RELIGION WITHOUT BIGOTRY, ZEALIWITHOUT FANATICISM, LIBERTY WITHOUT LICENTIOUSNESS.
IV. SUFFOLK, YA„ I^JUDAY, NOYEMBEB 94, 1871.
!N"o. 43.
Vol.
The Christian Sun.
otkd to the Interest of kbugion and Mo*
nALfTY, General and Local News, iind to
**“* advocacy of Uto principles of the Cijuis
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SELECTIONS,
To Yotng Men.
There never was a time that demanded
•of young men their overy energy more than
at the present, and he who rests on his
oars as if there was nothing to demand
attention hut to courume the substance of
others, mast fall into eontempt, ere long
With those who wish him well. There are
too many young men who arc seeking some
easy olaco, travelling from city to 'city, or
standing still waiting for something to turn
lip by which they axe to succeed in business
,of some sort without very great exertion on
•their parts. Ittsno had omen for young
•men to aspire to be great in any laudable
•pursuit, hut for,them to wander from place
•to place, or stand off, because their pride
•aud purse will not allow them to commence
■at a point short of whereat took their fath
er’s lifetime of ptSrsoycxance to reach, is a
bad omen.
Look around and see how many aid men,
who are well to do in the .world, when
young were poor, and at the same time, see
if you do not fiud some old men who were
well to do when young, but whose condition
is to bo pitied in the' decliue of life. ’In
quire of those who have succeeded as well
•as these who have failed, and then tho ex
ample of success and failure, will be before
you.
We feel interested in young men, foi up
on them depends the success of this eouo
try ; we kuow there is but little use in wri
ting or talking to old men, for their habits
were formed under different circumstances
,. .altogether from what yours should bo.-rs
S There never was a, hotter time fur young |
alien of strong muscles and. willing minds,
,to succeed than at.present.
* ..v We commquced 'life under adverse cir
,i. 'mstances, feeling that if we should ever
.attaSt to a comfortable home we would be i
,os content as the wealthiest in the land. If j
,there is anything that we regret it is to sec j
-young men whiling away the hey day of
life instead of reaping (lie golden fruits of
youth —Reconstructed Farmer.’
Sowing anil Reaping.
.“ilu that obfjfirveth the piud will ml '
.sow ; ami he that regardeth the clouds will
not reap.’*
In spiritual as well as in material things
.divine.illustration holds good. To a lucid
.comprehension of .Scriptural analogy we
must realize that itn indication is true.—
There is p timidity and undue hesitancy or
CivnS)d>irilteness on the part of some which
destroys all effort, the end to which they do
.pqt see from the beginning. It is our
■business to go forth in the work properly
before us and leave the “wind, tho cloud.”
.aud all results to iliin who rules over all.
There should be wisdom in the inception
and conduct of all undertakings as well as
an alert and correct discernment of the in
dications of the times, but .generally thqrc
is more loss and failure from over caution
and by waiting for “open doors” than from
recklessness cr prcmaturencss.
“Sowing and reaping” arc the order of
- .the seasons, the life work and employment
of men ; while the elements are iu God’s
hands to dispose and modify. Our dis
.cretiou has a limited margin in some things
in others none at all. Under the most for
bidding condition the .seed must often be.
sown, and the reaper, if he would save
anything, cannot always wait for a clear
sky. We have no time for watching the
seasons, but instead of so doing it is better
to live by faith and trust where we cannot
trace or explain tho ways of God. It is not
only better but possible and our duty.
^Christian, “withhold not thy hand, for in
,.due time thou shait reap if thou faint not.”
■ “Ho that goeth forth weeping bearing pre
cious seed, shall doubtless return rejoicing,
fringing his sheaves with him."
Rich Without Money.
Many a man is rich without money.—
>Thousands of men with nothing in their
pockets, and thousands with not even a
pocket, are rich, A man born with a good
sound constitution, a good heart and a pret
ty good head piece, is rich. Good hones
are better than gold, tough muscles than
silver ; and nerves that flash fire and carry
energy to'’ every function are bettor than
houses or lands.
It is better than land estate to have had
tbo right kind of father and mother.
Good breeds and bad breeds exist among
men as among herds and horses. Educa
tion may do much to check evil tendences,
or to develop good ones; but it is a great
thing to inherit-the proportion of faculties
to start with.* ~—
Thu man is rich who has a good dispo
sition—who is naturally kind, patient,
cheerful, hopeful, and who has a flavor of
wit and fun in his composition. The hard
est thing to get along with in his life is
• a man’s own self. A cross, selfish -fellow,
a timid, caro-burdened man ; theso aro all
born deformed on the inside. Their feet
may not limp, but tbeir thoughts do.
The >yondiouM Relationship.
‘■For *'lioftoerrr shall do the will of my Fattier
which is in,|ieaven. the saim* is my brother, and
ray sister, and mother.”—Mark in: 35.
As if ro earthly typo were enough to
imago forth the love of .Jesus, Ho assembles
into r>ue verse a group .of the teuderest to- !
lationfhip. Human affection has to focus*
its lovliost hues, but all is too little to afford
an opponent of tho depth of //7s!* “As
one whom hi* mother comforteth,” “my j
sister.” “my spouse.” lie is a “Sou,J>
‘Bfothcr,” ‘ Friend,” all in one, “delv
ing closer than a brother.”
And can wo wonder at such language ?
Is it merely figurative, expressive 6f more
thad the reality ? He gave /I tinsel/ for us:
after that pledge of his nff.fctaoii, we must
cease to marvel at any expression of the
interest lie feels in us. Anything lie can
say or do is infinitely less that what Hr.
has done.
Believer art thou solitary and desolate ?
Has bereavement severed earthly ties ? has
the grave made forced estrangement, sun
dered the closest links of earthly affeo'.iou •?
In Jesus thou hast p!ia;l and fraternal love
combined. ,He is the .Friend of friends,
whose .presence and fellowship compensates
for all losses and supplies all blanks ; ‘ lie
sefteth the* solitary in families.” -If thou
art oppressed, friendless, comfortless, here,
remember there is in the Elder Brother on
the throne, a love, deep as the unfathomed
ocean—boundless as eternity.
And who are those who claim the bless
cdness spoken of under this wondrous im- I
ageryV On whom does he lavish this un
utterable affection ? No outward profession
will purchase it. No church, no priest, no
ordinances, no denominational 'distinctions.
It is on those who are possessed of holy
characters — "lie that doe Ml the will of my j
Father which is in heaven1’—lie that reflects ,
the mind of Jesus.; imbibes his Spirit; J
takes his word as the regulator of his daily
walk, and makes his glory the great cud.of
his being,-; he who lives to God, and with ;
God, and for God ; the humble, lowly,
Christ-like, hcavea-scelung Christian—he ,
it is who can claim as his own this won- ,
drous heritage of love,.! If* it be a worthy
object of am-uitinn to be loved by the good j
and great on earth, what, must it be to have !
an eye of love ever beaming on us from the j
Throne, in comparison of which the attach- ;
incut here of brother, sister, kinsman, ;
friend—all combined-*—pales like the stars
bef ire the rising sun ! Though we are of
ten ashamed to call him “Brother,” “he is
not ashamed .to call .us •brethren.” He looks
down upon poor worms, aud says :
’ “The, same is my brother, and sister, and
mother.” “I will write upon them.” he
says iu another place, “my new name.”
Just as we write our name on a bock to
tell that it belongs to us ; so Jesus would
write his name on us, the wondrous vol
umes of his grace, that they may be read
and pondered by principalities and powers
Have we known and believed this love of
God? Ah, how poor has been the’requi
tal! Who caunofc subscribe to the words
of one whose name was iu all the churches,
“Thy love has been as a shower; the re
turn but a dewdrop, and* that dewdrop
stained with pin ? ''—Exchange.
Tlic Harvest is Past.
Sunil are the words which prophet Jer
uiiah' put in the niputh pf a “diso.bedien.t
ana gainsaying people. lo us it seems j
strange that summer should ho mention- I
tioned after the harvest, but this may be [
easily explained. Iu Palestine the autum- j
nal rains begin to fall the last of October. J
This is the seed-time. G rain usually matures
in May, which is therefore the.time of har
vest. .Later, and during the summer,
occurs the fig harvest.
This, then is the passage expressed:
“The grain harvest is past, the fig harvest
is also ended, and wo ar.a not saved.”—
The picture in ajl .its sad beauty is this:
the grain has b.eeu sown, the early rain has
fallen, winter is over, the latter rain has
also fallen, and the grain has matured.—
The reapers have entered the fields and
gathered much into the garner—r-fent nat
all! The fig harvest has come and is ended
but many remain ungathored Here and
there stalks of grain iu the open field, and
figs upon the leafless trees remain, unshel
tered and alone, when the harvesters have
completed their work ! These when they find
themselves left behind unsayed, lfit up their
voices with a mournful cry, “The harvest
ianast, the summer is ended,and we are not
saved!” May we have grace given pstn
ponder the lesson of the harvest-field !
If man or woman wishes to realize the
the full power of personal beauty, it must
be by cherishing' noble hopes and 'purposes :
by having something to do and something
to live for, which' is worthy of hnmanity,
ind which, by exapnding 1 the eapacn'ties of
the soul, gives expansion and symmetry
lo the "body which contains it.—Professor
Upham.
Cuauitv gives itself rich, but coyetous
ness hoards itself poor. "
Sill’s Recompense.
Tt pleases £k>d sometimes to coin-2 upon J
men who have been living Jiv^s of high
handed wickcnncss. Iln quickens thi ir 1
moral sense. That is done sometimes by (
afflictions. I have known men reformed
from bad courses ‘by great domestic a-fflic- 1
tions. God accented ns a sacrifice their
darlings, and brought them into a state of ,
sensibility, in which they devoted their
lives very differently from the way in which
they had ever developed them before.— !
W’ir'ip t'liiia the truth is brought borne to I
wicked men’s lives, they have such a con- i
ecptioh of God’s law, of bis judgment, of
his royalty and of bis presence in human
affairs, that they eannot think of themselves
oribeir conduct as they did before. Some
tjmes it is sickness; sometimes it kt bank
ruptcy ; sometimes it is frbeTess of the re
spect of men. Many things may act in c
way to increase the .sensibility of a man's j
moral sense ; aud that very • moment he
passes to a different judgment of his con- '
duct.
But sometimes it is too ■later-' T have
known men who looked back on their youth,
and said, “I would give all the world if I
could wipe out ten yea,re of my early life.” I
have known men to .mourn, and say,“Why. :
I have misled scores of young men !” I ]
have known men to say, “I have destroyed
innocence and purity. J did not think of
it or care about it at the \\uu\ but 1 sec the j
horrible wickedness of it now, and my soul ’
is fuil of dark regrets.” It is too late. I
have known men, who, during a certain j
portion of their business life, wore as greedy
as sharks, and ns merciful. T have know.u
meu who rent and destroyed those round
about them. I have known those who
made* wealth by the most outrageous cruil
tiejj. I have known men who carried their •
avarice to dishonesty. But after they had
parsed through a certain period, it, pleased
God to intone their conscience, and to give
them a larger formal feeling ; and they
look back sit in judgment upon themselves, ,
and would, -if they could, make an atone- j
ment of all they had amassed. But it was '
too late. They could not retrace -the-ir
steps. The mem whom they had wronged .
were scattered. The circumstances were
all changed. The things remained that, I
they had earned. But their moral sensi
bility had become so uew that they judged
very differently of themselves.—Beedur.
.No Passport.
It was a cold day in December, when a
vessel was leaviug one pf our seaports. !
bound for a distant land A party who i
.were bound to sail had coma down early, j
to have all things in readiness, and then j
went.out op deck to watch for a dear friend i
who was coming down^o spend a few last j
hours with them. He had come a long
distance t5 them, and there were many !
"last words” tobe spoken, and messages j
sent back to dear ones at home. At last j
they espied bis well-known form.&nd smiling !
face as he hurried along the dock, and he (
was about to pass the narrow gangway when j
he was checked by an officer, who asked
for his "pasport.” In those war days no I
one was allowed to leave the shore without
his passport.
"But I not going to leave the country,” j
be said; "X only wish to see my friends j
comfortable before leaving them.”
“'Jan t help it, sir. iou can .pat go on |
board this vessel without a passport.”
Oh, what a disappointment it was on that
chilly wiuter’s day ! ;It struck home to hfs *
bearf more chill than the frosty air. There »
t.he.y were but a few feet from him, yet he
could not go to them. - There was the lux-1
urious cabiu, so warm and bright, and he i
shut out iu the cold. He could only wave
his farewells to them, and go hack to his
distant home again. If he had but thought
in time, he could easily have secured his \
passport; but then it wa? too late.
JJut this was a trifling thing compared
with the mistake which many make. How
many about us have no passport to heaven !1
They can never reach it without, yet they
make no effort to secure it. The blood of
Jesus Christ is the only passport. Have *
you an interest iff it?
Do not be like the foolish virgins, who |
lot their lamps gp out, and then, when they j
came and knocked, saying, “Lord, Lord, i
open unto us,” the Master answered, “I
know you not,” and the door was shut. Oil, I
think what it would bo to have the door of
heaven shut against you, wh^Ie withiu are
your father, mother, sisters, and brothers.J
You can not bear a long separation from
them here.. What would it be to be shut |
nut from them for all eternity ?—Selected.
TnK&li are no fragrants so precious as
those of time, and none are so heedlessly.!
lost by the people who oannot make a mo
ment and you can waste years.
■ ITk who undertakes to overtake a slander
will fail. You can no tuore run it down j
than you can wind it up.
‘J_1
„ ’ '' others.
200«>o ^
I ^f'erscverin^ Prayer.
(y\'. Would not suppose theoretically,
that there could e-ver he any difficulty in
praying, or that there would be any need
<ff exhortation not to faint in prayer. But
ihe Bi^e abounds in exhortation which
presuppose the danger of discourageiuftDt
in prayer. We are bid again and again to ,
persevere in prayer, as though, without
this caution, there was danger we should
become disheartened aud should desist.
Experience proves that there is just this 1
danger. We are continually losing our j
hold ou prayer, our interest in prayer, our
faith in the power of prayef. We either |
eeasc to pray altogether, or we maintain
prayer by a certain momentum derived by
the habits of the part, rather than from
any loving expectation of answer, or any
vital enj »yincut of it, zap present commu
nion with God
One obstacle to prayer is our niooci.—
Y/e do not fed like praying. Sometimes,
doubtless, this is to he yielded^ to, and
prayer is to be intermitted. .Often the
body is wearied, the brain needs deep, -it is
a mistake to deny .it .needed rest for the
sake of muiprtuinlug what .proves to be but
a form of prayer. H\v« it is not always
safe to yield to the mood. Often we ore to
pray it down. And, especially, whenever
we find the prayetless mood growing on us,
day by day, we have Deed to do battle.
Another common obstacle to prayer is
overwork. A ceftaio “restfulness and quiet
is the condition of the highest state of pray
er. .1 ne old pioiiks were so i ir ngnt :
but when they imagined they must retire I
from Use altogether, they were wrong.— ;
.Never was-a busier man than Jesus Christ; !
but lie found time to on apart among the j
mountains forprayer. The best prayer it is j
sometimes said, is work. I would sootier j
reverse the apothegm, and say. Tie best,
work .is .prayer, tf solves many a problem, !
settles many a question, and sends ua back i
to life, oftimes, with a new and wonderful i
vigor that proves invincible.
The commonest obstacle to prayer, how
ever, ;s that which .Christ intimates—the
delay of-(-rod's answer. We grow discour
aged, disVSartetved. We think lie has not
heard, or hearing, will not answer. We
argue it is not flis will, y?c hevE no right
to importune Him, wo must submit. So
we take discouragement for resignation, I
and abandon prayer before we have received
any reply. This -is ail wrong. We may j
not tease, but we may importune God.—
lie bids us do so. We are not to be re- |
pelled bv silence. We are to persevere.
Delay is cot donial.
If you ask why we should go on praying, !
why one asking dues not suffice, I do not i
presume to answer. It is enough for'me
that God ha# not forbidden, but encour
ages my importunity . Perhaps He wishes
to try me and see how great my trant really
is. Perhaps lie wishes to strengthen it. 1
Prayer for needed grace persovereing,
.persistent prayer, often .converts a wish into j
a passion.
The argument wiiich Christ here adduces !
for importunity in prayer is derived from a j
contrast. A judge who neither fears God
nor regards man is of ail men most lost to
moral .consideration. -Yet importunity
vanquishes him. The widow is not dis
couraged by his declension, but comes.pgain
and again How muoii more should we I
come to God with confidence that lie will ]
hear us.
Tbe contrast is heightened T>v the fact
that the widow is nothing to ^_the jtTdge ; |
while the praying Christian is one of God’s
own elect children,
The ways that go on in this world un
checked are not unwitnessed. God is not
mocked. lie seems to delay ; but lie
comes speedily and when He comes He will j
aveuge Ilis own. There are no unheard i
prayers,fuone that are not answered now or
will he iu the “groat day.”
And yet there is very little faith in the
world ; so Tittle that Christ asks sadly
whether, when He conies, tie shall find
any faith left on the earth. Surely there is
very little vital faith oven now.—Illinois
Christian Weekly.
“The meanness of the earthen vessel,
which conveys to others the Gospel treas
ures, takes nothing from the value of the :
° j
treasure. A dying hand may sign a deed j
or gift of inestimable value. xV shepherd’s j
boy point oat the way to a philosopher . A i
beggar may be tluT bearer of au iuvaluablo j
present,”
Little Sins.—-A hole in a ship sinks it;
a small broach iu a sea-band {carries all :
before it; a little stab ip the heart kills,a
man : and a little sins as it is oftEo impro
perly called, tends to his final destruction.
A little drop has been many a man’s ruin—
every drunkard began with a single glass.
Truthfulness is a corner.. stone of char
acter , and if it be not firmly laid iu youth,
there will always be a weak spot in the
foundation.
r
Will Knaugh To-day.
It made m.y heart ashe, yesterday, when ;
you struck tie child, IccqUse he made so
much noise.
Is ho still enough for you to day ?
Last night, when he put up his sweet,
rosy lips for a kiss, the thought came to
me, how Christ-like is a little child, though
all unconsciously so; ho forgives seventy j
times seven, tinit's the unjust wotcis and !
blows of a thoughtless mother. I think I !
never saw youbut you complained of little j
Bertie4s noise ; I wonder if the child is j
quiet enough ,to please your most exacting
wishes now
The dear baby was a noidy child. It
seemed to be inherent in his nature to
pound and upset things; to shout at the top
of his sturdy lungs ; to improvise all man
ner of whoops and yells : but it was only
the working of the forceful nature that God
gave him he was not a wicked child there j'
—— . ’ |
really seemed to be no evil in his nature.
■lae greeted you always with a kiss.'
I can see him now, springing up into
your lap., his beautiful face aeil afire with '
love, tumbling your collar, rumbling your
hair, disarranging vo.ur work-but ohi .
r- o r j
loving you so !
Am! I have seen you submit to it, frown- ! ,
ifcgly, impatiently, with .quick words, and
as if it were a task which must be endured,
glad when he had got through with his
rough caressing?, that were so beautiful to
me; calling him a little bear^y^fewishing ]
—I will spare you » repetition of some of ,
the speeches you havy mane, oh, willful ,
and thoughtless mother 1
Ceja Fti.ll enough to-day !
Hast night, a strong angel )came in the
mid-watches and die took yoor noisy -baby
out of your way. There was one -look of
unutterable love, ono flinging uX of the
little anus to bis mother, one passing smile
so sweet no moral haud eould paint it—a
smile, for all the quick words and wordless
shakings, the frowns, the—blows on his
pretty shoulders. Is it any wonder that
the angels do always behold the face of our
Fa'her in heaven •
Ah, he is very beautiful as 1 look upon
him now. waxen and cold, with'the golden
curls that will never need your finger to
twiDe them any more^ very lovelv, very
unlike ‘‘that noisy little thing ?”
His hands arc exquisite in their fold ;
every dimple firmly marked, every tiny
nail like elouded pearl, every dash on that
softly rounded cheek distinct as perfect
.repose can make it. The curve of the.
Shroat, the .noble arch of the temples, .the
singing mouth, the tender bpsorn, the
dainty limbs, are they still enough for you
uew 2
I dare not stay in your home—I dare
not. Its silence would almost madden me,
remembering as I do how harshly you
dealt with the noble soul God gave iu your
keeping. I should hear his marching step,
hringiug down, that strong littfe foot, with
ringing noise that made you “so nervous,”
with cdiUary precision, accompanied by his
songs without language that. euded in the
heartiest, sweetest laugh I ever heard in
my life.
I hare often pitied the little creature, | ^
but it is you whom I pity now. y<m never
knew the worth Of the treasure lent you,
but you are counting .it .to day with bitter (
tears. You are counting it on lips that t
never refused to respond to your kisses be
fore ; you are counting it on hands that
loved to cuddle its your bosom ; you are
counting, it on sealed eyes that always >
looked up to you in gladdest delight save ! •
when their lids were widened with grieving !
wander.
Stall enough now. _ _ j
You can knit, and sew, and read and
visit j there is nothing to hinder, save,
perhaps, .the memory of what will draw as
hitter tears from your eyes as ever clouded
moral visits.
But your home will be very quiet.—Mrs.
Denison.
“A persou converted iu youth,” says
John Angell James, “is like the sun rising
on a summer’s morning to shine through
■the long, bright day. But a persou con
verted late in life is-like the evening star,
a lovely object of Christian contemplation,
but not appearing till the day is closing,
and then but for a little while.”
Snekr not at old cloths. They are often i
made holy by long sacrifices by careful fold- ,
Vugs away, that they luay last uutil the
dear ones are provided for. If many an
old.coat could speak, what tales it would j
tell of tho ptJJ*
In vain do they talk of happiness who i
never subdued an impulse in obedience to a
principle. He who never sacrificed a pres- t
ept to a future good, or a personal to a
general one can speak of happiness only as j
the blind do of colors.
Drams no infirmity of mind or body,
norauy condition of life, for it may be your
own lot.
FARM AND GARDEN.
Lime as a fertiliser.
In response to a correspondent who asks
us to say something about the uses of lime
on land, we give some of the principles
which'J should govern in its application,
gleaued from Johnston’s Agricultural Chem
istry.
Licse exists rn all fertile soils, and its
presence is considered Indispensable to the
growth of vegetation. The need of supply
ing it to the soil will be seen when we .re
flect that every crop removes a quantity.
The effect of lime is both mechanical and
shermeal. Jt opens and renders freer such
soils as a stiff and clayey, while it increases
live porosity of such as are already light
and eandy. To the former, its mechanical
iction is almost always favorable, and to
he latter not unfrequently the reverse. It
titers .the natural produce of the land by
iilliug some kinds of plants and favoring
there, it extirpates heath, moss, sour herb- ,
ge. and brings up a sweet and tender (
irowth, and Is said to juake gU fodder to
tbich it is applied, richer and more palat- ^
■ole to toe stock. It is especially valuable
n old meadows that are filled with moss (
nd coarse grasses. It improves the quail
y. and hastens the maturity of most culti
'ated crops. ’
The effect of lime is greatest when it is
veil mixed with the soil, and kept near the
urface. On nes soils, or those containing
nuch valuable matter, its effect is strongly a
narked., also on subsoils brought to the 1
urface. ,
As lime requires some time to produce i
ts effects on the soil,'it should ija applied t
* Iong as possible.before the crop is sown f
■tid worked in.‘ If used on a fallow for I
iheat at .is ’pcijl to .spread it after the last f
iloughing, and work it well into the soil s
nth harrow and cultivator ; or it may be i
proud in the field hefore it is first ploughed f
nd the subsequent workings wiil iucorpo- ! j
ate it with the surface soil. It should t
iot come in contact with unfermented ma- f
mre in the air, as it rapidly expels ammo- 1
da, but if the two substances be covered c
vatu a few inches pf soil, .uo waste occurs, t
The use of lime in heavy doses acts partly I
is a stimulant to the soil, and enables the i
raru;er to extract much more from it during l
:hree or four years following than he would i
f no lime were applied. To illustrate, if a i
armer were on a leased farm, having three i
>r four years to remain, it wouid pay him t
Jest, if he used lime, to apply it, ic doses as i
arge as two hundred bushels per aere,
naking, only one applicatian. The" soil t
rould he thus stimulated to produce large t
rops, and use up its vegetable matter quick- o
y. For most cases this principle will hold „
tood, viz : lirno heavily at the first dress- c
ng, aud follow it with frequent applications
if small doses.
We do not cow recall any experiments
vhicb determine the value of lime in this t
ountry as a fertilizer. In Europe it is used 1
argely, both in Great Britian aud cn the £
1outiuent. With us the best practical illus- | i:
rations of its benefit can be found ic some | a
ocalities in Pennsylvania. Its continued j
ise has proved that the farmers deem it a j e
irofitable fertilizer.—Rural Home. ! t
c
gravel Walks.
To make good, dry walks that may be j f
:sed with pleasure and comfort at all j,
imes :
Take three parts screened grave!, one
art. .Sour of lime (previously riddled), add
s much coal tar as will make it of the con
istency of stiff mortar—if tie tar is heated
: will be easier to work. For ordinary
•alks, it should be laid on from two to two
nd a half inches thick ; it should bo glight
y thicker in the centre than at the sides,
cinch should be ope inch below the edge ;[
he centre of the .walk to ,'p# the same height
is the grass edge, but they must vary a
little, according to the width of the walls.
Smooth and beat the surface with the back
of the spade, as.ihe work proceeds. If the
black color, be.4an objection, take three parts
of sand and one part of lime, mis well to
gether. aud sift .a little over the surface
while still moist and roll wpll. Wo have
walks which were made, as above, thirteen
years ago, and they are good as ever. But
tare must be taken in laying them to have
F
t firm basis. These walks have a great i
nany advantages over ordiuary gravel j
ralks. They are always dry, they grow I I
10 weeds, aud are much more easily swept; | <
Wheeling of rasuure and soil can be done i
my time, and much quicker and -easier.- - t
indeed, they are a great saving of labor in t
nauy ways, and when once perfectly dry, l
*Jdoes not effect them. Where graTOl i
s scarce and expensive, very' good walks
nay be made with sand, lime aud tar, in !
lame proportions as above; but this takes 1
uuch longer to set before it is fit to walk
rpon, and is more difficult to spread; but
s got over by using’a warm spade. To
iiake a good carriage r#ad, coarser mate
rial must ba used, and laid in two layers :
first, three or four inches of broken stones;
second, screened gravel two inches, mixed
as directed for walks. The best time for i
making them is in the spring, when the j
weather becomes settled.
i ■■ .i i ■ •■■■■ i pm
Tiif. Christian ’Sits,
\ D V ERTlWEMliWTS. ,
V f. irtTs RMEHts not Iwcb* r \ *1 ojkwlfch «U*
character of the paocr. will bo inSerwd at tjft«
follov'lofi rates r
Otw fcqtrae of ten lines Arm maertlon.. fl IJt
For oriel* subsequent Insertion ,V»
Ono xqun-rc jtbiee months; . ri no
One square six months. .12 0t>
One,square twelve months. is rto
AnvyUTiaJiR}-' ehnnsrlnE weeklr. rrowt fhshe
a Special auroein nt. Yearly Advertisers will |«v
monthly. <»r quarterly In advance. Tranalenl au
vectiaemenls to be paid.for nn insertion.
JOB WORK. j
Book trod Jon T’hinttno of ex'erv kind d»n»a
at our Job Ofhee in the best style and on mod«
ate terms.
Fattening Hors
In regard to the number or time per day
hogs should he fed, when put up for fatten
ing, my experience in the matter is this :
When hogs are as old as they should \ e.
after putting them in pen and feeding them
somewhat plentifully for six or eight days,
they will thee hoar full feeding, and they
should havp a# that they c&a eat. And f
care not whether it given in cue feed or
five. Bat about one day in each week f
like to feed a little sparingly, so as to let
them get a little hungry.
Turning hogs into a cornfield I consider
a wasteful way of feeding. Still, I tlyfito t
have never seen hogs fatten faster than;
when they were feeding theratefvee in this
manner.
• f do not thiph it beat to give full feed
to hogs at an early age as some do Put
ting them to pasture and givinglhem grain
to keep thrifty, I regard as ihe best plan
intil they are twelve to sixteen monthsold
ly this time they have age ami constitution
0 bear -being put up and full fed. In this,
ray they will take on flesh and fat very
ast. When hogs are penned up to be fat
ed, they frequently fail I think to get wa
er enough. It is according to my experi- >
ncc that we have to salt and water our
tock fat. as well as to feed them fat.—
7iu. Gazette'
Pure Water For Cows,
There is as doubt that impure water haa"
a injurious effect on the flavor of milk,
t has been found that the milk from cows
thieh were compelled to drink stagnant
rater from ponds, when brought to the
hteso factory was tainted, and gave a bad
lavor to the making of cheese into which it
Lad entered. We have before us a letter
rom a correspondent in Norway, who
peaks of the ill effects resulting from per
uitting cows to feed on the litter thrown
rom horse stables—a practice too common
n the country. Not only was the milk
mt the butter and the choose made there '
rom had an unpleasant taste and smell.—
t is well known that wild garlic eaten by
ows in spring lends its peculiar flavor to
he milk and butter yielded by them. In
act nothing is more sensitive to ill-flavored
mbstance? eaten or drunken by the coiya
,han is the milk or butter. The use of
itagnant or impure water should then be
iorupulonsly avoided, and if no other Source'
if pure water is possible, a sufficient quan
itv should be pumped for cows twice a day
it least.
There no more striking illustration of
he facts above noted than the unpleasant
aste of milk from cows fed on the waste of
istilleries, experienced by one used to the
a ilk of a farm and obliged to sojourn in V
ity.
Economy in Long Furrows.
A German agricultural journal observe?'
bat farmers pay very little attention to the
tngth of the furrows to be plowed in a
eld, and yet great waste of time and labor
> the necessary consequence of unsuitable
rraigeuaents in this respect.
The turning of the piow and the commen~
ing of a new furrow requires moreexer
lon in the plowman^and the' team than
ontiaued work on 3 straight line, .and hew
reat may really be the loss of time from'
requent interruptions in short turns may
e shown by the following calculation : In
field 225 feet long, five and a half hours
ut of ten are used in redirecting the plow ;
'ith a length of 575 feet, four hours are
uflicient for the purpose, and when the
low can proceed without interruption for
;O0 feet, only one and a half hours of the'
aily working time are consumed. Hence
he rule Jo make the furrows as long aa:.
ireumstanoea will admit.
Biscuits (or Breakfast.
In the evening, take lukewarm water,
and mix dough as £or bread, adding yeast,,
salt and shortening, the latter in th3 pro
portions as for soda biscuits ; nead Well, and'
then put it in a warm place for the night ;
in the morning dissolve a teaspoonful of
soda (for dough made with a pint of water)
and strain it, or it will settle in co!ored:
spots in the bread; work it into dongh,
and then roll it out and out with a sharp,
biscuit cutter, and set them to rise five min
utes ; or put them directly into the oven if
moderately heated ; these biscuits’ should
ae baked slower a“nd longer than soda bis
mits. These will be found very nice.—
.’articular care must be-taken that they are
nixed stiff-enough at first, not to require
■be addition of flour, as this would render
;hem»heavy in proportion to the amount of
lnleavened flour.
Cure for Diutuijria.—A simple and
mccessful treatment of diptheria maybe
:ouod in the use of lemon juice. Gargle
:he throat freely with it, at the same time
swallowing a portion, so as to reach all the
affected parts. A French physician claims,
that he saved his own life with this pleas
ant remedy.
Stick to your business if you expect *.*v
succeed. ——