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UNCLE SAM'S FARM.
Of all the mighty nations
In the east or in the west,
0, this glorious Yankee nation
Is the greatest and the best.
We have room for all creation,
And our banner is unfurled;
Here's a general invitation
To the people of the world.
Then come along, come along, make no delay,
Come from every nation, come from every way,
mr lands they're broad enough don't be alarm 'd
Uncle Sam is rich enough to give us all a farm.
St. Lawrence marks our Northern line,
As fast her waters flow,
And the Rio Grande our southern bound,
'May down to Mexico.
From the great Atlantic Ocean,
Where the sun 'gins to go down,
Leap across the Rocky Mountains
Far away to Oregon.
Then come along, &c.
While the South shall raise the Cotton,
And the West the Corn and Pork,
New England Manufactories
Shall do the finer work;
For the deep flowering waters falls
That course along our hills,
Are just the thing for washing sheep
And driving Cotton Mills.
Then come along, &e.
Our fathers gave us liberty,
But little did they dream,
The grand results that pour along
This mighty age of Steam;
For our mountains, lakes and rivers
Are all a blaze Of fire,
And we send our news by lightning
On the Telegraph wire.
Then come along, &c.
Yes! we're bound to beat the nations,
For our motto's "Go AHEAD,"
And we'll tell the foreign paupers
That our people are well fed ;
For the nations must remember
That Uncle Sam's no fool,
For the people do the voting,
And the children go to school.
Then come along, .te.
BY TILE REV. C. B. WEAVER.
Home will always be woman's world. She
will be queen over its rich and far.stretching
realms. In the studies of home, she will carve '
the statuary of her moral heroism, and picture
the spiritual beauty of her faith and love.—
Ilome is her kingdom, and she will always
reign over it. Though she may go out to do 1
great deeds of goodness in the world, though
she may speak from forums, teach from college
chairs, write books, fill offices of trust and pro
fit, go on missions of truth, pence and mercy,
among her fellows, she will still love best of all
places, the sequestered scene of home. I would
mot, either by law, or custom. or public opinion,
confine woman's powers to the routine of do
mestic duties. I would open the whole world
to her, and tell her to find employment, useful
ness and happiness, where she can; but in so
doing, I shall feel that not a home would be
•dissoluted, not a woman would become less a
lover and blesser of home. On the contrary
woman would love her home all the more, and
ueako it all the purer and nobler. 'She would
choose its sweet vocations, not from the stern
dictation of society, but from her soul's choice.
Every family must have a home; and every
Immo must have a head, a heart, a guardian.
Woman is nobly fitted to fill this responsible
post of honor and trust. But let her do it from
'choice. Do not compel her to do it. Woman
don't like compulsion. It is not human to like
compulsion. Give to woman the same freedom
you do to man. Open the whole width of the
field of life to her, and she will choose with
avidity her own appropriate place. She has a
strong sense of propriety, and a good judgment
in the choice of her sphere of activity.
Every young woman should early form in
her mind an ideal of a tree home. It should
not be the ideal of a place but of the character
of home. Place does not constitute homes.—
Many a gilded palace and luxury is not a home.
Many a flower-girt dwelling:and splendid man
eloll, lacks all the essentials of home. A hovel
is often more a home than a palace. If the
spirit of congenial friendship link not the
hearts of the inmates of a dwelling, it is not a
home. B . lov6 reign not there, if charity spread
not her downy mantle over all; if peace prevail
Tinting 011 7 101 rnilL
" I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT THE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OF THE UNITED STATES."-.[WEDSTER,
not; if contentment he not a meek and merry
dweller therein; if virtue rear not her bewail's'
children; and religion come not in her white
robe of gentleness to lay her hand in benedic
tion on every head, the home is not complete.
We aro all in the habit of building for ourselves
ideal homes. But they are generally made up
of outward things, a house, a garden, a car
riage, and the ornaments and appendages of
luxury. And if in our lives we do not realize
our ideals, we make 'ourselves miserable, and
our friends miserable. Half the women in our
country are unhappy, because their homes are
not so luxurious as they wish.
Somebody has snore ornament and style
about their homes than they, and so they wor
ry their souls to death about it. This is one
of the most fruitful sources of disquiet in near
ly all our homes. Our women want more show,
fashion, luxury, outward ornament than they
can afford or than is necessary to their happi
ness. All around us there is a great sea of
disquiet from this one cause. We forget that
homes are not made up of material things.—
It is not a fine house, rich furniture, a luxuri
ous table, a flowery garden, and a superb car
riage that make a home. A world-wide dis
tance from this is a true home. Our ideal
homes should be heart-homes, in which virtues
live, and love flowers bloom, and peace offer
ings are daily brought to its altar. Our ideal
homes should be such as we can and will maks
in our own lives. We should not expect homes
better and happier than we are. Ocr homes
will be sure to be much like us. If we are good
kind and happy our homes will be likely to be.
If we are craving, selfish, discontented our
homes will be. If all the wealth in the world
were laid at our feet and lavished on our homes,
we should not be happier unless our hearts are
better. Wealth, luxury, ornament, bring care,
anxiety and a craving for more, which render
them nearly valueless unless the heart is filled
with virtue and contentment. If I could Mod
erate the material desires of the young women
I address, and elevate their spiritual longings
in relation to their future homes, I should do a
good service to thefts and their families. The
grand idea of home is a quiet, secluded spot
where loving hearts dwell, set apart and dedi
cated to improvement, to intellectual, moral and
social improvement. It is not a formal school
of staid solemnity and rigid discipline, where
virtue is made a task and progress a sharp ne
cessity; but a free and easy exercise of all our
spiritual limbs in which obedience's a pleasure,
discipline a joy, improvement a self-wrought
delight. All the duties and labors of home,
•when rightly understood, are so many means
of improvement. Even the trials of home, for
every home must have its trials, and severe
ones too, are so many rounds in the ladder of
spiritual progress, if we but make them so.
One idea concerning home should be deeply
impressed on our minds. Of all places in the
world, home is the most delicate and sensitive.
Its springs of action are subtle and secret. Its
chords move with a breath. Its fires are kind
' led with a spark. Its flowers are bruised with
the least rudeness. The influence of our homes
strikes so directly on our hearts that they make .
sharp impressions. In our intercourse with the
world were barricaded and the arrows let fly at
our hearts are warded off; but not so with us
at home. Hero our hearts wear no covering,
no armor. Every arrow strikes them; every
cold wind blows full upon them; every storm
beats against them. What in the world we
would pass by in sport, in our homes will wound
us to the quick. Very little can we bear at
home. Homo is a sensitive place. If we
would have it a true home, we must guard well
' our words and actions. We must bo honest
and kind, constant and true to the very extent
of our capacity. All little occasions of offence
and misapprehension should be avoided. Little
things make up the web of our life at home.—
Little things stake us happy and little things
make us miserable. A word, a hint, a look,
has power to transport us with joy, or sting us
with anguish. If we would make our homes
what they should be we must attend faithfully
to the little things which make them so.
Our life abroad is but a reflex of what it is
at home. We snake ourselves in a great man
ner at home. This is especially true of woman,
The woman who is rude, coarse and vulgar at
home cannot be expected to be amiable, chaste
and refined in the world. Her home habits
will stick to her. She cannot shake them off.
They aro woven into the web of her life. Her
home language will be first on her tongue.—
Her home by-words will come out to mortify
her just when she wants most to hide them in
her heart. Her home vulgarities will show
thoir hideous forms to shock her most when
she wants to appear her best. Her home
coarseness will appear most when she is in the
most refined circles, and appearing there will
abash her more than elsewhere. All her home
habits will follow her. They have become a
sort of second nature to her.
Every young woman should feel that just
what she is at home she will appear abroad.—
If she attempts to appear otherwise, everybody
will soon see through the attempt. Wo can't
cheat the world long about our real characters.
The thickest and most opaque mask we can
put on will soon become transparent. This
fact we should believe without a doubt. De
ception most often deceives itself. The decei
ver is the most deceived. The liar is often the
only one cheated• The young woman who
pretends to be what she is not, believes her
pretense is not understood. Other people laugh
in their sleeves at her foolish pretensions. If
young women were what they ought to be at
home they would never have to put on a mask
when they go into company. How uncomfort
able it must be to have to cover up the home
character the moment we appear iu the world.
Nothing should be said or done at home that
would make us appear in a bud light in the
world. If this one rule is constantly kept how
pleasant will be our homes, how proper our
habits, how beitutiful our lives. How easy and
graceful will become our home manners, how
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 31, 1854.
elegant and appropriate our home language,
how pure and lovely our home characters.—
Homo excellencies are the ones we should cov
et. Home morality and religion are the beat.
Home love and worth only are real and lasting.
Home virtue is foe the skies. A home woman
of worth is the most beautiful and lovely wo•
man in the world. A home•character is the
one that will stand the scrutiny of the All•See
ing•Eye. If these were the last words I had
to say to young women, I would say, be at
home what you would be abroad, what you
ought to be everywhere, what all good people
would have you, what God requires you to be.
VISION OF LIFE,
An analysis of the Spiritual Experience
of Dr. beater.
lam seeing. lam upon a hill that overlooks
a most beautiful valley, sheltered on each side
by gentle mountains, whose tops are rounded
off in graceful lines, and their surface cultivated
on all sides to the plain.
To the spirit eye, a glimpse of that which is
to be its home makes indeed his soul throb and
palpitate with joy. How ecstatic to the eye to
see that which has been so long a mystery and
scaled! Wonder not, then, that the spirit's
own motion should communicate its feelings to
There are cattle here on a thousand hills.—
The air is so bright and so pure, the grain, as
it bows to the gentle salutation of the breeze,
seems like globules of gold dancing joyously
in the sun. It is morning, too, and the dew is
on gras and flower. The sun is just rising
over those mountains ou the left. How Na.
tnre sparkles in her dewy diamonds. The
song of those birds goes up like heaven's own
music, as it comes from the celestial spheres
rich with the the love of God. That river, too,
how silent it moves along through the valley,
and yet its waters are whispering its morning
salutation to God. The air, the earth, the
stream, the flowers. the trees, and the cattle,
all send up notes or praise to the Creator. I
see all this, and my heart feels its beauty.
On either side of the river the landscape is
most beautiful—the two banks of the stream
seemingly alike. The fields of grain, of grass,
and flowers are laid out in wo ederful regularity.
A road is on either bank winding along the ri
ver, half embowered in foilage sad flowers.
I descend this mountain and reach the shore.
There is a tiny boat moored at the water's edge.
Lester the boat freely, and yet, as it were, with
out my own will. I seem bourne by an invis
ible hand, to whose impulses I willingly yield.
In the boat is no sail, no our—yet as soon as
I enter it, it moves out upon the water; and
now on this bright mirror—on this silent and
gentle bosom of the stream—l float down amid
Oh where, indeed, am I ?—whither am I
going, and what is this lesson which is trught
me? Flowers skirt each bank, and there are
little nooks and indentations is the shore, which
seem designed porposely for nestling places for
the many water-fowls I see before me.
I sailed on. I see no human being. On
each side are fields and groves and gardens laid
out with taste and beauty. Scattered over the
grass fields and lassies are cattle, sheep. and
horses; and I see many animals with which I
am not familiar.
The sun has now risen above the mountains,
and now shines down with full splendor upon
the varying scene. How bright and beautiful
is every thing T see ! What luster to all that
grows! The rose's tint is more delicate, its
perfume is softer, its leaves are greener, the
trees are taller, grander, and more magnificent!
And there is such a heavenly calm to every
thing, its influence fulls upon my soul like
happy dream. This candot be of earth!
I am still in the tiny boat floating down the
stream. I do not guide it or propel it—yet it
moves on. Whither um I going? The still,
smooth surface of this river is before me, and I
do not raise a ripple upon it in my progress.—
But the course of the stream seems changed.
It moves faster. The surface is now ruffled,
and the current unequal. There is some diffi
culty in getting along with this bout, and yet I
do nothing to it. It seems to be managed by
invisible hands. It now makes a ripple upon
the bosom of the water—the spray begins to fly
from the bow. How bright, how cold it falls !
I shake off the drops that shower upon me, and
they sparkle like electricity.
There is a change in the scene. The valley
grows narrower. The mountains are high and
rocky, the fields are uneven and rugged, and
less cultivated. I go faster. The water is no
longer clear; it has grown turbid. The shores
are rocky, and the waves dash upon them.—
Rocks are in the stream, and the waves dash
over them with fury. The stream is white with
foam, and the mountains reverberate the sullen
How strange is every thing here and how
wild, yet Ido not fear. I have the power and
the will to go on, though the waters grow still
more turbulent. The mountains grow higher
and steeper. I see no more the golden fields
of grain—l see not the corn and the flowers
nor the stately trees. I hear no more the song
of birds nor the lowing of cattle. The land
scape grows dim, and I feel the restlessness of
the scene. Is it the tall and black mountains
that so shut out the light, or is night approach
ing? I have not seen a soul in my progress.
I wonder where are all the human beings that
should have made part of the scene. I see no
cattle—l see only wild beasts prowling upon
the mountain sides amid the cleft and rugged
rocks, entangled with rotting timber and stun
How swift the water runs ! and yet I have no
fear. There is a strange restlessness about ev
ery thing I see. I see no motion, but 7 feel
there is Isere an unrest, of whichnven the rocks
It has grown dark. i can no longer see the
ebure. The water looks as if its wave, wertrul
ink, and I hear the black mass dashing its fel},
upon the iron shore.
It is utterly dark. What a feeling has come
over me! I hear the wail of those mountains
and I feel their disquietude. I hear this flood
that bears me on I know not whither. All is
dark above, below, around me. All is silent
save the roar of the angry waters and the mur
mur of the mountains. Shall Igo on? whith
er shall I turn? why am I here? what have I
done that I should be placed in this fearful ha
zard? what new world is to open before me ?
• A. feeling of loneliness creeps over me. I
hear nothing but the sad and strange wail which
speaks of the unrest pervading the air, the earth,
and the water. My own flesh partakes of the
trembling restlessness of the scene. .
How swiftly plunges on my boat, yet guided
by some mighty power, else must it have been
dashed to pieces! All is the blackness of a
starless midnight. I still hear the angry dash
ing of the inky waves upon the shores, and
mingling with their roaring comes the same
deep wail of sorrow. It seems as tf Nature in
conjunction wills toy own soul was passing
through some terrible agony.
The boat has stopped, and I turn round in
the darkness; but can see nothing. But amid
the wild dissonance of the tumultous:waves and
the weird wail of Nature a voice is heard. It
comes, as if in a patls by itself through the
black air. and reaches my heart. It says,
"Truth is not to be bought—not to be sold.—
It can not be obtained as a gift, but must be
earned by labor. God might have faltered
when he looked upon his creation and saw the
immensity of work before him, if he had been
impelled by his own will not to earn the truth
by Isis labor. Shall man then falter because
there is darkness on the one hand and on the
other, because the sky is black and the crater
is as ink, and there is a wall on both sides, and
before him thick darkness and uncertainty ?
Shall man falter, than, because in Isis attempts
to undo the evil lie has done thtre should ho
great and mighty labor?
"Tho light that shall guide yen is in your
own soul. Its rays are sufficient to illumine
the pathway before you. The light is eternal,
for it comes from God."
lam standing still. I hear the waters, I feel
the mountains, and the air is so thick it wraps
me in its black embrace like a pall. Great
God I shall Igoon ? Oh, if you could see I
Oh, if you could me as Ido now I There comes
streaming over the dark face of that water a
dawn of light I—Sacred Circle,
Up-Hp and Down-Hill Coughing.
That tatenquered enemy of man, Consump
tion, is so dreaded, that even the word cannot
be lightly spoken, and we would not for the
world trifle upon such a subject. Yet who can
help laughing at WILLIS—who by the way has
long been a pulmonary invalid—in his disco,
cries for the benefit of friends suffering like
himself. The Poet looks this Northern destroy.
er in the face, and treats him with a familiarity
which in itself would be a lease oflife for years,
to any pair of weak lungs on the Northern bor•
It is astonishing how long this enemy can
he fought off by resolution and cheerfulness;
his victims would number many less, did not
despondency lend its powerful aid in hastening
on an event which in many eases but for the
imagination would be postponed for years.
WILLIS in one of his Idlewild letters, has ap
plied hydraulics to the matter of coughing, and
now that wearing and painful operation, must
be classed among the sciences. His labor sa
ving suggestions, however romanticized by his
peculiar style, have a common sense applica
tion which duly appreciated and acted upon,
may bring 'sleep to the eyes and slumber to the
eyelids' of many a weary victim of pulmonary
disease. Wit.ras one night in speculating up
on the noes of a cough came to the conclusion
that it was designed as n stomach pump, and
absolutely necessary for relief to the lungs, in
the removal of secretions, hence, palliatives at
night only stopped the pump temporarily, to in
crease its task in the morning. The idea struck
him, that lying with the head higher than the
stomach required increased power in this pump,
and more strokes of the piston to force the se
cretions up hill, hence a change of level by
bringing the head lower than the stomach,
would hasten the discharge and sooner pump
the cistern dry. In a wont that down-hill cough
ing would be more efficacious than up-hill cough
ing. The experiment he describes as follows:
I leaned over the side of the bed, and, with
my hand rested on the round of a chair for
support, tried the experiment. It aggravated
the cough immediately—or, rather, it so in.
creased its ejection of the mucous fluid that it
seemed the result of a vomit. But I was tran
quilized and went to sleep immediately after.
In four or five minutes the down-hill cough
seemed to do the work which which uphill,
would have occupied hours. It is somewhat
for the same effect, perhaps, that most cough
medicines are based upon ipecac. But the ad.
vantage of doing it by posture is that the stom
ach is not weakened by medication.
I have a month or two of experience, on
which to ground my recommendation of this
alleviative to my co•pulmonary friends. I get
through with my night's irritations of throat,
now, habitually, by thus increasing and expe
diting them in one hour's work, or, oftener, a
few minutes of violent and spasmodic cough.
ing, instead of a slow and irritating bark for
six or seven hours. The sleep after it has the
lull of rest after fatigue. The cleansed tongue
in the morning shows that the lining of the
stomach had its airing attended to, while the
lines around the eyes read like a certificate of
•'1 say, Mr. Printer, do you take Peunsylva
What is the reason—aint it good?'
"Why don't you take it then?
Cheating the Printer.
A man who would cheat the printer would
steal a meetinghouse and rob a churchyard,
If he had a soul, ten thousand of its size would
have more room in a mosquito's eye than a
building in the Pacific Ocean. He ought to
be winked at by blind people, and kicked across
logs by cripples.—Ann Harbor Wolverine.
Amen! such a being would steal the moles.
ses out of a sick negro's ginger•cake, take from
a drunken man's mouth Isis last chew of tobac•
co, walk at night through the rain to deprive a
blind sheep of its fodder: travel fifty miles on a
fasting stomachs to cheat a dying woman out
of her coffin, and steal wax out of a dead hog's
ears. Such a man ought to be tied to a sueep's
tail and bunted to death.—Florence Inquirer.
Exactly so, and that isn't all. He would
break a surveyor's level to get out the alcohol,
and his wife's watch for the mock jewels; bid
against a widow at her dead husband's auction,
steal the shoe strings before daylight, and rob
a dead cobbler of his awl.—Tensperanee. Ban.
Yes, thousands of such souls as tnat man's
would rattle in a mustard seed, dance contra
dances on the point of a wasp sting, or march
abreast through the eye of a cambric needle.—
A solar microscope would fitil to discover them
and when found they would not fill the smal
lest cranny in creation.—Thidson Post.
Yes, and that ain't all. Such a fellow would
rob a lame goose's nest of the last egg, steal a
rat's tail from a blind kitten, for there is noth
ing low that he would not do. He should be
tied up to a broom stick and scolded to death
by old maids, and then his bones should be
made into buttons to he worn on the breeches
of convicts.—Rising Sur► :Virror.
That's a fact, and that ain't all. Such a
scoundrel would steal the clothes from his mo
ther's bed on a cold night, and take his father's
coffin to ride down hill on. A mats like this
ought to have the seven year itch, and not al.
lowed to scratch.—Suturday Gaz.
All the above ought to be mere preliminary
sufferings, the prologue to the swelling act' of
his final doom. He should be eventually con
signed to topliet, where his perpetual punish
ment would be, to read the newspaper squibs
perpetrated at his expense.—Sultddy Times.
We will not attempt to add a syllable to this
eategOry of mean things, as we have not the
words in our vocabulary, but we freely endorse
the whole. Our friend Mills, however, who
can always put the finishing touch to any story
or expression, says: 'that man would make a
fire of the family Bible to boil up Isis grandmo
ther for soap grease:—West Greenville (Pa.)
Such a man would sell his mother's soul for
a three cent piece, and if perchance he is in
possession of a soul at nll, it is so infinitely
small, it will be enabled to pass in and out of
heaven's gate unperceived by Omnipresent's
Don't talk about such fellow's souls! They
have none. According to the philosophy of some
people, at the very instant one person dies, an
other is born, and the soul of one passes into
the body of the other. When such beings as
above described are born, nobody could have
died! Give us, if you please, ordinary robbers,
thieves and cat throats for companions; but
from curls consummate scoundrels no these,
'gond Lord deliver us.'—Watertown Chronicle.
Hold on Brothers, we are astonished at your
talk about men and souls of such things; they
are some of Satan's Cubs broke loose from his
so plagy stingy that he wont take the papers
Satanic Majesty's dominions and are not ne-
now, and we dont know nothing—well, who
countable things among earth's inhabitants, Preached ?'
nothing is too mean for them, they would feed
and glut themselves upon the dead bodies of 'What did he preach about ?'
their departed friends.— Kennska Tribune. 'lt was on the death of our Saviour.'
To the above we have nothing further to one, ; 'Why is he dead? _I did n't lame be teas sick!'
for there is nothing too mean for them to d o . I Well, all Boston might be dead, and we know
They would steal the oats from a blind horse I nothing about it I It won't do, must have the
news•paper again, for every thing goes wrong
awl sell them for shoe pegs; pinch the Eagle
from a half dollar for the sake of the feathers, 'without the paper? Bill has almost lost his
and visit slaughter•houses and gather up the ' reading, and Polly has got right mopish again
because she has got no poetry to read. If we
hoofs of dead animals to make soup of. If there
arc any such in this country send them to us, have to fade a cart load of potatoes and onions
we will spare a half dollar to buy a hemp cord to market, I must havea newspaper.
to hang themselves with.— Trellsboro' Adverti- A PUZZIAL—The following arithmetical pro-
Fashion rides the world, and a most tyranni
cal mistress she is—compelling people to sub
mit to the most inconsistent thing imaginable,
for fashion's sake.
She pinches our feet with tight shoes—or
cloaks us with a tight handkerchief, or squeez
es our breath out of our body by tight lacing;
she makes people sit up by night when they
ought to be in bed, and keeps them in bed
when they ought to be up and doing. She
makes it vulgar to wait on one's self, and gen
teel to live idle and useless.
She makes people visit when they would
rather be at home; eat when they are not hun
gry, and drink when they are not thirsty.
She invades our pleasure and interrupts our
She compels the people to dress gayly—
whether upon their property or that of others,
whether agreeable to the word of God or the
dictates of pride.
She ruins health and produces sickness—de
stroys life and occasions premature death.
She makes foolish parents, invalids of chil
dren, and servants of us all.
She is a tormentor of conscience, despoiler
of morality, an enemy to religion, and no one
can be her companion and enjoy either.
She is a despot of the highest grade, full of
intrigue and cunning—and yet husbands, wives,
fathers, mothers, eons, daughters, and servants,
black and white, voluntarily have become her
servants and slaves, vie with one another to
see who shall be most obsequious.
ler l'lll3 CZAR'S IDEA OF AN ANGEL—Ni
cholas has called his brother-ht law, the King
of Prussia, "an Angel of Peace." An Angel
—after the Russian view—has of course two
Care for Small• Pox, Scarlatina, and Mea.
A merchant and ship-owner of this city has
had the ffillowing recipe sent him from Eng
land, where it was furnished by Mr. Larkin,
member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and
who vouches for it as a "Medicine that will ef
fect a revolution in the healing art. as regards
the prevention and cure not only for small-pox,
but also of measles and scarlatina, however
malignant the type, in a manner more efficient
and extraordinary than could ever have been
hitherto anticipated, even by the most ardent
"On the first appearance of fever or irrita
tion ushering in attacks, whether occurring in
families or large communities, the subjoined
mode of treatment shauld at once be entered
on s—Take one grain each of powdered fox
glove or digtalis—valuable in the ratio of its
greenness, the dark should be rejected—and
one of sulphate of zinc—this article is com
monly known as white vitriol. These should
be rubbed thoroughly in a mortar or other CO. I
venient vessel, wills four or five drops of water;
this dose, a noggin—or about four ounces—
more, with some syrup or sugar, should be ad
ded. Of this mixture a table-spoonful should
be given ass adult, and two tea-spoonfuls to a
child, every second hour, until symptoms of
"Thus conducted, convalescence, as if by
magic, will result. The rapidity of an event
so auspicious will equally delight and astonish.
It may, however, be necessary further to note,
that should the bowels become obstructed in
the progress of this disease, an evil by no
means common, then a draclun of the com•
pound powder of jalap—formed of two part
cream of tartar with one of jalap—and one
grain of herb, treated as above, formed into a
pastil, with syrup or sugar, should be given to
an adult, and half the quantity to a child. This
simple medicine shuts out every other form or
article whatever, as totally unnecessary, if not
The inethodus medicandi of these medicines,
capable of effecting results so gigantic, remains
now only to be given, and appear to be follows.
The herb, by its anti-febrile properties, lays
hold at once of the fever, prolific source of woe,
which it immediately strangles, while the zinc
nets the part of a tonic, instantly restoring the
Mr. Larkin adds: "No emigrant or govern
ment vessel should hereafter he allowed to put
to sea without a few pence worth of the protec.
tors; and it is further ardently hoped that, as
the dearest interests of our common humanity
are so vitally involved in this discovery, the
press of all countries will give publicity to this
Didn't take the Newspaper.
Some lime ago a lady noticing that a neigh.
bar was not in her seat at church one sabbuth,
called on her return home to inquire what could
have happened to detain so punctual an atten
dant. On entering the house she found the
family busy at work. She was surprised when
her friend addressed her.
'Why, la! where have you been to day, dyes
sed in your Sunday clothes ?'
'Why, what day is it ?'
'Sabbath day !
'Sal, stop washing in a minute ! Sabbath
'Well, T didn't know, for my husband has got
blem will exercise some of the boys to cipher
out. It is as follows:
A boy was travelling on a turn-pike and came
to a toll-gate with no money and nothing but a
few apples to pay his toll. The gate-keeper
took half his apples and a half a one over, and
let him pass. At the next gate he gave half
the apples he had left and a half a one over.
At the third gate he gave half he had left and
half of one over. lie did not cut an apple and
his tolls took all lie had. How many had he?
Mir It strikes us that the lady who thinks
of nothing else but her beauty, her flashing
dress, and frothy novels, will find herself in a
melancholy fix when old Time shall have
scratched her pretty face full o 4 wrinkles, and
exploded her romantic dreams by the realities
of old age. Surely it will be taking away her
gods, and what will she have left? We have
seen some such who had nothing left but des
peration, the full and terrible weight of which
fell open the devoted heads of divers sufferers
in the shape of husbands, he., who were suffi
ciently sensible that intelligence in the old was
as attractive as beauty in the young,. Women
in their early years should be mindful that as
life advances they cease to have any other at
tractions but those which arise from a cultiva
ted intellect and heart, and therefore should
study sensible books, and cultivate their heads
CALIFORNIA Lvaics.-7- - We clip the following
stanza from a patriotic contribution to the No.
Keep your eye everfixed on the American Eagle,
Whom we as the proud bird of our destiny
For that wise fowl you never can inveigle
By depositing salt on his venerable tail I
VW Printers' accounts arc said to like faith,
"the substance. of things hoped for, and the cv.
of glingii not ieen,''
VOL. 19. NO. 22.
The Best Fowl. for Farmers,
My brooded fowls do not prove equally pro
fitable; the Polands, being 3 arded and well fed,
having lime and gravel and a little fresh meat,
have laid more eggs than most other varieties;
but when without meat the eggs have been few.
My Bolton Grays have eaten little and laid
well, without sitting; but several littersof their
chickens have all been eaten by the rats, and
I have labored in vain to raise any, where rats
could not go to them.
The golden Pheasants are more beautiful,
and •have laid almost continually, and none of
their chickens have been taken, though run•
ning upon the same grounds with the Grays.
The Gray chickens are weekly, while the
Pheasants are too sprightly to be caught.
G ujjderlands, after being with a cock of any
variety, produce half-breeds at first, but the
second litter was obviously pure. They lay the
largest egg, though less in number, and propa-
gate their marks of parity like a wild original
The Black Shanghais find no demand for,
nor any satisfactory specifications of their
faults, leaving us to reflect upon their likeness
to an unfortunate race. The White are deli
cate, and do not rear as well. I have 7 chick
ens hatched from 60 eggs, and 5 of them lived,
while nearly all of the Buff color hatched and
are doing well.
I can discover no utility in the longer legs
and necks of the Cochin Chinas, yet their great
size and other faultless qualities speak volumes
in their praise. Of the eight varieties which I
breed, the Buff Shanghais (sometimes called
red and yellow) I like best. With me they
have reared the best, even the common Dung.
hill not excepted. They have laid a good num
ber of large eggs of the best quality, and have
nursed their brood well. Those of the best
stock weigh from Bto 10 pounds. One of my
breeders weighed 83 pounds, and another 9i
If the farmer who has not yards for separate
breeding would supplant all others with this
variety, it could not fail to increase his income.
And when the hen fever shall be past, and its
high prices fall away, his chickens in common
market would sell not for a shilling, but for a
half a dollar, and give a proportionable supply
of the finest meat at home.—Ohio Cultivator.
Tomatoes and Lima Beans.
During the early part of the growth of either
of these crops, the surface of the soil should be
frequently disturbed. When tomatoes have
set their fruit, they should be shortened in, and
it may be deferred until the largest of the fruit
is of half size, when it may be readily observed
that 90 per cent. of the fruit is within 18 inch•
es of the ground, while 90 per cent. of the vine
or bush is beyond that distance. The vine
therefore, should be trimmed in within half au
inch of the tomato nearest the end of each--
this will admit sun and air freely, and although
10 per cent. of the tomatoes that might have
grown will be taken away, still the remaining
portion will be greater in weight and measure,
than if the vine had not been shortened in.—
Tomatoes are also several days earlier by this
treatment, and therefore bring a much higher
price in the market.
Lima Bean vines are usually suflered to wind
themselves around a polo 12 or 15 feet high,
and before the vine reaches the top of the polo
some beans are already of a size to be pulled,
near its bottom. Limo Beans should be pinch
ed off when 51 feet high, and they will readily
throw out side shoots well filled with pods,
which will ripen before frost; whereas, when
not shortened in, the beans on the upper ends
of the vine cannot perfect themselves in time
to be saved. It is unfair to expect a gill of sap
to travel through 40 feet of vine wrapped
around a pole, and make a perfect bean at the
extreme end of it. The immense amount of
imperfect and half formed vine through which
it has to travel, causes too great an evaporation
of moisture before arriving at its point of des.
tination. The Lima Bean with us is an exotic,
and its behaviour during growth is very differ
ent from its habit where native, and therefore
the mode of cultivation, as with the tomato,
peach, &c.. must compensate for these Moron
cos.— Working Farmer._
Transplanting Cabbages and other plants
from hot-beds shotild be done when the ground
is not wet; for, if worked in this state, it will be
reduced to sort of mortar, and left hard and
full of cracks when it becomes dry. The enrth
should be just so moist as to be capable of be.
ing finely pulverized, so that it may, when pres
sed about the roots, touch them in every part
and lie close about them; and it should be fresh
ly dug or stirred up before the operation. Cab
bage will live and thrive better when transplan
ted in a fine mellow and moderately moist soil,
under a hot sun, than when placed in a wet soil
during rainy weather. Much more indeed de
pends on the mode of the operation than on
the state of the weather.
There are some plants, however, which are
so tender and juicy, cucumbers and melons for
instance, as to be scorched and absolutely de.
stroyed in the hot sun. When this is the case,
they must be shaded upon their removal, by
sticking a broad shingle in the ground on the
south side, or two shingles so as partly to en•
close them, meeting at an angle on the south.
It has been strongly recommended to dip the
I roots of young plants as soon as they are ta
ken from from the ground, into a mixture of
soil and water worked together to the consist
ency of soft mud. This by adhering to the
roots, prevents their becoming dry for several
hours until they are transplanted.
Care should be taken that the end of the
root is not bent when set in the ground, and
also the plant bo set as deeply as possible with.
out burying the leaves.
SIIV . Fwuig Laii, uow•adays i when they. are
preparing for a walk, ought lot to keep their
lovers waiting so long as they used to do, for
now they have o)ly
.t 9 pin their bonnets jugf