Newspaper Page Text
What though before me Jt Is dark,
Too dark for me to sec f
I ask but light for one step more;
'Tis quite enough for mc.
Each little humble stop I take,
The gloom c'ovrs from lhe next;
So, though 'tis very dark beyond,
I never am perplexed.
And If some times the mist hangs close,
So close I fear to stray
Patient I wait a little while,
And soon it clears away.
I would not see my future path,
For mercy veils it so;
My present steps might harder bo
Did I the fu i ure know.
It may be that my path is rough,
Thorney, and hard, and steep;
And, knowing this, my strength might fail
Through fear and terror deep.
It may be that it winds along
A smooth and flowery way;
Hut seeing this, I might dispiso
The journey of to-day.
I'erh ps my path is very short.
My Journey nearly done (
And I might tremble nt the thought
Of ending It too soon.
Or, If I saw a wenry length
Of toad that 1 must wend,
Fnliitin-:, I'd think, "My feeble powers
Will tail me ere the end.''
And so I do not wish fo see
My journey or its length ;
Assured that, through my father's love.
Each step will bring Its strength.
Thus step by step I onward go,
Not looking far before;
Trusting that I shall always have
Light for Just "one step more."
— Rl itish Messenger.
A low, narrow room, the single win
dow curtain with coarse white muslin,
tlie floor covered by a scanty carpet—
somehow, the broad March sunshine
brought out every clement of poverty
in the abode of the poor widow and her
"Put on a little more coal, Amy,"
said Mrs. Ardenhaiu shudderingiy,
drawing her shawl closer around her
frail figure, as she dropped her needle
work; "it is bitter cold this morning."
Amy obeyed silently, yet she could
not help noticing bow nearly the li'tle
stockoffucl was exhausted; and remem
bering how inadequate their thin purse
was to the replenishment thereof, her
heart, sank a little. Only a little though,
. for Amy was not one of these despond
ing kind. No; she wasasunshiny little
creature, full of bright, infectious hope
fullness—and somehow, in that squalid
room she seemed like a fresh rjse blos
soming in a sandy desert? She was
very pretty, with brown tender eyes,
just tlie shade of the heavy braid other
hair above —a small, coral, mouth, antl
cheek delicately shaded, and as she took
up the newspaper you couldn't help
noticing what a showy tapered little
hand she had, with pink-tipped lingers,
and dimples at every joint.
"Mamma," she said suddenly, "here's
an advertisement tor a governes."
"Well, what of it?"asked her mother.
"Why, mamma,''hesitated Amy. "yotr
know we are very poor, and 1 "should
like very much to earn a liltle money."
Mrs. Ardonhiim had bowed her face
upon her hands, and in an instant Amy
was kneeling beside her. "Mamma,
darling, don't cry !" she said.
"I did not mean to be so foolish, lovo;
but it all came back to me at that mo
ment—tl c wealth and station we have
lost —the poverty to which we are re
duced. Oh, Amy, it is too hard 1"
"But Lliink, nianuiia!" said Amy,
cheerfully, "how delightful it will ob
lor me to make all my school accom
plishment's help us along in the world.
May I try for this situation ? I should
like it so much.''
"It you think it best, my child," ac
quiesced Mrs. Ardcnham, resignedly.
"Then 1 must lose no time," said A- '
my, as she began to arrange her hair
and adjust the details of her simple toi
let. "How do I look mamma?" She
laughed, when at length she was ready
to depart. And Mrs. Ardenham's ad
miring, affectionate glance brought the
roses to her cheeks as she tripped away.
For she did look exquisitely pret-
I ty; the coarse shawl graceful curves a
bout her slender nirm, and the cheap
straw hat with its plain black ribbons
might have been the most fashionable
. of oonncts wit tout a white more be
"Darling Amy !" pondered the moth
er, as her light footstep died away on
i the stairs: "she is a perfect little sun
beam in the darkness of ri'y daily exist
ence. Her heart lias never ached with
the bitter pangs of life's hardest trials!"
But Mrs. Andorham was mistaken;
Amy had tasted the bitter cup—imy, she
had drunk it to the very d:cgs 1
There was a vain of poetic apprecia
tion somewhere ill the jumble of fun
aud sentiment,good humor and sarcasm
that constituted Frank Ashley, as he lay
lazily on the sofa playing with two or
' three golden haired children who were.
toddling about the room. "I'll tell you
what Lizzie" said lie to his sister, who
sal embroidering, "you spoil those
young imps about as completely as any
mamma of my acquaintance."
1 "As if you old n't spoil them ten times
worse '." retorted Mrs. Jay, laughing.
"IVlien I succeed in obtaining a gover
ness, perhaps !h<;y will be put under
I some sort of a discipline. But really,
Frank, I have always wondered that
you have never matried."
"You would make such a nice, do
mestic sort of a husband, you are so fond
of home. I know that by that inantcv
ring. Miss Koland laid a desperate siege
to the rocky citadel of your heart, but I
thought you dislike her."
3 "You arc very right," he replied;
"sue was Indescribably repellent to
"Why did I never marry any body
else? Well listen, Lizzie, and I'll tell
you. 1 was once iv love with one of
' the sweetest girls, 1 believe, that ever
walked this earth. It was when I was
staying al. Brighton; she, too,was sp.-nd
* Ing the winter there. At first! thought
t sic- encouraged my suit, but all at once
she grew cold ami distant, i determin
ed at all hazards to ki.ow my fate, for I
felt how wrethed life would be without
her. But the very evening that I bad
» resolved to submit my suit to her—we
were both invited te • party at Miss
, Roland's—l learned that she had left the
■ town. Miss Roland told me, not in di
rect words, of course, but a.-delicately ]
as possible, that it was to avoid my
"And did youcredil this?" asked Mrs.
■'•Of course," he replied; Miss Roland
was one of most her intimate friends. I
left Brighton the next day, and iben
and tlieie ended all of love that it will
ever be my fate to know."
As he ceased speuking a servant came
in. "If yo.i please ma'am, a lady is be
low who says slut has come to apply for
tbe situation of gc verncss. Shall I show
Mrs. .lay assented, and the next mo
ment Amy Ardciihani entered the
"You seem very young," was one of
the first remarks Mrs. Jay made.
"I am eighteen ma'am" said Amy
Frank Ashley, who had been reading
the newspaper, glanced quickly up at,
'the tone of her voice, and rose to bis
feet. At the same instant Amy's eye
met his, and she grew deadly pale.
"Amy!" he exclaimed—"Miss Ar
But Amy had fainted.
An hoar later, Frank Ashley was an
accepted lover, and the young lady who
bad promised "to take charge of him
was our little Amy.
"Tell me about it, Frank," said his
sister, when at length be rctur.icd Irani
aeconipaning Amy to her humble tene
meut—a spot which would soon cease
to be home.
"We have both been the victims of
misrepresentation, Lizzie," said Frank,
■•Miss Roland assured Amy that I was
engaged to her. What could Amy do
"Then she loved you all the time?"
asked Mrs. Jay.
"Ho she says," said her brother.
"And instead of my findinga govern
ess you obtain a wife !" laughed Mrs.
Jay. "Oh, Prank, lam very glad."
"THE OLD WOMAN"
Once she was "Mother," and it was
"Mother, I'm hnr.g.y," "Mothe.-, mend
tn v jacket," Mother, put up my dinner,"'
and "Mother," with her loving hands
would spread the bread and butter, and
stow away the luncheon and sew on tbe
_i-cat patch, her heart brimming with
iitlectibn for the iuipoiious little curly
pate that made her so many steps ami
nearly distracted her. with his boister
Now she is the "old woman;"bttt she
did not think it Would ever come to
that. She looked on through the future
years and saw her boy to manhood
grown; and he stood transfigured in the
light of her own beautiful love. Never
was there a moic nob'e son than he—
honored of tlie world, and tile siatl'of
lior declining years.
A**e, he was her support even then,
but she did not know It. She never
realized that it was her little boy that
»;ave her strength for daily toil—that his
slender form was all that upheld her
over the brink of a datk despair. She
only knew how she loved tbe child, aud
felt that amid the mists of age his love
would bear her gently through its in
lit mities to the dark hall leading lo tbe
Hut the son has forgotten the mother's
tender ministrations now. Adrift from
tbe moorings of home, be is cold, selfish,
hear; less, aud "Mother"' has no sacred
meaning to the proiligal. She is ■•llie
old woman," wrinkled, g ra y, lame and
Fity her, O grave, aud dry those tears
tint Toll down her furowed cheeks.
A DAY WITHOUT A NIOHT.
One night In July we landed on the
shore of a northern" fiord In latitude GO
degree north. We ascended a cllft
which rose 1,000 feet above the level of
the sea. It was late, but still sunlight.
The Artie, ocean stretched away iii si
lent vastness at our feet. The sound of
its waves scarcely reached our airy
lookout. Away in the north, the huge
old sun swung around along the hori
zon like the slow, measured beat of the
pendulum in the tall clock in ourgrand
fiuher's corner. When both hands
came together at 12, midnight, the full
round orb hung triumphantly above the
wave—a bfldgj of gold running due
north spanned the water between us
and liitn. There he shone in silent ma
jesty, which knew no setting. We in
voluntarily took oil'our hats; no word
was said. Combine, it you can, the
most brilliant sunrise and sunset you
ever saw, and its beauties will pale be
fore the most gorgeous coloring which
now lit up the oceun, heaven and moun
tain. In lialf an hour the sun had
swung tip-perceptibly on its beat, the
colors changed to those of the morning,
a fresh breeze rippled over tlie fiord,
one songster after another piped up in
tin; grove behind us—we had s.id into
another day.— Letter from Norway.
A GOOD STORT.
A gentleman, iv pursuit of a goose for
dinner, was attracted by the sight of a
plump excised one.
"Is that a young one?" said he to a ro
sy cheeked lass in attendance.
"Yes sir, indeed it is I"
"How much do you ask for it ?" asked
"A dollar, sir."
'•That is too much, say five eightsand
here is your money."
"Well, sir, as I would like to get you
as a steady customer. I wilt take it."
The goose was carried home and
roasted ."but found to be so tough as to
Tho following day the gentleman ac
costed fiefair poulterer :
"Did you not tell me that the goose
I bought of you was young t"
"Yes sir, I did,and it was."
"It was not,"
"Don't yon call mc a young woman?
1 am only nineteen.
"Well. 1 have heard moteer say, many
a time, that it was nearly six weeks
younger than me."
"CJ* Chapln talks thus beautifully
about day : "It has risen upon us Ironi
the great depths of eternity, girted
around with wonder ; a new creation of
light and life, spoken by tho word of
God. In itselt one entire and perfect
sphere of the sun. Every past gener
ation is represented in it; it is the
ilowerlng of all history, and in so much
■ it is richer and better than all other
days which have preceded it. And it
is lor this we are pressed and siirroun
' ded with these, faculties. The sum of
our being is concentrated hare and to
day is all the time we absolutely have.'
\CJ» A colored girl named Betty, Hv
i ingat Mr. Doby's thought she would
fire oil'an army pistol, the other day,
and not let the family know anything
about it. She put her band over the
muzzle of the pistol to keep the report
from being heard, pulled the trigger and
shot a ball through her palm.
There appear to be many different
ways of understanding the true mcaii
i»i _; off newspaper patronage ai It is will
ed, and as an interested party we give
place to a disquisition on the ■_UuHßt.
by 'one who "knows whereof he speaks."
It will serve, perhaps, as a minor in
which certain parties may "see them
selves as others see tliein,"'
Many long and Teary years of expe
rience in the publishing business has
forced the conviction upon its that news
paper patronage is a word of in my de
finition;, and that a great majority of
mankind are cither ignorant of tlie cor
rect dellniiioii or are dishonest, in a
strict biblical sense ol the word, News
paper patronage is composed of us many
colon as the rainbow, and is as change
able as a chameleon.
One man conies in and subscribes for
the paper and pays for it in advance,.,
mil goes home and reads it with the
proud satisfaction that it is bis. He
li.-iiids in his advertisement, asks the
price, pays for it, and goes to his place
of business, and reaps the advantages
Another man says, "you may put my
name on your books,''and goes off with
out saying a word about pay. Time
passes on, and you want money, you
ask him to pay what is honestly due
you. lie tlics into a passion, perhaps
pays, perhaps not, and orders his paper
stopped. This is called newspaper pat
Another man lias been a subscriber
a long time, but lias never paid a cent,
and ai last becomes tired of yon and
wants a change. He thinks he wants a
city paper, lie tells the postmaster lie
don't want it, and you'll get a paper
marked "refused." But floes he call
and pay.' Oh, no !he wants his money
to pay for talk city paper, lie will pay
Jrotl after awhile,lie says. Bnthe never
does unless you sue him. And this, too,
is called newspaper patronage.
Another man brings in a lift}' cent
advertisement and wauts a two dollar
notice given it, and If you refuse he goes
off mad. And Ibis is called newspaper
Another man lives near you—he does
not take the paper—lie don't like the
editor—the paper is too small for him—
yet, lie goes regularly to his neighbor*!
ami read*, it, and finds limit with it. and
quarrels with the opinions of tho editor.
Occasionally be sees an article he likes,
and begs or gives half a dime for the
number. This is called newspaper pat
Another man takes two or three city
papers and cannot afford lo take a home
paper, but he likes it and comes into the
ofliee and begs one whenever he is in
tow n. This also is called uewspapcr pat
Another man liKes the paper, he takes
a copy for himself and family, and pays
for it and docs all he can to get new
subscribers —be never gt limbics, but al
ways has a cheerful word for the editor.
If any little item of interest occurs in
tlie neighborhood he informs the editor.
This is newspaper patronage.
Another mail has a pateut and wants
you to give it a two dollar notice every
week: "it will be of interest to your
readers,'' ho says; but, although know
ing it will benelit him most ot all, be
does not offer to pay for it. This is
called newspaper patronage.
Another man has taken tho paper
several years, but has not paid for it,
and conies in with a four or live dollar
advertisement, and asks you to insert it
for nothing because he is "an old patron
of yours." • This is cedled newspaper
Another man—"a young man about
town"—no use ofhis taking a paper, lie
knows all that is going on. By and by
he guts married and hands in tbe notice
with "just band me a dozen copies."—-
He gets them, and when you mention
pay, looks surprised—"you surely do
not charge for such things !" And this is
called newspaper patronage.
Another man (bless you, it does us
good to see such a man) comes in and
says, "the year for which 1 paid is about
to expire, I want to pay for another."
lie does so and retires. This is news
Now, isn't newspaper patronage a
curious thing? And In that great day
when the Gentleman in Black gets his
dues, as be surely will, how many of the
patrons enumerated above will tall to
his share ! Now It will be seen that
while certain kinds of patronage are the
very life and exiscnee ot a newspaper,
there are other kinds of patronage that
is more destructive than the "deadly
Header ! where do you stand?
A MASONIC FIN.
A good story is told of a confident In
dividual, evidently well 'read up' in the
mysteries, who applied at the outer re
ception-room of tlie Boston Masonic
Lodge for admission. An eminent
brother who was quietly sitting there,
but who made no sign that he was any
body, leqitdSted the stranger to be seat
ed, and he would Send in tor proper per
sons to examine the credentials ol the
O, it's no matter about that; I'm all
right, said the applicant, ma kitic sun
dry extraordinary passes with his hands
and contortion* of visage.
That, may be, but 1 think they always
examine strangers who desire, to visit
the lodge, said the attending brother.
Well, I'm ready for 'em, said tu.; visi
Glad to hear It—that is quite an claho
raLc breast put you have there, said the
other, looking with some interest at a
big gilt letter 0., which the. visitor bad
conspicuously displayed upon Ins shirt
Yassa, that's a Masonic pin, replied
the weaver, swelling out his breast.
Indeed. Letter G—well I suppose you
know what that means V
O, yes-cerUiinly-letter «--stands for
Jerusalem—a sorter headquarters lor us
Ma-oils you know.
The querist didn't know it, and the
applicant, it is almost unnecessary to
state, did not see any furllier into th c
lodge. — Com Tullctan.
COLD IN SPITZBERGIN.
No description can give an adequate
idea of the intense rigor of the sir
months winter otthis part of the world.
Stones crack with tbe uoise of thunder;
in a crowded hut the breath oi the oc
cupants will fall iv flakes of snow; wine
and spirits, turn to ice: tlie snow burns
like caustic: if iron touches tbe skin it
brings the flesh away with it; the soles
of your stockings may be burnt off your
feet before you feel the slightest warmth
from the tire; linen taken out of boiling
water instantly stiffens to tbe consisten
cy of a wooden board, and heated stones
will not prevent the sheets of the bed
trom freezing. If these are the effects
of the Climate within .air-tight, flre
warnied, crowded RtltS.wtiet must they
In- among the ("Ark,storm-lashed mouu-
Uiu peaks, outside.
NO HONEY FOR A THUNDERING ROD.
•At a parish meeting in one of the
towns in the interior ot Pennsylvania,
where a new meeting house had just
been erected, the question was agitated
■Hah i c meet to Having a lightning rod
put up. Opinions were ircely fitter
i changed, and the project seemee to meet
. with general favor, until au influential
and wealthy old German thus let him
• self swing; giving utterance to a rather
i novel statement, one not In accordance
• with the generally received opinion of
• the established laws ol Nature and
"Now, geutlemens, I tells you vat I
i thus. I Links we hash beens to much
trouble and cxpensh, and none has gin
• tollais more as I to build a church for te
• Lord, and next Sunday we gives it to
him, and if he will duender down his
■ own house, den 1 says, let him i ounder
,--away—l gives no vote nor monish for
i floundering rod !"'
i This multum in parvo speech proved a
i settler of the question, the enterprise
: was abandoned, tho meeting was ad
i journed sine die,and the worthy parish
'oners harmonized beautifully over a
glass of litter, at trie village inn.
Let any one endeavor to recall the
i image of a fond mother lons, since in
Heaven. Her sweet smile and ever
clear countenance are brought vividly
to recollection. So also is her voice,
and blessed Is that parent who is en
dowed with a pleasing utterance. What
[ Is it that lulls the intant to repose ? It
, is no array of mere words. There is no
charm to the untaught one in letters.
■ sylables, and sentences- It is the sound
vihich strikes its little ear, that soothes
and composes it to sleep. A few notes
however unskilll'ully arranged, If ut
tered in a soft tone, are found to posess
a magnetic influence. Think we that
this influence is confined to the cradle ?
No it'is diffused through every age,and
ceases not while the child remains un
der the paternal root.
Is the boy growing rude in manner,
and boistrotts in speech ? I know of no
instrument so sure to control these ten
dencies as the gentle tones of a mother.
She who speaks to her sou harshly does
but give to his conduct the sanction of
licrown example. . She pours the oil on
the already raging flame.
A JAPANESE HERO.
There is a story current among the
Japanese which excites their warmest
admiration. It is told of Aidzu, the he
ro of the Tycoon's party, and who is
deemed by all the native's as the harvest
Prince in the Empire :
A short time since he was attacked in
his own stronghold by a large force ot
Satstuna's men. After some days fight
ing with uncertain result, the latter il«
--manded a truce, that they might go and
re Jlenlah their commissariat, as they
had come to the end of their provisions,
but promising to return and continue
the tight. Aidzu replied that there was
110 need for them to retire, as he would
supply their wants ; and accordingly
sent them a plentiful supply of rice,
sufficient for several days. Already a
hero in their eyes this act aluost defied
them. The effect on his assailants seems
to have been prodigious and to have
given to the leaders an idea of the in
vincibility ot such a man. They lett
without striking another blow.
THE CANARY BIRD AND THE MIRROR.
A pretty incident is related of a ca
nary bird. Tl c door of the bird's cage
was occasionally left open that lie
might enjoy the freedom of the room.
One day' he hapcued to lly upon the
mantle whereupon was a mirror. Here
was anew discovery of the most pro
found interest. He ga-.ed long and cu
riously In tlie mirror, and came to the
conclusion he had found a mate. Go
ing back to his cage he selected a seed
from the box, and brought in his bill as
au offering to the stranger. In vain the
canary exerted himself to make his new
friend partake, and becoming weary,
he stept back a few inches trom the
glass md pourd forth his sweetest notes,
pausing now and then for a reply.—
None came, moody and disheartened
he flew back; to his perch and hung his
head in shame and sil.iice for the rest
of the day : and although the door was
repeatedly left open he would not come
NOT MUCH SCARED.
An honest old German, who is em
ployed in one ol the tobacco manufac
tories In New York, was listening re
cently to an account from a brother
workman of the principles and doc
trines of Millerism. Among Other
things, he was told that the world was
expected to come to an end in two or
three months. Remarking that the
German was much interested in the
matter, the others undertook to victim
ize their listener, b) suggesting to him
that it was fill! time for him to be ma
"Yen you dinks it vil coom to an end?'
"Oh probably in about three months,"
said the joker.
"Ho ' veil I no cares for dat !" ex
claimed Hans, wi*.h a smile of satisfac
tion—"! pe going to Buffalo dis spring?'
j_3»» "Ma, Ma, cousin Bill is iv ;the
parlor with sister Jane, and he keeps a
"What 1 William biting jour sis ter
"Ycs'tn. I seed him do it over so
many times. Bite her right on the
mouth. And the tarucl gal didn't hol
ler a bit, Ma."
1 "Never mind, Ned, I guess he didn't
hurt tier much."
"Hurt her,ci-acuy .' why she loves It
i she tines : cos she kept a letting him,
and didn't say nothing but smacked
■ her lips as if it was good she did. 1
1 seed it, all the time through the keyhole.
. I'll lire taters at him, now you see if I
|C_*" Bayard Taylor says : some o
the finest church choirs in Berlin. Dres
■ don, Potsdam and llellle, consists chief
:ly of boys. One thing Isa little peculiar
—1 have not yet seen a lady in a church
tholr. The mysteries is how the music,
. mastcrhnanages to get so much aud such
a variety of music out of such tinmusl
| cal looking heads, yet he does, and it is
; not all sound simply, but harmony of
[ the swecti-s; kind—thrilling rapturous
• music. And what is more marvelous
t those boys voices imitate the most cul
. tivated tones of the female voice, giving
! all parts in sweet unison. 1 have seen
, choirs from forty to one hundred boys
I and behind them aj huge organ, and
s when the singing service is commenced,
. one is nearly lifted from his feet, as that
. hundred voices, youthful choir, accotn
, paniedby organaud_cimgregatloil send
forth the anthem of praise. 11'
AGRICOIfTURE IN WEST NEW JERBEY
We take the following Interesting ac«
count of Quaker agriculture, lv West
Jersey, from the New York World of
last Saturday. It will be read by our
agricultural friends, especially, with
great interest and profit: ,
Header, if you wish to see a bright and
broad example of the best, the truest
the soundest agriculture on this conti
nent. a system by which the farm and
the larmei alike grow rich, go to Phila
delphia, cioss the river along which it is
built, and take the cars for Salem. For.
some miles you will pass through a level
ittd not very fertile region, where the
growth is white oak and some pine. At
the distance of twenty-live or thirty
miles southwest from Camden, and five
or six from the Delaware river, the
traveler come 6 into this magnificent ag
ricultural region. On every side, as
far as the eye can reach, he sees a suc
cession of fields cultivated lor every
square foot, aud loaded with the prom
ise of harvest. There are great fields
of com, in some instances sixty acres lv
extent, where the great regal blades of
maize are nodding and tossing In the
summer wind. On the other side, a
wheat Held of ten, fifteen or twenty-five
acres in extent has jielded Its golden
burden, and between the drills we see :t
rank growth ot clover almost conquer
ing the stubble, and about to cover tho
surface with generous foliage and scar
let bloom. At tbe distance of a few
rods from the highway we pass larnr
bouses: they are about a quarter of a
mile apart,"plain, but strong in archi
tecture, embowered in trees, and flank
ed by a grand array of wheat stacks,
apple orchards, and great, affluent
barns, wilh outbursts of fodder froiri
door and windows, and beneath a well
designed yard, paved with a foot or two
feet officii, well-rotted manure. These
people are no amateurs from the city,
who have bought a thirty-thousand dol
lar farm in order to get cream to pour
over their strawberries, or a place to eat
asparagus plants. We drive in and talk
with the owner. His plain speech and
modest bearing proclaim his lcligiou.—
lie has no large words, no boasts, nif
ostentations, hut informs us that from
yonder field of six acres he took two
hundred bushels of wheat. This corn
field last yearyielded seventy-five bush
els to the acre .
He has had no rain lor six wcek3, and
will not make so much this year, btft.
not less than sixty, he thinks. Yonder
clover-field of live acres gave him twelve
tons, and this handsome second growth
he will turn under next month, and
then, after sowing wheat, will dress mr
the spring with two hundred pounds
per acre of ground bone, or phosphate,
or Peruvian guano. We walk over his
acres. They came to him from an un
cle, except the land on tbe other side of
yon timber, which ills wife inherited.—
He shows us his hogs, his heirs, his gang
plough and his marl pit. Then we drive
on through other fields, pass other coun
try homes, aud dine with the fortunate
owner of a hundred and forty acres of
this admirably cultivated region. He
commenced poor thirty-live years iigk*
as a tenant, when he thought his crop
good if an acre yielded him twenty-live
bushels of corn or twelve ot wheal. He
gave forty-five dollars when he bought
several years ago,whcn Folk was Presi
dent. Now he would look away from
an offer of two hundred. He has no
idea of going West. Omaha has i.tf
ciiarnis; lie cares nothing for the price
of land on the line of the Pacific rail road j
nor amid the hills ot fGast Tennessee.
And now the reader asks for a reason
for all this. Why are these farmers so
happy and content? Why do their
lauds so steadily appreciate? We an
swer that Bu:h success is won euiy
where favoring nature has been aided
by skill and Industry on the part of
nian. These Salem county farmers are
proud of their business, and earnest to
know the secrets and established rules
of successful agriculture. They com
pare usnges aud grow wise by mutual
instruction. If reduced toacode of n'J
merical statement, the outline oi their
system would be somewhat as follows:
1. The Quaker fanner of West Jersey
has no fancy r.otions, no curious theo
ries, no blind devotion tobook-farmiugj
He reads the rural literature ol his day,
but has judgment to see what is good
for him, and what is useless. His sub
soil is porous and easily penetrated by
the roots ol corn, clover and wheat,
therefore he finds no advantage In.
ploughing deep. He raises crops of
universal value and iv perpetual de
mand, hence he spends little time in
hunting market and watching for ail
extra five cent per bushel.
2. He has a sound and uniform sys
tem iv rotation, getting over his fields
once in five years with this succession—
wheat, corn, potatoes, oats, clover: or, corn}
potatoes, potatoes, clover,wheat. In the
low places he puts hcrdsgrass aud timo
thy on dryer lands.
3. lie adds yearly to the actual value
of his acres by putting upon them either
marl trom his pitorcompost made from
I the growth of roe!aimed marshes. On
wheat he puts super-phosphate, unless
he gets rank clover with marl and plows
4. Though relieved by kind nature
from the necessity of deep tillage, he
plows often and keeps his crops clear.
5. He seldom has business away front
home. He contracts few debts. He
has few wants, and no vices.
If this describes a model farmer we
can only say that it is no tancy sketch.
It the reader would see a broad and elo
quent refutation to the standard fling
of "Farming don't pay," let him visit
this part of New Jersey. Ue will find
liere pure legitimate (arming* net a nur
sery business, nor a flourishing truck
patch. But in every symbol and proof
of success, in clear culture, spacious
homes, refined society, unsullied honor,
, spotless morals, snowy linen and load
ed tables, he will see what substantial
honors and joys nature has for him
whose hands are brown with honest
work; who displays thrift, sagacity, and
judgment in bis management, and whoso
heart is warm with gratitude aud light
This vegetable make art eicellcnt
pickle, and from the brightness of its
color has a very pretty effect in a glass
pickle-dish or jar. Wash the best pcr
tectly; do not cut ofl any of the tibi ous
roots, as this will allow the juice to es
cape, and the coloring will be lost. Put
into sufficient water to boil it, and when
the skin will come oil it will be suffl
; ciently cooked, and may be taken out
and laid upon a cloth to cool. Having
i rubbed oil the skin, cut the beet into
; thick slices, put into a jar, and pour
i over it cold vinegar, with an ounce of
- whole black pepper and an equal a
' mount ot ginger, anil let it stand until
| quite cohi. i'hc jar should be kept
II closely corked.