Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, December 17, 1856, Image 1
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.