Y P O S T
TIE? SJUt
66
it .
For tha Southern "WwUjr Port.
E3IG21A.V ,--a5
I'm ea in the sky but not m the moon.
I'm seen in the sun but not in the noon.
I'm seen in the spooiTbut not in the knife.
I'm. in the husband but not in the wife.
Ym in the stool but not in the chair.
I'm in your nose but not in your hair.
I'm in the stove but not in the fire.
I'm in the story but not in the liar.
I'm in the house bat not in the door.
I'm in the glass but not in theHoor.
I'm in the stitches but not in the thread,
I'm in the sheet but not in the bed.
I'm in the fingers but not in the hand.
And now kind reader guess me if you can.
-I lf.r H. M. G.
MISCELLANEOUS.
;. For the Southern Weekly Post. ;
A MEMORY.
pedtcatea w si. jj. o , vj
. mont, Virginia.
"Tow they come like pleasant dreams.
Tha vanished as they shone,
. "As fairy barka on fairy streams,
. Or flowers whose hue is flown." -
How swiftly the years have passed on times
resistless wings since the writer had a home
where the beautiful Ohio river rolls with grace-1
ful curve around a Southern point covered with
' tne nooie vaiiim uu v j
. 'It 117-1 . A Ant WTAO lllAff kdUA
gone vu nuica ""g") .( ....... j
pleasant incidents; and friends away ,! still mem
ory may recall and will. It-appears that rivers,
such as the Ohio is in beauty are only found in
lands of romance and song on other Continents,
and doubtlefcS in time thelovely stream,
"Whose clear still waters steal the hue,
Of skies that there have deepest blue :"
will demand that attention from genius which
0'r and o'er the writer in bo v hood's years of
freedom, gazed at its various points of loveliness
as he wandered with his rifle and trusty dog on
its banks. William Wirt, in his celebrated
speech in the Burr's case, made the Island, oc
cupied by Bluinerhasset, classic, and in describ-1
ing the flowers and U-auty of the Isle, he car-;
ried the mind back to Eden, j '
JUOUg JKUIa VT 111 LJf, CIO CIIUE1 LUG STCGlU
or the location will be forgotten.
Four hundred miles down the river there is
a scene far lovelier than that of Blannerhasset's
isiana, lnimoriauzeu uy tue uun oi nu xui
it is not the scene that memorv so specially re
calls as one who was once the fairest flower that
blossomed there. I -
Reader, have you ever met a sweet girl of
seventeen or eighteen- summers with a form
" ii i.-l. j i:Li r..i i.
sion of hazel colored eyes showing intellect, pen
sive sentiment, and purity fit for heaven i Like
ly. Still tho', those of ardent imagination rare
ly ot u. ub- aaain .frr carting with such an
one as exists in memory to night. Every per
son yearns for affection in a greater or smaller
degree in an elevated or low sense,! according
to the force of natural and cultivated organiza
tion, still all do not in the sober, dulj, real walks
of earth always meet such as they love or could
hive loved.
7 But the one recalled to, night is gone where
flow'rets fade not," and the heart is never seared
by the ills of life.- . ;
The spring month of May, with its many col
ored leaves and flowers is of all seasons the love
liest to die in, and in that mouth she passed
. away. ''
The reflection, tho' is ever present when she
. is brought to mind tfet 'Death ha set the
seal of eternity, and the beautiful has been made
permanent."
Chapel Hill, N. C, March, 1854. I
I THE BEAUTIFUL MANIAC.
The fire that on hi bosom preys,!
Is lone as some volcanic Isle,
No torch is kindled at its blaze ;
A funeral pile !" j
J i
Inkho morning train fromj Petersburg, tb ere
was a lady closely veiled,
in
the same car with
ourselves.- She was dressed in the purest white,
wore gold bracelets, andi evidently belonged to
the higher cjrcles of society.! Her figure was
delicate, but well developed, aud exquisitely
symmetrical; and when she j occasionally drew
aside her richly embroidered veil, the glimpse, of
the featurek which the - beholder obtained, satis
fied him of her extreme loveliness. Beside her
at a gentleman in deep mourning, who watch
ad! over her with unusual solicitude, and several
times when -she. attempted to lise, be excited
the curiosity of all the passengers by detaining
her in her seat. ,
' Outside the cars all was confusion, passengers
looking to baggage, porters running, cabmen
cursing, and all the mual hurry and buttle at
tending the departure of a train. One shrill
warning whistle from the huge engine, at.d we
moved slowly away. ' '
At the first motion of the ,car, the lady in
white started to her feet with one heartrending 1
cream, and her bonnet falling off, disclosed the
most" lovely features we ever contemplated. Her
raven tresses fell over her shoulders in graceful
disorder, and clasping her hands in prayer, she
turned her dark eyes to heaven 1 What agony
was in that look ! What beauty, too, what
heavenly beauty, had not so much of misery
been stamped upon it. Alas, that glance told a
melancholy tale.
, " : : she was changed . " ;
As by the sickness of a soul ; her mind
Had wandered from its dwelling, and her eyes
They had not their own lustre, but the look
Which is not of the earth, she was become
' The queen of a fantastic realm ; her thoughts,
. -., Were combinations of disjointed things,
! And forms, impalpable and unperceired
jOf others' sight, familiar . were to her.
!.' ." i l I !: .
1 1 tier brother, the gentleman in black, was un
remitting in hi3 efforts to soothe her spirit.-
jffi her back to her seat ; but her hair was
still unbound, and her! beauty unveiled. ; The
cars rattled on, and the passengers, in groups,
resumed he conversation. Suddenly, a wild
mJoiy arose, it was the beautiful maniac's
voice, rich, , full, and ini noil able. Jler hands
were crossed on her bosom, and she waved lir
bodj. as she sung with touching pathi
a8he it far from the land where her young fterb sleeps,
And liAejcs are round her sighing,
But coldly she turns from their gaze, mi wtep,
for her heart la hia grave it lying.
: She sing the Wild aongs of her der natire plains, 1,.
Every note which he loved awaking : ? ;
h Ah, Kttle they think, who delight in her strains,
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking. ' ' -
.' r - . . ' . ,
Her brother was unmanned, and he wept as
only manpn weep. " The air changed, and she
continued
Has sorrow thy young days shaded
As clouds o'er the morning fleet !
Too fast havethose young days faded,
That even in sorrow were sweet !
If thus the unkind world wither
Each feeling that once was dear,
. .Come child of misfortune, come hither, "
- ' - - ni weep with thee, tear lor tear.
She then sang a fragment of the beautiful
hymn ' '
Jesus, lover of my sour, j
Let me to thy bosom fly. '
-Another attempt to rise up was prevented,
and she threw herself on her knees beside her
brother, and gave him such a mournful, entreat
ing look, with a plaintive " Save me, my brother !
save your sister !" that scarcely a passenger re
frained from weeping. We say scarcely, for
there was was man (was he a man ?) who called
on the conductor to V pat her out of the car."
He received the open scorn of the company.
His insensibility to such a scene of distress al
most defies belief: and yet this is, in every par
ticular, an " o'er true tale." Should he ever
read these lines, may his marble heart be soft
ened by the recollection of his brutality !
Again the poor benighted beauty raised her
bewitching voice to one of the most solemn,
sacred airs
Oh, where shall rest be found,
Rest for the weary soul.
And continued her melancholy chant until we
reached the steamer Mount Vernon, on board
of which, we descended the magnificent Jame
jiver, the unhappy brother and sister occupying
the " ladies' cabin." His was a sorrow too pro
found for ordinary consolation : and no one dare
intrude so far upon his grief as to satisfy his cu
riosity. ' '
We were standing on the promenade deck,
admiring the beautiful scenery of the river, when
at one of the landings, the small boat, pulled
away from the short with the unhappy pair, en
route for the asylum at : . She was stand
ing erect in the stein of the boat, her head still
uncovered, and her white dress and?raven tres
ises fluttering in the breeze. The boat returned
and the steamer moved on for Norfolk. They
were gone that brother with his brpken heart,
that sister with her melancholy union of beauty
and madness. Char, Courier.
AH ECCENTRIC HERO.
What of that ? Heroism is always eccentric.
Some of the best military and intellectual he
roes the world ever saw were a tgood deal
laughed at in their life time. David was laup-h-ed
at for his saltatory piety, before the Ark ;
Socrates was a standing jest in Athens ; and the
" Clouds " in which he is ridiculed, by Aristo-
pliatiM ha1 " rwlnj-fnl tut fnr wo rlvnt pt-
actly know how many nights at the theatre.
But we must come down at once to the Anno
Dominis, and speak of the English family of the
Napiers an .illustrious family, " more famous
by the pen and glorious by the sword," as the
great Marquis of Montrose expresses it. The
Admiral who has just received the command of
the powerful English fleet about to go into, the
Baltic and stand to bombard St. Petersburar it
self!, is Sir Charles Napier, a very simple, eccen
tric man, as rough and brave as a boarding pike,
and as blunt as the breech of a cannon. In the
House of Commons, his jolly manner of speak
ing used to exhilirate the house greatly, and
bring down laughter and cheers in almost equal
proportions. He, it was, who led the English
fleet to the storm of the Syrian cities in 1842,
and in that rapid naval campaign he showed
himself as odd and as brave as Suwarrow go
ing in many places along with the storming par
ties, on shore, with a cutlass in one hand, 'and,
as he was a heavy fat man, a large handkerchief
in the other to mop his courageous hot face,
Col. William Napier, historian of the Penin
sular war, is as heroic and admirable in his style
as either his cousin Charles with his naval ar
maments, or his own brother Charles in com
mand of armies. It is of this military Charles
that we intended to speak. He was the- eon
queror of the Ameers .and the territory of Scin-
ke in India; and even more eccentric, perhaps
than the Admiral. lie had the simplicity of a
Roman with all the lofty heroism of a paladin
of the Middle ages. His addresses to the ar
mies in India under his command were the most
amazing ever written, in their utter scorn of ev
ery thing conventional and dignified. His lan
guage was racy, idiomatic and lorcible, with a
mixture of slang phrases which used to discom
pose the facial muscles of thirty thousand men
in the same hour of the morning. But every
man in camp, from the Lieutenant General
down to the drummer boy, knew what the man
was knew him to be-the bravest of the brave,
a man. who would stand no nonsense, and whose
rules of discipline were like the laws of the an
cient Medes. His own men loved him ; and
the enemy; whenever they saw his sharp face
and huge spectacles dashing here and there,
through, the smoke of engagements, used to say
it was Skeytan himself, and that neither iron
nor lead could perforate him just as the old
Covenanters used to say Claverhouse was the
devil, and fire silver buttons for bullets at him
Sir Charles died lately, and left his will be
hind him as curious a document as any thing
he ever wrote in the way of a military address,
We may allow that a man is or rather was
an original genius, when he carries his - eccen
tncity into his last will and testament ! j In this
document the General leaves his Ameer sword
.
to nis daughter Emily; for her eldest son. He
leaves a sword with which a terrible Belooch
chief, Sun Mohammed, got his quietus to Ma
jor Macmurdo. As regards a collection of old
arms that belonged to his father, he says :
have used my father's arms, and so have my
brothers, and his ghost shall rejoice in the fame
of his sons !" His white cornelian ring Her
cules, a gift from his mother in 1807, which
was never off his finger, he leaves to his wife
and daughter, stating it was with him in every
battle and was only saved at Corunna, when he
was made prisoner, by his hand being so cloth
ed with blood as to hide the ring. He leaves
to his sisters and brothers, his father's cornelian
ring, which he, Sir Chaj-les, always wore in h&U
tie and he says ofJiis father, that u his rival
in grandeur of body and mind and virtue, nei
ther they nor T have ever seen P - He leaves
his journals and letters to one of his brothers,
and hopes, if anything is published, his own
words may be used, and not frittered away!
There' is a high, Homeric spirit in the foregoing-
a spirit of Ossianio poetry which, though
it may oblige calmer natures to smile, will com
pel them also to admire the heroism of the
writer. ' To think that glowing loftiness of
thought should be found in one of the English
military officers, of all persons in the world!
The age of chivalry is not past begging par
don of the ghost of Burke. But thelast clause
we have quoted is the best of all. Let Mr.
Sparks, the historian of Washington, read it.
" Paint me as I am !,f" said Oliver Cromwell
and the Emperor Julian 8 said the same before
him " write down my own words and no oth
er!", says Napier. This is due to all men of
genius. Napier's language was part of himself.
And, in the case of our own Washington, we
should much rather read his letters and des
patches in his proper style and words " Old
Put" and all than entertain the suspicion that
his genuine mode has been smothed and regu-
ated into the Lindley Murray platitudes. A e
should give any money to hear exactly what he
said to poor Lee on that retreating occasion.
Something in the Napier style, we should
think! S.E.Mail.
The Paris correspondent of the Washington
Sentinel having paid a recent visit to Lamartine,
gives the following account of the poet-states
men :
I spent part of last evening with Lamartine.
He lives in a pretty, but humble residence; and
we found him surrounded by men of letters and
distinguished persons of liberal views from every"
and. He is still a 'fine looking man his ap-
pearance and manner ootn remind one oi
Henry Clay frank, bold and fearless. We
Were happy to learn that his estate which was
deeply involved by the sacrifices he made for
bis country, is .now, by his own extraordinary
industry and perseverance, nearly relieved from
debt. Besides many other literary occupations,
he is engaged on ,a life of Washington, which
will be published within this year.
Particular places become dear to the heart
of man more generally by the associations at
tached to them, than by their beauty, conveni
ence or fertility. Nor is this the cause only as
affecting individuals for attachment founded -on
memories or traditions binds .tribes and nations
ikewise to certain spots, and this is carried so
far occasionally that the mere name of a distant
country will call from the bosom feelings of affec
tion and devotion, joy, pride and hope.
DE
SIGNS OF A POOR FARMER-
He leaves his farming tools and implements
scattered around, and exposed, summer and win
ter, tojsun and ram.
He keeps no tools to repair his broken im
plements, when he might just as well do many
small jobs a3 to spend his time at the black"
smith's, or wheelwright's.
His fences are " patched " up from year te
year, just for the necessity of the time being,
and he is constantly in trouble; his cattle de
slroying his crops, and those of his neighbors.
nis meadow, or mowing lands, are cut from
year to year, from his childhood up, when his
father mowed the Same lands. They become
"sward bound," and produce but half a crop,
and of very poor hay at that. lie grazes his
mowing lands in the fall down close to the
ground, and his pasture lands early in the spring.
He suffers his buildings to become leaky, and
his stored crops to be damaged thereby.
. His stables are cold and leaky, and his hors
es and cattle suffer in consequence, and require
one-third more food to keep them in the same
condition that they would in dry warm build
ings. He overstocks his farm with lean, gaunt ani
mals, that he, has bought cheap, or raised from
stock that he has purchased at a low figure.
His hogs are of the br ed that requirers two to
make a shadow ; his fowls are small, uncomely
things, that would take three or four for a meal
for the family of the eternal scratcher genius
that no wing-clipping, nor high fencing will
keep ont of the garden.
He has a place for nothing, and nothing is in
its place ; and when a tool is wanted, ten or fif
teen minutes are spent in finding it, and then it
is out of order, and can't be used.
He is eternally borrowing of his neighbors,
but never returns the borrowed article-; at the
time he agrees, and the owners have to send
for them, and generally find them broken, but
no offer is made to repair them. .
He makes no calculation for rainy weather,
and in stormy days he and his hired men lounge
about, when they should be repairing broken
tools, grinding or paiuting them, and doing a
hundred other useful things.
He never has time to set out a good stock of
fruit trees, nor to graft such as are on his prem
ises, but he has time to lounge around the tav
ern or village store, to debate the po'itical ques
tions of the day, and to speud an hour or two
daily in useless "yarns" with others who have
nothing lo do but to discuss other peo, le's bu
siness. He does not take advantage of fine weather
to drive his business, but his business drives
him, and be is constantly behind others in his
work, and consequently has to perform more la
bor in hoeing his crops than other people do,
and also loses a portion of his crops by the ac
cumulation of weeds, which sap the fertility of
his soil.
' He seems to think that his arable lands nev
er need rest, and as he makes but little manure,
and that little is exposed to the storm, he cannot
return to his soil more than a mere fraction of
what he draws from it, and his lands grow more
sterile every year, till he begins to think it is
time to remove to the West. He plows but
four or five inches deep, because he does not
know that by plowing ten inches or more in
depth, a much larger crop would be realized,
and his lands would withstand drouhth much bet
ter. The consequence of this course is, that the
reots of his crops have no room to penetrate
the earth, and the first dry weather withers
them.
"In front of his house, we see either a rail
fence or one of boards in a rickety condition,
"with gates hanging on one hinge.' Every thing
looks untidy and forlorn about the premises.
Piles of rubbish lie in heaps in every direction,
and the slops of the kitchen are thrown down
at the kitchen door, for the hogs, dogs, and
hens to wallow in, making a stench that would
produce the yellow fever in some climates. A
few old hats are filling sundry air holes in his
windows, and his poor wife, broken-hearted and
discouraged, does all she can to appear tidy, but
as most of her time is taken up in driving the
pigs and poultry out of the house, she cannot
keep things in order, and gives .up in despair.
He brings up his children in ignorance, and
thinks that their feet need no shoes, oidy for a
few weeks in winter. He does not require them
to wash their hands, nor faces to be washed of
teuer than once a week, and their heads are
covered with a mat of snarled hair that would
break a curry comb to disentangle. .
No paiut is ever brought on his premises, by
his request, as such articles for covering the
weatherboards of buildings are entirely super
fluous, in his opinion ; nor are shade trees of
any advantage, nor a garden, nor newspapers
of any kind, and if one should ask him to sub
scribe for the Northern Farmer, ,he would get
Lis " walking papers " very suddenly, because
he abhors "book farming," and he knows more
than all the papers in the country can 'teach
him.--iVorAmi Farmer.
HOW TO KEEP HARNESS IN ORDER.
The subject indicated by the aboveheadin ,
has been discussed of late in the Rural by two
or three correspondents, but is of sufficient im
Dortance to bear further comment. With all
due deference, we are constrained to express the
opinion that few of those directly interested give
proper attention to the durability and appear
ance of harness, carnages, &c. We will, there
fore, give the mode of oiling and washing har
ness, practiced by one who is qualified to speak
understanding upon the subject.
Observing the good condition and fine ap
pearance of the harness of Aid. Baker, proprie
tor of the most extensive livery establishment in
Rochester, we requested him to impart to usv
for publication, the modus ojierandi by which so
desirable a result was achieved. In compliance
therewith, he stated the course adopted as the
best and most economical, after twenty years ex
perience in a business which required considera
ble attention to tackling apparatus. His process
of oiling and Washing harness is substantially as
follows
Take Neats Foot Oil, and Ivory or PatentBlack
the latter well pulverized, or to be made so
before using. Mix thoroughly adding the
black until the oil is well colored, or quite black.
In cool weather the oil should be warmed some
what b( fore mixing. With a sponge apply a
light coat of the mixture only what the leath
er will readily absorb, unless the harness is very
dry in which case a heavier coat may be ne
cessary. After the harness is dry- which will
le in from two hours to a half or a whole day,
depending upon the weather and previous con
dition of" the leather wash thoroughly with
soap suds. In making the suds use. good Cas
tile map and cold rain water. (Warm water
should never be used on harnass leather.) Ap
ply the sponge. Rub off with buckskin. This
will give the harness a nice, glossy surface, and
the leather will retain a good color and continue
pliable for months. If it becomes soiled with
mud, or sweat, an application of soap and wa:er,
as above directed, (without oiling,) will ba suffi
cient to give it a bright appearance.
Two applications of this oil and black mixture
a ear (or once every six months,) will be suffi
cient to. keep harness, as ordinarily used, in good
order. It may hi necesary for livery men, and
others who use harness constantly, to apply
the oil oftener but in most cases two oilings a
year, and washing with suds when soiled, will
keep a harness in good trim for sight and ser
vice. This pro ess will pay a large dividend in
extra service aud durability, to say nothing of
improved appearance.
Aid. B. assures us that the same, or a similar
application, is just the thing for carriage tops
which are made of top-leather. The only differ
ence in treatment, that less oil should be used,
or rather a lighter coating applied and it
should be washed off beore drying in, top-leath
er being thin and much more penetrable than
harness. Of course the mixture would not an
swer for enameled leather, of which some car
riage tops are constructed. Selected.
KITCHEN COMFORTS.
We accepted a polite invitation from a friend
in the country, not long since, to spend a night
at his farm-house. It was if stormy day the
wind was keenly sharp, and a light snow, which
filled the air, was whirled upon us in irregular
showers. Chilled to the bone, we looked for
ward eagerly to the blazing fire on the wide
hearth in the ample farm house, and indulged
pleasing reminiscences of days pone, when it was
often our privilege to meetmerry children at
a Farmer's fireside, where hearty sport was en
couraged, where we used to look for big apples
and r.uts, and capacious mugs of cider, and huge
cakes.
It made no difference to us then, if the kitch
en was the place where the old folks sat, and
where company was received ; it was our play
house, and we were occupied in joyous sport,
But, as we grew older, we thought it strange
that the independent farmer did not have more
books and pictures in bis house, and did not oc
cupy with his family, more frequently, some
other room than the kitchen ; for his house was
large and had many apartments.
. Thus occupying ourself with recollections of
the past, and hopes for the future, we spurred
our horse forward, but it was nightfall before
man or beast was hospitably cared for, and then
did we sit down before that roaring fire, which
had been blazing before us all day ! Not at all,
We had forgotton modern improvements, and
the price of wood. A mammoth cooking-stove
stood on the hearth, and though it warmed the
kitchen thorougly, it failed to throw over it that
cheerful glow which was imparted from, and
that social sentiment which gathered around,
the old fashioned fireside. Surely, thought we,
a man who owns one hundred acres of land
worth one hundred dollars an acre, who has
splendid house, well furnished, who has a barn
well filled, and money in the bank," does not
make his kitchen, with its cheerless aspect jmd
its common place associations, the family home.
But it was so. In that farmer's house, but one
newspaper was received it had no pictures no
musical instruments. Except on Sunday when
the minister came, or when the farmer's daugh
ters had company, the kitchen was the only
room in the house where a fire was built, and
there the family. sat silent, not sad, but not joy
ous, during ail the long winter evenings.
We had no reason to complain. We were
treated most hospitably. Certainly the kitchen
was good enough for us, but it was not good
enough for the farmer's family. He estimated
the value of corn and wheat and cattle more
carefully than he did the value of elevating
orae associations. His girls said, .'Oh, how
we should like a magazine and a piano," and
his boys said. How much we desire the new
books that are being published ;" but the father
counted the interest on the money he had in
ie bank, and said " We can't afford to buy
books and music. I have got to make some
provision for you all in the world."
He forgot, thdughthss man, the knowledge
elevating associations and dear home-ties, ties
which none of the rude shocks we meet in the
world can sunder, are worth more than houses
and lands or gold and silver.
Money in music and books and. pictures,
hich give an attractive delight to the home
circle, returns often a better per cent, to a hope-
ul father than money in banks or railway
stocks. Fxtravagane is always to be reprehend
ed, and there maj be extravagance in money
getting as well as in money-spending. When
we are able to have homes, their judicious ad
ornment, through efforts to make them delight
ful to ourselves and our children, is a duty high
er than money hoarding.
There is a remunerative philosophy in this
view of home life, and our farmers should study
and practice it more; but there are others than
farmers who might profitably give it heed, who,
in cities, have no mney for music and books
and pictures, who connot go to lectures and con
certs, but who smoke the best cigars and patron
ize the richest saloons. Cincinnati Columbian.
RUST IN WHEAT PREVENTED BY
DRAINING-
L. Tucker, Under this head, in your eigh
teenth number, are some suggestions from a far
mer in the western part of this State.
Observation and experience have convinced
me that too much moisture in the soil is the
cause of wheat being thrown out by frost, and
that thorough under draining, is the only re
medy. Every observing farmer knows that too much
moisture is one great cause, if not the only cause
of rust in wheat ; consequently the drier the
soil is, the less liable the wheat is to be injured
by rust. Thorough under draining is the re
medy.
The writer says : " When I moved to this
country, I had nojdea that our land would ever
need draining, but this was when the ground
was full of roots. Since these rotted out, there
has been a settling down of the soil, &c,
I only know that I have fields which
I would not now think of sowing with wheat,
but to which purpose I should bave made no
objection ten years ago."
Is not this the experience of every farmer liv-
ng south of the lime ridge or ledge, in all tha
wheat growing sections of this State? While
north of that ridge, no such results are experi
enced. This is my experience, having formerly own
ed a farm south of the ridge, on which wet
places each succeeding year were found, and
though under draining was extensively used,
and with good effects, still these wet places each
year called for an additional drain. Becoming
tired of this, I sold that and bought a farm
north of the lime ridge, and am exempt from
the former difficulty.
Lands north of the ridge, which are natural
ly wet, should be drained, but those which4were
dry before cultivation, remain so after it. This
is my observation and experience. Does the
observation and experience of others corroborate
it. Northern Farmer.
M.
Fairmount, N. Y., April 1, 1853.
Indian Meal DougaIs uts. A; tea-cup and
a half of boiling milk, poured on two tea-cups
of Indian meal. AVhen it is cool add two tea
cups of wheat, flour, one tea-cup of butter, one
and a half of sugar, one of yeast, and two eggs,
with a tablespootiful of cinnamon or a grated
nutmeg. If not sufficiently stiff, add equal por
,.e i t.i- .. i x
nous oi wneai aim jnuian meai. iet it rise
very light. Roll it about half an inch thick,
and cut it into small diamond-shaped cakes, and
boil them in lard.
Egg Dumplings. Make a batter of a piniof
milk, two well-beaten eggs, a tea apoonful of
salt, and flour enough to make a batter as thick
as for pound-cake ; have a clean saucepan of
boiling water, let the water boil fast, drop in the
batter by the tablespoonful ; four or five minutes
will boil them ; take them with a skimmer on a
dish, put a bit of butter and pepper ovr, and
serve with boiled or cold meat ; for a little desert,
put batter and grated i utmeg, with syrup or
Corn Fritters. One tea-cupful of milk,
three eggs, one pint of green corn grated, a little
salt, as much flour as will form a batter. Beat
the eggs, the yolks and whites separate. To
the yolks of the eggs add the corn, salt, milk,
and flour enough to form a batter, beat the whole
very hard, then stir in the whites, and'drop the
batter, a spoonful at a time, into hot lard, and
fry them on both sides of a light brown color.
A Cheap Cough Mixture. Take three
cents worth of liquorice, and three cents worth
of gum arabic, put them into a quart of warm
water, and simmer them until thoroughly dis
solved ; then add three cents worth of paregoric,
and a like quantity of antimonial wine. Let it
cool ; and sip whenever the cought is trouble
some. It is pleasant, cheap, and good, and will
remove a common cough from recent co:d. Its
cost is fifteen cents.
Buttermill Cake. Two cups of buttermilk
or sour milk, one cup f sugar, one piece of but
ter the size of a walnut, a teaspoon ful of salera
tus, spice to your taste, with a much flour as
will make a thin batter, and bake as above.
THE
RALEIGH, APRIL 1, 1854.
WILLIAM D. COOKE,
ED1TOK AND PROPRIETOR.
Terms TWO DOIXABS YEB. AKJSUJi, in Advance.
CLUB PRICES:
Thr CoDiea S5 full price $6,
Eight Copies, 12
, Ten Copies, 15 .'
Twenty Conies 20
16,
20.
, 40.
(Payment in all east in advance..
W Where a club of eight, ten or twenty copies is sent,
the person making up the club wilfbe entitled to a copy
extra
J5" Postmasters are authorized to act as Agents tor
die Southern Weekly Post.
Mr. H. P. Douf hit is our authorized agent for th
State of AuiBAjiA, Mississippi and Tennessee
ODIOUS DISTINCTIONS.
WTien the American delegates were, but a
few years ago, on their way to London to at
tend a religious meeting at Exeter Hall, cer
tain intimations were promulgated that some
of their number would not be admitted, and
threats of personal violence 'were made by Brit
ish ruffians, calling themselves philanthropists.
This shameful exclusion of Northern men, mere
ly because they were not violent abolitionists,
excited a just indignation throughout the coun
try. The New York Observer, one of the ablest,
most influential, and conservative of Northern
journals, one of whose editors was the principal
object of philanthropic insult across the water,
charged its columns with long and powerful
editorials on the subject, and gave the British
public abundant evidence of the feeling excited
in that quarter by the outrage. It appeared to
that paper altogether unjustifiable in a British
religious association to make an odious distinc
tion between one of its editors and the other
delegates, merely for the purpose of showing
its aversion to slavery ; and its wrath was pour
ed out without reserve upon its authors.
The great body of the northern people are
clearly in favor of maintaining a distinction
equally odious and offensive between the slave
holders of the South and the non-slaveholders
of the North. That distinction has existed up
on the statute book of lhe United States since
1820, and stands there still, a concession of the
South magnanimously made for the sake of
the Union. With a patriotic spirit of self-sacrifice
they voluntarily surrendered what they
have ever held to be a constitutional, right, and
consented to exclude themselves from an equal
enjoyment of the common property of the coun
try. But the imposition upon themselves of an
odious distinction, keeping up a mortifying
sense of restraint and inferiority, has never
ceased to this day to irritate and wound the
spirit of the Southern people. All along the
line of 36 30' they see in imagination, a bar
rier erected like a Chinese wall, to exclude
them from their own soil, and inscribed with an
insulting warning that they cannot enter upon
it, till they conform their notions and habits to
a Northern rule. It is true that this restriction
was self-imposed, bnt it was impdsed with the
consciousness that they were surrendering the
privilege of exercising a constitutional right,
and since the people of the' North have emphat
ically declared their aversion to it as a princi
ple of adjustment, as they did in 1850, they
have been willing to see it abrogated, and a less
odious, though equally effectual method of ex
elusion adopted in its place. They would desire
the same thing if it were the Arctic circle in
stead of the Missouri line. They have no ex
pectation of gaining anything by its repeal.
Its only effect must be, to erase from the stat
ute book of the nation an act which establishes
a hated distinction between them and others.
and proclaims to the world their inferior posi
tion as citizens of the republic. They wish to
strip off the badge of this inferiority, and to
stand hereafter upon a footing of acknowledged
equality with those whose opinions on the sub
ject of slavery may differ from their own.
Now, wheu the South proposes to the North
to repeal this act of 1820, which is equally re
pugnant to the feelings of both sections of the
Union, which Mr. Sumner says is against the
conscience of the North, and which is so gross
ly offensive to the pride and self-respect of the
South, the Northern Press, almost without ex
ception, and the New York Observer included, is
found opposing the measure with all of its
powerful influence, and insisting that the odious
distinction it creates, shall be preserved with all
the sacred jealousy of a divine institution. When
Mr. Prime was refused a seat on the platform
at Exeter Hall, the Observer was justly indig
nant, on account of the offensive character oi
the refusal. But that paper, rational, conserva
tive, catholic as it is in its general tone, and in
its spirit towrards the South, cannot see any
ground for discontent among her high-minded
citizens, when they are excluded, by law, frorn
their own soil when they are fenced off by an
arbitrary line from territories into which for
eigners of every name and faith are legally ad
missible, with all their errors, vices and peculi
anties. To our plain comprehension it is an
example of blindness for which nothing but the
long habit of looking at such subjects through
sectional spectacles can account.
If our northern friends truly desire, and we
believe the editors of the Observer do desire, to
conciliate and soothe the South, and. to take
away every cause of continued sectional irrita
tion,' let them cease to insist upon a distinction
which," so long as it stands, must tend to wound
and offend our people, and which it is absolute
ly unnecessary to preserve. There is scarcely
an intelligent Southerner, in our opinion, who
dreams of removing to Nebraska with his slaves.
If he did, it would be with the expectation of
seeing them emancipated by the laws of that
territory. Where then is the ground for so
much opposition to the repeal of the Missouri
line ! There could be no bad faith in it, if the
North agreed to it. If it were repealed, the last
cause of irritation would be removed, and the
moral influence of the North, now so much di
minished, would be restored to its legitimate
operation. We wonder that these plain con
clusions of common sense are not more obvious
to those who on almost all other points of con
troversy display so much penetration and dis
cretion. Major Hobbic, Assistant Post-Master General,
died on the 23d, at Washington, of consumption.
7 ? BEARD.
'We heartily wish a" ; World's Coilv,.,,;(
could be held, to settle once and foiw, , ,
vexed question about the h uraan own-! -p
debate is growing to a venerable Itiig;!,
can never j be satisfactorily settled with, ;u
application of the shears of arithmitv. - j
disputants on both sides have already s
t.lmslve sufficient iv barbaroux in !.,:
thod of warfare, and it is time for the l,.HI(.
be turned out of the field of debate.
There are two great powers which are cu:
ually exercising their influence on the -sui,;,. ,
and by their conflicting operation have kej t i,
fashionable world in a stew about it. ( Vv,
a modern"; usurper, has long exercised an ts;,.,
sive dominion over the realms ot Aaturr
i. - mm
las managed to render Bis power almost um,t .
nable. But Nature has still many adln-, .
who are zealous advocates of her claims. :in' ,
seems to be one of .the cardinal rules of h.-r u
vernmenf that the beard shall be permitted (
grow, and shall be allowed to distinguish tU
male from the female face divine. It locks
us like a very reasonable enactment, and toiu.
extent we mean to advocate the claims of
ture, to protect the countenance of man f'i un
the barbarous inroads of the ruthless razor.
In process of time, if women continue t0
progress at the present rate, there will ivua:..
no other public mark of distinction 4etweeti tie
sexes. It they become preachers, lawyers, vi, J
to.-s, editors and printers, as they seem resoi,,j
on, we hope they will also be mustered into uV
military service, both infantry and cavalry, sen
to the navy as tars and middies, enlisted in the
police, eAployed as surveyors and conducts
on railroads, and even permitted to work n
their shirlt deeves, aloDg the lines of our van. i
improvements, lhey will thus more fully u (.
ize whatj they often write about, the dignity
labor.
- f -
When all this takes place, we will be obliJj ' .
to fall back upon the teaching of Nature, and
et the beard grow on every face where the roota
of it have been planted. How else will it I I
possible Ito tell a man from a woman I
certainly have the advantage here. They caiJ s.
not ape a masculine look in the face by any it-
fort at art. An artificial beard would not ao t
cord with feminine features sufficiently to co'i-
ceal the artifice. Yes, ladies, you will be foiled!
at last. 'There remains to us this last linoreniJ
hope of man. You may rob us of all our p-i
culiar duties, but our beard our royal distinc-i
tion still remains.
MORAL EVIL.
- i
WsoiE masses and many millions of hk"
are often led into -errors of conduct by specio f
errors of thought. Eccentricity is not coiitr tJl I
to individuals. Peculiar quirks and one-suit ii
notions pervade extensive communities and
spread like au epidemic, influencing, to some r;
tent every person in their range. The uuntt I
evil mania, which originated at the North &, I '
the great illustration preseuted in our own tinits-j I
The idea prevails universally in that regioi,,;
that whatever is Jets useful, or les sate, thani
they would have it, is a mordl 'evil, and ounht
to be abolished. They believe, as firmly as tin.
believe in the existence of a deity or in the d.u.v
phenomena of nature, that if a thing is liable to
objections, it is wrong, and deserves the m.,iail
condemnation of the community. Nor can theV
understand the'views or pardon the motives of
those who differ from them. To do so, is to de
fend moral evilt and to place one's self below the
dignity of argument. You must first submit,
and hope to be convinced afterwards. ikh
appears to be the view which the northern pet
pie generally take of slavery, and even the lut
moderate of them are, perhaps, unable to divest
themselves of it. Geographical portion has
much to do with the illusion, self-confidence
still more, and it is probable that nothing but a
series of mortifying humiliations will ever rid
them effectually of its influence.
. Now! it seems very t plain to common rpi v.
that there may be conditions of society winch
are painful to contemplate, but of which it
wcmld be foolish to predicate any moral pn po
sition. ; We may disapprove of Whiggery or
"Democracy,, of radicalism, or nativism, but what
would be more absurd than to say of eithf-r of
these complex subjects that it is a moral evil'
We must either assent to this, or admit that
everything in the world that has evil or imper
fection 'connected with it, is moral evil, and ini 1
piously arraign divine Providence for permitting i
it to be. .
I ' j
.HISTORY.
How few of our young people read history . j
It requires but a cursory observation to convince ,
us of the fact. We never hear ; hem allude to 1
historical authors in their conversation, or to. im
of the 'great writers of former times, whilst u -common
enough .to hear a pretty five pxpro
sion of pinion iu regard to the ephemera1
productions of the day ; and it is ea-y to U'n j
from the general Jenor -of their -remarks tn.v-.i
even these are read, in manv cases, mostly i
the view of beinr fashionable, and not ti 'iii I
hearty relish for any kind of reading.
The truth is that the profiisioH of ehe:ip j
mercenary books has produced a kihd of '
of feeling in the reading public, and there i-M'
less steady," patient reading in any class of '
ty than there was in old times. There i- '
mnch jnews, anecdote, and miscellanv ( J
description constantly engagintr the rcad'-r-, 't
tention, that those who have a taste for litnr j
enjoyments, have little di sposition t' witli''1 itt
themselves from the scene of cotemporary at'w.'
tQ survey the wonderful, phantom like pr
sion of generations long departad, even wurh
me nand ot genius has embellished tlie drsium
with the most splendid decorations of art.-i
Such is the false and delusive influence vh
present events exercise upon the imagination,
that it requires considerable self-control to tvuf
their 'power. The last political movement, tl 1
last explosion or collision, or the last reporte
case of murder, forgery, or seduction, are tlx'
topics: which generally interest the private cir
cle, and engross the conversation of elderly ac
quaintances; whilst the last popular melody, r
the last novel of Dickens; Bui wer, Miss BiotiW
Hawthorne, Thackeray, or somebody else c
dem generis, is almost. th nnK i;t.rrv suli it i
- ' j ' j i .
which our belles and exquisites will condfst enl
to notice. The rising generation, educated u"' j
der such influences, is 'insensibly sufferiiii I
immense loss. Thev know not how vast ; t"re f
i s