, M PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. I'OAN ANDA: K f-irsday Morning, April 21, 1859. ?fltricb Ipoctrn. THE STRANGER ON THE SILL. i;r T. lilt 11 ANAS' HEAD. i.r.ud fit-Ll of wheat and corn, . , T ME where I was born ; . I . leuw AGAINST the wall, HI * ihinr wanders over all ; -hadowy doorway still— I . i ijot has crosaed the sill. I I THE ham- and. as of yore, hay from the open door, T BUy swallows throng, I C , WEE'S monrnfn! song ; ■I r COOK* —O ' painful proof AN PILED to the heated coof. ' IT r hart the very trees, ILDBOOD MI well to please, I i , J the shadowy moments ruu, • ED U; RE of SHADE than sun ; R tl • -.ugh still WEEP* the air, , .•. r hildreu are swinging there. If! the shady spiing below, - r... K where the hareU grow ; ■' | .RE I ' ml the etiltnui root, lie !N!!IM • J'>i-* and shoot, M , . 11 robin lave his wiug— ■ ... bucket is at the spring. I, .jiiy ERTMS the kill, . H.R ! love it still ; H T crown the old barn eave*. I I (lib -s harvest sheaves K A that scented door, A tni > ves that are no more. * E LADIES OF BRADFORD COUNTY. I. inted for that purpose by .anid Regent of the " Mount Ve>- P , t ike I niotif — the undersigned M !!V -elicits vour assistance, one B rr tig into effect the noble aud j*. of that A-sociation with re- It and late residence of Wash ... K V JR and the considerations which ■ r- eloquently and beautifully set BJ Address which will be found be ll v. . I renders it unnecessary that i i T a CLED in this brief appeal, ex- IJ V I that it is desirable that the la- I d ff> rent townships or ueighbor- II I meet together and name one or I - . R-OIIS to ACTUS Assistant Lady _R< • - for <-ach place, and on their names I -> • ted, their appointment will be con- II : authorized subscription books and : paper will be sent them. It will I -urv that reports of subscriptions monthly. Every lady subscribing one I men a member of the general Asso lad will be duly returned and rcgister h. In INFORMING the duties of this it, I shall be very happy to receive, aw] edge and forward, any collec rh may bo made in this County, aud RE-pondcnce "111 relation to the object in II .1 be promptly and pleasurably atteud ■ -1 to. || ! OBVIATE any possible error in special ac ■J * UU ut S . the press of the County have 11 DIED to publish monthly reports of V* riptiotis. MRS. C. L. W ARD, ■ L.aily MANAGER for Bradford County. ■ 1 T 1 TIIE PEOPLE OK THE STATE OF FEN'N- I vaVIA, FOB THE PL'RCUASK OF MOUNT VER , J -> A toreprc-iHit,in this State, the " Mount . Ladies' Association of the Union," I I •<> : PPI-NL to the generous and patriotic ! Pet 1.-ylvauia, on this day, the anni-' }of TTIE birth of WASIIINOTI X, for their I .11 with the people of other States, ■ pletc the purchase of Mount VernoD. I 'I his residence and his tomb ; and I O it forever as a public and enduring 1 'AT of their unabated gratitude for his O RVFI.S, and increasing veneration for S! rious name. Gratitude to one whose C nerous and exalted ; veneration IN NAP Mich as his, of virtues that have U'-L the character of a public man, may T 1 - t lie deepest sympathies of the w omen \ erica, and embolden them to claim the 1 ' of their own sex alone, but of every | I ' *'■ j'istlj glories in lieing a countryman ington, and whose heart is moved by s the purest and noblest that man can H ler to mankind. I 1 ON ct of the Mount Vernon Ladies' I AT; M IS to obtain, by voluntary con tri- I\ a UM necessary to purchase and hold tottrer, two hundred acres of the Mount Ver ' tate 1:.. .udiiig the mansion where Wash ■ •!' It and died, his tomb, the garden '"•MID- around them, and landing at the '■•y WNICII they are approached. To , ' ' \ ••-Regents have been ap ' ' , 11 'kfenl S'.tAtfcs, with ludy-managers, " "UHUEES of ladies, and advisory . ", " - ul ' nen. in the various couu- A.I pi UCIPAI towns. Every person " 1J '* - U '. toward- this fund, is paid, I -nisure iy a jiermauent member of the "ia.ioii, aud is inscribed as SUCH in a record [ * , preserved at Mount Vcrnou.- 1 m ararrangeuieota will be immediately or z-.i throughout the State of Pennsylvania, , ■ " public announcement will be given of the ' IS wl,om subscriptions will he received registry of names be made, ■n -'e amount has been already collected places where those arrangements have . • Tiie public press, so iuflueu - 1 worii, has lout its powerful aid. Ltablisncd for philanthropic pur- Till: BRADFORD REPORTER, Washington himself belonged ; that of the Odd Fellows ; the voluntary military companies and firemen, and numerous bodies assembling together, for objects of utility and benevoleuce, have everywhere exhibited the deepest interest and united in this noble effort with most liberal spirit Patriotic individuals have come forward with prompt sympathy, to lead aud encourage their several communities ; and the cheering prospect is held out that this wide-pervading spirit, spreading through all parts of our com mon country, is insuring complete success. Into the alliance of general fellowship Penn sylvania is now to enter. Always distinguish-; ed by a devotion to works of voluntary benev- J olence, which is an inheritance bleuded with her name, she has, besides, peculiar associations connected with Washington, which relate to ! the noblest incidents of 'lis gieat caieer. It was in Pennsylvania that, on the day when the delegates from the colonies first met together, ; he appeared among them to join in the task ot j forming a common country. It was in Penn- ! sylvauia that, with unexampled modesty, and touching expressions of anxious but devoted | patriotism, he accepted the command of a little j armv, scarcely formed, and assumed therespon- \ sibilities of an urduous war. It was in Penn sylvania that, amid the fiercest severities of! winter, with troops almost famishing and nak j ed, he partook their hardships, cheered their j spirits, and kept them united to win the tri- j umphs to which he afterwards led them. It was to his " fellow soldiers and faithful fol lowers in the military line of Pennsylvania," that he expressed, when the war was closed and when a mind deeply affected, his grateful sense of their attachment ami aid. It was in Pennsylvania that he placed his all conciliating name to the Constitution which has cemented the Union. It was here that be became its first and most illustrious President ; it was here that he addressed to his country that memorable Farewell with which he closed his public aud immortal career. To ask, then, the women of Pennsylvania to unite with their sisters throughout the Uu iou in this tribute tc the memory of Washing tou—to appeal to all of the people of Pennsyl vania to give to this great object their generous encouragement and assistance—is but to solicit from them a patriotic service, to which his memory that cannot be surpassed, not hardly equaled, in any portion of that wide country which glories in his name. LILY L. MACALESTEII, Vice-Regent fur Pennsylvania of the Mount Vernon Ladies' Association. PHILADELPHIA, Feb. 22, 1859. Slllll e b Cit le. A SLI&IT METAtt AND WHAT GREW 01T OF IT. One cool afternoon, in the earlv fall, I, — Chester F. Leßoy, a gentleman—stood on the i platform of the Albany depot, watching the procession of passengers just artived in the Hudson river boat, who defiled past me on their way to the cars. The Boston train, by which I had come, waited patiently as steam and fire might, for their leisure, with only oc casional and faint snorts of remonstrance at i the delay ; yet, still the jostling crowd hurried ! past into the cars, and flitted through them in search of seats. Their increased numbers at length warned me that 1 might find it difficult to regain my own, and I followed them. " I beg your pardon, sir ?" I turned, in obedience to a touch on my arm, and saw a respectable-looking negro man be fore me, who bore the travelling bag and shaw l, and was evidently, the attendant of a slender aud stylish girl behind him. " I)o I speak," he said, bowing respectfully, and glancing at the portmanteau, on which my surname was quite legible, " do I address, sir, Mr. Leßoy." " That is my name—at your service—what can I do for you ?" The young lady, whose dark blue eyes had been scanning uie, as 1 could perceive through her blue silk veil, now lifted it with an exqui sitively gloved little hand, and extended the other to me, with a charming mixture of frank ness and timidity. " I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Leßoy," said she. " I thought 1 should know you in a moment, Jenny described you accurately. llow kind it was of you to offer to charge of uie. I hope I shan't trouble you." In the midst of my bewilderment at being thus addressed by the sweetest voice in tiie world, 1 managed to see that 1 must make a proper reply, aud proceeded to stammer out what I thought an appropriate speech, when the servant who had left us for a momeut, re turned, aud I abandoned it unfinished. " Did you see my baggage. Edward V asked his mistress. " Yes, Miss, it is all on." " Then you had better hurry to reach the seven o'clock boat. Good-bye, and tell thein you saw me safely off." I stood like one in a dream, while the man handed me two checks for the trunks, and en dued me with the light baggage he had carri ed, but I was aroused by the young lady ask ing me if we had not better secure our seats in the cars, and answered by offering her ray arm. In ten minutes we w-ere seated side by side, and trundling out of Albany at a rate that grew faster and faster. I had now time to reflect with that lovely face opposite me, but where was the use. Some strange mistake had undoubtedly happened, and I had evidently been takeu for another person I of the same name—but how to remedy this now, without alarming the iunoeent young la dy in my charge, how to find the right man, with the right name, among severul huudred people, and how to transfer her, without an un j pleasant scene and explanation, to the care of I some one whose person was no less strange to her than mine ! While these thoughts, whirled through my bead, I happened to eu counter those smiling eyes fixed upon me, aud their open, unsuspicious gaze decided me. " I will not trouble or distress ber, by any kuowl v 1g of her pccilloa," I concluded, " but will PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'HEAR A UOODRICH. " RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." just do my best to fill the place of the individ ual she took me for, and conduet her where ever she wished to go, if [ can only find where it is !" I turned to her with an affection of ease, which I was very far from feeling, and said : " It is a very long journey." "Do you think so ? But it is very plea sant, isu't it ! Cousin Jenny enjoyed it so much !" " Ah, indeed !" " Why, what a queer man !" she said, with a little laugh. " Does she never tell you as she does me in all her letters, how happy she is, and that St. Louis is the sweetest place in the world to live in ? Dear me ! that I should have to tell her own husband first. llow we shall laugh about it when we get there." So it was to St. Louis we were going, and 1 was her husbaud's cousin. I never was so thankful for two pieces of information in my life. " And how does Jei.ny look ? and what is she doing ? and how is my dear Aunt Beraan ? do tell me the news !" "Jenny," said I mustering courage and words, " is the dearest little wife in the world, you must know, only too far fond of her scamp of a husband—as to her looks, you can't ex pect me to say anything, for she always look-, lovely to me." " Bravo 1" said the pretty girl, with a ma licious smile ; " but about my dear Aunt's rhematism ?" " Miss, 1 mean, of course, Mrs. Bcmaii is very well." " Well !" said my fair questioner, regarding me with surprise, " I thought she had not been well for a number of years." " 1 mean well tor her," said I, in some tre pidation ; "theair of St.Louis, "(which I have since learned is of the misty uioistyorder,) h is done her a world of good. She is quite a dif ferent woman." "I am very glad," suid her, neice. She re mained silent for a few moments, and then a gleam of amusement began to dance in her bright eyes "To think," said she, suddenly turning to me with a musical laugh, "that in all this time you had not once mentioned the baby." I know 1 gave a violent start and think 1 turned pale. After 1 had run the gauntlet of all these questions triumphantly, as I thought, this new danger stared me in the face. How was I ever to describe a baby, who had never notieed one ? My courage sunk below zero, but in the same proportion the blood rose to my face, and 1 think my teeth fairly chattered in ray head. " Don't be afraid that I shall not sympa thize in your raptures," continued my tormen tor, as I almost considered her. "I am quite prepared to believe anything after Jennie's let ter —you should see how she cares for him ?" " Him !" Blessed goodness, then it must be a boy !" " Of course," said I, blushing and stammer ing, but feeling it imperative to say something, " we consider him the finest fellow in the world ; but you might not agree with us, and in order to leave your judgment unbiassed, 1 shall not describe liini to you." " Ah, but I know just how he looks, for Jennie had no such scruples—so you may spare yourself the trouble or happiness, whichever it is—hut tell me w hat you mean to call him?" " AVe have uot yet decided upon a name," I replied. " Indeed ! I thought she meant to give him yours ?" "The deuce she did !" thought I. " No," I remarked, " one of the names is enough in 11 family " The demon of inquisitivetiess, that to my thinking, had instigated my fair companion, heretofore, now ceased to possess her, for we talked of various indifferent things, and I had the relief of not being compelled to draw on my imagination at the exp* use of my con science, when I gave the particulars of my re cent journey from Boston. Yet, 1 was far from feeling at ease, for every sound of her voice startled me with a dread of fresh ques tions, necessary, lint impossible to be answer ed, and I felt a guilty flush stealing up my tem ples every time I met the luok of those beauti ful eyes. It was late when we stopped forsnpper, and soon after I saw the dark fringes of my fair companion's eyes droop long and often, and be gan to realize that she ought to be asleep. I knew perfectly well that it was my duty to of fer her a resting place on my shoulder, but I hardly had courage to ask that innocent face to lie on my arm, which was not as she thought it, that of a cousin and a married iuao. Recol lecting, however, that it was mv duty to make her comfortable, aud that I could scarcely de ceive her more than I had already done, I prof fered the usual civility. She slightly blushed, but thanked me, and accepted it, by leaning her head slightly against my shoulder, and looking up into iny eyes with a smile, said, "As you are my cousin." Soon after, her eyes clo sed and she slept sweetly and catrilv, as if rest ing in security and peace. I looked down at the beautiful face, slightly paled with fatigue, that rested against me, und felt like a villian. I dared not touch her with my arm, although the bounding of the ears jostled her very much. 1 sat retuoreiessly until the sleeper settled the matter by slipping forward and awakening.— She opened her eyes instantly, and smiled. "It is no use for me to try to sleep with my bonnet on," she said, " for it is very much in the way for ine, and I am sure it troubles you." So she removed it, giving me the pretty little toy, with its graceful ribbons and flowers, to put on the rack above us. I preferred to hold it, telling her it would be safer with me, and after a few objections she resigned it, being in truth too sleepy to contest the point : then tying the blue "silk veil over her glossy hair, she leaned against my shoulder and slept again. This time when the motion begau to shake and an noy, I stifled the reproaches of my conscience, and pressing my arm lightly around her slen der waist, drew her upon my breast, where she lay all night. She slept the sleep of innocence, serene aud peaceful, but I need uot say that I could not close oiy eyes or ease my coDseieocc. I eeuM enlv gaze upon the beautiful, still fare, and imagine how it would confront uie, if she knew what I was, and how I had deceived her, or dreaming more wildly still, reproduce it in u hundred scenes which I had never before paus ed to itnagwie as the face of -mi/ wife. I had never loved, unless the butterfly loves of Saratoga and Newport might be so dignified, and still less had I ever dreamed or thought of marrying, even as a possibility and far oil' contingency. Never before, I solemnly aver, had I seen the woman whom I wished to make uiy wife—never before had I so longed to call my own, as I did that lovely lying ou my heart. No, it was impossible for me to sleep. lu the morning we reached Buffalo, and spent the day at Niagara. If I had thought her lovely while sleeping, what was she when the light of feeling und expression played over her face, as she eloquently admired the scene before us, or was even more eloquent still. Ido not think I looked at the Cata ract as I looked at her, or thought the one creation more beautiful than the other. She was now quite familiar with me, in her innocent way, called me "cousin Frank," and seeming to take a certain pleasure in my socie ty and protection. It was delightful to be greeted so gladly with her, when 1 entered the iiotel parlor, to have her come forward from the lonely scat where she had been waiting, not unobserved and unnoticed to receive me—to have her hang on my arm—look up into my face—tell me all her little adventures alone, and chide uie for leaving her so long, (how long it seemed to me,) while every word, look j and smile, seemed doubly dear to me, because | [ knew the precarious tenure by which I held I my right to them. She busied herself, too, ! while 1 was gone ont, with our joint baggage, i and rummaged all over her trunks to find a book which 1 had expressed a desire to see— she mended my gloves, sewed the baud 011 my travelling cap, and found my cigar case when ever I had lost it, which was about twenty times a day, which she declared almost equal led her owu. Long ago she had given over into my possession her elegant poit-monnaie, ' " with all her money in it, which she was sure she would lose, as she could never keep any thing," and as she had ordered me to take out what was wanted for her travelling expenses, I opened it with trembling hands when 1 was : alone, and examined the couteuts. There 1 were, besides all the bank bills with which she had probably been furnished for her journey, and which, with pious care, she had packed in to the smallest possibly compass, as much gold as her pretty toy could carry, a tiny pearl ring, too small to fit any fingers but hers—which I am afraid 1 kissed—a card with a name 011 it, and a memorandum in a pretty hand, "No Olive street, St. Louis," which, as I rightly conjectured, was the residence of her cousin Jennie whose husband I was : a very fortunate discovery for inc. Indeed, thus far, 1 had not yet found "the way of the transgressor hard," in external circumstances at least, aud when with her I forgot everything but her grace and beauty, and my firm resolution to be no more to lirr than her cousin should be ; but out of that charmed presence my conscience made me miserable. I am afraid I must sometimes have betrayed the conflicts of feeling 1 had, by my manner ; but when 1 was reserved aud ceremonious with her, she always resented it, and begged me so bewitehingly not to treat her so, and to call her by her sweet name, " Florence," that had I dreaded as much as I longed to do it, 1 could not have refused her. But the consci ousness that I was not what -he thought me, but an imposter, of whom, after our connec tion had ceased, and she had discovered the deception practiced upon her, she could think or remember nothing that would not cause un merited self-reproach and mortification, all in nocent and trusting as she was, this reflection more than any other 1 confess, and the know ledge of the estimation in which she would forever hold nie, after my imposition was dis covered, agonized ine, and I would have given all I possessed to own it to her and leave her sight at once, though the thought of never seeing her more was dreadful. But that couid not be. At last we reached St. Louis. Do I say "at last?" When the sight of those spires, and gables warned ine that my brief dreatn of happiness was over, and that the remorseful reflections 1 had been stavjug off so long were now to commence in earnest, the thought of coming banishment from Florence was dread ful to me, and the time seemed to fly on light ning wings as it drew nearer. She was all gayety, aud astonished at my sadness and ab sence of mind ulieu so near home and Jennie, and when we entered the carriage that was to convey us to our destination, I had half a mind to take a cowardly flight, rather than encount er the scorn and disappointment of those blue eyes ; but I mustered eourage'and followed her in, giving the address found in the portmonnia which, fortunately, was the right one, to the i driver. " Almost home '."said she, turning her bright face towards me—we were rattling up the street and my time was short, "how can you be so cool and quiet ?" " Because, Miss Florence," I answered, " the time has came in which I must confess to you 1 have uo more right in the house to which we are hastening, than the name by which you address me, and that, my only claim to either, is that of an impostor and deceiver." She turned her lovely face, wondering aud puzzled, towards me. Thank Heaven, I did not yet read fear and aversion in it. "No right !no claim," she repeated what can you mean ? " 1 told her, frankly and fully the whole truth, nearly as I have set it down here, deny ing nothing, and concealing nothing, not even the useless secret of my love her. When the brief recital was ended, we both remained 6i lent but although she bad hidden her face, 1 could see that she trembled violently with shame and repulsion. The sight of ber distress was agony to me, aud I tried to say a few words of apology. " You cau not b'aine or hate me. Miss Dundard. more than I hate or blame myself," I said, " for the distress I have so unwillingly caused yon Heaven knows that if I accepted the charge of so much innocence and beauty too lightly, 1 atoned siuce, in having occasion ed this suffering to you, and my owu punish ment is greater than I can bear." The coach stopped as I spoke ; she turned towards me eagerly, her face bearing traces of tears and said, in a low voice, "Do not mis understand me, if I was so silent." The coachman threw open the door, and stood waiting. I was obliged to desead and to assist her out. 1 hardly dared to touch that little hand, though it was for the last time but watched her figure with sad distress She was already recognized, for the door of the handsome house lief ore which she stopped was thrown open, and a pretty woman follow ed by a fine looking black whiskered gentleman, whom I supposed to be my namesake, rushed down the steps. There were loud exclama tions of astouishment and pleasure, a cordial welcome, and some rapid questions to which Florence returned very low and quiet answers, and quickly extricating herself from the con fusion, presented me as " Le Roy, your husb and's namesake, and the gentleman who kindly look charge of me." 1 glanced at her face to see if siie was mocking uie ; but it was pale and grave. Mrs. Le Roy opened her pretty eyes widly, Lut was to well bred to express surprise, and after introducing me to her hus band in the same terms, iuvited uie into the house. Hardly conscious of what I did, or anything except that I was still in the pre sence of Florence, from whom I could not bear 0 banish myself, I followed them into a hand some parlor, where sat an old lady, who my conscience told me was the rheumatic aunt 1 had so cruelly belied. Florence herself pre sented me to this lady, who was a fixture, und unable r o rise from her chair, and before I could stammer an apology and retire, related in her own way (bow different from mine) the mi-take by which she had been placed in my care, and the history of our journey, in which it appeared our host, Mr. Le Roy, had been a fellow passenger. When she had ended, they all crowded about ine, warmly expressing their thanks for my " kindness and consideration," to my utter bewilderment and surprise, and cordially invit ed me to remain with them, and make the ac quaintance of my namesake and family. 1 detached inysell from all the unexpected kind ness as soon as I could, for i fancied I read aver.Mon in the flushing and paling face, and drooping eyes of Florence, ami with one last look at her, I left the room. A momeut after, I felt the touch of a light hand 011 my arm, and turning, saw, with mute surpri-e, that she had followed me into the vestibule. "Mr. Le Roy," she said, hurriedly, " I can not let you go away misunderstanding uie, as I see you do. If I was silent while you hum bly apologized for the noble, geturous, and honorable delicacy of your conduct, it was not from anger, believe me, but because I was at first too much astonished, afterwards too much moved and grateful to speak. 1 oweyoutnore than 1 can say, and should be miserable indeed, if a false shame, which you see lias not pre vented my telling you this, should prevent you from continuing an acquaintance o strangely begun. Trust me, sir, 1 speak the truth." 1 don't know what answer I made, for the revulsion of my feelings was almost too great for words, and the rapture of knowing, as I looked down upon that lovely lace that it was uot for the last time, quite took away the little sense 1 had remaining. If you want to know how I felt, a.-k a man who is going to be hung, how lie would feel to be reprieved. Well, how time flies? It certainly does not seem five years since all this happened, yet cou sin Jenny, (my cousin Jenny now,) so bitterly reproaches us in her last letter for not visiting her iu all that time that we have again under taken the journey, but under different 'auspices, since Florence is Florence Dundard no more, and sleeps on my arm in the cars no more blush ingly, but with tiie confidence of a wife of near ly five years standing, and I register our 11amca in the hotel book, as " Mr. and Mrs Leßoy," and bless niv lucky stars, as I read it over.— Even, while I write, Florence, lovelier than ev er, as 1 think, makes a grand pretence of ar ranging our baggage at the hotel where we stop, (and which has reiniuded me. by past transactions, to write down this story,) or comes leaning over me to call me " dear Ci.es ter," instead of " my dear cousin Frank," as five years before, and to scold mc for lieing so stupid as to sit and write, instead of talking with her. Stupid, indeed, to prefer a black pen to those rosy lips. "Was ever a man so happy in a " Slight Mistake." WHEN* Anacharsis, the Scythian, was trav eling in Greece, he was reproached by an Athe nian with the barbarity of his native land. "It is true," replied Anacharsis, " that my coun try is u disgrace to me, but you are a disgrace to vour country." BY slight difficulties be not dismayed, nor magnify them by weakness and dispondeney, but boldly meet them and put them to flight. There are cobble stones in every road und peb bles in every path.— Acton. WITH whiskers thick upon my face, I wcut my fair to see ; she told me she could never love, a bear-faced chap like me. I shaved them clean, then called again, and thought my troubles o'er ; she laughed outright, aud said, I was more bare faced than before ! " MA, is aunty got bees in her mouth?"— "No ; why do you ask such a question ?" "'Cause that leetle man with a heap u'hairon his face cotch'd hold of her, and said he was going to take the honey from her lips ; and she said, " Well, make haste 1" A QUAKER, intending to drink a glass of wa ter, took up a small tumbler ot gm. He did not discover his mistake uutil ha got behind the door aud swallowed the dose, when he lift ed both hands, aud exclaimed : "Verily, 1 have tiken inwardly the balm of the world's people ! What will ABIGAL say when she smells toy breath ?" VOL. XIX. —XO. 4G. Calendar of Operation for April, 1859. F.unr —Ajjril is no leisure moDth for the farmer. The plows and harrows are at work, manure Is wanted in the fields, fences are not yet rattle proof. Early crops require patting in, and the farm stock need inucli care at this their season ol.increase. If not promptly and closely pnrsned now, the work of the w hole season will he delayed, aiivl there will be the unpleasant necessity of being driven by work, rather than the pleasure of driving it. It is important too that work be well done. IF a piece of land is half plowed, no after labor ran folly atone for it, ulthough cveu in hoed crops, while nothing can be done for the grain. L i lertake to cultivate no more than can bo well put in and thoroughly tilled. If the farm contains more land than can be properly man aged, turu out a portion to pasture, and till the rest. iiciLDi NGS. —This is house-cleaning month in many places. Let the men or boys assist about the fences ami out buildings, cleansing and painting or whitewashing, to give them a neat, healthy uud attractive look. CATTLE. — I>o not turn oIT too early. In this latitude they w ill require feeding ueariy through this month it not longer. Keep from tramping up mowing grounds. Cows about calving need especial cure and close watching. Oxeu are now performing heavy work ; feed them accord ingly. CELLARS. —If not previously attended to cleanse from filth, and accumulation of small roots, garbage, cet., and whitewash the walls and overhead, ventilating freely. Ci.oi UK —lf not sow u with Winter grain last month, attend to it. Sow with Spring graiu. CORN . —Manure and plow grounds for plant ing ne.\ f mouth. Provide and test seed pre vious to use. DOOK VARUS —CIean up the wiuter accumu lation.-- of chips and dirt, ud liug the latter to the manure heap. Draiu wet lauds. FENCES.- Make new nnd repair the old, Clear stones from meadows aud put them into permanent line or road fences. Plant hedges, as frost and dryness will admit. Do not forget to replace those unhandy bars with couveuieut uutes—tlicy cau be made under cover during wet weather. CHAIN. —.Sow Spring wheat and rye, oats, barley and pens. Allow no unimals to feed upon the Winter grain fields. Hare spots may be resowu with Spring graiu, hoeing or hariow ing it in. Hedge Rows along fences should now be cleared up, that the plow or mowing machine muj make clean work. HORSES. —Attend to marcs with foal, giving them ample space at night. Have working teams of horses and mules iu good eoudiliou for heavy lal or. MAM RES. — Cart out and drop iu heaps or spread on lands as fast as it eau be turned un der. Heaps previously carted to the fields may be forked over or turned, breaking up finely. An addition of muck well worked in will im prove the quality nnd add to the quantity.— Cover with muck, soil, or plaster to retain tho ainmontn. Look well to every manufactory and allow nothing to go to waste. Wash water, chandler slops, ect., are too valuable to throw away. A vat or uiuek heap may be provided to receive them. ME.UMJYYS. —Keep well fenced and do not permit stock of any k d to trample over or feed off. With a "maul," scatter any cattle droppings, pick up and cart off loose stones, and sow grass seed npon any vacant spots. Flowing is one of the chief opcratious of Aprii, and is too slightly attended to. POULTRY.— Set hens, for early chickens,and feed the young with care during the first few weeks Give cracked corn as soon as chickens can swallow it. Cleanse the houses thoroughly using tho manure and dust with plaster. POTATOES. — Plant early ones, selecting good market varieties not subject to rot. Try, say 10 bushels of coarse salt spread over an aero of' land at planting time, and note the results. ROOT CROPS. —Prepare the ground fpr onion* ! and carrots by heavy manuring and deep plow ing. Carrots may bp sown, if the Winter supply tailed too early this season, put in more for the coming year. Cattle long for green or succulent food in the Spring which is best provided for by a good supply of carrots aud > turnips. Sheep arc now dropping early lambs and need warm shelter at night. Keep separate from other stock and well fed. Give suit once i a week. Swine are also increasing in numbers, if pro ; per rare lias been exercised. Keep charcoal ; and ashes accessible to theui and give a little animal food which will frequently save the off-priug from being eaten. The mother should liuvr plenty of warm liquid food, and be kept from other animals. Do not neglect their ma | iture making apartments. Ti toriiv. —Sow, with Spring grain, and on : bare spots of old meadows. Tools, wagons, gear, harnesses, ect, should tie provided ut once and {tut in good working orrler. Some of the newer tools are real iro provemi'iits upon the old, and well worthy of ; adoption. Throw away the old if twice as much labor cau be done with the new, hut It© not too hasty to purchase every ciaimetl iui i provement without trial. TREES. —Set out for shade and fruit along tlie roads and lanes and about the yards. A . shade tree near the house may very properly I be a well trained cherry tree, which is orna inental at tioo seasons of the yer at least.— We have seen places improved very much by a few such tiees set out by the dwelling, btaud urd pears are also de-arable. OR<TTART> AVN NURSERY.—Thistsemphafical ; ly a tretpltinting month, both in orchard and nur.-ery. Spring is usually the best season in which to plant all kinds of trees, and Af r '' ' s the best month of Spring except - <)r Evcr i greens, which do better plant©*' ' n May.— Early planting is desirable tu>- l ' lo ®Mth may become well settled about yrtc rool *< H od the tree commence us grow" 11 before a dry season comes on.
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