, 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.