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r A"t : I 1 i 1. fe?11 J. W. ROBERTS, DebofeS -fo figicijliq ecfaifics, fttfiV iKetos, Serci Xiiehtf pc. Editor aid Prpriettr. - r t ji t VOLUME IV, NUMBER 51. OSKALOOSA, KANSAS AUGUST 20, 1864. WIIOLE NUMBER. 207. nf- J , mi llie Independent teto. THE AMKUICAX FLAG. When Freedom, from her mountain bight. Unfurled her standard to the air, the tore the azure robe of night, And tet the stars of glory there ; She mingled with Its gorgeous djes The milky baldric of the tfcies, And strircd Its pore, celestial white, 'With (treating of t!io monilcg light : Then from hit mansion in tbe un. She cilled her eagle bearer down, And gate into his mighty hand TUe sjnibtd of her choen land. Majestic monarch of the cloud, V.'ho resr'st aloft thy regel form , To hear the tempest tramplngs loud, And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm. .And rolls the thunder drum of heaven ; Child of the t'4u! to thee 'lis given lo guard the banner of the free, Tohover in the suljihur-smoie, To ward away the battle-stro.e. And bid it Mendings thine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbingers of victory! "Flag or the brae! thy folds shall fiy, The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on. Ere j et the life-blooJ, warm and wet, Hjs dimmed tbo gli-tonrog bayonet, Each soldier tjc shall brightly turn To where thy sky-born glares burn ; And as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeaecs from the glance. And when tho cannon-mouthing loud ileal c in wild ureaths the battre-shroud, And gory sabres ris and fall, Like shoots of Same on midnight's pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. Flag of the seas 5 on ocean wave Thy stare shall glitter o'er tlie bra e ; When death, careering on the gale, Pweej-s darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back, llefore the broudsUcfc' reding rack, Eavh djing wanderer of tho sea Shall look at onco to Heaven and thec, And smile to see thy splendors fly Jn triumph o'er his dosing eje. Flag of the free he ait's hope and home ! Lj angd hands to i al r gii en ; The stars huo lit the welkin dome, And all th hues were born in beaten. FoEtVER rLO.T THAT STAKD4SD inlET 5 Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's sell bsneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us. LOST LOVES. BT MliS. CELESTIA E. CCUtr. "This truth comes home with bier and pall; 1 felt It when I sorrowed most 'lis beuerto have loved and lost, Than never to hate loved at all.' 7Vanya. I had watched him dny by day, when that terrible fever was doing its work upon him; had seen the rose fade from cheek and lip, the light from his eye, and the loving smile die cut under the fierce hand of ptin; had seen his plead ing eyes follow mine, mutely asking the relief I was powerless to bestow;, had seen his whole frame convulsed with agony, when not a murmur escaped his lips; had seen him struggle and writhe in the i;y embrace of death's dat k angel; and then, whoa all was over, and peace immortal settled upon his marble brow, and the old loving smile came back to his pallid lips, and a halo of heavenly light seemed fo illumine every feature, as the" last breath fluttered feebly up, my heart cried out in its agony, "Oh, that he had never been born ! that my eyes had never been gladdened by his smile, or my life beautified by his pres ence! Why did he come and entwine e.?erj fibre of my heart around his young life, only to vanish like some tision of brightness, and leave earth so dark, so roid( so blank, by bi heaven ward flight?" But soft and low as an angel's whis per, a voice came up from the depths pf my toul, silently breathing, "Til hiltcr tt cc lecci and Uit, Than never to hare loved at sit." And, while bending -over that lifeless clay, still warm with the remembrance of 'its vanished life, slowly, sadly, I re peated over and over to myself, '"Til better to hare loved and lost. Than nerer to have loved at all. 1 knew not then what anguised heart had given utterance to this sweet com forting, nor from whence ;t had floated into my spirit with its soothing power, at a tine when all words of consolation were but sharp icicles upon a torn and bleeding heart; but instantly, twin-born with this first great eortQW, side by side with the wail of anguish, went up the 'cry of thankfulness, "Father of spirits, for his brief and beautiful life, I thank tbe; for the love which has been to my otd a new revelation a new life Caching all things earthly with the glory of heaven, wilh a glory thai death JelvTicii PbM. cannot quench, and the grave cannot eclipse; for this love, tills revelation, this life, which cannot die cannot be lost, I thank thee." And niemory.fjike a good angel, wen1 backward through the flowery avenue of his three bright years, gathering up with loing hand all the opening buds of hope and joy all the new and beau tiful soul-flowers that blossomed into life, twin-born wilh his birth: that gar-1 nered up new lints, new fragrance, as the hours touched his fair brow and deep eyes with new loveliness; and she came back smiling through her teats, j and I knew the garland she had twined) for me was fadeless and immortal as the flowers of Paradise; and I said, Tbou art not dead, tho a art not gone to dust; No line of ail thy loveliness shall fall To formless ruin.'" No, r "Xot dead, not sleeping, not oven gone, But present still;" For Memory mirrors all thy perfections, embalms all thy sweetness, and Faith lifts the veil; and I see thee still, and know the golden chain of loto lhat bound our souls in one, is yet unbroken and blight, that not a link can be tar nished by sin nor weakened by time; that unto thoe is the joy, the gladness, the peace of Heaven; unto me is tho toil, the care, the sorrows of earth for aw hile; but that again thy loving hand shall clasp my own, snd again we shall roam together but the flowers thou wilt twine for my brow, will be fadeless as the bowers above. Years have bloomed aud faded since I culled the firct violets from thy tomb violets whose hue was borrowed from the blue of thy eyes; and I could fancy there was a look of recognition enmo up from their azure depths, as my soul searched them for a token from thec, whose dust had given them life; and I could nhiiost give credence to the beau tiful fables that tells us how tho souls of the loved and lost may come back to us, clothed in the mysterious loveliness of a flower, may hold communion with us through their fragrance and beauty, and fancied that tho deep meaning of their presence, that sometimes, and in some moods of the mind, so thrills us with unaccountable power, is indeed an effluence of Divinity a something that links our spirits with the loved the invisible. Seven springs have embroidered thy crave wilh their sweet prophecy of flowers, annually writing above thy dusi, in the alphabet of angels, the sublime declaration, "1 am the resurrection and the life;" and as many uiiiteis have lovingly folded thy head-stone with the pure drapery of snow, typical of the changeless purity that folds thee as a garment in its everlasting embrace. And through all the changes the years have brought me,-a Presence, clothed in light and fluttering on pinions of love, has been my viewless companion. I have fell its influence in the solemn stillness of the midswhiraer night, when my restless spirit kept silent vigil with the starry host, and claimed kindred with the skies. I hate tin filed through every nerve of my being under the same sweet power, at dewy morning, when all the air was tremulous with song, and all the sky aflame wilh the coming day; aud at twilight, when the angel ot repose drooped her downy pinions oyer the throbbing temples of Care, soothing them to rest, and nature sung her own lullaby. I have felt a soft, caressing touch upon my brow, and knew that not alono were the "dewy fingers of the wind" playing with my hair, lifting it with gentle, loving touch, back from my forehead; and I felt, or fancied Tfelt, a warm breath upon my cheek, and soft, rosy lips were pressed close lo my car, with their old whisper, half playful, yet ever thrilling me to tears, even whoa I heard it twenty times a day, but now coming so distinctly back to my spirit when those lips are dust; it gathers a deeper meaning, and thrills me with strange power, as I hear again and again the playful tones, lisping in sweet in fantile accents : "Mother, I love you when you are dood; when you naughty, I donl;" and then I clasp my arms as if to enfold the laving form, hut grasp only air. And yet not in vain, are these dear illusions, if they ball illusions, which only love makes possiblelheto faint, half-heard echoos from those who have passed on before us, but whoso souls were bound to our own by imperishable ties AJI the sweet rem.embran.ee of' their beautiful lives lingers wilh us a living poem on the air of home, whose melody the silent stars whisper, and the young leaves thrill, and the wandering breezes chant to each oilier, till all na ture is gifted with a new voice to vocal ize thtt ever-living love that death Ims made changeless and immortal. Ever enduring, and ever pure is the influence of this love, whose mortal form alone is lost to us i&nWwMfiM. A POOR DELICATE CREATURE. Suppose we go to Lady Ounter's ball. Do you see that beautiful girl, spinning round in the waltz wilh that Austrian attache the crystallized foreigner, now opposite to you, who U such a revolving pillar of diamonds ? Yes, we see the lovelv blonJe if vou mean her with tho bue arms and naked shoulders; a costum which, by courtesy, is called full dress. What a rate she is going at 1 Precisely; the Times'1 steam-engine is, in quickness, it slow-coach compared to her ! She makes more revolutions in one minute thau the French havo made in all their lives; and, if you notico.she bhows no symptoms of fatigue. She will keep up that same speed for hours, and the moment she ceases she is ready to begin again. She is indefati gable; no wheel in a cotton-factory could spiu around quicker, or wurkJbr so many hours with less appareul fati gue. But she is going out on tho balcony; why, she will catch her death of cold ! No; she is accustomed lo it. A sailor walking tho deck wouldn't trouble himself less about colds than she does. All atmospheres are the same to her. She is no fragile hot house plant, but a hardy annual that will bloom anvwhere up the chimney. if you please, or down in the cellar, or by the side of the kitchen lire, or at the bottom of the well the small qu--tion of temperature doesn't make much difference lo a constitution so well sea soned as hers. But does she tike no nourishment to keep up ihts extraordi nary fatigue ? Yis: ices plenty of ices and biscuits atie! occasionally with a jelly, and, perhaps, Lite m the cvenintr, tho tiniest wing of a chicken with a little lobster sause, or a plover's egg. or a bit of blanc-ruange.the whJe of it washed down with not more than half a glass of champagne. But I l.aelimw. and bumUawa, in lBlo, during seen her eat a verv good supper- ' ' st r"'e eruption on record, supper uorlhy of a 'guardsman in Ue nt i" wlies s far as Java, a distance -but il has been very late, wheu ;. c ' 3u0 ,n,It's of surface, and out of a were very few persons in tho roon v . she has had a pleasant companioii.wln made her laugh, and kepi continual! filling her gla$e. And after that ? Why after lhat sho goes tip htair again, and dances more ineesan-y than ever. Site is insatiable for dan.-iii,,'. To look at her, you would think a Tarantula had bitten her. and thnt h- couldn't keep still for the fraction of a minute. The wonder is i ow one pair of satin shoes lasts her through ihe sain evoning. You would imagine with her rapidity. ana it is as mucti as your eyes can uo U follow her that she would wear out half a dozen pairs at least. And how long does she keep it up 7 Why, long as she can till four or five o'clock in the morning till the musicians have nearly played themselves fast asleep until alio hasn't a partner left to dance with and' then, loath to lesvc, she ones unwillinsilv home to beein- the same dance the following evoning How often does this occur? Why, four or five, and sometimes six times a week; and frequently there are two or three balls on the s'arao evening, and sho goes to every one of them, and this mind you, after she has been to a concert, or matinee, or a pic uic. per haps, in the daytime. What, only ihiuk of the exercise 1 Well, that is something to be sure and if ihe cal culations could bo made, it is probable il would bo ascertained, by llie most generous cabman's measure, that that young lady does not dance less than twenty miles in the course of an even ing and that is only allowing at the rafe of four miles an hour which you will acknowledge is absurdly moderate f..r Imman waltaluL'. Multiply this by six, and you will have the sum total of 120 miles danced hy a young laity m tho period of ono week ! And this, recollect, is independent of fetet, fancy fairs, flower shows, and other amuse ments that demand same degree of oxerciso durintr ihe day. And now, do you know who thi young lady is who dances her 120 miles a week ? Who is it who goes through an amount of labor only to be equalled by the poor fellows who wnik their thousand miles in their thousand houis? You will never guess and so I do not mind telling you. Sho is tho same youug lady whom we saw stretched out at full length on tho sofa, who looked so weak lhat &he would have fainted if any one had asked her to walk across the street; who. was so nervous, lhat hhe could not bear the slightest noise, or endure the smallest Lev-hole of fresh air; who was so w begone that she could not talk, laugh, or open her eyes, nor touch a single thing; so helpless that she could not have moved off her couch by herself, not even if the house had bten in fl'ime; who looked, in fact, such a lackadaisical bundle of shawls and prostration, that you must have doubted in your own mind whether she could ever stand upright again on her two tegs. Yes, sir, that young lady, whose prowess you have been wondering at this evening, is that same Poor Deli cate Creature, and allow me to say, sir, (concluded the Doctor, as lie gave us a cigar to walk home with), that in the way of fatigue there are very few men 1 was nearly saying prize-fighters who can stand half to much as your Poor Delicate Creature ! Punch's Pocket Book. What a Volcano Can Do. Cotopaxi, in 1738, threw its firy rock ets 3,000 feet above its crater, while in 1744 the blazing mass, struggling for an outlet, roared so that its awful voice was heard a distance of more than GOO miles. In 1797 tho crater of lungur agua, ono of the great peaks of the An des, flung out torrents of mud, which dammed up rivers, opened new lakes, and in valleys of a thousand feet wide made deposits 600 feel deep. The stream from Vesuvius, which in 1737 passed through Torre del Greco, contained 33,600,000 cubic feet of solid matter ; and in 1794, when Torre del Greco was destroyed a second time, the mass of lava amounted to 45,000,000 cubic feet. Iu 1679, Etna poured forth a flood which covered 84 square miles of turface, and measured nearly 100, 000,000 cubic feet. On this occasion the sand and scoriae formed llie Monte Rosi, near Nicoliai, a cone two miles iu circumference, and 4,000 feet high. The stream thrown out by Etna in 1810 was in motion at the rate of a yard per day for nine months after the erup tion ; and it is on record thai In van of the same mountain, after a terrible erup lion, were not thoroughly cooled and consolidated ion years after the event. In the eruption of Vesuvius, A. D. 79, tho scoria: and ashes vomited forth fur exceeded the entire bulk of the moun tain, while in 1G60, Elua disgorged more than twenty times its own m iss. Vesuvius has thrown its ashes as far as Con?t antinople, Syria, ami Egypt ; it hurled atones tight pounds in weight lo Pompeii, a distance of six mile, while similar masses were tossed 2,000 feet above its summit. Cutopax. hi3 projected a block of 109 C"D,U Jnrs In voiume aumuu.ee oi mn ppu"iu" "' ', "" "'J "-'j (.tcxpeu. Lo, these ar a part of His ways, but the thunder of His power, who can un dei stand?' Fall of an Avalanche. 7t3!o wo chatted over the dinner, wondeiing how many strawberries go for a spoonful, a terrible roarshi.kes the cabin. Upsprings every man shouting: 'avalanche 1 avalanche 1 and out we go into the 4 pen air. And there, right op posite, coining dwn the Jungfrau, is a most stupendous nitos of-ice and snow, dashing fiom one precipice to another, until beaten and crushed itito powder, il rushes in one mighty 'Niagara' of snow itito the valley. Tho fall of that avalanche Lasts two minutes by the watch Its rorfr would drown Ihe loudest trop ical thunder. At fiist il ia break and a crash ; then, like the tramp of mill ions of buffaloes on the prairie ; nnd then, at last, like a thousand blasts or.men render themselves public laughing artillery. Though ihe avalanche is two miles on, somo oi us man uw s " wo feared thnt "the descending mass would leip over the intervening cham and burst in upon- us. But it is only loir not ruin. This vast muss of snow and ice pre cipitated itself, fortunately, into a rav ine that was perfectly uninhabitable, But not so with somo others. Some times whole forests are swept away; and the stumps of ihe broken trees, after ihe ruin has passed, stand up, like the stubblo upon a prairie wheat-field after a reaner has cone over it. Rev. T. S. -i. .ir -t .. ... i i. - :r Cuyler. Verbal Vices. Indulgence in rerb nl vice toon encourages corresponding vices in conduct. Let any one talk a bout a mean or vile practice with a fa miliar tone, and when tho opportunity occurs for committing the raear or vile net. will he be as strong agains itas be fore ? It is by no meaus an unknown thing lhat meu of correct lives talk them selves info crime, into sensuality, into peidition. Bad language easily runs into bad deeds. Select any iniquity you please ; suffer yourself lo converse in its dialect, lo use ilsklang, to speak iu the character of one who approves or relishes it, and I need not tell you how soon your moral sense will lower down to. its level. Becoming intimate wilh it, you lose the horror of it. The obvious principle, of itself, furnishes a reasoa for watching the tongue. I. D. m;i tinglon, D. D. Iron that come tax. enters into the ole In- Tribute to Calico. A young chap who seems to havo an eye to the useful, goes off in the follow ing poetic parallel, which, after all. has quite as much truth as fancy in it : ' Calico dresses are a grand institution. Delaines, silks and satins nre good en ough in their place in parlor or bind box ; bat after nil the old 'stand by,' the substantial, is the shilling calico. Care must be taken uot to soil the silk, noth ing must come in contact with the nice dres3 that will rumple or stain it; but tho calico, that's made for work, and, as poets say, 'nobly does is fulfill its mis sion.' Silk rarely finds its way into the realities of lifo ; that is, into the kitch en at home, or into the hut of suffering abroad. But calico oh. what rich meals we gel by it ! how it cheers the suffering, as I'm its bright colors and cheerful presence it stands with soft hand minis tering to our distresses. Calico seems to be always more wil ling and ready to give to want than silk. It is a curious fact of our nature, that the nicer the quality of our dross, the harder our hearts become, as if when dressed in silk we changed our natures and rose above such btse. worldly things as human sympathy. What 1 our silk dress be seen near enough to that poor woman to give her assistance or drab ble into the abode of poverty and want ? Mo, never I Calico might do it, but silk, oh, iss out of the question impossible. But when, in addition lo all, calico comes in rosy from the kitchen duties v.'Lu.li it knows how lo do so well, and loves to do for tho ploasure they afford, and sits down at the pinno or melodeon, and makes liquid melody flow sweetly forth, blending its own voice with the rich music, then we appreciat Calico, Ycb, but for all this, young friend, nine young men out of ten seeking a life in'eresi in these matters, will tiLe the sk and leave the calico. Effects of Alcohol os the Mokals. Alcohol kindles friendship. Hence, the custom nf treating. r.$ nndlv to ken. But it equally Jnflimeo eumbat ivencss Hence, drinkers are the great est friends one minute, but bitterest en emies the iwxt. lining off ach others' tingurs and uote-,nnd bunging out each others ijes, et mke up over another 1. -x.'i es parental love, and makes the half-botoy father pet and laud his dailing boy to tlis'skius one minute, but (he next, curse aud beat him almost or quite- to death. All because it sots all the propensities into a perfect whirl wind of depraved fury, utigoverned by intellect and morality. It preternaitir ally excites cnutiousnes.and thus causes deiiiium tremens, that raoit- horrid of all horror, with all its frightful surmis ngs and lenific hobgoblins. It pro vokes appetite to crave more than nature needs, only to rediscase; for nearly all over-eat without it. It incites to gambling another ani mal indulgence. Who ever saw gamb lioir without liquor ? And whoever sells liquors will furuUh gambling facil ities. If our State Legislatures will but prohibit liquor-belling, they ned pass no laws against gamUing. And what arrives first at race-course on race-days but barrels on banels of grog, without which tha horses would not run.because none would be fools or sinners enough lo run them ! Stimulants make approbativencss swell nnd swagger; but always over somo low exploit. Intoxicated men in variably brag lusuly. yet never about anything good, but always over some thing brutalizing that their dog can whip every other, or they "lick any man in town. All uriiiKing younj stocks; "cullin'i a swell." to their own lisgrace, but the infinite merriment of their rivals. Drinkimr causes swearinir- What in man swears? Never the noble, good, or great, but always thcranimal aud de based. Hearintr one highly esteemed for talents or virtues swear, nl once sinks him lo the level of a blackgimd, which in fact he is. All inebriates curso and blaspheme. All drinking-resorts are places for profane swearing. Shut them, nnd ihe voice of cursing will soon die away. Moral fathers, dots not tol crating them place temptation oetore your innocent sons, which a prohibi'orv law would effectually roniove ? O. S. Fowler, C'llILDHOOO AMD THE MoTBXR. 1 ""l the mi ml of childhood the tenderest, holiest thinir this side of Heaven ? Is it not to be approached wilh gentleness. wilh love yes, Willi n iieart-worsnrp oi iho great God, from whom, m almost angel innocence, it has proceeded ? A creature undefiled by the taint of ihe world unvexed by its iniustlce uu- woaried liv its hollow Dieasures. A be- iti! fresh from the source of light, with something of its universal lustre in it? If childhood be this, how holy he duiy to seo that, in its onward growth, il shall be no fiber ! to Htand as a wateuei at the temple, lest any unclean thing sho'd eniei it. Great events may be traced back to great thoughts, which stand to ihem in the same relation as obscure progenitors to illustrious descendants. v Welcome. Papa will soon be here,' said mamma to her three years old boy, 'What can Georgy do to welcome him?' And ihe mother glanced at the child's playthings which lay scattered in wild confusion on the carpet, 'Make the room neat,' replied the bright little one.understanding the look, and at once beginning to gather hU toys into a basket. 'What more can we do to welcome papa?' asked mamma, when nothing was wanting to the neatness or the room. 'Be happy to him when he comes!' cried the dear little fellow, jumping up and down with eagerness, 3 ho watched at tho window for his father's coming. Now as all the dictionary makers will testify it is very hard to cive nood definitions; but did not little Gsoruey give the very substance of a welcome? Be happy to him when he comes Small Acts asd Large Results. Yesterday, passing a little cottage by the wayside, I perceived at the door the carcass of a very large pig extended on a table. Approashingas is my wont, the tenant of the cottage and owner of tho pig, I began to converse with him on (lie size and fatness of the poor crea ture which had that morning quilted its sty forever. It had been shot, he told me; for such, in these parts, is at present the roost approved way of secur ing for swine an end as little painful as may be. I admired the huraaniiy of the intention, and hoped that it might be crowned with success. Then my friend, the proprietor of the bacon, be gan to discourse on the philosophy- of the rearing of pigs by laboring men. No doubt, he siid, the 400 pounds, or thereabout, which he would get for his pig would be a great help to a hard working man with five or six little chil dren. But, after nil, he remarked, it was likely enough that during the months of the pig's life, il had bit by bil consumed and cost him as much as he would gel for it now. "B it then," he went on, "it cost that in little mms we hardly felt; while the 400 pounds il will sell for come all in n lump, and seem to give a very perceptible profit." Successive unfelt sixpences had mount ed up to that considerable sum; even as five hundred little unfelt mental efforts diad mounted r. ,. !.., !. .UJ.,1 ft !;. ,f .. ,r'laid unfolded in her drawers, and her sortin: nnd me i - , i - r i i. crude tacts and opinions of which we LClMVUI4.fU, IMC UilU3 Ul wen thinking a little while ago. tie creations of a Country Parson. LlVLSG A5D DtlNO. -The late Rev. Dr. Newton was once speaking of a young lady who had recently died. A young lady immediately asked: "Oh, sir, how did she die ?" The venerable man replied: There is a more inipor- tant question th;m thai, my dear, which vou should have asked first." Sir," said she, important "what question can bemore(rojeats were never properly cared for than 'how did she die V " ,aftrr dinner and then it was "Lai oir did she live ' he replied gwm ami gxniMioli Suffolks and Chester White. In the Farmer of Jan, 5th, the ques tion -is asked : "Which is the better breed of hogs, the Suffolk or the Chester v..:. 9-. m ....,; ..;.!. ,iia. , breed of White ? breeds extends back only three years. , i ii. t . .i,v c il i .i the second day, because they were half now fullv convinced of thei , . J .J. . r .i i.. i . Imado; her preserves soured ihe seconc? r of the latter. I raise both, ' .' . r . , . .. yet I am superiority th otijih neither extensively, and they all P . , . ,- , . J ceive like care and feed; as to mv ..,.,, , , iginal stock, there was no advantage rcceiv original ... -, H i ,.- unoii either side.all my purchases being ' , , I- ui r u . - made Trom reliable men. My nrs: pair e r, ,r i, , - i . . , of Suffolks was shipped to me by (Jen. t c f c o -ii r "r i J. S. Oje, of Brownsville, Pa. I have ii ii i - .- .1 r I her arms forded, hud three small shipments ot the Lues- , . , , ., . . ,,,r . ri t rni 1 Soved to nave ter Whites from Chester Co.,. Pa. The', . , .. experience oi i nose who nave ueeu 1011- .... ., . ,., t i .. i ! et 111 lllo UUSllie&s is fiiin mum muu . .i. i : :. .1. .1 lo.. II. : I ,.;i a . umuer u mie.s. u-- . -. animals)! Ihe lime intervening, so that lcoud compare bleed, at different ages, and have failed of both kinds ihe, fneuds of the Suffolks claim for them. first, that tiey are more easily fattened; i -..:.- i:.. .i.:..i ,.i : ' SCCOUO, mature canter, luuu, e..v., .., gentleness of disposition. As for tl.e !! .I..t no yiwnntlunou IlOD Kuun tllftf I urs. ciiuu., .J ,:.. y.. .-.. t ho same Hmouni oi iuou given- iu :r uuesur anu a ouuun, iu piuu- -.. . 1- k?..Tlt- III 1 more po poiK in me lurmei, c .u .... . i .1.- t. ... i... ...:n ..:.. f.uter in tlosh.- Wl.nn tf.t.l tnuelur. .. ...... ,-. ----- '.' and receiving the same Httentio Chesters have always been quite as fat as their rivals ta pig notoriety. Per haps during the summer months tliey consunied more grass.as they eat largely of it. but in winter they had not this advantage. And were il granted that more feed is requiredTy them thau by the Suffolks, is that an objection when the iacrense of pork is considered ? Shorthorns are generally considered the best breed of cattle; much of their fu periority consists m their great size, and m otiog goou leeuers.ianening in suort- j nM M. lti, niA,t ntlterc itltt ltlll! But cattle .. .-..- - are raised for other purposes than beef, CI blilite UKtlt MIIMI Wl.l.tf ai.d Shorthorns do not rank litghcsl eilher for milk or for the yoke; yet their superior qualities for beef have brought them into almost universal favor. Swine ate raised oily for pork. The niMo... u. .u,,,, seemcd Qorre . Chester Whites have invariably put on more flesh under my care, in the same lime. Now, if we cau get more pork. and of nearly, if not,s I think, quite as good quality, from the same amount of food, is not that the breed which all. and especially farmers, should raise? Far mers in this neighborhood appreciate the fattening qualities of the Cheaters; and I have known them, when buying pigs for their pens, to make particular " inquiry for half-blood Cheaters. To-day there is a greater demand for this-breetl and its grades, than for any other. As for early nutuii'.y, I suppose it is true; that the Su If oiks attain their growth sooner, but at all ages the Chester is easily fattened. What, then, is gained by tbe raiser of Suffolk ? One year ago, I killed a pig eleven months old. that dressed over tour hundred pounds. For the first tix months, his feed was that of the "running lot;" and at any time during the last four months, he was fit for the knife; a sight of him when dressed would almost make a Jew wish he were a Jew no longer, But ihe "Suffolks are of a quiet, gentle disposi tion," so are the Chester; they are none of your lon-legged, lank-sided, long nosed, "wood breeds" that are content only when moving; and although Clus ters aro not wholly free from the hoggtsk ness common to all hogs, 1 have always found them quiet enough, and gentle enough, too. The females are excellent mothers; are good sucklers, quite prolific, aBd their young are very hardy. I now have a Suffolk sow that has pigs three weeks old, and a Chester sow with a Unerased one week. Toklay, Jaa. 12th. the young Chesters are having a regular play spell in their pen, but tbe Suffolk, with good shelter, are huddled together; shivering with the cold. J. Kirkpat rick, Sen., in Ohio lamer, Tke Half Hsutkeefer. She was only a half housekeeper. Go where you would about her home, there was neither taste nor neatness. She would begin things with great avidity, but lose all her zeal before she got through. Of her husband's half dozen new shirt, all were partially finished. One wanLjd sleeves, another a collar and wristbands, another a bo som and gussets and so on through MlUD """ uc.ciai EI i.i. i: several skeletons of aunts. iiaoies nnu irun&s were juaueu wim . ., m tl-1 t Her bread was always unpalatable, because she forgot this or that and though she had been married ten year?. in an mat time me laote was never ir;.,ilti. - laid for a meal. Either fiw slt l ,vas Wi.niinr. a knife or sooon. or soma .important ingredient. This afforded g00j exercise for Ihe family, and there HftS at all limes a continued running u and fro j She-was a half hnusalepner. T?r throw it away-it ain't much," Much I or little.it made the butc jer's bill enor . rnous, and her husband half distracted. There always stood about her room dozen garmeuts worn out by traraplisg rather than ase. She was for ever trip- . ping over btooms for ever wondering ! why on earth wotk came so hard to her I for ever running up stairs for some- thing which she had left down cellar. "r "-' '" """" cc'"" "" " u"w a,,c uau thrown in the garret. ' Her children's clothes came in pieces , . . J , J - , done, aud her temper soured quicker . ... . r . .. than am thing else ' was contm- , . - . . . . . , tuuny i.iuienuuii nun &uu v.ei uiitrrieu. ,-' . . , . . . . and wondering wlieie folks :ot their . , rl , c. f , knack of housework, o he loved t& . r . ,,. . . . . cwar a corner for fierseit, aad sit with . rut ci i. i . e some new scheme on uanu, lot men hand, for then she was furious till il t , , , - , ... 'was besiun. always losing her enthft- j . t .1 - iT -. ? H siiisuj nu mv uiafc ant... Oh. dear tho whole f fa vooabu, and ;t mould f movmenU anj ,iaar her declare that worted sQ Lu(, as ,., wM , fof s)e ba MO , , nietnou. R. .-:,., ,,-, iriilutut r "w r --..-r-.v - - au apuK'y on iiei iihuc, :iiiu iietcr .eal Uwln jown lQ a decent table, abe .i i through life and worried fear, like I""".v- - --. , .. -,- m,.; i i Miuu".i inn"., . n.i.v... . -, . . . . .,. "-"-J ....". . J '. i pared; und left six daughters lo folloi u. i'"-"; i .i r,i ., m. Her ejknuiutc mm cukc m .. i. . . six more miserable half housekeepers. Awle Pie. Pare, core and qutrter the apples; boil the cores and parings nv sugar aitd water; strain off the liquor, adding more sugar; grate ihe rind of a lemon over' the apples, and sqaet-ae the juice into the syrup; mix, hall a doien cloves wilh the fruit, put in a piece of butter the size of a walnut, and coyer with puff paste. A Vert Good Cake. Four cups of ' flour? nno rim nf hutrer- nn do of milk: . - f 9 - " 'onedoof sagar;onedoof tnobsses, three 'eggs, well beaten; one teaspoonful sal- eratus; three ottuces of currents, and pure cineamoa lo iivor it. Work it together like pound cake, and bike one hour awl a half. m J i .y rspr8- :-i "-..