THB BLKSSIN-G3 OP GOYKRN1IKNT, LIKE THE DEWS OF HEAVEN, SHOULP BE DISTEIBUTKO ALIKE UPON THE HIGH AND TUB LOW, TUB RICH ANO THU POOH. NEW SERIES. EBEXSiilM, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 23, 1833. VOL. 1 AO. J. The DKMOCU.VT & SENTINEL is published every Friday mgruiug, in Ebcnsburg, Cumbria county. Pa., at 1 50 per annum, : aid in adcanee, if not ?2 will be charged. ADVERTISEMENTS will bo conspicuously iuser tei at thc following rates, viz : 1 square 3 insertious $1 t)rt Brtry subsequent itueruoM 25 4 iuare 3 months 3 00 0 " 5 00 " " 1 year . 8 00 $ oluuiu 1 year 30 00 " 18 00 Busiuoss Carda with 1 copy of the Istmocrui $ Smtinrl per year 5 00 Letters wust be post pnid to secure attention. ricjinal Jlortrg. For the Democrat and Sentinel. To Miss E. C . Oh ! tis sweet in a world of deception like this, To find one true heart that to friendship is given, .And feel in its confidence earth's only bliss, That mortals enjoy upon this side of Heaven ; Then turn not away from me that gentle look, That is with affection and tenderness beaming. The world and its follies, we mortals can brook, If lovers and friends are not false to their seeming. Thy heart is as free from all youthful deception, As the spirits that sing around Allah's bright throne, Thy smiles banish sorrow and heartfelt dejection, And happiness reigns where its worth was un known ; The afflicted in anguish seek thy consolation, Contentment to find from remorse's dark power, And leave thee with hearts full of reanimation, As the rose, when refreshed by the gentle spring shower. Excuse me fair maid if in love's gentle strain, I indulge in those words that ate full of emotion, As the Pagan who kneels to his Idol retains Not a thought nor a wish, that can render devo tion ; Like the dove in the tempest in search of repose, My poor wounded spirit is oroy bereft, Then smile on me dearest while here I disclose, That I love you to madness, yes ! orrr the l-ft. AMFJIGIN. tutlts anb j?!itt(bfs. A True Tale of a Funeral. The point of the anecdote we are about to re late would he more appreciated were the parties who figure in it as well known here as they are in the city where the incident occurred. But as it i, it may not prove unamusing to our readers. There is a long-established and well-known club, in a northern metropolis of our country, one of the original members of which is a gentle man of the old school, a man of wealth and leis ure, remarkable for the staid bgnity of his man ners, the primitive regularity of his habits, and his extreme devotion to the club, of which he is exceedingly proud. There he is to be found at almost all hours, making it his home and enjoy ing the comforti! and conveniences it affords with tiM most complacent satisfaction. He is, in some fcort, its oracle in certain matters, and is, more over, the living record of its history from the be ginning, doing its honors to visitors from other places, and keeping up its dignity and character to the best of his ability. One of his strong points is to see to it that on the decease of any one of the members of the club, the funeral is attended by as many of the survivors as possible, so that an occasion of the kind is always sure to be quite an event in its history. Not long ago, one of the most eminent of its number, a gentleman distinguished in the literature of the country, s the author of several interesting and able books of foreign travel, died ; awl, of course, the members of the club determi ned to attend the funeral, several of them, the hero of our tale among the number, being desig nated as pall-bearers. The solemn services were to be performed at one of the principle churches in tho city, and thither, on the afternoon appoin ted, the gentlemen repaired to assist in them- Filtering tho porch, he asked tiie sexton to show him to the place bet apart for the occupancy of tho pall-bearers, and was shown into a pew, W sat a single individual, who happened to he not a liicmkT of the club, but a person who was, for some reason or other, peculiarly obnox ious to our hero, and who, for our present pur pose, may bo considered as entitled to tho cogno men of Jones. Though disappointed at not seeing a brother member in the place designated for him to occu py, rather than Jones, our friend composed him self as well as ho could, under the circumstances, aad paid a decent attention to the service, which commenced immediately after he entered. At the close, the corpse was lifted by the sexton and his assistants, and borne down the. broad aisle of the church, followed by the pall-bearers, Jones and his dignified companion taking the lead. On arriving at the door they found carriages await ing them, the place of sepulture being some four r five miles distant from the city. On entering tb first carriage, the Colonel as we shall call our friend of the club found that his solitary companion on this sad journey was still to be the obnoxious Jones. But with his usual digni ty be suppressed his feelings an. I resolved to make the best of his annoying situation.- He even went so far as to make some corteous re marks to his fellow mourner, talked of the virtues and accomplishments of the eminent deceased, and eloquently and feelingly regretted his loss. Jones, of course, was sympathetic, and the slow and measured ride to the secluded city of the dead was at length concluded. It was not until after nightfall that the funeral cortege reached home. Having dropped Jones at his doiuicil, down town, the Colonel ordered the driver to set him down at the club. Arriv ing, he entered the principle parlor of the estab lishment, where were assembled a goodly number orthe mom hers, reading the evening paper?, smo king segars, or conversing. Taking a seat, he commenced an indignant survey of the party pres ent, and after some time spent in " nursing his Wrath to keep it warm," his pent up feelings found vent in this wise : " Well, gentlemen ! You are a fine set of fel lows to be members of such a club as this ! Am't you ?" " What's the matter now. Colonel ?" exclaimed several at once. " What's the matter ? By ! I have been a member of the Club for five and thirty years, and never saw it disgraced before to day ! Yes, disgraced ! I am ashamed of my member ship in it ! And so you all ought to be of yours !". " But my dear Colonel." said one of the aston ished party, " for what reason ? What has given you offence ? Pray tell us." " I have been a member cf this club five and thirty years, and have buried more than a dozen of its members ; but I never went alone to one of their funerals before to-day. Where were you all this afternoon ? Here was one of the most eminent men in the club, yes, in the world, bur ied to-day ; and the only pall-bearers were my self and that d d Jones !" " Jones ? What Jones' ? We were all at s funeral. We saw no Jones there, nor you either, Colonel. What arc you talking about ?" inter jected several of the gentlemen addressed. " That's all very well," rejoined our irate he ro.," but I looked all over the church and not one of you could I see, to keep me in counte nance. Do you think I would have rode five miles and back again, on a dog trot, in the same coach, with that fellow Jones, if I could have found a gentleman within hailing distance ? AYhat right had such a man as Jones to Ix; there at all ? What did he even know of , who, when alive, would have as soon been seen speak ing to a boot-black as to him ? And a pall-bcar-er, too ! And in the same pew, and the same coach, with io !" " Why, Colonel ! I tell you we were all there. We went down to , and saw the sod piled upon the grave of our lamented brother. It is now long since we returned, and we had not done wondering what could have kept you, of all the members of the club, away from the funeral, when youcamc in in high wrath with everybody, and your story about Jones. There is some mis take heie, Colonel !" A light began to glimmer over the case in the puzzled mind of the excited veteran. Lowering his tone somewhat, he asked slowly : " Do you say, gentlemen, that you attended 's funeral, thi3 afternoon?" " Most assuredly," replied all in a breath. " At St. Thomas' Church ?" " Certainly, and nowhere else!" " To-day ? This afternoon ?" " Of course, Colonel ! of course !" " At 4 o'clock ?" " No ! my dear fellow ! at three .'" " Then, gentlemen, I'm d d if I haven't been at the wrong hum's funeral .''" Feast of the Eaters. No one but a poet could have conceived this most admirable prose poem. A whole volume of thought, food for reflection, is embodied in the beautiful dream ; and the whole is worth further credit than is usually given to daily newspaper articles. The author, William E. McLaren, local editor of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, is a poet of fine promise; and this "Wonderful Supper of the Haters" does him credit. We copy it from the Plain Dealer : There M as once a Supper that was sr5 full of love and glory and divinity that man has ever since commemorated it. It was a supper of Love. The table was surrounded by the holy men whose souls burned with love, and their eyes were all turned upon One Beaming Face, and their hearts drank in the great truths He uttered. It was a sublime scene. Dreams are often not the nicaniuks.s things j we usually think them. A dreamer dreamed one night some weeks ago about a Supper. But it was utterly antipodal to the supper of Love. The table appeared similar, and, in fact, all the ac eomjmnying circumstances seemed the Same. But there was no beaming look of dory no hn gello smile no Godlike brow no heavenly light of eye. Nor did those who sat at the table seem happy. A fiend was nestling in every eye, and lurking in every heart, like a gnawing disease. They did not look at each other as at brothers, nor as at all like of the same race of beings. As each one spoke he scowled. He seemed like a weed of subtlest poison, casting a noxious incense upon the air all about him. There were many, many more at this table than at that where the " beaming face of glory" was. " I hate," said one, " hecasue I love to hate. There's nothing good in this world. I love my selfbut no more no more. I hate everybody becausc because I hate them." " I hate," said a huge, burly, black whiskered fellow, " because men hate me. They have im prisoned me, disgraced me. I'm not innocent, and wouldn't be. So I hate 'em all." A sleek, white-necked, black-clothed, city par son next spoke. " I hate the Rev. Dr. Bobalink because he is more popular than I ; because his church has a taller steeple and a prettier pulpit ; 1-eeause men call him 'pious' and me only 'good.' Besides, he gets $3l0 more salary than I !" And the preacher was about to pray that his hate might le increased, but he was interrupted by a man who sat opposite him. " I hate," said he, " because I cannot help it. I hate man because 1 hate God. I disbelieue ev erything. There is no truth in the world, nor in heaven. There is no heaven and no God. The idea of a future existence is loathsome. Ask me to love men ! Tshaw ! why not a dog as well !" And he struck the tabic an emphatic blow. " No man can measure ray hate," said a red nosed man, with a vacant eye and a nervous arm ; " it might have Ixen different but for rum. I hate man because I have in ado myself a brute. But there's one thing I love love forever thnt's whiskey !" And he seized a bottle of liquid fire, and guzzled a draught to drown memory. A pale woman, in a gaudy dress, said she ha ted man and woman, and God and life. " I am a ruined wretch, without hope in the world, and why should I love ? They have degraded, sha med, and spit upon me. They have led me from virtue's path, and I walk in the ways of hell. I have no soul but hate." , . . Many Others who sat at that horrid supper of Hate told their stories. Occasionally a chorus of curses would rise like a song of fiends. It re minded one of that " wailling and gnashing of teeth" spoken of by llim who once sat at the Supper of Love. The spirit of hate seemed to hang over them like a cloud, and envelop them in a Cimmerian darkness. As they proceeded with their terrible org-, a halo of light seemed to form above them, and, as they looked up, they were struck dumb. Silently a vision of glory was unfolded to their eyes. Far above, they saw a tabic, around which was seat ed thousands of immortals, clothed in the rai ments of immortality. In their midst sate He, whom ther crowned in thorns and spat upon. Golden letters glittered in the clouds around the vision, and the terror-stricken haters read such words, as these : "Goo is Love" " Love one Another" " Come unto mk all te that are weary axb heavy laden, an'!) i will give you REST." The Haters fell upon their knees, and, as the dream ended, they were praying. fiZz A Yorkshire huntsman, in trying to prove that " the fox is the farmers best friend," states some interesting, though inconclusive facts. He says : " In Yorkshire, there are ten packs of fox hounds, one pack of stag hounds, and rive or six of harriers, equal in all to thirteen or fourteen packs of fox hounds. Thirteen packs of fox hounds, of fifty couple each namely, twelve hundred hounds, consume annually two hundred tons of oatmeal, at the cost of two thousand and six hundred pounds, besides the carcasses of about two thousand dead horses, worth nothing, if no hounds were kept- There are at least one thousand hunting men in Yorkshire, kecpingnp on an average four torses each ; four hundred hor ses will cost them two hundred thousand pounds, at fifty Tpounds each ; and their keeper at fifty pounds per annum, makes two thousand pounds more, four thousand horses employ two thousand men as grooms, generally the offspring of the agricultural population, and consume annually forty thousand quarters of oats, two thousand quarters of leans, and eight thousand tons of hay and grass. U fox hunting was given up, where would the farmer find a market for tlic above produce, or for a well bred horse of four or five years old! "Foxes are the farmer's friends." Some people would infer from the above state ment that foxes are the farmer's worst enemies ; since farmers earn the greater part or the vast sum required to keep the fox hunting system go ing, and pay it in the form of rent i Mr. DaiESBAcn Injured Br a Pet Tiher. On Saturday evening, at the Broadway Theatre, New York, Mr. Driesbach, as usual, entered the den, in which were a lion, three leopards, a lion ess, and a Brazilian tiger, for the purpose of ex hibition. Scarcely, however, had he commenced the performance, when, from some unforeseen cause, the tiger sprang at Mr. Driesbach. The unexpected attack threw him from his feet, and the beast instantly fastened his teeth upon the breast of Mr. Driesbach and the claws upon the other part of his IkkI-. The lioness, observing the attack, took the part of her master, and pitched into the tiger ; but in doing so she un luckily missed the tiger, and struck Mr. Dries bach a powerful blow with her paw, v hich only tended to increase the difficulty already pending. Mr. Moffit, the principal attendant during the ex hibition, kept the other animals back from enter ing into the meelce, as they seemingly felt inclin ed to do so ; at the same instant he opened the door., and In main iv j g.p'cJ .Mr. Driesbach from the den. He was immediately conveyed to a private room, and a physician sent for to dress the injuries, which, on examination, proved only to be flesh wounds. The turer is a pet animal, but had not been exhibited for three months, and it is supposed the gas light and the crowd of spectators confused and excited him, which led to the attack. Thinking Aloud. The couurc of true love never does run smooth. A young gentleman of our acquaintance lately found it so ; and, as he thought to punish the hesitating fair one, rushed off and married himself t another. He was a splendidly handsome fellow. The subject being talked of at some party, one or the company said, " Was it not very suddon ? I did not know that ho was even acquainted with her." He was a foolish fellow, and being angry with Miss Smith, determined to marry the first girl he met in his pique !" a young lady who was present, innocent ly exclaimed: "Odear me, I wish he had met me in his qique !" We never heard of a better specimen of thinking aloud. fty One summer evening a gentleman called upon a lady an acquaintance of his. After the compliments of thc evening the extreme heat, &;., she expressed her surprise at his appearing in slippers, despite his assertions as to their su perior comfort. She continued her argument as to their great want ot taste, and concluded by saying that, " As for her, she did not like to see a gontlomau having anything on but loots!" Psi Upsilon Society. The alxjtve named fraternity, composed of grad uates and students from the leading Colleges in the United States, meet together each year, and celebrate their anniversary. Their last festival, the twentieth annual one, was held at Cam bridge, Massachusetts, in Jul- last. The sauce, sentiment and song were quite piquant and spi cy, of which the following, delivered on the occa sion by the wit and poet, John G. Saxe, Esq., is a good specimen : ".. . A TOST-PRANDIAL TOEM. Deir Brethren, who sit round this lountiful board. With excellent viands so lavishly stored, That, in newspaper phrase 'twould undoubted ly roan. If groaning were but a convivial tone. Which it is'nt and, therefore, by sympathy led. The table, no doubt, is rejoicing instead. Dear Brethren-, 1 rise and it won't be surpri - sing If you find me, like bread, all the be-tter for rising I rise to express my exceeding delight In our cordial re-union, this glorious night. And invoke every blessing a true-hearted bro ther In fullness of feeling could do for another ; And here let me pause for a moment, to say In a negative, less than in a positive way, (Like a parson beginning his doctrinal task) What a blessing for each I could specially ask; May you never get in love or in debt, with a doubt As to whether or not you will ever get out ; May you ne'er have a mistress who plays the coquette, Or a neighbor who blows on a crar k'd clarionet ; May you learn the first use of a lock on your tloor, And ne'er like Adonis, be killed by a We ; Shun canting and canters with resolute force, A " canter" is shocking, except in a horse : At jovial parties mind what you are at. Beware of your head and take care of your hat, Lest you find that the favorite son ot your mo ther Has an ache in the one and a brick in the other; May you never, I pray, to worry your life, Have a weak-minded friend, or a strong-minded wife ; A tailor tlistrustful, or partner suspicious ; A dog that is rabid, or nag that is vicious ; ' Above all the chief blessings the gods can im part May you keep a clear head and a generous heart, Remember, 'tis blessed to give and forgive; Live chiefly to love, and love while you live, Andxlying, wheu life's little journey is done, . May your last, fondest sigh, be Psi Upsilon. -On Vacant Chair. We were talking, a few days since, with an es teemed friend of ours, who was reared after the good old New England fashion, and with whom " Thanksgiving," as a matter of course, is an in stitution, a day of family reunion, of domestic and social rejoicing. He is a man of noble sym pathies and a big heart. In speaking of the com ing Thanksgiving day, a cloud passed over his features, and a tear gathered in his eye. " I have," said he, " for many years gathered my family around me on that day. All my children have sat with me at my annual feast, and it nev er occurred to me that it could ever be otherwise. We ate, drank, and were merry, without think ing that a change must one day come. But that change has already come. At our annual ban quet this year, there will be one vacant chair. It is a sad, sad thought. Sorrowful memories come clustering around the heart, at the mention of that " one vacant chair." The pleasant fea tures, the happy smile, the cheerful voice of the loved and the lost, come like a vision of sweet ness from the sorrowful past. The pale still face, the marble brow, decked with the garlands of the grave, follow, and the eye dims with tears as the vision vanishes away, and the palpable presence only is left of that " one vacant chair." And So it irr, aud so it will be always. Year by year those that we love elrop from around us. Some arc snatched away by death, going elown in the bloom of their beauty to the city of death. Some swing out into tht great woild, and are Ihhiio by the currents of life faraway from us. The day of annual reunion cynics we father round the yearly banquet we look for the cher ished faces we listen for the loved voices: but the heart swells, and the big tear trembles on the eyelids, for there, in the midst or that cherished circle, in the very place where erne who nestled fondliest in our affections used to sit, is ' one va- We who sit at the head of tliesc family ft-asfs, should never forget that one day ire shall be ab sent from the banquet. The time will surely come when we shall cease to occupy a place there. We know not when the vacancy may occur, but as surely as time rolls on, as surely as human destiny is sweeping onward and onward, always towards eternity, so surely will the day of our departure ccme ; and struggle as we may, resist as we may, as all the aggregated energies of na ture may, we must pass from among the living, and leave behind us for the next gathering, "one vacant chair." CCTOnc of the ladies connected with thc "Meth odist Five Toints Mission," who has under her charge some thirty little boys, called them to gether on the morning of Thanksgiving day, to perfect them in their answers to questions she intended asking them wlun be fore the visitors during thc afternoon. After arranging them pro perly, the first boy on the right, in answer to the question, " Who made you ?" was heard to ray, " God." Thc next, " Of what were you made ?" replied, "Thc dust of tho earth," and soon, : through the Catechism. Thc all-importaht mo ment having arrived, thc little " shavers " were told to stand up. Thc little head boy, itsccins, was missing, but the fact not being noticed by the teacher, she proceeded with the question, " Who made you ?" which elicited thc lollowing laughable answer, " I was made out of the dirt of thc 'ert ; but thc little fellow what God made, has got the belly-ache, and gone home." A Yankee at the Crystal Palace. ; A writer in the Journal of Commerce relates the following ; i As we were sitting iu the picture gallery of the j Crystal Palace, taking memoranda of itscontents , a tall ill-dressed Vcnnonter attracted probably j by the benignity of our visage, addressed us: " Stranger what mought they charge to ht a feller in this er'c show " Why do you ask ; you paid at the entrance, did you not ?" " Ya-a as ! I did n't iiy nothin', t-f yew see anythin' green 'bout me jest write, will yew ?" "How did you gain admittance, then ?" " Wa-a-all, yew see I traded with a boy out there for a Herald, and gin him an extra cent to holler " fire !" and when the man with the brass j thing on his coat looked around, I kinder dged in behind him." Of course we expressed our indignation, and were about to leave him, when he seized our but ton hole, saying, quickly : "Say, Mister; don't le riled; guess tliey'U never miss it. Yew talk so all-fired honest, guess you must be a newspaper feller ; been takin' note., ain't you? I've heard 'bout this short hand." We assented ; and he resumed : " Mought your name be Grecly, Mister ? be cause I send a uiggar wench looked jest like a twpitive nigger, and if she is, it's a bully chance for you to spread won't cost nothiu", nuth er." We denied thai iuipula'ioft, when he continu ed: " I allers like newspaper chaps, cause tliey're so clever. Been in the fine arts myself; taught school thre-c winters eighteen dollars a month and boarded Ycoemd." We wst stopped to view the fine sprc.invens of perfumery, among which were busts made of sol id sonp. " IIulo !" said Yankee, nosing the goods, " guess these is made of grave stun, ain't they ?" "No they are made of soap." Before we could prevent him he had pinched it to satisfy himself. " Wa a-al guess it is, it feels soporiferous, any way ; smells rale apocryphal tew, don't it f jtstlike old Mr. Slocum's 'pothe cary shop tew hum.' A few steps brought us to the statuary, where a number of persons were silently gazingat Pow ers' statue of the Greek Slave. " Mister," said he, after a moment's inspection, pointing to the chains upon her wrists, " wkafs that critter hcpplcd fort" The bystanders roared ; and we endeavored to explain to him tlie nature of the subject ; and to prevent him from handling it as lie was bent upon doing; pointed to the placard requesting visitors " not to touch the articles." " Don't touch the articles'.'''' repeated he, "irhy she ain't pot the first darned article on her'.'' We left. An Insinuation. A friend gave us the other day a fine specimen of delicate insinuation. Two fellows were quarrelling one day, one of them being dark-hided. After seme wrangling a fi-iend of Fairskin'stcppcd up to him and told him to tell tho other fellow that he had nigger blood in his veins- I hate to do so," said Fairskiu. You can itisinunle, 1 reckon !" replied the other. "liook here!" said Fairshin. addressing his antagonist, " I say nothiu' agin you or your blood. All I've got to say is th if they'll dig down four feet, wharyour grandfather was buried, they'll find wool." T!7" " My son, take the jug and fetch me some beer." " (iive me some money, then, father." " My son, to get beer with money, anylody can do that ;' but to get it without money, that's a trick." So the ly look the jug, and out lie goes. Shortly he returns and places thc jug lfoi-c his i father. ' Drink," said the son. ' How can I drink when there is no Uvr in the jug if" said the. father. " To drink beer out of a jug," said the son, " wheu there is beer, anylody can do that ; but, to drink beer out of a jug, when there is no beer, that's a trick !'; The Knickerlocker tells a good story of a little fellow who was forbidden by his mother going to the brook to swim. One day he broke her command, and in patting on his shirt he got the wrong side out. His mother quickly discov ered this, and knowing he had beeii disobeying her orders, she asked how his shirt came inside out ? This vis a (dumper under which thc little rogue stagpere-el for a moment, but brightening up he replied triumphantly, " O ! I I guess I turned it gettin over the fence!" Fear. In a gambling room at Cairo, Illinois, old Mr. Maguire quarrelled with a green young man, and aimed an empty gun at him. The young man, to thc delight of thc spectators, ran round the room crying murder until he Was cor nered, when heelrew his bowic knife and cut thc old man into mince meat; Such was the effect of fear on a coward. . it ' (XlrThe amiably is a duty most certainly, but must not be cxercise-d at thc expense of any of the virtues. He who seeks to elo the amiable al ways, can only be successful at the frequent ex pense of his manhood. CC7Thc true poet is he who finds for thc uni versal thought and feeling the becoming lan guage. J7 He who labors for mankind, w ithout a care for himself, haj already begun his immortality. SUritultur.u. Curing lVIe&tp. Mr. Ixlitor. I will tnkc the responsibility e-t answering E. Langdon's inquiry propo:, d iu your May number: ' Iieiw to salt pork as t keep." My plan is this, and I havu kept Lols twenty years ; it has never failed : Cut your pork up, the sides rUarof the rilki, six inches wkk' ; K?t it lie over nidit. Nvxt day salt as follows : Sprinkle the bottom of the bar rel with coarse salt Turk's island, or some oth er good kind put in a layer of meat set tin edge, packed together as close as possible ; then anoth er layer ef salt under, so on till your meat is all in thc LamL Thcn 1 ,Mke c(mmon eastern or laU sah as it is called, and make a brine as strong ai it can be made ; let it stand two or three dava and then jour off the clear brine, and put it on the meat and tlien it is safe. Kevp it under th brine by placing a weight on it. One hutdiel of coarse salt is enough for the side meat of bin good hogs. After trying almost all methods to kce-p smok ed hams without success, I have for the last (bur years kept thwn with complete success by th following plan : Put a layer of fine, dry charcoal, then layer of hams, then charcoal and so on. No bugs, nor skippers, nor mould ever touch thein. Keep in a dry and cool place and they will keep erfectty sweet, if in goenl order when put down. Prm e Former. A. B. TikncK. Training of Trees. The editor of the Horticultural Hwiew, Says : Trees with low heads do bear sooner and bet ter, and will lear longer, than whip stalks and bean poles. In our prairies, low headed trees are the only ones that can hold up their hcas, or hold on their fruit. They are naturally shaped Fruit Bearers, b-.it they are miserably unpopular with that class of purchasers, who know more about tree's, than the men who raise them." This is a most important subject ; and fru'.l growers will never repent but once, if they prune their trees up high. Like most others we be-gan so too ; and it has inflicted one jHTpetual Borrow upon us. The low tree is heithiT, not subject to inflictions of the birds or insects, not injurvJ by wind, the fruit is easier gathered ; In fact, ev ery reason is in favor of low growth. We now try to fonn a head not higher than three feet from the ground, for apples, letting the branches grow out. Don't Sell Your Best Stock, Don't allow those speculators or drovers to pick out the likeliest and best of your stock, lea ving you only the poorest and ordinary to breed from. I t is the worst policy you can adopt. By continuing such a course, it will be but a short time Wore you will have only poor and Ordinary to select from. Supposing you cua get a little more for those likely Iambs than for others, you will do well to remember that it costs no more to keep them than it tltes poor ones : and next shearing time the large fleeces will tell thft story in favor of keeping the best you have. Ifyou intend to make a practice of raising a colt every year, keep the best mare you can af ford. Havn't you noticed that when a man comes to purchase a young horse he is always particular to know all about the stork, etc., befre he con cludes his Iraiic if Kevp the best, then, for your self. Don't sell your best cow Iwcause you can ft five dollars mure tor her. Keep her, H:iJ she e il! more than mak? up the difference ere another year comes around. Just so with everything. Select tiie best seed for your own use, and you will always have as good as any one, and bcselro ot the hif;!i-st prices for any you wish to dispos of. Think of it. Wbrih Trying. Have any of our farmers tried the fallowing plan of keeping dogs away from their sheep? Let ine publish to the sheep raising world a remedy against iho destruction of .hrcp !j dofrs, which was eiven me a short time since by a high ly respectable and valued friend, himself an exten sive wool grower. It consists simply in placing on one sheep in every ten of the flock a Wil tho usual size for sheep. Thc reasoning of my frieud is th's : The instinct ef the dog prompts him to do all his acts in a stealthy manner his attack upon sheep is most fre-quently made at night, while they are at rest, and thc sudden and sim ultaneously jingling of thc bells will lead to their cxpesure. Tlic importance of sheep preservation from dogs the writer hojies, will claim for this communication an insertion in most of the paper of thc Union, that a remedy so cheap and simple may be fullv te ted. To Roast a GeK)sE, Pick, sinire, and wash the goose. Stuff the Uxly with mashed potato, chopped onions, salt, pepper, a little clove, a very little piece of butter, a little pounded crack er, and a beaten egg. Only a little onion as sea soning. Truss as you do thc turkey. It will baste itself, and of course needs no butter. Put flour and water iu thc dripping pan t !ron. for gravy. Make a giblet gravy, the same a for turkey. Boil the neck of both goose and turkey for giblet gravy. It takes an hour to roast a common sized goose. For Cimxej Wouxos in Smew. Take thc leaves of the Elder tree, and make a decoction, and wash the parts injured from one to three, times a day and you will noe ue xrouuicu w u liies or worms on the wound. It also re-move fever from the wound, and is healing. German town Telegraph. Tj' Will is the root, knowledge the stem and leave, aud feeling the flower. r