i1_1)...,..C._ . __ '':',.-Ittlitlitti3Oun
WILLIAM BREWSTER, }
EDITORS,
SAM. G. WHITTAKER,
Outer Nits.
A NODE TO SPRING.
DT AN ENDIONENT FARMER.
Well, spring, youv cum at last hey fon I
The poit sez youv been a sittin in old Winter's
Lap. Now slat you ashamed of yourself?
I spout the old feller's bin a bussin you.
1 should think he bad from your broth
A bein so cold—but that's the way then,
old fellers hey a doin.
Well, as I was sain,
Your cum at last, with your hammy
Broth a blowin from the Norwest—
Westeonstant or Newbrasky I spose,
Orate Kuntries for barn, I rockiu !
Now youv cum, wen
Everybodi'e cede, an Korn, an things,
Hoe all bin fed out I Now luk at
our Kritters, will ye See our Kalil
On the lift, a heviu to be studdied by
Thor tales when tha gits up a mornins!
Luk at our bosoms wats all rejoiced
To skellitunes, a weepin over a Croft—
A hull troft full of bobs I
A hull troft full of bitter rekalekshuns.
• Luk at them sheep a lien in
The fens kournurs a waitin foe grass 1
Yis an theyv bin a waitin sum ov
Them for wren I—Ao of tha want
l'uld they'd a bin shakin their lox
At yu and sed "Un dun it I" (that thur
to lioin Hamlet, won ov Shakspurs plais,)
As another poit sez—"Gras diffurred maks
The stumak ake"—so these ohepe will
Never open their lee onto grass ngin—No I
Nor onto fodur.
Now luk at them hogs, as has bin
A follerin them Katil wat hay bin
Stuft on ha! Sc etn, will ye, a erepin
Round az if theys tetched with Kerns—
Luk at thur ize will ye—biger than
Enny eabhitch lefe.
Si them shotes
A lenin unto the fens to squeal!
Lott at them ores a hangin pendia
Unto filch little hogs ! See a hundred
Cud shoats rejoiced down to a even
Korn basketful!
l es, that Laura of your aut., cr
Tardy, loiterin Spring! a hanging bnk
Az youv bin a duin.
But now your corn,
We tele yer aerie protean wen we
GB round onto the south side of the barn ;
We hear the hens a cacklin wen theyvo
l.ade aeg ! We se the horsereddish
A Marin up alongside the gnrding
Fens. The whnin is a lukin into
The old teapot, arter garding sedan !
All these things make think your co i n,
Ef so be Iv riled
Ye, Spring, a shoin up of yer short =mins
Jest set it down to Navin a poit's
(The I !taint taken wun out yit, I tu.)
Position in Sleeping,
.
Hall's Journal of health has an article
upon this subject, upon which it is argued
that it is better to sleep on the right side
titan on the left, and says, after going to
sleep, let the body take its own position.
If you sleep on your back, especially soon
defter a hearty.tneal, the weight of the di
gestive organs, and that of the food, resting
on the great vein of the body, near the
backbone, compresses it, and arrests the
Blow of blood more or less. If the arrest is
partial, the sleep is disturbed, and there
are unpleasant dreams. If the meal has
been recent or hearty, the arrest is more
decided, and the various sensations, such
as falling over a precipice, or the pursuit
of a wild beast, or other impending dan
ger, and the desperate effort to get rid of
it arouses us, that sends on the stagnating
blood, And we wake in a fright, or treat•
or perspiration, or feeling of exhaus
tion, according to the degrees of stagnation
and the length and strength of the effort to
escape the danger. But when we are not
able to escape the danger, when we do fall
over the precipice, when the t imbling
building crushes us—what then ? That
is death That is the death of those of
whom it is said, when found lifeless in their
bed in the morning: .‘ [hey were as well
as ever they were, the day before;" and it
is often added, "and ate heartier than corn•
mon," This last, as a frequent cause of
death to those who have gone to bed well,
to wake nio more, we give merely as a pri
vate opinion. The possibility of its truth
is enough to deter any rational man from
a late and hearty meal. This we do know
with certainty, that waking up in the night
with painful diairboia, or cholera, or bili
ous choltc, ending in death in a very short
time, is properly traceable to a large meal,
'Lo the winter is past, the rain is
over and gone, the flowers appear on the
earth, the singing of birds is come, and
the turtle is heard in the land ; the fig
tree putteth forth her green figs, and the
vines with the tender grapes give a good
The net of heaven is immense ; its
meshes are wide, and yet nobody es
capes.
rob cstorg.
Squire Longbow's Seoond Mar
riage.
Squire Longbow sincerely mourned the
loss of his wife—internally and externally.
Externally ho wns one of the strongest
mourners I ever saw. He wore a weed
floating from his hat, nearly a loot long It
was the longest weed that had ever been
mounted at Puddleford ; but our renders
must not forget who Squire Longbow teas
—a magistrate and leading man in the com
munity. And while the render is about it
he may also recollect tha, the Squite is not
the Only man, east or west, who has ventu
red upon a little ostentation over the grave
of the departed—nor woman either.
Who was to be the next Mrs. Longbow?
That was the question. The public, in
deed, asked it long before the Squire.—
Who was to have the honor of presiding
at the Squire's table. What woman was
to be placed at the head society in Puddle
ford The Swipeses and Beagles, Aunt
Sonora, Aunt Graves, and Sister Abigal,
and scores of others, all began to speculate
upon this important subject. Even Tur
tle and Barnes indulged in a few general
remarks.
Aunt Sonora gave it as her mind that
"the Squire ought to be pretty skeery how
he married anybody, base if he got one of
them fliper for•gibblet sort of woontnen, she
would turn the whole house inside nut, and
he'd be one of the most miserablest of all
men." She said, if he know'd what was
good for himself, he'd just keep clear of
all the young gals that were fussing and
fidgeting about him, and go right for some
old stand by of a woman, that know'd how
to take thebruntof things—but lure a one,"
continued Aunt Sonora, "there's 110 doing
nothing with these old widowers—they're
all like my Uncle Joe, who married in a
hurry and repented afterwards—and the
ru-trir dor. nhl am,lrl arn'l hail n minute's
peace since."
The Swipes and Beagles, whom it will
be recollected, belonged to a clique that had
in times past warred against Longbow &
Co„ , .tho't it would be shameful for the
Squire to marry at all—it would be an in
salt ngin the memory of poor old Mrs.
Longbow who was dead and gone." (Some
people, you know, reader, abuse the living,
but defend the dead.) "And if the Squire
should marry, they should think for ih'ir
part, that she'd rise up out of her grave
and haunt them ! She could never sleep
easy, if she know'd the Squire had got
some other woman, who was eating her
preserves, and wearing out her clothes,
and lording it over the house like all pos -
armed."
Other opinions were expressed by other
persons—in fact, the &pre's widowhood
wns the great concern of Puddleford. "He
was so well on to do," as Aunt Sonora used
to call it, that he was constoered a great
"catch."
a - After a few weeks of sorrow, the Squire
himself began to entertain notions of mat
rimony. It Is true he had passed the age
of sixty, and it required a great effort to
get up a sufficient amount of romance to
carry cn such an enterprise. Symptoms
began however to wax strong. The first
alarming indication was his attendance at.
church. The Squire had always been n
kind of heathen, in this respect, and had,
for many years set a poor example ; but
people who want to marry, will go to
church. Whether this is done to get up a
reputation, or simply to take a survey of the
unappropriated female stock yet remaining
on hand, I cannot say.
'fhe Squire 'ens “fixed up" amazingly,
the first time I saw him at church. Ills
hair had been cut and thoroughly greased
Hts shirt collar covered his ears; and his
boots shone like a mirror. Aunt Sonora
said he looked enymost as good as new."
Aunt Graves was in the choir that day, and
she sang as she never sang before. She
blowed all the heavy strains of music—
, strains that lifted her on her toes directly
into Squire Longbow's face. Whether she
had any design in this, is more than I no
ticed; but I can say some twinges about the
Squire's lips, and a sleepy wink of the eye
looked a little like magnetism. It was ri.
diculous, too, that such an old castle sho'd
be stormed by music.
But the Squire exhibited other symptoms
of matrimony: Ho grew more pompous
in his decisions, disposed of cases most
summarily, and quoted law-latin more fre
quently. It was about this time that he
talked about the "aux vomica" instead of
the "vox Populi." Ile used to "squash"
proceedings before the case was half pre.
tented; and, in the language of Turtle,
"he tore around at a great rate." Turtle
said "the old Squire was getting to be an
old fool, and he was coin' to have him mar-
" LIBERTY AND UNION, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE AND INSEPABABLB. "
HUNTINGDON, PA., WEDNESDAY, JUNE 17, 1857.
tied or diamiard from office—than warn't
no livin' with him."
There were a great many nnnions moth
ers about Puddleford, who were very decd.
rious of forming nn alliance with the Long
bow fnittily. Even Vire Swipes, as much
as she openly opposed the Squire's tear
rinse in ger4rill, seeretely he ed that a
spark 'nigh! t•erirucl, up between him and
her, daugloer, Mort• 4.t le, Arabella Swipes;
and Mrs, Stvipt , s was in the hihit of send
ing her daughter ever to the Squire's house
to Inquire of him "to know if she couldn't
do sunthin' for him in his melancholy con •
dition," and Sister Abigal went down see.
eral times to "put things to rights," and
was as kind and obliging, and attentive to
all the Squire's wants, as ever Mrs. Long
bow was in her Wittiest days. On these
occasions, Sister Abigal used frequently to
remind the Squire of this great bereave
ment. and what en angel of a wife he had
lost; and the things didn't lom, ns they us
ed to du when she was around, and she did
not wonder he took on so, when the poor
thing died."
But, reader; Ike Turtle had ordered
things otherwise. He was determined to
strike up a match between the Squire and
Aunt Graves. So Ike made a special via
it to Aunt Graves one evening, for the pur
pose of surveying and sounding along the
coast to see how the water laid, and how
'the old soul would take it,' to use his lan•
guage:
I have already given no outline of Aunt
Graves; but I will now say farther, that
she never had an offer of matr.mony in her
whole life. She wns what is termed a
"touchy" old maid. She professed to hate
men, and affecting great distress of mind
when thrown into their society. Aunt
Graves was just ironing down the semi
of a coat she had unished, when Ike called.
Ike opened the conversation by remind
ing Aunt Graves that '•she was living along
kinder lonely like."
'Lonely 'sough, s'pose,' she, replied,
snuppisniy.
.11on't you never have tne uuu
get sorter qbstrep'rons
Aunt Graven 4.lid'nt know no she did.
'Why in the name of old Babylon, don't
you marry 1'
'Marry, Me marryniarry a man--a
great awful man 1' and the iron flew thro'
the seams like lightning.
.Yes,' . continued Ike. 'marry—marry a
mon—why, women you are getting an
old and yellow as autumn leaves. What
have you been livin' for—you've broken
up all of the laws of Scr pter inter pie
nes- and keep on breakin' on
,'em- adding
sin unto sin, and the thing's getter be
stopped. Now, Aunt Graves, what do
you thinlc- there's Squire Longbow, as
de ssolete as sndoni, and he's gotter have
a women. or Ow 1.1.1 .0 toll run as crezy
ns a loon e • b.• 11 , )u,e1,1(1
affairs. and you Ice , r h n.edc and
to wash, and Li, n• „ ,:1 , 111 tiok , . pickles
and sto p; and. Ih. y '•• a proper age
--what say ?”
Aunt Graves ran to the fire, plunged
her goose into the ashes, acid gave the
coals a smart stir. She then dropped
down into her large melting chairOsippd
her cheek upon her elbow, fixed hi:fr eyes
on the floor, and come near going off in
hysterics.
Ike dashed a little water into Aunt
Grave's face, and she revived. After ha.
ving gained strength, she replied in sub
stance to lk.. s in a very languishing, die•
away air :
" , She couldn't say—she didn't know--
if it was a duty . if she could really believe
it wos a duty•- if she was called on to fill
the poor old dead and gone Mrs Longbow's
place--•folks were born inter the world to
do good, and she had on lar been me of the
most unprofitablest of servants ; but she
could never marry on her own ntcount.-"
.In other words,' exclaimed Ike, cutting
her short, 'you'll go it.'
Aunt Graves agreed to 'reflect on't.'
It was not long after this consultation
that Mrs. Swipes began to 'smell a rat,' as
she sold. Sho commanded Mary Jane
Arabella 'never to darken the doors of that
old'hog, Longbow, agin ; and as for alit:
female critter,Gravev,'she'd got a husband
living down at the east'ard, and they'd all
get into prison for life, the first thing they
know'd.'
Sister Abigal declared, 'she'd hbve Aunt
Graves turned out of church, if she look a
titan who warn't a member.' This was a
great deal for sister Abigal to say, for she
had been the bosom friend of Aunt Graves
'people in the church and people out of the
church, shouldn't orter jinn themselves
together—it ohs agin Scripter and would
get everything inter a twist.
But Ike Turtle had desired that the
marriage should go on. Ile even went so
fat as to indicate the first letter of the
Squire's to Aunt Graves l'hie letter,
which Ike oxkihitod to his friends. as one
of the beit lit , rary r4pecimen., ,ve. indeed
_ .
a callosity. I pr,...n.”.•• Own , is nothing
like it a the G e It opened
by iiilarapne. In (ir ,c: tnu suit,' the
•loss..)fhi a :1,11 el•ii very erevi-
Ono lib,. or, t r •Itit ltX his mind on to
nny'lling—tti it ilia, world (iidn't seem at
all as it used to do—that he and his wom
an had lived in peace for thirty years, and
the married state was natural to him—that
he had always liked Aunt Graves since the
very first time he had assn her, and so did
his woman too,' and many more declara
tions of similar import, and it wris ; signed
t.l. Longbow, Justice of the Peace,'and
si tiled too, that his dignity might-com
mand even if his person did not win, the
itai.ctions of this elderly damsel.
Aunt Graves surrendered—all this with.
in two months after the death of Mrs.
Longbow. Ihe Squire east off his weeds,
and made violent preparations far matri
mony. and on a certain night—l shall ne
ver forget it—the affair came off
There was a gathering at the Squire's
—rt sort o,' general invitation had been ex
tended far and near— the Swipesea and
Beagles, Aunt Sonora and all. Great pre.
pdrations had been made in the way.af
eatables. The Squire was 'rigged in a
suit of home•mmle,'(made by Mrs Long
bow, too, iri her life,) a white vest, and he
wore a cotton bandanna neck hankerchie.,
with heavy bows, that buried his chin, and
a pair of pumps, and clouded blue stack
lugs. Aunt Graves' dress cannot be de
scribed. She was a mass of fluttering rib
bons, and she looked us though she would
take wings and fly away. Bigelow Van
lych and Ike Turtle conducted the cere- I
mony—the one took the ecclesiastical, the
other the civil management. When tilt !
couple wore ready, Turtle sat down in
frost of them with the statutes under his
arm, with Bigelow at his right hand,
'l'urtle examined the statutes amid pro
found silence, for some time, turned down
fount! himself thorotigqi - fireranti.d'Antiltl
solemn occasion. Finally, he arose, and
with a gravity that no man ever put on be
fore or since, exclaimed— •
.Miss Giss Graves, hold up yer right
hand and swear.'
Miss Graves said site was a metuber of
the church, and dnr'sent swear.'
Ike said it was .legal swearing he wan
ted, 'cording to the staters—not the etched
sort—lie wanted her to swear that she was
ov, fotirteen years of age--hadn't gut no
husband living nowlier,—wurit't going to
practice no 'rood nor 11 . 1101111 . 011 Squire
Lotighow--and that ~1n...1111.1 jot as good
a right to get niarri..d,, ..s ,
Gritt,s i fe, ['l., I,
Squire Lotigoim •i.t. t lon the risk
of the fourtueu year, 01 .ige• ...I the fraud,
aigl finally he would ui the whole ou't.
Ihe sta einent Was weil ;enough, but it
warn't to be presumed that a Justice tithe
Peace would go agin 'em. Some folks
didn't know 'em—he did.'
Ike said •there was something another
io the stators about wimin's doin' things
without any tear of compulsion of anybody
and li. guessed he'd take Miss Graves in•
to another room, and examine her sepa
rately frorn her intended husband.' I'his
was a joke of Turtle's.
The Squire said “that meant married
wimin--orter the ceremony was over, that
etc would he legal and proper."
Mrs. Swipes said .for her part, she tho't
the oath orter be put—it would be an aw
ful thing to see a poor thing foreed . into
marriage.'
Sister Abigal thought so too.
Aunt Sonora hoped there wouldn't no
thin' did wrong, so the people could take
the law on 'em.
Tullio said 'that they needn't any on
'en fret their gizzards--he Was responsi
ble lor the la' of the case.
Bigelow then rose, and told the parties
to jine handl, and while they were jived
he wanted the whole company to sing a
psalm.
The psalm was , sung.
Bigelow then commenced the wedding
process, 'Squire. Longbow,' exclaimed
Bigelow, 'this is your second wife, and
some folks sny'the third, and I hope you
Tool the awful position in which you find
yourself.'
The Squire said 'ho felt easy and re-
signed, he badene inter it lrom respect
to hiq woman who was now no more.'
, You promise to take this 'ere woman,
to eat her, and drink her, and keep her in
things tri wear, as long no you and she
li ves.'
do that very thing,' responded the
Squire,
.And you, on your part,' ooniinued
Bigelow, turning to Aunt Graves, 'premise
& 11113 Yr
4
, r I
~ ,
, ,
~1 L. ~,,,
to behave yourself, and obey the Squire in
ull things?'
Aunt Graves said .she would Provi•
deuce permitting.'
This marriage ceremony, I believe, is
nearly word for word.
l'hon,' said Turtle, 'wheel yourselves
into line, and let's have a dance,' and
drawing out his fiddle, the whole crowd;
in five minutes were tearing down.at a
most furious rate; and when I departed,
at about midnight; the storm was raging
still higher, the , whiskey and hot water
circulated freely, Turtle looked quite ab
stracted about his eyes and his footsteps
were growing more and more uncertain.
Rulliphant face shone like drummond-light
the voices of the females, a little stimula
ted, as noisy and confused as those of lia
ble, and your humble servant,— why, he
walked holm as straight as a gun—of
course he did—and was able to distinguish
a haystack from a meeting house anywhere
along the road.
tiztdhnn.
SALLY MAGUS.
How .fIE AN AGED rHE MEN.
-Well i.ere be ; wake, snakes, the
day's ahr,,Lit.e mi.,. set my eyes
on a good o a e , Irdng , -. things in my day,
but this ftdrio' married business beats ev
ery thing I ever did sou. It goes a head
of Sam Fling, when he wanted to buy one
of my cheese to make a grindstun.—
When I had a husband—Devil's Whis
kers t—if he only said beans to me,•l made
him jump round like a stump-tail cow in
flytime.
''But there's.Alrs. Fletcher, she's three
parts a natural born fool, and t'other part
is as soft as boiled cabbage. A woman
that don't stand up for her rights is a dis
grace to my sect, Ilow any man should
ever want to marry such a molasses candy
critter as she is one of the secrets of lis-
Soliie - 66vAr sibt3d - le 1 11 is u dkr - FO ' rTh l e
looks as if she'd break in two if she tried
to lift a pot of potatoes. I suppose her
fingers were made to play the pianne.
"Now, 4'4 my notion, when a woman
gives a man her hand, it ought to be big
enough to hold her heart at the same time.
Such a hand as mine is worth giving, for
I can atop a bung bole with my thumb and
I've done it too.
went into Fletcher's this morning
and true as I'm a virtuous woman, he was
'busing on her like a dog-for lending his
receipt book to Miss Brown, who's fond of
reiding. 1 'spas° he did*tit km for the
receipts that was written in the book; but
it was the receipts the was'nt there, and
ought to be, that stuck into his crop. And
Mrs. Fletcher hung down her head, and
looked for all the world like a duck in a
thunder storm. 1 jest put my arms agin
my sides. and looked her man right in the
eye 'till he looked as white as a corpse.—
It's always a way o very body's got when
1 fixes my eyes on 'em. And the t, ay
nay looks white washed his brazen face,
was bettor than slacked line There says
I to Mrs. Fletcher, says I, your husband
had ought to had me for a wife. When
My man was alive, he'd no more think of
saying nothing impudent to me, than he'd
take the black sow by the tail when she's
nursing her pigs ; and you must learn to
stick up to your man jest like a new hair
brush.. •
"I 'never found my debility in mana
ging these he critters, for I always teach
cd 'em what's same for the gander.—
There's tin two ,ways with me; I'm all
of size stub twisted. and made of horse
shoe 'tails., Isis chock lull of grit and
a rough post for :tny one to rub their backs
agin ; any gal like me, what can take a
bag of maul on her shoulder and tote it to
the mill, ought to be able to shake any
man of 'her herft. Some thinks I ought
to get married and two or three has tried
to spark it with tne, but I never listens to
none of their flattery, Though there was
Blarney Sod, come•fiatterfying me like a
tub of new butter. For . I've no notion of
being trampled up in their halters of hy
mens. I likes' liberty, and wants no hal
ters or bridles put.upon me,
"Sam Mooney was shinin' up to mo too;
and then there was Jim Sweetbrcd, the
butcher ; but he didn't find me half enough
for his market. It isn't. everything that
sticks its legs in broadcloth that's going
to curry off a gal of my sperit. My charms
ain't to be had for she bare axing.
'Gettin' married is a serious thing, as
'I telled my old man when I was wallop
in' him With a leg of mutton, because he
took my shoe brutal to clean his teeth with.
Wherever there is a nose, there is a
mouth not far off, and that proves that na
ter has given women her rights as well as
man."
Snake!.
Snakes are much ab . used animals. As
supposed types of the first deceiver, a sort
of religious creed has ever attached to
them, among Christian people; and a few
of the species being really venomous and
others possessing imaginary attributes,
for transcending the actual powers of any
of its class, it is not very wonderful that all
the sons and daughters of Eve ehould in
herit a hearty hatred of snakes.
First--11 bat are the venomous snakes?
In the United States we have the Rattle.
snakes, Copperhead:, and Moccasins. No
others—and, in fact, there are no (per
prilsonous reptiles in our country.
The Moccasin in a southern species;
and as is the great Diamond Rattlesnake—
the worst of the species. The Copper-
head is a very bad snake; fortunately
quite rare now. Kennicott, who is col.
lecting specimens in the region of Jones.
6oro, Cairo, writes that he has just secured
a genuine Copperhead in Illinois. The
Banded Rattlesnake is also found in that
region, and he is not to be despised; as
his bite is truly dangerous, though rarely
fatal to mun.
But the snake about cures for whcs.i
bite sn much has been said in this pnper
is quite a different customer—not a very
agreeable inmate of one's house, (though
we have killed two found in ours,) and
quite sufficiently venomous for the
snake's own purpose. Still, that our prai
rie I?attlesnake has ever caused the death
of a single limmin being—whether 'aloe•
toad" or not—we hare yet to learn.
' And this brings Us to the second ques
tion. Is there any specific antidote for
snake poison Possibly. But who knows
it.? Not we; and wo studied medicine,
practiced medicine, and believed in medi-
cine for nearly thirty years.
Our first experience with snake bites
was in the State of Mississippi, were chil
dren, and especially careless negroes, were
occasionally bitten by the "ground rattle
snake"—a small species of Oratoloph,rus
its not remember a case of bite from
any other species; nor did we know of a
death front snake bite there, or in the
State of Louisiana, where ire tarried sev-
oral years.
Since then, a residence of over twenty
one years in Illinois—with as extensive a
country practice as any other physician—
and in a region and during a time where
and when rattlesnakes abounded, no death
from their bite has ever come to our knowl-
edge. That is, no death of inan, wo
man, or child—a few small animals, usu
ally bitten in the nose, have died ; and
deaths among large animals have been re
ported to us, but we never saw a case.-
01 human subjects, we have treated many
cares, and known many that hail no treat
ment at all, or were treated in all ways;
and the result was always the carne—all
recovered; though some suffered horribly
for a little while.
IVe have but a word to add to this has
ty dissertation on snakes. Let every far
mer bear in mind the whole tribe of ser
pents, aro insect eaters, and the benefac
tors of their human persecutors. Rip up
the stomach of one, and you will find it
stuffed with insects, or enlarged by the
bodies of meadow mice. Except in kil
ling an occasional frog or bird, nearly all
our snakes are as useful to vegetation as
they are harmless to mankind and it is
not only an act of wicked barbarity, but a
species of suicidal folly to destroy them.
For better aid in determining the species
and their dissemination, as urged in tho
circular issued by Robert kennicott, and
show that you, are above the vulgar prej
udice against those persecuted creations of
the Great Author of all animal life, who
made these for our good.—Prairie Far
mer May 21.
Bodily Carriage
Instead of giving all sorts of rules about
turning out your toes and straightening up
the body, and holding the shoulders back,
all of which aro impracticable to many,
because soon forgotten, or a feeling of awk.
wardness and discomfort wl ich procures
a willing omission, all that is necessary to
secure the object is to hold up the head
and move on, letting the shoulders and
toes take care of themselves. Walk with
the chin but slightly above a horizontal
line, or with your eyes directed to things
a little higher than your head. In this
way you walk properly, pleasurably, and
without any fear of restraint of awkward
ness. if any one wishes to be aided in
securing this habitual carriage of body,
accustom yourselves to carry your bands
behind you, one band grasping the oppo•
site wrist. Englishmen are admired the
world over for their full cheats and broad
shoulders, and sturdy frames and manly
VOL. XXII. NO. 24
bearing. This position of body is a favor
' ito with them, in the simple promenade to
a garden or gallery, in Attending ladies
along a crowded street, or in Atanc:ing on
the street or in public worship.
Many persons spend a large portion of
their walking existence in the sitting po
sition. A single rule, well attended to,
in this connection, would be of incalcula
ble value to multitudes. Use chairs with
the old-fashioned straight backs, inclining
back-ward, and sit with the lower portion
of the body close against the back of the
chair at the seat ; any one who tries it will
observe in a looniest a graittful support of
the whole spine. And we see no rearon
why children should not he taught from
the beginning to write, and sew, and knit
in a position requiring the lower portion of
the body and shoulders to touch the buck
of the chair all the time.
A very common position in sitting, ur ,
pecially among men, is with the shot,:
ders against the chair back and the lower
portion of the spine, giving the body the
shape of a half hoop. It is the instantane
ous, instructive and almost universal posi
tion assumed by any consumptive on sir
ring down unless counteracted by an etlkr
of the will; hence parents should regard
such a position in their children with a,,-
prehension, and should rectify it nt once.
The best position after eating a regular
meal is to have the hands behind the back
the head erect, in moderate locomotion,
and in the open air, if the weather is ri
chilly. Half an hour spent in this way a:
ter meals, at least after breakfast and do
uer,'would add health and length of dot
to women in early life and to all sedentary
men It is a thought whiclt merits atter,
tit:in.—Huffs Journal cf Health.
New Mode of Obtaining Provisions .
'rhe following story of Mike Fink, tl,
great head and founder of the tribe of Mi
sissippi flat-boatmen, is given by the Lot.
isville Democrat t •
Passing. slowly down the river, Mika
nhcorvi.d a. werit _lama and beautiful.floct
is want of fresh previsions, but scornin F ,
to buy them, hit upon the following expe.
dient, He noticed there was an eddy near
the shore, and ns it was about dusk, le•
landed his boat in the eddy, and tied her
fast. In his cargo there were sonic blad
ders of Scotch snuff. Mike opened one of
these, and taking oat a handful of the con
tents, went ashore, and cateislng five or six
of the sheep, rubbed their faces very thor
oughly with the snuff. He then returned
to his boat, and sent one of his men in a
great hurry to the sheep owner's to tell him
that "he had better come down and see
what was the matter with his sheep."
Upon coming down hastily in answer to
Mike's summons, the gentleman saw a por
lion of his flock very singularly affected—
leaping bleating, rubbing their noses on the
ground, and against each °diet, and per
forming all manner of undignified and un
sheeplike antics. The gentleman was
sorely puzzled, and demanded if he knew
what was the matter with the sheep ?
'You don't know ?' answered Mike, ve-
ry seriously.
do not,' replied the gentleman
'Did you ever hear of the black nuir
rain?' asked Mike, in a confidential whin
per.
said the sheep•owner, in a tern
fled tone.
'Well, that's it,' said Mike. 'All the
sheep up the river's got it dreadful. Dyin'
like rotten dogs—hundreds a day.'
'You don't say so,' answered the victin,
'and is there no cure for it ?'
.Only one, as I knows on,' was the re.
ply. 'You see the murraiu's dreadful
catchin', and if you don't •git them away
as is got it, they'll kill the whole flock:
Better shool 'em right off ; they hare to
die, anyway.'
'But no man could single out the infec
ted sheep and shoot them from among the
flock,' aaid the gentleman. .
'My name's Mike Fink,' was tha curt
reply ;and it was answer enough.
The gentleman begged Mike to shoot
the infected sheep and throw ;hem into the
river. This was exactly what Mike wan
ted, but he pretended to resist.
'lt mought be a mistake,' he said, 'they
will maybe git well. He didn't like to
shoot so many sheep on his own say so.
He'd better go and ask some of the neigh
bors of it was the murrain, intro 'nuf,'
The gentleman insisted, and Mike mo
destly resisted, until finally he was prom
ised a couple of gallons of old peach bran
dy if he would comply. His scruples, fi
nally overcome, Mike shot the sheep,
threw them into the eddy, and got the
brandy. After dark 'be men jumped it:
the water. hauled the sheep aboa'rd, and,
by daylight had them packed away, and
seerl‘ gliding merrily down the stream.