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#rpial, * " v KOH THE inheresdent PRESS. JAncs in Memory o f Mrs. fl. «. ». The spring returns with brightening sky, And flowers exhale their rich pepflime®, As \vhen ttyr littering lmnd was jiigh 'l'o train their vines, or pluck their blooms. The boo is huint&ing rovitu} file flower, Tlie mock-bird sings his merry h»y, The thrush is hiding in the bower. And laughing children run and play. Wv miss thee in the garden walk, \Ve miss thy foot-stops in the hall. Thy gentle smile, thy pleasant talk, Thy merry laugh—we miss them all. Wo miss thee at the social board. \V> miss thee nightly ’round pie hejuth, We miss thee when our hearts are stored With sorrow, or with gladsome mirth. The sod is on thy pulseless* breast. The grass is growing on thy grave— Thonr't sleeping in thy long, long rest — We buffet life’s relentless wave. } lojtely oij the canvass gazed, And ss\v the copy of thy smile — Thine eve that now in death is glazed, And mused m reverie the while. Thine eye from oil' the canvass bent Its mellow my into my heart, And memory to thine image lent jjp {rue a look, it made me start 1 Jolt as ( itoiigh that same mild eye Which looked in kindness on me here, ."till gazed upon me from the sky. And silently 1 dropped a tear. Well thou art happy —why should we Indulge a wish to have thee back?— Tis I>etter that we go to thee— For Heaven has joys which earth must lack. April 22d, 1851. #lio. [FROM THE KNICKERBOCKER.] \\'Hrt Turkey JMtmtiug. The reading public, especially of tlie West ami South, have become familiar w ith the writings of Thomas B. Thorpe. j II is characteristics arc great clearness j ami simplicity of style, close observation j of nature and character, and a certain! <lrv humor.of description, which is espe cially captivating. sketch of “Tom < )we.v, the Bee-Hunter" is an excellent illustration of his felicity in this regard; and his picture of “Wild Turkey-Shoot ing" is another 'case in point.’ We can sec what is the fact, that the writer is an ar tist, and that in writing, as in painting, a picture is always before him. Observe | the following admirable description of the habits of the wild-turkey. The way j he looks out for himself is ‘a caution , •We once knew an Indian, celebrated j lor all wood craft, who made a comfort - able living by supplying a frontier town with game. Often did he greet the vil lagers with loads of venison, with hear, with grouse, but seldom, indeed, did he offer the esteemed turkey for sale. Up on being reproached for his seeming in capacity to kill theturkey, by those who desired the bird, he defended himself as 1 follows: •Me meet moose; he stop to eat, me shoot him. Me meet bear; he climb a tree —no see Indian; me shoot him.— Me meet deer: he lookup—say may be Indian, may be stump —and me shoot ’him. Me see. turkey great way off; he look up and say, Indian coining, sure; mono shoot turkey; lie cunning too jnuehf * •» x ‘l rather think," said a turkey-hunter, •if vou want to find a. thing eery cunning, von need not go to the fox, or such var mints, but take a gobbler. I once hunt ed regular after the same one for three j years, and never saw him twice. I knew the critter’s ‘yelp’ as well as 1 knew Music’s, mv old deer-dog; and his track was as plain to me as the trail of a log hauled through a dusty road. •| hunted the gobblin' always in the same ‘range,’ and about the same old -scratchins,’ and he got so, at last, that when I ‘called.’ he would run from me, taking the opposite direction to rny foot track ‘Now, the old rascal kept a great deal i on a ridge, at the end of which, where j it lost itself in the swamp, was a hollow i cypress tree. Determining to outwit j him, I put on rny shoes, lied, is- foremost , j walked leisurely down the ridge, and got; into the hollow tree, and gave a ‘call/ and boys, said the speaker, cxultingly, •il would have done you good to see that turkey coming toward me in a trot, look ing at my tracks, and thinking 1 had J gone the other way.' vC” "/•’ 'X* •;/ •They seem incapable old icing deeeiv- , -•d, amt taking everything strange as j possessed t<> them of danger—whether it j he a moth out of season, or a veteran | hunter—they appear to common, or tin- j common observers, annihilated front the j country, were it not for their foot-prints occasionally to be seen in the soft soil be side the running stream, or in the light dust in the beaten road, ‘A veteran gobbler, used to all the tricks of the hunter’s art; one who has had his wattles cut with shot; against whose well-defended breast lias struck the spent ball of the rifle; one who, al though almost starved, would walk by Ihe treasures of grain in the ‘trap’ and •pen;’ a gobbler who will listen to the plaintivo note of the female until he. has tried its quavers, its length, its repeti tions, by every rule nature has given him; and then perhaps npt answer, ex cept in a smothered voice, for fear of be ing deceived ; such a turkey will \V , select t<> break it lance with, and, in spite of the chances against him, win. ‘The turkey hunter armed with his •call/ starts into the forest; he bears up on his shoulder the trusty gun. He is h itjUiyhe that lie unexpectedly hears u mdse, s^undjpg like distant, thunder ;he then knows dipt he i* in close proximi ty of the game, and that he has disturb ed it to tlight. W|fen such is the ease, his work is comparatively done. ‘We will, for illustration, select a more difficult hunt The day wears toward noon; the patient hunter has met no ‘sign/ when suddenly a slight noise is heard, not unlike, to unpraetioed pars, a thousand other wood-land sounds f the hunter listens; again the sound is heard as if a pebble dropped into the bosom of a little lake. It rnav be that woodpeck er, who, desisting from his labors, has opened his bill to yawn; or, perchance, vender little bird so industriously feed ing among the dead leayes of that young holly. Again, precisely the same sound is heard; yonder, high in the heavens, is a solitary hawk, winging its WU .Y over the forests; its rude scream etherealized, might, come down to our ears, in just such a spund as igade the turkey-hunter listen; again the same note; now more distinct. The quick ear of the hunter is satisfied; stealthily he intrenches him self behind a fallen tree, a. few green t wigs are placed before him, from among which protrudes the muzzle of his deadly weapon. •‘Thus prepared, he takes his ‘call/ and gives one solitary ‘‘cluck,' so exquisitely that it chimes in with the running brook and the rustling leaf. •It may be, that a half a mile off, if the place be favorable for conveying sound, is feeding a ‘gobbler / prompted by his nature, as lie quickly scratches up the herbage that conceals his food, he gives utterance to the sounds that first attracted the hunter’s attention. ‘Poor bird! he is bent on filling his crop; his feelings are listless, common place; Ids wings are awry; the plgmage on his breast seems spiled with rain; his wattles arc contracted and pale—look! lie starts! —every feather is instantly in its place; he raises his delicate game looking head full four feet from the ground, and listens; what an eye; what a stride is suggested by that lifted foot! gradually the head sinks; again the bright plumage grows dim, and with a low cluck, he resumes his search for food. •The treasures of the American forest are before him; the choice pecan-nut is neglected for that immense ‘grub worm’ that rolls down the decayed stump, too large to crawl; now that grasshopper is nabbed; presently a hill of ants presents itself, and the bird leans over it, and, with wondering curiosity, peering .down the. tiny hole of its en trance, out of which are issuing the in dustrious insects. ‘Again that cluck greets his ear; up rises the head with lightning swiftness; the bird starts forward a pace or two, looks around in wonder, and answers back. ‘No sound is heard but the falling acorn: and it fairly echoes, as it rattles from limb to limb, and dashes off to the ground. ‘The bird is uneasy; lie picks pettish ly, smoothes down his featners, elevates his head slowly, and then brings it to the earth; raises his wings as if for flight, jumps upon the limb of a fallen tree, looks about, settles down finally into a brown study, and evidently commences thinking. ‘Anhour may have elapsed; he has resolved the matter over; his imagina tion has become inflamed; he has heard just enough to icish to hear more , he is sat isfied that no turkey-hunter uttered the sounds that reached his ear, for they were too few and far between ; and then there rises up in his mind some discon solate mistress, and he gallantly flies down from his low perch, gives his body a swaggering motion, and utters a dis tinet and prolonged clack, significant of both surprise and joy. ‘On the instant, the dead twigs near by crack beneath a heavy tread, and he starts off under the impression that he is caught; but the meanderings of some ruminating cow inform him of his mis take. Composing himself, lie listens; ten minutes since ho challenged, when a low cluck in. the distance reaches his ears. ‘Now, our gobbler is an old bird, and has several times, as if by a miracle, es caped from harm with his life; he has grown very cunning indeed. ‘He wil l not roost two successive nights upon the same tree, so that day-light never exposes him to the hunter, who lias hidden himself away in the night to kill him in the morning’s dawn. ‘lie never gobbles without running a short distance at least, as if alarmed at the noise he makes himself; he pre sumes everything is suspicious and dan gerous, and his experience has height ened tlie instinct. ‘Twice, when young, was he coaxed within gun-shot, but got clear by some fault of the percussion caps; after that, lie was fooled by art idle school-boy, who was a kind of ventriloquist, and would have been slain had not the urchin over loaded his gun. ‘Three-times did he come near being killed by heedlessly wandering with his thoughtless play-fellows. ‘Once he was caught in a ‘pen/ and got out by an over-looked hole in its top. ‘Three feathers of bust year’s ‘fan/ de cayed under the weight of a spring-trap. ‘All this experience has made him a ‘deep’ bird ; and he will sit and plume himself, when common hunters are toot ing away, but never so wisely as to de ceive him twice. They all reveal them selves by over-stepping the modesty of nature, and woo kirn too muck; his loves are far more coy, far less intrusive. ‘Poor bird! he does not know that W ia spreading his snare for him, and is even then so sure of his victim as to be revolving in his mind whether ids goodly carcass should be a present to a newlyrinarried friend, or be served up in savory fumes, front his own bachelor ! but hospitable, board.’ It was tlie fate of that unlucky gob bler to follow hundreds of Ids predeces sors ; and as to ‘how if was done/ the reader will karri bv perusing the “Hive of the Bee-hunter,” which wo cordially commend to his perusal. ■ •p~ - -*«-» «*’- ~- France has now an international treaty with nearly every book-produe- ■ -'lg£/ Aiiunilintal. FOR TIIE INDEPENDENT PRESS. Georgia Karon , 4’c, Mr, Editor : —lt is a question among (Georgia Planters whether or pot, bacon raised in this State, or at least in this seetiqn, on corn alone, is cheaper than that bought from the Tennesseeans or Kentuckians. It certainly appears somewhat unnatural for a planter to buy bacon, and the purchase of it is a great tax; but it is equally certain that bacon, raised on corn alone, where corn com piands the price it does in Middle Geor gia, is very dear bacon. Three different opinions prevail among us on the sub ject of hog raising. Some of our plant ers sav it is cheaper for us to raise our own bacon, where we have a good range for hogs, and are not compelled to feed them entirely on corn; but that where there is not a good range, and the hog is fed on corn alone, it is cheap er to buy bacon than to raise it—es pecially when corn is worth a dollar a bushel. Others of our planters say it is cheap er for each one to raise Ids own bacon, whatever be the food he uses, and how ever great the price it commands. ■ Others still, say that the Georgian never can, on any plan, let him use what food lie may, raise his bacon as cheap as he.can buy it. For the honor of our State, I will say that the last named class, constitute a very small minority of Georgia planters. I noticed in the first number of the “Press,” a communication on hog rais ing, the writer of which is, I think, on the right track of raising cheap bacon. The article I allude to is signed “Farm er.” I propose to give you a plan for raising bacon, which is the plan of “Farmer,” to some extent, but which in cludes a still greater variety of articles of food for tlie hog, some of which arc still cheaper than corn-field peas and ground-peas, and which consequently, still farther lessen the cost of raising ba con. Before giving you ray plan, 1. will briefly consider the plan of sowing small grain, especially oat.s arid rye, for hogs. I am opposed to any very extensive sowing of oats or rye, because they yield so little and impoverish land so quickly. Small grain is cut, or if not cur, usually falls down, early in the summer, and leaves the laud exposed to the scorch ing rays of the sun. during tlie whole of our fervid summer. This scorching, in addition to the trampling of the stock, exerts a very enervating influence on the soil; besides, the quick growth of small-grain crops, is said to lie a. great drain on the fertile qualities of the soil. I do not insist on the latter opinion, but am confident that the exposure to the sun is very injurious. Then rye, always, unless land is very rich, and oats frequently, yields so little to the acre, that it requires a great many acres indeed, to be of any essential ser vice in the feeding of hogs ; and I am of opinion, that a planter had better plant something on his land which re quires cultivation, in order to keep the land mellow, which will shade the land during the summer, and which will final ly yield him more than he can expect from either oats or rye. 1 know the argument of the advocates of small-grain is, that small-grain yields as much on ordinary land, in proportion to the amount of labor bestowed, as does cot ton or corn, or anything else, which re quires a great deal of labor in the cul tivation. The answer to this argument, will also be the answer to another idea of the small-grainists. They say that a man must fence in his old fields and his waste lands, sow therm down, and reserve his best lands for cotton and corn. That in this way, he can make as much corn and cotton as he would on any plan, and then with only one ploughing, make a large quantity of oats and rye extra. My answer to both these ideas is, that a man should own no more cleared land than he is able and willing to cul tivate’, and cultivate well. That all the land lie owns above this, is so much dead capital. The object should not be to cultivate the greatest quanity of land with the smallest amount of labor, un less some method is discovered of ob taining a good yield with this lessened labor. The object should bo, to raise the greatest amount of produce on the smallest quantity of land; and as long as the planter has unimproved lands, he should expend his extra labor and capi tal to improve those lands and bring them to a high state of cultivation, in stead of laying out Ids money for more land, to wear out, and lie in waste ; thus locking up his capital, so that it will yield him scarcely any return. In line, m counting the clear yield of any crop, not only the cost of the labor bestowed should be counted, but the price and quantity of kind, which it takes to pro- S duee a given crop. i But lam going much further with this idea than 1 intended. Perhaps in a fu ture communication 1 will amplify it, and bring it fully before your readers. Now to sav something of my fancied : improvements on the plan of “ banner. ’ Lie provides, by means of corn-field ; peas —one variety of which, the ‘‘speck led,’’ ripens by the middle of August or first of September-Aground-peas, or unci s,\y;oot potu toe;% tor tuo tombbr till the last of March the guc: codding year, with scarcely any corn for stock-hogs and but little for the fatten ing hogs. Then occurs a long interval, from last of March to first of September, during which the hogs must be fed on com. 1 propose to supply tins deficiency in the plan of “Farmer,” and this is tlie plan. Select from your poorest land, near the house, ten, fifteen, or twenty five acres, with a branch running through it. If it is grown up in broom sedge, cultivate it a year or two to get rid of this pest, then at the time when you plant peach seed, sow this land in plum seed, and plough them in. The next Spring, your seed will come up and grow very readily, I care not how poor the land is. If the seed come up too thick, it will be an easy matter to thin them, by ploughing through them once and following the ploughs to pull up scions not ploughed entirely up. It is best though, to let them stand so thick as not to require or admit of cultivation, as in this, consists a great deal of the cheapness of the plan. In a few years, you will have a quan tity of plum trees bearing fruit, which will begin to ripen by the middle of May and continue dropping off, if you are careful in selecting plums which ri pen at different stages of the Summer, till the first early peaches begin to ripen ; which will be the very last of June or first of July. Put your hogs in this plum orchard as soon as the first plums begin to drop off’ and they are amply provided for, until peaches begin to ripen. These plum trees, unlike the small grain spoken of, will prove a great fer tilizer of the soil, by effectually shading it, and feeding it with an abundance of vegetable matter. In the course of years, if you wish to reclaim this land for cotton, cut it down, and you will find it has become rich land. But to go back to the hogs. We have brought them on to the first of July ; and then with a good peach orchard, they arc safe till the last of ScptombcA. A friend of mmc raised a clie/ap or chard in the following manner. He laid off his ground in, checks, the dis tance lie Wanted. his peach trees, then planted two peach seed in each check. They came up very well, with but few missing places, and these missing places were supplied by scions from the checks where two had come up. The orchard is now in its third year, and growing beautifully. We have in our orchard, a kind of yellow peach, too sour to eat raw, but excellent for peach custards which arc almost equal to lemon custards —first rate for hogs—which hangs on the tree till nearly frost —long after the first corn field peas begin to ripen ; and by raising these peaches, and the speckled peas, you can, not only make the two ends meet in the matter of hog feeding, but you can make them lap a good ways over. And now, having brought the hogs through to pea time, I resign them into the hands of “Farmer,” who, with his peas, goobers and potatoes feeds them during the fall and winter and until the “first of March,” when ho turns them out “in fine order.” Surely if we can feed hogs during nearly ten months of the year, with scarcely any corn, we can afford to feed them on corn the remaining two and a half months, and find it cheaper to raise bacon in this way than to buy it. I hope to see tlie day when every planter in Geor gia will not only raise his own ba con, but will raise enough to supply the demand for it on the part of those in our State who are not planters, and who, of a consequence arc compel led to buy their bacon ; and thus wo can stop at least one of the streams by which Kentucky and Tennessee are drawing from us our capital. GEORGIAN. Turnwold, May Bth, 1854. Mcligion in the Staten. Cincinnati, March 1-1, 1854. — N0t, the least valuable or interesting part of the balance of national statistics is the part relating to Religion. It enables us to ascertain precisely how the support of the Church on voluntary principles, compares with that of the State Churches in other countries, and to ascertain al so the relative strength of the religious principle in this country. In examining these statistics, there is no need of con sidering the great number of sects, separated by little more than a name; but we should rather look at them in the light of great divisional principles. On the great divisional principles, I think there are, in the general, but five, viz: Trinitarian and Unitarian, Papal and anti-Papal, Baptist and anti-Baptist, Episcopal and anti-Episcopal, Evangeli cal and anti-Evangelieal. With very slight exceptions, these divisions em brace all religious sects, and it will be instructive to look at them in that point of view. l'As TO THE Trinity. —lt is gener ally understood that a large portion of the sect called “Christaina ” and a small part of the Uni versa lists, are Unitarians in principle. In order to be certain of not underrating the Unitarians, I shall set down all the Oh.rista.ins,” one third of the Uni versa lists, and the Unitarians proper, as anti-Trinitarian. In estima ting the proportions, I shall take the number of churches; for, although that is by no means a perfectly accurate mode, yet it is the best we have. The church# 1 accommodation" is no .standard at all. in ffcfbrepgP to the number who Attend. The statement of Trinitarian and Unita rian/ then, stands thus: Unitarian Churches, - - - 252 Christian Churches, - • - 853 One-third Universalist Churches, - 176 Aggregate of Unitarian Churches,-1,- 271.' " Comparing this with tho whole num ber of churches, we have: Whole num ber, 88,061; Unitarian, 1,271. Pro portion of Unitarian, 3 per cent. This is a larger proportion than probably most persons suppose, but it is quite small compared with the whole number of people. The Unitarian churches are not so well tilled as in most other sects. Half a million, or one fiftieth part of the entire population, will probably cover the whole Unitarian persuasion of all sorts. 2 Papal and Anti-Papal.—The number of Roman Catholics in this coun try can be very nearly ascertained; for, in addition to the Census, avc have tho Roman Chatholio Almanac, with an ac count of their priests, and churches. By the Census we have the result: Roman Catholic churches, 1221; whole number of churches, 88,061 —about 8 per cent. The Roman Catholic church presents this remarkable contrast to the Unitarian—that while the former are very thinly attended, the later is crowd ed; as Mass is attended at different hours of the day, the number of people is much greater in proportion, than in the Protestant cl lurches. By the Roman Catholic Almanac for 1851, I find that tho entire Roman Catholic population is estimated at about 2,100,000; and comparing this with other data, 1 be lieve it very near correct. About 1 in 12 of the American people are Roman Catholic, and about 1 in 10 of the whole population. 8. Baptist and Anti-Baptist.—The question oflmmersion makes one of the great divisional differences in the Church. The result on that question, including the minor sects of Baptists, is thus: Baptist churches, 9,375; aggre gate number of churches, 23,061: churches of Immersion, 25 per cent. This distinction is a very important one, for the Baptists have a close communion, which is not the case with other Protes tant sects. 4. Episcopal and Anti-Episcopal. —This is a question of Church govern ment, but a most important one; for it is a question whether tho Church shall have a dominant hierarchy. It is just the same question as that between a political Aristocracy and a Democracy. It is not a question whether a common minister of the Church is an Episcopos —a Bishop; but whether a certain class of ministers, call Bishops, shall hold pow er —either in whole, or part. The Churches which hold to Episcopal hier archy, are the Roman Catholic, the Episcopalian, and the Episcopal Metho dist. In each of these the Bishop, perse, holds a certain amount of positive and peculiar power. The aggregate and proportion of these Churches stand thus: Roman Catholic Churches - 1,221 Episcopalian Churches - - 1,450 Methodist Churches - - 10,000 Churches holding to Episcopacy 12,680 Proportion of the whole, 38 percent. The above three bodies are, perhaps, as antagonistic to each as any that can be named; but they unite in the adoption of the Episcopal principle 5. Evangelical and Anti-Evangeli cal, —This is the most important dis tinction, for it involves two great prin ciples \ first, the onward movements of the Church; and secondly , that move ment in accordance with the standard of Protestant Orthodoxy. Evangelism is the dissemination of the Gospel, but in the modern language of the Church, it is the dissemination of a •free Gospel— without responsibility to a special Church hierarchy, and adhering only to the fundumentaf articles of Protestant faith. Hence it rejects the Papal Church on one hand and the Unitarian on the other; audits work is mainly carried on bv voluntary efforts. The Evan gelical Churches, so called, are all the Protestant Orthodox Churches, although some of them (jealous of voluntary so cieties) choose to disseminate Biules and missionaries by their own organiza tion. The Evangical Churches stand thus: Presbyterian Churches - • 4,824 Congregational Churches - - 1,706 Dutch Deformed Churches - - 860 German Reformed Churches - - 888 Three-fourths Lutheran Churches - 918 Three-fourths Baptists Churches - 7,040 Episcopal Churches - - 1,459 Friends Churches - - - 762 Methodist Churches - - - 18,280 Moravian (Lurches - - - 828 Evangelical Churches - 29,944 , Aggregate Churches - 38,041 Evangelical Churches - 79 percent. I have excluded a small portion of the Baptists and Lutheran Churches, the former as opposed to all Missions, and the latter, as Rationalists. T have included all the Episcopalians and the Friends —because, though acting in their own mode , they are, nevertheless, Protes tant Evangelists. It will be thus seen, that four-fifths of the Churches of the United States belong to the Protestant faith, w hich is the type of the American Church. In this respect, they belong to the Religious Democracy; which has been evidently modified by the Politi cal. Its great characteristics are the love of Religious Liberty and the zeal ofpropagandism. In regard to the number of people at tending Church, we have these data. One-th ird of the whole number of peo ple are either small % ohildrert, sick or in firm. These must be excluded from the church-goers. Wo then”have this result: Two-thirds population, about - 16,000,000 Number of Churches - - 38,061 Number of people to each church - 421 Now it appears there is a church pro vision for each /our hundred and twenty persona able to attend. Now, with this fact before us. I see no reason to believe that any large num ber of the American people either can not or do not attend public worship. .Oil the contary, I believe there is imi cli exaggeration on that subject,,! Our cities are the real waste places m I'tg.ud to church woe-hip, Neither jSfiW York or Cincinnati are mqre tjtap half provided with places of worship, If we had a thoroughgoing mission work done in our cities, they would no loUgei be the great repositories of vice and im piety. ' Cleanse your streets, and with them the heart of your people, and you v,T have neither pestilence nor infi delity, . v-W Ijitiitdnrai FOU THE INDEPENDENT PBESB. Jl Tobacco Anecdote. BY QUIZ. At a certain country church, some where in or out of the world, its worthy members, with a commendable zeal, de termined to improve their house of wor ship by painting it nicely, fixing up stoves, putting down carpets and supply ing it with spit boxes. After this was accomplished the house was to be dedi cated anew to the service of God by one of the most popular preachers in the country. Now it so happened that in the neigh borhood of tli is church there lived a long, tall, lean, lank, gawkey specimen of the genus homo who was some in going to big meetings, and who had looked for ward to the dedication of the new church with more than usual interest. Ac cordingly when the Sabbath for the oc casion arrived, lie got up early in the morning, put on his “ Sunday nxins,” and prepared to “ go to me a tin” by saddling his colt whoso name and tail were full of cockle-burrs. His legs looked like they had been warped into the shape of a parenthesis by his lying down and I going to sleep in the sun, and in fact he looked several other ways conducive to oddness and comicality. His voice was a long, keen, nasal whine, making you think it probable he had strips qf tin fastened at one end, all the way up and down his throat, while the Piker ends re mained loose, and were allovied to vibrate to the roughness of his voice and add their vibratory twang to its!uncommon mellowness. Now it may be premised of Lemuel— for between you and me tliis was no other than Lemuel Jinking—nbat he was not born with a gold spoon in pis mouth, nor did his conduct betray that familiar ity with spittoons which is desirable in a decent white man. | As Lemuel wended his way tp church, he fell in company with Ned Bunkley, who was quite a wag, fond of a poke and who had enjoyed many of the Very best at the expense of Jinkins. These two soon fell into conversation. \ “I reckin,” said Lemuel, “Mr. Berit ly will preach a powerful sarmon,to-day. Wonder wliat it’ll be about. Stone of his dinged missionary doctrines, tho’, 1 reckin.” V “That’s a fact,” said Ned, as a Aright idea, struck him. “Aiiit you goimg to contribute something?” i “No, I’ll eat lire if I do,” said item, j “ You don’t ketch me in no sicli bok as that. It takes in about all the chicken money I can raise to buy tobarkcr, with out givin any of it to them heathens.® “Well but, man,” added Bunkley, “you won’t be expected to lay out any money to-day. Let me explain to you.-U- This sermon is designed to raise for the benefit of the mission to the ITaJ tentots. As you are aware, they are a very degraded race of “ niggers” about the Cape of Good Hope—” “ Edzactly,” interrupted Lem, as tho’ he really did know it— “ About Abe Cape of Good llope,’ , continued Ned, “and are as lousy as a pig. The object of this mission is to rid these poor ignorant people of the vermin which infests their heads. Now, Lem, do you know what is good to kill lice ?” “Well,” answered Lem, “ tobarkcr juice is about as good a thing for lice on calves as ever daddy tried.” “Exactly” said Ned. “Now the de sign of the board of missions is to send over as much tobacco juice to the poor Hottentots as will relieve them of their living woes. They have put in the Church to-day at the seat of every man who uses tobacco a box which they ex pect him to fill with tobacco juice for the laudable purpose I have mentioned. Now, Lem, I think it is our duty to con tribute something towards missions. I shall do so myself. Don’t you feel it in your heart to do something in this line?” Lem concluded that as it would cost him nothing, he “wouldn’t mind lendin’ ’em a hand.” So when the two reached lire Church they went in together, and Frank motioned to Lem to go into a pew on the right, and he followed him and took his seat by him. “Now,” whispered Frank, “ you see here are two boxes. You fill that one, and I’ll fill this one.” Lemuel leaned his head over on the pew in front of him, and went indus triously to work at the pious titsk of contributing, (in his way —or rather in [ Bunkley’s way,) to the support of mis sions. He was quite an adept in the art of manufacturing tobacco j nice. In the mean time the preacher took his text and proceeded with his discourse. •He went on to speak of first one sin and .then another. At last, speaking of back biting, he grew very warm and thun dered at the top of his voice, “It is the postern of asps under your tongue.” * Lemuel, thinking it proper to look up. and sv- who-e immu-i the poison of - asps was under, caught the eye of iho preacher as he continued — -Spew it out of your mouth ! ’ Tip’s was spoken with particular ein. phasis, and as the eye of the minister rested upon Lem just at this time, the knight of the spit-box, thinking he had been commandedX o spit in a manner to which it did not become a freeman to submit, rose hastily from his seat, and throwing his head back, with his cheeks distented, arid streams of saliva flowing from the corners of his mouth, said, in a voice I have already described: — “Mr. Preacher, jist wait inv awn time for spittin s—will 5 —will ye ?—for I don’t intend to be hurried on account o’ them duvned niggers, no how. I’ll spew it out o' my mouth when I git ready.” The speaker was pulled down in his seat by Frank, who sat looking as de mure as the minister, and more uncon scious than any one else in the house* The congregation looked wild, and some of the more irreligious members snick ered outright. The most pious faces wore a smile. The preacher seemed confused. There sat Frank as innocent as a lamb and as harmless as a dove— the only one in the house who “knew all about it.” But Frank was suspected, for every body knew him to be a great wag. And when he marched into the houpo with Lemuel before sermon com menced, with a very ministerial air and tread, some of the more knowing ones thought there was “ something tx> pay. But then Frank looked s so grave, and joined in the singing with so much ap parent seriousness and earnestness that, the old sisters—some of them at least — had actually determined to call him “brother Bunkley” the next time they met him. But order was soon restored, and the minister proceeded with his ser mon. The discourse was finished, prayer ensued and the pastor was pronouncing the benediction. Just as he was about to finish it, the tobacco chewer jumped up, and, in a hurried, earnest voice, cried out, “Hold on thar Mr. Preacher, jist a half a minit afore you say amen, for one more mouthful will fill my box. and you can take it along with you to them thar kinky-headed Hoppintots!” This was too much for the risibles oi' preacher, class-leader, saint and sinner, and they each and every one of them then and there absquatulated, leaving; the amen entirely unsaid. 'Mineral Miches of Georgia. In the last number of I)e Bow’s Re view, is an article, entitled “ Natural History” in its relation to Georgia, from the pen of Prof. Darby of Cullodcn.— The Professor says: “ We have deposited within the earth the greatest variety of mineral substan ces. Iron is found throughout a great part of the State in exhaustless quanti ties, and of a kind best suited, by reduc tion, for the production of the finest qualities of manufactured iron. Copper is in unlimited abundance, and ready totm led for the manufacture of the important compounds of this useful metal. Gold is found in abundance, happily tasking jhe ingenuity and skill of our citizens for its rapid production in an isolated state, lead and silver are found ; but no at tention has been directed to the develop ment of these metals. Mercury is found pure, issuing from the clefts of rocks.- - Diamonds exist within the State, and this priceless mineral will yet, we have little doubt 'sfefitfTnraofcg tlie produo wLffiXoi Georgia. Lime, in HU! 1 )' vai 'b' ties, forms mountain masses, llfydraulie limestone, so important a proamfiCj s found in unlimited quantities. Marl.- x and greensand, abounding in organic matter and phosphates are spread over large portions of the poorer regions of Georgia; and by bringing them to the sur fjice, wo would load with luxuriance these now neglected sections of our State. Porcelain clay, of the finest quality, for all the demands of the most extensive potteries, is found in various Iterations. Materials, of tho finest glass ire without limit. Burr-stone, second only to the French is one of our Eeene Iter illations. •‘Salt and coal are not largely found i l Georgia; but Nature seems to have liken especial care that the State*should 13 an easy recipient of every blessing, v hen there would not seem room enough o.i her own surface. TheTennesee River is made to sweep down to her nothern birder. The banks of this river abound ir coal and by its waters we arc placed ii direct contact with inexhaustible quantities of this valuable deposit.- Silt, in enormous quantities, might be manufactured on w hat are now the use leqs marshes of our seaboard.” irKEAT WORK FOR A NEWSPAPER AT a quarter past two o’clock, p. in. on iThursday, January 81st, says the Boston Atlas , the Queen read the “roy al speech ” in the British House of Lords before the two Houses of Parliament.— ThU over, the House of Commons as sembled at 4 o’clock, and the Lords at 5, when the debate on adopting the usual address to the Queen immediately com menced in each. The Lords adjourned, at hap past 12 and the House at 11 o’clod: at night—but the London Times of thd next morning gave a full report of the entire debate in each, with an ac count > of the opening of Parliment— occupying thirty-one and a half solid. Col umns, .in line type —besides ten columns of editorial, and, making forty-one col umns of reading matter in that paper, of its whole forty-eight columns. Any one will see at a glance whajt immense labor a|l this must have cost editors re porters* and compositors, and within the space ol ten or twelve hours only; and the Times, containing this report, it is to be bornefin piind, was read in every pan ol the Kingdom at noon, or by the usual dinner jlijair—at almost the remotest ■parts. I