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TII jj rs:Di:n.n. r;no.r
BV
Park & Rogers,
m piTBMSIIED EVERY TUESDAY AT!
1 three dollars per annum. ]
nVFKTI-KMF.NTS published at the usual rates.
A". ...» »i\ the Clerks of the Courts of Ordinary that ,
ade for Utters of Administrati«n, must be
s « K*»
. h u N
r Entire b.\
t.rstor
id Administrators for Debtors and Crcdi-
> render m their accounts, must be published fisIX WEEKS.
l< rs , l ^ r f K.or.n'c tiv Executors and Administrators iuu.il bead-
S ? # JdSIXTY DAYS before the d iy of sale.
ff i - of person tl prop rtv (except negroes) of testate tnd intes-
Ma,c * ' hv : '•\ccutors and Administrators, must be advertised
uie c*lyj s
yOll ^ })V Executors. Administrators and Guardians to the
. A rt oMh boary for leave to sell Land, raustbe published FOUR
no F.yprntnrs and Administrators for Letters Dis-
VOL.. 8.
MliLEllfiEWLLE. (GJu) 29, 1838.
NO. 40.
.'osure of .M*ri zaires on real estate must
A^'V,„'„ r . a month for KOL R MONTHS
b* * |: <; a I E Mte hy Executors. Administrators and Guardi
mi«! i.e iiuMi.'hcd rQ>*TY DAYS before the day of sale —
* rS ’ sn’es must he made at the court house door between the
Th £SC ■* r i M the morning ard four in the afternoon. No sale
*° urs ,".. .i .v i« valid, unless so expressed in the advertisement.
front ’
Court of Ordinary, (accompanied
»inent) to make titles to land, must be
ith :
’ Orders of th*
JSSfmIwtiw atIcast -
*\r^ ues under execution^ regularly granted by the courts,
? he advertised THIKTY DA Ye*—under mortgage executions
n i "* T ,., .w yj_j2iles of Perishable Property under order of Court,
91 tie advert red. generally, TEN PAYS before the day of sale
W a1I orders for Advertisements will be (manually attended to.
directed to this Office, or the Editors, must be
All or.
• • All Lctte
to entitle them to atten
FEDERAL i n ion job office.
— «?■]; have recently nia.le large additions to our JOB
Y» OFFICE, and arc now prepared lo execute with
ncatnr.-* and despatch.
ALL KINPS OF
plain, Orttanvniul and Fancy
af&asr&asr&a
8UCII AS
ni^CELLANEOIS.
ilOOKH. * CIRCULARS,
pamphlets, jf handbills,
CAROS, as LABELS,
Arc. Ate# Arc.
and extensive assortment of
We have now i
hand *
s *•> & <sp ® # *
Ij.ed by .lie JifT* rent L"gnl Officers of this Slate, of ihe
most approved forms.
terwns wishing DEEDS or BLANKS of any kind, can
be supplied hy the Bourn, Quire, or single copy, by calling
at the Federal Union O.fice, in the Upper Tenement
of the brick building, below Huson's Tavern, on Grcene-
.treet formerly occupied by the Darien Bank.
PARK & ROGERS.
The extensive ci/cula'ion of our paper in Georgia and Ala
bama, and in other States, offers to our patrons and others,
having advertisements, an opportunity of giving general pub-
lirity to their notices, &e.
I OOli AT THIS.—The undersigned offers for
A sale one hundred shares of stock in the Monroe Rail
Road Bank, for which 1 will lake one hundred and twenty
five dollars per share ensh. I also offer for sale two thirds
of the McDonough Factory, situated two ami a half miles
north west of McDonough, in complete operation. I will
take a good price for the Factory, sons lo allow the purcha
ser a chance for to make a good interest on the money in-
♦nlwt. Terms made known hy applying to the subscriber
in McDonough, Georgia.
■13-411; JOHN DAILEY Jun.
Bacon! Hacon!!
J r ST K !£('!£ I VKD.--20 000 jv uiuIk prime Itei-
tiuiore Middling Hacon, and for hale hy
April 17, 43—if. NICHOLS & DEM1XG.
Bacon!! Bacon!!!
k LARGE quantity of Superior GLOKGIA cured
J\ BACON fur MALE in Milledg. v.ile,by
4t-45 WILLIAM A MOTT.
GLOBE HOTEL.
tk ’■%»'
M RS. N# J« GODWIN respectfully informs her
friendh and the ptililn , that »h»* will continue to keep
OL*m tins establishment during the present year, for the ac
commodation of BOA K DEKS and TRANSIENT
persons; every effort w ill lie made to render comfortable
hII such as may patronize the house—and to give general
■alisfRCtinn. Milledgeville, January 1, 1838.-28
mTOTICE.-Tlie connexion her< tof»re existing between
1^1 us, in conducting the .MANSION HOI KB, in
the town of Kalonton, is hereby diasolwd, bv mutual con
tent. N A THAI* I EL BARNES,
J E. ADAMS.
Eaionton, April 23,1838. 4t-16
“ Iti,s .v,v ao .v ho i s a:,
GAINESVILLE,
THIS comfortable
by its former proprietoi
GEORGIA.
'-tahli.shmcnt is re-openetl
, and will be in a elate of
readiness tor lit** reception of fnmi!i*s anti other
persons by tie* middle of May. The proprietor has gone to
great expense iri enlarging and refitting the \\ bole establish
ing m inside and out, all of which will lie neat, dean and
•comfortable. The Stables and Carriage Houses, are ex-
U»n*ive, and in all respects well suited to the purposes lor
which they are designed, la short the proprietor think*
he will hazard nothing, in pledging that this establishment
in the general, shall he inferior to none in the Southern
flutes, whatever Comfort* that can be in anyway com
manded from the reg4.ureet» of the surrounding Country, will
be afforded to h s guests in a manner In* trust*, that will be
entirely to their satisfaction. The establishment will he
enlarged lhe present season, to upwards of thirty rooms
—and charges the same as at the other public houses in the
Village.
The proprietor Hatters himself, that he is too well known
to the public to rentier it necessary fur him to offer to them
testimonials of bis abilities or desire, to render those who
favor him with their company, in all respects easy and
comfortable, llis tkiue and interest are both at stake in
•astaining the beautiful V illage of Gainesville,—which pre-
•wits as manv advantages as a summer retreat, a*any other
•pot North or South. If therefore a liberal Southern pub
lic, will afford a sufficient patronage tojustify thedevelope-
inent and concentration of the various resources of the
surrounding country, so as to bring them into action for
thnr comfort and convenience, they may be assured that
the means thus afforded tlie proprietor of tliia establish
ment, shall be liberally applied to its improvement and the
procurement of every comfort they can require, until it
thu.” lose nothing by comparison with any other of the
ikiml, .V*rth, South, East or West,- without a liberal pat-
treittge however H is evident public expectation cannot be
»«t. If the advantage of an unexceptionable climate su-
•frior water, wit!, several .T5ediciiial t-pringMonout winch
I. acknowledged hy the ne-sl .vmpeionl judg.-s lo he excel -
«l by none in the Southern State.c' fine roads tn every dt-
rection and good society, are iim'ni enie,; ssnfficien o j -
«ify the reasonable expectation, that £ liberal Jin in e g
public will give to their HOME In,^^■
ence over foreign ones—then the proprietor . '
that this appeal w ill not be made in vain. , T
REUBEN TIIORSTOh*
April 23, 1838. 6t-46
NOTICE.
R AN AW AY from the subscriber about tbe 20th of Fe!>-
ruary last, a Negro man named BOB, about five
feel eight inches high, thirty years of age. rather yellowish
black; it is expected he will aim to get to Milledgeville, Ga.
information of him in Jail or otherwise will he attended lo
and rewarded. M. M. EDWARDS.
Aear Wilsonville, Slielby county, ,11 aba mu,
April 23, 1833. 16-lf
Tsv/» hIjER v,
'Saddlery Hardxodrc, Harness, Trunks, Whips, ijc.
SMITH & WRIGHT
ESPECTFULLY inform their old natrons and the
R
—— public generally, that they now have on hand ft *b«r
idd establishment, at SEW ARK, Sew Jersey, a splendid
assortment of SADDLERY, and all other articles in
that line, to which they would solicit the attention of such
as may want, and who feel disposed lo favor them with their
custom, being confident that they can please in quality and
style better than they have heretofore been enabled to do.
Newark, New Jersey, February 17, 1338. 26l-3<
€ •000 ACRES VALUABLE LAND FOR
I SALE. Will he sold, at Public Auction, on the first
Tuesday in June next, in the town of Starkville, Lee conn*
ly, if not previously sold at private sale, the following selllc-
meuts of Land :
One sett It-ment in Baker county, containing 1/50 screw of
the best Chickasahatchee Lands, with 350 or 400 acres un
der cultivation, in good repair, with comfortable big t louses,
consistingof lots Nos 36.37. 104, 105, 136, 13/ and 145,
all adjoining, in the third District—Messrs .lames and Green
Wiggins, rear the premises, w ill show them to any person
wishing to purchase.
One settlement of 606 acres,inthc third District of Leo
-county, consisting of lots N°s- 167, 103 anti 108,
Lots Nos. 278 nml 279, in the fourth Dtsltict, Randolph,
containing 405 acres,
“ *• 87 and 106, “ “ lllh “ “ con
taining 405 acres,
“ “ 332 and 270, “ “ 4 th “ “con-
taining 405 acres,
“ “ 233 and 224, “ “ 4th “ Early, con
taining 500 acres,
“ “ 105, in the 3d District l/ne. containing 202 1-2 acres,
“ “ 270, in the 3d District 1-co, containing 2t'2 1-2 acres,
** “ 186, in the 3d District Baker, containing 250 acres,
«0 improved,
“ “ 262 in the 3<1 District Baker, containing 250 acres,
KO improved.—Mr. J:mies L. Boss, living in the 4th district
of Randolph, will show any of the Lands in I>-e and Ran
dolph.
Theabove Lands have nil been carefully selected, and are
•11 of the first quality, and will be sold on a long credit
ROBERT COLEMAN,
GEO. B. WARDLAW.
Also, one other settlement, containing 121*0 Acres, being
Iota Nos. 113, 144,145, in the 3d District Lee, Nos 295, 296
and 297, in the 4th district Randolph, all adjoining and
choice Lands, containing between 75 nnd 100 acres im
proved Lanil and a first rate Mill Sent, lo he sold oil another
account and on the same tenns.
GEO. B. WARDLAW.
April 17, 43—4t.
FOB SALE.
'll II AT beautiful, healthy, and commodious lot, on which
R- the subscriber now resides, at Midway, two miles
from Milledgeville, and a half mile from the site of Ogle
thorpe University. It contains ten acres, nnd has on it r
large,convenient, anti pleasant DWELLING HOUSE
with out houses, a well of exellent water, and a spring he-
aides many other advantages. For terms apply lo R. K.
Mims, Esq.
October9th, 1837.-16-tf JOHN A. CUTHBERT.
THE DEAN OF SANTIAGO.
It was but a short hour before noon when the
f ean of Santiago alighted from his mule at the
tTu*" ^° n ^ ul ‘ an » tf,e relebrated magician of
loledo. The house according to old tradition,
stood on the brink of the perpendicular rock,
winch now crowned with the Alcazar, rises lo a
fearful heigln over the Tagus.—A maid of moor
ish blood led the Dean to a retired apartment,
where Don Julian was reading. The natural
politeness of a Castilian had rather been im.
proved titan impaired by the studies of the Tol-
edan sage, who exhibited nothing either in dress
or person that might induce a suspicion of bis
dealings with the mysterious powers ofdarkness.
‘‘I heartily greet j our reverence,” suid Don Ju
lian to the Dean, “and feel highly honored by
this visit. What ever be the object ol it, let me
beg you will defer stating it till 1 have made
you quite at home in this house. I hear my
housekeeper making ready the noonday meal.
r|iat maid will show you the room which has
been prepared for j'ou; and when you have
brushpd off the dust of the journey, you shall
find a cannontcat capon steaming hot upon the
board.
The dinner, whi- h soon followed; was just
what a Spanish cannon would wish it—abun
dant, nutritive, and delicate. “No, no,” said
Don Julian, when the soup and a bumper of
Tinlo had recruited the Dean’s spirit, an a he
saw him making an attempt to break the object
of his visit; “no business please your reverence,
while at dinner. Let us enjoy our meal at pres
ent, nnd when we have discussed the olla, the
capon, and a bottle of Yepes, it will be time
enough to turn to the cares of life.
The ecclesiastic’s full face had never beamed
with more glee at the collation on Christmas eve
when by the indulgence ol the Church, the fast
is broken at sunset, instead of continuing
through the night, than it did now under Don
Julian’s good humor and heart cheering wine
Still it was evident that some violent and un
governable wish had taken possession of his it ind,
breaking out now and then in some hurried mo-
lion, some gulping up of a full glass of wine
without stopping to relish the flavor; and fifiy
other symptoms of a sence anil impatience;
which at such a distance from the cathedral
could not be attributed lo the afternoon bell.
The time came at length of rising ftom the ta
ble, and in spite of Don Julian’s request to have
another bottle, the Deacon, with certain dignity
of manner led his good tint urn I host to 'he teces.s
of tin oriel win low,looking upon the river. ‘“Al
low me dear Don Julian, to open my heart to
ton; for even your hospitality must fail to make
me completely happy till I have obtained the
boon which 1 came to ask. 1 know' that no man
ever possessed greater power than you over the
invisible agents of the universe. 1 die to become
an adept m that wonderful science, and if >ou
will receive for vour pupil, there is nothing, I
should think of sufficent worth to repay your
friendship.” “Good sir,” replied Don Julian.
“I should be extreme!, loth to offend you; but
permit me to say, that in spite of the knowledge
of causes and effects which I have acquired, all
that my experience teaches me of the heart of
man is not only vague and indistinct, but for the
most part, unfavorable. I only guess, I cannot
read their thoughts, nor prv into the recesses ui
their minds. As for vourselt i am sure you are
a rising man and likely lo obtain the first digni
ties of the church. Bui whether, when you find
yourself in places of high honor and patronage,
you will remember the humble personage, of
whom you now ask a hazardous and important
service, it is impossible for me to ascertain.’"
“Nav. nay,”exclaimed the Dean, “but I know
myself, if yon d<> not, Don Julian. Generosity
and friendship, (since you have forced me to
speak in my own praise) have been lite delight
of tny soul even from childhood.—Doubt not, rny
dear fiend, (for by that name ! wish vou would
allow me to call you ) doubt not from ibis mo.
ment lo command mv services. Whatever in
terest 1 may possess, it will l e my highest grati
fication to see ii redound i*favor of you and
yours.” “Mv hearty thanks for ull worthy
sir,” said Don Julian. “Bui let us now proceed
to business; the Sun is set, and, if you please,
you will retire lo mv private study ”
Lights being called for, Don Julian led the
way to the lower part of the house; • nd dismiss
ingthe Moorish maid near a small door, of which
he held the key in his hand, desired her to get
two partridges for supper, hut not to dress them
till he should order it; then locking the door, he
began to descend by a winding staircase. The
Dean followed wilha certain degree of trepida
tion, which the length of ihe stairs gieatly tend-
ed to increase; for, to all appearance they reached
below the bed of the Tagus. At this depth a
comfortable neat room was found the walls com
pletely covered with shelves, where Don Julian
kept his works on magic; globes, planispheres,
and strange drawings, occupied the top of the
book cases. Fresh air was admitted, though it
wo 'd be difficult to guess by what means, since
the souna water, such as is heard
at the lower part a ® hi P w,,e “ sailing with a
gentle breeze, indicated n ^'* n Petition be-
twen the subterraneous cabinet ant ^ l * ie r ' ve f‘*
Here then,” said Don Julian, offering .L’
to the Dean, and drawing another for himseu
towards a small round table, “we have only to
choose among the elementary works of the sci
ence for which you long. Suppose we begin to
read this small volume.”
The volume was laid on the table, and opened
at the first page, containing circles, concentric,
triangles with unintelligible characters, and the
well known signs ofthe planets. “‘This,” said
Don Julian, “is the alphabet of the whole sci
ence. Hermes, called Trismegistus.”—The
sound of a small bell within the chamber, made
the Dean almost leap out of Ins chair. “Be not
alarmed,” suid Don Julian; “It is the bell by
which my servants let me know that they want
to speak to me.” Saying this, l e pulled a silk
string, and soon aftet a servant appeared with a
packet of letters. It was addressed to the Dean.
A couriet had closely followed him on the road,
and was at that moment arrived at To'edo.—
“Good heavens!” exclaimed the Dean, having
rettt! the contents of the letters, “my great uncle,
the Archbishop of Santiago, is dangerously ill.
This is, however, what the secretary"says, from
his lordship’s dictation. But here is another let-
ter from the Archdeacon of the diocese, who
assures me that the old man is not exacted to
live. I can hurdlv repeat what he adds—poor
dear uncle ? The chapter seemed to have
turned tlie r eyes toward me, and—pugh! tt can
not be—but the electors, according to the Arch
deacon, tire quite decided in my favor.”—
“Well,” said Don Julian, “all l regret isthein-
tei rupt ion of our studies; but I doubt not that
you will soon wear the mitre. Ill the mean
time I would advise you to pretend that illness
does not allow you to return directly. A few
days yvill surely give a decided turn to the whole
affair; and at all events, your absence in case of
an election will be cons'rued into modesty.
Write, therefore, j'our despatches, mv dear sir,
and we will prosecute our studies at another
time.
Tyvo davs had elapsed since the arrival of the
messenger, yvhen the verger of the church of
Santiago, attended bv servants in splendid live-
ries, alighted at Don Julian’s door; yvitli letters
for the Dean. The old prelate was dead, and
his nephew had been elected by the unanimous
vote of the ehappel. The elected dignitary
seemed overcome by contending feelings; b«t, |
having wiped away some recent tears, he as-j
ABOLITION ANECDOTE.
Wo heard the following amusing anecdote re
sumed an air of gravitj', which almost touched lated a few davs since by a person who had it
on superciliousness. Don Julian addressed his | from a respectable source, and he assured us
congratulations, and yvas the first to kiss the new j that there is no doubt but the scene actually oc-
Archbishop s hand. “I hope,” he added “I may j curred. The tale is substantially as follotvs:
also congratulate my son, the young man yvho
Prom the. Massillon (Ohio) Gazette.
RETURN OF THE CAPTIVE.
Our citizens, yesterday morning, were intro
duced to the acquaintance of John Wood, a man
whose tale of sorrow, could not fail of interest
ing the heart, however prone to incredulitj’.—
an itinerant lecturer | A meagre sketch can only be given notv. The
ample history of his misfortunes may hereafter
tiuent conduct of ihe pseudo philanthropist, for
cing his disgusting and incendiary doctrines on
every one who had sufficient Datience or curi-
band of a young and interesting woman, and the
father of two infant children. He was living in
happiness en a farm which he had earned bv bis
osity to listen to him. The ‘ landlord whose ; industry, when the gallant Capt. Butler (who af-
Itouse was honored with the presence ot the ! terwards fell at ihe caj>ture ol the British bnite
lecturer, formed the plan of experimenting on
his professions of love for “Afric’s sable race.” j
In the evening the landlord called to him a co.
ries lit Fort Meigs) raised his flag, and solicited
i the hardy Kentuckians of Bracken county to en
roll themselves among the defenders of their
lored tnan. tunned Bill, who acted tts hostler or i country. John V\ ood was one ol the number.
man of all work, about the Inn, and ordered
him to wash himself yvell, put on a clean shirt
anil go to bed in a certain room which he men-
tioned. Bill acted as his master directed him.
and fell consi ‘erably “stuck up” with the sud
den change of sleeping apurtmenis, from tnc
kitchen loft to the best bed room in the house,
and attributed it all to tbe presence of his white
He suffered all the privations to which the ar
my ol the northwest was exposed during the dis-
as’rous campaign which rev/ltod in ti.e defeat of
Winchester at the River Raisin. By good for
tune he escaped the tomahawk of the savage al
lies of Great Britain, and was sent a prisoner of
war to Quebec.
fix.' was next, with other American prisoners,
friend, who had taken several opportunities i despaidiet.' in a transport to Plymouth in Eng
_ Some weeks sine'
is now at the University at Taris; for I flatter j of abolition visited the neighborhood of Ports-
myself your lordship wili give him the deanery, j mouth, Ohio, and put up at a public house with j he presented to the world—and, if given by a
: which is vacant by your promotion.”—Mv war- ! the intention ol enlightening the minds of the • master hand, will command the interest, and en-
j thy friend Don Julian,” replied the Aichbishop i public in regard to the oppression of his dark list the sympathy of the public, when the maw.
! elect, my obligations to you I can never sufli- , colored brethren and sisters, by a lecture to be ; kish productions of fiction, which now cumber
; cienily repay You have beard my character; i delivered the next day, on the cruelty and tyr- j our bookstores and insult our taste, shall have
I hold a friend as another self. But wltj’ should | anny of the whites in refusing to admit the ne- I become despised and fdrgotten.
you take the lad away from his studies 7 An ! gro to a perfect equality with themselves, in all I lo (he war ol 1812, John W ood, now fiftj -
arch bishop of Santiago cannot want preferment respects. Ail the vis : tors and btdgers in the j years old, was a j'oung and industrious farmer in
at any time. Follow me to my diocese; I will tavern were annoyed during the day. by imper- 1 Bracken county, Kentucky. He was the bus
not, for all the mitres in Christendom, forego ihe
benefit of your instruction. The deanery, to tell
you the truth, must be given to mv uncle’s own
brother, who has had but a small living for
many years; he is much liked in Santiago, a ;d
I should lose my character, if, to place such a
young man as yoursonat the head of the chap
ter, if I neglected an exemplary priest, so near
related to me. “Just as j-ou please, my lord,”
said Don Julian and began to prepare for the
journey.
The accumulation which greeted the new
archbishop on his arrival at the capital in Gala-
cia were not long after, succeeded by an univer
sal regret at his translations to tile see at the
recently conqured town of Seville. “I will not
leave you behind, said the archbishop to Don Ju
lian, who, with more timidity than he showed at
Toledo, approached to kiss the ring in the arch
bishop’s right hand, and to offer his humble cun-
grautlaiions, “but do not fret about your son.
He is too young, I have my mother’s relations to
provide lor; but Seville is a rich see; the blessed
King Ferdinand who rescued it from the Moors,
endowed its church, so as to rival the first cathe
drals in Christendom. Do but follow me and
all will be well in the end.” Don Julian bowed
with a suppressed sigh mid was soon after on
the banks of ihe Guadulquiver, in the suit of the
new archbishop.
Scarcely had Don Julian’s pupil been at Se
ville one year, when his far extended fame mo
ved the Pope to send him a cardinal’s hat, de
siring itis presence at the couri of Rome.—The
crowd ol visiters wito came to congratulate ihe
prelate, kept Don Julian a ivav fur m8»y days.
Heat length obtained a private audience, and.
with tears in his eyes, entreated Ins eminence
not to oblige him to quit Spam. “Iain growing
old, mv lord,”he said; I quitted rnj’ bouse at To-
ledo only for your sake, and tu the hopes of rais
ing my son to some pluee of honor or emolument
in the church; I emu gave up my favorite stu
dies. exeent so fat ar they were of use lo your
eminence. My son—no moie of that if you
please, Don Julian interrupted the Cardinal,
“Follow me you mu-l; who can tell what may
happen at Rome? The Pope is old, you know
But do not tease me about preferment. A pub
lic man has duties of a descriplion which those
in the lower ranks of life cannot even weigh or
comprehend. I confess l am under obligations
to you, and feel quite disposed to reward vour
services; vet I must not have creditors knocking
every day at mv do 'r: you understand, Don Ju-
lian: in a week we set out for Rome.
With such a strong tide of good fortune as had
hitherto buoyed up Don Julian’s pupil, ihe rea
der cannot he surprised to find him in a short
time wearing the papal crown. He is now ar
rived at the highest place of honor on earth; bii
in the bustle of the election nnd subsequent cor
onatl/iri, tie man to whose wonderful science tie
owed Ins tapid ascent had completely slipte-.d
oifhis memory. Fatigued with the exhibition of
himself through tlie streets of Rome, which he
had been </bilged to make in a solemn proces
sion. the new Pope sat alone in one of the ciiam-
bers of the Vatican. It was early in the night.
By the light of two wax tapers which scarcely
illuminated the farthest end of the great saloon,
his holiness was enjoying mat reverie of mixed
pain and pleasure wnieli follows the complete at-
tainmeni of ardent wishes, when Don Julian ad
vanced invisible perturba'iim, conscious of the
intrusion on which he ventrued. “Holy fa
ther!” exclaimed the old man, and cast himself
at his pupil’s leet; “Holy Father, in pity to these
grey hairs do not consign an oid servant—
might I not say at old friend!—to u'ter neglect
and forgetfulness? My son—”“By saint Peter!”
ejaculated Ins holiness, rising irom the chair
“your insolence shall be decked—you my
friend! A magician the friend of Heaven's
vicegerent!—Away, wretched man! What I
pretended to learn thee, it was only to sound the
abyss oferime into which thou hast plunged; 1
did it with a view of bringing thee to condign
punishment: Yet, in compassion to thy age, I
will not make an oxample of you, provided thou
avoidcst my eyes. Hide thy crime and shame
where thou canst. This moment thou must quit
the palace, or the next closes the gates of the in
quisition upon ihee.
Trembling and his wrinkled face bedewed
with tears, Don Julian begged to be allowed but
one word more. “I am very poor, holy father,”
said he; “trusting to your patronage I relin
quished my all, and have not left wherewith to
pay my journey”—“Away, I say,” answered
the Pope; if my excessive bounty has made you
ng.-'pet vour pa.’rbnony, I will no father en
courage vour waste a.'*d improvidence. Pov
erty is but a slight punishment for your crimes.
—“But, father,” rejoined Don Julian, “my
wants are instant; I am hungry: give me a tri
fle to procure a supper J° n'RhL To-morrow I
shall beg my way out ot Rome. “Heaven
forbid,” said the Pope, “that » ■■ , ''°uld be guilty
of feeding anally ofthe Prince ot ^Darkness.
Away, a way, from inv presence, or ' instantly
call for the guard.”—“Well, then,” replied D° [l
Julian, rising from the ground, and looking ° n
the Pope with a boldness which began to throw
his holiness into a paroxysm of rage, “If I atn
to starve at Rome, 1 had bailer return to the
supper, which 1 ordered at Toledo.” Thus
savmi. r , he rang a gold bell which stood on a
table next the Pope.
Tiie door opened without delay, and the
Moorish servant came. The Pope looked round,
anil found himself in the subterraneous study
iderthe Tagus. “Desire the cook ” said Don
Julian to the mud, “to put but one patridgo to
roust; for I wifi not throw away the other on the
Dean ol JSantiago.”
The supernatural machinery employed in the
preceding tale, oi the supposition that by some
means unknown the human mind may be sub
jected to a complete delusion, during which it
exist in a world for her own creation, perfectly
independent of time and space, has a strong hold
on wlmt migiil !>e called man’s natural preju
dices. Far from their being any thing revol
ting or palpably absurd in such an admission the
obscurity itself of the nature of time and space
and the phenomena of dreaming and delirious
miud are ready to give it a coloring of truth.
The success, indeed, of the tales which have
been composed upon that basis, proves how read
ily men of ail nges and nations have acknowl
edged, what we might call, its poetical truth.
The hint followed by Don Julian Manuel in the
Dean of Santiago, is lound in the Turkish Tales,
from wnich Addison took the story ofChahab-
eddin, in £fo. 94 of the Spectator. It is very
probable that the Spanish author teceivtd it
through the European customs, i he immita-
1 tions of the Spanish tale are numerous.
through the day, to imprest on Bill’s mind that
all men were equal, and that ihe laoi of a por
tion of society lasing blessed with a fairer skin
gave them no right to clairr. a superiority over
their less fortunate brothers and sisters of a dar
ker hue, and that naturally Bill and every oth
er gentleman of color, who performed the part
of servants to the whiles, tad the same rights
to respect an 1 privilege as their masters. Bill
saw the justness of his friend’s “equality” doc
trine at once, and when called by the landlord
was deciding in his own mind, in what manner
he would propose to his masters change in their
respective staiioua; he to assune the duties of
hostler and his employer take u; the curry-comb
and brush—“tiinu about’s fair play,” thought
Bill. In the evening when the lec'urer wished
to retire the landlord conducted him to his cham
ber, and showed him the b*d he was to occu
py. After he had disrobed (imself and turned
down the clothes to get in.«* ted, be started back
wi'h astonishment un beholciug his friend Bill
in snug possession of one lulf it, who invited
him with a familiar nod to grt iu. The abo!i-
tionis' cast a look of scorn “n poor Bill, and
demunded of the landlord what he meant by
giving him a “nigger” fa* a bedfellow; he was
answered with bis “eqimfity” argument. “Bill’s
person was healthy, he tad on a clean shirt,
was not addicted to any ugly habits iu bis sleep,
nnd mure than ali, was me of the “proscribed
and injured race” for whon ihe gentleman pro
fessed such ardent love; hie last consideration
ought to make Bill a welcome companion to the
‘ lodger.”
The enraged philanthropist could not stand
this practical test of his doctrine, but let loose his
wrath on the landlord: “Sir, I tell you I will
not put up with this unpHrolelted indignity,—
whoever heard of such insolence!—putting a
gentleman to sleep will a filthy nigge !”
“And let me tel! you air,” replied the land
lord, “that with that ‘nigger’ you’ll have to sleep
if von sleep at all; In- is as clean in his person
and cloth' s as you are yourself, und in every
other resp-ct, according to your own preaching,
hois your equal, so hop in anil embrace your
b-other, for mos' ceitainly he shall be your
companion until morning.”
The abolitionist threatened, raved and coax
ed, but all would not do—the inndlord was in
exorable, he was determined to moke his lodger
practice what he preached, and the crestfallen
abolitionist was compelled to take his place a-
lonrrside ol his sooty friend, where he lav till
morning, enduring feelings that cannot be de-
scribed He was kept in a state of continual
restlessness through the whole night, repelling
Bill’s familiarities, and keeping the negroe’s
woolly bend out of his face. He rose ai the
dstwn of day while his comrade, “all in black,”
with n mind free from all the perplexing cares
of life, was enjoying “the honey-heavv dew of
slumber, culled for his bill and left the town.
The lecture was consequently “indefinitely
postponed.”
Bill relates, with great importance, the dis*
Anguished honor conferred on him hy being the
bedfellow of Mr. , but says the comfort
is no' so much to be desired, as the “gemman
kicked most almightilv and Lad a ’stremlv bad
bref, dat however is ’tribuiable to his while ex-
1 raction.”—Pittsburg Manufacturer.
Strawberries.—The Edilor of the Vermont
Farmer, n gentleman celebrated for his Horti
cultural knowledge, gives the following infor
mation, in regard to the cultivation of this de
licious fruit. There is no state in the Union
in which it could be brought to greater perfec
tion than this:
As soon as your bods are bare in the spring
spread over them a slight covering of straw,
and set fi r e to it. This w ill consume all the
decayed leaves, etc., left last season, and leave
the whole neat and clean. Then spread on a
little fine manure from the yard, or ashes,
(which answers quite as well) and then a cov
ering of chaff’, sav two inches thick. This me
thod is said to bring forth the plant and fruit
earlier; it makes the latter large, and of a bet
ter quality. It keeps the fruit clear and ripens
it finely. The burning over is recommended
bv Dr. Miller, of Princeton, and other experi
enced cultivators. The use of the chaff is
practised by the editor of the Southern Agn-
CO,'jurist, (he uses rice chaff, who last year gath
ered IrvT'o half an acre of plants 48 bushels of
the finest fi.'iit. It was sold for 25 cents a quart;
and yielded therefore the aggregate sum of
$360.
People of Importance.—Nobody likes to he
nobody, but everybooj 7 is pleased to think
himself somebody, and everybody is somebody;
but ilte worst of the matter is, that when any
body thinks himself to be somebody, he is tin,
much inclined to think everybody else to be
nobody.
A CUNNING ROGUE.
A clerk yesterday coining down Wall st»'?et
lo make a deposite, had Itis bank book peering
and peeping from his coat pocket while lie stop
ped to gaze at the numerous caricatures near
the new Custom House. A well dressed rogue
came up behind him quietly, and while winking
and smiling to the mob, and inviting them by
signs to look at a neat trick, he slipped the bank
book out of the pocket without disturbing the
clerk, who was still gazing at the pictures.—
The bystanders, believing him to be an intimate
friend of die clerk, were highly tickled at the
trick, and laughed and chuckled at the anticipa-
ted surprise of the clerk. The rogue walked
slowly ahead turned smilingly to tha crowd, put
his finger upon his lips to unjoin silence, and
actually disappeared with a large sum in bank
notes, thus obtained openly while hundreds were
looking on. No one knew who lie was, nor tins
the money been recovered. It was a bold and
vet a dexterous robberv.—N. Y. Star.
land. From Plymouth, accompanied by a crowd
of fellow prisoners, he was about to be transfer
red to Dartmoor, when h.e found an opportunity
to elude his guards and make his escape. He
wandered through the country., stealing through
byways, until ho found himsei/ at Bristol.—
Hunger compelled him to enter a grocery, tiie
head quarters of a press gung. Here he was
pressed, and despite his protestation* that he
was a citizen ofthe United Stales, and a fugitive
prisoner of war, facts which might have been
easily proven by reference to the military au
thorities at Plymouth, he was hurried on board
His Majesty’s frigate Sc-a Horse, then the flag
ship ofthe celebrated Sir Peter Parker, and com
pelled to bear arms against his own couutry-
men. .
On board the Sea Horse were several other
Americans, who, like Wood had fallen victims
to the British system of impressment. They de
tennined on desertion; and when lying in the port
of St. Johns, they succeeded in securing a boat,
in Hn extremely da k night, and attempted to
reach the eastern coast of the state of Maine.—
They were pursued, and were oblig'd to desert
their bouton thesboieofNew Brunswick,& seek
safety in the woods. After wanderiug about for
two da vs exhausted wn it cold and hunger and fa-
tigue, they were apprehc nded by a party of Brit
ish soldiers and again transferred to the Sea
Horse. The punishment that followed this act
of desertion, was inflicted with all that ingenious
refinement of cruelty for which the British navy
is so celebrated.
The Sea Horse, attached to the squadron un
der Admiral Cockburn, was shortly alterwards
ordered into the Chesapeake, and took active
part in the robbing, burning, and murdering the
defenceless inhabitants ofthe const. Mr. Wood
and the impressed Americans were never per-
mitted to leave their vessel. He was on board
the night when Sir Peter Parker met his faie on
shore. A few dayssuhsequent to this event, he,
in company with seven other impressed Ameri-
cans, attempted an escape in bioad daylight, by
boldly jumping into h boat along side and pull
ing rapidly for the shore. One of the number
was sho' by the sentinel on duty. The others
reached the beach, but were apprehended, im
mediately on landing, bj’ a party of marauders
belonging to the Sea Horse.
By order of admiral Cockburn, they were
sent in irons to Nova Scotia, where, after under
going a trial, they were sentenced to be shot.
The sentence, however, v ts commuted to ser
vice for life, in his Brittanic Majesty’s army in
the East Indies. They were accordingly ship
ped to England, and thence with a regiment of
newly levied recruits, despatched to Calcutta.—
For 21 years, Mr. Wood served as a private
soldier in the East India service; and 18 months
since when broken down in spirit and in consti
tution, he was permitted to sail for England.—
Destitute and heart broken, he reached London,
stated his case to the Unil<*d States consul, nnd
by him was furnished with the means of reach
ing New York. He left New York in January,
and is wending his weary pilgrimage towards the
home of his childhood.
It is now twenty-six years since he left his
wife and children in Kentucky; and notone syl
lable has he heard, relative to their situation
since the moment of their separation. The cit
izens here forced a few dollsrs upon him, for,
poor and decrepid as is, he still possesses all
the pride of a Kentuckian, nnd sent him on his
way in the stage to Wellsville, from which town
he intends to embatSt on a steamboat for Augus
ta. in Kentucky.
Fancy cannot help asking—what is now that
home to which the war.broken wandered is re-
turning? Will the wife of his youth be ready,
in the fidelity of Hfer eaily love, to hail the re
return of her long-lost husband? Or will her
duty and affections have beet given to another?
Or will she be reposing beneath the clods of the
valley? And his children?—If living, they must
have long since entered upon the busy scenes of
life. Will they take the weary pilgrim to their
homes and to their bosoms? A thousand over,
powering emotions must rush upon the o!d man’s
heart, as his weary footsteps approach the spot
that once was home! Fancy cannot fill the
picture. May He who “tempers the wind to the
shorn lamb,” support the aged wanderer in that
eventful moment, which is soon to witness, eith
er die ecstacy of his happiness, or the utter deso
lation of his hopes.
Prom the Boot of Politeness.
POLITENESS AT HOME.
The truly polite person is polite everywhere.
He does not reserve his good breeding for great
occasions, or put it on only when he puts on Ins
dress coat. At home as well as abroad, he
practises the rules of politeness, which he has
taken care to render habitual.
Towards ull the members of one’s own farni
I.V one should habitually be governed bv laws of
civility not less precise than those which govern
the intercourse of general society; but modified
bj - a degree of tenderness mingled with respect,
which cannot be claimed by common acquaint
ance.
To your father you should show a degree
of respectful deference, to which no oth
er person is entitled. Hia opinions should bo
received with submission, und his advice with
gratitude and attention. His foibles, if perceiv
ed, should be concealed more carefully than
your own. Hiscomfort and convenience shouldj.
be studied on every occasion, and vour own
should be cheerfully sacrificed to promote them.
Your mother may perhaps be treated with more
freedom, but with mote tenderness. Happy is
the mother to whom her children render the un
reserved homage ofthe heart. Oilier relations,
as uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, and cousins,
claim attention and respect in proportion to the
dignity and worth of their characters or the
nearness of their relationship. They should al
ways receive a preference over common ac
quaintance in respect to visits, invitations, and
other attentions ofthe same kind. This is the
law of nature; and however its violation may be
seemingly passed over, the worl J never forgives
a man for slighting those connected with him by
ties of consanguinity.
The politeness which should govern the con
duct of mnrried people towards each other is one
of the most important elements of conjugal feli
city. Men who lay aside all the civility which
they practised before marriage, as soon ns the
nupital knot is tied, and substitute for it ihe most
unlimited freedom of behaviour, will soon find
that familiarity breeds contempt nnd leads to dis
sension. A certain degree of respect is consis
tent with, and indeed essential to, a well regula
ted affection, and a man should prove by itis at-
tenilnu to the laws of politeness in the presence
of his wife that he understands the truth of tbe
obsei vation “hb w ho >s a gentleman at all, is a
gentleman at all times.”
To descend to a few particulars. conver-
sation at the fireside and at tuble, j"'5 u should
choose such topics as are most likely to interest
your wife, as she will be likely to observe the
same rule towards yourself. If she should hap
pen to have chosen some subject in which you
nre not interested, you should not make her sen
sible of her mistake by inattention or lisllessness
in your manner.
End'-avor to render your meals social as well
as physical repasts; and by no means indulge in
the unsocial habit of reatiing a book or a news,
paper while you are taking your coflee. 1 huve
known ladies who made it a rule always to lay
down '.heir book when their husband came into
the room; and they bad no reason to regret this
mark of attention.
A married person should respect the letters,
and avoid searching into the secrets, which may
be concealed from a sense of delicacy, by his or
her partner. It is not less important to avoid
s|X Hking before otln-rs, of what it is unnecessa
ry they should know, of domestic concerns, nnd
to nbstain from undue or unseemly marks of af
fection in public or before indifferent persons.
Many more particulars might easily be enu
merated; but a genera! disposition to promote
the happiness of one’s partner, not only by solid
kindness, but by delicate attention, will go far to
fulfil the laws of politeness for married people.
succeeded, whicli greatly injuried vegetation i»
the surrounding country.
HOW TO CHOOSE A GOOD HUSBAND'
When you see a young man of modest, m*
spectful; retiring manners, not given to pride, lo
vuniry, or flattery, he will make a good hus
band; for he will be the same kind man towards
his wife alter marrisge that he was before it.
When you see a young inan of frugal and
industrious habits, no “fortune hunter” but who
would take n wife for the value of herself, and
not for the sake of Iter wealth, that man will
make a good husband, for his affection will not
decrease, neither will he bring himself or his
partner to poverty and want.
When you see a young man, whose manner#
nre of the boisterous and disgusting kind, with
“brass” enough to carry him any where, and
vanity enough lo make him think every one in
ferior to himself—don’t marry him, girls, he
will not make a good husband.
When you see a young man, who is using
his laist endeavors to raise himself from ohscii-
ritv to credit, character, and affluence, by bis
own merits, marry him; lie will make n good
husband, and one worth having.
When you see a young man depending sole
ly for his reputation and standing in society,
upon the wealth of his father or other relation#
—don’t marry him, for goodness’ sake; he will
make a poor husband.
When you see a young man one half of his
time employed in adorning his person, or riding
through tiie streets in gigs, who leaves hisdebt#
unpaid, although frequently deniutided 1 —never,
never do you marry him; for lie will in evec/ r
respect make a b.,d husband.
When you see a voting man who never enga-
ge.-> in ;my affravs or quarrels bv day, nor fol-
ie.s by night, and whose general conduct is nos
of so mean a character as to make him wish ter
conceal his name; and does not keep low com
pany, nor break the Sabbath, nor use profane
language, but whose face is seen regularly st
church where lie ought to be—he will certainly
make a good husband.
W en a voung man, who is below you in
wealth,offers you marriage, don't deem it a dis
grace but look into Itis character; and if you
find it correspond with these directions, take*
him, nnd yoi\ will get a good husband. ’
Never make money an object of marriage^
for if you do, depend upon it, as a balance for
the good, you will get a bad husband.
When you see a young man, who is attentive
and kind to his sisters, or aged mother; who iW
not ashamed to be seen in the streets with the
woman who gave him birth and nursed him,
supporting her weak and tottering frame upo*
his arm, and who will attend to all her little*
wants with filial love, affection nnd tendernes*
—take him, girls, who can get him; no matter
what his circumstances in life, he is truly worth
the winning, and will in certainty make a good
husband.
Lastly, always examine into character, con.-
duct and motives, and when you find these good
qualities in a young man, then may you be sure
ho will make a good husband.
[Grcenville Mountaineer+
One good turn deserves another.—Santcuil,
a poet of the 17th century, returning one night
to the Abbey of St. Victor, at 11 o’clock was
refused admittance by 'he porter, on the plea
that the prior had absolutely forbidden the doors
to be opened at so late an hour. A good deal
of altercation ensued; at last the poet slipped a
piece of gold under the door, which was quick-
lj r opened. When fairly in, he pretended he
had left a book on the stone where he bad been
sitting during the dispute, and begged the por
ter to go for it. Encouraged by the generosity
of the poet, the man readily complied. In the
meanwhile Santeuil fastened the door, and the
porter, half naked, was obliged to stand knock
ing in his turn. “I cannot let you in ” said the
poet; “I am very sorry for it; but the prior has
given positive orders not to have the door open
ed at so late an hour.” “I let you in,” said the
porter, in a verv humble tone: “So you did,”
replied Santeuil, “and I will do you the same
good turn for the satoe price.” The porter,
not liking to sleep in the street, and tearful like
wise of losing his place, slipped the piece of
gold under the door again, saying, “ I thought
a poet’s monej- would not stay long with me;”
and so gained admittance.
GENUINE AND TRUE.
A j'oung man who boarded at a house in the
country, where were several coy damsels, was
one forenoon accosted by an acquaintance and
asked what he thought of the young ladies. He
replied they were very shy and reserved.
‘‘So they are,” returned the other, “and so
much so, that no gentleman could get near e-
nough to tell the color of their eyes.”
“That may be,” said the boarder quickly,
“yet I will stake a million that 1 can kiss them
all three without any trouble.”
“That you cannot do,” cried his friend. “It
is an achievement which i either you nor any
other man con accomplish.”
The other was positive; and invited his friend
to the house to witness his triumph. They en.
tered the room together, and the three girls were
ail at homo sitting beside their mother, and they
all looked as prim and demure as John Rogers
at the stake.
Our hero assumed n very grave aspect, even
to dejection—and having looked wistfully at the
clock, breathed a sigh as deep as algebra, and
«s long as a female dialogue at the street door.
His singular deportment now attracted the at
tention of the girls, who cast their slow opening
eyes upwards to his countenance. Perceiving
the impression he had made, he turned to his
companion and snid in a doleful voice—“it wants
three minutes of the time.”
“Do you speak of dinner?” said the old lady
putting down her sewing work.
“Dinner,” said he with a bewildered aspect,
and pointing unconsciously, with curled forefin
ger at the clock.
A silence ensued, during which the female
part of the household glared at the young man
with irrepressible curiosity.
“You will S' e me decently interred,” said he
turning again to his friend.
His friend was as much puzzled as any body
present, and his embarrassment added to the in
tended effect. But the old lady being no longei
able to contain herself, cried—
“Mr. C , pray what do you speak of?”
“Nothing,” answered he with a lugubrious
tone, “but that last night a spirit appeared to
me;” here the girls rose to their feet and drew
near—“and the spirit gave me warning that I
should die at exactly* twelve o’clock to day, and
you see it wants but half a minute of the
time!”
The girls turned pale nnd their hidden sym
pathies were soon awakened for the doomed and
departing one. They stood chained to the spot,
looking alternately at he clock and the unfortu
nate youth, he then walked up to the eldest of
the girls, and taking her by the hand, bade her
a solemn farewell. He also imprinted a kiss up
on her trembling lips; which she did not attempt
to resist.
He bade the second nnd third farewell in the
same tender and affectionate manner. His ob
ject was achieved, and at that moment the clock
struck twelve.
Hereupon he looked around surprised, and
ejaculated, “who would have believed that an
apparation could tell such a lie. It was probab
ly the ghost of Ananias or Sapphirn.”
It was smne time before the sober maidens un
derstood the joke, and when they did they e-
vinced no resentment. The first kiss broke the
ice, and thanks to the ghost, they discovered that
there was some pleasure in the pressure of a
bearded cheek.
Birth, Parentage, and Education of a Book.
—The- fwllowing twenty-five occupations are on*
gaged in rhe production of a book:
The author, the rag merchant, the paper ma
ker, the st.ttioirer, the quill dresser, the ink ma
ker, type founder, the press maker, the roller
maker, the chase maker, the pressman, the com
positor, the reader, the folder, the gatherer, the
stitcher, the twine maker, she thread merchant,
the leather seller, the binder, the coppersmith,
the designer, the engraver, the copperplate prin
ter, and the bookseller.
Common Sense.—Fine sense and exalted
sense are not half so valuable as common sense;
there arc forty men of wit, for one man of sense;
and lie that will carry nothing about him but
gold, will be every day at a loss for want of
readier change.
Late English papers state that the town of
Dumfries was visited with a violent storm, du
ring which there were vivid flashes of fire, (so
says the account,) without thunder; and, strange
to say, showers oi" snow fell at the same time.
On tiie clearing up ef the storm, a hard frost
SHORT SERMON.
The following pithy s/umon, from a pithy text,
has been published in England, and has mot with 1
a very extensive circulation in that country:——
“Be ,so^er, grave, temperate.”—Titus ii. 9.
I. There arc three companions with whom
you should always keep on good terms.
1st, Your Wile,
2nd, Your Stomach.
3d, Your Conscience.
2. If you wish to enjoy piece, long lifer,
and happiness, preserve them by Temperances
Inleniperence produces,
1st, Domestic Misery.
2J, Premature Death.
3d, Infidelity.
To make these three points clear, I refer you,
1st, To tiie Newgate Calendar, the Old Bai«
ley Chronicle, und the Police Reports.
2d, To the Hospitals, Lematic Asylums, and
Workhouse; and
3d, To the past experience of what you haver
seen, road, and suffered, iu mind, body, and es
tate.
READER DECIDE,
Which will you choose/—Temperance, wilf»
happiness and long lite, or Intemperance, with
misery and premature death?
Poor Jack.—The following interesting s’ory
was related a few years ago, at the Brighton
Bible Meeting, by a stranger, ubo requested
permission to address the company:—‘The child-
of a drunken sailor asked (urn for bread. Irri
tated by bis request, the dissolute father spurn
ed him from him with his foot, and the ehm#
fell into the sea from the beach. Nothing could
be done from the shore, and he soon disappear
ed; but the arm of Providence was extended
over him, and by clinging to an oar, or raff,-
that he came near, he floated till picked up by
a vessel then under weigh. The child could
only tell his name was Jack, but the humanity
of the crew led them to take care him. Poor
Jack, as he grew up, was promoted to wait on
the officers, received instructions easily, was
quick and steady, and served in some actions.
In the last lie had obtained so much promotion,
that he was appointed to the care of the wound
ed seamen. He observed one with a Bible un
der his head, and showed him so much atten--
lion, that the man, when lie was near dying,,
requested Jack to accept this Bible, which had
been the means of reclaiming him from the-
ways of sin. By some circumstance, poor Jack
recognized his father in the pendent sailor!”—
Thus far the tale excited so much interest, that
when the speaker saw the effect it had produced'*
he, with a modest bow, added, “Ladies and getw
tieinen, I am Pa ir Jack!"
CULTURE uF THE CUCUMBER.
I will state a fact relative to the planting of
cucumbers which came under my observation,-
and which is worthy of being known. I shall
at least give a further trial myself of its reality;
though I cannot conceive there is a doubt re
maining on the subject. La>t spring, a fnew#
of mine, and'myself were planting cudi-mltere
at the same time. I was planting mine, a»i:r
usual, in gardens, by m xiiig a small portion
of stable manure w ith the earth, and raising the
hill an inch or two above the surface ot the'
ground. Observing it, he jocosely remarked,
“Lot me show you how to raise cucumbers!’*
Never having much luck in raising them, 1
cheerfully agreed to his proposition. He com-'
mcnccd by making holes in the earth, at the dw---
tance intended for the hills, that would hotd ate
bout a peck—he then filled them with dry leach
ed ashes, coverinir the ashes with a ver^ small
quantity of earth. The seed were then planted
on a level with the surface of the ground.- I was
willing to see the experiment tiied, but had no
expectation of any thing but a loss of seed, labor
and soil But imagine my astonishment, (not
withstanding a drier season never was known,
and almost a universal failure of garden veget
ables,) when I beheld vines, remarkably thrifty7.
and as fine a crop of cucumbers as any one need
wish to raise, and continued to bear for n very
long time, unusually so in fact. J will not philo
sophise or moralize on this subject, but say to>
all, try it—and instead of throwing your ashes
in a useless hear* tostumblc over, near your doer*
put it to its proper use and reap your “rteh re-
ward.”—Ohio Former,