Huntingdon journal. (Huntingdon, Pa.) 1843-1859, January 21, 1857, Image 1

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*tiert Vottru
WITRi Seleeted.for the Journal.
als OW 161081216.
"And he buried him in the valley in the land
of Moab, over against Beth:poor ; but no man
knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.— [Dent.
xxxtv., 6.
By Nebois lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's mire,
In a vale in the laud of Moab,
There lies a lonely grave.
Awl no man dug that sepulchre,
And no nun saw it e'er ;
For the angels of God upturned the sod,
And laid the dead man there.
That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth,
But no man heard the trampling—
Or saw the train go forth,
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes when the night is done,
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek
Grows into the great sun.
Noiselessly as the spring time
Ifer crown of verdure waves,
And all the trees on all the hills
Open their thousand leaves ;
So, wittiest sesud of music,
Or voice of them that wept,
Silently down from the mountain's crown,
The great pr cession swept.
Perchance the bald old eagle,
On grey Beth-peor's height,
Out on his rocky eyrie
Looked on the wondrous sight.
Perchance the lion stalking,
Still shuns the hallow'd spot;
For beast and bird have seen and heard
That which man knoweth not.
But when the warrior dieth,
Ms comrades in the war,
With arms reversed and muffled drum,
Follow the funeral car.
They show the banners taken,
They tell his battle won,
And after him lead his masterless steed,
While peals tip minute gut,
Amid the noblest of the land,
Men lay the sage to rest,
And give the bard nn honor'd place
With costly marble drest.
In the grant minister transept,
Where lights like glories fall,
And the sweet choir sings, and the organ
Along the emblazoned wall. [rings
This was the bravest warrior
That ever buckled sword ;
This the most gifted poet
That over breathed a word ;
And never earth's philosopher
Traced with this golden pen,
On the deathless page truths half so sago
As he wrote down for men.
And had be not high honor ?
The hillside' fur his pall,
To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall.
And the dark rock pines like tomdng plumes
Over his bier to wave,
And God's own hand in that lonely land
To lay him in the grave I
In'lhat deep grave without a name,
Whence his uncoflin'd clay
Shall break again, moat wondrous thought
Before the Judgment Day;
And stand with glory wrapt around
On the bill he never trod.
And speak of the strife that won our life
With th' Incarnate Son of Cod.
O lonely tomb iu MoaWs land,
0 dark Bett.peor's bill,
Speak to these curious hearts of ours,
And teach them to be still.
God bath his mysteries of grace,
Ways that we cannot tell.
He hides them deep like the secret sleep
Of him lie loved so well.
6pob (storg.
In one of our large towns of Worcester
County Massachusetts, used to live a cler
gyman, whom we will call Ridewell. He
was of the Baptist persuasion, and very
rigid in his ideas of moral propriety. He
had in his employ an old negro, named
Pompey, and if the latter individual was
not so strict in his morals as his master,
he was at least a very cunning dog, and
Aid in the reverend household for a pat
of propriety. Pomp was a useful
servant, and the old clergyman never hes
listed to trust him with the most import
ant business.
Now it so happened that there were,
dwelling in and about the town, sundry in
dividuals who had not the fecr of dreadful
penalties which Mr. Ridewell preached a
bout before their eyes, for it was the wont
of these people to congregate on Sabbath
evenings upon a level piece of land in the
outskirts of the town, and there race hor
ses. Thiaapot was hidden from view by
a dense.piocs of woods, and for a long
while the Sunday evening races were car-
ried on there without detection by the of•
ficers, or others who might have stopped
It also happened that the good old cler
gy Man owned one of the best horses in
the county. This horse was of the old
Morgan stock, with a mixture of the Ara
bian blood in his veins, and it was general
ly known that few beasts could pass him
on the road. M'. Ridewell, with a digni
ty becoming his calling, stoutly declared
that the fleetness of his horse never afford
ed him any gratification, and that, for his
own part, he would as lief have any other.
Yet money could not buy his Morgan, nor
could any amount of argument persuade
him to swap.
The Church was so near to the good
clergyman's dwelling that he always wstik
ed to meeting, and his horse was conse
quently allowed to rem ain in the pasture.
Pompey discovered that these races were
on the tapis, and he resolved to enter his
master's horse on his own account, for he
felt sure that old Morgan could beat any
thing in the shape of horseflesh that could
be produced in that quarter. So on the
very next Sunday evening, he hid the bri
dle under his jacket, went out into the pas
ture and caught the horse, and then rode
off towards the spot where the wicked ones
were congregated. Here he found some
dozen .horses assembled, and the racing
was about to commence. Pomp mounted
his beast, and at the signal he started. Old
Morgan entered into the spirit of the thing
and came out two rods ahead of everything.
So Pomp won quite a pile, and before dark
he was well initiated in horse-racing.
Pomp succeeded in getting home with
out exciting any suspicion, and he now
longed for the Sabbath afternoon to come,
for he was determined to try it again. He
did go again, and again he won ; and this
course of wickedness he followed up for
two months, making his appearance upon
the racing ground every Sunday afternoon
as soon us he could after "meeting was
out." And during this time Pompey was
net the only one wno had learned to love
the racing. No, for old Morgan himself
had come to love the excitement of the
thing, too, and his very motion when upon
the tracts, showed how zealously he enter
ed into the spirit of the game.
13ut these things were not always to re
main a secret. One Sunday a pious den
con beheld this racing from a distance, and
straightway went to the parson with the
alarming intelligence. The Rev. Mr. Ride
was utterly shocked. His moral feel
ings were outraged, and he resolved at
once to put a step to the wickedness. Dur
ing this weelc he made inquiries and learn•
ed the thing bud been practised all sum
mer on every Sabbath afternoon. He bade
his parishioners keep quiet, and he told
them that on the next Sabbath he would
make his appearance on the very spot and
catch them in their deeds of iniquity.
On the following Sabbath, after dinner,
Mr, Ridewell ordered Pomp to bring up old
Morgan and put him in the stable. The
order was obeyed, though not without ma
ny misgivings on the part of the faithful
negro. As soon as the afternoon services
were closed, the two deacons and some of
the other members of the church accompa
nied the minister home with their horses.
'lt is the most flagrant piece of abomi
nation that ever came to my knowledge,"
said the indignant clergyman, as they rode
'lt is, most assuredly,' answered one of
the deacons.
•Horse racing on the Sabbath l' uttered
the minister.
'Dreadful !' echoed the second deacon.
And so the conversation went on until
they retched the top of a gentle eminence
which overlooked the plain where the ra.
cing was carried on, and where some do.
zen horsemen, with a score of lookers•on
were assembled. The sight was one which
chilled the good porton to his soul. Ile
remained motionless until ho had made
out the whole alarming truth then turning
to his companions :
'Now, my brothers,' said he !let us ride
down• and confront the wicked wretches,
and if they will down upon their knees
and implore God's mercy, and promise to
do so no more, we will np) - ilake legal ac•
tion against them. 0, that my land should
be desecrated thus!' for it was indeed a
section of his fartn.
As the good clergyman thus spoke, he
started on towards the scene. The horses
of the wicked men were just drawing up
for a start as the minister approached, and
some of the riders who at once recognized
''old Morgan," did not recognize the rev
erend individual w h o ro d e him.
'Wicked me•n !' commenced the parson,
us he came near enough for his voice to
be heard, 'children of sin and shame—'
'come on, old hos,,' cried one of the
jockeys, turning towards the minister. 'lf
you are in for the first race, you must stir
your stumps. Now we go.'
'Alas !0, my wicked—' s.
'All ready !' shouted he who led in tho
affair, cutting the minister short. lind off
it 41'
And the word for starting was given.
Old Morgan knew that word too well, for
no sooner did it fall upon his ears than he
stuck out his nose, and with one wild snort
he started, and the rest of the racers, twelve
in camber, kept him company.
'Who oft ! who oa oa ! cried the parson,
at the top of his voice.
.Ily the powers, old fellow, you're a
keen one !' shouted one of the wicked men
who had thus far managed to keep close
by the side of the parson. 'You ride
, Who.ho-ho•o•o ! who a on' yelled the
clergyman, tugging at the reins with all
his might.
But it was all of no ovail. Old Morgan
had now reached ahead of all competitors,
and h‘ , came up to the judge's stand three
rods ahead, where the petrified deacons
were standing with eyes and mouths wide
'Don't stop,' cried the judge, who had
now recognized Parson Ridewell, and sus
pected his business, and who also saw at
once into the secret of old Illorgn's joining
the race. Don't stop,' he shouted again,
'it's a two mile heat this time, Keep
right on, parson. You are good for ano
ther mile. Now you go and off it in !'
These last words were of course known
to the horse and no sooner din Morgan hear
them, than he stuck his nose out again,
and again started off The poor parson
did his utmost to stop the bewitched ani
mal, but it could not he done. The more
he struggled and yelled, the faster the ani
mal went, and ere many moments ho was
again at the starting point, where Morgan
stopped of his own accord. There was a
hurried whispering among the wicked
ones, and a succession ----
winks sod Knowing nods seemed to indi
cate that they understood.
'Upon my soul, parson,' said the leader
of the abomination, approaching the spot
where the minister still sat in his saddle,
be not baring yet sufficiently recovered
his presence of mind to dismount, 'you ride
well. We had not looked for this honor.'
, Ilonor, sir!' gasped ltidewell, looking
b!aukly into the speaker's face.
.Ay—for 'ds an honor. You are the
first clergyinan who has ever joined us in
our Sabbath evening entertainments.'
4I—I, sir ! I joined you
.11a, ha, ha !0, you did it well. Your
good deacons really think you tried to stop
your horse; but I now through it; I saw
how slyly you put your horse up, But I
don't blame you fur feeling proud of old
Morgan, for I should 'feel so myself if I
ownea him. But you needn't fear; 1 will
tell all who may ask me about it, that you
did your best to stop your beast ; for I would
rather stretch the truth a little than have
such a good jockey as you suffer.'
This had been spoken so loudly that the
deacons had heard every word, and the
poor parson was bewildered ; but he soon
came to himself, and with a flashing eye,
he tried :
'Villains, what ramp you t iyhy do
ye thus—'
"Hold on," interrupted one of the par
ty, and us he spoke, the rest of the racing
men had all mounted their horses, 'hold
on a moment, parson. We are willing to
allow you to carry oil the palm, but we
wont stand your abuse. When we heard
that you had determined to try if your
horse would not beat us all, we agreed
among ourselves that if you came we
would let you in, We have done so, and
you have won the race in a two•mile heat.
Now let that satisfy you. By the hookey
but you did it well. When you Want to
try it again, just send us word, and we'll
by ready for you. Good-by 1"
As the wretch thus spoke, he turned his
horse's head, and before the astounded
preacher could litter a word, the whole
party had ridden away out ,of hearing.—
Ir. was seine time before one of the church
men could speak, They knew not what
tt. say. Why should their minister's
horse have joined in the race without
some permision from his master? They
knew how much store he sat by the ani•
oral, and at length they shook their heads
with doubt.
"It's very very strange," said one
"Very," answered a second.
“Ilemarkab!e," suggested a third.
4, 0 u my soul, brethren, apoke Ridewell,
"I can't make it out."
The brethren looked at each other, and
the deacons shook their heads in a very
solemn and impressive manner.
to the party rode back to the clergy-
man's house, but none of the brethren
would enter, nor would they stop at all.—
Before Monday bad drawn to a close, it
was generally known that Parson Ridewell
raced his horse on the Sabbath,and a meet.
ing of the church was appointed for Thurs
Poor Ridewell was almost crazy with
vexation ; but before 'Thursday came,
Pompey lound out how matters stood, and
he assured his master that he would clear
the matter up ; and after a day's search,
he discovered the astounding fact that
some of those wicked men had been in
the habit of stealing Old Morgan from the
pasture, and racing him on Sabbath after
noms ! Pomp, found out this much—but
could not find who did it !"
As soon as it became known to the
church, the members confered together,
and they soon concluded that under such
circumstances a high 'nettled horse would
be very apt to run away with his rider
when he found himself directly upon the
So Parson Ridewell, was cleared, but it
was a long while before he got over the
blow, for many were the wicked wags
who delighted to pester him by offering to
"ride a race" with him, to "bet on his
head," or to "put him again,t th• world
on a race." But Ridewell grew older,
his heart grew warmer, and finally he
could laugh with right good will when he
spoke of his unexpeclel race. Besure
there was no more Sabbath racing in that
To Extract Grease front Clollt.—The
following is infallible : To sixteen ounces
of rectified spirits of wine add ten grains
of carbonate of potash, (pure) half an oz.
of essential oil of bergamot, and one ounce
of sulphuric ether; mix and keep in a
glass stoppered bottle. Apply with a piece
of crtnnt.. • • --• ••
when the grease is recent. The mixture
emits a peculiarly fragrant odor, and being
a fluid soap, chemically combined, will be
found a perfect solvent of oily matter.—N.
Y. Tribune.
CHEAP DYE.—Chestnut bark boiled in
water, in an iron vessel, makes a kind of
stone color more permanent for either cot
ton or woollen goods than some more ex•
pensive dyes. Dip the goods in a solution
of copperas and alum, in water, then in
the dye ; stir constantly until the color is
deep enough, and dry before washing.
APPLE PumaNa.—Put a pint of sour,
sliced apples in n small pudding dish, and
corer with a batter made of one cup and a
half of sour cream, one egg, two cups and
half of flour, and a tea spoonfull of saler•
atus. Bake a dun hour; eat with cream
and sugar.
WHITE CUP CAKE.--One cup of white
sugar, one half cup of butter, the white of
four eggs, hnlf a cup of sour cream, hnlf n
tea-spoonful of saleratus, and three cups o ,
flour. Or one cup of sugar, one of butter,
the whites of eight eggs, and one cup of
AtujinB.—Melt hall a teacup of butter
in a pint and half of milk ; add a little salt,
a gill of yeast and four eggs ; stir in flour
enough to make a batter stiffer than for
griddle cakes ; if kept in a moderately
warm place it will rise sufficiently in eight
or nine hours.
To Clean Black Silk Gloves, Kid Boots
and Shoes.—To three parts of white of
egg, add one part of ink. Nlix it well,
then damp n sponge with it, and rub it
over the gloves, &c.
C, wain Cure pr Sures and Runnings.
—Wash them in brandy, and apply elder
leaves, changing them two or three times
a day. This will dry up all the sores,
though the legs were like a honeycomb.
To Clean Black Silk.—Take an old kid
glove boil it in a pint of water for an hour.
Then let It cool, and, when cool, add a lit
tle more aliter, and sponge the silk with
the liquid.
Tu make Yellow Butler in Minter.—
Put into the cream, just before churning,
the juice of grated carrots, and it will itn
provcnot only the color, but the quality of
the butter.
Fried Cakes = oae cup of sugar, ono of
sour cream, two eggs, a tea spoonful of
saleratus dissolved in a half cup of boiling
water, and a little cinnainod or nutmeg.
Btsekwheat daes.-13uckwheat cakes
are improved by soaking fine the cakes
lift at one meal, and putting them into the
batter for the next. H. M. D., Gansvort,
N. Y.
' 11 ..' 1 7 1211 '
# '
~~x xtllaii:.
Questions for the Thoughtful.
There are seven hundred thousand pia.
nos in use in the United States, according
to authentic statistics. At $3OO each, they
would amount to over two hundred million
dollars. This sun; would endow twenty a
gricultural colleges and experimental farms
with a capital of $lOO,OOO each—Which
would tie of the greatest benefit to the coun.
try ? Or it would build two thousand
handsome and commodious school houses,
costing one thousand dollars each—which
would be the most useful ? Or it would
build a Pacific railroad; would this be ns
advantageous as the music machines? Or
it would provide a splendid library, each
of a thousand volumes or more, to one thou
sand neighborhoods—would this be a bet
ter outlay? Or it would provide every his
man being in the world with a cheap copy
of the Bible, or a goon Testament—would
this he a profitable substitute ?
Every one, however, thinks that he or
she is excusable in his or her very panic
ular case. Drops make the ocean—rivu•
lets the mighty river,
There are, in the United States, at least
fifteen thousand steeples to places of wor
ship, costing on an average, six hundred
dollars each. This sum, nine millions, ex
pended in their erection, would give a Tes• l
tament to every human being to Africa or
a Bible to every adult ; or thitty pages of
tracts to every person in Asia ; or a Sab•l library of fifty volumes each,
to nine hundred Sabbath schools ; or pay
the schooling for one year of a thousand
orphans. Would any of those objects be
really worth more than the steeples, the
houses of worship being equally comforts-'
ble in all other respects without thera
Could there not possible by any improve
ment in the way in which our good citi
zens expend some of their money 1 And
are we as a people, sufficiently removed
feting all provided for; so far as our scant y
means will admit 1
The Reported q!eat Lake in Africa is
The Westminster Review for October
notices , 'Explorations and Discoveries du
ring four years' wanderings in the wilds of
South-Western Africa, by C. J. Anderson"
—from which we extract this paragraph :1
"C. J. Anderson has put an end to a lie
which was beginning to gain credence a
mong us. African missionaries, penetra
ung some little distance inwards from the
southwestern side of the continent, recent.
ly brought information, which they recei
ved second-hand from Arab travellers, of
a vast fresh water lake far in the interiOr,
described as being of enormous dimensions
—as nothing less than a great inland sea.
Frequenters of the Geographical Society's
meetings at Whitehall have observed in
consequence, on the site which used to be
marked in the maps as a sandy desert, n
blue spot, about the size of the Caspian,
in the shape of a hideous inflated leech.
We trusted that a more accurate survey.
would correct the extetne frightfulness of
the supposed form. Mr. Anderson, how
ever, has spared us further excitement.
The lake turns out to be a mirage—a my
thus with the smallest conceivable nuclus
of fact. On the very spot occupied by this
great blue leech—long. E. from Green
wich 23, lat. 20 21— he found a small
speck of hitter water, (not fresh) something
more than twenty miles across, or the size
of Lnugh Corrib, in Galway. So perishes
a phantom which has excited London geo
graphers for a whole season."
A Sacred Band of Friends.
In ancient Thebes a phalanx of warn•
ors was formed numbering one thousand
members, composed of pairs of friends,
each pair consisting of n veteran and youth.
The whole company was called the "Sa•
crud Band of Lovers and Friends." They
were pledged never to forsake one another
ho matter what the emergency. In a bat
tle with Philip of Macedon, they all per.
ished together, every man of them, side
by side, in one place, surrounded by heaps
of their foes. Atter the conflict Philip re.'
cognized them, and was so moved by the
pathos of the scene, and the sublimity of
their devotedness, that—alluding to the
scandalous rumor concerning them—he ex
claimed, while the tears ran down his face
—"Let no one dare to any that these were
dishonored men." Now the plainest prin•
ciples of social polity require that the
whole world should be one sacred hand of
lovers and friends, inseparably united, sus
taining ono another through the trials of
this tempted and faltering life, rind beneath
the eye of their Almighty Friend. dwel
ling together all around the rege-nerated
earth in the bonds of peace, the beauty of
holiness, and n community of weal.
Studying Grammar.
Joseph 'l'. StickTnghatn, one of the best
of living writers and grammarians, once
said that "Not a child in a thousand ever
received the least benefit from studying the
rules of grammar before he was fifteen
years old."
We believe chat countless thousands of
dollars are more then thrown away, in de
fective modes of modern school teaching.
Children are put to studies long before
their time—long before their minds are ca
pable of comprehending their nature—and
in the vain and painful effort to do it, dis
ease is often engendered, by the premature
and undue straining of the brain, to say no.
thing Of that distaste and utter aversion to
study, which is a very natural result, last
ing sometimes for life, thus destroying, in
embryo, minds which, had they been duly
led, might have beep the ornaments of any
We consider it a radical defect in our
schools, that children are made to study
branches which are above their compre
hension, allied to an errur not less mischie
vous, of being sent to school too early, A
child should never be allowed to enter a
school-room, not even a Sunday-school, if
it has religious parentr, until the seventh
year, and for the next three years, should
be allowed to study but one branch at a
time, for a period of not over two hours at
a time in the forenoon, and one in the al
ternoon; to have no studying to do at home '
and be compelled to play in the open air,
at least three hours after breakfast and two
hours after dinner ; the remainder of the
time acing expended in some pleasurable
and useful handicraft.
From ten until sixteen, we would have
them give four hours daily to brain work,
learning one thing at a time. making thor
ough work of that one thing, so as never
to have to learn it again, or unlearn a por
tion of it.
• lk assured, it is for the wont of some
M!9 , l l 4 l je,tki %RfrS, risme*
of many things, but knowing nothing
critically or thoroughly; for after all, that's
only knowledge which makes us acquain
ted, with the minutite of any subject.
The following table, compiled from °tit
dal sources, and which is entirely correct,
will be an interesting and useful table for
preservation. It gives the votes cast in
the several States on the 4th of November
last for Electors of President and Vice
President of the United States .
States. Buch'n. Fillm' r. Frem't.
, Maine, 38,038 • 3,235 65,514
N. Hampshire, 32,567 414 38,158
Vermont, 10,577 511 39,561
Massachusetts, 39,240 19,726 108,190
Rhode Island, 6,680 .1,675 11,467
Connecticut, 84,995 2,615 42,715
New York, 135,878 124,667 874.705
New Jersey, 46,943 24,115 28,351
Pennsylvania, 230,154 82,178 147,350
Delaware, 8,933 6,175 306
Maryland, 39,115 47;462 281
Virginia, 00,352 60,132 286
North Carolina, 48,246 36,886 -
56,617 42,429
6,358 4,833
Alabama, 46,639 28,552
Mississippi, 35,393 24,213
. . •
Louisiana, 22,109 20,731
Tennessee,73,o3B 60,178
. ,
Kentucky, 69,509 63,891
Texas, 28,757 10,21.1
Arkan . sas, 21,e99 10,706 -
Aissouri, 58,104 48,524 -
lowa, 36,241 9,444 44,126
Wisconsin, 52,07 579 66,092
Illinois, 105,344 37,451 96,180
Indiana, 118,672 23,386 94,370
Ohio, . 170,903 28,125 187,07.
M ichigan, 52,119 1,560 71.762
California, 51,925 35,131 20,839
1,828,022 570,,58 1,437,625
The Electoral Colleges of the different
States, with the exception of Wisconsin,
met pursuant to law on-the 3d ultimo, and
cast their votes in accordance with the ex.
pressed will of their respective constituent
Slates. The electoral votes will therefore
wand thus:
For Buchanan and Breckinridge, 174
For Fremont and Dayton, 108
For Fillmore and Donelson,. 8
These votes will be canvassed by the
two Houses of Congress on the Wednos,
day of February next.
pc7. The late eccentric Dr. Abernethy,
silenced a loquacious woman by the lollow
ing expedient :
your tongue cut, Madam." The
lady complied. ..Now keep it out nail I
am doae talking."
. _ _
car Prentice says, ['resident Pierce
its a letter to the New York Agricultural I
Society, declares his preference far a far.
mar'. life. He will have a chance to go
to raising potatoes after the 4th of Match,
and even though he may be as miserable
a farmer as he is a President, we don't
believe he will ever be able to rain os
small a potato as himself.
wr& - e*
VOL. X.XIL, NO. 3.
"He that by the plough would thrive
Himself must either hold or drive."
How Deep Should Name be Buried.
This is a question which is still unsettled
and there's as many different opinion, on
the subject now as as any former time,
before it had been so much discussed.
It is still a question with many farmers,
whether much is lost by evaporation,
when manures are only partially hurried
in the soil. It is contended that nothing
but wa:er evaporates, and that all the real
essence is left behind when the manure
seems to be drying up, on the surface or
very near to it.
It is also asserted that no loss is sustain
ed when they are spread broadcast in Os•
tober, over mowing grounde, and that
more benefit is realized by this mode of
application than by any other. It is dif
ficult to settle such questions satisfactori
ly. Seasons and circumstances alter ca
ses. We know that manures are often
buried too deep, and we are not quite
sure that any other covering than that
tvhich is done by the hnrrow is useful.
We have now a heavy field of corn of
eight acres. It was planted late in May.
All the manure was from the winter heaps,
made by horned cattle and a horse, and a
small quantity from a oowyard. This
manure was carted out in the spring, and
all of it spread over the field on the green
sward furrows that were turned last fall
and last May. No time was found to
bury this manure otherwise than with a
harrow-20 oxcart loads were put on each
acre—and though the weather was rather
dry till the middle of July; the corn lathe
heaviest that we have had for many years.
—Massachusetts Plowman.
New Process of Making Butter.
Mr. D. M;nthern, of Jefferson County,
exhibited nt our late State Fair at Water
f men era., rote e a'new ye- .A.a.,,tica--as.
This sample of butter is made by my
improved method, whereby every drop of
water is.taken out of it by solar evapora
tion. In this process I claim to have so
perfected butter•making that butter can be
kept sweet several years without the ran
cid odor caused by the decomposition of
water and buttermilk that prevades most
of the butter at the present time.
'.The following is an outline of my
improved process: Firstly, in churning
the cream, enough ice should be put into
it occasionally to make the butter come in
crumbs; pour b oil the buttermilk, and
wash the butter several times in soft ice
water until there ceases to be any milky
apnearance, During the process of wash
ing, should there be a solid lump of but
ter large enough to contain a cell of fluid,
that lump should be crushed. while in
the water, and broken into a correspon
ding size with the other crumbs. Lastly,
wash it in brane made of rock salt, saltpe
tre, soft water and ice; skim the crumbs
out of the brine with a skimmer, drain
each skimmer full well, and spread the
crumbs of batter on zinc plates On cold
weather wooden tables will do instead.)—
In very warm weather the zinc plates
should be set on ice water. While the
crumbs are spread out thinly, -place the
butter in the middle of the milk-room; o
pen all the windows, and a current of air
passing over it will evaporati all the mois
ture in warm weather, if the room is suit
ably ventilated. Care should be taken
not to have any other moisture like water
on the floor, or wet dairy furniture, in the
room. When the butter is perfectly dry,
pack it down immediately; let there be no
more working of it than is necessary to
puck it solid in a jar or tub. This will se
cure unbroken the crystals of butter and
its original flavor. As near as I can as
certain, there will not exceed one ounce
of salt to ten pounds of butter by the pro
cess of brine salting, As a general thing
in making for hospitals, gouty invalids
and sick persons, the salting process should
be omitted altogether. Butter made in
this way (without salt,) if sealed in cans
or jars and placed in an atmosphere or
chamber of bin-oxide of nitrogen, I be
lieve will keep any number of years,"
Frosted Peet.—A writer in the New
York Journal of Commerce says the fol
lowing is a simple and effectual remedy
against frosted feet, and one that will afford
immediate relief :—Heat a brick very hot,
and hold the foot over it as closely as it
can be held without burning. Cut an on
ion in two, and dipping repeatedly in salt,
rub it ell over the foot. The juice bf the
onion will be dried into the foot aa4 Iffe c t
a cure in a very short time. U this is done
I for a few times, it is almost certain torture
your feet entirely,