.i , i .'Mr,.'-: "rill - ' '" I - HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor Aim PubusiIek'. " " " . jyxA't eomNT,T-Tnn bbPubUcan pajrtt. Two Dollars t kr; Akhum. it VOL. I. RIDGWAYPA., TllURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1871. NO. 27. I.... ,. .'.(.,, I TUB HEREAFTER. BT t. t. PALORAVB. ' Sigh not, fair mother, ns thou scest The llttlo nursery at thy feet j Throe golden heads together bent I Like statesmen o'er somo scheme profound Convened til their more gracious Parliament. Sigh not, If o'er thy ftiltliful heart Keen shadows of the future go; The tortures dormant in the inline ; The woes of want nnd wrong; the sterner woo Of souls that start, and own a hidden shame. Fenced from the frosty piles of ill Man slips through life unmade, uubrnccd ; As honey from the flint-rock shed ; Wrong bruvely borne, tho brunt of pain well faced, Ruin in soft blessings on the gallant head. Endure 1 Endure 1 Life's lesson's so is written largo in sea and earth : And be who gives us wider scope Thau tho dumb things that struggle from tholr birth, Sets in a sky a star of higher hope. And with more joy than one who treads Tho road with never-swerving strength, His future-plerclng eyes survey Thoso who, wide-roving, to the-fold at length Trace with thorn-reddened feet their liual way. Then sigh not, If the smiling band Their uu forethoughtful brightness keep, And gamer sunbeams for the day When those dear stainless eyes may yearn to weep The natural drops that cannot force their way. Ito who has made us, and foresees Our tears, to thy too-anxious gaze Tho lone Hereafter centlv snares : Ouly His Lovo shines forth, through nil their aays Pledged to tho children of so many prayers. THE OXE-ETED CONDUCTOR. A very strange incident happened to me onoe, a good many years ago so Ht range, that 1 have many times thought I should like to write it down, to see if anybody could give me a satisfactory ex planation of it. My husband, however, until lately, has been averse to my do ing so ; but lost Christmas Eve, when there were a number of us met together at Grandfather Lorrimer's, singing songs, telling stories, and so on, I told my story, and it created such a sensation so many questions were asked, so many theories broached, and everybody, in fact, seemed to be so much interested that Joseph, that is, my husband, came to the con clusion that it was a better story than he had before thought it ; and a day or two afterward he said to me, if I still had a mind to print that little adventure ef mine, he would not object to my do ing so. . On account of the reason I gave above, I am glad to do so. I hope this little article may attract the notice of some one who can give me' a rational solution of an event that has perplexed me for years. Such an explanation would be a great relief to my mind, and I shall be glad to hear from any responsible per son on the subject. My address is : " Mrs. Joseph Lorrimer, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania." My acquaintance with tho hero of this story arose during my bridal tour. My parents were, and still are, Phila delphians, but Joseph's people live in Harrisburg, and he - himxelf is overseer in the Crosby Iron Works, just outside of that city. Our wedding was a very quiet one. There was no money to spare on either side, and, after a family breakfest, we went directly to the cars, and started for our future home. I was a young thing then just eighteen and my dear Joe was only three years my senior ; two shy, happy, foolish children we were, it seems to me now, as I look back upon that day so many years agone ! The very, trip from Philadelphia to Harrisburg commonplace as most peo ple would think it, was a wonderful event to me, who had never taken longer than an hour's ride on the cars before in my life. I viewed, with eager, interested eyes, the country through which we passed, and all that was going on around me ; the passengers, the car itself, with its fixtures, the conductor and the brakes man, were all objects whose novelty gave me plenty of food for thought ; and my thoughts, in those days, were very apt to evince themselves in eager, unreserved chatter. We thought we were conducting our selves with all imaginable ease and dig nity ; yet I do suppose now, there was not an individual who looked at us that did not guess at a glance our recently assumed relationship. I am sure the conductor did. He was a tine, portly-looking man, with genial, brown-whiskered face and busby hair; he would have been a really handsome man, had it not been for the loss of an eye; it had been lost by disease the exterior of the eye, save that it was sunken and expressionless, retaining its original appearance. The remaining eye was bright and blue, as jolly ana sparkling as the rest of his pleasant, good-humored face. As be came to collect our fare, Joseph handed him a bill. "For yourself and wife, 1 suppose sir?" he asked, with a smile. Joe turned very red, and bowed a dig nified assent As for me I confess it I turned my head toward the window, and tittered. Very ridioulous, was it not? The oar had not been nearly full when we started, but people dropped in at the various way-stations, so that by the time we reached .Lancaster nearly every seat was taken. We, at ' starting, had taken two seats, turning one to face us, upon which our various liand-baggago was placed. At Lancaster the cars stopped some time fur, dinner; and just as they were about to start again, our conductor en tered the car, ushering in an old lady in ' Quaker garb, beneath whose deep bou net was visible a kind, plump, rosy face, with bright. spectacled eves. She glanced around on either side, as she advanced up the aisle, in search or a seat, and, in obedience to a nudge jrom me, Joseph rose, and beckoning to the conductor, said : " There is a seat for the lady here." Smilingly the old lady approached. I commenced gathering up tho shawls and packages that lay upon the vaoant seat, that it might bo turned 'to its proper position, but the old lady checked me. I " Don't trouble thyself, friend ; I oan sit just as well with the seat as it is;" and without further ceremony she en sconced herself opposite me, while the one-eyed conductor deposited a large covered bandbox at her feet, and paid her bo many little attentions, at the same time addressing her in so familiar and affectionate a manner, that I saw at once she was no stranger to him. A glance at the kind old face opposite soon told mo they were mother and son, for the two faces were wonderfully alike, especially in the open, cheerful expres sion. My heart was drawn toward her at once, and, as the conductor moved on, I could not resist making some overtures toward acquaintance by asking if she was quite comfortable. " Quite so, thank thee," she answered at once ; " but I am afraid I have dis commoded thee somewhat." j " Not at all," I assured her ; ani the ice once broken, we chatted together very freely and pleasantly. As I had surmised, the conductor was her son, and very proud and fond of him the old lady was. She told us so -many tales about his wonderful goodness, his kind-heartedness and unselfishness, that when after we had left the next sta tion the conductor approached us, we really ielt as if we were already acquaint ed with him, and were disposed to be as friendly with him as with his mother. He stopped to exchange a few words with her, and as she was talking with us, we very naturally all fell into con versation together. He proved to bo an intelligent man, who hod seen a great deal of life, par ticularly on railroads, so his conversa tion, to me, at least, was vastly enter taining. ' Among other interesting things, ho explained to us the signs and signals used by railway officials upon the road. One of these signals the only one I need mention here he Baid was as fol lows : When a person standing in tho road, in front of or by the side of the car, throws both hands rapidly forward, as if motioning for the cars to go backward, he means to give information that there is " danger aiead." " When you see that signal given ma'am," said our conductor, " if the cars don't obey it by backing, do you prepare yourself for a flying leap ; for the chances are, you will have to practice it before long." i lie spoke lightly, but, notioing that the ideas suggested were not very pleas- I ones to me, he changed the subject, and I soon forgot the little feeling of discom fort his words had occasioned. The old lady did not travel with us far. She stopped at a way-station some twenty-five miles west of Lancaster, where, she informed us, she had a daugh ter living. Her own home she had al ready told us was in Lancaster, where she lived with a married daughter who kept a boarding-house. She gave us one of this daughter's cards, and Joseph promised, if we ever had occasion to visit Lancaster, that we would try to find her out. With mutual kind wishes and cheer ful adieux we parted. The old lady was helped out of the train by her son, and we saw her a moment later upon the arm of another gentleman, whom we supposed to be her son-in-law, walking briskly up a little hill that led from the station to the heart of the village. Our own journey came to a conclusion in due time, and the last I saw of the one-eyed conductor was when he stood on the platform of the cars, helping us out with our baggage, which he had carried for us from where we had been sitting. It is not my purpose to detain the reader with any details of my private history further than is necessary to give a just comprehension of what is to fol low. Two years had elapsed before I was called upon to take the second jour ney, to tho events of which, what I have already narrated, forms a necessary pre lude. This time I was journeying alone from Harrisburg to Philadelphia, upon a visit to my parents, whom I had not seen since my marriage. I had been having a good deal of trouble. I was very ill for some time after my baby's birth, and before I had fully regained my strength, my little son was taken ill. He had the whoop ing cough ; and after I had nursed him through it the whole summer, he took a cold in the fall that brought it back upon him, and finally killed him. I was so woak and miserable myself, that I could not struggle with my grief as I should have done ; I pined, and moped, and wasted away until the doctor said that if I did not have a change of scene, or something that would arouse me and cheer me up, he would not am wer for my life. It was the most unpalatable advice to me that he could have given. I did not want to be cheered nor amused ; I did not want to leave homeland the dear reminders of my lost baby ; above all, I did not want to leave my husband, for, in my foolish despondency, I felt a su perstitious dread that he, too," would be taken from me. It was impossible, just now, for him to leave his business to go home with me ; they were exeouting a heavy order at the foundry, which kept all hands working almost night and day. lie promised that be would join me as soon as he could ; but, after what the doctor had said, he would not bear of my departure being delayed a minute longer than could be avoided ; so he wrote to father that I would be in Phil adelphia on a certain day, in order that he might meet me at the depot; and, having put me in the cars at Harris burg, an1 seeing me safely started - ou my journey, he knew there. was very lit tle doubt but that I should reach Phila delphia after a comfortable, uninterrupt ed naif-day's ride. Ah I how different was this trip from the one I had taken two years before l How different was I the wan-faced,hol-low-eyed invalid, in my mourning robes --from the shy, blooming girl, in her bridal array, who found so niuoh to amuse and interest her in that brief journey I Nothing interested mo now nothing amused me all Was wearisome and mo notonous. I leaned from the car-window as long as I could, to catch the lost glimpse of poor Joe, who, " With a smile on his Up, hut tear In his ere," stood npon the platform, waving his hat to me as we moved away. After that, I sank back in my soat.too sad and despondent even to cry, and lay there as we sped along, thinking of noth ing, oaring for nothing bat the. memo ries from whioh they were .trying to force me to escape. 1 did rouse up a little as the conductor approached to collect my fare the re membrance of the one-eyed man and his nice little mother recurred to me the first time for many months. This con ductor, however, was not my old ac quaintance, being a sallow, dark-eyed, cross-looking man, as different as possi ble from the other one. I felt a little disappointed at first, but after he left me 1 leaned my head back again, and thought no more about the matter. After a while I fell into a doze, which lasted until the call of "Lancaster twenty minutes for dinner 1" ringing through the cars, aroused me, and in formed me that we were just entering that city. I sat up then, sleepily and languidly. It was a warm day in early- October, and the windows of the car cwere lower ed ; I leaned my elbow upon the sash, and looked out upon the scene before me. As I was thus gazing, drowsy and indifferent, neither caring nor thinking much about what I saw, I noticed a man upon the roadside, a little in front of the car in which I sat, gesticulating vio lently with his hands and arms. The next minute I was sitting bolt upright in my seat, my heart leaping almost into my mouth with sudden fright, for, in the gestures that wero be ing made, 1 recognized the signal which, two years before, the one-eyed conduc tor had told me meant " clanger ahead." The cars were not moving very rapid ly, and during the moment that we were passing by the man who had given the signal, I had a full view of him his face being turned toward the cars, and bis eyes meeting mine so directly that I could have spoken to him had I chosen. I recognized him at once it was the one-eyed conductor, and, seeing that, I was worse scared than" ever,- being now quite confirmed in my belief that an ac cident was impending ; for I knew that he must occupy some responsible posi tion upon the road, and could, therefore, nave made no mistake in the matter. No one else, however, either inside or outside of the car, seemed to partake of my alarm. The cars were slackening their speed, but that was because we were approaching a station, and from no other cause that I could ascertain. I had not intended getting out of the cars until I reached the end of my journey, but I had been so Btartled by what I had seen, that I could not sit quiet in my seat. I got out with the rest of the passen gers, but did not follow them to the ho tel ; I stood upon the platform, gazing up und down the track uneasily, but could see nothing at all that could awak en apprehension. The onf -eyed conductor was nowhere to be seen, though I watched the road, in the direction where we had passed him, for some time, expecting every mo men to see him come into sight. . A porter, trundling a wheelbarrow, passed me, and of him I ventured timid ly to enquire : " Is there anything the matter with the engine or with the track '" " Not as I knows on," he answered gruilly, and passed on. - I was still terribly uneasy ; I was cer tain that I had not been mistaken in the man or the signal ; the latter, especially I remembered a forward motion with both hands, as if directing the cars to back. I could recall distinctly the face and gestures of the conductor when he had explained it to me, as also his words, " If ever you see that signal given, pre pare for a flying leap, for the probabili ties are you 11 soon have to take it ;" and the longer I dwelt upon what I had wit nessed, the more convinced did I become that the signal had not been given causelessly. I went into a waiting room to sit down until I could determine what it would be best for me to do. I felt a most invincible repugnance to returning to the cars and continuing my journey; the excitement and worry had made me sick and faint, and- I felt that I ran a great risk of becoming ill before I reach ed my journey's end, even if there was no other danger to be dreaded. What if I should stay over at Lancaster until the next day, and telegraph to father to oome to me there r And at the same in btant I remembered that there was in my traveling-satchel, in the little outer pocket, where it had rested undisturbed for two years, the card which the old Quaker lady had given me, bearing the name and address of her daughter, who kept a boarding-house. 'I hat remem brance decided me ; if I could find lodg iug at that place, I would remain over night in Lancaster. - - , There, were plenty of conveyances around the depot, and summoning a dri ver to me, I showed him the card, and asked him if he knew the address. " Certainly, mum," he said, promptly : " take you there in ten minutes ; Mrs. Elwood's boarding-house; quiet place, but excellent accommodations, mum. ' Thus assured. I entered his carriage. and he fulfilled his promise by setting me down, after a short drive, in front of an unassuming, two-story frame house, whose quiet, orderly appearance made it look very unlike a boarding-house. A boarding-house it proved to be. however, and in the landlady, Mrs. Elwood who cam to me after 1 had waited a while in the darkened parlor I traced at once so strong a resemblance to my. old Quaker friend, as convinced me I had found the place I sought. As she was leading me upstairs to iny room, I ventured bo state that I had met her mother two years before, and had formed a travelling acquaintance with her. Mrs. Elwood's pleasant smile upon hearing this encouraged me to ask if her mother was living with her, adding that I should be pleasod to renew the ac quaintance if she was. The reply was in the aihrmative, " You will meet her at dinner, which is served at two, and she will be glad enough to have a chat with you, I'll ven ture to say." 1 wrote out my telegram io lamer.ana Mrs. Elwood promised to have it at tended to at onoe for me ; then, after doing everything for me that kindness could suggest, Bhe laft me to the rest I was beginning very much to feel the need of. A tidy-looking little maid came to me when the dinner-bell rang, to show me the way to the dining-room ; and there the first person I saw was my little old lady, already seated near the upper end of the long table. Bhe bowed and smiled when she saw me, but we were too far apart to engage in any conversation. After the meal was over she joined mc, shook hands very cordially, and invjted me to come and sit with her in her own room. I was glad to accept the invitation, for in my loneliness the kind face of this chance acquaintance seemed almost like that of a friend ; and soon in one of the easiest of low-cushioned chairs, in one of the cosiest of old-lady apartments I was seated, talking more cheet fully and unreservedly than I had talked since my baby's death. X expressed some surprise that she had recognized me so promptly, to which she replied : . "I had always a good memory for faces, though names I am apt to forgot ; when my daughter spoke to me about thee, I could not at all recall thee to mind yet as soon as thee entered the dining-room, I remembered thee." " And yet 1 do not look much like I did two years ago," I said, sadly. " That is true, my dear ; thee has altered very much. I almost wonder now that I should have recognized thee so promptly.' Thee has seen trouble, I fear," she added, gently touching my blaok dress. . " Yes," I said, " I have hud both sick ness and death to battle with ; I neither look nor feel much like the thoughtless, happy bride whom you met two years ago." " Is it thy husband who bos been taken from thee f" " Oh. nol no I no 1" I cried, the ready tears rising to my eyos ; " I don't think I could have lived if I had lost him. It vas my baby died that was hard Snongn ; the dearest little blue-eyed arling you ever saw just ten months old." My old friend's face betrayed her sym pathy, as sho sat silently waiting for me to regain my composure. Alter a little while she said, sighing : " It is hard to lose a child, whether young or old. I can fully sympathize with thee in thy trouble, for I too havo lost a son since I last saw thee, though I wear no outer garb as a badge ot my bereavement." I looked at her, a little surprise ming ling with the sympathy I tried to ex press. " 1 thought 1 remembered your telling me you had but one son '(" " That was all," she said sorrowfully. " God never gave me but the one, and him He has taken away." 1 stared at her now in undisguised astonishment. " Was not that gentleman surely. madame, I was not mistaken in think ing the conductor the gentleman who brought you into the cars when we met two years ago was your son t "You are right; he was the son of whom 1 nave spoken. "The one-eyed man!" I gasped, for getting delicacy in astonishment. The old lady flushed a little. ' " Yes, friend, I understand whom thee means ; my poor Robert had lost the sight of his left eye." " I saw that man this morning I" I cried. " I saw him from the oar win dow, before we entered Lancaster ! What strange misunderstanding is this V" " Thee has mistaken some one else for him, that is all," said my companion. gravely. " My boy thee could not have seen, for he died fifteen months ago the loth of this month. He died of cholera, after only two days' illness. Thee could not have seen Kobert. "I did. though I did 1" I cried ex- citedly ; and then I related to her the whole incident, dwelling particularly upon tno signal l had seen mm make a signal I had never seen but once be fore in my life, and then made by him when he explained it to me. " I was not mistaken," I concluded ; " I could not be; your son was not an ordinary looking man, and I remember his ap- l " . 1 1 n , v , , pearauce uiauncuy. oureiy as 1 set Here, I saw this morning the man who you tell me died fifteen months ago." The old lady looked white and fright ened, while, as for me, I was growing so hysterical with bewilderment and ex citement, that she would allow me to pursue the subject no further. She led me to my room, and per suaded me to lie down leaving me then, for she was herself too much agi tated by the conversation we had had to be able to soothe or quiet me. I saw her no more that day. I did not go down to tea, for the restless night I passed, in conjunction with the excitement of the day, rendered me so seriously unwell, that I was not able to rise until a late hour the ' following morning. I was still dressing when there came a rap at my door, accompanied by the voice of my Quaker friend asking ad mittance. I opened the door, and she entered. with white, awe-struck face, and hands which trembled so, she could hardly grasp tne newspaper to wnicu she di rected my attention. " Friend," she said, " thy life has been saved by divine interposition. The train in which thee, was yesterday a pas senger, in less than two hours after thee left it, was thrown over an embankment at a place called 1 The Oap,' and half of the passengers have been killed or wounded. Child 1 child 1 surely as thee lives, that vision of my poor Robert was sent to save thee 1" That is all I havo to tell. I know nothing more about the affair than I have written, and I have no comments to make npon it. I saw that one-eyed conductor make the signal of " danger ahead ; 1 was so much influenced by what I saw, that I would not continue my journey. In less than two hours after that warning had been given, the danger was met, and death in its most appalling form was the fate of more than ntty ot the human beings that danger-signal was meant to warn. These are the tacts, it is equally a fact that the man whom I saw give that signal had then been dead more than a year. Explain the matter who can 1 nave no explanation to offer. Butter and Cheese Statistics. Butter and cheese making has been a diffused industry in many countries, from the earliest time ; but it remained for American inventiveness to give con centration to the work and show the nations how best to do it. In 1853 we exported to England a million of pounds of cheese ; in 1870 we sent her fifty mil lions I In the same year we imported nearly a million and a halt of pounds to supply our own requirements; but in 18 iU, bo ample and excellent had our supplies become that we did not require to import a pound. It is comparatively but a few years since farmers in New York State, seeing the waBto of labor necessarily consequent on each small farmer being his own manufacturer of cheese and butter, com menced to form labor-saving co-operative factories, where one set of workers would do the work of many, and where. by affording superior facilities and giv ing special attention, the quality of the product might be improved. The move ment was completely successful, and at this day, the number ot these co-opera- tive factories in tho State is more than nine hundred, with a supply of milk from a quarter of a million ot cows ; every three thousand cows affording a million of pounds of cheese, valued at $110,000, or more than three hundred pounds of cheese and three hundred gallons of milk tor each cow. Uf this large num- Der ox lactones, Factories. Cows. Onolna county bas w 8t,ouo Jefferson couuty has 7'2 25,uoo Herkimer comity has 70 25,000 Miultaou county lias 611 20,000 Oxwego couuty haa M li.ouo Ki lo couuty lias rl ' 20,1100 OtaeKO county has 4(1 15,000 Oriiiiiie county bun 4-1 14.000 Other counties 440 110,000 Total 41 4m,ou As to the other Estates: Factories. Coven each. Ohio has M) ooo Illinois haa 50 400 Wisconsin has 84 'rO Vermont has 82 400 MaHHacliu&eits has.. 2ti 250 Michigan haa 22 410 Femikylvutiia haa 14 200 oilier Htatea 25 Canada 84 Total 817 So that on this continent we have now, after a comparatively few years of work, nearly 1,300 cheese and butter factories. supplied with the milk of more than 3(10,1)00 cows, and producing about 100, 000,000 pounds of cheese annually. Our export ot the product ot this new in dustry, or old industry in a new form, was last year the large amount of 57, 000,000 of pounds, valued at $ 3,000,000. while the whole export from Britain of her cheese is little over 3,000,000 of pounds. Even the Dutch, who have made a speciality of cheese for centuries, and who in their varieties adapt their artiole to many tastes and markets, ex ported last year only half the quantity we did. When tms experiment was commenced the European cheeses had all special markets and special customers, who took them regularly, and would not be induced readily to make the change, while the previous charaoter of our cheese was not in its favor, but rather the con trary. We had, therefore, nothing to look to for success but the superiority of the article at the price, and in less than twenty years, with everything rather against than for us, we have surpassed England in the world's markets, and are at this day selling nineteen times as much cheese as she is able to do, with all her prestige - and previous fame as a cheese producer I In all the history of progress there is no parallel to this triumph of American adaptation of htting means to needed facilities. Switzerland, from a kind of necessity imposed on it by the peculiarities of Alpine pastures, had had a kind of co-operative cheese-making be fore we commenced it ; but it was and is of small account. Our co-operative ar rangements enabled many single work ers with but indifferent success, by that union which is strength, to become a great power for supplying the world with two prime articles ot family con sumption, and for doing it well. Our triumph, however, is not yet quite com plete. Before it is so we have got to do one of two things, or both; that is, to produce a cheese which will surpass in its attractive qualities the favorite pro ducts of all other countries, or to produce cheeses so nearly approaching these fav orites in qualities as to compete with them successfully. Among the chief of these favorite cheeses is Milton, the highest-priced, which is made chiefly in Leicestershire, England, from the cream of one milking being added to the new milk of the next. The weight seldom exceeds twelve pounds, and two years are re quired to mature it. Parmesan, the most famed of Italian cheeses, is a product of the richest pas tures of the Milanese territory. It is made from skim-milk, weighs one hund red and eighty pounds each, and re quires the milk of one hundred cows for each cheese. Cheshire cheese, one of the very best ox JSngnsn cheeses, is the product ot the poorest land. Its weight is often as high as one nunoreu to two hundred pounds, and one pound of cheese to each cow daily throughout the year, is considered a lair average yieia. . Oouda, the best Holland, is a full milk cheese and weighs about fifteen pounds. Uruyere, a celebrated Bwiss variety, possibly owes much of its distinguishing character to the peculiarity of the Alpine pasture. It is made of milk skimmed or not skimmed, according to the kind of cheese desired. Chedder cheese is made chiefly in Somersetshire from milk in which all its own cream is retained, and Gloucester is made from milk deprived of part of its cream. " Double " and " single " Glou cester, are terms applied in reference to size and not as to quality, the one being twice the thickness of tho other. Dunlop cheese is the choicest Scottish product, and made much in the same way as Cheshire. The Suffolk cheese is made from skim- milk, and weighs twenty-flvo to thirty pounds. i , , .i The J.dam cheese of Holland owes not a little of its popularity to its smallness ana lorin. in making it at certain sea sons the milk is partly skimmed ; the cheese is colored a yellowish red for the English market, and red for the French ; the weight is about four pounds, and each cow in summer is expected to yield two hundred pounds skim-milk cheese and eighty pounds of butter; The Koquetort is the chief oheeso of France. It is made from the milk of sheep and goats, half of which has been skimmed ; its weight is four to five pounds, and it is believed to owe much of its peculiar character to the natural vaults or fissures in the neighboring roccs, where the ripening is performed, and which are constantly tilled with cold air from subterranean recesses. These special favorites are those which bring the best prices, and Wisconsin has commenced the right policy for America, by ascertaining how these favorites are made, and making thorn so as if possible even to surpass the genuine original ar ticle in its peculiar excellence. It only requires a few intelligent, persevering men or women to set themselves to do it, in order to secure that in a very fow years we should be sending Stiltons to Leicester and Edams to Holland, and the best variety everywhere. In all dairy management m order that the maximum of success may be attained. the whole of those things from which profits accrue and which dovetail or fit into each other, as it were, must be car ried on simultaneously. A very large part ot cheese, and possibly the best pay ing part, is made from skim-milk ; a butter factory should, therefore, always accompany the cheese factory as its com plement, and perhaps the best paying part of the farmer's work. Again, the whey of' every two cows will keep, or nearly keep, one pig, and, therefore, a pork department is a necessity, and one in which the produce is nearly all profit ana good prices always realized readily. Again, some cattle will pay better to fatten for the butcher than to milk, and there should be a beef department for this purpose. 'The feeding of such cat tle is scarcely a perceptible addition to the expense of the establishment, and the price on sale is a very substantial gain. New York State will not be what it seems destined to become, the world's provision warehouse, until each of its many co-operative factories, or farm fac tories, is thus prepared to take advan tage of all the sources of profit a farm presonts. Opium liaising In Tennessee. The Toledo Blade says! Dr. J. W. Morton, a gentleman residing in Nash ville, has for soveral years past given considerable attention to the culture of opium in Tennessee, in order to stimu late which he sent abroad for different kinds of seeds, and distributed them gratuitously among his friends and neighbors. Owing to the lateness of last year's planting, the crop of 1670 proved a lailure, which was, perhaps, also due to the inferior aualitv of the soil. To obviate this difficulty, he ob tained seed this year from Calcutta and Smyrna, for which he paid as high as 11.50 in gold per ounce. The crop of tne present season nas been a success, and the doctor will harvest from fifty to seventy-five pounds of opium per acre, from which he will no doubt realize a handsome profit. Another-gentleman, Itev. Fountain E. Pitts, who has follow ed the example set by Dr. Morton, and also extensively engaged in the culture ot tne poppy, reports similar success. Af ter three years trial he succeeded in raising the best opium poppy seed from Smyrna, whioh be planted in good land, ana now cultivates in niucn tne same manner as cotton. - When the capsu are ready to scarify, he makes an incision in one side, and the next evening scrapes off the gum, which has, when first gathered, the appearance and consistency of cream. Incisions are then made on the opposite sides of the capsules, and the process of gathering repeated the following evening, which exhauBts the capsules. A few hours after the opium is gathered it turns a dark purple color, which continues to grow deeper until the characteristic opium color is reached. As long as opium and its products re main a medical necessity, we may as well congratulate ourselves that it has been demonstrated that we can grow it ourselves, and thus probably do away with importing this expensive drug from foreign countries ; but of all exisiting remedies, the ultimate benefit derived from which is of a doubtful kind, and whioh causes probably more injury in proportion to the good it accomplishes. opium, next to whiskey, takes the fore most rank. A correspondent writes to iuquire what is the best treatment to prevent the development of hydrophobia in dogs '" Don't know about the best.but if you will give your dog water enough it is pretty certain he can't have the dis ease. ' The safest way to insure him an abundance of this indispensable fluid is to anchor bim in about seven feet of wa ter, so that his head will be from eigh teen to twenty-five inches below the sur face. In that way he can drink as much as he wants. Any surplus he may swauow win oo more good than barm. Chicago Bevuhlican. 1 1 BT EDKA CAUQBR DAVIS. , , Through pane and crevice the moonbeams fall, And the owl takes np his shrilly call ; -; The beaded grass Is afrlint with dew, And blithely tho cricket, the long night through, - i Slugs chirrup, chirrup. . From her cosy nook by the ample hearth, 8tie fills the house with her lightsome mirth ; Never the day so dark and drear, . That eho cannot lighten with note of cheer Chirrup, chirrup. When tho summer hours wax bright and long, And the air is laden with scent nud song; Whilo tho fierce heats glide lu tho wake of Juno, Sho begins to pipe her noisy tune . ; (Jinrrup, cmrrup. , And still. When the autumn days grow brief, Ana tne cccuc tints nave ayea eacn icai, Beneath the hedee. nnd beside the hearth, This tricksy sprite, with its mocking mirth, Sings chirrup, chirrup. Alas ! for tho gifted brain that wrought, And the hand that penned tho glowing thought, That linked for ayo to a deathless fame, . Dear household fairy, thy humble name Thy chirrup, chirrup." Each happy sons In earth's wide domain To our iuuer seuse bears a sod refrain ; Ami we hush tho sigh or vain regret For the vanished joys inwoven yet With each cmrrup, cmrrup i . Oliver OptWt Nagazino. Pickens's Cricket on the Hearth. MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS. Brunettes are coming into fashion again. Indian tradesmen at Niagara complain mournfully of the season. Miss Ada Shriver, of Dayton, Ohio, . has been appointed Professor of Paint ing, in Michigan University. A watering-place correspondent writes that where he is they distinguish be tween tenor and bass musquitoes. The Postoffice Department has figures to Bhow that 100,000 peoplo have settled in Texas during the past year. , A man in Barnet, Vt., boasts of hav ing read the New Testament through sixty-five times within ten years. A Massachusetts boy cut off his young sister's golden curls while she slept, to get money with which to go to the ces. Some of the farmers of Tennessee are successful in their attempts to raise opium from the poppy. The yield is from fifty to eeventy-five pounds to the acre. The " Carolina Broom Company " is a company of colored men , engaged in the manufacturing ot brooms in Colum bia, 8. C. - .l! THE CRICKET, The Japanese government are to have - a now gold and silver coinage, to corres pond with the American, pf which tho yeu, or dollar, will be the unit. ' - k : Tho citizens of New Zealand have de- . termined to form a joint stock whaling , company, to compete with American whalers in those waters. ' Dr. Duvall, who is serving out a life sentence in the Waupun (Wisconsin) prison, for murdering his wife, supports his daughter by writing religious music. L. N. Casanava, a Cuban gentleman - residing in Virginia, proposes to estab lish a Cuban colony in Fauquier county. Virginia, made up from the best social class in the island. ,-. Dame Fashion's latest edict, to the ef fect that quiet house weddings will be strictly en regie next winter, appears generally to have been favorably receiv ed by her devotees. - - - - The Empress Eugenie is about to make a visit to Spain to see her mother. Na poleon is purchasing property near Ge neva, in Switzerland, with a view of re siding there. John King, a Quaker, was tho first teetotaler in Great Britain. lie is now seventy-five years old, and is living with his fourth wife. All the teetotalers of the United Kingdom are going, to give a penny each for his benefit It is said that a reckless potato bug. having gone through the State of Khode island, -was last seen mounted on a wind mill by ths seaside, wiping his eyes on the sails, and weeping because there were no fresh world to conquer. , ... ; , -j A Lowell ! paper relates that a man in that town kept the dead body of child for three weeks in alcohol, in a tin ' boiler, that he might bury it with his ; wife, whose death he was expecting,and who died a few days ago ! ', ' The Boston . Transcript ventures the opinion that this is the carnival sum mer for vermin. Musquitoes sing like ( locomotives, and sting like the piercing , of porcupine quills, while bugs swarm like the locusts of old. Now ! is the time, when cholera is threatening, to use disinfactAnta. anrl in keep everything pure and clean about ' 1.1 1 - . me oouse. iteuiemDer Cleanliness is next to godliness especially when an epidemio is approaching. - ' A general drouth prevails throughout ' the northern tier of counties in Texas. . All kinds of vegetables and farm pro ducts, except cotton, are so nearly a to- ' tal failure that a stampede of settlers is ; expected as soon as cold weather sets in, - A California genius has invented what . c . he calls the Eureka boot-puller, which . consists of a leather belt having two ' hookB attached to it. He places the belt " ' "' over his right shoulder, adjusts the hooks ,. ; in his boot-straps, and then leans back- ' ward and the tightest boot is conquered. ' 3 ' t:' A rural gent of eighteen summers in- J " ' ' vested in a banana on the ears on Mon- L ' day. He carefully removed the peel, and put it on the seat by his side y thea ' . he broke the fruit up in small pieces, t : , eyeing it anxiously as he did so, - When , this was done he picked up the peel, .' shook it in his lap, and finally threw the ' Eieces out of the window, remarking as" J e did so, That's the fust of them prize 1 packages ever I bought, an it's the last, you bet" ( : I I
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers