The globe. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1856-1877, September 09, 1857, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    TERMS OF THE GLOBE.
Pea annum in advance . v. 50
Six months 75
Three months 50
A failure to notify a discontinuance at the expiration of
the term subscribed for will be considered a new engage
ment.
TERMS OF ADVER,TISINO.
Pour lines or less, 1 I$
25 nSeon. '2 do. 3 do.
A.
rti $
37 3 .....$ 50
One square, (12 lines,) 60 75 1 00
Two squares, • I 00 ' ' 1 50 2 00
Three squares, ' '•1 50 225 300
Over three week'and less than three mouths, 25 cents
per square lot 'each insertion.
3 months. 0 months. 12 months.
Six lines or less,... ........ ....$1 50 $3 00 $5 00
One square', 3 00 5 00 7 00
Two squares, - 5 00 8 00 10 00
Three squares, ' 7 00 10 00 15 00
Pour squares, 9 00 • 13 ° 00 20 00
Miff a column, 12 05 10 00 24 00
One column, "0 00 30 00 50 00
Professional and Business not exceeding four lines,
tine year, --' $3 04
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;
aieltd Alottn!.
, (From the New York Evening Post.]
NOBODY'S SONG. • •
tSwift never wrote anything better' in verse than the
ollowing lines from an unknown correspondent.]
I'm thinking just now of Nobody,
And all that Nobody's done,
For I've a passion for Nobody,
-That Nobody else would own;
I bear the name of Nobody,
Yor from Nobody I sprung ;
And I sing the praise of Nobody,
As Nobody, mine has song.
In life's young morning Nobody
To mo was tender and dear ;"
And my cradle was rocked by Nobody,"
And Nobody was ever near;
I was petted and praised by Nobody,
And Nobody brought me up,
And when rwas hungry, Nobody
Gave me to dine or to sup.
I went to school to Nobody,
And Nobody taught me to rend;
I played in the street with Nobody,
And to Nobody ever gave heed;
I recounted my tale to Nobody,
For Nobody wan willing to hear
And my heart it clung to Nobody,
And Nobody shed a tear.
IV.
And when I grew older, Nobody
Gave me a helping turn
And by the good aid of Nobody
I began my living to earn;
And hence I courted Nobody,
And said Nobody's I'd be,
And asked to marry Nobody,
-And Nobody married me
Tints I trudge along with Nobody,
And Nobody cheers niy life,
lied I havo it love for Nobody
Which Nobody bas for his wife;
So here's it health to Nobody,
For Nobody's now "in town,"
And rye a passion"for Nobody,
That Nobody else 'would own.
41thresting
An Old Man's Thoughts
To the attentive observer,:nature present s
sublime subjects for reflection. All laws
seem to ha,rnionise—all ends seem to meet in
the one word, " Good." God's laws are in
finitely good, infinitely perfect, and the trans
gressor finds them also infinitely just. lie
who escapes God's wrath, so-called, is he who
lives in harmony with God's laws. Let no
man think he can crawl behind his own ig
norance , and shield himself from perfect
justice y , lie may not have heard of gravint
tion;---but the falling rock will mash him.'lic
may not have heard' .of arsenic, yet if intro
duced into.his system, it will surely kill him.
The-bite of the snake is as poisonous unto the
ignorant man 'as unto the most learned.
There is no escaping effects, if we shim not
their cause.
Let every man who suffers, examine well
his own amount of knowledge, and see if the
knowledge of his cause of suffering did exist
within him before he suffered. If did, he
is guilty of ' wilfully violating that which is
good; if he did knot, let him remember that
Ignorance is.a. harder master than wisdom.
The - follies-of south are followed, a uccitabl V
followed, by the pains of age. Could wis
dom ever be gained were this not so? How
can man - learn save through his own ex
perience ? ' Ile may he called learned, but
wisdom and: experience always go hand in
hand. •
Blessed. is the young man who looks at all
things as the perfect work of a perfect Hand.
Would the young constantly bear in mind
that they are doomed to ago and death, their
whole lives would be more serious, more
thoughtful, and truly would they be more
hopeful. The expression, doomed, must not
he applied in a gloomy sense, for
,the aged
man's joys are more pure and elevated; yes,
far more holy than the passing things of
youth can ever give.
He has learned, if true unto himself, that
the end of all is "Good." Even as God," He
saw everything that He had made, and, be
hold, it was very good." And he looks for
ward daily to the time when' his own earthly
end shall be "very good" in the sight of his
Maker. Peacefully happy. He has over
comer the desires of his animal nature and
henceforth there is a spiritual treasure laid
up for him, inexhaustible in its measure and
ever increasing in
. purity.
Let no man think that God's laws only
punish. They invariably reward. They are
just—perfectly just. He who earns, receives
his,,pay; he who does nothing, pays himself,
as truly nothing as does the greatest laborer
receive the richest reward. •
There is no wisdom but in experience;
rc
member that. lie who labors not with his
body; enjoys his rewarif-L-a weak frame, weak
digestion, weak blood and weak thoughts ; it
must be so. He who labors with his body,
keeps his mind pure and exercises it.well,
enjoys his reward t—a strong body, free from
paina strong mind, and a strong power of
thinking. • This must be so, for effect follows
cause inevitably.
Men rash against God's laws with great
imeunity. - They •do not voluntarily hold
their hands in the fire; yet how often will
some—alas:too many—hold in their hands a
consuming -fire which chars the very roots
and fibres of their soul! -How many crave
daily the intoxicating draught, which in effect
almost droWns their soul! We are weak,
though at times we feel so strong. Our de
sires are good' if rightly governed; and let
us not blame our Maker for the good penalty
he has placed upon their violation.
Se'-' It appears from a report in circula
tion, that it is very unpleasant to be born in
a certain house in Chest43r county: Since
the year 1794; there have been five executions
for capital offences-in that county. Edward
Williams, who was hanged in 1839, and
George Pharoah, who was executed in 1851,
were -both horn in a.•house which stands
about - a mile from West'Chester. Samuel In
" Tana formerly of Greensburg, who was re
cently hung at Rock Island, Illinois, for the
murder of his wife, also first saw the • light
in this. unlucky house. •
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL, XIII.
My Cruelty to my Rela:tivis.
I had an aunt coming to visit me for the
first time since my , marriage, and I- don't
know what evil genius prompted the wicked
ness (I acknowledge, with tears in my eyes,
that it was such,) which I perpetrated to
wards my wife and my ancient relative.
"My dear," said I to my wife on the day
before my aunt's arrival, " you know my
Aunt Mary is coming to-morrow ; well, I for
got to Mention a rather annoying circumstance
with regard to her. She's very deaf ; and,
although' she can hear my voice, to which she
is accustomed, in its ordinary tones, yet you
will be obliged to speak extremely loud in
oilier to be heard. It will be rather inconve
nient, but I know you will do everything in
your power to make her stay agreeable."
Mrs. S. announced her determination to
make herself heard, if possible.
I then went to John Thomas, who loves a
joke as well as any person I know of, told
him to be at my house 4t six P. M., on the
following evening, - and felt comparatively
nappy
I Went to the railrOad station with a car
riage, the next evening, and when I was on
my way home I said : "My dear aunt, there
is one rather annoying infirmity that Amelia
has, which I forgot to mention before. She's
very deaf; and, altliOugh she can hear my
voice, to which she is accustomed, in its ordi
nary tones, yet you will be obliged to speak
extremely loud. in order to be heard. I'm
sorry for it."
Aunt Mary, in the goodness of her heart,
protested that she rather liked speaking loud,
and to do so would afford her great pleasure.
The carriage drove up—on the steps wits
my wife—at the window was John Thomas,
with a face as utterly solemn as if he had bu
ried all his relatives that afternoon.
I handed out my aunt—she ascended the
steps.
" I am delighted to see you," shrieked my
wife, and the policeman on the opposite side
of the street started, and my aunt nearly fell
down the steps.
" Kiss me, my dear," howled my aunt ; and
the hall lamp clattered, and the windows
shook as with fever and ague. I looked at
the window, John had disappeared. Human
nature could stand it no longer. I poked my
head into the carriage, and went into strong
convulsions.
When I entered the parlor my wife was
helping Aunt Mary to take off her bonnet and
cape, and there sat John, with his face of
woe.
Suddenly, " Did you have a pleasant jour
ney ?" went off my wife, like- a pistol, and.
John Thomas rather jumped to his feet."
" Rather dusty," was the response, in a
war whoop; and so the conversation contin
ued.
The neighbors for streets around must have
heard it ; when I was in the third story of
the building, I heard every word plainly.
In the course of the evening, my aunt took
occasion to say to me—
" How loud your wife speaks! Don't it
hurt her ?"
.I told. her all deaf persons talked loudly,
and that my wife, being used to it, was not
affected by the exertion, and that Aunt Mary
was-getting along very nicely with her.
Presently, my wife said, softly, "Alf., how
very loud your aunt talks."
" Yes," said I, " all deaf persons do.—
You're getting along with her finely ; she
hears every word you say." And 1 rather
think she did.
Elated by their success at being understood,
they went at it, hammer and tongs, till every
thing on. the mantel-piece clattered again, and
I was seriously afraid of a crowd collecting
in front of the house.
But the end was near. My aunt, being of
an investigating turn of mind; was desirous
of finding out whether the exertion of talk
ing so loud was not injurious to my wife. 'So
said she, in an unearthly hoot—for her voice
was not as musical as it was -when she was
young,
"Doesn't talking so loud strain your lungs ?"
"Itls an exertion," shrieked my wife.
" Then why do you do it?" was the answer
ing scream.
" Because,—because,—you can't hear if I
don't," squealed my wife.
"Whati" said my aunt, fairly rivalling a
railroad whistle, this tune.
I - began to think it time to evacuate the
premises ; and, looking round and seeing
John gone, I stepped into the back parlor,
and there he lay flat on his back, with his
feet at a right angle to his body, rolling from
side to side, with his fists poked into his ribs,
and a most agonized expression of counten
ance, but not uttering a Sound.
I immediately and involuntarily assumed
a similar attitude, and I think that, from the
relative position of our boots and heads, and
our attempts to restrain our laughter, apo
plexy must have inevitably ensued, if a hor
rible groan, which John gave vent to, in. his
endeavor to repress his risibility, had not be
trayed our hiding place.
In rushed my wife and aunt, who, by this
time, comprehended the joke; and such a
scolding as I then got, I never got before, and
I hope never to get again.
I know not what the end would have been,
if John, in his endeavors to appear respect
ful and sympathetic, had not given vent to
such a diabolical noise, sometimes between a
groan and a horse laugh, that all gravity was
upset, and we screamed in concert.
BAROMETER.—The Tribune gives the fol
lowing method for constructing ono at a cost
of only a few cents :
" Dissolve some camphor in alcohol and
throw into the solution some soda; the cam
phor will be precipitated in snowy flakes ;
collect these by passing the mixture through
a filter, and put them in. a vial with clear
alcohol, in 'which as much camphor as it
would take has been dissolved. Cork it,
place it where it will not be disturbed, ex
amine it every morning and night."
kErßore pleasing than dew-drops that
sparkle upon the roses, are tears that pity
gathers upon the cheek of beauty.
Less Known Reasons for Well Known
• Truths.
The longer the beam of a ploW, the less
power is required to draw the plow; because
the beam is a lever, through which the poiver
is exerted, and, by extending the beam the
long,arm of the lever is lengthened, and the
leverage is thereby increased. The same is
true of inany other implenients and toolS—
such as spades, pitchforks, wheelbarrows,
planes, Screw-drivers, augers, gimlets, &c.
The greater the diameter of the wheels of
a carriage, the less power it requires to over
come the inequalities of a road; both be
cause the leverage is increased by lengthen
ing the .spokes or radii of the wheels, which
are the long arnis of the levers, whereby-the
power is exerted, and because the steepness
or abruptness of the obstructions presented
to the wheels is lessened by the greater cir
cumference of the. wheels. - But there is a
near limitcto thnsize of the wheels, beyond
which no advantage is gained by increasing.
For when .the axles, of the wheels become
higher thauthe point of draught on the ani
mal, a portion of the power exerted merely
adds to the weight, or pressure, of the car
riage upon'the ground; and the portion thus
lost increases with , the increased height of
the axle above the horizontal line of draught.
Besides, the increasing weight of enlarged
wheels soon more than counteracts the ad
vantages gained by increasing their diameter.
More carriages meet than overtake a pe
destrian, on a road ; simply because the
length of road offering the opportunity to
meet, is the sum of the distance passed over
by the opposite travellers, while the length of
road offering the opportunity to overtake, is
only the difference of the distance passed over
by the, pedestrian and the drivers. The
chances in the one case aro reckoned by the
sun, and in the other - case by the dVereitee
of the speed, of the walker and the rider.
The breezes in - the groves, on a still day,
are.explained by .the trunks, branches, and
leaves of the trees offering the obstruction of
their opposing, surface to whatever motion
the air may have,, thereby simply causing a
greatet' velocity through the- Splices between
them.
:Winds produce cold in several ways. The
act of blowing . implies the descent upon, and
motion -over the earth, of colder air i to occupy
the, room of that which -it displaces. It also
increases, the evaporation of moisture from
the earth, and thus conveys away consider
able heat. This increased evaporation, and
the mixture of warm and cold air, usually
produce a condensation of vapors in the at
mosphere ; hence the formation of clouds, and
-the consequent detention of_the heat brought
by the rays of the sun. And whenever air
in motion is colder than the earth, or any
,bodies - with which-it comes in contact, a por
tion of their heat is imparted to the air.
" All signs of rain fail in a dry time ;"
" wet begets more wet." There is real phi
losophy in these proverbs. In .a dry time,
comparatively little evaporation can take
place from the parched earth, and the atmos
phere becomes- but slowly charged with
moisture—the source of rain. In a wet time
evaporation goes on rapidly from the satura
ted earth, and soon overcharges the atmos
phere with moisture.
The cold moderates immediately premed
ing a fall of snow; because the vapor in the
atmosphere, in the act of congealing into
snow, parts with many degrees of heat, which
before were latent, and which aro at once
imparted to the surrounding atmosphere.
The same is true in respect to the conden
sation of vapor in a rain; but the amount of
latent heat thereby made sensible is much
less than in the act of freezing, and it is
generally compensated by the loss of beat in
the evaporation taken place from the earth
after the rain falls. During the fall both of
rain and snow, the atmosphere usually be
comes gradually colder because the source of
heat derived from the sunshine is, for the
time, cut off, and therefore does not supply
the loss by evaporation and radiation from
the earth. Rain and snow are also -usually
accompanied by wind, a consumer of heat.
It is less tiresome to walk than. to stand
still a given length of time ;
.for in- walking,
each set of Muscles is resting half of the time,
but when standing still, the muscles are con
tinually exerted. The exertions of the mus
cles in the effort of walking is not twice as
great as in standing still ; hence, the former
is not equal to the double continuation of the
latter.
A considerable quantity of food, taken at
one time, into the stomach, is more readily
digested than a very small quantity; be
cause, in the former case, the food coming
into - contact with the entire inner surface of
the stomach, excites the action of the organ,
and occasions the secretion of gastric fluid
ordinarily sufficient for digesting; out in the
latter case there is not enough food in the
stomach to excite its action. This accounts
for the fact often affording a, matter of sur
prise, that persons are 'frequently made very
ill by taking into the stomach a very small
quantity of food, when it is remarked that
the same persons have frequently taken much
larger quantities of the same kinds of food
with impunity.
The fur or hair of an animal effectually
protects it from cold, not so much by cover
ing the body and. shutting in the heat, as by
preventing the. circulation of air around it,
so that the heat cannot be rapidly convoyed
away. And the arrangement of hairs per
pendicularly, or nearly so„ on the surface of
the body, by the law of reflection, permits the
radiation of but very little heat from the
body.
The human system, in its vital or muscular
power, is very - analogous to an electric ma
chine. Dampness dispels the force of both,
apparently in the same way. Hence the de
bilitating effect of hot weather, caused prin
cipally by excessive perspiration.. The
quantity of perspiration can be greatly less
ened by refraining from unnecessary drink
ing. Any one can soon school himself to the
requirement of several times less of liquid
than he is usually accustomed to drink, by
taking only a, small quantity at once, and re
peating it only as often as thirst is folt.--The
reit and the Lever.
HUNTINGDON, PA., SEPTEMBER 9, 1857.
-PERSEVERE.-
Perseverance Under:Difficulties
How frequently do we find, in reviewing
the past, that what we once regarded as great
afflictions were really great blessings! Mer
cy is often disguised in the formS of tempta
tion, trial, danger; and disaster.. Difficulties
which beset our pathway of' life are essential
to develop our powers. Obstacles that seem
insurmountable call out the latent energies
of the mind, and losses and misfortunes are
often the only means which can teach us the
great truths, a knowledge of which is' indis
pensable to our full maturity and highest use
fulness. -
The child who travels up to manhood on
an even road, who' has always ' sailed on
smooth waters, 'and - who
. never has :been
taught to "buffet the waves of outrageous for=
tune, is within hiniself passive and power
less. He has no resources when the temp
ests of life come upon him; he has no cour
age nor self sustaining energy to resist the
winds of adversity: Like a ripe which . has
groWn up in a dark place; secluded' alike
from sunshine and storm, he may be fair
and comely, but he is frail and useless:
Some years since, as we were looking
around for a porter to take a basket of fruit
—a bushel of blackberries—from the market
to our "old folks at home," a tall, 'awkward,
green looking Yankee boy, of sixteen or
eighteen summers, solicited the job. 'We ob
jected to employing 'hid', aiid assigned two
reasons; the burden was too great for him to
carry by hand, and we could not afford to
pay him the value of such' services. The
cartman would take it along for a shilling.
Ile 'would not be put' off so. Ile would
carry it for'a shilling, and be very thankful
for the privilege! This brought matters to
an explanation. He had just come to town.
The sharpers had. outwitted. him, and he had
lost all has money. But instead of bellowing
about it like a great calf, or blubbering like
a" greater booby, or begging around like a
JohnVainaman, he went to work like a man.
He dienot banter about wages but took what
was 'offered. He shouldered our basket,
drudged a full mile through the hot sun and
dusty streets, sweating enough to cure an or
dinary rheumatism, received his pay,
".ex
pressed his gratitue, as he had agreed to do,-
and returned to his post.
It is needless -to Write that boy's history
any farther. Ile has -"come to something,"
or will. All the help he requires is " letting
alone severely,"
"Another ease worth recording occurred a
few days since.
A young Kontlickian, who had started
froth Louis 'or this city, not long since,
was robbed at Buffalo of all his money and
his baggage check; he started then to walk
the balance of his journey, but his shoes gave
out, and he took his chance to work his way
on a freight train of the Erie Road. Here
his hat blew off and was lost, and at Ilor
nellsville his coat was stolen. 'When laSt
seen he was tending hitherward, on foot,
nearly naked, but very determined.
Our Yankee friend has found his equal.—
Kentucky is bound to make his mark in due
time. Meanwhile we commend these exam
ples to all young men as illustrations of the
maxim that, perseverance under difficulties
is the way to make difficulties subservient
to our best good hereafter.—[Life Illustra
ted.
Disobedient, Wilful, Lawless Children.
No form in which human depravity, vice
or folly usually present themselves, is to us
more repulsive, than that which meets our
eyo when we accidentally witness some in
stance of stubborn disobedience, and wilful
ness in a young person of either sex. Hap
pily girls are not so often of this repulsive
character as boys, or else their manifesta
tions of it are a little less open, bold, or vio
lent.
This most disagreeable form of human de
pravity—this spirit of disobedience and dis
regard of all authority,' is by no means un
common. Every reader of this can recall
some strikingly repulsive instance of it, we
may presume. Ask the teachers of our
common schools, and they will ..testify that
this spirit of insubordination and lawless
ness is a marked or prominent feature in the
character of many boys ; and those who
have " boarded round," and have witnessed
the unveiled scenes of domestic life in the
families whence their pupils came, have in
formed us that in many families in which
they have temporarily boarded, they have
been the unwilling witnesses of painful
strugglesbetween mothers and their chil
dren: the former ordering, threatening, scold
ing, fuming, and sometimes inflicting pas
sionate blows, and the latter sullenly disre
garding all commands, whether enforced by
coaxing or threatening, and finally coming
off conquerors by a silent stubbornness, or
an explosive "I dont want to j " or "No, I
won't.'
How comes it to pass that the homes and
the schools and the social intercourse of the
world, aro so infested with this disposition
to rebel against the authority of parents and
teachers and others, and to insist stubbornly
on one's own will and one's own way? The
root of. this noisome, pestilential weed is to
be found in the foolish fondness and unwise
indulgences of mothers while their children
are yet very . young. Requests and com
mands are given very frequently without
being enforced,. The child discovers that it
may do just as it pleases with perfect impu
nity, and this spirit - of doing its own will,
and having its own way, grows with the
days, and months, and years, in which it
finds occasions of indulgence.
If the above is a most-frightful cause of
wilfulness and stubborn disobedience in
children, then the mode of cure or prevention.
is manifest. Let the parent give no com
mands which she does not intend to enforce.
Let the first manifestations of a spirit of re
sistance or disobedience be sternly; firmly,
but not passionately . subdued. Never let a.
child conquer, for it will not cease , to crave
for similar victories. Let your commands
be wise and right; and never tolerate the
slightest disobedience. A. B. A.—Country
Gentromait.
Young man, speak kindly to your mother,
and courteously, tenderly of her. But a lit
tle time, and you shall see her no more for
ever. Her eye is dim,.her form is bent, and
her shadoW falls toward the grave. Others
may love you fondly; bUt never again while
time is yours, shall any one's love be to you
as that of your old, trembling, weakened
mother has been.
Through helpless infancy her throbbing
breast was your safe protection and support;
in wayward, testy boyhood, she bore patiently
with your thoughtless rudeness; she pursued
you safely through a legion of ills and mala
dies.
ffer hand bathed your, burning brow, or
moistened your parched lips ; her eyes light
ed up the darkness of nightly 'vigils, watch
ing sleepless 'by your side as none but her
could watch. 0, speak not her name lightly,
for you cannot live so many years as would
suffice to thank her fully. 'Thiough reckless
and impatient youth, she is your counsellor
and. solace. To a bright manhood she guides
your steps to improvement ; nor ever for
sakes nor forgets. Speak gently, then, and
reverently of, your mother; and when you,
too, shall• be - old, it shall in some degree
lighten the remorse which shall be yours for
other sins, to know that never wantonly.
have you outraged the respect due to your
aged. mother.
We notice in many of Our exchange's the
curious application of the word "luck" and
"lucky" which to the thinker must at once
afford, 'by such ridiculous
_application, food
for merriment. Examples of the followinc ,
kind have recently drawn our attention to
this subject:
In New Orleans a man fell from, the mast
of a vessel into the river, was drowned, and
carried home when his widow exclaimed :
" Oh, wasn't be lucky in not breaking his
neck, and making an ugly corpse of him
self!"
We see in another Paper that a Mr.
White, living in Venice, Pa.,
was recently
murdered - in his own bed by some who
wished to get his money. The editor adds,
that " luckily, Mr. White deposited his mon
ey in the bank the day before;" so Mr.
White was lucky in losing nothing - but his
life. .
In Ohio a house was not long ago set fire
to, adn a Mrs. Roberts consumed among the
ruins while asleep. Mr. Roberts was away
from home that-nig,ht, and the reporter says
very nitifely, "lucky - for Mr. It. be did not
sleep at home that night, for then he might
have further .cause of sorrow by sharing the
fate of Ms poor lady."
We find another instance of a negro while
taking home his fashionable mistress' new
bonnet, gets run over and killed. The bon
net is uninjured, and the lady exclaims,
" well, it is lucky he saved my new bonnet."
The bonnet was worth about $2O, and the
negro who was killed was worth perhaps
$OO.
Tho following is to good to by lost. We
clip it 'from an exchange paper, and respect
fully call the attention to it of certain per
sons - who feel disposed to spread in. the
'newspaper line:
A young man who ardently desired - wealth,
was visited by his Satanic majesty, who
tempted him to promise his soul for eternity,
if he could bo supplied on this earth with
ap. the - money he could use. • The bargain
was coneluded—tho devil was to supply the
money, and was at last to have the soul, un
less the young man could spend more money
than the devil could furnish. Years passed
away—the man married, was extravagant in
his living, built palaces, speculated widely—
lost and gave away fortunes, and yet his cof
fers were always full. He turned politician,
and bribed his way to power and fame, with
out reducing his pile' of gold. He became
filibuster,' and fitted out ships and ar
mies, but, his banker honored all his drafts.
Ho went to St. Paul to live, and paid the
usual rates of interest for 'all the money ho
could borrow, but though they devil made
wry faces when he came to pay the bills, yet
they were all paid. One expedient after
another failed—the devil counted the time,
only two years, that ho must wait for the
soul, and mocked the efforts of the despair
ing man. One more trial was resolved upon
—the man started a newspaper ! The devil
growled at the bill at the end of the first
quarter, was savage in six months, melan
choly in nine, and broke, "dead broke," at
the end of the year. .So the newspaper went
down, but the soul was saved.
If the dignity of things may he measured
by their importance to mankind, there is
nothing, perhaps, which can rank above the
mechanical arts. In fact they maybe called
the lever, the fulcrum and the power which
moves the world. They do not want the
"whereupon to stand," as did Archimides;
they have a sufficient foundation in them
selves.
What gives to civilized. nations their supe
riority over the savage? It is chiefly - me
chanic arts. By them the beautiful and con
venient mansion is substituted for the rude
and uncomfortable. hut; and "purple and
fine linen" supply the wardrobe in place of
the skins of wild animals. They are the
foundation of nearly all the improvements
and comforts of life, and further, we may say
the glory and grandeur of the world. By
them the farmers plough the land, and by
thorn the mariner ploughs the ocean—the
monarch is adorned with his crown 'and the
peasant is clad , in comfortable. garments; by
them the table is spread, the bed is decked,
and the parlor is - furnished. To them the.
poet owes the perpetuationof.his fame. Ho
mer sings and Caesar triumphs in all ages.—
Through them we are instructed by the wis
dom of Plato, and charmed by the- eloquence
of Cicero. Through them we admire the Jus
tice of Aristides and the.heroism of Leonidas.
Editor and Proprietor.
Speak Kindly to your Mother.
Ideas of Luck
Row the Devil lost.
The Mechanic.
, Setting Timothy Fieldsi
The following sensible and praeticadired=
tions for setting timothy fields date find iii
the American. Farmer; and as the in.f4ima
tion is just now seasonable, we transfer it td
our columns with our full endorseritent z .
, If you
assuresetting a oth meadow
we wish to you of this tim triith y
:—it is of
waste of time, labor and money; to itttetnpt
to grow it on any but a fertile soil; Without
heavy manuring; This your 0i4944 sense
will tell you is the only rdtinnal view of the
subject. A meadow sot in timothy, is des ;
tined to remain in that grass for, say, five
years at least: It is said to be a seven yearti
grass, but as mdadows ,are -treated.-.in.car
country they never last that long: . If, how-.
:
ever, they were; every' second year; to
dressed and harrowed, they not only
last during o•
the lonest period named, but
continue afford profitable crops of grass:—
But, if unaided by such biennial treatment;
as all its annual products areearried off, and
each abstracts from the earth large - portions
of its organic and inorganic constituents, thci
soil becomes deteriorated, unable to sustain
a heavy growth of vegetation, and, as a con=
sequence, the great body of the plants, for
want-of food, die out.
NO. 12.
As TO THE SOIL.-A moist clay loam• is
best adaptedto the culture of timothy; thong
it will grow on any fertile loamy soil wbere
in there are limo and potash.—On porous,
gravelly, or sandy soils, the plant does not
thrive well. • On a stiff, dry red clay we hava
had it to grow well and, produce luxuriant .
crops, but we took especial pains in manuring
and preparing the soil for the reception o . f
the seed, and in top-dressing it afterwards.
PREPARATION OF TELE SOIL.—The had ill*
tended for a timothy meadow unless it be
naturally 'very fertile, should •be generously
manured, plowed deep, and thoroughly put;
verised by rolling and harrowing, and agaid
rolling.
QUANTITIES OF SEED PER ACRE.—Less than
one peck per. acre should never be sown; and
were we setting a timothy meadow, we should
sow 1 pecks to the acre.
SEEDING.—The seed musty be equally dis
tributed by a careful hand, or a machines
We prefer the latter mode. As the seed is .
sown, harrow them in with a light garden or
seed harrow, and then roll.
Timm or SErnmc..—From. 20th of August
till the 10th of September.
in offering prizes for animals at agricul=
tural meetings, distinction should be made
between those smothered iiffat, by which the
form is totally concealed, and those whose
proportions are visible, though well covered
with wholesome meat. if farmers arc to be
benefitted by periodical gatherings and-exhi
bitions of stock, attention must be paid to
certain rules by which information can be
obtained as to the expenses of feeding, when
it will be proved tliatdisgusting looking pigs•
which cannot stand, but require propping up
to eat, are not worth their 'keep,' that is,
will not remunerate the agriculturist, who
has to live upon his land, and from the pro
duce. Animals are required with the Tomer'
of producing weight in a short time, on. the'
ordinary food supplied by the farm, and
when in fine healthy condition affording a;
fair return for expense incurred.— Ohio Par-
The force of these remarks, we presume'
could be appreciated by the importer of this
fine bull, that died in the street in Philadel
phia, a Id* 'Weeks ago, soon after leaving the
boat, having cost the owner $lBOO up to that
time. Cause—excessive burden of -fat—tog
much for our hot summer weather.
We are sorry to see the girls of the present
day have such a tendency to utter worthless
ness—groming up anxious to become more'
fashionable than good, more anxious to culti
vate their heels than their heads, and to en
circle their legs with whalebone rather than
the brow with wreaths of love, - kindness and'
beauty. As a general thing, those who are
handsome think they are lovely. Far from
it., When we, years gone, took one to be
Mrs. P., girls were girls. It was fun to go a
dozen miles afoot with mud knee deep . to Ben
them, as - you were sure to find the clear girls
—nature instead of art. But now it is differ
ent The dentist supplies the teeth, " Uncle
Ned" the cotton, some optician the eyes, and:
a skillful mechanic the legs and arms; an ar
tist furnishes paint, a Yankee - the hoops,•
some "French Milliner" gets up artificial
maternal founts, and the very devil robs him
self to give them a disposition to lie, tattle,.
gossip, make mischief, and.kick up all sorts
of bobberies among respectable people gen
erally. Vanity of vanities, saith the preach
er. We love the girls when they act like'
girls,
,but this counterfeit article now being•
palmed off on fashionable society is an intol-
erable humbug.- But the girls now-a-days•
arc neither fit for wives, nor do they know
enough for mothers.
FIRE PROOF LADIES DiESSES.—Within
very short time two youner''' ladies have been'
burnt to death, owing to their light muslin
dresses catching fire from a lucifer match-,••
one in London, the other at Colchester. It,
ought to be generally known that all ladies'
dresses may be made fire-proof at a mere'
nominal cost, by steeping them, or the linen
or cotton used in making them, in a diluted'
solution of chloride of mne. We have seen
the very finest eambrie so prepared held in
flame of a candle; and charred to dust, with- .
out the least flame; and we have been inform- .
ed that since Clara Webster, a dancer, was
burnt to death, from her clothes catching fire , '
on the stage, the muslin dresses of all the'
dancers at the best theatres are made fire
proof. Our manufactures should take the'
hint.—Medical
A WARNING.—The Reading Gazette says'
it is now reduced to a, certainty that cholera
morbus, cholera infantum, and diarrhoea exist
in the city, and that, too, to a considerable
extent, every physician having more or less
on hand. We do not say this for the purpose'
of creating any alarm-among the timid, but
eve mention the fact so that people may be
placed upon their guard. Every man who'
has the least regard for his own - health and .
the henlar•of his neighbor, shook' at once'
see to his premises, and remove any filth'
that may have accumulated in his yard. eds. ,-
pools and gutters should be limed- Copperas'-:
is a good disinfecting agent for privies or ,sut-'
tern, and can be pure/Zed for a mere trifle.'
Chloride of lime sprinkled in cellars, drains'
and hydrant gutters,pnrifres everything font
it comes in contact with.- Remember the ev
erlasting truth of the adage that "an onueee'
of prevention is worth-a pound of cure," ,
se-Mertgages 'eio at one• time a favor- -
ite investment, but no* there is little
,or' - my
demand for there. They cannot be. disposed or
for less than-ten per cent:•discouut=a-hervi
shave.,
Agricultural Prizes.
The gills of the present day.
El