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Officers Augusta W. T. A Society. I
Dr. JOS. A. EVE, President.
Dr. DANIEL HOOK, i !
Rev. WM. J. HARD, > Vice Presidents i
HAWKINS HUFF, Esq. )
W-'l. HAINES, Jr. Secretary.
L. D. LALLERSTEDT, Treasurer.
Managers:
James Harper. E. E. Scofield,
Rev. C. S. Dod, James Godby,
John Milledge,
If ini £
We believe that a pound of fine Ma-j
rino wool may be raised in that part of;
the south suitable for keeping sheep, as
cheaply as three pounds of cotton can be
grown. The former would be worth 40
cents on the plantatjpn at the lowest, the
latter not to exceed 12 cents, which
makes a difference in favor of wool
growing of more than 300 per ct.
But we hear the planters say, well,
when we get to raising wool, the price of j
that must fall too. Suppose it does ? It
will still be a profitable business even at
20 cents per pound; for sheep will on
rich your lands and fit them for other j
good crops, while cotton impoverishes
them. Yet so long as we import wool, j
(which wo still continue to do.) there is i
little prospect of its becoming lower; |
and when we have supplied ourselves,
we can then look abroad lor a market.
Great Britain imports nearly, it not
quite, 50,000,000 lbs. annually, and
France a considerable quantity. Here,;
then, is a chance ot a market tor a long
time ; for wc only raise now about three
fifths of what Great Britain alone im
ports, and it would be years belorc we
could reach the production of 50,000,-
000. In the meanwhile it must be re
collected that our own consumption is
rapidlv on the increase. Space forbids
our pursuing this subject any further in
this No., but we intend to revert to the
general subject of growing wool in our
next. — American Agriculturalist.
X. E. flutter Making.
Wc extract from the Report of State
ments, presented by the Committee of
the Essex Agricultural Society, on the
Dairy, such portions as will be most in
teresting to our readers:
“ The Committee on the Dairy, in pre
senting their Report, would remark that
the first prerequisite in making good but
ter is to have good cows. Cases have
occurred where a cow has been kept for
years with several othets and their milk j
put together, on using it separately, it
was found that butter could not be made
from it.
The kind and quantity of salt used, is
of much consequence. The Liverpool
hag salt should be rejected ; it contains ,
impurities, and will not preserve butter, j
Rock salt perfectly pulverized, and three
fourths of an ounce used to a pound of.
butter, will preserve it well.
Process of making Butter by some of those
who gained the Society's premiums. j
By George W. Dodge. —The milk is
strained into tin pans, where it stands
from thirty-six to forty-eight hours, when I
it is skimmed and the cream put into tin
pails, standing on the bottom of a cool
cellar. A little salt is added to the cream
which is frequently stirred. We churn
twice a week. AA hen the butter comes,
the butter-milk is thoroughly worked out,
and the butter salted with an ounce to the
pound. After twenty-four hours it is j
again worked and weighed.
By Mrs. Abi Worchester. —The cream
was churned twice a week, then the but
ter was washed in cold water. One ounce ‘
of fine butter salt was used to one pound
of butter, and well worked in After it
had remained twenty-four hours, it was
worked over and packed down solid in
a stone pot and covered with strong brine.
By Paul Pillsbury. —The milk is
strained into tin pans and stands thirty
six hours. The cream is then taken off
and put into a tin firkin, and kept until it
is ready to be churned, which is twice a
week. The butter is well rinsed in cold
water and then sailed with one ounce of
salt to a pound of butter. In about
twenty-four hours it is worked again und
packed down and kept on the bottom of
the cellar, covered with fine salt. The
feed of the cows was a common pasture.
Value of the Willow.
The importance of the willow to man
has been recognised from the earliest
age, and baskets made from willow trees,
were probably among the first of human
manufactures, in countries where these
trees abound. The Romans used the
twigs for binding their vines and tying
AUSUSTA WASiNGTQMFi
WEEKLY PAPER: DEVOTED TO TEMPERANCE, AGRICULTURE, & MISCELLANEOUS READINGS.
Vol. Hl.]
their reeds in bundles, and made all sorts
of baskets of them. “ A crop of willow,” !
says an ancient writer, “ was considered j
so valuable in the time of Cato, that he j
ranked the salitum, or willow field next i
in value to the vineyard and the garden.” j
In France, the leaves, whether in a green
or dried state, are considered the very
best food for cows and goats, and horses
l in some places are fed entirely upon
them, from the end of August till Novein- j
I her. Horses so fed, it is stated, will trav- ]
jel twenty leagues a day without being
fatigued. The bark of the willow and
also the leaves, are astringent, and the;
bark of the most sort may he employed ;
in tanning. AA’iil some one, curious in j
j such matters, test the value of the wil- j
low, either as provender for cattle, or in
tanning, and give us the result of his ex
‘ pei ience ?—Madison Miscellany.
A Good Compost. —For sandy land
! take 10 loads of stable or barn-yard ma
nure, 5 loads of clay, 10 bushels of ashes, \
\ and 20 bushels of lime, mix the whole
j well together, let it remain in pile a few
! days, turn it over, when it will be fit to
apply to the land.
The above quantity will make a better
! dressing for an acre of land than twenty,
;or even twenty-five loads of stable or
barn-yard manure alone, and will last
i longer. Lot any one who inny doubt,
j try it, and they will he convinced of the
truth of what wc say.— Am. Farmer.
i
The Mother and her Dying Son.
The mother breathed deeply when she
saw herself alone with her son. She |
folded her hands, and raised her eyes to I
heaven with an expression which through
the whole of the foregoing day had been j
foreign to them. It was no longer rest- j
less, almost murmuring anxiety; it was a ;
mournful, vet at the same time. rWp ;
perfi_-:i, nay, K-ving resignation, j
! She bent over her son. and spoke in a
; low voice out of the depths of her affec
tionate heart.
“ Go, my sweet hoy, go! I will no
longer hold thee back, since it is painful
to thee ! May the deliverer come ! Thy
mother will no longer contend with him
to retain thee ! Slay he come and make
an end of thy sufferings! I—will then
be satisfied! Go then, my first born,
my summer-child; and it there may
never more coinc a summer to the heart
lof thy mother —still go! that thou may
cst have rest! Did I make thy cradle
sweet, my child! so would I not embitter
by my lamentations thy death-bed!—
Blessed be thou. Blessed be He also
i who gave thee to me and who now takes
j thee from me to a better home! Some
time my son, I shall come to thee, go
thou beforehand my child. Thou art
i weary, so weary! Thy last wandering
was heavy to thee ! now thou wilt rest,
i Come, thou good deliverer, come thou
beloved death, and give rest to his heart;
but easily, easily. Let him not suffer
; more ; let him not endure more. Never
: did lie give care to his parents —”
At this moment Ilcnrick opened his
eyes and fixed them calmly and full of
expression, on his mother.
“Thank God!” said he, “ I feel no
more pain.”
“Thanks and praise be given to God,
my child,” said she.
Mother and son looked on each other
| with deep and cheerful love, they under
stood each other perfectly.
“ When I am no more,” said he, with
j a faint and broken voice, “ then—tell it
■ Gabriello prudently; she has such ten
der feeling—and she is not strong. Do
not tell it to her on a day—when it is
; cold and dull—but —on a day—when the
sun shines warm —when all things look
bright and kindly—then, tell it her—that
• I am gone first to greet her—and tell her
j from me—that it is not difficult to die !
—that there is a sun on the other side”—
He ceased, hut with a loving smile on
; his lips, and his eyes closed their lids as
j from very weariness.
Presently afterwards he spoke again,
hut in a very low voice. “Sing me
something mother,” said he, “ I shall
sleep more calmly, ‘They knock, I
come!’ ”
These words are the beginning of a
song which Henrik had himself written
and set to music some time before, during
a night of suffering.
The genius of poetry seemed to have
deserted him during the latter part of his
illness; this was painful to him, but his
mind remained the same, and the spirit
AUGUSTA, GA. FEBRUARY 22, 1845.
of poetry lived in the hymn which his;
mother now at his request, sang in a
trembling voice:
They knock! I come! yet cr* on the way
To the night of the grave I am pressing,
Thou Angel of Death give ise yet one lay—
One hymn of thanksgiving and praise.
Oh ! thanks for life, and thanks too for death,
The bound of all trouble and sighing;
How bitter I yet sweet, ’tis to yield our breath
When thine is the heart of the dying!
By our paths of trial thou plantest still
Thy lillics of consolation.
But the loveliest of all to do thy will—
Be it done with resignation!
Farewell, lovely earth, on whose bosom 1 lay ;
Farewell all ye dear friends,mourning!
Farewell, and forgive all tin faults of uiy days:
My heart now in death is burning!
“It is burning!” repeated Henrik, in j
a voice of suffering. “It is terrible!!
Mother! mother!” said he, looking at
her with a restless glance.
“ Your mother is here,” said she, bend
ing over him.
“ Ah ! then all is right,” said he again
calmly. “Sing, mv mother,” added lie,
closing his eyes, “I am weary.” She
sang.
We part! but in patting our steps wc bend
Alone towards that glorious morrow,
Where triend no more shall part from friend,
Where none knoweth heart-ache or sorrow !
Farewell! all is dark to my failing sight,
Young loved forms from my faint gaze rending,
’Tis dark, but oh ! far beyond iiie night,
I see light o’er the darkness ascending!
“Oh if you only knew how serene it
is! It is divine!” said the dying one,
; as he stretched forth his arms, and then
' dropped them again.
A change passed over the countenance
'of the young man; death had touched
i his heart gently, and its pulsations ceas
jed. At the same moment, a wonderful
inspiration animated Ihf- mother; l. ■
| eyes beamed brightly, and never before
hud her voice so beautiful, so clear a tone
as while she sang:
Thoucallest, O Father! with glad accord
1 come! Ye dear ones wc sever !
Now the pang is past! now behold 1 the Lord ;
Praise be thine,O Eternal, forever!
From the National Intelligencer.
Engraving—lmportant Discovery*
New York, Jan. 30, 1845.
Considerable sensation has been pro
duced among our engravers hv the news
i of a discovery, which is not only likely to
affect their interests, to a great extent,
hut which, if generally made known,
Jinust lead to consequences affecting the
' paper currency of the civilized world,
the importance of which it is hardly pos
sible to exagerate. lam indebted to Mr.
Chapman, the well known artist, for an
account of the invention, and a specimen
jof a plan produced through its agency.
The discovery consists in a process by
which an elaborate line engraving of any
size may he so accurately copied that
there shall be no perceptible difference
; between the original and the copy by
which an engraving on steel or copper
may be produced from an impression of
the print—original plate never having
been seen by the copyist—and the copied
engraving being capable of yielding from
ten to twenty thousand impressions.—
The producer will undertake to supply a
Bank of England note so exactly copied
that the persons who signed and issued it
should not be able to swear which was
the original and which the copy.
From the specimen in my possession,
obtained by this process, and which is
copied from a proof engraving of the
Saviour, from the burin of M. Blanchard,
from the painting of Delaroche, I should
infer that these claims on the part of the
discoverer could be fully substantiated.
The most delicate touches are transfer
red with perfect fidelity, and this after
upwards of four thousand impressions
from the duplicated plate had been taken.
The London publisher of the engraving
submitted one of these copies, together
with a proof of the original plate, to
several artists, painters, and epgravers;
and the opinion at which they arrived
was, that, although it was not difficult to
distinguish the original from the copy,
they were so thoroughly alike that any
person of practiced eye might suppose
the two to be from the same plate, the
one being taken with greater care than
the other; they were precisely the same,
line for line, and touch for touch; and
this example completely establishes the
principle. They considered the inven
tion the most wonderful and the most
unaccountable that had been made in
modern times in connection with art.
Many guesses have been made as to
the mode by which this marvellous pro
cess is effected, but as yet without result, i
The process does not even infer a ne
cessity of requiring the print delivered as
a model, which is returned unscathed.—
The inventor is an Englishman and an j
engraver by profession. He has taken j
out no patent, neither does he think it j
expedient to do so, inasmuch as, if he j
does, any unprincipled person may at
once adopt it, with little probability of the i
inventor being able to prove that his pro- j
cess has been the medium by which the |
print has been produced. A friend of j
the author of the invention says with j
justice, “There is no knowing to what j
j extensive changes in legislation it may j
I conduce; for, if any printed or written
document can be forged with so much
ease and certainty to defy any detection,
the consequences may he more apalling
than we care to anticipate.”
The invention embraces the capacity j
to reproduce any form of letter press, or
any quality of print, drawing, or litho
graph, in an unlimited quantity, in an
incovceivably space of time. For in
stance, from a single copy of the Intelli
gencer plates might he produced in twen
ty minutes from which impressions could
he worked oft’ with the ordinary rapidity
of the steam press. The finest and ra
rest engravings may he reprinted ad in
finitum ; bank notes may he reproduced
in sac similie, without the slightest differ
ence; and last, though not least, books
may be reprinted, as from steerotypes, in
unlimited quantity. Indeed, the various
mechanical and other interests nft’ected
by this remarkable discovery have not
yet been half enumerated.
Hok i>i <<o¥ti ics Ttftvf, been made.
Many of the most important discove
ries in (he field of science have been the j
result of accident. Two little sons ofj
a spectacle, maker in Holland, while their 1
father was at dinner chanced to look at j
a distant steeple through two glasses, one ;
placed before the oilier. They found
the steeple brought much nearer the shop
window. They told their lather on his
return, and the circumstance led to a
course of experiments which ended in the
invention of the telescope.
Some shipwrecked sailors collected
some seaweeds oil the sand, and made a
fire to warm their shivering fingers and
cook their scanty meal. When the fire
went out, they found that the alkali of
the seaweed had combined with sand,
and formed glass, the basis of all our dis
coveries in astronomy, and absolutely
necessary to our enjoyment.
In the days when astrologers and every
chemist were seeking after the philoso
pher’s stone, some monks, in making up
their materials, by accident invented gun
powder, which has done so much to dis
miss the barbarities of war.
Sir Isaac Newton’s most important
discoveries, concerning light and gravita
tion, were the result of accident. His
theory and experiment on light were sug
' gested by the soap bubbles blow’n by a
child, and the principle of gravitation, by
the fall of an apple as he sat in an or
chard ; and it was in hastily stratching
on a stone memorandum some articles
brought him by a wash woman, that the
idea of lithography first presented itself
to the mind of Stenefelder.
Children take Notice.
Nothing escapes the notice of a child ;
Dot even a change in the countenance,
or in the intonations of the voice. They
very early learn to know, by the looks
of the parent, or by the tone used, when
it is necessary to obey, and when they
may with impunity continue their diso
bedience. It is a great mistake, in the
government ot many, that they raise the
voice, when insisting upon obedience to
a command —the child wiil always wait
until the elevated tone assure him that it
will be perilous to refuse.
A mother overheard the following re
markable, certainly, instructive conver
sation, between her hoy and girl, the for
mer of whom was the oldest. They
were making a disturbance in the entry,
while she was conversing with a lady in
an adjoining room. In her ordinary tone
of voice she requested them to be still.
‘Mother said we must be still,’said the
little girl. ‘O, well,’ said the little boy,
* sho don’t care ; she won’t punish us,’- —
and they began to play again. I Be still,
WASHINGTONIAN
TOTAL ABSTINENCE PLEDGE*
We, whose names are hereunto an*
nexed, desirous of forming a Society for
our mutual benefit, and to guard against
a pernicious practice, which is injurious
to our health, standing and families, do
pledge ourselves as Genti.emen, not to
drink any Spirituous or Malt Liquors
ft ine or Cider.
[N t O. 32
children,’ said the mother again in the
same tone of voice. This time the lit*
tie girl stopped; but the little boy com
menced again by saying, ‘ don’t be afraid
—she never punishes ns without she
speaks louder.’ It was a very good les
son to the mother. Lpon consideration
she found, that the observation of the lit
tle fellow was true, that when she really
meant what she said, she elevated the
pitch of her voice.
It is on this account that the parent is
often obliged to repeat the command
several times before the child obeys ; the
child is waiting to learn from the coun
tenance or tone, whether the word must
be obeyed, or whether it may be evaded.
Let the request be clearly stated, but
in the usual tone of voice, and without
repetition. This course, if habitually
toilowed, will secure the immediate obe
dience of the child; save the parents
unnecessary and aggravating repetitions ;
learn the child to be calm and soft in his
manners, rather than boisterous and pas
sionate—and convince the child the com
mand is reasonable, and not the result of
caprice or anger.
A littl« boy, seven years old, in the ab
scence of his parents, carelessly broke a
valuable dish. When his father return
ed at evening, he told him what he had
; done, and said he was very sorry, and
would not do so again, and asked his fa*
! tlier to forgive him. This his father
cheerfully did, and told the child he loved
him, and did not mind the loss of the
dish because he had told the truth about
it. The next morning one of the fami
ly asked the little boy if he had told his
father what he had done the day before.
‘Oil, yes,’said he,‘and father forgave
mo, and I knew he would, for the Bible
says, *• he that confesseth and forsaketh
his sins shall find mercy.”’
13aily Rising.
Fort ch»i when.
“ Not yet, Ellen, oh ! not yet—it is
tan soon—l shall be up by breakfast-time,
and that will do, you know.” Poor Lou
ise ! She could not resolve to leave her
soft pillow, even when she knew that
she was doing wrong to indulge in so
idle an habit. Just the evening before,
she had been deploring the loss of time
which it occasioned her, and she had re
solved to overcome it at once. Ellen
promised her to waken her very early the
next morning, for she had a long lesson
to learn before school. And besides,
Ellen had told her of some beautiful
(lowers in a neighboring field, which she
wished very much to gather. All this
could bo easily done before breakfast, if
she could only keep her good resolution.
But, alas ! poor Louise. Her bad habit
was too strong for her good resolutions,
and while Ellen, with a light step, has
tened to gather the bright flowers and re
turned in good time with her cheeks as
fresh and blooming as they, she lay do
zing on her pillow, and when at last she
was tempted to rise, her pale cheeks and
swollen eves told a sad tale of wasted
health and energy. After breakfast she
sat down yawning to her lessons, while
the bright and cheerful Ellen, with health
blooming on her cheek, and sparkling in
her eye, easily accomplished her task,
and throughout the day felt in the easy
and cheerful performance of her duty,
the healthful and invigorating effects of
early rising.— Youth's Visitor.
Important Decision in Chancery-
On Tuesday last, Vice Chancellor,
Wm. T. McCoun, of this city, made a
decision relative to a father’s privileges
over his own family, which is so averse
to the generally supposed common law
rights of man, that a general publicity
of it may be the means of saving mill
ions of dollars which otherwise might be
fruitlessly wasted in investigating the
subject. The Vice Chancellor decided
and made an order accordingly, “that
the father of two children, one seven and
the other nine years of age, should not
remove either of them out of the juris
diction of this Court, (the city of New
York) and that the mother have the right
to visit and look to them at all times” du
ring the pending of a suit in this Court
brought by the father for a divorce from
his wife; and in this case the father on
ly desired to place the children at a res
pectable boarding school a short distance
trom the city.—iV. Y. Tribune..
A Philosopher being asked" by what
means he had acquired so much knowl
edge, replied, “By not being prevented
by pride, from asking question* when 1
was ignorant.”