VOL. 18.
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zoxuautal.
A Health to my Brother.
BY R. PENN /MTH.
Fill the bowl to the brim, there's no use in
complaining;
We'll drown the dark dream, while a care is
remaining ;
And though the sad tear may embitter the
wine,
Drink half, never fear, the remainder is
mine.
True, others may drink in the lightness of
soul,
But the pleasure I think is the tear in the
bowl;
Then fill up the bowl with the ro‘eate wine,
And the tears of say soul shall there mingle
with thine.
And that being done, we will quaff it, my
brother;
Who drinks of the one should partake of the
other.
Thy head is now gray, and I follow with
pain,—
Maw 1 think of our day, and were children
again.
'Tis folly to grieve that our life's early vision
Shonobut to deceive, and then flit in derision.
A fairylike show, far too fragile to last;
As bright as the rainbow and fading as fast.
'Tis folly to mourn that our hearts' foolish
kindness
Received in return but deceit for their blind.
ness;
And vain to regret that false friends have all
flown;
Since fortune bath set, we can buffet alone.
Then fill up the glass, there's no use in re
pining
That friends quickly leave us, when fortune's
declining—
Let each drop a tear in the roseate howl ;
A tear that's sincere, and then pledge to the
soul.
CIEMIIIM4[III Init'Ul3[ll.
THE SECRET CLOSET;
Or, Let Well Enough Alone.
A little more than fifty years ago, a man by
the name of Henry Thompson called at the
house of John Smith, a resident in a retired
part of England, and requested a night's lodg
ing. This request was readily granted, and the
stranger, having taken some refreshments, re
tired early to bed, requesting that he might be
awakened betimes the following morning.—
When the servant appointed to call him enter
ed the room for that purpose, he was found in
his bed perfectly dead. On pmining his bo
dy no marks of violence qpeared, but his
countenance looked extremely natural. The
story of his death soon spread among the neigh.
bore, and enquiries were made as to who he
was, and by what means he came to his death.
Nothing certain, however, was known. He
had arrived on horseback, and was seen passing
through a neighboring village, about an hour
before he reached the house where he came to
his end. And then, as to the matter of his
death, so little could be discovered that the jo.
ry which were summoned to investigate the
cause, returned a verdict that he died by a
visitation of God." When this was done the
,stranger was buried.
Days and weeks passed, and little further
was known. The public mind, however, was
not at rest. Suspicion existed that foul means
had hastened the stranger's death. Whispers
to that effect were expressed, and in the minds
of many, Smith was considered as the guilty
man. The former character of Smith had not
been good. He had lived a loose and irregu
lar life, involved himself in debt by his extra
vagance, aml at length being suspected of hav
ing obtained mousy wrongfully, he suddenly
fled from the town. More than ten years, how
ever, had now elapsed since his return, during
which he had lived at his present residence,
apparently in good circumstances, and with an
improved character. His former life, however,
was now remembered, and suspicion lifter all,
fastened upon him.
At the expiration of two months, a gentleman
one day stopped in the place for the purpos e o f
making inquiry respecting the stranger who
bad been found dead in his hod. He supposed
himself to be a brother of the man. The horse
and clothes of the unfortunate man still re.
mined, and were immediately known as hav
ing belonged to Isis brother. The body itself
was also taken up, and though considerably
changed, bore a strong resemblance to him.—
He now felt authorized to ascertain, if possible,
the manner of his death. He proceeded, there
fore, to investigate the circumstances as well
as he was able, At length he made known to
the magistrate of the district, the information
he had collected, and upon the strength of
this, Smith was taken to jail to be tried for the
wilful murder of Henry Thompson.
The celebrated Lori Mant , field wa3 then on
ZIIC ttuntingDott
.'''''p4rittit.
" I HEE NO STAR AROYE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT THE INTILWORNT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OP Tns UNITED STATES."...,[WEBSTER,
the bench. He charged the jury to be cautious
as to -finding a bill against the pristiner. The
evidence of his guilt, if guilty, might be small.
At a future time it might lie greater; more in
fbrmation might he obtained. Should the jury
now find a bill against him, and should he be
acquitted ho could not be molested again,
whatever testimony should rise up against him.
The grand jury, however, did find a bill, but . it
was by a majority of only one. At length the
time of trial arrived. Smith was brought into
court and placed at the bar. A great crowd
thronged the mem, eager and anxious to see
the prisoner, and to hear the trial. He himself
appeared .firm and collected. Nothing in his
appearance or manner indicated guilt; and
when the question was put to him by the clerk,
'are you guilty or not guilty?" he answered
with an unfaltering tongue, and with a coun
tenance perfectly unchanged, "not guilty."
The counsel for the prosecution now opened
the case. And it was apparent he had little
exneetation of being able to find the prisoner
guilty. He stated to the jury that the case was
involved in great mystery. The prisoner was
a man of respectability and property. The de
ceased was sapimsed to have had about him
gold and jewels to a large amount; but, the
prisoner was not so much in want of funds as
to be under a strong temptation to commit'
murder. And btsides, if the prisoner had ob
tained the property, he had effeetnally conceal
ed it. Not a trace of it could be found. Why
then was the prisoner suspected? He would
state the grounds of suspicion. The deceased,
Henry Thompson, was a jeweller, residing in
London and a man of wealth. He had left
Loudon for the purpose of meeting a trader at
Hull, of whom he expected to make a large
purchase. The trader he did meet; and after
the departure of the latter, Mr. Thompson was
known to have in his possession gold and jew
els to a large amount.
With these in his possession, he left Hull on
his return to London. It was not known that
he stopped until be reached Sthith's, and the
next morning ho was discovered dead in his
bed. He died, then, in Smith's house, and if
it could be shown that he came to his death, in
an unnatural way, it would increase the suspi
cion that the prisoner was in some way con
nected with the murder.
Now then, continued the counsel, it will be
proved beyond the possibility of a doubt, that
the deceased died by poison. But what was
the poison ? It was a recent discovery of some
German chemists, said to he produced by dis•
tilling the seed of the wild cherry tree. It was
a poison more powerful than any other known,
and deprived one of life so immediately as to
leave no marks of suffering, and no contortions
to the features.
But then the question was, by whom was it
administered? One circumstance, a small one
indeed, and yet upon it might hang a horrid
tale, was that the stopper of a small bottle of
very singular description had been found in the
prisoner's house. The stopper had been ex
amined, and said by medical men to have be
longed to a German phial, containing the kind
of poison which he had described. But then
was that poison administered by Smith, or at
his instigation? Who were the prisoner's fam
ily? It consisted only of himself,a housekeeper
and one man servant. The man servant slept
in an out house adjoining the stable, and did
so on the night of Thompson's death. The
prisoner slept at one end of the house, the
housekeeper at the other, and the deceased had
been put in a room adjoining the housekeep
er's.
It would be proved that about three hours
after midnight, on the night of Thompson's
death, a light had been seen moving about the
house, and that a figure holding the light was
seen to go from the room in which the prisoner
slept, to the housekeeper's roots; the light now
disappeared for a minute, when two persons
were seen, but whether they went into Thomp
son's room, the witness could not swear; but
shortly after they were observed passing quite
through the entry to Smith's room, into which
they entered, and in about five minutes the light
was extinguished.
The witness would further state, that after
the person had returned with the light into
Smith's room, and before it was extinguished,
he bad twice perceived some dark object to in
tervene between the light and the window, al
most as large as the surface of a window itself,
and which he described by saying it appeared
as if a door had been placed before the light.
Now in Smith's room, there was nothing
which could account for this appearance; his
bed was in a different part; and there was
neither cupboard nor press in the room, which,
but for the bed, was entirely empty, the room
in which he dressed being at a distance beyond
it. The counsel for the prosecution here con
eluded what he had to say. During his ad
dress, Smith appeared in no wise to be agitated
or disturbed, and equally unmoved was he
while the witness testified in substance what
the opening speech of the counsel led the court
•
and jury to expect.
Lord Mansfield now addressed the jury. He
told them that in his opinion the evidence was
not sufficient to condemn the prisoner, and
that if the jury agreed with him in opinion, the
court would discharge him. Without leaving
their seats, the jury agreed that the evidence
was not sufficient.
At this moment, when they were about to
render a verdict of acquittal, the prisoner arose
and addressed the court. He said he had been
accused of a foul crime, and the jury had said
that the evidence was not sufficient to convict
him. Did the jury mean that there was any
evidence against him? Was ho to go out of
the court with suspicious resting upon him, af
ter all? This he was unwilling to do. He
was an innocent man, and, if the judge would
grant him the opportunity, he would prove it.
He would call his housekeeper, who would con
firm a dtatemeut which he would now make.
The housekeeper had not appeared in court,
Mc had concealed berrelf, nr had been con•
HUNTINGDON.
cealed by Smith. This was , considered a dark
sign against him. But he himself now offered
to bring her forward, and stated as the reMon,
not that he was unwilling that she should testi
fy, but knowing the excitement, he was fearful
that she might be bribed to give testimony con
trary to fact.
.But he was now ready to relate all the cir
cumstances he knew; she might then be called
and be examined. If her testimony does not
confirm my story, let me be condemned.
The request of the prisoner seemed reasona
ble, and Lord Mansfield, contrary to his usual
practice, granted it.
The prisoner went on with his statement.—
He said he wished to go out of the court re
lieved from the suspicions which were resting
upon him. As to the poison, by means of
which the stranger was said to have died, he
knew neither the name of it nor the effect of it,
nor even the existence of it, until made known
by the counsel. He called God to witness the
truth of what he said.
And then, as to Mr. Thompson, he was a
perfect stranger to him. How should he know
what articles of value he had with him? He
did not know. If he had such articles at Hull
he might have lost them on the road, or, which
was more probable, have otherwise disposed of
them. And if ho died by means of the fatal
drug, he must have administered it himself.
Ho begged the jury to remember that his
premises had been repeatedly and minutely
searched and not the most trifling article that
belonged to the deceased had been discovered
in his possession. The stopper of a phial had
been found—but of this he could only say he
had no knowledge, and had never seen it before
it was produced in court.
One fact had been proven, and only one.--
That he would explain, and his housekeeper
would confirm his statement.
A witness testified that some one had gone
to the bed room of the housekeeper on the
night in question. He was ready to admit that
it was he himself. He had been subject for
many years of his life to sudden fits of illness;
he had been seized with one on that occasion,
and had gone to her to procure her assistance
in lighting a fire. She had returned with him
to his room for that purpose, he having waited
for a minute in the passage, while she put on
her clothes. This would account for the ma
mentary disappearance of the light. After re
maining a few minutes in his room, finding
himself better, he had dismissed her and red.
red to bed, from which he had not risen, when
informed of the death of his guest.
Such was the prisoner's address, which pro
duced a powerful effect. It was delivered in a
very firm and impressive tone, and from the
simple and artless manner of the man, perhaps
not one present doubted his entire innocence.
The housekeeper was now introduced and ex
amined by counsel for the prisoner. She had
not heard any port of the statement of Smith,
nor a single word of the trial.
To this succeeded her cross examination by
the counsel for the prosecution. One circum
stance made a deep impression on his mind—
this was, that while the prisoner and the house
keeper were in the room of the former, some
thing like a door had obstructed the liglitof the
candle, so that the witness testified to the fact,
but could not see it. What was the ob
struction? There was no door—nothing in
the room which could account for this. Yet
the witness is positive that something like a
door did, for a moment come between the win
dow and the candle. This needed explanation.
The housekeeper was the only person thateould
give it. Designing to probe this matter in the
end to the bottom, but not wishing to excite
her alarm, he began by asking her a few unim
,
portant questions; and among others where
the. candle stood while she was in Smith's
room ?
" k the centre of the room," she replied:
and was the closet or cupboard, or
whatever you call it, opened once or twicewhile
it stood there?"
She made no reply.
"I will help your recollection," said the roan.
eel. "After Mr. Smith had taken the medicine
out of the closet, did he shut the door, or did
it remain open 7"
"Ho shut it."
"And when he replaced the bottle in the
closet, he opened it again, did he?"
"He did."
"And how long was it open the last time?"
"Not above a minute."
"Well, and when open, would the door be
exactly between the light and the window?"
"It would.'
"I forget," said the counsel, "whether you
said the closet was on the right hand or the
left hand side of the window?"
"On the left hand aide."
"Would the door of the closet make any
noise in opening ?"
"None."
"Are you certain?'
"I am."
"Have you ever opened it yourself, or only
seen Mr. Smith open it?'
"I never opened it myself."
"Did you never keep the key ?"
"Never."
"Who did?"
"Mr. Smith, always."
At this moment the housekeeper chanced to
cast her eyes towards Smith, the prisoner. A
cold, damp sweat stood upon his brow, and his
face bad lost all its color; ho appeared a living
image of death. She no sooner saw him than
she shrieked and fainted. The consequences
of her ;movers flashed across her mind. She
had been so thoroughly deceived by the man
ner of the advocate, and by the little impor
tance he seemed to attach to her statements,
that she had been led by one question to an
other, till she had told him all he wanted to
She was obliged to be taken from the court,
and a physician who was present was requested
to attend to her. At this time the solicitor for
PA., WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 3, 1853.
the prosecution left the court, but no one knew
for what purpose. Presently the Physician
came into court and stated that it would he
impossible for the housekeeper to resume her
seat in the box short of an hour or two.
It wan about twelve in the day. Lord Mans-
field having directed that the jury should be
accommodated with a room where they could
be kept by themselves, adjourned court two
hours. The prisoner in the meantime was re
manded to jail.
It was between four and five o'clock when
the judge resumed his seat upon the bench.—
The prisoner was again placed nt the bar and
the housekeeper bron,lit in and led to the box.
The court room was crowded to excess, end
an awful silence pervaded the place.
The cross-examining counsel again addressed
the housekeeper.
"I have but a few more questions to ask
you," said he ; "take heed how you answer, for
your own Mb hangs upon a thread. Do you
know this stopper ?"
"To whom does it belong ?"
"To Mr. Smith."
"When did yon last see it?"
"On the night of Mr. Thompson's death."
At this moment the solicitor entered the
court, bringing with him, on a tray, a match,
two money bags, a jewel case, a pocket book,
and a bottle of the same manufacture as the
stopper, and having a cork in it. The tray
was placed on the table, in sight of the prison.
er and the witness, and from that moment not
a doubt remained in the mind of any man of
the guilt of the prisoner.
A few words will bring this melancholy scer.e
to a close. The house where the murder was
committed was between nine and ten miles dis-
tant. The solicitor, as soon Ratite cross-exam
ination of the housekeeper had discovered the
existence of the closet, and its situation, had
set off on horseback, with two sheriff's officers,
and after pulling down a part of the wall of
the house, had detected this important place of
concealment. Theirsearch was well rewarded;
the whole of the property belonging to Thomp
son was found there, amdunting in value to
some thousand pounds ; and to leave no room
for doubt, a bottle was discovered, which the
medical men instantly pronounced to contain
the identical poison which had caused the
death of Thompson. The result was too obvi
ous to need explanation. Smith was convicted
and executed.
©~~~3~Rah~'~~c R~~o
Home's Bright Star.
A correspondent of the "Knickerbocker"
thus writes :—"Though helpless and dependent,
a little child has enough brightness in its eye,
and gayety in its prattle, to fill a household
with joy. When he awakes first at the "peep
of day" and imprints kisses on his parents' lips,
their fragrance is sweeter than that of the morn.
The music of his voice is like the song of birds
at the approach of light; his smiles more sun
ny than the first entrance of sun-beams into
the room. His little arm-chair, on high stilts,
is scrupulously placed when the fast is broken,
and he is no unimportant member at the fami
ly board. During the day, how pleasant the
pattering of his feet on the stair-case, his voice
in the court-yard, his frequent bursting intothe
room with some new tale! At night he kneels
down, clad in white, as before some holy altar,
at his mother's knees, and his little prayers go
straight to heaven from a child's heart. Out
of the mouth of babes and sucklings Thou hest
ordained praise. Not unfrequent, when he
sleeps, are the mother's pilgrimages to his
conch, while under his long lashes and sealed
up lids the spirit of a cherub SCAMS to dwell.—
But oh, if God, in His wise providence, should
change that repose into the sleep of death, and
the white flowers are placed upon his breast, in
his little clasped hands, the tears which sparkle
on his brow are bright, but perhaps the bitter
est ever shed. Dear little C— is dead 1—
I remember the last time I saw him was on a
beautiful evening in autumn. We all sat in the
summer-honse. The moon rose and this stars
twinkled, and were reflected in the waves which
beat below the cliffs. The child looked up to
the brightest star of all, and said
• "Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky."
His seemed like a prophetic voice. But a few
moons have waned, and little 0--- is now
a star in Heaven. Before be died, he sang the
very strains whioh had delighted him, and he
now sleeps in peace near the ricer's bank,
where, in spring -time, the flowers shall bloom
above him which he so much loved, and where'
they will not cease to be watered by a parent's
tears. How many a bereaved heart will be
touched by this 1"
Goodness not the Growth of a Day.
The mushroom may shoot up and be perfect
in a night. The green grass may rise and fall
twice in a season beneath the summer sun.
But the strong and beautiful diamond must
mature in its secret caverns, while the genera
tions of the forest, alike with those of flesh and
blood, pass away. The star that glitters like
God's signet ; sparkling too brilliant in the clear
evening for the eye to fix its shape, sprang not
into instantaneous being, but, as astronomy
would teach,began to form, innumerable ages
by-gone, in dim and dark mist; revolving and
condensing and gathering pale light, ray after
ray, as century. after century rolled along, till
what tell, perhaps, on the eye of Adam as a
pearly aloud in the profound remote heavens,
shoots a fiery radience now over land and sea.
Even so dimly and darkly forms human virtue
or goodness, revolving amid unshaped elements
in the spiritual firmament, condensing—if a
moral truthfulness to God be the prevailing law
—ever into more consistant and substantial
brightness, and preparing, by the grace of God,
and under the influences of His Gospel, to
shine, as those stars now shine, for ever in the
heavens, when their flames may be extinguish
ed in endless night
The Potato Rot—lts Caine and its
Remedy.
An important work on the prevention of the
potato rot, has just been published at St. Pe
tersburg. The author is Professor Bellman, a
Russian Councillor of State, and we find an in
testing notice of the publication in a late num
ber of the Boston Courier. Mr. Bellman as
serts from actual experience, that thoroughly
dried potatoes will always produce a crop free
from disease. This discovery he made by acci
dent, but confirmed it by repeated subsequent
trials. Re had contrived a potato setter, which
had the had quality of destroying any sprouts
that might be on the sets, and even of tearing
away the rind. To harden the potatoes, so as
to protect them against this accident, he resol
ved to dry them. In the spring of 1850, he
placed the lot in a very hot room, and at the
end of three weeks they were dry enough to
plant. The potatoes came up well and had no
disease.
This, it is added, was looked upon as a mere
accident; but his seed-potates having been
dried again the next year, and again produ
cing a perfectly sound crop, while the neighbor
ing crops were all diseased, the Professor's at
tention was drawn to the phenomena, and he
made a third trial in 1852. This time all his
own stock of potatoes being exhausted, he was
obliged to purchase his seed, which bore unmis
takable marks of having formed part of a crop
that had been severely diseased; some being quite
rotten. After keeping them for about a month
in a hot room, as before; he cut the largest po
tatoes into quarters, and the smallest into hal
ves, and left them to dry another week. Acci
dentally the drying was carried so far that ap
prehensions were entertained of a very bad
crop, irony. Contrary to expectation, howev
er, the sets pushed promptly, and grew so fast
that excellent young potatoes were dug three
weeks earlier than usual.
This singular result, obtained in three suc
cessive years, led to inquiry as to whether any
similar case were on record. In the course of
the investigation, two other facts were elicited.
It was discovered that Mr. Losovsky, of Wite.
bak, had for four years adopted the plan of dry.
ing his seed potatoes, and that during that time
there had been no disease on his estate. It
was again an accident which led to the prat.
tire of this gentleman. Five years ago while
his potatoes were digging he put one in his
pocket, and on returning home threw it on his
stove, where it remained forgotten till the
spring. Having then chanced to observe it,
he had the curiosity to plant jt, all dried up as
it was, and obtained an abundant, healthy crop;
since that time the practice of drying has been
continued, and always with great success.—
Professor Bellman remarks that it is usual in
Russia, in many places, to smoke-dry flax,
wheat and rye, and in the west of Russia. ex.
perienced proprietors prefer, for need, ‘ onions
that have been kept over winter in cottages
without a chimney.
The second fact is this:—Mr. Wasileffsky, of
Mohileff, is in the habit of keeping potatoes all
the year round, by storing them in the place
where his hams are smoked. It happened that,
in the spring of 1852, his seed potatoes, kept
in the usual manner, was insufficient; and he
made up the requisite quantity with some of
those which had been for a month in the smo
king place. These potatoes produced a capi
tal crop, very little diseased, while at the same
time the crop from the sets which were not
smoke-dried was extensively attacked by din
ease. Prof, Bellman is of opinion that there
would have been no disease at all if the sets
had been better dried. The temperature requi
red to produce the desired result is not very
clearly made out. Mr. Bellman's room, in
which his first potatoes were dried, was heated
to about 72°, and much higher. By way of
experiment ho placed others in the chamber of
the stove itself, where the thermometer stood
at 136° and more. He also ascertained that
the vitality of the potato is not effected, even if
the rind is charred.
A method so simple, rational and cheap, as
is suggested above, cannot fail to recommend
itself to the attention of every American far
mer. If the remedy is inefficacious in Russia,
there seems no reason why it should fail in this
country. We have ample proof in experience
that the source of the disease is in the root its
elf, and not in any noxious quality of the soil
or atmosphere from which it derives its nutri
ment.
Sympathy for the Fallen.
For mypart,l confess I have not the heart to
take an offending man from the general crowd
of sinful erring men, and judge him harshly.
The little I have •aeon of the world and know
of the history of mankind, teaches me to look
upon the errors of others in sorrow, not anger.
When I take the history of one poor heart that
has sinned and suffered, and represent to my
self the struggles and temptations it has pass
ed—the brief pulsations of joy—the feverish
inquietude of hope and fear—the tears of re
gret; the feebleness of purpose—the pressure of
want—the desertion of friends—the scorn of
the world that has but little charity—the de-
solution of the soul's sanctuary—and threaten
ing voice within—health gone--even hope that
stays longest with us—gone—l have little
heart for aught else but thankfulness that it is
not so with me, and would fain leave the erring
soul of my fellow-man with Him from whose
hands it came,
"Even as a little child,
Weeping and laughing in its childish sport."
WO- The editor of the Elmira Gazette, in a
late number of his paper, made the following
severe but truthful announcement:
"When you see a man iu business, who will
not advertise, or take a newspaper, look out for
a mean penurious skin-flint, too tight to enjoy
good health, and who holds a penny so near
his eyes that he can't see a duller.
se- If a man could oily look at himself
with a sober eye when he is drunk, he never
would drip's again,
Wonderful Trees.
Among the remarkable trees in the world,
the fol:owing, of which we have compiled brief
descriptions. are some of the most curious :
The Brazil• Nut Tree.—The Brazil.nut tree
may justly command the attention of the enthu
elastic naturalist. This tree thrives well in the
province of Brazil, and immense quantities of
its delicious fruit arc annually exported to for
eign countries. It grows to the height of from
50 to 80 feet, and in appearance is one of the
moat majestic ornaments of the forest. The
fruit in its natural position, resembles a cocoa
nut, being extremely hard,, and about the tine
of a child's head. Each one of these shells
contains from 15 to 20 . of these three-cornered
nuts, nicely packed together. And to obtain
the nuts as they appear in market, these shells
have to be broken open. During the season
of their tailing it is dangerous to enter the
groves where they abound, as the force of their
descent is sufficient to knock down the strong.
est man. The natives, however, provide them.
selves with wooden bucklers, which they hold
over their heads while collecting the fruit froth
the ground. In this manner they are perfectly
secure from injury.
The Cannonball Tree.—Among the plants of
Guinea, one of the most curious is the cannon•
hall tree. It grows to the height of 60 feet,
and its flowers are remarkable for beauty and
fragrance, and contradictory qualities. Its
blossoms are of a delicious crimson, appearing
in bunches, exhaling a rich perfume.—
The
fruit resembles enormous cannon•balls
hence the name. However, some say it has
been so called because of the noise the balls
make in bursting. From the shell domestic
utensils are made, and the contents contain
several kinds of acids, besides sugar and gum,
and furnish the materials for making an excel
lent drink in sickness. But, singular as it
may appear, this pulp. when in a perfectly ripe
state, is very filthy, and the odor from it is ex•
ceedingly unpleasant.
The Great Chestnut Tree.—On the one side
of Mt. Etna there is a famous chestnut tree,
which is said to be 196 feet in circumference,
just above the surface of the ground. Its en
ormous trunk, is separated into five divisions,
which give it the appearance of several trees
growing together. In a circular space, formed
by these large branches, a hut has been erected
for the accommodation of those who collect the
chestnuts.
The Dwarf Tree.—Captains King and Fitz
roy state, that they saw a tree, on the
mountains near Cape Horn, which was only
one or two inches high, yet had branches
spreading out four or five feet along the
ground.
The Ivory-nut Tree.—The ivory-nut tree is
popularly called the Tague plant, and is com
mon in South America. The tree is one of the
numerous family of plants, but belonging to
the order designated as screw-pine tribe. The
natives use their leaves to cover their cottages,
and from the nuts make buttons and various
other articles. In an early state, the nuts con
tain a sweet milky liquid, which afterward as
sumes a solidity nearly equal to ivory, and will
admit of a high pol ish. It is known as ivory
nut, or vegetable ivory, and has recently been
brought into use for various purposes.
The Sorrowfiel Tree.—At Goa, near Born
bay, there is a singular vegetable—the sorrow
ful tree—so called because it flourishes in the
night. At sunset no flowers are to be seen,
and yet, half an hour after, it is quite full of
them. They yield a sweet smell, but the sun
no sooner begins to shine upon them than some
of them fall off, and other closes up; and thus
it continues flowering in the night all the year.
The Sack Tree.—There is said to be a tree
in Bombay called the sack tree, because from
it may be stripped very singular natural sacks,
which resemble "felt" in appearance.—Chris
fain Inq.
A Good One.
Speaking of poor-houses, reminds us of what
happened at a poor-house in Massachusetts, on
the occasion of a parochial visit paid by a very
worthy minister of our acquaintance. There
were several persons in the room when the min
ister called, one of whom was a very talkative,
pions old lady, and another a half-witted young
woman. Of course the old woman at once en
tered into conversation with the minister, the
half-witted one sitting by dishevelling her hair,
and now and then venturing a remark. The
old woman commenced in the usual way, by
stating her exceeding sinfulness, and her con
scious need of repentance. After lamenting at
considerable length the evils that were tempt
ing and the sins that were besetting her, she
very suddenly changed the current of her words.
"But then," said she, "Mr.—, the Lord is
merciful, and knows our weakness; he. has be
gun a good work." "Ah," said the half-witted
girl, discontinuing her employment for a mo
ment, "Ah, He don't know what He's under
took!" Of course the talk was over, and the
minister left the premises instanter.—Concord
Democrat.
Spiritual Pads.
That Whiskey is the key by which many
Gain an entrance into our prisons and alms
houses.
That Brandy brands the noses of all those
who cannot govern their appetites.
That Wine causes many to take a winding
way home.
That Punch is the cause of many unfriendly
punches.
That Ale causes many ailings, while Beer
brings many to the bier.
That Chainpaigne is the source of many real
pains.
That Gin allege have 'slowed' more than the
slings of old.
That the reputation of being fond of cook
tails, is not a feather in any man's cap.
That the money spent for Port supped by
portlygents would support many a poor fam.
ily.
se' Jones says courting is done on the
printing principle; there being a good, deal of
rrevr rytrs• ;Ow, it
NO. 31.
Hints About Harness.
• For several years past, we have adopted the
following plan of treating carriage harness, with
so much, comfort and success, that we have con
cluded to recommend it to you for working
and carriage harness.
The whole thing may he comprised in a few
words. With hot water, soap, brushes, and
scrapers make your harness perfectly clean.—
Next saturate with oil: lastly, a weatherproof
elastic polish and blackening.
For your information, we detail to you how
to go about accomplishing these results. Se
lect some afternoon with a prospect of a fair
day following. Take your harness and take it
to pieces, as far as you can unbuckle it. Put
them into a tub or barrel, and pour boiling soap
suds over them and let them stand all night.
In the morning, take a stiff brush, or corn cobs;
or something else of the same sort, and with a
smooth board in place of a wash-board, with
water and soap, rub the coat of grease and dirt
off each side of the leather. Sometimes it is
necessary to use a dull old knife to scrape with.
Pass each strap through a second clean water,
and hang up on a line, exposed to the sun.—
Neatsfoot oil is the best, but fish oil will do 'cc•
ry well. Make a brush by rubbing some flannel
round a stick, and tying it with thread, dip this
in the oil, and pass over both sides. As it dries
in, go over them again and again, until they
will absorb no more oil. Let them stay out
over night.
In the morning, if they are all soft and plia
hle, you may proceed to apply varnish. If not,
put on more oil until they do get soft and plia-
The polish is made as follows:—Take a pint
of fish or neatsfoot oil, add four ounces of bees
wax, four ounces clean beef tallow, one ounce
rosin, and one ounce of lampblack; melt—when
melted, add about two table-spoonfuls of tur
pentine, and with flannel cloths commence rub
bing the harness both sides, draw the straps
through and through the flannel. The polish
must be applied warm as the hands can bear it.
Let your harness hang out one night. Take
warm water and soap and wash all the black off,
which will come off with sponge or cloths.—
Hang up, and in an hour or so, you can buck
le together again, and it is lit for use. Yon
will now have soft harness, with a dull shiny
jet black surface which will keepsofor a whole
year, if von put oil enough on them to render
them as soft as woolen cloth. Theywill retain
this dull shiny black all summer, and mud
will never stay on long after it is dry.
Any person who will treat his harness so,
once a year, will never regret the trouble.
If they need repairing either do it yourself,
or have it done before the spring work comes
on.—Exchangc.
Courting in Right Style.
"(let coot you nasty peppy—let me alone or
I'll tell your ma!" exclaimed Sally to her lover
Jake, who sat about ten feet from her pulling
dirt out of the jam.
"I ain't techen' you,
Sal," responded Jake.
"Well, perhaps you don't mean to nuther, do
port'
"No, I don't."
"Cause why you're too tunal scurry, you
long.legged, lantern jawed, slab-sided, pigeon.
toed, gander legged owl, you haint got a tarnsl
bit o'sense; get along home with you."
"Now, Sal, I love you, and you can't help it,
and of you don't let me stay and court you, my
daddy will sue yours for that cow he sold him
t'other day. By jingo' he said he'd do it."
"Well. look here. - .Take. if Ton want to court
me, you'd better do it as a white man does that
'thing—not set off there as if you thort I was
pizen."
"How on airth is that Sal ?"
"Why, sidel right up here and hug and kiss
me as if you really had some of the bone and
sinner of a man abodt you. Do you 'spose a
woman's only made to look at, you fool you.—
No; they're made for "practical results," as
Kossuth says—to hug and kiss, and sick like.
"Well," said Jake, drawing a long breath,
"if I must I must, for I do love you Sal"—and
so Jake commenced sliding up to her like a
maple poker going to battle. Laying his arm
gently on Sal's shoulders, we thought we heard
Sal say—
" Now you begin to please me, old hoss; that's
acting like a white man orter."
"Oh, Jerusalem and pancakes exclaimed
Jake, "if this ain't better than any apple sass
ever marm made, a darn sight. Crackee
bu ck wheat cakes, slap-jacks and lasses ain't
nowhere 'long side of you, Sal—Oh how I love
you I"
Here their lips came together, and the report
that followed, was like pulling a horse's foot
out of the mire.
Bluffing a Witness.
in a justice's court down East a trial was
under way for tresspass, in cutting wood from
a neighbor's premises without authority. One
of the plaintiffs witnesses was a plain old far.
mer, whose testimony went clearly to prove the
charge. The defendant's counsel, a blustering
man of brass, after the moat approved fashion
of country pettifoggers, thought to weaken the
force of his evidence by proving idiocy to be a
trait of his family. Ile therefore interrogated
him thus:
"Mr. -, you have a sou who is an idiot,
have you not?"
"Yi.s, sir."
"Does he know any thing?"
"Very little."
"How much does he know ?"
"Well, almost nothing; not much more than
yon do."
The witness was allowed to retire without
further questioning, amidst the most uproarious
screams of laughter.
Gir 'Ma,' said a yonng lady to her mother
the other day, 'what is immigration?
'Emigrating, my dear, is a young lady going
to Austral ia.'
'What is colonizing?'
'Colonizing my dear is marrying there and
having a family.'
'Ma, I shoula like to go to Australia.'
rhe smallest P.;;:g in the World.
We three
Brothers be,
In one cause—
Bill puffs,
I snuffs.
John
125 " i! you take a pinch of snuff, Mr.
serlg gins
"No, I ' ; ' hank you ; gray now was intended
for a duat•hole, it would have been tnrnod the