BY D. A. & C. H. BUEHLER.
VOLUME XXIII
Lead a Hand !
Working 'mid the world's commotion,
Fighting up life's thorny road,
Patriots, with a high devotion,
Struggle in the cause of God.
And tow that band is praying—
All their griefs before us laying—
And to outbid band is saying,
"Brethren! lend a hand !
Men of freedom ! men or daring !
Bless'd with health end strong in youth.
Come. with all your noble hearing,
Fight the battle-fight of truth.
Former friends reject and slight us,
Friends and men resist and spite us,
Earth and hell combine to fight us—
Heroes ! lend a bend !‘
Men of wealth, and men of station,
Vice has had our aid too lung ;
Come, then—from their degradation
Help to raise the wretched throng.
Of a doom of wo unthinking,
From a poison cup they're drinking—
In a sea of death they're sinking—
Rich ones ! leud a hand !
Men of genius, high and soaring.
Cease your flights past human ken;
I.snd your mighty aid in pouring
Knowledge round the paths of men.
Round you is a solitude—
Minds with highest powers endued
Perishing for lack of food.
Genius ! lend a hand !
Men of God ! whose noble calling
Has come down from Heaven above,
Crams !our scheming and caballing,
Preach in truth a tleviour'a love.
While but tildes you're descryii g.
Millions (or the truth are sighing,
And the second death are dying,
Christiana! lend a hand!
Men of ewer, mir.d and station,
Sow the seed, and strike the blow ;
Rise in honest indignation,
Rise to fight the common foe.
There's a field for all your working--
Vice is reigning, sin is lurking ;
Patriots ! lend a hand !"
VIE TRAVELED WHISPER.
"I'll tell the tale as 'twas told to me."
"I do not like to say anything about
• it," whispered Mrs. Sawyer to her nez t
door neighbor, Mrs. Ashton, "but they do
say that Miss Bates, our new music teach
er, is no better than she should be. I
don't think that I shall send Anna Maria
or Sarah Jane. True, she comes highly
recommended, but Mrs. Goodenough,
whose daughter went to school last year,
within twenty miles of Miss Bates' fath
er's, tells me that her daughter heard from
one of her schoolmates, a slight whisper to
Miss Butes' disadvantage ; and people are
best known at home, know."
Mrs. Ashton held tiTnter gloved hands
in wonder and approval of this sentiment,
and then hastened way on her round of
morning calls, all the wiser for her visit to
Mrs. Sawyers.
"I ant delighted to see you," cried Mrs.
Ashton, half breathless from fast walking.
"How are you and your charming daugh
ters, Melissa Amu and Julia? The latter
are at school, 1 dare say. By the way,
Mrs. Willis, I have been gratzly shocked
this morning. I never should have dream
ed of such a thing, as Mrs. Sawyer has
been whispering to me. I can hardly be
lieve it now. But I must beg of you not
to say a word about it to any soul living.
I am shocked to think such a thing could
have happened ! Pray dont' mention it
from me on any consideration but they du
say that Miss Bates, the new music teach
er, has a very bad character indeed, at
home. Mrs. Sawyer has it on unques
tionable authority, and has declined the
idea of.sending her slaughters on that ac
,count. But she is young and pretty, poor
•thingland I am sorry for her, and wouldn't
injure her for anything in the world !"
Mrs. Willis laid down her work with
Kmosternation pictured in her face ; and the
.two'ladics whispered and nodded siguift
•cantly, for the next two hours.
At the and of that time Mrs. Willis re
membered that she had a host of calls to
make, and tying on her bonnet, the two
ladies want out together.
Before night, the whisper that Mrs.
Sawyer had thoughtlessly echoed from the
tongue of a school girl, travelled all through
the village, and ten miles into the country,
. and there was a prospect of its travelling
•on, as far as the Academy of B— was
,known, and blighting in every family,
where it was carried, the fair fame of a pale
faeed, sweetyoung creature, who bent with
patient assiduity over her task, unconscious
that a breath more fatal than the sinition of
;the desert had passed over her character.
If there is not deliberate cruelty in thus
murdering the reputation and destroying
:the influence of epee, and that other a
Adroit - ger, timid and sensitive as the Mimosa
:which shrinks from the slightest touch,
doll me itewhat erneltreonsists 1 And yet
;itwas all the work de whisper; a thought
peas and unmeaning whisper. Miss Bates'
,reputation was reestablished. when she
learned, after weeks of suffering, the eug
_gerated reports every where itt circulation
in regard. to her, and brought testimonials
of herinnooenee, from her native town,
.andfrowthe first persons in other (tom-
Muttities,otith whom she (lanced to be bo,
ifom acquainted; it was ro-establishod when
,she had edged long _in the Acadamy at.
It— and lived doian the aspersions so
.arnellyesat upon her.
Butiher MUM is not ,
an isolated
ldany .oad many, a reputotion, has boon
winked by busy bodies, who have little
Ito do at home, and go abroad-for employ-
Ment; who love to gossip over their neigh-'
.hoc's affairs and help on, with railroad
speed, lAe7wtauded whisper,
Woman's Wit and Woman's Will.
BF MRS. FRANCES D. GAGE
"Don't you know Josh Bell I I thought
every body knew him in this country."
"Why I What about him I Was he
anything peculiar T"
"Yes, he and his wife too, were what
we call specimens ; both rare of their kind.
I'll tell you ; Josh was just four feet less
in length than a ten foot white-oak saw
log. I suppose that a poplar one of the
same length would have been as much
longer; but some how there seems to be
a striking aptness in comparing Josh to a
white-oak ; for he was about a solid foot
through, and quite as straight awl unbend
ing. His face was as round as an old
fashioned dinner plate, such as we used
when we ate our pork and cabbage, apple
sauce and pie, all from one dish ; particu
larly when his pillows or jetty whiskers
encircled his ample chin, and met his mon•
atrous head-gear of unweildly hair of the
same color, which always stood "always
for Sunday;" and his mouth—for Josh
bad a mouth, yes he had, and a nose too,
and eyes that exactly corresponded with
his hair and whiskers and made as fine a
bold relief as ever graced a man's face—
all speaking as plain as nose, eyes and
mouth could speak, that there was a good,
kind, generous, loving heart down below
the drift and flood-wood which a rude,
• rough state of society had left in deposit
above.' Well, Josh was not raised upon
sweet : meats ; and the outward of the man
was about as rough and prickly as a chest
nut burr, dint covered a rich kernel ; hut
it took a hard frost of adversity, or trouble
of some sort, to shake it out.—Those who
attempted to get at it by force, generally
got their fingers pricked for their pains.—
Josh was brought up in the back woods
—was a keelboat man on the small river,
in the days when men put their shoulders
to the setting pole, and worked up the
stream which heads down at the rate of
four miles per day. Ile knew how to
track wolves and hunt panthers, was great
at a squirrel hunt, at a military training,
and, consequently, was a great hand to
bluster and swear, and sure to say, upon
all occasions, something directly contrary
to the inner feelings of his heart. For in
stance, when die widow's boy come bide
, footed one cold November morning to
borrow his wheelbarrow, Josh frightened
him half out of his wits, by swearing out :
"My wheelbarrow, ha, to go and get
wood. Yes, take it, you sorry little vag
abond ; and mind you, put it right where
you got it, and see it comes back, or I'll
take your ears off as short as horses'."
The boy dodged into the wood-house,
and Josh turned to his mother widi a
rough—
" Mother, get that boy a pair of shoes ;
why hasn't it been seen to before this ?
Tom, get up the horses as soon as you're
done breakfast, and get the widow Green 1
wood enough to last her till Spring before
you turn thorn out ; do you hear, you ras
cal I"
In fact Josh had seemingly two distinct
natures—as distinct as oil and alkali; and
the only trouble there was
,about them
was, "that like the old woman's soap,
they would come amid go"— would not stay
mixed at all, or they might have made is
soft, pleasant compound. We have all
seen such folks, and heard neighbors say.
as they did of him—" That he was a real
good-hearted fellow."
Then Josh did, too, what we have seen
other men of his sort do; fell in love with
the prettiest, smallest little full blown rose
in the settlement—with eyes as blue as the
violets that blossomed under the current
bushes by the path that led to her father's
door; and hair as soft and beautiful as the
"Lint white locks of Burns' Lassie." The
very extreme opposite of Josh Bell was
the modest Mary Morel ; and as a proof of
the saying that "extremes meet," Mary
fell in love with him, and they were mar
ried ; and generally they got along pretty
well; for when Josh stormed, Mary rayed
out sunshine; so they usually had tolera
bly pleasant weather. But sometimes the
alkali got rather the better of the oil, and
poor Mary's eyes would grow dim over
the hard coarse feelings of her husband.
It was a curiosity to see the quiet creature
subdue him now and then—once a year
was often enough for her to conquer; and
it took him a good twelvemonth to forget
her power.
One day the baby got hold of a tea-cup
and broke it ; and Josh, RS usual upon such
occasions, stormed as if a thousand dol
lar's worth of property had gone to smash ;
and he gave Mary a regular blowing up,
as the saying is, for her carelessness, and
ended by telling her, •She'd better got
down the looking-glass, her grandmother's
picture," &c., and loudly asserted he
should be broken up by her tee-totally.—
When he stopped to take breath she turn
ed her soil dreamy eyes upon hint with a
determined look, saying firmly ;
"Mr. Bell, I shall give the children just
what I think proper, to play with, and
shall not ask your advice at all in the
matter." He dropped his.fierce look as
suddenly as if a thunder-bolt had unnerved
him.
"Faith Mary," said he, "so you may ;"
and off ho went heartily ashamed of his
folly.
"Josh was a blacksmith, and lived down
at the crws•roads, about a mile from the
village."
"Where?"
**That's for you to find out; all that I
shall tell you is that they lived on a di
rest line of one of the underground rail
roads, about ten miles from a river that
makes a dividing line betweSredom
and Slavery; and it was said owned"
some Stock in some of those liberty-loving
companies that infest some places, whose
speculators meddle more in Virginia bonds
than war agreeable to the peculiar 'friends
of the "peculiar institution."
But filial is neither here net there; to
my story. ' You kuow Josh lived in a'
good substantial brick house, u I was say
ing, just , out of the villrge. His house,
like most of the houses out West, had a
front door is the centre, opening into the
hall, which hall had a door on each side—
GETTYSBURG, PA. FRU/AY EVENING, JUNEIB,
one opening into the parlor, and the other
into the family dining-rooM or sitting-rnoM. -
There was a kitchen back of the sitting
room, and a back door to the parlor, that
opened out into the door-yard and garden;
and this door-yard and back parlor door,
and kitchen, were reached by the back
gate, leading from the main branches of
the cross road.
You will think me very particular, but
never mind. When a thing is done, it is
beet to know how 4it is done, as we don't
hold to witchcraft these days.
Mary Bell, sweet, good Mary Bell—
every body knew just how gooy she was
—was standing in her kitchen one frosty,
cold November night, making a sponge for
the morrow's baking, just before going to
bed, when she was startled by a low,
muffled rap on the window, from behind
her. But she had heard that rap before,
and knew full well it was a rapping of spir
its, (not spirit rappings) of spirits strug.
gling for God's highest, holiest boon—lib
erty. So she shook the dour from her
hands and quietly opened the door.
"Mrs. Bell," said a low, hurried voice,
"here is more work for us—three runaway
women, and their owners are not a mile
behind them, but we must try. The mas
ters Lave their dogs. One of our friends
had outrode them, to tell us that they are
now scenting all around Mr.—'s house,
barn and smoke-house ; and they will try
round you next. What shall we do 2"
"Where arb they ?" asked Mary.
"Down at the cross roads. We brought
them to —last night; but they have no
place to secrete them. Now, if we could
get them up here, without the dogs getung
on the track, we might foil them, by put
ting them tart the wrong road."
Mary put her hand over her mouth and
studied a minute. "I have it," said she—
" There are thirty yards of sheeting on the
grass, bleaching, make a railway for them
to walk or' by laying one piece down be
fore the other, and so on : it won't take
long, and the dogs can't track their feet
into my bleaching tub. But, Thomas,
where shall I put them ? Oh, is it not
dreadful that we must do such things !"
"It is horrible, but the idea of yours, of
the cloth, is well—just the thing. We've
no time to lose, and the poor things are
shivering."
"Bring them right to our parlor stove.—
If they track them, and get out a warrant,
and search the house even, I think I can
hide them. Don't let Mr. Bell know, and
I think 1 can fix it."
"You' can if anybody, but I'm afraid
we're outdone this thne, said the outdoor
speaker; and disappeared to carry out
Mary's plan of laying down the cloth for
the slaves to walk on.
In less than ten minutes, they were all
at the door, for the crossing was close by.
Poor, weary, shivering, frightened crea
tures ; a mother, yes, a mother and lier
two girls—the tanner a light mulatto,
small, slender, and apparently not ever
thirty years old—the eldest girl still whiter
than her parent, with jetty hair, and spark
ling eyes, stately as a queen, and about
fifteen. The youngest still whiter, with
eyes entirely blue, and hair only dark
brown, and wavy and beautiful. She was
about twelve, and might pass anywhere
for a white girl—Mr white she surely was,
though there was some distinctive [narks
of her race about her.
"Come in here," said Mary in a whis
per ; "my parlor, Thomas, is the only
place where some one does not sleep; and
it is less apt to be disturbed than any oth
er room iu the house. Come in, girls,
out of the cold."
"I will let you know if there be any,
danger," said Thomas• hurriedly, and dis
appeared ; and the women entered that
neat parlor.
"Oh, God !" said the mother, clasping
her hands in agony, as she threw herself
into a chair, "we shall be caught and ta
ken back, we shall, I know we shall, for
I heard the yell of one of master's hounds
this minute. Oh, mistress, I'd rather die,
twice told ; and my poor girls—nay poor
girls ! Georgia, don't be crying so, child ;
you must not sob when you cry, or they
may be heard when they want to hide us,
you cannot stop sobbing, and then we'll
get caught again. Do you think you can
hide us ?"—and the wretched creature,
with a look of despair, and a choked voice,
sunk. to a hoarse whisper.
"I'll do my boat," said Mary, with a
voice equally low and husky. "You must
be quiet ; I will leave you a minute now.
Do not cough, or make a bit of noise."
So saying, Mary slipped noiselessly in
to the kitchen, and from thence into the
sitting room. Our friend Josh was deep
ly engaged with his Tribune—his feet
somewhat higher than his head, tilted back.
in his good old armed chair, while his
whole appearance betokened that he was
quite at ease, bodily and mentally. Though
the grey hair showed that he was getting
along on the wrong side of fifty, and his
set lips, and certain indescribable lines
about hie forehead, showed that-his spirit
was still as boisterous as it was when hit
tle Sully broke the tea-cup; and Mary
.looked as if she could say, "I will," quite
as firmly as she could twenty years be
fore.
"They are right upon us," said Thom
as. "Bill Ryon led them on the trail, and
they have been to the Squire's and got out
a warrant , for Bill swears that Uncle Josh
would carry the , women upon his back, if
it was'needful, from the cross roads to the
house. They will be here in less than
ten minutes, Bill Ryon and Sam Titus are
watching somewhere now, out back here.
They think they are very sly but we have
got the start of them. But God only
ticiwi?, how it will' end. We can't get the
girls away now, if we wanted to."
"What shall we dot Give up without
a struggle I No, no, no l Go in and talk
to Mr. Bell. I will try what, woman's
wactin do. God help me, but this is a
dreadful moment.
All this was said in a whisper, in the
kitchen. Thorny; went into the sittiul
room, for he dared not leave the hodee Wit
ha should excite suspicion mill fur,ther.—
Mary slipped into the parlor, throtigh' the
hall, examined the curtains to see if' they
were closed tuo tight to lyt out the light of
her dim ca :did, set it under the table lot.
4, FEA t RLEBB AND FREE."
fear, and then with hurried, yet determin
ed action s commencing operations. There
was a best bed in , the room, hung round
with white dimity curtains, as white as
snow, and a countrepane and pillows of
the same hue. The feather bed was of
ample dimensions, and made up so as to
reach almost to the top of Mary 'ahead.
"Your master," said Mary, b e
here immediately. I will save you if I
can. Get on this straw bed, each of you,
side by side—there, straighten out and lie
as still as if you were dead. Now lam
going to put this feather bed over you and
make it so smooth as if nothing was below ;
and perhaps we can cheat them if you are
quiet, don't say gne word." And Mary
threw the feather bed o'er them, patted it
down to its usual height, threw on the
spread and pillows, and: the white pyra
mid lay sheltered beneath the snowy folds
of that dimity curtain, as still and as nat
ural as if three women, born in the image
of the Maker—three pasting fugitives, fly
ing from their tyrant master, lay not be
neath, with hearts throhbing wildly and
tumultuously with fear and despair.
"As you value your"freedom, and hate
slavery, be quiet 1" said Mary, as she end
ed her work.
"We will, missus," . answoreed back
that wretched mother.
Mary stepped noiselessly back to the
sitting room just as the tramp of the feet
was heard at the front door. Then came a
knock. Mary and Thomas exchanged
glances, while Uncle - Josh, wondering
who the devil it was comming at that time
of night" wont to the door. There, to his
utter dismay, stood a dozen men, and fore
most among them the constable with his
warrant. Their errand , was soon told
Uncle Josh was in a perfect frenzy of pas
sion—he swore, lie raved, and squaring
himself in his owu door, he vdwed that he
would not have hie house ransacked by
such a set of blackguards.
"I told you," said Bill Ryon, with a
wink, "'hut we would find the slaves
here."
"And I tell you, you Ire a lying scoun
drel," said Uncle Josh. "You lazy, loaf-
ing vngabond, you'd sell your soul for a
dram of whiskey ! Yottwhite-livered ex
cuse for a —;" hut we will skip over
all the wrath and profanity, as it does not
suit our pen.
• "Father," said Mary, coming to the door,
pale as her own white cOpe. and grasping
his arm, "don't swear soi Do let the men
conic in, and search, if they wish to.—
Surely, it won't do harks, you know, i(
their people are not heti."
"Yes, but it can do harm. I'm not go
ing to be trod upon by sloyeholders ;
and I'll see them all---*befor6 - they shall
darken my doors, they.shan't."
"dlnd sat,' they :shale said Mary,
with one of her determined looks, her M-
I tie head, was nut much higher than his el
bow, thrown hack a little, so that she
could not look him right in the face : "1
say they shall. They have the law for it,
and you are violating the law. There is
no need of getting into a scrape when we
can just as well keep out of it. You know
they are strung enough to come in, wheth
er we will or not."
Uncle Josh said not one word, hut stalk
,ed off into the -setting-room, and bounced
down into his big chair, with a weight that
shook the whole house.
Mary quietly closed the door behind
him, turning to the man without, asked, in
a soft, gentle voice, if their people were
men or women.
"Three women, ma'am," said the owner,
rather a dandyish chap, that stood bowing,
hat in hand, to the lady.
"Three women ! .You don't say 1" re
plied Mary. almost gasping with fear for
the result of her experiment. Walk in,
gentlemen, all twelve of you, if it will take
twelve of you, if it will take twelve strong
men to catch three women. Walk in,
your welcome. I pride myself a little on
being a good house-keeper, and don't feel
at all afraid to show you the inside of my
cupboard or bureau drawers. Look into
the parlor first gentlemen. Here, under
' the bed ; in this closet ; shall I lift the
lid of this bandbox I Some fat negro wo
man might be, you know, in the crown of
my white satin bonnet. Come, you don't
half look ! Behind this fire-board—hero's
room for two or three."
The men backed out, and one of them,
clearing his throat, which her bitter yet
quiet irony had well nigh filled replied—
"Of course, Mrs. Bell, you would not
put our black folks in your neat and beau
tiful little parlor. It is not worth while to
be spending our time here," and they all
retired into the hail.
Mary followed them ; but now the worst
was over, sho could hardly lead the way
to the other parts of the hodse. But into
every part she did lead them—up garret,
down cellar, and then to the milk house,
smoke-house oho' barn c very where. 'l' he
hounds that she had shut out of the door
smelt all about, but gibe now howl of rec
ognition, and the`men reluctantly gave • up
the search.
• "I Itope,'Mrs. Bell, you will not take it
amise, our coming here," said the smooth
dandy. writes° women Were worth two
thousand to me: My property, ma'am
you know, and we look upon those who
would entice and steal away our prop arty,
just as you do upon one that would open
your . stable door and take away your
horses and cattle.
These girls of mine needn't have run a
way ; they were always kindly treated—
indeed, I think a good deal of them myself
—1 treated them very kindly, indeed, Mad
am, and I think they have been enticed,
and I think it's just as bad as horse-steal
ing."
"Are they horses, sir t" said Mary.
"Oh, no, ma'am, we don't look upon
them in that light ; no, ma'am, not at all.
WO consider';them beaten', and respect
them as such ma'am."
I kid Mary again, you only take
them then as 'human beings, and put them
in your B,llkblbe.autl , mtlyk sheal horses and
castle ; I understand, Wo. on this - side.
don't entice them, as horeet—we aid them
as men and women,
"(load evening~ Mrs. 1341.--whaln trAolbe
your husband won't think hard of tte—.
chain ; and away went the whole troupe
mortified, humbled and circumvented by
the ready wit of a little woman.
But oh, how mad Uncle Josh was !
Ile sat chewing his qtrid,'while they pass.
ed through his room, as stoically as a
North American Indian would have borne
his torture.
As soon as they were out of hearing.
Miry flew to him, and throwing her arms
around his neck, burst into feels.
What the devil !" said Uncle Joah.
"Come with me, come, come! I know
you will forgive me !"and she pulled him
into the parlor, and again stripping off
the bed exposed the three women.—
..There," said she, triumphantly, laughing
and crying at once, "hav'nt I done it ?
Saved you or somebody else, a broken
head and a lawsuit; and these poor crea•
tures, too, from their master, by saying I
will."
"God bless you, my Mary, you never
said /toile, in the wrong place in your life,"
and Uncle Josh cried too, and the :poor
fugitive's cried, and then, they all laughed,
talked and chattered their thankfulness,
and their admiration of a "Woman's Wit
and Woman's Will." Yes, they all shed
tears of joy, and they fell—those tears—
upon the chains that bound that slave
mother and her daughters, end rusted a
way all the fastening links, and they have
been free ever since.
All this happened some years ago ; but
ever since that night, when Mary says .1
Till, Uncle Josh is as passive as a kit
ten. •
There was no Fugitive Slave Law then.
But, now—why
every four miles square of free ground in
the State. Who but woman should speak
for woman, and the children of the wo
man ? Oh, it is on woman's head that the
master has laid the most dark and blight
ing curse of sfavery.
A Touciirso INCIDENT.—Wa heard
yesterday of oue of the most touching and
sorrowful incidents that, in the whole
course of life, we have been called upon to
record.
An agod mother—a woman of soventy
years—loft her home in the Emerald Isle
some ton weeks ago, to seek the abode of
her children, who are now residents of
Louisville. _,.
After a tedious passage, and the trouble
incident to a long journey, she reached this
city from New Orleans last Monday night,
on board the Alex. Scott, and soon she
was surrounded by her children.
Her son was first to see her, and he has-
tened to inform his sister of their mother's
arrivaL They met--(the mother and
the daughter) in one long embrace, which
only ended us the infirm mother sank with'
excitement to the floor. She had swooned
away in the rapturous enjoyment of behold- .
ing once more a daughter so long lost to
her. She then pronounced a blessing upon
her children, and then fainted away.—
Whenever restored to consciousness, the
sight of her children and the pleasing rec
ollection of their presence, would over
come her with emotions, and again she
would faint in their arms.
Physicians were called to her aid, but
could afford her no relief. For two days
she continued in this condition until worn
out with fatigue and excitement exhausted
nature gave way, and the mother now
"sleeps" in the green earth of her new
made home. how strange how sorrowful
and how touching, are the incidents of life.
—Louisville Democrat.
INDIAN VIINORANCR.-TllO Mobile Her
ald states that within a few days past, a
most savage occurrence has taken place
among a branch of the remnant of the
Choctaw Indians, who still linger in the
upper part of that county, near the route
of the railroad, and between Beaver Mead
ow and Citronelle. It is stated that some
days since, a young Indian, the son of a
somewhat noted character, known as "Old
Bill," was severely stabbed or cut by an
other Indian. in a fight. He was carried
off and placed under the care ofa physician.
•Old Bill," upon hearing of the occurrence,
threatedod that he would shoot and skin
the assailant of his son. Some days alter,
a citizen, in passing through the woods,
came upon the body of an Indian who had
been shot, and which had literally been
stripped of its skin, and this had been
stretched and suspended upon the limbs of
a tree.
It is believed that this dead body is that
of the object of "Ohl Bill's" revenge, and
that the latter, in pursuance of the usages
of his tribe, and the instincts of his savage
nature, had perpetrated this diabolical !nut
der.
LOST HIS Tasms.—A traveller was late
ly riding on horseback where the mud was
so deep that his feet touched the ..lobloll"
on either hand. The struggles of the poor
horse to draw ha feet outof the clay were
of course desperate, and he could not make
more than a mile and a half 'an heure•---
The traveller came up with a man who
'was standing on the fence, without coat or
hat, and with a fence rail was pnriching
the huge minter bed, as though-endeavor'
ing to sound it.
.6 Why, Avhbes the matter 1" exclaiined
the equestrian, "you seem excited and out
of breath. Are you merely amusing your
self 1"
"Bless you, no!" said the man on the
lost my wagon and team some-
where along here. anal was trying to see
whether I could find 'em."
'ho traveller could only 'give the Un
fortunate man hit sympalliY, and . rnneed
etl on.,
EXPORTS OP SPNClE.—Daring hitt week,
the sum of $1,217,9137 in specie was ship.'
pad from New York to,Europp. At this
rats. the exports hit. June will exceed any
math this year. In June. 1851. the ship
ments amounted to nearly six and x twU
millions of dollars.
nnvitutturati.
(From the Clerroanktwn 'Merappk..
ClUT.W)61111111. ,
MR. EDITOR :—The Cat-Worm icon*
of the few insects which infest the Corn
crop, and for which evil no remedy, that
can be entirely relied on, has as vet been
discovered. It has been asserted by some
Farmers, that the Cut-Worm would never
injure Corn were it not planted on sward
land, as they are the progeny of a battle or
insect which could never propagate with
out the assistance of d ung, which is always
found in fields and pasture grounds, and in
a proper condition to afford a lodgemen
for the eggs.' But the feet is, the insect is
by no means nice in the matter of securing
■ deposit for its eggs, and drop, them on
the dung heap or compost pile, and even
in the manure of the yards, and when
these are conveyed in the fields and spread
broad-cast. or deposited in hills or furrows
--no matter whether on award lands or
on those that have been cultivated lor a
succession of years, the fatal progeny is
developed as readily as when the eggs are
deposited in animal excrement dropped
promiscuously in the fields.
The worm which so frequently proves
destructive to the Cabbage, is the same as
the brown ..Cut" or Cern-worm. To
suppose its depredations are confined ex.
elusively to crops growing on sward lands,
is to controvert the whole tenor of practi
cal experience, though I do not doubt that.
from various reasons, their—ravages may
be more fatal cut lands of the latter class.
than
.they ordinarily are on those of the
former. The eggs of this beetle are not
capable of enduring exposure to severe
degrees of cold, unless protected by a cov
ering of soil of manure, and hence the
practice of autumnal plowing (which
brings many of them to the surface) is
thought to have A - beneficial effect, while
the spreading of compost heaps and piles
of old manure so as to expose every part to
the effects of frost during the long winter,
had been recommended as tending.to their .
destruction. •
But the best method. doubtless, would be
to encourage the increase of birds and
toads, instead of destroying and _driving
them from our fields, as is now the case.
'Coatis will accomplish more towards the
preservation of a crop of Corn than all
the philosophers and theorising schoolmen
have done since Corn was first cultivated.
They are an industrious set of beings, and
furnish a night patrol, which fully meets
the necessities of the case, as 'the Cup
worm is a night-walker, and generally per
forms his prcgrinations from hill to hill by
ascending to the surface.
M.A. 14, 1852. A Mouti k omety Co. Fanner.
Remarks by the Edttor V o hiive up=
on two or three occasions alluded in the
7'elegroph to an effective—we may say
an infallible—remedy for the Cut-worm ;
at least it has been tried over and over a
gain, and never faded, when properly ap
plied, in proving an entire protection a
gainst the depredations of these destruc
tive grubs. This is ;imply applying coin
mon Salt to the hills at the time Plaster
is usually applied. mixed with the latter in
the proportion of one part Salt to three of
Plaster. About the same quantity as in
generally used of plastersay a small hand
ful. Care must, however, be taken,
that the mixture does not id any quantity.
come in contact with the young plants. or
the Salt will destroy them. The mixture
should be spread around and near the hills,
which can be done with very little extra
trouble.
Several Farmers of experience, who,
hive given this repeated trials, assure us
that there is no mistake in it; that they
have proved it in various wave, by omit.
ting every other row, as well as separate
portions of a field ; and while the salted
portions escaped entirely the operations of
the Worm, the omitted portions were ser
iously injured. This appears to be so
well authenticated. and is attended with
no risk and no additional expense, and
very little additional labor, that we hope
some of our friends will give it a fair
trial, and communicate thu result for pub
licaton.
Hay Making.
"Many farmers do not consider the
scorching effects of our June and July sun,
and the consequence is, that hay is too
much dried in this country. Unless the
grass be very thick and heavy, it will gen
erally cure sufficiently, when exposed in
the swarth for two days. When shook
or stirred about, it should not remain in this
condition beyond the first day, or it will
thus lose much of its nutritive juices ; nor
should dew or rain be permitted toVI up
on it, unless in cocks. It is better, after
partially drying. to expose it for three or
tour days in this way, and as soon as
properly cured, place it under cover. It is
a good practice to salt, hay- when put up,
as it is thus secured against damage front
occasional greenness ; . and there is no
waste of the salt, as it serves the double
ohject, after curing the hay, of furnishing
salt to the cattle and manure heap.
"Clover should be cut after fully blos
somed and assumed a brownish hue. By
close cutting, more forage is Sectored, and
the clover afterwards springsmp more rap
idly and evenly., Thew snit, unless heavy,
ought never be 4iirred open, but l 'llllnwed
to wilt-on the top... It may then be we
fully turned over, and when thus partially
cured, placed in high slender cocks, and
remain till atifficiantly dry to remove into
the lard. Clover may be housed inn
much greener state by spreading evenly
over it in the mow, from. On ; to.. twelve
quarts of salt. Some add A' bushel, but
his is more than is either necessary fur
the clover, or judicious for the stock con
suming it, as the purgative effects of • too
much salt induce • a wasteful consump
tion of the forage. A mixture of alter
nate layers of dry straw with the glover,
by absorbing its juices, answers the same
purpose, while it meterially improves the
flavor of straw for fodder.
"I wontler,this child don't go to sleep."
said an anxious mother to a female friend.
"I don't," replied tho lady; mini face is so
dirty, that it can't shut its eyes."
TWO DOLLARS RES AXNU4',:
RIMIER 14.
Some jlearts, like evening primrose*,
open most beautifully in the Shadows of
life.
Unseasonable wit is the child of folly.
'Mn whio talk nnu3h etpress but .vetY
littlo:
Beecher says wrongs are engraved cifi
marble, benefits on sand.
Every vicious act weakens a right jndgz
pent, and defiles the life.
Attempt not to fly like an eagle.with the
wings of a wren.
That which derives its only value from'
fancy is not very durable.
Ho that knows useful thing?, and not
he that knows many things is the wise
Nothing can be a real curse to the oval •
but what is made by its own appropriation.
All we perceive, understand, will, loin'
and practice, le, our own but nothing else.
After praying to Glod'not to loid you
into temptation, do not thrOW yourself in- '
"John," inquired a 'dominee' of a hope.
fill pupil; "what is a nailer.l l " •
"A man who makes nails," said John:
"Very lood What is a-tailor
"Ono who makowtails?" •
"0, you stupid fellow," said the dote!.. I
nio,
biting his lips; "s man who takes •
tails ?"
"Yee, master," returned Jobs "if.the '
tailor did not.put tails to the ocate ' he nude,
they would be all jeokeiiiP '
,
An old woman °bawling a 00141,Valig
by her door ! atid.,,appppsipg it in be her
son oned out to, bbn—"BglY, . where
is my cow gono P' The sailor repliedinn
contemptuous manner, "vino to the
for what I know." _
"Well as yon are going, that way,',° aajd
the. lady, "I mob you would just let down
POLTBII FOR Xbrrous.—The education •
necosliiiy to qualify an Arkansas editor
for the duties of his office are the following
, T•irb Mouths practice with a hair trigger
rifle at a togit one hundred paoec distant;
ee]rw swinging a two foot
,bowie-knife, six orseven months experience
in' gouging, ear biting and rough and
tumble at an election. These qualifies& •
tions win enable the possessor of them to
write political articles with impunity. ' I
"Where did you come from mid Smith
to tt beggar of the Into of Wight,
"Front the Devil i t, '
"What's going on in his country
!'dunk the saute a here,"•• I •
"What's thnt f' t • , •
"The rich taken in pad the poor t lc*
1.. k
' ;Intel 01.4420F,1 1 7,••Al 400.tIlOst
`, wind 10k. a ' 040,14#46m,,th* hekiifltif
owner, and a lively Irishman, „
his hod of bricke, the pa ;
presented it to the loser. '
"Paith Madain," • Said he si he 'did
"if you Was as strong al you are
some, it would not have got away 'fro m
you."
"Which shall I thank you' for fivi,t;_the'
service or the compliment l''' asked tlie
dy etnilingly.
"Troth madani," said Pat ageih'ielushl
ing the brim of what we, once a beaver,
"that lOok of your beaiitihil
me for both."'
Cesar; why 110 you always lava up then
pennies and pMsynnest which yott.s
for pocket change t" Well, I wrill teil Yod,
mass. l'se Oran to try ararbuy place',
in heaven.' "Shawl iymr fool; all-the. ,
wealth in the work!. eottldn'a
there; if so, I would bath Iporchileadifoor
ago." "Well.• dew I'll baympliiha
"Why do you want to buy plamsthort 1"t,
"Casey mass*. Mei libodissidlcium‘good
many years. and 1 awl:lm anziossio airy
wid you foreber."
eiCialtnedCimon'loolAit
-a i
bright as a fresh boots Otlnk' s
got a ca-numeruri that you
hoop , you can't;, no*
How can aye-sighthe rrisiorig'd to"ii min!
what's perfectly blirid I Now tell:quick; ; ,
before you think to tell right."'
give, it up." replied
~the ICl4'lolllli
man. expecting to hear eoninthittil.
from the lad. "I give it up'., haw criiVit,
"Get !din rarr" a hive ortreel:'
"liow so?"
"Kim hell be a'bee.hokteir
Ad Cimon 'dodged out of the dear, entoe:
thing very much like a • briek Arida:o
over hie head.
Hon. John J. Cr4le,o4fa id oriea
some of the Xentueliipsper*#s the !IA
for the ProsWrnicv' ' „
A Pozzzat.—Here is' ioniething worth'
studying. , If' any of, out. roadorti:oki Jobe;
it, and fee l the pout, they itio s 'pqretit,
liberty to do so
4dvice.
W O 'Ws,
F Y
OU©.:.
F 0 ,
BYI3I R
P 'A P '
PAit
I'll'lo
EMltif,llll.
I a of 451gtterl.
My, 16 7 4133'21, ta Cettlat , l,..
My 82 322 !tsar in 'Rump.
My 2 929 11 18 8 40 84 it a tows , BO' tirdle .
• • ' Britain. %i • '
My 30 8 $3.5 is manufactured in Earspe_ 2 ' ,
My 13 . 4 17 24 12 10 lis *WWII irtAialk
My 19 20 14 6 85 is s division in Asia. ,
My 41 20 25 38 45 27 is a town in A r
My 43 28 44 37 is planted , in orchards; &e;
My 411 45 25 is whit everybody has. '
My total is a Strait ofßurope.'
EXIONA.
I am composite! of VS latlata.,
My 1 7 13,14 a kind 04606. • •
My 4 8 16 17 la a river m lruropa 1 ,
t.
My , 6 II 10 Is a nteknatisa t
My A' 111 4 5 fa a *tier in Europe.
My 13 6 tO 0 lathe *Do cis algithwil644o66c
eon. • • Aire) w
my is 14 4 {lris a thins tuna* 0610114 at*"•••••',
Sty 6 16 3 signifies noise.
My total war famous iialktelkilkit:
.p. ,