alt . 11111.1 tin )bIOII Intilith
WILLIAM BREWSTER,I EDITORS,
SAM. G. WHITTAKER, )
elert Vottrg.
OG.Vin
"We have but three words tosay, 'served hii
tight.' "—( Church Journal, (Episcopal.)
Served him right ! How could he dare.
To touch the idol of our day ?
What if its shrine be red with blood ?
Why, let him turn his eyes away.
Who dares dispute our right to bind,
With galling chains, the weak and pour?
To starve and crush the deathless mind,
Or hunt the slave from door to door?
Who dare dispute our right to sell
The mother from her weeping child ?
To hush, with ruthless stripes and blows,
Her shrieks nod sobs of anguish wild?
'Tis right to plead for heathen lands,
To send the Bible to their shores,
And then to make, for power and pelf,
A race of heathens at our doors.
What holy horror filled our licarts
It shook our church from dome to nave.
Our cheeks grew pale with pious dread,
To hear him breathe the name of slave.
Upon our Zion, fair and strong,
His words fell like a fearful blight ;
We turned him from our saintly fold ;
And this we did to "serve him right.'
cue
THE MISERIES OF A POLITICIAN'S
WIFE.
(The letter of Mary Matilda Shri,ker
in week before last has called out another
complaintfram a fcniininc correspondent
of ours, as follows:)
Thank heaven it is all over and some
body's elected. I've lived through it.—
Anything but having a husband so talicii
up with politics that he forgets to send
home the dinner or even to come himself
till towards the small hours. It is too bad
The trials of us peer women are beyond
endurance. I can't begin to tell you the
troubles I've had since the Philadelphia
convention. Nothing has been thought of,
(except by me) but "our glorious country,"
"the Union must be preserved," (never
thinking of the quinces that ought to have
been preserved, but were'n't) and so on
without end. I approve of Union ? Cer
tainly, but not to politics, or in politics on
ly. There are the newspapers. Ilav'nt
they spoiled all our breakfasts? Every
word must be devoured while the coffee is
cooling and the nice chops appear dressed
with cold tallow. The children dare not
speak above their breath, for "Pa is read•
ing " I remind him that the coal is out,
and that he forgot to seed the flour home to
me yesterday. He does not seem to hear
me, and after• a few minutes I repeat it with
extra energy—"We have no coal and no
flour, and I do wish that everlasting paper
was at the bottom of the Red Sea."
what's the 'natter; pity I can't
read my paper quietly '
, But good gracious you needn't be all
day about it. Here it is two good hour.'
since we commenced breakfast and not a
sound has escaped you since your eyes
rested on that thing. I really think you
don't know whether you are in the body
or out.of the body. Nov you know I think
the world of Greeley and the Tribune, but
that's no reason .vhy I should get it by
heart, advertisements and all, every mor•
.Get it all by heart? I've only been
skimmiog overit for a few minutes. I wan.
ted to see what they had to say about the
meeting last night. Where's the chil
drun r
.They swallowed their breakfasts with•
out a word, hardly daring to breathe, and
have gone to school long ago, and here I
have been waiting for a chance to speak of
our own affairs, which I think demand a
little of your attention as well as those of
our country.'
•Oh ! don't get out of patience—we'll
have all these things attended to as soon as
the election is over.'
suppose we must wait till then for
our flour and coal. It's the first of August
now, and so we'll only have to wait three
months for bleed and fire. You can do
without eating for a matter of three months
I presume.' (This was very satirical.)
'Well, I'm coming home to dinner and
will attend to them on my way up town,
but we're going to have a great meeting
to•night.'
'What time shall I have the dinner ser.
vedl'
'About three or half-past three at the
latest:
Now it is 11 p. m., and he hasn't come
to dinner yet. Suppose he has gone to
that great meeting, and after that to the
Astor or some other rendezvous to .cuss"
some speeches and discuss others—getting
excited, talking late—all leaving orwhere
they commenced, and adjourning to meet
again next night to begin where they left
off.
So it has been all summer—not a night's
sleep have I had since June ;—baby has
been regularly waked out of its first sound
nap every night, and cross enough the fol.
lowing day in consequence. Oh dear !
, this has been the time to try women.' souls
--not a day or an evening have [ been a
ble to pay a visit, take a drive, or, in fact,
have my husband's society st all. I forgot,
I did go one evening with him to a
cal meeting, heard some fine speaking,
and was pleased on returning to find it was
only eleven, and he was really home ! But
if you will believe it, my hat was no soon
, er off than he was sure somebody at the
Metropolitan must be seen that night but
he would be back in a few hours—so I
ring for the cook to soy we'll have break
fast later than usual. I must have some
sleep;—there's no answer to the bell—
ring again—same thing—l rush down to
see why she don't appear, when horesco
referens ! there's no cook ! She's cleared
bag and baggage—(probably gone election
eu•ing)—so instead of the nap 1 had pro
mised myself, I must be up earlier than
ever to prepare the breakfast—so much
for nky attending to politics one evening.
When the weather was blazing hot, I pro
posed going out of the city for a breath of
fresh air, it would be so good for the chil
dren. "Oh ! not to day, wait till next
month, I shall be more at leisure." So I
wait patiently until the next month and the
next, but still the same excuse, "wait till
after the election, the country is in danger
—we fear the Union will be dissolved."
I'm afraid see shall be dissolved if things i
go on as they have. Just think of starting
out for a little walk with your husband,,
and losing him as the first corner ! while
you stand like a fool, looking round iu ev
ery direction, wondering what can have
become of him—hesitating whether to go
up or down—finally he appears : "Only
went over the street to read the bulletin."
'Then w•e go to church Sunday morning,
and on our return, tie "drops into the St.
Nicholas fora moment, just to see what's
the news." I walk along slowly, expec
ting every 'foment he'll overtake me, but
no, his lord of-creation ship don't come
home till the evening, he "found several
interesting gentlemen front Pennsylvania,
all strong Fremont me•n, and they say
there's no doubt but he'll get at leas, ten
thousand majority in that State." Forgot
I was waiting in the street for him and ne
ver thought of dinner—believed he had not
dined himse:f." Never mind, its all over
now, and language fails to express my joy
that such an excitement has at last ended,
and we can see our husbands a little by
day, and, but my stars ! what do I see—
"A grand meeting to prepare for the con
test of 1860 r' That's little more than
human nature can bear. What. four years
more of saving the Union? No, no, "let it
slide," I shouldn't live half that time, and
I couldn't go through again whet I have,
there's no sense in it—l won't stood it—
I'll go and join the Woman's Bights Soci•
ety instanter, and then we'll see what'll
become of the babies, the house, the shirt
buttons, and the stockings ! Oh, girls !
mnrry anybody else but a politician, a mon
that is only wide awake on that subject is
not much of a companion ; no, it don't pay.
We must have some attention, if we don't
the Union can't be preserved. Our children
are crazy of the subject, and wake me up
at midnight to know "whet it means pre
serving the Union, St.e. Doubt if some el
der ones can tell—such a fuss about the
Union ! Mercy on me, it's all I've heard
(about election time) for the lost thirty
years—but there must be something to
keep up the excitement, and Sisal answers
as well as any other improbability to spec
ulate and argue upon, only it's rather a
worn out topic, and we know that the
South can't, and the North went, so what
is the use wasting breath longer? It's like
telling the children "if they don't go to
sleep the bears will catch them," when we
know there's not a bear, except the stuffed
one at the Museum, within a hundred
miles of us. Yours
A— M—.
Er Quite a laugh was raised in the
Supreme Court, not long since, by an offi
cial, who, when the judge called out for
the crier to open the court, said, "May it
please your honor, the crier cant cry to
day, because his wife is dead,
1 A player performing the ghost
in Hamlet very badly, was fussed ; after
bearing it a good while, he put the audi-
ence in good humor by stepping forward
saying-- --.Ladies and gentlemen, I must
give up the ghost„
" LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPARABLE. "
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1856.
isttliang.
Variety's the very spice of LT..
- - - - ---
SOUNDS FROM HOME,
Reverie of the Past, by an Old Man.
The fire burns brightly on the wide
hearth before me. The red flames rush
whistling, singing, up the great black old
chimney, that swallows them carelessly,
and gapes for more. I have seen youth as
bright and sparkling as those flames, rush
like them into the black gulf of ruin, and
like them, too, leave behind them cough'•
but ashes, alas ! of blasted hopes and kind
hearts stricken by despair. I tun an old
man ; I have run my race allotted by Hea
ven to all of earth. My head is bowed
down towards the dust, which will soon
claim me for its own. I should be alone,
alone in this great iron world, had I' ot
one good faithful friend, who I thank God
humbly, is still spored to me. Oh! it were
worse than death, worse, worse a thousand
times, to lose that friend. Men call it 'me
mory.' 1 call it a goad angel, for it brings
back to me those whom I loved and lost.
As I sit before these wild flames, that
throw a trembling, stooping shadow upon
the wall, this spirit one is singing in my
ears strains, sweet though sad, the melo
dies of by-gone days. Oh dearly do I love
to hear that song, to listen to those 'Sounds
from Home.' What sound from the home
of my bnyhcol is floating round me
.now ?
Have you ever heard a village church bell
1 fill the quiet air with its sweet plaintive
sourd, on one of those fair summer even•
Ingo, when all around there is such a still
and holy calm, that it seems as if heaven
itself were slumbering on earth? Such to
me this sound has always been. I know
it well ; it is my mother's voice. I has
mother once, and loved her too—who does
not? I remember, when a little child, I
tried to pray, I first would think of her, to
fill my heart with love for God. She was
my stepping.ntnne from earth to bonv.."
011, what is there like a mother's love ? or
where the love so pure as that we bear to
her ? When we are fresh from God then
is it strongest ; for as we grow older, and
the cold and sneering devil, called the
" world," breathes on us its rank withering
breath, then does our love for her who gave
its birth, wander am d so many fierce Its
man passions, that their black shadows dim
its brightness, but still it burns within our
hearts, and we confess it, too, when death
is in our homes and we are motherless.
But Memory, restless spirit, sings now
to me another strain. I hear another sound
from home. This time it is a sample strain
sung by one who was dearer to me than all
the world besides. Long years ago there
crossed my path in life a girlish form; seine
called it pretty—perhaps it was ; I never
thought of that. It was very fair with a
delicate frame, and a voice in which was
a strain as musical as the notes of a harp,
which I once hod when a child, the chords
of which were moved by the wind as it
passed over them. By slow degrees this
girlish form grew powerful in its mastery
over me. I who had a mock of love, note
found in it a master. I struggled against
this new-born power, for I was young, and
those whom I loved, and who loved tae,
would have Inc turn to other things. It is
an old story that lam telling. I called her
wife, and then there burst on me the anger
of n parent, and for a time I left my fatti
er's house, and wandered far from it. But
she, the one whose voice I still hear, was
at my side, and in her love I was happy.
She died ! See there, where the moon
beams rest on a plain marble stone, as if
they love to watch over the grave of ono
as pure as themselves, She lies there, and
I sin not at her aide !• For awhile my ho
, som, on which her-head was wont to rest,
was as cold as the earth on which she now
slumbers. But Time is a friend indeed,
for he—yes, he comforted me.
Pshaw! what is this dream we call love,
after all ? a toy to while away an hour, a
theme for boys and girls to prattle about.
I dreamed like other fools once, but now I
have learned to stare reality in the face,
and bear unflinching its cold, hard gaze.
But I must talk of her. She died, and di
ed when we were poor, and I cursed my
self that I had taken her from her home,
and had no home to give her. It was sel
fish, was it not ? but selfishness holds the
key of all men's hearts ; yes, I was selli h
to love her as I did. She died, and died
blessing me. Well, well, if what wise
and good men say be true, I shall see her
again ; that this may be, is my constant
prayer to heaven. Another sound from
home—an infant's cry. The tiny voice
of my first born is ringing in my ears
Alas ! that sound from home has been stil
led. heaven took what it had given me,
ere earth had time to wither it with its ac.
cursed breath. There to more than one
sleeping beneath that cold white stone.—
The baby is lying in its mother's arms and
'he moonbeams watch over my lost treas
ures. lam alone in the world, alone with
memory, alone with the thought of the
pest. Oh, mother, wife and child ! your
voices come to me like messengers from
the dead to the living. Still do they come
to me, sounds from a far off happy home,
beyond the grave !
Remarkable Escape of French Political
Prisoners,
In a recent article on the penal colony
of Guyana, the Moniteur stated that sev
eral political prisoners had found means
to escape, but it gives no details. A pri
vate letter brings some particulars on the
subject, of considerable interest. At the
begining of this year several political
transports, confined in the Devil's Island
conceived the idea of escaping. They
cut down some trees and built a schooner,
but owing to accident in launching, the
schooner struck and went to pieces.—
Nothingclaunted, they set to work again,
and, with such planks of the schocner as
they were able to pick out of the water,
and the stump of a large tree which floa
ted dawn the Amazonriver, they construct
ed a raft on whioh, on the 7th of August
last, seven men embarked in search of lib
erty. For four whole days they floated
nearly at random on the sea, and at the end
of that time, when their slender stock of
provisions was entirely exhausted, their
raft went ashore on a mud bank.
Two of the party--one an Italian nein,
ed Planauri, and another a Pole named
Bogenski—left the boat, and wedded a
long to the mud, hoping to find a habita
tion They were so weak that they soon
foiehemselves unable to draw their
legs out of the heavy soil, and their com
panions learned some day later that their
dead bodies, half devoured by crabs, had
been area by a native. The five who had
remained on the raft, finding that their
comrades did not return, cram ming con
vinced of the hopelessness of looking for
them, resolved to put to sea again. But
to do this it was necessary to construct an•
other raft 't being impossible to get the old
one off the mud. . For an entire week
they floated up and down along the coast
upon such pieces of wood as they had
been able to detach from the raft, and all
this time they had nothing to eat but raw
crabs, and nothing to drink'but salt water.
At length they were fortunate enough to
find a house, where they received succor
A fortnight after their departure from the
Devil's Island, the other prisoners there
Ilearned the issue of no enterprise which it
might have been thought utter madness
to undertake. A burning desire to risk
their lives in like manner for their liberty
ran through the colony.
With the help of government timber
collected for building purposes, they found
means to construct two rafts, each cepa
ble of holding twenty men. Saturday
Sept. 13th, was chosen for the departure
of. the expedition, Saturday being the day
l on which a week's provisions were served
I out the prisoners. Thirty-four men in all
gut away on board the rafts. The weath
er was stormy for two days; on the 16th
I. became fine, but the night following it
u•as frightful. In the morning of the 17,
however, the twenty men on the hrst raft
landed on a Dutch possession, inhabited
by natives, who gave them so bad a weep.
Lion that they resolved at once to start into
the interior on foot. After a painful march
l of several hours, they slept in a wood,
where they suffered greatly front insect;,
and the next day, finding no pities of rest
they could think of nothing be'ter titan
making their way back to their raft, but
they found that the natives had taken a
way their sail, and being, therefore, una
ble to put to sea, they were too glad to
pass the night in an empty hut.
On the 18th, the natives took them to
the commandant of the Dutch Tibron corn.
pany, who received them very kindly and
gave them a boat, with a letter to some na.
lives, ordering them to conduct the party
to Paramaribo They left on the 200,
and on the 27th landed safely at Parama
ribo, the capital of the Dutch Guyana, a
town of 20,000 inhabitants, situated about
four hundred kileatetres from the sea,—
There they were kindly treated by the au
thorities, and were as aurprised'aa delight.
ed to find their five friends, who were the
first to escape front Devil's Island, The
other fourteen men on the second raft al.
so arrived at Paramaribo on the 20. The
Dutch authorities, not knowing whether
they were ordinary convicts or political
convicts, thought right to keep them is
prison, were there up to September 80,
but they were to be released two days la•
ter.
A Tale.
Mr. Choate's miserable and nondes
cript manuscript has furnished the basis of
many a spirited bon mot the best we ever
saw having been penned by the late Ma
jor North. But the peculiar illegibility
of Mr. C noate's hand-writing will be seen
by the following incidents:
On the occasion of the meeting it be
came necessary that the letter of declina
tion should be publicly read, and the chair
man was called upon to fulfil the office.
Chairman accordingly arose in his seat
and thrust his hand into his left pocket to
find the letter. Letter wasn't there.—
Chairman tried the right—no go. Tried
the coattail pockets—but no success.—
Letter turned up missing. Chairman
stared at Secretary, and Secretary, in
turn, scrutinized the countenance of the
Vice President ; no Choate manuscript to
be found. The next was for the person
to whom it was addressed to go to his ho•
tel, Colonel Richard B. Jones, in Lock
street, rnd hunt the letter. Col. Jones
was as busy, when his guest entered, av a
musk-rat at high water, engaged in giving
a Dutch carpenter directions for making
an ornamental cornice ;
t•Whnt's the matter, sir," he asked, as
the fat gent rushed into the saloon, puf
fing like a porpoise; "what's your hur
ry ?"
, Why Colonel, l'ain as mad as thunder
I've lost Rufus Choate's letter to the
Democratic meeting, and they're waiting
to hear it read."
"Ah, indeed ! that's a pity," remarked
the Colonel with his usual sympathy.—
Where did you leave it last ?"
the fact is, I don't know ; but I
nm pretty sure I left it in my room."
"Have you looked there ?"
"Yes; but I can't find it."
Why, that's very strange ; nobody has
entered your room since you left. Sup.
pose you go up and take another look ?"
The fat gentleman acquiesced, and
they ascended the stairs together, when fat
which he declared to be the missing docu
ment. This he seized, and hurried up to
the State House, where the meeting was
in session,
lie entered, and as the audience were
on the climacteric of expectancy to know
what Choate's sympathies were ; fat gent's
appearance, red as a lobster in a new suit
of vermilion with a paper in his -hand,
produced a round of applause. Fat gen
tleman subsided into a chair, and wiped
his face with a square yard of fabric, while
Secretary arose, adjusted his spectacles
and necktie, pulled up his shirt collar
precisely three-quarters of an inch high•
er and them unfolded tho document.—
When he did so, he blushed scarlet, re
turnel paper to fat gent. and sat down.—
Audience began to hiss, while f at gent
soon saw that instead of Choate's letter,
he bad bought with him, by mistake, an
architectural design. The house then
went into an uproar. As it was too late
to read the letter, and while the Secretary
stated the facts of the case, our fat friend
returned to Col. Jones, to enlist his sym•
pathy. While the Colonel was thus list
lening to his chubby friend's narrative, in
outset a Dutch carpenter, with a planed
board under his arm, sawed in angles in
numerable Dutchy looked irate and, as
a 'natter of course, his employer wished
to know why.
'•Why Charms, I alms( give up dis chob,
and has noting more to do mii it—dat ish
•Why not was the surprised rejoind
.Yes, why not r added fat gent, quite
interested in the man's manner.
'Well, pccause it takes too much At till,
und too much work; und I loosh money
on it pesides.'
'Why you get all you ask, don't you ?'
inquired the Colonel.
'Yes; but you tell me de diagram was
plain, und you send me one what ish
different every ten foot und ash hard to
make ash der tuyfel.'
'Why, that's bad !' says the Colonel.—
'Let's us look at it ?'
.Derv, by tonder !' said Dutchy, produ
cing the paper and spreading it on the to
ble. Shooat dell me how you clinks I
make dot for six toilers
"The duce ! exclaimed the Colonel, with
emphasis.'
'Goodness gracious !' said the lat man,
ihe'e been making a cornice by that Choate
letter.'
Such was the case. The Carpenter—
a newly arrived Leipsiger—had by some
mistake got hold of the fat gentleman's
treasure, and supposing it to be the Colo•
nel'i draft of .tam Yankee cornice,' had
faithfully endeavored to saw out a pattern.
It was a most enexampl,d case of perse•
verance under extreme difficulties, as
Col. Choate's manuscript looks very much
what a Virginia worm fence must appear
to a gentleman upon a hard spree.
A Majority on the Wrong Stile.
Several years ago, a celebrated Metho
dist Minister and revivalist, well known
fur his eloquence and zeal in converting
souls, was preaching in Louisville. The
feeling had got pretty well up and one
night after a very t'powerful" sermon, he
came down from the pulpit for the purpose
of receiving the mourners, while the good
old hymn of
"Canaan, oh Canaan, I'm bound for the land of
Canaan."
was struck up and was chimed in by hun
dreds of voices. The hymn was conclu
ded, but there were no penitents at the al
tar. In vain he exhorted ; his words and'
appeals fell upon the ears of the congrega
tion without exciting an emotion. At
length he concluded to make a bold strike
and follow it up with a leaf, and resuming
the pulpit, after a few exhortations, he sol
emnly announced all to vote in view of
the estimate placed upon their souls. With
finger raised most significant and in the
most solemn manner he announced; all
those in favor of Christ will please rise to
their feet.
Only some eight or ten responded to
the announcement, end while the minister
was watching intensely to signify their po-
sition by "rising," a worthy member on
his feet interfered, and suggested that 'the
reason might be that the true disciples
were too modest to rote.'
At this juncture a loud voice was heard
in the gallery ; "I say, brother, it's no use
a talking, or trying to force this vote
this congregation is for the devil by at
least I wentyjive hundred majority!"
"Old Gruber."
One of the most out-spoken of Methodist
Ministers was Old Gruber.' He was a
real 'Hard Shell. On one ocoasbn, he
assisted in divine worship where a young
Presbyterian clerzymon nr..aph.a
ly against some of the doctrines of Metho
dism. Brother Gruber was asked to close
the services with prayer, which he did,
and as is customary prayed for the minis
ter. 'Oh Lord,' said he, .bless the preach
er who has preached to us this morning,
and make his heart as soft as his head is,
and then he'll do some good.'
l'he above from the Sierra Democrat,
brings to mind a dozen stories about that
good old eccentric man. We remember
him from our earliest boyhood; every dog
and cat, and every tobacco-chewer and
over dressed lady has had reason to re
member 'Father Gruber,' and woe be to
the unfortunate youngster whom he at
tempted to reprove. Arriving at the house
of ono of the brethren, his first business
was to drive out all the dogs and oat% and
then see that his horse was taken care of.
Once, at a camp-meeting, a rather flashily
dressed lady entered the altar-gate while
the old man was preaching, and walked
back and forth, seemingly afraid to sit on
the rude benches, for fear of spoiling her
finery. She had an ostrich feather in
her heaa dress, which was a sore abomina
tion in tie old man's eyes, and stopping in
the midst of a pathetic passage, he exclai
med—
"Brethren, open the gate and let that
goose fly out !"
Poor old Father Gruber ! Ile once laid
a grape vine over our shoulders, with no
very gentle hand, for smoking in the aisle
at camp-meeting. The good old soul did
not know that we had 6 dismiased from di
vine service," and were wai ing on a
bright-eyed fellow•worshipper whom we
had left on the anxious beach:—Sierra
Citizen.
Aphorisms.
The Law ruin; men, and Fashion wo
men.
There is a fitness in all things., except
ing cheap clothes.
It's a bad plan not to grumble—the
wheel isn't oiled till it creaks.
Prosperity shines on different persons,
much in the same way that the Sun shines
on different objects, Some it hardens
like mud, while others it softens like
A miser is but a humane version of the
turnspit dog that toiled every day to roast
meat for other persons eating.
Hail a oab in bad weather and. it may
come to your asalstapce; but hail a friend in
your adversity, and see what notice he
will take of you.
Lite is a Rorarnee which most young
ladies would like to begin by reading the
third volume first—as it is the one which
generally contains the marriage.
lllir Thera is no balm so soothing to a
desolate heart an kind words. the them,
friends, use them.
VOL. 70(1. NO. 51
Irgricuiturat.
"Ile that by the ?dough would thrive
Himself 'host either hold or drive..
Our Receipt for Outing Neat.
Those who will cateffilly adopt our me•
thod of curing pork and beef, will be ena
bled to enjoy as fine hams, tongues, and
“dried beer' and rounds, as the Rmperor
of all the Russians can commend, always
providing that the meat cured is of the
best quality. It is this :
To 1 gallon of water,
Take 14 lbs. of salt,
lb. of sugar,
4 oz. of saltpetre ,
oz. o( potash.
• -
In this ra , ' the pickle'tabe increased to
any quantity desired, Let these be boiled
together, until all the dirt from the sugar,
which will not be a little, ruses to the top
and is skimmed off. then throw it into a.
tub to cool, and when cold, pour it over
your beef or pork, to remain the usual
time, say four to six weeks. The meat
must be well covered with pickle, and
should not be put down for at least two
days after killing, during which time it
should be slightly. sprinkled with powder.
ed saltpetre.
Several of our friends have omitted the
boiling of the pickle, and found it to an
swer equally as well. It will not, however
answer quite so welt By boiling the pic
kle, it is pur;fied—for the amount of dirt
which is thrown off by the operat;on, from
the salt and sugar, would surpise one not
acquainted with the faot.—Gerntanlown
l'elegraph.
Fattening iwkays.
The alimentary s iroperties of charcoal
are very great ; indeed, it has been assert
ed that chmestic fowls may be fattened on
it without any other food, and that, too, in
a rhorter time than on the most nutritious
grains. In an experiment made to test
the value of thoarticle, four turkeys were
taken and confined in a pen, and fed on
era of the same brood were also confined
at the same time, in another pen, and fed
daily on the same articles, but with one
pint of very flue pulverized charcoal mix
ed with their meal and potatoes; they had
also a plentiful supply of broken charcoal
in their pen. The eight were killed on
the same day, and there was a difference
of one and a half pounds each in favor of
the fowls which had been supplied with the
charcoal, they being made the fatter, sad
the meat greatly superior 10 poiat of ten
derness and flavor, This would appear to
establish beyond a doubt, the benefit of
charcoal for fattening purposes.
How Much Should a Cow Eat.
Cows, to give milk, require more food
than most farmers imagine. J. W. John
son, writing from Munich to the Country
Gentleman, gives an interesting report of
some experiments which have been made
in Bavaria, front which the following is an
extract :
Our trials have confirmed the view that
cows, to give the greatest possible quanti
ty of milk, must daily recaive and consume
one•thirtieth of their live weight in bay, or
an equivalent therefor. Tf more food be
given it goes to the formation of flesh and
fat, without occasioning a correspond
ing increase in the yield of milk; but if, on
the contrary, less food be furnished, the
amount and value of the milk will be great
ly diminished."
Preserving Apples.
If apples are carefully peeked in hard
wood saw•dust, (how it would be with pine
we know not,) they will keep in an open
garret through our coldest winters. This
we hafe tried, and we know it for a cer
tainty. But in packing, care should be
taken that none of the apples touch the
barrel nor each other. We have had them
open in fine order when thus packed, long
after those in the cellar were rotten. or so
withered as to be useless.—Vxehaege,
Mir Among the anecdotes told of Pe
ter Burrows, the Irish Barrister, is the fol
lowing remarkable instance of absence of
mind : A friend called upon him one
morning in his dressing room, and fottnd
him shaving with his face to the wall.—
Ile asked him why he choose so strange
an attitude. The answer was, 'to look in
the glass. 'Why,' said his friend there is
no glass there !' 'Bless me !' Barrows ob
served, did not notice that before.'-••-
Ringing the bell, ho called his servant, and
asked him what had become of his look
ing glass. 'Oh sir,' said the servant, 'the
mistress had it removed six weeks ago.
lioßsEs CoAvs.--A writer in Porter's
Spirit states that he got a beautiful sleek,
glossy coat on his horse by simply giving
him a few raw carrots every day to set
The remedy is said to be infallible.