00U.AR PES ANNUM invariably in advance. XOWANDA : Thursday Morning, May 12, 1859. | - - ftlccftb ANGELS GUARD THE SAINTED DEAD. HT CHARLKS WILLIAM BUTLRR. Angels guard tho sainted dead ! Lei them rest from toil and care ; With the blue sky overhead. And the breath of God's free air, Let them rest where light and shade. And earth's changes come aud go ; They have seen its visions fade. They have left its pomp and •how. [Angels guard the sainted dead ! Not alone from heavenly skies. liut the souls they comforted In this world of sacrifice. Grateful hands plant willows there ; Buds that spring-time gave, shall bloom. Aud the summer noon-tide fair Glorifies their peaceful tomb. Angels guard the sainted dead ! Memory loves to view the spot Where their living presence shed Blessings on our earthly lot. Then the graves wherein they rest Shall not more the spirit view • From tho mansions of the ble-t (ileum the faces old and erne. Angels guard the sainted dead ! This the voice that sounds for aye, When our tears of grief are shed O'er earth's loved ones passed away. This with time nor change departs ; Blessed the dying with the Lord .' Blessed are they who leave on hearts love's eternal written word. Angels guard the sainted dead ! Then the deep Cimmerian glooma Cannot fill our souls with dread ; There are watchers around the tombs. And they beckon us to come ! When the chilling death-wind blows, When we make our journey home, They will guard our sweet repose. IPistell&sefis. (From the Springfield Republican.] The Island of Ceyloa and its People. Some of the readers of your jonrnal may be .crested in a few statements which I propose send jou, from time to time, concerning the mate, productions, and the customs of the people in the island of Ceylon. It contains a population of about a million md one third, lies in the Indian ocean, between •pa o nnd 10° of north latitude, is about three j iiidrcd nules long from north to south, and : .'early two hundred miles in width. In the in j tenor are high mountains, of which Adam's I Peak is the highest, to which place many go " pilgrimage, expecting to find mere the foot- I prints of Adam. The people inhabiting the | uterior and southern part of the island, speak 1 e Cingalese language, and in religion are j Iloodhists. Those in the north part are Ilin . fipeaiing the Tamil language, who catne j ''"in the continent of India. Many Tamilians i redding in Colombo., and also great numbers me fioni the continent to labor on the coffee ; "fates in the interior. These seldom become I ermanent residents in the country. I propose to iMitiee more particularly the whom ]vt,railed the province of Jaffna. It •an island by itself, separated from the main dm] by shallow water, which in one place is rdable. This is called Elephant's Pass, be use wilt elephants cross there into Jaffui. At the west ami southwest are other small is auds, which are inhabited, and present the •smc general appearance, in the face of the wintry and productions, as Jaffna, although note of them are as fertile. The province, ••ia north to south, is about twenty-five miles vide, and from east to west from fifty to ' fty miles, containing a population of about 2 iii.ono. The face of the country is level, and "no place is it more than fifty or sixty feet the level of the sea. Much of thecotui '7 is still uncultivated and destitute of popn |'ion. The people are clustered together in ' fees, and sometimes four or five families fe found in one small enclosure, and perhaps, "ne house. Some parts arc so thickly set '*e a population of 20,000. The K "s are enclosed by hedges made of scver i inds of trees peculiar to thecountry. Some w?th\\ " re CoTere( l with thorns and often „ m i i I,ra 'ded leaves of the cocoa-nut-tree, arc n IV .' f V ie J >a ' m . vril palm. The people cinrp i ? r<: '', Ro 'l. and are consequently ~J| ei jdent than those in India, where ' S By th e government and the ) °l" e are tenants The people in Jaffna generallv build better Jes than those in Southern " India. They is SA ret a Vftric, y patterns as in * country. As their fathers built, and as - hastens presented, so they are content to g I S? r age ; T J ,e p° orer Masses build 1 _ e shanties or hovels, ronnd, square, or ob < 'iA a \'. na - v )e c cus t°ra of those around W- J7i eßea i re alwa y s covered with the ,, N , , * Palmyra or cocoa-nnt-tree. Some - thatched around with the braided cocoa-nut | "■'t' ec fud oDs. Others Lave a mod wall THE BRUM OKI) REPORTER. built a few feet high- The cooking is generally done cither under the shade of it tree or in n small shanty or coodil made for the purpose, which must be near the door of a house Those who are able to build more permanent houses, follow the prescriptions of the shasters as to size and form. The length is eighteen cubits, width seven or eight, height generally above five cubits. It is divided into two rooms, the larger occupying about two-thirds of the length of the house. The walls are ordinarily built of sun-dried bricks and mud, and plastered with the same. The roof is raised on posts at a proper height, and covered with leaves, and the walls are built under cover. These houses are sometimes built of burnt bricks or stone and mortar. They have only one door of en trance, which, with the frame set in the wall, made very strong and sometimes neatly carved, is often the most expensive part of the house. The smaller room is connected with the larger by a door, and is used as a store-room for rice, Ac. That their houses may be secure against thieves, they have no windows in either room. In front and often at both ends, is a verandah six or seven feet wide, and a projecting roof on the back side to protect the wall from rain. The roof of the verandah extends down so low that an adult cannot enter without stooping. They are often hung round with the brai ded leaves of the cocoa-nut-tree, to break the wind and rain in a storm, or shut out the heat in the middle of the day. The floor of the verandah is raised a foot or cubit, and beaten down and made smooth. It is used of ten for their reception room, and the place where they sleep in hot weather. In the cold est weather, and when afraid of robbers, tliev sleep icithin their houses. In times when cho lera prevails, they are seldom seen outside af ter dark, lest the demons who they think cau ses the disease, should seize them. Another form in which the people build is an enclosure, thirty or forty feet square, with rooms for dwellings on the inside. One side of the roof rests on this wall, and extends round the whole enclosure leaving an open court in the middle. The cooking is generally done on one side of the enclourse within. Some times they have a cook-house outside in front of the door of entrance, as is always the case where the houses are built after the other form. The wealthy portion of the people generally build in this style, and it is not at all uncom mon to find the representatives of three or four generations in one of these dwellings, and several large families. The floors are almost always made of mad beaten down smooth, and washed, from time to time, with a preparation that destroys the little insects that abound. In the nicely fin ished houses the verandah floors are made of lime and mortar, hard finished, which they do very nicely. Their valuables (jewelry and clothing) are generall v kept in a strong box within the inner room. They sleep on mats, generally on the floor, covering themselves with the cloth worn during the day. The poor people used apiece of wood, for a pillow, and are glad to get a soft piece of pine Some have bedsteads,which they use in the rainy season, when the floors of their houses are often damp. They have no chairs, except in a few cases, that they may have one to offer to a foreigner win may call to see them. A mat on the floor is their chair, and answers also for a table, on which tliev spread a leaf for a platp, or place before them tlieir brass plate for their food. Their fingers answer for a knife and fork or spoon to con vey food to the month, or a leaf, folded to gether on one side, will answer for a spoon in eating broth, or cool, as they call it. They do not come together as a family to take their food after the custom of Christian countries, but the wife prepares the food and brings it to her lord, and waits until he has finished, and then eats by herself with the small children ia the kitchen. The sons, when they have grown up to manhood, eat with their father. The furniture in the kitchen is very simple. A large mortar, a cubit high, with a pestle four or five feet long, for pounding rice to re move the bulls, and sometimes into flour—a small fan for separating the hulls—a pot for boiling rice, made of coarse earthenware, of a globular shape, with the opening at the fop about half the diameter of the centre, which is placed on three stones or three lumps of dried earth, that a lire maybe made under it—a pot of the same material, or sometimes of brass, with a Marrow neck, fcr bringing water—a broad-mouthed, shallow vessel (chatti) for ma king curry—stone and roller togriud the curry seed—a small dipper, made of a part of a co coa-nut shell—an instrument for scraping the cocoa-nut, and a knife set in a block to cut up fish and vegetables, are the principal articles they consider necessary for their cruisine. Though their instruments are very simple, they will furnish a nice dish of rice and curry on short notice. Will you call and take a meal. J. C. S. A PATTERN- SMOKING CAR.—A now smoking car has been put on the route between New York and Boston on the New Havtn Railroad. It is illuminated with gas and has several small tables, round and parallelogram, shaped for reading, as may suit the traveller. The up holstering is suitable for the car, and cannot be easily soiled. A gasmeter holding fifty feet of gas is located under the centre of the car, the meter being situated under a forward seat entirely out of the wav. There are nineteen ventilators, some of new patterns, so that a dozen smokers may puff away, but while the air is not bnrdened by the fuiues of the weed. The car rests upon twenty-eight india rubber springs, rendering it nr.usually easy as regards motion and jolting. The exterior is handsome ly painted, the corners are decorated by paint ings of smokers, and the ends bear the title of " Smoking Car "in large letters. The com pany intend using gas in all their cars soou. T&" A married lady ont west nearly broke her neck, a few days since, while learning to skate. Since that period there has been an cDtraordiuary demand for skates, by inarrieJ men, and the supply is not equal to the demand. PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TO WANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. Caudle h s been made a Mason—Mrs. I Caudle Indignant and Cnrious. "Now, Mr. Caudle—Mr. Caudle, I say; oh! you can't be asleep already, 1 know—now what 1 mean to say is this : there's no use, none nt all, in our having any disturbance about the matter ; but at last my mind's made up, Mr. Caudle ; I shall leave you. Either I'll know all you have been doing to night, or to-morrow morning I quit the honse. No, no ; there's an end of the marriage state, I think—an end of all confidence between man and wife—if a hus band's to have secrets and keep 'in all to him self. Pretty secrets they must be, when his own wife can't know 'em. Not fit for any de cent man to know I'm sure, if that's the case. Now, Caudle, don't let us quarrel ; there's a good soul, tell me what it's all about? A pack of nonsense, 1 dare say; still—not that I care much about it—still, I should like to know. There's a dear, eh ? Oh ! don't tell me there's n 'thing in it ; I know better. I'm not a fool, Mr. Caudle; 1 know there's a good deal in it. Now, Caudle, just tell me a little bit of it. I'm sure I'd tell you anything. You know I would. Well ? "Candle, you're enough tovcxn saint! Now, don t think you re going to sleep ; because you're not. Do you suppose I'd ever suffered you to go nnd be made a mason, if I didn't sup pose I was to know the secret too ? Not that it's anything to know, I dare say ; and that's why I'm determined to know it. " But I know what it is ; oh, yes, there can nodoubt. Ihe secret is to ill-use poor women ; to tyranize over 'em ; to make 'era your slaves —espec ally your wives. It must be something of the sort, or you wouldn't he ashamed to have it known. AN hats right and proper never need be done in secret. It's an insult to a woman for a man to lie a free-mason, and let his wife know nothing of it. But, poor soul! she's sure to know it somehow—for nice husbands they all make. Yes, yes ; a part of the secret is to think bettor of all the world than their own wives and families. I'm sure men have quite enough to care for—that is, if they act proper ly—to care for them they leave at home. They can't have much care to spare for the world besides " Aud I suppose they call you Brother, Cau dle ? A pretty brother, indeed ? Going and dressing yourself up in an apron like a turn pike man—for that's what you look like. And I should like to know what's the apron for ? There must be something in it not very respect able, I'm sure. NVell, I only wish I was Queen for a day or two. I'd put an end to free-ma sonry. and all such trumpery, I know. " Now, come, Caudle—don't let us quarrel. Eh ! You're not in pain, dear ? What's it all about ? What are you lying laughing there at ? But I'm a fool to trouble my head about you. " And you're not going to let me know the secret, eh ? You mean to say—you're not?— Now, Caudle, you know it's a hard matter to put me in a passion—not that I care about the secret itself ; no I wouldn't give a button to know it, for it's all nonsense, I'm sure. It isn't the secret I care about ; it's the slight, Mr. Caudle; it's the studied insult that, a man pays to his wife, when he thinks of going through the world keeping something to him .-e'f which he won't let her know. Man nnd wife one, indeed ! I should like to know how that can be when a man's a mason—when lie keeps a secret that sets him ami his wife apart? Ha ! you men make the laws, and so you take good care to have all the best of 'em to your selves ; otherwise a woman ought to be allowed a divorce when a man becomes a mason. When , lie's got a sort of corner cupboard in his heart —a secret place in his mind—that his poor wife isn't allowed to rummage ! " Caudle, you shan't close your eyes for a week—no, you shan't—unless you tell me some of it. Come, there's a good creature ; there's a love. I'm sure, Caudle, 1 wouldn't refuse yon anything—and yon know if, or you ought to know it by this time. I only wish I had a 1 secret ! To whom should I think of confiding I it, but to my dear husband? I should berais : erable to keep it to myself, aud you know it. Now Caudle? " Was there ever such a man ! A man in deed ! A brute !—yes, Mr. Caudle, an unfeel ing, brutal creature, when von might oblige me, and you won't. I'm sure I don't object to your being a mason ; not at all, Caudle ; I dare say it is—its only your making a secret of it that vexes me. But you'll tell ine—you'll tell your own Marernret ? You won't ? You're i a wretch, Mr Caudle. "But I know why ; oh, yes I can tell. The fact is, you're ashamed to let me know what a fool they've been making of you. That's it.— Yon at your time of life—the father of a fami ly. I should be ashamed of myself, Caudle. I "And I suppose you'll be going to what you call your Lodge every night now ? Lodge,in deed ! Pretty place it must lie, where they j don't admit women. Nice going on, I dare say. , Then you call one another brethren? Breth ren ! I'm sure you'd relations enough—yon didn't want any more. " But I know what all this masonry's about. It's only an excuse to get away from your | wives and families, that yon may feast and i drink together—that's all. That's the secret. And to abuse women, —as if they were inferior animals' and not to be trusted.—That's the secret—and nothing else. "Now Candle, don't let ns quarrel. Yes, I know you're in pain. Still Caudle, my love ; J Mr. Caudle ! Dearest, I say ! Caudle !" SINGULAR !—lt is generally observed that persons of about forty years, especially young ladies of that age, are very forgetful of those with whom they were acquainted in childhood. This remarkable dimness has been appropri ately styled " The darkness of the middle ages." VIRTUE is not the less venerable for being out of fashion. WHY is a musquito like a third street bro ker? Because be never stops bleeding his vic tims until some of tbem smash him. " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." [From the Independent, March 17.] Henry Ward Beecher on Anonymous Let ters. There are many wrong things which persons do from want of reflection, or from lack of ex perience ; ar.d writing anonymous letters is one of them. As a general rule, it is safe to say that no person should address to another any message which he is unwilling to put his name to. The only cases in which the name is of little importance are those in which there can be no objection to its use. If one is compiling a book or engaged in some known literary work, one may send him materials, or references, or hints of facts and books, anonymously. But what earthly reason has the informant for witbold iug his name? We receive a great many, and the history of some of them will convey our views better than general statements. One writes to say that A. B. is suffering great destitution, is very worthy, ought to be relieved—and no signature. Our impression is that the person who wrote the letter aud the one mentioned therein, are one nnd the same, and the whole is an attempt to beg by means of a lie. Auother sends a letter signed " a member of your church," in which various criticisms are freely indulged. We do not believe a word about the membership ; nnd if we did, should say that tares were yet mingled with the wheat. No person has any business to express an opinion of public affairs that is net willing to put his name to it. Another person writes about a third party unfavorably, and the moment that we get the drift of the letter we look to sec if there is a responsible name. If there is none, we pitch the letter into the fire, and fear that the writer will follow, in due time, unless he repents of the ineffable meanness of writing evil of a fellow hiding his name. This is an attempt at assas sination. A man that will by anonymous let ters injure another, would commit any crime to which his nature addicted him, provided there was a motive and impunity. Very different are communications in which the writers reveal their own experience. NVe think this to be-a case, if there can be any, which justifies witholding to none. And yet we have in mind two cases, both of which show that it would have been better to have given the name. In one, a piteous history of wrong, suffering, repentance, and almost des pair, was revealed. Had the person given us a persona! interview, or the mear.s of it, we were of opinion at the time that weeouldhuve prevented almost fatal mistakes, and secured great good. But it was by the merest chance months afterwards that we found out the wri ter And then it was too late to do any good. In another case, a person from Troy, in this state, gave a very effecting account of her re- Jigious experience, but left her name out. Our sympathy was much drawn out. We believe that one hour's conversation might have set her free whom Satan had bound for years But we were cutoff from communication. And when, a few weeks after, visited Troy,we would cheerfully have gone to any inconvenience to relieve one suffering much and needlessly, but we had no clue. If one's ease in worth writing at all, it is not once in a thousand times that the name should be left unwritten. Even if the confession be crime, or of dishonorable conduct, it is better to select one who can be confided in, and then make a frank nml full and personal explana tion. Repentance behind a mask is suspicious. NVe disdain to consider the case of those miscreants who seek to make mischief in fami lies, in neighborhoods, or between friends, by anonymous information, whether true or false. A man who under cover of darkness, would stab another's name or hopes, is an own child of the Devil, and is about his mastei's busi ness with an infernal fidelity. If you wish to warn a person of danger, or apprize hiin of any evil go to him, or go to some friend who will, or write with yonrsigna ture. But if you will not do that, do nothing. If yon are nnwiiling to bear for another the risks of writing your name, you are not friend enough to entitle you to meddle with his affairs at all NY e are largely in receipt of letters from anonymous persons asking for small loans of money, and with only initials for our superscrip tion. A glance detects such trumpery, and a very slight turn of the wrist converts them to ashes. A man's name is meant to be a safeguard. NYliere a man is known, he is silently restrain ed from a thousand incidental temptations which would assail him ifwe were consciously unknown. A man's name on paper is the representative of his per.-on. It will be a strong inducement to care, honor, truth and propriety. The want of a name to a letter is a presumptive evidence that a man has been doing something of which he is ashamed. And all honest men ought to make it a rule to burn up, without rending, anonymous communications. This is our rule. It is only now and that we begin to read with out knowing that the letter is nameless. But usually, a letter without signature goes in an instant into the fire, or into strips for the wind to play with. DETERMINED TO HAVE IIIM. —The Judson girl, whose elopement from Pontic caused considera ble talk, is now in Canada living with him, hav ing again deserted her home nnd friends. On the occasion of her former elopement, her father and brother reclaimed her with great difficulty, and took her to Indiana, where a di vorce was obtained. She went home with them, and remained until last week, when she again left, with or without the consent of her parents, and came to Detroit. Crossing the river, she fonnd Joe, and they were speedily married for the second time, and are now liv ing in the enjoyment of connubial happiness, Joe having sold his horse and cart, and bought some furniture with the proceeds. A man cannot be truly happy here without a well ground hope of the hereafter EXCITING SCENE—A Washington corres pondent of the N. Y. Tribune, gives the fol lowing incident in the Bepresenlative career of Joshua 11. Giddings : We must give or.e scene in the Old Hall more in detail. We write from recollection.— In 1840, the Indian Appropriation bill was under consideration in Committee of the Whole Mr. Giddings attacked an item which proposed to pay the State of Georgia for Certain runa way slaves who had found shelter among the Creek Indians. Mr. Black, of Georgia, re plied in a grossly foul personal assault upon Giddings. Amid much excitement, Giddings standing in the side-aisle at the left of the Chair, was responding with great severity to this attack. Black, armed with a pistol and heavy sword-cane, and followed by three or four Southern Members (one of whom is now a distinguished Senator,) crossed the hall, and coming within striking distance of Giddings, said, " Repeat those words and I'll knock you down !"' He repeated the words and went on with his speech. At that moment Mr. Daw son of Louisiana, rushed to the spot, cocked his pistol and shouted, "I'll shoot him !by G— d, I'll shoot him !" The peril of Giddings was imminent, Quick as thought, Mr. Cuiisinc of Maryland, his hand on his pis'ol, leaped in to the aisle between Black and Giddings, to defend the latter ; Kenneth Rayner, of North Carolina, also armed, took a position at the left hand of Giddings ; Charles Hudson, of Massachusetts, planted himself on the right ; while Solomon Loot, of Vermont, now in the Seriate, stood immediately behind him, to pre vent an assault from that quarter. And there, surrounded by Cuusine and Rayner of tho South, and Hudson aud Foot of the North, with Black, Dawson, and other armed and in censed men in front, stocd Giddings, his head towering above the crowd, delivering his speech with great vigor and entire self-possession, and never, from the beginning to the close of the melee, losing the thread of Irs subject, except when, as Black approached him, he hurled at hiin the defiance, " Come on ! the I'eople of Ohio dou't send Cowards here !" COINCIDENCES- —Crimes and casualities run in scries, in human affairs, just the same as fashions or disorders rage. If a mail commits suicide by hanging, other cases of the same kind are sure to follow before long, in the same community. So if a railroad train breaks through a bridge, destroying life and property, other trains will soon break through other bridges, with like results. Three children at a birth make their appearance in some part of the country, and straightway other triplets are issued by enterprising mothers in various lo calities. A steamboat runs its nose into the side of another, smashing in planks and tim bers ; and before the sheets are dry upon which the account of the accident is printed, other collisions take place in other parts of the country. Sometimes a woman poisons her husband, nnd then husband-poisoning becomes the prevailing form of homicide for awhile, to be superseded in its turn by some other class of murder, which will have a similar run. Once upon a time a man ascended to the top of a high monument in one of the public squares of Paris, and threw himself headlong to the ground, thus finishing his mortal career. Vp< n that every Parisian who was weary of life, adopted the monument as the road to etcri.ity, until, at length, suicides by leaping from the monument top, became so common, that the city authorities were oblige 1 to shut up the access to the stair-wav, in order to prevent the alarming spread of the mania. And finally somebody's good-natured friends got together and marched in procession to his house, laden with all sorts of valuable gifts and surprised him with a bountiful present. After this, for a month to come, nothing is heard of but sur prise parties, surprising all kinds of persons with all kinds of presents, of which the sur prised re ipie .ts are usually the planners and payers for the costly articles which are bestow ed. Verily, like the Pl a r isres of old, "they have their reward," for is it not noticed in the papers? The moral of all this may be found in the story of the tailor who laid down under the trees to sleep, while carrying a bundle of caps to market, having first put one on his head in lieu of a night-cap. A gang of mon keys stole his caps while he slept, and fled to the tree-tops, each one imitating the owner by putting one on his head. Upon awakening, the man saw that all his caps were lost to him, and in despair of recovering them from the high trees, he tore his own cap from his head, and dashed it to the earth. Forthwith all the imitative animals followed suit, by throwing their caps to the ground, and tiic tailor thus recovered his property. MOVEMENTS OF THE ATLANTIC TEI.KC.RAHI COMPANY. —NVe are informed that negotiations between the English government, the Atlantic Telegraph Company, and the New York, Ne wfoundland, and London Telegraph Company, have reached a point which admits of nodoubt about the government's guaranty of eight per cent, on the six hundred thousand pounds capital, being accepted. In vkw of this fact as we learn from the same reliable source, the Atlantic Company are actively engaged in making the most thorough tests of the various kinds of cable adapted to the Atlantic line, and will be pripared to enter into the neces sary contracts at an early day. In the mean time the Company have decided to expend a sum not exceeding one hundred thousand dol lars to resuscitate the present cable, and active operations to this end will lie commenced as soon as the weather will admit. The heavy battery of Mr. Ilenley, which arrived at St. Johns, X. F , late last fall, has not yet been sent to the telegraph station nt Trinity Bay, owing to the ice, but will be in position within the next few weeks or days. The Atlantic Company will not attempt to lay the new cable until July of next year. BST Tears of beauty are like clouds float ing over a heaven of stars, bedimming them for a moment that they may shine with greater ustre than before. VOL. XIX. NO. 41). THK I'F.ACH THICK. —This tree is a native of Persia, and has been cultivated in Asia and in the south of Europe from time immcmmorial. Linneus divides the peach into two varieties, the "true |enrh" nnd the nectarine—the one separates freely from the atone, and tlie other does not, and is generally designated as the clingstone. There are several varieties of these two divisions, nnd have smooth end some rough skins ; nnd there arc instances on record of peaches nnd nectarines ocenrring on the same (•ranch. It was introduced by the earliest colonists and found well adapted for our soil nnd climate. A change, however, has come over the peach during the last twenty years : it does not seem to he so hardy nor so long lived as formerly ; it is subject to unfavorable atmospheric influences and also to the attacks of insects which soon diminish its productive power and shorten its days. The conse of this is not well understood, and a preventive for its raped decay litis not yet been discovered. During the past two years the peach crop has been an entire failure both in quantity and quality, and large peach orchards in various sections of our country, once yielding good and abundant crops, ore now blasted and bar ren. A discovery which would restore this luscious fruit-bearer to its former vigor and fruitfulness would be of incalculable import ance. As this season of the year—entering upon spring—we urge our horticulturists to give this subject that attention which it de serves. As peach trees hlossom early in the season, they arc subject to injury from late frosts ; this was the case in many districts in 1858 Dwarf trees may he protected from such frosts by netting laid over them, but it would be too expensive thus to cover large trees. The smull green fly and mildew often attack peach trees, and very few persons to try remedy this evil, although tobacco and sulphur is a perfect cure. Take a pound of tobacco, and pour five gal lons of boiling water upon it, pour off the clear, and stir in two pounds of sulphur.— When cold, apply it to the trees with a syringe or a garden-engine in the evening, then show er the trees next morning with soft water.— Such applications may he required twice a week for three weeks before the cure is fully ef ftct*d, but by perseverance the desired resnlt will be secured. Most farmers seem to act upon the principle that if their fruit trees do not take care of themselves, they may die if they choose. This is not the feeling, for culti vating peach trees, at least. Some strenuous efforts should be made to restore this tree to the condition and character which it once possessed. QI'F.STIOVS ANSWKRKD. —The Washington Stntfs, a sort of DOIOI.AS organ, does not like the FORNKY independent movement in this Stute, and propounds the following questions as to what its friends intend to do : 1. " Do they meditate apostacy to the Op position 1. "Are they resolved to adhere in good faith to the Democratic party ?" 15. " Do they pledge themselves to support the nominations of the Charleston Conven tion ?". The Philadelphia Pres. T replies to the first and second questions by saying that they re gard the organization formed on the 13th as the only organization the Democratic party has, and that they iuteud to adhere to it. To the third it replies : "If the nominees of the Charleston Con vention shall be the representatives of the principle of non-intervention and popular sov ereignty. as accepted, advocated and under stood in 1856, as explained and defended in in 1858 by Stephen A. Douglas and his as sociates, and as applied by leading Southern statesmen, then do we pledge ourselves to sup port the lominees of that Convention with all zeal, lint if, on the other hand, that Conven tion shall be committed, in any shape, to tho theory so eloquently denounced by the Statu —that CMS government i< to be dedicated 4 to the pir-pagation of slavers'—then we shall un questionably oppose its nominees." KXIUI'STION OK TAIJC. —How long the lamp of conversation holds out to burn, between two persons only is curiously set down in the fol lowing passage from Count Coafalliouer's ac count of his imprisoiuner.t: " Fifteen years I existed in a dungeon ten feet square ! During six years I had com panion ; during nine 1 wnsalouc ! I never could rightly distinguish the face of him who shared mv captivity in the eternal twilight of onr cell. The tir>t year we talk-d incessantly together ; we related our past lives, our joys forever gone over and over again. The next year commu nicated to each other our thoughts and ideas on all subjects The third year we had no ideas to communicate ; v.'e were beginning to lose the power of reflection. The fourth, at the interval of a month or so, we would open our lips to ask each other if it were possible that the world went on as gay and bustling as when we formed a portion of mankind. The fifth we were silent. The sixth iie was taken away—- I never knew where, to execution or liberty. Hilt I was glad when lie was gone ; even sol itude was hotter than the pale, vacant face.— One day (it must have been a year or two after my companion left me,) the dungeon door was opened, whence proceeding 1 knew not the fol lowing words were tittered :— 4 Iy order of his Imperial Majesty, I intimate to you that your wife died a year ago.' Then the door was shut and I heard no more; they had but flung this great agony upon me. and left me alone with it." It is one of the greateM and one of tha most serious and vital of mistakes for one to suppose that a life of unfeigned piety is a life devoid of pleasure. It is, on the contrary,full of the most edifying, cheering, satisfying, unal loyed, and ennobling enjoyment that the world can afford ; never failing to aid and comfort in trouble ; to inspire perseverance in all laudable undertakings, lo fill the. heart with the io