RELICION
WITHOUT 111
WITHOUT
OUT
BIGOTRY.
UCENTIOUSNfsff
WL'ifr
Vol. XXVI. SUFFOLK, VA., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1873.
ISTo. 48.
TIIK SUN
I ta tli* Interest of nr.i.iotoa nni) Mo
ot. Uri'khai. and Local News, nnd to
advocacy of tlie prlnolplea of the (Jams
♦fin emmeH.
PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY.
I I'd, » TRItMH:
... so
Kof *1* niOWK. i 25
REV. W. B ~\V ELL0N8,
EbITOR AMD pROPaiMTOa.
OrrtcB on Kii.hy Street.
Money went I*1 unregistered letter*, must bent
be rl#K of tlie eender. The Hafoai way to tend
money I* *>y » Odlce money order; a regis
tered Tetter, or » draft on none Bunk, business
hosee!■ dullhtk or Norfolk.
POE T IIY.
WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO 00 ?
O What ere you going to do, brother’
Sat, whst yr.e von going to do ?
Vob b»»e thought uf some usefnl labor,
Bat what ie the end in view t
Vou are fresh from the home of your boyhood,
And just in the bloom of ybuth? •
(Have you tasted the sparkling water
Tlmt floWs from the fnunt of truth ?
is your heart in the Saviour's keeping ?
Remember, he died fur you !
Vhrjp. whai are you going to do, brother 7
Srpy, what are you going to do 7
X) what are you going to do, brother ?
The morning of youth is past,;
The vigor and streugih of manhood,
My brother, are yours at lust.
Yog are rising in worldly prospects,
And prospered in worldly things-r
A duty to those less favured
The smile of yoar fortune bungs ;
Go, prove that your heart is grateful—
The Lord lias work lor you !
Then what are you goiug to do, brother?
Say, what are you going to do 7
O what are you going to do, brother 7
Your sun at its noon is high ;
It shines in meridian splendor,
And rides through the cloudless sky.
You arc holding a high position
Of honor, of trust and fame—
Are you wailing to give the glory
And praise to your Sa'dour's name ?
The regions that sit ill darkness
Are stretching their hands to you ;
Then what are you going to do, brother 7
Say, what are yon going to do 7
0 what are you goiner to do, brother 7
; The twilight approaches now—
Already your locks are silvered,
And winter is on your brow.
Your talent your time, your riches,
To Jesus, vour Master, give ;
Then ask if the world around you,
Is the lietler because you lir e.
You are nearing the brink of Jordan,
But still there is work for you :
Then whatara you going to do, brother?
May, what are you goiog to do 7
— Selected.
SELECTIONS-_ _
ORGANIC UNITY.
“We feel the importance of unity.
We do .not see how this is to be af
fected without some approach to or
ganic union. But whether one can
see how or not, the union will one
day take place.” We read this in the
Churehman of last week ; and we take
it at the text to some thoughtson the
subject of unity. A great deal has
been said lately in regard to this mat
ter. The greatest exhibition of Chris
tian unity, that the world has ever
seen, might well stir the minds of
meii in regard to it, set them to think
ing, to speaking, to writing in regard
to its importance. Even those not
sympathising with the mode in which
this demonstration was made, were
strangely moved by it; some to ex
press their regrets that they could
not take part in it; others to
point out what they regarded as its
defects and failures. A great deal
has been said, too, especially by those
dissenting classes, of tho difference
between “unity” and “organic unity.’’
The passage quoted above seems to
hint at this distinction. “Organic
unity” is the desideratum of Pere Ify
acinthe. Tho Old Catholics, we be
lieve, make it one of their points of
desirable attainment. What, let me
aslf, as distinct: from unity, or as over
and above unity', is organic unity ?—
Are these brethren asking for a real!
ty or a phantom t Or is it a tertimn
quid, something that does not amount
to uniformity, but goes beyoml unity.
Organic unity, then, is not unifor
mity. There have been parliamen
tary and ecclesiastical acts of unifor
mity. But their very existence was
a confession of diversity, aud their
operation was to increase it. Unifor
mity may be attainable for a com pan j,
perhaps for a regiment or a brigade,
but for a large army it is out of the
question. The artillery and sappers,
and miners, and calvary are just as
necessary as the infantry. So you
may have it in a few neighboring par
ishes, but it cannot be gotten, and
gever has been gotten, in any large
clesiastical body. It is not in^he
|rch of England, not in the Epis
[ Church in this country, not in
pk Clinrch, not in the Church
It was not in the Church
1st cei)turyj nor in that of
j centuries 'in tervening from
[until the present. Unifor
. no Church Catholie, *, e. the
Tof the world, with its hetero
geneous population, and civil organ
isms and institutions need not be seri
ously contemplated as a rational pro
ability.
| Is, then, organic unity, a unity of
gislation, a unity which brings all
tho Church organisms of the world
under some central executive or legis
lative power ? Some such idea seems
to be floating before the minds of cer
tain Christian writers and workers of
the preseut time. To their minds a
General Council would be the pana
cea, the cure all of the difficulties and
diversities of Christendom. “If we
could have a General Council, a real
General Council.” If we could. But,
then, think of the difficulties. The
effort to get such a council would in
volve more of these than would- the
getting rid of our diversities iu some
other way. Who would compose this
council! Those who have most hope
from this agency, would answer tho
successional Episcopate of the world.
But this would exclude the Episcopa
lians of Denmark and others of doubt
ful pedigree, Mefhodists, and perhaps
Swedes and Moravians, non-Episcopal
Protestants, not less than seven tenths
of the working capacity of living
Christendom, and leave unrepresented
the Laity, the Deacons, and Presby
ters of the most undoubted Episcopal
Churches. Are we of the Episcopal
Church, prepared to go into such a
scheme o( unity,with all power of leg
islafion lodged in the Episcopate, and
these our Anglican and American
Bishops voting in a hopeless minority
by the side of the Roman and Greek
Episcopate. And if we could not
agree to this, how could we hope for
such agreement from non-Episcopa
lians I The real difficulty in all these
eases, is to get the material of the
right kind, and with the right spirit.
But the state of things which would
evolve such a council would leave
nothing for the council to do. It
would be organic unity, an accom
plished fact, not one to be worked or
striven for. If, moreover, it had this
right kind of material, >'t would in
clude a representation of all the or
ganizations of Christendom, and of all
the orders and and classes of every
such organization.
But this, it is admitted, is hardly,
for the present,anticipated: and while
a beautiful exhibition of Christian
unity, would soon be found an 1111
wieldy machine for anything like real
legislation. The diverse conditions
of different portions of Christendom,
diversities physical, social, and intel
lectual are so great that probably one
of the first things agreed upon, would
be the establishment- or recognition of
the existing necessity of independent
centres of church legislation, and
church action. The maxims “divide
and conquer,” “decide so as to live af
feotionately and comfortably,” would
be recognized, even by a perfectly
harmonious Christendom.
And, this brings to view, the other
idea of organic unity, entertained by
certain classes: the unity not of per
fect uniformity, not of legislative cen
tralism, but of communion, that, of
mutual recognition and communica
tion by the different bodies of Chris
tendom. It is to he said, with shame
and sorrow, that, am dug Protestants,
the bad pre-eminence of refusing to
do this, pertains to us in our legisla
tion, and in the feelings and actiou
perhaps of a majority of our people.
The various euphemisms, by which
the word church is witheld from the
non-Episcopal Protestant Churches ot
the world, in the language of our
several Canons, would be amusing if
it were not so so. How different from
the language of the revisers of the
Prayer Book t How different from
the English Reformers and their sue
cessors of tlie first three generations!
What a humiliating fact, that out of
so many delegates, to the Alliance,
from so many different bodies, only
those who were there from our Church
were blamed by the members of their
own communion 1 That the effort
should have been made to prove that
Episcopalians, if consistent, are out
of sympathy with any such move
ment! “It was not an enemy that
did-this.” Could an enemy have done
or said anything worse f The Bap
tists consistently would unchurch all
others. But, by a happy inconsisten
cy they leap out of this unchurching
theory, in their Collective relations
with other Christian bodies, recognize
these bodies as churches, aud act with
them, - ^But^oULttiasr thm #sule^Jthe
TtiTul oT unity thus desired cduldThard
ly be called ecclesiastically organic.—
It would, indeed, be most desirable,
and will probably be the first, if not
the only attainable mode, in which
the Churches of the world will come
into communication with each other.
It will never be known so long as auy
of these bodies insists on its outward
peculiarity being adopted by aU the
others. “Do you think,” was the in
quiry of a Lutheran Clergyman, to an
Episcopalian, “do yon think they will
all be Episcopalians in the Millenium 1”
“I have hardly settled that point to
my complete satisfaction,” was the re
ply. “Well, if you have not, I have.
I am sure the.? will all he Lutherans.”
“Ifthe.y would be Episcopal Lutherans,
through the Swedish Line, very well,”
would be the reply of many among
us, at the present time. Now all this
sort of thing must be gotten rid of.
It gpnders, not only to the bondage
of exclusiveness, but to that of Sec
tarianism. It is the only quintescence
of the spirit of sect, too often calling
itself Catholic. And it will drive
asunder, instead of bringing together
the fragments oif.Christendom. It, is
only as men agree to differ, when they
are really different, that there can be
any reasonable hope of their becoming
alike. The frank recognition of the
difference, and of the right to differ,
places things upon a truthful basis.
And, where there is truth, real truth,
love is not far distant.
But there is another kind of organ
ic unity. And that all followers of
the Lord Jesus already possess,if they
could be made to recognize and real
ize it. In the days of our Lord His
contemporaries were looking for the
kingdom of God, no doubt expecting
it, and full of theories, as we are
about organic unity, as to its charac
ter and mode of manifestation. And,
just then, the Master told them, that
it was among them. It was among
them, and they had not seen it, or
had any suspicion of its presence. Is
it not so now t We are looking for
“one of the days of the Son of Man.”
May we not be aware of it. We want
organic unity. Yes, but the unity of
what kind of au organism, outward
and material, or inward and spiritual!
The former the Church and the world
have recognized and striven for.—
Would it not be well to recognize the
reality of the latter, and make that
the object of definite aspiration ?—
This organic unity of the spiritual
body, is only actualized, and it is fully
actualized in the presence anil the
operation of certain spiritual princi
ples. Where those principles are
common, the individuals holding
them, and swayed by them, constitute
this organism. To introduce any oth
er element, anything outward and
material, as a necessary component
to this unity, is to produce confusion.
It is to mistake the organic unity of
one kind of organism for that of
another, to mix and confound the
principles and essential elements of
the one, with those of the other. And
the result is about as satisfactory, or
rather is as full of confusion as would
he the effort to solve a problem in
morals by a demonstration in phys
ics, or an experiment in chemistry.
So, then, we have found, and we
have, and Christ’s real people cannot
be deprived of it, wljat we have been
looking for; the organic unity of a
spiritual organism. Blessed was its
exhibition, though only for so brief a
period. It was a great stride towards
Heaven with many a man, who was
permitted to eujoy it. And it was no
less a stride, in the direction of our
Protestant Christendom, to the only
form possible of outward organic uni
ty, that which will bring all real
Christian bodies, of whatever forms
and with whatever future moditica
tions, into the union of joyful ,ac
knowledgement, and loving communi
cation.—<7. *» Southern Churchman.
A LITTLE PRAYER-MEETING.
It was a time of coldness in the
church in the thriving village of M.—
There was'no want of interest in de
bating and literary societies and “so
ciables,” all profitable aud vory com
mendable in themselves. Ho lack of
zeal was displayed among the young
people in getting up fairs for the ben
efit of the church and Sunday School,
and the new and commodious house
of worship was well filled on the Sab
bath with attentive listeners. Indeed,
oiie who looked only at the external
appearance of things would have pro
nounced the church in a very prosper
ous condition. But there was a bur
den weighing heavily upon the min
ister’s heam-'j
He felt that a spirit of worldliness
had gained such possession of the
minds of his hearers, that so far as
expecting any good results from his
preaching was concerned, he might
as woll preach to the empty slips. He
felt as though he was alone iu his
effort to save sinners, and he was be
coming very much disheartened.- One
evening he returned from the weekly
prayer-meeting more than usually de
preseed. He had met there the faith
faithful few whom lie was always sure
to see: the white haired deacons,
some of the wives and mothers, and
two or three young persons. But
where were Hie enterprising business
men who were among the members of
his church, and the throng of yoiuCiff
people who wonld be such a power in
the church if converted to Christ?—
His heart sank as-he thought of them
rapidly drifting down the stream of
time, devoted to present enjoyment,
i thoughtless unconcerned about their
| souls, and their grow ing powers all
| devoted tc the world.
Op the same evening, in one of the
I cheerful parlors of the village, sat a
j young girl engaged in deep thought.
| Delia \V. was the only child of weal
I thy and indulgent parents. And al
though she scarcely knew a wish that
was not gratified by them, her natur
ally generous and sunny disposition
had not been spoiled. She remained
unselfish and warm hearted, anil was
a geueral favorite in the circle of
young people in which sbe moved,and
of which her beauty aud sprightly
ways fitted her to be the leader. Two
years before she had made a profes
sion of religion, but fond of pleasure
and influenced by the gay throng
about her, she had grown very cold.
On this evening she had been enter
raining some young menus who came
to call upon her, and now they had
gone, she seemed troubled, and sad,
“I ought to have gone to pra.ver
; meeting to-night,” she said aloud. ‘‘I
am afraid I am losing all liiy religion
and am no better than those who do
not profess any.” A remark dropped
by the young man who had called,had
'aroused her from her lethargy and set
her to thinking. “lie lias reason to
think lightly of religion when he sees
my unfaithfulness,” she added with a
sigh. She remained for some time in
deep thought, and then sinking upon
her knees she acknowledged her siu,
pleading for forgiveness, and arose
with a new purpose in her heart.
The next day several of her young
friends received a little note inviting
them to come to her house to attend a
little prayermeeting on the following
evening. She did not venture to
speculate about the manner in which
the invitations would he received,
but tried to leave the result to God.
When the time drew near for the
meeting, she arranged the room so as
to make it look as cheerful as possible.
The lamps were shadefTY^j)** to pre
vent a glare of light, and ’The centre
table furnished with a Bible and some
tune-books which she had obtained
for the occasion. By and by two or
three came in and quietly took their
seats, and then others, till the little
circle was almost complete. Delia
took her seat at the piano and played
“Sweet hour of prayer,” and all joined
her in singing it. The voices on the
different parts blended well, and the
music sounded very sweet. Then she
read a chapter from the Bible, and
kneeled down and prayed. With a
trembling voice she confessed her
past coldness,and pleat’ed for strength
to commence a new Christian life. All
felt that every word came from the
heart, and as she closed her prayer, a
gentle hush rested upon the little
group. Then she read a little tract, a
tender, earnest appeal to all to seek
the Saviour at once. Then they sang
“Come to Jesus just now,” and after
appointing the meeting for the next
week at the same time and place, she
dismissed rueni.
Two or three young girls lingered
to press her hand and say good-night,
and Delia felt that the first meeting
was not n failure. The interest in
creased from week to week in the
little prayer-meeting, till many were
anxious about their souls, and pray
ers of rejoicing were heard from some
of those who had been the most
thoughtless. The minister wept tears
of joy as on one beautiful spring Sab
bath morning fifteen youug people
stood up together to profess Christ
before men. But the work did not
stop there. The members of the
church were led to humble confession
of their past coldness and neglect,and
to pray earnestly lor a revival of reh
giou among them, aud before the^
close of the year, fifty were added to
ti£v !n.pe tb^
never returned to their former, cold
and lifeless condition.—Congregation
alist.
Divine wisdom, intending to de
tab) ns some timo on earth, has done
well to cover with a veil the prospect
of life to come; for if our slight could
clearly distinguish the opposite bank,
who would remain on this tempestuous
coast ?—Mme. dt »Stael,
M
JUYENILE.
BE THANKFUL.
“I don’t want any supper,” said
Kate. “Nothing but bread and milk,
cake and berries. Just the same every
night.”
“Would yon like to takeawalkt”
asked mamma, not noticing Kate’s re
marks.
“Yes, mamma.”
Kate was pleased so long as their
walk led t hrough pleasant streets, but
when they came to narrow, dirty ones,
where the houses were old and poor;
she wanted to go home. “Please,
mamma, don’t go any farther.”
“We will go into the corner house,”
said mamma. Some rough looking
door steps,
{lit hold
ey went
So
could
men were sittin,
Kate felt afraid,
of mamma’s haii
up tottering
hot and close
sea rely breath
On a straw
dow, lay a you.
and thin, a
she were dead.
Hearing footsteps, sheopened her
eyes. Mamma uncovered her basket,
and gave the girl a drink of milk, and
placed the bread, and cake, and ber
ries, beside her.
Kate’s eyes filled with tears, as she
saw the girl eagerly eat her supper.
Not a mouthful had she tasted since
early morning.
Her poor mother had been away all
day working, and now came home
wishing she had something for her
sick child. When she found* her so
well eared for, she could hot thank
mamma ami Kate enough. The sup
per seemed a feast to them. “If we
can keep a roof over our heads,” said
she, “and get a crust to eat, we are
thankful.”
Kate never forgot these words. Let
us all learn the same lesson, and cease
complaining aud fault finding. If we
have a home and food to eat, let us
thank God, for many wander the
stieets homeless and hungry,-4c’/u7<|’«
Paper.
SHE TOOK OUT THE “ IF.”
A little girl was awakened to an
xiety about lier soul at a meeting
where the story of the leper was told.
One day a poor leper came to Jesus
aud worshipped him, saying, “Lord,
if thou wilt, thou eanst make me
clean. And Jesus put forth his hand
and touched him, saying, I will; be
thou clean; and immediately his lep
rosy was cleansed.”
Well, this dear little girl, who was
anxious, said: “I noticed that there
was an Hf’ in what the man said, but
there was no ‘if’ in what Jesus said ;
so I went home and took out the 'if’
by my granny’s fireside, and I knelt
down and 1 said, “Lord Jesus, thou
eanst, thou wilt make-me clean; I
give myself to thee.’”
My beloved little reader, have you
thus come to Jesusf And it' not yet,
will you come now 1 Oh! do come to
him ! lie can, he will make yon clean
—yes, whiter than snow. You are a
sinner, and sin is a far
than leprosy. Xot
away but the blood
Come to him this
“behold, now is the
behold, now is the
Seeds of Truth.
THERE’S ALWAYS
A .young man
studying law,
ster:
“Mr.
Cession of law is
there are more
ed; do you
for me f”
“There is
was
ingenious.
Inign
great
••Th-i^^^^MPngh up
First i amt
well njH^^Rs, lawyers,
&e., always find fden^Wi room, plen
ty of work, and good pay, Whatever
calling you choose, and it matters lit
j-‘ oue,.. -resolve *''
srnrv = but don’t try,
to'jump there by a single leap, or you
nmy^Wl disabled. Bather begin at
the bottom of the ladder, and patient
ly step up on each round.
Diligence iu business during the
si* working days, as well as rest from
4 op the Sabbath.
,k the truth.
FARM AND GARDEN.
FATTENING HOGS.
This is a work, we presume, enga
ging the attention of all farmers at
the present time, anrl to make the
largest yield of pork and manure from
«liens with the least expenditure'
sod and labor in attention to feed
'and suppPKjng the hogs with ma
terial for manure, is the question.— [
We need scarcely remind the farmer
that time lost r.ow is not easily re
gained in cold weather, since then
much of the feed which would now lie
stored up in fat, is then used by the
animals to withstand the cold.
Experiments prove that it will pay
to grind the coru into hominy or meal;
under some circumstances, it will pay
to steam or cook the feed, and we be
lieve thero is great economy in mixed
feed, changing occasionally from raw
corn to copked feed, corn meal, tur
nips, cabbage leaves, potatoes, peas,
and any vegetables hogs will eat.—
Frequent feeding, a little at a time, a
good supply at night, daily supply of
woods mould and straw to keep the
pens dry and hogs comfortable and
warm, fresh water three times daily,
watchful care of the appetite, and
while giving an abnndanoe of corn in
some form, aiding distention and di
gestion by some of the materials
above recommended, we believe to be
true economy7. Suppose we feed tur
nips, cabbage leaves and corn meal
boiled together, morning and midday,
the mess slightly salted. Clean out
the troughs at night and feed shelled
coru in cold weather, giving the hogs
a good bed in the sleeping corner and
throwing woods mould over the ma
nure corner. It is easier for ns to use
the corn-sheller than to make the hogs
take it from the cob, and we want
them to sleep and eat all they can of
the most nourishing and digestible
substances possible, with little labor
and exercise, and while cooked feed
may and will aid us much on the
score of economy and the productions
of fat, solid raw corn appears to exert
a just influence over the firmness and
solidity of the bacon and lard. In
the expense of fattening must be rec
koned the treatment they have re
ceived during the summer, sm^e a
skeleton razor back root-digger will
even at present prices of corn con
sume more when fed on it alone in a
careless way, than his pork will bring
in market. It is very convenient and
saves much labor to have thp pump
and boiling kettle set in masonry very
near the fattening pen, and while our
Northern farmers who live on pork
and beans may prefer to cook all their
hog feed, we who are fond of bacon
haius and cabbage—hams j that are
firm and solid, that will not see saw
hot or cold under the knilfe like the
slop-fed and distillery hams—must
continue to feed some raw corn daily
to our pork the hist month of their
existence.—Rural Messenger.
GORGED STOMACHS IN-HORSES.
Gorged stomachs, or acute indiges
tion, is a disease which every year de
stroys a great many valuable horses.
It consists either in distension of the
pmach from food or from gas gener
by the fermentation of its undi
:ed contents.
is very serious disorder often re
Iroi" 'rjftng food in large quan
‘i ■‘•nd o^%0tiS£snbjbcting the
nl^roard qj> \ .work, Th
ttrs
jaf^^Tard oj IV jf work. This is
y coiamoi/thing among fafBS®#^
■s, A. journey of fifteen or tweu
miles lias to be performed; the
r; through kiudness, gives an
a quantity of fool; the stomach
the bowels are overloaded ; the
torse begins his journey full of spirit,
and, after traveling a few miles, he
becomes dull and sluggish aud sweats
freely; he is polled up, and, after
standing for a few mounts, shows
signs of abdominal pains by cringiug
the body and attempting to lie down.
The flanks ere sliglitly swollen. In
a few moments he seems easier, and
is driven on, now and then showing
signs of pain ; possibly he reaches his
destination, and is taken out of har
ness, when he may exhibit very alar
niii^a-^Waptoms.
cause fFNci.’.ivig
heavily when the stomach has been
weakened through enervating exer
cise or long fasting,
In road horses that are highly fed
on oats aud hay, it is occasionally
brought on by giving a quantity of
green clover oi tares immediately af
ter performing a fast journey.—Cana
da Farmer,
■W'W |1 l IF -IW.
fta ^hrislian jjum
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J01* WORK.
Book and Job Pkintino of every kliAS d0n4
at our Job Office in the best style and on moder
ate tern. s.
TRAIN,NS HORSES TO RE SAFE.
It is easy to train a horse not to Inf,
dangerous. It is easy, but it reqniresi
patience and good sense in the train,1
er, and good sense in the colt, too.-)
Some, colts are natural fools, and carl
never have Sense trained into them j
It is not at all difficult to-train a young ]
horse so that he "ill be gentle at
quiet under almost any cirenmstani
and if something unusual should
rify him, he would run to his mas J
sooner than run away from him.
horse properly trained will oh™
look to the rider or driver in ti
fright for protection ; and inst.
kicking and tearing everythi
pieces, when scared, he will, w!
sees you standing by him, and'
your hand on his head or rein,
his trust in you, and regard yo. J
his only hope in time of dang
This was often illustrated^
the war. All who served
vary or artillery force bav«j
frightened a horse was
his rider tumbled from the
mattered not how lond the
the guns roared in battle^
great me contusion m trie ,
deadly strife:—tlie horse se'
conscious of danger until It,,
without a rider/or an attendant
moment the rider’s hold wrs rij
the steed found himself separr
the one he was trained t
his protestor, that momeTtasj
furiously wild, and won.
neigh and run in every di"!
teutimes pressing into
the front rank, seeming ti
fort by rubbing his sides •
legs of the riders of other j
Every farmer who rais^
a little care could make'
with the saddle and 1*
backs or under their
teach them to hold bar,
a down bill grade, lj
hips against it. A hq
way would not bq
ten breast strap give
break, and let the
him.
Educated horses wil
able and bring a
really serviceable
on the market,
cities. Those tha
ish are generally
dangerous at til
never been hitc'j
rners can raise i
by giving some
tiug them l'or tl
horses are used (1
AsnE-S,—All far mem'
tlieir interest to have the i
ry, and gum, that, is down
est turned into ashes. ThiJ
season of the year to bur
wood, especially where the i
been cut down. You can
more and at the save time «
ashes than in the winter an
Every 300 bushels of ashes, j
and kept dry until the
the equivalent of auy to^
guano. Ashes cannot
ou well drained laud, a
them in the drill -
post them. On
sufficient quun£
rotting to my
this plant
all nropsj
that is
are qfl
at $lj
make i
efit of
easily
from the
an imlnsfl
to consider^
usintteb as
them unt.y«s
4S' boor a uay
■fatly improve*