VOL. 18. \
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PoztraNlibe
Tho following lines, written some years
ago, by that poct•son of Albino, J. C. Prince,
are, wo think, very beautiful:
The Pen and the Press.
Young Genius walked out by the mountains
and streams,
Entranced by the power of his own pleasant
dreams,
Till the silent, the wayward, the wandering
thing,
Found a plume that had fallen from a passing
bird's wing.
Exulting and proud, like a boy nt his play,
Ho bore the new prize to his dwelling away ;
He gazed for a while at its beauties and then
Ho cut it, and shaped it, and called it a Pax.
But its magical use he discovered not yet,
Till he dipped its bright lips in a fountain of
..•
jet;
And O I what a glorious thing it became I
For it spoke to the world iu a language of
flame;
While its master wrote on, like a being in
spired,
Till the hearts of the millions were melted and
fired.
It came as a boon, and a blessing to men,
The peaceful, the pure, the victorious rco.
Young Genius went forth on his rambles onco
more,
The vast sunless caverns of earth to explore ;
Ile searched the rude rock, and with rapture
he found
A substance unknown which ho brought from
the ground.
Ho I used it with fire, and rejoiced in the
change,
A s be melted the ore into characters strange,
Till his thoughts and his efforts were crowned
with success,
For an engine uprose, and he called it a PRESS.
Tho pen and tho press, (blest alliance!) com
bined
To soften the heart and enlighten the mind,
For that to the treasures of knowledge gave
birth,
And this sent them forth to the ends of the
earth.
Their battles for truth were triumphant indeed,
And the rod of the tyrant was snapped like a
reed.
They were made to exalt us, to teach us, to
bless ;
Those invaluable brothers—the PEN and the
Paces.
fiIItIgiVEII27I2CAZ.
From the Knickerbocker.
_A STORY
About an Old Gentleman and a Wolf.
'REIT, PURSUED BY A BEAU.'
Shakespeare: Winter Talc, Act HI: Scene 111.
lam about to relate a story concerning an
old gentleman and a wolf, which I flatter my
self will be found highly tragical and enter
taining. I tell the story precisely as I heard it
ono winter evening about five years ago, in the
kitchen of John Buck, a good and true far
mer of ono of the middle States. I was at that
time eighteen years old, and followed during
that particular winter the laudable occupation
of teaching school. In the course of my
`boarding around peregrinations, I had at this
time got billeted on John Buck, and I can tes
tify with gratitude that they lived iu the solid
est fashion there, and used mo as if I had been
a prince. I was a prince, it is true, and hav
ing comp to voting age, and now a king; an
American king, a republican sovereign; but
like a good many other princes of my time,
who diverted themselves by teaching district
school in the winter, my royal rations were too
often sour shortened cake and dried apple-pie,
more fit for an ostrich than for an heir-appar
ten; and so the steaming steaks, the fragrant
coffee, and the noble pies which adorned Mrs.
Buck's table are to this day glorious in my
memory.
On the certain winter evening of which I
spoke, I sat on ono side of the spacious fire
place, with a closed book in my hand, which I
had just been reading, and was contemplating
the two family groups which occupied opposite
sides of the room. On one side, and not far
from myself, sat the farmer, a hale, ruddy,
largo framed man, rending the Weekly Bomb
Shell,' a sweet and cheerful political newspa
per, the organ of his party in the county. His
wire, a quiet woman, sat beside the same table,
sewing; while Aunty Baldwin and grand.moth.
er Buck, sitting in rocking chairs, plied their
knitting needles and told stories of dreadful
length, involving intricate genealogies, which
are not to be made intelligent by me without a
blackboard. The fanner was a zealous poli
tic:an, and occasionally broke out with some
paragraphs of astounding purport from the col
umns of the 'Bomb Shell,' ns thus:
'Hal thunder; wife; just hear this P Special
Telegraphic Dispatch to the New York Trib
une from Washington.—Senator Sixshooter, of
Arkansas, has just published a letter on River
and Harbor Improvements, addressed to the
Italltingtot Ittlitilat.
I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TQ GUIDE US, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WIIIO PARTY OE THE UNITED STATES."- [WEBSTER.
Hon. Mr. Twopistols, of Kentucky, saying, that
unless Congress immediately appropriates two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the pur
pose of clearing the snags and alligators out of
the Chickochofee river, the inhabitants of Bok
nit.° county will secede, set up an Independent
government, and declare war. They have
sent to St. Louis for a six-pounder and two
tons of percussion caps.' There I thoso chaps
want to scars Congress, and If Congress is
scared by them, it ought to be spanked. Two
hundred and fifty thousand dollars for snaking
the alligators out of their creek I I could go
there and pick 'cm out of the mud with a pitch
fork. If I was President, I would make them
sallow their two ton of percussion caps.—
They're a queer nation out West.'
'Yes,' sighed Aunty Baldwin, 'they are a
very peculiar kind of people. lam afraid that
the Pope has got his eye on the West, and
would like to have tho inquisition going there,
if Ito could. But I trust and pray that ho will
fail in all his designs as Dr. Jones said at the
annual meeting of tho American Board.'
'Ho I good I' the fanner again broke out;
'hero is what Mr. Splinters, the editor of the
'Boesk Shell,' says about the Secretary of the
Treasury: 'Besides the miserable incapacity
and flagrant corruption of this vental tool of
the Administration, there aro other crimes laid
to his charge, which, In our opinion, render
him a fit subject for the action of the High
Court of Impeachment of the United States."
But no matter what Mr. Splinters said about
the poor Secretary; ho wrote with a rattle
snake's fang; and it will do none of us any
good to rehearse his congressional leaders.
On the other side of the blazing the-place
sat, first, Mag, a strapping two-fisted won*
chopping minced-meat in a wooden bowl. Not
far distant sat John a hired man, a drawling,
pork-fed mortal, with his feet on the rounds of
his flat-bottomed chair, smoking a pipe, and
addressing his remarks on men and things,
cattle, politics, saw-mills, and hog-feed, to every
person in the room by turns thus imparting
his valuable experience and the result of his
dissiminnting observation in a manner well
calculated to 'rest on the age.' Three boys sat
on the broad hearth, with hatchet, hammer,
nails, knives, sticks, and leather-straps, ma
king a now-fangled quail-trap, supposed by
them to be an invention of incalculable impor
tance, and likely to revolutionize the whole
science of catching quails in February. The
first of these striplings was Dave Buck, a boy
of thirteen, loud voiced and brown-haired, one
of the sort known as 'staving fellows.' The
second was his brother Mat., somewhat young
er. Joe Kedge, a neighbor's boy, completed
the trio. Joe was a long faced, mathematical
genius, the master-architect of the new trap,
which, under his skillful fingers, was gradually
rising to pyramidal symmetry, curious to be
hold. Two children, twins,the ono Will, an hon
est, courageous, open-eyed little fellow, and
Nelly, a pretty and timid creature, stood by,
watching the progress of Joe Kedge's trap
with the intensest interest.
'Now, h.o.y.s,' said John, holding his pipe in
his fingers, and scrutinizing the new snare
with a skeptical eye, 'you won'tketch no quails
in any such kind of a darned York trap as
that, I can toll you. I've ketched quails in my
time, and I reckon that I know quails about
as well ns the next man; and I just tell you
once—t for all, that if you ketch the fust quail
in that there trap, then I am a lawyer.
W-a.a-11, J-o.h-n,' replied Joe Kedge, imita
tating the drawl of the hired man, 'peaps you
couldn't ketch a Connecticut q-u-a-i-1 in it, but
I guess we can coax a Y-o-r-k quail to get into
it. York quails havo n't been to school so
long as Connecticut quails, they have n't had
so many 'advantages,' and consequently don't
know so much about the steam-engine, and
have n't got so much information generally.—
Guess a fellow might ketch a Y-o-r-k quail
Johnny.'
Dave Buck exploded at this, and so did Mat.,
and the two rolled over on the floor, shrieking
with laughter; hut Joe was straightening a
Crooked shingle-nail on an old flat iron, and
did not move a muscle of his face.
would jest like to know, Joo Kedge, how
you calc'lato you can induce a quail to go inside
of that there coop,' said John, a little tartly.
'Oh,' replied Joe, I would pat some c-o-r-n
and things on that there piece of shingle, and
if that did n't in-d-e-u-co the quail, I would toll
his mother on him:
Dave and Mat., shrieked again at this true
specimen of boy's humor, and keeled over on
the floor. John stuck his pipe in his mouth,
and said, 'You are getting' entirely too smart
for your hide to hold you much longer, Mister
Kedge; but I tell you that I know quails, and
you can't ketch the fast quail in any such kind
of a two story trap as that.'
'Why can't we John?—now I'd just like to
know l' cried Dave Duck.
'Why!' said John; 'why—why, because it
ant reas'nable:
'Oh, you get out l' cried Dave.
'Why John I tell you that you can't keep
quails out of it, said Joe. 'l'll just tell you a
little fact that happened down to our house last
Saturday night, and then eon what you will
have to offer on the subject. I made just such
a trap as this on Saturday afternoon, and when
I got it done, father forked on it, and says he,
'Let this alone, young man, till Monday morn•
ing. I won't have you satin' traps on Satar•
day night, and feteldn' in a lot of live quails on
the Loan's day. So he took it down that
uight,we heard something peckin' in the col.
lar, and no body in the house could guess what
it was. But when we went down there in the
morning, to see what was the fuss, we found a
quail there, that had worn his bill off up to his
wisdom•teeth, trying to make a hole in that tub,
so as to get inside of it, and get catched in that
there trap. No, Sir, you can't keep quails out
of it. Mat, hand me that there awl.'
Dave and Mat, wont into convulsions once
more. John grinned, and said, 'l'm accord
your funeral will be attended before you git of
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14, 1853.
age, young man. But I say Just what I said
all along, that you can't ketch any thing in that
trap, or else I'm a lawyer. Jest remember
now that I told you before-hand'
'Oh you get out, John l' cried Dave. 'Ton
don't know any thing. Hero we put the corn,
and hero comes the quail. Now,how in Sam
Hill do you suppose ho is going to go by that
there crib without stopping to fodder ?—and
then, you see, he's a gone sucker at once.'
-Wa-11, you'll see—you'll see,' said John,
blowing a cloud of smoke into the air, and
stretching out hie legs.
Little Will, who had been earnestly watch
ing the operations of the trap-builders, henrd
with consternation the verdict of John on the
merits of the new engine, and ran across the
room to his mother, with his large, honest eyes
starting from his head, and said:
'Mother! mother! John says that Joe
Hedge's trap won't ketch no quails
'Hush, child I hush! said the mother; 'your
father is reading to us. Go and ask John to
tell you and Nelly a story.' And truth, Will
had interrupted his father intho midst of ono of
Mr. Splinters's pungent commentaries on tho
Report of the Secretary of the Treasury: 'An
other proposition of this profligate and dastar
dly idiot is, to saddle the groaning millions of
this broad Republic with an additional duty of
one-and a-half per cent, on cut-nails; a propo
sition which makes our blood boil with indig
nation.' and so on. Mrs. Buck, innocent wo
man, could not see why Mr. Splinters should
suffer so much anguish on account of the duty
on cut-nails, but, like a model wife, listened
with duo attention to whatever her husband
was pleased to read for her illumination; while
Grand-mother Buck and Aunty Baldwin con
tinued to unravel tangled genealogies.
'John,' said little Will, returning to the tri
pod of the kitchen-oracle, will you please to toll
Nelly and me a story ?'
'Oh, do tell us a story, good John Robbins'
cried Nelly.
'Well, little folks,' said John don't care if
I do. What shall it he about?'
'Oh, tell us about Grand-father Robbins and
the wolf!' cried Will.
'Oh, do,. good John V Nelly said; 'but it
makes me so 'fraid l'
'Well,' said John, having filled his pipe, 'I
don't cars if Ido toll you the story about
Grandfather Robbins and the wolf. Let me
get my pipe agoin' first, though. Mat., just
light-that pine sliver in the fire place, and hand
it to me. There, you Ingen, look ont I you
needn't mind setting me on fire.'
'Get out, you scamp bawled Mug, as the ur
chin passed behind her chair with hie little
torch.
'Natty, said Grand-mother, look, 'what are
you doing?'
'Noth'n—noth'n at all,' said Matronly help
in, John light his pipe.'
'Only settin' me a fire l' cried Meg; 'ho
ought to bo licked. And I'll do it, too, if ho
don't behave himself.'
'Martin" said tho boy's mother, 'go away,
and don't bother Margaret.'
'Yes'm,' Mat, said, and resumed his scat by
the quail-trap.
'Now, little folks,' John said, 'it seems that
Margaret ain't going to burn up Just now, and
so I'll tell you the story. Fifty-threo year ago,
on the twenty-fourth day of last November,
Grand-father Robbins came into Howlin' Hol
ler for to make a settlement. It was a new
country then, and there wasn't a neighbor with.
in three miles of him and ho was quite an
old man, too. But he got a few titters and a
chunk of pork, and reckoned ho could make a
live on't till Spring, though it was apooty small
chance. There was wolves in the Holler—au
unaccountable mess of 'em; and painters—the
wust kind of painters. There was ono of 'em
killed a man in the Holler in the year 1799.
There was a pedlar came along a good many
years after that had l'arnin, and ho made somo
po'try about it. It went so :
"Now listen, all ye lumber-men,
Both ye that have and have not sin,
And I will quickly you inform
How JONAS Bnows a painter torn.
He went out to the hemlock woods;
His frock was made of checkered goods;
He bad his provisions in a pa!?,,
And there occurred this dreadfid talc."
'There's twenty-seven verses of it. I've got
it in my chist up stairs, and some time I'll
bring it down and read it to you. Squire
Johnston took it down to the Corners, and had
it printed on sheets of paper, with edging all
around the sides.
'There was Ingens down to the Holler, too
--great, big red Ingens, that skilped folks in
the war, and carried on monstrous ugly when
they was drunk.'
'John,' said Will, 'tell us what the Ingens
used to sny to Grand-father Robbins.' "
'Oh, John! cried Nelly, 'do tell, but It makes
me so 'afraid.'
'Well,' John said, don't justly remember
the expressions Grandfather said: they used,
though I've heard him tell more'n a hundred
times; but it was something like this: 'Tommy
wommy ! whoop! whoop! ca-whoop!"
'Oh-o-o lit makes me 'frail] I' cried poor
Nelly, hiding her face in her apron.
'How big—when? John, did you ever see
an Ingen?' Will said.
'Yes, a good many, and some time I'll toll
you about old Captain Wild Turkey, the Chief
of 'em; but now I'll tell you how Grand-father
encountered a pesky wolf one day, the first one
he ever seen. He went out into the woods ono
morning tt,choppin'. Well, after ho bad chop
ped all day, it came on dusk; and while he was
a-choppin', all at once't he 'spied a wolf comin'
toward Mm, and the wolf he 'spied Grandfather
Bobbins a-choppin'. So Grand-father ho stop
ped choppite, and the wolf ho stopped comin'.
Then the wolf ho crooked up his back and
heowled, and then Grand-father ho crooked up
his back and heowled. Grand-futher Ito was
skeert, and be reckoned that the wol f was skeert,
and so they stood there quite a spell. The wolf
he h-c-o-w-l-e- d at Grandfather Nubbins, and
Grandfather Robbins he h—e—o—w—l—e—d at the
wolf I'
Here poor little Nally, though he had heard
twenty times before, the legend of Grandfather
Robbins and the wolf, was so terror-stricken at
the dreadful peril of the good old man—her
apprehensions being aided not a little perhaps
by the tragic emphasis with which John utter
ed the fearful word h-e-o-w-l-c-d that she ran
away crying, and buried her face in her moth
er's lap, but Will stood his ground bravely,
though faltering slightly at first, and stared in
the face of John with wide eyes and mouth half
open.
'l'd Just liked to been in Grandfather Rob
bin's place about two minutes,' said Davo,
flourishing his hatchet; I'd a made that there
wolf sing ;hear I I'd a cracked his snout with
a chunk of wood till he would have thought
day was breaking I'
'No you wouldn't, Davo Buck,' said little
Will, kindling with earnestness; 'no yon wouldut
You wouldn't dared to did it. Tho wolf would
have sicallered ye.'
'A great many times that wolf would have
swallored nie 1 cried Mat. 'l'd have fixed him
out so that his aunt wouldn't liar° known him;'
'About how long by the clock did Grand
father Robbins stand there a-hcotolin', John ?'
inquired Joo Kedgo.
'Well,' said Jolla, 'he never could tell pre.
cisoly how long. Folks ideas about time dif
fers. Somo folks ha'nt no judgement about it
at all, and others again have. Grandfather
used to judge that he might have stood there
about five minutes, and then the wolf ho turned
around and slid one way, and Grandfather Rob-
bins ho turned around and slid another way.'
'ls that the end of the story about Grand
father Robbins and the wolf?' said Joseph.
'Yes, that's the end of it,' John said.
'Got any more such? continued Joe.
'Not that I now recollect of,' said John, in.
nocently.
'Well, then, John,' the youth proceeded, 'I
guess you had hotter go up to bed. There's
the schoolmaster been harking.' (This he said
lowering his voice, and speaking for the bene
fit only of the circle around him.) 'Who knows
John, but what he'll fut it in the papers ono of
these days?'
Kentucky Regard for Fair Play.
In the year 1838 I was traveling with a
strolling theatrical company, and arriving at a
small town in Kentucky., it was resolved to treat
the inhabitants to a bit of the legitimate. A
suitable place having been secured, notices
were stuck up informing the pnblic that on that
evening would ho performed, by ono of the best
theatrical companies in the Union, the admired
and popular drama of "William Tell, the hero
ic Swiss."
Night came, and the room was crowded by
an anxious audience, many of whom had never
witnessed a theatrical performance. The piece
passed off very well, eliciting much applause,
and enlisting tho sympathies of the audience in
behalf of Tell, as they tookseveral occasions to
cheer the patriot on. When tho shooting scene
came, great excitement was manifested among
the group of the hardy sons of Keutuekey—
they began to think . that the thing was real.—
At that moment when Toll remonstrates with
Gesler for having picked out the smallest ap
ple, and the tyrant says:
"Take it as it is: thy skill bo greater if thou
hittest it."
To which Tell replies.
"True, true, I did not think of that! Give
me some chance to save my boy!"
Ono of the group I have mentioned—a har
dy sapling who would measure full six feet two
inches in his stockings—sprung upon the stags
confronting Cooler, and shouted;
"Give him a fair chance I I vow to snakes
it's too mean to mako him shoot his sonl 'sposo
I let him shoot ono of my niggers; or if that
won't do I'll lot him have a crack at mo provi.
ded ho puts a pint cup on my head instead of
that cussed little apple.
It is almost useless to add that this caused a
scene—especially as three or four of the Ken.
tuckian's friends jumped upon the stage to
back him and side with Tell.
It took some time to pacify and assure them
that it was a play.
"Well, stranger, we won't stand any foul
play in those diggms, and nein' no how it's
only a show, why we'll step ont," and the val
iant Kentuckian as well as his friends, resum
ed their seats.
To Make Light Bread.
Take a pint of milk; all lot Home to a boil
put in enough cold water to make it a little
more than milk warm; put in ono ;largo tea
spoonful of salt; two largo tea-spoonsful of corn
meal, and enough flour to make it as thick as
you can conveniently stir it. Keep about milk
warm; if water rises to the surface stir your
yeast up, and if it &A uotbegin to rise in four
or five hours, stir in a little more meal. When
your yeast rises, sift your flour, put in a little
salt and a piece of butter half as big as a hen's
egg; mix up with warm water; grease your
pans and warm them and fill them half full,
and when the dough rises to the top of the
pan, put it to bake. Bake to a light brown,
then take it out of the pan and wrap it up.—
Bread ought not to be cut under twelve hours
after baking.
A Pointed Sermon.
Many a discourse of an hour's length is not
half as impressivo as this from an eccentric
English Divine:—
"Be sober, grave, temperate."—Tilua i. 8.
I. There aro three companions with whom
you should always keep on good terms:---
1. Your wife.
2. Your stomach.
3. Your conscience.
11. If you wish to enjoy peace, long life, and
happiness, preserve them by temperance. In.
temperance produces :-
1. Domestic misery.
2. Premature death.
3. Infidelity.
To make these points clear, I refer you :
I. To the Newgate Callender.
2. To the hospitals, lunatic naylums, and
work houses.
3. To the past experience of having men,
read and suffered, in mind, body and estate.
tar An Irishman in distress asked a gentle
man for relief. ITe was repulsed with a 'go to
h-11.' Pat looked at him in smelt a way as to
fix his attention, and then replied :
"God bless yer honor for your civility, for
yer the first gintlernan that's invited me to his
father's house since I came til Ameriky
Galileo.
Reading the other day how poor old Galileo
was made to repent of teaching that the earth
revolves upon its axis and around the sun, our
pen unconsciously slid into the enormity of
rhyme, and produced the following homely sort
of sonnet, which is cordially dedicated to all
who believe that there is no salvation out of
the church that took so much pains to save the
heretical astronomer
0 church infallible! 'Ewes well for thee
To make old Galileo bend the knee;
Not that the doctrine hurt thee which ho taught,
But thy groat enemy is human thought:
And how could men believe this mighty world
Around the solar orb is yearly whirled,
And not plunge into such tremendous thinking
As soon to snake thy dearest tenets -7
Let others joke thee for this tilt at truth :
Of all the thousands since thy harmless youth,
Which thou haat tried, with more or less success,
This was the most triumphant, I confess.
If not the Sun, through heaven's eternal cope,
It whirled a son of science round a blockhead
Pope.
Preserving Peaches.
Tho following recipe forpreserving peaches
was obtained from the wife of an experienced
fruit grower.
To twelve pounds of peaches, take six pounds
of clean brown sugar, and ono pint best cider
vinegar. Simmer the sugar and vinegar to.
gether, which will make a clear syrup. Pour
boiling water upon the peaches, and remove
them in two minutes from the water, and wipe
thorn dry without breaking the skin. Put them
into the syrup, and boil gently until the fruit is
cooked to the stone. Keep the preserves in
jars, which must be closely covered and in a
cool place. They should be inspected occa•
sionally, and if a white mould appears upon the
surface of the syrup, it must be carefully skim.
ed off, and the syrup scalded and returned to
the peaches. Tho peach tried last full were a
seedling variety, ripened the last of October.—
They were acid, but preserved the peach flavor
in a high degree, which was retained by this
method in a perfect manner. This is the most
economical, and, to our taste, the very best
preserver we know of.
A Wery Remarkable Diskivery.
A certain deacon in one of our Massachusetts
towns, who was a very zealous advocate for the
cause of temperance, some years since, one hot
summer's day, employed a carpenter to make
some alterations in his parlor. In repairing a
corner of the mop-boatel near the fire place, it
was found necessary to remove the fire-board;
when lo I a "mare's nest" was brought to light,
which astonished the workman most marvel.
lonely. A brace of decanters, sundry junk bot
tles—all containing "something to take," a
pitcher and tumblers, were reposing cozily there
in snug quarters. The carpenter, with wonder
stricken countenance, ran to the proprietor with
the Intelligence.
"Well, I declare," exclaimed the deacon,
"that is c-u-r-i-o•u-s, surely. It must be that
old Capt. D. left those things there when he
occupied the premises, thirty years ago.
"Perhaps ho did," returned the discoverer;
"but, deacon, that ice in the pitcher must have
been well congealed, to have remained solid so
long a timer—Boston Post.
110,.."Judge, you say if I punch a man, oven
in fun, ho can take mo up for assault and bat
tery 7"
"Yes, sir, I said that, and what I said I re
peat. If you punch a man, you are guilty of a
breach of the peace, and can bo arrested for
it."
"Ain't there no exceptions?"
"No, sir; no exceptions whatorcr."
"Judge, I think you aro mistaken. Suppose,
for instance, I should brandy-punch him; then
what ?"
"No levity in court, girl Sheriff, expose this
man to the atmosphere. Call the next ease."
We ALL DAD TO DO tv.—A half scorn of
young urchins worn gathered around a com
panion whose pained &co indicated that ho
was very sick, the result of some juvinile indis.
cretion. Tho little follows were busy offering
their sympathy in various phrases. The truth
was, ho had taken a "chow" of tobacco for the
first time in his life, and having swallowed a
portion of tho weed grew deadly sick. Ono lit
tle follow, who seemed to understand morn ful
ly his companion's situation than any of the
others, gently placed upon the sick boy's shoul
der his hand, and said in a voice of deep con
dolence--
"Never mind, Jimmy, wo had all to go
through this very severe trial I"
cr "Julius, suppose there aro six chickens
in a coop, and the man sells three, how many
are they loft?
"What time ob day was it ?"
"What time ob day was it?' "Why, what
do debble has dat to do with it ?"
"A good deal, honey. If it was dark, dar
wouldn't be none loft, that is if /you happened
to coma along that way."
"Look here, nigger, just stop them posonali
ties. If you don't, I'll explode your head wid
a pump handle, I will, sartain as Moses."
er A lady had taken her morning bath,
when to her surprise she found her invalid hus
band standing at the door. She exclaimed—
" What are you hero for ? I thought you
were asleep."
He replied—
"l heard an angel troubling the water, and
thought I would step in and get healed."
Cr 'I hav'nt seen your wife lately, said a
gentleman to another in an omnibus. 'No,'
was the reply; 'she has retired for a while from
society, for the purpose of attending to ono of
those little affairs which add to tho duties of
the census taker.'
tar "Mien Got I rot vill de Yankee make
next ?" as the Dutchman said the first time he
saw a monkey."
The Bewitched Clock,
A YCIKEIiI STORY.
About half-past eleven o'clock on Sunday
night, a human leg, enveloped in blue broad-
cloth, "might have been seen" entering Den•
con Cophas Barberry's kitchen window. The
log was followed, finally, by the entire person
of a live Yankee, attired in his Sundaygo to•
meotin' clothes. It was, in short, Joe May.
weed who thus burglariously won his way into
the deacon's kitchen.
" Wonder how much the old deacon made
by orderin' me not to darken his doors again?"
soliloquized the young gentleman. "Promised
him I wouldn't, but didn't say nothin' about
winders. Winders is just as good as doors, of
there ain't no nails to tear your trousers onto.
Wonder if Sally 'II come down? The critter
promised me. I'm afeard to move about here,
'cause I might break my shins over somethin'
nuttier, and wake the old folks. Cold enough
to freeze a Polish bear here. 0, here comes
Sally."
Tho beauteous maid descended with a plea
sant smile, a tallow-candle, and a box of lucifer
matches. After receiving a rapturous greeting
she made up a rousing fire in the cooking.,
stove, and the happy couple sat down to enjoy
the sweet interchange of vows and hopes. But
the course of true love ran no smoother in old
Barberry's kitchen than it does elsewhere, and
Joe, who was just making up his mind to treat
himself to a kiss, was startled by the voice of
the deacon, her father, shouting from his cham
ber door :—."Sally 1 What arc you getting up
in the middle of the night fur 7"
"Tell him it's most morning," whispered
"I can't tell a fib I" said Sally.
"I'll make it a truth, then," said Joel and,
running to the huge, old-fashioned clock that
stood in the corner, he set it at five.
"Look at the clock, and tell me what time it
is," cried the old gentleman.
"It's fire, by thC clock," answered Sally; and
corroborating her words, the old clock struck
fivo.
The lovers sat down again and resumed
their conversation. Suddenly the staircase
began to creak. "Goody gracious I It's fa
ther," exclaimed Sally.
"The deacon I by thunder I" cried Joe. "Hide
me, Sally.
"Where can I hide you I" cried the distract
ed girl.
"Oh, I know," said he. "I'll sqneoze into
the clock-ease." And, without another word,
he concealed himself in the case, and closed
the door.
The deacon was dressed, and sitting himself
down by the cooking-stove, pulled out his pipe,
lighted it, and commenced smoking deliberate
ly and calmly. "Five o'clock, eh?" said he.—
"Well, I shall have time to smoke three or four
pipes, and then I'll go and feed the critters."
"Hadn't you bettor feed the critters rust,
sir," suggested the dutiful Sally.
"No; smokin' clears my head, and wakes me
up," replied the deacon, who seemed not a whit
disposed to hurry his enjoyment.
Burr•r•rr—whiez—ding I ding I ding I ding
went the clock.
"Tormented lightning !" cried the deacon,
starting up, and dropping his pipe on the stores
"what'n creation's that?"
"It's only the clock striking five I" said Sally,
tremulously.
Whizz I ding) ding I ding! went the clock
furiously.
"Powers of mercy I' cried the deacon.—
"Strikin' five 1 it's struck a hundred already."
"Deacon Barberry I" cried the deacon's bet
ter half, who had hastily robed herself, and
now came plunging down the staircase in the
wildest state of alarm, "what is the matter with
th^ ,-lock ?"
"Goodness only knows," replied tho old man.
"It's been in tho family theso hundred years,
and never did I know.it to carry on so afore."
Whizz! dingl ding! ding! went tho clock
`"It'll bust itself I" cried the old lady, shod•
ding a flood of tours, "and there won't be no
thin' left of it."
"It's bewitched 1" said tho deacon, who re
tained a leaven of good old Now England su•
perstition in his nature. "Any how," said ho,
after a pause, advancing resolutely towards the
clock, "I'll goo what's got into it."
"Oh, don't," cried his daughter, seizing one
of his coat-tails, while his wifo clung to the
other. 'Don't!" chorussed both the women
W q t . l ort -r go my raiment," shouted the old den
eon. "I ain't Mbar(' of the powers of dark
ness:'
But the women would not lot go; so the
con slipped out of his coat, and whilo, from the
sudden cessation of resistance, they fell beavi•
ly on tho floor, ho darted forward, and laid his
hand upon tho clock-case. But no human
power could open it. Joo was holding it in•
side with a death-grasp. The old deacon began
to be dreadfully frightoncd. He gave one more
tug. An unearthly yell, as of a fiend in dis
tress, burst from the inside, and then tho clock
case, pitched headforemost at the deacon, fell
headlong on the floor, smashed its face, and
wrecked its fair proportions. Tho current of
air extinguished the lamp—the deacon, the old
lady, and Sally, fled up stairs, and Joo Afar
weed, extricating himSolf from the clock, of
footed his escape in the same way in which he
entered.
The next day all Appleton was alive with tho
story of how Deacon Barberry's clock had been
bewitched, and though many believed his ver
sion, some, and especially Joe Mayweed, af•
fected to discredit the whole affair, hinting that
the deacon had been trying the experiment of
tasting frozen eider, and that the vagaries of
the clock existed only in a distempered imagi-
nation.
However, the interdict being taken off, Joe
was allowed to resume his courting, and won
the consent of the old people to his union with
Sally, by repairing the old clock till it went as
well as ever.
NO. 37.
a&EnovrptazL.
From the Farm Journal.
To Prevent Fly in Wheat.
MESSRS. EDITORS :
The wheat crop, in
many parts of our country having been more
or lees injured by the fly, permit me through
the medium of your useful Journal, to recom
mend brining the seed for the ensuing crop.—
The benefit of this preparation has been ac
counted for by some on the hypothesis of the
insect egg being deposited in tho grain, and
consequently destroyed by the soaking. Others
assert the egg is deposited in the shoot, and if
this bo the ease, the soaking of the seed can
only deter the fly by the earlier and more vig
cross start of the plant. But however opera
ting; cqrtain I am, from experience, that this
preparation of the seed, has the desired effect.
I gave this preparation of seed a trial many
years back, when the fly had been very injuri•
ous for three or four years is succession. and
my crops escaped, while those around, although
in every other respect as carefully farmed and
manured, were injured exceedingly. And,in:a
recent conversation with an old farmer from a
distance, ho observed, the wheat crop in his
vicinity was much injured and straggled, but
that his stood all erect, and had produced a
full Crop. This difference he attributed entire.
ly to having thus prepared his seed, and added,
he had never known it fail to prevent the fly
injuring the wheat crop.
Farmers disposed to try the experiment, will
accept the following hints.
I proceeded thus :—Having bored and inch
and a half augur hole on ono side the bottom
of an open hogshead, I placed it on trussels on
the barn floor, high enough to put buckets under
to receive the brine when drawn off. Then from
below, drive in a vile, andplacc over its point
inthe hogshead, an old tin cup, perforated with
awl holes—then half fill with water and a half
bushel of salt. This done in the forenoon, to.
ward evening the salt (frequently stirred) will
he dissolved, when the wheat is poured in, fill
ing to six inches of the rim, as this will admit
of brine sufficient over the grain to supply the
sinking of the brine by absorption. Early next
morning the brine is drawn off, the grainapread
on the floor, and pulverized lime (two or three
pecks) spread over and mixed with it. This
absorbs the moisture, and prevents the grains
sticking together.
As seed prepared thus swells considerable,
there is of course not so many groins in pro.
portion to bulk, and this makes it necessary in
sowing the soaked seed, to grasp larger hand
fuls than when sowing dry seed, otherwise the
seeding may he thinner than intended.
Mater Co., Aug. 10, '53.
The Thriftless Farmer.
Tho Fort Warm Times, given the following
life like portrait of a "thriftless farmer."
The thriftless farmer, then, provides no slid
ter for his cattle; during the inclemency of the
winter; but permits them to stand shivering
by the side of a fence, or lie in the snow, as
best suits them.
He throws their fodder on the ground, or in
the mud, and not ;Infrequently in the highwny;
by which a large portion of it, and all the ma
nuro is wasted.
Ho grazes his meadows In the fall and spring,
by which they aro gradually exhausted and
finally ruined.
His fences are old and poor—just such ns to
lot his neighbor's cattle break into his fields
and teach his own to be unruly, and spoil his
crops.
He negleete to keep the manurefrom around
the sills of his barn—if he has one—by which
they are permaturcly rotted, and his barn de•
stroyed.
110 tills, or skims over the surface of his
land, until it is exhausted; but never thinks it
worth while to manors or clover it. For the
first ho has no time, for the last, he "is not
able."
Ile has a place for nothing, and nothing is
its place. He, consequently, wants a hoe or a
rake, or a hammer, or an augur, but lcnows not
where to find them, and loses much time.
_ _
Ile loiters away stormy days and evenings
whon ho should be repairing his utensils, or
improving his mind by reading useful books,or
newspapers.
He spends much time in town, at the corner
of tho street, or in the snake holes, complaining
of 'hard times,' and goes home in the evening,
pretty well 'lore.'
no hits no shed for his fire-wood—conse
quently his wife is out of humor, and his meals
out of season.
Ife plants a few fruit trees, and his cattle
forthwith destroy them. Re 'has no luck in
raising fruit.'
One-half of the little ho raises is destroyed
by his own or his neighbor's cattle.
His plow, dray, and other implements, lie all
winter in the field where last used; and just ai
lie is getting in a hurry, the next season, his
plow breaks, because it was not housed and
properly carers for.
domobody's hogs break in, and destroy his
garden, becauso he had not stopped a bolo in
the fence, that he had been intending to atop
fora week.
Ho is often in a great hurry, but will atop
and talk as long as ho can find any one to talk
with.
Ho has, of course, little money, and when he
must raise some to pay his taxes, Itc.,he raises
it at a great sacrifice, in some way or other, by
paying an enormous shave, or by selling his
scanty crop when prices are low.
}leis a year behind, instead of being a year
ahead of hisbusiness—and always will be.
When he pays a debt, it is at the end of an
execution; consequently, his credit is at a low
ebb.
If the Printer wants a quarter of beef, or a
few bushels of oats or potatoes, on his bill, out
farmer "has none tcopare."