Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, July 12, 1854, Image 1

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    BY WM. BREWSTER.
TERMS:
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Sabscribers living in distant connties,or in other
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ca. The above terms will be rigidly adhered
o in all cases.
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JOB WORK:
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IPC3iF.AMAI.
By Request.
Lines on the Death of William McKim.
Honored, beloved, by all that knew thee,
blesed
Friend of my early youth hut thou gone
. . . ..,
down,
llallowing each spot thy gentle foot-steps press
ed;
Wendt heaven's smile, adversity's dark frown,
'Still struggling, hero-like, for thy eternal crown?
The fadeless My of the vales of heaven,
Blends on thy temples with the deeper green
'Of laurels gathered on those hills where even,
With its dull mists and shadows, noier bath
been.
Those everlasting hills, where vernal sheen,
Ito winter ever blights; no storm-clouds dim;
Where, amid endless joys, with brow serene,
The ever•blessed eltaunt the praise of him
Who sits Ed/Ironed upon the winged-cheru
bi tn.
- Weirdo& that termini become thy brow,
Emblem of toils now o'er, of triumphs won,
Fair recompense of deeds that, long ere now,
Have built for thee, in many a breast, a
throne,
That eon earth's proudest king might joy to
own.
You heaven-blest vale I thy virtues will re
call,
When all who loved thy voice, like thee arc
gOllO,
Thy mount! each pillar shall in ruin fall,
Ere cease its grateful sons to keep thy festival.
Weep for thee! tears of gratitude may gush,
Mingled with blessings on thy hallowed name.
Thy name! e'en at its sound, what menirios
rush
Upon my soul, of good deeds that fame
Might well have chronicled in gold; the same.
Undying love for God and man were thine.
That martyrs prizes, and hence thy 'mount'
becomes,
'Mid clouds, and toils, and tears, a spot di
vine.
Fair virtue's honored home—meek wisdom's
fav'rito shrine.
THE DEAD SOLDIER.
Wreck of a Warrior passed away I
,
The form without a unmet .
Which thought and felt hut yesterday,
And drea r Med of future faine I
Stripped of thy garments—who shall guess
Thy rank, thy lineage and race?
If haughty chieftain holding sway,
Or lowlier, destined to obey!
'The light of that fixed eye is set,
Aden is moveless now—
But passions traces linger yet,
And lower upon that brow.
Expression has not yet waned weak;
The lips seem even now to speak,—
And clenched that cold and lifeless hand,
As if it grasped the battle-brand
Though from that head, late towering high,
The waving plume is torn—
And low in dust that form cloth lie
Dishonored and forlorn I
Yet Death's dark shadow cannot bids
The graven characters of pride
That on thy lip and brow reveal
The ?minus of the Spirit's seal.
Lives there a Mother, to deplore
The Son she ne'er shall see ?
Or maiden on some distant shore,
To break her heart for thee?
Perchance to roam a maniac there
With wild-flower wreaths to deck her hair,
And through the lonely night to wait
"Phy foot-step at the lonely gate.
Long shall she linger there, in vain—
Tho evening tire shall trim,
And gazing on the darkening main,
Shell ellen call on him
Who hears her not, and cannot hear,
deaf forever is the car
That once, in listening rapture hung
Upon the music of her tongue!
Long may she dream—to wake is woe—
Neer may remembrance tell
Its tale, to bid her sorrows flow
Andlope to sigh farewell;
The heart, bereaving of its stay,
Quenching the beam that cheers her way
Along the waste of life, till she
Shall lie her down and sleep, like thee.
tor A piece of wood burns because it has
the matter for burning within it. A man comes
to be famous, because ho has the matter for
fame within him. To seek for, or hunt after
fame, is a vain endeavour. By clever man.
agement, and various artificial means, a man
may indeed succeed in creating for himself a
sort of name. But if he lacks real inward value,
all his management comes to naught, and will
:Tamely outlive the day.
V 3, A man lowwu hyth, mu) puny 6ckcir,
t
74, M
tt[
.•
711,
_ _ _
" 1 BEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PHOWEINU LIGHT TO GUIDE US, DUT TILE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIO PARTY OF TILE UNITED STATES."-[WEBSTER
2(BEIVA@IIRM111411.
Pacts and Principles in the Chemistry of
Agriculture.
BY J. 8. HOUGHTON, M. D.
Many persons who undertake to learn any
science think that they must try and remember
a whole book, with all its words, its illustra
tions, its tables, its discussions, and oven its
preface and index, and in despair of doing this,
give up the task of learning any thing as hope
less. Now the true way of reading with profit
is to pay no special heed to the words of the
author at all, unless they are, for a single line
or sentence, particularly striking or beautiful,
but to try and catch the chief thought if it has
merit, and make that thought your own. There
is a vast deal of difference between having an
intelligent knowledge of a book as you read it,
and making the substance of the book your
own, so that you can give it off from your own
mind either in conversation or writing.
The real matter of a book on agricultural
chemistry, for instance, may be set down in a
few notes, on half a sheet of paper, perhaps,
and yet thirauthor will spread it out, in words,
through two or three hundred pages. New if
you mark the important parts with a pencil as
you read, and then draw off these facts as prin.
eiples, on a bit of paper, the act of reflective at
(cation, which this process requires, will ena
ble you to transfer the gist or the book to your
own mind, as well as the paper. Great facts
and principles require elucidation it is true,
but I have often thought that they were com
paratively lost to the general reader, when em
bodied in long pages of close type, instead of
lacing seperated and put distinctly before the
eye in bald, brief declarations. A good illus
tration of the difference between a book ns
written and its real matter, may be seen by
looking at Prof. Norton's Prize Essay on Ag
riculture, published by the New York State So
ciety. In that essay Prof. Norton first writes
out the matter in words, and then gives a re
view of its contents, not in an index above, but
in a brief abstract of notes, stating in half a
dozen pages or thereabouts, the substance of
more than a hundred probably. Young read
ers should make such abstracts of all scientific
works for themselves.
$1 25
1 50
In this article, I propose to give you a few
facts and principles in agricultural chemistry,
without ninny words about them, to show how
they look thus separated.
Organic Elements of Vegetable Matter.—Ox
ygen, Hydrogen, Nitrogen and Carbon.
inorganic Elements consist chiefly of four
acids and four alkalies. The four acids are
silicie acid, phosphoric acid, sulphuric acid and
muriatic acid. The four alkalies are potash,
soda, limo and magnesia.
It is useless to give a plant abundance of
any one of its constituents—lime for instance
—unless you are sure at the same time that
the other ingredients aro present also.
Ammonia is the great stimulant of vegetable
growth, without which all other nutriment may
remain inert and dead. It is a compound of
nitrogen and hydrogen gases.
Nitrogen is the nutritious, or flesh making
principle of vegetables. It is found in great
abundance in some grains (as wheat) and such
grains dre always exhausting to the soil. Car
bon, in the shape of gum, starch, sugar, butter,
oil, fat, syrup, &e., never enters into the com
position of flesh to nny great extent, and is
chiefly used to admit breathing, and to sustain
the heat of the body by being consumed in the
lungs. It is also deposited in the body as fat.
In the germination of seeds a small portion
of vinegar, or acetic acid, is found. Alkalies,
as potash and soda, combine with and neutral
ize this acid, and thus assist germination.—
Hence one important use of wood ashes, con
taining potash, in the hill with potatoes.
Organic matter as muck, leaves, tan, saw
dust, &e., can be of little use until it has under
gone decomposition, so as to put its salts and
gases in a condition to be taken up by plants.
Hence the reason why some persons find so lit
tle benefit from the use of raw muck, half
rotted tan, &c.
Peaty soils are always acid. Seeds will not
germinate well in such a soil without the mid
of potash, soda and limo to neutralize the acid
and perfect the decomposition of the organic
matter.
Lime, in a caustic state, possesses the power
of setting free, or bringing into action the pot.
ash which a new soil may contain, and hence
may serve as good a purpose as lime and ash.
es.
Anthracite coal ashes are of little value in
agriculture except to open a heavy clay soil.—
The chief ingredients of any valuo are charcoal
and sulphate of lime or gypsum.
Charcoal decays very slowly under ordinary
circumstances. It will last fifty or a hundred
years in a dry loam, perhaps longer. In a moist
soil, rich in muck, it decays more rapidly, and
furnishes carbonic acid to plants or carbon.—
It is chiefly valuable, however, as an absorbent
of ammonia, and for giving a dark color to
light sandy soils. It also retains moisture.
Nitrates, as nitrate of potash (saltpetre) pro
duce straw in grain; sulphates, as sulphate of
soda and sulphate of lime, promote the growth
of grain, beans, peas, &e.
It is not known how far soda is able to take
the place of potash in the soil, or whether it is
indifferent which of the two alkalies is supplied
to plants. It is better to furnish both soda
and potash when absent from the soil.
Phosphate of limo is a combination of limo
with phosphoric acid. It is the chief constitu
ent of the earth of bones. It exists in the seed
many plants, in all the varieties of grain which
are cultivated for food, and in the ashes of
most common plants. It exists also largely in
milk. It is almost always deficient in tho soil.
A sandy soil admits the heat of the sun morn
rapidly, and retains it longer than any other
soil; but it is not so reteutivo of moisture. The
application of charcoal and salt increases the
moisture of sandy soil and se doe.; decl plow•
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 12, 1854.
The roots of plants require a supply Of oxy
gen in order that they may be tnaintnined in a
healthy condition. The atmosphere and water
furnish a supply of oxygen, but ouch possibly
can only be obtained where the soil is suffi
ciently open to permit the free circulation of
air and water among its pores, and to carry
off excess of water, or water robbed of its fer
tilizing properties. Plow deep and drain. Sul
phate of lime (plaster of Paris) require much
heat and moisture to render it useful on land.
In dry seasons sulphate of soda (Glauber salts)
will prove more beneficial. Bones dissolved
in sulphuric acid and common lime aro gener
ally more valuable than gypsum.
Quick lime expels ammonia front decompo
sed or fermenting manures. Lime should nev
er be used in the manure heap, unless covered
with a largo quantity of well pulverized muck.
Lime has little or no effect upon soils in
which loam or vegetable matter is deficient.
It is important to bear in mind that the ap
plication of lime, soda, potash, or bones, forms
a primitive addition of mineral or inorganic
matter to the soil, while by plowing in green
crops we return to the land only the inorganic
salts which the plants have taken from it du
ring their growth—the rest is organic matter.
Plants require all their constituents present
in the soil, in small quantities at least to tar
nish a full crop. Bence the principle that the
more various the fertilizing materiels added to
the compost heap the better, if a good supply
of dry muck be supplied to absorb the ammo
nia produced by decomposition.
Potatoes and tomatoes flourish best in soils
not very riots in nitrogen. Pig manure and
night soil aro not useful for these crops unless
very minutely divided by loans. The chief in
gredients of potatoes are carbon, in the shape
of starch in the organic portion, and potash in
the organic constituents. Hence fresh muck
and ashes are the best fertilizers.
Turnips require less organic matter (loam
or mould) than many other crops. Their chief
constituents are phosphate of limo and potash.
Peat meadows require sand to render them
fertile as imperatively as sandy soils require
muck. •
And so I might go on through fifty, or any
indefinite number of columns, giving facts and
principles observed in reading, which aro wor
thy of being specially noted and remembered.
I have taken these few passages at random
from some works lying neer me at this mo
ment, partly copied and partly made up from
hints which met my eye. I have done this, not
so much on account of the great value of the
facts set forth, as for the purpose of showing
the student in these matters how much clearer
a fact looks, and how much more easily it may
be studied and remembered by separating it
from the substance of a volume as above.
Now if the reader of this article had just read
the works from which the quotations are made
up, and then had exercised his eye and mind
and hand in the art of selecting and writing
down the passages, we can readily suppose that
he would he more likely to remember them,
than if he had only glanced his eye over them
in the comparatively passive style of reading.
I trust that the valuable suggestions here given
will not be lost upon young farmers who are
ambitious ofacquiring knowledge.—Farm .lour•
nal.
imoctiEllhAßßAM.
Curiosities of the Ivory Trade.
Every one knows that this substance is de
rived from the tusks of the elephant; but the
difficulties attendant upon obtaining it, and the
labor and ingenuity requisite in its manufac.
ture, or its importance as an article of use and
commerce, are perhaps less generally under
stood. From its essential properties, its indes
tructibility and beautiful appearance, it would
be difficult to foul a substitute for it; nothing
being yet suggested for some of the purposes
for which ivory is used. The most important
of these is the manufacture of piano keys,
which requires the whitest ad most select; as
also the snaking of balls for billiards and other
games in which they are required. Next it is
used by turners :s making numberless useful
and ornamental objects; by comb-makers, who
consume large quantities; by philosophical in.
strument makers, umbrella makers, be,, and
by artists, for whom it presents the choicest
tablets upon which miniatures can be painted.
Surgical instrument 'sinkers employ it for han
dles to the instruments with which they de
prive us of our grinders, and rings upon which
infantile humanity ease the pangs theirs create
in making their progress through the gums.—
The best quality is indicated by the size of the
tusk, and characterized by its hardness, density,
purity of color, and translucence, the latter
being perceptible by testing a thinly sawed
tablet, and holding it between the eye and a
strong light. It is obtained front other animals
besides the elephant. The sea-horse yields a
pair of teeth highly esteemed where extreme
hardness is required; the outside of them being
covered by an enamel so exceedingly flinty as
to strike fire as readily as steel, when stricken
against a flint. Before being worked, however,
this external surface must be removed by im
mersion in strong acid, after which it yields to
the tool edge, although even then it is difficult
to work. Before the invention of mineral teeth,
the toothless were indebted to this animal for
the means of mastication; and, had not cherni.
cal science revealed the superiority of porcelain,
it would probably have been the favorite mate
rial. We were shown, by an importer of the
article, a lot of sea-horse tusks, measuring
nearly two and a half feet in length, consisting
of ivory of the finest description, and sustaiaing
a bettor polish than that of the elephant, tho'gh
it is not so highly esteemed, in consequence of
its tendency to become tarnished, Some other
sea animals yield ivory, among which are the
walrus, narwhal, Sc. The tusk dun elephant
is solid only about halt its length, the netnain•
der being similar to the horn of a cow,—hollow
and comparatively thin. We saw at Mr. I'llyfe'a
1,111, in Murray out ,ix
inches in diameter,having imbedded in its cen•
tre a bullet, the place of its entrance being en
tirely overgrown, presenting the appearance of
having been inserted by the nicest art. The
tuslui weigh from one to one hundred and
eighty pounds each, according to the size of the
animals from which they are taken, about two
thirds of which is available for manufacturing
purposes.
Nine-tenths of all the ivory brought directly
to the United States comes from Zanzibar, in
Africa, to the port of Salem; and this is all
large—a lot of twenty thousand pounds which
we saw averaging eighty pounds to the tusk.—
It has been conjectured that eventually the
supply would be stopped, on account of the
extinction of the animal; but this, we are in
formed by those conversant with the subject, is
not probable, large quantities being brought
from the unexplored interior of Africa by the
natives, and sold to traders on the coast, of
which a part is obtained from animals who
have died naturally; the elephant being too
largo game to be seriously affected by the won
pons of savages. The dealer can readily dis
corn by the appearance of the tysth whether it
is taken from a freshly slain animal or not.—
Some of them, broken and mutilated, give ev-
Wenn of deadly encounters their proprietors
have had in their native jungles, while others
are gnawed by African rats probably, for the
teeth marks aro largo and deep incisions. The
English traders, owing to their superior facili
ties, have the monopoly of the market in India
and iu Africa, and the choicest articles can on
ly be obtained from them. In price it varies
from seventy-five cents to one dollar and seven
tyfive cents per pound, nett, which are the ex.
tremes for corresponding qualities. Within
five years past, owing to its extended appropri
ation to purposes of art and luxury, it has in
creased twenty per cont. in cost, and great
economy is requisite to work up the scraps and
clippings to advantage, as its curved form will
not admit of straightening, without destroying
the texture, which would be fatal to its useful
ness and beauty. Nothing however is permit.
ted to go to waste. The refuse is carefully
calcined, and, when ground upon a marble
slab, yields a jet black velvety pigment, used
by artists to paint Uncle Tom's broad cloth
coats, and other matters requiring a particular
ly jet hue. Next to the Chinese the Germans
excel in ivory carving and ornamental work,
most of the beautifully embellished umbrella
and cane knobs being made by them. These,
according to the amount of work lavished upon
them, range in price from three to ten dollars
each. The most beautiful piece of art we ever
saw was a marine landscape in allo relives up
on the lid of a small ivory box, and the con
noisseur who possessed it valued it ht five hun
dred dollars, but would not dispose of it at any
price.
The curiously carved ivory balls which aro
brought from China, each containing several
balls within them, and apparently entire, puz
zling the senses to conjecture how they could
possibly be made, are not really entire; hut are
joined so accurately us to be imperceptible
even under the glass of a microscope. Subjec
ted for a time, however, to the action of boiling
water, they separate, and the wonderful iugonu.
ity of the Chinaman is revealed.
Ivory is dyed of various colors by contact
with chemicals, though no art has yet succeed
ed in imparting a color deeper than the surface,
and thus will eventually wear off. The quan
tity imported into England last year, foots up
about 6,000 tons, nod into the port of Salem
about 250,000 lbs.
In the business of the Ivory dealer may also
be included the manufactures of boxwood, lig
num vino, and other hard woods, which are to
a greater or less degree substituted for the for
mer. The nearest resemblance that any article
bears to ivory, is found in the Ivory Nut, a ve
getable production of South America. These
arc much like a horse chesnut in appearance,
but about twice their size, and when turned
into articles of fancy or ornament, are exceed
ingly clear, and of an alabaster appearance.—
They do not wear, however; are brittle, and
soon become discolored and opaque. They may
be seen in the form of infant's rings, needle
boxes, &c., in any of the fancy stores.—Journal
of Commerce.
Clergymen's Saleries.
An attempt to get at the salaries of the cler
gy was started lately in Boston. Queries were
put by letters and some fifteen hundred answers
have been received from gentlemen of the va
rious denominations in New England and New
York. A writer from New Hampshire says:
"We know ten young men of rare promise,
who have not entered the ministry for fear of
starvation, and we know eight who have left it
for want of adequate support." A writer from
Vermont estimates the average salaries of min
isters in the whole State at from $450 to $560
In' a particular county it is $350. In Now
Hampshire the average is placed at $530; and
in Maine salaries range Item $3OO to $BOO gen
erally. Salaries in Rhode Island are as much
as in New Hampshire; and Connecticut may
be ranked with Maine. The average given by
eighteen Congregational Churches of Berkshire,
in Massachusetts, is $560. Twenty Baptist
ministers in the same get hut $372 each. In
Franklin County, Mass., seven pastors receive
from $6OO to $700; seven receive over $4OO
and less than $600; and over twenty $lOO and
loss. In Norfolk county, Massachusetts, it is
thought the average salary is not $6OO. Of
more than ono hundred ; ministers in Suffolk
county, it is thought the average pay is not
more than $1,200. In 1850 the income of law.
yers in this county was $2:1,000,000; that of
physicians $20,000,000; and that of clergy but
$3,000,000.
M.. An elderly lady writes to A friend :—"A
widower with tun children has proposed and I
Lave accepted. Thi3 is about the number I
should' have been entitled to—if I hat been
married at the proper thin, in,te,ll ,t
cheated into a tt.Juentity,"
Gloves and Cigars,
"I must really lutes a new pair of gloves
James,"said Mrs. Morris to her husband, as
they sat together after tea.
Mr. Morris had been reading the evening
paper, but ho laid it down and looked crossly
up. "Really," ho said, ."you seem to me to
waste more money on gloves than any woman
I ever knew. It was only last week I gave
you money to buy a new pair."
The wife colored, and was about to answer
tartly; for she felt that her husband had no
cause for his crossness; but remembering that
a "soft answer turneth away wrath," she said,
"surely you have forgotten, James. It was
more than a month since I bought my last pair
of gloves, and I have been out a great deal, as
you know, in that time."
"Humph I" said Mr. Morris, taking up the
paper again.
For several minutes there was silence. Tho
the wife continued her sewing, and the husband
read sulkily on; at last, as if sensible that he
had been unnecessarily harsh, he ventured a
remark by way of indirect apology.
"Business is very dull, Jane,' he said, "and
some times I know not where to look for mon
ey. I can scarcely meet my expenses."
The wife looked up with tears in her eyes.
"I am sure, James," that I try to be as eco
nomical as possible. I went without a new silk
dress this winter, because the one I got last
spring would answer, I thought, by baring a
now body made to it. My old bonnet, too, was
retrimmed. And as to the gloves, you know
you aro very particular about my having gloves
always nice, and scold me if I appear iu the
streets with a shabby pair on."
Mr. Morris knew all this to be true, and felt
still more ashamed of his conduct; however,
like most men, he was too proud to confess his
error, except indirectly. Ile took out his pock
, of book, and said, "how much will satisfy you
for a year, not for gloves only, but for all the
other etceteras? I will make you an allow
ance, and then you need not ask me for money
whenever you want a pair of gloves or a new
handkerchief."
The wife's eyes glistened with delight. She
thought for a moment, and then said: "I will
undertake on ten pounds, to find myself in all
these things."
Mr. Morris dropped the newspaper as if red
hot, and stared at his wife. "I believe," he
said, "you women think that we men aro made
of money. I don't spend ten pounds in gloves
and handkerchiefs in half a dozen years."
Mrs. Morris did not reply instantly, for she
was determined to keep her temper; but the
quickness with which the needle moved, showed
that she had some difficulty to be amiable. At
last she said, "but how much do you spend on
cigars ?"
This was a home-thrust, for Mr. Morris was
nn inveterate smoker; and consumed twice as
much in this needless luxury as the sum his
wife asked. lie picked up the paper and made
no reply.
"I don't wish you to give up smoking, since
you enjoy it so much," she said, "but surely ci
gars are no more necessary to a gentleman,
than are gloves and handkerchiefs to a lady;
and if you spend twenty pounds in the one, I
don't see why you should complain of my wish-
Mg ten pounds for the other."
"Pshaw I" said her husband, finally. "I don't
spend twenty pounds a year in cigars. It can't
be."
"You bring home a box every three weeks;
and each box, you say, costs about twenty-four
shillings, which, at the end of the year, amounts
to more than twenty pounds."
Mr, Morris fidgeted on his seat. His wife
saw her advantage; and, smiling to herself, pur
sued it. "If you had counted up," she said,
"as I have, every shilling you have given me
for gloves, shoes, and ribbons during a year,
you would find it amounted to ten pounds; and
if you had kept a statement of what your cigars
cost, you would see that I am correct in my es
timates as to them.
"Twenty pounds It can't be," said the hus
band, determined not to he convinced.
Let us make a bargain," replied the wife--
"Put into my hands twenty pounds to buy
cigars for you. and ten pounds to purchase
gloves, &c., for me. I promise faithfully to
keep both accounts correctly, with this stipula.
lion, that at the end of the year I am to retain
all I can save of the ten pounds, and to return
to you all that remains of the twenty pounds,"
"It is agreed. I will pay quarterly, and
commence to-night." And ho took out his
purse, and counted seven pounds tea shillings
into his wife's hand.
Aud how did the bargain turn out? Our
fair readers have, no doubt, guessed already.—
Juno continued, during the year, to supply her
husband with cigars, and at the and rendered
in her account, by which it appeared that Mr.
Morris had smoked away twenty.two pounds,
while his wife had spent only eight pounds on
gloves, handkerchiefs and shoes; the two pounds
she had saved having just enabled her to heap
her husband's cigar box full,without calling on
hiss for the deficiency till the year was up.
Mr. Morris paid the balance, with a long
face, but without a word of comment. He has
ever since given, of his own accord, the ten
pounds allowance to his wife.
- -
ear A lean named Tailor, near Winchester,
la., has a son only four years old who is a cow•
men drunkard! The Emblem says that on the
2Sth ult., "his father, who had been fishing,
gave the child a bottle of whiskey to carry, 'he
drank too much,' and was taken very sick, then
with a twitching in one arm and side, which
was soon followed by delirium tremens that last
ed for twelve hours. It was a horrible thing to
see the little fellow screaming at, and jumping
from the snakes that he thought he saw."
120)...T0 prevent a dog from getting hydropho•
bia, give him a generous dose of aryehnine.—
Quite 03 effiCaCioll3 11J cuttitv, their tails off
behie.l their car -, awl mall murk: vi ca.
Nicholas in his Own House.
Nicholas rises at en early hour, and goes
soon to the business of the day, after taking a
short walk. The most scrupulous order reigns
in his study; the walls are adorned with pic
tures of regimental costumes. 'rho furniture
is elegant, but not over rich, while there is
nowhere to be seen a trace of useless orna
ments. The dinner meal usually takes but lit
tle time, for it is served quickly, while the
dishes aro comparatively few. The Czar cats
heartily, but is very moderate in his drink.—
He neither smokes nor takes snuff. In the
evening lie has two or three cups of very strong
tea, and spends the interval between that and
bed time at some game. Despite his regulari
ty of life, which is necessarily much interrupted
by receptions, travels, &e., the Czar is no slave
to habit. Accordingly, to those who have had
the best opportunity of judging, his relation to
the empress is simple, yet noble—an expres
sion that undoubtedly admits of varied inter
pretation. Women are not without influence
at his court. In 1846, a young lieutenant of
the guard danced a liblka with Lady Dashkoff,
so much to her entire satisfaction, that he was
soon after installed as one of the aid de-camps
to the Czar. His friends composed a new
polka, which they dedicated to him under the
ironical title of the "Promotion Polka."
Much has never been said of the exhibition
of parental feeling on the part of Nicholas—at
least he did not display it in a lively degree
while his children yet remained young. The
Grand Duchess Olga, the late Princess Alex
andra, and the Grand Duke Constantine, were
frequently indicated as his pets, though judging
outwardly since they have been grown up, a
large amount of form and ceremony has ac
companied their intercourse. Custine, in his
work, "Russia in 1839," says i—" Nicholas for
gets his majesty only in domestic life, where
lie is reminded that man has his happiness in
dependent of his state duties. There is, how
ever, a degree of coquetry in the domestic life
of the Winter Palace. Persons well acquainted
with the imperial family assert, that though
Nicholas may love his children dearly, yet it
cannot be denied that he assumes towards his
sons a serious and cold demeanor, while the
behaviour to his daughters is chivalrous in the
extreme; but this is a conduct which ho gener
ally adopts towards ladies. The weak and
sickly empress he treats with compassionate
affection; we can find no better word. When
from indisposition she is confined to her apart
ment, ho frequently visits her there; and the
'newspapers, which are always loud in praise of
his undiminished affection, mentioned that at
the time of the imperial stay at Naples, in
1817, he used to carry her in his arms up the
staircase to her chamber. During the burning
of the Winter Palace in 1836, (says Gratsch,)
Count Orloff reported to the Emperor that the
fire was about reaching to the imperial private
cabinet or study, and asked him what he desi
red to be saved in it, as no time was to be lost?
"Only my portfolio," was the reply, "it contains
the letters of the empress which she sent to me
during our engagement."—Miclielson'sllisfory.
Little Children.
A popular writer speaks of little children a s
the poetry of the world—the fresh flowers of
our hearths and homes—little conjurors„ With
"natural magic," evoking by their spells what
delights and enriches all ranks, and equalises
the different classes of society. Often as they
bring with theta anxieties and cares, and live
to occasion sorrow and grief, we should get on
very badly without them. Only think—if there
was never anything anywhere to be seen but
great grown-up men and women! How we
should long for the sight of a little child I A
child softens and purifies the heart, warming
and melting it by its gentle presence; it enrich
es the soul by new feelings, and awakens with
in it what is favorable to virtue. It is a beam
of light, a fountain of love, a teacher whose les
sons few can resist. Infants recall us from
much that engenders and encourages selfish
ness, that freezes the affections, roughens the
manners, and indurates the heart. They bright
en the home, deepen love, invigorate exertion,
infuse courage, and vivify and sustain the char
hies of life.
Aunt Lizzie's Courtship,
you see, when my man came a court•
in' me, I h e l'idn't the least thonght what he was
after. Jobie came to our house ono night,
and rapped at the door, and I said "come in.
Ile opened the door, and there was Jubie. I
said, come in and take a cheer.' 'No, said ho,
Lizzie, I've come of arrant, and I allus du my
arrants fust.' 'But you'd better come in and
take a cheer, Mr. W."No, I can't till I have
done my arrant; the fact is, Lizzie, I've comeon
this ere courtiu' business. My wife's been dead
this three weeks, and every thing's goin' to rack
and ruin right along. Now Lizzie, if you're a
mind to have me, and take care of my house,
and my children, and sty things, tell me, and
come in and take a cheer; if not, I'll get
some one else to."
I was skccrcd. I said, if you come on
this condi& business, come in. I must think
out a little."
"No I can't till I know. That my arrant
Can't sit down till my arrant's donc."
"I should like to think out day or tu."
"No you needn't, Lizzie."
"Well, Johic, if I must, I must—so here's to
ye then."
"So Mr. W. came in, then he went after the
square, (justice of the peace,) and he married
us right off. I went home 'long with Jobie
that very night."
"Tell ye what it is, these long routings don't
amount to anything. Just us well do it up in
a hurry."
tar A fain' 10 , 11ter took her darling nn her
knee, and a loaf of bread, inteuding to make
bread and butt, for it, to pr,•pla bay Iti:rea•
brut;; but by IL .itianfic fatality, ;she buttered
nbc cbild'3 fam, and eat it: hi
di.. , r er 1I- •ui.,al,,
ii& or
a
3~
.
,
VOL. 19. NO. 28.
The Irish Girl's Stratagem
Au amusing incident of Hibernian simplici
ty, is afforded in the following little story, told
us by a friend, in whose words we give it:
Molly, our housemaid is a model one, who
handles the broomstick like a sceptre, and who
has an abhorrence for dirt and a sympathy
soapsuds, that•amomrts to a passion. She is a
bustling, rospelieeked, bright.eyed, blundering
Hibernian, who hovers about out book-shelves,
makes war upon our love papers, in the shape
of undusted and unrighted corners.
One day, sbe entered our library, in n con
fused and uncertain manner, quite different
from the usual bustling way. She stood at the
door, with a letter between her thumb and fin
ger, which she held at arm's length, as if she
had a gunpowder plot in her grasp. In 1111SWIsr
to oar inquiries as to her business, she replied:
"An' may it place yer honor, I'm &poor girl,
an' haiu't much larMn' au' ye see, phase yet.
honor, Paddy O'Reilly, an' the better than him
dosen't brathe in old Ireland, has been writhe
inn a letther—a love letther, place yer honor:
au'—au'—"
We guessed at the embarrassment, and of
fered to relieve it by reading it to her. Still
she hesitated, while she twisted a bit of raw
cotton in her fingers.
"Sure," she resumed, "an' thnt's just what I
want, but it isn't a gentleman like yerself that
would be liken' to know of the surds between
us, an' so (here she twisted the cotton quite
nervously) if it'll only plase yer honor while
yer rading it, ye'll just put this hit of cotton in
yer cars, an' stop hearin, an' thin the secrets
will be unbeknown to ye!"
We hadn't the heart to refuse her; and with
the gravest face possible, complied with the
request, but often since we have laughed hear
tily as we related the incident.—N. Y. Journal.
Patent Leather Boots.
While standing in the office of ono of our
first class hotels the other any, we noticed a
gentleman who came in with his baggage, en
ter his name on the book and secure a room.--
As soon as he had written his name, the clerk
looked at it with astonishment. He called all
the other clerks to look, and then he called one
of the proprietors, who, on seeing it, appeared
amazed.
We thought from tho fuss that was being
made over the name, that the man must ho
some celebrated person. The idea struck ua
that it might be Prince Albert, or some of
England's noblemen; but as his features were
truly American, we concluded it must be some
great man, whom we did not know, belonging
to our own country. While thus contemplating
the man and his position, the head clerk lean
ed forward, and called—Mr. Johnson, one mo
ment if you please.
The gentleman stopped up to the desk.
. -
Will you, continued the clerk, Please explain
ono thing? We have ell tried to decipher it,
but cannot make it ont.
What is it? asked the gentleman, with a qui
et smile playing on his face.
Why, sir, at the end of your name, on tho
book, you have placed three letters, P. L. 8.,
and we are anxious to know the meaning of
them, having never before mct them in that
position.
"P. L. 8.," said the gentleman, simply means
'Went Leather Boots. The last time I was,
here I wore none other, hut I was charged in
my bill at leaving, two dollars for blacking.
boots, and as I had no time to dispute at leav
ing, I concluded this time to make you under
stand that I wore such boots as needed uo
blacking.
The Wild Turkey.
We take the following from a work entitled
"The Hive of the Ilce•liuutee:"
"I rather think," said a turkey hunter, "if
you want to find a thing very cunning, you
uced not go to the foxi or such varmints, but
take a gobbler. I once hunted regular after
the same ono for three years, and never saw
him twice.
"I knew the critter's 'yelp' ns well as I knew
Music's, my old deer dog; and his track was as
plain to me as the trail of a log hauled through
a dusty road.
"1 hunted the gobbler always in the samo
range, and about the same 'scratehings,' and
got so at last that when I 'called,' he would run
from tee, taking the opposite direction to my
footsteps.
"Now, the old rascal kept a great deal on a
ridge, at the end of which, where it lost itself
in a swamp, was a hollow cypress troo. Deter
mined to out-wit him, I put on my shoes heels
foremost, walked leisurely down the ridp,o, and
got into the hollow tree, and gave a 'call,' and
boys," said the speaker, exultingly, "it would
have done you good to see that turkey coming
towards me on a trot, looking at my trucks,
and thinking I had gone the other way."
An Old Theory,
'Being in Maine, a while ago,' writes R., of
• Bridgeport, Conn., 'I fell in with a singular
customer. lie is a lawyer of some eminence,
and a confirmed bachelor: lie showed me his
boots (which he wears without stockings,) with
holes cut through them just above the soles, so
as to let the snow and water conic freely about,
his feet, declaring that he had not a had cold
for fifteen years by reason of this practice. •
But the beat thing about him was his religion,
as Ito called it, which I regarded as very peen
liar. lie believed, ho said, that the Earth is a
huge animal, breathing every six hours, which
caused the ebb and Now of the tides; that tho
trees, shrubbery, are hairs, and all animals
including men, were merely vermin/ Ho also
believes in a kind of metempsyehosig, and of
firms that he can distinctly remember of har.
i,,g lived on the earth in nine different forms.
In 11w last of these, prior to the present, he
was in the limn ofu black sheep, uiii.h
a In 11, and the dogs getting Mita the flock,
which ho was leading member, be lost the MI,
nod bet found it virwe wa., a men, en. 1 1,--
...t• • Tt,
la