The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, April 29, 1857, Image 1

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ti.t.ct raetta,
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!"
"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
"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
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
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
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5 00 8 00 10 00
7 00 10 00 15 00
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
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
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
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,..
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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
Common Sense.
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
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
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
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
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."
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
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
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
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.
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.
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!
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.
Have Done.