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From the Emancipator. THE SONG OF THE HOE. BY REV. M. TRAFTON. With sinews weary anil worn, With tears that ever flow, A woman stands in tow-cloth rags, Plying her mattock and hoe, Dig! dig! dig! In weariness, weeping and woe, And still with ,1 heart with sorrow big, She sang the "Song of the Hoe." Work work work ! While the master is sunning himself, And work! work! work! While the wretch is counting his pelf: It's, 0 to be a slave . A slave under an Arab's hand, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is a Christian land. And work ! work ! work ! With an infant strapped to the hip, Work! work! work! With the crack of the driver's whip. Plant and hill and pick, And pick, and hill, and plant, 'Till I almost sleep with bowing low, And murmur liberty's chant. 0! men, with sisters dear! 0! men, with mothers and wives! It is not cotton you're wearing out, But human beings' lives. Dig! dig! dig! In sorrow, and sickness, and want; Digging at once with a feeble hand, A grave and a hole for a plant. "A grave!" I long for a grave ! There is rest from this weary task: 0! glad should I ho would death appear; I would smile at his hideous mask, It seems so like a friend ! Because of my bitter grief; 0 God! that this life might end, That death might bring relief! Work, work, work, My labor never flags; And what are my wages? a bed of earth, A quart of corn, and rngs! To be robbed of my children dear, To hear them cry in vain; To see my husband sold like a brute, Marched off in the clanking chain. Dig, dig, dig, From dawn till the stars aro bright. Dig, dig, dig, No hope to make labor light. Hill and plant and pick, Pick and plant and hill; 'Till the heart is faint and the blood's on fire, And the lash cuts to the quick. Work, work, work, Through winter, dreary and lone, And work, work, work, When spring and summer are come; While the birds, on a free, light wing, Seem to mock mo with freedom's song, While smarting still from the stinging lash, My unpaid toil prolong. 0 but to breathe the breath Of northern breezes sweet, With God's blue heavens above my head, And Canada under my feet! 0 for the start of a day Of the bloodhounds so cruel and fleet! Swift as the wind would I speed away, My brethren in freedom to greet. 0 for one short hour, 0 for one resting day, No moment to feel love's soothing power; No moment to rest or pray. A little weeping would ease my heart, But tears away I dash; My tears must stop, for every drop Calls down the merciless lash. With sinews weary and worn, With eyes red with tears' hot flow, Columbia's daughter, in tow-cloth rags, Still she plies her heavy slave hoe. Dig, dig, dig, In weariness, weeping and woe, And still with a heart with sorrow big, She sang this "Song of the Hoe." Trover Devths for Seeds. Durgcr's Economy of Farming, (recently translated from the German , t-.t i n e...:i. ,.e v,.. VnA cioto Uy me rfccV. -Li. uiuiui, ui Aim, nimcr the following as the result of an experimental tri al with Indian Corn, to determine the proper depth at which seeds should be put. That which was planted at the ueptn oi No. 1 1 inch, came up in 1 1-2 " " 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 2 2 1-2 3 3 1-2 4 4 1-2 5 5 1-2 5 8 1-2 days. 9 1-2 10 11 1-2 12 13 13 1-2 17 1-2 The Nos. 8, 9, and 11, were dug up after twenty-two days, and it was found that No. 8 had an inch more to grow to reach the surface of the earth. Nos. 9 and 11 had just sprouted, but tvere hort, and three inches below the surface. No 10 :ame nn in seventeen davs and a half: but the ten der leaf remained only six days green, and with ered. There is no experiment wlncli snows more clearly the advantage of shallow planting in a soil not too loose, and trodden down, than tins. J he more shallow the seed was covered with earth, the more rapidly the sprout made its appearance, and stronger afterwards was the stalk. The deep er the seed lay, the longer u remained before it name to the surface. Four indies was too deep for the maize, and must therefore be tor yet smal ler grain kernels. "Did he ever hear from them, sister?" ! esteemed these great duties when time and oppor- " Yes, he heard from them once. Their cruel tunity were freely offered under a mother's eye. master had not found any one to buy them, and the j Let not young ladies look upon these duties as little boy who grieved so much for his father, was menial or of slight importance. A household can dead." Lot be well ordered and happy, unless they are " Poor little fellow, and he never saw his father faithfully and intelligently understood. Let no again!" woman ever imagine mat a husband' s comtort, en- '' No, never! I cannot think of that night vyith- ijoyment or prosperity depends upon the smiles and out feeling sad. I had often heard of such things, ! ornaments of his parlor. It is skilful and judicious but I had never before seen any one in so deep dis tress. "But come, Ellen, you look sorry; I am sure my dear little sister will never take young birds from their mother again, and she will pity and help thee poor mothers and fathers who are rob bed of their children." Youth's Visiter. MISCELLANEOUS. management in the kitchen which does so much toward making home pleasant and prospects brght. Let every young Judy who expects to become a wife (and who does not?) look well to these things before she leaves the maternal care. Let her re member, that to become truly a 'help meet,' im plies prudence, sagacity, experience in domestic duties; and let no one enter into that important St most interesting relation with untried powers and unskilful hands. DG Independence op the Farmer. Of nil the conditions of men and I have mingled with every variety I believe in truth that none is so independent as that ot an industrious, frugal and sober fanner; none affords more the means of con tentment and substantial enjoyment; none where the education has not been neglected, presents better opportunities for moral and intellectual im provement; none cans more lou.uy lor religious gratitude;' none is suited to give a more lovely and deeper impression of the goodness of God. Some years since in the most rugged parts of N. Hamp shire, among its craggy elitts, and rude and nolo mountains, I was travelling on horse back, and came suddenly upon a moss covered cottage in the very bosom of' a valley, where the brave settler had planted himself on a few acres of land which alone seemed capable of cultivation. Every thing about the residence bespoke industry and My First Loaf. BY MRS. H. C. K. An emergency at last came in my domestic ar rangements, for which I was wholly unprepared, despite the admonitory warnings of all good house keepers, to be prepared when such do occur, as oc cur they must, in these days of help-wanting. An excellent girl had gone, and her place was suppli ed by one who I felt, when I beheld her, could never answer that description which had induced me to engage her. She stood demurely before me, awaiting her newjnstructious. 'You can inal(csome bread, Nancy sift some flour and set it rising.' 'How shall I i, lake it? That never was my work before, but you will tell me lio.v, ma'am, nud I can learn quick,' was the reply: ami the anxious yet willing expression of her face, bespoke a tea chable spirit, as il did also an inexperienced band. Heavily did that answer fall upon my ear, 'how shall I make it?' Yes, that was the question, how? What a world of experience and power did that, little word coiupivlieud ! I remembered my moth er talked much a'.i nit selling the sponge, placing it in a warm situation, baking it when it was just enough raised; these snatches of information I well remembered, hut the right quantity, quality and number of ingredients, with the jusl how they should be put together, was the still unanswered question. There stood Nancy. ' Upon the whole,' said 1, after a moment's thoughtful pause, ' as there is so much that is more important to do, wo and iflicult care Being fatigued, I stopped to ask refreshment for will put tins matter oti and try baiter's bread, my horse. A hale young girl of about fifteen, M & It thankful for the respite, bareheaded and barefooted, but perfectly courte- Days missed on. nn. with ll th ruddiiipss of Helm, and nil the I 'Cannot Nancy make bread?' asked my 1km- nimbleness and vigor of Diana, went immediately j band at last, ' I am getting quite tired of baker', r. n 1.1 '. . I - 1 .. . i .. lu'omt tor an attnrui oi nav, ami a measure or oars lor my .. i ,i ' . i .!, ...i.i i..u Si li r arid in-London a a a in it LTTJRA L. From the Cultivator. Experiment in Wheat. Messrs. Editors The following novel teresting experiment which I find in the Times of the 9th of September, 1843, having late ly been made at Lheam, in Surrey, deserves a place in your valuable journal. A. Walsh. Lansingburgh. Nov. 18, 1843. In July 1842, Mr. A. Palmer put one grain of wheat in a common garden pot. In August the same was divided into four plants, which in three weeks were again dividod into 12 phmts. lu Sep tember these 12 plants were divided into 32 which in November were divieed into 50 plants, and then placed in open ground. In July, 1843, 12 of the plants failed, but the remaining 38 were healthy. On the 19th of August they were cut down, and counted 1,972 stems, wiih an average of 50 grains to a Btem, giving an increase of 98,000! Now sir, if this be a practicable measure of planting wheat, it follows that most of the grain now used for seed, may be saved, and will infinite ly more than cover the extra expense of sowing, as the wheat plants can be raised by the laborer in his garden, his wife and children being emploj ed in dividing and transplanting them. I have enclosed one of the stems as a sample. You will find it rather above six feet long, and tout in proportion. Henrj Pownall. Spring-grove, Sept. 9, 1843. horse, and then spread the table with a cloth as white as the snow drift, and a bowl of pure milk and brown bread for his rider. I never enjoyed a meal before, I offered the family pay for their hospitality ; but they steadily refused, saying that I was welcome; I was not willing thus to tax their kindness, anil therefore took out a piece of money to give to one of the children that stood near. "No," said the parents, " he must not take it; we have no use for money." " Heaven be praised," said I, "that I have found people without avarice. I will not corrupt you;" and giving them a hearty thank ot tering, wished thoimio.rs blessing tools my leave. Now here were these humble people, with a home, which, if it were burned down to-day, their neigh bors would build for them to-morrow with cloth ing made from their own flocks by I heir own hands; with bread enough, beef, pork, butter, cheese, milk, poultry, eggs, &c, in abundance; a good school six months in the yer.r, where the children learn more because they know the value of time, than those who are driven to school every day in the week, and every week in the year; with a plain religious meeting on Sunday, where, without os tentation or parade, thev meet their neighbors to exchange friendly salutations, to heai words of good moral counsel, and to worship God in the most simple, but not the less acceptable form; and above all, here were hearts at peace with each oth er; full of hospitality tj the passing stranger, un caiikered by avarice, ami undisturbed by ambition. Where upon earth, in a humble condition, shall we look for a more beautiful example of true inde pendence, for a brighter picture of the true phil osophy ot hie ? Jeivctjfle Dcpailiueiit, A True Narrative. Transplanting Trees. Do it before the leaf buds come out. Jim. Jig.- Grafting Wax. 3 parts beeswax, 3 of rosin and 1 part tallow. After it is applied to the graft, cov er with, a strong ootton bandage. lb. it was a cold, bleats night, mother and 1 were sitting in the back parlor, waiting for father to come home to lea. 1 he bell rang, and a friend entered the room. lie asked if father was at home. He said he had brought some one to see him who was in trouble, and wished to ask his advice. Mother told him to bring the person in and wait, as .she expected Father would be home very soon. He stepped into the hall, and returned with a colored man, who looked to be about 50 years old. He was poorly clothed, and appeared tobc in great want. Mother asked what was the matter, for she began to suspect that hi; was one of those poor people who rim off from slavery. Our friend said he had better tell his own story. Ho began as well as his tears and sobs would suffer him to speak, to tell us that he was a freeman, that bis wife and children were slaves, but that they bad always li veil with him in a little cottage he hud built for thorn near their master's plantation. They worked for their master, while he took care of the little farm he :A rented'. He hv got a written promise from the owner of his family that he. would sell them to him when he should have raised several hundred dollars. "What!" exclaimed Ellen, "sell the man his own wife and children?" " Yes, Ellen, and he did much more than that. The poor black man thought it a great privilege to be permitted to buy them, but jusl two nights be fore, .while ho was from homo on some business. his wife and eight children were taken from their house, hurried down the river, and put on board a boat that tmr) stopped tor ihein " He reached home soon after ttiej i,,l boon ta ken nway, and followed them to the boat. The cupt tin permitted him to get aboard, and ho had come as fur us ho could with them, lb; thought perhaps he should find some one here to help hfm. 1'hey were now at the wharf, and he had but a few hours to see what could lie done. Before noon next day, they would be on tiieir way to the far South; "and oh!" said the poor man, "how can I give them up? Last night," he continued, "when we had all laid down on the deck to sleep, my lit tlest boy, that I love the best of all my children, crept close to me, put his arms around my neck & said, " Oh, father, how can I live if they take me away from you ?" " The poor man wept so while he told his story that he could scarcely speak." " You must be telling me this story, sister said Ellen as they do in the story books. It is not all true, is it?" " Yes, Ellen, it is all true; I saw the man my self, and mother will, tell you much more about him than 1 can. He went back home to try if he could not sell his horse and cow and corn for mo flby to buy thein back, but when lie got there he found his stock driven off, his corn-field destroyed by the neighbor's cattle, and almost every thing taken from his house. Mother knows many more such things." She shall make some; but this is beautiful ba ker's bread, George. I don't know but it is nicer than any home inadorbread I ever ate,' I replied, in a most recommendatory tone, taking another slice, which I did not want. There is nothing like good home made bread, such as my mother used to make.' lo the first part ot this remark I did not mate rially object, inasmuch as it was seriously my o- pimon; but when lie suggested an equality with his mother's bread, than which nothing in his estimation ever excelled, I felt a sad shrinking' of the heart at my own conscious inability of attain ing it. May you be blessed with just such an appetite as you had when, a boy, you ate your mother's bread,' was my inward benediction, as he arose to return to his afternoon business. Sometimes I thought of confessing our dilemma. Had it been the first week of our marriage, it had all been well; he would have snii'nd c.t my inex perience; but we had unfortunately been married some time; and however lovely inefficiency and want of skill may appear in a lady love or a bride, it assumes quite a different aspect when not to know is inexcusable ignorance. ' Oh, I can't do that,' could no longer be viewed in the light of maiden timidity, or del icate helplessness; besides, it savored too little of ' bis mother,' who was a pattern housekeeper. But the bread must be made. ' I will begin with pearlash bread; that I am sure will be easiest and much less trouble.' So upon pearlash bread I was decided. With what deep and earnest interest did I pre pare my flour, millc, salt, and pearlash. With what anxiety did 1 mix these important ingredi ents together. 'I will have pearlash enough,' thought I. ' I am determined it shall be light, ' and another spoonful was quickly added. The bread was made; the pans wore ready, the fire kindled, and at last it was satisfactorily deposited in the well heated oven. I took my seat beside the stove to watch its progress. How anxious was I to see it rise. How readily did I remember the round plump aspect of my mother's loaves. Time passed, and despite my watchful inspection and ardent wishes, it was flat! flat! flat! It grew beautifully brown, but there it lay, so demure, so unaspiring. Dinner came and my husband walked in, w ith a friend or two to dine, as, m the hospitality of Ins heart, he often did. I extended a welcome hand, but I am sure my burnt face and disquieted look were tell tales of a heart not particularly glad to see them. We sat down at table; the mackerel was well i... i .i, . ., ii i I., i nun.;,., mi: )uiiinn;.- en none, ami i lie nutter was melted, but the bread the bread ! the article n- bove all, which my husband considered indispen sable to be good it was handed round lie took a slice; it certainly did not resemble bread, thick ly studded as it, was with little brown spots of un dissolved pearlash; and then how it tasted' a strange mixture of salt and bitter, wlii. li w.w nl. Ui.ntl.iii. .,..1.., i.i . nr.. i... i , ... uk, in i imi,;ui,iiin'. iuy iiusiiaiKi looKed sur prised and mortified, and how did not I feel? Is there no other,' ho looked .significantly at me. I shook my head, while he involuntarily remov ed the unpalatabl.e slice far from his plate. How little did 1 enjoy the society of my agreeable guests, llow distant did I wish them; any where but at my own table. 'Had you not better attend to the bread making A Puzzle A Soliloquy. How shall I he a popular preacher! A problem, that, in these days! To be popular, a preacher must be eloquent, for without eloquence, the piety of John, or the zeal and knowledge, ami integrity of Paul would make no preacher popular now. But how shall I be eloquent? To bark elo quently, at scare crows, for any length of time, is a task that very few men have a talent for, espe cially if they be men of common sense. To aim a haft at anything except scarecrows, would be to grapple Willi some oi tne actual sinsoi tne people, as they actually exist. To do this would be be coming a fanatic a disorganize!' a disturber of the peace of churches! A worse heresy than the ick of eloquence itself. And then, the task of contriving and dressing up these same scare crows to be shot at from the pulpit, as an eloquent preacher must needs shoot. How shall the effigy of straw bo made to resemble a reality, so much as to Keep the preacher and his audience in countenance while shooting at it; without creating the suspicion that it is in very deed some one of the most monstrous unsightly re alities that the fanatics are forever tilting at. But tiie breath of such a suspicion would brand a preacher as a fanatic, at once. To be eloquent, a preacher must, moreover, contrive to be in earnest, about something; at any rato he must appeur to be, or his attempted elo- quoncp will flag. But the moment he begins to be in earnest, that moment he falls under suspicion of fanaticism, the sin of all sins, in a preacher. There was my class-mate, the Rev. M. P who was settled in the city of U , a few years since. Surely Mr. P was the very model of a popular preacher, if any man could be. He had the reputation of being exceedingly eloquent. Me was a prudent man withal, and prudence, equally with elo pienep, (rarely united,) is iudis- pcnsihle to the preacher that would be popular. Yet with both of them, Mr. P. failed to succeed! The moment he began to be pointed enough to be interesting, ami earnest enough to be eloquent, that moment his remarks v ere thought personal, and he was suspected of an inclination to aboli tionism! 'Twas even hinted there might be (lon ger of his exchanging with Rev. Mr. G. of the neighboring village of W , (a sufficiently elo quent preacher by the bye but so imprudent as to have identified himself with "the niggers!") To quell these alarms in bis congregation, Mr. P very quietly lowered the tone of his preaching. till all were satisfied that the good man had meant nothing in particular in his preaching, only to be eloquent, and so the congregation became quiet. But who would have thought it? In two or three years it was w hispered by lawyer and judge , that Mr. P ws.s nut sufficiently interest ing tacked variety exhibited no originality was hot eloquent. And rumor has it that the pul pit of Mr. P. is about to become vacant again. Alas! who shall succeed if Mr. P. could not? llow shall 1 be a popular preacher? From the Philadelphia Forum. The Insane Mourner. BY F. B. GitAHAM. Twilight possesses charms for the lover of soli tude if a communion with one's own thoughts may be considered solitude and I have ever made it the period of my lonely rambles. On one occa sion, not many years since,l was led (I know not why) to the door of a cottage in a very small street in our city, where resided au elderly widow. A daughter and sister-in law comprised her little fireside circle. Considering myself privileged by a slight acquaintance, I entered; for the furmali-' ties of the fashionable are not observed by the humble, though honest poor, and friends are ejer heartily welcome to a place at their firesides. It was early in autumn, but the weather was not cold, and a few embers blazed upon the hearth. The matron of the tenement infoimed me that her wid owed sister in law had not returned from her eve ning visit to the grave of her husband who had been brought home a corpse but a few days previ ous and she requested me to remain a short time. The presence of a friend is ever a consolation to the bereaved, for gloomy is the dwelling from which death has but recently taken a loved one. I had not sat long before the, young widow en tered. She was beautiful, even though sorrow had driven from her cheeks the flush of the rose. But a few months had elapsed since she had given her affections unreservedly to the man she now mourned, eyes, and A strange '.vildness beamed from her Collecting a Bill. A gentleman from New York who had been tarrying in Boston for the pur pose of collecting some money due him in thatcit v, was about returning home, when he found that one bill of S'100 had been overlooked. His land lord, w ho knew the debtor, thought it a doubtful ease; but added, that it it was collectable at all, a Mil Yankee, then dunning a person in another part of the room, would annoy it outot the man. (Jai ling him up, therefore, he introdured him to the creditor, who showed bun the account. "Wall, 'squire, 'taint much use trying, I guess 1 know that critter, it on might as well try to squeeze ile out 'o Bunker Hill monument, as to fry to collect a debt out 'o him. Hut any how what II you give, 'sposm 1 do try.'" "Well, sir, the bill is 100. I'll give you yes, I'll give you half, if you collect it." "Agreed," replied the collector: "there's no harm in trying, any how." Some time after, the creditor happened to be in Boston, and in walking up 'Fremont street, encoun tered his enterprising friend. "Look here! 1 had consider'bln luck with that bill o' your'n. You see I stuck to him like pitch to a pine plauk, but for the first week or two it was nt no use, nor. a nit. ue was always snort, or cUc be was'nt at home; and I coidd'nt get no sort of satisfaction. By and by, says I, after goingsix tecn times, I'll fix ye: so I sot down on his door step, and set all day and part of the evening, and began agin early next morning, and about ten o' clock he gin in. lie paid me my half, and I gave him up the note!" Sal. Courier. a piteous smile placed upon hercounte-- naive, as she sat down by my side, a victim oj in sanity. " 1 thought you would come," said she, gazing wildly into my face " they said you hail dieil in a distant land, but I did not believe it. Why our you stay so long? Did you not want to see me?1 But you are here and 1 will not reprove you. Oh' I'm happy now. Why don't you speak tome? Have you forgotten me. Oh why did you go away and leave me ?" She paused, and cast her eyes towards the firer as though musing. A tear trembled for a moment on her eyelid, and then fell. Presently she again' wazed at me, and continued, in the same touching' strain: " Come closer to the fire, my husband it Is cold very cold ! You do not know tne now you do not remember your Clara; but I am happy now oh, yes, 1 am very happy because you are w:tn i. 'ii ... r. i. . .. mo. i on WHI not. leave me again i Know you. will not!" Thus incoherently did she talk, and no ono an swered or attempted to lure her from lierddusion. I looked upon- her, and my heart swelled with sor row at the sight of a wreck so beautiful and lovelv. I have seen the tall oak of the forest torn from the ground by the whirlwind, without a sigh; but I have wept when the fragrant rose was riven from its tender stem bv the Autumn winds. 1 have ga zed upon the remains of a friend I loved, have wept over his coffin, and turned away to forget him; bat when I contemplated the shattered mind of the being before me when I viewed that once beautiful flower, now lovely even in its pallid bloom contending with the storms of afflction, and in danger of being prostrated to the earth col orless and lifeless, my feelings were entirely over come I could not weep, for the very fountains of sorrow were dried up by the excess of sympathy. 1 could endure the pain of so melancholy a specta cle no longer, and in the midst of her incohcren cies I arose to depart. When I opened the door she caught hold of my arm. "You are not going again, said she, how can. you go? Ob, do not leave me now I must tic company you, for if you go alou", you will bevor return ! know you will not. I have had a die- mi an awful dream, and if you go away 1 shall net see you again I know I shall not. Oh, will you. not stay with me?" I tore myself from her determined grasp, hur ried back to my lodgings, and never saw her after wards. To this very day do I meditate upon the strange incidents of that night, and frequently do I awake from a dreamy, sleep, imagining that I again hear her voice begging her husband not to leave her! Poor thing, her troubles soon ceased; and though her Henry never came back to relieve her disor dered mind, she was soon called to join him in k better world. The old lady of the cottage still dwells there, and to all her visitors repeat's the sad tale I have just related. She says tint oft at twilight she im agines that the spirit of the lovely Clara returns to ller fire-side; and the whistling of the winds she construes into plaintive moans of grief. I have since frequently set it; that chimney cor ner and reflected upon the mysteries of the femalo heart so confiding so tender so lovely, even amid the withering blasts of adversity. Although a tender bloom, it'is unfading; for when riven by sorrow7, it never fails to bestow its fragrance. " Earth's blossoms thrive not in the shade, Unhlest by gentle showers from heaven But that sweet flower by kindness made To bud and bloom, will never fade, And freely are its oidors given." I he Degrading habit of Swearing. It is not easy to perceive wh.it honor or credit is connected with swearing! JJoes any man receive a promo tion, because he is a notable blusterer? Or does any man advance to dignity, because he is expert in profane swearing? No. Low must be the char acter., which such impertinence will not degrade. Inexcusable, therefore, must be the practice which has neither reason nor passion to support it. The drunkard has his cups; the lecher his mistress: the ir . yourself, wary,' ami ue, as soon as we vciC8Iltjrjs, ,js IUVetige; the ambitious man his prefc li linn anil iirtf lpnVfi t lat most imnnrtmil nni-h .-.C: . .1 ' 1 . 1 . . . ...ii.. cooking to such niiscinoie, inexperienced hands." ineio was u decision in ins gentle tone, which I well knew meant to give me no choice in the mat ter, and I saw that be little imagined the ' misera ble inexperienced hands,' upon w hich he laid such neither more nor less than mv emphasis, were own; nn l it did not attorn me much consolation, that he expected teller things than all this of me.' I went aw ay am! wept heartily and humbly, with this pitiful lamentiHioii, ' what 'shall I do?' "There stooil the piano. VVhat availeth all the time, tal ent and industry which had been spent in learning u few tunes? It aided not an iota to the real comforts of my luusehold. Handsome worsted work adorned our Minor, uii that I could recall an hundredth partit the time spent with an em broidery needle, aifl re-pass, in thoroughly and skilfully acquiring tfc important arts of housewif ery. From that rmnient I resolved to study into my domestic duties iot lightly and loosely, as if film! ... ! i.iji nno bin in mams, easny gotten over, but J resolved to know AoAo become a skilful, econom ical, thrifty housekejier. Upon success in this, how much of family Welfare and family happiness depend. When I havf cut my sweet, light, whole some loaves, there stii lingers a sad remembrance of the pain, the aiKiify, nay, the mortification of my first efforts; whli ft ono to advise, and no one to, aid, me." MineWas'n long and wearisome pro bation in bread maling, and all because I lightly inents; tne miser ins gold; nut the common swear er has nothing; he is a fool at large, sells his soul for nought, and drudges the service of the devil gratis. Swearing is void of all plea. (X3"A bit of a wag on board of a steamboat from Norfolk, being not a little disquieted in his slum bers by some fellow lodgers who seemed to dispute his claim to the birth, called out, "Hallo Steward!" "What, inassa!" "Bring me the way bill." "What for, inassa?" "I want to see if these bed bugs put down their names for this birth before I ilid-if not, I want 'em turned out." The Methodists. A Washington correspondents of the Philadelphia Gazette says that there has. been in that city a decision of the Methodist Con--ference, denouncing all ministers of that denomi--nation who have slaves, and that it has caused con siderable excitement. It is said such a course ean--not fail to injure the Methodist churches of tb South. He adds, however, "They are right,, and they arc determined to go 'ahead.' The Unkindesl Cut of Jill. The English nil t ho t i 1 111. nnl'innr nf nuii (" . . 1 1 1 Wotnrn t.r nv manners and customs, giving us tlio hardest kind of hints for some of our eccentricities, but. the cru ellest cut we have recently received is with njack kidfe decidedly n "cut direct." Some Sheffield cutler has deluged the market with huge clumsy jank-knives, marked American Gentleman's Pocket Companion!" indicating that such are the delicate Business Enough. The Grand Jury at Con cord, N. II., returned week before last one hundred, and eighty-seven indictments. This does not speak well for the morality of New Hampshire. The are indictments were for assault and battery with, in- rent 10 commit rape paes-jig counterfeit money lar.-en against towns for neglect to keep ro'ads in repair for keeping bowling al'eys, and' for re tailing spirituous liquors without license. A Travelling Mesmerizf.ii having said .he was ready to.uiwer anvnuestion that micht hn as ked him, a Keutuckian desired to know "how . ' , r Mv... .. .v iiiv in iimiii; fti.M nun, u jveutucKian ucsireu to Know "how instruments carried in the pockets of the elite of ,Uch it cost per week to 'paster' Nebuchadnezzar iiiiinuc lailll. x 110 uikuh-iu Hiilll is ceriillUIV OUI'imr thn t 111a ho ivna nnr nn irrnaa harp upon the American blades this time. More about Leite.i Carrying. George P. Fisher and Calvin Case were held to bail on Fri day in this city in the sum of $500 each,hy the U. S. Marshal for this district, as agents for the tran smission of letters in violation of law, by Lysan der Spooner's American Letter Mail Co. In the seven distilleries in New-York City, there is a daily consumption about 3.800 bushels of grain, which at 69 cts. amounts to $0,222 dollars daily or 318,064, a year Between the 14th and 26ih of February last, 203,400 gallons of spirits were inparted from abroad, and consigned to 32 difl'er ent houses in this city. (J5-The Legislature of Maine has abolished Mil itia trainings. The enrollment and organization will be continued as heretofore. Fearful Leap. On Thursday night of last week, a lady in Fair Haven, Conn, became alarm ed during her slumbers, and leaped out of the sec ond stcry window of her sleeping.room ! Strange as it may appear, not a limb was broken, nor was she seriously injured !