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• - ■ J ♦ I AwA A A A c»» VOL. 2. MIDDLETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 28, NO. 35. 1863. ENOCH L. HARLAN, tlic »»1 MARKET STREET, Formerly of the Firm of Harlan & Bro. DEALER IN FINE GROCERIES, PROVISIONS, Foreign Fruits, DOMESTIC FRUITS, GUNNING MATERIAL, Fishing Tackle, WOODEN WARE, BALT, OILS, Teas, <fcc. W E arc prepared to supply buyers from the country with the above goods at the low est prices. Uur stock tried will recommend itself, as great care has been used in its selection. We respectfully solicit examination ENOCH L. IIARLA Formerly of the firm of Harlan & Hro. Wilmington, Del. ^^Orders by mail promptly filled, und goods delivered at any Depot, Stcumboat or Express Office free of charge. May 22—3mos. BALTIMORE FEMALE COLLEGE. T HIS Institution, the only Female College in Maryland, was incorporated in 1849, und liberally endowed by the State in 1860. It af fords Hoarders and Day Pupils every advantage lire a thorough and accomplished cd dea lt lias a good Library to ucqu tion. Q6ophicrtl apparatus, aud valuable Cabinets 01 Miueruls, Gems, Coins and Medals. Hcsidcs pu pils from the diiferent counties iu Maryland, it has nu extensive patronage from the* Middle, Southern and Western Stales. Session opeus September 6th. FACULTY OF INSTRUCTION. N. C. BROOKS, LL. D. Prof. Ancient Langua . gcs._ T. LUCY'. A. M. Profcs.sor of.Mathematics, &c. Mons. LOUIS GANBIN, A. M. Prof, of French. Mr. LEWIS LAUER, Prof, of German. Mr. G. A. GNoSSPELINS, Prof, of Music. Mr. VAN KEUTII, Prof, of Painting. Miss M. S. COVINGTON, Mathematics k His tory . Mist M. B. MOON, DtTea-Lctlcrs and Physiol ogy. Lute Principul of Female Institute, Sumter, S. C. Miss IMOGEN II. SIMMONS, Piano and Sing ing. Late Musical Directress State Femule Col lege, Memphis, Tcnn. Mrs. E. A. POLSTER, Piano und Guitar. Mrs. JULIET WORKMAN, Vocal Music. For Catalogues or any information, address July 31—3m* Cl amical and Phii N. C. ItitUOKfS. President. MIDDLETOWN' STOVE HOUSE. S. W. ROIIEKTS, rp^AKES pleasure in J- of Middletown t announcing to liis friends and rrounding country, that the liberal patronne he has received has in duced him to offer to the public the greatest va riety, and liest selected stock of Stoves, both Cooking and Heating, offered in Middletown, . and at prices thut caonut fail to please. Among the assortment arc the following COOK STOVES. NIAGARA, CORAL COOK, aud others made in the city. NOBLE COOK, WM. PENN. MONITOR LEHIGH, PARLOR STOVES. BRILLIANT, GAS BURNING BASE GEM, DEW DROP, UNION AIR TIGHT OUR PARLOR. Also, SEXTON'S PARLOR HEATERS. Stoves of all kinds suitable for Stores, Offices, Bar-rooms, and School Houses. Also, the Morning Glory and the Oriental, both Unsurpassed in beauty and efficiency. They c_ in operation at the store of the proprietor. All sizes of Bar-room Stoves and Tcn-platc Stoves repaired at short notice. Old Stoves taken in exchange. jJSf'TIN WARE at wholesale and retail. As I have practical workmen employed, I think I can give satisfaction to all who favor me with their work. Particular attention paid to Roof ing and Spouting. bo S. W. ROBERTS. Middletown, January 4, 1868—ly MIDDLETOWN ACADEMY. A First Class Boarding and DAY SCHOOL, UNDER THE DIRECTION OF WARREN I. HICKS. A. B. J n HUDSON A. WOOD, A. B. j Principals, assisted by Mrs. GENIE H. HICKS and Mrs. MARY WOOD. F ALL Term begins September 13th, and ends December 24th. WINTER Term begins Janunry 4th and ends March 26th. RPR1NG Term begins April 6th and ends June 25th. Tuition per Quarter of 12 weeks, payable at the middle of each Term : Smalt Scholars in First Lessons.. Primary Department,,, . Academical Dcpartment... Classical Department. instrumental Music. Vocal .Music. jUse of piano. German and French (each extra),,,,,, Tuition per annum, including hoard, Wood, lights, and washing The same per Torn)...,...,.. Students charged from the time of enlering. For further particulars address the Principals for Circular, Middletown, Del. Oct. 3—it •S 5 00. ... 8 00 . ...11 00. .15 00. ...12 00 . .2 00 . .2 00 . .2 00 . 2 ?o 00 . ..75 00 . 'Vu. A. Raisin. McCOY Sc RAISIH 1 , H. McCoy. General ( ommiNslon JHerchautn. No. It SOUTH STREET, Opposite Corn Exchange, B A. X-i T I M ORE, W E rcrer to the fpllowing among our patrons in Kent county Maryland : Judge Jos. A. Wlckes, Hon. Wm. Welch, WRIiam B. Wilraor, Jervis Spencer, Juno 19—v Hon. Samuel Coraegys George D. S. Handy, ' George T. Holiyday, Dr. Samuel A. Heck. ÿoctrj). TOUCH NOT THC WINE. BY BRITOMARTE. Touch not the wine, touch not the wine ! For though it secinctli fair, There's want and woe within the cup, Their's ruin and despair. Heed not the false or thoughtless ones Its pleasures who extol ; It wrecks the mind, destroys the health And kills the very soul. We meet his victims everywhere, No land thut holds them not; We find them in the rich man's home, The poor man's lowly cot. Its blight'is on the hoary head, And on the youthful brow, And ghastly ruin lingers where Its blinded votaries bow. Touch not the bright but poison cup, Though sparkling in its flow ; It lures thee to destruction with That fuscinating glow I Then touch it not ! oh, touch it not ! It dazzles to betray ; Sin, shame, and sorow follow where It leads the soul away. til For the Middletown Tramcript STOllV OF THE STRANGE ITALIAN. Written in 1842— by Oats. *• Farewfll cr.rth! and tl My la*t thuugnt tlic loveliest h pot of earth— f st prayer, for -By I Sauuanafclcs. I m by birth a Vcuitiin, of noble, but nearly forgotten ancestry—not forgotten by myself, Oh no! Hut by those who now tread the Dogclcss llalls of the Jlride of the Adriatic. I aui the last of my House, and my own Jiying is by my oouutrymei. unknown. I have outlived every tio that could bind me to this world, but feel a sweet as suranco of peace in the world to com. .— i believe not in fate, yet have I been tin victim of strange and gloomy destiny from very early life. You, young stranger, have been kind, very kind to me—•• tho Strange Italian ' —as some have called me—and as tli sands of existence are fast sinking in tin glass, I have determined to rally the wan ing energies of u brief, hut eventful life, by bequeathing you my history. Nay, smile ti it, 'tis oll I have to give in return for your goodness. It may serve " to point a moral,"—and amuse you when I am gone, take it then—when you read it remember the Sinnige Italian. I tun, as I observed, a Venitian. My father was one of the few remaining des cendants of her nobility ; and still retain ed that lofty pride which had distinguished his illustrious ancestry, yet he had managed to bestow good education. My mother I —she died before memory had twined its green garlands around the altar of the heart. I had spoken to my father of her. but I saw it gave him pain, and I called her name to him no more. Our Palace, was ! upon the grand canal —and not very far distant from that of the Manfrini—yet their Lords never ex changed civilities; and indeed, my father never saw company, without indulging subsequently in such gloomy reveries, that by degrees, and finally, lie absented him self from all society ; and in Venice, gay and merry Venice, he was a hermit. Not so his son,—chance had thrown mo into the society of Francesca Manfrini, and I loved her wildly, deeply, passion ately ! She would indeed have reconciled the anchorite to the crowd, that fair in spiration of all things eood and beautiful. You have seen our Venitian maidens— with their expressive countenances—liquid eyes, aud skins where the bright tion throws its softness and richness too. Their long hair sometimes sportively streaming on tho balmy air that whispers over the Laguna, or lying in drooping loveliness upon necks too graceful for aught but tho sculptor's dream of perfec tion—their chaste forms ?—Oh ! Venice ! Venice! city of my birth, and birthplace of my early love ' While my hand traces this blotted cord, how memories of the past riso up before me, and I see your Ducal Palace, your Bialto—St. Marks with its domes glittering in the hues of heaven ; and Oh !—one memory sweeter still, rises in its beauty beforo my eye, I seo my Gon dola,—I am in it—Francesca Manfrini is at my side—my Gondoliers aro pulling dong the Lagutin, humming a wild sweet and—and—but my bruin is on i mocking illusion and a cheat lie was poor, pon me a never saw carna* re to I I air, ami lire ! 'tis Hot to my story Count Manfrini was seldom at home, that ] rarely saw him ; and when 1 did. seemed so abstracted, so wrapped up in self, that he notiaad no one,—not even his daughter Hi« wife had died in giving birth to the lovely Francesca, and perhaps, it similarity of situations,—half orphaned children as we wer», that first led entertain those kindred sympathies which grew into deep and passionate love. Knowing the prejudice which my father entertained for the House nf Manfrini, the cause Ilf which l ooijid not divine. I hud never spoken to him amiocrriing the gurd I entortuined for the daughter, trus ting that time would by some talisnianic power work a change in bis fadings, and the union and harmony of the Houses be brought about by tho uu i\ of their children. Time sped on, I when, as a man. I must lie was a U8 to IV ring the ago epmc forwa-d was nea upon busy stage of action, and as yet I had never breathed to my parent my views in relation to Franeisca. The sub ject must be presented, aud yet I bad undcfinable dread of breaking it to my father. I knew his sterness —I knew the force of prejudice, I knew he did not like to hear the name of Manfrini, and yet, I fondly hoped, that I, whom I knew father loved most fondly, could come his dislike as to consent to link the destinies of the Houses of-and Man frini. Foolish boy that I was ! destiny had written its decrees, and I fancied 1 could reverse them. ! I determined to open the affair to him at all hazards, and if he forbade the union, to break it to Count Manfrini himself, and receiving cither my bliss or my doom in their answers, remove at least the horrid suspense under which I was laboring. 1 selected an occasion,—one beautiful night, as my father and myself ted in our balcony, overlooking the waters of the Grand Canal, to communicate with him on the subject nearest my heart. He heard me out—without uttering a word, until I had finished. I saw how ever his spirit was fiercely agitated, and I almost repented of the step I had taken. " Wed a Manfrini !—By the Holy Vir gin, l would sooner see your corpse float ing in the Laguna, food for fishes, than the offspring of, of—Venitia should wed with the house of an of—" ! He paused, his whole frame was excited, his eye flash ed fire, his cheek was flushed, and his whole soul seemed rocked with passion. But,-a» if for a moment recollecting that / was innocent of any knowledge of the causes that had produced a feud be the houses, he said mildly, but firmly, " No my son, you can never mar ry a Manfrini ! Let it suffice that the tiarrier between your destinies is immov able! Qn there no more. Why did not toll ni" this before? f did not k an my so over I to were sea of ■ ween you now r Knew fhe Manfrini," and he re tirncL But whi n fliil over love regard tho cold t ■ rs 4 pnrontul rulo?—Love! itisaprin cvp: tliaroal, and yet omnipotent. You may Wild tho body down ! you may twine the chain and fasten the fetters, yea the " iron may enter into tho soul," but that hallowed emanation of Doity, triumphs o'er every ill. and amid the green bowers "t the heart sings its anthems of immor t-iHty ! Francesca and I met often—wo vowed eternal constancy—and a thousand imes as my Gondola would glide lessiy as a swan over tho Laguna, >ng a mingled together, breathing deep and passionate love. Why did my father hate the house of Manfrini? I could not tell, t Inverted father's mind ? Why did lie frown when I called the name of Manfrini ? He had never seen tho fair object of my love, why then did he forbid my seeing her, and in terdict fiercely and angrily the ciatiou ? 'twas mystery—all mystery ! One evening my father and myself had returned from a masquerade held at the Palace of a distinguished Venitian ; whither lie had gone at my earnest impor tunity, and as it was early, and a night of exquisite loveliness, we preferred an hour or so on tlic balcony, to retiring. It was an evening of deep beauty. The Adriatic seemed one eternal field of eil The towers of proud old Venice, stood like giant spirits guarding the Dogeless Halls of the silent city. The marble effigies,— those ' as noise liave u * St Had he ambitious vision any 111 iny nsso vor. "Melancholy ghosts of dead renown," as tho English poet expresses it.—silently and mournfully kept watch, around the ruined palaces of the once lofty and queen ly Venice ! I saw that tho scene had touched my father—for a tear was stealing silently down his cheek.—Ilis countenance had lost its sternness—and I could read, that his spirit was communing with the past, as he gazed upon the pure and cloudless heav ens. on "Antonio," said he, in a mild voice, "I have something to say to you, and the present is a fitting occasion. Tho city sleeps, not ko my memory of the past!" "Father," 1 replied, "you are ill, let's retire, your mind is disturbed from incident of the evening ; a little rest will restore you." "No, I can never know rest no my I and first that er's she some again my son, until 1 have opened my heart to y "Futher, speak, I am all attention. "Antonio!" "Father !" "I have that to tell you which will akc you grieve, hut I must tell you, foi a weak old man; I shall not live long, and it concerns you to redress the honor of your House." A strange and undefined idea that the disclosure w hich my futher was about to make, involved some how or other, I could not tell how, tho happiness of Francisco, took possession of me; but determining to know what it was which required my de fence of our own House, nay with a deter mination to sustain Us namo at all hazards, induced me in as calm a tone us possible to request iny father to proceed. "You do not remember your mother, Antonio," ho observed, with emotion; "you could not ; sho died when you faut —she was poisoned , Antonio !" " Poisoned! Holy Virgin! By whom? I devote her murderer to tho Stilletto !" "You are right, my son—you will ask why I did not avenge her death?—01 I would have torn his accursed heart him, aye and given it to tho fishes, but I had sworn—a mighty oath—and now I am absolved. 1 master! this ou. r were au in that low ber This night you are your own - morning's sun dawned upon I 1 a I your birth day,—this day you are free!" "Father, solve this mystery! my brain is on fire! tell me, by whose hand my moth er died ?" "It is a long story, my son, have pa tience, and when you have heard me out, remember, — Venoeance !" "I swear !" "It is well." "Proceed." "Your mother, Antonio, was Venetia Falerio, duughtcr of the celebrated noble of that name, and a descendant of the great Doge of Venice! Half of the Venitian nobility sighed for her hand, and illustri ous foreigners vied with each other in do ing Homage to her queenly benuty. I had just returned from travel, and fired with tlic description of her peerless loveliness, I soon found in the throng that shipped at her shrine. There was another Venitian, whose name I will tell you anon, who aspired to the honor of her hand, but your mother, ere I had pressed my suit many months, became my wife. Fondly, truly, did we love! She gentle, beautiful, gifted ; she was my own Venetia ! The individual whom I mentioned, aspiring to the hand of Venetia, when he found she had preferred the almost beg gared Noble, to his princely magnificence, gave vent to his mortification in dark hints, to which I, knowing his want of courage, and believing it the ebullition of wouuded vanity, paid no regard. A year rolled around, and you, my boy, were born. We were happy—happy in the love of each other, and happy in the smiling prattle of our child. „ -, , , * * * V * m "£u We !' e n t thQ b , anquct of * * *■ The hull was thronged, and among the many guests I noticed this Ven I had left your 'notber's side to ex change civilities with a distinguished for eigner —whose name has sioce become mortal, in song,—and whoso own undy ing genius, has lighted the torch of glory aiound his early g'ravc, Lord Byron. Wo were conversing together of Greece, and he had become animated on the sub j''ct ; his polished pale forehead throbbing with excitement, and bis large dark eye dilating with the very fires of freedom.— In his fascinating conversation I forgot your mother, when I was struck with the change in his Lordship's countenance. Ilis brow contracted, a proud and withering curl of the lip, and a sudden elevation of the body, caused mo to look in the dirce tinu of Ilis gaze, when I beheld the Vcni tian gloating upon me with a look of so much hate, that I involuntarily started.— " What does that pleboan-looking scoun drei mean,"said his Lordship, "by his im pertinent stare?" addressing himself to me. "But stop, no-tis you he is glnr- a ing at-lie has a cut-throat look, you had better beware of him." Ilis Lordship's remark restored me to myself and murmuring an apology to him I fiew to your mother's side She was quaffing from a golden goblet and laughingly observed as I approached -" I was so warm from the heat of tl.e rooms, and so thirsty, would you believe it Bernardo, I have emptied the goblet V Now will you promise me." added she laughing, "if I am poisoned, that you wont reveal who did it, until our boy is s t man ? "If you will swear," she coutin ued, "you wont punish my murderer, but leave it to our little Antonio when he is a hia own master, to avenge it, I'll tell you to whom I am indebted for the draught." Falling iu with her humor, and suppo sing some of the numerous gallauts that were fluttering around the beautiful bein had been her cup-bearer, I exclaimed, " swear!" wor 0 I man. " But in truth," said she, smiling. " In truth." " There he stands!" she observed, point ing to the Venitian. I was thunderstruck ! I remembered the look of hatred he had but just cast up on me, and though I did not dream the fiend had so black a heart as to plot her death, still I grew sad iu spite of myself; and at an early hour our gondola dered aud we left the gay scene of festivity for our quiet palace. About midnight I of we as can was or was aroused by your mother's groans. I awoke her attendants, and found she was in the agonies of death —she could only gasp out "remember the oath made in play,—I did not dream 'twas so—I am poUoned, hut I forgive my mur derer—remember your oath," and throw ing her arms wildly about my neck, she breathed out her spirit upon my bosom ! In my agony I vowed his death—I had no witnosa of his crime, but my own heart —my beautiful Venitia was murdered— aud lie, the wretch,—the assassin, was at largo. But Vcnitia's last words,—" remember your oath," rung in my cars, and when I would, overcome with grief, slumber, I would see her saintly form hovering around my pillow, and hear her silvery voice mournfully calling your oath !" A new thought took possession of mo._ I watched over your tender year.,_I hired, out of my slender means, teachers, and employed physicians to watch the first approaches of disease—not my boy I did not love you much, but also that you might live to avenge your moth er's death. I dreamed last night of your mother, and though her countenanoe was beautiful, still spiritually beautiful, mo thought., she looked sternly upon mo as she said. Bhe we on me, "remember and that with " Our boy is man to-morrow,—remem ber your oath 1" "This evening, my sou, at the mas querade—it is the first gaiety I hav c cn pa out, do had I to he of of in tered into since your mother's death—I saw unmasked, the same hated face of that accursed Ventiian. I thought of my oath / I have told you all." " His name, father, his name,—and hear me Righteous Heaven, who hast per mitted mo to live to strike home to the heart of my mother's murderer, I swear— and I call upon the guardian spirits of Venitian honor to hear my oath—I to slay her murderer !—now father his name." " Manfrini !" " The father of Francesca?" " The same !" " Oh God ! for what tortures am I re served—would I were dead, but I have sworn !" swear I had made up my mind that Francesca was lost to mo ; her father was the wanton murderer of my mother—happiness and I had parted forever, and with a superhu man effort I strove to banish the innocent loveliness of the daughter from my mind, to make room for vindictive resolves against the life of the parent. My father pressed my hand in silence, and turned in from the balcony ;—taking his lamp from a niche, he trimmed it, gazed mournfully at me for a moment, and retired slowly from the room. I had not the strength to follow him, but stood abstracted in thought, when the hum of the gondoliers' songs from the grand canal, stole up the balcony upon the nigbt winds.—I left the spot mechanically, and descending, soon mingled with the crowds that were returning from the masquerade. I had put on n.y mask, and as but few knew me, thus disguised I stole towards the Palace of Manfrini. His gondola * '"3 just landing its passengers and I watched the villain a« hé handed Franceses out . ^ ^ continued next week. j im--•-—- 1 Daily Miracle.. T . , '^/'en our Lord turned water into wtue, 110 dld nothmg more mysterious, nothing £ r ? ater or more divine, than when he now, ,." ore our eyes, turns common water into 1110 sweet sap of the maple and sugar cane, 0r ln f° 1118 delicious juice of the pome 8J ana te, or when he clmnges the miitenal , °, arl , wat ®^ mt ° l luaclous P U 'P . tb - e a PP le """ 4he peach, or the nourish ' n f , lna r " the P otnto * 4t, e maize and the c of w , l ' , we plant together a grain of T,? anJ a g ™" of 0 ° rn ' ll , 1S art of abl or powei of ours that makes the one *° rema,n unchanged in the soil, the other o break forth in roots and stalks and bm 'f ^th fruit öfter its kind." It ,s ^ ,he K? wer ° f God , blmse > f that ,hu . 8 T° rU : f he P 0W< T that cha ? ges a S, ? glc gra "? ° f , corn or wbeat ! nto a î ho " 8and gra,n9 ' 18 tha 8a,,,c 4bat changed the ' seve , n loavc ? ,nto brcad enough to feed four thousand men besides the seven bas V- 8 ° f fr ?8 me " ,s tl,at wcre . left ' Wbe n G,ls c3tcrcise « power occurs in a way that 18 not repeated, we call it a miracle. But wh<n ,t „ ls repeated daily, hourly, all the t,me ' a11 aroun , d "*• we cull it Providence, or nat " re ' , or the law ? of " att e r - . B" 4 - *" trutb ' tbe J; ft8a 88 m the otbc , r - " « God our J Lord - 1 Tb r c I ! 0ttf on 4able '«Ils me aa d '?'>netly of Him as did the loaves mu - t *P 1 > ,,n * '; ls,bl y 10 4be of Jesus, tell tbo8e rudc mo "n ta 'neers of Galilee, that were " tandln g w the presence of a n,ost grac,ous and powerful benefactor, 0 I is a be by SinpriNO Fruit. —So much has been said about the marketing of fruits that one would not think it necessary to add more. Yet when we go through the markets and see the worthless stuff, which might bave brought good returns if it bad been well picked, we must, at the risk of reputation, say more about Packing. —We go among the commis sion men and find invoices of peaches, pears and apples, which bring small returns, for tbe want of proper Assorting—Ilad use ry Let two will if half the fruit—the best of it—been sent it would have brought twice the price. In New York, and we presume it is tbo same in other mar kets, it is difficult to sell a poor article, except to the street venders, at the lowest price. A large portion of the fruit lent had better be fed to the pigs at home, for its destination here is the rubbish heap, and the shipper has to pay the expenses. Picking and Packing are as important as raising good frnit. The time to pick can only be learned by experience. The fruit should bo just in that condition in whioh it will reach the oonsunier in good order. Piok by hand, and paok in orates, baskets or barrels so firmly that the fruit can sustain no injury from the motion du ring transportation." ing ers cut into leas, in it, fresh A daughter is almost always right when Bhe endeavors to imitate her mother ; but we do not think tbe mother is equally right when, at a certain period of life, she tries all she can to imitate her daughter. What is tho difference between very young and very old women ? The first are careless and happy; tbe second, hairless and cappy. Do the beat you can, whatever you dertake ; if you arc only a street sweeper, sweep your very best. jar the salt coyer using soak. un To remove old, hardened putty, dip a small brush in nitric or muriatio acid, and with it anoint or paint over the dry putty adhering to broken glass or frames ofyour windows. After an hours interval the putty will become quite soft and easily movable. your their re of my the of his re Useful Jïerippü. How to Fatten a Pooh Horse. —Many good horses devour large quantities of grain and hay, and still keep poor. The food eaten is not properly a .«si mutated. If the usual feed bas been unground grain and hay, nothing but a change will effect any desirable alteration in the appearance of the animal. In case oil meal cannot be obtained rendily, mingle a bushel of flax seed with a bushel of barley, one of oats, and another bushel of Indian corn, and let it be ground into fine meal. This will be a fair proportion for all his feed, meal of barley, oats and corn, in equal quantities, may first be procured, and one fourth part of oil cake mingled with it, when the meal is sprinkled on cut feed. Feed two or three times daily, mingled with a peck of cut hay and straw. If the horse will eat that amount greedily, let the quantity be gradually increased until he will eat four or six quarts at every feeding three times a day. So long as the animal will eat this allowance, the quantity may be increased a little every day. But avoid the practioe of allowing a horse to stand at a raok well filled with hav. Or, the I w . , «™.--A «Qgular method of making butte . r ha T 8 latel y 801,18into T 0 ' 48 extensive l? se V? France, based upon the observed WÇ'. that cream is changed into butter by I beln S ""PÎ7 bar,8d "> *»«• earth. The b eory of'h>s result 18 not very mtelligble, though the fact is stated to be beyond ques t>°n ; and in Normandy and other parts of j France, butter is actuary prepared on a 1 large scale in this way l'h process con- j sista in placing the cream in a linen hag of moderate thickness, which is carefully clos cd ; then burying the bag about a foot and allowing it to remain from twenty-four to twenty-five hours. After the expira ,; on 0 f t j, i9 p Cr j 0( i the cream is found to have become hard, and it is then broken up by means of a wooden beater into small pieces, and enough water pored upon it to wash out the buttermilk. To prevent any mixture of the earth, it is advisable to en c ] 0Ee t [, e t, ag ; n a sceon( ] one 0 f larger size and coarser quality. This method of mak ing butter saves a great deal of labor, and separates the butter more perfectly than the ordinary process; and wo nro assured that butter thus prepared is of most excel lent quality, In order to fatten a horse that has run down in flesh, the groom should be very particular to feed the animal no more than he will eat clean and lick the manger for more.— Mans. Ploughman. up Grape Layers. —These may be easily made on a small scale by the amateur, by the farmer who wishes to plant out additional vine or two, by laying down a good strong shoot of this summer's growth, and burying it a few inches deep at the middle. Boots will bo thrown out at the joiDts, and by taking up before winter and cutting in two, two good plants will be made from each layer. If the laying down is done too soon, the shoot will be soft, aud may rot; if left too late, there will not be time enough for the roots to form. The proper season is just when it is be ginning to assume a little of the hardness of wood. The formatiou of layers exhausts a vine in the same way that runners ex haust strawberries ; they should therefore be sparingly made from bearing vines. If tho summer happens to be very dry, the soil at the buried part must be kept moist by mulching. or an to a of in at jug an of out nor of is Blackberry Wine. —Thero is no wine equal to blackberry wine when properly made, in flavor or for medical purposes, aud all persons who can conveniently do so, should manufacture enough for their use every year, as it is invaluable in sick tonic, and nothing is a better remedy for bowel complaint. We, there fore, give the receipt for making it : mea sure your berries and bruise them ; to eve ry gallon add 1 quart of boiling water. Let tbe mixture stand twenty-four hours, stirring occasionally; then strain off the li quor iuto a cask, and to every gallon add two pounds of sugar ; cork tight and let it stand till the following October, and you will have wine ready for uso without fur ther labor, that every family will highly appreciate aud never do without afterwards if they can help it. own ness as a To Restore Wilted Flowers. —Accord ing to one of our exchanges, if wilted flow ers havo about half an inch of their stems cut off, and the stalk thus trimmed inserted into boiling water, they will in a few mo ments resume almost their original fresh The process is most applicable to colored flowers, as roses, geraniums, aza leas, &o., white ones turning yellow. Thief petaled flowers show the most marked im provement. Another exoellent method of restoring freshness to old flowers is to pla6c them in water, and cover with a glass shade. Finely powdered charcoal placed in the bottom of the flowers inserted into it, has a marked effect in maintaining them fresh a long time, and keeping the water sweet. How To Preserve Green Corn. —In a jar put a layer of salt, on that a layer of the fresh corn, and alternate thus with the salt and corn until the jar is full. Then coyer the top with salt. The day before using take the oorn out and put in water to soak. If you are annoyed by cockroaches i your houses, scatter green elder leaves i their haunts M HI on in the of be let be it, he lalalH a Banker. In the troubled days of Ireland, toward» the close of the last century, a daring fal low, one Teddy Muhooney, was at the head of a band of his desperate and starving countrymen, who scoured the district in which they belonged, waging merciless war oa the oppressors of their country, a ad visiting with the direst outrages those who had the reputation of grinding the faoes of the poor. One of the most obnoxious men in the county where their operations were con. ducted, was one Sir Lawrence Wood, a rich man. who. had a bank of his own, and was fortune by his financial speculations. In the course of their predatory career, Mul rooney's band seized, at various points, a large amount of Sir Lawrence's notes, some thirty thousand pounds' worth, all of which they plaeed in the bands of their leader to dispose of as his w isdom thought best. of a j scythes. "For Heaveu's sake," said the terrified banker, "spare my life !" "Whist! ye murthcriiT thafe of the world !" Baid Tcddv. "It's not yer lrfc we're afther destbroyiu'—but it's what yo live for we'll dcsthroy before yer oyes, yc omodhoun. Look there, ye ould divil ! and there ! and there ! what's thim ?" and Teddy thrust an immense heap of bank notes under the nose and eyes of the ban ker, aud then, elevating his torch, took Sir Lawrence by the nape of his neck, and bent his head forward so that be could read the osed to bave amassed an immense One dark night, a shout like that of a thousand demons announood ta Sir Law rence that the rebels bad broken into the park that surrounded bis elegant country seat, while, at the same time, a glare of light gave him to understand that the in cendiary torch had been applied to his dwelling. He was mistaken in that, how for when he had hurried on his ever, clothes and presented himself at the hall door to beg that the lives of himself and family might be spared, he saw that the invaders had merely kindled a fire of brushwood on the lawn. Hut the specta cle was alarming enough, as the light fall on a wild group of fierce men, ragged, and yet armed with every species of strange weapon—pikes, pistols, reaping-hooks, and paper. "They're notes on my bank," 6aid he; "do you want to present them ?" "To make ye a prisint of them?" cried the rebel. "Do ye think we're afther ma king fools of ourselves, whin we've had the trouble of collectin' yer dirthy paper ? Na, ye spalpeen! we'll desthroy ivery scrap of 'em up before the eyes of yez." "For Heaven's sake, gentlemen." said the banker, secretly delighted at the intel ligence, "you wouldn't beggar myself and family !" "In course we wouldn't!" said Mulroo ney ironically. "No, we oome here to fill your pockets av course. Look here, there goes a thousand pounds!" And he threw a handful of notes into the blaxe. "And there's another thousand! and an other! and another! Och, there's lashina of 'em ! And there goea the last ; and now ye're as poor as the poorest man among us. The banker affocted to be in the great est agony ; he tore his hair, wrung his haDds, beat bis breast, groaued, aud even pumped up a few tears. Teddy watched him with ferocious satisfaction, and when the sacrifice was completed, exclaimed: "There, boys, we've ruined him intirely. Aud now, yo old thafe of the woruld, go to bed aud say yer prayers, and plisiut drames to yet." With a cheer, the midnight marauders, after dancing round tho expiring bonfire, retired in high glee, completely satisfiw) with their exploit of "ruining a banker," Sir Lawrence Wood waited until the last ■nan had disappeared, then he burst into a horse-laugh and went up to bed, in the happy consciousness of being thirty thous and pounds richer than he was five min utes before. We know not whether Mr, Mulrooney ever discovered bis mistake, but the banker had provided against such a contingency and bis consequent venge auce, by securing the presence of a strong detachment of troops till tbe troubles of the day were ovor. Bachelors, Attention !—The attention of bachelors is invited to the following "wail:" "There arc some sad sights in this world ; a city ransacked and burnt—a bat tle-field after a great slaughter—a London in the midst of a plague—a ahip burning at sea—a family pining in starvation—a jug of molasses wrecked upon the pave, meut. All bad, it is true. "But to us, the saddest sight of all it an old bachelor wearing towards tho end of his journey of life, his great duties un. done. Miserable creature! just look at him ; his shirt buttons off—his stookiugs out at tbe toes—not a son or daughter, nor a relative to drop a tear, close his eyes in death, or to leave his nioney to -- - ,£_ "Off she goes," said a lady, speaking of the train as it was starting. "Yon have mistaken the gender, madam," said a gen tleman, ' this is a mail train." A bit of a paradox. When a shoemaker is going to maka a boot the 6rU thine he uses is the last. A lawyer s "effects" are apt to depend on the number of his "causas."