HY D. A. & C. H. BUEHLER VOLUME XXIII. i m tinumm g have dye at length with dreaming—henceforth, The Richest & Best Assortment oh I thou soul ermine, Thou must take up sword and gaunlet, waging OF SPRING & SEEDER GOODS, 1_ _ warfare most divine. For Gentlemen's Wear, EVER OPENED IN GETTYSBURG! HEIM' 6 11001.1JEDAUCH V 'AKE pleasure in calling the attention -m• of their friends and the public to their extensive stock of Fashionable Gocde for gentlemen's wear, just received from the city, which, for variety of style, beauty of finish, and superior quality, challenges comparison with any other stock in the place. Our assortment of Cloths, plain and fancy Tweeds and Cassimeres, Vestings, Satinets, Summer Coatings, Sz‘w" CA N"l' BE BEAT ! Give us a call, and examine for yourselves. We have pur chased our stock carefully, and with a de sire to please the tastes of all, from the most pomace' to the most fatidious. 11CrTAILORING, in all its branches, attended to as heretofore, with the assist ance of good workmen. KT - The-FASHIONS for Spring and Summer have been received. Gettysburg, April 30. 1852. REMOVAL! REMOVAL! KEW q,Q)0,11A,,, CIORCIE ARRIOILD HAS just returned from the city with stock of fresh Goods embracing every variety of LADIES' DRESS GOODS, PLAIN. STRIPED ANS: PIOURISD. Plain and figured Silks, all very cheap Bonnets. Bonnet Silks, and Satins. Ribbons, Flowers. &c. Alpacas Black and fancy colored. M. Delaines, Berage Delnines, Lawns Bohemian Grass Cloth. Hosiery. Gloves, &c. Also, superfine CLOTZS, F.ANCY GASSIMERS eashmaretts, Pararnetta Cloths, Jenetts Tweeds, Velvet Cords. Black Satin Vestings, extra good, &c., Also a large lot of 2)4.),ltt.'BilW:loV o Fresh liroccries, Queensware, All of which will he disposed of on the most reasonable terms. ig jrCall at Sell's Corner if you want Ilargainii.jii. We pledge ourselves not to be undersold by any establishment is this place or ele w here. A pril 2,-1852 4 Filtll% , 0_4(10 S 1.1 ? QV? asawcoc.o..zoa FA H N ESTOCK & SONS would • again inform their friends and the that they have just returned front the Cities with their usually Large, Cheap and well selected Stock of Goods, to which they invite the attention of purchasers,— Consisting ul 2)117 if ,1)1),D Grocerice, Queenstrare, Ilardware, Sadlery, Oil and Pai Due Stuffs, Cedar Ware, 4-e." Our Stock of Dress Goods, to which the Ladies are particularly invited, is the Larg est and Prettiest ever offered—Herage De Lantos. Poploins, M. de Laines, Lawns, Silks, forage, Tissues, Alpaca's, &c. To the Gentlemen we offer the Largest and Cheapest assortment of Black and Fancy Cloths, Cassimeres, and Vestings, Tweeds, Kent, Jeans, Cords, Valenciaa, Cottonsdes, and Pants Sniff of every var iety. Also, Ready Made Linen Coats, CARPBTS • & MATTING, fineA assortment of Bonnets, Bonne Rib/eons, Artificials, Fans, and Dress Trim minas of every variety. Ladies' Shoes, Palm, Panama and Leghorn Hats, Domestics of all kinds and prices, Groceries, cheaper than ever, Queensware, Dye Stolle, and Cedar Ware, &c., &c. The attention of the public is also direct ed to our very Large and general asiort went of 31AMIDVAIBM.9 the largest stock ever offered, which will be sold very low. Also, their complete Stock of SJIDDLERY, SHOE FINDINGS, OILS 4- IMINTS, GLASS, NAILS, and every variety of Coach TRIMMINGS, We ask our Friends to give us a call and examine our Stock, as we flatter our selves that we can please them as hereto fore in Pretty end Cheap GOWN. Saatuar.FAIFINNNTOON. JAMBE F. FAHNIIBTOM HENRY/. FANNESTOCIF. March 9-1852 Bonnets and Millinery Goods. LADIES in went of Bonnets, Ribbons, Silks, Florences, Flowers, Are., will find them in flue style, and cheapest at- MIDDLECOFFS. LAWNS AND PRINTS. FAST Colored LAWNS, at from a to 20 cents. Prints, warranted Madder Colors, at 4,5, EL 8, 10, and 12 cents.— New Patterns in great variety, just open ed at MIDDLECCFF'S. Ladies call and see them. • "Blanks of all kinds for =ale at this office. Wak log. BY CAROLINE A. BRIOON Life is struggle, combat, victory ! Wherefore have I slumbered on, With my forces all unmarshalled, with my weap ons all undrawn 1 Oh ! how many a glorious record had the angels of me kept, Had I done instead of doubted, had I warred in stead of wept ! But begone, Regret, Bewailing! ye but weaken a the best— I have tried the trusty weapons rusting erst with in my breast. I have wakened to my duty—to a knowledge strong and deep, Thal I reeked not of aforetime, in my long inglo rious sleep ! For to live is something useful, and I knew it nu before. And I dreamed not how stupendous was the se cret that I bore— The great, deep, mysterious secret of • life to be wrought out Into warm, heroic action, weakened not by foar or doubt. In this subtle sense of being newly stirred in every vein, I can feel a throb eleectric—pleasure half allied to pain. 'Tis so great. and yet so awful—so bewildering yet so brave— To be king in every conflict where before I crouch ed a slave! •Ti. so glorious to be conscious of a growing pow or within, Stronger than the rallying forces of a charged and marshalled sin. Never in those old romances felt I half the sense of life, That I feel within me stirring, standing in this place of strife. Oh! thmte olden days of dalliance, when I win toned with my fate— When I trilled with a knowledge that lied well nigh come too late, Yet, my Itonl, look not behind thoo ! thou haat work to do at last i Let the brave toil of tho Present over-arch the crumbled Past. Build thy groat acts high and higher—build them on the conquered sod IVhere thy weakness first fell bleeding, and thy filet prayer rose to (;od. THE RUSTIC WREATH. BY MISS MITFORD I hail taken refuge in a harvest field be longing to my good neighbor, Farmer Creswell, ; a beautiful child lay on the ground, at some little distance,; whilst a young girl, resting from the labor of reap ; tog, was twisting a rustic wreath—enam elled corn flowers, brilliant poppies, snow white lily-blues, and light, fragile hars !tells, mingled with turfs of the richest , wheat ears,—around its hat. There was something in the tender youth fulness of these two innocent creatures, in the pretty, though somewhat fantastic oc cupation of the girl, the fresh, wild flow ers, the ripe and swelling corn, that har monised with the season and the hour, and conjured up memories of "Dis and l'roserpine," and of all that is gorgeous and graceful in old mythology,—of the lovely Lavinia of our own poet, and of that finest pastoral in the world, the far lovelier Ruth. But these fanciful associations soon vanished before the real sympathy excited by the actors of the scene, both of whom were known to nu, and both objects of sincere and lively interest. The young girl, Dora Creswell, was the orphan niece of one of the wealthiest yeo men in our part of the world ; the only child of his only brother ; and having lost both parents while still an infant, had been reared by her widowed uncle, and fondly and carefully as his own son Walter. He said he loved her quite as well, perhaps he loved her better; for, although it were impossible for a father not to be proud of the bold, handsome youth, who at eight teen had a man's stature, was the best ringer, the best cricketer, and the best shot in the country, yet the fair Dora, who, nearly ten years younger, was at once his handmaid, his-housekeeper, his plaything, and his companion, was evidently the very apple of his eye. Our good farmer vaunt ed her accomplishments,aa men of his class are wont to boast of a high bred horse or a favorite greyhound. She could make a shirt, and a pudding, darn stockings, rear poultry, keep accounts, and read the news papers ; was as famous for gooseberry wino as Mrs. Primrose, and could compound a syllabub with any dairy woman in the country. There was not such a handy little creature anywhere; so thoughtful and trusty about the house, and yet out of doors, as gay as a lark, and as wild as the wind, —nobody was like his Dora. §o said, and so thought farmer Cremwell ; Atitd, before Dora was ten years old, he bad resolved that in duo time, she should marry hie son, Walter, and informed both parties of his intention. Now Farmer CresswelPs intentidns wore known to be as unchangeable as the laws of the Medea and Persians. Ho was a fair specimen of English yeomen, a tall, square built, muscular man, stout and active, with a resoluta countenance, a keen eye, and au intelligent smile; his temper was boister ous and irascible, generous and kind to those whom he loved, but quick to offence, and slow to pardon, expecting and exact log implicit obedience from all about him. With all Dera's good gißa the sweet add yielding nature of the gentle and submia. GETTISBURG, PA. FRIDAY EVENING, MAY 14, 1852. s ive little girl, was, undoubtedly, the chief MOO of her uncle's partiality. Above all, he was obstinate in the highest degree, had never been known to yield a point or change a resolution, and the fault was the more inveterate because ho called it firm ness, and accounted it a virtue. For the rest, he was a person of excellent principles and perfect integrity ; clear-headed, pru dent and sagacious, fond of agricultural experiments, an pursuing them cautious ly and successfulli, a good farmer and a good man. Ills son Walter, who was in person a handsome likeness of his father, resembled him also, in many points of character—was equally obstinate, and far more fiery, hot and bold. lie loved his pretty cousin as much as he would love a favorite sister, and might, very possibly, if left alone, have become attached to her as his father's wish- es; but to be dictated to; to be chained down to a distinctive engagement ; to hold himself bound to a mere child—the very idea was absurd—and restraining, with difficulty, an abrupt denial, he walked down into the village, predisposed, out of sheer contradiction, to fall in love with the first young woman who should come in his way —and he did fall in love accordingly. Mary Hay, the object of hiti passion, was the daughter of a respectable mistress of a small endowed school at the other side of the parish. She was a deli cate, interesting creatures with a slight, drooping figure, and a fair down-marked cast face, like a snow drop, forming such a crontrast with her gay and gallant woer, as hove, in his vagaries, is often pleased to bring together. The courtship was secret and tedious, and prolonged from months to years ; for Mary shrank from the painful contest which she knew that an avowal of her attachment would occasion. At length her mother died, and deprived of a home and maintainance, she reluctantly consent ed to a private marriage. An immediate discovery ensued, and was followed by all the evils, and more than all, that her worst fears hail anticipated. Her husband was turned from the house of his father, and in less than three months, his death, by an inflammatory fever, left her a desolate and a penniless widow ; unowned and unassisted by the stern parent, on whose unrelenting temper neither the death of his son, nor the birth of his grandson, seemed to make the slightest impression ! But for the general sympathy excited by the deplora• hie situation, and blameless deportment of the widowed bride, she and her infant must have taken refuge in the work-house. The whole neighborhood was zealous to relieve and serve them ; but their most liberal ben efactress, their most devoted friend, was poor Dora. Considering her uncle's par tiality to herself as . the primary cause of all this misery, she felt like a guilty crea ture; and casting off at once her native timidity and habitual submission, she had repeatedly braved his anger, by the most earnest supplications for mercy and for pardon; and when this proved unavailing, she tried to mitigate their distresses by all the assistance that her small means would admit. Every shilling of her'pocket mon ey she expended on her dear cousins; worked for them, and transferred to them ever present that was made to her-self, front the silk frock to the penny tarlot.— Everything that was her own she gave, but nothing of her uncle's; for though sorely tempted to transfer some of the plenty a round her, to those whose claim seemed just, and whoa . ° need was so urgent, Dora felt that she was trusted, and she must prove herself trustworthy. Such was the posture of affairs, at the Inie of my encounter with Dora and little Walter, in the harvest field ; the rest will be best told in the course of our dialogue : "And so, madam, I cannot bear to see my dear cousin Mary so sick and so mel ancholy ; and the dear, dear child, that a king might be proud of—only look at him!" exclaimed Dora, interrupting herself, as the beautiful 'child, sitting on the ground, in all its placid dignity of infancy, looked up at me, and smiled in my face. "Only look at him l" continued she, "and think of that dear boy, and his dear mother, liv ing-on charity, and they, my uncle's lawful heirs, whilst I, that have no right whatso ever, no claim, none at all, I that, compar ed to them, am but a far off kinswOman, the mere creature of his bounty, should, rev el in comfort and in plenty, and they starring! I cannot bear it, and I will not. And then the wrong that ho is doing him self ; he that is roally.good and kind, to be called a hard-hearted tyrant by the whole country side. And ho is unhappy himself, too; I know that he ie. Tired as heis when he comes home, Ink will walk about his room half the night ; and often, at meal hours, he vrjll drop his knife and fork, and sigh so heivily. Ho may turn me out of doors, as he threatened; or, what is worse, call me ungrateful and undutiful, but he shall 'see this boy." i "ale has novetiseen him, then? and that Is why you are tricking him out r , prof. tily ?" ' - • \ "Yes, ma'am. Mind what I have told you, Walter ; and hold up your had, and say what I bid you." ' ' • ; e ••FEARLEBB AND FREE." "Gan-papa's fowers 1" stammered the pretty boy, in his sweet childish voice, the first words I ever heard him speak. "Grand-papa's flowers !" said the zealous preceptresm "Gan-papa's fowers !" echoed the boy "Shall you take the child to the house'?" asked I. "No, ma'am, I look for my unekt here every minute, and this is the best place to ask a favor in, for the very sight of the , great crop puts him in good humor, not 80 much so on account of the profit, but be cause the land never bore half so much be fore, and it's owing to his management in dressing and drilling. I came reaping hero to-day on purpose to please him : fur though he says he does not wish me to work in the fields, I know he likes it, and here ho shall see little 'Walter. Do you think he can resist him, ma'am!?" contin ued Dora, leaning over her inthnt cousin, with the grace and fondness of a young Ma donna ; 3‘do you think he can resist him, poor child, so helpless, so harmless, and his own blood too, and so like his father ? No heart could be hard enough to hold out, and lam sure that ho will not. Only" —pursued Dora, relapsing into her girlish tone and attitude, as a cold fear crossed her enthusiastic hope—" Only I'm afraid that Walter will cry. It's strange when one wants anything to behave particularly well, how sure it is to be naughty ; my pets especially. I remember when my Lady Coati , ass came on purpose to see our white pea cock, that we got as a present from India, the obstinate bird ran away behind a bean stack, and would not spread his train, to show the de r ad white spots on his glossy white feather all we could do. Her lady ship was quite angry. And my red and yellow Nerve of Peru, which used to blow at four in the afternoon, as regular as the clock struck, was not open at five the oth er day when dear Miss Julia canto to paint it, though the sun was shining as , bright as it does now. If Walter - should scream and cry, for my uncle does sometimes look so stern-L--and then it's Saturday, and he has such a beard ! If the child should be frightened. Be sure, Walter, that you don't cry !" said Dora in grout alatn. "Gan-pupa's fowers !" replied the smil ing boy hulling up his hat; and his young protectress was comforted. At this 'num.:mt the family. was heard whistling to his dog, in a neighboring field; and fearful that my presence might injure the cause, i departed, tuy thoughts full of the noble little girl and her generous pur pose. I had promised to call the next after noon, to learn her success; and passing the harvest field on my way, I found a group assembled there which instantly dissipated my anxiety. Ou the very spot where we had parted, I saw the good farmer himself, in his Sunday clothes, tossing little Walter in the air; tie child laughing and scream ing with delight, and hie grandfather ap parently quite as much delighted himself; a pale, slender young woman, in deep mourning, stood lookiug at their gambols, with an air of intense thankfulness; and Dora, the cause cud the sharer of all this happiness, was ,loitering behind, playing with the flowers in Walter's hat which she was holding in liar hand. Catching my eye, the sweet girl came to me instantly. "I see how it is, my dear Dora, and I give you joy, from the bottom of my heart. Little Walter behaved well, then ?" "Oh, ho behaved like an angel." "Did ho say Gum-papa's fowers !" "Nobody spoke a word. The moment the child took off his hat and looked up, the truth seemed to flallt on my Uncle, and to melt his heart at oWee; the boy is so like his father. Ile knew hint instantly, and caught him up in his arms and hugged him, just us ho is hugging him now." • "And the beard, Dora "Why, that seemed to take the child's fancy; he put up his little hand and strok ed it, and laughed in his grandfather's face, and flung his chubby arms around his nook, and held out his sweet mouth to be kissed; and oh 1 my uncle did kiss him. I thought ho never would have done it; and then ho sat down on a wheat-sheaf, and cried, and I cried too. Very strange that one should cry fOr happiness !" added Do ra, as some large drops fell on the rustic wreath which sho was adjusting around Walter's hat. "Very strange," repeated she, looking with a bright smile, and brush ing away the tears from her rosy cheeks, with a bunch of corn flowers, "very strange that I should cry. when I am the happiest creature alive; for Mary add Walter are to live with us; and my dear uncle, itistaad of being angry with me, says that he loves me better than ever. How very strange it is," said Dora, as the tears poured down faster and faster, "that I should be so fool ish as to cry." DON'T Mt (uiurV Or IT..—..NoVer laugh at any one who does not drawl as well as you do. They way know a great deal more than you. They probably are bet. ter far tu'their parents ur little brothers and sisters. Treat theta kindly. Ron't look at their clothes and-then tit yeast. se :if to say: "See how nice lam clreseed." QUIVITION 10a DIUIATIgo.-4f the city way was composed or real ore tn, how massy chasm would It make at t gin cent. a maid. , - A Point or Space. BY ELHIU BURBIT, TUB LEARNKD BLACK- The diameter of the Earth's orbit is, as it were. the pocket-rule of the astronomer, with which he meaanres distances which the mind can no more grasp, than infinity. This star measure is one hundred and ninety millions of miles in length. This the astronomer lays down on the floor of heaven. and drawing lines from its ex tremities to the nearest fixed star, or centauri, he finds the angle thus subtended by this base line to be not quite one sec ' ond. By the simple Rule of Three he then arrives at the fact that the nearest fixed star is 21,000,000.000000. From another simple calculation it hol lows, that in the space around our solar system devoid of stare, there is room in one dimension, or one straight line, for 11,000 solar systems ; in two dimensions, or in one plane, there is room for 130 millions of solar systems; and in actual sidereal space of three dimensions, there is room fur 1,500,000,000,000 of solar systems the size of our own. Nay, good farmer, do not look so unbe lievingly. Your boy need not graduate front the district school to prove all this.•— One and a half million million of solar systems, as large as ours, might be set in the space which divides between it and its nearest neighbor. And if we might us. some the aggregate population of our so lar system to be 20,000,000,90 . 0,. then there would be room enough lin thirty thousand trillions of human beings to live, love, and labor in the worlds that might be planted in this same starless void. • Nay, good man of the tow frock, hold on a moment longer. 'One sun is but a dull,Jiszy speck of light in the great milky way ; And Dr. Herschel says he has die covered fifty thousand just such suns in that highway of worlds, in a space appa rently a yard in breadth, and six in length. Think of that a moment, mid then that ' two of them all are probably nearer each other than twenty billions of miles; and then, that the starless space between their solar systems might contain 1,31,10,000, 7 1 000,000 of similar systems! Multiply these spares and these systems by a hue dred millions, and you will have rum• bered the worlds that a powerful glass will open to your view from one point of space. Again multiply these systems by twen ty thousand milliner, and you will have three billion trillions of human beings who might dwell in peace and unity in that point of spare which Herschel'e glass would disclose to your vision. Aid you ask despairingly, What is mu ? Wu will tell you what 'he is in one respect : the Creator of all these worlds is his Clod. Eastern Anecdote. AS a woman was walking, a man looked at her and hollowed her. "Why do you hollow me ?" she ask- "Because I have fallen in love with you," he reviled. "Why are you in love with me r said she, "My sister is much handsomer ; she is coining after me. Go and make love to her." The man turned back and saw a woman with an ugly face. Being much disideas ed he turned to the tirst one and said, ••IVhy do you tell me a falsehood?" "Neither do you speak the truth," re plied she, "for if you were in love with me, why did you leave me to look upon my sister ?" There is much' good sense in this re mark, says an exchange, and if more girls were as sensible as this, there would be less inconsistency. IRISH IVIT.-A couple of Irishmen, who had not lung been in this country, met at an inn and called for dinner. As it so happened, there was a dish of home raddish grated for dinner. Pat thinking it was something to be eaten with a spoon, put a large spoonful into his mouth. The tears immediately filled his eyes and roll ed down his cheeks. hits companion saw it, and said : "Pat, what is the matter 1" “I was thinking of my poor father, that was hanged in Swatu Ireland, answered Pat.” But Jemmy soon filled his mouth with the same, and as the terigushed from his eyes also, Pat says: **What is the matter---what has happened to ye 1" "Alt !" says Jemmy, .1 was just think ing what a pity it is that you ware not hanged when your father was." • Tits YouNo 'Wurs'it RES , PONSE ..Why art thou sail, myslove, t o -day what grief is frowning o'er thy heart ? Why dust thou droop and turn away, and why do tears unbidden start? When first I weed thee in thine isle, thy Erin, emer. ald of the deep—l saw thee, sweetest, only smile, nor even thought that thou could'st weep. The sun of summer lights the earth, the zephyni kiss is on thy cheek, all nature calls thee back to mirth, then be not, prythee, love, so weak. While thus I spoke, my bosom's queen, one deep, fond glance upon me stealing, exclaimed, "Mylove, you mustibe green. It's onions, sure, I'm after pealing." Bus SPAKE IT Our.—One of the 11011- ton papers has the following : At the Old Ladies South Sewing Circle, last Fri day evening, the members got to talking about temperance, the Maine Liquor Law, &c. Said Mrs. Fidget. "For nine mortal years I slept with a 'barrel of bran dy—now, thanks to Gough and Providence, 1 sleep mith a num!" Well," said Auut Boles, after all, for my part, I'd rath er sleep with a barrel of brandy. than lie alone these cold winter nights." Mrs. Fidget frowned. JOHN, stop your crying," said • n en raged 'father to his son, who kept up an intolerable "yell" for the past five minutes. ufitop I my, do you hear 1" again repeated the father after a few minutes, the boy still crying. , don't suppose I choke offin simiute, , do you," chimed in the hopeful urchin. \ • • , Is a roan a bit the Better, Is a mans bit the better Fur his richest golden pins, For his acres and his palace, II his utmost heart is callous, Is a man abit the better? • And if the man's no bit the better For his coffers and his mines, For his "purple and fine linen." For his vineyard and his sines, Why do thousands bow the hag, And cringe in mean servility, If the man's no bit the better I Is a man a bit the worse For a lowly dress drags 1 Though he owns no lordly rental, If his heart is kind end gentle, Is a men a bit the worse And if the man's no hit the worse • For ■ poor and lowly stand ; For an ever empty pocket, And a brawny working hand. Why do thousands pass him by With a cold and scornful eye If the man's no bit the worm I Ogrituttural. Cabbages . as a Wield Crop for Block. 'Tots, to an American farmer, with nev4 er thought perhaps of growing over a _lion tired a year, which were carefully pre. served for table use, will sound like_some new and strange aloctine. Yet such his been for years the practice of many excellent farmers- in -England,- 'Scotland, illeigiu - nr, and -Holland. The advantages. claimed, and as we think justly, in favor of. the practice, are, the immense amount of food that can be grown upon an acrq—the ease which it can be cultivated, saved and fed in winter—its succulent qualities,-which render it fully equal to summer pasturage for !Mich cows or suckling its nutritive qualities haiibeen amply proven by analysis alai practice. The following statement of its nutritive value, is front the. Mark Lane Express:— Comparative Nutritive Value of an a cre of Cabbage ,toith other Crops.--The cabbage has. lately been chemically exam ined. in consequence of the failure of the potato, with a view to its substitution for that root. it is found to be ciler in plus• deforming mutter than any erep toegrout. It rout4los more fibrin or gluten,,uf which substance the muscles aro Made, and hence is richer in the material mem; ual to the health; growth, and strength of an animal ; wheat contains about 12 per cent. of it.; beans ; 25 per cent.; but dried cabbage contains Irvin 30 to •10 per cent. of this all-important material, of which the principal mass of the animal structure is -Ai acre i of good land will produce 40 tons of cabbage ; °name of 20 tons of drum-head cabbage witl ell 1,500 lbs, of gluten ; one acre of Sweeties turnips will produce about 30 tone, which will yield 1,- 000 Iha. of gluten ; one acre of 25 bushels of beans, will yield 400 lbs. of gluten ; one acre of 25 bushels of wheat will yield 200 lbs. of gluten ; one acre of 12 lons of po tatoes, will yield 550 lbs. of gluten. Such is the variation in our general crops, as to the amount of this gluten, this special kind of nourishment, this muscle sustaining principle, which accounts for the prefer ence by experienced farmers to the cab bage as food, for stock and toilet' cows, al. though the crop impoverishes the land, which requires much manure to restore it to former fertility." • The last part of the statement we do not fully ag en with ; for wedo not believe a crop of cabbage is any more exhausting to the soil, althouglrit is of the manure, than any otherheavy crop of quick grow ing vegetatiOn. True, the , 'land must be rich, or it will not grow cabbage to any advantage. Its value over Sweeties or English turnips is not only shown in the excess of production, but in the nutritive quality of the food. Ono experienced hunter observed sarcastically in) speaking of the comparative value of the two crops, that if he had an overplus of hay which he was anxious to have his cattle consume, it would be desirable to feed turnips, just to encourage, not to satisfy the appetite.— This was rather severe upon a crop which • has done so touch to improve English - Husbandry within the last half century.— Valuable as turnip culturo has bean in England, we think the cohere of cabbage may be insole more valuable in this WV try. It flourishes best in a moist rat soil, such as reclaimed swamps ; it is • more hardy than the turnip in its incipient growth ; and at a stage when whole fields of turnips are liable to be swept off by the fly, cabbage plants enough to set air a cre can he effectively protected under a few panes of glass, or a yard or two of gauze in a frame in the garden. But for held culture we would recommend that cabbage seed ehould be planted by the drill machine ,where they are to grow, with a provision of plants in reserve, in case of accident, to transplant from the video to the field. In the early stage of growth the cabbage requires careful cultivation. must:4o which however may be dime with the plow and horse hoe ; as'soon as the leaves expand and shade the ground. weeds • are elrect laity prevented from' growing enough to' injure the crop or' pcdpagato their own seed. This teasel the field in as iine condition for the nett crop: at could be de sir*d. • Some cultiiatOre .grciw' a tiroti of peas upon the same ground thatitrui Itsve a crop of cabbage in the fall. This may be done if the land tis naturally rich, atilt well Willed every year' Withntaftute; 'Mak deeply plowed; particularly 'in the hill. so as to give The frost an 'opportunity to grind doirn all lumps into a loose friable mass. if thO 'land has a clay fotindittlim it Most be subsoile,d and so' graded that surface water cannot stand, as that is sure death to a young cabbage plant. The necessity ofileeir all may be seen by an examination of the long fibieue roots, which penetrate to egret a depth when un obstructed. Any rich compost Or wellrot • ted - manure is good for cabbage ; coarse or unfermented manure is not good. Ached.' ...Omer of Paris, bone dust, poudelt444 TWO DOLLAR% Pai ANIZION, I NUMBER 9. a little salt will be found beneficial. Ow any is excellent. Morin/for ffinter.—Select seine dry piece of ground from which the water drains readily, and having carted the crop convenient, one hand seises the roots, while another strips offs few of the lower leaves, and doubles the others around the head, and holds it upon the ground, while the other hand lays on dirt enough tokeep it in place. A,fterwards ge over and earth up the rows all into smooth straight ridges that will shed the rains into the furrow., which in their turn will carry off all the water that falls. Three or four inches of earth will preserve them from frost quite effectually. Unheaded Calkages.—There Ire Often many ot• these-when -the crop le- gathered at the approach of winter. climmonly thrown away: sit uselety. 'l'hey may be rendered fine for spring use by tvansplant ! log !heal in a dole double row, and" then covering them with boards or slabs like the steep roofofg house, with an addition al coating of a' lbw incites of earth. They should then be properly ventilated. Hy next spring a large portion of them will be found wall headed and delicately bleach- dipplicution.—We hope none of our readers are so like the kind mentioned under the last head, as to prevent then Iron applying, the advice of this article to their immediate 'use—because Now is-the 77me to Sow cabbage Seed. exactly this particular month in all parts of this country where we shove our Plow. because this is a great country, but by now we mean that each man who reads this cabbsge•head article, unless he has sit article of the same kind on his shoulders, or larks the article' entirely, or is very wrongiteahed, shall take the matter into his head now, and consider the propriety of adopting the advice, of raising cabbages as a field ilo.p...—{__77a A Geerfretn-the German. The hollowing beautifully manzas are a literal translation from tit% German, and embody it truthful sentiment ato deflostely expressed that we commend them to the hearts of our numerous readers,' . Let each 'one make the language hie own...and see if the response of the poet's heart finds not an echo in hisintoost'soal : heart,.[ hit the answer - - How sreLorels marvels wthi4ht? "Two hearist to-one teofietestitegl . ' . Two spirits to one thought. l • "And tell me how hive etimeth.l" "It corgi--stiesought—ensent l" 0 And tell sue how love goeth 1" •• That war hot kw which mei r" Tuts Cow 'marl.—*lu the fortruiteof Brazil there is a re : smokable tree, Aimed . ..the cow tree;' because it exudes )pice when tapped, which answers the puiptnie ' of milk lo tlu, itillabitarsts. Derintaeinti. al months Of tlit, year, when no rain rans, and its branches are dried up, If the train!: le tapped, this sweet and nutritiouir' milk,‘ exudes. Thu flow is most abundant at sunrise, like that of our sugar mapleti. The natives receive the milk in large yes aels ; it soon grows yellow like cream,. acid thickens on the surface. &me drink if plentifully under the tree. It ii . Useti' coffee in place of cow's Milk.' The. ties is very large, and is used In A PUZIAD O'Flagher— ty undertook to tell how many were at the party. "The two Cogane was tine, toe,' self tau two, Mike Finn wu three,and —and—who the devil was four t • et in see (counting his fingers)—lhe4roo guns was one, Mike, Finn was two nisself was three. and—bedatl! there ves-four of us. but Saint Patrick, couldn't tell Ake name of, the other. Now We meaell that has it : Mike Finn was one, the Iwo Cro gans was two, ineulf was three r and-.and, by my sowl, I think there was but three of us, after all. . "My ion, what did you bite your broth er fort Now I shall have to whip you. Don't you remember the *Golden Hotel taught you t If you wouldn't like n) have. your brother bite you, you shouldn't bite him." ' ~.110. mother i get oUt with your !hitt piit'.• Remember the .Golden Rule' your self. If you wouldn't like me- to liek you, 'tain't right for you to Hauler Spread the glad tidings over mountain and dalei Old winter ie gone, with his sleet and his hail ; and the birds ere sing-, ing so merry a tune, ono would fancy we were in the midst of June i The Columbus Statesman • says dist Catharine Scholey..aged .80. born hi Pick away county. Ohio. is the largest woman living—she weighs 011 lbe., and wnow exhibited to the .euriutis of" thin city. Happiness is promised not, to the leagn ed. but to the gout!. Practice Sawa groin the principle ;.for as a man thinks, SG Will he act. • Answers to euigomo in last ntiroloor.--4 7 1en. Antonio Lopes du Santa Anna."--..AlosanOor, King of ktocedon," Anoweris to Anograms.—Oprlonoon, Proton's. Itoleigh, Waynesboro, Bearthaown, Lockport, till start blot tool Harrodsburg. Ammer, to Passzloc—"Bottl Fir s .Slllr Sea Iktitnert' • • Enigma. . , I can composed of nineteen Whim. My 1 7 115 14'16 is itturof the Unltsd My 2L9 26' 6is a county in Pennsylsaminit, , , My ,4$ 17 14,186 is a causay in Missinnippi.,.. My 414 to 152 ism lake itt Ramis. , My stul9 is a river in Stepts. My * 6 2 id 10 cdunly in M. himy. y 714617 14 is e - tine n in Moine. ' y 8 21519 7 11 10 14 7is a river in 801Mit Kinetics. ' My 95218 is a range of maintains in Elsellse:.l . My 10 2 5 14 is • Oyer In 6collead. My 11 13 8 7 io s city in 5, Atpea a. My 10 18 16 2 Ise gull hi Buena. My 13 1419 7 11 inn river in ideteden. My 14 . 1915 ki 414 is river in ask My .15 18 11 in '7 is • cepa, ie Virgibillo • ,•. My 16 111 12 7 11' is a MAP d msaBY3nk ils America • My 17 111 10 1.1111 it insinsy ica_thl 6l l l 4; My 111 4 15 8 14 144 *lung 111 My 19 ; 1714 Is* !twin Rossi..".. My iMolip a." • 41144041•11 AllmilM11'0111.“ wir was WWI* Ms les was.- U44040111.`..44k
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers