Maim VOL. 48. AMERICAN VOLUNTEER. PUBLISHED, EVEHY THURSDAY UOUNTNQ BY JOHN B* BRATTON. TEEMS SunscniPTiON.— One Dollar and Fifty Cents, paid in advance; Two. Dollars if paid within tbo year; and Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid within the year. These terms will bo rigidly adhered to in every instance. No subscription discontinued until all arrearages are paid unless at the option of the Editor. Advertisements —Accompanied by tbo cash, and not exceeding .©no square, will 'bo inserted, thr.co • tinios for One Dollar, and twenty-five cents for each insertion. Those of a greater length in |||®>p6rtion. '• • . " ; • —Such as Hand-bills, Posting-bills, Pamphlets, Blanks, Labels, Ac. Ac., executed, with accuracy and at the shortest notice. 3Hiottllanjona; HOW TO EARN A HOME. A STORY FOR THE HARD TIMEI The other evening I came homo with an extra ten dollar bill ih ray pocket—money that I had earned by but of doors work.— Tho fact is I’m a clerk in. a downtown store, at a salary of SGOO per annum,.and a pretty >yifo and, baby to support out ol it.' I suppose this 'income will sound amazing ly small to your two and throe thousand offi fice holders, but nevertheless, we contrive to live very comfortably upon it. !Wo live upon one floor of an unpretending little house, for which we pay $l5O per annum, and Kit ty, my wife, you will understand, does all lior own work: so, that we lay up a neat little sum every year. I’ve got a balance of two or three’.nundred dollars at the savings bank, the’ hoard of several years, and it is aston ishing liow I feel. W liy Rothschild himself isn’t a circumstance to me 7 Well, I came homo with my extra bill, and showed it triumphantly to Kitty, who of course was delighted with my industry and thrift. ■ ‘Nowy my love,’ said I, ‘just add this to dur account at the bank, and with interest to tho end of the year.’ ' , ' ; . - Forthwith, I commenced: casting interest, and calculated in my brain. Kitty was si lent, and rooked the cradle musingly with her foot. ■ . • ‘l’ve been thinking, Harry,’ said she, after a moment’s pause, ‘that since you've got this extra money, we might afford to buy a new rug. This is getting dreadful shabby, my dear, you must see.’ < I looked dolefully at the rug; it was worn and shabby enough, that was a fact. ‘I can got a beautiful now' velvet pattern for seven dollars,'responded my wife. ‘Velvet—seven dollars,’ groaned I. , ‘Well then, a common tugged rug like this Would cost only throe.’ said my cautious hot- Tor Jiiilf, 'seeing-she eoiildh’t carry lier first ambitious point, wisely withdrew her guns. ■ ■ - ‘That’s more sensible,’ said I. ‘Well, we’ll see about it.’ ‘And there’s another thing I want,’ contin ued my wife putting her head coaxingly upon mv shoulder, and it’s not at all extravagant, either.’ 'What is it ?’ I asked, softening, rapidly. ‘I. saw such a lovely silk pattern on Canal street, this morning, and Bonn get it for six dollars—only six dollars. Harry 1 It’s the cheapest thing I ever saw.’ : ‘But, havn’t you got a very, pretty greeii dress, Kitty?’ .. ‘That old thing! Why, Harry, I’ve worn it ever since we’ve been married.’ ‘ls it soiled or ragged ?! - ‘No, of course ; -but who wants to wear the same old dress forever 1 Everybody knows i t is tho only silk I have. ‘Well, what then ?’ ■ ‘That’s just a man’s question,’ pouted Kitty. ‘And I'suppose you have not observed how old fashioned-my bonnet is getting.’ ‘Why, I thought it looked very neat anil tasteful, %inoe you put on that black velvet Winter trimming.” ‘Of course—you men have ho taste at all in such matters.’ We were silent for a moment; I’m afraid wo both felt a little cross and .out of humor with one another. In fact, on my journey home, I had entertained serious thoughts of exchanging, my old silver watch for a more modern time piece of gold, arid had mentally appropriated tho ten dollars to, further that purpose.’ Savings bank reflections had.come later. , • As we sat before the fire each wrapped in thought, pur neighbor, ■ Mr. Wilmot, knocked at the, door. He was employed at the same Store as myself, and his wife was an old fam ily friend. 'I want you to congratulate me,’ ho said, taking a seat. ‘I have purchased that little , cottage but on Bloomingdale road to day.' ‘What 1 that beautilul little wooden oottngo with the piaza and lawn, and fruit garden be hind exclaimed Kitty, almost enviously. ‘ls it possible ?’ I cried. A little cottage homo of my own, just like that I had often admired on the Bloomingdale road, had al ways been the crowning ambition of my life —a distant and almost hopeless point, but no less earnestly desired. ‘Why, Wilmot,’ said I, ‘how did this hap pen ? you’ve only been in business eight or ten years longer than I, at a salary but a tri fle larger than mine, yet I could as soon buy a mint as purchase a cottage like that.’ ■ ‘Well,' said my neighbor, ‘wo have all been working to this end for years. ■ My wife has darned, patched, mended and saved—wo have lived on plain fare, and done with the oh eap est things. But the magic charm of the whole affair was, that we laid aside every penny that was not needed by actual and positive want. Yes I have seen my wife lay by rod coppers one by one. Times are hard, you know, just now; the owner was not what you call an economical man, and ha was glad to sell even at a moderate price. So you see that even hard times have helped me.’ When opr neighbor was gone, Kitty and I Joofced meaningly at one another. ‘Hany,’ said sho, ‘the rug isn't so bad af- all, and my green silk will do a year lon ger with care.' .‘And a silver watch is quite qs good for all practical purposes as a gold repeater,’ said I, rWb"will set aside all imaginary wants.’ ‘The ton dollar bill must go to the bank,’ paid Kitty .‘and I’ll economise the oOppers yust as Mrs, Wilmot did, Oh, how happy phe will bo among tho roses ip that cottage garden next spring I' Our merry tea kettle sung us a ohoerful little song over the glowing tiro that night, p,nd its burden was ‘Economy and a honje of ypgr own amid the roses and the country . fCT" A wag, bn hearing that a man had given up ohimnoy-swoepmg, expressed aur pjrjsp, as ho thought tijo business sooted him. Anecdote of Washington. Many years ago in a desolate Uttlo the suburbs of sat a lonely wid ow surrounded hy Her fatherless children.--- Her husband had fallen in the battle of his country; but since then she had earned a scanty subsistanco by her own hands Without being burdensome to any one, and her little ones though but poorly fed and clothed, had never felt that bitterest ingredient of poverty —alms seeking from tbe public. _ n Bat recently sickness had laid its heavy hand upon her; and stern wont and starva tion, almost, had followed closely in its foot steps. Yet did not her faith foil. She repeat ed the words that often before had cheered her sad heart: “ Leave thy fatherless children and I will preserve them olive.” “I have been young, and am now old, yet never saw I the righteousness forsaken, nor his seed beg ging brood and her heart rose in humble yet firm reliance Upon their divine Author. As her children.had eaten nothing all day, and as she was still too feeble to rise from her bed, she now felt compelled, though reluc tantly, to send forth the eldest of her children on his first mission of begging, to seek from some-charitable stronger a rew snmiugß -ccr buy bread hoping she should bo again able to earn some by her own efforts. The child, a noble little fellow of ten years, shrank from such bn errand; but, seeing his mother’s look of anguish, ho hushed regrets, and rushed forth into the streets, little think ing, in his grief, what course ho took ; hut a higher power, though unseen, guided his steps. As tho child walked mournfully on,, look ing wistfully into the faces of the people he met, he was too much disheartened by their cold indiffel-ent looks to adventure to address them., The longer he put it off the’more re-' luctant lie was to nsk the alma ho feared might be refused and, weeping bitterly; he hurried on unknown and unheeded by the busy, throng. , Suddenly a kind voice spoke to him and looking up bo saw a mild, benovolent.looking gentleman,, dressed in. black and wearing a three-cornered hat. ,'l'aking the child’s hand into,his, and leading him gently onward, the stranger gentleman soon drew from the little boy thb whole history,' the father’s name and death, .the mother’s struggle to gain support, her recent sickness, and the subsequent suf ferings ; and then he hade the child lead him to his homo, though stopping at a provision store on the way to order a-supply for the poor family. Entering tho lihuse, the quick eye of the strnnger soon discerned the cause of the moth er’s feebleness, and introducing himself as a physician quite suited to her ease, though hot a regular practitioner, he offered to write a pre scription, which he said bo was sure would prove beneficial. Leaving tho paper on the table, after Buying a lew kind, cheering words to the mother, he left the house, promising to •repeat his visit in a few days, and then to re new the pfescrip ion if necessary. , ..Whan.ha.was gone, the, widow at jlu l paper, and found it an order for a hundred dollars, to be paid on demand, and was signed George Washington. This is a true incident. Such was the father of.his country, a God foaring nlan ; hot less pitiful to tho sorrows of a weeping child, ami anxieties of a widowed motner than groat in the armies of his.country and couneds of the Nation. Thus were a widow’s prayers answered, and the seed of the faithful Chris tian not suffered to “beg bread.”, isolation. “.Why is rotation necessary ?” This is a frequent inquiry with practical men. Sup posing a crop carries off a certain specified amount of inorganic substances from the soil, each of which is indispensable to its develop ment, it follows, as a matter of course that the cultivation of that crop, for several con secutive years, will abstraot'so far from the supp’y in the soil, ns ultimately to deprive it of the power of producing it. But all crops do not exhaust the soil of the!sumo special substances ; and hence, if wo cultivate Indi an corn for a couple of years in succession, on one field, and then potatoes, turnips, peas, beans or carrots, we shall find that the latter are by no means stultified from any lack of nutriment—each finding its appropriate ali ment, and in sufficient quantities to insure its healthy growth and u aturatiori. . There are many organic substances in the soil which the corn plant does not spcciallly re-’ quire, or appropriate, and which are conse quently not exhausted by its cultiva.ion; while each of them are essential to the growth of sonic other vegetable. Hence it is that when these are grown alternately, the productive powers of the soil are not so rapid ly exhausted, and fertility is kept up by a sort of recupeiativo process ; the organic ele ment necessary for the development of one crop, having tiino to accumulate while the soil is occupied by another crop by which they are riot required. , • • In many sections of our country tho Indi an u corn crop is one of prime importance, consequently it is frequently cultivated for two, three and even four years in succession, on the same field ; but I have observed when ever this practice has been injudiciously adopted, that, after the third season, gener ally after the second, there is an obvious fall ing off, oven when liberal manuring is adopt ed. Very few farmers, therefore, who con sult their own interests, arid who have had the benefit of experience and observation, are found to favor it either in theory or prac tice. By adopting a judicious system of rotation, and adhering rigidly to it, with the assistance of copious manuring—returning to the soil more, if possible, than thr crops carry off— any land may ho retained in a condition of high fertility while, by an opposite course, it will as certainly bo exhausted and “run out.” It is a principle with mo never to attempt the cultivation of a orop which I cannot afford to manure well, and this should bo the policy of every faraor. One had better run in debt for manure than exhaust his soil by cropping Without, or, perhaps, had bettor suffer his land to rest until manure oan bo made.—Go)-. Germantown Telegraph. Kino Treatment of Animals ProfitadPe. —-The horse servos us with a superior ability and a bettor will, if treated kindly. On the same condition, tbo sheep gives us a better fleoeo; tbo 05, more officiant labor ; and the swine, a bettor carcase, The cow that is dealt gontly with and made contented with her lot, gives us not gnly more milk, but of a richer quality than if ill-treated,, fretted, and made miserable. All animals make n better return if carpd for considerately. “The merciful man is merciful to i)is beast." He would bo so if there was no reward. IV 0 owe it to the animals which , qro put into our power j wo owe it to ourselves, and we owe it to God, who has given us power over them, to make tlio brief space wo intend for them, free from all unnecessary suffering. ' ; "OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BERIQUX—BUT) RIGHT OR WRONG, Otlß COUNTRY.” An Old Maid’s Solilloquy. •‘Hoigho I I’m thirty-three years old to day (I call myself twenty-tow). Yes—there’s no use of mincing matters now—l am alone. I’m on old maid. It’s very strange that I never had an offer; without a particle of egotism, I can say that I am yet good-looking (for that new sot of teeth from Palmer’s has improved my looks wonderfully), have a good education, and, what is of still more,impor tance, would like to be married. But that doesn't help the matter in the least. Dear me, cannot I setmy wits at work—what few I have—and think of some plan by which I can catch a husband 7 It’s funny if I cannot. “ Let’s see, I have quite a little sum of mon ey in the bank—enough, at any rate, to last me for some time. Hurrah!,l have it now. I’ll go to Saratoga next'week: it’s tbe height of the season, and—let pie think—l’ve an aunt there—rich, I believe ; she’s not hoard from me for years,: and will never know but that I. have been married. I’ll introduce my self to her as her niece, a widow— by the way, black is.,very becoming to me—-and it shall be no fault of mine If X don’t come homo a married woman. Mon are not so' afraid of few sighs and tears —I was-always called a good actress—one of two allusions to my poor husband, and I shall be an ‘old maid’ no longerl Wouldn’t 1 the people store, and wouldn’t that hateful Sarah Crocker be pro voked if I should happen to be married first after all. “How I wish people would attend to their own affairs. There’s that Sarah Crocker, I verily believe the old thing spends all her time and energies in trying to provoke me.— Why, ft’s only three weeks since she sent mo, ‘out of pity’ for my ‘ago’ a cap, that must have belonged, to her grandmother—mine never would have worn such a looking thing—and a pair of huge iron spectacles, that looked ns though they hud been brought over in the ‘Mayflower,’ Never mind, 1 had the pleasure of returning them, and a note besides, telling her that, as I had not yet reached the years of discretion, which she had, I.must beg to be excused from wearing her gift; in the mean time, I would leave them to her, ns I pre sumed—from what I had heard—that she would find far more use for them than I.— Goodness, Wasn’t she modi why, she’s held that head of hers thirty degrees higher ever since—guess she won’t alarm anybody; lucki ly I am not easily frightened. , “I suppose she thinks she’s sure of Mr. Green, now that he’s called to see her twice. Humph, I wish her joy of her lover; I wouldn’t have him if I never got married. He’s got tho reddest hair that I ever saw on the head of any mortal—what if he is rich? he’s a widower, arid people do say—there, as I live, that’s him crossing tho street, going to see Sarah Crocker, I s’pose—but, no—he’s passed there, and, as sure as fate, ho is coning here. Dear me, how my heart flies—what can he want of me this afternoon ? There now, I' remember, he was very attentive to mo at Jlrai.yanola, party, tire, other,M^yemßg(.-an Bail road Crossing, Tcnncsao River, Feb. 10. j "Sir; Wo have returned to this point from our entirely successful expedition to Florence, at the foot of the Mussel Shoals, The Rebels wore forced to burn six steamers, and wo captured two others, besides the half complete gun-boat East pari. "The steamers burned wore freighted with Rebel military stores. The Eaatport boa about 230,000 feet of lumber on beard. We also captured 200 stand of arms, and a quan tity of clothing arid'steres, and destroyed the encampment of Col. Crows, at Savannah, Ten nessee. . "Wo found the Union sentiment strong.'* t 1 NO. 37.