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Original Vuttrp..
Written for The Globe
TIM VISION.
Quoi quisque jere studio clevinctus adkaeret ;
tut quibus in rebus multum, sumus ante morale;
Atque in qua ratione fuit contenta magic inens ;
In amnia eadem plerumque ricleinus obire.
I dreamed—and oh! if life could be
A scene of such untiring pleasure—
From sorrow's bitter pangs so free,
I'd count it all a priceless treasure :
Methought 'twas morn and each fair flow'r
Was in its loveliness more gay,
Whilst decking Earth who Wall that hour
Prepared to meet the rising day.
No jarring sound fell on my ear
. To break the glorious spell that morning,
By which nature had made so dear
The scenes which night had been adorning—
The Heavens seemed more bright than ever
And all things earthly seemed so fair,
That could I then have lived forever,
I should have spent that lifetime there.
But ohl 't was not nature alone
That banished far each note of sadness,
Nor through it that each flower shone
With such a blushing hue of gladness ;
For then "Laurentie told the story
• Which from her lips I longed to know,
And with her blushes, decked with glory
My all of happiness below.
't was but a changing dream,
I.woko again to gloomy sorrow,
And now so dark as all things seem
Tliat I scarce look for a bright morrow;
rat still a changing light doth linger
Upon each massive cloud of woe,
And Hope, with her angelic finger,
Some scones of beauty still doth show.
With Fadclened heart I scan the past,
And scarce dare hope the winter ending ;
But Hope tells me that every blast
Is more with summer's mildness blending.
Thus, then, pass the weary present,
And hope that life will yet he gay ;
For though now chilling, yet 'Hs pleasant
To think these storms will pass away.
AMASS INCOUNITILLS
Offie Run, Pa., July 3, 1857
litttrrsting Itlisttitzt.
A Contented Mind
No two characters so widely differ than
eneblessed with a contented mind and another
ever dissatisfied and complaining. Fire and
water, being different elements, can in no
way unite or harmonize. Either the one will
be extinguished or the other dried up. Thus
it is my young friends, with the characters
to which I wish to draw your attention. Ire
who possesses a contented mind, is always
grateful for the peculiar advantages he en
joys, and finds a sweet pleasure in witness
ing the happiness of others who are even
more highly favored than himself, and de
lights with a word of encouragement, or an
act of kindness, to add to the enjoyment of
those placed in less favorable circumstances.
On the other hand, he who has been so im
portunate as to make himself miserable by
cultivating a restless disposition is ever com
plaining at the hardness of his lot, and en
vying the enjoyments of others; although if
he were placed in -the circumstances of those
persons whose pleasures he covets, he would
be no better satisfied than he was with his
former condition. Many young persons think
that if they were but rich they would be
happy. They seem to forget that wealth
brings with it cares and anxieties more try
ing than poverty. The • contented peasant,
clad in - rustic garb, watching his gentle
flocks by day and carrying the innocent
lambs in his arms, or sitting at eventide be
neath the shady vine, whose frail tendrils
cling to his humble cot, listening to the
merry shouts of his rosy checked children,
or making the hills echo the strains of his
shepherd's pipe—is a thousand times hap
pier than the purple-clad king, who sits
upon the throne and sways the sceptre of
power, calls whole dominions his own, and
is surrounded by courtiers who await his
commands, and obey the dictates of his sov
ereign will. To the contented man, life
wears a cheerful aspect. The duties which
he is called upon to perform, he regards as
pleasures. He is not puffed up with vanity
by prosperity, nor does he ever complain
when tossed by the storms of adversity; but
through life
Contented with mercies, the donor adores,
And in calm resignation awaits for the time
Which shall toll his departure from Earth's rugged shores,
And usher him into a heavenly clime.
Your friend
PARNASSUS, July 4th.
Leo Kim Gomm—Nothing can be more
absurd than the idea that " looking guilty"
proves, guilt. An honest man charged with
crime is much more likely to blush at the ac
cusation. than the real offender, who is gen
erally prepared for the event, and. has his
face " ready made" for the occasion. The
very thought of being suspected of anything
criminal will bring the blood to an innocent
man's cheek in nine cases out of ten. The
most "guilty looking" person we ever saw
was a. man arrested for stealing a horse,
which - turned out to be his own property !
Boston Post.
rte... "Hello! Jim, what are you making?"
inquired a young friend passing by. "Why,
mother made apple-butter the other day, and
She don't like it, so I am making it back into
apples again."
sEir Tho dissipations that some persons
resort to to drown care, are like the curtains
that children in bed pull around them to keep
out the dark.
$1 50
. 75
. 50
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XIII.
I SEE it! You would ask me what I have
to say for myself for dropping the hammer
and taking up the quill, as a member of your
profession. I will be honest now and tell you
the whole stqry. I was transposed from the
anvil to the editor's chair by the genius of
machinery. Don't smile, friends ; it is even
so. I had stood and looked for hours on those
thoughtless iron intellects, those iron-fingered,
sober, supple automatons, as they caught up
a bale of cotton and twirled it in a twinkling
of an eye into a whirlwind of whizzing shreds,
and laid it at my feet in folds of snow-white
cloth, ready for the use of the most voluptu
ous antipodes. They were wonderful things,
those looms and spindles; but they could not
spin thoughts—there was no attribute of di
vinity in them, and I admired them nothing
more. They were excessively curious, but I
could estimate the whole compass of their
being and destiny in finger-power ; so I went
away, andleft them spinning—cotton.
One day I was tuning my anvil beneath a
hot iron, and busy with the thought that there
was as much intellectual philosophy in my
hammer as in any enginery a-going in mod
ern times, when a most unearthly scream
pierced my ears. I stepped to the door, and
there it was—the great iron horse. Yes, he
had come, looking, for all the world, like the
great dragon we read of in Scripture, har
nessed to half a living world, and just landed
on the earth, where he stood braying with
surprise and indignation at the "base use" to
which he had been turned. I saw the gigan
tic hexapod move with a power that made
the earth tremble for miles. I saw the army
of human beings gliding with the velocity of
wind over the iron track, and droves of cat
tle travelling in their stables at the rate of
twenty miles an hour toward the city slaugh
ter house. It was wonderful. The little
busy bee winged machinery of the cotton fac
tory dwindled into insignificance before it.—
Monstrous beast of passage and burden ! It
divorced the intervening distance, and wed
ded the cities together! But for its furnace
heat and sinews, it was nothing but a beast,
an enormous aggregation of horse power.—
And I went back to the forge with unimpair
ed reverence for the intellectual philosophy
of my hammer.
Passing along the street one afternoon, I
heard a noise in an old building, as of some
one puffing a pair of bellows. So, without
more ado, I stepped in, and then, in a corner,
of a rooni, I saw the chief d'ceuvre of all ma-S
chinery that has ever been invented since the
birth of Tubal Cain. In its construction it
was simple as a cheese press. It went with
a lever—with a lever longer, stronger than
that with which Archimedes promised to lift
the world.
EMI
For the Globe
"It is a printing-press," said a boy, stand
ing by the ink-trough with a careless turban
of brown paper on his head.
"A printing-press!" I queried musingly
to myself. "A printing-press I What do
you print ?" I asked.
" Print ?" said the boy, staring at me doubt
fully ; "why, we print thoughts."
"Print thoughts !" I slowly repeated after
him ; and we stood looking for a moment at
each other in mutual admiration—he in the
absence of_ an idea, and I in pursuit of' one.
But I looked at him the hardest, and he left
another ink spot on his forehead, from a pa
thetic motion of his left hand to quicken his
apprehension of his meaning.
" Why, yes," he reiterated in a tone of
forced confidence, as if passing an idea which
though having been current a hundred years,
might still be counterfeit, for all he could
show on the spot, "we print thoughts, to be
sure."
" But, my boy," I asked, in honest sober
ness, "what are thoughts, and how can you
get hold of them ?"
"Thoughts are what come out of people's
minds," he replied. "Get hold of them, in
deed ! Why, minds aren't nothing you can
get a hold of, nor thoughts either. All the
minds that ever thought, and all the thoughts
that minds ever made, would not make a ball
as big as your fist. Minds, they say, are just
like air ; you can't see them ; they don't make
any noise, nor have any color ; they don't
weigh any thing. Bill Deepent, the sexton,
says that a man weighs just as much when
his mind has gone out of him as he did be
fore. No, sir ; all the minds that ever lived
wouldn't weigh an ounce troy."
" Then how do you print thoughts ? If
minds are thin as air, and thoughts are thin
ner still, and make no noise, and have no
substance, shade, or color, and are like winds,
and more than the winds, are anywhere in a
moment, sometimes in heaven, and sometimes
on earth, and in the waters under the earth,
how can you see them when caught, or show
them to others 2"
Ezekiel's eyes grew luminous with a new
idea, and, pushing the ink roller proudly
across the metallic page of the newspaper,
he replied—
" Thoughts work and walk in things that
make tracks ; and we take them tracks and
stamp them on paper, or iron, wood, stone, or
what not. This is the way we print thoughts.
Don't you understand 2"
The pressman let go the lever, and looked
interrogatively at Ezekiel, beginning at the
patch on his stringless brogans, \ and follow
ing up with his eye to the top of the boy's
brown paper buff cap. Ezekiel comprehen
ded the felicity of his illustration, and wiping
his hand on his tow apron, gradually assum
ed an attitude of earnest exposition. I gave
him an encouraging wink, and so he went
on—
LEROY.
" Thoughts make tracks," he continued im
pressively, as if evolving a new phase of the
idea by repeating it slowly. Seeing - we as
sented to this proposition inquiringly, he
stopped to the type-case, with his eye fixed
admonishingly upon us. " Thoughts make
tracks," he repeated, arranging in his hand.
a score or two of metal slips, "and with these
ere letters we can take the exact impression
of every thought that ever went out of the
heart of human man ; and we can print it,
too," giving the inked form a blow of tri-
WHY I LEFT THE .A.NVIL.
BY ELIEUT BURRITT.
umph with his fist, "we can print it, too, give
us paper and ink enough, till the great round
earth is blackened around with a coverlid of
thoughts, as much like the pattern as two
peas."
Ezekiel seemed to grow an inch at every
word, and the brawny pressman looked first
at him and then at me with evident astonish
ment.
" Talk about the mind's living forever 1"
exclaimed the boy, pointing patronizingly at
the ground, as if minds were lying there in
capable of immortality until the printer
reached them a helping hand ; "why, the
world is brimful of live, bright, industrious
thoughts, which would have been dead, dead
as stone, if it hadn't been for boy's like me
who run the ink-rollers. Immortality, in
deed l Why, people's minds," he continued
with his imagination climbing into the pro
fanely sublime, "people's minds wouldn't be
immortal if it wasn't for the printers—at any
rate in this here planetary burying ground.
We are the chaps that manufacture immor
tality for dead men," he subjoined, slapping
the pressman graciously on the shoulder.
The latter took it as if dubbed a knight of
the legion of honor ; for the boy had put the
mysteries of his profession in sublime apoca r
lypse.
" Give us one good healthy mind," resumed
Ezekiel, "to think for us, and we will furnish
a dozen worlds as big as this with thoughts
to order. Give us such a man, and we will
insure his life ; we will keep him alive for
ever among the living. He can't die, no way
you can fix it, when once we have touched
him with these bits of inky pewter. Ile
shan't die nor sleep. We will keep his mind
at work on all the minds that come to live
here as long as the world stands."
"Ezekiel," I asked, in a subdued tone of
reverence, "will you print my thoughts, too?"
" Yes, that I will," ht replied, "if you will
think some of the right kind."
"Yes, that we will," echoed the pressman.
And I went home and thought, and Eze
kiel has printed my " thought tracks" ever
since.
Upon no class of persons, perhaps, does
the habitual reading of that branch of our
literature, denominated, by way of distinc
tion, "yellow covered," exert a more pernicious
influence than upon the young men connec
ted with our colleges and other institutions of
learning. We have heard it asserted by those
whose positions enable them to judge intelli
gently in this matter, that there. is scarcely
an instance on record where a young man,
who habitually and regularly peruses works
of fiction during his undergraduate course,
ever received that degree of mental discipline
which is necessary for a successful entrance
upon the great duties of life, and which it is
the aim of a collegiate course to furnish.—
And, indeed, it is hard to conceive how the
case could be otherwise ; for, besides the enor
mous waste of time, which is a necessary
consequence of any considerable indulgence
in novel reading,the mind, accustomed to
follow some sentimental hero or heroine
through all sorts of silly and unheard of ad
ventures,-and to revel amid scenes of fancied
pleasure and happiness, takes little delight
in attempting to grapple with the more pro
found truths of philosophy and mathematics,
even when it is not wholly incapacitated to do
so.
It is a lamentable fact, that at least half
of the young men who graduate each year at
our colleges, hardly possess even the rudi
ments of a sound and substantial education.
Many, after spending three or four years
within the walls of a university, possess, in
return for their time and money, little be
sides their "diploma," to which, certainly, in
our day, no great importance can be attached.
Now, all this may be the combined effect of
many causes, into which it is not our province
to inquire; but we think we hazard little in
saying that the evil in question may, to a very
great extent, be traced to the "popular nov
els," which form so important an element in
the composition of the student's libraries in
many of our colleges. And so long as our
young men are content to spend the precious
moments which ought to be devoted to the
acqusition of substantial knowledge, and to
fritter away the knowledge which God has
given them, in poring over books worse than
profitless, to the neglect of all that is useful
and instructive, just so long are we to expect
superficial thinkers, instead of profound
thinkers, men triflers, instead of urN.
We admit that it is very important that
the imagination be cultivated, and we are
quite willing to grant there may be, and un
doubtedly are, works of fiction which have
an elevating rather than degrading tendency,
and which are calculated to strengthen rather
than impair the intellect. But such- works,
we apprehend, are extremely rare. And the
direct tendency of nine-tenths of the popular
novels of the present day, is to inculcate false
views of life, and to corrupt instead of culti
vating the imagination.
And we would say to students, whose at
tention we wish, at this time, more particu
larly to arrest, that it is a most erroneous
idea to suppose that it is necessary for a young
man, while pursuing his academic course, to
become acquainted with the whole range of
general literature. Better, far better, to con
fine your attention to the text books, which
have been chosen for you . by your superiors
in knowledge and. experience—with perhaps
a very few well-selected volumes each term,
than to waste your precious hours over a con
fused. mass of "miscellaneous trash." The
elegant bindings and illuminated. covers of
this latter class of books, may serve as orna
ments to the shelves of your libraries, and
assist in- making a display on "commence
ment occasions," but their Contents are ill
calculated to furnish wholesome food for a
mind duly impressed with the value of time,
and the infinite importance of a thorough
preparation for the great duties which our
Creator designed us to perform.—Episcopat
Recorder.
Catnip, bruised and applied to the
wound, is a cure for the bite of a spider.
HUNTINGDON, PA., JULY 15, 1857.
Novel Reading.
-PERSEVERE.-
j . b g.
"Mayn't I stay, ma'am do anything
you give me ; cut wood, go for water, and do
your errands."
The troubled eyes of the speaker were fill
ed with tears. It was a lad that stood at the
outer door, pleading with a kindly looking
woman, who seemed to doubt the reality of
his intentions.
The cottage stood by itself on a black moor,
or what in Scotland would have been called
such. It was near the latter end of Septem
ber, and a fierce wind rattled the boughs of'
tlie — ady two naked trees near the house, and
fled with a shivering sound into the narrow
doorway, as if seeking for warmth at the
blazing fire within.
Now and then a snowflake touched with
its soft chill the cheek of the listener, or,
whitened the angry redness of the poor boy's'
benumbed hands.
The woman was evidently loth to grant the
boy's request ; and the peculiar look stamped
upon his features, would have suggested to
any mind an idea of depravity far beyond his
years.
...-z,put her woman's heart could not resist the
sorrow in those large, but by no means hand
some eyes.
"Come in, at any rate, till the good man
home. There, sit down by the fire ;
yl. look perishing with cold." And she
drew a rude lookin* chair up to the warmest
corner ; then, suspiciously glancing at the
child from the corner of her eyes, she con
tinued setting the table for supper.
Presently came the tramp of heavy shoes;
the door was swung open with a quick jerk,
and the " good man" presented himself wea
ried with labor.
A look of intelligence passed between his
wife and himself; he, too, scanned the boy's
face, with an expression not evincing satis
faction ; but nevertheless made 'him come to
the table, and then enjoyed the zest with
which he enjoyed his supper.
Day after day passed, and yet the boy beg
ged to be kept " only to-morrow ;" so the
good people after due consideration, conclu
ded that so long as he was so docile, and
worked so heartily, they would retain him.
One day in the middle of winter, a pedler,
fong accustomed to trade at the cottage, made
his appearance, and disposed of his goods, as
if he had been waited for.
"You have a boy out there, splitting wood,
I see," he said, pointing to the yard.
Yes ; do you know him ?"
- "I have seen him," replied the pedler,
"And where ? Who is he ? What is ?"
"A jail-bird ;" and the pedlar swung his
pack ovei his shoulder. "'That boy—young
as he looks—l saw in the court myself, and
heard his sentence. Ten months. Ile is a
hard one. You'd do well to look carefully
after him."
Oh 1 there was something so horrible in the
word 'jail;' the poor woman trembled as she
laid away the purchases; nor could she be
easy till she called the boy in, and assured
him that she knew the dark part of his his-
Ashamed,
to.
Ashamed, distressed, the child hung down
his head, his cheeks seemed bursting with
hot blood ; his lips quivered and anguish was
printed as vividly upon his forehead as if the
words were branded into the flesh.
" Well," he muttered, his whole frame re
laxing, as if a burden of guilt or joy bad just
rolled off, "I may as well go to ruin at once ;
there is no use of my trying to do better ; ev
erybody hates me, nobody cares for me ; I
may as well go to ruin at once."
" Tell me," said she who stood off far
enough for flight, if that should be necessary,
" how came you to go so young to that dread
ful place? Where was your mother, where?"
"Oh!" exclaimed the boy, with a burst of
grief that was terrible to behold ; "Oh 1
hasn't no mother ever since I was a baby.—
If I'd only had a mother," he continued, his
anguish growing more vehement, and the
tears gushing out of his strange looking grey
eyes; "I wouldn't have been bound out, and
kicked, and cuffed, and laid on to with whips;
I wouldn't have been saucy and got knocked
down, and ran away, and then stole because
I was hungry. Oh ! I haven't had no mother
since I was a baby."
The strength was all gone from the poor
boy, and he sunk on his knees sobbing great
choking sobs, and rubbing the hot tears away
with his knuckles. And did the woman
stand then unmoved ? Did she boldly bid
him pack up and begone—the jail bird ?
No, no, she had been a mother, and though
all her children slept under the cold clod in
the churchyard, she was a mother still.
She went up to that poor boy, not to hasten
him away, but lay her fingers kindly, softly
on-his head ; to tell him to look up, and from
henceforth to find in her a mother. Yes, she
even put her arms around the neck of that
forsaken, deserted child, she poured from her
heart sweet womanly words, words of coun
sel and tenderness.
Oh ! how sweet was her sleep that night ;
how soft her pillow. She had linked a poor
suffering heart to hers, by the most silken,
the strongest bands of love; she had plucked
some thorns from the path of a little sinning,
but striving mortal.
Did the boy leave her ?
Never I He is with her still, a vigorous,
promising, steady youth. The unfavorable
cast of his countenance has given place to an
open pleasing expression with depth enough
to make it. an interesting study. His foster
father is dead—his foster-mother aged and
sickly, but she knows no want. The once
poor out-cast is her only dependence, and no
bly does he repay the trust.
Ile.. A eotemporary . says he once heard a
minister puff a doctor an a prayer at a funer
al thuswise: "And in thy infinite providence,
oh Lord, not all the care and skillful atten
tion of her learned and experienced physi
cian has been able to save our sister from the
remorseless gram."
Ea"- Black pepper, dusted on cucumber,
melon, and other vines, when the dew is on,
is said to drive away the striped, bug, andwill
do no harm to the plants.
Editor and Proprietor.
11:)■za 5 , 1=1254 z * rz4109 in if' 16.44
We do not always know our best friends.
But experience sometimes teaches us, work
ing out for us conclusions very unlike those
we had previously entertained. In the his
tory of birds, similar examples are not want
ing. A writer of note says, After some
States had paid threepence a dozen for the
destruction of blackbirds, the consequence
was a total loss, in the year 1749, of all the
grass and grain, by means of insects, which
had flourished under the protection of that
law.' Another ornithologist, Wilson, com
putes that each red-winged black-bird de
vours, on an average, fifty grubs daily during
the summer season. Most birds live entirely
on worms and insects, and though some are
destructive to our cherries and other fruits,
the numbers of such are small, and these
propensities are to be offset by numerous and
valuable services which no other agencies
can perform.
The following descriptions may throw light
upon the treatment these birds have a right
to claim at our hands :
The Baltimore Oriole, a beautiful and well
known bird, called sometimes Gold-robin,
Hang-Bird, etc. It feeds chiefly on insects,
and. its services are of great value. They
visit our gardens for grubs only, and thus
protect our pea vines and other plants from
a destructive enemy.
The Red-winged Blackbird often arrives at
the North ere the snow has disappeared. It
feeds on grubs, worms and caterpillars, with
out inflicting any injury upon the farmer.—
Hence it does him a very important service.
The Cow Blackbird is less numerous than
the species just described. They follow our
cattle, and catch and devour the insects that
molest them. From this fact they derive
their name.
The Bice-Bunting, or Bob-o-link, is con
stantly employed in catching grasshoppers,
spiders, crickets, etc., and thus does good ser
vice. It is, however, said to do some injury
to grain,•especially at the South, and partic
ularly when they collect their young in flocks
preparatory to a flight toward their winter
quarters.
The Crow Blackbird is one of our early
visitors. While it devours immense numbers
of grubs, ete., it is also clearly proved that it
pulls up the corn. Southern farmers attempt
to diminish the amount of depredations, by
soaking their corn in Glaubers' salts, making
it unpalatable to the birds.
The American Crow devours every thing
eatable, without much apparent choice, whe
ther fruits, seeds, vegetables, reptiles, insects,
dead animals; &v.
The Cedarbird gathers caterpillars, worms,
etc., which it devours with an insatiable ap
petite. Our cherries and other fruits are not
spared, but are devoured, in their season, as
rapidly as are the canker-worms, and other
enemies of the trees, in their season. But
whatever injury they may thus inflict seems
irremediable, as their numbers can scarce
ly be diminished by any agency in our con
trol.
The King-bird lives wholly on insects and
worms, without any mischievous, unless it
be occasionally to devour honeybees. That
he has a taste for such food is pretty well es
tablished, though some deny it. [They
attack the drones, only.—Ed. Tel.]
The Cat-bird is constantly employed in de
vouring wasps, worms, etc., but does not al
ways spare our fruits. They devour of the
latter, however, much less than would the in
sects they destroy.
The Wood thrush lives on worms, beetles,
etc., and never commits depredations of
any kind. Their residence is much more
constant in the extreme South, than farther
north.
The Blue-bird confines himself to the de
struction of beetles, spiders, grubs, wireworms,
etc., and though they attack the sumac and
wild cherry, and other wild berries, they do
no injury to-the fruits or vegetables of the
garden.
The Golden-winged Woodpecker is reputed
as a fruit-stealer, but "with all its faults," it
is of great use to the horticulturist.
The Red-headed Woodpecker, like the for
mer, helps itself to fruits of all kinds, carries
off apples even in its bill; but this useful la
bor is also worthy of its hire; it does much
more good than evil.
The Downy Woodpecker, and perhaps some
other species, come under the same cate
gory as those species already described.
Influence of Temper on Health.
Excessive labor, exposure to wet and cold,
deprivation of sufficient quantities of necessa
ry and wholesome food, habitual bad lodg
ing, sloth and intemperance, are all deadly
enemies to human life ; but none of them are
so bad as violent and ungoverned passions.—
Men and woman hilve survived all these, and
at last reached an extreme old age; but it
may be safely doubted whether a single in
stance can be found of a man of violent and
irascible temper, habitually subject to storms
of ungovernable passion, who has arrived at
a very advanced period of life. It is there
fore a matter of the highest importance to ev
ery one desirous to preserve "a sound mind
in a sound body, so that the brittle vessel of
life may glide down the stream of time
smoothly and securely, instead of being con
tinually tossed about amidst rocks and shoals
which endanger its existence, to have a spe
cial care, amidst all the vicissitudes and tri
als of life, to maintain a quiet possession of
his own spirit. ,
LIME.-A farmer commences with the nse
of lime on his soil; the first Beason he sees an
improvement; he continues its use for some
two or three years, and finds but little, if any
perceptible change in his crops ; he now cries
humbug, this use of lime. Now the:truth is,
that in his first application, the land
. was
rather deficient in hme only; but in not us
ing other manure in connection; other sub
stances in the soil were exhausted; potash or
soda was now wanted, and hence the constant
use of lime only for a series of years will in
jure and deteriorate the soil;
ta...lt ruins silver to wash it with soap
suds. So says a well-known silver-smith..
The following,- together with the well;
known sermon on " The harp of a Thou.' ,
sand Strings," is published in England as
veritable specimen of the pulpit oratory of
the backwoods of the United States:
" Beloved breethring, I'm the MiiiA What
preached the sermon which hits bbeti printed
in the papers, from the tex, And he played
on a harp uv a thousand stringssperrits uv
just men made perfeck.' I remit as well say
I don't take pride in things ut thht sort, for;
in the language uv my tet for tu day, I'm
an orful sinner—the chief anion g ten thou
sand, and. the one altogetbbr luvly. Thoni
is the words which you'll find in Genesee.--z,
I'm gwine to preach without .notes, 'knee I
can't rite, and 'kase I couldn't read it of I
could. My notes are bank notes, uv which
I have a pocket fun, and notes uv hand;
which I shall give to our 'Squire tu collect;
when.l gets back tu Indianny, art
orful sinner, the chief among ten thousand;
and the one altogether luvly.
This tex, my breethring; can be divided
into three pieces-,---fust—second—thud.
NO. 4.
Fist: I'm an orful sinner.' That means
you indiwidually, not me personally. Thar
ar more sins nor one. It's a sin to drink
water, and catch the ague, whar a little
sperrit will keep in good health ; 'tis a sin to
steal, unless you steal awhile away ;"tis a
sin to swear, unless you swear and sin not;
'tis a sin to lie, unlessyou lie low and keep
dark. Pride is sin. Sum is proud of their
books ; now I ain't, though . I've the gift and.
grit to speak in. Sum is proud of their
larnin' ; thank God I've none to be proud of
-for I'm an orful sinner, the chief among
ten thousand, and the one altogether luvly.
Second: Chief among ten thousand.
Thar is different kind of chiefs. Thar's the
mischief, the chief sinners, and the Cayuga
Chief. The mischief means the Old Boy,
what keeps the fire office below, and lets
poor folks in the cold here on airth. The
chief of sinners means you, you wharf rats,
arter de melons, amfiebus animals, what live
here about the canawl. Look at them ere
hosses rise up in judgment agin you, high
uv bone, low uv flesh, tuff hides, and short
memories ; hear the crows cawing, fur they
know that whar the canawl is thar will the
crows be gathered. The Cayuga Chief is a
feller what pitches into my frens the sperit-:
dealers, and my other frens the State Prison
officers. He is uv your cold water men who
goes for the prohibition law what Gouvernor
Seymour vetoed. If 'tvvarn't Sunday I shud
hooray for Seymour—for I'm an orful sinner,
the chief among ten thousand, and the one
altogether luvly.
Thurdly: Altogether luvly.' Different
things is luvly. When my boat swims like
a duck, I say she am luvly—when my wife
gives me no curtain lectures, (she has the
gift of tongue as well as myself,) I say she
am luvly—when the wind don't blow, and it
don't rain, and it don't nothin, I say the day.
am luvly, for I'm an orful sinner, the chief
among ten thousand, and the one altogether
luvly.
In conclusion, brcethring, if that big pile
uv stuns was one stun what a big stun it
would be ; ef you my breethring were one
bruther, what a big bruther you'd be, and ef
my big brother should fling that big sturt
into the canawl, what a great big splash that
would make—for I'm an- orful sinner, the
chief among ten thousand, and the one alto
gether luvly.
"My breethering, I want to give you no
tice there will be some carryings on at this
place next Sunday afternoon, at half-past
four, when I shall prove the doctrine that uv
all the shells in the world the hard shells am
the thickest and the best—for I'm an or - f 4
sinner, the chief among ten thousand, and
the one altogether luvly.
"I shall prove that book larnin' ain't uv
no use, my breethering, that writin' sermons
and getting a celery for urn is a sin that de
serves indemnification—for I'm an odd - sin
ner, the chief among ten thousand, and the
one altogether luvly.
" Breethring, let us liquor, and then go
hum, remembering the words of the profit
`Be sure you're right, then go ahead."
The following item orsensible advice is ta
ken,from "Hall's Journal of Health:"
Dress children warm—woolen flannel next
their persons during the whole year. By ev-'
ery consideration protectthe extremeties well:
It is an ignorent barbarism which allows a
child to have bare arms, and legs, and feet,
even in summer. The circulation should be
invited to the extremeties: warmth does that
—cold repels it. It is at the hands and feet
we begin to die. Those who have cold hands
and feet are never well. Plenty of warmth,
plenty of substantial food and ripe fruits, and
plenty of sleep, and plenty of joyous outdoor
exercise would save millions of children an
nually.
When children have the misfortune to be
placed in draughts of cold air, they lose their
heat very readily, and with great difficulty
regain it. It cannot be too strongly impress=
ed upon mothers and nurses, that a tempora
ry chill is followed by a permanent effect,
and that not only does the chill effect that
particular part of the body to which the de=
pressing agent is applied, but, in a short time,
the temperature of the entire body becomes
reduced. It is thus that thin or wet shoes,'
unsufficient or wet clothing, or - wet sheets, or
a damp room, produce mischief, disease or
death.
LEAF MArzuns.—The best manure, says Lie
big, (Humuz) for any plant, is the decompos
ed loaves and substance of its own species ;
hence when the small onions, or scullions, as
they are left upon the bed, are turned under
the soil, they greatly benefit the succeeding, '
crop. Leaf manure is not, according to him,'
an entirely vegetable substance, but rather
mineral vegetable, as they contain large
quantities of earthy matter. An annual
dressing of salt, in moderate quantities, sown
broadcast over the whole garden early in .
spring, is beneficial, destroying the germs of
insects and acting on the foliage of plants, re
taining moisture, &c. Ten bushels to the'
acre will answer the purpose.
Ser - There is a woman, youthful and quite'
handsome, who visits the Baltimore peniten
tiary every day, and converses with her hus- .
band an hour or more through the bars. Yet
this man is serving out a time of years for
having cut her throat (his wife's) and inflic
ted several severe stabs in her breast, from
the effects of -which her life was for a long
time despaired of. What an evidence of love
and constancy.
ItErA Gentleman of the name or Marten .,
married a lady of the name of Martin, and
it was Rmraingly said that he knocked - her
eye (i) out on• the day of their marriage:
* Some-sigus are very anspicions.• 'Fof
instance: " Steele, Dry Goode:'
Another Hard-Shell Sermon:
Something Sensible.
Health of Children.
12=7