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tbe genial and purifying influences of parents, sisters, brothers, and the man-sating influence of the family government. The nation must look for virtue, wisdom and strength, to the ednca- i tion that controls and shapes the home policy of the family circle. There can be no love of coun try where there is no love of home. Patriot- ' ism, true and genuine, the only kind worthy of the name, derives its mighty strength from foun tains that gush out around the hearthstone : and those who forget to cherish the household inter- ; ests, will soon learn to look with indifference upon the interests of their common country. We must cultivate the roots—not the tops. — We must make the family government, the school, the farm, the church, the shop, the ag ricultural fairs, the laboratories of our future greatness. We must educate our sons to be farmers, artisans, architects, engineers, geolo gists, botanists, chemists —in a word, practical men. Their eyes must be turned from Washing ton to their States, counties, townships, districts, homes. This is true patriotism ; and the only patriotism that will perpetually preserve the nation. — [Gov. Wright. vikvv. TUT. HOMESTEAD BEAUTIFUL. The following eloquent remarks were a part of the Rev. C. W. Howard’s admirable address at the Athens Fair—copied from the Southern Cultivator: It will aid in the attainment of this end (the giving permanence to our population) if in addi tion to making our lands more valuable, we ren der the Homestead more attractive. Not even the savage is insensible to beauty. A percep tion of it is as natural to man as any other of his perceptions. It may be dulled or perverted, but, like the moral sense, it can hardly be des troyed. The beauty of an innocent child is some times the sternest rebuke to tho criminal bent upon crime. The surpassing loveliness of woman often subdues the most rugged nature of men. When the glorious sun, preceded by his gorge oue heralds of illumined mist and cloud rises from his morning’s couch, or sinks, “ like a wea ried giant,” to rest at eventide drawing around him the sable curtains of night—when night herself, stilly, placid, serene, extends her starlight canopy over the sleeping world— when gentle spring has smiled away stern win ter and covered the earth with her green car peting, varied and bedecked with her flower hues, inimitable by artist's skill, lie is less than man whose soul, amid such scenes, is not pene trated with the sense of beauty. Simply natu ral beauty oftew presents itself with irresistible power to tho natural sense of man. It is the response of one portion of nature to the perfec tion of another portion of the handiwork of the Great Architect. But if we connect the moral or spiritual with natural beauty, things lovely in themselves become, by the union, still more lovely and are invested with the charm which a holy sentiment creates. A peaceful, tasteful country Home is an object of interest, even to the incurious traveller. The perfume ot flowers, the over-arching tree, the well-trimmed hedge, the velvet and verdant lawn, the vine embowered cottage, arrest, for a moment, his journey, compel his attention, induce him to forget the dusty road, his aching limbs and wearied steed. ‘ The wrinkled brow is smoothed, the careworn countenance is lit up with genial good-humor, for the scene before him, by inevitable association, has brought to him cheering thoughts of home and the loved ones there. Such scenes are the gleams of sunshine, by which a kind Providence allows the sombre hue of human life to be enlivened. The same scene may become a thousand fold more attractive by associations connected with it. If those that we love have been the agents in creating the beauty which pleases, the affec tions of the heart are united with the percep tions of the sense and give rise to an attachment which it is difficult to extinguish. Where good sense directs and prudence con trols expenditure, it is virtuous to embellish our Homes. The opinion is thus qualified, as those who advocate ornament, are sometimes inclined to overlook utility. We should not forget the advice of Lord Bacon, who says: “ Leave the goodly fabric of houses, for beauty alone, to the enchanted palaces of the poets, who build them with small cost.” It is practicable to unite beauty with utility in the arrangement of our habitations. In truth there is “ a fitness in things ” which require the union of both to give perfection to either. When this union occurs, it is no exhibition of idle taste, but an adornment of nature often followed by valuable moral results. We abandon, without regret, tho ill-shaped, crazy and comfortless cab in, around which tho bare earth burns under the fiery sun, or rank weeds pollute the* air with poisonous odors. But it is a very difficult thing to contemplate the abandonment of a comforta ble home which our own hands or the hands of those we love have labored appropriately to adorn. It is a- meditated violence to nature. It is a laceration of the affections. It is an inter ruption of our pleasant memories. It breaks the continuity of the life. It is, in a sense, a deser tion of those who have gone before us and now appear to us sensibly in these mute witnesses to their tasteful industry. It contemplates the sacreligous hand of the stranger, tearing, mang ling and defacing those beauties to which we have paid an almost religious regard. With what delicate but truthful sense of these strong feelings of our nature does Milton place upon the lips of our common mother, the words of her lament on leaving Paradise — “ O Elowers! That never will In other climates grow— * My early visitation and my last At even, which I bred up with tender care, From the first opening bud and gave ye names! Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank Your tribes and water from the Ambrossil Fount }" How many gentle descendants of Eve have been inclined to utter the same lament when, not the “flaming sword,” but the love of gain in those to whom their will is subordinate, compels them to leave the Paradise they have created and abandon it to tho ruthless stranger? It of ten occurs, even among men, that the finer feel ings connected with home associations overpow er the sordid desires. Healthful sentiment con quers unrighteous mammon. Tho tendrils of af fectionate remembrance not unfrequently hold with greater tenacity than tho strong grasp of principle. Thus our delicate emotions become more potent for good than even the dictates of a cold calm judgment. It is fortunate that wealth is not necessary in the creation of this attachment to home. The cottage may be as attractive to its humble in mate as the costliest villa to its lordly possessor. The humblest dwelling may be the centre of as strong attachment as the proudest mansion, and there may be equal reluctance to leaving our “ father's house,” whether it be cottage or man sion. While, then, we enrich our land 3, let us not forget this minor indeed, but still valuable aid in securing permanence to our population. Then, make the Homestead beautiful 1 Make it beautiful within. Let good books dispense to XKK SOtrXKK&Jk HX£l>» ASH SX&XSXHK. its inmates, from their affluent stores, the price- 1 less treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Let j sweet music lift up its voice and make glad the hearts of those who hear. Let contentment dis place anxious care. Let subjected wishes, thoughtful concessions, accordant tempers and mutual forbearance, banish discord and so unite the family that, though many, they shall be one. Let love unfeigned to God and man, so light up the dwelling that hateful vice, impatient of the light, shall flee, abashed, to its congenial dark- I ness. So shall the Homestead be beautiful with in. Make it beautiful without. Young man, lend to this holy purpose the strength of your stal wart arm. Nothing can be more manly. They are coarse and unmanly natures which under value gentle sentiment. Let it be yours to per form those acts which, by weaker hand, are in capable of accomplishment. Plant the stately forest tree around the dwelling. ■ If God spares your life, you will sit under its shade in old age, when both yourself and this nursling of your hands have been battered by the storms of many winters. Matron and maidens of the household, plant , vines and shrubs and flowers. “ And as the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (whence it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand,” let the perfume of the rose and jasmine and violet, and the thousand floral beauties of the sunny South breathe around you in spring and summer and autumn. Let the un fading evergreen rob wiuter of his chill, by en vironing the dwelling with perennial verdure, while the rest of earth is bare and desolate. Old man, fill each proper place with its appro priate fruit trees—“ the graceful legacy of old age to posterity”—a legacy at once a utility and an ornament. How can the troubling hands of age be more suitably employed ? What more ornamental than the tempting fmit pendant from the boughs of the well-trimmed tree ? If the “ silver cord be loosened or the golden bowl be broken,” ere you may taste the produce of your labors, or your eyes be gladdened by the beauty you have created, when you are gone your chil dren and your children’s chilren will bless his thoughtful hand who remembered those who were to come after him. A well established farm, in whose conduct good order reigns—where “science and practice” are* followed with that numerous and beauteous offspring which always attend their union— whose kiudly soil, grateful for the husbandman’s care, returns to him, from year to year, more than it receives—whose progressive improve ment teaches us that we have but begun to learn the fullness of Nature's exhaustless stores—upon whose verdant pastures the bounding colt and lo'wiu kine and blatant sheep rejoice each after its fashion as God made them—whose meadows, glistening with the dew drops, are vocal with the carol of birds warbling their thanks for the deep shelter of their nests under the tall grass, and with the babling of the brook, shining in the sunbeam like silver, as it merrily dances down its rocky bed towards the quiet river— whose fields wave with wheat, oppressing by its weight the bending stalk, or are clothed with the deeper than emerald verdure of the majestic corn, or are honored by that royal plant, that king of the purity and pacific nature of whose reign this garb of snowy whiteness is an appro priate emblem —and whose habitation, simple, elegant, home-like, lifts its modest front close by the spring—such a farm is an anchor to the children of the household. They become, as it were, children of the soil. To them it is almost animate, by hallowed remembrances, by mem ories by innocent employments and by transfu sion into its elements of a portion of the mind of those to whom, for generations, it has been a thoughtful care stern necessity alone will suffer it to become the heritage of the stranger. If this just regard lie paid to Home beauty and comfort and value, when our sons, prompted by the restless spirit of change, or impelled by the desire of more rapid accumulation, shall think of the fertile west and then cast their eyes aruond them, it will shame them that they have con templated self-expatriation. We may imagine one of them under the influ ence of these feelings to exclaim, “ My home, my happy home, my much loved home, my Georgia home, I cannot leave thee. These now fertile lands, my father rescued from sterility. These flowers my mother and my sisters planted— these bowers their hands entwined. Here my infancy played. Here my erring boyhood was deterred from vice by my father's counsels, and won to virtue by my mother's smiles. I cannot leave thee. Here will I live and here will Ibe buried. ‘God do so to me and more also if aught but death part me and thee.’ ” MR. MECHI’S FARMING- YIPTREE HALL. Mu. L. 11. Tucker, of the Counti-y Gentleman, thus describes his visit to Tiptree Hall, the fa mous farm of Alderman Mechi. of London: I visited Tiptree Hall the last of June, and saw so much more than seemed to me of real, practi cal value, than I had been led to anticipate, that I hope what I can say here will not entirely fail to convey some of the lessons which Mr. Meehi has been endeavoring to teach. At the same time let me disclaim the anticipation of present ing anything like a perfect detail of his opera tions —a task which, so far I know, remains to be performed. For the “ Sayings and Doings ” of the Alderman, consist of his scattered writings from time to time, unavoidably containing more or less repetition; representing too, in some de gree his changes of views with additional expe rience, but lacking in the connectedness that would render these changes features of still greater value in the progress of a perfectly rele vant and straight-forward tale. “ I may be asked,” says Mr. Mechi, “ 1 What can you, as a Londoner, know about farming?' I will answer, ‘I always loved the lieauties of nature, the pure air of heaven, the sports of the field, and the hospitality of our honest yeomen. I have seen one farmer making a fortune, and his next neighbor losing one. I have seen one field all corn, and another all weeds.’ “ I asked, 1 How is this ?’—inquired into the causes—noted the results—obtained from all the best farmers, and all the best agricultural books within my reach, every information bearing on agricultural pursuits, and practiced in my own little garden, on a small scale, a variety of expe riments.” Carrying forward upon his new property these experiments —agitating continually the necessity of certain improvements—if not m his own way, by some other means—of which he thought Eng lish farming pecuuiarly capable. —his sentiments have progressed through different stages of rid icule and hostility until it is now commonly granted that while very few may wish to pro ceed upon his system exactly, he haSVet done a good work in stirring up the many to direct mea sures of advancement. He has certainly been most liberal in the expenditure of his money in such away as to test how far others may ven ture safely; and he has presented an example which in notoriety as well as from its intrinsic merits, must have been exceedingly effective. Moreover, as it was remarked to me in conversa tion by a large farmer in one of the midland couuties. his efforts have opened the door to him of associations which in England money does not buy. Mr. Mechi, the widely advertised ven der of razors and razor-strops—Mr. Mechi, the wealthy Alderman, might have gone down to the grave with other dealers in fancy wares and consumers of turtle soup, but Mr. Mechi, the far mer of Tiptree Hall, is invited to Sir Robert Peel’s, with lords “of high degree," and comes to be looked upon, as he mournfully sayshimself in bewailing the responsibilities and “miseries” of the position—in the light of “a public im prover." * ABOUT CATTLE FEEDIXG. “ The quantity of meat made on a farm per acre, de termines the quantity of corn growp." “ Mr. Laves lias shown beyond a doubt that there is no way of obtaining manure so cheaply as by feeding animals.” It chanced that Mr. M. was not himself at home, but I found the steward or bailiff, Mr. Drane, an intelligent and communicative man. The first turn we took, very appropriately brought us into the feeding stables. Appropriately—be cause the feeding of animals is entitled to a front rank among the improvements we must more extensively practice, and because while many of the most peculiar, and to some obnoxious feat ures in Mr. M.’s system here meet the visitor at once, he may also learn in what he sees, the general importance of careful management, the economical use of feeding materials, the benefit of comfortable quarters, and probably the strong est arguments that can be anvanced, in favor of stall feeding in summer as well as in winter. The building which we now enter is of suffi cient width for one row of stalls or boxes, and an alley in front of them from which to feed. The size of the boxes is nine feet nine inches in side breadth, and eight feet length, exclusive of the manger—each designed for two bullocks. The manger is a simple box or trough, and re ceives all the food the cattle eat. So far there is nothing extraordinary in what we see, but the floor is certainly a surprise! It is composed of slats of good sound deal or other timber, three inches by two in size and two or two and a half inches apart. The animal has no bedding of any kind. “ There is nothing pleasing to the grazier's eye,” as Mr. M. remarks, in such an arrange ment. Indeed, like others, he had at first many prejudices against it. Both men and animals like a soft place to sleep on. When bullocks are first put into these bozes, they seem “ afraid to move,” and for twenty-four hours, nine out of ten “ resolutely maintained their standing. ” Just a forkful of straw, however, spread about under them, seemed to overcome this “ sense of insecurity,” and they only required one resort to this expedient. Physicians tell us, reasons our ' host—that a hard bed is undoubtedly the most i healthy. In this case the edges of the boards, | at first new and sharp, in two or three weeks become smooth, and the animals find easy posi tions. This floor is, I think, perfectly horizontal and the slats placed, not across the box, but j longitudinally as the animal stands. They are ! also used, however, and with results represented 1 as similarly satisfactory,[both for pigs and sheep. Mr. Iluxtable is the author of the boarded floor system, but Mr. Mechi has modified the details, and, after trial and measurements of tho hoofs of various animals, has concluded upon the follow ing as the best size of slats : For bullocks. 3 inches thick, 4 inches wide, \% in. apart. For sheep and pips, 1# do 8 do do For lambs* small pigs, IX do 8 do 1 do For calves, 2 do 3 do 1% do The result of putting two bullocks together is not found to retard their progress in flesh-mak ing—the better ox, as elsewhere, will be the master, but not to the injury or discomfort of his associate. They are all groomed daily by a boy —a process which appears to contribute much to their enjoyment. The floor, although not swept, is always clean; a little gypsum (plaster) is sprinkled over it every morning- about a peck to ten bullocks. ECONOMY IX SAVIXO THE LITTER. The great advantage claimed for this system, aside from the assertion that it actually contrib utes to better the health of the animal and the quality of its beef—is the saving both of the bed ding and of the labor that accompanies its dis tribution, removal, and the subsequent manage ment of the manure, of which last we will speak by and by. All the straw is wanted for feed. As Mr. Horsfall argued when I visited his place, the straw when used for litter is only of value as a contribution to the manure-heap; when it is fed to tbe animal, those parts which in the dung-pit would ferment and escape, are precise ly the ones which the animal converts into its own tissue, while the mineral elements which it does not make use of, remain for fertilizing purposes as before. Now the value of straw simply as manure, is computed by Mr. Mechi to be not above $2.33 per ton, (9s. 4d.) while for feed it is worth to him $5, or more than double as much. This difference is one which he does not think he can afford to lose, for he calculates upon a production of two tons of straw per acre, and a loss of, say $5 per acre, on fifty acres of wheat, will go a good way toward the difference between farming at a profit and fanning at a loss. The pains taken to illustrate and verify these facts, show to what economical minuteness, so to speak, the English farmer has been compelled to go in order to sustain the gainfulness of his calling under those numerous expenses with which he is burdeued by government, church and landlord, and notwithstanding which he has accomplished the grand triumph of so far com peting successfully with all the restol the world —the cheap labor of the continent and the cheap lands of America. With us, where we have dif ficulty to bring our farmers into the way of con verting their straw into manure, to go beyond this use into a calculation of its further value as food, seems almost a waste of words. But such will not always remain the case where it is so at present, and the subject may not be univer sally disregarded even now. From Voelker’s analyses, alluded to by Mr. M., he derives the statement that the soluble fattening substances contained in each 100 lbs. of straw are equal to IS$ lbs. of oil. How. then, he asks, can it have been so long disregarded ? “ Simply because the straw in an unprepared condition, is not in an available condition for food.” Before proceeding to the method of prepara tion advocated, there is a difficulty to be dispos ed of, which may already have arisen in the reader's mind. In casting our eyes about the building we were looking at, we merely noticed the floor but did not go below it; and the ques tion that at once occurs, is this —how is the ma nurial matter we obtain, to be managed and transported without some such material as straw to act as an absorbent, and give it greater cohe sion ? The answer is two-fold—the first, not * After speaking of the thousand questions with which eager Inquirers prey upon his time, and of tho resort to him by inventors without number for tho means of in troducing their schemes, he adds as a set-off, in tho “con sciousness of having been of some servieo ” to his coun try, the -‘pleasing recollection that tho two American Reapers were first tried” on his farm, in 1851. “ Then, they were wondered at; note Messrs. Burgess * Key alone arc preparing to make fifteen hundred for use in 1559.” strenuously insisted upon by Mr. M.. although it has been one of the most striking features in his management, while the second he also em ploys, I believe, to a large extent. Beneath the slats on which we have been standing, there runs along a tank about three feet u> depth, of brick, laid in cement and water tight, its two ends having a slight descent to wards the middle, whence there passes a pipe or drain into a large outside tank of no less than 80,000 gallons capacity. Mr. Mechi’s way is to admit a flow of water into the tank under tho animals until its contents are diluted and liqui fied so as to pass wholly into the exterior cis tern. The hose ’employed for this purpose, in hot weather may be used also to wash the whole interior of the building and keep everything, ev en to the animals themselves, clean and cool. The existence of such a mass beneath them, does not prove in experience to emit the putrefying stench that might be anticipated; when undis turbed indeed, it forms so dense a mass that suf ficient air cannot penetrate it to produce the fer mentation that would take place with the pres ence of straw to lighten up the heap and permit tho admission and circulation of the atmosphere; and when the water flows in, the whole is wash ed away at the least possible disagreeableness and expense. THE USE AXD MAXUFACTURE OF BURXED CLAY. The other method of managing manure in this condition, is found in the use of burned day. Upon tho heavy soils of Steuben, Major Dickin son has been an advocate of burning sods to use the ashes as a fertilizer, but it is quite a common thing in many parts of England now to burn the simple soil itself—of course whatever vegetable matter it may contain being considered a wel come addition, but the great point lying in the conversion into an available supply of mineral matters, of the hard subsoil and other clods —in themselves sometimes actually poisonous to the plant, although when reduced to brickdust at once rendered “ attractive, absorbent, filtrative, instead of being, as formerly, sullenly unaltera ble and repulsive.” Good farmers use it to ad vantage, drilled with their turnips; spread broad cast over a field, it is found lasting in its effects —apparently sinking “gradually down into the obstinate subsoil,” and imparting to it something of its own permeability. The inorganic elements contributed to the soil by the animal life of eve ry sort under or upon it, for which it has long been “ tho feeding-ground, the dung-heap and the grave;” tho stones that lock up in their hard sides so many of the same materials which give the straw its glaso and stiffness, and the grain its phosphates; the germs of new weeds and the de caying remains of old vegetation, by this trial of fire are all converted at comparatively little cost or trouble into either what is actually available as plant food, or what exerts the best effect upon the mechanical condition of the ground. One chief resource with English farmers for clay to burn, is the same as that I found employ ed by Major Dickinson in his farming alluded to above, viz., the road-sides and the margins of fields —especially the former. Mr. Mechi has in this way, he somewhere states, lowered his road-sides so as to effect at the same time the desired convexity and drainage of the road bed. He breaks up the strip to be burned in very dry weather, he says, in writing to the Royal Socie ty’s Journal of the method taken with some very poor, cold, tenacious clay, occasionally contain ing pebbles, which, notwithstanding its almost entire lack of vegetable matter, was still used with “decided advantage” for wheat, young clover and roots. In burning, the small quanti ty of vegetable matter it did contain, appeared to concentrate in the clods to a black center, and they were changed in color from yellow to a pale red or orange, on the exterior. It requires great power to break up this stiff soil. The rough masses into which it is purposely torn, are piled up by hand about a nucleus of “ dried stumps or wood of sufficient solidity to maintain a body of heat.” Then a barrow is used in feed ing the pile, and subsequently a one-horse cart. It is important to supply tho fire fast enough “ to prevent its burning through and yet avoid overlaying it, which might exclude all air and put it out.” “ Practice will indicate the medium. When the fire shows a tendency to break through, the outside of the burning mass is raked down, and more earth added. If the ground is very dry, and no rain falls, the men are obliged to feed the'lire almost continually night and day; but when there is moisture, it may be left for five or six hours, but seldom longer. Something depends on the current of air. A strong wind would blow the fire from one side and out at the other. This is guarded against by placing hurdles in terlaced with straw as a guard to "windward. The size of a heap is limited by the height to which a man can throw up the soil, and. of course the diameter must be proportioned to the height, to prevent its slip ping down. It isgenernlly lighted so ns to burn out by Saturday, and not require Sunday attendance. This mode of burning may be essentially called sum mer burning, because we find practically that heavy rains put out the fires, or check their progress. Where fuql is abundant, or coal cheap. I have reason to believe fires may be kept up through the winter.*’ Now the burned clay may be employed to the best advantage with tho manure under the boarded floors, and is cheaply obtained in large quantities—the estimated cost per 100 loads of 27 cubic feet each, being, For labor and burning $10.84 For fire wood 2.08 For plowing and horse labor 2.08 Total $16.00 « That is 16 cents a load. It is strongly recom mended for use under sheep, only one-fourteenth part of their excrement being in solid form,while one barrowful of clay daily to twenty sheep will preserve the remainder perfectly. “ Sheep do not get sore feet upon it” The only purpose, remarks Mr. M., with which we turn over and manipulate our ordinary manure heaps, is to se cure the proper decomposition of the straw they contain ; manure mixed with burned clay is car ried at once from the farmstead to the field and applied where wanted. * Another week we will return again to the buildings where there yet remains much to be looked into. DISEASES OF THE HORSE AND MULE. Yery few of the diseases so common to the horse would often occur, were it not for a pre existing unhealthiness of the system. And this unhealthiness is generally the result of the wretched treatment the horse has to endure in certain quarters. Some farmers seldom, if ever, have a sick or diseased horse, while others are as seldom free from them. The difference arises entirely from the different manner of treatment. The well horse is not often the subject of sudden and violent attacks: nor with proper care are they the subjects of seated or chronic disease. Sudden attacks argue pre-existing disease, and unfortunately, but few horses are ever allowed ! entirely to recover from them or their effects. Through want of reflection or an unpardonable carelessness on the part of the managers of the horse, as soon as the violent spasms of disease pass off, they consider him well, and he is put to hard work and high feed long before his weak ened and debilitated constitution will justify it— and thus the effects of a disease, the feverish ir ritability and soreness that might have been re moved, by proper treatment and attention, be comes a permanent, seated, and sometimes a chronic diseese. Gentlemen have often said to us, that they did not see why they should have so much dis ease amongst their stock; they fed as well as others, gave plenty to eat, etc. We did not doubt their word, as to the plentifulness of their feeding, but as to the judiciousness of it, and its being well regulated, we have our doubts. In fact we are satisfied that plentiful feeding may be the very worst of management. How care ful our physicians for the human patient are, if he is feverish and there exists much irritation in the system, to restrict his diet, and be careful that nothing be takten into the stomach of a gross nature, that will at all increase the irrita tion already set up. And what will lie thought of the physician that would order as the diet of his patient—suffering under a slow and undeter mined fever—fat bacon and other gross food ? Would he not have the best reasons to expect a dreadful and malignant type of the disease to soon develop itself, and death the result? And such will be the case precisely with the horse treated iu the same way; the only possible dif ference will be in the superior ability of the horse system to resist disease. Thousands of horses are yearly destroyed by this same process —high feeding. Throw the corn in to him—as the expression is—is the rule, and but few seem to know or permit any variation from it This practice is of doubtful propriety at any time; but in cases of disease, though even in its inci pient stage, it is entirely ruinous. There are but few alas 1 but very few that profess to know anything about the disease of the horse, or are able to detect ‘hem in their commencement, which is the proper time to remove them. If they eat well t.iey generally suppose that lie must be well, wide it is a noted fact that the horse, in nearly all cases of his diseases, has a very strong and often a voracious appetite. Over feeding them is one of the most fruitful causes of disease in the l.orse. But a glance at certain stables; their unwliolesomo condition; wet, cold, and sometimes muddy and filled with offen sive manure, the horse exposed to the cold rain through the day, and put up in these miserable pens through the nigli v , with plenty of corn and musty fodder, and no c irrycomb—worked hard and treated still harder; and we find no difficul ty in accounting for all tie cases of hots, cholic, big-head and jaw-spavin, founder, mange, sur feit, stiff complaint, and» hundred and one other malignant forms of disease that occur in our country. We would not say that there would be no diseases in horses only from bad treatment. There would be, we are satisfied, but little—of a very mild type—and that too mostly the result of accident. One other cause of injury to the horse we shall mention in this communication, is tho very general practice of putting a diseased horse to do the work of ti well ono, or a weak horse to do the work of a strong one, exercising no discrim ination as to the ability of the horse, and re quiring more of him than lie is capable of per forming. Many horses are being destroyed by this process. They givo out in a short time, and become permanently broken down. When, if put to light labor, such as they were able to bear, and treated kindly, they would, in all pro bability, do good service for a number of years. We will now give a few cases of disease and death from improper management. Mr. 8., of Bedford county, had last spring a fine mare with a young colt. Needing her services she was ‘ put to the plow when the colt was but a few days old. In the evening of a warm day in the spring, there was a very strong appearance of rain, and the marc was taken, dripping with perspiration, to the house, and turned in the yard, where she eat voraciously of the common 3'ard plantain, standing out all the time in a very cold rain. At night she was put up in the stable and fed with sixteen ears of corn, all of which she ate. She was soon taken sick, as might have been expected, and died very soon afterwards. A gentleman in the neighborhood, who was present with many others, wished to satisfy himself of the cause of her death. lie therefore cut her open. (All present had pronoun ced it a case of bets.) And from him we ob tained the following account: The stomach was dreadfully ruptured, tom entirely open, so were the small bowels, and in some few places the large ones. The diaphragm also was rent or tom asunder, and such had been the awful throes of agony she had endured, and her con tortions of body so great and violent, that the small bowels and a part of the large one were actually ejected, or forced through this opening in the diaphragm, and were lying loose in the cavity of the chest next to the heart and lungs. The food in tho stomach, of which there was an unreasonable quantity and entirely undigested, was as cold as if dipped in ice water. But few bots were found in the stomach, and they lying entirely loose amongst the food apparently dead. Now the facts iu this case were without doubt these: The mare had been feverish for some time—this the gentleman in question told me he knew to be the case—she had been put to work too soon after her time of foal, before she was in a condition to bear it. Eating the green cold plantain and standing out in the rain, undoubt edly produced a chill. And about the time that the fever rose to the highest, eating a large quan tity of corn, brought on a terrible conjestion, which was the cause of death. And her epi taph is that of thousands—Killed by imprudence end improper management of her owners. And such cases or similar ones are constantly occur ing all over our country. If not resulting in death, yet in disease that is with difficulty, if ever removed. One case more, and we close this article. Dr. N., of Tullalioma, had his riding horse taken very sick, and came very near dying. In fact, so bad had he been that he had beaten the skin almost entirely off his hips, the sides of his head and chest. And we were told by his owner, that at one time he would not have given one dollar for him. But by judicious treatment, and preventing others from murdering him with their drenches, he was finally' relieved, but still remains in a pitiable condition. So little attention is paid to the condition of the horse by the great mass of owners in our country, our object is to arouse attention to this subject on the part of the owners and dealers in horses generally; and also an acquaintance with the Anatomy and Pathology of the horse system seas to be prepared to treat successsfully these cases, if they should occur, but more especially to take measures to prevent their occurrence, which is by far the best policy.—[Robt. Stewart, in NasliviUe Sines. ——• f —— Specific fok Bugs on Vines. —Having seen by your paper that many truckers iu your sec tion are anxious to ascertain a simple and sure remedy to destroy bugs on squashes, cucumbers and the like, I will give you one which is almost a specific, and within the reach of every one, especially those living on the seaboard. Procure fresh sish —of any kind whatever, the commonest and cheapest just as good—a sufficient quantity, according to circumstances, say one peck to a barrel of water. Let them stand therein a day or two, in order to commence 247