Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, November 01, 1854, Image 1

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gnictt Voctril.
Beyond the River.
Time is a river deep and wide;
And while along its banks we stray,
We see our loved one's o'er its tide ;
Sail from our sight away, away.
Where are they spad, they who return
No more to glad our longing eyes?
They passed from life's contracted bourne,
' To land unseen, unknown, that lie(
Beyond the river.
'Tie hid from view; but we may guess
Slow beautiful that realm must be;
For gleamings of its loveliness,
In visions granted, oft we ceo.
The very clouds that o'er it throw
Their veil, unrais'd for mortal sight,
With gold and purple tintinga glow,
Reflected from the glorious light
Beyoud the river.
And gentle airs, so sweet, so calm,
Steal sometimes front that viewless sphere ;
The mourner feels their breath of balm,
And soothed sorrow dries the tear.
And sometimes a lisening ear may gain -
Entrancing sound that hither floats,
The oche of a distant strain
Of harps' and voices' blended notes,
Beyond the river.
Thereat.: our lov'd owes in their rest ;
They've cross'd Time's river; now no more
They heed the bubbles on its breast,
Nor feel the storms that sweep its shore.
But there pure love can live, can last ;
They look fur us their home to share;
When we in turn away have pass'd,
What joyful greetings wait us there,
Beyond the river.
o t tliscatings.
Mrs. Partington in St. Louis,
We met here on the Levee. We recogni
red her immediately, by her large bonnet and
blue umbrella, her iron spectacles and beam.
ing smile. We rained our hand and took oft'
our hat, for we felt that we were in queenly
presence. 'Dear Mrs. Partington, said we,
'how do you do?'
'Why' Mister Editor,' cried she, while real
delight flashed across her face, 'yew don't tell
me—and so yew knew me, did ye 7 Yew'ro
are jest the very man I wanted to see, for I've
got a letter of intercession to you, from Mister
Sillbear, who is one of the headsmen in the
Boston Post 011ie°, and he has gone and writ
.a dewdecimal volum all about me and my Ike.
He's a very affluent writer, and adorns his pro
ductions with carparisons nod troops, and cym
.bals and syllyogistus, and all sorts of mathe
matical floras, nod besides he composes so
.many fugitive pieces,beeause,ye know, fugitives
is very much liked in Boston, and'—
"Dear madam,' said we, getting impatient,
'please to show us the letter.'
'Oh yes,' said she, 'here it is—it is a beauti
ful sample of a placatory correspondence,'
We read the letter, whirls was genial ann.
impressive, commending to our care the good
old lady. _ _
'Mrs. Partington,' said we, 'we shall be hap
py to show you any attention iu our power
while you are in St. Louis.'
'Well now,' said she, 'l'm much obleeged to
you ; I thank you very kindly, for when I come
to a strange and unsophisticated place I Al
ways like to have some ono to shampoon all
Wo expressed ourselves delighted to chopor•
on herali over, and having taken her band.
box, we offered our arm with the deference
which we would show to a duchess. \Yo told
her so.
'I urn not a dutchess,' said ; 'all my kin
folks and lily posterity for many generations
back has boon real Yankees; never liked the
Dutch since the oven that they made for me
burnt all my cookies on the top.'
We asked her if she would_ go to the Plan
ters' House :
.res,' said she 'it it's a good taTera. lam
not ranch of an epicalce, but still I ani partial
to good vittles. I make splendid doughnuts,
and pies; and other perfections, myself.'
We got into a back. We conversed about
the weather and crops.
'Yes, said she, thoughtfully and with a
mournful accent, 'the crops—of Ike's chickens
will be very small—there will be nothing to
till them, the corn has gilled.'
• We acknowledged' the last named article.
We drew up at the Planters.' A fine build
ing,' said she: 'but my taste in horticulture fa
vo' the Gothical, rather than the Ironical
style. Upsides, they ought to have a portfolio
or some liziarro of some sort to keep off the
the combusticle beams of the sun. It is a fra
grant violation of belles lettrcs to be without
We acknowledged the justness of her remarks,
but hoped she would nut be hypocritical.
'Mu hypercritical I and with that she took
snuff and looked daggers at usi but in a mo
ment the cloud passed oft her face, and the
glorious light of glad kindness beamed forth
again. 'You didn't menu that, Mr. Editor, I
know you didn't. It was a hasty and engirded
expression of your local pride.'
She wished to pay the driver a sixpence, tho
Boston omnibus fee, but we magnanimously
told her we would foot the bill. As she drew
out her purse, knit by her own needles, wo saw
that it. was well filled with silver. Wo asked
if she was not afraid to carry such a weight of
specie? She might be rubbed.
$1 25
1 50
am, really,' replied Mrs. Partington, 'and
I should like to put it in some real nice sha
ving bunk, if you've got any in this town.
We thought there were a good many, but we
did not mention the fact aloud. We merely
told her there was a savings bank under one
corner of the hotel, where it would be safe, and
the interest would be compounded quarterly.
'Yes,' said she, thoughtfully, they do con
found thingS at some bunks.'
Wo went in, Mrs. Partington and I, to the
parlor. She spoke of the lust election
'Oh,' said she, hear you had an orful time.
Such riotous living 1 But then I believe in
elections--our minister used to tell us we must
believe iu it, and he was a good wan, I hope
—and preached true geology.'
We mentioned the next Congressman,
must see him,' she cried, 'tor I am told he will
give mo one of those great bureaux at Wash.
iugton, and it will be sire to keep the linen in
which my dear gran' motber spun with her
own hands. And do tell me Mr. Editor, is
Corporal Benton really such a pedagogue ?'
We assured her that we were on hand at
polities, but asked her if she intended to see
the lions of st: Louis.
'Oh, sartain, if you've got any here, and I
should admire to see a grizzled bear and a
hypothenuse too, if they are in the show.'
We mentioned the public works and im
'Yes, I should like to see the Bellfounting
Seminary. with its butiful irsophagusses and
hecatombs. It always makes me feel sad and
aromatic to go to a graveyard, for I think of
my poor old mother and father that's decreas
ed and gime.
And a true and womanly tear stood in one
corner of the good old lady's eye, which she
wiped away with her blue and sputted cotton
'Besides, pursued Mrs. P., must look at
your acudemised roads, and your Costume
Rouse and the Medicine College. I hear that
the Congress people have appropriated some
money for the first bolding. lam very sorry
to hear that they appropriated some of Uncle
Ned's money to their own use."
We came away, and left the kind lady to
take a little of what she called "Retired Na•
fore's sweet destroyer palmy sleep."
The old lady contemplates making a stay o f
several weaks in our city, during which time
she will visit the various objects of interest in
our vicinity. We have proffered our services
to show her the sights, and she has kindly ac•
cepted them.
We shall take full notes of the good old
dames's impressions and observations of St.
Louis, and lay them before our readers from time. As we took our leave of her,
she graciously shook us by the hand, and ea•
claimed, Au RESERUOIR.-St. Louis Republic.
"Well, what of that? Who wants to be a mossy
old stone, away in some damp corner of a pas•
tore, where sunshine and freshair never comes
for the cows to rub themselves against, for
snails and bugs to crawl over, and for toads to
squat under among the poisonous weeds ? It
is far better to be a smooth and polished stone,
rolling along in the brawling stream of life,
wearing off the rough corners, bringing out the
firm crystallite structure of the granite, or the
delicate veins of the agate or chalcedony. It
is this perpetual chafing, and rubbing in the
whirling current that shows what sort of a grit
a Inns is made of, and what he is good for.—
The sandstone and soapstone are ground down
to mud-4ut the firm rock is selected for the
towering fortress, and the diamond is cut and
polished for the monarch's crown.
Family Jars.
Jars of jelly, jars of join,
Jars of potted beef and ham,
Jars of early gooseberries nice,
Jan of mince meats, jars of spice,
Jars of orange marmalade,
Jars of pickles, all homemade,
Jars of cordial alder wine,
Jars of honey superfine;
Would the only jars were these,
Which occur in families!
We should choose to bear the hatred of evil
men rather than deserve their just accusations
after serving their base ends.
After the sitting of fully has made melt wise
they find it hard to concievo that others con
be as foolish as they have been.
Front the Independent Journal.
The Dead and their Dust.
The dust that flies in the air; the leaves that
fade and fall; the grass that withers; the trees
that decay and-return, are the dust of the dead.
The dust of the scholar; the dust of the poet,
whose genius was rare and noble; the dust of
the historian who gathered the record of the
past; the dust of the divine whose voice moved
the hearts of thousands ; the dust of the states
man, who counseled and guided the nation; tho
dust of the jurist, the expounder of the
laws; the dust of the patriot, who lived to
bless others; the dust of the hero, who died
for liberty ; the dust of the merchant, wino en
riched the nation'; the dust of the prOphets
and apostles, who revealed the mysteries of
heaven ; the dust of the oppressor, who thrived
on the tears and groans of others ; the dust of
the slave, whose life was sorrow and trial ; the
dust of the insolent icing and haughty queen;
the dust of the knave who lived by fraud •, the
dust of the philanthropist who sought out the
objects ofeharity; the dust of the beggar, whose
adversity drove him to alms; the dust of the
hypocrite, whose pretention and creed were his
religion ; the dust of the inebriate, whose stag.
gerings made him a jest and a criminal ; the
dust of the honest poor, whose integrity shone
in darkness; the dust of the selfish, who lived
for himself and cheated others; the dust of the
pugnacious devoid of peace, and disturbed that
of others; the dust of the defamer, who was
impure in his character, and envious of tho up
wright ; the dust of the gossip, who gathered
and lived ou scandal ; the dust of the murderer,
who laid in wait to shed innocent blood; the
dust of the their, who watched his moment to
grab the purse; tine dust of the liar, who kept
no faith; the dust of the dandy, whose nega
tives and positives danced hint on to the stage,
and danced hint off; the dust of the physician,
who cured and saved others, then died himself;
the dust of the just and of the unjust: of the
noble and ignoble; of the rich and poor; of the
white and black; the dust of all, all that flies in
the air, and lives again in the green fields.
The babies of the living arc from the dust;
remain a brief time, .d then return to their
native earth, lifeless, icy cold, inert matter.—
Still, they are a part of the material substance
of the universe, and subjected in common with
another bodies to the laws of nature. Changes
are wrought, and new forms are given, new
modes of existence, in union with other matter;
perhaps vegetable, perhaps animal, or us it may
be of both.
This law of dominion, even the dust of the
dead, in not something new, something that
never had been before; it is but the continu
ance of the laws of affinity and cohesion, by
which, at first the shapeless, lifeless earth was
brought into elegant form, fine proportions and
great beauty; and by which, coarse - food was
digested to renew the waste of bones, of mus
cles, of tissues, of nerves and of blood; and of
txertions, throwing off hourly useless and dead
particles buck to earth, preventing scorpion of
bulk, preserving vigorous health.
That we live under this dominion of natural
cause and afflict, is obvious enough, frobt the
fact, that atmospherical influences readily et=
facts us, increasing their power, in proportion
to the sudden violence of the change. Nut
even a very slight change of temperature from
heat to chill, can occur, that does not immedi
ately depress the nerves and circulation. None
experience the difference sooner than the al
dieted with disease ;,a gentle breeze passing
over them, may revive from languor, or it may
strike like the cold damps of death.
Without asking for the philosophy why, it is
a common rcutark of the people, and equally
so in all place; that the pulmonary will die
when the leaves fall, or whcu the spring returns;
they mark how accurately the change of the
body changes pith the great chain of nature,
Full and Spring.
About once in seven years, the human body
throws off its entire weight, and every particle
of its substance ; there is still the same person,
but not the same identity. If the body live
many years, it will several limes renew its bulk
from the earth, and as often give it back.
Thirty years is the estimate of time that
death depopulates the globe, and returns "dust
to dust and ashes to ashes." This is done
three times and a third in one hundred years;
thirty-three times and a •third in one thousand
years; sixty-six times and two-thirds in two
thousand years ; and one hundred times in three
thousand years.
Though daily man is returning to earth, this
estimate is the final upon him of the decree,
"dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return."
We sometimes speak disdainfully of earth,
and say some things we hate, they are Ire mean
as dirt; whet; in fact the earth is our mother,
the nourishment and strength of bodies ; the
source of what pleases and enriches us. The
stately peony, the soft and fragrant Lilly, the
pink with the variegated tints, and the blush.
ing rose, are earth; our fruits and grains and
the dainty luxuries, and tarts and sweetmeats
on the tables are earth ; the beautiful form, the
tine hues of complexion, the glossy and flow
ing dark auburn; glittering diamonds, costly
jewels, the white satins, the certilcau silks; the
pomade, the cologne, rouge, and transparent
soaps are all earth, black earth, in various trans
There is not much in our natures on com
mon origin, to inflate our pride. Much very
much to chasten and subdue it. And there,
the brevity of this sojourn, and even the date of
it is unknow n. We can laugh because mortal.
ity is dressed up in life, because the enchant
ment in our spirit dreams of no sail changes,
because life is a glee and troliek is an amuse
ment, because there is a whisper that comes
like a spell, tomorrow shall be as today;" but
yuu may without gloom, be serious, without
' covetousness be industrious, without parsimo•
ny accumulate, without haughty ambition be
emittent, without degradation he humble, and
rather ,bo glad than mourn, that "the mortal
shall put an immortality."
Not That, is a very short word. It has a
very shortmenning sometimes. If often blasts
fond anticipations; it may change the whole
tenor of a life. In matrimonial matters it
would be better that it should be oftener said
than it is, for many of that sex sometimes say
No when they menu Yl3B, and should use the
shorter word when they do not,
One Sunday evening, not many nights ago,
the Rev. Mr. Thomson performed a marriage
ceremony at the Tabernacle—both parties said
Yes at the proper time, and the, reverend gen
tleman said Amen.
want you to perform the same thing for
me said a wcll.dressed youngish man, to Mr.
"Mimi ?"
"Now—right off—to night.'!
"Can't you put it off a little? It will make
it rather late."
"No—the lady says now or never, and I am
rather anxious. Will you go?"
"Yes where is it 7"
"Close by; only a few steps west of the Park.
We are all ready and will not (Main you but a
few minutes on your way home."
Mr. T. went to the place, which was a re
spectable boardinghouse, and everything evin
ced decorum. The lady—young and pretty,
neatly dressed, and altogether a desirable part
ner for the gentleman—was presented, and, a
short prayer, as usual upon such occasions, of
fered, and then hands joined.
"You, with a full sense of the obligations
you assume, do promise here in the presence
of God, and these witnesses, that you will take
this woman, whose right hand you clasp iu
yours, to he your lawful, wedded wife, and as
such you will and cherish her forever."
—.‘l do."
"And you," miss, on your part, will you take
this man to be your lawful, weddod husband ?"
"NO !"
We have heard in times past, when showers
were fashionable, some pretty heavy claps of
thunder but none that ever rattled about the
tympanum of that bridegroom was quite so
loud as that stunning little monosylable,
"No, 1 never will I" said sho, most emphati:
eally, and walked away proudly to her seat,
leaving her almost-husband looking and pro
bably feeling just the least tab in the world
Mr. Thompson remonstrated---not to induce
her to change that No for Yes, but for trilling
with him, is a solemn duty of his calling, and
asked fur an 'explanation,
.1 meant no disrespect to you, air; or to
trifle with your duty, or the solemn obligation
you were called upon to ratify; but I had no
other way to vindicate my character. I came
to the city a poor sewing. 1 worked for• this
man. Ile made proposals of marriage to me,
but from other circumstances I doubted his
sincerity, And loft his employment and went
back to the country for a while. When I re
turned, I found the door of my former board.
ing-house closed against me ; and this lady,
whom I esteemed as a kind friend, cold and
quite indisposed to renew my acquaintance,
and I insisted upon knowing the reason. I
learned that this man had blickened my char.
acter denied his proposals of marriage, and
said I was, no matter what. I said let me
come back and I will prove my innocence.--
Will you believe what I say, if he will now
marry me.,'
"Yes; I certainly will, and so will all who
know you."
• "I renewed the acquaintance—he renewed
his proposals-•--I neepted and said, 'Yes, get
the minister at once.' He slandered 'me•--1
deceived him. I proved my words true, and
his false. It was the only way a poor, help.
less girl had to ..;7enge herself upon a Moll
who had proved himself unworthy to be her
husband. It was only, et the right time, to
say one word•---ono little word. I have said it.
I hope it will be a lesson to men, an example
to other girls, and that in many other and dif
ferent circumstances they will learn to say No."
"If I was angry for a single moment," said
Mr. Thompson, "I curried none of it over the
threshold. It was a lesson, but well applied.
I went home pondering upon the value of that
word---.No."—N. 1; Tribune.
Hard of Hoaxing.
"I have a sinall bill against you, said a per
tinacious looking collector, as lib entered the
store of one who had acquired the character of
a hard customer.
" Yes, sir, a very fine day indeed," was the
"I am not speaking of the weather, but your
bill," replied Peter in a loud key.
"It would be better if we hat a little rain."
"Confound the rain," continued the collec
tor, and raising his voice.—" Have you any
money to pay on the bill?"
"Beg your pardon, I'm hard of hearing. I
have made it a rule not to loan any funds to
strangers, and I really do not recognize your
"I'm collector for the Philadelphia Daily Ex
tinguieher, sir, and I have a bill against you,"
persisted the collector at the top of his voice,
producing the bill and thrusting it into the
face of his debtor.
" I've determined to endorse Cot no one ; you
may put the note back in your pocket•book.—
I really can't endorse it."
"Confound your endorsement—will you pay
" You'll pay it no doubt, air, but there is
always a risk about such matters, you, know, so
I taunt decline it."
"The money must be mine today."
"0 yes—ninety days, but I would not en
dorso for a week; so clenr out of my store.—
It's seldom that I'm pressed for nu endorse
ment, even by my friends; on the pert of n
stranger, sir, your conduct is inexplicable.—
Do not force me to put you out; leave the
And the bill was returned to the Extinguish
er office endorsed—"se confounded-deaf that
lie couldn't understand."--2e. 0. Picalivne.
Bathing Children in Cold Water.
But if pal Tents will use cold water on their
own persons, let me entreat them to have met ,
cy on their helpless children. Do heed their
cries and entreaties to warm it just a little.—
Nothing Is more heathenish and barbarous
than to bathe children in cold, or nearly cold
water. I believe it injurious to wash our hands
and faces in cold winter water. Those who do
it will find that they have rough and cracked
The suffering of children while being washed
is but small compared with the evil effects that
often follow the application of cold water to the
head, viz congestion of the head or lungs, es
pecially the latter. True, cold water, so appli
ed, will make precocious children, and it will
also fill the graveyard with the opening buds
of infancy. I think it will, be found that more
children die with head diseases since the use
of water has been in vogue than before, and
for the reason already given.
The fact is .the brain requires and receive s
snore blood than any other organ of the system.
The application of cold water to the head in.
creases the amount; and hence it is no uncom
mon thing that children, especially "smart
ones,"die as above stated, with head disease.—
Indeed it has become a proverb among our
!outliers at least, "that oath children are too
smart to live," and it is so. By such treat
ment the brain becomes too active and large
for the body, and; like a powerful engine in a
small boat, soon shatters it to pieces and sends
it to the buttons. I cannot close my remarks
without entreating mothers in the name of hu
manity not to attempt to toughen, as it is called,
their children by half-clothing them iu cold
weather. My heart has ached as I have seen
theta thus exposed to the piercing winds of a
northern winter. Many a mother has thus
sown the seeds of permature death in her off
spring, for which she solaced herself by calling
it a "mysterious Providence."
If you will have healthy, robust children,
see that they arc warmly clad, especially their
extremities. In connection with cold bathing,
I would utter my disclaimer against the pre
vailing practice of rubbing the skin with
coarse rough towels or horse-brushes. No cr..
ror in the water treatment is more injurious.-
- A healthy skin is smooth, and velvet-like; and
anything that irritates it and makes it rough,
is injurious.
But few of the people under Stand the font.
tion of the skin, or the importance of a healthy
skin to a healthy body. My limits will not
allow of my discussing the matter here. At
some future time I may take it up. I approve
of gentle rubbing the skin with'soft Cloths; or,
better, with the bare hand. But it should not
be rubbed any way to produce unpleasant
It we credit the reports of patients who hare
taken treatment at our water•cure establish
ment?, the heroic or cold treatment is too much
in vogue itt them for their good.— Water Cure
An Old Maid's Register,
At 15 years is anxious for coming out and
obtaining the attention of men. 16, seems to
have some idea of the tender passions. 17,
talks of love in a cottage and disinterested af
fection. 18, fancies herself in love with some
handsome man who has flattered her. 19, is a
little more diffident in consequence of being
noticed. 20, commences fashionable and has
a taste for dashing. 21, acquires more confi
dence in her own attractions and expects a
brilliant establishment. 22, refuses a good of
fer because the gentleman is not a man of
fashion. 23, no objection to flirt with any well
behaved gentlemen. 24, begins to wonder she
is not married. 25, becomes rather more circum
spect in her conduct. 26, begining to think a
large fortune not quite so indispensible. 27,
effects to prefer the company of rational men.
28 wishes to be married in a quiet way with a
comfortable income. 29, almost despairs of
entertaining the married state. 30, an addi
tional attention to dress is now manifested. 31,
professes to dislike balls, finding it difficult to
get good partners, 32, wonders how men neg
lect the society ofsedate and amiable women
to flirt with chits.- 33, affects good humor in
her conversation with men. 34, too jealous of
the praises of other women, and more at this
period than hitherto. 35, quarrels with a
friend who has lately been married. 36, luta
g Ines herself slighted in society. 37; likes talk
ing of her acquaintances who have married un
fortunately, and finds consolation in their mis
fortunes.. 38, ill-nature visibly on the increase.
39, becomes meddling and officious. 40, if
rich, makes love to a young man of fortune.•---
41, not succeeding rails against the whole sex.
42, partiality for cards and scandal. 43, too
severe on the manner of the age. 44, exhib
its, a strong predilection for a methodist par
son. 45, enraged at his desrtion and accuse
the whole sex of inconsistency. 46, becomes
desponding and takes snuff. 47, atones her
insensibility to cats and dogs. 48, adopts a
dependent relation to attend her menagerie.-
49, becomes disgusted with the world and vents
her ill humor on her unfortunate keeper of the
A Lesson for the Girls.
My pretty little dears—you are so more fit
for matrimony than a pullet is to look after a
fitntily of fourteen chickens. The truth is, my
dear girls, you•waut, generally speaking, more
liberty and less fashionable restraint, more
kitchen and less parlor, more leg exercise and
less sofa, more making puddings and less pi
ano, morn frankness and less mock•modesty,
more breakfast and less bustle. I like the
buxom, bright-eyed, rosy-checked, full-brested
bouncinglass, who can darn stockings, make
her own frocks, mend trowsers command a re
giment of pots and kettles, milk the cows, feed
the pigs, chop the wood, and shoot a wild duck
as well as the Duchess of Marlborodith or the
Queen of Spain and be a lady withal in the
drawing room.—.Vrs. Ellis Lectures.
Borrowing Toole.
If is an old saying "he that goes borrowing
goes sorrowing f' and a still older one, "the
borrower is a servant to the lender." But so
fur as applies to farm tools, yankee ingenuity,
seems to have reversed these sayings, fur one
of the greatest annoyances of some neighbor.
hoods is the necessity of lending tools.--
"Won't you lend me your cart to-day 7" "I
want to borrow your crowbar." "Can't you
let us have your drag 7" "Are you going to
use your old mare today 7" "Father wants to
get your oxen." "I want half a dozen of your
new bags," &c., are usually followed by long
searches for lust bags, half day spent in get
ting carts and harrows repaired, &c. "Why
father, Mr. Dumplin said he would pay for that
cart, it you would get it mended." "Ile would
indeed would he,— this would cost him about
one-fourth of my loss of time in going to him
for it, and taking it to and returning from the
blacksmith shop, to way nothing of three days
delay in getting my work done!" But father
you know that's a great deal better than Mr.
Sugarplum did when lie borrowed your culti-
vator, for when he broke it, he .3wore at you
behind your back,l'or lending him such a 'rut•
ten machine,' and wouldn't never pay a cent.
"John wher's the crowbar: , "I don't know,
sir, I hunted for it a good deal for two or three
days." "Have you looked in the burn 7"—
"Yes, I hunted all through the barn, and the
corn house." "Have you asked Jim ?" "Jim,
hasn't you seen the crow-bur nowhere"—
"Why, yes, I saw it at Squire Noodle's; he
borrowed it one day when you was gone away
to pry up a bar-post, and it has been stickite
there ever since."
Every farmer should bare a full set of im
plements and tools, and have a place for
everything, and everything in its place. If he
has not the means, let him sell off a corner of
his farm to procure thens.---Alb. Ca/ardor. ,
A Sly Youth.
. -
"Everything is arranged fur your wedding
with Susan Tomhins," said a father to his on
ly son: hope you will behave yourself like
a man, Thomas."
The individual addrassed was a young man
seated in a chair: despatching a piece of bread
and molasses. His only answer was a sigh
accompanied with a flood of tears.
The parent started, and in no angry voice de
"W hat objections can you hare? Susan is
handsome and wealthy, and married ynu must
be some time or other. Your mother and I
were married, and it is my command that you
prepare yourself for your nuptials."
"Yes," finally sobbed 'Thomas, "that's a dif
ferent thing—you married 'nether, but Pm
sent to marry a strange gal 1"
WITY Irishman on
trial pleaded not guilty, and the prosecuting,
attorney proceeded to call Mr. Furkison as a
witness. Widh, the utmost innocence, Patrick
turned his thee to the Court and said," Do I
understand your honor that Parkinson is to be
witnessed fornist me again?" The judge saaid
it seemed so, "Well thin yer honor, I plade
guilty, not because I nm guilty, for I am as in
nocent as your honor's sucking-babes at the
brest but fist on account of saving Eister Fur
bison's sowl."
EXTIWSIASTIC, VIA:Y.—An enthusiastic ad
mirer of the fair sex, gives vent to the followin g
eloquent strain :
"A woman will cling to the chosen object of
her heart like a possum to a gum tree, and you
can't separate her without snapping strings that
no art can mend; and leave a portion of her soul
upon the upper leather of her affections. She
will sometimes see something to love, where
others can see nothing to admire and when her
fondness is once fastened on a fellow, it sticks
like glue and molasses in a bushy head of hair."
Kxow Nomixos.—The following illustrates
pretty well how most people are obliged to nn•
swer questions about the know nothings:
"Hawn, what do you tink der know noth•
"Isch not know,"
"Vel a vot dosh you tink I"
"I tink nutting."
"By, tam, dot is sheet rot I tinks."
EPITIIALAMIUNI.—The Boston Post is respon-
sible for the following; On the marriage of
Thomas Hawk, of Mansfield, to Miss Sarah J.
Dove. By our Jim :
It isn't often that you see
So queer a kind of love
Oh, what a savage ho must be.
To nowly Hawk a Dove!
,GIOE OF THE GALL: The Toledo Republican
says that a German woman went Into Scott's
hardware store, a few mornings since, bought a
cooking stove, and placing it on her hoed, delib
erately marched off with it. If she's-not mar
ried, there's a woman for you, boys.
scir Why is a lady walking in front of a
gentleman like the latest news? Because she
is in advance of the male.
GrA person who undertakes to raise himself
by scandalizing others, might as well sit down
on a wheelbarrow and undertake to wheel him
if A sawyer, atter sawing with a very dull
aw, ex:elairued, "Of all the saws I ever saw saw,
never saw a saw saw as that saw s. 5."
A VETERN SIIIPM.;;;; - t. On the last
trip of the Atlantic, Capt. West completed
his two hundred and thirty.fifth voyage.
fir Scandal, like a kite, to Ay well, depends
greatly on tie length of the tail it lint to carry
tqf'You have no business to have any business
with other people's business.
Those who possess the most teal excellence
say thu least abust it.
*4 - Hundreds of initerate beggars now in
fest Weabington city.
VOL. 19. NO. 44.
Oe farmer.
He that by the plough would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive.
How much Pork will a Bushel of Corn
Make. •
Under this bead B. J. Harvey makes some
sensible observations in the Michigan Faimer
which, although better calculated for Michigan
than Pennsylvania, may be read with profit by
some of our farmers. Ile says:
Perhaps there is no class of people in the
world, who work so much without system, and
labor so much at random—none that know Ao
little, about their expenses slid their incomes—
none that make of arithmetic so little, 113
those who till the soil for a subsistence. There
is certainly a want of a due exercise of the or
gan of calculation among this class. Tho
farmer plows, sows and cultivates his crops—
harvests, threshes and makes sale of them, or
feeds them to his stock,----but how rarely does
be keep an accurate account of the entire cost
of production, so as to know whether he gains
or loses by the operation.
I have been led to make this communication
from seeing the question asked, at the
head of this article--"how much pork will a
bushel acorn make"—in one instance the an
swer is' 15 pounds. This result was obtained,
as in some similar ones, from first weighing
partly grown hogs, and then feeding for a time, r
and then again weighing: when the only true
way to ascertain the actual cost of making a
pound of pork, would be to take into account
the entire amount of food consumed from the .
time the animal commences to eat, up to the
time of slaughtering. I have not instituted
any perfectly accurate experiments, but suffi.
dent to induce tee to believe that reckoning
as above, an ordinary hog will consume ou an -
average five pounds per day or about thirty
bushels iu one year. Now it is an extra good
hog that will weigh 365 pounds at that age ;.
but this estimate gives only about eleven pounds
of pork, to the bushel of corn consumed. The
average price of corn for this State, may be es
timated at 50 cents per bushel, which makes
the cost of production $4,11 per hundred. But
the actual average of hogs at one year old does
bet exceed 250 ponds per head, or less than
eight pounds to the bushel of corn ; or at an ac
tual cost of six dollars per hundred to the pro
ducer, when fed wholly on corn.
Now it will be seen that if the above estimate
is anything like an approximation to the, truth,
pork cannot be profitably raised in Michigan
from corn alone. And 1 have no doubt that if
this question was put to every farmer in the
State, it would be answered by nine tenths of
them on the negative. Yet the most of our
pork is made almost wholly from core. Why
is it persevered in from year to year? Will
not the answer be fouud in the first paragraph
of this communication.
I do nut meats to say that pork cannot be
profitably grown at all. No doubt with the
right kind of food and management, it may be
make at a cost of three or four dollars per hen.
dred. Boiled potatoes and pumpkins, mixed
with a pottion of corn meal, will make hogs
thrive faster than corn alone—chaugiug the
kind of food often is advantageous. Bogs will
do well in summer in good clover pasture, with
little else. Try it, you who are in the habit of
keeping your hogs in the highway. Apples are
In conclusion I will say farmers, if you hare
nothing but corn and the highway, to tnaka
pork of, take your corn on the highway to mar.
ket, and buy your pork.—Farm Journal.
Plaster on Wheat in the Winter.
Front frequent conversations with recapsl
farmers, we are all convinced that plaster on
wheat at the time of sowing, or put in with the
seed, deserves more attention than it has hith
erto received. Those who have used it aver
that the increase of the crop is not only suffi
cient to repay the expenses and labor, but has
in addition been found to return a good per
cent of profit. The plaster has the effect of
bringing forward the titnuthy or clover seed
sown with wheat, thus insuring a better after
crop of grass fur fall feed.
Plaster, by some means, we shall not under
take to say what, acts to absorb nod retain
much of the moisture of the atmosphere, or
brings it up from "its hidden depths" in the soil,
enabling young planets to obtain a larger growth
through its genial influence, especially if tho
earth 130 more than usually dry. The effect
of this will be to produco a better growth
of wheat in the fall, and thus enable it more
successfully to stand the winter, and withstand
the ruinous effects of the early spring frosts.—
So, also, it may promote an earlier spring
growth, and thus render the crop more remu
nerating. We think plaster will pay the farm
or nearly as well alihat it costs, as will guano
at the present exhabitant price, or even "Im
proved Superphosphate of Lime," with all its
boasted virtues.
How to get rid of Rats.
Prof. Bascom, of Oberlin, in a letter to the
Ohiu Farmer, says: 4111
"Would it not be well to call the attention
of your readers to the ease and certainty with
which they may be relieved from the annoy
ance of the large brown rat. This impudent
intruder often visits my labratory and other
premises. A s they come singly, I take off, each,
the night after I discover signs of his presence,
in this wise I take half a tea spoonful of dry
flouror Mien meal on a plate or piece of board,
and, sprinkle over it the fraction of a grain of
strychnine. This is set is a convenient placemnd
I invariably find the culprit near the spot dean
in the morning. The peculiar advantage of
this poison is, it produces muscular spasms,
whioh prevent the animal from reaching his
hole to die and decompose. It is needless to
add that such a vlolent . poison should be used
with care.