Newspaper Page Text
VOL. IV.—NO. 14.
THEJOURNAL
BY LA HATTK & (iRANBKRKY.
CASH SUBSCRIPTION RATES.
On* ropy ono $2 00
On* copy six month* 1 00
On# copy three month* 75
Any one furnishing five subscriber*, with
the money, will receive a copy free.
Subscriber* wishing their papier# changed
from one pci-office to nother, rmint state
tlie name of the port office from which they
wi.li it changed, an well us that to which
they wish It sent.
AM subscriptions moat he paM in advance.
T he paper will be stopped at the end of the
time paid for, unless subsciiptions arc pre
viously renewed.
Eifty numbers complete the year.
CASH ADVERTISING RATES.
“Braes 1 mo 3 luos (i inoa 12 mis
1 Inch .77 sa6o $ 4 sooo* 10 00
2 inches.. 450 725 11 00 18 00
• inches.. 600 900 15 00 22 00
. Inches.. 550 11 00 IS 00 27 00
. column.. 660 14 00 25 00 35 00
t column.. 12 50 25 00 40 00 00 00
*C Inmn.. 22 00 41 00 C 2 00 100 00
Marriages and deaths not exceeding six
ines will be published free.
Payment* to be made quarterly in advance,
according to schedule rates, unless otherwise
agreed upon.
Persons sending advertisements will state
the length of time they wish them published
and the space they want them to occupy.
Parties advertising by contract will be re
tricted to their legitimate business.
LIOAI. ADVItRTIHSMKNTS.
Sheriffs sales, per inch, four weeks... $3 50
*• mortgage fi fa sales, per inch,
eight weeks 6 60
Citation far letters of administration,
guardianship, etc., thirty days 8 00
Notice to debtors and creditors of an
estate, forty days ... 5 00
Application for leave to sell land, four
weeks I 00
Sales of land, etc., per inch, forty days 5 00
•* •• perishable property, per inch,
ten days 2 00
Application for letters of dismission from
suirdianship. fortv days 5 00
Application for letters of dismission from
administration, three months 7 60
Establishing lost papers, the ftill space
of three months, per inch 7 00
Compelling titles from executors or ad
ministrators, -vliere bond has been
given by the deceased, the full space
of three months, per inch 7 00
Es'ray notices, thirty days 3 00
Ru e for foreclosure of mortgage, four
months, monthly, per inch 6 00
Sale of insolvent paper*, thirty days... 300
Homestead, two weeks 2 00
pusinesa OardLs
JDr- T. i_,. cTenisilxis.
sgpw
**Wtjg£9-
HAMILTON, (.'A.
' ~~L~M. MOI?L KV,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
HAMILTON , OA.
Will continue to practice law in all the
State and United S‘atet> Court*.
Til OS. S. MITCHELL, M. D.,
Rrtldcnl Physician and Surgeon,
HAMILTON GEORGIA
Special attention given to operative surgery
pW Terms Osh
CHATTAHOOCHEE HOUSE ,
By J.T.HIGGINBOTHEM.
WEST POINT, GA
ALONZO A. DOZIER,
Attorney and Counselor at Law,
COLUMBUS, GA.
Tract ices in State and Federal Courts in
Georgia and Alabama. Makes Commercial
Jaiw a specialty. Office over C. A. Redd &
Co’s store, Columbus, Ga. dec4-ly
Hines Dozier,
ATTORNEY-AT LAW,
HAMILTON, GEORGIA
Will practice in the Chattahoochee Circuit,
•r anywhere else. Office in the Northwest
corner of the Court-house, up-stairs. jauß
Columbus Dental Rooms,
W. T. POOL, Proprietor,
firoreia Home Building, Columbus, Ga
CENTRAL HOTEL,
Oolumlius, Gta.
Mrs. S. E. Woldbxdoe, Prop’ss.
L 1. llabtet, Clerk.
B. A. RUSSELL. C. R. RUSSEELL
BUSSELL & RUSSELL,
Attorneys at Law,
COLUMBUS, - GA.
Will practice in the State and Federal
Coart*.
ASUOfflcc orer Acee k Murdock's atore,
108 Broad Street, Columbus, Ga.
GANKIN HOUSE
COLUMBUS, GA.
Mbs. F. M. GRAY, Tioj rittrets
J.A. Sellers, Clerk.
HAMILTON 1
THE WIDOW BAKLOW.
Peter Buskirk was very fond of
m nry; not so fond that he quite
a arved himself to keep it, or hide it
u > chimney, or refused himself fire,
or lights, or a pillow; but yet so very
fondofitasto he on the verge of
miaerliood without having quite fall
en over. Beggars reaped no harvest
from hi* purse or kitchen, and the
match-makers could make no im
pression on his batchelor heart. Pe
ter Buskirk saw through the latter as
well as the former, and buttoned up
his pockets as hastily in the presence
of bewitching crinoline as in that of
a seedy gentleman with a folded doc
ument iu his breast pocket. The men
wanted to rob him—the women to
marry him. The last was the worst.
Not that Peter hatvd women; on the
contrary, even at fifty he was re
markably susceptible—a bright eye
put him in a flutter. But, the fact
was, women, as wives or daughters,
were expensive. They needed clothes,
and were fond of dainties; they were
proverbially extravagant. Should he
marry one, she would spend his mon
ey while he lived, and squander it
after he was dead. And with this
awful terror before him, Peter steer
ed clear of the shoals of matrimony.
There was ono inconvenience in
this batchelorhood, however. This
was the housekeeping; for it involved
a servant —someone to make beds,
wash dishes, cook and iron. In short,
the servant-of-all-work was always
the bane of Peter’s life —eating and
drinking in a manner which kept the
master of the house in a continual
ferment; wasting butter and fuel, and
each change in the kitchen’s encum
brance being followed by the myste
rious disappearance of towels ami
napkins and such small ware. There
was no rest for good Mr. Buskirk.
He tried Betty and Dinah and Mary
aud Ann, and then, in despair, flew
to a certain Mrs. Brown, the giver of
tea-parties innumerable, for advice.
“ Servants are sad plagues,” she
said.
“Eat you out of house and home,”
said Peter,
“Not to be relied for honesty,”
said Mrs Brown,
“Thieves, ma’am, thieve*!” said
Peter.
“Ait,” said Mrs. Grown, “a gentle
man has no time to watch them.
Now I should udviso marrying, Mr.
Buskirk.’’
‘‘Marrying! ’’
“Yes, sir,; a wife can manage such
things so much better. Besides, if
you choose a smart, capable woman,
she will keep an eye on the servant.
It will be mneb more economical to
marry.’’
“Economical! ’’ yelled Peter; “my
good lady I Eco —I—O, goodness!
Feathers and flowers, lacos and
silks, and rings, and—ice cream and
things— economical! llow many
yards do you take for a dress
ma’am ? ’’
“Well, sir, twelve or fifteen—some
times, when it’s silk, you know, eigh
teen.”
“Eighteen yarns, at five shillings or
so a yard, and not one dress, but
twenty. My good lady it would be
enough to ruin a man.”
Mrs. Brown reflected.
“But if you could find an econom
ical woman, Mr. Buskirk.”
“Ah! if I could find a mermaid.’*
“One who never wasted a penny.”
“Who lives on next to nothing.
The fact is, Mr. Buskirk, I have such
a lady in my eye. She’s a widow—
quite a young one—Mrs. Barlow, and
I’ll have her at Peach House next
week.”
Peter Buskirk grinned sarcastic
ally.
“Economy in hoops and bonnets,”
he said to himself. They want to
marry me and spend my money.’’
And he went home wroth.
However, economy forbade him to
refuse an invitation to dinner; and
when, a week after, Mrs. Brown sent
“her compliments,” etc., Mr. Buskirk
donned his Sunday suit and went
over to the Peach House at five pre
cisely. The parlor was full of ladies;
ladies in silks and muslins, with crin
olines and flounces. Most of them
Mr. Buskirk knew well, and he look
ed about in vain for a stranger. Mrs.
Brown’s note had said:
“Mrs. Barlow will be with us.”
But which was that the economical
widow ? Probably the lady in green
silk near the piano. He could not
remember her lace.
Suddenly Mr. Buskiik’s doubts
were set at rest. Mrs. Brown ejaca-
HAMILTON, HARRIS CO., GA„ Wx
lated, ‘Dear me! where is cousin
Betsy? Mr. Buskirk, you must be
introduced to Mrs. Barlow,” and at
these words something small and tat
emerged from between two portly
dames, and stood before him. It
was a very short and slendor little
woman, with a remarkably pretty
face. She wore no hoops, and her
dress cleared her ankles. The
sleeves were close, and the skirts had
perhaps three breadths in it The
dross itself was of very plain brown
merino, and she wore neither brooch
nor bow, only a white linen collar.
Peter looked approval. Several of
the ladies exchanged glances, and a
faint giggle was heard; and, as
though by common consent, the two
wens left tete-a-tete in a corner.
“Pleasaut day,” said Peter, to com
mence the conversation. “Pleasant
day, hut cold.’’
“Ah, yes; but I dislike cold weath
er,” said the lady.
“Don’t agree with you ma’am?
“O, that’s not it. lain never ill;
but cold is so expensive. Lights
early and coal’s dear,” proceeded the
lady. “Money slips through one’s
fingers; and I never waste things.’’
“My case exactly,” said Buskirk.
“ It’s astonishing how things cost.
Now there is butter—say a pound to
a fortnight.’’
“ O, I never eat butter; it coats too
much,” said the lady.
“Ah ! and sugar and tea and cof
fee.”
“If you indulge in such luxuries
what can you expect ?” said Mrs.
Barlow.
“ They are artificial wants alto
gether, so they are,” said Mr. Bus
kirk. “ But then habit is second
nature.”
“ Extravagant habits ruin many,”
said Mrs. Barlow. “O, I shudder
when I look at tho*e flounces. Such
a waste of material.”
“I’ve often thought so,” said Pe
ter, “And you don’t wear them ?”
“ I ?’’ said Mr*. Barlow. “ I have
my senses, sir. I’ve no wish to die
in a workhouse. I’ve had this dress
ten years.”
“Indeed*” said Tetcr. “And I
suppose some ladies buy one every
month.”
“ Every ten days,’’ said Mrs. B ir
low. “O, I blush for iny sex, Mr.
Buskirk, I do, indeed.
Peter was charmed. He began to
think Mrs. Brown right. The cost
of such a wife would be a mere trifle,
and what an eye she would keep to
the expenses of a household.
Ere the evening was over be bad
decided that it would be cheaper to
marry than to remain single, were
Mrs. Barlow, his helpmate.
She’d not only be saving herself,
but she would check me in my little
extravagances,” said he. “ She would
be invaluable to me*. She wears one
dress tea years. The fates must
have sent her to earth for my special
benefit.”
So, after due consideration, Peter
resolved to court the economical
widow, and that lady being conven
iently domiciled at Mrs. Brown’s, he
found every opportunity.
It was a very inexpensive court
ship. He gave her not a pressnt.
She expected none. He took her
nowhere save to church, where
neither of them ever eaw the plate,
and both were happy.
At last he proposed. She blushed
and hesitated, and begged time to
consider. At last she said, “I am
afraid to say yes, Mr. Buskirk. I
like you ; but you are so terribly ex
travagant. You drink tea and coffee
and eat butter, and really I should
tear of coming to want, I should, in
deed.”
“I! Why, I’m the most economi
cal soul living,” said Peter.
“ Extravagant people always think
that,” said the lady. No, I’m afraid
to say yes, unless, indeed, you were
to make your property over to me, so
that I could be sure you would not
ruin yonrself. Of course that is im
possible, ami it would be such a care
that really I could scarcely desire it,
even for a gentleman I so much
respect.’’
And the economical relict blushed
and hesitated.,
It was Peter’s turn to pause and
consider. He went away to do so,
and, returning suddenly to his house,
found his servant maid selling drip
ping to n man. He dismissed her at
once, and rushed .buck to the widow
Barlow’s.
“ My money would be safer in your
bands than mine,” he said with a
moan. “Marry rue ami keep me from
being ruined.”
What the widow’s answer was
may be judged fom the fact that
three week’s from that day they were
united, the clergyman receiving five
shillings from Peter, aud the bride
wearing her lirown merino, in the
pocket of which she carefully depos
ited the deeds which made the prop
erty exclusively her own.
“ Now for happiness,'' said Peter.
“No more thieving servants —no
more waste —and a lovely wife into
the bargain. He! he, he 1 Peter
Buskirk is the m.<n for luck.’’
And he took his bride home to
dine on cold meat and radishes, be
ing absolutely ashamed even to speak
of his accustomed mutton chop be
fore so eoouotniciil a lady.
The next morning he hurried off to
business.
“Never waste time, love,”said the
newly married dnme. “ Besides, I’ve
a great deal to attend to: so good
bye.”
“ Good-bye,’’ responded Peter.
“ What a treasure yon are, my dear.
The washing, I suppose? My moth
er always washed on Monday.”
And away he went, ooutent with
himself and all the world,
At six he returned. Horror of hor
rors ! there were ladders against his
house, and men upon them. Had
there been a fire? He rushed up
breathless.
“ What’s the matter? Who are
these men ?” he panted. Fire 1
thieves ! Oh ! I must be dreaming.”
“ Don’t make any noise, love,”
said a voice from the parlor window.
“They’re only house painters.”
“ House-paiuters I’’
“ Yes, dear. Dou’t you know the
Dutch proverb, ‘A coat of paint pays
itself.’ ”
Peter breathed again.
“But the awful expense!’’ he said.
“ Dear, dear, you should have con
sulted me.”
He stumbled into the house, and
over the form of a man kneeling in
the hall.
“ Who are you f’*
In reply the person produced a
card on which wrs printed, “ Gilt <k
Binder, Upholsterers.”
“And what are you doing?” gasped
Peter.
“ Measuring the hall for a uew oil
cloth, sir,” said the man.
Peter staggered in.
A woman was making up a carpet
in the front parlor; another was ar
ranging curtains.
He rushed up stairs.
There sat another woman also at
work.
Again he gasped the question,
“ Who are you /”
“ Mrs. Buskirk’s regular seam
tress, please sir,” said the woman.
“And where is Mrs. Buskirk ?’’
And there entered from the ad
joining room, a lady dressed in silk,
and in expensive crinoline, with
bracelets, brooch, earrings and a lit
tle lace cip worth a small fortune.
“ The furniture is ordered, and the
painters are here, and I’ve engaged
all the servants, Mr. Buskirk,” said
the lady; “and the cook wauts to
know whether you like beef under or
well done. In such things you shall
have your choice always. There was
no time to make a pudding to-day,
so we must have ices. Strawberries*
too, are only two shillings a basket.”
“ Mrs. Buskirk, have you gone cra
zy cried Peter, “or am I dream
ing ?”
•* I* m wide vake. at all events,”
cried the lady. I’ve starved long
enough, and worn that brown merino
until I hate it. I always was fond
of dress —”
“ Fond of dress 1” repeated Peter;
“and loved good things!”
“ Loved good things I” repeated
tho spouse; and now I’m married, I
mean to have them.’’
“ But—if I had—known —I —” be
gan Peter.
“ Wouldn’t have married, I sup
pose,” said the bride. Well, my
cousin, Mrs. Brown, told me that,
you knew.”
Peter looked at her. The truth
was plain at last. He tried to speak,
but could not. He stared at his
lady for five minutes by the clock,
and then rushed out of the house
muttering, “T*ken in 1 taken in I’’
It is said Peter Buskirk never re
covered the shock. Against his will
be lived luxuriously ever after; and
his wife astonished the neighborhood
by her magnificent attire and grand
parties. But nevertheless Peter him
self expired in less than a year; and
the last words on his lips were said
lo be “Taken in I taken in!”
Mo. ....ce
an agod v. belonging to
to the Methodist Episcopal Church,
called to see mo. Having listened
with interest to some facts w hich he
related in class meetings and love
feasts, I felt desirous to hoar his his
tory from himself. Accordingly I
made the reqnesl, and he, becoming
interested in his own story, related it
with feeling and effect peculiar to the
simplicity of the “child of nature.”
The narration contains allusions ami
reflexions which, on account of their
originality and pertinency, cannot
fail to he useful. While he was talk
ing I was (unknown to him) writing
down the substance of his remarks.
I have written it in his own language,
believing that it would rob it of half
its interest to your readers were it
rendered to them striotly correct by
“nicest rules of art.”
“In de fall of 1 leas part of
Judge—*-'s farm, tip on de river.
Move up dar vid my family, an work
hard for sevrel year. Judge mity
good to me, low me many liberties,
an I make money dar. But I thought
I mout do better down in de Indiana
country. So I starts down dar splor
in de country, an found amity good
place, as I thought, an tuck a leas for
five year. Den I cam np an fetch
my family down dar; and I hab boss
es, an cows, an calfs, an 05 head of
hog. Well, I put up my cabin, at.
hire hans, an clare out fifteen acres
for to put in kawn. Dar war mity
good parster out in de woods, an pea
vine, O man I Well, I didn’t know
nothin bout de country, an tuck out
my hossee and cows to feed. Well,
two or three arter dat, dey cum bout
de house, an walk roun an trimble,
an one arter de udder fall down an
die—bosses too. De cans for dat
war, dey been etin trimlin weed; but
I didn't know nothin bout it. Dat
same day de young man what lib wid
me die; an de next day a young man
wbal I hire, he dis wid de trimbles
too. Dey didn’t eat de trimble do—
only dey drink de milk what de cows
give what die. My wife war sick wid
it 100, but troo marcy she war spared.
One day dat week, in de mornin, I
was sittin on a fence rail, by de kawn
field- felt very bad an gloomy. Jes
den mammy cum by. She stop an
say, “Sim, what de martor wid you f”
I tole her I feel very bad—don’t
know what I shall do. She say, “ O
Sam, all dis is for the best. You bin
careless bout your soul, an God now
shorn you de folly of de worl, an it
may be de casion of your gettin ligun ;
an den you will say yourself dat it
war de best thing as eber happen to
you.” So she pass on to de spring.
She war mity good woman, rale
Christian carry de witness in her
breast. O yes, mammy war good
woman, ebery body low dat. Well,
as I was snyin, I war sittin on de
fence rail, an jes before before me dar
war rite smart hill rise up, an swell
off to de left; an it war covered wid
oak trees; an my hogs war dar. Dey
hadn’t eat no trimblin weed; an/
notice dat de hogs go from tree to tree ,
an eat akarnn , an neber look up once
t > see whar dey cum from. Thinks I,
dat jes de way wid me. God bin
smilin on me from my yout up, an
porein down blussins on me; an I
jes like de hog, neber look up to see
whar cum from , nor to tank God for
dem. Dis tought run troo my heart
like dagger, an I jump down, an
went an pray. Bout dis time I open
ed de sugar camp, an lap bout one
hundred trees, and I pray at ebery
tree I tap. As I turn de atige I pray
almost ebery turn. So I went day
arier day—cat little or nottin. Mam
my say, “Sam, why don’t you eat
nottin ?” I say I don’t want nottin,
I has formed resoloshun neber to stop
till I git ligun. Some time arter die
I hear dar gwyin to be praar metin
tree miles off—Metodis, So Sunday
mornin I starts for metin. From
whar 1 den live dar war high hill to
climb, mity steep. I start np it. Dat
morn bad been snow storm. Snow
war shoe-mouth deep. I climb, I
climb. I hear one© dat Moses went
np in mountin, an God meet him an
talk to him dar. So I went on, an
when I got np to de top I bresht
away de snow, an pray, an tole God
dat I form resoshum neber to go back
to my house till he convert my soul.
Feel somewhat couraged dar, and
went on to praar metin, which war
held at de class leader’s house. Hoar
dar gwyin to be prechiii at de inclin
can preacher. Aide
. s house war declass lead-
.. do old professors talkin bout
thar farms, an crap*, an bosses, an
cows, an oder critn-rs—an Sunday,
too, an not a word a word drapt bout
ligun. Thinks I, dis no place for me;
so I starts on to de metin house. Jes
as I bow my head to enter de house,
pearantly something struck me. How
asevor, I takes my seat way back.
Metin begin, dey sing, dey pray, de
tears run down my cheek in streams,
an I hung my head down away one
side so nobody s'uant see me. An
when dey noel down den I gives way,
an cry an pray; an jes before the
praar closed I wipe my eyes dry so
nobody shant know it. Arter while
I feel ao bad dat I couldn’t stand up
no longer, an fell down on my face in
de floor, and cry to God for marcy.
Den de wandering of ray mine kep
cumin in, cumin in, cumin in, cumin
in, jes like nats, from dis way an dat,
cumin in, cumin in. I felt dat I war
wortty to be darn’d for my sins, an
felt dat if I war saved it would be
troo great marcy. I den felt dat I
war jes able to do nottin; an I tell de
blessed Jesus, dat if any ting war
done in my case, he would have to
do it hissolf Jes den somethin rise
up in me, an swell, an swell, an cum
up in my throat. I couldn’t speak a
word, nor whisper neither. All at
once, pearantly, it broke, an I felt
such liberty, an peace, an joy, dat I
holla out, “ Glory to God 1 ’’ an arter
praisin him wid de people some time,
I went on my way home rejoioin.
Arter dat, I felt as if I war cut loose
from my toes to my head; for whar
de Spiris of de Lord is, dar is liborty.
O de sweet joy an peace dar is in be
lieviti! an lam still on de way; an
mine I tell yon, whoever gets to
Heaven, or whoever don’t, Sam is on
de road. Glory to God 1 ”
In reviewing the above I think on
ly one re t'neit will prevail, viz,
“How true to nature, and how true
to grace.” Yours, &c., M.
May 20, 1837.
A Man Whipped ht a Wo
man.—Kate Manley is twenty-two
years old, and is the daughter of old
Mrs. Manley, who has sold newspa
pers at the Now York side of the Ful
ton Ferry for twenty years. Among
Miss Hanley’s admirers was one An
drew Flynn, who is about twenty six
years old, and formerly worked in
the fish market, but who for the last
few years has been chiefly known as
one of the loafers who leunge around
the market. On Saturday afternoon
Miss Hanley went into the bar-room
of Lumtnerrnan’s Hotel, at Fulton
and South streets, to get change for
a bill. Flynn was in there drunk,
and at once began to abuse her, using
tho vilest language. Miss Hanley
waited for a moment to see if any of
the men in the place would interfere,
and seeing that they did uot, she
struck out straight for the shoulder,
hitting Flynn in the face, knocking
him down. When he staggered to
his feet, she promptly knocked him
down again. Flynn’s face was bleed
ing freely, being out with the rings
on Miss Manley’s hand. She was
about knocking him down again,
when he turned and ran out of the
place. Mr. Flynn has a pair of black
ened eyes, and Miss Hanley still sells
newspapers at the ferry.— New York
Times.
Ladies’ Department-
For the Journal ]
Mountain Side, )
March 14th, 1874. J
Dear Journal: Thinking some of
your fair readers would like to treat
themselves to anew suit without
troubling “paps,” or “ husband ’’ for
the means to obtain it, I send you the
following:
Recipe pok Renovating Blacx Al
paca.
Grate some Irish potatoes into
cold spring water—ssy a large potato
to every quart of water, allowing
from Iwo to three quarts for a dress.
The pan of water must not be stirred
in the least for forty-eight hours,
then very slowly and steadily pour
off the clear liquor, but, not a particle
of the sediment, into an open vessel.
Rip the seams in the dress, then re
move the dust by brushing every
piece on both sides. Dip ibe pieces
of alpaca, one at a time, into the po
tato water, up and down severa
times, being careful not to crease
them; then wipe them on a flat, clean
table, with a piec: of old black calico
or any solid, black cotton goods (if
wiped with anything whi:e it Daves
panicles of lint on (lie alpaca, which
will spoil it) first on ono side then
on the other. It is as well to hang
each piece as dipped, upon a line to
allow the drops to drain off little
before wiping. Be sure the pieces
do not become at all dry, as thty
must be thoroughly wet, until iron
ing day. Have a damp cloth to cover
the pieces in after wiping and fold
ing carefully; thou when they are
all done, iron one way on the wrong
side. It is best to have the ironing
(able, also, coverod with something
black.
By the exercise of neatness, ingen
uity and taste in making it up, any
one who has not tried it, will be as
tonished to see how nioe and new
an old dress looks when treated in
thin manner.
The same recipe is recommended
for cleaning silks, either light or dark,
only the potatoes must be pared, be
foru groling, if for light colored
goods. Estsllb.
liaising Geraniums, etc. for Cut
tings.
A Chbap PuornooATisto Bcr.
Guttings of almost all greenhouse
plants root more readily when set
undet glass ; and since adopting the
use of the proprogating box, my suc
cess has been so gratifying that I
wish other flower lovers to share
tho benefit of my simple experiment,
though to many it involves no n*w
idea.
The pro’progating box consist#
simply of a wooden box covered over
the top by a pane of glass. Have
the box made eight or nine inches
deep, and of a convenient size for
handling, say fifteen by twelve inches
square, or according to size of the
pieoe of glass you wish to use. It is
best to construct the box so that the
glass may slide on and off in a groove,
though this is not essential.
Cover the bottom of the box to
the depth of one or two inches with
small stones, or fragments of crockery
or plastering; then fill to within four
iiiohea of tha top with clean sand.
You are now ready for your catlings.
For these, young, soft wood of the
majority of plants is best. Cut them
from two to four inches long, us
ing a sharp knife and removing
them from the parent plant by a
smooth apward stroke. Cut away
the leaves from about an inch of the
lower part of the stem; also take off
all flower buds as these would be too
heavy a tax on tho vitality of the
root'ess plants.
For setting the cuttings in yonr
box, I cannot do better than to give
you the neat plan of a writer in the
New Yorker , viz: “ Take a pane of
glass, and with the edge make a
groove in the sand across one side of
the box, about an inch from the edge,
and deep enough to receive the cat
tings, which should bo buried from
one-half to two-thirds their entire
length, and set in close together, as
just so their leaves can touch. Press
the sand lightly against the catlings,
smooth off the surface and open an
other grove, one to two inches from
and parallel with the first. Again,
set in the cuttings, press the sanu
closely against them, and proceed in
this manner until your box i- filled,
or until you have put in all your
cuttings. Water should now be ap
plied to settle the sand and fill up
the interstices than may have been
left around the stems.’*
Set the box where there is plenty
of light, though not where the sun
shine will fall directly on it, as too
much sun may, in a few hours, blight
all your hopes. The sand must be
kept thoroughly wot; to this end it
is best to give the tattings a sprink
ling of tepid water every morning,
replacing the glass at once.
In a short lime many of the plants
will have grown up, touching the
glass ; these you will find havestruiv
root and should be removed into
suitable soil for their growth. Aft<
potting them, give them a slight wa
tering to settle the earth around th
roots, then set them, if the weathw
be warm, in a cool, shady place, un
til they have recovered from ih*
change. Look at them again in an
hour, and if one droops much, tu
tumbler over it uulil it revives, wheu
the air should be admitted by pr .
ping up one side of the tumbler i
day or two: after which remove J
entirely, and by degrees accub
your pets 10 the sunshine.
All who will faithfully follow i
method will meet with few
poiiitments in their attempts at i
creasing their stock O.'all plants e
giuttii fiom slips. E.F.
x iiiAR
