BY S. B. ROW.
CLEARFIELD, PA., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 17, 1857.
VOL. o.-NO. 43.
Fur the Raftsman's Journal
THE SIWBEAM.
BV JITRRHA SIAT.
The Sunbeam came down on n mission of loro,
To thiscold, dump world of nurs,
I saw it first in the garden walks,
And Iicard it 'ruoug the flowers.
'"I coiae," it sting, "from tLe land above,
The drooping flower to cheer;
Perrhance they will raise their hanging heads,
. V'hen they feel uiy presence here."
As it sang and dr7wfl T saw them raise,
Each languid ind weeping face.
And it kissed them all as on it passed
And beauty was in that place.
Thus, methonght. a sunbeam from kind hearts,
The Eartba drooping one's might save,
Ere they sink to riso again no more,
In dark sorrow's stormy wave.
tray Garden, June. Sift.
T II E QUALITY.
AX AMUSING STOKT.
"I reckon," said old Mrs. Placide, whilst
making her first visit to the old Edgarton cot
tage, "you haint seen many of yorr neighbors
yet V
- "No ma'am," said Laura, "we have been
here so long, and none have been to see ns un
til you. We were beginning to feel like un
welcome intruders. But I suppose they were
much attached to the people who lived here
before us, and dislike seeing strangers in the
place of their old friends."
"Oh no! that ain't it; they was afeard to
come."
Afraid !" said Lanra, surprised ; "afraid
of what ?"
"Well, we have heard you was all quality, if
you was broke, and afeard we would get our
selves in the wrong box. We've soed them
elephants and knows what they is," sho con
tinued nodding her head knowingly.
"Why, 1 did not suppose," said Laura, smi
ling, "that we had anything so formidable in
this quiet little nook, and I am sorry that our
neighbors should make such bug bears of us,
and suppose us wanting in civility to them."
"Oh, we wasn't aminding the civility. The
quality lays that on so thick one minute till
you begin to rub your eyes and wonder who
you is thinks sure you must be the Pope of
Rome's wife j then they push you one side be
fore yon know it, like as if you wasn't fitten to
to tote their puppy dog. But they's sich a
sight o' trouble when folks begin to have any
thing to do with 'em. Now, thar's the Feath
ercords. They lives eight miles off, but the
quality is a sorter restless creeter that's allers
wnderin' about outer their range. Well,they 's
mighty fine, and you see my daughter Betsy
Baker likes fine things, and took to 'em migh
tily. She was powerful anxious for 'em to
come and see her, so one Sunday she seed 'em
all at meetin', and axes 'em to come and take
dinner the next Saturday. Well, they all stood
up thar in the meetin' house and talked a pow
er of dictionary talk about "exceedingly," ard
"exquisitely," an "interchangin' of rural hos
pitality ;" but whether they was a coniin' in or
no, Betsy she couldn't make out. But how
somever, Betsy 'lowed she had better be on
the safe side, so kept up a mighty fixin' all
the week. When Saturday came she had ev
erything as fine as a bride's cake, 'cepting the
dinner. Betsy 'lowed she wouldn't put that
on till she made sure if they was a commin'.
She had been working hard all the morning,
her and tbc niggers, a reddin' up the house
and dressin' up their sleeves. But when the
lercner clock come and no quality.. Betsy
give 'em out, aud they all took oil their Sun
day clothes and wer.t to gittin' every day din
ner. They had to hurry mightily, but it was
ready arter a wl.ile. The hands was workin'
close to the house, so Betsy just hollered to
'cm to come to their dinner. Arter the din
ner was all over, and every thing sot to rights
on' the niggers s t to work, nie and Betsy sot
ilown to cool and sew. 'Bout four o'clock Bar
ney Baker he ctpuc back from the courthouse,
Bays he, "Betsy, did them hired men come in
to dinner ?" "Law," says Betsy, "I was so ta
ken up expecting them Featbercord folks to
dinner that I forgot all about your hirin' Jim
zni Bill Jones to split rails, and bcin' as they's
to far off, I reckon I didn't blow the horn."
"Confound the quality," says Barney, "they's
u'.i just qualified for the luncrtickersylum,and
reckon you will go along with 'em just to be
M ith the quality when they" go," an' he jerked
.down the horn and he blowed a blast you wo'd
fcthought all the stages that ever run was 'ri
ven thar at onst. Jnst then we heard a migh
,ty fuss in the front yard, and when we locked
thar was a fine carriage full o' women, with
.horses hitched up with fishin' seins, a cavortin'
about over the yard ; and one o the puffed up
niggers they had dreesed up like soldgcrs, a
aet tin' on a bench outside the carriage, was
-bounced off like an injin rubber ball. I tho't
the creeter was killed, and run to him, but he
;umpcd right up before me, and made sich a
bow, you never seed the like of it, jest Jike it
was a part of his milishus drill, and says he
"Mrs. Feathercord, Miss Featbercord, Miss
Netty and Miss Angeline Feathercord." By
that time Barney had got the horses quiet,and
says I, "You Mr.Flunkey had better open the
door and leltin them folks out, stidder stand
in' here makin' manners," so he did it. Its
well he told me who they wur, for such a car
go of folks I never did see before. They had
the back o' their heads kivered with artificial
flowers all fixed in little flounces, and little
silk fans in tlxir hands they called sunshades ;
I reckon tbey wa'nt much acquainted with
the sun, or they wouldn't tho't he was a mind
in' purty little things. Then they had floun
ces all over their frock tails, aud all over their
capes they called "talmers ;" and they was be
llounced from the top of their head to the bot
tom of their feet and all the flounces pinted
like windin' sheets only a heap finer.
Betsy had run back as soon as she had got
the first glimpse, cause she had on a mighty
dirty froc'i, but she put a new white satin
shr.wl all over her, and then she looked as fine
as any of 'cm, and axed 'em to walk in and
take seats, and set down and be seated. Arter
a while she told 'em she was a lookin' for 'em
all mornin'. "Oh," said old Mis. Feathercord
"we were engaged to be here to dinner ; and
we never dine before four, and It wants some
minutes to that now," takin' out her fine gold
watch, though the clock was starin' right afore
her. Betsy looked as blank as if she had run
for sheriff and didn't get a vote. But she run
right to the kitchen, and the way she ballow'd
up Dilce, and Alice, and Dina, and the whole
tuckin of 'cm from the tater patch, and the
wash tub, and ironin' board, and all quarters
wa'nt slow.
Soon as I got the quality all settled I went
out to help poor Betsy. I was sorry for her.
Sich a sight as the kitchen was ! Thar was
half-picked turkeys, half picked chickens, ev
ery body running round all sides at onct.
Says I, "Betsy, honey, do let me help you."
Says Betsy, "Law, mar, what ken you do 1
Do pray go long in the house and talk to them
ladies, and keep 'em from pryin' about; but
for the Lord sake, mar, don't talk nothing
lowlife."
"Well," says I, "Betsy, I will try to talk
anything you want me to." Says she, "Talk
about the fashions, and Washington, and whar
they went to last winter."
So I goes in, and says I, "You all seed any
new fashions this year V Says one of 'em,
holdin' her head up mighty high, "We always
receive from our manta-maker and milliner
the latest styles." "Well, now," says I, "I
thought you wouldn't a spiled yourselves that
away, your own selves , an' lo an' behole, its
that mancher-maker woman. She sent you all
these outlandish jimecracks and thought you
don't know no better." I don't know what
made Betsy think they'd like to talk about
fashions, for they didn't, I was cute enough to
see that in a minute; so I tried Washington.
Says I, " Fou was to Washington last winter ?"
Says one mighty brisk, "Yes, we wont to see
our uncle take his scat in Congress as an Hon
orable Representative." "Well," says I, "if
I ain't clean beat ! So Jake Feathercord is a
rsagr:se man ! Well, if he ken make speech
es as fast as he can lay bricks, he's a glib one.
But I don't approvo of people leavin' off a
good trade ari'takin' up with what they know
notfiin' at all about. Now Jake was a mighty
good brick layer."
"You are mistaken, Ma'am," says she ; "my
uncle is the Hon. Jacobi Feathercord."
Says I, "I reckon I aint mistaken. Old
Jake never had but two sons, Zuke, your pap
py, and young J;dte."
Well, if you believe it, Betsy was out of it
again they wuz noways anxious about Wash
ington ; so I picked up a mighty lino little
shiny snuffbox, lyin' in one of their laps, an'
saysjl, "This is a newTashion snuff box ; migh
ty purty."
"It's not a snuff box," says she, right off
short; "it's a card case."
Bless rae, I looked right up to the top of the
room. 'ine ioru neip your poor soul," says-
I, "why you aint eighteen years old, and are
carryin' your cards about to play an' gamble
with all day long."
"They're not playing cards," says she.
"Well," says I, "do let me see them." She
showed 'me one; 'twas nothing on the Lord's
yearth bnt a piece of white pasteboard, with
'Miss Netty Feathercord' writ on it. Says I,
"what docs you do with these things ? 'Twant
worth while to fetch 'em here ; we all knowed
you. And your nigger in the uniform told us
all o' your names afore you could get a chance
to tell 'em yourselves."
Says the, "When we wish to pay calls, if we
do not feel like going in ourselves, or the per
sons we are calling on arc out or do not wish
to receive the company, we just send our ser
vant to the door with one of these, which is
equivalent to a visit, We bad some calls to
make on the way here this morning."
"Wei!," says I, "you all don't set much
store by each others' company, ef a nigger in
a soger's jacket an' a piece of pasteboard does
as well," and I put it mighty softly, athinkin,
"you better make a snuffbox of it."
"Well, I tried mighty hard to entertain for
poor Betsy. I told 'em all about blue dye and
coperas dye, and how wuz the best way to set
hens, an' which eggs would hatch pullets an'
which roosters, an' how to keep a dog from a
suckin' of 'em, an' all about Betsy's baby a
havin' the measles an' hoopin-cough both at
once. But ef you believe me, they never
heerd a word I was sayin ! So I run through
and let 'em alone. We was all a settin' up be
havin with all our might, when Betsy came to
the door an' axed 'em all to walk out to din
ner. It was a powerful relief all round. When
we got to the dinner room, thar was a mighty
nice dinner spread out. and thar stood Barney,
an' Bill an' Jim Jones, ready to set down.
The quality looked at Jim an' Bill, then look
ed at each other, and looked lor all the world
like they had never been axed to eat dinner
before, an' didn't know whether to set down
or not. Barney he knowed what they wus ar
ter, but I didn't. So says he, "Ladies, take
seats, an' set down an' help yourselves. Bill,
you an Jim set down an' fall to. These gen
tlemen, ladies, are my friends." Bill an' Jim
did set right down an' fall to, shure enough ;
they never cared a mite ef the quality had a
stood over 'em and stared at them a month.
The quality seemed like they wus a gwine
back in the ball room. But they give another
look at the dinner, an' I reckon they wus as
hungry as Bill and Jim wus, for they sot right
down sort o' desprit, and got theirselves help
ed. Presently one on 'em looked at one o'
the nigger gals an' says, "Girl, hand me the
celery."
Dilce locked at Betsy mighty hard ; Betsey
frowned at Dilce, an' looked like she knew all
about it, an' says, "Hand the salt-cellar."
Dilce handed the salt-cellar.
"No," says the quality gal, "I asked for the
celery," and sho looked fight hard in the plate
o' raw shellotcs.
Dilce jerked up that and handed it to her.
"Them is shellotes," says Barney.
The quality gal turned her nose right up at
Betsy's shellotes, which never done her no
harm, an' says, "I thought they were celery."
"I'm very sorry," says poor Betsy, "I didn't
know you preferred celery to shellotes."
"You needn't trouble yourself to be sorry,
wife," says Barney, "we hain't got no salary,
and taint your fault they don't grow here."
Arter a while one on 'em had eat everything
out of her plate right clean, an' says she, "Mr.
Baker, I believe I will change my plate, and
take a bit of that goose."
"Certainly, mam," says Barney mighty po
lite. So he cuts off a nice piece and lays it on
his own plate, what was full of all sorts o'
things, and swaps plates with Miss Feather
cord. Well, the notionate woman wouldn't
eat a bite of Barney's dinner arter she got it,
an' I didn't know what made Barney look so
solem, like he was a doin' mischief. Come to
find out, he knowed all the time that she want
ed a right clean plate to eat that piece of
goose off-er.
Arter they had all made a mighty hearty
dinner, the old lady tuk her hands and done
'em so at Dilce, like she wanted 'em rubbed.
Well, the niggers had been ruonin' round the
table all the time an' Dilce was bent on show
in' how smart she was. So she flew at the old
soul's hands an' set to rubbin' 'em like all pos
sessed ; but Miss Feathercord jerked 'em a
way, an' says she, "I wanted a finger-basin."
Poor Betsy, she was tuck all aback agin.
But she is a mighty smart woman, ef she is
my daughter, and don't often be put out. She
'membered in a minute the little porringer she
keeps on the top shelf to give people chicken
soup in. So she filled it with water, and hand
ed it to Miss Feathercord. She washed her
hands in it, an' all round her mouth, and then
tuck a mouthful an' washed out the inside of
her mouth, an' spit it all back in the porringer.
Thinks I, you don't git me to eat any more
chicken soup out of that quality finger-hasin.
The rest o' the quality, when they seed thar
was no more porringers comin', all washed
their hands in their tumblers. I looked with
all my eyes to see 'em drink the water, .when
fhey was done an' spit it back in the tumbler ;
but as good luck would have it they didn't ; I
know it would a made Barney mighty mad to
had to smash up all them new tumblers arter
the quality had used 'em ; and for my part, I
can't see what they bedaub theirselves with
everything they eat fur, and can't git up from
tho table till they are washed. 'Twould a been
a heap less trouble to poor Betsy ef they had
a kept their hands under the table cloth, and
a let the niggers a fed 'em.
By tho time the dinner doins wus over it was
putty late. Wo tho't shuro they was a gwine
to stay all night. But fust thing we knowed,
they axed fur their hats. (That's what they
call them poseys they war on their beads.)
Barney told 'em they better stay, that 'twas
dangerous to rido eight miles over that rough
road after dark.
"Oh," says one, "we never go out before
dark if we can avoid it ; old Sol's too ardent
beams are too overpowering."
" Yes," says another, "and the gentle moon
light is so soft and beautiful."
"And," said another, poetical and soul
inspiring." "And," says t'other . the twinkling stars
looked like the ever, matching eyes of our
guardian angels."
Barney looked like he thought it was his du
ty to warn 'em and to ax 'cm to stay all night,
but seemed mightily relieved when they
wouldn't be warned. lie told 'em there wasn't
no moon ; but they said them an' their coach
man an' bosses an' carriage was all used to ri
din' about at night ; so they fixed on their
head-gear and took their little sun fans an'
started.
Poor Betsy was hard at work to the last a
gittin their supper, for she was bound to have
that in time.
"Well, wife," said Barney, "I don't know
which looks the jadedest, you or my par of
old oxen that Ben Gill has been workin' most
to death."
I don't think, Mr. Baker," says Betsy,
"you have much respect for your wife, to
compare her to your old oxen."
Says he, " Whether I have respect for her or
not, I am gwine to take care of her, and you've
got to let them quality alone. I don't tsje
nothing in 'cm that my wife should be a kil
lin' up herself a boot-lickin' this way.
"Yes," says I, "to say nothin' of all the
poultry that's been killed."
We all went to bed "pretty soon, cause you
see the quality had pretty nigh used us up.
But we wa'nt done with 'em yet. Way 'long
in the night I heard a great beatin' at the front
door. I jumped up, got a light, and went to
see what was to pay, an' as I live, thar stood
cno of those nigger soldgers, a bowin', and a
scrapin' soon as he got sight o' me.
"Th? Lord bless my soul," says I, "is your
missus sent you here to fetch one of them vis
itin' cards this time of night ?"
He bowed agin and says, "Mrs. Featbercord
presents her respects to Mr. Baker, and would
be much obliged could he lend his assistance.
The coachman being deceived by the darkness
of the night, was so unfortunate as to run off
the side of the causeway and upset tho car.
riage in the swamp."
I seized him by the collar and give him sicb
a shaken, uniform an' all, jest like I was ma
kin up a feather bed. Says I, "You impudent
captain general you, why didn't you say so at
onct T What did you stand a bowin' an' talk
in' quality talk tome fur, and all your misscs
scs a slasbin' about heels over head in Cow
Swamp t"
Barney heerd me a talkin' to a strange man,
an' come tumblin' down stars, rolled up in a
blanket, an' when he saw me collarin' of the
fine nigger, says he, "Mother, jest turn that
fellar over to me."
Says I, "Barney, go right up stairs an' get
into some close directly and start off. Them
quality women and their flunky nigger, an'
bosses, an' carriage, an' little sun fans, an' po
seys, an' snuff-boxes, an' visitin' canls, is
keeled over in Cow Swamp."
"Of course," says Barney, "so much for git
tin soul-inspired, an' trustin' to the moonshine
of a dark night, and starry eyes of guarjin an
gels." But he hurried off; an' 1 give the nig
ger another shake, jest to remind him I hart
holt of him yit. "Now," says I, "run for
yenr life to that fust nigger house you come
to, and tell Dan, without no palaverin', mind
you, to jump right up, and get the carry-all
ready, and his master's boss, and you help an'
have it ready right away."
I let him go, an' you would a thought I had
shot him off. I put a pile of blankets in the
carry-all, and Barney and Dan went down five
miles to Cow Pond and fished 'em all out an'
carried 'em home ; and we've washed our
hands of them quality ever since.
Well, its most dark. Good-bye honey.
You're mighty pleasant company. I've en
joyed myself powerful.
For the Raftsman's Journal.
CHANGE.
BV ELLA H.
Changing, is indellibly inscribed on every
object beneath the broad blue canopy of Hea
ven. Tho saffron tints which illuminate the
oriental morning ; the imposing beauty of the
noon-day sun ; the rosy clouds of evening, aro
subject alike to mutability. The verdant grass,
the fragile flowers, the stalwart trees, the
blooming meadow, the quaking forest, the
dancing rill, the murmuring river, the foaming
ocean all arc changing. To-day clouds may
obscuro the beauty of the rising sun ; to-morrow
those clouds will have passed away, and
the brilliant luminary bursts upon our enrap
tured gaze in all its golden glory.
So it is in the intellectual, as well as the
physical world. . Tho restless mind of man is
primarily as unsculptured marble, pliable to
any impression which the skillful artist may
choose to engrave an impress which cannot
be erased, though the storm of adversity may
beat in all its fury. It is an incondite mass
till education tunes the heart's lyre and rears
it to the attention of the great and good. The
untutored mind of a child is snsceptible to
any magnanimity which the being of reflec
tion may wish to inculcate ; and that as infal
lible as the frail barque of hnmanity, and
fades only with the intellect. Line after lino
is indited on tho page of imagination and mem
ory, till the unthinking, defenceless child be
comes the thoughtful, powerful man of refine
ment, intellect, greatness, education and hon
or. We, too, are changing : we are fast pass
ing away ; the thoughts, the feelings, the sen
timents that predominated over us yesterday,
have fled, and others, new and strange, which
rule our hearts to-day, may exert no influence
on action to-morrow. It is well that empires
and kingdoms, forests and fields, flowers and
fruit, streamlets and seas, as well as thought
and opinions change. Were they always the
same, the human mind, fond of variety, wjuld
soon weary of the monotony. Now we may
bask in the sunlight of Friendship, and rejoice
in the smiles of prosperity and happiness ; to
morrow dark clouds may dim the lustre of our
social horizon ; we may be called to shed the
bitter tear of sympathy or sorrow over the ru
ins of some beloved object or admired friend,
to see our cherished hopes drowned in the vor
tex of oblivion. Let us be preparing for a
more glorious, a happier, better, greater
change, one that will sever the galling fetters
which bind us to Earth, try to forget the sor
row, the wrecks of mutability in the past, and
live in the enjoyment of the present, ever re
membering there are bright and elevating, as
well as gloomy changes in life's varying drama.
Fleming, Centre Co., Pa.
THE SAM) IIILLER
WHAT SLAVERY DOES FOR TUK rOOK WHITE JIAX.
A correspondent of Life Illustrated, trav
elling in South Carolina, thus describes the
condition of that miserable class of whites
called Sand hitlers, whom the employment of
Slave labor by the wealthiest class has driven
into vagabondage.
Between the "low country," of South Caro
lina lies the middle, or Sand-hill region. A
large portion of this tract, which varies from
ten to thirty miles covered with forests of pine
interspersed here and there with a variety of
other trees. Where it is under cultivation,
the principal crop is cotton. But the land is
not generally fertile, and much of it is likely
to remain for a long time, a partial wilder
ness. The country itself presents few interesting
features, but it is the home of a singular race
of people, to whom I may profitably devote a
few paragraphs of description.
In travelling through the "middle country."
I often passed the rade, squalid cabins of the
Sand-hillers. All the inmates usually flocked
to the door of their windowless domicils to
stare at me and such a lank scrawny, filthy
set of beings I never beheld elsewhere not
even in the "puilieus" of the -'Five Points."
Their complexion is a ghastly yellowish
white, without the faintest tinge of wholesome
red. Tho hair of the adults is generally
sandy and that of th children nearly as white
as cotton. The children are even paler, if pos
sible thau the adults, and often paiufully hag
gard and sickly looking.
They are entirely uneducated, and semi-barbarian
In all their habits, very dull, stupid
and in a general social position far below the
slave population around them. In fact the
negroes look down upon them with mingled
feelings of pity and contempt. They are quar
tered on lands belonging to others either with
or without their consent. They sometimes cul
tivate or rather plant a small patch of ground
near their cabins, raising a little corn and a
few cabbages, melons and sweet potatoes. The
agricultural operations never extend any be
yond this.
Corn bread, pork and cabbage, (fried in lard)
seemed to be their principal articles of diet.
To procure the latter, and whatever clothes
they require, they make shingles or baskets
or gather pine knots, or wild berries which
they sell in tho villages, but beyond what is
required to supply their very limited actual
necessities they will not work for.
Their principal employments are hunting
and fishing, and their standard amusement,
drinking whiskey and fighting.
Their dress is as primitive as their habits.
The women and children invariably go bare
headed, bare-footed and bare-legged, their
only garments apparently being a coarse cal
ico dress. The men wear a cotton shirt and
trousers of the coarse home-spun cloth of the
country, with the addition sometimes of an up
per garment too rude and shapeless to be
named or described.
I one day met a migrating family of these
miserable people. On a most sorry, lank, and
almost fleshless substitute for a horse, were
packed the entire household effects of the
family, consisting of a bed and a few cooking
utensils. Two small children occupied the
top of the pack. Two larger ones, each load
ed with a bundle, trudged behind the mother,
who appeared not more than seventeen years
of age. The lather a wild sinister looking fel
loe, walked in advance of the rest with his
long rifle on his shoulder, and his hunting
pouch by his side.
A correspondent of one of the city dallies
thus describes an encounter with a Sand-hill
family :
"Here, on the road, we met a family who
have been in town. A little girl of ten years
old, with a coarse fragment of dress on, is sit
ting on the backbone of a moving skeleton of
a horse, which has the additional task of trail
ing along a rickety specimen of a wagon in
which is seated a man a real outside squalid
barbarian, maudlin and obfusticated with bald
faced whiskey with a child four or five years
old by bis side. Behind this a haggard look
ing boy upon another skeleton of a horse is
coming.
What alow outlandish, low wheeled cart
the horse is polling! .There aits the old
woman and her grown up daughter, with noth
ing on apparently, except a very dirty bonnet,
a coarse and dirty gown. The daughter has
a basket by her side, and the old woman holds
fast to a suspicious looking stone jug, of half
a gallon measure, corked with a corn cob.
You can bet your life on it, that is a jug of
whiskey. The family have been to the vil
lage with a couple of one horse loads of pine
knots used for light wood. They have pro
bably sold them for a dollar, half of which has
doubtless gone for whiskey, and now they are
getting home. Degraded as they are, you see
it is the man who is helpless and the woman
who has the care of the jug, and conducts the
important expedition. There are hundreds
such people dispersed through these Sand
hills. You see the whoie of this party are
bare-legged and bare-footed. And how bony
and brown they are I And it is a curious fact,
that in the temperate countries, the children
of all semi-barbarous white people (except
Sir Henry Buhner's pack of red headed Celts,)
and all Anglo-Saxon back-woods, or "
or prairie people, have cotton-headed or flaxen-headed
children.
Low indeed is the lowest class of the white
people in the sourthern States, bnt nowhere
else have I found them so degraded as in South'
Carolina. "Poor buckrah," poor wnito.
folks," are the terms by which the negroe
designate thm, and in the "poor" a great
detl is meant in this connection. It includes
not only pecuniary poverty, but ignorance,
boorishncss and general degradation. The
Southern negro never applies the word to any
one who has the manners and bearing of a
gentleman, however light his purse. "Poor
white man" is an object he looks down upon-
an object of pity or contempt."
This sketch very well offsets the beggarly
description given by Southern journals of
Northern mechanics and laborers with this
difference. The condition of the latter (thef
mechanics) is too independent and prosperous
to be tolerated by the aristocratic' feelings of
the slave-drivers who seek to drag them to a
level with their fclavea ; while tho Sand-hillers
are the low, degraded and barbarian product
of Slavery domination the remainder in this
problem of "Southern Society."
AGRICULTURAL.
Importance ok Land Draining. We have
recently travelled over considerable portions
of the country, says the Valley Farmer, and
noticed in many places that the wheat crop
has been more or less winter-killed. This-is
owing, in the first place, to late sowing, in con
sequence of the dry, unfavorable weather at
the proper time of sowing; and when winter
set in, the plants were small, with weak slen
der roots ; the earth has since been filled with
moisture, and the succeeding lrosts have, in
some unfavorable locations, entirely killed out
the wheat.
The corn crop is a very important one to the
American farmer. Upon the flat and other'
wise wet lands, corn is usually retarded in its
growth several weeks in consequence of the
excessive moisture in tbc soil during its early
growth. Corn is a tropical plant and requires
great heat to insure a quick and vigorous
growth, but while the excess of water is pass-
ing off by the slow process of evaporation, the)
natural warmth of the soil is reduced thereby,
eight or ten degrees, and the consequence is,
for the first month or more the corn makes a
slow, sickly growth ; whereas, upon a drained
soil it starts vigorously with tho commence
ment of warm weather, and becomes well root-
ed and far advanced towards maturity before
the drouth of summer sets in. What is true
of corn, is also true in a greater or less degree
of other crops. It is an established philc
sophical fact, that every gallon of water that
is carried off by evaporation from the soil, re
quires as much heat as would raise five and a
half gallons from the freezing to the boiling
point, fo that it may be clearly seen that the
immense amount of water that must necessa
rily escape from such lands by evaporation,
carries with it a groat amount of heat, when it
is most required by the growing crop.
Within the last few years, there has been a
very marked improvement in the varions de
partments of agriculture in the United States,
and we know of none more important that now
demands the attention of the American far
mer than that of land draining. In a few
States, nnder-draining has been adopted to
some extent, and the result has been an in
crease in the yield of crops cultivated lrom
one hundred to two hundred per cent. At the
prices to which corn and wheat have advanced,
and which are now likely to be sustained, this
increase of product will pay all the cost of
draining in from one to three years frequent
ly in one year ; nor is the increased produc
tiveness all the advantages that result froui
draining. The soil is less likely to wash and
run into the valleys during heavy rains, andl
the health and longevity of the inhabitants iu
the drained districts are greatly promoted. It
is the excess of stagnant water in the soil,
which on only escape by the slow process cf
evaporation, that causes much of the billions
di seases that prevail in our country during wet
seasons. Another advantage is, drained laud
is better prepared to withstand the effects of
drouth than that which has been saturated with
water and firmly packed during winter and
spring. .
Tne Brooklyn Daily Time suggetts the ap
pointment of Phineas T. Barnum to the Gov
ernorship of Utah. It contends that duplicity
is more needed there than force, and thinks
before a year would pass, Baranm would hav
the Mormons conquered, Brigbam Young a
prisoner, and put in a cage, to show around
the country!
There is a story in Washington that in con
sequence of the declining state of his health.
Gen- Cass will soon withdraw from the head
of the State Department, and that Governoi
Walker will be recalled from Kansas to fill the
place of the great Michigander.
A man named Daily, for attempting to- com
mit suicide in Hendricks county, IndL, has
been sentenced to the penitentiary fer three
years, and disenfranchised for ten years.
Dr. Conyers, of London, dissected a person
who died for love, and found an impression of
a lad
hia heart
ou art a jewel. That'
8 80.