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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