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~i, t lett Vottrg.
BE BIND TO MACH OTHER.
Oh, be kind to each other I
:For little ye know
How soon ye may weep
The sad tears of woe,
For a brother, or sister, or friend loved and dear,
Reposing in stillness on death's sable bier. •
-•- Be kind to each•other I
For little ye know
Bow soon ye may weep
O'er a desolate home,
0r yearn for the forms that have passed away
To dwell in the light of a happier day.
Be kind to each other!
And strife, day by day,
To render some kindness
To soften lire's way;
And remember that friends the last ones should Too
To sneer at the faults in each other they see.
Be kind to each other!
For short is life's span ;
We must crowd in its compass
All the good acts we can.
Each hour should recall, as it passes away,
Some being made gine: by lore's kindly sway
c itorg.
4:41 2 ft t elli . 1 0 ;1 1 4 4 :W'ZirA 0 ) ; • ( 44
" There Mary—now donit you think I de
serve to be called a pretty good husband 2"
laughed the young man as he dropped down
in the lady's hand half a dozen gold pieces.
" Yes you are, Edward, the very best hus
band in the world," and she lifted up her
sweet face beaming with smiles, as a June
day with sunshine.
Thank you, thank you, for the very flat
tering words. And now, dear, I want you
to have the cloak by next Christmas. I'm
anxious to know how you. will look in it."
" But Edward," gazing anxiously at the
shining pieces in her rosy palm, " you know
we are not rich people, and it really seems a
piece of extravagance for me to give thirty
dollars for a velvet cloak."
"No, it is not, either. You deserve the
cloak, Mary,-and I've set my mind upon your
having it: Then,
it will last you so many
years that it willbe more economical in the
end than a less expensive article."
It was evident the lady was predisposed to
conviction. She made no further attempt to
refute her husband's arguments, and her
small fingers closed over the gold pieces, as
she rose up saying—
." Well, dear, the supper has been wait
ing half an hour, and I know you must be
hungry." .
Edward and Mary Clark were the husband
and wife of a year. He was a book-keeper
in a large establishment; with a salary of fif
teen hundred dollars. His fair young wife
made a little earthly paradise of his cottage
home in the suburbs of the City, for within
its walls dwelt two lives that were set like
music to poetry,
,keeping time to each other.
And here dwelt also, the peace that God giv
eth to those who love him.'
Mrs. Clark came into the'sitting room sud
denly, and the girl lifted her head, and then
turned it away quickly, but not until the, first
glance told' the lady that the fair face was
swollen and stained with tears.
Janet Hill was a young seamstress whom
Mrs. Clark had occasionally employed for the
last six months. She was always attracted
by her young, bright face, her modest yet
dignified manners, and now the lady saw at
once that some great sorrow had smitten the
girl.-
Obeying the prompting& of a warm, im
pulsive heart, she 'went to her and laid. her
hand on her arm, saying softly,
"Won't you tell me what is troubling you,
Janet ?"
" Nothing that anybody can help," an
swered the girl, trying still to avert her face,
while the tears swelled in her eyes from the
effort which she made to speak.
"But perhaps I can. At any rate, you
know, it does us good sometimes to confide
our sorrows to a friend, and I need not assure
you that I sincerely grieve because of your
distress.
- And so with kind words and half-caressing
movements of the little hand, laid on the
seamstress' arm, Mrs. Clark drew from her
lips her sad story.
She was an orphan, supporting herself by
her daily labors, and she had one brother,
just sixteen, three years her junior. He had
been for some a kind of under clerk in a
large wholesale, establishment, where there
was every prospect of his promotion ; but 'he
had seriously injured himself in the summer,
by lifting some heavy bales of goods, and at
la - st a dangerous fever'set in; which had final
ly left him in so exhausted a state that the
doctor had no hope of his recovery.
"And to think I shall never see him again,
Mrs. Clark," cried the poor girl, with a fresh
burst of tears. "To think he must die away
there, among- strangers, in the hospital, with
no loving face to bend over him in his last
hours, or brush away the damp curls froth
the forehead which mamma used to be so
proud of. 0-: , -George—my darling, bright
faced little brother George," and here the
poor girl broke down in storm of sobs and
tears.
•
" Poor child, poor child," murmured Mrs.
Clark, her sweet eyes _swimming in tears.—
" How much would it cost for you . to go to
your brother and return ?" she asked at
last.
" About thirty dollars. I haven't so much
money , in the world. You see, it's nearly
four hundred miles, off; , but I could manage
to support myself after I got there."
A thought paised quickly through Mrs.
Clark's mind. She stood still for a few mo
ments, her blue eyes fixed in deep meditation.
-At last she said
_kindly, " Well,' my child,
try and bear up bravely, and we will see
what can be done for you," and the warm,
oheeerful tones comforted the sad heart of the
seainstress.
$1 50
75
50
WILLIAM LEWIS,
VOL. XV.
The lady went up stairs and took the pie
ces out of her ivory portmonie. There - was a
brief, sharp struggle in her mind. "Some
how I've set my heart on this velvet cloak,"
she thought, "and Edward will be disappoin
ted. I was going out to select the velvet this
very afternoon. But then, there's that dying
baby lying there with strange faces all about
him, and longing, as the slow hours go by,
for a sight of the sister that loves him, and
would not this thought haunt me every time
I put on my new cloak ? After all, my old
broadcloth is not so bad, if. it's only turned.
And Pm sure I can bring Edward over to
my way of thinking. No, you must go with
out the cloak this time, and have the pleasure
of knowing you've smoothed the path going
down to the valley of the shadow of death,
Mary Clark." And she closed the portemo
nie resolutely, and went down stairs.
" Janet put up your work this moment—
there is no time to be lost. Here is the mon
ey. Take it and go to your brother."
The girl lifted up her eyes a moment; al
most in bewilderment, to the lady, and then,
as she comprehended the truth, a cry of
such joy broke from her lips, that its mem
ory never faded from the heart through all
the after years of Mrs. Clark's
" George ! George I" The words leaped
from her lips, as the sister sprang forward to
the low bed where the youth lay, his white,
sharpened face, gleaming death-like from
amidst his thick, yellow curls.
He opened his large eyes - suddenly—a flush
passed over his pallid face. He stretched out
his thin arms : "0, Janet ! Janet ! I haVe
prayed to God for the sight of you once more
before I die."
" His pulse is. stronger than it's been for
two weeks, and his face has a better hue,"
&aid the doctor, a few hours later, as he made
his morning visits through the wards of the
hospital.
" His sister came yesterday, and watched
with him," answered an attendant, glancing
at the young girl, who hung breathless over
the sleeping
" Ah, that explains it. • I'm not certain
but that the young man has recuperative
power enough left to recover if he could have
the care and tenderness for the next two
months, which love alone can furnish."
How Janet's heart leaped at the blessed
wards! That very morning she had an in
terview with her brother's employers. They
had been- careless, but not intentionally un
kind, and the girl's story enlisted their sym
pathigs.
'ln a day or two, George was removed to a
quiet, comfortable private home, and his. sis
ter installed herself by his couch,:,his nurse
and comforter.
Three years have passed. The shadows of
the night were fast dropping already around.
Mrs. Clark sat in her chamber, humming a
nursery tune, to which the cradle kept a.sort
of rythmic movement. Sometimes she would
pause suddenly, and adjust the snowy blvik
ets around the faces of the little slumber as,
shining from their own brown curls as red
apples shine amid fading leaves in October
orchards. Suddenly the door opened. "Sh
—sh," said the young mother, and she lifted
her finger with a smiling warning, as her
husband entered.
"There's something for you, Mary. It came
by Express this afternoon;" be said the words
in an undertone, placing a small packet in
her lap.
The lady received the packet with eyes
filled with wonder, while her husband leaned
over her shoulder and watched her movements.
A white box disclosed itself, and removing
the cover, Mrs. Clark descried a small, ele
gantly chased hunting watch. She lifted it
with a cry of delighted surprise, and touch
ing the spring, the case flew back, and on
the inside was engraved these words : "To
Mrs. Mary Clark. In token of the life she
saved."
"0, Edward, it must have come from
George and Janet Hill," exclaimed the lady,
and the quick tears leaped into her eyes.—
" You know she's been with him ever since
that time, and she wrote me last spring that
he'd. obtained an excellent situation as head
clerk in the firm. What an exquisite gift,
and how I shall value it. Not simply for
itself either."
" Well, Mary, you were in the right then,
though I'm sorry to say, I was half vexed
with you for giving up your velvet cloak, and
you've not had one yet.
" No, I've not had one, but I've never re
gretted it." She said these words with her
eyes fastened admiringlyon the beautiful gift.
"Nor I, Mary, for I cannot doubt that
your sacrifice bought the young man's life."
"0, say those words again, Edward. Bles
sed be . God for them," added the lady fer
vently.
The hUsband drew his arm around his wife,
and murmured reverently, "Blessed be God,
Mary; who put it into your heart to do -this
good deed." .
" DODGE THE BIG ONES r-A gentleman
relates an anecdote of the Mexican war,
which has never been published :
—_When the American army was forming
line for the battle of Buena Vista, General
Lane was riding up and down the - line of his
Indiana regiment. The' Mexicans had sta
tioned some small guns on a neighboring
height, which were blazing away moat
furiously on General Lane's regiment. But
as their guns were badly aimed, the balls in
every ca.se passed over their heads, but suf
fteitntly near, as they heard the peculiar
whiz of the balls, to involuntarily duck"
their heads.
Gen. Lane happened to notice this, and
in his rough, stentorian voice, he bawled out :
" Indiana regiment! No dodging!"
In about five minutes after, the tremendous
whiz of a twenty-four pound shot passed
close by the head of the, gallant brigadier,
who in an instant involuntarily bobbed his
head. The men saw this and commenced
tittering along the line, which the old general
saw. Turning around with a sort of a quiz
zical expression, be thundered out:
" Indiana regiment! :Dodge the big ones!"
We are all subject to many vicissitudes in
traversing the journey from baby-hood to
man's estate, and how eagerly do they, whose
guiding star is a mother's love, encounter
trouble and bid defiance to a world of care.—
If in the strife they are overcome, enemies
multiplied, and the future frowning and fore
boding no good ; still the heart is yet light,
when it remembers that there is _one being to
whom it can unburden itself ; that there is
one heart ever beating in unison with our
own ; one soul thrilling with hope despite the
threatening storms; one bosom alive to every
joy and sorrow, urging us to " press on," or
ready to share our - misfortunes and guide us
in future ; one on whom we can trustingly
rely and fearlessly confide, feeling sure of
that sympathy and advice such as mother's
ever give. Who has not experienced a moth
er's pure and disinterested love I
In purity a mother's love
Rivals an angel's tear;
It ever pleads to God above
For those her heart holds dear.
Thrice happy should he consider himself,
who is conscious of a mother's love. In pure
ness it exceeds the richest gem ; its lustre is
never dimmed, and resplendent brightness
will surpass those shining orbs with which
the " azure vault of heaven" is studded.—
None but one bereft of a mother can know of
what inestimable value, and how much allied
to our good, were the gentle admonitions
which
_fell from her lips. Not until she is
separated from us—called to a brighter realm,
are we
,alone. , Then do we for the first time,
experience that indescribable feeling of deso
lation which no other event can produce.—
When she has flown to heaven, to chant
hymns of praise with angels around the throne
of God, we are indeed alone. Though we
search the " wide world," not one can be
found to fill her place. We poor mortals are
doomed to many sorrows, but the greatest of
these is the loss of a mother's love. It there
fore behooves us, that while we possess so in
valuable treasure—while we still have a peace=
ful bosom whereon we may recline our echo
ing heads, we guard it as a precious jewel,
taking heed not to grieve her fond heart, or
" send her with sorrow to the grave." Let
our constant desire be to cherish, protect and
screen her from her danger, that we may'not
hereafter feel the pangs of self-reproach, hav
ing wantonly neglected - a - mother WhOse love
for us - was boundless as the ocean.
" Truth Stranger than Fiction."
We have an illustration of-this saying, too
Striking to be forgotten. Crossing the Ifaclt
ensack Bridge, near Newark, one day, in the
railroad car, in company with Governor D.,
of New Jersey, that gentletinui observed that
be had once witnessed a remarkable incident
on that spot.
He was in a stage coach, with some eight
or nine passengers, and, as they were cros
sing the bridge at this point, one, of the gen
tlemen remarked, that one evening, thirty
years before, he had been crossing the river
at that very .spot, in a stage coach, filled, as
now, with passengers ; that the bridge which
then existed was a miserable, rickety struc
ture, ready to fall from the least shock ; that
the waters of the, river were very much swol
len in consequence of a freshet, and that,
when the coach got about midway on the
bridge, one of the supports gave way, pre
cipitating all in the rapid waters.. After
great exertion, however, the passengers all
reached the shore, with the exception of a
little infant, which had been swept from the
mother's arms in the struggle, and now seemed
irrecoverably lost. The hearts of the passen
gers were, however, too deeply touched by
gratitude for their own escape and sympathy
for the bereaved mother to allow of their re
maining inactive, and those who could swim
plunged again into the flood to make a thor
ough search for, at least, the lifeless body of
their little companion. The narrator him
self was so fortunate as to grasp it by the
clothes, at some distance from the place of
the accident, and, on taking it into the toll
house and instituting rapid measures for its
recovery, it soon gladdened all hearts by open
ing its eyes and recognizing the face of its
now overjoyed mother. The gentleman nar
rated the little history with a-smile beaming
in his countenance while speaking of the part
he had acted on the occasion ; but he had
scarcely concluded, said Governor D., before
one of the ladies of our company begged him
to•excuse the liberty she was about to take,
in asking him if his name was not Mr. —?
" It is," replied he.
" Then," said the lady, "I was the infant
whom you rescued ! My mother always re
membered the delivery of her child, and
taught the child also to remember him. But
it is now after a lapse of thirty years from
the time of the event, and here, on the very
spot where it occurred, that child finds an op
portunity of informing her deliverer how
faithfully that name has been cherished."
So unexpected a denouement as this, said
Governor D., filled me with the liveliest and
most joyful surprise ; and I am sure every
one in the coach at that time will remember
that journey as one of the most agreeable he
ever made.—Frcem&a's Journal.
PERUSING OLD PAPERS.—How depressing
is the overlooking of old papers long locked
up, and filed away, written many years ago,
when the World was brighter and friends
more numerous than now, before misfortune
had dimmed the one, or death had snatched
away the other ! Nor are one's spirits made
more cheerful, when some old document or
letter transports us backward to a season of
bereavement or sad mischance. The sun
shine of the present is clouded by these re
miniscences which prodnce in all their gloom
the shadows of a former day. But when it
happens, as 'is most commonly the fact, that
a day of darkness is selected for the melan
choly review of past scenes, the sombre skies
above.us mingle, their weeping with the tears
of revived afflictions, and then a pall of dark
est hue settles upon the mind. Beware of
this; 'let no one unlock the trunk of old pa
pers, especially such as concern the heart,
except on a cloudless day—when the sun is
shining in his meridian splendor.
!re
HUNTINGDON, Ps;, NOVEMBER 23, 1859,
A Mother's Love.
-PER6EVEA.V:-
Orie of the best criteria to judge of the elo
quence of a speaker, is the effect he produces
upon - his audience. Every judicious speaker
will adapt himself, both in his language and
illustrations, to the capacity, the taste, and
the prejudices of his audience. To address a
fine •speech, clothed in elegant terms, to a
back woods hunter, would be absurd, and
most certainly would fail of the desired ob
ject. Nobody understands this subject better
than the stump orators of the West. The
following is a real specimen of the tact to
which we have alluded. It is a part of an
electioneering speech, delivered by Mr. Gar
ret Davis, a Con gressional candidate in Ken
tucky, in 1830,in opposition to Mr. Daniels,
the sitting member, whom he charged with
gross inconsistency of conduct in regard to
the Maysville Road Bill, vetoed by President
Jackson :
." Here, fellow-citizens," said he, " we have
a man who professed great friendship for this
turnpike previous to his election—and after
wards, when a bill was before Congress to
make an appropriation for it, he made speech
es in its favor—voted for it—and it was pas
sed.-and sent to the President - for his -signa
ture, but returned with his veto. It then
came before the House again, when lo ! this
ardent supporter of the bill turned and voted
against it!
Now, gentlemen, what would you think
of a dog that would go a coon-hunting with
you—follow the track well—run well—catch
the coon—bite well—and just as you had got
up with him, and were in the very act of seiz
ing the coon, would let him go, and turn and
bark at you ? I say, gentlemen, what would
you do with such a dog ?"
Kill him ! by thunder 1" " Shoot him !
by jingo !" was the universal shout of the
audience.
Teach the Women to Save.
There's the secret. A saving woman at
the head of a family is the very best savings
bank yet established—one that receives de
posits daily and hourly, with no costly ma
chinery to manage it. The idea of savingis
a pleasant one, and if "the women" would
imbibe it once, they would cultivate and ad
here to it, and thus many, when they were
not aware'of it, would be laying the founda
tion for a competence ,' security in a stormy
time, and shelter in a rainy day, - The wo
man who sees to her own house has a large
field to save in, and the , best way to make her
comßrehend it, is for her to keep an- account
of current expenses. Probably not one wife
in *n has an idea how much are the expen
ditures of herself or' family. Where from
one or two thousand dollars are expended
annually there is a chance to save something,
if the attempt is only made. Let the house
wife' take the idea—act upon it—and strive
over it—and she will save many dollars—
perhaps hundreds—where before she thought
It impossible. This is a duty—not a prompt
ing of avarice—a moral obligation that rests
upon all—upon " the women" as well as the
men ; 'but it is a duty, we are sorry to say,
that is cultivated very little, even-among those
who preach the most, and regard themselves
as examples in most matters. " Teach the
women to save," is a good enough maxim to
be inserted in the next edition of " Poor Rich
ard's
Almanac."
POLITENESS AT CHURCH.—In the good city
of Baltimore, several years ago, a young man
was seen to enter church in time of service ;
he paused at the entrance ; the congregation
stared ; he advanced • a few steps, and delib
erately surveying the whole assembly, com
menced a slow march up the broad aisle ; not
a pew was opened ; the audience was too
busy for civility; he wheeled, and in the same
manner performed a march, stepping as if to
" Roslin Castle," or to " The Dead March in
Saul," and disappeared. A few moments
after he returned, with a huge block upon his
shoulder, as heavy as he could well stagger
under ; his countenance was immovable ;
again the good people stared and half rose
from their seats, with their books in their
hands. At length he placed the block in the
very centre of the principal passage, and
seated himself upon it. Then for the first
time the reproach was felt. Every pew in
the house was instantly thrown open. But,
no, the stranger was a gentleman ; he came
not for disturbance, he moved not, smiled
not, but preserved the utmost decorum until
the service was concluded, when he shoulder
ed his block, and to the same slow step bore
it off, and replaced it where he had found it.
The congregation is now the most attentive
and polite to strangers of any in America.
Graves are but the prints of the footsteps
of the angel of eternal life.
Peace is the evening star of the soul, as
virtue is its sun, and the two are never apart.
The gifts that circumstances make in our
character we are apt to regard as its native
fruit.
He who dreads giving light to the people
is like a man who builds a house without
windows for fear of lightning.
Our sorrows are like thunder clouds, which
seem black in the distance but grow lighter
as they approach.
That is a beautiful thought where some
one says : Habit in a child is at first like a
spider's web; if neglected it becomes a thread
of twine; next, a cord or rope; finally, a ca
ble—then who can break it?
Personal respectability is totally indepen
dent of a Jarge income. Its greatest secret
is self-respect. Poverty can never degrade
those who never degrade themselves by pre
tence or duplicity.
It is folly for men of merit to think of es
caping censure, and a weakness to be affec
ted with it. Fabius Maximus said he was a
greater coward that was afraid of reproach
than he that fled from his enemies.
/163 F" " Did I understand you to say that I
was lousy, sir ?"
" 0, no ! I merely told my friend that when
it rained lice in Egypt, I thought you had
been walking there without hat or umbrella ,
that's all !"- -"
Stump Elciquence.
Gems of Thought.
Editor and Proprietor.
Not Bad.
Any one who has ever lived in Cincinnati,
Ohio, for ten or fifteen' years will remember
the tailor, one of the oldest and best
of his craft, as well as one of the jolliest, al
ways as ready to take a joke as to give one.
It used to be considered the 'fair thing' among
a 'select party,' to send persons to his store
for articles at variance with what usually
constitutes the stock in trade of members of
his profession. It happened one day as one
of the 'party' above mentioned was descend
ing the steps of the Burnett House, he en
countered a specimen of Kentucky, who in
quired of him where he could purchase a
jewsharp. Of course he was directed to E.'s
store, as the establishment where they kept
the largest assortment at the most reasonable
prices. Our friend proceeded at once to the
place indicated, and found E— (who, by
the way, was troubled with an impediment
of speech,) waiting on a customer, and, after
stating his wants, was politely requested to
'w
-wait a few mo-moments: After despatch
ing his business with the aforesaid customer,
he gravely approached Kentucky with a pair
of glove-stretchers, and observed, in a very
mild tone, 'W
-we shall h-have to-t-t-take your
mum-mum-measure," whereupon be inserted
the stretcher into his mouth, spreadino. ' - ' open
his countenance to the full extent of the
'stretch,' and, with a face indicating the ut
most seriousness, remarked to the astonished
Kentuckian, 'Y
-young man, w-we haven't
ger-ger-got any of y-your 6-s-size 1'
GERRIT SMITE'S INSANITY.—The Albany
American has the following paragraph :
"We learn that for some time past Smith
had his house surrounded by armed men, to
prevent his being taken to Virginia. He
keeps his room, and presents a very haggard
appearance—evidently the effect of fear.—
He has sown the wind ed is reaping the
whirlwind."
The Utica Herald of the 19th ult., says
that Mr. Smith is an inmate of the New York
State Lunatic Asylum, on account of marked
insanity. We learn that he is very violent
and .has exhibited a disposition to commit
suicide, and that an attendant keeps constant
watch over him to prevent him from laying
violent hands on himself. The result we
bear attributed to the connection of Mr.
Smith's name with the Harper's Ferry affair,
though many will regard itas the consequence
of long-seated and marked disease.
AERvh A recently married' young man got
intoxicated at a party, and in that state went
borne to his wife. • As soon as he appeared
she leaped from the sofa, on which she had
been half reclining, and throwing ber alabas
ter arms about his neck, inquired, "Are you
ill dearest ? What ails you ? You do not
seem to be yourself." " Weil, the t-t-truth
is that—that--that I went to sit-sit up with
a sick brother, belonging to our-our, lodge,
you see, my love, and the li-light-light went
out, and giving him brandy, as-as the doctor
had pre-prescribed, I-I must have ma-made
a-mistake-a-mistake in the da-dark, and taken
the liquor myself; whi-which I should-should
ha-have hand-handed my friend—you see,
my dear." This explanation was very satis
factory, especially to the husband.
gin iljt larmer.
Manner of Milking.
From an article on the "Dairy" in the
Irish Farmers' Gazette, we make the follow
ing extract;
" The manner of milking exerts a more
powerful and lasting influence on the produc
tiveness of the cow than most farmers are
aware of. That a slow and careless milker
soon dries up the best of cows, every practi
cal farmer and dairyman knows. The first
requisite of a good milker is, of course, utter
cleanliness. Without this the milk is unen
durable. The udder should, therefore, be
carefully cleaned before the milking commen
ces. The milker should begin gradually and
gently, but should steadily increase the rapid
ity of the operation till the udder is emptied,
using a pail sufficiently large to hold all,
without the necessity of changing. Cows are
very sensitive, and the pail cannot be chang
ed ; nor can the milker stop or rise during
the process of milking without leading the
cow more or less to withhold her milk. The
utmost care should be taken to strip to the
last drop, and to do it rapidly, and not in a
slow and negligent manner, which is sure to
have its effect on the yield of the cow. If
any milk is left it is re-absorbed into the sys
tem, or else becomes caked, and diminishes
the tendency to secrete a full quantity after
wards. If gentle and mild treatment is ob
served and preserved in, the operation of milk
ing appears to be one of pleasure to the ani
mal, as it undoubtedly is, but if an oppo
site course is pursued—if, at every rest
less movement, caused perhaps by pressing
a sore teat, the animal is harshly spoken to
—she will be likely to learn to kick as a habit,
and it will be difficult to overcome it after - -
wards. To induce quietness and readiness
to give down the milk freely, it is better that
the cows should be fed at milking time with
cut food, or roots placed within 'their easy
reach. The same person should milk the
same cow regularly, and not change from one to
another, unless there are special reasons for it."
TRIMMING GRAPE VlNES.—During April
we had a great many letters asking "Is it too
late now to trim grape vines ?" We have
written frequently nn this subject, and really
fear tiring the patience of our readers by
repetition, and shall answer the question
briefly. Grape vines should never be trim
med in the spring; November is the best time.
At that date they will not bleed, and by free
ing the vine from its useless portions you pre
vent the exhaustion of the roots by constant
evaporation from the branches and conse
quent ascent by capillary attraction ; the
wind blowing among the branches also as
sists this, notion. Compare a vine trimmed'
November 25th, with ono along side of it
trimmed in the, spring, of- equal size and in
variably the November trimming will give
the vest results.—.2frapes' Working _farmer.
SALT AND WATER FOR Stocg.-"--Thid it mis
take, :by' no means uncommon ' to. suppose
that there is very little for the breeder to do
during the summer
,months in the „way of
providing for the wants of his stock. It is
true that the same unceasing care and Watch
fulness which are so imperatively demanded
of. the farmer during long and severe win
ters, are not now indispensable ; but the pru
dent and thoughtful breeder will not forget
that even at this season, when the grass is
green on every hillside, and the sleelf , c.oats
and the rapid growth of his animals attest
the richness and abundance of the plastaireg,
there are important matters which require
his attention Chief among these we would
mention the provision of a constant and abun
dant supply of salt, and clear fresh water.—
The importance of providing salt for stock is
almost universally understood, and there are
comparatively . few farmers who entirely zit*
lect it, but it is a common mistake to feed it
at irregular or too great intervals, without
any regard to economy.
The best rule for salting animals is to keep
it constantly before them, and they will then
take it in such quantities, and only in such
quantities, as their systems require; but if de
prived of it for some time, they become so
ewer for it, that they may eat so much as
to injure them the first time they are liber
ally fed.
Salt boxes or troughs should be provided in
every pasture, firmly secured, and covered
with a small roof, raised sufficiently to allow
room for the animals to put their heads into
the box under the cover. The small roof or
cover is necessary to prevent the rain from
dissolving the salt. These box:: cr troughs
should be kept constantly . supplied with salt,
and your stock will take just such a quantity
as they require, and none will be wasted.—
It is well to locate them' in such part of your
pasture as you wish the stock to frequent ;
upon some dry knoll, if convenient, as more
manure will be .dropped in the vicinity of the
salt troughs than upon other parts of the ims
ture.—Southent Homestead.
NO. 22.
A very important question this, which ev
ery farmer should be able to answer with a
good degree 'of definiteness. It is not enough
to know that one is getting along in a gener
al way, 'without knowing what part of the
farm is profitable, and what is not. It is
possible to know how much profit there' is in
raising and fatting a steer, how much' in a
field of corn or wheat, how much in the an
nual produce of the whole farm.
A good way to do this; is to keep an ac
count with the farm from the beginning to
the end of the year. Under the head of
debtor, put down the interest on the cost of
the farm, the money paid out for the new
buildings, fences, drains, for manures bought,.
for implements, seeds, live stock, hired work,.
taxes, etc., in short all the necessary expen
ses of carrying on a farm for a year. Then,.
on• the credit side, put down all that the farm
produces for home consumption and for mar
ket, and that is added to its real value in the-
way of improvements. If it supports a fam
ily comfortably, besides furnishing something
to be expended in improvements, it is un
doubtedly paying well. And if besides this
general profit, each crop and each animal
raised, affords a- clear and known profit, the
farmer is doing well, and he knows how iti
comes to pass.
COMFORTS FOR CATTLE.—Good stables, good;
food, and good water, are the prime comforts:
for cattle in winter. For summer, whatever
else they may have, how can they get along
without a scratching pole? Rev. Sydney -
Smith, of England, was something'of a far
mer, and used to visit his cattle daily,. and'
feed and pat them, until they knew his voice
and welcomed his coming. He used to do al lin
his power to make them comfortable. He'has
been beard to say, " I am for all cheap . lux
uries, even for animals ; now all animals
have a passion for scratching their back
bones; they break down your gates and pail
ing to effect this. Look! thisis my universal
scratcher, a sharp-edged pole, resting on a
high and low post, adapted' to every height,
from a horse to a lamb. Even. the•Ediiiburgh
Reviewer can take his turn;' you? have no
idea how popular it is. I bane not liad' a gate
broken since I put it up. I have it in.all my
Southern Homestead.
EXTIRPATING THISTLES PROII GRASS LANHS.
—A correspondent of the London Pielii;•in ,
commenting upon this class of pests, remarks
that there have appeared few things more ex
traordinary in the history of farming knowl
edge than the perverse tenacity with
prejudice has so long preferred the scythe to
the roller in keeping down the thistles.
the North Riding of Yorkshire as far back
as forty years ago, the roller was an improved'
instrument for destroying thistles in pasture .
grounds ; and most effective was it found to'
be, the bruise and crush of the top of the•
plant extending its mortification to the root.•
No doubt the scythe makes a clean sweep ; so.
does a surgeon when he cuts a leg off; but"
let a crushed leg remain to the body, and the .
undertaker will assuredly have employment,
To STRAIN HONEY AND MAKE WAX.-Take,'
a tub or any vessel proportionable in size to'
the quantity to be strained ; take clean long
straw, shaken free from dust, and lay it
across the tub ; on this lay the honey comb;-
broken in small pieces, and let it remain until
all the honey has dripped down into the tub,
then take the comb and heat it over the fire"
until reduced to a liquid, state. Have ready
a tub of cold water, with a smooth board
placed one end in the water, the other resting'
on the side of the tub ; place a small portion:
of the liquid comb in a bag, and roll it along!
the board with sufficient force to press the
wax through. Afterwards collect the War ,
off the water, and melt and mould it as may
be desired.
HOW TO MAKE A BALKY HORSE PULL.- - Al'.
correspondent of the Cotton Planter gives a
method for making an obstinate horse' cir.
mule pull up a hill or anywhere else, when
his muscles are equal to the work. " Take
a small rope, double it, make a loop at .tlie
double end, and draw it snugly around the
under jaw of the animal, just below his front
teeth, with loop underneath. Throw the
_loose end over your shoulder, and 'walk in
the way be should go,'-holding fast and pull--
ing steadily and firmly. Don't be troubled
about him, for he will follow without
after he has discovered how you have got
him' This method will compel an animal'
to stand still and allow a bridle or collar
to be put on him."
How TO PREVENT SORE SROTTUDERS IN WORK—
ING lionsEs.—The Boston Journal says, the
plan we have tried and never found to fail,
is to get a piece of leather and have it cut
into such a shape as to lie snugly between
the shoulders of the horse and the collar.---
This fends off all the friction, as the collar
slips and moves on the leather• and not on
the shoulders of the horse. Chafing is caused
by. friction; hence this remedy is quite a
plausible one, and is much better than tying
slips of leather or padS of sheepskin under.
the collar.
How Does Your Farm Pay