'ZL CI Oar guilt Cate. LIVE AND CORRESPONDENCE' OF THEO DORE PARKER. By John Weiss. in t w o Volumes. Pp. 478 and 630. 1804.- New- York: D. 'Appleton and Company. Pitts burgh : Robert S. Davis. Theodore Parker was no ordinary man. Not withstanding the unfavorable oireumstances of his youth, by perseverence and unremitting in dustry he was at length enabled to graduate with credit at Harvard University. Afterwards, while engaged as a school teacher, .hemade great progress in the acquisition of languages, and in reading history and philosophy. From this lie went to the Divinity School at Oambridge, where • some of the most distinguished Unitarian minis -.terb, of the generation , new almost.pasied away, were among hie contemporaries. But soon after his entrance upon the•minietry, his views end doctrines proved him even -more radical and averse to all evangelical religion than the great body of Socinians in this country. Mr. Parker Was au intense advocate of human freedom, and Iry many reforms he bore a con spicuoustpart. .Butldte was the bitter enemy of all evangelical religibn. The Church was an oh jtet of attack whenever occasion offered, and he took great delight in shaking the confidence of men with regard to the Divine origin and author . ity or the Bible. Indeed, his great life-work was to inculcate the superiority of reason to revela ':tion, and to turn men away from the doctrine of ialvallon threugh faith in Jesus Christ. ' The ,two volumes now before us are most pain fel evidences of the folly which had taken pos session of his mind, and which led him to reject the wisdom of God, anti to teach others "to du likewise. His biographer is of like belief, or rather unbelief, with hiinself, and permits no op brtunity to pass without casting reproach upon . thetz Church and orthodox Christianity. THE GREAT CONSUMMATION, THE MIL . LERMA'. REST; or, THE WORLD As IT WILL an. By the Rey. John Cumming, D.D., F. 1. S. E. Pp. 295. 1864, New-York ; Carleton. Pittabirgh: Henry Miner. The admirers of Dr.. Cumming have here ano ther treat. His learning is 'not extraordinary. His arithmetic and philosophy are often at fault. Ills exegesis is by no means reliable. And he is unable to perceive the difference between inter preting prophesy and prophesying. But still Dr. Cumming is earnest, evangelical, and interest ing. His pulpit efforts never fail to draw crowds, and his books have multitudes of renders. And. this volume will not fail to ,be read'. In it he speaks of the probabilities ,of the near approach of the end with a deep and solemn earnestness, dad always so as to apply the important injunc tion, "Be ye therefore ready." Its perusal will benefit both the hearts and heads of even those who do not for a moment adopt the Millennarian theory. Whilst the adherents of this system will consider it a sumptuous, tender, and loving feast. THE PROPHET OF .FIRE; or, THE Lisp. AND Tinge OF Er.tsen, with their Lessons. By T. R. Made, D. D. Pp. 3 61. 1864. • New- York: Robert Carter 4. Bros. Pittsburgh : Robert S. Davis. In the life•aud times of Elijah, Dr. Maoduff has a theme for which his vivid cone eptions and clear and Impaisioned style are we 11 adapted ; and he has produced a volume that will be ex tensively road and greatly admired. We can commend it co rdially to every Christian house hold. FALSELY ACCUSED ; or, CHRISTIAN CON- Qinsts. By A. L. 0. E. Pp. 176. 1864. New-York: .Robert Carter s t Bros. Pitts burgh : R. S. Davis. Fors book to have been written by A. L. 0. E., is a sufficient recommendation. THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY for January is an admirable number of a magazine whose high rank is admitted throughout the world. For sale by Henry Miner. HARPER'S MAGAZINE for February is an excellent number. Sometimes this magazine falls a little below the high standard set for itself % but this is seldom. The great 'wonder is, how the editor has managed for so , many years to secure contents.so varied and of such merito rious character. For sale in Pittsburgh by Reny Afiner and also by John P. Hunt. GODEY'S LADY'S BOOK for February is a welcome visitant to the family circle. For sale by Miner. THE LADY'S FRIEND. A Monthly Magazine of Literature and Fashion. Edited by Afro. Henry Peterson. aerms, $2.00 a year. Pub lished in Philadelphia. For sale in Pittsburgh by Henry Miner. This is the second number of a -new monthly which promises to be a general favorite with the BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE for January is on our table; and we always like to get our eyes on its Pages. True, ".Old iViaga" does not like this gountry,,and would rejoice at the overthrow of republican institutions ; but its literature is of a high order, and its fulminations do us no harm. " Blackwood" often provokes us, and sometimes makes us mad ; but still we would not like to do without it, any of the reviews re published in this country. The five in question are: Btacktoood's Magazine, the London Quarterly, aud 'the Edinburgh, Westminster , and North British Reviews, which represent—the first, the Tory ele ment in English* polities; the second, the Con servative; the third, the Whig; the fourth,' the Liberal, and the fifth, the opinions of the Free Church. "Blackwood" and the four Reviews, are re published by Leonard Scott Co., 38 Walker Street, New-York, at $lO per annum. Artsillt gtakg. " Good at a Bargain?. This was the praise which , Mr. Hallett oftenest bestowed on his el.dest and favorite son. When he first wore jackets, Ned proved himself an adept in small trades, swapping off his worn-out and damaged toys for the better ones of his, playmates. Before h 3 was tea years old, he had changed knives , a half dozen times or more, making a good bargain each time, until he was the owner of a double-bladed, pearl handled one, of the best make, instead of the broken jack-knife, bought with his school dinner, with which he had begun the knife business. Of 'bonnie, some persons suffered loss for his' gain, but this, be professed to think, was nothing to him. " Look out for number one," was Isis motto. If he had evetheard the - command, " Thou shalt love thy neigh bor-as thyself," he paid no attention to it. His compassion was never moved by the pain and regretof his victims, those whom he had duped; and when they plead with him for redress, he coolly claimed that he had made a fair bargain—that they had eyes and ears, and could lookout for themselves as well as he for himself. He tricked a poor little fellow out ,of a silver pen oil-ease, which he had received fpr a birth-day -present, by fascinating him with a whistle of trilling value. When the first charm of the whistle was gone, kid the tender .birth-day remembrances connected with the pencil had come back to the vie timized child, he- urged Ned to receive again his whistle, and restore him his pen oil. He added inducements, but Ned was not to be moved. He had the beat of the bargain, and he kept it. In similar ways, he obtained a wealth 'of boys' treasures, to the admiration of his companions, and his own great delight. But wag he happy r .Surely not. Has God made the soul to be satisfied with knives, pencil-cases, balls, and tops ? Can a boy be' happy When he is fall of sglfishness; meanness, deception, and unkindness P He may laugh, he may sing, he may talk large ly, and walk Rroudly, but 'he.must be wretched. ` , ' ` ie - 7~ltaaxsria no peace, saith my God,-to the wicked." Ned was once sent by his father to buy hinifielf 'a pair of shoes. He was to buy such as are usually s sold for ti dollar and a half. With his habitual acuteness, he ob tained the promise that, in case he could buy them for less; he Should have the sur plus money. -"At the • shoe-store he found such shoat; as be wanted, and tried them on; but complained - that they did - not fit. lie tried pair after pair, with the same complaint. At last he found. some for , which he thought he could make a good bargain, since one of them had •a defect in the leather in a place where neither strain nor wear could come. He tried them on, pronounced them a perfect fit, examined them, dwelt upon the flaw, condemned them, and flung them aside. •••• He tried other shoes, but none of them suited him. The salesman recommended several pairs; but no—they pinched him, Ned said, he could not endure them. At last he pretended to be discouraged, and took, up the defective` pair,, declaring them the only pair that fitted him, and ex pressing his deep regret that they were not perfect. The salesman examined them, and pronoun Ced the defect unimportant. Ned reexamined, complained, and regreted again. The salesman growingweary, of fered them at a reduced price. Ned offered a still lower price, tried the shoes agiin, threw them from him, and rose to leave the store. The salesman, unwilling to lose a cus tomer, wrapped up the shoes and handed them-to him, saying, " There, take them at your own price. Ned took them, and left the store, great ly pleased with, his cunning, and its' suc cess, triumphant. He had saved a quarter of a dollar for himself. He had haggled, deceived, had been mean, had been false, for a quarter of a dollar, and he was satis fied! Are gdod behavior, manliness, jus tice, honesty, worth no more ? What Will any one sell his truth, his honor, his good conscience, for money Ned sold his for twentivive cents, well pleased with the bargain. - " What do you think of that ?" he said' to his father, as he boastfully exhibited his purchase, and the silver he had retained. " You always were good at a bargain, Ned," was'his father's complacent answer. "I could n't have done as well. These shoes are well worth a dollar and a halt." But he did not tell Ned that he ought to have paid the full price for them; he had . never taught him that every man should have a fair equi.valent for his. property. On the contrary, he bad encouraged him in taking advantage of others, by praising his tricks in trade ; commending him as "good' at a bargain." Grown to manhood, Ned Hallett still cul tivated and practiced, his sharpness, and for a time with success. But he became known, and people were suspicious and watchful, and gave him few opportunities to 'make his good bargains. - At last his skill and cunning were em ployed in an insurance fraild, which was discoveredLnd led to his conviction and imprisonmat His father was an anxious liAerter at his trial, but no one could think that he had any satisfaction in the sharp ness then developed. When the shamnful and dread sentence of guilt was pronounced, he covered his face with his hands. He could not look ripen the son whom he had helped to ruin, whom he had encouraged in his first steps toward crime. It was a heart-sickening scene when fa ther and son first met in the narrow prison cell Each looked at the other with re proach. Each blamed the other for the pain and shame he suffered. "This is a bad bargain, Ned," said the old man, weakly. f"tYou've ruined us all." " Ruined you Who ruined me 7" ex claimed the prisoner, in a tone that stung the old man to the heart. "I Nies ruined when you called me ' good at a bargain,' instead of dishonest ; when you praised my trickery, instead of punishing it. 4 Good at a bargain,' when for knives-and pencil cases I must pay in prison walls, convict labor, and a felon's name ! Call you a man good at a bargain,' when he sells even his soul for a bauble ? for a piece of gold?" Congregationalist. Thou Shalt Not Covet. There was once a nobleman,in Italy, who was going to be married. Great prepara tions were made for the wedding feast. Everything necessary for the' occasion had been probnred, except some fish, of which. the Italians are very fond. But the sea had been so rough for many days that the fishermen in the neighborhood had been quite unsuccessful. The day before the wedding was to take place, however, a fish erman came along who had a fine, large tuft:tot for sale. He knocked at the gate of the nobleman's residence, and inquired if they wanted any fish. The porter who kept the gate happened to be a very covet ous man. He was ready to take advantage of every.opportunity to get a little money, whether the way of getting it was right or wrong. He told the fisherman that they wanted a fish very much in his m'aster's house, and, as it was fOr a wedding feast, they would be willing to pay a good- price for it. But he said he would :not let the man in unless he would promise to give him one half of what he got for it. The fisherman thought this' was so -utr-' just that, at first, he refused to do' it. Bat finding he could not get in on any other: terms, he consented. As. he went in, how-3 ever, he made up his mind to teach the porter a lesson that he would not scion forget. He was ushered into the, presence of the nobleman, who was so delighted to see so fine a fish that he offered , to give the man any price he might ask fn it. You will think, perhaps, I am naming a strange price," said the fisherman, "when I tell you that a hundred lashes, laid on my bare back, is the price of my fish, and I will not take anything else for it." The nobleman was greatly surprised. He thought the man ivas joking, and tried to reason him out of his strange notion. But find ing the fisherman resolute in his demand, he said: " Well, well, the poor fellow is certain ly crazy. We must have' the fish, how ever. Give him his price, and let him be paid- in my presence; but lay it on very lightly!' As .soon as fifty lashes had been given him, he cried, "Hold I hold I I have a partner in this business, and he must haire his share of the price of the fish." " What I" exclaimed the nobleman, is it possible that there are two each 'mad fellows in the world ? Who is your part ner, and he shall be sent for at once ?" " You need not go very far for him, said thu fishepnan ; "you will find him at your gate, in the shape of your own porter, who would..pot let me in until I prom ised he should receive half of what I got for my turbot." " Oh I oh !" said the nobleman; " bring him in instantly. Let him have - his share, by all means; and lay it on soundly." The porter received his share of ,the prise asked for- the' fish. Then he was im mediately discharged, while the fuiherman PRESBYTERIAN BANNER.--WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 1864. 'was amply rewarded. :The porter lost his character and his situation. 1! le certainly found covetousness injurious. It injured his character. One of the literary men of England, who has outgrown many of the religious influ ences of his childhood, gives the following touching sketch the impression made on him by the habit of, prayer taught at his . mother's knee • " Very - singular and very pleasingto ine is the remembrance of that simple piety of childhood, of that prayer which was said so punctually, night and morning, kneeling by the bedside. What did I think of? What image did I bring before my mind as. I repeated my learnt petition With such scrupulous fidelity ? Did I see some ven erable form bending down to listen ?.. -Did he cease to look and listen when I had said it all ? Half prayer, half lesson, how diffi cult it is now to.summon, it:back agaidi But this I know, that the bedside where I knelt in this morning and evening -devo tion, became sacred to• me as au altar:. I smile as I recall the innocent superstition that•grevi up in me that the prayer must be said -kneeling just there: If, some, cold Winter's night, I had crept into bed, think ing to repeat the petition from the warm nest itself—it would not do—it was felt in this court of conscience ,to be "an, insuffi eient performance ;" there was no sleep to be had till I had risen, and, bed-gowried as I was, kneeled at . the accustomedplace, and said it all, over again from the beginning to the end. To this day I never seethe little, clean, white bed in which a child-is`to, sleep, but I see also the figure of ; . a child kneeling at its Side. And I for a moment am that child- No high altar in the most sumptuous church in Christendom could prompt my knee to bend like that suoir white coverlet, tucked in for a child's slum ber." There is a pretty little saying, which, if not very common, is, I am sure, very true; it is this: "If we speak kind words, we shall hear kind echoes." "How,is this, and , what does it_mean..?' I fancy I hear a youthful voice exclaim. Well, now, I will show. you. If I could take you all at once to a deep • valley be tween two hills, or put you in some little nook between lofty mountains, or it I could place you in a boat on the lonely waters of a quiet lake, and then bid you, shout.your name with all your might, you might . it repeated once, twice, aye; and 'se al times, growing fainter and fainter each' time, till it died quite away on :your ear. You might think that only you had spoken, and yet several seethed calling. Surely it is some one'mcicking ; but no. It is only yourself with your own little voice doing it all; so there is no need to be offended. You see what a Wonderful power you have of making yourself heard. This then is the echo. If you were not to speak you would have no echo. God has kindly made all these wonders, and they ought to teach us'a useful lesson, if we would only think' about what we see and hear. Kindness is like a sweet, soft echo; if little children speak loving words to each other, loving - words acme back again to them : and, if they do;kind actions, kind actions come back again. Not long ago I came home from my office at the close of a beautiful, calm day in the early Spring. I took a seat in the yard under a large cherry-tree, and called my little girl, between , five And six years old, to keep me company while I enjoyed the balmy Spring breeze. We sat there till dusk, I in the chair, and she on my knee. A dark cloud, was slowly over spreading the Western,sky. Long,streaks of lightning were running hither- aid thither over its dark, surface. The little girl's eyes soon caught the sight. It was something new to her, " Oh I pa, what is that ?" she exclaimed, pointing to the lightning "It is lightning, my dear," said I. " Well, what makes it ?" she said. told her that she Was too little tounder stand it, and that when she got larger I would explain all to her. "Oh I" she ex claimed, her eyes all aglow with the. con ception, " I know what makes it—thy are rubbing matches up there to light the stars." Many, a time she had seen me, at dusk, rub a match on the late, dark mantle piece, leaving a long, bright, but quickly vanishing streak in its course, to light the cal:tab:3.or lamp. ' Many persons entertain the' most erro neous notions respecting the character of science. The,' think and speak of it as if it were some mysterious intellectial'infile ty, revealed to the few ,and denied to, ,the many. Sach ideas may have come to from...the olden times when all men believed sincerely in AnYsterious powers communi cated throughj.ncantailons and charms by deities and spirits who had power over . " the' earth, the water, 'the air 'and fine . 1 1 1 .. he ancient alchemists and- - .astrologers kept what they called " science" secret, as semething . too sacred to be communicated .to.the mass of _men ; henee. that' tanght'a vorite disciples only. Many of these old plodders in the paths of science were -sin cere in their peculiar views, butrie mist be admitted that too many of them employed secret discoveries in chemistry for the pur pose of astounding their unlearned fellow- men bytheir curious experiments, in order to obtain power over them. Astronoiny also, such as a superior knowledge 'of eclipses and the movements of the heavenly bodies, was employed, in a Bert of quack manner to obtain power by foretelling events. Many of theie Imposters Were very like the learned Irish , prophet set forth in Hibernian verse, who knew' every event before it happened after it took place. Science simply: means knowledge, of any subject—its_ nature, and:;, operation ; and whoever knows must 'of "S"l4 . branch of knowledge,and can apply it .14' ?best manner, is the o- lost scientific in • that branch. Knowledge means truth, as there k can be 'no noivledge based . * upon fictin. A m an,mhowever, may perform a. mechani cal or hemical operation in:a very superior manner and yet not be scientific., A parrot can Speak, but a parrot- is not 'a linguist, nor has it any knowledge of the science of language. A- man,-tobc scletific, should know- "'theWhy and theviheMbre of the operations he performs." ;:Mathematics is a science, but great powers of calculation afford`ne evidence of scientific acquisition. Some 'not Mueli 'above reach of idiocy, have been great calenla tors. Yei`matheinaties as n science re quires a high grade of intelleet and great' persistency' of mental effort to master. Science may be said to be a collection of Childhood's Prayer. Kind Echoes. A Child's Idea. citittifit. The Nature of Science. facts and experience accurately arranged and properly understood. Chemistry, for example, is an art and a science, Vicause it is a ;:olleation Of the results *of careful experiments. Geology is simply . a- collec tion of facts carefully arranged. A theory is not a science; it is simply the explana tion of phenomena. Every science has, according to Max Muller, first an empirical stage, in which facts are gathered and ana lyzed. After this they are classified or ar ranged, and according to the inductive Method, theory explains the purpose or plan of thewhole.—,Sc. American. The Action of the Sun Every mechanical action on the earth's surface, every manifestation of power, or ganic or inorganic, vital and physical, is produced by the sun. His warmth keeps the sea liquid and the atmosphere - a gas, and all the storms which ~ agitate both are - blown by the, mechanical force of the sun. He lifts the river and the glaciers up the mountains, and thus the cataract and the avalanche shoot with. an energy derived immediately from him. Thunder and lightning are also his transmuted strength. Every fire that buts and every flame that glows dispenses Jig t and heat which orig inally helonged to the sun. In these days, the .nels of battle is fa miller to us, but every shock and every Charge is an application or misapplication of the ineChanical force of the - sun. He blows the trumpet, he urges the projectile, he bursts the bomb I And, remember, this is not poetry, but rigid mechanical truth. He'rears, as I have said the'whele vegeta ble world, and through :it, the .animal ; the lilies of the foci are his workmanship, th,t verdue of the meadows, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. He forms the music, he urges the bleed, he,builds the brain. His fleetness is in,the lion's foot; he springs in the panther, he soars in the eagle, he slides in the snake. He builds the forest and hews, it dawn—the power which raises the tree and wields the axe being the Same. The clover sprouts and. blossoms, and the scythe of the mower swings by the same force. The sun -digs the ore from our mines, he rolls the iron, he rivets the plates, he hoilsthe water, he draws:the; train. He not only. irovis the cotton, but he spins the fibre and weaves the web. There is not a hammer raised, a wheel turned, or a shuttle thrown, that is not raised and turned And throiin by the sun. His energy is 'poured forth into space, hut our world is a halting place • where his energy is.conditioned: Here-the Protein works his spells.—Heat Considered as a Mode of Motion by Prof: Tyndall., isdantons. Preservation of Human Bodies. Awing the most striking curiosities of Derbyshire may be reckoned the moors of Hope parish.= They afford an extraordina ry instance of the preservation of human bodies interred in them. In the year 1674 a grazier and his female servant in crossing these r moors, were lost in the snow, with which they- were covered. from: January to May, when on 'beieg found, the coroner or : dered them to be'buried on the spoL Af ter a lapse of twenty-nine years, on the around'being opened, they were in no way changed, the color of the skin_ being fair and natural; and the - flesh as - soft as that of persons newly dead.. For twenty succeed ing years tliey were occasionally exposed as a spectacle,-but carefully covered after be ing viewed-. They • lay at the depth of about three feet, in a moist soil, or moss. The minister of. Hope parish was present in 1716, forty-two years after the accident, at a particular inspection of these bodies. On the stockings being drawn off, the man's legs, which had not been uncovered before, were quite fair; the flesh, when pressed by the finger, _pitted a little, and the joints played freely without the least stiffness. Intercession or the spirit. When the Spirit maketh intercession for us, it is not by any direct supplication from himself to God, ,the Father, on behalf of any one individual ; but by, pouring on that iudividual-the Spirit of prayer and suppli-- cation: The' man whom he prays for is, in fact, the organ -of his prayer: The prayer passes as it were, from the Spirit through him who is the object of it. . Thcsegroinings of the Spirit of, God, 'Which cannot be uttered, are those unutter able desires wherewith the heart iicharged and which can ouly find vent in the ardent, but, unspeakable . breathings of the one who first feels his need, and longs to be freed from it; who hath a strong - and general ap petency after -righteousness, and yet can_ only sigh it forth in ejaculations of intense earnestness. TheSe are called oTOanings of the Spirit of God, because,it is, in , fact, He,who awa kened them in'the spirit of man: When He intercedes for a believer, the believer's own heart is the channel through which thedntercession finds its way to..the throne of grace.- Chalmers.. Do n'tiwcar. ..S.Aurbulent Seotchman was arrested the other day, 'inOne of, our large cities, for some misdemeanor, and escorted by the po lice to the station-house. Though a large, powerful`man, he could not resist the force of the law, but.his unbridled passion found expression in, the most furiouti outburst.of abusive and profane language. It was fear ful to hear the terrible oaths and _curses that in one `continuous stream from his mouth as he was carried through the streets. Even the rough boys, who were drawn by the uproar and. can endure al mosttanything of profanity without.shrink ing, seemed to qstand appalled, or were forced to, retire. He never stopped a mo rnent:tuitil long after he' had been properly secured"ihiriellabe - of eonfrisement,"-and then all at once he ceased. The astonished bystanders turned to' .see what could have produced so instantaneous a change. In the doorway stood a delicate, fair-haired little -girl of: eight years, holding in her hand:the well-filled dinner pail whieh she had 'been commissioned to carry to hits place 'of work, and which, on hearing what had befallen herfather, she had consider ately brought...tO,the station-house. Lift ! : ing upher tiny face to the hard features of the prisoner, without, a word of wonder or'reproach at finding her parent in-so un pleasant a:condition, she said, in the sweet est. of accents, • " I haVe bropght you your 'dinner, father. Shell. I sing while you are eating ?" " No,. child go home this is no place for you,' said the father, in a tone so subdue that, ,one would. searcely have believed it , „ , proceeded from the sa me, lips out of which but a moment before had poured such fierce, bitter:;impreeations. "'Go hemS,.'" - MftrY ) and' when I tnorneback, you shall Sing. l ', " What mad; you hold up your swearing so'snildenly Plaiked. Some one afterwards of the Prisoner:`,. " I can't swear - before that child," was the reply. 4 1 She goes to one of them Mis sion schools and learns the hymns, and sings 'em at home just like an angel. I might just as well swear before an angel as before her." The Fox. Perhaps of all our untamed quadrupeds, the fox has obtained the widest and most familiar reputation from the time of Pilpay and iEsop. to the present day. His recent tracks still give variety to a 'Winter's walk. I tread in the steps of the fox that has gone before me by some hours, or which perhaps I have started, with such a tiptoe of expectation, as if I were' on the trail of the spirit itself which resides in the wood, and expected soon to catch it in its lair. I am curious to know what has determined its graceful curvatures, and hove surely they were coincident with the fluctuations of some mind. I know wl:dch way a mind= wended, what horizon it faced, by the set ting of these tracks, and whether it moved slowly or rapidly, by their greater or less intervals and distinctness; for the swiftest step;leives.yet a lasting trace. Sometimes you will see the trails ..of many together, and where they have gambolled and gone through a -hundred &oil:diens, which testify to X sinaular listlessness and leisure in nature.- When I see a fox run across the pond on the snow, with the carelessness of freedom, or at intervals trace his caurse in the sun shine' along the ridge of a hill, I give up to him sun and earth as to their true pro prietor. He does not go in-ihe sun, but it seems to follow him, and There is a vis ible sympathy between him and it. Some times, when. the snow lies light, and but five or six inches deep, you may give chase and come up with one on foot. In such a chase he will show a remarkable presence of mind, choosing onlysthe safest direction, though he may lose ground by it. Not withstanding his fright, he will take no step which is not beautiful. His pace is a sort of leopard canter as if he were in no wise impeded by the snow, but 'were bus banding his strength all the while. When the ground is uneven, tAe course is a series of graceful curves, conforming to the shape of the surface. He runs as though -there were not a bone in his back, ocettasionatly dropping his muzzle to the ground for a rod or two, then tossing his head aloft, when satisfied of his course. When he comes to a declivity, he will put his fore feet together, and slide swiftly down, shoving the snow , before him. He treads so softly that you would hardly hear it from any nearness, and yet with such expression that it would not be quite, inaudible at any distance.--th,oreau. : 4#:*,:.,:0 f 40.1t:;:: : ,*(' Hints on Transplanting, &o. We had intended to give our readUrs an original contribution this, week, but we ac cidentally laid our hands on the following, from Eilvianger & Barry's Fruit Garden, and finding it so appropriate for the season, we give it the preference, and invite spe cial attention to it. - Ist. .THE PREPARATION OF THE SOIL.— For Fruit Trees the soil should "be dry, either naturally, or made so: by thorough drainage, as they will not live or thrive on a soil constantly saturated with stagnant moisture. It should also be well prepared by twice plowing, at least, beforehand, using the subsoil plow after the common one, at the second plowing. On newifresh lands, manuring will be unnecessary; but on lands exhausted by,oropping, fertilizers must - be applied, either. by turning in heavy crops of clover, or well decomposed manure or compost. To ensure a good growth' of Fruit Trees, land `shouldbe in - as good condition as for a crop of wheat, corn, or, potatoes. _ 2d. THE PREPARATION OP THE TREES —ln regard to this important operation„, there are more fatal errors committed than on any other. As a general thing, trees are placed in the ground precisely as they are sent from the Niirsery.- In removing Et tree, no matter how carefully it may- be 'done, a portion of the roots are broken and destroyed, and consequently the balance thatgexisted in the structure 'of the tree is deranged. This must be restored by a proper pruning, adapted to the size, form' and condition of the tree as follows : Standard Orchard Trees.—These, as sent from the Nursery, vary freak, five to eight feet •: in height, with naked stems or trunks, and a 'number of branches at the top forming a head. These branches should be all, cut'back to within three or four buds of their base. This lessens the demand upon the,Toots, and enables the re maining buds to push with vigor. In the ease'f older trees bf extra:size, the prun ing must be in proportion, as a general thing, it will be safe to shorten all the pre- V/0118 year's shoots to three or four buds at their base, and where - the 'branches are very numerous, some may be cut out entirely. Dwarf Standard Trees and 'Dwarf Bushes—Must be...pruned as recommended, for 'standards, aiming at producing a round, well-proportioned head, with the main branches regularly distributed and far enough apart to, admit air freely to all 3d. PLANTII9.—Dig holes in- the - first. - place, large enough to admit the roots of: the tree to spread out in their natural posi tion.- Then, having the tree. pruned as above directed, let one person -hold Win an upright position, and the other shovel in the earth, carefully putting the finest and the best from the surface ;in. among the roots, filling every interstice, and bringing every-root in contact with the soil. When - thnearth is nearly filled in - , a pail of water may s he ihrown aettle,and *ash in the earth around the roots; then fill in: the re mainder, and tread gently with the foot. The use of water is seldom necessary, 'ex cept in dry weather; early in Fall or late in Spring 'Guard against planting too deep-;. ; the trees, after the ground settles, should stand in this 'respect as they did' in the Nursery. Trees on dwarf stocks should stand so that all the stock be under the ground, and no'more. In very dry, grav elly ground, the, holes-should-be dug twice the usual size and-depth, and filled in with good:loamy soil. s 4th. STAKING.-"If trees are tall ,and much expose,d to winds, a stake should.-be planted with thntree, to which it should-be tied-in such a manner - as 'to-avoid chafing. A piece of matting or - cloth may be put be tween the tree and'fice stake. sth. MoLoraNG.—When the tree- is planted, throw around it 'as far as the roots extend, and - a fpot,beyond, five to six inches of rough manure 'or. litter, thislis particularly necessary in dry ground, and is highly advantageous everywhere, both in Spring-and Pall-planting. It prevents the ground front baking or cracking, and maintains egnal temperature. about :the root's. 6th. AFTER OULTURE.—The grass should not be allowed to grow around young trees after being planted, as it stunts their growth and utterly ruins them. The ground should be kept clean and loose around them, until at least they are of bear ing size.. The Profit of Keeping Cows. In all our observation, we never knew a farmer who set out to stock his farm with first-rate milch-stock, that did not succeed. With proper care in selecting, every herd of tows in the country may average, on good feed, 500 gallons of milk each per annum. Isolated cases of cows that give 1;000 gallons are not very rare. In a let ter recently received from. Mr. A. Niles, of Mass., he says : (..1 became convinced, years ago, that it wPs poor economy for a farmer to keep -poor cows. I have been .trying for a length of time to practice ac cording to my theOry, by disposing of all ordinary cows, and supplying their places with others, a;ul. I am now quite satisfied with my course. From four cows I have made and sold_ since April Ist, 700 . lbs. of butter, at 20 cents per lb., and raised in part upon the milk of the same cows, four fine' heifer calves, from good stock on both sides. I call the calves worth at least $lO each, and the milk we gave to the hogs worth at least as much as the keeping of the calves besides the milk. One of the cows is now about calving, and I hope to make from her, before the lst of April -next, 100 lbs. more of butter, making in all 800 lbs. daring the year, from four coifs— being*2oo lbs. from each cow. Calling the calves, as above, $lO each, $4O; butter, 800 lbs. 20 cents per lb., $160; total; 7 8200 or $5O each. Their keeping in Summer was common pasture.; in the month of April, hay, with one _feed of iningel wurzels. Other farmers may do better with better feed." Open Heads for Frait Trees Most orchard= trees have their heads alto gether too crowded; the limbs are allowed to fill up-the 'centre so that light and air are excluded; and, the full development and maturity of the fruit prevented. A dis tin.uished pomologist in giving directions for priming an orchard, advised to leave room enough in the centre of the tree for a barrel into which to pick the apples; and he was not far from right. It requiresbut little trouble to get .a tree into good shape, if it,is-attended to while young, when the knife will do the work, which, if neglected, will necessitate the use of the sai and chisel. - Where large scars are to be made, it is always best to defer pruning until Sumner; though cutting with the knife may be done after the severity of the Win ter has passed. Trees should be started with a view to an open and well balanced head; but where this has been neglected, they should• be made as nearly right as possible before they .get large. VY herever a branch will crowd another if allowed to grow, or will unduly fill up the ,centre of the tree, it should be removed. A timely use of the knife in• early Spring, and an occasional Summer pinching of a shoot disposed to grow where a liinb is not need ed, will keep the top open. It is some times necessary in other to : give the tree a proper balance, to induce , a branch to :pro long itself more than it naturally' would; this can be done by removing the side shoots upon it. Facts for Farmers. If "you invest ,money in tools, and. then leave them exposed to the weather, it is the same as= loaning money to a spendthrift without security—a dead loss in both cases: If you invest money in books, and never read them, it is the same as putting your money into a bank, but never drawing either principal orint i prest. If you invest your 'money in choke fruits, and do not guard and give-them. a chance to grow and preve their value, it is the same as putting a good hind into the field with poor tools to work with. If jou invest your money in a goodfarm, and do not cultivate it well, it ifr the- same as marrying' a good -wife and So- abusing and enslaving her as'to ernsh..her energies' and ,to break her heart. Cure for Foot Rot or Fouls in Cattle and Sheep.—Take one ounce of blue vitriol pul verized fine and - add four table-spoonfuls of spirits turpentine and vinegar (each) in a glop vial with a large mouth so as to admit a small swab. Wash and clean the feet affected, with soap suds, and apply thumix ture. Two or three times will affect a cure. Farmers can manage almost any ox or cow so as to handle the feet, as they would a horse, by using a nose' snap, which can be found in any agricultnral store, cag ing only a few cents. Every farmer ought to haVe one of these to Manage stubborn animals. Slip it into the nose, and with one hand hold of it, the animal can be held abnOst unmovable. Any s person can, then take-up the foot of an ox, or cow, and hold it, to have it washed. This will save_ the trouble of going miles to the black smith's ox frame. Mut to Iterge-ftepers.—A gentleman who has tried the plan successfully for 'five years, communicates, the annexed method of preventing 'unties from , chafing under the collar. lie says he, gete a piece of leather and has >what he terms a false collar made, which' is simply a piece - of 'leather out in such. shape as to lie snugly between 'the shoulders of the, horse and the collar. This fends off all, the friction, as the collar slips and moves on the, leather, and, not on the egulders of :the horse. Chafing is caused by Abe friction,' hence you see the thing is entirely plausi-. hla. Some put-pads or sheepskius under the collar, But these do as much harm as good, for they'augment the heat. A single piece of leather, like that composing the outside of a collar, is sufficient. -