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LITEJiAfiY J'cmpfrana (Crusader. PBWFIELD, .GEOBaiA. h. LINCOLN TEAZEY Editor. THURSDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 4, 1858^ Ocb readers will no doubt be disappointed at uot finding anything from our associate Editress, Mm. Bryan, in the present Issue. We hod allot ted the portion of the first page which is devoted to reading matter to her; but unfortunately, all the communications which she has sent for this paper are entirely too long to be compressed in so small a space. Rather than spoil them by divis ion, we have concluded to let them lie over for the present. Hereafter, however, our readers may expect to find these colu “its filled by the chaste productions of her pen. On the first page will be found “The Recompense” by Emma Em erald, which is continued from our third number. We regretted exceedingly having to separate it, but under the circumstances it was unavoidable. Our correspondents must bear in mind that we are publishing a newspaper, not a hundred-paged magazine. We will be extremely thankful to any and all who have the ability to write, to favor us with their contributions; but be short. The exercises of our University were resumed on the Ist inst. under very favorable auspices. The old students, with but few exceptions, have returned, while a very respectable number of new ones have presented themselves as candidates for admission. With an able, experienced and laborious Faculty, Mercer University yields pre cedence to no Institution in the South, in point of advantages for securing a thorough education. Our Pastor is in ecstasies. Broad smiles of joy illuminate his ahvays-good-natured countenance from the rising to the setting of the sun. You can perceive at a hundred yard’s distance that he is vastly tickled about something. Whence all this happiness? A man-child has been born into the’ world, who, if no ill befall, may ere long salute his ear with the long coveted name, Father! So mote it be. The present winter has been as unprecedented for the mildness of the weather as lor its extreme severity in monetary matters. As yet, we have had no weather that could be called cold. We see that many of our contemporaries are deprecating in very lugubrious style the failure of the ice crop. In our view of the case, there is no crop with which we could more readily dispense. A failure of the fruit crop, which is very likely to transpire, would be a much more serious loss. Did you ever, reader, calculate the cheapness of a newspaper ? Do so; it will open your eyes to some facts which you have not hitherto consid ered. The paper you get for two dollars a year costs you four cents a copy, or a little over twice what the paper cost before a mark of ink had been impressed upon its surface. A vast amount of mental labor, which you cannot estimate, has been expended in the preparation of the matter. Perhaps the brief paragraph over which you glance in fifteen minutes required hours to be written. Then the labor of the compositor—the patiently-taking down and setting up thousands of small pieces of metal—must be performed. Take all these into consideration, with many other outlays which have to be made in getting up a single number, and you will come unavoida bly to the conclusion that a newspaper, be it good, bad or indifferent, is the cheapest bargain a man can make. “ All right” is once more the cheering sound in our office. We have buffeted through our sea of troubles and again stand on safe ground, we hope, free from such troubles for some time to come. One iasue we have had to lose, but this we hope to make up to our readers, if not in number, at least in quality. Our Printers are now up, and, alas! “ copy” has assumed its same old dismal sound. ANGRY WORDS. poison drops of care and sorrow. Bitter poison drops are they— Weaving for the coming morrow Sad memorials of to-day. Angry words! Oh, let them never From the tongue unbidden slip— May the heart’s best impulse ever Check them e’er they soil the lip. What a hateful, disagreeable thing is an angry word. How entirely different, both in char acter and results, from the kind language of ben evolence, or the soft word that turneth away wrath. It is one of the worst forms of speech that can proceed forth from the mouth of man. It is doubly cursed ; it brings to the speaker re morse and shame, often bedewing his cheek with the tear of repentant guilt; and it draws up the heart s bitterest waters in the breast of him to whom it is addressed. The lash or the dagger are ofttimes less cruel than an angry word. “Anger is a brief insanity,” was sung by the most charming of Latin Poets; and who is there that ever experienced this most disagreeable of passions who will not endorse the remark? Then, all the higher faculties of the mind and the best feelings of the heart are subjected and hushed by one mastering emotion. Reason, conscience, judgment are all powerless in the fierce tumult. The claims of friendship or the pathetic appeals of suffering are alike disregarded. In moments like this, a man often commits deeds which an after-life of contrition and virtue cannot expiate. Anger has played no insignificant part in the history of mankind. Upon the vast stage of hu man action, it has too often rendered life a trag edy, the scenes of which were made up of thril ling horrors. It has hnbruted man's nature and i caused him to perform deeds of cruelty which might cause.demons to weep tears of blood. It has created within him a savage malignity that would enable him to look with a smile at the con * vulsions of his agonized victims and listen to their dying gasp with keen delight. It has driven him on in a course reckless alike of fame and for tune, outspeeding even the tempting phantoms which led him on to destruction. Nothing has ever been too sacred to feel the withering power of its curse. It has broken the bonds of the most closely connected brotherhood and arrayed in deadly hostility those whom religion should have united in the holy links of love. Than anger, a more fell agent never rose from the lower pit to blast man’s happiness and ruin his soul. There is, however, a legitimate indulgence of anger, and when confined to this, no evil conse quence may result. The principle of resentment was not implanted in man to lie forever dormant. There are times when a man is not only justifia ble in bring angry, but it is actually a matter of duty that he should be so. But he must be care ful that it be not untimely or unproportioned to Hhe cause. It is this difficult exercise of power that renders it more glorious for one to govern his own spirit than to conquer a city. “Bo angry *md sin not,” is the injunction of scripture; and he Vq, obeys it must not indulge that anger wAich murder a bosom-friend in its high *rrought phrensv. j. But anger is neitiitv safe or desirable even where, in its exercise, we could be blameless. It is never a source of happii^i;—never eases one heartach; and though it may avenge an injury, it cannot take away its sting or repair the mischief. If resentment be necessary for defence, let the feeling subside when the wrong is averted, and permit not the sun to go down upon your wrath. The late insurrection and war in India has ren dered that country as much talked and writ i ten of as in the days of Warren Hastings and the Begums. All the British periodicals are teeming with articles on the country and the character, manners and customs of its inhabitants. Al j though the English have been settled in Hisdos | tan for more than a century, it is yet to a great extent an unknown land to the nation generally, j and still more so to us. Hence, many of the des criptions of its scenery and institutions are full of I interest and novelty. We take from a paper in Blackwood the following account of CASTE IN INDIA . “This institution divided mankind arbitrarily into four classes, all separate, and differing in rank, degree and privileges: and asserted as its principle, that this division emanated from Deity itself. There was the first or superior class, to whom was attached a holiness which was supposed to place them above the common laws of human ity. These issued forth, ‘twas believed, from the mouth of the god, and were the expressions of his will and wisdom, and to them was intrusted the interpretation and legislation of Divine laws. They were the Brahmins, the hereditary priests, judges and legislators, who alone had access to the iioly books, and to whom was attributed a sanctity and precedence which placed a xj one of i the order, however low his office might be, above kings, princes or civil dignitaries. From the arm, the limb of might, came the Kshukuaa,, the re- | presentatives of power, the warriors, the rulers, , the executors of law and property. These formed | the second order. The Brishyas, the artists, ar- | tisans, traders, agriculturists sprang from the ; thigh and constituted the order of industry and skill. From the foot, the lowest member, crawled the Soodras, the hewers of wood and drawers of waters, the diggers and delvers, the men whose destiny it was to serve their brethren. Here we have a priesthood, aristocracy, a middle and lowe n class—no uncommon ordination among men. ; But in the hereditary transmission of a class, in j the inviolable maintenance of its privileges and j distinctions, we see a principle which has seldom * been long adhered to in the polities of the world. The same distinctions have often existed,- but they have generally been established by circum stances, and been open to change and compe tition, and been attached to position. The king was king in rank and authority ; the noble was noble in station and precedence; the trader stqod according to his grade; and any man ris ing from one class to another would assume the superiority of the grade which he had attained. The system of caste fixed at man’s birth the class to which he and his were to belong forever. No circumstances, no individual energy or act, could change his destiny. Crime might degrade him, but no merit could raise him. The law of caste did not (as is ofton supposed, and as it did in the polity of Egypt) restrict men to their hereditary pursuits, bat it enacted that the distinction should cling to him, whether king or menial. The Soo dra might, and did, especially in the latter days, attain power and sovereignty, but he was still a Soodra. The lowest Brahmin Beggar would des pise him as inferior, and refuse to eat with him, or sit on the same mat.” In another article in the same number, we find the following description of THE CHURRUK POOJA OR WHIRLING WORSHIP: “ The devotees at this festival allow two large iron hooks to be fastened into the fleshy part of their backs, immediately below the shoulder blades; a linen bandage is then frequently (but not always) tied over the part to prevent the flesh giving way; after which the devotees are hoisted, by means of a rope attached to a high pole erec ted on a platform, to a fearful height in the air, and made to gyrate in wide circles. They gener ally remain up, swinging about, for fifteen or twenty minutes, but they are lowered at any time on their making a sign. Instances sometimes oc cur in which the flesh and muscles of the Oack give way, and the devotee is dashed to the ground with fatal violence; but accidents are rare, and the ordeal is not regarded with the apprehension or aversion which we should expect. In many cases the saints are “ old hands,” who perform the rite from motives of gain and reputation, and who go through their martyrdom with great cheer fulness and self-satisfaction. Seldom do even novices wince when the hooks are fastened, and the subsequent swinging in the air is invariably borne with composure, often with enthusiasm. Sometimes the devotee smokes his pipe while whirling in his lofty gyrations! It is usual for the devotee to take up with him fruits and flow ers in his girdle, which he throws down to the crowd, who—especially the female portion—laugh ing and shouting with delight, rush eagerly to catch them in their hands, or in umbrellas inver ted to receive them. Sterile women are especially anxious to obtain the fruit scattered by these de votees of Siva, as a means of wiping away their reproach ; and wealthy childless ladies frequently send their servants lo the festival to procure some of the auspicious fruit for their mistresses to eat. Rewards in a future life are thought to attend the performance of this singular worship; but with the exception of what may bo called the professional martyrs, the greater portion of those who go through the Churruk Pooja do so in ful filment of a vow made to obtain some temporal good. The purely disinterested motives and ten der affection displayed in many of these cases cannot fail to excite our warmest sympathy. Among the votaries at one of these festivals, we read of a man who, though childless himself, had vowed to undergo the torture in order to save the life of a younger sister’s child. * The sister, with her little one in her arms, perfectly restored to health, was present; and her looks sufficiently bespoke her intense gratitude and love for the self denying brother who thus redeemed the vow he had made for her sake.’ The next was ‘a young, delicately-formed, sweet-looking woman, who of fered herself to this exposure and agony for the sake of a relative no more nearly connected with her than her husband’s brother.’ Another rotary was an aged mother, whose prayers (she believed) had saved the life of her-son. ‘The vow had been made, and the deliverance affected, eleven years before; but the poor people had never been able till then to incur the expenses of the offering to the god, and the feast with which these solemnities are always closed. With the utmost heroism this aged woman endured the whole, shouting aloud with the spectators, and scattering her flowers with flurried enthusiasm. Her son, a man of thirty years, was present; and in a state of greater excitement than his mother, to whom he paid the most anxious attention, and to whose devotion he evidently believed he owed the continuance of his life.” The same writer has a beautiful paragraph on THE UNIVERSALITY OF WORSHIP : “How striking a proof is it of the strength of the adoring principle in human nature—what an illustration of mankind’s sense of dependence upon an unseen supreme—that the grandest works which the nations have reared are those connected with Religion! Were a Spirit from some distant world to look down upon the sur face of our planet as it spins round in the solar rays, his eye would be most attracted, as the morning light passed onward, by the glittering and painted pagodas of China, Biovneo, and Ja pan—the richly-ornamented temples and stupen dous rock shrines of India—the dome-topped mosques and tall slender minarets of Western Asia —the pyramids and vast temples of Egypt, with their mile-long avenues of gigantic statutes and sphinxes—tho graceful shrines o’’ classic Greece—the basilacas of Rome and Byzantium— the semi-oriental church-domes of Moscow—the Gothic cathedrals of Western Europe—and as the day closed, the light would fall dimly upon the ruins of the grand sun-temples of Mexico and Peru, where, in the infancy of reason and human ity. human sacrifices were offered up, as if the All-Father were pleased with the agony of his creatures! Nowhere has that adoring principle reared grander temples than in India. Egypt may surpass them in vastness, and Greece out does them in lovely symmetry; but as exhibiting a marvellous combination of grandeur, beauty and variety, the religious edifices of India find no parellel in any single country. The stupendous rock-temples of Bombay—the magnificent and lofty-doomed topes of Ceylon—the gorgeous sculp ture-covered shriees of Southern India—the all elliptical temples of Orissa—the lovely and ex quisitely finished ones of Guzerat, combine with the Mohametan mosques and Minarets of Hin dos tan to form an unsurpassable assemblage of architectural art and skill.” Sunflower seeds are said to be the best known remedy for founder in horses. As soon as ascer tained he is foundered, mix one pint of the Beed whole with the feed, and an entire cure may be expected. A land speculator out West, in defending his “track” against the charge of insalubrity, declar ed it was so healthy “around there,” and so dif ficult to die, that the inhabitants had to draw \ thfeir last breath with a corkscrew. INK - PRO P 8 . Thought, quickened by umpiring fancy’# touch, Feefs all her inward force and boundless range, Surmounts the earth and bathes herself in clonds. ■* ‘Twould take angel from above To paint th’ immortal soul.” There are well-springs of feeling in the breast of every man which the world knows not, and of which he may be unconscious until some circum stance shall arouse them to a living flow. Some are fresh and pure as the underground fountain ,on which a sun-ray has never lighted or a fetid vapor blown; others as foul as the dark cess-pool in which every corrupting sediment has found a lodgment. Some, like the bright bubble of ocean ; foam, glitter afar off, but when touched are full of emptiness. The sum of their existence is to show, and when the light sheen that made them noticed has departed, they are no more. There is not on earth a greater joy than the contemplation of a human heart as it was in its pristine purity, or as it would be now, if relieved of the corrupting passions that enthral its pow ers. All forms of material beauty, when compar ed with this, sink into insignificance in their power of conferring pleasure. The sun’s rise in glory and his setting in splendor, the clouds painted in a thousand mystio dyes, the flowers, arrayed in vestments of more than regal splendor, apeak not to the inner soul as eloquently as a heart in which pure innocence has mode its abodes. Such may never be seen in our present state of existence; but we can well imagine it to be one among the joys which render Heaven a neat of bliss, There is something grand, but solemn, in draw ing aside the veil which education and fashion have thrown over the human heart and gazing on the unfathomed depths within. In many cases, It would be more of a pain than a pleasure. Much that is sorrowful to contemplate would be seen. In many would be found a wild desert waste, where not a flower has survived the primal fall; and even though here and there one blooms in beauty, the loathsome trail of the serpent has marred its loveliness and left its venom there. Alas! how many glean the poison, but pass the flower unheeded. Some men dye their thoughts only in the black fluid that fills their inkstands, while others tinc ture each in the heart’s rich Every character that they impress upon the virgin page is a living, speaking messenger from the inner self, whose essence is far hidden in the recesses of mystery. Like spirits of the vasty deep, they require some magic influence to bring them from their haunts; but when brought out, they deliver their responses with far more clearness than was ever spoken from the shrines of heathen temples. He alone who has held frequent communion with those can teach in song what he has learned in suffering, and he alone is nature’s true poet. Mehorv is often as pleasant, and always a more safe companion of the soul, than hope. Hope sometimes conjures up bright visions, which, like enchanting tempters, lead the man on to the com mission of blackest crimes. But memory posses ses a moral power. Who can sit on the grass grown mound where a mother reposes, think of her sweet, ealm smiles, and her soft, kind voice, and then go away with one evil thought in his heart! Ah! the joys of fruition may be unspeak able, and the Illusions of hope brilliant; but when memory stretches her wand over departed years, she evokes a train of spirits that impress upon the soul lessons useful for time and eternity. Time spent in her high communion is never wast ed. It brings forth a harvest of beauty, love and virtue that shall last forever, Evbrv act is the father of another, perhaps of thousands. Sin begets sin and virtue begets vir tue. Birth is not an accident, nor indeed is any other event of human life. The waves of influ ence may Bpread from the slighest circumstance until they spread far into the ocean of eternity. CLIPPED ITEMS. A tine may be remembered when a chapter U forgotten, Lucy Stone’s Property Sold foe Taxes. The celebrated Lucy Stone, who resides at Orange, New Jersey, having refused to pay her tax bill, because she is not allowed the right of suffrage, her property was seized, and on Friday sold by a constable at public ven due. The New York Post says : “ The sale tcok place on the front piazza. The first article offered was a marble table worth about sl2, which was started at $6 and knocked down at $7 30. The next articles were two steel-plate likenesses, one of Gerritt Smith, and the other of Gov. Salmon P. Chase, which were sold together, $3. From these sales, a suf ficient sum was realized, and a small balance was paid to Lucy. She told the constable that 1 next year, and the year following, and every year, until the law was changed, the same thing would have to be done.’ He replied, that he would let someone else have the job, as it was not a pleasant duty for him to perform. He then carried back into the house, the articles of furniture that had not been sold, and seemed glad to get away, after vindicating the majesty of the law m so satisfac tory a manner. The public of Orange, we learn, will soon hear from Mrs. Lucy Stone, on this subject, at a meeting she intends to call.” Lowell Mills.—The number of mills in Lowell is fifty-two, the capital stock of which is $13,900,000. The average wages of females clear if board, per week, is $2; of males per day, clear of l oard, 80 cents. The increase in the population of L \vell for the last ten years was 12,595. Mobile now ships annually, 600,000 bales of cotton. The merchant who made the first shipment of cotton from that port, is now living and engaged in business. The first vessel he loaded with cotton, he had to send to Now Orleans to get 400 bales to fill up. Sea Island Cotton Growing in Texas.—The Nett ces Valley urges the people of that vicinity to plant Sea Island cotton, which, it says, can be raised there of the finest quality, as several trials have already proved. It is reported that Capt. Cone and his command in Florida, had been taken prisoners by the Indians, and that a large force was preparing to go to the rescue. The Salisbury mills have made a contract with the War Department of the United States Government, for ten thousand yards ol flanel, and six thousand yards of cloth. Capt. Nathaniel Webster, agent of the cotton duck mills, at Groveland, Mass., has secured a contract for the manufacture of sixty thousand yards of duck. Weather in Florida.—A letter from Florida, dated the Bth inst. says: “It has been very warm all winter; peach trees are in full bloom, and all kinds of trees are out like May. People are very busy gardening.” Mortality of Atlanta, Ga.—The total number of burials in Atlanta, during the year 1857, was 179; whites 132—blacks 47. So says the Sexton’s report. Negro Thieves Escaped. —Six negro thieves broke jail in Pensacola on the 18th. Their names are Chas. Groover, Leonar Singletary, Miles Franklin, Micajah Andrew, Rix Gaylor and W. Laird. The three great apostles of practical atheism, that make converts without persecuting, and retain them without preaching, are wealth, health and power. Tho advantage of living, does not consist in length of days, but in the right improvement of them. It is stated that two of the best retroportorial seats in the new Hall of Representatives, are to be assigned to the lady correspondents of the Charleston Courier, and Boston Post, Miss Harriet Fanning Reade, and Miss Windle. In one of the courts, lately, there was a long and learned discussion, as to whether a witness should be allowed to answer the question, “ Whatdid Mary say?” Three judges gave long and elaborate opinions in the affirmative, and the question being repeated, the answer was, “ Not a word.” Help others and you relieve yourself. Go out and drive away the cloud from a distressed friend’s brow, and you will return with a lighter heart. He who marries for beauty only, is like a buyer of cheap furniture—the varnish that caught the eye, will not endure the fireside blaze. “ Industry must prosper.” as the man said, when holding the baby for his wife to chop wood. Hon. David S. Reid, U, S. Senator from North Caro lina, has been seriously ill at Richmond. The mind, like the soul, rises in value, according to the nature and degree of its cultivation. A wag says, of a certain congregation, that they pray on their knees on Sundays, and on their neighbors the rest of the week. A certain cockney bluebeard, overcome by his sensi bilities, fainted at the grave of bis fourth spouse. What can we do with him ? asked a perplexed friend of his.— I “Let him alone,” said a waggish bystander, “he’ll soon I revive.” OHOICE SELECTIONS. description of Milton’s Readme*. I set ourin th* morning, in company with a inend to visit & place where Milton spent some part of his life, and where, in all probability, he composed several of his earliest productions'. It is a small nUage, situated on a pleasant hill. *- £ut three miles from Oxford, ahU called Forest Hill, because it formerly lay contiguous to a forest, which has since been cut down. The poet chose this place of retirement after hia first marriage and he describes the beauty of his retreat in that fine passage of his L’Allegro .- -Someiimes walking, not unseen. By hedgerow elms, or hillock green. * e e - * * While the ploughman, near at hand. Whistle* o’er the furrowed land, And the milk-maid singing blithe, And the mower whets his scythe ; And every shephered tells his tale, finder the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eyes hath caught new pleasures, While the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns, and fallow’s gray, Where the nibbling docks uo stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim, with daises pied, Shallow brooks and river# wide ; Towers and battlements it sees, Bosomed high in tufted trees. * e * * * * Hard by a cottage-chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged oaks,” etc. It was neither the proper season of the year, nor the time of day, to hear all the rural sounds and see all the objects mentioned in this description; but, by a pleasing concurrence of circumstances we were saluted, on our approach to the village with the music of the mower and his scythe ; we sa w the ploughman intent upon his labor, and the milk-maid returning from her country em ployment. As we aseended the hill, the variety of beautiful objects, the agreeable stillness and natural simplicity of the w’hole scene, gave us the highest pleasure. We at length reached the spot whence Milton undoubtedly took most of his images. It is on the top of a hill from which there is a most extensive prospect on all sides ; the distant mountains, that seemed to support the clouds ; the villages and turrets, partly sha ded by trees of the richest verdure, and partly raised above the groves that surrounded them; the dark plains and meadows of a grayish color, where the sheep were feeding at large ; in short, the view of the streams and rivers convinced us that there was not a single useless or idle word in the above mentioned description, but that it was a most exact and lively representation of na ture. Thus will this fine passage, which has al ways been admired for its elegance, receive an additional beauty for its exactness. After we had walked, with a kind of poetical enthusiam, over this enchanted ground,, we returned to the vil lage.—Sir William Janes. I I John Anderson, my Jo. This exquisite ballad, constructed by Robert Burns out of a different and somewhat exception able lyric, has always left something to be wished for and regretted. But who would venture to add to a song of Burns ? As Burns left, it runs thus : John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first sequent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent ; But now your brow is bald John, Your locks are like the snow ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my Jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We’ve had wi’ ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, fiut hand in hand we’ll go, And sleep thegither at the toot, John Anderson my Jo. Fine as this is, it does not quite satisfy a contem plative mind : when one has gone so Jar, he looks and longs for something more—something beyond the foot of the hill. Many a reader of Burns must have felt this ; and it is quite probable that many have attempted to supply the deficiency; but we know of Only one success in so hazardous an exper iment. This is the added verse:— John Anderson, my jo, John, When we have slept thegither The sleep that a’ maun sleep, John. I We’ll wake wi’ ane anither : And in that better warld, John, Nae sorrow shall we know ; Nor fear we e’er shall part again, John Anderson, my jo. Simple, touching, true—nothing wanting, and nothing to spare; precisely harmonizing with the original stanzas, and improving them by the fact of completing them. This poetical achieve ment is attributed te Mr. Charles Gould, a gentle man of our town, whose life has been chiefly devo ted to the successful combination of figures —but not figures of rhetoric. The verse was written some years ago, but it has not hitherto found its way into print; yet it well deserves to be incor porated with the original song in an / future edi tion of Burn’s Poems, and we hope some publish er will act on this suggestion.— Home Journal. Old Psalm-Tuna. Blackwood says of old pslam-tunes: “There is to us more of touching pathos, heart-thrilling ex pression, in some of the old pslam-tunes, feelingly displayed, than in a whole batch of modernism; the strains go home—the ‘foundations of the great deep are broken up;’ the great deep of unfathomable feeling, that lies far, far below the surface of the world-hardened heart; and as the unwonted, yet unchecked tear starts in the eye, the softened spirit yields to their influence, and shakes off the load of earthly care, rising purified and spiritualized into a cleaver atmosphere. Strange, inexplicable associations brood over the mind, ‘like the far-off dreams of paradise,’ mingling their chaste mel ancholy with a musing of a still subdued, though more cheerful character. How many glad hearts, in the olden time, have rejoiced in these songs of praise—how many sorrowful ones sighed out their complaints in those plaintive notes that now, cold in death, are laid to rest around that sacred church, within whose walls they had so often swelled with emotion 1” Encouraging to Young Men. —Never content yourself with the idea of having a common place wife. You want one who will stimulate you, stir you up, keep you moving, joke you on your weak, points, and make something of you. Don't be afraid you cannot get such a wife. I very well remember the reply which a gentleman who hap pened to combine the qualities of wit and com mon sense, made to a young man who expressed a fear that a certain young lady of great bequty and attainments would dismiss him, if he should become serious. “My friend,” said the wit, “in finitely more beautiful and accomplished women than she is, have married infinitely uglier and meanner men than you are."— [Timothy Titcomb .] A Beautiful Faith. —“Beautiful,exceedingly,” is the burial of children among the Mexicans, No dark procession or gloomy looks mark the pas sage to the grave; but dressed in its holiday attire, and garlanded with bright, fresh flowers, the little sleeper is borne to its rest. Glad songs and joyful bells are rung, and lightly as to a festi val, the gay group goes its way. The child is not dead, they say, but “going home.” The Mexi can mother, who has household treasures laid away in the campo santo —God's sacred field— breathes a sweet niith, only heard elsewhere in the poets utterance. Ask her how many children bless her house, and she will answer: —“Five; two here, and three yonder.” So, despite death and the grave, it is yet an unbroken household, and the simple mother ever lives in the thought. The following genuine incident is of some interest. It is said that Theodore A. D’Aubigna, in 1623, married the widow of Caesar Balbmi. He was seventy-one. She was sixteen years younger. Tho marriage was performed during the course of usual service on Sunday. The min ister preachced from the text, “ Father forgive them, for they kow not what they do. Ibis irri tated D’Aubigna beyond measure, and he com plained to the Senate of Geneva, who forced the minister to apologize. In doing so, he protested that lie had no intention of offending, and. that the words complained of belonged to a portion of Scriptures which he had been occupied on succes sive Sundays in expounding. The time to eat. —An eminent English surgeon, Sir Charles Landram asserts that the only time at which hearty meals should be eaten is just previ ous to retiring for the night.— Exchange Paper. A friend of oufs acted on the above suggestion a few nights ago. He told us h© fancied ho was changed into the fabled Prometheus—that he dreamed he had swallowed “four and twenty Steam Doctors all in a row” and that they were tugging at his liver the whole night with their long and fiery—bills. He says he does not recol lect whether or not they received pay for their la bors and bills.— Columbus Enquirer. MILADIES’ OLIO.”* j Waatsd, a wtb! “Ralph Bedbloasom,” a racy correspondent of “Life Illustrated,” thus makes known his want of a wife. Are there any readers of our Olio who can give him any information as to where he may obtain this desideratum ? we fear that tlio number of those wliq can furnish testimonials which will secure his hand, is growing ‘small by degrees and beautifully less : I wish somebody would make me a New-Year's j present of.* good wife ! Here lam, nearly thirty j years old, and an old bachelor yet. I’m sure it’s t not ww fault. I can't at all relish coming home ; at night to a lonely room, and yawning all the b< ? k ’ without a soul to speak to. I don t fancy darning my own stock mgjaand sewing on my own shirt-buttons. Board inghouse hfe isn’t the greatest luxury in the world, especially when the invalid chairs and broken ta bles m the establishment are pensioned off in your room; and the Biddy uses your hair-brush, and anoints herself with your millefkurs! I'd like a rosy little wife, and a cheerful home, as well as anybody. I'd like to think, at my dai ly labors down-town, of a pair of bright eyes, looking up and down the street to see if Cm penn ing, of kettle singing at the fire, and a pain of slip pers put down to warm by hands that exactly correspond with the bright eyes ! But I don't know where the good have all gone! I have read of them, and heard about them, and I know they once existed, but the race is now extinct. I’ve examined all the young ladiqp of my acquaintance, and not one of’ them realizes my idea of what a wife should be. 1 want a gentle, loving companion, to sit at my fireside, cheer my existence, console my sorrows, and share my joys—an economical, domestic qui et helpmate, to make a home for me. Ah, if I could only findsueh a person ! I don’t want a wife who goes rustling about in satins and silks—who plays piano and don’t know how to make a shirt—who can embroider on velvet and paint in water-colors, and has’nt the least idea of the jngredients necessary to form an apple-pie 1 I don't want a wife who dances the Laricers with a hole in the toe of her silk stocking. I don't want a wife who is too “nervous” to Bee to the affairs of her household, but who is perfectly capable of fashionable dissipations—who goes into strong hysterics because I don’t engage a box at the op era, and shops on Broadway, wasting all my in come in “great bargains!” and I don’t want a wife whe reads novels and works in worsted, with a poodle in her lap, while the meat is burning down-stairs in the kitchen, and the pudding is baked to a cinder! There’s the catalogue of what I don’t want, and now I will enumerate the things I do want. I want a neat, stirring little wife, whose nicely fitting dress is made by her own hands—who can make a loaf of bread, roast a turkey, or cook a beefsteak—who regards a hole in her husband’s coat as a reflection on her own housewifely char acter, and who can talk about literary news, and even politics, as well a< about new dresses and new fashions—who is a lady in the kitchen as well as in the parlor, and who looks upon a husband as something nearer and dearer than a mere ma chine to pay her bills, and hold her fan and hand kerchief at parties 1 Now, Mr. Editor, do you know of any such wo man as this ? My female acquaintances are all pretty wax-doll creatures, with white, richly-ringed hands and pale faces, who don’t know exactly where the kitchen is, and would faint away if you mentioned a wash-tub or a frying-jmn in their presence ! They are very passable drawing-room ornaments, but as to ever becoming thrifty, credi table wives, one might as well marry the revolv ing ladies in the windows on Broadway ! Won’t somebody give me a bit of advice ? Am I to die an old bachelor, or am I to marry a huge crinoline, an infinitesimal bonnet, and a pair of yellow kid gloves, with a woman inside of’em ? Ralph Redblossom. Right appropriately after this come Mrs. El lis’ remarks to the future wives of England, which are still more applicable to the rising generation of American females. Read it, young ladies, and ponder it, as sound advice by one of the wisest of your sex: My pretty little dears, you are no more fit for matrimony than a pullet is to look after a family of fourteen chickens. The truth is, my dear girls, you want, generally speaking, more liberty and less fashionable restraint; more kitchen and less parlor; more leg exercise and less sofa ; more making puddings and less piano ; more frankness and less mock modesty ; more breakfast and less bustle. I like the buxom, bright-eyed, rosy cheeked, full-breasted, bouncing lass, who can darn stockings, make her own frocks, mend trousers, command a regiment of pots, and shoot a wild duck as well as a Duchess of Marlbro’ or the Queen of Spain, and be a lady withal in the drawing-room. But as for your pining, moping screwea-up, wasp-waisted, putty-faced, music murdering, novel-devouring daughters of fashion and idleness, with your consumption-soled silk stockings, and calico shifts, you won’t do for the luture wives and mothers of England.— Mrs. Ellis’ Lectures. A Mother’s Love. —What sweat poetry is con tained in those three little words. Is there a sentence to be found in any language that is more replete with sentiment, beauty, grace, or finish ? A mother’s love I How noble! How self-sacrifi cing ! How unceasing are her efforts in guiding aright the footsteps of her children ! What priva tions will she not endure ; what perils will she not encounter for the sake of her “loved ones !” From our earliest infancy ’tis our mother who watches over us With untiring devotion ; who notes every change in our looks, both in sickness and health, and, with loving arms twined arouud us, bids us nestle close, close up to the breast. And oh ! with what perfect confidence we nestle there ! Fearing nothing, caring nothing, only to be folded more closely and feel the warm pres sure of her lips upon our cheeks. How our hearts bouhd beneath the lovely glances of her soul-lit eyes, as she bends them upon us beaming with a light so pure and holy ! With what delight does she listen to our childish prattle, and observe each winning grace ! How fondly she gazes upon us, and what a glorious future she paints for us! Then, as the thought comes that, as we ad vance in yearn, she may be taken from us, and we be left to the cold charities of this world, her heartfelt prayer ascends to the Throne of Grace, beseeching Him to guido and direct our steps, so that we may be prepared to meet her in a bright er and better world. Sorrows may come upon us, friends may forsake us, and the world pre sent not one cheering ray, yet will our mother cling to us with a love so abiding that her cheering tones and loving words make us forget the world’s rude and bitter jests. Never, on this earth, can we find a friend so steadfast, and one in whom we can repose such perfect confidence as our mother. How holy is a mother’s love I The fate of a Flirt. —lt is very rarely that a confirmed flirt gets married. Ninety-nine out of every hundred old maids may attribute their an cientioneliness to juvenile levity. It is certain that few men make a selection from ball-rooms or any other place of gaiety ; and as few arc influen ced by showing offin the streets, or any other al lurements of dress. Ninety-nine hundredths of the finery with which women decorate and load their persons go for nothing as for as husband catching is concerned. Where and haw, then, do men find their wives ? In the quiet homes of their parents or guardians—at the fireside where the domestic graces and feelings are alone demon strated. These are the charms which most sure ly attract the nigh as well as the humble. The ignorance of young ladies brought up to thump pianos, read love-sick novels and entertain young gentlemen with moustaches, is astonishing. The other day one of this class threw the milk in tended for tea out of the window because it had a yellow scum on the top. A woman is neither worth a great deal or nothing. If good for nothing, she is not worth getting jealous for ; if she be a true woman she will give no cause for jealousy. A man is a brute to be jealous of a good woman—a fool to be jeal ous of a worthless one—but is a double fool to cut his throat for either of them. Fanny Jones says that when she was in love she felt as if she was in a tunnel, with a train of cars coming both ways. Jaimicks says that when he was in love he felt as if he were being hung—and had a cat in his bat and a peck of -bumble bees under his waistcoat. Jaimicks knows the symp toms. Juliano says that she felt—oh my—as if she were a bower of moonbeams sinking into a bath of effulgent honey beneath a blaze of balmy i stars to the tones of slow music. FARMER’S COLUMN. ■ < > i--H —V- . . COMMERCIAL. . F*b.. Cotton. —Sales yesterday afternoon, 126 bales: 5 at# ; 60 at 9jj; 3atWt 4at IQ4; and 7 fancy at IQic. Soles this morning 546 bales : 7at 8*; 20 at 9; Bat f# 28-100 ; 30 at 9s; 73 at 9f ;66 at 9f ; Bat 9f ; 63 at 10; 37 at 101; 98 at 10*; 61 at lOg cts. The demand is good and prices very dull, with an ad vancing tendency. We quote 7to B*c for inferior to or dinarv ; middlings 9* to 10*c ; middling fair l©ft~ . J Savannah, F*fe. 1. CoUov.— We have to report a brisk enquiry, and pri ces Jc. better. The sales foot 1,060 bales ft the follow ing particulars : 15 at 8; 7 at. 84 ; 13 at 8*; 48 at 8f; 49 at n ; 28 at 9* ; 24 at 9 9 15; 28 at 9s; 143 at 10{ 148 at 10 4; 113 at lOf ; 223 at 10$ ; 154 at 10*; Sat 10f; and 68 bales at 102. ; ‘ Augusta Price* Current. WHOLESALE PBICES. -.’ } j BACON.—Hams, ft 13 $ 14 Canvassed Hams, ®ft 16 to 17 Shoulders, p ft Western Sides, ft 11 to 124 Clear Side 9, Ten it., ft 00 to 00 Ribbed Sides, alb 11 @ 12 Jiog Round, new, $4 ft 12 to 00 FLOUR.—Country bbl 525 to 600 lennessee J) bbl 562 to 560 City Mills fi bbl 575 to 750 f‘ owah .. bbl 600 750 Denmead s $ bbl 600 to 75 ORATNr r 1 bbl 700 to 750 U “^lN.— Corn in sack bush 55 to 60 Vheat, white $4 bush 1 05 to 1 19 Si? ft 95 to 105 fi bush 45 to SO p ye ¥ bush 70 to 76 L eas M bush 75 to 85 THOM 4 $ bush 65 to 75 IRON.—Swedes ft 54 to 94 English, Common. M ft 34 to “ Refined, 3ft ft 35 to lard- ia, fin MOLASSES:—Cuba % ga | 25 28 St. Croix gal 40 Sugar House Syrup $ gal 42 to 45 Chinese Syrup f* ga J 40 S 50 SUGARS.-N. Orleans {ft _g _ Porto Rico aft 8 to ft Muscovado jft ft g a Refined C sft 11 <$ 114 Refined B 13 ft 11 to 18 Refined A %> lb Hi & lit Powdered lb 12 to ‘ 13 a % Bhed $ I* ® 13 r>ALl.— sac k jgo to 1 lo COFFEE.—Rio ib 114 to 124 Laguira §ft JJ* J g Jav ft 16 % 18 To Make Excellent Vinegar.—ln a wellglazed vessel mix one-lialf gallon of luke warm water with half pint of New Orleans or West India mo lasses. Set in a store room in cool weather, If the mixture is not disturbed in six weeks it will form an excellent vinegar. After standing a few weeks it will also from a mother, with the use of which any quantity of vinegar can be made in three weeks, by adding the mother to a mixture of warm water and molasses (in the same propor tion as above) and allowing it to stand undistur bed tor three weeks. Simple as this process seems, we are assured that it is entirely efficaci ous, and it. is certainly bettter to try the experi ment than to drink the mixture of vitriol and water sold for vinegar in the cities. The Value of Indian Corn. For the following interesting information in regard to this little understood kind of food, we are indebted to Hunt's Magazine : “By those who do not know, or are too scientific to proflit by the experience of nations of men and and herds of fat cattle, Indian corn, rice, buck wheat, &c., are only considered ‘good fodder/ Liebig states that if we were to go naked as the Indian, or if we were subject to the same degree of cold as the Samides, we should be able to con sume the half of a calf and a dozen candles a sin gle meal. During excessive fatigue in low tem perature, wheat flour fails to sustain the system, This is owing to a deficiency in the elements nec essary to supply animal heat, and the strong de sire for oleaginous substances, under these cir cumstances, has led to the belief that animal food is necesrary for human suppoi't. But late scien tific experiments and a better acquaintance with the habits of the North American Indians, have shown that a vegetable oil answers the same pur pose as animal food ; that one pound of parched Indian corn, or an equal quantity of corn meal made into bread, is more than equivalent to two pounds of fat meat. “Meal from Indian corn contains more than four times as much oleaginous matter as wheae flour, more starch, and consequently capable of producing more sugar, and though less gluten, In other important compounds it contains nearly as much nitrogenous material. The combination of alimentary compounds in Indian com, renders it the only mixed diet capable of sustaining man under the most extraordinary circumstances. In it, there is a natural coalescence of elementary principles which constitute the basis of organic life, that exists in no other vegetable production. In ultimate composition, in nutritious properties, in digestibility, and in its adaptation to the varied necessities of animal life to the climatesftof the earth, corn meal is capable of supplying more of the absolute wants of the adult human system than other single substance in nature.” Cheap Hot Beds—German Plan. j “Take white cotton cloth of a close texture, j stretch and nail it on frames of any size you wish j take two ounces of lime water, four ounces of lin seed oil, one of white of eggs, mix the lime and oil with very gentle heat, beat the eggs separate ly, and mix them with the former ; spread this mixture with a paint-brush over the cotton, al lowing each coat to dry before applying another, until they become water proof. The following are advantages this shade possesses over glass ones : 1 The cost being hardly one fourth. 2. Re pairs are easily and cheaply made. 3. The light. They do not require watering, no matter how in tense the heat of the sun, the plants are never struck down or burnt, or checked in growth, nei ther grow up long, sick, and weakly as they do under glass, and still there is abundance of light . 4. The heat rising entirely from below, is more equable and temperate, which is a great object.- The vapor rising from the manure and earth is condensed by the cool air passing over the sur face of the shade, and stands in drops upon the inside; and therefore the plants do not require as frequent watei'ing. If the frames or stretchers are made large, they should be intersected by cross bars about a foot square, to support the cloth. These articles are just the thing for bringing for ward melons, tomatoes, flower seeds, &c., in sea son for transplanting.” The Sugar Crop of Louisiana.— lt is stated in the New Orleans Crescent that the sugar crop of Louisiana for 1857 will be from 225,000 to 250,000 hhds., against about 75,000 hhds. in 1855. Prioee are of course much lower than last year; but nevertheless, planters will realize about *2,000,000 more from the crop of this season than from that of 1856, while consumers will also gain largely. Lard and Resin for Tools. “A penny saved is two pence earned.” Not less than SSO,(XX) worth of valuable tools belonging to the readers of the American Agricul turist, (less than $2 each) will be spoiled or ma terially injured, simply by rusting between now and next spring. The damage alone will be $60,- 000. Look at the plows, harrows, cultivators, hoes, shovels, forks, chains, axes, saws, not to e numerate wagon irons, and a multitude of little tools that ought to be provided on or about any form, and then reckon up how many of them will b<| left where the combined effect of air and mois ture will attack their surfaces and eat away e nough to render them rough at least, if not to materially depreciate their value. Many instru ments are destroyed faster by lying idle than they would be by constant wear. We will not now write a homily upon the value and importance of a tool house, and of having every implement stored in it, but give a recipe for an exceedingly simple, cheap and effective preparation, one avai able to all, which will at least save all metals from loss by rust. Take about three pounds of lard and ono pound of resin. Melt them together in a basin or kettle, and rub over all iron or steel surfaces in danger of being rusted. It cqn be put on with a brush or piece of cloth, and wherever it is ap plied it most effectually keeps air and moisture away, and of course prevents rust. When knives and forks, or other household articles liable to become rusted or spotted are to be laid away, rub them over with this mixture, and they will como out bright and clean, even years afterwards. The coating may be so thin as not to be perceived, and it still will be effectual. Let every one keep a dish of this preparation on hand. As it does not spoil of itself, it maybe kept ready mixed for months or years. Mem. Fresh lard, containing no salt, should be used. Resin is a cheap article and can be obtained almost anywhere for four to six cents per pound.— American Agriculturist.