9.7-- . •
-,:dAl:4-tin(j/b1,114
BY JAS. CLARK.
CHOICE PONIVIIII.
From the N. Y. Home Journal
APRIL.
UT NATHANIEL T. \CILIA.
I have found Violets. April hath come oh,
And the coelminds feel softer, and the rain
Falls in the. beaded drops of stimmer time.
You may hear birds at morning, and at eve
The tante dove lingers till the twilight fulls,
doing upon the caves, std drawing in
. . _
liis beautiful bright neck, and, from the hills,
A Murmur like the hoarseness of the set
Tells the release of waters, and the earth
i3ends up a pleasant smell, and the dry leaf es
Are lifted by the grass; and so I know
That Nature, with her delicate ear, hath.haistil
The droopping of the velvet foot of Spring.
Take of my violets ! I found them where
The liquid &kith stole d'et thent, on a bank
That leati'd td running water. There's hi the
A daintidess about these early flowers
That tonches hie like poetry. They blow
With such a simple loveliness among
The common herbs of pasture, and breathe oitt
Their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts
Whose beatings are too gentle for this world.
I love to go in the capricious days
.
Of April and hunt violets when'the rain
Is in the blue cups trembling, and they nod
So gracefully to the kisses of the wind.
It may be oleem'd too idle, but the young
Read nature like the manuscript of heaven,
And call the flowers its poetry. tIo out
Ye spirits of habitual unrest,
_
Anil read it when the " fever of the world "
ltattimade your hearts impatient, and, it lif e
]lath yet one spring nnpoison'd, it will be
Like beguiling music to its Flow,
And you will no more wonder diet I love
To hunt for violets in the April time.
SELECT MISCELLANY.
[From the Louisville Literary Messenger.]
THE FOREST MURDER.
A TALE OF INDIANA
The incidents which I am about to relate are
not drawn from imagination, but fact. They
form an act of the never ending drama of human
villainy.
I. This is indeed a wild night," said Charles
Gray to his wit'e, as they sat before the blazing
hearth of an Indian lOg cabin, whilst the winds
wailed around the roof and went sounding through
the forest.
Wilder than ever I knew," observed his
wife. "Charles, how thankful we should be to
our Maker that he has given us this warm fire
and close cabin to protect us from the rude ele
ments."
" Thankful," and Charles Gray assumed a
scowl, which 9f itself spoke the demon in his
heart. "Thankful, wife you mock me. What
is this cabin to the luxurious comfort of the
town folks whom we used to see in New York,
rolling through the streets in their cushioned car
riages, or reclining on silk sofas and laughing at
the beggars that claimed their charity. Thank
ful!"
Mary did not reply. She feared him when in
these moods, and was too judicious to irritate
him even by words, though breathed from a
seraph's lute, or syllabeled by angel's lips, to
one whose soul has become absorbed in the un
hallowed love of wealth.
Charles Gray was a native of New York, and
had been left a handsome fortune—but prompted
by avarice, and too impatient to continue in the
safe business which he began, joined others of
an equally rapacious disposition in speculation
whirl, at first proved promising, but entirely fail
ed, and left many an ardent dreamer a ruined
man. Charles in this mad rinir had embarked
his all. He was left without house or friends,
for friends are often bound with golden chains
alone. Idle determined, with his wife, to emi
grate to Indiana, for whose fertile soil, broad
streams, genial climate and noble forests so
much was said.
With a bitter spirit he bade farewell to home,
and with a small amount of money, raised by
the sale of his wife's jewels, sought the almost
untrodden wilds of the west. With a small
amount of cash, he purchased a few acres of
ground on the Ohio river, where the beautiful
town of is now standing. For a short
period lie labored assiduously at his small farm,
and cheered by the smiles of a lovely and devo
ted wife, seemed to forget his misfortune. A
short time before our narrative opened, Charles
visited L- as a hand on a flat boat, the on
ly species of water-craft then used to convey
goods and produce down the river. Whilst he
was there he met several of those who had fail
ed in the same speculation, which had ruined
himself. But whilst he had remained poor, they
had by some means revived their fortunes and
settled on the Ohio, where they were carrying
on a brisk business. Charles returned home an
altered man. For whale days he would sit idle
and discontented. His sleep was disturbed by
dreams of gold; in vain did the beautiful and
uncomplaining wife endeavor to frighten the
fiend from his bosom. It was like one solitary
star trying to dissipate the darkness of the storm
tossed ocean.
Wilder yet rolled the storm through the crack
ing woods ; anti Charles was still brooding over
imaginary wrongs, when a "hallo," was heard
outside the little enclosure which surrounded
the cabin.
Mary sprang to the door and after scrutinizing
the traveller, for such the intruder was, by the
light of a dark torch which she held over her
head, invited him into her rustic home.
In a momenta gentleman of rather slight stat
ure, bearing a portmanteau in his hand, entered
and gave the usual salutation. Mary called for
her 'hosliand to attend the traveller, but neither
by word or gesture did he eihibit signs of hav
ing heard her, until the stranger's portmanteali
touched the floor, spoke to his sordid soul of
gold. The demon was aroused, but he wore a
!nailing face,
WelcoMe stranger, Welctine," exclaimed
Gray in so hurried and strange a manner that the
stranger started back a few paces in surprise;
but quickly recovering himself, exchanged salu
tations and seated himself on a rude chair, al
ready placed for his convenience before the fire.
Conversation soon commenced, nor was it in-
I terrupted Until the night had far advanced to-
Wards the dawn. George Somers was also, he
said, a native of New York, and from the neigh
borhood in which Charles Gray had lived. He
informed dray that lie sold his property at the
east and emigrated to "El Dorado," to specu
late in lands, having with him a large amount of
money fOr that pthrpose.
At last they all retired to rest. 'The traveler
to aleep=ttray to brood over the wealth of his
guest. What fearful thoughts passed through
the brain of the wretch, that night. How often
did his eye wander to the hunting knife. Once
he was abotit leaving the bed, when a ',light mo
tion of his wife in her slumber deterred him
fern his murderous intent. Who but the pen
cil of the demon could paint the fears—the
hopes—the dark resolves of the *retched Gray
while the wearied guest slept but a few paces
from him, in that peace which virtue and weari
ness alone call give.
The morning came and gloWing from his
ocean couch, arose the son, gilding the distant
bluffs and surrounding forests with colors drawn
alone from the pallet of heaven. Ilia beams
shown down upon the cottage yet unstained
with human blood, and aroused the sleepers.—
Did the evil spirit slumber in Gray's bosom 1
The simple breakfast was soon over, and
Somers asked Gray to set him on the nearest
wry to 'VI—. With the blandness worthy
the days when lie stood a respectable merchant
behind a city desk, he informed Somers that he
would accompany him a part of his journey, and
under pretence of killing some game, shoulder
ed his rifle and 1.1 the way. For some time
they walked together, whilst renewing boyhood
remembrances—remembrances which called to
mind many a spot hallowed by childhood sports
and parental affection.
They had thus proceeded about three miles, and
arrived among those beautiful binn on the Ohio
since rendered celebrated by a deed Which has
given a name to a small crystal stream which
dasheciover a precipice some hundred feet deep.
A bird swept over their heads, and wheeling on
its light wing lighted on a bough of a majestic
oak—which bears the name of many an ardent
lover of nature. Gray asked the traveller to
move on while he attempted to bring down his
game. Somers complied, and unsuspecting left
Gray behind.
A sharp rifle-crack ran through the woods and
a shriek mingled with its echoes. The host was
a murderer for money. Mood may be shed for
revenge, and our sympathies may be excited for
the assassin, But who can find a chord in his
heart from which pity may draw a note of feel
ing for him, who with blood-stained fingers holds
the glittering coin before his eyes I
Gray soon disposed of the body by hurling it
over the precipice. As it went lumbering through
the scrubbed and jagged rocks that lined the
chasm he perhaps felt remorse, but it was only
for a moment. With eager hands he opened the
poi tmanteamand rolling out the shining coin upon
the leaves, for some minutes he gloated over his
Wealth ; for the country was almost uninhabited,
and his demon spirit could rejoice over its rich
es undisturbed,
On returning home, he deposited his ill•gotten
gold in the chest. His wife heard the ringing of
the coin and her toick mind told her that Charles
Gray, her husband, lie to whom her heart had
confided, was a murderer. She fainted. This
wretch heeded her not, but gloomily seated him
self before the fire. From the floor on which
she had fallen, Mary rose an altered woman,—
The rose tied from her cheek and a grave in the
forest marked by a single stone, tells you where
lies the broken-hearted wife. Peace to her mem
ory ! She is gone where the blue streams are
never crimsoned with blood—where the dagger
never flashed over the head of the devoted way
farer.
Charles Gray became a rich man. His lands,
broad and fertile, bore luxuriant harvests. A
tall mansion rose among these old woods, to
shelter the murderer's head. Strange to say he
lived unsuspected. No one cared for the emi
grant in the country from which he came.
Years rolled on away. Villages arose on the
ruins of that mighty forest. The steamer was
heard with its perpetual thunder and lightning
ascending the Ohio, lovely residences, like gems,
summoned upby the enchanter's wand from the
earth's bosom, studded the banks of the silent
river. The auspicious mind of Gray, (for the
wicked are always suspicious) rendered him
fearful of discovery, as emigrants were crowd
ing the State, and entered the lands in the most
frequented spots. The bones of Somers were
still exposed ; if they were found by any one
rambling through the bluffs, the dark affair
might be investigated and he meet with his just
deserts. Sallying lorth one evening, he sought
the wild precipice, and descended by the aid of
ropes to the spot where laid his victim. The
moon burned in the midnight with the lustre
which she only wears on a winter night when
HUNTINGDON, PA., TUESDAY, APRIL 16,
the snow reflects its brightness, and earth seem
ed to wear the pearly tubes of angels. One by
eine the stars had appeared through the arch a
bove, and around the hills that swept the river,
for nature is still lovely, tho' for a few months
hrr beautiful form may bear the record of crime
placed there b.y man. A young gentleman nam
ed Wilson, who was returning from a visit to
his "lady-love," passed by the precipice, and
observing the ropes attached to a tree which
stood by his path, endeavored to trace the spot
where they ended. After a narrow search he
foetid them hanging against the rock which form
ed the basis of a chasm round which the waters
swept their crystal current.
In'a few moments the ydang man perceived
the form of one whom he immediately recogni
zed as Gray, from his tall muscular figure. lle
was gathering up some white substance in a bag.
At last he seemed to have completed his task,
and throwing the bag over his shoulder attached
the strings to his neck and body, and commen
ced the ascent. By grasPing the rocks with his
hands whenever they afforded a sufficient pro
truding surface—and planting his foot firmly in
the fissures, Gray had succeeded in climbing
half way up the chasm, when stopping to rest,
the slielvy rock crumbled under his feet. The
murderer made a violent struggle to sustain his
position, but losing his balance he plunged Into
the golf.
One wild shriek told that the wretch had gone
to judgment. "Retribution" had pealed forth
from the throne df God, and the spirit of Gray
stood before its Maker.
I Family in Ileaveu►
A family united is Heaven! It is pos.titsle'
that there may be such an eternal union. It is
not necessary that religiOn should make an
eternal separation. There is nothing in the
nature of Christianity, which naturally and ne
cessarily demands this. There is no such adap
tion of the gospel to one member or portion of
a family only, as to make such a result inevita
ble : there is no restricting the offer of salvation
to the father, the mother, or to one of the child
ren of the family ; there is no limitation of the
efficacy of the atonement which makes it possi
ble that the blood which saves one should save
all; there is no such circumscribing of the
power of the IToly Spirit, that he can renew and
sanctify only a pc rtion of the family group. The
blood which has been sprinkled on one heart
may cleanse all ; the same spirit that has renew
ed and sanctified the father or mother is able to
renew and sanctify each child; and the same
grace of the gospel which prepared that loved
and lovely sister who has been taken from you
to walk by the aide of the river of life in white
raiment, can prepare you also to join with her
and walk arm in arm on those shady banks.
Look upward to yonder heavens. See there
your smiling babe. It stretches out its hands
and invites you. Come, father, mother—come
sister, brother," in its sweet sound, come and
take the water of life."
A whole family united in religion—what a
spectacle of beauty on earth ! A family lying
side by side in their graves, to be united again
in the same blessed resurrection, what a spec
tacle for angels to look down upon with interest?
A whole family united in heaven, who can
describe their everlasting joys Not one is
absent. Nor father, nor mother, nor son, nor
daughter, Is away. In the world below they
were united in faith, and love, and peace, and
joy. In the morning of the resurrection they
ascended together. Before the throne they bow
together in united adoration. On the banks of
the rivet of life they have commenced a career
of glory which shall be everlasting. There is
to be hereafter no separation in that family. No
one is to lie down on a bed of pain. No one is to
wander away into temptation. No one Is to
sink into the arms of death. Never in heaven
is that family to move along in the slow proces
sion, clad in the habiliment of woe, to consign
one of its members to the tomb. God grant of
his infinite mercy that every family may be thus
united.=-Ree. Alert Barnes.
Unwise Men.
The following are a few of the characters
coming under this head :
The jealous man; who poisons his own banquet,
awl then eats it.
The miser; that starves himself to death, that
his heirs may feast.
The mean man ; who bites off his own nose,
to despite a neighbor.
The angry man; Who sets his own house on
fire, that he may burn up another's.
The slanderer; who tells tales, and gives his
enemy a chance to prove him a liar.
The self conceited man; who attaches more
consequence to dignity than to common sense.
The proud man ; who falls in the estimation
of sensible observers, in proportion as he rises
in his own,
The envious man ; who cannot enjoy life and
prosperity, because others do.
The dishonest men ; who cheats his own soul
more vitally than he does his fallow-men.
The robber ; who for the consideration of
dollars and cents, gives the world liberty tc hang
him.
The drunken man; who not only makes him
cell wretched, but disgusts his friends.
The hypocondriac ; whose highest happiness
consists in rendering himself miserable.
The inconsiderate man who NEGLECTS TO
rAY TIIE FRINTEI,
THE TEST OF LOVE.
"The hand that wiped away the tear of want,
The heart that melted at another's woe,
Were his, and blessings followed him."
David Wentworth had the kindest of hearts.
There was no bound to his benevolence, except
inability. And happy is any man who has a
tithe of the prayers that were daily offered up
for the welfare of my friend, by the unfortunate
and wretched whom his hand had relieved.
I speak of prayers, for they were the only re.
word he obtained—l mean here r but I forget.
David was paying his attentions to an excel
lent rung lady of his native city. She was
wealthy, beautiful and accomplished, and conse
qnently had many suitors. Among them were
richer, and nobler, (in extraction I mean,) and
handsomer men than David Wentworth ; but,
teimporte, there was a kind of frank-heartedness
about my friend that could not fail to bring him
somewhere near the heart of his mistress, even
if an emperor had been his rival.
the young lady hit upon a project to put the
characters of her lovers to the test. She had
found a poor widow with a family, in distress,
in one of her benevolent excursions, and the idea
occurred to her that it would be a good oppor
tunity to ascertain what sort of stuff her lovers'
hearts were made of. Letters were forthwith
indited, setting forth the good woman's tale,
and forwarded to the different gentlemen in the
widow's name, requesting an answer and assist
ance.
The first reply was a lecture on idleness and
begging, and concluded with the information
that the writer was not accustomed to give to
those he did not know. This was from a $lO,-
000 a year. The second advised her to apply
to some of the benevolent societies, Whose
business It was to relieve those who were truly
in want. This was from one who had a great
reputation for benevolence- , —who had taken a
leading part in the several charitable associa
tions, and whose pharisaical liberality had been
blazoned in the newspapers. The lady thought,
that, interested as he was in the success of those
institutions, he displayed a very commendable
reluctance about taking the business out of their
hands. A third, from a good hearted and gener
ous kind of fellow, enclosed her a five dollar bill,
with his compliments. Several took no notice
of the poor woman's petition. But there was
another answer which the lady read with far
different feelings. It was from David—grom
$BOO a year ; and I need not say that it was,
like himself, kind and consoling. It spoke of
the writer's narrow means, and concluded by
requesting an interview. If," said he « I find
myself otherwise unable to afford the assistance
you require, I trust I may be of service in in
teresting others in your behalf."
Nor was this mere profession ; for it was but
a few weeks before the widow found herself
comfortably located, and engaged in a thriving
little business commenced by the recommenda
tion, and carried on by the aid of my friend.
And all thus was done in a genuine scriptural
style. There was no sounding of trumpets—
and the right hand knew not the doings of the
left. But his lady-love was a silent observer
of his conduct, and he received many a kind
glance from that quarter, of which he never sus
pected the true cause. She began to think that
the homage of a spirit like his was not to be
despised; and she felt something very much
like a palpitation of the heart, as she questioned
herself respecting his intentions.
Such was the train of thought which was one
evening, as is often the case, interrnpted by a
call from the person who had been the cause.
Hour after hour passed by that night, and still
David lingered. He could not tear himself away.
t , She is a most fascinating creature," thought
he, as and good as she is beautiful. Can she ever
be mine 7 " and a cloud came over his features,
and he sat for a moment In silence,
"This suspense must be ended," he at length
thought. He started as the clock tolled eleven.
a You will certainly think me insufferably te
dious," said he with a faint smile, 44 but I have
been no pleasantly engaged as to take no note of
time; and the sin of this trespass on the rules
of good breeding must lie at your door. Besides,
I have lengthened this visit," he confirmed after
a pause, " under the apprehension that as it has
been the happiest, it might also be the last it
may ever be my good fortune to enjoy with
Miss H."
The lady looked at him with some surprise
Nay," said he, the matter rests with
yourself. Will you forgive my presumption I
I know that others, perhaps more worthy of
you, at least nobler and wealthier, and higher
in the world's esteem, are striving for the honor
of your hand. And yet I cannot restrain myself
from making an avowal which, though it may
be futile, is yet but a deserved tribute to your
worth.
The lady did not swoon or turn pnle. But a
flush of gratification passed over her lace, and
lighted her eyes for a moment.
She frankly gave him her hand and looked up
archly in his face. " The friend of the father
less and the widow," she said, (David blushed,)
" cannot fail to make a constant lover and hus
band."
"Am I not a little pate ? " inquired a lady,
who was rather short and corpulent, of a crusty
old bachelor.
„ You look more like a big tub” was the blunt
reply.
) , . . i,
OWCltgli, . •
850.
The Nothees Last Prayer.
How true it is that early impressions
are as lasting as life. A word—a smile
-a frown or prayer—how often do they
enter the soul of the attentive child, and
leave images amid its hidden shrines.—
The word may have been thoughtlessly
uttered—the frown unmeaningly bes
towed--but it matters not it is remem.
bored through all future years, and be
comes, in some degree, the educator of
a child. The following pathetic tale is,
illustrative of this truth :
I was very young, scarcely beyond the
verge of infancy, the last and most help
less of those little girls who were gath
ered around my mother's death bed.—
Whenever I look on the chain of my va
ried existence, the remembrance of that
being who departed so early and gently
from the bosom of her family, forms the
sad link which ever gives forth a thrill
of funeral music when my heart turns to
it, music which becomes more deep, ton
ed and solemn, as that chain is strength
ened by thought, or bound together by
the events of successive years.
The first person I can remember was
my invalid mother, moving languidly
about her !wine, with the paleness of her
features and a deep spot of crimson that
burned with painful brightness on either
cheek. I remember her step because
more unsteady, and her voice fainter and
more gentle day by day, till at last she
sunk into her bed, and we were called
upon to see her die. Pale and troubled
faces were around her death pillow, men
with sad faces, women overwhelmed with
tears and sympathy, and children that
wept, they knew not why. _
She murmured and placed her pale
hand on my head—my heart swelled
within me, but I stood motionless, filled
with awe. Her lips moved, and a Voice
tremulous and low came faintly through
them. These words, broken and sweet
as they were, left the first impression
that has ever remained on my memory t
"Lend her not into temptation, but de
liver her from evil." This was my moth
er's last prayer. In that imperfect sen
tence her voice was hushed forever.—
Young as I then was, that prayer enter
ed my heart with a solemn strength. It
has lingered around my heart, a blessing
and a safeguard, pervading it with a
music that cannot die. Many times,
when the heedlessness of youth would
have led me into error, has that sweet
voice now hushed forever, intermingled
with my thoughts, and like the rosy links
of a fniry chain, drawn me from my pur
pose.
TEMPERANCE FABLE.—The rats once
assembled in a large cellar to devise
some method of safety in getting the
bait from a small trap which lay near,
having seen numbers of their friends and
relations snatched from them by its
merciless jaws.
After many long speeches, and the
proposal of many elaborate but fruitless
plans, a happy wit standing erect, said,
"It is my opinion that, if with one paw
we keep down the spring, we can safely
take the food from the trap with the oth• '
cr." All the rats present loudly squea
led assent, and slapped thetr tails in np
plause. The meeting adjourned, and
the rats retired to their homes, but the
devastations of the trap being by no
means diminished, the rats were forced
to cull another "convention." The
elders just assembled, had commenced
their d3liberations, when all were star
tled by a faint voice, and a poor rat
with only three legs, limping into the
ring, stood up to speak. All were in
tently silent, when stretching out the
bleeding remains of his leg, lie said :
"My friends, I have tried the method you
proposed, and you see the result ! Now
let me suggest a plan to escape the trap !
—" Do not touch it 1"
How TO PRESERVE HEALTII.—Medi ,
cine will never remedy bad habits. It is
utterly futile to think of living in glut
tony, intemperance and every excess,
and keeping the body in health by
medicine. Indulgence of the appetite,
indiscriminate dosing and drugging)
have rained the health and destroyed .
the lives of more persons than famine ,
or pestilence: if you twill take advice,
you will become regular in your habits,
eat and drink only wholesome things,
sleep on a matress, and retire nod rise
very regularly. Make a free use of wa
ter to purify the skin, and when sick
take counsel of the best physician you
know, and follow nature.
To improve the manners of people,
it was necessary for nature to make
different sexes as it was to make mutual
wants. Introduce a good looking young
man to a bunch of girls, and they'll put
themselves on their good behavior in a
moment. The romp will subside into
smiles and poetry, while the leader of
•'blind man's buff" will assume n tone
of delicacy but little inferior to the flute.
VOL. XV, NO. 16.
How to Raise Indian Cont.
A farmer, residing in West Chester
county, New York, offers the follow
ing as his experience in raising corn the
past three years
"1 have tried nearly all the ways rec.
ommended for raising Indian corn, and
have found the following to be the best:
En the spring, 1 haul nll the manure
can spare, on some piece of sward
ground, and put it in heaps. I defer
plowing till near the time of planting ;
when 1 spread the manure, and turn it
under with much care. I then roll it
with a heavy roller length wise of the
furrows and harrow it well the same
way. I mark it out both ways, three
feet and four inches, plant t: e corn
about an inch deep, and use the culti ,
vator three times both way's. At the
second time of going through it with the
cultivator, I follow with the hoe and
clean out all the grass and weeds in the
hill, but I never haul dirt to the corn, I
make no hill, as 1 think it does more
hurt than good ; and at the time of Oh=
ering my crop, the ground is at smooth
and level nearly as an oat or rye field.
have pursued the above method
for three years, and !lute usually reaped
about 50 bushels of shelled corn to the
acre. The last season I raised at least
75 bushels of shelled corn to the acre,
by the same method. I can now raise
from 50 to 75 bushels to the acre, as
easily as I formerly could 15 to 20 and
it is all through the information I have
received from agricultural papers:''
DEAL JUSTLY.—One of our religious
exchanges has the following strong re
marks on this subject. They drive the
nail in the head and clinch it :
"Men may sophisticate as they please,
they can never make it right for them
not to pay their debts. There is sin In
this neglect as clear and as deserving
church discipline, as in stealing or false
swearing. kle who violates his promise
to pay, or withholds the payment of a
debt, when it is in his power to meet his
engagements, ought to be made to feel
that in the sight of all honest men, he is a
swindler. Religion may be a comforts
ble cloak under which to hide; but if
religion does not make a man "deal just
ly," it is not worth having.
0:7-Three wild mud larks were re
cently captured by a young divine and
brought into Sunday School in New
York.
" What is your name, my boy 1"
"Dan," replied the untaught one, who
was first asked.
" Oh, no, your name is Daniel ; any it
now. ,,
Daniel."
" Yos,
well Daniel, take that seat."
" And what is YOUR name 1" was in
terrogated of the second.
"Sam," ejaculated the urchin.
" Oh dear, no, it is Samuel ; sit down,
Samuel, and now let us hear what YOUR
name is, my bright little fellow 2" said
he, turning to the third.
With a grin of self , satisfaction, and
shake of the head that would have done
honor to Lord Burleigh, the young ca
techumen, boldly replied : rn-ual, be
Jabers 2"
New MODE OF RAISING WitEAT.—An
experiment has been tried in lowa, where
two bushels of wheat and one of oats
were mixed sown together in the fall,
on one acre. The oats shot up rapidly
and were, of course cut down by the
frost They, however, furnished a warm
covering for the earth, and when the
snotv fell among the thick stalks and
leaves, they kept it from blowing away.
This covering prevented the winter kil•
ling of wheat, and the oats yielded a rich
top dressing for the crop the following
spring. The result was—an abundant
crop, while land precisely similar along
side of it, and treated in the same man
nor, with the exception of omitting tho
oats, was utterly worthless.
Two abolition editors contending
about the amount of humility Which they
possess ; the one boasts that he never
passes a colored man without speaking
to him ; while the other claims prece
dence on the ground that he not only
speaks to every nezro that he sees, but ha
absolutely kissed a colored lady at a
camp meeting !
" I'm afraid that you do not practice
Much self , deninl," said a parson to
pretty girl in Newport. "Nay, but I
do," said she, "for every day I fall in
with pretty young men whom I want to
kiss mqst sadly ; but I deny-myself that
pleasure.
A Nentleman" is in training for a
prize fight in Albany. Ho feeds on blood
pudding, and drinks gunpowder tea.
To incresce his muscle, he holds him•
self out by the collar an hour every day.
Kr Woman is the'salt of the earth.--
If you doubt it, think of Lot's wife.
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