth. And the water we drink, or should drink, is distilled for us from exhaustless fountains. The clouds above us, the lakes, and rivers, and springs, and streamlets among us, and the illimitable oceans around us, sufficiently at test its value and its importance. But, alas, it is common! And human be ings must, forsooth, rack their brains, and destroy half the grains and fruits of the earth, which God intended for our purest nourishment and highest development, to con coct an. uncommon beverage. Hence rum, brandy, gin, wine, cider, etc., have supplant ed Nature's drink, and, as a consequence, brought ruin and desolation upon half the hu man race. And our common sense, like the common air and the common water, has been literally cast out of our synagogues, to make room for something uncommon. Our common brains and common instincts are combined, cribbed, confined, repressed, distorted, perverted, ret roverted, so that everything in us and of us shall be in some way unnatural, uncommon. Our buildings must each be constructed on a different plan; no two gentlemen must dress alike ; the ladies must not dress similarly; and the sexes must have nothing like a fami ly resemblance in any of their multitudinous habiliments. In short, common sense must be turned out of all respectable society, in order that every uncommon oddity, eccentri city, or monstrosity may be entertained and glorified. We will not worship the true God, because He is everywhere present at all times; He is too common. But we will make to our selves rare and costly graven images, and torture ourselves with the vehemence and vi olence of our unnatural and false devotion. Almost every person is born with the ele ments within him and the influences around him for achieving distinction, for becoming good and great. If individuals do not suc ceed, it is generally because they do not exer cise their common sense capacities. They have fallen into the prevalent false standard of judgment, and have learned to estimate the value of things by their scarcity. This should not be. The commonest things are, throughout all God's domains, the most val uable. Our truly great men are always our commonsensical men. And the same is true of our truly good women. All really groat and good persons are those who cultivate, their own minds, and apply their powers and. perceptions to the things, the realities around. them, without relying passively on the brains of others. • In this way they become useful, thoughtful, active and self-reliant. Their entity becomes more and more individualised, and their individuality tends more and more to an independent personality. They are in the order of development, progress. Remember Franklin 1 He is our type, our model of common sense Men. Few men are so well-known in history. Very few are so often quoted. Scarcely one has made a deep er impression on human society. Yet he was not greatly distinguished in any particular line. He was never' a' general, as Washing ton was ; he was,not a statesman, like Adams; he was not a pott; like Byron ; he was not a philosopher, like Newton ; nor a metaphysi cian,.like Locke. He was neither distinctive ly, but he was all collectively. He was great in little things. His greatness consisted in a correct appreciation of the relations of com HUNTINGDON, PA., APRIL 29, 1857. Common Sense. ^P.ERSEVERE.- mon things. He was not great on great oc casions, but great always on all occasions.— He was ever ready to turn the little acts and incidents of life to practical account. He possessed an uncommon share of common sense, and this was the secret of his distin guished character, his world-wide reputation, and his extraordinary influence.—We Illus trated. The fair Eugenia—the Empress of Napo leon lll—the famous resuscitator of hooped apparel—the liberal patronizer of crinoline— the Mother of the French baby that caused such a sensation in Europe at the time of its birth—has, it seems from Parisian gossip, proved a grand failure. A Paris letter-writer says: The Empress by an unexpected weakness of mind, has gradually lost the hold she had on the Emperor's affections. She has exhib ited lately a degree of frivolity' and lightness totally unbecoming her elevated position.— Thus her time is spent in getting up fine robes; she wants to revive the system of court pages and other expurgated fooleries of other centuries; she wants her court to dazzle, but her inventions are those of a milliner. It ap pears that Eugenie is one of those delicate and premature organizations which reach their acme of brilliancy early, and then rap idly decline into ineffective mediocrity. It would be absurd to suppose that Napoleon, with his practical turn of mind, and a full knowledge of the difficulties that surrounded him, was going to unite his fortunes to an unknown woman, merely for her beauties of of person ; for he might have found plenty of beauties who were known and esteemed in France. But he married Eugenie because he believed her a brilliant woman in point of intellect, who would be able to lend him material assistance in the management of that part of his affairs more particularly be longing to her sex. But, however much clev erness she may have had younger, the hopes of the Emperor appear to be sadly deceived, and it is said that he cannot even trust the organization of the palace fetes to her Majesty. Ile is obliged to be a tyrant in his own house. In fine, Eugenie does not come up to his standard, and he is growing tired of her; hence the numerous infidelities of the Empe ror, which form the theme of Paris gossip just at this time. DE Tau -F. PAINFUL SUICIDE.—We regret to learn that on Thursday last, Mr. WILLIAM P.trax- SIDE, a highly respectable and useful citizen of Potter's Mills, Centre county, put an un timely end to his existence by bleeding him self to death. The particulars of the sad circumstance, as near as we can ascertain, are as follows :—On the morning of the above day he left his home, for the purpose of (as he informed his family) making collec tions of money due him. During the day, nothing more was thought of the matter, nothing unusual having been observed in his demeanor when he departed. Towards the close of the day, a young man went to the smoke house of the deceased for some meat, and there discovered his lifeless remains, lying on the floor. The appearance of the body indicated that he had consummated the deed by severing the main arteries of his arm, above the elbow, with a common pocket knife, cutting the flesh entirely to the bone, and bending the blade of the knife in 'so doing. The only cause that can be attributed for the commission of the rash act, is disappoint ment in monetary matters. lie had sold his property, preparatory to removing to Clarion county, and for some time past was engaged in endeavoring to make collections to meet demands against him, but having failed, it is thought induced him to commit the melan choly deed. He was an upright, moral and highly useful citizen, and his loss is deeply deplored by the bereaved family, and a large circle of friends and acquaintances.—lXiViS.. iOICII True Democrat. A KIND ACT.—How sweet is the remem brance of a kind act! As we rest on our pil low or rise in morning, it gives us delight. We have performed a good deed to a poor man; we have made the widow's heart re joice; we have dried the orphan's tears.— Sweet, oh ! how sweet the thought ! There is a luxury in remembering the kind act. A storm careers about our heads, all is black as midnight—but the sunshine is in our bosom —the warmth is felt there. The kind act re joiceth the heart, and giveth delight inexpres sible. Who will not be kind ? Who will not be good ? Who will not visit those who are afflicted in body or mind? To spend an hour among the poor and. depressed, " Is worth a thousand passed In pomp and ease—'t is present to the last" THREE TIMES TIIR.EE.—There are three things which never become rusty—the money of the benevolent, • the shoes of a butcher's horse, and a slanderer's tongue. Three things not easily done—to allay thirst with fire ; to dry wet with water, and to please in everything that is done. Three things that are as good as the best —brown bread in a famine, well water in thirst, and a great coat in very cold weather. Three things as good as their betters—.-dir ty water to extinguish a fire, a homely wife to a blind man, and a wooden sword to a cow ard. Three things of short continuation-- , a lady's love, a chip fire, a brook flood. Three warnings from the grave—" Thou knowest what I was, thou knowcst what I am, remember what thou art to be." How TO TREAT SLANDERERS.--"Let alone my friend, let alone those feeble malicious enviers of your growing fame. Why should your, wit immortalize those names whose natural fate it is "to be forgotten?" In the frantic war which the giants waged against the Gods, they sent a monstrous dragon to attack Minerva. But Minerva seized the dragon and hurled him up to the sky. There he still shines (as a constellation,) and: what has often been the reward of victo rious deeds became the loss of the vanquished dragon. The Empress Eugenie. The Executive Committee of the Society met at Louisville, Ky., on the 19th ult., and made all the preliminary , arrangements for its fifth grand exhibition in the fall, the Hon. Marshall P. Wilder, President of the Society, presiding. L. A. Whitely, Esq., was elected Assistant Secretary, and Arthur Peter, Esq., Assistant Treasurer. The Hon. Gibson Mal lory was chosen Chairman of the local Ex ecutive Committee; the other members are the Hon. James Guthrie, ex-Secretary of the Treasury, Messrs. T. IL Hunt, J. B. O'Ban non, B. J. Adams, W. Watkins and Isaac Everett. After a full deliberation, and reference to the appointments of the various State Socie ties, it was decided to hold the exhibition on the Ist, 2d, 3d, 4th and sth of September.— This, on reflection, will be seen to be a judi cious choice. They escape all danger of the equinoctial storm ; the stock is not fagged out by exhibition at other shows ; the public cu riosity has not been sated; the weather is not fitful ; exhibitors can take prize stock and ag ricultural implements to other fairs ; and, moreover, this being the great National show of the country, it very appropriately leads the way in advance of the others. By this arrangement, a visiter from Philadelphia or New York can go there, see the magnificent stock and horses of Kentucky, Indiana, Ohio and Illinois, and the grand field trial of im plements, stop at Cincinnati to attend the Fair of the Ohio Board of Agriculture, and arrive home in ample time for that of the New York State Society on the 30th Septem ber to 2d October. Judging from the spirit manifested by the gentlemen co-operating with the Society, there cannot be the slightest doubt that this fifth exhibition will be equal to any of its predecessors. With ample arrangements for the accommodation of stock, abundance of water on the grounds, a tract of forty-three acres, surrounded with a good tight fence, and the very best possible railroad facilities for carrying passengers, stock and implements, there can be no reason why exhibitors should not throng there, and a vast crowd attend to participate in the festivities, especially as this is the first time that such an imposing exhi bition will have ever been held in that part of 'the Union. This is the busiest and most important month in the year for garden work. The last week-of march was mostly . favorable for digging annd - getting the ground ready—trans planting vines, canes, bushes and shrubbery; but much of this will also be done the early part of this month. It should be remember ed that the earlier these things are done the better, as they are net only out of the way of other work, but the operation is more likely to be successful. The seeds, sets, &c., to be planted this month, should be put in the ground as early as possible, somewhat in the following order, as to time, (should those named among the first in the list not be already planted):— Early Peas, early Potatoes, (Fox's Seedling is the best,) Onions, (Silver Skins the best,) Cauliflower, early Bets, Orange Carrot, Long Scarlet Radish, Lettuce in drills or becl, Sugar Parsnip, early Dutch Turnip, Bush Beans, Salsify, Cabbage Seed, Leek, Brocoli, Nastur tions, Celery, Parsley, Sage, Sweet Marjoram, Thyme, Spinach, &c. Asparagus beds should he well covered with salt, (any common kind will do,) as soon as the plants show their no ses ; but care must be taken that it does not touch anything else, such as box edging, &c., or it will be destroyed. Asparagus being a marine plant, salt is the best manure that can be applied. New asparagus beds can be made the early part of this month. Dig trenches from 20 to 24 inches in depth, put a layer of cornstalks at the bottom, then a layer of well-rotted horse and cow manure, then one of rich soil, and alternate with manure and soil. Plant two year old roots, (to be ob tained of the nurserymen,) four inches apart each way, the crown of the root buried from an inch to an inch and a half below the sur face. The beds should be about 31 feet wide. The second year after planting, the thicker sprouts may be cut for the table; the third year will yield a full crop. Five beds 12 feet long, will be sufficient for a medium sized family. Those who never eat asparagus from their own garden, don't know what asparagus is. How TittrE!—ln a recent number of Honey's Magazine, the remark is made that "few com plete and thoroughly made gardens and grounds are to be found. We see everywhere in the rapid increase of wealth and popula tion in our suburban towns, fine buildings, erected almost by magic, in the highest style of architectural art, and finished without re gard to expense. These costly dwellings, as well as those of more humble pretensions, meet our eyes in every direction, and would command our highest admiration, but for one defect. They are wanting in the elegant sur roundings which should belong to every sub urban residence; the _lawn, the ornamental grounds, the fruit garden, or even the little parterre, have been entirely neglected, and they stand bleak and alone, an ostentatious display of wealth without taste, on the one hand, or the appearance of a depleted purse without the means of doing anything more, on the other." BARLEY MEAL.—Some one makes the in quiry in the N. E. Farmer, what the effect of giving barley to mulch cows will be. A friend who has tried it, informs me that barley fed to mulch cows will fatten them, but, being of a dry, heating nature, Will dry them up. If you wish to dry up a cow to fat, give them barley ;if - you wish to get cm abundance of milk, give something more succulent, and of a different nature. J. S. S. Stx. or EGGS.—The sound, plump eggs will hatch hens, and slender ones, cocks, invaria bly. So says the Homestead. Editor and Proprietor. agricultural. U. S. ,Agricultural Society. Garden ViTork for April. We cannot too often or too confidently re commend the cultivation of this excellent field crop. It is a great yielder, hardy, easi ly raised, and is superior, we think, to any vegetable grown for mulch cows and fattening cattle, especially when fed raw. We have grown large quantities for our own use the past seventeen years, and can therefore speak of it practically and experimentally. One of our neighbors—a lady farmer—informs us that she made thirty pounds of butter per week from six cows, in December, fed upon hay and sugar beet. She adds, that the but ter was fully equal to the best made in Sep tember and October, on rich pasture. The Sugar beet does best in moderately rich, loamy soil, but will grow where any other root does. The seed should be soaked two to four days in tepid water, previous to planting, so as to insure its germination. If planted without first soaking, its shell is so hard it is a long time germinating. Hence, the ill success of many who do not take this into consideration. NO. 45. For field cultivation, the rows should be three feet apart, so as to admit working easi ly with the cultivator among the rows. The plants, when finally thinned out, should not stand nearer to each other than six. inches in the row. It can be pulled and secured in the fall the same as turnips. The best variety is the White Silesian, though the French Yellow has been so much improved lately, we are informed it has be. come nearly as good as the latter. We have never found it to keep so well. The beet requires about four pounds of seed per acre, and can be planted very rapid ly in drills with a seed-sower, costing about eight dollars.—American Agriculturist. PROFITS OF CARROT RAISING.—As many as sixteen hundred bushels of carrots to the acre have, in some instances, been realised, but such a yield is only to be expected, of course, where the ground is in a very high degree of cultivation, and where great care and attention are bestowed on the crop. But supposing one-half of this large amount can be produced, and alloWing the roots to possess a value equal to potatoes, for feeding swine and other domestic animals, the balance is found to be considerably in favor of the for mer. The labor of tending an acre of car rots or parsnips, is, it is true, considerably greater than that involved in the cultivation of the same extent in potatoes; yet this is not all loss. Dar' Roses, remember, require a rich bed —and the richer it is ; the finer and greater the number of flowers: Poultry and pigeon dung are goodi so is well-rotten cow or horse manure: A thick layer around the stem, slightly covered, will soon show itself in extra fine flowers. From the Atlas and Argus. Disorganization and Demoralization of the Fremont Party. The party which, in the late election; strain ed every nerve to elect John Chas. Fremont to the presidency, seem to have dropped him with great unanimity. The presses do not speak of him ; the orators do not flourish over him ; the glee clubs do not sing over him ; the political preachers do not shriek for him. The "pathfinder" seems to have followed some route (like those upon which his popular rep utation rests, but at which scientific men laugh) and has lost his way in obscurity. Ilis party separating from their guide, do this devious route, have gone astray also, and there is danger will. never be heard of. In Rhode Island, the party has abandoned its name, kicked over its platform, invited in the two or three thousand Americans, and consented to incorporate the doctrine of the exclusion of the whites from citizenship with that of the elevation of the blacks, and to re Bard these two doctrines as the fundamental basis of their creed. With this addition to their vote, they have saved themselves, and no more. In Connecticut the same coalition has been made, with the same results. Fremontism and black republicanism have been suppress , . ed ; the new idea of the exclusion of white aliens from citizenship adopted, and the party saved from utter defeat only by this means. The coalition have lost ten thousand votes and two members of Congress; but they con sole themselves with the fact that but for the union they would have lost all. In Pennsylvania, Fremontism, has been sup pressed also, and black republicanism has al lied itself to proscriptive nativeism. Last fall Fremont and Fillmore went side by side, and agreed to share the spoils in proportion to their strength ; but this year the half-and half arrangement is dropped, and the amal gamation is complete ; and Mr. Wilmot is presented as the champion of negro equality and alien white proscription., What shall be said of a party that adopts the dangerous principles of sectional repub licanism in a great national crisis such as we have passed, appealing to the highest sym pathy of men, so as o disguise thO danger of its principles, and then set up the standard of proscription ? What shall we think of its inward corruption when it thus festers, gangrenes, and rots under the first blow it receives ? What can we say, except, "Let it be buried out of sight." What the Democracy of dotbiecticut We copy the following from the New Ha ven Register of the 15th inst: "We have elected Samuel Arnold to Con gress from this district by about 500 majori ty, being a gain of 2,000 since the presiden tial election! "We have elected William D. Bishop to Congress over 0. S. Perry,-in a district which gave 3,300 against Buchanan in November! We have come within a few hundred votes of electing our whole State ticket, ma.- king a gain of 10,000 votes since November! "ISN'T THIS GLORY ENOUGH ? The less of these two Congressmen will raise a howl from the black-republican ranks throughout the country. They would willingly, have given us governor, legislature, everything else, - if they could have saved to themselves the grat ification of having a united delegation of blacks in Congress from New England. But the chain is broken ! Two sterling men of our faith—'pro-slavery buchaneers, our op ponents call them—will be on the floor of the next Congress to maintain the honor of New England, and the devotion of her people to the Union ! We are proud of the fact that Connecticut has sent them there! " It was almost too much to expect that we should elect our honored candidate for gov ernor, with the 10,500 votes against us in No vember. But the vote we give him is a noble one—and it must be particularly gratifying to Mr. Ingham. Se — Truth is the hidden gem we all should dig for. Sugar Beet. VoMira'. Have Done.