jOMiMojrn upcu the Altar of God, .tenia! hostility to every form of Tyranny over the Mind of Man.Ti Thomas Jefferson. MINTED AND PUBLISHED BY IT. WEBB. VoJwsae Iff. t. ' OFFICE OF THE DEMOCRAT, Ntxr door 10 Roiiisox's Stage Ofi'ioe. The COLUMBIA DEMOCRAT mill be published every Saturday morning, at TtP'O DOLLARS per annum, payable half yearly in advance, or Two Dollars . Fifty Cents, if not paid ivilhin theycur. "No subscription will betaken for a shorter pcriou uian six mamas; nor any atscon- linuance permitted, until all arrearages are uiscnargcai 'JtD VER TI SEME NTS not exceeding . a square toy I be conspicuously inserted pi One Dollar for the Jirst three insertions', 'and Tuientii'five cents for event subse quent nse'rtion. CPA liberal discount- made to those wjio advertise by the year. "LETTERS addressed on business, must be post paid. FARRIERS' WORK FQR OCTOBER. On the Farm. This is the month, as every good Farmer knows, in which all our energies should be put forih, For besides saving that which we Jiave already made, mur.h must bo done to laylhe ground work of next year's crops; and with a view oF bringing its appropriate labors to the notice of our rea'ders, we will endeavor briefly to detail tlicm. Fall Ploughing. A3 opportunity presents itself, all stiff, clayey grounds intended for spring culture, should Lc' ploughed up this and the ensuing month. By ploughing 7 inches deep and taking furrows 0 inches wide, tho furrows will be laid at ait angle of about -15 degrees, the best possible position at which ground can bo laid to receive the greatest amount of benefits from tho fertilizing effects of win T.TTfoTsismnnmra; cnwinus'inmrtrcaiuu are always infinitely better suited to the purposes of spring culture than if left un touched. But besides the advantages aris ing from the mellowing effects of the weath er, much less work will havo to be done in the spring when time is valuable. Gathering of Conn , If y.our com is sufficiently hardened, it E hould bo got in the latter end of this month; iy so doing you save much from tho rava ges of crows and those animals that prey iipon tho cornfields; and in addition to this you are enabled to turn your stock into your corn fields at a timo before vegetation i3 destroyed, and thus by ihe time winter comes on they are put in good condition to enter upon the ligors of thai inclement and pinching season of the year, a tiling that ev eiy husbandman should have an eye to; for if at the corHmencemcnt of the foddering seaspn they be in good plight, tho probabil ity of Ihejr. going through that trying period will be infinitely greater. , Gathering and Curing Fodder and Tops. No time should.be lost in gathering your -blades and topsfiand recollect that as soon - as they aroltfrf, they should be brought in from the 'fieuahd placed out of the weath er, riy protecting them from rain, you add greatly to their intrinsic value- as pro vender, besides rendering them much nioio palatable for your stock of all kinds. Gathering and Preserving Potatoes, As soon as your potatoes are fit for dig ging, take them up) and be sure to put them away with a3 little exposure to the sun as possible, and care should be taken to bruise them us little as possible. Turnens. By stirring the earth around your turneps earlv this month, Vou will add much to their growth and increase their product. Reds, Pttrsnips and Carrots. These roots should all bo taken up and put away this month. . . , Pumnkins. As your Pumpkins ripen; gatlier them and put them away in a dry warm room.- It is important that they be housed before being exposed to the frost of the field. J3ucl;whca(. As you cut your Huekwhcat put it into sheaves, these must bo sot up in the field, and uftcr a day or two bring them in and thresh them out immediately. The sooner Bg.OMSgUGOOIiPMmA thi3 latter work is done the belter, as the grain will thresh off much easier and with a groat deal leS3 loss. After your straw is threshed stack it away carefully, taking tho precaution to salt each layer of it. If y.ou do so, in mid-winter, when your provender is most wanted, it will afford you an excel lent resourco for 'your milch cows, as they will eat it with avidity', and to which it will prove a highly nutritious food if it has been properly cured. Wheat and Rye. Those who havo not sown their w7icat and rye should get it inps.early as possible; but no one should think of sowing either without first steeping the seed in strong brine or ey, and rolling it in lime or ashes. As sooii as the range in which your hogs may bo running ceases to . bo a pasture, put them up, and if you design commencing feeding with pumpkins, boil them, as! by so doing you not only render them more nu tritious by concentrating the saccharine mat ter, but by destroying the vegetable acid, you deprive them of the power of scourin" your hogs, a thing always to be avoided if possible. Once a week while your hogs are fattening, throw either rotten wood or charcoal iri to them.. Either will correct the acidity upoh their stomachs, and keep them to their appetites. Com Hush and Shucks'. These should be stacfied awav with al ternate layers of hay and straw, and be well sprinkled with salt. By taking- this precau tion you will find that their value as winter food will be greatly enhanced, and that you cattle will cat them as readi v as thov dn r hay, and if they be not so nutritious, they will be found to bo good; strong, sub stantial winter food. , i- "-"Tr. .. .. TowaYdi' the latter end of this month put away your cabbages : bo sure to do it before tho frost injures them, and they will keep much better. Farmer and Gardner. , . CIDER. We have been kindly favored by an Eng ish gentleman with the following process for making this article in his country which will undoubtedly be followed with success in this. Do not take the applc3 off the trees till they are fully ripe. Gather them in dry weather, and place them in heaps under cover. Jjeave them in inese neaps tin tuey sweat, or some of them are getting rotten. Then grind them. The pulp should be placed in clean tubs and not pressed under two days at least. It should bo turned once or twice during this time, both to prevent its heating and to imbibe air. When press edj strain the liquor and put it into a vat, a pipo or hogshead with one head out, and a cock about sixl inches from the bottom, is the proper vessel. To bach hogshead of liquor, put a wine glass and a half of sweet spirits of nitre. This is to cheek fermen tation. When the cap or crust whic'i rises to the top begins to crack or break, which vill be in about 21 hours, rack it oft into a clean vessel, and be very carelul that none of the lees get into it. Place the bung very loosely in the cask, or if it be inclined to woik much, placo a shingle over tho bung with a small weight on it. If not, it may bo bunged down, leaving only a vent peg very loosely put in. In eight days irom this it should be carefully racked off again, and in fifteen days racked off once more, and then put into the cellar. Beforo each racking the vessel into which it is put should bo well fumigated with sulphur, by plung ing in burning matches, mado of linen or paper dipped into- niollcd brimstone, and sprinkled with Caraway and also Lavender seeds, if they can be procured, and some nowdered alum. Means must bo taken to keep the smoke in tho vessels as long as possible, and to put in the cider whilo it is there. The vcasels should also bo woll scaldod with hot water, and then rinsed out. with cold, beforo it is used. If a cask is tainted the cider is lost. The great secret in mak ing good cider is to Stop the fcrmeiitatlou COTOTY, PA. SATURDAY, botf OBER 20, iSSSi a ijuiiitviv aa iioaaioie ; anu mo process does it most ofteetually : Cider may be colored, if it bo desired, with burnt sugar, and it may also bo made to sparkle by put ting a mile powdered white rosin in the pulp or po'micc while pressing. 3Jaine Farmer. From Chambers' Edinburgh Journal. . THE UNKNOWN PATNTR1K One beautiful sitriimer morning, about the u I nun i .1 if rt . . j-uai ioou, suverui yomns oi Seville ap proached the dwelling of tho celebrated painter Murillo, where they' arrived nearly at the same lime. After tho usual saluta tions, they entered the studio. Murillo was not yet there, and each of the pupils walk ed up quickly to his easel io examine if the paint had dried, or perhaps admiro his work of the previous evening. Mehdcz with a careless air approached his easel, when an exclamation of astonish ment escaped him, and he gazed in mute surpri.se on his canvass, on which was roughly sketched a most beautiful head of the Virgin: but the ei-prssion was so admi rable, the liners so clear), the contour so graceful, that compared with the figures by which it was encircled, it . scented as if somo heavenly visitant had descended n- inong them. 'Ah, what is the matter?" said a rough voice, I he pupils turnd at tho sound, nnd all mado a respectful obeisance to the great master.. 'Look, Setior Mrurillo, look!" exclaimed the youths, as they pointed to the easel of Mendez. Who has painted this who has painted 4WyI'.'19',lk7"(W?1neKe,nTT,ij-rras- sketched this Viig'm will one day be the master of us all. Murillo wishes ho had done it. What a touch! what delicacy! what skill! Mendez my dear pupili was it youJ" 'JNo ecnor," replied Mendez, m a sorrow ful lone. 'Was it you, then, Isturilz, or Ferdinand, or Carlos?" ! But they all gave the same reply ris Men dez. 'it could not, however, come here with out hands," said Murillo, impatiently. 'This is certainly a curious afl'air, gantle- rncni" observed Murillo, "but we shall soon learn who is this nightly visitant." "be- baslian," he continued, addressing a little mulatto boy about fourteen years old, who appeared at his call, "did 1 not desire you to sleep Here every night?" 'Yes, Master,' saidjthe boy with timidtiy. 'And have you. done so?" 'Yes, master." 'Speak, then! who was here lastnight and this morning before these gentlemen came? Speak, slave, or I'll mako you acquainted with my duiigcon," said Murillo angrily to the boy, who continued to twist the band of hi3 trowsors without replying. 'Ah, you don't ehooso to answer me, said Murillo; pulling his ear. 'No one, master, no one," replied the trembling Sebastian with eagerness. 'That is false," exclaimed Murillo. 'No olio but me, I swear to you master," cried tho mulatto, throwing himself on his knee3 in the middle of the studio, and hold ing out his littlcjianda in supplication beforo his master. 'Listen to me," pursued Murillo, "I wish to know who ha3 sketched this head of the Virgin, and all tho figures which my pupils find every morning hore on coming to tho studio. This night in placo of going to bed, you shall keep watch; and if by to-morrow ypu do not discover who tho culprit is, you shall havo twenty-five strokes with the lash. You hoar I havo said it; now go and grind the colors; and you, gentlemen, to work.' It was night,' and the studio of Murillo, the most celebrated painter in Seville this studio, which during tho day was so cheer ful nnd animated, was now silent as tho gravo. A single lamp burned upon a mar ble table, end a young boy vhoee sable hue harmonize with tho surroulidtng darkness, but whoso eyes sparkled like diamonds at midnight, leant against an easel. "Twenty-five lashes to-morrow if I do not tell who sketched these figures, and perhaps more if I do. Oh, my God, come to my aid!" and tho little mulatto threw himself upon tho mat which served him for a bed, where he soon fell fast asleep. Sebastian awoke at daybreak; it was only three o'clock, any other boy would probably have gone to sleep again, not so Sebastian, who had but three hours he could cali his own uouragc, courage, beuaslian, ho ex claimed, as he shook himself awake; "three hours are thine only three hours; then profit by them; the rest belong to thy mas- . f ' . r . .1 ' ier siave. juetme at least uo my own master for three short hours!. To begin) these figures must bo effaced," and seizing a brush, he approached the Virgin, which, vieweu oy ino sou ngnt ol the morning dawn, appeared more beautiful than ever. 'Efface this!" ho exclaimed, "efface this! No; I will die first. Efface this thev dare not neither dare I. No that head she speaks it seems as if her blood would flow if I should offer to efface it, and that I should be her muiderer, er let me finish it." No, no, no, rath- ! Scarcely had he tittered the3e worda, when seizing a palette, ho seated himself at the easel, and was soon lotqlly absorbed in his occupation. Hour after hour passed un heeded by Sebastian, who was too much engrossed by the beautiful creature of his pencil, which seemed bursting ihto life, to mark the flight of time "Another touch," ho exclaimed; "a soft shade here now tho mo u ihx Yes, jt h e rc! iLjJpcnsiose .ey.es. head! what dencacy! . Uh my hcautitul ''and Sebastian forgot the hour, for- got that ho was a slave, forgot his dreaded punishment all, all was oblieratcd from the sob. I of tho youthful artist, who thought of nothing, saw iiothirig, but his beautiful pic ture. But who can describe the horror and con sternation of the unhappy slave, when' on suddenly turning round, ho beheld the whole pupils, with his master at their head, standing beside him? Sebastian never once dreampt of justify ing himself, and with his palette in one hand, and his brushes in the other, he hung down his head, awaiting in silence the pun ishment ho believed ho justly merited. For some moments a dead silence prevailed, for if Sebastian was confounded at being caught in tho commission of such a fragrant crime Murillo and his pupils were not less aslotf islied at the discovery .they had inade. Murillo having, with a gesture of the hand imposed silence on his pupils, who could hardly restrain themselves from giving way to their adtniration, approached Sebas tian, and. coiicealinc his emotion, said in a cold and severe tone,- while he looked alter nately from the beautiful head of tho Virgin to the terrified slavo who stood like a statute before him. Who is your master, Sebastian?" 'You," replied the boy in a voice scarce ly audible. I mean your drawing master," said Mu rillo. 'You, scnor," again replied the trembling slavej 'It cannot be; I never gave you lessons," said the astonished painter. But you gave them to others, and I listen ed to them," rejoined tho boy, emboldened by the .kindness of his master., 'And you have done better than listen; you have profitled by them," exclaimed Murillo, unable longer to conceal his admi ration. "Gentlemen, do.es this boy merit punishment, or reward?" At tho word punishment, Sebastian's heartbeat quick; tho reward gave him a lit tle courage, but fearing that his cars deceiv ed him, he looked with timid and imploring eyes towards his master. " (A rxir.nl annnrj" rrlfllVlhe nnnils in I breath. Wiifiiihcr 20. 'That is well; but what shall it be?" Sebastian began to breathe. 'Ten ducats, at least," said Mender, 'Fifteen," cried Ferdinand! - No," said Gonzalo, "a beautiful new dress for the next holiday." 'Speak Sebastian," said Murillo, looking at lii3 slave, whom none of these rewards, seemed to move, "are these things not to your taste? Tell mo wriat you wish for; I am so much pleased with your beautiful composition, that I will grant you any re quest you may make. Speak, then! do not be afraid." .... 'Oh masterj if I dared "and Seba$tian'( clasping his hands, fell at the feet of his; master. It was easy to read in the half o poned lips of the boy, and his sparkling eyes some devouring thought within which timidy prevented him from uttering. With the view of encouraging him, each of tho pupils suggested some favor for liiiri Id demand, ., 'Come, tako courage," said Murillo, gai- 'The master is so kind to-day," said For; dinand, half aloud, "I would risk some thing; ask your freedom, Sebastian." At. these words Sebastian uttered a cry of anguish, and raising his eyes to his master he exclaimed, in a voice choked with sob3, "The freedom of my father! tho freedom1 of myfatherl" . :,. t 'And thino also," said Murillo, who) no longer aple to conceal his emotion, throw his arms around Sebastian, and pressed hid to his breast. . . 'Your pencil," shows that you havo tal ent; your request proves that yoU have a heart, the artist is complete. Front thib day consider yourself not only as, my pupil! ttoire"litOfeapaiuT:iav'eiii3ae a paliSt-" er. . . i , ,, Murillo kept his word, and Sebastian Go mez, better known under the name of tho Mulatto of Murillo, became one of the most celebrated painters in Spain. There 'majr yet be seen iji the caurches of Seville the celebrated picture which ho had been found painting by his master; also at St. Anne admirably done a holy Joseph; which is ex tremely beautiful; and others of the highesl merit! A man named Death, still a resident of this sta,te, formerly lived in this city. Over the door of his storei was the sign Rectified Whiskey,' arid directly utijler that, his name Absalom Death. Ah old lady .front the countiy, with her son, ii hearty lad twa3 ono day wending her way through the street iri a w3ggon when his sign caught her eye. . ( Stop! Rectified, Whiskoy) , Absolute Death. Thais a fact! , Johny let rac get out, there is ono honest.man in Cincinati, I want to see what ho looks like." Ci;j. Neivs. A western man being asked1 tho number of inhabitants in tho town where he lived some Babylon, Troy, or Palmyra, which was a wilderness fivo years ago answered. 'whv, about 5000 when I left, but I havo been absent nearly a month, probably 8000 now. . .... Somo years ago a noted warrior of the Pottawattomio tribe presented himself to tho, Indian agent at Chicago, as one of the chief men of the village, observing with the cus tomary simplicity of tho Indians,' that ho was very good friend to the Americans, and concluding with a request for a dram of whiskey. The agent replied, that it was not his practice to give whiskey to good men that good men never asked for whis key, and never drank it when voluntarily ofiered. That it was bad Indian, only who demauded whiskey. 'Then,' replied the In dian quickly,' in broken English, 'mo d rv rascal.' Here you little rascal, walk up and acn count for yourself where have you been?" "After the girls, father." "Don't you know better than that? Did you over Uhaw trie to do so whoa I was aboyt'
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