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BY W. LEWIS.
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1-lie thee maiden to the 'hewer,
Dream of truth and love,
Cloaing is the sweet blue flower,
The stars look out above.
Rest thee at the twilight hour,
And its enchantment prove.
Manhood in thy noble prime,
Rest at set of sun ;
Heavy are the . toils of time,
But this day's work is done ;
Labor is the art sublime
Of nature's noblemen.
Mother, with thy infant fair
Sleeping on thy knee,
Rest awhile, this quiet hour
Brings peace for such as thee ;
Thou art watchworn, pale with care,
Bnt now let thought be•free.
Blooming child that, all the day'
Hath played where violets lie,
Or sought in innocence to stay
The fleeting butterfly,
Rest, while so blissfully you may,
With half closed angel eye.
Furrowed man of many a year,
With thy thin, gray hair,
Let this hour thy spirit cheer,
Though life be hard to bear.
Twilight brings each loved one near
Rest in thy old arm chair.
Christian, bath temptation sore
Vexed thee with the light ;
Hast thou seen on earth the power
Of sin, and wept the sight 'I
Rest in faith this holy hour,
All above is bright.
Life's Better IVloznents
Life has its. moments
Of beauty and bloom
They hang like sweet roses
On the edge of the tomb.
Blessings they bring us,
As lovely as brief;
They meet us when happy,
And leave us in grief.
Dues of the morning,
Tinging the sky,
Come on the sunbeams,
And off' with them fly ;
Shadows of evening
Hang soft on the shore;
Darkness enwraps them,
We see them no more.
So Life's better moments
In brilliance appear,
Dawning in beauty
Our journey to cheer:
Round they linger,
Like shadows of even.
Would that we, like them,
Might melt into heaven.
DANIEL MORGAN, AND HIS AMER
' ICAN RIFLEMEN.
A: REVOLUTIONARY SKETCH.
The outpost of the two armies were very
near to each other, when the American com
mander, desirous of obtaining particular in
formation respecting the position of the ad
versary, summoned the famed leader of the
Riflemen, Colonel Daniel Morgan, to head
quarters.
It was night, and the chief was alone.—
After his usual polite, yet reserved and dig
nified salutation, Washington remarked : "I
have sent for you, Col. Morgan, to entrust to
your courage and sagacity a small, but impor
tant enterprise. I wish you to reconnoitre
the enemy's line, with a view to your ascer
taining correctly the position of 11.eir newly
constructed redoubts, also the encampments
of the British troops that have lotely arrived,
and those of their Hessian auxiliaries. Se
lect, sir, an officer, non-commissioned offi
cer, and about twenty picked men, and, un
der cover of the night, proceed, but, with all
caution, get as near as you can, and by day
dawn retire and make your report to head
quarters. But mark me, Col. Morgan, mark
me well, upon no account whatever are you
to bring on any skirmish with the enemy ; if
discovered, make a speedy retreat : let noth
ing induce you- to fire a single shot. I repeat
sir, that no force of circumstances will excuse
the discharge of a single rifle on your part;
and for the extreme preciseness of these or
der; permit me to say, I have my reasons."
Filling two glasses of wine, the General con
cluded : " And now, Col. Morgan, we will
drink a good night, and success to your enter
prise." Col. Morgan quaffed the wine, smack
ed his lips, and assured his Excellency that
his orders should be punctually obeyed, and
left the tent of the Commander-in-Chief.
Charmed at being chosen as the executive
officer of a daring enterprise ' the leader of
the woodsmen repaired to his quarters, and
calling for Gabriel Long, his favorite captain,
ordered him to detail a trusty sergeant and
twenty prime fellows, who, being mustered
and ordered to lay on their arms, ready at a
moment's warning, Morgan and Long stretch
ed their manly forms before the watch fire to
wait the going down 'of the moon, the signal
of departure.
A. little after midnight, and while the rays
of the setting moon still faintly glimmered
in the western horizon, "up Sergeant," cried
Long, " stir up your men," and twenty ath
letic figures were on their feet in a moment.
" 'lndian file, march," and away they all
sprung with the quick; rind yet light and
stealthy step of the woodsman. They reach
ed the enemy's line, crawled up so close to
the pickets of the Hessians as to inhale the
odor of their piped
. discovered by the newly
turned earth the position of the redoubts, and
by the numerous tents that dotted the field
for "many a rod around," and showed dimly,
amid the haze, the encampment of the British
and German reinforcements, and, in short,
performed their perilous duty without the
slightest discovery, and, pleased with them
selves and the success of their enterprise,
prepared to retire, just as a chanticleer from
a neighboring farm-house was " bidding sal
utation to the morn."
The adventurous party reached a small em
inence' 'at some distance from the British
camp, and commanding an extensive prospect
over the adjacent country. Here Morgan
halted to give his men a little rest, before ta
king up his line of march to the American
outposts. Scarcely had they thrown them
selves upon the grass, when they perceived
issuinly ° from the enemy's advanced pickets a
body of horse, commanded by an officer, and
proceeding along the road that led directly by
the spot where the riflemen had halted. No
spot could be better chosen for au ambuscade,
for there were rocks and ravines, and also
scrubby oaks, that grew thickly on the emi
nence by which the road we have just men
tioned passed, at not exceeding a hundred
yards.
"Down, boys, down," cried Morgan, as
the horse approached; nor did the clansmen
of the Black Roderick disappear more prompt
ly amid their native heather than did Morgan's
woodsmen, in the present instance, each to
his tree or rock. " Lie close there, my lads,
till we see what these fellows are about."
Meantime the horsemen had g ained the
height, and the officer dropping the rein on
the charger's neck, with spy-glass reconnoi
tered the American lines. The -troops closed
up their files, and were either caressing the
noble animals: they rode, adjusting their
equipments, or gazing upon the surrounding
scenery, now fast brightening in the beams
of a rising sun. •
Morgan looked at Long, and Long at his
superior, while the riflemen, with panting
chests and sparkling eyes, were only waiting
some signal from their officer " to let the ruin
fl y. "
At length the martial ardor of Morgan
overcame his prudence and sense of military
subordination. Forgetful of consequences,
reckless of everything but his enemy, now
within his grasp, he waved his hand, and loud
and sharp tang the report of their rifles amid
the surrounding echoes.
At point blank distance, the certain and
deadly aim of the Hunting Shirts of the
Revolutionary army is too well known to his
tory to need remark at this time of day. In
the instance we have recorded, the effect of
the fire - of the riflemen was tremendous. Of
the horsemen, some had fallen to rise no more,
over the adjoining plain, others, Wounded,
but entangled with their stirrups, were drag
ged by the infuriated animals expiringly along
while the very few who were unscathed spur
red hard to regain the shelter of the British
lines.
While the smoke yet canopied the scene of
slaughter, and the picturesque forms of the
woodsmen appeared among the foliage, as
they were reloading their pieces, the colossal
figure of Morgan stood apart. He seemed
the very genius of war, and gloomily he con
templated the havoc his order had made. He
spoke not, he moved not, but looked as one
absorbed in the intensity of thought. The
martial shout with which he was wont to
cheer his comrades in the hour of combat,
was hushed; the shell from which he had
blown full many a note of battle and of tri
umph on the field of Saratoga, hung by his
side ; no order was given to spoil the slain,
the arms and equipments, for which there
was always a bounty horn Congress, the
shirts of which there were such a need at
that the sorest period of our country's priva
tion, all, all were abandoned ) as, with an ab
stracting air and a voice struggling for utter
ance, Morgan, suddenly turning to his captain,
exclaimed, "Long, to the camp, to the camp."
The favorite captain obeyed,the riflemen with
trailed arms fell into file, and Long and his
party soon disappeared, but not before the
hardy fellows had exchanged opinions on the
strange termination of the late affair. And
they agreed, nem con., that their colonel was
tricired, (conjured,) for assuredly after such
a .fire as they had given the enemy, such an
emptying of saddles and scattering of the
troopers, he would not have ordered his poor
rifle boys from the field, without so much as
a few shirts or pair.of stockings being divided
among them. "Yes," said a tall, lean and
swarthy looking fellow, as ho carefully placed
his moccasined feet in the foot-prints of the
file leader, " Yes, my lads, it stands to reason,
our colonel is tricked."
Morgan followed slowly on the trail of his
men. The full force of his military guilt
had rushed upon his mind, even before the
report of his rifles bad ceased to echo in the
neighboring forests. He became more con
vinced of the enormity of his offence, as,
with dull and measured strides, he pursued
his solitary way, soliloquizing :
" Well, Daniel Morgan, you have done for
yourself. Broke, sir, to a certainty. You
may go home, sir, to the plough; your sword
will be of no further use to you. Broken,
sir, nothing can save you ; and there is the
end of Col. Morgan. Fool, fool, by a single
act of madness, thus to destroy the earnings
of so many a hard'-fought battle. You are
broken, sir, a--td there is an end of Colonel
Morgan.”
To disturb his reverie, there sudddenly ap
peared at full speed the aid-de-camp, the
HUNTINGDON, MAX 14, 185(.
Mercury of the field, who, reining up, accost
ed the Colonel with, "I am ordered, Col. Mor
gan, to ascertain whether the firing just now
heard proceeded from your detachment ?"
" It did sir," doggedly replied Morgan.
"Then, Col. Morgan," continued the aid,
" I am further ordered to require of you your
immediate attendance upon his Excellency,-
who is fast approaching."
Morgan bowed, and the aid, wheeling his
charger, galloped back to rejoin the Chief.
The gleams of the mornieg sun, shining
upon the sabres of the horse guard, announ;
ced the arrival of the dread commander—
that being who inspired with a degree of awe
every onelwho approached him. With a
stern, yet dignified composure, Washington
addressed tne military culprit :
" Can it be possible, Col. Morgan, that my
aid-de-camp has informed.me aright? Can
it be possible, after the orders you received
last evening, that the firing we have beard
proceeded from your detachment ? Surely,
sir, my orders were so explicit as not to be
easily misunderstood."
. Allorg,an was brave,. but it has been often,
and and justly, too, ,observed, that man was
never born of woman who could approach the
great Washington and not feel a degree of
awe and veneration from his presence. Mor
gan quailed for a moment before the stern
yet just displeasure of his Chief, till arousing
all his energies for the effort, be 'uncovered
and replied :
" Your Excellency's orders were perfectly
understood; and agreeably to the same, I pro
ceeded with the select party to reconnoitre
the enemy's lines by night. We succeeded
even beyond our expectations, and I was re
turning to. the headquarters to make my re
port, when, having halted a few minutes to
rest the men, we discovered a party of horse
coming out from the enemy's lines. They
came up immediately to the spot where we
lay concealed in the brushwood. There .they
halted, and gathered together like a flock of
partridges, affording me so tempting an op
portunity of annoying my enemy, and, may
it please your Excellency, flesh and blood
could not refrain."
At this rough, yet frank, bold and manly
explanation, a smile was observed to pass
over the General's suite. The Chief remain
ed unmoved ; when, waving his hand, he
continued: " Colonel Morgan, you will retire
to your quarters, there to await further or
ders."
Arrived at his quarters, Morgan threw him-
Self upon his hard couch, and gave himself
up to reflections upon the events which had
so lately and rapidly succeeded each other.—
He was aware he had sinned all hopes of for
giveness. Within twenty hours he had fallen
from the command of a regiment, and beino ,
an especial favorite of the General, to be
what 3—a disgraced and broken soldier.—
Condemned to retire from the scenes of glory,
the darling passion of his heart—forever to
abandon the " fair fields of fighting men,"
and in obscurity to drag out the remnant of
a wretched existence, neglected and forgotten.
And then his rank so hardly and so nobly
won, with all his "blushing honors" acquired
in the march across the frozen wilderness of
the Kennebec, the storming of the Lower
Town, and the gallant and glorious combat at
Saratoga.
The hours dragged gloomily away, and
night came, and with it no rest for poor Mor
gan. The drums and fifes merrily sounded
the soldier's dawn, and the sun arose, giving
" promise of a goodly day." And to many
within the circuit of this widely extended
camp did his genial beam give hope, and joy
and gladness, while it cheered not with a sin
gle ray the despairing Leader of the Woods
men.
About ten o'clock the orderly on duty re
potted the arrival of an officer of the• staff,
from headquarters, and Lieutenant Colonel
Hamilton, the favorite of the Commander-in.
chief, entered the marque.
" Be seated," said Morgan, , "I know your
errand, so be abort, my dear fellow, and put
me out of my misery at once. 1 know that
lam arrested; 'tis a matter of course. Well,
there is my sword; but surely his Excellency
honors me, indeed, in these last moments of
my military existence, when he sends for my
sword by his favorite aid, and my most es
teemed friend. Ah, Hamilton, if you knew
what I have suffered since that accursed
horse came out to tempt me to my ruin."
Hamilton, about whose striking intelligent
countenance there always lurked a playful
smile, now' observed, " Colonel Morgan, his
excellency has ordered me to"—
" 1 knew it," interrupted Morgan, " to bid
me prepare for trial ? but, pshaw, why a
trial? Guilty, sir, guilty past all doubt.—
But then," recollecting himself, "perhaps my
services may plead—nonsense—against the
disobedience of a positive order; no, no, it's
all over with me. Hamilton, there is an end
to your old friend, Col. Morgan."
The agonized spirit of the hero then mount
ed to a pitch of enthusiasm as he exclaimed,
" But my country will remember my services,
and the British and Hessians will remember
me; for, though I may be far away, my brave
comrades will do their duty; and Morgan's
Riflemen will be, as they always have been,
a terror to the enemy.
The noble, the generous-souled Hamilton
could no longer bear to witness the struggles
of the brave unfortunate; he called out,
"Hear me, my dear Colonel ; only promise to
hear me for one moment, and I will tell you
all."
"Go on, sir," interrupted Morgan, despair
ingly, go on."
"Then," continued the aid-de-camp, "you
must know that the commanders of regiments
dine with his Excellency to-day."
"What of that P' again interrupted Mor
gan ; " what has that to do with me a pris
oner and—"
"No," exclaimed Hamilton; no prisoner—.
a once offending, but now a forgiven soldier;
my orders are to invite you to dine with his
Excellency to-day, at three o'clock precisely ;
yes, my brave and good friend, Col. Morgan,
you still are and likely long to be the valued
and famed commander of the Regiment.
Morgan sprang from his camp bed, upon
which he was sitting, and seizing, the hand
of the great little man in his giant grasp,
wrung and wrung it, till the aid-de-camd lit
erally struggled to get free, then exclaimed :
" Am I in my senses ? but I know you, Ham
ilton—you are too noble to• sport with the
feelings of an old brother soldier."
Hamilton assured his friend that all was
true, and gaily kissing his hand, as he mount
ed his horse, bidding the now delighted Col;
onel remember three o'clock, and be careful
not.to disobey a second time, galloped to
htad-quarters.
Morgan entered the pavilion of the Corn
mander-in-Chief,as it was filling with officers,
all of whom, after paying their respects to
the General, filed off to give a cordial squeeze
of the hand to the Commander of the Rifle
Regiment, and to whisper in his ear words of
congratulation. The cloth removed, Wash
ington bid his guests fill their glasses, and
gave his only, his unwavering toast of the
days of trial, the toast of :he evening of his
" time honored" life amid the shades of
Mmint Vernon, "All our Friends." Then ;
with his usual old-fashioned politeness, he
drank. to each guest by name. When he
came to "Col. Morgan, your health, sir," a
thrill ran through the manly frame of the
gratified and again favorite soldier, while ev
ery
. eye in the pavilion was turned on him.
At an early hour the company broke up, and
Morgan had a perfect escort of officers ac
companying him to his quarters, all anxious
to congratulate him upon his happy , restora
lima to rank and favor, all pleased to assure
him of their esteem for his person and ser
vices.
The Probable Effect of Peace In Europe
The Washington Union of Saturday, closes
a long article on the conclusion of peace in
Europe, with the following remarks as to the
probable effects upon this country:—
With respect to its operation on the inter
ests and repose of the United States—for that
is the point of view in which it should be
contemplated by Americans—we are by no
means assured tbat,however we may rejoice at
the cessation of the effusion of blood in one
quarter of the globe, it may not react-disas
trously on another. Should the Anglo-French
alliance still adhere to the policy announced
at the commencement of the war with Russia,
and having settled the equilibria rn of - power
in Europe, proceed to regulate the affairs of
America, we apprehend we are rather too
disinterested in our rejoicings at the conclu
sion of a peace which will leave the entente
cordiale at perfect liberty to take measures
for arresting "the grasping ambition" of the
United States, similar perhaps to those
brought to operate against Russia.
There are not wanting premonitory symp
toms indicating that such a thing is possible.
The organ of the British Premier (whose
hostile feelings towards the United States ap
pear to have become chronic and incurable)
recently announced a plan for "regulating"
affairs in that quarter not altogeter compat
ible with his repeated professions of "a sin
cere desire to cultivate the most friendly re
lations with the United States." Both mem
bers of the Anglo-French alliance are aug
menting their naval and military forces in
this quarter. The British squadron lords it
over the Gulf of Mexico, the Island of Cuba,
and the Caribbean se a ; large reinforcements
of troops are on their way to Canada; and it is
stated that 15,000 French soldiers are to be
permanently stationed in the Island of Mar
tinique. What are the reasons for this last
procedure have, so far as we know, not been
avowed; but those alleged by the other party
are so frivolous and inadequate that we have
a right to conclude there are others more se
cret and substantial.
Without the slightest desire to excite unne.
cessary or unfounded apprehensions, we can
not forbear expressing the opinion that there
is quite enough in the present aspect of affairs
to warn us of the neceasity of preparing to
meet a crisis that sooner or later must come.
The discovery of America was equivalent to
the creation of a New World. Previous to
that memorable epoch there was but one ma
terial world; now there are two, with oppo
sing interests, and, what is more, opposing
principles. Europe has long been accnstom
ed to domineer over the other quarters of the
globe, and though she has lost her supremacy
in the West, has, in the meantime, extended
it over the East. That the two great mare
time powers of Europe are anxious to regain a
footing in the New World, such or something
like that they once enjoyed, we thiuk is every
day becoming more evident.
The United States alone stand in their way,
and it would seem that Providence has im
posed on them the high obligation of main
taining the independence of those States
which have adopted republican institutions,
for on their safety, in a great measure, de
pends their own. By being prepared to sus
tain this position, they will be able to do so,
in all probability, without resorting to actual
war, which will only be provoked by their
remaining defenceless. If we cannot say,
with Patrick Henry, "We must fight, Mr.
Speaker, we must fight!" we should be pre
pared to fight. While human passions sway
the human heart, the hand will obey their im
pulse, and the word be followed by a blow.
Of all the Feta Morgana that ever danced be
fore human vision, that of universal and per
petual peace is the most delusive. The wolf
will never cease to devour the lamb until he
loses his instinct, nor the strong to oppress
the weak until men become angels. Let us,
then, be making preparations in time to main
tain the position which has not been assumed,
but imposed on the republic by destiny; in
other words, by the position in which it has
been placed by the great arbiter of Nations.
Above all, let us not be prevented from com
mencing these preparations by the puerile ob
jection that they are " warlike demonstra
tions." Everybody must see they are net
offensive but defensive measures of prudent
precaution, forced on the United States by the
warlike demonstrations of others. Degraded
below the dead level of degradation must be
that nation which dares not adopt measures
of self-defence in the apprehension of giving
umbrage to its enemies.
Overlook Nothing.
Some persons seem to go through the
world with their eyes shut, others keep them
always open. The latter, at every step, are
adding, to their stock of knowledge, and cor
recting and improving their judgment, by
experience and observations. They keep
their minds ever awake and active, and on
the alert, gathering instruction from every
occurrence, watching for favorable opportu
nities, and seeking, if possible, to turn even
their failures and mischances to their advan
tage. Such persons will rarely have occasion
to say, "I have lost a day," or
"To weep o'er hours that flew
More idly than the summer's wind."
They will make every event the occasion
of improvement, and will find
—.."Books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
To the attentive observer, even nature it
self will appear a vast scroll, written all over
by the finger of God, with instructive, though
sometimes mysterious, characters ; while to
the careless it will seem at best but a blank,
or perhaps a scene of aonfusiou, "without
form or comeliness," possessing little to ex
cite, curiosity or admiration.
To the young especially, would we recom
mend the habits of close and careful obser
vation. We would say to them, "OVERLOOK
NOTHING," do not despise the day of small
things. Endeavor to turn the leisure time
'you may have; the money you may earn or
inherit ; the privileges you may enjoy ; in
short, everything, to the best possible account.
Take care of the minutes and pence, and the
hours and pounds will take care of them
selves. He who learns to regard his leisure
moments as valueless, and habitually squan
ders for trifles the small sums of money he
may have, because they are small, will never
be learned or rich. The secret of success is
to be careful of little things.
"Spend no moment but in purchase ofits worth.
And wl.at its 'worth, usk deathbeds —they can
tell."
Rattle Reads
To make a statement recklessly border
closely upon falsehood. Not that every in
correct report is to be charged as a wilful per
-1 version of the truth. A man can not always
know the exact certainty of what he hears.
He "tells the tale as 'tis told to him." It may
prove to be without foundation, and yet he
be innocent of the blame, for he had no inten
tion to deceive, and no suspicion that he was
misinformed. To such mistakes, all are lia
ble. The Bible declares him to be an honest
man who "who speaketh the truth in his
heart"—that is according to his best knowl
edge and belief.
But the purest integrity requires, not only
that a man should mean well, but that he
should take care not to make mistakes and
blunders. Not only is he to be sincere in
what he is telling, and what he believes, but
' he must take some pains to find out whether
the report is true or false. Otherwise he may
do a great injury simply by his careless state
ment. Without meaning any harm, he. may
spread abroad a most alse and slanderous
report. .
, . This habit of reckless speaking is very
' common, and it is a cause of infinite mis
chief in society. It is not quite as bad as
lying, for it does not spring from the same
base motive. , It is not a malicious misrepre
sentation. It does not indicate a bad heart
so much as a giddiness of mind. It is the
fault of those who "love to hear themselves
wilt." These tattlers and gossips are descri
bed by a significent epithet. They are called
rattle headed—a word which not inaptly de
scribes the loose way in which their thought
are jumbled together, and the vague manner
of their statements. They catch at flying
reports, and spread them without investiga
tion. Let them but hear the faintest whisper
that some strange thing has happened, and
instantly it assumes all the importance of a
well-authenticated event, and they publish it
abroad with circumstantial details. Of course
such busy bodies will never be regarded as
high authority. Their extravagance and
recklessness of language make men suspici
ous, and no one will believe them. Who so,
therefore, would keep his character for integ
rity unstained, let him avoid even an ap
proach to falsehood by hasty and unguar
ded statements.
The Philosophy of Deep Ti lth.
The following common-sense re - marks on
deep tillage, we find in the Editorial Depart
ment of Moores Rion/ New-Yorker, and we
commend them to the attention of our rea
ders—a majority of whom are among the very
best farmers in the United States. If any
one entertains contrary views, we should like
to hear from him.
No one will demur to the position, that the
soil in plowing should be stirred and broken
up to as great a depth as the roots of the crop
grown will penetrate, not only to admit air
and water, but to introduce manures and veg
etable matter for their sustenance. And we
hold, in addition to this admission, that when
the soil is impermeable and retentive in the
least, that it would be greatly improved by
loosening to any depth--even two or six feet,
if it were possible. It would not only dis
pose of a redundancy of surface water in
great falls of rain, but it would lay np a store
of moisture, to be raised by capillary attrac
tion and evaporation, and sent to the surface
in the hot and drouthy months, charged with
the solids and gases held in solution. All the
waters in alluvial and secondary formations,
called hard water, are more or lees charged
with carbonic acid, sulphurous acid, and sul
phuretted hydrogen, all of which exerci se im
portant functions in the vitality of vegetable
ife.
The earth exhales and breathes,—all na
ture breathes and sends out moisture, or odor.
The dry stick of cedar sends out its peculiar
flavor ) in immensely fine particles for years,
and one grain of musk will scent a drawer
for a century. Everything exhales that con
tains evaporable matter. The amount of
evaporation daily from every square foot of
VOL. 11, NO. 41
earth, could hardly be anticipated, or believ
ed, were it not well settled; and if the per
meable soil has no depth to contain free mole
ture, it is soon expended and the plant su f
fere :—when if there was several feet of
open, porous soil, the moisture would in a
great measure be supplied' from below where
the roots could reach. No one will pretend
that eight, or even twelve inches of soil on a
cast iron plate, or smooth, solid rock, would
in ordinary season, be able to perfect any
kind of crop. The most careful irrigation
would be necessary to produce the root or
grain plant. They would need the salubri •
ous breathings of the vapor and gases from
the substratum.
There can be no question, but that the ope
ration of the subsoil plow is eminently bene
ficial in all retentive soils, as it does not bring
up any of the crude and raw earth to the sur
face, but only breaks and trenches those parts
beyond the reach of the turning plow. In
gardening, the most astonishing results are
produced when the earth is worked two spits
deep, especially when manure is thoroughly
mixed to the base of the digging.
In very loose, sandy soils, this ptinciple
will not probably apply as a general rule, to
a greater depth than the manure can be work
ed in, or the roots penetrate. They do not
require manuring below that point, when
they are so open that the falling rain descends
too fast and too low in the earth, and passes
off to the low grounds before the moisture
can produce any very permanent effect,
through evaporation from beneath.
In all cases, in heavy clays and underlying
hard-pans, there cannot be indulged a doubt
but what a loose, porous soil of three feet in
depth, would be a great advantage to any
crop grown on the farm. It would be de
jure a thorough underdraining, and could not
fail of benefitting any crop cultivated.
Clean Your Cellars,
By a beneficial arrrangement of Provi
dence, the gases and odors most prejudicial
to human life, are lighter than the air which
surrounds us, and as soon as disengaged, rise
immediately to the upper atmosphere, to be
purified, and then returned to be used again.
The warmer the weather, the more rapidly
are these gases generated, and the more rapid=
ly do they rise ; hence it is, that in the most
miasmatic regions of the tropics, the traveler
can with safety pursue his journey at mid ,
day, but to do so in the cool of the evening,
or morning, or midnight, would be certain
death. Hence also, the popular but too
sweeping dread of "night air." To apply
this scientific truth to practical life, in refer
ence to the cellars under our dwellings, is the
object of this article.
The ceilings of cellars should be well plas
tered, in order most effectually to prevent
the ascent of dampness and noisome odors
through the joints of the flooring.
The bottom of the cellar should be well
paved with stone, cobble stones are perhaps
best ; over this should be poured, to the ex
tent of several inches in thickness, water
lime cement, or such other material as is
known to acquire in time almost the hard
ness of stone; this keeps out the dampness
of the earth below.
If additional dryness Tv desired for special
purposes,
_in parts of the cellar, let common
scantling be laid down, at convenient, die. ,
tances, and loose boards_be laid across them,
for convenience of removal and sweeping un
der, when cleaning time of the year comes.
The walls should be plastered, in order to
prevent the dust from settling on the innu
merable projections of a common stone wall.
Shelves should be arranged in. the centre of
the cellar, not in the corners, or against the
walls ; these shelves should hang from the
ceiling, by wooden arms, attached firmly be
fore plastering, thus you make all safe from
rats.
To those who are so fortunate as to own
the houses in which they live, we recom
mend the month of April, but to renters, the
month of May, in New-York, at least, the
most appropriate time for the following re
commendations.
Let everything not absolutely nailed fast,
be removed into the yard, and exposed to the
sun, and if you please, remain for a week or
two, so as to afford opportunity for a thorough
drying.
Let the walls and floors be swept thorough
ly, on four ox five different days, and let a
coat of good white-washing be laid an.
These things should be done once a year,:
and one day in the week at least, except in
mid-winter, every opening in the cellar, for
several hours, about noon, should be thrown
wide; so as to allow as complete a ventila=
tion as possible. Scientific men have forced
on the common mind, by slow degrees, the
importance of a daily ventilation of our sleep
ing apartments, so that now, none but the
careless or most obtuse neglect it, but fe .
think of ventilating their cellars, although it
is apparent that the noisome dampness is con
stantly .rising upwards and pervading the
whole dwelling.
Emanations from cellars do not kill in a
night; if they did, universal attention would'
be forced to their proper management, but
it is nen*, from the very nature of things,
that unclean, damp, and mouldy cellars, with
their sepulchral fumes, do undermine the
health of multitudes of families y and send
many of their members to an untimely grave.
—[Hall's Journal of Health, for April.
JOHNTYLER. LECTURING ON THE DEAD OF
HIS CABINET.--The South Side (Va.,), Dem
ocrat states that Ex-President Tyler is about
to deliver a lecture upon" the dead of his
Cabinet." The Democrat ears:
"In that Cabinet were the accomplished
Legare, the elegant and erudite Upahur, the
brilliant Gillms, and those twin giants of
their age, Webster and Calhoun. Scarce ten
years have passed since the illustrious gallery
of statesmen, juriats and scholars filled the
offices of the Cabinet, but one by one the na—
tion has put on mourning for them, and be ,
who gathered them around him to bear with ,
him the great responsibilities of his time, and'
sitare the heavy duties of his post. lives stilt
td speak their eulogism. Need we add that
it will be a tribute worthy even of these
mighty dead."