. . _ . ' . . „. . ( , 1 It ) ~.." ...rr it , . .: .. , .. (1 . i ~, , . , lir, .... r, r : , (s . ::: 1/, -- IP . , i. i - -......•.....z.;__•,, .-, . , „. .., . , ....., .. ~..., . . . /,. , . , ry) /v . 1._.„-t. t i.-,;,;,,,. r.------ : ,,,i_:::-,•:.J,: ji 1 ! f f._ l'/,_ '• . - , 1 .1' ! ' --. , , ,•,. 1 1 [... 1 I k • - 11 - ~... . \....._____ ,N t ~/ . • ; , . , , - , . .. _____ . • . . . BY lIENItY J. STAIIII,E. 38' YEAR. TERMS OF THE COMPILER. 13:7- The Republican Compiler is published every :),londay morning, by HENRY J. &AIME,. at 01,75 per annum it paid in odcance--52,00 • per annum if not.paid in advance. - No sub scription discontinued, unlesS at the option of the publisher, until. all arrearages are paid. ADVERTISEMENTS inserted at the usual rates. Jon WORK done, neatly ; cheaply, and with dispatch. F,..7office on South Baltimore street, direct , lyopposite Wampler's Tinning Establishment, one and a half squares from the Court Homse. tifoirc poctri). Prom the. Menasha (Wilsconiin) .kilvuento THE MORAL OF THE BELLS. The gweet hells are ringiug• ; What de they Easy "Come, to the feAlval---ceme It9l 1 gay, Life, merry life, is a lung holiday." Oh, ye false bells The grave bell h 4 What does It-say ? "flour follows vu hour, and day buries day, Lifu's precious moment is pa.ssing away :" 'Tim truth it tolls. Danger Is distant ; and pleasurels nein. ; The calls of the joyful, fools gladly hear; The cold voice of warning, falls dull on the ear, All unheeded. Yet still in its sileuce, tinui passes by, Till few are the winged hours still left to Ay ; Awl for them, once (led, all vain is the sigh, Wliu must needed. Sopt~lBsi UNDER THE LINDENS. Under the lindens lately it A could°, and no more, in dolt : r. woutiored what they could be at Tinder the lindeu.4. • I Raw four eyes and four lips meet, I heard the words, now SIVIt ! now SWEET ! nag thou tho fairies given n treat ? Under the lindens. I pondered lung and could not tell hat dainty 11113:130t1 them both so well Bees ! bees! it was yuur hydrewel Under the liudens "clett TWO STRINGS TO A BOW. I had - been all day reading a novel to my invalid brother. , It was now in early twilight that I found myself seated by a window, look ing towards . the west, and watching the golden tinged clouds, which the setting sun had irra diated with such beauty that but one thought depressed me, and that was, my . friend Mau rice was not by my side to join in my enthu siastic delight. Why I should have desired his presence above all the many acquaintances to whom I was endeared, was a secret which I bad not - yet betrayed. I certainly had not known Maurice above a twelve-month, and I had not seen him above a dozen times in that period ; for his visits to the Glen (which was the name of our home) had been mainly in duced by business transactions with my father, yet it often oddly happened that the last train of cars bad left before he closed his engage ment, and my father always urged it upon him to pass the night with us.—By a singular coincidence every evening was a pleasant one, and gencrally.the moon was in her full splen dor, the air was balmy, and Maurice would propose a walk, - which my politeness and in clination both favored. At' first we only rambled a short distance to the bridge to see the cascade ; -but b. deo:rees, as we became acquainted, we extended our walks until we traveled, not so very far, but so very slow, that my father expressed some solicitude about us on our return ; but Mau rice always seemed desirous of making good the time he had given tome by. being extreme- ly agreeable to my parents on his return ; evi dently they thought him a most fascinating young man ; I need not tell what I thought. At length the bUsiness transactions were closed, and there seemed no call for Maurice again to appear among us. He did not seem to Dri v e over the fact, but as he shook hands and bade us .his farewPll, hi whispero-d-i-a-my "lf I shou!d send you a letter, will you promise a reply ?" I answered somewhat ironically, "that ‘vill depend upon the contents of your epistle." "Very good," replied :Nlau rice, and he again bowed his adieu: How often, during the next fortnight, did I send to the post-office to inquire for a letter, and among the many packages addreqsed to my father, how eagerly I watched the opening of every one, thinking some one might be en dorsed for myself. Two weeks had now passed. LIE ant tat lel Litany a lonely rem ic with my self whether Maurice really meant as he said. and if so, what would he dictate—was he real ly interested in my welfare, or had I any posi- tine assurance that I was cared for 3 ninny fi uitless attempts to make out my own easejnst ns it really stood with myself, Mr.„ Haynes, a student in tny father's olliee, one day called me to his desk, and as he began to look — byeilds pile of l - ett - ers, -here," said he, "is one in which mention is made of you, Bertha ; just read the closing sentence." Why did 1 tremble so How I hoped the student would not notice the pallor that calm over my countenance as I read • "Joel; you tnay say to Ilcrtha, that I have been absent. fur the la•,t twoilays, .but that I no rztealls utimiltilbll of the ia:,t uhitipet I - 6re:l:lv:4 In her - ear.-=The ima r , ,e of that huiec t, often hitute ute ; but I !oust ./L. Lu 3 Fnhltilq il.flurilitytr----Prilutt I,‘filititg, 3grirultut, ritunturr, .Arts :- ; •sriturrs, crlir 311arkag, 6rutrat Vuumitir ,ftirrign 3utelligrarr, abutrtisiug, Ilutustutrut i - skt. G. P. R. JAMS is It ‘s LLt, I would :parry two or th ree young ladies, for I scarcely know-which I prefer." . "0, nonsense," replied Bertha, and so say ing. she left the office, but not the thoughts which these sentences ,bad enkindled. She took a long walk by the banks of the river, and there .she conceived the plan of addressing Maurice before he could write to her, and tell him at - once that she refused any correspon dence. She did not feel all was quite she was not quite sure he loved her only for the hour to flirt with, and now he was tamper ing with her affections, she would break the - tie before it, required a greater effort to sur render it. Full of this determination, she re turned home to eXecutd hm t io,tention ; but just as she reached the threshold, the penny post produced a letter addressed to Bertha. It was the bold, graceful chirography of Maurice. Seizing it with haste, she rushed to her cham ber, and quickly. - thrust it open. What a long document, thought Bertha. AS she is reading, let us transcribe some of it, which she after wards showed us: "Mr MAR have tried to dictate a letter to you without a word of LOVE in it. I did not mean to make a declaration in my first epistle ; but when . a subject is paramount in your thoughts, absorbing every other senti ment, how can you suppress it ? - Bertha, your agreeable conversation, in those long evening rambles, have left an iMpress upon my heart -that time will never efface. I know I am unworthy of your regard. but you can at least for the present, make me your particular friend. Think of me daily ; confer with me upon all subjects, so that our intima cy may be more strengthened, even by absence. If you have a tender regard for -me, you need not fear to declare it ; every such declaration is kept by the a profound secret. Write to, n►c by. returning mail, and believe me, truly, your MAURICE." While Bertha was perusing this letter, another arrived from her old school companion, Sophia Newcombe. It'relates so much to our narrative, that we. must be pardoned for in serting it entire : • “My DSAR BMITITA.—You know we *proni ised to tell each other every thing, especially all our heart histories. 'Well, -I have some-_ thing rich to communicate at this time. Bei.; . tha, I have had almost, but not quite, an offer of marriage. My admirer is one of the most fascinating men you ever saw ; he is tall, ele gantly formed, of a fine, intellectual counte nance, and overflowing with a merry heart. He has been out-here upon some law business, and I was introduced to him by the merest ac cident in the world ; yet when I met him, he recognized ate at once, and as he was walking the saute street, he went by ray side, and I assure you my, vanity was a little raised by the attention. We nest met in company :he attended me hotue..and during the court ses sion, we became very intimately ReCO:tinted. I will not tell you his name, as I want you to see him yourself. “We correspond weekly, and I only regret that I did'not better improve my time when at school in learning the art of letter writing, for he' issreally so full of rhetorical flourishes, and dashes on with such fine thoughts, that I am ashamed of those I sent in return. Now, I wish you to come and make a visit. I have fixed the time for the twenty-second of the sion to accept the invitation. "What a singular coincidence is here," thought Bertha, as she threw down the letter, "that both of us should almosi receive an oiler of marriage at the Same time." Bertha read Maurice's letter for the fifth time ! She did not believe Sophia New combe's admirer• was half so gentlemanly and cultiva ted as her's ; she thought how sho would like to have it accidentally happen for her to go to her friend's upon a visit and have Maurice call upon her—they wotild compare notes then to-sem e-atlvatttirgev --- She - frad - (pi i Le - forgo= I the resolution she formed two hours ago to abandon reciprocating thoughts by a corres pondence. - She had done Maurice injustice,' for had he not been gone, and as soon as he retut tied, did he not promptly perform his en gagement to write ? he was an elegant young man, she never cared for one before, and surely at sixteen it was not so very early to have one's affections enlisted. Aunt Patty was married at her age, and why should her parents be so ft , • • • Maurice's character, before she wrote to him ? AL any rate, she would answer this letter, if no more And Bertha had no peace of mind until she made an effort to do so. But what should she say ? that was a vexed question ; so she con clur should be non-committal, and-slit' woad avert to the past--their pleasant ram t)les —and the loneliness %,-licit_ his absence had occasioned her : and although she had the most resolute intention of concealing her per sonal interest in him, yet any slight knowledge of human nature would have betrayed the fact. Bertha was frank, open-hearted. and pure-minded—she loved Maurice : she knew she did, or she would not think of him contin:: : and although_she thouLht der y conc.:aled the fact, yet 11 , ..:r parents knew it as w... 11 ro; ‘,11( d! , l. The inv!tati.4l fi urn 311,s Newcombe touch After At length the evening came, and with it, in the laq train of cars, Maurice Wendell might have been seen . treading his way to Mr. New combe's residence ! Both Sophia and Bertha sat at - the window as he approached. They looked at him and at each other. Maurice en tered the sitting-room and there met Bertha! At first, his speech was stammering, and a great confusion was apparent in his Manner. He however rallied, and finding himself in an uncomfortable condition, proposed a walk with the young ladies ! Bertha knew not whether she were in the body or out of it. How Mau rice came there, very slowly dawned upon her mind, and when she found he was tire very identical beau about whom Sophia had writ ten, the very personification of a male flirt, who she had read about in novels, rose before her.—lle was an adept in the business of en trapping simple hearts, or he never would have recovered his usual air and manner so suddenly. And here were two young and in-- experienced hearts, wholly devoid of suspicion, upon. whom the foul stain of enlisting both their affections was chargeable upon Maurice Wendell ! his explanation was far from sat isfactory to either of the young ladies ; both felt how indiscreetly they had acted in keep ing the gentleman's overtures such a profound secret. But the archer lost his mark.—lle found himself not only defeated, - but so com pletely chagrined, that to get another, where he had pursued the same course, in order not to become a perfect by-word of reproach, he made good his promise and eventually married her. The wife to this day knows not how gong sneir a LuCa till ' pertnia- n4rrowl-y-f; hc Cf Truly, S. NNWCONIIIE." t. 4464 GETTYSBTLRG, PA.: MONDAY, OCT. 29, 1855. change of scene Would dissipate her thoughts, and by mingling in other society, Maurice would become secondary in her esteem. There was no way, however, she could delicately al lude to meeting Maurice At Mr.' Newcombe's, and ns it would be a rash act to invite 'him, merely to show her model beau to Sophia, and contrast him with her's, she abandoned it at once, and did not announce -to Maurice that she should leave home at all, as :nected • f to be absent but a few days. How singularly events frequently occult. which sometimes makes us believe a kind Providence so overrules our plans that'we shall find our very defeats are our greatest blessings. No sooner had Bertha announced her intention to accept Sophia's invitation, than Sophia thus addressed the gentleman who had Winos', but not quite, offered her his hand in marriage : - ‘'DEAR MAURICH,-I am about receiving a visit from one of my _dearest friends. She is a lovely girl, and one I know in whom you will be interested, on my account, if no other. I will introduce 'her by name when you arrive. Do not-fail to be with us on the evening . of the twenty-third of the month. My friend arrives on the previous day. S. N." The two friends met on the precise;day as agreed.; but the privacy of confidential disclo sures was prevented by the presence of a very kiln and stiff cousin of Sophia's, who would attend them wherever they Went... At night, even—that hallowed season, when so many love tales are breathed into listening cars,— the wakeful cousin was an effectual preventa tive to all free communication. Bertha only knew that Sophia expected her lover the next evening, and so quietly was the thing managed, that Maurice's visit appeared altogether acci dental. ..scapcd,alth cation rested upon Maurice, that from the hour he left Bertha and Sophia, we never heard of any more besieged hearts. but the one to whom he pledged himself in wedloak. Bertha thus concludes her account : "I never hear of a clandestine correspondence. I never see two lovers stealing out by moonlight against they parents' knowledge, I never hear of a singular interview, but I remember Mau rice Wendell. We used to remark (Sophia and myself,) that :11.-turice had two strings to his bow and lost them both. This visit to Mr. Newcombe's I considered the most fortunate our tniny lite—fhe still cousin that prevented an earlier disclosure of the secret made the real revelation more salutary. We never agnUi entrusted our affections but where we knew the chatacter of the person prevented such an issue ; and we have both married sensible - in telligent men, who have a perfect horror of male Coquetry." The Bloom of Age. A good won)nn never grows old. Years way pass over her head, but if virtu an( b - nevolenco dwell in her heart, she is cheerful as when the spring of life first opened to her When we look upon a good woman we never think of her age ; t-he looks as charming as when the rose of youth first bloomed on her cheek. That rose has not faded yet ;it will 41:NTT : fade- Thi•her neighborhood she is the friend - and benefactor. Who does not respect and love the woman who has passed her days in acts of kindness and mercy We repeat, suclfa woman cannot grow old. She will al ways be fresh and buoyant in spirits and ac tive in hunihle deeds of .mercy • and benevo lence, lithe young lady desires to retain the beauty and bloom of youth; let her not yield to the sway of fashion and folly, let her love truth and-virtue ; and ( to the close of life will retain tho , e feeling which now make life ap piar a gardin of sweets—ever fre,lr and ever lit_ W. VICW. 11: 111..,4.:41:1 "TIII.TII IS 31Iti'LITY PPXY AIL AND WILL Origin' of "Seeing, the Elephant." Some, thirty years since. at one of the Phila delphia, Theatres, a pageant was in rehearsal in-which it was necessary to have on elephant. No elephant was to be had. The "wild beasts" were all travelling, and the property stage director and managers, alinost had fits when they thought-of it. 'Days passed inthe hopeless task of trying to secure one: but at lost Yiikee ingenuity triumphed, as indeed it always does. an elephant was made to order, Of wood, skins; paint and varnish. Thus far the - matter was very well : but as yet, they had found no means "to make said combination travel. Here again the genius of the mana gers, the stage director and property man stuck out, and two "brothers" were duly in stalled as toga. Ned C—„ one of the true and genuine "b'hoys" held the responsible station of fore legs, and for several nights he played that heavy part to the entire satisfac tion of the managers and the delight of the audience. The part, however, was a very tedious one, as the elephant was obliged to be on the stage for about an hour. and Ned was rather too fond of the bottle to remain so,long without' "wct• ting his whistle," so he set his wits to work to find a way to carry a wee drop with him. The eyes of the elephant being made of two porter bottles, with the neck in, Ned con ceived the brilliant idea of filling the►ii' ivith good stuff. This he fully carried out : and elated with success he willingly undertook to play fore legs again. Night came on—the -theatre was densely crowded with the denizens of the Quaker city. The music was played in sWeetest strains—the curtain rose and the play began. Ned 'and ..hind legs" marched upon the stage. The elephant was greeted with round upon round of applause.. The decorations and the trappings were gorgeous. The elephant and theprince seated upon his back were kindly cheered.— The play proceeded ; the elephant was march ed, round and round upon the stage. The fore legs got dry, withdrew one of the corks, and treated the hind legs., and then drank the health of the'audience in a bumper of genuine elephant eye whiskey, a brand, by the way, till then unknown. On went the play and on went a Ned drinking. The conclusion march was to be made—the signal was given, and the fore legs staggered to - wards the front of the stage. The conductor pulled the ears of the elephant to the right—the tore legs staggered to the left. The foot lights obstructed the way, and he . raised his foot and stepped plumb into the orchestra Down wont the fore legs on the leader's fiddle—over, of course, turned the elephant, sending the prince and hind legs into the middle of the pit. The manager stood horror struck—the prince and hind legs lay confounded, the' boxes in convulsions, the actors choking with latighter. and poor Ned, casting one look. a strange blending of drunk enness, grief and laughter at the scene fled hastily out of the theatre, closely followed by the leader with the wreck of his fiddle, per forming various cut and thrust motions in the air. The curtain dropped on a scene behind the scenes. No more pageant—no more fore leis—,but everybody held their sides. Music. actors, pit. boxes and gallery,'rushed from the theatre, shrieking between every breath— ‘.l.lave you seen-the Elephant ?" INQuisrrivm.—W hen travelling , — ltiquelaire used a very mean equipage, and dressed in a very shabby manner. Passing through Lyons in this gniso. he was observed by the bishop of the diocese, who was afflicted with an in satiable appetite for news. The bishop, see ing a strange traveller of mean appearance, thought he had only a plebeian to deal with, and wishing to gratify his rolling passion, cried out: ''lii, hi !" ,Reqiielaire immediately ordered his postil lion to stop, and the curious prolate advancing MB e-eari4g "Where have you come from ?" "Paris." was the curt reply. “What is there fresh in Paris ?" "Green peas." "But what were the people saying when you came away ?" “Vespers.” "Goodness, n►an ! who aro you I—what arc you called ?" "Ignorant and uneducated persons call me DIM Requelaire. lliive on, postillion !" The [luke passed on, leaving the astonished bishop staring after the carriage. • 1:7 - When Lord — Elle r nlx)rough was Lord Chief Justice, a laboring bricklayer was call ed as a witness ; %s hen he came up to be sworn, his lordship said to him : "Really. witness, when you have to appear before this Court, it is your bounden duty to be more clean and de cent in your appearance." "Upon my life," said the witness, "if your lordship comes to that, I'm thinking I'm every hit as well dress ed as your lordship." - "How do you mean, sir ?" said his lordship, angrily. ..Why, faith," said the laborer. "you come here in , - your working clothes, and I'm come m mine." 17""No man." says Mrs. Partington. "was fx:tlA:r calculated to judge of pork than iny'poor in:sl)aii(l was ; when he wa:; a living wan, he kni..w what good hogs weile, for h© had horn Lt uu6l4t -1.111.4.14 irow Touching Delicacy. There .were many little occurrences which . suggested to me.with a great consolation, hoW natural it is to. gentle hearts to be considerate and delicate towards any inferiority. : One of these particularly touched .me. I happened to stroll into the little church when a Marriage was just concluded, and the young couple had, to sign the register. - "Thibridegrooni to whelp the pen was first handed, made a rude cross for his mark, the bride who came next did the same. Now; I had known the girl when I was last there, not .only as the prettiest girl In the place, but as having distinguished herself in school, and I could . not help lookingat her with some surprieo. She came aside and whisper ed to me, while tears of honest love and 'adtni . .: ‘ ration stood in heir bright eyes. 4.lle's a dear good fellow, Miss, but can not write yet, - he's going to learn, of me, and I wouldn't shame hini for the world ?" Why, what have II to feai, When there was this nobility in a laboring inan's tlaiightei That is a Boy:I can Trust. "I once visited," says a gentleman, "a largo public setool." At recess a little fellow came up and spoke to the master ; and as he turned to go down the platform. the master said, -That is a boy I can trust: Ile never failed 'me." I followed , him with - my eye, and:look, ed at him wheri ho took his, seat After-reeiss. Ile had a line, open. manly face. !thought a good dealabout the master's remark: -• What character hid , that 'boy earned .11e had . al ready ' got what would be worth to him more than a fortune. It would be 'passport to the best office in the city, and What is better.; to the confidence of the , whole ,•cotruntinity. , -I wonder if the. boys know ham soon they are rated by elder people. Every boy in the neigh:: borhood is know n,opinions forined of -him, and he has a character either favorable'or unfavor=, able. A boy of Whom the - master carfttay; can trust him ; he never failed me," will never want employment.. - ,The fidelity, pforuptness, and industry which he has shown at school are prized everywhere. Ile who is faithfulin little will be faithful in much. The 111-Looking Horse. A Frenchman near the Canada line in Ver mont, sold .a 'horse to his . Yankee neighbor. which he recommended as being a very 0011134 serviceable animal. in spite of his 'unprepos• sea4ing appearance. TO every inquiry of the buyer respecting the qualities of the horse. the Frenchman gave a favorable reply—but always commenced his commendation with the depreciatory remark : not look very good." The Yankee baring little for the lookii of th. horse, of which ho could judge for himself. without the seller's assistance, and being full) persuaded, after a minute inspection, that the beast was worth the moderate Sum asked for hint, made the purchase and took him home. A few days afterwards he returned to the sel ler, in high dudgeon, and declared that he had been cheated in the quality.of the horse. -Vat is de mattaire 1" said the Frenchman. “Matter !" said the Yankee, "matter enough —the horse Can't see !---he's as blind ns a bat V' !" said the Frenchman. "Vat I wa tell you 3 I was tell you ho was not look ver bak , I don't know - if -- he look at at . ~This puts us in mind of a jockey who sold an officer a horse, guaranteeing that he wouldn't shy before the fire of an army.—The horse was trotted out on a review day. and when he heard the first report, throw his rider. Full of rage, the ()dicer sought the jockey anal began to expand. •You con-found-ed scoundrel—didn't you say that this horse wouldn't shy before the tire of an army ?" ".1•Zo more he won't," was the reply : "Tisn't till tiller lire that he shies." LAUGHABLE OCGUILRENTE !a—ago_ a man•of-war's _Man, regular "tar" steppoi to the post-office, and, addressing one of the clerks, asked, "Do you know Jim Jenkins, of Springfield ?" "Not. I," replied the clerk, ,urprised ; "Why do you ask ?" The sailor replied, "Because I wanted" you to give a letter, to )dm," saying which he produced an epistle. "Very well," replied the clerk, "the letter will be sent to him, but you must put a stamp on it." "How the deuce can you send a letter tdJim Jenkins unless you know h inquired the tar. "Oh ! that does not matter," answered the clerk, "I can send the letter, but it will cost you three, cents for a stamp."-- "Stamp !" cried the sailor ; "show me one."— A stamp was accordingly shown to him, when he exclaimed, "No, shi'v'er me if put Jim Jenlitns off with three cents, for he often spent a dollar upon me ; havn't you got anything handsomer than this ?" The clerk replied in the affirmative, and showed him a ten-cent stamp. "Well," cried the . other, "this looks decenter, but havn't you got anything better ?" The clerk said no, when Jack, a new idea oc curring to him, remarked, "All right, put ten of them (the ten cent stamps) on the letter : confound my limbs, I will never send Jim Jenkins less than a- dollar's-worth." Saying this he threw down the dollar on the counter, took up tlw stamps, and Stuck them on the, letter, whi'th he then threw into theAetter-box with an expression of satiscal;tion at having ,inat dolliLeie worth ou Jim Jcakiita.. . The, Wyandot Corn. - • Among , the almost innumerla k ie vrietioof the maize plant, there is scarc e any .more markablu or whiCh gives better. promise ofpro-. ductivenesi than that called the Wyandot cord, ' .80 named from having been obtained of the Wy. andot Indiana. Some account of this variety , has already appeared in our columns. EiPer., n , inients are Makingnrithnit.in different parts of the Country.. A few hills of this hind of - maize • - aro growing iir the , garden of Mr. J. C. ThoMP- - :- son, of Staten Island. which justify very high expectations. One single hornet is enough for a bill, the main stalk sends out several 'Amite, •. the root, 'which - in their turn - produce perfect: , eitra. ,- . In , one hill. We counted. sevett stalks, and 'these :prodUced in all thirteen ears.. , T "The eirs'are !Urge, with twelve' rows of a futt round. grain, of a white color,- The speclinena • of the plants we sasv-vere of a Ansuriant growth, and ton feetor.more in height. with- !" leaves of a rich - dark the°situ ation was ha ushaded. -, • Thug r,orri- seems a little later than the Indian generitllyntultiia-i'z' ted, a fault WhiCh.'weettripose,taight died by selecting the carkest.ripening,,fureepti: At all events the productiveness of this-variety -, nis far beyond that of .any 'other we have" seen,4 "Each •hernel yields three or four thousand ffi•r g ' , '::: 'Mr. Thompson intenda:to send a. plant .;.or.tr ell iii • to the Agricultural. I!'air.--71 , 41Y.,Evoiliii!li,ri.vf.,. . Ittles'of Milking - itpd ; If you would have a.guntle 'Cow, he . • #OlO ,itit e yourself. . with If's cowiicks uuch,place,awitch,,UnAfe 14 iiiii. the leftsrm, the the left hand, annul be while milking, she kicks, lot it be followed-in variably by : a single blow. Never strike I.!pt. once at , n,time,even if,she kicks so herd. as break .your legl < tirtd,.„never omit it, if oho bits nothing. ,‘, . ,- • neverliy strilting t bat once, she hasno- time, to . get alto more .ter.rific, for who cares for a. blow . while stiinulatedhifury A small mesa of:Pleasant food it the,time will serve to do awity with any, ,ditiagrecable impresilden in connection with To be &good milker you tuusi'paro your naila short.. sit. an svntoirl; -milh 'fast,lnevor scold ; the cow,..nererget' Out. :of patiende; hoer' tail to her - leg , in: fly itina, ifeietiva teats,with ;the first stream' of milk, and nosier ' strike_tt cow for running or kicking. , applicd.,to,the.. teats, to ,softon them ' dries,. and, forms' a glossy .varnieh. which ,tewls... - to • cause cracking.or . chapping of, these :.parts. Cold water is much bitter; becoming quite: ry 'by the time the milking is finished, and ; ing the teats M clean.. . - , To Kintr APPLlV3.—ilavo you"ready's tight imrrel, and corer the bottom with dry - pebble*. Before putting your apples in the barrel; wipe -itch one witha dry cloth, and pick outiall that ire bruised or wormy. The pebbles - are= in tended- to attract the damp of the ipplea. Af• for putting in the fruit carefully, head up( the and plaster the seams with : marlar.inst put a thick rim of mortar all around OW tops Put the barrel to rt,s place, and let, 13 .remain undisturbed until . 'wanted fOr nse. Tbei bettt aorta of apples may thus until July: The above is from 'an: easteiti . iisPer, and isProliably'Worth a trial. • Vuurimus,—A letter from the Crimes tells he followin_ " roue in the Crimea. They smell the pOwder and await the mining 'of - the light to" throw themselves on their' -rvictirns. After 'ono ' of he recent combats, 'an 'English officer was fotmd on the battle field, who had just eipired, pressing in both his arms one of those'tirds of prey, dead, like himself, and which lie bad crushed in his last effort of agony !" 4 AbID Aous.--This disease is 01114 to he unusually prevalent in Indiana this fall.— Some persons out there, according to the Luis ville Journal, now consider "shaking" 'fash ionable, and have became, as skilful at it by practice` thartheyeruisTsiki" PEW and -Yankee DoNlic." ODD DMECTIONR.---letterB sometimes find their way into Uncle Sam's mail bag. bearing fantastic' superscription& One of this descrip tion was lately received at Fulton, 0.,' probs. lily from a lover to his sweetheart : My loving message, may you through The mail bags safely go. 7 - Until you find Miss Sally Drew, _At Fulton, Ohio. 192 Harper s agazine sari a etter was atoly received at the post office in Cleveland, direct& ed "To the big butcher at Cleveland .with big wart on his nose." The clerks in the office knew the tnan,, but were afraid to deliver it. cr,7A certain editor down Cast thinks that Columbus is not entitled to much credit for dia. covering Apierica, as the country is so -large that he could not well have missed it. f" -- .‘n . y. one :nay do a casual act of good na ture; but a continuation of them shows it a part of the temperament. "lien of the noblest lispositions always think themselves happiest when others share their happiness with them. • '"A Dian in (Mande, Maine, is father ,4 twenty-one children—quito ,a couipa4 of ia- fau try TWO'DOLLARS - A - - - YEA:R - . NO. 5. m EU El Columbia" -
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers