Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, November 01, 1854, Image 1
.; 10. -/ AV • .• • • 1 /). 4 \ - A . , )111°. • `1"?;,. J /„.'• 11 I,t 1 / , /1"' , _ • BY WM. BREWSTER, TERMS : The I .lloxTtrtanorl Jotinx.u." is published at the following rates: If paid- in advance $1,50 If paid within six months alter tlt time of sobseribint, If paid at the and of the year 2,00 And two flollarg and fifti• cents if not .pnid till fifter the expiration of the 'car. No subscription will be taken fur a less period than six months, and nopaper will lie tliicontinned, oxcept at the option of the Editor, until all arrearat'ces are paid. Subscribers living in distant counties,or in stir States, will be required to pay invariably in tcr The above terms will be rigidly adhered to 111 ull ADVERTISEMENTS Will be charged at the following raw,: I insertion. 2 do. 8 to. Six linos or less $ $ 37k $ 50 One square, (16 lines,) 50 75 100 Two " (32 " ) 100 150 200 Three " (48 ) 150 225 300 Business men advertising by the Quarter, half Year or Year, will be charged the following rotes: 3 mu . ; 6 ino. 12 mo. One square, $3 00 $5 00 $6 00 Twe equarce 5 00 8 00 12 00 Three squares, 750 10 00 15 00 Four squares, 9 00 • 14 00 23 00 Fire squares, 15 00 25 00 38 00 Ten squares, 25 00 4U 00 60 Ou Business Cards not exceeding six lines, one year, $4.00. JOB WORK: sheet handbills, 30 copies or less, if gf fg IC CC 11 CC CC I. If BLANIIP, foolscap or loss, per single quire, I 50 CI 64 . 4or more quires, per " 1 00 er Extra charges will be mode for heavy eir All letters nn business must be rout rein to secure attention., 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 over. 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 . I SEE NO STAR ABOVE THE HORIZON, PROMISING LIGHT TO GUIDE US, BUT TIIE INTELLIGENT, PATRIOTIC, UNITED WHIG PARTY OP TILE UNITED STATES.". 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 one.' 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 provements. '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 handkerchief. '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 titne.to time. As we took our leave of her, she graciously shook us by the hand, and ea• claimed, Au RESERUOIR.-St. Louis Republic. 4 'A ROLLING STONE GATHERS NO MOSS."— "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. HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1854. 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 positions. 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. Thompson. "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 foolish. 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 reply. "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 thee. "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 it!" " 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 premises." 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 skins. 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 sensations. 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 Journal. 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 animals. 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. P - [WEBSTER, 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 manded "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• ing?" "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 self 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 t.se 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 good. 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.