Newspaper Page Text
By J. W. Burke & Cos.
THE OLD AND THE NEW YEAR.
Sixty-five! OH jear! So thou
Hast for aye depaited now:
All thy fit ill hopes aud sea s,
All thy transit nt sm les and tears,
A!1 thy many anxious schemes,
jNow appear like fading dreams.
Such as owed to Time their birth
Have bu' proved themselves .of earth,
Born to dazz! and to die,
Linked not with Eternity
Sixty-six! The year’s begun!
Hail’d by many! known by none !
Glad ome bells, with merry peal,
Thine auspicious birth rev- a 1 :
Who may hear thy parting knell,
Gob and he alone, can tell 1
Joyous *ongues around express,
F' r thee, hopes of happiness :
Sober’d hearts, too, here and there,
Greet thee with a voiceless prayer.
lint thy glory and thy gloom
. Still are in the future’s womb:
Whatsoe’er of good or ill
Shall be given to fulfill,
May we look to Him alone
Who can make that good our own :
Who can guide us from each ill,
While we seek to do His will;
And when we fr m time must sever,
Take us to Himself forever.
Utistdlanj).
COROLINN:
A Persian Tale.
CHAPTER I.
< Here.’ said I, ‘he-e once flourished an op- lent city ’
'iaere was once the seat of a powerful empire !’—
Vulney.
The sun had passed the meridian, and the
shadows of the rocky peaks of the Hetzerdera,
or the summit of the Uousand mountains, as
they i a» o b* * n called in the glowing poetical
la guage of F- rdosi, had begun to str tch
selves over one of the most rich and beautitul
and stricts in Persia —the fertile plains of Persepo
lis and Sebiras. The clouds which in rude
masses were piled above the Hetz rdera, were
touched on iheir margin with crimson, and
purple ar and gold ; and while they showed, in
bold relief, against the spotless, b'ue sky, they
were in ail their brilliancy and magnifies: ch
reflected from the smooth, flowing lily sprink
led liendemir The fragrance of the orange
groves and the beautiful banana, blended with
the breolti of the clustering roses, which bord
ered the tranquil Bendemir, came over thesense
in a” their sweftrtf-«s ; and the ripe tempting
blush oi the delicious peach of Persia, was ml -
gled in the same garden with the scarlet bioss
soms of .1 e pomegranate.
The towering and majestic columns of ruin
ed Persepolis raised their proud htads in the
mid;t of siler co and desolation ; and their sha
dows, a i they lengthened across the ruins, dar
kened the dust formed by the accumulation o p
ua >ruil mounds for cuntless centuries. What
apace tor moralizing! Persia’s prQud mon
archs, where were they ? Cyru l , the man des
tined by Heaven to bumble Babylon—Cam by
ses, who brought to a final close the long line
of the Pharaohs, ar and caused the sun of Egyp
t an glory lo set in desc.ation and blood, had
here marshalled their legions—here displayed
their unbounded magnificence and power;—
but now perhaps the very whirlwind which is
sweeping through the col urn r sos that stupen
dous temple, is sporting with their dust, and
mingling it with that of their meanest and
veriest slaves. Here too, Schira3 lifts its tow
_ ers, spreads its beautiful gardens, and from its
" minarets is heard the follower of Ali, calling
the faithful to prayer. But the bustle of Schi
ras is hashed ; its streets are deserted; its crowds
have poured forth from its gates ; and the pranc
ing of Persian steeds, theglaDcingofscimetars,
and clouds of smoke, plainly designate the
course pursued by the immense cavalcade.—
bchiras was indeed that day empty. All who
<cou and possibly join the throng, had willingly
assisted to swell the tide of human beings,
that Schiras had that day poured forth to greet
tha triumphant entry of Abbas Mirza, the son
of the reigning Shah, who had been appointed
■ Governor of the province, and who, in addition
v&o the usual parade on such occasions, had re
solved to make a magnificent entry, graced
with the splendor and renown he had acquired
by his successful teimination of the Afghanis
tan war. The immerse crowd had slowly
made their way to near the foot of the first range
of the Heizerd-ra; and within view of that
sublime and terific pass, which forms almost
the only opening through the mountains, ar.d
from whence the eye catches the first glimpse
of the beautiful plain of Schiras, were waiting
under a burning sun, with breathless impati
ence, the approach of the prince In the throng
and jost ed oy soldiers and moolah, Emir and
Sa acene, mb gled with Armenian merchants
and dancing girls from Ispahan,—the fl *wer
of its Harem, and pilgrims from the Ganges—
was to be seen a solitary Englishman, mounted
on a spirited Persian charger, and accompan
ied by a single attendant, whose turban and
. aftag'ian sufficiently showed his Asiatic origin.
Murmurs of impatience and dissatisfaction had
begun to buzz through the multitude, when a
baud of Persian cavalry approached, descend
ing the pathway, and instantly hushed all
symptoms of disapprobation. These heralds of
the approach of the prince were far more rich
ly and splendidly dressed than anything which
Francis Everington had ever seen, accustomed
as he in some measur i had been to the dis
plays of oriental magnificence.
Francis Everington was a young Englishman,
who had accompanied Mr. Morlei on his em
bassy to Persia; but who had been left sick at
Ispahan when the embassy left that country,
and was now with his faithffil attendant, Ha
mors, on his way to Bassorah, on the Persian
gulf, with the intention of obtaining a passage
to India, and from thence to Europe. He had
taken a position beneaih a cluster of orange
trees, which served in some measure to shade
him from the intense heat of the sun, on a small
eminence, from whence he had a fine view of
the mountain pass, the descending cavalry, and
the multitude by which lie was surrounded. He
had stationed himself, too, fortunately, at the
point where the prince was to pass, at whose
feet, wit h the ready submission of Eastern slaves,
SECULAR DEPARTMENT OF THE SOUTHERN CHRISTIAN ADVOCATE
all were now anxiously waiting to prostrate
themselves.
ihe attention of the living mass of human
beings had been so much engrossed by the par
ty which they considered as the harbingers of
the prince, that Everingion and his servant
were scarcely noticed, and they were standing
neatly alone, when a Circassian merchant, hav
young woman in his company, was seen
making his way through the crowd, and ap
proaching the orange-trees. The dress of the
man sufficiently indicated to the eye of Ever
ington his rank and wealth; had either been
doubtful, a glance at his companion would have
instantly removed them. The rich embroidered
velvet pantaloons, worn by the Persian ladies—
the splendid muslin robes—the shelega, or gir
dle, by which it was confined—the turban, fas
tened over a profusion of the finest looks, by
diamond but ons—and the rick Cashmerian
sliawi, which was thrown carelessly over her
head, and served, when necessary, the purpose
of a veij—all demonstrated that a person of no
ordinary rank stood before them.
‘•That is the rich merchant, Ilermap; and
that female, his daughter, Corolina, the most
beautiful girl ever seen in Persia, 1 ’ said Ilamors,
to Everington, as the strang :rs came up.
AHth the instinctive politeness which charac
terized Everington, he removed from his station
beneath the crange trees, that the young lady
and her father might have the benefit of the
shade. The young lady accepted the offer, but
the father declined ; and motioned to Evering
ton to resume his station, which thus brought
him in immediate contact with the fair Circas
sian.
A glance at the young lady showed that she
was tall and elegantly formed ; and the exact
symmetry of her person was shown by the dress
which Persian ladies know so well how to ar
range, Partly overcome by the fatigue of the
ride, and partly by the excessive heat of the
day, she no sooner found herself screened from
the sun by the orange bower, than she directed
her female attendants to divest her of her head
dress, and Everington had the happiness of see
ing the beautiful creature unveiled, and in all
her loveliness. Never had our young English
man beheld such a vision of beauty, as met his
eyes, in the surpassing girl before him; and
while he inwardly admitted the truth of llamors’
assertion, lie cursed the custom and the fate
that doomed such a lovely creature to be offered
in the market to minister to Persian vanity and
lust. It was evident, as had been hinted by
Hamors, that she was intended by her father for
the harem of the prince, should she be fortu
nate enough to attract ,his notice. No sooner
was her splendid turban removed, than her curl
ing tresses, thickly sprinkled with pearls and
gems, and unconfined, except by a single clasp
of brilliants, flowed around her neck and bosom,
in all their unrestrained luxuriance. She had
not alighted from her high-spirned and snow
white steed, which, with proudly arching neck,
and pointed ears, seemed justly vain of his
burden ; but with a countenance in which lofty
feeling was mingled with consoioui* purity and*
virgiu innocence, she -at, hardly sensible of the
interest she excited, and, like the goddess of
beauty, an object worthy of the involuntary
homage paid by all around her.
The troop of cavalry had now reached the
foot of the mountain, where they were received
with shouts by the assembled multitude, and
with the most profound respect by the mufii
and judges of the city. They announced that
the prince might be expected in half an hour,
and they, as harbingers of his approach, were
ordered to make the necessary arrangements for
his reception. They therefore speedily com
menced dividing the multitude into two divis
ions, which lined the road for a great distance
on both sides. In spite of some grumbling and
menaces on the part of the soldiers, at the ob
stinacy of the infidel, as they termed Evering
ton, he refused to quit his station, and main
tained his position beneath the orange trees,
and by the side of the enchanting Corolinn,
who had been joined, on the advance *of the
troops, by her father. Scarce had these pre
paratory measures been taken, when a discharge
of artillery from the mountain announced that
Abbas Mirza was at hand. Soon the advance
guard appeared winding over the rocky crest of
the pass, and in martial order descended to the
plain. They were splendidly attired, and
mounted on black horses ; the long horse-tails
of their caps streaming in the wind, and their
scimetars flashing like lightning in the bright
rays of the sun. Then came twenty elephants,
the first of the trophies of his victories over
the rebellious Affghans. These moved in sin
gle file down the pass, caparisoned as they were
when the fortunes of war placed them in the
possession of the Persian prince.
Following these came a train of two thousand
captives, the flower of the AtFghanistan army,
men who had escaped the hard fought, but de
cisive battle which had sealed their fate. They
were separated into divisions, by detachments
of the cavalry; and though bound and bare
headed, they showed no marks of cowardly de
jection, but bore the undaunted air of men,
brave and robust, but unfortunate indeed, and
conscious that the cause in which they were
suffering was just. One hundred of the bravest
of their number had been selected and put to
death, as examples to those who might hereafter
be engaged in such projects; and these were
reserved to serve as slaves of the victor in car
rying on those works of improvement he had
already projected. Then came a train of two
hundred Atfghan maidens, who had been torn
from the happy hills and valleys of their native
homes, to swell the train of the conquerors, and
in all the budding beauty of youth, were des
tined to increase the captor’s wealth by their
sale, or minister to the licentious appetites of
the musselmans, their inhuman masters. They
were unveiled, and as the beautiful train passed
the place where young Corolinn was sitting, a
sigh swelled her gentle bosom, and Everington
saw a tear trembling on the silken lashes of her
dark eye3, as slib gazed with interest on their
saddened features, and contrasted her situation
with theirs.
“Alas!” thought Everington, as he looked
•with admiration on the lovely girl, and saw
these proofs of her sensibility; “how little
difference is there between their doom and that
to which you are destined.”
Next came a train of five hundred led horses,
each attended by a slave, and their rich cajfiiri
sons, their long waving manes and tails, their
proud walk and curving necks, were a full
proof of their value, and the estimation in
which they were held. Then came the imperi
al flag of the empire, borne by the king’s stan
dard bearer, its broad folds of silk decorated
with the arms of Nadir Shah, ‘waving in the
wind. This splendid memento of Persian great-
Macon, Georgia, Friday, January 5, 18GG.
ness was always guarded by a chosen body of
nobles, who had sworn on the Koran to pre
serve it or perish. The prince’s hand of music
next followed in the procession, and over the
sweet notes of flute and tabor were heard at in
tervals the spirit-stirring notes of the Abyssin
ian trumpet; and the thundering peals of the
gong and tumbalon .choed from summit to sum
mit along the mountain and over the plain.
Amidst the discharge of cannon and the shout s
of the immense multitude, which seemed to
rend the air, next appeared the Prince Abbas
Mirza himself, dressed in the most rich and
splendid manner—his apparel glittering with
gold and diamonds—his beautiful milk-white
steed richly caparisoned, and impatiently spurn
ing the ground, over which the pace of the pro
cession compelled him to move at so slow a rate.
The prince appeared tc be not far from thirty;
of fine and commanding figure, and an exterior
which denoted the successor to the crown of
Persia. He managed his horse without the
least effort—aud ex ibited in every movement
that grace and ease for which the Persian in
Asia, like the Frenchman in Europe, is distin
guished. Then came, borne in closely covered
palanquins, on the shoulders of black eunuchs,
and surrounded by a guard of the same unfor
tunate race, the favorite wives and concubines
of the prince, those that constituted his harem,
but were now as always, effectually secluded
from the gaze of those around, and the critical
observation of the multitude. Then came an
other guards, and the procession
was closed by an immense rabble of all classes,
similar to that which awaited their arrival iu
the plain.
OLD GRIMES.
Old Grimes is dead—that good old man—
We ne’er shall see him more;
He wore a single-breasted goat
That buttoned down before.
•
His heart was open as the»day,
His feelings all were true;
His hair was some inclined to gray,
He wore it in a queue.
Whene’er was heard the voice of pain,
His breast with pity burned ;
The large round head upon his cane
From ivory was turned.
Thus ever prompt at pity’s call,
He knew no base design;
His eyes were dark, and rather small,
His nose was aquiline.
He lived at peace with all mankind,
In friendship he was true;
His coat had pocket holes behind,
His pantaloons were 1 lue.
But poor old Grimes is new at rest,
Nor fears misfortune's frown;
He had a double breasted vest,
The stripes ran up and down.
He modest merit sought to find,
And pay it its dea -jrjp;
He had no matioe in his mind,
No rutile or his shir '? *
His neighbors he did not abuse;
Was sociable and gay ;
He w’ore not rights and lefts for shoes,
But ghanged them every day.
His knowledge, hid from public gaze,
He nevi r brought to view ;
Nor made a noise town-rneeting days,
As many people do.
Thus undisturbed by anxious cares,
His peac- ful moments rail;
And everybody said ho wa >
A fine old gentleman.
Albert G. Greene.
THE BARING BROTHERS.
The Barings came to Exeter from Bremen,
and Matthew fixed himself at Larkbar, (the
Larochbere of Saxon times,) to carry on the
woollen trade with foreign lands, a trade of
which, in the West of England, Exeter was the
centre. The reputation and the success of the
house of the Barings was mainly owing to the
business habits, the prudenee, and the activity
of the wife of Matthew, whose name was tra
ditionally known as Madame Baring.
The ladies in those days took an active part
in the management of thejr husbands’ affairs.
They superintended the laoors of the women
engaged as burlers, who pulled the goods over
benches, and with burling irons, a sort of large,
sharply pointed tweezers, held in the right hand,
picked out the black knots, and other defects
left by the weavers, which, with a whisk in the
left hand, they swept into open bags at their
sides. It was one of the duties of the mistress
to now and then go from one end to the other of
the long line of burlers, encouraging the dili
gent and reprehending the lazy.
Matthew Baring fully appreciated the servi
ces of his wife, and built for her on the banks
of the river a handsome fishing house of brick,
from whose windows she could uninterruptedly
and comfortably indulge in piscatorial amuse
ments. Pollutions have driven away the fish,
the fishing-house has been mzed to its founda
tion ; the fisher-lady has b?yp long slumbering
under the turf of the St. LeotjjTd cemetery, and
the memento raised over her burial place by
her eldest son, John, the senior partner of the
great house of John and Francis Baring,, has
wholly disappeared.
Most of the members of the family are inter
red in the church yard thus described, which
was separated from their domicil of Mount
Dadford only by a bridge thrown across the
public road, but some of them repose in the
“Saints’ Rest;” of the Exeter Presbyterians,
and others in a very pretty but obscure burial
place attached to a Unitarian chapel, a few miles
from the city.
John and Francis Baring were both men of
singular sagacity. Perhaps they forasaw the
decliue and decay of that staple trade upon
which their father had laid the foundation of
his own and their prosperity ; at all events they
sought a wider field than Exeter offered.
I had in my possession a copy of a tender for
part of a loan to the British Government, in the
reign of George 11., in which the ambifion of
the great house of the Brothers Baring was
limited to the adveuture of three hundred
pounds sterling. Two peerages and a baronet
cy, and what millions upon millions have been
since associated with the name. —All the Year
Round. ,
The best description of weakness we have
ever heard, is the wag’s query tq'his wife, when
she gave him some chicken broth, if she would
not try to coax that chicken ju?t to wade through
the soup once more.
AN INVOLUNTARY AERONAUT.
n 1852 a celebrated aeronaut advertised that
he would make an ascension from Oakland,
California. It was a total novelty to. niue
teuths ot those whom he addressed, and the
public rushed thither in crowds. In the cen
tre of the space from which the ascent was to
be made the huge sphere floated, held down to
vulgar earth by a dozen ropes, grasped by as
many persons selected from the bystanders.
Ihe navigator of the heavens had not yet m !e
his appearance, and the audience were getting
impatient, as manifested by their shouts and
curses. He was probably playing freeze-out
poker with some flush miner, in some adjoining
tavern ala Artemus Ward, and could not be
choked off. lu.a few minutes more the “ma
chine would have been tom to shreds, when,
a gu-t of wind arising, the balloon was sudden
ly wrenched from the hands that held it, and
rushed like a rocket straight toward the clouds.
Did we say wrenched from all? No—not from
all ! A cry of horror rose from the lately tur
bulent crowd; for there, clingiug to a slight
wooden cross-piece attached to one of the cords,
was a small, dark object, which every one pro
nounced to baa human being. A lad who had
been selling papers among the throng was one
of those who had volunteered to hold the guys,
and not being sufficiently alert, he had been
earned oft with the balloon. The spectators
were appalled, and every obsei’ver momentarily
expected to see him drop; But the young ad
venturer had no such idea, and those wlio had
glasses saw him clamber, monkey-like up the
coid, and seat himself astride the cross-piece.
Upward the balloon ascended, till, in the glow
ing i ays of the sun, it seemed like a speck; then
vanished altogether, sailing northward. It
wouljl have been difficult just then to have in
suied the life of that boy at any premium. As
for the involuntary aeronaut, what must have
been his feelings as he found himself thus sev
ered from the firm earth to which he had been
accustomed ! At first his little heart was in his
throat, and he seemed to have suddenly fallen
from some vast height into an abyss of fathom
less air. The world vanished instantaneously
from sight. The boy had unfortunately wound
the cord about his hands in such a manner that
it was impossible to let go at once. Yet know
ing the fate that awaited him should he fall, he
had, by the exertion of an amount of strength
wonderful in one so young, contrived to assume
the position of comparative safety already no
ted. Ihere he saw the wind-driven clouds of
a diflerent. stratum rush past him with frightful
velocity, and, looking down, could dimly dis
cern the landscape, and the ocean with its ships,
spread out as on a map. During the afternoon
the people of Benicia saw the car dash by, and
little thought of the throbbing heart that, from
that awful eminence, awaited in cold and anxie
ty the coming night. The blood began to con
geal in the veins of the little traveler; the act
of breathing grew difficult; his muscles, increas
ed to such a fearful tenison, were beginning to
relax; a numbness seizing on the fluffs
tb,u gv;j.3ped cord. Afc w minutes rnJ-e
must evidently terminate the fearfulridethrougn
space. All at once the rope attached to the
valve was thrown against the boy. He clutch
ed it in his despair as an additional hold upon
life. Boy! The valve opens! The gas rapid
ly escapes ! I lie balloon is at once nearer the
earth ! It rushes into tfle leafy embrace of a
grove of trees, and after a violent struggle, rests.
When some ranch men, who had been watching
the descent, reached the spot, they found the
young adventurer seated on the ground at the
foot of an oak, looking the very picture of as
tonishment, but none, the worse for his journey,
except a few scratches.
We have heard of persons whose hair, from
terror, turned gray in a single night. The hair
of the lad, on coming down, was a bright red,
but as it was red before he went up, we don’t
know that this was anything remarkable. We
meet him—the boy then, the man now—daily;
he looks like any other mortal, and seems to have
forgotten altogether the circumstances to which
he was indebted for his elevation.— California
Mercury.
Why so much beauty in Poland. —“ B
ecause,” said Bayard Taylor, “there, girls do
not jump from infancy to young ladyhood. They
are not sent from the cradle to the parlor, to
dress, to sit still and look pretty. No, they are
treated as children should be. During child
hood, which extends through a period of seve
ral years, they are plainly and loosely dressed,
and allowed to run, romp and play in the open
air. They are not loaded down, girded about,
and oppressed every way with countless frills or
superabundant flounces, so as to be admired for
their clothing. Nor are they rendered delicate
or dyspeptic by continual stuffing with candies
and sweet-cakes, as are the majority of Ameri
can children. Plain, simple food, free aud va
ried exercise, and abundance of sunshine du
ring the whole period of childhood, are the
secrets of beauty iu after life.”
Babies. —The effect babies have on progres
sion is self-evident. No one ever knew a baby
inferior to any preceding baby. On the con
trary, each one is a little in advance of any yet
born ; and when we think of the vast number
yet to be, and how every one will be a trifle su
perior to its predecessor, what a glorious future
awaits us 1 We shall eventually reach perfec
tion. How can those persons who believe that
we retrograde instead of progress, reconcile this
fact with their absurd theory ?
" '*•••* 7
Unmarried people often kill themselves;
married ones each other.
“Death’s door” is an uncomfortable one to
be at; debt’s a good deal more so.
If in all duels and prize-fights both parties
were killed, the world would be the gainer there
by.
By the sound of a lady’s laugh, we can tell
whether her teeth are good or bad. If they are
bad, the tone of the laugh is modified by com
ing through puckered and compressed lip§.
If you are yourself a lazy liver, you will pro
bably be affected with one.
Brain without pluck is as valueless as pluck
without brain.
When is an undertaker like one of his own
jobs? When he’s a eoughin.*
W hy is it vtilgar to send a telegram ? Because
it is making use of flash language.
Dove in men is like th® distemper in dogs.
Neither puppies nor men are Worth anything
until they have had it. *
Yol. L—No. 1.
% souse, J"rm mb fttrW.
=====77 J,'.' , "-S3
For the Mirror of the Times.
GARDENING,—THE TWO NEIGH
BORS.
W— lives in a grove of forest-trees. He
has a few horses and a few cowl Mto—
D’cembet—he is raking up his leaves and
throwing them into his stable iind cow pen.
Vyhen trampled fine and intermixed with
his stable and cow-pen manures, he intends
to remove and put the marureon hisgarden,
where, by deep plowing or spading he will
cover, it up to mellow and enrich his soil;
when next year—as it was this year—ne ex
p cts to have a luxuriant crop of lettuce,
squashes, cabbage, tomatoes, ontOLs, turs
tips, salsify, etc., etc.
J lives in a grove, too, just over the
way in full view of W. Mr. J. has stock,
stables, lots, etc., but it so happens that
whenever there is a little sunshine and
gentle brec.z?, Mr. W sees asmoke at Mr.
J—s Well, what of that, you say ? Well,
the writer says this : Mr. j— ought to do
with his leaves and lots as Mr. W— does,
if either he, his wife, or children love veg
etables. “ Provided. nevertheless ”if he burns
his leaves and neglects the culture of his
garden, and yet he or his ciave vegetable
diet next year, they ought to beg it of some
one who lives too far awav trim them to
witness this trequent cor fiigration for the
purpose of saving labor in raking leaves,
etc. So thinks the
Writeb.
December, 1865.
—«► . - -
Tcrntps.—ln this country our farmers do not
place a proper estimate upon the green or root
crops. The cereal orops occupy their attention
to the neglect of others. The turnip is by far
the most valuable of the root crops. It contains
a large amount of nutrition, and as a food for
cattle it is unsurpassed. In producing turnips,
the demand for the cereals is lessened, and as
tlie cultivation of the latter, generally, is more
Laborious and difficult than that of the former,
an advantage is to be secured by a change in
our system of farming. In Great Britain and
other countries, the turnip is regarded as an
important product of the farm, and it. is culti
vated on a large scale. In some districts it con
stitutes the principal article of food for cattle
during the fall and winter. Nothing aids more
in improving the condition of cattle or horses
than a free supply of good and sweet turnips.
While they afford nourishment they keep the
bowels regular aud the system in a healthy state.
Many of our most successful breeders feed their
fine horses upon turnips aud carrots in the win
ter, and when they form an article of food, the
animals thrive and look well. Nothing gives
sucb a s/nootli and glossy coat to flieraeo'-hcrsc
as a judicious supply of turnips. We trust that
our farmers will soon learn to place a high value
upon the root crops, and cultivate them upon a
larger scale than they do at the present.— Field
and Farm.
• Eggs.— -These luxuries are now “five for a
quarter,” and dangerous to handle even at that
price, if you deal with a grocer who picks them
up hero and there, regardless of age. We take
it for granted, however, that our agricultural
readers never purchase eggs. Their vocation
should keep them in supply, and with ordinary
care and attention - to their fowls, eggs will bo
plenty. There is much in breed in egg-laying
qualities. But the most is in good treatment—
making the hens at home. A crowded place
will not do. Too many hens together is bad.
Why? Because it interferes with tranquility.
The points of success are: Warm quarters}
roomy, clean, unmolested; plenty of food; a
variety of feed, varied daily with animal food of
some.kind, it matters little what; water changed
often; pulverized earth to wallow in; light, and
as much cheerfulness as possible. Then select
good bree ,s. The middle-sized Dominique, sin
gle combs, yellow legs, are perhaps the best.
The Spanish are good layers, so are the Creoles.
Brahma Fowls.—A writer in the Western
Rural says. The BrahmaPootra is a most valu
able variety, being hardy, beautiful, and excel
lent in every respect. Although bearing a close
resemblance to the Cochin, it is a distinct breed.
Their habits are quite dissimilar and their eggs
larger. The hens excel as mothers and layers
of fine large eggs during the winter. Even when
snow covers the ground, they lay regularly an
average' of five eggs a week. .The pullets attain
full size at an early age, and are in their prime
when eight months old. The worst accusation
their enemies can.advance against them is, that
no one knows their origin. All in England are
descended from fowls imported from the United
States, and the best account of them is, that a
sailor appeared in an American city with anew
kind of fowl for sale, and that a pair bought
from aim were the parents of all the Brahmas.
Rice Croquettes.— Wash well offie tcftcupful
of rice ; put it to boil in a pint of milk, and the
same of water, until quite tender, but dry; while
hot, add a piece of butter the size of an egg, two
tablespoonfuls of white sugar, two eggs, the rice
and grated peel of lemon; stir this up well;
have ready the yolks of two eggs beaten on a
plate, somq fine cracker crumbs on another;
make up the rice with your hands in rolls about
three inches long and two inches round; dip in
to the egg, then inft* the crumbs; fry 'them in
hot lard to a light brown. Serve hot.
Bread Pudding. — Take a pound pf stalls
bread; boil a quart of milk; pour it on the
bread, and let it soak one or two hours ; thefl
rub it quite fine with the hands.* Beat up four,
or five eggs, and add them to it; also a table
spoonful o*‘ cinnamon, or any other kind of spice,
two cups of sugar, and a little chopped suet, or
a quarter of a pound of butter. Bake or boil„it
two hours.
Moss Biscuits.—Weigh half a pound of flour,
to which add an ounce and a half of butter and
five ounces of sugar, rub them well together,
and mix with one whole and one white of egg,
and a teatqjoonful of milk, then add two ounces
of ground almonds, which rub well into the
paste; afterwards rub the whole through a’gauza
sieve, taking it off in small pieces, which lay
upon a lightly-buttered baking-sheet, an 1 bake,
them in a moderate oven.
T.ooth Wash. —The oafest, cheapest, most
universally accessible, and most efficient., ft a
piece of white so*p, with a moderately stiff tooth
brush, every morning. 1