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IT.HI. LAMPKIlf & H. J. ADAMS
( rSOrROTOK* AND rt-BUSHnS.
Wv. SERIES—YOL. Iff., NO. 22. y,
^ ^ ATHENS, .THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1849.
VOLUME XVII. HUMBER 34
4-
frintrli $ijhjf
The Halktrltu.
God help »nd »l; ; «-ld the rootlirrlru,
The atrieVen, Weeding dorre>-
■ e there gu.be*: ’*
/
__ p 0 rich font
Of deep and drotbleu lore!
Tbe aaddett title grief confer*—^
For who ao lone u they.
Upon wboae path a mother 1 * love
Shcda not it* holy tuy l
No voice aa fowl aa her*, eaaaya
To calm the feveriab brain.
O, other longnea may whiaper lore.
In accent* aoft ana mild;
But eoee on earth ao pare aa that
A mother bearaJter child!
Judge hiwllr of the naeC
A weary lot is theirs,'
'And oft the heart the gayest seems,
A load of sorrow bears.
No faithful voice directs their steps,
Or bids them oawan*. press.
" And if they gang, a keunin’ wrong,"
God help the motherless !
And when the sinful and the frail,
The tempted and the tried.
Unspotted one! shall cross thy path,
O, spurn them not aside.
. Them knowrst not hat ihoo hwlst been
. With trials even less—
''And when thy lips would vent reproach,
Think, they ttere motkerUu !
A blessing on the motherless.
Where'er they dwell on earth,
Within the home of childhood,
^ . Or at the stranger’s hearth!
> Bine be the sky above their heads.
> And bright the snn within,
' _ O God. protect the motherless,
l And Keep them free from sin!
bt cbsulks annus.
Dimes aad dalUra! dollars and dimes!
\n gmpty pocket's the worst of crimes!
[fa mail down, give him a thrust—
Trample the beggar into the dust!
Preaumptnooi poverty is quite appalling—
Knock fatmorer! kick him for falling!
If* man is nn, oh! lift him higher!
Tour soul’s lor sale and he’s a buyer—
Dimes and dollars! dollars awl dimes!
An empty pocket’s the worst of crimes!
r, bat a worthy yontli,
ire bail! on a maiden’s troth,
a will break her tows with cat
to claims are thrse-
npty head,
A face well tWed with a broady red,
A soul well trowed in villany’s school—
And Cask—sweet Cash!—he knowrth the r
Dimes and iMaml dollars awl dimes!
An empty pocket’s the worst of crimes!
I know a hold, and an honest man.
Who strives to live nqjke Cbristinn plan.
But poor be i*. and.poor will l*e,
A scorneil and bated wretch is be;
At bom#be meetetka starving wife,
Abroad he leadeth tW leper’s lifis—
. Danes stM dollar*! dollars and dimes!
Ah empty, pocket’stlie worst of crimes!
Ro get ye wealth, no matter bow!
** No nnestionsaskwl” of the rich I trow—
Steal by night, and steal by day,
Tssrn to cant and insult yonr Maker;
Be hvpneritc, liar, knave and Cool,
But don't be poor: remember the rnle:
Dimes awl dollars! dollars and dimvsl
An empty pocket's the worst of crimes!
i",THE SONG AND THE'JgINGER.
, A Thrilling Story.
BT PERCY B.J
■wholly disapproved of his making mu
sic a profession, and wisbedhim to em
ploy his leave of absence in learning
another occupation. His mother so
pressed him, that he saw no resource
but a soldier’s last chance—a retreat.—
For two months "no trace of the.fugitiye
had been seen—two months spent .in
vain efforts to make his chosen career
support him, ami now, doubtless, his
mother had found him out, and had ta-
j ken ibis delicate . way of exposing his
It was in the year 1792, during the
early daj’s of the great French Revolt;?
lion, when a young officer indelicate
health took up his quarter* iqjjthe city
of Marseilles for six month! pffiis leave
of absence. It seemed a strange retire- ^
ment for a young man. fo? in the town ! secrecy and punishing his pride,
he knew no one, and in the depth off “* -
winier Marseilles was cp tempting
residence. The officer. ljre<Liq a gar
ret looking out ©f>r»ri therBmfct, which
had for i*S *°le furniture a harpsichord,
a bed, a table, and a chair. Little but
paper ever entered that apartment,
where food and fuel both were scarce;
and yet the young man generally re
mained in-doors all day assiduously
writing, or rather ddllingsomething up
on paper, an occupation he alternated
with music. .
Thus passed many months. The
young man grew thinner and paler, and
his leave of absence appeared likely to
bring no convalnsencc. But he
Next morning the'young tnaii awoke
with nn appetite unknown to -him of
late. The gene/ous Jbod of, the pre
vious night lmd restored hi! system,
aud brought him to a natural state.—•
Luckily, sufficient wine and bread re
mained to satisfy his craving, and then
he sat down to think. AH his efforts to j stress. The excitable populati
get his music sing, or played, or pub-j Marseilles seemed mad.
lished, had been in vain. Singerfflknew j When
show 3 how the-song had electrified
them. .
M. Dupont frowned, for the air and
the song were not ne,w to him; it was
the “ Song of the army of the Rhine”
he had refused that morning! But
Claodinc proceeds! again the audience
is'hushed in death-like-silence;' while
the musicians, roused, to an nnusi
gree of enthusiasm, played admj
and Claudinc, still singing with
purity, feeling and energy of ht. __
rablei voice, plunged ‘her eyes into eve
ry, comer of the hoiise—in vain. At
each couplet the enthusiasm of lhe pop
ulation became gireaWr*. the anxiety of
the singer intense. Aldenglh, she con
cluded, and never did applause more
be the celebrated gentleman of that) l^UDsiilf lEntbcringS.
name?” j .
“ Why, really, ma’am, no,”—(“ yes,” j calm. Pence, nod Light,
said my vani.y)_‘- my name is jusl «j w,
jou see, 1. Campbell, making her al. That nofteniKnow,cud tlmtsweetnw wo
the time a handsome bow. ! There is a l’eacc that d-
I When all witboi
iv awl ilistrest;
would have you know.
They are the won of toil—
Hie won who reap and sow—
•• Mr. Campbell,” she said, advancing : T ,“^ it , Ligl , tllmt d»rkc.t hour,
a Step, “very proud and happy to be When dangers thicken, nnd wln-n tempe.t* low’r.
honored with this unexpected call. My ! Jj|“| jj a !g Sincid^itenM direSSimj^Hrovcn
husband is only gone to “change.” and j * g * “ Gems of E*gli*k Poetry.
will be so happy to thank you for the j Culture - ©I tlic Oulon.
great pleasure we have had in reading' Religion.—Holdfast, therefore, hv, There is no vegetable, of whose pro-
your most interesting work—take a ' this sheet anchor of happiness—religion. . per culture the Southern people under
chair.” (You will often want it in the times of island so little, as the Onion. What
/nrtnrrs’ Bfpnrtmrat.
TIte Farmer.
Who makes this han-en earth
A parod ; *e of wealth,
ieo silence Was* restored; Claudine j SheT tendered 1
him not, publishers declared him un-j spoke—“ Citoychs and cilyennes !” she just double wl
known, and the public seemed doomed exclaimed, “ this song is both written
never to hear him ; a logical consc- and composed by a young and unknown
quence very injurious to young begin- j rnan, who has in vain sought to put bis
ners in literature, poesy, music, and all, compositions before the public. Eve-
the liberal arts. But he was determin-1 rybody has refuse'll them. For myself,
ed to have one more trial. Having cat-i l thought this the greatest musical effort
handsome and interesting, despite hisjen, he dressed nnd went out in the di-! of modern times ; .undos, such I prac-
snllow hue. Long hair, full beaming | rection of the shop of the Citoyen Du- ! lised it today; nrftk unknown to mana-
eyes that spoke of intelligence, and j pont, a worthy and excellent man, who | ger or author, I and the band prepared
- ........ . .. ~ author
, . bad and good, than a musician could here. Poor arid d&sriai
smijqnnd look of kindness came to him
frocTTHea'tUHaT'ey^s'that he noticed not
even genius, frankness of manner, nil. in his day had published more music,! this surprise." But’.the nutho
prepossessed in his favor, and many a bad and good, than a musician could ; here. Poor arid, despairing,
■ m .Lv—wl “• have played in a life timp. ! home lamenting his - unappreciated ef-
~-T-y- 4 You have something new, then, Ci- ; forts! Let us awake him; let him
nor cared to notice. In fa#t1»e rarely_ toyen ?’ said Dupont after the usual! learn that the generous people of Mar-
went out at night, and then to walk out preliminaries, and after apoligising to a : scilles can understand and feel great
by a booming sea, which made a kind of lady within his office, for leaving her a [ music. Come, let all who have hearts
music he seemed |o ; love. Sometimes, while. * As my time is precious, pray j follow me, nnd chaiMt tirertnjghly song
it is true, he would hangnbout the thc£> play il*at once, and sing it if you will^*.] as w« go.” And Cjydincjkfitcpping
The young man sat. himself at thcl across the orchestra,l&cfed id the pit,
harpsichord which adorned the shop,! andS^areheaded, light dressed as she
and began at once the 4 Song of the Ar- was, rushed towards thejloor, followed
. my of the Rhine.* The music-publish- j by every spectator, -.Vand by the musi-
ways^ examined with care the name of i cr listened with the knowing air of one j cians, who, howeyer^ put on their hats,
the piece and its author, and then walk- j who is not tojie deceived, and shook : and even threw a clojik and a cap
tre doors when operas were about to be
played, and look with longing eye with
in ; he never entered, either his purse
or inclination failed him. But he al-
5»it, Itamnr, fa.
Convincing Evidence.
An Indian was brought before a mag
istrate in a state of considerable insobri
ety, and instead of answering directly to
the questions pul by the justice, merely
muttered out,— 4 Your honor is very wise,
eery wise, very wise,—your honor is
eery wise, I say.**
Being unable to get any other answer
from bin., ho was locked \>p.till the next
when John was brought before
Mbitn, perfectly sober.
r’ * Why.John,* said* the Justice; ‘you
were drunk as a beast last night.
• Drunk !* ejaculated John.
*Yes, drunk as a beast. When I
asked you a question, the only answer
you made was— 4 your honor is very
wise.’
• Did I call your honor wise V\ said
the Indian, with a look of-incredulity.
• Yes,* said the magistrate.
• Then,* replied John, 4 1 must have
been drunk, sure enough.*
* Crov^HLwant to. ax you a conun-
derduni.’ <’
•» Well Julius, succeed, l*s open for
the qucfhum.
“Can you ifell me why the art of self-
3Tcfence am like a ribber at low title ?”
* “No, Julius, I doesn’t see no simil
arity in clt; two subjects, so darfor 1
guvs am up.’*.
*• Wclljtlen, I’ll tell you—Tt is simply
ed away to the seashore to muse
meditate.
Shortly after his arrival in Marseilles,
he visited one after another, all the mu
sic sellers and publishers in the town
with n bundle of manuscripts in.his band;
but his reception was not apparently
very favorable, for he left them all with
a frowning air, and still with his bun
dle of manuscripts. Some had detain
ed him n.long time, as if estim^ingih©
value of the goods he©Brred'fcrshfe ;
but these were no more tempted than
the others to try the saleable character
ol the commodity. The house he lodg
ed in had attached to it a large garden.
Bj permission ol the laudlord, the
young man often selected it for his
evening walks, and despite the cold,
would sometimes sit and inuse in a
rude and faded bower under a wall at
one of the gables. Here he would oc
casionally even sing in a low tone, some
of his own compositions. It happened
once or twice that when he did so, a
female head obtruded from a window
above him, seemed to listen. The
young man at length noticed this.
.• 4 Pardon, lady,’ said he one evening;
perhaps I disturb you V
4 Not at all,’ she replied : 4 1 am fond
of music, very fond ; and the airs you
bum arc new to me. Pray, if not a
rude question, whose are they?’
4 Citoyenne,* he answered, diffidently,
they are my own.*
4 Indeed!’ cried the lady with anima
tion ; and you have never published
them?*
I shall never try—agaia,’ he mur
mured, uttering the last words in a low
and despairing lone, which however
reached the cars of the young woman.
4 Good night, Citoyenne,* said she,
and she closed her window. The com
poser sighed, rose and went out to take
his usual walk by the sea beach; there,
before the grandeur and sublimity of
the ocean, and amid the murmuring of
its blowing to forget the cares
of the world, hi^Bfayty. and his crush
ed visions of glorjrand renown—the*
day ..dream of all superior minds—a
dream far oftener ti punishnietff than a
reward; for of those who sigh for fame,
few indeed arc successful. -
Scarcely had he left the lipase, than
a lady, habited in a cloak and - hood,
entered it r and after a somewhat length
ened conference with his poncicrge, as
cended to his room, and remained there
about an hour. Al the end of that ti
she vanished.' It was midnight when
the composer retnrned. He entered
with difficulty, the Cerberus of the lodge
being asleep, and ascended to his
wretched room. He had left it littered
his head as the composer ended.
‘Rough—crude—but clever. Young
man, you will. I doubt not, do some
thing good 011c cf these days, but al
present I am srfrry to say, your effort
wants finish anti polish’ The singer
rose, and louring, left the shop, despair
al his hearf^wHe had not a sou in the
world ; his rent was in arrear; lie knew
not how to dine that evening, uqltjss, in- «* *»••«*« »'» .»*uumc*^ ...
deed, hi* mnltyer fftnw* ng^inj lA ^ia si<l- shapes tlnccgel ardurys’l
—an aid he was very unwill.ng to re
ceive. His soul iccoiled from it. lor lie
had parted from her in anger. His
This is a most sensible woman, tho’t ‘ most danger, the storms n;i;d tempests of
f, and I dare say her husband is a man ; life. Cherish true religion as precisely
of great taste nnd jienetration. j as you would fly with abhorrence and
. .. 44 Madame,” said I, 44 1 am much flat- i contempt, from superstition nndeuthu-
hearty, more tremendous, more uproa- J tered by so fair a compliment,”—laying siasm. The first is ibe perfection and
rious, greet the voice ofa public song- the emphasis on ‘fair.* 44 1 will wait j glory of human nature; the two last
.. mL- * of j with pleasure; but in the mean time I i the deprivation and disregard of it. ltc-
I think I forgot to pay my subscription.” j member the essence of religion is a
me the book, and I put • heart void of offence towards God and
hat I intended. When j towards man ; not subtile speculative
had I ever so fair an excuse for liberal- j opinions, but an active principle of
ity ? “Indeed,” resumed the lady»srni- j faith.—Earl of Chatham.
ling, “ 1 consider this a most gratifying i
incident; but here comes my husband.” j A Well-Spent Day.—Every day is
“John, dear, this is the celebrated a little life ; and oar whole life is but
Mr, Campbell! j a day repeated. And hence it is, that
44 Indeed !” ! old Jacob numbers his life by days, and
I repeated my bow, and in two or three 1 Moses desiring to be taught this point of
minutes we were as intimate as any holy arithmetic, to number not his years,
three persons could be. j but his days, and these, so as to apply
44 Mr. Campbell,’* said the worthy \ his heart unto wisdom ! Those, tliere-
husband, 44 1 feel greatly honored by ! fore, that dare lose a day, are dange-
tbis visit, accidental though it be.” j rously prodigal, and those that dare
Why, I am often walking this way,” misspend it, dcsjtcrale.
said 1, “and I will drop in now and.
then, just to say how d’ye do.” j Happiness.—There is nothing purer
Delighted, Mr* Campbell, delight- i than honesty—nothing sweeter than
Your work is such a favorite with
my wife there ; only last night we sat
up till one o’clock, reading it.”
“Very kind indeed, very. Have you
the new edition?”
44 No, Mr. Campliell, ours is the fiflst
What! thinks I to myself, fotj
ago; this is gratifying, quit?'
loom in the family. /
“Ob, Mr. Campbell,’jpjOT^he lad
w’hat dangers—what—you must hav<
suffered! Do you think you will evei
make Christians ol them horrible canni
bals?
the excited and generous young song
stress.
Meanwhile the composer’s dreadful re
solve was being carried out. The hor
rid fumes of the charcoal filled the room;
soon they began to consume and exhaust
tho pure air, and the wretched youth
felt all the pangs of coming death —
Hunger, exhaustion, anddespairlcindled
a kind of madoesg; in lift brain ; wild
«hupes donevd arouiv£3jl«r ; fea many
songs seemed sung alu^mer by coarse,
husky voices, that made : tbcir sound a
punishment; and then the blasted at
ther was a Royalist, he was ii Republi-j mosphere oppresssing his chest, dark
can, and she had said bitter things to ening his vision, his room seemed ten-
nt parting. But most of all the j anted by myriads of infernal amide-
oa j find dirty, without light, fire, or food. ...
■r To his surprise a cheerful blaze sent its j great supporter of his theatre. A
composer felt one thing; the world
would never be able to decide if he had j
or had not merit; and this was the bit
terest grief of all.
That day was spent in moody thougth.
The evening came, and no sign again
of his secret friend, whether mother, or
unknown sympathiser. Towards night
the pangs of hunger became intolerable,
and after numerous parleys with him
self, the young man ascended to his
room with a heavy parcel. His eye
was wild, bis cheek pale, bis whole
mien unearthly. As lie passed the door
of his lodge the concierge gave him a
ticket lor the Opera, signed Dupont,
who was co-manager of the theatre.
44 Go yourself,” said the composer in
a low, husky voice, and he went up
stairs.
Having gained ther oom» the uhappy
ami misguided young man sat silent and
motionless *for some hours, until at
length hunger, despair and his dreary
visions bad driven every calm and good
thought from his head, and then he dared
quietly to proceed to carry out his dread
ful and desparatc intent. He closed
carefully the window, stuffed his mat
tress up the chimney, and with paper
slopped every aperture where air could
enter. Then he drew forth from his parcel
charcoal and a burner, and lit it. Thus
had this wretched man determined to
end bis sufferings. He had made
last effort, and, now in this solitary, dis
mal garret, he laid him down to die”;
and (loverly and misery, genius anil
death, were huddled close together. ..
Meanwhile, amid a blaze ol lights the
evening’s amusements hail begun, at the
theatre. A new opera from Paris was
to be played, and the prima donna was
the young* lovely, and worshipped
Claudine, the Jenny Lind of that time
and jflace. The bouse was crowded,
and the Ifrsf *acl succeeding beyorid
all expectation, the audience were in
ecstacy. *
44 She is a jewel!” said M. Dupont,
who, from a private box, admired the
formed beings. Then again he closed
his eyes, nnd soft memory stealing '
upon hirp» showed him happy visions
his youth, of his mother, of love, and
hope and joy; of green fields, and the
murmuring brooks which had first re
vealed melody to his soul; and the
young man thought that death must be
come, and that he was on the threshold
of a better world.
But an awful shoiit, a tremendous
clamor," burst on his car; a thousand
voices roared beneath his window. The
young man starts front bis dream* what
is this he hears? ;
“ Aux arms? citoyens,
Formez vos batlnlJions,” &c.
“What is this?”| he cries., “.My
song of ibe Rhine !** ,
He listens. A beautiful and clear voice
is singing: it is still bii^ong, and then the
terrible chorus is taken up by the peo
ple, and the composer’s first wish is
gained : he feels that he is famous.
But he is dying, clinked, stifled with
charcoal. He lies senseless, fainting on
iiis bed ; but hope and joy give him
strength. He rises, falls rather than
darts across the rooiL.bis sword in
hand. One blow shivers the panes of
his window to atoms ( the broken glass
lets in the cold seal breeze and the
splendid song;. _Bot|; give life to the
young man ;'a&a qrliijt : QfiRdine enter
ed the room, .be
stand. In,t(
the porters I
to be borne
tre, where that nigh
renewed applause, h
sung between every a<
gaining renewed laurtlh*..
Ten days later, Bonfbl de L’Isle was
married to Claudinc, tie prima donrfa
of Marseilles; and the foung composer,
gratitude to her aril her country-
...3n, changed the nrtbe of his song,
nnd called it by ihc*riame it is stHI
known by— 44 The Ma‘|eillaise!” •
charity-nothing warmer than love—1
thing richer than wisdom—nothing
brighter than virtue—and nothing more
steadfast than faith.
on iJ&ZS* one mind form the
warmest, the
[<! the most
Success.—A n
eing asked what contri-
success at the bar replied,
ed by great talent, some
| by a miracle, but the majoriiy-.by corn
“ No doubt of that, my dear,” said | raencing without a Ahilling. 1 *
it* hnslmnd. triiimnhnnllv. **onlv look ! *
the husband, triumphantly, “only look
what Mr. Campbell has already done.” j Jt is the part of ja wjprhan,. like her
Y noCv felt a strange tingling in my f own beautiful planet, to cheer the dawn
but recollecting my 44 Letters
from Algiers,” I said, Oh, yes ; there
is some hope of them Arabs yet.”
44 We shall certainly go to hear you
next Sunday, and I am sure your ser
mon will raise a handsome collection.”
By this time I had taken my hat and
walked hastily to the threshold.
“Mr. Campbell,are you ill?” inquired
my two admirers.
44 No, not quite, only thinking of them
horrible cannibals!”
“ Ah, no wonder; I wish I had said
nothing about them.”
44 1 wish so, too; but my good lady,
I am not the celebrated Mr. Campbell.”
•* What! not the great missionary ?”
“No;” and so saying J returned to
my chamber, minus a guinea, and a
head shorter than when I left.—Life of
Campbell.
Birds arc the poor r
flowers the poor man’;
an’s music, and
poetry.
■‘Ynb yah! I kriowed all dc time
wbnt dat was, only I did’nt want to say
in. Jistax me agin; an see if I can’t
rays beneath his door. He opened it, ] of applause from the pit delighted at
not without alarm, and found his .apart- this instant the good man’s ears. Clau-
ment neatly' ordered, a fire burning,, a dine, called before the curtain* was.bow-
latnp, and on the table a supper. -The iog to the audience. But what is this ?
young man frowned, and looked sternly Instead of going off* she has just signed
at the scene. | to the orchestra to play. She is about to
Who dares thus insult my poverty ?* j show her gratitude to the audience in
' enough that I am starving with] verse. M. Dupont rubs his Bands, and
Missionary Poet*
Campbell the poet, add Campbell the
missionary, both deser^dly stood high
in the estimation of tldir countrymen.
The former tells us tb4 following good
story of himself: . . ,
■ Calling at an . offiQ<i > n Holbom for
some information. I witH in want ofi the
mistress of the house, i‘ sensible, well-
informed woman, invied me to take a
Tbc Author of the Railroad Sys
tem.
The following sketch of Thos. Gray,
the author of the Railway system, wc
take from the Painesville Telegraph:
Thomas Gray was born in Leeds,
England, about a half a century, or
more, ago—and this is all we know of
his early history. The Middleton Col
liery had a-railway for carrying coal to
Leeds, a distance of three miles. The
cars moved along at the rate of three
and a half miles per hour. It was
laughed at—not byjGrny—but by the
wise public. Gray saw in this little
work something that might be augment
ed into greatness ; and he thought upon
the subject, and forthwith became a vi
sionary ! He talked and wrote upon
his project of “ A General Iron Rail
way” until the people declared him in
sane. He petitioned Parliament; sought
inlerviews with the lords and other great
men; and thus became the laughing
stock of al! England. He received no
thing but rebuffs wherever he went.—
All this look place in 1820, or there
abouts-.
But he succeeded at last. The rail- , , . ,
ways were laid. The world has been Tl.?"dd«t “ot*"luTdn« s ,
bent filed by the madness of Thos. Gray. • And sweetly o'er the darkest doom,
Well, what became of .him, the read- J There shines some ling'ring beam of gladness.
will ask. We do not know ; but be- Desj*ir Is never quite despair?
lieve he still lives, in Exeter, to which xf “- vr ~ — J ~- 1 ' —
plat
would be'ihodght of'the’industry or the
farming qualities of our people, should
we see on the arrival of every steam
boat at our wharves, bushels of sweet
potatoes, brought from New Jersey or
the West ? And yet, this is as good a
climate to raise the Onion in its greatest
perfection, as it is the sweet potato.—.
There arc three kind of seed, all of
which are good in their way. In tho
first place it must be premised, that
ground selected for Onions, is rich, ve
ry rich, as the Onion is a great (coder.
The manure should be well rotted, and
well dug in; and ashes and soap suds
applied to the bed, from time to time,
even when the Onions are growing, is a
great invigorator. The first two kinds of
seed to be planted are the Set and tho
Button. The Set is the Small Onion,
raised from the black seed, al the North,
It is there planted late, and not allow
ed to mature. Here it may be planted
from October to March, and as it makes
no seed the first year, will make a supe
rior Onion for the table in May and
June. It makes a single solid bulb,
and is altogether superior to those rais
ed from buttons, as the button in good
soil will make the button again on the
lop, w hich in a great measure destroys
the value of the bulb. When quantity
is alone looked to, the button will proba
bly produce the most. The button is
easily produced in this climate, and is
easily saved, and may be planted like
the set, from October to March, but tho
earlier'the better.
The next, and best for a general
crop, to save for winter use, is the black
seed. These put in the ground from
1st January to middle of March, and if
they are pulled when fully matured,
dried in thy shade, and-either boneh£d -
and hung up, or spread on a floor where
they can have air, they will keep as
well here as at the North. Care must
j be taken to have good seed; and to test
them, soak them twenty-four hours in
milk-warm water. If they are good,
they will show the germ. Let tho rows
in the bed be about fourteen inches apart
and put in a single seed, four inches
part in the rows. If they come up
home.
Flowers arc, in the language of the
cultivator, 44 the playthings ofchildhood
and the ornaments of a grave; they
raise smiling looks to man, and grateful
ones to God.”
and the darkness, to be both the morn
ing and the evening star of a man’s life.
The light of the eye is the first to rise
and the last to set upon manhood’s day
of trial and suffering.
That woman deserves not a hus
band’s generous love, who will not greet
him with smiles as he returns from the. M „„ Ifc IM tllv 1UW!
labors of the day, who will not try to ( well, every ether one must bo thinned
chain him to his home by the sweet en-j out. Stir the ground frequently with
chaiilmenl of a cheerful heart. There 1 the hoe, and flue large, single, solid,
is not one in a thousand that is so un-; bulbs will be the reward ol your labor,
feeling as to withstand such an influ- j—Muscogee Democrat.
and break away from such -
Tito Leave* of Aulnnau.
Now that the forest, the roads and
the yards* arc covered with the falling
leaves, care should be taken to gather'
them together, so that the wind cannot
scatter them into the branches and gul
lies, where they will be entirely useless.
Nature has bountifully and skillfully
provided, in the decaying leaf, more
nourishment to the soil than fhc trunk
and branches had taken from it. Hence
the densely wooded forest is annually
increasing in richness and fertility; for
the leaf has not been sustained alano
from the roots; the atmosphere lias gi
ven n good share to its nutriment and its
fertilizing qualities; consequently, leaves
of all kinds, whether from the despised
piue, the oak, hickory, or bushes, may
Scratch the green rind ofa sapling, or be turned to good nccouril. Land that
wantonly twist it in the soil, am! a scar- ’»* shaded with leaves, will produce
red and crooked oak will tell of thee for third more than land that is cultivated
centuries to come. How forcibly does 1 in the ordinary way. They are the na-
tliis beautiful figure teach the necessity I tural manure of the earth. Without
of giving right tendencies to the mind. ] the leaves there never would have been
- a soil. Any kind of forest leaf, strewed
Go to strangers for charity, to ac-1 between corn furrows, will keep tho
Unbelief.—No man is an unbeliever,
but because he will be so; and every
man is not an unbeliever, because the
grace of God conquers some, changeth
their wills, and binds them to Christ.—
Char nock. ■" —
The straight gate of religion is wide
enough to admit any sinner, but too
narrow for the admission of any sins.
quaintances for advice, and to relatives j ground cool and moist, and make the
for nothing—and you will always have!soil rich and productive for another
a supply.
Llfhli and Shadn.
year. Leaves spread all over the “truck
j patch,” will make a barren sand pro-
; ductive, and. fruits and vegetables may
be made on lands comparatively value
less, by the liberal application of leaves.
Now that the leave3 are falling, gather
them and apply them, and increase
your crops and enrich your lands.!—•
Muscogee Democrat,
arving wittii verse. •• ai. uuponi runs uis nanus, ana iniormeu woman, -inv* :u uicm muc u . w . " nniKinVr .'n B rin» ' . J <. . . , . —
rejected by * repeats twice between his teeth 44 She sent in the parlor 5 her husband would V® “" 1"^ e&S-xBSo ! consc,ousn l ss of hav,n S do " e an . d ad 10 . l , h ® raan S® r * $9* carefqlly at
I wreu-I.nl li a jewel !" But wiih ease and rapul- I)<r at borne instantly. I tifl.vasm a ,u 'A'!, - . ! no m *° «“. 8er *™nre iBan he that isthe pap. of the ^re, mlhe horse) itis
liber swortl flty the band ha,- commenced plavine an hurry she would try « g ! 'e me the in- a S^ al Iruinm.idese.words. , urned oVer the plins of repentance, of an oblong form; carry the sue of the
:d bv Chari- unknown air. nnd i.est instant M. Du- formation renuired. A 1 *" 4 “ He “ ■ . pnpd m yoorm.od, then turn the horse
qxsTitATB Gently.”—The mild
freet entreaties is very forcible; Is.it o ..
l£ like the sunbeams, which,' cold and hunger, that I aui rejected by
any noise, make the traveller! the world as a useless and wretched
; cloak, which the'liluster of j thing, incapable ofwieUlingeUhe'f sword, .. v F _ , ..
~ ild not do, hut ratherroake or pen, but I must be insulted by ebari- i unknown ajr, and next instant M.Du-
( closer, and bind.it faster iv? Fire, light, aud wood, aU%cnt by 1 pont is standing up -with a strange and fc. . ...
dghton. one who knows my necessity? And ’ wild look. Hushed and still was every I thanked her much, r<?ce vecl the infor-
I yet who krioivs? Perhaps my mother ■ breath : the audience looked at each ’ mation; and was just '* slung her good
' lire discovered my retreat. Who f other ; not a word of communication morning, whe’ri she he* tatingly aske^
,- tild have acted thus.? My moth-’ takes place: men shudder or ralherjif I would kindly pu my na
to he the word of Goff, because er, 1 bless thee, both for thy action, anff tremble with emotion. But the first charity subscription lif* .
be removed* Up to 1846 he had
been neglected. .While thousands have
been enriched by the consummation of
his brilliant scheme, he remained forgot
ten—forced by poverty to sell glass on
commission for a living. Howitt, iff the
People’s Journal, a few years ago, gave
a somewhat lengthy sketch of bis ca
reer; lbu$ bringing him into public nr
Nor life, nor death, the future closes;
And round the shadowy brow of Care
Will Hope and Fancy twine their roses.
The memory oQthe wicked'shall rot.
The Horse’s Eye.
I will inform you how for certaift you
may know whether a horse has a strong
and good eye, or a weak eye, and like-
So dothjt happen often that the memo- jly to go blind. People in general turn
ry of the wicked rnari rotteth long before i a horse’s head to the light to examine
his carm«p. - . ■■ his eves. You can know verv little hv
bis carcase. ~ -■ ■ — . tjbis eyes. You can know very little by
A little wrong^done to another is a; this method, unless it be a very defec-
great injury to ^ourselves. The se- live one. Yon must oxamine the eyo
” j yerest punishment of an injury is the ] first, wheif the horse stands with, his
!.would; try u g ,v
formation required. *
Well, I. was in ajarry, as usual,
and then a frantic
l to their feet,'a j
, a cry 'of a th
v subscription 1
s me,” said
»at;lh -
_ - r , , - ■ • I - Words and ^diseaseS^grow upon us
How many of the railroad projectors.! wilh s . j„ a wc f aIk mu £ hi be .
agitators, stockholders, &c., have ever; we 1,ave Men mach. We are
heard of the subject of tin, bnef sketch. J mo5t disea3e d, because nature is weak-
: - j est; and death’, which. is near, must
ie South Carolinian,. published at ■ have harbingers. Such h the old age
mbia, (S.~ C.) describes a great fall ] of the world; 00 marvel* if ibis last^
of meiors, or shooting stars, which oc- lime be full of writing and weak di-
_ ^
pupil in your mind, then turn the hors;
about, bring him to a bright light, and if
the pupil'of the eye contracts, and ap
pears much smaller than it was id tb
darker light, then yod may be sure l
horse has a strong, good eye:
vided the pupil renr - ' “
same size as it ap