OIE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOWjAJNTDA. :
Thursday Morning, October 13,1859.
Sckrtcb |3octrg.
[Written for Gleason's Pictorial Battle Ship-]
A DIRGE FOR THE SUMMER.
BY SYBIL I'AKK.
Yesterday the bright winged Summer
Bowed her fair young head and died,
And the flower-bells tolling murmur
Funeral dirges by her side.
This calm morn our dear departed
Lieth cold upon her bier,
Royal dahlias crimson-hearted,
Were the first sad mourners here.
Asters many hned, and glowing.
Pansics, and sweet mignonette,
Kach are on the dead bestowing
Some last token of regret.
Like an Eastern queen she sleepeth.
Decked with gems and blossoms rare ;
Faithfully each true heart keepeth
Vigils for the young and fair.
All day long the weary sighing
Of her breath so faint and low,
Told us that our love was dying.
Aud our eyelids filled with woe,
When from out the azure heaven.
One by one the pale stars shone ;
Then her last farewell was given,
Thcu the summer time was flown.
Tears are falling, sadly falling.
Like the dropping of the rain.
Through the earth a voice is calling,
For the dead to wake again ;
All our paths with gloom are shaded,
And our songs are dirge-like now,
Since the golden mi-jt has faded
From the Summer's royal brow.
Yet again. <> sweet-voiced maiden.
l)ur sad lips must breathe farewell.
While thy presence, blossom-laden.
Lingers over wood and dell.
Then we'll smooth the shining tresses
From thy gentle brow of snow,
And with tears and kind caresses
We will leave thee sleeping low.
Bfl c: 1c b (L ;i 1 1.
A SPIRITUAL SUBPCENA.
Some dozen years ago, I passed a couple of
early summer mouths iu Devonshire, fishing—
changing one picturesque sceue of sport for
another, always disbelieving that I should find
so fair a place as that last quitted, and al
ways having pleasantly to acknowledge myself
wrong. There is indeed au almost inexhausti
ble treasure of delicious nooks iu that fertile
county, which comprehends every element of
landscape beauty—coast and inland, hill and
valley, moor and woodland—and excels iu
nothing more than in its curved rivers. What
c'iff like aud full-foliaged banks about their
sources, and what rich meadows, sprinkled
with unrivaled kiue, as they broaden toward
the sea 1 At the close of my tour, I was
lodging in a farm house near a branch of the
Exe, rather regretful at the thought of so soon
having to shoulder mv knapsack and return to
native Dorset, uear a certain proviucial towu
of wiiich county, and iu a neighborhood with
out a tree in sight, or a stream within sound,
it was my lot to dwell. We had lately thrown
out a bow-w iudow to the drawing-room, there,
but why I cannot tell, for there was certainly
nothing to see from it What a difference be
tween such a spot and my then abode, from
the windows of which a score of miles of undu
latiug and varied landscape could be discerned
with the olel cathedral towers of the capita!
city standing grandly against the southern
sky !
It is not true that persons who live in pic
turesque places do not appreciate them, but
only that they require to be made to under
stand their good fortune. Michael Courteney,
the good man of the farm, and, like all his
class, a thorough stay-at-home, could not dis
c >ver what I found iu that look out from his
house to make such a fuss about ; but his
wife, who had once paid a visit to her son
when iu business at Birmingham, knew per
fectly well. Concerning which sou Robert,
by the by, there was a sad tale. He was the
ouly child of the good pair, aud one who
should have been there at Cowless, the right
hau l of bis father and the comfort of his lov
ing mother ; but the young man had decided
otherwise. He had never taken to farming,
but had grieved his father hugely by a hank
ering after mechanical studies, which tbe old
agriculturist associated almost with the black
art itself. Thinking himself to have a gift
for the practical sciences, Robert was ap
prenticed in Birmingham, and for a time bade
fair to acquit himself well. But it had not
been farming to which he was in reality averse,
<o much as to be a restraint of any kind ; and
Xiuding, after a little, that he could not be his
owu master at the lathe, any more than at the
plow, he forsook his second calling likewise
This had justly angered Michael, and drawn
from him, on the return of the lad. certain
expressions which his young spirit uudutifnlly
resented. There was a violent scene in that
}>eaceful homestead of Cowless oue day ; and
ou the next morning, when the house was
astir.it was found that Robert had gone away
iu the night-time, nor had he since either re
turned home or written of his whereabouts.
It was a year ago and more by this lime,
during which period Mrs Conrteney had growo
older than iu the half-doren years before,
while the old uian himself, said the farm-peo
ple. had altered to the full as much as she, al
though, for his part, he had never owned to
it. It was not he who told me of the matter,
but the good wife, who was fond of me—as
my vanity was obliged to confess—mainly be
cause I was of the age of her lost lad, and
so reminded ber of him. 1 slept in the very
• oai which had been her Robert's, and a very
comfortable little room it was
Here it was, very early one May morning,
"ore even the earliest risers of the farm wee
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
up, that I was awakeucd by these three words,
pronounced close by me iu thedistiuctest tones,
" The ferryman waits."
So perfectly conscious was I of having been
really addressed, that I sat up in my bed at
once, and replied : "Well, and what is that
to me ?" before the absurdity of the iutimatiou
had time to strike me. The snow-white cnr
taiDS of the little bed were completely un
drawn, so that no person could have been hid
den behind them. Although it was not broad
daylight, every object was clearly discernable,
and through the half-opened window came the
cool, delicious summer air, with quickening
fragrance, I heard the dog rattle his chain
in the yard as he came out of his kennel and
shook himself, aud then returned to it lazily,
as though it was not time to be up yet. A
cock crew, but very unsatisfactorily, leaving
off iu the middle of his performance, as though
he bad beeu mistaken in the hour. My watch,
a more reliable chrouicler, informed me that it
wauted a quarter of four o'clock. 1 was not
accustomed to be awukcued at such a time as
that, and turned myself somewhat indignantly
on the piilow, regretful that I had eaten clot
ted cream for supper the preceding evening
I lay perfectly still, with my eyes shut, eudea
voring, since I could not get to sleep again, to
account for the peculiar nature of my lale
nightmare, as I had made up my mind to con
sider it, until the cuckoo clock on the oaken
chair outside struck four. The last note of
the mechanical bird had scarcely died away,
when aguiu, close to the pillow, I heard utter
ed, not only with distinctness, but with a most
unmistakable earnestness the same piece ofin
tormation which had once so startled me al
ready, " The ferryman waits."
Then I got up and looked under the little
bed, and behind it, into the small cupboard
where my one change of boots was kept, and
where there was room scarcely for anything
else. I sounded the wall uearest my bed's
head, and tound it solid enough ; it was also
au outside wall ; nor from any of the more
remote ones could so distinct a summons have
come. Then I pushed the wiudow casement
fully back, aud thrust my head and bare neck
into the morning air. If I was still asleep, 1
was determined to wake myself, and then, if I
should hear the mysterious voice again, I wa<
determined to obey it. I was not alarmed,
uor even disturbed in my mind, although great
ly interested. The circumstances of my posi
tion precluded any supernatural terror. The
auimals in the farm-yard were lying in the
tumbled straw close by, and near enough to
be startled ut a shoal of mine ; some pigeons
were already circling round the dove cot, or
pasing, sentinel like, the little platform before
their domiciles ; and the souud of the lasher,
by whose circling eddies I had so often watch
ed for trout, came cheerily aud with inviting
tone across the dewy meadows. The whole
landscape seemed instinct with new born life ;
and to have thoroughly shaken off the solem
nity of dreary night. Its surpassing beauty
and freshness so entirely took possession of me
indeed, that in its contemplation I absolutely
forgot the inexplicable occurrence which had
brought me to the window. I was wrapped
in the endeavor to make out whether those
tapering lines, supporting, as it appeared, a
mass of Southern clouds, were indeed the pin
nacles of the cathedral, when close by my ear,
close by, as though the speaker had his lace
at the casement likewise, the words were a
third time uttered, " The ferryman waits."
There was a deeper seriousness in its tone
on this occasion, an appeal which seemed to
have a touch ot pathos as well as gloom ; but
it was the same voice, and one which I shall
never forget. I did not hesitate another mo
ment, but dressed myself as quickly as I could,
and, descending the stairs, took down the vast
oakeu door-bar, and let myself out. as I had
l>een wont to do when I went betimes a fishing.
Then I strode southward along the footpath
leading through the fields to where the river
ferry was, some three miles off, now doubting
now believing, that the ferryman dul wait there
at such an unusual hour, and for uie. I made
such good use of my legs that it was not five
o'clock when I reached the last meadow that
hv between me and the stream ; it was
higher ground than its neighbor land, and
every step I took I was looking eagerly to
come in sight of the ferry-honse, which was on
the opposite bank, and by no means within
hailing distance. At last I did so. and ol>-
served, to my astonishment, that the boat was
not at its usual moorings. It must needs,
therefore, have been already brought over up
on my own side. A few steps further brought
me into view of it, with the ferryman standing
up in the stern leaning on his punt-pole, and
looking intently in my direction. He gave a
great " halloo " when he recognized me, and I
returned it, for we were old acquaintances.
" Well, Master Philip," cried he, a I drew
.near, " you are not here so very much betimes,
after all ; I have been waiting for you nigh
upon half an hour.''
•• Waiting for me ?" echoed I I don't koow
how that can be, since nobody knew that I was
coming ; and, indeed, I didn't know it myself
til] and there I stopped myself upon the
very verge of confessing myself to have been
fooled by a voice. Perhaps the ferryman him
self may he concerned in the trick, thought I,
and is now taken across out of hours
" Well, sir," returned the genius of the river
turning his peakless cap hind before, which
was his fashion a hen puzzled, and certainly a
much more polite one than that common to the
brethren of the land, of scratching their heads,
" all I can say is as I was ronseo at half past
three or so by a frieud of yours, saying as
though yon would be waiting me in a little on
the north bank."
" What friend was that ?" inquired I.
"Xy, sir, for that matter I can't say, since
I didn't see him, bnt I heard him well enough
at all events, and as plain as I now hear TOO.
I was asleep when he first called me outside
yonder, and could scarcely make any sense of
it ; but the second time I was wide awake.and
the third time, as I was undoing the window,
there ooold be no mistake aboot it "Be ready
for Philso Beaton on tbe north bank,'' h?
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
" And how was it you missed seeing my
friend ?" inquired I carelessly as I could.
"He was iu such a hurry to be gone I reckon
that as soon as he heard my window open,and
knew he had roused me, he set off. His voice
came round the east corner of the cottage as
though he went Exeter way. I wouldn't have
got up at such a time, and at such a sum
mons, for many other folks but you, I do as
sure yon, Master Philip."
" Thank you," said I, though by no means
quite convinced you're a good fellow, and
here's five shillings for you And now pnt me
across, aud show me the nearest way by which
I can get to the city."
Now, if by some inscrutable means the fer
ryman—who had become the leading figure iu
my mind because of the mysterious warning—
or any accomplice of his had played mc a
trick, or trumped up a story for my further
bewilderment, they bad not, I flattered myself
very much cause for boasting. I had evinced
but slight curiosity about tbe unknown gentle
man who had heralded my approach at day
light, and I had a real object in my early ris
ing—that of reaching the capital city, at least
ten miles away. But my own brain was, for
all that, a prey to the most conflicting sugges
tions, not one of which was of fiual service
toward an explauatiou of the events of the
morning.
There was I, a little after five A. M., with
walk before mc of ten, and u walk behind of
three good Devou miles, breakfastless, without
the least desire to reach the place he wus
bound for—and all because ot a couple of roz
et-prceterea-nihils, voices without a body be
tween them. I consumed the way in mentally
reviewing all the tircnmstances of the ca s e
again and again, and by no means in a credu
lous spirit ; but when I at length arrived at
the city upon the hill, I was as far from the
solution of the matter as when I started. That
the ferryman himself, a simple countryman,
should be concerned in any practical joke upon
me, a mere fly-fishing acquaintance of a couple
of weeks standing, or that such persons as the
Courteueys should have permitted the playing
of it upon a guest at Cowlcss, was only less
astounding than the perfection of the trick it
self—if trick it really was. But neither my
feelings of anger, when I looked on the matter
in that light, nor those of mystery, when I
took the more supernatural view of it, in any
wise interfered with the gradual growth of ap
petite, and when I turned iuto a private room
at the B,chop's Head in the High Street, the
leading idea in mv mind, after all my cogita
tions, was breakfast. If seven aud forty mys
terious voices had iuformed me that the ferry
man was waiting then, I should have responded:
" Then let him wait—at all events, till I eat
mv breakfast and sundries."
Although Exeter is as picturesque and ven
erable a city as any raven conld desire to dwell
in, it is not a lively towu by any means, iu a
general way. A quiet, saintly, solemn spot,
indeed, it is ; excellently adapted for a sinner
to pass his last days in—although he would
probably find them among the longest in his
life—and peculiarly adapted to that end iu its
very great benefit of (Episcopal) clergy ; nut
for a hale young gentleman of nineteen to find
himself therein at nine o'clock on a fine sum
mer morning, with nothing to do, and all the
day to do it in, was au cmbarrassiug circum
stance.
"Nothing going on, as usual, I suppose ?"
| inquired 1, with a yawn at the waiter, wheu I
had finished a va<t reflection.
" Going ou sir ? Yes sir. City very gay,in
deed, sir I just now. A-siz-s, sir, now sitting
Murder case—very interesting for a young
gentleman like yourself, indeed, sir."
" How do you know what is interesting'"re
torted I, with the indignation of hobbledehoy
hood at having its manhood called in question.
" Youug gentleman, indeed ! 1 am a man,
sir. But what about this murder ? Is the
prisoner convicted ?"
"Couvicted, sir? No, sir ; not yet, sir. We
hope he will he convicted this morning, sir.—
It's a very bad case, indeed sir. A journey
man carpenter, one Robert Moles, have been
aud murdered a toll keeper—killed bim in the
dead of night, with a 'atcbet ; aud his wife's
the witness against him."
"That's very horrible," remarked 1. "I
didn't know a wife could give evidence."
"No sir; not bis wife, sir; it's the toil
keeper's wife, sir. She swears to this Moles,
i although it bapjiened two months ago or more
| sir. Murder will out, they say ; and how true
it is ! He'd be hung in front of the jail, sir, iu
I a bopen place upon au 'i'l, so as almost every
body will be able to see it, bless ye !"
" I should like to hear the end ot the trial—
very much indeed, waiter."
" Should you,.sir?" fondling his r chin. "It
couldn't be done, sir—iteoold n.tbedoiie ; the
court is crowded iuto ain ash already. To be
sure. I'te got a . But no, sir ; it could not
be done."
" I suppose it's merely a question of " How
much ?" said I, taking out my purse. " Didn't
you say you had a
" A cousin as a javelin man, yes, sir. Well
I don't know but what it might be done, sir,if
you'll just wait till Ive cleared uway. There
they're at it already I"
While he spoke, fanfaronde of trumpets
without proclaimed that the judges wt-re
about to take their seats; and in a few min
utes the waiter and I were among the crowd.
The javelin-man turning out to l>e amenable
to reason and to the ties of relationship, as
well as not averse to a small pecuniary recom
pense, I soon found standing room for myself
in the court house, where every seat has been
engaged for hours before As I had been in
formed, the proceedings were all bnt conclud
ed, save some ouimportaut indirect evidence,
and the speecu of the prisoner's counsel. This
gentleman had been assigned to the accused
a> council by the coort, since he had not pro
vided himself with any advocate, nor attemp
ted to meet the tremendous charge laid against
him, except by a simple denial All that had
been elicited from him since his apprehension,
it seemed, was this: That the toll keeper's wife
was mistaken in his identity, but that be bad
led a wandering life of late, and ecu.d not pro-
duce a persou to prove an alibi-, that he was
in Dorsetshire when tbe murder was done,
miles away from the scene of its commis-sion ;
but at what place oft the particular day iu
question —the sth of March—he could not re
call to mind. This, taken in connection with
strong condemnatory evidence, it was clear,
would go sadly against him with the jury, as a
lame defeuee indeed; although, as it struck me,
who had only gleaned this much from a by
stauder, nothing was more natural than that
a journeyman carpenter, who was not likely to
have kept a diary, should not recollect what
plnce he had tramped through upon any par
ticular date.
Why, where had 1 myself been on the sth
of March? thought I. It took me several
minutes to remember, and I only did so by
recollecting that I had left Dorsetshire on the
day foilowiug, partly in consequence of some
alterations going ou at home. Dorsetshire, by
the by, did the prisoner say ? Why, surely,
I have seen that face somewhere before, which
was now turned anxiously and htiridly around
the court, and now, as if ashamed of meeting
so many eyes, concealed in his tremulous
bauds Robert Moles! No, I certainly never
heard that name, and yet I began to watch
the poor fellow with singular interest, begot
ten of the increasing conviction that he was
not altogether a stranger to me.
The evideuce went on and concluded ; tbe
council for the prisoner did his best, but his
speech was, of neeessity, an appeal of mercy
rather thau to justice. All that had been con
fided to him by his client was this: that the
vojing man was a vagabond, who had deser
ted his parents, and run away from his inden
tures, and was, so far, deserving of little pity;
that he had, however, only been vicious, and
not criminal; as for the murder with which he
was now charged, the commission of such a
hideous outrage had never entered his braiti.
"Did the lad look like a murderer? Or did he
rather resemble the Prodigal Son, penitent ior
his misdeed®, indeed, hut not weighed down
bv the blood of a fellow-creature?"
All this was powerfully enough expressed,
but it was uo evidence; and the jury, without
retiring from their box, pronounced the young
mau "guilty," amid a silence which seemed to
corroborate the verdict. Then the judge pot
on the terrible black cap, and solemnly in
quired lor the last time whether Robert Moles
had any reason to urge why sentence should
not lie passed upon him.
"My lord," replied the lad, in a singular
low, soft voice, which recalled the utterer to
my recollection on the instant, "I am wholly
innocent of this dreadful crime of which I am
accused, although 1 confess I see iu the doom
that is about to be passed ujion me a fit re
compense for my wickedness and disobedience.
1 was. however, until informed of it by the of
ficer who took me into custody, as ignorant of
this poor man's existence as of his death."
"My lord," I cried, speaking with an ener
gy and distinctness that u?tonishcd myself,
"this young mau has spoken the truth, as I
can testify."
There was a trcmendious sensation in the
court at this announcement, and it was some
minutes bciore I was allowed to take my place
iu the witness box The council of the crow n
objected to my becoming evidence at that
stage of the proceedings at all, and threw him
self into the legal question with all the indig
nation which he had previously exhibited
against the practice of midnight murder ; but
eventually the court overruled him, aud I was
sworn.
I stated that I did not know the prisoner
by name, but that I con'd swear to his identi
ty. I described how, upon the sth of March
lust, the local builder, being in want of hands,
had hired the accused to assist in the con
struction of a bow-window in the drawing-roum
of our house in Dorsetshire.
The council for the prosecution, affecting to
disbelieve my sudden recollection of the pris
oner. here requsled to know whether any par
ticular circumstance had recalled'him to my
mind, or whether I had only a vague and gen
eral recollection of htm.
"I had only that," I confessed, "until the
prisoner spoke; his voice is peculiar, and I re
member very distinctly to have heard him upon
the occasion I spoke of : he had the misfortune
to tread upon his foot-rule and break it. while
at work ujkjii the window, aud 1 overheard
him lamenting that occurrence."
Here the counsel for the accused reminded
the court that a broken foot-rule had been
found upon the prisoner's person at tbe time of
his apprehension.
Within some five minutes, in short, the feel
ings of judge, jury and spectators entirely
changed ; and the poor young fellow at the bar
instead of having sentence of death passed
upon him found himself, through my means,
set very soon at liberty. He came over to me
at the inn to express his sense of my prompt
interference, and to beg to know he might
show his gratitude.
" I am not so mean a fellow as I seem," said
he : "and I hope, by God's blessing, to be a
credit to the parents to whom I have behaved
so ill."
" What is your real name?" inquired I,struck
by a sudden impulse.
" Mr real came," replied the young man,
blushing deeply, " is Courteney, and my home
where I hope to be to-night.is at Cowley Farm,
across the Exe."
And so I had not been called so mysteriously
at four o'clock in the morning, without a good
and sufficient reason, after all.
o®* It is well for the soul to have some
aim, some object, to which to direct its ener
gies ; it brings out their hidden strength, and
we can battle life's severest storms if that aim
ever be ours, in pursuit of its attainment.
fcgy I never knew but one person who in
terfered between m3n and wife in their broils
with success (said a philosopher) and that was
the person who turned to and thrashed them
both soundly.
We woold educate the whole man—
the body, the head the heart . the body to
act the head to think, and the heart to feel.
Draining Slops from Houses.
I shall, without attempting to disparage the
judgment or the practice of others, proceed to
describe the plan which I have adopted in or
der to avoid, on tbe one band, the unsightly
and inconvenient accumulation of ice near the
kitckeu door iu the winter and on the other,
the still more offensive effluvia from the sink
gutter in the summer. The water is conduct
ed from the w&sh-tiough iuto a draiu beueatb,
through a two-inch lead pipe same two and a
half feet long and so carved to allow a por
tion ot it always to stand full of water which
is, of course, displaced by each successive de
posite ; thus forbidding the iugress of cold air
or the return of noxious gases from the cess
pool below. It will be observed that to secure
the advantages of this arrangement, the draiu
most be carefully closed around the insertion
of the pipe. The drain is made of brick with
the fall of nearly au inch to the foot, and
sufficiently deep under ground to render it se
cure from freezing ; it terminates, at a suitable
distance from the house, in a pit four by six
feet, and five feet deep, walled up to the sur
face of the ground and securely covered. As
there is considerable amount of waste water
from the wash house and kitchen, where there
are several in family, this depository will oc
casionally require to be pmnped out. I Lave
therefore provided it with a cheap pump, so
primitive and simple iu its constructiou as to
have cost less than two dollars ; and yet so
efficacious in its performance as to discharge,
with ease to the operator, a hogshead of water
per minute. It is made of jfine boards about
five iucbes square, with a stationary valve uear
the bottom, aud a movable one attached to the
piston rod, as iu the cominom pump—the pis
ton is worked without a lever.
The contents of the cesspool are made to
subserve a valuable purpose, both as a reuova
tor of the soil and also for irrigation. In the
latter relation it is exceedingly useful to the
garden ; for in a few minutes a man will throw
up enough water to thoroughly irrigate every
part of it—thus carrying both moisture and
nourishment to the plants at a time w hen they
most need it.
I have been thus explicit, because I believe
this arraguement has mauy palpable advan
tages over every plan of conducting the drain
age away ou the surface ; and because I have
thought that a luck of perspicuity in a com
munication on so very commonplace place a
subject would detract from the little merit it
might otherwise possess. C'., West Grove,
Chester county, Pennsylvania — Country Gen
tleman.
To Cure Hard Pulling Horses — A writer
in the London Field thus prescribes a remedy
for hard pulling horses ; " Put the curb chain
inside the mouth, from hook to hook, instead
of out. How or why it acts with such consid
erable effect I know not, but at times it utterly
puts an end to over-pniling. To stop a run
away horse, or render the most pulling brnte
quiet and playful with his bit, get a double
plain snuffle, rather thick and heavy, the joints
rather open, cut an old curb chain in half and
let it hang down from the bottomsuoffle joint
When he offers to p ill or bolt, instantly mere
ly drop your haud : of course the curb chair
will drop between his frout teeth, aud should
the beast savage it—if any of your correspon
dents wish to try the effect ou themselves, they
have only to place a nut between their front
teeth and try to crack it—they will soon un
derstand the vast difference between pleasure
and pain. So does the horse, and in a short
time he will play with the very thing he before
tried to savage, and in the end become from a
vicious brute, a playful, good mouthed animal.
B*3" The eccentricities of John Randolph
of Roauoke, were proverbial. Auioug the
greatest geniuses and ablest statesmen of the
age in which he lived, he was peculiarly dis
tinguished for his practical common sense and
plainness of manner and dress. On a certain
occasion he was a stage passenger in Virginia,
I and reclining on a lounge at a hotel, waiting
for a change of teams. A dandily dressed
young mau appeared before a mirror, in the
same room, and after some time spent in fix
i ing his curly hair, and adjusting the frippery
i of his wardrobe, Mr. Randolph partly raised
| himself, and inquired of him, "is your stage
' ready sir ?" " Blast the stage," retorted the
dandy, " I have nothing to do with the stage!"
; " Oh, I tbongnt you was tbe driver," coolly
apologized tbe interrogator.
i- How ro Steak in Public. —Somebody give?
this advice to new beginners. When you
mount the stand be puzzled where to put your
' hat. Look round, as though you were quite
cool and collected, and suddenly put your hat
upon the floor. Turn to the audience, pass
i your fiugers through your hair, and say, "Fel
, low citizens ;" extend your right hand, put
' your left on your vest, on whichever side hi
1 your private opinion your heart lies, swell out
i your chest as though all the goddesses of lib
erty in the world had left their respective
countries, and bad taken board and lodging
in your expansive bosom, aud were now strug
gling to find their way out. Repress their
generous efforts for a moment, and then burst
right out, leading off with a brief eulogy on
i the American eagle. The effect will be tre
mendous.
AVTS ANT> FRrrr TREKS. —Many really sup
pose that ants are injurious to fruit trees. This
is not so. Those acquainted with their habits
know that they visit frnit trees infested with
plant lice, both roots and branches. They are
attended by ants, which seem to use them as
their milk kine They are sought by the ants
because of a sweet fluid furnished by these lice
which supplies the ants with nutrition. This
accounts for their being about fruit trees. Take
warning, then, when you see the auts busily
ascending and descending in regular succession
young fruit trees, or others, and immediately
apply atbes or lime to tbem wbea the dew is
oc ; also applying one or both about the roots
of the trees infested bv taeca
VOL. XX. KO. 19.
How TO LIVE LCMO —More people die an
nually froaj a want of sufßcieut braiu-work than
fiom the excess of it. Good health of body and
mind depends on each having its full share ot
exercise and work, and it would seem from his
tory that we can better afford the body to bo
in a state of lassitude thau atlow the intellect
ual powers to lie dormant. There may be phys
ical cause for this, from the fact that much
thought induces a temperate life ; but the ex
ception to such a rule would be found so enor
mous us to show that it was not the only se
cret. We are rather inclined to think that the
most general rule and the one capable of the
broadest application, by which to attain to
that great desideratum, " a green old age," is
to give the mind full play—to expand the
powers of thought by reading and observation
and to banish the fear of death, resulting from
from an exhausted " knowledge-box." Wo
have shown to what ages the old philosophers
lived,and many modern ones have been equally
long-lived. Galileo and Roger Bacon both
lived to 78, Buffon died at 81, Galileo and
West were 82, Franklin and llerschel lived to
84, and Newton and Voltaire did not finish
their labors until 85. The astronomer Halley
was 86 at his decease, and Sir Hans Soane was
93. Michel Angelo nnd Titian, the great
masters of art, lived to 96. These, surely, are
instances enough to stimulate the individual
who wishes to live long, not to forget to culti
vate the intellectual faculties and imagination,
while he is attending to the physical aids of
exercise, cleanliness and temperance. We all
think too much of the body and neglect the
higher and divinerj>art within us ; we cleanse
the temple and adorn its pillars, but we forget
that the dweller therein also requires attention
and care.
GIVE THE Burs A CHANCE. —One of the
surest methods of attaching a boy to the farm,
is to let him have something upon it for his
own. Give him a small plot of ground to cul
tivate, allowing him the proceeds for his own
use Let him have his steers to break, or his
sheep to care for. The ownership of even a
fruit tree, planted, pruned,and brought to bear
ing by his own hands, wili inspire him with an
interest that no mere reward or wages can give.
In addition to the cultivation of a taste for
farm life, which such a course will cultivate,
the practical knowledge gained by the bov will
l>e of the highest value. Being interested, he
will be more observant, and will thoroughly
learn whatever is necessary for his success.—
Another and equally important advantage will
be the accustoming him early to feel responsi
bility. Many young men, though well acqnain
ted with all the manual operations of the farm
fail utterly when entrusted with the manage
ment of an estate, from want of experience in
planning for themselves. It is much better
that responsibility should be gradually assum
ed, than that a young man should be first
thrown upon himself on attaiuing his majority.
| SPF*K WFII. OF OTHERS. —If the disposition
to speak well of others were universally pre
valent. the world would become aecmparntive
paradise. The opposite disposition is the Pan
dora-box, which, when opened, Ells every house
with pain and sorrow. How many enmities
and heart-burnings flow from this source ! How
much happiness is interrupted and destroyed !
Envy, jealousy and the malignant spirit of evil
when they find vent by the lips, go forth on
their mission like foul fiends, to blast the repu
tation and pence of others. Every one has
his imperfections ; and in the conduct of the
best there will be occasional faults which might
j seem to justify animadversion. It is a good rule
i however, when there is occasion for fault find
-1 ing, to do it privately to the erring one. This
may prove salutary. It is a proof of interest
in the individual which will generally be taken
kindly, if the mauuer of doing it is uot offensive.
The common and unchristian rule, on the con
i trary. is to proclaim the failings of others to
all but themselves. This is unchristian, and
shows a despicable heart.
FERDrxr, HOUSES. —The practice of regula
ting the food of hors s by the amount of wrrk
they are required to perform, is a good one.if
properly followed. For example, a horse when
iyiug comparatively idle, as in winter, should
have less solid food thau amid the hard work
of spring and summer. Again, if a horse is
aboiu to be put to a work of extra labor it is
well to fortify him for it with alittleextra feed
ing beforehand. Bur the mistake we refer to is
the practice of over feeding him an hour or so
before putting him to work. If an extra ser
vice is required of a horse on any jrticular
day, and an extra feed is to be given him, let
him have it the evening besorehand, rather
than in the morning an hour or two before be
ing put to work. Why so? Because, if he is
pit to work so soon after eating, hlsfood does
not become digested, and he is obliged to carrv
about with him a large mass of undigested food
which is rather a burden than a help to him
If he is well fed iu the evening before the fool
is assimilated—changed to flesh and blood—
and sends health and vigor through the system.
As a general rule, a working horse should bo
fed regularly, both as to time and amount.
LIGHTNING ROPS. —As we BARE inquiries
almost every week about putting up ligbtning
rod. we will therefore giTe a general answer
to ®II who are in pursuit of such information.
In putting up a rod, care mu<t l>c observed to
have all the joints perfectly connected ; for it
has frequently happened that the lightning has
passed from ill-jointed rous into buildings. The
rod should be clamped to the building with
brackets of varnished dry wood or gUssinsula
tors. and its lower end should always be carried
down into damp soil. Care must be exercised
that no masses of metal in the building be sit
uated Dear the conductor, because if such a
mass be greater than that of the rod. the light
ning is liable to pass from the latter to the
former. The point of the conductor should be
carried aboot fourorjEve feet abort the bighes-t
chimney, and if it is of iron, it should be one
half an inch m G.ametsr for a building lOftat
fcigh