■ !5 PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
I , r; N a n fliUrtting* 20, 1838.
■ Scietfci) Doetrj.
[From the Press.]
WINTER EVENING.
I , jjiflir "neath my heavy footstep
),the cri>iy frostcd snow ,
Cruelly the north winds blow ;
S ' :c ,-omes no pleasant murmur
" Frum the <piiet glen below.
■ , . (j-voiced, the little brooklet
uo more the pleasant tune
iii.it it whispered me in June ;
■ j (be jry leaves ou the branches
■ " chatter sadly to the moon.
I ~ line downward through the valley,
■ flinging wealth of pearly snow ;
Clouds are blushing in the glow,
kit bv I'hof'nus when he parted
o'er the hill an hour ago.
- ift'uiag shade of
W; Twiukies now one golden eye
hi the calm eternal sky ;
> ;;ie . ; iy hills by the river,
■ ' Bare and wasted, sleeping lie.
H K,; yi.l drear, the titfal uiglit-wind
M ,among the pine-tops high—
js.tawug the laurels by,
H • , n the rustling branches
g a liie trailing wild vine clings,
>iU d i - softly fold their wings ;
y, lie eiusc, like living tilings.
I .pliv- 'nmu the stunted lir trees
> t the thi< k'aing shadows creep ;
H .
I . ; i i.i, knees, dream the Islands
H , uere the icy waters sleep.
H : • ,>\>r tiie stately pine-tops.
! liitithful ijueeu of night
lV.se- in her downward flight—
■ Sjk ], : i:as her iueffettual tires
A- she bids the world goodnight.
® ,-t'rinir in the dcep'ning shadows,
l'liaatoms pour from deep ravines ;
From the C' verts of the pines ;
H From I 1 tic ii.ir.uta by woodland waters,
iite'lin- crags, and caves, aud mines.
■' '.ginglv th'-ir cold wings flutter
By ny creejiißg, stilTning hair,
A- they cleave the icy air ;
H A: .11 see their myriad columns
Sin o'er the furrows bare.
Aad! hear their low. sad wliisp'rings,
■ As 1 pause with list'ning ear ;
■ Ah! were not the village near,
■ lit.iri:._ such mysterious noises,
1 should reel. methiuks, with fear 1
K i Yew you on another shore—
Ye have stirred my heart before !
y Vi e-. ye are all pervading —
B Ye are whisp'ring evermore !
Ti.f pnrjik' line has fled the valley ;
Sow tin- sickle moon is down ;
I t>l. ::iily the saow-clouds frown;
I Aad the bare hills by the river
■ let j deeper shade have grown.
!%1 * * * *
I
Onre again in march sublime,
Night h.s clasped the hand of Time,
A Ed' ;e trooping star- in gladness
"ull-'.i) ired Earth's natal hymn.
H TovivuA, 15th March, I*s s. J. M.
I Hi scc 11 aitcd ns.
[From l.ife Illustrated.]
HOW TO EARN A HOME.
Tiie other evening I came home with an ex-
B'& teu do,lar hill in my pocket—money that
IB- v. earned by out-of hours work. The fact
11 a clerk in a down town store at a
B< ol .41,00 per annum, anil a pretty wife
■ baby to support out of it.
* ' ; i. '-e t!i income wiii sound amazingly
■-" 'o your two and three tliou.sand dollar
( ' b is, hut nevertheless we contrive to
■ T< -' r ) comforiably upon it We live on one
■ " >'• unpretending little boose, for which
■;i • *' 3o per annum, and Kitty —my wife,
understand—does all her own work, so
B*t lay up a little sum every year. I've
V e of two or three hundred dollars
r savings hank, the hoard of several
and it is astonishiug how rich I feel !
Rothschild himself isn't a circumstance
>■' a.e!
' came home with my extra bill, and
f ' it triumphantly to Kitty, who of
' as di lighted with my industry and
-3 w, my love," said I, "just add this to
-at at the bank, and with interest at
• .of the year—"
li 1 commenced casting interest
1 '.luting in my brain. Kitty was si
: -u rocked the cradle musingly with her
■ l(, en thinking, Harry !" she said af
''ueiit - pause, " that since you've got
"a money we might uiford to buys
- This is getting dreadful shabbv, n.y
1 ■; : dolefully at the rug ;it was worn
■iu;, ,Y enough, that was a fact.
[. 1 - l; get a beautiful uew velvet pattern
U c , l! J 'htrs," resumed my wife.
|.i :i dollars 1" groaned J.
f. ■ bien, a common tufted rug like this,
•y cost three," said my cautious bet
■v iO seeing she could'nt carry her
k.; al " ;j iUou.s point, wisely withdrew her
an, 1 " 1 *' 8 more sensible," said I. "Well
shout it."
.'V;' 1 tare's another thing I want," con
'-yT•, putting her hand coaxingly
'Jiiior, "and it's not at all extrava
!s I asked, softening rapidly
. -/A * f { ffft g . -
" I saw such a lovely silk dress pattern on
Canal street this morning, and I cau get it
for six dollars —only six dollars, Harry ! It'd
the cheapest thing 1 ever saw."
" But haven't you got a very pretty grecu
silk dress ?"
" That old tiling! Why, Ilarry, I've worn
it ever since we've been married."
" Is it soiled, or ragged ?"
" No, of course ; but who wants to wear
the same green dress forever ? Everybody
know? it is the only silk I have."
" Well, what then ?"
" That's just a man's question," pouted
Kitty. " And I suppose you have not ob
served how old-fashioned ray bonnet is get
ting 1"
" Why, I thought it looked very neat and
tasteful since you put on that black velvet win
ter trimming."
" Of course—you men have no taste in such
matters."
We were silent for a moment ; I'm afraid we
both felt a little cross and out of humor with
one another. In fact, on my journey home, I
had entertained serious thoughts of exchang
ing my old silver watch for a more modern
time piece of gold, and hud mentally appropri
ated the ten dollars to furthering that pur
pose. Savings bank reflections had come
later.
As we sat before our fire, each wrapped in
thought, our neighbor, Mr. Wilmot, knocked
at the door. He was employed in the same
store as iuyself, and his wife was an old family
friend.
" I want yoa to congratulate me," he said,
taking a seat. " I have purchased that little
cottage out on tiie Blooniingdale road to-day."
" What ! that beautiful little wooden cot
tage witli the pia/.zrr and lawn, and fruit
garden behind ?" exclaimed Kitty, almost en
viously.
"Is it possible ?" I cried. A little cottage
home of my own, just like that 1 had often
admired on the Bloomingdale road, had always
been the one crowning ambition of my life—a
distant and almost hopeless point, but no less
earnestly desired.
"Why, Wilmot," said I, "how did this
happeu ? You've only been in business eight
or ten years longer than I, at a salary but
a trifle larger than mine, yet I could as soon
buy up the Mint as purchase a cottage like
that."
" Well," said my neighbor, "we have all
been working to this end for years. My wife
has darned, patched, mended, and saved—we
have lived on plain fare, and done with the
cheapest things. But the magic charm of the
wiiole affair was that we laid aside every pcu
ny that was not needed by actual positive
want. Yes, I have seen my wife lay by reu
coppers, one by one."
" Well, you are a lucky fellow," said I, with
a sigh.
" Times are hard, yon know, just now. —
The owner was not what you call an econm-
I ical man, and he was glad to sell, even at a
noderate price. So you see that even hard
times have helped me !"
When our neighbor was gone, Kitty and I
looked meaningly at one another.
" Harry," said she, " the rug isn't so had,
after all ; and my green silk will do for another
year, with care."
" And a silver watch is qnite as good, for
all practical purposes, as a gold repeater, 7
said I. "We will set aside all imaginary
wants."
" The ten dollar lull must go to the bank."
said Kitty, " and I'll economize the coppers,
just as Mrs. Wilmot did. O ! how happy she
will be, among the roses iu that cottage gar
den next spring !"
Our merry tea-kettle sung us a cheerful
little song over the glowing fire that night,
and the burden v as, " Economy and a home
of your own, amid the roses and the country
air !"— Harry Clover.
DEACON BRIGGS. —Old Deacon Briggs is ns
remarbable for his closeness as was Dickens'
man, Barkis. His name has come to be a
proverb in our region for such an economy as
ever makes a man the subject of ridicule and
contempt. One bitter cold morning a few falls
ago, he bade the boys drive together all the
pigs that were to be fattened for the market,
into the little yard jnst at the corner of the
house. A pig was caught by one of the young
sters ; the Deacon with a pair of pincers in
one hand, and a sharp knife in the ot her, seiz
ed the uufortunate by the tail, and cut it off
dose up. So on through the whole herd, leav
ing not a pig with even a stump of a tail.—
Cort, who worked for his grandfather, stood
by in amazement —his hands in his pockets,
his toes turned in, his old fur hat over his ears,
his body warped into a crescent by the cold,
and his teeth drawing against the outrage
with a prodigious clatter. At last be stuttered
out : I
"Grandpa! What are you cutting oil"
those tails for ?"
Sober aud solemn was Deacon Briggs as lie
replied :
" You never will be a rich man, for you do
not know what it is to be savin'. You ought
to know, my child, that it takes a bushel of
corn to fallen an inch of tail
Cort lias gone to the west, and, in the corn
growing bottoms of Michigan, has taken to
the ruisiug of tailless porkers.
Scotch parson was betrayed into
more puns than lie meant to make, wiiou he
prayed for the Council and Parliament, that
they might hang together in these trying
times. A countryman standing by, cried
out :
" Yes, witli al! my heart, and the sooner
the better ; it's the prayer of all good peo
ple."
" But my friends," said the parson, " I
don't mean as that fellow does, but I pray
that they may all hang together iu accord aud
concord."
" No ujattor what cord," the fellow sang out
again, " so it is only a strong one "
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
Macaroni Making.
It was towards the afternoon that we got
into Atnalfi. A host of touters besieged us in
vain ; and as Donicnico, the driver of the coach
that brought us, usually gets a fee from the
padrone of the inn for ever guest he brings, he
was eloquent in its praise. An army of beg
gars surrounded us, shouting for a" bottiglia
and, thus accompanied, we arrived at the door
of the Locanda dei Cappucnii where the Don
Mattheo is something of a magnilico, aud
seems to think it somewhat of a condescension
to play the host. The fare and treatment are
very good.
I had a special object in view, which was to
describe the great branch of industry by which
Amalfi and the neighborhood subsist.
" Where will you take us, Luigi," said I to
my cicerone, " to see macaroni made ?"
" Well, sir, Garabardella is the largest
maker," was the reply.
Off we went to the great flour prance of
Atnalfi. A stream of water rushing down
from the mountains iu front of a great factory
marked the place we were in search of ; but,
before entering, I stopped to purify my shoes
from dirt acquired in the way. One rushed
to get water, another straw, and another a
brush.
" I'll skin this stranger !" said the first of
my eager assistants. "If I don't get half a
piastre out of him—may I be hanged !"
" You have made a mistake," I replied, in
Italian. On which the whole party laughed
heartily.
The scene within the fabrica was comical
enough. A crowd of men and boys, halfblind
with flour, and as white as cauliflowers, sat
on a lever bumping up and down, and making
it describe the arc of a circle. Grinding, sif
ting, mixing, kneading aud pressing were all
going on in the same place ; the manufactured
article being taken to another place to dry.—
With pencil iu hand and book ou a sack, I
began to take notes.
" He is going to make a story about me,"
said oue of the men who had mustered around
us.
" No, he is not," said others ; " lie is going
to set up a macaroni fabrica in England."
" Sinor ! will you take me with you ?" said
a sharp 'ooking, fair-complexioned, young man
" Fifteen hundred ducats only will set it a
going."
The poor fellow was really in earnest, I
believe, and was somewhat disappointed when
1 assured him of his mistake.
The grain used for making macaroni is of
the very hardest quality, is grown priucipally
in l'uglia, and is known as Saragala. It is
washed in the mountain stream which flows
down from behind the city, and woe to the
wearied traveller who is awakened at the
dawn of day by the numerous grain washers
The operation is cleverly and rapidly done,
and amusing enough it is to watch it. When
ground—which it is by the action of water
mills—the flonr is sifted into five different
qualities. The first is called Farina, which,
being sifted, is divided into Fiore and Brenna.
The tiorc is used for making the ordinary
macaroni while the brenna is used as food for
horses and pigs. The fiore is itself again sifted
until a yet finer quality, colled azemmatura, is
formed. This is used to make a superior kind
<.i macaroni. A last sifting produces semoliua
the finest kind which can be formed.
The flour is well mixed in a large tub, in the
proportion of twenty-four caraffa of water(a
caraffa being about a pint aud a half,) to a
hundred aud fifty Neapolitan pounds of flour.
The quantity thus used, goes by the name of
a Pasta, and is put on a large kneading board.
At the farther end of the board a long lever
moves horizontally by a swivel ; and, on the
other extremity of it, sit three or four half
naked girdled men, who, for three quarters of
an hour move backward and forward on a kind
of horizontal see saw describing diminutive
arcs of circles. In this way the lever is brought
to bear upon the dough, kneading and cutting
it till it is r< aiy for pressing. The men
remind one offigures in Egyptian drawings; stiff
and unnatural. Tis hard work, however, and
there is always a relief party to take the place
of the exhausted men. The last operation is
most important, as it gives its character and
form to the macaroni.
There are various kinds of macaroni, or
pasta, rejoicingjin different names, as vermicelli
stellata, starred, acine, dippe, ricei fuitant,
flowing rocks ; semaza di meloni, melon seed ;
occhi di pernici, partridge eye ; capclletti, lit
tle hats ; stivallettion, small hoots ; pnnti del
ago, needle-points. The first is that long sort
which we English use as a dolce or au gratin.
All the others are used to thicken soup, like
barley. First let tue speak of the vermicelli.
When kneaded, the dough is put into a large
copper cylindrical vessel, hollow above ar.d
below ; but at the lower extremity is fixed a
moveable plate, perforated with holes. When
held up to the light, it looks like the section
of a honey comb, being circular. On the top
of the cylinder is a block corresponding to its
size, and the w hole is then exposed to the ac
tion of the press. Screw goes the press and
fur below from out of the boles of the cylinder
a scrfes of white worms protiu le their heads.
Screw, screw again, and out they come, longer
and longer ; until having arrived at the legi
timate length, they are cut off ; and so the
operation of screwing and cutting is continued
until the whole quantity of dough is exhausted.
The vermicelli is then hung upon poles for
drying, which requires usually about eight
days under favorable circumstances, a north
wiiul being always preferred, as a sirocco wiud
is preferred for the kneading. With regard
to the smaller kinds of paste, they arc made
by a mixture of machinery and hand-work. —
THUS the cylinder being placed horizontally,
a man with a razor stands by the side ;and,as the
dough protrudes through the holes, he cuts
it off imediftely into small bits, —a simple and
primitive method cuongh. The smallest kinds
of all are made, however, by hand and prin
cipally at Minori and Majuri, two small villa
ges which wo passed on route for Amalfi. In
fact, the whole coast lives by making and eat
ing macaroni : and one probable reason of this
is, that lying, as the whole of this district does
under lofty mountains which are intersected by
deep ravines down which pour mighty torrents
there is an unlimited supply of water power,
I was informed that in j\ma!fi alone, about
eighty thousand tomoli of flour are consumed
annually for all purposes ; a very smail pro
portion for bread, for your macaroni eater is
not a great bread eater. Altogether, there
are about twenty fabriehe of macaroni in the
city each fabrica employing in the simple man
ufacture of the article about 15 hands. Then
a much larger number of persons are occupied
in the washing, and preparation, and carriage
of grain ; for every tiling is done by hand, arid
great numbers prepare macaroni on a small
scale, without dignifying their more limited
enterprises with the title of fabrics Gam
burdella is evidently the great man of the
place, for lie imports his own grain ; has four
brigantini, of two hundred and fifty tons each
which bring up grain from Munfrcdonia and
Sicily ; and what Gambardella does not con
sume, he sells among his neighbors.
Let me now put on a paper cap and a white
apron, and, before concluding this article, give
some experienced hints on the cooking of
macaroni. In England it is boiled to a pulp
—error the first. First take your water, as
Mrs Glass might say ; let it boil well, and
then put in your macaroni. The finger will
soon ascertain whether the macaroni L soften
ing ; and before it loses its consistency, you
must take it up. Now then for your sauce.
You may mix with it either a good tomato
sauce, or a rich meat gravy, and a [date of
grated cheese most penorce sprinkle your mac
aroni. There are many other more complicat
ed and luxurious ways of dressing the arti
cle, which are beyond the reach of my science.
With the smaller kinds you will enrich your
soups, and some of them you may convert in
to a really delicious dish, called Driest Stran
gles, so fond are the reverend gentlemen said
to be of it.
When we had finished our survey, we found
the horses at the door, and so was Domenico.
I). Mattheo, from a window at the priino
piano, was making divers elegant and eon
descending bows to us. We rushed through
a host of beggars, who beset the path, aud
away we dashed through Atrauii, Majuri, and
all ot'nar places which we traversed the day
before. There was not a cloudlet in the hea
vens, and tiie heat was nil too powerful ; yet
it was the middle of November. What a
cimate ! and yet what a government.—House
hold Words.
153?" Some people have a penchant for mar
ring the finished works of Nature around them,
as if there was too much of them.
We have an acquaintance who, like most al!
the world, is the proudest of precisely the qual
ities he does not posses?, which in his ease,
happen to be, a knowledge of farming and
sound practical sense.
And he has the worst type of this trimming
mania. lie hasn't a cow upon his premises
that he has not mutilated ; he has sawed off
the horns of one, brought the tail of another
to " a premature end," and cut a triangular
slice out of the ears of all of them.
He purchases beautiful creatures, but once
within reach of him, they do not remain beau
tiful long. He covcrted n horse and bought
him ; a finished piece of work he was,and such
a mane, that rippled down his neck in glossy
waves, and how grandly he tossed it ! Job
would have been delighted to look at him.—
Well, the first thing this poor tailor and trim
mer of God's creatures did, was to shear the
horse of the glory of his mane, and now this
perpetrator of " mayhem" as the lawyers have
it, regards with great complacency, the brist
ling ridge, that looks like a monstrous shoe
brnh with a horse for a handle.
lie had a valuable dog, but be mrt-d needs
divest him of as fine " a brush" as a dog ever
said " thank you" with. Not a pig iu his do
main but has been reinorsely " cut off 7 ' in the
innocence of pighoo l.We do not believe hewo'd
accept of an estate if it were entailed, or be a
merchant if the goods must be retailed. Had
he been the Duke of Venice in Othello's time,
the Moor would have " delivered" nothing by
any body's " gracious patience," for the Duke
would have abridged the tale without regard
to mercy or orthography.
His cm tai iug mania was n>t content with
mutilating the animal kiugdom, for he so brush
ed up and trimmed up the trees in his orchard,
flmt they looked like so many rows of chuckle
headed scholars, newly washed and shorn for
a holiday. Not an outline of beauty preserv
ed ; not a branch to sway gracefully in the
wiud.
Could ho have had his way, ho would have
cut scollops in the edge of the horizon, or slic
ed out a section ns if it were a pie.
And the secret of the whole matter was,
that his soul was shaped like a quadrant box,
and his ideas were isosceles triangles.— L>. F.
Taylor.
CORN IN THE EAR—A very clever writer
for Godey got off a good story some time since
about an Irishman, who being told by his
master to srive a " warm mash" to the black
filly, endeavored to pour the horse feed down
tiie the throat of Bhilhs, the respectable color
ed cook. Tiie same literal obedience to or
ders occurred a short time since in New-
Jersey.
A farmer who had employed a green Ern
eralder, ordered him to give the mule some
corn in the car. Ou his coming in the far
mer asked :
" Well, Pat, did you give the corn V
"To be sure 1 did."
" How did you give it ?"
" Au shure as yez tould, 1n the ear."
" But how much did you give ?"
" Well, yez see the crnythur wouldn't stand
still, and kept switching his ears about, so I
conkln't git not above a fisht full in both of it?
ears,"
COQUETTE. — A human WASP that tries to
pass itself off for a bee
THE WKDOIXU lit NO FINGER. —This is the
fourth finger on the left hand. Why this par
ticular digit should have received such a token
of honor and trust beyond all its congeners,
both in Pagan and Christian times, has been
variously interpreted. The most common ex
planation is, according to Sir Thomas Browne,
" presuming therein that a |irticular vessel,
nerve, vein, or artery, is conferred thereto
from the heart which direct vascular com
munication Browne shows to be anatomically
incorrect. Maerobius gives another reason,
which may jierhaps satisfy those anatomists
who are not satisfied with the above. " Pol
lex," he says, or thumb (whose offices and gen
eral usefulness arc sufficiently indicated from
its Latin derivative polleo, and from its Greek
equivalent, anlicheir, which means ' as good as
a hand'), is too busy to be set apart for any
such special employment ; the next finger to
the thumb being but half protected on that
side, besides having other work to do, is also
ineligible ; the opprobrium attaching to the
middle linger, called medicus, puts it entirely
out of the question f and as the little finger
stands exposed, and is moreover too puny to
enter the lists in such a contest, the spousal
honors devolve naturally on pronulns, the wed
ding-finger." In the British Apollo, 17S8, it
is urged that the fourth finger was chosen from
its being not only iess u-ed than either of the
rest, but more capable of preserving a ring from
bruises ; having this one quality peculiar to it
self, that it cannot be extended but iu compa
ny with some other finger, whereas the rest
may lie stretched out their full length aud
straightness.— Popular Errors Examined.
A WIFE C'OMI-RESSED INTO A RING.—A cer
tain R i -sian noble, who lately visited Paris,
was noticed to be constantly plunged in deep
j sadness, lie wore ou his finger a very re
markable ring, large enough for a bracelet,
i ail 1 extended cm r his hand like a buckler for
the ring finger. It was of a greenish color,
aud was traversed by red veins. It attracted
the attention of everybody, but no one was
bold enough to interrogate the mysterious
I stranger, until one day a lady, meeting him in
a public parlor, ventured to say, "You wear
a very handsome ring." The Russian made
a movement as though he would conceal his
hand, but that feeling gave way to a desire to
unburden himself. "If is net a ring," he au
i swered, " but a sepulchre !" A shudder pass
ed through the whole company. " This jewel,
madam," he continued, "is my wife. 1 had
the misfortune to lose her some years since, in
Russia. She was a:i Italian, and dreaded the
icy bed which awaited her after this life. I
carried her remains to Germany where I was
acquainted with a celebrated chemist, whom I
directed to make of the body a solid substance,
which I could always carry about me. Eight
days afterward lie sent for me and showed me
the empty coffin, a horrid collection of instru
ments and alembics. This jewel was lying on
a table. He had through means of some cor
rosive substances and powerful pressure reduc
ed and compressed that which was my wife,
into this jewel, which shall never more leave
me."
This burial by chemistry is an improvement
upon the process of cremation lately proposed
by the French papers. Should it become
popular a widow may hereafter have her hus
band made into a bracelet with a chain attach
ed to remind her of the hymeneal bond, a hus
band w ill have his wife done into a pin, and
certain academicians—old fogies—we know
would make very good coat buttons.—.Yew
York Tribune.
ITOXORARI.E CONDITIONS. —Many J*ears ago.
in what is now a flourishing city in New
Hampshire lived a stalwart blacksmith, fond
of Ids pipe and of his joke. He was : i)so fond
of his blooming daughter, whose many graces
and charms had ensnared the affections of a
young printer. The conple after a season of
billing and cooing, " engaged " themselves, and
nothing but the consent of the yonrtg lady's
" parent " prevented their union. To obtain
this, an interview was rrranged, and Typo pre
pared a little speech to astonish aud convince
the old gentleman, who sat enjoying his pipe
in perfect content. Typo dilated upon the
fact of their long friendship, their mutual
attachment, their hopes for the future, and
like topies, and taking the daughter by the
hand, said—" I now, sir, ask your permission
to transplant this lovely flower from its parent
bed " —hut his plicelinks' overcame him, he
forgot the remainder of Lis rhetorical flourish,
blushed, stammered, and finally wound up with
—" from its parent lied info my men." The
father keenly relished the discomfiture of the
suitor, and after removing his pipe and blowing
a cloud of smoke replied : " Well, young
man, I don't know as I've any objection, pro
vided yai will marry the gal first."
POVERTY AND G r.xius.—The history of those
who, 'tiicir genius and untiring energy, have
taken the sting from poverty and won lor theiu
selves a place in the catalogue of illustrious,
must ever lie interesting to the son of toil.—
Tiie greatness of real worth belongs to such
characters ; apart from lilgli birth and proudly
swelling titles, from the splendor of wealth
and station, and frequently without, the ad
vantages of early education, the children of
penury have marched on to honor, patiently
triumphing over the obstacles which impeded
their progress. The working man may well
glory in the uew and noble aristocracy which
his gifted companions at the loom, the plow,
and the anvil have helped to establish, and be
stimulated bv their example to show himself
worthy of the fraternity to which lie belongs.
t'V"The.man who ate his dinner with the
fork of a river, has been trying to spin a moun
tain top.
Rest satisfied with doing, and leave
others talk of you what, they please.
ftT? Good nature, like a glow worm, sheds
light p\en in dirty places.
VOL. XV 11L—IS O. 47.
" FASHOKAHI.K COXGKEGATOK." —The news
pafier reporters pay U very equivocal compli
ment to this or th.it preneher, wlieu they tell
us lie was listened to by a fashionable congre
gation. Fashion is all right ut the theater or
the opera,—or other public assemblages of a
.secular character, —but the jade ought not to
have anythinvr to do in the Temple of the
Most High. Think of Paul preaching, to a
" fashionable" congregation to Mars' Hill, —
or a greater than l'aul delivering a sermon on
the mount to a " numerous and fashionable
audience." True, we have fashionable preach
ers, but it is a question whether their preach
ing would not be followed with better effects
if the " fashion" were taken out of it. Fash
ion is a heartless thing at best, —and heart
lessuess in religion is hypocrisy.
TI;K USE OF POTASH AND SAND. —No vines
can produce fruit without potash. Dyewoods
and all color-given plants owe their viviikdyes
to potash. Leguminous plants all require pot
ash. Without it we cannot have a mess of
peas. Where it exists iu a natural state in the
soil, there we find leguminous plants growing
wild, and in such places only we find wild
grapes. All the cereals require potash, phos
phate of magnesia, and silica, which is dis
solvable in a solution of potasn. It is this dis
solved sand that forms the hard coat of the
stalks, and gives them strength to stand up
against the biast.s of wind and rain while
ripening. It is this substance that gives bam
boos their strength, or the beards of grain and
blades of grass their cutting sharpness. No
cereal ever came to perfection in asoil" devoid
of potash, silica, phosphate of lime, carbonic
acid and nitrogen.
THE SI'IDEB. —The worst thing about this
poor animal is that it is so thoroughly ugly.—
In it nature has sacrificed everything to the
formation of the industrial machine necessary
for satisfying its wants. Of a circular form,
furnished with eight legs, and eight vigilant
eyes, it astonishes (and disgusts) us by the
pre-eminence of an enormous abdomen. Ignoble
trap ! in which the inattentive and superficial
observer will see nothing but a type of glut
tony. Alas lit is quite the contrary. This
abdomen is its workshop, its magazine, the
jKieket in which the rope maker keeps his stock
but as lie fills this pocket with nothing but his
own substances, he can only increase it at his
own expense by means of a rigid sobriety.—
True type of the artisan. If I fast to-day,"
he says, " I shall, perhaps get something to
eat to-ir.orrow, but if my manufacture be stop
ped, everything is lost, und my stomuch will
have to fast forever.'
JrvKMi.F. GI MITIOX. —A farmer in Virginia
who had been digging a well, was called away
from home, leaving none but two boys on the
premises. During his absence, a favorite horso
by accident got into the well, which was about
twelve feet deep, and of sufficient diameter to
allow the horse standing room. The boys set
their young brains to work to get him ont.—
Their bill of " ways and means " was almost
exhausted, wheu the youngest, only nine years
old, suggested an amendment, which was im
mediately adopted. Large quantities of straw
were convenient, which the boys pitchedJn to
fill up the well, the prisoner tramping it down,
until he could walk right out upon " straw
bail."
A VIUGINIA PICTCRK—If the scene of the
following item, which we cut from the Wheel
ing Intelligencer, was located anywhere save iu
Virginia, we should doubt its truth :
" We saw yesterday, going up toward the
upper ferry, a team of four animals—a horse,
a pony, a mule, and a bull. The horse had
the heaves, the pony was blind, the nUile was
lame, and the hull had no provision for fly
time lu the wagon, which was an ordinary
one, there sat a white man, a crippled nigger,
and a tame skunk frailly bound with a wisp of
straw. The white man held the lines, the
team held its own, and the nigger held the
skunk, and they all moved forward. To make
this worthy of its place, it is essentad to say
that it is true.
A kind hearted wife once waited on a
physician to request him to prescribe for her
husband's eyes, which were sore.
" Let him wash them," suid the docter,
" every morning with brandy."
A few weeks after, the docter, chanced to
meet the wife.
" Well, has your husband followed my ad
vice ?"
" He has done everything in his power to
do it, docter, but lie never could get the brau
dy higher than his month."
Hub, Harry hiuitli has one of thegreut
est euriosties you ever saw."
" Don't say so—what is it V"
" A tree that never sprouts, and which be
comes smaller the older it grows."
" Well, that is a curiosity. Where did lie
get it ?"
" From California."
" What's the. name of it ?"
" Axle-tree 1 It onee belonged to a Cali
fornia omnibus."
gsj?* " Now, George, yon must divide the
cake honors! Iv with your brother Charles."
" What is honorable, mother ?"
" D menus that YOU must give him the lar
gest pieee."
" Then, mother. I'd rather that Charley
should divide it."
Why is the inside of everything mini
telligilile ? lb cause we i sn't make it out.
U 'Hold your jaw," a., the man said when
bis I tend was in the lion's mouth.
\ i HI*I I break mv !k. irt," as th" *lak
-aid fo th- hatchet