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MY GOD DIRECTS THE STORM.
The spirit of the temped shook
His wing of raven huo
Above the son, and hollow winds
Howled o'er the waters blue.
Uprose the billowy mountain high,
Sweeping a stormy path;
Darkness and terror mingled there
Their ministry of wratb.
A lonely bnrk, by bounding- seas
Tossed wildly to and fro,
Dashed o'er the billows' foaming brow
To fearful depths below.
Crash echoed crash! the quivering spars
Broke o'er the leaning side,
And left the bark a shattered wreck,
The stormy waves to ride.
The sturdy seamen struggled hard
To hold the yielding helm,
And keep the ship's prow to the surge,
That threatened to o'erwlielm.
And when the plunging ruin spurned
Their impotent control,
TTiey flew to drown their gloomy fears
In the accursed bowl.
Upon the raging ocean then
Helpless was left the bark
To the wild mercy of the waves,
Amid the tempest dark.
Upon the deck, alone, there stood
A man of courage high
A hero, from whose bosom fear
Had never drawn a sigh.
With folded arms erect he stood;
His countenance was mild
And, calmly gazing on the scene,
lie bowed his head and smiled.
A wild shriek from the cabin rose
Up rushed his beauteous bride;
With locks dishevcl'd, and in tears,
She trembled at his side.
"Oh why, my love, upon thy lip,"
She cried, "doth play that smile,
While all is gloom and terror here,
And T must weep the while ?"
No word the warrior spuke but ho
Drew from beneath his vest
A poignard bright, and placed its point
Against her heaving breast.
She startled not, nor shrieked in dread,
As she had shrieked before,
But stood astonished, and surveyed
His tranquil features o'er.
"Now why,"' he asked, "dost thou not start
May not thy blood be spilt?"
Willi sweet composure she replied,
"My husband holds the hilt!"
"Dost wonder then that I am calm,
That fear shakes not my form ?
I ne'er can tremble while I know
My God directs the utorm!'"
flourish uloriously, when every one that profes-
-eth Godliness shnjl arise and take hold of the skirt
of his neighbor. 0 ! see your neglect in this. Do
not think it enough to keep your own vineyard.
Let your friends and neighbors have no quiet from
you till you see them setting in stood earnest to seek
after heaven. O! if you would bring in hut every
one hi-i man to Christ, what a blessed thing were
it! When so many are busy leading men astray,
how active should the friends of Christ be in bring
ing back the lost sheep to him! Alleine.
MM OF THE REFORMED INEBRIATES' WIVES.
BY GEORGE 8. BURLEIGH.
Glory to God for the good he hath done us,
Praised be his name for his infinite love,
Joy! for the woe that hath rested upon us
Flies, in the light which. is -shed from above.
Hail! to the morning which dawns on our sorrow,
Bright as the beam of its radiant glance;
Clouds that were freighted with darkness and
Vanish and fade in its lovely advance.
Weeping and wo, and the midnight of trial
Flee from our hearths that arc lighted again,
Poverty pouring her bitterest vials
Turns into plenty and smiles in the glen.
Burning reproach and the finger of scorning,
Hunger and nakedness, tattered and pale,
All are removed in the light of the morning,
Lost, like the vapors that swim in the vale.
Love hath re-lightcd the fire on Inr altar;
Cherubs are smiling, where starving babes
Law, with the menace of dungeon and halter,
Keepcth no longer the vigils it kept.
They who have loved us return from their error,
Plenty, and honor, and joy in their path;
Now is theircoming no longer in terror,
Wretched, and cursing, and burning with
Holy religion, and virtue, and quiet,
Reign in the Halls where the debauchee trod;
Praises ascend, where the drunkard in riot
Mocked his Redeemer ami tempted his God.
Praise! for our pence that is poured like a river;
Joy ! for the Sabbath which dawns on the soul;
Glory, dominion, and honor forever
Be to the Lord who hath broken the bowl!
From the True tVesleyan.
It was niciit. iiie sun nati withdrawn ins
scorching beams from the siirh-burdencd idanta
tion, and t he toil-worn slave had linen released
from the labors of a long and sultry day, and some
two or three hours had elapsed since the evening
zephyrs and falling dew came to the relief of their
panting breasts. The unfeling driver had gone to
his repose, or to bis rioting, aiut darkness mantled
the (surrounding country, and covered alike the
abode of the slave-owner, and the cottages where
slumbered the wretched subjects ot Ins oppression.
A general silence reigned, save now and then n
groan fiom such as were too heart-broken to for
get their sorrows in sleep, and an occasional stir
ofsotne one of the blood-hounds, as one alter an
other would start up andsnult'tlie breeze that now
and then sighed over the land of oppression. It
was clear, and the Noith Star shone with unusual
brightness. Amid the throbbing hearts and .sleep
less heads on the plantation of which we speak,
was Ben, a slave, whose more intelligent mind and
finer sensibilities caused him to feel mom keenly
the gnawing of the chains that held him in hope
Ben had been brought up in Virginia, on one of
the tobacco plantations, where he resided until be
was twenty-tin ee, without ever realizing the more
fun ful rigor of slavery, as it exists amid the deep
er, darker horrors of the sugar plantation, the cot
ton field, and the rice swamp, lie hud a wife and
one child, a woman lie called his wife, for slaves
have no wives, or husband;!, or children, in law,
which tlicy can call their own, and hile he remain
ed in the neighborhood where he was born, and
toiled in (he tobacco field, in sight of the little hills
he "had been wont to look upon from his childhood,
and return each night from the unrequited labors
of the day, to mingle his few joys and his sorrows
with kindred emotions that responded in t ho bo
som of his wile, and told in his weary arms the
little pledge of their love, lie was nut the most un
happy being in the world; for, though slavery in its
mildest form is u bitter pill, it was not so bad as it
might have been. But there was a feal'ul change
hanging over him; a change which he saw not,
until it was too late to avert its calamity.
There was a slave speculator in the neighbor
hood, from Alabama, buying up a drove of huma i
cattle for market, and some alarm was felt among
the slaves; but Ben thought himself secure, as he
supposed himself a favorite of his master, and had
no idea he would part with him for any price. In
this Ben was right had the circumstances of the
tobacco grower allowed him to have been govern
ed by his own inclinations; but he was unfortu
nately involved, and had no means of meeting a
Dressing demand against him, but by the sale of
some of his slaves, and he must sell such as the
purchaser would by, and it so happened that the
hero of our story was the only one that the soul
driver was willing to purchase at anything like
what the owner thought a fair price. These ne
gotiations, however, were all kept secret from
Ien, until matters were all settled, when it burst
upon him like a storm !
As he returned from work one night, just as the
shadows of twiliimt were collecting around the
neighboring hills, and obscuring the prospects
the surrounding country, he had no sooner entered
his humble dwelling than he was seized and hand
cuffed, and driven away to a neighboring jail. JNo
explanation was necessary, the truth flashed upon
his mind with all its horrors; he was sold, sold
from his wife and little one, whom he so tenderly
loved. With him it was a sleepless night; and it!
would ho vain to attempt to describe
of the poor wife and mother. But
both untold anguish; tor slaves nave
After Ben was fairly under way, and the storm
of passions had a little subsided, the more common
feelings ot humanity revived within him, and his
heart me ted as ho thought of the scene tnrough
which he had just passed, and some tears were
scattered in his path.
From tlmtvery moment Ben swore within him
self to bo free, he premeditated an escape, and w as
constantly on the lookout for an opportunity: but
none presented itself; they were chained together
by day, as they pursued their desolate way, and
were so secured at night, that our hero could do
nothing towards the execution of his nlan, more
than to mark the course they travelled, the face of
the country, the lulls Hint lay on either side, com
paring the one to the oilier, and noting each pecu
liar mountain top that presented itself on the right
hand or the left, as so many days journey from the
place where he started.
Their course, from the best opinion wo could
lorm li om the statement ot the place ot his resi
dence in Virginia, and Ins description ot the coun
try through which they passed, must have hern
through the eastern part of Tennessee, between
the Alleghany and Cumberland mountains, and
must have led down the Clinch or Ilolston rivers,
until these form the Tennessee River, and thence
down that river, across a corner of the State of
Georgia, into Alabama, a distance of between five
and six hundred miles. They Wero about four
weeks performing the journey, including some
time lost in stopping at several towns, to purchase,
sell and exchange negroes. But these matters arc
unimportant, and would not have been noticed
were it not for the bearings they have upon what
follows in the history of the escape.
We have said tlrtrvBon noticed the country thro'
which they passed, and particularly noticed the
large hills and mountains which appeared insight,
so as to retain a general knowledge of the country
and of distances; and this, as the sequel will show
was of great use to him. Ben was sold to a cot
ton planter, late in Autumn, and assigned his lodg
ings, in one of the negro huts, far inferior to what
he had been wont to occupy in Virginia. The
winter season was spent in clearing new ground,
and nothing very material occured, until spring,
more than the common incidents of slavery in the
cotton growing districts", which soon convinced Ben
that he had never known the seventy of slavery in
his native State. The winter was soon gone,
though with Ben it was made up ot many sorry
days and gloomy mjrlits. hen he
fifteen to pay. He threw himself incog, into n
steamer for Pith-burg, spending ten dollars on his
passage, so unit wnen lie arrived there, lie had hut
live dollars. He soon drank it nil and wandered
in the streets of Pittsburgh, with no money, no
friends, no home. In this emergency he went to
a jeweller and sold his watch for fifty dollars; but
I .. - I . . . I I I ; ii i i '
aiconoi was m.i iiumifi , unu u soon rooiieu nimoi
i25. Waking np to some sense of his debase
ment and wretchedness, and unwilling to be seen
by I he eye of any one who ever knew him before,
he resol-. mi to find his way to New York, and
throw himself beyond the seas. When ho reach
ed Philadelphia, he was reduced to his last dollar,
and twenty-five cents of that he spent for drink.
How should he get to New York? The lowest
faro was three dollars. Ho started on foot, and
when he reached Jersey City, he had not a cent in
his pocket. The wide river laid between him and
the object he had in view. Once more he was re
duced to the deepest humiliation. Ho asked the
toll-man w hat ho could do to pay his ferriage.
"Step,"said he, "into the coal-yard and shovel coal
five minutes, and vou may go over." lie did so
a man of public education and reputable family
He entered the city penniless, homeless, friendless
and had he had a friend here, would he have cal
led on him? No. He wandered through the
streets af the streets of this great city, without a
place to sit down, and in his wanderings passed by
the Good Samaritan Benevolent Temperance So
ciety. The name struck him forcibly. It seem
ed to speak to him. It invited him to enter. It
promised to meet his wants. But ho felt he
should he disgraced by entering. A vacant seat near
the door allured him. He took if. A reformed
man was telling his history, how from the depths
of degradation he had risen, by signing the pledge,
to comfort mid respectability. It that man, said
he, could be reformed and saved, why cannot I be
also? I'll sign the pledge. He did so, and when
asked to put down the place of his residence, he
was sorely tempted to falsify, and had he done it,
it might have proved his ruin; but he was enabled
to speak the truth, and say he had no residence.
This excited curiosity, and he was called on to tell
his story; he did so, and wascheered by the Wash
ingtonians and taken by the hand. and in thcirsym
pathy and genf rosity, tlicy made for him a collec
tion of $100. This was Washingtonian benevo
.lence. A day or two after, he went to a Pic-Nie
at White biotie, where he was called upon the
The relation af-
LETTER OF C. M. CLAY.
Burritt's Christian Freeman, of last week, con
tains the following letter from the Kentucky 0'
Conncll, which our readers will be glad to see, es
pecially for the encouraging omens indicated in
the last paragraph.
Lexington, (Ky.) Jan. SO, 1844.
Elit:u BunttiTT, Esq:
My Dear Sir, It i from the descendants of the
Pilgrim fathers, that 1 look for an exhibition of
that large spirit of philanthropy which has in
limes past made New England memorable among
the nations. It is from the same New Englanders
that I first imbibed that spirit of opposition to
slavery which, for ten years of war, and denunci
ation, and perils, unknown to men, I have nurtur
ed (inextinguishable in my bosom. It was in New
Haven, at the time of the public meeting called
in denunciation of those who had for slavery im
prisoned the Cherokee (Geo.) missionaries, that I
first felt that indignation against oppression which
determined me to make eternal w ar against slave-
iv and though I have stood alone, one against a
thousand, I thank God that thus far I have re
mained unscathed1 in person and unsubdued in
spirit. I rejoice that the hearts of my country
men in all the Union are beginning to be moved:
as the rushing waters of the great ocean, the peo
ple are troubled, and what shall be able to stilt
the waves? More especially do I take courage
from the fact that the Church of the living God,
which, in times past, has been 1 lie pioneer of lib
erty and equal rights among men, has begun to.
awaken from the sleep ff death, which had pin--ced
its very fingers upon lids that should never
close, but be constant in eternal vigils, for witb
out trial and suffering even here on the earth,,
there is neither triumph nor glory !
Even here, where I have so often heard the Jol.
like comfort, 'what a pity, that a man of such flat
tering prospects should have forever ruined him
self,' brighter times begin to dawn, and many are-
waiting the signal to rally to the standard ol 'uni
versal emancipation' many influential citizens
are with me :he interests of the poor are with
me I shall first say with the fool, 'There is no
God,' before I shall despair of eternal success.
C. M. CLAY.
I I. 1. i
thought otistaiiii to relate his experience.
" old V irgiuin, "slave-holding and oppressive as she I feetcd the heart of a venerable member of society
had been to him, he sighed for the poor comforts j of Friends, in that (dace, Samuel Legget, who
she afforded him; but when he thought of Betty, 'took him to his home and generously offered to
his wife, of her partinir tears, and of the little ! go with him to his father's house, a distance of
pledge of her affection she gave him, and which he 300 miles, and restore the long Inst son. When
kept with great care, ami when he thought ol they arrived at Troy, they found that the father
his child how it was won to climb upon his i had removed to New York, w here he was engag
knee, and roll up at him his large expressive eye, led in the Lumber business. They immediately re
us he returned from his daily toil, ere it could pro- turned to the city, and "that friend," said Mr.
nounoe the word " father, "his heart almost died j Green, " had the happiness of restoring me, that
wi ' hi ei him. When fancy painted the changes that j long lost prodigal son, to the arms of an an affec-
had probably taken place in the cin u nstanccs of j tioimte and forgiving father."
i - .. -v. i i , .i . , .i .i i ti t r. . " -
ins who aim cniiii, mar. pernaps mo moiner aim
child might be separated that the spoiler mig "
be noting upon the virtue of his wife, his soul
would kindle with the fires of revenge, and he
would vow that he would not only free himself,
but bear off his wife ami child from bondage, or
die in the attempt. With such thoughts and feel
ings, the winter passed away, and spring initialed
him into the more active duties of the cotton field.
No opportunity seemed to present itself, favorable
for attempting an escape, and he toiled on, month
nflcr month, until the summer had begun to wear
away, and , but for a circumstance which occurred
about the last of .July or the first of August, he
would have continued to toil on, until worn out by
the labors of the plantation, and the pinings of a
crushed and broken spirit. Complaint was made
that the master's garden had been plundered of
some of irs contents; and on search, some of the
stolen articles wcry found concealed in a little wood
near the negro quarters. Circumstances fixed stis-
0f i picion upon Ben, as bo was known to have been
up and out of Ins cabin at an unusual hour ol the
night. This was the result of a severe attack of
the summer complaint, but still, it being proved,
was sufficient to convict the poor fellow of the
crime. A severe flogging was the consequence,
which being the first one he had received since he
had attained the stature of niahood, did not set
the au"uish i vcl'.v comfortable upon ins naked back, and had no
it was with tendency to reconcile him to Ins condition. It was
110 llstCniU" wiiii iwiiu iiiii iun 11111111.1 llt: fuiiir,iiiui;iii
Mr. Green's narrative was listened to with the
deepest interest. In conclusion, he urged every
young man to sign the pledge; " for," said he, " it
was moderate drinking, yea, the first glass, that
proved my ruin." j. a. t. u.
car of law nnd public redress into w hich to pour
their sorrows, and tell I heir wrongs when injured.
It was but a few days before the requisite num
ber was made out, and Ben with the rest were
marshalled and chained together, and under way
fur the State of Alabama. Now, Mr. , who
thus sold Ben, was, after all, a humane being, and
had sold Ben from necessity, as an execution was
already levied upon him, and the best he could do
that we introduced the reader to the subject of our
TO BE CONTINUED.
THE FOUR COLLEGIANS.
. , u, -,,..,.-n. ... ..t ....-v At a mcetn;r 0p tle Broadway Washington
the money to salisly the execution, winch he did. r c .i... r..i. nr.. i n
1 l.ese facts, Ins generous heart prompted Inn, to, G ' a ,, jlltcrertluB ncCon.it of four
communicate , ,1C poor slave as a justification of , Co iim ww elWt Vaced one of the
1. 1 I'm it I ;t n'.i (i iiiiiii. T m; ; i m;; , a . .
seen m allowing tne who oi poor tjeii to visit mm
to take a final farewell, on the morning of his de
parture. The scene can be better imagined than
expressed, and we can give only an outline, as re
lated to us by Ben himself, long afterw ards.
It was known w hen the whole company was to
Bean Meal for Fattening Pigs. Sir: 'A
Subscriber' wishes to know what is the best food
for fattening pigs. I have myself tried nearly ev
ery description of food, anil have never found
anything to produce so much weight or such fine
meat in a given time, as bean meal. Some pigs
fed with this food, mixed with a small portion of
(mo toppings, weighed at six months old, twenty
stone (i!S0 lbs.) and the pork was allowed to bo
I last year tried to fatten them on gray peas
alone, giving them milk to drink; these also were
fat in an amazingly short time, but they did not
weigh so heavily as those fed on beau meal.
I have tried potatoes in every way, both boiled
and raw, mixed with meal and alone, but have
never found ihcni answer. But let the food given
he what it may, plenty of it must he given, so as
to excite repose.
1 am, sir, your obedient servant,
An Agricultural Experimentalist.
The number of lives lost by the sinking of the
steamboat Shepherdess is estimated by the St.
Louis New Era at forty or forty-one. A Mr.
Thomas of Indiana lost $5,000 in a mink, and Dr.
S. J. Opdyke, of Ohio, about 1,500 in gold.
WINNING OTHERS' TO CHRIST.
Where is the Christian that seriously bethinks
himself what might I do to win souls? It may
be you will go in the company of the godly, whore
you will be edified; but when do you go to your
poor neighbor, whom you see is living in n sinful
tate, and tell' him of his danger, and labor to gain
him to Christ? If it were but his ox or his ass
that lay ready to perish, you would make no ques
tion but it was your duty to help him out of the
ditch. And do you ii earnest think that you owe
more to those than you do to his soul?
"The fruit of the ri-jhteous is a tree of life; and
he that winneth souls is wise." Surely the lives
of too mnny Christians speok the language of Cain,
"Am I my brother's keeper?" Do you nof know
how to get into a poor neighbor's door? Carry an
aims witu you; uo mm a kindness speak
leave, and at an early hour, Hetty, the wile oi
Ben, was lurking about the jail, awaiting the hour
when he should bo brought out, that she might see
and embrace him for the last time. And as the
sun rose, and persons began to stir, she would
have been arrested, had it not been that she had ;t
written permit from her master, stating the object
of her visit. This, how ever, did not secure her
from insult, but rather served as an occasion to
mock her affliction by every one who read it. They
would sneer at her, and tell her she had better go
home and look her out another." nigger;" but all
this she was willing to endure for the sake of see
ing Ben once more. About 8 o'clock, the slaves
wero all brought out, chained together in march
ing order, and those who had friends, were allow
ed a few moments to take their leave of them.
Bet'y embraced the opportunity, and was seen
weeping around the neck of Ben", and his ow n bo
som swelled and heaved as though some dreadful
storm of passions raged within, and threatened to
iikikc an entire wtcck oi ins soul. ju dni not
weep; the excited passions of his soul drank tip
bis tears, and they came not to his relief. Ho put
his hand upon his heart as though tosiill its excite
ment, and then upon his burning brow, as though
to prevent ihe escape of his reason, and then hj;
threw it around his w ile's neck, and gave her a
last embrace, and in that moment he swore with
in himself that he would shako oft the chains of
slavery, or perish in the attempt!
With his wife it was very different; she found
relief in tears, and her heart, true to woman's
character, poured out its anguish through the
scalding drops that trickled down her sable
The time for starting had come, and tho order
was given to move forward; but it was not until
several severe blows from the w hip of the soulless
driver brought lietty to tier senses, that sho could
be separated from Ben. They parted, and she
returned to her desolate home, while be moved
towards the south, to find a more desolate one on
some Alabama cotton plantation. Before they
parted, sho gave him her handkerchief, as a pledge
..CI.... .!'...:.. -I I . ' "
oi nei uuKuiiiiu, uiiurgmg mum iu Keep it lorcmem-
ss; Bnea t ns a
brother, or a sister, or a friend, to his children. &.I her her by , which was doubly dear to
you will prepare the way for a welcome recepiion. h'10 fact that he received it wet with her parting
men l man iook to see the kingdom ot (Jrwistl u a" ;
irs ago gracei
host literary institutions id" the country. They
i were aristocratic in their birth and feelings; young
I men of bright intellects and splendid low ers, and
j strongly bound together. After study they usual
j ly met in each other's rooms, w here chaiiipaigue
! and cards were introduced, and where all became
: corrupt and dissolute. One of the young men al
itor he left college, entered a law) ers office, but
soon died ot the uciirium tremens, ins physician
told him that if he continued to drink, he would
die a drunkard. His mother stood by him and urg
ed him to abstain. She, alas! had fed him from
the wine cup. In her presence, ho deliberately
made up his mind that be would not abstain, anil
in three months from that time, ho filled a drunk
A second reformed from his drinking habits,
the second year, and became a minister of the gos
pel. The third studied medicine, but became notori
ously intemperate, and sunk very low; but n let
ter has recently been received from him, in which
he says, " I am a redeemed man. I have signed
the Washingtonian pledge."
The fourth, of whom Mr. G. said he would give
a more particular account, after leaving college en
tered a lawyer's office, where he remained two
years and a half: almost every night he spent at
a grog shop, drinking so bad that he could net
live among those who wero his friends and who
were acquainted with him. He left homo and
went to n land of strangers, determined that, re
moved from every one whoever knew or heard of
him before, he would now become a sober man.
But away from all restraint, he became worse
than before. Alcohol would rise up before him
and tempt him every day, and big employers told
him they could keep him no longer. His father
wrote to him, urging him to come home, lie felt
that his father was watching over him. But that
son wrote to his father that he was doing well.
Ho would rather tell a lie than have his true state
known; one of the sure results or drinking alco
hol. Thrown out of employment, he became a
school teacher, in the midst of his drunkenness a
thing that might appear surprising here, but was
not so in the far west, where there were few in
fact that were sober men. The Judge was often
drunk on ihe bench, the jury were drunk in their
boxes whilo trying a criminal for his life, and
therefore nothing strange was thought of the school
master being drunk. Being however somew hat
prospered, became into St. Lous with 500 dollars
in his pocket; but after a season of carousal with
cards in one hand and a bottle in the other, he
soon found himself forty dollara in debt, with on ly i
Prevention of Smut in Wheat. At a late
agricultural meeting in Sussex, Eng., John Ell
maii, Esq., related the following account of an ex
periment in preventing smut in wheat. He took
four sacks of smutty wheat, sowed one sack of it,
with brine only, as strong as he always made it, to
bear an egg as large as a shilling; he sowed anoth
er with nine only ; he sowed the third sack w ith
brine, strong enough to hear an egg, and then let
it lay in lone all night; ami the fourth he sowed
w ithout anything. The result was as follows:
Where the brine only was used, every now and
then there w as a smutty ear, still not many; w here
the lime only was used, there was about the same
quantity of smut, where the lime and brine was
used, there could not be found a single smutty ear,
and where nothing was used, it was a mass of
Rkcipf. for CuaiNG II ms. Cover the bottom
of the cask with coarse salt, lay on the hams w ith
tho smooth or skin side down, sprinkle over fine
sail, then an ither layer of hams, and so continue
until the cast; is full. This ought to be of the lar
ger kind. A cask holding 64 gallons is small
enough, and it would be better if it held 120 gal
lons. Make a brine in the following proportions:
0 gallons water, 3 lbs. salt, 4 lbs. brown sugar, 3
oz. saipetre, 1 oz. saleratus. Scald and scim, and
u hen cold pour the brine into the cask until Ihe
hams are completely covered. The hams should
remain in this pickle at least three months, and a
little longer lime would do no harm.
IIintto Farmers. Wo do not know wheth
er or not the following plan has been adopted by
many farmers; but there can be no harm in calling
their attention to the circumstance. A farmer in
this neighborhood has, for some time past, put
garlic in the bottom of his grain stacks, and since
he has adopted that plan, has iicvei been troubled
with vermin. Before adopting this plan, on tak
ing down a stack of grain, he and his assistants
never killed less than from fifteen to twenty rats,
and above a hundred mice. This is a very simple
cheap and effective method of preserving grain in
To Salt Butter. Beat well up together in
marble mortar, half a pound of common salt,
with four ounces of powdered loaf sugar; to ev
ery pound of newly made butter, (the milk being
well drawn off by beating,) put an ounce of the
mixed powder, incorporate it well; put the butter
in pots for keeping. In about a month not be
fore it will be fit for use, and it will continue for
ten years as butter newly salted. A'. E, larmier.
Farmers, make your own candles. Take
2 lbs. of alum for every 10 lbs. of tallow, dissolve
it in water before tho tallow is put in, and then
melt the tallow in ihe alum water with frequent
stirring, and it will clarify and harden the tallow
so as to make a most beautiful article for either
winter or summer use, almost ns good as sperm.
EDITED BY JOHN INM.1N.
And filled ivith contributions from Hit most eminent
and accomplished writers nf the age.
The motives which have led to the commencement of
this undertaking may bo briefly slated. It ia liciieved br
(lie prnprietor thai there is in the United States an im
mense Provision of literary ability, fur which as yet tlier
is no adequate encouragement, or field of display ; that be
sides the great number of clever ami successful wriien,
whose productions are weekly, and monthly, and annu
ally read with delight by thousands, there are yl greater
numbers constantly anivingiU m'tiiritj of pouer, who
have only lo appear on ihe stace of publication to rer.eiv
a brilliantaward of fame; and that the powers of llios
whese names are already pronounced wilh respect by lip
of wisest cenure, are capable of mure and still higher ex
ertion than has yet, been called forlb. I' 1h believed, loo,
that the demand for literary production in this country,
especially in the periodica! channel, exceed the supply in
a very large proportion .and that new supplies have only
to be. presented of the right quality , and in Ihe right way,
to ensure a "hourly welcome and profitable reception. No
doubt is enteriained of the American mind's ability to
sustain itself cerlainly on its own ground, if not abroad,
against all the competition that Ihe intcllectof other land
can bring to the encounter ; and full assurance is felt that
among Ihe millions of American readers there can be, and
is, cordial welcome for all that American writers can pro
duce of excellent and interesting
From Ihese premises it is undoubtedly inferred, that
there is abilndilnt room for another magazine, notwith
standing the merit and success of lliose already in being;
that there can be no lack of ability to fill iis p'age accep
tably, within the reach of capital and liberal eulerprise;
and that such a periodical will not fail lobe greeted as a
welcome visiior by thousands and thousands, who as yet
have done little or nothing towards the support and de
velopement of periodical literature.
Another and strong motive has been the feeling lhat N.
York, the first city of the Union, slmu Id have the home of
a periodical owning no supeiiorin either merit or success,
The Columbian Masaiine will be published on the
lirslilayol every month. its mechanical arrangements
will comprise the best of paper, type and workmanship,
lhat money can procure.
Its contributors will be sought for among the ablest and
most popular writers in the country ; and no eflbit will
be spared to secure the aid of the most distinguished
such as John I. Stephens, J I' Cooper, V G llallec'. , 11 W
I lerbert, 11 '1' Tuc'- erman, J R Chondlei, T C Grattan,
J C Neal. Wi Simms, l'.pes Saraent, T S l'av, 11
Giiswold.G P Morris, S.dia !?milli, V C Bryant, JK
Paulding, N P Willis, N llawilmrne, II V Longfellow,
C l" Hoffman, TS Arthur, II V Harrington, II II Weld,
John Neal, Park Benjamin, 11 II Dana, Knfus Dawes,
K M l)ird,Mis I'' mini ry, Mis tNepliens, MrsSiba Smith,
Mrs Stnwe, Mrs Signuniev, Miss Leslie, ,liss Sedgwick,
Mrs "M Clavers," Sirs Osgood, Mr Elletl, Mi Howard.
Mrs M St I.eou I.oud, Mrs Annan, Mrs Gould.
With many of Ihese arrangements have already been
made, a well as wilh others v hose reputation Is sure,
though yet to be established in the pubpc reeard. 'Ihe
proprietor entertains sanguine hopes of accomplishing an,
object In which he. looks forward wilh pride the secured
co-operation of regular and occasional contributors, form,
ing a list unequalled in thin country.
In each number theie will be two or threo engravings
by sui!h artists as Chapman, Ingham, Inman , Osgood, $-c,
besides a plate of Fashions colored, and occasionally other
illuslialii ns, so lhat every subscriber will receive,' in lh
course of the year, at least 24 elegant productions of the
graphic art, which could not be olheiwisc procured r
three or four limes the annr.al cost of the whole magazine
In each number there will also be two pages of Music
original, or judiciously selected by a competent prolessor
of the art. Proper regard will be paid lo the currett is-
sues from the book press, not so much, however, with
view lo notice ail t he new volumes that may appear as
th e expression of matured opinions concerning those
which shall be deemed worthy of the public, attention ajid
confidence. The aim of the editor will he, rather to fur
nish judicious ( i ilicisms, on which readers and purchasers
may roly for guidance, than to present a mere laudatory
chronicle of new publications.
The Columbiaa Mag. one year in advance, $3,00
" " " two " 5,00
Two copies one year, $5,00
Dealers in periodicals throughout the United Su.t
and the Canadas, who wish to become agents foi the Co
lumbian Magazine, will pleasa lo apply to the publisher
immediately. The usual discount will bo made In them'
In addition lo Ihe above, Ihe publisher simply adds
for the benefit of all, that the work will be sustained h
Lditora who will insert this prospectus entire, and nenl
a copy marked und addressed lo the Columbian Magaiine
shall have a copy sent to them for one year. Address
post-paid, ISRAEL POST, Publisher!
Jan. 1, 1844. 8 Astor Hons
y OOD will bo received at this office in par
" nient for tho Freeman.
Alio, nioit kinds of Grain and produte.