The Amrican Volunteer,
pcimsimd kvxbt thursdat morhino
John B, Bratton*
owimaso urn market sq vara
Txmm—Two d*liara per year if pa id atilotljr
la advance. Two DoUara and Fifty Oenla If
paid within three months, after which Three
Dollars will be charged, These terms .will be
rigidly adhered io In every Instance. No auh
■erlptlon dlsoontlnsed until all arrearages are
paid, unless at the option of the Editor.
|Ntal.
TAKING IT EAST.
bt aionaz n. obabk.
Admit that I am slightly bald—
. Fray* who’s to blame for tho 17 -
And who Is wiser for the fact 7'
Until 1 lift my hat 7
Beneath the brim my harbored locks
Fall In a careless. way* ,
Wherein my waiohfol wife can spy
No lurking threads of gray.
What though, to read compoctest print,
I'm forced to hold my book
A little farther off than when
Life’s first degree 1 took ?
A yoke of slightly convex lens
The needful aid bestows,
And you should see how wise 1 look
With It astride my nose.
Don’t talk of the Infernal pangs
That rheumatism brings 1
I'm getting used to pains and aches,
And all those sort of things.
And when the Imp Sciatica
Makes bis malicious call,
I do not need an almanac
To toll me it Is fall.
Resides, it gives one quite an air
To travel with a eauo,
And make folks think you "well to do,"
Although you are in pain,
A fashionable hat may crown
Gcnteelesl coat and vest,.
But ah! the sturdy stßch redeems
And sobers all the rest,-
A man dlprlvod of natural rest,
Becomes a stupid elf,
And only steals from Father Time
To stultify himself.
So, If you'd be a Jovial son,
And laugh at life's decline,
Take my advice—turn of the>gas,
And go to bed at nine.
An oasy-eushloned rooking chair
Salta me uncommon well;
And so do liberal shoes—like these—
. With room for corns to swell;
I cotton to the soft lamb's wool.
That lines my gloves of kid,
And love elastic home-made socks,—
Indeed, I always did.
But what disturbs me more than all
Is, that sarcastic boys,
Prefer to have me somewhere else,'
When they are at thotr. noise;
That while I try to look and act
As like them as I con, •
They will persist In minister- Ing me.
And calling me a'man t ’
IpstElliweoits.
THE HEW DBPABTMEHT IH "THE
MOBBING GLOBT."
BY MAX ADELEB.
J.. Alfred Brimmer, Esq., editor and
proprietor of The Morning Olory, having
observed tbe dispositions of persons who
have been bereaved of their relatives to
give expression to their feelings In a po
etical form, reflected that it might per
haps be a good thing to Introduce to hie,
paper a department of obituary poetry.
He considered whether if, when an in
dividual Inserted fifty cents’ worth of
death notice, tbe establishment should
contribute gratuitously half a .dollar’s
worth of mortality stanzas, his paper
would not at once become the most pop
ular vebloie for the conveyance of that
peculiar form of melancholy intelligence
to tbe public. And Mr. Brimmer right
ly estimated that, as most newspaper
readers seem to take a greater Interest In
■uoh sepulchral news than in informa
tion of any other kind, tbe journal con
taining the largest supply would have
tbe greatest number of subscribers.
Bo Mr. Brimmer determined that be
would au an experiment at any rate, en
gage an obituary poet for a abort time,
witb the purpose to give blm permanent
employment if the plan seemed to take
with the public. Acoordingiy he sent
for Mr. Remington. Ott, a oonstruotor of
verses, who had freqdently contributed
to the columns of The Morning Olory
poems of what would have been consid
ered by a fastidious student of English
literature an appalling and revolutionary
character.
Mr. Brimmer soon effected an arrange
ment with the bard, by which It was
agreed that Mr. Ott should take a'posl
tlon In the office for a short time, and
whenever a death notice arrived he
should Immediately endeavor to grind
out somo verses expressive of the situa
tion.
“ You understand, Mr. Ott,” explained
Brimmer, “ that when the death of an
individual Is announced, X want you, as
It were, to obeer the afflicted family with
the resources of your noble art. I wish
you to throw yourself, you may say, Into
their situation, and to give them a verse:
or two about the corpse which will seem
to be the expression of the enfotton of
the hearts'of the living."
•' To enlighten the gloom, in a certain
sense, I suppose 7” said Mr. Ott.
" Precisely 1 Lighten the gloom. Bo
not mourn over the departed ; but rath
er take s Joyous view of death. whloh,
after ali, Mr. Ott„is, as it were, but the
entrance to a better life. Therefore, I
would advise you to touch tbs heart
strings of the afflicted witb a tender,
band, and endeavor, for instance) to di
vert their minds from contemplation of
the horrors of the tomb.”
“Refrain from despondency, I sup
pose, and lift their, thoughts to—”.
“JuntßOl And at the same time com
bine elevating sentiment with such
practiced Information aa you oan obtain
from the advertisement. Throw a gla
mour of poesy, for instance, over the
commonplace detalla of the every day
Ilfs of the deceased. People are fond of
minute descriptions. Some facts useful
for this purpose may be obtained from
the man who brings the notice to the
office; others you. may readily supply
from your Imagination;”
“PH throw off atanzas,” said Ur. Ott,
" In such a manner that people will want
their friends to die for the sake of the
poetry.”
“ But above all,” continued the editor,
“take a bright view of the matter al
ways. Hake the sunshine of smiles, as
it were, burst through the tempest of
tsars; and, If we don’t make The Morn
ing Olory hum around among the
mourners of this town, my name le not
Brimmer.”
He was right. It did hum.
The next day Remington Ott went on
duty, and Brimmer ran down to the
seashore for a breath of fresh air. All
through the day death notices came
pouring In, and when one would reach
Ott, ho would seize lb- and study It up to
ascertain the particulars. Then he
Would rush up stairs, lock himself in his
?lif f
BY JOHN B; BRATTON.
room, take down Ills rhyming dictionary,
run hla Ungers through bit hair, and
baok away for hair an hour at a piece of
paper until, he cmsldored that he bad
that poetry in a shape which would
make the Hlih'ken family feel proud of
the csrp.e. Wlimii hla day’s work was
done, Ott went home with a conviction
that 27i0 Morning Qlory bad finally
robbed Death of its terrors, and made
Ilfs comparatively valueless.
In the morning Mr. ' Ott proceeded
calmly to the office for the purpose of
embalming In sympathetic verse the
memories of other departed ones. As he
came near ts the establishment be ob
served a crowd of five or six thousand
people io front of it, struggling to get
into the door. Climbing a tree, he over
looked the and could see within,
the office the olerks selling papers ts fait
as they'could handle them, while the
mob pushed aud Jammed and yelled in
frantic efforts to obtain coplea—the
presses in the cellar meanwhile clanging .
away like mad. Upon tho curbstone in
front of him there was a line ot men
stretching down the street fo'r squares,
each man engaged in reading The Morn
ing Glory with an earnestness that Mr.*
Ott had never before ;seou displayed by
the patrons of that sheet. The bard con
cluded either that his poetry had touched
a sympathetic chord in the popular
heart, or that an appalling disaster had
occurred In some quarter of the globe.
He went round to the back of the
office and ascended to thebdltorial rooms.
As he approached the sanctum, loud
voices Were heard within. Mr. Ott
determined to ascertain the cause before
entering. He obtained a chair, and
placleg.it by the side door, be mounted
and peeped over the door through the
transom. There eat J. Alfred Brimmer,
holding Ihe Morning Olory in both
'hands, while tbe fringe wblob grew In a
semi circle around tbe edge of bis bald
head stood straight out, until, be seemed
to resemble a gigantic gnu swab. Two
or three persons stood in front of'him in
threatening attitudes. Ott beard one of
them eay:
“ My name la McGlue, sir I—William
MoGtiuel I am a brother of the late
Alexander MoQluo. I picked up your
paper this morning, and perceived in it
an outrageous Insult to my deceased
relative, and I have come around to
demand,sir, what do you mean by the
following infamous language:
‘‘The death angel smote Alexander HoQlnel
And gave him protracted repose;
Be wore a checked shirt and a Number Nino
■hoe.
And he had a pink wart on his nose.
No doubt he is happier dwelling In space
Over there on the ever-green shore;
His friends are Informed that his funeral takes
place
Brooliely at quarter-past four.”
“This,is simply diabolical i My lata
brother bad no wart on bis nose,, eir,
He bad upon bis nose neither a pink
wart, nor a green wart, nor' a cream
colored' wart, nor a wart of any other
colur. It is a slander? It is a gratuitous
insult to my family, and I distinctly
want you to say what you meau by suoh
conduct!”
“ Really, sir,” said Brimmer, " It is a
mistake. This Is the horrible work of
an Incsudiary miscreant whom I trusted
as a brother. He. shall be punished by
my own band for'tbis outrage. A pink
wart!' Awful I sir—awful I The mis
erable scoundrel shall suffer for this—bo
shell, Indeed!” - '
, “ How could I know,” mnrmnred Ott,.
out there by himself, “ that the corpse*
hadn’t a pink wart? I used to know a
man named. McGlue, and he had one,
and I though all the McGlues bad. This
comes of Irregularities In families.”
11 A who,” said another man, address
ing the editor, “authorized you Jo print
this hideous stuff about my deceased sou?
Do you moan Jo say that it wnS not wilh
your authority that your low comedian
-inserted with my advertisement tiro fol
lowing scandalous burlesque? Liston to
this :
•“Willie bad a purple monkey climbing on a
yellow stick.
And wbon bo sucked the paint nil oiT it made
blm deathly sick;
And in his latest hours ho clasped that monkey
In bis baud.
And bid good-bye to earth and weut Into a bet
ter land.
"Ob I no more he'll shoot his sister with his
little wooden gun;
And no more he'll twist the'pussy's .tail, and
make her yowl for fun.
The pussy's tall now stands oat straight; ths
gun Is laid aside;
The monkey doesn't Jump around since little
Willie died.”
“ The utterly atrocious character of
this balderdash will appear when I say
that William was twenty years old, that
he never had a purple monkey on a
stick, that he never fooled with cats, and
that he died of liver complaint.”
“ Infamous l-utterly infamous [’’groan
ed the editor, as he oast hie eyes over the
lines. "And the wretch who did this
still lives I “It Is too much I”
” And yet,” whispered Ott to himself,
" be told me to lighten the gloom and to
cheer the afflicted, family with the re
sources of my art; and I certainly tho’t
that Idea about.tbe. monkey would have
that effect somehow? It Is ungrateful I'
Just then there was a knock at the
door, and a woman entered crying.
•' Are you the editor?” she inquired of
Brimmer.
Brimmer said be was.
•• W-w-well I” she said, In a voice bro
ken by sobs, “ wh-what d'ye mean by,
publishing this kind of poetry a-baut m
roy Johnny ? M-my name la Sm-Bmlth,
and wh-wben I looked this m-mornlng
for the notice of Johnny’s d-death in
y-your paper 1 saw this awful, wicked,
y-verse:
" Four doctors tackled Johnny Smith—
' ' They pllstered and they bled him; ’ 1
, ' With quills and antl-blllous puis
, And Ipeoao, they fed blm.
They stirred him np with calomel.
And tried to move hie liver;
Sat all In vain—his little soul
Wes wafted o'er the River."
• It's false! false!—that’s what It Is 1—
Johnny only had one doctor. And they
d-dldn’t try to m-m-move his liver, and
they d-didn’t bl-bleed him and bl-bllster
him. It’s a wicked falsehood, and you're
a hard-hearted brute f-f-for printing It I"
‘•Madam, I shall go crazy If you con
tinue.!” exclaimed Brimmer. "This Is
not my work. It Is the work of a ser
pent, whom I warmed lu my bosom, and
whom I will slay with my own hand as
soon as ho comes in. Madam, the mis
erable outcast shall die I” ’
“ Btrangel strange!” muttered Ott.
"And this mau told mu to combine ale-
vatlDg sentiment with practical Informa
tion. ■ if thflinformatlonconcerning the
squills and ipecae. is not practical, I have
misunderstood tho use of that word. And
if young Smith didn’t have four doctors
It waa an outrage. He ought to have bad
them, and they ought to have excited bis
liver. Thus It Is,” thought Ott, 1 ".that
human life is sacrificed to carelessness.”
At this juncture the sheriff entered,
his brow clothed with thunder.. He had
a copy of Ihe Morning Qlory in bis
band. He approached the editor, and,
pointing to a dead notice, said : 1
“Bead that horrible mockery of my.
woe, and tell me the name of the writer,
so that I pan chastise him.”
The editor read as follows: . .
"Wo havo lost our little Hanner la a very pain
ful manner,. . • • 1
And we often asked, How oatr hor harsh suf
ferings bo borne 7
When her death was first reported hof'aUnt got
up and snorted
With the grief that she supported, for
her feel forlorn.
"She was such a Ultlo seraph that her father
who was sheriff,
Really doesn’t seem to care if ho never smiles
in life again.
She has gone, wo hope, to Iloavou, at tho. early
ago of seven.
(Funeral starts off at eleven,) when sho’ll.nov;
or more have pa!n.”
"As a consequence of this Infamy, X
withdraw nil the county advertising from
your paper. A man who could trifle in
this manner with the feelings of a pa
rent is a savage and a scoundrel.”
As the sheria went out, Brimmer
placed his head upon the table and
groaned.
‘‘Really,” Mr. Ott reflected, “that per
son must be deranged. I tried, in this
case, to put myeelf in this place, accord
ing to instructions. The verses are beau
tiful. That illusion to tbe grief of her
aimt, particularly, seemed to me to be
very happy. It expresses violent emotion
with afelioltoas combination of sweet
ness and force. These people have no
soul—no appreciation of the , beautiful
art A’
While the .poet mused; harried steps
were heard upon the stairs, and in a mo
ment a middle-aged man dashed in ab
ruptly, and, seizing Brimmer's scattered
hair, bumped hie prostrate head against
the table three or'four tlmes with consid
erable force. Having expended tbe vlo -
lenoo of his emotion in this way, be held
tbs editor's head down with one band
abaklng It occasionally by way of em
phasis, and with tbe other band seized
'the paper and said: '"
"You disgraceful old reprobate I You
unsympathetic And disgusting vampire!
You hoary-headed old ghoul I What do
you mean by. putting suoh staff aa this In
your vile sheet about my deceased son 7
What d’ye mean by printing snob awful
doggerel as this, you depravedand disso
lute ink-slinger—you imbecile old qutll
drivefyou:
” Oh I bury Bartholomew out In the woods,
In a beautiful hole In the ground.
Where the bumble-bees buzz and the wood
peckers sing,
And the straddle hugs tunable around;
So that. In Winter, Tfhcniho show and the slush
Have covered his last little bed.
Bis brother Artemos can gn out with Jane
And visit the place with his sled. "
"I’ll teach you to talk about straddle
bugs I I’ll instruct you about slush I I'll
enlighten your Insane old intellect bn
the subject of singing' woodpeckers I
What do you know about Jane and Ar
temna, you wretched buocanneer, you
despicable butcher of the English lan
guage !Go out with a sled! I’ll carry you
out in a hearse before I'm dons with you
—you deplorable, old lunatic I" ’
At the end of every phrase the visitor
gave the oditor’.s head a fresh knock
against , the table. When the exercise
was ended, Mr. Brimmer explained and
apologized In the humblest manner,
promising at the same time to give bis
assailant a chance to pommel Ott.
"The irenchory of tills rami,” murmur
ed tile poet, “is dreadful. Didn’t be de
sire me to tiirow a glamour of poesy over
commonplace details? But for that I
should never have thought of ailpding to
woodpeckers and bugs, and other chil
dren of Nature. The man objects to the
remarks - about the sled. Can’ the Idiot
know that it was necessary to have a
rhyme for ‘bed ?’ Can ho suppose that I
write poetry without rhymes? The man
is a lunatic! He ought not to be at
large.”
Hardly bad the Indignant and energet
ic parent of Bartholomew departed when
a man with red hair and a ferocious glare
In his eyes entered, carrying a club and
accompanied by a savage looking dog.
“I want to see.tbe editor,” be shouted.
A ghastly pallor overspread Brimmer’s
face, and he said: * '
"The editor is not in,”
“Weil l when will he bo In?”
"Not for a week—a month—for a year
—forever! Ho will never come In ony
more!” screamed Brimmer. "He has
gone to Bontb America, with the Inten
tion to remain.there during the balance
of bis life, Be bps departed. He has
fled. If you want to see him you bad
better follow him to the equator. He
will be glad to see yon. I would advise
you, as a friend; io take the next boat—
to start at once.”
‘‘That Is unfortunate I" said the man
with the golden looks; "I called for the
purpose of battering him op a little with
this club.”
"He will bo sorry,” said Brimmer, sar
castically. "He will regret missing yon.
I will write to him and mention that
you dropped In.”
"My name is McFadden,’’ said the
man. "I came to break the bead of the
man who .wrote that obituary poetry
about my wife. If you don't tall mo who
perpetrated ' the following. I'll break
youra for you I Where's the man who
wrote this 7 Pay attention :
•• Mrs*. MoFadden has gone from this life;
1 She has left all Its sorrowsand cares;
Bhe caught the rheumatics In both her legs
- While scrubbing the cellar and stairs.
They put mustard plasters upon her in vain ;
They bathed her with whisky and ram;
Cut Thursday her spirit departed, and left
Her body entirely numb. ”
’’The slave who held the late Mrs. Mo-
Fadden up to the scorn of an unsympa
thetic world In that shocking manner,”
said the editor, “Is named Remington
Ott. He boards In Blank street, fourth
door from the corner. I would advise
you to call on him and avenge Mrs. Mo-
Faddou’s wrongs with a Judicious Inter
mixture of club and dog-hltes.”
“And there,” sighed the poet, outside
the door, “is the mau who told mo to di
vert McFaddcn’s mind from contempla
tion of the horrors of the tpmh. It was
this monster who counseled mo to make
CARLISLE. PA., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1872..
the sunshine of MoFadden’s smiles burs!
. through the tempest of MoFadden’s tears.
If that redheaded monster couldn’t
smile over that Illusion to whisky and
ram; If those remarks about the rheu
matism in her lege could not divert hi*
mind from the horrors of the tomb—wal
It my fault? MoFadden grovels! He
knows no more about poetry than s
speckled mule knows about tbs Shorter
Catechism.”
.The poet determined to leave before
any further criticisms were made upon
hie performances. He jumped down from
hla obair and crept softly toward the back
staircase. Arriving at the landing, he
encountered Brimmer, who was moving
In the same direction. Brimmer had time
enough to utter a profane ejaculation and
to lift bis band and strike the poet, when
an old lady in a poke-bonnet and silver
spectacles suddenly emerged from the
etalrway and pinned the editor to the
wall with the ferule of her umbrella.
After grinding her teeth at him for a mo
ment she floored him with her weapon,
and seating herself upon his prostrate
form, she extracted a copy of Uhc Morn
ing Glory from her bag, and, pointing to
a certain stanza in the obituary column,
asked Ott to read It aloud. He did so.
It ran in this fashion ;
"Little Alexander’s dead;
Jam him In a coffin;
Don’t have as good a qhauco
For fan’ral often.
. Rusn bis body right around
To tne cemetery;
Drop him In the sepulchre -
With his Undo Jerry,” 1
At tha end of every lino the indignant
conqueror punched the fallen Brimmer’s
ribs with her umbrella, and exclaimed :
“Oh you wiliini 1 E'you hear that, you
wretch ? What d'you mean by writing of
my grandson In that way 7 Take that,
you serpint! O! you—you wlllluous
wiper you I trylu’ to break' a lone wid*
der’s heart with such soand’lus lies as
them! There you wiliini I kemmere to
hammer you well with this here umbrol
ler, you wicked wlllln, you wlllln. you
bwda'oious wiper, you I' Take that, and
that, you wile, indecent, disgustin’ wag
abonei When you know well enough
that Aleck never bad no Uncle Jerry,
and never no unoie in no sepulchre any
how, you vile wretch you I”
While she pounded the editor, the poet
grouped bis way down stairs six steps at
a time and emerged from the front door
with remarkable suddenness. His Jour
nalistic career ended upon that day.
When Brimmer’s employees dragged
away Alexander’s grandparent, and car
ried her struggling and screaming down
to tbs street, the editor sent for a car
riage and was taken home to bed, from
whence he arose a weak later with an
earnest determination never to permit
another line of Obituary Poetry to enter
the columns of The Homing Glory.
AH OLD BUT GOOD STOBY.
A countryman walked into the office
of. General Barnes one lay, and began
his application:
“General Barnes, I have come to get
your advice in a case that is giving me
some trouble.”
*• Well, what is the matter?”
“ Suppose now,” said the client, “that
a man had a fine spring of water on his
land, and his neighbor living below
him was to build a dam across a creek
running through both their farms, and
it was to back the water up'into the
other man’s spring, what ought to be
done?”
“Sue him,sir,suehim byallmeans,”
said the General, who always became
excited in proportion to the aggrava
tion of his client’s wrongs. “You can
recover heavy damages, sir. It is a
most flagrant injury ho has done you,
sir, and the law will make him pay
well for it, sir. Just give mo the case,
and I’ll bring the money from him ;
and if he hasn’t a good deal of property
it will break him up, air.”
" But stop, General,” said the terri
fied applicant for legal advice, “it’s me
that built the dam, and it’s neighbor
Jones that owns the spring, and- he’s
threatening to sue me /”
The keen lawyer hesitated but a mo
ment before he tacked ship and kept
on :
"Ah I Well, sir, you say you built
a dam across that creek. What sort of
a dam was that, sir ?”
“ It was a mill-dam
“ A mill-dam for grinding grain,was
it?”.
“Yes it was just that.”
“ And it is a good neighborhood mill,
is it?”
“Solt is, sir; you may well say so,
sir.”
“ And all tbo neighbors bring their
grain there to be ground, do they 7”
“ Yea, sir, ail but Jones.”
“ Then it Is a great public conveni
ence, is it not?’,’
'“To be sure it is. I would not have
built It but for that. It’s so far to any
other mill, sir.”
“And now," said the old lawyer,
“ you tell me that that man Jones is
complaining Just because the water
from your dam happens to back up into
bis little spring, and he is tbreatning
to sue you. Well, ail I have to say is,
let him sue, and he'll rue the day be
ever thought of it, os sure us my name
is Barnes.”
A Tennessee advertiser deposeth;
11 Having a dead sow and a litter of
twelve defunct pigs under my kitchen, I
am anxious to sell them low to the Coun
oil to purify some other part of the city.
It is bard Co part with such health pro*
moling animals, but lam poor and will
make the sacrifice for cash."
A LECTURE was delivered Id Boston a
few days since on " Old Bonnets.’’ The
coal scuttle, the close cottage, the kiss
me quick, the Quaker bonnet and the
three decker wore handsomely detailed
for woman’s delight and amusement.
A GIRL at Osage, lowa, whose ears are
grown up, has no method of hearing
except through her mouth. When a
young man is talking she beeps saying
“ yes,’’ for fear lest he might propose to
her and she not bear it.
A certain city was about to be de
stroyed. Tho women wore allowed to
leave, and were told that they might
carry away on their backs whatever they
most prized. Each woman took a man.
SHADES OF SHASTA.
Joaquin Hiller’s Tawny Bride-
The Child of a Shells Toi'e.
Wrinkled and brown as a bog of leather, '
A squaw Bits moaning ibng and low. I
Yesterday sbo was a wife and mother, ,
To-day she is rooking her to and fro,
A dosolato widow In weeds and woe. ’
. [fibnp af the Sitrraa.
Thus wrote the wild poot of the Sier
ras, Joaquin Miller, but. little did the
world know or the depth of meaning
In these lines. Never did It . drearb
that this squaw, who “ sat rocking to
and fro, a desolate widow In weeds find,
woe," was his own dusky 'spouse.., i
yet such seems to, have been .the fact-, 1
and In the San Francisco Chronicle we
have the whole of the wonderful story.
The writer tells us that fifteen years
ago, in the little green valley bn the
Upper Sacramento, there dwelt a'rem
nant of the once powerful tribe of Tas
chastas. But little is known of the
history of the tribe, except that they
were far above the average of the Call.,
forma Indian all that Invests the abo
riginal character with sentiment ahd
Romance. They were wild, fierce apd
exceedingly warlike, and for years had
held undisputed possession the region;
over-looked by the snow-capped dome
of Mount Shasta'. The memoiry of this
tribe , has been immortalised by , the
wild, wierd, romantic poem from the
pen of Oregon’s long-haired versifier—
Joaquin, in his. youth.,
spent nearly a year in their company,
residing. In (jhe wig warn of ( the.,chief,;
and. fishing. i and,i hunting with. ■ the
young warriors. ' 1 This romantic ; inci
dent in the life of, the..Sierra' songster,
is not generally known; but when'the,
facts are fully. recorded, his admirers.
willbe at no loss, to.account for, the in
spiration Which guided his pen through
the manes of 1 poetic' 1 thought "and
mournful fancy which gave, birth to
“ The Bast of the Taschastas’" - t . ,
Here it was that Miller flret felt the
awakening of the tender passtop, and
here it was that he first : aroused into
being the love el one who clung tb him
even unto death. She , was a dark-ey
ed, rayan haired creature, with a wealth
of love and affection which she lavisbr.
ed upon the adventurer. ’ Joaquin Mil
let’s treatment of this poor savage girl
reflects but little credit upon the soul of
so intense a being as ho. It finds a. par
allpl in his subsequent demeanor to
wards the fair-haired and mofo oultur
ed being who bears bis name and shares
(at a distance) the glory that Is his.—
The two Incidents confirm the impres
sion that, after all, poets can do very
mean things in a yery practical way. .
As the story goes, Miller was at one
time a stock-herder, or something oi
the kind, in Siskiyou county. One day
in attending to some cattle in the south
ern part of the county, he came across
a party of three young Indians.- Be
lieving that they were on a cattle steal
ing expedition he'fired at them to
frighten them away, hut unfortunately,
they wouldn’t scare worth a cent, and
in about two minutes the young disciple
of cattle herding and poetry," found
himself bound hand and. foot, and with ''
an ugly bullet hole through the fleshy
part of his leg. The next morning be
fore day-break he was in the Indian
camp a prisoner. Not knowing what
was to be his late, blind with anger and
mortification, and suffering Intensely
from his wound, Miller lay upon his
blanket the very picture of despair.
It was while lie was in this condition
that ho first met the woman who was l
to exorcise such an Influence upon his
future destiny.
Bhe was the daughter of the old chief
of the tribe, young— not over eighteen
—and as beautiful as an angel’s dream.
Miller in bis poem'draws the fallowing
picture ol her: . j
“ Hard by stood tho war chiefs daughter,
Tatter than the tussled corn,
Sweeter than the kiss of morning,
Sod as some sweet star of morn.
Half defiant half forlorn.
Robed In skins of striped panther,
Lifting loosely In the air,
With, a fleeting shade ol sorrow,
And black eyes that said, Beware I
Nestled In a storm of hair.
With her striped robes around her.
Fasten’d by an eagle’s bdak, 1 . H r:
Stood She by the stately chieftain,'
Frond and pure as SbaSta’s peak.
Her eyes were block, her face was brown,
Her breasts were bare, and there fell down,
Snoh wealth of hair, It almost hltj
The two, in its rich, jetty fold—
tyhloh I had sometime fain forbid ; ,
They were richer, fuller far . .
Than any polished bronzes are.
And richer baed than any gold.
On, her brown arms and her brown hands;
Were hoops of gold and golden bands,
Rough—hammered from the virgin ore.
So heavy they could hold no more.
The maiden saw the captive and
straightway her heart went out in sym
pathy for his suffering., 1 She attended
hlra. dressed hla wounds, and pleaded;
with her father for his safety. Her ef
forts were not in vain. For days apd
days she was unremitting in. her atten
tion and kindness, in a month Miller’s
wound was entirely healed, and he her
thought him of his future. The tribe,
through the intercession of the girl, of
fered him a safe conduct back to the
cattle herds, but some strange Invisible
power seemed to hold him, and weeks
went .by, finding him at their close still
a guest of the Taschastas, He kne#
the girl loved him wildly, and he knew
also that to leave her would cost him'a'
bitter pang, so be lingered on, even
against his better Judgement.
The old chief watched the progress
of events with a calm serenity and stoic
indifference worthy of a statue. He
gave no hint that a pale-faced son-in
law would be acceptable or distasteful,a
fact which Miller viewed with a great
deal of inner satisfaction. The love of
the two. ripeqed rapidly—bora faster
than his—for in her wild imaginings
she looked upon him as her Qod, and
and worshiped him accordingly. She
taught him a dialect by which they
could exchange their thoughts and give
expression to theheart yearnings which
overwhelmed them. Ho taught her a
few snatches of ilia first love songs, and
instructed her iu the first rudiments of
the English,longue. He filled her.mind
with glowing pictures of civilization,
fa? beyond the mighty ranges of snow -
covered .mountains In tho East ; and
she listened with absorbing, interest to
all he told' her of the’great world,.of
Which 'she knew so little, and hfl so
i*■'
. And so the green summer Wore ayvay,
! and* gave' place to .golden. autumn.! —
'Joaquin still lingered in the hospltaljle'
Wigwam With ooothdi'thoughtlidt to
bask' in tlie sunlight of the Indian mai
den’s smile,... She had; be witched him
with her artless grace, and bewildered*
ids' reason with : tll<i passionate loyd she
s»;' fl^tey 1 &Y$ I .' : h#;
was all in.allto.nar—her life, her world.
Jher .Odd. i She bad no word for nnybut
'the'pale-faced; ]| long-haired' stranger,-
fend no'tHodglit.fdr aught save 1 his Wei-,
fare andtappineas. And, so one day ’
they were! married. Not within the ’
massive stone walls of a.cathodral, 1 with
a gorgeous surpliced priest to mumble
over the few formal words which so
ciety has set up as a moral safeguard,
hut beneath the broad branches of a
mighty oak, with no eye save thit of
the Great Spirit upon; them, nor,any
voice save those of the ■chirping beetle
and the silver-toned birds to bless.their
union. Miller in'latter years has. told
us this about the bridal guests and,the
wedding festivities hi. . . ,:. i :
"The hills wore brown and the heaven?) were
blue, -
A woodpecker poumlcd.a plpotopehell,,, I ",
While a partridge whistled, the whole day
through 11 " 1 - i 1 ! ■ !
* -Fora rabbltio dahc&ln theCbappatalpu |
, And a gray groove drummed, ‘‘Alls well! Ah'*
■ For. tbe). peit, month < thera. was .but 1
,pne, heftyefti f ?Fi -Jpagulu, MlUpr,,.ipnd ! l , !
thtd wasiiusidb, thp pld jvlgyyaibL,
,Tl\e ypung wf>rrjms i
wadp up huntlQK
secure the, winter’asupplyflf prpvlalpria; |
but MiUor Mfused 'on occasions, tq,
accompany them.. He sat for,hoars at
a time gazing into the liquid depths of
his dusky, partner’s great,pyep pnd had
no Jpy, no happiness, save when in hey,
presenco. The old chief soon bfecame
•awara of the turn in his domestic affairs
but ho seepppd to viow ( tho. matter with
a, very phllqspphlcal, aepae*.. ijq,treaty
ed Miller well,.and regarded him. as afr ■
feqtlonateiy as a iuthey cqpid hiaown
son, although howondored that a pale- 1
face could so long content himself, a>vay
from his home and. kindred-., The wln
tercame and, jyent, aph atlU Millprlin
gered by, the side ,of his forest , (jride^
.though, an. interested. observe, y,; would
have looked in vain for, tho same pasr,
sionate devotion that held away at the
beginning. ■,
Their love bad crossed the meridian
of happiness, and the young couple had
begun to look each upon the other os a
matter of course. A quiet indifference
sprung up on hts part, which brooded
no good to the confiding' child of nature
who,had placed her trust in him—her
fate in, ids keeping.' He no longer sat,
at her feet or pillowed hiahoqd in her
lap at eventide, biit sat apart, 1 gazing,
into, vacancy, his thoughts far, far away,
among the ranches,of Siskiyou,; be the
pleasures of theiGity by the. Sea. Ho
longed fora change, and began to look ]
upon the of U separation,
from, his bride w^th;ft feellhff sitin' to,
satisfaction, ,Tho wife savy fall tbkfa |?at.
in her innocence saw nothing to give,
her alarm, : Besides she already felt
something which 'when told her lord,
she knew would fill his very soul with|
joy, and draw him closer to her.,
One night there was a great commo
tion In the wigwam. The old chief and
tho long-haired poet were both hustled
out into the midnight air and left to
shiver, in the gloom of early morn.—
Tropps, of Indiap women,, I
Wrinkled am? brown aa bags of’leatborj
hurriedly passed 'ld arid 'as'hurriedly
looks and 1
hurried whispers passed between,them,
and mysterious ceremonies; seemed to
be going p.n "wlthih the sacred pprtaiB.
As the sun llfterijli* gplrisn,
the snow-breasted of - tne Sierra?, ’
a plaintive wail'grated curiously;
perhaps a harshly, upon the eager ;
'ear,pf
. In another, hour, im ; old ; appear-'
ed in the,doorway: and: beckoned to
Mlllor that 'hfeC might enter. " He wept
In arid anxiously, approaches tlie ltiw
beri ;wljero tay.'enwpapppd. I,'riiri‘lapcif
- fully wrought blanket the,' little pink ‘
faced black-eyed tokbn Of bis early pas-'
,i ; j'l'lll ■■l'C-";*' '; 11' 111 1 (■ !
- And now Jbacplin riecame more
desirousof putting anijgpd.to trip rot-,
imance of the past year and, return once.
more to the scene* of' the' fonder life.—
His was a restless, roving, dissatisfied
disposltlori, arid l! the 'sehflmerit o¥ his
passion gone, it, could no linger brook
a hum-drum existence in the wild home
of the forest;
11 1X13 was an uncopim'on monia of mind;
' But made for action. 1U or good; 1 ■
’'Ckalin another land andscenS; \
Hla reckless: restless Will nttd been . '
11 A curse or blessing to bis kin," t
One day ho quietly worti hp to hla
dusky mate and ha y?M going
on a ylsjt to hla Wanda In Siskiyou.—
Tears stood in her great dark eyes, as
the announcement fell upon her ears,
for something within her 'seethed to
say:
i “Bofaorfemrlaatdatftiaslt’a’cloaei
And here UendJ.” hi.
She gazed longand earnestly Into the
deep blue eyes bo fore hpr, but could gep
no comfort from them,,for they were,so
cold as, stohe, as .uqbnpASsloped as the
rocky crags behind' her wlgwanK.i, Ho,
with a mtite appeal'for V mercy,' she
threvf her'afinp arojhqdlil|ii IppiJ
sobbed as if her heart would
But It made no difference. Miller was
determined to go, and, kissing her
brow,'he gently put her away froth
him, and giving only one look athh*
dusky daughter, strode out Into thq
sunlight and wended his way towards
the North.
That, so far as Is known, was the last
that Joaquin Miller ever saw of his
tawny, forest bride. Years passed
away. Ho mot, wedded, and deserted
the lady whoso letter In recital pf her
wrongs bos made her as famous In lit*
oraturo m the poet himself} but he
never again acknowledged the Indian
Woman, who/Outof the depth of her
great love, hod born hirii n child. Not
a great while ago that little child, horn
in the forest gloom, came into hlspoa
tesslon, How, exactly, when, of where,
doesnot appeaf.bnt It’ la Ilvlng aad
alls Joaqnlh lllUfer' •* fathe*; I ’. Shejis 1
how fifteen yoara 0$ ’and llyiOg.ln Bkn-
Francisco 1 ,’ supported IhJpi' thh pOet’s
purse* Sheia' described as strlKlngiy
r ,■ • , ■ .--u, • ■ 11J '■ • !■■:>!> ;,(|1 ; ■
beautiful.
She had her mother’d deep dark eyps,
and wealth of raven hair, and her fath-"
er’e clear, Caucasian akin. Her neigh
bors call Her the beautiful SpanlihgUl,'
‘ fiJt' 'they tripw 1 tyh't tidtf 1 ton^iin 1
tory; but tqihorpwn I raided late frlqnihi
she is known aa thepoot’s giftediilhijd.'
It is but jdstlco to Miiler'to Bay fhat he' ’
is exceedingly fond of her, 3 and' doies
everyth Ingin hlspowor to make: Her
comfortable’ and happy,.; He baa pro-
I vlded for her education,and she already
shbws traded of that genius which ( has
made her father., famous, and herself
proud, and happy to. be t .called his,
though the child of love only. ; '
' ,: Of Her 1 mbthOr' nothing ■|s l knowhi—
Hop of jhery apd, says the only; pictureC
sh'bcanrecaU,of’beilfatJy; yeaip.hj.the
memory of a face, anda weary*,
desolatehonHelni^utotlthe'hftnhdbf
;th^erdm%tbr ; '»;1
••WrlnWod nod brown as,a bag o( Laatbcj-,
: .': A 9qpaw s(ts moaning fPßgaud }ow. (~ ( -
, t (ib,«wa»pwlfy,fwdlpofi>or, K I
, . Xo-dapphVV) rocking Jim, to f,V<XXtf. . ! ,
Garden GroVe < Wiiflfy
JSriUrjprti'e concluded' td 1 auapWdJ'lDhd
(poQtoy.lterp pro
I 'the llnes'S>i.-."Mii •. .v. . - r ' l
b; 1 .. h'.v^
i ! .J ± . ! ;
1,I■'ll wmtWm .T!« W• I
, | ipp gffapfyiflUtiiiptK «y, .. ,
" Toll yo bollSj Uio Had, aa<l (story, ‘ ' •
'' 'vftlns liVrat onto tn« m&U, ;
Tnat (though JtnoWn 1 to Tdfnfl ana glory) .
’ • v \ ,
Wl'it tshta-thongli lon* berofo.' ’
'''BtlU'll’mtntrownmt afloat; ,
■■ Ho.whogrlevo»not,'l»l»«tolo, 1 I
v '' 0)1, fot the tears of all fall fast, ' |
i'ii.:■■■■• 'ill! I'• ■ ; " t i "■ 1 J'P'
Wouldypn Know Uio causo, dear readers,
, Whythopaporgtopp to-day r, ■,\ ■;
• 'llsheoauso so ipauyof yon ;;;
... Owe the riusrom , ' i
ginger, ope of lard, one tablespoonful of
ealeratoß. half ■ pint of mplarasi, half a
teaonpfnl of water, with sufficient flour
to knead soft, poll thin and bake In a
quick oven,
CLkANiNo ; GtjrrA PERdHA.“ThIB can
be done by using a mixture , of soap and
powdered charcoal, polishing afterwards
with a.'dry cloth with a little charcoal on:
It;' . i
Smoky IlAJtos.L-iro proved! thc'smok-
Ing of a lamp, soak the Wick In strong”
vinegar; dtul dry: It'"well before you use
■lt; It will then burn brlght and clear,
and i amply i repay you for. , the trifling,.
labor..' '
Brown Bread;—Two oupa "of'corn
meal, abb cup of flour, ’two 'baps sour
milk, 1 tWo teaspoonsful soda, One-half cup l
of molasses; ohe tbaspobhftil Halt. 1 Bteaui
two hours, then bake one-hal f hour.
Serve hot. |; '■"■"j ' ‘
Ink Frqm Floors.—lnk' spotta on
floors can be extracted by securing with
■and wetted In. oil of vitroll and. water.
When tile Ink hi'rimoved,"rinse with
strong pearlaeh wat?r.
Lemon Cream PiES.—Juloaand gra
ted rind of one Jetnou, yolks, pf three
eggs, five tablespoonsful of sugar, a small
lump o( butter and three tablespoonsful
of « our - , ,1: mu-.i '-i
i! ’ f
. Omelptte.—SlX egga, bßat the wbltesj
andyolks separately, until, very ,light,
then stir together; add, pp,salt, ee,lt,wlll
i make. It, Peary., Put,;on, a i ppt, grldd |e
allgUUy. greased Witt? blitter; ,wpen,n(coiy
browppd, pot.
6Bua OFjgonop..' ‘' ; •
■ Men find It morb ! easy 16 flatter than’
to pfalse. ’ ■' “•' " .„ 1 '
Whosoever is unchaste'cannot rever
ence himself. : i ,
' Modern poets i&t agreatdealofwat
etld thelV Ink. oilt -v.i.- "o,l''“ id , |
/THE klod mortal js greater thap the
jn'heavey. v ' ' , ,
PRivATE oplnlon Is weak, public opin
ion is <almost omnipotent- ,
" A CoAylls a' tetter 1 of credit Written
with a needle upon broadcloth.
men Ttyo'better t wifh past or
future' ages' than With the' present.
THEjRE )s no, false religion that dooe
hot contain some elements of truth.
: Wbat'lb the best government 7 That
which teaches,us to govern ourselves.
, Nest ito. theology, »ays iLuther, I give
plapaanddjonot., i i
PerveOt vatbr'is'to d 6 Without'Wit
nesses what "one would do. before all the
world. ;i
In this theatrt of man's life, It is re
served only for God and the angels to be
lookers on,
. A humble knowledge of thyself is a
adrer way to' God tbah a deep search af
ter learning- “ '■
,1: Postmasters sboald< tear la l mind
.thatwhon a > newspaper 4s not, lined,,
they ora required to sehd the publisher,
« written nottceof the fact; Be turning
a paper -marked "Refused or Not;
lifted,'’ i ler ■■ hot l mdfflcWntiv Often - the
publisher cannot'toll.lroia'What office
such paper /Is returned) and frequently ‘
there arotwo or taora men of the same
name on the-subscription list, aqd it' is
not known which “to slflKe off. SUb
scflbptp’; that'lt
is contrary to pubilshor’a, rule*, to dls.
continue a paper till all arrearages arc;
paid, A little attention to those mat
ters would save nmob.Utno lo printing
offices, , i
•' Ms, James, how do you keep your
books V' "Oh, by double entry,"
" Double entry, how’s that ? Easy
enough ; I make ons entry, and father
makee the other,’’
~ j J,
OM
Vt)L SO-rNO. 25
, " Save Yodr ■ HusKh.—They dfe ex
cellent in, Winter for'cattle, especially
With a Ilttle'Balt water gpHokled over
them. There is no bettor- lilatS than
those made-from~bnßterßn(l one can be
hours;
,bra|d ats, sew
them, ,tbe> B xt, ani jrpu, %e a apb
stpntialmiit to last tho winter.
To mitttiewes^/el ‘the boys
an, old fork tt),o ,fi|Bk.i ,when
youhayp: eno^h.BdVltb'pm/toa'tjck,
m-, or
wool. 1( have a machine
tressos as gop.d, as neyy by
ripping t|ienu to. pij^, ; gfvJ(nfl
tep ts of the jtickj
.nwyfcff ,«u’ < 4^.,w5-
fresh material to mato tip the,rjK|}||red
’■ ■■■■■'. ■■.. m
■ l ' Persons Who cobdamn" , cbm;fOddiar
as “innatrltloua” htd ! Inivltod 'hy'Pds
chall Morris, of the PracHaXl 'Farmer,
'to tonatderthe.'ways'‘of 1 a ‘prodiiDent
dairynian' ‘‘ whose butter is excelled 1 by
no other in the'Philadelphia market,”
and who “ pretty; nltlcly sustained fifty
eight cows otf' Sowed ddrn froth " the
middle of last duly to thd imlddle of
October, and that,'too,‘from the' prdv
duct of three acres.” He 'estimates
that he'took ninety tons of this “ Innu
tritions” substance' from the 1 space 1 In
dicated, dad'he knows'that'his 1 cows
did not fall off in their milk daring
these three ’month's of drought, baffhat
some Increased the flow, and that the
butter wav tolly dp to the standard. 1
,;i .... I'.,' ii- -n i :ii jii - . i>i
'Pbesons wh'o ‘have'iStit bfe'hh In the
habit of drinking buttermilk fco’nslder
16‘ ‘disagreeable, 'bbcadsri ‘it ll) ’ slightly
acldjln couSeqhhnco 'of‘the 1 Jrriesencbof
'of lactic arild." thereis riot much nour
lahtaent Ini battermllk)but thri presehcb
Wf the labile actdaisilits tbe'digestibn of
•any food taken' with lt.‘ ''
peLants almdst live upbn batcftkJes and
imltdHnilk, u Invalids, eiiffprl'n^.'Jrpm
indigestion prl|l' do woU W drlnk but
tormllk at meal time. ~ ’ i
' CaibKEN CtraESß.—Boll two chickens
till tender, take, pul al| the bones,'and
chop tba meatpno, season to ,your taste
With salt* pepper;and butter,•,poor in
enough , of liquor they were bolted In to
(hake It moist, pot Into whatever in bold
you wish, and when cold tarn oat and
out Into siloes.
'ng,ia«q.|»«q.i»«i-IU * |>K» n col
"'^SK
Hi
l ?
ir *}S fBSW» •*.» •»«
3" .3 00 <OO 500 <OO IT 00 00 -00 00
<" 200 '<.7s' ffi'Tß •C 75 J 2 60 1)5 00 82 00
6“ 800 -SM 6:60 7 80. MOO .20 00 So 00
6*' 860 660 760 8601860, S 3 60 'B7 60
3m .< 00 7,60 860 iS. USO 25 00 <3 60
8- SCO 860 8-60 10 60 20 00 80 00 60 00
8“ 760 10 00 13 60 1600 28 00 60,00 76 00
ir hooo IS DO WOO 2600 •J OO- WM 100 00
\> Twoljo Unot cgnalUat*6«bf»n)ll ul
For Executors’ and Atlm'rm'. Notices a ,
i For Auditors'Notions,; no vt Tiimia 00
For AMlgnMM'aaOilmlJjir NoUCM.. - ,8 00
For Yestly Csrd».‘n6t«kc*«slloa six Mom, 1 7 00
For Announcements nvo cents tier line
loss contractod for by the year.
' Forßußlqew trmt epscial Hauers. loom’.:
per lino. .... *. .
.DoablooolainiiaaTOl.jßemeiiUritra, ’"o
:
Spreading Uoniira, in . Winter, lt
'■ Wo'are asked What advbntagotilore
Is-’ In’ spreading ■ •matiiire' on frozen
ground'. It depends mdob iibofl ’th o
' condition'd! the ground.' 7 Iflclsdov
eredwith' 1 grass’/- dlthfet‘ a 1 pftktnrd or
meadow; them ‘iS'dirtfeit advantage in
'more than'bn6 redpebtt; Tbd-‘aiirfade Is
1 protected fWin' afrddoiJ (;HAr(yc3' dtit‘i ng
1 winter, 1 find’ 1 1 he
‘inanu'Te to thdrebtaj Who/e it catfebs 11
vigorous growth ' early intbe'ipffint:.—
If the gretiriffia' 'pwwod 'ter a'airtgio
cCOp.'it Is alSo iienefltted by’Hdvibg'tho
rnUmiro ready' tbbe absorbed byHho
'soil wbebever th'e'grdand'thafrs; 1 tho
seed; as soon as' It sprouts,' 1 finds
what it needs close at ; hand.' On sod
ground to be plowed fur corn in the
spring', the same advantages are gained
as in tiid case'of'grass lands, and'the
manure 1 is on the spot in time, which
ini n iate season it might ; n'6t'be/ for
want of time dr Irripfopet' cbddlllon of
the ground. " 1 But'afteC 'all/ It is far 1 bet
ter td'gdf the rdddurd'diidn fheground
before it Is' frozoni if pdsaitle; Ihi felrller
Vtt v tK6 1 fall/' thd bSttleri'Wlnlet' 'lop
drd&liigdf gratb'lsdbT/h 'pdhi'subatl
tu£e' 'at 'best' for a'' ‘ptopdr
preparation InWdfali/ idd'rltlble'fiays
! fdtth’d'trobblfe/tinles*' itniaifb& iri the
advantage'' gained 1 'thd 1 wn
Cld+etV " ,l '* '- f •'"''l'ania iisiff lu
!' :: '( toifrr 1 ■ j'ml'iillu'lii- 1
i, HfEp ÜBfs.J?wBAWDpBrt-T7?'hc, iI/)n
dou..*Ve&f, ppu ()f ♦fm, ‘)lBh«i('lihuti!ori
,;ties, Ifiaya,i9f oftliPtWr the
horep ,on ltt« the depth, pf, njupjflfihes,
raking off the damp r spiled,surface
pvory spreading ,evenly
ft
or five, times a,; y,ear. ddypn^ees
*pm
.state a Ifvf Which, give .it, in
raatlon, Its, greatest superiority over
straw. .It U musi "cleaner, apifijnore
.paaliy ’MjTanged i^.'an^^of ,'ppch
first cost, malting in, the.end.
excellent' manure./, It‘,lspeculiarly
beupflcial to the feet, affording them a
cool','porous Bluffing, the
,soil of earth
of a horpe 'atj grass',. l ari«l prdefaUj, the
nearest rjMemhippife,,, .pppes’
natural j 'mfnever
had a diseased
lion of sawdust ip now some,
years since. Horses bedded'ou'sa wdust
are' freer . from .dust 'and staiht than
whbn on ordinary lltter.'sKfiply because
sawdust Is a beltbr’-absOrtiont perhaps,
and testify their approval of It by fro
quentlylylngdotvd-for hours In the
day. It has also the reputation of be
ing uneatble—an advantage which all
In charge Of horses With 'the habit of
. Goop Stook.—A celebrated., Irish
farmer gives "thlsAflvlce to- one young
In btock-raiaing buSinteS 1 :" ’
; -.ft 'careful
not to, lose the!calf-flash; Ifybu do so
by starvibg the; animal at any,time of
■his growth, you lose the? cream—the
covering of the flesh samuchprlzSd by
All out retail, butchers.' Where-do all
the acrfcggy, Ibad.fiesbed, beasts come
from that we seel dallyln. our fat mar
ket;! and>. what la, the cause ofltheir
scragginess? It da because .they have
been stinted and starved at sotaue por
tion pi their growth; If the calf-flesh
is onqe lost, it can never be regained.—'
A great deal of , tallow may begot in
ternally by,high feeding; but, the ani
mal can never, again be’ made one that
will.,be, prized; by ;the great,,retail
butchorsi— Coleman’s Sural Worlds.