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JwX &aM e 3A2t3i $mm J..! j i , r. - i J. W. ROBERTS, ScbofeJ fo agicijite, eciftii)icst flrts, ftetos, w3 Seijefci. Kiee. E4iUr aid Prtf rieUr. - , o L JE ' ' VOLUME IV, NUMBEE 50. OSKALOOSA, KANSAS AUGUST 18, 1864, WHOLE NUMBER, m Cai The Independent -U CI I t C 9ktttkt& WtltYYl &r v,rww THE FATnCBLA. T JlMIS imu I.OWILL. Where to the true aaaa's fatherland T It It when he by chance to bora ? Doth not the yearning spirit com In such scant border to be spanned? Oh, yet, hU fatherland matt be As the Woe hearen, wide and free t la it alone where freedom to, Where Gd U God, and man U man? Doth he not claim a broader span For the soul's lore of homo than this? Oh, yes, his fatherland most be As the bine hearen, wide and free I Where'er a human hevt deth wear Joy's myrtle wreath, or sorrow's cyref, Where'er a human spirit sirires After a life more true and fair. There b the true man's birth-place (rand, His U a world-wide fatherland. Where'er a single slare doth pine, Where'er one man may help another Thank God for such a birth-right, brother: That spot of earth to thins and miue ! There Is the true man's birth-place grand, His Is a world-wide fatherland t GOD'S BLESSING. God tends the silrcry dew of eve , To all the tiny cop Of every Bower o'er all the earth, That meekly looketh a p. , And nertr weary heart is lurnsd. With trotting tore to Him, But tuflly at the evening dew, His blessing falls within. JMtcte. ftoitb. Oar Old Grandmother. I 6nd ibe marks of my shortest steps beside those ot my beloved mother, which were measured by my own," says Alexander Dumas, and so conjures up one of the sweetest images in the world. He was tevisiting the home of his in fancy; he was retracing the little paths wround it in which he bad walked; and strange flowers -could not efface, and rank weeds could not conceal, and cruel plows could not obliterate"iiis"bhortest footsteps," and his mother's beside them rueasuted by his own. And who seeds to be told whose foot steps lliey were that thus kept time with the feeble paltering of childhood's little leei? It was not the mother behind whom Ascanius walked "with unequal step,'" in Virgil's lime, but a slrong.stern man. who could h tve borne him and not been burdened; folded him in his arms fiom all danger, and not been wearied; everything indeed, he couU have done for him, but just what he needed most could not sjmpnihize with himj he could not be a child ag.iiii. Ah ! a rare ai t u that, for indeed it is an art, to set tack the great old clock of time, and be a boy once more. Man's imagina tion can easily see the child a man; but how hard it is for it to see the man a child; and he who had learned to glide back into that rosy time, when be did not know that thorns were under roses. or that clouds would ever return after the rain: when he thought a tear could stain a cheek no more than a drop of rain a flower; when he fancied that life had no disguise, and hope no blight at all, has come as near as anybody can to discovering the north-west passage to Paradise. And it is, perhaps, for this reason.ihat it is so much easier for a mother to en ter the kingdom of heaven than it is for the rest of the world. Sh fancies she is leading the children, when, after all, the children are leading her i and they keep her, indeed, where the river is the narrowest and the air is the clearest; and the beckoning of a radi nt land is so plainly seen from the other side, that it is no wonder she often lets go the clasp upon the little fingers she is hold ing, and iroes over to the neighbors, and the children follow like Iambs to the fold, for we think it ought somewhere to be written "Where the mother i, nitre will the child be also." But it was not of the mother that we began to think, but of the dear, old fashioned grandmother, whose thread of Vote, spun "by hand" on life's little wheel, was longer and stronger than " thev saake it how. was wound about the children she aw playing ia her chil dren's arms in a true love knot, that nothing but the shear of Atroaos could sever; lor do' we nut recognize the lambs sosMiisaes, when the summer days are jver, and autumn winds are blowing, . they' come bleating from the yellow jaekls, by the crhmon thread we wound .aboal their necks ia April or May, and so aado the gate and let the wanderers inj Blessed be the children who bars an t old-fashioned arudmother. As they .hope lor length ef days, let theas love aad-boaor her, for we can teH theas tbey will nernd another, r There is little old kitchen some where in the past, and an old-fashioned wre-alaee therein, with its smooth old jaaabsef stone; saaootb with many knives that had been sharpened there witn assay little infers that have olanf were There are sad-irons, too; the old and jfas with ting in the top. wherein ay temples of fame hare been baild- ed, with spires and tarrets of crimson. There is a broad worn hearth, broad enough for three generations to cluster on; worn by feet that have been lorn and bleeding by the way, or been made "beautiful" and walked upon floors of tesselated gold. There are tongs in the corner, wherewith we grasped the oal, and "blowing for a little life," lighted our 6rst candle; there is a sbovel.where witb were drawn forth the glowing em bers, in which we saw our first fancies and dreamed our first dreams; the shov el, with which we stirred the seepy logs till the sparks rushed up the chimney, as if a forge were in full blast below, and we wished that we had so many lambs, or so many marbles, or so many somethings that we coveted; and so it was that we wished our brsl wish. There is a chair; a low rash-bottom chair; there is a little wheel ia the cor ner, a big wheel in the garret, a loom in the chamber. Theie are chests full of linen and yarn, and quilts of rare pat terns, and "samples" in frames. And everywhere and always the dear old wrinkled face of her whose brm. elastic step mocks the feeble saunter of her children's children the old-fashioned grandmother of twenty years ago, She the very Providence of the old I homestead; she who loved us all; and said she wished there were moic of us to love, and took all the school in the Hollow for grandchi'dren beside. A great, expansive heart was hers.beneath that woolen gown, or mat soie ueinoon of silken texture. We can see her to-day, those mild blue eyes, with more of beauty in them than Time could touch, or Death do more than hide those eyes that held both smiles and tears wuhin the faintest cdl of every one of us, and soft reproof, that seemed not pasion, but regret. A white tress has escaped from beneath her snowy cap; she has just restored a wandering lamb to its mother; sli leng thened the tether of a vine that whs straying over a window, as she came in, and plucked a four-leaved clover for Ellen. She sits down by the little wheel a tress is running through her fingers from the distaQ's disheveled head, when a small voice cries "Grand ma." from the old red cradle; and "Grandma 1" Tommy shouts from the top of the stairs. Gently she lets go the thread, for her patience is almost as beautiful as her charity.and she touches the little red batk a moment, till the young voyager is in a dream again, and then directs Tommv's unavailing at tempts to harness the cat. The tick of the clock runs faint and low, and she opens the mysterious door and proceeds to wind it up. We are all on tip-toe. and we beg in a breath to be lifted up one by one.and look in for the hundredth time upon the tin cases of the weights, and the poor, .lonely pendulum, which goes to and fro by its little dim window, and nevr comes out into the world; and our petitions are all granted, and we are lifted up, and we all touch with a finger the wonderful weights, and the music of the little wheel is resumed. Was Mary to be married, or Jane to be wrapped in a shroud ? So meekly did she fold the while hands of the one upon her still bosom, that there seemed to be prayer in them there; and so sweet ly did she wreathe the white roses in the hair of the other, that one would not have wondered had more roses budded for company. How she stood between as and appre hended harm; bow the rudest of us soft ened beneath the pressure of her faded and tremulous hand ! From her capac ious pocket that band was ever with drawn closed, only to be opened in our own, with the nuts she had gathered, ite cherries she had plucked, the Hi tie egg she had found, the f'turnover" she had baked, the trinket she had purchas ed for as as the product of her spinning, the blessing the bad stored for us, the offsDring of her heart. Well, shesang. Her voice was feeble and wavering, like a fountain just ready to fall, bat then, how sweet-toned it was; and it became deeper and stronger; but it could not grow sweeter. Wnat "joy of grief it was to sit there around the fire, all of as, except Jane, that clasped a prayer to her bosom, and her we tho'l we saw, when the ball door was opened a moment by the wind; but theu we were not afraid, for wasn't it her old smile she wore? to sit there around the fire, and weep ovor the "Babes in the Woods," who laid down side by side in tha creat solemn shadows; 'and how strangely glad we felt when robin red breast coverea mem whu leaves, nu last of all, when the angels took them oat of night into day everlasting. We may think what we will ot it now, but the song and the story heard around the kitchen fire hare colored the tho'i and lives of the most of us; have given as the germs of whatever poetry hless our hearts: whatever of memory blooms in our vesterdaye. Attribute whatever s aaav to the school and the school Mater, the rays which make that little dav we call life, radiate from the God swept circle of the beartb-atone. Then ahe sings an old lullaby she sang to mother, her mother sang to her; but she does not sing it through, and falters ere 'lie done. She rests ber head upon her bands, and it is silent in the old kitchen. Something glitters down be tween ber fiBgera in the fire-light, and it looks like rain ia the soft sunshine. The old grandmother is thinking when she first heard the song.and of the voice that sang it; when, a light haired and light hearted girl, she hung around that I mother's chair, nor saw the shadows of me years to come, u, me aays tnat are no more I What spell enn we weave to bring them back ? What words un say, what deeds undo, to set back, just this ouee, the ancient clock of time ? So all our little hands were forever clinging to her garments and staying her, as if from dying, for long she bad done living for herself, and lived alone in us. But the old kitchen wants a presence to-day, and the rush-bottomi chair is tenantles? How she used to welcome ns when we were grown, and come back once more to the homestead. We thought we were men and wo men, but we were children there. The old fashioned graudmother was blind in her eyes, but she saw with her heart, as she always did. We threw our long shadows through the open door.and she felt them, as tbey tell over her form, and she looked dijnly up .and saw tall shapes in the door-way, and she says, "Ed ward I know you, and Lucy's vic I can hear, but whose is that other ? It must be Jane's," for she had almost for got tho folded hands. "O, w. nol Jane, for she let me see, she is waiting for me.isn'l she ?"' And he Old gnuid mother wandered and wept. "It is another daughter, grandmoth er, that Edward has brought," says some one, "for your blessing " "Has she blue eyes, my son ? Put her hand in mine, for she is my latest born, the child of my old age. Shall I ting you a song, children ? Her hand u in her pocket, as of old ; she is idly fumbling for a toy a welcome gilt for tht children that have come again. One of us, men as we thought we er?, is weeping: she hears the half suppressed sob; she sats.as she extends iier table hand "Here, my poor child, rest uton your grandmother's shoulder; she wfj protect you from all harm. "Co lie, children, sit round the fire again. Shall I sing vou a song, or tell you a sto-y ? Stir the fire, for it i culd; the nighliare growing colder." The clotk in the corner struck nine, the bed-lirte of those days. The song of life was radeed sung: the story told; it was bed-tine at last, tiuod-nifi.il to tl.f... irramim.iliBr ! TI.a nhl taiLinn-it grandmother was no more, and we miss her forever. 'Jul we will set up a tablet in the midst of the heart, and write up on it only this: SACSED V) THE MEMORT it the OLD FASOIONB) OKAMDUuTIIER. God lilrts fhr Forever. .....- - .- ...a . ..w w.w .. vw lay Only What Tot, Want. To buy nothing you do not want is a maxim as old almost as Wcioty itself. But it is also one that is continually slipping out of mind, and vbich can not, therefore, be brought forward again too frequently. Spending money. in fact, is a vice common to hunan na ture. Where one man degrade him self by. being a miser, ten run co.stan.1 peril of ruining themselves by extrava gance. It is so fins to have elegant furniture, to live in a handsome hosse, or to dress one's wife and clrldren in rich apparel, that it requires an unusual degree of firmness, especially in this prosperous age, to resist tne tempta tion. If everybody was compiled to pay cash for such gratifications, there would be some slight check on this tendency to useless expenditure. But credit is so easily obtained in this coin try, and buyers are so sanguine of tid ing ready when settling day comes.ihii thousands of families are induced an nually to cripple their future cum for is. !, by indulging in present tollirs. at11 the men who reach old age impoverish ed, and perhaps even a greater number, owe their dependent condition, at that saddest of all timesaso bo beggared, to early extravagance. If we were all to buy only what we wanted, this would not be. We are far from recommending a niggardly parsiumny; for ono of the purposes of weahh is that it should be distr.buted in encouraging trade and the arts. But still even the wealthiest, with few ex ceptions, frequently buy what they do not want; witile loose less tavoreu in cessantly violate this golden rule. The preacher, lawyer or physician, attract ed by some new and costly book, per suades himself that his profession re quires be should have it, and spends on it a sum that he often netds tor mora necessary purposes before tho year is over. The wife, charmed by a new style of dress, lavishes awy her money is delighted for a while.but lives to re Dent it. if she is a woman of sense. The Cither, proud of his daughter thinks no expense too great to gratify her whims. The young man, fond of horses, does not stop to count the cost when coveting a famous trotter. The fashionable couple, who like lo be snr rounded with mirrors, pictures and fiue furniture generally, squander money disproportionately on such costly gew- mtWiutnu. gaws. Yet all learn, sooner or later.to regret what they have done, since they have added nothing to their happiness, as ten of thousands have discovered before, after buying what they did not really want. franklin a homely story about the whistle would be well to be remember ed by us all. It is not enoagh that a purchase gratifies us at the lime. To be a judicious expenditure, it should be such a one as we can recur to after wards with satisfaction. If Mrs. A., when she moves into her new bouse, spends so much money on furniture that her husband's dinners suffer by it. is he not paying too dear for bis whistle? If Mrs. B. gives so elegant a party to her friends that the housekeeping is stinted all the rest of the wiuier; if Mrs. C, by going to Cape May with her daughters, makes such an inroad on her husband's salary, tha. his old coat has to last another winter; if Mrs. D.'s piano for that prodigy, "Our Mari anne," takes the earnings of whole weeks what is all this but paying loo dear for the whistle? Whenever we buy what we don't want, we deprive ourselves of things we really require. To be wise is to err, if anytbing.on the other side. If we deny ourselves a little, if we learn to buy nothing until we are sure we want it, we 'shall both avoid its perils and extravagance and discipline our characters. Amid the hurry and temptations of this prosper our age, it is well to recall occasionally these old maxims of prudence and wisdom. Time thus spent is not wast ed. Ledger. The Fireside. Don't thisyfmtdle look pleasant, with its oldlashioned andirons? Pussy seems to think so, as she sits there and gazes in it, with her tail curled around tier so contentedly. The dog has for gotten his old enmity to the cat, in the warm atmosphere of this cheerful hearth.and is quietly snoozing. There is a pair of slippers waitingfor "some body,' and a foot stool upon' which to rest the weary leet. The shovel and longs s'und like good soldiers ready for duty. We hope to make this column as bright and cheerful as this picture to '. j our renders. It is suggestive to ns. In amg lor new tilings, we win not lor- K Ihe old. 1 lie ow-lasliionea lire- 1. pUce possesses many advantages over our new coil grates and (urnacs. It is so with many an old opinion. From tht dog and cat we may learn to forget old enmities. To do this, we must surround ourselves with a warm and bright atmosphere. But our dearest desire is to make smooth and beautiful the path for those dear feet for whom the slippers wail co cozily; while the shovel and tongs shall "leach wives and daughters to mi dt we aresuie 01 we ncarui, eit tr I Fei eedtag lis lames.' A Career. Fanny had caught the taste of public applause, and it was sweet sweeter than anything she had ever known. Her inmost soul bad been thrilled by its penetrating flavor, and she became conscious of a new hung er, a new thirst.a new longiog. A now motive of life was born within her, and she must have a career that she might win more praise, and drink more deeply at the fountain which the day and its events had opened to her. Her soul was on fire with new-kindled ambition. Life grew golden and glorious to her. Projects of achievement rose like fairy palaces in her imagination, and ran out in glittettng lines to the lariuest verge. She would bo an authoress. She would write books. She would reveal her life in poetry, the rausic of whose numbers should charm ll world, and compel the world to give her homage. She would hold the mirror up to life in fic- iion, and win the piaMits or tbe na tions, like women of wtom she hat) heard. She would cross th seas, and ifalher from the masters their secrets. ,;and then she would return and glorify .i -...1 !. n.it.iii ho arm.- ..t iirsr name rniu nci mMu j .. ui inequaled art. Slu- would become a visitor of orisons, and a minister a mercy to the abodes of infamy and of misery, and win immortality for a life devoted lo works of charity. She would be a missionary, and, on "India's burning sands," plant the standard -ol the cross. She would slanu oetore public assemblies, and there assert, not only hsr own womanhood, but ihe rights of ber sex. She would Dave a career of some kind, Dr. J. O. Holland's New Xovtl. He who has God for a friend should fear nothing, for whether in danger or security, in joy or in sorrow, in adver sitv orprosperity, in sickness or health, in life or death, in time or eternity, ho is still in God as a friend, and nothing that mav befal him can harm ; for what soever comes to pass, cornea with God's Eresence, and must be tor tne Dest; yet ow few attain to this degree of faith, hifth brings constant serenity, peace and rest of spirit, or even that lower de-. irree which says from the Heart, 'lny will be done 1' with full and willing re signal ion. "Who settled Virginia?' John Smith. "Who unsettled Virginia?' John Brown. "Who settled John Brown?" Virginia. Meiwii. MerrttsmeM. The morbid nervousness of the pre sent day appears in several ways. It brjngs a man sometimes to that startled state that the sudden opening of a door, the clash of a falling fire-iron, or any little accident, puts him in a flutter. How nervous thejate Sir Robert Peel must have been, when, a few weeks before his death, he went to the Zoolo gical Gardens, and when a monkey suddenly sprang upon bis arm.tbe great and worthy mau fainted! Another phase of nervosness is when a man is in a state thai the least noise or cross occurrence srems to jar through the entire nervous system to upset him, as we say; when he cannot command his mental powers, except in perfect stilt1 nets, or in the chamber, and at bis writing table, to which he is accustom ed; when, in short, he gets fadgety,! easily worried, full of whirus and fan cies, which mtisi be indulged and con sidered, or he is quite out of sorts. Another ph i-u- of iho same morbid condition is, when a human being is oppressed with a vague, undefined fear thai things are going wrong, that his income will not meet the demands up on it, thai his child's lungs are affected, thai his mental powers are leaving him a state of mind which shades rapidly off into positive insanity. Indeed, when matters remain long in any of the fash ions which hav6 been described, I sup pose the natural termination must be disease of the heart, or a shock of paralysis, or insanity in the form either of mat.ia or idiocy. Numbers of com mon-place people, who could feel very acutelv. but who could not tell what they felt, have been worried into fatal disease by prolonged anxiety and misery Every one knowns how paralysis laid its hand upon Sir Waiter Scott, always great, lastly heroic. Protracted anxie- tr, how to make the ends meet, with a large family and an uncertain income. drove a fcsoulhoy s brst wire into a lunatic asylum; and there is hardly a more touching story than that of ber fears and forebodings through nervous ness ear after year. Nol less sad the end of her overwrought husband, in blauk vacuitv: "nor Ihe like end of Thomas Moore. And perhaps the sad dest instance of the result of an over driven nervous system, in recent days, was the end of that rugged, honest, wonderful genius, Ilugh Miller. Re creations qf a County Parson. Anobt Letters. An angry letter is much fiercer than an angry speech. There the words remain scorching, not to be explained away, nol to be atoned for by a kiss not to be softened down so quickly upoi spoken anger. This at least should be a rule through the letter-writing world, that no angry letter be posted till fonr-and-twenty hours shall have elapsed since it was written. We all know how absurd is all that rule, of saying the alphabet when you are angry. Trash! Sit by the' word of love that may follow down and write your letter; write it with all the venon in your power; spit out your spleen at the fullest; it will do you good. You think jmi have been injured, say all that your poisoned elo quence, and gratify yourself by read ing it while your temper is still hot. Then put it in your dek; and, as a matter of course, burn it before break fast the following morning. Believe me, that you will then have a double gratification. "Are you fond of novels, Mr. J. ?" "Very."' responded the interrogated gentleman, who wished to be thought by the 1 idv questioner, fond of litera ture. "Have ou," contiuued the lady. "ever read Ten Thousand a Year T "No, nridam, 1 never read lhat ber of novels in all my life." nam- Sentiment and Humor. Wiili ewry child we lose, we see deep er into lite, "as with every added lens we pierce farther the sky. As the sword of the best tempered metal is the most flexible, so the truly gneious are the most pliant and couri eota Cat. observed that he would much rather posterity should inquire why no statues w-e erected to him. than why they were. With many k;8 a nrP thing to hear a story as ii is tea nnr glj 0 nm. ember it as beard, sna rarett of all to tell it as remembereo. Tbe love which does nt. ..a to 1.1. will soon die out, and tha .nkfulneas which does not emb dy useln Mcri. fices, is already changed to ingrs.ude (ude. To be independent of a neighbor, must first have acquired a perfect ma. tery over himself. How should one aMn his faculties to obedience, be fore he has trained his own to a perfect subservience to right ? God will accept the first attempt, not as a peafeet work, but as a beginning. The beginning is the promise of Ihe'end. The seed always whispers 'oak,' though ii is so'Bg iulo ihe ground au acorn. 1 am sure that the first little blades of wheat are just as pleasaat to the farm Ms aye as the whole field waving witb grain. Light seem the natural enemy of evil deeds. Who would not be honest, if they knew its sweets ? A womaa who wants a charitable heart wanls a pure heart. The Chinese say there is a well of wisdom at the root of every grey hair. Good is stronger thaa evil. A sin gle really good man ia an ill place, is like a little yeast in a gallon of dough; it can leaven the mass. Unwonted care is the creature' of ase ls indulgence, or wanton extrava gance, tbe really needful in life can be obtained without it. Next to" being upright and faithful in the performance of your duty, be decided, and then you will make either inenasor toes worth having. It is vain to slick yoar finger in the water, and palling it oat, look for a hole; and equilly vain to suppose that how ever large a space you occupy, the world will miss you when yoa die. Good men are human suns ! Tbey brighten and warn whenever they piss. Fools count them mad, till death wrenches open foolish eyes. Tbey are not often sung by poets when they die; but the hearts they heal and their own are their rich reward on.earth,aad their place is high in heaven. I am not anxious,' said Mr. Adams, of Falkirk, in the middle of the last cen tury, and when near his journey's end. 'I am not anxious either lo live or die ; if I die, I shall be with God ; and if I live, he will be with me.' WANTED TO KSOW : Whether the doge of Venice ever bit any person. Whether a mnnufactarer of vials is a vile mt.n. Whether Venire preserved was pre served in brown or white sugar. Whether a light-house is any lighter Uian a common dwelling-house. Where a person is carried to when he is carried awiy by excitement. Whether Mason and Dixon's line was a line of stage coaches or steam packets. Whether the powder magazine con tains good reading on the subject of la dies' dresses. 'Marquis, said Louis XIV, one day to de Bierce, 'you make puna upon all subjects, make one upon me. 'Sire.' replied the cautious Marquis, 'yoa are no subject.' That was a triumphant appeal of the lover of antiquity, who, ia arguing the superiority of old architecture over the new, said : 'Where will you find any modern building that has lasted so long as the ancient ?' An Arabian having brought a blush 10 a maiden's cheek by the earnestness of his gaze, said to her : 'My looks have planted roses in your cheeks ; who for bids me lo gather them ? The law per mits him who sows lo reap the harvest. Deacon F. likes quiet ia a church, and the little Tootem children like loz enges. They champed, champed last Sunday till the Deacon could sit no lon ger ; so, leaning towards Tootem, he whispered : 'Your children are annoy ing me,' 'Ah !' responded T., who is not worried by trifles ; 'I thought they were gnawing the lozenges. When Mr. Wilbei force was a candi date for Hull, his sister, an amiable and witty young lady, offered the compli ment of a new gown to each of the wives of those freemen who should vote for her brother ; "on which she was sa luted with a cry of 'Miss Wilberforce, forever!' when she plieasantly observed, 'I thank you, gentlemen, but cannot a- gree with you for, really, I do not wish to be Miss Wilberforce forever !' All who lake the best of drinks are always itttf-supplied. When is Tim Smead like a dog ? When be is growling. "Boy, where does this road go to ?" "I don't think it goes anywhere. I al ways sees am here every morning." Irish Sergeant: Attention company, and 'tend to rowl call. All of ye that are presint say 'here,' and all of ye that are not presint, say aosint.' Cuffy said he'd rather die ia a rail road smash up than a steamboat burst up, for this reason: "If yoa gets off and smashed up, dar yoa is; but if yoa gets blow up on the boat, war is you?" There are reproaches which praise, and praises which reproach. Nothing but religion is capable of changing pains into pleasures. Religion has nothing more to fear han not being sufficiently Understood, A man greater than his misfortunes,- ,s lhat Be was nol deserving of them. MirnlV;- M6derate caibre ordinarily condemn xylBing whMl m y,Joid their taaige. " Never fear to V right for the',, of right. litude should be ageiusv "; v-LTT.. make nothing right tkaVs0", JmXAx gwm attf uisU. rkntiBf IrmitTxeW; Many of oat; formers wiirplaat fraft trees next spring. The higlMtst greaast oa the (arm saoaid oe selected ior ia orchard. It should be well plowed and harrowed, as for corn; then crossed with a two-hone plow, at suitable dis tances, aad the trees planted if the' crosses. It Uu cannot im Hon, the hole for the tree should be large, rouad; ba't not deeper ibaa to the subsoil. The' trees shoald be ordered of some reliable' nursery man, and the nearer home the better, as tbey will be o it of the groaad a shorter time; besides, foreign trees seldom live to bear fruit here; aad if they do, it is not often satisfactory, A few summer and fall apples shoald always be planted for family ase; bat for market, wiater varieties s-hould be selected, and those which keep the long est are tho best, for the reason that ap ples in March or April always bring foar times as much as in ihe fall RawWs Janet, Wine Sap, and Little Komaaite, are amongst our best long keeping sorts. Plant from twenty-four to thirty-two feet apart for apples, say forty or fifty trees to the acre; then plant pach trees between them one Way ; cultivate the ground to boed crops, until the trees begin to bear fruit, then stock with' clover. S. Burnet, Vincennes, Ind . Cccumbvr Toast. Select your cu cumbers fresh, criso. medium size just such as yoa would prefer, if served! ap in tbe usual manner; pare, and slice lengthwise ia cats a quarter of an inch thick; rinse in cold water, dip each slice singly in lour, andliurry them into the dripping pan, using (ot material to fry them the gravy ia whieh either beef steaks, real cutlets or matton chaps were cooked.or butter may be used; bat be sa're to fry briskly until the slices are a light brown on both sides; have yoar bread toasted, buttered or dipped, as you prefer, aad close at band; slip the? slices of cucumber hot from the paa be tween slices of toast, aad serve at once. Any one following these directions im plicitly, will find cucumber toast really good to eat. American Farmer. Scrambled Eogs. Beat up a' few eggs with a little salt, turn them in'o a" pan which has in it a little melted baiter, stir them aatil thickened, and tarn them out into' a' hot dish; Ccstabd Pis. Take eight eggs. with on tea capful of sugar; aad beat Well together; stir this into foar quarts of good, sweet milk; pour into tan or plates, aad bake slowly. Rick Buns. Take one-quarter of a' pound of loaf sugar and beat well with two eggs; then add a qaarter of a poaad of ground rice, and favor with any esseace preferred; bake ia' drop tins.- . Muffins. One qnar". of milk, thru eggs, one captui ot melted builer, five table-spoonfuls of yeasi.one tea-spoeafal of saleratus, stir ia flour antil it is a thick batter; 10 te baked on a griddle. Vert Nice Tart. Boil apples aa yoa would for puffs; and boil also aa equal quantity of pumpkin, and mash them well together; add a few currents, aad sugar and nutmeg to taste; bake with a light crust top and Bottom; the pumpkin must be strained as dry as possible.' Scrambled Eggs witb Bread. Aa equally nice dish may be made with half the quantity of eggs, by cutting ap some slices of bread into pieces an inch' square, pulling them into the frying pan' with the butter.aBd letting them brown; then turn tha egg in and stir aH up together. Puff Past. The art of making puff paste consists in keeping the.dough film and cool, at the same time that it is thor oughly kneaded; if it become, at all warm and sticky, it will never be light; it should be skillfully handled, and made in a cool place; also baked in a moderately quick oven. Spiced Hash. Take tbe remnaats' of a cold steak, or any 01 ber triad of roast or boiled meat; hash them fine, aad mix with potatoes well mashed, and add one or two beaten eggs; season to' your liking, witb salt, pepper,- nutmeg or mace, and cloves ; make into a loaf. and bake brown; it is good eaten hot or cold.- To Mask Farrr Cask. Take eight eggs, two capful of butter, five of' su gaf.tea of flour, foar natmegs.one table spoonful of ground clove, two tea-' spoonfuls of saleratus, three poaads of raisin 1, artdOne pint of milk; mix the' butter aad sngar together first, then mix all the other articles with them, and make into loaves and bake slowly from one to' two.' hears, according to the sine' of the loaves. The above with less raisiaa makes as xeallatet sake. Whew desirsd to make it very rieh, add to tbe above, cilrew aad csvraats to sail the taste.- -. .